The great Hindi writer, Hazari Prasad Dwivedi, in a brilliant essay Jabki Dimag Khali Hai (When the Mind is Empty) published in 1939, outlined the existential burdens on modern Hindu identity. This identity is constituted by a paradoxical mixture of sentiments: a sense of lack, Hinduism is not sure what makes it the identity that it is; a sense of injury, the idea that Hindus have been victims of history; a sense of superiority, Hinduism as the highest achievement of spirituality and uniquely tolerant; a sense of weakness, Hindus are unable to respond to those who attack them; a sense of uncertainty, how will this tradition make its transition to modernity without denigrating its own past; and finally, a yearning for belonging, a quest for a community that can do justice to them as Hindus. This psychic baggage can express itself in many ways, sometimes benign and creative, sometimes, malign and close minded. But these burdens cast their unmistakable shadow upon modern Hindu self-reflection, often leading to a discourse on identity that Dwivedi memorably described as one, where the ‘‘heart is full and the mind empty (dil bhara hai aur dimag khali hai).’’ Hindutva is a clearly written, accessible account that shows just how these themes play out in figures like Dayananda, Aurobindo, Vivekananda and Savarkar. These thinkers created modern Hindu identity and for all their other differences, they cope with this existential burden by creating a identity that is more masculine, assertive, willful, and one that can be the vehicle of realising a new Hindu glory. The burden of Sharma’s argument is that the distinction between so called soft and aggressive Hindutva, between a spiritually minded Vivekanada and Aurobindo on the one hand, and an outright nationalist like Savarkar on the other, is often overstated. The conflation of the spiritual and national, reason and identity runs across much of modern Hindu thought. This provocative and uncomfortable point needs to be made. Sharma makes this valid point relentlessly, armed with well-picked quotations. But the single mindedness of his indictment leads to a discussion of these thinkers that occasionally borders on the simple-minded. Deep and complex issues about identity, toleration, violence, non-violence, history, Hinduism, historical contexts and religious experience are quickly swamped under the condescension of posterity and the predictable anti-Hindutva pieties. Part of the difficulty is that most discussions of Hindu nationalism interrogate the term ‘‘Hindu’’ more than they question the term ‘‘nationalism’’. The simple fact is, any form of collective identity depends on creating benchmarks that define its boundaries. Nationalism insists on such benchmarks and politically speaking, the closure of identity, the hostility to pluralism that Sharma worries about, is an offshoot of all modern nationalism. More than the distinction between soft and hard Hindutva, the distinction between Hindu nationalism and other forms of nationalism needs to be questioned. If Nehruvian nationalism seems more open to plurality and minorities, it is more due to the generosity of some of its adherents rather than the cogency of its doctrines. This is why it was possible for the BJP to hijack the discourse of modern secularism in an anti-minority direction. Coming to grips with Hindutva requires engaging with a social movement which gives many the sense that long suppressed anxieties have found utteranceSharma deserves our gratitude for asking some hard questions, but to come to grips with Hindutva will require engagement with it as an extraordinary social movement, which gives many the sense that their long suppressed anxieties have at last found utterance. And combating its fanatical edge will require converting liberal pieties into an attractive ideological vision. Our tragedy is both the votaries and opponents of Hindutva are operating with heavy hearts and empty minds, reduced to rehearsing their own truisms.
