Unveiling the Politics of Hindutva: A Review of ‘Parivaar: A Celebration of Community as Family’
In an increasingly interconnected world, the rise of far-right ideologies is not confined by borders. One such ideology is “Hindutva,” a form of Brahminical supremacy originating in India, propagated by the paramilitary organization Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), which has been making its presence felt globally. This ideology is at its core genocidal, aiming to build an ethnonationalist project and monolithic ‘Hindu’ identity by eliminating and subjugating Muslims, religious minorities, Adivasis (Indigenous people), and intensifying caste oppression.
Disclaimer: This article is a commentary which introduces critical perspectives against a prevailing far-right ideology in India. It includes opinions and perspectives based on the lived experiences of the contributors and does not necessarily reflect the views of Unicorn Riot.
This article features a rundown of Hindutva, a critique about a cultural art performance, a response by the artists and a rebuttal by the contributors.
The Hindutva project has affected education, legislation, religious freedom, political dissent, and interfaith relations around the world. After a decade in power, the far-right Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) lost its outright parliamentary majority in the recent Indian elections, but fascism’s hold over society has not been loosened.
The spread of Hindutva through the Indian diasporas in the Western imperial core has intensified Brahmanism — Brahmin supremacy, akin to white supremacy in that it positions Brahmins as superior to all others while legitimizing and enforcing the oppressive caste system as a whole. The centuries-old caste system functions as an inherently violent apartheid-like discrimination and hierarchy among peoples, justifying untouchability, unseeability, and upheld by daily atrocities. Reflecting economic, political, and social power, castes are stratified into ‘upper caste’ and ‘lower caste,’ which disguises coercion and exploitation. The authors of this article purposefully reject the use of ‘upper caste’ and ‘lower caste’ as terms that normalize oppression.
The Brahmanical propaganda and violence in the West has, in turn, strengthened Hindutva forces in the subcontinent. Over the past three decades, the ruling classes of the West have made common cause with Hindutva fascism. With its roots deeply embedded in India, and with the backing of political-economic powers in the West, Hindutva’s global impact raises pressing questions for radical movements and anti-fascist struggles in and beyond South Asia.
RSS was founded in the 1920s, taking direct inspiration from the original Nazi party in Germany (NSDAP), and today considers Israel as the ideal model ethnostate to achieve in India. The growing ideological, economic, and political alliance between India’s ruling class and Israel has culminated in the Indian state becoming the top purchaser of Israeli weaponry. And especially since the current Prime Minister of India came into power, the escalation of state violence and patterns of occupation and militarization — targeting Kashmiris, Muslims, Sikhs, Dalits, and Adivasis — has been modeled on the Zionist settler-colonial regime.
Zionism and Hindutva are two ethno-nationalist ideologies which are related to Nazi fascism. Both have found a home in the Euro-settler societies of the imperial core.
Recent incidents in academic spaces highlight how the RSS’ efforts to spread Hindu supremacist ideology within the U.S. imitate the overall strategy successfully utilized by Israel’s political advocates for decades. To dismiss and denounce anyone critical of Hindutva, RSS elements have begun to deploy the term “hinduphobia,” emulating the Zionist playbook of accusing anti-Zionists of being “anti-semitic.”
In the intricate web of neo-colonial “multi-cultural’ America, Hindu fascism operates openly. The Hindu American Foundation (HAF), Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh (HSS), Hindu YUVA, along with other Hindu fascist groups, have cultivated close ties with both major political parties in the U.S., alongside economic and cultural institutions.
This all has dire implications for the masses of people in South Asia, as well as among the diasporas across the world. Hindu fascist networks in the West are trying to silence any voices of dissent from religious minorities and oppressed-caste peoples while soft-pedaling the oppressor-caste narrative into schools, universities, and broader society through the arts and cultural work.
Many ‘liberals,’ ‘progressives,’ those who claim to be anti-racist, or in this case, anti-Hindutva, all across the globe are not only silent but some outright take leadership in organizing and propagating the Hindutva narrative, normalizing the caste-based violence and discrimination that occur daily in India. The growing dominance of Hindutva fascism among the Indian diaspora can be traced to the migration of predominantly oppressor-caste peoples since the 1960s, which reflects the terrain of class and caste struggles in South Asia. Building an awareness and understanding of the Hindutva fascist movement’s global reach and influence — especially in arts and cultural spheres in the U.S. — is necessary for concrete anti-fascist action.
Hindutva Propaganda Through Art
One such recent example of Hindutva propagation through art is “Parivaar: A celebration of Community as Family,” performed on February 18, 2024 at the Ordway Concert Hall — funded by Schubert Club Mix in St. Paul, Minnesota. The production brought the spotlight on to a troubling intersection of art and reactionary politics, a stark embodiment of willful artistic ignorance and ideological blindness in the South Asian diaspora.
Though this purported homage is to the South Asian community and its tradition, as mentioned by the creator herself on the stage, it only depicts the privileged castes — a Brahmanical tradition that is steeped in oppression, discrimination, untouchability, whitewashing the history of systemic caste and class violence. The presence of only Hindu priests and representatives of the organizations that support the far-right BJP government in the performance declares its intention and motives.
South Asia comprises Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Maldives, Nepal, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, with Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism being the prominent religions. In India, Classical Carnatic music is monopolized by Brahmins, along with other oppressor castes (euphemistically called ‘Upper Caste’), which account for 10.56% of the Indian population, while holding approximately 75.5% of the government jobs.
In Act II, the “Parivaar” production romanticizes Classical Carnatic music and other arts by perpetuating the false notion that artistic prowess is the exclusive domain of the ‘upper caste’ (oppressor caste) and that making (labor) of the instrument is that of ‘lower caste’ (oppressed caste) throughout the story. The narrator, a recent McKnight Awardee, is an Indian artist whose works predominantly address “urgent social concerns through art.”
The play centers around the evolving relationship between a mother and child in the context of South Indian musical traditions. At one point, the mother expresses frustration that her child isn’t able to play any instrument, but is interested in only how it makes sound. When her child mentions that the neighbors said they are not related to the mother and do not belong to the same caste as the mother, that is presented as the reason why they were unable to learn to play the instruments. The child continued to say their hands are rough, finally showing the instrument that is “oddly-shaped,” different to other carnatic musical instruments. This all reinforces the ongoing discriminative narrative that Carnatic music is only by and for Brahmins, connecting it to brahmanical devotional practices, while instrument makers come from marginalized communities and are regarded as untouchables.
Firstly, the rough hands signify the hard labor one does with their hands. It has nothing to do with whom and which caste they are born into. Secondly, there is nothing wrong/something to be disappointed about in a child who is interested in knowing how the sound originates. That is a very scientific thought. Thirdly and mainly, reinforcing discriminatory caste practices under the name of ‘South Asian community’ and tradition is a disgusting display of oppressor-caste Indian Hindu supremacy. The story ends with reconciliation between the child and mother, who says to them, “I don’t care about caste and you are my child,” ignoring complexities brought up by the child including the oppressive caste system as a whole. When the child worries that the instrument is “so different,” seeking out the mother’s acceptance, she confirms that the instrument is “unique,” a not-so-subtle way of saying it doesn’t conform to the Brahmanical norm. The “oddly-shaped,” “unique” instrument is put alongside the other instruments as a sign of the mother’s acceptance. This is another example of a blatant saviorship complex and a paternalistic attitude on the part of the oppressor caste, where they decide what is ‘normal’ and ‘divine.’ Totally disregarding the atrocities and all the nuances that still exist on the basis of caste doesn’t mean that caste disappears, in fact it reinforces it.
By conveniently side-stepping the realities of caste oppression and exclusion, such narratives not only erase the lived experiences of marginalized communities, but also uphold harmful stereotypes and archaic hierarchies, perpetuating the very oppression they claim to decry.
Equally concerning is the coziness of the production to the institutions that are associated with Hindu fascist organizations. Caste and religious violence in this settler colony (so-called ‘United States’) have ripple effects in India, especially since Hindu fascism has emerged as such a viciously powerful force due to the direct support from leading sectors of the diaspora.
This is not an isolated incident. Performing at the Ordway on a Schubert Club Mix platform — a classical music series — boasting about Brahminical pride, and taking the blessings of the associations that support Hindu fascism is no subtle or ignorant mistake, but a sign of the direction this rising generation of American-born South Asians is taking. At a time when Ram Mandir has been built on the demolished Babri Masjid and there are constant attacks in India on Dalits, Muslims, Christians, and places of prayer, diasporas must understand the reality — the Indian state moves ever closer to its end goal of creating a genocidal oppressor society in the image of Israel.
The lack of accountability from all parties involved — creators, performers, funders, and audience members alike — is deeply troubling. By turning a blind eye to the blatant ignorance or, worse yet, the brazen display of Brahmanical pride showcased in “Parivaar,” individuals contribute to the perpetuation of systems of oppression both locally and globally.
To build a conscious anti-fascist effort among the South Asian diasporas, the arts and cultural sphere must be seen as a terrain of struggle against Brahmanical fascism. As Amiri Baraka, one of the foremost writers of the 1960s Black Power movement, stated, “The attempt to divide art and politics is Bourgeois philosophy which says good poetry, art, cannot be political, but since everything is, by the nature of society, political, even an artist or work that claims not to have any politics is making a political statement by that act.”
“Parivaar: A Celebration of Community as Family” is a reminder of how subtly Hindutva injects itself into South Asian diasporas through a process of soft cultural normalization on the part of Indian artists. It is up to the viewers of such art to not only demand accountability from artists, but to also forge a radical consciousness among any and all who seek to represent this shared cultural heritage. Anything less keeps the cycle of ignorance and oppression, both on stage and in society, running.
Editor’s Note:
Unicorn Riot reached out to Parivaar’s creators for a statement and they said: “As the creators of Parivaar, we are vehemently against the caste system and firmly believe caste ought to be abolished. We also reject Hindu nationalism and both organize against Hindutva and caste in various capacities. Parivaar is a story that calls out the caste discrimination that plagues our community.” Read their full statement below.
Schubert Club also responded, stating the following: “As an organization whose primary musical focus has historically been Western classical music, we cannot claim to have extensive knowledge of the caste system and many of the nuances involved, but we are strongly against discrimination, and are committed to equity and inclusion in our programs and operations. Furthermore, we don’t believe that the writers of Parivaar had any intention of embedding ideology in support of the caste system or Hindutva ideology in their work.”
Statement / Response by Parivaar Creators Sravya Tadepalli and Shruthi Rajasekar
As artists, we understand that people can see art in different ways, and as Hindus from caste privileged backgrounds, we recognize that we have blind spots. We are both firmly against caste discrimination, Brahminical supremacy, and Hindutva, but “Parivaar” could have done a better job of explicitly reflecting these values, including by better highlighting the diverse religious traditions of South Asians who participated in the program. However, we feel compelled to discuss how we wrote the story of “Parivaar” and why it became the story it did — particularly because we aimed to write a piece that would create an anti-caste narrative that could challenge norms in our largely caste-privileged Hindu community.
When we were commissioned to write this piece, we decided on a story about a mother adopting a child of divine birth. The mother would be a classical artist who would want to teach her child classical arts — but the child would be interested in doing art in a different way. As a teenager, they would develop their own secret passion, of inventing musical instruments, that they would keep a secret from their mother.
When the mother discovers her child’s passion, she realizes that art can be done in a wide variety of ways, and she learns to accept and embrace her child’s passion. It is a story that many second-generation South Asian Americans would relate to, as many have pursued fields that are different from the ones our parents did and struggled to get them to understand. As Indian American artists, it has been important for our choice of career to be accepted by our families and communities.
But we did not want to just write a simple mother-child story. Predicting a predominantly dominant caste, Hindu audience, we wanted to push the envelope and challenge our community to critically think about the discriminatory politics that are pervasive in the South Asian community — particularly caste. But we also didn’t want to turn the story into a lecture on the history of caste discrimination. Rather, our goal was to show how casteism plagues the South Asian American community while dominant caste South Asians often act like it does not exist.
We did this through the story of the child’s adoption. In India, adoption outside the family has historically been frowned upon in dominant caste societies that emphasize caste purity as a prerequisite for belonging. Adopted children often face questions about their caste in social settings and during conversations about marriage, something we also know about from our own circles. In the play, we discuss how the neighbors “advised [Ma] not to take the baby — if they were found in the river, who knew what kind of family the baby came from?”
In the crucial scene referred to in the previous piece, an argument between the mother and teenager about their secret escapades to build musical instruments, the child releases their grief about community members not accepting them due to the fact they have been adopted, saying: “The neighbors say that I’m not related to you. That I break tradition, and my lessons were a waste of time, too. They say I’m not from your caste and they were silent when I asked, what does that mean? It’s better if I’m not seen.”
When the child reveals the insecurities they have developed as a result of both external discrimination and the pressure their mother has put on them to succeed in the same way she has, the mother realizes that she has failed to understand her child’s experiences and interests. She asks the child to tell her what they are passionate about, and the child reveals their passion for inventing musical instruments.
At the beginning of the play, Ma can’t see the child’s work as art. Ma begins the story with a narrow view of what the proper process is for learning a traditional art form and what constitutes good art. She realizes through her child that one can practice arts in new, creative ways that exist outside the rigid, formulaic (some may say Brahminical) tradition of how the classical arts are taught. The narrator says:
“Seeing, touching, and hearing what her child had created, Ma finally realized that you didn’t have to be formally trained step by step in order to become an artist, but you could develop as a creator just through exploring.”
The point of bringing up caste in this play was to show the real discrimination that exists in our community and how it might affect a young child. We wanted to get caste privileged people to think about casteist behaviors they often imagine themselves to be immune to. To make them think about the time they talked about caste behind someone’s back and the impact that could have on someone’s psyche.
We could have made the choice to not talk about caste. In fact, we thought about leaving these lines out, aware about the potential backlash from right-wing Hindus we believed would be quick to call us Hinduphobic for bringing caste up as an issue. But we decided to take a risk and talk about caste, with Shruthi making musical choices to ensure these lines were amplified. Talking about caste is not casteist. As privileged caste people speaking to a largely privileged caste audience, we believed we needed to use this opportunity to push people to acknowledge the deeply problematic practices of our community.
After “Parivaar,” we received dozens of emails and comments from members of the community who expressed their appreciation for “Parivaar,” not just as a piece of art, but one that made them think about difficult issues. Dozens of people from diverse religious backgrounds and castes wrote to us thanking us for talking openly about caste and addressing it as a problem in our community, saying it gave them the chance to talk about caste discrimination with their families and friends. We acknowledge this was not everyone’s experience, but again, that is what comes from art — everyone takes something different away.
~
The above article is a frustrating example of why it is so hard to combat the Hindu right. While the right is united, the left is divided, and instead of challenging actual Hindu nationalists who are rife in our community, the authors have chosen to target two young South Asian American women who are actively involved in anti-Hindutva and anti-caste politics. In October 2023, Sravya faced doxxing and death threats from the Hindu right for her work with Hindus for Human Rights. It is painful when people we hope to be in solidarity with reject our explanations of our art in bad faith.
The article itself reveals several of the authors’ own biases. The child character is explicitly non-binary using they/them pronouns. The authors repeatedly refer to this character as “him.” The authors presume the mother to be dominant caste and the child to be of an oppressed caste, an assumption rooted in the casteist idea that Brahmins are the “owners” of classical South Indian music and dance when it has actually largely come from marginalized Devadasi and Isai Vellalar communities. The authors also make the claim — we certainly do not — that making an instrument is a “lower caste” art while “artistic prowess” is an “upper caste” domain. The story is in fact arguing the exact opposite. The story is about a mother realizing that their child, an inventor of musical instruments, is in fact an outstanding artist with a passion and gift equal to her own in classical arts. The authors’ comments say more about them than us.
Finally, the fight against Hindutva and casteism in our communities will only be successful if we are able to form a large diaspora coalition of Indian Americans committed to equality and social justice — and the reality is that our diaspora is predominantly made up of dominant caste Hindus. Conflating ordinary Hindu temples and associations like the India Association of Minnesota with right-wing Hindutva organizations like the Vishva Hindu Parishad and the Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh significantly harms our ability to build a coalition against Islamophobia and caste. Calling a celebration of South Asian art forms “boasting about Brahminical pride” is not only a significant mischaracterization, but an affront to the non-Brahmins, Bahujan, Muslim, Christian, and other non-Hindu people who participated in this show.
Art offers a possibility for us to reach audiences that are unlikely to pay attention to aggressive political messaging against caste and Hindutva with subtle nudges to think about critical issues. The hundreds of people who came to the show and felt the desire to write to us explaining how it challenged how they viewed art, the South Asian community, caste, and themselves, showed us that by and large, “Parivaar” worked.
Writers’ Rebuttal to the Creators’ Statement
The “Parivaar” creators’ emphasis on coddling the oppressor-caste sensibilities of their audience demonstrates a liberal discomfort with Hindutva that stops well short of actually rejecting the Brahmanical fascist ideology. In responding to our article, Sravya Tadepalli and Shruthi Rajasekar claim their production failed to fully reflect their “values.” If their purported “anti-caste narrative” fell flat due to a lack of “highlighting the diverse religious traditions of South Asians,” then they are admitting the solution lies in tokenization. Pushing a liberal-reformist ‘politics of representation’ that gives space to a few oppressed-caste peoples or religious minorities without explicitly addressing Hindu Indian chauvinism does nothing to combat fascism. In fact it’s the mirror of what is all-too common in this U.S. settler empire: oppressed and colonized peoples scattered on top of the machinery of white supremacy to make a monstrous system look ‘inclusive.’
Revolutionary theorist Ajith writes that, “Brahmanism thrives on the graded assimilation of the ‘other.’ It excludes the ‘other’ from an equal status precisely by allowing such graded space to it. It privileges itself by what may be termed as an ‘exclusionist inclusion.’” No amount of re-telling or reframing their story will erase the creators’ glaring oppressor-caste sympathies.
And this is not just an issue of caste but also how it intersects with a specific class position and outlook. Tadepalli and Rajasekar — currently and formerly attached to elite Ivy League institutions, respectively — seem to think their “choice of career” is somehow subversive while continuing to make art that caters precisely to the very Hindutva-friendly communities they came from: the Indian Savarna petty-bourgeois professional classes. By predicting “a predominantly dominant caste, Hindu audience,” they had a chance to craft a story that directly confronts those who have the most to gain from systems of caste oppression. Instead they make the lazy excuse about not wanting to “lecture.”
Focusing on the struggles against caste — or any oppressive order — cannot ever be effective if the goal is limited to just acknowledging “problematic practices.” Hindutva is not just “problematic,” it is an exterminationist ideology propelling mass murder and genocidal military occupation across South Asia and must be treated as an existential threat. Tadepalli and Rajasekar state the obvious, that “talking about caste is not casteist.” To that we add, talking about caste is not necessarily anti-caste. Recognition alone does not amount to seriously fighting caste and Hindutva fascism. The desire to ease oppressor-caste peoples into ‘dialogue’ about a murderous centuries-old hierarchy they actively benefit from is wildly inadequate.
If looked at through the lens of other struggles for liberation, Tadepalli and Rajesekar’s liberal cowardice is very noticeable. When Black people rose up against the racist terror of the police in 2020, white people talking about white supremacy were not at all taking a risk. And just talking about it does not mean they were taking any tangible concrete steps to betray whiteness. The same applies for struggling against Hindutva fascism.
As the RSS/BJP regime accelerates its attacks on Muslims, Adivasis, and anyone resisting their power in South Asia, an emerging anti-fascist consciousness in the diaspora must avoid the trap of appeasing privileged liberals. Tadepalli and Rajasekar position themselves as “anti-Hindutva,” which rings hollow when they defend organizations that platform fascists. The Indian Association of Minnesota, described by them as just an “ordinary” association that is nothing like the RSS front groups, provided the local Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh with a booth to promote its vile fascist activities as part of last year’s IndiaFest, held at the State Capitol in St. Paul. If the “large diaspora coalition” that “Parivaar’s” creators seek includes organizations that enable Hindutva propaganda, then it is by no means anti-fascist. Once again, their liberal approach betrays, on one hand, a discomfort with the most blatant and crude displays of Hindutva, and on the other, an embrace of the subtle injections of Brahmanical supremacy in art and broader diaspora spaces.
To “build a coalition against Islamophobia” requires solidarity with Muslim peoples targeted by the imperialist war machine, which is clearly not a priority for Tadepalli and Rajasekar since one of the musicians in their production was Minnesota state senator John Hoffman (DFL-MN34, Champlin) who has publicly stated support for Israel. On October 10, 2023, just as the Zionist settler regime — backed by U.S. imperialism — accelerated its ongoing war of extermination against the majority-Muslim people of Gaza — Hoffman declared his “Solidarity with Israel.” Tadepalli and Rajasekar seem to have no problem including figures like Hoffman in their artistic endeavors. It makes us seriously question their commitment to combating global systems of oppression, especially now as we see the expanding interconnections between Zionism and Hindutva.
Ultimately, the fear of “aggressive political messaging” speaks to the creators’ complacency, class comfort, and overall political worldview. What we see as contradictions and inconsistencies in their supposed “anti-Hindutva and anti-caste politics” are just the contortions of oppressor-caste liberals trying to normalize Hindutva without naming it as such.
About the authors:
Indira is an Indian writer who is interested in geopolitics, intersectionality of caste, class, gender and psychology of capitalism, fascism. They can be contacted by email: [email protected].
Rahman and Biplab are members of People’s Anti-Imperialist Study & Action (PAISA), and encourage South-Asian readers to reach out to heighten consciousness and coordination in this anti-fascist struggle. They can be contacted through Instagram @thirdworldpaisa and at this email: [email protected].
Printable PDF zine of Unveiling the Politics of Hindutva.
References & Further Reading:
- Hostile Homelands: The New Alliance Between India and Israel (2023) by Azad Essa.
- “Brahmanic Hindutva Fascism—The Ideological Basis of Comprador Bureaucratic Capitalism” (2022) by Prem, in People’s March Vol. 17 No. 3.
- “On the Specificities of Brahmanist Hindu Fascism” (2019) by K. Murali (Ajith), in On Concepts and Methods: “On Postisms” and Other Essays.
- “A Brief Introduction to Brahmanism” by K. Murali (Ajith), in Critiquing Brahmanism: A Collection of Essays (2020).
- “Hindu nationalism in the United States: Challenging racial subordination from the far right?” (2023) by Matthew N. Lyons.
- “The Hindu supremacist movement is a growing threat in the U.S.” (2023) by Cyrus Rab and Pushkar Sharma
- Sebastian and Sons: A Brief History of the Mridangam Makers (2020) by T.M. Krishna
- Republic of Caste: Thinking Equality in the Time of Neoliberal Hindutva (2018) by Anand Teltumbde.
Cover image by Niko Georgiades for Unicorn Riot using Creative Commons images and a drawing by Ruchir Lad.
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