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When we speak of India’s democracy, the word “representation” carries both hope and tension. From the earliest days of independence, the idea of who deserves to lead—and on what basis—has been a contested question. The debates of today, where caste identities and vote banks dominate headlines, are not new. In fact, they trace back to the very aftermath of 1947.

While the partition foregrounded religious divisions, a parallel strategy was already being seeded: the use of caste as a lever for political power. If Muslims were to become a consolidated vote bank in the new India, caste arithmetic was the other axis on which political fortunes could be recalibrated. It was a shift that, in 1948, turned deadly.

Agnitandav of 1948, my book, revisits the other side of this forgotten chapter—not the strategies of power, but the suffering of the innocent who paid the price when caste became a dangerous weapon in the hands of politics.

Reasonable discussion among the educated classes in India seems to be veering around to the inevitability of a break-up of Pakistan within the next three to five years. The exact time does not matter, and what is more meaningful is that a country that was set up as a client of the West, has since transformed itself as a rentier state, a garrison for hire, a cricket team with a country attached, an army with a country attached, a non-country, a collapsed state, a Muslim seminary, a poverty wracked land with a ruined riverine system that was the grain bowl of a country that was ahead of India in most economic indicators till 2000.

The Vedas, created thousands of years ago, do not owe their authority to anybody, they are themselves the authority, being eternal. They were never written, never created, they have existed throughout time; just as creation is infinite and eternal, without beginning and without end. And this knowledge is what is meant by the Vedas. ‘Śruti’ and ‘Smṛti’ in ancient laws are the source of guidance. ‘Śruti’ is apauruṣeyā, "not made of a man" but revealed to the Rishis, and regarded as having the highest authority; while the ‘Smṛti’ are manmade and have secondary authority. ‘Smṛti’, "that which is remembered", are a body of Bhartiya texts attributed to an author, traditionally written down, in contrast to ‘Śruti’ (the Vedic literature) considered authorless, that were transmitted verbally across the generations and fixed. 

Some events are remembered, taught, and commemorated. Others are quietly buried, their lessons left untold. The caste-driven violence of 1948 belongs to the second kind—an episode that scarred communities but slipped through the cracks of official memory.

Over the last few years, I've encountered these common questions from Indian citizens about delimitation, something most of us hadn’t even heard of a few years ago. I started writing some short articles about this around a decade ago, and my latest book, “India: Science, Politics, Geostrategy” from Garuda Press, assesses them with the wisdom of hindsight. The essence of my argument is that correct delimitation can occur only if the states of India are roughly equal in size, meaning we have around 75 states, each with a population of approximately two crore.

The partition of British India ranks among the most cynical and coldly calculated acts inflicted by a European colonial power as it surrendered the jewel in its imperial crown in 1947. The British have been known to draw lines on the world map to suit their economic, military and geostrategic interests, and call the divided bits countries. In most cases, these lines were drawn with diabolical foresight to keep the resulting countries prone to internal and external infighting.

The year 1948 is etched in India’s memory for the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi and the challenges of Partition. Yet, hidden beneath these national headlines, a different fire raged — the caste riots. These were not just clashes of communities but struggles where power, politics, and prejudice collided. Agnitandav of 1948 brings these forgotten events back to life, showing how ordinary families bore the brunt of caste-driven violence while extraordinary acts of compassion flickered in the darkness.

But why do these stories matter today? Because the wounds of caste continue to shape our society — and remembering 1948 is not just about the past, but about healing for the future.

Religion has never been Bharat’s idea or legacy. Its ‘Sanātana dharma’ consists of eternal laws and principles embedded in the science of nature that governs life. ‘Dharma’ represents the deepest metaphysical essence of a worldview that is universally applied and culturally all-encompassing. It stresses an enlightened pluralism that allows the existence of many paths with a divine self within. It refers to Ātman or spirit that does not vary from person to person; its inclusion, existentialism, and equality for all have been for real. Its unity of truth and existence via pluralism and multiculturalism requires stirring up consciousness without moralizing. ‘Dharma’ is both an individual conduct as well as the entire process of governance. 

Sanātana Dharma is not a religion; It has never had an established clergy or a central authority, and there has never been any final arbiter in the interpretation or application of dharma, no single text or theology, no prescribed rites or rituals, and whatever rituals that they do exist in the day-to-day living of the dharma are symbolic in nature. Sanātana Dharma has never been about mandatory or prescribed rules for ethical behavior; it does not posit absolute rights or wrongs and holds that everything is relative and contextual and the sense of right and wrong must arise only from one’s inner understanding, guided by the Buddhi or Ātman. The most important practice, therefore, is to awaken and cultivate the Ātman and the Buddhi of which spiritual discrimination – Viveka – is an essential part. Sanātana Dharma is not a set of dos and don’ts; the only thing of spiritual, social, and moral significance is the consciousness, which is incomparably more significant than a set of moral and social rules and laws.

Why I wrote Agnitandav

Every book begins with a question. Mine was simple but heavy: What happens when stories of pain are silenced for too long?

Growing up, I had heard fragments about the caste-driven violence of 1948. They were whispers, half-told tales, often avoided because they carried discomfort and shame. Over time, I realized that these silences weren’t just about the past — they shaped how we understood ourselves today. And that realization became the seed for Agnitandav of 1948.

Why I Wrote Agnitandav of 1948

I grew up listening to fragments of memories of riots of 1948. But they were often spoken in hushed tones, as if wrapped in shame or fear. Writing this book became my way of giving voice to those silences, so that the next generation does not inherit only shadows or false narrative where history should have stood. Couple of years ago, my father and I discussed writing about these events. We started compiling such events from various places and families. Thus the first book (in Marathi) got published. Over the period, we got more information which I included in this English edition for broader audience.

CONSTITUTION OF INDIA – PERSPECTIVES IN 2025

A constitution of a country is a document that incorporates the thoughts, feelings and aspirations of its people and is laid out as a formal document which assimilates these ideas into a standard operating procedure (SOP) for day-to-day governance of the country. All countries, barring a few (Israel, U.K., New Zealand, Saudi Arabia) have a constitution. Generally, a constitution is written when a country goes through a complete and drastic change in its form of government (India 1950, Australia 1901, Canada 1867), overthrow of a monarchy and adoption of democracy (France in 1791, Germany in 1919) or takeover by an autocratic regime (USSR 1924) and also its overthrow (Poland 1992). Stable democracies also periodically overhaul their constitutions, both to reflect better the changing aspirations of their people, and also the changes in their SOP for governance modalities (France, 1958; Nigeria 1999, Ghana 1992). The topic of this blog deals with this last point. Has India with its stable democracy reached a stage where its constitution needs a complete overhaul and makeover to better reflect its present condition than does the 1950 document with all its 105 amendments that have been included over the years?

“Unravelling Sanātana Bharat” – Bharat’s samskriti, and Sanskrit

Sanskrit language has been the unifying substrate of our dharmic samskriti and has profoundly shaped it. Dharma and Sanskrit are deeply intertwined. Without doubt, it is an understanding of Sanskrit, its inherent harmony and generative powers that enables dharma to flower. 

The non-translatable nature of Sanskrit and its deep meanings are compromised by the cultural digestion of dharma into the West through the inadequate translation of vocabulary. In the course of this digestion, crucial distinctions and understandings are lost, important direct experiences of the Rishis sidelined, and the most fertile, productive and visionary dimension of dharma eradicated and relegated to antiquity. Here are few examples demonstrating the non-translatability of the Sanskrit expressions, their commonly used English equivalents that are compared, and their limitations exposed: 

Ātman is not soul