As it is evident, Chattopadhyay’s criticism of exploitative and oppressive rulers, in defence of the suffering population of Bengal, has been given a deliberate communal twist in order to level false accusations of extreme Hindu nationalism against him.



The other major (and equally absurd) charge made against the author of Anandamath is of being an upholder of caste-privilege. During British Raj in India, (as has been magnificently demonstrated by Shashi Tharoor in his book, An Era of Darkness) there was a deliberate effort made by the colonisers to deepen the caste differences amongst the Hindus, as a part of the British colonial policy of ‘divide and rule’. This led to the transformation of a dynamic, mobile Indian society (where linguistic and geographical affiliations were no less influential than those based on caste) into a rigid, casteist one.

An important number of Brahmins thus entered the British bureaucracy in Bengal, owing to their superior education and the knowledge of the English language. Subsequently, a small community of English speaking, upper-caste Hindus came about, known at that time amongst the natives as the ‘Bhadralok’ (‘the civilised ones’). Many Indians at the epoch criticised the Bhadralok (sometimes rightfully so) for practising snobbery and elitism and it is no secret that there were indeed many an apologists of the British Empire amongst them.

However, it must also be acknowledged that there were many amongst this newly emergent class who believed that India still awaited a philosophical and cultural self-regeneration without which there could hardly be a substantial claim to the right of political self-expression. Chattopadhyay was certainly one of these Bhadralok, who strongly associated themselves with the golden age of the ‘Aryan’ (noble) Indians of the Vedic past and dreamt of an Indian renaissance.

These were the caste dynamics of Chattopadhyay’s life, thoughts and works, and hardly anything in them suggests even a remote allusion to casteism. In fact, there are strong suggestions in Anandamath itself of the need to annihilate the caste-system, so that Indians could stand against the invaders as a united people. The ‘children’ (sanyasis) of Anadamath had to undertake a sacred oath in order to be initiated into the brotherhood, which comprised a vow to renounce marital life, parents, friends, servants, wealth, property, pleasures, and fight till their ‘Mother’ was freed from the rule of invaders. One more vow, however was required, which is best expressed in the following passage of Anandamath (and which aptly dispels all falsehoods regarding casteism in Chattopadhyay’s world-view) where Mahendra and another patriot are about to be initiated into the sacred brotherhood by Satyanand:

“One other thing”, said Satyananda. “Caste. What is your caste? I know Mahendra is a Kayastha, but I do not know the caste of the other”.

“I am a Brahmin. I’m not married”, was the answer.

“Very good. Will both of you be able to renounce caste? All the Children are of equal standing. Under the terms of this great vow there is no difference between a Brahmin and a Shudra. What is your reply?”

“We will not make such distinctions. We are all the Children of the same Mother”.

The aborted Indian renaissance: Anandamath’s call of action to Indian academia.

Sudipta Kaviraj, in his book, The Unhappy Consciousness: Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay and the Formation of Nationalism in India, rather dextrously states that: “It was possible to change the past in the future, simply by making it the past of a different present.” While one can certainly debate Bankim’s nationalism or even question the ethical and philosophical axis of any definition of nationalism per se, it is hard to ignore the importance of the cultural vision for India as proposed in the novel. The ‘mother-as-she-was/as-she-will-be’ metaphor has larger implications than mere economic prosperity of a nation and its people. India’s philosophical and literary texts have long been forgotten and rejected by her own citizens, and foreign invasion (both British and Mughal) can only be held responsible partially.

Even after 70 years of Independence, India suffers from a philosophical amnesia. While the teaching of Western philosophy has prospered in Indian academic institutions, the teaching of Indian philosophical texts has largely been reduced to an odd module put together with badly translated extracts of Sanskrit texts and some introductory books by Dr S Radhakrishnan. Any further investigation and interest in Indian philosophical tradition is viewed with ‘progressive’ skepticism of conservatism and communalism.



Only self-proclaimed god-men, spiritual and mystical gurus have benefitted from this amnesia, having succeeded in creating a reductionist view of Indian philosophy to suit their own end of commercialising spiritualism. Just as India has abandoned and forgotten its argumentative and rational philosophical texts and procured for herself a simplified, commercial spirituality, the West has suppressed its spiritual heritage (the books authored by mystic and spiritual authors like Swedenborg, St Augustine etc. now lie gathering dust), thus creating a perfect and convenient interdependency that servers one particular ideology.

Chattopadhyay’s genius lies in the fact that he foresaw this intellectual crisis that has only recently emerged at the centre stage of national debate. And not only did the author of Anadamath successfully predict Leftist propaganda against India’s rich philosophical tradition, he even proposed a brilliant vision for combatting it (hence earning the eternal wrath of the Indian ‘liberals’). This vision comes across in the novel’s climax (after Satyananada successfully leads the ‘children’ to victory in battle against the British) when Satyananda is visited by the mysterious ‘healer’ (perhaps Chattopadhyay’s metaphoric personification of the divine) who tells the leader of Anandamath that he has played his part in the freedom struggle, and that he must now withdraw from any further agitation.

Satyanand, baffled, argues that the rule of invaders had not yet ended, and that India was still bound in shackles of servitude by the British. To this, the mysterious healer replies: