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23 August 2024 at 9:59:04 pm

Cheap Shots

The continuing campaign to caricature Vinayak Damodar Savarkar says rather more about the impoverishment of India’s political discourse than it does about Savarkar himself. A recent viral video mocking him proffers the familiar spectacle of those who believe that reducing a complex historical figure to a punchline constitutes serious political argument. The most revealing aspect of the latest mockery is its casualness. It treats the man as though he were merely a political opponent from...

Cheap Shots

The continuing campaign to caricature Vinayak Damodar Savarkar says rather more about the impoverishment of India’s political discourse than it does about Savarkar himself. A recent viral video mocking him proffers the familiar spectacle of those who believe that reducing a complex historical figure to a punchline constitutes serious political argument. The most revealing aspect of the latest mockery is its casualness. It treats the man as though he were merely a political opponent from yesterday, rather than a revolutionary who spent years confronting the British Raj and endured the extraordinary brutality of Cellular Jail in the Andamans. The conditions of Kala Pani were marked by punishing isolation, hard labour, oil grinding and coir pounding, which were instruments of punishment designed to break prisoners physically and psychologically. The argument over his mercy petitions illustrates precisely this problem. Critics cite them as proof of capitulation while Savarkar’s defenders point to the circumstances in which they were written and reject the conclusion that they erase his revolutionary record. But even more telling is the erasure of the human cost borne by Savarkar and his family. In 1909, while he was in London, his four-year-old son Prabhakar died of smallpox. His brother Baburao was imprisoned and the family was subjected to severe persecution. Savarkar could not simply return home without exposing himself to arrest. At Brighton, amid this personal catastrophe and exile, he composed Sagara Pran Talamalala, a cry of longing for his motherland. One need not share Savarkar’s politics to recognise the human tragedy behind it. There is also a delicious irony in the selective memory surrounding him. India itself has never treated Savarkar as an uncomplicated historical footnote. It was the government headed by Congress scion Rahul Gandhi’s own grandmother - Indira Gandhi – that had issued a commemorative stamp bearing his portrait and the Cellular Jail. The country’s historical establishment has, at different times, recognised his place in the freedom struggle even while disagreeing profoundly with his politics. But today’s political class appears less interested in such complexity. Rahul Gandhi and other Congress leaders have repeatedly used Savarkar as a rhetorical punching bag, apparently calculating that attacking him is an easy way to attack the political tradition they oppose. A democracy does not become more liberal by making contempt its substitute for history. Savarkar does not need protection from criticism. It is Indian history that needs protection from intellectual laziness. The man can be debated and his ideas challenged. But what should not pass for political courage is the cheap denigration of someone like Savarkar, whose life was marked by sacrifice, imprisonment and extraordinary historical consequence unimaginable to his detractors. In fact, the real weakness of Savarkar’s detractors is not that they criticise him. It is that, so often, they seem incapable of doing anything more serious.

When the Princess Left Her Fortress…

Dec 30, 2024
4 min read

Updated: Jan 2, 2025

Princess Left Her Fortress

I recently saw a movie, it had this dialogue “teenage girls are psychopaths” and maybe it is right, maybe we are a generation full of messed up kids trying to survive in this deathly jungle we’ve created for ourselves. And this survival gets harder when you’re a 16-year-old that moves into a city way bigger than their own, to ‘step into the world’ with rosy dreams and rosy expectations. I am one of those 16-year-olds, who with very romanticised notions, very naively decided to step into the ‘City of Dreams’: Mumbai.


Mumbai, is probably 10 times the size of my not very humble, but very little town. Moving to Mumbai was my dream since 1st grade, and when that dream manifested, I was on Cloud 9. I thought my life would be perfect, I’d have the perfect group of friends, I’d go to fancy parties, I’d do lots of events in college, I’d be known, I’d be in my ‘Academic Beast’ ‘It Girl’ era and what not; but reality is pretty far from any of that. Back in my town, I was the top of the hierarchy, the Perfect Girl, centre of attention, the Lovely Queen; after moving to Mumbai, my life of the last 13yrs came crashing down on me. I became this introverted, invisible person; the friends’ group or lots of parties definitely did not happen, neither did the academic beast and It girl era.


I came to realise that Mumbai, no matter how pretty, beautiful and picture-worthy, is very harsh and extremely tough. No matter how much anyone says ‘Mumbai embraces all’, the ‘All’ still do feel left out to some extent, when everyone around you is this confident Mumbai Kid and you’re this awkward girl from out of town who knows nothing about the city, its people or its ‘culture’, who’s trying to push through this humongous crowd that’s, without trying very hard, swallowing you down; but standing here, watching this city move past me, I wonder Does Mumbai really not bother about anyone Or Is it just not willing to let you in?


But there’s still something to hang on to, somewhere to belong, isn’t there? When you go back home and you have friends there; Spoiler Alert: you don’t. When I went back home for my first holiday, I realised I didn’t belong there anymore, now I was the Mumbai Girl; 13yrs lost and forgotten, within 3 months. That’s when it hit ‘I’m all alone now’ neither do I belong in Mumbai, neither do I back at home. Trust me, I have never felt more lost in my life.


I’m the kind of people who thrive on attention and external validation, to have that very thing taken from me was very hard to live with. So, I chose to cope by holding on, holding on how? Well, simple tactic, making an indirect statement saying “you excluded me, but I belong in places better than you” how I did that? I held onto my past self, my actions were based on how pretty, fun and ‘happening’ my life was to look on Instagram. I did have fun, not that I didn’t, but most of it was for the eyes of the world and not my own satisfaction [it still is that way, I haven’t gotten any better yet].


Then came my midterms, and I wasn’t as great as I thought I’d be and my extracurriculars weren’t anything major either. That made me realise that I was like any other kid around me here, unlike when I was back home, always the different one, the one that stood out, and suddenly I didn’t anymore, I was ordinary. The realisation hit me, right in the face, hard and strong, that in this huge ocean, I was no whale or shark, just another little fish in the Shoal. My future suddenly became scary, thinking about college and university became terrifying and I just wanted to avoid it all, simply run away [I still do, sometimes] And now, I’m a mess.


But not all of it was bad honestly, Mumbai taught me a lot of things, it humbled me and it helped see: within myself and so many things about myself that I never really knew and were suddenly crystal clear in front of my eyes, as if a very loud noise had been shut down and I could hear clearly again. Back at home, I had this persona designated to me: ‘The Perfect Girl’ and suddenly I didn’t have to be anyone anymore, it was harder that way honestly, to not have a script to follow anymore. I had to discover myself and who I truly was for the first time Ever; I think that’s what I’m doing now, getting to know myself beyond who I was 6 months ago.


Things aren’t any better right now, I don’t think they will be for very long and sometimes moving here may seem like the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. So, this new year I have one resolution: I’m going to find who I am, a new persona, a new person, not defined by her past self, past life and this Social Jungle of teenagers she’s surviving in. This new year will be of rediscovery. So, here’s to 2025 and to all of us, whose lives changed because they stepped into the big, bad world out there; let us all be proud of ourselves as this year ends, because leaving our homes and lives behind is not easy and we lived that down: The Shift, the way it hit our egos and shattered our sense of belonging, but we didn’t run away, we strived through it and are surviving to see the light of day.


So, A Very Happy New Year People.


(The author is a student of St. Xavier College, Mumbai.)

1 Comment


Jayaram Kousik .
Jayaram Kousik .
Jun 12, 2025

Great write, yes Mumbai is a jungle and you have to fund your true bearings and none towards your destination

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