2 days ago
Celebrating those who resisted invasions is not chauvinism — it's reclaiming history
Also by Shambo Samrat Samajdar
India's civilisational journey is one of unparalleled continuity — its roots run deep, nourished by thousands of years of spiritual inquiry, scientific advancement and cultural sophistication. Yet, the collective memory of Hindu empires that upheld this tradition seems to have faded from mainstream consciousness. For a country that takes justifiable pride in its freedom fighters, why do we not celebrate the heroes who defended this land centuries ago? Why are names like Ghori, Babur, or Aurangzeb more familiar to students than Lalitaditya Muktapida, Vikramaditya, or Krishnadevaraya? What became of the festivals that once commemorated Hindu sovereignty, cultural flourishing, and spiritual freedom?
This erasure was not accidental. Between the eighth and 16th centuries, India witnessed relentless waves of invasions. Its glorious temples — from Mathura to Somnath, Kashi to Vijayanagara —became the first targets of destruction. Over 12,000 temples are known to have been desecrated or demolished. Libraries were burned, idols mutilated, and scriptures lost. The purpose was not merely conquest — it was to uproot India's sacred geography and replace it with a different historical narrative.
Yet, India did not submit. For every invader, there rose a guardian of dharma. The resistance was not episodic — it was inspired by a sense of cultural and spiritual responsibility. The Vijayanagara Empire, for example, stood as a southern bastion against centuries of Islamic expansion. Under Harihara, Bukka, and later, the legendary Krishnadevaraya, the empire became a lighthouse of Hindu polity, temple architecture, Sanskrit learning, and inclusive governance. Its capital, Hampi, rivalled the world's greatest cities. Its fall in the battle of Talikota (1565) was not just a geopolitical event — it was a civilisational rupture.
But even from the ashes, the fire did not die. It flared once again in the heart of Maharashtra with the arrival of a lion-hearted warrior — Shivaji Maharaj. Shivaji was more than a military genius. He was a cultural visionary, a spiritual devotee, and a dharmic ruler. At a time when many Indian rulers had become vassals of invading powers, Shivaji declared swaraj — not just political independence, but a civilisational reclamation. He did not fight for territory alone. He fought for the right to worship freely, to rebuild temples, to protect women, to govern with justice, and to restore pride in the Hindu way of life. Shivaji's coronation in 1674 was an act of national renewal. Conducted by Vedic scholars with sacred rituals, it was a public declaration that the sanatan spirit of India still breathed.
Shivaji's governance was marked by pluralism, meritocracy and spiritual grounding. He appointed Muslims to key positions and protected mosques while rebuilding destroyed temples, defending sacred spaces, and promoting Sanskrit. For him, the Hindu Rashtra was not a theological state, but a dharmic society based on ethics, justice, and cultural confidence. His message continues to echo: Freedom is sacred, and to defend it is the highest form of worship.
If Shivaji was the sword of civilisational resistance, Swami Vivekananda was its thunderous voice in modern India. At the end of the 19th century, India was once again reeling — not under military invasion, but under psychological colonisation. Generations were taught to be ashamed of their roots, their gods, their texts, their identity. It was then that Swami Vivekananda stood at the Parliament of World Religions in Chicago (1893) and roared: 'I am proud to belong to a religion which has taught the world both tolerance and universal acceptance.'
His mission was not just religious — it was political in the most profound sense. He reminded India of her true identity. He reminded us that behind every temple, every Upanishad, every raga and sculpture, there was a soul — a mighty civilisation that once led the world in knowledge, trade, ethics, and spiritual wisdom.
To the youth, he said: 'Arise, awake, and stop not till the goal is reached.' To patriots, he said: 'Serve the motherland as God.' To all Indians, he declared: 'Let new India arise — from the grocer's shop, from the huts of fishermen, the cobbler and the sweeper.'
Vivekananda did not ask India to mimic the West. He asked her to be herself — to draw strength from her Vedas, her courage from her warriors, her inspiration from her sages.
Modern India has made extraordinary strides. But even as we fly missions to the Moon and craft digital economies, our roots must remain nourished. It is time to reclaim the festivals of our civilisational pride, not in hatred or chauvinism, but in truth, remembrance, and gratitude. We must remember the Hindu empires, the philosopher-kings, the warrior-monks, and the temple-builders who preserved the flame of Bharat through the darkest nights of history. This is not about rewriting history. It is about restoring balance, giving the rightful place to chapters long suppressed, and telling our children that before India was colonised, she was sovereign, scholarly, sacred, and strong.
Let us walk forward — empowered not only by economic progress but by civilisational consciousness. Let Shivaji's sword and Vivekananda's voice guide us in tandem.
Samajdar is clinical pharmacologist and diabetes and allergy-asthma therapeutics specialist in Kolkata. Joshi is a Mumbai-based endocrinologist
