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The Hindu
11-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
Vikrant Bhise's shades of blue
When Vikrant Bhise, 40, had his first big South Mumbai show, Hum Dekhenge (We Will See), in 2024, he gave the politically somnolent neighbourhood a booster shot of hidden-in-plain-sight history. 'Lots of people from the movement came,' the multi award-winning painter recalls. There was everything from Ambedkari jalsa (anti-caste protest poetry and songs) to Dalit Panther magazine archives that belonged to its co-founder Raja Dhale, and other invocations of Bhim, a rallying cry for Ambedkarites. Residents of Ramabai Ambedkar Nagar chawl in suburban Ghatkopar stood in front of his paintings of the 1997 riot where police fired on those protesting the desecration of a statue of B.R. Ambedkar, and soaked in the portraits of the 10 victims. 'That's my uncle,' one visitor told Bhise. It was an important moment for an artist who is driven to paint the unseen and untold. 'This is my calling,' says Bhise, who witnessed the riot from his uncle's house. 'These are my stories.' His work seems even more urgent at a time when these histories are being deliberately erased and/or co-opted. Some visitors said they didn't know such things had happened in Mumbai and that too 'so recently'. Now you understand why the artist is on a mission to take our 3,000-year history of caste-based oppression to a wider audience and disillusion those who believe the caste system is dead. Pain, people and protest Bhise is prolific. He may set out to make 50 multi-layered works and end up with 120 as it happened with Archival Historicity, inspired by Dalit Panther pamphlets from the 1970s and showcasing their inspiration, the Black Panther Party, founded in California in 1966. (The series is ongoing; Bhise sees it as his 'daily diary'.) Some of these works were acquired and are on permanent display at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco. At his first solo show in Noida in 2023, there were some 400 works, including a 16x10 foot mural of the 16-year-long Namantar struggle that centred around renaming a university in Maharashtra's Aurangabad, and the 10-panel 'Quest For Justice' inspired by protests past and present that stretched across 40 feet. 'When I see the works of Renaissance painters, they're mostly about war and fighting, about the depiction of real things,' he says. 'This is our renaissance.' On display at the just-concluded Summer Berlinale were five panels or 20 feet of the Mahad Satyagraha, the 1927 non-violent movement led by Ambedkar for the right to access public water. Change is here, but its pace is not enough for the artist. 'We keep thinking how far we've come,' he says. 'But it's been 100 years and only one community does the waste collection and sanitation work.' From the precarious lives of workers to scholars driven to suicide by casteism, all find representation in Bhise's labyrinthine artworks bursting with pain, people and protest. Bodies are entwined in conflict and change in paintings with shades of blue that range from the palest sky to the deepest indigo. Painting untold histories While Bhise's works have always centred caste, labour, poverty and justice, it was only after the citizenship protests in 2019, the COVID-19 lockdown, and the farmers' protests, that he began painting Ambedkar, a leader who was invoked in all of these moments. 'Wherever there is injustice, there is Ambedkar,' Bhise says. His first portrait in 2021, titled Labour Leader, was of a worker using a rag to wipe a statue of Ambedkar. The man cleans the statue with his right hand as his left hand rests over Ambedkar's eyes. You could say it represents the uncovering of hidden history. 'Who killed Nitin Aage?' Bhise asks this question in the title of a painting about an intercaste love affair that ended in the brutal murder of a teenager. Like Aage, Bhise fell in love with a Maratha woman, Siddhi, who he met in art school, and they married despite family opposition. Now he dodges their four-year-old twins, Abir and Kabir, instructing them to stay away from his materials, as he paints in the midst of his fatherly life, grabbing every chance to work. 'There's no waiting for the right mood,' he says. He also spotlights the everyday joy and inspiration a community relies on in the midst of oppression, whether it's the annual gathering at Mumbai's Chaityabhumi, where Ambedkar was cremated; or humanitarian idols such as Jyotiba and Savitribai Phule; a euphoric indigo representation of a Jayanti; or the red wall of his parents' home. 'I want people to see Ambedkarite lives,' he says. 'Our houses are also different, our food, our literature, our living style, the colour palette…' Recently, his paintings have been displayed at prestigious venues such as Art Dubai and Art Basel. Coming up are Bergen Assembly in Norway and Frieze London, among many others. 'My works were shown in 20 group shows last year,' he says, still slightly incredulous about the growing interest in his art. It was after the Noida show that the art world really embraced Bhise's stories. All the years of working with a courier company until he took a big leap to follow his passion and study art, and then a long stint as an art teacher and tutor, have finally paid off. Now he can devote all his time to painting the histories that nobody told us about. The writer is a Bengaluru-based journalist and the co-founder of India Love Project on Instagram.
The Print
27-04-2025
- Politics
- The Print
Why Dalit conversion to Buddhism hasn't taken off, and how it still can
Sunita's experience reflects the silent resistance that confronts many who dare to leave the Hindu fold. A mass conversion event in the presence of Aam Aadmi Party leader Rajendra Pal Gautam in October 2022 snowballed into political controversy over the 22 vows, which included: 'I shall have no faith in Brahma, Vishnu, and Maheshwara, nor shall I worship them. I shall have no faith in Rama and Krishna, who are believed to be the incarnation of God, nor shall I worship them.' Consider the story of Sunita, a Dalit woman from Hathras, Uttar Pradesh. In 2020, she and her family, along with others, converted to Buddhism after facing caste-based violence from dominant-caste neighbours. They stopped being invited to village functions, lost access to the community well, and were told to stay out of the village temple permanently. 'We thought we were freeing ourselves,' she said. 'Instead, we became invisible.' 'I was born a Hindu, but I will not die a Hindu,' Dr BR Ambedkar once famously said. And he did not renege on his words. On 14 October 1956, Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution and champion of Dalit rights, stood before a crowd of over 5 lakh Dalits in Nagpur and renounced Hinduism. In its place, he embraced Buddhism, not merely as a spiritual choice, but as a political declaration of freedom. The moment was electric. It felt like the beginning of a revolution that would unshackle millions from the age-old chains of caste. Yet, over seventy years later, the wave never became a flood. According to the 2011 Census, Buddhists account for just 0.7 per cent of India's population. Of those, nearly 90 per cent are Ambedkarite Dalits, mostly concentrated in Maharashtra. So, why did a movement expected to liberate tens of millions stall? The answers lie in a complex web of politics, economics, culture, and identity. These can be boiled down to eight points. Also Read: Buddhism has just been reduced to anti-Brahmin thought. But it shaped Hindu reforms too Leadership vacuum after Ambedkar Ambedkar's death just weeks after his historic conversion was a blow to the fledgling movement. Without his moral and intellectual leadership, the conversion wave lost direction. Dalit politics splintered, focusing more on electoral gains and caste assertion within Hinduism than on religious transformation. While the Bahujan Samaj Party did raise Dalit consciousness, it did not champion Buddhism with the same fervour. Dalit Panther started off strong but soon died out, and the Republican Party of India is also fragmented into groups. Worse, no national leader of Ambedkar's stature has emerged to carry forward the flame of Navayana Buddhism — his reinterpretation of Buddhism as a socially engaged, rational path for the oppressed. Economic insecurity and fear of boycott Dalits remain economically vulnerable. According to the National Sample Survey Office (NSSO), Dalits have significantly lower land ownership, literacy rates, and access to capital. For many, especially in rural India, dominant caste networks control jobs, credit, and basic survival. Conversion often means social boycott, job loss, or worse—violence. There are tons of stories about Dalits being assaulted just for being assertive—for riding a horse, keeping a 'Jai Bhim' ringtone, keeping a moustache etc. If there's no violence, there's an all-around social boycott, against which even the authorities are powerless. It's a high-stakes gamble for people who have little to begin with. Hinduism's absorptive power Hinduism is remarkably adept at absorbing dissent. Over the decades, it has co-opted Buddha as an avatar of Vishnu, repositioned Ambedkar as a national hero (often stripped of his anti-caste radicalism), and incorporated Dalit deities into its pantheon. Most foot soldiers of the BJP are from marginalised communities, while the Baniya–Brahmin caste groups play the role of office bearers. Tell me — how many Brahmins demolished Babri with their own hands? How many Brahmins were directly responsible for the killings in the 2002 riots? It was all carried out by foot soldiers like Babu Bajrangi, mostly from OBC backgrounds. I have a personal anecdote to share here. My nephew heads the Shiv Sena (Shinde faction) office in Goregaon West, a suburb of Mumbai. He comes from a not-so-well-off neo-Buddhist background, but is a supporter of the Hindutva agenda. He's been to this year's Maha Kumbh, campaigned for the party during the 2024 state elections, and also took out a bike rally during the inauguration of the Ram Mandir at Ayodhya, supporting his larger Hindu brethren. He's clearly doing it for political clout and to rise up the ranks. But probably the rest of the cadre see him as a workhorse, or someone they can bank on to get the Dalit votes. This leaves him in a precarious position of being 'neither here, nor there' when it comes to an openly Hindu nationalist party like the Shiv Sena. And he's not the only one. I've been to Dalit homes that have a big garlanded picture of Ambedkar in the living room, and Hindu gods in the kitchen. This dilution has further taken away the essence of Ambedkar's progressive Buddhism as an answer to years of oppression. Meanwhile, reformist Hindu sects like Arya Samaj and Ramakrishna Mission offer a supposedly caste-neutral version of the religion that keeps people within the Hindu cultural fold. This co-option blunts the revolutionary edge of conversion. Lack of Buddhist infrastructure Unlike Hinduism, Buddhism in India lacks a robust ecosystem of temples, rituals, clergy, and educational institutions. Outside of Maharashtra, it's often invisible. Dalit converts find themselves without spiritual guidance or cultural support. An example of this is the ongoing Mahabodhi temple protests, where the temple management is exclusively in Brahmin hands. Many countries with large Buddhist populations, like China, Japan, and Vietnam, have built temples in Bodh Gaya, but there's little political support from them because their understanding of Buddhism is different from ours. Buddhism in India is more of socio-political religion, while in many East and Southeast Asian countries they worship Buddha as a regular 'magical sky god' with elaborate rituals. In urban India, stripped of Ambedkarite radicalism, Buddhism has also become a fancy, Zen-like lifestyle choice for many. Moreover, Buddhism in its Ambedkarite form has yet to develop widely accepted rites for birth, marriage, or death — key moments in the life of any community. Without a parallel spiritual culture, people often revert to Hindu practices by default. Hindutva and state hostility In recent years, religious conversion has become a politically charged issue. Anti-conversion laws in several states require prior approval from authorities, making the process bureaucratically daunting and socially dangerous. The rise of Hindutva ideology has only worsened the climate. Conversion is framed as a betrayal of the nation, and Dalits who convert are labelled as traitors, tools of foreign influence, or anti-Hindu. Buddhism, as a non-Abrahamic religion, also lacks the monetary support that Christian missionary networks enjoy. These are now deeply embedded within India, propagating their religion through experiential marketing like schools, hospitals etc. Buddhism does not have the same marketing muscle due to lack of interest from Buddhist countries in propagating the faith in India, as well as the ingrained detachment that is central to its teachings. Psychological conditioning and internalised oppression Centuries of oppression do not fade easily. Many Dalits have internalised the idea of caste hierarchy as divine order or karmic destiny. Despite suffering, some cling to Hinduism out of spiritual familiarity or fear of the unknown. There is also emotional attachment to cultural festivals, temples, and rituals. Leaving Hinduism may often feel like cutting off one's roots. Buddhism is probably the only big religion in the world which does not have a holy book, holy month, or a single, worshipped place of origin (like Mecca or Jerusalem). Technically, I would say Buddhism is much closer to atheism due to its lack of a rigid value system and liberal structure of rites and invocations. Communication gap and narrative failure The Buddhist movement has largely failed to capture the popular imagination. There are few films, stories, songs, or festivals that make Ambedkarite Buddhism aspirational or emotionally resonant. The movement has remained too academic, activist, or region-specific. Ambedkar's teachings, while profound, are often presented in jargon-heavy or ideological formats that alienate common audiences. Meanwhile, Hinduism thrives in mainstream media—from devotional serials and Bollywood blockbusters to festivals that dominate public spaces. Without storytelling, symbols, or rituals that speak to the heart, Buddhism risks being seen as emotionless or disconnected. The absence of cultural products that celebrate Buddhist identity weakens its appeal among youth, who crave both meaning and expression. Also Read: Tamil Nadu to set up its 1st Buddhist museum in Nagapattinam, where the religion thrived under Cholas Urban mobility and shifting priorities For some upwardly mobile Dalits, especially in urban areas, caste has become less visible. Reservation benefits, education, and jobs have given a sense of social escape without religious rupture. These individuals may not see conversion as essential for liberation. However, this is often a superficial escape. Caste prejudice still exists in universities, offices, and even matrimonial sites. But for those climbing the ladder, rocking the boat may seem unnecessary. There's also a growing detachment from collective movements as individual success becomes the priority. Moreover, the neoliberal narrative of meritocracy and personal branding dilutes the urgency of mass conversion. Young Dalits in cities may choose silence over assertion, seeing religion as private rather than political. Without a visible incentive or community framework to support conversion, many remain passive bystanders. How do we reignite the movement? If Ambedkarite Buddhism is to flourish, it needs more than memory; it needs momentum. Here are some ways forward: Grassroots education: Invest in spreading Buddhist philosophy in local languages through books, workshops, and community centres. Cultural production: Encourage the making of films, songs, art, and stories that showcase Buddhist values and Ambedkarite ideals in emotionally resonant ways. Develop Buddhist rituals and spaces: Create meaningful rites of passage and build temples, meditation centres, and community halls that can support spiritual and social needs. Leadership development: Identify and nurture Dalit leaders who can articulate a modern, inclusive, and inspiring vision of Buddhism. Legal support and awareness: Provide legal aid to protect converts and educate people about their constitutional right to religious freedom. International alliances: Partner with global Buddhist organisations for support, visibility, and solidarity. Make it aspirational: Shift the narrative from victimhood to pride, from suffering to empowerment. Conversion must feel like an upgrade, not an escape. Ambedkar saw Buddhism not as an end, but as a beginning; a spiritual scaffolding for dignity, reason, and social equality. The dream has dimmed, but not died. The chains of caste still rattle, but the key remains within reach. Perhaps the next revolution won't begin with a single man in Nagpur, but with thousands reclaiming their humanity, one vow at a time. The moment is waiting. The question is: are we ready to move from memory to movement again? Vaibhav Wankhede is a creative marketer and writer. Views are personal. (Edited by Asavari Singh)
