Hindutva Music: Didi Maa Sadhvi Ritambhara As an Example of a Female Sadhu

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(This essay was originally submitted  in 2018 as part of the coursework for my M.Mus in Ethnomusicology at SOAS, University of London . I was reminded of it recently when I came across Professor Brahma Prakash’s article on Scroll.in entitled “Why the toxic beats of ‘Disc Jockey Hindutva’ are so dangerous for India”

Unfortunately, the YouTube video analyzed in the piece no longer seems to be on the site.  I hope the essay can still stand on its own merits. I will include a representative YouTube video of Didi Maa at the end of the essay.) 

Bhajan is the major genre of devotional singing in Hinduism. It is a loosely structured song, usually performed in regional languages. It can be sung by an individual or by a congregation.  Themes typically include ideas from scriptures, the teachings of saints and loving devotion to a deity.

Since I am from a South Asian background, I am familiar with bhajans. However, I have previously approached them through Hindustani classical music, in which the focus is on aesthetic beauty and using the bhajan’s lyrics to develop the raga. In a devotional context, in contrast, the words and the message of the bhajan can often be more important than the musical content.

In this essay, I will discuss Didi Maa Sadhvi Ritambhara’s performance of a Krishna bhajan “Aaj Gopal Raas Ras”, and compare her to the female sadhus studied by Antoinette Elizabeth DeNapoli in her monograph Real Sadhus Sing to God: Gender, Asceticism and Vernacular Religion in Rajasthan (Oxford University Press 2014) .  One of the major contrasts is that Didi Maa is involved in Hindutva politics, which would seem to contradict the role of the sadhu as someone who has renounced worldly life.  DeNapoli’s informants, on the other hand, are focused on singing to god as a way of serving humanity through seva.  Continue reading Hindutva Music: Didi Maa Sadhvi Ritambhara As an Example of a Female Sadhu

Why Pakistan Is a Colonial Project & India a Civilizational One

Posted on Categories Ancient India, BRAHM, Brown Pundits, Civilisation, Geopolitics, Hinduism, History, India, Pakistan, Partition, Postcolonialism & the Global South, Politics, X.T.MTags , , , , , , , , , , , , , 32 Comments on Why Pakistan Is a Colonial Project & India a Civilizational One

Over the past few months, I’ve noticed a marked improvement in the quality of conversation on BP. A large part of this, I suspect, is due to eliminating trigger-response dynamics; as seen when I barred Q on a technicality. It created space: suddenly, the commentariat was thinking, not reacting. In that quiet, something became obvious.

Whenever Kabir invokes “neutral experts,” they always seem to be Western, usually venerably white, often from institutions directly involved in the colonial rape of India. And yet these same voices are elevated as if they were impartial or above it all. They aren’t. They are the architects, not the observers. This is the paradox at the heart of Pakistan. Continue reading Why Pakistan Is a Colonial Project & India a Civilizational One

“Between Scripts, Beyond Borders: What It Means to Be a Punjabi Hindu-Sikh Sufi Poet in Urdu”

Posted on Categories Ancient India, BRAHM, Brown Pundits, Culture, Hinduism, History, Iran, Islam & the Middle East, Pakistan, Partition, Postcolonialism & the Global South, Politics, Race, ReligionTags , , , , , , , 11 Comments on “Between Scripts, Beyond Borders: What It Means to Be a Punjabi Hindu-Sikh Sufi Poet in Urdu”

“Between Scripts, Beyond Borders: What It Means to Be a Punjabi Hindu-Sikh Sufi Poet in Urdu”
By Manav Sachdeva urf Maasoom Shah


What is my being as a Punjabi Hindu-Sikh writer of Sufi Poetry in Urdu while living between Ludhiana, New Delhi, and New York? What does it mean to me, mean for me, and mean to other people as they look at me with equal parts wonder and disdain as I embrace Farsi and Urdu as my own as did my ancestors prior to partition when Urdu was a language of our regions, as Javed Akhtar once said about language being of regions rather than religions?


To be a Punjabi Hindu-Sikh writing Sufi poetry in Urdu is to carry the weight of centuries in my breath and the burden of a border in my bones. It means returning to a home I never left—and was never allowed to fully claim.
It means that when I write in Nastaliq script or even Roman or Hindi script but in Urdu, or quote Hafiz or write in Naskh in Farsi, I am not converting, betraying, or straying. I am completing a circle. One my ancestors began long before Partition redrew maps and mistrust into the fabric of everyday language.
As Javed Akhtar once reminded us, “Languages belong to regions, not religions.” I write in Urdu not because I am Muslim though I don’t deny that label for myself either, but specifically, because I am Punjabi. Because I am from a land where Heer ran through the fields, where Bulleh Shah danced with defiance, where Shah Hussain stitched poetry into the shawls of the soul.


It means I am watched—sometimes with wonder, sometimes with suspicion. Some marvel at the fusion: the New York poet invoking Mir and Ghalib in Brooklyn cafĂ©s, speaking of ishq-e-haqiqi in the same breath as trauma therapy and diasporic longing. Others look on with narrowed eyes, asking—silently or aloud—“Whose side are you on?”


To that, I say: I am on the side of poetry. Of shared breath across centuries. Of the tongue that trembles with truth regardless of script. Of the language that fed my grandfather’s soul in Amritsar and now finds voice again in mine in Washington Square or Connaught Place.


It means I translate myself daily—between identities, continents, alphabets. Sometimes I write Mohabbat in Devnagari. Sometimes I whisper shukr where others expect dhanyavaad. I live between the ik onkar and the bismillah, between naan and bagel, between Sufi silences and the American chaos of self-invention.


And what does it mean for me? It means freedom. It means rebellion. It means healing.


It means to remember that before Urdu became politicized, it was loved. Before it was feared, it was sung. It was the shared heritage of Lahore and Ludhiana–the cities of my father’s and my birth, Delhi and Dera Ghazi Khan–cities of ancestry, further and present.


I do not ask permission to write in Urdu. I write to reclaim what was always mine.


And what might it mean to others?

Maybe discomfort. Maybe curiosity. Maybe a slow awakening to the lie that language must belong to creed. Maybe the beginning of a reckoning: that art refuses to stay in its box, that love poems don’t ask for passports, and that faith is sometimes just the belief that what was broken can be made whole.

So I will continue.

To write qawwalis and qasidas and sehras and ghazals and nazms in cafĂ©s. To quote Baba Farid beside Rumi. To live as a bridge—not between East and West, but between the false walls we’ve built within ourselves. And if some still look on with disdain, let them. I am writing in the voice of my ancestors.

And they are no longer silent.

If You Have a Side, You Don’t Care for the Other Side

Posted on Categories Bahá’í, BRAHM, Brown Pundits, Culture, Hinduism, Iran, Islam & the Middle East, Partition, Postcolonialism & the Global South, Politics, X.T.MTags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 8 Comments on If You Have a Side, You Don’t Care for the Other Side

In a world increasingly defined by sides, partisanship often masquerades as empathy. Whether it’s Pakistanis performing concern for Indian liberalism, or Indians invoking the plight of Muslim minorities to score points against their ideological rivals, the truth is simple: if you already have a side, you’re not truly invested in the fate of the other.

This isn’t cynicism; it’s structure. Sides, by their nature, demand loyalty. And loyalty comes at the expense of dispassion. You can mourn injustice selectively, but don’t pretend it’s universalism. More often than not, tribalism puts on the mask of principle.

As a Bahá’í, I’ve been shaped by a millenarian vision that urges global unity; yet I’m also deeply influenced by Hindu pluralism and pagan elasticity. Nicholas Nassim Taleb once said the more pagan a mind, the more brilliant it might be (excellent article) because it can hold many contradictions without demanding resolution. That capaciousness allows one to see that not every question needs a single answer. Hinduism, with its deep pluralism, contrasts radically with Islam’s (and Judaism’s) uncompromising monotheism. And yet, these two traditions are bound together—enmeshed across centuries of history, thought, and blood. Their tension is real, but so is their shared life.

That’s the point: opposites don’t just coexist, they form a whole. But when we prescribe change for the “other side,” we ignore our own capacity for reform. It’s always easier to critique outward than to renovate inward. Especially in a world run by oligarchic elites and managed emotions, where empathy is choreographed and outrage monetized.

So no, the Dalit Muslims of Dharavi aren’t the problem. Nor are the marginalized Hindus of East UP and Biharis. The problem is that a single family can build a private skyscraper in Mumbai while the city gasps beneath it. It’s the system that rewards power accumulation, not its occasional victims, that should concern us.

I don’t offer neat solutions. Maybe it’s taxation. Maybe it’s redistribution. Maybe it’s noblesse oblige. But the first step is this: stop pretending your critique of the other side is altruism. It’s not. It’s strategy. And perhaps the more honest work begins at home—with your own side, your own people, your own self.

Let Hindus Decide for India

Posted on Categories BRAHM, Culture, Hinduism, India, Iran, Islam & the Middle East, Pakistan, Politics, X.T.MTags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 118 Comments on Let Hindus Decide for India

There’s a quiet but persistent coalition, inside and outside India, that seems intent on denying Hindus the right to define their own future. It includes unreformed Islamists who refuse to reckon with modernity, English-speaking liberal elites still shadowboxing for Nehru, minorities with veto power but no stake in cohesion, and a chorus of Western (and increasingly Chinese) voices, eager to manage India’s trajectory from afar. What unites them? A shared discomfort with Hindu political consolidation.

Let’s be clear: Hindu identity is not a new construct. Whether you place its roots 3,000 or 5,000 years ago, it’s one of the world’s oldest living civilizational continuities. That identity has always been plural, regional, and evolving. But it has also always been there; visible in memory, ritual, geography, and language. Today, that identity is waking up to its political form. And it will not be put back to sleep.

Hindutva is not going anywhere. Nor is the Indian Union. Those who hoped Kashmir would stay outside this arc have already seen the direction of travel. Pakistan’s decision to opt out of Hindustan, and then build an identity against it, has led not to strength but to strategic stasis. Bangladesh, too, for all its cultural richness, now stands as a separate civilizational lane. And so we arrive at the core truth: Hinduism and India are coterminous.

This isn’t a call for exclusion. But it is a reminder that those who opted out do not get to dictate terms to those who stayed in. That includes foreign commentators and diasporic gatekeepers alike. There is a difference between pluralism and paralysis. There is a difference between nationalism and denial. And if majoritarianism is the anxiety; perhaps the deeper fear is that Hindus are no longer apologizing for being the majority. Let India decide. Let Hindus decide. Let the world, finally, learn to listen.

How did we end up here…

Posted on Categories Geopolitics, Hinduism, Iran, Islam & the Middle East, Politics, United StatesTags , , , , , 36 Comments on How did we end up here…

Why does the liberal West seem to have this compact with Islam? On the face of it, the two philosophies cannot be more diametrically opposite. One is about tolerance and respecting other people’s beliefs, whereas Islam keeps trending towards rigidity, intolerance, and total submission.

Conversely, Hinduism, by nature an open, tolerant umbrella religion subject to constant revision and modernization, has ended up finding common cause with the conservative and traditionalist movements in the West.

The Liberal–Islamic compact…

Firstly, it was not unforeseen. Hitchens very famously warned against this, bitterly and at length. His last book* was God Is Not Great, in direct opposition to Allahu Akbar.
By its very nature, the liberal movement constantly morphs into sympathizing with the most antagonized part of society, that which is targeted by law enforcement the most.
In the ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s it was the working classes, until the brutality of the communist regimes of Pol Pot, Mao, and Stalin destroyed any hope of socialism becoming established in the West.
Liberalism then shifted to civil rights in the ’60s and ’70s. Here, there is meaningful change, and universal rights and anti-discrimination laws become widespread and enforced. Gay rights come next. Fast forward to the ’00s and ’10s and the crackdown against Islam unleashed by 9-11 etc: suddenly Muslims are oppressed by law enforcement, and the liberals find an erosion of the civil rights fought for so vigorously in the past decades. The Muslims resenting government surveillance and profiling suddenly find allies in the liberal movements. Helpful terms like “Islamophobia” are coined.

Continue reading How did we end up here…

The importance of being President

Posted on Categories Culture, Hinduism, India, RaceTags , , 29 Comments on The importance of being President

I’m writing this article because a) I feel quite strongly about it, b) it has been largely ignored in the foreign press.

Protocol in India is a hidebound affair, I would imagine the current system possibly has its origins in the Mughal courts, but it was the British who codified it to the extreme : designating the number of bows, whether one could sit or stand, who took order of precedence, what adornments were allowed. There are whole volumes dedicated to the subject, which I will happily continue to avoid.

The Indian state inherited a lot of this barely updated pageantry and continues to enforce these rules at every level of government. At the top of the protocol list, replacing the king is the President, the nominated monarch of the republic. This brings us to the slightly delayed point of the article, our current President. Droupadi Murmu.

Wikipedia will list her myriad achievements and milestone accomplishments, they speak for themselves. This isn’t about that (not to dismiss them, they’re just superfluous to the point I am trying to make). It is about the optics. A tribal woman is nominated the Queen. Protocol demands that every citizen gives her precedence over all others. In a country with a preference for fair skin above all else, for European features in their actresses, a tribal woman can never win a beauty contest. But she can far surpass it. She is the projected face of the country at foreign events, at international forums. It gives me great pride and joy to see her representing us everywhere, at royal events, at the Pope’s funeral.

Continue reading The importance of being President

đŸȘ™ What’s in a Name? Mukesh, Not Mukash.

Posted on Categories China, Culture, Geopolitics, Hinduism, India, Pakistan, X.T.MTags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 10 Comments on đŸȘ™ What’s in a Name? Mukesh, Not Mukash.

While reading Brad DeLong’s fascinating newsletter on centi-billionaires and political power (I’m going to ignore Elon’s self-imploding stunt), I noticed something that jarred me more than it should have: Mukesh Ambani’s name was misspelled as “Mukash.” A minor slip, perhaps. But it was the only error in a list that included Bernard Arnault, Warren Buffett, and Michael Bloomberg—men whose names command a certain global familiarity.

What does it say that even after spending nearly half a billion dollars on a wedding for his son, India’s wealthiest man doesn’t merit a spellcheck? It says a lot.

🧠 The Chimera of Respect via Capital Continue reading đŸȘ™ What’s in a Name? Mukesh, Not Mukash.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt—It’s a Dammed Indus Too

Posted on Categories Culture, Hinduism, India, Iran, Islam & the Middle East, Pakistan, Politics, Religion, X.T.MTags , , , , , , , , , , 160 Comments on Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt—It’s a Dammed Indus Too

By X.T.M | Acting Editor, Brown Pundits

“Qureshi” has glibly informed me that caste doesn’t exist in Pakistan, and that had I not deleted his comment, I would have seen his thoughtful explanation on why his ancestors would (or wouldn’t- tough to follow) have “embraced caste.”

Let’s address both claims.

I. Denial, and the Geography of Amnesia

First: the deletion. The reason I removed Qureshi’s comment was simple—it referred to “when the Hindus left Pakistan in 1947.” As if they left. As if it were a long vacation. That turn of phrase is emblematic of a deep, disturbing historical erasure—a civilizational amnesia that’s not just inaccurate, but actively offensive.

To phrase the violent dislocation of millions as “leaving” is a textbook case of internalized Hinduphobia—a posture so normalized in Pakistani elite discourse that it barely registers as cruelty.

This is not about word policing. It’s about confronting the inherited violence buried in euphemism. Continue reading Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt—It’s a Dammed Indus Too

The eyes have it

Posted on Categories Ancient India, Culture, Hinduism, History, India, ReligionTags , , , 8 Comments on The eyes have it

Back in boarding school, my roommate, a Tulu boy, used to have a picture of the gods local to his area. They were a pair of rough spheres containing gigantic eyes. He told me they are referred to as ‘Bhoot’ but were gods, definitely not ghosts. I suppose they had a connection to the Bhoot Kola made famous by the excellent movie Kantara.

The Bhoot Kola itself is a possession ritual performed by lower caste men and reminiscent of African tribal religions

Much later in life I saw these figures again – worshipped in Orissa as Lord Jagannath. The giant eyes placed in a circular setting was unmistakable. Jagannath however is wholly subsumed by the vedic/brahminical form of hinduism, surrounded by priests, bejewelled and receiving regular milk and ghee offerings.

Continue reading The eyes have it

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