An interesting debate on the differences between Hinduism and Hindutva between Shashi Tharoor and Vinay Sahasrabuddhe. Shashi Tharoor is a member of Lok Sabha member from Congress Party while Vinay Sahasrabuddhe is a Rajya Sabha member from the BJP.
Issues discussed are triple talak, Sabarimala temple, cow slaughter ban, lynchings, Gandhi's use of religion, Muslim appeasement, citizenship in Northeast India, etc.
Shashi is a well-versed scholar on this subject. He has published a book, Why I am a Hindu, on this subject that has been well-received and praised by many for the succinct analysis of a very complex subject. Some excerpts from Urmi Chanda-Vaz's review for Scroll.in are copied below. The review can be read here.
Why I Am A Hindu, running close to 300 pages, is divided into two sections, the first of which offers a brief history of Hinduism. The first chapter is titled “My Hinduism”, presented in what can be called the Devdutt Pattanaik mode. It is a clever and necessary disclaimer underscoring subjectivity – especially useful for times when religious sentiments are easily hurt. Tharoor acquaints us with the kind of Hinduism he was raised with, and, along with a sprinkling of anecdotes, gives an overview of the religion...
The second part of the book is titled “Political Hinduism”. This is where Tharoor’s meticulous context-building through the history of Hinduism is particularly useful. He starts building his case with the idea of secularism, which becomes a moot point when viewed through the prism of Western political theory. The right term in the Indian context, he argues, is “pluralism”, for India is and has long been a land of many religions. Further, he says, religion when defined as “dharma” is impossible to divorce from the Hindu way of life...
The author explains the BJP’s brand of Hindutva politics as being based on a victim-turned-avenger complex, a narrative of failure and defeat, and hatred for the Muslim community. Even if one were to turn a blind eye to the clear lack of Muslim representation (at least in the Lok Sabha) in this government, one can hardly ignore visible and worrying trends such as lynching and cow vigilantism. Ideas like ghar waapsi and love jihad, and groups like gau rakshaks and “Anti Romeo squads” operate and thrive under the aegis of the ruling party, and Tharoor correctly echoes the alarm of peace-loving Indians in this context.
He also critiques the “cultural project” of Hindutva, which aims to “nationalise and spiritualise”. By all means acknowledge the great accomplishments of ancient Indian science, but keep fact and fiction separate, he enjoins.
“We should take pride in what our forefathers did but resolve to be inspired by them rather than rest on their laurels. We need to use the past as a springboard, not as a battlefield. Only then we can rise above it to create for ourselves a future worthy of our remarkable past.”
He also strongly condemns the whitewashing, or saffronising, of India’s cultural past vis-à-vis the actions of vigilante groups such as the Bajrang Dal and, most recently, Karni Sena. Not just tolerance, but acceptance, is the hallmark of Hinduism, he reminds the reader again and again.
