Once a firebrand who preached revolution,
Savarkar’s real legacy may lie not in resistance—but in revision, retreat, and
a loyalty for hire.
I. Prologue in Chains: The Revolutionary at the
Gallows’ Edge
In the early 20th century, the name Vinayak Damodar Savarkar stirred both
admiration and apprehension among the colonial authorities. A young barrister
with a razor-sharp intellect and incendiary prose, Savarkar authored The
First War of Indian Independence, 1857, a bold reinterpretation of the
Sepoy Mutiny that recast the uprising as a pan-Indian revolution—a joint
resistance by Hindus and Muslims against British rule. It was a vision of unity
born out of shared suffering, a plea to forge nationalism from common trauma.
This book, banned even before it reached Indian shores, catapulted Savarkar
to a cult status among militant nationalists. In London, he founded the Free
India Society. In Bombay, he inspired secret societies of armed youth. When he
was arrested for his involvement in revolutionary activities and transported to
the Andaman Cellular Jail in 1911, it was not as a mere dissident—it was as a
symbol of uncompromising resistance.
But symbols crack under pressure. And for Savarkar, the prison cell proved
not just a crucible of punishment but one of profound transformation—and
calculated recalibration.
II. Petitions from the Pit: The Price of Survival
In June 1911, scarcely a month after his arrival in Cellular Jail, Savarkar
submitted his first mercy petition to the British government. The revolutionary
who had once urged Indians to “burn down British flags” now pleaded for
leniency. That appeal, ignored, would soon be followed by others. In 1913, his
second mercy petition shed all ideological defiance, replacing it with
grievances about prison classifications, comparisons with fellow convicts, and,
crucially, declarations of political rebirth:
“[I]f the government in their manifold beneficence and mercy release me, I
for one cannot but be the staunchest advocate of… loyalty to the English
government.”
The shift was not merely rhetorical. It was strategic. Savarkar framed
himself not only as a reformed man but as a valuable asset—one who could bring
wayward revolutionaries back into the constitutional fold. His pitch was clear:
Convert me, and I will convert others.
This was not so much a surrender as it was a sale. And his price?
Redemption through rehabilitation, in exchange for repudiation of revolt.
III. From Empire’s Enemy to Nation’s Divider
When Savarkar was finally released in stages—first under surveillance and
then gradually integrated back into public life—it was not the same man who had
entered the colonial dungeons. The post-prison Savarkar did not return to a
struggle against imperialism. Instead, he trained his intellectual arsenal on a
new set of internal enemies: Muslims, Gandhians, Congressmen, and anyone who
threatened the hegemony of his idea of a Hindu nation.
This ideological evolution culminated in his articulation of Hindutva—a
term he deliberately distinguished from mere Hinduism. In his 1923 pamphlet Hindutva:
Who is a Hindu?, Savarkar proposed a cultural, ethnic, and territorial
identity in which true Indianness was inseparable from being Hindu by race,
culture, and land. Muslims and Christians, regardless of how many generations
they had lived in India, were foreign unless they acknowledged India as both Pitrubhumi
(fatherland) and Punyabhumi (holy land). Thus, belonging became
conditional—and nationalism, exclusionary.
Ironically, the man who once championed inter-caste marriages to unify
Hindus under one political roof now stood vehemently against inter-religious
unions. In his view, such marriages were not bridges but threats—dilutions of
cultural purity. Social reform was permissible, even desirable, but only if it
reinforced Hindutva’s internal cohesion, not if it fostered pluralism.
IV. The Darkest Doctrine: Justifying the
Unjustifiable
Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Savarkar’s later thought was his
moral descent into what can only be called ideological barbarism. In his
retellings of historical grievances—particularly regarding Muslim rulers—he
moved beyond critique into advocacy of vengeance. At his most extreme, Savarkar
justified rape as a tool of political retribution, especially during war or
historical redress. For a man who once argued for India's moral elevation above
colonial brutality, this was a descent into the abyss.
This rhetorical violence was not just theoretical. In the climate of the
1940s, with partition looming, such ideas fanned the flames of hatred and
suspicion. Although Savarkar was acquitted in the Gandhi assassination trial,
his ideological fingerprints were unmistakable in the atmosphere of hatred that
made Gandhi’s murder thinkable.
V. Legacy in Dispute: Freedom Fighter or
Proto-Fascist?
Savarkar's defenders continue to present him as a misunderstood patriot—one
who pragmatically adjusted his strategy to survive and serve. They hail his
promotion of scientific temper, abolition of untouchability, and support for
women's rights (again, within limits). Yet even these claims must be weighed
against the ideological rigidity that underpinned them. His social reforms were
never universalist—they were instrumental, designed to fortify a Hindu identity
that excluded more than it embraced.
His critics, on the other hand, see in Savarkar a cautionary figure: a
revolutionary who, when broken by empire, turned to mimic its tools—division,
hierarchy, and state violence—to shape a new dominion of his own.
VI. Conclusion: The Prison That Never Opened
The irony of Savarkar’s life is that while he was physically released from
the Cellular Jail, he remained mentally confined within the walls of vengeance,
purity, and exclusion. The real prison was not made of brick or iron—but of an
ideology that mistook grievance for vision, and retribution for justice.
From lion to lapdog, from rebel to reactionary—Savarkar’s journey is not
just the story of a man, but a mirror held up to the soul of a nation still
debating what freedom really means, and for whom.
About the Author
Siddhartha Mishra is an Advocate at the
Supreme Court of India. His writing focuses on the intersection of law,
history, and political thought. He can be reached at ssmishra33@gmail.com.
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