Where English becomes elitist, Sanskrit becomes a stunt, and truth becomes
the casualty.
When Swami Vivekananda stood before the World’s Parliament of Religions in
Chicago in 1893 and opened with “Sisters and Brothers of America,” he didn’t
just greet an audience—he stunned a civilization. He didn’t chant mantras or
wave flags; he simply spoke, in precise and dignified English, about India’s
spiritual depth and universal tolerance. For him, English was not a colonial
yoke—it was a chisel with which he carved out India’s identity on the global
stage.
Over a century later, the same Swami is remembered more for memes and
mantras than for the mind he was. The regime that never misses a photo-op on National
Youth Day invokes his name with robotic reverence, but fears the clarity of
thought that defined him. For all their saffron speeches and Sanskritized
slogans, today's rulers have neither his intellectual courage nor his inclusive
vision.
This is a government that uses tradition as camouflage and modernity as a
marketing campaign. It tells the poor to study in regional languages, but
ensures their own children are fluent in the best English-medium schools. It
shouts about decolonization from podiums while signing trade deals in
Oxford-accented diplomacy. In this doublethink dystopia, English is treason for
the masses but strategy for ministers.
They call English “Macaulay’s curse” in Parliament, only to use it on stage
at Davos and G20 summits. They erase colonial names of roads and cities, yet
run their digital infrastructure on American algorithms, their economy on
Chinese imports, and their narrative on British parliamentary theatrics. Even
the “Make in India” lion was designed in Switzerland.
At a time when the world is moving towards multilingual competence, India’s
cultural politics is pushing a false binary—English versus Indian languages.
But real empowerment isn’t in exclusion; it’s in access. Swami Vivekananda
understood this. He embraced English as a means, not an end—as a language to
reach out, not to bow down. He wanted Indians to speak with confidence and
compete with the best, without shame or servility. Today's leaders, however,
weaponize language as a tool of division, turning cultural pride into political
prejudice.
Vivekananda, who urged Indians to master English and Western science so
they could engage the world, is now reduced to a cultural mascot—wheeled out
during speeches, ignored in policy. “Education is the manifestation of the
perfection already in man,” he said. But what education is left when school
curriculums are rewritten to glorify myth over method, ideology over inquiry?
The New Education Policy promotes Sanskrit as a core language. Fine. But
where are the scholarships, research labs, and serious global collaborations to
elevate it from tokenism to scholarship? Instead, we see Sanskritised AI bots,
mythological WhatsApp forwards, and ministers pontificating about plastic
surgery in ancient India—all while millions of schoolchildren drop out for lack
of teachers and toilets.
In Vivekananda's view, true education was not about rote memorization or
blind obedience. It was about critical thinking, strength of character, and
self-realization. He envisioned an India where education would ignite
courage—not conformity. But today, that flame is dimmed by institutional
mediocrity and political interference. Our universities are starved of funds,
our research stifled by red tape, and our brightest minds pushed to seek
opportunities abroad.
Vivekananda wanted Indian youth to be physically strong, mentally alert,
spiritually fearless. What we have today is a government more interested in
grooming troll armies than thinking citizens. The young are not inspired to
question or create; they are trained to amplify hashtags, chant slogans, and
defend mediocrity. Instead of encouraging curiosity, the system incentivizes
conformity. Instead of nurturing debate, it breeds dogma.
This same regime builds bullet trains for headlines but lets ordinary
trains derail in silence. It spends crores on beautifying temples, but cuts
funding for scientific research. It sends spacecraft to the moon while children
in tribal belts study under leaking roofs. The contradiction isn’t just
staggering—it’s systemic. Development is curated for photo-ops, not designed
for equal access.
They say India is rising. But rising for whom? For those who speak
English on TV debates and Sanskrit in political rallies? For those whose
nationalism is measured in decibels? For those who rewrite history not to learn
from it, but to erase its inconvenient chapters? The idea of India as a
knowledge society is slowly being replaced by India as a controlled society—one
that prefers silence over speech, obedience over originality.
Swami Vivekananda said, “We are what our thoughts have made us; so take
care what you think.” But this government would rather control what we are
allowed to think. Criticism is treason. Dissent is sedition. And debate is
reduced to shouting matches between anchors and party puppets. The space for
intellectual disagreement is shrinking; the price for speaking truth is rising.
At the heart of it, the government’s appropriation of Vivekananda is not
homage—it’s hijack. They love his image, not his intellect. They exalt his
robe, not his reason. His idea of a spiritually awakened, intellectually
empowered, globally engaged India is too nuanced for their narrow nationalism.
His universalism jars against their sectarianism; his modernism clashes with
their medievalism.
So what would he say to a regime that uses Sanskrit for spectacle, bans
English for the masses, and rewrites history to serve ideology?
Perhaps he would say nothing.
Perhaps he would just walk away from the noise of TV anchors and the chants of
hired mobs. Perhaps, like in Chicago, he would just speak—in clear, firm,
elegant English—and leave the demagogues exposed.
Because real nationalism doesn't scream. It educates. And real spirituality
doesn't market itself—it enlightens.
About the Author:
Siddhartha Shankar Mishra is an Advocate at the Supreme Court of India. He
writes on law, politics, and culture, with a focus on constitutional values,
governance, and the distortions of public discourse. His work reflects a
commitment to intellectual clarity and democratic integrity in times of rising
majoritarianism.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment