There’s so much bad news everywhere. Wars, riots, terror attacks, persecution, and discrimination. I don’t know about you, but I’ve started to feel helpless, knowing I hold no power to fix these problems. As individuals, there’s only so much we can do. What is in our control is how we express our views, calmly and with clarity. But even that becomes difficult when those around us try to silence any perspective that doesn’t match their own. They get aggressive. We get perplexed. It becomes a vicious cycle. One that’s hard to escape. It drains our time, disturbs our emotional balance, and pushes away those who genuinely want to understand us.
In the midst of all this, I recently attended an online yoga session on International Yoga Day. We meditated together as a group, and it turned out to be one of the most peaceful and calming experiences I’ve had in a while. The meditation lasted only 7 minutes, but it had a noticeable, immediate impact. I felt centred. It helped me go about the rest of my day with a calm focus, even while handling everyday chores or reading the news. This is new for me. For the past few years, my mind has been troubled by witnessing the coldness with which society operates. There was a lingering sense of doom that had become hard to manage. So when meditation helped soften that heaviness, even slightly, it came as a welcome relief. I allowed myself to sit with that emotion and savour it.
The guide assured us that the control over our minds would improve even further with consistent practice. He said that even just 7 minutes of daily meditation can make a noticeable difference over time. I’m still new to the practice, so it’s too early for me to say how lasting the effects are. But one thing I can say for sure: you feel noticeably better after just the first session.
What made those few minutes so calming was the simple act of focusing only on the breath and the space between the eyebrows. In that short span, there were no screens, no distractions. Just stillness. It felt like a small step toward making peace with myself. This is what I experienced in my first few days of meditation. I’m not sure yet if I can commit to doing it every single day, but it’s something I genuinely want to try.
I’m not the body, I’m not the mind
As we meditated, this chant of “I’m not the body, I’m not the mind” by Sadhguru played in the background, accompanied by soothing flute music. It felt like an invitation to disconnect from the body and mind, to simply let yourself be. You don’t have to react to everything. You can observe your experiences as an outsider, from a third-person perspective. Feel your emotions, acknowledge them, but don’t let them consume you beyond control so that you lose sight of logic.
If you’re interested in trying the same meditation, you can do it at home by downloading the “Miracle of Mind by Sadhguru” app on your phone. The session includes the same calming chant and ends with a short 1-minute video from Sadhguru, offering simple insights on daily practice.
Now, I understand some may have reservations about Sadhguru due to political or personal views, or unverified claims. But I’d encourage you to look past that and focus instead on what this practice can offer you personally.
I’ve tried other meditation apps too, but they often felt too Western in their approach. This one, however, feels grounded in Indian sensibilities, with gentle flute music and guided instructions that actually help you stay focused. In a culture where complete silence isn’t always easy to adapt to, this format works well. It’s thoughtfully designed for an Indian audience, making meditation more accessible and less intimidating.
The protagonist of Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata is unlike anyone I’ve encountered in any book. Keiko is quietly charming, yet deeply unconventional. She’s content with her simple routine at a convenience store, a place she has worked for over 18 years. This does not gel well with people around her who expect her to climb the career ladder, or “at least get married”, instead of sticking to this “lowly” job. They are unable to comprehend her happiness or her emotional detachment in situations where strong feelings are typically expected. In her own words, she’s a “foreign object.”
There are parts of Keiko’s personality I could relate to, especially her tendency to operate more from the brain than the heart. I’ve often questioned this trait in myself, particularly in political matters, where I naturally lean toward a calculated, strategic view rather than reacting emotionally. This sometimes makes people see me as cold. But that’s where my similarities with Keiko end.
I tend to get deeply emotional about things that may not always move others in the same way. My responses aren’t absent, like Keiko’s. I cry easily when I see children being affectionate with their parents or when animals are hurt. I feel emotional and distraught when I see small children picking up guns or stones in conflict zones. I want them to study and grow up contributing to society in peaceful ways. I well up seeing warmth in society. For example, when the visually impaired children sang “Happy Birthday” to our Indian President Murmu, she cried, I cried, we all cried. I’m also deeply moved by the struggles of elderly people, perhaps because I’ve spent time with them and seen what many others, especially those living far from their parents, often overlook. I do feel deeply, just not always in ways others expect, a bit like Keiko.
If you are wondering what makes Keiko strange, this snippet from the book gives an idea:
I wouldn’t say I loved Convenience Store Woman, but it was certainly thought-provoking, especially how society treats you as a “foreign object” that needs to be discarded if you don’t follow the rules. Society insists Keiko must adapt to its norms to be seen as “normal.” It does not matter to them how fulfilled or happy she is. Keiko’s struggle to meet societal expectations forms the core of the novel. Many of us might relate to this struggle with conformity. Not everyone is wired to follow every rule or expectation to the letter.
Ending this post with some thought-provoking quotes from the book:
The normal world has no room for exceptions and always quietly eliminates foreign objects. Anyone who is lacking is disposed of.
He seemed to have this odd circuitry in his mind that allowed him to see himself only as the victim and never the perpetrator l thought as I watched him.
It occurred to me that it wasn’t such a stretch to say that contemporary society was still stuck in the Stone Age after all. So the manual for life already existed. It was just that it was already ingrained in everyone’s heads, and there wasn’t any need to put it in writing. The specific form of what is considered an “ordinary person” had been there all along, unchanged since prehistoric times I finally realized.
“Look, anyone who doesn’t fit in with the village loses any right to privacy. They’ll trample all over you as they please. You either get married and have kids or go hunting and earn money, and anyone who doesn’t contribute to the village in one of these forms is a heretic.”
There’s so much I want to say about Being Hindu in Bangladesh, a book written by Avishek Biswas and Deep Halder, but I don’t think my words would do justice to my emotions. Whatever I write would be a watered-down version of what I felt while reading.
The authors are sons of refugees who once fled Bangladesh. They wrote this book during Sheikh Hasina’s rule, a time when they could safely visit Hindu areas and speak openly with locals, scholars, and researchers about the past.
It was a deeply uncomfortable read. Especially as I kept coming across recent posts from people in Bangladesh on Reddit, worried about the country slipping back into radicalism. It felt like history was repeating itself. On top of that, there were people, including the global and Indian left-leaning media, trying to downplay the communal angle in Bangladesh so as not to flare up Islamophobia. As an ex-leftist, this behaviour is all too familiar. I was once part of that ecosystem.
Despite being a Hindu, I could not acknowledge the persecution that Hindus faced in neighbouring regions. The data was there for everyone to witness, yet I was blind. I believe this is true for many Hindus. We are raised with strong secular values, which often makes it uncomfortable to openly acknowledge or speak about atrocities against our own community. Personally, it was difficult to break out of that mindset and accept the reality that Hindus did face genocide in Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Kashmir. Adding to that is the consistent bias of left-leaning media, which often avoided reporting anti-Hindu communal incidents both in India and abroad. This selective activism played a key role in my decision to step away from the leftist ecosystem.
Sahidul’s narrative states: ‘The genocide orchestrated and masterminded by Pakistan, began on the night of March 25, 1971 … Three million were killed (in East Pakistan), 200,000 to 300,000 women were violated in the most diabolic ethnic cleansing since the days of the Holocaust. And these are just rough estimates. How much does the world or even the subcontinent talk about it?
Most Painful Part of the Book
The most aching part for me was the quiet optimism in the book. Written during Sheikh Hasina’s rule, the authors were hopeful about the secular path Bangladesh was taking. They welcomed the ban on JeI and the arrests of those involved in the Hindu genocide of 1971. I read those pages, and then Al Jazeera’s headline from a few days back: “Bangladesh Supreme Court lifts ban on Jamaat-e-Islami.” I feel a mixture of emotions.
The authors also appreciated the death sentence awarded to a Jamaat leader involved in the 1971 genocide of Hindus. That sentence, too, has now been overturned in current-day Bangladesh under Yunus’s rule. Makes you wonder – is justice so fickle?
Opposition to Bengali Because It Was Too “Hindu”
From the book, I learned that Pakistan was opposed to Bengali in East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) because they considered the language “too Hindu” as opposed to Urdu. When East Pakistan demanded a new nation on the basis of Bengali culture, Pakistan thought Hindus were responsible for this “brainwashing”, which is what led to the genocide.
The Pakistani Army launched Operation Searchlight for complete cleansing of the Bengali and Hindu identity. Even the press secretary of the third president of Pakistan, Yahya Khan, said that this operation was to ‘brainwash the people, wean them off their Bengali mores and make them true Pakistanis … The Hindu influence must be eradicated root and branch and the people who were misguiding the innocent and illiterate masses must be liquidated.’
Tagore’s Home Vandalized in Bangladesh. News Source: NDTV
Truth be told, I was thinking while reading the book, how long would it take for the pro-Pakistan radicals in Bangladesh to go after anything related to Tagore, the Hindu writer of Bangladesh’s anthem “Amar Sonar Bangla” (My Golden Bengal), and then the vandalism of Tagore’s home happened. I wouldn’t be surprised if they replace the anthem, too, at some point in the future.
Jogendra Nath Mandal – The Dalit Leader Who Chose Pakistan
It’s from the book that I came across the name Jogendra Nath Mandal for the first time. He was a Dalit leader and a close associate of Dr. Ambedkar. At the time of Partition, Mandal chose to side with Pakistan, believing it would offer Dalits greater freedom and rights than a Hindu-majority India. He motivated many Dalits to migrate with him, promising an escape from caste oppression.
Mandal, the man who wanted Pakistan to become a land of Dalits and Muslims.
But what they found was a harsher reality. Regret followed soon after. Mandal eventually fled Pakistan and returned to India. Sadly, many Dalits who followed him to Pakistan lacked his privilege and means and were left behind. His popularity waned after that, and he died a lonely death in West Bengal. To quote the book:
Mandal had come to India from East Pakistan as a broken man. Arguably, the tallest Dalit politician in pre-partition East Bengal, Mandal had lost most of his followers after he chose Pakistan over India, stood with Muhammad Ali Jinnah and became the law and labour minister. Mandal had thought Dalits and Muslims would behave like brothers in the newly-created Pakistan. They didn’t, and as communal tension rose and Hindus left East Pakistan for India in large numbers, Jogendranath Mandal came to be looked at as a short-sighted leader at best and a self-serving politician at worst.
Dr. Ambedkar, upon learning about the persecution of Dalits in Pakistan, urged them to return to India. However, most were unable to leave, trapped by circumstances beyond their control.
I encourage everyone to read the following Reddit post that offers a more complete account of Jogendra Nath Mandal’s life. It includes his resignation letter to the Prime Minister of Pakistan and Dr. Ambedkar’s heartfelt appeal to Dalits living there.
Mandal’s story reminds us never to forget history or its lessons. These accounts were documented by key figures of that era for a reason. Not to be ignored, but to help us reflect, understand, learn, and avoid repeating the same mistakes in the future.
Quotable Quotes from Being Hindu in Bangladesh
‘Yes, only two people might have died in Noakhali in last year’s violence. But look around and you will find boys and men without an arm or a leg walking around. They will remind you of what was.’
What was it like in 1946? When freedom from 200 years of British rule was becoming a reality, Bengali-Hindu women and men, in village after village in Noakhali district of undivided Bengal, the same place where we now are, were r*ped and killed, or forcibly converted. Then too, it had started with fake news.
‘I have never been able to forget those days,’ she says, ‘when neighbours became rioters and friends became murderers. The stench of blood haunts me to this day.’
‘I remember he would come and tell us to make sure no one made any sound, and make sure that the children remained silent. It should appear from outside that the college building was deserted. Or else, a mob could come and kill us all. But my seven-month-old sister cried out in hunger. We gave her some treacle to make her stop crying, but she would start wailing soon after. My father told us that we had to kill her as she simply wouldn’t stop crying. And her wails would bring the mob to us. She cried and cried, till she cried no more.’
In other riots, religion was the point of disagreement. In Noakhali, religion was also the instrument that ended the disagreement. The attacks in Noakhali on Hindus by Muslims ended when the Hindus became Muslims.
‘But it’s a mistake that all democratic governments make in trying to control one set of extremists. They often play with the other set that looks less worse than the other (but) in the course of time, they all become Frankensteins’ he said.
There’s something about discovering forgotten buildings where powerful men once lived, touring villages where they spent their boyhood. It is like sifting through dog-eared, yellowed pages of history. So much of what once was still hangs in the air. So many stories are kept alive by village elders who saw history take shape.
Conclusion
The book details several atrocities that are too graphic to include in this blog post. I strongly encourage everyone to read Being Hindu in Bangladesh for a clearer and unbiased understanding of the condition of Hindus in the country.
I’m a Palakkad native, and I had travelled home just to vote during the Lok Sabha elections. To make it clear, I have no loyalty to any political party and have voted for different parties over the years based on their performance and activism. I believe pledging unwavering support to any single party prevents us from critically examining their flaws. However, this time, voting for the CPI(M) was not an option, as I am well aware of its shortcomings during its second term in power.
I decided I would vote for Congress in the Lok Sabha elections. But then October 7 happened, and I saw Congress’s response to it, especially how they tried to silence Shashi Tharoor in Kerala for criticizing Hamas. It came as a shock and played a key role in changing my decision. That’s when I realized, unfortunately, this party is no different from those it criticizes. The Opposition parties in India excel at criticizing far-right Hindu groups, but avoid condemning far-right Islamist groups in society, fearing backlash from supporters.
People call out the BJP and RSS for sheltering far-right Hindus. But how is Congress different if it shelters far-right Islamists? Both cater to extremes. BJP voters are criticized for supporting a party that allegedly wants to turn India into a Hindu nation. Congress voters should ask themselves the same question: why support a party that mollycoddles groups that have once openly called for turning India into an Islamic nation? How would it make the majority of Hindus feel?
So, when people ask why Hindus vote for the BJP, the answer is simple. If the choice is between far-right Hindus and far-right Islamists, many Hindus will pick what feels safer. Left-leaning Hindus may sympathize with Islamist groups, seeing them as victims. But most in the community, just like any other community, vote on the basis of safety.
Congress and Islamist Ties
In the upcoming Nilambur by-election in Kerala, the Welfare Party has now openly declared its support for the Congress candidate.
To the uninitiated, the Welfare Party is the political arm of Jamaat-e-Islami Hind, a group known for its fundamentalist views. This group shares roots with the Jamaat movements in Pakistan and Bangladesh, which are often accused of anti-Hindu activities.
As per the New Indian Express report, “It’s learned that the Welfare Party, backed by Jamaat-e-Islami, has put forward various demands, including making it an associate party of the UDF. However, no assurance has been received in this regard so far.” This is a common far-right Islamist tactic in democracies across the world: try to join mainstream parties to gain power, resources, and reach. Once these groups gain enough strength, their true agenda emerges, often centered around enforcing religious doctrine. We see this happening in Bangladesh today. A similar pattern unfolded in Iran in 1979, when leftists and Islamists joined forces to establish an Islamic regime. This led to widespread persecution and the exodus of many Persians, some of whom sought refuge in India.
Many leftists, in both India and abroad, often align with Islamist groups unknowingly, driven by a genuine desire to support the persecuted and uphold justice. However, this well-meaning approach is frequently exploited by far-right Islamist groups for their own agenda. It’s fair to say that many on the left still operate with this same mindset, unaware of the long-term consequences.
Such Islamist groups remind me of the Persian movie “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” (playing on Amazon Prime), a 2024 crime drama film directed by Mohammad Rasoulof. The movie starts with an explanation of strangler figs, a type of parasite that grows on a host tree’s branches. As they grow, their roots reach the ground and thicken. Eventually, they wrap around the host tree, in a way “suffocating” it. Over time, the host tree dies from lack of light and nutrients, while the fig survives independently. I hope Congress and other left-leaning parties realize that they are the “hosts” in this equation.
Both the Welfare Party and SDPI have been trying to win Congress’s favour in Kerala. Their open support was clearly visible in places like Palakkad (my hometown). The fact that Congress is not distancing itself from these groups is a matter of concern. The party appears to seek the support and votes of such groups to win, which may explain its consistent silence or hesitation in condemning Islamist acts. But how far are they willing to go? Will there come a time when they finally strike deals with the devil because they can’t win anymore without their support or votes?
Valid Concerns
Can you really blame Hindus for refusing to vote for parties that associate with groups that seem more likely to drag India down a path similar to Pakistan or Afghanistan?
Let’s not forget the current state of Bangladesh. JEI has played a significant role in steering Bangladesh toward radical Islam. If India were ever to become an Islamic nation, it wouldn’t resemble the UAE or Bahrain. It would more likely mirror Pakistan or Bangladesh, where radical Islamist groups wield substantial influence. Unlike the Gulf nations, which strictly ban and suppress such groups, India still hesitates to even name them. The moment any criticism is raised, it’s quickly dismissed as Islamophobia by human rights activists.
No One’s Truly Secular
In the end, no one is truly secular. Most people vote thinking, “Which party is best for my community?” — not for the nation. That’s why, in Kerala, Congress is the preferred party for many Christians, and a large section of Muslims support the Muslim League. So why is the burden of voting on the basis of secularism placed only on Hindus?
I finished I Am a Trollby Swati Chaturvedi last night. It’s an insightful read if you’re unaware that the BJP, like all major parties, has a dedicated IT cell.
However, if you’re already familiar with the BJP’s IT cell, the book doesn’t offer much new, apart from a few interviews with former BJP insiders who strongly criticize the party. But in Indian politics, this isn’t unusual. Members who leave any party, be it the BJP or Congress, often openly highlight its flaws. This trend isn’t unique to the BJP.
The book also points out that Modi’s official Twitter handle follows some controversial right-wing accounts like OpIndia, which is a valid observation. This is somewhat unusual; I’m not aware of any left-leaning political leader or party officially following social media influencers or accounts considered far-left. In that sense, this could be something unique to the BJP, and worth re-evaluating if it raises credibility concerns.
All that aside, the author’s pro-Congress bias is evident. She claims Rahul Gandhi was becoming as popular as Modi and predicted strong results for the Congress in the 2019 elections (the book was published in 2017). She lays emphasis on Rahul Gandhi’s social media growth, rather than his on-ground political performance. Chaturvedi presents his increasing followers and engagement as indicators of his strength and popularity, which feels selective and somewhat misleading. To appear balanced, she briefly mentions 2–3 false narratives that were pushed by the Congress IT cell, but downplays their impact.
The writing has its issues. Critiquing someone’s views is fine, but body-shaming, stereotyping Indian men, and mocking someone’s English skills feels unprofessional, especially from a journalist aiming to be objective. For example, consider the sample below, where she generalizes right-wing “trolls”.
Chaturvedi also complains that trolls refuse to engage with her reasoning on why the BJP is problematic, yet admits she zones out when they begin to speak. This contradiction weakens her argument and suggests a similar unwillingness to listen.
Interestingly, the book indirectly acknowledges that mainstream media was largely pro-Congress in 2014 (and still is in states like Kerala), which made it difficult for the BJP to be heard without strong social media outreach (reference to this is below).
These are a few minor concerns I had with the book, but overall, it provides a revealing look into political online warfare, though not without its caveats.
The Monkey Dilemma 
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