Dharma Yudh: The BJP vs the Shankaracharyas and the Battle for Hinduism
Dharma Yudh: The BJP vs the Shankaracharyas
and the Battle for Hinduism
What India is witnessing today is
a Dharma Yudh, but not the one the ruling establishment wants the country to
believe in. This is not a war to protect faith or revive Sanatan values. This
is a confrontation between the Bharatiya Janata Party and the Shankaracharyas, a
battle over who gets to define Hinduism in public life.
For the first time in years, the
mask has slipped.
At the center of this
confrontation stand Narendra Modi, Amit Shah, and Yogi Adityanath, leaders who
rose to power by weaponizing religious sentiment and are now discovering that
religion does not automatically submit to political authority.
For over a decade, pliable
godmen, television gurus, and opportunistic religious figures helped convert
faith into votes. Hinduism was packaged, simplified, and broadcast as
spectacle. But the Shankaracharyas are not political freelancers. They are
custodians of a civilizational tradition that predates the modern Indian state.
And when they refused to play along, the BJP chose confrontation.
The immediate flashpoint was the
inauguration of the Ram Mandir.
Several Shankaracharyas declined
to participate, citing a principle that should not have been controversial
within Sanatan Dharma: a half-built temple cannot be consecrated as the abode
of the divine. This was not a political objection. It was orthodox Hindu
theology. In Hindu tradition, the divine is not summoned for election
calendars, television visuals, or political deadlines.
That refusal ignited the Dharma
Yudh.
The BJP did not respond with
humility, dialogue, or theological engagement. It responded with aggression.
Through compliant media and party surrogates, it began questioning the
religious legitimacy of the Shankaracharyas themselves, the same figures it had
earlier sought for validation. This was an extraordinary escalation: a
political party attempting to delegitimize centuries-old religious institutions
because they refused to endorse a political spectacle.
This was not devotion. It was
domination. From Ritual Dispute to Moral Indictment
The confrontation escalated
further when one Shankaracharya went beyond ritual disagreement and publicly
accused the Prime Minister of dishonesty toward Hindu society.
The accusation was specific.
Promises made repeatedly on issues such as cow slaughter and broader religious
commitments, according to the charge, were used to mobilize Hindu sentiment and
then quietly abandoned once power was secured. What was presented as devotion,
the accusation suggested, was transactional politics.
At that moment, the conflict
crossed a line.
This was no longer about
ceremonies or symbolism. It became an accusation of betrayal of faith being
used as a ladder to power and discarded afterward.
Since then, rumors and unverified
allegations have circulated within political and religious circles that
elements of the Uttar Pradesh administration attempted to intimidate or
endanger one of the Shankaracharyas using state machinery. These claims have
not been proven in court and must be treated with caution. But their
persistence, combined with the absence of transparent clarification, has
deepened fear and distrust.
In a functioning democracy, even
such allegations would trigger immediate scrutiny and restraint. Instead, the
dominant response has been silence, denial, or media deflection.
That silence matters.
When religious leaders accuse
political power of deceit, and the state’s response is pressure real or
perceived the boundary between governance and coercion begins to erode. Even
the perception that religious authority can be punished for dissent chills the
space between faith and power.
This is why this Dharma Yudh
cannot be dismissed as a personality clash.
It reflects a deeper ideological
problem. The BJP’s version of Hindutva demands obedience, not conscience. It
seeks rituals without rules, religion without restraint, and gods without
independent guardians. Faith is welcome only so long as it kneels.
The Shankaracharyas, for all
their conservatism and contradictions, represent a line that the Indian state
has rarely crossed before: religious authority that does not originate from
political power.
This is not a battle between
belief and disbelief. It is a battle between religion and political
appropriation.
Let us be clear: the
Shankaracharyas are not flawless. Their selective moral vision, resistance to
reform, and narrow focus on certain issues deserve criticism. But flawed
religious authority is still preferable to counterfeit moral authority
manufactured by the state.
False Hindutva is more dangerous
than orthodox conservatism.
When politicians claim spiritual
supremacy without spiritual discipline, religion collapses into spectacle. When
the media is deployed to attack religious institutions on command, faith
becomes propaganda. Sanatan Dharma, one of the world’s most plural and
philosophically layered traditions, is flattened into slogans and staged
devotion.
This is how civilizations hollow
out.
The BJP assumed religion could be
controlled indefinitely. The Shankaracharyas’ resistance has exposed that
assumption as arrogance. Elections may grant power, but they do not confer
spiritual legitimacy. Political dominance does not rewrite scripture.
That is why this confrontation
matters.
Not because the Shankaracharyas
are flawless, they are not, but because the moment a state begins to treat religious
dissent as treason, democracy stops being a system of balance and becomes a
system of obedience. When power refuses to tolerate moral resistance, it no
longer governs; it dominates.
In this Dharma Yudh, the question
is no longer who controls the narrative, the media, or the spectacle.
The question is whether India
will allow power to exist without restraint, unchecked by tradition, ethics, or
conscience and whether Sanatan Dharma will survive political capture by those
who claim to defend it while hollowing it out from within.
If religion is reduced to an
extension of the state, and the state is allowed to silence faith that refuses
submission, then this battle is already lost not just for Hinduism, but for the
republic itself.
Sanatan Dharma has survived
emperors, colonizers, and centuries of upheaval because it resisted central
control. If it falls now, it will not be because of external enemies, but
because it was surrendered from within by two men who confuse power with virtue
and dominance with devotion.
That is the real danger of this
Dharma Yudh.
And that is why false Hindutva
must be confronted not later, not cautiously, but now before power finishes
what it has already begun: turning faith into a tool, dissent into betrayal,
and democracy into a performance.
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