The Folly of Pride in Birth and the Power of Personal Achievement

 In a country as diverse and culturally rich as India, identity often shapes how we see ourselves and others. From caste and religion to ethnicity, social class, and even physical appearance, many take pride in traits they inherit at birth. But what if this pride is misplaced? What if the things we hold dear—our fair skin, our upper-caste status, our ancestral lineage—are merely the luck of the draw? This article explores why we, especially in India where such thinking is yet to permeate the mainstream, should rethink pride in inherited traits and instead celebrate what we achieve through effort, values, and growth.

The Illusion of Inherited Pride

Let’s start with a simple truth: none of us choose our birth. You didn’t decide to be born into a Brahmin family, a Dalit household, or a wealthy clan. You didn’t pick your religion—be it Hinduism, Islam, or Sikhism—nor your ethnicity, whether Ancestral North Indian (ANI), Ancestral South Indian (ASI), or Australo-Melanesian (AASI). Your gender, your mother tongue, your skin tone, or your social class? All handed to you by the cosmic lottery of genetics and circumstance.

So why take pride in these? If your parents are rich, you’re rich. If they’re upper caste, so are you. If they have fair skin, chances are you do too. But what did you do to earn these traits? Nothing. They’re not achievements; they’re inheritances. Taking pride in them is like boasting about winning a lottery you didn’t even buy a ticket for.

This mindset is especially pervasive in India, where caste, religion, and skin color often dictate social hierarchies. Fair skin is celebrated, with fairness creams flooding the market. Upper-caste surnames open doors, while lower-caste ones invite prejudice. Religious identity can spark both unity and division. Yet, these are all accidents of birth. You could just as easily have been born into a poor family, a marginalized caste, or with darker skin. The arrogance that sometimes accompanies these inherited traits—looking down on others for their caste, color, or class—is not just unfair; it’s illogical.

Pride in inherited traits doesn’t just fuel personal arrogance; it perpetuates systemic harm. It reinforces casteism, colorism, and classism, dividing communities and justifying discrimination. If we recognize that these traits are mere luck, we can begin to dismantle the hierarchies they uphold.

What Deserves Pride?

If we shouldn’t take pride in what we’re born with, what should we celebrate? The answer lies in what we do—the choices we make, the effort we put in, and the values we embody. Here are qualities and achievements that truly merit pride, because they reflect who we are, not what we were given:

1. Overcoming Adversity
   Facing hardship—be it poverty, discrimination, or personal trauma—and coming out stronger is a testament to resilience. In India, where systemic barriers like caste and economic inequality persist, rising above these challenges is a profound achievement.
2. Kindness and Empathy
   Choosing to treat others with compassion, especially in a society where divisions run deep, is a quiet but powerful act. Helping a stranger, standing up for the marginalized, or simply listening with care—these are choices that define character.
3. Hard Work and Discipline
   Whether it’s studying for years to crack a competitive exam, mastering a skill, or grinding through a tough job, consistent effort deserves recognition. In a country of 1.4 billion, where competition is fierce, discipline sets you apart.
4. Creativity
   Writing a poem, painting a mural, inventing a solution, or expressing yourself uniquely is a gift to the world. India’s rich artistic heritage—from classical dance to modern cinema—shows the power of creative achievement.
5. Self-Improvement
   Breaking bad habits, prioritizing mental health, or building physical fitness takes courage and commitment. In a society where stigma around mental health persists, seeking therapy or practicing self-care is a bold step.
6. Helping Others
   From volunteering in your community to mentoring a child, making a positive impact is invaluable. India’s tradition of seva (selfless service) reminds us that helping others is a universal good.
7. Moral Courage
   Standing up for what’s right—whether it’s calling out casteism, challenging corruption, or defending a minority—requires guts. In a complex society like India’s, moral courage is rare and precious.
8. Independence and Responsibility
   Taking care of yourself, supporting your family, or being a reliable friend reflects maturity. For many Indians, shouldering responsibilities early in life is a badge of honor.
9. Learning from Failure
   Admitting mistakes, adapting, and moving forward is a sign of strength. In a culture that often fears failure, embracing it as a teacher is revolutionary.
10. Building Something Meaningful
    Starting a business, raising a family, or launching a community project—anything that adds value to the world—is worth celebrating. India’s entrepreneurial spirit and tight-knit communities thrive on such efforts.

Why This Matters in India

In India, inherited identities like caste, religion, and skin color are deeply ingrained. They shape marriages, job prospects, and social interactions. While these identities can foster community and belonging, they also breed division and entitlement when tied to pride. The upper-caste individual who feels superior, the fair-skinned person who looks down on darker tones, the wealthy who dismiss the poor—these attitudes stem from a flawed belief that inherited traits reflect personal worth.

By shifting pride to personal achievements, we can build a more equitable society. Imagine an India where people are celebrated for their kindness, their hard work, their courage—not their caste, color, or class. This mindset doesn’t erase cultural heritage; it reframes it. You can cherish your language, your traditions, your roots, but recognize them as gifts, not trophies.

A Call to Reflect

Next time you feel a surge of pride in your caste, your fair skin, or your family’s wealth, pause. Ask yourself: Did I earn this? If the answer is no, let that pride soften into gratitude. Be thankful for the advantages you’ve been given, but don’t let them define your worth. Instead, channel your energy into what you can control—your actions, your growth, your impact.

In a country as vibrant and complex as India, let’s redefine pride. Let’s celebrate the student who studies by candlelight, the worker who supports their family, the activist who fights for justice. These are the stories that matter. These are the achievements that endure.

So, what are you proud of? Not what you were born with, but what you’ve done. Share your story, and let’s inspire each other to focus on what truly counts.

The Unintended Consequences of Hate Speech in India: How Division is Fueling Conservatism Among Indian Muslims

 

The Unintended Consequences of Hate Speech in India: How Division is Fueling Conservatism Among Indian Muslims

In recent years, India has witnessed a troubling rise in hate speech, particularly targeting Muslims, driven largely by far-right Hindu nationalist groups. Since 2014, this rhetoric has intensified, with inflammatory speeches, social media campaigns, and public demonstrations painting Muslims as outsiders or threats to the nation’s fabric. The intended effect, presumably, was to marginalize and weaken the Muslim community. However, the outcome has been strikingly different: rather than fracturing Muslims, this wave of hostility has fostered greater unity and a return to conservatism among them. Simultaneously, this cycle of hate is amplifying tensions across communities, creating a dangerous atmosphere that could spiral into mass violence if left unchecked.

A Shift Toward Unity and Conservatism

Before 2014, many Indian Muslims, particularly in urban and progressive circles, embraced a more relaxed approach to their faith. Missing the occasional namaz, skipping a few rozas during Ramadan, or adopting liberal lifestyles were not uncommon. However, the relentless vilification of Muslims by far-right groups has triggered a profound shift. The constant portrayal of Muslims as a monolithic “other” has instilled a sense of existential threat, prompting even the most liberal Muslims to reevaluate their identity and practices.

Mosques that once saw sparse attendance are now bustling with worshippers. Ramadan, the holy month of fasting, has become a period of near-universal observance, with even those who once skipped rozas now adhering strictly to the fast. This isn’t merely about religious devotion; it’s a response to a perceived siege. When a community feels targeted, it often turns inward, seeking strength in shared identity and traditions. For Muslims, this has meant a return to orthodoxy, as religious practices become symbols of resilience and defiance against those seeking to erode their place in Indian society.

This phenomenon is not unique to Muslims. Historically, marginalized groups under attack — whether religious, ethnic, or cultural — tend to consolidate their identity as a form of self-preservation. In India, the Muslim community’s growing conservatism is a direct reaction to the insecurity fostered by hate speech and discriminatory policies. Far from weakening them, the far-right’s rhetoric has inadvertently unified Muslims across class, region, and ideological lines.

The Vicious Cycle of Hate

The dynamics of hate speech in India don’t end with one community’s response. It’s a vicious cycle where each act of provocation fuels a counter-reaction, amplifying communal tensions. When a Hindu nationalist leader delivers a hate-filled speech targeting Muslims, it quickly circulates within Muslim communities, sparking outrage. In response, some Muslims may retaliate with inflammatory rhetoric of their own, targeting Hindus. These clips then make their way into Hindu nationalist circles, further stoking anger and justifying more hate speech. It’s akin to the conservation of energy, except the energy doesn’t remain constant — it grows with each exchange, pushing both sides toward greater polarization.

Social media has been a key accelerant in this process. Platforms like WhatsApp, X, and YouTube allow provocative content to spread rapidly, reaching millions within hours. A single viral video of a hate speech can ignite passions, deepen mistrust, and harden divisions. What begins as a localized incident — a politician’s divisive remark or a communal clash — can snowball into a national issue, with each community feeling more aggrieved and emboldened to retaliate.

A Ticking Time Bomb

This atmosphere of mutual distrust and escalating rhetoric is a ticking time bomb for India. A nation as diverse as India thrives on coexistence, but the current trajectory is eroding the social fabric that holds it together. The amplification of hate speech risks normalizing communal violence, as charged rhetoric can easily spill over into physical confrontations. History offers grim warnings: from the partition riots of 1947 to the Gujarat riots of 2002, India has seen how quickly communal tensions can escalate into widespread bloodshed.

The long-term consequences of this polarization are dire. A divided society cannot progress economically, socially, or culturally. Trust between communities, once broken, takes generations to rebuild. Moreover, the growing conservatism among Muslims — and, in parallel, the increasing assertiveness of Hindu nationalist identity — could lead to a more fragmented India, where dialogue and mutual understanding become relics of the past.

The Role of Political Myopia

At the heart of this crisis lies the short-sightedness of political leaders. For many, hate speech is a calculated tool to consolidate votes by appealing to communal sentiments. The immediate payoff — electoral success — blinds them to the long-term damage they are inflicting on India’s social cohesion. Politicians on all sides, whether stoking Hindu nationalist fervor or exploiting Muslim grievances, are playing a dangerous game. Their rhetoric may win elections, but it is sowing the seeds of discord that could destabilize the nation for decades.

What these leaders fail to grasp is that peace and stability are the bedrock of progress. A nation consumed by communal strife cannot attract investment, foster innovation, or ensure the well-being of its citizens. By prioritizing votes over harmony, they are gambling with India’s future.

A Path Forward

Breaking this cycle of hate requires urgent action from all stakeholders — politicians, civil society, media, and citizens. First, hate speech must be unequivocally condemned and penalized, regardless of the community it targets. Laws against incitement exist, but their enforcement is often inconsistent or politically motivated. Strengthening and depoliticizing these mechanisms is critical.

Second, social media platforms must take greater responsibility for curbing the spread of divisive content. Algorithms that amplify sensationalist and hateful material need to be reined in, and stricter moderation policies enforced.

Finally, fostering interfaith dialogue and community engagement is essential. Grassroots initiatives that bring Hindus, Muslims, and other communities together can rebuild trust and counter the narrative of division. Education, too, plays a vital role — curriculums that emphasize India’s pluralistic heritage can shape a generation less susceptible to communal propaganda.

Conclusion

The far-right’s campaign of hate against Muslims has backfired, uniting and strengthening the very community it sought to weaken. But this unity, born of fear and defiance, comes at a cost. The growing conservatism among Muslims, coupled with the escalating cycle of communal rhetoric, is pushing India toward a dangerous precipice. If left unchecked, this polarization could unleash violence and division on an unprecedented scale. It’s time for India’s leaders and citizens to recognize the stakes and work toward a future where unity, not hate, defines the nation. The alternative is a fractured India, where no one wins.

The Indian Obsession with Purity: A Legacy of Caste, Color, and Culture

 In India, the word "pure" carries a weight that transcends its dictionary definition. It’s not just a descriptor—it’s an aspiration, a status symbol, a moral compass. From "pure vegetarian" restaurants to "pure ghee" labels, from the fetishization of fair skin to the reverence for "purebred" dogs, this obsession with purity seeps into every corner of life. And if you trace its roots, you’ll find it tangled in the ancient vines of Hinduism—specifically, the Brahminical framework of caste purity. What starts as a cultural quirk reveals itself as something deeper: a systemic lens that shapes preferences, prejudices, and power dynamics. It’s too much. It’s racist. It’s casteist. And it’s time we talked about it.

The Sacred and the Spotless

Hinduism, one of the world’s oldest religions, is a tapestry of philosophies, rituals, and contradictions. At its heart lies a concept that has fueled this purity fixation: the idea of ritual cleanliness, or shuddhi. For Brahmins, the priestly caste historically positioned at the top of the varna system, purity was both a spiritual and social currency. To maintain their elevated status, they adhered to strict rules—avoiding "polluting" foods like meat, enforcing endogamy to preserve lineage, and distancing themselves from "impure" occupations or people. Over centuries, this wasn’t just theology; it became a blueprint for social hierarchy.

Fast forward to today, and you see echoes of this everywhere. "Pure veg" isn’t just a dietary choice—it’s a badge of moral superiority, often tied to upper-caste identity. A friend once told me her landlord refused to rent to non-vegetarians because they’d "taint" the kitchen. Taint it with what? The ghost of a chicken drumstick? It’s absurd until you realize it’s not about the food—it’s about signaling purity, a vestige of Brahminical values that still holds sway.

Then there’s "pure ghee." Walk into any Indian grocery store, and you’ll see it emblazoned on labels like a holy grail. Ghee, clarified butter, is sacred in Hindu rituals, but the obsession with its purity—free of adulteration, made from the "right" cows—feels like a modern extension of that old caste logic. It’s not enough for it to taste good; it has to be untainted, a word that carries a loaded history.

Fair Skin, Pure Blood

The purity fixation doesn’t stop at food. It’s in our bodies, too. India’s love affair with fair skin is no secret—Fair & Lovely (now rebranded as Glow & Lovely) built an empire on it. Matrimonial ads still shamelessly list "fair complexion" as a prerequisite, as if melanin is a moral failing. Dark skin? A curse. Fair skin? A blessing, a sign of purity. This isn’t just colorism borrowed from colonial baggage; it’s older than that. Ancient texts like the Rigveda associate light with divinity and darkness with chaos, a binary that caste ideology latched onto. Brahmins, often depicted as fair-skinned in popular imagination, became the ideal; lower castes, toiling under the sun, were darkened—both literally and metaphorically.

And then there’s caste itself. The preference for "pure" lineage is still alive in arranged marriages, where families scour family trees for any hint of "impurity"—a lower-caste ancestor, a mixed marriage. I’ve heard aunties whisper about someone’s "tainted blood" as if it’s a genetic scandal. Even pets aren’t spared—purebred dogs like Labradors or German Shepherds are prized over desi mutts, as if a pedigree certificate makes them holier. It’s the same logic: purity equals value.

The Cost of Purity

This isn’t just quirky cultural trivia—it’s a mindset with consequences. The pursuit of purity fuels exclusion. Vegetarians shun meat-eaters at dining tables. Fair-skinned actors dominate Bollywood while darker-skinned talent is sidelined. Caste-based ghettos persist in villages and cities alike, with "pure" communities gatekeeping resources. It’s a system that equates difference with contamination, and it’s exhausting.

It’s also hypocritical. India prides itself on diversity—thousands of languages, cuisines, traditions—but this purity obsession flattens that richness into a narrow ideal. A Dalit friend once told me how her vegetarianism was mocked as "fake" by upper-caste classmates because her family historically ate meat out of necessity. Her food wasn’t impure; her caste was. Meanwhile, the same society that worships purity turns a blind eye to polluted rivers, adulterated milk, and corrupt leaders. Purity, it seems, is selective.

Breaking the Cycle

So how do we unravel this? It starts with recognizing that purity isn’t an innocent preference—it’s a power play, rooted in a history of domination. We can’t erase Hinduism’s influence or the caste system overnight, but we can question the reflexes it’s left us with. Why does "pure veg" feel superior? Why is fair skin a flex? Why do we care about a dog’s pedigree more than its loyalty?

It’s not about guilt-tripping anyone—culture evolves, and people inherit baggage they didn’t pack. But it’s about honesty. India’s purity obsession isn’t quaint; it’s a thread that ties racism, casteism, and classism together. Untangling it won’t be pure or simple, but it’s a mess worth making.