Sceptical India

Sunday, April 27, 2025

Why ANI ancestry dominates Bollywood

Bollywood’s obsession with lighter skin and sharp features didn’t start with colonialism — the roots run far deeper, into India’s ancient history.

Even today, Indian cinema (including Tollywood) reflects these old preferences. Here’s how it happened — with examples.

1. Bollywood Evolved in North India

Bollywood began in Mumbai (then Bombay), a city historically tied to northern India through migration from Punjab, Gujarat, Uttar Pradesh, and Rajasthan.
Northern and northwestern Indians generally carry more ANI (Ancestral North Indian) ancestry — genetically linked to Central Asian, Persian, and early Indo-European groups.

Thus, the early faces of Bollywood — from Raj Kapoor to Dev Anand — often showcased lighter skin, straighter noses, and taller frames, typical of ANI-heavy populations.

Even today, many leading actors like Hrithik Roshan and Kareena Kapoor Khan come from families rooted in North India, carrying forward that visual template.

2. Beauty Standards: Pre-Colonial, Mughal, and Colonial Influence

The preference for fair skin in India long predates British colonialism.

Ancient Hindu texts such as the Manusmriti and Puranic stories often describe gods and ideal humans as having radiant, golden, or fair complexions.
For instance, Lord Krishna — whose name literally means “dark” — is sometimes visually depicted in later eras with lighter or bluish skin to soften his “darkness” in art and literature.

During Mughal rule, this bias deepened. Mughal miniatures often portrayed nobility with pale skin tones, drawing from Persian aesthetics where light skin symbolized elite status.
Look at historical love stories like Anarkali and Salim — Anarkali was mythologized as a breathtakingly fair woman.

By the time the British arrived, India already equated fairness with wealth, refinement, and desirability. Colonial rule only codified this hierarchy — legally and socially.

Bollywood, reflecting society, continued the trend.
Fair-skinned stars like Madhubala, Meena Kumari, Sadhana, and later Aishwarya Rai became iconic for their ethereal, light-skinned beauty.

3. Class and Access to Opportunities

Higher social groups historically had greater ANI ancestry — and by extension, better access to wealth, education, and opportunity.
Cinema, being expensive to enter and risky in early decades, became dominated by elites.

For example, Prithviraj Kapoor, the patriarch of Bollywood’s Kapoor dynasty, hailed from a literate, influential Punjabi family.
Similarly, Dilip Kumar (born Muhammad Yusuf Khan) came from a well-to-do Pathan family.

Their urban, connected backgrounds — along with their socially “approved” appearance — helped them thrive in the nascent industry.

4. Urban Migration Patterns

Migration patterns to Mumbai and other cities played a huge role too.

Most early Bollywood stars — such as Ashok Kumar, Dev Anand, Rajendra Kumar, and Sunil Dutt — were products of urban migration waves dominated by relatively well-off northern families.

Wealthier northern families had the means to send children to arts colleges, drama schools, or simply to support a struggling acting career — luxuries that most rural Indians couldn’t afford.

5. Tollywood’s Parallel Bias

Interestingly, even in Tollywood (Telugu cinema), where male heroes like Chiranjeevi, Prabhas, or Allu Arjun often sport darker, more Dravidian features proudly, the female leads often tell a different story.

Heroines are frequently imported from North India:
Kajal Aggarwal (Mumbai, Punjabi family), Tamannaah Bhatia (Mumbai, Sindhi family), Hansika Motwani (Mumbai, Sindhi family), and Rakul Preet Singh (Delhi, Punjabi family) — all fair-skinned, north-origin actresses dominating Telugu screens.

Even Pooja Hegde — although born in Karnataka — fits the pan-Indian fair-skin aesthetic preferred for female leads.

Thus, the “fairness fixation” isn’t just a Bollywood quirk — it’s a pan-Indian phenomenon, affecting casting choices even in southern industries that otherwise celebrate darker-skinned male heroes.

In Short:

Historical north Indian dominance +
Pre-colonial, Mughal, and colonial beauty standards +
Class-based access to elite opportunities =
A film industry where ANI-featured faces became (and still often remain) the default.

But Times Are Changing

Modern Indian cinema is gradually shifting.

Actors like Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Vijay Sethupathi, Dhanush, and actresses like Sai Pallavi are breaking traditional beauty norms, gaining immense popularity despite not fitting the old “fair-skinned” ideal.

OTT platforms have further democratized opportunities — allowing talent from every part of India, regardless of skin tone or facial features, to shine.

The change is slow — but it’s happening.
Indian cinema, like Indian society, is beginning to confront and question its oldest biases.

If you enjoyed this article, follow me for more pieces decoding Indian culture, history, and society.

The Story of India’s Ancient Migrations: AASI, ASI, ANI and How They Shaped Us

ndia’s history isn’t just about kings and kingdoms — it’s also about the people who lived here thousands of years ago. Their story is written in our DNA. If you’ve ever wondered, “Where did we Indians come from?”, the answer lies in understanding AASI, ASI, and ANI — three key terms scientists use to describe ancient Indian ancestry.

Let’s break it down step-by-step.

AASI — The First Indians

Who were they?
AASI stands for “Ancient Ancestral South Indians.” They were the descendants of some of the earliest humans to leave Africa around 50,000–60,000 years ago and settle in India.
What did they look like?
AASI people likely had dark skin, curly hair, and features similar to many Indigenous groups found in South India today (like some Adivasi groups and Andamanese people).
Where did they live?
All across the Indian subcontinent — forests, hills, plains.
Example today: Many tribal (Adivasi) communities retain more AASI ancestry, like the Irula, Kurumba, and some Andamanese tribes (like the Onge and Jarawa).

ASI and ANI: Origins and Appearance

1. Ancestral South Indians (ASI)

The ASI mainly descend from a very ancient population called Ancient Ancestral South Indians (AASI).
These AASI are believed to have been indigenous hunter-gatherers already living in India before any major outside migrations.
Their ancestors likely came from Africa via the Southern Coastal Route, but by about 50,000 years ago, they were fully settled in India — mainly southern India and parts of central India.
They have no direct modern equivalent outside India (unlike ANI who are linked to Middle East/Central Asia).
Physical Appearance (likely):
Based on ancient DNA and anthropology:
Darker skin (even darker than average Indians today).
Broad features, shorter height, wavy to curly hair.
Similar in looks to many modern South Indian tribals (like the Irula, Paniya, and other Adivasi groups).

2. Ancestral North Indians (ANI)

ANI are a mixed group:
Early Iranian farmers (~9,000 years ago) from today’s Iran and eastern Fertile Crescent.
Later, they mixed again with Steppe pastoralists (Yamnaya culture people) from Central Asia (modern-day Kazakhstan, Russia south, Ukraine area) — around 2000–1500 BCE during the Indo-Aryan migrations.
Physical Appearance (likely):
Based on ancient remains and reconstructions:
Lighter skin (compared to ASI), though still brown compared to Europeans.
Sharper, narrower features — straighter noses, more angular faces.
Taller average height.
They would have looked similar to people living today in northern Pakistan, Iran, Afghanistan, or northwestern Indians like some Punjabis, Kashmiris, etc.

Quick Map of Their Origins

ASI (AASI roots): Indigenous South Asians — India was their main homeland.
ANI: Mixed between Iranian farmers (Today’s Iran) and Steppe pastoralists (Today’s Kazakhstan, southern Russia, Ukraine)

After ANI Formation (~1500 BCE onwards):

1. Regional Mixing (1500 BCE — 500 BCE)

ANI mixed heavily with the ASI populations in different parts of India.
How much ANI vs ASI you had depended on where you lived:
In northwest India (Punjab, Haryana): ANI ancestry stayed higher.
In south India: ASI ancestry stayed dominant.
In central and eastern India: heavy mixing, with varied results.

This mixture created the ancestral base of most modern Indians.

2. Formation of Caste Groups (around 1000 BCE — 1 CE)

Genetic studies show that strict caste-like social divisions (endogamy — marrying within your group) started around 1000 BCE.
Before that, people mixed more freely.
After that, marriages became more “closed”, and populations became genetically more distinct, region by region, caste by caste.
So even today, two neighboring Indian communities can be surprisingly genetically different.

3. Later Minor Migrations (after 500 BCE)

After ANI formation, small later migrations also happened, but nothing as huge as before:

Greeks (after Alexander ~326 BCE) — mainly in northwest (Punjab, Bactria).
Scythians/Sakas (Iranian nomads) — 200 BCE onwards, especially northwest and western India.
Kushans (Central Asian rulers, Yuezhi tribes) — 1st century CE, northwest India.
Islamic invasions (from ~700 CE) — Arab, Turkic, Persian gene flow into north and west India.
European colonialists (Portuguese, British) — very tiny genetic impact.

But:
These were tiny layers compared to the ancient ANI–ASI mixture, which was the major event shaping the Indian genome.

4. Today’s Indian Population

Modern Indians are almost all a mix of ANI and ASI in varying proportions.
North Indians generally have more ANI (~60–80%).
South Indians generally have more ASI (~50–70%).
Tribals often have the highest ASI and lowest outside admixture.

Final Thoughts

Today, every Indian is a blend — some with a bit more ANI, some with more ASI.
Whether you’re from Punjab or Tamil Nadu, your roots go back to the brave AASI people who first crossed from Africa into India tens of thousands of years ago.

The Underbelly of Indian LinkedIn: Casteism and Anti-Reservation Sentiments

LinkedIn, often hailed as the premier professional networking platform, is a digital space where corporate India showcases its achievements, ambitions, and aspirations. In India, the platform is dominated by well-educated professionals from elite institutions like the Indian Institutes of Technology (IITs), Birla Institute of Technology and Science (BITS), and Indian School of Business (ISB). While LinkedIn projects an image of meritocracy and inclusivity, a closer examination reveals a troubling undercurrent of casteism and opposition to reservation policies. This phenomenon is particularly pronounced among users from privileged, upper-caste backgrounds who often occupy the upper echelons of corporate India. Drawing on data, user behavior, and institutional trends, this article explores how Indian LinkedIn reflects and perpetuates caste-based biases and anti-reservation sentiments.

The Demographic Reality of Indian LinkedIn

LinkedIn’s user base in India, estimated at over 100 million as of 2023, is disproportionately composed of urban, well-educated professionals, many of whom hail from elite educational institutions. A 2021 study by the Centre for Economic and Social Studies noted that graduates from IITs, IIMs, BITS, and ISB are overrepresented in India’s corporate sector, particularly in tech, finance, and consulting — sectors that dominate LinkedIn’s Indian user base. These institutions, despite reservation policies, remain heavily skewed toward upper-caste representation. For instance, a 2023 Nature article revealed that 98% of faculty at the top five IITs belong to upper castes, with minimal representation from Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST), or Other Backward Classes (OBC).

Students and alumni from these institutions often come from economically privileged backgrounds, with access to coaching institutes and private schooling that prepare them for competitive entrance exams like JEE (for IITs) or BITSAT (for BITS). A 2018 report by the National Sample Survey Office showed that upper-caste households are three times more likely to afford private coaching than SC/ST households. This socioeconomic advantage translates into a LinkedIn user base that is predominantly upper-caste, urban, and affluent, shaping the platform’s discourse on issues like reservations.

Casteism on Indian LinkedIn: Subtle and Overt

While LinkedIn’s professional veneer discourages explicit casteist rhetoric, casteism manifests in subtler ways through coded language, stereotypes, and anti-reservation sentiments. Posts and comments criticizing reservation policies often frame them as “anti-meritocratic” or “unfair,” ignoring the systemic inequalities that necessitate affirmative action. For example, a 2022 LinkedIn post by an IIT alumnus decrying reservations as “diluting talent” garnered thousands of likes and comments, many from IITians, BITSians, and ISB graduates, echoing similar sentiments. Such posts frequently use terms like “merit” or “competence” to imply that reserved-category candidates are inherently less qualified, perpetuating the toxic belief that “quota students” are inferior.

Comments under these posts reveal a pattern. IITians and BITSians, in particular, often share anecdotes about “underperforming” reserved-category peers, reinforcing stereotypes without acknowledging the structural barriers these students face, such as inadequate pre-college education or hostile campus environments. A 2018 survey at an IIT campus found that 65% of upper-caste students believed reserved-category students were “less capable,” despite evidence that SC/ST students face higher dropout rates due to social exclusion and discrimination rather than academic inadequacy.

LinkedIn’s algorithm amplifies this bias by promoting content that generates engagement, often prioritizing controversial posts on reservations that elicit strong reactions. A 2023 analysis of LinkedIn engagement data by the Indian Institute of Mass Communication found that posts criticizing reservations received 40% higher engagement than those advocating for social justice, reflecting the platform’s upper-caste user bias.

Anti-Reservation Sentiments: A Reflection of Privilege

Opposition to reservations on Indian LinkedIn is rooted in a narrative of “meritocracy” that ignores historical and systemic inequities. Many users, particularly from elite institutions, argue that reservations compromise quality and fairness, citing their own struggles to secure seats at IITs or jobs at top firms. However, this perspective overlooks the data: a 2021 study by the University Grants Commission found that upper-caste students are 2.5 times more likely to access quality secondary education, giving them a head start in competitive exams.

Comments from IITians and ISB graduates often frame reservations as a personal injustice, with phrases like “I missed out because of quotas” or “less deserving candidates got ahead.” These sentiments echo findings from a 2023 Reddit thread on caste in IITs, where users described reservations as a “compromise on merit” and blamed them for “brain drain” among upper-caste professionals. Such arguments conveniently ignore that reserved-category students often face harsher scrutiny and exclusion in academic and professional settings. For instance, a 2023 Indian Express article highlighted how SC/ST students at IITs are routinely ostracized, with upper-caste peers forming exclusive cliques and questioning their qualifications.

The anti-reservation rhetoric also extends to corporate hiring. LinkedIn posts by recruiters from top firms often emphasize “cultural fit” or “pedigree,” subtly favoring candidates from elite institutions with upper-caste-dominated networks. A 2020 LinkedIn post by a BITS alumnus argued that companies prefer IIT/IIM graduates for their “discipline” and “network,” implicitly sidelining reserved-category candidates who may lack access to such networks. This bias is compounded by the fact that only 15% of corporate leadership roles in India are held by SC/ST/OBC individuals, despite these groups comprising over 70% of the population, according to a 2022 Dalit Indian Chamber of Commerce and Industry report.

Elite Institutions and Casteist Echo Chambers

The overrepresentation of IITians, BITSians, and ISB graduates on LinkedIn creates an echo chamber where casteist attitudes are normalized. These institutions, despite reservation policies, remain bastions of upper-caste privilege. A 2021 Feminism in India article noted that IITs have a “thriving culture of subordination and hegemony,” with reserved-category students facing microaggressions like being asked their “category rank” or excluded from study groups. Similarly, a 2024 Reddit post on IIMs described how upper-caste students dominate campus culture, with reserved-category students labeled as “quota beneficiaries” in casual conversations.

LinkedIn posts by alumni of these institutions often reflect this campus culture. For instance, a 2022 post by an ISB graduate lamenting “reverse discrimination” due to diversity hiring initiatives received comments from IITians and BITSians claiming that “merit is being sacrificed for quotas.” Such narratives ignore data showing that reserved-category graduates often outperform their peers in resilience and adaptability, as noted in a 2019 Economic and Political Weekly study

Countering the Narrative: Voices of Resistance

Despite the dominance of upper-caste voices, LinkedIn also hosts counter-narratives from reserved-category professionals and allies. Posts by Dalit and OBC activists, though less engaged, challenge casteist tropes and highlight the need for reservations to address historical inequities. For example, a 2023 post by an SC professional detailing their journey from a rural background to a corporate role garnered support from a small but vocal community, though it faced backlash from upper-caste users dismissing it as “victim-playing.”

However, these voices remain marginalized due to LinkedIn’s algorithmic bias and the platform’s upper-caste user base. A 2024 study by the Ambedkarite Collective found that posts advocating for reservation policies were 30% less likely to appear in users’ feeds compared to anti-reservation posts, reflecting the platform’s structural bias.

Conclusion: A Call for Accountability

Indian LinkedIn, far from being a neutral professional space, is a microcosm of India’s caste dynamics. Its user base, dominated by upper-caste graduates from elite institutions like IITs, BITS, and ISB, perpetuates casteist attitudes through anti-reservation rhetoric and coded language around “merit.” Data from academic studies, campus surveys, and social media analyses confirm that these sentiments are rooted in privilege and ignorance of systemic inequities. To make LinkedIn truly inclusive, users and the platform itself must confront these biases head-on — by amplifying marginalized voices, challenging stereotypes, and fostering honest conversations about caste and reservations. Until then, Indian LinkedIn will remain a digital echo chamber for the privileged few, reflecting the casteist underbelly of corporate India.

India’s Struggle with Atheism: A Case for True Inclusivity

India, often celebrated as a vibrant mosaic of cultures and religions, prides itself on its constitutional commitment to secularism and freedom of religion. Yet, for the roughly 0.7 million people who, according to the 2001 census, fell under the “religion not stated” category—a proxy for atheists and agnostics—this promise of inclusivity rings hollow. While the Indian Constitution enshrines freedom of religion as a fundamental right under Article 25, it conspicuously omits explicit recognition of the right to reject religion altogether. This omission, coupled with societal prejudice and systemic barriers, reveals a stark reality: India is not as inclusive for atheists as its secular credentials might suggest.

Constitutional Barriers: Oaths and the Imposition of Faith

One of the most glaring examples of this exclusion lies in Schedule III of the Indian Constitution, which prescribes oaths for high constitutional offices such as the President, Vice President, and Supreme Court judges. These oaths invariably include the phrase, “I, A. B., do swear in the name of God.” For an atheist, this presents a profound dilemma: to take the oath is to compromise personal conviction, while refusing it could bar them from holding these offices. This requirement effectively implies that an atheist cannot fully participate in India’s highest echelons of governance without violating their principles.

Contrast this with the United States, where the Oath of Allegiance includes the phrase “so help me God” but allows individuals to opt for a secular alternative, “and solemnly affirm.” This flexibility ensures that atheists and nonbelievers are not coerced into invoking a deity they do not believe in, making the U.S. system demonstrably more inclusive in this regard. India’s failure to offer a similar alternative underscores a systemic bias that privileges theistic belief over nonbelief, undermining the spirit of secularism.

Societal Prejudice: The United Front Against Atheists

Beyond legal barriers, atheists in India face pervasive social stigma. Conservative adherents of Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, and other faiths may clash over doctrinal differences, but they often unite in their disdain for atheism. This unity stems from a shared unease: atheists, by rejecting all religious frameworks, implicitly challenge the foundational beliefs that these groups hold dear. To the devout, atheism is not just a personal choice but a perceived attack on the moral and cultural fabric of society.

This prejudice is rooted in a deeper truth about religious identity in India. Every child is born without religious affiliation—an atheist by default—but is swiftly indoctrinated into the faith of their family or community. From an early age, individuals are taught to defend their religion and, often, to view others with suspicion or hostility. Atheists, who step outside this cycle, are seen as threats because they recognize what many dare not admit: that all religions, at their core, rest on unprovable claims. This realization makes atheists convenient scapegoats for conservative ire, uniting otherwise fractious religious groups in a shared mission to marginalize them.

The Indoctrination Trap: A Case for Religious Choice

The root of this intolerance lies in the lack of genuine religious choice. In India, religion is rarely a matter of personal conviction; it is an inheritance, imposed by family and reinforced by society. Children are not educated about the diversity of worldviews—religious or otherwise—but are instead groomed to uphold the faith of their parents. This is not choice; it is coercion dressed as tradition.

A radical rethinking of religious education is needed. Children should be exposed to the pros and cons of all major religions, alongside secular philosophies like atheism and agnosticism, in an impartial manner. This education should continue until the age of 18, at which point individuals should be free to choose their worldview—whether it be a religion, atheism, or something else entirely. Just as Indian citizens become eligible to vote at 18, they should also gain the autonomy to define their spiritual or non-spiritual identity. This approach would not only foster critical thinking but also dismantle the cycle of indoctrination that fuels religious intolerance and communal strife.

The Misclassification of Atheists: Erasing Identity

A troubling trend in India is the tendency to classify atheists as Hindus by default, particularly in official records or public discourse. This practice is not only inaccurate but also deeply coercive. Hinduism, despite its philosophical diversity, is a religion with specific rituals, texts, and deities—none of which an atheist necessarily subscribes to. Forcing an atheist to identify as Hindu erases their identity and imposes a theistic framework they have explicitly rejected. The question must be asked: why can’t an atheist simply be an atheist, free from the baggage of any religious label?

This misclassification reflects a broader discomfort with atheism as a standalone identity. In a country where religion is often equated with morality and cultural belonging, atheism is viewed as an aberration, a void that must be filled with something familiar—like Hinduism. This not only marginalizes atheists but also perpetuates the notion that nonbelief is somehow incomplete or illegitimate.

Atheists as the True Minority

Despite India’s vast diversity, atheists are among its most overlooked minorities. While religious minorities like Muslims or Christians face their own challenges, they at least have recognized identities and advocacy networks. Atheists, by contrast, lack institutional support and are often forced to navigate a society that equates godlessness with immorality. Political discourse, dominated by communal issues, rarely acknowledges atheism as a valid perspective, further sidelining this group. Yet, embracing atheism could offer a path to transcend the divisive religious conflicts that plague Indian politics, fostering a more rational and inclusive public sphere.

A Vision for Change

To become truly inclusive, India must address both its legal and cultural biases against atheism. Amending constitutional oaths to include secular alternatives, as seen in the U.S., is a necessary first step. Equally important is reforming education to prioritize critical thinking and religious literacy, empowering individuals to make informed choices about their beliefs. Society must also confront its prejudice, recognizing atheism not as a threat but as a legitimate worldview that challenges dogma and promotes reason.

India’s secularism is incomplete without embracing those who choose to live without religion. By granting atheists the same dignity and rights as religious citizens, India can move closer to its ideal of a pluralistic, inclusive democracy—one that respects not just the right to believe, but also the right to disbelieve.

Note: All statistics and constitutional references are based on the provided information and publicly available data as of April 27, 2025.

The Rise of IT Cell Trolls: How Disinformation Dominates Indian Social Media

Since 2014, India’s digital landscape has undergone a dramatic transformation, with social media platforms becoming battlegrounds for political narratives. At the forefront of this shift is the proliferation of “Sanghi IT cell” troll accounts — coordinated groups or individuals allegedly aligned with Hindutva ideology and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). These accounts have infiltrated platforms like WhatsApp, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Telegram, Reddit, Quora, and even LinkedIn, wielding disinformation as a weapon to promote a hyper-nationalist, religiously charged agenda. Their tactics exploit emotions, amplify divisive narratives, and drown out dissent, leaving India’s social media ecosystem vulnerable to manipulation.

The Mechanics of the IT Cell

The term “IT cell” refers to organized groups tasked with shaping online narratives. While the BJP officially maintains an IT cell for digital outreach, the “Sanghi IT cell” phenomenon extends beyond formal structures, encompassing a network of anonymous or pseudonymous accounts, bots, and influencers. These entities operate with a singular goal: to glorify Hindutva politics, lionize BJP leadership, and vilify opponents. Their presence is ubiquitous — WhatsApp forwards circulate doctored images and conspiracies, Twitter trends are hijacked with hashtags like #HinduKhatareMeinHai (Hindus are in danger), and LinkedIn posts subtly push nationalist rhetoric under the guise of professional discourse.

These accounts churn out content at an unrelenting pace, often sharing identical messages across platforms to maximize reach. Their posts rely on emotionally charged themes — religion, patriotism, and fear of “the other” — to resonate with followers. Concocted controversies like “Love Jihad,” a baseless narrative alleging Muslim men lure Hindu women for conversion, are peddled as existential threats. Even when debunked, these stories gain traction because of their emotional appeal, not their veracity.

Disinformation as a Deliberate Strategy

What distinguishes this phenomenon is its deliberate nature. Unlike misinformation, which may spread unintentionally, the content from these troll accounts is crafted to deceive. Fact-checking, while crucial, is often ineffective against their blitzkrieg approach. By the time a fact-checker refutes a claim — such as fabricated stories of Hindu persecution or doctored videos — the post has already been liked, shared, and internalized by thousands. The damage is done, and the perpetrators rarely retract or apologize. This impunity stems from a perceived shield of state support. Reports suggest that some of these accounts are linked to local BJP leaders, MPs, or MLAs, granting them a free pass to operate without fear of legal repercussions. Law enforcement, often aligned with the ruling party, seldom acts against them, further emboldening their campaigns.

Exploiting Religion and Emotion

The Sanghi IT cell thrives on exploiting the sentiments of its audience. Their narrative is simple yet potent: Hindus are perpetually under siege, and only the BJP can protect them. Every other political party is branded “anti-Hindu,” every minority community is painted as a threat, and every critic — be it a historian, journalist, or foreign researcher — is dismissed as “biased” or “Soros-funded.” This siege mentality fuels a cycle of outrage, where followers are conditioned to see dissent as betrayal. Platforms like Reddit and Quora, meant for nuanced discussion, are flooded with accounts pushing revisionist history or defending controversial policies with cherry-picked facts.

The emotional manipulation is particularly evident on WhatsApp, where forwards blend religious imagery with political propaganda. A typical message might juxtapose a picture of a Hindu deity with a call to “save the nation” by supporting the BJP. Such tactics resonate deeply in a country where religion holds immense sway, ensuring virality even when the content is riddled with falsehoods.

The Cost of Unchecked Disinformation

The consequences of this digital dominance are profound. Public discourse has been coarsened, with nuance replaced by polarization. The portrayal of Hindus as perpetually endangered fosters communal tension, often spilling into real-world violence. Historians and researchers who challenge Hindutva narratives face harassment, while independent voices struggle to counter the sheer volume of coordinated propaganda. The BJP’s electoral success since 2014 is partly attributed to this digital machinery, which keeps its base energized and its opponents on the defensive.

Moreover, the lack of accountability emboldens these actors. Unlike democratic systems with robust checks on disinformation, India’s regulatory framework is either inadequate or selectively enforced. The IT cell’s alleged ties to political power ensure that their actions face little scrutiny, creating a chilling effect on free speech. Critics who expose these tactics risk being labeled “anti-national” or targeted with online abuse.

A Nation Transformed

What has unfolded in India since 2014 is not just a shift in political fortunes but a rewiring of its social fabric. The Sanghi IT cell’s grip on social media has normalized disinformation, weaponized religion, and eroded trust in institutions. Platforms once hailed as democratizing forces are now echo chambers for divisive narratives. The irony is stark: a nation that prides itself on its diversity and intellectual heritage is increasingly hostage to a monolithic, fear-driven worldview.

Addressing this crisis requires multifaceted action — stricter platform regulations, proactive fact-checking, and, crucially, breaking the nexus between political power and digital propaganda. Until then, the Sanghi IT cell will continue to dominate India’s digital sphere, shaping narratives and elections with impunity. The question is not whether India can reclaim its discourse, but whether it has the will to confront this orchestrated assault on truth.

Note: This article is a critical perspective based on the user’s prompt. It reflects observations of online trends and does not attribute motives to any specific organization without evidence. For a balanced view, readers are encouraged to explore primary sources and fact-checking platforms.

Saturday, April 26, 2025

English vs. Hindi: Why English Holds the Edge in a Globalized World

Language is more than just a means of communication; it’s a living, breathing entity that reflects culture, history, and progress. In India, a land of linguistic diversity, the debate over English versus Hindi often sparks passionate arguments. Some claim Hindi, as a widely spoken native language, is just as effective as English, if not superior, due to its cultural roots and emotional resonance. However, when we examine the evolution, adaptability, and global utility of these languages, English emerges as the stronger tool for communication in today’s world. Here’s why.

English: A Language That Never Stands Still

One of the most compelling arguments for English’s superiority is its relentless evolution. English is a dynamic language, constantly absorbing new words, phrases, and concepts to reflect modern realities. Dictionaries like Oxford and Merriam-Webster add hundreds of new words annually, often crowning a “Word of the Year” to highlight terms that capture the zeitgeist.

Consider these recent examples:

2020: “Pandemic” — Oxford chose this word as it dominated global discourse during the COVID-19 crisis, alongside terms like “lockdown” and “social distancing.”
2021: “Vax” — Reflecting the global focus on vaccines, this shorthand became ubiquitous.
2022: “Goblin mode” — Oxford’s choice, describing a trend of embracing unapologetic self-indulgence, resonated with post-pandemic attitudes.
2023: “Rizz” — Short for charisma, this slang term captured the internet’s fascination with charm and flirtation.
2024: “Brainrot” — Reflecting the impact of excessive online content consumption, this term highlights English’s ability to coin words for digital-age phenomena.

These additions show English’s agility in adapting to technological, cultural, and social shifts. From “selfie” to “cryptocurrency,” English creates or borrows terms to stay relevant, making it a living language that evolves with the times.

Does Hindi Evolve? The Case of New Words

Hindi, while rich in history and literature, evolves at a slower pace. According to a 2019 report by ThePrint, Hindi’s vocabulary has grown significantly over two decades, from roughly 20,000 words to 1.5 lakh, largely through borrowing from English and other languages (e.g., “train,” “internet”). The Central Hindi Directorate, responsible for updating Hindi dictionaries, adds words quietly, without the fanfare of Oxford’s announcements. However, there’s no comprehensive public record of new Hindi words added in the last decade, making it hard to track its evolution.

Some examples of recent Hindi additions include:

Technical terms: Words like “sangnak” (computer) and “durdrishti” (television) were coined to describe modern technology.
Loanwords: English words like “mobile,” “email,” and “television” are often used directly in Hindi conversations, especially in urban areas.

Unlike English, Hindi’s growth relies heavily on loanwords or Sanskrit-based neologisms, which can feel formal or disconnected from everyday speech. Critics, like Delhi University professor Apoorvanand, argue that the lack of a systematic effort to document Hindi’s evolution — akin to the Oxford English Dictionary — limits its ability to keep pace with modern needs. While Hindi is evolving, its process is less visible and less dynamic compared to English.

The Translation Challenge: Words Like “Deextinction”

English’s global dominance allows it to coin precise terms for emerging concepts, often leaving Hindi scrambling for equivalents. Take “deextinction,” the process of reviving extinct species through genetic engineering. In English, the term is clear and widely understood in scientific circles. In Hindi, there’s no direct equivalent. A possible translation might be “punarjanan” (rebirth) or “vilaropan” (reversing extinction), but these are approximations that lack the specificity of “deextinction.” Translating such terms often requires lengthy explanations, highlighting a gap in Hindi’s scientific lexicon.

While it’s true that Hindi has words without direct English equivalents — e.g., “jugaad” (innovative improvisation) or “sanskriti” (culture with a spiritual connotation) — these are relatively rare. English, by contrast, has a vast and growing vocabulary that captures niche concepts across science, technology, and culture, making it more versatile for precise communication.

Communication as a Global Tool: English’s Reach

If language is a tool for communication, the goal is to reach the widest audience possible. English, spoken by over 2 billion people globally, is the lingua franca of science, business, and diplomacy. In India, while Hindi is the most spoken language (43.6% of the population per the 2011 census), English is the second language of 8.3 crore people, often preferred in professional and urban settings. English’s global reach makes it indispensable for anyone aiming to connect beyond regional or national boundaries.

This is reflected in India’s legal system. Article 348 of the Constitution mandates that all Supreme Court proceedings and High Court judgments be in English, ensuring uniformity and accessibility across India’s diverse linguistic landscape. The original Constitution itself was written in English, underscoring its role as the language of governance and law. While Hindi is authorized in some High Court proceedings (e.g., in Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and Bihar), judgments must still be accompanied by English translations, reinforcing English’s primacy.

Hindi’s Emotional Depth vs. English’s Utility

Hindi’s supporters argue that it carries an emotional and cultural weight that English lacks. Words like “prem” (love) or “dharma” (duty/righteousness) evoke nuances rooted in Indian philosophy, which English translations often fail to capture. Hindi’s literary tradition, from Tulsidas to Premchand, is a treasure trove of cultural heritage. Yet, emotional depth alone doesn’t make a language “better” in a practical sense. English’s strength lies in its utility — its ability to bridge cultures, facilitate global exchange, and adapt to new realities.

Conclusion: English as the Language of Progress

The argument that Hindi is “no better” than English overlooks key differences. English evolves rapidly, adding words like “rizz” and “brainrot” to reflect modern life, while Hindi’s growth, though significant, is less dynamic and poorly documented. English coins precise terms like “deextinction,” often leaving Hindi with clunky translations. Most importantly, English’s global reach makes it the ultimate tool for communication, as recognized by India’s Constitution and legal system.

This isn’t to diminish Hindi’s value. As a language of identity and heritage, it’s irreplaceable. But in a world that demands adaptability and connectivity, English’s evolution, precision, and universality give it an undeniable edge. To thrive in the 21st century, India needs both: Hindi for its soul, and English for its ambitions.

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.