Inside the mind of the RSS sevak: A rare glimpse into Sangh's inner world

Swayamsevak

by Malini Bhattacharjee

Published by Penguin

324 pages ₹599

 

This book on the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) is not an academic work — it cannot be, with a mere 14-book bibliography and desultory footnoting. So, if you’re looking for rigour or a critical review of an organisation that has become one of the most powerful influences on Indian society and mind-space in recent times, you won’t find it here. The greatest merit of the book lies in its artlessness. It is based on conversations with nine swayamsevaks — members of the organisation who have dedicated their lives to furthering the RSS cause — and traces their growth and work in the RSS. The author holds you by the hand and takes you on an insider’s tour of the organisation, as seen by its members. It is largely sympathetic and sometimes breathlessly appreciative of the “selfless work” volunteers do when they join the Sangh.

 

The book explains that swayamsevaks are not born, they are made. Central to a swayamsevak’s life is “seva” (service), a crucial pillar of the Hindu nationalist movement. The author says it was hard to get an organisation as tight-knit as the RSS to open up and talk, especially as it rejects “vyaktivaad” (individualism). The swayamsevaks she has spoken to are leaders in varied areas — the tale of a doctor (Manohar Shinde) who was a diaspora swayamsevak; Shantaram Siddi, who “strayed” into the RSS and stayed there to work among tribal communities; Joydev Singha Roy, otherwise, Joydev Dada, who worked in terrorism-hit areas including Jammu & Kashmir and Punjab; Ashok Bhagat, whose work in the Akhi Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad gradually expanded to tribals in Jharkhand; Pankajavalli, who works with girls and women in Jammu, a swayamsevika from the women’s wing of an organisation that is male-dominated, and many others. 

The book describes the dilemmas, struggles, and vulnerabilities of swayamsevaks, who only occasionally admit to self-doubt — like Ashok Bhagat, who says, “when you work for samaj, there is little time left for your family. Sometimes, I wish I had given them more of my time”. But the overall picture that emerges  is of disciplined, steely soldiers who are implacable and unshakeable in their core beliefs. This is evident in Pankajavalli’s remarks on the RSS’s relationship with Muslims in Jammu & Kashmir: “We do not interact with Muslims here... we only exchange formal greetings”. To the author’s intervention: “Surely there are good people too”, she concedes, “yes, there are... They think we are here with a different agenda. So they prefer to keep their distance, and frankly, so do we.” 

Joydev Dada displays more granularity. “Ekal Vidyalayas [single-teacher schools started with support from the RSS] in Jammu & Kashmir teach children the ayats of the Quran along with Hindi. All the teachers are Muslim. They sing “Madr-e-watan-tujhe Salam” at the schools,” he tells the author. But he is clear: In Punjab, there are no “militants” only “terrorists” because “militants fight for a cause. Those who kill innocent people targeting civilians are not militants. They are terrorists”. 

Many strands of life as a swayamsevak come out of the accounts. What they have in common is a commitment to “Bharat”. There is angst, not expressed clearly, about the emasculation of Hindus and Hindi. But who is a real Bharatiya? Eating non-vegetarian food, even beef, does not debar you from being one. And if you are a Bharatiya Christian whose aim is to convert more people (especially tribals) to Christianity, you’re not considered Bharatiya. 

The conversations are not unstructured or linear. And the author confesses honestly that she struggled with her own beliefs of secularism and patriotism while writing. But the most problematic issue in the RSS is its relationship with the state — not just as it is, but as it ought to be, the Hindu Rashtra. The conversations do not address this. Once the Hindu Rashtra is established, what is the role the RSS will play? That’s a gap in the book. 

Julia Eckert’s outstanding study on the Shiv Sena explores how the organisation grew via arbitrage in areas that the state could not/did not reach. The services the state vacated, the Shiv Sainiks occupied. The Sena movement needed to create opportunities for action. It created the role of militant enemy images, and integrated diverse interests and motivations in the politics of struggle. But when there was no opportunity for political arbitrage, its cadres drifted away, and the organisation split. What happens when there is no Other? 

Maybe these questions will be answered in another book. Meanwhile, this volume is essential reading for those who seek to understand Hindu nationalism, the Sangh, and the direction Indian society and politics could take in the coming years.