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Gods, Guns and Missionaries: The Making of the Modern Hindu Identity
**A Financial Times Best Summer Book of 2025 **
'A brave and magnificent book, and a vital as elegant as it is witty, as erudite as it is wise, and as stylish as it is scholarly. Manu Pillai is fast becoming one of India's most accomplished and impressively wide-ranging historians' William Dalrymple
When European missionaries arrived in India in the sixteenth century, they entered a world both fascinating and bewildering. Hinduism, as they saw it, was a pagan a worship of devils and monsters by a people who burned women alive, performed outlandish rites and fed children to crocodiles. But it quickly became clear that Hindu ‘idolatry’ was far more layered and complex than European stereotypes allowed, surprisingly even sharing certain impulses with Christianity.
Nonetheless, missionaries became a threatening force as European power grew in India. Western ways of thinking gained further ascendancy during the British while interest in Hindu thought influenced Enlightenment thinkers like Voltaire in Europe, Orientalism and colonial rule pressed Hindus to reimagine their religion. In fact, in resisting foreign authority, they often adopted the missionaries’ own tools and strategies. It is this encounter, Manu S. Pillai argues, that has given Hinduism its present shape, also contributing to the birth of an aggressive Hindu nationalism.
Gods, Guns and Missionaries surveys these remarkable dynamics with an arresting cast of characters – maharajahs, poets, gun-wielding revolutionaries, politicians, polemicists, philosophers and clergymen. Lucid, ambitious, and provocative, it is at once a political history, an examination of the mutual impact of Hindu culture and Christianity upon each other, and a study of the forces that have prepared the ground for politics in India today. Turning away from simplistic ideas on religious evolution and European imperialism, the past as it appears here is more complicated – and infinitely richer – than previous narratives allow.
'A brave and magnificent book, and a vital as elegant as it is witty, as erudite as it is wise, and as stylish as it is scholarly. Manu Pillai is fast becoming one of India's most accomplished and impressively wide-ranging historians' William Dalrymple
When European missionaries arrived in India in the sixteenth century, they entered a world both fascinating and bewildering. Hinduism, as they saw it, was a pagan a worship of devils and monsters by a people who burned women alive, performed outlandish rites and fed children to crocodiles. But it quickly became clear that Hindu ‘idolatry’ was far more layered and complex than European stereotypes allowed, surprisingly even sharing certain impulses with Christianity.
Nonetheless, missionaries became a threatening force as European power grew in India. Western ways of thinking gained further ascendancy during the British while interest in Hindu thought influenced Enlightenment thinkers like Voltaire in Europe, Orientalism and colonial rule pressed Hindus to reimagine their religion. In fact, in resisting foreign authority, they often adopted the missionaries’ own tools and strategies. It is this encounter, Manu S. Pillai argues, that has given Hinduism its present shape, also contributing to the birth of an aggressive Hindu nationalism.
Gods, Guns and Missionaries surveys these remarkable dynamics with an arresting cast of characters – maharajahs, poets, gun-wielding revolutionaries, politicians, polemicists, philosophers and clergymen. Lucid, ambitious, and provocative, it is at once a political history, an examination of the mutual impact of Hindu culture and Christianity upon each other, and a study of the forces that have prepared the ground for politics in India today. Turning away from simplistic ideas on religious evolution and European imperialism, the past as it appears here is more complicated – and infinitely richer – than previous narratives allow.
859 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 21, 2024
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About the author
Manu S. Pillai
10 books775 followersManu S. Pillai was born in Kerala in 1990 and educated at Fergusson College, Pune, and at King's College London. Following the completion of his master's degree, where he presented his thesis on the emergence of religious nationalism in nineteenth-century India, in 2011-12, he managed the parliamentary office of Dr Shashi Tharoor in New Delhi and was then aide to Lord Bilimoria CBE DL, a crossbencher at the House of Lords in London in 2012-13. That same year he was commissioned by the BBC as a researcher to work with Prof. Sunil Khilnani on the 'Incarnations' history series, which tells the story of India through fifty great lives. The Ivory Throne is Manu's first book.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 67 reviews
January 1, 2025
The book deals with how foreigner interactions, Mughal and mainly European caused the formation of modern Hindu identity as well as the politics around it.
The introductory chapter deals with the evolution of Hindu religion over the years till the missionary arrival. Vedic non vedic interaction, the Puranas, Bhakti tradition are all briefly explained.
This is followed by the arrival of Portugese missionaries. Inspired by a self righteousness over the religion and the churn due to Protestant movement back home, these missionaries engaged in violent coercion and viewed every element of native culture as some form of evil. This is contrasted with the British, whose initial and primary instinct was to protect their trade over everything else with less intervention in religious matters. However, the popularity of salacious missionary accounts with the advent of printing press caused such domestic pressures that the British had to give into the pressure and promote Evangelical missionaries.
The constant interaction with the missionaries and their polemic caused an introspection within the Hindu community and in an act of resistance, produced a variety of tall leaders that provided internal reform that conforms to the ‘modern’ ideals of the time. The works of Ram Mohan Roy, Dayanand Saraswati, Jyotirao Phule, BG Tilak, and VD Savarkar are elaborated.
There are two minor issues with the book. The introductory chapter tries to pack in a lot of details and it ends up being all over the place. Another issue is regarding Caste. If foreign interaction caused an introspection on the religious practices, surely it must’ve caused a similar churn regarding caste practices. But there is minimal discussion of the same in this book.
The book is informative in how the Indians, mainly Hindus responded to the cultural as well as political pressures of the Europeans. Would recommend.
The introductory chapter deals with the evolution of Hindu religion over the years till the missionary arrival. Vedic non vedic interaction, the Puranas, Bhakti tradition are all briefly explained.
This is followed by the arrival of Portugese missionaries. Inspired by a self righteousness over the religion and the churn due to Protestant movement back home, these missionaries engaged in violent coercion and viewed every element of native culture as some form of evil. This is contrasted with the British, whose initial and primary instinct was to protect their trade over everything else with less intervention in religious matters. However, the popularity of salacious missionary accounts with the advent of printing press caused such domestic pressures that the British had to give into the pressure and promote Evangelical missionaries.
The constant interaction with the missionaries and their polemic caused an introspection within the Hindu community and in an act of resistance, produced a variety of tall leaders that provided internal reform that conforms to the ‘modern’ ideals of the time. The works of Ram Mohan Roy, Dayanand Saraswati, Jyotirao Phule, BG Tilak, and VD Savarkar are elaborated.
There are two minor issues with the book. The introductory chapter tries to pack in a lot of details and it ends up being all over the place. Another issue is regarding Caste. If foreign interaction caused an introspection on the religious practices, surely it must’ve caused a similar churn regarding caste practices. But there is minimal discussion of the same in this book.
The book is informative in how the Indians, mainly Hindus responded to the cultural as well as political pressures of the Europeans. Would recommend.
March 20, 2025
Manu Pillai's Gods, Guns and Missionaries is a logical thesis of the evolution of modern day Hinduism in all it's complexities. Nearly half the book is references - as if Mr.Pillai wanted nothing to seem like an opinion.
There is no easy way to say this, but if you are a 30-50 year Indian adult of any faith and not a jerk, you would probably have had to overcome so many biases that was fed to you as a kid. Travelling with this book over the last two months, I have had a chance to reflect on childhood memories growing up in an orthodox family. I still remember a Christian neighbour, to whose house I was prohibited to go since "They will convert" me and a Hindu subsect neighbour who gave me coffee in plastic cup. Caste is wound whose scabs are better left unpicked.
Manu Pillai, a product of this generation, makes a bold argument on how the land of many faiths and beliefs were brought under the umbrella of Hinduism and the role of the colonisers (and the missionaries) in this evolution. He weaves together a coherent narrative from various strands of history across geographies and time periods and becomes a master storyteller.
When the British landed on the shores as traders - how would they have made sense of the different practices, languages and customs in the existing social order? How would English education impact the social order and how did Brahmins, who had access to this, take control of the Hindu identity? The missionary strategy to bring "enlightenment" to the country has many unforeseen consequences, major of which is teaching the natives how a religion needs to be used as a propaganda.
The second half about the various samajs and the role of the independence movement to cleanse the bad practices and caste atrocities is a fascinating read. The book makes you almost convinced, the evolution is a positive one.
I encountered this line in the last chapter of the book about Savarkar - "History, in his books, that is, appears not in its own context or on its own terms but as raw fodder to support a predetermined position.. 'conscripting the past to tell a story' rearranging the events to address present day contingencies". And I smiled at the meta reference.
A great attempt at sense making with just enough room for doubt to not become the definitive history of Hinduism.
There is no easy way to say this, but if you are a 30-50 year Indian adult of any faith and not a jerk, you would probably have had to overcome so many biases that was fed to you as a kid. Travelling with this book over the last two months, I have had a chance to reflect on childhood memories growing up in an orthodox family. I still remember a Christian neighbour, to whose house I was prohibited to go since "They will convert" me and a Hindu subsect neighbour who gave me coffee in plastic cup. Caste is wound whose scabs are better left unpicked.
Manu Pillai, a product of this generation, makes a bold argument on how the land of many faiths and beliefs were brought under the umbrella of Hinduism and the role of the colonisers (and the missionaries) in this evolution. He weaves together a coherent narrative from various strands of history across geographies and time periods and becomes a master storyteller.
When the British landed on the shores as traders - how would they have made sense of the different practices, languages and customs in the existing social order? How would English education impact the social order and how did Brahmins, who had access to this, take control of the Hindu identity? The missionary strategy to bring "enlightenment" to the country has many unforeseen consequences, major of which is teaching the natives how a religion needs to be used as a propaganda.
The second half about the various samajs and the role of the independence movement to cleanse the bad practices and caste atrocities is a fascinating read. The book makes you almost convinced, the evolution is a positive one.
I encountered this line in the last chapter of the book about Savarkar - "History, in his books, that is, appears not in its own context or on its own terms but as raw fodder to support a predetermined position.. 'conscripting the past to tell a story' rearranging the events to address present day contingencies". And I smiled at the meta reference.
A great attempt at sense making with just enough room for doubt to not become the definitive history of Hinduism.
June 11, 2025
i appreciate the research gone into this book but my god was it dull and just frustratingly disengaging for me.
July 25, 2025
I lost the narrative as the chapters progressed. But an interesting discourse on how modern Hindu identity is deeply shaped by colonial missionary ambitions and nationalist struggles for identity.
August 6, 2025
The alternative title should be Bharat Ek Khoj - the Hindu Nationalism edition. But seriously, the amount of research that has gone into this seems staggering - over 220 pages of this 549 pager consist of Notes. In some ways, it is a study of Hindu culture, seen through the perspectives of rulers and politicians, both Indian and European, and philosophers, missionaries, and revolutionaries, juxtaposed against ground reality, but if one had to pick a thread through the chapters, it would be the study of the dynamics across history (till Independence, not contemporary, smart choice for many reasons) that led to the Hindu nationalism we now see.
The seven chapters span centuries, regions, and worldviews, switching between political, spiritual, and cultural currents and combining archival detail, anecdotal richness, and contemporary relevance. The evidence of the first two is right in the first page, in the story of the maharaja of Jaipur attending the coronation of King Edward VII in London in a steamer, with cows! From then on, the book, through about four centuries, traces the evolution of Hindu identity from the late medieval period up to the early 21st century, highlighting the political, religious, and cultural developments that shaped modern Hinduism as a more defined, self-conscious identity.
The central theme of the book is that Hinduism has never really been a monolithic concept. In fact, it has thrived precisely because it was malleable - argued over, enriched and transformed in theology, ritual and identity, by contact with others. The early parts of the book is mostly about the rich and inherent diversity - what fascinated and caused bewilderment among early European missionaries.
Practices varied widely across geography and sects, with no centralised authority. This religious elasticity was critical to Hindu society's resilience. The anecdote I mentioned earlier is interesting for this detail on adaptability too - the Jaipur maharaja's ship had an idol that the priests kept onboard so that the Raja wouldn’t technically violate the taboo against crossing the seas.
Towards the end of the book, there is an excellent analogy. Five brown persons in a room - each a different shade from the other - might not view themselves as a single organism. They might even fight with each other. But when a white person enters the room, they become aware of their common features, and if under threat, the shared brownness becomes a means to mount a joint action. This assertion happens because of the context. And that is what happened with Islamic rulers and later with European missionaries.
These external pressures became the catalyst for a growing sense of communal identity. Muslim rule sharpened regional self-awareness among Hindus, and Christian missionaries, backed (inconsistently though) by the colonial rulers, pressed Hindus to consolidate a unified theological and ideological framework. Missionaries brought critiques: denouncing polytheism, idol worship, and caste-based inequality. The British East India Company initially viewed missionaries as distractions, but gradually, thanks to the influence of evangelical groups and reform-minded legislators, accommodated them to support a civilising mission, transforming Company policy.
Reformist Hindus responded playing and many a time winning arguments even according to the rules of the West- sometimes embracing monotheism, sometimes rejecting rituals. They used these critiques to reform or rebrand Hinduism into a perceived monotheistic core compatible with Enlightenment values. Rammohan Roy, Dayananda Saraswati, Jyotirao Phule are what the book calls 'native Luthers'. Special mention for Serfoji II of Tanjore, really ahed of his time. They challenged tradition while shaping the contours of modern faith. Roy introduced the term “Hinduism” into modern discourse; Saraswati denounced idolatry and brought back Vedic teachings into the discourse; Phule attacked caste structures from within a reconstituted Hindu framework.
The final section - Drawing Blood - features the two men who really gave shape to the brand of Hindu nationalism we see today. The first, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, had an overlap of Hinduism and nationalism early in his career. Converting large religious festivals into mass political rallies, riding on Ganapati, pun slightly intended. For him, internal caste differences were no impediment, it was all one religion. Everyone else would only be 'tolerated'. For critics, Tilak wanted nationalism, but without surrendering caste prerogatives. Tilak doesn't come out looking good in the book. (read Notes)
The second - Vinayak Damodar Savarkar - the architect of modern political Hindutva. Savarkar clarified that Hindu-ness and Hinduism wasn't the same. He unified cultural, racial, and religious identity into a nationalist ideology that deliberately drew boundaries between who was “in” and “out.” His criteria- India must be one's fatherland, or the home of one's ancestors, but it must be equally one's "holy land"- hardened as he aged (partly because of the Muslim warders he dealt with in Andaman), but not only found emotional appeal, and , it now serves as the ideological foundation for the lotus kids.
The book is a fascinating read on how, through several centuries of interactions and mutations, a kaleidoscopic, regionally diverse Hindu world gradually became a (relatively) more consolidated modern identity that is now being harnessed in politics. An excellent read because it is balanced in that it neither romanticises pre-colonial unity nor does it accept colonial narratives uncritically.
Notes
1. Brahmi was the ancestor to almost all Indian scripts
2. Hinduism's evolution as per Savarkar was 'a process of assimilation, elimination, and consolidation'
3.The older portion of the Vedas are often called karma kanda (focused on sacrifice, rituals, and invocations). The vedanta is called jnana kanda - the repository of wisdom.
4. Jacob Rama Varma (1814-56) existed!
5. Tilak recommended that Pandita Ramabai restyle herself as reveranda - punning on reverend and randa (whore)
6. Tilak was once driven off stage once with tomatoes and eggs when he spoke against women's rights, and tucking away intra-Hindu dissonances on caste
The seven chapters span centuries, regions, and worldviews, switching between political, spiritual, and cultural currents and combining archival detail, anecdotal richness, and contemporary relevance. The evidence of the first two is right in the first page, in the story of the maharaja of Jaipur attending the coronation of King Edward VII in London in a steamer, with cows! From then on, the book, through about four centuries, traces the evolution of Hindu identity from the late medieval period up to the early 21st century, highlighting the political, religious, and cultural developments that shaped modern Hinduism as a more defined, self-conscious identity.
The central theme of the book is that Hinduism has never really been a monolithic concept. In fact, it has thrived precisely because it was malleable - argued over, enriched and transformed in theology, ritual and identity, by contact with others. The early parts of the book is mostly about the rich and inherent diversity - what fascinated and caused bewilderment among early European missionaries.
Practices varied widely across geography and sects, with no centralised authority. This religious elasticity was critical to Hindu society's resilience. The anecdote I mentioned earlier is interesting for this detail on adaptability too - the Jaipur maharaja's ship had an idol that the priests kept onboard so that the Raja wouldn’t technically violate the taboo against crossing the seas.
Towards the end of the book, there is an excellent analogy. Five brown persons in a room - each a different shade from the other - might not view themselves as a single organism. They might even fight with each other. But when a white person enters the room, they become aware of their common features, and if under threat, the shared brownness becomes a means to mount a joint action. This assertion happens because of the context. And that is what happened with Islamic rulers and later with European missionaries.
These external pressures became the catalyst for a growing sense of communal identity. Muslim rule sharpened regional self-awareness among Hindus, and Christian missionaries, backed (inconsistently though) by the colonial rulers, pressed Hindus to consolidate a unified theological and ideological framework. Missionaries brought critiques: denouncing polytheism, idol worship, and caste-based inequality. The British East India Company initially viewed missionaries as distractions, but gradually, thanks to the influence of evangelical groups and reform-minded legislators, accommodated them to support a civilising mission, transforming Company policy.
Reformist Hindus responded playing and many a time winning arguments even according to the rules of the West- sometimes embracing monotheism, sometimes rejecting rituals. They used these critiques to reform or rebrand Hinduism into a perceived monotheistic core compatible with Enlightenment values. Rammohan Roy, Dayananda Saraswati, Jyotirao Phule are what the book calls 'native Luthers'. Special mention for Serfoji II of Tanjore, really ahed of his time. They challenged tradition while shaping the contours of modern faith. Roy introduced the term “Hinduism” into modern discourse; Saraswati denounced idolatry and brought back Vedic teachings into the discourse; Phule attacked caste structures from within a reconstituted Hindu framework.
The final section - Drawing Blood - features the two men who really gave shape to the brand of Hindu nationalism we see today. The first, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, had an overlap of Hinduism and nationalism early in his career. Converting large religious festivals into mass political rallies, riding on Ganapati, pun slightly intended. For him, internal caste differences were no impediment, it was all one religion. Everyone else would only be 'tolerated'. For critics, Tilak wanted nationalism, but without surrendering caste prerogatives. Tilak doesn't come out looking good in the book. (read Notes)
The second - Vinayak Damodar Savarkar - the architect of modern political Hindutva. Savarkar clarified that Hindu-ness and Hinduism wasn't the same. He unified cultural, racial, and religious identity into a nationalist ideology that deliberately drew boundaries between who was “in” and “out.” His criteria- India must be one's fatherland, or the home of one's ancestors, but it must be equally one's "holy land"- hardened as he aged (partly because of the Muslim warders he dealt with in Andaman), but not only found emotional appeal, and , it now serves as the ideological foundation for the lotus kids.
The book is a fascinating read on how, through several centuries of interactions and mutations, a kaleidoscopic, regionally diverse Hindu world gradually became a (relatively) more consolidated modern identity that is now being harnessed in politics. An excellent read because it is balanced in that it neither romanticises pre-colonial unity nor does it accept colonial narratives uncritically.
Notes
1. Brahmi was the ancestor to almost all Indian scripts
2. Hinduism's evolution as per Savarkar was 'a process of assimilation, elimination, and consolidation'
3.The older portion of the Vedas are often called karma kanda (focused on sacrifice, rituals, and invocations). The vedanta is called jnana kanda - the repository of wisdom.
4. Jacob Rama Varma (1814-56) existed!
5. Tilak recommended that Pandita Ramabai restyle herself as reveranda - punning on reverend and randa (whore)
6. Tilak was once driven off stage once with tomatoes and eggs when he spoke against women's rights, and tucking away intra-Hindu dissonances on caste
December 20, 2024
No book in recent times has made me think, deliberate and recalibrate my thoughts and opinions the way this book has. This has to be Manu's best work so far. Such a complicated, intricate and sensitive history of the religion we know today as Hinduism is handled with exemplary maturity and objectivity.
October 21, 2025
I happened to start this (audio)book accidentally and very pleasantly surprised of Manu Joseph’s prowess as a historian (!!!) (who’s fictional books I’ve read and loved previously) and discovered who this person actually was, only 3 chapters in. I’m now a Manu S Pillai fan :) Cannot wait to read the rest!!
Read
August 8, 2025Goed geschreven en heel interessant! Veel geleerd over de geschiedenis van het Hindoeïsme maar ook over het kolonialisme in India vanuit Indiaas perspectief.
July 16, 2025
Closer to 4.5 but not quite there.
Quite informative. I thought the author did justice to a question he didn’t explicitly set out to answer: How did Hinduism survive and even thrive under the onslaught of conquerors (over centuries) who came with the explicit intent to proselytize and rule? To understand how curious this is, one only needs to look at the religious make up of modern day Africa or South America.
However, in regard to the question of how the modern Hindu identity was made, the book felt incomplete - specifically, the 20th century portion didn’t seem at all comprehensive. Any discussion on modern Hinduism needed to spend more ink on the dismantling of untouchability and caste system, there was very little text on this. Pillai also focuses his 20th century narrative on Tilak and Savarkar. They undoubtedly played a role, but two towering figures in India of the time, Gandhi and Tagore, were both deeply religious and had a great deal to say about religion. Gandhi is barely mentioned, Tagore not at all. Gandhi especially, I'd argue, was central not only to the making of our national identity, but also the Hindu identity through massive programs of reform. And it was he who had the masses enthralled, not Savarkar. (Afterall, Jinnah would never tire of, ungraciously of course, calling Gandhi "the Hindu representative"). Or does the author equate the "modern Hindu identity" with radical Hindutva, not Gandhi's brand of inclusive pluralism? If this was a deliberate choice of narrative, it is one that is hard to forgive.
Even the discussion on Savarkar didn't feel complete. How can one talk of a Savarkar without talking of a Jinnah when they both existed within the same social context? The existence and views of one undoubtedly influenced the other. Perhaps the author chose to stay away from a lengthy discussion on India of the 20th century since this would have added a weighty section to his already long book, but if not a tome, this period at least deserved twice as much ink as it had in the book.
To close on a positive note, Pillai, to his credit, doesn't try to define Hinduism. It would have been a hard thing had he attempted. Hinduism continues to defy definitions since people with widely disparate belief systems and practices, including some atheists, identify under its umbrella.
Quite informative. I thought the author did justice to a question he didn’t explicitly set out to answer: How did Hinduism survive and even thrive under the onslaught of conquerors (over centuries) who came with the explicit intent to proselytize and rule? To understand how curious this is, one only needs to look at the religious make up of modern day Africa or South America.
However, in regard to the question of how the modern Hindu identity was made, the book felt incomplete - specifically, the 20th century portion didn’t seem at all comprehensive. Any discussion on modern Hinduism needed to spend more ink on the dismantling of untouchability and caste system, there was very little text on this. Pillai also focuses his 20th century narrative on Tilak and Savarkar. They undoubtedly played a role, but two towering figures in India of the time, Gandhi and Tagore, were both deeply religious and had a great deal to say about religion. Gandhi is barely mentioned, Tagore not at all. Gandhi especially, I'd argue, was central not only to the making of our national identity, but also the Hindu identity through massive programs of reform. And it was he who had the masses enthralled, not Savarkar. (Afterall, Jinnah would never tire of, ungraciously of course, calling Gandhi "the Hindu representative"). Or does the author equate the "modern Hindu identity" with radical Hindutva, not Gandhi's brand of inclusive pluralism? If this was a deliberate choice of narrative, it is one that is hard to forgive.
Even the discussion on Savarkar didn't feel complete. How can one talk of a Savarkar without talking of a Jinnah when they both existed within the same social context? The existence and views of one undoubtedly influenced the other. Perhaps the author chose to stay away from a lengthy discussion on India of the 20th century since this would have added a weighty section to his already long book, but if not a tome, this period at least deserved twice as much ink as it had in the book.
To close on a positive note, Pillai, to his credit, doesn't try to define Hinduism. It would have been a hard thing had he attempted. Hinduism continues to defy definitions since people with widely disparate belief systems and practices, including some atheists, identify under its umbrella.
August 25, 2025
This is a brilliant work that uses a significant amount of research to show how modern Hindu identity is the result of Hindus' complex use of existing Hindu theology and tradition in a colonial context. Or the history of how, to paraphrase Pillai, Hindu wine was filled in colonial Christian bottles. Taking us from early European encounters with medieval India to the eve of Partition, it is a coherent account of the building of a more solid, though always contested, Hindu identity.
Future work could probably include the works of other Hindu revivalists like Swami Vivekananda and S.Radhakrishnan. That said this is an important work on Hindu history, practice, and theology; one that shows how Hinduism 's innate flexibility and vast corpus of texts and practices enable it to survive and thrive in adverse situations.
Future work could probably include the works of other Hindu revivalists like Swami Vivekananda and S.Radhakrishnan. That said this is an important work on Hindu history, practice, and theology; one that shows how Hinduism 's innate flexibility and vast corpus of texts and practices enable it to survive and thrive in adverse situations.
January 23, 2025
This is one of those books where the content, the research behind the content, the spark that provided the inception of the book and the hard work of the author shines through. But doesn't necessarily make for great reading.
April 14, 2025
Disclosure: I received a free copy of this book from NetGalley and Allen Lane in exchange for an honest review
It's a credit to this book that despite the fact that I know next to nothing about Hinduism, I still found this book very interesting and engaging. Despite being a fairly long book on a somewhat technical topic, it didn't drag or ever feel like a slog. I was engaged thoughout and learned quite a lot.
The only weakness was the emphasis on outsiders viewpoints and their (mis)conceptions of Hinduism, we don't get much of the Indian perspective until the final two chapters. The book ends in the early 20th century when it felt like the debate was only truly beginning, not ending.
But overall, a very interesting book.
It's a credit to this book that despite the fact that I know next to nothing about Hinduism, I still found this book very interesting and engaging. Despite being a fairly long book on a somewhat technical topic, it didn't drag or ever feel like a slog. I was engaged thoughout and learned quite a lot.
The only weakness was the emphasis on outsiders viewpoints and their (mis)conceptions of Hinduism, we don't get much of the Indian perspective until the final two chapters. The book ends in the early 20th century when it felt like the debate was only truly beginning, not ending.
But overall, a very interesting book.
July 24, 2025
Interesting read but left me a bit frustrated at the end. I think the reason is the issue of caste.
While the author discusses threadbare the influences of colonial/western movements and resultant churning of native religious beliefs, not enough rigour seems to be accorded to the debate around caste. The entire BR Ambedkar/ Gandhi adversity is skipped and infact Gandhi is not discussed at all, which feels odd, given how the author even attempts to provide an intellectual garb to militant Hindutva. It is still a fruitful, enjoyable read, I would say.
While the author discusses threadbare the influences of colonial/western movements and resultant churning of native religious beliefs, not enough rigour seems to be accorded to the debate around caste. The entire BR Ambedkar/ Gandhi adversity is skipped and infact Gandhi is not discussed at all, which feels odd, given how the author even attempts to provide an intellectual garb to militant Hindutva. It is still a fruitful, enjoyable read, I would say.
March 15, 2025
This book gave me a deeper understanding of the nuances of Hinduism—how its identity was formed, how it evolved over time, and how it responded to the presence of white colonizers. It traces the journey from the concept of being Hindu to Hinduism and, eventually, the rise of hardline Hindutva. The nuanced exploration of early reformers and firebrands was particularly striking—reading about certain facets of these figures was shocking, as history books often present a more distilled, whitewashed version. I just wish there were more pages left to read!
August 7, 2025
A very good read, charting the development of the Hindu identity from the Puranic attempts to reconcile the Vedas with local cults, the first excursions of European missionaries, developments under the colonial period, Rammohan Roy, Dayanand Saraswati, Sree Narayana Guru, the Phules to Tilak, Savarkar and the development of modern Hindutva proper. Fair, objective, and unbiased towards either rightwing or leftwing narratives.
December 14, 2024
Hinduism is a constantly evolving religion. This characteristic is also a proof of its vitality. Contrary to what happened to Paganism in Greece and Rome at the end the classical period, Hinduism withstood the crushing impact of not one, but two Abrahamic religions one after the other and still survived to tell the tale. Hinduism is flexible enough to accommodate any number of gods or even to incorporate external deities somewhere on the branches of its vast mythology. It successfully employed this strategy to absorb strangers into its fold till the arrival of Islam which could not be reconciled due to its professed exclusivity and monopoly on divinity. The same thing happened with Christianity too. At the same time, the Hindus also felt compulsions of various sorts to convert them to the new ‘monotheistic’ faiths. Evidently, Hinduism had to change subtly to effectively engage with the new threat. This was felt more seriously on interactions with the Christian faith. Though the Islamic invasions were militarily brutal and materially exhausting, it proved to be intellectually bankrupt. It somewhat transformed Hinduism but never on the immense scale Christianity did. This book tells the story of how gods (reinvention of Hinduism by anchoring on its philosophical past), guns (colonial power) and missionaries (evangelical efforts at proselytization) completely reformed Hinduism in the last four centuries after the arrival of Europeans in the sixteenth century. Manu S. Pillai is a talented, young author and this is his fifth book. You can find reviews of all his earlier works here. This book’s title involves a little bit of plagiarism with Jared Diamond’s incredibly well-written book, ‘Guns, Germs and Steel’.
Pillai begins his exhaustive survey with the practical adjustments Hinduism made on the ground even before the arrival of Semitic religions. Brahmins acted as a repository of theoretical knowledge and provided the mechanism to bend it constructively to make life easier – at least for themselves and their patrons. Brahmins bypassed awkward corners between theory and reality through the manipulation of tradition. Kings of low birth changed caste and varna by a ritual in which they symbolically emerged out of an artificial gold cow. The four-fold division of varnas – which is often portrayed as rigid and unchanging – was only an idealized aspiration of the Brahminized world that never existed in such perfection anywhere in India. Hinduism is not what Brahmins actually wanted; instead, it is the story of their negotiations with a bewildering variety of counter-thoughts and alternate visions. Change is coded into its DNA (p. xix). This book is the study of Hinduism of the last four centuries. Its motive is to survey the historical setting and emotional stimulus empowering present-day Hinduism. The author also claims that it is not a history of Hindu philosophy or of the lofty ideas of ancient sages. It deals with human actions and reactions in the context of political conquest, cultural dominance and resistance.
Hinduism met Christianity on many fronts and in different time periods. In the pre-medieval and early-medieval accounts of European travellers and merchants, India was portrayed as a heathen country where the devil was worshipped and was home to revulsive sexual practices. Hindus didn’t care. They lay diffused across the country and were nonchalant as to be concerned with what was being said of them in distant lands. But with European powers establishing trade with India and meddling in internal politics by the seventeenth century, they sat up and took notice, but still in isolated pockets. It was in response to the European portrayal of Hindus that Hinduism took its contemporary modern form, drawing pride and confidence from certain aspects of its past and shame from others. The book describes the early interactions of missionaries with Hinduism. Hindus listened to them with genuine interest and was even willing to accept their precepts as true, but stoutly refused to concede that this was the only way of knowing divinity. Hinduism always made space for ideological diversity and could not acquiesce in to claims on monopoly of truth. The Hindu philosophers never accused Christianity to be false, but that it might be adapted to the missionary’s part of the world. Quite contrary to this expression of tolerance, the missionaries thought everything else as diabolical pretension of primitive paganism. Over time, the missionaries collected and began to study Hindu texts and were gradually compelled to admit some goodness in it. One scholar grudgingly remarked that ‘even though much reeked of the dung pit, Hinduism had pearls by which white men too could benefit’ (p.56). This attitude grew with further study. In the peak of Enlightenment in the eighteenth century, white intellectuals dismissed the Hindu society of the present, but romanticised its past. The formula would be amplified by Hindus in future. The Western philosophers, disillusioned with the religion at home, felt the need to idealize an alternative Hinduism which was presented as just the item with the mysterious Vedas.
The eighteenth century saw the dawn of a fresh chapter in Hindu-Christian relations with the entrenchment of British power in Bengal and North India. Warren Hastings and William Jones researched on Indian law and literature respectively. The aim was to reformulate ancient Hindu law so that the present society could be administered on its basis. But the law they painstakingly unearthed had no universal applicability. Customs of caste, region and sect were what guided people’s lives. It only suited the empire’s purposes to have a set of rules of whose legitimacy the subject people could not challenge. Intellectual emphasis focussed on scripture above custom and the enthroning of philosophical Hinduism as more legitimate than the ‘lower’ form. Pillai also amusingly notes how Victorian morals censored portions of open sensuality in Indian texts. While on one occasion Kalidasa describes Shakuntala as sweaty, it was translated into English as ‘glowing complexion’! When faced with such censure of their ancestors’ tastes, natives unnecessarily developed feelings of shame. All in all, Indian confidence ballooned as an unforeseen by-product of Orientalism. Its retrieval of past heroes and celebration of Indian accomplishments injected pride into the colonial subjects. Through the first half of the nineteenth century, the British oscillated between promoting traditional learning and introducing Western ideas through school education in English.
The nineteenth century saw another marked shift in the religious equation. Having successfully set up a colonial regime and also keeping internal security on a firm footing, the colonial masters again took on an aspect of complacent disdain on the native religion. Meanwhile, Hindus felt the days of Sanskrit education was over even though it was supported by the colonizer. A Hindu college to teach Western literature and science was set up in Calcutta in 1817 by Indians and dissenting British men who collected Rs. 1,13,000 locally, while the entire government budget for education in Bengal was only Rs. 1,00,000. The Orientalists objected to this, but the transition from Sanskrit to English was most pointedly expressed in the mid-1830s when state funding was reserved only for modern education in English. Meanwhile, the missionaries encouraged vernacular education, the only target being the conversion of pupils. The author cites a geography textbook in one of these schools that urged ‘the people of India’ to ‘accept the message of Christ’ and ‘endeavour to spread it’. By 1850s, British political power reached the zenith and even the son of the ‘Lion of Punjab’ Maharaja Ranjit Singh, named Duleep Singh, was converted to Christianity. Viceroy Dalhousie was restless to spread the Christian faith in India. It was he who cleverly stage-managed the conversion of Duleep Singh. A prominent cleavage in the conception of India among the British society became very evident at this point. Orientalists praised the glories of India, its ancient philosophies and Sanskrit literature, while the evangelists were producing material that cast Hindus as a class of ‘infant-murdering, wife-burning debauchees, in desperate need of reform’ (p.177). With the East India Company’s charter amended to accommodate evangelical work in 1813 and 1833, officials’ attitudes stiffened. Patronage extended to temples was withdrawn. In 1857, however, India responded with a full-blown revolt that forced the British to adopt a technically neutral stand on the issue of religion in future. In 1790 itself, Governor General Cornwallis had written that the company’s security rested on native troops and to meddle in the religion would jeopardize security. The book however keeps silent on the religious aspects of the 1857 rebellion's causes. The issue of greased cartridges was only the fuse that lit the fire, while the powder had been accumulating for years. Anyhow, I am fairly sure that the current breed of Indian secularists, including the author, would accuse the rebels of narrow-mindedness and communalism for their refusal to handle cartridges lubricated with the fat of cows and pigs.
After the Rebellion, the religious kaleidoscope shifted once again. Reform movements sprang up everywhere to give a facelift to the ancient religion. Demands for equality for the oppressed lower castes followed close on its heels. At the peak of these two, nationalism blossomed – both of the secular and cultural varieties. Pillai finds a strain of resemblance between the Protestant movement in England and the Hindu reformers. Like Protestants, Indian reformers placed scripture over custom and accumulated tradition. They parked blame for Hinduism’s decline from unparalleled purity on the Brahmins, just like the Protestant battering of Catholic priest craft. Ram Mohan Roy was vocal in denouncing Brahminic obfuscation of Vedic ideas on monotheism. This blunted the Christian threat to Hinduism as the Catholic Church’s liturgy differed not much from full-blooded idolatry. But very few Hindus practised what they preached and ordinary temple worship thrived as vigorously as before. Dayananda Saraswati’s Arya Samaj began venerating the cow as a formative rite to unite Hindus. The author deliberately hints here that cow worship began at this point, while in fact it was followed from very early times. Reconversion back to Hinduism through ‘Shuddhi’ was also developed. By the latter half of nineteenth century, untouchables began to assert their identity. Jyotiba Phule repudiated everything Hindu, from Vedas to idol worship, while Narayana Guru of Kerala accommodated some degree of Sanskritization, himself a Sanskrit scholar. Guru’s reforms lay in rejecting Brahminism as a social practice, while democratising Brahminic Hinduism (p.253).
The book’s final chapter, ‘Drawing Blood’, is reserved to heap scorn and mockery on Tilak and Savarkar, the two glowing figureheads of Hindu nationalism. A reasonably true biography of both are given, but interspersed with skewed and derisively paraphrased quotations. It seems the author’s pique against the duo is for the fact that they tried to unite the Hindus socially, perhaps for the first time ever in Indian history. This might be going against the grain of Western philosophical theory that could not comprehend the coming together of such diverse peoples under a common banner. This book is part of the anti-Hindutva movement and is relentlessly chipping away at its roots. Pillai does not mention this openly, in variance to what Charles Allen openly confessed in his recent book, ‘Aryans – The Search for a People, a Place and a Myth’ (reviewed earlier here). Tilak started the Ganapati and Shivaji festivals to gather people together as a means to move political work forward. Fun and play were the vehicles to impart political awareness among grumbles of turning faith into spectacle. The author nit-picks on Tilak’s speeches in order to find snippets against untouchables. With this in mind, he quotes a little known research paper at an obscure Canadian university to claim that Tilak made a disparaging remark about two communities as “which have no job avenues left other than thieving” (p.282). The source of this discovery is only a paper by Amar Khoday submitted at Manitoba University, but this information is concealed deep in the thick jungle of notes at the end of the book.
The book is very big at 564 pages, 238 of them nothing but notes totalling 2308 which are thoroughly researched entities that appears as a corporate effort rather than of a single person. However, Pillai has not acknowledged it. A very large number of books and papers have been consulted obviously but unusually for such an effort, no bibliography is given at the end. This is somewhat strange, forcing the reader to go through each and every note to find the sources. Quotes from Wendy Doniger and Audrey Truschke are given prime spots of accommodation though – or because of? – they are outspoken critics of Hinduism. Some parts of the book are recycled from the author’s previous works. The activities of the monk Roberto de Nobili who dressed, worked and lived like a Brahmin, wearing even the sacred thread, to convert Hindus can also be found in Pillai’s book, ‘The Courtesan, the Mahatma and the Italian Brahmin’ (reviewed earlier here) and stories about Serfoji II of Tanjore are in ‘False Allies: India’s Maharajahs in the Age of Ravi Varma’ (reviewed earlier here). The book includes early sketches of people and events starting from the sixteenth century and sourced from rare collections in Europe and the USA. Islam makes only a cameo appearance in the book, but when it does, the author treats it with kid gloves unlike what he does with the others. He remarks that Brahmins ordered the world into castes while Islam proposed egalitarianism. Instances of proper justice meted out to Hindus in the Mughal period, however rare, are unearthed from little-known works to generalize it. The sentence construction in the book is a bit laboured with lots of commas, hyphens, semicolons and brackets that affect readability. Of course, some may enjoy them. Even though the author’s views on the making of modern Hinduism are not agreeable to most readers, he has provided a lively survey of the encounter between Hindus and the Europeans in their various avatars as missionaries, orientalists and colonial administrators.
The book is recommended.
Pillai begins his exhaustive survey with the practical adjustments Hinduism made on the ground even before the arrival of Semitic religions. Brahmins acted as a repository of theoretical knowledge and provided the mechanism to bend it constructively to make life easier – at least for themselves and their patrons. Brahmins bypassed awkward corners between theory and reality through the manipulation of tradition. Kings of low birth changed caste and varna by a ritual in which they symbolically emerged out of an artificial gold cow. The four-fold division of varnas – which is often portrayed as rigid and unchanging – was only an idealized aspiration of the Brahminized world that never existed in such perfection anywhere in India. Hinduism is not what Brahmins actually wanted; instead, it is the story of their negotiations with a bewildering variety of counter-thoughts and alternate visions. Change is coded into its DNA (p. xix). This book is the study of Hinduism of the last four centuries. Its motive is to survey the historical setting and emotional stimulus empowering present-day Hinduism. The author also claims that it is not a history of Hindu philosophy or of the lofty ideas of ancient sages. It deals with human actions and reactions in the context of political conquest, cultural dominance and resistance.
Hinduism met Christianity on many fronts and in different time periods. In the pre-medieval and early-medieval accounts of European travellers and merchants, India was portrayed as a heathen country where the devil was worshipped and was home to revulsive sexual practices. Hindus didn’t care. They lay diffused across the country and were nonchalant as to be concerned with what was being said of them in distant lands. But with European powers establishing trade with India and meddling in internal politics by the seventeenth century, they sat up and took notice, but still in isolated pockets. It was in response to the European portrayal of Hindus that Hinduism took its contemporary modern form, drawing pride and confidence from certain aspects of its past and shame from others. The book describes the early interactions of missionaries with Hinduism. Hindus listened to them with genuine interest and was even willing to accept their precepts as true, but stoutly refused to concede that this was the only way of knowing divinity. Hinduism always made space for ideological diversity and could not acquiesce in to claims on monopoly of truth. The Hindu philosophers never accused Christianity to be false, but that it might be adapted to the missionary’s part of the world. Quite contrary to this expression of tolerance, the missionaries thought everything else as diabolical pretension of primitive paganism. Over time, the missionaries collected and began to study Hindu texts and were gradually compelled to admit some goodness in it. One scholar grudgingly remarked that ‘even though much reeked of the dung pit, Hinduism had pearls by which white men too could benefit’ (p.56). This attitude grew with further study. In the peak of Enlightenment in the eighteenth century, white intellectuals dismissed the Hindu society of the present, but romanticised its past. The formula would be amplified by Hindus in future. The Western philosophers, disillusioned with the religion at home, felt the need to idealize an alternative Hinduism which was presented as just the item with the mysterious Vedas.
The eighteenth century saw the dawn of a fresh chapter in Hindu-Christian relations with the entrenchment of British power in Bengal and North India. Warren Hastings and William Jones researched on Indian law and literature respectively. The aim was to reformulate ancient Hindu law so that the present society could be administered on its basis. But the law they painstakingly unearthed had no universal applicability. Customs of caste, region and sect were what guided people’s lives. It only suited the empire’s purposes to have a set of rules of whose legitimacy the subject people could not challenge. Intellectual emphasis focussed on scripture above custom and the enthroning of philosophical Hinduism as more legitimate than the ‘lower’ form. Pillai also amusingly notes how Victorian morals censored portions of open sensuality in Indian texts. While on one occasion Kalidasa describes Shakuntala as sweaty, it was translated into English as ‘glowing complexion’! When faced with such censure of their ancestors’ tastes, natives unnecessarily developed feelings of shame. All in all, Indian confidence ballooned as an unforeseen by-product of Orientalism. Its retrieval of past heroes and celebration of Indian accomplishments injected pride into the colonial subjects. Through the first half of the nineteenth century, the British oscillated between promoting traditional learning and introducing Western ideas through school education in English.
The nineteenth century saw another marked shift in the religious equation. Having successfully set up a colonial regime and also keeping internal security on a firm footing, the colonial masters again took on an aspect of complacent disdain on the native religion. Meanwhile, Hindus felt the days of Sanskrit education was over even though it was supported by the colonizer. A Hindu college to teach Western literature and science was set up in Calcutta in 1817 by Indians and dissenting British men who collected Rs. 1,13,000 locally, while the entire government budget for education in Bengal was only Rs. 1,00,000. The Orientalists objected to this, but the transition from Sanskrit to English was most pointedly expressed in the mid-1830s when state funding was reserved only for modern education in English. Meanwhile, the missionaries encouraged vernacular education, the only target being the conversion of pupils. The author cites a geography textbook in one of these schools that urged ‘the people of India’ to ‘accept the message of Christ’ and ‘endeavour to spread it’. By 1850s, British political power reached the zenith and even the son of the ‘Lion of Punjab’ Maharaja Ranjit Singh, named Duleep Singh, was converted to Christianity. Viceroy Dalhousie was restless to spread the Christian faith in India. It was he who cleverly stage-managed the conversion of Duleep Singh. A prominent cleavage in the conception of India among the British society became very evident at this point. Orientalists praised the glories of India, its ancient philosophies and Sanskrit literature, while the evangelists were producing material that cast Hindus as a class of ‘infant-murdering, wife-burning debauchees, in desperate need of reform’ (p.177). With the East India Company’s charter amended to accommodate evangelical work in 1813 and 1833, officials’ attitudes stiffened. Patronage extended to temples was withdrawn. In 1857, however, India responded with a full-blown revolt that forced the British to adopt a technically neutral stand on the issue of religion in future. In 1790 itself, Governor General Cornwallis had written that the company’s security rested on native troops and to meddle in the religion would jeopardize security. The book however keeps silent on the religious aspects of the 1857 rebellion's causes. The issue of greased cartridges was only the fuse that lit the fire, while the powder had been accumulating for years. Anyhow, I am fairly sure that the current breed of Indian secularists, including the author, would accuse the rebels of narrow-mindedness and communalism for their refusal to handle cartridges lubricated with the fat of cows and pigs.
After the Rebellion, the religious kaleidoscope shifted once again. Reform movements sprang up everywhere to give a facelift to the ancient religion. Demands for equality for the oppressed lower castes followed close on its heels. At the peak of these two, nationalism blossomed – both of the secular and cultural varieties. Pillai finds a strain of resemblance between the Protestant movement in England and the Hindu reformers. Like Protestants, Indian reformers placed scripture over custom and accumulated tradition. They parked blame for Hinduism’s decline from unparalleled purity on the Brahmins, just like the Protestant battering of Catholic priest craft. Ram Mohan Roy was vocal in denouncing Brahminic obfuscation of Vedic ideas on monotheism. This blunted the Christian threat to Hinduism as the Catholic Church’s liturgy differed not much from full-blooded idolatry. But very few Hindus practised what they preached and ordinary temple worship thrived as vigorously as before. Dayananda Saraswati’s Arya Samaj began venerating the cow as a formative rite to unite Hindus. The author deliberately hints here that cow worship began at this point, while in fact it was followed from very early times. Reconversion back to Hinduism through ‘Shuddhi’ was also developed. By the latter half of nineteenth century, untouchables began to assert their identity. Jyotiba Phule repudiated everything Hindu, from Vedas to idol worship, while Narayana Guru of Kerala accommodated some degree of Sanskritization, himself a Sanskrit scholar. Guru’s reforms lay in rejecting Brahminism as a social practice, while democratising Brahminic Hinduism (p.253).
The book’s final chapter, ‘Drawing Blood’, is reserved to heap scorn and mockery on Tilak and Savarkar, the two glowing figureheads of Hindu nationalism. A reasonably true biography of both are given, but interspersed with skewed and derisively paraphrased quotations. It seems the author’s pique against the duo is for the fact that they tried to unite the Hindus socially, perhaps for the first time ever in Indian history. This might be going against the grain of Western philosophical theory that could not comprehend the coming together of such diverse peoples under a common banner. This book is part of the anti-Hindutva movement and is relentlessly chipping away at its roots. Pillai does not mention this openly, in variance to what Charles Allen openly confessed in his recent book, ‘Aryans – The Search for a People, a Place and a Myth’ (reviewed earlier here). Tilak started the Ganapati and Shivaji festivals to gather people together as a means to move political work forward. Fun and play were the vehicles to impart political awareness among grumbles of turning faith into spectacle. The author nit-picks on Tilak’s speeches in order to find snippets against untouchables. With this in mind, he quotes a little known research paper at an obscure Canadian university to claim that Tilak made a disparaging remark about two communities as “which have no job avenues left other than thieving” (p.282). The source of this discovery is only a paper by Amar Khoday submitted at Manitoba University, but this information is concealed deep in the thick jungle of notes at the end of the book.
The book is very big at 564 pages, 238 of them nothing but notes totalling 2308 which are thoroughly researched entities that appears as a corporate effort rather than of a single person. However, Pillai has not acknowledged it. A very large number of books and papers have been consulted obviously but unusually for such an effort, no bibliography is given at the end. This is somewhat strange, forcing the reader to go through each and every note to find the sources. Quotes from Wendy Doniger and Audrey Truschke are given prime spots of accommodation though – or because of? – they are outspoken critics of Hinduism. Some parts of the book are recycled from the author’s previous works. The activities of the monk Roberto de Nobili who dressed, worked and lived like a Brahmin, wearing even the sacred thread, to convert Hindus can also be found in Pillai’s book, ‘The Courtesan, the Mahatma and the Italian Brahmin’ (reviewed earlier here) and stories about Serfoji II of Tanjore are in ‘False Allies: India’s Maharajahs in the Age of Ravi Varma’ (reviewed earlier here). The book includes early sketches of people and events starting from the sixteenth century and sourced from rare collections in Europe and the USA. Islam makes only a cameo appearance in the book, but when it does, the author treats it with kid gloves unlike what he does with the others. He remarks that Brahmins ordered the world into castes while Islam proposed egalitarianism. Instances of proper justice meted out to Hindus in the Mughal period, however rare, are unearthed from little-known works to generalize it. The sentence construction in the book is a bit laboured with lots of commas, hyphens, semicolons and brackets that affect readability. Of course, some may enjoy them. Even though the author’s views on the making of modern Hinduism are not agreeable to most readers, he has provided a lively survey of the encounter between Hindus and the Europeans in their various avatars as missionaries, orientalists and colonial administrators.
The book is recommended.
January 29, 2025
Extremely well researched, argued and written. Unlearn. Learn.
September 13, 2025
#Binge Reviewing my previous Reads # Hindutva, Indic
There are few contemporary Indian historians who have managed to walk the fine line between scholarly rigour and narrative readability as deftly as Manu S. Pillai. Ever since his breakout work The Ivory Throne (2015), a deeply textured account of Kerala’s Travancore monarchy and the eccentric yet remarkable Sethu Lakshmi Bayi, Pillai has acquired a reputation as a storyteller who neither abandons complexity nor drowns the general reader in dry archival trivia. His subsequent works — Rebel Sultans (2018), which explored the turbulent history of the Deccan, and False Allies (2021), which re-examined India’s princely states in the run-up to independence — all carried this same balance: lush in anecdote, careful in research, quietly polemical without being polemical.
With Gods, Guns and Missionaries: The Making of the Modern Hindu Identity, Pillai has written his most ambitious book yet. It is a vast chronicle, stretching across four centuries, seeking to map how “Hindu identity” — a term often wielded with an air of timelessness in contemporary political rhetoric — actually took shape in conversation with missionaries, colonisers, polemicists, and reformers. It is not, crucially, a book about Hindutva per se, nor a political history of the Hindu Right. It is instead an anatomy of something broader and subtler: the processes by which diverse traditions, rituals, theological debates, and cultural anxieties coalesced into what could be called a “modern Hindu identity.”
Pillai is not the first to make this point. Historians from Wilhelm Halbfass to Sheldon Pollock to Brian Hatcher have shown how 19th-century Hindu reform movements absorbed Protestant frameworks of textual primacy, or how colonial categorisation hardened fluid practices into rigid boundaries. But what distinguishes Pillai is the scope and granularity of his narrative. He is not writing a slender, thesis-driven academic monograph; he is writing a panoramic history, studded with colourful episodes, aimed at the thoughtful general reader. And in this sense, Gods, Guns and Missionaries resembles his earlier works while also expanding their ambition: where The Ivory Throne focused on one kingdom and its fraught matrilineal politics, here he attempts nothing less than the longue durée of Hindu identity itself.
One of the central arguments of the book is deceptively simple: Hindu identity was not a fixed, timeless essence but something shaped over centuries of contest, encounter, and adaptation. In the early modern period, rulers, poets, and communities engaged in complex interactions with Muslim polities, producing forms of syncretism and shared practice. With the arrival of European missionaries, particularly Jesuits in the 16th century and Protestants later, another layer of pressure was added. Missionary critiques of “idolatry,” “superstition,” and “licentiousness” forced Hindu elites to respond — sometimes defensively, sometimes by reformulating their own traditions in terms that borrowed from their critics.
This is where Pillai’s history becomes illuminating for our present. The very categories that continue to structure debates today — the notion of “superstition” versus “rational religion,” the obsession with textual authority, the emphasis on purification and reform — were, in many ways, products of this long history of polemic and counter-polemic. A Hindu reformer in the 19th century could argue that idol worship was a symbolic act rather than literal superstition, but the fact that he had to frame the argument in this binary was itself a result of missionary critique.
In this respect, Pillai’s book sits in dialogue with Swapan Dasgupta’s Awakening Bharat Mata (2019), which anthologises writings from the 19th and 20th centuries to trace the genealogy of Hindu nationalism. Where Dasgupta presents these voices often as precursors to a civilisational nationalism, Pillai situates them in a more ambivalent, contested process. Dasgupta’s anthology has the mood of inevitability: that the rise of Hindu nationalism was a natural culmination of historical stirrings. Pillai resists this teleology. His story is one of plurality, adaptation, and improvisation, where identity was forged not in linear progression but through fragmented encounters and borrowed idioms.
What makes Gods, Guns and Missionaries engaging is not just its thesis but its texture. Like his previous works, Pillai delights in anecdote. He recounts the tale of a Maharaja of Jaipur who once sent an idol to Britain for consecration — an act that in hindsight looks blasphemous to purists but reveals the creative ways rulers negotiated with colonial modernity. He introduces polemicists who defended rituals with ferocity and reformers who sought to rationalise or sanitise practices. By layering these stories, Pillai prevents the history from ossifying into abstraction.
This method was already visible in Rebel Sultans, where the Deccan’s political turbulence was rendered vivid through the lives of rulers, poets, and mercenaries. In False Allies, he showed how Indian princes were far from mere decadent puppets, but often active, modernising agents. In Gods, Guns and Missionaries, the dramatis personae are broader: from Jesuit missionaries to Orientalist scholars, from Hindu reformers like Rammohan Roy to lesser-known regional actors. It is, if anything, more demanding on the reader’s attention, but it is also rewarding: identity emerges not as a schematic but as a lived experience of countless agents.
Several things stand out as real achievements. First, the sheer scope. To tell a story across 400 years and multiple regions of India without collapsing into vagueness is no small feat. Pillai manages to retain specificity even while sweeping widely. Second, his refusal of simplistic binaries. It is tempting, especially in contemporary discourse, to present Hinduism as either eternally tolerant and plural or as eternally hierarchical and oppressive. Pillai avoids both caricatures. He shows that Hindu identity was neither monolithic nor wholly fragmented, but something that cohered under pressure and yet always retained internal diversity.
Third, the clarity of prose. Pillai has the gift, rare among historians, of writing sentences that are elegant without being ornate. Even when discussing complex intellectual debates — say, the Protestant critique of ritual or the Hindu counter-defence of murti worship — he renders them accessible. This has been his consistent strength: whether in the dense political intrigues of Travancore in The Ivory Throne or the sprawling princely histories of False Allies, Pillai writes history as narrative, not as jargon.
That said, the book is not without its limitations. For one, the narrative remains, to a significant extent, elite-driven. The protagonists are often rulers, reformers, or missionaries, whose voices survive in archives. The lived practices of peasants, lower castes, or women appear less frequently, except when mediated by elite reformist or missionary texts. This is, to some degree, an inevitable limitation of sources, but it does risk giving the impression that “Hindu identity” was primarily a debate among elites, later transmitted downwards.
Second, while Pillai is attentive to plurality, he sometimes underplays the violence of homogenisation. The absorption of missionary critiques may have sharpened Hindu defences, but it also marginalised folk traditions, heterodox sects, and non-Brahminical practices. The risk here is that “modern Hindu identity” becomes largely a story of Sanskritic and reformist consolidation, with subaltern experiences left somewhat in the background.
Third, the book’s endpoint feels abrupt. By the mid-20th century, one wants to see how these long histories fed directly into post-Independence politics, into the rise of Hindutva as a mass movement. Pillai gestures toward it but does not develop it. In a way, the reader is left standing at the threshold of the contemporary moment without being walked through. This is a conscious choice — the book is about formation, not aftermath — but it does leave the story tantalisingly incomplete.
Despite these limitations, the significance of Gods, Guns and Missionaries is clear. In a moment when Hindu identity is hotly contested in political and cultural arenas, this book historicises the debate. It reminds us that what is often presented as “timeless” or “ancient” is, in fact, the product of centuries of change, argument, and adaptation.
In this sense, Pillai’s project is very different from the civilisational certitude of Awakening Bharat Mata. Where Dasgupta’s anthology is unabashedly ideological, celebrating the voices of Hindu nationalism as a patriotic awakening, Pillai’s work is diagnostic. He does not write to celebrate or condemn but to show. And in showing, he subtly destabilises the certitudes of contemporary polemics.
The comparison also highlights a broader trend in Indian historiography. On one hand, there are works that present Hindu identity as natural, organic, an eternal essence now reasserting itself. On the other, there are works that see it as wholly a colonial invention, a category imposed from outside. Pillai stakes out a middle ground: Hindu identity was neither wholly timeless nor wholly invented. It was a layered process, produced in dialogue with multiple forces, some internal, some external. This middle ground may frustrate polemicists who prefer clear answers, but it is historically honest.
For me, reading Gods, Guns and Missionaries felt like peeling back the sediment of centuries. The rituals and debates I grew up seeing — arguments about “real Hinduism,” anxieties about superstition versus science, claims about tolerance and purity — suddenly acquired historical depth. They were no longer merely features of contemporary politics but echoes of older arguments, refracted through missionary critique, colonial power, and reformist anxiety.
I also found myself thinking back to Pillai’s False Allies. That book sought to dismantle the stereotype of princely states as decadent relics, showing instead how they were modernising actors. Gods, Guns and Missionaries performs a similar function for Hindu identity. It dismantles the caricature of Hinduism as either static or wholly invented, showing instead a tradition that was dynamic, self-critical, and responsive, often in unexpected ways.
At times, I wished Pillai had pushed harder into the contemporary: how do these long histories shape Hindutva’s current dominance, or the rhetoric of “civilisational clash” that saturates today’s media? But perhaps restraint is also a virtue. By stopping short, Pillai allows readers to make the connections themselves. He gives us the genealogy, not the editorial.
In the end, Gods, Guns and Missionaries is a major work of Indian history writing. It is ambitious, meticulously researched, and elegantly written. It refuses simplifications and instead offers a layered account of how modern Hindu identity emerged through centuries of encounter, conflict, and adaptation. Its limitations — its elite focus, its underplayed subaltern voices, its reticence on the contemporary — do not diminish its achievement.
Compared with Pillai’s earlier works, this book is broader, more ambitious, less intimate perhaps, but more consequential. Compared with ideological texts like Awakening Bharat Mata, it offers a counterpoint: history as process rather than destiny. For readers who want to understand not just what Hindu identity is today but how it became what it is, Pillai’s book is indispensable.
And perhaps that is the real lesson. Identities, however loudly proclaimed as eternal, are always made. They are made in debate, in polemic, in encounter. They are made with gods, with guns, with missionaries — and with the countless ordinary people who, even if less visible in the archives, lived those identities day by day.
There are few contemporary Indian historians who have managed to walk the fine line between scholarly rigour and narrative readability as deftly as Manu S. Pillai. Ever since his breakout work The Ivory Throne (2015), a deeply textured account of Kerala’s Travancore monarchy and the eccentric yet remarkable Sethu Lakshmi Bayi, Pillai has acquired a reputation as a storyteller who neither abandons complexity nor drowns the general reader in dry archival trivia. His subsequent works — Rebel Sultans (2018), which explored the turbulent history of the Deccan, and False Allies (2021), which re-examined India’s princely states in the run-up to independence — all carried this same balance: lush in anecdote, careful in research, quietly polemical without being polemical.
With Gods, Guns and Missionaries: The Making of the Modern Hindu Identity, Pillai has written his most ambitious book yet. It is a vast chronicle, stretching across four centuries, seeking to map how “Hindu identity” — a term often wielded with an air of timelessness in contemporary political rhetoric — actually took shape in conversation with missionaries, colonisers, polemicists, and reformers. It is not, crucially, a book about Hindutva per se, nor a political history of the Hindu Right. It is instead an anatomy of something broader and subtler: the processes by which diverse traditions, rituals, theological debates, and cultural anxieties coalesced into what could be called a “modern Hindu identity.”
Pillai is not the first to make this point. Historians from Wilhelm Halbfass to Sheldon Pollock to Brian Hatcher have shown how 19th-century Hindu reform movements absorbed Protestant frameworks of textual primacy, or how colonial categorisation hardened fluid practices into rigid boundaries. But what distinguishes Pillai is the scope and granularity of his narrative. He is not writing a slender, thesis-driven academic monograph; he is writing a panoramic history, studded with colourful episodes, aimed at the thoughtful general reader. And in this sense, Gods, Guns and Missionaries resembles his earlier works while also expanding their ambition: where The Ivory Throne focused on one kingdom and its fraught matrilineal politics, here he attempts nothing less than the longue durée of Hindu identity itself.
One of the central arguments of the book is deceptively simple: Hindu identity was not a fixed, timeless essence but something shaped over centuries of contest, encounter, and adaptation. In the early modern period, rulers, poets, and communities engaged in complex interactions with Muslim polities, producing forms of syncretism and shared practice. With the arrival of European missionaries, particularly Jesuits in the 16th century and Protestants later, another layer of pressure was added. Missionary critiques of “idolatry,” “superstition,” and “licentiousness” forced Hindu elites to respond — sometimes defensively, sometimes by reformulating their own traditions in terms that borrowed from their critics.
This is where Pillai’s history becomes illuminating for our present. The very categories that continue to structure debates today — the notion of “superstition” versus “rational religion,” the obsession with textual authority, the emphasis on purification and reform — were, in many ways, products of this long history of polemic and counter-polemic. A Hindu reformer in the 19th century could argue that idol worship was a symbolic act rather than literal superstition, but the fact that he had to frame the argument in this binary was itself a result of missionary critique.
In this respect, Pillai’s book sits in dialogue with Swapan Dasgupta’s Awakening Bharat Mata (2019), which anthologises writings from the 19th and 20th centuries to trace the genealogy of Hindu nationalism. Where Dasgupta presents these voices often as precursors to a civilisational nationalism, Pillai situates them in a more ambivalent, contested process. Dasgupta’s anthology has the mood of inevitability: that the rise of Hindu nationalism was a natural culmination of historical stirrings. Pillai resists this teleology. His story is one of plurality, adaptation, and improvisation, where identity was forged not in linear progression but through fragmented encounters and borrowed idioms.
What makes Gods, Guns and Missionaries engaging is not just its thesis but its texture. Like his previous works, Pillai delights in anecdote. He recounts the tale of a Maharaja of Jaipur who once sent an idol to Britain for consecration — an act that in hindsight looks blasphemous to purists but reveals the creative ways rulers negotiated with colonial modernity. He introduces polemicists who defended rituals with ferocity and reformers who sought to rationalise or sanitise practices. By layering these stories, Pillai prevents the history from ossifying into abstraction.
This method was already visible in Rebel Sultans, where the Deccan’s political turbulence was rendered vivid through the lives of rulers, poets, and mercenaries. In False Allies, he showed how Indian princes were far from mere decadent puppets, but often active, modernising agents. In Gods, Guns and Missionaries, the dramatis personae are broader: from Jesuit missionaries to Orientalist scholars, from Hindu reformers like Rammohan Roy to lesser-known regional actors. It is, if anything, more demanding on the reader’s attention, but it is also rewarding: identity emerges not as a schematic but as a lived experience of countless agents.
Several things stand out as real achievements. First, the sheer scope. To tell a story across 400 years and multiple regions of India without collapsing into vagueness is no small feat. Pillai manages to retain specificity even while sweeping widely. Second, his refusal of simplistic binaries. It is tempting, especially in contemporary discourse, to present Hinduism as either eternally tolerant and plural or as eternally hierarchical and oppressive. Pillai avoids both caricatures. He shows that Hindu identity was neither monolithic nor wholly fragmented, but something that cohered under pressure and yet always retained internal diversity.
Third, the clarity of prose. Pillai has the gift, rare among historians, of writing sentences that are elegant without being ornate. Even when discussing complex intellectual debates — say, the Protestant critique of ritual or the Hindu counter-defence of murti worship — he renders them accessible. This has been his consistent strength: whether in the dense political intrigues of Travancore in The Ivory Throne or the sprawling princely histories of False Allies, Pillai writes history as narrative, not as jargon.
That said, the book is not without its limitations. For one, the narrative remains, to a significant extent, elite-driven. The protagonists are often rulers, reformers, or missionaries, whose voices survive in archives. The lived practices of peasants, lower castes, or women appear less frequently, except when mediated by elite reformist or missionary texts. This is, to some degree, an inevitable limitation of sources, but it does risk giving the impression that “Hindu identity” was primarily a debate among elites, later transmitted downwards.
Second, while Pillai is attentive to plurality, he sometimes underplays the violence of homogenisation. The absorption of missionary critiques may have sharpened Hindu defences, but it also marginalised folk traditions, heterodox sects, and non-Brahminical practices. The risk here is that “modern Hindu identity” becomes largely a story of Sanskritic and reformist consolidation, with subaltern experiences left somewhat in the background.
Third, the book’s endpoint feels abrupt. By the mid-20th century, one wants to see how these long histories fed directly into post-Independence politics, into the rise of Hindutva as a mass movement. Pillai gestures toward it but does not develop it. In a way, the reader is left standing at the threshold of the contemporary moment without being walked through. This is a conscious choice — the book is about formation, not aftermath — but it does leave the story tantalisingly incomplete.
Despite these limitations, the significance of Gods, Guns and Missionaries is clear. In a moment when Hindu identity is hotly contested in political and cultural arenas, this book historicises the debate. It reminds us that what is often presented as “timeless” or “ancient” is, in fact, the product of centuries of change, argument, and adaptation.
In this sense, Pillai’s project is very different from the civilisational certitude of Awakening Bharat Mata. Where Dasgupta’s anthology is unabashedly ideological, celebrating the voices of Hindu nationalism as a patriotic awakening, Pillai’s work is diagnostic. He does not write to celebrate or condemn but to show. And in showing, he subtly destabilises the certitudes of contemporary polemics.
The comparison also highlights a broader trend in Indian historiography. On one hand, there are works that present Hindu identity as natural, organic, an eternal essence now reasserting itself. On the other, there are works that see it as wholly a colonial invention, a category imposed from outside. Pillai stakes out a middle ground: Hindu identity was neither wholly timeless nor wholly invented. It was a layered process, produced in dialogue with multiple forces, some internal, some external. This middle ground may frustrate polemicists who prefer clear answers, but it is historically honest.
For me, reading Gods, Guns and Missionaries felt like peeling back the sediment of centuries. The rituals and debates I grew up seeing — arguments about “real Hinduism,” anxieties about superstition versus science, claims about tolerance and purity — suddenly acquired historical depth. They were no longer merely features of contemporary politics but echoes of older arguments, refracted through missionary critique, colonial power, and reformist anxiety.
I also found myself thinking back to Pillai’s False Allies. That book sought to dismantle the stereotype of princely states as decadent relics, showing instead how they were modernising actors. Gods, Guns and Missionaries performs a similar function for Hindu identity. It dismantles the caricature of Hinduism as either static or wholly invented, showing instead a tradition that was dynamic, self-critical, and responsive, often in unexpected ways.
At times, I wished Pillai had pushed harder into the contemporary: how do these long histories shape Hindutva’s current dominance, or the rhetoric of “civilisational clash” that saturates today’s media? But perhaps restraint is also a virtue. By stopping short, Pillai allows readers to make the connections themselves. He gives us the genealogy, not the editorial.
In the end, Gods, Guns and Missionaries is a major work of Indian history writing. It is ambitious, meticulously researched, and elegantly written. It refuses simplifications and instead offers a layered account of how modern Hindu identity emerged through centuries of encounter, conflict, and adaptation. Its limitations — its elite focus, its underplayed subaltern voices, its reticence on the contemporary — do not diminish its achievement.
Compared with Pillai’s earlier works, this book is broader, more ambitious, less intimate perhaps, but more consequential. Compared with ideological texts like Awakening Bharat Mata, it offers a counterpoint: history as process rather than destiny. For readers who want to understand not just what Hindu identity is today but how it became what it is, Pillai’s book is indispensable.
And perhaps that is the real lesson. Identities, however loudly proclaimed as eternal, are always made. They are made in debate, in polemic, in encounter. They are made with gods, with guns, with missionaries — and with the countless ordinary people who, even if less visible in the archives, lived those identities day by day.
June 26, 2025
4.5 :)
March 31, 2025
A thrilling journey from the era of colonialism to India's independence, exploring the evolution of religion and the discourse surrounding it. Meticulously researched and backed by extensive references—of the book's 564 pages, a remarkable 224 are dedicated to notes and citations—Manu Pillai once again delivers a highly readable yet academically rigorous work.
September 3, 2025
This is a meticulous and confident history of Hinduism’s complex relationship with colonialism. Whatever your feelings on the amplification of Hindu nationalism in recent years, this book is sure to teach you things you didn’t know about India’s dominant religion. Manu S. Pillai proves to be a much-needed voice of objectivity on this subject. It is a pity his book more or less ends with the departure of the British because I’d love to hear his take on religion in independent India. Maybe a sequel titled Trolls, Thugs and Appeasers?
June 17, 2025
This book offers a compelling meditation on the nature of Indian civilization — a civilization built not on rigid boundaries but on stories. Whenever India encountered something unfamiliar, it absorbed it, adapted it, and told more stories. That, in many ways, is the central idea of this work: India resists singular narratives. It is filled with paradoxes, and its richness lies precisely in its refusal to be reduced to one version of the truth.
One of the major tensions the book addresses is the question of caste. While many ideas have historically been accepted within the broader Hindu fold, they were often filtered through the lens of Brahminical supremacy. The result was not erasure but stratification. The codification of Hinduism during the Gupta dynasty exemplifies how power shaped religious identity, setting in motion a hierarchy that continues to leave its mark.
The sacred geography of India is also shaped by myth. Take Rameswaram — a place where, legend says, Rama came to absolve himself after killing Ravana by offering prayers to Shiva. This mythological act became a foundation for centuries of worship and pilgrimage, and the book illustrates how geography, faith, and politics are constantly intertwined. The rivalry between sects — Shaivism, Vaishnavism, and others — is not framed as contradiction but as coexistence. Even historical figures like Shivaji and Tipu Sultan demonstrated flexibility in religious policies, adapting to the needs and sentiments of their regions. In this view, India has always been too complex to allow for sweeping generalizations.
Some of the book’s most fascinating insights come from its exploration of identity. The example of Nasranis in Kerala — people who were Hindu in culture, Christian in religion, and Oriental in worship — shows how porous religious boundaries could be. Ancient Tamil texts like the Tolkappiyam debated these complexities just as vigorously as Western philosophers debated Aristotle. This long tradition of questioning is seen not as a weakness, but as a strength.
The book also highlights the profound diversity at the heart of Hinduism. There is no one god, no single scripture, no singular way. The sheer breadth of religious texts — 4 Vedas, 6 Shastras, 18 Puranas, and 28 Agamas — speaks to a decentralized spiritual structure. Ironically, it was the Puranas, often dismissed today for their fantastical stories and carnal gods, that represented the beliefs of the wider public. The Vedas, meanwhile, remained the preserve of a privileged few.
One of the book’s strongest arguments is that a uniform Hindu law is not only impossible — it never existed. Local context has always held more power than universal commandments. Hinduism’s flexibility lies in its rootedness, not in abstraction.
Among the many historical figures mentioned, I was especially drawn to Raja Serfoji Bhonsle II of Thanjavur. The Saraswati Mahal, which he built, still stands as a testament to his brilliance — a scholar, poet, prince, and enlightened mind. The book also covers the colonial period thoughtfully — from the burden of British imperialism to the complex legacies of figures like Raja Rammohan Roy and Bal Gangadhar Tilak. Even someone like Savarkar is portrayed in all his complexity, resisting simple judgments.
Ultimately, the book’s greatest strength is its refusal to flatten Indian history into a clean, digestible arc. Hindu identity, it argues, cannot be boxed into one narrative — and perhaps that is its deepest strength.
That said, the book is not without flaws. At times, it felt scattered or overly ambitious. But its deep engagement with history, and its reliance on references rather than rhetoric, makes it an important read — especially in a time when historical discussion is often reduced to loud opinions and selective memory.
One of the major tensions the book addresses is the question of caste. While many ideas have historically been accepted within the broader Hindu fold, they were often filtered through the lens of Brahminical supremacy. The result was not erasure but stratification. The codification of Hinduism during the Gupta dynasty exemplifies how power shaped religious identity, setting in motion a hierarchy that continues to leave its mark.
The sacred geography of India is also shaped by myth. Take Rameswaram — a place where, legend says, Rama came to absolve himself after killing Ravana by offering prayers to Shiva. This mythological act became a foundation for centuries of worship and pilgrimage, and the book illustrates how geography, faith, and politics are constantly intertwined. The rivalry between sects — Shaivism, Vaishnavism, and others — is not framed as contradiction but as coexistence. Even historical figures like Shivaji and Tipu Sultan demonstrated flexibility in religious policies, adapting to the needs and sentiments of their regions. In this view, India has always been too complex to allow for sweeping generalizations.
Some of the book’s most fascinating insights come from its exploration of identity. The example of Nasranis in Kerala — people who were Hindu in culture, Christian in religion, and Oriental in worship — shows how porous religious boundaries could be. Ancient Tamil texts like the Tolkappiyam debated these complexities just as vigorously as Western philosophers debated Aristotle. This long tradition of questioning is seen not as a weakness, but as a strength.
The book also highlights the profound diversity at the heart of Hinduism. There is no one god, no single scripture, no singular way. The sheer breadth of religious texts — 4 Vedas, 6 Shastras, 18 Puranas, and 28 Agamas — speaks to a decentralized spiritual structure. Ironically, it was the Puranas, often dismissed today for their fantastical stories and carnal gods, that represented the beliefs of the wider public. The Vedas, meanwhile, remained the preserve of a privileged few.
One of the book’s strongest arguments is that a uniform Hindu law is not only impossible — it never existed. Local context has always held more power than universal commandments. Hinduism’s flexibility lies in its rootedness, not in abstraction.
Among the many historical figures mentioned, I was especially drawn to Raja Serfoji Bhonsle II of Thanjavur. The Saraswati Mahal, which he built, still stands as a testament to his brilliance — a scholar, poet, prince, and enlightened mind. The book also covers the colonial period thoughtfully — from the burden of British imperialism to the complex legacies of figures like Raja Rammohan Roy and Bal Gangadhar Tilak. Even someone like Savarkar is portrayed in all his complexity, resisting simple judgments.
Ultimately, the book’s greatest strength is its refusal to flatten Indian history into a clean, digestible arc. Hindu identity, it argues, cannot be boxed into one narrative — and perhaps that is its deepest strength.
That said, the book is not without flaws. At times, it felt scattered or overly ambitious. But its deep engagement with history, and its reliance on references rather than rhetoric, makes it an important read — especially in a time when historical discussion is often reduced to loud opinions and selective memory.
October 7, 2025
There is a modicum of anti-colonial bias, and in the early sections, for all the author’s good historiography, it leads to a curious lack of context. For both European history and the deeper researches into Vedic India, some claims feel dated even for the standards of the 1990s in a book written for 2024- one finds him calling things 'Puranic' or 'local divinities' which can, with little trouble, be traced back to the Rigveda and the common Indo-Iranian milieu, though those errors do not make the book necessarily problematic.
The lack of Western Context was jarring, but this issue does not last long. As the author moves deeper into the genesis of modern India itself, the work detaches from the Europeans that forged Indian ideas even as they did, so long as focus is solely on India the lacking European context is less jarring. His takes on Christianity, however, do not possess the same nuance as his takes on Hinduism and to Christian West the history is often reduced to a crude tool for narrative and rhetoric, peppered with feigned ironies that are laughable at sight.
Yet, as the lack of context from the other side becomes less of an issue, I confess I am being picky. For those without the context, this book will hardly be an impediment for they will loose little and gain much more, and those who do have it will only benefit from the larger picture.
Still, despite improvements as the book progresses, I think the author simplifies the role of the Brahmins throughout (though it remains the one of the most balanced view of Brahminism I have seen in a while). While the author points to caste inequalities, he does so without villainizing Brahmins. However simplistic it may be, he does reach for nuance (such as the inequality between Chitpawan and Deshastha, which is fine), but merely citing social and economic inequality as the primary if not only "nuance" leaves me shuddering. It is to explain a cathedral by the price of its stone, but such is modern Historiography, since Marx even reganite capitalists bow to the principles of socio-economics, though any nuance is appreciated and class nuance does not lower the book at all.
I commented on that, since I see a dearth of nuance in his framing of ritualism, diversity of thought, and Brahmin opposition to reforms: by separating local gods from Vedic gods, is problematic on both sides of the quarrel. It is especially so since the revulsion in the English era is a fundamentally different creature from previous Brahmanical criticisms of 'lesser Hinduisms'. The former comes from educated, Anglicised Indians who happened to be Brahmins by their historic profession (with exceptions such as the Kayasthas and Khatris, who were also poised to take up Anglo-education). The continuity expressed is fundamentally wrong, a fact which becomes plain when we note the arguments raging within their own circles in all three Presidencies, this is forced addition of Native Agency while appreciated in Modern Academia (the irony of deconstruction!) I must confess there's no such continuity of agency, it was merely reforged in English image, even for the most conscious colonized, was still colonized, in that light Brahmins do not have any more agency than other Indians, as is true for likes of Phule, who are also upheld on same grounds as brahmins (despite their opposition, the delusion of hindu agency is applied to both, remains same epistemic error).
The lack of Western Context was jarring, but this issue does not last long. As the author moves deeper into the genesis of modern India itself, the work detaches from the Europeans that forged Indian ideas even as they did, so long as focus is solely on India the lacking European context is less jarring. His takes on Christianity, however, do not possess the same nuance as his takes on Hinduism and to Christian West the history is often reduced to a crude tool for narrative and rhetoric, peppered with feigned ironies that are laughable at sight.
Yet, as the lack of context from the other side becomes less of an issue, I confess I am being picky. For those without the context, this book will hardly be an impediment for they will loose little and gain much more, and those who do have it will only benefit from the larger picture.
Still, despite improvements as the book progresses, I think the author simplifies the role of the Brahmins throughout (though it remains the one of the most balanced view of Brahminism I have seen in a while). While the author points to caste inequalities, he does so without villainizing Brahmins. However simplistic it may be, he does reach for nuance (such as the inequality between Chitpawan and Deshastha, which is fine), but merely citing social and economic inequality as the primary if not only "nuance" leaves me shuddering. It is to explain a cathedral by the price of its stone, but such is modern Historiography, since Marx even reganite capitalists bow to the principles of socio-economics, though any nuance is appreciated and class nuance does not lower the book at all.
I commented on that, since I see a dearth of nuance in his framing of ritualism, diversity of thought, and Brahmin opposition to reforms: by separating local gods from Vedic gods, is problematic on both sides of the quarrel. It is especially so since the revulsion in the English era is a fundamentally different creature from previous Brahmanical criticisms of 'lesser Hinduisms'. The former comes from educated, Anglicised Indians who happened to be Brahmins by their historic profession (with exceptions such as the Kayasthas and Khatris, who were also poised to take up Anglo-education). The continuity expressed is fundamentally wrong, a fact which becomes plain when we note the arguments raging within their own circles in all three Presidencies, this is forced addition of Native Agency while appreciated in Modern Academia (the irony of deconstruction!) I must confess there's no such continuity of agency, it was merely reforged in English image, even for the most conscious colonized, was still colonized, in that light Brahmins do not have any more agency than other Indians, as is true for likes of Phule, who are also upheld on same grounds as brahmins (despite their opposition, the delusion of hindu agency is applied to both, remains same epistemic error).
February 18, 2025
The book covers how the Hindu identity structured itself since the first contact with the Europeans in the Sixteen Century. It is a fascinating subject and Pillai is a master at weaving disparate threads together.
The book starts off with a rather long (45+ pages) and rambling introduction that lays down the post-Puranic forms of Hinduism, the Bhakti movement, early reformers like Basava, etc. The author warns that the book doesn't offer a view only into the happy, syncretic aspects of Hinduism. He claims the book is "an investigation into human action and reaction", which sets the tone for the rest of the book.
The book describes the early Jesuit missionaries that landed in coastal India and were quick to dismiss the various gods, idols, and temples as Satan's handiwork. The reports they sent back to their base in Europe were fantastically untrue - partly because of their ignorance and perhaps partly because they wanted to raise more funds by sensationalizing the state of the local heathens, as they had to do more work to civilize them and bring them to god. The early forced conversion of "native heathens" soon followed as the European powers (particularly Portuguese) gained more power in the subcontinent. Roberto di Nobili, the "Italian Brahmin", makes an appearance here as well.
The Protestant missionaries followed the Catholics as the Protestant Reformation changed the religious landscape of Europe. Indian spiritual texts were rediscovered, translated, and sent back to Europe. There were even some spurious ones in circulation too, fooling even the likes of Voltaire!
The next chapter covers the British presence in India. In about a century after winning the Battle of Plassey, India had become a British colony. The trouble was that the Western governors expected a common rulebook that could be applied but in India, there was no such centralized "Hindu Law". The laws changed from region to region and were almost always subjective. Just like the Westerners sought an authoritative Hindu scripture, equivalent to the Bible, from where everything about the religion takes root, they expected an authoritative legal code too. As the British conquered more and more territories, this basic (Western) requirement of goverance became a challenge. By the early 1800s, the British "Hindu Law" had become a mess. The book talks about various local rulers and how they adjusted to these aliens laws the British had designed.
The last two chapters are profiles on the reformers, like Raja Ram Mohan Roy, Dayanand Saraswati, and Jotiba Phule; and revolutionaries like Tilak and Savarkar.
Overall, the book is fantastic. However, I feel that Pillai's books are getting increasing harder to read. For one, the author uses quotes within his sentences very often, which I find jarring at times because it breaks the flow of the reading. Plus, on an average, every page has 7-10 footnotes (40% of the pages are dedicated to the footnotes). Except the footnotes are at the end of the book and it is a frigging pain to switch to the footnotes while reading a hardback this size. Perhaps I should try reading the Kindle version next time.
In essence, it is a deeply fascinating topic, dealt with nuance and depth by the author - I would absolutely recommend it to anyone interested in colonial Indian History or Hindu identity. But it isn't a breezy read.
The book starts off with a rather long (45+ pages) and rambling introduction that lays down the post-Puranic forms of Hinduism, the Bhakti movement, early reformers like Basava, etc. The author warns that the book doesn't offer a view only into the happy, syncretic aspects of Hinduism. He claims the book is "an investigation into human action and reaction", which sets the tone for the rest of the book.
The book describes the early Jesuit missionaries that landed in coastal India and were quick to dismiss the various gods, idols, and temples as Satan's handiwork. The reports they sent back to their base in Europe were fantastically untrue - partly because of their ignorance and perhaps partly because they wanted to raise more funds by sensationalizing the state of the local heathens, as they had to do more work to civilize them and bring them to god. The early forced conversion of "native heathens" soon followed as the European powers (particularly Portuguese) gained more power in the subcontinent. Roberto di Nobili, the "Italian Brahmin", makes an appearance here as well.
The Protestant missionaries followed the Catholics as the Protestant Reformation changed the religious landscape of Europe. Indian spiritual texts were rediscovered, translated, and sent back to Europe. There were even some spurious ones in circulation too, fooling even the likes of Voltaire!
The next chapter covers the British presence in India. In about a century after winning the Battle of Plassey, India had become a British colony. The trouble was that the Western governors expected a common rulebook that could be applied but in India, there was no such centralized "Hindu Law". The laws changed from region to region and were almost always subjective. Just like the Westerners sought an authoritative Hindu scripture, equivalent to the Bible, from where everything about the religion takes root, they expected an authoritative legal code too. As the British conquered more and more territories, this basic (Western) requirement of goverance became a challenge. By the early 1800s, the British "Hindu Law" had become a mess. The book talks about various local rulers and how they adjusted to these aliens laws the British had designed.
The last two chapters are profiles on the reformers, like Raja Ram Mohan Roy, Dayanand Saraswati, and Jotiba Phule; and revolutionaries like Tilak and Savarkar.
Overall, the book is fantastic. However, I feel that Pillai's books are getting increasing harder to read. For one, the author uses quotes within his sentences very often, which I find jarring at times because it breaks the flow of the reading. Plus, on an average, every page has 7-10 footnotes (40% of the pages are dedicated to the footnotes). Except the footnotes are at the end of the book and it is a frigging pain to switch to the footnotes while reading a hardback this size. Perhaps I should try reading the Kindle version next time.
In essence, it is a deeply fascinating topic, dealt with nuance and depth by the author - I would absolutely recommend it to anyone interested in colonial Indian History or Hindu identity. But it isn't a breezy read.
December 3, 2024
Highly interesting and equally readable work, chronicling how answers to “Who’s a Hindu?” and “What is Hinduism?” developed over the past couple of centuries. Manu S. Pillai mentions that the research and thoughts over this history has been a decade and more in the working, and that is reflected on the pages as well.
We see how colonialism and Christian evangelism both led to and facilitated Hindu reformers and evangelists, how anti-caste reformers benefited from British rule, how definitions of Hindu excluded people depending on the definers (and how said definers would later incorporate these same people for more practical concerns!), why people wanted to define what Hinduism is, and, most importantly, how various personalities tried to bring the highly varied worshippers and the “amorphous” structure of Hinduism under an umbrella. This and a lot more is neatly covered through a host of interesting people and beliefs, starting from the early period of European exploration (and the following colonisation) of India.
A big win here is the comprehensiveness (in number and geographical breadth) in the examples that Pillai uses to underline various points — this is done while ensuring that the writing keeps a good pace and isn’t bogged down in detail. I felt that religious concepts and specifics were handled at an adequate level for the average reader (this could of course be different for someone unfamiliar with the basics of Hinduism), which isn’t necessarily the case when theology is explored.
Two other wins are the very detailed footnotes and the beautiful cover with laminated gems on the artwork.
My only negative is the shift that is felt when reading the post-1857 developments. It gave an impression of us speeding too fast through the happenings, with more importance given to select individuals. It didn’t affect me so much since I was more interested in the earlier parts anyways, since those were the sections novel to me.
Relative to The Iron Throne [TIT], the author’s other works have been lacking to me until now — a thesis, if there was one, came off as being retroactively applied to indicate a theme (a loose justification for why the collection of histories are, well, a collection in the first place). GG&M is fundamentally unlike those books as it’s a single narrative throughout the pages, and the overarching claims are convincingly taken to the reader (a non-historian reader that is :)). While TIT is a bigger achievement when it comes to historical research, GG&M is penned so well (with equally good editing) that I had a better experience reading it. So, I’d rate Gods, Guns and Missionaries my favourite Manu Pillai book till date (which is saying something!).
PS: Maybe it’s apparent to me because I read False Allies right before this, but Pillai uses a noticeable amount of “Why, …” interjections :)
We see how colonialism and Christian evangelism both led to and facilitated Hindu reformers and evangelists, how anti-caste reformers benefited from British rule, how definitions of Hindu excluded people depending on the definers (and how said definers would later incorporate these same people for more practical concerns!), why people wanted to define what Hinduism is, and, most importantly, how various personalities tried to bring the highly varied worshippers and the “amorphous” structure of Hinduism under an umbrella. This and a lot more is neatly covered through a host of interesting people and beliefs, starting from the early period of European exploration (and the following colonisation) of India.
A big win here is the comprehensiveness (in number and geographical breadth) in the examples that Pillai uses to underline various points — this is done while ensuring that the writing keeps a good pace and isn’t bogged down in detail. I felt that religious concepts and specifics were handled at an adequate level for the average reader (this could of course be different for someone unfamiliar with the basics of Hinduism), which isn’t necessarily the case when theology is explored.
Two other wins are the very detailed footnotes and the beautiful cover with laminated gems on the artwork.
My only negative is the shift that is felt when reading the post-1857 developments. It gave an impression of us speeding too fast through the happenings, with more importance given to select individuals. It didn’t affect me so much since I was more interested in the earlier parts anyways, since those were the sections novel to me.
Relative to The Iron Throne [TIT], the author’s other works have been lacking to me until now — a thesis, if there was one, came off as being retroactively applied to indicate a theme (a loose justification for why the collection of histories are, well, a collection in the first place). GG&M is fundamentally unlike those books as it’s a single narrative throughout the pages, and the overarching claims are convincingly taken to the reader (a non-historian reader that is :)). While TIT is a bigger achievement when it comes to historical research, GG&M is penned so well (with equally good editing) that I had a better experience reading it. So, I’d rate Gods, Guns and Missionaries my favourite Manu Pillai book till date (which is saying something!).
PS: Maybe it’s apparent to me because I read False Allies right before this, but Pillai uses a noticeable amount of “Why, …” interjections :)
June 17, 2025
Always liked Manu Pillai's writing - but this is one of his easiest reads - dividing the evolution of what modern Hinduism is now known (and still evolving) into 3 distinct phases as it came into contact with the White Man.
Each phase is delightfully peppered with wry-humorous observations / asides on how the "natives" deftly turned the tables on the "white masters" and defied their attempts to understand, denigrate, condescendingly "reform" across movements ; each movement by different leaders from the Hindu fold- some contradicting, in conflict with each other.
From Raja Ram Mohun Roy , Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Jyotiba Phule, Dayananda Saraswati ..and the most contested figure of them all - Vinayak Damodar Savarkar- a sketch of their efforts in constructing the Hindu identity (still many ! ) today is presented in 200 odd pages (the remaining pages are a TON of references - none of the inferences are without proof !).
As a historian - balancing becomes difficult- there are no heroes, no villains from the Indian side of the "Crusaders" - and it will be disappointing to the hard core fan bases of either of these luminaries ; but as a person who isn't - it is a view of a dispassionate observer. And here lies the genius of the book !
Among all his books - besides the slim "The Courtesan, the Mahatma and the Italian Brahmin" which put a menu of interesting "short" interesting stories across his other works, this is another I found most compelling. Perhaps because, as he says, it is a book that has been long in the making - a project from his student days and has the right amount of information -story telling.
Must read - by anyone intrigued by the title :) It will not disappoint and is worthy of a multiple-revisit (and hence a 5 star and on my book shelf!)
Each phase is delightfully peppered with wry-humorous observations / asides on how the "natives" deftly turned the tables on the "white masters" and defied their attempts to understand, denigrate, condescendingly "reform" across movements ; each movement by different leaders from the Hindu fold- some contradicting, in conflict with each other.
From Raja Ram Mohun Roy , Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Jyotiba Phule, Dayananda Saraswati ..and the most contested figure of them all - Vinayak Damodar Savarkar- a sketch of their efforts in constructing the Hindu identity (still many ! ) today is presented in 200 odd pages (the remaining pages are a TON of references - none of the inferences are without proof !).
As a historian - balancing becomes difficult- there are no heroes, no villains from the Indian side of the "Crusaders" - and it will be disappointing to the hard core fan bases of either of these luminaries ; but as a person who isn't - it is a view of a dispassionate observer. And here lies the genius of the book !
Among all his books - besides the slim "The Courtesan, the Mahatma and the Italian Brahmin" which put a menu of interesting "short" interesting stories across his other works, this is another I found most compelling. Perhaps because, as he says, it is a book that has been long in the making - a project from his student days and has the right amount of information -story telling.
Must read - by anyone intrigued by the title :) It will not disappoint and is worthy of a multiple-revisit (and hence a 5 star and on my book shelf!)
Read
July 23, 2025On 17 March this year, a riot broke out in Nagpur, central India, over a Bollywood film and a man who died more than three centuries ago. The line between Bollywood and Indian politics has often been thin. But under the rule of the Hindu-majoritarian Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) the silver screen has become a favourite outlet for the playing out of supposed historical grievances. Chhaava, a recent film casting the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb (1618-1707) in a particularly villainous light, prompted right-wing Hindu outlets to demand the removal of Aurangzeb’s grave – a demand then echoed by leading BJP politicians including the chief minister of Maharashtra. Nagpur, some 500 kilometres from the grave, began burning a few days afterwards.
To understand why history has become such a raw nerve in India, one has to understand the genesis of modern Hindu identity. Who is a Hindu? And, critically, who is not? For centuries Hindu traditions were remarkably flexible and malleable, an open door which accommodated new ideas, gods, traditions, and practices. ‘This closing of the door’ is the focus of Manu Pillai’s impressive book: how openness mutated into defensiveness. It is essential reading for anyone curious about the long roots of India’s current political dispensation.
Read the rest of the review at https://www.historytoday.com/archive/...
Dinyar Patel is Associate Professor of History at the S.P. Jain Institute of Management and Research in Mumbai.
To understand why history has become such a raw nerve in India, one has to understand the genesis of modern Hindu identity. Who is a Hindu? And, critically, who is not? For centuries Hindu traditions were remarkably flexible and malleable, an open door which accommodated new ideas, gods, traditions, and practices. ‘This closing of the door’ is the focus of Manu Pillai’s impressive book: how openness mutated into defensiveness. It is essential reading for anyone curious about the long roots of India’s current political dispensation.
Read the rest of the review at https://www.historytoday.com/archive/...
Dinyar Patel is Associate Professor of History at the S.P. Jain Institute of Management and Research in Mumbai.
August 14, 2025
A deep-dive into how the modern ‘Hindu’ identity has evolved from colonisation and foreign faiths, tracing in detail the Portuguese and later British Christian missionary work in India. Not about any religious beliefs, but rather the messy politics and power struggles behind it - in a delicious historical journey. We have to go back to the first Sultans, which was when people who were tied to beliefs connected to the land identified themselves as a separate entity from Arab-influenced cultures- i.e, as the Indus, or Hindustan.
Manu Pillai is a brilliant historian. I like how each of the historical events he gives are cited properly, offering credibility.
"Religious identity allows for networking of solidarity and social mobilization" ( from the epilogue). It's seeing the ‘ism’ of Hinduism came into being - I.e. from a series of personal beliefs along ‘common-sense’ to find your higher truth - to being inspired by Catholicism and later Protestantism into a series of rituals and scriptures, a monolith. We also saw how missionaries like Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg and Roberto De Nobili adapted Christianity to India, wearing saffron and hosting chariot festivals with Mary and Jesus, also writing a purana about Christian events in Tamil.
At the end, I remembered the quote, ‘religion is the opium of the masses”; there’s a reason why every ruler will want their subjects submissive and obedient - in my opinion, subservience adds no value to one’s personal life in any way whatsoever.
Manu Pillai is a brilliant historian. I like how each of the historical events he gives are cited properly, offering credibility.
"Religious identity allows for networking of solidarity and social mobilization" ( from the epilogue). It's seeing the ‘ism’ of Hinduism came into being - I.e. from a series of personal beliefs along ‘common-sense’ to find your higher truth - to being inspired by Catholicism and later Protestantism into a series of rituals and scriptures, a monolith. We also saw how missionaries like Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg and Roberto De Nobili adapted Christianity to India, wearing saffron and hosting chariot festivals with Mary and Jesus, also writing a purana about Christian events in Tamil.
At the end, I remembered the quote, ‘religion is the opium of the masses”; there’s a reason why every ruler will want their subjects submissive and obedient - in my opinion, subservience adds no value to one’s personal life in any way whatsoever.
November 16, 2025
‘Gods, Guns, and Missionaries’ is a deeply researched and engaging account of how Hinduism developed under colonial rule, or under the influence of colonialism. It is almost impossible for the lay reader to verify the sources he quotes, so we can assume they are accurate.
The book’s central thesis is consistent with that of most modern writers on the subject without providing anything new to the tale. He flirted with the idea that the word ‘Hindu’ came to denote the composite of the multiple beliefs that prevailed in India even during Muslim rule. Still, he then contradicted himself when he stated that the word ‘Hinduism’ became current during the British era.
The book spans four centuries, beginning with the early missionaries and their efforts to convert South Asians to Christianity. This movement gained momentum during the two-hundred-and-fifty-year British rule in India. He missed an opportunity to demonstrate how British attitudes changed after the 1857-58 Uprising. Still, he wrote about how Indians of the time began to define Hinduism in the context of colonial attitudes.
I also believe he missed an opportunity to contrast ‘Hinduism’ under Mughal rule with ‘Hinduism’ under colonial influences.
Finally, while he wrote scathingly about Savarkar, he did not explore the complexities of how Hinduism has evolved in modern times, nor how modern Indians often conflate Hinduism with Hindutva.
The book is enjoyable to read, but it does not offer any new insights and leaves many gaps in the narrative and analysis.
The book’s central thesis is consistent with that of most modern writers on the subject without providing anything new to the tale. He flirted with the idea that the word ‘Hindu’ came to denote the composite of the multiple beliefs that prevailed in India even during Muslim rule. Still, he then contradicted himself when he stated that the word ‘Hinduism’ became current during the British era.
The book spans four centuries, beginning with the early missionaries and their efforts to convert South Asians to Christianity. This movement gained momentum during the two-hundred-and-fifty-year British rule in India. He missed an opportunity to demonstrate how British attitudes changed after the 1857-58 Uprising. Still, he wrote about how Indians of the time began to define Hinduism in the context of colonial attitudes.
I also believe he missed an opportunity to contrast ‘Hinduism’ under Mughal rule with ‘Hinduism’ under colonial influences.
Finally, while he wrote scathingly about Savarkar, he did not explore the complexities of how Hinduism has evolved in modern times, nor how modern Indians often conflate Hinduism with Hindutva.
The book is enjoyable to read, but it does not offer any new insights and leaves many gaps in the narrative and analysis.
May 13, 2025
I loved this book. It beautifully explains how Hinduism evolved when invading forces like Islam and Christianity came into power in India. There was an exchange of ideas from the west which Hindu's took and reformed the Hindu society. There were many puranic traditions present in Hinduism and the British found it difficult to understand it so they implemented "Hindu Law". They went back to the roots of Hinduism, the Vedas and said that this is true hinduism and people should follow this. This act made the Brahmins superior since they understood the Vedas. This supremacy caused discrimination issues where the lower castes were not allowed in big positions in Govt. Later Hindu reformists learnt English and studied the world philosophy and then applied the same in their religion to fight caste based discrimination like Jyotiba Phule. Britishers thought that if they teach western ideas to native Indians they will then propagate their religion and native would accept it. But it didnt happen much. Natives took the western ideas and attached British Govt on the rights of Liberty and Democracy. Later, Hindu Nationalism went on the rise from the likes of Tilak and Savarkar. They suggested that India belongs to Hindus and others do not belong here.
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