A dazzling new history of the Indian subcontinent and its diverse peoples in global context—from antiquity to today
Much of world history is Indian history. Home today to one in four people, the subcontinent has long been densely populated and deeply connected to Asia, Africa, Europe, and the Americas through migration and trade. In this magisterial history, Audrey Truschke tells the fascinating story of the region historically known as India—which includes today’s India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and parts of Afghanistan—and the people who have lived there.
A sweeping account of five millennia, from the dawn of the Indus Valley Civilization to the twenty-first century, this engaging and richly textured narrative chronicles the most important political, social, religious, intellectual, and cultural events. And throughout, it describes how the region has been continuously reshaped by its astonishing diversity, religious and political innovations, and social stratification.
Here, readers will learn about Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Islam, and Sikhism; the Vedas and Mahabharata; Ashoka and the Mauryan Empire; the Silk Road; the Cholas; Indo-Persian rule; the Mughal Empire; European colonialism; national independence movements; the 1947 Partition of India; the recent rise of Hindu nationalism; the challenges of climate change; and much more. Emphasizing the diversity of human experiences on the subcontinent, the book presents a wide range of voices, including those of women, religious minorities, lower classes, and other marginalized groups.
You cannot understand India today without appreciating its deeply contested history, which continues to drive current events and controversies. A comprehensive and innovative book, India is essential reading for anyone who is interested in the past, present, or future of the subcontinent.
If you want to cover history of India from Indus Valley civilization to present day, it is a mammoth task indeed. Therefore I would give A+ for effort. Reading through 600 plus pages, it became clear to me that calling it 5,000 years of history is wrong. It is rather a work of narrative nonfiction as it omits key elements of history of Kushan, Gupta, Pandya, Rashtrakuta, Chalukya and most importantly Vijaynagar empires. Omission or scant coverage of the latter in particular disqualifies it a treatise of Indian history.
I read someplace that most important attribute of a good journalist is empathy, in addition to intellectual curiosity. I would think, it equally applies to scholars and academics of history and social sciences. Based on this narrative and her frequent postings on social media X (Twitter), it is clear to me that the author not just lacks empathy, but carries a latent bias towards that culture. If one does not appreciate or admire the object of one’s scholarship, why pursue that field at all.
At best, this is not a book on history, but a political and social commentary. At that it is generally accurate to the degree of the authors bias. To call it history would be perversion of meaning of the term.
If a reader wants to learn about India’s history, I would recommend books by Willam Dalrymple.
I would give it 4 because as a student of South Asian history, I didn't find anything new. It's a grand narrative and well written. An additional +1 star to Ms. Truschke for holding her ground and pushing back against the IT Cell trolls and other bigots who want to rewrite history.
Good read and an eye-opener. Some 500 odd pages, to fill approximately 5000+ years of history is not easy. But Audrey has managed to present substantial point for each major era. For a person born in India, and fed history that is usually muddled with patriotic jingoism, religious exuberance and most importantly "we found it first" attitude, there is a lot to learn or think in this book. First thing i realized a while back, about history books, is onion, or rather peeling of it! There are layers, muddled truth, lies, fictitious conclusions and whole lot of zealotry in history telling. It is important to read multiple versions. And from that perspective this was a good read. I had started Romila Thappar's book, but misplaced it on a flight. I will be starting it again soon.
I started listening to this book while travelling through India, and it was such a treat. Hearing the stories of who built these incredible monuments and why while actually standing in front of them made the experience even more special. Feeling deeply blessed and grateful to be connected to such a rich and layered history.
The book itself is a great overview of Indian history without getting bogged down in too many details. It’s very digestible, yet it sparks curiosity to dig deeper into different events and eras. A perfect starting point if you want to begin learning about India.
It’s heartbreaking to realize that ethnic cleansing has been a recurring part of our history and sadly, still is today.
Audrey Truschke’s book attempts what few have dared: to compress the sprawling, tangled forest of India’s 5,000-year history into a single, accessible volume. In doing so, it fills a much-needed gap on the bookshelf—a reliable reference that does not shy away from representing the entire subcontinent, including regions like the South and the Northeast, which too often vanish into the footnotes of other histories.
The book is anchored in rigorous scholarship, evident in its rich bibliography and meticulous references. One cannot help but admire the sheer depth of research that underpins its pages. It is a map drawn with care, offering readers a bird’s-eye view of millennia without losing sight of crucial details.
That said, the structure wavers in its later chapters, particularly from Chapter 19 onward. The crisp, neutral tone of a historian—so well maintained for most of the journey—begins to fray. Here, the narrative feels rushed, less polished, and occasionally colored by the author’s personal frustrations. One can sense the shadow of the fierce personal attacks Truschke has faced, seeping, however subtly, into her prose.
For a general reader, the book sometimes feels more like a scholarly archive than a flowing story. History, after all, is not just a ledger of facts—it is also a grand epic waiting to be told. A more narrative-driven style could have transformed this from a solid reference work into an immersive, unforgettable journey through time.
Still, despite these shortcomings, this book deserves a place on the shelf. Until a more seamless and engaging single-volume history of India emerges, India: 5000 Years of History on the Subcontinent remains a valuable compass for anyone seeking to navigate the vast oceans of the subcontinent’s past.
This book covers thousands of years of history with a particular focus on gender, class, and power. I enjoyed this book and thought it was provocative, though I would have liked more time spent on India and South Asia in the Cold War. I guess this is a relatively short amount of time (out of 5,000 years) though I think it does help to explain a lot in the present. Truschke is sharply critical of Hindutva and presents South Asia in a global context as a region with a diverse history involving Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Jains and other religious and ethnic groups who created a complex and multilayered society.
At first glance the book promises the grandest of tasks: “5,000 Years” of the Indian subcontinent, from the Indus Valley to the twenty-first century. That kind of sweep immediately demands reverence. But as one reads, the ambition begins to buckle under its own weight—not because the subject is too large (it always is), but because the architecture of the telling reveals repeated faults: selective emphasis, sleights of definition, and a narrative style that often privileges agenda over nuance.
The title itself—“5,000 Years”—is revealing. Truschke admits it was chosen for marketing convenience; it is a “round number.” That kind of start signals a certain lightness of foot with precision. If your temporal scope is approximate in the title, can we trust the tighter claims within?
In theory, the book aims to re-center Indian history away from colonial or nationalist teleologies. That is a commendable project. However, in execution it flips one grand narrative into another, replacing older myths with new ones: the story becomes not so much about continuity or synthesis, but domination by patterns of division, oppression and marginalisation.
Truschke foregrounds social hierarchies, caste, gender inequality, mobility, and the voices of religious minorities. That focus is legitimate, even vital. Yet the danger is that when every chapter emphasizes rupture rather than continuity, the cumulative effect is a vision of India as a series of failures and fractures rather than an evolving tradition of complexity.
We see this in her treatment of the early Vedic and Indus periods. Her emphasis on “earliest Indians were migrants” and connection to global trade networks is fine as far as it goes, but critics point out that she gives insufficient weight to opposing scholarship that argues continuity between the Indus Civilization and later Vedic culture.
In other words, the framing often accepts one scholarly consensus (migration, genetics, Steppe ancestry) as definitive, while treating dissenting views as peripheral or outdated. In a sweeping overview of this scale, that comes across not as bold reinterpretation but as insufficiently balanced interpretation.
Methodologically the book raises another problem: translation policy and editorial stance. Truschke openly states she practices “flexibility” in translation and declines to use honorifics for significant religious or cultural figures as a matter of “critical distance.”
To some scholars, this is uncomfortable not because it is inherently wrong to translate or to adopt critical stance—but because it suggests the translator is wearing ideological goggles. History is, after all, the construction of past meaning through sources. If the translator signals from the outset that he or she will peel off honorifics and re-frame traditions, then the reader should know that the author’s voice is more present than the past being narrated.
The narrative structure often privileges “diversity,” “marginalization,” and “rupture” as motifs—and explicitly so. Penguin’s blurbs boast that Truschke “emphasises the diversity of human experiences … women, religious minorities, lower classes, … other marginalised groups.”
That promise invites the reader into a different kind of sweeping history—one less about kings and chronicles and more about the social underside. This shift is not inherently faulty, but the book then too often treats social mobility, reform movements, regional traditions and cultural synthesis as footnotes while catastrophe, division and disruption become the foreground. The logic of emphasis becomes tired when continuity, agency, and resilience are continually backgrounded.
Take her treatment of medieval religion and imperial transitions. Truschke argues that Islamicate rule in India was less about forced conversion than cultural exchange. That claim itself is not wrong, but critics say her version minimises periods of iconoclasm, jizya, temple destruction, and coercion as less central than they surely were in certain regions.
When a historical narrative repeatedly downplays one kind of evidence because it would disturb a preferred theme, it moves from revisionist to selective. The result: a text, which feels less like a balanced synthesis and more like a corrective mission. History demands correction, yes—but when the correction becomes a new mainstream, the net change is just another orthodoxy.
Another structural strain: the final chapters feel rushed. From about Chapter 19 onwards the tone shifts, the narrative becomes less assured, and some major issues (Partition, independence, caste reforms post-1947) are treated with less granularity than earlier periods. When a book of 700+ pages spends two-thirds in precolonial periods and a few rushed chapters on modernity, one must question whether the promise of “from dawn to today” is met in balance or just breadth.
And yet the book is not without virtue. Its bibliographical apparatus is strong; Truschke brings together Sanskrit, Persian, Urdu and modern sources in a consolidated framework. Her ambition to include voices of women, Dalits, and subalterns is welcome. The text is readable, accessible, and often lively. However, accessible style is only part of history’s job; accuracy, nuance, and complexity matter just as much.
When we turn to epistemology, the book makes some implicit claims: for example, tradition is often less conservative in India than we assume; caste was less rigid; the idea of “Hinduism” as a unified religion is modern. These statements critique nationalist narratives—and critique is fine—but Truschke often replaces one blanket claim (“caste is rigid”) with another (“India is always hybrid, always migrating, always contesting”). The risk is that the reader internalises a reversed binary: “old narrative = myth of unity,” “new narrative = story of division.” That binary is too coarse for one of the richest civilisational strands on Earth.
The book’s rhetoric also leans to the dramatic. A history of India becomes a story that emphasises crisis: environmental disruption, patriarchy, caste oppression, Muslim rule, colonial trauma, Hindu nationalism and social media. One comes away with the sense that India has always been in crisis and is still trying to catch up. While there are threads of resilience in the text, the dominant tone is the persistent catching-up of “India” to something better. Grand narratives of decline replaced by grand narratives of redemption through critique.
And the rhythm becomes oppressive: so much critique, so many awakenings, so many social corrections. After a time the reader wonders: where is the pride of building, the legacy of knowledge, the civilisational high-points unshackled by critique? By foregrounding oppression and marginalisation, the book tends to marginalise majesty.
Another weakness: omission of key dynastic regimes. Some major empires—Vijayanagara, Rashtrakuta, Pandya, Chalukya—receive tepid coverage or are omitted altogether. For a “5,000 years” history of a subcontinent, the omission of such major chapters is not a footnote error—it raises the question of whether the claim was lived through in structure or just in headline.
Let’s also talk about sourcing and accuracy. Certain sections misdate texts, mislabel periods (“Rig Veda, ca. 1000 BCE” while calling it “late Vedic”) and treat contested theories (Aryan migration) as established fact while neglecting dissenting scholarship. Now, errors in footnotes or figure captions are expected in a 700-page text—but when multiple such errors accumulate in foundational chapters, they erode trust. That means the readers who emphasise nuance must ask: does the book handle complexity or stripe it with preselection?
Of course, some might respond: “All large surveys have trade-offs.” Yes. Nevertheless, the nature of those trade-offs matters. If the trade is “we skip half the dynasties” or “we privilege crisis narratives” or “we treat contested theories as settled,” then the trade becomes a selective lens more than an inclusive history.
What then is this book best read as? Perhaps as a compelling and controversial *social-history narrative* of modern Indian historiography, not as a definitive “history of India.” If the reader knows that Truschke brings a revisionist lens, focuses on social justice, and emphasises certain themes (diversity, migration, marginality, gender, caste) then the book offers insights—but the reader must also be aware of its omissions and interpretative slants.
For a teacher of English like you who thrives on books and writing, this text can serve as an excellent **counter-text**: read it to sharpen your questions. Where does she show region-specific scholarship? How does she treat Sanskrit, Persian or Tamil sources? When she asserts “India has always been connected to the world,” what primary evidence and alternates does she engage?
Ask: where are the narratives of continuity, empire building, philosophical flourishing, indigenous conceptual innovation? How many times does the book treat those as background rather than foreground?
Let us highlight three underlying tensions:
1. Ambition vs depth: The sweep of “5,000 years” demands selectiveness. But the pattern of what is selected suggests a theme more than a story: division, mobility, marginality. When that becomes the pattern, the result is less a narrative and more a thesis.
2. Revisionism vs balance: Revisionist history is essential. However, a revision without calibration becomes another narrative with its own bias. If you aim to challenge nationalist myths, you must also challenge reformist myths and recognise tradition’s agency, not just critique of power.
3. Accessibility vs scholarly rigour: Truschke writes for broad audiences, and that’s admirable. However, ease of reading should not replace precision of argument. When chapters read like social critique essays rather than careful historiography, the reader must ask what is simplified, what is overlooked.
In short, the book is vivid, enthusiastic, socially conscious and often engaging. But it is not the final word on Indian history. One finishing it might feel they have got “India,” but they will have got a version of India: a version prioritising certain themes, downplaying others, and structured by modern frameworks of justice rather than purely historical inquiry. For those who demand balance, nuance and multiple viewpoints, the book will feel like a strong beginning—but also like a grand narrative whose own mirrors call for careful checking.
If one were to score this text strictly, one might concede the following: impressive in ambition (A-), commendable in readability and concern (B+), but uneven in balance (C+) and problematic in structure (C).
In my role as teacher and lover of books, I actually shifted the grade: perhaps the text as a teaching tool (for critique) gets an close C, but as a foundational survey it falls short of D. What it offers is not the full tapestry but a vibrant section of thread. One can use it, but know that other threads—more royal courts, more dynasties, more philosophical triumphs—still await our curiosity.
In closing, the book is like a grand banquet where the appetizers are brilliantly served but the main course is rushed and the dessert cart never arrives. One leaves pleased, but hungry.
The headline promise “5,000 Years” sets the expectation of feast; the plate delivered is generous, but not quite complete.
And when one eats with eyes open, one sees not just what is served—but what was left off the tray.
There is much to be gained from our attempts to understand the other side of the world. Lay readers should appreciate all the academic work that has gone into the development of this history and the fact that it is available to them in this finished form for only a few dollars and the devotion of some reading time.
The problem with this book is synonymous with the essential problem of India itself which is the impossibility of consolidating too much diversity into a single nation. The broad diversification and expansive size of India have rendered it difficult to govern, subject to foreign intrusion, and culturally fragmented. These problems persist into modernity.
One unique thing I especially liked about Truschke’s history is the periodic insertion of portions of the actual historical documents she has studied. Truschke wants the reader to see and discern the history for themselves, as opposed to simply spoon feeding it. Although Truschke documents her work extensively, with copious notes and bibliography, she writes with a casualness that allows someone outside of academia to digest the text. Further, Truschke includes extensive mapping exhibits, pictures, and illustrations throughout this book, which are extremely helpful for those more inclined to graphical presentation.
Indian Religions
Reading this, I am struck by how primitive and coarse religions were in pre-modern India, as they seem prone to idolatry and fraught with sexual promiscuity. They also seem to blend easily into one another. Too little has been provided in Truschke’s work to authenticate any sort of deep spirituality within the Indian religions, although I know of it from other readings. The reader might hypothesize that it may be the author’s lack of deep spirituality that lends itself to an absence of deep spirituality within this text, but that is merely speculation.
Nevertheless, Indian history can’t be written without religious explanations, as Truschke well knows, and certainly early religious structure in India is not easy to understand. Truschke portrays it as an eclectic mix of Hindu, Buddhist, Jain and Muslim interactions, like a boiling cauldron of religious diversification. But Truschke seems rather shy to speak much about religion beyond what is historically necessary, and the reader gains a sense that she prefers framing her history within a more secular context.
I suppose it is natural for a westerner like me to sense deep idolatry when reading about Indian religions. But truly, all religions tend to be fraught with idolatry. There is an absence here of the more mystical contemplations of God that depart from idolatry, but this is not inconsistent with the sort of fundamentalism that seems to dominate most religions today.
What we see in Truschke’s portrayal of India is that humans, in seeking to find the infinite essence of God, tend to create god in the medium of their own finitude, most often in art. But art falls short of successfully defining the ineffable. It is somewhat frustrating to read about the twisting, turning, and stirring of diversified religions that occupy Indian history because of their blending and instability, much like how mixing a wide variety of paints leaves one with only black.
Because the incessant mixing of religions, cultures, and races will inevitably result in a generic population that is less conductive to creativity and diversity of thought, we must ask ourselves: Do we really want universal equality? Do we really want everyone on the same page? Do we really want to blend all our ethnicities into one generic blob? Healthy evolution necessitates diversity and we should encourage diversity instead of trying to press everyone into a single mold. Otherwise, we end up with only black.
I sense that the prominent idea of reincarnation in Indian culture works as a catalyst for sustaining its religious diversification because it incorporates evolving religious deities. Vishnu reincarnates as Krishna, Rama, and even Akbar, the Mughal ruler. This sort of interchange of deities in and out of human form is a unique way of personifying them and is not without similarities in other religions, which identify men with God or as God.
The cauldron of highly diversified religions that constitute India made me think of R. F. Kuang’s recent novel Katabasis wherein she challenges the specters of hell to define “the good”. Kuang recognizes that “the good” is not definable because it is infinitely rendered within varying and specific contexts. God is not definable no matter how many times we may seek to reincarnate Him within a newly evolved religious structure. Likewise, the perfect life of self-sacrifice is seemingly impossible for most of us; that is, to live for the benefit of others, to work to aid in the elimination of poverty, to participate in the rehabilitation of criminals, to love unconditionally, to resist pathological accumulation, gluttony, and substance abuse; to exist with the bare minimum in order to use those resources to help others in need, and to dedicate all life-effort to the good development of human society. Indeed, most westerners have very little concept of this degree of sacrifice, and certainly no concept of extreme religious asceticism.
Nonviolence
I found it interesting to learn that nonviolence was not the brainchild of Mohandus Ghandi but preexisted within early Indian prehistory for hundreds of years. Perhaps nonviolence is the greatest gift to the world from the Indian continent, and it is too rarely recognized within the essential message of Christ in the West.
Religious violence occurs because of dogma, mythology, and rituals; and mass attempts to make these static. In his rebuke of the religious leaders of his time, Jesus stood against such attempts to solidify God within a cage of human construction. God is dynamic and capable of meeting humans within an infinite variety of contexts.
Religion must be individual and is only authenticated within an individual’s conscience. We err to attempt overriding that conscience with indoctrination. Religion can be communal without being coercive and it is in this way that “the good” is freed from dogma so that it may manifest most powerfully in the varied contexts of human circumstances.
Many in academia seem to think the dismissal of religions altogether is the way to world peace, but this is a not true and will only lead to greater conflagrations. Instead, religions must come to recognize that monotheism means there is one God, not that there is only one path to God. God is not incapable of an infinite variety of manifestations.
The Socially Disadvantaged
Throughout the book, Truschke periodically alludes to the problems of minorities, and she is particularly sensitive of female disadvantages. No one can dispute the fact that white, male people have historically exerted social and political dominance in the world. And yet, the disadvantaged are always present, whether they be women, people of color, immigrant minorities, smaller people, or even just uglier people. Human nature bears an essentially selfish element that often prioritizes self-aggrandizement or clique-driven separatism, and this lends itself to segregation.
Truschke exerts a gallant effort to include women in her history even through the obvious paucity of ample historical documentation evidencing same. One can’t help but wonder where humanity would be today if it operated with a level playing field such that the most capable always had an avenue forward. The tendency to elevate based upon special favors, nepotism, caste, or gender had obviously foiled many opportunities for the advancement of humanity. Diversification gives us a greater range of insight that we can only utilize by listening to all sides. Perhaps that is one particular lesson we can gain in accepting God in all It’s colorful manifestations.
Conclusion
Thanks to Truschke’s work, today, as I adapt the namaste gesture within my fitness and yoga training, I can remember that it dates back more than 4,000 years to the early Indus civilization. Similarly, many other aspects of her history manifest relevance in modernity.
Looking at history is like looking at yourself. This is true not only for personal history, but also for world history, which is a window into the essence of the human species: What have we stood for? What have we accomplished? What have we held on high?
Certainly, there is no better way to gain perspective then to become cognizant of where we are in history. We owe it to ourselves to enhance our perspective beyond the blindness and ignorance of everyday routine by examining history. A whole new world of conscious awareness opens when we arrest our everyday routines to ask who, what, and why have we existed.
I picked up this book wanting a sweeping history of India, and it largely delivered. Written in an accessible style, it presents a broad overview of the subcontinent’s past with a focus on specific stories and overlooked voices rather than grand theories or trends. The author challenges conventional narratives by emphasizing the experiences of South Asians themselves, which gives the book a fresh and relatable perspective.
That said, the book isn’t fully balanced. In covering neglected histories, parts of India’s political past have been trimmed, and important questions — such as how a large portion of the subcontinent became Muslim or why Buddhism declined — remain insufficiently explored. Again, the complexity of Muslims’ attitudes towards Partition could have been better understood with a discussion on the Deoband School. Still, the notes on Ambedkar and caste complexities stood out as a thoughtful exploration of emotionally charged historical issues. I found myself agreeing with much of the analysis, as these complexities are central to understanding the region’s past.
There may be occasional factual oversights, such as the typo on page 335, where Sirajuddaulah’s attack on Fort William is dated 1856 instead of 1756. However, such errors are likely few and don’t undermine the book’s value.
This book is approachable and suited for general readers. While the language is easy to follow, certain themes are underrepresented. The central takeaway is that India’s history isn’t a single story but a tapestry of many interwoven narratives. Overall, Truschke has done a good job making complex histories accessible, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in learning more about India’s past — its diversity, struggles, and resilience.
A Clear, Evidence-Based Narrative in a Time of Revisionism
I approached India: A 5,000-Year History as someone largely unfamiliar with the earliest periods of the subcontinent. My own interest in Sub-Continent history has always centered on the Muslim dynasties, Sultanates, and Muslim regional principalities—their politics, cultural worlds, and social issues. I have zero interest in other areas but recent socio-political events, interactions with the South Asian diaspora in the U.S., and the visible tensions between caste groups, regions, and religious communities have pushed me to understand the deeper historical roots of contemporary hardline attitudes. In that sense, this book has proved extremely valuable. Truschke’s account of the early evolution of Hindu thought, social structures, and regional variations helped me understand today’s dynamics with far greater clarity.
Audrey Truschke is among the leading historians of South Asia today. Whatever disagreements one may have with her conclusions, her work is consistently grounded in extensive multilingual sources—Sanskrit, Persian, Urdu, and modern scholarship alike. Her citations are thorough, transparent, and academically defensible. In a time when politicized attempts to rewrite Sub-Continent history has lead to obvious distortions, her insistence on evidence-based analysis stands out. The backlash she receives, often personal rather than scholarly, reflects the current climate more than it reflects the merit of her research.
Some critics argue that the book privileges certain themes—migration, contestation, marginality—over continuity or civilizational unity. However, this criticism overlooks an essential point: no single-volume history spanning five millennia can achieve perfect symmetry. Any macro-history must choose a narrative through-line. Truschke has chosen a social-historical approach, and within that framework, selective emphasis is not a flaw but a methodological necessity. Expecting absolute balance across every dynasty, region, or interpretive school is unrealistic. The more relevant question is whether her chosen framework is applied consistently and supported by evidence—on that measure, the book succeeds.
For readers unfamiliar with Truschke’s previous work or with the debates surrounding South Asian historiography, the Afterword and Historiography sections are indispensable. They explain her interpretive stance, respond to common objections, and outline the pressures that shape discussions of Indian history today. These sections are so clarifying that some readers may choose to begin with them.
Overall, this is a compelling and ambitious work about a region that did not exist as a single political entity until 1947 yet shares millennia of intertwined histories, migrations, and intellectual traditions. The book offers a coherent, accessible entry point into the complexities of South Asia’s past and the forces that continue to shape its present.
This is, in every sense, a magnum opus.
Highly recommended.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
To attempt the telling of a five-thousand-year history of a subcontinent that contains nearly a fifth of the world’s population is a commendable challenge, and Audrey Truschke deserves due credit for attempting to do so. Presenting such a history in a way that satisfies every reader is all but impossible, yet the author makes what can fairly be called a sincere attempt, even if not entirely free of bias.
It is only natural that in compressing material so vast and varied into some seven hundred pages, certain matters, even important ones, are left out. This omission is often cited as a criticism of the book, but that judgment feels misplaced. The work is not meant to be an encyclopedia of the subcontinent’s history. It is intended as a point of entry, offering the curious reader a broad narrative rather than exhaustive detail.
From the very beginning of the book, it is clear that the author is intent on foregrounding the voices of the historically oppressed - women, lower-caste communities, religious minorities, and others often pushed to the margins. In service of this aim, she avoids undue reverence toward historical figures and makes a conscious effort to avoid reverential narrative and hagiographies are only when deemed absolutely necessary.
The book, however, is not without its faults, for the author’s own leanings do begin to seep into the narrative over time. Though the impulse may be well meant, to counter the populist narrative that plagues today’s India, the result is not always a careful or reasoned critique. At times, it reads instead as a counterstatement drawn from the opposite end of the political spectrum. While many of my own views align with the author’s, I remain uneasy with history when it appears too closely colored by them.
Taken as a whole, the book succeeds best when read with clear expectations. It is not a final word, nor does it pretend to be one. It is best approached as an appetizer, an invitation to read further and more widely. For the reader willing to engage critically, it offers a useful beginning, setting the stage for the far richer and more demanding feast that is South Asian history.
One of the best books on the history of the Indian Subcontinent I have read in a long time. Rich and diverse archives, historical rigour in presenting evidence and building narratives; a focus on historical subjects so far neglected in a grand narrative story of history like the emergence of anti-caste consciousness, women saints, sufi movements, the growth of Sikhism, indentured labourers, workers who build some of India's finest monuments, communities that contributed to the cultural flourishing of the subcontinent, adivasi perspectives, and broad cultural trends such the reception of literary texts like Panchatantra or Mahabharata.
I also really appreciate the historians mentioned at the end of the chapters, whose works are worth diving into for an even more in depth understanding such V Geetha, Urvashi Butalia, Romila Thapar, Irfan Habib, Ayesha Jalal, Francesca Orsini and countless others. Even the essay on Historiography is worth reading before heading into book for it's informative stance on the historical method and the treatment of South Asian History far; explaining why the author made the choices that she did.
PS - I was pleasantly surprised to have the book end on a discussion of climate change; a much overlooked aspect of our contemporary moment when we attempt to think how our histories will be told.
An excellent history until the last ~25%. The author repeatedly claims that she seeks to avoid centering India (in the sense of the modern nation-state) and ruler/ruling politics in her take on subcontinental history, and yet that is precisely what dominates the hefty tail-end of this book. She enjoins the reader to see what her omissions have allowed her to discuss in their place, including arts and entertainment, but even these are restricted almost entirely to India and anyway encompass no more than a handful of lines altogether. Modern Nepal and Maldives are wholly forgotten and information on modern Bangladesh and Pakistan's minorities, cultural movements and general anthropology are restricted to the minimum. The culminating sections of the book, consisting of the Afterward and 'Historiography', seem entirely irrelevant. The author opines inexplicably at length on Hindu nationalism, in India and in the current South Asian American diaspora, as well as on the duties of a historian. At the very least, those roughly 30 pages could have made for plenty enough space to discuss the very subjects she claims from the start to be prioritizing, namely countries other than India and history oriented on an emphasis other than ruling politics. Even so, this volume still comprehensively represents a highly knowledgeable, legible and innovative narrative history that any reader interested in the story of South Asia should seriously consider picking up.
Prof. Truschke is obviously a gifted teacher. She assumes the reader has a basic knowledge of world history and points out how the story she is telling connects with what one already knows. By doing this, she avoids exoticizing South Asian history, even as she documents the ways in which it is unique. Because she is mindful of her readers' interests and historical framework, she avoids antiquarian, orientalist, abd historiographic digressions commonly found in South Asian historical accounts and instead devotes about half the book to the period after 1500 and throughout the book emphasizes topics familiar to anyone who has read a world-history textbook: trade, slavery, evolving forms of social control and political administration, warfare, the role and position of women at key historical moments, religious movements, art, internal migrations, deforestation, colonialism, the development of modern political movements, the diaspora, post-colonial politics, and the social and political role of modern media. Every chapter begins with a map. Many of them deliberately challenge Westerners' understanding of India's place in the world.
Misleading, inaccurate & biased History - not recommended by or for people wanting to read History as such
This book is a guised attempt at being honest while in reality it has an extreme bias towards anti-caste and anti-Hindu outlook. And this is seen not because of the facts but despite them. Twisting the facts to side with perpetrators of violence like Aurangzeb, while demeaning great kings like Shivaji for being shrewd opportunists, this book definitely doesn't put Indian history in the correct light. Where it surprisingly declares about the false claims of the location of a temple at Ayodhya, the birth place of Shri Ram, it shamelessly equates Aurangzeb's actions with traditions of Mahabharat. And all of this without bothering to dive into the facts. I definitely can say that it has a hidden motive or agenda of demeaning what was sacred to India while upholding the intruders and invaders in general.
All through it, there are obsessive references to where the so called lower castes rose and opposed the upper castes.
An Excellent Work covering India's 5000 years of History:
Many Indian History readers do not make the effort to engage with the content, methods of the Historian. As of now, I have not seen a reader share how the historian is wrong, other than calling someone Hindu, Marxist, Communal is not going to make it false.
The Author has covered entire Indian History in 514 pages. This work will be accessible to all, as there’s not much specialist words even-though this is academic.
I am still absorbing, pondering over my own questions over this excellent work. I enjoyed the references for each chapter.
1. Indus Valley Civilization, 2600–1900 BCE 2. Ancient Migrants and Vedic Practices 3. Building and Renouncing Cities, 550–325 BCE 4. Ashoka’s Mauryan Empire 5. Mahabharata: A Tale of Ancient India 6. South Asians Traveling, 200 BCE–300 CE 7. Inequality, Pleasure, and Power in Early India 8. India in the World, ca. 700 CE 9. Medieval South India 10. Indo-Persian Rule and Culture, 1190–1350 11. The Long Fifteenth Century 12. Seeking God or Fame, 1500–1550 13. Ordinary and Extraordinary Lives in Early Modern India 14. Religious Communities and Elite Culture, 1600–1650 15. Aurangzeb’s Empire and Two Shudra Lineages 16. Regional Flourishing, 1720–1780 17. Company Bahadur 18. Sepoy Rebellion and Dawn of the British Raj 19. Knowing India and Indians, 1860–1900 20. Indians on the Move, 1880–1920 21. Advocating for Independence, Nationalism, and Equal Rights 22. Dividing India in 1947 23. New Nation-States, 1947–1990 24. Everyday Life in Contemporary South Asia
Having read umpteen number of History books on India - ancient, medieval and modern - I was slightly skeptical about what fresh perspectives I will be able to garner through this book. However, I found this book to be extremely absorbing to read with author’s approach to the elements of history to focus upon, her inferences and conclusions about Indian History of various periods (many of them are fresh and unique and especially relevant when there is an attempt by recent dispensation in the country to fob off myths as history). Especially relevant is to read the historiography section that narrates why she omitted certain events which we regarded as describing important events in Indian History and also the basis for her conclusions about historical events.