Meet the Savarnas: Indian Millennials Whose Mediocrity Broke Everything

by Ravikant Kisana

In the early 2000s, India was expected to ‘shine’ and emerge as a rising superpower. It was the post-1990s golden generation—professionals fresh out of B-schools and engineering programmes—who were supposed to take us there. The Great Indian Dream was ready to lift-off. Except we never left the ground.

No one could really explain what went wrong. Some blamed politicians, some corruption, some capitalism and some communal polarization. Most people missed the giant elephant in the room—caste.

Caste in India is mostly researched and reported from the experience of the oppressed. Caste as a privilege is not understood well. How do caste elites respond to modernity? How do they understand culture, intimacy, love and tradition? Were their ideas, institutions and imaginations ever even capable of delivering upon the Great Indian Dream?

In Meet the Savarnas, Ravikant Kisana goes where few authors have dared: To document the lives, the concerns and crises of India’s urban elites, to frame the savarnas as a distinct social cohort, one that operates within itself and yet is oblivious of its own social rules, privileges and systems.

Genres: Nonfiction, India, Indian Literature, Politics, Sociology

256 pages, Hardcover

Published May 15, 2025

Reviews

[Satwik · Rating 5 out of 5]

A must-read for all so-called English-speaking urban elites in India. This book is brutally honest and will make you think deeply about your own life. It's an unfiltered critique of caste-its privileges, its injustices, and its far-reaching impact on India's socio-political reality.

There are some broad claims not backed by data, but as the author admits, these are deliberate provocations meant to make a point.

If you're a critical thinker, you'll walk away with a new perspective. But if you're easily offended, you will be offended to the core.

[Akash Dey · Rating 1 out of 5]

As a self-hating Savarna, I have eagerly awaited a ‘historical and cultural anthropology of elite Savarnas’ as the author credits himself for. While writing this book, Ravikant Kisana perhaps realised that he had done a half-assed job, and has hence preempted the critique of Savarna readers, and in turn has critiqued the critique. It’s best to use one of his preempted descriptions, of this being a rant in ‘broad, sweeping generalizations’.

Why else would a historical and cultural anthropology have a thin bibliography of 40 citations, mostly online news articles, tweets, and a YouTube video.

Undoubtedly Kisana spits facts throughout the book, but in doing so, loses a fair bit of nuance (and at times, factual accuracy). A helpful pyramid in the first chapter explains that savarnas comprise not only brahmans, kshatriyas, and vaishyas, but also shudras. The subjects of this book, however, seem to be limited to elite dwij-savarnas living in metropolises, especially those who surround Kisana- his academic colleagues, former friends, and present students. No one will argue that they should be spared scrutiny. But let’s not kid ourselves about the less than magisterial scope of this book. Can someone let me know whether Kisana’s impassioned criticisms apply to the shudras?

I was hopeful that a brave book like this will finally fling open the doors to deep analyses of the casteist underpinnings of what is considered ordinary ‘middle-class’ life. Calling Ravish Kumar or Jawahar Lal Nehru Brahman journalists / politicians certainly create the dissonance needed to start that conversation. But I wish Kisana had actually done the hard work of writing a well-researched and nuanced book, instead of 180 pages of Tweets.

[Muhammed Zuhrabi · Rating 5 out of 5]

സുഹൃത്തുക്കളിൽ ഭൂരിഭാഗം വരുന്നയാളുകളും എങ്ങനെയാണ് തൻ്റെ തന്നെ ജാതിയിലെ ആളുകളുമായി (വളരെ ജൈവികമായി!) പ്രേമത്തിലാവുന്നതെന്നും വിവാഹം കഴിക്കുന്നതെന്നും ഞാൻ ആലോചിക്കാറുണ്ട്. ഇരട്ട വിവേചനം നേരിടുന്ന കൂട്ടത്തിൽ നിന്നുള്ള ഒരാൾ എന്ന രീതിയിൽ ഈ 'വ്യക്തിപരമായ തീരുമാനങ്ങൾ' എന്നെ വല്ലാതെ അലോസരപ്പെടുത്തിയിട്ടുമുണ്ട്. സുഹൃത്തുക്കളുടെ സന്തോഷത്തിൽ പങ്കുചേരാതെ അതിൽ ജാതി കണ്ടെത്തുന്ന താൻ എന്തു മോശം മനുഷ്യനാണെന്ന് പോലും എനിക്ക് തോന്നിയിട്ടുണ്ട്. എന്നാലും ആ ചോദ്യം മാത്രം ബാക്കിയാകും. 'എവിടെ നിന്നാണ് അവർ ജാതി മനസ്സിലാക്കുന്നത്?' ശരീരത്തിൽ നിന്നാണോ? ശരീരഭാഷയിൽ നിന്നാണോ? അതോ ഭാഷയിൽ നിന്നാണോ? എന്തായാലും ജാതിയുടെ ഒരു അരിപ്പ ഭദ്രമായി എല്ലാവരുടേയും കൈയ്യിൽ ഉണ്ട് എന്നത് സത്യമാണ്.

അതുകൊണ്ട് തന്നെ രവികാന്തിൻ്റെ പുസ്തകം വായിച്ചപ്പോൾ കിട്ടിയ സമാധാനം ചില്ലറയല്ല! രണ്ടു കാരണങ്ങൾ കൊണ്ട് ഈ പുസ്തകം എനിക്ക് പ്രധാനമാണ്. ഒന്ന്, ജാതിയെ കൂടുതൽ വായിക്കേണ്ടതുണ്ടെന്നും പഠിക്കേണ്ടതുണ്ടെന്നും അത് ബോധ്യപ്പെടുത്തി എന്നതാണ്. ഇവിടെ നിന്ന് ആരെയെല്ലാം വായിക്കണം എന്നത് കൂടി രവികാന്ത് ആവർത്തിച്ച് ഓർമ്മപ്പെടുത്തുന്നുണ്ട്. രണ്ട്, അംബേദ്ക്കർ അപ്രാപ്യമായ ഒന്നല്ല, അനിവാര്യതയാണ് എന്ന 'ബോധോദയം'!

ഈ പുസ്തകത്തിൽ പറയുന്ന പല (വലിയ) കാര്യങ്ങൾക്കും ഒരു പഠനത്തിൻ്റെയും പിന്തുണയില്ല എന്നത് ഒരു സത്യമാണ്. അത് എഴുത്തുകാരൻ പല ആവർത്തി പറഞ്ഞു വെക്കുന്നുമുണ്ട്. പക്ഷെ ഒരു നൂറു പഠനങ്ങൾക്കുള്ള സാധ്യതകളും വിഷയങ്ങളും തുറന്നിട്ട് കൊണ്ടാണ് രവികാന്ത് തൻ്റെ പുസ്തകം അവസാനിപ്പിക്കുന്നത്.

[Areeb Ahmad (Bankrupt_Bookworm) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Phenomenal. Incisive, cutting, thought-provoking. Ravikant Kisana doesn't hold back at all. This is essential reading for everyone from the Indian subcontinent and its diaspora.

[Akankshya · Rating 5 out of 5]

A book that every urban savarna elite needs to read quietly, critically & honestly. (The author has also defined who elites are in the Indian context really well.) Here are some answers to why so many privileged savarna among us seem hollow or hollowed out by social forces that they have internalized.


The best book to understand Savarnas as a social cohort & how their (our?) self indulgent-narcissistic cultural narratives shaped, continues to shape Indian society & politics in debilitating & harmful ways.

This book reflected much of my own experiences in University & growing up in the early 2000s, the mirror it holds to the Gen-Z savarna & millennials through its lucid, sharp & compelling cultural analysis is so important for Indians to read, if they want to make sense of the country they're living in - to unpack the self-mythologizing impulses of Savarna as a social unit that has permeated every corner of society & culture, the hollow developmental narratives built on delusional saviour dreams, the cultural scripts that hold together savarna weddings & their perverted obedience to caste consolidation, the large social patterns that influence our individual psyche - there is a lot of insights that offer a clear view of how Savarna based hierarchies dominate the country.

For Savarnas, this book is an opportunity to engage in honest critical engagement with how pathologically caste determined their sense of self is & maybe attain the courage to break out of that mold. For non-savarnas the essays in this book, largely confirm and sharply illustrate ideas they already had about what's wrong with the Indian socio-political fabric.

PS - As a buffalo intellectual fan, I hope Ravikant writes more such books that help me make sense of reality. The humour, the sensitivity & the outrage are all much needed antidotes to survive this savarna world.

[Soumitro · Rating 4 out of 5]

Being a 'savarna' myself, reading this book felt like an attack. Not blunt but nuanced, very personal and fuelled by anger. But it shifted my perspectives about myself, our society, culture and country.

[Nikhil Karthik · Rating 4 out of 5]

Meet the Savarnas - An uncomfortable read if you are part of the demographic he is talking about. But you can take home a new perspective after reading this book or burn the book and write a LinkedIn post on how glorious our Indian caste-riddled history is.

The book is pretty unapologetic and provocative and does not hold back before landing its punches. The author treats the savarnas as a single homogeneous block and dissects their efforts to change and develop the nation without challenging the underlying social structure which in turn brings out the hypocrisy of their actions.

The book takes us through all dimensions of an elite Savarna individual’s life - from their education to their occupation and marriage. Some of the claims the author makes is not backed by data at all but I don’t think that was ever the point given the book aims to make the reader think twice about their everyday social interactions and view these interactions from a caste-oriented lens.

There is a thin line between criticising an action and making an unwarranted judgement and some sections of the book blur this line - Especially when he talks about Savarna women and their love life. These sections can feel borderline misogynistic. Maybe that’s why people say writing about women must be left to the women.

But overall, this book is pretty eye opening and the reader can definitely come out with new perspectives and some pretty deep self introspection as well.

[Rajiv Thind · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the prologue to Meet the Savarnas, Ravikant Kisana expresses disbelief that Penguin India agreed to publish him. “I do not think there has ever been a mainstream cultural commentary on savarna [privileged-caste] elites in India before,” he writes. “They own everything. They run everything, including the publishing firm that is printing this book.

The emergence of Dalit-Bahujan voices in Indian media is a relatively recent phenomenon, largely self-driven through platforms like Twitter (now X) and YouTube, which have allowed them to bypass upper-caste gatekeeping. Kisana, an educator also known online as Buffalo Intellectual, rose out of this digital ecosystem.

The first of the book’s eight chapters introduces the upper-caste Savarnas—Brahmins, Kayasthas, Punjabi Khatris, Banias, and others—whom Kisana encountered while growing up in Calcutta, a city where these caste elites held sway over culture, academia, and commerce.

Meet the Savarnas’ core thesis is blunt: caste elites, despite their self-image as intellectuals and cultural vanguards, are often mediocre individuals buoyed by inherited privilege and monopolistic access to resources. Their knowledge, Kisana contends, is performative, frequently borrowed from Western frameworks.

This Savarna dominance is sustained through Brahminical mythology, social engineering, and violence. Ironically, during the British Raj, groups like the Khatris and Vaishyas were demoted to the status of Shudras by certain Brahmin authorities, sparking fierce protests. As Manoj Mitta notes in Caste Pride, the Privy Council’s rulings of 1845 and 1857 legally restructured Hindu society into “three Dwija varnas and the rest.”

In the second chapter, “The Glass Floor”, Kisana describes around 75% of Indians who are relegated to the margins: Dalits, Adivasis, and various other backward castes. They are “millions and millions,” he writes, forced into “a subterranean vault—sweating, crying, pleading, clawing…”

The Savarnas, meanwhile, live freely above this “dirty basement,” insulated by a glass ceiling. They are too distant from the reality of caste oppression, though they may feign understanding through academic study or liberal posturing. According to the 2014 C. Rangarajan Committee report, anyone earning over ₹47 per day is not considered poor. This absurd threshold denies vast swathes of India even the recognition of their poverty.

The third chapter, “Karlo Duniya Mutthi Mein” (Seize the World), delves into the self-aggrandising Savarna narratives, which gained momentum during the economic liberalisation of the 2000s. The Savarna entrepreneurs—primarily opportunistic Bania tycoons, management gurus and tech bros—were celebrated as nation-builders. “This was a generation,” he writes, “that was supposed to make India a ‘superpower’ by 2020.”

These elites consistently oppose affirmative action. To sabotage constitutionally mandated reservations for the marginalised, the Savarnas have built an expansive parallel network of elite private schools and universities. As of 2025, “more than 40 per cent of all universities operating in the country are in the private sector.” The caste elite also leverage English-language education and communication as tools to exclude ordinary Indians.

The fifth chapter focuses on the caste-exclusive dating and marriage among the Savarnas, which serves to reinforce their privilege. This pattern has been normalised in Bollywood romances since the 1990s. Films centred on forbidden love, such as Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995), feature upper-caste protagonists who in the end win their parents’ approval. When Kisana wrote about caste and dating for The Swaddle, the backlash was severe, eventually costing him his teaching position at a private university.

Kisana argues that liberal and leftist Savarna can also employ sophisticated strategies to deflect, downplay, or whitewash their privilege. Ultimately, most Savarna liberals remain aligned with their conservative families and friends. To overlook caste-based injustice, “most Savarna liberals will cultivate a deliberate ignorance.”

Several real-world examples underscore this point. One is Tavleen Singh’s patronising, self-serving, and misinformed column in The Indian Express—a newspaper regarded for its quality and progressive journalism—in which she called for an end to reservations, denouncing the system as “corrupt, outdated, and evil.” Her views found widespread support on social media, resonating across the upper-caste political, ethnic, and religious spectrum.

Progressive Savarnas have rarely enabled meaningful Dalit agency, even when appearing to speak on their behalf. Arundhati Roy—an icon of the Indian left—penned an introduction titled “The Doctor and the Saint” to Dr Ambedkar’s Annihilation of Caste, rightly criticising Brahmin dominance in the bureaucracy and Bania control over capital. Yet, she neglects to address the exclusions within her own field—Indian English literature—where Dalit and Adivasi voices remain largely absent.

Kisana mentions how a documentary filmmaker like Vinay Shukla, for example, spotlighted Arvind Kejriwal, a Bania politician, and Ravish Kumar, a Brahmin journalist. These narratives pave the way for greater global recognition and career opportunities for upper-caste Indians. It is hard to imagine similar international promotion being extended to a Dalit or Adivasi personality.

When Oxfam’s 2019 report highlighted the stark underrepresentation of Dalit-Bahujans in Indian newsrooms, the liberal response was tepid. Things remain pretty much the same in 2025. Kisana highlights performative activism in the case of Faye D’Souza, “a journalist popular with savarna audiences for her feminist stances.” When criticised for ignoring caste in her coverage of the 2019 Hathras rape and murder, D’Souza briefly launched a #PassTheMic series featuring Dalit guests—only to revert to her usual programming, where Dalit voices once again became muted.

Despite maintaining a firm grip on power and prestige, Kisana argues that the Savarna world is faltering. Many entrepreneurial ventures have collapsed, public services and infrastructure are crumbling; pollution and environmental degradation are out of control. Urban India has become a fractured landscape of gated communities and exclusive suburbs, where the privileged withdraw from the chaos they helped create. Increasingly, the Savarna are fleeing to Western countries as students and professionals, using private education and caste networks.

Meanwhile, Bahujan workers are exploited as cheap labour, toiling and dying in hazardous conditions. Millions of cleaners, security guards, and labourers in IT parks and office complexes lack basic amenities, forced to “sit quietly under staircases, in cabinets, storerooms, or toilets to have their lunch.”

As ordinary Indians sink into despair, the Savarna-dominated entertainment industry continues to churn out vapid content—from massively popular podcasters like BeerBiceps to trashy web series and TV shows. Films like The Archies (2023) ape Hollywood, with the tone-deaf upper-caste creators indulging in vain fantasies of who they wish to be.

Kisana ends his book by imagining the rage of the oppressed masses exploding through the glass ceiling—catching the Savarnas unaware. Meet the Savarnas is an urgent and impassioned polemic.
That said, the book’s narrative occasionally meanders; chapter titles don’t always align with content; and arguments are sometimes repeated. The book could use more thorough referencing and bibliography.

Also, Kisana’s vision of Bahujan unity may be overly idealistic. After all, he acknowledges in the book that some of the worst atrocities against Dalits are committed by dominant backward castes. India is a land of complexity and paradoxes—for instance, the rise of the Bahujan Samaj Party was made possible through alliances between Dalits and Brahmins.

The tone of the book may come across as overly cynical or pessimistic, but it is rooted in Kisana’s lived experience. As a disillusioned educator from a marginalised background, he has openly written about grappling with suicidal thoughts. Every year, scores of Dalit and Adivasi students take their own lives, ignored by the mainstream media.

Profoundly depressing as these realities are, the anti-caste struggle can succeed only through solidarity across the caste spectrum. Dalit intellectuals have long recognised the contributions of allies such as Ram Manohar Lohia (a Bania) and Brahmin writers like Rahul Sankrityayan and Harishankar Parsai. Rajendra Yadav, editor of Hans, championed strong Dalit voices in Hindi literature and also supported upper-caste writers like Uday Prakash. Prakash’s novella Peeli Chhatri Wali Ladki (2001) offers one of the sharpest satires of the Brahmin monopoly over Indian academia and culture.

Meet the Savarnas is an important and timely book. Hopefully, it will create space for more non-Savarna voices to break through the echo chamber of lies and self-deception that prolongs injustice and suffering for the majority of Indians.

[Anandita Malhotra · Rating 5 out of 5]

So many of the one/ two star reviews on here talk about Kisana’s ‘bitter’ tone of voice, and that is so funnily exactly the point of the book. Marginalised voices must perform their anger in a way that is palatable to Savarnas apparently. Should have guessed!

[Gauravi Lobo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Critical literature that elite urban India should read. The book makes many striking observations, but would benefit from some serious editing and tightening and more citations. Not because it’s too long but because some of its very poignant points are lost in a slightly incoherent structure.

[Devathi · Rating 5 out of 5]

A cultural anthropology of savarnas (specially the urban elite kind) over the last three decades — and one that absolutely needed writing. Indians asking “What is a savarna?”, this book is especially pertinent for you… because you are the problem.

[Gokul KP · Rating 4 out of 5]

Loved how the book is super self-aware.

[Rajiv Thind · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the prologue to Meet the Savarnas, Ravikant Kisana expresses disbelief that Penguin India agreed to publish him. “I do not think there has ever been a mainstream cultural commentary on savarna [privileged-caste] elites in India before,” he writes. “They own everything. They run everything, including the publishing firm that is printing this book.

The emergence of Dalit-Bahujan voices in Indian media is a relatively recent phenomenon, largely self-driven through platforms like Twitter (now X) and YouTube, which have allowed them to bypass upper-caste gatekeeping. Kisana, an educator also known online as Buffalo Intellectual, rose out of this digital ecosystem.

The first of the book’s eight chapters introduces the upper-caste Savarnas—Brahmins, Kayasthas, Punjabi Khatris, Banias, and others—whom Kisana encountered while growing up in Calcutta, a city where these caste elites held sway over culture, academia, and commerce.

Meet the Savarnas’ core thesis is blunt: caste elites, despite their self-image as intellectuals and cultural vanguards, are often mediocre individuals buoyed by inherited privilege and monopolistic access to resources. Their knowledge, Kisana contends, is performative, frequently borrowed from Western frameworks.

This Savarna dominance is sustained through Brahminical mythology, social engineering, and violence. Ironically, during the British Raj, groups like the Khatris and Vaishyas were demoted to the status of Shudras by certain Brahmin authorities, sparking fierce protests. As Manoj Mitta notes in Caste Pride, the Privy Council’s rulings of 1845 and 1857 legally restructured Hindu society into “three Dwija varnas and the rest.”

In the second chapter, “The Glass Floor”, Kisana describes around 75% of Indians who are relegated to the margins: Dalits, Adivasis, and various other backward castes. They are “millions and millions,” he writes, forced into “a subterranean vault—sweating, crying, pleading, clawing…”

The Savarnas, meanwhile, live freely above this “dirty basement,” insulated by a glass ceiling. They are too distant from the reality of caste oppression, though they may feign understanding through academic study or liberal posturing. According to the 2014 C. Rangarajan Committee report, anyone earning over ₹47 per day is not considered poor. This absurd threshold denies vast swathes of India even the recognition of their poverty.

The third chapter, “Karlo Duniya Mutthi Mein” (Seize the World), delves into the self-aggrandising Savarna narratives, which gained momentum during the economic liberalisation of the 2000s. The Savarna entrepreneurs—primarily opportunistic Bania tycoons, management gurus and tech bros—were celebrated as nation-builders. “This was a generation,” he writes, “that was supposed to make India a ‘superpower’ by 2020.”

These elites consistently oppose affirmative action. To sabotage constitutionally mandated reservations for the marginalised, the Savarnas have built an expansive parallel network of elite private schools and universities. As of 2025, “more than 40 per cent of all universities operating in the country are in the private sector.” The caste elite also leverage English-language education and communication as tools to exclude ordinary Indians.

The fifth chapter focuses on the caste-exclusive dating and marriage among the Savarnas, which serves to reinforce their privilege. This pattern has been normalised in Bollywood romances since the 1990s. Films centred on forbidden love, such as Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995), feature upper-caste protagonists who in the end win their parents’ approval. When Kisana wrote about caste and dating for The Swaddle, the backlash was severe, eventually costing him his teaching position at a private university.

Kisana argues that liberal and leftist Savarna can also employ sophisticated strategies to deflect, downplay, or whitewash their privilege. Ultimately, most Savarna liberals remain aligned with their conservative families and friends. To overlook caste-based injustice, “most Savarna liberals will cultivate a deliberate ignorance.”

Several real-world examples underscore this point. One is Tavleen Singh’s patronising, self-serving, and misinformed column in The Indian Express—a newspaper regarded for its quality and progressive journalism—in which she called for an end to reservations, denouncing the system as “corrupt, outdated, and evil.” Her views found widespread support on social media, resonating across the upper-caste political, ethnic, and religious spectrum.

Progressive Savarnas have rarely enabled meaningful Dalit agency, even when appearing to speak on their behalf. Arundhati Roy—an icon of the Indian left—penned an introduction titled “The Doctor and the Saint” to Dr Ambedkar’s Annihilation of Caste, rightly criticising Brahmin dominance in the bureaucracy and Bania control over capital. Yet, she neglects to address the exclusions within her own field—Indian English literature—where Dalit and Adivasi voices remain largely absent.

Kisana mentions how a documentary filmmaker like Vinay Shukla, for example, spotlighted Arvind Kejriwal, a Bania politician, and Ravish Kumar, a Brahmin journalist. These narratives pave the way for greater global recognition and career opportunities for upper-caste Indians. It is hard to imagine similar international promotion being extended to a Dalit or Adivasi personality.

When Oxfam’s 2019 report highlighted the stark underrepresentation of Dalit-Bahujans in Indian newsrooms, the liberal response was tepid. Things remain pretty much the same in 2025. Kisana highlights performative activism in the case of Faye D’Souza, “a journalist popular with savarna audiences for her feminist stances.” When criticised for ignoring caste in her coverage of the 2019 Hathras rape and murder, D’Souza briefly launched a #PassTheMic series featuring Dalit guests—only to revert to her usual programming, where Dalit voices once again became muted.

Despite maintaining a firm grip on power and prestige, Kisana argues that the Savarna world is faltering. Many entrepreneurial ventures have collapsed, public services and infrastructure are crumbling; pollution and environmental degradation are out of control. Urban India has become a fractured landscape of gated communities and exclusive suburbs, where the privileged withdraw from the chaos they helped create. Increasingly, the Savarna are fleeing to Western countries as students and professionals, using private education and caste networks.

Meanwhile, Bahujan workers are exploited as cheap labour, toiling and dying in hazardous conditions. Millions of cleaners, security guards, and labourers in IT parks and office complexes lack basic amenities, forced to “sit quietly under staircases, in cabinets, storerooms, or toilets to have their lunch.”

As ordinary Indians sink into despair, the Savarna-dominated entertainment industry continues to churn out vapid content—from massively popular podcasters like BeerBiceps to trashy web series and TV shows. Films like The Archies (2023) ape Hollywood, with the tone-deaf upper-caste creators indulging in vain fantasies of who they wish to be.

Kisana ends his book by imagining the rage of the oppressed masses exploding through the glass ceiling—catching the Savarnas unaware. Meet the Savarnas is an urgent and impassioned polemic.
That said, the book’s narrative occasionally meanders; chapter titles don’t always align with content; and arguments are sometimes repeated. The book could use more thorough referencing and bibliography.

Also, Kisana’s vision of Bahujan unity may be overly idealistic. After all, he acknowledges in the book that some of the worst atrocities against Dalits are committed by dominant backward castes. India is a land of complexity and paradoxes—for instance, the rise of the Bahujan Samaj Party was made possible through alliances between Dalits and Brahmins.

The tone of the book may come across as overly cynical or pessimistic, but it is rooted in Kisana’s lived experience. As a disillusioned educator from a marginalised background, he has openly written about grappling with suicidal thoughts. Every year, scores of Dalit and Adivasi students take their own lives, ignored by the mainstream media.

Profoundly depressing as these realities are, the anti-caste struggle can succeed only through solidarity across the caste spectrum. Dalit intellectuals have long recognised the contributions of allies such as Ram Manohar Lohia (a Bania) and Brahmin writers like Rahul Sankrityayan and Harishankar Parsai. Rajendra Yadav, editor of Hans, championed strong Dalit voices in Hindi literature and also supported upper-caste writers like Uday Prakash. Prakash’s novella Peeli Chhatri Wali Ladki (2001) offers one of the sharpest satires of the Brahmin monopoly over Indian academia and culture.

Meet the Savarnas is an important and timely book. Hopefully, it will create space for more non-Savarna voices to break through the echo chamber of lies and self-deception that prolongs injustice and suffering for the majority of Indians.

[shrp · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am late to finishing this amazing book. But I am so so glad I did read it. It was not easy to read it as a Savarna myself.

I would want love for every Savarna to read it and start on the journey of recognizing their privileges.

[Joseph · Rating 3 out of 5]

Much of it felt like the author's rant, which he did give a heads-up about in the intro. Though there are some interesting takes and inferences, I am unable to agree with them all.

[Arshad Kazi · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’ll start with the same line the author opens with, because it perfectly sets the tone and also quietly warns you before even starting the discussion…

“Dear reader, it is fine. I know the costs. Protect yourself…”

From that point, I knew this wasn’t going to be comfortable.

The book begins by questioning who a “reader” even is in India. Not just someone who can read, but someone who has access to certain books, certain intellectual spaces and certain conversations. That access is deeply tied to caste and class. Upper castes sit closer to knowledge creation, while others are pushed into the role of passive consumers. That idea stayed with me.

As someone from the older side of Gen Z, I realised how shallow our understanding of caste based oppression actually is. We speak about caste as if it is background noise or a historical leftover, when it still quietly runs through our institutions, housing, friendships and humour. We love calling ourselves modern, but the book makes it clear that modernity in India has mostly meant better camouflage, not real dismantling.

I don’t fully know what I’m trying to write here. This is not a clean review, more like a disturbed commentary. It is sensitive and the book itself generalises heavily, so this should be read as reflection, not attack.

1. The glass floor: The metaphor of the glass floor explains how savarnas are supported by a system they pretend does not exist. You see it in underrepresentation in elite spaces, in housing filters, and in occupations that still follow inherited caste patterns like sanitation work. Cities function because of invisible labour, yet the people doing it remain unseen. That contradiction is the glass floor.
2. Marriage and social conditioning: We like to say “I can marry anyone”, but there is always an invisible boundary. Even people who see themselves as progressive often stay within familiar social groups. Marriage becomes a way to preserve comfort, networks and social capital. Caste now survives less on belief and more on convenience, and that is what makes it disturbingly efficient.
3. Millennial vision and mediocrity: Here I want to add my own observation, not the author’s. Mumbai feels like a perfect example of this shallow imagination. Massive infrastructure, crores of investment, premium metros and glossy visuals, yet half the city still struggles at ground level. Local trains remain packed, slums expand beside luxury towers, and basic systems remain fragile. Development looks futuristic from a distance but feels unchanged in everyday life. This is not incompetence, but narrow vision. The same applies to corporate and startup culture. Long hours are glorified, entry-level salaries stagnate, burnout is normalised. Innovation often feels like imitation, and creativity quietly suffocates under hustle culture and performance pressure.
4. Gen Z, modernity and escape: A large part of my generation always had an exit plan. Elite college, foreign degree, job abroad, settle. Distance becomes success. At the same time, this generation performs hyper-modernity while romantically clinging to an imagined past through nostalgia, spirituality and cultural symbolism. The contradiction is rarely questioned because if things feel too uncomfortable, there is always the option to leave.

The book ends on a bleak note suggesting that those with power may slowly detach from the country, leaving those who always carried its weight to shape it. I don’t fully agree, but I can’t completely dismiss it either. If you’ve only engaged with caste through surface-level debates, this book is worth reading. Not because it is perfect, but because it refuses to let you remain comfortable.

[Rahul Vishnoi · Rating 5 out of 5]

-A searing exploration of caste on all its levels-
Review of 'Meet the Savarnas' by Ravikant Kisana

Quote Alert
"𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐊𝐮𝐥𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐊𝐮𝐥𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐞𝐞𝐬, 𝐈𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐬, 𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐬-𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐮𝐤𝐬, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬-𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐞𝐧 𝐙 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭."


In 'Meet the Savarnas', Kisana talks about the apathy that has seeped into India's institutions and the society, calling out the savarnas, a cohort of high-caste urban elites who were supposed to take India to places as predicted in early 2000. He's scathing, and minces no words and no one, including his publishers, doubting if they will publish what he is writing without editing out his writing.


He mentions glass ceiling, faced by working women in corporates, before pulling the rug and telling us what men and women from lower caste face- 'glass floor'. These men and women stay under the glass floor and stare at the people above.
He writes- "Anoop Kheri, a lifelong Ambedkarite activist who grew up in Uttar Pradesh, recalls a common saying in his neck of the woods that goes something like this:'Even the poorest Brahman can reach the Prime Minister's Office in four phone calls'."

Kisana writes that being successful as a marginalized caste person in savarna society is like walking on eggshells- carefully avoiding the wrath of savarna masters while constantly losing bits of yourself through erosion and distance from your community, identity and sense of self. Over time, they start mirroring and mimicking the savarna gaze so completely that their own community's lack of success appears to them as a product of inhibition and small- minded pettiness.

Kisana points out at the varna triangle, shown while teaching people about the caste hierarchy in Hinduism, splitting all the caste in equal proportions, putting Brahmins at top. He revises it as avarnas at the base, the ones without the possession of varna, followed by others and Brahmins occupying the very tip of the triangle.
He also mentions an interesting anecdote about Radhika Gupta and the CEO of Bombay Shaving company mocking corporate employees, just like Narayan Murthy.

Books as a means to discriminate are also discussed. They are considered 'a series of items and performances that certified a higher status. They were meant for a serious person, unlike those who were not from books, who were understood to be living lesser lives, mean and uncultured lives, rough and simpler lives. Unfortunate beings, intellectual toddlers who had to be taken care of and scolded, even, because they simply were not serious enough to understand the deeper truths of life.

Read this one to know a better understanding of the caste in India.

[Sumeet Pradhan · Rating 3 out of 5]

A Necessary but Flawed Mirror to Caste Privilege in Urban India

“Meet the Savarnas” by Ravikant Kisana tackles a topic that deserves far more attention in Indian public discourse: caste privilege, particularly as it operates within urban, upper-class (and largely upper-caste) spaces. The book attempts to expose the comfortable denial in which many privileged Indians live—the belief that caste is no longer relevant in modern society. In several parts, it succeeds in holding up a mirror to this hypocrisy, though it is not without its shortcomings.

The book insightfully critiques the myth of meritocracy, the denial of caste-based discrimination in urban India, and the erasure of generational privilege. These are recurring traits among the urban "savarna" class that the author brings into sharp focus. Kisana is articulate—though at times, perhaps too articulate. His English occasionally veers into the overly academic or exotic, which is ironic given his own critique of the English-language privilege of the upper castes. In fact, his fluency in elite English, likely a product of the very system he critiques, underscores the complexity of caste and privilege.

The book ranges across familiar themes—from the clichéd upper-caste “struggle story” to the invocation of meritocracy in the post-liberalization corporate world, which often masks a deeper mediocrity protected by privilege. These observations are timely and thought-provoking.

However, the book does suffer from a few weaknesses. First, the tone often feels bitter, and the arguments at times seem more like an extension of the author’s podcast episodes (which I’ve only sampled briefly) rather than a carefully structured, standalone book. This sometimes undermines the impact of his message.

Second, while Kisana includes periodic disclaimers acknowledging that his critiques are based on broad generalizations, the actual tone of the book tends toward sweeping universality. For instance, the “glass ceiling” is portrayed as unchanging and absolute across all contexts, which doesn’t align with the nuanced reality of caste in India. His definition of “savarna” also shifts for convenience: early on, he includes all jatis above Dalits (including OBCs) as savarnas, yet later he frames OBCs as non-savarnas when it suits his argument. To be fair, caste is a complex and multi-layered system that resists easy categorization, but the lack of definitional consistency weakens the analysis.

Third, the narrative often slips into a simplistic binary: "savarnas bad, non-savarnas good." For example, the book attempts to absolve Lalu Prasad Yadav of his role in the 'jungle raj' purely on the basis of his identity, while any positive actions by savarnas are dismissed as performative. In an interview, he mentioned how Bengali bhadraloks look down on him—it seems he has picked up that same dismissive attitude. This lack of balance and overgeneralization risks alienating readers who might otherwise be receptive to a nuanced conversation.

Most critically, the book tends to isolate caste from other interwoven social factors. While caste undeniably plays a role in nearly every aspect of Indian life, its intersection with other forces—patriarchy, poverty, corruption, politics, population pressure, and opportunism—cannot be ignored. Addressing caste as though it operates in a vacuum simplifies a deeply interconnected reality. It’s akin to writing a book on sodium without once mentioning chlorine in the context of salt.

Despite these limitations, I still give the book 3 stars. It deals with a subject that the privileged classes must confront rather than ignore. While the author, if he stumbles over here, may well dismiss my critique as yet another example of savarna performance, I hope other readers will find value in at least some of the concerns I’ve raised.

This is a book that deserves to be read—if not for its conclusions, then for the much-needed conversation it seeks to ignite.

[Atul Maurya · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ravikant Kisana’s timely book Meet the Savaranas is a great mirror to the Modern India and it shows how caste still shapes the nation despite many people saying that it does not matter anymore. Specifically the book throws major shade on Millenials like us who had great opportunities to transform the nation but overall have been a disappointment.

Caste is not a new phenomenon in India and this discrimination has been going on for thousands of years. If one studies deeply and sincerely the atrocities committed by the Upper Caste on Shudras, Dalits and Adivasis is significantly worse than those committed by say the Colonists, Slave owners and dare I say, even the Nazis. Many tomes have been written about caste discrimination but Ravikant puts it nicely in the modern context. He starts by giving examples of his own life and then generalizes it to the world that we see around us.

People like us who were born and brought up in an urban environment fail to see the caste discrimination happening all around us. For someone living in small towns and villages, Caste can be THE factor which decides their destiny. That is not so apparent in urban areas but that doesn’t mean its not there If I think deeply it becomes clear how the upper castes get access to all the resources and opportunities that a nation like ours struggling with scarcity provides. Money is just one factor in all of this. Kinship and access to power matters a lot too. So does the self-belief and the entitlement that the upper caste has and is severely lacking in someone lower down in the pecking order. Gatekeeping in top tier institutions happen in a subtle ways. Looking back I can see this happening as someone who went to a good Engineering College and then went to an Ivy League. Even in the US 90% of the Indians that come are from Upper Caste, despite being only 15% of the population. There has to be some reason why.

If we see the reality it seems absolutely imperative to have affirmative action. Yet you will have people with all the privilege cribbing about ‘Reservations’ under the guise of ‘Meritocracy’. This comes from the same people who have enjoyed the most ‘Anti-Meritocratic’ society in the history of the world, thanks to the Varna system, and that too for 1000’s of years. Despite being only 15% of the population, most of the people with money, power and access are Savaranas. The country is behind not because of ‘Reservations’ but because of incompetent and corrupt Savaranas.

I can when the author says that Millenials who were once rebellious now bow down to the same structure that they once wanted to break it. I see more and more of my friends becoming religious and at times bigoted, many under the guise of spiritualism. All this has accelerated more in the last 11 years which actively promotes Brahmanism and bigotry under the guise of Hindutva.

Ravikant has written a great book and is a must read for all but especially Indian Millenials.

[Tanvika · Rating 5 out of 5]

Meet the Savarnas : A Mirror, Not a Kool Aid

Reading Meet the Savarnas felt like someone finally said out loud what many of us especially those from Tribal, Dalit, and Bahujan backgrounds have always known but rarely heard acknowledged in public.

This book is deeply validating, unsettling, and empowering. It doesn’t just critique overt casteism .It exposes the subtle, insidious ways caste continues to structure our institutions, relationships, dating lives, classrooms, NGOs, and even activist circles .All under the polished masks of progressiveness, merit, and solidarity.


It made me realize that I am not the problem for being tribal.
The shame, exclusion, and discomfort I’ve internalized were never mine to carry.
They were manufactured responses to a system rigged by savarna elites to keep us out and then blame us for being “behind.”

And that ever-present word: “Merit.”

It’s a convenient myth.
The same people who preach meritocracy have built a deeply mediocre and unequal society where gatekeeping is passed off as excellence.Just look at the research quality, caste nepotism in business, and India’s declining employment landscape. The results speak for themselves.

Caste doesn’t end at temples or surnames.
It thrives in bedrooms, WhatsApp groups, HR policies, conferences, and matrimonial preferences.

Many savarnas weaponize intimacy, solidarity, and even activism without ever risking their comfort, caste status, or family reputation.

Meet the Savarnas didn’t just teach me to critique the system .It taught me to stop blaming myself for being outside it.

It’s not a comfortable read.
But it’s a necessary one.

Recommended for:

Savarnas who are ready to move beyond hashtags, guilt, and token gestures and are actually willing to question their comfort, complicity, and caste capital.

Bahujan, Dalit, and Adivasi readers who’ve ever been made to feel “too angry,” “too sensitive,” or “not enough” in elite spaces . This book will remind you: you were never the problem.

Anyone who still thinks caste is a “rural issue” or believes their English, degrees, or dating history make them casteless read this and prepare to be uncomfortable.

[Elusive Man · Rating 2 out of 5]

The author has some good observations, but they are betrayed by his bitterness, bordering on hatred for the group he classifies as 'savarnas'. The marxist trope of lumping people up on broad categories aside, his definition shifts depending on the convenience of his arguments. Does the group include shudras, or does it not? Well, it changes depending on the point Kisana is trying to make in a book driven more by personal prejudice rather than academic rigour.

The adjective laden rants read more like tweets or his podcast episodes rather than a well researched book. It is quite evident that his observed sample size, upon which the book is based, is rather small - mostly comprised of his academic peers and pampered students. His criticism of the Guru-Shishya parampara, for instance, is based on a surface level reading of the Mahabharata; one doubts if he has ever seem the system up close - a good place is the world of Indian classical music, where the system still survives.

It seems to be Kisana's case that everything 'savarnas' do is a self serving performance, that there is nothing of value or authenticity in their thoughts or actions. This reductive logic is the very thing he accuses them of, while dishing out more of the same. There is clearly no space for individualism in his scheme of things when it comes to the 'savarnas'. While painting broad strokes, he also absolves all 'bahujan' leadership - the likes of Lalu Yadav and Mulayam Yadav - of the havoc they have wrecked, whilst conveniently forgetting that they are 'savarna' too.

Another clever tactic he employs is to disregard any criticism of his arguments are casteist. He claims that the sole purpose of anybody who criticises him is to demean him because of his identity - that there can be no good faith criticism of his work.

I read it because I thought it could provide some valid insights, which it did to a very small extent. Ironically, the bulk of it is just the author's personal prejudice towards a small cohort of 'savarnas' whom he has dealt with in his small world of academics.

A very mediocre read.

[Gurpreet Singh · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75

According to the author, this book is a critical study of the dominant and trendsetting Savarna culture. Savarnas have always been assessors, having held dominance over knowledge production. He begins with a depiction of Savarna culture through a critical analysis of caste hegemony, monopoly over knowledge and resources, social structure, and their performative, myth-making, and struggle narratives.
He reclassifies the caste pyramid, placing Dwija Savarnas at the top and other non-Dwija castes and Avarnas at the bottom. His primary focus is on the social and economic effects of Savarna culture in the post-liberalisation era. The concept of the glass floor is particularly apt and highlights the glaring discrimination against oppressed classes.
Furthermore, he examines the caste privileges of business classes and the emergence of a new corporate Savarna-capital complex. One chapter is dedicated to the elite yet unaffordable and unnecessary education system, which stems from a vulgar casteist urge to separate themselves from the so-called lower castes and classes. This applies to both school and higher education.
The author devotes two chapters to exploring caste in relation to love, sex, romance, and marriage. Finally, he offers a scathing critique of the mediocrity of Gen Z, who, after indulging in performative Western developmental tropes, have turned to spiritual ghar wapsi. In their minds, they have already fled the country; only a physical exodus remains. The author expresses utter disregard for their mediocrity. At times, he may seem bitter, but he addresses this directly in his own words. Overall, it is a decent read.

[Craartology · Rating 3 out of 5]

Meet the Savarnas: Indian Millennials Whose Mediocrity Broke Everything by Ravikant Kisana is an unabashed and provocative account that details the privileges of the elite castes in the country. It encapsulates the lives of the urban elite right from their birth, to education, occupation and marriages there's critique, and it's bitter not witty.

I picked this book for a fair sense of judgement and critique but not the over-generalisation of aspects that can't be distinguished without understanding their dependency and complexity in a social structure. There's a lot that seemed exaggerated only to emphasize on the privileges of the elite castes (root cause of all issues for everyone) be it themselves or those who belong to the relatively lower sections of society and described by the author.

As a reader who began persuing with the intension to discover, learn and accept - I was expecting a factually accurate account of the disparity that exists in the social structure in terms of the opportunities of education, occupation, possession of wealth, etc with reasons for these deprivation to the non-elite even when the country has "progressed" to great heights in today's day and age. Yes, they were mentioned but their relevance in the book was overshadowed by the repetitive rant like criticism of the "savarnas". While it's necessary to highlight the hypocrisy in the way society functions, it's also necessary to have sound facts and records to merit the argument. Ravikant Kisana, has penned a rueful and linguistically creative account of the uncomfortable and unpleasant elements of caste privileges that persist and must end. Not disappointed but neither am I impressed.

[Bookishbong Moumita · Rating 5 out of 5]

Have you ever wondered how deeply the caste system shapes the way we see ourselves—and each other—in India today?

This book is for anyone from an urban, privileged background. It asks us to look closely and honestly at how our place in society is shaped by ideas we often don't even realize we've absorbed.

The author also breaks down what privilege and influence look like in our daily lives, and helps explain why so many people brought up in these circles sometimes feel a sense of emptiness inside.

If you want to truly understand Savarnas as a group—and how their thinking habits have shaped, and continue to shape, Indian society—this book is the best place to start. It explores how self-centered stories, passed down for generations, can negatively affect politics, culture, and personal identity.

The author explains that our traditions, family scripts, and even big events like weddings are shaped by old ideas that keep the caste system going strong. There are so many insights about how these patterns are everywhere—even in how we think about ourselves.

It is a powerful invitation to question how caste has shaped our sense of who we are. It might even help us break old habits and see things differently. For others, it confirms what many have already noticed: that old beliefs about caste still shape our country in big and small ways.

[Ingrid · Rating 4 out of 5]

The failure of India’s elites to transcend our short-term self interest in building the economic, political, social, and cultural establishments we have, and the consequent hollowness, narrowness, and unsustainability of the outcomes we have achieved, has been at the expense of the majority of our compatriots who do not have access to caste privileges. This slim volume, that tends toward polemic and sweeping generalisation, paints a deeply critical portrait of our recent history from a non-savarna* perspective. It is difficult but necessary reading.

*savarna = upper castes in the Hindu caste system

[Sonal · Rating 2 out of 5]

A few of the points were good, but nothing new. If I had to sum up the whole book in one line: people with connections will always do better and have more opportunities in everything. It came across as a one-sided rant that never engaged with the other perspective. Although he mentioned that a few unprivileged individuals managed to cross over by erasing their identities, he failed to note that the same families still benefit from reservations, often blocking the progress of those who genuinely need them, while placing the entire blame on the privileged.
The book is well-written, uses a few good sources, and draws a parallel between the Western slavery system and the Indian caste system.

[Rituraj · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really liked how Meet the Savarnas calls out the hypocrisy and mediocrity of elite savarnas, showing how detached they are from those below the glass floor, living in their own bubble. The first half is especially strong — the parts on the “corporate savarna” and how love, sex, and romance play out in a caste-stratified society really stood out. But as it moves along, the language becomes more jargony, the structure a bit loose, and some sections felt more like random political commentary than deep analysis. Still, it’s an important book and one that every savarna should read.

[Jayasankar Thayyil · Rating 3 out of 5]

The topic is fascinating, but it tends to become repetitive quickly. For readers familiar with social science literature, particularly on India, it offers little that is new or revelatory. However, it serves as an excellent primer for those unfamiliar with the various forms caste identity takes in contemporary India. Moreover, the author deserves credit for making complex debates, often buried in academic jargon and obscure journals, accessible to a general audience.

[Arpitha · Rating 5 out of 5]

i finished reading this in 3 sittings and each time I stopped reading I left feeling angry, introspective and ashamed. this book is meant to gnaw at your nerves but if you're moved to the point of being offended rather than having a hard think about yourself and your views then maybe this is the book that's meant for you precisely. need to sit with my thoughts for a long time and return to the parts I've marked heavily.

[Devesh Upman · Rating 1 out of 5]

Meet the Savarnas reads like a polemic disguised as analysis.
Chapter after chapter leans on selective anecdotes and familiar tropes, quietly steering the reader toward hostility rather than insight.
Complex social histories are flattened to serve a predictable leftist narrative, with dissenting realities conveniently left out.
Even from an anti-caste position, the framing feels intellectually dishonest and agenda-first.
It wants compliance, not contemplation—and that’s its biggest failure.