A Lay Reader’s Reflection on Manu S. Pillai’s God, Guns and Missionaries: The Making of the Modern Hindu Identity, Gurugram, Penguin Random House, 2024.
When I first saw this book, the subtitle and the author’s name caught my eye. I had listened to a couple of Manu’s interviews online and was curious to read one of his books. After reading God, Guns and Missionaries, one line stayed with me: “Of the Brahmins, For the Brahmins, and By the Brahmins.” Still, I wonder whether this title—God, Guns and Missionaries—naturally fits the overall theme of the book. Even Manu himself acknowledges this uncertainty when he writes:
“I cannot claim that my store of knowledge is perfect even now—I don’t think anyone would be bold enough to say this when it comes to Hinduism. But I have made a sincere effort here to answer questions that have played on my mind. There will be other ways to address the birth of modern Hinduism; God, Guns and Missionaries marks the path I have pursued. I hope it will stand up to scrutiny. The book may not satisfy everyone—I am not sure it has entirely satisfied me, for there is so much more to explore—and it has its limitations…”
(Acknowledgements, p. 327)
But I assure Manu that this book did satisfy me. However, I do wonder if an additional word—God, Brahmins, Guns and Missionaries—might better capture the subject of this book. Though there are references to God, less about Guns, and little about Missionaries,1 there is a great deal of discussion about Brahminism—how it shaped the image of India in the past, how it subtly continues to influence the present, and how it may persist into the future. Rightly or wrongly, whether accepted or rejected, Brahminism has become a convenient tool for many to shape their own image of India. [See: https://www.facebook.com/groups/988364783263100] [https://dayanandbharati.in/brahminical-hinduism-a-multi-edged-sword/]
This is a serious piece of scholarship, written with impressive academic discipline. Right from the start, you can tell Manu has done his research. Almost every point is backed by a reference. Out of the 564 total pages (including the index), a whopping 234 pages are devoted to notes alone! That’s 2,308 footnotes across just 330 pages of main content—about seven notes per page. That alone tells you how deeply researched this book is.
Where Is the One Thing You Wanted to Say?
But here’s the thing: while trying to say one thing, Manu ends up saying many things. I did learn a lot from this book, no doubt. But I kept wondering—what was the one clear message meant for someone like me, a regular reader, not a scholar or academic?
As a joke, I told one of my shishyas after finishing the book, “Now I’m going to read Part Two—Notes—to find out the one thing Manu actually wanted to say in Part One, the main text!” Of course, Manu never divided his book like that, but considering the length and richness of the notes, I couldn’t resist saying it!
I’ve been reading books since my teens, and even if I forget many things, I usually remember the main idea. For example, take History of Dharmaśāstra by Maha Mahopadhyaya Prof. P. V. Kane, that I read around 20 years before—a huge work with nearly 6,000 pages across five volumes (some volumes split into two, so it’s eight books in total). Yet the main point is very clear: to understand Hinduism, we must understand Dharma—not just in theory, but as it evolved over history.
With Manu’s book, I wasn’t sure what that central takeaway was supposed to be.
The Dilemma of Academic Writing
This might be a common issue among scholars trained in academia. They aim for intellectual rigor and high standards, which sometimes gets in the way of simple, direct communication.
That’s not to say all scholars write this way. Many are able to strike a balance between depth and simplicity. But in this case, it felt like Manu was taking a roundabout route instead of speaking plainly.
His style is impressive—he moves through time periods, connects the past with the present, and keeps things historically grounded. But sometimes he dives so deep into details that I found myself lost. I couldn’t always follow the main thread. It reminded me of the saying—touching your nose by going around your head! Still, I know that this level of detail is part of what makes a historian’s work valuable.
A Touch of Humor, a Sense of Sincerity
That said, one must appreciate Manu’s writing. It has both weight and warmth. He knows how to add a subtle touch of humor, and there’s sincerity in his voice. His style makes reading enjoyable, even if the arguments get complex.
I truly wish him the best for his past and future books. But to be honest, I’m still unsure if I’ll pick up another one of his works—mainly because I fear I’ll again struggle to hold onto the one central point amidst the many insights.
So, What Was the One Theme I Found?
After some reflection, if I had to pick one core idea from the book, it would be this:
The Brahmins invented, imposed, and implemented the system of Varnashrama Dharma—not as a flexible, functional social arrangement, but as a fixed, birth-based structure to preserve their own dominance. This laid the groundwork for what eventually became the “modern Hindu identity” under Brahminism.
Whereas, interestingly, both in the book and in the notes, Manu clearly shows how flexible the varna or caste system was—and still is. Social mobility was not an exception but quite often the norm, both in the past and in the present. Even today, we see examples of such flexibility. For instance, I know of a woman who married a non-Brahmin against her family’s wishes. Over time, she gradually influenced her husband and children to adopt a Brahminical identity. Her husband, who earlier had no exposure to Brahminical rituals—he ate meat, never practiced sandhyavandana, didn’t chant the Gayatri, or even wear the jenu (sacred thread)—completely transformed. He once told me, “Your father gave me the thread ceremony; now it’s your turn to do a proper upanayanam for my son.” Since they are close relatives, I obliged. Today, this man not only follows Brahminical customs strictly but also performs traditional rituals with sincerity, chanting mantras with devotion and precision.
This is the Indian reality of caste: it may be codified in texts and reinforced socially, but on the ground, it bends, shifts, and transforms—driven by conviction, circumstance, and aspiration.
If we trace all the references Manu makes to Brahmins and Brahminism and connect them to his historical narrative, this theme recurs consistently. For instance, in the index, one can find more entries under terms like Brahmin Raj, Brahmin(s), Brahminhood, Brahminical, and Brahminism/Brahmanism than even under Hinduism, or at least nearly as many. These terms are discussed extensively throughout the book.
History Is Subjective—And So Is Identity
Of course, any reading of history is subjective. To draw out a theme from historical material is always a matter of interpretation. So my reading—that the book is about a Brahmin-centric identity—may not be the only valid one. But I think it’s fair.
Is Manu wrong in pointing this out? I don’t think so. Whether or not Brahmins intended to build a full-blown ideology, the fact remains: the system they claimed to have established continues to shape us—even if they are no longer the ones directly in charge.
Just like how people continue to blame socialism or communism long after those systems faded from the corridors of power—like Trump recently blaming communism for Tesla’s drop in sales in the US! Several ‘isms’ may be gone and buried (some, thankfully so), but their ghosts still linger around us.
Similarly, though Brahmins are down, they are certainly not out. What we call ‘Brahminism’ continues to cast a long shadow—not just in India, but across South Asia and even in many diasporic communities.
Brahminism: Still Behind the Scenes?
Even today, Brahmins—though small in number—haven’t entirely disappeared. Many remain in the background, or their influence continues through the legacy of Brahminism itself. The structures and values they helped establish are often carried forward by others.2
Sensing this lingering influence, Manu ends the book on a rather sobering note. He speaks of the rise of Hindutva and warns that now, after coming to power, it is in a position to reshape India in its own image—a process that’s already underway.
“Life did not give Savarkar all he had hoped for. But Hindutva, it turned out, was biding its time. And not too long after he was enshrined in the house of the people, having won power, it would begin a process—now well underway—of remaking the Indian state in its own image.” —p. 311
Though Manu frames this in terms of Savarkar and Hindutva, I saw it more broadly. I believe Hindutva is a modern political version of the older Brahminical project that once built the Varnashrama system. And I think Manu may be hinting at this, even if he doesn’t say it directly.
But India Will Not Be Hijacked
In conclusion, while dharma remains a central and enduring concept in our civilizational imagination—framing law, duty, ethics, and spiritual ideals—it alone cannot capture the full complexity and uniqueness of the Indian spirit. Dharma is foundational, but its flexible, even elusive, character resists being cast as a singular image.
Upon further reflection, I believe it is pluralism, not dharma alone, that offers a more faithful image of India—an insight I have explored in greater depth in a separate reflection titled Live and Let Live [see The True Image of India—Part Two]. There, I argue that Indian pluralism is not about chaotic relativism but a kind of symphony, in which each tradition, worldview, or community plays its own distinct note—not to drown out the others, but to enrich a common harmony.
This pluralism, grounded in the moral imagination of dharma but expanding far beyond it, is what allows India to be what it is: a civilizational space where contradictions are held in creative tension, and where no single narrative is allowed to dominate. That, I believe, is the deeper legacy of the dharma that Manu S. Pillai invites us to reconsider—not as static law, but as living negotiation.
A Final Word (or Many!)
So yes, historians like Manu S. Pillai have an important role to play. They help us make sense of where we come from, where we are, and where we might go.
I began this reflection trying to find one clear idea in his book—and ended up saying many things myself. But maybe that’s okay. As a layperson, I have that freedom. And maybe this is how honest conversations begin: not with grand conclusions, but with one idea that leads to many others.
If others find even one meaningful idea in all these reflections, perhaps they too will go on to say something new—and so the dialogue continues.
Ashram, 7 April 2025
1 ¹ In the Index, I found around 27 references for goddesses; a few for gods—animal and local (3); not even one for “Gun”; and about 60 pages mentioning missionaries.
2
See: Brahminism a socio-political ideology and The Burden of Brahminism
See: Brahminism a socio-political ideology and The Burden of Brahminism
and The Burden of Brahminism:
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