Why Write an Autobiography?
Recently, I listened to the audiobook of Tamil poet Kannadasan’s Vanavasam (Van = forest; vasam = life, or exile).1 It covers his life from childhood until his departure from the Dravidian political movement (DMK). I’ve also read My Experiments with Truth2 by Mahatma Gandhi and the autobiography of Prof. F. Max Müller.3 Over the years, I’ve read many autobiographies and biographies—especially of those who converted to Christianity from other faiths. These readings have left me with a mix of fascination, admiration, and skepticism.
One consistent observation is that autobiographies and biographies are not neutral accounts. They are interpretations—efforts to make sense of a life. In Christian autobiographies/biographies, especially, there’s often a subtle (or not-so-subtle) missiological overtone: the narrative is shaped around a theological or evangelistic message. This is perhaps inevitable in a missionary-oriented religion, but it raises questions about what gets emphasized or omitted.
I once remarked, when asked about the difference between the Gospels and the rest of the New Testament, “The Gospels are biographies, and the rest are autobiographies.” That difference matters. Who tells the story—and why—affects everything.
In contrast, writing autobiography is not a traditional literary genre in Indian culture. Biographical writings about saints or acharyas often fall into the category of hagiography, not history—emphasizing miracles and idealization rather than everyday reality.4 When Indians began writing autobiographies in the modern period, non-Christian authors generally avoided overt theological agendas, but even their accounts remain interpretive in nature.5 No autobiography can be a perfect mirror.
Struggles of Self-Disclosure
This doesn’t mean autobiographies are dishonest. On the contrary, I find them compelling—not because they present perfect facts, but because they expose inner struggles, longings, and search for meaning. When I read Prof. Max Müller’s Autobiography, it wasn’t the chronology of events that stayed with me—it was the final chapter, “A Confession.”6 There, I felt as though he had given voice to things I have long felt but could never express so clearly. His thoughts on writing, relationships, and even academic networking struck a deep chord.
Müller once said, “No sensible man ought to care about posthumous praise or posthumous blame. Enough for the day is the evil thereof.”7 That perspective is freeing. Writing one’s story is not about applause or self-defense—it’s about witnessing honestly to one’s own journey. Müller even noted that in Germany, authors sometimes wrote their own book reviews—because who better understands a book than its author?8 Interestingly, I once wrote a review of my first book long ago—but I never shared it with anyone.
Still, writing about oneself is risky. One may be accused of egotism or, if too honest, exhibitionism.9 The Indian sociologist M.N. Srinivas warned of the difficulty in avoiding “the Scylla of egotism and the Charybdis of undue modesty.”10 To tell the truth without vanity, to be modest without self-deception—that is a tightrope walk.
The Indian Context: Absence of Autobiography
Why is autobiography so rare in traditional Indian literature? Classical Sanskrit traditions emphasized teachings, not personal histories.11 The lives of spiritual figures quickly turned into sacred legends—full of awe and mystery, not vulnerability and failure. Perhaps it stems from a worldview that emphasizes the soul’s immortality over the body’s impermanence. Or perhaps from a culture that prizes collective identity—caste, clan, and community—over individual expression.12
Whatever the reason, the act of writing a personal story, flaws and all, is still seen as unfamiliar or even inappropriate. That makes the autobiographies we do have—by figures like Gandhi or Kannadasan—all the more valuable.
Biography as Judgment
Biographers, too, carry a burden. Elisabeth Elliot once wrote that every biography is a judgment13—on the subject, on the biographer, and on those associated with the story. The tension between fact and hagiography, especially in religious biographies, reminds us that history is never neutral. For example, modern accounts of Ramanuja often blend sacred devotion with historical narrative, making it hard to separate spiritual truth from historical fact.14
Though often portrayed as a reformer—especially for including non-Brahmins in the bhakti tradition and allowing them participation in temple rituals that were once the exclusive domain of Brahmins—some scholars argue that, in his philosophical writings on Vishishtadvaita, Ramanuja still upheld caste hierarchies, either explicitly or subtly. This is not the place to examine that debate in detail, but it would certainly make for an insightful study—one that reveals how history is rarely neutral.15 [See Part Two more on this]
For this reason, I believe:
Every autobiography is, in some sense, a lie. And every biography, a half-truth.
But if that is the case, it is still better to tell our own lies than to allow others to deliver their half-truths about us. Why? Because the distortions of others can be more dangerous than the self-deceptions we acknowledge.
Personal Reflections
For me, sharing one’s story isn’t about self-glorification, but about honesty, humility, and perhaps a sense of responsibility. It’s about making sense of one’s journey—and maybe offering insight to others who might walk a similar path. Life’s true trophies aren’t outward achievements, but inner transformations that endure after everything else fades.16 And those who read any autobiography or biography might glimpse the real, messy, beautiful human experience beneath the surface.
The Problem of Contextual Interpretation
Even the most honest autobiographies cannot escape the filter of their times. Take Kannadasan, for instance. He did not shy away from confessing his moral failures—but he could not fully explain the reasons behind them. His account is brave, but not exhaustive. The same is true for Gandhi. In My Experiments with Truth, he makes a noble attempt at self-disclosure. Yet scholars have since uncovered aspects of his life that he chose not to share or perhaps did not see clearly himself.
When I read Great Soul: Mahatma Gandhi and His Struggle with India by Joseph Lelyveld17, I discovered incidents and insights I had never come across before. And yet, I continue to call him Mahatmaji—not out of habit, but with reverence. He remains one of my gurus. That doesn’t prevent me from acknowledging his contradictions.
The opening pages of Lelyveld’s book quote Gandhi saying:
“For men like me, you have to measure them not by the rare moments of greatness in their lives, but by the amount of dust they collect on their feet in the course of life’s journey.”18
And Lelyveld adds:
“The more I delved into Indian politics, the more I found myself pondering the seeming disconnect between Gandhi’s teachings on social issues and the priorities of the next generation… Yet it was hard to say what remained of him beyond his nimbus.”19
These insights reveal a deeper truth: every generation reinterprets historical figures through its own lenses—of ideology, prejudice, and need. Gandhi’s philosophy of ahimsa was a transformative tool during the struggle for independence. But its relevance today is judged by its fit with present realities.
For instance, October 2nd is celebrated as the International Day of Non-Violence. Yet in 2007, during the military crackdown on pro-democracy protests in Myanmar—including attacks on civilians and monks—the Indian government remained silent. Domestic political concerns took precedence. This selective invocation of Gandhi’s legacy shows how contemporary priorities reshape our memory of the past.
In recent times, even Gandhi’s reputation has come under attack. Some now label him a traitor for “pampering Muslims” or “failing to prevent Partition.” A few even celebrate Nathuram Godse, his assassin, as a Hindu hero. These critics refuse to call him Mahatma or even Gandhiji—referring to him only as Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, stripping away the reverence that once clothed his name.
This article is not about Gandhi’s legacy per se. Rather, it highlights a key point: every retelling is also a reinterpretation. Whether by others or ourselves, the stories we tell are shaped by our time, place, and purpose.
In Conclusion
Autobiographies and biographies are bridges—between memory and history, between personal truth and collective memory. They cannot be entirely true, but they can be deeply meaningful. They remind us that behind every public figure is a private journey—full of contradictions, courage, weakness, and grace. And sometimes, only the person themselves can begin to tell that story with real honesty.
Notes
1 Kannadasan, Vanavasam, 65 Parts, https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLW2HF6w9iWdSaLsb5YN9PGdagYqbX7kKl&si=8DCwCQ6N0fhFmPc0
2 Mohandas K. Gandhi, Autobiography, The Story of My Experiments with Truth, translated by Mahadev Desai, Dover Publications, Inc., New York, 1983.
3 F. Max Müller, MY Autobiography: A Fragment, Chaukhambha Orientalia, 1974, p. 2.
4 Unlike the novel, biography and autobiography are more simply unremarkable in relation to the tradition and the figure of the pandit. What dominates these genres is really hagiography. The story of a life quickly turns into a celebration of the fantastic and the miraculous—as with Ramakrishna Paramahansa, Ramana Maharshi, and Sri Aurobindo. A singular historic individual’s life experience and reflections are apotheosized into ‘spiritual’ obfuscations or mystified distance; they dogmatize the transcendent.— Translator’s Introduction: The Ends of Learning—Tradition and the Problem of Inheritance in Rani Siva Sankara Sarma, The Last Brahmin: Life and Reflections of a Modern-day Sanskrit Pandit.. Translated by D. Venkat Rao. Ranikhet. Permanent Black. (2007) First paperback 2012. . Originally published in Telugu, edited by Aruna and Sauda (Hyderabad: New Syllabus, 2002). p. 7
5 See some of the modern writings:
Autobiography as a Way of Writing History: Personal Narratives from Kerala and the Inhabitation of Modernity. Udaya Kumar. Pp. 418-448, in, Raziuddin Aquil & Partha Chatterjee, ed. History in the Vernaculr, Ranikhet, Permanent Black, (2008), Third impression 2015, pp. 436-37
A Book of Her Own, A Life of Her Own: The Autobiography of a Nineteenth-Century Woman. Tanika Sarkar. Pp. 33-65, in, Dilip M. Menon, Cultural History of Modern India, Hydrabad, Orient BlackSwan 2017
Mythily Sivaraman, Fragments of Life: a family memoir, New Delhi, Zubaan, an Imprint of Kali for Women, 2006, p. 179
6 Muller, op. cit. Confession, pp. 297-306
7 Muller, ibid. p. 2
8. ibid. p. 6
9 Kane, P. V. (1962). History of Dharmaśāstra, Vol. V, Part II. Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute. Epilogue, p. 1.(bibliaimpex.com)P. V. Kane, History of Dharmasastras, Epilogue, p. 1
10 A. M. Shah, Foreword, in M. N. Srinivas, Collected Essays, New Delhi, Oxford University Press, (2002) Paperbacks 2004. p. xii.
11…The most intriguing part of the Sanskrit tradition is that neither in its cultures of memory nor in its recorded material are there any account of its makers: as if by rule the tradition erases the biographical. Although replete with the names of pandits and gurus, there are hardly any sustained accounts of the lives of these creators and disseminators of the heritage. Nor has the genre of autobiography a place in these millennial traditions.— D. Venkat Rao.. op. cit. p. 5
13 It is an awesome burden which the biographer takes up. Whatever he does will be a judgement—upon the subject most obviously, upon the biographer himself, and upon any who were associated with the subject….— Elisabeth Elliot, Who Shall Ascend: The Life of R. Kenneth Strachan of Costa Rica, New York, Happer & Row, 1968, p. xi.
15 For more scholarly discussion, see: Cyril Veliath S.J., The Mysticism of Ramanuja, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1993, p. 111; Notes no. 54, p. 124; and p. 181.]
16 Dayanand Bharati, “Still Remain Trophies,” blog post, https://dayanandbharati.in/still-remain-trophies/
17 Joseph Lelyveld, Great Soul: Mahatma Gandhi and His Struggle with India by Joseph Lelyveld (HarperCollins India, 2011
18 Gandhi (1947), to Nirmal Kumar Bose, cited in Bhikhu Parekh, Colonialism, Tradition, and Reform, Rev. Ed., 1999, p. 272. (quoted by Joseph Lelyveld, Great Soul, p. vii)
19 Great Soul, op. cit. p. xii
Leave a Reply