After writing my reflection about the Image of India1—where I had said it is dharma, based on Manu S. Pillai’s book God, Guns and Missionaries (Penguin, 2024)—I began to meditate further on that conclusion. I had said that dharma is the Image of India. But on deeper thought, I realized something. Considering the flexible and often relative nature of dharma—which resists a fixed definition or single interpretation, though it continues to be the foundation of our civilization—it cannot be called the true and complete Image of India.
If any one word could capture the essence of India, I now believe it should be pluralism.
But this pluralism is not a vague relativism, a free-for-all where everything goes and nothing has meaning. Nor is it a moral compromise just to get along. This Indian pluralism, though it never became rigid legalism, has always remained flexible—balancing between Truth and Dharma, while still making room for the dreams and convictions of others. Truth without Dharma becomes harsh and unyielding. Dharma without Truth becomes soft and spineless. Like that famous mantra from the Upanishads says: “Satyam vada; dharmam chara”—speak the truth, follow the dharma [Taittiriya Upanishad – Shiksha Valli – Anuvaka 11 (1.11)]—two rails on which the cart of life moves forward.
If we try to capture the image of other cultures or belief systems, we might say: individualism for the West, relationship/family for Asian societies. Socialism for communism. Profit at any cost for capitalism. Purushartha in Hinduism. Nirvana in Buddhism. Ahimsa in Jainism. “There is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is His Prophet” for Islam. “One God, one Faith, one Book, one Church, one Heaven and one Hell” for Christianity. We tend to identify one dominant idea through our own cultural lens. But for India, pluralism fits best.
This pluralism is not chaos. Nor is it bland sameness. It is more like a symphony—each tradition, each culture, each community like an instrument, playing its own distinct melody, yet contributing to a greater harmony. What holds it all together is not uniformity, but shared space, mutual respect, and the willingness to listen even while playing one’s own part.
At the heart of this is the one non-negotiable dogma of India: “Live and Let Live.” It is not a political slogan, but a spiritual and cultural space we create in our minds and hearts—even if physical or geographic space is becoming tight due to population and migration. Yet this pluralism is not passive or weak. India is waking up to a new challenge—where others, in the name of faith or ideology, tell us that our way of life is wrong and try to impose a single model upon us. Whether they come from outside or rise from within, we now respond calmly but clearly: “You are welcome to share your way of life, if it helps us grow. But we will not compromise on our dogma of Live and Let Live, which is rooted in our Image of Pluralism. We have space in our minds and hearts for you, but we will not let you erase or override who we are.”
And this pluralism, to its credit, even makes room for exclusivism—as long as it remains personal and does not deny others their space. It is not afraid of strongly held personal convictions. It supports the principle of unity in diversity, not uniformity. One may follow their own exclusive beliefs, or even change them, without threatening the pluralistic fabric of the nation.
But if someone follows an exclusivism that refuses to let others have their own exclusivism—saying only mine is right, yours is wrong—then they will face serious difficulties. They will feel increasingly isolated within this civilization, unable to belong, and unable to promote their beliefs without friction. If they welcome diversity within their own fold but deny the same to others, then their exclusivism will feel uncomfortable even to themselves in a pluralistic environment. And eventually, they may end up rejecting not just other exclusivisms, but pluralism itself—and be left alone.
Take, for example, one of the Abrahamic faiths. Its worldview, shaped deeply by its theology—though it also borrowed from ancient cultures it later displaced—often runs on an either/or principle: either you are with us, or you are against us. In contrast, the Indian worldview shaped by dharmic values embraces a both/and principle, holding the opposites together like two sides of the same coin. The beauty of pluralism is that it does not need “The Other” to prove itself. Even the idea of God, as understood in our tradition, does not require a devil to show who He is. God, or Brahman, is complete in Himself. Of course, theologians from other traditions may challenge this, using their own frameworks. But this is not a theological argument. It’s a reflection on the contrast between accommodating pluralism and resisting exclusivism.
This contrast doesn’t apply only to religion. Even political and social ideologies can be exclusive. Take Varna for example. Though it began as a theory, it was never meant to be rigid. It allowed for mobility, through certain rituals or social norms. Likewise, political ideas also had room for flexibility. The underlying principle remained the same: freedom of the individual, balanced with collective responsibility to protect the core idea of “Live and Let Live.” Yet, those who oppose this may ironically see a kind of rigidity in pluralism itself—labelling it as exclusive pluralism.
Though I strongly promote pluralism as the only way a society can survive and flourish, when it comes to my own life, especially my spiritual practice and beliefs, I follow a form of exclusivism. Not because I think others are wrong, but because I need a clear direction. Our mind is fragile. Life demands many compromises for survival. So, a personal exclusivism gives me clarity and strength to stay on course and face challenges. In fact, it is precisely because I stand on this firm ground that I can accommodate others without fear.
To use a simple image: think of modern housing societies. From the outside, all houses may look similar. But inside, each family does the interior decoration in their own way. My pluralistic society gives me a home. But within that shared space, my exclusivism is the way I furnish it, in line with my needs, beliefs, and taste. The outside view looks uniform. The inside is full of rich differences. This is the genius of Indian pluralism. It gives personal freedom but insists on collective responsibility. That’s the only way we can all live—and let live.
Ashram 6-4-2025
1 see: https://dayanandbharati.in/the-true-image-of-india-pluralism-part-one/
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