The Hidden Divide Behind the Banu Mushtaq inaugurating the Dasara Controversy

 

The Hidden Divide Behind the Dasara Controversy

Every festival in India carries rituals, history, and memory. But increasingly, those very traditions are being turned into political chess pieces. The latest storm, over Banu Mushtaq inaugurating the Dasara celebrations, shows how easily cultural spaces are co-opted into campaigns of division.

Let me be clear. I am not in favour of Banu Mushtaq inaugurating Dasara. This is not because she is a Muslim, but because she neither can perform nor will she respect the rituals of the festival. Religion is not a matter of token appearances, rituals are integral, and to bypass them is to hollow out the very soul of the celebration.

As an author, I must also acknowledge a fact often overlooked: Islam, as a faith, prohibits the acceptance or worship of any god other than Allah. That is its theology, and I do not contest it here. My concern lies in how politics exploits this difference, not to build bridges, but to dig trenches. And here lies the contrast, as a Hindu, I have free will in how I worship, and no bondage to lock my faith. My tradition allows me to approach the divine in countless ways, through form or formlessness, through rituals or silence, through devotion or knowledge.

It is in this expansiveness that Sanātana Dharma becomes essential to Bharat. Everything in our civilisational journey, including the very spirit of the Constitution, stands upon its foundation of plurality, acceptance, and moral order. Sanātana Dharma does not merely tolerate differences, it accepts them as valid paths to truth. At the same time, it also carries the will to root out forces that threaten harmony, just as the Pāṇḍavas did when they stood against adharma. And hence, the urge to protect it is not political tokenism, it is a deep civilisational necessity.

Behind the rhetoric of inclusivity lies a hidden strategy, divide society just enough to inflame emotions, then ride that chaos into another five years of power.

The Dravidianism Factor

The controversy did not stop at Banu Mushtaq. Some voices went further, claiming that Chamundi is “not a Hindu goddess.” To most, this sounds absurd. But the roots of such claims lie deep in history.

In the 19th century, colonial scholars like Max Müller constructed the Aryan versus Dravidian theory, a neat divide that served administrative convenience and cultural domination. India was sliced into “Aryan North” and “Dravidian South,” into “upper caste” and “lower caste.” It was the British version of “divide and rule.”

Today, that framework is recycled under the label of Dravidianism politics. Cultural identity becomes less about pride and more about partition. Deities revered for centuries across communities are recast as symbols of caste or region. Chamundi, worshipped in Mysuru’s Chamundi Hills and in countless villages of Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, and Andhra Pradesh, by Brahmins, Lingayats, Dalits, and farmers alike, is suddenly questioned in her universality.

This is not scholarship. This is strategy.

The Playbook of Division

The methods are familiar:

• Social media campaigns amplifying selective outrage,

• Planted debates on television reducing nuanced faiths to soundbites,

• Echo chambers that reward anger but silence reason.

The goal is not to protect culture, but to weaponise it. Each fresh divide distracts us from the real questions: What about jobs? What about schools and hospitals? What about dignity for ordinary families struggling with daily life?

The Cost of Division

The burden of this politics falls on the people. Hindus, Muslims, Dalits, all end up as pawns while the players sit comfortably at the top. Festivals that should bind communities in joy and reverence are recast as referendum battles. Identity becomes more important than integrity.

Closing Note – A Warning to the Voter

The question is simple. Will every festival now be reduced to an election rally, or will we reclaim them as spaces of devotion, dignity, and shared culture?

If we choose the former, the cost will be far greater than one more polarised election cycle. A society that keeps dividing will slowly lose its unity, its resilience, and its voice. Jobs, education, and healthcare will remain neglected, while identity battles will consume our energy.

The warning is clear: if voters continue to reward those who thrive on fragmentation, the future will belong not to a strong Bharat rooted in Sanātana Dharma, but to a fractured land trapped in endless distrust.

The choice rests with us, the people.