For decades, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh has been portrayed—often caricatured—as the dark force behind India’s so-called “majoritarian project.” Its Sarsanghchalak, Mohan Bhagwat, is routinely projected by sections of the Opposition ecosystem as the real villain of India’s political churn. And yet, on Sunday in Mumbai, something quietly disruptive happened: people actually listened. Not through hostile sound bites or filtered outrage, but by attending, hearing, and absorbing. That the RSS centenary event drew a well-attended audience—and that prominent Bollywood figures such as Salman Khan, Ranveer Singh, Raveena Tandon and others chose to be present—matters. These are not foot soldiers of any ideological army. They came to listen. And chances are, many of them were surprised. What they heard was not a sermon of exclusion, but an appeal for constitutional adherence, social restraint, and consensus-driven reform. Mohan Bhagwat’s tone was measured, almost disarming. On issues as sensitive as the Uniform Civil Code, he categorically rejected imposition, stressing that such a law must evolve through dialogue, consensus, and stakeholder participation. This alone punctures the Opposition’s favourite charge—that the RSS seeks to bulldoze society into a rigid cultural mould. More striking was his unequivocal insistence that every Indian—irrespective of faith—must abide by the Constitution in letter and spirit. There was no ambiguity on forcible religious conversions, hate speech, or the deliberate aggravation of communal tensions. The message was blunt: social peace is not optional; it is foundational to India’s survival as a civilisational state. Equally important was Bhagwat’s articulation of Sanātana Dharma. He reminded the audience that the oldest living civilisational tradition on earth does not preach hatred, hierarchy, or hostility. Its core ethic is acceptance—not appeasement, but equal respect. This distinction is crucial and often wilfully misunderstood. Where the address became uncomfortable—but necessary—was on demography. Without resorting to alarmism, Bhagwat pointed to disparities in population growth arising from selective non-compliance with government policies. His argument was not theological; it was administrative. When laws and welfare norms are unevenly followed, social imbalances are inevitable—and some regions do begin to feel dominated, not culturally but numerically. These are realities policymakers cannot afford to whisper about anymore. Which brings us to India’s minorities—especially Muslims and Christians.
This editorial argues, unapologetically, that it is time for minorities to engage with such voices rather than recoil from them. Engagement does not mean surrendering identity. It means recognising that perpetual suspicion has benefited no one except a handful of self-appointed community leaders who thrive electorally on grievance, fear, and manufactured victimhood. For too long, certain Muslim outfits and leaders have reduced an entire community to a vote bank, whipping up conflicts with the majority Hindu society to preserve their own relevance. The cost has been borne by ordinary Muslims—educationally, economically, and socially. The educated Muslim middle class must now ask a hard question: Who benefits from permanent confrontation? Certainly not the young Muslim professional seeking opportunity. Certainly not the entrepreneur, the student, or the woman demanding dignity and reform. Confidence-building is not a slogan; it is a survival strategy. Participation in India’s growth story—as equal stakeholders, not perpetual protestors—is the only sustainable path forward. The same logic applies to Christians, whose institutions have historically contributed immensely to education and healthcare but are increasingly trapped in ideological defensiveness rather than open civic dialogue. Finally, some facts must be put straight. The RSS is not a shadowy cabal. It is arguably the world’s largest voluntary organisation, with an estimated 5 to 6 crore swayamsevaks, operating through over 60,000 shakhas across India. Its work during natural calamities—from earthquakes and floods to the COVID-19 pandemic—has been consistently acknowledged even by its critics. From relief camps to cremations, from ration distribution to rehabilitation, RSS volunteers have often filled gaps left by the state. Disagree with its worldview if one must—but denying its role in national service is intellectual dishonesty. Mohan Bhagwat’s Mumbai address did not demand allegiance. It extended an invitation—to listen, to introspect, and to participate in a shared civilisational future. Minorities in India would do well to accept that call. Not because the RSS says so—but because India’s unity, stability, and prosperity demand mature engagement over inherited mistrust. The choice, ultimately, is between being permanent minorities of the mind or confident citizens of a rising nation.
