Hedgewar: A Definitive Biography
By Sachin Nandha
Vintage Books, 432 Pages, Rs 999.00

The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the world’s largest volunteer-baded cultural organisation, completes 100 eventful years in 2025. Two of its pracharaks have been prime ministers and its influence on the nation’s destiny is beyond question. But little is known for sure about its enigmatic founder, Dr Keshav Baliram Hedgewar. He himself wrote little. There have been countless biographies of him in many Indian languages but not based on full facts. Sachin Nandha’s definitive biography, based on long years of research based on primary archival sources, fills the gap.

‘Hedgewar’ chronicles the untold story of the man whose vision for India’s cultural revival continues to shape the nation’s socio-political landscape. Through meticulous research and vivid storytelling, this biography traces Hedgewar’s journey from an orphaned child in colonial India to the mastermind behind one of the world’s most secretive organizations.

Set against the backdrop of a country grappling with colonial rule, rising communal tensions, and the complexities of modernity, this book opens a window to Hedgewar’s philosophy of cultural nationalism, his challenges with contemporaries like Gandhi, Nehru and Savarkar, and his transformative leadership. It explores his inner struggles to make sense of his own critique of Hindu society.

More than a biography, this work is a window into the labyrinth of India’s civilizational ethos, offering a nuanced perspective on the RSS’s origins and its impact on India today. ‘Hedgewar: A Definitive Biography’ is a must-read for those seeking to understand modern India’s complexities through the life of one controversial, yet extraordinary man.

Here is an excerpt from the book:

Chapter EIGHT: 1922–1925
Crossroads

The rains fell all evening. Hedgewar sat on the porch, on his brooding swing. Swaying to and fro, ever so slightly, he stared into the darkening sky, listening to the heavy drops of rain. Something in Hedgewar had changed. One year in prison, away from all the hustle and bustle, the politicking and dealing with the skulduggery that came with the struggle, had given Hedgewar new insights into himself and the social character of his countrymen.

It had taken an hour for Hedgewar to reach home from the prison gates. In that hour, he had been bombarded by Congressmen about upcoming rallies, meetings and a complete lowdown on the state of the struggle. His brother had left him a series of newspaper cuttings with headlines about his impending release from jail. One article read, ‘his patriotism is above all controversies. Hedgewar has proven his sincerity in jail. His extraordinary sacrifice has made his inborn patriotism shine with ever greater lustre. His stay in jail, too, has been spotless.’

Hedgewar did not care for such claptrap. This is what many of his colleagues in the Congress craved and even went to prison for—for praise and fleeting fame. He came to recognize that those who wanted power in the new world would need to pander to fame and therefore it was the nature of democracy. Public image would come before integrity for many of his colleagues. The nature of the ruling classes, connected as they were to popular opinion, would be bent on manipulating the masses to form deeper group identities instead of transcending them. Of course, they knew very well that their rhetoric should always be an opaque veneer, one that would hide their divisive intent. Democracy in India required politicians who would pander to and harness group identities. Could he be part of such a democracy? The effectiveness and moral value of a democracy was solely dependent on the social character of individuals who formed composite parts of a society from which politicians came and served.

Hedgewar had bought into his own rhetoric and that of others. He believed people at face value when they said we must alleviate poverty, caste, superstition, and so on. But it dawned on him that even though there were many earnest people in the Congress, many with good intentions, the nature of democracy, as it was germinating in India, meant that group identities would only be further entrenched, and the Hindu society further exploited through lines of caste. He had become acutely aware that only European political thought challenged the ills of Hindu society. There were isolated and disjointed attempts by religious and spiritual gurus to combat ills such as poverty, illiteracy and general backwardness, but with few resources and disconnected from the wider social milieu, how effective could these be? There was no adequate indigenous response to what a post-colonial Indian democracy ought to look like.

He knew that Moonjay and the Hindu Mahasabha, the Hindu wing of the Congress, had groomed him effectively to step up to a national leadership role. He had earned his final badges in prison and was now ready for seniority, having achieved credible popular support from the central regions. Hedgewar was a known man—respected by all the major factions vying for power in a post-British India. That night, he knew he was at a fork in the road. In front of him lay the straight road into politics. A future where he would play some significant role in firstly resisting the leviathan and then shaping the country through politics. A path that, for years, had looked brightest and most likely to uplift his people from the squalor that history had punished them with. Now, suddenly, this path looked only partial. Did he want to pander to the masses? Did he want to climb the greasy pole? Did he want to harness the illiterate masses through identity politics? Was he prepared to sacrifice the means for an end? Did he want to be a political leader within a Gandhi-led Congress? Could he accept Gandhi’s negationism, especially when it came to the ‘Muslim challenge’? Could he reconcile his concerns about Muslim aggression with Gandhi’s insistence on Hindu–Muslim unity? Could he accept the gross injustice meted out to his fellow Hindus by some of their own leaders, especially in the light of the grotesque violence they suffered in Kerala? Could he accept Congress’s concealment of the record of Islam in India? If he could accept these things, then the path to power lay straight ahead. All he had to do was step onto it.

Yet, there was another path, one less trodden. A darker path with no certainty. A path most likely to lead him to obscurity. A thankless path, one in the grassroots. A path that, in all likelihood, may have been inspired, in part, by his exposure to Aurobindo Ghosh, who had spoken extensively to both Moonjay and Hedgewar about the need for a transformation in the consciousness of Hindus. This transformation could not come through any political initiative or tropes of freedom and equality, but rather through hundreds and thousands of men and women being prepared to venture forth to build virtuous character. Ghosh had argued that if it took a thousand years for the Hindu civilization to become so decrepit, then it would take at least a few centuries for the civilization to re-establish itself. This had resonated at some deep level with Hedgewar. Ghosh’s ideas, much like the man, were lofty, nebulous and unformed. There was no blueprint one could follow.

To what extent this alternative path had been formed in Hedgewar’s mind is unknown. His tendency to stay on the porch late into the night was customary. Whereas usually he would be surrounded by colleagues and workers planning for campaigns or some rally or another, this time he was alone and silent, with just the cooling rain to keep him company. His actions the following day would reveal much about this thought process.

[The excerpt reproduced with the permission of the publishers]

The image at the top: Courtesy WikiMedia Creative Commons: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dr._Keshav_Baliran_Hedgewar.jpg