Dystopia,Purity and Segregation: A Study of Hindutvavad in Indian Nationalism from the Lens of Web Series: Leila

Contextualising Religious Nationalism in Secular India

The theoretical framework to define nationalism remains diversified. The definition of nation as an imagined political community is based on the argument that print capitalism helped masses connect with one another through an imaginary bond (Anderson 1986). This bond has been interpreted differently by scholars from various schools of thought (Gellner 1983, Veer 1994). India’s nationalism in the British era was defined by an inner cultural domain that could not be colonised in opposition to the outer realm of politics and economy paving a way for resistance (Chatterjee 1994). To begin with, nationalism is interwoven with trajectories of both secularism and religion. The history of secularism is linked with the role of religious authorities in the law-making process and in propounding the idea of secularism. Talal Asad (2003, 190) explains this by giving an example of Tractarianism in England and Ultramonatism in France which were significant moments in the post-reformation movement to rupture the alliance between the Church and the state. Asad (2003), therefore, argues that ‘the secular’ is the base from which theological discourse was generated and at the same time, it also becomes a domain from which religion seeks to emancipate itself towards freedom. In other words, nationalism is a ‘secularised religion’ (Asad 2003, 187) in the way it pedestalises religious symbols and also, the supreme leader through such symbols. Secularism as a modern practice has a theological convention attached to it, therefore, nationalism is a consequence of secular in the structure of collective representation (Asad 2003, 194). In the context of India, secularism is not a replica of western model with neat separation between the state and religion. Rather religion continued to be a part of public life and was used as a mobilisation tool by the different political parties to gain electoral victories. Therefore, religious nationalism is a result of activating pre-existing religious, historical and memory-related symbols embedded in the time and that have become even more prevalent with the markers of modernity (Baber 2000, 71). My article agrees with this understanding, however, at the same time, I argue that religious nationalism in India solidifies a particular national identity in opposition to the other identities. This other has been recognised in existing corpus of scholarly work of Thomas Blom Hansen (1999, 30) who has pointed out that history of nation-state originates from the other which is then congealed through intimate relationships like that of family and children. It is important to point out here that my theoretical framework to understand and define nationalism and secularism is borrowed from the works of Thomas Blom Hansen—by underlining that nationalism that emerged in India in the colonial times was specific and different from western contexts. While there were a number of competing nationalist discourses in the colonial times, the idea of Hinduism and the greatness of Indian civilisation remained a pertinent one. The prevalence of two-nation theory created a mythic reality of Hindu nation-state and Muslim nation-state. ² In the recent times, attempts have been made by nationalists to revive the degenerating Hindu civilisation, thereby, challenging the existing discourse of secularism. My article argues that the secular has always been linked with the religious meanings and practices which were represented in Indian culture—a Friday prayer or a Hindu procession was never projected as religious gatherings but rather as symbols of great Indian civilisation (Hansen 1999, 53). I contextualise my article by arguing that Indian civilisation was never predominantly secular as there was never a clear demarcation between the secular and the religion and therefore, both somewhere percolated into the domain of the each other.

Why ‘Leila’ as Analytical Lens?

In the recent times, the prevalence of series and movies on over-the-top mediums has captured the imagination of existing and future generations by emphasising the significance of freedom of speech and expression through internet-related technologies. The over-the-top mediums such as Amazon Prime Video and Netflix have often come under the government’s scrutiny for their increasing interference in manipulating minds of the citizens and thereby, challenging the basics of Indian culture (Mehta and Kaye 2021). The release of Patal Lok on Prime Video, Ghoul and Leila on Netflix has received severe criticism from Hindu extremists arguing that it not only extrapolates India’s current political scenario but at the same time it misjudges the current reality (DNA 2021). This misjudgement, from the perspective of nationalists, is more or less in favour of minorities and against the majority population that is Hindus. My reason for choosing Leila out of these three has been to examine the dark reality portrayed in the series is closer to the reality of Indian politics or not. The connecting thread between the two realities is the discourse of religious nationalism. The role of technology in regulating the private lives of citizenry further cements the narrative of nationalism in the series and the current times. The article does not merely read various characters undertaking their journeys but at the same time, understands the ideological nuance of religious nationalism which comprises many dissonances as depicted in the series. Patal Lok reflects on present political incidences such as lynching of minority communities in India, Ghoul is a future analysis of the concept of nationalism by upturning the binaries between good and bad Muslims (Magazine 2018). For this reason, Leila fits my framework of studying current traces of nationalism by focussing on the ideological and technological aspects of nationalism visible in various aspects of Indian politics. At the same time, departures from the discourse of nationalism are found in transgressive spaces of different characters of the series and Indian politics.

Methodology and Structure

The article uses qualitative research methodology based on narrative analysis by drawing examples both from the web series and contemporary examples of assault on freedom of expression. The article depends on secondary research outsourced from available literature and primary insights generated from the web series and contemporary India. I have also included insights of women’s wing of a Hindu nationalist organisation—Durga Vahini (an army of goddess Durga) based on my MPhil fieldwork in 2018. It is imperative to mention at the onset that this article does not aim to do predictive analysis of the future of religious nationalism.

The article is divided into two parts—first, an analysis of parallels between religious nationalism in Leila and India and elucidating emerging departures in the state of Aryavarta and second, an examination of such transgressive realities in detail in Aryavarta and India. The core argument of this article is that despite religious nationalism being based on ideas of purity, segregation and dystopia in governance systems, emerging transgressive spaces have become a reality in Indian politics.

Leila and Its Tenets

The science-fiction web series—Leila, ³ directed by Deepa Mehta, Shanker Raman and Pawan Kumar in 2019, is set in Aryavarta in the 2040s when climate change and water crisis are at their peak. The commodification of water as a rare resource is a common sight resulting in a world of bifurcation between haves and have nots. In this context, Aryavarta refers to a nation-state dominated by one religious community that is Hindus, which promises to rescue citizens from environmental challenges of climate challenge, water crisis and social crisis such as sexual exploitation of women, and increasing crime rate on the condition of purity (Bamzai 2019). The series based on Prayag Akbar’s novel ‘Leila’ is replete with the slogan, ‘Purity for all’ or Jai Aryavarta. In this manner, Aryavarta reconstructs the idea of gender, nation-state and technology in a Hindu-dominated society. Interestingly, the reconstructed and advanced Aryavarta is similar to the image of ‘new India’ (Kaur and Hansen 2015, 265) founded upon the narrative of muscular nationalism, venerating the civilisational narrative of Hindu culture and celebrating the achievements of the upper-class and middle-class Hindu elite.

A defining feature of Aryavarta is the differences it draws between the pure and the impure, the religious nation-state and the slums and other categorisations clubbing citizens according to their crimes. The hierarchies among classes and castes in Aryavarta are not just visible in the spatial bifurcations between Aryavarta and Bastis (peripheral slums) but also in the everyday language of the nation-state. The usage of terms such as doosh (polluted) for lower-caste or lower-class citizens and shuddhikaran ⁴ is necessary to lead the doosh towards purity. These crimes include inter-caste, inter-class and inter-faith marriages which are neither equal nor purest of the bonds. The categorisation ranked lowest in the order of crimes are the inter-faith unions, and therefore, clubbed as category five or panchkarmi. In the present times, the narrative of religious nationalism in India has cornered inter-faith and inter-caste unions through the use of anti-conversion legislations and the narrative of Love-Jihad (Sharma and Khan 2021).

Surveillance in Aryavarta coerces and produces disciplined subjects who are constantly under the monitor of the state. Every biometric detail, fingerprint and iris scan are a part of the state’s database and so is every person’s social history—marriage, children and families. The surveillant state could easily be observing a criminal, schoolboy or a wife and even in the absence of a surveillant, architectural perfection ensures that power apparatus operates efficiently (Rabinow 1984, 19). The masculinity of the state leader Joshi jee is captivated by the national symbols like the currency notes, and the statues placed in public places. The schools and colleges are the carriers of the domineering discourse of the state. The logo of the Aryavarta—a star tattooed on the hands of the citizens of the Aryavarta is found on the cars, state buildings and other institutions hinting at how state becomes a repressive apparatus of a particular ideology (Althusser 1971). The article argues that these religious symbols and icons are necessary ingredients along with surveillance and monitoring mechanisms deployed in the state to produce loyal citizens in both Aryavarta and contemporary Indian politics.

Leila uses the binary of utopia and dystopia to criticise the narrative of nationalism (Sharma 2019). Dystopia projected in the series refers to an unfavourable state of things and stands in opposition to utopia (Claeys 2017). However, many scholars have pointed out that dystopias are not always fictional in form (Levitas 1990, 195; Langer 2010, 172) and connote dark futures identified with the totalitarian regimes (Geyer and Fitzpatrick 2009). In this article, the reading of dystopia in amalgamation with nationalism draws from the bleak future projected in the form of environmental crisis, violation of human rights and a crisis of democracy. This dystopia is a result of the panopticon state ⁵ founded by Joshi jee and guarded by the ‘repeaters’—a loyal army of citizens. The internet services, augmented reality and scans for entry or exit are a symbol of technological advancement superimposed on the ideological principles of Aryavarta. My article argues that dystopia becomes a modern governance tool built on the social matrixes of a nation-state.

Purity in Leila and Purity in Present India

Religious nationalism considers racial and cultural purity, and especially caste purity, to be of utmost importance for creating a particular kind of nation-state. The notions of purity are combined to create a linear temporality and mythic history of a new Hindu identity both nationally and globally (Bhatt 1997). This mythic history is reproduced in modern context where predominantly agrarian societies are seen incorporating themselves in the larger reality of global capitalism (Baber 2000, 71). In the recent times, the goal of certain nationalists has been to retain this Hindu identity. Proponents of the majoritarian discourse, such as VD Savarkar, have argued that a Hindu is one who inherits the blood of the great race and his origin could be traced back to Himalayan altitudes of the Vedic Sapta Sindhu (Savarkar 1923). The impurity of races is created when there is an intermix of cultures and communities that are not originally Hindus or Aryans. In this context, Arya or pure race is the one who originated on the side of Indus whether that is Brahmin or Chandel, Vaidik or Avaidik owning and claiming to have common culture, common polity and common country (Savarkar 1923, 15). The idea of geography and territory becomes imperative to claim a pure lineage. This comes close to MS Golwalkar’s understanding of Bharat (India) as motherland arguing that while Bharata is a noble king representing Hindu manhood, Bharat—the mother of Bharata, is the land of all the Hindus (Golwalkar 1996).

In Leila, the Shuddhikaran (Purity) camps of the Aryavarta train its women that their cultural lineage is their destiny. The pedagogical environment of such camps is akin to right-wing shakhas which impart discipline, sacrifice and penance through different rituals. The camp is led by Dr Iyer, or Guru Maa (mother)—an upper-caste male figure responsible for the purification of women. The women who come to the camp are clubbed into different categories according to the nature of marriages ⁶ and are therefore, made to perform penance rituals such as polishing shoes, cleaning and wiping activities, and rolling over leftover food. The camp is guarded by two transgenders which appears to be departure from gendered notions of nationalism that tend bifurcate genders into men and women. These transgenders ensure discipline and distribute drugs to ensure that women oblige with the rules of the purification procedure. Women who digress from the purification norms are subjected to various punishments such as sending them to shram kendra (labour camp), forcing their marriage with an animal or even ending their lives. Guru Maa is a celibate figure who conducts exams to gauge if women have been purified or not. In this process, Aryavarta depicts two clear realities—one, a pure zone, and other, the bastis comprising the lower castes or doosh. However, as we will discuss later, religious nationalism in India is not as dichotomised as projected in Leila.

The pedagogical training, ritualisation and celibacy are some of the ways in which nationalism institutionalises itself in Aryavarta. The sadhvi culture or celibate woman in saffron-clad clothes is pertinent among Hindus and the baudhik or ideological and sharirik or physical training regimes prevalent in Hindu organisations like Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) are premised on the theory of discipline and punishment. The ideological training camps called as vargs are mobilising points for localities to forge national unity, and women to learn Hindu ways of life (Sarkar 1999). The discourse of women’s empowerment in this narrative of majoritarianism just as the Aryavarta is centred on producing a disciplined and obedient female subject. Just as the purity discourse of the Aryavarta, women as adherents of nationalism and are subjected to ritualisation of training (Menon 2010b). The repeated performance of such ritualised productions is important for the sustenance of such a training (Butler 1997, 13). Tanika Sarkar (1999) argues that a woman’s figure in the majoritarian discourse depicts how power functions as an effect and intimacy. Interestingly, it is not just the masculine nature of this leadership by Joshi jee or Guru Maa that sustains Aryavarta, it is also the symbolic impact reflected in everyday surveillance. The culture of purity and celibacy is further linked with dietary practices and an adherence to sattvic ⁷ food for controlling the sexual desires of Hindu women in Aryavarta and India.

In the history of Hindu majoritarianism, the discourse of purification or Shuddhi has been a major turning point to construct a new Hindu identity and lay the foundation for masculine foundation. However, shuddhi historically is understood as a movement for religious reconversion from Islam to Hinduism or reclamation of lower castes into caste hierarchy (Gupta 1998). These movements were seen as a useful exercise to empower Hindu male’s masculinity in opposition to Muslims and at the same time, allowed the space for obsession with Hindu women’s chastity (Gupta 1998). The Hindu masculine anxieties are kept at bay with the help of projects such as Gharwapsi that is conversion of Christian, Muslims and lower castes to Hinduism. For the lower castes, the method of ‘controlled emancipation’ (Hansen 2007, 82) is deployed to internalise the lower castes within the Hindu family by manipulating Hindu mythology in a caste-friendly manner and at the same time, making use of physical training to lure the Dalits. The project of Gharwapsi is the most insidious assault on the minorities (Vijayan and Gabreil 2015, 22) and has emerged as a policy of bringing wayward erstwhile Hindus back into ‘the Hindu fold’ (Nielson and Nilsen 2021, 1068).

The idea of commodifying Hindu women as Hindu wives or sadhvis is manipulated to embolden the cause of religious nationalism. Therefore, the concept of purity in Aryavarta is similar to what is projected in present India. Both the worlds are founded upon masculine ideas of nationalism reflecting in caste, class, religion and gender identities. The ideas of purity construct gendered realities that objectify women’s sexuality, desires and bodies to further the cause of religious nationalism. Women are not only biological carriers of the Hindu race but also the carriers and representatives of a dominant ideology (Banerjee 2003, 177). Therefore, the norm of purity can only function if women marry men from their class, caste and religion. It is also important to note here that each gender is supposed to perform their duties as designated in the world of Aryavarta—the order of nationalism is a disciplined and organised society—strategically achieved through various kinds of segregations and hierarchies.

Segregation Pictured in Leila and Parallels in Indian Politics

The notion of oneness of communities is projected in Aryavarta’s spatial realities—the division between Aryavarta and bastis, pure and mixed children, and doosh and non-polluted worlds. The primary ideologue of the Aryavarta Joshi jee has set a vision for a great nation-state based on the segregation of religions, castes and classes. The Aryavarta is divided into six different zones where movement and residential permits are given on the basis of one’s community and food they consume (Dasgupta 2019). The divisions between the Aryavarta and the outside world is made on the basis of security, purity and a sense of righteousness. In one of the scenes, Rao who is a senior-most guardian of the Aryavarta argues that we have changed this city into a peaceful place, with no rapes, no crime rate and a respect for the Hindu culture.

The protagonist of Aryavarta, Shalini Pathak is married to Rizwan Choudhary, a Muslim, and has ‘mischrit or mixed daughter’ ⁸ according to the ideological parlance of the Aryavarta. The web series begins with the repeaters attacking and killing Shalini’s husband for an inter-faith marriage. The protagonist, Shalini is then taken to the Shuddhikaran camp for the procedure of purification.

The mixed children from inter-faith and inter-caste marriages are kept in captivity of Dr Rakesh Singh who claims to be an expert in reproductive technologies and in vitro fertilisation.

Such children are advertised by Dr Rakesh as: Do you want the one with the blue eyes? or this girl with the brown hair? indicating the superiority of Aryan race similar to the Nazi theory of Aryans (Hutton 2005). The ones with the tattoos of Aryavarta are the citizens of the nation-state, while the others are outsiders for example the residents of bastis. The repeated emphasis on purity, and a warning against intermixing of communities indicates a forced dichotomy between self and the other (Anand 2005), the stranger and the outsider prevalent in Aryavarta. This is indicated as every sector is guarded, the existing hierarchies between shuddhikaran camp and shram kendra, and a gradation of responsibilities in each of the domains. Akin to the caste system in India, the Aryavarta operates on the principle of separation between different spheres where oppression moves in a downward fashion. Therefore, a shram kendra is a more oppressive structure than the shuddhikaran camp. While the advocates of the Aryavarta argue that they have built a society devoid of capitalism and commodification, the objectification of water and other resources is quite explicit which is also a marker of modernity. The scarcity of water and other natural resources dominates the urban landscape of Aryavarta, thus, leaving a filthy existence for the slum dwellers. While water becomes an accessible good for the citizens of the Aryavarta through their tattoo scans, dirty water is the only leftover option for the slum dwellers. This is also a point where the distinction between the Aryavarta and the dystopia of basti becomes apparent.

In neo-liberal India, the existence of a divisive urban landscape exacerbates the class hierarchies in the Indian psyche. The real-life examples of Gulistan Golf View Heights for the elite Muslim brotherhood or Vedic village as Brahmins only luxury spaces (Kuldova and Varghese 2017) are case studies of ‘gated romance’ (Brosius 2009) of luxurious and conveniently guarded societies. The liberalisation era of the 1990s not only integrated the national markets with global goods but also paved a way for the emergence of a self-confident middle class (Banerjee 2017). This middle-class, unlike the Nehruvian years, finds a connection with the existing nationalist forces and is dominated by a patriotic fervour for cultural dominance. The assertive self-confidence of the Hindu upper and middle-class elite is visible in the present discourses of nationalism. In the background of consumerist modernity, the fascination with national leader’s ‘56-inch chest’ capable of bearing the harshest burdens of ‘Mother India’ (Srivastava 2015) has been reconstructed on various social media platforms. The media has depicted national leader’s dressing style, manly leadership in his election campaigning strategy and a ‘machismo swagger with his self-proclaimed chappan inch chatti’ (56-inch chest) (Gopinath 2014). This corroborates Asad’s argument for elevation of supreme leader as a religious symbol—a veneration that brings religion and nationalism together. The similarity between a nationalist leader and Joshi jee as a ubiquitous reference to cure the deformities of the nation-state in the light of neo-liberal developments is quite intriguing.

The nationalism narrative has defined the landscape such that those who do not say adhere with it are considered outsiders or misfits. In the current era, the Muslims have been lynched for transporting cattle or for allegedly selling beef by cow-vigilantes or gau rakshaks. The cow-vigilantes have emerged as parallel police across India with no interference from the police department of the respective states (Anderson and Jaffrelot 2018; Sharma and Khan 2021). The Hindus rallying around ‘cow’ against Muslims is how a religious symbol has been mobilised to suit the agenda of nationalists. Cow is considered a holy animal for the Hindus, mythologically called ‘Nandi’ that is Lord Shiva’s cow (Giitinger 133). In 2015, Mohammad Akhlaq, a 50-two-year-old Muslim man was dragged from his house and killed for eating beef. The police investigations showed that only goat meat (mutton) was found on the property. Parikh and Miller (2019) have demonstrated in their study that these violent attacks are carried out by cow-vigilantes as a response to rumours of cow meat possession and the victims of such attacks are overwhelmingly Dalits and Muslims. Furthermore, the beef ban introduced in 2015 was unequally enacted in multiple Indian states to advance disciplinary control over Dalits and Muslims (Parikh and Miller 2019). The use of political technologies to discipline and punish Dalits and Muslims is a result of technological mechanisms overplaying to implement cow protectionism in India.

Similarly, another contemporary example of creating tensions between communities is the narrative of Love-Jihad. Charu Gupta (2009) has argued that according to the Hindutva ideologues, Love-Jihad or Romeo Jihad is a campaign by Muslim fundamentalists and young Muslim men to convert Hindu and Christian women to Islam through trickery and false love. The anti-Love Jihad campaign has been launched by the Hindu nationalist organisations in various states to protect Hindu women and consolidate their community strength against the Muslims (Iwanek 2016). While there is no official data to indicate that Hindu women are being manipulated to convert to Islam, a number of states such as Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh have recently proposed anti-conversion legislations. The various sections of such legislations have argued that no person shall convert another with force, coercion or by marriage. Uma and Saxena (2021) have argued that adding marriage and emphasising it has invalidated the idea of consent in inter-religious marriages. Furthermore, this has not only criminalised inter-religious marriages but has also given undue powers to the judicial and police apparatus which are functioning in accordance with a certain ideology. With the help of Love-Jihad Hinduvadis endeavour to evoke Hindu male prowess, and make a call for a united Hindu community and nation (Gupta 2016, 294).

My work on the Durga Vahini and interviews with the various ideologues of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (a Hindu nationalist organisation) show that Hindu women are objectified and considered gullible to be swayed by the promises of Muslim men. ⁹ The state President of the Durga Vahini, Kusum Chauhan, argued that if Hindu women are married to the Muslim men, they not only become our enemies even their progenies are our enemies.

Dystopia: A Tool in Governance in Leila and India

Leila has portrayed that advanced technology and augmented reality paves a way for convenient routine and cultured lifestyle. The advanced technology such as air dome is shown to provide clean air within the walls, thereby, keeping the impure air outside based on the principle of expulsion (Dasgupta 2019). The ubiquitous use of biometric technology to trace the movements of the citizens and keep them in constant surveillance is necessary to ensure segregation and purity of communities. The technology in the Aryavarta wears a nationalist cloak resulting in a panopticon state and architecture. The surveillance is not just for the citizens but for the controllers as well.

The Aryavarta constantly controls the controller not just through technology but also people keeping an eye on each other. The surveillance with the help of screening of individuals in different zones, the tattoo scans and public accessibility of biometric information paves a way for restrained, exploitable and almost-transparent society (Minico 2019). This technology is structured on the ideological belief system of the Aryavarta for instance a simple tattoo scanner can differentiate one’s citizenship with Aryavarta. The scepticism against science and technology and an elation for one’s own culture find resonance along with using technology for a political agenda. Aryavarta in this sense is an example of ‘reactionary modernism’ (Nanda 2003, 7)—a technologically advanced state with modern weaponry but with a focus on tradition and mythical past as a ‘source of direction, inspiration and resolve’ (Nanda 2003, 11). While Aryavarta may be a utopia for itself, the outside world is a tale of dystopia. The distinction between Aryavarta and Basti is that of heaven and hell, where heaven is secured with the help of purity walls. However, the two worlds are defined by the nuance of co-existence of light and dark, not as separate spaces but as intertwined realities.

In the context of developing India and the current narrative of nationalism, Aadhaar as a unique identification number of 12 digits has shown to have opaque standards with respect to individual privacy. In January 2009, the Unique Identification Authority of India issued a notification with regards to the ownership of the Aadhar, however, there is no information as to how that information will be used or misused. There is no information about the chances of identity fraud or the ramifications of this project if an outside agency gains access to the Aadhar database (Ramanathan 2015). Apart from the advent of facial recognition technology, biometric scans which pose a threat to right to privacy (Sinha 2018), there is no transparency by the state on how the data of the citizens are collected, processed and shared (Bhandari 2020; Mahapatra 2021; Thorat et al. 2010).

The techno-cultural analysis of nationalism reveals that websites like Hindu Universe advertise their ideology as a saleable product (Chopra 2008). The use of technology to radically portray the Muslim community through websites such as Hindu Holocaust Museum and Online Hindu Holocaust Memorial Museum depicting the genocide of Hindus at the hands of Muslims (Chopra 2008). The amalgamation of technology and nationalism in India has created a systemic rumour-mongering culture on WhatsApp and social media groups against the Muslim and thereby, inciting Hindus. An investigation of conversations of Hindu nationalist WhatsApp group ‘Hindu Ekta Group’ revealed how nationalists mobilised rioters to keep an eye on their respective neighbourhoods and kill Mullahs or Muslims (Ara 2020).

Dystopia in the Aryavarta and in the present nationalist India in cohesion with the ideological doctrines of the religious majority. The use of technology as a tool to manipulate the narrative of national security has been visible in India’s now withdrawn Draft encryption policy. The law-enforcing agencies in India have time and again expressed their interest to access private encrypted conversations in the name of ensuring national security (Mohanty 2016). The law-enforcement agencies have often insisted on technological giants such as WhatsApp to retain the encrypted information so that the government can retain access to user communications and data (Mohanty 2016, 2). In the recent times, these developments have taken the form of new Information and Technology (IT) rules 2021 that will harm the privacy of the users and hamper freedom of expression on social media platforms and otherwise (Gupta 2021). The new rules effectively violate privacy by leaking the identities of the users on WhatsApp and their conversations which were earlier ensured through end-to-end encryption. Along with this, the new rules have armed the government with exorbitant censorship powers to control free expression on over-the-top platforms. Such developments in the IT rules have furthered an atmosphere of fear and insecurity in contemporary India dividing the citizens into national and anti-national dichotomies. In this manner, the present trends in nationalism have constructed techno-cultural narrative to create differences between communities, and consolidate its discourse for the Hindu citizens. The Aryavarta uses technological surveillance and augmented reality to control segregation and purity among communities.

Nationalism as a Multi-Layered Concept

This section offers a narrative analysis of Leila’s three characters who seem to be transgressing from the established ideology of Aryavarta. This is where my article argues that religious nationalism is a layered phenomenon and thus, very specific to the history of that state. In terms of the series, the protagonist of Leila, Shalini Pathak is an upper-caste Hindu who marries a Muslim man, Rizwan Choudhary. Besides the incongruencies mentioned above, Shalini’s search for her daughter ‘Leila’ is a story of dissent within the Aryavarta. There are multiple instances of her bonding with the inmates of the camp and using sisterhood as a defence against the misogynist casteist ideology of Aryavarta. In one of the incidents, she protects a colleague from the Ashram by conveying to them that their ‘mixed’ daughter is being kidnapped by the custodians of the Aryavarta. Shalini’s character is pushed and pulled between the urge to help out women in the camp and on the other hand, clear the shuddhikaran test to leave the camp for her daughter. This push and pull, as I have understood, emerges as a tension between sisterhood and motherhood, at times goes hand in hand while other times the latter takes a priority over the former. In any form of nationalism, such transgressions represent that nationalism in itself is never a ‘sutured totality’ (Laclau and Mouffe 1985, 106, 115).

The mixed children are kept in captivity by Dr Singh and later given for adoption by different parents in the Aryavarta. Therefore, the vociferous advocacy for division between communities and non-mixing agenda is not strictly followed as mixed children are raised and brought up in the same Aryavarta. This is another dissonance from the mainstream discourse of nationalism.

In the search for Leila, Shalini is supported by the rebels who agree to assist her on the condition that she assists them in their efforts to bring revolution. One such rebel who is also Shalini’s supervisor in shram kendra is Bhanu—a rebel from basti masquerading to be Aryavarta’s supporter. Bhanu’s character revolves around bringing kranti or liberation of the state through Operation Unnati (progress) which is a bomb attack against Aryavarta. Shalini and Bhanu bond with each for bringing revolution, finding Leila and putting an end to the Aryavarta on the day of inauguration of the SkyDome. The SkyDome project aims to engulf the city with air-conditioned domes for which an NRI scientist is invited to kickstart this avant-grade proposal (Cherian 2019). However, the scientist eventually withdraws to work for the SkyDome as it would lead to the death of innocents. Shalini, in order to get the information on the security of SkyDome inauguration provides Bhanu with private data of Aryavarta allowing the rebels to plan Operation Unnati. Rao. Another transgression in this discourse is how the guardian of the Aryavarta—Rao, bonds with Shalini over his love for art and Faiz Ahmed Faiz, a poet-cum-political prisoner who was jailed in Pakistan for his rebel against the state. Rao reminiscences Faiz when Shalini shares an old audio of Mujhse Pehli si Mohabbat mere Mehboob na maang ¹⁰ which was otherwise banned in Aryavarta. While on one hand, Rao is seen arguing that ‘art is a waste of time’ and one of the Aryavarta’s proud achievement is putting an end to any kind of artistic activity, on the other hand, he expresses his admiration for Faiz’s poetry.

The digressing narratives in the Aryavarta speak volumes about the incongruencies and alternative realities of the nationalist state. The space for such transgressions is present both inside and outside the narrative of religious nationalism. The literature on the Hindu nationalist women has pointed out that resistance in the form of dissonant subjectivities (Bedi 2016) only explains that nationalism focussing on Hindus as a majority is not a seamless whole (Menon 2010a). It further illustrates that this nationalism is led by multiple determinants resulting in a pluralist ideological system. Akanksha Mehta (2015) through her ethnographic work demonstrates that Hindu nationalist women use visual and oral discourses such as images and storytelling to navigate an independent feminist space for themselves. My field study of the Durga Vahini has shown that existence of alternative femininities challenges the discourse of Hindutva and creates possibilities of inconsistencies within the organisation. The new recruits of the Durga Vahini value the ideals of freedom and emancipation as opposed to the central leadership. While the leaders of the Durga Vahini often pointed out that as feminists, they do not endorse the idea of freedom of women, the young women in the Durga Vahini did not agree. Such women would often reiterate how their parents who belonged to the RSS have forced them to be a part of the camp. Many of the women leaders in the Durga Vahini argued were not anti-Muslim and were eager to work on issues of women’s safety and reproductive health. These concerns certainly show a diversion from the narrative of religious nationalism. However, Sangari (1993) has argued that these alternative forces may not overhaul the nationalism narrative but can turn into another power structure within the organisation.

The scope of dissent and resistance within and without this discourse of nationalism is gaining assertiveness as we witness the arrests of journalists and academics in everyday politics. The Indian television cannot telecast a show criticising the tyranny of the majority and therefore, a web series like Leila poses a significant challenge to the extremist elements in this regime. The spaces of resistance may be thinning but the narrative of resistance is emboldening in the present reality of nationalist India.

Conclusion

The article has argued that the narrative of muscular nationalism in the Aryavarta and the current nationalist India is majorly determined by the elements of purity, segregation and dystopia. The parallel realities between the Aryavarta and contemporary India are although replete with instances of surveillance, symbolism and division between communities, nonetheless, at the same time, there are narratives of departures in the form of everyday resistance. The fictitious narrative of Leila has come alive with various legislations and incidences of segregation and purity in the prevalent nationalist India. The core argument of the article remains that religious nationalism is based on the ideas of purity, segregation and dystopia; however, it is multi-layered concept with many dissonances. The contemporary democratic culture is filled with multiple challenges with an extremist ideological politics from a certain section of nationalists implementing surveillant and regulatory policies. Although this muscular nationalism finds resonance in techno-cultural narrative and present decay of the Indian society, the spaces for resistance both inside and outside the two worlds are emboldening and challenging the ideological narrative itself. This resistance as a departure from the nationalist reality may seem implausible from a bird eye’s perspective, nonetheless, it is this micro reality that defies the future of the discourse.