This lecture was delivered at the 'What is History' regional conference held in Bulandshahr in October 2024.

A Personal Journey with History

Before I begin, let me briefly refer to the background that animates this paper. Although I am not a historian, in this presentation, I put before you certain concerns relating to history. Currently, I teach Gender Studies and my background is in the field of Cultural Studies. While I am not trained as a historian, I have always been interested in history since I was a child, although not really with its school textbook format. It just so happened that my doctoral work, as well as subsequent research, would remain entangled in history and its manifestations in our present. I did my Ph.D. in the late 1990s; perhaps it was difficult to ignore history in the post-Babri, post-Mandal moment. This was the moment when one was repeatedly confronted with the question: Who qualifies as truly Indian? Who qualifies as the ‘citizen’ of this nation? How does the idea of a ‘common cultural past’ act as a touchstone in determining the answers to some of these questions? Over the years, through my research on dominant/majoritarian as well as subaltern narratives, I have encountered how questions of contemporary politics and society are continually animated by the past and its representations.

Conceptual Moorings: Hegemony and the Power of Narrative

Let me give a brief overview of the conceptual frames I draw on for this presentation. As a cultural theorist, I am greatly influenced by the Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci. One of the key theoretical contributions of Gramsci is the idea of ‘hegemony’—an idea that allows us to push beyond the top-down, homogeneous, singular idea of domination/control. For Gramsci, culture is a critical site where the battle for consent for conflicting ideological formations is continuously waged. For dominant groups to maintain their moral and political leadership, they must renew their ideological idiom and orientation such that it connects with the beliefs, fears, emotions and aspirations of people, thus forging dynamic connections. The dominant class, then, is not uniformly coercive or repressive. Indeed, a great deal of work goes into the sustenance of the hegemony of a social bloc, however powerful they might be.

In order to get a sense of how hegemony operates, it is important to look at the discourses and narratives that circulate and find validation by way of readership or viewership in the domain of culture—a large part of which in today's world is virtual. Digital media and platforms are saturated with a wide array of information, including posts, memes, reels and infographics. This content, characterized by its ephemeral yet ubiquitous nature, shapes our preferences and ideologies—indeed, our entire worldviews—irrespective of the content's veracity or lack thereof. Yet, we must consider why some information resonates so widely and aligns with people's common sense, even when fact-checking debunks it. As a previous speaker noted, a lot of content circulates in social media, passing off as ‘history.’ How can we explain the phenomenon of large populations subscribing to beliefs and narratives that are presented without, or are even contrary to, the historical evidence considered critical by historians for understanding the past? How do elements that we might think of as conservative, or even regressive, find large-scale support for their views? In this presentation, I reflect on some of these questions—in brief, I explore what might appear to be the domain of unreason. You might well ask, to what end? My answer would be: perhaps if we figure out why something connects with people, we might find a way to reorient the connection, if ever so slightly, by way of a small shift.

The Power of Identification: Myths, Memories and Mainstream Narratives

We all have a relationship with history, mythology and sometimes a blend of history-as-mythology and mythology-as-history in our childhoods; to put it simply, the line is often blurred in the stories that circulate in our families and communities even before we go to school and encounter formal history. Let me try and elaborate. When we go to see a movie, we identify with a character, usually with the hero. Why do we identify with that person? There is something about that character that mirrors us, connects with us, or presents us with a model of who we want to be. That identification is very important. And myths and legends have such characters who draw us in, whom we can identify with. Most often, the identification happens in line with who the narrative leads us to identify with. But sometimes that may not quite happen in an expected manner; you might find yourself identifying with the ‘wrong’ character, reading against the grain. I recall being troubled by the myth of Prahlad as a child. I loved my father and I could not fathom why Hiranyakashyap, Prahlad's father, the king, had to be killed by Vishnu. After all, he loved his son and it was not really wrong for him to expect his son to place him before Vishnu. So when I would read or listen to the story of Vishnu taking on the Narasimha avatar to impose a terrifying death on Hiranyakashyap, I was traumatized. The logic of the story, however naturalized, could not make me identify with this action. But then, like most children, I would ultimately be made to believe that perhaps I was wrong; or perhaps I must try harder to understand and identify with the supreme, unquestionable justice of God. The power of mainstream education is such that it disciplines you.

Disciplining Narratives: Foucault and the Educational Apparatus

Michel Foucault's influential concept of ‘power/knowledge’ posits an indissoluble link between power and knowledge, arguing that they are mutually constitutive and operate in tandem. For Foucault, power is not merely a repressive force wielded from above by a sovereign or state; rather, it is a productive and diffuse network of relations that permeates all levels of society. This power produces reality, shapes individuals and generates particular forms of knowledge. Conversely, knowledge is not neutral or objective but is itself an exercise of power. It is through specific ‘discourses’—systems of meaning, language and practice—that certain understandings are validated as ‘truth,’ while others are marginalized or disqualified. These ‘regimes of truth’ determine what can be said, known and considered legitimate within a given historical context. Institutions such as prisons, hospitals and schools, according to Foucault, are not simply sites where pre-existing knowledge is applied but are nodes where power and knowledge are actively generated and deployed to categorize, normalize and control populations.

Foucault's concept of power/knowledge illuminates how mainstream education sculpts ‘disciplined bodies.’ Schools are not just sites of learning but arenas where power and knowledge intertwine to normalize and regulate students' embodied selves. This process begins by establishing ‘regimes of truth’ about appropriate bodily conduct and knowledge, defining the ‘good student’ and subtly exerting power over those who deviate. I bring in Foucault's concept here to think about how, with ‘proper’ education, I suppressed somewhere deep in my memory the alternative readings and questionings of ideas deemed sacred. This is a process that most children go through; as they grow up, they stop questioning. Not simply because they are coerced or punished but because they are normalized and disciplined through school and a range of powerful institutions. Foucault simultaneously sought to show the cracks and fissures in what appears solid, thereby underscoring a fundamental fragility in the way our existence is constructed and understood. It is then possible that the regime of truth may be slightly unsettled by other realities and memories that one carries. This brings me back to the question: how do we connect with people in alternative ways?

History for Everyone: Production, Circulation and Objectivity

I might well have titled this paper ‘History is for Everybody’. And that is true—everybody has something to do with history today. We cannot escape history. We need to look around us today to see how much of the conversation is about history. Everybody has a story from history, a relationship with history. Everybody chooses to love or hate based on who they perceive or imagine was their friend or enemy centuries back! And their imagination is shaped by the version of history that resonates with their common sense. As I mentioned earlier, I am not a historian; what I have consistently looked at in my research and what I am trying to do in this presentation is to examine the contexts in which history is produced, circulated and disseminated. History is never disinterested or entirely objective—it is shaped by the conditions and perspectives of its time.

The Case of Shakuntala and Historical Retellings

Is myth history? The question I hope we can discuss now is: Is myth history? Can we even take myths seriously and should we? I am often faced with this question as people point out that what I examine, such as the Amar Chitra Katha, is not strictly history. These thoughts represent the culmination of a long process of reflection, starting from when I worked on my doctoral research in the late 1990s. I continue to think about this question and the more I think, the more there is to think about; it's not a question that we can easily answer. What I present here today is an attempt to respond to that question through a series of reflections on disparate texts.

I am sure you are aware of the myth of Shakuntala. Romila Thapar, a distinguished historian of early India, offers a nuanced analysis of the figure of Shakuntala, tracing her evolution across different texts and historical contexts. In her work, Śakuntala: Texts, Readings, Histories,[i] Thapar examines how the character of Shakuntala is portrayed in the Mahabharata and contrasts this with her depiction in Kalidasa's celebrated play. Thapar highlights that the Shakuntala of the Mahabharata is a more assertive and independent woman than in Kalidasa's play. She is depicted as a strong individual who stands up for her rights and those of her son, directly confronting King Dushyanta when he refuses to acknowledge her and their child. In contrast, Kalidasa's Sakuntala, while inhabiting a world of romance and delicacy, undergoes a transformation. She becomes a more submissive figure, deeply affected by Dushyanta's rejection and reliant on divine intervention to resolve her plight. Thapar suggests that this shift in portrayal reflects changing social norms and the consolidation of monarchical power, where the king's actions are less open to question. Thapar's analysis extends to how Shakuntala has been interpreted in later periods, including colonial and nationalist readings. She demonstrates how the narrative has been selectively adapted and reinterpreted to align with the values and ideologies of different eras. For instance, colonial interpretations sometimes focused on the perceived ‘oriental’ and ‘romantic’ aspects, while nationalist readings projected Shakuntala as an emblem of Indian womanhood, often highlighting her modesty, chastity and devotion. In the nationalist discourse, as Thapar notes, ‘to express sexuality came to be associated with the socially inferior; therefore the sexuality in the relationship of Shakuntala and Dushyanta had to be underplayed’.[ii] Thapar’s work underscores the dynamic interplay between literature, history, gender and societal values, showing how narratives are constructed and how their meanings evolve over time. She thus looks not for ‘facts’ but the historical conditions of retelling/translation/reception of a particular narrative/myth/story. As a historical method, this offers critical insights into the present/context within which a myth/history is being retold. Can we apply this to our work and what we teach? That is a question I would like to ask you.

The Shifting Sands of ‘Self’ and ‘Other’: Unearthing Buried Narratives

Let me extend the insight and ask another question: Is it possible that our strongly held beliefs and ideas might have been different in the past? Would the ideas we champion today resonate in the same way, or might they seem alien, even misguided? The historical record certainly suggests that what societies hold as self-evident can and often does, undergo profound transformation. Think about once widely accepted norms around governance, social hierarchies, or even the natural world that we now view very differently. This points to the powerful influence of cultural shifts and historical contingencies in shaping our collective understanding.

And this brings us to a provocative question about the ‘Enemy.’ Is it possible that the figures or groups we currently define as antagonistic, the focus of our collective fear or animosity, haven't always occupied that role? What if the very concept of the ‘Enemy’ plays a crucial role in how we construct our own identities, our sense of ‘Self’ or ‘Us’? So, the Other might not always have been the Other. Unfortunately, we do not often get to read the buried narratives which provide us with a glimpse of another past.

Let me bring in an example that would complicate contemporary distinctions between the Self and the Other. The Ramayana is a beloved epic that is narrated and performed across a multitude of communities in India. But very few of us would have heard of the Ramayana of Hamida Banu Begum, queen mother of Mughal India. This particular Ramayana manuscript, a Persian translation of the original Sanskrit epic, once belonged to Hamida Banu Begum, a royal member of the Mughal court and mother of Emperor Akbar, as detailed in The Ramayana of Hamida Banu Begum, Queen Mother of Mughal India.[iii] Now housed in the Museum of Islamic Art, Doha and known as the ‘Doha Ramayana,’ it was created in India in 1594. The translation into Persian was initiated under the orders of Emperor Akbar in the late sixteenth century. The manuscript is distinguished by its 56 large-scale paintings and originally comprised over 450 folios. This manuscript is a key example of cultural synthesis in Mughal India, showcasing the translation of a foundational Hindu epic into Persian, the Mughal court's lingua franca.[iv]

Towards a Critical History

To effectively re-shape our world towards a more inclusive and peaceable future, we must critically examine the ‘epistemological and contextual moorings of history,’ understanding that its influence extends far beyond the classroom into our ‘everyday interactions and common sense.’ This endeavour necessitates moving past what Joan W. Scott describes as history's traditional ‘resistance to theory’.[v] Scott urges us to recognize that an insistence on a purely empirical approach, one that often downplays or ignores its own theoretical and political underpinnings in a pursuit of ‘objectivity,’ ultimately limits our understanding. Instead, by consciously bringing politics, theory and history into a cohesive analytical framework, we equip ourselves to deconstruct and comprehend the foundations of our contemporary beliefs and experiences, thereby enabling a more informed engagement with the present and a more deliberate shaping of the future.[vi]

We cannot entirely contest the politics of hate around us simply by saying that it is based on fake history. Yes, it is important to fact-check, but it is equally if not more important to excavate smaller, disparate, fragmented, heterogeneous histories that are based on memories of community, of love and of engagement outside of hate. In order for this to happen, our textbooks and pedagogy has to move beyond facts, objectivity and evidence. I would like to draw on ‘the god trick,’ a concept from historian of science Donna Haraway,[vii] to explore why the single-minded stress on objectivity might be problematic. Haraway refers to a perspective that under the guise of neutrality, or nowhere (but embracing all), hides a very specific position and thus makes this position universal. This move described by Haraway as ‘the god trick’ has deep consequences: it renders all other positions invalid and subjective and on this ground denies subjectivity, voice and presence. Haraway, in contrast, proposes ‘situated knowledge,’ arguing that it is precisely from one's specific position, particularly within conditions of oppression, that the intricate relations between power and knowledge become visible. Therefore, when critically engaging with the myriad forms of history circulating in social media, popular cinema and other public forums, it is insufficient merely to debunk them by offering what purports to be a more 'objective' account. What is required instead is a critical history, one that draws strength from an understanding of situated perspectives and strives to ensure the present remains open to diverse futures, even as it acknowledges its complex and often problematic connections to the past.[viii] If the past is not fixed, then it opens up new possibilities for the present. This is important for what I am going to present before you now—drawing on my own engagement with historical and mythological narratives.

Amar Chitra Katha: Forging Hegemony

These are some of the debates and rethinking around history that led me to look with interest at a popular series of picture books, namely the Amar Chitra Katha (ACK), that came into existence in the late 1960s in India with the aim of re-introducing Indian children to their ‘authentic’ indigenous past. I was looking at these narratives not just as children's literature, but to loop back to Thapar's point, to explore how an item of literature, as a narrative, relates to history, not for what it says which is fictional, but for what it might indicate as being historically significant.

I have discussed elsewhere[ix] how the birth of the ACK ties up with competitive individualism and the turn towards opening up the market in India. A new middle class, impatient with the post-Nehruvian welfare ethics, pushes instead an idea of ‘merit’ premised on transcendence of caste and social location—ACK's heroic protagonists from the past—legends, mythology and history—serve to embody this very idea of merit: inherent individual excellence and perseverance that can overcome any obstacle. In the late 90s, ACK tied up with a liberalizing middle-class sensibility, drawing on its aspirations and shaping it. Significantly enough, in recent years, ACK Media has been commissioned by top business houses of India to write about their journeys in special edition issues. A notable trend involved collaborations with business houses for titles such as The Tata Story and a book on Naval Godrej, linking corporate narratives with nation-building and self-reliance.[x]

Conclusion: Cultivating Critical Learning and Inclusive Futures

My examination of Amar Chitra Katha[xi] uncovers the connections between particular constructions of the past and the contemporary re-emergence of neoconservatism, globalization and authoritarianism. The enduring popularity of such narratives offers a crucial lesson: to cultivate a critical yet engaging culture of learning, educators must actively engage with the diverse experiences and community memories that both teachers and students bring to the classroom. This is particularly vital in public-funded institutions where many students hail from socially and economically marginalized backgrounds.

Instead of fostering a regime of silence, we must recognize and harness the transformative potential of empowering these students to voice their encounters with discrimination, poverty, or lack of opportunity—narratives that might question official or hegemonic versions of history and the nation. The historical example of Mukta Salve, a 14-year-old student from the Mang caste, underscores this. In 1855, she penned a profound critique of caste oppression, ‘About the Grief of the Mangs and the Mahars,’ published in Marathi. Her brilliance was not solely a product of individual merit; it was nurtured within an educational environment fostered by visionaries like Savitribai Phule, Jyotirao Phule and Fatima Sheikh.[xii] These educators championed political questioning and the critical examination of social structures, creating a space where students could challenge social hierarchies and dismantle notions of divinely ordained inequality, drawing upon their own experiences. Phule's re-visioning of education as trutiya ratna (the third eye) positions education as a tool that empowers the oppressed to understand and transform the relationship between knowledge and power. In Gulamgiri, Phule reinterpreted Hindu mythology to present a history of the struggles of shudras and ati-shudras, highlighting the nexus of power and knowledge in everyday practices, myths and history.[xiii] Both Phule and Ambedkar recognized that knowledge organization is linked to identities and valued situated knowledge, understanding that experiences of oppression can lead to unique insights.

It is precisely these critical perspectives and engaged pedagogical approaches that we must strive to cultivate today. By embracing such an approach, which values ‘situated knowledge’[xiv] and encourages the excavation of 'smaller, disparate, fragmented, heterogeneous histories', we can begin to reorient our connection with the past, challenge dominant hegemonies and actively work towards more just and inclusive futures.

[i] Romila Thapar, Śakuntala: Texts, Readings, Histories (New York: Columbia University Press, 1999).

[ii] Ibid, p. 240.

[iii] John Seyller, M. Sardar and Audrey Truschke (eds), The Ramayana of Hamida Banu Begum: Queen Mother of Mughal India (Milan: Silvana Editoriale, 2021).

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Joan W. Scott, ‘History-writing as critique’ in K. Jenkins, S. Morgan and A. Munslow (eds), Manifestos for History (New York: Routledge, 2007), pp. 19–38; here, p. 21.

[vi] Ibid, pp. 19–38.

[vii] Donna Haraway, ‘Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective’, Feminist Studies 14(3) (1988): 575-599.

[viii] D. C. Hoy and T. McCarthy, Critical Theory (Blackwell, 1994), p. 139.

[ix] D. Sreenivas, Remaking the Citizen for New Times: History, Pedagogy and the Amar Chitra Katha (Calcutta: Seagull Books, 2023).

[x] Ibid.

[xi] Ibid.

[xii] Sharmila Rege, ‘Education as Trutiya Ratna: Towards Phule-Ambedkarite Feminist Pedagogical Practice’ Economic & Political Weekly, 45(44) (2010): 88–98.

[xiii] Ibid.

[xiv] Haraway, ‘Situated Knowledges’.