Aditya Krishna Deora | SabrangIndia https://sabrangindia.in/content-author/aditya-krishna-deora/ News Related to Human Rights Wed, 10 Dec 2025 11:03:16 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.2.2 https://sabrangindia.in/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/Favicon_0.png Aditya Krishna Deora | SabrangIndia https://sabrangindia.in/content-author/aditya-krishna-deora/ 32 32 The Taj Story & Resurgence of a Myth, the ideological engineering of a Brahmanical narrative of pseudo-history https://sabrangindia.in/the-taj-story-resurgence-of-a-myth-the-ideological-engineering-of-a-brahmanical-narrative-of-pseudo-history/ Wed, 10 Dec 2025 11:03:16 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=44896 Tejo Mahalay & Mina Bazar: P. N. Oak’s Pseudohistory demeaning both Muslims & Rajputs, is both Communal and Casteist; P. N. Oak’s legacy is not one of historical revision but of ideological engineering. His “Tejo Mahalay” myth and “Mina Bazar” fantasy are not just anti-Muslim—they are anti-Rajput and fundamentally Brahminical

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A new film titled The Taj Story—produced by CA Suresh Jha, written by Saurabh Pandey and Tushar Goel, and starring Paresh Rawal—has recently ignited controversy across India. Marketed as a “truth-telling” exploration of the Taj Mahal’s “hidden past,” the film claims that India’s most iconic monument is not a Mughal creation but an ancient Hindu temple— “Tejo Mahalay.” The film’s premise, directly lifted from P. N. Oak’s long-debunked theory, seeks to reframe history through a lens of civilisational conflict, recasting Mughal India as a period of Hindu dispossession.

Yet, the film’s real significance lies not in its artistic value but in its ideological purpose. It continues a project begun decades ago by P. N. Oak, a Maharashtrian Brahmin ideologue whose writings fused conspiracy, caste supremacy, and cultural chauvinism into a potent mythos. Oak’s “Tejo Mahalay” theory, though dismissed by every serious historian and by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), continues to shape popular nationalist imagination. Yet beneath the spectacle of “historical reclamation” lies a more insidious purpose—Oak’s narratives serve to consolidate Brahminical supremacy under the garb of cultural nationalism, while simultaneously erasing Rajput agency and demonising Muslims.

The Ideological Lineage: From Savarkar to Oak 

P. N. Oak (1917–2007) came from the same ideological and cultural milieu as V. D. Savarkar, M. S. Golwalkar, and K. B. Hedgewar—all Maharashtrian Brahmins who sought to define India as a Hindu Rashtra under Brahminical hegemony. Their nostalgia for the Peshwa era of the Maratha polity reflected a longing for a Brahmin-led theocratic order—one that combined scriptural orthodoxy with militant nationalism. In their eyes, the Peshwas represented a purified Hindu past: Sanskritic, hierarchical, and morally austere, unlike the syncretic world of the Rajputs and the cosmopolitanism of the Mughals.

For Oak, as for these ideologues, the Mughal empire epitomised “foreign domination,” while Rajput kingship—though Hindu—was morally suspect because of its historical engagement with the Mughals through diplomacy and marriage. The Rajputs’ cultural openness and martial honour did not fit into the Hindutva binary of invader versus resister. Thus, Oak’s project was twofold: to vilify Muslim rulers and to discipline Rajput history—absorbing it into a Brahmin-sanctioned Hindu narrative where Rajputs were useful only as foils or symbols.

“Tejo Mahalay”: The Appropriation of the Rajput Legacy

Oak’s most famous work, republished as The Taj Mahal: The True Story (1989) — claimed that Shah Jahan merely took over a pre-existing Rajput palace or temple, allegedly dedicated to Shiva and known as “Tejo Mahalay.” He even speculated that it had been built by the Chandelas of Bundelkhand or the Kachhwahas of Amber—two illustrious Rajput lineages. This claim was entirely devoid of evidence, but it was ideologically potent. It allowed Oak and later Hindutva propagandists to erase Muslim creativity while simultaneously appropriating Rajput heritage into the Brahminical fold.

In this retelling, Rajputs cease to be historical agents; they become tokens in a morality play staged by Brahminical nationalism. Their temples, forts, and palaces are recast as manifestations of an imagined “Vedic civilisation” over which Brahmins alone hold interpretive authority. Once their history has served its purpose—negating the Muslim contribution—it is re-absorbed into the greater “Hindu” past defined by Sanskritic ideology. Thus, Tejo Mahalay functions as a symbolic colonisation of Rajput legacy: the Rajput is stripped of agency, and the Brahmin is enthroned as interpreter and custodian of history.

“Mina Bazar”: Objectifying Rajput Women to vilify Mughals

Another recurring motif in Oak’s writings—and in later Hindutva propaganda—is the Mina Bazar, a courtly fair allegedly held during Mughal times where noblewomen and men interacted. Oak and his ideological successors portrayed this event as a site of immorality and licentiousness, an emblem of Mughal decadence. But within these retellings, Rajput noblewomen— who actively participated in courtly diplomacy—became the primary objects of moral commentary. They were presented as helpless “Hindu daughters” exploited by Muslim kings, their identities erased and their agency denied.

Yet, historical, and literary records reveal an entirely different picture. Rajput and Mughal cultures carried similar notions towards honour of women — including each other’s. One such episode, recounted in both Rajasthani oral traditions and Mughal chronicles, involves Raja Aniruddh Singh Hada of Bundi and Jahanara Begum, the daughter of Shah Jahan.

When Jahanara Begum once found her camp attacked by Marathas, she called Rao Aniruddh Singh Hada close to her elephant and told him:

“Asmat-e-Chaghtaiya wa Rajput yak ast”: The honour of a Chaghtai (Mughal) woman and that of a Rajput are one and the same.

She added, “If God gives us victory with this small army that would be good; otherwise rest assured about me, I shall sit down after doing my work.” Moved by this declaration of shared honour, Raja Hada and his Rajput soldiers fought valiantly and emerged victorious.

This exchange—whether apocryphal or literal—speaks to the deep respect and chivalric regard that often-defined Rajput-Mughal interactions, far removed from the predatory caricatures peddled by Hindutva storytellers. Oak and his successors rewrite a history of mutual cultural respect into one of sexual conquest.

In short, the Mina Bazar myth is anti-Rajput woman, a patriarchal narrative disguised as historical morality.

The Brahminical Core of Hindutva Historiography

Oak’s work exposes the Brahminical DNA of Hindutva historiography. His narratives consistently elevate the Brahmin as the intellectual and moral authority over India’s past, while marginalising both the Rajput’s martial honour and the Muslim’s cultural brilliance.

By glorifying the Peshwas and appropriating Rajput heritage, Oak reaffirmed a social hierarchy in which Brahmins claim ownership of sacred knowledge and interpretation, while warriors, artisans, and others exist merely as instruments. This is why the “Tejo Mahalay” theory cannot be dismissed as mere eccentricity—it represents a Brahminical takeover of historical memory, a deliberate attempt to collapse India’s plural past into a single, Sanskritic mythos.

In doing so, Oak’s revisionism advances two parallel exclusions:

  1. It excludes Muslims from the civilisational narrative by branding their contributions “foreign.”
  2. It subordinates Rajputs by converting their legacy into property of the Brahmin-defined “Hindu civilisation.”

The result is an ideological order where only the Brahmin remains autonomous; everyone else, living or historical, exists within his interpretive domain.

From Fringe Pseudo-history to State-sanctioned Narrative

For decades, Oak’s theories were dismissed as fringe conspiracy. Yet today, his ideas echo through court petitions, WhatsApp forwards, and government-linked cultural projects. His books are republished, his claims amplified by television debates and political speeches. The release of The Taj Story marks the cultural mainstreaming of this pseudohistory. By presenting Oak’s fiction through the medium of film, the Hindutva ecosystem gives it emotional force and legitimacy. The courtroom format of the movie—where the Taj Mahal is “put on trial”—turns propaganda into performance, inviting audiences to see pseudohistory as suppressed truth.

This is not about rediscovering history—it is about owning it. By turning monuments into religious battlegrounds, Hindutva ideologues redirect social frustration away from real inequities—caste injustice, unemployment, agrarian distress—and towards imagined enemies. The Rajput, whose history of honour and sovereignty once stood apart, is now re-cast as the obedient foot-soldier of this Brahminical nationalism.

Rajputs in the Crossfire of Myth and Politics

The irony is profound. The same ideological movement that glorifies “Hindu warriors” has historically shown disdain for Rajput political traditions. Savarkar and Golwalkar’s writings betray a deep discomfort with Rajput alliances with Mughals, and an implicit preference for Brahmin-led militarism like that of the Peshwas.

Oak’s narratives continue this trend: Rajputs are celebrated only as mythic ancestors, never as living agents. Their plural political ethos—the synthesis of valour, diplomacy, and cultural patronage—is erased. Their women become allegories of victimhood; their men, backdrops for Brahminical triumphalism.

This trend is exemplified by a recently viral X post  by Brahmin influencer Amit Schandillia, who appropriates the pre-16th century Jauhars of Rajput women to vilify the Muslim community. He deliberately frames these pre-16th century tragedies as ‘Hindu’ events and uses them to erase the long, convivial, and harmonious history shared between Rajputs and Muslims up to 1947.

In this way, the Hindutva appropriation of Rajput history mirrors its treatment of India itself: a civilisation reimagined as a homogenous Brahminical state, scrubbed of diversity and stripped of nuance.

Conclusion

P. N. Oak’s legacy is not one of historical revision but of ideological engineering. His “Tejo Mahalay” myth and “Mina Bazar” fantasy are not just anti-Muslim—they are anti-Rajput and fundamentally Brahminical. They recast the Rajput past into a mere accessory for Brahminical nationalism, while exploiting Rajput women’s image to moralise history through patriarchal codes.

Behind the spectacle of “Hindu pride” lies a deeper agenda: the re-assertion of Brahmin control over India’s collective memory. What appears as the reclamation of the Taj Mahal is, in truth, the conquest of the past by caste. Oak’s project—and the films and movements that follow from it—transform history from a field of inquiry into a battlefield of hierarchy.

To defend the integrity of India’s past, one must see through these saffron myths and recognise their caste logic. The struggle is not just over monuments but over meaning—between those who seek to understand history in its fullness, and those who wish to reduce it to the propaganda of a Brahminical state.

(The author is a mechanical engineer and an independent commentator on history and politics, with a particular focus on Rajasthan. His work explores the syncretic exchanges of India’s borderlands as well as contemporary debates on memory, identity and historiography)

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