Bollywood's Jaw-Dropping Political Evolution: How One Industry Manipulated India's Mind for 70+ years!

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Introduction

Since India gained independence in 1947, Bollywood has been much more than just a source of entertainment—it has mirrored the country’s social, political, and economic journey. From the idealistic, nation-building films of the early years to today’s dazzling commercial blockbusters, Bollywood has evolved alongside India’s ever-changing landscape. Its films have captured the nation’s struggles, triumphs, and complexities, often reflecting the pulse of the times. Today, we will explore how Bollywood has not only kept pace with India’s shifting rhythms but also shaped the nation’s cultural identity. We’ll delve into the influence of politics on Bollywood's storytelling, examining whether any particular political ideology has held sway over its narratives, with vivid examples to illustrate the impact. So, let’s step into the world of Indian cinema and uncover the intricate dance between politics and storytelling.

Bollywood in the Nehruvian Era (1947-1964): Cinema as a Nation-Building Tool

In the wake of independence, Bollywood became a cinematic cheerleader for Nehruvian ideals—socialism, secularism, and national unity. Films from this era echoed the aspirations of a young India, celebrating resilience, rural life, and collective progress. Jawaharlal Nehru’s vision of a self-reliant nation found powerful expression on screen. Mehboob Khan’s Mother India (1957) embodied the ideal of sacrifice and perseverance, portraying a mother’s struggle as a metaphor for the country itself. Bimal Roy’s Do Bigha Zamin (1953) aligned with Nehru’s land reform policies, depicting the heartbreaking plight of a poor farmer. These films weren’t just entertainment—they were narratives of national identity. Socially conscious storytelling flourished, with Naya Daur (1957) addressing industrialisation’s impact on labourers and Jagte Raho (1956) exposing class hypocrisy. Bollywood became a loudspeaker for patriotism, weaving themes of unity and progress into its storytelling. The messages may have been idealistic, but they resonated deeply with a nation eager to define itself.

Special Mentions: Manoj Kumar and Rajesh Khanna

Manoj Kumar’s films are like a fascinating time capsule of India's political evolution. Starting with Shaheed in 1965, Kumar created movies that perfectly captured the shifting moods of the nation as it moved through different leadership eras.

Shaheed is particularly interesting because it bridges two worlds - celebrating Bhagat Singh's revolutionary spirit in a way that resonated with both Nehru's vision of unity and Shastri's call to national duty. The timing was perfect, releasing during the 1965 Indo-Pak war when Shastri's Jai Jawan Jai Kisan slogan was rallying the country.

Kumar's patriotic cinema initially embraced Nehru's idealistic nation-building themes. Remember Purab Aur Paschim (1970)? Total celebration of Indian cultural identity while acknowledging modernisation. His storytelling evolved with India's political reality. By the time Roti Kapda Aur Makaan came out in 1974, he was tackling the poverty and corruption that persisted despite Indira Gandhi's Garibi Hatao campaign. His later works like Kranti (1981) became more critical, using historical settings to comment on contemporary issues.

What makes Kumar special is how he maintained his patriotic core while his perspective grew more nuanced. From Upkar promoting Shastrian self-reliance to Shor highlighting working-class struggles, his films captured India's evolving identity - celebrating the nation while acknowledging its challenges.

Rajesh Khanna, Bollywood's first superstar, carved his niche through films that delved into personal emotions rather than political narratives, yet subtly reflected India's changing social landscape. His breakthrough film "Aradhana" (1969) cast him as a charismatic lover opposite Sharmila Tagore, who boldly portrayed a woman raising a child outside marriage. This storyline resonated with India's urbanising youth who were gradually distancing themselves from rigid traditions, mirroring the country's shifting gender norms and growing urban culture. In "Anand" (1971), Khanna embodied a terminally ill man embracing life with infectious optimism—a powerful message of individual resilience during a tumultuous period marked by wars, inflation, and Indira Gandhi's increasingly authoritarian rule. This focus on personal triumph over adversity offered a narrative centred on human spirit rather than national identity, speaking to a society searching for meaning amid widespread uncertainty. Khanna's films, largely escapist in nature, provided welcome relief from the harsh realities of 1970s India. His everyman charm and romantic persona deeply connected with a younger generation increasingly questioning established societal conventions, even though his cinematic stories rarely engaged directly with the political climate. Through these emotionally resonant roles, Khanna captured the mood of a transforming India, offering audiences both entertainment and subtle reflection on their changing world.

Manoj Kumar and Rajesh Khanna’s movies, though different in tone and focus, were products of their time. Manoj Kumar’s patriotic tales mirrored India’s collective journey—its triumphs and its failures—while Rajesh Khanna’s romantic dramas captured the personal hopes and heartaches of a society in transition. Together, they offer a rich portrait of India’s social and political evolution in the 1960s and 1970s, blending the national with the individual in ways that still resonate today.

Parallel Cinema’s Rise (1950s-1980s): Raw, Real, and Straight to the Heart

By the late 1950s, some filmmakers were fed up with Bollywood’s song-and-dance extravaganzas. “Enough with the glitter—let’s get real!” they cried. Enter Parallel Cinema, a gritty rebellion against the mainstream’s glossy escapism. No caped heroes or twirling heroines here—just raw, punchy stories about poverty, caste clashes, and political shenanigans. Think of it as the spicy, no-nonsense stew to Bollywood’s sugary dessert.

Parallel Cinema didn’t mess around—it showed India’s unvarnished truth. Shyam Benegal’s Ankur (1974) dove headfirst into the caste mess, with a Dalit woman tangled in a landlord’s power play—talk about a gut-wrenching wake-up call. His Manthan (1976) spotlighted farmers battling for their rights through milk cooperatives—a grassroots revolution with a cinematic twist. Govind Nihalani upped the ante with Aakrosh (1980), where a tribal man’s silent rage against police brutality and caste violence screamed louder than any dialogue. And Ardh Satya (1983)? It took aim at corrupt politicians and rogue cops, striking a chord with a generation muttering, “Enough already!” These films were the voice of a nation ready to vent.

Sure, Parallel Cinema borrowed a trick or two from Italian Neorealism and the French New Wave. But it wasn’t just a copycat gig; it had a soul, steeped in India’s Partition scars, Emergency outrage, and the rich-poor divide. Directors like Mrinal Sen, Shyam Benegal, and Mani Kaul spiced it up with local flavour. Films like Bhuvan Shome (1969) and Uski Roti (1969) toyed with artsy storytelling but stayed rooted. It was like pairing a fancy foreign wine with a hearty homemade stew—global style, Indian heart.

The 1970s Shift: Enter the Angry Young Man—Fury Meets Swagger

The 1970s brought a storm of economic distress, political upheaval, and societal frustration, culminating in Indira Gandhi’s Emergency (1975-77). Jobs disappeared, unemployment surged, and the youth felt betrayed. Bollywood responded with a cinematic rebellion, giving birth to the “Angry Young Man,” a symbol of defiance and justice.

Amitabh Bachchan became the face of this movement, embodying raw fury and unshakable resolve. With films like Zanjeer (1973), Deewaar (1975), and Trishul (1978), he became the common man’s hero, standing up against corrupt politicians, exploitative elites, and systemic oppression. His iconic line, “I still don’t pick up tossed coins,” became a rallying cry for a generation that had lost faith in the system. Audiences saw in him their own struggles—an underdog refusing to bow down. These films were more than entertainment; they were catharsis.

The political and economic turmoil of the time fuelled darker narratives. Aandhi (1975), widely believed to be inspired by Indira Gandhi, parked controversy before being censored during the Emergency. Kissa Kursi Ka (1977), a sharp satire on the government’s authoritarianism, was banned outright. These films captured a nation on edge, giving voice to a public disillusioned with its leaders.

Liberalisation’s Magic (1990s Onward): Big Dreams, Bigger Bling

By the 1990s, India had taken a sharp turn towards globalisation, and Bollywood followed suit. With the 1991 economic reforms opening doors to global markets, cinema shifted from stories of struggle to glossy depictions of wealth, success, and aspirational lifestyles. The age of the “Angry Young Man” gave way to a new kind of hero—charming, stylish, and living a dream life filled with romance and grandeur.

This era saw the rise of commercial blockbusters like Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995) and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1998), which redefined romance and middle-class aspirations. Exotic foreign locations, designer wardrobes, and NRI protagonists became the new Bollywood template. Shah Rukh Khan, with his effortless charm, became the face of this cinematic shift. Lines like “In big countries, small things like this happen” resonated deeply, symbolising the nation’s newfound global outlook.

While Bollywood largely steered clear of political controversies, some filmmakers took bold steps. Mani Ratnam’s Roja (1992) and Bombay (1995) delved into terrorism and communal riots, reflecting post-Babri Masjid tensions. These films forced audiences to confront uncomfortable realities, proving that even amid the gloss and glamour, Bollywood could still provoke thought and reflection.

Biopics and War Epics

Bollywood has long been a powerhouse of patriotic and politically charged films, delivering everything from historical sagas to contemporary war dramas. It also took the element of Manoj Kumar’s jingoism to another level, as seen in Gadar and The Legend of Bhagat Singh (2002). Sardar (1993) brought Sardar Patel’s unification efforts to life with cinematic flair. The Accidental Prime Minister (2019) was more a parody-in-bad taste and less a biopic. It sparked controversy by dissecting Manmohan Singh’s tenure, ruffling political feathers. War epics like Border (1997) and LOC Kargil (2003) immortalised India’s military triumphs, while URI: The Surgical Strike (2019) turned “How’s the josh?” into a nationalistic chant..

Conclusion: Bollywood’s Epic Journey

From 1947 to today, Bollywood has been mirroring socialism in Nehru’s day, nationalism in the 2010s, and everything in between. Parallel Cinema brought a raw edge, spotlighting actual struggles, while mainstream flicks kept the dream machine humming. As India evolves, Bollywood will keep holding up its quirky, heartfelt mirror—capturing the nation’s pulse, passion, and chaos in one glorious reel.

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SHOCKING: How India’s Economy EXPLODED and Then CRASHED - The Untold Story of Boom, Bust, and Billion-Dollar Secrets!

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Let’s explore the fascinating journey of the Indian economy—how it transformed into a vibrant force after liberalisation, why it hit some rough patches starting around 2014, and what domestic and external factors have shaped its difficulties. This will not be a dry lecture with jargon thrown at you; think of it as a chat over chai about how India’s economic story unfolded.

Part 1: The Post-Liberalisation Boom—How India Got Vibrant

Picture India in the early 1990s. The economy was like a tightly wound spring, ready to burst but held back by decades of restrictive policies. The country was in a financial mess—foreign reserves were so low we could barely pay for a few weeks of imports. Then came 1991, a turning point. Under Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao and Finance Minister Manmohan Singh, India flung open its doors to the world with liberalisation. It was like letting fresh air into a stuffy room.

Before this, India’s economy was shackled by the “License Raj”—a maze of permits and red tape that stifled businesses. Want to start a factory? Good luck navigating the bureaucracy. Liberalisation slashed tariffs, welcomed foreign investment, and told Indian companies, “Go compete!” The private sector, which had been sitting on the sidelines, suddenly shone. Companies like Tata, Reliance, and Infosys didn’t just step up—they sprinted.

The numbers tell the story. From 1991 to 2014, India’s GDP growth averaged around 6-7% annually, a tremendous leap from the sluggish 3-4% of the pre-reform years, often mocked as the “Hindu rate of growth.” Foreign direct investment (FDI) jumped from a measly $100 million in 1990 to over $30 billion by the mid-2000s. Industries like IT and telecom exploded. Bangalore became a global tech hub, and mobile phones went from luxury to necessity.

What made this vibrancy possible? For one, India’s young, English-speaking workforce was a goldmine. When the world needed software coders or call centre staff, Indian talent was ready. Exports soared—IT services alone rake in over $150 billion annually today. Meanwhile, deregulation unleashed entrepreneurship. Small businesses popped up, and big firms expanded globally. Think of Maruti Suzuki—once a government-backed carmaker, it teamed up with Japan’s Suzuki and became a household name.

The middle class ballooned too, from about 50 million in 1991 to over 300 million by the 2010s. They started spending—on cars, homes, vacations—fuelling domestic demand. It wasn’t perfect, though. Inequality grew, and rural India often lagged. Still, the post-liberalisation years turned India from a sleepy giant into an economic player the world couldn’t ignore.

Part 2: The Struggles from 2014 Onwards—What Happened?

Fast forward to 2014. India was riding high, often clocking growth rates above 7%. The Modi government came in with big promises—jobs, infrastructure, and a $5 trillion economy by 2025. But then, things wobbled. Growth slowed, dipping to 4-5% in some years, and the economy faced headwinds it couldn’t dodge. So, what went wrong?

First, let’s talk about two bold moves: demonetisation and the Goods and Services Tax (GST). In November 2016, the government scrapped 86% of India’s currency overnight, aiming to curb black money. It was a shock-and-awe tactic, but it backfired. Small businesses, which run on cash, ground to a halt. Imagine a vegetable vendor or a local kirana shop—suddenly, no one had money to buy, and they had no money to restock. GDP growth tanked from 8.2% in 2016 to 6.8% the next year.

Then came GST in 2017, a massive tax reform meant to unify India’s messy tax system. Great idea, but the rollout? Messy. Businesses, especially small ones, struggled with compliance—multiple tax slabs, confusing paperwork. A friend who runs a textile shop told me he spent more time figuring out GST than selling kurtas. Growth took another hit, dipping below 6%.

Jobs became a sore spot, too. India’s youth bulge—millions entering the workforce yearly—needed work, but job creation stalled. Manufacturing, which was supposed to boom under “Make in India,” didn’t take off as hoped. Investment slowed, and private companies hesitated to expand. By 2019, unemployment hit a 45-year high at 6.1%, per official data—though many argue the real number was worse.

Then, the global pandemic in 2020 kicked India while it was down. Lockdowns shuttered factories, and migrant workers trekked back to villages. GDP shrank by 7.3% in 2020-21—the worst contraction since independence. Recovery has been uneven since, with growth rebounding to 8% in 2021-22 but slowing again to 6-7% as global demand weakened.

So, from 2014, it wasn’t one colossal disaster but a series of stumbles—some self-inflicted, some external—that dulled India’s economic shine.

Part 3: Domestic and External Factors Shaping the Economy

India’s economy isn’t an island—it’s swayed by what happens at home and abroad, from politics to monsoons. Let’s break it down.

Domestic Factors

Policy Decisions: Government moves like demonetisation and GST showed how much policy can jolt the economy—for better or worse. On the flip side, reforms like easing FDI rules in sectors like defence and insurance kept some optimism alive. The push for digital payments post-demonetisation also birthed a fintech boom—think UPI and Paytm. But uncertainty around tax policies has been a thorn in the side. Even after GST, frequent tweaks to rates and rules—like retrospective tax disputes—left businesses jittery. Investors, Indian and foreign, hate surprises. When a company like Vodafone gets slapped with a $2 billion tax bill years after a deal, it sends a message: India’s tax regime can be unpredictable. That hesitation has kept some big investments on hold.

Social Dynamics: India’s diversity is its strength but also a challenge. Rural distress—about 60% of Indians depend on agriculture—drags growth when monsoons fail or farm prices crash. Meanwhile, urban India races ahead, widening the gap. Education and skills matter too. While IT thrives, millions lack training for modern jobs, leaving unemployment high.

Political Stability and Communalisation: Modi’s strong mandate since 2014 brought continuity, but it’s not been all smooth sailing. The communalisation of politics—rising tensions between religious communities, often stoked by polarising rhetoric or policies like the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA)—has rattled the social fabric. Protests erupted, like those in 2019-20 over CAA, disrupting cities and spooking investors. Foreign headlines screamed about instability, and some multinationals paused plans, wondering if India was still a safe bet. Indian firms, too, held back—why sink money into a factory if riots might shut it down? State-level politics add complexity—some states like Gujarat attract investment, while others lag. Corruption, though reduced, still gums up the works.

Infrastructure and Investment: Roads, ports, and power got a big push—highway construction doubled since 2014. But private investment? It’s been timid. Banks, choked with bad loans from the early 2010s (think Vijay Mallya’s Kingfisher mess), tightened lending, starving businesses of cash. Add tax uncertainty and communal tensions, and you’ve got a recipe for reluctance—both Indian tycoons and foreign CEOs think twice before betting big.

External Factors

Global Economy: India’s tied to the world’s pulse. The 2008 financial crisis barely grazed us—growth stayed above 6%—because we weren’t too exposed. But post-2014, slowing global demand hit exports. China’s slowdown hurt too; they’re a big buyer of Indian goods. Oil prices are another wildcard—India imports 80% of its crude, so when prices spike (like in 2022 after Russia’s Ukraine war), the trade deficit balloons.

Geopolitics: Trade wars, like Trump’s tariffs, and tensions with China disrupted supply chains. India’s border spat with China in 2020 pushed a “self-reliance” drive, but banning Chinese apps and goods raised costs for Indian firms reliant on cheap imports.

FDI and Remittances: Foreign investment has been a lifeline—$80 billion flowed in during 2020-21 alone, despite Covid. Indian workers abroad send back $80-100 billion yearly, cushioning the economy. But when global recessions hit, both can dry up. And when domestic unrest flares, FDI gets warier—communal clashes don’t exactly scream “invest here.”

Climate and Nature: Monsoons dictate rural India’s fate. A bad year—like 2015’s drought—slashes farm output, hikes food prices, and fuels inflation. Climate change makes this worse, with erratic rains now routine.

Wrapping Up the Chai Chat

India’s economy is a rollercoaster—thrilling highs post-1991, shaky dips from 2014, and a mix of homegrown and global forces steering the ride. Liberalisation unleashed a vibrant, dynamic India, proving it could punch above its weight. But the struggles since 2014—compounded by tax uncertainty and communal tensions—remind us that bold ideas need smooth execution, and no economy’s immune to the world’s chaos or its own fault lines.

Today, in March 2025, India’s at a crossroads. Growth’s picking up—maybe 6.5% this year—but challenges like jobs, inequality, and climate loom large. Investors, Indian and foreign, want clarity on taxes and peace on the streets. Domestic grit and global luck will decide if India hits that $5 trillion dream. For now, it’s a story of resilience—imperfect, messy, but always moving forward. What do you think—where’s this ride headed next?

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A Not-So-Judicial Mess: Corruption in India's Courts

 

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Imagine the judiciary as the wise, impartial grandparent of democracy—always there to settle family squabbles with a fair hand and a stern word. In India, though, this grandparent has been caught with their hand in the cookie jar a few too many times, leaving the public wondering if justice comes with a price tag. The latest eyebrow-raiser involves Justice Yashwant Verma, whose residence reportedly turned up more cash than a lottery ticket prize, prompting a Supreme Court inquiry as of March 22, 2025. While the details still unfold like a suspense novel, this isn’t a standalone plot twist—it’s part of a long-running series of judicial misadventures. So, let’s stroll through the causes, consequences, and possible fixes for this courtroom caper.

Why Does the Gavel Sometimes Wobble?

First off, let’s talk about how judges get their robes. In India, it’s all thanks to the collegium system—a cozy club where senior judges pick the newbies. It’s like a secret handshake society, minus the transparency. No outsiders get a peek, which sounds great for independence until you realise it’s a breeding ground for favouritism and the occasional “you scratch my back, I’ll appoint yours” deal. Back in 2014, the National Judicial Appointments Commission (NJAC) tried to crash this party with a more open guest list, but the Supreme Court shut it down faster than you can say “judicial independence” in 2015. Fair enough, but it left the system looking a bit too much like a family reunion.

Then, there’s the not-so-subtle nudge from politicians. The judiciary might be independent on paper, but history tells a different tale. Remember the Emergency of 1975-77? The government skipped over senior judges to cherry-pick a Chief Justice who’d play ball. More recently, in 2018, four Supreme Court justices held a press conference—yes, a press conference!—to call out then-Chief Justice Dipak Misra for allegedly playing favourites with case assignments. It was the judicial equivalent of airing dirty laundry on live TV.

Money, or the lack of it, also stirs the pot. Lower court judges, bogged down by a backlog of over 30 million cases (that’s not a typo!), sometimes face litigants waving cash to jump the queue. With salaries that don’t exactly scream “luxury lifestyle” and career perks that are not exactly “wow,” it’s no wonder some succumb to the temptation. And when they do slip up, the disciplinary rulebook—the Judges Inquiry Act of 1968—reads like a relic. It’s so strict that it’s basically a paper tiger. Case in point: no Supreme Court judge has ever been impeached, despite some pretty compelling evidence over the years.

The Hall of Shame: Judicial Bloopers

Let’s roll the highlight reel of judicial bloopers, if we can call them that. First up, Justice V. Ramaswami in 1993, treated public funds like his personal piggy bank. The impeachment attempt had all the makings of a blockbuster—evidence galore—but Congress MPs hit the snooze button, and he walked free. Then there’s Justice C.S. Karnan in 2017, a High Court judge who accused Supreme Court bigwigs of corruption, only to land in jail for contempt. It was less a whistleblower moment and more a courtroom soap opera.

Fast forward to 2019, when Chief Justice Ranjan Gogoi faced sexual harassment allegations. An in-house probe cleared him quicker than a magic trick, but his post-retirement Rajya Sabha gig raised eyebrows—was it a reward for services rendered? And now, Justice Yashwant Verma’s cash conundrum in 2025 has everyone whispering, “Here we go again.” The Supreme Court is stepping in to investigate, which is a start, but will it rewrite the script? Stay tuned.

The Fallout: Trust Takes a Tumble

When judges stumble, the ripple effects are no laughing matter—well, almost. According to Transparency International, over 45% of Indians think the judiciary has a corruption problem, which is why some people prefer settling scores out of court or, worse, taking justice into their own hands. The case backlog doesn’t help either; with millions of files gathering dust, a little cash can apparently grease the wheels, leaving regular individuals stuck in legal limbo. And let’s not forget the politicians, who’ve been known to cozy up to the bench for favourable rulings on everything from election disputes to corporate showdowns. Suddenly, the judiciary starts looking less like a referee and more like a player in the game.

Fixing the Fixable: A Few Bright Ideas

So, how do we get this grandparent back on the straight and narrow path? Picture a National Judicial Oversight Committee—think of it as a neighbourhood watch with judges, legal eagles, and regular citizens keeping an eye out. No political strings attached, just pure, transparent accountability. Next, let us tweak the appointment process. Bring back a version of the NJAC, but with guardrails to keep the executive’s paws off. Merit over connections should be a catchword as well as a guiding principle.

Whistleblowers could use some love, too—give judicial staff and lawyers a safe way to spill the tea without fear of a backlash. On the money front, how about a raise for lower court judges and some financial independence for the courts? Less temptation, more dignity. Yes, make judges declare their assets and case assignments publicly—nothing like a little sunlight to keep away the murky haze and keep things honest.

Wrapping Up the Courtroom Comedy

The Justice Yashwant Verma cash scandal isn’t a one-off. It is the latest episode in a saga of judicial slip-ups. From opaque appointments to political meddling and a disciplinary system that’s all bark and no bite, the roots run deep. Past attempts to improve the judicial system have flopped, but there’s hope yet. Independent oversight, clearer hiring rules, and a few financial perks could turn the tide. After all, judicial independence shouldn’t be a free pass to dodge accountability. It’s high time India’s judiciary dusted off its halo, proving it can dish out justice without even a whiff of scandal. 

Here’s to a cleaner courtroom—and maybe fewer headlines! We are fed up with such headlines.

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Aurangzeb Wasn’t The First, Nor Last In The Grand Tradition of Stomping the Weak

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History tells us how brutality and suffering have spanned millennia, one act more brutal than the last. The current Indian social media obsession—Aurangzeb, the Mughals, Jaziya, and anti-Hindu atrocities—is just another chapter of that inhumane tradition. From ancient despots to colonial creeps to homegrown Hindu kings, the vulnerable have always been the targets of the sadistic tendencies of the powerful. Let’s wade through this cesspool of history. 

Ancient Times: The Original Playbook of Power

Discrimination didn’t sneak into the annals of history; it swaggered with a sense of entitlement. Mesopotamia’s Code of Hammurabi (circa 1750 BCE) was a legal love letter to inequality—justice for the nobles, and a swift kick in the teeth for the rest. “If a man has knocked out the teeth of a man of the same rank, his own teeth shall be knocked out,” it purrs, but if a slave dared defy a free man? He becomes one more toy for the executioner to destroy. Vulnerable masses—slaves, foreigners, peasants—were the designated chew toys of the elite.

Egypt turned oppression into a pyramid scheme—literally. Pharaohs like Ramses II enslaved entire populations to prop up their divine egos. The vulnerable—non-Egyptians, the poor, anyone without a golden bloodline—were expendable cogs in the machine of grandeur. Discrimination was the bedrock of the Nile’s glitter.

Greece, that smug cradle of democracy, was no better. Athens pioneered citizen rule. Women, slaves, and “barbarians,” were not eligible for citizenship. And they formed about 70% of the population. In Politics (Book I), Aristotle pontificated, “From the hour of their birth, some are marked out for subjection, others for rule.” Sparta outdid them by turning its slaves called Helot into a punching bag with the Krypteia, which was a ritual where young warriors hunted them for fun.

The Medieval Mess: Piety and Plunder

The Middle Ages wrapped discrimination in piety. The Mughals, trending for their Jaziya tax and temple-smashing, had Aurangzeb as their star act. Hindus faced forced conversions, demolished shrines, and that non-Muslim surcharge, all while he posed as a paragon of virtue. Historian Abraham Eraly quips in The Mughal World, “Aurangzeb’s orthodoxy was less about faith and more about power—religion was the whip, not the motive.” The vulnerable comprising Hindus, Sikhs, and anyone not bowing to his turban, paid in blood and coin.

Hindu kings, including the Rajputs and Marathas, were equally active in the atrocity game. The Rajputs loved their honour almost as much as they loved stomping the weak. When not feuding with each other, they turned their swords on peasants and rival clans with gusto. Historian Satish Chandra notes, “Rajput chieftains often treated their peasantry as little more than cattle, extracting taxes and labour until the rebellion was the only option.” Vulnerable villagers bore the brunt, their mud huts torched when tribute ran dry.

The Marathas weren’t exactly saints either. Their raids into Bengal during the 1740s were a masterclass in pillage. They burned villages, massacred civilians, and extorted tribute from the defenceless. Historian Jadunath Sarkar observes, “The Maratha horsemen left a trail of desolation, sparing neither Hindu nor Muslim in their lust for loot.” The vulnerable Bengali peasants, small landholders etc. were just speed bumps on the road to Maratha glory.

Meanwhile, Europe was sanctifying its own horrors. The Crusades between 1095 and 1291 saw knights galloping off to “liberate” Jerusalem, leaving Jewish and Muslim bodies in their wake. Pope Urban II’s “God wills it!” was a pious fig leaf for slaughter. Feudal lords kept serfs in miserable conditions. The medieval author and court historian Jean Froissart mocked at the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, “The villeins thought they could be equal to their lords—how droll.” China’s Qin Dynasty (221–206 BCE) buried scholars alive, while the Ming (1368–1644) taxed peasants into oblivion.

Colonialism: The Global Atrocity Extravaganza

Colonialism was discrimination’s garish world tour. The Spanish in the Americas enslaved indigenous peoples, spreading smallpox and sanctimony in equal measure. The Spanish priest, Bartolomé de las Casas, lamented in 1542, “The Spaniards have killed more Indians here  in twelve years by the sword, by fire, and by slavery than anywhere else in the Indies.” Did it stop the gold rush? Nope—vulnerable natives were just stepping stones.

The British turned India into their piggy bank, with the East India Company taxing like Jaziya’s posh uncle. The star villain was Robert Clive, the pioneer in the fine art of looting nations under the guise of "civilisation." As the Governor of Bengal, he mastered the craft of military conquest mixed with political manipulation. Clive started as a mere employee of the Company, but left as one of England’s richest men! His legacy of exploitation, deceit, and plunder lasted for over two centuries in India.

And who can forget the Bengal Famine of 1770, which killed a third of the population, yet Warren Hastings mused, “The loss of revenue is trifling.” 

Indeed the gallery of such British luminaries is impressive.  Rogues to the core, they dripped with fake charm and benevolence—truly the finest specimens of imperial grace!

First up, the British Military and Police Forces, starring the ever-so-charming General Reginald Dyer, who played Holi with blood at Jallianwala Bagh in 1919. Picture this: unarmed civilians minding their own business in Amritsar, and Dyer’s troops decide to greet them with a hail of bullets—hundreds died, but it was just another day in the Raj! Then there’s Brigadier Douglas Grigg, a real stickler for order, cracking down on those pesky civil disobedience movements with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. And who could forget Michael O’Dwyer, Punjab’s Lieutenant Governor, clapping enthusiastically from the sidelines as Dyer turned a peaceful gathering into a bloodbath? What a team!

Next, the East India Company’s golden boys from 1757 to 1858! Warren Hastings taxed the life out of India and crushed revolts with such flair that he left behind a trail of economic ruin and despair. James Neill, meanwhile, took the 1857 Revolt as his cue to stage a hanging spree, stringing up suspected rebels without trial, with clinical efficiency. And John Nicholson was a gem. He doled out executions to rebels and civilians alike with the casual cruelty of a bored tyrant. Who needs Justice?

Then we have the Governors and Viceroys, those stately stewards of suffering. Lord Lytton, ruling from 1876 to 1880, watched the Great Famine unfold like a tragic opera, exporting food while millions starved. Lord Curzon, from 1899 to 1905, spiced things up with the Partition of Bengal, stirring communal hatred and stomping on nationalists like it was a jolly good sport. And Winston Churchill, the wartime PM extraordinaire, couldn’t resist rerouting India’s food to British troops during the Bengal Famine of 1943 that left at least 3 million dead.

The British Colonial Police and Intelligence deserve a special mention. The CIDs across India turned torture into an art form. Waterboarding, beatings, and starvation were all in a day’s work for these creative souls. And then there were Tegart’s Tigers, led by the dashing Charles Tegart. They pounced on Bengal’s revolutionaries with such ferocity you’d think they were auditioning for a villainous pantomime.

Finally, let’s tip our hats to the Plantation Owners, those industrious architects of misery. The Indigo Planters of Bihar and Bengal forced farmers into a picturesque form of slavery—grow indigo, not food, they said, and starvation followed like a loyal hound. Meanwhile, the tea and cotton barons worked their labourers to death under conditions so wretched you’d think they were competing for a cruelty prize—long hours, pitiful wages, and a body count to match.

What a cast, what a legacy! The British Empire’s finest, leaving behind a trail of tears and tombstones with all the swagger of conquerors who knew they’d never have to clean up the mess.

The Portuguese in Goa were a class apart. Arriving in 1510, they didn’t just colonise—they crusaded. Their zeal out-darkened the Muslim invaders. The Goa Inquisition from 1560 to 1774 targeted Hindus, Muslims, and “New Christians” with torture, execution, and temple demolition. Over 300 temples were demolished. Historian Priolkar writes in The Goa Inquisition, “The Holy Office spared no one—women, children, the elderly—all were fair game in the name of Christ.” Floggings, burnings, and racks awaited the vulnerable who wouldn’t convert, while the governor crowed, “The fathers of the Church have made more converts in a year than all the laymen in ten.” Were they really converts, or broken shells of defiance? Vulnerable Goans paid the price for Portugal’s holy ego trip.

Belgium’s King Leopold II reached new depths of depravity. Between 1885 and 1908, he turned the Congo Free State into a slaughterhouse. The brutal rubber quotas meant severed hands for noncompliance, villages destroyed, families torn apart, and forced labour on an unprecedented scale. At least 10 million perished, per Adam Hochschild’s tally in King Leopold’s Ghost. Leopold’s regime thrived on terror, executing and mutilating the Congolese to extract more wealth. Meanwhile, in Europe, he masked his horrors behind charities, architectural projects, and propaganda. The Congo’s suffering was not just physical—it was an annihilation of dignity, culture, and generations.

The Modern Era: Shiny Tools, Same Boot

The 20th century promised progress, then delivered atrocities with mechanical precision. The Nazis industrialised discrimination, wiping out six million Jews and countless others deemed “undesirable.” Hitler raved in Mein Kampf, “The mixing of blood and the decline of the race are the inevitable consequences.” The vulnerable were erased while the world dithered.

Stalin’s Holodomor in 1932–1933 starved Ukrainian peasants into submission. Mao’s Great Leap Forward between 1958 and 1962 killed 30 million rural poor for a utopian mirage. Today, Myanmar’s Rohingya face ethnic cleansing—villages torched, thousands dead since 2017.

Systemic racism in the U.S. has kept Black and Indigenous communities trapped in poverty and prisons for centuries—a 400-year cycle of oppression in new forms. Slavery ended, but segregation, redlining, and economic exclusion kept Black Americans in second-class status. Indigenous peoples faced land theft, forced removals, and systemic neglect. Today, mass incarceration, over-policing, and the prison-industrial complex ensure the cycle continues. The War on Drugs, mandatory sentencing, and economic barriers aren't accidents—they’re the latest tools in a long history of racial control. The past isn’t dead; it’s just wearing a new uniform. Something similar has happened in the so-called civilised countries like Canada, Australia and New Zealand.

Minorities, peasants, the colonised, and the powerless are perfect targets. They are too feeble to fight, too fractured to unite. Orwell sneered in 1984, “If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—forever.” Spot on.

The Mughals, Rajputs, Marathas, Portuguese—none invented this game; they just added local spice. Ancient kings, medieval warlords, colonial overlords, and modern despots all salute the tradition. Social media might amplify the outrage—#Aurangzeb trending proves it—but it’s just noise in an endless dirge. The vulnerable stay crushed, the powerful stay smug, and the atrocities chug along like a grim carnival ride.

Conclusion: A Toast to the Unstoppable

Here’s to humanity: consistent as gravity, vicious as a viper. From Hammurabi’s classist chisel to Maratha raids to Goa’s holy fires to today’s algorithmic oppression, we’ve never met a vulnerable soul we couldn’t squash. The tools change—swords to guns to drones—but the glee? Everlasting. So, raise a glass to the grand tradition of discrimination and atrocity. It’s one streak we’ll never break—why mess with perfection?

Aurangzeb, Mughal history, historical atrocities, Indian history, oppression in history, colonial brutality, Maratha raids, Rajput feudalism, Bengal famine, Goa Inquisition, global oppression, medieval history, social media debates, historical power struggles, history of discrimination, systemic oppression, colonial exploitation, British Raj, feudal oppression, authoritarian rule, war crimes, political history, history of violence, tyranny in history, historical injustices, human rights history, oppression of the weak, historical analysis, dictatorship through ages, history of suffering, power and brutality