NATIONALISM AND LOVE
FOR ONE’S COUNTRY

In early 1971, I travelled to Pakistan by train, specifically to Lahore and Faisalabad. This was a time of heightened tension between India and Pakistan due to the emerging Bangladesh conflict. As soon as I crossed the border, a porter approached me and said, “The Major Sahab is calling you.” He then led me to a military tent where a Pakistani army officer, dressed in uniform, was seated. We were the only two people inside.

After I entered, the officer asked, “Can you share any Indian military secrets?”

His question instantly angered me. I responded firmly, “Major Sahab, please speak to me with the understanding that I am a loyal citizen of India.”

I said this while standing on Pakistani soil, inside a military tent, fully aware that had he chosen to shoot me, my death might have gone unnoticed and unreported. Still, I said everything I believed needed to be said,  as an Indian—and I said it without hesitation. I added, “If your war against India relies on obtaining secrets from people like me, do you think you can win? In today’s world, war strategies are so top secret that even the Defence Minister may not be fully informed.”

At that moment, I knew that everything about me—my religion, my dress, my language, my family customs—was different from those of a typical Hindu. Yet in terms of national sentiment, my feelings were no different from those of any deeply patriotic Hindu.

This, to me, is the essence of Indian nationalism: unity in diversity. In personal matters, we may differ. But in national matters, our collective identity must be one. That is not only a principled stance—it is a practical and rational one.

This incident is one among many that reflect how deeply rooted my love for my country truly is.

Those Hindus who know me closely—such as Swami Om Poorna Swatantra (New Delhi) or Swami Chidananda (Rishikesh)—often say: “The patriotism we see in you is something we haven’t witnessed in anyone since Mahatma Gandhi.”

It is this inner longing, this devotion to my homeland, that compels me to speak so openly.

On 20 January 1997, a gathering was held at Pioneer House in New Delhi, attended by several of the city’s most educated citizens. The topic of discussion was: “Would Gandhi Succeed in Today’s India?”

I delivered a long address on the subject. During my speech, I remarked:

“Gandhi was not entirely successful even in pre-independence India. By 1947, he himself was compelled to say: ‘Who listens to me now?’ So if he struggled to succeed then, how would he succeed in today’s India?”

Upon hearing this, a Hindu professor, slightly agitated, remarked, “You’re criticizing Mahatma Gandhi.”

His reaction stirred something deep within me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and in a voice full of emotion, I replied: “I love Gandhi—but I love India more than Gandhi.”

After hearing this, the professor fell silent. No one else in the room commented on my critical remarks.

This entire speech was later published in the Pioneer (New Delhi), in the 26 January 1997 edition.

On another occasion, an educated Hindu, after listening to one of my critical comments, asked:

“You criticize our national leaders so harshly—who gave you the right to do that?”

I calmly replied: “It is my patriotism that has given me that right.” He too fell silent. (Hind–Pak Diary, pp. 30–32)