“O son of Pṛthā, those who take shelter in Me, though they be of lower birth – women, vaiśyas [merchants] and śūdras [workers] – can attain the supreme destination.” – Bhagavada Gita 9:32
The caste system in India, particularly within Hinduism, remains one of the most painful realities of our society. While hierarchical divisions exist across the world, the complexity and persistence of caste in India are remarkable. Even today, despite modern education and democracy, its shadow lingers over social life. The deep interlinking of this system with religion and culture makes it difficult for the government, or any reformist effort, to uproot it completely. It continues to be a significant source of misery, bitterness, and division among different sections of society. Some people argue that the caste system, as we know it, was a product of British classification. But the caste I refer to here is not the one found in constitutional laws or colonial censuses. I speak of the Varna system of Hinduism, the ideological foundation that has shaped Indian social behavior for centuries, and its relevance, or rather its consequences, in modern times.
In ancient India, the Varna system might have been conceived as a social framework based on virtues and duties rather than birth. Some scholars even claim that one’s caste was determined by their consciousness, character, or moral quality. Yet over time, this system hardened into an inherited hierarchy, largely due to socio-economic stratification and power consolidation. The tensions between castes, though somewhat diminished in urban spaces, still persist subtly in semi-urban areas and are strongly evident in rural life. It is not always open hostility, but rather an instinctive sense of superiority that people unconsciously assert upon one another. These tendencies are especially pronounced in the older generations, up to Generation Y, whereas Generation Z and those younger seem less burdened by these divisions. At least, that has been my observation. Among the so-called upper castes, Brahmins, Kshatriyas, and Vaishyas, there exists a silent rivalry for social and material dominance. They compete in status, education, business, and even in population strength. Marriage, too, remains largely confined within caste boundaries, as if to preserve the purity or continuity of each group’s lineage. Ironically, ancient texts like the Vedas permitted and even encouraged inter-caste marriages, recognizing their social benefits, a flexibility that later generations abandoned.
History bears witness to the suffering caused by caste. Even before colonialism, caste-based discrimination had taken deep root. During the time of Emperor Ashoka, for instance, Brahmins and Buddhists often clashed due to ideological differences. The Brahmins viewed Buddhism as a threat to Vedic order, accusing Buddhists of being nāstik, vidharmi, and adharmi, unbelievers and heretics. Ashoka, moved by the teachings of the Buddha, converted to Buddhism and sent emissaries to distant lands like China, Japan, Ceylon, and Afghanistan. Centuries later, Dr. Bhimrao Ambedkar, the chief architect of India’s Constitution, followed a similar path. Disillusioned by caste oppression, he too embraced Buddhism, leading mass conversions to free his people from the grip of social persecution. Even during the Mughal era, many lower-caste Hindus converted to Islam, not out of coercion but to escape discrimination and gain access to education and employment. Conversion, for many, became a means of survival and dignity.
Of course, not all upper-caste individuals were oppressors. The reality has always been more nuanced. Yet the perception of inequality, once formed, seldom fades, especially in societies where education and awareness do not reach everyone equally. Sadly, caste today has found a new home in politics. Politicians exploit it to divide and consolidate vote banks. Promises of free rations, jobs, or welfare often serve as instruments of manipulation rather than reform. Once elections are over, the very people they claim to uplift are forgotten. In India, political battles are rarely fought purely on social or economic ideals; they are fought on the subtle lines of caste allegiance and community identity. The moral and intellectual courage needed to transcend these divisions is often missing in our public life.
The framers of our Constitution were visionaries who had seen both the brutality of colonization and the enlightenment of modern education. Their ideals of democracy, secularism, and socialism were revolutionary precisely because they understood India’s fractures. We owe much to their foresight, their ability to imagine an India where birth would not determine destiny. During the colonial period, there were also many voices from abroad who sympathized with India’s struggles. Kind-hearted individuals from Europe, China, and elsewhere offered their support during famines and crises. Philosophers like Bertrand Russell, for instance, were outspoken critics of imperialism and advocates of human equality. Their empathy reminds us that moral conscience transcends borders.
As I reflect on the caste system today, I realize that while laws may change, the deeper transformation must occur in the human mind. The sense of hierarchy, of being superior or inferior by birth, cannot be erased merely through legal frameworks. It must dissolve through education, compassion, and spiritual awakening. India’s story has always been one of contradictions: faith and reason, unity and division, progress and prejudice. Yet I remain hopeful that the generations to come will see caste not as destiny but as a relic of the past, something to learn from, not live by. For only when we outgrow the invisible walls within us can we truly claim to be a free and civilized nation.
Notice – This article is a chapter from Glimpses of My Worldview (2025). It is being republished here on my blog as part of a complete serialization of the work.