Book Review
“Democracy evolves where freedom is able to determine its own policy”
— John Dos Passos, The Ground We Stand On, 1941
Siddhartha Deb’s Twilight Prisoners: The Rise of the Hindu Right and The Fall of India, published by Haymarket Books in 2024, is an urgent, incisive exploration of India’s socio-political transformation under Hindu nationalism. Deb, based in Harlem but with deep roots in India, weaves a compelling narrative that examines the erosion of democracy, economic exploitation, and the manipulation of identity politics in the world’s largest democracy. His approach —shaped by his longlisting for the International Dublin Literary Award, a shortlist for the Orwell Prize, and the PEN Open Prize—combines historical analysis, journalism, and personal stories, resonating with readers who value diverse perspectives on global politics.
“I have been writing about Hindu nationalism and India for a long time,” begins the account, cutting through the pretence of global power politics. For years, Hindu fundamentalism was a sideshow, conveniently ignored by Western editors eager to frame India as a neoliberal darling in the global war on terror. The “yogic credentials” and anti-Communist posture of India’s right-wing acted as a gloss over deeper links to European fascism—a fact that barely ruffled editorial brows, asserts Deb.
Deb’s previous book, The Beautiful and the Damned: A Portrait of the New India (2011) explored the link between Hindu nationalism and neoliberalism, exposing the violence beneath India’s consumerist facade. This new work captures the past decade’s shift from hopeful promise to authoritarian decline as India’s Shining narrative fades into a polluted, unending twilight.
The book is a critical lens into India’s internal struggles and the rise of nationalism and authoritarianism that threaten democratic societies worldwide. Yet, Deb’s work serves as a cautionary tale, showing how fragile these values can be when faced with economic precarity, identity politics, and the spectre of authoritarianism.
Tracing a Literary Tradition of Critique
Pankaj Mishra, the U.K.-based Indian writer and the 2024 laureate of the Weston International Award, once alluded to contemporary India’s economic boom and social doom to the Gilded Age in America. Pointing to the Gilded Age, roughly spanning the late 19th century to the early 20th century, was marked by rapid industrialization, economic growth, and vast social inequalities, he foregrounded how the Writers during and after this Gilded Age period often critiqued American society’s excesses, corruption, and class divide.
John Dos Passos, one of these writers, channels the disillusionment of the Gilded Age, exposing capitalism’s failures and the hollow promises of the American Dream. His early 20th-century works, shaped by economic divides and societal shifts, use a fragmented modernist style—melding fiction with biographical sketches, news fragments, and stream-of-consciousness reflections. This technique captures the echoes of 19th-century inequality and political corruption, crafting a vivid bridge between the era’s opulence and the stark realities of modern America, revealing a nation perpetually wrestling with its contradictions.
The shadow of John Dos Passos looms large over Deb’s work. Dos Passos, an incisive chronicler of America’s Gilded Age, used his fragmented, modernist style to expose the socio-economic divides and political corruption of early 20th-century America. In works like Manhattan Transfer and the U.S.A. trilogy, he captured the hollow promises of the American Dream and the alienation of urban life amidst rampant industrialization. Deb channels this legacy but with a 21st-century focus on India, where the rise of Hindu nationalism mirrors America’s past crises. His writing is both a continuation and an expansion of the critical tradition Dos Passos established, examining how the ideals of progress can mask deep structural inequalities and violence.
While Dos Passos’ America grappled with the consequences of rapid economic expansion, urbanization, and class disparity, Deb’s India contends with the realities of neoliberal capitalism and resurgent nationalism. Both writers depict societies in which individuals are buffeted by larger economic and political forces and reduced to “twilight prisoners” in systems that promise freedom and prosperity but often deliver disillusionment and oppression.
Divided into three parts, Deb’s Twilight Prisoners meticulously unpacks the rise of Hindu nationalism and its impact on India’s social and political fabric. In the first part, Deb scrutinizes the myth-making machinery of Hindu nationalism. In the second, he explores how historical erasure supports the rise of Hindu nationalism. In the third, he serves a call to action, centring on the stories of those who resist the rise of Hindu nationalism despite the risks.
Unpacking Myth and Spectacle
Deb begins Twilight Prisoners by unpacking the myth-making machinery of Hindu nationalism. He shows how Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who has become synonymous with the Hindu nationalist project, has risen from provincial obscurity to a global stage. Deb depicts Modi’s ascent not just as a political trajectory but as part of a broader narrative strategy. The Hindu right has harnessed ancient myths, colonial nostalgia, and contemporary fears to reframe India’s history and identity, using Modi as a symbol of this ideological shift.
This book section delves into Modi’s symbolic transformation, aligning ancient Vedic myths with modern populism. This audacious project combines economic ambitions with a forceful reclamation of India’s Hindu past. Deb’s investigation shows how this potent cocktail of myth, fear, and nostalgia has captivated India, effectively reshaping its collective consciousness. This narrative contrasts with the West’s struggles with identity politics, making the book resonate with audiences who see echoes of their own society’s battles with nationalism and political myth.
Rewriting Public Memory
The second part of Twilight Prisoners deepens Deb’s examination of how Hindu nationalism strategically erases inconvenient histories. Deb’s account of the 1984 Bhopal disaster is particularly illuminating, highlighting how both the Indian state and Western corporations sanitized one of the world’s worst industrial tragedies. He argues that the selective forgetting of such events aligns with a broader state narrative that prioritizes economic growth over accountability and justice.
Deb further illustrates this strategy through the marginalization of Burmese dissidents once welcomed as symbols of India’s democratic spirit. Deb, in a footnote, states clearly his preference to use Burma instead of Myanmar, as preferred by the pro-democracy activist he met in his reporting and who saw Myanmar as an imposition by the military regime.
When their presence no longer served India’s geopolitical interests, the state swiftly erased their contributions, revealing a brutal pragmatism. This manipulation of alliances and historical narratives is not unique to India; it echoes global patterns of statecraft that readers may recognize in their own country’s shifting foreign policy approaches. Deb’s work challenges us to critically examine how state power shapes and reshapes alliances, narratives, and histories to serve political ends.
The Weaponization of Borders
Deb’s investigation takes him to Assam, where Hindu nationalism’s impact becomes viscerally clear. In Assam’s detention centres, millions of Bengali-speaking Muslims have been stripped of citizenship and framed as “illegal immigrants” in a land their families have inhabited for generations. Deb reveals how these centres function not just as physical prisons but as symbols of the Hindu right’s exclusionary vision for India.
The parallels to the global rise of xenophobic politics are stark. The detention centres in Assam might evoke comparisons to Canada’s history of Japanese internment camps during World War II. Deb’s work compels us to confront these uncomfortable realities, encouraging reflection on the fragility of multiculturalism when confronted by fear-based politics. Deb reveals how Hindu nationalism weaponizes fear, transforming these vulnerable communities into scapegoats for imagined invasions. The detention centres are not just physical spaces but ideological battlegrounds that speak to broader global patterns of using immigration and identity to consolidate power.
This theme resonates further as Deb connects this reality to Modi’s rise and the Hindu right’s weaponization of immigration fears. He reveals how demographic anxiety—a tactic used to fuel fear in India—finds echoes globally, from the United States to parts of Europe and beyond. Those who take pride in society’s multicultural ethos may discover Deb’s depiction of identity politics both unsettling and instructive, as it demonstrates how easily these values can be undermined when manipulated by those in power.
In parallel, Deb’s critique of the Ram temple construction in Ayodhya is another example of how Hindu nationalism rewrites history. By framing the temple’s construction as a victory of Hindu identity over the diverse, pluralistic present, Deb illustrates how the selective use of history can manipulate public perception, ultimately serving an exclusionary agenda. This manipulation of history finds its counterparts in the Western contexts where similar battles over identity and monuments unfold, giving a familiar reference point.
Voices of Resistance
The third part of Twilight Prisoners shifts focus to the courageous individuals resisting Hindu nationalism. Deb recounts the assassination of journalist Gauri Lankesh, positioning her as a martyr in the fight against the erosion of free speech and tolerance in India. This act of resistance, along with the imprisonment of the BK16 activists on fabricated charges, showcases the Hindu right’s use of both legal and extralegal measures to silence dissent. The 2024 PEN Pinter Prize winner, Arundhati Roy, another prominent voice featured in this section, exemplifies the writer’s role as a dissenter.
Deb portrays Arundhati Roy as a literary and political force whose work bridges fiction and journalism to challenge state narratives and global capitalism. For Canadians familiar with Roy’s writing, her inclusion reinforces the idea that literature and storytelling are powerful tools for resisting authoritarianism. Deb’s portrayal of these figures offers hope, showing that despite repression, resistance persists, often led by journalists, writers, and activists who continue to fight for truth and justice.
Her presence in the book underscores Deb’s assertion that the battle against authoritarianism is not only political but also literary and cultural. By highlighting these stories, Deb connects with readers who may identify with similar struggles for free speech and civil liberties, whether in journalism, activism, or literature.
Deb’s focus on these voices of resistance serves as a call to action for readers, encouraging them to reflect on the importance of supporting independent media and activism at home and abroad. It emphasizes the interconnected nature of global struggles for justice, urging readers to see the parallels between the fight against Hindu nationalism in India and the challenges to democracy and inclusivity elsewhere.
A Stylistic Triumph
Deb’s style in Twilight Prisoners is evocative and rigorous, blending a novelist’s lyrical precision with a journalist’s investigative depth. His rich imagery and detailed prose create a vivid sense of place and atmosphere, immersing the reader in India’s diverse and often turbulent landscapes. Whether describing the glitzy facades of Delhi or the harsh realities of Assam’s detention centres, Deb writes with a cinematic quality that brings his subjects to life, transforming complex issues into narratives that resonate on a human level.
His distinctive voice resonates with a profound intimacy, reflecting a nuanced understanding of the lives he intricately portrays and the landscapes they navigate. We saw that first in his debut novel, The Point of Return (2002), which invokes the legacy of authors like Mahasweta Devi, who bore witness to the harrowing spectre of the Bengal famine as desperate cries of rural migrants surged into Calcutta like a haunting tide, and Amitav Ghosh, who have long explored the consequences of displacement, migration, and the scars of colonialism in India.
For those familiar, Deb’s style may recall the narrative journalism of Joan Didion or the investigative depth of Katherine Boo’s Behind the Beautiful Forevers, making his critique of India both accessible and compelling. Deb combines personal stories with broader socio-political analysis, making the political personal and the abstract concrete. This approach educates and engages readers, making them more invested in understanding the realities of India’s democratic decline.
The stylistic undertaking becomes more apparent when one looks at other contemporary works like Rahul Bhatia’s The New India: The Unmaking of the World’s Largest Democracy or Arvind Narrain’s India’s Undeclared Emergency: Constitutionalism and the Politics of Resistance; these books form an urgent literary dialogue about the state of contemporary India under the Hindu nationalist agenda. While each work carries its unique perspective and style, they share a joint commitment to uncovering how political and social changes have fundamentally reshaped India’s democratic fabric and redefined its national identity.
Together, they paint a comprehensive, troubling picture of an India caught in a struggle for its soul. In Twilight Prisoners, Deb’s stylistic choices deepen the emotional resonance of his stories, making the political personal and the abstract concrete. His ability to navigate seamlessly between the immediate and the reflective, the real and the imagined, marks him as a singular voice in contemporary nonfiction.
In 2019, Modi’s rallying cry—“Ghar mein ghus ke marenge” (“We’ll enter your home to kill you”)—echoed as both threat and vow, symbolizing a New India underpinned by audacious violence. His pledge: a leader unyielding, a nation unbreakable. With this impetus of a muscular foreign policy resulted in the current freezing of diplomatic relations between Canada and India—sparked by accusations of India violating Canadian sovereignty in the killing of Hardeep Singh Nijjar, a Canadian Sikh leader—Twilight Prisoners shines a light on the bigger picture. This immersive storytelling draws readers in, forging an emotional connection to a distant land that shares democratic ideals and struggles that feel increasingly familiar. It brings to life the intricate realities of contemporary India, inviting a deeper understanding of its complexities.
A call for solidarity
Although Twilight Prisoners is deeply rooted in the Indian context, its themes and implications extend far beyond. Deb shows how the rise of Hindu nationalism in India reflects a broader, global trend of authoritarianism and identity politics undermining democratic structures. The intersections of neoliberalism, economic precarity, and nationalistic fervour resonate globally, from Brazil to Hungary and Canada. Deb’s critique serves as a reminder that democracy is fragile and authoritarian movements use the manipulation of identity and memory.
Twilight Prisoners to a reader in the West is a crucial text that speaks directly to contemporary debates about multiculturalism, immigration, and the rewriting of national histories. It offers insights into how identity politics and economic disparities exploit to reshape democratic societies, urging readers to be vigilant about the values they hold dear. The book invites readers to reflect on their society’s vulnerabilities and the global connections that bind struggles for justice and inclusivity.
These essays navigate India’s underbelly, where ancient Vedic fantasies meet modern fascism. Twilight Prisoners is more than a political analysis; it calls for solidarity and action. Siddhartha Deb’s powerful storytelling and sharp critique make this book an essential reading for all who value democracy and pluralism. His work challenges readers to recognize the interconnectedness of global struggles and understand that India’s fight against authoritarianism has lessons for all democracies.
By chronicling the rise of Hindu nationalism and the courageous resistance against it, Deb offers a timely, urgent, and resonant book. Twilight Prisoners reminds Canadians, who pride themselves on inclusivity and diversity that these values require constant defence against forces that seek to divide and undermine them.
Deb’s masterful blending of history, journalism, and personal narrative creates a compelling, unforgettable read. Twilight Prisoners is not just a story about India; it is a global narrative that resonates with anyone invested in the future of democracy, human rights, and the power of storytelling. Democracy’s ideals must be actively defended, as they can easily be undermined by manipulative populism. It demands our attention and our action, showing that while authoritarianism may rise, the act of resistance—whether through protest, journalism, or literature—remains a potent force for change.
Deb’s incisive critique of India’s descent into Hindu nationalism mirrors global patterns of populist manipulation, where historical amnesia and identity politics are weaponized to erode democratic values—a theme echoed in Viet Thanh Nguyen’s unmasking of America’s nostalgic veneer. Just as the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer exposed Trumpian nostalgia as a rebranding of racial exclusion, invoking eras like the Chinese Exclusion Act and Japanese internment. Beneath the rhetoric of “Make America Great Again” lies a fantasy of racial purity, ignoring America’s reliance on exploited immigrant labour. This vision serves a capitalist system that harms not only people of colour but also poor and working-class whites. Trump’s promise feeds fear and division, masking systemic inequities with hollow appeals to a mythical past.
Narendra Pachkhédé is a critic, essayist and writer who splits his time between Toronto, London and Geneva