There is something deeply unsettling when privilege speaks the language of persecution. It is even more troubling when that voice belongs to someone who is not just successful, but institutionally celebrated by the Indian state. When globally acclaimed figures like A.R Rahman repeatedly flirt with the rhetoric of “minority victimhood,” it raises a fundamental question: victim of what, exactly – and at whose cost?
India is not a theocratic nation. It is a civilisational republic. That distinction is critical and deliberately ignored by those who reduce citizenship to census arithmetic. The Indian Constitution does not recognise Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Sikhs, or Parsis as political units. It recognises citizens. Full stop. Rights flow from citizenship, not faith.
Rahman’s own life is proof of this reality.
Here is a man born in Chennai, trained in Indian classical traditions, nurtured by India’s film industry, elevated by Indian audiences, and honoured by the Indian state with its highest civilian awards. He has represented India on global stages, carried the Indian flag into international music halls, and been projected as a cultural ambassador of the nation. This is not the biography of a man crushed by systemic discrimination. This is the biography of someone who flourished – spectacularly – within the Indian ecosystem.
So why the need to reach for the victim card?
The answer lies not in lived discrimination but in the modern politics of grievance. Victimhood today is currency. It offers instant moral immunity. Once you position yourself as a victim, criticism becomes oppression, disagreement becomes hate, and accountability becomes persecution. It is a convenient shield, especially for elites who wish to occupy the moral high ground without engaging uncomfortable questions.
The real danger is not that such narratives are voiced. It is that they are voiced by those who do not need them, thereby trivialising the genuine suffering of people who do.
Let us be honest: there are Indians – across religions, castes, regions, and languages – who face injustice. That injustice must be addressed. But to convert identity into a permanent grievance framework is to sabotage national cohesion. When influential personalities normalise grievance as identity, they encourage millions to view themselves not as stakeholders in a shared nation but as claimants against it.
This is where the idea of “minority” becomes weaponised.
In India, the term “minority” was meant as a protective classification, not a political personality. It was designed to ensure cultural and educational rights, not to manufacture permanent victim consciousness. Over time, however, it has morphed into something else – an emotional shortcut, a rhetorical crutch, a way to outsource responsibility and internalise grievance.
What makes this particularly ironic is that many Indian Christians – like many Indian Muslims, Sikhs, Parsis, Buddhists, and Jains – do not see themselves as minorities at all. They see themselves as Indians. They live their faith privately and their citizenship publicly. They do not wake up every morning feeling besieged by the state. They participate in the nation without demanding exemption from it.
Their patriotism is quiet, untheatrical, and deeply rooted.
Contrast this with elite victimhood, which is loud, performative, and selective. It surfaces conveniently in interviews, award speeches, and curated conversations – but disappears when state honours are conferred, commercial benefits accrue, or national platforms are offered. The state is oppressive only when it is convenient to say so.
That contradiction is not accidental. It is strategic.
India today is undergoing a churn – a reclaiming of civilisational confidence after decades of ideological apologetics. This makes certain elites uncomfortable. When the narrative shifts from “India as a flawed idea” to “India as a continuous civilisation,” grievance merchants lose their monopoly over moral authority. Victimhood, therefore, becomes a tool to reassert relevance.
But here is the hard truth: India does not owe emotional validation to elites who have already been validated by every possible institution.
To claim perpetual victimhood from a position of power is not courage. It is indulgence.
More importantly, it insults millions of Indians – across communities – who face real struggles without global platforms, state honours, or curated sympathy. It tells them that grievance matters more than contribution, identity more than duty, and complaint more than character.
The idea of India was never built on victimhood. It was built on resilience.
Civilisations survive not because everyone feels wronged, but because enough people feel responsible. The Indian genius lies in its ability to absorb differences without fragmenting into grievances. When prominent voices undermine that ethos, they do not challenge power – they weaken cohesion.
One can love one’s faith without distrusting one’s nation. One can critique society without reducing oneself to a victim. And one can be a global icon without pretending to be besieged.
India does not need fewer minorities. It needs fewer professional victims.
And perhaps the most radical statement in today’s India is also the simplest:I am not a minority. I am an Indian.
