You Are Your Own Worst Enemy

You think decolonization is about knowing the right history. You've read the books. You know Macaulay's famous minute. You can quote Sitaram Goel on temple destructions. You've memorized the talking points about how the British systematically dismantled gurukuls and placed temples under government control. You understand the intellectual bankruptcy of Nehruvian secularism.

And yet—and yet—your civilization continues its slow-motion collapse.
Why? Because you think knowledge is the same as commitment. That understanding the problem is the same as solving it.

But Decolonization isn't an intellectual exercise. It's a commitment that costs you something. And you—yes, you, the concerned Hindu nodding along—aren't willing to pay the price.

You're not losing because your enemies are too powerful. You're losing because you're lazy. Not physically lazy. You work hard at your job, your business. You hustle for that promotion, that next milestone. But civilizationally? You act like you're exhausted.

It's easier to blame "Nehru" or "the Left" or "Macaulayputras" than to admit the simple truth: You won't do what needs to be done because it costs too much.

You complain about temples being under government control but won't spend any time raising awareness about it. You rage about Gurukuls being destroyed but won't donate to rebuild them or send your own children there.

You want decolonization to happen to you, like a software update you install while sleeping. Except decolonization doesn't work that way. It works through sacrifice, through sustained commitment and through choosing civilizational survival over personal comfort. Again and again. And that's precisely where you tap out.

What is the cost of real commitment?

It costs you money. Real money. Funding schools, publishing houses, legal battles, institutions—all the unglamorous backend work that makes civilizational revival possible.

Christian missionary networks don't crowdfund when they feel inspired. They have systematic funding mechanisms built over centuries. Regular tithes. Institutional endowments. And you? You retweet fundraisers when a temple gets demolished and call it activism.

It costs you social capital. Being that person. The one who makes dinner parties uncomfortable. The one who won't laugh at the casual Hindu joke. The one who challenges the textbook at the PTA meeting while everyone else just wants to go home. Your decolonization stops exactly where your social discomfort begins.

It costs you professional opportunities. Speaking up when your workplace celebrates every religious festival except yours. Refusing to participate in the intellectual frameworks that denigrate your civilization. Being willing to be labeled "communal" or "extremist" by the very institutions you're trying to reform.

But you've worked too hard to get where you are. You've climbed too far. You're not about to jeopardize your position for something as abstract as "civilizational revival."

It costs you time. Not the time you have left over after Netflix and Instagram and your hobby projects. Prime time. The hours you're most productive. The weekends you wanted for yourself. Years of sustained effort on work that might not bear fruit in your lifetime.

But you're already tired. You've got a demanding job, family obligations, personal goals. Who has time for civilizational battles?

You can see the pattern, but you won't learn from it. Hindus fail to learn from history. Again. And again. And again. You make the same mistakes your ancestors made. You ignore demographic changes until it's too late. You tolerate systems that work against you because changing them requires confrontation. You wait for some mythical "strong leader" to fix everything while you continue optimizing your personal life.

Sitaram Goel didn't write his books during comfortable retirement funded by corporate savings. He wrote them while being systematically marginalized, labeled communal, denied institutional support—and he did it anyway.

He built a publishing network to document uncomfortable truths when the entire establishment opposed him. He established connections with committed scholars and created institutional infrastructure for civilizational knowledge when it would have been infinitely easier to just... not.

He defined the main threats to India, not as abstract theory but as forces requiring systematic resistance. And he did all this knowing he would be called communal. Knowing he would be excluded from respectable intellectual circles and that the financial rewards would be minimal and the social costs high. But he paid the price. He made the commitment.

Real decolonization—the kind that actually transforms civilizations—is not just attending occasional protests or sharing angry posts.

Real decolonization is:

• Building parallel institutions that outlast your enthusiasm. Schools that teach your actual history. Publishing houses that produce civilizational knowledge. Legal networks that defend your interests. Media platforms that tell your stories. Research organizations that document your narrative.
  
  Not someday. Now. With whatever resources you currently have, however inadequate they seem.
• Choosing civilizational commitment over personal advancement. That social circle that demands you mock your heritage for acceptance? You leave it. That "prestigious" school that teaches your children to be ashamed of being Hindu? You choose differently. Every. Single. Time.
• Showing up when it's boring. The legal battles over school textbooks. The systematic documentation of anti-Hindu bias. The unglamorous backend work of institutional building. The repetitive, tedious work that actually changes systems.
• Funding the fight like your civilization depends on it (because it does). Not whatever's left over. Not when you feel inspired. Systematic, sustained financial commitment to civilizational infrastructure. Treating it as non-negotiable as your rent or your children's education.

Can you do this? Will you?
Or will you, like every generation before you, get distracted by comfort and convenience and the exhausting work of maintaining your personal life?

Your laziness isn't about lacking time or resources. It's about priority. You have time for your hobbies. You have resources for your luxuries. You have energy for your entertainment. What you don't have is willingness to sacrifice those things for something larger than yourself.

You want civilizational revival to slot neatly into your existing life without disrupting your comfort. You want to make the occasional donation, share the occasional post—and have that be enough. It's not enough. It will never be enough.

The forces working to destroy your civilization don't clock out at 6 PM. They don't take weekends off. They don't wait until they "have time." They're institutional, systematic, relentless. And you're fighting them with... what? Weekend enthusiasm? Online arguments? Occasional anger?

You're bringing a tooth pick to a generational war. And you wonder why you keep losing.

Think about what your ancestors endured. Centuries of systematic destruction—temples demolished, knowledge systems interrupted, entire traditions driven underground. Colonization that was intellectual, spiritual, economic, political, total.

They survived. Preserved what they could, however they could, at tremendous personal cost. And you—living in relative comfort, with resources they couldn't imagine, with freedom they died to achieve—you won't even inconvenience yourself.

You won't send your children to schools that teach your actual heritage because they lack "infrastructure." You won't fund civilizational institutions because that impacts your discretionary spending. You won't speak up at work because it might affect your promotion. You won't organize because it takes time away from your hobbies.

Your ancestors hid sacred texts during invasions. Memorized knowledge when books were burned. Kept traditions alive in secret when practicing them meant death. What hardship are you facing that compares? What sacrifice are you being asked to make that's even in the same universe as what they endured?
None.

You're just lazy. Comfortable. Unwilling to choose civilizational survival over personal convenience.

Let me show you your future: You'll continue feeling righteously angry when temples get vandalized. You'll share posts. You'll engage in online arguments. You'll wait for "someone" to do "something." You'll blame politicians, intellectuals, "the system." And nothing will change.

The intellectual vacuum will grow deeper. The institutional infrastructure will remain in hostile hands. Your children will learn to be ashamed of their heritage despite your occasional protests.

In fifty years, when your grandchildren ask why you didn't stop this, you'll have no good answer. Because the truth—"I was too comfortable, too tired, too focused on my personal life"—isn't something you can say out loud.

The decolonization that should have happened in your generation will remain incomplete. Another cycle wasted, opportunity squandered. Another generation passing the burden forward while doing the minimum.

Unless—unless—you're willing to get serious about commitment.

A real decolonization movement :

• Is boring. Systematic documentation, legal filings, institutional building. The unglamorous work that actually changes systems.
• It's expensive. Not just money, but opportunity cost. The social circles you leave. The comfort you sacrifice. The standard of living you lower because civilizational survival comes first.
• It's lonely. Most people won't join you. Many will mock you. Your social circle will shrink. You'll be the annoying person everyone avoids because you won't shut up about civilizational issues.
• It's generational. You won't see results in your lifetime. You're building for grandchildren you haven't met. With no guarantee of success and no immediate reward.

So here is the only question that matters: Are you willing to be uncomfortable—financially, socially, professionally, personally—for the rest of your life, for a civilizational revival you might not live to see?

Not "Do you support decolonization?" Everyone supports it in theory. Not "Do you understand the problem?" You understand it intellectually.

But will you pay the price?

Will you sacrifice the comfort, the convenience, the social approval, the free time, the peaceful life you've built?

Will you choose to be that person—the one who actually does the unglamorous work of institutional building while everyone else just talks about it? Will you commit to sustained, systematic effort with no guarantee of victory?

If the answer is "yes, but only if it doesn't cost too much" or "yes, but I need to see results first" or "yes, but after I achieve my personal goals"—then the answer is no.

And that's fine. Be honest about it. Admit you care more about personal comfort than civilizational survival. At least then you stop wasting everyone's time with your performative concern.

But if—if—you're actually willing to pay the price. If you understand that decolonization is commitment, not intellectual exercise. If you're ready to be uncomfortable, unpopular, exhausted, and committed anyway...
Then stop reading and start building.

Because your civilization won't be saved by people who know the right things.
It will be saved—if it's saved at all—by people willing to sacrifice and strive.
The question isn't whether you understand decolonization.
The question is: What are you willing to lose for it?