The recent cinematic success of ‘Chhaava’ marks a crucial turning point. It has ignited a spark in young Indians, compelling them to question the blindfolded historiography of our textbooks.
Shivaputra Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj stands as the embodiment of Swaraj with Balidan. He was not just a formidable warrior, but a ruler, a leader, and an indomitable inspiration whose legacy has transcended centuries. His life remains a testament to resilience, fortitude, and sacrifice—not merely in the realms of politics, leadership, or military strategy, but also in social and personal spheres. Yet, despite his unparalleled contributions, he remains an unsung hero in the pages of Indian history. History as propaganda as conceived by the Left Islamist historians needed to whitewash the bloodiest period of Islamic invasions for its so-called consequences. They used their techniques of interpreting history not from facts but rather their interpretations of an imagined community.
For children growing up in this country, his legacy barely registers beyond a fleeting mention in textbooks. His entire life, his battles, his visionary leadership—reduced to a one-mark question in exams, buried within a handful of pages that discuss the Maratha Empire in passing. Such a travesty is not accidental, but it results from a deliberate whitewashing of history, a wilful erasure of the towering legacy of Shivaji and his successors. In this context, we must evaluate the systematic disregard for his contributions and the narratives that continue to overshadow his sacrifices. Such distortion of history is not just a misunderstanding but a painful irony. The ruthless Aurangzeb, a man whose reign was defined by tyranny and oppression, has been repackaged as a figure of inclusivity and tolerance by leftist-Islamist historiography, and the so-called intellectuals have perpetuated it. How appalling it is that the Mughal emperor, who never once claimed to be secular, is now portrayed as a symbol of pluralism. The historical records of his court present him as an unyielding conqueror, one who wielded the sword with merciless precision, where inclusivity had no place in his calculus. And yet, the intellectual brigade fixates on his so-called “tolerance” while choosing to ignore the humanity of Shambhaji.
Shambhaji’s governance reflected an unwavering commitment to justice. He opposed caste discrimination, encouraged talent from all sections of society, and fostered a spirit of unity that transcended class, caste, and gender. His leadership was not dictated by religious dogma but by a nationalist vision—one that sought to unite Bharatiya consciousness under a common cause. He was not merely a military commander, but a reformer, administrator, and statesman who envisioned a self-reliant, just society. His vision of Hindawi Swaraj was not rooted in exclusion but in empowerment—a striking contrast to Aurangzeb’s imperial expansionism, which was driven by religious persecution and absolute subjugation.
Shambhaji’s crime, in the eyes of the imperialist forces, was that he refused to bow before Islamic expansionism. He built alliances not for religious supremacy but to fortify a nationalist front against oppression. He fought against social evils with the same determination with which he fought 127 battles—each one a testament to his strategic brilliance and sheer willpower. His betrayal at the hands of his own brother-in-law, Ganoji Shirke, during the Sangameshwar meeting was one of the most tragic episodes in history. It was not just the betrayal of a warrior but of a movement that sought to free Bharat from foreign domination.
Even in captivity, Shambhaji did not waver. Aurangzeb offered him a way out—conversion to Islam in exchange for his life. But for Shambhaji, ideals were worth more than existence itself. He refused to surrender, refused to plead, and refused to compromise on his principles. And for this, he suffered unspeakable horrors before his execution. Blinded, tortured, and mutilated, he endured days of relentless agony at the hands of Aurangzeb’s executioners. His fingers were sliced off, one at a time. His nails were ripped from his flesh. His eyes—his very sight—were gouged out by specialists summoned from Afghanistan. The brutality inflicted upon him defies imagination, sending chills down the spine of anyone who dares to confront the reality of his suffering. His was a martyrdom so harrowing that it stands as a grim reminder of the price he paid for his unwavering defiance.
And even during his final moments, as pain coursed through his mutilated body, Shambhaji did not cry out for mercy. He did not break
Shambhaji’s life is not just history but a lesson in perseverance, patriotism, and the relentless pursuit of justice. When he was not fighting the Mughals, he was fighting societal evils, laying the foundation for a just and equitable society. His contributions to military strategy, particularly in maritime warfare, remain relevant to this day. His unwavering faith in righteousness was not about personal gain but about upholding the honour of his people. His ideals of Deva, Desh, and Dharma encapsulate the spirit of Bharatiya resistance against oppression—a spirit that has withstood centuries of invasions, betrayals, and distortions.
In this context, the recent cinematic success of “Chhaava” marks a crucial turning point. It has ignited a spark in young Indians, compelling them to question the blindfolded historiography of our textbooks. It has exposed the true face of Aurangzeb—a tyrant whose hands were drenched in blood, a despot whose cruelty knew no bounds. And it has, above all, resurrected the towering legacy of Shambhaji, reminding the nation of his unparalleled sacrifice. The cinematic retelling of his story, adapted from Shivaji Sawant’s Marathi novel, comes 336 years after his sacrifice. It is the bare minimum tribute to a man whose sacrifice shaped the destiny of a nation. The film’s resounding success has done what history books failed to do—it has brought the valiant Chhatrapati back into the national consciousness. It has shattered the false narratives, obliterated the myths woven by distorters of history, and rekindled a hunger among citizens to rediscover their true heritage. As audiences leave the theatres with tears in their eyes and fire in their hearts to learn more about Chhavva—the lion’s cub—one thing is clear: Shambhaji is not just a figure of the past. He is the pulse of Bharat, the soul of its resilience, and the unyielding spirit of a civilization that refuses to be erased. His story, once sidelined, now stands tall, reminding every Bharatiya that true courage lies not in conquest but in unwavering defiance against tyranny.
Shambhaji did not just fight battles for himself, he fought for an idea. And that idea lives on.
* Prof Santishree Dhulipudi Pandit is the Vice Chancellor of JNU.