Reels of Rage: Hyperreality and the Digital Rise of Hindutva
- Vaishnavi Manju Pal
- Sep 16
- 16 min read
The contemporary Indian political landscape is a battle of ideology and rhetoric. Instead of being built on any grounded sense of reality, it is set up on a hyperreality that is continuously being created and reinforced through media. The last decade has seen a profound shift in how politics is experienced, especially with the rise of digital platforms that do not just reflect public sentiment but actively produce it. This production of reality, which relies solely on rhetoric influenced by Hindutva ideology, has created a well-oiled machinery of mass media production that relies on what Baishya calls “violent spectating” (Baishya, 2022).
This machinery not only challenges the historical reality of the Indian subcontinent but also indulges in both Hindu right-wing revisionism and violence to create a version of simulated reality. Here, the symbols (simulacra) of Hindutva thought do not just actively participate in reality but overturn the very nature of our social reality to create what Jean Baudrillard called hyperreality (Wolny, 2017).
Nowhere is this more evident than in the phenomenon of Hindutva social media and YouTube spaces, wherein political weapons of Hindutva thought such as Hindutva intellectuals, Instagram influencers, podcasters and the much-discussed phenomenon of Hindutva Pop thrive. Hindutva Pop is a genre of music and digital media that blends the infectious rhythms of popular culture with the ideological fervor of Hindu nationalism. These symbols, or simulacra, are not simply background noise to India’s political arena. They are effective weapons that are engineered to spread hate, create belonging and manufacture fear (Baishya, 2022).
At first glance, these songs and viral reels may seem like harmless cultural curiosities, catchy tunes emerging from small towns and devotional performances amplified through smartphones. Yet, on closer inspection, they reveal themselves as something far more insidious: a spectacle that commodifies hate and turns it into a consumable product, with millions of views garnered on YouTube and equally trendy reels achieving similarly massive numbers. Hindutva Pop goes beyond celebrating Hindu identity, constructing a world where Hindutva audiences experience what Žižek has called jouissance.
The term is used to describe a kind of intense, often excessive enjoyment or pleasure that is central to the politics of Hindutva Pop music and its violent ideological messaging via social media platforms (Žižek, 1997). It refers to the libidinal or emotional energy that audiences derive from these media, which is tied to fantasies of power, dominance and revenge against the perceived "other": Muslims and caste minorities. It is no wonder that these symbols of libidinal pleasure and outbursts have become a staple at weddings as well as political and religious gatherings.
This article will engage in a content analysis of these symbols of the Hindutva ideological order that have led to the creation of hyperreality that most Indians inhabit in contemporary times. It will attempt to analyze the core tenets of the Hindutva social media space by examining popular reels and social media personalities who dominate this ecosystem. While Hindutva Pop is a well-analyzed phenomenon and is the subject of works such as H-Pop Hindutva by Kunal Purohit (Purohit, 2023) and numerous cultural and media studies articles, a similar cultural analysis of the social media presence of Hindutva influencers and ideologues is missing.
Baudrillard, Hyperreality, and the Disappearance of the Real
Jean Baudrillard’s theory of simulacra and hyperreality provides a powerful lens for understanding the transformation of people’s perception of reality. For Baudrillard, mass media no longer mirrors reality. Instead, it constructs its own reality, a simulation that eventually becomes more real than reality itself. In the world of hyperreality, symbols and images circulate endlessly, detached from any original truth.
At a more nuanced level, Baudrillard’s theory of simulacra describes how representations or images (simulacra) no longer reflect any original reality but instead become self-contained copies that replace and obscure the real. This process, known as simulation, leads to a state where the distinction between reality and its representation dissolves (Wolny, 2017).
This dissolution of reality leads to the formation of what Baudrillard called ‘Hyperreality,’ a condition in which these reproduced images or signs become more significant and influential than the actual objects or events they represent. In other words, media and consumer culture construct a version of reality that feels more authentic than the world itself. In this context, meaning is not generated by reference to an original, but through the endless circulation of signs within a system of symbols. The result is a world where what is tangible is erased and replaced by its simulacra (Wolny, 2017).
Applied to Hindutva Pop, this means that songs, reels, and hashtags do not merely reflect existing hatred but actively produce it. The constant repetition of slogans like “Har ghar bhagwa chahiye ga” or “Jai Shri Ram” (“Every house will be covered in Orange Flag” and “Hail Lord Ram,” author’s translation). Please note, the orange flag has become symbolic of Hindutva and also coincides with the party color of the ruling BJP, which heavily backs the Hindutva identity. This repetition across digital spaces does not simply echo pre-existing sentiments. It constructs a new reality in which anti-Muslim hostility and caste supremacy feel natural and inevitable. People do not simply hear these messages, they inhabit them. Each reel watched, each chant repeated and each video shared becomes a performance of Hindutva identity, binding individuals to a collective ideological fantasy.
In this process, the real conditions of inequality, caste exploitation, rampant corruption and the compromise of democratic institutions fade into the background, hidden by the glowing screen of the smartphone (Baishya, 2022). The very real crises of unemployment, poverty, and state violence are overshadowed by the seductive imagery of a “strong Hindu nation.” This is how hyperreality functions. It dissolves the real and replaces it with signs and symbols that circulate endlessly until they appear more powerful and convincing than reality.
In this hyperreal space, the act of watching and sharing hate-filled content becomes a source of collective gratification. Every reel glorifying violence and every remix of militant chants is consumed as if it were a symbolic victory for the imagined Hindu Rashtra (“Hindu State”).
The repetition of these slogans and images does not merely represent Hindutva supremacy, it solidifies it. As these messages are circulated millions of times, they begin to erase the distinction between reality and fantasy. For many, especially younger generations shaped by algorithm-driven content, it becomes nearly impossible to separate the lived realities of a diverse, complex India from the simulated world of Hindutva dominance. In this world, every share becomes an act of allegiance, every like becomes an affirmation of pride, and each passing day is framed as another step toward a mythical “golden age” of Hindu rule (Basu and Sarkar, 2022).
Oh to be a #KattarHindu and Social Media Star!
For those who inhabit the side of social media where Instagram pages like Thesavalavada and The Onion dominate, it would be rare to encounter a reel that proudly denounces secular thought and urges its viewers to embody the glorified aesthetic of being a kattar (“hardline”) Hindu. This aesthetic has become so popular and desirable within the Hindutva socio-cultural space that a simple search of the keyword on Instagram or YouTube generates an endless list of men and women emulating this style with upbeat, catchy music playing in the background. This entire ensemble has given rise to a genre of reels called “Hindutva Attitude Status” reels, which are extremely popular with young people. A simple 20-second reel can garner 133,000 likes, over 1,140 comments, and more than 800 shares (see figure 1).
The term kattar Hindu refers to a hardline, militant Hindu identity that is aggressively asserted in Hindutva social media content. This identity is marked by violent, masculine iconography and rhetoric that emphasizes dominance, strength, and uncompromising loyalty to Hindu nationalism. In Hindutva pop, the masculine imagination is tied to themes of restoring Hindu masculinity through violence and domination. Music videos and lyrics often celebrate hypermasculine figures such as mustachioed men on motorcycles and invoke aggressive slogans and calls to action against Muslims and other minorities, such as chants of “Jai Shri Ram” being used as a rallying cry during communal clashes or lines like ‘Hindustan mein rehna hoga, to Vande Mataram kehna hoga’ (“If you want to live in Hindustan, saying Vande Mataram is obligatory”) that reinforce exclusionary, militant nationalism (Baishya, 2022).
In the words of Bourdieu, “aesthetics are never neutral” (Bourdieu, 1984). They are tools of distinction. While the performative male aesthetic trend has been widely acknowledged and even humorously deconstructed within left-leaning social media spaces, it has been critiqued through TikTok and Instagram reels that call out men for embodying it without actively engaging in the politics of male allyship or challenging patriarchal social norms. This critique has led to a wave of comedic content where men self-identify as “performative males” and poke fun at themselves. The same, however, cannot be said for the kattar Hindu aesthetic.
This aspirational aesthetic can be broken down into its key symbols and actions. If there were to be a kattar Hindu look-alike contest, the following symbols would be the defining markers one would need to embody it. The saffron scarf, the tilak, the muscular physique and the motorcycle are essential, preferably accompanied by a twirled mustache. Above all, the most important element is the figure of the Muslim or caste minority “other”, toward whom one’s libidinal energy and affective hate are directed.
While these kattar Hindu attitude status reels are responsible for creating and popularizing a certain aesthetic that viewers imitate and reproduce, the greatest power in crafting hyperreality lies with the prominent figures who dominate the Hindutva social media landscape. These are independent artists and influencers who function as stars within this ecosystem.
Their reach and influence extend beyond short-form reels, shaping not only the visual and sonic aesthetic of Hindutva but also the political narratives that underpin it. It is through their music, performances and carefully curated online personas that the ideology of Hindutva achieves its most persuasive and immersive form, making them central to the production and circulation of hate as a consumable cultural product.
Another fascinating sub-genre within this ecosystem is the rise of reaction videos centered on Kattar Hindu Attitude Status reels and Sanatan Dharma videos. These reels are so popular that they have spawned a separate trend where creators record their responses to the content, creating a meta-layer of engagement. What is particularly striking is that many of these reaction videos are titled “Pakistanis react to Sanatan Dharma reels” or “Muslims react to Sanatan Dharma videos” (see figure 2).
This framing highlights how the acknowledgment and response of the “othered” group, in this case Muslims or the Muslim-majority nation of Pakistan, becomes a crucial part of the celebration and validation of the kattar Hindu or Sanatan Dharma identity. Even if some of these videos are not created by Pakistani users, the fact that they are presented as such is significant. It points to the symbolic role that the imagined reaction of the other plays in reinforcing Hindutva pride and dominance.
From a Baudrillardian perspective, these reaction videos demonstrate how hyperreality operates. The reactions may not reflect any authentic engagement but are instead staged signs that circulate endlessly, creating the illusion of conflict and fascination. In this cycle, both the original content and the supposed responses become simulations, blurring the line between real and imagined interactions.
The existence of this reaction video subculture reveals an additional layer of digital Hindutva, where not only the original reels but also their reception become part of the spectacle. This dynamic shows how the construction of hyperreality depends not only on projecting power, but also on staging the perceived submission or fascination of those cast as outsiders.
Stars of the Digital Hindutva Order
Sandeep Acharya and Laxmi Dubey are two of the most prominent figures in the Hindutva pop landscape, shaping its sound, imagery and ideological reach. Acharya is often credited as a pioneer of the “Hinduwadi song” genre, known for his hypermasculine imagery and aggressive lyrics that celebrate Hindu supremacy and call for violence against minorities. Acharya’s videos often feature imagery of weapons, cows as sacred symbols, and assertive postures that symbolize Hindu supremacy and masculine power.
This aesthetic is not limited to visual performance alone. It is also embedded in the soundscape, where militant lyrics are layered over upbeat, techno-inspired music. For instance, the song ‘Hindu Matlab Sabka Baap’ (‘A Hindu is the Boss of them All’) in Acharya’s first Youtube channel, expressed imagery that highlights hypermasculine symbols, featuring a man with a prominent mustache riding a motorcycle. Similarly, the lyrics are explicitly violent and exclusionary. As Baishya notes, “lyrics preach violence against Muslims” (Baishya, 2022).
“shove these cow killers into burning embers, stop cow slaughter, and kill those who don’t obey’”
(author’s translation from Hindi, original lyrics not included as they contain derogatory terms against minority communities).
Laxmi Dubey, meanwhile, brings a distinct presence as one of the few women in this space. Branding herself as a “National Bhajan Singer,” she combines devotional performance with overtly political messaging, equating patriotism with Hindutva ideology. While Acharya represents the aggressive, militant masculinity of the movement, Dubey performs a complementary role, embodying a symbolic maternal figure.
She embodies what feminist scholar Sikata Banerjee describes as the role of the “eloquent speaker,” a woman who gains legitimacy in nationalist movements by celebrating and performing ideals of masculine strength and militant Hindu identity (Banerjee, 2003). Together, they exemplify how Hindutva pop stars turn ideology into spectacle, blending entertainment with propaganda.
Laxmi Dubey remains highly active, with her most recent video, released just four days ago as this piece is being written, celebrating the festival of Ganesh Visarjan. Sandeep Acharya, meanwhile, regularly performs at political rallies and Hindu Jagran events, with his next appearance scheduled for October. Both Dubey and Acharya split their time between releasing songs and performing at Hindu religious ceremonies. Videos available on YouTube and their personal social media pages show them singing a wide range of songs, moving seamlessly from devotional prayers to Hindutva anthems that glorify militant nationalism.
Acharya’s songs, such as “Aabar Babar Ke Naam se Awadh Me Savchalaye Banwaunga” (“I will make a toilet in Awadh in Babar’s name,” author’s translation), are fan favorites according to his social media. They combine historical revisionism with scatological humor, equating Muslim identity with filth and humiliation. Similarly, Dubey blends patriotic imagery with Hindutva messaging in songs like “Har Ghar Bhagwa Chahiye Ga” and “Kashmeer Na Denge”(“Every house will be covered in Orange Flag” and “We will never give Kashmir,” author’s translations). This careful balancing act allows them to position themselves simultaneously as devotional artists spreading messages of faith and as performers propagating sectarian hate through the language of militant nationalism (Baishya, 2022).
By presenting this dual identity, they are able to attract a wide spectrum of audiences. On one side are devotees who come for religious songs and, through exposure to Hindutva messaging, risk becoming radicalized. On the other are already radicalized Hindutva followers who no longer see a distinction between spiritual devotion and a political ideology built on hatred and exclusion. This dual strategy ensures that their performances operate both as sites of worship and as spaces of ideological indoctrination, blurring the boundaries between religion and politics.
The Future of the Hindutva Order and Merging of the Social and Political
A simple look at the top-trending Hindutva songs by singers who have recently emerged, following the breakthrough of earlier figures like Sandeep Acharya and Laxmi Dubey who dominated the scene for quite some time, reveals a new generation of artists shaping this space. Singers such as Ved Prakash Dubey openly signal their caste positionality through their names. The surname Dubey is a well-known upper-caste Brahmin surname, clearly indicating his caste identity, something that is also proudly reflected in his music and lyrics, where he proclaims his Brahmin identity and role as a protector of the Hindu order.
In Figure 3, Pandit is depicted holding a gada (mace), a symbol of militant religious power. Additionally, artists like Hashtag Pandit, who present themselves as independent performers and occasionally experiment with rap, leave no doubt about their caste identity by using the word Pandit in their stage name. The term Pandit itself denotes belonging to the upper caste of Brahmins, making their caste pride explicit. This is something he is openly proud of, also reflected in his Instagram handle, Hindu Hashtag Pandit (see figure 3).
Much like the name Hindu Hashtag Pandit, these artists proudly produce and promote two intertwined ideologies. The first is the religious supremacy of Hindutva, and the second is the assertion of caste purity and pride. Together, these forces create a powerful cultural and political message that glorifies both militant Hindu nationalism and entrenched caste hierarchies.
The language of exclusion and the vision of Hindutva Hyperreality
It is important to distinguish between the othering that Muslims and other religious minorities face and the position of caste minorities within the Hindutva order. The othering of Muslims along religious lines has been explored in greater detail in a previous article in this column, The Inverted Feminist Politics of Hindu Nationalist Feminists (Pal, 2025).
In contrast, caste minorities such as the Dalit, Bahujan, and Adivasi (DBA) communities face a different dynamic altogether. Rather than being outright excluded, they are subjected to a form of arbitrary, often mocking inclusion. This inclusion functions as a strategy to draw caste minorities into the Hindutva fold while simultaneously denying the existence of caste-based discrimination.
An example of this dynamic can be seen in the rhetoric of Hindutva intellectuals like Sudhanshu Trivedi, a Member of Parliament and self-proclaimed Hindutva ideologue. In an ANI podcast hosted by Smita Prakash, which aired on 16th September 2023, Trivedi made statements that have since been turned into widely circulated reels across Hindutva social media. He claimed that “Herbert Hope Risley divided India into castes, and caste is a Portuguese word, foreign to India.” He further stated, “The Macaulay virus of the 19th century and the Marxist virus of the 20th century will be eradicated by Modi’s vaccine of the 21st century” (ANI News, 2023).
By being platformed by ANI and broadcast to a national audience, these statements send a clear message to caste minorities. They are told that they belong within the Hindutva varna order, but only on terms defined by upper-caste ideologues. This gaslighting denies the lived reality of caste oppression, pressuring Dalits and other marginalized groups to accept a lower status within the hierarchy while being coerced into believing they are equal members of a unified Hindu identity.
While figures like Trivedi use polished, intellectual-sounding language to erase caste realities and draw Dalits into the Hindutva fold, numerous social media platforms amplify these ideas in cruder and more populist ways. Pages such as The Sanatan Empire, with 39.1k followers, Kattarhinduempire_ on Instagram, and Satya Sanatan, which has 2.1 million subscribers on YouTube, play a central role in this process.
Their content falls largely into two categories. The first is anti-Muslim hate coupled with attacks on secularism. The second is caste denial, which calls for Hindu unity while simultaneously mocking Ambedkar and Ambedkarite thought, with particular hostility directed toward reservations and affirmative action, which face their sharpest criticism in this space (see figure 4 & 5).
These platforms form an ecosystem where violent religious nationalism and caste erasure operate hand in hand, reinforcing both the exclusion of Muslims and the co-optation of caste minorities into a Hindutva framework that upholds Brahmanical dominance.
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As I sit in the landscape of unending reels, hashtags, and songs I have explored throughout this piece, what strikes me most is how little of this world feels grounded in the everyday realities of the people who consume it. The India we scroll through on our screens is not a reflection of our lived experiences. It is a carefully curated stage where symbols perform endlessly, and through their repetition, come to feel more real than the poverty, caste violence, and political corruption that exist outside our windows.
This is precisely what Jean Baudrillard meant when he described hyperreality. In the Hindutva digital ecosystem, slogans like “Har ghar bhagwa chahiye ga” and images of saffron flags, muscular men, and devotional singers do not just mirror a political ideology, they construct a world where that ideology is the only truth. When a reel is liked, shared, or remixed, it is not merely consumed as entertainment. It becomes an act of participation, a small pledge of allegiance to a fantasy of dominance and purity.
I urge readers to take the time to conduct their own small-scale content ethnographic research by exploring these Hindutva pages and YouTube channels directly. Engaging with this content firsthand allows us to see through its lies and strengthens our ability to resist the rhetoric of hate. It is important to pierce the outrage echo chambers of social media and grapple with the realities of the hyperreality of Hindutva. Only by confronting this content head-on can we begin to understand the depth of its impact and the scale of the machinery that sustains it.
When I think about hyperreality in this context, I am left wondering how we begin to tell stories that reconnect us to the real. How do we disrupt an ecosystem where even a reaction video becomes part of the performance, where even outrage is absorbed back into the spectacle? Baudrillard offers no easy answers and perhaps that is the point.
What I do know is that ignoring this digital machinery is no longer an option. Hindutva pop is not just music, and those reels are not just harmless fun. They are the building blocks of a hyperreal nation, one where hatred is packaged as culture and consumed as joy. To challenge this is to demand not only political change but also a radical reimagining of how we create and consume media. Because if we do not, the India we inherit will not be the India we live in, but the India endlessly replayed and remixed on our screens.
Vaishnavi Manju Pal (she/they) holds a Distinction in Gender Studies from SOAS, University of London, where their research focused on 'Dalit Masculinities and Alternate Politics of Radical Dalit Assertion.' They are a lecturer and module leader in Social Sciences, based in London.
A columnist at Political Pandora, they write 'Frames of Reference,' a column that examines socio-political realities through multiple theoretical lenses, with a particular focus on the Indian subcontinent. Their work engages with the lived experiences of its diverse populations, aiming to bridge the gap between academia and public discourse through accessible yet critically rigorous cultural and political analysis.
A firm believer in the power of marginalized voices, Vaishnavi has served as President of the SOAS Ambedkar Society. They are committed to contributing to radical discourse—one class, one student, one paper, and one revolution at a time.
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