Reading The Waste Land through Indian Knowledge Systems: From Spiritual Desolation to Renewal

Revisiting The Waste Land through the Lens of Indian Knowledge Systems

This blog is written as a task assigned by the head of the Department of English (MKBU), Prof. and Dr. Dilip Barad Sir.

Introduction: Why Read The Waste Land through Indian Knowledge Systems?

T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922) occupies a central place in twentieth-century English literature as a defining text of literary modernism. It is widely read as a poem of fragmentation, despair, and cultural collapse, reflecting the moral and spiritual exhaustion of Europe after the First World War. Critics have traditionally emphasized Eliot’s use of Western literary sources classical mythology, the Bible, Dante, Shakespeare, and medieval Christian thought to explain the poem’s dense intertextual fabric.

However, such readings often overlook or marginalize Eliot’s deep engagement with Indian philosophy, Sanskrit texts, and Eastern metaphysical traditions. Eliot was not merely dabbling in Eastern ideas for aesthetic novelty; his intellectual formation included serious study of Sanskrit, Pali, and Indian philosophy at Harvard. These influences shape not only The Waste Land’s concluding section but also its ethical structure, spiritual vision, and symbolic movement from chaos toward the possibility of renewal.

Reading The Waste Land through the lens of Indian Knowledge Systems (IKS) allows us to see the poem not simply as a pessimistic portrayal of modern decay but as a philosophical inquiry into ignorance (avidyā), illusion (māyā), ethical failure, and spiritual longing. Indian thought provides Eliot with conceptual tools to diagnose the crisis of modernity and gesture however tentatively toward moral and spiritual regeneration.

This blog explores The Waste Land through IKS by engaging with scholarly interpretations that emphasize Upanishadic philosophy, Vedantic metaphysics, Buddhist ethics, and Indic ritual symbolism. It argues that Indian Knowledge Systems form a structural and ethical backbone of the poem, guiding the reader from fragmentation toward disciplined awareness, even if final resolution remains incomplete.

The Modern Wasteland: Spiritual and Ethical Desolation

At its most immediate level, The Waste Land depicts a civilization that has lost coherence. The poem’s fragmented structure, shifting speakers, and disjointed images reflect a world shattered by war, industrialization, and moral disintegration. Eliot presents modern humanity as spiritually barren, emotionally numb, and ethically disoriented.

The opening section, “The Burial of the Dead,” introduces a paradoxical landscape where spring the traditional symbol of rebirth is experienced as cruel rather than regenerative. Nature no longer nurtures human life; instead, it exposes the emptiness beneath social rituals and cultural habits. This inversion of natural symbolism signals a deeper spiritual malaise.

From an Indian philosophical perspective, this condition closely resembles avidyā, or ignorance. In the Upanishads, avidyā is not merely intellectual ignorance but a fundamental misunderstanding of reality a mistaken identification with the ego, material desire, and impermanent forms. The wasteland, therefore, is not simply a historical aftermath of war but a metaphysical condition in which humanity has lost contact with ethical and spiritual truth.

Eliot’s depiction of lifeless landscapes, sterile relationships, and mechanical routines echoes this state of ignorance. Human beings move through the world without awareness, driven by habit rather than wisdom, desire rather than discipline. The wasteland is thus both an external environment and an internal condition of consciousness.

Fragmentation and Māyā: Illusion in Modern Life

One of the defining features of The Waste Land is its fragmentation. Voices interrupt one another, narratives dissolve mid-sentence, and meaning appears scattered across cultures and centuries. While modernist critics often interpret this fragmentation as a stylistic reflection of historical rupture, an IKS reading reveals a deeper metaphysical significance.

In Indian philosophy, māyā refers to the illusory nature of phenomenal reality. The world appears fragmented, unstable, and chaotic because human perception is clouded by ego and desire. Reality itself is not broken; rather, it is misperceived. Eliot’s fractured poem mirrors this condition of distorted perception.

Characters in The Waste Land live within this illusion. They seek fulfillment through sex, consumption, power, and social performance, yet remain profoundly dissatisfied. Relationships lack intimacy, communication fails, and rituals have lost their sacred meaning. This is māyā in action: a world of appearances disconnected from inner truth.

Eliot does not present fragmentation as an end in itself. Instead, it serves as a diagnostic tool, exposing the consequences of living without spiritual awareness. The poem’s difficulty, therefore, is not merely technical but ethical—it forces readers to confront their own participation in illusion.

Tiresias: Witness Consciousness and the Universal Self

Among the many figures who appear in The Waste Land, Tiresias occupies a uniquely central position. Eliot famously described Tiresias as the poem’s unifying consciousness, even though he does not dominate the narrative in a conventional sense.

Through an IKS lens, Tiresias can be interpreted as a symbol of witness consciousness, comparable to the Upanishadic concept of the ātman—the observing self that remains constant amid changing experiences. Tiresias has lived as both man and woman, has endured suffering across time, and perceives the recurring patterns of human desire and failure.

Rather than being a single character, Tiresias embodies universal consciousness. All characters in the poem can be seen as manifestations of this shared awareness, trapped in cycles of desire, frustration, and repetition. This aligns with Hindu and Buddhist ideas of karma and samsāra, where individual lives are interconnected expressions of a larger existential process.

Seen this way, The Waste Land becomes an allegory of collective spiritual suffering. Tiresias does not judge; he witnesses. His presence suggests that liberation begins with awareness—the ability to see illusion for what it is.

Darkness, Knowledge, and the Possibility of Insight

Darkness pervades The Waste Land—dark streets, shadowy interiors, dimly lit memories. On the surface, darkness represents despair and ignorance. Yet Indian philosophical traditions complicate this symbolism.

In the Upanishads and Buddhist texts, darkness can signify both ignorance and the threshold of enlightenment. True knowledge often emerges through the negation of false understanding. Eliot’s repeated return to darkness suggests that modern humanity must confront its spiritual blindness before any renewal can occur.

This dual symbolism reflects the Indian idea that liberation is not achieved by accumulating information but by dismantling illusion. Eliot’s poetry repeatedly gestures toward this painful process of unknowing—a stripping away of false certainties that precedes genuine insight.

The Thunder Speaks: Upanishadic Ethics in What the Thunder Said

The final section of The Waste Land, “What the Thunder Said,” marks the poem’s most explicit engagement with Indian philosophy. Here, Eliot draws directly from the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upanishad, introducing the thunder’s threefold command:

Datta – Give

Dayadhvam – Sympathize

Damyata – Control

These imperatives function as ethical correctives to the moral chaos depicted earlier in the poem. Each addresses a fundamental failure of modern life.

Datta: Giving Against Possession

Modern society, as portrayed by Eliot, is dominated by hoarding—of wealth, pleasure, power, and identity. Datta challenges this impulse by advocating generosity and selflessness. In Indian thought, giving is not merely charitable action but a spiritual discipline that weakens ego attachment.

Eliot suggests that without giving, social bonds collapse and spiritual growth becomes impossible.

Dayadhvam: Compassion Against Isolation

The wasteland is populated by isolated individuals incapable of empathy. Dayadhvam calls for compassion—the recognition of shared suffering. This principle resonates deeply with Buddhist ethics, where compassion is central to liberation.

Through this injunction, Eliot implies that modern alienation is not inevitable; it is a moral failure that can be addressed through ethical awareness.

Damyata: Self-Control Against Desire

Unchecked desire drives much of the poem’s misery. Damyata emphasizes restraint, discipline, and self-mastery. In Indian philosophy, self-control is essential for both ethical living and spiritual insight.

Together, these three commands form a practical moral framework rooted in Indian Knowledge Systems, offering a path—however fragile toward renewal.

Shantih: Peace as Longing, Not Fulfillment

The poem concludes with one of its most debated lines:

“Shantih shantih shantih.”

In Indian ritual tradition, this chant marks the completion of sacred recitation and signifies peace at multiple levels—inner, worldly, and cosmic. However, Eliot’s usage is deliberately incomplete. He omits “Om,” the sacred syllable representing Brahman, the ultimate reality.

This omission is crucial. It suggests that while modern humanity can articulate the desire for peace, it lacks the spiritual unity required to realize it. Shantih becomes an expression of yearning rather than attainment.

From an IKS perspective, this ending is deeply ironic. The sacred word remains, but its living power has diminished. Peace is invoked in a world that no longer understands the conditions necessary to achieve it.

Indian Knowledge Systems and Eliot’s Vision of the Still Point

Although The Waste Land ends without full resolution, Eliot’s later works especially Four Quartets develop the idea of the “still point of the turning world.” This concept closely parallels Indian metaphysical ideas of timeless reality beyond change.

The still point represents a moment of insight where time, desire, and ego fall silent. While The Waste Land gestures toward this possibility, it remains largely trapped within the turning world. The poem thus captures the transitional moment of modern consciousness aware of spiritual emptiness but uncertain how to transcend it.

Eliot’s Cross-Cultural Synthesis: East and West in Dialogue

Eliot’s engagement with Indian philosophy does not replace his Christian commitments; instead, it enters into dialogue with them. This synthesis allows him to articulate universal spiritual concerns beyond cultural boundaries.

Indian Knowledge Systems provide Eliot with ethical clarity, metaphysical depth, and symbolic language capable of addressing modern fragmentation. They enable him to frame the crisis of modernity as not merely historical but spiritual—a condition rooted in ignorance, desire, and ethical failure.

Conclusion: The Waste Land as a Spiritual Text

When read through the lens of Indian Knowledge Systems, The Waste Land emerges as far more than a poem of despair. It becomes a profound meditation on the human condition on ignorance and awareness, illusion and insight, ethical failure and the possibility of renewal.

The Upanishadic principles of Datta, Dayadhvam, Damyata, the symbolic role of Tiresias, and the haunting invocation of Shantih reveal Eliot’s deep engagement with Indian thought. Though the poem does not offer easy solutions, it insists that spiritual and ethical regeneration remains possible through discipline, compassion, and self-knowledge.

In a fragmented modern world, The Waste Land continues to resonate because it confronts readers with an uncomfortable truth: without ethical responsibility and spiritual awareness, civilization becomes a wasteland. Indian Knowledge Systems offer not an escape from this reality, but a framework for understanding and possibly healing it.

Reference:

GRENANDER, M. E., and K. S. NARAYANA RAO. “The Waste Land and the Upanishads : What Does the Thunder Say?” Indian Literature, vol. 14, no. 1, 1971, pp. 85–98. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23330564. Accessed 11 Jan. 2026.

Chandran, K. Narayana. “‘Shantih’ in The Waste Land.” American Literature, vol. 61, no. 4, 1989, pp. 681–83. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/2927003. Accessed 11 Jan. 2026.

Sri, P. S. “Upanishadic Perceptions in T. S. Eliot’s Poetry and Drama.” Rocky Mountain Review, vol. 62, no. 2, 2008, pp. 34–49. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/20479528. Accessed 11 Jan. 2026.

Dreams in Uniform: Ambition, Identity, and Silence in Homebound

 When Ambition Meets Inequality: Reading Homebound as a Social Mirror

This blog is written as a task assigned by the head of the Department of English (MKBU), Prof. and Dr. Dilip Barad Sir.

Beyond Applause and Awards: What Homebound Quietly Tells Us About India Today

Some films do not end when the screen fades to black. They linger uncomfortably, persistently forcing the viewer to reflect not just on characters, but on the society that produced them. These films are not meant to comfort; they are meant to confront. Homebound (2025), directed by Neeraj Ghaywan, belongs firmly to this category.

Celebrated at international film festivals and mentored by a globally respected filmmaker, Homebound earned critical admiration and symbolic recognition abroad. Yet, beneath the surface of applause and prestige lies a film that exposes deep contradictions about dignity, identity, censorship, ethics, and audience responsibility in contemporary India.

This essay moves beyond a simple appreciation or critique of the film. Instead, it examines five unsettling truths that Homebound reveals truths not only about marginalized lives, but also about the uneasy relationship between art, power, and society.

1. This Is Not a Story of Poverty It Is a Story of Dignity

At first glance, Homebound appears to be another narrative about economic struggle. However, such a reading misses its emotional core. The protagonists, Chandan and Shoaib, are not merely trying to survive; they are striving to be recognized.

By portraying them as aspirants for government service specifically, the police force the film introduces a crucial shift. Their dream is not just employment but institutional legitimacy. A uniform, for them, is not fabric; it is authority, protection, and social acceptance.

For Chandan, a Dalit man, and Shoaib, a Muslim, the state represents the promise of neutrality and fairness. Their hope lies in being seen as citizens first, not as surnames or religious identities. The tragedy of Homebound lies in showing how even this aspiration is repeatedly denied. Their failure, therefore, is not individual it is systemic.

2. The Most Dangerous Violence Makes No Sound

Unlike many social dramas, Homebound avoids loud confrontations or graphic brutality. Its realism is far more unsettling. The violence here is subtle, routine, and normalized.

One of the most striking moments involves Chandan’s decision to apply under the “General” category, despite being eligible for reservation. This is not ambition it is fear. Fear of being reduced to a label. Fear of being judged before being evaluated.

Similarly, Shoaib’s experiences are filled with quiet humiliations. A rejected water bottle. Averted glances. Polite distance. These moments may seem insignificant, yet they expose how discrimination operates daily not through riots, but through silence.

The film suggests that such everyday exclusions erode the soul far more effectively than open hostility. This is oppression that does not shout it whispers.

3. When a Vegetable Becomes Political

Perhaps one of the most revealing chapters in Homebound’s journey lies outside the film itself in its encounter with censorship. The film was asked to make multiple cuts, but the most telling demands were not about political speeches or ideological critiques.

Instead, references to ordinary cultural markers—such as a common vegetable dish were removed.

This raises a disturbing question: why would such harmless details be considered threatening?

The answer lies in what these details represent. Food, language, and everyday habits are carriers of identity. By censoring them, authority attempts to flatten reality, to erase difference rather than engage with it. The fear is not of rebellion, but of recognition.

Ironically, these acts of censorship ended up amplifying the film’s message, exposing the fragility of a system unsettled by honesty.

4. Who Owns a Story of Suffering?

One of the most complex debates surrounding Homebound emerged after its release. A film praised for amplifying marginalized voices was itself accused of excluding them.

Legal disputes and public statements raised uncomfortable ethical questions: Were the real-life inspirations adequately informed? Were original creators and families properly credited and compensated?

These concerns force us to confront a difficult paradox. Is it enough to tell an important story, or does the manner of telling matter just as much?

Homebound inadvertently exposes a larger problem within socially conscious art—the risk of turning lived pain into cultural capital. Awareness, the film reminds us, cannot come at the cost of agency.

5. Applause Abroad, Silence at Home

Despite its international success, Homebound failed to find a substantial audience in its own country. The box office numbers were modest, even disappointing.

This gap between global recognition and domestic disengagement is not accidental. It reflects structural limitations—restricted distribution, lack of screens, and a market driven primarily by spectacle rather than introspection.

The irony is striking: a film rooted in Indian realities, crafted with global finesse, struggled to reach the very people it represented. This raises uncomfortable questions about what kinds of stories are considered “watchable” and which are deemed “too heavy.”

Conclusion: The Stories We Celebrate vs. The Stories We Avoid

The journey of Homebound—from script to screen, from festivals to courtrooms, from praise to neglect mirrors the contradictions of the society it portrays.

It reveals a nation willing to export its truths but hesitant to consume them. A culture that applauds realism from a distance but avoids confronting it at home.

Ultimately, Homebound does not fail because it is bleak. It unsettles because it is honest. And perhaps that honesty is what makes us uncomfortable.

The final question the film leaves us with is not cinematic it is deeply social:

What does it say about us when the most truthful stories are the ones we choose not to watch?

When Representation Turns Risky: The Ethical Dilemma Behind Home bound

Cinema often claims the power to speak for those who are rarely heard. When it succeeds, it is praised as courageous, humane, and socially necessary. But when it fails ethically, even its artistic brilliance cannot shield it from scrutiny. The 2025 film Homebound stands precisely at this uncomfortable intersection—celebrated internationally as a landmark of realist cinema, yet fiercely contested at home as an example of ethical ambiguity.

This essay examines Homebound not simply as a film, but as an ethical case study. It explores how a work lauded for amplifying marginalized voices simultaneously became embroiled in accusations of plagiarism, inadequate consent, and exploitation. Through this lens, Homebound forces us to ask a difficult but urgent question: What responsibilities do filmmakers carry when transforming lived suffering into cinematic art?

Global Applause, Local Disquiet

On the international circuit, Homebound appeared unstoppable. Premiering at Cannes to a standing ovation and later selected as India’s official Oscar entry, the film was praised for its restraint, emotional honesty, and unflinching portrayal of social inequality. Critics celebrated it as an example of Indian cinema that refused melodrama in favour of realism.

Yet, beneath this success lay a growing unease. As the film gained prestige, voices began to emerge questioning the moral foundations of its creation. Legal challenges and public statements shifted attention away from the screen and toward the processes behind it. What emerged was not merely a debate about creative freedom, but a broader reckoning with ethics, ownership, and power.

To understand these tensions, it is essential to trace the film’s origins.

From Journalism to Cinema: A Story Reframed

Homebound draws inspiration from a piece of journalistic writing that documented the devastating human cost of the COVID-19 lockdown. The original essay chronicled the ordeal of two migrant workers stranded far from home, capturing the raw precarity of labourers abandoned by both the state and the market during a national crisis.

This journalistic account was grounded in immediacy and factual intimacy. Its power lay in witnessing naming real people, real losses, and real consequences. When adapted into cinema, however, this immediacy inevitably underwent transformation.

A Creative Turn with Ethical Consequences

The most striking departure from the source material was the reimagining of the protagonists’ identities and aspirations. In Homebound, the characters are no longer migrant textile workers but young men preparing for recruitment into the police force. This shift significantly alters the narrative’s philosophical core.

Instead of focusing solely on economic vulnerability, the film foregrounds the idea of institutional dignity. The uniform becomes a symbol of legitimacy, authority, and protection a means to escape the social stigma attached to caste and religion. While this change deepens the film’s thematic ambition, it also creates distance from the real individuals whose lives initially inspired the story.

It is within this gap between lived reality and artistic reinterpretation that ethical concerns begin to intensify.

Prestige, Power, and the Politics of Production

The film’s creative team carried immense cultural capital. With a respected director, a high-profile producer, and the mentorship of an internationally revered filmmaker, Homebound was positioned as “serious cinema” from the outset. This pedigree ensured global visibility and festival credibility.

However, such power also raises expectations. When stories of marginalization are mediated through elite cultural institutions, questions inevitably arise: Who controls the narrative? Who benefits from its success? And who remains excluded from the process?

As the film reached wider audiences, these questions transformed into concrete allegations.

The Controversies That Redefined the Film

Intellectual Ownership Under Dispute

Soon after its release, Homebound faced a legal challenge alleging plagiarism. An author claimed that significant narrative elements had been appropriated from her work without authorization. Regardless of the case’s legal outcome, the accusation itself destabilized the film’s moral authority, raising concerns about originality and creative ethics.

The Silenced Subjects

More troubling, however, were the claims made by the family of the real individual whose life partially inspired one of the central characters. According to them, their involvement was minimal, their compensation negligible, and their awareness of the film’s release virtually nonexistent.

This revelation complicated the film’s social mission. A project praised for humanizing the marginalized now faced allegations of marginalizing its own sources.

At the heart of this controversy lies a critical ethical dilemma:

Can a film claim to give voice to the voiceless while excluding them from authorship, profit, and recognition?

State Control and the Fear of Everyday Truth

The ethical tensions surrounding Homebound were further intensified by state intervention. The film underwent multiple cuts mandated by certification authorities, including the removal of seemingly mundane references words, names, even food.

These edits were not ideologically explicit, yet they were deeply symbolic. They revealed a discomfort not with overt political statements, but with ordinary details that expose social divisions. Everyday life, it seems, can be more threatening than slogans.

Public criticism from the film’s actors highlighted the uneven standards applied to socially reflective cinema versus mainstream entertainment. The implication was clear: films that challenge dominant narratives face disproportionate scrutiny.

A Cinema of Quiet Suffering

Artistically, Homebound is marked by restraint. It avoids spectacle and instead accumulates meaning through small, devastating moments. Discrimination appears not as open violence but as routine exclusion—hesitations, refusals, silences.

The film’s visual language reinforces this experience. Muted colours, lingering close-ups, and an emphasis on physical exhaustion create a world where hope feels perpetually deferred. The minimalist soundscape refuses to manipulate emotion, forcing viewers to confront discomfort without cinematic relief.

Ironically, this very honesty is what made the film both powerful and controversial.

Lessons from a Troubled Triumph

The legacy of Homebound extends beyond its narrative. It exposes structural fault lines in how socially conscious cinema is produced, regulated, and consumed.

For Filmmakers

Stories drawn from marginalized lives demand more than empathy they require accountability. Ethical adaptation must involve sustained engagement, transparency, and fair compensation. Without this, representation risks becoming extraction.

For Institutions

Censorship that targets cultural specificity rather than explicit harm reveals insecurity, not protection. Institutions must learn to distinguish discomfort from danger.

For the Industry

Critical acclaim cannot substitute for sustainable distribution. If serious cinema remains commercially unsupported, the stories most in need of telling will continue to struggle for survival.

Conclusion: Who Pays the Price for “Important” Stories?

Homebound forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth: even well-intentioned art can reproduce the inequalities it seeks to expose. The film’s journey—from global celebration to ethical controversy mirrors the very systems of power it critiques.

Ultimately, the question it leaves behind is not about cinema alone, but about society itself:

When stories of suffering travel the world, who is allowed to speak and who is left behind?