Attending the Lata Dinanath Mangeshkar Puraskar was not just a ceremonial experience—it was a reminder of the moral compass this nation must urgently realign itself with. The highlight of the evening was the speech delivered by RSS Sarsanghchalak Dr Mohan Bhagwat, whose words were not only deeply impactful but also carried a precise message—Bharat must unite or risk erosion from within and attacks from beyond.
He began by acknowledging the very purpose of the award—recognising individuals who have made significant contributions to society and nation-building. “When society appreciates its own”, he said, “it sustains its values and nurtures excellence.” This wasn’t a hollow statement; it was a powerful call to build a culture where positivity is acknowledged and reinforced, rather than ignored or ridiculed.
He urged the audience to not merely applaud achievements in formal ceremonies but to consciously appreciate those around us in daily life. “If you can’t organise an award function, at least take a moment to recognise good qualities in people near you. Acknowledge their strengths first. Only then can you guide them through their weaknesses.” In an age of criticism without contribution, his message was sharp and necessary.
But the speech grew firmer as he addressed the pressing issue of societal fragmentation. He stressed that divisions—of caste, language, and region—are weakening the fabric of Hindu society. “The feeling of belonging arises when unity is practised as a principle, not as convenience.” It was a bold indictment of the identity politics that has plagued us for too long. Unity is not a slogan—it is a duty.
The most emotional and hard-hitting part of his speech was his reaction to the recent Pahalgam terror attack in Kashmir. Innocent tourists were shot dead after being asked their religion. “No Hindu would ever do such a thing,” he stated clearly, his voice heavy with both grief and controlled anger. “Because Hindu Dharma, in its essence, is humanity. But let us be clear—if we were united, no one would dare do this to us.”
Then came a lesson from our own Itihasa. He recalled how even Ravana, a mighty scholar, had to be slain because he refused to transform. “Ram didn’t want to kill Ravana. He wanted to reform him. But when that failed, action had to be taken.” The message was unambiguous—when evil does not retreat, it must be confronted with strength.
He invoked the image of Ashtabhuja Devi—the goddess with eight arms, each holding a weapon to eliminate evil. “We need such strength today,” he said. “Moral strength, mental courage, strategic capability. Softness without power is not virtue. It is a vulnerability.”
With precision, he referenced 1962, the year of the Sino-Indian War. “Nature punished us then for not having a capable army.” That defeat was not just territorial; it was psychological. But times have changed. “Now there is anger. But there is hope too. This time, it feels like hope will be fulfilled.”
His words rang like a warning bell when he said, “Only the powerful can afford non-violence. The weak have no such luxury. And if we have power, we must display it when required.” This is not warmongering—it is realism rooted in dharma. Non-violence is not surrender. It is restraint with strength.
Toward the end, he told a symbolic story. A lion, arrogant in his belief that he is the king, bullies smaller animals who all confirm his power. But when he asks an elephant the same question, the elephant flings him aside. “You can intimidate the weak,” Bhagwat ji said, “but the strong will answer differently.”
This wasn’t just a story. It was a statement of where Bharat needs to stand today. We must not be a society that breaks in fear. We must be like the elephant—firm, composed, and ready to respond with strength when provoked.
His speech ended not in applause but in silence—because it left everyone thinking. Thinking about what it really means to be united. Thinking about what we owe our civilisation. Thinking about what it takes to protect Dharma—not just in temples, but in thought, in speech, in conduct.
This was not a speech of empty nationalism. It was a clarion call—to rise, to unite, and to act.
And in that moment, every word felt like a vow we all needed to take—for our society, our dharma, and our Bharat.
