Modi to Atal, Advani: Why Somnath’s Memory Endures for the BJP and Sangh Parivar

Introduction: Somnath and a Civilisational Message

Hailing the Somnath Temple in Gujarat, Prime Minister Narendra Modi recently marked the approaching millennium of its infamous sacking in 1026 AD by Mahmud of Ghazni. He asserted that “there can be no better example of our civilisation’s indomitable spirit than Somnath, which stands gloriously, overcoming odds and struggle”. In a public statement ahead of his visit to Somnath on January 11, 2026 (as part of the year-long Somnath Swabhiman Parvcommemorations), Modi stressed that “the story of Somnath… is not defined by destruction. It is defined by the unbreakable courage of crores of children of Bharat Mata”. By invoking Somnath’s saga, Modi tapped into a core theme of Hindutva ideology – linking India’s ancient civilisational ethos and resilience to its current rise on the world stage. This reflects a long-standing tradition within the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its ideological family (the Sangh Parivar) of using the Somnath temple’s history as a potent symbol of Hindu resurgence, from the era of L.K. Advani and Atal Bihari Vajpayee to today’s Modi.

Somnath: A Temple of Resilience Through a Millennium

The Somnath Jyotirlinga shrine – one of Hinduism’s most revered temples – has endured a cycle of devastation and rebirth that makes it a living metaphor for resilience. In January 1026, Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni led a brutal raid on the temple, desecrating the Shiva lingam and carting off its legendary wealth. This assault, recorded in both Hindu and Muslim chronicles, became the opening salvo in what many later described as a centuries-long series of invasions. Over the medieval period, Somnath was attacked repeatedly by subsequent rulers: accounts speak of later Khilji generals sacking it in 1299, Gujarat Sultanate forces desecrating it in the 14th–15th centuries, and finally Mughal emperor Aurangzeb ordering its demolition in 1706. Yet after each wave of destruction, the temple rose again. It was rebuilt by Hindu rulers multiple times – for example, by Kumarapala in the 12th century after Ghazni’s raid, by local kings after Delhi Sultanate depredations, and even by the Maratha queen Ahilyabai Holkar in 1783 (who erected a shrine near the ruined site). This pattern of “destroyed and rebuilt” turned Somnath into a legend of indomitable faith. As one historian notes, the tale of Mahmud’s iconoclasm became famous in Persian histories (glorifying him as an “icon of Islam”) even as in India it spawned “epics of resistance” celebrating the temple’s restorations. In other words, Somnath’s fall and resurgence created two dueling cultural memories: for the invaders it was a triumphal saga of idol-breaking, while for the temple’s devotees it became a rallying story of defiance, sacrifice, and restoration. A thousand years later, the very existence of Somnath – rebuilt yet again in the 20th century – stands as proof that spiritual heritage can survive the worst of times. Little wonder that Modi calls Somnath “a song of hope… reminding us that while hatred may destroy for a moment, faith has the power to create for eternity”.

The “1,000 Years of Invasions” Narrative vs. Secular History

For the Sangh Parivar, the 1026 sacking of Somnath has long been framed as the symbolic beginning of “1,000 years of slavery” – a millennium in which foreign Islamic conquerors subjugated India and defiled its sacred sites. Many Hindutva writers consider Mahmud’s raid on Somnath the first of many waves of invasions that eventually included the Delhi Sultanate and Mughal Empire, all seen as outsiders who ruled over a subjugated Hindu civilisation. This contrasts with the “200 years of slavery” narrative preferred by secular Indian historiography, which focuses on British colonial rule as the period of real national subjugation (arguing that most Muslim rulers, unlike the British, made India their home). The Somnath story became a touchstone in this debate over how India’s past is remembered. In the 19th century, British colonial discourse eagerly picked up the Persian accounts of Somnath’s destruction, portraying it as an epochal trauma for Hindus that justified British paternalism. As historian Romila Thapar notes, it was British interpreters who first popularised the idea that Mahmud’s temple-breaking caused a permanent civilisational wound – even raising it in Britain’s House of Commons as an example of Hindu suffering. Thapar’s research finds no contemporary Indian records of mass outrage or “trauma” from the 1026 attack; medieval Sanskrit and vernacular sources described it in matter-of-fact terms of kingdoms clashing, rather than a Hindu-Muslim civilisational war. Nonetheless, the colonial telling of Somnath seeped into Indian consciousness and was later embraced by Hindu nationalists. Even before Independence, leaders like K.M. Munshi (a future minister and temple trustee) wrote about Somnath’s fall as a symbol of the “decline of the Hindu nation” under centuries of Muslim rule. This narrative of “perennial enmity between Muslim iconoclasts and Hindu idol-worshippers”, as scholar Peter van der Veer puts it, became well-established. It helped fuel the post-Independence push to rebuild Somnath as an act of civilisational redemption. Today, BJP and RSS ideologues continue to invoke the “1000-year humiliation” narrative in contrast to the secular emphasis on the colonial period – thereby extending the timeline of historical grievance back to Somnath’s gates. The endurance of this narrative ensures that Somnath is not just ancient history, but a live political metaphor in India’s discourse on identity.

Rebuilding Somnath: Patel’s Vision and Nehru’s Objection

When India gained Independence in 1947, Somnath’s ruins became one of the first theaters where the new nation’s ideals and identities would collide. The shrine was located in Junagadh (Gujarat), a princely state with a Muslim ruler that initially acceded to Pakistan despite its Hindu majority. After India secured Junagadh’s integration, India’s first Home Minister Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel lost no time in declaring that “Somnath should be reconstructed” as a symbol of national revival. On November 12, 1947 – just a day after Junagadh’s accession – Patel visited Somnath and announced to a large gathering: “This is a holy task in which all should participate”. Patel saw the rebuilding of the temple as a project of restoring national pride, aligning with Mahatma Gandhi’s blessing that it be funded by the people (not the state) as a voluntary, cross-community endeavor. A dedicated trust (with K.M. Munshi at the helm) was set up to undertake the reconstruction, and the new temple building was completed by 1951.

However, the project stirred a debate at the highest levels of government about secularism. Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru was decidedly unenthusiastic about state officials participating in Somnath’s inauguration. To Nehru, the government of a secular republic rebuilding a shrine – however historic – set a problematic precedent. He maintained that such religious endeavors should remain strictly outside the purview of the government. In a letter to his state Chief Ministers on May 2, 1951 (just before the temple’s opening), Nehru cautioned that while public support for rebuilding Somnath was understandable, “the Government of India as such has nothing to do with it” and officials must “refrain from associating themselves with anything which tends to affect the secular character of our State”. Nehru even wrote personally to President Dr. Rajendra Prasad, urging him not to attend the inaugural ceremony at Somnath. “I do not like the idea of your associating yourself with a spectacular opening of the Somnath temple… this is not merely visiting a temple… but participating in a significant function which unfortunately has a number of implications,” Nehru warned, suggesting it was “not the time” for such a public religious spectacle. Prasad, India’s first President, ultimately ignored Nehru’s advice. He presided over the temple’s prana-pratishtha (consecration) on May 11, 1951, affirming in his speech that rebuilding Somnath was “not to open old wounds” or pursue a communal agenda, but to signal that independent India respected all faiths and would allow “each community to obtain full freedom” in worship.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi at the Somnath Temple (2026). The modern temple, rebuilt after Independence and inaugurated in 1951, stands as a monument to India’s cultural resilience.

For the Sangh Parivar, the Somnath saga of 1950–51 represents a convergence of their ideology with mainstream nationalism. They highlight that it was Patel (revered by the RSS for his firm integration of India and seen as less “soft” on Hindu issues than Nehru) who championed the temple’s restoration. They point out that even Mahatma Gandhi gave his assent (albeit with the caveat of using public funds, not taxpayer money) and that Rajendra Prasad defied Nehru’s secular reservations to dignify a Hindu shrine. This narrative allows Hindutva proponents to claim a kind of historical validation, arguing that the ethos of reclaiming Somnath was shared by respected national leaders across the spectrum. At the same time, Nehru’s well-documented distaste for the Somnath project is frequently cited by BJP/RSS commentators as evidence of the early Congress’s allegedly “appeasement” mindset or antipathy to India’s Hindu heritage. In BJP discourse, Nehru’s stance is often contrasted with Modi’s open embrace of the temple’s legacy – an implied narrative of the nation finally reclaiming its civilisational confidence after an era of hesitation.

Advani’s Rath Yatra: Somnath as a Political Launchpad

If Somnath’s reconstruction laid a postcolonial foundation, it was Lal Krishna Advani’s 1990 Rath Yatra that truly catapulted the temple into frontline politics. Advani, then BJP President, deliberately chose Somnath as the starting point of his famous “Ram Rath Yatra” — a month-long chariot procession that would canvass north India to drum up support for building a Ram temple at Ayodhya. On September 25, 1990, Advani flagged off his saffron-festooned Toyota truck (styled as a mythic chariot) from the Somnath Temple, Gujarat. This was a highly symbolic choice. As Advani himself later explained, “Somnath was both a witness to, and a target of, multiple foreign invasions… Reconstructing the Somnath temple was a proud testimony of India’s determination to erase the history of bigoted alien attacks and regain its lost cultural treasure”. By beginning the Ayodhya movement at Somnath, Advani drew a direct parallel between the two temples. “In many ways, the Ayodhya movement was the continuation of the spirit of Somnath,” he wrote, linking the 16th-century Babri Masjid (allegedly built over a destroyed Ram temple) to Mahmud’s medieval iconoclasm at Somnath. The implication was clear: just as Somnath had been rebuilt as a symbol of reclaimed honor, the Ram Janmabhoomi in Ayodhya should be “liberated” and a grand temple erected there. Somnath thus served as the ideological blueprint and inspiration for the Ayodhya campaign. It provided a historical narrative that resonated with crowds – a tale of loss and revival that could be mapped onto Ayodhya’s case.

BJP leader L.K. Advani launching the Somnath-to-Ayodhya Rath Yatra at Somnath Temple in September 1990. The banner behind him reads “Somnath–Ayodhya Rath Yatra,” underscoring the intended parallel between the two temple campaigns.

The Somnath-to-Ayodhya Rath Yatra proved to be a watershed for the BJP. Advani’s journey, which coursed through multiple states before he was arrested in Bihar, injected the Hindutva movement with mass momentum. The imagery of starting at Somnath – site of the “first” Islamic attack – and ending at Ayodhya – scene of a later disputed mosque – powerfully conveyed a continuity of struggle. It reinforced the Hindutva narrative of a civilisational conflict spanning centuries, now coming to a head in the present. The Yatra succeeded in galvanizing karsevaks (volunteer activists) and polarizing public opinion, eventually leading to the demolition of the Babri Masjid in 1992 and a surge in the BJP’s popularity. As political analysts note, this campaign was the entry point of Hindutva into mainstream politics; the BJP grew from a marginal player to a national force in the 1990s on the wave of temple-centric mobilization. And it all began at Somnath – a fact continuously invoked by BJP stalwarts. (Notably, a young Narendra Modi was among those present at Somnath on September 25, 1990, helping flag off Advani’s Yatra. This literal presence at the genesis of a movement linking Somnath to Hindutva’s political rise is often highlighted to underline Modi’s own ideological lineage.)

Vajpayee’s “Thorn in the Flesh”: Somnath’s Lingering Echo

Even BJP leaders known for moderate tones, like former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee, have not been immune to Somnath’s emotive pull. Vajpayee, who led the first BJP-led government in the late 1990s, had earlier articulated how the tale of Somnath and Mahmud of Ghazni haunted him from youth. In a famous speech on Hindutva ideologue V.D. Savarkar in the mid-1980s, Vajpayee recalled a personal anecdote: as India’s External Affairs Minister in 1977, he visited Kabul and insisted on making a side-trip to Ghazni in Afghanistan. His hosts were puzzled – Ghazni was then an inconspicuous town – and asked what he expected to find there. Vajpayee mused that he “could not tell them the full thing.” In truth, he said, “Ghazni has been a thorn in my flesh since I read in adolescence about a plunderer who came from there… A plunderer gathered a band… and came to plunder the golden bird (sone ki chidiya)”. The “plunderer” was of course Mahmud of Ghazni, and the “golden bird” a metaphor for India’s fabled wealth. Vajpayee’s poignant recollection reveals how deeply the Somnath saga had permeated the psyche of even mainstream nationalist leaders. The image of Mahmud smashing the revered Shiva lingam and looting Somnath’s treasures was, to Vajpayee, not just a distant historical footnote but a personal pain point – “a thorn in my flesh”. Such rhetoric from Vajpayee underscored that the memory of Somnath as a symbol of historical wrongs transcended hardline circles and had been absorbed into the broader nationalist narrative. It provided moral justification, in the minds of leaders like him, for why a muscular assertion of Hindu identity (as epitomized by Savarkar or the Ram Janmabhoomi movement) was perhaps necessary. Vajpayee’s reflection also signaled continuity: the emotional chord struck by Somnath’s story linked an older generation of freedom-fighter era leaders to the post-1980s Hindutva generation. In essence, Somnath endured as a rallying memory that could invoke righteous anger or resolve across decades of political thought.

Modi and the Eternal “Somnath Spirit”

As the current standard-bearer of the BJP, Narendra Modi has fully embraced the Somnath legacy and woven it into his vision of a “New India.” Not only is Modi one of the trustees of the Somnath Temple Trust (by virtue of being Gujarat’s former Chief Minister), he often references the temple in speeches to exemplify India’s ancient glory and resilience. On the cusp of the 1000th anniversary of Mahmud’s raid, Modi authored an elaborate piece titled “Somnath Swabhiman Parv – 1,000 Years of Unbroken Faith” (Indian Express, Jan 2026), in which he expounded on the temple’s significance. He recounted the harrowing attack of 1026 AD – “a violent and barbaric invasion” aimed at destroying “a great symbol of faith and civilisation” – only to highlight that “one thousand years later, the Temple stands as glorious as ever”. Modi lauded the “numerous efforts” over centuries to restore Somnath, including the 1951 reconstruction which was then 75 years old (in 2026). Crucially, he repeated the line that has become almost doctrine now: “the story of Somnath… is not defined by destruction” but by the “unbreakable courage” of the people. This focus on victorhood rather than victimhood is a hallmark of Modi’s politics of emphasis. He acknowledges the suffering (“each line of the historical accounts… carries grief and cruelty”, as he wrote), but swiftly pivots to celebrating the “eternal spirit” that rebuilt Somnath and, by extension, is propelling India today. In Modi’s telling, the “aggressors of history have faded into obscurity, whereas Somnath continues to inspire generations”. This mirrors his broader message that India, after centuries of subjugation, is now resurging as a confident global power – much like Somnath rising from its ruins.

Politically, Modi’s invocation of Somnath serves multiple purposes. Domestically, it reassures the BJP’s core base that he remains committed to the Hindutva narrative of righting historical wrongs and honoring Hindu heritage. By reminding audiences that Nehru had been “not too enthused” about the Somnath inauguration in 1951 and tried to dissuade leaders from attending it, Modi implicitly positions himself as correcting a Nehruvian era “mistake”. “Pandit Nehru said this event created a bad impression of India. But Dr. Rajendra Prasad stood firm and the rest is history,” Modi wrote pointedly. This not-so-subtle contrast elevates the BJP’s long-held contention that Nehruvian secularism undervalued India’s indigenous culture. Internationally, Modi has also cast Somnath’s narrative in contemporary terms: during the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan in 2021, he cited the temple’s history while warning that tyrannical ideologies may win temporary victories but “cannot keep humanity suppressed for long”. Thus, he linked the medieval iconoclasm of Mahmud with the modern extremism of the Taliban, implying that just as Somnath survived religious tyranny, so will the world overcome new threats. By doing so, Modi frames India (and himself) as a moral force against intolerance, with Somnath as a guiding emblem.

Finally, the 1000-year commemoration events at Somnath in January 2026, with Modi participating, underscore how the temple remains a vibrant part of current politics. The Somnath Trust and government organized exhibitions, spiritual gatherings, and youth programs under the banner “Somnath Swabhiman (self-respect) Parv”. Such celebrations were designed to instill pride in the country’s heritage among the public. As Modi wrote, “if Somnath could reclaim its glory after centuries of assault, India too could reclaim its civilisational confidence and global leadership”. In essence, Modi has re-articulated Somnath as synonymous with India itself – “wounded, rebuilt, and rising”. This seamless blending of past and present has ensured that Somnath’s memory is not a relic, but a rallying narrative powering nationalist sentiment in the 21st century.

Conclusion: An Enduring Symbol in Hindutva Imagination

From the reconstruction efforts of Sardar Patel and K.M. Munshi in the 1950s, through L.K. Advani’s rath yatra in 1990, to Narendra Modi’s millennial homage in 2026, the Somnath temple has remained a lodestar for the BJP and the Sangh Parivar. Its enduring appeal lies in its unique story – a grand shrine repeatedly razed by invaders and yet never erased from the soul of the nation. For the Hindu nationalist imagination, Somnath encapsulates a civilisational journey from subjugation to resurgence. It is at once a reminder of historical wounds and a monument to collective healing. The temple’s saga checks all the boxes that make for a compelling political narrative in India: faith, heroism, loss, and ultimate triumph. By invoking Somnath, BJP leaders invoke a thousand years of history to bolster their contemporary message of cultural pride and self-assertion.

In summary, several key factors explain why the Somnath memory endures so strongly in BJP-Sangh discourse:

In conclusion, Somnath endures in the BJP and Sangh Parivar’s memory not merely as a temple, but as a timeless story that encapsulates their view of India – a 5,000-year-old civilisation that has survived plunder and oppression by holding on to its faith and ultimately triumphing. Modi’s recent commemoration of Somnath in the context of India’s global rise is the latest chapter in this ongoing saga. As long as the politics of cultural nationalism thrives in India, the cry of “Somnath” – much like the temple’s eternal jyotirlinga – will continue to shine as a beacon, illuminating the past to inspire the future.

Sources: The Indian Express; Indian Express (Vikas Pathak, Jan 2026); Indian Express (Adrija Roychowdhury, Aug 2021); NDTV; Struggle for Hindu Existence; Advani in Rashtradharma via Indian Express; Romila Thapar, Somnatha: The Many Voices of a History (2004) via Indian Express.