The RSS Code

by Nikhil Patidar

224 pages, Paperback

Published May 12, 2025

Reviews

[Ishan Kargutkar · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you’re someone who scoffs at the idea that the RSS has any real influence on India’s modern political backbone, The RSS Code will challenge you without yelling slogans at you. I admired how Patidar uses Shiva’s personal journey to quietly argue that ideology, not just party politics, shapes a nation’s soul. The real turning point for me was when Shiva realises the RSS doesn’t chase power but builds silent strength in communities. The story shows how one Saraswati Shishu Mandir, if revived, can become a spark to preserve Sanatan roots. No dramatic heroics — just quiet conviction that refuses to die. I think this will appeal to readers who are tired of empty debates on TV and want to see how ideas ripple through real lives.

[Pushkar Chaudhary · Rating 3 out of 5]

The brief conversation between Shiva and Abbas about the Kargil war is probably my favourite scene. Shiva’s shock when Abbas casually says his father wishes India would lose so it becomes a Muslim nation — it hit me hard. It’s not about painting communities with one brush; it’s about the uncomfortable truth that sometimes our neighbours’ dreams clash with ours. The book doesn’t milk this moment for drama — it just lets it sit there, an echo that shapes Shiva’s questions for the rest of his life. If you like books that force you to think twice about assumptions, you’ll appreciate this raw honesty.

[Bapun Chakraborty · Rating 5 out of 5]

What’s the real hero of The RSS Code? It’s not Shiva, not even the RSS as an organisation — it’s the humble Saraswati Shishu Mandir. This school becomes the heartbeat of the entire narrative. The author shows how these traditional schools, once bustling with spirit and prayers, are now struggling under the shadow of English-medium missionary schools. The scenes with Ramashankar Sir staying loyal even without pay felt painfully real to me as a teacher’s child. When Shiva returns to the old SSM playground and feels that lost ‘Gurukul’ vibe, you can’t help but grieve for what’s vanishing. The book made me look at our neighbourhood schools with new eyes.

[Durba Chakraborty · Rating 4 out of 5]

I didn’t expect to feel this much for a fictional seventh-grader. Shiva isn’t a perfect hero — he’s angry, curious, frustrated, and so raw that you want to shake him and tell him everything will be fine. But in his village and then in that convent school, you realise why he struggles so much to hold on to his identity. The moment when his Saraswati Shishu Mandir is attacked by political goons in Bengal genuinely shook me. It’s not just a building that’s torn apart — it’s a symbol that everything he’s clung to can be destroyed overnight. The review takeaway for me: culture is fragile if we forget how to protect it.

[Pretty Soul · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of my favourite things about this book is how it doesn’t pretend communal tensions don’t exist. The cricket match where Muslim boys come to play with Shiva and his Shakha friends feels innocent — until subtle misunderstandings bubble up. Then there’s Abbas telling Shiva that his father hopes India loses the war with Pakistan. None of this is exaggerated — it feels like honest discomfort that many families hush up at dinner tables. I appreciate that Patidar doesn’t paint anyone evil; he shows confusion, fear, and the failure to bridge trust. It’s bold storytelling in an age when people are too scared to write plainly.

[Soulflower · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you think the RSS is just about politics or elections, this book gently sets you straight. Patidar’s narrative makes it clear that the real power isn’t who holds Parliament today, but who shapes young minds for tomorrow. The dialogues between Vishu, Aarav, and other Swayamsevaks kept me glued — they debate if the RSS should ever step into politics directly, and what happens when it stays behind the curtain. And that final message — the BJP may rise or fall, but the Sangh is eternal — stayed with me. You may disagree with the politics, but the commitment to an idea bigger than any seat of power is worth reflecting on.

[Rohini · Rating 5 out of 5]

There’s a line in The RSS Code that stuck with me: Shiva’s real test is not just surviving modernity but staying true to himself while surrounded by it. That’s the whole point of this book for me. As a young reader who’s grown up in English-medium schools, I felt like Shiva’s frustration with the missionary curriculum mirrored my own confusion — we read more about colonial icons than our own stories. The book isn’t subtle about its bias, but maybe it shouldn’t be. I wish more students would read this, not to agree with every line, but to wonder if we’ve traded roots for polished English degrees.

[Hiral · Rating 5 out of 5]

Many people ask — why do some Indians defend the RSS so fiercely even today? The RSS Code answers that in layers. It’s not because of politics or slogans — it’s because of ordinary people like Shiva who keep asking, “What if we lose our roots?” The scenes where the Shishu Mandir struggles for fees while missionary schools flourish shows the imbalance we rarely talk about. You may not buy the ideology, but you can’t ignore the imbalance it highlights. A must-read if you want to know the ‘why’ behind headlines.

[Himanshu · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book reminded me of my grandfather’s bedtime stories about his village Gurukul — boys rising before sunrise, chanting prayers, learning life skills, growing up rooted in something deeper than marks and degrees. The RSS Code mourns how that system has been sidelined by English-medium schools that promise status but leave culture empty. My heart ached reading Shiva’s nostalgia for morning hymns at SSM. It made me realise that for some families, these schools were more than classrooms — they were lifelines to identity. That perspective alone makes this book worth your time.

[Shrishti Mishra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Objectively: the book is structured around a singular protagonist, Shiva, whose journey arcs from ideological innocence to local institutional leadership. Core conflicts: cultural dilution via Westernised education, perceived demographic shifts, tension with left-liberal state mechanisms. Case study: the Saraswati Shishu Mandir model as a prototype for grassroots cultural resilience. Net takeaway: ideological frameworks persist longer than electoral cycles. Recommend for readers tracking India’s sociocultural narrative trends.

[Neo_007 · Rating 4 out of 5]

At first glance, you might think The RSS Code is just a story about politics — but it’s really a story about confusion. Shiva’s confusion is the reader’s confusion: Where do I stand? Who am I in a modern, Westernised India? Patidar’s trick is simple — he doesn’t resolve every question. Instead, he shows you how tension and doubt can be fuel for conviction. This won’t appeal to everyone — if you hate books that leave you with more questions than answers, stay away. But if you like books that linger in your head, it’s worth it.

[Anshul · Rating 5 out of 5]

What I found striking is how honest the book is about disagreements within the RSS. Vishu wants a more aggressive approach, Mahesh pulls him back to Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam — it’s real ideological friction. It proves the Sangh isn’t a monolith but a web of people trying to define what Hindu unity means in a messy, modern India. You don’t often see these internal debates laid bare. It shows that the real conflict is not just with the outside world but within. For me, that’s where the book’s soul lies.

[Supriya · Rating 5 out of 5]

For me, the Bengal sections were the hardest to read. Shiva watching political violence unfold, his school attacked at night, the fear of speaking up — it all feels too real for 2025. I live in Kolkata and I know what the author is hinting at. The scene where RSS workers are thrown out of a police station for filing a complaint gave me chills. If you think this is an exaggeration, you probably haven’t looked outside your window lately. It’s uncomfortable, but that’s exactly why you should read it.

[Anamika · Rating 5 out of 5]

You might expect The RSS Code to be a dry manifesto, but it’s surprisingly tender. The parts about fathers, sons, teachers — all the unsung keepers of culture — moved me. The book’s real argument is that nations are shaped not by policies but by ordinary people who hold a moral line when the world pushes them to drop it. That thought hit me hardest when Shiva chooses to leave a convent school that offered better prospects just to reconnect with his lost values. That quiet sacrifice is the book’s heartbeat.

[Sunidhi · Rating 5 out of 5]

What I respect about The RSS Code is that it doesn’t pretend to please everyone. Patidar is unapologetic about what he’s trying to say — that a nation without a strong backbone of culture is just waiting to collapse under shiny Western packaging. You can disagree — and you probably will — but you can’t dismiss it. The scenes connecting real-world events like 9/11, Godhra, and the rise of the BJP under Modi give the book a sharp edge. This isn’t bedtime reading. It’s a mirror held up to a messy reality.

[Irani · Rating 5 out of 5]

For me, this was a book about the small invisible people — fathers who raise children on thin paychecks, teachers who don’t get paid for months but show up anyway, young boys who ask questions adults fear to answer. Patidar captures these silent warriors beautifully. Shiva’s anger could have turned violent, but it turns into service — that’s the twist that makes this book hopeful instead of cynical. The final scenes where he rebuilds the SSM as a beacon made me tear up. It’s not a fairytale ending — it’s a seed of possibility.

[Yasmin · Rating 5 out of 5]

One is reminded, whilst leafing through Patidar’s narrative, of the old accounts of Gurukuls tucked within dusty folios of forgotten Bharat. Shiva’s lament is not for himself alone but for the erosion of a moral soil tilled over millennia. The episode wherein his beloved school is razed to broken walls and scattered hymns — ah, that smoulders like an ember in our collective conscience. If one must glimpse a vision of India’s embattled soul, this volume serves.

[Soumya Shahdeo · Rating 5 out of 5]

At the end, when Shiva clutches Pandey Sir’s letter that promise that the seed of an old, honest school will sprout again I just sat there, staring at my walls. I imagined a new playground rising from ashes, a boy reciting a prayer he’d forgotten. For all its bold stances, The RSS Code is really about one fragile, beautiful thing: hope. Hope that somewhere, someone will care enough to rebuild when the world burns it down.

[Not A Bookhoarder · Rating 3 out of 5]

As a text, The RSS Code offers a fictionalised insight into the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh’s grassroots approach. Shiva’s ideological disillusionment with modern missionary education is underpinned by socio-religious anxieties. Primary motifs include cultural preservation, perceived demographic threats, and institutional resilience. Literary merit is uneven, but sociopolitical students will find layered signals within Shiva’s dialogues on community mobilisation.

[Onepiece · Rating 5 out of 5]

I picked up The RSS Code expecting dry politics but stayed hooked because of Shiva’s raw, questioning spirit. Watching a boy wrestle with his faith, identity, and modernity hit closer to home than I imagined. The way the author weaves real events like Godhra, 9/11, and the Anna Hazare movement into Shiva’s journey feels unsettling yet honest. For me, the book’s real question is: what does ‘roots’ mean when the world wants you uprooted?

[Afrin Parveen · Rating 5 out of 5]

One is reminded, whilst leafing through Patidar’s narrative, of the old accounts of Gurukuls tucked within dusty folios of forgotten Bharat. Shiva’s lament is not for himself alone but for the erosion of a moral soil tilled over millennia. The episode wherein his beloved school is razed to broken walls and scattered hymns — ah, that smoulders like an ember in our collective conscience. If one must glimpse a vision of India’s embattled soul, this volume serves.

[Shweta · Rating 4 out of 5]

From a leadership perspective, The RSS Code is about sustaining mission-driven institutions under hostile conditions. Shiva’s pivot from passive participant to strategic operator is fascinating. He identifies structural decay — poor teacher pay, no funding streams — then aligns with Vidya Bharati to reboot the SSM model. His “one school to a thousand” mindset is pure scalable thinking. There’s an unspoken MBA lesson buried in this ideological story: build enduring frameworks, not just slogans.

[yappingyashi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Why is no one talking about how this book basically slaps you awake? The RSS Code doesn’t whisper sweet unity slogans — it rips the bandage off. When Shiva tells Vishu the BJP is just a temporary costume the RSS wears when needed, you either grin or get furious. I did both. It’s not subtle. It’s not neutral. It wants you to squirm in your seat, asking if all this “neutral education” is just a polite mask for cultural amnesia. It worked on me.

[Jyotismita Dutta · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book lowkey reminds you that big revolutions start in tiny dusty classrooms. Shiva’s rage when his SSM gets wrecked? Felt that. His plan to rebuild with or without state help? Big mood. I’m no RSS fanboy, but the way Patidar shows kids learning prayers and history instead of TikToks for once — kind of hits different. Might flip your head, might not. Worth a flip-through if you like your politics with some real dirt on it.

[Suhana · Rating 5 out of 5]

Would I read it again? Maybe not in one go — it’s heavy, dense, sometimes repetitive when Shiva debates the same questions. But the parts I bookmarked — especially the conversations with the Guru and the scene where the old teacher explains why he still stays in the SSM without salary — those bits are gold. It’s a book I’ll return to in small pieces, maybe to remind myself what real commitment looks like.

[Shaurya · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think The RSS Code will split readers. If you already dislike the RSS, you might read it as glorification. If you blindly idolise it, you might find it too honest about the internal debates and failures. Either way, it’s not a forgettable book. It takes guts to write about violence in Bengal, decline of Gurukuls, and infiltration of missionary ideas — all in one thread. Even when I disagreed with Shiva’s choices, I respected his clarity.

[Gungun · Rating 5 out of 5]

This isn’t a thriller or a twist-filled page-turner. It’s a slow-burn narrative for patient readers who like to chew on an idea. For me, the big question was: what is truly worth preserving? Shiva’s fight isn’t dramatic sword-waving; it’s a daily grind of saving a local school, resisting ideological dilution, and daring to believe that Sanatan values can stay relevant in a Netflix world. That tension between old and new is the fire that keeps the book alive.

[Simran · Rating 3 out of 5]

One thing I wish people wouldn’t miss is the spiritual layer beneath all the politics. Shiva’s talk with Guru Chaitanya Dev when he’s in despair — “Injustice is inside you; the world is your reflection” — is timeless wisdom, not propaganda. That chapter alone made me pause and breathe. It reminds us that the biggest revolutions start inside the mind, not outside it. The book may wear the RSS label, but sometimes it feels like a quiet guide to handling chaos with stillness.

[Maitreyee Sarma · Rating 5 out of 5]

I felt something ache inside when Shiva visits his old Saraswati Shishu Mandir playground. I grew up in one too, back when morning prayers felt like an anchor. I’d forgotten that smell of dusty playgrounds and lunchbox gossip. Reading this was like revisiting my own half-lost childhood. It’s not perfect — some parts drag — but when Shiva stands alone under the peepal tree, I swear I could hear my own school bell echo.

[Pori Goswami · Rating 5 out of 5]

Understanding My Bias

Reading The RSS Code made me confront my own biases about the RSS. I grew up hearing negative media narratives, but this book helped me explore the ideological depth and discipline of its workers. It challenged me to reconsider what it means to preserve culture in modern India.