Narrator: Imagine a high-flying sales manager with an MBA, working for a major electronics company in Bombay. He has a promising career, a comfortable life, and the respect of his employers. Now, imagine that same man a few years later, naked, covered in ash, and living as a wandering ascetic in the Himalayas, his only possessions a blanket and a water bottle. This is not a work of fiction. This is one of the many true stories that journalist and historian William Dalrymple encountered, a story that captures the central paradox of a nation hurtling toward the future while still deeply rooted in ancient spiritual traditions.

In his captivating book, Nine Lives: In Search of the Sacred in Modern India, Dalrymple moves beyond stereotypes of "Mystic India" to present a raw, intimate, and often startling portrait of faith in a time of radical change. He does this by stepping aside and allowing nine individuals to tell their own stories, revealing how diverse religious vocations are surviving, adapting, and sometimes struggling in the vortex of India’s economic and social metamorphosis.

Narrator: The central theme of Nine Lives is the profound tension between India's ancient spiritual landscape and its rapid modernization. Dalrymple illustrates that these two forces are not separate but are in constant, complex interaction. This is not a simple story of tradition being erased, but of it being challenged, transformed, and sometimes finding new, unexpected forms.

A powerful example is the life of Srikanda Stpathy, an idol maker in Tamil Nadu. He is the twenty-third in a direct line of sculptors stretching back to the legendary Chola empire of the 10th century. For Srikanda, creating bronze statues of the gods is not merely a craft; it is a sacred act of devotion, a holy calling passed down through his bloodline. He believes his workshop should be like a temple, and that only through prayer can an artist create a perfect sculpture. Yet, this sacred lineage faces a distinctly modern threat. His son, the heir to this ancient tradition, has no interest in becoming a sculptor. He wants to study computer engineering in Bangalore. Srikanda is left to grapple with the possibility that a thousand-year-old family legacy, one he believes is essential for creating true deities, may end with him. This personal dilemma perfectly encapsulates the book's core conflict: the pull of modernity against the weight of sacred tradition.

Narrator: In the rigid social structures of India, religion can sometimes act as a revolutionary force, temporarily turning the established order on its head. No story illustrates this better than that of Hari Das, a man who lives a starkly double life in Kerala. For ten months of the year, Hari Das is a Dalit, a member of India's lowest caste. He works as a manual laborer and a part-time prison warden, policing violent convicts in a state jail. In this life, he is at the bottom of the social ladder.

But for two months during the winter, during the ritual season of theyyam, Hari Das transforms. Through elaborate makeup, costume, and intense devotion, he becomes a vessel for the divine. He is no longer Hari Das the warden; he is an omnipotent deity, worshipped as a god by everyone in his village, including the upper-caste Brahmins who would shun him the rest of the year. As a theyyam, he has the power to bless, curse, and speak truths about social injustice directly to those in power. The performance is a ritualized inversion of the social hierarchy, a temporary space where the powerless become divine and the powerful must bow. Hari Das’s story reveals how religious practice can provide not just spiritual solace, but also a potent platform for social commentary and a radical, albeit temporary, challenge to the injustices of the caste system.

Narrator: While some lives in the book show faith adapting to modernity, others demonstrate a complete and total rejection of it. The story of Prasannamati Mataji, a Jain nun, is a profound journey into one of the world's most ascetic traditions. Born into a wealthy merchant family, she renounced all her possessions, her family, and even her name to pursue spiritual liberation. Jainism teaches that all worldly attachments bring suffering, and the only way to escape the cycle of rebirth is through extreme self-denial.

This philosophy is most powerfully and controversially expressed in the practice of sallekhana, a ritual fast unto death. Prasannamati Mataji recounts the story of her closest friend, another nun who, when afflicted with terminal illness, chose to undertake this path. Far from being seen as a suicide, which is a great sin, sallekhana is considered a triumph over death—a conscious, peaceful, and voluntary letting go of the body. It is the ultimate act of renunciation. First, a Jain ascetic gives up home and possessions; finally, they give up the body itself. This story provides a window into a worldview where the ultimate goal is not to live a better life, but to transcend life and death entirely.

Narrator: Dalrymple does not shy away from the darker side of religious life, where sacred traditions can become entangled with human suffering and exploitation. This is starkly evident in the story of Rani Bai, a devadasi or "servant of God." Dedicated as a child to the goddess Yellamma, the devadasi tradition was once an honored role. Today, for many like Rani Bai, it has become a life of ritualized prostitution.

Rani Bai was dedicated by her impoverished family and sold into sex work as a teenager. She and other devadasis are considered auspicious and are essential for certain rituals, yet they are also marginalized and exploited. As one of their songs goes, "Everyone sleeps with us, but no one marries us. Many embrace us, but no one protects." Rani Bai’s life is further complicated by the modern plague of HIV/AIDS, which has devastated her community. Despite the immense hardship and the clear disconnect between her sacred status and her daily reality, she clings to her faith in the goddess Yellamma for comfort. Her story is a heartbreaking look at how faith and exploitation can coexist, and how individuals find dignity and hope in the most difficult of circumstances.

Narrator: What happens when a religion founded on non-violence is confronted by an existential threat? This is the moral crisis at the heart of Tashi Passang’s story. He was a Tibetan Buddhist monk until the Chinese invasion of his homeland in the 1950s. Witnessing the destruction of monasteries and the persecution of his people, Passang made an agonizing choice. He renounced his monastic vows to take up arms and fight in the Tibetan resistance.

He explains the terrible dilemma with a quote: "Once you have been a monk, it is very difficult to kill a man. But sometimes it can be your duty to do so." He justified his actions by citing Buddhist scriptures that permit violence to prevent a greater sin—in this case, the destruction of the Buddhist faith itself. After fleeing to India, he served in the Indian army, but the violence he committed haunted him. For the rest of his life, Passang has been on a quest for atonement, endlessly printing prayer flags and reciting mantras to purify the bad karma he took upon himself. His story is a powerful exploration of the moral compromises forced by conflict and the lifelong psychological and spiritual burden of violence.

Narrator: In a world often defined by religious conflict, Nine Lives also celebrates the subcontinent's long history of syncretism, where different faiths blend and coexist. This is beautifully captured in the story of Lal Peri, or the "Red Fairy," a female mystic living at the Sufi shrine of Lal Shahbaz Qalander in Sindh, Pakistan. The shrine is a place of ecstatic devotion, where the lines between Hinduism and Islam blur. It is a sanctuary for the poor and the marginalized, a place where music and dance are forms of prayer.

Lal Peri, herself a refugee from religious violence in India, found solace and a home in this syncretic tradition. However, this inclusive form of Islam is under threat. The rise of hard-line, Saudi-funded Wahhabism seeks to purge these blended traditions, viewing them as impure. Dalrymple recounts the tragic destruction of another Sufi shrine by the Taliban, a stark warning of the forces gathering against the world Lal Peri inhabits. Her story is a testament to the resilience of a tolerant, mystical faith, but also a poignant reminder of its fragility in the face of rising fundamentalism.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Nine Lives is that faith in modern India is not a dying relic. It is a vibrant, dynamic, and deeply personal force that is constantly negotiating its place in a rapidly changing world. It is not being extinguished by modernity; rather, it is being reshaped into new, complex, and often paradoxical forms. The individuals in this book are not historical artifacts; they are contemporaries, grappling with iPhones and ancient rituals, global markets and divine callings.

William Dalrymple masterfully avoids the romanticized clichés of a spiritual paradise. Instead, he presents the grit, the struggle, the beauty, and the profound humanity at the heart of these nine lives. The book challenges us to look beyond simplistic headlines about tradition versus modernity and to appreciate the deeply personal and varied ways in which people search for the sacred in our own time.