Book review: Much like the Indian Constitution, cannabis is secular

This is a rather unusual book, grafted on the back of the author’s travels in 11 states in pursuit of his research on the cannabis plant and its derivatives: ganja, hemp, bhang, hashish and charas. Most of us have a nodding, if not sniffing, acquaintance with cannabis but know little about its botanical structure, origins, history, economics, legality, religious connection or medicinal value.

Karan Madhok has dug deep to educate us on these aspects, but in a manner which is personal, anecdotal and sometimes humorous. We learn that the main psychoactive ingredient in cannabis is a chemical called THC; the higher the THC the more potent the drug. The plant consists of the stem and the flower. It is the flower that contains the highest concentration of THC — from which hashish and charas are produced — and hence banned in India.

The stem has a very low level of the chemical, from which bhang, ganja and hemp are derived — these are legal. Hemp, which is used for making ropes, baskets, footwear and clothing, is an important part of the economy of Himalayan villages such as Malana in Himachal, whose Malana Cream is acknowledged to be among the finest in the world. There are also the Idukki Gold of Kerala, Odisha’s Sheelavathi and the Koraput Purple of the Andhra–Odisha border.

Be it in potent or weaker form, cannabis has been used for centuries for medicine, recreation, nutrition and has a deep connection with religion. The United Nations estimates that 4.3 per cent of adults consume cannabis, making it the most widely used, cultivated and trafficked illicit substance in the world. States are ramping up pressure to legalise the controlled cultivation of cannabis for medicinal, scientific and industrial purposes and to amend the NDPS (Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances) Act, 1985.

Uttarakhand has already done this to some extent and Himachal passed a resolution to this effect in September 2024. Such a measure could revolutionise the economies of these states and create huge employment opportunities in the agriculture, processing and transportation sectors.

Supported by statistics and independent studies, the author raises a pertinent point: is the state justified in spending humungous amounts of financial, administrative and judicial resources in enforcing the NDPS Act on drugs like cannabis? Is this even serving any purpose? The kingpins of the drug cartels are never caught, it is only the ‘foot soldiers’ — the impoverished farmer, the carrier, the middleman — who are convicted and imprisoned.

The Act gives the police and other agencies a blank cheque to harass and extort money (as in the Aryan Khan case) and breeds further corruption. The draconian prohibition of these milder and organic drugs is driving the youth to harder, more dangerous, chemical formulations. (The author points to the epidemic of the synthetic opioid fentanyl, which is reportedly responsible for two-thirds of drug-related deaths in the USA and is now the leading cause of death for Americans aged 18–49.)

Finally, he argues, this harsh policy is also depriving the state of billions of dollars of revenue, and denying livelihood opportunities to the poorest farmers in the most backward, forested and hilly areas where the plant thrives. We should learn from the USA, where half the states have already legalised cannabis, and a state like California earns about $6 billion (Rs 50,000 crore) annually by licensing its use and consumption.

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For me, the most interesting part of the book is where the author details the connection between ganja/bhang and India’s syncretic culture and religion. As he brilliantly puts it, ‘much like the Indian constitution, cannabis is secular’ and representative of the ‘Ganga–Jamuna Tehzeeb’.

Cannabis is associated with all major religions of India: it is extolled by Persian poets as a ‘heavenly guide’, considered by some Muslim sects as the embodiment of the spirit of the prophet Khidr in whose honour the Sufis consume it; in Tantric Buddhism, it is praised for its medicinal powers; the Sikh Nihangs refer to it as ‘sukha prasad’ consumed during the Hola Mohalla festivities (even though Guru Nanak is supposed to have opposed its consumption).

It is almost at the core of Hinduism, associated with practically all its major gods — Shiva, Vishnu, Krishna, Balarama, Hanuman, Jagannath — in one way or the other, and its festivals — Holi, Khumbh, Shivratri, Vijaya Dashami, Trinath Puja. It is offered to the gods and consumed in many forms at major temples across the breadth of the country.

Bhang is to be found in many of the favourite dishes/ drinks in many states, be it ice cream, laddoos, gajar ka halwa, suji ka halwa, Christmas plum pudding, pakoras, panipuri, rasgulla or majun (a confection enjoyed by Babur).

And how can we forget Bollywood. The Zeenat Aman song ‘Dum maro dum...’ in the film Hare Rama Hare Krishna (1973) became the cannabis anthem for the nation, defining the nous of a whole generation. Since then, the association has stuck with the Hindi film industry, for better or worse, through Aap Ki Kasam (Rajesh Khanna, 1974), Silsila (Amitabh Bachchan, 1980), Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani (Deepika Padukone, 2013) — culminating in the drug-related controversies surrounding Sushant Singh Rajput and Aryan Khan.

As Karan Madhok observes, we have a Janus-faced attitude to cannabis, we both worship and villainise it, and there’s such a thin line between spirituality and sin. Madhok also gives us a thumbnail account of the history and geographical spread of cannabis, beginning with Columbus arriving in America wearing a hemp jacket!

We learn that more than 50 nations have legalised or decriminalised the plant for medicinal and industrial purposes, and are reaping the benefits in terms of revenue, tourism, reduced alcohol consumption, employment and treatment of various chronic diseases.

There is a huge global market for hemp products ranging from textiles, furnishings and construction materials to rope, paint and plastic substitutes. India is not even a player in this market, with its share of the global trade at just 0.0002 per cent.

He cautions that if we do not quickly revise our NDPS-centred policy on cannabis we shall miss this bus completely. Small beginnings have been made — there are about a hundred startups in areas such as ayurvedic medicines, wellness centres, restaurants, textiles and so on but this doesn’t even scratch the surface of the vast potential that this, our very own Indian plant, offers.

The author’s final message? It’s time to reclaim the cultural, religious and medicinal heritage of cannabis as our own, before it is expropriated by other countries. We have to look back to look forward, he says. But is anyone listening?

This piece was first published in The Tribune

Avay Shukla is a retired IAS officer and author of Disappearing Democracy: Dismantling of a Nation and other works. He blogs at avayshukla.blogspot.com