When Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar embraced Buddhism in 1956, millions followed him. They threw away the gods they had worshipped for centuries and took to Buddha as interpreted by Ambedkar. Many did not forgive him for his treachery to Hinduism. Others carpingly denounced him for engineering a division among the Hindu fold. But the former Hindu "untouchables" revered him for giving them the self-respect which they could never hope for in their old religion.

Love him or hate him. But you can't ignore him.

More than his seminal exercise in drafting India's Constitution, Ambedkar stands out as one who breathed in Hindu untouchables a spirit to fight for reassertion of their human rights. And though he is berated for denigrating the Hindu religion, four decades after his death the more heinous aspects of the caste system have mellowed considerably, not least because of his tireless war.

India has always been in two minds while evaluating Ambedkar. More so because of the iconic stature lent to him by his followers and subsequently by the state. The latter, many believe, was a result of sheer political opportunism.

Some acerbic Hindutva votaries belittled his role in the making of the Constitution, calling him a stooge of the British -- which is far from fair. "I have no homeland," he once complained to Mahatma Gandhi. The running battles between the two on how to reform Hindu society had made Ambedkar suspect in the eyes of many Gandhians. But the iconoclast in Ambedkar had rarely spared Gandhi of his acid tongue.

Educated in the US and UK, Ambedkar was a passionate liberal democrat. Though later he angrily described himself as the "handmaiden" of the Congress while drafting the Constitution -- the bitterness was caused by his frustrating attempt to legislate the Hindu civic code -- the document's liberal democratic thrust toward socio-economic justice owe no less to his dominating presence as the chairman of the drafting committee.

Ambedkar's critics may be forgiven for accusing him of cooperating with the British and on occasions running down the struggle against imperialism. They are confused.

While Gandhi did acknowledge Ambedkar's "sterling patriotism" displayed in the first Round Table Conference, he opposed the idea of separate electorates for the "untouchables" and even went on a historic fast unto death. "My life or separate electorates," he declared. Ultimately, he agreed to a compromise, carrying the bitter taste of defeat all his life. More than anything else, the nationalist perception of Ambedkar is coloured by this episode.

Both Gandhi and Ambedkar advocated a socio-economic-political transformation of Hindu society as a whole to reduce caste exploitation. Their working strategies were what differed. Gandhi's was Vaishnavite and had a Brahminical perspective from above. Ambedkar was at the bottom of the pit. For Gandhi, the struggle against imperialism was of paramount importance requiring unity of all Indians, irrespective of caste and creed.

Ambedkar scorned Gandhi's soft approach. For him untouchability and caste discrimination were the crassest violence against basic values and therefore the struggle against this inequality should have primacy. Everything else, including the freedom struggle, was secondary. He believed the moral timber and political dynamism of a society could be measured from the morale of the lowest class. The cause he espoused was a national cause and a contribution to Hinduism itself, he felt.

Ambedkar's problem was he could not confront two powerful enemies at a time -- the British and savarna exploiters. His priority for social reforms forced on him tactical alliances with the British whose presence, he said, checked caste Hindu oppressors.

When Ambedkar realised that the Hindu system was an impregnable fortress and that his people would never be treated equally there, he started looking for an alternative, a religion, a moral social order which would not sanctify exploitation of man by man, and would not legitimise supremacy of one over another on the basis of birth. As he interpreted it, Buddhism provided the most rational answer.

Ambedkar's Buddhism was not steeped in superstition. Though he hated the Communist concept of a state, he borrowed many ideas from Karl Marx. For him, there was no other world, no other life.

Ambedkar died at the age of 65 in 1956, a couple of months after embracing Buddhism and his dream to propagate it the world over remained unfulfilled. Therein lies the fatal flaw in his character. He aroused India's deprived into action. But he was not an organisation man -- he failed to forge sound organisational structures to carry the work forward. He founded three political parties all of which withered away, two during his lifetime. He could not raise a second line of leadership which could sustain his movements. Tens of thousands of his garish statues raised all over India do not compensate for the same organisational and ideological bankruptcy that the Dalits of India suffer from today.

"I am born a Hindu," Ambedkar said in 1936, "but I swear I will not die a Hindu." Twenty years of study went into his decision to take to Buddhism. But equal thought was not given to organisation and the larger social ramifications. And therein lies the tragedy of the Dalit movement.

Arun Sadhu is former editor, Free Press Journal. Author of Simhasan (The Throne), he has scripted a film on Ambedkar.