Gandhi during Dandi Salt March of 1930/ Pic Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
The sandy beach of Chowpatty at the start of Mumbai’s Marine Drive is a popular hangout during weekends. But few of the revelers who go there know that in the April of 1930, this stretch of sand was taken over by hundreds of women, who as an act of defiance against the British, set up impromptu stoves to extract salt from the waters of the Arabian Sea. Those were the heady days of Mahatma Gandhi’s ‘Salt Satyagraha’, and the women of Bombay were at its forefront here.
In 1930 Mahatma Gandhi decided to take up cudgels against the British for taxing the most basic ingredient in any meal – salt. The India Salt Act of 1882 not just allowed the government to have a monopoly on the collection and manufacture of salt, it also allowed them to tax it. To mark his protest, Mahatma Gandhi initiated the famous Dandi March, from his home in Sabarmati near Ahmedabad to Dandi, a small coastal village.
The idea was to produce salt from the seawater in defiance against the British.
Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay (L) with Sarojini Naidu (R)/ Pic Courtesy: Press Information Bureau India
The idea caught on and spread fast. On 6th April 1930, a group of women led by Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay, a noted freedom fighter, marched to Chowpatty and started making salt from sea water on makeshift stoves or chulhas.
Huge crowds had gathered at Chowpatty to witness the scene, some even climbed up trees to watch what was happening. Things however turned rough, when the police attacked and lathi-charged the protestors.
The leader of the movement, Kamaladevi herself fell into the hot coals of her stove as she was hit by a police lathi. She suffered severe burns but refused to call off the protest and go to the hospital. Soon, despite police attempts, the crowds grew and hordes of housewives carrying pots and pans joined the ranks.
Later, all the salt that had been collected was put in small packets and sold in small kiosks outside the Bombay Stock Exchange and the Bombay High Court. The BSE remained closed to mark its solidarity with the movement! The first packet prepared by Kamaladevi was auctioned for the huge sum of Rs. 501!
The ‘Salt Satyagraha’ went on for days in Bombay. Salt pans were created on the terrace of the Congress House, the headquarters of the Congress party located in the Opera House area of Mumbai.
When police raided the Congress House, the women there formed human shields to block their path.
View of Chowpatty from the early 19th century/ Wikimedia Commons
On 13th April 1930, a mass meeting was organised at Chowpatty which was attended by about 50,000 people. The speakers included Sarojini Naidu, Mrs. Perin Captain (grand-daughter of Dadabhai Naoroji) and Mr. Abid Ali Jafferbhai, among others. They encouraged people to manufacture salt in their homes and in their localities and boycott government salt. Despite barricades, hartals and lathi-charge, crowds kept coming to Chowpatty.
After concluding the Dandi March, as phase two of the ‘Salt Satyagraha’, Mahatma Gandhi had planned a non-violent raid of the Dharasena Salt Works in Gujarat, but he wasn’t able to make it there. The British arrested him even as others took the fight on.
In Mumbai, 500 people led by Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay marched to the Wadala Salt Depot on 16th April 1930. They collected natural salt and sold it to people.
This was followed by an even bigger march on 18th May 1930, when more than 20,000 people marched to Wadala and collected salt. There was exceptional police brutality on the marchers and as a result, the Bombay Stock Exchange and all other business establishments remained shut the next day in protest.
Salt Pans at Wadala/ Pic Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
The ‘Salt Satyagraha’ was a significant event in the political consciousness of Mumbai.
It brought its women, mostly ordinary housewives, to the forefront of the struggle for India’s Independence. As Kamaladevi wrote in her book Indian Women’s Battle for Freedom:
‘The salt satyagraha must stand out as not only unique but as an incredible form of revolution in human history. The very simplicity of this weapon was as appealing as intriguing. So far as women were concerned it was ideally tailor-made for them. As women naturally preside over culinary operations, salt is for them the most intimate and indispensable ingredient.’
Today, while Chowpatty is just a public getaway, the Wadala salt pans await an uncertain future. In the midst of all this, few remember the history that was made here.
Samosa and chai are the best travel buddies you will find when you make your way through India. And it seems that they served the same purpose through history too!
One of the earliest references to the samosa comes from an Arab cookbook from the 10th– 11th century CE. The sambusak, as it was called (and still is in the region) seemed to have been a snack popular among the traveling merchants who often sat around campfires nibbling on these small mince-filled triangles.
Food historian Colleen Taylor Sen in her book Feasts and Fasts: A History of Food in India, states that the word sambusak may have come from the Arabic se which means three, referring to the three sides and ambos which is a kind of a bread. According to the Oxford Companion to Food, the popularity of the sambusak was thanks to the convenience of carrying them.
They were easy to pack into saddlebags and took care of the next day’s journey!
The snack was not just popular, it was already versatile. A thirteenth-century Baghdadi cookbook, Kitab al-Tabikh (The Book of Dishes), offers recipes for three versions of the sambusak. One, filled with meat and flavoured with coriander, cumin, pepper, cinnamon, mint and pounded almonds; the second with halwa; and a third with sugar and almonds.
In fact the sambusak, sanbosag and the sanbusaq as it was varyingly called, finds frequent mention through history. It was probably through the merchants who traveled on the old silk route or the Arab traders who traded along the Indian coast, that the samosa came to India.
The first reference to the snack in India comes from the chronicles of the Moroccan traveler Ibn Battuta in the 14th century CE. He made a note of a meal in the court of Muhammad-bin-Tughluq, and referred to the sambusak– ‘A small pie stuffed with minced meat, almonds, pistachio, walnuts and spices’. According to food historian Colleen Taylor Sen, ‘The samosa is mentioned by the Persian historian Abul-Fazl Beyhaqi, one of the Navratnas of Akbar’s court, in the 16th Century as sanbusa or qutab (a Turkic word still used in Azerbaijan for samosa). Abul-Fazl described it as ‘A dainty delicacy, served as a snack in the great courts of the mighty Ghaznavid empire. The fine pastry was filled with minced meats, nuts and dried fruit and then fried till it was crisp.’
Today there are more kinds of samosa than you can count on your fingertips. The purely vegetarian, potato filled, popular variety is probably an Indian innovation. But given the fact that the potato itself came to India only in the 17th century CE (and was made popular, much later), means that the street variety of samosa is of a more recent origin.
DID YOU KNOW!
Over the last few decades, many new versions of the samosa have been cooked up, be it the local variants like the singara in West Bengal, patti samosa in Gujarat, paneer samosa in Punjab or even the chowmein samosas and pasta samosas you may have come across!
The concept of ‘water charity,’ has been a longstanding tradition in India. In the olden days, it was a common sight to see a foot traveler on the streets of South Mumbai, stop by a local water fountain, have a refreshing drink of water, rest a bit to soothe his tired muscles and move onward.
Indeed Hutatma Chowk (Martyr’s Square), has one of the finest examples of these heritage ornamental fountains – the Flora Fountain, built as early as 1864.
Flora Fountain at Night. Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
This sort of historic architectural genius also reflects in more than 30 pyaus (drinking water fountains) across the city – documented by the Municipal Corporation.
With profound iconography and free flowing designs, these early 20th century structures are fragments of history from a lost time.
The last few years have seen these fountains lose their identity owing to negligence, lack of maintenance and developmental advances.
A classic example of this is the demolition of the Bharat Mata Pyau on 12th December 2010, for to a road widening project.
Rahul Chemburkar, a city-based conservation architect, is dedicated to the cause of saving these historic pyaus. Jokingly referred to by his friends as the ‘Pyauist,’ his firm – Vaastu Vidhaan Projects– specializes in heritage conservation.
Rahul’s interest in Pyaus began in 2009, when he was commissioned by the Municipal Corporation to work on a pyau. A native of Chembur in Mumbai (therefore the surname is Chemburkar), the dysfunctional pyaus in the 70s piqued his curiosity as a child. He revisited these as part of his research.
“I came across a documentation by Dr Varsha Shirgaonkar which included most drinking and pleasure fountains in the city. These structures may not be as elaborate as Mumbai’s other heritage sites like VT or Gateway, but reflected and resonated the Indian culture of water charity, which was a confluence of two important factors: the memory in which they were built and its public utility as a water dispensing unit,” says Rahul.
You may have walked past these pyaus, but we bet you wouldn’t know the unique historical narrative behind them:
1. Kesowwji Naik Fountain and Clock Tower, Bhaat Bazar, Masjid Bunder
As the plaque on the 22-foot fountain reads – it was built by Kessowji Naik, a wealthy Gujarati merchant and his son, Nursey Kessowji at Bhat Bazar’s Mirchi Gally and presented to the city of Bombay.
It was opened for public use by the then Governor of Bombay, Sir Philip Edmund Woodehouse on 8th Jan 1876.
While this pyau has spouts and earthen pots to cater to thirsty of travelers, the spilled water falls into a trough for thirsty animals.
The dome has an exquisite chaitya pattern, while the architecture bears sculptures of Nandi bulls, a peacock, and an elephant. In 2015, through public-private funding, Rahul’s team successfully restored the fountain and clock towe
2. Sir Cowasji Jehangir Fountain, Kala Chowki
Sir Cowasji Jehangir Fountain, Kala Chowki, 1865
This five-and-a-half foot tall pyau near yesteryear’s Rangari Badak Chawl Tarffic signal at Kala chowki was built in 1865 by MacDonald of Abeerdeen, with a donation from Sir Cowasji Jehangir. Presently located at Babasaheb Ambedkar Road, it was originally built to serve people along the regular no. 6 and 7 tram routes.
A red granite structure without carvings, it has a semi-circular niche arch and a capital dome. The east side niche has projected a bowl and spout for drinking water. As per the residents of Rangari Chawl, there was a paved mori (open space for washing hands and feet) around the fountain back in the day.
3. Devidas Prabhudas Kothari Pyau and Kabutarkhana
Devidas Prabhudas Kothari Pyau and Kabutarkhana, 1923
A typical Jain Kabutar Khana and pyau, it was built in 1923 and displays Islamic architectural characteristics with four minarets. Located at the Ambalal Doshi Marg and Mint road, opposite the General Post Office, Shri Devidas Kothari built it in the memory for his daughter, Leelavati in May 1923.
It was renovated once in 1968 by Hakimchand Shantilal Joshi and later by the Gupta Family in the vicinity. It is maintained by a private trust now.
3. Anand Vitthal Koli Pyau, Prabhadevi
Anand Vitthal Koli Pyau, Prabhadevi, 1929
The Anand Vitthal Koli Pyau was built at Prabhadevi by Shri Anand Vitthal Koli in 1929 in the memory of his father Vitthal Koli and uncle Keshav.
Outside Zandu Pharmaceuticals at Dadar’s Gokhale Road, this pyau has a natural Kurla stone finish. Its placement is considered strategic as it stood close to the textile mills like Jupiter, Shriram Stanrose to provide drinking water to mill workers back in the 90s.
It also served the devotees of the nearby Siddhivinayak and Prabhadevi temples.
4. Mancooverbai Ranadas, Horniman Circle
Mancooverbai Ranadas Pyau, Horniman Circle, 1873
This joint pyau and animal trough, with an adjoining well, was built in 1873 at Horniman circle, a prime business location. The regular offloading of cotton in the area named it Cotton Green.
The increasing industrial activity with the dawn of the Bombay Stock Exchange demanded a pyau. Built in Kurla stone, the pyau was erected by Bai Mancovverbai Ranadas, the widow of Viz Bhukandas for public use in 1873.
“The city may go on, but when a pyau is lost, it will never be able to bring back its lost history. These water fountains that start from Flora Fountain increase in numbers when one travels north up till King Circle. Documenting and preserving them could help us create a pyau circuit in the city,” says Rahul.
The restoration of any pyau based on several factors like age, architecture, cost, water engineering, tenders, — takes between 6 to 9 months. The central challenge is the maintenance after restoration.
Jijamata Udyan Pyaus
While the flow of water in these pyaus was continuous in the past, the water supply now only lasts only a few hours. So, the restoration work today includes installing water tankers and value addition in grade II & III pyaus, through sculptures, giving them a distinct identity in the chaos of the city.
The revival of these pyaus could also reduce the consumption of bottled water by at least 5 per cent in the city, Rahul believes.
“Built in the late 19th and early 20th century with large budgets of Rs 5,000-20,000, these pyaus were designed by the natives of the city for the natives. We are the custodians who have to restore and maintain to the gifts of our ancestors,” he says.
Merely restoring structural edifices makes them tombstones. Life can be breathed into them with help from the general public, and CSR initiatives by private organizations, Rahul says.
The Mumbai Pyaav Project, initiated by like-minded individuals propagates the cause of the pyaus through heritage walks, cultural forums, lecture series and promotes the restoration work done by different architects around the city. It is striving to bring alive this history, by familiarising citizens with these water fountains in the nook and corners of the city and highlighting them as tourist attractions.
The hope to restore and revive these pyaus and return them to the city with their glory is a long way. But this is definitely the beginning!
Kulcha: Food fit for a king and his flag too!/ Pic: LHI Team
It’s amazing but the Nizams of Hyderabad actually had the kulcha as their official insignia. Here’s the intriguing story of how this popular Indian bread became the grand emblem on the Nizam’s flag! Like all great stories, this one is also spiced with legends and dark prophecies.
The Asaf Jahi dynasty (the official title of the Nizam’s of Hyderabad) was founded in the 18th century CE by Mir Qamar-ud-Din Khan Asaf Jah, a courtier at the Mughal court. Asaf Jah’s family had served the Mughal rulers for generations.
Mir Qamar-ud-Din: Founder of the Asaf Jahi dynasty in Hyderabad/ PIc: Wikimedia Commons
In 1712, when Mir Qamar-ud-Din was appointed the Governor of Deccan, he was given the title of Nizam-Ul-Mulk. He was only too happy to leave Delhi which had become a cesspool of political intrigue after Aurangzeb’s death. But before he took up the job of Subedar-i-Dakhan (Governor of Deccan), Mir Qamar-ud-Din went to meet his spiritual guide, the Sufi mystic Hazrat Nizamuddin Aurangabadi (whose dargah still exists in Shahganj, Aurangabad).
The story goes that the pir Hazrat Nizamuddin invited him for a meal and offered him kulchas tied in a yellow cloth. The hungry Mir Qamar-ud-Din ate seven kulchas and after his meal, Hazrat Nizamuddin blessed him and prophesied that one day he would be king and that his descendants would rule for seven generations!
Flag of the erstwhile Hyderabad State/ Pic: Wikimedia Commons
The prophecy soon came true. When the Mughal Empire collapsed, Mir Qamar-ud-Din was able to declare independence from Delhi and lay the foundation of the Asaf Jahi dynasty in Hyderabad. As a gesture of gratitude to the Sufi Saint who had blessed him, Mir Qamar-ud-Din the first Nizam of Hyderabad, proudly adopted the symbol of the kulcha as part of his royal insignia and the colour yellow to denote the cloth the pir’skulchas were packed in – as the colour of his official flag.
Interestingly, the Asaf Jahi dynasty only lasted seven generations. The seventh Nizam, Nawab Sir Osman Ali Khan joined the Indian union. The eighth descendant, Mukarram Jah managed to lose everything he had inherited!
The tweet also had hash tag #KhaasHaiItihaas which means that ‘History is special’.
The FIR is written in Urdu, as it was the official language of the area in the 19th century, and recorded the theft of utensils and other items from a home.
The stolen items mentioned in the FIR are three large cooking utensils, three small vessels, a bowl, a Hukka (smoking pipe), women’s clothing and a kulfi (ice cream).
The FIR was filed 156 years ago under the Police Act at the Subzi Mandi police station in North Delhi by Maeeuddin, a resident of Katra Sheesh Mahal.
The total worth of items stolen from his house was 45 annas (about Rs 2.81 then).
This valuable piece of history soon went viral and twitter-users were thrilled to know about it.
Wow, amazing throwback to time gone. Cant read text,, looks like persian lang whch was court lang under mughals.
A copy of the FIR has been put inside the Subzi Mandi Police Station, and the document has been framed and put on display at the Delhi Police Museum since 2014.
We hope Delhi Police tells us more about this case and how it was closed in their next tweet!
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During the East India Company’s rule in India, women’s rights and education seemed a far cry. Women hid behind their veils, and social evils like child marriage and sati marred society.
Most women were not allowed to get an education or be working professionals. Marriage, childbearing and rearing were deemed the only aspirations they could have.
But this is NOT a story about oppression. Instead, it is a coming-of-age story of the earliest female emancipations in pre-partition India. Of how one woman smashed the glass ceiling, shattered all stereotypes and became a trailblazer for generations to come.
This is the story of Kadambini Ganguly, one of the first women graduates from India and the entire British Empire, who moved on to become one of the first female physicians trained in western medicine in the whole of South Asia.
With a series of firsts to her credit, Kadambini Ganguly was also one of the earliest working women in British India.
Who was Kadambini?
Born Kadambini Bose in Bhagalpur, she was raised in Changi, Barisal (now in Bangladesh).
Her childhood was strongly influenced by the Bengal Renaissance and her father, Braja Kishore Basu, was a renowned champion of the Brahmo Samaj. As a headmaster, he was dedicated to female emancipation and co-founded Bhagalpur Mahila Samiti in 1863, the first of its kind women’s organisation in India.
A young Kadambini completed her formal education from Banga Mahila Vidyalaya, later merged with the Bethune School. She was the first candidate from the Bethune School to appear for the University of Calcutta entrance exam and created history becoming the first woman to pass the test as early as 1878.
Her success encouraged Bethune College to introduce FA (First Arts) and Graduation courses in 1883. Kadambini was one of the first two graduates, along with Chandramukhi Basu, in the entire British Raj.
Apart from education, she challenged everything the society deemed acceptable at every step. She married her teacher, Dwarakanath Ganguly, a prominent Brahmo Samaj leader from the Banga Mahila Vidyalaya, who was 20 years older to her.
Not one Bramho member accepted their wedding invitation.
When most thought she would put an end to her education after graduating, Dwarkanath encouraged her to study medicine. Her decision to do so as a woman received severe backlash in the Bhadralok (upper caste Bengali) community.
So much so that the editor of the popular periodical Bangabasi, Maheschandra Pal, referred to her as a courtesan in his piece.
Angered by the editor’s shenanigans, Dwarakanath confronted him, and in a not very subtle manner, made him swallow the piece of paper where that comment was printed. He was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment and paid a fine of one hundred rupees.
Becoming one of India’s first woman doctors.
But the road to becoming a doctor was a difficult one. Calcutta Medical College refused to admit Kadambini as a candidate despite her merit because there was no history of Indian women studying there.
Dwarakanath, for the longest time, had also been campaigning to ensure accommodation and enrollment of female students in Calcutta Medical College. It was only after the couple legally threatened the authorities, did they allow Kadambini to study.
1886 marked her record as one the first Indian women physician eligible to practice western medicine alongside Anandi Gopal Joshi. She received her GBMC (Graduate of Bengal Medical College) degree, allowing her to practice.
She even left for the United Kingdom in 1892 to get more experience in her field and received various certificates from Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Dublin. After returning to India, she worked for a short period in Lady Dufferin Hospital and started her private practice later.
Her thoughts were radical. She was at the forefront of several social movements. She was instrumental in the fight that sought to improve conditions of female coal miners in the Eastern India. She was also a part of the Indian National Congress’ first ever female delegation (women who were selected to vote) in its 5th session.
When the Partition of Bengal divided the country in 1906, Kadambini organized the Women’s Conference in Calcutta for solidarity and served as its president in 1908. In the same year, she openly supported the Satyagraha and mobilised people to raise funds to support the workers.
She served as the President of Transvaal Indian Association formed after the imprisonment of Mahatma Gandhi in South Africa and worked tirelessly for Indians there.
Kadambini openly spoke against the Calcutta Medical College’s practice of not admitting female candidates at the Medical Conference of 1915.
It was her provoking lecture that led the university authorities to amend their policies and open their doors to all female students.
Her husband’s death in 1898, made her mostly withdraw from public life and affected her health too. A year before her death, she visited Bihar and Orissa to help women mining labourers.
Until the day she died, she did not turn down any of medical calls. She died on 7th October 1923, fifteen minutes after returning from one of her regular medical calls. Unfortunately, she left the world, before any medical aid could reach her.
As a champion of women’s education and rights, Kadambini Ganguly may have long gone, but she will never be forgotten!
“True teachers are those who help us think for ourselves.” – Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan
September 5 is a special day in the history of India. Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, a legendary teacher and India’s second President, is remembered on this day. Widely recognised and respected as one of the 20th century’s most respected Indian thinkers, he wasn’t just a teacher.
He was also an accomplished scholar, a distinguished philosopher, a consummate statesman and an effective diplomat.
Born on 5 September 1888 in Tiruttani (a small temple town in Tamil Nadu), Radhakrishnan grew up to become an exemplary teacher who always strove to bring the best out of his students. Such was his clarity and comprehensiveness as a teacher that students of other colleges used to attend his philosophy classes during his years at the Madras Presidency College, the Mysore University and the Calcutta University.
Later, when Radhakrishnan became the second President of India, some of his fans and students met him to request his permission to commemorate his birthday with a celebration. He replied by saying,”instead of celebrating my birthday separately, it would be my proud privilege if September 5 is celebrated as Teachers’ Day.”
Decades later, his legacy continues to play a pivotal role in inspiring teachers across India to contribute to nation-building.
On the occasion of Teacher’s Day, we bring you eight facts that you may not have known about Dr Radhakrishnan.
1. Credited for taking Indian philosophy to the western world, Dr Radhakrishnan’s reason for choosing philosophy for his MA were the free textbooks he got from a cousin!
After completing his school education, Radhakrishnan’s father wanted him to become a priest at a temple rather than study further. However, he worked hard to win a scholarship from the Madras Christian College that enabled him to pursue his BA and graduate with first class honours in 1906.
While he was initially interested in the physical sciences for his masters, he chose Philosophy as he got free textbooks from a cousin who had just graduated in the subject! However, he quickly grew to love the subject and even wrote several books on the subject.
2. When he got a one-of-a-kind farewell from his students in Mysore.
The year was 1921 and Radhakrishnan was attending a farewell ceremony organised for him by the students of Maharaja College, Mysore. When he came out after the ceremony, his students requested him to board a decorated horse cart. Interestingly, the horses were absent from their positions.
Though curious about the cart, Radhakrishnan complied with the students’ wishes. After he sat inside, his students took the places of the horses and pulled the wagon all the way to the Mysore railway station to drop their beloved teacher!
3. The first book he wrote was about the philosophy of Rabindranath Tagore, which he believed to be the true manifestation of Indian spirit.
A rare photograph of the three legends, Sir Maurice Gwyer, Rabindranath Tagore, and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, coming out from Sinha Sadan
In 1920, Radhakrishnan was invited by the Vice-Chancellor of the Calcutta University to take up the post of Professor of Mental and Moral Science. He accepted and it was during his tenure in Calcutta that he interacted closely with Tagore. Deeply impressed by the Nobel Laureate’s philosophy, he chose to base his first book on it.
Later, he was invited to deliver the Upton lectures at the Manchester College and the Haskell lectures at Chicago. He also served as the Spalding Professor of Eastern Religions in the Oxford University for three years.
During his time abroad, he would frequently use the platform to talk about India’s quest for freedom from colonial rule. After his return to India, he went on to publish some of his finest works that include The Religion We Need, The Heart of Hindustan and The Future Civilisation.
4. A very effective diplomat, he laid the foundation of India’s relationship with the Soviet Union (now Russia).
Radhakrishnan was sent as India’s second ambassador to Moscow (1949-53) at the height of the Cold War. In an eventful three years, Radhakrishnan managed to positively amplify India’s relationship with the Soviet Union.
In the 1940s and 50s, philosophers were widely admired in Russia. Impressed and intrigued by Radhakrishnan’s credentials, Stalin finally agreed to meet him in January 1950. It should be noted Stalin had not received Radhakrishnan’s predecessor even once!
During the meeting, the ambassador patiently answered Stalin’s many questions (like why Ceylon was not a part of India and if India still employed British officers in its army and navy) before suggesting that USSR take the initiative to end the Cold War. Stalin answered by saying that it takes two hands to clap and that there was another side responsible for the Cold War too.
Radhakrishnan replied with a sentence that left Stalin at a loss for words. “As a peace-loving country, the Soviet Union should withdraw its own hand as it takes two hands to clap.”
His tenure as an ambassador was also responsible for garnering Soviet support on Kashmir. This can be seen in the UN Security Council meeting in 1951, where USSR blasted USA and UK for meddling in Kashmir’s internal affairs.
5. When he greeted Chairman Mao Zedong with a pat on the cheek!
In September 1957, Radhakrishnan was on a visit to China as India’s Vice President that included a meeting with Chairman Mao Zedong (communist revolutionary, poet, political theorist and founding father of the People’s Republic of China).
On his arrival at Mao’s residence, Radhakrishnan was received at the door by Mao himself. After shaking hands with the Mao, he patted the surprised leader on his cheek. Mao had never been subjected to such familiarity but Radhakrishnan was quick to put him at ease by saying, “Mr Chairman, don’t be alarmed, I did the same to Stalin and the Pope!”
6. Though his persona resembled that of a stern headmaster, he had a great sense of humour too.
President John F. Kennedy with President of India, Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan
Photo Source
In the annals of Rashtrapati Bhawan, there are many anecdotes about the Philosopher President and his subtle sense of humour. One of the most famous among them goes as follows:
When the king of Greece came on a state visit to India in 1962, Radhakrishnan (newly appointed as the President of India back then) welcomed him saying: “Your Majesty, you are the first king of Greece to come as our guest. Alexander came uninvited! ”
7. When his appointment as President of India was welcomed by Bertrand Russell
Ex – President Dr Radhakrishnan greets Padmashri Mohammed Rafi
When Radhakrishnan was appointed the President of India in 1962, Bertrand Russell (one of the world’s greatest philosophers) welcomed the news by saying, “It is an honour to philosophy that Dr. Radhakrishnan should be President of India and I, as a philosopher, take special pleasure in this. Plato aspired for philosophers to become kings and it is a tribute to India that she should make a philosopher her President.
His tenure as President (1962-67) saw some of the biggest challenges to India’s integrity – the deaths of two prime ministers as well as two of Independent India’s wars (with China and Pakistan). His sage counsel helped see India through those trying years. Also, every month, the simple and stoic leader would accept only Rs. 2,500 out of his presidential salary of Rs. 10,000 and donate the rest of the amount to the Prime Minister’s National Relief Fund.
8. His name was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature for five consecutive years!
Photo Source
Between 1933 and 1937, Radhakrishnan was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature for five consecutive years. While he never won the Nobel Prize, he did win several prestigious awards and titles including Bharat Ratna in 1954, a knighthood from George V in 1931 and an honorary membership of the British Royal Order of Merit in 1963.
He was also honoured with the Templeton Prize in 1975, for promoting the notion of “a universal reality of God that embraced love and wisdom for all people”. Interestingly, the legend donated all the award money to Oxford University!
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Tucked away in Panchkula district of Haryana is a Mughal garden that was central to a cunning plot hatched by a local king to keep the Mughal lords out of his lair! The spectacular Pinjore gardens may take your breath away but the story behind their construction is just as interesting!
When finally completed, the Pinjore gardens rivaled the other famous Mughal gardens, strewn across the old royal cities. However, the man who made them didn’t get a chance to enjoy them for too long. The Pinjore Garden was abandoned just seven years after it was built, for a very unusual reason. According to folklore, the local king, the Raja of Bhawana, dreaded the coming of the Mughal Court to Panchkula and feared that he would lose more land to the Mughals.
Hence he drew up a cunning and ingenious plan to drive the Governor away.
In those days, all along the foothills of the Himalayas, cases of goitre were often reported because of very low levels of iodine in the salt consumed by people. The Raja used this fact to his advantage. He collected all the people suffering from goitre and made them appear to be local inhabitants of the place when the Governor and his family visited. In fact, people suffering from goitre were even placed as palace staff, gardeners and women carrying fruits and flowers to the zenana (women’s quarters), to rub a point in and it worked!
The women of the harem, already horrified of the disease, were made to believe that the air and water of Pinjore were contaminated and this is why the disease was so common. This eventually created such a widespread panic among the petrified women of the zenana that they refused to stay in Pinjore!
Fadai Khan was forced to move out of Pinjore and rarely came back to visit the lovely gardens that he had so painstakingly planned.
The summer palaces in Pinjore Gardens/ Image Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
Later in the eighteenth century, as the Mughal power declined, Pinjore and the area around it was caught in the cross-fire between the plundering Gurkhas, who marched in and the local rulers who desperately tried to ward them off. Finally, the local raja(s) had to turn to the Sikhs of Patiala for help.
The Gurkhas were defeated in 1769 and the gardens of Pinjore and the adjoining lands were given to the state of Patiala as payment.
Pinjore and its palaces served as a holiday home (quite literally) for the Maharajas of Patiala, especially Maharaja Bhupinder Singh, who used to host lavish parties there. Later, after India gained independence, his son, Maharaja Yadavindra Singh (current Punjab CM Amarinder Singh’s father) donated Pinjore gardens to the nation.
Today, they are known as Yadavindra gardens and are open to the public. But most people who head there, miss the stories that make these gardens so special!
On December 16, 1971, the Indian Armed Forces won a gritty and decisive war against Pakistan. Many courageous soldiers laid down their lives while answering the call of duty to defend their nation.
It’s been nearly forty-six years since then, but the unparalleled bravery and sacrifice of these brave hearts are still etched in the collective memory of the country. However, few people know the about Indian Air Force’s first and only Param Vir Chakra awardee, Nirmal Jit Singh Shekon.
Here is the riveting story of the man who went on to become Indian Air Force’s greatest war hero.
Hailing from the village of Isewal Dakha in Ludhiana district of Punjab, Nirmal Jit Singh Sekhon was born on July 17, 1943. His father, Tarlochan Singh Sekhon, was a flight lieutenant in the Indian Air Force.
Deeply inspired by his father, Sekhon had already decided that he would join the Indian Air Force (IAF) when he was still a child. After completing his schooling, he fulfilled his dream by joining IAF. On June 4, 1967, he was formally commissioned into the force as a Flying Officer.
The year was 1971 and the Indo-Pak border had become a battlefield. The Pakistan Air Force (PAF) were carrying out strikes ceaselessly to neutralise the crucial airfields of Amritsar, Pathankot and Srinagar. A detachment of IAF’s 18 Squadron had been charged with the air defence of Srinagar.
Sekhon was a part of this famed squadron, also called Flying Bullets due to their incredible manoeuvring ability in the air. On the morning of December 14, 1971, he was on Stand-By 2 duty (they had to be airborne in two minutes when given the ‘scrambling’ orders) at the foggy Srinagar airfield with Flight Lieutenant Baldhir Singh Ghuman.
Known to his friends and colleagues as ‘G-Man’, Ghumman was Sekhon’s senior, flying instructor and the man who helped the young pilot fall in love with the Gnat (the tiny fighter aircraft that had earned the nickname of ‘Sabre Slayer’ for its exemplary performance in the Indo-Pak war of 1965).
Interestingly, the always affable Sekhon’s nickname was ‘Brother’ because that is what he called everyone around him!
Flying Officer Nirmal Jit Singh Sekhon and his Gnat
Earlier that morning, six F-86 Sabre jets (PAF’s flagship fighters) had taken off from Peshawar with the target of bombing the Srinagar airbase. The team was led by 1965 war veteran, Wing Commander Changazi, with Flight Lieutenants Dotani, Andrabi, Mir, Baig and Yusufzai as wing men. Using the cover of winter fog, the Sabres crossed the border unnoticed.
Back then the Kashmir valley had no radar and the IAF was dependent on observation posts pitched atop ridges and peaks to provide warnings of incoming raids. The PAF Sabres were finally spotted by an IAF Observation Post a few kilometers away from Srinagar and a warning was immediately conveyed to the airbase.
Immediately, ‘G-Man’ Ghumman and ‘Brother’ Sekhon scrambled towards their Gnats and rolled them out of the hangar while trying to contact the Air Traffic Control (ATC) and get permission to take off. However, a mismatch of radio frequencies resulted in their being unable to connect with the ATC despite all their efforts. Unwilling to dally any longer, the two took to the skies just as a pair of bombs exploded on the runway.
As Sekhon lifted off, he saw the two Sabres fly past him, and seconds later, he turned around at a dizzying speed to chase them as they veered off for another raid on the runway. What followed was one of the greatest dogfights in the history of air warfare.
Recognizing the menacing presence of a Gnat in hot pursuit, Changazi ordered his team to jettison drop tanks and dive. Dotani was given the task of throwing off the chasing aircraft, just as Sekhon let loose with blistering bursts of bullets at the Sabres. At that time, the only weapons both Gnats and Sabres had for air combat were front guns (unlike modern fighters that are armed with air-to-air missiles).
Dotani barely escaped being hit. However, while he was busy firing at the Sabre in front of him, two other Sabres had come up on his tail. Now, it was one IAF Gnat taking on four PAF Sabres. Meanwhile, Ghumman, who had gone into a turn after taking off, had lost sight of Sekhon’s Gnat due to poor visibility.
Such was Sekhon’s confidence in his machine and courage in face of danger that he decided to take on the four Sabres himself. The feisty fighter expertly manoeuvred his Gnat in circles to evade the Sabres while relentlessly firing at them. His fierce gunfire single-handedly downed two of the PAF Sabres but the odds were against him.
One of the Sabres chasing him (piloted by Flt Lt Mirza) finally managed to hit Sekhon’s Gnat with a volley from its six machine guns. In the air, Ghuman heard Sekhon’s last transmission –
“I think I’m hit. G-Man, come and get them!”
With black smoke belching from its rear fuselage, the wounded Gnat headed towards the base. But the 37 bullets that peppered the aircraft had ensured the failure of its flight control system. As the Gnat flipped and went into an uncontrollable nosedive, Sekhon tried to eject from the aircraft but the ejection system had also been knocked out.
Soon after, Flying Officer Nirmal Jit Singh Shekon was martyred when his Gnat crashed into a gorge near Badgam. He was only 26 when he died.
Statue of Param Vir Flying Officer Nirmal Jit Singh Sekhon and his aircraft at district court of Ludhiana.
For his selflessness, dogged determination and raw courage in the face of the enemy, Nirmal Jit Singh Shekon was posthumously awarded the Param Vir Chakra (collected with immense pride and grief by his young wife and father, who was still a serving Warrant Office in the IAF). He was the first and only air warrior to be awarded India’s highest wartime gallantry award.
Soldiers like ‘Brother’ Shekon are not born every day. The sacrifice of this heroic warrior deserves to be remembered with gratitude by the country he died protecting.
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Gujarat’s Kheda district has a special place in Indian history for many reasons. It was the home of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, the place where Mahatma Gandhi started his second Satyagraha on Indian soil and the launchpad of the historic white revolution that led to brand Amul.
What few people know is that Kheda was the location for a project that was instrumental in decentralizing television broadcasting in India. Here’s the little-known story of Kheda Communications Project.
The UHF chicken mesh antenna used for direct reception of TV programme from the satellite
Television was introduced in India for the first time on September 15, 1959, in Delhi, a little over two decades after the first television service of the world was started by British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) in 1936. With help from UNESCO, programmes about topics such as citizens’ rights, civic duty, traffic sense and community health were broadcast twice a week for an hour a day.
Two years later, these broadcasts were expanded to include educational programmes for school children. In 1972, India’s second television station was opened in Bombay, followed by stations in Amritsar and Srinagar (in 1973) and Madras, Calcutta and Lucknow (in 1975). Nevertheless, television still remained a distant dream for the greater part of rural India.
However, during this time, one of India’s greatest visionaries had already started taking steps to change this situation.
Left: Ahmadabad Earth Station beaming TV programmes during KCP Right: Vikram Sarabhai
A man passionate about harnessing science to build a modern India, Vikram Sarabhai had been appointed the Chairman of Atomic Energy Commission in May 1966 (after the sudden death of Homi Bhabha in an air crash). He wanted to harness the power of space science to find solutions to the hurdles India was facing in the fields of communication, meteorology, and education.
In the same year he joined as Chairman of AEC, Sarabhai started a dialogue with NASA that formed the base for Satellite Instructional Television Experiment (SITE). Launched in 1975, SITE marked the first major India-US partnership in space. It was also this nation’s first attempt to use technology for education.
NASA’s ATS-6 satellite which broadcasted TV programme during SITE
The core idea behind this experimental project was to use NASA,s first direct broadcasting satellite ( with a powerful, nine-metre antenna that opened in space like an umbrella) to beam television programmes to remote Indian villages. While the satellite would be foreign, the hardware (like the direct-reception equipment, the TV sets and the earth stations for uplinking programmes to the satellite) would be designed and made in India.
It was with this concept in mind that the Kheda Communications Project was set up under SITE as a pilot project that would be replicated in rural India. The village selected for India’s first local rural television telecast was the obscure hamlet of Pij in Kheda district of Gujarat.
A low-powered transmitter gifted by United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and a local production studio was set up at Pij while a satellite earth station was set up at Ahmedabad’s Space Applications Center (SAC). Next, 651 televisions sets were distributed among the residents of 400 villages in a 35 km radius.
The much-awaited moment finally arrived on a sultry evening in July 1975. Over 100 excited villagers huddled together at a ground in Pij, their eyes glued to the wooden box with a blank glass screen in front of them.
There was a crackle of static, and then the screen blinked to life with an audio-visual of people discussing issues in the local language. Nothing less than magic for the awestruck villagers, the moment would remain etched in their memories forever.
Villagers curiously watching TV programme during SITE
The Kheda Communications Project did not end with this historical transmission. It continued to experiment with the process, style and content of the audiovisual communication to create a model that would be effective in taking development programmes to rural India.
The ISRO campus in Ahmedabad hosted a motivated band of people, young and old, which included scientists, engineers, folk culture experts and film makers. Such an eclectic environment had never been seen before in space organisations anywhere in the world!
Producers (both independent as well as those under SAC patronage) drove into the villages of Kheda to shoot programmes that would use local artists, realistically portray local issues of social importance and suggest local solutions. This connect with the audience was what made this project so unique as well as highly effective.
For example, weekly features such as Daad Fariyad chose a specific problem and discussed it in detail with both affected villagers as well as government officials before providing an implementable solution. Another sensitive serial, Hawe Na Saheva Paap created awareness about the exploitation of Harijans by upper caste farmers.
Kheda Communications Project also gave much importance to understanding and measuring the impact of the television programmes that were broadcast. As the villagers became familiar with television, the initial amazement gave away to easy acceptance. Studies conducted by SAC’s research cells showed that villages covered by the project had a greater level of awareness as compared to those who weren’t.
For instance, after a broadcast on immunisation, it was found that 96% of the villagers who watched it knew of the benefits of immunisation as opposed to 24% otherwise.
Kheda Communications Project was intended as a year-long experiment but such was its success that even after project term ended in 1976, it was extended indefinitely.
Replicating the concept, TV sets for community viewing were set up in some of the most backward and remote villages of six states (Bihar, Orissa, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka), with programmes covering crucial subjects such as health, agriculture and education.
In 1984, Kheda Communications Project won the UNESCO Prize for rural communication efficiency. However, in 1985 (when Doordarshan set up its full-fledged facility at Ahmedabad) it was decided that the Pij transmitter would be moved to Chennai for a second channel. This decision was greeted by vociferous protests by the locals who were deeply attached to the historic transmitter and even started a ‘Pij TV Kendra Bachao’ movement.
Despite these protests, the 1-kilowatt transmitter tower was finally shifted to Chennai in 1990. Today, the land on which it was set up is used for growing vegetables while the transmitter itself has become a fond memory for the elderly villagers of Pij.
However, the lasting impact of Kheda Communications Project (and SITE as a whole) can never be forgotten. Not only did project touch and positively change the lives of millions of rural Indians, but it also set a strong message about independent India’s advancing technological prowess. As Arthur Clarke, renowned science fiction author, said on the 40th anniversary of SITE in 2015, ” It was the greatest communication experiment in history.”
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In Dakshina Kannada’s Bantwal taluk, a historian has erected a museum in the memory of a 16th-century warrior queen. The man behind the museum, called Tulu Baduku Museum, is Prof. Thukaram Poojary and his subject is Rani Abbakka Chowta of Ullal.
The only woman in history to confront, fight and repeatedly defeat the Portuguese, Rani Abbakka’s unflagging courage and indomitable spirit are at par with the legendary Rani Laxmi Bai of Jhansi, Rani Rudramma Devi of Warangal and Rani Chennamma of Kittur. Yet, little is written about her or her incredible story in the history books.
Here’s the untold story of Rani Abbakka Chowta, the valiant queen of Ullal.
Since the 7th century, maritime trade (in spices, textiles, war horses etc) had flourished between the communities of India’s western coast and the Arabian Peninsula. With an eye on this lucrative trade, several European powers had been trying to discover the sea route to India. The Portuguese finally became the first Europeans to find a sea route to India when Vasco Da Gama reached Calicut in 1498 after a long voyage.
Five years later, the Portuguese built their first fort at Cochin. This was followed by the establishment of a ring of forts in the Indian Ocean region – in India, Muscat, Mozambique, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, even as far as Macau in China. This, along with its superior naval technology, put the control of all the spice routes to India into the hands of the Portuguese within twenty years of Da Gama’s historic voyage.
This, along with its superior naval technology, put the control of all the spice routes to India into the hands of the Portuguese within twenty years of Da Gama’s historic voyage.
For the whole of the 16th century, Portuguese dominance in the region remains unchallenged by any other European power (the Dutch, the French and the British reached India only at the start of the 17th century).
Trading in the Indian Ocean, which had hitherto been a free trade zone for Indian, Arab, Persian and African ships, now required a paid permit (cartaz) from the Portuguese. The naval superiority of the Portuguese meant that they invariably won against local rulers who rebelled.
In 1526, the Portuguese captured the Mangalore port. Their next target was Ullal, a thriving port town that lay nestled between the verdant peaks of the Western Ghats and the cerulean blue waters of the Arabian Sea.
Life Size Statue of the Chowta Queen Abbakka in Ullal
Ullal was the capital of the Chowta king Thirumala Raya III. Feudatories of the Vijayanagar kingdom, the Chowtas were Jain kings who had originally migrated to Tulu Nadu (a province consisting of present-day Dakshina Kannada district of Karnataka, portions of Udupi and Kasargod district in Kerala) from Gujarat in the 12th century.
As the Chowtas were a matrilineal dynasty, the king’s heir was his young niece, Abbakka. The fiercely independent princess had been trained in sword fighting, archery, cavalry, military strategy, diplomacy and all other subjects of statecraft from a very young age. As such, when Abbakka was crowned the Queen of Ullal, she was deeply aware of the threat posed by the Portuguese presence on the coast and equally determined to resist it with all she had.
As such, when Abbakka was crowned the Queen of Ullal, she was deeply aware of the threat posed by the Portuguese presence on the coast and equally determined to resist it with all she had.
Before his death, Thirumala Raya III had arranged a strategic marriage alliance for Abbakka with Lakshmappa Bangaraja, the ruler of Mangalore. As the ruler of Ullal, Rani Abbakka continued to live in her own home even after marriage and the couple’s three children stayed with her. However, the marriage broke down when Bangaraja compromised with the Portuguese.
With an eye on Ullal’s trade (that had flourished under the Queen’s able leadership), the Portuguese had been trying to exact tributes and taxes from Rani Abbakka. Incensed and exasperated at the unfair demands, she refused to accede to the Portuguese demands. Her ships continued to trade with the Arabs despite attacks by the Portuguese. From Mogaveeras and Billava archers to Mappilah oars men, people of all castes and religions found a place in her army and navy.
Her ships continued to trade with the Arabs despite attacks by the Portuguese. From Mogaveeras and Billava archers to Mappilah oars men, people of all castes and religions found a place in her army and navy.
Infuriated by her effrontery, the Portuguese began attacking Ullal repeatedly.The first battle took place in the year 1556, with the Portuguese fleet being commanded by Admiral Don Alvaro de Silveira, and ended in an uneasy truce.
Two years later, the Portuguese attacked with a larger force and were able to ransack the settlement at Ullal to some extent. However, Rani Abbakka’s masterful battle tactics and diplomatic strategy (she collaborated with Arab Moors and Zamorin of Kozhikode) pushed them back once again.
During the next battle, the Portuguese army under General Joao Peixoto attacked Ullal and managed to capture the royal palace. However, Rani Abbakka escaped before they could capture her.
Along with 200 loyal soldiers, she raided the Portuguese in the dead of night and killed the general along with 70 of his soldiers. Frightened by the ferocity of the attack, the remaining Portuguese troops fled to their ships
By this time, the Portuguese had become alarmed about Rani Abbakka’s growing reputation inspiring other rulers. When repeated frontal attacks didn’t work, they resorted to treachery. A series of edicts were passed to make any alliance with the defiant queen illegal. Her husband, Bangaraja of Mangalore, was also warned against sending any aid to Ullal under the threat of burning his capital.
Yet, Rani Abbakka continued to dismiss these rulings with contempt and scorn. The stunned Portuguese now decided to send Anthony D’ Noronha (the Portuguese Viceroy of Goa) to attack Ullal. In 1851, 3000 Portuguese troops supported by an armada of battleships attacked Ullal in a surprise pre-dawn attack.
Rani Abbakka was returning from a visit to her family temple and was caught off guard but she immediately mounted her horse and rode into the battle, leading her troops in a fierce counter-offensive.
Her piercing battle cry – “Save the motherland. Fight them on land and the sea. Fight them on the streets and the beaches. Push them back to the waters.” echoed through winds as she and her soldiers fired flaming arrows at the Portuguese ships.
Fight them on the streets and the beaches. Push them back to the waters.” echoed through winds as she and her soldiers fired flaming arrows at the Portuguese ships.
While many of the ships in the Portuguese armada burnt that night, Rani Abbakka was wounded in the crossfire and was captured by the enemy with the help of a few bribed chieftains. Rebellious till the very end, the fearless queen breathed her last in captivity. However, her legacy lived on through her equally fierce and brave daughters who continued to defend Tulu Nadu from the Portuguese.
A warrior queen who gave her life in defence of her freedom and motherland, Rani Abbakka remained a major thorn in the Portuguese’ side throughout her rule despite their superior military power. This itself speaks volumes about her courage and ingenuity. Yet her splendid story remains largely forgotten by history books.
The good news is that the legendary queen of Ullal continues to live on in the folk culture of the Dakshin Kannada region (through Bhuta Kola and Yakshagana). In the recent years, her story has been gradually coming to public attention.
Dakshin Kannada has been holding an annual celebration in her memory (Veera Rani Abbakka Utsava) for the last few years.
In 2003, Indian Post issued a special stamp dedicated to Rani Abbakka while in 2015, the Indian Navy acknowledged her naval heroics by naming a patrol vessel after her.
And there is also Tulu Baduku museum in Bantwal that displays around 3000 artefacts collected from dusty family attics by Poojary over a period of 20 years. Asked what motivated him to do so, Prof. Poojary explained to DNA,
“As a person who has made a career out of teaching history, I cannot allow an important freedom fighter to be forgotten just like that. Let the generations of future historians derive inspiration from it and dwell deep into Rani Abbakka’s life.”
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World War I had about 1.5 million Indians fighting in every theatre of the battle. Among the handful of Indians who fought in the air was a gifted combat pilot who would go on to become India’s first fighter ace, Indra Lal ‘Laddie’ Roy. Yet few Indians know about the story of this incredible air warrior from Bengal.
The second son of Piera Lal Roy and Lolita Roy, Indra Lal Roy was born in Calcutta (now Kolkata) on December 2, 1898. The Roy family had a history of illustrious individuals. His father was a highly-respected barrister who served as the Director of Public Prosecution. His maternal grandfather, Dr. Surya Kumar Chakraborty, was one of the first Indian doctors to be trained in western medicine while his elder brother, Paresh Lal Roy (who served in the Army’s artillery battalion) would later go on to be known as the father of Indian boxing.
In 1901, Roy’s family moved to London. He was still in school when World War I erupted on July 28, 1914. Determined to do his bit, he signed up for the cadet force at his school, the 400-year-old St Paul’s School for Boys at Hammersmith. The bright teenager also designed a trench mortar and sent the design to the War office along with notes on its advantages.
Impressed by his academic record and innovative designs, Roy was awarded a scholarship by Oxford University. However, the young boy (affectionately nicknamed Laddie by his friends and family) had another dream in his eyes: becoming a fighter aircraft pilot. As soon as he could, he applied to the Royal Flying Corps (the Royal Air Force (RAF) was yet to be formed) but was rejected on grounds of ‘defective’ eyesight.
The Royal Flying Corps (RFC) was the air arm of the British Army.
But Roy was not someone who would give up so easily. He sold his motorbike to pay for a second opinion from one of Britain’s leading eye specialists. This time, he cleared the eye test and successfully appealed to the Royal Flying Corps to overturn his rejection. On July 5, 1917, the feisty eighteen-year-old was formally commissioned into the RFC and posted to No. 56 Squadron (that flew the iconic S.E.5‘scout’ fighters).
Popular among his fellow pilots for his youthful exuberance, Roy was soon flying his plane in the skies above Vendome in France, often doing daring maneuvers far beyond his age and experience. It was during this time, on December 6,1917, that he suffered a crash after his plane was shot down by a German fighter.
Badly injured, an unconscious Roy was moved to the local hospital where he was taken for dead and laid out in the morgue. On regaining consciousness, he banged loudly on the morgue’s door while shouting out in his school-boy French!
After the door was finally opened by the terrified hospital staff, the boy ‘who had come back from the dead’ was promptly sent back to England for further treatment. While recovering from the crash, he spent his time making numerous sketches of aircrafts (many of which are now displayed at the IAF museum in Delhi).
After his accident, Roy had been declared unfit to fly. But the stubborn lad was determined to return to the skies and pestered his seniors till they finally gave in. In June 1918, he returned to duty and was posted to No 40 Squadron of the RAF (that had been formed two months earlier by merging the RFC and the Royal Naval Air Service).
More focussed than ever before, Roy was determined to train harder and become one of the best fighter pilots in the RAF. Within a month, he brought down his first German plane during a skirmish in Northern France. This was just the beginning of his exemplary career as a combat pilot.
Over the next two weeks, Roy achieved ten victories, becoming India’s first flying ace in just over 170 hours of flying time (a flying ace is a fighter pilot credited with shooting down five or more enemy aircrafts). This brilliant spell included three victories over Fokker DVIIs (the legendary German combat aircraft considered so threatening that its handover was made compulsory under the Armistice Agreement between Germany and the Allied powers).
Unfortunately, the talented pilot didn’t survive the war. Roy was shot down on July 22, 1918, when his plane was attacked by four Fokker DVIIs during a daring sortie. The gutsy pilot fought back with all he had, taking down two of the enemy aircrafts. However, hit by the relentless gunfire from the Fokker DVIIs, his plane burst into flames before crashing into German-controlled territory. He was just 19 years old when he breathed his last.
Such was the brave Bengali teenager’s reputation as a pilot that even the Red Baron (Manfred von Richtofen), the celebrated German flying ace, paid him a tribute by dropping a wreath from the skies at the spot where his plane had crashed. In September 1918, he was posthumously decorated with the Distinguished Flying Cross, the first Indian to be awarded the honour.
Indra Lal Roy was buried at the Estevelles Communal Cemetery, about 100 km north of the grave of another Indian combat pilot of World War I, Lieutenant Srikrishna Welingkar. His grave bears a simple inscription in Bengali that reads “Maha birer samadhi; sambhram dekhao, sparsha koro na” (The grave of courageous warrior; respect it, do not touch it).
Post script: Indra Lal Roy’s nephew, Subroto Mukerjee also served as a fighter pilot during World War II and went onto become the first Chief of Air Staff of the Indian Air Force.
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A statesman, economist and engineer par excellence, Mokshagundam Visvesvaraya was one of India’s foremost nation-builders. Born on September 15, 1861, in Muddenahalli (in modern-day Karnataka), he completed his school education in Chikkaballapur and Bengaluru. After graduating in engineering in 1883, he joined Bombay’s Public Works Department as an assistant engineer and worked there for the next 25 years.
However, Visvesvaraya attained the pinnacle of his professional achievement during his tenure as the Chief Engineer (and later Diwan) of the kingdom of Mysore. Every initiative he started during this period continues to bear rich fruit even to this day – from the State Bank of Mysore, Mysore University and Mysore Paper Mills to Bhadravati Iron Works and Krishnaraja Sagar Dam.
While most Indians know about Visvesvaraya’s immense contributions as the Diwan of Mysore, few are aware that the legendary engineer also played a key role in making Hyderabad flood-free way back in the 1920s.
On the occasion of his 156th birth anniversary, also celebrated in India as Engineer’s Day, we bring you this little-known story about Sir M V Visvesvaraya.
In 1908, Visvesaraya had opted for voluntary retirement (from his job at Bombay’s PWD) and embarked on a world tour to study the systems and designs prevalent in the industrialised countries of the western world. Armed with a brilliant vision for the development of modern India, he returned home in 1909.
When Visvesvaraya was touring the world, Hyderabad was being battered by a devastating flood. In September 28, 1908, the river Musi had flooded the streets of the city after torrential rainfall due to a cloudburst. As the water poured into the small irrigation tanks dotting the city, their overburdened walls of the tanks gave way under the pressure.
The flood level rose to unprecedented heights, leaving a trail of death and destruction in its wake. Nearly 19000 houses collapsed, about 15000 lives were lost and around 1 lakh people, (roughly one-quarter of the city’s population) were left homeless.
At least 12 such floods had been caused by the river Musi in the past but the devastation caused in by the deluge in 1908 was unprecedented. The sixth Nizam of Hyderabad, Mahboob Ali Khan, personally supervised rescue operations and distributed relief supplies among the floods victim. He also threw open the gates of the royal palaces for the victims while the royal kitchens fed over 5 lakh of them for several days.
Mahboob Ali Khan also took several measures to combat a similar flood in the future, including commissioning Visvesvaraya as an adviser and consultant for Hyderabad’s flood management plan. The British had wanted to send their own expert but the Nizam had heard of Visvesvaraya’s engineering expertise and decided to choose him for this crucial project.
Visvesvaraya agreed to conduct a study and suggest flood-management measures for the city on two conditions – that he would be paid the same salary as the British expert, and that he would be free to employ anybody he liked. Once these conditions were accepted, he got down to the job with his customary thoroughness.
Visvesvaraya began by collecting and studying data on the rainfall received in different parts of India, especially the neighbouring provinces of Bombay and Madras. He also conducted a detailed survey of Hyderabad’s network of rivers and reservoirs before devoting time to understanding the engineering aspects of the problem.
The solution devised by Visvesvaraya involved creating storage reservoirs above the city that would control floods by storing water that exceeded the river’s carrying capacity. He submitted the report on October 1, 1909, along with other recommendations for improving the flood-resilience of civic amenities. This included the establishment of a City Improvement Board and an allocation of 2 million rupees per year for the next six years for flood prevention works.
Here’s an excerpt from his 1909 report, titled ‘The Flood of 1908 at Hyderabad – An Account of the Flood, Its Causes and Proposed Preventive Measures’:
“The flood embankments on both sides will be carried out to a height of 5 feet above the flood level. For greater part of their length, these embankments will be constructed along boulevard…These boulevards will be the lungs of the city. The poor, who are the ones largely using footpaths and roads, will benefit as much as the rich, by clean, shaded, well kept roadways and graceful surroundings…its of greatest importance that the Government does not miss this opportunity to render the riverfront healthy and picturesque.”
Visvesvaraya’s solutions were accepted with alacrity and work commenced on the construction of two storage reservoirs — Osman Sagar and Himayat Sagar — above the city of Hyderabad (one across the river Musi and another across its tributary, river Esi), along with a modern system of underground drainage.
Damaged walls were rebuilt, existing bunds were strengthened and the area between the Char Minar and river Musi was also reconstructed after the Aaraish-e-Balda (City Improvement Board) was established in 1912. The squalid and overcrowded residential areas along the river bank were transformed into parks and boulevards beyond which the Osmania General Hospital, the High Court and the State Central Library were constructed.
In 1911, Mahbub Ali Pasha passed away and the seventh Nizam, Mir Osman Ali Khan, took over the implementation of the plan. Osman Sagar was completed in 1920 and Himayat Sagar in 1927, proving to be a turning point for the people of Hyderabad. River Musi’s frequent floods were tamed for many of the coming decades.
However, subsequent rulers and governments did little to improve the flood management system designed by Visvesvaraya, even as Hyderabad expanded in leaps and bounds. In August 2000, torrential rains wreaked havoc again. The City of Pearls experienced one of the worst floods seen since 1908, with as many as 90 residential areas in the city being submerged under water.
With Hyderabad reeling under the threat of a massive flood yet again, maybe it’s time to draw inspiration from India’s most prolific civil engineer and devise an effective flood management plan for the city. There could be no better way to celebrate the memory of the man who once made Hyderabad flood-free.
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In January 2017, India completed five years of being polio-free. A highly infectious viral disease that leads to irreversible paralysis, polio (or poliomyelitis) once used to cripple more than 50,000 children in the country every year. Thanks to decades of intervention by the Indian government and civil society, it was finally eradicated in 2011.
However, few know that the foundation for this remarkable achievement was laid by a gritty and determined woman who envisioned a polio-free India over seven decades ago. That pioneering lady was Padma Shri Fathema Ismail.
Born on February 4, 1903, Fathema was the sister of ardent Gandhi supporter and Bombay’s cotton king, Umar Sobhani. Given her brother’s proximity to the leaders of the Indian freedom struggle, she was drawn to issues of social justice and emancipation from a very young age.
Passionate about women’s education, Fathema worked as a teacher at an Industrial Training Centre for women after her marriage to Mohammad Hasham Ismail (a government trade commissioner). She served as the secretary of the Shimla branch of the All India Women’s Conference in 1936 and was a founder member of All India Village Industries Association.
Fathema was also actively involved in the nationalist movements taking place in India. Her house on Nepean Sea Road in Bombay (now Mumbai) was a meeting ground for the members of the Indian National Congress and a safe haven for underground freedom fighters. Jayprakash Narayan, Aruna Asaf Ali and other young leaders often hid at her residence (under assumed names) to avoid getting arrested by the police!
Fathema’s life, however, took a different turn in 1945 when her three-year-old daughter Usha was diagnosed with poliomyelitis. She was deeply dejected on realising that there was very little that could be done. Yet at the same time, she was determined to get her daughter the best medical attention available in the country.
Driven by this thought, Fathema travelled the length and breadth of India to ensure proper medical treatment for her daughter. She was disturbed to see the lack of facilities for polio-stricken children. This, combined with the lackadaisical attitude of the country’s medical community, convinced her to do something to change the lives of polio patients for the better.
When her husband was transferred to Iran from his posting in Mombasa, Fathema decided to stay back in India. She had heard about a renowned orthopaedic surgeon based in Madras (now Chennai), Dr MG Kini, who could treat her daughter and decided to visit him.
A grumpy old man, Dr Kini declined to accept Usha’s case at first. Nonetheless, his resistance was worn down by the tenacious Fathema who literally sat outside his house every day (accosting him as he travelled between his house and clinic) till he agreed. For the next eight months, she stayed in Madras as her daughter underwent treatment under the supervision of Dr Kini.
Fathema’s next stop after Madras was Pune (where she had learnt there were physiotherapy facilities that could help her daughter’s treatment). These facilities were used by the British physiotherapists and their Indian assistants to treat and rehabilitate injured soldiers. The determined mother requested and petitioned the reluctant authorities till they agreed to give Usha access to the physiotherapy treatment.
Fathema herself spent time observing and learning the methods employed at the rehabilitation centre. What helped her in this effort was the three years (1920-23) she had spent studying medicine in Vienna (due to a financial crisis, she had to return before she could her complete her course).
After approximately three years of treatment and physiotherapy, Fathema’s daughter regained remarkable mobility in her once completely paralysed right leg. Delighted by the improvement, she decided to use her experience and learning by helping other parents with polio-stricken children.
In 1947, as India began taking her final steps towards independence, Fathema began talking to the leading members of Bombay’s medical community about starting a rehabilitation clinic for polio-stricken kids. However, low awareness about polio along with a financial crunch made it tough for her to find a suitable space and equipment for the clinic, tentatively named Physiotherapy and Rehabilitation Centre for Infantile Paralysis (it was later called Society for Rehabilitation of Crippled Children).
This major hurdle was crossed with help from Dr AV Baliga, a surgeon who generously offered his clinic in Chowpatty to Fathema as he was going to the USA on a six-month study tour. The equipment and kits were sourced from the Army Hospital in Pune that was winding up due to the imminent departure of the British from India. Fathema also convinced the hospital’s Indian physiotherapy assistants to take up jobs at her rehabilitation clinic.
The polio clinic finally opened in May 1947. As the word began to spread about its work, patients began to trickle in. A year later, Fathema’s immensely popular clinic was treating 80 children and had a waiting list of more than a hundred patients!
Children of Society for Rehabilitation of Crippled Children (SRCC) that was started by Fathema Ismail
As a newly independent India woke up to the needs of polio-stricken and disabled children, the clinic began garnering attention from medical journals, NGOs and activists across the country. Soon, the government of Bombay allotted space in the empty barrack at Marine Drive to Fathema for her clinic.
In 1951, Fathema toured hospitals and attended conferences (including the Second International Polio Poliomyelitis Congress) in USA and Europe for four months. Armed with a vision for a fully-fledged hospital dedicated to polio patients, she returned to India and immediately petitioned Prime Minister Nehru for a plot near the race course at Haji Ali.
When Nehru asked her why she wanted that particular plot, Fathema answered that the racecourse was frequented by affluent people and she wanted them to be aware of the struggles faced by polio-stricken children.
The Prime Minister acquiesced, and himself inaugurated the first-of-its-kind 50-bed hospital in 1953 (it continues to operate to this day). The incredibly dedicated women also convinced several prominent industrialists to offer training to disabled people at her clinics to help them get employment.
In 1959, Fathema started a special class for a few polio-stricken students (including her daughter) which grew into a school for disabled children from underprivileged backgrounds.
Equipment and free lunches were sponsored by corporate companies while a Fellowship for the Physically Handicapped was set up to provide special education and training to the most promising students.
Today, over 300 students receive academic and vocational training in Fathema’s schools (three day schools in Mumbai and one residential school in Lonavala).
Awarded the Padma Shri in 1958 for her exemplary work, Fathema Ismail passed away on February 4, 1987. The pioneering activist didn’t just transform her daughter’s life; she helped innumerable polio-stricken children stand on their own feet and live life on their own terms. Her years of work also laid the foundation that was crucial for India’s achievement of polio eradication.
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It isn’t an uncommon sight to watch firebrand women in the black fight for human rights in the courts of law.
Indira Jaising, Flavia Agnes, Kamini Jaiswal, Meenakshi Lekhi, Karuna Nundy, Vrinda Grover, Rebecca John – the list of noteworthy women lawyers in India is neverending.
But did you know? Who fought for these exceptional women to hold their heads high and argue in the court of law as early as 1924?
Born in 1866, Cornelia Sorabji, was India’s first woman lawyer.
Cornelia had a series of firsts to her credit. She was the first female graduate of Bombay University to be admitted to the Allahabad High Court. In 1889, she became the first woman to read law at Oxford University, and also the first Indian to study at any British university.
Last but certainly not the least, she became the first woman to practise law, not only in India but also in the whole of Britain.
Born to Reverend Sorabji Karsedji, a Parsi, and his wife, Francina Ford (a Parsi, adopted and raised by a British couple), Cornelia was one of the nine children in the Sorabji household.
Francina was a champion of women’s education and established several girls’ schools in Pune. She would often be consulted by local women in matters of property inheritance and disputes and served as a great influence to a young Cornelia.
Cornelia was homeschooled by her father at several of their mission schools.
While her father ran pillar to post to get his two oldest daughters into Bombay University, the authorities wouldn’t budge. They were refused admission on the grounds that no woman had ever been to university. But Cornelia was the only one among the lot to finally get entrance and matriculated at the age of 16.
At college, it was an everyday sight to see boys slamming classroom doors in her face to sabotage her chances of attending lectures. They seemed threatened that a girl had finally upended norms and encroached on their domain!
She proved all naysayers wrong when in just six years, she graduated, topping her college in English Literature.
Having topped her batch, Cornelia was expecting a scholarship to England for higher studies. All her hopes came crashing down when she was refused the award just because she was a woman!
Her scholarship became a raging debate in the House of Commons. When Sir John Kennaway raised a question, asking if a woman in the British Raj was denied a scholarship to an English university because of her gender, the Secretary of State for India confirmed it.
Cornelia stood defeated.
But all hope was not lost. Some of the most prominent personalities of the time, like Mary Hobhouse, Adelaide Manning, Florence Nightingale, Sir William Wedderburn and others, pooled money from their own pockets to fund Cornelia’s scholarship to Oxford.
Being a woman the doors of law studies were shut to her. ‘You can only read English Literature,’ she was told. It wasn’t until the arrival of the influential academic and philosopher Benjamin Jowett that things changed for Cornelia.
He arranged for her to read Law by getting a special Law course devised.
He was among the English petitioners who helped her receive special permission by Congregational Decree to take the Bachelor of Civil Laws exam at Somerville College, Oxford, making her, yet again, the first woman to ever do so in 1892.
It is a postgraduate degree, undertaken by barristers and undergrads in London with at least five years of training. She was attempting to crack it in two years.
She was knocked off when the examiner who refused to examine her at first, gave her a third class in the exam.
Despite having passed the exam, there was a rule that no woman was allowed to collect her degree for the next 30 years.
She started working for a year at solicitors firm called Lee & Pemberton in London. An aristocrat, Lord Hobhouse, also the husband of one of the women who funded her scholarship, got her special permissions to read in the Library in Lincoln’s Inn. Until then, women were not allowed to read at the library.
She cleared her Bachelors of Law the same year while practising at the solicitors’ office. She decided to return to India with the hope of uplifting women with her new degree.
Her homecoming in 1894 marked yet another defeat. The then Chief Justice in Bombay passed an order telling legal practitioners to not to employ a woman. Her hope of working as a solicitor crashed to the ground.
Despite having completed her postgraduate degree from Oxford, Cornelia felt undertaking an undergraduate degree in Law from the Bombay University would help alleviate her grievances.
But everyone around her was set on sabotaging her efforts. She was failed in her undergrad program.
Even though the British Raj were adamant to not let a woman lawyer practice in the Bombay presidency, the Maharajas were welcoming. But despite being offered the opportunity to become an advocate for the royals, they gave her only frivolous cases.
One such case included fighting for an elephant who stole bananas from a grove. The Maharaja himself was the culprit & the judge. The case was staged for sheer pleasure, as they watched a woman lawyer put up a fight.
By 1899 Cornelia was still tirelessly fighting for her right to be recognised as a barrister for five years. When nothing worked in her favour, she dedicated the next five years of her life inventing a role.
At the moment, the plight of the purdahnashins or secluded women in the country was unbearable. These were women, who according to Hindu law, wore a purdah (veil) and were forbidden from communicating with the outside male world.
After marriage, they never saw the outside world again. They were barred from speaking to any male other than their husband. If they were widowed, they could not speak to any male at all. Their education stopped when they were married. They knew nothing about the law. Nonetheless, these were women who owned considerable property, but in case of disputes over the same property, they could never access legal help because all the lawyers were men.
She decided to become a legal advisor to the British Government on the state of secluded women.
In 1904, when Lord Broderick, was appointed Secretary of State for India, he demanded that a woman be appointed as advisor to the secluded ones.
Despite Viceroy Lord Curzon’s disagreement, he gave her special permission to enter pleas on the behalf of the purdahnashins before British agents of Kathiawar and Indore principalities.
During the next 20 years of service as a practising lawyer, she helped over 600 women and orphans fight legal battles, sometimes charging them nothing at all!
The Jurors at Runnymede with Cornelia Sorbaji installation. Source: Facebook
The major issue for these women in purdah, child brides and widows was, that all the inherited property they had, could only be used while the heirs were alive. They could access no control in case any of their children died.
This made it a common for fraudsters to con these women and kill their children to seize their property.
Cornelia not only protected them against fraud and murder attempts but also set helped them experience freedom in ways unknown to them.
She got six of them trained as nurses. The purdah still existed, but for women who hadn’t seen the world outside their family since the age of 4, it was a huge milestone.
Once restricted from stepping out of their veils, these women worked around their customs and found a new way of nursing people from all walks of life. They were now stepping out of their homes and trading in public places, all thanks to Cornelia Sorabji.
Her efforts finally bore fruit in 1924, when the legal profession was opened to women in India. She began practising in Calcutta and retired in 1929. She left for England and continued to live there, frequently visiting India, until her death in 1954.
Renowned as the first Muslim female ruler of the Delhi Sultanate, Razia Sultan ruled Delhi from 1236 to 1240.
Never in the history of the Mamluk dynasty, had the title of ‘Sultan’ bestowed upon or used to address a woman, because a woman had never ruled before.
When she took over the throne on 10 November 1236, with the official name of Jalâlat-ud-Dîn Raziyâ, she made a conscious decision to give up her traditional Muslim woman attire, including the pardah, which invited the fury of conservative Muslims. She adopted a gender-neutral attire instead, more like the male rulers before her.
Razia refused to be addressed as ‘Sultana,’ the term that would be used to address her according to her gender. Her justification was, Sultana meant “wife or mistress of a Sultan (ruler).” And she proudly proclaimed she be addressed as “Sultan”, as she herself was second to none. In fact, she was supreme.
The fifth Mamluk dynasty ruler, history deems Razia Sultan as one of the very few female rulers in the history of Islamic civilizations across the world.
During her reign, she ordered coins be minted with her title as “Pillar of Women, Queen of the Times, Sultan Razia, daughter of Shamsuddin Iltumish.”
The Mamluk Dynasty (Slave Dynasty) leading to the rule of Razia
Born to Sultan Iltutmish and Qutub Begum, Razia’s family did not belong to the class of nobles. In fact, her ancestral roots trace back to Turkish Seljuk slaves! As one of the leading rulers of the Slave Dynasty, her reign challenged the very foundation of societal class and shook power structures.
Her father and late ruler Iltutmish originally arrived in Delhi as a slave, under ruler Quṭb al-Dīn Aibak. It was Aibak who laid the foundation of the Mamluk dynasty or Slave dynasty. He himself was sold as a young slave and climbed the ladder to succeed his predecessor, the Muhammad of Ghor.
As Quṭb al-Dīn Aibak’s confidante, Iltutmish displayed bravery and honesty to earn the position of a provincial governor. The ruler trusted him enough to have offered his daughter, Qutub Begum’s hand, in marriage to Iltutmish.
Sultan Qutb-ud-din died an unfortunate death in a chaugan (a game like polo) accident in 1210, leading his heir-apparent son, Aram Baksh, take over the throne.
When Aram did match the standards of a competent ruler, a group of forty Turkic nobles called ‘Chihalgani’ – who opposed Aram’s rule – invited Iltutmish to succeed him as the Sultan of Delhi.
This led to a battle between Aram Shah and Iltutmish on the plain of Bagh-i-Jud near Delhi, where Iltutmish defeated Aram to ascend the throne in 1211.
After a successful rule of 25 years, Iltutmish died in 1236. His death sparked years of political turmoil in the Delhi Sultanate. While his oldest son, Nasir-ud-din Mahmud, died in 1229 while governing Bengal, the dying Sultan did not deem any of his surviving sons to be capable rulers.
By his deathbed, the Sultan rewrote history by nominating his daughter, Razia, as his heiress.
Despite having been nominated by her father, Razia wasn’t supported by the court of nobles, who refused to be ruled by a woman. Her oldest surviving brother Rukn-ud-din Firuz was raised to the throne instead.
Leaving governance in the hands of his mother, Firuz engaged in hedonistic pleasures, angering the nobles. On November 9, 1236, both his mother and he were assassinated within six months of coming to power. His death led Razia to become the first Muslim woman ruler of the Delhi Sultanate.
Razia’s childhood
Born to Iltutmish and Qutub Begum in 1205, Razia was trained in professional warfare and was taught military skills, along with her siblings. Just like most other children of aristocrats, she had a sound knowledge of how state governance worked.
These skills were initially inculcated in a young Razia, to help her serve as a good wife and queen to a king. Little did people know, she was going to be a powerful ruler herself!
Growing up, Razia had very little interaction with the women in the harem, which refers to domestic spaces reserved for women of a Muslim household and is inaccessible to adult males except for close relations.
So, never being forced to follow these rules, she never inculcated the timid and reserved behaviour of women around her. Razia wouldn’t bat a lash before giving her opinion or assisting her father actively in the affairs of State.
Even when she rose to power as Sultan, she would mount an elephant as the chief of her army in the battlefield, with her face displayed in public.
Razia Sultan fought on the forefront and won battles seizing various territories. Her gender was never an excuse. She mastered administration, rubbing shoulders with the best Sultans Delhi had ever been ruled by.
She established a host of schools, academies, centres for research, and public libraries. The syllabus in schools and colleges included the Qur’an, the works of popular ancient philosophers, the traditions of Muhammad and various Hindu works in science, philosophy, astronomy, and literature.
Jealousy and conspiracy
Razia’s rise to power sparked jealousy among many Turkish nobles who felt a female Sultan was a humiliation to male warriors and nobles. One such noble was Malik Ikhtiar-ud-din Altunia, the then governor of Bhatinda, who conspired against Razia.
What came as a surprise to many historians is that Altunia was also one of Razia’s closest childhood friends. He hatched a plan to help Razia’s brother, Muizuddin Bahram Shah, take possession of the throne.
She fought tooth and nail with her army against him but suffered a miserable defeat. Altunia imprisoned Razia at Qila Mubarak in Bathinda. Meanwhile, Muizuddin Bahram Shah declared himself the Sultan of Delhi.
Many nobles tried to assassinate her character claiming she was in a romantic relationship with one of her Abyssinian slaves – Jamaluddin Yaqut, who was killed in the battle that ensued between Razia and Altunia.
Some historians suggest Razia was treated royally as a prisoner because Altunia was in love with her all along. It was his jealousy and rumours about Razia and Yakut’s relationship that triggered his rebellion, to capture Razia and claim her back.
There are also alternative points of view that suggest, Razia married Altunia to escape death.
In 1240, Razia and now her husband, Altunia, decided to seize and reclaim the lost kingdom from her brother. But Bahram’s forces defeated the husband-wife duo, on 24th of Rabi’ al-awwal A.H. 638 (Oct. 1240). They fled Delhi and reached Kaithal the next day. But all the remaining forces had abandoned them.
They were captured by Hindu Jats, who robbed and killed them on 25th of Rabi’ al-awwal A.H. 638, which corresponds to October 14, 1240.
Thus died, the first and last woman Sultan of Delhi, at the young age of 35.
“We fight deep inside enemy territory, and one bullet can cripple an aircraft. If I ever become a prisoner of war, I will escape.”
Flight Lieutenant Dilip Parulkar said these words to his commanding officer, M S Bawa, one fine evening in 1968. Three years later, during the Indo-Pak war of 1971, he was shot down inside Pakistani territory and taken as a prisoner, along with 11 other IAF pilots. And true to his word, Lt.
Parulkar did what he promised — he escaped, along with two other IAF pilots, Melvinder Singh Grewal and Harish Sinhji.
This incredibly daring escape from a prisoner of war (PoW) camp in Rawalpindi is now the subject of a crowd-funded movie by Hyderabadi film-maker Taranjiet Singh Namdhari, The Great Indian Escape, that will be commercially launched on October 8 this year, Indian Air Force Day.
The year was 1971, and the Indo-Pak border had become a battlefield. A watchtower near the town of Zafarwal (east of Lahore in Pakistan) had proved to be troublesome for the IAF. The Sukhoi-7 fighters of IAF’s Adampur-based 26 Squadron had been given the task of neutralising this crucial radar station.
On December 10, 1971, Flight Lieutenant Parulkar was on a sortie mission to bomb this watch tower when his Sukhoi 7 was shot down by anti-aircraft guns. After ejecting safely from his nose-diving aircraft, he parachuted right into the midst of hostile locals who immediately informed Pakistani officials.
When the officials arrived, several of them started thrashing Parulkar before a senior officer stepped in and ordered his men to capture the pilot. Savagely punched on the head, he lost consciousness as he was transported to a PoW camp.
The next time he woke up, he was in solitary confinement at the PAF Provost & Security Flight (PSF) in Rawalpindi — a camp for IAF prisoners of war. After a lengthy interrogation, Parulkar was allowed to mingle with flight lieutenants MS Grewal, Harish Sinhji and nine other IAF pilots who had been captured during previous missions. Though they had to sleep in their individual cells, they were allowed to spend time together from breakfast to dinner.
Unlike other Pakistani officers, Pakistani Squadron Leader Osman Amin (the commanding officer at the PoW camp) was friendly with the Indian pilots and allowed them access to books, magazines and board games. Parulkar would later recall his cordial interaction with Amin in an interaction with media persons in August 2017.
“We used to talk about Bollywood films and our families. Other Pakistani officers had become unhappy because of the preferential treatment the Indian pilots were getting from him. Amin once gave us a cassette player so that we could listen to music. He also gave me a map out of the Atlas book which later helped us escape,” he said.
On December 25, Amin invited the 11 PoWs to join the Christmas celebrations. Taking advantage of the informal atmosphere, the PoWs ferreted around for news of the war before huddling up to size up the situation. One of them broke the gladdening news that the Pakistani army had surrendered in Dacca (now Dhaka); they all quietly rejoiced at this important victory for their motherland.
It was then that Parulkar first broached his plan to escape from the PoW camp, but it was dismissed as foolhardiness by the others. However, the tenacious pilot didn’t give up and persisted till he finally managed to convince the spirited duo of Grewal and Sinhji.
Knowing that they most probably faced certain death if caught, the trio planned carefully, using the Oxford school atlas lent to Parulkar by Amin. After studying the map and the camp layout, they concluded that all they had to do was relocate to the cell nearest to a little-guarded corridor (used by the Pakistanis to move between buildings), dodge the single sentry on duty and cross the compound wall to alight on a paved street that led to the famous Grand Trunk Road.
The plan was to head north on this busy road before hitting the hills as returning to the Lahore war front meant making their way through mined land and two armies shooting at each other. From the hills, the trio planned to trek to Torkham, a town on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border that lay about 55 km away. If they crossed this less hazardous border, they could make their way to India without the fear of arrest.
The trio’s first step was to pal up with the staff, especially the guards, to help them shift into Cell 4 (near the barbwire fence). Using the entire group’s pooled savings (from the small allowance, ₹57/month, paid to them to comply with the Third Geneva Convention), the trio began stacking up on provisions (like condensed milk and dry fruits) and survival gear.
Curtains, belts and torn parachute canopies were used to stitch haversacks while bladders cut out from G-suits (anti-gravity garments worn by fighter pilots) were used to make water bags. Used needles were magnetised with transistor batteries and ingeniously tucked into hollowed-out pens to make compasses that could be clipped to a pocket without arousing suspicion!
As for getting Pathan suits for their disguise, they were plain lucky. Red Cross agents had begun bringing letters and parcels sent by families of the PoWs. Parulkar’s parents sent a parcel containing three pairs of shirts and trousers that were tailored to resemble Pathan suits.
The last and most important step was stealthily digging a hole in the 18-inch-thick wall. Every night, the trio would use forks and scissors (that they had borrowed to trim the beards they had purposefully grown) to scrape out the mortar between the bricks.
On midnight of August 13, 1972, Parulkar, Grewal and Sinhji silently escaped from camp as a storm brewed on the horizon. Other than their meticulous planning, they were aided by the relaxed mood that pervaded the camp and its sentries thanks to an upcoming holiday (August 14 was Pakistan’s Independence Day).
As the clouds opened up, the soaked trio sprinted towards the highways, a hope in their hearts and a prayer on their lips. Assuming their pseudonyms and roles as tourists on a trek to Khyber, they boarded a bus bound for Peshawar.
Getting off just before the bus entered the city limits, they began their trek into Pathan country. On the trail, the trio hailed a tonga (horse cart) but the nosy tongawala grilled them so much that they quickly got off before continuing on foot.
Unfortunately, they were a mere 8 km short of their destination when they were captured at Jamrud. Their disguise had been given away by their questions about Landi Khana, the rail-head of the Khyber Pass Railway and the last halt in the district according to their research. What they did not know was that the railway station had been closed since December 1932.
Had they not raised suspicion of the locals by searching for a place that didn’t exist, their plan to reach Afghanistan would have been successful!
Marched under armed escort to the local tehsildar, the trio were locked up in jail. Only a masterstroke could save them from the firing squad, and Parulkar somehow managed to achieve one: He convinced the reluctant tehsildar to allow him to make a phone call to Amin. The unpleasantly surprised Amin confirmed their identity and asked the tehsildar to keep them behind bars but not to harm them physically.
Parulkar, Grewal and Sinhji were turned over to the Rawalpindi camp, where the furious camp commandant Wahid-ud-din (Amin had been transferred elsewhere a few months earlier) sentenced them to 30 days of solitary confinement. A few days later, they too were transferred to Faisalabad jail before their repatriation (along with other IAF pilots) was declared by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto.
On December 1, 1972, the IAF pilots were given a hero’s welcome at the Wagah border before a grand reception at the air force unit in Amritsar — the story of their audacious escape had reached home before they had. From Amritsar, they were flown to Delhi where they were finally reunited with their teary-eyed families and friends.
Years later, when Namdhari read Air Chief Marshal PC Lal’s book, My Years with the IAF, on a flight to Mumbai, he knew that this was a story that deserved to be told. He tracked down Parulkar (who has settled in Pune after retirement), and at the end of six days, he had 45 hours of recorded material that formed the foundation for The Great Indian Escape.
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Founded in 1577 by the Sikh guru, Guru Ram Das, Amritsar is home to Sikhism’s holiest shrine and one of India’s most beautiful edifices, the Golden Temple. With an exquisitely gilded central shrine, a serene Sarovar (sacred pool) and collonaded marble arcades reverberating with the chants of Shabad Gurbani, this iconic gurudwaraoffers a tranquil experience that remains with you long after you’ve left.
Harmandir Sahib (as the Golden Temple is also known) is also home to one of the biggest community kitchens in the world, that provides simple, wholesome and free meals to around 75,000 people on an average day.
However, few people know that the gleaming temple complex also houses a unique library of rare manuscripts called the Sikh Reference Library.
Established in 1946 by the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee (SGPC), the Sikh Reference Library had its roots in a 1945 meeting of the Sikh Historical Society presided over by Princess Bamba – the eldest daughter of Maharaja Duleep Singh, the last ruling family of the Sikh Empire.
A storehouse of over 1,500 one-of-their-kind manuscripts, the library’s collection included hukmnamas (edicts bearing signatures of revered Sikh Gurus), some manuscripts of the Guru Granth Sahib (like Adi Bir and Damdami Bir) and a few documents related to India’s freedom struggle.
Unfortunately, the library was nearly destroyed by a fire during Operation Bluestar in 1984. However, thanks to the efforts of a dedicated group of people, it is now a modern and up-to-date repository with double the number of rare books that it had originally!
After the SGPC issued a request for the recovery of rare books and documents, people from across the country started donating books, documents and manuscripts related not just to Sikhism but to Indian culture at large too. Prominent individuals on this list were Prof. Surjit Singh, Prof. Parkash Singh, and historian Sangat Singh (who donated 3,000, 450 and 750 books respectively), according to a statement by librarian Bagicha Singh to the Hindustan Times.
Also donated were many unusual age-old birs. Transcribed copies of the Guru Granth Sahib, birs contain a wealth of literary and historical information about religious history in the making. Many of them have handmade illustrations of gurus, historical gurudwaras and rare paintings as well as the replicas of scriptures written in the personal handwriting of seven Sikh gurus, making them sacrosanct for the Sikhs and priceless for the rest of the world.
Some examples of extremely rare birs are the Kartarpur bir ( the original Adi Granth, written by the fifth Sikh Guru Arjan Dev), the Shahidi bir of Nankana Sahib and the illuminated bir at Takhat Sri Hazur Sahib.
SGPC complemented these priceless donations by shifting books from other libraries run by them (such as the Guru Ram Das Library) to the Sikh Reference Library. The library also got photocopies of other rare books from the National Library (in Kolkata) and Punjabi University (in Patiala). This led to a rise in the number of the books from 13,125 in 1984 to 24,540 in 2017!
From 2008, the SGPC has been working to digitise the library’s entire collection and technical experts have already completed more than 15% of the work (around 400 books and documents).
The library has its own studio with hi-tech cameras, scanners and other equipment. Experts convert six books into PDFs every day.
The Sikh Reference Library has also installed a treatment plant with a fumigation chamber to prevent the time-worn papers from being affected by the elements or insects.
With the number of books and documents continuing to increase, SGPC now plans to move the library from its original location ( a tiny, two-storey building) to a new building (closer to the Golden Temple) that it’s constructing expressly for this purpose. Also on cards is the construction of an exhibition hall where rare manuscripts of Guru Granth Sahib will be put up for public display.
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“The sentinel hills that round us stand bear witness that we loved our land. Amidst shattered rocks and flaming pine we fought and died on Namti Plain. O Lohit gently by us glide pale stars above us softly shine as we sleep here in sun and rain.”
– An inscription at Walong War Memorial in Arunachal Padesh
The month-long Sino-Indian war of 1962 is mostly associated with defeat, but the fierce war did forge many heroes whose incredible acts of courage immortalized them forever. One such shining example of bravery was set by Subedar Joginder Singh.
Posthumously awarded India’s highest military award (Param Vir Chakra), Subedar Singh made the supreme sacrifice while defending Tongpen La (near Tawang in Arunachal Pradesh) during the 1962 Chinese aggression.
Here is the untold story of a soldier whose actions in the battlefield transcended heroism.
Subedar Joginder Singh was born on September 28, 1921, at Mahla Kalan village (near Moga) of Punjab. His parents, Sher Singh Sahnan and Krishan Kaur, farmed their own land. After clearing his 10th-grade examination, he joined the British Indian army’s First Sikh Regiment on September 28, 1936.
Soon after his training was completed, Joginder was sent to Burma where he served with distinction. After India finally got its hard-won independence, his regiment was posted to Srinagar where they fought the Pakistani tribal lashkars (militias) who had attacked Kashmir in 1947-48.
But the battle that would immortalize him in the annals of history would happen during the Sino-Indian War of 1962.
On October 20, 1962, three regiments of the Chinese Army attacked the ill-prepared and tactically-unsound Indian position at Namka Chu on the MacMahon line (the international boundary between India and Tibet). Despite being on the lower ground, the Indian troops offered stiff resistance to the Chinese. However, thanks to obsolete weapons, shortage of ammunition and a virtually non-existent line of communication, they were soon overpowered by the sheer numbers and superior firepower of the Chinese attack.
The Chinese then turned their attention towards the strategically-important town of Tawang in North East Frontier Agency (now Arunachal Pradesh). The shortest approach to Tawang from Namka Chu passed through the Bum-La axis.
To fortify the defence of this axis, a platoon of the 1 Sikh Regiment (under the leadership of Joginder) was immediately moved to a defensive position on IB ridge in the Tongpen La area overlooking the vast Tibetan Plateau.
In the wee hours of October 23, 1962, the Chinese army launched a heavy offensive on the Bum La axis, hoping to break through to Tawang. Supported by artillery and mortar fire, the Chinese troops attacked in three waves, each around 200 soldiers strong, hoping to overwhelm the small number of Indian soldiers they expected to be guarding the IB ridge.
But the Chinese had underestimated the battle acumen and courage of the man leading the small 23-man Indian platoon.
After studying the terrain of the ridge, Joginder and his men had worked day and night in the numbingly cold conditions (they had no winter gear) to build a network of strategically-positioned bunkers and trenches.
In the battle that followed, the advantage provided by this strategy helped Joginder and his men mow down the first wave of better-equipped Chinese with their outmoded Lee Enfield 303 rifles. As ammo was at a premium, he also made his men hold their fire till the enemy were completely in weapon-range.
Stunned by the quick destruction of their first wave, the next wave of Chinese troops hurled themselves at the Indian soldiers, all-guns-blazing, but they were dealt with similarly. However, by then, the platoon had lost half its men.
Joginder had been badly wounded in the thigh but he refused to be evacuated. Though out-manned and out-gunned, the tenacious soldier was not willing to withdraw an inch and continued to fight with all he had.
Inspired by their leader’s gallantry and tenacity, the platoon stubbornly held on to its ground. As the furious Chinese started their third wave of attack, Joginder himself manned a light machine-gun, screaming instructions and adjusting defensive positions. The enemy onslaught, however, continued to advance despite heavy losses to their number.
When the platoon had run out of ammunition, Joginder and the remaining soldiers fixed their bayonets and unmindful of certain death, charged headlong at the Chinese for a last-ditch attack. As the regiment’s piercing battle cry ‘Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal” rang through the air, Joginder’s gallant band of soldiers fought ferociously, bayoneting scores of shocked Chinese soldiers before they were overpowered.
After four hours of fierce fighting, a mortally wounded Joginder was taken as a prisoner of war. He later died in Chinese captivity. Of the 23 men who formed Joginder’s platoon, only three survived — that too because they had been sent by their leader to fetch more ammunition from the main army camp.
For his selflessness, dogged determination and raw courage in the face of the enemy, Subedar Joginder Singh was posthumously awarded independent India’s highest wartime gallantry award, Param Vir Chakra. The last line on his citation reads as follows:
“Throughout the action, Subedar Joginder Singh displayed devotion to duty, inspiring leadership and bravery of the highest order.”
On learning that Joginder had been awarded the Param Vir Chakra, the Chinese army, in a rare mark of respect, recognised his valour in battle by repatriating his ashes with full military honours to the regiment on May 17, 1963. Later, in a poignant ceremony at the Sikh Regimental Centre at Meerut, his ashes were handed over to his widow Gurdial Kaur and young children.
Besides a memorial statue near the District Collector’s office in Moga, the Indian Army has built a monument in Joginder Singh’s honour at the IB ridge while the Shipping Corporation of India has named one of their vessels after him. And so he lives on — in war memorials and monuments, in the snowy peaks where he defended his motherland so fiercely, and in the proud reminiscences of his dearly-loved children.
Interestingly, the life of the war hero will also soon be the subject of a Punjabi biopic, with singer-actor Gippy Grewal playing the leading role.
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India’s fight against colonial rule was a long drawn out battle that gained momentum in several phases since it started in the early 20th century. Examples of these phases are the Non-Cooperation movement of 1920-22 and the Civil Disobedience movement of 1930-32. However, the one rallying call that gave the country its ultimate push towards complete independence was “Quit India”.
By far the strongest and most vociferous appeal made by the Indian National Congress (INC), “Quit India” asked the British, loud and clear, to leave India once and for all. Interestingly, contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t Mahatma Gandhi who coined this iconic slogan.
Both “Quit India” and “Simon Go Back” slogans were coined by a lesser-known hero of India’s struggle for freedom, Yusuf Meherally.
The son of a well-to-do businessman, Yusuf Meherally was born in Bombay on September 3, 1903. Fifty years earlier, his great-grandfather had established one of Bombay’s first textile mills and the family had prospered ever since.
As a young boy, Meherally was curious about the nationalist movements developing around him. While he was in high school, he would spend much time reading about the revolutionary movements of the different nations and the role youth had played in them. Having witnessed his family’s upper class prejudices all his life, the sensitive boy was also deeply affected by the struggles of the working class.
Having soon become a staunch supporter of the freedom struggle, young Yusuf was looked upon as an embarrassing renegade by his pro-British family. Unaffected by their disapproval, he joined the movement immediately after finishing his schooling from Bharda High School.
After earning a B.A. in History and Economics from Elphinstone college, he was studying law at the Government Law College in February 1928 when Simon Commission reached Bombay. A group of seven British Members of Parliament, the Simon Commission had arrived in India to suggest constitutional reforms but didn’t have a single Indian member. This unfair and insulting decision had led to much anger and disappointment among Indians.
Having founded the Bombay Youth League the very same year, Meherally immediately organised a protest against the Simon Commision. He had initially planned an ambitious expedition on boats to meet the members at sea itself, but the plan was leaked and the police took stringent steps to prevent it from happening.
Undaunted, Meherally and other young men dressed up as coolies to get access to the Bombay port where they greeted the members of the commission with black flags and the slogan “Simon Go Back”. The resolute demonstrators were lathi-charged thrice but they did not budge an inch. As the news of the demonstration spread like wildfire, establishments across the city began observing spontaneous hartals.
Overnight, Meherally’s courage and slogan were on everyone’s lips, including Mahatma Gandhi’s. Not only had he dared to shout his slogan to the face of a powerful British politician, he had also defied the directions of his political seniors who counselled inaction.
Threatened by his growing popularity and radical views, the British debarred him from practising law to the consternation of his family. The rarity of this action can be seen from the fact that though several nationalist leaders were lawyers, none of them had been barred from practising law.
Two years later, when the Civil Disobedience movement was launched, Meherally and his band of young volunteers worked tirelessly to keep the morale of the public up in face of the severe repressive measures that the British unleashed.
As INC’s prominent leaders courted imprisonment and went to jail during the Salt Satyagraha, Meherally kept the movement running till he himself was arrested in 1930 and sentenced to four month’s imprisonment.
In 1932, Meherally was again arrested for conspiracy and sentenced to a two-year term in the Nasik prison. It was here that he met and interacted with the radical socialist leaders of the freedom struggle.
After his release in 1934, he joined hands with Jayaprakash Narayan, Asok Mehta, Narendra Dev, Achyut Patwadhan, Minoo Masani and others to found the Congress Socialist Party. The organisation hoped to transcend communal divisions through class solidarity and bring about economic empowerment through decentralized socialism (i.e farmer co-operatives and trade unions).
In 1938, Meherally led the Indian delegation to the World Youth Congress in New York before attending the World Cultural Conference taking place in Mexico. Here, he was struck by the lack of literature on contemporary issues in India when compared to the West. Determined to fill this gap, he authored a series of books titled ‘Leaders of India‘ that focused on current topics and translated them to Gujarati, Hindi and Urdu.
Here is an excerpt from the foreword he wrote:
“The rise of the pamphlet and the booklet as a powerful weapon for the spread of ideas has been truly remarkable. During my visits to these continents (US and Europe) I was greatly impressed by the part that such brochures play in moulding public opinion. In Europe and America there exists a wealth of topical literature that is in striking contrast to its scantiness in India.
The Current Topics Series of Padma Publications is an attempt to meet this need. The idea is to publish every few months a booklet on a subject of topical or special interest having regard to present-day controversies and their bearing on the future. The series will not be restricted to political questions only. Every title will be published in a pleasing format, at a price within the reach of all.”
In the next few years, Meherally was arrested several times for defying prohibitory orders and participating in Individual Satyagraha (launched by Gandhi to affirm one’s right of speech and oppose the British decision to involve India in World War II without the consent of its people).
In 1942, he was still in Lahore Jail when he was nominated by INC for the election to Bombay Mayoralty.This nomination was personally backed by Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel who knew that Meherally belonged to that rare breed of leaders for whom personal gratification meant ensuring the well-being of fellow countrymen.
Released from prison to participate in the elections, Meherally won comfortably, becoming the youngest Mayor in the history of Bombay’s municipal corporation. During his tenure, he became immensely popular among the public due to his dedication towards ensuring effective civic service.
One of Meherally’s first steps as a mayor was to introduce a quick dispatch system for files and deal with slacking officials with an iron hand. Other than personally attending to citizens’ complaints on civic issues, he took the unprecedented decision of refusing to pay municipal money for the British Government’s Air Raid Precautions (ARP) scheme.
The ARP scheme was a programme initiated for the protection of civilians from the danger of air raids. It included the organisation of ARP wardens, messengers, ambulance drivers and rescue parties who would liaison with police and fire brigades in case of an air raid.
Earlier, Bombay’s municipal corporation used to pay Rs 24 lakh to the British government for the ARP scheme but an adamant Meherally argued that the defense of the city should be in the hands of those who would remain on the scene no matter what and not the British who would probably withdraw in case of an attack (just like they had done in Malaya and Burma).
This led to the organisation of the People’s Volunteer Brigade in Bombay and the city became the only one in India where the municipal corporation was allowed to run the ARP scheme.
Indian women training for air raid precautions (ARP) duties in Bombay, 1942
All this while, he continued being involved in the country’s fight for freedom. On July 14, 1942, INC’s working committee had met at Wardha and demanded complete independence, failing which a massive civil disobedience movement would be launched.
Soon after, at a meeting in Bombay, Gandhi conferred with his closest associates on the best slogan for the movement. C Rajagopalachari suggested ‘Retreat’ or ‘Withdraw’ but it didn’t find much favour with the leader. It was Meherally who then came up with the succinct phrase — ‘Quit India’ — that got Gandhi’s approval.
In preparation for the nationwide movement, Meherally published a booklet titled Quit India (that sold out in a matter of weeks) and got over a thousand ‘Quit India’ badges printed to popularise the slogan. On August 8, 1942, Gandhi delivered his powerful Quit India speech at Mumbai’s Gowalia Tank Maidan. The next day, he was arrested along with practically the entire INC leadership.
Realising that these arrests had created a vacuum in the communication between the leadership and the masses, Meherally immediately mobilized his socialist colleagues – Aruna Asaf Ali, Ram Manohar Lohia and Achyut Patwardhan – to take charge of the Quit India movement while hiding underground, just before he himself was caught and put in prison.
It was during this last tenure in prison that Meherally suffered a debilitating heart attack. The prison authorities offered to shift him to St George Hospital for special treatment but the principled man demanded that two other ailing freedom fighters should also get the same facilities. When the authorities refused, he chose to remain in prison.
Over the following few months, freedom fighters across India responded with waves of civic rebellion despite the violent backlash from the British authorities. While the Quit India Movement did not result in immediate attainment of freedom, it did indeed create the massive pressure that resulted in India bidding farewell to the British just three years later.
By the time he was released in 1943, Meherally’s health had deteriorated sharply but he continued to contribute to the cause of Indian independence. The selfless leader was over the moon when his beloved motherland finally unshackled the chains of colonialism and awoke to freedom on August 15, 1947.
However, the years of struggle had taken its toll, rendering him weak and bed-ridden, though only physically and not in spirit. Even from his hospital bed, he continued to work to highlight India’s vibrant diversity and rich heritage.
In October 1949, Meherally organised a one-of-its-kind exhibition that displayed more than 200 pictures and paintings that traced the evolution of India’s freedom struggle since 1857. He also organised several cultural and literary events at Bombay’s famed Kala Ghoda, inviting Indian personalities who were legends in their respective fields.
On July 2, 1950, Yusuf Meherally passed away at the age of 47, his death rousing the same passion in the public as his slogans. Shocked at the loss of their beloved leader, all of Bombay was in collective mourning. The next day, as the clock struck noon, buses, trams and trains across the city stopped for a few minutes.
Almost all schools, colleges, shops, factories and mills remained shut. The Bombay Stock Exchange, an iconic symbol of the city’s financial strength, witnessed no trading though officially open for business. The city that never stopped, Bombay stood still in the memory of the man who had literally given his lifeblood for the city’s well-being and the country’s cause.
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