In the world of the Indian Armed Forces, he is known as ‘Bull’ Kumar. Colonel Narendra Kumar earned this unusual moniker when he charged at his six inch taller and tougher rival during his first boxing match at the National Defence Academy. His opponent and senior, Sunith Francis Rodrigues, went on to win the match and later become the Chief of Army Staff.

Col. Kumar, on the other hand, lost the bout but the nickname stuck. And he has more than lived up to it. Like a bull in a rodeo, the short and stocky army man loves a challenges and goes at it with a relentless single-minded focus, irrespective of its ramifications.

These qualities is perhaps why Col. Kumar almost single-handedly ensured India’s presence at Siachen in 1981, that too without spilling the blood of any soldier in the snowy realm.

Here’s the untold story of how how he accomplished this extraordinary feat.

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It all started with a German mountaineer and an American map. In the late 1970s, Col.Kumar was in charge of the High Altitude Warfare School in Gulmarg (which was also the mountain warfare school of the Indian Army).

A German explorer — with whom Kumar had earlier traversed the upper reaches of the Indus river in Ladakh — showed him an American map of northern Kashmir that marked the Line of Control (LoC) much further to the east than he expected.

Realising that the US appeared to have cartographically ceded a large chunk of eastern Karakoram (including the Siachen glacier) to Pakistan, a furious Col. Kumar bought the map and sent it straight to the Director General of Military Operations.

Alarm bells ringing loudly in his head, he also volunteered to organise an expedition to the area to “correct the map”. Realising the need to cut through red tape and get to work, the recon mission was thus termed a ‘practical training session’ for students.

Soon after, Col. Kumar headed into uncharted territory with a team of students from the High Altitude Warfare School. It was the first Indian expedition into the heart of Siachen — the largest alpine glacier on earth that has nearly two trillion cubic feet of ice.

Beginning at the snout of the glacier, Col. Kumar and his team slowly but steadily made their way up the massive bulk of unforgiving ice. On the way, they had to navigate tricky crevasses and stay ahead of avalanches while braving temperatures that dipped to a numbing -50 degrees Celsius.

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What should be noted here is that these incredibly brave men did all this without any maps or hi-tech equipment. All they had was a rough idea of the ridges and peaks that had been named by the British decades ago.

However, news of this expedition soon leaked across the border. By the time Col. Kumar’s unarmed team reached the icy source of Siachen, Pakistani fighter jets had started flying over them, firing coloured smoke!

This and the trash that the team had found along the way — Pakistani cigarette packs, food cans and climbing gear — convinced him that the Pakistanis had been stealthily trying to entrench their claim on Siachen. Taking this trash and photos of the hovering jets as proof of Pakistani incursions, the team returned to base.

Despite this recon report, it took Col. Kumar a while to convince his seniors about the seriousness of situation. It was not until early 1981 that he finally got the go-ahead to map the entire glacier, all the way from the snout to the Chinese border.

And so Col. Kumar returned to Siachen, this time becoming the first Indian to climb the Sia Kangri  —at 24,350 feet, this peak offers stunning views of the sprawling glacier. He came back with a detailed ‘sit-rep’ (situational report) that was immediately dispatched to Indian Army’s headquarters.

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The next year, he wrote about his exploration of Siachen in the popular magazine The Illustrated Weekly of India, in effect staking India’s claim. Realising that the Indian Army was now clearly involved, Pakistan ramped up its stealthy bid to secure Siachen for itself.

It might have succeeded (in creating a formidable Pak-China corridor controlling the Karakoram Pass and threatening Ladakh) if the Indian intelligence had not learned of some interesting purchases made by Pakistani Army in London in 1984 — bulk orders of specialized mountain clothing.

Recognizing the strategic threat, India immediately dispatched troops of Kumaon Regiment to the Siachen for control of the glacier and the neighbouring peaks in the Saltoro range. Under Operation Meghdoot, IAF choppers pushed themselves to their maximum capabilities to air-drop soldiers at Bilafond-La (that translates to “Pass of the Butterflies” in Balti language).

And this is how India established a crucial military foothold in what would go on to become the world’s highest battlefield, beating Pakistan by a week. Their most important weapon? The detailed maps, photographs and videos made by Col. Kumar and his team.

In the years that followed, a key army post on the glacier was named Kumar Base, making Col. Kumar perhaps the only living Indian army officer to enjoy this extremely rare honour.

Incredibly, securing Siachen for India is just one (though extremely important) notch in Col. Kumar’s towering list of achievements.

The soldier-mountaineer (who lost four of his toes to frostbite in 1961) is the first to scale Nandadevi (1964), the first to put India on Everest (1965) and first to climb Kanchenjunga from its toughest north-east face (1976) — a mountaineering feat described by The British Alpine Journal as ‘far more difficult than the Everest ascent’.

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A life-long friend of Tenzing Norgay, Col. Kumar has also entered the oxygen-depleted death zone above 8,000 m more than twenty times. In fact, every time he did this, the feisty soldier had to sign a non-liability certificate (because of his disability) saying that he absolve the government of all responsibilities should anything happen to him!

Unsurprisingly, this mountaineering legend is one of the most highly decorated officers in India. Narendra ‘Bull’ Kumar is the only colonel awarded the Param Vishisht Seva Medal (PVSM) distinction in all three services (normally accorded only to generals). He has also been honoured with the Padma Shri, the Kirti Chakra, the Ati Vishist Seva Medal, the Arjuna Award and the IMF Gold Medal by the Indian Mountaineering Foundation.

Furthermore, Col. Kumar is a winner of the McGregor Medal, awarded by the United Service Institution of India for the best military reconnaissance, exploration or survey in remote areas in the country. With this, he joined the illlustrious ranks of Sir Francis Younghusband (who explored the northern crown of Central Asia and India) and Major General Wingate (who conducted guerrilla recon missions deep in Burma).

Yet, few people in Indian know about Col. Kumar’s pioneering contributions to both mountaineering and national security. Its time we give him the respect and recognition he truly deserves.

Also Read: The Story of Bana Singh, The Hero Who Helped India Win The 1987 Siachen Standoff

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His songs were of patriotism, his words were that of a free spirit, and he lived for his vision of an independent India, until his last breath. While Tamilians all over the world continue to sing the songs he penned even today, not many people know about this revolutionary poet whose words had the power to incite a revolution. His name was Bharatiyar.

Born in 1882 as Chinnaswami Subramania Iyer, he grew up in the small village of Ettayapuram, in the Tirunelveli district. Even at a young age, he showed signs of musical ability, and by age eleven, he had begun writing poetry.

It was because of this precociousness that people began calling him “Bharati,” meaning, “the one blessed by Goddess Saraswati.”

Married when he was 15, to Chellamma, Bharatiyar lost both his parents by the time he was 16. After his father’s demise, he decided to go to Varanasi, where he was exposed to the spirit of nationalism, and became enamoured with the Sikh culture, even donning his own turban (one of his distinguishing features.)

While it is rumoured that Bharatiyar knew several languages, it is known that he was well-versed in Tamil, Hindi, Sanskrit, and English, among others.

Although he was offered a job in Varanasi, his love for his hometown brought him back to Ettayapuram in 1901, and he took his place in the court of the Raja of Ettayapuram, as a poet. However, this position was short-lived; and his interest in writing and his natural concern in India’s progress led him to journalism.

In 1904, he became Assistant Editor for Swadesamitran, a Tamil daily, started as a sister paper to The Hindu. The paper quickly became notorious in British India, for its criticism of the government and its call for nationalism, and independence.

You may also like: How a Poet Who Had Never Had Alcohol Mesmerised Us About a Madhushala

During his tenure as an Assistant Editor, he attended the All India Congress sessions and was enamoured by ideas of Swaraj. Speaking with prominent figures such as Dadabhai Naoroji, and Sister Nivedita (the spiritual heir of Swami Vivekananda), Bharatiyar continued to develop his nationalistic perspectives, and it fuelled his desire to see an independent India.

While Swadesamitran was oriented towards criticism of British rule, the poet and artist that Bharatiyar had always been found his outlet in publications like India and Bala Bharatham, of which he was a co-editor.

Through these papers, he published several poems, from hymns to the profound relationship between God and Man.

His actions did not go unnoticed for long. The proprietor of India was arrested in 1908. Faced with the threat of imprisonment, Bharatiyar was forced to escape to Pondicherry, which was at the time under French rule. While he continued to edit and publish India, Bala Bharatham, and other publications such as Suryodayam and Vijaya, the British tried to suppress his reach to the public. Eventually, both India and Vijaya were banned in 1909.

During this self-imposed exile in Pondicherry, Bharatiyar had the opportunity to interact with revolutionary thinkers, who shared the same ideology as him. Lala Lajpat Rai, Sri Aurobindo, and VVS Aiyar were just some of the people with whom he regularly discussed politics and ideas.

Apart from politics though, it was in Pondicherry that Bharatiyar created what is today seen as his most significant works.

His research and understanding of Vedic literature inspired creations such as Kuyil Pattu, Panchali Sapatham and Kannan Pattu, which were composed in 1912.

Panchali Sapatham was incredibly unique, as it likened Draupadi to women in India, tied and bound by the shackles of society, while the Pandavas were depicted as Indians, and the Kauravas as the British.

In 1918, he decided to re-enter British India through Cuddalore and was promptly arrested. He was Imprisoned at the Central Prison in Cuddalore for three weeks. After his release, he suffered bouts of illness and was struck by poverty.

Nevertheless, in 1920 he resumed editing for the Swadesamitran, continuing to use his voice to speak against actions he found wrong. Many considered his vision to be much before its time, and for the era, he lived in, were extremely progressive. He was one of the first advocates for feminism, believing that women deserved to have a place in politics and education. In fact, his poem, titled Pudhumai Penn, meaning “modern women,” includes the following lines:

“Her head held high, and looking everyone in the eye,
Unafraid of anyone because of innate integrity,
Possessing assuredness born of courage of conviction,
The modern woman never feels inferior to any”

He also fought against the caste system, writing, “There is no caste system. It is a sin to divide people on caste basis. The ones who are really of a superior class are the ones excelling in being just, wise, educated and loving.”

In 1921, he was struck by an elephant. Although he survived the incident, a few months later, his health deteriorated and he succumbed to the illness, passing away at the young age of 38.

While he was seen as a visionary, nationalist, and a freedom fighter in his own right, it was reported that only 14 people attended his funeral.

So loved was he by the people of Tamil Nadu, that they conferred him the title Mahakavi, meaning “great poet.” His poems became songs in several movies, and continue to be sung by people all around the world. While he never lived to see a free India, it was his words that rallied Tamilians to take part in the Swadeshi movement. He dared to wield the power of words, which were his weapon of choice against the British, and that made him a genuine revolutionary, forever etching his name in history.

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“Auroville will be the place of an unending education, of constant progress, a youth that never ages.” – Auroville Charter, 1968

About 50 years ago, on a sprawling sun-baked plateau north of Pondicherry, an advertisement was hammered onto the trunk of solitary banyan tree stood guard. Local folklore has it that the young tree sent out a call for help that was received by Mirra Alfassa in Sri Aurobindo Ashram.

Known to her followers as the Mother, the woman responded to the tree’s call and in doing so, she found the place she was looking for — the foundation for a universal township “where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony, above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities.”

This unique city would go on to become famous as Auroville, the tangible culmination of the spiritual collaboration between the Mother and Sri Aurobindo (an influential leader of the Indian movement for Independence).

Here’s the fascinating story of how many experiments, many challenges and one powerful vision forged the ‘City of Dawn’ — in French, ‘aurore‘ means dawn and ‘ville‘ means city.

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Auroville had its genesis in a meeting between the two great minds in March 1914 — a time when Sri Aurobindo had sought refuge in the then-French dominion of Pondicherry to escape arrest by the British.

After he passed away in 1950, it was the Mother who took on the task of bringing his idea of a “universal town” to fruition. Her guiding principles were Sri Aurobindo’s ideal of human unity, his emphasis on cultural collaboration and his vision of India as a spiritual leader of the world.

Interestingly, she was over 90 when she started work with architect Roger Anger to chalk out a blueprint for a city of 50,000 people!

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For the next few years, work on Auroville progressed rapidly under the Mother’s able guidance. And finally, on February 28, 1968, the township was formally inaugrated. Over 5,000 people from 124 countries (including India) gathered in the open amphitheatre next to the banyan tree to listen to the Mother read from The Auroville Charter and witness the city of the future being born.

To signify that the township belonged to none in particular but to humanity as a whole, these delegated also deposited a handful of their native soil into a marble-clad urn at the amphitheatre. An exhibition on Auroville and its city plan was displayed below an blue canopy erected among the trees.

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In the years that followed, regardless of which government was in power, Auroville continued to flourish. The pioneering residents of the township joined hands with the local villagers and got to work. Accommodations were built, wells were dug, gardens were planted and schools set up.

However, Auroville’s journey to its present state was not without its hurdles. In 1973, after the Mother’s death in 1973, bitter conflict developed between the residents and the township’s ‘parent’ organisation, the Sri Aurobindo Society.

Finally, the Government of India had to step in to end the conflict. In 1988, the Indian Parliament passed the Auroville Foundation Act to make the township a legal entity and safeguard its autonomy.

Today, Auroville is home to over 2,000 people — writers, artists, doctors, engineers, chefs, teachers, farmers, students etc — from over 40 countries, not to mention all regions of India. Closely resembling a lushly-forested university campus, the still-evolving township has few paved roads (most have deliberately been left so) or urban buildings of its own (like police stations or railway stations).

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Nonetheless, it does have a pretty town hall, unconventional-looking school buildings, alternative farms, plenty of garden restaurants, and a clutch of single-storey houses. However, the defining feature of Auroville has to be its absolutely surreal meditation hall, Matri Mandir.

Considered the “soul of Auroville”, Matri Mandir is an elaborate gold-plated sphere that took 37 years to see the light of day. The structure comprises 1,415 large gold discs and is suspended above 12 “petals” or themed meditation rooms, each of which is flanked by a themed garden.

Thus, to some onlookers, it looks like a lotus in full bloom while to others, it appears like giant golden golf-ball.

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Inside the Matri Mandir lies a huge chamber with gentle streams of water cascading down its white marble walls. Spiral ramps on all sides leading to an utterly silent meditation hall — a cocoon of peace and quietude that is believed to have first appeared in several visions to the Mother.

At its heart is a specially-designed crystal sphere from Germany (the largest optically-perfect glass globe in the world) that catches the sunbeams entering from the top of the dome. Below the sphere, lies a Lotus Pond of marble, with a small crystal sphere mirroring the giant one in the inner chamber above.

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Interestingly, nothing in Auroville is owned by any person there. Every single asset in the township is owned by the Auroville Foundation, which, in turn, is owned by the Government of India’s Ministry of Human Resource Development!

Furthermore, the residents of this unique township do not use currency inside Auroville. Instead, they are given account numbers (connected to their main account) and transactions are done via an ‘aurocard’ (that works like a debit card).

Basic healthcare facilities and electricity is free in Auroville. Schooling is also free and there are no exams — kids are encouraged to learn the subjects of their choice and at their own pace. As for the maintenance, the residents provide manpower and make contributions to the foundation on a monthly basis.

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Money earned from the daily visitors and guests are also used for the township’s upkeep. Small-scale industries (like hand-made paper, incense sticks etc) have also be set up to raise funds for various projects.

Auroville also the home of many futuristic experiments, from energy and ecology to economics and education. These include a one-of-its-kind collective provisioning operation, Pour Tous, in which members contribute a certain amount monthly and then take whatever they feel they need, without paying for the individual items provided.

Farmlands owned by Auroville produce crops consumed by the township in addition to working as research centres for sustainable agriculture and water conservation. For instance, Buddha Garden is a farm that experiments with sensor-based precision irrigation system — the first crop cycle saw an almost 80% drop in water consumption!

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With years of expertise in sustainable development (especially in wind and solar energy generation), Auroville Consulting provides advice and training to organisations such as such as Tamil Nadu Energy Development Agency (TNEDA) and Tamil Nadu Urban Finance and Infrastructure Development Corporation (TNUFIDC).

Moreover, thanks to years of meticulous silviculture, Auroville’s sprawling forests are counted among India’s most successful afforestation project. In fact, its experts have been using this experience in afforestation projects such as the one being implemented with Irula tribesmen near Chinglepet in Tamil Nadu and the National Wastelands Commission in the Palani Hills.

Thus, in many ways, Auroville is slowly but steadily living up to the vision that led to its birth. On February 28, 2018 (the township’s 50th anniversary), as waters from over a 100 countries is poured into an urn at the amphitheatre, the ancient banyan tree will probably be looking on with an immense feeling of satisfaction — a living testament to Auroville’s incredible journey!

Also Read: This Low-Cost Technology Is Helping a Puducherry Village Treat Its Wastewater, and It Uses Plants!

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“Dushman ki goliyon ka hum samna karenge, Azad hee rahein hain, Azad hee rahenge.” (Will face the foe’s bullets, but I am free and I shall remain free.)  – Chandra Shekhar Azad

The year was 1925. On August 9, as the No.8 Down Train from Shahjahanpur to Lucknow was approaching Kakori, a man in the second class compartment pulled the chain and the train stopped abruptly.

Ashfaqulla Khan got off with his friends Sachindra Bakshi and Rajendra Lahiri — he had completed the first part of his duty in the Kakori plot. The trio then joined their fellow revolutionaries from the newly established Hindustan Republican Association (HRA) in subduing the train’s guard and looting the official cash aboard it.

Shaken by the incident, the colonial authorities arrested more than two dozen HRA members within a month of the attack. During the famous trial that followed, four of the revolutionaries were hanged, four were sent to the Andamans for life, and 17 were sentenced to long prison terms.

Only one among the Kakori conspirators remained at large, a man who the police of the British Raj was never able to catch — Chandra Shekhar Azad.

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Here’s the story of the legendary freedom fighter whose name made the police of the British Raj break into a cold sweat

Born on July 23, 1906, to Pandit Sitaram Tiwari and his third wife Jagrani Devi, Chnadra Shekhar spent his early childhood in the Bhabra village of Madhya Pradesh’s Jhabua district in Madhya Pradesh. His father worked at the erstwhile estate of Alirajpur while his mother managed their home.

Chandra Shekhar’s mother wanted him to become a Sanskrit scholar and so the young lad was sent to Kashi Vidyapeeth in Varanasi for higher studies. It was here that he became aware of turmoil India was in as well as the nationalist struggle for freedom.

Deeply affected by the Jallianwala Bagh massacre of 1919, 15-year-old Chandra Shekhar joined the Non-Cooperation movement launched by Mahatma Gandhi.

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During one of these protests, he was arrested and presented before the district magistrate. When the district magistrate asked for his name, Chandra Shekhar proudly proclaimed his name as “Azad“.

The irate Englishman then asked for his father’s name to which the plucky teenager replied undauntedly, “My name is Azad (Free). My father is Swatantra (Independence). And the jail is my home.”

Infuriated by his audacious answers, the magistrate sentenced Chandra Shekhar to 15 lashings. But instead of being cowed, the brave teenager steeled his resolve and took the punishment enthusiastically. And so the word ‘Azad’ stuck, becoming an inseparable part of his name.

After the Non-Cooperation movement was suspended in 1922, a disheartened Azad began leaning towards more aggressive and revolutionary ideals. He became an active member of the HRA and came in contact with its founder Ram Prasad Bismil.

In fact, it was Bismil who gave the moniker ‘Quick Silver’ to Azad, in the honour of the revolutionary’s agility, restlessness and ever-present enthusiasm for new ideas.

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Interestingly, Azad was a master of disguises and would himself conduct recon operations to find out crucial details. For instance, he once needed to make Jhansi his operation ground for a few months without alerting the British. So he built a hut on the banks of the Satar River and started teaching local children under the alias of Pandit Harishankar Brahmachari!

Unsurprisingly, Azad quickly started playing a pivotal role in HRA’s most dangerous missions, including the Kakori Train Robbery of 1925 and the assassination of assistant superintendent of police John Saunders in 1928 to avenge the death of Lala Lajpat Roy.

Despite the British intensifying their search operations after these incidents, they were never able to catch the slippery revolutionary. The same year, Azad transformed the HRA into Hindustan Socialist Republican Association (HSRA) with the help of revolutionaries like Bhagwati Charan Vohra, Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev Thapar and Rajguru to achieve their primary aim of an independent India based on socialist principles.

But a tragedy was approaching, In 1931, the police had been tipped by an informant about a meeting between Azad and his friend Sukhdev Raj. On Febuary 27, they set up a cordon with a troop of 80 sepoys to surround the park and moved in to arrest the cornered revolutionaries.

But Azad and his friend refused to surrender and opened fire, taking refuge behind a tree.

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More than three dozen rifles battled against two pistols. Whenever the firing paused, the police would attempt to close in, only to be driven back by a hail of bullets. Soon, two policemen lay dead and several others had been injured.

By this time, Azad had also been shot in the right thigh. Undaunted, the injured revolutionary engaged the police in another fierce bout of firing that helped his friend escape. Knowing he could not escape, he decided to honour a vow he had made to himself — that the police would never be able to catch him alive.

And true to this, he fired at the police for as long as he could before shooting himself dead with the last bullet in his Colt pistol. He was only 24.

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To honour the incredible sacrifice of this legend, the sprawling Alfred Park in Allahabad has been renamed Chandra Shekhar Azad Park. A statue of Azad — muscular, bare-chested and twirling his moustache  — has also been installed near the tree where he died and visited by hundreds of people every day.

However, the most meaningful tribute we can pay to this hero is perhaps adopting the example he set – that of deep love and dedication towards one’s nation – in our own lives. For as Chandra Shekhar Azad himself said, “If yet your blood does not rage, then it is water that flows in your veins. For what is the flush of youth, if it is not of service to the motherland.”

Also Read: Shivaram Rajguru and Sukhdev Thapar — The Forgotten Men Who Shook Up The British Raj

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“Ask the right questions, and nature will open the doors to her secrets.” – Sir CV Raman

Groundbreaking discoveries in science are often accompanied by interesting stories that become the stuff of legends. For instance, the theory of buoyancy conjures up the image of an excited Archimedes jumping out of a bathtub exclaiming “Eureka’ while the discovery of gravity brings to mind the image of a thoughtful Newton sitting under a fruit-laden apple tree.

India’s National Science Day celebrates one such amazing story of scientific achievement — the discovery of the Raman Effect by Sir CV Raman.

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Born on November 7, 1888, in Tamil Nadu’s Tiruchirapalli to Chandrasekhar Iyer and Parvathi Ammal, Chandrasekhara Venkata Raman was a man of extraordinary ability. At 11, he finished his matriculation. At 15 years of age, he earned his BA degree as the class topper, winning gold medals for both English and Physics.

Furthermore, the gifted student was barely 17 when he received his M.A. degree in 1907, again at the head of his batch. In fact, his college professors used to allow him to skip science classes because they knew he didn’t need them!

However, what made him a genius in the truest of sense was that Raman wasn’t just a brilliant student, he was also intensely curious about the world around him. And it was this vibrant curiosity that led him to scientific discoveries of immense significance.

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In 1921, Raman was working as a professor at the University of Calcutta and had been sent as the university’s delegate to the International Universities Congress being held in London.

On his first foreign trip, he spent his time excitedly writing papers about the Whispering gallery in St. Paul’s cathedral and meeting scientific luminaries he had looked up to since his days as a student (JJ Thompson and John Rutherford).

It was while returning from England abroad a ship that Raman found himself facing a question that left him perplexed. “A glass of water does not have any colour of its own. But the same water in the deep sea appears a brilliant blue. Why is this so?”, he asked himself as he gazed out at the azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

Furthermore, the scientist remembered observing a pale blue opalescence in the icebergs and the large lakes he had seen during his sojourns through the northern latitudes.

On digging through his books, Raman found out that the prevailing explanation was that the sea looked blue because it reflected the colour of the sky. Unconvinced, he immediately began carrying out elementary experiments on board the ship using the simple instruments he had with him.

What he found was that the sea looks blue for pretty much the same reason the sky looks blue — the water was causing blue light to scatter more than other colours in the light. Excited by this realization, Raman wrote to Nature (a premier science journal) as soon as he arrived in India.

Interestingly, his dedication and enthusiasm can be glimpsed from the fact that his letter to Nature bears the address not of his home or laboratory, but of the harbour at which his ship had docked!

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In the years that followed, Raman remained preoccupied with the ‘scattering question’ (as he called it). Along with his students at Kolkata’s Indian Association for Cultivation of Science, he began conducting a series of simple but systematic experiments to observe how light behaved while passing through different types of substances.

It must be noted that India in the mid-1920’s was firmly in the clutches of British colonial rule, making it a place inimical for scientific research, especially by Indians. Undeterred by these hurdles, the tenacious scientist persevered and his hard work finally paid off when, on February 28, 1928, one of the experiments gave a startlingly clear result.

After his student KS Krishnan reported the observance of greenish glow in glycerine, Raman conducted further investigations to confirm the presence of “induced secondary radiation” — the light of only one colour was being passed through the liquid, but the light that was emerging had traces of another colour.

In simple language, this meant that the molecules in the liquid were changing the colour of some of the light passing through it. The discovery of this phenomenon (named the Raman Effect) created a sensation around the world and earned its Indian discoverer a litany of rare honours.

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In 1929, Raman was made a knight of the British Empire and honoured with the prestigious Hughes Medal by the Royal Society of London. And in 1930, he became the first Asian to be awarded a Nobel prize in any field of science.

Later, Raman would recall his experience at the Nobel Prize ceremony in the following words:

“When the Nobel award was announced, I saw it as a personal triumph, an achievement for me and my collaborators — a recognition for a very remarkable discovery, for reaching the goal I had pursued for seven years.

But when I sat in that crowded hall and I saw the sea of western faces surrounding me, and I, the only Indian, in my turban and closed coat, it dawned on me that I was really representing my people and my country. I felt truly humble when I received the Prize from King Gustav; it was a moment of great emotion but I could restrain myself.

Then I turned round and saw the British Union Jack under which I had been sitting and it was then that I realised that my poor country, India, did not even have a flag of her own – and it was this that triggered off my complete breakdown.”

Interestingly, during his speech at the banquet following the Nobel Prize ceremony, a visibly moved Raman made a reference to the congratulatory telegram he had received from his “dearest friend who is now in jail”. Much to the discomfort of the British Ambassador, this “friend” was none other than Mahatma Gandhi!

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Over time, the Raman Effect has proved to be immensely useful in multiple areas of science. The colours produced by a substance when light passes through it is almost like a fingerprint that can be used in chemistry, biology, medicine etc. to find out what a substance is made of.

In fact, this principle is used in the Raman Scanner, a device used by the police to find out if people are carrying illegal substances!

At a time when India is trying to instil a scientific temper and spirit of innovation in its students, it must be remembered that while not all of us can be as brilliant as Raman, we can definitely be just as curious about the world as he was. For as the legendary scientist once said,

“The true wealth of a nation lies not in its stored-up gold but in the intellectual and physical strength of its people.”

Also Read: What Connects Vivekananda and Jamsetji Tata? A Sea Voyage That Changed India!

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Charles Kuen Kao, a Shanghai-born scientist, was awarded one-half of the 2009 Nobel Prize in Physics for his trailblazing work in the field of fibre-optics communication.

“In 1966, Charles K. Kao made a discovery that led to a breakthrough in fibre optics. He carefully calculated how to transmit light over long distances via optical glass fibres. With a fibre of purest glass, it would be possible to transmit light signals over 100 kilometres, compared to only 20 meters for the fibres available in the 1960s,” says the citation to his 2009 Nobel Prize award.

This remarkable revelation laid the groundwork for high-speed broadband internet that allows unfathomable volumes of text, image and video data to be transmitted around the globe in an instant.

Turn back the clock nearly 12 years and it was an Indian scientist by the name of Narinder Singh Kapany who had demonstrated for the first time the transmission of images over a bundle of optic fibres.

India’s contribution to modern science is often overlooked by the rest of the world. Jagdish Chandra Bose, Satyendranath Bose, CV Raman, Homi Bhabha, Janaki Ammal, Meghnad Saha, and GN Ramachandran are among the many Indian luminaries who have played their role in spreading the gospel of modern science but haven’t received due credit.

How many of us are aware of Dr Narinder Singh Kapany, who is considered by many as the “Father of Fibre Optics”? It’s safe to say not many. However, it was his path-breaking research in the 1950s on fibre optics, which paved the way for high-speed broadband internet, laser surgeries and endoscopy, among others.

Born in 1927 to a Sikh family in Moga, Punjab, Kapany studied at Agra University. “When I first started work in technology, it was in India at an ordnance factory learning how to design and manufacture optical instruments. Then I came to the Imperial College in London (1952) primarily to learn about technology at the next level. After that I was supposed to go back to India and start my own company,” Kapany says in this interview.

In a 2003 book titled “Sand to Silicon: The Amazing Story of Digital Technology,” author Shivanand Kanavi details the contribution of Kao and Kapany in the field of fibre optics. Speaking to the author, Kapany talks about how he got interested in the field of optics.

“When I was a high school student at Dehradun in the beautiful foothills of the Himalayas, it occurred to me that light need not travel in a straight line, that it could be bent. I carried the idea to college,” Kapany said.

It was during his PhD at the Imperial College in 1954 when he first managed to transmit images over a bundle of optic fibres.

“However, when I went to London to study at the Imperial College and started working on my thesis, my advisor, Dr Hopkins, suggested that I try glass cylinders instead of prisms. So, I thought of a bundle of thin glass fibres, which could be bent easily. Initially, my primary interest was to use them in medical instruments for looking inside the human body. The broad potential of optic fibres did not dawn on me till 1955. It was then that I coined the term fibre optic,” Kapany tells Kanavi. Other sources, however, point out that he coined the term “fibre optics” in an article published for the famed Scientific American publication in 1960. Irrespective, this was all before Charles K Kao made any significant inroads.

Before he finished his course in the Imperial College, he received a scholarship from the Royal Society to pursue further research in fibre optics. “I worked for a year and a half on trying to make glass fibres and align them in a way to show that they can transmit light and images together,” says Kapany in an interview.

Recognising the nature of his work, Harold Hopkins, Kapany’s professor encouraged him to do a PhD in optics, but his heart was still set on coming back to India after completing his PhD in 1955 and setting up his own venture. In fact, India’s first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, a tremendous votary modern science, wanted Kapany to work for the Indian government as a Scientific Advisor to the Ministry of Defence.

However, a meeting with an American professor at a science conference in Italy (1954), where he presented the very first publication on fibre optics, altered the course of his life, and eventually, he joined the University of Rochester as a faculty member. “One year led to another which led to a job which immediately got me into entrepreneurship and instead of starting a company in India, I ended up starting my first company in this area in Palo Alto (Silicon Valley). Started in 1960, I took it public in 1967,” he adds.

When the Nobel Committee awarded the 2009 Prize to Kao, many in the scientific community were perplexed that Kapany was overlooked for the award. In fact, the Nobel Committee had even acknowledged Kapany’s work in a detailed publication. The man himself, however, wasn’t too perturbed by this oversight. Speaking to India Today in 1999, Kapany expressed his sentiments.

“What can you say about this. It is known that Prof Kao started work in this field many years after me. He faced competition too. I don’t think there should be any controversy about it. It is up to the Swedish Academy to decide. They have used whatever criteria they wanted to use.” he said.

His contributions, however, have been recognised by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), which acknowledges him as the inventor of fibre optics. Even the noted Fortune Magazine in 1999 listed him as one of the seven “unsung heroes” whose contributions radically changed the global business landscape. He went onto become a successful businessman, blazing his way through the tech revolution in Silicon Valley. Currently, in his 90s, he has over 100 patents to his name and runs a philanthropic organisation called the Sikh Foundation, which seeks to better relations between the Sikh community and others in the US.

Read also: How a Sea Journey By CV Raman Placed India On The Global Science Map

“In any discovery or invention, many people play a role, and it would be wrong to say only one person did all the work. However, some people play a crucial role and show the way for further research. In the case of fibre optics, Kapany played such a critical role. There were others who had realised that glass cylinders or fibres could be used to transmit light, but Kapany was more successful than anybody else in solving the problems involved and scientifically demonstrating the same,” Kanavi says in his book.

Despite Kapany’s work, the loss of signal over long distances via optical glass fibre was a recurring problem. What Kao did was work out how to fix this problem, and calculate how to transmit light over long distances. It was his work which led to the fabrication of the first ultrapure fibre in 1970. This was a game-changer in modern communication systems.

Having said that, many feel that Kapany should have shared the Nobel Prize with Kao, considering his pioneering work in the ’50s. However, the trailblazing Sikh doesn’t seem to mind.

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In a park in Meerut stands the beautiful statue of forgotten warrior queen astride a horse — Rani Avantibai of Ramgarh.

Among the grittiest women in Indian history, her unflagging courage and indomitable spirit are at par with the legendary Rani Laxmi Bai of Jhansi, Rani Rudramma Devi of Warangal and Rani Abbakka Chowta of Ullal. Yet, little is written about this valiant leader or her fight against the British during the revolt of 1857.

Here’s the untold tale of how Rani Avantibai etched her mark in the annals of history.

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Born in 1831, Avanti Bai was married to King Vikramaditya Lodhi of Ramgarh (today in Mandla district of Madhya Pradesh) at an early age. Fiercely independent as a young girl, she was well-trained in sword fighting, archery, cavalry, military strategy, diplomacy and all other subjects of statecraft.

This was why, when Vikramiditya fell into ill-health, it was Avanti Bai who rose to the occasion and took over the reins of Ramgarh’s administration. Even after the king’s death, the Lodhi kingdom continued to flourish under its queen’s able guidance.

However, the wily British refused to recognise Avanti Bai as the legitimate ruler of Ramgarh. The reason? Doctrine of Lapse.

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Introduced by Lord Dalhousie in 1848, the doctrine of lapse was an arbitrary annexation policy that allowed the East India Company to snatch away any Indian kingdoms whose ruler died without a direct heir.

In keeping with their land-grabbing intentions, in 1851, the British declared Ramgarh as a ‘Court of Wards’ and appointed their own administrator for the kingdom in place of Avanti Bai. Incensed at this unjust and insulting decision, the furious queen threw the administrator out and declared war against the British.

Avanti Bai’s next step was sending urgent emissaries to the rulers of neighboring kingdoms to join her in the war against British subjugation. In her strongly-worded letters (that were accompanied by a set of bangles), the feisty queen wrote:

“If you think you have a duty towards our enslaved motherland, raise your swords and jump into the war against the British. Otherwise wear these bangles and hide your self in houses.”

Unsurprisingly, Avanti Bai’s appeal succeeded in rousing a wave of revolution in the central provinces. By 1857, the entire region had joined the armed rebellion. Leading from the front, the fearless queen herself raised an army of 4,000 and personally led it against the British troops.

Her first battle took place in the village of Kheri. Avanti Bai’s masterful battle tactics ensured that the British troops were handed a stunning defeat.

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Expecting an easy victory, the stung British assembled their full force and launched a massive attack on Ramgarh, setting the citadel on fire. As such, the queen was forced to move with her family to the thickly forested hills of Devharigarh

However, Avanti Bai was not the one to give up without a fight. Using guerrilla warfare tactics, she attacked the camp of British General Waddington, plunging the camp into chaos. But unfortunately, her incredible fighting spirit was no match for the might of the British military machine in all its brutal strength.

Surrounded by British troops and facing the prospect of capture, Avanti Bai chose to sacrifice her life rather than to surrender to the enemy. On March 20, 1858, she killed herself with her own sword.

In the years that followed, Avanti Bai continued to live on in the folk culture of the region – even as her splendid story was slowly erased from history books.

The good news is that, in the recent years, her story has been gradually coming to public attention. The Rani Avanti Bai Lodhi Sagar dam in Jabalpur ( a multi-purpose hydro-electric project) has been named after her. The Department of Posts has also issued a stamp in her honour.

But surely we can do more!

Also Read: The Forgotten Story of Rani Tarabai, The Indomitable Warrior Queen of the Marathas

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Under the Central Government’s Act East policy, a great deal of emphasis has been laid on establishing the North East Region (NER) as a viable conduit for trade with Southeast Asia. The construction of the 1360-km long India-Myanmar-Thailand trilateral highway is one such example of how diplomacy is paving the way for the economic transformation of NER.

Geopolitical compulsions have robbed the region of any cultural and trade ties that many in the NER shared with their counterparts in Myanmar, China and Southeast Asia. This has left the NER in a state of isolation not only geographically, but also economically. With little industrialisation, ineffective state capacity, excessive dependence on the Central aid, corruption and insurgency-driven civil strife, the region has suffered.

Many commentators from the NER have argued that international trade provides an avenue for the region to break away from its geographical isolation, besides offering opportunities for much-needed investment.

One such potential trade route, which has remained inactive for more than seven decades is the little-known Stilwell Road—a strategically important 1,726 km road that connects India and China through Myanmar.

Starting from a Ledo, a small town in the Tinsukia district of Assam and home to the easternmost broad-gauge railway station in India, the road traverses through Changla district in Arunachal Pradesh.

From there the road cuts across the Pangsau Pass on the Indo-Myanmar border and heads into Patkai province in Myanmar. The road then crosses into China through the town of Wanting in Yunnan province and eventually finishes up in Kunming city. It (Stilwell Road) covers 61 km in India, 1033 km in Myanmar and 632 km in China.

“This road has the potential to break the landlocked status of NER. Goods from NER normally pass through the narrow Siliguri Corridor to Kolkata covering about 1600 km and then transhipped again through the Strait of Malacca to Southeast Asia and China. The present route takes nearly seven days for the landing of cargo, whereas the same consignment through Stilwell Road can land in Myanmar and China in less two days,” writes Jajati K Patnaik, a noted professor of Political Science.

Built out of necessity

Stilwell Road was constructed in the midst of World War II by the Americans. With the Japanese establishing a sea blockade to China in 1937, and Rangoon falling into their hands in 1942, the Allied Forces led by the United States wanted to construct a road that would act as an alternative supply route. Construction began in October 1942, and by late 1944 it was complete. Under the supervision of General Joseph Warren Stilwell, the road was built by 15,000 US troops, of which nearly two-thirds were African American, and 35,000 local workers, at the cost of US$ 150 million.

This was a remarkable feat of engineering, which also, unfortunately, resulted in the death of 1100 American soldiers and an equal number of local workers.

It was on February 11, 1945, when the Americans reached Kunming with a convoy of over 100 army vehicles, and in the process shattering the three-year land blockade the Japanese had set up. Soon after WW-II, however, the road lost its strategic importance. It was named Stilwell after the US general who supervised the construction process.

Barely any trade activity today

Since the end of World War-II, the road has remained inactive, and as a result of subsequent geopolitical events (Partition, Occupation of Tibet and the Indo-China War of ’62), mandarins in New Delhi saw little value in it.

There is barely any trade activity on this road, besides the barter of goods among people on either side of the Indo-Myanmar border at the Pangsau Pass. Every Friday, both sides celebrate Burma day when villagers are allowed to cross into India. They visit the local markets and buy necessary items, arriving on foot and motorbikes. On the 10th, 20th and 30th of every month, both sides celebrate India Day, when Indian tourists cross into Myanmar. These informal trade melas (fairs) are conducted under the strict supervision of the respective local administrations.

Despite the obvious advantages of reopening Stilwell Road for border trade, policy mandarins in New Delhi and security agencies have raised their objections.

There are fears that opening this route may fuel the already rampant problem of drug and human trafficking in the region. Security agencies also believe that this route could further facilitate the supply of arms and ammunition to insurgents in the Northeast, besides strengthening operational links between various militant groups.

Concerns have also emerged with the Chinese winning the contract to repair the stretch of road running through Myanmar. Those dealing in economic policy have also raised red flags about the potential of Chinese goods making further flooding the Indian market to the detriment of the local industry. Finally, the most significant political hot potato for governments in the NER is the spectre of illegal migration.

“China has shown interest in opening up the route, but India’s hesitation is also based on the fact that some part of it involves the contested territory of Arunachal Pradesh. Boundary talks between India and China about the status of Arunachal Pradesh have been going on for years now, with 19 rounds of talks completed in 2016,” writes Mirza Zulfiqur Rahman, Researcher in International Relations and Politics, Development Studies and Borders, IIT-Guwahati, for The Conversation.

Advantages to opening this road are great

In addition to Moreh in Manipur, which is set to become a vital economic hub in India’s trade with Southeast Asia after the completion of the India-Myanmar-Thailand trilateral highway, a similar case can be made for the township of Margherita near Ledo, from where Stilwell Road actually begins.

“Border trade between India and China flows through three border posts: Shipkilia Pass in Himachal Pradesh, Pittorgarh Pass in Uttarakhand, and Nathu-La in Sikkim. Stilwell can reduce transit time and transportation costs of Indo-China trade considerably. It is, indeed a goldmine of possibilities. Various studies conducted on the feasibility of reopening Stilwell Road highlighted that once the road is operational, it will reduce transportation cost between India and China by 30%. Unlike the Nathu-La Pass in Sikkim, the Stilwell Road is capable of handling approximately 25% of India-China bilateral trade,” writes C Joshua Thomas, Deputy Director at the Indian Council of Social Science Research, North Eastern Regional Centre (ICSSR), Shillong.

If this road goes operational, the NER will have direct access to markets in China, Myanmar and various Southeast Asian countries. As stated earlier, the one can reach Kunming in two days using this road. It will take two and a half days to reach Yangon, the capital city of Myanmar, while Bangkok will take four days and Singapore in five-six days.

In comparison to sea routes, this land route is projected to be shorter and cheaper for international trade. Policymakers in support of reopening this road also believe that this road will bring greater investment into the NER, which will offer it a way out of the current economic malaise. Lest we forget, the value of this road for the tourism industry in the NER will be immense, opening the region up to thousands of tourists every year.

Only if India and China get along

Any attempt at opening this road will only work if both Asian giants establish a workable framework for greater cross-border peace.

Read also: This Highway Running Through Three Countries Will Transform the Northeast

“The closure of Stilwell Road for the last 60 years has benefited none, not even to the cause of India’s security concern. Since road passes through three sovereign countries, the respective governments involved need to ponder over this issue. One should not forget that the reopening of Stilwell Road holds greater promise than perceived. As this road is the only surface link between India and China, a substantial bilateral trade can flow through it besides facilitating closer people-to-people contact. The road should not only be viewed as a trade route but also as a passage for cultural interactions between the two oldest civilisations in Asia,” writes C Joshua Thomas.

New Delhi should really consider this option.

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When India attained Independence on August 15, 1947, there were questions about what Free India should adopt as its national symbols. In many ways, Buddhism represented the aspirations and ethos of a New India. The Constituent Assembly had little hesitation in adopting India’s rich Buddhist heritage, and the symbols eventually chosen reflected it.

The Ashoka Chakra in the centre of the white section of the Indian flag is the Law of Dharma wheel – a Hindu and Buddhist symbol. The wheel denotes motion. The four-headed lion capital of the Buddhist Emperor Ashoka, representing the fearless proclamation of Dharma to the four quarters of the world, was adopted as the official seal of the Republic.

In line with Buddhism’s resonance on the new Republic, the Government of India decided that in 1956 it will sponsor and organise nationwide celebrations of the 2500th anniversary of the Buddha’s birth.

Taking a personal interest in arranging this special event, India’s first Prime Minister Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru felt that the country could use this occasion to project itself as a leading Asian power in the post-colonial era. Vice President Dr S Radhakrishnan was appointed the head of the organising committee. The government also chose to appoint Kushok Bakula Rinpoche, the noted Buddhist monk and Ladakhi statesman, as a member of the organising committee.

To the uninitiated, the 19th Bakula Rinpoche was both a revered Buddhist spiritual master and a statesman of immense stature from Ladakh. He was also singularly responsible for the revival of Buddhism in Mongolia during his 10-year stint as India’s ambassador to Mongolia. The airport in Leh is named after him. Read more about him here.

Soon after the organising committee held its first meeting on May 20, 1955, the Prime Minister’s Office sent a communique to Rinpoche. In it, the Government of India asked Rinpoche to coordinate with the then Government of Tibet (despite massive Chinse incursions into the region, Tibet still had its own government) based in Lhasa for the participation of HH the 14th Dalai Lama and the 10th Panchen Lama in the Buddha Jayanti celebrations, scheduled for the following year.

Rinpoche was asked to lead the Indian delegation to Tibet, where he would personally meet with Tibetan officials. On December 29, 1955, Rinpoche arrived in Lhasa, where he stayed for a couple of days at the residence of PN Menon, India’s then Consul General. There, he was apprised of the growing Chinese presence in the region, and other confidential matters.

In an interesting aside, on January 26, 1955, Rinpoche had the honour of unfurling the Indian national flag in the Consul General of India premises at Deki Ling during Republic Day celebrations. Four days later, on January 30, 1956, Rinpoche had a private audience with the Dalai Lama at the famed Potala Palace in Lhasa. During the meeting, Rinpoche informed him about the purpose of his visit and spoke at length about other matters. By then, the GoI had already extended official invitations to the Dalai Lama and Panchen Lama.

In May 1956, Buddha Jayanthi celebrations commenced in India and lasted the entire year. On May 24, 1956, India’s first President, Dr Rajendra Prasad announced that the ridge area of Delhi, a large and green-belt area in the capital, was henceforth to be known as the Buddha Jayanti Park. Besides, facilities for Buddhist pilgrims to visit holy sites like Sarnath, Bodh Gaya, Kushinagar and others, were set up in time for the celebrations.

In November, the Dalai Lama, who was only 21-years-old at the time, arrived at Palam Airport in New Delhi with a large entourage of Tibetan dignitaries.

At the airport, he was extended a welcome fit for a Head of State. The Indian government presented him with a guard of honour. Prime Minister Nehru and Vice President Radhakrishnan personally received him at the airport. While the Dalai Lama resided at Hyderabad House. Assigned with the task of accompanying both the Dalai Lama and Panchen Lama, Rinpoche travelled with them.

Little did the Dalai Lama know that three years later he would undertake a miraculous escape into India after the Chinese army occupied Tibet.

The religious significance of this visit was not lost on anyone. However, there was another element to it. “This visit by the 14th Dalai Lama provided an opportunity to undertake direct diplomatic exchanges with Government of India in particular, Jawaharlal Nehru, concerning the unfolding occupation of the Kham and Amdo regions of Tibet by the Chinese army (PLA).

Departing Lhasa at the end of November with a small entourage that included the Panchen Lama and his older brother, Lobsang Samten, they travelled to Gangtok in Sikkim and later to New Delhi, alongside the Maharaj Kumar of Sikkim, Palden Thondup Namgyal, who was then president of the Maha Bodhi Society,” writes historian David Geary in his book titled “The Rebirth of Bodh Gaya: Buddhism and the Making of a World Heritage Site,” where he examines the modern revival of Buddhism in India.

Along with a massive entourage of devotees from Tibet, the Dalai Lama also performed his first major “public religious act” on Indian soil by going on a pilgrimage to some of the holiest Buddhist sites, where he offered teachings, including one in Bodh Gaya on December 27.

“On this special occasion, thousands of people thronged the seven-mile route from Gaya to Bodh Gaya as the entourage drove through numerous welcome arches that had been erected in honour of their visit. Upon reaching the temple, with an international reception of Buddhist monks and visitors, the Dalai Lama and Panchen Lama presented sets of Tibetan Buddhist Scriptures to the temple management committee along with a gold lamp to be used in daily worship,” writes David Geary.

Even the Dalai Lama couldn’t contain his excitement about his visit to India. In his famous autobiography titled “Freedom in Exile,” he makes a special note of his thoughts before this visit.

“I was ecstatic. For us Tibetans, India is Aryabhumi, the Land of the Holy. All my life I had longed to make a pilgrimage there: it was the place that I most wanted to visit,” he wrote. “I finally left Lhasa full of joy at the prospect of being able to move about freely without the constant supervision of some Chinese official or other.”

This visit to Bodh Gaya, although the first, wouldn’t be his last. The significance of this visit was not lost on the Dalai Lama. He was acutely aware of how powerfully his visit to the land where Buddhism was born would resonate in India, Tibet, and of course, China. “These earlier instances of pilgrimage marked the beginning of a new ritual relationship with the Buddhist holy land and its increasing deterritorialized Tibetan community,” adds Geary.

“[While travelling in India] I reflected on how different India felt from China. I had been there for no time at all, but already I was aware of an immense gulf between the way of life of the two countries. Somehow, India seemed so much more open and at ease with herself,” the Dalai Lama writes.

The Dalai Lama often refers to himself as a “Son of India”, and his writings reflect how that sentiment began to permeate his mind even before his escape to India in 1959. “I was able to give myself wholly to deep feelings of joy and veneration as I journeyed across the country from Sanchi to Ajanta, then to Bodh Gaya and Sarnath. I felt that I had returned to my spiritual home,” he writes of his 1956 visit to India.

It’s been nearly 60 years since the Dalai Lama escaped from China, and it’s safe to say that India has been honoured to host this most venerable spiritual leader, despite recent developments.

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“A Princess in her nation’s service, she has gone among the poor and the weak, the mothers and the children, the sick and the starving.” – A citation by Princeton University honouring Amrit Kaur (1956)

For years, the All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS) has been serving rich and poor with the best that medical science has to offer. It is a place where people unable to afford treatment at private hospitals come with the hope that the distinguished institution will end their suffering and miseries.

Yet few Indians know the story of the incredible woman who laid the foundation of AIIMS – Amrit Kaur.

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Not only did she help set up India’s premier public institution for healthcare, Kaur was also India’s first health minister, the first Asian woman to head the governing body of the World Health Organisation and, for more than 30 years, one of India’s great champions of women’s rights. Here’s her forgotten story.

Born on February 2, 1889, to Raja Harnam Singh (the younger brother of the prince of Kapurthala), Kaur grew up in Lucknow. It was from here that her father managed the vast Awadh estates of the royal family.

The only girl among seven children, Kaur was schooled at one of the foremost institutions of England, the Sherborne School for Girls in Dorset. Good in academics, the avid sports enthusiast was also the captain of the school’s hockey, lacrosse and cricket team.

After her schooling, Kaur joined Oxford to complete her college education. As such, the young princess was as much a product of Edwardian England as she was of India when she returned home in 1918 after completing her studies.

Kaur’s return to India also marked the beginning of an era of nationalist struggle that would go on to transform her life.

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The repressive Rowlatt Act was met by widespread anger and discontent among the people of Punjab, with Amritsar erupting into violent riots between civilians and British troops. This was followed by the imposition of martial law and the horrendous Jallainwala Bagh massacre of April 1919, leading to vehement anti-colonial protests that spread like wildfire.

The same year, Kaur was introduced to Gopal Krishna Gokhale, a close friend of her father and an influential member of the Indian National Congress. The social reformer was also the founder of Servants of India Society, an organisation that worked to serve the underprivileged.

Deeply influenced by Gokhale’s dedication towards his country and its people, the young princess of Kapurthala joined the nationalist movement, seamlessly making the transition to a dedicated social activist and freedom fighter. In fact, she would later say,

“The flames of my passionate desire to see India free from foreign domination were fanned by him.”

Interestingly, it was through Gokhale that Kaur learnt about Gandhi. Drawn to his vision for India, she wrote to him with the hope of joining the work being done at his ashram.

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However, she was unable to do so immediately due to the ill-health of her parents and continued to work from her home in Kapurthala, especially for the welfare of downtrodden women.

In 1926, Kaur founded the All India Women’s Conference, a first-of-its-kind organisation that worked for the rights of women. Under its aegis, she focused on a wide range of political and social issues, such as the abolition of purdah, child marriage and the Devadasi system.

In fact, it was her resolute and relentless campaigning that forced the government to increase the marriageable age of girls to 14 and then to 18.

1930, shortly after the death of her parents, Kaur finally left the Kapurthala Palace to plunge deeper into the freedom struggle. Joining the civil disobedience movement sweeping the country, she participated in the Dandi March, organised by Mahatma Gandhi to protest the salt tax imposed by the British.

Impressed by her dedication, in October 1936, Gandhi wrote to her, saying, “I am now in search of a woman who would realise her mission. Are you that woman, will you be one?” And so, Kaur became Gandhi’s private secretary, a post she held until Prime Minister Nehru of­fered her the portfolio of health in his first government.

In the years that followed, Kaur remained extremely active in the nationalist movement for Indian independence.

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She didn’t shy away from participating in dharnas and protests despite being injured, multiple times, during brutal lathi charges by the police. She even spent time in jail after being arrested by the British for her leadership of the protests.

A vociferous advocate of a universal adult franchise, Kaur worked tirelessly to ensure extensive political participation of women in the nationalist movement.

“Rajkumari was such an ardent believer in women’s role in public life that she did not even hesitate to criticise Pandit Nehru on this issue,” wrote Aruna Asaf Ali, referring to the time when Nehru had composed INC’s working committee without including a single woman.

A firm believer in the participation of women in education and sports (she would often negotiate with Gandhi for an hour of spinning in exchange for an hour of tennis!), Kaur also served as the chairperson for All India Women’s Education Fund Association. In 1945, she also served as India’s official delegate to UNESCO conferences in London.

Elected to the Constituent Assembly from the United Provinces, Kaur was also one of the few female members who were in favour of a uniform civil code.

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In a letter to BN Rau (dater march 31, 1947), she also made a plea for eliminating discrepancies in religious customs (such as polygamy, unequal laws of inheritance and dedication of girls to temples) that were inimical to women’s equality.

After India finally got its hard-won independence in 1947, Kaur became the first woman to hold a cabinet position in India. As the country’s first health minister, she set up the Tuberculosis Association of India, the Indian Council of Child Wel­fare,  the Central Leprosy and Research Institute and the Rajkumari Amrit Kaur College of Nursing.

However, she is best known as the visionary to whom AIIMS owes its existence.

In 1950, Kaur was elected the president of the World Health As­sembly (which governs the WHO) — she was the first woman and the first Asian to hold the prestigious post. Seven years later, she secured aid from New Zealand, Australia, Sweden, West Germany and USA to establish AIIMS.

Furthermore, she donated her ancestral mansion in Shimla (called Manorville) to AIIMS as a holiday retreat and a rest home for its nurses!

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Furthermore, Kaur made sure that AIIMS retained its autonomy and served as a nucleus for nurturing Indian excellence in all aspect of health care, from surgical care to medical education. She also ensured that the selection of students for admission would be done strictly on merit i.e through an open competitive test that gave equal opportunities to students from every part of the country.

Kaur also remembered for her dedicated campaign against malaria, a disease that, at one time, took an estimated total of one mil­lion lives a year in India. At the height of this particular campaign, in 1955, it was estimated that the mitigation of malaria in rural districts had save nearly 400,000 Indians who would otherwise have died.

Interestingly, few know that Kaur was also instrumental in setting up the National Institute of Sports in Patiala.

In 1961, on the occasion of its 150th celebrations, USA’s Massachusetts General Hospital placed AIIMS on its list of the world’s most distinguished hospitals. Three years later, on February 6. 1964, Kaur passed away peacefully at the age of 75. The always graceful and simple lady had never married and left behind no children.

As much at ease representing India on the global stage as at Gandhi’s humble ashram taking copious notes, Amrit Kaur holds an irreplaceable position among independent India’s pioneering powerhouses on whose elegant shoulders we now stand. Its time we gave her the respect and recognition she deserves.

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Has India done an adequate job of remembering the valiant actions of its soldiers? One can point towards memorials built for Indian soldiers killed in defence of the 70-year-old Republic and other public honours bestowed upon them to make a case that India indeed remembers.

The decrepit state of a World War I (WW1) commemorative arch erected in Valady village in Tiruchirappalli (Trichy) district, Tamil Nadu, for 302 soldiers from the nearby areas, may suggest otherwise.

Post-Independence, the Indian armed forces have not only maintained the nation’s sovereignty but also honoured the core ideals of democracy. As this article suggests, a lot of credit for the latter achievement also goes to the nation’s founding fathers. Admittedly, there are instances where this institution has failed to live up to these ideals, but for the most part, their record deserves credit.

Thus, their sacrifices in the line of duty are duly remembered by one and sundry. When the question comes to Indian soldiers who participated in the two biggest wars of the 20th century, the nation’s collective memory has often proven to be fickle.

The lack of any Indian-built memorial of note for the soldiers killed in action during World War I and II bears testimony to this fact. In Delhi, the British erected the famous India Gate for those Indians who died in the First World War (WW1).

Unlike Australia, why haven’t we honoured the 1.3 million India soldiers who fought valiantly in WW1?

When its 50th anniversary had come around in 1964, New Delhi wasn’t comfortable with the idea of honouring Indian soldiers who had volunteered to fight for the very colonial empire that India broke away from.

Decades later, things have taken a different turn. “For many Indians, curiosity has overcome the fading colonial-era resentments of British exploitation. We are beginning to see the soldiers of World War One as human beings, who took the spirit of their country to battlefields abroad,” writes Member of Parliament Shashi Tharoor for the BBC.

In fact, the Centre for Armed Forces Historical Research in Delhi is on a mission to remember the oft-ignored story of the 1.3 million Indian soldiers who fought in places and against enemies far removed from their everyday realities and under incredibly tough conditions for little more than professional pride.

Days after the war was declared, Indian soldiers were on the frontline repelling the Prussian advance at Ypres in 1914 even before the British had their own troops ready. As a consequence of Winston Churchill’s error in judgement, nearly 1,000 Indian soldiers were slain on the shores of Gallipoli in Turkey. More than 600,000 Indian jawans fought in the Mesopotamia against the Ottoman Empire.

“The British raised men and money from India, as well as large supplies of food, cash and ammunition, collected both by British taxation of Indians and from the nominally autonomous princely states. In return, the British had insincerely promised to deliver progressive self-rule to India at the end of the war. Perhaps, had they kept that pledge, the sacrifices of India’s soldiers might have been seen in their homeland as a contribution to India’s freedom,” Tharoor adds.

In fact, many of India’s prominent freedom fighters had supported the British war effort in WW1, thanks to the above-stated promise. Is it prudent to castigate them now for the position they took? Not necessarily, one would argue.

Read also: 28 Rare and Amazing Photos of Indian Soldiers from World War I

Commemorative arch in Trichy district

The 95-year-old arch in Valady village, which is lying in ruins, has the words “Lest We Forget” written on its peak. Considering the state in which it’s languishing in, one can’t help but feel a palpable sense of irony.

With parts of it hidden from public view as a result overgrown trees, this arch was erected by Dewan Bahadur G. Krishnamachariar and opened by Sir T. Desikachariar, Trichinopoly District Board president, on August 10, 1922.

Three years earlier, a Great War Memorial Plaque was installed inside a Clock Tower in the present-day Gandhi Market in Trichy.This structure was erected in memory of the 41 soldiers from the city who died in action during World War I.

“In commemoration of the glorious victory of the Allied Arms in which the Indian troops played a prominent part,” reads the inscription on of the pillars supporting the decrepit arch. Despite its historical value, there has been little to no effort in conserving this structure. Local authorities recently claimed that they have no funds to restore or preserve this arch. While municipal authorities worked to restore the Clock Tower in Gandhi Market in 2013, the arch remains ignored.

Serving as a gateway for local folk from nearby villages to access the Lalgudi-Trichy main road, hundreds cross this arch every day without even taking cognisance of its value. “Most of the villagers crossing the arch every day are unaware of its historical importance. Only those who have served and are serving the army know that it commemorates the role of Indian soldiers in World War I including from Tamil Nadu,” M Mookan, an ex-serviceman from Valady, told the Times of India.

As on user on Reddit quipped, “these are exactly the kinds of monuments that should be cleaned and renewed. India should remember the sacrifice its people made for the world we live in.”

Not just their sacrifices, but the spirit of bravery and compassion with which they fought these battles. Reading Tharoor’s take on commemorating Indian soldiers who fought in World War I, one comes across a heart-warming 1918 photograph of an Indian soldier on horseback giving away his rations to a poor starving girl in Mesopotamia

As the Member of Parliament quips, “it embodies the ethos the Indian solider brings to soldiering, whether at home or abroad.”

He harks back to the role they have played in UN peacekeeping missions around the world to further embellish this point.

Symbols are powerful things, and the sight of this commemorative arch being encroached upon by a shop and bricks sends a rather poor message. These are precisely the reasons why restoring and conserving the commemorative arch seems like the right thing to do.

(Edited by Vinayak Hegde)

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Tansen is a complex enigma in Indian history. The tales of greatness that surround his person include incredible anecdotes of elephants that were tamed by his music, rains that poured when he sang in raga Megh Malhar, and extinguished lamps that were lit by his rendition of raga Deepak. To top it all off, they claim he could produce any sound, from a lion’s roar to a bird’s chirp!

In fact, it is difficult to confirm which part of his life was fact, and which was a fairytale.

Nevertheless, to many gharanas, or schools, of Hindustani music, Tansen is widely regarded as the one who started it all.

Some reports claim that Tansen was born with the name Ramtanu, to a prominent poet and musician, called Mukund Pandey. He showed an extraordinary prowess for music as early as the age of 6 and was taken to Swami Haridas, an accomplished musician, to learn the art. It is rumoured that his education in the arts took place in Gwalior.

Other stories claim that Tansen was born deaf and dumb, and it was only after he was blessed by a saint that he gained hearing and speech.

You may also like: Asha Bhosle at 84: Little Known Facts About the Life of a Legend

Either way, popular sources agree that he spent much of his life as the court musician of Raja Ramchandra Singh. Here, he flourished, and his talent earned him the recognition of Mughal emperor, Akbar himself.

Tansen, who at the time was close to 60 years of age, considered retiring to a life of solitude, but at the encouragement of the Raja, was sent to Akbar’s court. The emperor bestowed upon him the title “Mian,”, meaning “learned one,” and he became one of Akbar’s Navratnas. You can read more about the Navratnas of Akbar’s court here.

His compositions are believed to have formed the foundation for Hindustani classical music.

His ragas brought forth melodies that are still sung today, and his legacy continues through his music.

Here are five ragas that are believed to be associated with the legend that is Mian Tansen. This is by no means an extensive list, but all these ragas hold a significant place in the myths that surround Tansen.

1. Miyan ki Malhar

Perhaps the most famous story which surrounds Tansen is that when he sang Megh Malhar, the skies would pour with rain. His alleged wife, Husseini, is believed to have sung this raga as an attempt to save her husband as he was being engulfed in flames. His own version of the Malhar raga is known as Miyan ki Malhar. You can hear a modern version of Miyan ki Malhar below.

2. Deepak

The tale goes thus. Akbar, who was enamoured by Tansen’s musical prowess, requested that he sing Deepak, the raga of fire. Knowing what would happen, he requested that all the lamps be extinguished. As he broke into song, the lamps lit on their own and engulfed him in flames. While he did not create this raga, it is said that his rendition had a special power.

3. Miyan ki Todi

A gentle raga, the Todi scale was reinvented by Tansen himself, leading to the name Miyan ki Todi. This rendition by the late Kishori Amonkar encapsulates the beauty of this Tansen creation.

4. Miyan ki Sarang

A raga which is part of the Sarang family, Miyan ki Sarang is generally sung in the late afternoon. You can enjoy an excerpt of this raga below, sung by Pandit Sharad Sathe.

5. Darbari Kannada

A complex raga, which is difficult to master, Darbari Kannada is best sung towards the evening. Its grave, contemplative undertones make for a mesmerising melody. The name “Darbari” itself is said to have been derived from Tansen’s time in court. Below is a version of the raga, as sung by Pandit Jasraj.

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The year was 1946. On the wintry day of December 19, India’s newly formed Constituent Assembly was in session, debating and drafting a constitution for the soon-to-be independent nation.

The clock had just ticked past noon when an extraordinary Indian woman began her much-awaited address,

“Mr Chairman, before I express my views on the Resolution, let me pay my humble homage to our revolutionary father, Mahatma Gandhi. It is his mystic vision, his political idealism and his social passion that gave us the instruments to achieve our goal.”

The woman was Dakshayani Velayudhan, the first and only Dalit woman in the Constituent Assembly. The youngest participant of this august congregation, she was one of 15 women members who etched their mark on the making of the Indian republic.

Despite her contributions in the framing of the Indian constitution — an experiment that would go on to determine the country’s ability to govern itself —, Dakshayani’s story has been unintentionally been dwarfed for years by the larger national personalities of her time.

Its is time we acknowledged her path-breaking role in helping India transform into a modern and politically balanced nation state.

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Born in July 4, 1912 in Mulavukad (a tiny island off the coast of Kochi), Dakshayani was a member of the downtrodden Pulaya community. Believed to be among the earliest inhabitants of Kerala, in pre-Independence India, the Pulayas were nevertheless considered untouchables and subject to acute discrimination by the upper castes in the princely states of Travancore and Cochin.

According to a 1934 report by KP Karuppan, who fought for their rights, the men and women of the Pulaya community could not wear clothes to cover their upper torso or cut their hair.  They were not allowed access to public roads, public wells, markets, government schools and even hospitals.

In fact, the vicious codes of discrimination prevalent back then dictated that a Pulaya had to keep 64 paces from superior castes and make their presence felt by uttering a particular cry at every four or five paces.

As such, Dakshayani’s early life was shaped by the rigid caste system in Kerala of the early 20th century. During her childhood, she witnessed movements against this virulent casteism that had already been started before her birth by two of Kerala’s biggest reformers, Sree Narayana Guru and Ayyankali.

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One of these civil disobedience movements was also founded by Dakshayani’s uncle, Kallachamuri Krishnaadi Asan, along with Pandit Karuppan and TK Krishna Menon in 1913. Her brother, KP Vallon, was also a key member of the organisation (called the Pulaya Mahajana Sabha) that defied restriction of movement for the depressed classes.

Interestingly, the organisation found an ingenious way to defy the king’s order that proclaimed that no Dalit group could have a meeting in his land — they held their meeting on a row of catamarans anchored to an iron pole in the middle of the Vembanad lake. By conducting the meeting on water, the group sent out a message of protest without actually disobeying the royal proclamation!

Interestingly, it was this historic Kayal Sammelanam (Meeting on the Backwaters) that later formed the basis for the name of Dakshayani’s memoirs, “The Sea Has No Caste”.

Dakshayani’s mother, Maani, too was very progressive and a great inspiration for her daughter. Growing up witnessing such radical social change, that too into a family that spearheaded many of these changes, the young girl was a part of a series of firsts for her community.

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Dakshayani was one of the first girls in her Pulaya community to wear a dress and receive education at a government school. (By then, the roads and schools had opened to the depressed classes, but the prejudice was still very strong).

After finishing her schooling, Dakshayani went on to earn a bachelor’s degree in chemistry from Maharaja’s College in Ernakulam — the only girl in the class. Later she would recall how she would have watch lab experiments from afar as an upper caste professor refused to let her touch the equipment.

Not the one to give up in the face adversity, the determined girl didn’t let such blatant discrimination stop her. Graduating with good marks in 1935, she then went on to get a teacher’s training course from Madras University, following which she was posted in a government school in Thrissur. She was the first Dalit woman in the state to earn a degree.

All this while, she continued to participate in movements that called for abolition of caste slavery, equality for all and the democratization of public spaces. This defiance, grit and steely strength would mark much of her life.

In 1940, Dakshayani married Dalit leader Raman Kelan Velayudhan at Mahatma Gandhi’s Wardha ashram, Sevagram. The ceremony was officiated by a leper and attended by both Gandhi and his wife Kasturba. Interestingly, Velayudhan was the uncle of a man who would go on to become India’s first Dalit president — KR Narayanan.

Two years later, she was nominated to Cochin Legislative Council seat and in 1945, she spoke gave her first speech in the council, slamming untouchability as inhuman.

In 1946, Dakshayani became the first and the only Dalit woman in India’s Constituent Assembly.  She was just 34.

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A firebrand speaker, Dakshayani’s tenure at the constituent assembly was defined by two objectives. The first was to go beyond framing a document and offer the people of India “a new framework of life”. The second was to use the opportunity to make untouchability illegal and punishable by law.

An unwavering supporter of a strong, common national identity for all residents of an independent India, she did not support separate electorates or reservations. Her main goal was creating an India free of caste or community barriers.

In an impassioned speech delivered in August 1947, Dakshayani said:

“As long as the Scheduled Castes, or the Harijans or by whatever name they may be called, are economic slaves of other people, there is no meaning demanding either separate electorates or joint electorates or any other kind of electorates with this kind of percentage. Personally speaking, I am not in favour of any kind of reservation in any place whatsoever.”

Despite being a staunch follower of both Gandhi and Ambedkar, Dakshayani never shied away from challenged them both on the strength of her own convictions. For instance, she spoke against excessive centralisation of power in the Constitution and argued for greater decentralisation.

In the years that followed her time as a member of the Constituent Assembly and the provisional parliament, Dakshayani gradually moved away from active electoral politics and devoted the rest of her life to working for the upliftment of underprivileged people.

An incredibly courageous woman who smashed the caste barrier to smithereens, Dakshayani Velayudhan played a pioneering role in charting the course of independent India. She also showed, not just the Dalit community but the entire nation, the importance of standing one’s ground and holding our head high, no matter what the odds were.

Also Read: The Princess Who Built AIIMS – Remembering India’s First Health Minister, Amrit Kaur

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Born on September 17, 1879, in the city of Erode, Tamil Nadu, Erode Venkata Ramasamy Naicker, popularly known by his followers as Periyar (‘elder or wise one’) or Thanthai Periyar, was a radical social reformer.

Popularly known for extensively speaking out and fighting against the evils of caste discrimination with his famous Self Respect Movement, he also espoused rationalism and women’s rights—ideas that were way ahead of their times.

In a public life spanning over 70 years, it is nearly impossible to encapsulate in a few hundred words why Periyar is still held in such high regard, especially among the Tamils.

His pilgrimage to the holy Hindu town of Kashi in 1904 to visit the Shiva temple of Kashi Vishwanath is a good place to start. His experiences during this pilgrimage profoundly shaped his politics.

His disgust at the sight of prostitution, cheating, looting, floating dead bodies and rampant begging on the streets of Kashi conflicted with the romantic notions that many had held of this holy town.

There was one particular incident, however, which scarred him for life.

At the choultries (resting places) adjoining the temple, free food was on offer to Brahmin pilgrims. When Ramasamy stood in line to partake of these meals, he was refused because of his caste.

One day, out of desperate hunger, he decided to go in disguised as a Brahmin, wearing the sacred thread. Unfortunately, his moustache gave away his identity since temple authorities believed that holy texts did not permit Brahmins to have moustaches. He was denied food and pushed out into the streets.

Afflicted by unbearable pangs of hunger, Ramasamy had no choice but to eat the leftovers thrown into the streets. He realised, in shock, that the choultry which had refused him entry was built by a wealthy non-Brahmin merchant from Tamil Nadu!

“Why and how can Brahmins obstruct Dravidians from taking meals in the choultry, although the choultry was built with the money of a Dravidian philanthropist? Why have Brahmins behaved so mercilessly and fanatically as to push the communities of the Dravidian race even to starvation – death by adamantly enforcing their evil casteism,” asked Ramasamy.

On his return to Erode, Ramasamy took over his father’s business. When a deadly plague broke out in Erode in 1904, which claimed the lives of hundreds, he refused to leave unlike other local merchants and instead devoted his time to carry the dead for their last rites.

In the following decade, his business grew, besides acquiring many positions in public institutions.

All that changed in 1919, when he joined the Indian National Congress, where he extensively participated in the Non-Cooperation Movement. He was even arrested twice for his troubles. In April 1924, he earned greater acclaim for leading a successful agitation for the right of the lower castes to walk on roads near a Shiva temple in the holy town of Vaikom in present-day Kerala, despite strong opposition from the local priestly class and the Travancore royalty.

“In fact, the real public opinion in favour of the temple entry was created only by the Dravidian movement. The temple entry agitations were actually conducted by the followers of Thanthai Periyar from the 1920s. The Vaikom agitation under his leadership was not launched originally for the temple entry of untouchables. It was to give the oppressed the rights to approach and access the streets adjoining Sri Mahadevar temple at Vaikom,” writes K Veeramani, a social worker who worked closely with Ramsamy, in a blog for the Times of India.

In the following year, he left the Congress citing that it wasn’t doing enough to address the evils of caste discrimination within the party. In fact, this is something even BR Ambedkar had alluded to many times during his long-standing struggle for the emancipation of the Dalit community. Nonetheless, the Vaikom episode enhanced his position in the public eye.

In the following year, Ramasamy joined the historical Self Respect Movement started by another social reformer S Ramanathan. What Ramasamy did was propel the movement to new heights.

It espoused a vision of a society where so-called backward castes enjoyed equal rights while encouraging its members to attain self-respect despite the prevalence of a caste-hierarchy that did oppress them. Imbued with the spirit of rationalism and atheism, it wasn’t necessarily a movement against Brahmins, but the system of Brahminism. However, there are those who vehemently oppose this narrative.

What the movement sought was to end the scourge of pernicious superstitions, rituals, customs and traditions that perpetuated the dynamic of caste-based subjugation. “When others of his day loved to chant of political freedom, spiritual upliftment and other ‘bigger’ things of life, Periyar was down to earth enough to see that his people needed first and foremost their dignity to be salvaged and their self-respect to be restored. That was Periyar’s diagnosis of the society,” writes K Veermani.

“Self-respecters performed marriages without Brahmin priests (purohits) and without religious rites. They insisted on equality between men and women in all walks of life. They encouraged inter-caste and widow marriages [besides advocating property rights for women]. Periyar propagated the need for birth-control even from the late 1920s. He gathered support for lawful abolition of Devadasi (temple prostitute) system and the practice of child marriage. It was mainly due to his consistent and energetic propaganda, the policy of reservations in job opportunities in government administration was put into practice in the then Madras Province in 1928,” says this note in Counter Currents.

The Self Respect Movement had a tremendous influence on the future course of Tamil politics, deeply influencing the likes of CN Annadurai, MG Ramachandran, M Karunanidhi, and the two key political parties they started—the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) and All-India Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK). When the DMK government under CN Annadurai came to power in 1967 on back of the anti-Hindi agitation, it passed legislation legalising these ‘self-respect marriages’ much to the chagrin of many upper castes.

Read also: CN Annadurai: How a Schoolteacher Became Tamil Nadu’s First Political Stalwart

In the late 1930s, Periyar joined the Justice Party, which stood in opposition to the Congress in the Madras provincial elections. When the British conducted provincial elections in 1937, the Congress won, and C Rajagopalachari took charge. This began another critical chapter in the life of Ramasamy, who according to Ramachandra Guha in his book “Makers of Modern India”, “was increasingly known as Periyar”.

As soon as it took office, the Congress-led provincial government in the Madras Presidency, introduced compulsory Hindi instruction in schools.

This was a step, which would resonate with greater force in the violent anti-Hindi agitations of the 1960s. As the new president of the Justice Party in 1938, Periyar and members of the Self Respect Movement led protests to restore Tamil in schools. What brought greater political force to this demand was that these protests attracted even those opposed to Self-Respect Movement because of its emphasis on atheism. The provincial government soon had to withdraw this law.

During this time, Periyar’s politics began to shift significantly, and this is where we see his legacy on Tamil Nadu politics taking shape. “As Indian independence approached, Periyar grew apprehensive about the treatment of Dravidian people, a linguistic group including the Tamils, and he founded the Dravidar Kazhagam (Dravidian Organization) in 1944,” writes Ryan Shaffer, an American historian.

This split from the Janata Party also marked a definitive shift away from electoral politics for Periyar, while he further immersed himself in social reform. Unfortunately, his protégé CN Annadurai split ranks after a series of differences, especially over the question of participation in electoral politics.

Anna went onto establish the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) party. Despite breaking away from Periyar, Anna remained close to his ideals. Although the initial years saw the DMK following in the footsteps of Periyar, things began to change with the evolution of national politics and more pertinently, the Indo-China war of 1962, by which time Anna dropped his demand for secession from North India—an idea Periyar continued to advocate post-Independence. It’s hard to deny Periyar’s imprint on the historical anti-Hindi agitations of the 1960s.

Post-Independence he continued on his path of social reform—speaking out against the caste system, emphasising on the importance of Tamil while stressing the need to establish English as the national language instead of Hindi, and of course spreading the word of rationalism and atheism.

When arrested in 1953 on charges of blasphemy, he said, “an atheist is not rejecting the sayings or commandments of God, but the sayings and commandments that men made in the name of God.”

He passed away on December 24, 1973, and received a state funeral. Like any self-thinking maverick, Periyar’s legacy is complicated.

Supporters see Periyar as the apostle of social equality and rationalism. His critics, of which there are many, believe he did little to change attitudes against the caste system, and just partook in anti-Brahmin, anti-Hindu baiting.

However, one cannot deny the influence that Periyar had on not just Tamil politics for the next five decades, but also on progressive public discourse on women’s rights, rationalism, and the caste system. His writings on the subjects are both brilliant and relevant to this day.

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Nagamani Kulkarni wore many hats.

While she was without the speck of a doubt a doting daughter, wife, mother and grandmother, this woman was also an accomplished scientist, chemistry professor, tennis player, artist, quilter, painter, cook, embroidery expert and perhaps one of the best great-grandmothers.

Born to doctor Shama Rao and his wife Thangamma on January 11, 1916, in Bengaluru, Nagamani was perhaps one of the first women from the city to receive a PhD in physical chemistry as early as 1943 during the British Raj.

The first Indian woman to get a PhD in a scientific discipline in 1939 was Kamala Sohonie. Read about her here.

Nagamani was only eight when she lost her father, Dr Shama Rao, a doctor in the British Army, to the side effects of mustard gas during World War I in Mesopotamia (modern day Iraq). He was one of the first Bengalureans to have served as a Captain in the British Army during the World War I.

But that did not deter the young girl or her mother from continuing her education.

She was a math wizard and a gifted painter who stood out in Vani Vilas High School in Bengaluru. She continued her education at the Central College in Bengaluru before joining the prestigious Indian Institute of Science’s department of inorganic and physical chemistry.

Even as she was a top student, completing her MSc and later PhD at IISc, Nagamani continued to make her mark as a tennis champion and bridge player.

IISc scientist Sharath Ahuja writes in his tribute to her, that despite being a woman of many talents, Nagamani was told by her family to keep her achievements a secret, so that the chances of finding a suitable bridegroom would remain high.

But Nagamani, being the level-headed woman she was, refused to be at the mercy of fate or change her personality to find a husband.

It wasn’t long until the scientist met a fellow student, Bapu S Kulkarni, who was completing his PhD at IISc, fell in love and got married.

After the two received their PhDs, they moved to Hyderabad in 1944. Despite having a doctorate, Nagamani wasn’t able to work immediately as the last ruler of Hyderabad at the time had ruled that women could not work or seek employment there.

So it was a long wait of over four years for Nagamani to becoming a working woman until the Nizam was deposed and the state joined India in 1948.

She first joined the Osmania University as a reader and over the years moved on to chair the department of chemistry at the university.

When her husband died in March 1992, she moved to Brigham City to live with her son, Suresh. Even at that age, the scientist would often spend time playing bridge and meeting her Bunka embroidery friends at the Senior Center.

Some of her works like the hand-embroidered sarees and Bunka pictures were displayed at the Senior Center and Perry City Office.

Read more: Here’s How India’s First Woman Lawyer, Cornelia Sorabji Opened Law for Women in 1924!

When she died at the ripe old age of 96 in the US in 2012, this scientist’s departing words were from a Sanskrit verse from the Vedas “Sarve Janah Sukhino Bhavantu” meaning “May all the people in the world get happiness and peace.”

Nagamani Kulkarni, one among the early women at IISc, paved the way for many more women to pursue careers in the STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math). Though it is unfortunate that not much has been documented about her life, let us draw inspiration from the life of this unsung woman scientist and give us women and girls the support to chase their dreams no matter what.

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French Prime Minister Emmanuel Macron’s first visit to India coincides with one of the bloodiest battles of World War I in the French village of Neuve Chappelle (March 10-13, 1915). At this site also lies a memorial listing the names of 4,700 Indian soldiers and labourers who died serving the Allied Forces as part of the British Indian Army against the Germans.

“The location of the memorial was specially chosen as it was at Neuve-Chapelle in March 1915 that the Indian Corps fought its first major action as a single unit,” says the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC).

The Battle of Neuve Chappelle was part of the first offensive launched by the Allied Forces against the Germans. Before the battle, the general perception of Indian soldiers among the colonialists was that they weren’t nearly as effective as their British counterparts. That perception probably changed at the Battle of Neuve Chappelle when the British Army, of which more than half of the attacking force were Indians, launched a valiant assault on German trenches.

“The Indian Corps, which was composed of the 3rd (Lahore) and 7th (Meerut) divisions, went on to fight in some of the bloodiest battles of the first year of the war. At Neuve Chapelle, from 10–13 March 1915, Indian soldiers made up half of the attacking force and despite suffering very heavy casualties succeeded in capturing important sections of the German line,” says the CWGC.

After the initial barrage of shelling by the British forces, both the British and Indian infantry forces converged on the German trenches. Although the British-Indian forces comfortably made some early gains through the centre, on either flank the initial barrage of artillery shelling had proven less effective, thus leaving the advancing troops vulnerable to German gunfire.

With no wireless technology, telephone lines destroyed by enemy fire and poor coordination between the corps headquarters and the front line, the British-Indian units on the flanks continued their advance when they heard of the early gains. Despite the lack of any artillery cover, poor overall coordination and failing light, these soldiers carried on with their offensive, taking on direct German gunfire valiantly with little fear for their lives.

After nearly three days of bloody fighting, the British-Indian forces broke the stalemate and overran the German forces on a 1,500 metre-front and Neuve Chapelle was captured on the morning of March 13. Approximately 40,000 Allied troops participated in the battle, of which there were 7,000 British casualties and 4200 Indian casualties.

Soldiers of the Indian Corps would go on to make a name for themselves at Ypres Salient, Aubers Ridge, Festubert, and Loos on the Western Front before some of them were deployed once again to fight wars in the Middle East. “The Indian Cavalry Corps remained on the Western Front until the spring of 1918 and Indian labour companies, which had begun arriving in France in 1917, performed vital and often dangerous logistical work behind the lines until after the Armistice,” adds the CWGC.

“In all, from 1914 to 1918, around 90,000 combat and non-combat men fought for the freedom of France and Belgium, serving under the Indian Army and the Imperial Service Troops,” wrote François Richier, former Ambassador of France to India in a 2014 article extolling India’s contribution.

Along the way, many Indian soldiers were honoured with gallantry awards from the British Crown, but the ultimate tribute would come from the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces and French general Marshal Ferdinand Foch during the unveiling of the memorial for the slain Indian soldiers at Neuve Chappelle in 1927.

“The Indian Troops were thus among the first to show the way to a victorious offensive. It is only right that a Memorial should perpetuate the glorious memory of officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the Indian Army at the very spot where later on a general attack by the Allied troops was to bring the decisive victory in sight,” he said.

Addressing the Indian Contingent, who had come for the unveiling of the memorial, Foch said: “Return to your homes in the distant, sun-bathed East and proclaim how your countrymen drenched with their blood the cold northern land of France and Flanders, how they delivered it by their ardent spirit from the firm grip of a determined enemy; tell all India that we shall watch over their graves with the devotion due to all our dead. We shall cherish above all the memory of their example. They showed us the way, they made the first steps towards the final victory.”

In total, approximately 1.3 million Indian soldiers served in the First World War and more than 70,000 died in the battlegrounds of northern France. Despite their heroics, India hasn’t probably done enough to remember their contributions. This is largely down to the notion that we were unsure of honouring Indian soldiers who had volunteered to fight a war for the colonialists. Nearly seven decades since Independence our attitudes have somewhat changed.

“For many Indians, curiosity has overcome the fading colonial-era resentments of British exploitation. We are beginning to see the soldiers of World War One as human beings, who took the spirit of their country to battlefields abroad,” says Member of Parliament Shashi Tharoor to the BBC.

While India may not be utterly keen to remember the contributions of her sons, it’s imperative to invoke what former French Ambassador to India François Richier once said, “France will never forget the suffering and the heroism of these men.” This is the spirit that binds the two nations together in blood.

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Nearly forty two years ago, on April 19, 1975, a group of 50 Indian scientists and technicians from ISRO gathered at the Soviet satellite launch complex in Kapustin Yar (near the Russian city of Volgograd) to watch an Intercosmos rocket blast off into space. This significant ISRO presence at the Soviet facility had a very special reason — the rocket was India’s first ever indigenous satellite into space.

Named after the famous 5th century astronomer, Aryabhata was a 360 kg small wonder made in the modest ‘tin sheds’ of Peenya (in Bengaluru) whose launch kick-started an incredible space journey that has seen India send a satellite to Mars! Yet few Indians know about the legendary space scientist behind this landmark satellite.

Here’s the little-known story of Udupi Ramachandra Rao, ex-ISRO chief and the man who worked tirelessly for decades to develop a strong space programme for India.

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Born on March 10,1932 to Lakshminarayana Acharya and Krishnaveni Amma in Adamaru (near Udupi) in Karnataka, Rao spent his childhood in the village. After completing his schooling, he earned his BSc from Madras University in 1952. Two years later, he completed his MSc in Physics from the Banaras Hindu University in 1954.

In 1960, Rao completed his PhD from the Gujrat University under the guidance of a man who would go on to be widely regarded as the father of India’s space programme — Dr. Vikram Sarabhai. Following this, he started working as a Faculty Member at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and later became an Assistant Professor at the University of Texas.

In 1966, Rao returned to India and took up the post of a professor at Ahmedabad’s Physical Research Laboratory. It was here that the talented cosmic ray scientist became the first person to establish the continuous nature of the solar wind and its effect on geomagnetism using Mariner 2 observations.

By this time, Sarabhai (Rao’s doctoral guide and later boss at ISRO) had already started laying the milestones in India’s space odyssey. Under his tutelage, on 21 November 1963, India’s first rocket launch had taken place in the sleepy Kerala villagee of Thumba,announcing the birth of the modern space age in the country.

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In 1972, Sarabhai tasked Rao — the only Indian then who had worked on NASA’s Pioneer and Explorer satellite projects — with building an indigenous Indian satellite. Understanding the significance of this, the dedicated scientist got to work with characteristic focus and determination.

Rao didn’t have a place to build a satellite or the people who knew how to do it. That meant that the Indian team would have to learn all the technology from scratch. Undaunted, he went to the Indian Institute of Science (IISc) director and asked for a few young students who were willing to take up this challenge. His request was accepted and he began training the youngsters.

As for the place, Rao scouted around and learnt about these industrial sheds that were coming up in Peenya (an industrial area in Bengaluru). Four of these tin sheds were cleaned out and converted into a working shed cum laboratory with an antenna built on the top. And then the team plunged into work.

Step by step, Rao and his team went about learning and building technology, from thermal control systems to communication instruments.

And the exemplary effort paid off when Aryabhata took its final shape in early 1975, built within in an incredible time frame of 30 months.

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The then-Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, also came down to see the assembled satellite that had been built under the aegis of an Indo-Soviet Satellite Project (the Soviet had offered the Indian satellite a free launch on its rockets). On April 19, the satellite was launched into space from the Volgograd spaceport at Kapustin-Yar.

Costing around Rs. 3.5 crore, Aryabhata was built as a 26-sided polyhedron that was about 1.4 metres wide. It had three payloads for conducting experiments in X-ray astronomy, aeronomy and solar physics, with the instruments comin from Tata Institute of Fundamental Research (TIFR) and Physical Research Laboratory (PRL).

Though the experimental spacecraft did not last its design life of six months in space, it did put India’s plan to build its own satellites solidly on track. Since then, the country’s space capability has come a long way, moving into highly sophisticated spacecrafts, and even buildin satellites for international customers.

Interestingly, the old Rs. 2 bank note used in the Indian of the 1970s carried an image of Aryabhata on one side!

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In the years that followed Aryabhata’s historic launch, Rao went on to become the first director of what is now called ISRO Satellite Centre (ISAC). He was responsible for 18 early satellites including the landmark Bhaskara (I and II), APPLE, INSAT and the Indian Remote Sensing (IRS) satellites.

In 1984, Dr. Rao succeeded Satish Dhawan as ISRO Chairman and Secretary, Department of Space. Under his commendable leadership, India successfully launched the ASLV rocket and built the fully operational PSLV launch vehicle, which is capable of launching 2.0 tonne class of satellites into the polar orbit.

The ISRO website also credits him with accelerating the development of the geostationary launch vehicle GSLV and the development of cryogenic technology in 1991. As the chairman of Advisory Committee on Space Sciences (ADCOS), he made crucial contributions to the Chandrayaan-1 lunar mission of 2008; the Mars Orbiter Mission of 2013; and the upcoming Chandrayaan-2 set for 2018.

All of these were and are programmes that have cemented India’s place among the global superpowers of space technology. In fact, at ISRO, there has not been a single planetary mission that has not been touched by this visionary!

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Even more important was the impact these projects had on bettering the lives of ordinary Indians. For instance, the IRS satellites are bringing about a revolution in India, from assessing crop yield and predicting pestilence to determining extent of snow-melt in the Himalayan range and helping fishermen locate the best areas to fish in the sea. INSAT, on the other hand, has helped provide telecommunication links to the remotest corners of India.

Rao himself was particularly proud of project that had led to satellite-enabled streaming of family planning and health programs (among other series) to government-provided satellite TVs.

In 1985, he told Sky & Telescope magazine,

“There are very remote areas in Orissa where people went to magicians instead of doctors. But we found that after seeing the programs, they were going to the doctors as well as the magicians. We made a step forward.”

Unsurprisingly, the always accessible and articulate Rao soon became a key figure in ISRO’s rise to international recognition.

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He is the first and only Indian to be inducted into the prestigious Satellite Hall of Fame, Washington in 2013 by the Society of Satellite Professionals International. Honoured by numerous national and international awards, the legendary scientist was also decorated by the Padma Bhushan in 1976 and the Padma Vibhushan in January 2017.

The legendary scientist passed way on July 24, 2017, at the age of 85, finally bringing down the curtain on the starry era of India’s pioneering space troika of Vikram Sarabhai, Satish Dhawan and Udupi Ramachandran Rao. A workaholic till the very end, he had remained active in his office at Antariksh Bhavan until about two weeks before his demise.

Also Read: A Tribute to M G K Menon, the Brilliant Physicist who Laid India’s Scientific Foundations

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When we hear the word “mummy”, most of us automatically think of the time-honoured pharaohs of Egypt (all right, some of us may also think of the blockbuster movie, The Mummy). Thanks to these unique relics, modern science has learned a lot about the life and afterlife of ancient Egyptians.

But as it turns out, there’s more to mummies than just the Egypt of yore! While most people are familiar with the ancient Egyptian practice of mummification (a painstaking process of preservation that involves treatments with oils and minerals), there are actually a number of ways in which a body can be mummified.

The most intriguing and eerie one among these techniques is natural self-mummification. Interestingly, India is home to a remarkably well-preserved specimen of this ancient tradition — the Gue mummy of Spiti Valley.

Believed to over 500 years old, this rare natural mummy belongs to Sangha Tenzin, a Buddhist monk who started the self-mummification process while still living!

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In 1975, an earthquake in the wind-sculpted Spiti Valley opened up a time-worn tomb in Gue, a little hamlet about 30 miles from the famous Tabo Monastery. Inside lay the mummified body of Sangha Tenzin, with skin intact, teeth visible through open lips and hair on his head. However, it was not until 2004 that the exposed tomb was finally excavated and the mummy removed.

After the resulting furore had settled down, a tiny, box-shaped concrete museum was built amidst the handful of mud houses at Gue. The 500-year-old mummy was then placed inside by the reverential locals, protected by only a thin sheet of glass.

The reason for the mummy being accorded this deep respect? Local folklore, according to which, Sangha Tenzin is said to have sacrificed himself for the survival of the village.

The story goes that he asked his followers to let him mummify himself after a devastating scorpion infestation. When his spirit left his body, it is believed that a rainbow appeared on the horizon following which the scorpions disappeared and the plague ended.

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For the uninitiated, the esoteric tradition of natural self-mummification practiced by Nyingma sect of Buddhist monks — called Sokushinbutsu — involves no embalming. It is incredibly difficult process in which the body is compelled to react in such a way that its fats and fluids reduce at a constant rate.

It begins with the monk ceasing to to eat barley, rice and legumes (food that add fat to the body).This is because fat putrefies after death and so removing the fat from the body helps in preserving it better. This also helps in reducing the size of organs to such an extent that the desiccated body resists decomposition.

Also Read: Why A Trip to Nako, Tabo and Kaza is the Best Himalayan Adventure You Will Ever Have

The body in kept in a seated posture (with a restrainer — called gomtag — around the neck and the thighs) so that the monk can continue to meditate. During this period of slow starvation, the monk runs candles along his skin to help it gradually dry out.  A special diet (herbs, roots and tree-sap that act as deterrent to flesh-eating insects) is also given towards the end to deplete moisture in the body and preserve the meat on the bone.

Following his death, the monk is carefully placed in an underground room and allowed to dry out further for three years, before being treated with candles again. With time, the physical form literally becomes a statue in prayer, a ‘living Buddha’ as these mummies are now known as.

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Interestingly, less than thirty of these self-mummified monks have been found around the world. Most of them have been found in Northern Honshu, an island in Japan whose monks also follows this practice of natural mummification.

The high levels of residual nitrogen (indicative of prolonged starvation) in Sangha Tenzin’s body shows that he followed this procedure to mummify himself.

Presently, the mummy shows little deterioration, despite having no artificial preservation and exposure to the elements. Its excellent state is probably due to the clean air, low humidity and extremely cold climate of the surrounding high-altitude desert.

As such, visitors to Gue’s unique museum can clearly observe Tenzin’s well-preserved form — from its intact head of hair and empty eye sockets to the darkened, taut skin on its broad forehead. As it sits firmly with its fist around one leg, chin resting on its knee, the mummified monk seems to be lost in contemplation as he gazes out at the surreal landscape beyond.

So if you plan to visit Spiti Valley, remember to make a detour to Gue and spend some time with India’s only naturalised mummy!

You May Like: Meet the Indian Scientist Who Successfully Restored Hyderabad’s 4500 Year Old Mummy

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It has been 500 years since the Golconda Fort came into existence. At one point in history, the fort was the pride and glory of the land, standing tall and regal—filled with treasures which are unimaginable today!

Yet, with constant ransacking and battle, the once magnificent fort gradually fell into disrepair.

Today, the Golconda Fort (or what’s left of it) stands in Hyderabad, with walls that tell many tales.

1. The Journey of the Koh-i-Noor Diamond and Other Gems

The region was famous for its mines, especially the Kollur mines, which extracted some of the most precious gems in history. Some sources argue that at the time, India was one of the only places where diamonds were mined. Golconda became the hub for diamond cutters, during the reign of the Kakatiya dynasty. The mines brought prosperity to the several rulers of Hyderabad, including the Qutb Shahis and the Nizam, until the Indian integration of Hyderabad.

In fact, the fort at one point housed precious diamonds such as the Hope diamond, Nassak diamond, and the Koh-i-Noor diamond, one of India’s most precious gems.

You can read more about the story of the Koh-i-Noor, here.

2. The Beginnings of the Fort

The original Golconda Fort is rumoured to have been constructed during the Kakatiya empire when a shepherd boy discovered an idol of a god on the site.

It is believed that the name Golconda is inspired from “Golla Konda,” meaning “Shepherd’s Hill.”

The initial structure was made out of mud and was later expanded by rulers such as Rani Rudrama Devi, and the Qutb Shahi Empire, who expanded the fort so that the 7-kilometre outer wall encompassed the city.

The fort itself became a seat of power for different dynasties. It started with the Kakatiyas, moving onto the Musunuri Nayaks, the Bahmani Sultanate, and the Qutb Shahi dynasty before the Mughals breached its walls, led by Aurangzeb.

3. The Ransacking of the Fort

One of the main attractions of the Golconda Fort is the Fateh Darwaza (Victory Gate), named because of Mughal emperor Aurangzeb’s capture of the fort after laying siege to it for over eight years. Aurangzeb’s victory at the Golconda Fort was what led to its eventual fall from glory.

You may also like: Fragrance of Heritage: The Fascinating History of the Iconic Mysore Sandal Soap

It is believed that the Qutb Shahi dynasty had received hostile attention, due to its connection to Shambhuji and believed “Hindu influence,” which the emperor took offence to. To add salt to the injury, a letter sent by Abul Hasan (the then-sultan) to his officer in the Mughal camp was intercepted, in which Aurangzeb was referred to as a “mean-minded coward”.

This was enough to infuriate the fragile ego of Aurangzeb who immediately sent Prince Shah of Alam to attack Hyderabad. This effort, however, was met with resistance.

Attack after attack was blocked, and the fort held out for around eight months.

Eventually, it was treason which gave Aurangzeb control of the fort. Abul Hasan’s army was bribed with the offer of money, and the gates were thrown open to attack. Only one soldier, named Abdur Razzaq Lari, refused his offer of money and fought valiantly in defence of the fort. He sustained as many as 70 wounds to his person and is believed to have survived.

4. The Amazing Acoustics

Almost every tourist who enters the fort, claps. Why? Simply because one clap is all it takes to discover the wonder of the acoustics.

A clap inside the grand portico under the dome can be heard in the Bala Hisar pavilion, almost one kilometre away!

It is the carefully constructed arches within the walls that are the secret to the astonishing acoustics housed in the fort. The architects of Golconda are believed to have created it so that an army chief could listen to what his sentries were doing.

Materials that were known for their sound reflection properties were blended into the material that went into the walls, which can be seen in the echoes today. For example, according to a report by The Hindu, a stamp on one of the black stones in the prayer hall creates seven distinct echoes!

5. Secret underground passages, water systems, and more!

It is rumoured that there is a secret underground passage which connects the durbar halls from the top to one of the palaces at the bottom of the hill. It was meant as an escape route for the royals, but it has not been found till date.

The queens of yore believed that looking into a mirror could increase the dark spots on one’s face, so instead of mirrors, the fort was equipped with water pits, from which they could see their reflection.

The security measures of the fort are also impeccable. The entry gate was purposely kept slightly narrow so that if an army were to attack, an elephant would be unable to hit the door directly. Even if the wall was breached, there was a cannon placed at the entrance which would expel hot oil on enemies, as an added security measure.

During the hot summer months, ventilation was such that the hot winds of summer would turn cool. The mechanism used a water tank, which would cool the breeze.

Today, the Golconda Fort which stands on a granite hill in Hyderabad is just a shadow of its former beauty. Even then, just a walk through its hallowed halls, and not one person can deny the brilliance of the structure.

One has to wonder, how breathtaking was Golconda Fort in its heyday? What other secrets do these walls hold? Maybe, time will tell.

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Seventy-one years after India finally got its hard-won independence, the courage and contributions of many freedom fighters have faded away from public memory. Largely overlooked by writers and historians, these men and women laid the foundation of India’s freedom from the British.

One such unacknowledged heroine is a woman few Indians know about, a woman who lived a life of intrigue and danger to help her nation fight colonial rule. The woman was Durga Devi Vohra alias Durga Bhabhi.

This unsung revolutionary appeared like a meteor on the anti-colonial nationalist sky and wielded tremendous influence on men such as Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Chandrashekhar Azad.

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The only child of a Gujarati couple settled in Allahabad, Durga Devi’s was brought up by her aunt after her mother passed away and her father took vows of sanyas (renunciation). At the young age of 11, she was married to Bhagwati Charan Vohra, the son of a wealthy Gujarati who lived in Lahore and worked for the railways.

Deeply impacted in her childhood by the brutal atrocities that Britain’s colonial rule kept inflicting on India, Bhagwati Charan joined the Satyagraha movements sweeping India in the 1920s. As a student at Lahore’s National College, he also joined Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev and Yashpal in starting study circles that would scrutinize the revolutionary movements happening around the world.

Soon after, the group of friends founded the Naujawan Bharat Sabha with the aim of encouraging youth to join the freedom struggle, inculcate a rational scientific attitude, and end the social evils of communalism and untouchability. As such, all these young revolutionaries became a frequent visitor to Bhagwati Charan’s family home in Lahore.

This was how Durga Devi — working as a teacher at a girls’ college in Lahore — first came into contact with the revolutionaries in Lahore. Drawn by cause of national freedom, she joined Hindustan Socialist Republican Association (HSRA), a nationalist party that organised revolutionary cells with the aim of setting India free from the shackles of British rule.

By the late 1920s, the members of HSRA had ramped up their revolutionary activity. Courting arrest was greeted with the distribution of sweets and the sight of a policeman with court summons was welcomed with joyous exclamations. And Durga Devi, a meticulous planner, was an integral part of the machinations of the HSRA.

In 1928, three years after she gave birth to her son, Durga Devi was forced to go underground when the police launched a brutally repressive drive against HSRA members. Bhagwati Charan had recently rented a room in Lahore to manufacture bombs and the couple was aware that their radical political activities had brought him to the attention of the CID.

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Nevertheless, they continued with their revolutionary actives. In early December of 1928, Bhagwati Charan left for Kolkata to attend the annual meeting of the Indian National Congress.

A few days later, on December 19, 1928, Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev and Rajguru assassinated Assistant Superintendent of Police John Saunders — the British police officer responsible for the brutal lathi charge that had led to the death of Lala Lajpat Rai.

In the resulting furore and spate of police raids, the trio came to their ‘Durga Bhabhi’ for assistance. To avoid recognition, they had cut their hair short and dressed in western attire.

Undaunted by the risk to her own safety, she agreed to help and handed over the sum of money her husband had left with her for emergencies. The daring woman also agreed to pose as Bhagat Singh’s wife in order to help him escape the British intelligence in Lahore.

What makes Durga Devi’s decision exceptionally courageous is the fact that the social conventions of the time strictly constrained contact between men and women who were not married. Despite knowing the risks, she chose to help the revolutionaries, knowing how important their leadership was for the nationalist struggle.

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Taking her three-year-old son along, the indomitable woman helped Bhagat Singh and Rajguru (pretending to be the family’s servant) neatly evade the massive police cordon and board a first class train carriage for Lucknow.

Interestingly, Chandrashekhar Azad also escaped Lahore by travelling in the company of Sukhdev’s mother and sister, disguised as a sadhu escorting the women on a pilgrimage!

On reaching Lucknow, Bhagat Singh immediately sent a telegram to Bhagwati Charan, informing him that he was coming to Calcutta with ‘Durgawati’ while Rajguru was going to Benares. When the two of them finally arrived at Calcutta, they were received by a very surprised Bhagwati Charan who was delighted to learn of his wife’s role in helping Bhagat Singh and Rajguru escape.

In the days that followed, Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Durga Devi attended the Calcutta session of INC incognito (where they glimpsed Gandhi, Nehru and SC Bose) and met several Bengali revolutionaries. Bhagat Singh’s iconic photograph in a felt hat was also taken in Calcutta.

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In fact, according to Jogesh Chandra Chatterji (freedom fighter and member of Anushilan Samiti), the plan to throw bombs and leaflets in Delhi’s Central Assembly was also made in Calcutta. This plan came to fruition on April 8, 1929, after which Bhagat Singh and Batukeshwar Dutt offered themselves up for arrest.

These were the two charges that were clubbed together by the British Raj in the Lahore conspiracy case that led to the arrest of the young leaders of HSRA. Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev and Rajguru were awarded the death sentence and police began to close in on other revolutionaries as well.

Also Read: Shivaram Rajguru and Sukhdev Thapar — The Forgotten Men Who Shook Up The British Raj

In Lahore, Bhagwati Charan’s bomb factory was discovered, forcing him into hiding. While this was happening, his wife continued to play the risky role of an undercover ‘post box’, receiving mail from absconding revolutionaries and forwarding them to their families.

Recognising that a power vacuum had been created in the HSRA due to the arrest of many leaders, Durga Devi began leading revolutionary activities herself. One of these included the daring assassination attempt on Lord Hailey, an ex-Governor of Punjab and a staunch enemy of revolutionaries. Although the Governor escaped, his aides were injured.

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However, a tragedy was hovering on the horizon. Bhagvati Charan had been planning to free Bhagat Singh by bombing the jail he was kept in. But a premature explosion while testing the bomb on the banks of the river Ravi led to his death.

A heartbroken Durga Devi dealt with the grief of her husband’s death by plunging into revolutionary work. In July 1929, she led a procession in Lahore, holding a placard with Bhagat Singh’s photograph and demanding his release. A few weeks later, she led the funeral procession of Jatindra Nath Das from Lahore to Calcutta after his death in the 63-day jail hunger strike.

The same year, October 8, she shot at a British policeman and his wife standing on the Lamington Road in South Bombay, in an incident that would later be described as “the first instance in which a woman figured prominently in a terrorist outrage”. For this, she was arrested and awarded three years imprisonment.

Yet all this is not Durga Devi’s only contribution to her country. In 1939, she visited Madras to receive training from Maria Montessori (the pioneering educator from Italy). A year later, she opened her own school in Lucknow — the first Montessori School in north India — with five students from underprivileged families.

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In the years after Independence, Durga Devi lived a quiet life of anonymity in Lucknow before breathing her last on October 15, 1999 at the age of 92. Interestingly, few fans of the blockbuster movie Rang De Basanti know that role played by Soha Ali Khan was based on Durga Devi!

It has often been seen that history, somehow, tends to forget its women. Many heroines, who walked shoulder to shoulder with the men during trying times, still remain in the shadows, their faces forgotten and their bravery unsung. Durga Devi Vohra is one such heroine, a woman whose exceptional bravery and intelligence deserves to be recognised and respected by her country.

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