In January 2020, Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister YS Jagan Mohan Reddy’s cabinet approved a proposal to have three capitals for the state, and two weeks ago, it was accepted by Governor Biswabhusan Harichandan. As per the new plan, the cities Visakhapatnam, Amaravati, and Kurnool will be the executive, legislative, and judicial capitals, respectively.
Now, the Tamil Nadu government has proposed the idea of a second capital, with many people clamouring for Madurai to be given this honour. This has been a talking point from the time of former Chief Minister MG Ramachandran. State officials believe this will reduce pressure on Chennai, and promote industrial and economic growth in the southern districts of the state.
What is the purpose of having multiple capitals?
In the case of Andhra Pradesh, the three proposed cities are far-flung from each other. Kurnool and Visakhapatnam are at a distance of 700 km with Amaravati in between. Officials believe that having different capitals can help in spreading economic growth through different and diverse channels. Having more than one capital for a state or union territory helps cover developmental gaps in cities and villages surrounding the capital.
But this is not new to India. For example, Uttar Pradesh considers Prayagraj as the judicial capital and Lucknow as the administrative capital. Having multiple branches of government in different cities can help in the development of areas, which otherwise are far from the capital. There are other states with two capitals, and their reasons for doing so are varied. Here are the reasons:
Maharashtra
Maharashtra has two capitals — Mumbai and Nagpur — with the latter being the winter capital of the state.
Why?
The States Reorganisation Act, 1956 led to India being divided based on languages. Marathi-speakers demanded a separate state for themselves, and eventually, Bombay State was divided into Maharashtra and Gujarat.
Indian political leaders came to an agreement on 28 September 1953, called the ‘Nagpur Pact’. This resulted in the creation of Maharashtra with Marathi-speaking areas from the then Bombay State, parts of Madhya Pradesh, the then Hyderabad state, and Vidarbha, which was taken from the Central Provinces.
Being 1,000 km away from Mumbai, the people of Vidarbha were in doubt whether development and fair treatment would be given to them, hence Nagpur was decided as the second capital. During the winter session, assemblies would be held there, and the issues of the Vidarbha population would be addressed.
Karnataka
Belagavi, previously known as Belgaum, is a city in northern Karnataka. It is the second most populous district, with 10 lakh people, after Bengaluru. While it is not officially announced, this city is considered as the second capital of Karnataka.
Why?
According to news reports, the reason to make Belagavi the second capital was because this city and other parts of northern Karnataka were neglected in terms of development. People felt that though the region’s population was increasing, there was little or no improvement in the city’s infrastructure. An article in The Times of India suggests that it was owing to a political situation between Karnataka and Maharashtra.
In 2012, a ‘Suvarna Vidhana Soudha,’ the state legislature building was constructed in Belagavi, where winter sessions of the state’s assembly are held.
Jammu and Kashmir
The Union Territory Jammu and Kashmir, also has two capitals — Srinagar in summers and Jammu in winters.
Every year, from May to October, all the legislative meetings are held in Srinagar, and from November to April, they shift to Jammu which is the winter capital of the state.
Why?
This bi-annual shift is known as Darbar move. It was established in the 19th century by Ranbir Singh, the Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir, and there are different reasons behind the move — strategic as well as climatic.
In 1846, once the Treaty of Amritsar was signed, the regions of Jammu, as well as Kashmir, came under the Dogra Kingdom which was the King’s dynasty. To keep the people of Kashmir happy, both Srinagar and Jammu were made capitals of the state,and the assembly would take place for 6 months in both places.
The other reason for the Darbar move is the harsh winters that make Srinagar inaccessible.
Himachal Pradesh
The hilly state is another one that has two capitals — Dharamshala and Shimla. The latter is considered the summer capital because the region receives heavy snowfall during winter, causing landslides.
In 2017, then Chief Minister Virbhadra Singh officially announced that Dharamshala town will be the second state capital. According to news reports, the CM believed that making this the capital would improve lower-lying areas of the state — Kangra, Chamba, Hamirpur and Una districts, and benefit those who had to travel a long way to Shimla for their work.
Just like new states were created for mostly administrative reasons, the idea of more than one capital is also to bring in ease of administration, development to remote regions in these states, and for cultural significance. So, while these conversations may seem new to us today, they have been happening for decades, with solutions at the end of them.
There are many reasons why some parts of India flood more often than others. In the case of Assam, the Brahmaputra has changed course over the years, with erosion playing a major role in the flooding of the state. Kerala has seen extremely heavy rainfall, owing to which floods have been occurring for three years now.
However flooding in cities, which otherwise appear to be areas without any major water bodies, remains an unsolvable ‘mystery’, though they shouldn’t.
Experts say that the primary reasons for urban flooding include over concretisation, disappearing water bodies and encroachment in areas storm water drains. Drains too over time lose their capacity to carry water as waste and sewage are dumped into them – clogging the entire pathway.
Take the latest example. Many found it particularly surprising when a few hours of rainfall flooded the streets of Gurugram. But should it come as a surprise?
The city of Gurgaon
A 2014 report by the Delhi Parks and Gardens Society indicates at least 200 water bodies that existed in the city in the 20th Century, which have been encroached.
Here, we look at a few documented lakes, drains and other structures that were instrumental in preventing water-logging in Gurugram and that have been slowly disappearing over the years.
1. Ghata Lake
Mentioned in the Gazette of India (1883), Ghata lake is a seasonal water body that covered almost 370 acres until the early 2000s. The natural lake could hold some 50 feet of water until a few years ago. But unfortunately, it has been converted into a dumping ground.
This is even more shocking since the Ghata lake bed serves as a floodplain for storm water drains — especially those that enter Gurugram from Delhi.
Located in the Ghata village, this network is known as the Badshahpur drain and aids the drainage around the city, especially during monsoon. But, with the lake reducing to less than 50 acres and poor maintenance of the drain, flooding is almost inevitable.
The lake also recharges groundwater, something Gurugram is quickly growing short of.
2. Bundhs
What a traditional bundh looks like
Old survey maps of Gurugram that date back to the 1970s show that the area had several natural drainage lines and channels. But with increased urbanization of the cities and construction of roads, these seem to have disappeared over time.
Reports state that there were at least 118 bunds were present in the Gurugram-Faridabad area. But much information on them has ceased to exist over time. These small channels are helpful because they break the flow of water into smaller rivulets. Traditionally, they were also used to irrigate agricultural fields and recharge groundwater levels.
3. Traditional Dams
Since the time of the British Raj, there have been records of the existence of small dams in the are. Most of them existed in areas like Nuthupur, Wazirabad, Ghata, Manesar and Jharsa. In conversation with The Hindustan Times, an expert from the School of Planning and Architecture in Delhi said, “The Ghata dam spread to 5 square miles during the monsoons in the 1940s. Now it is non-existent.”
The disappearance of these dams results in the flooding of the Golf Course Road and its neighbouring areas.
But, all is not lost. Last year, efforts of city-based NGO IAmGurgaon and their collaboration with the state forest department helped restore the Wazirabad bund.
They were able to successfully desilt and clean the bund, which won them the Best Practices to Improve the Living Environment award in 2019 from the Housing and Urban Development Corporation of India (HUDCO).
Going by historical records, the first Indian emigrant arrived in the US in 1790. Early on a number of Indians found work mostly as house help in the homes of sea captains working for the East India Company.
Today, Kamala Harris, a second generation Indian American, is the vice presidential nominee of the Democratic Party for the upcoming US general elections.
Like many minority communities who first came into the United States, Indian immigrants too had to deal with widespread xenophobia, structural racism, violence and an unempathetic judicial and political system. For decades, America was the land of the free and home of the brave, but only for its white constituents.
But many Indians, who had made their way to this land of opportunity, were never going to take this injustice lying down. They fought for their right to become US citizens, make this country their home and even established alliances with other minorities like Mexican- and African-Americans.
“By 1910, the number of Indian immigrants slowly rose to 3,000, having settled on the Pacific Coast as agricultural workers. Many were Sikhs from Punjab seeking better fortunes in the West. Additional immigrants would come and work on the Western Pacific railroad and take employment in the lumber mills of Washington State…In the early twentieth century, hundreds of South Asians, mostly Sikhs but also many Muslims, came to North America from Punjab—the vast majority of them former soldiers who had served in the British colonial army in East Asia. While many Indian laborers came as ‘sojourners’ rather than as settlers; they lived frugally, and their sole objective being to return to Indian with their savings. Instead of returning home to a farming economy under severe stress due to British colonial practices, they sought their fortunes in various settlements on the West Coast, between Vancouver and San Francisco,” writes Williams.
On the East Coast, however, a different set of immigrants from the Indian subcontinent were making their presence felt. These were Muslim traders from Bengal who set up shop in the 1880s as sellers of ‘exotic products’ like rugs, performs, and embroidered silk, amongst others.
In his book Bengali Harlem and the lost histories of South Asian America, writer Vivek Bald presents a remarkable finding. “As they accessed white consumers with fantasies from India, their pathway into and across the United States was a pathway through working class Black neighbourhoods,” he writes.
One neighbourhood where these immigrants cohabited with African-Americans was Treme in New Orleans, popular for its music and culture.
“Here some of the Bengalis married and started families with African-American women, who were part of recent Black migration into the city, or with Creole of Colour women who had deep generational roots in Treme,” writes Bald.
The next wave of immigrants from India followed were those who had escaped from British steamships during World War I. Indian maritime workers who manned the kitchens and engine rooms of these ships escaped to cities like New York, Baltimore and Philadelphia in search of better pay and working conditions. Most of these workers were from present-day Bangladesh, Punjab, Kashmir and NWFP (now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa). In cities like New York, they found work in the low-paying service economy as elevator operators, cooks and dishwashers.
When these immigrants found their way into America, they were subjected to racism. Similar to current discourse about immigrants taking away jobs from ‘Americans’ (a term that means different things for people on different ends of the political spectrum), then too, there was opposition to Indian immigrants as they accepted lower wages for menial jobs.
When hundreds of Punjabi workers arrived in California and the Pacific Northwest, they were met by white civil society groups and labour unions demanding they be sent back.
In December 1907, the Asiatic Exclusion League, an anti-immigrant organisation, came into existence in San Francisco. It was earlier called the Japanese and Korean Exclusion League, but with the growing inflow of Chinese and other South Asian immigrants, they changed their name. This organisation would go on to lobby members of the United States Congress to introduce harsh anti-immigration law and use violence as a means to ensure there was no rise in the Asian population across the West Coast.
Apart from this, immigrants had to face racist attacks too. One such violent attack was in the town of Bellingham in Washington, where white mill workers rounded up Indians from their homes and jobs in September 1907.
A decade later, Congress passed the Immigration Act of 1917, which was popularly known as the Asiatic Barred Zone Act. This piece of legislation prevented all Asians from entering the US unless they found jobs with high educational requirements.
According to Williams, as a result of this Act “1,700 Indians were deported while 1,400 left voluntarily”. The next body blow for Indian immigrants came in 1923, when the US Supreme Court passed its ruling in the United States vs Bhagat Singh Thind case.
Thind had fought in the US military during World War 1, and sought American citizenship. However, the court denied his request. Prior to his application, “very few foreign-born Indian immigrants had become US citizens by exploiting ambiguities in the pseudoscientific race theories of the time, by claiming ‘north Indian Aryan’ ethnicity and hence membership among Caucasians and ‘free whites’,” notes Williams. The court closed this loophole stating “he would not be considered ‘white’ in the eyes of the ‘common man’ despite scientific race categories, and was therefore also ineligible for citizenship,” states Immigration History.
Following the judgement, the government stripped Indian immigrants of their citizenship even though they had already been naturalised and also blocked any pathway towards naturalisation.
“Some immigrants returned to India, unable to bear the racism and limited opportunities. As a result, the Indian population in the United States dwindled to 2,405 by 1940,” write authors Sanjoy Chakravorty, Devesh Kapur and Nirvikar Singh, in their book The Other One Percent: Indians in America. The few who came were primarily students.
Fighting Back
Following the Supreme Court’s Thind ruling, six Asian Indian civil rights organisations were created to fight for citizenship. These organisations were the Hindu Citizenship Committee, the Indian Association for American Citizenship, the Indian National Congress of America, the Indian Welfare League, the National Committee for India’s Freedom and most importantly the India League for America.
It was the India League for America, once a non-profit comprising private individuals discussing Indian literature and philosophy, which morphed into an effective political lobbying entity under the aegis of Sirdar Jagjit Singh, when he took over as its president in 1941. Singh had moved to New York in 1926 from Rawalpindi, and “established a business supplying luxury Eastern imports to the city’s elites”.
Despite great odds, he ensured the India League for America became the voice of the 4,000-member strong Indian community in America, and heavily lobbied Congress.
Fortunately, for Singh, a few mitigating factors began working in his favour.
“World War Two and the U.S.’s alliance with India brought new changes and beginnings. South Asians in the U.S. lobbied politicians to revise the immigration laws and to build support for Indian independence,” notes Erika Lee, writing for South Asian American Digital Archive. In his proposals, Singh makes a strong case for why Indian should not be excluded from American society.
“The people of India have no desire to ask for any special privileges or treatment. They do not seek unrestricted immigration into the United States, but they do wish and ask that the stigma of inferiority be removed,” he wrote.
“Democratic and freedom loving Americans are certainly not shedding their blood for the continuance of racial discrimination, racial intolerance, racial superiority, which are Hitlerian theories and must result in wars,” he added.
Another central figure in this battle for Indian immigrants was Mubarak Ali Khan, who had settled in Arizona’s Salt River Valley back in the 1910s. Along with some other farmers from the Indian subcontinent, he had converted fallow lands stretching hundreds of acres into thriving fields growing rice. His rationale for greater inclusion of Indians in American society was a little different.
“It sought naturalisation rights for the roughly three thousand Indians who were estimated to have settled in the United States prior to the Supreme Court decision of 1923….most of these immigrants were farm and factory labourers – exactly the population of ‘undesirable aliens’ that the 1917 immigration Act had sought to keep out of the country,” writes Bald.
In March 1945, both men testified before the House Committee on Immigration and Naturalization of the US Congress, pushing their proposal for citizenship. They spoke extensively about the contribution of Indian immigrants in academia, science, medicine, agriculture, infrastructure building and participation in the War effort. Another Bengali from New York City, Ibrahim Choudhury, who was representing South Asian workers along the East Coast, encapsulated that argument in a letter he wrote to the House Committee.
“I talk for those of us who, by our work and by our sweat and by our blood, have helped build fighting industrial America today. I talk for those of our men who, in factory and field, in all sections of American industry, work side by side with their fellow American workers to strengthen the industrial framework of this country…We have married here; our children have been born here…I speak for such as myself, for those of my brothers who work in the factories of the East and in Detroit…I speak for the workers and the farmers of our community whose lives have been bound to this country’s destiny for 23 years or longer,” states his letter.
Finally, after much lobbying, President Harry Truman signed the Luce-Celler Act of 1946, which allowed South Asians to apply for admission and become naturalised US citizens. “All immigration, however, was subject to the discriminatory national origins quotas that were still in place, and India’s quota allowed only 100 people in per year,” writes Erika Lee.
From hereon, the movement for greater inclusion of Indian Americans, rode the wave of the Civil Rights Movement. It was the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 which really opened the floodgates for the arrival of Indian immigrants into America.
As Lee writes, “Inspired by the Civil Rights revolution in American society, the 1965 Immigration Act explicitly abolished the discriminatory national origins quotas that had regulated entrance into the country since the 1920s. It explicitly prohibited discrimination on the basis of race, sex, nationality, place of birth, or place of residence in the U.S. government’s decisions to issue immigrant visas. Instead, the law established a new preference system based on professional status and family reunification.”
Immigration Act of 1965: US President Lyndon B. Johnson signs the bill into law. (Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
Indian-American comedian Hasan Minhaj even makes a reference to this point in one of his sketches earlier this year while speaking on the murder of George Floyd. “We’re in this country because of protest — because of the Civil Rights Movement. The only reason so many of us are here is because of The Immigration Act of 1965. That law rode the wave of the Civil Rights Act of ‘64. Think of the chess moves. Martin [Luther King] gets Lyndon B Johnson to sign that sheet of paper, and little do we know, MLK CC’d us on that email of progress.”
By 1980, the Indian immigration population in the US was 206,000. As of 2018, the number of Indian immigrants in the United States is 2.65 million.
By any stretch of the imagination, this is a remarkable story, which many of us back in India don’t really know about. From working in menial jobs, either in railroads or hard labour in lumber mills, to now being represented in almost every facet of American life, Indian Americans have come a long way.
Feature Image: In June 1946, president Harry Truman signed the Luce-Celler Act that paved out an immigrant quota. (Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)
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It’s no secret that Indians are passionate about their food and this is the culmination of each region lending its unique taste, flavours and cuisine that bind the geographical extents of India.
In a vast and diverse nation such as ours, food tends to evolve. It crosses borders, cuts across the varied palates and absorbs the local ingredients. This evolution leads to debates and discussions about the origin of a particular dish or the superiority in taste.
We do not shy away from a good food fight, both on and off the plate if it comes to the food each region takes pride in.
So in honour of our everlasting ardour for soul-satisfying delicacies here are some epic food battles to remember:
In popular culture, roshogolla, made with Indian cottage cheese or chhaana or chenna (in Odia) is often considered a quintessential Bengali delicacy. However, a few years back, this was disputed by West Bengal’s neighbour, Odisha.
They claimed that the sweet-ball of sugary delight originated from the famous Jagannath Temple in Puri as part of the religious rituals in the 12th century. The claim was that the Odisha Rasagola was brown in colour, soft and not very sweet. In the honour of the universally-loved delicacy, the Odisha government established 30 July as the Rasagola Dibasha in 2015 to mark the festival of Niladri Bije, the last day of the Rath Yatra.
West Bengal was quick to retort, staking a claim to their state’s beloved dessert. In Bengal, one can find all types of roshogollas but the traditional ones are the light-cream coloured, spongy ball-shaped sweets soaked in sugar syrup called chashni.
In West Bengal, the origin of roshogolla is credited to confectioner Nobin Chandra Das in the 1860s.
The epic Rasgulla battle began over the Geographical Indication (GI) tag.
A GI tag is an intellectual property identifier that recognises the origin of a product. The tag is to prevent any unauthorised use of the geographical indication aiming to boost exports by giving any product its unique identity.
Finally, two separate GI tags had to be bestowed on the ball full of sugar syrup. The Bengalis have their Banglar Roshogolla and the Odias have their Odisha Rasagola.
The battle may be over but the war on which Roshogolla/Rasagola is better, rages on.
Sambar is a hearty lentil and tamarind-based broth with one or more vegetables. It is not just an ordinary side dish, but a subject of debate across southern India and beyond. Over taste, texture and even methods of preparation, states like Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh continue to fight.
While the sambar prepared in Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh is slightly sweet, the Tamil Nadu version has more savoury flavour and spice.
But beyond the table-top debates about whose version is the best or most authentic, the origin of sambar was more or less associated with south India, until food scholars presented an alternate theory. The fight then turned murkier as many began to claim that the quintessential Dravidian delicacy might have roots of origin in Maharashtra.
According to one version of the story, the second Maratha ruler of Thanjavur, Shahuji Bhonsle (1684-1712) had organised a welcome ceremony in his palace, for his cousin Sambhaji, son of Shivaji. During the preparations for the feast, royal cooks were in a fix due to the lack of essential supplies like kokum and moong dal for a traditional Marathi dal, amti.
“Since there was no kokum, they used tamarind, the local souring agent. The dish, made almost by accident, was appreciated and named ‘sambar’ in honour of Sambhaji,” Nandini Vitthal, a native of Thanjavur Maratha Deshastha community tells DNA.
But owing to the poorly documented history of Indian food and its dynamic quality to diversify beyond borders, there also exist a number of counter-theories for the origin of sambar with references going back to 1648 accounts by Govinda Vaidya, a poet in the court of Wodeyar king Kanteerva Narasa Rajendra Vijaye. Huli, a sour dish resembling sambar made with toor dal, tamarind and vegetables was popular in the kingdom.
Now reigning across India as a comfort food, sambar’s impressive versatility makes it even harder to reach a conclusive account of origin, keeping its past speckled and spectacular as ever.
Another South Indian dish that sets off the origin debate is the humble rice cake, idli. Largely known all across the world as a south Indian delicacy, Idli has its origins abroad, according to a few food historians.
With a dearth of relevant literature to point to its origin, food historians like KT Achaya and Shri Bala believe that idli might have just come to India via trade links between Indonesia and South India. While Achaya points out its similarity to an Indonesian dish kedli, Shri Bala provides a more constructive theory on why idli could not have been invented in south India, to be more exact, Tamil Nadu, at all.
She claims that the tradition of fermenting batter was not popular in ancient South India, and it is this method of preparation of idli that makes it hard to be a truly Indian delicacy.
Fermentation as a culinary technique has been well-documented in Indonesian food history and was probably passed down to Indian cooks during trade transactions. Her theory is that India might have brought in the technique and experimented with a number of dishes, idli being the result.
Beyond this however, the origins of this fluffy round cloud of culinary comfort is quite blurry.
A staple in Western India, pao or pav is a common man’s bread. Extremely versatile, it is the base for several iconic Marathi dishes like, vada-pav, pav bhaji, misal pav, and keema pav among others. But the state’s neighbour Goa also boasts a range of dishes like vindaloo, sorpotel, etc. as the perfect companion for pao, commonly known as poi in the region.
But unlike rasgulla or sambhar, the battle over pao is not quite as fiery. Both regions accept their similarities with pao in a rather civilised manner. Pao forms the crux of both Goan and Marathi cuisine and there’s no table-thumping dispute over it.
The reason could be the foreign roots of the staple and was in fact, a gift from the Portuguese. In her book, Curry: A Biography, Elizabeth M. Collingham talks about how the Portuguese landed in a place where the locals largely ate rice. They introduced a small round and crusty bread called pao to be used especially during Holy Communion.
Although flour was available in Goa, yeast was difficult to find. Therefore, the bakers used drops of the local liquor toddy, to ferment the dough and create various shapes. From there the bread then traveled to Mumbai where it was soon picked up as common street food that can be eaten on the go.
Over the years, pao, pav or poi has emerged as an iconic companion of both vegetarian and non-vegetarian curries all across India.
A gram flour dumpling in yoghurt gravy is a simple way of defining India’s most intriguing comfort food, kadhi pakora. It is so popular that every part of India claims to have its own version of it. But the Punjabi and Rajasthani kadhi has somehow gained more mainstream popularity over the years.
According to many food bloggers, kadhi’s origin seems to be in Rajasthan owing to its mode of preparation. The state is a prominently arid region and the use of yoghurt or other dairy products is quite common in Rajasthani cuisine. So the substitution of water and veggies with yoghurt and gram flour for the pakoras (lentils, gram flour and beans is commonly grown in the region), led to the origin of kadhi, and soon this besan kadhi travelled to its neighbouring states like Gujarat, Punjab and Haryana, according to some.
Achaya, however, disputes this claim. According to him, kadhi has its origin in South India as the word ‘kari’ in Tamil, records of which can be found in 1500 B.C.
“Some also believe that the yoghurt-based Kadhi is from Northwestern India and is a precursor to what came to be known as the British curry. The British were exposed to this saucy dish much earlier than to the foods of the south; they had entered India in the early 1600s through the northwestern city of Surat, making kadhi quite possibly the original curry,” he says.
Be it the Marwaris, Gujaratis, Sindhis and Punjabis or whole of south India, everyone seems to lay claim for the fame of this turmeric-imbued delish curry. Some add a bit of mustard tadka, while others add curry leaves, but nothing can dispute the fact that this dish, in all its varieties, is a wholesome meal that tends to simmer with love and nostalgia.
Amid these fuzzy food origin stories, what emerges is an extraordinary saga of gastronomic brilliance that India boasts of. These delicacies, despite having been clearly undocumented over centuries, have survived, even though their origins may be lost to us.
According to a recent report, India had been declining in its growth momentum over the past three years and grew barely 3% in the quarter before the pandemic. The report also stated that India’s GDP shrunk by 24% and economists now expect the GDP to shrink by 10% in 2020-21.
At a time like this, it is important to remember that almost 300 years ago, India accounted for more than a 1/4th of the world’s GDP. Although the share began falling after the British took over our country, the emperors during the time managed to keep the country’s revenue intact amidst famine and several other economic crises.
Here are five Indian rulers who took monumental decisions to sustain the economy of our country.
Cholas
The Cholas, who reigned for close to 430 years (C.E 850 -1280), created economic policies in the 9th Century completely from scratch. Among the first things they did was to survey and grade the land in order to set up a fair taxation system, and they went from there to develop their massive trade routes – which stretched to ancient Rome.
The Chola economy was constructed at different levels, beginning with towns or the ‘nagaram’, which acted as distribution centres for produce and a source for products made by local artisans for international trade. The Chola rulers also actively encouraged the weaving industry and derived revenue from it which were also sold at the ‘nagarams’ to traders.
Indeed, unlike the main agricultural economies of the North at the time, Cholas chose to develop their kingdom through intensive trade and urbanisation. They also had an even distribution between ‘rule from the centre’ and ‘self-governance, in that nagarams and other centres were allowed to reinvest parts of the wealth they earned as they saw fit.
Not that agriculture was ignored. For example, the Chola rulers built stone dams across the Kaveri, of which the 2000-year-old Kallani dam built by King Karikalan is still in use. The dam is said to have irrigated 69,000 acres of land. The Cholas also created channels to distribute water to allow agriculture to flourish.
Lesson: Self-governance at the city or town levels helps accelerate growth
Asaf-Ud-Daulah
Nawab Asaf-Ud-Daulah, the fourth Nawab of Awadh (present-day Lucknow), assumed the throne in 1775 and brought about significant changes in the economy of his province. Widely known for his efforts for public employment, the nawab started a ‘food for work’ programme during the famine of 1784, which lasted for 11 years.
One of the most iconic structures in Lucknow, the Bara Imambara was built as a result of this programme, employing thousands of citizens. Such government-mandated work gave rise to the saying, “Jisko na de Maula, Usko de Asaf-Ud-Daula”, meaning, those who did not receive from the almighty will receive from Asaf-Ud-Daula. The Nawab is said to have employed more than 20,000 men for the construction of the Bara Imambara which also lasted 11 years.
Today the historic monument left behind by the Nawab is not just an architectural wonder but stands as a testimony for the economic stability he provided his citizens.
Lesson: Governments can stimulate economies through large-scale public works
Sher Shah Suri
After the invasion of the Delhi Sultanate in 1398 by the Turkish conqueror Timur, the sultanate was in ruins, and the citizens had lost everything they had. The economy was especially shattered.
But when Sher Shah Suri came to power, he reestablished the sultanate using policies that considered every stratum of the society, especially the farmers who were not receiving the income they deserved.
Before his rule, land revenue was calculated on the basis of the estimated production of the land. This was an unfair system since the produce varied every year. He had every plot of farmland in his kingdom measured precisely and graded by quality. Each peasant was given a document called a patta that specified the tax due on the specified land so that the revenue collectors could not cheat the farmers. Farmers also had the option of paying land revenue in kind or cash.
He is also widely known for his investments in the infrastructural development of the country.
The construction of the Grand Trunk Road, the standardisation of the rupee as a currency and the development of a large postal system were all his efforts towards a better administrative system which highly improved India’s productivity.
Lesson: Fresh surveys, coupled with infrastructure projects, help shake-off old inefficiencies, and increase tax revenues.
Chandragupta Maurya
When Chandragupta Maurya came into power in 321 BCE, surviving sources stress how he established a strong economy through infrastructural projects, especially through irrigation.
Evidence was found in the Junagadh rock inscription of Rudradaman in Gujarat, which dates back to 150 CE. The inscription stated that Rudradaman repaired and enlarged the reservoir and irrigation infrastructure built by Chandragupta.
In fact, the great Maurya is said to have built a dam across the river Girnar, creating a large lake which was maintained for almost 800 years after its construction, giving the region some stability in production and the government more control over the economy.
In agriculture, the Muaryans did away with the practice of paying tax to hundreds of lesser lords and centralised it. The king officially owned all land, and farmers paid their produce as tax to central authorities alone.
Besides irrigation, the Maurya also made significant progress in industry and trade. Guilds from the Mauryan empire became free centres of the economy and major contributors in the manufactured goods industry. The empire built large export industries, building ships that traded figs, wine, and silver goods with far off places like Eygpt.
Interestingly, capitalism flourished during the Mauryan era, with many private entities rising to prominence, something that was rare at the time in India.
Lesson: Simplifying tax regimes, while boosting irrigation, stablises the backbone of the economy, allowing other sectors to flourish.
Akbar
When Akbar came to power in 1556, Delhi and Agra were under threat by Hemu Vikramaditya, Chief Minister of Adil Shah Suri and Punjab was also under dispute by Sikandar Sūr and was on the verge of collapse.
In order to bring stability to the state, he started by abolishing the pilgrim tax from non-Muslims. He also developed the existing revenue system in a way that was convenient to the peasants and profitable to the state.
In 1580 using the previous 10 years’ local revenue statistics, productivity and price fluctuations, he averaged the produce of different crops and their prices. The new system rapidly expanded the economy, and as a result, moneylenders and dealers became active in rural areas. Akbar also secured the support from the dominant rural groups, and his officials dealt with the leaders of the communities.
Lesson: Price control helps better planning, and microfinance gives rural economies an added boost.
When the country’s economy is going through a severe downfall, the lessons on the economy from these emperors are definitely something to go back to.
The Bengali identity is far more complicated than what meets the eye. Once you slowly peel off layers of intellectual snobbery, passionate gluttony, perseverance for procrastination and long afternoon naps, you reveal the inherent Bengali need for celebration and joy at all times.
This rings especially true in a common Bengali saying – “Bangalir baro mashe tero porbon” (Bengalis celebrate 13 festivals in 12 months!). From food, sleep, books, cinema, art, politics to mythical figures, everything is a metaphor for the joy they seek within and beyond.
That is why, ‘Durga Pujo’ is not another religious festival for them, but officially the biggest and grandest display of that emotion of joy, one which began just a few days ago, on September 17 with the much-anticipated Mahalaya.
A day celebrated to usher the Devi Paksha lunar phase of the Hindu calendar, it represents Agomoni (a warm welcome to the mother). According to folklore and mythology, this is when Goddess Durga and her children begin their journey from Mount Kailash to her maternal home on the plains, boarding a vehicle of her choice – the palanquin, boat, a horse or an elephant.
But in addition to the stories and the soaring excitement for the upcoming festival, there is something integral for the ‘pujo-pujo’ feel to be complete- an early morning broadcast of the ‘Mahisasuramardini‘ radio show, by none other than the legendary Birendra Krishna Bhadra.
His voice and delivery of the Sanskrit shlokas in the musical cantata has now become synonymous with Mahalaya itself.
A prominent Bengali playwright, this man’s 4 am version of ‘Chandipath‘ (chanting from Chandi) not only convinced generations of Bengalis across the globe to make the ultimate sacrifice of their beloved sleep but also revolutionized Indian radio by becoming the oldest and longest-running radio show in the country.
On the eve of Mahalaya, almost every Bengali household makes preparations for the radio programme scheduled to start the next day in the chilly pre-dawn hours.
At the stroke of 4 am, the bellowing sound of a conch shell echoes from the radio. This marks the beginning of the popular ‘Chandipath‘ on All India Radio (AIR). It is then followed by the rising notes of a chorus chanting Sanskrit shlokas.
And then comes the treat, the striking baritone voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra piercing through the harmonies of classical singers to begin the recitation that describes the epic battle between Goddess Durga and the demon king Mahishasura.
The 89-minute long audio montage first started as a live-performance in 1931, with an orchestra and chorus clad in white dhotis and red-bordered white sarees. However, since 1966, AIR has been broadcasting the pre-recorded version of the show every year on Mahalaya.
Scripted by Bani Kumar and with music composed by Pankaj Mullick, the programme is a combination of devotional songs, classical music, acoustic melodrama, traditional instrumentals and Sanskrit shlokas.
But, it is the sonorous narration by Bhadra that sets it apart from anything that came before or after. Even after 89 years, it is this version that has managed to singularly captivate the audience, both old and new, religious, spiritual or otherwise.
An interesting testimony to this can be found the year 1976 when AIR decided to experiment and replace Bhadra’s version of ‘Chandipath‘ with the one narrated by a famous Bengali actor and icon, Uttam Kumar and called the show, ‘Durga Durgatiharini‘.
According to AIR radio presenter Ratna Sen, in a 2008 report, this experiment caused a jolt among the Mahalaya patrons. As a result, Akashvani Bhavan faced a lot of flak and outrage, demanding the return of Bhadra’s show to the airways.
“Some phone calls were so caustic that we had to slam the phone down,” she said to the Indian Express. The information minister at the time, LK Advani, was then forced to issue a public retraction and bring back Bhadra’s version in 1977.
Although Bhadra passed away in 1991, his recorded voice continues to mesmerize listeners, not just on the radio but also other online platforms like YouTube and other mobile-based applications.
Fighting the demons of social injustice and discrimination
On the day of Mahalaya, one narrates the tale of the victory of good over evil with Goddess Durga defeating the buffalo-headed demon king, Mahishasura. Although this strong message presented in the unique voice of Bhadra bagged much-deserved appreciation from the very beginning, the journey to this recognition was not devoid of challenges.
One such hurdle was that of caste-based discrimination.
Back in 1931, when the programme was about to begin, several people from a community of orthodox Hindu Brahmins of Bengal protested against Bhadra’s involvement in the programme. According to them, he was unfit for the recitation of ‘Chandipath‘ as he was not of the right caste. Even one of his superiors at AIR touted this opinion against his performance in the Mahisasuramardini, according to this report.
But Bani Kumar turned a deaf ear to all of the protestations and progressed with the plan. Interestingly, as it transpired, in the team of musicians and singers backing Bhadra, many were Muslims. The final outcome of this collaboration of Muslim musicians and a Bengali Kayastha man, was so authentic and magical, that its later sophisticated version by Uttam Kumar (a Hindu Brahmin) was harshly rejected as ‘commercial attempt’.
As a playwright, Bhadra wrote several plays including Mess No.49, produced radio plays, directed a theatre adaptation of Sahib Bibi Gulam based on Bimal Mitra’s novel and even dramatised Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay’s novel Subarna Golak, but it was the radio programme of Mahisasuramardini that made him famous.
A biography on Bhadra, mentions how his oratorical skills were honed by the ‘loud and clear recitation’ of Shakespeare by his grandmother. It was from her that he learnt his first lessons in Sanskrit as well.
Although owing to these skills, scores of Bengalis today vouch for his version as the absolute best and the reverberations of his striking voice have echoed all over the world, this fame, however, was never translated into any substantial monetary gain.
A man who embraced a simple life, he continued his contract job with AIR for a petty salary of Rs 75 a month and did not even receive a pension when he retired in 1970.
Shockingly, on the Mahalaya day of 2006, AIR sold the copyright of the show to Saregama (HMV) and sent a cheque of Rs 50,917 to his daughter, Sujata Bhadra as royalty. Post this, Bhadra’s version became more popular owing to the burgeoning sale of copies recorded on CDs and cassette tapes.
In spite of his personal struggles, this man’s unflinching voice has inspired millions for decades. With a hair-rising quiver in his tone, he has managed to rouse a myriad of emotions- from thrill, nostalgia, fear to courage and peace- waking up generations of Bengalis to a new dawn of hope.
In a country where the study of the sciences is revered, social sciences take a backseat. Although it is important to learn about the basics of science to understand how the world works, the study of history is extremely crucial. The study of history is a great treatise on learning from the mistakes of our ancestors and to lead a quality life in contemporary times.
History gives us an insight into the lives, politics, economics, cultures, and food traditions of a particular place at a particular time. This is why historians are important because they are the gatekeepers to this plethora of information. However, more often than not, the contributions of learned historians are rarely recorded.
So, imagine the surprise when I read about Dr MH Krishna, who was an Indologist, archaeologist, and epigraphist, all at once.
Source: The Halmidi Inscription discovered by MH Krishna
The historian, born in Mysore, has various discoveries to his name which includes the ‘Halmidi Inscription’ dated 350 AD and is known to be the oldest Kannada inscription found.
In the field of numismatics, he catalogued 6000 coins, stored in the archives of the Bangalore Museum.
He also excavated the city of ‘Isila’, a Mauryan city near Brahmagiri, by discovering evidence that indicated human habitation. This concrete information was supported by relics and materials that date back to the Mauryan age. He was also responsible for discovering Shahji’s (Shivaji’s father) tomb.
Additionally, because of his knowledge and expertise, he served in various government and educational institutions pertaining to the subject of history and archaeology. For years, this man served as the Director of the Mysore Archaeological Department where he also catalogued close to 2000 inscriptions.
Here, we look at the historian’s glorious contributions that have led to a better understanding of the past and the legacy he has left.
Early life of the historian
MH Krishna was born as Mysore Hatti Krishna Iyenger on 19 August 1892 into a family that had close links with Mysore royalty. His father, Ranga Iyengar, served as the Chief Treasury to the palace while also teaching Sanskrit to the young Nalwadi Krishna Raja Wodeyar.
Source: MH Krishna, the remarkable historian from Karnataka
MH Krishna lived in the palace premises with his four siblings, his mother Lakshamma and his father. The second oldest out of the five children, he began his schooling at ‘Jayacharya Pathshala’. This was followed by studies at Wesleyan Mission High School and he ultimately joined the Maharaja College in Mysore to pursue a Bachelor of Arts degree in the year 1911.
This is where he developed an interest in archaeology, numismatics, history – subjects he went on to build his career in, later in life.
After he finished his Bachelor’s study, he began his career as a teacher in the Mysore Government Education Department and in 1916, he was appointed as a lecturer at the History Department in the University of Mysore. For his Master’s in Arts degree, he enrolled at the Madras University and passed out in 1917.
For excelling in his field of study, in 1919, he was accorded a membership to The Royal Asiatic Society, London. The society is a highly academic organisation that forays into an in-depth understanding of science, literature and the arts in Asia.
In 1920, he was deputed to cataloging the 6000 coins at the Department of Archaeology in Bangalore for his expertise in the field of numismatics and epigraphy. This expansive project was looked after (on and off) until 1931.
The most important turning point however was in 1924 when his higher education was sponsored at the University College, London. Here, under the guidance of revered British archeologist Earnest Arthur Gardiner, MH Krishna further cemented his skills in the field of studying sculptures, numismatics, epigraphy, architecture and science of excavation.
During this time, MH Krishna made good use of resources of study accessible to him at the Ashmolean Museum, British Museum, Cambridge National Museum among other notable museums across Paris and Berlin. Later, he submitted his theses on Deccan Numismatics for publication at the Royal Institute.
He was ultimately made a fellow at the Royal Numismatic Society and the Royal Anthropological Institute, both based out of London. As he gradually evolved into an expert, he was asked to deliver speeches around the themes of Indian History and Archaeology. By 1926, he had delivered about seven such lectures addressing the public. In the same year, a Doctorate of Literature was conferred upon him by the University of London.
Return to India and significant contributions
Source: The historian (bottom row, fourth from left) at the Maharaja College
In 1926, he decided to return and took charge as a lecturer at the history department in Maharaja College, Mysore. During this time, he increasingly began taking up the case for the need for further exploration in studying and understanding the history of Karnataka.
In 1928, he excavated at Chandravalli at Chitradurga and was one of the first people to use stratigraphy (the study of rock layers) to find and date the objects found at these sites. This is where he made monumental discoveries and successfully identified the ‘Isila’ city, finding relics and other remains that indicated the existence of a civilisation.
In 1932, this deep interest led to him becoming the head of the History department at the University of Mysore. A year later, he became a member of the University Senate Academic Council. His academic stature was further cemented in 1939 when he was made the Dean of Faculty of Arts at the University of Mysore.
After his return to India, he was also discharging his duties at the Department of Archaeology and in 1944, he was made the Director there. Since he was serving an esteemed position at this department, the annual reports between 1926 and 1946 were published under his guidance.
The learned man also served as an examiner at the University of Mysore, the University of Bombay, and the University of Allahabad.
He also served as a visiting interviewer for the Civil services examination.
His experience in the academic field led him to guide some big names like Jayachamarajendra Wodeyar (25th Maharaja of the Kingdom of Mysore), Dinkara Desai (poet, writer and educationist), MN Srinivas (sociologist and anthropologist), and SR Rao (archaeologist) among others.
In Karnataka, he became associated with prestigious organisations like the Kannada Sahitya Parishath and the Maharaja College Karnataka Sangha. Well sought after for his excellence, he was invited across the country to take part in several conferences hosted within the country.
Personal life and the legacy that lives on
MH Krishna married Rajamma in 1924 who passed away during childbirth. With her, the historian has two children, one boy and a girl. He decided to remarry in 1933 and had four children with Jayamma.
Other than the study of history, interestingly, the man was really into the sport of wrestling. This interest translated into him serving as the coordinator at Maharaja College Gym for close to a decade. A deeply religious man, he was a strict vegetarian and followed the teachings of the Ramakrishna Mission.
A man truly dedicated and devoted to his work, MH Krishna would work tirelessly for almost fourteen to sixteen in hours a day. He lived with high blood pressure and diabetes for years until he succumbed to a heart attack at the age of 55 on 23 December 1947.
Regardless, the humble man and his simplicity touched the hearts of his students. He was lovingly called ‘Panche-Professor’ by his students (The Dhoti-wearing Professor).
Although he wrote several papers, some of his work remained unpublished like a drama written on the life of Tipu Sultan, a study in Hoysala Architecture and some information regarding excavations at Chandravalli in Chitradurga.
His efforts in furthering the study of history in Karnataka and in India must be acknowledged and something that we must all remember him by.
Hing, or asafoetida, is a spice that can be found in virtually every kitchen across India. It is used to add taste and fragrance to many Indian dishes, both in the north and south of the country. In fact, India alone accounts for almost 40 percent of the world’s hing consumption, although some Middle-Eastern countries also use it for culinary and medicinal purposes.
But did you know that India did not grow any hing up until now? Yes, every pinch of it consumed in India is imported from Afghanistan, Iran, and Uzbekistan, at a staggering cost of almost Rs 600 crores every year.
Here are some facts about hing
Hing is a wild plant, which has never been cultivated. It grows in the hilly regions of Afghanistan and Iran.
Although India is the largest consumer of the spice, hing has always been imported and never cultivated locally.
It is known for its many medicinal properties as well — often used by naturopaths to treat kidney stones, bronchitis and even whooping cough.
It has anti-flatulent properties and therefore is given to new-mothers.
For the first time, scientists from the Centre for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR) have planted hing saplings in Himachal Pradesh’s Kwaring village in the hope that cultivation of the spice will become common practice in India.
CSIR has taken up 500 acres of land in Himachal’s Lahaul and Spiti regions to cultivate hing.
These areas have been identified because it is best known to grow in dry and cold conditions. The plant also gets irrigated mostly from melting snow.
Farmers in the region are also being trained in cultivating it and are being discouraged from using any chemicals.
Raw hing is unpalatable in its purest form because of its pungent odour and stinging flavour. It is blended with edible gum and kitchen flour to make it a useful flavouring agent.
Historical mentions
According to this report, food historian K T Achaya claims that hing finds mention in the Mahabharata as a spice for meats (The Illustrated Foods of India). Classical Roman food was certainly known to use it in stews and broths — after Alexander’s march east, post 334 BC, led to its discovery by Europeans. In India, one of the most interesting but lesser-known uses of hing is in the cuisine of the Kashmiri Pandits, who have traditionally consumed meat but not onion and garlic. Gravies such as rogan josh are spiced with hing, a predominant ingredient in Pandit cooking.
Why wasn’t hing cultivated in India until now?
Do you use a lot of hing in your cooking? Photo Source: Facebook
Dr. Shekhar Mande, Director General of Council of Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR), Delhi, says, “We began research on growing hing locally from 2016. Hing can only grow in very cold and certain geo-climatic regions such as Ladakh and Lahaul-Spiti. Before this, it was only being imported from countries like Afghanistan and Iran.”
Abhishek Purwar, a Kanpur-based importer of hing, says, “Asafoetida is like gold! It is expensive. But in India, the demand for asafoetida, just like that for gold, is always on the rise.”
If you would like to know more about this spice, do check out Marryam H Reshii’s, (food and lifestyle writer’s) rather fascinating Twitter thread on hing and its rich history. You can click here to access the thread.
On 26 October 1947, Maharaja Hari Singh, the ruler of the erstwhile princely state of Jammu and Kashmir signed the Instrument of Accession with the Government of India. Despite the official accession, the situation on the ground was in a real state of flux.
(Photo above: Left-Maqbool Sherwani, Right-Indian soldiers in the ’47 War. Source: Facebook/Wikimedia Commons)
There was an invasion by Pakistan-sponsored tribal raiders from the North-West Frontier Province (NWFP). The Indian armed forces were still days away from getting troops on the ground. At the same time, the Pakistan-sponsored raiders had already made their way to Baramulla, a mere 54 km away from Srinagar, just days before the signing of the Instrument of Accession.
If Srinagar had fallen to the tribal raiders, many commentators believe that the outcome of the 1947 war would have been very different. But it was the sacrifice of one 19-year-old political worker of the National Conference party from Baramulla, Maqbool Sherwani, ensured that the Indian armed forces had enough time to thwart the raiders.
One Hero, Many Versions
There are two popular versions of how he ensured that the raiders would not proceed to Srinagar. According to one version, Maqbool told the raiders that he would show them the way to Srinagar and led them astray. This gave the Indian Army time to land at Srinagar airport on 27 October.
Another version of the story notes that on 22 October, when the Pakistan-sponsored raiders stormed Baramulla, Maqbool thought of a ruse to put them off track. He told them that the Indian Army had already landed in Srinagar. This reportedly stalled their advance towards Srinagar. Eventually, they were intercepted by the Indian Army at Shalteng, a few kilometres outside Srinagar on 7 November and driven out altogether.
However, what’s not in question is that the raiders brutally executed him for misleading them. Sherwani was in Sumbal, which is about 35 km away from Baramulla when the Pakistan-sponsored raiders found out about his ruse and brought him back.
According to report filed by the Times of India correspondent, who visited Baramulla on 9 November, the day after the Indian Army captured the town, “the most popular local leader of the National Conference, Meer Maqbool Sherwani, went through torture for his politics and was finally bound to wooden bars and shot dead—14 bullet holes were found in his body.”
Other reports spoke of how the raiders had even posted a note on his forehead in Urdu stating, ‘He is a traitor, his punishment is death’ before nailing his body to a wooden plank. Many Indian commentators believe he is a hero who turned the tide of a 1947 war. After the raiders were driven out of Baramulla, his body was buried with full military honours. Mulk Raj Anand, the author, wrote a novella in his honour called ‘Death of a Hero’.
“To his grandchildren, my grandfather, who was Deputy Commissioner (Wazir-i-Wazarat, as the position was known then) of the district from 1948 to 1954, described Sherwani as the one man who saved Kashmir for India,” notes Amitabh Mattoo, a Professor of International Relations at Jawaharlal Nehru University, in The Hindu.
As a political worker in Baramulla for the National Conference, a party established by Sheikh Abdullah, Maqbool idolised Sheikh Abdullah and did the party’s bidding in Baramulla.
In a conversation with Scroll.in, Khaliq Parvaiz said how one day when he was sitting on a ghat by the Jhelum river in Baramulla, he saw Maqbool being chased by some rival political workers.
However, he escaped their clutches after jumping into the river and swimming to safety. Although many didn’t agree with his politics, what people agreed on was that he was “something of a hellraiser, a swashbuckling character who could impress the crowds”.
In fact, Parvaiz adds, “He did not know how to ride a bike, he learnt in three days to lead the raiders astray. Kashmiris knew he was a khatarnak [deadly] person.”
Similarly, there are stories of how he tried to disrupt a public address of Mohammed Ali Jinnah, who had arrived in Baramulla on 25 July 1944.
Margeret Bourke White, a reporter for Life magazine, who visited Baramulla in December 1947, described Maqbool as an “a sort of Robin Hood character, from the stories the townspeople told me” and portrayed him as a staunch believer of religious tolerance who sought to frustrate the raiders in their advance towards Srinagar.
In fact, according to some accounts, moments before the raiders executed him, Maqbool is believed to have shouted “Victory for the unity of Sikh, Hindus and Muslims”. In a prayer meeting later, Mahatma Gandhi recalled how Maqbool’s act “was a martyrdom of which anyone, Hindu, Sikh, Muslim or any other, would be proud [of].”
Others, however, are less charitable in their description of Maqbool. Historian Andrew Whitehead, a renowned scholar of the region, writes about his encounter with Muhammad Yusuf Saraf, a rival political activist from Baramulla, who referred to Maqbool as a “semi-literate man of about 40 years” who had become “very unpopular for his goondaism.”
“Saraf, however, acknowledged both Sherwani’s devotion to Sheikh Abdullah and the courage with which he sought to impede the lashkar advance and approached his own death,” writes Whitehead.
In fact, Saraf went on to recall events as he remembered.
“He was brought down to Baramulla and after several days of interrogation, was tied to an electric pole in the centre of the town and nails were driven into his hands and forehead. Ultimately he was shot dead. How fanatically devoted he was to his leader and basically how brave he was, maybe judged from the fact that even while he was so nailed, he continued to shout ‘Sher-e-Kashmir Zindabad’ [Long Live the Lion of Kashmir – a title for Abdullah],” said Saraf.
Whitehead recalls another encounter with Pran Nath Jalali, who had spent time in the Maharaja’s prisons with Maqbool and went on to join the National Conference militia.
“Jalali told me that Sherwani was among those who offered to go undercover into areas controlled by the tribesmen. ‘In fact, there was a list of 22 volunteers which we framed to go behind the enemy lines. [Sherwani] was one of them. But being an adventurer and a bit showy—he held public meetings village to village and rode into the enemy on a motorbike. That motorbike undid him.’ Sherwani was, as far as Jalali recalled, the only one of these behind-the-lines militia volunteers to lose his life,” writes Whitehead.
The bravery and subsequent martyrdom of Maqbool Sherwani in 1947 and the story of his role during the Pakistan-backed invasion of Kashmir needs to be mainstreamed throughout India- Prof.@amitabhmattoo.
National Symposium and Virtual Exhibition Live on the ‘Memories of #22OCT1947‘ pic.twitter.com/q17ljOjBAF
Whatever said and done, Maqbool lost his life in service of a nascent Indian nation that was still struggling to come to terms with the violence and chaos surrounding its birth. In risking his life, he significantly contributed to giving India a serious foothold in the Kashmir Valley when all seemed lost.
(Edited by Vinayak Hegde)
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James Augustus Hicky’s sojourn in India began in a rather inauspicious manner. The Irishman behind the establishment of India’s first-ever newspaper was a one-time surgeon, who arrived in Kolkata (Calcutta) back in 1776 to establish his shipping business.
Unfortunately, the shipping business fell apart. Unable to pay back the money Hicky borrowed from the banks, most of his belongings were seized, while he went to prison for a short while.
(But he did manage to squirrel away Rs 2,000 with a trusted friend. This money was eventually used to order types and construct a printing press.)
After spending a few years in prison, Hicky was released, and on January 20, 1780, he put out the first issue of the Bengal Gazette. Priced at (rather hefty) Re 1, Hicky’s Bengal Gazette initially sought to “cover everything that might be important to Calcutta, devoting many sections to politics, world news and events in India,” according to historian Andrew Otis, the author of ‘Hicky’s Bengal Gazette: The Untold Story of India’s First Newspaper.’
Suffice it to say; the newspaper was a sensation in Calcutta. Hicky and his correspondents would cover issues ranging from the poor standard of sanitation and road infrastructure in the city to corruption in the East India Company and higher echelons of society.
In the book, Otis writes about Hicky’s criticism of the Governor of Madras, Sir Thomas Rumbold, who was recalled to England to answer charges of corruption in front of the British Parliament.
“Hicky sarcastically wrote that Rumbold was a ‘great man’ for ‘only’ amassing a fortune of about £600,000 while in India, much of it from bribes and extortion. For now, this was Hicky’s only mention of corruption,” writes Otis. More importantly, he gave the city’s native poor a voice through their letters which he published, and he covered stories that mattered to them.
Take the example of the terrifying fires that engulfed the homes of poor Bengalis in the city because of the grass they used from the Hooghly to thatch their roofs. These fires would burn down thousands of homes at a time during spells of extreme heat in the dry seasons. The city’s narrow roads and unpaved streets made it near impossible to control them.
During one particularly disastrous fire in March 1780, every house from BowBazar in the north to Colinga in the east was eviscerated. “The dreadful havoc the late fire has made amongst the poor Bengalis is almost incredible,” Hicky wrote. While 190 died, another 15,000 straw houses were burned down thanks to the fire.
(Image courtesy Twitter/Prasar Bharati)
“Thousands were left homeless, with no food, water, or clothing. Even Hicky was affected. His bungalow and little outhouses in his garden had been consumed. He called for action in his newspaper, asking the rich and powerful to give food, and more importantly, shelter and clothing. He insisted the Company do something to help,” writes Otis.
In his publication, Hicky wrote a short note to the ‘Benevolent and Powerful in the city stating,
Be it known that fifteen thousand Inhabitants of Calcutta are since the late Fires in extreme Distress, their small possessions having been consumed … but a more dreadful foe awaits them, lingering Diseases, exposed to the extremes of heat and cold, destitute of clothes and dwellings, to feed them may only prolong their misery: many of our Aged have laid down content to die, and the Infants wailing in their Mothers bosoms increase the calamity beyond the power of language to describe … Ye Patrons of the Unfortunate, Exert your influence, clothe [them] and give them habitations.
However, it was his criticism of Britain’s wars in India and virulent criticism of Governor Warren Hastings that truly ticked off the East India Company establishment.
Besides reporting on the poor standard of pay and working conditions for lower-ranked European and Indian soldiers fighting for the East India Company, he also covered their wars in great detail, particularly the Battle of Polilur in September 1780, when Hyder Ali, the then ruler of Mysore, crushed the East India Company.
As Andrew Otis writes in his book,
Hicky turned against the war as death tolls mounted. The biggest turning point was the horrific Battle of Pollilur, when the king of Mysore, Hyder Ali, and his 90,000-man army ambushed one of the Company armies…The battle became butchery as the Company army was wiped off the map. Over 3,000 out of the 5,700 soldiers were killed. It was the single biggest British military defeat in India in a generation…The battle shocked Hicky and his belief that the British were superior to any enemy in India. As reports filtered in over the next few months, he learned just how disastrous the battle was, and how incompetent the Company generals had been…The battle made Hicky question why the British were fighting in India. The casualties made the war seem pointless, and he accused the Company of squandering their soldiers’ lives.
More importantly, however, he began to question notions of whether Britain was the good entity here, while the Indians were bad. Contrary to rumours that Hyder Ali’s army had massacred anyone they found after his army took Arcot, the Bengal Gazette reported how the captured soldiers were escorted to friendly territory, allowed to write letters home. Ali even had his own people delivering them.
Yet again, he never lost sight of how common citizens suffered in these wars. He wrote about the humanitarian crisis unfolding as thousands came flooding into Madras (Chennai) to escape the war, besides the famine and other human horrors that unfolded.
Hicky’s coverage of the war earned him an international audience. Many British, American and French news publications ended up reprinting his reports, often verbatim. “As the only newspaper in Asia, his gazette became an important source of information,” writes Otis.
Challenging Hastings, Freedom of Press
Unhappy with his coverage of the East India Company, a rival newspaper was established in Calcutta called the Indian Gazette in November 1780, which had the support of Governor Warren Hastings who offered them the facility of free postage for distribution.
The Indian Gazette became the Company’s mouthpiece with all the perks offered by the establishment. But Hicky took on the might of the establishment. He alleged that a senior Company official with close links to Hastings’ wife had sought a bribe. This savage expose angered Hastings and subsequently passed an order whereby the Post Office would no longer extend its facility to the Bengal Gazette.
But he wasn’t going to give up without a fight and hired 20 courier men to deliver his newspapers. Moreover, its popularity grew massively. “The next week, he started an anti-tyranny, anti-corruption, and pro-free speech campaign using his newspaper as his platform, and words as his weapons,” writes Otis.
Besides going after corrupt Company officials, Hicky also exposed the shady dealings of a corrupt Christian missionary Johann Zacharias Kiernander. Eventually, both Hastings and Kiernander sued Hicky in June 1781. Given the charges against him, Hicky was sent to prison on five counts of libel with bail set at an impossible amount.
Although Hicky had his share of wins in these legal battles, while continuing to print his newspaper where he accused the Company of stomping on his freedom of speech, he was eventually sentenced to 12 months in prison and ordered to pay a fine of Rs 2,500.
By the time 1782 came around, he had barely any money left. He applied to be recognized as a pauper so that he could hold onto his printing press and type, but the court ruled against him and seized them. This brought the brief run of the Hicky’s Bengal Gazette to an end.
Admittedly, Hicky had his faults. His views on the role of women in society, for example, were deeply troubling and he often wrote in the deeply patronising tone of Western Orientalist scholars. But thanks to his contributions, India began to take its first steps in modern journalism, a tool which would come very handy later on during the Freedom Struggle and the years following Independence.
On 1 November 2020, the world lost a treasured Gandhian in Enagu Sreenivasulu Reddy, who died at the age of 96. Known to his friends and colleagues as ES Reddy, he had fought for freedom as a young teenager against the colonial government in British India.
Subsequently, however, he travelled to the United States working for the United Nations, where he played a critical role in turning global opinion against the racist policies of South Africa’s apartheid government.
Establishing and leading the UN’s Centre Against Apartheid, he worked in close partnership with the Oliver Tambo, a preeminent leader of the African National Congress (ANC) living in exile.
Everyone in the ANC from the legendary Nelson Mandela downwards recognized how much this reserved, tall and slight Indian man had done to facilitate their struggle for justice by garnering international support.
In other words, across the span of three continents, ES Reddy had successfully fought for the principles of justice, freedom and racial equality. Following his retirement, he took on another avatar as one of the leading global scholars on Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, collecting a plethora of primary material on this revered leader of the freedom struggle.
His kind spirit allowed him to share the material he collected freely to anyone who asked.
It’s criminal how little many Indians know of ES Reddy and his work.
Early Days
Born on 1 July 1924 in a small village called Pallapalli in Andhra Pradesh, ES Reddy’s father was an entrepreneur mining and exporting mica, mostly to England, while his mother was a housewife. Living with four brothers and a sister, he lived in a deeply political household where both his parents participated in the freedom struggle.
His parents were ardent supporters of MK Gandhi. EV Narasa Reddy, his father, spent three months in prison during the early 1940s for getting involved in Gandhi’s political campaigns in Gudur town. In 1933, his mother gave all her jewellery to Gandhi when he visited Gudur during a tour to collect funds for the upliftment of the Dalit community. Through his parents, he learnt about Gandhi and his principle of Satyagraha and non-violence.
In 1939, as a young teenager, he led a youth strike on 26 January, which Indian nationalists at the time celebrated as Independence Day. Three years later, on the same day, he hoisted the national flag atop his college in Chennai, for which he was suspended.
“Well, I finished my BA in India in 1943. It was wartime [World War II], and I wanted to come abroad. I wasn’t particularly interested in going to England. Going abroad had a value in India in terms of education, especially because England was the colonial power for us. So, I thought the alternative was the United States,” Reddy said in this 2004 interview.
A year after World War II, Reddy arrived in the United States in March 1946. Initially, he had come to study in chemical engineering in Illinois but ended up pursuing his Masters’ in political science at New York University. After completing his Masters’ in 1948, he moved to Columbia University, and by the following year, he got a job working in the United Nations.
However, his interest in South Africa and their affairs had begun back in the early 1940s.
“During the war, the West, the United States and Britain, talked about four freedoms and all kinds of things, [the] Atlantic Charter (goals for the world after WWII), but it didn’t apply to India or South Africa. So there was a resurgence, a movement in South Africa…So we were very much interested in South Africa in India because a lot of Indians were there. And apart from that, Gandhi was there, [and] had struggled a long time before. So there was this memory and sentiment about South Africa. And of course, Nehru was talking about South Africa, Gandhi was talking about South Africa and so on,” says Reddy in the 2004 interview.
In New York, Reddy got involved with the Council of African Affairs, which was one of the first solidarity movements for freedom struggles in the continent working with luminaries like its president Paul Robeson and Dr WEB Du Bois, the legendary African American sociologist. In 1946, he even met a delegation led by Dr A.B Xuma, the President-General of the ANC, which included delegates of the South African Indian Congress, at the Council of African Affairs.
The delegation spoke at a UN General Assembly session, addressing the ill-treatment meted out to Indians in South Africa, an issue raised by the provisional Government of India led by Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, police brutality against the [African] miners strike and the wider struggle for racial equality.
As Reddy goes on to say in the 2004 interview, “there was a strong feeling in India which was instilled by Nehru in a sense, and Gandhi, that India’s freedom should be the beginning of freedom of all the colonies. That we have a duty to all the colonies.”
(image courtesy Facebook/1860 Heritage Centre)
United Nations & Fight Against Apartheid South Africa
On 26th May 1949, he was employed full time with the United Nations, while only a year earlier, the National Party in South Africa instituted segregationist apartheid policies. Reddy’s first job as a political affairs officer was to research events in Africa and the Middle East. This gave him further opportunity to read newspapers from South Africa.
However, Reddy’s work for racial equality and freedom South Africa didn’t take off until November 1962, when the UN General Assembly passed resolution 1761 condemning the segregationist policies of Apartheid established by the South African government.
The resolution also requested Member States of the U.N. General Assembly to break off diplomatic relations with South Africa, impose economic sanctions and establish the creation of the UN Special Committee against Apartheid. Initially, many Western nations boycotted the Special Committee because they disagreed with the resolution to boycott South Africa. But it found other allies and Reddy was appointed principal secretary.
“From 1963 to 1984 he was the U.N. official in charge of action against apartheid, first as principal secretary of the Special Committee Against Apartheid and then as director of the Centre Against Apartheid. United Nations action both legitimated and was influenced by the momentum of popular mobilization against apartheid. Reddy was probably the most consistent and influential of the U.N. officials working behind the scenes, ensuring that the United Nations not only represented governments but also helped build bridges between liberation movements and their supporters around the world,” notes South Africa History Online. He was also Assistant Secretary-General of the UN from 1983 to 1985.
From left, Assistant Secretary-General Enuga S Reddy, Centre Against Apartheid, Committee Chairman Ernest B Maycock (Barbados) and Committee Secretary Salih Araim, on 20 January 1983. (UN Photo: Yutaka Nagata/www.unmultimedia.org/photo/)
Establishing the Centre Against Apartheid under the umbrella of the UN in 1976, he organised a series of international conferences, seminars and international campaigns against the apartheid government. He also used the platform to offer scholarship and other monetary assistance to political prisoners and their families in South Africa.
Recognition for his work came from the likes of Oliver Tambo, President of the ANC between 1967 to 1991. He expressed a “profound appreciation of your work and your infectious devotion and commitment to the liberation struggle in South Africa.”
Meanwhile, at a public meeting on 19th March 1985, Sean MacBride, a Nobel Peace Prize winner and former UN Commissioner for Namibia, had this to say:
It has been my privilege to work with E.S. Reddy for close on 20 years, and I can say without fear of contradiction that there is no one at the United Nations who has done more to expose the injustices of apartheid and the illegality of the South African regime than he has. E.S. Reddy has done so with tremendous courage and ability; he dedicated his entire energy and skills to the liberation from oppression of the people of Southern Africa. He had to face many obstacles and antagonisms, coming from the Western Powers mainly, but he had the skill, courage and determination necessary to overcome the systematic overt and covert opposition to the liberation of the people of Southern Africa.
Describing his own journey, Reddy spoke of his luck in working for something he truly believed in, but also expressed the frustrations and patience involved.
“It could have been an extremely frustrating job because you are doing things, but things are getting worse in South Africa. It was never getting better. Every day it was getting worse. And things went on and on and on. But I was not frustrated. Once I remember something went wrong in the UN, and I was very frustrated, and a leader of the African National Congress was with me. He said, ‘E. S., why are you frustrated? We are not frustrated. It’s none of your business to be frustrated. We are going to win.’ So I kept that in mind,” he said in the 2004 interview.
He retired from the UN in 1985 and continued to live in New York, where he dedicated his time to editing various books and anthologies on Gandhi and the anti-Apartheid movement.
“After apartheid came to an end in the early 1990s, Reddy travelled twice to South Africa. He had come to receive awards from a grateful citizenry (one named for Tambo). But he had gifts of his own to bestow: documents from western archives about freedom-fighters that he passed on to them or their relatives. These included the Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech of the former president of the African National Congress Albert Luthuli, which he had specially kept for Luthuli’s widow who had never seen or heard it before,” writes renowned historian Ramachandra Guha, for the Financial Times.
(Amongst other honours, he was awarded the Order of the Companions of O. R. Tambo, which is granted by the President of South Africa to foreigners who have promoted South African interests and aspirations.)
In fact, Guha dedicated his book ‘Gandhi Before India’ to “ES Reddy: Indian patriot, South African democrat, friend and mentor to scholars of all nationalities.”
The legacy he leaves behind is quite immense.
His selflessness, passion for justice and unbridled desire for racial equality all over the world went well beyond international borders. It’s time we recognise this son of India for his immense contributions.
(Edited by Vinayak Hegde)
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A railway platform in Karachi awash with blood, eyes suspiciously looking for vengeance and an unrelenting confusion over clothing choice.
Manik Varadkar, born in Pakistan’s Quetta region, vividly remembers the frightening scene at the onset of winter in 1947.
It had been two months since the creation of India and Pakistan, an event that led to an eruption of sectarian violence in which millions of people desperately migrated to the side they felt safer.
The Khanolkars (Manik’s maiden surname) were one of the many families who were at the receiving end of the Partition. They had a narrow escape from a mob who had specially arrived in Quetta from Peshawar to attack the minorities.
A 15-year-old Manik stood on the station, scared and anxious, as her uncles inquired about the boat that was leaving for Bombay (now Mumbai).
“Blame it on the terrorised faces, deadly aftermath, an uncertain future or the heavy suitcases that were slipping out from my sweaty palms, I was extremely uncomfortable on that platform. All I wanted to do was get some sound sleep without waking up in the middle of the night from screams and nightmares,” Manik, now 89, tells The Better India.
Three days later, Manik and her family of doctors arrived in Bombay. From there they went to Gwalior before finally settling in Bundelkhand. In the early 1950s, she married Manohar Varadkar, a freedom fighter based in Bombay.
Life In Quetta
Manik’s house in Quetta
Manik’s grandfather, Ramji Dhonji Khanolkar was originally from Maharashtra’s Vengurla village. He was an army doctor, who was transferred to Quetta in the early 1900s. By the time he retired, the city had become his new home. He decided to stay on. He had eight children, of which most of them chose the medical profession.
Manik’s father, Vishnu Ramji Khanolkar was a surgeon, too. The entire family comprising 30 members lived in a two-storeyed mansion.
“It was an illustrious life and I had an exotic collection of traditional Maharashtrian saris. Our house was always bustling with noise and chaos,” she remembers.
Manik endured her first life-altering event when she was merely four years old. On a sweltering night in May 1935, she decided to sleep on the building terrace along with some of her cousins. At around 2 am, the entire mansion came crashing down due to a devastating earthquake.
She lost 13 members of her family including her parents, cousins, uncles and aunts, “As I emerged from the rubble, I looked for my parents until I realised they would never turn up. That jolt probably prepared me to deal with more losses that I would soon face.”
Life moved on as uncles went back to practising medicine and the children went back to school. Manik goes on to share how all the communities in the region lived in harmony for decades. It did not matter that her best friend’s name was Habiba Sayyed. They happily exchanged their traditional clothes and ate from the same plate. Little did she know that things would take a 360-degree turn in a few years.
Keeping Humanity Alive
Manik experienced the first spell of trouble in school when some young boys passed comments on forcefully getting married to them. “They said we will become their bhabhis soon if we do not cross the border. I knew very little of the political events that would eventually foreshadow the killings so I ignored their comments,” she says.
By 1945, the atmosphere turned more hostile and Manik heard stories of neighbours turning on each other on the radio and read about them in newspapers.
“Everyone only spoke about Partition. In 1946, Hindu families started migrating but we still hoped the clashes were temporary. We even contemplated going to Vengurla for some months till things returned to normalcy. But rumours about killing our family was the final straw,” says Manik.
The rumours turned out to be true and right after the Partition was officially declared, the Khanolkars moved in with their neighbour, Sayyed, for asylum. Every night was dreadful as mobs armed with guns and knives would knock Sayyed’s doors asking for family. They even burnt Manik’s house and looted everything.
“One of the nights, the mob entered the house and asked for us. The Sayyed family swore on the Quran that we had left for India just to save us. That day I saw the epitome of humanity. The decision must have been very hard and we will forever be indebted to them. They taught me that insaniyat ke aage kuch nahi. Period,” shares Manik.
When the riots subsided, the Khanolkars packed their bags to leave forever. As they stood waiting for a tonga, Manik’s friend Habiba came running towards her to say her final goodbyes. She returned the two saris that Manik had earlier gifted her, for the journey.
Manik was dressed in salwar kameez to blend in. On their way to the Quetta station, she saw a group murder a family because of their attire. Though there were screams everywhere and an expression of horror on her face, Manik silently let out a sigh for it was not her family.
Throughout their train journey from Quetta-Karachi-Bombay, Manik witnessed more horrors unfold with stone-pelting and physical assault on the passengers. Every time the train slowed down or halted, Manik prepared herself to die.
When they finally crossed Pakistan’s border, another violent group awaited them, this time from another community. Manik hurriedly draped one paithani sari over her salwar kameez to blend in. “The gift that my best friend returned, saved my life,” she exclaims.
Manik with her husband Manohar Varadkar
The family went on to open their medical practice in Bundelkhand. After completing her schooling, Manik shifted to Delhi for higher studies and stayed with another uncle, Major General Vikram Khanolkar. And at 21, Manik got married, moved to Bombay and started a new chapter.
A Family of Achievers
From her nephew being the Irish Prime Minister, her sister-in-law designing India’s highest military award – the Param Vir Chakra to her daughter Shubhada being a renowned Odishi classical dancer, Manik’s family has been scripting history in more ways than one.
“My brother-in-law, Ashik Varadkar married a UK National and their child, Leo became the PM in 2017. Meanwhile, my uncle, Maj General Vikram Khanolkar served in France during WWII. He married Eve Yvonne Maday de Maros, who later became Savitri and designed the Paramvir Chakra. And my uncle, Vasant Khanolkar, was a cancer research specialist, who built the Tata Memorial Hospital. I guess, serving the nation and its people comes naturally in our family,” says Manik.
Maj General Vikram Khanolkar with Savitri Khanolkar
Closer home, Manik’s husband, Manohar was at the forefront of the Quit India Movement in 1942 and subsequently the Samyukta Maharashtra movement to retain Bombay as the state capital.
Manik also joined the agitation and rallied alongside activists like Mrinal Gore, Kamal Desai, Pramila Dandavate and Ahilyabai Rangnekar. The rallies even landed her in the Yerwada jail for nearly a month in the 1960s, when her eldest son was just a year old.
Manik’s undying spirit to overcome odds was passed on to her kids. Her daughter, Shubhada was diagnosed with cancer at 40. Instead of giving up her dancing career, she hid her illness behind her makeup and jewellery. Chemotherapy couldn’t shake her faith and ultimately she recovered.
Shubhada Varadkar
“I am blessed to be a part of two families that have chartered their territories. I was also always encouraged to break all kinds of barriers and do what makes me happy. When I hear stories of how my mother survived the Partition and father fought for Independence, I feel proud,” Shubhada tells The Better India. Read Shubhada’s inspirational story here.
At this point, Manik has a wide smile on her face and like a doting mother quickly adds that Shubhada has been her inspiration as well.
It has been nearly 70 years since Manik has been living in Mumbai, a city which she fondly refers to as ‘karmabhoomi’. “I have lived a happy and memorable life in the city. I am blessed with three children who are settled comfortably. Four years ago, I became a great-grandmother,” she quips, excitedly, before revealing that her nightmares are now a thing of the past.
However, the unhealed memories of Partition remain raw even today. Her loyalties and love now lie with the country she inhabited but her ancestors’ homeland is something she will never forget.
Vice President-elect of the United States of America, Kamala Devi Harris, will become the first woman, the first Black person and the first Indian-American to serve in that role. Although the Vice President-elect has broken many glass ceilings along the way, she is also a product of the struggles of those who came before her.
Photo above: Dalip Singh Saund with former US President John F. Kennedy and VP Lyndon Johnson (Image Source: Twitter/Senator Dianne Feinstein)
One such person was Dalip Singh Saund, a Punjabi immigrant who 64 years ago to the month became the first person of Asian descent to be elected to the US House of Representatives. Representing California’s 29th Congressional District, he was the first Indian-American to serve in Congress and the first member of a non-Abrahamic faith to be elected to the House. He was re-elected to the office two more times with a comfortable majority in 1958 and 1960.
Like Kamala Harris, who served as an Attorney General and Senator from California, Dalip, too, made his mark in American national politics from the same state. As a Representative, he fought for farmers in southern California, civil rights and served in the prestigious House Committee on Foreign Affairs, where he planted the seeds for greater India-US relations.
Born on 20 September 1899, and raised in Chhajjalwaddi village near Amritsar, Punjab, Dalip was raised in relative prosperity to an uneducated but industrious and successful Sikh family. It was in college, while studying mathematics at the University of Punjab, where he championed the cause of Independence from the British colonialists after getting inspired by Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s ideals of nonviolence and Satyagraha.
Armed with a BSc in mathematics after the end of World War I, Dalip wanted to study in the United States after getting inspired by the writings of Abraham Lincoln. The initial plan was to study the fruit canning business for a few years before coming back to India and setting up shop. “While he waited for his passport, (Dalip) Saund worked to expand his childhood school, planted trees along the roads throughout his village, and helped establish two community banks,” notes this US House of Representatives profile.
Dalip eventually landed in New York on 27 September 1920, before moving out west for his higher studies. By the end of 1924, however, he had earned a Master’s degree and PhD in mathematics from the University of Berkeley, California. Outside the university campus, however, students of Asian descent had to put up with a lot of xenophobia. He recalled how “it was made quite evident that people from Asia—Japanese, Chinese, and Hindus—were not wanted”. But that didn’t stop him from getting involved with the local community.
Moreover, following his studies, his family informed him of how the colonial government back home had been keeping tabs on his “anti-British utterances in America”. During his studies, he had joined the Hindustani Association of America, a local civil society group of Indian immigrants, and was even elected its president. “AIl of us were ardent nationalists and we never passed up an opportunity to expound on India’s rights,” he once wrote.
Taking his family’s warnings seriously, he stayed back in the States and wrote a book titled ‘My Mother India’, which spoke of his experiences in India and critiqued British imperialism.
He soon moved to Imperial Valley in southern California, where many other Indian immigrants had settled. His first job was as a “foreman of a cotton-picking gang at a ranch belonging to some Indian friends.” After saving up some money and borrowing some from his friends, he became a farmer and entrepreneur selling lettuce.
In 1928, he married Marian Kosa, a school teacher and daughter of a close friend, and together they had a son and two daughters—Dalip Jr. Julie and Ellie. Initially, the family settled on a ranch near Westmoreland, California, although legally they couldn’t own or lease land because of a State law that prevented people of Asian descent from doing so.
During the Great Depression, farmers in the region suffered immensely. Although Dalip remained relatively unsacthed, he did suffer some unexpected losses after the economy rebounded and went into debt. He did not file for bankruptcy, but instead fought his way through. By 1953, he had enough to start his own fertiliser business.
US Vice President-Elect Kamala Harris (Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
Making a mark in politics
Besides farming, however, he was closely engaged with local politics.
By 1932, he wrote in his memoirs, “I had positively and definitely become a Democrat by outlook and conviction,” thanks to the New Deal which then President Franklin D. Roosevelt initiated to help American farmers and people out of work.
“Saund soon became a familiar figure on the local lecture circuit, speaking to California civic organisations and churches about such topics as the work of Mahatma Gandhi and the fight for Indian Independence from Britain,” notes this Pew Research Center brief.
But there was no way he could further his political activities because the US Supreme Court barred Indian Americans from citizenship in America. As per the court, a Hindu (all South Asian communities were clubbed under “Hindu” by American institutions) “is of such character and extent that the great body of our people instinctively recognise it and reject the thought of assimilation”. The same ruling had prevented him from teaching at a university.
In the early 1940s, he started to organise local efforts towards ensuring people of Indian descent living there could obtain American citizenship.
“Saund’s political career began in 1942 when he was elected President of the Indian Association of America. In this role, Saund raised funds to lobby for Congresswoman Claire Booth Luce’s bill for citizenship rights and to allow individuals of South Asian descent to become naturalised citizens,” noted a 2013 letter by a group of 14 US Congressmen from California seeking his induction into California Hall of Fame.
Finally, after much lobbying, the US Congress passed the Luce-Celler Act of 1946, which allowed South Asians to apply for admission and become naturalised US citizens. Dalip became a US citizen three and half years later on 16 December 1949. Three years later, he was elected a local judge in California.
“During his four-year judgeship [1952-56], Saund worked to institute stiff sentencing that helped clean up blighted areas of Westmorland. He earned the reputation as a firstrate legal mind, going head-to-head with more practiced attorneys. Saund’s judgeship became a huge part of his identity and served as a springboard to national office. When he ran for the House, he ran as ‘Judge Saund’,” notes the US House of Representative Profile.
After winning the nomination from the Democratic Party, he took on his Republican opponent, Jacquenline Cochran Odlum, a decorated Army pilot.
Despite heavily outspending Dalip and talking up her connections in Washington, his grassroot campaign on local issues and a firm commitment to small-scale farmers and small businesses helped him win roughly 52 per cent of the vote.
“Californians have not always been hospitable to aliens—and especially to aliens of Asian origin. In this election they ignored ancestry and considered the individual,” observed the Washington Post. Meanwhile, a local farmer told one magazine, “He’s growed cotton. He’s growed lettuce and beets. He’s worked in hay and he’s worked for wages. And he won’t let any smart aleck lawyers trick him. That’s why we sent him to Washington.”
Shortly after his first election, the New York Times described him as “a stocky, dynamic, perpetually grinning man whose walnut skin threatened to handicap him in a race conscious section where there was some informal school segregation until a couple of years ago. This evidently was more than offset by his manifest dedication to American ideals and by his articulateness…He looks like an average business man or schoolteacher, and with his serviceable ‘border Spanish’ has occasionally been mistaken for one of the Mexican-Americans numerous in the district.”
Portrait of Rep. Dalip Singh Saund. Politicians like Kamala Harris have followed in his footsteps. (Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
Serving at the House
Once elected, he served in the powerful House Committee on Foreign Affairs, which considers legislation that impacts American diplomacy. Dalip immediately found a place on the high table of American politics at a time when the US was in the middle of a Cold War. In his next two terms, he also served on the Committee on Interior and Insular Affairs.
Alongside fighting for his farmers in southern California, he also supported the 1957 Civil Rights Bill. Besides recounting his own story, he said, “No amount of sophistry or legal argument can deny the fact that in 13 counties in 1 State in the United States of America in the year 1957, not one Negro is a registered voter. Let us remove those difficulties.”
Meanwhile, in the same year, he also made his first trip back to India after 40 years. With India unwilling to take sides during the Cold War, he ventured to clear up any “misunderstanding between the people of the United States and India” and emphasised the shared democratic spirits of both countries. On 25 November 1957, both Dalip and his family landed in Kolkata and spent three weeks touring the country.
As a representative of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, he “helped to create a new realisation among thinking Indians that they have friends in the United States sincerely devoted to advancing the cause of India”, according to one reporter covering his trip. He even addressed a joint session of Parliament.
Meanwhile back home, he was also deeply critical of American foriegn policy.
During debate on the Foreign Assistance Act of 1961, he said, “That has been our mistake all along. We have been identified with the ruling classes. We have been coddling kings and dictators and protecting the status quo. The status quo for the masses of people in many lands means hunger, pestilence, and ignorance.… And we then wonder why the poor people of the underdeveloped areas of the world do not appreciate the help of Uncle Sam.” Nearly six decades later, you could use the same statement to indict American foreign policy.
His stunning career in politics, however, came to a tragic halt when during a flight from Los Angeles to Washington DC on 1 May 1962, he suffered a massive stroke. Although he won the Democratic primary for reelection, he couldn’t campaign in the battle against Republican Patrik M. Martin and lost his seat. On 22 April 1973, Dalip suffered a second stroke and passed away at his home in Hollywood, California.
The legacy he leaves behind is immense. Although some of his views on the caste system and the role of women in Indian culture were concerning, he was for the most part a trailblazer for human and civil rights and for the Asian-American community. It’s thanks to people like Dalip Saund that today Kamala Harris, Pramila Jayapal, Bobby Jindal, Nikki Haley and Tulsi Gabbard, amongst others, have a prominent place in US politics.
And there seems to be no better time than today to celebrate his remarkable life.
Among the most pivotal moments in the Indian freedom struggle was the Bardoli Satyagraha of 1928. For four months starting from February 1928, farmers from 137 villages in this 600-sq-km taluka of Surat district, Gujarat, not only challenged the British colonial administration and won but also played a part in reinvigorating the freedom struggle after the mass Non-Cooperation Movement (1920-22) fell apart.
Moreover, it would go on to pave the way for the Civil Disobedience Movement two years later highlighted by the game-changing Dandi Salt March. A truly participative and secular peasants movement guided by Sardar Vallabhai Patel and Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, the non-violent Bardoli Satyagraha laid the blueprint of what followed.
‘Fight to resist injustice’
What triggered the Bardoli Satyagraha was the erstwhile Bombay Presidency government’s decision a couple of months earlier to impose an exorbitant 30 per cent increase in land revenue assessment. This decision was taken based on the recommendation of a Provincial Civil Service officer who argued that farmers were enjoying greater prosperity in the region following the establishment of the railway line in the Tapti River Valley.
Not only did the provincial government believe that farmers in the region were more prosperous alongside an appreciable rise in land and produce prices, but also the condition of bonded and landless labourers had improved as well.
However, the bureaucratic assessment of the ground situation was very different from reality.
Despite multiple representations to the Bombay Governor, the demands of these farmers were ignored. With the government in no mood to relent, farmer representatives reached out to Sardar Patel, who in the past had prior experience of leading Satyagrahas in Kheda, Nagpur and Borsad. After listening to their demands, Patel cautioned them but also assured that the Indian National Congress would support them if they decided to take the plunge.
“I still ask you to think twice before you take the plunge. Do not derive comfort from the feeling that you have as your leader a fighter like myself. Forget me and forget my companions. Fight, if you feel that you must resist oppression and injustice. Do not take the plunge lightly. If you miserably fail, you will not rise again for several years. But if you succeed, you will have done much to lay the foundations of Swaraj,” he said.
On 4 February 1928, a day before the farmers were due to pay their first instalment of the increased tax, Patel organised a conference of farmers in Bardoli. He even wrote a letter to the Bombay Governor one more time asking him to reconsider the government’s decision, but no immediate response came forth.
The last date to pay this first instalment of tax was 15 February, after which local officials were given a free hand to seize their land and cattle. Another meeting of farmers was held in Bardoli on 12 February where they resolved not to pay the revised assessment.
Instead, they demanded that the government either appoint an independent tribunal to arrive at a fresh assessment or accept the previous amount farmers were supposed to pay.
“By repeatedly asking people if they were willing to face hardships and face the brunt of colonial anger and not be dependent on just a leadership, Patel made the Bardoli satyagraha more participative. The people became stakeholders in the agitation by this strategy. It is true that when the government targeted the most vulnerable Bania moneylenders, some of them succumbed and paid the tax. But, the movement remained united,” notes writer Nilanjan Mukhopadhyay for The Wire.
Meanwhile, he continued to inspire the farmers, instilling within them courage. In one public meeting on 23 February, he said, “Why are you so fear-stricken and inarticulate? A peasant has no need to be afraid of anything because he is a son of the soil who has worked with hard rocks, wild animals, heavy rain, biting cold, scorching heat and against so many odds.”
“During the four months of struggle, the tax-payers did not pay the revenue even at the cost of attachment of their property. They boycotted government officers, locked their houses for days together, and remained absent from farms,” writes Ghanshyam Shah in his 1974 paper published in the Contributions to Indian Sociology journal.
Although the government’s decision to raise taxes largely affected a small but dominant segment of the landed class consisting of the Patidars, Anavil Brahmins and Baniyas, besides some Muslim and Parsi landowners, the movement to challenge the administration’s new law received widespread support from the more deprived classes as well.
“The landless labourers and the tenants stood by the other agriculturists and did not cooperate with the government in the confiscation of the latter’s property,” he adds.
Moreover, the region had already become a centre of political mobilisation during the Non-Cooperation Movement with the Congress leadership choosing Bardoli to launch a “passive resistance movement” for ‘no tax payment’ against the British, says Shah.
However, following the Chauri Chaura incident of February 1922 when agitators destroyed public property and burnt alive some policemen, MK Gandhi called off the entire movement.
The ‘turning point’
Once the Non-Cooperation Movement came to an end, Bardoli continued to see the emergence of different centres propagating activities like the production of khaddar, uplifting the Dalit and other deprived communities and the enforcement of prohibition. In other words, Bardoli was well prepared for the next round of agitation in 1928.
By the time June 1928 arrived, the government had begun to run out of steam under pressure from the Satyagrahis. Even British-owned publications came out in support of the farmers, while local Gujarati publications like The Patrika published every day with a circulation of about 12,000 copies, did an effective job of not just mobilising apolitical segments of the populace, but also offered “specific instructions and directions for anticipating official moves in the localities and being prepared to oppose them”.
As a face-saver for the administration, Chunnilal Mehta, a key member of the Governor’s Council, brokered a settlement with the farmers.
He recommended a 5.7 per cent increase and following payment of this tax, land that was confiscated by the administration would be returned. Meanwhile, those who resigned from the government jobs in solidarity with the farmers would be reinstated.
Faced with total unity of the populace, the government had no option but to accept most of these recommendations. The government, however, refused to ask those who had bought the confiscated land to return them. Instead wealthy sympathizers in Bombay stepped in, bought them out and returned the land to their rightful owners. The success of the movement lay in mobilising “hitherto apolitical masses for the satyagraha against the British government through traditional organisations, institutions and beliefs, and via the linkmen of the local community”, notes Shah.
Having said that, the movement failed to address the bonded labour system and largely neglected the poor farmers. But in the words of Nilanjan Mukhopadhyay, “The Bardoli Satyagraha was a turning point in the Indian nationalist struggle and, as Subhash Chandra Bose pre-judged, it was a precursor to a larger battle that Gandhi would wage.”
(Edited by Yoshita Rao)
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Bata Shoe Organisation, in its history of 126 years, has appointed an Indian to become the Global Chief Officer. Sandeep Kataria (49), an IIT Delhi and XLRI, Jamshedpur alumnus will now take charge of the company. This news, though well-received, left many across the country with the realisation that Bata is not an Indian company.
So, here’s a little history lesson about this shoe brand.
Footwear from canvas
Bata is a family-owned business, founded in 1984, in Czechoslovakia. It was started by a man named Tomas Bata along with his siblings. To overcome his financial difficulties, Tomas decided to sew shoes from canvas instead of leather. The simple, lightweight and affordable footwear became a hit among the locals and the company began to grow.
By 1912, Bata had introduced a mechanised shoe production method, hired more than 600 workers at their factory, and employed hundreds from neighbouring villages to work out of their homes.
Following the outbreak of World War 1, the economy went into a slump, demand was at an all-time low and production had to be cut down. Tomas responded to this crisis by cutting down the price of his shoes by half. This dramatic move drove bigger sales and even allowed them to expand to other countries. In 1924, the company had 112 branches across the world and, finally, in the 1930s they set up a production unit in Kolkata, India.
Setting up of Batanagar
According to an article by Forbes, in the 1930s the Indian shoe market was dominated by Japanese imports. But, when Bata set up its production unit, in 1932, at a small village named Konnar, near Kolkata, things turned around. Within two years, the demand for Bata shoes was so high that the production site had to be doubled in size, and the region became a township, which came to be known as Batanagar.
By 1939, the company was selling 3,500 pairs of shoes every week and had nearly 4,000 employees.
Recently, in an interview with The Print, Bata India’s brand strategist — Harish Bijoor, had stated that the company designs shoes that are suitable for the Indian feet and climate conditions, which is what makes them popular.
It was in this factory that the iconic, tennis shoes were first designed and manufactured. The shoe was a very simple design made of white canvas. In an interview with Urban Eye, Charles Pignal, the fourth-generation owner of the company said that shoe’s design was manufactured even in Europe, and many customers were unaware of its Indian origin. He says, “It is always a great story to tell.”
Bata’s iconic tennis shoes.
Becoming a home brand for Indians
Those who grew up in India in the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s would have worn these at one point or another because tennis shoes were also school shoes.
In the 1980s, when Bata faced stiff competition from competitors like Khadims and Paragon it kept itself at the top of the market by going on an advertisement spree. Apart from highlighting their utility, durability, and affordability, the company also introduced catchy taglines.
Bata’s advertisement from 1963.
Their first-ever tagline was — “Beware of tetanus, even a small injury could be dangerous – so wear a shoe”, to raise awareness among the Indian subcontinent, which was earlier not accustomed to wearing shoes altogether. Another well-known tagline is “First to Bata, Then to School”.
According to Harish Bijoor, another reason for Indians to love this brand is that the name has only four letters and two syllables. He said, “Bata’s small name worked in the favor of the Indian brand and helped the company shed its international image.”
Today, India is the second-largest producer and consumer of shoes in the world and Bata, headquartered in Switzerland, remains one of the leading brands to offer comfortable yet stylish footwear at affordable prices.
“Is Bheem still alive?”’ asks Dhritrashtra after realising he had crushed a clay-statue of Bheem instead of killing him. To this, Bheem replies, “I am waiting for your blessings. If you are still angry, I will embrace you (and die).”
Wiping his tears, he adds, “…If you allow me, may I wipe the blood on your chest?”
This scene in B R Chopra’s legendary serial, Mahabharat, ends with Bheem and Dhritrashtra hugging each other amid tears of joy. The soul-stirring scene, even today, rightly resonates with millions of viewers across India. I saw my grandmother shed a tear once again when the series was aired on TV during the lockdown.
Actor Praveen Kumar Sobti effortlessly aced Bheem’s character, for which he is remembered fondly even after so many years. His aura, well-built structure and comedic timing, combined with soft-spoken and authoritative dialogues, made him one of the most loved on-screen characters.
While Praveen’s titular roles in Mahabharat and over 50 other films are well-known, many of his fans are unaware of his staggering career in sports before he entered the glamour industry.
For those uninitiated, Praveen represented India at national and international levels and won several medals at Asian and Commonwealth games. He participated in the Olympics twice.
Praveen was a well-known face in Indian athletics during the 1960s and 70s. Due to his height and build, he became a professional hammer and discus thrower. He participated and won gold medals at the 1966 and 1970 Asian Games in Hong Kong. He bagged a silver at Commonwealth Games in Kingston in 1966, as well as at the Asian Games in Tehran in 1974. He also participated in the Olympics twice in 1968 and 1972.
Making it to the international sporting event was not an easy journey for him. According to the Times of India, Praveen was in his prime when he began suffering from back problems. However, his zeal to attend the Olympics did not deter him from auditioning for trials in 1968.
He hit the record mark of 70m during the trials, a mark accomplished only by two other people in the world — a Hungarian and a Russian athlete.
However, he missed winning at the Olympics by a huge margin, finishing at the 20th position in Mexico and 26th in the following Olympics in Munich.
Becoming the ‘Dreaded’ Actor
After a successful stint in sports, Praveen turned towards acting in the 1980s. “I earned a lot of accolades in sports. Wherever I went, I got immense love. After leaving sports I still wanted to be popular and known among my fans. I wanted to be in the limelight. That’s why I opted for cinema,” he told TOI.
After doing an unnoticeable role without dialogues in Ravikant Nagaich directorial ‘Farz’, Praveen got his real break in Raksha. He played a large henchman Gorilla in a James Bond-styled movie starring veteran actor Jeetendra.
One of his notable roles was in the Amitabh Bachchan-starrer Shehanshah. He played a goon who gets punched by Bachchan right after he says, “Rishtey main toh hum tumhare baap hote hai… naam hai Shehansha.” Other movies where Praveen played similar roles include Hamse Hai Zama, Yudh, Karishma Kudrat Ka, Loha, Mohabbat ke Dushman and so on.
With these films, Praveen’s image was associated with being a“dreaded” character in Bollywood – he came to be known as a villain’s sidekick. His appearance in any scene meant a fighting sequence was about to unfold.
A life-changing opportunity came knocking in the late 80s, when his friends suggested his name for Bheem to B R Chopra. While he was the perfect fit for the role, the makers disliked his dialogue delivery. Not one to easily give up, Praveen requested Chopra to give him a week to improvise.
“I brought a Mahabharat Grantha and started practising the lines loudly in my house. There were some difficult words too and I wrote them on paper. After a week, I went on the sets and impressed everyone,” he said.
Uday Shankar, the father of Indian contemporary dance who made his mark on the global stage, has a beautiful quote which in many ways encapsulates his life’s work. “I take the help of the modern to make others understand the ancient. I take the West to the East. I take the modern art of presentation to show the spirit of India. I am a selector of truth, of beauty. Whatever is beautiful to me is real art,” he once said.
(Image above: Uday Shankar and Amala Shankar in this 1948 classic film, Kalpana. Source: Wikimedia Commons)
A Padma Vibhushan and Sangeet Natak Akademi awardee, Uday Shankar, the elder brother of famed sitarist Pandit Ravi Shankar, played a pivotal role in fusing Indian and Western culture with his unique style characterised by Indian non-classical dance forms.
These performances incorporated musical “sound images” for effect from legendary musicians like Vishnu Das Shirali and Alauddin Khan Sahab. This went much beyond the standard relationship between dance and musical accompaniment.
Hugely popular in the West through the first half of the 20th century, he was a legendary figure who forged his own path without undergoing any classical training.
Today, we celebrate his 120th birth anniversary.
Early Life, Influences
Born on 8 December 1900 in Udaipur, Rajasthan, Uday’s father, Shyamashankar Choudhury, worked for the erstwhile princely state of Jhalawar. But Uday and his three younger brothers grew up in their maternal home in Nazratpur village near Varanasi.
One of his earliest memories of dancing was thanks to his mother. Speaking to Sombhu Mitra on a Kolkata-based TV network, he recalls, “My mother used to dress me as a girl, as she did not have a daughter — and would ask me to dance. I used to perform any movements that came to me. I did not know how to dance but I did, and I am thankful to my mother for that.”
Influences also came from watching members of the Chamar caste community, who were predominantly leather workers, perform during Holi festivals, besides other folk dances. However, his talents at the time predominantly lay in painting. Such was Uday’s talent that the Maharaja of Jhalawar convinced his father to enroll him into the Sir JJ School of Art.
After finishing his diploma course there, he left for London in August 1920 to enroll into the Royal College of Art for his higher studies. Thanks to his prodigious talent in painting, he finished the five-year course in three. It was his college principal, Sir William Rothstein, who convinced Uday to immerse himself into Indian culture.
It was those innumerable hours spent at the British Museum reading about Indian painting and sculptures that finally brought him back to dancing. He was particularly fascinated by the pictures of sculptures depicting Indian gods and goddesses in a series of dance poses.
“Thus began his fascination with pictures of Indian sculptures—gods and goddesses in various dancing poses. Noting their communicative powers, he began imitating the poses. Although not a trained dancer, he did not hold himself back, as for him the images were inspiration enough to translate them into movements,” notes Ashish Mohan Khokar, a well-known art historian, biographer, art critic and scholar for Sahapedia.
When he was in college, he presented his first dance performance on 20 June 1922 organised by the League of Mercy, a British foundation founded by the Royal Charter of Queen Victoria. Titled ‘Sword Dance’, it even evoked adulation from King George V. More importantly, the legendary Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova was also in the audience.
Uday Shankar and Anna Pavlova in the famous ‘Radha-Krishna’ ballet, 1923. (Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
In search of composers and choreographers for miniature ballets she was planning on producing based on Indian themes, she found Uday. After further impressing her during a private audience where Uday reproduced poses from Indian sculpture he had seen, Pavlova took him in despite not undergoing any classical training in ballet.
As Uday told Sombhu Mitra, “I did not know ballet. Anna Pavlova saw me dancing and liked my style. She later gave me the responsibility to create something Indian — and I gave her ‘Radha Krishna’ and ‘Hindu Marriage’ which she really liked.” Both these ballets became hugely popular in the West since people there had never seen anything like this before.
Dancing with Anna and helping her choreograph multiple pieces for a year changed Uday’s life forever. It was Anna who pushed Uday into improving his Indian technique and style even though he was quite fascinated by western dance forms.
In another interview, he said, “Anna opened my eyes when she told me not to imitate the Western style as people in the West would much like to see all that was Indian in dances, characteristically connected with the Indian art.”
After a one-year stint with Anna, Uday started his own dance troupe in 1924 in Paris. But the transition away from Pavlova’s patronage proved difficult.
“Whereas the success and public acclaim during his association with Pavlova had provided assured financial and professional stability, his departure from her company left him unemployed. Without patronage for the first time in his life, Shankar was in extreme circumstances. The freedom to create was no longer a given, but a scarcely affordable luxury as the daily needs of survival encroached on his productive time,” notes scholar Ruth K. Abrahams in the journal Dance Chronicle. To make ends meet, Ruth notes that Uday danced wherever he could including the “small, noisy” and smokey cabarets.
‘Uday Shankar Ballet Troupe’, ca (1935–37). (Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
Success beckons
But these are the spaces where he established a raw connect with the audience. After the early struggles, things began to turn around for him in 1926. After working with two sisters, Adelaide and Sokie, former members of Pavlova’s troupe, he teamed up with Simonoe Bardier, a Paris-based pianist, who took up dance taking the stage name of ‘Simkie’.
“With Simkie, a new era began. Uday started choreographing newer dance pieces, both solos and duets. The partnership of Uday and Simkie soon became immensely popular and the duo was soon being invited to present numerous shows. In 1926, while touring Europe, he met Alice Boner, a Swiss painter and sculptress. Fascinated and deeply impressed by Uday’s dance, she did a series of clay models and drawings of Uday in various dance poses. They met again in 1929 in Paris and grew close. When he decided to travel back to India to seek out trained dancers and musicians for his troupe, she volunteered to accompany him. They set sail for India on 4 January 1930,” notes Ashish Mohan Khokar.
For months, Uday travelled across the length and breadth of India, covering “the Ajanta-Ellora cave paintings; the architecture of South Indian temples; the Madras art scene, apart from finding out about the Bengal masters, Odisha crafts and more,” notes Ashish.
Through his later performances, he would portray themes depicted on the Ajanta and Ellora caves, besides miniature paintings of the Rajputs and Mughals as well.
“His adaptation of European theatrical techniques to Indian dance made his art hugely popular both in India and abroad, and he is rightly credited for ushering in a new era for traditional Indian temple dances, which until then had been known for their strict interpretations, and which were also going through their own revival,” notes this profile.
After spending years in the West, he set up base back home in 1938, opening the Uday Shankar India Culture Centre in Almora to popularise classical Indian dance forms based on the recommendation of Rabindranath Tagore. Some of his early trainees here included the actor Zohra Sehgal, a young Guru Dutt and this is where he also met his future wife, Amala Shankar, a legendary dancer in her own right.
Sadly, due to a lack of funds, the centre had to shut down. Despite his disappointment, he would go onto work on his magnum opus and India’s first dance-centric film — Kalpana, in Chennai. Released in 1948, the film bombed commercially, but it was critically acclaimed. Kalpana became a reference point for many filmmakers, including Satyajit Ray.
After Kalpana, Uday once again toured the world with his troupe. Although some of the youthful energy had dissipated, the magic remained.
One such performance was ‘The Great Renunciation’ inspired by the story of Buddha in New York. Performed sometime in the 1950s towards the latter half of his career, here is what one journalist covering it had to say: “Frequently, when the curtain goes down on this ballet, one notices many members of the audience taking out their handkerchiefs to wipe away their tears. It may seem strange that in a country where the Buddha is little known, the story of his renunciation should produce a deep and moving effect and of course, the credit for the emotional expression goes to Mr. Shankar.”
The following decades saw him settle in Kolkata, training his own children Ananda and Mamata, alongside other dancers as well. He passed away on 26 September 1977, leaving behind a remarkable legacy.
“Uday Shankar’s legacy is both rich and varied. A whole new approach to dance, which was Indian without being based on any one classical style. A rare achievement at a time when most works were based on classical dances. He also gave mega productions a huge platform, on the lines of Bolshoi or Broadway,” notes Ashish Mohan Khokar for The Hindu.
As Uday once said, “More than anything else, art has no boundaries of nationality, race or creed. To create more understanding through dance as an art is the whole basis of my international performances.”
(Edited by Yoshita Rao)
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The year was 1971 and Pakistan had just surrendered the liberation war, giving birth to a new country — Bangladesh. Banking on the patriotic fervour that was all around her, a 19-year-old Meeta Shah from Bhavnagar, Gujarat, made a case to purchase a homegrown make-up item for her own by asking her father to give her Rs 5 (a big amount back in the day).
“Papa, I want to purchase a compact made by a swadeshi brand called Lakmé….. Did you know the inspiration behind the brand was Chacha Nehru?” she asked.
After about a minute of contemplation, her father willingly agreed to her request.
She added it to her piggy bank, the total amount of which had reached Rs 30, just enough to get Meeta the compact. It took her several months, numerous oil messages to her granny (one massage was equal to 25 paise) and an unimaginable dedication just for a cosmetic product.
How do I know the story you ask?
Well, she happens to be my maternal aunt who is now in her 70s. Reminiscing about her first step to buying a make-up item of her own, she tells me that she was one of the few girls in her colony who took a bold step to invest money in make-up — something that was frowned upon in the past.
But little did Meeta know she was contributing to a fully made-in-India brand — Lakmé, which found its genesis in the aftermath of India’s Independence from the British Raj to improve our unstable economy.
In 2017-2018, Lakmé, which is now owned by the Hindustan Unilever (HUL), crossed the Rs 1,000-crore mark in sales in India’s Rs 97,000 crore beauty market.
So, how did this desi brand, that has an international air about it, capture the Indian market and make cosmetics affordable for middle-income households?
It’s quite a fascinating tale.
The ‘Atmanirbhar’ India
After India attained independence, its economy was fragile. And like other industries, the Indian cosmetics market also relied heavily on international brands. The burgeoning middle and elite class was splurging on imported cosmetics and this had a direct effect on our foreign exchange reserves.
Alarmed by this, the then Prime Minister of India, Jawahar Lal Nehru, approached industrialist Jehangir Ratanji Dadabhoy Tata in 1950 to start an indigenous cosmetic brand.
The company was started as a subsidiary of Tata Oil Mills and after much deliberation, it was named ‘Lakmé’, an English derivative of the goddess of wealth and beauty — Laxmi.
Legends say that the aim behind having an exotic name was that Laxmi would not resonate with the idea of beauty, which is largely a western phenomenon.
This was at a time when notions of beauty in desi households revolved around ‘dadi ke nuskhe’ or simply just talcum powder. So, Laxmi would have been reduced to yet another local product. Interestingly, Lakmé also happens to be a French opera.
Being the purveyors of beauty and skin products, Lakmé rolled out a team of experts and researchers who gauged the requirements for an Indian skin tone. The packaging had to be elegant to be at par with the international counterparts.
Growth Of Lakmé
At a time when make-up was considered taboo in India, as only women with a ‘tainted character’ had kohl-rimmed eyes and ruby red lips, the burgeoning brand needed a strategy that would help the products make inroads across all types of households.
This is when Simone Naval Tata stepped in. The Swiss-born wife of Naval H. Tata took on the Herculean task of redefining beauty in the 1960s. Her inherent passion for elegant attires and exotic make-up brands did help in scaling the process.
“In my visits abroad I used to collect samples and give them to a chemist to benchmark. I had a very fashionable cousin in Paris…When I went to Paris and my father gave me money for dresses I did not buy them. Instead, I went to beauty parlours with my cousin to learn to do professional make-up: how to take care of skins, textures, etc. In other words, I studied cosmetics. One thing led to another. It was all an evolution,” Simone told Rediff in a 2007 interview.
Despite having the expertise and dedicated staff, the journey was not easy. Things got tricky in the ’80s when the government levied a 100 per cent excise duty on cosmetic products, including the domestically manufactured ones. This led to a drop in margins.
According to a Vogue article, Simone met the then finance minister, Dr Manmohan Singh, to solve the issue. So, he told her to bring signatures of people who felt such a high excise duty was unfair. And she did. In the succeeding Union Budget meet, the excise duty was reduced.
What Made Lakmé Acceptable
Simone was instrumental in introducing most of the Lakmé products, like mascara, face powder, lipstick, foundation creams, compacts, nail enamel, toners, and more.
Besides being affordable, the company also focussed on creating a brand image via its aggressive marketing strategies.
In fact, their very first advertisement was an amalgamation of modernity and Indianness. The brand’s first face was supermodel Shyamoli Verma, a heartthrob in the ’80s. The company wanted a familiar face in their educational campaign, which aimed at breaking the social taboo around cosmetics.
Adorned with Lakmé make-up, she played Indian musical instruments like the sitar and flute, and a tagline read — ‘If colour be to beauty what music is to mood, play on’.
After this, they leveraged India’s fandom for Bollywood beauties and roped in actresses like the ever graceful Rekha, and later, the 1994 Miss World, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, to be brand ambassadors.
Lakmé At Present
The Tatas sold Lakmé to Hindustan Unilever, the rapidly growing company in the FMCG sector in 1996. Today, the company has over 300 diverse products that are sold in more than 70 countries worldwide.
Their wide price range, starting from Rs 100 to the most expensive ones at Rs 1,000, caters to every kind of audience.
Despite the cut-throat competitions from homegrown as well as international cosmetic brands, Lakmé has managed to thrive in the industry over the years. It is probably one of those brands that have transformed society in more ways than one.
As for my aunt, Meeta, Lakmé is her go-to brand even today. Over the years she has seen it grown and accepted in society. And while many mistakenly associated the 70-year-old homegrown brand as ‘foreign’, for her, it will always be a patriotic gift.
In 1861, the erstwhile Kingdom of Sikkim and the British Empire signed the Treaty of Tumlong. This treaty effectively made the present-day Northeastern state a de facto protectorate of the British Indian government.
Their objective in bringing Sikkim under their purview was to establish a trade route into Tibet. Within the context of The Great Game against the Russian Empire, the British colonialists sought to increase their influence in the region.
Nearly three decades later, however, the British established a formal protectorate over Sikkim, which the Chinese recognised in the Anglo-Chinese Treaty of 1890. As a consequence of these events, the British assumed responsibility of the Sikkimese kingdom’s defence and external affairs, while its subjects were subject to the same protections as Indians travelling abroad and restrictions when it came to dealing in foreign exchange.
It’s within this context of growing British influence on Sikkimese affairs that Trilochan Pokhrel, a forgotten freedom fighter from the state, was born sometime in the last decade of the 19th century, according to scholars Dr. Binod Bhattarai, an Assistant Professor of sociology at Sikkim University, and his senior colleague Dr. Rajen Upadhyay.
Emulating Gandhi
Popularly known as ‘Gandhi Pokhrel’, stemming from his love of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s ideals of non-violence and Satyagraha, he was born and raised in Tareythang region of Pakyong subdivision, East Sikkim. Growing up in a rural area, Trilochen was heavily influenced by Gandhi’s actions, particularly during the Non Cooperation and Civil Disobedience movements through the early 1920s and 1930s.
However, there are no concrete historical records to ascertain his participation in these movements. His participation in the freedom struggle kicked off during the Quit India Movement of 1942, when he lived with Gandhi at Sabarmati Ashram in Gujarat and Sarvodaya Ashram in Bihar, and learned his philosophy from close quarters.
“During his stay there, Pokhrel is known to have spent his time spinning the charkha (spinning wheel) and rendering his services for the ashrams along with assisting Gandhi in his daily affairs. He had immense faith in the teachings of the simple life led by Mahatma Gandhi. It is acknowledged that late Pokhrel was highly influenced by Gandhi Ji’s teaching and his lifestyle. His contemporaries in Tareythang village inform us that he used to visit his native village donning similar clothing as the naked fakir — Gandhi,” notes Binod and Rajen in this article.
Influence of MK Gandhi can also be seen in his attire.
‘Bande Pokhrel’
There are various accounts of how during his regular visits back home, Pokhrel began propagating the boycott of British-made goods and promoting the concept of Swadeshi or indigenously made goods among the Sikkimese peasantry.
As Dr. Binod notes for East Mojo, during his leisure time Pokhrel, “used to visit local hatt-bazar (such as Rongli, Rhenock, Pakyong, Rangpo etc) and sit there with his charkha to make cotton threads”. In fact, he would even dress up as Gandhi wearing a piece of cotton dhoti and wooden slippers, and would often greet elders in his village with the ‘Bande Mataram’ salutations. This is what also got him the ‘Bande Pokhrel’ moniker.
“He used to convey the message of Vande Mataram and inculcate the spirit of Swadeshi Movement i.e. to spin and wear swadeshi cloths, to establish Khadi and village industries etc. so that the villages could be developed and income generation for the poor,” he adds.
Following Independence on 15 August 1947, Sikkim retained some semblance of its independence as India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, agreed to maintain the erstwhile kingdom’s special protectorate status. While the Sikkimese kingdom maintained internal autonomy, it let the Indian Union handle external affairs. However, things came to a head with the Chinese crackdown in the late 1950s and heavy immigration from Nepal.
Meanwhile, Pokhrel continued on his travels across India with his last visit home happening in 1957 when Nehru visited the erstwhile kingdom. As per official records, he passed away on 27 January 1969 in Purnia district, Bihar, while his descendents migrated to Assam. Only six years after his demise later did Sikkim become an official state of the Indian Union.
While official records of his life remain sparse for the most part, the Sikkimese government recognised his contributions to the Indian freedom struggle when it conferred the LD Kazi [first chief minister of Sikkim] Award for Democratic Movement during the 43rd State Celebration in May 2018. There is evidently a lot we don’t know about his life, but recognitions like these do offer hope that one day it will inspire more scholars from Sikkim to learn more about this forgotten figure of the Indian freedom struggle.
(Edited by Yoshita Rao)
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In a country with relatively few elite institutions of higher learning, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad (IIMA), Gujarat, has carved out a unique place for itself.
(Image above of Dr. Kamla Chowdhry in the middle of two students during the first convocation ceremony on 10 April, 1966 courtesy the IIMA Archives)
For many middle-class Indians looking to climb up the economic ladder, an MBA from IIMA offers a genuine stepping stone into the higher echelons of corporate India. An institution of excellence, this is the place where India’s brightest gather.
But how many know about the history of this institution, founded in 1961? Those with a cursory interest will probably point to the ‘founding fathers’, including Dr. Vikram Sarabhai, the father of India’s space programme, Jivraj Mehta, the first Chief Minister of Gujarat and Kasturbhai Lalbhai, a leading industrialist.
Going through his recent research on Dr. Chowdhry, captured in this moving tribute published in Fifty Two, one can make the argument that she was the ‘Founding Mother’ of IIMA. Without her immense contributions in the early years, the institution arguably wouldn’t exist as it does today.
Unfortunately, old-fashioned sexism prevented her from becoming the first director of the institute, but not before she left an indelible mark on the institution.
Early Life
Born on 17 December 1920 in Lahore to a Punjabi Khatri family, Kamla was raised in a household of liberal persuasion by her father Ganesh Das Kapur, a leading surgeon in the city, and her mother Lilavati Khanna, who came from a family of engineers.
“After early education at [Rabindranath] Tagore-inspired Shantiniketan in [West] Bengal, she obtained her BA in Mathematics and Philosophy at Calcutta University in 1940 and MA in Philosophy at Punjab University in 1943. In 1944-45, she taught Inter and BA classes at Mahila College, Lahore and then moved to the USA to obtain a MA in Social Psychology at Michigan University in 1946 and a PhD in Social Psychology at Michigan University in 1949,” notes this brief profile on Kamla published in the official IIMA online archives.
She was married to Indian civil service officer Khem Chaudhary, but their union was brutally cut short. In the early 1940s, Khem was murdered in his own bed while posted in Lahore. Much to her horror, Kamla woke up to find him lying dead next to her. Although the culprit was tried, convicted and given a death sentence, the event deeply traumatized her.
Battling trauma and the depression that followed, Kamla finished her MA in Philosophy from Panjab University before eventually leaving for the United States.
She came back to India in 1949 as Dr. Kamla Chowdhry after obtaining her PhD in Social Psychology, and found a job with the Ahmedabad Textile Industry Research Association (ATIRA), where she headed the Human Relations Division until 1961. Established by Dr. Sarabhai, ATIRA sought to infuse scientific research in addressing industrial problems.
Backed by a PhD in social psychology, which gave her insight into how people behave in groups, she sought to understand workers labouring in the textile mills of Ahmedabad. By closely observing their behaviour at the site, their socio-economic conditions and even what they ate, her research helped improve relations between workers and employees at these mills, while also facilitating an increase in overall productivity on the shop floor.
This research spanned nearly a decade, but by 1960, she sought opportunities outside Ahmedabad, and there were many offers that came her way. However, in his desire to keep Dr. Chowdhry in Ahmedabad, Dr. Sarabhai talked about a leadership/faculty position opening up at an upcoming institute of management (which has since come to be known as IIMA).
The institution itself was actually founded in December 1961 as part of a unique collaboration between the Government of India, Gujarat government, local industrialists in the city, Ford Foundation and the illustrious Harvard Business School (HBS).
Interestingly enough, before joining IIMA, Dr. Chowdhary spent a year at HBS as a researcher, working under Dr. Fritz Roethlisberge, a professor of human relations. As Professor Chinmay Tumbe argues in this article, her one-year stint from March 1961 onwards helped cement IIMA’s collaboration with HBS, which was important to further the former’s credentials.
“She was the first member of the IIMA faculty when she joined as Professor and Coordinator of Programmes in July 1962. Dr. Chowdhry was a member of the IIMA Society, and also the first faculty nominee to be appointed on the university’s board in 1962. She effectively ran the institute from its bungalow office in Shahibaug, Ahmedabad, for three years, taking key administrative decisions, recruiting the first set of faculty and closely coordinating with the Harvard Business School and Ford Foundation,” note the IIMA archives.
As de facto director, her biggest contribution was probably designing the Programme for Management Development aimed at company executives in 1964, which later came to be known as the Three-Tiered Programme for Management Development or the 3TP. By most accounts, it was IIMA’s first educational offering, which continues till this day.
Inspiration for the 3TP came from the Advanced Management Program (AMP) of HBS, which aimed at “men who are or soon will be in top management positions.” However, when it came to designing a course along similar contours, Dr. Chowdhry, who had attended AMP sessions in the past, understood that it had to be different in an Indian context.
She realised that any such educational offering must be “oriented towards the company rather than the individual.” Speaking to the institute’s YouTube channel, Prafull Anubhai, the author of ‘The IIMA Story’, notes, “She observed that Indian industry at that time was dominated by family businesses. Families controlled and ran these industries as if it was their domestic affair. It’s in that atmosphere that professionalism had to be inducted.”
Instead of training someone with a foreign or postgraduate degree in isolation and sending them to work for these companies directly, there was a need to create a class of individuals that could understand the language of professionalism.
Unlike the AMP, the 3TP asked companies to send executives across middle management, senior management and top management. A programme was customised for each management class that ran for anywhere between five to ten weeks.
The first edition in 1964, which was organised in Jaipur, attracted 120 participants across 40 companies, which included Dr. Vargheshe Kurien of Amul fame and legendary entrepreneur HT Parekh, the brain behind ICICI and HDFC, notes Professor Tumbe. The 3TP in some regards laid some of the groundwork for the full-time MBA programme.
After her stint as Coordinator of Programmes, she shifted her focus towards teaching and research work, laying out case studies of major Indian corporations like Unilever. She also remained a consultant with different corporations and, in March 1968, became one of the first women to be appointed as visiting faculty at HBS, which otherwise was a bastion of male supremacy.
Nonetheless, she was denied the position of director. The reasons for this denial lay in sexism prevalent in the halls of HBS that couldn’t see a competent woman. In letters between HBS professors and doctoral students tied with IIMA that Professor Tumbe documents, doubts were cast on her abilities as a teacher and administrator. In hindsight, they reek of sexism. HBS at the time did not admit women into their MBA programme.
In 1965, the institute eventually invited economist Ravi Matthai, who didn’t even have a doctoral degree at the time, to take over as director. This fracas eventually led to the breaking down of the relationship between IIMA and HBS.
Years later, in 1987, Dr. Chowdhry reflected on the issue of sexism in higher education. “I remember there was an unconscious bias against the induction of women in the faculty—there were only two or three women faculty members. This was because of Harvard, which was not known to be having any women faculty members. However, I had to fight strong battles with admissions to have more women in the PGP [MBA].”
Even after she quit IIMA in 1972 (a year after Dr. Sarabhai’s sudden passing), she continued to speak up for greater inclusion of women in the university’s MBA programme and faculty. In one such instance, she confronted JRD Tata for a job advertisement which said “women need not apply” and got this condition overturned the following year, allowing women to apply.
“She left IIMA in 1972 and continued to excel thereafter, first as an advisor for the Public Planning and Management Committee of the Ford Foundation India Office in the 1970s, and then as head of the National Wastelands Development Board under Rajiv Gandhi’s Prime-Ministership between 1985 and 1988. She was a member of the World Commission on Forestry and Sustainable Development and the World Bank’s Advisory Committee on Environment and Sustainable Development. Her research interests gradually shifted over her career from organizational behaviour to environmentalism and Gandhian thought,” notes the IIMA Archives profile on Dr. Chowdhry.
Kamla eventually passed away on 4 January 2006 at the age of 85, but her legacy remains forever etched in this institute of excellence. Dormitory 1 at IIMA, which is predominantly for women, was renamed in her honour.
More than anything else, however, she is the giant upon whose shoulders the institute stands even today.
(Edited by Divya Sethu)
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