Seven of these made it to a list: ‘Seven Wonders of the Ancient World’ — the protagonists being the Colossus of Rhodes, the Great Pyramid of Giza, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Statue of Zeus at Olympia, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, and the Lighthouse of Alexandria.

While only one of them is still standing, earthquakes and fires destroyed the other six. The Mausoleum of Halicarnauss, for instance, was struck down by successive earthquakes between the 11th and 15th century CE.

In its heyday, the monument was the tomb of Mausolus, ruler of Caria (a region in present-day Turkey). But neither the devastating remains of stone it left behind nor the clouds of dust could erase the memory of the towering marble beauty that people would once gape at in pure wonder. The mammoth facade blended the ideas of Greek architects Pythius and Satyros, with sculptures flanking its sides.

It was beauty personified.

A palace on Muktaram Babu Street in North Kolkata (previously Calcutta, the seat of the British Raj), is said to inspire the same reaction. While people have pointed out a resemblance between the Marble Palace, Kolkata, and the monument in Turkey, there isn’t any sound proof whether the latter inspired the former.

An architectural emblem

A mansion that fuses cultures. This moniker aptly describes the Marble Palace; a white beacon of serenity set against a bustling stretch of land dotted with shops and bazaars. With its neoclassical architecture rising to the skies and its manor-like gates opening up a portal into an alternate dimension — a royal one if you will — the palace is one of the best-preserved private spaces in India.

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The name borrows from the 126 types of marble that went into its making. And if that doesn’t tick the box for sheer ingenuity, the host of collections within the museum will. The history of the mansion is coloured and traces back to Raja Rajendra Mullick, a Bengali merchant.

Adopted by Nilmani Mullick who was a descendant of businessman Ramakrishna Mullick, Rajendra did not want for anything. In 1878, Lord Lytton, viceroy and governor-general, conferred him with the title ‘Raja Bahadur’. At the tender age of 16, Rajendra began building the Marble Palace, completing it by 1840. Today, the grand avenue is a testament to his love for cultures, artistic prowess, and penchant for collectables.

Grandness has its moments

Few are fortunate to be privy to the royal facades and interiors at the Marble Palace. But if you are permitted a private guided tour through the place — possible only by applying through the West Bengal Tourism Information Bureau — prepare to be stunned. The magic lies in the chiselled details. Privacy is prized at this 19th-century home, which explains the stringent rules about having visitors.

But a lucky few who have been within its chambers, speak highly of the palace’s testament to preserving culture. If you look long enough at the block of white, you’ll be able to tell the blend of different architectural styles that have gone into its design.

The neoclassical style Corinthian columns blended with fretwork verandahs and sloping roofs inspired by Chinese architecture, give way to Victorian furniture inside the home. The roof meanwhile is topped with an ornately carved French pediment. The palatial quarters boast five halls: Reception Hall, Painting Room, Sculpture Room, Billiards Room and Thakur Dalan (place of worship).

Each of these rooms bears the nostalgia of the art that Rajendra collected along his travels. He loved dabbling in it; the Bohemian goblets, French Ormulo clocks, swords from Toledo, and Venetian mirrors are proof.

When souvenirs aren’t delighting your senses, huge oil paintings will. These include Rubens’ ‘The Marriage of St Catherine’, ‘The Infant Hercules Strangling the Serpent’ by Joshua Reynolds, paintings by Raja Ravi Varma, Jan Van Goyen, and Giovanni Battista, and sculptures of Venus, Apollo, Homer, and other mythical and real figures.

It is said that the palace houses 76 rare artworks brought from Italy and Belgium in 1830, and a two-cornered biocome that is said to have been worn by Napoleon Bonaparte during his military campaigns. The originality is still debated.

Your way will be illuminated by the light bouncing off the 19th-century disco balls. The palace is a balance between grandeur and a warm place called ‘home’. But while it is the family’s touch for artefacts that draws visitors to the place, it was once the zoo that made headlines.

The Marble Palace is a palatial nineteenth-century mansion in North Kolkata at 46, Muktaram Babu Street. It is one of the best-preserved mansions of nineteenth-century Calcutta. The mansion is famous for its marble walls, floors, and sculptures, from which it derives its name.… pic.twitter.com/M7cvGln1tn

— Rupak Chattopadhyay (@RupakChatto) October 13, 2023

Magpies and golden pheasants

In an interview with Telegraph India, Hirendra Mullick — resident and curator of Marble Palace — credited Mullick’s background in botany and ornithology for creating India’s first privately-owned zoo. Called Nilmani Niketan after Rajendra Mullick’s father, the zoo was an attempt to preserve and display herbivores, owing to the family’s vegetarian diet.

Rare birds like albino peacocks, hyacinthine macaw, bird of Alexandria, trucan, hawk-headed parakeets, silver and golden pheasants, magpies, hornbills, and mute swans; long-tailed monkeys, spotted deer, barking deer, red-butt baboon, and porcupines thrived here.

As Hirendra added, “Everything is preserved to protect the glamour and glory of the tradition, history and ambience of the past. Everything is religiously followed as instructed by the founder.”

As the sunlight bathes the sweeping lawns in a yellow glow, the glint bounces off the marble marvel — a symbol of Kolkata’s still-standing royalty.

Edited by Pranita Bhat.

Sources

The past preserved in a Marble Palace by Saurajit Mazumdar, Published on 31 October 2018.

Marble Palace, Kolkata: the story behind Kolkata’s mansion of curiosities by Conde Nast Traveller, Published on 8 February 2022.

The Marble Palace in Kolkata speaks of the grandeur of the Mullicks by Saheli Mitra, Published on 3 May 2024.

The Marble Palace by Rituparna Pal, Published on 22 May.

1. When a queen sold her jewellery for her people

Ascending the throne at 26 after her husband’s untimely death was only one of the feathers in the cap of Rani Kempananjammanni of Mysuru. Solving the public’s core issues earned her the others.

While gaps in healthcare, lack of access to clean water, and sanitation problems crescendoed through her reign, she refused to be boggled down by them. Instead, she championed solutions. The rani was applauded for her ingenuity and the many projects she oversaw.

History points to one of the most important ones being the Cauvery River project which led to the generation of electricity. The Krishna Raja Sagara (KRS) dam that needed to be constructed across the river required funds and the rani fulfilled the need by selling her jewellery.

2. When free India voted for the first time

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Spanning from 25 October 1951 to 21 February 1952, free India held its first general elections. One would wonder why the four-year delay since Independence. The reason lies in the fact that during this time, India was seeing a constitutional monarchy under King George VI, with Louis Mountbatten as the Governor-General.

So, the first general elections were naturally cause for celebration. In fact, they made headlines for being the largest elections that were held in the world at the time — averaging 2,24,000 polling booths, 1,874 candidates, and 53 political parties.

These included the Indian National Congress (INC), the Communist Party of India, the Socialist Party, the Kisan Mazdoor Praja Party, and Akhil Bharatiya Hindu Mahasabha. The INC won with a thumping majority and Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru became Independent India’s first democratically elected prime minister.

3. When voting became a fundamental right

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As Chairman of the Constitution’s Drafting Committee, Dr B R Ambedkar strongly advocated for the voting rights of Indian citizens, particularly women. His advocacy was backed by the argument that voting was essential to citizenship.

At a time when women, minorities, and the poor were not trusted with the “responsibility” of such a serious task, Dr Ambedkar pushed for the ‘universal adult franchise’ — an equal right to vote for all adult citizens — to become a part of the Constitution.

He is credited with inserting Article 326 into the Constitution, which provided that elections would be held based on universal adult franchise.

4. When India rose to international fame

The talents of Pt Ravi Shankar — sitarist and composer — are told around the world. But despite his extraordinary prowess, the legend remained humble. This nature of his was underscored by an anecdote shared by his daughter Anoushka Shankar.

She recalled how her mother, Sukanya, once called the Recording Academy to inquire about making a copy of Pt Ravi Shankar’s Grammy award, as he had forgotten it at a friend’s place. This was a short while after the maestro had won his first Grammy. She was surprised when asked which particular Grammy she was referring to.

Turns out, Pt Ravi Shankar had won two! A testament to how awards never eclipsed the legend’s love for his passion.

5. When elephants flew

A stunned audience watched as a mammoth shape rose into the skies at the 1977 Republic Day Parade. It appeared to be an elephant. But a closer look would reveal that it was a helicopter.

In 1969, India started building a licensed version of the popular French Aérospatiale Alouette III. Named ‘Chetak’, a name borrowed from a warhorse belonging to the 16th century King Maharana Pratap, the colourful adaptation was complete with a swaying trunk, ears flopping, and ornately decorated fabric draped over its body. A true embuing of Indian culture getting wings.

6. When a barber saved Shivaji’s life

Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj’s life was threatened many a time during his reign. And he managed to escape each time. However, one such instance has made it to the archives for its sheer ingenuity.

In 1660, when General Siddi Johar laid siege to Panhalgad Fort, the Maharaj was trapped inside. The only option was to escape to Vishalgad through a secret passage, but he couldn’t do it without diverting the enemy’s attention.

And it was a barber Shiva Kashid who volunteered to do this. Kashid bore a striking resemblance to the Maratha leader and his appearance took the forces aback, giving Shivaji time to get away. The brave barber laid down his life for his ruler.

7. When India gave 12 villages to Pakistan

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Hussainiwala, a village near Firozpur city in Punjab was so precious to India that she was ready to give 12 villages to Pakistan in exchange for it. But why?

Do you recall the martyrs Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev, and Rajguru being hanged to death at the Lahore Central Jail on 23 March 1931? Following this gruesome act, the British transported the bodies secretly to Hussainiwala where they planned to cremate them. But the locals got wind of it and gathered at the site, forcing the British to flee. They then gave the martyrs a dignified cremation.

After the Partition of 1947, the village of Hussainiwala fell into Pakistan territory. And this is when India made the historic exchange.

8. When a Maharaja introduced 500 public libraries

Today, travelling libraries are common, and a loved concept. But over 130 years ago, they were nothing short of a marvel, a miracle if you will. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it was Maharaja Sayajirao Gaekwad III who started first-of-its-kind mobile libraries when he introduced the concept in the erstwhile Baroda state to encourage reading.

He went on to reform the state with his initiatives. An interesting story often told is how the Maharaja was a humble boy who ascended the throne because of his quick wit. In 1870, Maharaja Khanderao Gaekwad II passed away, leaving behind his widow who decided to start looking for an heir. She called the heads of the extended family of Gaekwad to Baroda deciding to screen the youngsters with a test.

When Shrimant Kashirao Gaekwad presented himself before the queen with his three sons, she asked them the purpose of their arrival. It was Gopalrao’s answer, “I have come here to rule”, that amused the queen and she made him heir to the throne. The young boy came to be known as Maharaja Sayajirao Gaekwad III.

Edited by Pranita Bhat.

These are not your ordinary fiction titles. Instead, they are retellings of the history and heritage of Kochi. Within their pages, they hold fascinating accounts of how the city evolved into its present form, backed by intriguing anecdotes. The content would leave any history buff spellbound. 

As the delivery agent rings the doorbell, he doesn’t need to wait long. A man in his thirties opens the door within seconds. It’s almost as if he were waiting impatiently for this moment! 

Enthusiasm is etched on Johann Kuruvilla’s face as he tears open the package, hungrily eyeing his next reads. 

The books find their way to a home library which already boasts over 300 books. “One can never have enough books around heritage,” smiles Johann. 

For anyone who would like to know what’s in those books — the secrets of South India and first-hand stories of the lores surrounding Fort Kochi — there are two ways. Either you ask Johann to share his reading list or you attend one of the many experiential walks organised by him and his team as part of ‘Kochi Heritage Project’. 

‘Not shy of my heritage.’

Born into Fort Kochi, a place that lies at the epicentre of coherence of histories, a love for heritage is in Johann’s blood. It is astounding how the stories that Johann treats his audience to today were born almost 520 years ago when Kochi began witnessing a saga of reigns, each leaving a lasting imprint on its culture, heritage and gastronomy. 

Through the five centuries, this unassuming city on the southern coast of India has seen a transfer of leadership. Once under Indian rule, the city saw a Portuguese influence in 1503 when the Raja of Kochi granted it to the Portuguese as a fishing village. 

Following a rule of 163 years, the city was conquered by the Dutch who ruled for 132 years before the British established their rule. In 1947, the reign came full circle, passing into Indian hands again.

For Johann, who is deeply in touch with his Indian roots, watching tourists amazed at the story of Mattancherry,  a melting pot of customs that was once a bustling site for the spice trade, or Jew Town known for its 16th century Paradesi Synagogue, or the antique shops interspersed alongside the sidewalks, is simply amusing. 

Their excitement mirrors his when he first learnt about these iconic spots. Praise him for the extensive knowledge base he has put together and Johann is adamant that there is still a great deal he hasn’t yet explored.  

Once a sales manager in the Middle East, one might ask what geared him towards heritage storytelling. “I wanted to travel,” he answers.  And so, storytelling was born out of serendipity. 

While the trip is the best part for many, for Johann it was to return home to write about it. The heritage walks were what fascinated him the most. 

“Why don’t we have something like this in Kochi?” he wondered. 

While this set the stage in Johann’s mind for the idea of heritage storytelling, the Kochi Heritage Project would take a few years to come into the picture. The gap was spent applying to storytelling positions, doing freelance travel projects, and conducting a few heritage walks around South India. 

And it was during the COVID-19 pandemic — and the hours spent reading the books he had been stacking in his home library — that Johann decided this was it. 

The past needed a future. With this motto, the Kochi Heritage Project was born as an Instagram page in August 2018.

“The idea was to document Kochi’s history — the art, culture, architecture, food, stories of places and stories of people through stories that were not available on the internet. It would take me a month of research to come up with one post,” Johann brims with nostalgia. 

But when a post did go up, it would catch eyeballs. 

Today, the Kochi Heritage Project has gone beyond being a repository with fun history tales. It is a heritage storytelling initiative tailor-made with over 12 experiences that have one goal in mind — to transform Kochi from being a “random stranger” to a “special acquaintance”. 

But where does Johann source these titbits of exclusive information from? Books, online research, conversations with experts who have PhDs in history and heritage, research papers and first-hand insights, he says.

These are some of the compelling tales Johann and his team have unearthed – 

1. The story behind Gujarathi Road 

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Also known as ‘Little Gujarat’, the area sees close to 700 Gujarati families whose ancestors migrated to the Malabar coast as far back as the 11th century and settled here for trade. “It is also said that it was a Gujarati sailor who guided Vasco da Gama to Kochiwhen he was expelled from Calicut,” shares Johann. Despite the name, the street was home to many Jains, Baniyas, and Vaishnavas. “The Gujaratis are fluent in both Gujarati and Malayalam and have been master merchants in procuring spices and goods from the locals,” Johann adds. 

2. The new map 

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If you take a closer look at the map — whose picture Johann found in an Indian Express article dated 1 November 1956 — you will find it slightly different from the present-day edition.  “This was a new map of India, which then had 14 states and 6 centrally-governed territories after adding Kerala and Karnataka,” Johann explains. 

3. A flight ticket for Rs 165  

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Johann takes special pride in telling this story. The image shows an airline ad that appeared in Kerala Bhushanam Magazine in 1952. While many know about Air India operating flights from Kochi’s old Willingdon Island Airport, Johann says very few are aware about the other airline that also ferried passengers. ‘Scindia Line’, known as and operated as ‘Air Services of India Ltd’ (ASI), was owned by the shipping company, Scindia Steam Navigation Company Ltd. 

The name bears no relation to any present political party, Johann emphasises. However, what is interesting about this story, he adds, is that the flight from Kochi to Bombay was 4.5 hours and priced at Rs 165 a ticket. “Imagine flying for this price! Of course, not taking away from the fact that this was in 1952 when even Rs 100 was a big deal!” he says.

4. Kochi — “an integral part of India” 

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The image is of an ad that appeared in The Hindu newspaper on 15 August 1947. It highlights Kochi as the first state in India to have a responsible government and was one of the first states to join the Constituent Assembly. “The essential charm of Cochin lies neither in her modernity nor in her antiquity but in the harmonious merging of the past into the present,” it reads. Backing this was Maharaja Kerala Varma Aikya Keralam Thampuran who once stated, “No word or act of mine shall usher in a day when a Cochinite finds that he has lost the right to call himself an Indian…Let us remain an integral part of India, gaining strength from India’s strength and in return giving her all the strength that a homogeneous and strong unit could give.”

5. The mystery of Saudi in Kochi 

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In 2022, the film ‘Saudi Velakka’ was released which was lauded with critical acclaim both internationally and closer to home. The film is set in a Saudi colony in Kochi. But while many believe that the history of the area has some connection to Saudi Arabia, this couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, it is a beautiful story interlinked by a landmark church, Cochin Jews, and a popular phrase still in use. Watch! 

6. Koder House 

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Reconstructed over an early nineteenth-century Portuguese mansion, the Koder House is believed to have been structured and gabled in Europe and shipped to Kochi. The patriarch, Samuel Koder, ran the Cochin Electric Company and he is credited with bringing electricity to the city. Koder was also said to be the pioneer of the Freemasons’ organisation in Kochi. The name evokes a sense of deja vu among many who have heard about its famous Friday Open Houses, the guest list of which saw the Raj literati, glitterati, ambassadors, celebrities and heads of state!

7. The Jewish Synagogue 

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“The Paradesi Synagogue in Mattancherry’s Jew Town was built on the land donated by the then Maharaja Kesava Rama Varma in 1568 by the Spanish, Dutch and Portuguese Sephardic Jews who were expelled from Iberia in 1492. They came to be known as the Paradesi Jews in India,” writes Johann. 

In 1662, the Portuguese began railing against the Paradesi Jews for siding with the Dutch and set the synagogue on fire which partially destroyed it. With the support of the Dutch, the synagogue was restored and there is an interesting anecdote of how in 1968, on the synagogue’s quatrocentennial, the then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi attended the celebrations and wished a hearty ‘mazel tov’. Pictured here is the poster of the 400th-anniversary celebrations in Mattancherry from this very day 50 years ago.

This story is especially nostalgic for Johann who shares that one of his granduncles called him up sharing how this story had struck a chord with him. “We had once volunteered at the synagogue and were part of the event,” he had said. 

As Johann comfortably moves between worlds both past and present, a conversation with him is almost like taking a trip back into history, back into a simpler world, something which I can testify to. 

Edited by Padmashree Pande

A table creaking under the weight of iftar (the fast-breaking evening meal) would signal the end of the day’s fast. Hours of abstaining from food and drink would make my friends hungry enough to devour everything in front of them, I would think. But I’d watch in awe as they elegantly took some khajoor (dates), followed by fresh fruits and then meaty snacks, and the likes. The iftar would then be washed down with a drink of roohafza (a refreshing drink made with basil seeds, fruits, herbs and flowers).

But among many other delicacies set before us, one dish reigned supreme — ‘seviyan’, a vermicelli pudding made with ghee, rice vermicelli noodles, milk, spices, and a sweetener. While it is a common guest at the iftar feast, my friend Thousif Raza explains it is its fancier cousin ‘sheer khurma’ that makes an appearance on Eid. “Sheer khurma is made with extra khoya (thickened milk) and dry fruits — a richer version of the seviyan.”

But nevertheless, the creamy concoctions are fit for kings. Once prepared for royalty, the dish reflects regional sensibilities, with each diaspora adding to it what they deem best.

The origins of the vermicelli, one of the main ingredients in seviyan, are hidden by the passage of time. Translating to ‘little worms’, these thin rice noodles have been a part of diets as far back as the 1660s. And, each cuisine has embraced a different form of it in its dishes.

An ironic coloured history

Neutral shades with hints of yellow is how a culinary aficionado would describe the vermicelli. In Italy, the vermicelli features in both sweet and savoury dishes. When mixed with tomatoes, garlic and anchovies, it makes for great spaghetti, while a 14th-century recipe highlighted how it blended well with wheat flour, almonds, eggs and sugar.

A 1770 American cookbook ‘The Art of Cookery’ spoke of how the vermicelli made an excellent meal when blended well with egg yolks and flour.

Asian cuisine embraced vermicelli and its many forms right since the Qin dynasty dating back to 221 BCE; whether as mi fen (rice noodles), or mung bean vermicelli (cellophane or glass noodles), or misua (wheat-based vermicelli).

Coming to the Indian variations of vermicelli, local lore tells us that the only way perhaps that vermicelli made its way into the subcontinent is through trade networks extending between the Middle East and India. In fact, in Egypt, the technique of frying vermicelli (she’reya) in butter or oil was prevalent. Once fried, water would be added to the fried noodles and it would be cooked with rice. A hearty meal!

An article in the Deccan Herald explores the origins of the sweet dish. Hand rolling of seviyan, which was once a traditional occupation, gained popularity during the time of the Mughal rule. In fact, it is said that Emperor Humayun ignited the love for seviyan in the court by reintroducing the Persian kurma as dum ki seviyan. But, it was Emperor Shah Jahan who was instrumental in the dish becoming its current version with spices, ghee and dry fruits. An anecdote often told is how the Emperor requested a special sunset-coloured varq (an edible foil garnishing) to accompany the seviyan. This tradition lasted until the time of Bahadur Shah Zafar who would prepare his seviyan by hand.

Once the ingredient entered India, it was local palate preferences that gave birth to the many vermicelli-based dishes that now exist.

The ‘Oxford Companion to Food’ by Alan Davidson and Tom Jaine, says the following about seviyan: The Sanskrit name for noodles is sevika, which may derive from an unrecorded word meaning thread connected with the root siv, which refers to sewing. Sev are crisp fried noodles prepared from besan (chickpea) flour. Seviyan (also seviya, sivayya, shavayi) usually refers to a sweet dish of vermicelli noodles.

Once you enter India, you are certain to get a whiff of the aromas of multiple delicious preparations which feature vermicelli as the hero ingredient. Known as shavige, semiya and sevalu, vermicelli in India takes on new avatars as we go from South to North and East to West.

No breakfast in South India is complete without an order for semiya upma (a dish made with a mixture of vermicelli and vegetables), while in the North the fuss-free namkeen seviyan (savoury vermicelli) has many fans.

But South or North, everyone concedes that there is no rival for the seviyan kheer (a vermicelli pudding made with ghee, rice vermicelli noodles, milk, spices, and a sweetener). And that brings us back to our Eid story.

History sprinkled with a dash of sweetness

Vermicelli’s entry into India was marked by every region putting its own spin on the dish. In the West, adding saffron and chopped nuts to the vermicelli is a common practice while in the North, this is substituted with khoya. In the South, coconut milk is added to get a thick consistency while those in Odisha and West Bengal prefer adding rosewater.

The way vermicelli is cooked depends upon the festive occasion too. For instance, during Raksha Bandhan, some people prepare meethe java (vermicelli pudding). The “auspicious” short noodles used in the dish are a version of the thinner, longer seviyan. 

Coming to the beloved summer drink, falooda features thicker glutinous strands of vermicelli dunked into a syrup and served with ice cream. The dessert traces back to faloodeh of Persian cuisine where the vermicelli would be made from frozen cornstarch, mixed with rose water, lime juice and pistachios. 

Within seviyan too, there are different varieties. I recall Eid feasts with friends, where half of the group preferred the flowy version of the dessert (which resembled a kheer cooked with milk), and the other half would argue that the dry version (vermicelli sweet made by frying the noodles in ghee, adding syrup and nuts) was more delicious. I belonged to the former!

Whatever your preference for seviyan, it suffices to say that the dish is not just a meal, but an emotion for many.

So, here’s a recipe for seviyan by chef Sanjeev Kapoor that you can try out this festive season.

Ingredients (serves four):

10 g vermicelli (seviyan)

3 tbsp pure ghee

1 tsp green cardamom powder

1/2 cup sugar

Method:

Step 1: Heat ghee in a kadai. 

Step 2: Break the vermicelli roughly and sauté it in the ghee till it turns golden.

Step 3: Add one and a half cups of water and green cardamom powder, and simmer it till the water gets absorbed.

Step 4: Add sugar, mix well, and cook till the sugar gets dissolved. 

Step 5: Serve hot.

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

But as anyone will affirm, a menu boasting scrumptious sweets isn’t the only draw of this dairy venture located off Mumbai’s Princess Street. It is its century-old charm and the recipe that has been passed down through the generations — that is where the magic lies.

For anyone wondering why the Parsi Dairy Farm has continued to see an unwavering customer base for over 108 years now, the proof is literally and metaphorically in the pudding. The history of the business ties back to when a young boy of 16 began delivering milk cans to homes around Kalbadevi (an old neighbourhood in Mumbai).

This wasn’t Nariman Ardeshir’s first choice of a job. Circumstances led him to it, and ambition paved the way to success. Since 1916, when Ardeshir sold his first can of milk, the journey has seen its trajectory of ups interspersed with downs.

But as the fourth generation settles down to chat with The Better India, they say challenges are a part of any business. What sets the Parsi Dairy Farm apart, however, is its recipe for dealing with adversity. The women and children have never shied away from steering the legacy forward when required.

As the cousins laugh over childhood anecdotes, stories of taking the lead in the family legacy and nostalgic memories, one thing is clear — the dairy hasn’t been just a family business, but rather a loved member that has had its own seat at the family table.

Childhood summers and hot piping jalebis

What started as a small dairy set in the winding bylanes of South Mumbai, that could only be spotted if you had a keen eye, is now one of the most easily discoverable places. And the credit goes to the vibrant palette that boasts striking pastels and modern finishes.

The dairy’s metamorphosis from the old factory look to the now spruced-up interiors made waves in September last year. But as Sarfaraz Irani (39) who heads the sales department shares, the family has always loved experimenting. “I remember once when we were kids, we had all our family members over to help us paint one of the storerooms. We wanted to make it vibrant. As a family, we all got together with paintbrushes and got the whole place to look amazing,” he shares.

Needless to say, the activity was a success then, just like the revamped interiors are now. While some of the siblings cherish these family activities, the others hold fond memories involving the mithai.

Parvana Mistry (36) who now heads operations at Parsi Dairy Farm recalls hours spent at the karkhana (factory) when she was little. Her ears would perk up at the sizzle of the sweets being prepared and her eyes would longingly watch the fresh piles of sutarfeni (an Indian speciality made with flour roasted in ghee and blended with melted sugar), eagerly awaiting her turn to taste.

“Till today when I see jalebis, it takes me back to those days,” she fondly recalls.

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Besides Parvana stood her sibling Zeenia (37) who had eyes only for the chocolate dips and butter cups. Now a brand director at Parsi Dairy Farm, Zeenia gets nostalgic as she reminiscences the “absolutely exciting” festive days at the shop.

As the day began, the siblings would line up behind the counter, their feet barely touching the floor. Their faces reflected the anticipation of spending a day catering to customers, getting the orders right, counting the cash perfectly and waving the customers goodbye (accompanied by a ‘Come again!’ that they had been taught by their parents).

The jar filled with coins, that jingled when it was moved, meant a successful day for the siblings. And the mad rush of these occasions is what the cousins lived for.

Amidst the chaos, someone would spot a cricket bat lying around. Its owner and one of the siblings Bakhtyar Irani (41) admits it was always his.

“I was the cricketer of the family. And most days I would just come to the shop because there was a children’s toy store next door, and I wanted to buy myself a cricket bat!” Forthcoming about his passion for sports, Bakhtyar, who is now Managing Director at Parsi Dairy Farm, had another favourite pastime too — watching the butter churner and the old-fashioned pasteuriser at the factory.

Speaking of old machinery, Bakhtyar adds that the farm still houses some of the ancient horse carts and carriages, as well as a Gerber that was once used to test milk and an old weighing scale that stood right behind the main entrance of the shop.

As Parvana shares their love for the last antique (“We were tiny and the scale was six times our size. We have spent hours checking our weight on it”), all the cousins agree in unison. And it is evident that though they now head different verticals at the brand, they are united by these core memories.

Humble roots, magnificent wings

A century ago if you walked into the shop, you’d spot a young Ardeshir sitting on his favourite chair and writing on a notebook that lay on the table. The family has preserved this furniture till today and continues to use it. “It’s very close to our hearts. It’s emotionally connected to us,” shares Zeenia.

While they did not get to hear stories of the business from their great-grandfather himself, the cousins heard a lot of these from their grandparents and parents. They have often marvelled at how Ardeshir gave this humble business of delivering milk a radical twist and transformed it into an empire.

“Our grandfather lost his father when he was just four years old. He watched his mother struggle to make ends meet. As she was unable to pay his fees, the school wanted to remove him,” Bakhtyar explains.

In the years to come, to make ends meet, the young Ardeshir started selling pens, pencils, books, and stationery outside the school. When World War I broke out, his lemonade was an instant hit among the soldiers. And that’s how he became a popular lad in the area. But Ardeshir’s first tryst with business came when shopkeepers in Kalbadevi began requesting him to sit at their cash counters while they went for lunch.

“There were no CCTVs back then; they needed a trusted person to count the cash,” explains Bakhtyar. Soon, in 1916, Ardeshir began delivering milk cans to households in the area. “He had only one principle in mind: just sell the purest form of milk. And it became a hit from day one. One can became two cans, two cans became 10. There was just no looking back.”

The burgeoning demand for milk led to Nariman buying stables and the rest is history, say the siblings. But despite the fame, Ardeshir never forgot his roots. Zeenia recalls walking into the store one day and observing a woman praying to the photo of Ardeshir that hung on the walls. 

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Intrigued, “Why are you praying to him?” she asked.

“When I was little, I lost my dad. My mother couldn’t afford milk anymore. But, when she came to return the coupons to your great-grandfather, he said he would supply milk to the family until her children grew up,” the woman had replied.

A sweet formula for success

If you are looking to stop by the Parsi Dairy Farm, Sarfaraz recommends you try the kulfis (traditional Indian ice cream). “They always ring a bell with me. The cool creamy and mouthwatering taste is amazing. It melts in the plate and even the basundi (thickened milk) that comes up is just amazing.”

The revamped Parsi dairy Farm also boasts a ‘Great Indian Toffee Wonderland’, which has an array of delicious sweets (earlier known as milk drops). Growing up these were Bakhtyar’s favourites and now he enjoys the fudge.

While the family prides themselves on their legacy, they mention their mothers who were founding pillars of it. “They took the reigns at a time when it wasn’t common for women to work. Our fathers also were extremely supportive of them doing this; encouraging them and helping them in whatever way that was possible,” says Zeenia.

What’s amazing about having a legacy like this, says Parvana, is that most of the sweets are older than her. “And mind you, they are still made with the same recipe as they were. We make our sweets with the same amount of delight, precision, and tradition.”

While Sarfaraz points out that this consistency is what has kept them relevant even today, the cousins emphasise that the staff who work with them are integral to the success of the family.  “Right from the senior heads of the company to the person who sweeps the floor, everybody puts in absolute effort. That’s what makes us what we are,” he says.

It seems fair to say that the Parsi Dairy Farm has been winning the hearts and palates of the city’s residents for over a century. And the love for this legendary business seems to only grow in leaps and bounds with every passing day — a testament to the legacy that Ardeshir wanted to leave behind.

Edited by Pranita Bhat.

A century ago, if you were to stop by the ‘Swadhin Bharat Hindu Hotel’ near Kolkata’s College Square, you would have encountered a compelling sight — a group of Indian freedom fighters casually sitting around the eatery, waiting for their lunch to be prepared. Among them, you’d have spotted a bespectacled man in a khaki-coloured uniform, looking impatient until a plate of puishaak-er chochchori (a Bengali-style vegetable stir fry) was laid down in front of him.

The change in expression on the man’s face would have indicated that this was exactly what he was craving. And as he begins eating, it becomes evident that the dish has found favour with him. The man is Subhas Chandra Bose, the Indian revolutionary prominently known for his role in the fight for freedom.

The dish he is feasting on is a Bengali speciality that is now a legendary pride of the Swadhin Bharat Hindu Hotel — a pice hotel where Bose frequently dined. In fact, the dish is prepared to this day, and the fact that there are no leftovers conveys the love people have for it.

The 112-year-old eatery is one among the many pice hotels in the city, the mushrooming of which is credited to the Indian freedom struggle.

The legacy of pice hotels in Kolkata

Not just among political circles, pice hotels were loved by even the working class. Interestingly, the name ‘pice’ borrows from the word ‘paisa’ considered the lowest denomination in Indian currency. The pice was a monetary unit of British India equivalent to one-quarter of an anna. The food was light on the pocket, an advantage during the peak of the Independence movement as Indians struggled with migrations, loss of business, and limited food supply.

As food historian Tanushree Bhowmik emphasised in an interview with BBC, “Pice hotels stand out as the first commercial indigenous eating places in the city. People moved from rural to urban areas as the economy shifted from agrarian to industrial, and these hotels sprung up to meet its needs.”

It is hearsay that even at a time when sustainability wasn’t the buzzword that it is today, these pice hotels were acing the game. The story goes that to keep operating costs low while continuing to maintain a profitable business, these hotels toyed with the concept of seasonal eating while prioritising fresh food.

In addition, waste was not tolerated and every part of the produce — from the bones to the peel — was used. Sometimes food would be served in banana leaves to eliminate plate costs.

The pice hotels were united in the way they displayed their menus depending on the produce that was available in the market that day. The items for the day would then make it to a board at the entrance that the guests could look at. It was an amusing sight to watch the servers rattle off the whole list from memory, despite the menu being ever-changing.

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The pice hotels of the city — Hotel Sidheshwari Ashram, Tarun Niketan Hotel, Parbati Hotel, Jagannath Ashram Hotel, and, of course, the Swadhin Bharat Hindu Hotel — were iconic in their own right and continue to retain the respect and awe of their customers.

The Swadhin Bharat Hindu Hotel

Today, not only has the crowd at the Swadhin Bharat Hindu Hotel seen a shift — from political figures to the working middle class — but also the food. New dishes have been rolled out on the menu while the taste of originals has been preserved.

Customers flocking to the hotel rave about the alu bhaja (crispy fried potato slices), macher dim er bora (fritters prepared with fish eggs), alu kumro chokha (a Bengali-style sweet pumpkin curry), chingri macher malaikari (a Bengali curry made from Tiger prawns), khashir mangsho (Bengali mutton curry), and chitol macher muitha bora (Bengali fish curry) among others.

But though popularly hailed as the ‘Swadhin Bharat Hindu Hotel’, this was not the eatery’s original name. It was called the ‘Hindu Hotel’ in 1912 when it was established by a gentleman named Mangobindo Panda. The name was changed following Independence when Panda marked the occasion by renaming the hotel ‘Swadhin Bharat Hindu Hotel’ — an ode to India’s newfound freedom.

Despite its original name, people of all faiths were welcomed at the hotel by Panda who was affectionately known as ‘Thakurmoshai’. According to an article in the digital repository by the Ministry of Culture, there was one time when a group of freedom fighters found themselves inside the hotel. In the middle of a meeting where they were discussing their retaliation against the British, there was an unexpected police raid.

The article tells of Mangobindo’s bravado as he positioned himself at the doorway, refusing to yield. He remained steadfast until the police finally retreated.

In the years leading up to this, a BBC article highlighted how a secret room was built inside the hotel with a back exit that led to a secret passageway outside. The arrangement was apt for the revolutionaries who would often discuss their plans at the hotel and want to escape when a police van approached.

“My grandfather was always supportive of the freedom fighters,” says the current owner Arunanghshu Panda.

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Sharing how Bose favoured this eatery over the rest of the pice hotels, he says, “My grandfather belongs to Cuttack in Odisha where Bose was born too. That’s how when my grandfather started the ‘Hindu Hotel’, Bose, who was studying at Presidency College in 1916, began visiting and my grandfather used to serve him. I have seen and heard stories of how my grandfather was involved in the Independence fight. Many times, the freedom fighters would stop by, and he would cook a meal for them.”

The article in the digital repository also highlighted an incident in 1930 when Subhas Chandra Bose and fellow freedom fighters visited the hotel and raised spirited slogans like ‘Jai Hind’ and ‘Vande Mataram’, and Panda enthusiastically joined in. It sheds light on Mangobindo’s generosity as he provided food to hundreds of those who were starving during the Bengal famine of 1943.

Amidst these, Arunangshu has heard many stories of how Bose loved the puishaak-er chochchori and murighanta (a Bengali fish delicacy).

As the day begins in the City of Joy, the first trickle of guests begins to enter the Swadhin Bharat Hindu Hotel, which is carrying the baton of its legacy forward, not just in its food but in the tales that every guest is treated to.

Edited by Pranita Bhat.

This Republic Day, in a celebration of India’s diverse and rich cultural heritage, the Ministry of Culture brings forth ‘Ananta Sutra’ — an initiative that breathes life into the timeless elegance of the sari. It invites us to explore the intricate threads of tradition, creativity, inclusivity, and unity that define the essence of India.

The textile installation will be showcased at Kartavya Path where over 1,900 saris and drapes from every corner of the country will ensemble in a beautiful array on wooden frames. Right from the luxurious Kanjeevarams and artistic Jamdanis to the breathtaking Patolas and geometric Ikkats, viewers will have a chance to feast their eyes on weaves that have been brought from the length and breadth of Bharat.

The display is an ode to the weavers and artists who have tirelessly created these exquisite drapes by pouring their passion into the warp and weft, keeping the age-old handloom tradition alive.

A dual cause for celebration is that the 2024 Republic Day Parade will witness the participation of two all-women contingents from the defence forces — with Captain Sandhya leading the all-women tri-services contingent, consisting of 148 members. This marks a significant milestone.

A touch of creativity and inclusivity

One of the most remarkable aspects of Ananta Sutra is its commitment to inclusivity by showcasing a sari crafted by autistic children. This not only reflects the boundless creativity of these young artists but also serves as a powerful testament to the ability of art to connect hearts and minds. It serves as a reminder that creativity knows no boundaries, and through art, we can bridge gaps and foster inclusivity.

A glimpse into history: The 150-year-old sari

The Ananta Sutra initiative also pays homage to history with the presentation of a 150-year-old sari — an exquisite piece of fabric that has witnessed generations of grace and beauty, serving as a symbol of the enduring legacy. It reminds us that traditions bridge the past and the present, connecting us to our roots while allowing us to evolve.

Unity in diversity: 30 weaves representing India

At the heart of Ananta Sutra lies the representation of unity in diversity. The initiative features 30 weaves from different corners of India — each a testament to its region’s unique traditions and artistry. These weaves, like threads from different regions, are intricately intertwined to craft a beautiful sari, highlighting the remarkable diversity and harmony that define India.

Just as the threads in a sari come together to create a masterpiece, these weaves symbolise the strength of unity that binds our nation.

Among the esteemed weavers featured in Ananta Sutra are:

– Hatsimla Tant Silpi Sambay Samity Ltd, District Burdwan

– Zahin M Qureshi, Chanderi

– Vankar Hitesh Dayala, Bhujodi

– Abdul Kaleem, Chanderi

– Mhalo Ezung, Tsumang Colony, Wokha, Nagaland

– Manipuri Handloom Products, Imphal West

– JK Handloom & Textile Produce Co Ltd, Barpeta

– Sainath Telia Rumal, Koyyalagudem

– Godoo Shawls Industries, Srinagar

– Uttara Rural Handloom, Dehradun

– Maharashtra Small Scale Industries Development Corporation

– Charkha Swayam Sahayta Samuh, Kinnaur

– Hira Enterprise, Gawahati

– Brinda Patola Art, Surendranagar

– Saree Speaks, Kunbi

– Suvarna Lakshmi Handlooms, Mangalgiri

– Dani Dasspub Saransa Silphukasri, Kamrup Metro, Gauhati

– Pachan Vankar, Bhujodi

– Ruhani Suf Embroidery, Luxmi Puwar

– Gadhwal Weavers Society, Ramgopal

– Hathkargha Self Help Group, Dehradun

– Aisha Shekhawati Bandhni and Shibori, Churu

– Purbashree Emporium, Bab Kharksingh Marg

– Choudhary Weave Crafts Co., Bhagalpur

– Orissa Handloom Ikkat Tie and Dye

– Apna Fab, Chander

– Shalom Welfare Society (Toda), Sheela Powel

– Sooji Daarada Mane (Lambani), Nirmala

The initiative is a reminder that in the rich tapestry of India’s cultural heritage, every thread, every weave, and every creative expression plays a vital role. It is where tradition meets innovation, and where threads connect hearts. It isn’t simply a celebration of the sari but also an event that encapsulates the spirit of India — where tradition, creativity, inclusivity, and unity come together in a magnificent tapestry of our rich heritage.

This Republic Day, let’s celebrate the diversity that makes us unique and the unity that makes us one.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

Guha listed Sardar Vallabhai Patel, who as home minister between 1947 and 1950, carried out the integration of the princely states, “thus altering the politics and geography of modern India”. Next, he listed Manmohan Singh, who as finance minister between 1991 and 1996, “dismantled the licence-permit-quota-raj, thus altering the economy and society of modern India”.

After Vallabhai Patel and Manmohan Singh, Guha listed the name of Madhu Dandavate — a physicist, freedom fighter, and socialist leader from Maharashtra — who as railway minister in the Janata Government between 1977 and 1979 “put two inches of foam on what passed for ‘reserved sleeper berths’ in the second-class sections of trains”. Although a simple intervention, this initiative had a profound influence on the lives of millions of ordinary Indians.

As Guha argued, “Before 1977 (the year Dandavate became railway minister), there was an enormous difference between the first-class, where the berths were padded, and the second-class, where they were made of hard and bare wood.”

“If you were lucky enough to travel up front, you slept well; otherwise you woke up with a painful back and (were it winter) a cold in the head as well,” he added.

Today, the Indian Railways carries approximately 23 million passengers daily from nearly all strata of society. Dandavate’s decision to introduce these two inches of foam was driven by a desire to assist the country’s poor in a practical way. As he once famously argued, “What I want to do is not degrade the first class, but elevate the second class”.

As railway minister for those two years, those two inches of foam were put in place across the major trunk lines. The first train with these safer and more comfortable seats was flagged off on 26 December, 1977, between Mumbai and Kolkata (and back). Even though the Railway Board wanted to call this train the Eastern Express, Dandavate decided on the name Gitanjali Express, inspired by Rabindranath Tagore. The train even had portraits of the Bengali poet hung inside it.

As Guha wrote, “Once the process was begun it could scarcely be stopped. By the end of the 1980s, all trains of the Indian Railways had these padded berths in their second-class compartments. By now the change has helped hundreds of millions of people. If a social history of the Indian Railways is ever written, it might be divided into two parts, these entitled ‘Life before Dandavate’ and ‘Life after Dandavate’.”

Besides this initiative, he also introduced the computerisation of railway reservations “to curb corruption” and “streamline the procedures”. As he noted in his Railway Budget speech for 1978-79, “To streamline the mammoth and complex operation involved in the matter of reservation of rail accommodation in trains and to eliminate malpractices, I am also considering computerisation of passenger reservations in the four metropolitan cities.”

He also repaired the relationship between the Indian Government and railway unions that had suffered during the strike of 1974 and was suppressed by the Indira Gandhi Government.

A man of his time and ahead of his time, Dandavate lived a remarkable life in the public eye.

Inspired by Gandhi

Born on 21 January, 1924, in Ahmednagar, Dandavate completed his MSc in Physics from the Royal Institute of Science, Mumbai, following which he went on to head the physics department at Siddhartha College of Arts and Sciences, Mumbai. His entry into politics, however, was inspired by Mahatma Gandhi during the tumultuous Quit India Movement in 1942.

“As a young college student, I was present at the Gowalia Tank Maidan (August Kranti Maidan), in Bombay on the morning of 9 August, 1942, because it was announced that the national flag would be unfurled there,” wrote Dandavate in his book ‘Dialogue with Life’.

On the previous two days, the All India Congress Committee (AICC) held a session at this very venue where Mahatma Gandhi had issued the clarion call for ‘Quit India’.

“I was in the Royal Institute of Science. I heard the speech delivered by Mahatma Gandhi at the Congress session in 1942. I was in college when the call given to the people was ‘Do or Die’ and the warning given to the British was ‘Quit India’,” wrote the Independence activist.

“Mahatma Gandhi wanted his message to be heard all over the world, so he delivered his speech both in Hindi and English. I was present as a visitor in that session and was deeply moved and inspired by its proceedings,” he added.

Beyond Gandhi, however, he was also deeply inspired by the ideals of the Congress Socialist Party. Its leaders — including the likes of Jayaprakash Narayan, Ram Manohar Lohia, and Yusuf Meherally — played a pivotal role in shaping his politics.

Following Independence, these socialist leaders quit the parent Congress party, providing a strong and principled opposition to Jawaharlal Nehru. Dandavate followed their lead in this regard.

Satyagraha for the Liberation of Goa

Although Goa was freed from the clutches of Portuguese colonial rule and joined the Indian union only on 19 December, 1961 (following military action by the Indian Army), many leaders — including the likes of Dandavate — performed courageous acts of Satyagraha marked by nonviolent protests to put pressure on the Indian Government to act.

As secretary of the Goa Vimochan Sahayak Samiti (Goa Liberation Aid Committee) in Mumbai, he bravely led a group of 93 people to launch a Satyagraha at Netarda (a small village on the border of Goa) and paid a pretty heavy price for it.

As he wrote in his book ‘Dialogue with Life, “Normally when the Satyagraha was announced, the police were posted on the border, but we walked about 7-8 miles beyond the Portuguese border, raising slogans. I had the national tricolour flag in my hand.”

“The Portuguese police came. They were well-armed. We were stopped. I was in the front and was asked to hand over the flag. I refused to do so. We had come here to hoist this flag in the Goan territory, and I would not surrender it. They beat me and after an intense struggle, they took away the flag. We were asked to return but we did not budge,” he added.

Backed by slogans like ‘Nahin, nahin, Kabhi nahin, Bharat Goa alag nahin’ and ‘Lathi, goli khayenge, phir bhi Goa jayenge’, he took on the might of the Portuguese colonial police as they began a lathi charge on all satyagrahis and beat them with the butts of their rifles.

“They beat me till I fell unconscious. Strangely enough, even after I became unconscious, they trampled on my back with their military shoes. After a while, my colleagues took me to the Military Hospital at Belgaum and then to Bombay. They found that my hip joints were injured very badly and I had to be given infrared rays for that injury. My strong young bones could take the torture then, but later on, after many years, it was diagnosed that my hip joints had totally degenerated and the replacement of these joints with metallic plates and rods was the only solution. At present I have two stainless steel plates and two metallic rods in my body,” he wrote.

It was really a brutal episode as far as police action is concerned. In the past, the police would usually just arrest the satyagrahis and take them to jail. But the satyagrahis made their point.

Writing on the impact of this Satyagraha action, he noted, “I feel proud to say that it did generate a climate to pressurise the Indian Government leading to the military action to liberate Goa. There was hardly any resistance during the military action. My feeling is if this military action had been taken earlier, there would not have been so much sacrifice and death. Our Satyagraha in 1955 did create a spirit of resistance against Portuguese rule in Goa.”

Taking on Indira Gandhi’s Emergency

Like many of his socialist peers, Dandavate challenged the Indira Gandhi administration’s proclamation of Emergency (1975 to 1977) — a dark period in our history marked by the usurping of basic civil rights and democracy — and served many stints in prison as a result.

Witnessing the inhuman treatment meted out to political prisoners, particularly his colleague and socialist leader Mrinal Gore, Dandavate shot off a letter to Indira Gandhi from prison.

“I am quite conscious of the consequences of this letter. I can well imagine that through this communication, I am likely to incur your wrath and get my detention prolonged. However, I feel least worried about it. I will remain completely undeterred even if the prison yard from which I write this letter were to become my graveyard,” wrote Madhu Dandavate in a letter dated 14 January, 1976, to the then prime minister Indira Gandhi during the Emergency.

He signed off this scathing letter to the then-prime minister by declaring his undying will to resist. “Rest assured that in this land of Mahatma Gandhi, my will to fight for freedom will ever remain more powerful than the engine of repression that seeks to suppress it,” he wrote.

Dandavate, however, is also famously known for his series of letters from jail to his wife Pramila, a legendary socialist activist in her own right, who was also imprisoned during the Emergency.

After nearly 23 years of marriage, the couple were suddenly split apart by a distance of over 800 km. As products of the freedom struggle, avowed socialists and seasoned activists, the Government arrested Dandavate on 26 June, 1975, and subsequently picked up Pramila on 17 July, 1975.

During their time in prison, the only way they could correspond was through letters. The couple exchanged nearly 200 letters, where they discussed, among other things, music, poetry, books, philosophy and politics. More importantly, however, their letters were a testament to how the love they shared for each other translated into resistance against an authoritarian regime.

“The letters register the pain of separation as well as how they worked through it to reaffirm their emotional bond by restating their commitment to freedom….They loved each other because they loved freedom. Their love also enriched and extended the meaning of freedom,” wrote scholar Gyan Prakash in Emergency Chronicles: Indira Gandhi and Democracy’s Turning Point.

Leaving behind a legacy

Dandavate had a long and remarkable career in politics — serving as a five-time Member of Parliament from the Rajapur constituency of Maharashtra, finance minister in the VP Singh government (1989-90), and deputy chairman of the erstwhile Planning Commission in 1990, and again from 1996 to 1998. His parliamentary career came to an end after losing to a Congress candidate in 1991, following which he slowly moved away from national politics.

After battling cancer for a protracted period, Dandavate passed away in Mumbai on 12 November, 2005, at age 81. As per his wishes, his body was donated to the city’s JJ Hospital. 

From fighting for India’s freedom to Goa’s liberation from the Portuguese and impacting the lives of millions as a union minister and parliamentarian, Dandavate represented the best of us.

(Edited by Pranita Bhat; Images courtesy X/Asia Society India Centre and loksabha.nic.in and Shutterstock)

Sources:

‘Two Inches of Foam’ by Ramachandra Guha, Published on 20 November 2005 by The Hindu

‘Dialogue with Life’ by Madhu Dandavate; Published on 11 March 2005 by Allied Publishers

‘Speech of Prof. Madhu Dandavate Introducing the Railway Budget for 1978-79, on 21st February 1978’ courtesy Indian Railways

‘A moral compass’ by Ramachandra Guha; Published on 13 January 2024 courtesy The Telegraph (online)

‘Emergency Chronicles: Indira Gandhi and Democracy’s Turning Point’ by Gyan Prakash; Published on 28 November 2018 courtesy Penguin Viking

On the morning of 23 October, 1967, a milkman on his usual rounds came to deliver milk at the residence of Muhamed Siddique Choonawala — a local businessman and managing director of M/S Car Mart — at the ‘Temple View’ building on Hughes Road in Gamdevi, Bombay [Mumbai].

Despite knocking on his door many times, there was no response. Busy with his rounds, the milkman left the milk to a neighbour. After some time, Usman, the watchman of Choonawala’s M/S Car Mart, came to deliver milk bottles at his residence. Once again, he rang the bell but no response was forthcoming. Meanwhile, the cook Sayed Ahmed, who was sleeping in the common passage, woke up and saw smoke coming out of the windows of the flat.

As Mumbai-based journalist, author and local historian Dhaval Kulkarni notes in his recent thread on X (Twitter), “The main door of the flat was slightly ajar and he went in with Usman. They saw fire in the passage leading to the kitchen. This fire in newspapers and clothes was doused using buckets of water. Once the fire subsided, they were terrified to see human legs under the newspapers in a scorched condition. The watchman ran to the nearby Gamdevi police station and informed PSI (Police Sub-Inspector) Shivaji Deshmukh, who was on duty.”

What followed was a gory quadruple murder case, the first in the then Bombay, and a remarkable investigation led by Bombay Police [now Mumbai Police] CID deputy commissioner Vaidyanath Someshwar Sami, the father of legendary singer Usha Uthup.

Popularly known as the Bombay Police’s ‘Sherlock Holmes’, Vaidyanath Sami and his officers caught the culprits of his horrific crime using the laundry mark (tag) of burnt pieces of clothing found at the scene of this horrific crime.

Here’s how they solved this case.

Finding the laundry mark

Here’s how Dhaval describes the crime scene, “Deshmukh and his team rushed to the scene and observed that the gas pipe in the kitchen was loose. He hence went to the kitchen and closed the gas connection. He found four bodies in the flat with multiple stab wounds.”

“The bodies had been covered with newspapers and clothes, and it appeared that an attempt was made to set fire to the bodies and the flat as well by opening the gas pipe. The bedroom was ransacked, and cash and jewels were missing,” he goes on to add.

The victims were Choonawala, his wife Roshan, four-year-old grandson Shajitkhan [ also spelled Sajid Khan], and their house help Annie Fernandes. All four of the victims were stabbed to death.

According to The Queen of Indian Pop: The Authorised Biography of Usha Uthup — written by Vikram Kumar Jha and translated by Srishti Jha, “[Mohammad Siddiqui] Chunawala was a big businessman and his murder had put the Gamdevi Police Station in a deep shock. Curfew was enforced in the area under the police station’s jurisdiction. Ultimately, seeing no developments in this puzzling murder case, the inspector of the Gamdevi Police Station called [DCP] Vaidyanath Sami and communicated the gravity of the situation. He requested the latter to help in the investigation.” [*both the ‘Choonawala’ and ‘Chunawala‘ spellings have been used to describe the businessman murdered in this case*] 

Following this request, DCP Vaidyanath dispatched his officers to the scene.

The evidence:
Soon, officers of the Mumbai Police CID-Crime or the Crime branch like inspector Vinayak Vakatkar, and sub-inspectors Tatyasaheb Goud and Ramchandra Dudhat arrived at the scene. They came to know that on the previous day, Choonawala had returned home from Radio Club… pic.twitter.com/zQjVJqsQzd

— Dhaval Kulkarni (धवल कुलकर्णी) ?? (@dhavalkulkarni) January 10, 2024

Vinayak Vakatkar was a legendary officer in the Bombay Police crime branch. His cases and investigations made it to the newspapers and the works of local crime writers. Vakatkar eventually retired as an assistant commissioner of police. PSI Tatyasaheb Gaud retired as an ACP. An ace investigator with the Bombay Police, he was also a prolific writer in Marathi.

In establishing the sequence of events preceding the murder, they found that on the day of the murder, Choonawala had come back from the Radio Club at Colaba with his wife and grandson around 9 pm, and about half an hour later, they had their dinner. However, as they were scanning the crime scene, the officers found something that caught their attention.

As Dhaval explains, “The officers found a blood-stained shirt under the bed. It had the laundry mark AI Z with some letters before Z being cut. Another cloth found in the flat had the AI SBH laundry mark. However, all the other clothes found in the house had the J MSC laundry mark, making it evident that the shirt and cloth belonged to the assailants.”

“Some fingerprints were also detected on surfaces like the refrigerator in the dining hall. A blood-stained knife was also found. However, the fingerprints did not tally with those of the deceased or with the criminals in the records of the police,” he adds.

Catching the culprits

After discovering the pieces of clothes found at the crime scene, Inspector Vakatkar located 12 laundries in the city which used this laundry mark. On 24 October, the police finally zeroed in on the American Express laundry at Khetwadi and located its proprietor Shenolikar.

He promptly told the PSIs Goud and Dudhat that the ‘AI SBH’ and ‘AI Z’ laundry marks belonged to his laundry, and the two male customers whom they belonged to stayed in the same locality.

The arrests:

On the same evening, the two accused Sayed Bakar Hussain and Sayed Ali Asad were arrested at Khetwadi back road. The two confessed to having committed the crime for pecuniary gain. They had stolen cash, gold and pearl ornaments and wrist watches worth Rs 10,000.… pic.twitter.com/b2jZQOQMCr

— Dhaval Kulkarni (धवल कुलकर्णी) ?? (@dhavalkulkarni) January 10, 2024

As Dhaval notes, “They had stolen cash, gold and pearl ornaments, and wristwatches worth Rs 10,000. Their fingerprints tallied with the chance prints found at the scene of the crime. They had discarded the blood-stained clothes and worn the washed clothes of Mr Choonawala.”

To solve any crime, however, the police need to establish a motive.

According to the police, Hussain was Choonawala’s driver and had been fired from his position. Hussain believed that Choonawala still owed him dues for working overtime, etc. Choonawala argued that all dues had been settled. During this argument, Hussain’s cousin Asad was also present. The argument with Choonawala escalated and soon the cousins committed the murder. 

“They [cousins] later cut the dhobi mark from their blood-stained clothes to disguise their identity, set fire to clothes, newspapers, etc, and opened the gas connection,” explains Dhaval.

For their crimes, Hussain and Asad were sentenced to death by a principal sessions judge on 4 November 1968. In less than two weeks, the police had nabbed the culprits and a court found them guilty and sentenced them. This remarkable quadruple murder case was among the last cases of DCP Vaidyanath Sami’s illustrious career.

A brief note on DCP Vaidyanath Sami

During his tenure in the Bombay Police, which ran for more than three decades, DCP Vaidyanath Someshwar Sami solved many mysteries in ruthless criminal cases. 

Interestingly, however, he had never imagined that he would join the police force.

Born on 21 November, 1908, in the then Bombay, Vaidyanath came from a rich lineage but humble beginnings. Although he was a descendent of Sir Kumarapuram Sheshadri Iyer, a long-time Dewan of Mysore, his father Someshwar Iyer worked for a long time at the Bombay Tram Company before moving to the then Mysore where he endured serious financial difficulties.

To support his family, Vaidyanath went to find work in Bombay after graduating from St Joseph’s College in Bengaluru. He worked odd jobs as a screen puller for the Opera House theatre and an insurance agent before he joined the police force in 1931.

The turning point in his career came in 1939 when he was made part of Bombay’s CID. This was done by senior officials in the police department who were impressed by “his attentive and dedicated work ethic”, according to the book Jha cited earlier in this article.

“He was associated with the Bombay Police’s crime branch for 28 years and retired as deputy commissioner towards the end of his career. His image in the Bombay Police was that of an impossible and, yet, intelligent officer,” notes Jha.

He was an investigative policeman in the truest sense. As Jha writes, “While researching a case, Sami would often visit the local tea shops and salons on street corners.”

“He believed that an investigation was like hunting with deep patience. One has to keep one’s sixth sense in a complete state of alertness. During the quest, he would also fully utilise Bombay Police’s Fingerprint Bureau and the Police Dog Squad. He placed informers in almost all the colonies in the then Bombay, He would only rest once he had enough evidence against the accused so that they wouldn’t get away in the court for the lack of it. However, he was against the practice of third-degree torture of criminals as he found it quite inhuman,” the book adds.

Throughout his career, he solved many high-profile cases including the Turf Soda Factory murder case, the then Bombay’s Central Bank robbery, Lloyd Bank robbery case, Kuldeep murder case, and the Bombay House robbery case, amongst others.

He would find clues from the most unexpected sources like in the Bombay Lloyds Bank robbery case, which he solved with the help of a clue given by a schoolgirl or an unclaimed car parked on Mohammad Ali Road in the then Bombay’s Central Bank robbery case. 

He was truly a Sherlock Holmes of his time.

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

Images courtesy Mumbai Police: Urbs Prima in Indis (Photos of the officers), Dhaval Kulkarni (Photos of the building) and Deepak Rao (Photos of the fingerprints, the Chunawala family and the two accused) and The Queen of Indian Pop: The Authorised Biography of Usha Uthup by Vikas Jha (Photo of Vaidyanath Someshwar Sami in a police uniform)

Sources:

Dhaval Kulkarni’s thread on X (formerly known as Twitter)

‘The Queen of Indian Pop: The Authorised Biography of Usha Uthup’ by Vikas Kumar Jha, Translated by Srishti Jha; Published by Penguin Ebury Press on 7 February 2022

Today, we explore these stories.

But as we delve into them, we encourage you to sit down with a bowl of this timeless winter favourite. As the first spoon of the orange halwa hits your tastebuds, feel the riot of flavours erupting in your mouth, each bite a celebration in itself.

Halwas in Indian homes often take on the role of family members who drop in unannounced but are always welcome. No matter the occasion, their surprise visits are much-awaited. So, whether it is moong dal halwa, badam halwa, sooji halwa or our favourite gajar ka halwa, each has a reserved spot at the family table.

As we dunk into the history of the great halwa, the most popular tale is of its name. The word halwa comes from the Arabic word ‘hulw’ which translates to ‘sweet’.

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The word’s first appearance in the English language dates back to 1850. In fact, it is these Arabic origins that back the theory that halwa was a dish that came from Persia to India. One of the first to acknowledge this was ‘Guzishta Lucknow’ written by Abdul Halim Sharar, a 20th-century author and historian.

Recipes of halwa can be traced to the legendary Kitab al-Tabikh (The Book of Dishes), a 13th-century Arabic text. Here, Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan Ibn al-Karīm mentioned different recipes of halwa. Cut to the 16th century when one of Akbar’s court historians, Abul Fazl mentioned — in the Ain-i-Akbari — halwa as one among the repertoire of dishes prepared for the ruler whilst he abstained from meat.

But while you digest these origins of the dessert, there are still other versions.

While some argue that the Ottoman Empire also known as the Turkish Empire is credited with making halwa popular — with the sultanate reserving a special kitchen the ‘Helvahane’ for the sweet — others say it was the Byzantine Empire in the 12th century that should be credited. 

This theory of the halwa’s entry into the world between the 13th and 16th centuries is backed by Chicago-based food historian Colleen Taylor Sen in her book ‘Feasts and Fasts’. Here, she writes, “Halwa arrived in India with the advent of the Delhi Sultanate, gaining popularity from the early thirteenth to the mid-sixteenth century.”

From these early roots, the sweet dish has branched out into numerous versions, each the pride of a different city in India. For instance, the banana halwa of coastal Karnataka, the Tirunelveli halwa of the South, the Cholar dal halwa of West Bengal, gosht halwa made with lamb mince, mohanlal halwa of Gujarat, kada prasad made by the Sikh community, and the jauzi halwa of Lucknow.

As for the story of how the gajar ka halwa came to be, the Dutch are credited for this winter special. It is the result of carrots, indigenous to Afghanistan, being brought to India by the Dutch in the 17th century as the latter wanted to pay tribute to William III, the Prince of Orange.

The root vegetable became so popular in Punjab on its advent into the region, that it was added to almost every dish. Soon, it made its way into the dessert scene and thus was born the gajar ka halwa.

The tradition is followed to date.

Come winter, and carrots find themselves grated and dunked into milk where they slowly simmer and mix with sugar and ghee, only to land in a bowl and be cherished by one and all.

You’ll be surprised to know that while gajar ka halwa is tied to its orange hues, in Lucknow it is the black version that finds fame. Made with black carrots that are said to provide a warming effect, this halwa is equally, if not more, delicious.

For those of you who cannot wait to dig into this dessert, here’s a recipe by Chef Sanjeev Kapoor that you can try.

Ingredients

• 3 tbsp ghee
• 10 grated carrots
• 2 cups milk
• ¼ tsp cardamom powder
• 1 cup grated khoya 
• ¾ cup sugar 
• 2 tbsp blanched and sliced almonds
• 2 tbsp chopped cashew nuts
• 15 raisins 

Method 

Step 1: Heat 3 tablespoons of ghee.

Step 2: Add 10 grated carrots and sauté for 5 minutes.

Step 3: Add 2 cups milk, ¼ teaspoon cardamom powder, and cook till the carrots are soft.

Step 4: Add 1 cup grated khoya and ¾ cup sugar and cook till sugar melts.

Step 5: Garnish with 2 tablespoons blanched and sliced almonds, 2 tablespoons chopped cashew nuts and 15 raisins.

Step 6: Serve hot!

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

Sources

How the sweet dish halwa came to India and grew regional variations by Scroll, Published on 13 July 2022.

Gajar Ka Halwa- Dipped In History by Slurrp, Published on 28 November 2022.

The fascinating story of ‘Halwa’ by Times of India, Published on 17 July 2021.

Garba, which honours womanhood, is primarily from Gujarat but widely enjoyed all over India, especially during the nine-day festival of Navratri, which celebrates the divine feminine.

Indians have always embraced garba and now it seems the world has too!

This week, Gujarat’s garba made it to UNESCO’s list of ‘intangible cultural heritage’. As the website states, “The practitioners and bearers (of garba) are broad and inclusive, from the dancers to the musicians, social groups, craftspeople and religious figures involved in the festivities and preparations.”

However, this isn’t the first Indian cultural art form that has been given this honour. Over the years, 14 other heritage forms have made their way to the list. Here’s a glimpse at them.

1. Kutiyattam Sanskrit Theatre

One of India’s oldest living theatrical traditions, the Kutiyattam Sanskrit Theatre is believed to date back to more than 2,000 years. What is fascinating is the rigorous training that artists must undergo before being deemed eligible to become full-fledged performers.

The tradition is characterised by the dancer’s neta abhinaya (eye expression) and hasta abhinaya (the language of gestures). These gestures are said to be closely guarded secrets that belong to specific family lineages in Kerala.

2. Ramlila

The Ramacharitmanas is an epic poem composed by Indian poet Tulsidas in the 16th century, which continues to be popular to date. Ramlila is performed based on the texts mentioned in this epic. The act chronicles the battle between Lord Rama and the antagonist Ravana through a series of performances.

Ramlila is not only famous for evoking love for the epics but also for fostering a sense of brotherhood as it blurs boundaries of caste, creed and religion, encouraging all villagers to join in the preparation.

3. Kalbelia folk songs

The Kalbelia community of Thar, Rajasthan were popular for their skill in charming snakes. They were also credited for being one of the only tribes that could tame poisonous snakes. The children in this community often grew up among these venomous creatures without being hurt!

However, in modern times, the tribe’s work has become redundant. So, the community now channels their prowess into song and dance through the Kalbelia folk songs also known as the ‘Sapera Dance’ or snake dance.

The women dress in black skirts — mimicking snakes — while the men play the khanjari percussion instrument and the poongi.

4. Ramman

Centric to the state of Uttarakhand, the religious festival is celebrated with great fervour to honour the deity Bhumiyal Devta. Every year, one family in the village must take the onus of hosting the deity. This family must spend the year preparing for it with fasting and penance.

On the designated day, the entire village gathers for the celebration. Different roles are assigned during the ceremony — some lead the prayers, the young ones perform, elders supervise, and some wear sacred masks portraying Narasimha, a Hindu deity with the form of a half-man, half-lion.

5. Chhau Dance

If you happen to be in the states of Jharkhand, West Bengal or Odisha during the spring festival of Chaitra Prava, you are bound to witness this unique dance form. Usually put up at night and accompanied by the sound of drums, mohuri (reed pipes) and shehnai (a double reeded instrument), the dance features male performers who dramatise scenes from epics like Mahabharata and Ramayana.

It is said that the steps are inspired by the martial arts dance Phari Khanda Khela and thus mimic warrior actions. In fact, the name ‘chhau’ is derived from ‘chhauni’ which means military barracks.

6. Vedic chanting

Chanting the Vedas requires more than just regular skill; it demands intricate recitation methods taught to practitioners since childhood. This ensures flawless pronunciation and understanding of every word, preserving the chants for future generations. As the Vedas are the bedrock of Hinduism, this challenging practice seems appropriate.

These ‘books of knowledge’ are believed to have been composed over three centuries ago. Today, we know of them as the Rigveda — an anthology of sacred hymns, the Samaveda  — musical arrangements of the hymns, the Yajurveda — a collection of prayers, and the Atharvaveda — a compilation of incantations and spells.

7. Mudiyettu

The performance comprises numerous steps and is an ode to the Goddess Bhadrakali. On the morning of the ritual dance drama, Mudiyettu performers draw an image of the deity in coloured powders on the temple floor, known as kalamezhuthu.

Kalampuja follows in which the drawing is worshipped based on the belief that the deity’s spirit is now in it. The drawing is then erased and the performers gather in avatars of the deity, the demon Darika, and other characters. As percussion instruments ring into the night silence, the performance ensues.

8. Buddhist chanting of Ladakh

The Buddhist community in Ladakh treasures peace and harmony. They chant sacred texts to seek spiritual enlightenment and sometimes use chants to ward off evil spirits or to mark auspicious occasions on the calendar.

The air brims with serenity and calm as the monasteries around the area hum in unison. It is interesting to note that the chanting is accompanied by music, vibrations, and the lamas wearing traditional clothes while making graceful hand movements called mudras.

9. Sankirtana

Often hailed as the visible manifestation of God, Sankirtana is performed to mark the various stages of the life cycle of the Vaishnava people of the Manipur plains. It is said that the art form arrived in Manipur as early as the 15th century, and the first kirtana was performed at Lord Vishnu’s temple in Vishnupur village.

The performance includes two drummers and 10 dancers enacting the deeds of Lord Krishna. The energy during the play is so holy that audience members are prohibited from entering or leaving while the performance is on.

10. Thathera craft

The numerous health benefits of using copper and brass vessels are well known. However, around 200 years ago, these were even more popular than today. It is said that the Thathera craft was established when skilled metal workers from Kashmir settled in Jandiala Guru, Punjab under the reign of Maharaja Ranjit Singh.

Since then, Jandiala Guru has become a bustling mandi (market) for brass and copper vessels. The process of making these utensils is intense and involves heating the metal to high temperatures and then moulding it into shapes. A final polish of tamarind juice is applied to each piece before they are ready for sale.

11. Yoga

The ultimate goal of yoga is the liberation of body and mind. The poses (asanas), meditation, breathing exercises (pranayama) and chanting are done in yoga work to ease physical and emotional distress in the body.

Though the practice began as a way of promoting spiritual well-being, it is now hailed as one of the best ways of achieving holistic health. There are specific asanas that are said to help with migraines, lower back pain, obesity, menopause symptoms and even chronic diseases.

12. Nawrouz

The Irani festival also called ‘Persian New Year’ is marked by a Thanksgiving lunch where the family gathers to feast and celebrate. It takes place in March and the festivities go on for around two weeks. The festival is marked by parties, gifts being exchanged between friends and family, and several community activities that strengthen solidarity among its members.

According to UNESCO, “The Spirit of Noon, known as Rapithwina, who was considered to be driven underground by the Spirit of Winter during the cold months, was welcomed back with celebrations at noon on the day of Nowruz according to Zoroastrian tradition.”

13. Kumbh Mela

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The festival needs no introduction. It is celebrated four times over 12 years at four different sacred rivers — Haridwar’s Ganges River, Ujjain’s Shipra, Nashik’s Godavari, and  Prayagraj’s Ganges. The festival is hailed as one of the largest peaceful congregations of pilgrims on earth and sees people of every religion flocking to it.

Legend says that the Kumbh Mela began when the gods and demons were fighting over the pot (kumbha) of the elixir of immortality (amrita). During the tussle, a few drops of elixir fell on four earthly sites turning the rivers into nectar. To this end, pilgrims bathe in these rivers to achieve immortality.

14. Durga Puja

It is safe to say that the 10-day festival is the pride of Kolkata, where it is celebrated with great fervour to mark the homecoming of Goddess Durga. Idols of the Goddess made from unfired clay are sculpted and worshipped. The first day of the Puja sees eyes being painted on the idols to ‘bring the Goddess to life’. Then on the 10th day, the idols are immersed in the river, marking the end of the festivities.

The streets of Kolkata are an eclectic mix of religion and culture on the ten days of the festival. Echoes of “Dugga Dugga” are heard on the streets as people wish each other a safe life. Meanwhile, the aroma of sweets is accompanied by that of dhunuchi (a form of incense made from the resin of sal trees).

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

Across the city, many people have been organising heritage walks and preservation drives to save this hidden cultural wealth. One such individual is Meera Iyer, who has dedicated more than a decade of her life to discovering and restoring unexplored heritage buildings, ensuring they are preserved for future generations.

The 53-year-old worked as a freelance writer before she decided to join INTACH (Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage), a non-profit charitable organisation dedicated to the conservation of unprotected architectural heritage all over India, to preserve Bengaluru’s forgotten heritage. 

“It’s both shocking and disheartening that many residents of the city are unaware of the presence of heritage buildings. These structures, some dating back hundreds of years, are slipping into obscurity with no one to preserve their historical significance,” Meera Iyer, the convenor of INTACH tells The Better India. 

For the love of the city and its heritage 

Raised in Bengaluru, Meera has always harboured a keen interest in exploring the city’s rich heritage. “I used to visit many lesser-known structures around the city. As an enthusiast, I enjoyed uncovering these hidden gems and had always aspired to make a meaningful contribution,” she says.

Before joining INTACH, Meera worked as a freelance writer, focusing on topics related to forests and science. “I hold a PhD in forest ecology and spent some time in the US. When I returned to India, I initially pursued freelance writing before discovering my true passion for heritage preservation,” she recalls.

A pivotal moment that redirected her career path was a visit to Devanahalli Fort. “During my visit, I realised that there was a lack of information online about its history and heritage. This 18th century building is gradually fading into obscurity, losing in the debris of time,” she says. 

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“The significance of this place is not only historical but also architectural. In any other country in the world, there would have been people passionately advocating for its recognition, but here, it was as if no one even knew about it,” she adds. 

With the determination to save as many heritage buildings as possible, in 2007 she joined INTACH. 

“That realisation became the catalyst for me to get involved. There are many such overlooked places, but this one, in particular, was a major turning point. Visiting these locations, and especially finding a complete absence of information on site, fueled my determination to take action,” she says. 

Discovering the city through a historical lens

Speaking on the topic of what truly constitutes history in the eyes of people, Meera comments, “There are thousands of monuments in the country protected by the ASI. However, there are also small temples, buildings, schools, and homes that hold historical significance. The challenge lies in preserving them. I understand that it’s not feasible to protect every fragment of the past, but there must be a way to document and raise awareness about these sites so that more of our history can be retained.”

At INTACH’s Bengaluru Chapter, Meera informed they cover largely two aspects of heritage preservation. “First, we host heritage walks to familiarise people with their city’s heritage. Our walks primarily focus on the local community, targeting the citizens of the city. While we do welcome tourists and travellers, our emphasis on engaging the local population is evident. This commitment is reflected, for instance, in being one of the few organisations in the city that conducts walks in the local language, Kannada. Our goal is to ensure that people from all walks of life are acquainted with the city.”

Meera initiated outreach efforts through the publication of a book called, ‘Discovering Bengaluru’. It delves into the history and evolution of nine older neighbourhoods in the city. 

She says, “It is a collection of eleven fiction stories set in Bangalore, incorporating historical elements like time travel and narratives spanning various eras, was introduced. These literary works contribute to our outreach efforts, aiming to connect with a broader audience.”

The group has done hundreds of heritage walks in the local language.

The second part is where the organisation is actually working on the conservation of heritage, the actual conservation and restoration of buildings. “The team at INTACH starts from looking for a prospective building, then securing funding and then finding architects and engineers that are ideal for the project,” she says. 

“We have worked on several projects in the years so far. Every building that we restore becomes an important part of our routines. It is very hard to restore a building and keep its history and heritage intact. It is something that needs patience and a pair of delicate hands,” she says. 

In the past years, they have restored buildings in and around Bengaluru such as Mayo Hall, Tipu’s Armoury, Gangubai Hangal, Museum, the Old OPD Building at NIMHANS which is now a museum, the Oriental Research Institute in Mysuru among others.  

“We’ve been involved in the construction of two buildings in Shimoga for the Shimoga Smart City initiative. One is the Government Middle School, and the other is the Shimoga Corporation building, both completed last year. Currently, our focus is on the ongoing projects, including Mani Villas, the institute, and a train station called Nandi Halt,” she adds.

Talking about the various difficulties her team faces she says, “We face numerous issues, with funding being the major hurdle. The government doesn’t consistently allocate funds to us, compelling us to seek support from private sources. However, securing funding from private entities is quite challenging since not many are inclined to invest in extensive restoration projects. Although several companies have CSR funds, those funds typically prioritise projects related to health, women, and children.”

“The disinterest in preserving this heritage is also because, for many people, the idea of heritage is a fort or a temple,” she adds. “However, we have been lucky enough to somehow find enthusiastic individuals wanting to contribute as well as government funding here and there to survive. 

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Another issue that Meera brings up in our conversation is the lack of stringent preservation rules in Bengaluru. 

Discussing the situation in places like Mumbai, particularly South Bombay and the Colaba area, she notes, “Many buildings there have been officially declared protected and designated as heritage by the City of Bombay. In contrast, in Bengaluru, although we theoretically have a similar concept, the city lacks an effective implementing agency. In practical terms, we don’t possess a robust regulatory framework for heritage protection in Bengaluru. This poses a significant issue and a considerable challenge.”

“Besides awareness and restoration, we are always trying to work with the government to try and get them to do something about getting heritage legislation,” she notes. 

Talking about the future, Meera says, “My ultimate goal is to find myself without a job. This scenario signifies the perfect situation where heritage is fully protected, and the community as a whole is deeply invested in its preservation. In such an ideal state, there wouldn’t be a need for an active role in heritage protection anymore. While the realisation of this goal may be uncertain and not immediate, it remains a significant aspiration.”

You can find INTACH Bengaluru chapter work here. 

(Edited by Padmashree Pande)

We’re referring to the home of Jagdish Mittal, a 99-year-old artist, whose life has been a journey of spotting magic in what others may presume to be ‘junk’. 

The house, doubling as a museum for priceless and countless Indian artefacts, or its list of influential guests with the likes of Jacqueline Kennedy and William Dalrymple, has many more fascinating aspects to it.

What’s most interesting is how the ‘museum’ conducts itself, providing each guest with a personalised experience. And it is to Jagdish Mittal’s genius that this is possible. 

If you expect anything like a regular museum exhibition in here then prepare to be disappointed. Things play out differently here. Every piece is in storage, carefully protected, until it needs to be brought out for viewing. 

Mittal’s grandson and CEO of the museum, Naveen Beesa, is at the helm of things here. “Unlike other museums, we have a very unique way of looking at objects. We don’t have them on display or in cabinets or on the walls. You can touch the object, feel it and see it up close.” 

Viewing is only available on an appointment basis. 

He shares with The Better India, “When we give out appointments, we try to learn what people are interested in, what are the paintings, textiles they wish to see, etc. We then make it available for them on the designated day.” And while you gaze at each work of art, Mittal’s commentary is bound to accompany it. After all, as he emphasises, “Each of them has a story.”

A set of beguiling beauties 

Over the last 79 years, Mittal has been breathing new life into seemingly ordinary objects. “It is a knack,” he says, and we aren’t arguing. But as all stories are rooted in serendipity, so is Mittal’s. 

Born in Mussoorie in 1925, he’d come to fall in love with nature and the slow way of living. However, this pace of life soon saw a detour when the family moved to Gorakhpur gratis his father’s engineering job. It was here that Mittal had his first tryst with the charm of the arts. 

“I observed the craftsmen working near my house. I remember going to watch the potters and weavers at the age of seven. As I watched them work, my interest deepened,”  he recalls, adding that a career in crafts wasn’t the traditional route encouraged for the men of the family. They were all engineers. But Mittal had found his calling. And there was no wondering otherwise. 

As early as Class 6, he had a knack for discerning which pieces of art were associated with a legacy. “I remember seeing a painting in a history textbook in school. I was drawn to it. But the next year the syllabus changed and the book was no longer available.” 

What did Mittal do?

“I travelled three miles to buy the book for the painting in it. I still have it,” he chuckles. You can only imagine his joy in discovering later that the painting was a reprint of the one the great Mughal connoisseur, Dara Shikoh, had gifted his wife. 

With these early instances serving as his springboard, Mittal’s formal foray into the arts began when he was 17 years of age when he began taking painting lessons. These introduced him to the world of artists and sculptors who lay beyond the classroom.  

But Mittal hasn’t been alone in this journey of collecting valuables for the museum. By his side was his wife and fellow artist, Kamla. The duo met at Kala Bhavana, the progressive visual arts institution founded by Rabindranath Tagore in 1919. They soon got married. 

Bonding over a shared aesthetic 

It is safe to say that the Jagdish and Kamla Mittal Museum of Indian Art set up in March 1976 is a world in itself. It boasts over 2,500 of India’s finest artefacts dating from 1200 AD to 1900 AD, each with a story of its own. As Naveen shares, “My grandfather does not buy anything in any of the auction houses. Everything that is in the museum is something he has seen during his travels and bought.” 

But ask Mittal to recall his favourite piece, and he says it’s unfair. 

“It’s like you’re asking me to pick between my favourite children.” However, that being said, he does let us in on the story behind his first collectible. While at Shantiniketan in 1946, Mittal stumbled upon a fisherman one evening carrying a basket. This wasn’t an unusual sight. But what drew Mittal to it was the basket’s covering. 

“It was ‘kantha’ embroidery,” he explains, referring to the popular heritage craft of Bengal which involves layers of cloth being stitched together with multiple lines. He continues, “I asked the fisherman to sell me the covering. I asked him how much he would charge. He said Rs 3. I did not have change and gave him Rs 5.”

The covering embroidered with coloured aquatic creatures was later exhibited in the ‘Festival of India’ exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York in 1985. 

The 1990 Padma Shri awardee’s intention is for his love for arts to be transmuted to other students too. This is how the idea of turning the home into a museum took shape. 

As Naveen shares, “When my grandfather was travelling across India, he donned different roles — sometimes an art teacher, a designer, a painter — he saw that there were so many good things here. It also made him realise that there existed a disconnect between students and art. So when he started this collection, it was with a very simple objective that art has to be accessible.”

Here’s a look at some of the masterpieces of the collection. 

All picture credits: “Collection: Jagdish and Kamla Mittal Museum of Indian Art, Hyderabad.”

Edited by Padmashree Pande.

Sometime in 2021, I was travelling in Tamil Nadu by bus for work. I was not in a great mood and was just about to take out my headphones to listen to some music, when the driver started the bus. The buoyant ‘Rakkamma kaiya thattu’ started playing, transporting me to another world. I could instantly visualise Rajinikanth sashaying his hips and dancing in the way only he can. This song from the 1991 film Thalapathi had ranked fourth in the BBC World Service Top 10 songs in 2002. 

A smile appeared on my face, and I saw that the lady sitting next to me was also humming along to the song. As we journeyed on the green-lined highway listening to other songs from the movie Thalapathi composed by Ilaiyaraaja, I could feel my troubles melting away. 

Isn’t that one of the most beautiful things about music? 

It’s also the spell that Raaja, as he is fondly called, casts on you. The composer, who turned 80 this June, has composed a song for every mood. Whether you’re feeling nostalgic, missing a loved one, thinking of your parents, or want to sing along at home with friends, there is a Raaja song. 

As I returned to my old office that day, I remember spending the entire evening discussing this phenomenon with my former colleague and friend, Ashok Kumar. He said that every person in Tamil Nadu will have a story associated with a Raaja song. 

“There are many composers who have produced good music. But whether you’re travelling or going through a rough patch, or if it’s after 10 PM, only Ilaiyaraaja’s songs will help,” he says. 

For Ashok Sir, as I fondly call him, Raaja’s music is a soothing balm. Right from when his baby boy was in the hospital, or he was unwell during the COVID-19 pandemic, the maestro’s music came to his rescue. 

In fact, he shares that he has a different song denoted for specific situations. If there’s a family problem, he listens to ‘Appan endrum Ammai endrum’ from Guna and during other challenging moments, he listens to the devotional album ‘Ramana Maalai’.

“I used to play the cassette of Ramana Maalai whenever I needed some strength. By the time the eight songs from Side A and B were played, I would be okay. The songs speak about how we have to overcome problems. They are simply a level above anything you will ever hear,” he adds.

Like Ashok Sir, there are many individuals who turn to Ilaiyaraaja’s music to sail through their life. And now, his impressive life will come alive on the big screen through a biopic in 2025. Dhanush will reportedly essay the role. With film trade analyst, Manobala Vijayabalan, confirming the news on X, Raaja’s fans cannot wait for this treat. Here’s a look at this legend’s musical journey and life, which started at the age of 14 in Pannaipuram, Theni, Tamil Nadu.

The making of a legend

From being called as the ‘Maestro’ by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, London — and being the first Asian composer to record for them in 1993 — and ‘Isaignani‘ (the musical sage) by the late Tamil Nadu chief minister, Kalaignar M Karunanidhi, Ilaiyaraaja rose through several challenges to become the beloved artist that everyone loves him for. 

Named Gnanathesigan at birth in 1943, he was greatly influenced by the rich folk songs he heard growing up. Though he had to drop out of school at 14, he accompanied his brother, Pavalar Varadarajan, on concerts across the state. 

Varadarajan was a musician for the undivided Communist Party of India and sang songs with political themes. Raaja’s mother asked him to accompany his brother when he was sick and his musical tutelage began under him. 

After accompanying Varadarajan for over a decade, he moved to Madras along with his other brothers, Bhaskar and Gangai Amaran (also a music director and lyricist) in 1968. With little money, the brothers were forced to vacate the lodge they were living in, but another singer arranged for their stay then.

While his talent was recognised and honed, Ilaiyaraaja didn’t even have bus fare on most days, and would walk long distances to learn music. He was learning western classical music under Dhanraj Master who then waived off his fees.

In an interview with The Hindu, the musician recalled that Dhanraj Master asked him to teach other students. “With a hungry stomach, I would do it. Intuitively, I learnt the notes. Once, overcome by hunger, I asked one of the students, Raja, to buy me a cup of tea and he immediately obliged,” Ilaiyaraaja explained then.

It was here that the then 25-year-old was introduced to the great stalwarts of classical music like Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert and more. Post this, he learnt classical guitar from the Trinity College of Music, London, where he was a gold medallist.

In the early 1970s, the maestro started working as a freelance musician and became the lead guitarist in music director Salil Chowdhury’s Chennai orchestra. Chowdhury had once famously said, “Our main guitarist in Chennai is the best composer in India.”

He was then spotted by Kannada film composer GK Venkatesh and assisted him in over 200 films. Here, he learnt composing and started writing his own compositions. He got his first break with film producer Panchu Arunachalam who asked him to compose six songs for his film Annakili in 1976. The music, which was folksy, was a hit and thus began the composer’s tryst with Tamil cinema. 

When Ilaiyaraaja entered the music industry, Tamil cinema was dominated by the likes of MS Viswanathan and KV Mahadevan. With roots in folk, carnatic music and an education in western classical music, he ushered in a new musical era.

Initially though, his sensibilities didn’t match the popular hits. After trying to make music the way it was being composed at the time, he started experimenting and introduced new techniques and styles. He is credited with changing the way music is made in Tamil films. He was also one of the first Indian composers to use Western classical music and arrangements in his music.

Revolutionising the Tamil music industry

What sets Isaignani apart starts right from the way he composes his music. He reaches the studio early in the morning and writes the tune in the form of notations. He is one of the few composers who first write the notes and then play them. He is also known to write down the orchestrations in great detail. 

He then starts composing at 7am and is known for being quick at it. In the 1985 drama film Uyarndha Ullam, he received a standing ovation from the 90 musicians in the orchestra after the recording was done.

“For a song in the movie, I planned to use a 90-piece orchestra. RD Burman’s assistants were coordinating the orchestra and when I said the musicians had to turn up at 7 am, they were taken aback. They were unsure of who’d turn up, considering they were used to working later in the day, but the next day, everybody was there. In half an hour, the orchestra was written, and once the entire song was done, every one of the 90 musicians gave me a standing ovation. That was special,” he told The Hindu.

He also once mentioned how he does not like the classification of music as “music everywhere is based on the seven notes (sapta swaram).”

“My perception is that there is no distinction in music as many people perceive. The difference lies in the way you hear the music. Your understanding of music depends on your capacity to perceive it,” he said in a function in Kerala in June 2005. 

His music was for everyone and shunned the idea of Carnatic music purists who believe that it can be enjoyed only “by a few”. Ilaiyaraaja showed us why music should be inclusive through the beautiful ‘Paadariyen Padippariyen’ in K Balachander’s ‘Sindhu Bhairavi’ (1985).

In the movie, Carnatic musician JK Balaganapathi (Sivakumar) sings a composition by Tyagaraja, Mari Mari Ninne in an auditorium that includes Sindhu (Suhasini). To show the accessibility of classical music, Sindhu tells Balaganapathi after the performance that it would have been better if everyone could understand the lyrics and wonders if a folk composition could be included in a carnatic concert. 

When he derides her, she sings ‘Paadariyen Padippariyen’ a Tamil folk song in the same Saramati raaga. Starting as a folk song, it beautifully transitions into the Carnatic Mari Mari Ninne, underscoring the point that there are no boundaries in music. 

Speaking about this composition in a Sun TV interview, Ilaiyaraaja said that this was the only song that he did “homework” for.

“I wanted to infuse the folk song in the same raaga. I sat with the entire book of Tyagaraja compositions and worked on how it could be done. When I hummed Paadariyen Padippariyen, it perfectly sat in the same tune as Mari Mari Ninne. I told Balachander sir (the director of the movie) that there will be applause in the theatre after this song. I told him that I would stop composing if it didn’t happen,” Ilaiyaraaja had said.

As predicted, there was rapturous applause after the song in the theatre. The composer got a National award for Sindhu Bhairavi.

His use of western classical symphonies in the most unlikely situations is spectacular. His background scores lift the narrative of the movies and add to your cinematic experience. In a culture where people would clap for the heroes and create cutouts for them, fans started doing the same for Ilaiyaraaja in Tamil Nadu, such was his impact.

Besides Tamil cinema, he has also scored music for Telugu, Kannada, Malayalam and Hindi movies like Sadma, Paa, Cheeni Kum. 

Ilaiyaraaja has also invented his own raaga called ‘Panchamukhi’. 

What keeps him ticking?

“A man settled in life with a secure job approaches life in a casual manner. But a man for whom most of the chances are closed approaches life with an all-out courage and from a new view point, which enables him to achieve a lot more than the former. I am like the latter. That is the reason for the freshness and novelty in my background score,” he had told The Frontline.

Ilaiyaraaja has composed over 8,000 songs in 1,000 films and has enthralled audiences through his concerts. He has been conferred with the Padma Bhushan, the Padma Vibhushan and five National Awards as well. Since July 2022, apart from being an ace musician, he has also been a Member of the Parliament. 

Amazingly, he proves that music transcends all barriers. 

To drive home this point, Ashok Sir shares another anecdote related to Ilaiyaraaja. In 1994, when he was working at a restaurant in Madurai, a foreigner walked in one afternoon. 

As Raaja’s music was playing in the background, he told them to “stop the Indian music” using an expletive. However, when he was paying the bill, Ashok Sir told him, “I would have had no issues if you had asked me to merely stop playing the music. But why did you have to say Indian music? On the way to your hotel, buy this cassette called ‘How to name it’ by Ilaiyaraaja. Listen to it to understand what Indian music is.”

Surprisingly, the man visited the restaurant the next day and asked for Ashok Sir. He gave him a Rs 500 tip and thanked him for introducing him to good music. 

Ilaiyaraaja believes that music should come from the heart and should not be a task. “If you labour on creating music, it will not have soul,” he had once told The Hindu and that stands true.

So, what’s your Ilaiyaraaja story?

Edited by Padmashree Pande

Sources

Frontline

‘The Ilaiyaraaja interview: ‘Why should filmmakers know about music creation?’ by Srinivasa Ramanujam for The Hindu, Published on 31 May, 2018

‘Maestro remembers Dhanraj Master’ by B Kolappan for The Hindu, Published on 02 February, 2019

‘No point in classifying music, says Ilayaraja’ Published on 16 October, 2017 Courtesy The Hindu

Today, countless small businesses and startups follow the trail illuminated by these legacy food businesses. With growth models that have stood the test of time, they are still on their way to scale higher. 

1. Lijjat Papad 

In 1959, people were amused to see seven Gujarati women gathered on a terrace in South Mumbai. They were kneading and sun-drying papads (a deep-fried snack). What started out as an idea is now a legacy business that boasts over 45,000 women employees and a net worth of over Rs 1,600 crore.

Started as Shri Mahila Udyog Lijjat Papad, the company is now India’s oldest all-women cooperative. The brand’s aim has remained unwavering — to support women in attaining financial independence. 

2. Balaji Wafers 

“Crispy, delightful and the perfect party starter” — this is how most people describe Balaji Wafers. But Chandubhai Virani,  the founder, had no idea his simple snack would come to find so much love. 

Born into a farming family, Chandubhai and his brothers moved to Rajkot in search of employment. They were hired at the canteen of a local cinema for a salary of Rs 90 per month.  

Theatregoers were Chandubhai’s first customers. They enjoyed the chips he sold, oblivious that he was making these in his one-room home. Soon Balaji Wafers grew into a multi-crore national sensation that clocked a turnover of over Rs 500 crore this year. 

3. Parle-G

A staple in all Indian homes, you won’t deny Parle-G is desi chai’s ultimate partner. Interesting to note is how the brand’s name came to be. In 1929, Mohanlal Dayal, a Mumbai-based gentleman, refurbished an old factory in Mumbai’s Vile Parle. He decided he would manufacture confectionery here. 

Soon, the factory came to be called Parle after the location. The factory began baking biscuits here in 1939 to counter the trend of imported snacks. Parle Gluco was a hit. 

However, soon, numerous other brands hopped onto the bandwagon of making glucose biscuits. So, in a bid to stand out from the competition, in 1982 the brand repackaged their biscuits as Parle-G.  

4. Nilon 

Brothers Suresh and Prafful Sanghavi were working in the field during the peak of World War II. Seeing the plight of the soldiers, they would prepare lemon syrups and juices from the produce on their land and serve these to the army. 

The brothers soon began to realise the potential of food processing. Soon, their home kitchen in Utran village, Jalgaon, Maharashtra became a site of experimentation. Aromas of ketchup, jellies, jams and more prepared with ingredients sourced from the field began to fill the space. However, when sold, these did not generate a good response from the audience. 

In 1966, the brothers introduced pickles to the menu and sales rocketed! That is how Nilon pickles was born.   

5. Chitale 

Everyone is a fan of the brand’s ‘Bakarwadi’. Few know that this was the result of a Maharashtra farmer’s idea. 

Bhaskar Ganesh Chitale turned to farming to help his widowed mother. However, hours spent at the farm in the drought-prone village of Limbgove, 20 km from Satara, yielded few to no returns. 

In 1939, Chitale boarded a train to Bhilawadi in Sangli district where he observed an abundance of domesticated animals. Milk would often be in excess. The farmer decided to put this to use and began making milk products — cottage cheese, shrikhand, milk powder, etc. Today, over 40,000 farmers work with the brand. 

The Bakarwadi sold by the brand is so famous that over 1,000 kgs are made in an hour. 

6. Vadilal

We’ve all enjoyed the popsicles on a sunny afternoon after the end-of-year exams. The name ‘Vadilal’ evokes nostalgia. The brand had humble beginnings in Gujarat in 1907. At the time their ice creams were made using the traditional and popular Kothi method in which a hand-operated machine was used to churn milk, ice and salt. 

Vadilal Gandhi started the brand with sodas but it was his son Ranchod Lal Gandhi who introduced ice creams to the brand. By the time of India’s independence, the company had opened four outlets across Ahmedabad. The company clocked a turnover of over Rs 1, 071 crore. 

Edited by Padmashree Pande.

Seeing the 15-year-old, Netaji convinced the girl that she was too young to join the regiment. Two years later, the headstrong teenager was again standing in front of him demanding to let her join the force.

Raised in Japan amid the bombings during World War II, she never feared a war. Impressed by her resolve, Netaji welcomed her to join the newly-formed women regiment that was made with the aim of overthrowing the British Raj in colonial India with the assistance of the Japanese.

After rigorous training, the girl became a lieutenant of the Rani of Jhansi Regiment of the Indian National Army.

Her name is Bharati ‘Asha’ Sahay Choudhry.

Now 95, Asha san (a title equivalent to Ms in Japanese) lives in Patna, Bihar. The experiences of her unusual life which she had jotted down on scraps of papers and letters became one of the most significant personal accounts of the Indian freedom movement. 

Compiled into a diary which was later published in 1992, the original Hindi book is now translated into English for the first time by her granddaughter-in-law, Tanvi Srivastava. 

Titled The War Diary of Asha-san, the book is a firsthand account of the young girl who grew up in the midst of war in Japan while being committed to the independence cause of her faraway homeland, India.

From learning Hindi to using machine guns

Born in 1928 in Kobe, Japan, to Indian freedom fighters Sati Sen and Anand Mohan Sahay — who met during the Non-Cooperation Movement — the impulse for freedom came naturally to her.

Her mother was Chittaranjan Das’ niece, the freedom fighter popularly known as Deshbandhu. Amid British retribution, the family fled to Japan in the 1920s. Around the same time, her mother embarked on a difficult journey to India to meet Bose and convey her husband’s plan to get him to Japan to lead the freedom movement in East Asia.

“It was not easy to communicate with each other then. They used to write messages on very thin rice papers, stitch them into blankets, and with the help of shipmen, it would be sent to Netaji,” Tanvi tells The Better India.

While her parents remained dedicated to the freedom movement, Asha continued her schooling in Showa University at Tokyo. She discontinued her education after joining the Rani Jhansi regiment at the age of 17. From Tokyo, she went to the training camp in Bangkok without any proper channels of transport due to the ongoing war.

Despite language being a barrier as Asha grew up speaking Japanese, she made friends at the regiment. The story becomes humorous and thrilling when she writes about learning Hindi and firing a machine gun.

In her book, she writes, “To be honest, anything, including a bomb falling on my head will be easier than learning how to write Hindi.” In fact when she was offered makki ki roti by an Indian family, she thought it was a chapati (flatbread) made of flies!

Tanvi adds, “In Bangkok, she was trained to use machine guns, how to hold and fire pistols at the enemy, learn the tactics of guerilla warfare, and how to drive a truck. She discovered what it means to be a patriot fighting for the liberation of a country she has no memories of but carries deep in her heart.”

Kadam Kadam Badhaye Ja …

Soon after her training, Asha, along with her regiment, set out on foot to march from Bangkok to the far off Burma (present-day Myanmar) in 1945. Amid bombings, the women’s armed force remained adamant as they sang ‘Kadam Kadam Badhaye Ja’ – the regimental quick march of the Indian National Army.

When the regiment managed to reach the banks of the Irrawaddy River — Myanmar’s largest river and most important commercial waterway — it was flooded. This made it impossible for them to cross the river and join the major INA army on the other side.

So, the regiment set their camps on the bank. However, they were attacked by the British and put behind bars for over a month. “They were forced to retreat to Bangkok. While all the other women went back to their homes, dadi (grandma) had nowhere to go. At that point, her father, who was out on a secret mission, was put in a Singapore jail. At the same time, the news of the atomic bombings in Japan surfaced,” she adds.

In August 1945, Hiroshima and Nagasaki were bombed with nuclear weapons and the Japanese forces were forced to surrender. Two weeks later, on 18 August 1945, the plane carrying Netaji, who was on his way to Tokyo, crashed. This came as a defeat for the Indian National Army.

A year later, Asha and her father were given a safe passage to India and they were reunited with Sati in 1947 when India was freed from British rule.

“We can never forget the moment our country was freed from the British Raj. I would like younger generations to understand the hardships behind the freedom movement. Be a real Indian who never surrenders to the forces of any other country. If anyone says anything against your country, be brave enough to stand for it and correct them,” Asha san tells The Better India in her frail voice.

In India, Asha restarted her education and got married in 1949. While she engaged herself in volunteer works, her contribution, like many other women freedom fighters, Tanvi believes, remained unknown.

“After Netaji’s death, most of the records were destroyed. So, not many know the contribution of the INA and this young girl in the Indian freedom movement in East Asia. It was only after INA members came to India that Indian citizens got to know about the women’s regiment in Japan and how these women fought for freedom. We only know about a handful of female freedom fighters despite them being at the forefront of the freedom struggle,” she adds.

“When you read such personal stories of war, it makes you understand what people went through and you don’t take a country, that was nurtured by the sacrifices of people, for granted. Her story is inspirational for young women. For dadi, it was only in the last 10 years that people started giving her recognition. This book has gotten some attention to her story,” says Tanvi. 

She even went the extra mile to collate various photographs and letters written in classic Japanese language and the INA archives to put together the book.

At Tanvi’s home in Bengaluru, the bedtime stories are centered around Asha’s role in the freedom movement. Her children take pride in singing Kadam Kadam Badhaye Ja.

Edited by Padmashree Pande. All photos: Tanvi Srivastava.

We say ‘versatile’ because no matter the occasion — festive or celebratory — you can never go wrong with a box of kaju katli. The filigree foil-coated diamond-shaped pieces of heaven have reigned supreme over the Indian mithai scene for decades now. And they aren’t moving any time soon.

As you let your palate revel in the celebration of flavours the sweet brings to your mouth, have you stopped to wonder whether it was a ‘Eureka!’ moment that led to it or a similar dramatic incident?

You’ll be surprised to know there are two versions, one however holding more popularity than the other. We leave it to you to decide the brains behind the katli.

A result of serendipity

The lesser-known version of the katli’s birth credits the Marathas for it, specifically a chef Bhimrao. As he worked in the 16th-century Maratha kitchens, cooking up a storm of delicacies for the royal family, Chef Bhimrao was always experimenting with ingredients and recipes.

His personal favourite was a Parsi sweet Halwa-e-Farsi made with ground almonds and sugar. Borrowing inspiration from this, the chef created his recipe with cashews substituting the almonds. The resultant kaju katli was applauded by the Marathas who christened it owing to thin slices (katli) made of cashew nuts (kaju). The eponymous sweet became a frequent hero at the royal table and soon found its way to places across India.

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To understand the other version of the sweet’s history, we travel to the 17th-century Mughal era.

A symbol of freedom

The story goes that around 1619, Emperor Jehangir, a prominent ruler of the Mughal dynasty, had captured Sikh gurus, holding them captive in the Gwalior Fort. It is said that Muslim orthodoxy made the emperor perceive Sikhs as a potential threat to the empire.

Among the detainees at the time was the sixth Sikh Guru, Guru Hargovind. While held in captivity, the guru would frequently share his teachings with the other inmates, attempting to make their time more bearable.

Watching this, Emperor Jehangir came up with an unusual condition. The guru would be released and anyone who could cling to his robe would as he walked out of the fort be set free too. Intent on liberating everyone, the guru devised a way around this condition. He ordered the 52 monarchs to make a robe long enough to be worn by everyone in prison.

On the set day, the guru walked out of prison with everyone holding onto the robe. Ironically, this day coincided with Diwali and came to be known as ‘Bandhi Chor Diwas’ to mark the liberation.

Everyone acknowledged Guru Hargovind’s method as ingenious and Jehangir’s royal chef prepared a sweet to commemorate the day. The blend of cashew nuts, sugar and ghee was relished, and needless to say, went down in history as a delicacy.

While both versions reference their unique takes on the history of the sweet, you can go for the one you love.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

Here are their courageous stories of zeal. 

1. Ayyalasomayajula Lalitha

At the age of 18, Lalitha was left to care for her four-month-old daughter following the death of her husband. For no fault of her own, society prescribed her a sentence of isolation. But Lalitha did not let this define her life or her career choices.

As her daughter, Syamala Chenulu, tells The Better India, “When my father passed away, my mother had to suffer more than she should have. Her mother-in-law had lost her 16th child and took out that frustration on the young widow. It was a coping mechanism and today, I understand what she was going through. However, my mother decided not to succumb to societal pressures. She educated herself and earned a respectable job.”

When Lalitha chose the engineering path in 1940, she was the only female among hundreds of boys at the college. But she was soon joined by two other women, PK Thresia and Leelamma George Koshie, who also carved out incredible niches for themselves in the male-dominated profession. 

2. PK Thresia 

When Lalitha expressed her wish to join the four-year engineering program at the College of Engineering, Guindy, University of Madras, her father who was a professor at the college did everything to support her. 

However, getting admitted to the program was the least of her worries as Lalitha eventually discovered. Women were not welcome in a field like engineering. Intent to make his daughter feel at ease, her father put out an ad for other girls who also wished to join the program. Two women took the opportunity – PK Thresia and Leelamma George Koshie.  

Following her degree, Thresia went on to become the first woman chief engineer in the Public Works Department (PWD) in Kerala in 1971, a position she served for eight years. During her service, she commissioned 35 new bridges every year along with road construction projects.

3. Leelamma George Koshie

Among the famous trio of the first three women to study engineering at CEG, one was Koshie. At a time when women in the field of innovation were a rare sight, Koshie made waves with her ideas in the public works department so much so that the Maharani of Travancore was frequently heard motivating other women of the state to take inspiration from her. 

She also sponsored Koshie’s higher education in town planning in England following which, the latter returned to India and worked in Trivandrum.

4. Rajeshwari Chatterjee

It is safe to say that Chatterjee revolutionised the fields of microwave and antennae engineering during her tenure as the chairman of the Department of Communication Engineering at the Indian Institute of Sciences (IISc). The ideas she brought to the table were ingenious, to say the least. 

As Chatterjee writes in her article titled ‘Lucky to Be Where I Am’, published by the Indian Academy of Sciences, “My grandmother, Kamalamma Dasappa, was one of the very first women graduates in the erstwhile Mysore State, and was very active in the field of women’s education.” 

It was after attending her grandmother’s ‘Special English School’ that Chatterjee attended the Central College in Bengaluru where she studied Maths and Physics. In 1953, she joined the IISc,  exploring the gamut of topics related to electron tube circuits and microwave technology. 

5. Shakuntala A Bhagat 

Bhagat was the first Indian woman to obtain a civil engineering degree. She used this to greatly contribute to the architecture of the country. Bhagat’s flair for mechanics was reflected in the projects she undertook along with her husband Anirudha S Bhagat. 

In 1970, the duo launched their brand of strength – Quadricon. The bridge construction firm specialises in prefabricated modular design that they have also patented. It was used to build a bridge at Spiti, Himachal Pradesh in 1972.

By 1978, the company had built 69 bridges from Kashmir to Arunachal Pradesh. Presently, the couple has over 200 Quadricon steel bridges to their name. 

6. A Parvathi Mattancheril 

Parvathi’s most remarkable feat was her being principal of three different women’s polytechnic colleges across her 34-year career, namely Government Polytechnic for Women, Madurai, Dr Dharmambal Government Polytechnic College for Women, Madras and the Government Polytechnic for Women, Coimbatore. 

The young girl from Kerala had always displayed a fond interest in the way things worked and it came as no surprise when she chose the engineering path. Her capabilities and ideas took her places. An anecdote that is often retold is of how Parvathi was the only girl on campus in 1956 such that the University had to hire a female typist just so that Parvathi would have company. 

7. Ila Majumdar 

When the doors of the Bengal Engineering College were opened for women in 1947, Ila took this opportunity to pursue a dream she had long since harboured. In an interview to Telegraph India, she recalled, “Those were the days when few women opted for a career and the handful who did stuck to medicine. I got through the medical entrance too, but engineering was what I wanted to study.”

Ila spent her engineering years in the one-room accommodation on the ground floor of the Principal’s bungalow as she was the only female student among 800 boys. But the taste of success was sweet when she graduated in 1951 as India’s first mechanical engineer. 

While her practical career was taking flight, Ila also published two books ‘Applied Mechanics Through Worked Examples’ and ‘Hydraulics Through Worked Examples.’

8. Mary Mathew 

Hailing from Malabar with her father working as an officer in the British Indian Army, Mathew’s growing up years were greatly influenced by the freedom struggle. Following graduation in electrical engineering in Madras, Mathew joined the Madras State Electricity Board as a junior engineer. She played a vital role in planning for the electricity distribution for the state. 

She was instrumental in spearheading the establishment of the Government Polytechnic College for women in Coimbatore. After eight years here she was sent to Madurai to establish the Government Polytechnic college there. Under Mathew’s leadership, numerous new courses were started at these colleges, empowering many women to pursue engineering. 

Edited by Padmashree Pande

Not just an ordinary King, Jai Singh was also a mathematician, architect, and astronomer. He wanted to choose a place that was strategically important to safeguard his kingdom.

He chose Jaipur, the pink city, which was an unconventional choice at the time as it is set on a plain terrain and surrounded by mountains. But the characteristics of the city matched the King’s vision. He recruited architect Vidyadhar Bhattacharya from Bengal who worked as the King’s chief auditor to help him design the blueprint.

Hence Jaipur, established in 1727, became India’s first planned city.

“The most outstanding feature of Jaipur remains its town plan that is said to be arrived at after a thorough analysis of several town plans sourced by Sawai Jai Singh himself from across the globe. [He] wrote personal letters to personal bankers and merchants, inviting them to settle in his new city, inducing them with tax concessions and gifts of land on which to build elegant courtyard houses, called havelis, for the accommodation of their families,” according to UNESCO.

Every tiny detail in the city was planned — from the orientation of gates to the manuscript scrawled above each shop.

Watch what went into the making of this city, almost three centuries ago:

Edited by Pranita Bhat

Attending a public rally along the banks of the Ganga in Varanasi, a holy city in present-day Uttar Pradesh, this young boy got caught in the midst of a police crackdown.

As they began lathi-charging protestors, this 10-year-old boy “jumped into the River Ganges to hide from the police in between the boats” and hid underwater. Meanwhile, as a 2014 media report notes, “a 10 km swimming competition was going on over the Ganges.”

“To hide himself, he also joined the competition group,” the report goes on to add. To everyone’s bewilderment, he finished third in this race. It was the start of something special.

The young boy’s name was Sachin Nag, a legendary swimming champion and gold medal winner in the men’s 100 m freestyle event at the 1951 Asian Games in New Delhi. Till today, it remains India’s only gold medal in swimming events at the Asian Games.

For the love of swimming

Born into a Bengali family in Varanasi in 1920, Nag found his love for swimming on the Ganga. From the moment he surprised everyone in that accidental race in 1930, he competed in many local swimming competitions till 1936 and often finished in the first two positions.

In the following year, Jamini Das, a well-known swimmer, coach and captain of the Indian water polo team in the 1948 London Olympics, made his way to Varanasi from Kolkata (Calcutta). Representing the Calcutta-based Hatkhola Club, Das was accompanied by young swimming talent who had come to compete in a competition in Varanasi. At this competition, Das saw a young and untrained Nag beat the best his club had to offer.

Upon witnessing this talent, Das invited Nag to come to Calcutta and train with him. In this new bustling city, the young Nag trained with the club and stayed at Das’ house. For Nag, moving to Calcutta was the break he needed to train and compete at a higher level. Nag began training and competing on behalf of the Hatkhola Club in the Bengal state championships.

Suffice it to say, he beat the best the region had to offer, starting with the 100 m and 400 m freestyle events in 1938. In the following year, he equalled the national record for the 100 m freestyle event with a time of 1 minute and 4 seconds. At the same competition, he broke the record in the 200 m freestyle event with a time of 2 minutes and 29 seconds. In 1940, he broke the 100 m freestyle record set by fellow swimmer Dilip Mitra with a time of 1 minute and 4 seconds.

According to his biography, this record stood for 31 years. He would go on to win the state 100 m freestyle title continuously for nine years. By the mid-1940s, however, Nag began harbouring dreams of competing on a world stage, particularly the London Olympics of 1948.

Tragedy followed by resilience

Tragically, a year before in January 1947, Nag suffered a serious injury which could have jeopardised his chances of making it to the Olympic Games. This was a time of great violence and chaos. Only a couple of months earlier, Calcutta had witnessed bloody communal riots.

While there isn’t much evidence of how the accident actually took place, what remains uncontested is that Nag was returning from a training session when a bullet struck him on his right leg, shattering his femur. Severely injured, he was admitted to a hospital for five months.

After he was discharged, the doctor told him that it would take at least two years before he could get back to swimming. It was evident that Nag’s chance at competing in the Olympics was under severe jeopardy. Determined to compete, he resumed training just six months after the injury.

To facilitate his recovery, he returned to his family in Varanasi and rejoined a local swimming club while getting treatment from local masseurs. But recovering from a serious injury wasn’t the only hurdle he had to overcome. Back in the late 1940s, athletes representing India had to bear a great deal of the expenses required to compete in such tournaments.

To pay for his trip to London, he took up work washing vehicles in the wee hours before training. Despite taking up all sorts of work, he couldn’t gather the requisite funds. Nag was about to give up on his dream when Hemanta Mukhopadhyay, a singer, heard about his plight and decided to raise funds. One of the ways in which the singer raised funds was through a musical performance at the Uttara Cinema Hall in North Calcutta.

Nag finally had the money to realise his dream of competing in the Olympics. He finished in sixth place at the 1948 London Olympics in the 100 m freestyle event. What’s more, he also played for the Indian water polo team and scored four goals in a 7–4 win versus Chile.

Moment of Glory

Nag’s moment of glory, however, came three years later at the inaugural edition of the Asian Games in New Delhi. In a dazzling display on 8 March, 1951, he secured gold in the 100 m freestyle event with a time of 1 minute and 4.7 seconds.

Watching Nag perform his magic in the audience was Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. According to media reports, Nehru was so overjoyed that he broke protocol, embraced Nag, and presented him with the red rose from the breast pocket of his coat. 

According to press reports, Nag noted how this was one of the greatest moments in his life. Besides winning gold in the 100 m freestyle, he also picked bronze medals in the 4×100 m freestyle relay and the 3×100 m freestyle relay. He would also go on to compete in the 1952 Helsinki Olympics, representing India in water polo.

Following his incredible achievements in the pool, he would train future generations of Indian swimmers — including Arati Saha, the first Asian woman to cross the English channel in 1959, and Nafisa Ali, a national champion in the early 1970s who was also crowned Miss World.

Desire for recognition, acknowledgement

Despite his many achievements for the country against incredible odds, Nag passed away on 19 August, 1987, without real recognition or financial support.

Speaking to The Hindu in 2014, Ashoke Kumar Nag, his son and a Kolkata-based insurance agent at the time, recalled, “He yearned for recognition from the government. Not financial considerations but the acknowledgement of his service to the sport and the country.”

For years, Ashoke tried to secure his father’s legacy but was often met with bureaucratic apathy and rejection. On multiple occasions, he reached out to the Sports Ministry to bestow an award to his father posthumously in recognition of his achievements, and he never gave up.

In August 2020, Nag was awarded the Dhyan Chand Award for lifetime achievement in sports. Finally, one of post-Independence India’s first sporting superstars received the recognition he deserved. Ideally, he should have been celebrated during his lifetime, but better late than never.

(Edited by Pranita Bhat; Pictures courtesy Wikipedia and Twitter)

Sources:

‘Honour for pool pioneer’ by Arindam Bandyopadhyay; Published on 29 August 2020 by The Telegraph

‘Sachin Nag – a forgotten legend by Vijay Lokapally’; Published on 29 September 2014 by The Hindu

‘The long wait ends for India’s first Asiad gold medallist Sachin Nag’ by Nihal Koshie; Published on 29 August 2020 for The Indian Express

‘India’s first Asian Games gold medallist Sachin Nag’ by Venkat Ananth; Published on 29 September 2014 by Livemint

Born in 1923 in Mysuru, Satyan’s first tryst with photography was in school when his English teacher loaned him money to buy a camera, sensing the student’s keen eye.

Satyan and the camera he bought for Rs 350 were inseparable. It won him accolades and love from those who watched his work. An interesting anecdote is of how Satyan attempted to repay his teacher for this gift, but the latter instead asked him to develop a picture book on Karnataka. Years later when Satyan became an accomplished photographer, he returned to his teacher with the said book that even featured text by journalist and writer H Y Sharada Prasad.

But while Satyan’s foray into photography began in his early years it wasn’t until 1948 that he delved into it professionally.

From a humble background to his work getting recognised on global platforms, his story is an inspiring one. And he is rightly dubbed the ‘Father of Indian Photojournalism’. We take a look at his incredible journey and the moments that shaped his career.

The fated photographer

Following a graduation in Arts from Maharaja’s College, Mysuru, Satyan joined as an engine inspector at Hindustan Aeronautics. He then worked as a teacher at a school followed by working as a newsreader at the ‘Akashvani’ radio station. All this time, he remained connected with his first love of photography.

So in 1948, when a vacancy opened up for a staff photographer at the newly launched Deccan Herald — an English daily based in Karnataka — Satyan grabbed the opportunity. This was his first professional stint with a camera and he delivered to impress.

His trademark black-and-white pictures chronicled Bengaluru’s mood. Satyan made his mark as one of India’s earliest photojournalists at a time when photography was limited to portraits. Since his assignment in the Deccan Herald, Satyan spent the next 60 years documenting both the momentous and regular moments in Indian history.

There was a certain magic to the pictures he captured as if stealing a moment in time from his subject’s life. As he once wrote, “My photography are slices of human life, gentle and personal. Their aim is to let the viewer see all by himself. They tend not to preach, not to pose as art.”

Satyan always emphasised that his pictures were not the result of encounters between events and him but rather a witness to interesting moments in time and in the lives of people he met. “Photography has enabled me to save them from vanishing into thin air and to give them a life of their own.”

Among the many iconic moments he covered were the merger of Pondicherry with the Union of India in 1954, the Satyagraha against Portuguese rule in Goa during the 1950s, Pope Paul VI’s visit to India in 1964, and the smallpox eradication campaign organised by the World Health Organisation (WHO) between 1961–63. In 1977, he was awarded the Padma Shri for his work.

Not just iconic events but iconic people too were part of Satyan’s subjects — such as Nobel laureate C V Raman, filmmaker Satyajit Ray, Pt Jawaharlal Nehru, the Dalai Lama, and Pope Paul VI.

But he maintained till the last that amidst the honours and accolades, his expertise lay in capturing the ordinary moments and the mundanity of routine life. From weddings in rural India, and polling booths in the 1970s to surgical procedures at AIIMS Delhi and Bangladesh refugees, Satyan captured it all.

As he recalled in an interview, “My people are not the rich and the famous. They are the simple, ordinary folk. They do not hit the headlines, yet my people are people who matter. They were there when I picked up the camera six decades ago, and they have been there every time I have gone back to capture the interesting moments in their lives.”

While his photography made waves, his words did too.

Satyan’s memoir ‘Alive and Clicking’ published in 2005 tells the story of the days he spent in Afghanistan, Arunachal Pradesh and Sikkim amongst others and the brief encounters that led to some of his best work. As he writes, “When you spend eighty summers on one planet with a camera in hand, things happen, events occur, and you have a bunch of experiences and encounters because you were there at the right time at the right place.” 

Satyan passed away in 2009 in Mysore but not before leaving behind a legacy of work. 

Here’s a look at it:

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

The corporate executive-turned-storyteller made it clear from the start that he never planned to conduct the “regular” heritage walks. “What I am trying to do is tell the story of India in Bengaluru,” adds Pai, now in his 50s.

In 2004, after a brief 7-year stint in the corporate world, Pai decided he wanted more from life than a corner cabin and its perks.  During a business trip to London, he spent the major part of his days exploring the city, going on heritage walks, and wondering why India lacked these experiences.

On returning to Bengaluru, the feeling of diving into something creative overtook him. He bade goodbye to the corporate world and started ‘Bangalore Walks’, literally and figuratively taking the road less travelled.

Over the years, these walks have given the residents of the metropolis as well as celebrated personalities a chance to fall in love with the city’s unseen side.

During the early years of starting, Pai began to be identified as the man who showed up every Sunday morning at 7 on Bengaluru’s MG Road ready to begin his signature three-hour-long ‘Victorian Bangalore Walk’.

Come rain or shine, this was a weekly ritual. And the number of people who turned up never deterred his spirit. “Sometimes it was a handful, other times a crowd.” But Pai saw to it that the show went on. And today, he has taken over 30,000 people on more than 1,500 heritage walks.

Taking Indian history from textbooks to the world 

It is intriguing how a city that banks on its weekends after a five-day drill, is enthusiastic about rediscovering its history. The credit goes to the allure that Pai has managed to create around these walks. Praise him and he says this is where storytelling comes in.

Circling back to how it all started and where the board game Monopoly plays a role, Pai reminisces his own days of playing it. “King’s Cross Station, Mayfair, Piccadilly…these places were rooted in our memory. We could roll the dice, buy a property, and pay rent.”

He didn’t realise how the game was impacting him until his first trip to London revealed how he knew the city like the back of his hand. “I realised it wasn’t a simple game. It was designed with the intent of bringing the city alive in the imagination of kids whose only source of information was these board games back in the day.”

Ironically, while London seemed so familiar, Delhi did not. And Pai is quick to note the reason. “The only place we have learnt Indian history is in textbooks.”

That same year, with a desire to tell India’s story to anyone who would listen, he started ‘Bangalore Walks’. While fleshing out the idea for this initiative, he was firm that his focus would not lie on museums and monuments. Every street in the city boasts a story and Pai would find it and tell it.

A love affair with Bengaluru

The boom of startups and unicorns in Bengaluru has attracted people from all walks of life. Explaining the same history to these syncretic communities must be a challenge, I tell Pai. But he disagrees.

“Heritage walks usually focus on monuments and architecture. Engaging narration is lacking. The stories are becoming scripted, passed from one guide to the next. Tourism starts becoming a commodity. What I aim to do is tailor-make the story depending on the audience,” he shares.

It was this intent that compelled him to go to a bustling MG Road in Bengaluru and design a walk there as opposed to a well-known heritage site. “If I can get people to be interested in a familiar street they think they know, and see it in a new way, I have achieved what I set out to do.”

But deviating from the norm also meant Pai needed to brush up his knowledge of the city and figure out stories for himself that hadn’t made their way to the Internet. The beauty of this approach, he says, is that he began creating a story of his own along the way. And people loved it.

“What one needs to remember is that if it’s engaging for you, it’s also engaging for people who think like you.” Citing one example, he says “It’s easy going to a monument and talking about how it was built, it’s architectural details and ending the walk by saying the monument stood as a symbol of love.” But that isn’t all there is to it.

“What is the monument’s role geopolitically? What space did it fill in Indian history? What was going on in other parts of India and the world when this monument was built? How is it connected to other monuments the audience has seen? These are the questions I try answering,” he adds.

Discovering the secret sauce that makes the city ‘click’

While the walks do not have a set theme, Pai improvises along the way depending on the audience he is catering to. And he delivers every time.

Today, the model caters to specific groups as opposed to public walks. A group of 25 individuals from a policy think tank in the city who recently attended one of the walks will agree. After three hours spent covering what they thought were familiar areas in the city centre, (near their office), the group was enthralled by this new lens through which they were seeing it.

For Pai, it was the same route he took with all his groups, but the storytelling differed. “As there were retired army personnel and defence strategists in the group, I ended up talking about the military DNA of Bangalore more than I would to a bunch of school children for whom that is not so exciting. So you see, the slant changes.”

One of his favourite stories along the walks is narrating about the “dramatic” Battle of Bangalore that took place in 1791. After mortal combat with Tipu Sultan’s army, the Bangalore Fort was captured, leaving thousands of Mysoreans dead. “People know of the Battle of Panipat and Plassey but not this event, which had an equally large impact on India, if not more,” notes Pai. He adds, “This is an interesting story of the role the fall of Bengaluru played in our history, and I tell it in such a fashion that people want to learn more about it.”

Every story picked up by  Pai — the lores of the city’s churches, the mapping of India that began in the city — has global appeal and is infused with personal anecdotes. Often in the course of the walk, Pai gets asked about the “Christmas trees” that line the roads. He then stops and narrates how they came to be.

“Did you know they are actually from New Zealand?” he asks me. I didn’t.

“These 60-foot trees are so prevalent these days that most people think they are native to the city. But it is interesting to know that they were brought here almost 200 years ago as part of a massive botanical experiment by British and Indian scientists. They were trying to understand how to classify the world’s trees and plants,” he informs.

“Since the city is not too high, not too low, not too wet, not too dry, it turned out to be a conducive environment for these very foreign trees to grow. Today these ‘Christmas trees’ (Norfolk Island Pines) have acclimatised to this climate and soil and have become local.” 

Pai has narrated these and other stories of the city to some of the most influential people — including global MD of McKinsey Dominic Barton, president of Microsoft Brad Smith, Infosys founder NR Narayanamurthy, India’s Chief Economic Advisor Anantha Nageswaran, US Digital Ambassador Nathaniel Fick, former PM of Australia Kevin Rudd and comedian Trevor Noah.

As Nageswaran recounts, “I was so happy that my friends from iSPIRT arranged for me to join Arun Pai’s Bengaluru walk on 24 July. He was simply brilliant with his erudition, wit, and deep understanding of the history of the world, the country, and the city. His pride in being a Bangalorean came through so well that I was infected with that pride. He made Sir M Visweswaraiya and the Mysore Maharaja come alive with his vivid descriptions of their vision and their contributions to the city and the country. It was a perfect start to the day and made my short visit to Bengaluru entirely memorable.”

But in the midst of this adulation, one experience outshines it all — India’s Presidency of the G20 Summit in 2023. Karnataka played host to over 10 important summit meetings over the year including the G20 Summit. And Pai was the official representative of the Government of Karnataka for designing and planning the city tours and excursions to the last detail — including sites around cities like Mysuru, Hampi, and Bengaluru.

Recalling the experience at Hampi, Pai says it was phenomenal.

“Over the course of the three days, I highlighted globally relevant stories of India’s history, culture and society to over 200 delegates from 20 countries. We were given a clear task by Amitabh Kant — India’s Sherpa. He wanted us to provide the right context, background and experiences so that the splendour, scale and sagacity of the Vijayanagar Empire could be effectively communicated to the high-empowered global audience.”

For Pai, each walk is a creative utilisation of everything he has discovered about the city. He concludes by emphasising something I couldn’t agree with more —

“I am not a heritage walker. I am India’s storyteller.”

Edited by Pranita Bhat

From breaking the gender barrier in the world of wildlife conservation to playing an instrumental role in the drafting legislation that governs wildlife protection in India today, and personally pushing through the creation of a number of Protected Areas while working closely with local communities and bureaucracies, Anne was a changemaker in the truest sense.

It’s an awe-inspiring story of advocacy, commitment, compassion, and perseverance. Suffice it to say, it’s impossible to capture Anne’s work entirely given its immense scope and breadth. However, it’s possible to capture some of its fascinating highlights with assistance from wildlife historian Raza Kazmi, who knew Anne and her family well.

A woman of the forests

Born in 1929, Anne spent a lot of her childhood in the forests of what are today the tiger reserves of Melghat and Kanha in the erstwhile Central Provinces. After all her father was an officer with the erstwhile Indian Civil Service (ICS) serving in the Central Provinces that include parts of present-day Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh and Maharashtra.

According to this 2013 tribute written by the Sanctuary Nature Foundation, “As a child, she [Anne Wright] would search for scorpions, follow tigers’ pugmarks on golf courses and watch panthers leap across the parapets of Amravati’s rugged Gawilgarh Fort.”

Despite her fascination with wildlife, Anne lived at a time when big game hunting was still commonplace. Speaking to The Better India, wildlife historian Raza Kazmi says, “Anne Wright and her husband Robert Hamilton Wright (Bob Wright to those who knew him) had begun coming to the forests of Palamau (in present-day Jharkhand) from about 1949–50 onwards.”

“In those days, as was the norm, most of Bob’s friends liked doing a bit of hunting and the forests of Palamau were a favourite among hunters based in Calcutta (Kolkata). Moreover, the British conglomerate Bob was working for at the time in Calcutta, Andrew Yule & Co Ltd, had one of its major supply sites in Palamau. Anne, who had started living with her husband in Calcutta by then, would come along with Bob often. She never hunted but used these visits to get to know these forests of Palamau quite intimately over the next few years,” adds Raza.

Anne always carried a deep love and admiration for India’s forests and wildlife. But it was only in the mid-1960s when conservation really became a part of her life following regular visits to the jungles of present-day Bihar and Jharkhand, and particularly after the onset of the Great Bihar Famine of 1966–67 which took a massive toll on the local wildlife.

Saving Palamau

From 1949–50 onwards, Anne’s family would regularly visit the forests of Palamau (known for its tigers) located in the Latehar district (formerly part of Palamau district) of present-day Jharkhand. According to Raza, “While Anne had always been a forest and wildlife enthusiast, given her childhood spent in the wilds of Central Provinces with her father, she told me that it was the naturalist EP Gee (credited with the discovery of the Gee golden langur) who was instrumental in guiding her towards a life of wildlife conservation.”

“By the 1960s, Anne had begun noticing a decline in wildlife in Palamau and began actively trying to do her bit to address it. Over the years she had cultivated friendship with a lot of committed and like-minded forest officers of undivided Bihar among whom SP Shahi was the most prominent. When the 1967 Great Famine of Bihar hit Palamau, Anne dropped everything, collected funds from various donors, and came to Palamau to do her bit to help out both the affected communities and the wildlife that was perishing during this crisis as well,” he adds.

Anne spent months in remote forest bungalows in the forests of Palamau and worked tirelessly to organise communal meals and water supply for the people. She also developed waterholes for the bewildered wildlife that was coming out of the forests in search of water and getting killed in the process.

“Her fortitude and toughness earned her the respect of the forest bureaucracy and her kindness touched many of the local Adivasi communities who in most cases completely relied on the food, water and medicines provided by Anne’s team for relief,” notes Raza.

However, she had begun realising that the forests and wildlife of Palamau could not be protected in the long run with just individual efforts. She also knew that it would need an institutional support system both within and outside the government to make meaningful long-term change. According to Raza, those were the days when funds were severely lacking for the forest department with almost nothing for the management of wildlife or their protection.

“So, she started working on both fronts for Palamau. She worked tirelessly in convincing and lobbying the political class at the State and Union government levels on the importance of Palamau and the preservation of its wildlife. Simultaneously, she helped set up the India chapter of the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) in 1969 and ensured that Palamau was among the first forests that the organisation focused its energies upon,” explains Raza.

He adds that she began helping the forest department itself with making a case for this forest from within the system. Anne brought top ecologists and experts from IUCN (International Union for Conservation of Nature) and WWF — such as Dr Colin Holloway — to visit Palamau. She got them to train the officers and staff there in the latest techniques of wildlife management, while also helping them draw a wildlife management plan for this region.

“In fact, Anne spent long hours with Dr Holloway, SP Shahi and other forest officers like RP Singh and JP Sinha in devising the first comprehensive wildlife management plan in India’s history for a ‘Game Sanctuary’. Such a plan was almost unheard of in the pre-Wildlife (Protection) Act era,” he says.

Before the introduction of the Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972, a wildlife-rich forest was sometimes notified as a ‘Game Sanctuary’. 

Meanwhile, Anne also helped in advising the forest officers in Palamau with creating the necessary infrastructure for the management and conservation of wildlife in the region, and also ensuring that the funds-starved offices of Palamau Forest Division (under which these forests lay) got funding from non-governmental sources and donors, “the biggest of which was WWF where she had considerable say and influence,” adds Raza.

While she was doing all this groundwork while being in the field at Palamau, she was simultaneously pushing for Palamau’s protection at the Union Government level as well.

From Palamau to Project Tiger

Her work, however, wasn’t just restricted to the forests of Palamau. She was also investigating the growing big cat skin trade in Kolkata. In 1970, she wrote an article published in The Statesman which describes in harrowing detail the illegal sale of tiger and leopard skins in Kolkata. The article was republished in The New York Times (NYT), causing a global storm.

As Raza notes, “The article was debated heavily in the Indian Parliament, and it isn’t an exaggeration to say that this article, along with the damning photographs on the scale of tiger hunting especially for skin trade, convinced the then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi to ban tiger hunting the very same year (1970). That was the power of her pen.”

“It didn’t stop there. The global outcry in the aftermath of NYT republishing her article led to an outpouring of support for tiger conservation in India in terms of funds, resources and expertise. It culminated in the landmark ‘Operation Tiger’ that began in 1971 and eventually transformed into Project Tiger. Following the start of Operation Tiger, a task force of forest officers, conservationists and other eminent personalities was set up by the Indian government. Often known as India’s ‘First Tiger Task Force’, it was tasked with identifying areas for central funding and guidance for tiger conservation,” he adds.

The second such task force was formed in 2005 following reports in the media on the sudden disappearance of tigers from the Sariska Wildlife Reserve. 

Anne was the only female member of this task force, and this is where she spoke vociferously about the inclusion of Palamau’s forests as one such area.

The fact that she had done so much groundwork in coordination with the concerned forest officers there now became a very important factor in helping her case for Palamau. Thus, eventually when the Task Force submitted its final report titled ‘Project Tiger’, Palamau was among the eight forests identified in the final report for central funding and handholding.

“This report then ushered in the Project Tiger scheme, and Palamau became one of the inaugural nine tiger reserves. Anne continued being involved in helping the tiger reserve management all through the 1970s, and by the early 1980s, Palamau was being ranked as one of the best-managed tiger reserves in the entire country. Besides Palamau, she also supported the cause for Similipal in Odisha, which also became a tiger reserve,” notes Raza.

Going further, she was also appointed by the Indian government to help draft the landmark Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972. Interestingly, according to Raza, she sourced a copy of the Kenyan Wildlife Act [from the Kenyan national polo team that had visited Kolkata to play a couple of matches], which alongside the Bombay Animals Act was among the two key legislative influences in the drafting of the final Wildlife (Protection) Act.

Helping establish other Protected Areas

“Without Anne, there would have been no Dalma Wildlife Sanctuary, a critical elephant habitat abutting Jamshedpur. She actively worked with the highest offices at the Union and State government levels to get it notified as a sanctuary in 1976,” says Raza.

Anne first visited Dalma soon after WWF came to India (WWF-India was founded in 1969). At the time, she was heading the Eastern Branch of the organisation. After her visit to these forests that lay adjacent to the famous steel city of Jamshedpur, she wrote an article for the WWF Newsletter in 1974 and began working to protect these forests. 

By then, the Wildlife (Protection) Act had come into effect, and she lobbied hard with the Bihar forest department, the union government and the Tata Group, the standout private corporation in the area, to protect the forests of Dalma.

“She ensured that the plight of Dalma, its elephants, and wildlife, and the problem of unregulated customary hunting that was rapidly depleting the local fauna got enough press in Calcutta-based dailies as well as in WWF Newsletters and other publications. Meanwhile, funds for building basic infrastructure for wildlife management in these forests were arranged through the Tata Group, WWF, and other donors. Besides, she was also hard at work convincing the state government to provide financial support here as well,” notes Raza.

Similarly, she worked on mapping the best quality habitats that could be notified as a wildlife sanctuary with officers like SP Shahi and conservationists like Ashok Kumar, founder of the now well-known Wildlife Trust of India (WTI). She also launched a massive campaign to popularise Dalma among school students and Tata offices in Jamshedpur through the WWF.

“In addition, she lobbied hard for this forest in her meetings in Delhi as a member of the Indian Board for Wildlife, which was presided over by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Eventually, two years after Anne first wrote about Dalma and began her efforts to secure this landscape, the forests of Dalma hills were notified as a wildlife sanctuary on 1 December 1976,” he adds.

Besides the Palamau Tiger Reserve and Dalma Wildlife Sanctuary, Anne was also responsible for the creation of other Protected Areas like the Balphakram National Park in Meghalaya (1986) and Neora Valley National Park in West Bengal (1986).

“Moreover, she cared deeply for the communities around the forest. In fact, her progression to becoming someone who dedicated her life towards wildlife conservation came in many ways because of her experience serving the remotest forest villages of Palamau during the Great Bihar Famine of 1967. Palamau was one of the epicentres of this famine. She camped for weeks at remote spartan forest bungalows like Kumandih (now lost) with her team from Calcutta providing relief for the starving masses by putting up open kitchens, water and food supplies, medical support, etc,” he says.

Anne served on the Indian Board for Wildlife for 19 years, besides the Wildlife Boards of seven states from Meghalaya to the Andamans. She also established the Rhino Foundation and supported numerous organisations involved in the conservation of the rhino including Aaranyak. Recognising her incredible service to wildlife conservation, she was awarded the Order of the Golden Ark in 1979 and the ‘Most Excellent Order of the British Empire’ (MBE) in 1983.

In 1982, she came back to the jungles of Kanha, where she grew up as a child, to establish Kipling [wildlife] Camp. She spent the last three years of her life in these forests with her daughter Belinda Wright, who herself has made incredible contributions to tiger and wildlife conservation in India, and according to Raza remains “Anne’s finest legacy”.

Legacy

Besides raising Belinda, Anne leaves behind an incredible legacy in just the incredible breadth and depth of her work. “This breadth is both temporal as she played an active role in the conservation of wildlife in India for more than 50 years and geographic since her active field conservation work spanned from Madhya Pradesh to the remote valleys of Meghalaya, the mangroves of Sunderbans, wilds of Odisha, rainforests of Andamans, and the forests of Chhattisgarh, the Chota Nagpur Plateau, and Terai,” says Raza.

And she was doing all this at a time when conservation, and especially field conservation, was almost entirely an exclusively male domain. In her younger days, she was working in forests that were hardly visited by any naturalist, much less anyone worrying about their conservation.

Her work could range from charting up a management plan for a single forest to working in framing a nationwide policy as she did during her years in the Tiger Task Force or as an important member involved in the framing of the Wildlife (Protection) Act.

“Moreover, what strikes out the most to me is her ability to forge alliances over common cause across an incredibly diverse set of people and stakeholders — from forest officers to politicians in high offices; from businessmen to communities living around forests; from celebrities and global and national public figures to young school kids; and from naturalists to policymakers. She worked with everyone and brought them together for the cause of conservation,” notes Raza.

“I can think of very few people, perhaps none, in India’s conservation history who single-handedly worked over such a long period, over so many states, and with so many diverse sets of peoples and interests in such harmony, and brought about such remarkable results. And of course who can forget the power of her pen,” he adds.

(Edited by Pranita Bhat; Images courtesy Raza Kazmi, Wildlife Protection Society of India (WPSI)/Facebook and Kipling Camp/Facebook)

Visiting an old library feels like entering a time machine, with each book belonging to a different era. On one end, a scientist is discussing his inventions, while on the other end, an iconic Jane Austen heroine is rejecting a marriage proposition.

As Albert Einstein once said, “The only thing that you absolutely have to know is the location of the library.” Inspired by his words, The Better India decided to make a list of libraries in India that still retain the old world’s charm. 

1. Goschen Library, Chennai

Situated in the heart of Chennai in Tamil Nadu, this iconic library is 96 years old. With its charming yellow-painted walls, the place smells of history. The library was set up by P Vijiaraguvulu Chetty and was constructed in English-style architecture. It was built to foster a habit of reading among people. 

The library was frequently visited by Lady Goschen, the wife of the Governor of Madras. Subsequently, the library was named after her. In its glory days, the library housed about 15,000 books. Even today, the historical library boasts a rich collection of Tamil and English literature. 

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2. National Library, Kolkata 

Speaking of iconic libraries without mentioning the National Library would be unfair. The library has 86,000 maps, 3,200 manuscripts and a history that dates from the British Raj. Opened in 1836 as the Calcutta Public Library, it was renamed the Imperial Library in 1903 and then the National Library in 1953. 

A report suggests that “It was on these very grounds that Warren Hastings and his council member, Philip Francis, fought an early morning duel in August 1780.” Currently, the place holds a collection of digitised copies, books in 18 Indian languages, departments of foreign languages, Indian and foreign official documents, periodicals etc. 

3. Connemara Public Library, Chennai

Inaugurated in 1896, Connemara Public Library is another one of the libraries in India that dates back to the British era. Designed by Henry Irwin, the same architect behind the historical Mysore Palace, the building is made in a typical Indo-Saracenic style.

As per a Homegrown report, “High wooden ceilings and carved mouldings, beautifully carved teak wood bookshelves, intricate patterns and floral motifs along the pillars; walking into the library is almost like entering a time capsule.” The library has over 6,00,000 books in its collection. 

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4. State Central Library, Bengaluru

Located in the heart of Bengaluru’s beloved Cubbon Park, the State Central Library with its bright red exteriors is eye-catching. As per an Indian Express report, “The State Central Library, housed in the Seshadri Iyer Memorial Hall, has existed since the building started to be used as a library 108 years ago. The origin of the building, however, goes back to Sir Seshadri Iyer, who had served for eighteen years as the dewan of the princely state of Mysore.” 

Pride of every Bangalorean, the library houses over 3,140,000 books; its shelves are packed with everything from books in braille, to academic books and research material to rare periodicals. It was awarded the Raja Rammohan Roy Library Foundation Award for the best State library in the country in 1999. 

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5. Eloor Libraries, Kochi

Established in 1976, Eloor Libraries are a chain of libraries which are well-loved by the residents. While most libraries try to keep up with the times, Eloor Libraries have stayed true to their old-world charms. As per a report, “With its hand-painted signage and having largely retained its original appearance from its initial days, it offers an escape into simpler times.” 

Founded by book lover and reader, P Luiz John, the library is not just a place that holds books but a place of nostalgia for residents of Kochi. According to Scroll, each branch of Eloor Libraries has 10,000 to 12,000 registered members and has a collection of 70,000 books in their libraries. 

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6. Hardayal Municipal Public Library, Delhi

Located in Delhi’s beloved Chandni Chowk, the library was given a new face in 2021 while keeping its authenticity. Originally established in 1862, the library, initially known as the Institute Library, was named in honour of a freedom fighter. It was originally created as a reading room for the British within the Lawrence Institute, which is now the Town Hall. 

The library has a stock of 1,70,000 books and as per an India Today report, “The library houses one of the country’s finest collection of antiquarian books, including a print of Sir Walter Raleigh’s History of the World (1676), a series of early British Indian travelogues and hand-written and gold illuminated translations of Hindu and Muslim religious works.” 

7. The Federation Hall Society, Kolkata

Many living in Kolkata pass The Federation Hall Society but only a few are aware that it also serves as a library. Back in 1905, when the British were trying to divide Bengal, protests were brewing all over the city. On 16 October, thousands of people assembled on the very site of the library to protest the government’s move. 

Ananda Mohan Bose, a fierce leader and politician, was the one who suggested the foundation of The Federation Hall with a library which will serve as a place for national gatherings and meetings on different subjects. 

8. Sri Aurobindo Bhavan Library, Kolkata 

Located on 8 Shakespeare Sarani in Kolkata, Aurobindo’s birthplace was converted into a library to preserve his memory and his love for reading and books. The place has a general and children’s library. 

According to a report, “The former offers over 40,000 books and around 100 periodicals, while the latter houses about 35,000 books in English, Bengali and Hindi along with an updated reference service for children.” The admission is on request and you can click here to become a member. 

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So, how many of these iconic libraries have you visited so far? 

(Edited by Padmashree Pande)

(Feature image credit: Vinaya K)

“It was by sheer chance that I got to complete an idol and deliver it to the client one day. My brother, who was to work on it, got caught up elsewhere due to bad weather. With a deadline looming large, I took on the work as a challenge and completed it. Everyone was happy with the outcome and that was when I started getting noticed,” she recalls.

In Kolkata’s famed potter’s quarter Kumartuli, the business of making idols has long been male-dominated. The locality is the centre of the magic and frenzy of Durga Puja, the biggest festival in West Bengal. It is in the small lanes of Kumartuli where hundreds of idols are made and shipped to the city and suburbs.

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Despite society’s resistance for a woman to make idols, Mala jumped at the opportunity to help her brother. Today her unique foldable miniature Durga idols have a customer base in places like Australia, Canada and Europe.

Additionally, she also runs a school that teaches idol-making and aims to pass on this centuries-old craft to the coming generations.

“In my class, I even have students as young as seven and eight years of age. They come because they are keen on learning. Even if a few of these students decide to take this up professionally, I will feel accomplished,” she says.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

But today, she prides herself on creating a new life from the ground up. Ask her where she bustles off every morning with a spring in her step, and she says it is to meet the demands of her happy customers.

Kanak is referring to her job at the production unit of ‘Maa Kali Rabri Bhandar’ — one of the many rabri units in the village of Ainya. This along with another village Gangpur — both collectively known as Rabrigram for their synonymity with the sweet — are Kolkata’s prime rabri distribution villages, which have given hundreds of women like Kanak both, financial freedom and a purpose.

They won’t deny, however, that work is tough at the bhandar. It involves hours of laborious stirring of the milk rendering a thick pudding-like consistency dessert, which is then packed and sold to shops across the city. Kanak herself is able to produce 16 kg of rabri a day — a fact she declares with pride.

For this, she is paid Rs 12,000 a month, which she channels into the home expenses and her son’s school fees. She credits Avijit Patra with turning her destiny around. The 28-year-old has been at the helm of Maa Kali Rabri Bhandar since 2020, prior to which his father was spearheading operations.

The multiple rabri units spread across the villages of Hooghly seem to function almost like clockwork to produce tons of sweet delight every day. It is almost like a movement that has been perfected over the years to fulfil India’s rabri requirements.

However, history and Avjit differ slightly in their theories on the origin of rabri in Kolkata. The former believes it is a result of the migration of Bengalis from Varanasi, while the latter credits a gentleman Pannalal Balti for the ingenious idea.

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A tale of clotted cream

More than four decades ago around the 1980s, a sweet maker Pannalal Balti working in a shop in Bhawanipur, Kolkata, decided to make rabri. It was a success, and the growing number of customers was a testament. Though the business saw great traction, Pannalal did not receive a hike for his services, causing him to quit the village and return to his native Ainya.

Here, he set up a sweet shop where he continued to churn out the dessert in large batches. Avijit notes how families across Hooghly began joining Pannalal in his quest to make the dessert, and soon, more than 70 families were part of the sweet-making process.

Believe it or not, all the present-day bhandars are legacies of Pannalal, says Avijit, whose father closely worked with Pannalal himself. As he talks about the inception of Kolkata’s rabri units, he notes that the passage of time has only sweetened the process further.

“Pannalal ji never had any children nor anyone to continue his legacy. My father worked with him for a long time, and once he passed away, my father started the Maa Kali Rabri Bhandar 25 years ago. We also started the Ainya Rabrigram Industrial Cooperative Society Ltd with all the rabri makers who had worked with Pannalal ji.”

Though Avijit held a fascination for the art of rabri, his dreams were different. “I wanted to be a school teacher and so moved to Kolkata in 2017, where I completed my master’s in history, followed by my BEd studies.”

However, life had other plans for him which were revealed three years ago.

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State officials from the Kolkata Government visited the village. They had heard of the rabri units and saw great potential to develop the industry here further.

“Someone was needed to lead the movement from the front. While I had intended to take up a job as a school teacher in Kolkata, I returned to my village where I was elected as the chairperson of the rabri makers society,” notes Avijit.

Serving Kolkata sweet nostalgia

Having Avijit at the fore of operations witnessed a number of transformations in the venture. He shares, “The first thing I did was to introduce hygiene protocols in the kitchens. Also, traditionally the rabri would be made using coal fires, which wasn’t very conducive. I switched to LPG which makes the process simpler and more cost effective.”

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With so many bhandars emerging, most of them non-descript, Avijit emphasises the importance of having licenses in place. He shares stories of the initial days when he’d encourage the unit workers to register their units, obtain their food licences, and register the businesses as MSMEs. He also helped them with availing loans through government schemes.

These have a dual purpose. Not only will the registrations boost business, but they will also pave the way for obtaining a GI tag — a feat that Avijit has been working on for months.

The GI status will also mean they can start selling the rabri outside the city and all across India. “Maybe even abroad!” he shares.

Getting a GI tag, albeit lucrative, is not easy. “There is a process that is followed,” explains Avijit. “Documents need to be submitted following which officials will survey the village, our processing techniques, the materials and utensils used, etc. Once they find everything to be in order, they will grant us the status.”

But to Avijit, the GI tag is only one of the feathers in the village’s cap. He says the other is women empowerment, which they have managed to achieve through the rabri units. “Today, 18 women are a part of Maa Kali Rabri Bhandar. Each of them earns Rs 20,000 in a month approximately. They are happy to be doing something of their own.”

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For a sweet that is loved by India and produced in numerous places across the country, there is always the fear of upcoming competition. But, Avijit points out, “When it comes to our rabri and the one from Banaras, people like our malai texture better. The malai layer in the rabri prepared here is very thick; whereas, the one in Banaras is of curd consistency.”

But even so, with numerous rabri bhandars in the village, each must always be on top of their game. One of them is ‘Manasa Rabri Bhandar’ run by Mithu Balti, daughter-in-law of Manasa Charan Balti who was Pannalal’s close associate.

The 43-year-old works hard to produce 25 kg of rabri daily to meet the burgeoning demands of customers. In an interview with the Village Square, she shared, “My husband travels to sweetshops in Kolkata to deliver rabri. My father-in-law Manasa Charan Balti founded the business about four decades ago. I’ve been making rabri for the past 12 years.”

A similar story is of Soma Balti, owner of ‘Maa Shashti Rabri Bhandar’. As Balti recounted to The Times of India, “It’s tough work, stooping over the woks in front of the wood ovens for the better part of the day.”

She added that at no point in time are her hands allowed to rest. “We are either fanning the milk, stirring it or pulling out the layers that form on top. Every seven kilogram (nearly seven litres) of milk yields two kilograms of rabri. We only add 500 grams of sugar to the seven kilograms of milk. Otherwise, a sour taste develops during the final stages of preparation,” she informs.

But Avijit is not daunted by the presence of so many units. “Maa Kali Rabri Bhandar sells 600 kilograms of rabri a day across Kolkata. We just focus on our legacy and the one Pannalal left behind.”

Edited by Padmashree Pande.

This iconic brand, existing for over a century, has maintained its legacy and kept its customers hooked to its unique kulfis — from kesar pista, matka kulfi and vegan kulfi to kulfis stuffed in fruits like mango, orange, apple, and pomegranate.

It’s not just the Delhites, but tourists from all over the world visit this eatery year-round to hog on the frozen dairy dessert. The eatery was founded by a Haryana farmer, Kuremal Mohanlal, about 117 years ago. We sat down with his great-grandson, Vishal Sharma, to learn about the brand’s history.

A Haryana farmer’s journey from farm to fame

The story dates back to 1906 when at the age of 11, Kirorimal Mohanlal decided to venture beyond farming. Inspired by his uncle, who sold kulfis locally, he came up with the idea of selling kulfis to the urban residents of Delhi. After helping his elder brothers with harvesting rabi crops, Kirorimal would travel from his village in Jhajjar to Delhi during the summers to sell kulfis.

In a conversation with The Better India, Vishal says, “He would save money from farming and rent a room in Delhi for two months. During this time, he spent his days making kulfis and later sold them in the streets.”

“Back then, he did not have the option of refrigeration, so he would instead fill baraf (ice slabs) and namak (salt) in a matka (an earthen pot) that would reduce temperatures to minus degrees. He would then set kulfi contents in a mitti ka koonja (clay earthenware), store these in a huge clay pot, and then carry it on his head to the old Delhi streets,” he adds.

Vishal adds that his great-grandfather would serve kulfis on a leaf and sell it for four annas each. In a day, he managed to sell about 100 kulfis.

This set out to be the foundation of Kuremal Mohanlal Kulfi. “Back then, his friends would jokingly call him Kuremal instead of Kirorimal. But today, this name has become a popular brand in Delhi,” the 29-year-old says with pride.

The seasonal work of making kulfis continued for three decades until Kirorimal was able to open his first outlet in Chawri Bazar in 1940 along with his son Mohanlal. Soon after, the father-son duo started getting orders for weddings and catering events.

Vishal says that it was his grandfather Mohanlal who took the business to new heights. “In our childhood, I remember he used to tell us how he was invited to the Rashtrapati Bhavan to serve our kulfis to the president. He would proudly carry earthen pots on his tonga in front of many police officers,” he says.

By 1950, Mohanlal also expanded the varieties of kulfis from two varieties of kesar pista and rabri to more than 20 varieties — including kewda, mango, orange, paan, pomegranate, jamun, gulkand, tamarind, khajur, and khurmani.

“Before introducing the new varieties to the public, my dadaji would introduce them at catering events, taking advantage of the mass gathering where he could easily get reviews. Thereafter, he would introduce them at the shop,” he adds.

Later on, his father Sunil Sharma, and uncles Anil Sharma, Manish Sharma, and Sanjay Sharma joined the business and expanded the work of hosting catering events. In 2018, Vishal, a lawyer by profession, quit his job to join the family business.

“I used to think that instead of working at a job, I should focus on growing my family business. Even a tiny improvement, like a 0.001 percent boost, could help our business grow over time. My family was initially against the idea because a job gave me the luxury of dedicated work hours, while a business requires constant attention. However, I eventually convinced my family and left my job after working for two years,” says Vishal, who is currently working as the managing director at Kuremal Mohanlal.

Celebrating 55 flavours of tradition

Since he joined the business, Vishal has managed to open six outlets across the national capital. “When I joined, I studied the reviews of our customers. I understood that it was difficult for customers to access our eatery often as it is located in narrow lanes of Old Delhi. People could not park cars there and would either have to walk or take a rickshaw to reach us. This also makes it difficult for families to visit us at night after other shops shut. So, I worked on opening outlets that were easily accessible,” he shares.

Priced between Rs 80 and Rs 250, today, at least 1,000 customers relish Kuremal’s kulfi every day. Commenting on their note-worthy customers, Vishal says, “We are invited to serve kulfis to guests in parties hosted by the likes of Ambanis, Amitabh Bachchan, and Rahul Gandhi. Even today, our kulfis are appreciated at the Rashtrapati Bhavan.”

Vishal says what the customers love the most is the stuffed fruit kulfis. His father introduced stuffed kulfis to their eatery in 1980.

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Talking about how these delights are made, he says, “We stuff kulfi content like rabri in fruits. For example, we carefully remove the guthli (seed) from the fruits. And then along with the pulp of fruits, we stuff kesar pista kulfi inside the peel. We then seal that fruit using wheat dough and store it inside a matka for three to four hours. The kulfis are sliced and then served to customers.”

“People love our stuffed kulfis. While local people order these for guests, we get many domestic and international tourists who enjoy them. These are very unique and one-of-a-kind,” he adds.

Sharad Gupta, a regular customer at the Kuremal’s, tells The Better India, “I visit the place once every two weeks, and when my friends from the US visit, we always take them to this eatery. It’s our must-go place for kulfi. Once, seven of our friends went there and exhausted all of their tamarind-flavoured kulfis. Even my children love it here. We can’t find a better taste in any other ice cream brands.”

Today, the iconic brand has 55 flavours and manufactures about 6,000 kulfis in a day. For Vishal, it is extremely satisfying to keep the legacy alive. “I am glad I quit my desk job and joined my family business that involves a lot of travel. Now, I do work for myself, not for another company,” he remarks.

Edited by Pranita Bhat. All photos: Vishal Sharma.

Served in earthen clay pots, the process to make rabri requires time and patience, but the end results are worth the effort!

About 166 years back, the Indian dessert gave a wrestler family in Jaipur fame and fondness, not only from its citizens but also from Jaipur’s royal family and celebrities like Lata Mangeshkar, Dara Singh, and Dharmendra.

In 1857, Parmanand Jain, a wrestler, established an eatery called ‘Mahaveer Rabri Bhandar’ to offer this sweet delight. Today, the local eatery serves at least 1,500 foodies per day from across the country and the world.

We sat down with the wrestler’s great-great grandson, Deepak Chabra, who currently runs the outlet to understand the history associated with their most loved recipe and how Jain “accidentally” made rabri.

From akhara to the royal kitchen

Before starting the shop, Parmanand Jain worked as a khansama (cook) in the royal kitchen. Deepak tells The Better India, “He would be called to make sweets on special occasions. He was such a perfect cook that he earned the title of Bhakt (a kind of honorific at that time), which was no less than any award. Alongside this work, he used to sell milk, curd, misri (rock sugar), and mawa (dried whole milk). At that time, these sweets were the trend and were largely in demand.”

He continues to inform that once when Parmanand Jain was slow-boiling the milk, he accidentally reduced it to make rabri. When he invited his wrestler friends to taste the sweet, they were in awe. Thereafter, Parmanand Jain started making rabri regularly and soon after, it became a must-have in royal feasts and special occasions.

This is how Mahaveer Rabri Bhandar came to be in 1857.

Deepak elaborates that Jain continued to run the shop for 60 years before his sons took over. “He had three sons: Dasulal Jain, Kapurchand Jain, and Mohanlal Jain. All three brothers were into pehalwani (wrestling) but only Kapurchandji could achieve great fame. He was the head of all 54 akharas (wrestling grounds) in Jaipur and earned the title of Ustaad (Master). He dedicated his entire life to wrestling and ran the business as well. It is because of him that we earned so much fame worldwide,” he adds.

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Later on, when the akharas were no longer in vogue, the family converted their approximately 4,000 sq ft wrestling ground into the manufacturing unit for Mahaveer Rabri Bhandar. 

Nearly three decades back, Deepak’s father, Shambhu Kumar, also introduced authentic Rajasthani food items like bejar ki roti (traditional Rajasthani multigrain bread), aloo pyaaz paneer ki sabji (curry made from potatoes, onions and cottage cheese), mirchi ke tipore (green chilli pickle), and garlic chutney.

“This was the first time ever that an eatery made and sold cooked curries in kilos! Usually, curries are served in portions in restaurants,” says the 41-year-old. After Deepak joined the family business in 1998, he opened three new outlets in the Pink City.

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A feast for the taste buds

At the Mahaveer Rabri Bhandar, at least 1,000 litres of milk is sourced every morning from dairy farmers of the nearby Chomu village. First, the milk is boiled and then stored without refrigeration to be used to cook rabri throughout the day.

Deepak says that the family has kept the taste and quality consistent. Explaining how the rabri is made at the eatery, he says, “We follow the simple method. First, milk is boiled on a slow flame in the underground coal furnace. When milk heats up, layers of cream appear on top which is pushed to the side of the pot in a thick chunk. The milk is boiled till it reduces to one-third of its volume in a thick consistency. It is then sweetened with sugar and garnished with cardamom powder and dry fruits.”

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What’s unique is that the family has kept the design of the utensil the same – it makes rabri in a large parcha (a deep cylindrical vessel) unlike others who use a kadhai (a broad round container) to make the sweet dish. “The containers ensure that the heat is evenly spread to cook the contents. It makes all the difference,” he adds.

Other than this, Deepak says, it is because of the quality that the brand earned its name. “We gave quality to our customers, who in return gave us fame. My elders tell me that we have served our food to renowned celebrities like Lata Mangeshkar, Dara Singh, and the former chief minister of Rajasthan, Bhairaon Singh Shekhawat. If they came to Jaipur, they would not return without having rabri at our shop,” he says proudly.

On average, the iconic eatery makes up to 150 kg of rabri every day. Sold for two anas (Back then, anas were a form of currency and 16 anas makes 1 Re) earlier, today, the sweet is sold for Rs 500 per kg. 

The market rate of the sweet otherwise is Rs 360-400 per kg. Other than rabri, the family introduced several traditional Rajasthani sweets like moong thal, gulab chakri, kalakand, and maal puvey.

One of their regular diners, Kartik Bhargava tells The Better India, “I remember my uncle took me there for the first time a few years back. Since then, he and I visit the eatery whenever we have time. It became our bonding spot. There are a lot of eateries in Jaipur that provide the same food but no one can beat the authentic taste that Mahaveer Rabri Bhandar offers. They must have some secret ingredient that sets them apart from all other copies.”

There are numerous outlets in Jaipur with names that sound similar to Mahaveer Rabri Bhandar but Deepak says that their quality is their USP that attracts diverse customers.

“It is an honour to take the family legacy forward. I am glad that my son, who is in class 12, wishes to pursue hotel management and aims to join the business. It gives me immense satisfaction that this legacy will continue even after me,” he adds.

Edited by Padmashree Pande.

First tabled in 1996, it was one of the longest pending legislations in Parliament. It took eight different governments, 27 years, and a fight by women across the country to make this Bill a reality. Presently, there are 102 women parliamentarians out of a total of 766, which accounts for only 13 percent. This Bill is much needed, as India ranks 141 in women representation in parliament, as per an Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU) report.

This historic bill is here today thanks to the efforts of many women politicians and activists, one of whom is Pramila Dandavate, an MP from Mumbai, who had first introduced this Bill as a private member’s Bill in the early 1980s, in the seventh Lok Sabha.

During the VP Singh government in 1989, she was the one who first demanded 33 percent reservation for women in the Parliament and Vidhan Sabha. This trailblazer started writing charters for women’s rights in the 1970s.

The women behind the victory

In 1987, former prime minister Rajiv Gandhi constituted a committee for the National Perspective Plan for Women. This committee was led by union minister Margaret Alva and proposed reservations in rural and local body elections.

The bill was drafted by this committee of women parliamentarians — including Alva, Geeta Mukherjee, Susheela Gopalan and Pramila Dandavate. Dr Ranjana Kumari, who has also been fighting for the passage of the Bill for more than two decades, told Feminism in India, a website. 

“They [these women] went around the country [and] sought opinions about the Bill and drafted it. I was one of the young scholars who helped in the process. It was their wisdom, and I put it in words. We eventually formed the ‘Seven Sisters’, where seven major national organisations of women came together and started campaigning for it,” she added.

But the harbinger for change in women’s reservation were the local administrative bodies. In 1992 and 1993, two bills were passed, which reserved 33 percent of seats and chairperson posts for women in rural and local body elections during PV Narasimha Rao’s tenure as prime minister.

The Indian Express report states that this has paved the way for the election of around one million women at village, block and district levels.

The passage of these bills led to a push by activists like Pramila to expand the scope of the reservation to the lower house of parliament and state assemblies. 

“Reservation at the panchayat level has been a huge success. During the 1987 elections in Karnataka, 18,000 women were elected to the various local government bodies after the JD-led government introduced 25 percent reservation for women in the panchayats. Women proved to be better representatives than men. I think that the quality of the Parliament will definitely improve as more women come in. In the past, women’s performance has been far better and they tend to be less corrupt,” Pramila said in an interview with India Together. 

On 12 September 1996, the 81st Constitutional Amendment Bill was tabled in the Lok Sabha, and sought to introduce 33 percent reservation for women. Multiple reports state that it was Pramila Dandavate who tabled this bill. The Bill was referred to a joint committee which submitted a recommendation in December 1996. However, it lapsed after the dissolution of the H D Deve Gowda government.

It was then tabled in 1997 under the I K Gujral government, but lapsed again, and was introduced in 1998, 1999, 2002, and 2003 during the NDA government, but lapsed each time. There was some progress in 2008 during the Manmohan Singh-led UPA government. The Bill was introduced in the Rajya Sabha. It was passed in the Upper House in 2010. It finally saw the light of day on 19 September 2023, as the Lok Sabha passed it under the Narendra Modi government.

‘Women are creators’

Most women activists and leaders have said over the years that it was patriarchal thinking that was the biggest opposition to this Bill. In fact, several women leaders across the political spectrum realised the need for reservation only after coming into positions of power. 

“Until 1975-76, I was in favour of reservation for women only up to the local and zilla parishad levels. When the Janata Dal came to power, women were given very few tickets even though they had participated in the struggle for democracy under Jaiprakash Narayan. Since then, I have become a consistent supporter of reservation for women, including in the Parliament. I feel that our party wants women to be decorative pieces, like achar (pickle) with food or a flower pot. They do not want to share power in the real sense of the word,” Pramila told India Together.

BJP leader Uma Bharti said to the same publication, “In principle, I am against reservation because I believe that women should come forward on the basis of their own merit and hard work. But my 12 years of experience in politics have led me to believe that this does not happen. Women rarely manage to come forward and when they try to do so, their own colleagues brand them as loose-characters. Therefore, I believe that women will come into politics only if a reservation policy is implemented.”

Pramila joined hands with women across political parties to make this Bill a reality. She worked with Geeta Mukherjee, Mamata Banerjee, Meira Kumar, Sumitra Mahajan, Sushma Swaraj, Uma Bharti, and Hannan Mollah, among others.

They travelled across the country to assess the ground realities. This committee, led by Mukherjee, made seven recommendations, which included reservation for a period of 15 years, and sub-reservation of Anglo-Indians. Five of these recommendations have been made a reality today. 

Pramila also worked tirelessly to amend the Anti-dowry and Sati Prevention Acts, highlighting her dedication to women’s rights. She campaigned against dowry killings and the practice of Sati (where a widow would end her life by jumping into her husband’s pyre) and was instrumental in bringing about the Amendment to the Dowry Prohibition Act and the Sati Prohibition Act.

Her political activism led to her 18-month imprisonment during the Emergency. She established the Mahila Dakshata Samiti and co-authored “Widows, Abandoned and Destitute Women in India” with Jamila Verghese and Dr Kumari.

However, she died on 31 December 2001, much before she could realise the fruits of her efforts. 

This legislation will bear fruit only in 2029, thanks to a delimitation clause in the bill. The reservation is proposed to be implemented after a new census is published and the delimitation exercise is completed.  

This means that Pramila’s dream of seeing a third of the Lok Sabha filled with women will have to wait six more years. But, the 46.1 crore female voters will have something to look forward to in the 2029 elections.

“Unnecessary conflicts that are a drain on our resources will stop. We are creators, not destroyers,” says Pramila.

Edited by Padmashree Pande

Sources

‘Pramila Dandavate — The First Woman to Table Women’s Reservation Bill in 1996’ by Aliza Noor for The Quint, Published on 23 September, 2023

‘It Is A Matter Of Right And Not A Matter Of Favour: In Conversation With Dr. Ranjana Kumari On The Women’s Reservation Bill‘ by Isha Sengupta for Feminism in India, Published on 04 April, 2019

Inter-Parliamentary Union report

‘Tracing the political history of the Women’s Reservation Bill’ Published on 19 September 2023, Courtesy The News Minute

‘Real commitment to women’s representation will be seen in 2024 Lok Sabha polls’ by Flavia Agnes for The Indian Express, Published on 25 September, 2023 

India Together

In fact what sets him apart — aside from his almost divine abilities to prepare sweets — are the stories he tells his customers. While piling mithai pieces into vibrant coloured boxes, he talks of how the Indian mithai scene has changed over the years. “We are finally getting recognised,” he adds.

This feeling is echoed by mithaiwalas across India, especially in the regions where these sweets are born. The GI tag has made this possible. This intellectual property mark when granted to a sweet, goes a long way in boosting its popularity and subsequent sales.

Let’s take a look at some Indian sweets that have made it to the coveted GI tag list over the years.

1. Silao Khaja

In December 2018, the Nalanda district of Bihar celebrated as their beloved silao khaja was awarded the GI tag. The golden crunchy piece of heaven glistens with sugar syrup, appearing a lot like the Turkish baklava (a layered pastry). Wheat and sugar come together to create this gastronomic delight that dates back to 320 BCE.

According to The Times of India report, the applicant society was Silao Khaja Audyogik Swavalambi Sahakari Samiti Ltd.

2. Mihidana 

Often described as the cousin of the boondi, the mihidana found a place in the GI list of sweets in 2017. The sweet was born in the Bardhawan region of West Bengal, a bustling capital during British rule. History credits the Nag family of sweetmakers who resided in the Bardhawan with creating this delight.

In 2021, reports of batches of the sweet being exported from Bardhawan to the Kingdom of Bahrain did the rounds, lending to the popularity of the mithai.

3. Dharwad Peda

Barfis and pedhas have often been touted as inventions by people in North India. And few know that the Dharwad peda originally made by the Thakur family in Karnataka, also has a North Indian connection!

The family moved cities and homes during the 19th century when the plague struck Uttar Pradesh. Ram Ratan Singh Thakur would milk the Dharwadi buffaloes to prepare the sweet, which is still sold by the family across Karnataka. It earned its GI tag in 2007.

4. Bebinca

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The year 2023 saw two popular Goan loves — the mancurad mango and bebinca — get the GI tag, a feat that was celebrated across the bakeries of the town. There is an art to making bebinca, noted one of the members of the All Goa Bakers and Confectioners Association.

They added that in recent years the frequency of non-Goans attempting to prepare the sweet was increasing. Now, however, the GI tag would enable Goans to monetise their hard work, while also enabling them to quote a higher price while exporting the layered sweet.

5. Srivilliputtur Palkova

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The origin stories of this sweet date back to 1921 when Rajputs set up stalls near temples in Tamil Nadu and started making the sweet as prasadam to be served at the temple. The century-old love affair that the city has had with this sweet was finally awarded the GI tag in 2019.

The full cream milk that goes into its preparation is the secret behind its melt-in-your-mouth texture.

6. Goan Khaje

Another Goan fascination, the Goan khaje with its crisp exterior and sweet centre has found a fan following around the world and is commonly known as kadyo bodyo in the local dialect. The ginger-infused jaggery delight got its GI tag in 2020.

As the official notification read, “Khaje is Goa’s traditional festive sweet treat at temple zatras and church feasts. In Goa, there are numerous festivals celebrated by temples and chapels in almost every village, all year round. After the religious ceremony, devotees go through the fair perusing the stalls set up in the vicinity. One of the most common and popular snacks stacked up like pyramids is the Goan khaje.”

7. Odisha Rasagola

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It starkly differs from its counterpart, the Bengali rasagola, in its chewiness quotient. While the Bengali rosogola is chewy, the one from Odisha isn’t. The sweet — which received its GI tag in 2019 — is prepared by the caramelisation of sugar.

The people of Odisha claim that the sweet dates back to the 12th century. Legend says that Lord Jagannath would offer the sweet to his disgruntled consort Goddess Laxmi to make up for his absence after his nine-day-long Rath Yatra.

8. Joynagar Moa

A perfect marriage of date palm jaggery and kanakchur khoi (an aromatic puffed rice cultivated in West Bengal) results in this delicacy sold only during the winter months. This owes to the fact that nolen gur — famous for its caramel texture and a vital ingredient in the recipe — is only available in the last few months of the year as the temperatures drop.

Ashok Kumar Kayal who runs the Joynagar Moa Nirmankari Society — which was also responsible for the GI tag in 2015 — empowers over 400 joynagar moa makers.

9. Kovilpatti Kadalai Mittai

In 2020, this groundnut sweet achieved its GI tag status for its unique preparation methods in the Tuticorin district of Tamil Nadu. The mithai is prepared using the ‘veragu aduppu’ (firewood) technique through which groundnuts — native to the black-soiled areas of Kovilpatti — are roasted.

What started with one peanut candy manufacturer in the 1940s is now a community of over 150 manufacturers.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

To understand this, we need to go back about 131 years. During a time when India was actively resisting British colonial rule and striving for independence, Krishnajipant Khasgiwale used the festival to demonstrate India’s unity.

In 1892, Pune resident Krishnajipant visited the Maratha-ruled Gwalior. There, he witnessed the traditional public celebration and brought it to the attention of his friends — Shrimant Bhausaheb Rangari and Balasaheb Natu — back home in Pune.

Shrimant Bhausaheb Rangari, also a famous royal physician and a freedom fighter, saw potential in this festival to unite countrymen. So he installed the first saarvajanik or public Ganesha idol in his home or wada located in an area called Shalukar Bol.

The idol was unique as it depicted the deity killing a demon. Made of wood and bran, the imagery was far from the usual calm and composed demeanour of Lord Ganesh — this was symbolic of India as a nation fighting for its freedom against the colonialists.

The move gained more attention when freedom fighter Lokmanya Tilak praised his efforts in an article in the iconic newspaper Kesari. Over a century later, the original idol made of paper pulp is still worshipped at Bhausaheb Rangari’s wada.

Did you find the story interesting? Watch this short video to find out more: 

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

And history will agree!

The win will go down as yet another glorious chapter in India’s book of sports. But even as we bask in this victory, we recall numerous legends who took Indian sports to the echelons of success.

1. Batting their way to success

When Mahendra Kumar Sharma — a pioneer of women’s cricket in India — passed away in November last year, his loss was collectively mourned by the sports fraternity. His zeal was among the many qualities that were saluted.

The story goes that in the 1970s, Sharma who frequently organised softball tournaments for school and college-going girls, was keeping a close eye on women’s cricket unfolding in England and Australia. Keen for Indian women to access these opportunities, he hatched a plan.

One morning the people of Lucknow woke up to clarion calls of “Kanyaon ki cricket hogi, zaroor aaiye” (Girls will be playing cricket, do come). The amplified voice belonged to none other than Sharma, who grouped interested women into the first association for women’s cricket in India. It was called the Women’s Cricket Association of India (WCAI) and was officially registered under the Societies Act of Lucknow in 1973.

Another all-rounder in cricket, Kapil Dev was known for his leadership both on and off-field. A milestone feat in Dev’s career was captaining the Indian team that won the 1983 Cricket World Cup. On the eve of the match, as he spoke to the team encouragingly saying, “We can beat the mighty West Indies,” they highly doubted it.

But they were proved wrong, as hours later, Dev lifted the trophy becoming the first Indian skipper to do so. Recalling his pep talk in an interview with The Times of India, he said, “As a captain, you have to make sure that if you rub those kinds of positive words into the team, it will work.”

2. Sporting legends who proved their mettle

V P Sathyan started his career with the Kerala State Team and went on to great heights. His fans remember the footballer’s magnificent 35-yard footer in the 1986 Merdeka tournament against South Korea, which took India into the semi-finals. But many would argue that his 1992 game, which helped end Kerala’s 17-year Santosh Trophy title drought, was equally fascinating. Sathyan was also part of the India squad that cantered to a gold-medal finish at the 1995 SAF Games in Chennai.

Jo Paul Ancheri who played under Sathyan’s captaincy shared his dynamic. The former was widely regarded for his ability to play in multiple positions — defensive midfielder, midfielder, and striker. His stellar performances during the 1993–1994 season established him as one of the best players in the country. Shortly after the season, he got a call to play for the Indian National Team.

IM Vijayan’s rise from poverty to stardom is a story for the books. As a child, he sold eatables in the Thrissur Corporation stadium, ironically, the same place that shaped his passion for the game and his career thereafter.

Vijayan’s love for football was spotted by Mr M K Joseph, the former DGP of Kerala, who took to the boy and adopted him into the Kerala Police — where the former started his club career in 1989. The rest is history.

The list of great personalities in football would be incomplete without the name of S A Rahim. This ‘Architect of Modern Football’ led the team to gold medals at the 1951 and 1962 Asian Games, along with moulding many players.

The teacher-turned-football coach is also credited with starting football groups across Andhra Pradesh, some of which are still functional today.

While these men made their mark on the field, Arjuna Award (1983) and Padma Shri (1985) awardee PT Usha made it on the track. She was only 12 years of age when she began training in the Women’s Sports Department, set up by the Kerala State Government in Kannur, and was often hailed as ‘Payyoli Express’ for her speed. Through her two-decade-long career, she won a total of 33 international medals and was crowned ‘Sportsperson of the Century’ by the  International Olympic Committee (IOA).

3. Champions of the Ring

The wrestling maestro Dara Singh and boxing legend Muhammad Ali shared a friendly dynamic. While in the ring, both were fearless, swift and intuitive. Dara Singh’s career was dotted with 500 professional fights, none of which he lost. The Indian pehalwan won hearts in 1968 with his win at the World Wrestling Championship where he defeated world champion Lou Thesz.

Muhammad Ali shared the same glorious journey.

“An agile mind, a buoyant personality, a brash self-confidence and an evolving set of personal convictions fostered a magnetism that the ring alone could not contain.” These words were used by The New York Times to describe the three-time world heavyweight boxing champion.

Another wrestler Hamida Banu had slightly different tactics from her male counterparts. “Beat me in a bout and I’ll marry you,” she would challenge her male contemporaries before a match. 

Whether it was her face-off with Feroze Khan from Lahore in 1937, where she pinned him down in a short time, or with Baba Pahelwan in 1954 at Baroda, where she made him swear he would retire if she beat him — her fights made history.

The five-foot-three-inch stalwart went on to win more than 320 matches across her career.

4. Acing it all the way

‘Jack of all trades and master of none’ does not hold true for Leela Row, the first Indian woman to win a tennis match at Wimbledon. Her prowess in tennis was only an addition to her many titles of writer, dancer and mountaineer. As she often said, she got it from her mother.

Leela was born to a Sanskrit scholar and tennis player Pandita Kshama Row, who followed both the arts and sports with equal passion. While her win at the Bombay Presidency Hard Court Championships in 1927 was applauded, her Sanskrit poetry won acclaim from the legends of the time.

Leela too followed in her footsteps. On days she wasn’t training in classical Indian dance or adapting her mother’s Sanskrit poetry, she was practising her serves.

In 1931, she won her first title at the All-India Championship, and in 1934, she became the first Indian woman to win a game at the grounds of Wimbledon with a 4-6, 10-8, 6-2 victory over Britain.

Another tennis maestro Rita Davar also had a series of firsts to her name. She made history in 1952 as she became the first Indian to make it to the finals of a Grand Slam in the singles category.

Davar also won the Indian Nationals and the All India Hard Court Championships in 1953 and 1954.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

Tanya grew up witnessing a confluence of cultures — Jews, Arabs, Muslims, and Konkani Brahmins. Through the years, their stories become windows through which she viewed the culinary landscape of the world.

Their history intrigued her, as did their food. And in a quest to dive deeper into these hidden treasures, she wrote ‘Fort Cochin’ in 2009, followed ten years later by ‘Eating with History’, which she dedicated to her grandmother.  

“All the recipes in this book [Eating with History] have been soul food to someone at some point in time,” she points out. For Tanya, her own fondest memories involve her ammama (grandmother). 

In the book, she recalls how the latter’s starch white chatta and mundu (traditional attire worn by catholic women in Kerala) yellowed through the day as masalas stained it. Long hours of working in the kushinchya (kitchen) to serve a large joint family of 30 were to blame. 

But all was forgotten as the guests relished the homemade rose cookies and devoured the meen pollichathu (fish cooked in banana leaves) dish. These frequent visitors were not always relatives, but a host of businessmen, political people, nationalists, and missionaries, all part of the Independence movement. 

Food, she discovered, was always the soul of the home. And still is. 

But when her ammama passed away at the ripe old age of 104, to Tanya it felt almost like a storehouse of culinary delights went away with her. It made her think of all the women who, like her grandmother, had brewed magic through their recipes. These would be lost in time if not preserved. 

Fuelled by this thought, Tanya went on “a life-changing journey” across Kerala to unearth the recipes of traditional dishes as told by the women of the country. “Writing this book was almost like reliving her grandmother’s mind in many ways,” she shares. 

Today, Eating with History is an ode to every woman who gives food a life of its own in the kitchens across India. 

Here are a few of the rare dishes that Tanya chanced upon during her research process. You can find the recipes for these in her book, here. 

1. Peechinga Chamandi 

No dish in a Kerala household is complete without dousing it in spices. The spice influence borrows from an interesting story, shares Tanya. When Lord Parasuram, one of the ten avatars of Lord Vishnu, threw his axe into the Arabian Sea, it landed on a piece of land that bore great wealth and held spices. This is where the spice trade began. 

Take for instance the ridge gourd chutney, a tangy preparation known for its spice quotient. The preparation is quick and made for last-minute guests, a common feature in most homes. 

2. Pesaha Appam 

This is unleavened bread prepared without using yeast and commonly eaten on Maundy Thursday (Pesaha Vyazhacha). Tanya’s book tells of how it is made with great solemnity by the women of the household. 

“The bread is cooked by placing a cross made from the palm leaf received on Palm Sunday. In the evening, the male head of the family breaks the bread after prayers and shares it with his family to commemorate the Last Supper. The bread is eaten with a jaggery sauce,” the book notes. 

3. Ariputtu 

In the 15th century when the Portuguese entered Kerala, they brought with them spices, potatoes, chillies, etc. One of the foods they “invented”, shares Tanya in her book, was the puttu (a steamed rice cake). 

The book talks of how the puttu was originally made in bamboo steamers or coconut shells but has now shifted to more user-friendly metal puttu-makers. In contrast to the previously used oralus (granite tools), mill-ground rice is now used. 

4. Chemeen Pada 

The shrimp pickle, a staple in Tanya’s household, is an ode to the Portuguese tradition of pickling meats in vinegar. In fact, as Tanya writes, vinegar is one of the most important foods brought to Kerala during the colonisation in the 15th century. 

“The Portuguese used vinegar extensively in their food; especially to preserve salted meats with paprika and garlic which were stored in large barrels during their voyages in ships to lands afar. This proved to be a quick savouring dish when fried in oil, close to the meat pickle famously relished in Kerala today.”

5. Kazhal Kothiyathu 

The Latin Catholic minced liver fry recipe prepared by Tanya’s grandmother differs from other community recipes in terms of preparation. “This is not unusual,” shares Tanya, who noticed how cooking styles and recipes differed across catholic communities even within Kerala itself. 

“When choppers were not available, quick and constant chopping of the meat on a large wooden board (with two knives on either hand) was how the liver was minced to a fine form. A task that required not only strength but also precision,” notes the book. 

6. Dutch bread 

The bread known as ‘bluder’, ‘brudel’, ‘blueda’, ‘bloeder’ and ‘blueda’ is a remnant of the Dutch rule in the 17th century. It amassed immense popularity as a culinary gem and is still enjoyed centuries after the Dutch rule ended in Kochi. 

Prepared with maida, sugar, eggs, ghee and yeast, the bread also features raisins in rare cases. “It is said that the raisins do not sink to the bottom in a breudher made well,” Tanya writes. 

7. Neiappam 

The Jewish community entered Kerala in the 15th and 16th centuries from Spain and Portugal, bringing their food along with them. In the book, Tanya writes that it was due to the Portuguese tyranny that they fled to Kochi and thrived in Jew Town in Mattancherry. While today, only vestiges of the Malabari synagogues are present in Kerala, the culinary legacy they left behind is still prevalent. For instance, the ispethi (red beef stew) and neiappam. 

“A breakfast or tea time snack, which the Jews especially prepare during Hannukah as a popular treat during the festival, neiappam is popular across Kerala and also called unniyappam,” the book mentions. 

Edited by Padmashree Pande

In this piece, we explore the works and lives of women in India who enabled so many others to follow in their footsteps.

1. The wind beneath India’s wings

It is impossible to speak of India’s successes in the aviation field without recalling the heroic deeds of flight purser Neerja Bhanot. She died on 5 September, 1986, at the age of 22 while attempting to save passengers on the hijacked Pan Am Flight 73.

Four terrorists — Wadoud Muhammad Hafiz al-Turki, Jamal Saeed Abdul Rahim, Muhammad Abdullah Khalil Hussain arRahayyal, and Muhammad Ahmed al-Munawar were behind the act. Bhanot displayed remarkable courage as she saved the lives of more than 350 passengers on board. For her gallantry, she was posthumously awarded the Ashoka Chakra in 1987.

Another such hero in India’s aviation domain was Captain Durba Banerjee. As India’s first woman pilot, it suffices to say she took India to the skies through her work. When she joined Indian Airlines in 1956, it set the stage for women across India to shatter glass ceilings and step into leadership roles.

She turned a deaf ear to stereotypes that clouded her path as she persisted in her endeavours. Throughout her career, she accumulated an impressive flight time of over 9,000 hours.

While Neerja and Captain Banerjee made their mark in the skies, Mumbai-born Persis Khambatta made it in front of the camera. Her career was tinged with successes, the most popular one being her role of Lieutenant Ilia in Star Trek: The Motion Picture in 1979.

The daring Khambatta went bald for it. Through her work, she is credited with paving the way for Indian actors in Hollywood. 

2. Heroines of war

During the Bangladesh Liberation War (1947–1971), a group of freedom fighters organised themselves into a group called the ‘Mukti Bahini’. They set the stage for young women to be trained in combat and various operations. Two of its members Captain Sitara Begum and Taramon Bibi were conferred with the ‘Bir Protik’ — the fourth highest gallantry award in Bangladesh — for their outstanding bravery.

Taramon Bibi worked as a cook for the Mukti Bahini and never missed a chance to use this position of hers to roam through the area and keep track of happenings. She did this in the guise of a woman with a mental disability. She would observe the Pakistani Army’s movements and then report these to the Mukti Bahini, who would then act on these reports.

Captain Sitara Begum, meanwhile, served as a doctor with the force. The Kolkata native oversaw operations at a Bangladesh Hospital where casualties of war and emergent cases needed attention.

Years before these two fearless women could play their role, a young girl Rajkumari Gupta displayed the same zeal during India’s freedom struggle. She and her husband Madan Mohan Gupta joined the Independence movement where they would deliver secret messages to leaders.

Numerous times, Gupta put her life on the line while delivering guns to the revolutionaries. She once famously said, “Hum upar se Gandhivaadi the, neeche se krantivaadi the” (We were Gandhians from above; underneath we were revolutionaries).

3. Breaking stereotypes through literature

Women and their pragmatic approaches to dealing with crisis situations have gone down in history. For instance, Dr Gangubai Hangal.

At a time when it was taboo for women to take up classical music, she not only did it but excelled, going on to win the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award (1973), the Padma Bhushan (1971) and the Padma Vibhushan (2002).

She was the chosen one to sing the welcome song at the inauguration of the Indian National Congress session in Belagavi in 1924. The audience comprising Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Sarojini Naidu, and Maulana Abul Kalam Azad watched on admiringly. Hangal also performed at the Dover Lane Music Conference and the All Bengal Music Festival — two of India’s most prestigious classical music events, continuously for 15 years.

Another literary magic maker Subhadra Kumari Chauhan donned many hats. The Hindi poet was also a freedom fighter and her body of work includes nearly 100 poems and 50 short stories focused on caste discrimination and the dowry system. One of her well-known creations is the collection ‘Mukul’ released in 1930, which includes the famous ‘Jhansi Ki Rani’ poem.

It was after her marriage to Lakshman Singh Chauhan at the age of 15 that Subhadra’s political career took off. She refused to toe the line and abandoned the ghoonghat despite family objections.

In 1921, she and her husband joined the Non-Cooperation Movement and led the ‘Jhanda Satyagraha’ in Jabalpur, raising the Indian flag throughout the city.

Another of India’s women who ignited patriotic fervour through their writings was Kuntala Kumari Sabat, a devoted follower of Gandhi. Her literary accomplishments include ‘Na Tundi,’ ‘Kali Bohu,’ ‘Parasmani,’ ‘Bhranti,’ and ‘Raghu Arakhita.’

Literature was not the only area where she excelled. In 1921, she graduated from medical college and became Cuttack’s first female doctor. Throughout her career, she championed women’s empowerment by speaking against societal injustices and endorsing widow remarriage.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

Letters led to elephants being sent to Tokyo, setting up India’s first Indian Psychoanalytical Society and led to Anandibai Joshi becoming India’s first female doctor.

Here are 10 such letters that have left an indelible mark in India’s history:

1. The letter that helped Indians in Fiji end unpaid labour

Manilal Doctor, an envoy of Mahatma Gandhi, played a major role in securing legal rights and freedom for indentured labourers in Fiji in the early 1907. 

It started with a letter written by these Indians to Gandhi, which he published in the newspaper Indian Opinion. The letter, which highlighted the ill-treatment of the British, was read by Doctor.

He stayed in Fiji for four years and helped labourers, who were forced to work on cane and sugar plantations without getting paid, by fighting their cases in court, writing their letters and petitions.

He played a big role in ending the indenture system and also helped Indians get their political and economic rights.

2. 200 letters written by a couple in prison

During the Emergency in 1975, Madhu Dandavate, former union finance minister, and his wife Pramila, former member of Parliament, were jailed in Bengaluru and Yerawada respectively.

Separated after 23 years of marriage, the couple, products of the freedom struggle, exchanged nearly 200 letters over their 18 months of incarceration.

Their letters, which discussed music, poetry, books, philosophy and politics, were a testament of how their love translated into resistance against an authoritarian regime.

When Pramila seemed despondent, Madhu wrote, “As long as our spine is in place, who can possibly touch our life together?”

Their letters show us that their love was not selfish, they toiled for freedom and dignity for themselves, and the nation.

3. Sardar Patel’s letter to Nehru

Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel and Jawaharlal Nehru are a great example of how two leaders can work together for the betterment of the nation, despite their political differences.

A letter written by Patel in 1949, on Nehru’s 60th birthday, is a perfect example of their admiration for one another.

“Jawaharlal and I have been fellow-members of the Congress, soldiers in the struggle of freedom, devoted followers of the Great Master [Gandhi], and co-shares in the great and onerous burden of administration of this vast country,” he wrote.

“This familiarity, nearness, intimacy and brotherly affection make it difficult for me to sum him up for public appreciation, but, then, the idol of the nation, the leader of the people,… and the hero of the masses…, hardly needs any commendation from me.”

He also cleared the air that Nehru did not usurp the position of prime minister from him. “..It was in the fitness of things that in the twilight preceding the dawn of independence he should have been our leading light.”

4. A letter that created India’s first woman doctor

Anandibai Joshi was a trailblazer who fought societal prejudice and patriarchy to become the first woman from India to secure a degree in western medicine from the US. 

Married when she was nine, the loss of her 10-day-old infant son due to inadequate medical care made the then 14-year-old decide to take up medicine.

Her husband Gopalrao motivated her to study medicine and wrote a letter to Royal Wilder, an American missionary, seeking help for Anandi in 1800.  

While Wilder couldn’t help, he had their correspondence published in a periodical in Princeton University, which caught the eye of  Theodicia Carpenter, who supported Anandi’s educational journey. 

Anandi studied medicine in the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania. In her moving application letter, she wrote, 

“…my purpose is to render to my poor suffering country women the true medical aid they so sadly need and which they would rather die than accept at the hands of a male physician.”

5. Tolstoy’s letters that inspired Gandhi

Mahatma Gandhi was greatly inspired by Russian author Leo Tolstoy, who he called the “greatest apostle of non-violence that the present age had produced” and “a great teacher whom I have long looked upon as one of my guides”.

He is said to have taken the path of Ahimsa (non-violence) inspired by Tolstoy. The author’s ‘The Kingdom of God is Within You’ “overwhelmed me” said Gandhi.

The two had a prolonged correspondence in 1909, which started with a letter written by Toltsoy against British colonialism which was printed in the ‘Free Hindustan’ newspaper.

Moved by this letter, Gandhi sought permission to reproduce it in his ‘Indian Opinion’ paper with the title ‘A Letter to a Hindu’. This was the beginning of a year-long correspondence.

Tolstoy’s letters batted for non-violent resistance. He wrote to Gandhi, “Love is the only way to rescue humanity from all ills, and in it, you too have the only method of saving your people from enslavement… Love”

6. Letters for an elephant

During World War II, three elephants in Ueno Zoo, Japan’s oldest zoo were killed, due to fears of their escape during bomb raids.

Two of those elephants were brought from India, and were very popular with young children. Their deaths deeply affected these children and led them to write letters to then PM Nehru.

When an Indian exporter visited Tokyo in 1949, he was bombarded with requests from children to ask Nehru to send a replacement elephant. He handed over 815 letters to Nehru. 

One such letter read: “At Tokyo Zoo we can only see pigs and birds which give us no interest. It is a long cherished dream for Japanese children to see a large, charming elephant.” Another said, “The elephant still lives with us in our dreams.”

Within a few months, Nehru sent an elephant, Indira, to Tokyo, from the erstwhile princely state of Mysore. He also wrote a letter to the children. 

“You must look upon this elephant as a messenger of affection and goodwill from the children of India. The elephant is a noble animal. It is wise and patient, strong and yet, gentle. I hope all of us will also develop these qualities.”

7. The letter that led to toilets in Indian railways

It was only in 1909 that toilets were introduced in trains in India, more than 55 years after the first passenger train became operational.

It happened all thanks to a passenger, Okhil Chandra Sen. On 2 July 1909, he wrote a letter addressed to the Sahibganj Divisional office in West Bengal to set up toilets in trains. 

In his letter, he laments that he missed his train at the Ahmedpur railway station in his bid to answer “nature’s call”.

After this letter, railway authorities decided to introduce toilets in all lower-class carriages in trains travelling more than 50 miles (approx 80.5 km) at that time. 

8. Henry Ford’s fan letter to Gandhi

In July 1941, American automaker Henry Ford wrote a letter to Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, deeply praising him.

Ford was a pacifist and was unhappy with the global situation at that time, and wanted his country to be neutral, amidst pressure from the government for his company to start mass-producing airplanes to help defeat the Nazis

His letter read, “I want to take this opportunity of sending you a message…to tell you how deeply I admire your life and message. You are one of the greatest men the world has ever known.”

Gandhi received the letter in December 1941 and sent a charkha in response. Ford kept it as a good luck charm, as well as a symbol of the principles of simplicity and economic independence.

9. Freud’s letter praising India’s mental health pioneer

Dr Girindrasekhar Bose was India’s first psychoanalyst and first to earn a doctorate in psychology. He set up India’s first  psychiatric outpatient department (OPD) in Kolkata on 1 May 1933.

He corresponded with Dr Sigmund Freud, Austrian neurologist, from 1921- 1937. Bose first sought Freud’s opinion on his thesis, ‘The Concept of Repression’.

The founder of psychoanalysis responded positively, and praised him for ‘correctness of its principal views and the good sense prevailing in it’.

This led to the establishment of the Indian Psychoanalytical Society in 1922, which received affiliation from the International Psychoanalytical Association.

Freud praised Bose in a letter to a colleague, “The most interesting item of news in the psycho-world is the foundation of the local group in Calcutta, led by Dr G Bose, a Professor Extraordinary,” 

10. Letters that are a doorway to life before 1947

While a lot is written about the freedom struggle in India, we rarely see how life was before 1947.  The Citizens’ Archive of India is an effort to document that.  

The digital oral history archive wants to be a ready resource for anyone interested in learning about the past, with interviews with people who were born before Independence.

One such project is The Generation 1947 Project which showcases diaries, letters, photographs to portray how times have changed.

One such letter, written in 1937 is a beautiful expression of the excitement felt during an international voyage from Bombay to Japan.

Edited by Divya Sethu

But there are currently several public interest litigations (PIL) in the High Court that seek to preserve the heritage block.  For instance, one filed by social activist Lubna Sarwath calls the demolition unconstitutional which will “hurt the city’s identity”.

“The State cannot afford the luxury of forgetting that the destruction of heritage buildings will rob its people of the essence of their identity, and will deprive the city of its sense of uniqueness. While it is important to plan for the future, it is equally important to protect, to preserve and to promote the past,” Sarwath told The Indian Express.

Experts want to preserve the heritage building, and want the new hospital to either be built around it, or at another location. Let’s take a look at what makes this hospital so iconic. 

Hyderabad’s medical breakthroughs 

In the mid-19th century, medical education was picking up in Hyderabad with the advent of the Hyderabad Medical School. The land that houses the OGH campus today was earlier home to the Afzal Gunj Hospital, which was constructed in 1866 and served as a teaching hospital. 

It was at these two buildings that major medical breakthroughs were made. 

The discovery of malaria was made at the Hyderabad Medical School by Nobel laureate Sir Ronald Ross. On the other hand, Afzal Gunj Hospital contributed to a major breakthrough in anesthesia. The first international chloroform trials, backed by the sixth Nizam Mir Mahboob Ali Khan, took place in this hospital from 1888 to 1891, and were conducted by his personal physician Dr Edward Lawrie.

The Chloroform Commission conducted experiments to establish the effectiveness of chloroform as an anesthetic to treat patients. It was a major breakthrough that led to several lives being saved in the future. While the chemical was being used for surgical procedures, this trial helped in determining how it could be used safely. The Commission’s report would go on to be published in The Lancet.

Built in the aftermath of floods and a plague

As medicine flourished in Hyderabad, unprecedented rainfall resulted in catastrophic floods, ravaging the erstwhile princely state. During the reign of the sixth Nizam, one of the casualties of the Musi River flooding was the Afzal Gunj Hospital. More than 15,000 people lost their lives, but a large tamarind tree near the hospital acted as a savior for 150 people who climbed it. 

In 1911, Mir Osman Ali Khan, Hyderabad’s last Nizam took over. This is when the bubonic plague hit Hyderabad. This epidemic yet again took several lives, and brought to the fore the need for a major infrastructure revamp. 

Osman Ali Khan is said to have heralded a new modern infrastructure push that would be better equipped to deal with nature’s fury. In 1912, Hyderabad got its first urban development authority, the Hyderabad City Improvement Board (CIB). From then on, the city saw several new constructions, including buildings, roads, bridges, sewers, railways, parks, dams, courts, universities and hospitals.

After the Musi river flooded, Osman Ali Khan is believed to have initiated the construction of two reservoirs — Osman Sagar and Himayat Sagar — by Sir M Visvesvaraya, even before he came to power. Many heritage structures, including the Osmania General Hospital, Hyderabad High Court, Government City College, Kacheguda railway station and Osmania University were built by the Last Nizam.

An unmissable part of old Hyderabad

In 1919, the Nizam commissioned British architect Vincent Esch to design a hospital equipped with modern facilities. 

Esch was known as the pioneer of the Indo-Saracenic style of architecture, which combined elements from Mughal architecture with the British style. The architect had earlier worked on the Victoria Memorial in Calcutta. In a report on Esch, writer and lecturer GHR Tillotson calls this style, “an attempt by British architects in India, beginning in the last third of the nineteenth century, to develop a style which reflected the local architectural heritage, and so to present an Indian imagery for the buildings of the Raj”.

Tillotson adds that Esch described his style used in Hyderabad as  ‘Perpendicular Mogul Saracenic’. “Esch regarded the style he used in Hyderabad as a slight departure from strict Mughal design, and used this term which acknowledges a visually evident Gothic influence,” adds Tillotson.

Flanking the left bank of the Musi River, Osmania General Hospital was built on 26.5 acres of land. What catches your eye when you see the majestic structure are the huge bulbous domes, which are an unmissable part of Old City’s skyline. The hospital reportedly cost Rs 20 lakh to build and the construction was completed in 1925.

The main building, which is the one activists want to save, was constructed using granite, limestone and lime plaster. The three-storied building has a jack arch roof that is supported by iron girders, and is said to be one of the early examples of smaller reinforced cement concrete slabs. 

While the plan and construction might be British, the grand dome, cupolas, historical motifs, and chajjas give the Mughal touch. There was also a park, nurses’ quarters (in case of quarantine), and a block for laundry, which were later demolished to make way for in-patient treatments. 

Today, the 1,168-bed hospital campus also includes a nursing and dental college. It is also one of the only tertiary hospitals in the old city that the poor from nearby districts also have access to. 

A fight to retain an icon

In July 2020, the heritage block at the OGH was flooded and subsequently vacated. Continuous rains left the wards in the heritage building filled with ankle-deep water. It was sealed and vacated after that.

Students and doctors have been demanding urgent repairs for a long time now.

“In the last 10 years, all OMC (Osmania Medical College) students have faced problems while studying at OGH. Almost every corner or room has patches of roof that have collapsed over the years. They make temporary repairs, but in the rainy season, these issues worsen. There is always a heavy influx of patients and if we need to provide better services, then we need better maintenance of the building as well,” said Dr Kadali Vishni, who passed out from OMC in 2014 to The News Minute.

This led to a renewed push by politicians to demolish the structure and build a new hospital.

What everyone unanimously agrees upon, is the fact that the building is in urgent need of repair and restoration. While Telangana Chief Minister K Chandrashekar Rao wants the entire structure to be demolished, conservation architects want it to be restored.

Conservation architects and historians, however, have been arguing for saving the heritage building — which is built on 1 acre — and building a new hospital around it. The structure is graded a II-B Heritage Building in Hyderabad Metropolitan Development Association (HMDA) Listing and is protected under the Heritage Regulations of HMDA. A change.org petition was started in July 2020 to ‘Save Osmania General Hospital-Protect Heritage and Health’, which received more than 14,000 signatures. 

“This is not just a building but it is the skyline of the city. The entire Musi and the banks of it tell the story of the city and how it took shape,” said conservation architect GSV Suryanarayana Murthy to The Print.

In August 2015 and 2019, INTACH (Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage) published a report stating that the building was in a “very good and structurally stable condition and did not pose a threat to its occupants”. In November 2019, Telangana’s Department of Archaeology and Museums and the Aga Khan Trust for Culture published a report that stated that the heritage building need not be demolished. Both reports state that the building should be restored based on heritage conservation principles.

“Taking everything into consideration, we observed that the heritage building is safe for another century, however it requires some repairs. The way the building was built shows how well it was planned — there was a lot of ventilation, large corridors, and proper outlets for the water. The damage caused to it is purely due to ‘unscientific intervention’. There was also a park opposite to the hospital for people to relax, which has been destroyed,” said Anuradha Reddy of INTACH to The Print.  

“You have to have a basic sense of history, culture, heritage, and an idea of its importance. These are markers of identity, these are icons of the past — if you don’t retain that, Hyderabad is no longer a 400-year-old city,” said Sajjad Shahid, a historian and conservation activist, to Caravan. 

Sources

‘Demolition of Osmania Hospital will be a big blow to Hyderabad’s history’ by Yunus Y Lasania for The News Minute, Published on 08 August 2023 

‘Osmania Hospital: An Icon In Need Of Intensive Care’ by Aveek Bhowmik for Live History India, Published on 01 August 2020

‘KCR’s planned demolition of Osmania Hospital undermines COVID efforts, city’s heritage’ by Sarah Khan for The Caravan, Published on 16 August 2020

‘Osmania hospital, the Nizam era Hyderabad hospital caught in a heritage vs health debate’ by Rishika Sadam for The Print, Published on 04 August 2021

‘Hyderabad heritage activists say decision to raze Osmania General Hospital buildings unconstitutional, remind Govt of Irrum Manzil judgment’ by Rahul V Pisharody for The Indian Express, Published on 31 July 2023

Architexturez.Net

What is fascinating is that the role of Indian music has always gone beyond being a form of art and entertainment, striving to have a deeper overarching meaning. 

Take the ragas for example, which were written with the intent of getting people to “awaken” and get in touch with their higher selves. Classical music, on the other hand, was written with the intent of spreading messages about love, culture and harmony. Whatever the genre, music in India has always been an emotion. Today we look back at some of its defining moments. 

1. The unsung musician 

Madan Mohan, often touted as the ‘King of Melody’ for his contribution to film music, was ironically never seen in the spotlight. In fact, composer Khayyam would often call him the ‘uncrowned king’ of music as, despite not being formally trained in classical music and delivering great hits all the same, he was rarely recognised for his work. 

One of his greatest hits was a composition of his third film Madhosh (1951), in which veteran Lata Mangeshkar sang Meri Dil Ki Nagri Mein Aana and Meri Aankhon Ki Neend Le Gaya. 

2. Delighting outer space with her voice 

In 2012, NASA space probe Voyager 1, travelling at more than 40,000 miles per hour, became the first man-made object to enter interstellar space and people across the globe applauded this event. Indians joined in for more reasons than one. 

On board the spacecraft, a 12-inch gold-plated copper disc had an album compiled by American astronomer Carl Sagan, titled ‘Sounds Of Earth’ that included a Hindustani classical music composition — Jaat Kahan Ho by the legendary Kesarbai Kerkar.  

Among the many honours she was bestowed with during her lifetime, were the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award in 1953, the Padma Bhushan in 1969 and the title of ‘Rajya Gayika’. 

3. Healing Assam with music 

In 1960 violence ensued in Assam when the state decided to recognise Assamese as the only official language, despite having a significant Bengali-speaking population. As the state began witnessing vandalism, destruction and violence, leaders were at a loss for what to do. 

This was around the same time that two musician friends — Bengali folk singer-songwriter Hemango Biswas and Assam’s Bhupen Hazarika — were leading a troupe of artists through the riot-torn countryside. History tells us that the duo composed a song titled Haradhan-Rongmon Katha, which narrated the story of two peasants — one Assamese and the other Bengali — who had lost their respective homes and health during the riots.

Following their performance at the Shillong Club on 27 August 1960, where they sang this song, the duo began a journey through the state where they would convey messages of peace and harmony through their music. 

4. Godfather of World Music 

The bond between music maestro Ravi Shankar and his sitar was a fascinating one. The scholar of classical music gave the world many hits to remember, leaving an unparalleled legacy behind. 

One of the most told stories is of Ravi Shankar performing a mesmeric four-hour set at the Monterey International Pop Music Festival in California in July 1967, where the likes of recording artist Jimi Hendrix were also present. 

Throughout his life the legend demanded rigour and attention from his audience and that they get “high” on his music, and he managed to achieve this with people across the globe. In the words of his biographer Oliver Craske, Ravi Shankar had brought about a ‘Sitar Explosion’ in the West. 

5. India’s first rock band 

Calling themselves ‘Moheener Ghoraguli’, the rock band was started by Gautam Chattopadhyay, who formed the group in 1975 with his brothers and friends.  Gaurab Chatterjee, Gautam’s son, recounted to The Better India how the music had elements of rock, jazz, blues and Western classical music while folk elements from Bengal were also very visible in the compositions.

“For my father, a band from India, or even Bengal, had to sound like it belonged to the country instead of blindly aping the West. Having one’s own elements meant a great deal to him,” Gaurab notes.

A few of their hit songs included Shono Sudhijon [Dearly Beloved], Haay Bhalobashi [We love with sadness], and Prithibi Ta Naki Chhoto Hote Hote. 

This song was later recreated by composer Pritam in his song ‘Bheegi Bheegi Si Hai Raatein’ for the 2006 movie Gangster. 

6. The Queen of Ghazals 

Few know that it was Begum Akhtar (also known as the Mallika-e-Ghazal) whose songs served as inspiration for Pandit Jasraj to become a singer at the age of six. Whether it was semi-classical or classical Hindustani music like the ghazal, thumri and dadra, she was successful in breathing life into every composition. 

As it turns out, a lifetime’s worth of grief and pain were the ingredients that made her music so soulful. Her lawyer father Asghar Hussain abandoned his wife Mushtari and his two children — Akhtar and Zohra (twin sisters) when they were only four years old. 

After consuming poisoned sweets, both sisters were rushed to the hospital, but Zohra tragically didn’t make it. The only remedy that Akhtar could turn to to heal herself was music, which she gave her whole and soul to until she got married. After a sabbatical of eight years from music due to societal restrictions, Aktar’s health began to give way and doctors recommended her to turn to music to heal once again which she did until her death in 1974. 

7. Ae Mere Watan ke Logon 

The significance of this song in India’s history is no secret. With Kavi Pradeep’s heart-wrenching lyrics that match the sombre beat, the song was one of Lata Mangeshkar’s best works and was sung by her for the first time on 27 January 1963 during the Republic Day celebrations at the National Stadium in New Delhi. Mangeshkar’s mellifluous voice moved prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru to tears.

An anecdote tells of how the idea for the lyrics came to poet Pradeep while he was taking a walk along Mahim Beach in Mumbai. He borrowed a pen from a fellow stroller and wrote the first stanza of the song on the foil from a pack of cigarettes. It was meant to be an ode to the bravery of soldiers who had fought in the 1962 Indo-China war.

While Pradeep, in his career spanning five decades, wrote over 1,700 songs, it was this song that would truly make him a legend amongst the songwriters in the country.

At the break of dawn in Hirachak Dehria village in Uttar Pradesh, 31-year-old Rekha Devi assumes her duties as a homemaker, mother, wife, caregiver and provider for the family. She says she learnt her share of life lessons early on. After getting married, Rekha moved to Uttar Pradesh from Nepal. There, she became a mother to four children, bearing the entire responsibility since her husband was addicted to gambling.

Recalling those years, Rekha shares, “We would go hungry day after day. My husband, who was a weaver, was very irregular with his work because of his addictions. He would go one day and stay home for the next five.”

To add to these woes, she was unable to understand the local dialect, and thus couldn’t find work herself. “I was just desperate to bring food into the house. I couldn’t see my children starving,” she says.

Months of misery were followed by a ray of hope when, one day, Rekha went knocking on homes for food. While at it, she learnt that a carpet business was training women in the fine art of carpet weaving and paying them for the same.

A woman going off to work was unheard of in the village at that time, shares Rekha, adding that her decision to join the business was met with resistance both in and outside her home. “I fought it and went anyway,” she proudly adds.

Today, Rekha is among the 1,800 women trained by Obeetee — a legacy Indian brand that prides itself on its handmade carpets and rugs.

Rekha’s journey with Obeetee grew with the passing years. And today, this master weaver ties an average of 8,000 knots a day at the weaving centre. How has this transformed her life? “I run the house now and also help others with money to run their house. All my children go to school,” she smiles.

Angelique Dhama, CEO of Obeetee Carpets — Retail, meanwhile, adds that this was explicitly the intent behind the brand investing in women empowerment through their training programme started in 2016. The last seven years have chronicled numerous success stories of their women weavers, Rekha being just one of the examples, a shining one at that.

How women entered the looms of Uttar Pradesh

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It all started when the brand noticed a gap in 2015. Weaving as art was traditionally and historically taught to men and boys. The rigid patriarchal norms governed this art, meaning that women had no permission to work in commercial looms. They were alienated from the craft.

Even so, for the longest time, this gap was hardly visible as the men would work in weaves while the women took care of the family at home. It was only with modernisation that the problem started to become more prominent.

Men left the village for cities in search of better lives and incomes, leaving women behind. This led to a shortage of loom workers. The children followed their fathers, enticed by better city living. Meanwhile, the women left behind were eager to work due to financial needs but lacked the necessary loom skills due to being kept away from it.

“Even though we were offering free training along with a stipend as part of our programme, women were not coming forward to learn. We had to work hard to convince the elders in the village to let/encourage women to come forward,” shares Gaurav Sharma, managing director, Obeetee.

Finally, with time and effort, this became possible. Today, the women from these villages are empowered to work and be financially independent. But this training programme is not the only pillar of the luxury brand’s phenomenal success. It is also the history stitched into its every fibre since 1920.

Legacy woven into the seams 

The story traces its steps back to the time of Emperor Akbar.

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Legend tells of how the emperor, a connoisseur of beautiful things, had an exceptional fondness for carpets. He thus decided to go on a mission and bring the finest Persian artists and weavers to India. Mind you, this was five centuries ago in the mid-1500s.

When Akbar was returning from this quest accompanied by the weavers he had sought from Persia, they decided to halt at Gopiganj, a town in Uttar Pradesh. But during their repose, the caravan was attacked by bandits and the weavers were slaughtered. Those who managed to escape took shelter in the neighbouring villages, with most taking to Mirzapur.

In time, these weavers set up their looms in Mirzapur. Today, the town is fondly known as the ‘Mecca of carpet weaving’. The weavers grew in numbers, passing the craft’s tradition to their children and grandchildren.

All this was happening against the backdrop of the freedom struggle. The British were no strangers to the fine art of carpet weaving and held a fascination for these Moghul hand-knotted floor coverings with their beautiful depictions.

In 1920, soon after World War I, three British gentlemen — FH Oakley, FH Bowden, and JAL Taylor — decided to scale the work of these weavers in Mirzapur and started a small business by the name Obeetee.

Pronounced OBT, the name is an ode to the initials of the three men — Oakley, Bowden and Taylor. For 103 years, the luxury business has been working with “over 20,000 artisans” of the villages on Mirzapur to weave legacy carpets that have found their way to the most influential places in the country.

This includes the New Parliament building and the houses of Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha. Dhama affirms that “as many as 900 weavers from the districts of Bhadohi and Mirzapur spent 10 lakh man hours to carpet India’s New Parliament building, while the weavers also crafted 158 carpets for the Lok Sabha and 156 for the Rajya Sabha”. These carpets were stitched into a single carpet in the form of a semi-circle to sync with the architecture of each of the Houses.

Such is the grandeur of the carpets that 120 knots per square inch were woven to create them, amounting to over 600 million knots approximately in total.

Another locale of the carpet is the Rashtrapati Bhawan, where a carpet measuring over 450 square metres and containing a whopping 100 million intricate knots had been woven by the weavers.

Aside from decorating some of the most influential buildings in the country, Obeetee also retails handwoven rugs and carpets. In 1969, it was credited with being the world’s first licensee of Woolmark for hand-knotted rugs.

A weave for every occasion

Dhama adds, “We are rooted in traditional design approach. Even when drawing inspiration from Persian, Moroccan, and Chinese designs, the brand has predominantly focused on the traditional aspects.”

She adds that in recent years Obeetee has recognised the demand for new, fresh, and adaptive aesthetics, and has embarked on the journey to incorporate these into its collections. “For instance, the evolution of painted designs,” she adds.

Today, as part of Obeetee’s collections, one can access a myriad of these traditional weaving patterns. These include — hand-knotted rugs that borrow inspiration from the Antolia weaving pattern (where the warp and weft comprise white silk threads); Nain technique (done on vertical looms with Persian knot style); Mirza weaving (that has the traditional mirror work integrated into the fabric) and more.

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Their collections also boast Dhurrie rugs (woven in such a way that they do not require a warp, resulting in a thin fabric); hand-tufted fabrics (where wool strands are pulled out of the fabric using a tufting gun, a technique that reduces the time taken to produce a rug); and of course the traditional handloom woven pieces.

The selection of flatwoven, knotted carpets and floor coverings range from Rs 200 per square foot to Rs 11,000 per square foot. As its carpets continue to enhance homes across the country, the happiest are the women artisans who aren’t victims of habit anymore, rather they are creating their own paths with this newfound freedom.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

Food, as they say, evokes emotions unlike anything else. While the taste of a dish is left to the chef’s genius, what also adds to its flavour is its winding history through time. Every dish, you see, is the result of a story. 

And today we bring you 10 such fascinating stories that have not just stood the test of time but have found love in palates across the globe. 

1. Ratlami Sev and the Mughals 

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An interesting anecdote tells of how the Mughal emperors were on a tour of the Malwa region in the 19th century and began having some cravings. The unusual craving was to have some sevaiyan (a creamy pudding dessert traditionally consumed during Eid). Members of the local Bhil tribe were asked to prepare the dish with available ingredients, and the rest is history. The Bhils substituted the usual wheat in the sevaiyan recipe with gram flour and thus was born the culinary gem, the Ratlami Sev, which went on to get the coveted GI tag in 2015. 

2. Gujiya and the Turks 

You are no stranger to the baklava. The layered pastry dessert filled with chopped nuts and sweetened with honey tops many people’s list of favourites. 

But to many it would come as a surprise that this Turkish dessert may actually be the ancestor of the gujiya, a traditional dish enjoyed at Holi. Historical lores suggest that people in the 13th century would mix jaggery in honey, cover the gooey mix with wheat flour and sun dry it to produce the famous sweet. Others suggest that it was the samosa that inspired the gujiya. Which theory do you support? 

3. The fascinating tale of Nolen Gur 

Come winter and out come the jars of jaggery, a common sight on the chequered dining tables of Indian homes. But all varieties of jaggery pale in comparison to the nolen gur, which is considered one of the healthiest. 

The story of its origins date to as early as 4th century BC, when artisans known as ‘Siulis’ residing in Pundra Bardhan (now Bogra) in Bengal would extract the sap of the date palm tree to sell in markets. The extraction was no easy process and would involve a gritty feat of scaling the thorny date palm trees at night to cut the flower cluster at the end. Timing was of the essence as the minute the climate would turn humid, wet, or even rainy, the sap would begin to turn turbid. With time the artisans got better at their task and nolen gur became a staple in Bengal and throughout India. 

4. Delhi & Chole Bhature: An unending love story 

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History can never forget the maker of the chole bhature. Peshori Lal Lamba not only gave the world this gastronomic delight, but also invented it amid the most challenging circumstances — the Partition of 1947. 

Peshori was among the thousands who fled from his hometown in Lahore. He set up the Kwality restaurant in Connaught Place, Delhi after migrating here, and it was here that he served the first chole bhature. Other reports credit Sita Ram, the man behind the iconic Sita Ram Diwan Chand that serves “the world’s best chole”. Whatever the story of inception, Delhi and her love affair with the dish is a timeless one. 

5. A wrestler’s attempt at Dodha Barfi 

Amidst the many varieties of sweets that border the Indian mithai scene, there is one that spells ‘opulence’ in the way it is made and the flavour it has. 

The barfi is synonymous with the king of mithais and for anyone wondering about its origins, it was serendipity that was the reason behind it. In 1912 wrestler Harbans Vig wanted to up the taste of his regular meals.  He was tired of the monotonous ghee and milk that he would have to consume to retain his fitness and strength. 

As the saying goes, necessity is the mother of invention, and so this need for an upgrade in the diet was met with him trying out a recipe of his own in 1912. A concoction of milk, cream, sugar and ghee rendered the barfi its delicious taste and of course, this satisfied Harbans cravings. The Royal Dodha House, the outlet that continues to manufacture barfis with the original recipe, is managed by the wrestler’s great-grandson. 

6. Silao Khaja and the Mauryans 

The crispy multilayered sweet made from wheat and sugar dates back to 320 BCE, when it is estimated originating during the Maurya dynasty in a small village called Silao that lies in between the ancient city Mithila and Nalanda of present-day Bihar. The location was a strategic one to make the sweet in, as wheat was the predominant crop found here at the time. 

Accounts during the period narrate a story of Chinese traveller Hiuen Tsang commending the sweet on his visit to the ancient city of Mithila, while other reports tell of how Gautama Buddha too was served the GI-tagged sweet during his trip here. 

7. Shah Jahan and the chutney

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Admit it. No chaat, Indian snack or meal would be complete without the tanginess of chutney to accompany it. Ask any food connoisseur what goes into the chutney and the list is never exhaustive. 

But how did such a versatile dish come into existence? 

History tells us we have Shah Jahan to thank for it. In the 17th century, a bout of illness had the emperor being recommended a strict diet by the doctors. Their instructions were specific. The dish had to be spicy, full of flavour, and easy to digest. What helped Shah Jahan to recover, is today relished by countless Indians, making the chutney an unmissable element at the dining table. 

8. Bebinca and what it had to do with patience 

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‘Bibik’ as it is popularly known as, is the result of Portuguese culinary skill coupled with the art of patience, owing to the time it takes to prepare. 

In the 17th century, using egg whites to starch clothes was a common practice, leaving an excess of egg yolks behind. A nun in Goa Bebiana decided to put these to use in a creative way. The result was a seven-layered pudding that symbolised the seven hills of the old city of Goa and Lisbon. So loved was the dessert that the priests in Goa, who were the first tasters, asked for more layers to be added. The current version of the dessert has at least 16 layers, which essentially means that each layer must be painstakingly layered, lathered and baked 16 times! 

9. The humble vada pav’s tale 

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If we asked you to put a date to the origin of the vada pav, you’d probably assume it came into being centuries ago. But turns out, that’s not quite true. 

The year was 1966. Mumbaikar Ashok Vaidya would sell poha and vadas at his shop. But in spite of good sales and the popularity of these items he was always thinking of new snacks for the mill workers, who loved pocket-friendly quick meals. One day, driven by instinct, Ashok placed the deep-fried vada with a potato filling between pav and served it with chutney. The iconic vada pav was born and continues to be the identity of the maximum city. 

10. Curry and its trip through time 

From dhansak and korma to rogan josh, kuzhambu and vindaloo, curries have established their dominion in our hearts for years. The origins of this favourite were traced back to the 400-year-old Harappan civilisation by two archaeologists Arunima Kashyap and Steve Webber of Washington State University. 

Their analysis of starch grains led to the identification of the world’s ‘oldest’ proto-curry from the shards of a handi (a clay pot).

The curry has, of course, been an ever-evolving dish with contributions from many different cultures influencing the first recipe that was published by a woman named Hannah Glasse in 1747. Since then the curry has travelled far and wide and evolved into the staple that it is today. 

Edited by Divya Sethu

Pir Muhammed Munis, a journalist known for the power of his pen, was instrumental in his role in the Champaran Satyagraha movement, also touted as India’s first organised act of civil disobedience.

Through his body of work, he scripted a record of heroism that is etched into the sands of time. 

To truly appreciate Munis’ role in the struggle for Independence, we trace our steps to 1916, when the British Raj was exercising exceeding control over Indians. One particularly vulnerable group were the farmers in Champaran, Bihar. 

The source of contention was the agrarian practices in the region. While the British were intent on the peasants growing indigo, a lucrative cash crop with sizable demand in the markets abroad, the farmers were deprived of land for growing food crops instead. This tussle culminated in a famine, causing the farmers to rise in revolt against the dominion of the British. As the conflict escalated, word reached Gandhi. How? 

Pir Muhammed Munis was behind it. 

A ‘rouge journalist’ 

The uprising of the peasants in Champaran wasn’t going unnoticed. The country was reading about it thanks to Munis, who left no stone unturned in letting his views reflect his patriotic feelings. In the years to come, Pir Muhammed Munis would go down in history as the journalist who raised his voice when it was most difficult to be heard. 

He chronicled the efforts of the farmers, the unlawful practices of the British and more such news in Hindi — despite the elite class being fluent in Urdu, Persian and English — displaying his ardent love for the language. In his later life, he went on to advocate for Hindi to be propagated amongst the masses. Anecdotes suggest during his later interactions with Gandhi, Munis even went on to teach the legend the language, a skill that greatly helped the latter. 

So persistent and vocal was he about his patriotic opinions that he was termed as “notorious”, “bitter” and “dangerous” by the British, eventually being branded as a ‘badmash patrakar (rouge journalist)’. 

A British Police document from the Azadi Ke Deewane Museum at Red Fort reads, “Pir Muhammed Munis is actually a dangerous and hoodlum journalist who through his questionable literature, brought to light the sufferings of a backward place like Champaran in Bihar.”

The letter that set the stage for the uprising

But nothing stopped Munis from continuing to write, his pen a double-edged sword. His works appeared frequently in Pratap, a Hindi weekly, and monthlys such as Gyanshakti and Gorakhpur. He was also on the editorial board of Desh launched and edited by Dr Rajendra Prasad.

The most famous letter among his repertoire of literary works is a letter he penned with local farmer Rajkumar Shukla, intended to be sent to Gandhi on 27 February 1917. Shukla conveyed the grievances of the farming community, while Munis coupled this with his power of words. An excerpt from the letter reads, “Our sad tale is much worse than what you and your comrades have suffered in South Africa”. 

In another letter dated 22 March 1917, Munis once again voiced his concerns about the peasants in Champaran, and asked Gandhi to pay them a visit. And when he did on 10 April 1917, people commended the bond between the two, often calling Munis Gandhi’s pillar as he hatched plans for the Champaran Satyagraha. 

As the first Satyagraha movement, it set the stage for future mass protests and uprisings. Gandhi set up schools in the Champaran area, gathered volunteers, conducted village surveys, organised protests, and strikes, and advocated for control over the sale of crops to be given to the farmers. And through this mutiny, Munis was by his side. 

This did not go down well with the British. As a letter written by W H Lewis, sub-division officer to the commissioner of Tirhut division indicates, “… Mr Gandhi got offers of assistance, the most prominent is Pir Muhammad. I have not (sic) full details of his career, but either Whitty or Marsham could give them. He is, I believe, a convert to Muhammadanism and was a teacher in the Raj School. He was dismissed from his post for virulent attacks on local management published in or about 1915 in the press. He lives in Bettiah and works as a press correspondent for the Pratap of Lucknow, a paper which distinguished itself for its immoderate expressions on Champaran Questions… Pir Muhammad is the link between this Bettiah class of mostly educated and semi-educated men and the next class, i.e. the Raiyats’ own leaders…”

The result of the tyranny 

History never forgets the cries of the just, and the Champaran Satyagraha was proof of this. 

The mutiny ended with the British officers agreeing to formulate the Champaran Agrarian Act of 1918. The Act abolished the forcible cultivation of indigo and thus relieved tremendous pressure being put on the farmers here. The event has gone down in history as one of the first major revolts that forced the English to introduce a Bill in favour of the Indians. 

With the Tinkathia system being abolished, the farmers thought the worst was over. But the British continued to oppress them in different ways. Fuelled by ending this once and for all, Munis started Raiyati Sabha, a platform that would advocate for and protect the rights of the farming community. For this, Munis faced a six-month jail term. 

This wasn’t the last of imprisonment. In 1930 he was imprisoned in the Patna Camp jail for three months for his participation in the Salt Satyagraha of the Civil Disobedience Movement. 

However, nothing could deter him from his goal of protecting the rights of his countrymen. In 1937, he led sugarcane producers who were protesting against intermediaries who were pocketing a major part of the earnings. He was also elected member of the Champaran Zila Parishad (District Board) on the Congress ticket and became President of Bettiah Local Board, from which he resigned to join the Individual Civil Disobedience Movement.

Throughout his lifetime, he advocated for rural development, popularisation of Hindi in primary schools and the rights of his fellow Indians. Until his passing away on 23 September 1949 Munis continued to be a leader worth looking up to for his countrymen.

Lauding the efforts of Munis on his passing away, Pratap editor Ganesh Shankar Vidyarthi, wrote in his newspaper, “We have the utmost sorrow that Pir Muhammed Munis of Bettiah, Champaran district has died. We have the privilege to see such souls who are quietly lying aside. The world doesn’t come to know anything about their issues. The lesser these sons of Mother India are renowned, the more profound is their work, the more philanthropic.”

He further wrote, “You recited the dreadful story of Champaran to Gandhi ji and this was a result of your hard-work only that Mahatma Gandhi visited Champaran which made this land a pious place and the place which is unerasable in the pages of history”.

Sources 

Here’s The Story Of Pir Muhammad Munis, A Hindi Journalist And Unsung Hero Of Champaran Satyagraha by Afroz Alam Sahil, Published on 10 April 2018. 

Republic Day 2022: From The man who designed the Tricolour to Unsung hero of Pasighat… saluting the heroes who made India great by Free Press Journal, Published on 25 January 2022. 

Pir Mohammad Munis: An organic intellectual activist of the Champaran Satyagraha by Two Circles, Published on 1 May 2013.  

Here, the phrase ‘breakfast like a king…’ is taken very seriously. With a cuppa chai to go with it, Indian breakfasts ensure your mornings start healthy and right and give your palate the feast it deserves. 

This is a map portraying 54 such delectable desi breakfasts famous in different regions of the country, each a speciality in its own right. 

While every dish among these is heaven on a plate, here’s a deep dive into five breakfasts of India.

Girda & Kahwa

Girda, a traditional fermented Kashmiri bread with kahwa, which is a tropical beverage made of green tea leaves, saffron, cinnamon, cardamom and cloves is famous in the Kashmir Valley. While the dish is easy to prepare, the bread needs to ferment for at least 12 hours to get the right notes of sponginess and chewiness. 

Ingredients needed for girda, (Serves 6)

• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup wheat flour/atta
• 2 tsp ghee
• Salt to taste
• 1 /2 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp poppy seeds

How to make girda:

• Take the maida in a bowl, and knead it into a soft dough. Cover and leave it to ferment for at least 12 hours or overnight.
• When you are ready to make the bread, add the wheat flour, sugar if adding, salt and baking powder.
• Knead to a soft dough adding water as required.
• Roll out as 6-diameter discs. Press the poppy seeds over the top and cook on a hot pan.
• You can flip to the other side and cook on low flame.
• Brush with ghee before serving with a side dish.

How to make kahwa:

• Heat three cups of water in a pan.
• Add 10 to 12 strands of saffron, half-inch stick of cinnamon, one clove, half tsp dried rose petals and one crushed cardamom in water and let it simmer for 3-4 minutes.
• Switch off the heat and add green tea to the water. Let the tea steep for a minute.
• Strain the tea into 2 cups. Add two tsp almond slivers and a few strands of saffron. Add one tsp honey if you like your kahwa slightly sweet. Serve hot.
• Strain the kahwa in 2 cups.
• Add almond slivers and a few strands of saffron.
• Add honey if required.
• Serve hot. 

Puttu Kadala Curry

The star ingredient of this South Indian breakfast is black gram. It lends its protein and vitamin-rich qualities to the dish, thus providing a delicious taste along with boosting health. 

In fact, the dish has been termed the fast food of the 16th century for its versatility and ease of preparation. Its significance is that it used discarded rice that would otherwise be used for floor art. 

Ingredients needed for puttu kadala curry, (Serves 4)

For pressure cooking: 

• Black chana: 2 cups cooked (soak the dried chana in enough water for at least 8 hrs). 
• Turmeric powder: 1/4tsp
• Salt to taste

For roast: 

• Grated coconut: 3/4 cup (fresh grated or frozen)
• Small red onion: 2 (sliced)
• Garlic: 2 (cloves)
• Coriander seeds: 1 tbsp or substitute with coriander powder: 1 tsp
• Whole garam masala: fennel seeds – 1 tsp
• Cardamom: 1 pod
• Cinnamon stick: 1/2 inch
• Star anise: 1
• Whole black pepper: 10
• Curry leaves: few
• Coconut oil: 1 tbsp

For gravy: 

• Onion: 1 cup (sliced)
• Red small onions: 2-4 (sliced)
• Green chillies: 3 (slit lengthwise)
• Red chilly powder: 1 tsp 
• Turmeric powder: 1/4 tsp
• Mustard seeds: 1/2 tsp
• Dry whole red chillies: 2 no
• Sliced coconut pieces: 1 tbsp
• Curry leaves: 1 sprig
• Coconut oil: 1/2 tsp
• Salt to taste

How to make puttu kadala curry: 

• Soak black channa overnight and pressure cook them by adding enough water, a little turmeric powder and salt for 5-6 whistles. Open when the pressure settles and reserve extra stock from the black chickpea for the gravy.
• Heat coconut oil in a pan and add the whole spices; saute for a few seconds. Add the sliced pearl onions, sliced garlic, and curry leaves. Saute for a minute.
• Now add the grated coconut. Saute and roast on low fire till coconut turns medium brown. Remove from the fire and let it cool. 
• Transfer the roasted coconut masala to a blender and grind the ingredients to a smooth paste adding very little water.
• In a big deep pan;  heat coconut oil and splutter mustard seeds, and add dry red chillies. 
• Now add the sliced coconut pieces and saute until they turn brown, add the sliced onion, sliced red small onions, green chillies, salt and curry leaves. Saute until they turn light brown.
• Add turmeric powder, and red chilli powder, saute for a few seconds and add the reserved stock from the cooked kadala. Bring to a boil.
• Now add the ground coconut paste and cooked kadala. Mix well and adjust the salt. Cook until semi-thick gravy. When it is done, remove and keep the dish covered until serving.

Khaman Dhokla

A favourite in Gujarati cuisine, the dhokla is said to date back right to the 11th century. In contrast to the dhokla which is made of gram flour, the dukkia, which was the precursor of the dhokla was made with pulses. 

The spongy savoury cake is not only delicious but also a healthy fermented food quick to whip up. 

Ingredients needed for khaman dhokla, (Serves 4)

• Gram flour (besan) 2 cups
• Yoghurt whisked 1 cup
• Salt to taste
• Green chillies 2-3
• Ginger 1 1/2 inch piece
• Turmeric powder 1/2 teaspoon
• Oil 2 tablespoons
• Soda bicarbonate 1 teaspoon
• Lemon juice 1 tablespoon
• Mustard seeds 1 teaspoon
• Fresh coriander leaves chopped 2 tablespoons
• Coconut scraped 1/4 cup

How to make khaman dhokla:

• Take gram flour in a bowl. Add yoghurt and warm water and whisk well so that there are no lumps. The mixture should be of slightly thick consistency. Add salt and leave it covered to ferment for three to four hours. Grind green chillies and ginger into a paste. When the gram flour mixture has fermented, add turmeric powder and green chilli-ginger paste.
• Adjust seasoning and mix well. Heat the steamer. Grease a dhokla mould or shallow cake tin. In a small bowl take soda bicarbonate, one teaspoon of oil and lemon juice. Mix and add to the gram flour mixture and whisk briskly. Pour batter into the greased thali and place it in the steamer. Cover with the lid and steam for ten to twelve minutes. 
• When a little cool, cut into squares and keep in a serving bowl/plate. Heat the remaining oil in a small pan. Add mustard seeds. When the seeds begin to crackle, remove and pour over the dhoklas. Serve, garnished with coriander leaves and coconut. 

Chakuli

A fermented rice pancake sort of dish, the chakuli is a popular breakfast in Eastern India, especially Odisha. What is interesting is the way the dish is prepared, and how the precise amount of salt determines the quality. 

Salt is believed to slow down the fermentation process of the rice and lentils, and if the right amount of salt isn’t added, the dish can turn acidic. 

Ingredients needed for chakuli, (Makes 15 pithas)

• 1 cup urad dal
• 2 cup rice
• Salt to taste
• Water as required
• Cooking oil as required

How to make chakuli pitha:  

For the batter:

• Wash and soak urad dal and rice in water overnight. Then, filter out the extra water and grind it to make a fine paste. Add the rice and urad dal with just as required water. Save the extra water.
• Slowly add water as required to make a smooth batter.
• Keep aside the mixture for 4 to 5 hours for fermentation.
• Add salt and water to the paste for making the batter a little thin. Make sure the batter doesn’t get too watery.
• This is the regular method of making, however, what’s also suggested is that you can make the pithas after 30 minutes of grinding and fermentation.

For the pithas: 

• Heat a nonstick pan on medium flame.
• When the pan gets heated, grease well with cooking oil.
• Take a ladleful of batter and spread it all over the pan in a circular shape.
• After a while, check the lower side of the pitha. Once the lower side turns brownish, flip it to the other side.
• When the pancake is cooked well from both sides, switch off the stove. Repeat the procedure for all the pancakes.
• Serve hot.

Egg Shoap

A cutlet made with eggs, potatoes and spices, an egg shoap is the perfect breakfast in Nagaland. Along with being eaten as a breakfast meal, it can also be eaten as a deep-fried snack in the evenings. 

Ingredients for egg shoap, (Serves 4)

• 4 whole eggs, boiled
• 3 potatoes boiled & mashed
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 2 green chillies, finely chopped
• 1 tsp cumin powder
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder
• Salt, to taste
• 2 whole eggs, beaten
• 2 cups whole wheat bread crumbs
• Oil, for deep frying 

How to make egg shoap: 

• In a large mixing bowl, add potatoes and boiled eggs and mash them well together. 
• Heat 2 teaspoons oil in a wok and add onions and green chillies. Saute till translucent in colour.
• Season with salt, turmeric and cumin powder and fry for another 2 minutes. 
• Add the fried onion mix into mashed potato and egg and mix well such that the flavours incorporate well. 
• Meanwhile, heat oil in a deep frying pan.
• Shape the egg and potato mixture into round or oval cutlets.
• Dip them in beaten egg and roll over bread crumbs.
• Deep fry the cutlets till golden in colour.

Sources

Girda ~ Kashmiri Fermented Bread by Srivalli, Published on 5 October 2020. 

Kashmiri Tea Kahwa by Neha Mathur, Published on 3 May 2020. 

The history of Puttu and Kadala Kari by Madulika Dash, Published on 21 July 2022. 

How to make Khaman Dhokla by Sanjeev Kapoor. 

Edited by Yoshita Rao

A highly skilled pilot with the Royal Indian Air Force, Biju Patnaik flew a series of high-risk missions in 1947 to transport top Indonesian resistance leaders, including president Sukarno, vice-president Mohammad Hatta and prime minister Sutan Sjahrir away from the prying eyes of Dutch colonists looking to recolonise the country after World War II. 

Along the walls of this special room in the Indonesian Embassy are letters, photographs, and newspaper clippings documenting his secret missions and relationship with the Indonesian leadership. 

His story ranks among the most remarkable ones in recent Indian political history. 

Top Gun

Born on 5 March 1916 in Cuttack, Odisha, Biju grew up in relative comfort with his father Laxminarayan employed with the judicial service. Despite serving in the colonial administration, Laxminarayan was heavily involved in the Oriya Movement and maintained close ties with freedom fighters from his state like Gopabandhu Das and Madhusudhan Das. 

There were two events in Biju’s life that would shape his journey in life moving forward. 

Barely 11, he got his first taste of the freedom struggle. In 1927, he saw Mahatma Gandhi for the first time. Gandhi was on his ‘Khadi Tour’ in Cuttack, when a young Biju was assaulted by a British police officer for trying to catch a glimpse of the freedom fighter. 

Another seminal moment in his life arrived when, as a school student studying at the Mission School in Cuttack, he saw a small aeroplane landing at the city’s Killa Fort. 

“At that time I had only seen pictures of aeroplanes in books,” he recalled. He had always been fascinated by aeroplanes in school and this was his chance to actually see and touch one. 

In that anecdote, he went on to add that he ran away from school to touch his dream object, following which the police stationed there chased him away. 

Following his school, he went to university but dropped out to undergo training as a pilot at the Aeronautic Training Institute of India and Delhi Flying Club. When World War II began, Biju joined the Royal Indian Air Force. His exploits as a pilot during World War II remain legendary. 

According to an obituary published in The Independent on 1 May 1997, “As an officer in the Royal Indian Air Force in the early 1940s, Patnaik flew innumerable sorties to rescue British families fleeing the Japanese advance on Rangoon, the capital of Burma. He also dropped arms and supplies to Chinese troops fighting the Japanese and later to the Soviet army struggling against Hitler’s onslaught near Stalingrad. Two years ago, on the 50th anniversary of the end of the war, Patnaik was honoured by the Russians for his help.” 

While Biju understood his duties as a pilot for the Allied Forces in World War II, he was also under the spell of Mahatma Gandhi and his passive resistance to British rule. 

According to Dr Pabak Kanungo, a noted writer and Gandhian scholar, “While flying over Indian soldiers under the British Command, he dropped bags of Gandhi’s ‘Quit India’ leaflets to them. But though he served the British, Biju Patnaik’s loyalty was with the Indian freedom struggle.”

“While on leave, he ferried freedom fighters to secret meetings with their supporters. As head of the Air Transport Command, he sheltered prominent fighters like Jaya Prakash Narayan, Ram Manohar Lohia and Aruna Asaf Ali. While flying the British to safety from Yangon, he also air-dropped leaflets supporting the cause of Netaji’s Indian National Army,” he added. 

As Biju recalled, “When the British authority found out, they nearly got me shot for subversive activities. That was the time I was put behind bars during the Quit India Movement.” 

He was arrested on 13 January 1943 and sentenced to two years in prison for his actions. 

Following his release, Biju was employed as a pilot by the Indian National Airways, a private venture set up by Delhi-based industrialist Raymond Eustace Grant Govan. Even during his stint as a pilot for the airlines, he continued to lend his services to freedom fighters. 

In fact, there is an Intelligence Bureau note dated 29 September 1945, which claims that Biju “misused” his position as pilot by “surreptitiously flying [Ram Manohar] Lohia (who was at the time underground) from Delhi to Calcutta”. 

Remembering Biju Babu on his Jayanti. This document from the pages of history (dated 1945) gives a glimpse of his courage (flying Dr. Lohia, who was then underground) and excellence.

Biju Babu worked tirelessly for India’s progress and pioneered the development of Odisha. pic.twitter.com/XLEjzOFEiQ

— Narendra Modi (@narendramodi) March 5, 2020

The note goes on to state, “It can be argued that Patnaik may still be a danger so long as conditions on our Eastern border do not return to normal — but that would be to state a very hypothetical risk. In the circumstances, we do not feel that we can urge, on strong security grounds, that Patnaik should be prevented from flying.”      

However, the IB came to the conclusion that flying is his “normal way of making a living” and that if they even prevailed upon the Indian National Airways to not employ him, the Tatas would. In the following year, he was elected to the Orissa Assembly from the North Cuttack constituency and also started his first major business venture, Kalinga Tubes, at Choudwar. 

At one time, Kalinga Tubes was among Asia’s largest pipe manufacturing plants. But as he once said, “Flying is my first love and though it has dimmed with age, it still remains so.”   

Bhoomi Putra

After Japan’s formal surrender during World War II, they withdrew from the countries they had occupied in Southeast Asia, including Indonesia. Following this development, Indonesia declared independence on 17 August 1945 with Sukarno elected president and Sjahrir as prime minister. 

However, the Dutch, who had previously colonised Indonesia before World War II, rejected this declaration. What followed was a period of military hostilities and negotiations between the Indonesian resistance fighters and the Dutch and British colonial armies. 

Given the toll that World War II had taken on the British, they bowed out of this conflict early but offered to mediate between the remaining two sides — an offer which was rejected. 

Jawaharlal Nehru, prime minister of the interim government of India, was angered by the Dutch government’s attempts at recolonising Indonesia. Globally, he had aggressively campaigned for the freedom of many countries under the yoke of European colonialism, particularly those in Asia. The first major step he took in this regard was to organise the Asia Relations Conference in March-April 1947 in New Delhi to discuss the situation in Indonesia. 

Nehru also sent Biju to conduct risky air sorties to assist the Indonesian resistance as well. 

According to a report in The Hindu by Suhasini Haider, “Biju Patnaik’s missions involved flying in undetected to Yogjakarta where the ‘resistance’ Republican leadership led by Sukarno was based when Dutch forces launched ‘Operation Product’ on July 20, 1947 to capture the capital Jakarta. At Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru’s request, Patnaik, who had earlier served in the British Royal Air Force (RAF) and then joined the freedom movement, agreed to fly one of his Dakota planes into Indonesia, eluding Dutch air surveillance.”

However, there is one mission which someone could perhaps make a movie out of one day. 

Biju was tasked with transporting Indonesian PM Sutan Sjahrir and vice-president Mohammad Hatta out of Indonesia to India for secret talks with Nehru and Sardar Vallabhai Patel in New Delhi. 

As Dr Kanungo wrote, “In what can be aptly described as a drama in real life, Biju took off in an old fashioned Dakota with wife Gyan for Jakarta (leaving behind their 14-day-old son), where the rebel’s headquarters was located. In Singapore, he received a message from the Dutch threatening to shoot down his aircraft if it entered Indonesian airspace.” 

In response, Biju allegedly said with backing from Nehru, “Resurgent India does not recognise Dutch colonial sovereignty over the Indonesian people. If my aircraft is shot down, every Dutch plane flying across the Indian skies will be shot down in retaliation.” 

The ace pilot somehow landed his plane on an improvised air strip near Jakarta. To refuel his plane, he used up whatever petrol was left behind from abandoned Japanese military dumps and transported them to New Delhi via Singapore. 

There is another such incident memorialised at the room in the Indonesian Embassy. On another sortie, he had a narrow escape when Dutch Mustang planes bombed the airfiled where his plane had landed. Coming to his rescue was an engineer, who hid the plane. On the following day, he was caught in another air raid at an oil dump and “had to run 300 yards for cover as the Dutch [planes] strafed it.”   

Eventually, on 27 December 1949, Indonesia formally achieved its independence from the Netherlands. 

For his contribution to the cause, Biju was awarded the Bhoomi Putra (Son of the Soil), the nation’s highest civilian award, in 1950. As an interesting aside, president Sukarno named his daughter Megawati Sukarnoputri following Biju’s recommendation. Megawati would go on to become the fifth president of Indonesia (2001-2004). 

Despite seeing so much action, this wasn’t the last time Biju would employ his flying skills. 

Following India’s independence, he started his own airline, Kalinga Airways, and later that year conducted several sorties transporting soldiers to Jammu & Kashmir and evacuating civilians following the invasion by guerilla fighters from Pakistan’s North West Frontier Province (NWFP).

“Patnaik also tried to establish an airlink between India and Tibet, shortly before it was occupied by the Chinese in 1951. And, though unsuccessful, he was able to persuade the Indian government to provide arms and logistical support to Tibetan Khampa fighters waging terrorist attacks against the occupying Chinese,” notes the obituary published in The Independent. 

Following these efforts, however, he became a powerful figure in Odisha’s politics, becoming chief minister of the state for the first time in June 1961 at the age of 45. 

However, despite his towering frame (stood at 6 feet 2 inches) and charisma, Biju’s political career was largely mired in controversy, although he contributed to the state’s industrial development and its battle for greater fiscal autonomy from the Union government. He eventually passed on 17 April 1997 of cardio-respiratory failure, but not before leaving behind a remarkable legacy. 

Sources:

‘Obituary: Biju Patnaik’ by Kuldip Singh; Published on 01 May 1997 courtesy The Independent

‘Biju Patnaik: The flying ace who helped Indian and foreign freedom movements’ by Sampad Patnaik; Published on 6 March 2020 courtesy The Indian Express

‘Biju Patnaik: A Profile’ by Dr Pabak Kanungo; Published courtesy the Kalinga Foundation Trust

‘Biju Patnaik: Lord of the Skies’; Published on 02 July 2021 courtesy Live History India 

‘A room for an Indian hero at the Indonesian embassy’ by Suhasini Haidar; Published on 23 January 2021 courtesy The Hindu 

‘BJD to celebrate the birth anniversary of Biju Patnaik on March 5’; Published on 2 March 2022 courtesy Prameya News

‘Story of a pilot named Biju Patnaik who flew Indonesian PM, vice-president to India in 1947’ by Manisha Mondal; Published on 14 March 2020 courtesy The Print

(Edited by Divya Sethu; Images of Biju Patnaik courtesy Prameya News/Central Museum of Indonesian Air Force)

The answer to this can be found in these 12 stories, which are a testament to the valour of Indian queens, and how the absence of fear set them apart. 

Here’s why we celebrate them. 

1. Rani Abbakka Chowta

A 16th-century warrior, Rani Abbakka is known for her undying fight against the Portuguese, when they began colonising the areas in proximity to the Indian Ocean. Growing up, little Abbakka would hear about this. 

So when she was crowned Queen, she was committed to resisting the Portuguese. The latter was infuriated by her effrontery and waged war on the palace where she lived. 

The first of these attacks was in 1556 and continued over the next few decades. The queen, however, was not one to be thwarted and emerged victorious every time. However, fate had other plans, and in one such crossfire, she was wounded and captured by the enemy.  

2. Queen Ahilyabai Holkar

Born in the village of Chondi in Jamkhed, Ahmednagar, Ahilyabai often noticed how women’s education was not given much importance. Though she was homeschooled by her father, she always desired the welfare of others.

Anyone who has witnessed Ahilya’s rise to power said it was her tryst with destiny that made her queen. This is because, despite being married into a royal family and giving birth to a prince, she lost her husband, father-in-law, and son, all within a span of a few decades.  

So when she ascended the throne on 11 December 1767, she was committed to leading her people of Malwa to greatness. Through her reign, she fiercely protected the dynasty, refuting attacks and widening her troop base.  

3. Rani Tarabai Bhonsle

The daughter-in-law of Chhatrapati Shivaji, she was often known as ‘rainha dos Marathas’ or the ‘Queen of the Marathas’. Rightly so. 

Even though she took the reins of the Maratha kingdom in the year 1700 because circumstances deemed it necessary, she never slacked when it came to fighting for her people. 

Through her ruling years, she proved the mindset of the Mughals wrong. A woman could do anything. She constantly learnt from her enemies and her intelligent strategies helped the Maratha army establish their rule over Southern Karnataka.

4. Sethu Lakshmi Bayi

Her people viewed her as an advocate for women’s rights. She was so encouraging about women working and studying further that she had an incentive put into place. Girls who went to college could join her at her palace for tea.

Throughout her reign, she pushed for women to pursue further education, elevating them from local positions to government ones, thus ensuring that they had an equal say in government decisions. 

In 1927, she opened up the study of law to female students and even ordered the Women’s College in Trivandrum to start classes on history, natural science, languages and mathematics.

5. Rani Chennamma

When her husband and son were no more, Chennamma was faced with a tough choice. She would either have to adopt an heir to continue the dynasty, or lose it to the British. She chose the former. In 1824, she adopted a boy named Shivalingappa, but this infuriated the East India Company.

Not wanting her state Kittur to lose its status as a princely one, she challenged the British. They retaliated through an attack on 21 October 1824, armed with 20,000 men and 400 guns. Though she managed to tackle them once, she was unsuccessful in her second attempt, and was captured and imprisoned for life at Bailhongal Fort. 

6. Rani Durgavati

During her growing years in the royal family, Rani Durgavati would listen to stories of valour and pride. So, when she was required to ascend the throne, she felt prepared. 

With her army of 20,000 cavalrymen and 1,000 war elephants, she was a threat to many, but this backing made her fearless. So when she shifted her capital from Singorgarh Fort to Chauragarh in the east, she wasn’t deterred, despite knowing that Akbar’s army was eyeing the fort.  

During the battles waged by the Mughal army to capture the fort, Durgavati was pierced with two arrows. Instead of opting for a slow painful death, she plunged a knife into her stomach and took her own life. 

7. Naiki Devi

In 1173, the young Ghurid prince, Muhammad Shahabuddin Ghori, was busy infiltrating Indian territory and had his sights on the town of Anhilwara Patan. At the time, the affairs of the town were under Mularaja-II, who was just a boy. His mother Naiki Devi, was the queen regent.

When Ghori began his attacks, Naiki Devi knew her army was no match for him and decided to come up with a crafty plan. Her experience had taught her that in unfamiliar terrain even the experienced soldiers wouldn’t be able to continue the battle. 

Hence, she chose the rugged terrain of Gadaraghatta at the foot of Mount Abu, one her army was familiar with. 

True to her approach, hours into the battle, Ghori fled with his bodyguards. 

8. Rani Chennabhairadevi

Chennabhairadevi was one of the longest ruling Indian women and was known as Raina-Da-Pimenta, or ‘Pepper Queen’, by the Portuguese.

Through her long reign, she provided a safe place for those who sought refuge from Portuguese tyranny. Her land would welcome these people, providing them with everything they needed.  She also had the Chaturmukha Basadi, a Jain temple constructed in Karkala in 1562 along with the Mirjan Fort and saw to the overall welfare of the state.

9. Rani Avantibai of Ramgarh

When her husband King Vikramaditya Lodhi of Ramgarh fell ill, Avanti Bai rose to the occasion and took over the reins of Ramgarh’s administration. However, the British did not favour this and appointed their own administrator for the kingdom. 

The queen, furious, declared war against the British and raised an army of 4,000. She surprised everyone when she began using guerrilla warfare tactics to aid her fight. 

During one such battle in 1858, she had exhausted her defences and was on the verge of being captured by the troops. Instead she chose self-sacrifice and killed herself with her own sword.

10. Velu Nachiyar 

Following the martyrdom of her husband Muthuvaduganatha Peria Oodaya Thevar, the second king of Sivaganga in battle, Velu Nachiyar had a mission. She wanted to avenge his death. Hence, after escaping with her son following the tragic incident, she returned eight years later to launch an attack on the Nawab forces. 

What stands out in her story of valour is that it was also one of the first instances of suicide bombing in Indian history. Her army commander Kuyili offered to sacrifice herself for Velu’s mission, and she did. During an attack on the fort where the Nawabs were, Kuyili disguised herself with weapons hidden in flower baskets. 

The disaster caused by the infiltration allowed Velu to drive the Nawab army away from the kingdom. 

11. Harkha Bai

Harkha Bai was a standing example for women during her time. She set a precedent right from the day of her nuptials when she refused to convert to Islam, making her the first empress to do so. She was smart, independent and even conducted trade and earned a salary. 

She was also recognised for being one of the four senior members of Jahangir’s court, and the only woman in that tetrad. She refused to depend on her husband or son for financial support and this influenced other women in the court. 

She went down in history for a story associated with one of her prized possessions — ‘Rahimi’, which was the largest Indian ship in the seas. History tells of this ship being the reason for the Portuguese leaving India.  

12. Razia Sultan

Another epitome of how women should stand up for what they believe in, Razia refused to be addressed as ‘Sultana.’ This was because she felt the term was a reference to her gender.  

As the fifth Mamluk dynasty ruler, she was no stranger to battle. She even took charge of the administration of the dynasty and associated with the best Sultans of Delhi. She believed not just in ruling, but also the welfare of the land, and established schools, academies, research centres, and public libraries. 

However, Malik Ikhtiar-ud-din Altunia, then governor of Bhatinda, was not in favour of all this and conspired to have Razia be dethroned. 

The plan succeeded, and in the attempt of reclaiming the throne, this first and last woman Sultan of Delhi died at the young age of 35.

The film highlights the arc of emotions that Lakshmi (a Dalit woman living in rural Andhra Pradesh and essayed by Shabana Azmi) goes through as she begins working for an upper-caste zamindar’s son Surya, who does not delve too much into the caste difference. The movie brings to the front issues of patriarchy, caste, class and gender in a tale that is both beautiful and sad. 

Over the decades, Indian cinema has touched upon the pervasive caste system in India through many films — some deemed controversial yet milestones, like The Bandit Queen; some that resonated with wider audiences like Article 15 and Jai Bhim; and some that used humour to comment on the gravity of caste discrimination, like Chameli ki Shaadi. 

Among the films that set the precedent for these movies was the seemingly obscure production Kahi Debe Sandesh, a Chhattisgarhi film released in 1965, which became among the first in India to openly discuss evils like untouchability and caste discrimination.

In a 2018 interview with filmmaker and documentary photographer Aayush Chandrawanshi, the director of the film Many Nayak recalled, “I was very determined to make a film in the Chhattisgarhi dialect and to name it Kahi Debe Sandes. I had a theme in my mind which was inspired by my childhood experiences.” 

What made Nayak’s film so remarkable was its willingness to take on the matter of inter-caste marriages — something that is still discouraged and frowned upon in many parts of the country. In many ways, it was among the first artistic pieces of work to open conversation about topics we still skirt around today. 

A film ahead of its time 

Meanwhile, in the early 1960s, the Indian film industry was dominated by Hindi-language movies, thus providing little to no opportunity for regional script movies. This spell ended in 1963 with Kundan Kumar’s Bhojpuri film Ganga Maiya Tohe Piyari Chadhaibo, a poignant film on widow remarriage. In Madhya Pradesh, a young film enthusiast Manu Nayak was so influenced by this that it compelled him to make a Chhattisgarhi film on a subject that he was passionate about. 

Directed by Nayak and released in 1965, Kahi Debe Sandesh was the talk of the town for more reasons than one. Not only was the film’s plot considered controversial, but it was also the first film in the Chhattisgarhi language at a time when the film industry was dominated by Hindi films. It must also be remembered that this event was much before Chhattisgarh came into existence as a state in 2000. 

The film detailed the love story of Nayandas and Rupa, a boy from a scheduled caste and a Brahmin girl respectively. The storyline faced the ire of conservatives and leaders across the nation, notably from the Brahmin community in Raipur. Nayak recalled, “All of a sudden there was a controversy, where a section of the Brahmin community accused the film, saying that it disrespects their community. They protested the release of the film in Raipur….” 

As these groups forced posters of the movie to be taken down, many prominent voices spoke up against this. One of them was former prime minister Indira Gandhi. Nayak later recalled in an interview to The Times of India that help came from two “progressive” politicians. “I was told Indira Gandhi (then I&B Minister) also saw portions of the film and said the film promotes national integration. The protests died down after that.” 

The crew powered through the backlash and managed to have the film premiere in April 1965. Ironically, the hullabaloo that the film created drew more attention with people flocking to cinema screens to catch it. It opened the windows for society to take cognisance of the evils of the caste system. 

In fact, the film also served as the launchpad for Chhollywood (as the film industry of Chhattisgarh is popularly known) and was screened in Raipur in 2015 at a film festival to mark the jubilee of this event. For Nayak, this event held tremendous significance. 

Behind the scenes 

While Kahi Debe Sandesh blew up the film industry with conversation about films centric on social issues, Nayak had never in the slightest imagined it would have this effect. In 1957 a teen Nayak had run away from his hometown Raipur to Bombay with a dream to work in films. His interest in cinema came from his growing years of browsing through film magazines at local stands, a task he said kept him up to date with the world of movies. 

As fate would have it, he landed a job with Anupam Chitra, a film production house that was co-owned by director Mahesh Kaul and writer Pandit Mukhram Sharma. 

It was here that he learnt to copy dialogues in Hindi, while learning the fineries of script writing from the maestros. With a salary of Rs 60 per month and unparalleled satisfaction, Nayak dreamt of making a movie someday. 

Chandrawanshi wrote that Nayak’s motive behind making this film was as follows — “Kahi Debe Sandes (1965) is a commentary on social issues such as Untouchability and Caste discrimination. I had seen it happening even in my own house. Whenever my friends from the lower castes (Satnami caste) used to come to my home, my mother used to not say anything but soon after they had left she used to clean the entrance of the house. This and a few other instances deeply affected me and I realised that until caste discrimination is addressed properly to the masses, society would not progress.”

And so intent on these issues seeing the light of day, Nayak began his quest of casting. 

Following a song recorded with legend Mohammed Rafi — Jhamkat nadiya bahini laage — a quick casting of theatre actors who were willing, and a record 22-day packed shoot schedule, Kahi Debe Sandesh was ready to roll. 

As Nayak says in an interview with The Times of India, “I spent the next two years paying off my debts. But I had the satisfaction of making the first Chhattisgarhi film.” 

Today, the film continues to stand by its legacy of being among the first to shed light on caste discrimination. 

Indian cinema has come a long way in terms of the narratives highlighted in caste movies, as Sanjiv Jaiswal, director of Shudra (2012) emphasised in an interview with Outlook India. “When we dare to make films like these [Shudra], we are able to put the spotlight on the discriminated communities. There is a marked shift in how these movies are made today. The storylines give the communities depicted greater agency and power over the story. This is a big change from the past, when either their entire existence would be ignored, or portrayed in poor light, causing more harm than good for these sections.”

Edited by Divya Sethu

Sources 

How The First Chhattisgarhi Film Tackled Casteism In The 1960s by Disha Bijolia, Published on 20 March 2023.

Medium and the Message by Caravan Magazine, Published on 2 December 2022. 

When Indira saved first Chhattisgarhi film from ban by Avijit Ghosh, Published on 30 April 2015. 

Ayush Chandrawanshi’s photobook

The science graduate’s work in tackling the disease, while celebrated by the scientific community, was not awarded the Nobel prize. But this did not deter him from furthering his quest to educate people about the parasite-transmitted disease, and the precautions they must take to avoid contracting it.

Two great minds bond over an idea

Born in Kolkata in 1877 to a family of educators, Bandyopadhyay was an avid learner. Keen to explore the world of science with its many mysteries, he opted for a graduation in science at the Presidency College and emerged with flying colours in 1898.

Bandyopadhyay was hungry to pursue scientific research that had the potential to help his nation and began looking for opportunities. This was around the same time that Sir Ronald Ross — a British medical doctor who later received the Nobel Prize in 1902 for his work on the transmission of malaria — was in Kolkata.

Following years of medical studies in London, Ross joined the Indian Medical Service in 1881 on the advice of his father, a General in the Indian Army. It was in 1892 during his various engagements with doctors and people from the medical community that Ross displayed an interest in malaria — specifically its mode of transmission from parasites to humans.

Greatly influenced by Patrick Manson, the founder of tropical medicine, Ross began to explore this new arena of interest, marvelling at how a parasite could cause human disease by infecting a mosquito. Armed with this awe-evoking information Ross began his work on proving that malaria was connected to mosquitoes in 1895.

While on the lookout for an able assistant, he came across the keen Bandyopadhyay who was looking for work as a lab assistant. In 1898, the two bonded over this passion project, and soon, it was a done deal.

Bandyopadhyay would assist Ross.

The years spanning between 1898 and 1902 were brimming with research ideas that the two men of science had. While Ross would get excited over new developments in their quest to prove the relationship between mosquitoes and malaria, Bandyopadhyay made maximum use of his abilities in regional languages.

The study necessitated testing the blood of malaria patients, observation and dissections of the female Anopheles mosquito, etc, and Bandyopadhyay would put his skills to the test. He would regularly visit the neighbouring villages of Kolkata and Madras in search of patients with malaria and bring them back to Ross’ lab. Here, the latter would collect blood samples from these people.

These real-time experiments proved to be a boost for Ross’ research. And by 1899, he had not only discovered the role of the female Anopheles mosquito as a vector in the transmission of malaria to humans but also stumbled upon the transmission cycle of the disease in birds.

A missing acknowledgement 

Meanwhile, Bandopadhyay’s work with malaria did not stop at the lab.

He would propagate the use of mosquito nets in the surrounding villages so as to caution people about the condition and prevent them from contracting it. He would frequently conduct social campaigns in the villages. And along with his photo artist friend, Lakshminarayan Roychowdhury’s help, he would make public slide shows to educate the villagers about spotting the difference between different mosquitoes so as to identify the female anopheles.

The year 1902 saw a proud moment for medicine as Ronald Ross was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physiology “for his work on malaria, by which he has shown how it enters the organism and thereby has laid the foundation for successful research on this disease and methods of combating it”.

But while the scientific community cheered the efforts of Ross, one man remained forgotten. Bandyopadhyay’s hard work remained unrecognised.

This did not sit well with many notable names of the time, who went on to raise their concerns about this. Among them were Indian physician Upendranath Brahmachari, writer and polymath Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose, philosopher Brajendra Nath Seal, social reformer Sivanath Sastri, political figure Surendranath Banerjee, and historian Acharya Prafulla Chandra Ray.

They requested the then Viceroy of India Lord Curzon that Bandyopadhyay be awarded for his efforts, and the Viceroy obliged. In 1903, Bandyopadhyay was awarded King Edward VII’s Gold Medal and felicitated at the University Senate Hall.

In 1918, when a malaria epidemic struck the country, Dr Gopal Chandra Chattopadhyay started a public health movement to control the spread, and Bandyopadhyay joined him.

They began educating the villagers about sanitisation and good hygienic practices. The Anti-Malaria Cooperative Society was founded for the first time at the village level in India at Panihati on 24 March 1918. Bandopadhyay was the secretary and was at the helm of activities that encouraged cleaning ponds and drains in the village, clearing the garbage that choked the lakes and distributing mosquito nets. This compelled other villages to start similar associations to curb the spread of malaria.

Notable author Amitav Ghosh’s book ‘The Calcutta Chromosome’ details bits of Ross’s journey while shedding light on his research phase. The book is said to question the boundaries that have been erected to distinguish truth from fiction and also points to how Bandopadhyay’s knowledge played a role in Ross’s success.

Following the disappointment at not finding mention in Ross’s work, Bandopadhyay went on to start The Panihati Cooperative Bank in 1927, two years after which he passed away. Today, as there have been several strides in the prevention and cure of malaria, we remain indebted to Kishori Mohan Bandyopadhyay for his tremendous contribution.

Sources:

Ross and the Discovery that Mosquitoes Transmit Malaria Parasites, Published on 16 September 2015. 

Why Ronald Ross’ Bengali partner Kishori Mohan not get Nobel Prize? by Get Bengal, Published on 28 November 2019. 

Kishori Mohan Bandyopadhyay by People Pill.

This move would go on to influence Calcutta’s local culture in numerous ways. For one, Wajid Ali introduced sports like kite-flying and cock-fighting, as well as poetry in the region. Among these notable contributions was food, namely, biryani. So what has been embraced today as Kolkata biryani in fact has its roots in Lucknow, the city of nawabs. 

As Manzilat Fatima, the great-great-granddaughter of the king, tells The Better India, “You have the characteristic of Awadh biryani in the Kolkata one. They are like cousins of one family.” 

For the last five years, the 55-year-old has run Manzilat’s, a home diner to keep the legacy of royal delicacies alive. We sat down with her to understand the history and relevance of the food brought to the city by the nawab.

Royal cousins

Wajid Ali Shah was a patron of art, music, poetry, drama, and gastronomy – the art of cooking and relishing good food. “Although he was not a Badshah (emperor) anymore, Wajid Ali Shah was born a nawab. His love for gastronomy shaped the Lucknowi biryani after he came to Kolkata. With the introduction of potatoes, it became what we today relish as Kolkata biryani,” says the 55-year-old.

During that time, potatoes were considered a nayab (exotic) delicacy. Although common people could not afford them, the vegetable was introduced in the royal kitchens. “Since it has the capacity to absorb all aromas of spices, it enhances the flavours when it’s added to the dish. It was readily accepted by the King and the people. After his death, when his mulazims (workers) were jobless, they went to cities and this biryani was spread in Kolkata city and became popular,” says Manzilat.

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She explains what sets the Awadhi and Kolkata biryani apart from the rest. “Since nawabs were of nazuk mizaz (delicate nature), spicy food did not suit their palate. This makes the Awadhi food delicate and light, as well as extremely flavourful and aromatic, compared to Hyderabadi, Muradabadi, and southern biryanis. Others use a lot of spices and ghee. We feel full even after eating one or two lukma (mouthfuls). There is a class in Awadh food!” she says with pride.

Speaking about the unique species and cooking methods she uses to cook Kolkata biryani, Manzilat says, “First I prepare korma, which I add as a layer in the utensil. After this, I add a layer of boiled potatoes savoured with ghee, salt, and spices. Lastly, I add a layer of boiled rice and add the flavouring of ghee and saffron. When you cook in logs and matkas (clay utensils), it gives a smoky flavour.”

“I cook biryani with regular spices like kebab chini, nutmeg, shah jeera, mace, cardamom, and clove. In some Awadhi delicacies, I use specialised Awadhi spices and herbs like paan ki jad, khas ki jad, patthar ke phool (herbs). They are more aromatic. The only secret I have is the proportion of spices to be used, it makes a lot of difference,” she smiles.

Other than the biryanis, Manzilat’s menu offers a wide range of delicacies including Lakhnawai Mutton Yakhni Pulao, Chicken Nawabi Chaanp, Ulta Tawa Paratha, Fish Chatpata Handi Kabab, Chicken Lazeez Shami Kabab, and Shahi Badam Firni.

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Learnt cooking through letters

Manzilat recalls that when she started cooking at the age of 10, she was not interested at first.

“I was living with my father in Aligarh. At that time, ordering food from outside was not as relevant as it is today. So I had to cook along with a helper and would serve kacha pakka (half-cooked) food to my father. Sometimes, there would be more water in khichadi and sometimes rice would be half-cooked. I would fail to make a perfect meal,” she laughs.

Often, her mother would come to her rescue. “She used to write letters to us from Kolkata. In those letters, she would write a recipe and cooking method for me in Urdu. During vacations when we would be home, I used to learn from her. The first thing I learnt from her was shami kabab. My father relished it,” she recalls.

After getting married, Manzilat settled in Kolkata. She loved to host guests of her husband and friends of her children. Through cooking over the years, she developed an immense interest in food. “But I never knew that I would build a career in it,” she smiles.

In a bid to keep the legacy of royal delicacies alive, she set up Manzilat’s home diner in Kasba of Kolkata in 2018. “All the nawabs were very fond of food and Awadhi cuisine is very popular but not so popular outside Lucknow. People even in Lucknow and Metiabruz do not know the history associated with the food. I wanted to contribute towards carrying the legacy of my family before the world forgets our lineage and the relevance of food,” she says.

Manzilat manages her home diner with the help of four workers and caters to foodies from across the world, including Japan, China, Abu Dhabi, Toronto, New Jersey, and Singapore.

“My mission is not to earn from a commercial set up, but to spread awareness on the history of Awadh, its last King Wajid Ali Shah, freedom fighter Begum Hazrat Mahal, and our family history. For this, I get immense love, honour, and respect, which is priceless. That is my real earning,” she says.

Edited by Divya Sethu

“I was always intrigued by stories that come alive when they are related to historical objects,” says Deepthi, now in her forties. “When you step into a museum, things become special only once you know the story behind them.”

With a Master’s in Museum Study under her belt, Deepthi was in New York on a scholarship when she felt a burning desire to do something more. In retrospect, she says that was precisely the moment Eka Archiving Services —  an initiative that works across museums, archives and art spaces to provide them with strategy consulting and design —  was conceived. It was formally launched in 2009. 

Over its 14-year lifespan the collective has undertaken 90 projects, published books, assessed collectables that have come down through generations, worked with historical collections, and even conducted project communication drives for corporates. 

Alongside has been evolving Deepthi’s love affair with pieces of history that have a story behind them. Here, we take a look at some rare fascinating and thought-provoking stories and pictures that she has come across during her work. 

1. The Jezail ammunition 

The Jezail guns in the picture were famous as long barrel muzzle-loading muskets. These handmade devices were cost-efficient and surprisingly had a greater range than their counterparts owing to their heavy weight and long barrels. They were a common sight among people of the Middle East and Afghans in the 19th century. 

Deepthi notes that these were “elaborately decorated” and recognisable for their unique shape. “The unique curve of the stock was either used for balance and one arm firing atop a camel or for balancing the weight and useful for tucking the forearm of the shooter.”

The weapons were popular in the region of Khanate of Kalat, which historically corresponds to the modern-day Balochistan province of Pakistan. “Once Mughal subjects, these fierce leaders and their tribes were descendants of the ethnic pastoralists of the region called Brahuis, after the language they spoke. The men typically wore their hair long,” she writes. 

2. Amrita Sher–Gil and Indira–Sher Gil  

As Deepthi points out, one of the learnings that she has acquired through her tryst with museums is that tiny bits of sartorial history that survive in the cracks of our society are incredible.

For instance, the strides in photography made by the Lumiere Brothers. It is a well-known fact that the autochrome technique — a colour photography process popular in the 19th century — was patented by the Lumiere brothers. It created an appeal among the people for its ability to produce coloured pictures.  

It was during her research that Deepthi came across a fact that continues to surprise her till date. “The autochrome plates had millions of tiny granules of potato starch coloured in the primary colours of red, blue and green!” she exclaims.  

The photograph here depicts this form of photography and features sisters Amrita Sher–Gil and Indira Sher–Gil. In fact, it was their father Umrao Singh Sher Gil, a Sikh aristocrat, who shot it. It was only in the early 2000s that this picture made its way to the world as part of a project ‘Re-take of Amrita’ by artist Vivan Sundaram (Indira’s son).

3. Ramaswamy Naidu 

Credited for introducing European techniques in fashion and dressing in 19th-century Travancore and adapting them for indigenous skin tones, Naidu was a popular name. One of his most famous works is the ‘Three Nayar Girls of Travancore’ where he portrays wealthy young girls from the Nair class immersed in learning. 

“The girl in the centre holds a metal stylus, firmly imprinting letters of the script onto a palm leaf. Her companion looks over her shoulder, an arm draped casually hanging onto another manuscript, loose leaves resting on the white of her mundu,” notes Deepthi. “The third girl clutches a necklace, the kasumalai, the ubiquitous coin necklace. In Travancore, as in Kerala today, this necklace strung together with gold sovereigns is a must in a bridal trousseau.”

She adds that what makes the painting a draw is that the scholarly pursuit by the girls is juxtaposed with the lavish extravagance of Kerala jewellery and costume. 

4. Lady Charlotte Canning

As the wife of the first Governor General of post-1857 India and close confidante of Queen Victoria, Lady Charlotte donned many hats. “She witnessed the transformation of India to a formal colony, was a champion of early photography, a watercolour painter and a diligent diarist,” says Deepthi. She was also the first First Lady to live at the new Government House in Calcutta. 

While a tragic campfire in 1859 destroyed her diaries in which she had chronicled her adventures, the salvaged and rescued singed pages have been meticulously stabilised by conservators. These were made available in 2019 which was when Deepthi got access to them.  

5. The quintessential gharara

Through her work as an archivist, Deepthi frequently comes across pictures that stay with her, simply for the kind of significance they hold today. In this particular favourite, a woman can be seen wearing a gharara (a traditional outfit comprising a kurti, dupatta, and wide-legged pants).

“The quintessential garment would be worn by the wealthy women of Awadh, royals, courtesans, and brides. Handworked and made in silk or velvet, the wide sweeping lower garment would trail on the floor. Its unique cut enabled many many metres of fabric necessary for women to elegantly sweep it up in neat folds and walk or pose with it.”

6. Indira Gandhi’s love for dance 

In this rare picture that Deepthi came across, former PM Indira Gandhi can be seen making the most of the moment. Having learnt dance in Guru Rabindranath Tagore’s Shantiniketan, she took a fond liking to Manipuri dance for its gentle and graceful movements. 

“And this love for dance she held close throughout her tempestuous life- as a leader, as a family person and as a dance patron,” says Deepthi. In fact, she inaugurated the National Centre for Performing Arts in 1969. 

In his book, ‘Mahroks: The Story of the Kambojas, Sikhs and Shaheeds’, author Jewan Deepak writes, “Indira Priyadarshini Nehru was in awe of these young men from Punjab [the Deepak Brothers who popularised Bhangra on stage]. She would come to their tents, where they were staying, and spend time talking and watching them practise Bhangra movements before the final day’s performance.”

7. Machhukatha Rabari shawl 

The Rabaris are an indigenous tribal caste often hailed as ‘camel and cattle herders’. Spread across Gujarat and Rajasthan, the clan prides themselves on the animals they rear and their crafts which are done with great attention to detail. 

The Machhukatha Rabari shawl is a testament to this. Crafted in wool on hand looms, the shawl is a masterpiece made for weddings, says Deepthi. “The wool is sourced from sheep and spun by the women, it is then dyed a dark colour, and woven on a narrow-width loom. Here two long pieces are joined vertically, and the joint is covered with beautiful, colourful embroidery.”

The motifs across the shawl depict women churning buttermilk, designs celebrating fertility and life and many other cultural traditions of the Rabari clans.

Edited by Divya Sethu

It’s a simple way to elevate even the most mundane dishes, and is a beloved snack not only across India, but also around the world, including Singapore, USA, China and the UK.

The lip-smacking sev is adored for its flavoursome taste and aroma, and although several regions have come up with their own concoction of spices to be added to it, it is primarily prepared with split Bengal gram (chickpea) flour, cloves, and peppers. It’s no surprise that at most namkeen shops, you’ll find queues of hungry admirers awaiting their turn to receive the hot, light-golden brown fried snack in the typical paper packet. 

In 2015, this snack gained the coveted Geographical Indication (GI) Tag. Today, we dive into its history, and just what makes this centuries-old snack so special.

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A few hungry men

Ratlami Sev originated in the eponymous Ratlam, a small town in Madhya Pradesh’s Malwa region, which was formerly a princely kingdom with a rich culture. Formerly known as Ratnapuri, Ratlam was created by Raja Ratan Singh Rathore — the great-grandson of Raja Udai Singh of Jodhpur — in 1652. Ratram, named after Raj Ratan Singh and his first son Ram Singh, became their capital, and was eventually transliterated to Ratlam.

Meanwhile, the origin of Ratlami Sev dates back to the late 19th century, when the Mughal emperors were on a tour of the Malwa region of the state. During an unscheduled halt, they suddenly felt the craving to consume sevaiyan.

The creamy pudding dessert consumed during Eid is primarily made with wheat, a crop that was unavailable in the royal camp of Ratlam during the period. Desperate to satiate the craving, the Mughals requested the local tribal community of Bhil to make sevaiyan with the locally available gram flour.

And voila! This is what led to the first recipe of Ratlami sev. Originally, the name given to the vermicelli was Bhildi Sev, after the name of the Bhil tribe, who are credited as the snack’s original creators.

Why it’s unique

In the 1900s, local people of the region started commercially manufacturing Ratlami sev. The Sakhlecha family of Ratlam was one of the first commercial manufacturers of the sev. In the early 1900s, the first shop was set up by the Late Shantilal Sakhlecha with his father Late Kesarmal Sakhlecha. Today, several snack companies manufacture the snack in Gujarat and Indore of Madhya Pradesh.

The sev was awarded the Geographical Indication Tag (GI) in 2014-15. As per the application filed for the GI indicator, the applicants — Ratlam Sev Evam Namkeen Mandal — said that “the production of the Ratlami sev had been going on for at least 200 years at the household level, but from the first decade of the last century, it has been commercially produced and marketed.”

Though an intrinsic part of the Bhil tribe’s history, the snack today has many contenders staking their claim to its manufacturing. A long-standing legal battle threatens to evict members of the community at the hands of large namkeen manufacturers, even as the former’s ancestors are the original creators of the dish. 

Ratlam’s significance in the origin of this dish is not only due to their connected history, but also due to several unique factors like the water, climate, and soil here, which many local bastions of the dish say lend to its crispy, savoury flavour and texture.

How it’s made

Ratlami Sev is produced in a wide variety of flavours including garlic, black pepper, mint, spinach, and even pineapple. But the main ingredients used to prepare sev comprises gram flour, clove, black pepper, asafoetida, brown chilly, cumin seed, raw salt and ground nut oil. 

Here’s a quick recipe by chef Sanjeev Kapoor:

Ingredients

Gram flour – 3 cups

Clove powder – 2 teaspoons

Garam masala powder – 1/2 teaspoon

Carom seeds – 1/2 teaspoon

Salt as per taste

Hot oil – 4 tablespoons

Oil – 2 tablespoons to deep fry

Method

Step 1: Take gram flour in a bowl and add clove powder, garam masala powder, carom seeds, salt and hot oil to it. Add sufficient water to knead the flour into a soft dough. Add two tablespoons of oil and knead again.

Step 2: Heat sufficient oil in a kadai.

Step 3: Grease a chakli press fitted with sev stencil with oil, put a portion of the dough in it. Screw on the lid and press the sev directly into hot oil. Deep-fry it till it becomes light golden and crisp. Drain the sev on absorbent paper and set aside to cool.

Step 4: Transfer sev into a serving plate, crush and serve.

Edited by Divya Sethu

Sources:

From Bean to Bombay Mix: Published by Priya Mani in 2022.

Geographical Indications Journal No. 63: By Government of India published in 2014.

Tribals Invented Sev 200 Years Ago. Now, Sev Makers Are Evicting Them: Published by Nihar Gokhale for Indiaspend on 1 April 2019.

How to make Ratlami Sev: Recipe by Sanjeev Kapoor.

The Irani cafes of India — particularly those in Mumbai — have held a fascinating allure since their inception in the late 19th century. While the antique vintage setting and old-world charm are one of the reasons these cafes are popular, another is the fare of delicacies they put out for anyone who visits.

No one leaves an Irani cafe without pampering their taste buds with the perfectly prepared kheema pao (a dish of mutton mince slowly cooked with spices) or guzzling down bottles of the iconic raspberry soda.

Whilst guests at the local Irani cafe enjoy these treats, we take you back to the spot where our story started — the port of Bushire in Iran.

Often hailed as one of the busiest, the port was an epicentre of trade between the then Bombay and the Persian Gulf. In the 19th century, this grew, and along with an influx of goods, wealthy Persian merchants too began flocking to Mumbai, eventually settling here.

Through time, Mumbai assumed the status of being home to a small Iranian Shia merchant community — who not only introduced the city to their carpets, infrastructure, and mosques but also to their eponymous food and cultural know-how.

While the stories of how Irani cafes were born are numerous, the most popular rendition is of how the Parsis would sit and talk about their lives over cups of tea sweetened with condensed milk in the evenings. Gradually an idea to turn this into a business took shape and voila! The rise of the Irani cafes had just begun.

Here are some of them you’ve heard of, been to and loved, and some others for you to try:

1. Sassanian Boulangerie, Marine Lines

While reviews suggest that everything you can see through the glass-paned shelves is delicious, the mava cakes are “to die for”. While it is evident that their bakes have a fan following, even their savoury dishes are in tow.

Enjoy their chicken rolls and mutton cutlets while you recline on their bentwood chairs for an absolutely delightful breakfast or lunch. Started in 1913 by Rustom Yazdabadi, the cafe has maintained its pre-Independence style.

2. Yazdani, Fort

Stories suggest that Yazdani Bakery is housed in a building that was commissioned as a Japanese bank in the 20th century. When a gentleman Zend Merwan Abadan came to the city, he set up the bakery.

Even in those days, anyone walking past the bakery would stop for a moment, drawn to the delicious aromas of the baking bread. The family would knead the dough with khamir (a type of yeast ferment) through the sourdough process, which would render it a peculiar taste. To date, the dishes at Yazdani have an ardent group of people who enjoy the taste.

3. Ideal Corner, Fort

“We serve Bombay’s favourite delicious Parsi food” reads the bio on their Instagram page. And guests who have dined here absolutely agree. The Ideal Corner Cafe at Fort is an ‘ideal’ place for office goers to lunch on a platter of Parsi fare. But it isn’t just their dishes that are famous. 

The place regularly hosts workshops wherein guests can get insights into how the Zoroastrian culture started in Mumbai. If you are planning a visit, guests recommend trying the lagan nu custard.

4. Koolar & Co, Dadar

There is an interesting history to the area where this Irani cafe resides. The Dadar Parsi Colony of Mumbai was founded by a gentleman Mancherji Joshi around 1899. As one of the first planned housing schemes in the city, the colony housed numerous Parsis, and has often been claimed as one of the ‘most peaceful residential areas’.

It comes as no surprise that the cafe is legendary for its food and service. In fact, you may also witness a film shoot whilst you are there. The cafe has been featured in movies like ‘Vaastav’, ‘Gully Boy’ and ‘The Lunchbox’.

5. Jimmy Boy, Fort

History and a family legacy are hidden in every bite at the Jimmy Boy restaurant in the Fort area of Mumbai. While the family had been serving keema pav, bun maska, Irani chai, omelette pav, mava cake, and mava samosa since 1925, a rebranding took place in 1999. The restaurant added other Parsi favourites such as wedding delicacies to the menu.

As they maintain, “The recipes have remained unchanged since the beginning. Every Parsi family has its own closely guarded secret recipes for their version of the dish, and we are true to ours!”

6. Cafe Excelsior, Fort

There is a certain magic to Irani cafes. The panelled walls, the slow rotating fans, meeting a frequent visitor who will treat you to stories of the place’s history and more. Cafe Excelsior is one place where this magic is still alive.

The 100-year-old cafe still boasts of its clock, which came down from colonial times when the late Ardeshir Mazkoori opened Cafe Excelsior in 1919 when he came to India from Iran. Since then, the family has been crafting finesse with their patra ni macchi, mutton cutlets, and kheema salli.

7. Britannia & Co, Fort

Anyone fortunate to visit the restaurant — housed inside a colonial bungalow — in its early days in 1923 was always in for a treat. Rashid Kohinoor, a Zoroastrian immigrant and founder of the restaurant, would narrate tales of old Bombay while guests would gorge on his daughter-in-law’s berry pulao that she had perfected for the Indian palate.

The cafe has welcomed many iconic personalities, such as Abhishek Bachchan, Boman Irani, Vidya Balan, Ranbir Kapoor, former cricketer Azharuddin, and American ambassador Peter Berlin.

8. Kyani & Co, Marine Lines

A list of the Irani restaurants in Mumbai would be incomplete without mentioning the iconic Kyani & Co in Marine Lines. With its sepia-toned pictures lining the walls, and large jars carrying biscuits and goodies; piling up to the ceiling — the cafe has always been synonymous with having a personal touch.

It was built in 1904 by a gentleman Khodram Marezban and was taken over in late 1959 by Aflatoon Shokri, whose family has been managing the cafe since then. If you are planning what to order, the keema gotala, chicken cheese burji, and chicken Irani kebabs are some of the hit items.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

In the February of 1951, a Swiss architect set foot on Indian soil.

In decades to come, Charles-Edouard Jeanneret Gris, or as he was popularly known then, Le Corbusier, would be known as the man who revolutionised the country’s take on urban planning and design. Hailed as the ‘Town Planner of Chandigarh’, Le Corbusier was invited by then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, who entrusted him with this mighty task.

It was shortly after India had freed itself from the clutches of the British, and there was a need to bring order into the cacophony resulting from the Partition, which had left a mark not just in the lives of people but also in geographic terms.

There was a need for a city, the capital of Punjab. And Le Corbusier was chosen to be the one to make this happen.

Records of the architect’s diary suggest his excitement about this new project. “It is the hour that I have been waiting for — India, that human and profound civilisation — to construct a capital. Urbanism is the activity of society. Capital is the spirit of a nation.”

Chandigarh is born

The master architect’s design of the city has gone down in history as one that was nothing short of exceptional. He brought in contrasting ideas in architecture — concrete buildings against the landscape of previously prevalent gothic design — and rectilinear buildings that were reflective of minimalism. He kept in mind the climate of the new city, introducing Western concepts of sunshades and overhanging roofs to shield people from the heat.

High ceilings, domes, well-ventilated spaces and more were the highlights of his design. Among the most significant buildings that he designed in the city were the government offices and the Capitol Complex, comprising the Legislative Assembly, Secretariat and High Court.

But Le Corbusier was not alone in his quest to create a city that would be remembered. He was joined by an exceptional team of architects who worked under him to devise new designs, modern concepts, intricately planned layouts, and even the decor that would go into the newly constructed buildings.

A few from his team included Maxwell Fry, Jane Drew, and Indian architects Aditya Prakash — credited with designing the famous Neelam Theatre and the Chandigarh School of Art, Urmila Eulie Chowdhury — who was the chief architect for educational institutes and residences, Balkrishna Doshi, and Le Corbusier’s cousin Pierre Jeanneret, whom he had convinced to join in on the project.

And that is where the story of the Chandigarh chairs begins.

Made for government employees then, a symbol of luxury now

As more and more offices were brought up in the city, they needed to be filled with furnishings; at least the basic ones to begin with, such as tables and chairs. And so Pierre, who was handling the residential designs came up with a simple teak and cane idea that stuck to its ideals of being minimalistic while also serving its purpose — people could sit on these.

The chair was curiously and yet simply shaped with its legs in a V formation, polished with a natural finish, and was visible everywhere!

Right from middle-class homes to the most exclusive offices. For the residents of Chandigarh, these were a part of their daily lives, and they hadn’t the slightest clue that in a few years, these chairs would become a part of heritage heirloom, fetching dollars when sold.

But for the time being, the Chandigarh chairs were objects of demand in the local city. Workshops were being set up across the city to mass manufacture the furniture. Meanwhile, Le Corbusier and Pierre had completed what they set out to do with respect to the planning of Chandigarh and they left the country around 1965.

The legacy that they left behind was intangible. But in time, new brands and companies began emerging with their innovative designs, flashy colours and enticing creations, and the humble Chandigarh chairs were being replaced. In the 90s, these chairs were being dumped and left out in the harsh weather which rendered them unfit for use.

While it seemed like their fate had been sealed, things took a turn when international dealers and auctioneers noticed these chairs and were drawn to them.

Eric Touchaleaume of Galerie 54, François Laffanour, Philippe Jousse, and Patrick Seguin among others began sourcing these chairs from where they were being discarded and collecting them. In an article for Architectural Digest, Laffanour is quoted saying, “We said, let’s take the risk of buying these, and we’ll see what happens.”

Today, the chairs are a draw in some of the most elite rooms in the world including that of Kim Kardashian. “Some of my favourite furniture is these Jeanneret chairs and couches,” she was quoted saying in a post referring to the 12 Jeanneret teak conference chairs in her dining room and two more in her home office — each worth anywhere from $6,000 to $10,000 according to an article in Elle.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

Sources:

How Le Corbusier changed the history of architecture in India by Neha Jaiswal. 

The Indian Architects Behind Le Corbusier’s Seminal Work In Chandigarh by Something Curated, Published on 19 April 2022. 

How a Chair Designed for Government Workers Landed in a Kardashian‘s Dining Room by Hannah Martin, Published on 13 January 2017.

Delhi-born Karam Puri, who has lived here since 2019, affirms this. In fact, even his childhood has roots here. “My family has a long legacy at the Doon School in Dehradun; I, too, attended this boarding school. We’ve grown up in the area. It’s a beautiful part of the country.”

The Puri family have not only made this quaint, storybook town their home, but have also built an alluring homestay for travellers looking to escape into another world. The Fern Cottage, as they have christened the place, welcomes guests from across the country and the rest of the world. 

Karam recounts that his father Ratindra Puri had a dream of retiring to these peaceful hills, a place where he had spent his growing up years. 

Landing on the perfect cottage 

Karam says that coming across the house, which is now called Fern Oaks Estate, was all about fate and timing. The 46-year-old, who is a photographer, writer, entrepreneur and trekker, moved to India from New York in 2008, where he was studying photography. He says the town of Landour has always been like home for them. 

So when his father retired in 2015, he was intent on purchasing land in these hills. The long search ended in 2018, when Karam’s parents came across this heavenly piece of land that belonged to one Saroj Kapadia, a teacher at the Woodstock School. The home, he says, held great allure not just because of its location and aesthetic, but also the history that surrounded it.

The Victorian-style property, spread across an acre and a half, was built in 1924 and was home to the famous ornithologist Robert Fleming. In 1970, it was purchased by the Kapadia family, who put it up for sale in 2018. “We jumped at the opportunity to buy it,” exclaims Karam. 

Owning a home in this part of Mussoorie isn’t something ordinary. Landour is an ‘exclusive’ town with only 52 homes in it, all of which were built between the 1800s and 1924. So the Puri family was ecstatic to be the proud owners of the Fern Oaks Estate, a space they envisioned to be their dream home. 

Karam’s parents, Ratindra and Preeti, soon began work revamping the home’s interiors while preserving the British style aesthetic.

‘It required hard work, toil and vision’

Karam emphasises that all changes were made to the inside decor, while the outside structure remained untouched. “There was plumbing to be done, the kitchen had to be gutted and the garden around the home maintained,” he adds. Though the Puri family settled into the Fern Oaks Estate in 2019, they hadn’t yet hit upon the idea of a homestay just then. This was purely by happenstance.

In 2021, a snowstorm shook the town of Landour. A massive tree collapsed on and damaged the outhouse, which then needed renovation.

“I saw this as an opportunity to not only restore the outhouse, but also to transform it into a two-bedroom cottage where we could welcome guests who were looking for some peace and quiet and a great experience,” says Karam.

Today, the Fern Oaks Estate — a three-tiered cottage with four bedrooms along with a kitchen, dining area and study room — is where the Puri family reside. Being avid travellers, they have filled the space with souvenirs from their many trips across the globe, carpets from vintage markets across India and books that they adore. 

Meanwhile, The Fern Cottage is a welcome home in the hills for everyone who wishes to breathe in the breathtaking beauty of the town whilst being treated to a great vacation. 

The names of the two were born from the fact that there are numerous oak trees surrounding the cottage. “Every year as the monsoon sets in, ferns begin to grow out of the oaks. Thus, the name,” shares Karam. He adds that his main philosophy while designing was to follow the language of old colonial hill homes with sensibilities of old English cottages. 

“There is also a fireplace to keep you warm,” he adds. “If you love reading, writing, painting or simply waking up to birdsong, this is perfect. It is for the discerning traveller.” 

A vision in every corner 

To build the homestay, Karam says he had stones from old homes in the area repurposed, while the wood came from rafters. “The main varieties were deodar and sal wood which are expediently expensive today and were used in homes built around 200 years ago.” He adds that old colonial furniture one sees around the home are all from antique stores. “These pieces are colourful and contemporary.”

While the home has modern fixtures, there are furnishings from the British era too. 

“Our breakfast table and dining room chairs are from the original house, while the light fixtures are from our home in Chicago. Everything in the cottage is a representation of us as a family, of growing up around the world. Our carpets are from Iran, Kashmir, Pakistan and Baruch,” shares Karam. 

Sustainability and attention to nature are what the Puri family prides themselves on. 

The property has a rainwater harvesting tank with a capacity of 10,000 litres, while the oak forest around the home is home to 238 trees such as rhododendron, deodar, etc. The place is a haven for birds such as the Ultramarine Flycatchers, Asian Barn Owls, Laughing Thrush, Oriental White Eyes, Black Eagles and the Himalayan Griffon. 

Bird spotting is one of the many activities that guests can enjoy at Landour. There are treks in the area, sightseeing, and of course, a lot of catching up on old books to be done. But relaxation is the prime focus of the vacation, and the Puris ensure their guests leave feeling refreshed. 

“While you catch up on some sleep, our housekeeper Rita is busy preparing a hearty breakfast for you — cold milk, toast, fruit, butter, jam, eggs as per your preference and juice,” says Karam, adding that they plan to start a pahadi thali towards the end of this year, which will include millets and a traditional pahadi lunch. 

For those who’d love to spend their vacation experimenting in the kitchen, the Puris encourage this. “The kitchen is filled with basic veggies and spices and the local market is a 5-minute drive from here. Home chefs have a field day cooking up what they love to eat!” 

The cottage is seeing a wonderful response from guests, says Karam, and June is booked to full capacity. At a package of Rs 25,000 a night, he says guests are treated to a cottage in one of India’s most beautiful hill stations, a library of more than 200 books, board games galore, and numerous stories shared by the Puris. 

Edited by Divya Sethu

My brother and I would follow a strict routine — wake up early, eat breakfast, climb up to the loft and watch the clouds pass by out of the small window. Occasionally in that routine, my nani would call us for a chore that we mostly excitedly agreed to. 

She would open her potli (a small pouch for keeping coins) tied around her waist and hand us a Rs 5 coin to bring chhurpi. Chhurpi is a type of cheese made out of chauri milk, a mix between a yak and a cow.

Also known as the hardest cheese in the world, a piece of chhurpi can last two to three hours depending on the strength of your teeth. 

The Better India digs deeper into the history, culture and process of making the hardest cheese in the world. 

An adventure of sorts

For my nani, it was a mundane task to go to the shop to buy chhurpi, but for us, it was an adventure. 

The shop was only a few minutes downhill walk away and we would always try to find the shortest route to it. I would prefer the narrow bylanes with stairs while my brother would run as fast as he could on the narrow street. 

Kaka (shopkeeper) would sell ten pieces for Rs 5, of which I’d ask him to cut two into finer ones. Those two pieces were far easier on my developing and soft teeth. Kaka would pack the rest into paper, and sprinkle the two pieces set aside for me with a sweet powder that only enhanced the chhurpi’s taste. 

Said to have originated in the Himalayan regions of China and Nepal, the cheese eventually made its way to the Indian regions of Darjeeling and Sikkim, as well as to Bhutan. Made by pastoralists living in the Himalayan region, it is supposed to be chewed like gum. Tribes in these areas made the chhurpi out of waste milk or buttermilk. 

According to Mukta Singh Lama Tamang, an anthropologist at Tribhuvan University in Kathmandu, dairy has been an inextricable part of Himalayan culture and livelihood throughout history. Mukta says, “Chhurpi was concocted thousands of years ago out of the need to do something productive with the extra milk that can’t be consumed or sold anymore.”

What makes chhurpi so unique? 

An excellent source of protein, chhurpi is traditionally made out of a mix of cow or yak milk. Once the milk is procured, it is coagulated by adding calf rennet or any suitable coagulating agents such as microbial or vegetable rennet, vinegar, or lemon. The solid mass obtained is drained and the liquid is thrown away. 

The mass is then wrapped and hung in a thin cloth to drain out all the leftover water. Once completely drained, the cheese is shaped in a block and left to set for 24 hours and then sliced into cylindrical pieces. 

“The chhurpi cylinders are then tied together in bunches and dried by the fire. This adds a smoky flavour to the cheese. This aged chhurpi can last you months, but if it’s stored in special yak skin bags, they can stay fresh for nearly two decades,” noted Outlook India. 

The smoking process drains the chhurpi of all the moisture, making it very hard in texture, while giving it a unique smokey and burnt flavour. 

The BBC also noted that the low moisture content is responsible for keeping it edible for years. “Since both fermentation and dehydration extend a food’s shelf life, chhurpi is particularly well suited to high altitudes where there are few fresh supplies and other protein-rich foods.” 

The more you chew on chhurpi, the softer the smokey, sweet, and creamy cheese becomes. 

What’s interesting is that while this type of cheese has always been a delight for people living in northeastern states of India, it has found another consumer who loves chewing on it — dogs! 

The Guardian noted that chhurpi is being imported by the United States in large quantities to be used as a dog chew. “Chhurpi is a major export from Nepal, with at least 30 cheese dog-chew companies generating $22m (£18m) in 2021-22.” 

The softer cousin of chhurpi

There is another softer version of Chhurpi which is not dried and smoked but served raw. It is chewy, soft and sour, and was traditionally served as a side dish or to make pickles. Although it does not have a long shelf life, the soft chhurpi has found its place in the traditional cuisine of Sikkim and the mountain regions of West Bengal, It is used in making snacks, chhurpi-based sweets, salads, soups and chutneys. 

Although this beloved snack from my childhood is no longer available at the affordable price of 50 paise per piece, I make it a point to purchase and stock up whenever I visit my grandparents. It’s now easier to chew than before, and it fills me with a sense of nostalgia for my younger days.

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

Sources: 

The story of two cheese in Kalimpong (Research paper) by Anisa Bhutia for Tata Institute of Social Science, Published in 2022

The two lives of chhurpi by Aditya Raghavan for The Indian Express, Published on 22 April 2016

Chhurpi: The world’s hardest cheese? by Bijayabar Pradhan for BBC India, Published on 7th October 2021

Exploring trade prospects of Chhurpi and the present status of Chhurpi producers and exporters of Nepal by Journal of Ethnic Foods, Published on 2 January 2023. 

This Himalayan cheese has found itself an unlikely market by Labanya Maitra for Outlook India, Published on 24 August 2020. 

To tackle this, the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya (CSMVS) in Mumbai started the ‘Museum on Wheels’. This innovative endeavour aims to break the barrier of geographical location and economic factors, and bring the marvels of history, art and culture to the remote areas of India.

“Even in today’s day and time, people from rural backgrounds, especially children, do not see museums as a place that can aid learning. With this initiative, we want to change the narrative and say, ‘If you can’t visit a museum, we can bring it to you’,” says Krutika Mhatre, who spearheads the MOW project at Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya.

By bringing the museum directly to the children’s doorsteps for free, the Museum on Wheels has become a catalyst for change — sparking wonder, imagination, and knowledge among the eager hearts of rural children.

Starting in 2015, the initiative had travelled more than 700 cities and villages across the country so far.

Wonder on wheels

Krutika informs that the idea of the bus stems from a need to make museums a go-to spot for people.

“The museums are not as popular as other public spaces. People are not very familiar with the concept of museums in India. They don’t connect with them as a place where they can come, spend time, and enjoy the pieces,” she says.

“The concept of museums, with a bricked room and a gallery of displayed objects, is old and outdated. It has evolved so much; for instance, they are now interactive and explore many educational aspects. Most people are not much aware of this,” she says.

She mentions that another challenge associated with museums is their location.

“We do not have museums in every city and village in the world. So reaching them is also a task. Especially people who are not from tier 1 and 2 cities, do not even know what a museum is, so how would they ever reach it,” says Krutika.

With the intention of mitigating the above issues, the idea of ‘Museum on Wheels’ was conceived. “For the last seven years, we have managed to bring the concept of a museum closer to people, especially to people living in the rural areas,” she says.

Igniting the spark of curiosity in children

The initiative began with one bus in 2015, but due to the overwhelming response from the public, Krutika explains that an additional bus was added to the fleet in 2019.

“The project was supported by the city and the Ministry of Culture, Government of India, as well,” she says.

Recalling the first-ever exhibition on wheels that happened in Mumbai, Krutika says, “We wanted to start with a topic that everyone was familiar with. So we based it on Harappan civilisation, and it was a great success,” she says, adding that the theme of the exhibition changes every six months.

“Whenever we decide to change the theme, we speak with different school teachers and educators to understand what would intrigue the children more. If they are learning something in the curriculum, and if we can display the same on the bus, it will be an additional aid for them to learn,” says Krutika.

She continues, “We had a plethora of exhibitions in the past years including exhibitions on Indian coinage, Indian traditional games, sources of history, fossils in India, various civilisations, etc. We use visual aids to make it more interesting; for instance, we had a life-size skull model of a Rajasaurus that was found in India.”

“Kids show a lot of curiosity in such topics; there’s a spark in their eyes when they come across these pieces. The first bus was travelling 27 days in a month and was at capacity, and then the second bus was funded by CITI India,” she says.

She shares that the buses have travelled across the country and have reached 14 lakh individuals over the past seven years. They have travelled 85,359 km so far in states like Karnataka, Maharashtra, Goa, Gujarat, Haryana and Delhi NCR region.

Additionally, the Museum on Wheels also visits schools and institutions.

“It is a commendable initiative taken up to develop an interest in students about subjects such as history, geography, archaeology, and science, to name a few. The representatives of the museum personally cater to the needs of the students as per the school curriculum and get the bus to school,” says  Meenakshi Saxena, the headmistress of St. Xavier’s High School.

“When they visited our school, it aroused an interest in the students from lower grades. When questioned about the museum, they are always up on their toes to give everyone their input. That’s the impact of the Museum on Wheels on school kids. The students were able to recollect what they have seen when the topics were taught in the class, which in itself is a testimony of good work,” she adds.

The museum sources its pieces from the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya and from in-house artists who create appropriate display items.

Reflecting on the journey of seven years, Krutika says, “The target audience for the project was the rural children, and we have been able to achieve that. The children, who were not aware of the existence of museums were able to enjoy a physical museum. We use the outer part of the bus very tactfully by painting interesting imagery to attract these children. It is amazing to see how they react to the pieces.”

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

As the family lived with Chandra’s maternal grandparents who were an affluent lot, his growing-up years were inspired by everything he could get his hands on. The books piled high up to the ceiling in his uncle’s home library were Chandra’s favourite escape. He would spend hours here. The other part of his day would be spent with his grandmother Sarada Sundari Dhar, whose interest in astronomy and expertise in identifying constellations would fascinate the little boy.

It is this enthusiasm that Chandra grew up with that manifested in his love for the skies. And in 1910 when Bengal woke up to the news of Halley’s comet getting ready to make its appearance, no one was as excited as the 32-year-old Chandra. He knew this was the moment to put all his astronomical prowess to the test.

An astonishing feat

While Chandra had imbibed a love for reading and the skies, he struggled with academics, failing to clear the entrance exam held by the University of Calcutta for its Class 10 students. Unable to continue formal education, Chandra began scouting for jobs and eventually landed one as a coin tester in the Government Treasury of Jessore.

His role was to examine the authenticity of the metallic coins for which he was paid a salary of Rs 15 a month. However, throughout the 35 years that Chandra worked in this role, he had something to look forward to after a hard day’s work — the skies.

His interest in astronomy had only deepened, and so, on retiring from his job, he began devoting all his time to this passion. He found guidance under the mentorship of Kalinath Mukherjee, a lawyer in Jessore who was also an astronomer.

The story goes that Mukherjee’s house was a setup for various lectures on astronomy, and one of his most avid learners was Chandra who would stop by every night after work to learn more. Such was his passion for the night skies that he would experiment with making his own binoculars and observing comets through them.

So, naturally, when in 1910 the news of Halley’s comet spread like wildfire through Bengal, Chandra knew he couldn’t miss it for the world.

Intent on knowing the exact time and location of the sought-after comet, Chandra contacted Jagadananda Roy, a science teacher at the Santiniketan school. Roy was more than happy to share these insights, and Chandra made his way to the designated spot at the designated time. He was one of the first to spot the comet on 24 April 1910, and what’s more, all he had to aid him were his trusted binoculars.

A legendary telescope

Eager to delve more into matters of space and fuelled by the happiness at having seen Halley’s comet, Chandra would share his learnings with Roy. He advised Chandra to consider getting a telescope that would broaden his horizons when it came to astronomy.

How Chandra procured his first telescope is an interesting tale.

They say, wish for something and the universe conspires to make it happen. When Chandra was looking to buy a telescope, he had no means of actually doing so because of the unaffordable expense. Coincidentally, the Government increased the pay scales of coin testers during that time, and Chandra received a large sum in terms of arrears.

So, in April 1912, he made an advanced payment to the Bernard & Co. of England for a 3-inch refracting telescope, which was delivered two months later. It cost him Rs 160, a hefty sum in those days, and an additional Rs 100 to replace the cardboard tube of the telescope with brass. Chandra spent years with this newfound prized possession of his. The skies were the limit!

Soon, his work got recognition from the American Association of Variable Star Observers (AAVSO) who were so taken up with his determination that they gave him a 6.25-inch reflector telescope. Overjoyed with this, Chandra decided to donate the previous purchase to a school in Calcutta to fuel the zeal for astronomy in young minds, just as had been in his case.

In 1918, he was credited for the finding of the Nova Aquila-3, a bright star that hadn’t found its way to the Star Map yet. In the course of his lifetime, Chandra made a total of 49,700 stellar observations up to 1954, when he finally retired.

A true marvel in India’s astronomical field.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

The university town, located in Birbhum district’s Bolpur town, is among West Bengal’s — and India’s — most important heritage icons. A campaign to give it a place on UNESCO’s list of World Heritage Sites first began in 2010, when the Archeological Survey of India submitted a formal request to the UN body to include parts of the neighbourhood in the list.

The bid had failed then, but last week, began inching closer to a revival when the International Council of Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) — the advisory body to the UNESCO World Heritage Centre — made a recommendation to include it on the list based on a file moved by the Government of India. If selected, Santiniketan will be the state’s second cultural symbol to make it to UNESCO’s list — in 2021, Kolkata’s Durga Puja was noted as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

Santiniketan embodied polymath Rabindranath Tagore’s vision for education that explored and challenged the boundaries of traditional classrooms. In recent years, it has moved away from this dream, but the UNESCO recognition could perhaps set it back on its path.

A barren land and two Chhatim trees

In the 1860s, Tagore’s father Debendranath was traversing western Bengal. When he arrived in the Birbhum region, he was instantly captivated by the beauty of the land, where “two large Chhatim (Alstonia scholaris) trees [offered] gentle shade on the dry, red land”. It is said that he took 20 acres of the land on permanent lease from its then owner Bhuban Mohan Sinha, who was the talukdar of Raipur. Here, he built a guest house and christened it Santiniketan, or the “abode of peace”.

Years later, in a trust deed drawn in 1888, Debendranath would say the land would allow “no insult to any religion or religious deity”, and “apart from worshipping the formless, no community may worship any idol depicting god, man, or animals; neither may anyone arrange sacrificial rituals in Santiniketan”.

Bolpur, the region where Santiniketan came up, was no more remarkable than any other town at the time. A portion of the town was owned by the Sinha family, who developed a village named Bhubandanga in the area, which was known for a group of violent dacoits. It is said that they eventually surrendered to Debendranath and helped him develop the area. Here, the ‘maharshi’ built a 60 x 30 foot glass structure for Brahmo prayers, right under the Chhatim trees that had first captivated him.

A permanent adventure of life

Tagore arrived at Shantiniketan for the first time at the age of 17.

Around this time, he had gone to London to become a barrister but had returned a short while later, without a degree. The time he had spent in London, however, was not in vain — though he did not fully embrace English traditions and culture, he also stayed away from his family’s stringent Hindu religious practices, instead walking a path in the middle, incorporating his learnings and experiences from both cultures.

It’s no secret that the laureate was a fierce critic of limiting education to a classroom. “Education is a permanent adventure of life,” he would say. For him, experiential learning could deliver far more to students than the rote, textual learning that the European model of education had ushered in.

So in 1921, Tagore sought to build a new form of university — “I have in mind to make Santiniketan the connecting thread between India and the world,” he said. “I have to found a world centre for the study of humanity there… I want to make that place somewhere beyond the limits of nation and geography.”

The path in the middle

What the college envisioned was evident in its name — Visva Bharati, or the confluence of the world with India. It began as a school named Brahmacharyashram with just five students in 1901, with the purpose to inculcate the development of the mind, inspired by ancient India’s tapovan. In 1921, it was formally established as a university and rechristened Visva Bharati.

Santiniketan and Visva Bharati aligned with Tagore’s early years of walking that middle path between the two worlds that had taught him so much — his school was by no means to denounce Western education, but instead to uphold the ideals of India’s culture and tradition, retaining the best of both worlds. It also pioneered a coeducational model in India, which was nearly unheard of at the time.

The Statesman noted that teachers at the school taught students by posing questions to them, rather than relying on lectures alone. “Students were encouraged to deliberate about their life decisions and to take the initiative in organising meetings.”

The report added, “Tagore urged students to explore intellectual self-reliance and freedom. He believed that true freedom in the acquisition of knowledge and experience could not be gained by ‘possessing other people’s ideas but by forming one’s own standards of judgement and producing one’s own thoughts’.”

And what is Santiniketan today?

Though a bit far from Tagore’s original ideals, in some ways, Visva Bharati retains the ethos on which it was built by the polymath. It is known for its focus on humanities and arts, as a haven that still looks beyond the confines of religions, genders or varying cultures; where thousands of students still study under trees and commute within the campus on cycles; and where historic structures serve as both tourist attractions and functional facilities for students.

Over the years, it has seen notable alumni members — from Satyajit Ray and Amartya Sen to Indira Gandhi and Gayatri Devi. It contributed to the making of India’s national emblem when Kala Bhavan (Visva Bharati’s art school) director Nandalal Bose assigned five students to design it.

Beyond the school, there is the Rabindra Bhavan — a museum and centre that houses a major portion of the laureate’s life in the forms of letters, manuscripts, paintings, writings, journals, and photographs. Its Uttarayana Complex houses five homes built by Tagore that imbibe the sustainable architectural practices of rural India, and the Ashram Complex — Santiniketan’s oldest area — houses mud and coal structures and several historic homes.

Every year, the neighbourhood marks the harvest season with the Poush Mela, a portal into rural Bengal’s history. About 15 km away is Amar Kutir, once a refuge for Indian revolutionaries and today a cooperative society for rural arts and crafts.

Santiniketan was the place where Tagore wrote some of his best works, and where he discovered that he would be the first Indian to receive the Nobel Prize.

It can be said that ‘Chitto Jetha Bhayshunyo’ (Where the Mind is Without Fear), which is regarded as Tagore’s vision for a “new and awakened India”, also embodies his work with Santiniketan — where education would lead young Indians to freedom of the mind, where studying is accompanied closely by the joy of learning, and where a person grows from within.

‘My life’s best treasure’

When you rummage through Tagore’s lifelong work, you find its unique ability to find a place in both the university classrooms of intellectuals and scholars, as well as the narrow lanes, cluttered homes, and blooming fields of the rural class. Santiniketan embodied something similar — a place where the ethos and principles laid down in ancient India actually end up paving the way for global assimilation and universality.

But in its bid to gain its place on UNESCO’s list, it has to be acknowledged in its entirety — including its tangible elements.

Abha Narain Lambah, who prepared the ASI dossier back in 2010, noted that “Santiniketan was unique and uniquely challenging as a UNESCO dossier, because apart from the overarching narrative of Tagore as a visionary artist and thinker, under the UNESCO format, we had to argue on the cultural criteria of tangible elements.”

She also noted, “In the early 20th century, India was under the yoke of colonialism, and Santiniketan heralded a break from colonial revivalist architecture to forge a new modernity, which was not looking to the West but inwards, exploring indigenous materials and techniques, delving into India’s rich past and absorbing influences from the East to create a pan-Asian modernity.”

Meanwhile, historian Tapati Guha-Thakurta noted that the UNESCO recognition could perhaps restore the international eminence that the place enjoyed.

In a letter to Gandhi during his later years, Tagore would define Santiniketan as a “vessel, carrying the cargo of [his] ‘life’s best treasure’.”

Perhaps it’s time to unpack this cargo and explore within, to see why Santiniketan is integral to India’s history, not only thanks to the legacy and contributions of Tagore but also as an individual entity that ushered a new dawn of India’s cultural glory.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

Sources:

Rabindranath Tagore: An Indian Polymath: By Rubin Museum’s blog

Lessons from Tagore on how to find ‘intense joy’ (and other happinesses) in education: Written by Ranjan Ghosh for Scroll.in; Published on 1 June 2017

Shantiniketan, revisited: Written by Ira Pande for Tribune India; Published on 3 May 2020

Tagore’s vision of an institution: Written by Sumit Bhattacharjee for The Hindu; Published on 26 March 2012

For Santiniketan, Unesco World Heritage status has been a decade-long wait: Written by Ishita Ayan Dutt for Business Standard; Published on 12 May 2023

“The most interesting item of news in the psycho-world is the foundation of the local group in Calcutta, led by Dr G Bose, a Professor Extraordinary,” wrote Dr Freud, in his letter to Andreas-Salome.

The ‘G Bose’ referenced in this letter was none other than Dr Girindrasekhar Bose (1887-1953). A Calcutta-based medical practitioner, he was specialising in psychotherapy at a time when the discipline was largely alien to the Indian populace and its medical fraternity.

Playing a pivotal role in laying the foundation of mental health services in India, Bose was a pioneering psychoanalyst who set up India’s first psychiatric outpatient department (OPD) in Kolkata on 1 May 1933. Called the General Hospital Psychiatric Unit, it was set up at the Carmichael Medical College (now known as Dr RG Kar Medical College, Kolkata).

Although they never met, Bose regularly corresponded with Freud, exchanging ideas, notes, photographs and even criticisms. On his own, he also contributed immensely to the larger academic discourse on psychology with his own theories.

By many accounts, Bose was an extraordinary personality. What Freud was referring to in the letter to his colleague was the process of establishing India’s first psychoanalytical society. Called the Indian Psychoanalytical Society, it was formally established on 26 June 1922.

Its head office is still standing at 14 Parsibagan Lane, the erstwhile residence of the Bose family, with its logo carrying a combined image of Shiva and Parvati, “symbolising the bisexuality of human beings (Ardhanarishvara: half male and half female),” notes SK Abdul Amin, a research scholar at Jadavpur University, writing for Live History India, in May 2022.

An ivory statue of Vishnu gifted to Freud by Girindrasekhar Bose on 75th birthday. Stayed on his desk till his death. pic.twitter.com/IC3HONXn2j

— keerthik śaśidharan (@KS1729) August 1, 2014

Before becoming a pioneer

Born on 30 January 1887 in Darbhanga, Bihar, Bose grew up in prosperity with his father Chandrasekhar serving as the Dewan of the estate of local Maharaja Sir Rameshwar Singh. The youngest of nine children, Bose graduated from Presidency College in Calcutta before obtaining his M.D. from a medical college in the city. He was among the first to register for a new graduate training course in psychology announced by Calcutta University in 1916.

Upon completion, he became a lecturer at the varsity’s Department of Psychology and ended up becoming the head of the department from 1928 to 1938.

According to Amin, “Bose was the first to earn a doctorate in psychology from an Indian university”, after finishing his thesis titled ‘The Concept of Repression’ in 1921. In the same year, he began corresponding with Freud. Even though the two shared an age difference of 30 years, they corresponded for nearly two decades.

Bose and Freud

In his very first letter, Bose articulated his unique ‘opposite wishes’ theory.

As scholar I.F. Grant noted in his 1933 paper published in the Indian Journal of Psychology, “According to this theory every wish in the human being arises in twofold form, the one member of the pair being the exact opposite of the other member. The one wish is conscious, its opposite number is unconscious. Normally the conscious side is satisfied by appropriate action and the unconscious by identification. When one member of an opposite pair of wishes is satisfied, a tension is produced until the opposite wish is also satisfied.”

Grant illustrates this theory with a simple example.

“For example, if A strikes B, B’s wish to be struck is satisfied and the active wish to strike becomes conscious and B now wishes to strike A. Before A struck B, the two opposite wishes in B were latent and each was inhibited by the other. This is the basis of retaliation and punishment, both in the individual and in society. It is one of the mechanisms via which the superego [“ethical component of the personality” which “provides the moral standards by which the ego operates”] is formed,” he adds.

Bose’s theory of ‘opposite wishes’ in many ways laid the ground for groundbreaking Western psychology concepts developed in the future like ‘projective identification’ (“the psychological process by which a person projects a thought or belief that they have onto a second person”) and ‘intersubjectivity’ (“a shared perception of reality between two or more individuals”).

Responding to Bose’s letter about his thesis, Freud expressed admiration by saying he was “glad to testify the correctness of its principal views and the good sense appearing in it.” He went on to add, “It is interesting that theoretical reasoning and deduction does play so great a part in your demonstration of the matter which with us is rather treated empirically”.

In the following year, the Indian Psychoanalytical Society was established and received affiliation from the International Psychoanalytical Association.

Soon, Freud also requested Bose to join the editorial board for both the International Journal of Psychoanalysis and German Zeitschrift für Psychoanalyse as “leader and representative of the Indian group”. However, their relationship wasn’t merely one of friendship and a meeting of minds. Bose challenged Freud, disagreeing with his version of the famous Oedipus complex.

“I do not agree with Freud when he says that the oedipus wishes ultimately succumb to the authority of the super-ego. Quite the reverse is the case. The super-ego must be conquered and the ability to castrate the father and make him into a woman is an essential requisite for the adjustment of the oedipus wish. The oedipus isresolved not by the threat of castration, but by the ability to castrate,” noted Bose.

Treating mental health

Besides his academic work, however, “Bose [also] greatly helped the surgeons by putting the patient in hypnotic trance (mesmerism) and mastered the technique of hypnotism and treated mental patients,” notes a profile published by the Indian National Science Academy.

Despite his regular correspondence with Freud and the Western academia, Bose never shied away from critiquing them and offering his own interpretations of psychoanalysis.

Even Freud acknowledges the unique perspective that Bose offered.

“The contradictions within our current psychoanalytic theory are many..and I reproach myself for not having given attention to your ideas before..I suspect that your theory of opposite wishes is practically unknown among us and has never been mentioned or discussed. This attitude was to be abolished. I am eager to see it weighed and considered by English and German analysts all over.”

His understanding of psychoanalysis was further informed by Indian philosophy. From studying Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra to translating and interpreting traditional Sanskrit texts and writing a groundbreaking article on the Bhagavad Gita, he found inspiration in the traditional. His 1931 article on the Gita published in Probashi, a Bengali journal, is still considered a groundbreaking attempt at establishing a correlation between Hindu philosophy and Western psychology.

But his desire to reach a local audience extends far beyond. In 1928, he published Swapna, which presented Freud’s concept of dreams to Bengali readers. Years later in 1953, he published Manobidyar Paribhasha, an explainer of psychological concepts to Bengali readers.

More importantly, however, Bose arrived at psychoanalysis at a critical time in Indian social history.

According to scholar Ashis Nandy, “Bose turned to psychoanalysis at a time when the traditional social relationships that took care of most of the everyday problems of living — the neuroses and less acute forms of psychosis — were breaking down in urban India.”

“The first victims of this change were the psychologically afflicted; they were no longer seen as aberrant individuals deserving a place within the family and the community, but as diseased and potentially dangerous waste products of the society. In 1933, he established India’s first psychiatric out-patient clinic in Calcutta’s Carmichael Medical College and Hospital,” he added.

A few years later in February 1940, the Indian Psychoanalytic Society established a hospital and research centre at Calcutta’s Lumbini Park.

“Bose took another radical step and set up a private nursing home and clinic on 5 February 1940, at Bediadanga Road, in Tiljala, near Ballygunge [Kolkata]. The land was gifted by his brother Rajsekhar and the nursing home was managed by the Indian Psychoanalytical Society before it attained mental hospital status under the Lunacy Act in 1952. It was renamed Lumbini Mental Hospital,” according to Abdul Amin.

In 1942, the legendary Bengali rebel poet Kazi Nazrul Islam, sought treatment at the nursing home under Bose’s supervision following a serious illness resulting in a loss of speech. Decades later, however, the State government took over the hospital.

At the end of the decade, he even set up a school for children with special needs “organised on psychoanalytic principles”. In 1951, this institution became a residential home called Bodhi Peet.

Till his eventual demise in 1953 at the age of 66, Bose played a pivotal role in laying the foundation of mental health support and treatment in India today. His passing, however, did not curtail his legacy.

On the request of Anna Freud, the youngest child of Sigmund Freud, Bose’s wife Indrumati donated the Bose-Freud letters to the Freud archives in London a decade after his death. In 1970, the Girindra Sekhar Clinic was established to offer psychiatric and psychoanalytical services to those suffering from mental illness at affordable rates.

His legacy lives on till this day.

(Edited by Pranita Bhat; Images courtesy Facebook/Indian Psychoanalytical Society)

Sources:

‘Girindrasekhar Bose: The Father of Psychoanalysis in India’ by SK Abdul Amin; Published on 16 May 2022 courtesy Live History India

‘The Beginnings of Psychoanalysis in India: Bose-Freud Correspondence’; Published by Indian Psychoanalytical Society in 1964

Profile of ‘Professor GS Bose’ by Indian National Science Academy

General: G. Bose. ‘A New Theory of Mental Life.’ Indian Journal of Psychology, 1933, Vol. VIII, pp. 37–157

‘Opposite Wishes’ by Alf Hiltebeitel; Published in September 2018 courtesy Oxford University Press

‘Bonfire of Creeds: The Essential Ashis Nandy’ (339-393 p.); Published by Oxford University Press in 2004

‘Girindrasekhar Bose—India’s first psychoanalyst was pen pals with Sigmund Freud’ by Krishnokoli Hazra; Published on 20 April 2023 courtesy The Print

Psychology Concepts

Psychoanalysis Between Vienna and Calcutta by Candela Potente

While today the tradition also encompasses meats and other succulents, history reveals that people have been enjoying the wonders of the tandoor right from the time of the Harappan civilisation. 

An interesting turn of events led to the tandoor style of cooking being passed down through the lands of undivided Punjab to Delhi — where the historic Moti Mahal restaurant has kept the secret of the tandoor alive since 1920. 

A love affair 

The art of baking bread using this method was well-known during the Indus Valley Civilisation 5,000 years ago, suggested by traces of tandoors discovered during the excavation of these sites. People would build cylindrical clay ovens into the ground and light fires with charcoal. The beauty of creating this structure was that within it, temperatures would rise to as high as 400 degrees Celsius, lending the bread and meat a charred or slightly smoky flavour. 

But while the tandoor was prevalent during these historical times, it was only during the Mughal era that cooking meats in this style gained popularity. 

Emperor Jehangir is to thank for this. So fascinated was he by the smoky flavours of dishes cooked in the tandoor that he began pushing for meats to be prepared in the same style. And that’s not all. 

As the Mughals would shift base and move their army camps from one site to another, Jehangir fondly missed his tandoori delights, and to satiate his appetite, he had a portable tandoor created to prepare meats and bread on the go. 

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This form of cooking remained popular even after the sun set on the Mughal era — especially in the Sikh community. Guru Nanak Dev, founder of the Sikh religion, was intent on secularism, encouraging people of all religious backgrounds to eat together. Through the formation of sanjha chulha (common ovens), people from different communities would come together for a meal, with the women using tandoor ovens to bake the bread. 

However, while the tandoor was a symbol of community before Partition, it is only after this historical event that it reached the modern world. 

The Partition of 1947 

The singular reason for the prevalence and popularity of tandoori delights in Mughlai cuisine, across India in general, was because of a gentleman named Shri Kundan Lal Gujral. When he was just a little boy, his father passed away. Kundan became responsible for supporting the family. This was around the same time that India was divided into two separate nations. 

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Among the scores of people who migrated across borders was Kundan, who left behind his eatery in Peshawar — Moti Mahal — and moved to Delhi. Unwilling to give up on the work he had built since 1920, he carried the tandoor tradition with him to the new region. With a friend, he purchased a space in Daryaganj, eventually setting up the first Moti Mahal restaurant, the pride of which continues to be the tandoor to date. 

As Monish Gujral’s book Moti Mahal’s Tandoori Trail highlighted, “He had the chicken roasted in a mud-baked oven made from a hole dug into the ground and lit with wood or coal — the tandoor (derived from a Persian word). Along with this came the usual tandoori roti, constituting a thick ball of kneaded wheat, freshly baked in the same oven, made of the familiar ground wheat, but swollen to a crisp roundness. The combination was lethal for the weighty who were hard put to refrain and paradisiacal for those who could afford to splurge.” 

The magic of the tandoor 

The eatery’s website offers a glimpse into the slew of influential clientele that it has served. It reads, “Moti Mahal has served the traditional food, from a normal curry and a roadside tandoor baking bread in a delightful manner with full of innocuity to satiate the palates of famous personalities such as the late US president Richard Nixon, then the Canadian prime minister Pierre Trudeau, the king of Nepal, and Soviet leaders Alexie Kosygin, Nikolia Bulganin and Nikita Krushehev, and we have taken pride by winning the heart and taste buds of every generation of Prime Minister of India.” 

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It adds, “So this is the journey [of] a simple idea of cooking in earthen ovens, which had started in 1920 in an eatery of Peshawar, [became] an international brand known as The Moti Mahal Group.” 

Today, while 90 outlets have been added to the legacy of the brand, the fame of the tandoor has spread across the globe. Every land has come up with its own concoction of spices to be added to the marinade. As the delicacies of the tandoor grace dining tables across the world, it is an ode to how this feast was born out of pure simplicity. 

Edited by Divya Sethu

Folk songs and classical ragas, playback singers and Bharat Ratna artistes, freedom struggle and popular films — the seemingly disparate sections rub shoulders merrily here at a one-of-its-kind Indian music museum in Bengaluru. Revealing the wide diversity and history of Indian music, the Indian Music Experience (IME) museum is an awe-inspiring tribute and treasure trove.

A nation whose dance and music tradition dates back to over 2,000 years deserves this and more. There is, of course, the Sangeet Natak Academy, but it focuses more on performances — this was the thought that M R Jaishankar, the chairman of Brigade Group of Real Estate Developers, found himself thinking. But India needed something that also showcased the rich history of music, he realised while visiting the Grammy museum in Los Angeles. Roughly ten years later, his dream came true, and the IME was open to the public. 

“The Indian Music Experience music came into being as a community development initiative,” Jaishankar explains. “Though I’m not a connoisseur, I’m passionate about music: be it Western classical, Carnatic or Bollywood songs of yesteryears. I wanted to create something that will make the younger generation aware of India’s rich heritage in art and culture.” 

He continues, “This need was further driven home when I visited museums in the West and realised that Indian culture is far richer. In Seattle, I saw the Jimmy Hendrix museum, and that made me think that if a whole museum can be dedicated to a single musician, India, which has thousands of musicians, also needed a museum to showcase its heritage.” 

“IME, promoted by the Indian Music Experience Trust, is doing a creditable job of nurturing various forms of music. We wanted an interactive approach so everyone could craft their own unique experience when engaging with the exhibits.”

‘Can you imagine a world without music?’

This question is posed to the visitors at IME on the storyboards that adorn its walls. Pause and think. Beginning with a mother’s lullaby to the chants recited at a funeral, our lives are interwoven with musical tones, melodies and rhythms for every occasion and every mood. Whether we use it to communicate like in folk songs, or to emote as a lover does, celebrate a cricket win, or add to the gaiety of a wedding, we cannot do it without beats and notes. Music has also been used to inspire the masses into social action. All these notions come alive at the museum.

What makes IME unique is the interactive aspect of the museum, with its touchscreen display and headphone sets in each section. Here, you not only explore artists and genres, but also find the opportunity to learn the different facets of music, thanks to IME’s learning centre, which offers classes in Indian classical music, western and instrumental music.

The museum has three sections — galleries, sound garden and the learning centre. Three floors house nine galleries, and sport many storyboards with vignettes of music information, artefacts from the lives of renowned Bharat Ratna artistes, documentary films, and much more. If you have the time to spare — at least half a day — you can read lesser known and interesting stories. For example, how the harmonium came to India, or the first words to ever be recorded and played back.

Designed by internationally renowned Gallagher & Associates, who designed the Grammy Museum, IME is an aesthetic feast for the eye and ear. From the huge posters of Bengaluru’s youth haunts like Brigade Road and Commercial Street, to the inset bioscopes displaying Bollywood songs from across time, the visual art accompanying the folk music, and the ‘Gallery of Stars’ with massive billboards guaranteed to ring in nostalgia, a lot of thought has gone into the design of this museum.

Art in progress 

One of the aims of the museum is to make Indian music accessible and lovable to the youth. “We have achieved that. On an average we have the most number of young people among the visitors,” notes Preema John, the director of IME museum.

That may explain why the galleries start with one on ‘Contemporary Expressions’, covering Indian pop and fusion music and the cacophony symbolised by the autorickshaw. After that, the chronology falls in place, ending with the Legends Gallery, a treat for music lovers.

“It took around ten long years of raising funds, doing the research, design and building,” points out Preema. “The institution is one of the rarest of its kind to have been conceptualised, built and opened. So many experts were involved in the work. For instance, for the section ‘Songs of Struggle’, we worked with Sumangala Damodaran, who has over 15 years of research experience on songs of resistance.” Similarly, for each section, scholars were involved.

Preema, who took over the baton from Carnatic vocalist Manasi Prasad last October, is a student of art with an expertise in arts administration and curating. A JNU student of art history and art criticism, she has worked across the country for various arts projects, also having run the show at the Kochi Biennale.

Yet another innovative aspect of the museum is that it encourages volunteer docents. Trained by IME, they help with school tours and free weekend tours of the museum. The youngest is 15, and the oldest an 82-year-old enthusiast from the nearby Brigade community. “We see them as extensions of our community at the museum. We see the museum as a community space,” says Preema.

The IME is a piece of art in progress, “with so much to still do”, she notes. 

“Like everything else, the way music is used and performed keeps changing and we need to keep abreast of contemporary changes and update our exhibits. By the end of the year we plan to have a section on tribal music, which is an inalienable part of our music traditions. While we have permanent exhibits and robust programmes in schedule, we plan to provide artistes space to talk of new strains of music and also about production of music.”

Right now there is one performance every week. The plan is to have two major events annually.

What can you expect? 

Beginning with an introduction to Indian classical music and going back to the Vedas more than 2,000 years ago, the galleries cover Music of Dance, Carnatic, Hindustani, ghazals, folk music, and end with filmy music. From Indian rock bands to classical music, you can be transported to any mood you seek. Basic concepts of sruti, raga, tala, gharana, dhrupad, and so on are explained. Visitors can check out their pitch and the more adventurous can even compose their music.

My favourite was the enclosure titled ‘Samay Chakra’, which depicts the time of day or season allotted to various ragas in Hindustani music. Seated in the dim lit room, playing one of the spellbinding notes from Tansen’s compositions, with clouds chasing one another on the ceiling, it was easy to go into a mesmerised trance.

In the folklore section, the Rajasthani kavad box is fascinating with the storytelling tradition it unfurls with each window that opens out. Do not skip the storyboard of ‘A Story and a Song’ which is enchanting in its plot and message. Here, you can sample songs from across the country, talking of birth, death, weddings and festivals. Touchscreens let you hear the sound made by each instrument, featuring around a 100. The ‘Songs of Struggle’ transport you to the pre-Independence era — you can hear the sounds and speeches of freedom fighters, or the many versions of Vande Mataram.

From kinds of music and instruments, the museum goes on to touch on the inventions of phonograph, gramophone, microphone and leading to today’s digital age, with a studio where you can sing a Bollywood number and get the recording mailed to you. Amazing stories of women musicians of yore, who recorded with the Gramophone Company a hundred years ago, will come as a surprise. Why haven’t we heard of these path breakers, one wonders? 

Thomas Alva Edison’s narration of the first ever recording, and the playback of the sound, can transport the imaginative visitor back in time. It was a popular nursery rhyme. Check out which that was.

All through the journey, delightful visual leitmotifs adorn the floor in a play of light and shadow.

Emerging from the cocoon of music, into the front yard of the museum, the science of music entices the visitor to put his head into a hollow in the rock and hum away. Frequency and resonance chapters of physics come alive, and you can study the varying sounds in different media — wood, brass, aluminium or stone. The Sound Garden was developed by Foley Designs, with concepts coming from Swaram, an organisation from Auroville.

The museum cost around Rs 40 crore to build and most of the money came from sponsors, both institutional and individuals, alongside grants from the Ministry of Culture and the state government. Among those involved with the project for the longest time, beside the founder, was veena maestro Dr Suma Sudhindra and Carnatic vocalist Manasi Prasad.

Meanwhile, the learning centre presently has around 171 students pursuing a 5-year diploma course, with 12 teachers who come in for sessions. The centre also offers mrudangam, keyboard, drums and guitar classes. Both online and offline classes are available at subsidised rates, says the director, adding that the IME is looking at university affiliations. Another plan on the anvil is to start short term music appreciation classes for adults with some inclination towards music. Through project ‘Svarita’, the museum takes music into the lives of socially disadvantaged children. 

Entrance tickets are priced at Rs 150 and 250 during weekdays and weekends respectively, with a discount for seniors and kids. Bengaluru residents who are often in a fix when it comes to entertaining guests with holiday spots can count on IME. It is a day well spent, unless you suffer from anhedonia.

(For more details visit https://indianmusicexperience.org/)

Written by Jaya K; Edited by Divya Sethu

While the Indians were looking at unending years of misery and despair, one man landed on the shores of the island in 1907. Whilst his stay was short, a total of four years, the changes brought in by him were revolutionary in every sense.

Manilal Doctor, an envoy of Mahatma Gandhi has gone down in history for being a beacon of hope for the Indians. From being indentured labourers, he helped them to become people entitled to their rights and freedom.

Here’s how Manilal’s four years spent on the island changed the course of history.

Born to lead

It all started with a letter.

Addressed to Mahatma Gandhi, the letter implored the social reformist to heed the pleas of the people of Fiji. These were Indians, who in their quest of finding work and a better life in the archipelago, had signed up for a cruel fate. The Indians highlighted their concerns about the mistreatment they faced at the hands of the Britishers, right from their legal rights being ignored to being forced to do arduous work in the cane fields.

Gandhi, who was in South Africa at the time, was saddened to hear about the plight of these Indians and had the letter published in Indian Opinion, a newspaper that he’d established. The daily had a massive reader base, including Manilal Doctor. Upon reading the letter, he was inspired to offer his services and made a trip to South Africa to meet Gandhi.

The latter convinced him to move to Mauritius and lighten the plight of these Indians by using his legal knowledge to get them their due rights. An anecdote tells of how the people of the island were so enthusiastic about finally getting a leader that they pooled 172 pounds together. The money would suffice to pay for Manilal’s ship fare, a home and law books.

Le Mauricien, a French language newspaper, chronicles the many efforts of Manilal Doctor during his stay in the island nation.

“His stay in our midst is full of historic events that have become the rich ingredients for historians to delve into at all ages. He is remembered among Indo-Mauritian historians to have founded the ‘Young Men’s Hindu Association’, the ‘Local Arya Samaj Movement’, and the ‘Hindustani’, a bilingual daily, all these to defend and safeguard the interests of the working-class Indians in this country,” reads an excerpt from an article.

A lifetime’s work in four years

The first issue that Manilal focused on tackling was the “Double Cut” and the “Corvée” systems prevalent on the island. This meant unpaid and forced labour by the Indians for hours on the cane and sugar plantations. And as Totaram Sanadhya, an indentured labourer who later became a Hindu priest, wrote in his book My Twenty One Years in the Fiji Islands, “a smart way of getting the work done”.

“Fiji’s true inhabitants cannot do the work of a labourer well. Their own nature is wholly unsuited to this activity. In the cane fields, one has to do the same work every day (they get fed up from doing this). But the Indian coolies are utterly well-suited for this very activity, and planters generally give the work to them,” reads an excerpt.

Through the brutal systems implemented in the fields, the inhabitants and landlords would declare the Indians as vagrants, and with the help of a justice system and the district magistrate, send them to prison. Finally, the hours of work done by the helpless Indians would yield harvests for the planters and help them financially while the Indians rotted in jail.

Manilal Doctor integrated his legal knowledge into the judicial system ensuring that the labourers were rightly treated. Manilal, along with giving the Indians legal advice, would also write their letters and petitions and fight their cases in court for a low fee. As the indentured labour system began fading out in 1916, he then focused his efforts on helping the Indians get political rights.

An organisation is born

The Indian Imperial Association of Fiji was inaugurated on 2 June, 1918, and meetings were frequently held and presided over by the chairman, none other than Manilal Doctor.

Following the meetings, the streets would be filled with chants of “Hindu-Mussalman ki jai,” “Mahatma Gandhi ki jai” and “Mahatma Tilak ki jai”, which irked the British. The meetings along with demands voiced by the Indians finally culminated at the end of the indenture system of labour on 1 January, 1920.

However, empowered by their leader Manilal, the Indians continued their strikes not willing to settle for long working hours. This, the British decided was enough retaliation they had seen.

In his book, The Fiji Indians: Challenges to European Dominance, 1920-1946, Kenneth Gillion, a New Zealand academic wrote, “On 27 March an Order was made under the Peace and Good Order Ordinance, 1875 prohibiting Manilal, Mrs Manilal, Harpal Maharaj (a Hindu priest) and Fazil Khan (a wrestler) from residing for two years on Viti Levu or Ovalau or within Macuata province on Vanua Levu. Legally, this was not a sentence of deportation, but it amounted to the same thing, as the areas named were the main areas of Indian settlement and the only places where Indians could earn a living in Fiji.”

It was time for Manilal to leave the island he had helped. Through the course of the four years that he spent there, over 60,965 Indian labourers were helped.

While the lawyer returned to India, where he passed away in 1953, the impact of his work lives on in history.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

The house called Ballygunge Place house has seen the birth, rise and peak of veteran artist Jamini Roy. One of the most celebrated artists in Bengal, Jamini’s work, often considered to be of modernist approach, was appreciated by icons like Gandhi and Nehru.

Roy was also declared a National Treasure Artist by the Government of India in 1976. So, who is this artist, and what is his life story?

The modernist who rejected the Western style of painting

Born on 11 April, 1887, in Bengal’s Bankura district, Roy was always interested in arts and painting. Discovering the boy’s interest in painting, his family sent him to study at the Government College of Art, Kolkata.

Abanindranath Tagore, the founder of Bengal School, taught Roy academic traditional drawing, classical nudes and painting in oils. In 1908, the artist graduated from the college with a fine arts degree. This form of art was popular at the time, and Roy’s initial work reflects the influence of the Western classical style of art.

He started off his career as a commissioned portrait painter. While Roy was practising Western classical art and impressionism to follow the conventional style at the time, he never found his soul in his work. Although the artist had mastered the strokes and the colours, he could never draw inspiration from Western concepts.

Krishna Chaitanya, in his book A History of Indian Painting, Volume 2, points out that it was his initial Western classical works that “enabled him to make a livelihood while starting out and his learnings in impressionism are reflected in later paintings”.

Looking for inspiration gave his life an interesting turn.

A report in the Firstpost states, “It happened that Abanindranath Tagore’s idea of Indianisation of art and Rabindranath Tagore’s essay The Hermitage, published in Prabasi, the famous Bengali literary magazine of the time, in 1908, which Jamini Roy read thoroughly in 1923, inspired him into nationalism and searching for his roots.”

He found his true calling in 1925 when he saw a few Kalighat paintings displayed outside the Kalighat temple in Kolkata. The almond-shaped eyes, round faces, curvy bodies and colourful contours attracted Roy, and he decided to learn and perfect this art.

By 1930, he had made a complete switch from Western to traditional art styles — mostly Patua scroll paintings and the Kalighat Pat style.

Journey back to his roots

Chaitanya, in his book, explains that Roy believed that the lives of ordinary people were more important than the lives of kings, leaders, and politicians. He abandoned the use of Western paints and opted for natural pigments from flowers, mud, chalk, “local rock dust mixed with the glue of tamarind seeds”, or even the white of an egg.

Sourcing his inspiration from Kalighat painting, he even abandoned the canvas and started painting on indigenous painting surfaces — such as cloth, woven mats, and wood coated with lime.

The paintings that Jamini made received worldwide recognition. The Firstpost report states that JBS Haldane (Sir William Dunn Reader in Biochemistry at Cambridge University in the 1920s) and his sisters Naomi Mitichison said, “How is it that Jamini Roy’s pictures are so simple, but you go on looking at for years and don’t get tired.”

By 1940, the popularity of his works soared and his paintings were becoming prized possessions in both Bengali and European households. As Roy drew his common people, he wanted his art to be accessible to the common folks.

While his popularity was reaching the skies, he never sold his paintings for more than Rs 350, The Print reports. Out of the 20,000 pieces he made in his lifetime, his only goal was that his paintings reach those he drew inspiration from.

“But on gaining international recognition, Roy’s paintings ended up being sold upwards of $10,000, and sometimes, even for a fortune. Take a look at the price tags that a British collector once slapped on three of Roy’s paintings — Christ with the Cross estimated at £8,000–£12,000, an untitled painting estimated at £6,000–£8,000, and Santal Drummers estimated at £8,000–£12,000,” an article in The Print states.

In 1955, Roy was awarded the Padma Bhushan to honour his work. After his death, at the age of 85, on 24 April, 1972, the Ministry of Culture declared him one of the “nine masters” whose work was considered to be a national treasure.

Still an eyeful to art lovers

Even after his death, Roy continues to be a popular point of discussion among art lovers. He is often considered to be one of the earliest modernists in India.

His artwork still continues to be displayed both nationally and internationally. Some of his famous works consist of Gopini, Santhal Dancers, Mother and Child, Krishna Balram, Standing Woman, Cat and the Lobster, Three Pujarans, and his most famous work, Ramayana — a painting spread across 17 canvases tracing the entire epic.

Recently, his 75-year-old home was undertaken by DAG to be converted into a museum. The move will in the truest sense make his work and life available to the common man.

The museum, according to DAG, will be equipped with state-of-the-art galleries to house the permanent collection — as well as rotating exhibitions, community spaces like a resource centre and a library, art workshops and event spaces, as well as a museum shop and cafe.

The interior of the building will be restored, and the museum will be built on an area of 7,284 sq ft spread across three floors, a courtyard with outhouse and terrace spaces, reports the Hindustan Times.

Arkamitra Roy, great-granddaughter of Jamini Roy, in a statement to PTI, said, “I have grown up hearing my mother’s stories and memories of her grandfather and his art and his discipline and the way his studio was his temple.”

“We are delighted that DAG is sharing the legacy of my great grandfather’s house as well as his art practice with the people of Bengal and art lovers everywhere. He always wanted his art to reach the people and this is the ideal way to pay homage to him,” she said.

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

Sources:

Kolkata house of veteran artist Jamini Roy to be turned into museum: DAG: by PTI, Published on 29 March 2023

Jamini Roy, one of India’s ‘national treasures’ who never sold paintings for more than Rs 350: by Pia Krishnankutty for The Print, Published on 24 April 2020 

Jamini Roy: by Cultural India for Cultural India

Tracing Jamini Roy’s evolution as a painter, from Western styles to indigenous forms: by Ashok Neg for First Post, published on 9 December 2021

A journey to the roots of Jamini Roy’s art: by Samrat Chakrabarty for The Hindu, published on 9 June 2015.

Hundreds of martyrs from the Northeastern states await their share of appreciation in popular discourse. Among them is Kanaklata Barua, an Assamese freedom fighter who laid down her life at the age of 17 to hoist the tricolour. 

To give tribute to her outstanding sacrifice, the Government of India commissioned a coast guard ship in her name in 2020. Lost in the pages of history, here is the story of the teenage martyr. 

Always a patriot 

Kanaklata Barua was born to Krishna Kanta Barua and Korneshwari Barua on 22nd December, 1924 in the village of Barangabari of Gohpur sub-division of Sonitpur district in Assam. Born to a farming family, Barua’s struggles started at a very young age. Her mother died when she was only five years old. Later on, her father remarried, but passed away a couple of years later. By the time Barua was 13, she was orphaned and left to fend for herself and her siblings. She dropped out of school to raise them. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the nation was well into her freedom for struggle — the horrors of the Jaliawalah Bagh massacre of 1919 ignited sparks of agitation all over. In 1920, Gandhi began the Non-Cooperation Movement and encouraged Indians to give up cooperation with the British government in their fight towards self-governance. Kanaklata was born amid this time, which, though turbulent, had fanned the winds of nationalistic sentiment across India. 

As per an article in Feminism in India, Barua was determined from a young age to join India’s freedom struggle. At first, she tried to join the Azad Hind Fauj, or the Indian National Army, a group of armed forces under the command of Subhash Chandra Bose. She wanted to be in the first line of defence and fight for the country. However, her plea was rejected on the grounds of her being a minor. This did not shake her determination, and she later joined Mrityu Bahini – a death/suicide squad.

Mrityu Bahini was founded by Pushpalata Das, the wife of Gandhi follower Omeo Kumar Das. She did so to include the women of undivided Darrang district in the freedom movement. While the Bahini only consisted of adults, Barua’s zeal and enthusiasm got her a ticket in. 

The report by Feminism in India states, “She was under 18 years when she joined Mrityu Bahini. She was granted membership because of her zeal to serve the country. She was subsequently made the leader of the women cadres of Mrityu Bahini.” 

The 17-year-old leader of a ‘death squad’ 

On the fateful day of 20 September 1942, Barua decided to unfurl the tricolour flag at the Gohpur police station. The Print noted, “Barua led a group of nearly 5,000 unarmed people to hoist the national flag. The police in charge asked them to back off, or he would start firing.”

When Rebati Mahan Som, who was in-charge of the police station, asked Barua and her followers to stop, Barua replied — “You do your duty and I’ll do mine,” and marched on.

The procession started to march forward and the police started firing. Barua, being the leader of the squad, was holding the flag and leading the procession. 

“The 17-year-old freedom fighter was shot dead from point-blank range following a squabble with police personnel. Barua, however, made sure the flag did not fall to the ground and did not let go until another volunteer, Mukunda Kakoti, took it from her. Both Barua and Kakoti succumbed to bullet injuries that day,” reports The Print. 

Their sacrifice, however, did not go in vain. The tricolour was hoisted at the police station that day, adding more fuel to the movement. 

Her name lives on 

Although an unheard-of name in the history books, Barua with her supreme sacrifice became a symbol of womanhood and patriotism in Assamese history. “Her story of grit and gallantry has a legendary status in Assam — from schools being named after her to a life-size statue that adorns a park in the state,” states The Print. 

Her story was retold in Chandra Mudoi’s film Epaah Phulil Epaah Xoril. The Hindi version of the same, titled Purab Ki Awaz was also released in 2017. 

As recent as 2020, an  Indian Coast Guard’s newly commissioned ship — ICGS Kanaklata Barua, was named after the teenage freedom fighter in Kolkata. The ship, a fifth in a series of fast patrol vessels (FPV), is suitable for patrolling, maritime surveillance, anti-smuggling, anti-poaching operations, fishery protection, as well as rescue and search missions. It has been built by the state-owned Garden Reach Shipbuilders and Engineers Limited. 

Kanaklata Barua, the teenager who died for her country, might not be found as easily in the general history books. But her sacrifice is fresh in the hearts of many Assameses.

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

Sources:
Kanaklata Barua: The Forgotten Teen Freedom Fighter: by By Indrani Talukdar for Feminism in India, Published on 14 March 2019.
New Coast Guard ship honours teen patriot from Assam: by Mythili Hazarika for The Print, Published on 4 October 2020.
Kanaklata Barua: The historical woman from Assam: by Major Kulbir Singh for Young Bites, Published on 13 September 2017. Digital District Repository Detail: by Government of India for Azadi Ka Amrit Mahotsav, Published on 30 August 2022.

We write it down on a piece of paper, compile it in a book and call it history. But history, more often than not, is forgotten. And along with it, are the people who shaped our past, in a way, our future. 

So when I googled Sardar KM Panikkar, it was evident to me that as the pages of history turned, his work had faded over the years. On deeper research, I found that these pages tried to describe him in a few words — “He was the first president of the Kerala Sahitya Academy”. But was he just another writer and an appreciator of poetics, or are we forgetting something? 

A life well lived

Panikkar was born and brought up in Travancore, then a princely state in British India, to Puthillathu Parameswaran Namboodiri and Chalayil Kunjikutti Kunjamma. A multilingual writer, statesman, educationist, diplomat, journalist and independent India’s first ambassador to China, Panikkar is one of the greatest hands in shaping modern India. 

After completing his education at Madras and the University of Oxford, he worked as a professor at Aligarh Muslim University and later at the University of Calcutta. Soon, he found his calling elsewhere and became the editor of the Hindustan Times in 1925.

A historian at heart, he wrote numerous books such as Malabar and the Portuguese (1929) and Malabar and the Dutch (1931). Jawaharlal Nehru recommended his book Asia and Western Domination and Krishna Menon said, “He can write a history book in half an hour which I could not write in six years.” 

He was an appreciator of poetry and languages, and took an interest in Malayalam poetry at a very early age, using the Dravidian metre. He keenly spoke about the importance of Dravidian languages for Indian culture. In 1956, he became the first president of the Kerala Sahitya Academy. 

After India gained independence, Panikkar was among the members of the first Indian delegation to the UN under the leadership of Vijay Laxmi Pandit. He was appointed as independent India’s first ambassador to China and subsequently to Egypt in 1952. 

Always a patriot working with the government, his life seemed to be leading up to the point where he strategically saved at least a thousand refugees crossing the border during the Partition. 

‘Sardar’ who saved thousands of refugees

When India finally gained independence, there was lingering hope of freedom, growth and a brighter future. But what also followed was a country left divided, and days of horror. 

In his book In Two Chinas, Panikkar gave a detailed description of his last days in Bikaner as Secretary to the Chamber of Princes, before he was called to serve as Ambassador. “To the north and east of it (Bikaner) lay East Punjab where Hindus and Sikhs had joined hands against the Muslims and were indulging in murder, loot and arson.” 

“To the west of it lay Bahawalpur in Pakistan, where on one single day five thousand Hindus have been massacred,” he wrote, adding that the chaos on both sides led to a massive influx of Hindu and Sikh refugees fleeing Pakistan and coming to Bikaner.

The Muslim population living in Bikaner was terrified too. “They were not scared of the refugees, but of the vengeful Sikhs who lived in the neighbouring Ganga Nagar.” 

Panikkar had made up his mind to do something about the situation. On occasions of great distress, the human brain is capable of doing unimaginable things. Purely out of humanity, he decided his course of action to save those innocent refugees. 

He recalled, “I was well aware that if I did not stop the conflagration on the borders of Bikaner and prevent it from spreading, it could not be stopped and would reach as far as Bombay with consequences which no one could foresee.”

He was scared of arousing any communal misunderstandings in the land of Rajasthan, where history has witnessed numerous attacks on Rajput kingdoms by Muslim invaders by trying to save Muslim refugees. But he decided to go ahead. 

Threading on volatile grounds, Panikkar writes, “I was determined at all costs to prevent the trouble spreading into Bikaner, not merely because of humanitarian considerations, but because I was well aware of the consequences of arousing the dormant anti-Muslim feeling of the Rajputs, and I knew that if there was the least weakening on my part, Rajputana would repeat, perhaps in an exaggerated form, the terrible history of Punjab.” 

With the support of Maharaja Sadul Singh, he sent the princely army to Ganga Nagar for inspection and issued a warning. The army was given orders to shoot the rioters and the civil authorities were permitted to impose collective fines on communities indulging in violence. 

Even with these measures in place, he feared that violence would break, as tensions rose in Punjab and New Delhi. 

With the centre overburdened with an influx of refugees, his requests for help fell on deaf ears. He decided to take matters into his own hands. “I decided to escort the refugees across the state, partly by special trains over the Bikaner State Railway and partly on foot across the sands of Bikaner,” he wrote. 

The decision did not sit well with the violent mob, but he had the full support of the Maharaja. 

The first convoy reached Pakistan without a single person being harmed. “Taking courage, I then ordered a second convoy, this time on foot with only a Police escort, to march across the state,” he writes. 

Thousands of women, men and children undertook this 350 km on foot and crossed the desert. “When this weary procession also reached Pakistan, I heaved a sigh of relief,” Panikkar writes in his book. 

The Partition left a deep scar on the diplomat’s life. He went to New York as part of India’s delegation to the United Nations General Assembly, which subsequently kicked off his career as a diplomat for India. 

Recalling the days of Partition, he writes, “Inhuman cruelty, deliberate massacres and large-scale relapse into atavistic barbarism, which were displayed on both sides.”

Panikkar died in 1963, while serving as a vice chancellor at Mysore University, due to heart failure. But his brave act shaped a remarkable legacy. 

So the next time we read about him, history will hopefully also remember him as the ‘Sardar’ who went to great lengths to preserve something precious — fellow humans. 

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

Sources:

K.M. Panikkar, a Historian for Our Times: by Archishman Raju for The Wire, Published on 20 June 2020.

Sardar K.M. Panikkar: The Profile of a Historian (A Study in Modern Indian Historiography): by Banerjee, Tarasankar for the Archaeological Survey of India, New Delhi, Published on 26 November 2019.

A salute to smaller states: by Ramachandra Guha for The Hindu, Published on 9 May 2004.

Sardar KM Panikkar : A Maritime Visionary: by TP Sreenivasan for Chanakya Forum, Published on 28 March 2022.

Sardar KM Panikkar – saviour of thousands of Partition refugee: by Ajay Kamalakaran for Onmanorama, Published on 23 August 2021.

It is said that while the Rajputs were establishing their reign over Mewar, the baati was a favourite meal for the nourishment it gave them and its ease of preparation. They would bury chunks of dough in the sand, leave them to bake, and then eat the baked chunks post-war with some curd. 

The second element, the dal evolved during the Gupta empire when the royal courts prepared a mix of five lentils. The panchmel dal comprised moong dal, chana dal, toor dal, masoor dal and urad dal along with a fragrant tempering of cumin, cloves and other spices.

As for the churma and how it came to be, you will be surprised to learn that it was a result of serendipity! But we’ll let you watch the video to find out exactly how. 

The baked baati with spicy panchmel dal and sweet crumbly churma has been popular throughout Rajasthan, and eventually India as a whole, with several versions erupting through history. 

Here’s a glimpse into how this dish made its way into the hearts of Indians: 

From the first female engineer to the linguist who gave the world novels to remember her by, these stalwarts have shaped the country into a region of prosperity, inspiration, and growth, knowingly and unknowingly creating a nation that others have looked on to for decades. 

Here’s recalling 10 such Indians who paved the way for generations: 

1. A stalwart in cricket 

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Recalled in history as the man who led India to her first Test win in cricket, Vijay Hazare came from the town of Sangli in Maharashtra and made his Ranji Trophy debut in the year 1934-35. He left his mark on Indian cricket when he scored an unbeaten 316 for Maharashtra against Pune in 1939–40.⁠⁠

History celebrates Hazare for his captaincy during the first test match ever won by India. Along with this feat, he is also credited for being the man who led the country to continue the sport even in the turmoil of World War II. 

2. A ray of hope for cancer patients 

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At the Adyar Cancer Institute in Chennai, Dr V. Shanta was a usual sight, tending to cancer patients with care and compassion. Inspired by Dr Muthulakshmi Reddy, the first woman medical graduate in the country, Dr Shanta studied medicine and was motivated to specialise in cancer. 

From a budding oncologist to a cancer crusader and chairperson of the Adyar Cancer Institute, Dr Shanta came a long way. She believed that a lack of awareness and a sense of complacency borne out of fear is behind the escalating number of cancer cases, particularly those of women suffering from cervical and breast cancer.⁠⁠

In 2006, she was awarded the prestigious Padma Bhushan for her exemplary work. 

3. A beacon of women’s empowerment 

Justice Fathima Beevi’s life was a list of firsts — the first woman to be appointed a Supreme Court Justice of India, the first Muslim woman in Higher Judiciary and the first woman to become a Supreme Court Justice in an Asian country.

When spoken to about these accomplishments in interviews, Justice Beevi was quoted saying, “I have opened the door”, referring to the path she had paved for women to shine in fields that were often considered male-dominated. ⁠

⁠On retirement from the court, Justice Beevi served as a member of the National Human Rights Commission. 

4. The first female engineer

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A pioneer in both engineering as well as equality and education, Ayyalasomayajula Lalitha wore many capes. An interesting anecdote that showcases her iron grit is when, following the death of her husband four months after she gave birth to a little girl, Lalitha decided that she wouldn’t be a depressed widow. Instead, she pursued the path of engineering, becoming the first female electrical engineer in the country. 

In 1964, she was elected as a full member of the Council of the Institution of Electrical Engineers and following this was the only female engineer attendee of the First International Conference of Women Engineers and Scientists (ICWES) held in New York. Following her death in 1979, her daughter Syamala followed in her footsteps, going on to study and teach maths and science.

5. A compassionate king 

Throughout history, India has held regard for her kings. In the dynasty eras, kings were bestowed with respect and reverence for the way they commanded their people and their ruling styles. But one such Maharaja was applauded and loved for more than just the way he ruled. 

Jayachamaraja Wadiyar, also the last Maharaja of the Mysuru kingdom, ascended the throne in 1990. Among the many reforms he brought about, there were educational institutions, the Philharmonia Orchestra, and grants for various irrigation and power projects. 

He went on to serve as the first chairman of the Indian Wildlife Board.⁠ 

6. An athlete with a grit of steel 

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When Mary D’souza Sequeira became one of India’s first female Olympians at the 1952 Olympics, the world cheered. She was often quoted for her saying, “Sports is not just about medals and winning. It teaches you how to win and lose in the game of life. I have had many challenges, and my sports experience has taught me to treat each day as another game and take life’s hurdles in my stride.”⁠

What very few know is that aside from the incredible skill that she displayed in sports, Mary also had perseverance. 

When she participated in the 1952 Helsinki Olympics and was selected as part of India’s first female contingent, the government fell short of funds to send her on a chartered flight. ⁠However, Mary was not one to give up easily. She raised funds for the participation fees by organising a dance competition and went on to participate in the tournament. 

7. A linguistic marvel 

Among the many talents that Toru Dutt offered the world were her linguistic works. These included novel Le Journal de Mademoiselle d’Arvers (published posthumously in 1879), the first novel in French by an Indian writer, novel Bianca (thought to be the first novel in English by an Indian woman writer) and an unfinished volume of original poems in English and Sanskrit translations.⁠⁠

This Bengali writer is considered to be the first Indian poetess to write in French and English. 

8. The beacon of the Tata family 

When Jamsetji started a trading company with only Rs 21,000, he did not know the empire he would be presiding over one day. From the year 1880 to his death in 1904, Jamsetji was consumed by three ideas — setting up an iron and steel company, generating hydroelectric power, and creating a world-class educational institution that would tutor Indians in the sciences. ⁠⁠

A visionary and founder of India’s biggest conglomerate, Jamsetji’s endeavours to build the Tata group put India on the map of industrialised countries. 

9. A star on and off screen 

Jayalalithaa, went on to be a megastar in Southern cinema with a career spanning three decades. It all started with her first movie Chinnada Gombe in 1964, which was a hit. From then on it was a series of highs for the prodigy. 

While off-screen, she would fascinate onlookers with her Bharatnatyam and Kathak performances. She was also well-versed with Manipuri dance and western classical piano. Jayalalithaa became the highest-paid Indian actress from 1964-1980 for the stellar performances she delivered. 

10. Penning excellence 

Contemporary writer and novelist Vinod Kumar Shukla has given the world some memorable works, including novels such as Deewar Mein Ek Khidki Rehti Thi and Naukar Ki Kameez. Celebrated for his style, which is usually focused on magic realism, Shukla went on to win the prestigious Sahitya Akademi Award in 1999. 

This year, Shukla was cited as the winner of the PEN/Nabokov Award for Achievement in International Literature for the outstanding body of work that he delivered throughout his career. 

Edited by Divya Sethu

Inspired by the calls of freedom from British rule, Subba Rao was scribbling ‘Quit India’ on street walls in the city when he was arrested by the colonial police. After spending a day in police custody, he was released thanks to his father, a lawyer, and the fact that he was just 13. 

The arrest, however, didn’t diminish his desire to fight for India’s freedom. He became an active participant in the Students Congress and took part in various programmes organised by the Seva Dal, the grassroots front organisation of the Indian National Congress. In school, he was inspired by the teachings of Gandhi, and even became an advocate for khadi wear.           

Post-Independence, Subba Rao, who was popularly known as ‘Bhai Ji’ (respected brother) by his friends and followers, would go on to spread the ideals of national integration, communal harmony and Gandhian thought in different corners of India, including the once-dreaded Chambal Valley, where he led efforts to help more than 650 dacoits not only surrender their arms, but also reintegrate with mainstream society.   

Born into service 

Born on 7 February 1929, SN Subba Rao attended the Ramakrishna Vedanta College in Malleshwaram, where he sang devotional songs at the age of 10 alongside his three brothers. His father, Nanjudaiah, was a lawyer known in the city for “refusing unjust cases” according to his biography listed on the Dr SN Subba Rao Foundation website.  

Inspired by his father and ideals of Mahatma Gandhi, he quickly took to a life of service. Under the banner of Gandhi Sahitya Sangha (previously known as Gandhi Seva Sangha) — a historical library established by students under the aegis of accomplished Kannada author Siddavanahalli Krishna Sharma in Bangalore in 1942 to promote Gandhian values — Subba Rao organised an adult education programme in mohallas (colonies) where ordinary labourers resided.   

Over time, he grew more popular among his peers for his organisational skills, and soon found himself selected for a 31-day Seva Dal training camp at Gurlhosur (Belgaum district) in 1946. Here, the emphasis was on physical training and working towards promoting communal amity. Two years later, Subba Rao met his mentor Dr NS Hardiker, a freedom fighter and founder of the Seva Dal, during another such camp in Chitradurga.   

After graduating with a degree in law, Subba Rao joined the Seva Dal headquarters on the invitation of Dr Hardikar in 1951. Although this stint was only meant to last one year, he went on to work from the organisation’s headquarters on 7, Jantar Mantar Road, New Delhi. Through the Seval Dal, he was “organising  youth camps all over India with tremendous success and popularity amongst young men and women.” His work won him admirers like Jawaharlal Nehru.     

Hopping on the Chambal express

In 1969, as the country was celebrating the ‘Gandhi Centenary’ (Mahatma Gandhi was born in 1869), Subba Rao was nominated as director of the ‘Gandhi Darshan Train’. 

Essentially, these were two trains (one on metre gauge and the other on broad gauge) equipped with audio-video materials on the life of the Mahatma. Launched in 1969, they went on a year-long journey across the length and breadth of India, reaching the remotest stations to give millions of Indians an insight into the life and work of the great freedom fighter. 

According to the Dr SN Subba Rao Foundation website, these trains also “acted as a medium for lakhs of volunteers in the country for promoting constructive work”. Thanks to his sterling work as director of the ‘Gandhi Darshan Train’ and on the request of a union minister, Subba Rao became a lifetime member of ‘Gandhi Peace Foundation’ in 1970. 

With the money he received as honorarium for working as director of ‘Gandhi Darshan Train’, he founded the Mahatma Gandhi Sewa Ashram in Joura, a small township in Morena district, Madhya Pradesh, located in the heart of the Chambal Valley on 27 September 1970. 

His decision to set up an ashram there stemmed from his visit in 1954, when he realised the need for a “constructive educational module” for Chambal’s youth. 

In fact, a decade later in 1964, the Gandhian activist had organised a 10-month-long social and educational camp in Joura with young women and men from all over the country participating in it. Five years later, he organised a series of youth camps (Shram Shibirs) in the Chambal valley, where among other activities, the local youth built a series of important roads.  

As his foundation website notes:

It was this Ashram, which later on hosted the historic surrender of the most notorious dacoits like Mohar Singh, Madho Singh and others on 14 April 1972. These efforts were followed by the surrender of dacoits at Bateshwar (Uttar Pradesh) and Talab Shahi (Rajasthan). The Ashram worked for rehabilitation of these dacoits‘ families and the families of their victims alike.

The event in April 1972 marked the high point in the surrender of dacoits in the Chambal Valley, for which contributions also came from revered Gandhians Vinoba Bhave, Jaiprakash Narayan and other social activists on the ground. However, what Subba Rao did was to further facilitate the process of dacoits giving up their arms, rehabilitating them and their families working for their welfare and protecting the local environment alongside local youth volunteers.    

According to Ransingh Parmar, the president of Ekta Parishad, “a mass-based people’s movement for land rights with an active membership of 250,000 landless poor”, “Bhai ji, who helped bring about a change of heart in the hardened baghis [rebels or dacoits in the region] of Chambal Valley, spread his message of non-violence across the world.” 

Parmar would go on to add, “He believed that sustainable success only comes through non-violence, and he proved that through the transformation of 654 baghis, who once walked the path of violence, but surrendered their weapons inspired by Gandhi.”

On the subject of the local environment, here’s what journalist Bharat Dogra wrote, “It was felt after some time that the steady erosion of land by the Chambal resulting in formation of ravines had to be checked to protect farming and livelihoods in Chambal. To inspire people for this and to focus attention on this challenge, Subba Rao organised youth camps in which National Social Service volunteers and other students from schools and colleges, as well as other youth, camped in villages and contributed voluntary labour for reclamation of ravines.” 

Spirit of unity and communal harmony

But Subba Rao wasn’t merely interested in facilitating change in Chambal valley. He wanted to do the same in different corners of India including states like Manipur, Assam, present-day Chhattisgarh, Punjab and Tamil Nadu, amongst others, with an emphasis on the youth.  

As Parmar notes in a tribute to Subba Rao, “He tried to fulfil his life-long mission of national integration through youth camps, where he spoke about shattering the barriers created by religion, caste, language and regional divides. This is how he connected people with the common cause of unity, love, goodwill and brotherhood.” 

In this regard, he founded the National Youth Project in 1971, under whose aegis hundreds of such national level youth camps were organised even in states like Nagaland, Manipur, Meghalaya, Tripura, Arunachal Pradesh, Sikkim, Ladakh, Lakshadweep and Andaman. 

Subba Rao also organised similar camps in areas affected by communal riots like Bhagalpur, Godhra, Kanpur, Aligarh, Mumbai, Ahmedabad, Jammu and Kashmir, etc. What particularly helped him in his mission was the ability to speak and even sing in 18 languages recognised by the Constitution. He often used the medium of songs to connect with young people. 

Fast forward to 1993-94, the Gandhian activist collaborated with the Government of India to launch the ‘Sadbhavana Rail Yatra’ over 12 months, touring the length and breadth of the country.

According to the Jamnalal Bajaj Foundation, “More than 2500 young men and women from 26 States of India and a few from outside, speaking different languages, with different religious faiths and political views, and coming from different strata of society, lived together for 12 months as members of the same family, transcending all differences. Their mission was to spread the message of love, peace, friendship, communal harmony and world peace. Bhaiji has [also] travelled all over the world to conduct Gandhi youth camps.”

For his incredible service, the Gandhian social activist won many accolades including the Padma Shri, Karnataka Government’s Mahatma Gandhi Seva Award, Shanti Doot International Award and Jamnalal Bajaj Puraskar, etc. He passed away on 27 October 2021 after a prolonged illness in Jaipur. 

According to Candian educationist Jill Carr Harris, who knew ‘Bhai Ji’ well and attended his funeral at his ashram in Joura, “Hundreds of people travelled from all over India to remember their beloved ‘Bhai ji’..The face was visible in the bed of marigolds with the Indian flag draped over  his chest….It was striking how he was portrayed: a man so simple, like a saint with few needs and possessions, yet unafraid to confront the most difficult of situations.”

What’s also interesting about her account is the tribute former dacoits paid. As she recalled, “With a half a dozen long-moustached baghis giving their tearful stories to the crowd, an authentic portrayal of the man came to be seen. Bhai Ji’s presence brought out their humanness and enabled them to become purveyors of peace after they were released from prison.” 

“Hardened dacoits that find a way to transform themselves must have brought to the minds of many, how this can be applied with terrorist groups in different countries today. It gave an article of faith that the cycle of violence can be broken and that violent incidents can be pre-empted and peaceful coexistence brought into existence,” added Jill Carr Harris.

For about 70 years, Subba Rao trained and taught millions of young Indians how to overcome communal divide, resolve conflict and find peace through the medium of social service. Through his thousands of youth camps, he gave voice to the spirit of Mahatma Gandhi. 

(Edited by Divya Sethu; Images courtesy Wikimedia Common/Ekta Parishad)

Sources:

Dr SN Subba Rao Foundation

‘S.N.Subba Rao—the Gandhian Known for Surrender of Dacoits and Inspirational Youth Camps Is No More’ by Bharat Dogra; Published on 28 October 2021 courtesy Counter Currents

‘Remembering Subba Rao ji…’ courtesy Ekta Parishad

‘Jailed at 13, S N Subbarao went on to rehabilitate 600 dacoits in Chambal valley’ by Kaushal Kishore; Published on 7 February 2023 courtesy The Print

Jamnalal Bajaj Foundation

In 1937, Ayyalasomayajula Lalitha faced the daunting task of raising her four-month-old daughter after losing her husband. As an 18-year-old widow, she was expected to conform to a life of isolation and perpetual sorrow, but the forward-thinker chose to defy societal norms.

Instead of succumbing to the societal pressures of widowhood — shaved head, a strictly restricted life, and banishment from society — she decided to pursue a career in engineering, a male-dominated field at the time.

This decision would, later on, make Lalitha India’s first female engineer.

The path she traversed

Born in 1919 in a middle-class Telugu family in Chennai, A Lalitha was the fifth of seven siblings. Her brothers had become engineers, while her sisters were limited to basic education. Despite being married off at the age of 15, her father believed in her education and ensured she completed her studies up to Class 10.

Her daughter, Syamala Chenulu, who now lives in the United States, said, “When my father passed away, mom had to suffer more than she should have. Her mother-in-law had lost her 16th child and took out that frustration on the young widow. It was a coping mechanism and today, I understand what she was going through. However, my mother decided not to succumb to societal pressures. She would educate herself and earn a respectable job.”

Lalitha did not want to be a doctor, as medicine requires professionals to be available around the clock. So she chose to become an engineer like her father Pappu Subba Rao and her brothers.

Rao, a professor of Electrical Engineering at the College of Engineering, Guindy (CEG), University of Madras, spoke to K C Chacko, the principal of the college and to the director of Public Instruction, R M Statham. Both officials were supportive of admitting a woman, a first in CEG’s history.

“Contrary to what people might think, the students at amma’s college were extremely supportive. She was the only girl in a college with hundreds of boys, but no one ever made her feel uncomfortable; we need to give credit to this. I used to live with my uncle while amma was completing college; she would visit me every weekend,” Syamala said.

But a few months into the college, Lalitha started feeling lonely in the hostel and conveyed this to her father. Rao took this as a sign to invite more women to the college and opened up the admissions. That’s how Leelamma George and P K Thresia soon joined in, but for the civil engineering course.

She worked for a brief period with the Central Standard Organisation in Shimla. Later, she also worked with her father in Chennai, assisting him in inventing Jelectromonium, an electrical musical instrument, an electric flame producer, and smokeless ovens. But within nine months of joining her father’s workshop, Lalitha took up a job in the Associated Electrical Industries in Kolkata.

The pioneering spirit that did not end with her degree

Lalitha continued to make significant contributions to her field throughout her life. In her 20-year career, she worked for several organisations, including the Central Standard Organisation, Associated Electrical Industries, and the Indian Standards Institution. She also served as a consultant to the United Nations on engineering projects in Sri Lanka, Nepal, and Bangladesh.

Apart from her professional career, she was also involved in several women’s organisations — including the All India Women’s Conference and the National Federation of Indian Women. She was a vocal advocate for women’s rights and gender equality, and believed that women should have equal access to education and employment opportunities. She worked tirelessly to promote these ideals.

Lalitha was eventually recognised for her contributions to the field of engineering and women’s rights. She was also invited to attend the First International Conference of Women Engineers and Scientists at the 1964 New York World’s Fair, where she represented India. Here’s where she had very famously said, “150 years ago, I would have been burned at the funeral pyre with my husband’s body.”

Syamala says that it was during this conference that she realised the importance of her mother’s influence on people, especially women, around the world.

“But what I take from her life is her extreme patience towards people and the quality of doing instead of just talking. She never remarried and never made me feel the absence of a father in my life. She believed that people come into your life for a reason and leave when the purpose is over. I never asked her why she never got married again. But when my husband asked her, she replied, ‘To take care of an old man again? No, thank you!’”

Edited by Divya Sethu

Dry fruits and sweet khoya (thickened milk solids) stuffing makes these dumplings crispy, flaky and delicious.

There are many theories that reflect what led to the origin of these dumplings.

One of them suggests there is a Turkish connection to the delicacy that has been relished by Indians for ages. The earliest mention of it dates back to the 13th century when a jaggery-honey mixture was covered with wheat flour and then, sun-dried.

So it is assumed that guijiya may have been derived from Turkey’s baklava — a layered buttery flaky dessert soaked in honey and sugar. This puff pastry is filled with tender pistachios stuffed between layers of dough.

The Turks considered baklava a dessert for the wealthy, and the Sultan considered it a special gift.

Another theory suggests that gujiya could be a sweet replica of samosa, a fried spicy snack widely relished in the country today. These stuffed triangles or sambuca reached India through the Middle East.

Interestingly, when you look at the moon-shaped and deep-fried delicacy with its sweet stuffing of dry fruits, the above theories seem true. And so, it could be fair to say that the humble gujiya has traversed a long way through centuries and different countries before it became famous in the Indian kitchen.

Meanwhile, in India itself, several regional cuisines feature dishes similar to this Holi delicacy, but with different fillings.

In Bihar, it’s known as pedakiya, ghughra in Gujarat, karanji in Maharashtra, somas in Tamil Nadu, garijalu in Telangana, kajjikayalu in Andhra Pradesh, karjikayi or karigadubu in Karnataka.

If you too want to relish this sweet during Holi, here’s a tempting recipe of mawa gujiya that serves four persons.

Gujiya Recipe

Ingredients:

Khoya crumbled – 2/3 cup

Refined flour – 1 cup

Ghee – 3 teaspoons

Dried figs chopped – 1/2 cup

Seedless dates chopped – 1/2 cup

Cashewnuts chopped – 10

Almonds chopped – 10

Walnuts chopped – 10

Oil to deep fry

Method:

Step 1

To make the pastry, sift the flour into a bowl. Rub in the ghee with your fingertips till the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Now, add one-fourth cup and one tablespoon of cold water and knead it into a stiff dough. Cover the dough with a damp muslin cloth and set aside for 15 minutes.

Step 2

To make the filling, heat a non-stick pan. Add the khoya and saute for 3 minutes or till the fat separates. Now, set aside the mixture to cool. Add the figs, dates, cashew nuts, almonds, and walnuts to the mixture.

Step 3

Divide the dough into twelve equal portions and shape it into circular balls. Flatten these balls using a rolling pin and board.

Step 4

Place one portion of the stuffing on one half of the flattened dough, lightly moisten the edges, and fold the other half over the stuffing. Press the edges to seal. Pinch the edges to make a design.

Step 5

Heat sufficient oil in a non-stick pan, and gently slide in a few gujiyas at a time. Deep-fry for five to six minutes till they turn golden brown.

Step 6

Take the deep-fried gujiyas out from the pan, and drain the extra oil on absorbent paper. Store them in an airtight container when completely cold.

Enjoy the scrumptious gujiyas, but try not to overeat…Happy Holi!

(Edited by Pranita Bhat)

Sources

The Story Behind Gujiya, A Popular Sweet Eaten On Holi: by Anuj Tiwari, Published on 17 March 2022.

Holi 2022: History Of Gujiya And Its Turkish Connection: by Aanchal Mathur, Published on 2 March 2023.

How to make Mawa Gujiya by Sanjeev Kapoor.

In a few hours, the painting will be complete — a riot of colour bringing alive a certain traditional folk tale. The beautiful masterpiece will be one among the numerous manifestations of the eponymous Mithila art or as it is more popularly known, Madhubani art.

Today, the art form has travelled from the city walls and mud houses of Bihar to canvases and objects that find a place in big cities, palaces, and even overseas.

The reason for the art form’s overnight popularity lies in its unique discovery.

Beauty in the ruins

In 1934, Nepal and parts of Northern Bihar were victims of a terrible earthquake of 8.0 magnitude. As the destructive tremors ripped the city apart and its residents scrambled to survive, the houses tumbled like decks of cards, leaving behind a cascade of ruins.

Assessing the damage was a British civil service officer, William Archer, who had been posted as the Magistrate in Madhubani just a year prior. The locals knew him as the officer who saw to law and order and often settled their petty disputes.

As Archer made his way into the city, attempting to make sense of the ruins left behind by the calamity, he spotted something in the mess, that caught his eye. This in decades to come would be known as the moment that caused Mithila art to reach the world.

Archer’s diary discovered later sheds light on the exact storyline.

In 1934 an 8.0 magnitude earthquake shattered parts of Nepal and India. Among the worst affected was Northern Bihar. From the horrors of the region, however, a British Civil Servant spotted something magical. A thread on how Mithila art came to light. 1/19 pic.twitter.com/6pnTHhY2df

— The Paperclip (@Paperclip_In) February 6, 2023

He writes, “I had ridden out one evening to a village close to Madhubani itself and chanced upon a small white temple. The mahant (priest) invited me to see the image. It was a black stone dressed in doll-like clothes. The houses had been severely damaged yet not so damaged that none were standing. I could see beyond the courtyards into some of the inner rooms; what I saw took my breath away.”

Archer then refers to the murals he witnessed painted on the walls.

“What I was seeing was a marriage chamber, a kobhar. It was here that the bride and bridegroom would be espoused and everything painted was designed to bring them prosperity, good fortune and fertility.”

This, as the world would one day see, was Archer’s first encounter with the famed Mithila art. But as he delved deeper into this area, what astounded him was how different the art form was across households.

As he further writes, “The style of their murals was quite distinct. It presupposed the same liberties, the same repudiation of truth to natural appearances, and the same determination to project a forceful idea of a subject rather than a factual record. But in contrast to Brahmins, Kayastha women were vehement — they portrayed their main subject with shrill boldness, with savage forcefulness”.

“I must confess that for at least an hour, I forgot the earthquake and its horrors. I was entranced by what I saw in these murals we somehow electrically met. What they took for granted, I considered superb…the art was there and made us one…I saw the beauty in the mud.”

From Bihar to the world

Archer was intent on having the world know of this wondrous art form and published a paper in 1949 wherein he highlighted what he saw. But it did not yet manage to grab as many eyeballs as he would like.

So, in 1966 he approached Pupul Jayakar, the then-head of the All India Handloom Board asking her to get in touch with the Brahmin and Kayastha families. The idea was to record a video showcasing the Mithila art. Unfortunately, this plan too remained unsuccessful.

But zealous to see the Mithila art get the recognition it deserved, Jayakar got in touch with Mumbai artist Bhaskar Kulkarni. The duo began training local women of Jitwarpur and Ranti villages in transferring the Mithila art to paper.

The first paintings saw the light of day in 1967 during an exhibition in New Delhi. From there, they went to foreign shores such as Japan, Europe, USSR and the US in 1970.

The Mithila art had got her global stage.

Throughout history, many celebrated filmmakers, journalists and celebrities have carried the baton of the art form to global stages. These include the likes of Erika Moser, a German anthropologist and filmmaker, Yves Vequaud a French journalist and filmmaker, and Raymond Owens an American anthropologist.

They would buy paintings of Mithila art from the locals, sell them in the US and return profits to these artisans.

The question remains, what is so amazing about art that once people set eyes on it, they can’t look away?

A love story of paints

It is postulated that the art form originated in the 7th century BCE when King Janak commissioned these paintings to be done to commemorate the marriage of his daughter Sita to Lord Rama.

The geometric patterns are interspersed with flora and fauna drawings along with depictions of the sun, moon and other natural and celestial elements.

The dyes used are obtained from natural materials — black from cow dung, blue from indigo, white from rice powder and bright colours from flower petals. Care is taken to not leave any empty spaces in the drawing.

As the women in Bihar gather to paint their walls, the city has never looked brighter.

Sources

Mithila Art: Reincarnated from the rubbles of an earthquake by Rajesh Kumar. 

Madhubani Art: History, Themes and Characteristics by Misha Jaiswal, Published on 21 March 2021.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

At present, when people gather at the banks of the Mahanadi river, float paper boats and sing songs, it is to remember and commemorate Orissa’s rich maritime history. They also light sky lanterns as a symbol of good wishes for the sailors. This festival is also associated with Tapoi. 

The legend of Tapoi comes from a very famous folk ballad. The story goes that a family of seven brothers, all of them sailors, had a beloved youngest sister. In due time, they got married. When they were abroad, the wives would mistreat their sister, and thus she yearned for them to come home. However, the wives were caught by the brothers red-handed and disowned. Tapoi thus acknowledges the family members who suffered when their loved ones went overseas.

This festival has commemorated more than a thousand years of rich maritime history, in remembrance of swashbuckling sailors who sailed to far off lands; ostensibly for trade, but mostly for the adventure and thrills of the high seas, and a chance to meet people and cultures different from their own. These sailors were awe-inspiring figures back home, and countless works of literature and folklore have been dedicated to them and their various adventures and misadventures.

Of ballads and bravery

Folklore is one of the most overlooked sources of history for several reasons, chief among them being that it is not objective. In a land like India, history was usually transmitted through word-of-mouth, through ballads, dances, folk theatre, bard stories and shlokas. Kings, sages, merchants and courtesans were eulogised and mythologised over thousands of years of continuous and chaotic history, to a point where it is difficult to sort fact from fiction. They still have their importance when we study our ancestors, however. 

Historian Supriya Sahoo stated, “Because stories create reality, stories of a people, by a people, must be taken into account for an informed understanding of each community.”

Folklore is an important signpost in the winding and confusing pathways of history and can provide various clues and insights that formal records cannot.

The Kalinga empire had always been powerful and influential and is mentioned in texts as ancient as the Ramayana. Kalinga’s grip on ocean trade was well known — in Kalidas’s monumental play Raghuvamsa, he refers to the king of Kalinga as Mohodadhipati (king of the Ocean). In fact, he is called the king of the seas in several ways in various texts — Sarala Das’s Odia Mahabharat and Yosawant Das’s Tika Govind Chandra are just a few examples. 

Travel writings, put together by poetic souls and practical merchants alike, enliven the ancient trade routes with anecdotes, stories and practical advice. Odia literature is especially rich with accounts of travel — the famous epics Lavanyavati and Vaidehi Vilasa (Upendra Bhanja) speak about voyages. 

Rasakallola by Dinakrushna Das has stories of shipwrecks by sea storms, and Kavya Parimala by Narasimha Sinha references Kalinga’s trade with Sri Lanka. The Odia version of the Mahabharata also has accounts of ship-building. Perhaps the most poignant tale related to Odisha’s rich mercantile history is, of course, the ballad of Tapoi. This ballad is not only a tender story of filial love and the pain of separation, but also a rich repository of information about the culture, customs, trading methods and widespread exposure of that time.

Why was Odisha such a maritime superpower?

The geography of Odisha’s coast is especially conducive for sea trade. There are plenty of natural harbours and deltas that were advantageous for setting up ports. An abundance of rivers, such as the Ganges, Mahanadi and Godavari, were great for bringing goods from inland far easier than by land. 

The mountains of western Odisha were also rich with precious and semi-precious stones, which were valued commodities for export. Some of India’s most bustling ports were located along the coasts of Kalinga — Tamralipti and Chandraketugarh (in modern-day West Bengal); Nanigaina (modern Puri), Katikadarma (modern Cuttack), Kannagara (modern-day Konark); and Salihundam and Dharanikotam located in modern Andhra Pradesh. 

Some of these ports had periodic rises and falls, and some endured for a long time. Some of them were used for international trade, while others were used to travel along the Indian coastline for internal trade.

Travel was mainly contingent on the strength and direction of the monsoon winds, which is why merchants set off when the monsoon winds turned to the southeast — their departure marked by the Bali Yatra. 

The routes they took are well documented in Periplus of the Erythrean Sea and the accounts of Chinese monks who came to India to study Buddhist texts. Ships from Orissa heading to Southeast Asia made a stop for picking up supplies, resting and/or trading either in Sri Lanka or in the Andaman-Nicobar islands. 

According to the account of I-Tsing, the journey from Tamralipti to the Nicobar islands took about a month. From there, they caught the southern monsoon winds and sailed across the open sea to Sumatra. From Sumatra, they had three options — sail down the coast of Sumatra, all the way to Java and Bali; trade along the coast; or cross the narrow Malacca Strait, and then either go north towards Cambodia, Vietnam, China and Japan, or south to Borneo, which was famed for its spices and a closely guarded secret by Indian merchants. 

A few Odia-Bengali merchants also travelled to the eastern coast of Africa and Rome — the west Indian ocean trade was, however, dominated more by the Tamils and the Gujaratis. It was a dangerous journey, fraught with storms and shipwrecks. But Indian merchants built cordial relationships among the locals and often settled down. A lot of them won the local kings’ favour and became advisors, or started royal dynasties themselves by marrying into royal families. The dharmic culture bought by Indians mixed in harmoniously with the local culture and became a rich tapestry that still forms the national consciousness of the modern nations of Southeast Asia.

The links that bind

There is a lot of evidence of trade between India and Southeast Asia, which was known as Suvarnabhumi (land of gold) by Indian sailors. The lands of Suvarnabhumi were fertile and the culture was rich. 

The main trade between Kalinga and Suvarnabhumi were spices, ceramics and cloth — especially Kalingam, speciality blue cotton cloth of very high quality. A lot of items were also manufactured specifically for the needs of customers abroad, which shows that some craftsmen made goods only for exports, and had a good understanding of the culture of their target markets. For example, bronze bowls with a knob at the bottom, commonly used in burial rituals in Thailand, are similar to those found in coastal Odisha as well.

Rouletted ware, for example, is a special type of ceramic that was fairly common during ancient times and has been found all along the Indian Ocean rim and Southeast Asia — all the way from Vietnam, to the coastal areas of India, to the Middle East till Rome. Arikemadu in Andhra Pradesh seems to be a major manufacturing site of such wares, and these were exported from Kalinga’s ports to Java, Vietnam, and Bali.

The semi-precious stone and beads trade was quite vigorous as well, and were mainly used in decorations and jewellery all over Asia. As with any items popular with women, large quantities of beads were exported in all directions in the Indian ocean. Glass, camelian, agate and terracotta beads of similar make and composition have been found in Odisha, Myanmar, Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines. Camelian beads are most likely to be from India, as at the time India had abundant supplies of chameleon.

Coins with the images of ships have been found all along the coasts of Bengal and Odisha. Roman coins issued by different eras of rulers, such as Constantine and Tiberius, have been found all over the east coast of India. Chinese coins, with hanzi characters and a hole, punched in the middle, have also been found in ancient commercial centres, indicating a flourishing trade with the Far East.

Indians abroad in ancient times

Indians often settled in Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia and Malaysia, with a settlement even in the important Chinese port of Guangzhou. The merchants who settled in Suvarnabhumi seamlessly merged their culture with the local people, and quickly caught the attention of kings. They gained positions of power in the administration and popularised the Hindu and Buddhist religions. Sanskrit was quickly adopted by scholars and ministers of Suvarnabhumi. I should mention that all of these exchanges of culture were not forced upon the people; they adopted religions, languages and traditions on their own and created something unique and beautiful that endures to the present day.

Pieces of pottery and seals found in Chandraketugarh have Kharosthi script on them, indicating they are from Gandhara (present-day Afghanistan). They have carvings of ships and shells on them and seem to portray the ships that set sail from the ports in the east of the subcontinent. Ashoka’s edicts also mention trade voyages from Kalinga to the East. 

Epigraphical evidence from Malaysia and Indonesia talks of a people called the Kling. There is consensus that they referred to the people of Kalinga. The tablets also mention that “the king of Kling sent twenty thousand people here. They settled and prospered well.” The Indonesian Telaga Batu inscriptions also speak of the skills and bravery of Indian sailors, such as the Puhawang (ship captains), Vaniyaga (sailors) and Sthapaka (sculptors). The word Banigrama was also used to refer to offshore branches of Indian merchant guilds that operated at every major commercial centre in Southeast Asia.

The Odia King of Cambodia

The story of the founding of Southeast Asia’s first Hindu-Buddhist empire is also thought to go back to Kalinga. 

The Funan empire in Cambodia was one of the first great empires of South-East Asia with extensive Indian connections in terms of trade, culture and administration. It was founded by the Naga princess Queen Soma (Neang Neak) and her husband, Kaundinya I (Preah Thong). 

According to Chinese records, Kaundinya was a Brahmin merchant ship captain who was shipwrecked on the coast of Cambodia. Queen Soma went to fight off the crew as she thought they were invaders, but fell in love with Kaundinya and proposed marriage. The House of Kaundinya followed matrilineal succession. 

Most Hindu-Buddhist empires trace their lineage to Kaundinya. Since Kaundinya was a Shaivite, the royal religion of the Funan Empire was Shaivism. Several Shiva temples with Sanskrit inscriptions have been found in the region which was once the Funan empire. The dynasty had 18 rulers, of whom Jayavarman, the 17th king, was the most famous. 

Rudravarman was the last king in the empire. There are no Indian records of King Kaundinya of Cambodia. However, noted economist and historian Sanjeev Sanyal has proposed that Kaundinya refers more to the gotra (lineage) of Kaundinya I. At the time, the Kaundinya lineage had settled extensively in Bengal and Odisha. Odisha had extensive trade relations with Vietnam and Cambodia. So, it’s quite likely that Kaundinya hailed from Odisha.

Untold history

Unfortunately, the central narrative of history in India (or at least in Indian schools) has a very clear bias towards the happenings in Central India, especially centred around the modern capital Delhi. 

One might have the mistaken impression that India has a fairly linear, uncomplicated timeline of history — the supposed and mostly mistaken “Aryan Invasion”, the Mauryan Empire, the Delhi Sultanate, the Mughal Empire, the British and then Independence. Kalinga is a mere footnote in the story of King Ashoka’s personal transformation.

The history of India is, quite frankly, a chaotic mess, and is all the more interesting, glorious and beautiful for it. For a start, it is essential that we highlight the story of the coasts of India, the brave sailors who crossed tumultuous seas, unsure of their return, and India’s soft but powerful cultural influence over Asia and the Roman empire for the better part of a millennium. 

It is extremely important to reiterate that Indian settlers never imposed their culture on anyone, and Indian culture was willingly adapted and moulded in unique ways by the local people of different lands all over Asia. And that was what made India’s influence and power so enduring — the ability of the ancients to embrace the entire world as a family, Vasudheiva Kutumbakam (the world is one family).

Somdatta Majumdar is a management student at the Great Lakes Institute of Management, Chennai and a history enthusiast. You can follow her Instagram @thegeekhistorian. You can also read the original article on Medium.

Edited by Divya Sethu  

To this, he said, “Your father is no Gandhi, Obama or Akbar, but you still think he is the most important person. He is not a historical figure; all you have is a personal connection and a brief history with him. Yet you think he’s important. This is the same with history. We have been gazing at the Taj Mahal and the Red Fort for too long. In doing so, we are forgetting that every piece of land has a lot of history to offer — I am talking about the locality you live or grew up in.”

Kumar, a 55-year-old ex-techie, locates and preserves millennia-old inscription stones from across Bengaluru city, converting them into books enriched with the area’s history. Most of these stones are unknown and forgotten, fading away with time, and taking along with them, their rich history.

“These books do not tell you stories of kings and queens of the city, but the local people and the ultra-local area,” Kumar tells The Better India.

Under the Mythic Society Bengaluru Inscription Project, he has saved more than 300 inscription stones from withering away by digitally imprinting and recording them in a book series called Bengaluru Itihaasa Vaibhava (The Historical Glory of Bengaluru).

The story behind an accidental historian

“In 2018, a friend told me about an inscription that has Kethamaranahalli’s name. Kethamaranahalli is a village around which Rajajinagar, where I reside, was built. Many areas in Bengaluru are built around small villages which no one knows about. Take J P Nagar for example, it is built around a village called Sarakki. These villages are very small, two-lane neighbourhoods,” he says.

“So when I heard that there is an inscription with my village’s name, supposedly from the 13th century, I was surprised. You don’t expect a small village like that to have such an important piece of history. There are no palaces or big temples in that place, just an important stone which was probably neglected as time passed,” he shares.

So, Kumar decided to find the stone. He eventually found a book called ‘Epigraphy of Karnataka’ which mentions the stone’s location.

“It was supposed to be by a lake, but there is no lake in the village. It took me a while to realise that the stone must have been misplaced. I was sad and disturbed that the only proof of the village being so old is probably gone forever,” he recalls.

But, the seeds of curiosity were sown that day. It led him on a journey of finding other inscription stones and preserving them from meeting the same fate.

“I did not even know what an inscription stone was before this. But now, they are all I run after,” he laughs.

“The incident made me realise that Bengaluru, which is perceived today as a shiny tech city, is actually so old. The areas in the city go back to the 7th and 8th centuries. I realised how the only pieces of evidence that prove this are getting destroyed. I had to save them; I had to do something.” he adds.

Teaming up with a few friends who were history enthusiasts like him, Kumar decided to make a plan of action. What started as a curiosity is now his full-time profession, for which he quit his job as an engineer at Schneider Electric.

“Most of the stones that we found were in bad shape — neglected and decaying. The first inscription stone that I laid my eyes on was found in a dumpster in T. Dasarahalli. Can you believe it? An important stone from hundreds of years ago just lying there. So, we decided that we not only want to preserve these but also educate people about their existence. If a person living in J P Nagar says that he comes from a locality that is a few decades old, it is undermining the place’s history, which in reality is actually hundreds of years old. Sarakki Lake itself is 500 years old,” he explains.

“Imagine reading your locality name or a place that you hail from on an inscription stone that is hundreds of years old. It is an incredible feeling,” he adds.

When a personal project received enthusiastic backing

Initially, Kumar would take time off from his job and use the weekends to locate these stones.

“But it was evident that preserving them in a shelter was not enough. The stones weather away, and who do we trust with keeping them safe? Coming from a tech background, it was clear to me that we had to make digital copies of these and preserve them. We came up with a technique to make high-resolution 3D digital replicas of the stones. But the equipment was extremely expensive, so I could not purchase it,” he says.

It was in 2020, when Mythic Society, a nonprofit institution which focuses on history, culture and archaeology, discovered Kumar’s work and invited him for a lecture.

“They liked my work and asked what it would take to do this on a larger scale. I jumped on the opportunity, and then they asked me, ‘We can fund this project; are you interested in taking this up full-time?’. This was dream come true for me, so I quit my job in 2020 and dedicated myself to this work,” he informs.

“We formed a team of four people. Unlike me, they are all doctorates of history and epigraphy, and we do this full-time,” he adds.

Explaining his 3D inscription project, Kumar says, “What we do in the project is that we use a three-dimensional scanner which costs about Rs 40 lakh. We scan the stone inch by inch; the scanner takes high-resolution 3D impressions. Unlike a photograph, one can clearly see the inscription from the digital impression of the stone on a computer. We can even adjust the contrast and lighting to read and study the inscriptions more deeply.”

He further explains, “We also write books which are free for anyone to download. It is being compiled into a book series called Bengaluru Itihaasa Vaibhava. We write the story of a particular region of the city based on the inscription of the stone and other pieces of heritage around the area — a micro-history of a specific locality. The book is written in Kannada and English. We also conduct a lot of events where we introduce people to the history of their locality.”

“As for the stones, when the people find out that the stones are so old, they have been voluntarily pitching in with money and constructing sheds to preserve them,” he says, adding that it is heartwarming to see people supporting this project.

Future plans

The project has discovered a total of 1,500 stones around the city, out of which 300 are new discoveries. The team led by Kumar has made a systematic map of Bengaluru city and placed the stones in order of priority.

“We have marked the inscription stones on the map. The first circle that you see is a 15 km area around the heart of the city. The stones are most threatened in the heart of the city because of construction, development etc. We have covered most of the stones in this area. The red circle is the 30 km circle; this is our next priority as sooner or later the city will expand,” he notes.

He continues, “Last Friday, we released a very unique book. The book contains the digital image of the Kannada alphabet which was used in the 13th century, discovered from the stones we found all these years. The target readers for the book are mostly children. They can use the book to read these inscriptions on their own. We want to break the notion that old scripts are hard to read,” he informs.

About the future, Kumar proudly says that he wants to get his hands on all the stones in the Bengaluru region.

“The story is not any different for any other city in the country. Be it Agra, Delhi, or Assam, there are inscription stones that are getting destroyed everywhere. Any historical book is not going to tell you the history of ultra-local places like J P Nagar or Rajaji Nagar. But it is possible, and there ought to be books about them. I would like to replicate what I am doing in Bengaluru in cities across the country,” he says.

“We have been made to think in a certain way when it comes to our history. Wherever there is a big mosque or a palace, we tagged the aspects around it as history and ignored the rest. I find it distasteful. We grew up only reading stories of kings and queens as part of history. I want to change this view among people by helping them to discover the history of the very land they reside on,” says Kumar.

Edited by Pranita Bhat

And the versatile dessert has a history that is as wonderful as its varieties. Its story begins in Persia with the zulbiya, an asymmetric floral coil-patterned dessert made with honey and rose water. 

This Persian ancestry of the dessert is also spoken of by food historian KT Achaya. In his book Indian Food: A Historical Companion, he wrote, “According to Hobson-Jobson, the word jilebi is ‘apparently a corruption of the Arabic zalabiya or Persian zalibiya’. If so, both the word and the sweet, syrupy article of food that it connotes must have entered India quite early.”

Today, several avatars of the dessert are found in states across the country. 

From North India’s jalebi and the jilebi in South India to the Bengali Jilapi served at Rathayatra, or the Gujarati jalebi consumed with fafda on Dussehra, the dessert has become an attraction on every platter. 

If you are looking for the story of how all these versions were born and won the hearts of Indians and the world, here’s something you may enjoy! 

In certain cases, even sharing a cartoon can land you in prison. Take the example of Ambikesh Mahapatra, a professor of chemistry at the prestigious Jadavpur University in West Bengal, who was arrested in April 2012 after he forwarded an email to his friends that contained a cartoon about a chief minister. It took him 11 years to get cleared of all charges.     

It’s not hard to guess how Keshav Shankar Pillai, the godfather of political cartooning in India, would have reacted to such events. Popularly known as just ‘Shankar’, the legendary cartoonist and illustrator was among the pioneers of political satire in post-Independence India living through some of the most prominent events ranging from Independence to the Emergency.  

Here’s his remarkable story. 

Anti-establishment from the start

Born in Kayamkulam, Kerala, on 31 July 1902, Shankar began his journey as a cartoonist caricaturing people in school. One of his first targets was a teacher sleeping in the classroom. Although the cartoon of a school teacher dozing off got him in trouble with his headmaster, an uncle recognised his talent and encouraged him to draw more. After school, he studied painting at the Ravi Varma School of Painting at Mavelikara (Raja Ravi Varma College of Fine Arts).  

While cartooning started off as a hobby for Shankar, it was Pothan Joseph, then editor-in-chief of the Hindustan Times who hired him as a staff cartoonist in 1932. His drawings, according to some of his own proteges, weren’t very good at the start.  

In a bid to perfect his craft, he undertook a rigorous training at the Slade School of Art in the United Kingdom and other institutions in Europe for over a year to improve his drawings. After finishing his course, he came back to work for the Hindustan Times until he quit in 1946.  

Most of his cartoons were targeted at the British colonial administration. His cartoons depicting Viceroys like Lord Willingdon and Lord Linlithgow and leaders of the independence movement like Mahatma Gandhi and Mohammad Ali Jinnah often got him in trouble. 

According to a story in The Hindu Business Line, “One of his most famous cartoons that appeared in the Hindustan Times in the early 1940s showed the British Viceroy Lord Linlithgow as Goddess Bhadrakali, standing over a burning body in a cremation ground.”

Interestingly, though, Linlithgow and his wife expressed appreciation for his cartoon. But it was Gandhi who sent a rather scathing postcard to Shankar which among other things criticised his cartoons of Jinnah and even included advice on the ethics of cartooning.   

“Your cartoons are good as works of art. But if they do not speak accurately and cannot joke without offending, you will not rise high in your profession. Your study of events should show that you have an accurate knowledge of them. Above all you should never be vulgar. Your ridicule should never bite,” read the postcard that Gandhi sent in 1939. 

Ritu Khanduri in her book Caricaturing Culture in India notes, “Shankar’s cartoons in Hindustan Times were both part of and marked the ethos of an emerging nation.” But his fearlessness and utter disregard for authority would result in him leaving the publication.  

As Khanduri notes in her book, “With the increasing temp of nationalist politics in India, newspaper cartoons invited interpretation not just about the British mind, but also about competing Indian political minds. They also generated sentiments of pleasure and hurt that place representation in the tricky terrain of emotion.”

“To pinpoint the emotion of the cartoons involved meaning-making that insisted upon articulating subjective experience as a social reality of colonial politics, and pinpointed the position of women and Muslims in the liberal agenda of a ‘gestating nation state’,” she adds. 

In 1946, Shankar began butting heads with the editor of the paper, Devdas Gandhi (Mahatma Gandhi’s son) over his unwillingness to tone down cartoons critical of prominent Congress leader C Rajagopalachari. After all, Devadas was Rajagopalachari’s son-in-law too. 

“The various circumstances surrounding Shankar’s resignation from the Hindustan Times suggest that by 1947, the press in India began to experience the strains of political affiliations made more complex by the interweaving of kinship among the industry, press barons, and politicians. In India, industrialists owned and financed the press, an unsurprising fact, since industrialists financed the Indian nationalist movement,” wrote Khanduri.   

He would eventually resign in 1946, even though Mahatma Gandhi famously asked him at the time, “Did Hindustan Times make you famous, or did you make Hindustan Times famous?” 

Challenging Nehru

Following his stint with the Hindustan Times, Shankar set up his own satirical magazine called Shankar’s Weekly. The weekly would give future cartoonists like RK Laxman, Bireshwar, Kutty, Narendra, Unny and Kevy, among others, their start. It was Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, who would launch the magazine even though Shankar described his weekly as “fundamentally anti-establishment, while never toeing any particular line in politics or in anything else.”

“In the first issue of Shankar’s Weekly, the only humour magazine ever to enjoy any success in India, there was a drawing of India personified as a distraught woman surrounded by screaming, bickering children. At her side, a puckish Shankar was trying to give laughter’s sweet solace,” wrote Lee Siegal in his 1987 book Laughing Matters: Comic Tradition in India. 

The relationship between Shankar and India’s first prime minister was rather unique. According to some estimates, Shankar had featured Nehru in more than 4,000 cartoons. In fact, even before they had met in person, Nehru would every now and then send clippings of Shankar’s cartoons to his daughter Indira alongside letters he wrote to her from prison.  

There were two cartoons of Nehru that particularly stood out. 

One poked fun at Nehru’s claims that India was ready to face the Chinese challenge, while also warning against any hasty action. “The cartoon depicted a worried and chastened Nehru pulling back an agitated and war-ready Nehru,” notes a blog post by G Sreekumar. 

The second cartoon was published about 10 days before Nehru passed away in 1964. Back then, there were many rumours about who would succeed Nehru. 

According to this 2009 tribute in The Hindu, the cartoon depicted “An emaciated and exhausted Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, with a torch in hand, runs the final leg of a race, with party leaders Gulzari Lal Nanda, Lal Bahadur Shastri, Morarji Desai, Krishna Menon and Indira Gandhi in tow.”

In response, Nehru reportedly remarked, “Don’t spare me, Shankar”. 

In fact, this is how Nehru described Shankar and his cartooning craft — “Shankar has that rare gift, rarer in India than elsewhere, and without the least bit of malice or ill-will, he points out, with an artist’s skill, the weaknesses and foibles of those who display themselves on the public stage. It is good to have the veil of our conceit torn occasionally.”

Meanwhile, Shankar described Nehru as a “great man, a truly great man”. He also noted how Nehru often thanked him “for helping him spot his inherent weaknesses.” 

“He liked to be reminded that he too was mortal. Perfection is not for any man, however powerful and highly placed he may be. Nehru had the wisdom to realise that,” said Shankar.

Emergency

Unfortunately, two months into the Emergency imposed by Nehru’s daughter and prime minister, Indira Gandhi, in 1975, the satirical magazine shut shop. While many believed that the magazine closed down because of the Emergency, Shankar denied those claims. 

The reason for shutting down was more basic. “We could have taken the Emergency in our stride, but the burden of running a weekly magazine on a shoe-string was too much,” he said. 

In the final edition Shankar’s Weekly, he wrote: “…our function was to make our readers laugh — at the world, at pompous leaders, at humbug, at foibles, at ourselves. But, what are the people who have a developed sense of humour? It is a people with certain civilised norms of behaviour, where there is tolerance and a dash of compassion.”

Literature for Children

Once the magazine shut down, Shankar turned his attention to writing and illustrating children’s books and dolls. In 1957, he founded the Children’s Book Trust on Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg in Delhi, which still stands today. 

Speaking to The Hindu Business Line in July 2019, Navin Menon, an editor at CBT under Shankar, recalled how “Shankar himself penned the first stories. Then he felt it didn’t quite reflect well on the organisation to have just one writer. So he started publishing his stories in the name of his family members. By and by, he looked for stories by outsiders.” 

CBT would go on to become a pioneer of children’s books in India, publishing popular titles like Stories from Panchatantra, Life with Grandfather and Mother is Mother, among others.  

In the same article, a former director of the National Book Trust, said, “Post-Independence children’s literature in India was rich in text, but not much attention was paid to illustrations and design. The market was flooded by highly subsidised, child-friendly colourful Soviet books. By establishing CBT, Shankar offered an attractive option to parents wanting well-illustrated books with Indian creative works, and stories from our history and mythology.”

Meanwhile, following a gift he received of a Hungarian doll, Shankar went on a spree of collecting dolls from around the world and organising doll-making workshops across India.

As a cartoonist, something about the Hungarian doll figure must have inspired him. It’s a hobby he developed in the 1950s, resulting in the creation of the International Doll Museum in 1965, which is today housed in the same building as the Children’s Book Trust.  

Shankar eventually passed away on 26 December 1989 at the age of 87, but not before leaving behind an incredible legacy. 

(Edited by Divya Sethu. Images courtesy Children’s Book Trust, Twitter)

Sources: 

‘Caricaturing Culture in India: Cartoons and History in the Modern World’ by Ritu Gairola Khanduri; Click here and here to read it

‘Sundays with Shankar’ by G Sreekumar; Published on 10 March 2022 courtesy his website

‘K Shankar Pillai, the cartoonist who taught a nation to laugh at itself’ by Meghaa Aggarwal; Published on 26 July 2019 courtesy The Hindu Business Line

‘Don’t spare me, Shankar’ by Deepa Karup; Published on 5 August 2009 courtesy The Hindu

‘Fifty and counting’ by Sangeeta Barooah; Published on 15 October 2007 courtesy The Hindu

‘Shankar, the political cartoonist to whom Nehru said ‘Don’t spare me!’ by Rachel John; Published on 22 December 2022 courtesy The Print

Children’s Book Trust