Treasure trove wastes away.....

Treasure trove wastes away a floor beneath Mamata’s feet

A crumbling treasure of books, folios, files and maps chronicling Bengal’s history since the days of the East India Company lies sandwiched between a public toilet and a union office just below heritage-proud Mamata Banerjee’s floor at Writers’. Mamata inherited this monumental tale of neglect from the Left Front and now presides over it, literally and figuratively. Not only is her remodelled office just above where this dark dungeon of a library is, her land and land reforms department is in charge of it. It would take the chief minister less than a minute from her office to walk to this priceless repository of records whose importance she appears to be unaware of.

Mamata, who is keen to turn Calcutta into London but hasn’t been able to emulate her favourite foreign city’s preservation of history, will find documents and pictures at the library showing how this city has evolved through the decades. She will find land records of the entire Bengal province — including present-day Bengal, Bihar and Orissa — since the time it was ruled by the East India Company. If in the mood for trivial pursuit, the chief minister could hunt for — and find — details of opium cultivation in parts of Bengal in the heyday of the Raj.

According to an undated estimate, there are approximately 4,000 files, 1,76,000 folios and 34,500 rare books in the library, located on the ground floor of Block IV. The bad news is that many of these are in various stages of irreversible damage. “No stocktaking exercise has ever taken place here, and the library does not even have a catalogue of what we have, what is lost and what is slowly slipping away. This place needs preservation,” eminent economic historian Benoy Bhushan Choudhury, who had used the library for his research in the Seventies, told Metro.

The canopy of cobwebs in the sprawling library, originally used by the colonial rulers as a records room, tells the story of disuse. The 745sq ft office area, which doubles as a reading room, is illuminated but the rest of the 6,224.49sq ft library is poorly lit. The librarian couldn’t recall the last time a researcher had dropped by. The hall has 18 windows that are permanently shut. A cursory glance at one of the dusty shelves reveals an 1836 edition of the Journal of Indian Arts and some drawings on opium cultivation in Bengal. The pages of the volume and the prints have become so brittle that you dare not grip them with your fingers.

Editions of the Calcutta Gazette since 1790 and the district gazettes since 1800 lie tattered on the huge, dusty shelves.

“There is no budgetary allocation for the maintenance of the library. It has a lone librarian, an upper division assistant and a peon. Preservation of a library like this requires expertise, which these staff members do not have,” a senior government official said. Librarian Mita Rani Ghosh admitted that much needed to be done to save the library. “I have requested for more manpower and other resources. I hope the chief minister will look into it,” she said. Unlike the West Bengal State Archives, this library does not receive any financial assistance from the Centre. There is no special allocation for the library from the land and land reforms department budget either. According to librarian Ghosh, the library was set up “sometime between 1800 and 1830”, when the building used to house the Fort William College. The college, established by Lord Wellesley, would impart language training to the babus. Although the college was shifted out later, the library remained and its importance increased with Writers’ becoming the administrative headquarters of the Bengal province. “Important documents like district gazettes, files on revenue collection, proceedings of board of revenue meetings, maps on land use, irrigation, establishment of new townships and road construction, and attendance registers of government employees were kept here,” historian Choudhury said.

The treasures that remain but might not survive the ravages of neglect include detailed Assembly proceedings and census reports from 1937, maps, books and files on the Sunderbans, transfer or sale deeds of land acquisition for the first rail tracks, plans for townships such as Durgapur and detailed family trees. The original copies of maps detailing the flora and fauna of Bengal and tea distribution in Assam between 1779 and 1782 are by James Rennell, the father of modern geography.

Historian Rajat Kanta Roy thinks the only way to save the library is to integrate it with the state archives. “The British land settlements, specially permanent settlements, laid the foundation of Bengali society. The heavy reliance on land in the colonial period is evident from documents related to the zamindari system and board of revenue meetings, which laid the socio-economic foundation of Bengal,” Roy said. Maybe a walk-through by Mamata someday will lay the foundation for an effort to save what is left of this heritage.

How do you think the library can be saved? Tell ttmetro@abpmail.com

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Written in The Telegraph (India) newspaper

Date: 27th August, 2012

By Sreecheta Das

Hands off our etiquette, Miss Manners!

Different societies have different standards of propriety and different metrics to assess hygiene. So who is clean and who is dirty?

Some 26 billion rolls of toilet paper, worth about $2. 4 billion, are sold in the United States each year. It is estimated that Americans use an average of 23. 6 rolls per head (per bottom would be more accurate) a year. Some other estimates put the American use of what is broadly called tissue paper at 50 lbs per year, more than the average of any other country, including other EuropHygeine, ean nations. Tissues can include toilet paper (basically used to maintain personal hygiene after defecation) and other accessories such as paper napkins and facial tissues. 

So essentially you can use tissues to wipe your face or wipe your bottom. Toilet paper, unlike other tissues, is designed to decompose in septic tanks. But it is not unusual for Americans to use toilet paper to blow their noses. This idea would be revolting to many Indians. Use the same paper for the face and fundament (well, even if not at the same time)? Chee chee! Americans, on the other hand, may consider the Indians' use of their hands for personal hygiene quite disgusting, even if it is explained to them that the "unclean" left hand is not to be used for eating. 

So who is clean and who is dirty? We can kick the can down the road and avoid asking awkward questions. Or we could ask Oprah Winfrey, who has caused a minor kerfuffle with her observation that "some Indian people eat with their hands still", which, understood in the strictly grammatical sense, would be quite difficult and involve a lot of head movement. Such minor quibbles aside, you may wonder what Americans, or Oprah's forbears for that matter, did before the mid-19 th century, which is when toilet paper came to America (the Chinese were the pioneers of the bum wad). Used goose feathers perhaps? Besides, how does Oprah eat her burgers and hot dogs? With a fork and knife? 

Different societies use different metrics to assess hygiene and etiquette. The American practice of leaving the derriere unwashed - and merely wiped - after taking a dump, to put it infelicitously, is repulsive in many cultures. So is the idea of wallowing in a bathtub, in one's own sweat and grime. In fact, Americans are said to use 50 per cent more toilet paper than Europeans because unlike the latter, they don't use bidets to wash their bottom. On the flip side, many foreigners who come to India are put off by what some have called "morning noises" - rituals involving gargling, gurgling, blowing the nose etc - politely known in Indian lexicon as "ablutions". 

It's not that Americans don't eat with their hands. Put a plate of chicken wings in front of an American and the hand - and not knife and fork - will shoot out. Americans use both hands for eating. At the end of which, they usually just wipe the hands with a napkin, seldom washing them (until much later). Indians on the other hand have to wash their hands immediately after every meal. Just paper napkins won't do. In fact, many Indian cultures, especially in the south, use fingers and palm to eat;that's the only way they can mash the food. 

In fact, before India became less Brahminical and cutlery and crockery entered its dining spaces, Etiquette 101 to westerners was to use only the right hand for eating;the left hand was meant for unclean acts such as wiping the backside, blowing nose, and taking off shoes. Some Brahminical cultures distinguish between "left handed dalits" (those who work with human and animal waste) and "right handed dalits" (like potters and blacksmiths who are considered to be "higher" in the hierarchy). In most western food systems now, it is mandatory for workers to use gloves when making fast food such as sandwiches and burritos, a practice that is just coming to India. Indians think nothing of touching the food they feed to others. 

Manners and etiquette also vary across the world. Many Indians are rude in western eyes because they do not vocalise or articulate gratitude. But they express it in different forms. Americans also complain that Asian and African men are illmannered in not holding the door open for others, especially women, who follow. But there is a theory - not entirely credible - about why in some societies, men do not hold the door open for women to step through first. That would be considered thoughtless because men are supposed to lead and see there is no danger for women and children who follow. 

Dr Venugopal Reddiar, an Iowa physician who has studied body language, has reflected on cultural differences when it comes to gestures. Crossing ones arms may signal deference in India, but in some societies it indicates defiance. Eye contact is a sign of respect and confidence in America, but elsewhere it suggests confrontation. 

Hygiene and manners evolve with changing times, mores, and values - even in the commercial sense. There is the famous example Napoleon hosting a banquet for the Thai king at which the visitors were served on aluminium utensils while others, including Napoleon himself, had to "make do" with gold and silver. That's because aluminium was at that time the most expensive and exclusive metal, a sign of great wealth and prestige. Following the invention of electrolysis and the Hall-Heroult process, the cost of aluminium dropped and it became commonplace.

Published in The Times of India-The Crest Edition

Date: 28th July, 2012

By Chidanand Rajghatta 

Diversity of Practice

Diversity of Practice--Multi-culturalism should not bar freedom of choice Multi-culturalism is an attractive social and political programme, although it is not without its hazards. Since most people who speak of multi-culturalism speak in its praise, it also hazardous. Multi-culturalism is based on the recognition and appreciation of the diversity of practices, customs and institutions among the various communities that exist within the larger social order. It advocates the accommodation of such practices instead of seeking their assimilation within one single dominant way of life. The accommodation of diversity comes naturally to Indians as it has been a part of the Indian social tradition since time immemorial. Anthropologists of an earlier generation, such as N.K. Bose and Irawati Karve, never tired of pointing to India’s rich diversity in material culture, social organization and religious practice. After pointing to the endless variety of practices relating to food, dress and habitation, Karve wrote, “The variety of family organizations is equally great. Polygamy and polyandry are both found. There are groups which are matrilineal, others which are patrilineal.” In peninsular India, the patrilineal extended family or okka of the Coorgs co-existed with the taravad or matrilineal extended family of the Nairs. Karve noted that Indian society had evolved over the ages through a distinctive process which she called the process of accretion. “The historical process is one of continuous accretion. There does not seem to be a stage where a choice was made between alternatives, a choice involving acceptance of one alternative and a definite, final rejection of the others.” The diversity that was accommodated in the past was organized hierarchically and not democratically. The principal bases of the traditional hierarchy were caste and gender. The contemporary advocates of multi-culturalism are strict in their scrutiny of any bias against disadvantaged castes and communities, but they tend to remain silent on the question of gender. Some of the very castes and communities whose ways of life they seek to protect are associated with the most odious forms of gender bias. Should they be allowed to continue in the name of multi-culturalism? When people speak of multi-culturalism, they do not generally have in mind the entire range of cultures present in a complex and changing society. They do not have in mind variations springing from education and employment. After all, the medical profession has a culture of its own which is different from the culture of the legal profession. And the culture of the Communist Party of India is evidently different from that of the Bengal Chamber of Commerce and Industry. If one makes a distinction between communities of birth and fellowships of choice, it is with the former and not the latter that the advocates of multi-culturalism are concerned. In that sense, they look to a society’s past rather than to its present or future. In the modern world, both types of association are present, each in many different forms, and it is hard to find a justification for favouring the one type at the expense of the other. The accommodation of diverse, even divergent, customs, practices and institutions has its advantages, but it also has limitations. It works well in a society that changes little and changes so slowly that the change is hardly noticed by its individual members. It is not able to cope easily with rapid and consciously designed social change. An exaggerated respect for one’s own social customs or for those of others acts as a brake on social reform. The makers of modern India were faced with serious political and moral dilemmas at the time of India’s independence. On the one hand, they wanted to carry forward the spirit of tolerance and forbearance that they had inherited from the past. On the other, they were appalled by the multitude of archaic, obsolete and retrograde customs entrenched among many, if not most, of India’s numberless communities. Jawaharlal Nehru and B.R. Ambedkar were broadly of the same mind on the need for social reform. They both wanted to sweep away the cobwebs of the past. But, whereas Ambedkar wanted to push ahead, Nehru was inclined to vacillate. He fulminated in speech but equivocated in practice, out of real or imagined regard for immemorial tradition. It did not take long for Ambedkar to be eased out of Nehru’s cabinet. Multi-culturalism becomes a problem when it is used as a shield for the protection of retrograde customs. It is doubtful that anybody in this day and age will seek to defend or justify cannibalism and head-hunting in the name of multi-culturalism. But what about child marriage? And what about polygamy? Until the time of Independence, polygamy was allowed by both Hindu and Muslim law. Shortly after Independence, Hindu law was reformed to make polygamy illegal. But Muslim law was not reformed in the same way, presumably out of respect for the sentiments of the community, but to the detriment of the long-term interests of all Muslims, both women and men. The zeal for safeguarding the established practices of a community often acts against the interests of the individual members of the same community. This is seen most clearly in regard to practices relating to family and marriage where some decide what others will be required to do in the name of social tradition. Where women are denied choice in these matters, that denial is invariably justified by invoking the traditions of the community: others may do as they wish, but in our community we arrange marriages according to our own customs. In the countryside around Delhi, local councils, known as khap panchayats act as custodians of the traditions of the community. They are dominated by men and they are strict about the regulation of marriage practices. Even though marriages outside the caste or jati and inside the clan or gotra are now permitted by Hindu law, the khap panchayats condemn them as being contrary to the customs of the community. They are both strict and swift in imposing penalties on transgressors and their families. The families generally fall in line with the elders either from conviction or from fear of ostracism. In many communities the easiest way of maintaining order and safeguarding tradition is to impose restrictions on the movements of women, particularly young women. As they grow older, the women themselves lend their support to such restrictions. Not long ago, a local council in a village near Delhi issued a directive prohibiting women below the age of 40 from carrying cell phones. They did not have the resources to monitor such conversations. When the ban came up for criticism in the national papers, a member of the Union cabinet sought to justify it on the ground that the elders of each community have a duty to protect the integrity of its traditional way of life. It will be naïve to believe that the diversity of cultures reproduces itself automatically without any regulation from within or outside. The regulatory mechanisms in use become obstacles to progress when they forbid choices that the law allows to individuals as citizens. Multi-culturalism will contribute to the general good only if it can build the freedom of choice, for women as much as for men, into its appreciation of diversity.

------------------------------------------------------ Published in The Telegraph (Indian Newspaper) Date: 23rd August 2012 By  AndrÉ BÉteille (The author is Professor Emeritus of Sociology, Delhi School of Economics, and National Research Professor)

Nehru, China and Sikkim

Political events preceding the 1962 Sino-Indian war and the demands at the home that followed.......

A grim crisis closed in on Sikkim as a renascent China began adopting a menacing posture regarding the vast tracts of land across the Himalayas. The Communist regime in the People’s Republic not only rejected the McMahon Line — demarcated long back by the British — as the border involving Chinese and Indian territory but started eyeing neighbouring kingdoms like Sikkim, Bhutan and Nepal.

 The situation was somewhat normal until 1954 when the Chinese government officially published a map that showed Sikkim and other areas being within its territory. It was not as though the move was unexpected for several Indian leaders, including Sardar Ballavbhai Patel, Acharya Kripalani and others kept warning the country of such moves from Communist China long before India faced the real threat. It is interesting to look back on how Jawaharlal Nehru, being the most powerful personality in the Indian political hierarchy, viewed the Chinese phenomenon. People in general hold him responsible for India’s humiliation following the Chinese incursion in October 1962. “Hindi Chini Bhai Bhai”, supposedly coined by Nehru, became a lethal instrument to pour scorn on his persona. But did Nehru really believe in the practical efficacy involved in the much-hyped coinage that turned almost synonymous with the make-believe rhetoric identified with Nehruvian pontification?

The conventional theory is that China’s sudden aggression came as a bolt from the blue for the idealistic Nehru and the aftermath of the incursion delivered such a lethal blow to his sensitive mind that he died of the shock two years later. But is this true? Admittedly, the Chinese betrayal shocked him out of his characteristic self-confidence and hastened his death. But should we suppose that Nehru’s towering intellect failed to visualise the menace that many of his contemporaries easily grasped long before the theoretical menace became real? Such supposition might amount to a gross underestimation of the farsightedness and intelligence of a man who is still respected as an intellectual stalwart, apart from being the “philosopher” Prime Minister of India.

A new revelation has come to the fore, which, if we suppose it is true, might transform our long-held perception of the matter. We know, from a diary by G Parthasarathi, India’s Ambassador to China in the 1950s, that Nehru’s wooly-eyed view of that country had undergone a through transformation long before it intruded into India. The diary, published by the diplomat’s son, Ashoke Parthasarathi, created a flutter on expected lines in political and intellectual circles in India and abroad. If its contents are true — there has been little from any quarter whatsoever — Nehru called China “arrogant, devious, hypocritical and thoroughly unreliable” some time in 1958 and asked the diplomat to be wary of China as also former defence minister Krishna Menon, “whose view of China was clouded because of his ideological leaning towards Communism”.

Nehru is supposed to have ridiculed the “Hindi Chini Bhai Bhai” coinage and advised Parthasarathi against setting store by the platitudinous rhetoric inherent in the much-touted “Pancha-sheel” or five conditions of peaceful co-existence. “Pancha-sheel” was conceived at Nehru’s instance to keep ties involving the two regional giants normal following the Chinese invasion into Tibet. It stressed the need for respecting the culture of countries in the region. The publication of the diary shocked many and a demand was made for an impartial probe into the sequence of events leading to the 1962 disaster. The demand is justified for nobody has any doubt that the 1962 drubbing so bruised the psyche of newly independent India that its confidence as an ascending nation was demolished for many decades. 

It is doubtful whether the nation has left the nightmare behind to wake up to a new dawn. The nervous vacillation displayed by the Indian leadership when the situation warrants that it stare China in the eye keeps casting serious doubts over whether the 1962 drubbing has become a thing of the past. One might rightly wonder why Nehru kept conniving with Krishna Menon till the disaster had befallen India on the ground when he had been aware all along of the defence minister’s worthlessness in reference to protecting the nation’s interests vis-à-vis China’s menacing posturing involving the sensitive border. 

Herein, perhaps, is hidden the riddle of Nehru’s personality. True, he admired China. But that was the China of yore when it kept looking towards India as the repository of knowledge. Nehru was a votary of Buddhism, as he identified his peculiar agnostic conviction with the basic tenets of Buddhism that repudiated the intricate metaphysical complexity inherent in the highest theologies of Hinduism. China was moulded by Buddhism, which it then adapted to its peculiar pragmatic character. It retained what was in tune with its temperament and rejected the rest. China also has a pre-Buddhist past that is equally glorious. Nehru, like his intellectual mentor, Rabindranath Tagore, spoke volumes of the China that kept trudging along snowy deserts in quest for the truth about life and existence.

But it is impossible to believe that, being a champion of democracy, Nehru was happy with the ascendance of a totalitarian regime just across India’s border whose intention was, as Sri Aurobindo wrote long back, an invasion and imposition, by penetration or even by overwhelming military force, of an unwanted ideology of a militant mass of Communism whose push might easily prove irresistible. This was more so as the roots of democracy were too nascent in poverty-stricken India for the appeal of totalitarian Communism under the redoubtable Mao Zedong when it was paraded as the panacea for all ills — economic, political and social.

So why did Nehru go out of his way to patronise a renascent China in the global hierarchy, ignoring warnings by his supposedly more sagacious colleagues like Sardar Patel. His demeanor vis-à-vis China seems all the more quixotic in view of the fact that the Communist leadership in China had never solicited his support to introduce it at international forums. Indeed, Nehru’s pro-China posturing caused much amusement.  Though it may sound derogatory, keeping in view the exalted place he still enjoys in the national as well as international perspective, it must be admitted that the posturing was a part of his diplomacy or, to be more straight forward, his cunning. It would be natural to lay the blame on him, for he single-handedly shaped India’s foreign policy, ignoring the views of others within the government and the party.

The fulcrum on which Nehru’s foreign policy was founded was exemplified in his own words — the right approach to defence is to avoid having unfriendly relations with other countries; or, to word it differently, war today is, and ought to be, out of question. Viewed against this backdrop, it seems his principal objective was to keep the Communist regime in good humour as far as possible so as to defang it of its expansionist penchant. Nehru was aware of the shaky ground on which India’s frontier with China remained founded. The McMahon Line, drawn up by the British to demarcate the borders involving China, Tibet and India, was hazy, to say the least. It could not have stood the test of impartial scrutiny. For China did not approve it; rather, it rejected it way back in 1914, the year Sir Henry McMahon conceptualised the plan following a meeting in Simla. Ivan Chen, commissioner for Tibet and plenipotentiary of China, did not sign it.

The grouse on China’s part remained trained on the participation of Tibet as an independent entity at the conference. For China kept stressing Tibet’s status as its vassal state. Tibet, having participated at the tripartite conference as an independent country, caused Chinese recalcitrance from the beginning.

   The McMahon-envisaged borders could not stand up to legal scrutiny on another count. It was null and void from the very beginning on account of the 1907 Anglo-Russian treaty, which stipulated that none of the two countries would do anything in reference to Tibet while keeping China at bay. The treaty was, however, annulled with mutual consent in 1921.

Nehru knew far back that the new regime in China would stress on the disputed nature of the borders and once the matter came to the fore at the instance of China the entire stretch of the borders involving China, Tibet and India would become a bone of contention between the two emerging Asian giants. It was also easy to visualise China invading Tibet to take it under direct control and, once Tibet was gobbled up, to demand a re-demarcation of the entire stretch of the borders, rejecting the baggage of the past. The position of Sikkim, apart from the region known as Aksai Chin in Jammu and Kashmir and also some parts of the North East Frontier Agency now known as Arunachal Pradesh (China called some parts of Nefa South Tibet), was also uncertain, keeping in view China’s long-held claims on these places as parts of Tibet and, therefore, its own.

It is well known that the British rather forced an enfeebled China, grappling with internal distemper in 1890, to acquiesce to their proposal to accept Sikkim as a de facto protectorate of the British-Indian dispensation. China kept demurring since, repeatedly reinforcing its claims on the kingdom. Nehru was intelligent enough to smell a rat, with the position of the government of India remaining shaky and bereft of inherent strength to withstand pressure from China. Placed thus in a tight corner regarding the shaky border, Nehru was forced to be placatory, though he had no sympathy for the totalitarian regime in China. The Chinese leadership were no fools either. They were well aware of India’s weakness and the real intention behind Nehru’s facade of support for the Communist regime.

Nehru is known to have boasted once of his role in introducing China at the international hierarchy. Stung by the typical Nehruvian verbosity, the Chinese leadership said they did not need any support from the leader of a third-rate country like India. Former Chinese President Liao Shao Chi was on record as having said that his country, being a great power, would have to punish India just once. The intention was not just to show India its place in the regional diplomatic theatre but also to cut Nehru’s “gigantic ego” to size. The Indian predicament vis-à-vis China’s belligerent posturing might explain why Nehru kept conniving with Krishna Menon, though being fully aware of the latter’s ideological affinity with the Communist gospel that China became a champion of. He did not want to ruffle feathers in the Chinese echelons further, given the sensitiveness involved in the situation.

It was thus far more strategic cunning or diplomatic astuteness rather than what is generally supposed to be Nehru’s large-heartedness. However, all is not cunning or hypocritical diplomacy. There is another aspect behind the “Hindi Chini Bhai Bhai” syndrome and this is what is related to the general Indian temperament. It is the tendency to remain frozen in rhetorical bombast when it comes to asserting the Indian position in the moving international trajectory. India tends to show greatness as it craves a global role. But it demands respect for its greatness while tending to ignore the necessity of building up the groundwork for buttressing such claims by way of defence or other related preparedness.

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Published in The Statesman (Indian Newspaper)

Date: 18th Feb. 2011

By Romit Bagchi

In the flow of things!!!

In the Flow of Things!!!

The tairaki melas of the Mughals. The swimming competitions of Sawan. Throwing rose petals in water before a splash in the Yamuna. Good old Delhi saw it all, says R.V. Smith.

One result of pollution and the scanty water in the Yamuna is the virtual end of the annual swimming fairs. The Delhi Gazetteer of 1883-1884 recorded the number of fairs in Delhi at 33, though originally there were 104 which included (besides the bathing ones) mostly those in honour of local deities, the pankha melas, the Moharram processions and the urs at various shrines. Among the fairs that attracted both Muslims and Hindus were the tairaki melas, first started by the Mughals during the rainy months, when the river was full and flowed right under the walls of the Red Fort. Nets had to be thrown in it to catch crocodiles that were swept thither by the flood. There may be some exaggeration in such accounts, though it is a fact that occasionally ensnared crocs found their way to Macchliwalan, the fish market near the Jama Masjid, where oil was extracted from their carcasses and, like their skin and teeth, fetched a high price, along with the snout that was mounted by taxidermists for the drawing rooms of the nawabs and nawabzadas . Until the late 19th Century crocodiles were found basking near the Purana Quila in winter and shot by British sentries, according to the Gazetteer.

Here is an account written in the mid-20th Century. For most Delhiwallahs the swimming season begins with the onset of the monsoon and not at modern swimming pools. There was a time when swimmers floated on their backs with iron spits on their chests on which kababs, paranthas and jalebis were fried. In Mughal days the art of swimming reached its zenith with tairaks from Turkey, Iran, Armenia, Central Asia and Afghanistan coming to compete here. A noted swimmer from Agra was given the title of Mir Macchli by Jahangir. It is said that when, as Prince Salim, he was initiated into the sport, tons of roses were thrown into the Yamuna, then in flood. A similar story is told about Shah Jahan, which only goes to show how popular river swimming was in those days even for princes.” Up to the early 1940s there were four swimming fairs on the four Thursdays of Sawan. Parties of swimmers from the Walled City marched to the river to the beat of drums, headed by a flag-bearer (the Nishan Nashin), and singing the songs of Barsat of poet Nazir. There were separate groups of Muslim and Hindu swimmers. For the former the ustad was the chief and for the latter the Khalifa (colloquially pronounced Khalipa). This was strange since the word Khalifa has Arabic origins and got converted into the Anglicized “Caliph”. How come then that a non-Muslim group had adopted it? One reason could be that in former times the trainers of both communities were of Turkish descent and so when “ustad” became popular with one group, the other one decided on retaining “Khalifa”.

Parmal Khalifa was actually a fat, paunchy vegetable seller who walked with difficulty. But when he entered the river he was grace sublime, braving the current and leading his team into the most tricky parts of the Yamuna. Ghafoor Ustad was a balding pigeon-fancier who used to jump from the old Yamuna Bridge into the flood water, holding the Nishan in one hand and swimming with the other — a tight-fitting cotton Lucknavi cap on his head. Both Muslim and Hindu groups swam across the river and when they reached the other side they offered “Chiraghi”. One on a mazar and the other under a pipal tree. The groups returned home with the drums beating again and the Nishan fluttering in the monsoon breeze to cries of “Nare Taqbi” and “Har har Mahadeva,” as per their belief. But if a group lost a swimmer (a rare occurrence) then the drums were not played and it trooped home silently. Because of this fear little girls and boys were posted on the road to bring word to the zenana that all was well and that their group was returning with “deecham-deecham” (joyous drumbeats) and mad Razzak dancing in a frenzy. It was then that kheel-batasha or sweat nuktidana (boondi) were distributed to all and sundry. In the case of a mishap the group did not return without the body of the drowned member, even if it took hours to recover it from usually the “bhanwar” or the treacherous circular river current that was a virtual death-trap.

One remembers meeting Munne Mian, an old ustad staying in Kucha Chelan in the 1960s, who had a host of stories to relate in his spare time. Though he had stopped swimming, his son had taken over the ustadi and the turban that went with it. One story concerned Masoom, a boy of 16 who was presumed drowned in the last fair of Sawan. The group searched for him but couldn’t find the body and wanted to return home. Munne Mian however was not the one to give up and eventually found the boy caught in the bhanwar. He carried him to the Yamuna bank, put him on his stomach and squeezed the water out of his lungs. He then massaged the body till breath returned and then the Nishan was hoisted and the group returned triumphantly, with Masoom being carried in a sort of relay throughout. One hardly hears of such fairs now!

Published in The Hindu

Date: 19th August

Written by R.V. Smith

Survivors of time - Where stones tell a tale!

A view of St. Mary's Church

Just beyond the crowded Assembly building in Fort St. George is a quiet corner, surrounded by tall neem trees with dangling creepers and a metal gate with an antique lamp at the top. This is the rather quaint entrance to what is claimed to be the oldest Anglican church East of the Suez and the oldest British building in India. St. Mary’s Church is a history book in itself and every step inside seems like a step back in time. The church is now part of the Church of South India, Diocese of Madras. The presbyter, Reverend J. Krubha Lily Elizabeth, points to a booklet on her table about the church’s history.

“The St. Mary’s church was built in 1680 when those who lived in the fort needed a place of worship. Earlier, the chaplain would conduct prayers in the dining hall or some such place.” On March 25, 1678, work on the church began under Governor Streynsham Master. As it was Our Lady’s Day, the church was named St. Mary’s Church. It is said to have been built with voluntary contributions from the English who inhabited the fort. According to the booklet, ‘It will be 80 feet long, 50 feet broad and built with 3 aisles arched with brick and stone’.

The church was consecrated on October 28, 1680, with Rev. Richard Portman and all other English inhabitants of the fort. “They say it was a beautiful day when the Governor and Chaplain headed to the church. They had lined up soldiers all the way to the entrance and people came to see the dedication service of the first Anglican church,” says Rev. Krubha, “We’ve had 112 pastors here so far and there were eight before the church was built.” The Chaplain’s House, which lies behind the church, is now a military station headquarters.

The first organ was bought in 1687 from Captain Weltden for 70 pagodas and was in use till 1718, when a new one was ordered from England. In 1761, the West Gallery was enlarged to make room for an organ. But in the beginning of the 19th Century, two new vestries were built on each side of the present chancel, thereby reducing the gallery size. The organ was removed when a new sanctuary was built in 1884. The present one, which is the fifth, dates back to1894. The present organist is John Collison.

The teak balustrade in front of the gallery dates back to the time when the church was built. The ewer was presented in 1888. The altar rails presented by the Princess of Tanjore have been replaced, but the memorial plate on the step is still there. “There is a window behind the altar where you can now see a painting of The Last Supper. The church has become synonymous with this painting whose artist is unknown. The painting is said to have come from Pondicherry in 1761.”

The church has 104 tombstones, the oldest being that of Lord Pigot dating back to 1777. The original graveyard was situated where the High Court is now, but was shifted later. When the French besieged Madras and took over the building, many of the slabs were brought to St. Mary’s Church and used to lay a pavement. In 1782, when Hyder Ali invaded Madras, the slabs were used to mount the guns around the Fort.

STEEPED IN HISTORY: A view of St. Mary's Church, the interior and a painting of The Last Supper at the altar

When the church was built, it was called the company church and remained the Presidency Church for 150 years. There have been very few changes in the church since then. The spire was added only in 1710. It then became a garrison church, serving the British regiments stationed in the fort. The British army stocked its artillery here.

The registers of baptism, marriage, death and burial have been preserved right from the time the church was consecrated. While the oldest are preserved in the Fort Museum, the rest lie in the church. The register of graves from 1680 to 1947 can be seen at the church and some plates and chalices that were presented by Elihu Yale, then Governor of Madras, a large silver basin, silver flagon and communion cup are on display at the museum. The first marriage registered is that of Elihu Yale, after whom Yale University was named. He married Catherine Hynmers, a widow, in 1680. Robert Clive married Margaret Maskelyne at St. Mary’s Church in 1753. The visitor’s book dates back to1903 and has autographs of King George V and his queen, Mary. A new visitor’s book even has records of Queen Elizabeth II and the Duke of Edinburgh’s visit here.

It also records the visit of the Duke of York, Prince Andrew, who was here for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee special service on May 4 this year. The Vestry committee of St. Mary’s Church was a pioneer in many aspects — setting up a charity school (which is now the St. George’s School on Poonamallee High Road), a male and female asylum, a military hospital inside the fort from which the General Hospital later developed and a library.

“I guess a lot of Madras’ history took shape here, since this is where the East India Company began its operations,” says Krubha.

A painting of The Last Supper at The St. Mary's Church

Fact box

Worship continues at the CSI St. Mary’s Church, Fort St. George, with a service on Sundays 9 a.m., and a bible study on Wednesdays 7 p.m. The church is closed to visitors on Sundays. The present Bishop is Rt. Rev. Dr. V. Devasahayam. The affairs of the church are administered by a committee whose chairperson is Rev. Immanuel Devakadatcham.

Published in The Hindu

Date: 21st August 2012

Written by: Anusha Parthasarathy

High on Leh

High on Leh

Dotted with gompas, lakes and astounding views, the Buddhist town of Leh is a dream destination for the maverick and the curious traveller alike.

By the looks of it, Jigme Khyentse Dawa is like any other 15-year-old boy who swears by Harry Potter and Star Wars. But to the monks and high priests of the Drukpa lineage, he is a 'gifted' boy. He is believed to be the ninth reincarnate of the great master Yongdzin Rinpoche, a crucial figure in the Drukpa strand of Buddhist philosophy. Dawa's crowning holds great promise for the spiritual clan that is over 800 years old and has four million followers. It is said the search for His Eminence Yongdzin Rinpoche was so daunting that even His Holiness Gyalwang Drukpa at one point gave up all hope. It was a combination of luck and celestial blessings that brought this young boy face-to-face with His Holiness. And it was decided that Jigme Khyentse Dawa would be crowned the rightful spiritual heir as His Eminence Yongdzin Rinpoche at the Hemis festival this year. 

Jigme Khyentse, Dawa, 15, was crowned as His Eminence Yongdzin Rinpoche at the Hemis festival this year

Crowning glory

The enthronement ceremony began in the inner sanctums of the monastery sharp at nine in the morning and lasted over two hours. A few monks chanted ancient scripts in a sonorous decorum, while others played musical instruments - gongs, cymbals and trumpets - in rehearsed tandem. Complex as the entire ritual seemed, the seriousness and devotion with which the rites were performed could have instilled conviction even in the most stubborn cynic.

The boy sitting on the raised dais beside His Holiness sat unsmiling through his spiritual baptism as cameras and video recorders edged near him to capture every pensive moment. The solemnisation was followed by a celebration at the monastery's sprawling courtyard. 'Colourful' is the one word that aptly encapsulates the Hemis festival, observed on the birth anniversary of Lord Padmasambhava (Gur Rinpoche). Masked and exquisitely-attired monks glided out of the inner wings of the monastery and performed a spellbinding dance-drama in the courtyard as tourists and locals sat patiently, battling the harsh mountain sun, cheering occasionally. 

Anticipating a great rush of tourists at the festival, street shops and hawkers had parked themselves on all the meandering mountain pathways. Trinkets, prayer-wheels, thankas, and even Hemis T-shirts and souvenirs sold at a hefty price. Ladakhis are an enterprising lot. They can sell anything convincingly - from the most obscure item to the most precious. With juley, a jubilant salutation, they win your heart instantly. 

Winter woes

Tucked in the Himalayan range and explored ardently by motorbike junkies, there is no place in Leh that wouldn't urge you to stop and soak in the breathtaking scenery. It is a canvas on which god has applied lush strokes of all shades. But, for our taxi driver Norpa, who drove recklessly on hairpin bends despite signboards warning 'be soft on my curves', it was simply any other town. Perhaps for the locals the harshness of the impending winter spoils the alluring romance of clear skies during the summer months. Wang Chuk, our hotel owner, who shuttles between his Gurgaon residence and Leh, says, "Business is good in summer but once the November chill kicks in I head to Delhi. " Noticing a commotion at a nearby cafê, Chuk lowers his voice and adds, "Israelis! They tend to flock Leh every year around this time and hang about all day at cafes and pubs."

While a few years ago Leh didn't have that kind of mass appeal, today it is a honeymooning destination for robust Punjabis, a solemn pilgrimage for die-hard adventurers and a curious passage for those in transit. The city, too, has changed dramatically, welcoming the influx of tourists. With a bustling town centre now, the city has undergone massive commercialisation. But it's the virginal outskirts that hold much promise. 

A spellbinding dance-drama by masked monks in exquisite costumes

Sights and sounds

Shanti Stupa, which is barely a five-minute drive from the main town, is one such stop. A stupa is a symbol of Buddha's teachings where relics, dharma books and Buddha statues are engraved in the interior walls. Construction of this Stupa started in 1983 by Bhikshu Gyomo Nakamura from Japan. This white-domed structure situated atop a gradual hill offers panoramic views of Leh, providing many picture-perfect moments. The marble-tiled floor of the monument, spotless and clean, lends cold comfort to tired and parched feet. Two other spots that are located within the town's periphery are the Magnetic Hill and the Indus-Zanskar sangam. Vehicles apparently propel themselves forward without the engine being turned on at the hill; some believe it is an optical illusion. The site is very popular amongst tourists, who can't stop squealing at the sight, as if a magician has pulled a rabbit out of his hat. 

Barely a kilometre or two ahead of the hill is the sangam or the confluence of the Indus and Zanskar rivers. Many feel the view is nothing compared to the iridescent Pangong Lake, which is a five-hour drive from the main city and located at an altitude of 13, 900 ft. With only one-fourth of the lake in India and the rest in China, Pangong Lake is heavily patrolled by army men throughout the year. The diaphanous water body changes its hues with every ray of sunlight almost chimerically. Ideal as a camping site, a visit to the lake is incomplete without witnessing the mesmerising sunset and sunrise. For those who aren't satiated by Pangong, the Tsomoriri Lake lies even higher, at 15, 075 ft, and demands at least a two-day halt. Rare breeds of birds such as black-necked cranes, gulls and ferruginous pochard are found at the lake. It is worthwhile to carry a pair of binoculars to have a closer peek at the birds and rare species of animals. 

Trail talk

Leh is a mecca for adrenaline addicts. The towering, slanted mountains offer not only magnificent views but also a cruel terrain that requires great skill to scale. Each year, with most of the trekkers coming in on ponies, the grasslands of the region have been severely depleted and afforestation attempts have suffered a huge setback. Khenrab, the director of the Youth Association for Conservation and Development, Hemis National Park (YAFCAD HNP) took note and came up with an ingenious plan. 

"We tried to convince the locals to let trekkers stay at their homes. They were hesitant initially, as they felt that their houses were very basic. What we did then, is provide them with basic amenities - good bedding, clean interiors and safe, filtered water," says Khenrab. He, thus, not only showed the locals a way to set up a small-scale business, but is also helping preserve the region's green patches. Today, at a nominal price of Rs 350 per day that includes meals, one can stay with a local family and get a taste of authentic Ladakhi culture and cuisine. 

What is heartening is that throughout the Leh-Ladakh region, locals try very hard to keep their natural surroundings safe and untouched. For instance, at the Drukpa White Lotus School, biodiversity is given a lot of importance and students are responsible for the upkeep of their school and its vicinity. But, of late, with tourists flocking here in huge numbers, keeping the surroundings clean and unspoilt has turned out to be a challenge. 

While Leh's sylvan environs are intoxicatingly stunning, it is not a destination for those who desire pampering and indulgence. 

But for the footloose and fancy-free, its snow-clad mountains and serpentine roads offer much to explore and experience. 

Quick Notes

Food file

Traditional Ladakhi food is unappetising. Bland and mildlyflavoured - those accustomed to strong spices will be disappointed. Skyu, a traditional dish made of refined flour and vegetable roots or mutton, is worth a shot, though. Beware of Ladakhi tea - a concoction of green tea, salt and butter Cafês to visit; World Garden Cafê, Babylon and Hotel Snow View for a five-course Ladakhi Tibetan meal, all in Changspa.

Take care

Feeling breathless, faint or suffering from a splitting headache? You are in danger zone. Acute mountain sickness (AMS) is a serious condition that can prove to be fatal if caution isn't exercised. Once in Leh, at least a day's acclimatisation is advised. Also, stick to mineral water, because Leh's water can be unsanitised. 

Travel diary

Best months to travel to Leh are from June to September. There are hotels fitting all budgets on the Changspa road. Morning flights ply to Leh from Delhi regularly. Road travel is strenuous, but offers the most dramatic views. Delhi to Leh is a roughly three-day journey. There are two ways to reach Leh, one by the Srinagar-Leh highway and the other by the Manali-Leh highway.

Published in The Times of India Crest Edition

Date: June 26th 2010

By Diya Banerjee

A Dip into the Sacred!!!

A Dip into the Sacred

The horns breach the silence and monochromes are replaced by a splash of colours during a festival at Hemis Monastery in Ladakh. 

Hemis Monastery is the biggest and the wealthiest Buddhist monastery in Ladakh. The headquarters of more than 200 branches of Drukpa ‘lineage of the dragons’, this 11th Century monastery is situated at an altitude of 12,000 feet, and is one of the highest settlements of the world. Nestled in a gorge inside the Hemis National Park, at a distance of about 45 km from Leh in Jammu & Kashmir, Hemis gompa withstood plunders unlike other gompas. A recently built museum showcases its rich collection of huge stone and copper-gilt monuments of the Lord Buddha, gold and silver stupas studded with precious stones, and an impressive collection of sacred thangkas (religious paintings).

Drukpa is one of the oldest among the four major Buddhist sects of Ladakh. “In 1206, exactly 800 years ago, Tsangpa Gyare Yeshe Dorje saw nine dragons flew up into the sky from the ground of Namdruk, and he named his lineage ‘Drukpa’ or ‘lineage of the Dragons’ after this auspicious event,” says Gyalwang Drukpa, Spiritual Head of the Drukpa lineage of Buddhism. Drukpa Buddhists follow the Mahayana Buddhist tradition in philosophy of “seeking enlightenment by helping others” through methods based on the Tantrayana teachings. Gyalwang Drukpa adds, “Tantrayana is also called the ‘Vehicle of the Text’. It is distinctive from the other paths in Buddhism as it seeks liberation from the cycle of rebirth in Nirvana and makes full enlightenment or Buddha-hood possible in a shorter time frame, or perhaps, in a single lifetime.”

Starting 10th day of Tibetan lunar calendar, the long horns breach the silence and monochromes are replaced by a splash of colours during this two day festival when the monastery commemorates the birth of Guru Padmasambhava, the 8th Century Indian Buddhist mystic and founder of Tantrayana Buddhism. People from different religions, from across the world, throng the Hemis Monastery to witness an ancient tradition, flourishing virtually unadulterated. The festival draws huge crowds which reaches its crescendo every 12th year when the two-story-high giant thangka, beautifully embroidered with pearls and semi-precious stones, depicting Guru Padmasambhava, is unrolled for public viewing. The Hemis festival, this year, was blessed by the spiritual head, Gyalwang Drukpa, and was attended by over 25000 guests from across the world.

The highlight of the Hemis festival is the Masked Dance, also known as Cham performance which is essentially a part of tantric tradition. The dance is a culmination of a month’s training by the monks and is performed only in Drukpa gompas. The performances have a strong significance and the observance of these sacred rituals is believed to give spiritual strength and good health. The symbolic masked dance, in the backdrop of traditional cymbals, drums and long horns, performed by the monks dressed in brightly coloured 17t Century silk gowns and masks, depicts the victory of Buddha over sinister forces through exorcisms. “It also serves as a reminder to the local people of their rich cultural heritage and showcases Himalayan living traditions which have always been very friendly to the ecosystem. People living in these harsh conditions, unless over exposed to western modernisation, learn from the young how to preserve their environment and how not to waste,” said Gyalwang Drukpa.

A major contributor to Ladakh’s cash economy, tourism has brought clear economic benefits to the minority involved in this trade. While the influx of tourist money has allowed the monasteries to make renovations and repairs at a time when the number of young monks is declining, the synthetic table tops, plastic floor coverings, cement steps, and bright, new, synthetic-based paints, have replaced the traditional material.

Published in The Hindu

Date: 19th August, 2012

By Aamit Khanna