Kings and priestly classes developed a way of recording transfer of property ownership in strikingly parallel terms
While the copper plates had the Sanskrit word “danam” inscribed in them, the parchment charters bear the word “donum” in Latin. / Both Telegraph picture
In the medieval societies of Bengal and Scotland, kings and priestly classes developed a way of recording transfer of property ownership in strikingly parallel terms using related vocabulary and philosophical concepts.
In Bengal, land gifts were recorded in Sanskrit etched in copper plates and stone inscriptions. In Scotland, it was recorded in charter parchments in Latin. In both societies, it was the king who made the donations of land to the priestly class.
John Reuben Davies, a research scholar at Glasgow University, came to Calcutta in 2011 and was surprised to find in Asiatic Society copper plates from the Pala era in Bengal (10th to 12th century CE) that had close similarities with parchment charters from Scotland belonging to the same period. Charters are written records of transfer of property.
While the copper plates had the Sanskrit word “danam” inscribed in them, the parchment charters bear the word “donum” in Latin. Both of giving as a gift is ‘danam’. Latin, the same Indo-European root, provides the noun ‘donum’, a gift, indicate a gift of land from the king to the priestly class for eternity.
“In Sanskrit, the word for the method and the verb ‘dono’, I give as a gift,” said Davies.
“The concept of transferring ownership of property by giving as a gift is at the heart of property records both from Bengal and Scotland. And both in Bengal and Scotland, a word that has the same origin in Sanskrit and Latin was used to describe the transaction and give it legal force. So in two early medieval societies, 6,000 miles apart with no known contemporary connections or influences, had evolved an almost exactly similar way of recording transfer of property in strikingly parallel terms and using directly related vocabulary and philosophical concepts.”
Davies made the statement during a recent online lecture as part of the Stories of World Culture, an Indian Museum’s virtual initiative during the pandemic.
Davies and retired Calcutta University professor Swapna Bhattacharya, who has worked on Indian copper plates and European charters, collaborated and co-edited a book on these findings, Copper, Parchment and Stone: Studies in the Sources of Land Holding and Lordship in Early Medieval Bengal and Medieval Scotland, published by the Centre of Scottish and Celtic Studies of Glasgow University.
Glasgow University has decided to include the findings of Davies and Bhattacharya in the first-year undergraduate and postgraduate syllabus. Classes on the topic will start next year.
Regarding its inclusion in the history course, Joanna Tucker, a history lecturer at Glasgow University, said in a WhatsApp message to Metro: “The digitisation of texts and the surge in availability of digital resources have partly (and paradoxically) led to a new appreciation of the ‘physicality’ of our manuscript sources…. One recent publication (Davies, 2019) compares Indian and Scottish gifts of property in parchment charters and in copper and stone inscriptions. This provides a way to show our students that recent work in the field of medieval Scottish history has been taking a global perspective….”
Davies found further similarities like properties could be owned outright forever. A very similar conceptual, linguistic and textual framework evolved to guarantee the conveyance and ownership of property. The king was the supreme authenticating authority, provided he is the legitimate heir proved by the publication of his genealogy in copper, stone or parchments that he could govern and guarantee the rights of his subjects.
source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph, online edition / Home> West Bengal / Calcutta
The list of alumnae who played a significant, if less acknowledged role, in India’s freedom struggle is a lengthy one, and includes those who took up arms in their war against British rule and oppression.
The Bethune college played a pivotal role in shaping women who fought for freedom from British rule. (Wikimedia Commons/ edited by Gargi Singh)
Bina Das was only 21 when she opened fire on Bengal Governor Stanley Jackson at Calcutta University in 1932. But in Calcutta’s Bethune College, women like her were not rare. In fact, the institution played a pivotal role in shaping women like her, especially those who called undivided Bengal their home, who fought for freedom from British rule.
The list of alumnae who played a significant, if less acknowledged role, in India’s freedom struggle is a lengthy one, and includes names like Kamala Das Gupta, Kalpana Dutta and Pritilata Waddedar who took up arms in their war against British rule and oppression. There are also women like Sarala Devi Chaudhurani, Kadambini Ganguly and Chandramukhi Bose, who did not pick up weapons, but urged literacy and education for girls and championed women’s rights and protections, paving the way for several reforms for girls and women in pre-Independence India — a war of a different kind.
In her memoir, Das recalls how the library at Bethune College in Calcutta shaped her life by allowing her access to books on the theories of revolution and freedom, and encouraged her ideas and hopes for a nation independent from British rule. In addition to churning out women who went on to become revolutionaries, the institution was remarkable for several other reasons, the foremost being that when it was turned into a college in 1879, it became the only institution for higher education for women in Asia.
Kadimbini Ganguly, one of the first two women graduates in the subcontinent. (Wikimedia Commons)
Uttara Chakravorty, a former teacher of history at Bethune College, who spent approximately five years conducting research on the history of the institution, believes that the college library particularly played an important role in shaping the lives of the women who passed through its gates. “We didn’t find records of teachers imparting revolutionary views, but the library was good and the girls read newspapers,” she tells indianexpress.com . The college itself had no role to play in the formation of revolutionary views, but it was the diverse peer group to which women had access in the institution that fostered an exchange of ideas, believes Chakravorty. “The peer group consisted of girls who came from undivided Bengal. There were Jewish girls, Afghan girls, Anglo-Indians. The cosmopolitan nature of the environment shaped their views, along with the (college’s) architecture. The library had books of all kinds.”
When Kadambini Ganguly and Chandramukhi Basu graduated from Bethune College in 1881, they became the first two women graduates in the subcontinent. “This was the most revolutionary thing at that time,” says Chakravorty. Ganguly’s achievements were particularly extraordinary for a woman back then. Not only was she one of the first two women graduates, but she was also the first South Asian woman physician, with training in western medicine.
Chandramukhi Basu, who graduated with Kadambini Ganguly in 1881 as the first two female graduates in the subcontinent. (Wikimedia Commons)
After John Elliot Drinkwater Bethune arrived in India in 1848, as a Legal Member of the Governor-General’s Council, he was appointed president of the Council of Education. Bethune’s posting allowed him to meet members of the Bhramo Samaj, who like him were also proponents of education for girls and women. In one of his meetings in the city, zamindar Dakshinaranjan Mukherjee gifted Bethune five and a half bighas of land for building a school that opened as ‘Calcutta Female School’ in May 1849 with 21 girls on the roll, an institution that became the predecessor of the Bethune School.
According to Kalidas Naga’s writings in ‘Bethune School And College Centenary Volume 1849’ published in 1949, “none but the girls of respectable Hindus would be admitted”. A school carriage was arranged to transport the girls who lived at a distance to and fro from school.
John Elliot Drinkwater Bethune, who founded the Bethune college. (Wikimedia Commons)
It was the first public institution for girls’ education, and was government-run. Although the school’s administration experienced some success in finding families interested in educating their daughters, the conservatives in Indian society rose up in protest against the school, discouraging their neighbours and relatives from sending their girls to study there. Families who succumbed to the social pressure withdrew their girls, till the number of students dwindled to just seven. The scenario changed by the end of the year, writes Naga, because some girls came back, increasing the number of students on the roll to 34.
Bethune’s initiative appears to have inspired philanthropic Indians to engage in similar endeavours. For instance, Raja Radhakanta Deb soon started a school for girls inside his large rajbari in Sovabazar, 15 days after Bethune’s institute started operations. After opening the Calcutta Female School, Bethune then purchased a new plot of land belonging to the Government of Bengal in Cornwallis Square, adjacent to the Calcutta Female School, and established another educational institution for girls, called the ‘Hindu Female School’ in 1849 with significant financial support from Dakshinaranjan Mukherjee.
Zamindar Dakshinaranjan Mukherjee gifted Bethune five and a half bighas of land for building a school, that later turned into Bethune college. (Wikimedia Commons)
In December 1850, Bethune appointed Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar as secretary to the school, in what proved to be a masterstroke. Naga writes that Vidyasagar’s biographer Sambhu Chandra Vidyaratna acknowledged in the biography that this appointment encouraged many Hindu families to send their girls to Bethune’s school.
In December 1850, Bethune appointed Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar as secretary to the school, in what proved to be a masterstroke. (Wikimedia Commons)
Thirty years after its founding, the school became a college, named after its founder. Chakravorty believes that the architecture of the building deeply impacted the students who enrolled in the institution, more than one realises. “It is a one-storey building with an open courtyard. There are Corinthian columns with a supporting pediment and a sculptured balustrade,” she explains. Built in the neoclassical style, the design included an open terrace and wooden french windows, a lot of which can still be seen on the building’s exterior.
“The openness of the layout was attractive to the girls, who were till then confined in their homes. Many of the girls wrote about (the architecture) in their memoirs. It did have an impact on their lives,” says Chakravorty. Chameli Basu, a gifted student who later went on to teach Physics at her alma mater, and passed out in the same year as Bina Das, specifically mentions the architecture of the institution. “She came from a conservative family and the openness of the space was overwhelming for her.”
While many teachers of Bethune College were Indian, the heads of the institution for the longest time remained English. In texts that Chakravorty found in the college library during her research, records of one particular incident stands out, she says. “The first mention of the student’s political consciousness can be found in a text in the college library from 1915. Anne Louis Janeau, the principal of Bethune, wrote that the students once wanted to go to a religious meeting but she suspected it was a political gathering.” It is one of the earliest records that indicate that although the institution was established for the education of Indian girls, there was little tolerance for ideas and initiatives that could be perceived to be anti-British in nature.
One of the most significant incidents in the history of Bethune College occurred when the Simon Commission arrived in 1928. This incident finds mention in Bina Das’ memoir where she recalls how she along with a group of fellow students, organised their first student protest against the Commission and faced threats from the college administration and Mrs. Wright, the English principal, if they did not apologise. Wright and the Director of Public Information collectively warned the students that if they didn’t return to their classes, they would be expelled and their scholarships would be withdrawn.
Bina Das in her memoir recalls how she along with a group of fellow students, organised their first student protest against the Simon Commission in 1928. (Wikimedia Commons)
Led by Das, the students refused to comply and the agitation became so strong that it spread outside the college. Das recalls in her memoir that Wright, “the overbearing Englishwoman”, was forced to resign from service and was compelled to leave the institution. This protest was one of the most important occurrences in the history of the institution and the college has an entire file on the subject in its archives today. “It wasn’t just a struggle, but an active choice to get involved,” says Chakravorty of this protest.
The 1930s were turbulent times with more students becoming actively involved in the freedom struggle. “The girls were inspired by the Bolshevik Revolution. Kamala Das Gupta wrote in her memoir that most of the girls read banned books that were hidden under their textbooks; books like Pather Dabi, Maxim Gorky’s Mother,” says Chakravorty.
Chakravorty recalls the writings of Malati Guha Ray, an exceptional student at Bethune, who wrote in her memoirs of an incident when British police descended upon Bethune College in search of Kalpana Dutta, a member of the underground group Chhtari Sangha, who had left the institution to engage more fully in revolutionary activities. “Guha Ray wrote about how the principal was unhappy that students were participating in revolutionary activities and banned groups.”
By the 20th century, other educational institutions for women started opening up in Calcutta, like Loreto College, a morning section at Ashutosh College only for women and Victoria College. “When Presidency (College, now named University), started taking in women in 1944, Bethune began losing out on bright students who were more attracted to Presidency,” says Chakravorty.
The former students of Bethune haven’t mentioned teachers as inspiration in their struggle for India’s freedom, says Chakravorty, but the role of the institution cannot be discounted for the opportunities that it provided to women at a time when they were so few in number. Over 171 years after it first began as the ‘Calcutta Female School’, the only pathway for formal education for women in Asia, Bethune College’s own role as a revolutionary institution can perhaps only be fully understood in a re-reading of the memoirs of the lives of the women it shaped and altered over the decades.
source: http://www.indianexpress.com / Indian Express / Home> Research / by Neha Banka / Kolkata – August 14th, 2020
The Second World War, the Korean War, the Indo-Pakistan wars… Major General Premangsu Chowdry has seen them all. A salute to the Indian Army veteran, forever young at 100
Major General Premangsu Chowdry of the Indian Army is an extraordinary man, with a military and corporate career par excellence. He took active part in the Second World War operations in North Africa, Middle East and Italy; did post-war General Staff assignments in Japan with the British Commonwealth Occupational Forces (BCOF) and in the Headquarter of Supreme Commander Allied Forces (SCAP) commanded by General Douglas McArthur; with the British Commonwealth Division during the Korean War 1950-53; and fought in all the three India-Pakistan wars of 1948, 1965, 1971.
I am fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend quality time with the 99 years young ‘fighting fit’ General and relate to his extensive war experience. He with his contemporaries shaped the Indian Army since Indian Independence in 1947, notably, General (later Field Marshal) KM Cariappa, OBE, the first Commander-in Chief of Independent India; General KS Thimayya, DSO, Chief of Army Staff (1957-1961); and General (later Field Marshal) Sam Bahadur Manekshaw, MC, Chief of Army Staff (1969-1973), legend of the India-Pakistan war in 1971.
The General is to be applauded for his amazing and sharp memory to recall dates/years, names and places from his military career since 1941. The General celebrated being 100 years young on 1 May.
General Chowdry hails from Barisal town on the banks of Kirtan Kola river, then in East Bengal, now in Bangladesh. The family was well known as the ‘Chowdrys from Loha Ghar’ in Comilla District having zamindar credentials in that era. The General’s grandfather was the Superintendent of Prisons in Dacca, Bengal, the first Indian to have held that post in the 19th century. His father was the treasurer to the District Commissioner of Barisal in the early 1900s.
After completing his schooling at Barisal, where he received the gold medal for standing first in his matriculation exam, young Prem did his Bachelors and Masters at St Xaviers College, Calcutta University. Prem studied Arts with English Honours and was placed in the order of merit in the Bachelors programme.
A soldier is born
While he had plans of joining the Indian Civil Services (ICS), recruitment to the ICS had ceased due to the emerging World War in 1939. Prem instead opted for and joined the 1st batch of the Bangalore Cadet College, structured as a British Public School and which became the Officer Training Academy (OTA) for commissioning into the British Indian Army.
On 21 December 1941, Prem was commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant into the ‘Royal Garhwal Rifles’ and joined at the Garhwal Regimental Centre at Lansdowne, which is present Uttarakhand. He was one of the first commissioned Indian officer into the ‘Royal’ Regiment.
After the initial training at the Regimental Centre, in 1942 Prem was posted to the 3rd Battalion Garhwal Rifles and served with them in the Western Sahara desert, Egypt, Cyprus, Iraq, Syria, Palestine and finally in the Italian campaign. In North Africa, the battalion was part of the 5th Indian Division and took part in the ‘Battle of Tobruk’. The fierce battle cost the battalion dearly, and they lost 12 officers and over 500 soldiers. The battalion was withdrawn and moved to Cyprus to rest, recuperate and await reinforcements from the Garhwal Regimental Centre.
Prem was sent for a Weapons Course at the Military School at the Allies military base in Gaza, where he excelled and then was ordered to be transferred to the Gaza Military School as an Instructor, a rare accomplishment because he was one of the first officers of Indian origin to be posted as an Instructor to the School. However the posting order was withdrawn at Prem’s request since he wished to remain with his troops involved in operations. After six months ‘Rest, Relief and Reinforcement’ in Cyprus, which included ‘Raid Operations’ in the Greek Islands, Prem and his battalion were deployed for training under the 9th British Army in the Middle East. From 1943 the battalion, as part of the 10th Indian Division, was actively involved in the ‘Italian Campaign’, where the Division was part of the 8th British Army commanded by General Bernard Montgomery, later Field Marshal, 1st Viscount Montgomery of Alamein.
Prem’s outstanding performance in the Italian Campaign earned him a recommendation for the ‘Military Cross’
Onward to Italy
Prem and his battalion were involved in the Italian Campaign for almost two years until May 1945. The battalion was deployed for operations in the Taranto Sector and in the Eastern and Central Sectors along the Apennine Mountains; they fought battles in ‘River Crossing’ operations at Sangro, Garigliano and Senio.
Prem’s outstanding performance in the Italian Campaign earned him a recommendation for the ‘Military Cross’—but the vagaries in the fog of war instead earned him the gallantry award ‘Mentioned in Dispatches’—his first of the three, two of which follow in the 1948 and the 1965 India-Pakistan wars. Thereafter, in 1944 Prem was promoted out of turn to the rank of a Major when he was just 24 years of age, the youngest officer to achieve the rank at that age.
Prem was the first Indian origin Major in the ‘Royal Battalion’, superseding fellow British Officers in the battalion, thereby exemplifying his high officer leadership quotient.
At the end of World War II, Prem was selected as one of the three officers, with 10 Battalion Commissioned Officers (BCO) and 25 Other Ranks to represent and lead the 10 Indian Division in the Allies Victory March in London in 1945.
Return to India
In October 1945, Prem and his Battalion 3 Garhwal Rifles returned to Lansdowne. The Battalionwas thereafter deployed in the North West Frontier Province (NWFP—currently in Pakistan) at Campbellpore forming part of an experimental Infantry Brigade responsible for testing new weapons and tactics in Waziristan and the Swat Valley. The core task of the Battalion and the Brigade was to suppress the Hazara tribal uprising in NWFP region. At the end of the tenure, Prem was posted as the Training Commander at the Garhwal Regimental Centre at Lansdowne.
After the India-Pakistan Partition, in 1948, Prem was posted back to his battalion 3 Garhwal Rifles deployed in the Kashmir region for the 1948 India-Pakistan war. The Battalion as part of the 160 Infantry Brigade was responsible to clear the Baramullah-Uri axis which they accomplished under heavy odds. Prem earned his second gallantry award ‘Mention-in-Dispatches’ in the Kashmir operations.
Prem as a 28-year-old Lieutenant Colonel was given the prestigious offer to command the 3rd Battalion the 5th Gorkha Rifles (Frontier Force). The Battalion provided support to the Hyderabad State police in their action against the Nizam-ruled princely Hyderabad State to ensure that the State remained in the Indian Union.
Prem thereafter undertook the entrance exam for admission into the Defence Services Staff College (DSSC) at Wellington, Tamil Nadu. In 1949-50 Prem underwent the 3rd DSSC Course where he attained the second position in merit and was subsequently posted as the General Staff Officer Grade 1 to Headquarter East Punjab Area in Jullundur commanded then by Major General SPP Thorat.
In December 1950, Prem was chosen by the Commander-in-Chief of the Indian Army, General KM Cariappa to take up the post of General Staff Officer Grade 1 (GSO 1) at the Headquarter British Commonwealth Occupation Forces (BCOF) in Japan. The appointment was another feather in the cap for Prem and his military career, and he was the first and only Indian origin officer to have been part of the BCOF.
Prem’s position as the Liaison Officer at the Headquarter UN Forces enabled him regular professional interaction with General Douglas McArthur, an honour and privilege which Prem recalls with clarity and great pride. In 1951 Prem was posted as GSO 1 to the 1st British Commonwealth Division in Korea. The Division was actively engaged in the ‘Korean War’ in the peninsula. Prem spent a year in the Division and excelled.
Return to India, and finding love
In October 1952 Prem returned to India and was given his second command of an Infantry Battalion, the 2nd Battalion the 5th Gorkha Rifles at Ferozepur as part of the 43 Infantry Brigade. In 1953, Prem got married to Sheila Devichand in New Delhi. The General won the heart and mind of Sheila, in fact he was a dashing and suave gentleman able to leave a lasting impression on anyone who met with him. At 100 years Prem still carries that aura and gentry to win over people. The love of his life for 57 years, Sheila passed away in 2013.
Ethiopia and the emperor
At the end 1960, Prem was appointed by General KS Thimayya, DSO, the Chief of Army Staff to be Commandant of the Ethiopian Military Academy in Harar, reporting directly to Emperor Haille Selassie of Ethiopia. Prem was also an unofficial military advisor to the Emperor. This tenure over the next three years built a lasting association between the Emperor and Prem.
Back to India
After the Ethiopian tenure Prem was posted for the second time to command a brigade, the 120 Infantry Brigade at Rajouri, as part of 25 Infantry Division. In 1965 Prem was posted as Brigadier General Staff (BGS) and acting Chief of Staff of 1 Corps at Mathura which took part in the second India-Pakistan war in the same year. Prem earned his third gallantry award ‘Mention-in-Dispatches’ in this war for his exemplary contribution to the war effort.
In 1967, at the age of 47, Prem was posted as the General Officer Commanding (GOC) Madhya Pradesh Area. The following year Prem took command of the 3 Infantry Division at Leh which he commanded until 1970. Prem earned his Param Vishisht Seva Medal from VV Giri, the President of India during this command for his overall meritorious service and the specific job of organising and personally directing the relief programme for the local civilian population after an earthquake struck the Ladakh region. Prem’s efforts saved many lives.
In December 1970, Prem took over as the General Officer Commanding (GOC) Bengal Area. This was a vital responsibility since the Area was required to deal with the violent Naxalite problem in Bengal State. In order to do so, Prem was given significant responsibility and authority, and had under direct and indirect command, the three Army divisions then based in Bengal, the Railway, State Police, CRPF, BSF and the Home Guards. During the 1971 India-Pakistan war which led to the creation of Bangladesh, Bengal Area under Prem’s leadership provided vital support to Eastern Command. Leading into the war, the Bengal Area had the crucial responsibility of managing and attending to thousands of refugees pouring into India from East Pakistan.
From the battlefield to the boardroom
On 30 April 1974, after 33 years of meritorious service, Prem retired from the Army and pursued a successful career in the corporate world. In civil life, initially in Calcutta, Prem held senior executive positions in the corporate and public sector including, Director of Shaw Wallace; Managing Director of Durgapore project, a public sector undertaking to which he was appointed by the then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi and the Chief Minister of West Bengal Siddhartha Shankar Ray; and Managing Director of Sankey Wheels. Prem’s contribution to the undertakings enabled them to turn around their losses and be profitable enterprises.
In 1979 Prime Minister Indira Gandhi directly appointed Prem as the Chairman and Managing Director of Incheck Tyres & National Rubber. The position held equivalence to a Minister of Industries and was part of the Appointments Committee of the Cabinet at the federal level.
In 1983, at 63 years Prem took permanent retirement. The General and his wife spent time with their three sons Rahoul, Drone and Kunal who lived in Sydney and Dubai. The General currently resides in Sydney with his eldest son Rahoul. An avid golfer into his mid-80s, Prem never missed a chance to swing his golf clubs at the Delhi Golf Club and the Manly Golf Club in Sydney. The Manly Club honoured the General over an evening sit-down dinner with all the members in 2010.
Prem is associated with many charitable organisations and is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society United Kingdom. The General was also an active member of the Royal United Services Institute for Defence and Security Studies in Sydney.
A salute to the centenarian.
The writer is an Indian Army Veteran
source: http://www.theindiansun.com.au / The Indian Sun / Home> India / by Colonel Joseph Malhews / August 14th, 2020
Visionary geologist PN Bose pioneered mineral exploration in India
While he could have easily made a life for himself in England, Pramathanath Bose – nationalist to the core – chose to return to India. Sources by The Telegraph
Pramathanath Bose, a scientist and geologist who lived in the 19th century, has many firsts to his name. Marked by an ardent passion for geology, he pioneered mineral exploration in India and was responsible for the Tatas setting up a steel plant in Sakchi, better known as Jamshedpur.
Born in 1855 in Gaipur village in West Bengal, Bose completed his studies from Krishnagar College with flying colours before moving to Calcutta for further studies. In 1874, he graduated from St Xavier’s College. He travelled to England on the Gilchrist Scholarship to earn an undergraduate degree in science. Bose was in fact the first Indian to get a BSc degree from a British university. He went on to get a diploma from the Royal School of Mines. While he could have easily made a life for himself in England, Bose — a nationalist to the core — chose to return to India.
In 1880, he joined the Geological Survey of India (GSI) as assistant superintendent, the first Indian to hold this post. He served with great distinction for 20 years, assiduously attempting to promote industrial expansion by developing geological resources, particularly coal and iron ore. He discovered the Dalli-Rajhara iron ore deposits in what is now Chattisgarh, which became the captive mines for Bhilai Steel Plant, set up exactly a century after Bose’s birth. Mining started in the Ranigunj coalfields in 1774 but it was under Bose that the operations became systematic and structured.
Next, he turned his attention to Sikkim, not a favourable area for mineral extraction because of inaccessibility, rugged terrain, excessive rainfall leading to frequent landslides and a thick mantle of vegetation. Studies revealed that Sikkim was rich in deposits of copper, iron, lead and zinc, with traces of cobalt, gypsum, graphite, limestone, dolemite, gold, silver and tungsten.
Bose’s tireless efforts in Burma, now Myammar, too were rewarded by the discovery of a variety of minerals. Later, geological studies carried in the royal states of Indore and Kashmir too delineated vast areas with mineral deposits.
Bose’s work in the Narmada valley helped understand the rock structure of the Deccan as well as open up new areas of study such as petrology, historical geology, mineralogy and fossils. He could determine the age of fossils by the radio-carbon method. He located the Gondwana layer in the Deccan which connects Indian history with Africa. His theoretical as well as practical knowledge and his writings in the newsletters and bulletins of GSI helped contextualise Indian geology and elevated the study of Indian geological science in the world.
Bose discovered the unique carbonatite rock and means to extract minerals from granite. Due to his perseverance, the GSI was able to extract manganese and iron ore in Durg, Chattisgarh. In spite of this, Bose was superseded by his British junior, T.J. Holland, as director of GSI in 1903. Miffed, he resigned.
After his voluntary retirement, Bose became technical adviser to the Maharaja of Mayurbhanj. This area in Odisha is rich in mineral deposits, and while surveying it, Bose discovered abundant iron deposits at Garumahishani. It had not escaped Bose’s observation that all his previous discoveries were utilised by the British. This time, he arranged for swadeshi industrialist Jamsetji Tata to sign an accord with the king, Sriram Chandra Bhanjadeo, to establish Tisco (Tata Iron and Steel Company). According to Jamsetji’s biographer, Frank Harris, Bose suggested the factory be set up at Sakchi, at the confluence of the Subarnarekha and Kharkai rivers. He also inspired Jamsetji to set up the Indian Institute of Science at Bangalore.
Bose played a pivotal role in the establishment of the Bengal Technical Institute, now called Jadavpur University, where he was the first principal. He also held regular lectures at the Dawn Society and the Indian Association for Cultivation of Science. He understood that without economic development India’s progress would remain a dream.
Bose wrote books on science in Bengali, including Prakritik Itihaas, which explored the natural history of India. He also published three volumes of the History of Hindu Civilisation During British Rule. This great scientist, who died in 1935, was also a humanist greatly interested in the heritage and culture of India.
The writer is a science historian and author of Science and Nationalism in Bengal
source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph, online edition / Home> Science-tech / by Chittabrata Palit / January 19th, 2020
With a career of about fourteen years, Dasgupta have approximately 8,000 songs under his belt including 80 Bengali movies – his unique contribution was the invention of a shorthand method for swaralipi.
In the 1940s, he was a star composer. He had many firsts to his name. He was the most educated man across the industry in those days. He came to the rescue of singers who were trying to break into the music world. He gave music in the most successful films of the 40s. The sale of his private records touched an all-time high. Yet the man behind many unforgettable melodies has been forgotten – he was Kamal Dasgupta.
Kamal was born on July 28, 1912, in Kalia village in the district of Jasore, then in British India (now in Bangladesh). He was initiated into music by his father Prashanna Dasgupta. He later learnt it from his brother Bimal Dasgupta. Afterwards, he became a disciple of the legendary Dilip Kumar Roy and Ustad Zamiruddin Khan. He did his matriculation from Calcutta Academy. Later, he completed his B Com from Komila Victoria Collage. He joined Banaras Hindu University (BHU) for his masters. He earned his PhD from BHU for his work on Mirabai’s bhajaans and music.
Kamal Dasgupta was a versatile musical genius. He used to sing modern songs in Bangala, Hindi, Urdu and Tamil.
He was a brilliant composer who composed around 8,000 songs. His first composition was recorded in 1932 in the voice of Satyaboti. His composition was classical based and folk music. Later he tended to lean towards Thumri style and Naats.
In 1935, Kamal Dasgupta joined the Gramophone Company of India in Calcutta as a music director. During this stint, he developed a close and lasting association with the poet Nazrul Islam. They became fond of each other and the relationship lasted for eleven years (1934-45). The culmination of their friendship were 400 songs – inspired by the works of the poet.
Calcutta was the major hub of Indian films produced in the 1930s. New Theatres and Madan Pictures were the main studios along with the other companies. After earning a name with his compositions, Kamal tried his luck in films. His first picture was Pandit Moshai (1936) in Bangla which was followed by Sarbjanin, Vivahotsab and Devyani between 1936-1942.
The legendary actor, director Prathmesh Chandra Barua was impressed by his music and gave him a break in Jawaab in 1942. PC Barua directed both the version in Hindi and Bangla. The film was an instant hit. It had cult numbers like Toofan mail ye duniya toofan mail, Ae chand chhup na jana and Kuchh yaad na rahe.
Kamal Dasgupta’s next film was MP productions social, Hospital, starring Kanan Devi, Ahindra Choudhary and Heeralal. Its hit number was, Ghata chhayi ghanghor. The very same year he did another Barua Production, Ranee. The cast included J Ganguly, Kalawati, PC Barua and Jamuna. Like his earlier films, his music became popular.
Kamal Dasgupta was as successful in films as he was in his private recording career. In 1944, he moved to Bombay and did the film Meghdoot (1945), based on the Sanskrit poet Kalidas. Leela Desai and Sahu Modak were in the lead. The film was directed by the legendary Debki Kumar Bose.
During his stay in Bombay, he did several films across different genres. His next film was Arabian Nights, directed by Niren Lahari. The cast included Kanan Devi, Nawab and Robin Majumdar. All the numbers of the film became very popular – Suno suno kya ek naya fasana, Hum dil ko, dil hamko samjhaye, Mujhe sapno se kaun jagaye re and Aankhon ki roshni hai dil ki ye ye chandani hai. The same year, he did a social film Bindiya, starring Ragini, Amar, M Shakeer and E Billimoriya. The film was directed by CM Luhar. Kamal Das Gupta used the voices of Anima Dasgupta, Kalyani Das, Hemant Kumar and Amar. Its hit numbers were: Hanso hanso ae kamal kali, Jeevan sargam pe aye jaa geet suhane, Meri aankhon mein ye aanshu nahi dil ki kahani hai and Chand pass hai raat andheri kyun.
His next film was the mythological Krishna Leela (1946) which was directed by Debki Kumar Bose and had Kanan Devi and Paresh Banerjee in the lead. The popular hits in this film were: Man mein basa le manmohan ko, Prabhu teri maya jo chahaye, Sawan ki rani aaiye, Chanda door gagan mein bulaye, More janam janam ke saathi, Bahein churaye jaat ho nirmal mohe jaan and Tera ghar man mera.
1946 was the busiest year for Kamal Das Gupta. He did Zameen Asmaan for director Dwarka Khosla, starring Ranjana, Jeevan and Kusum Deshpande. Its hit numbers were: Ek raat kabhi aisi aye, Papiha papiha to pee ko pukaar and Ek geet sunana hai hamein. Coming back to Calcutta, he did Faisala (1947) followed by Manmani. The film had Ragini and Jairaj in the lead. The film was directed by Sarvottam Badami. Its hit numbers were: Ishare ishare mein duniya bana li, Baiman tori batiya jadu bhari and Ae chaman bata kyun hansta hai.
His last film with his mentor PC Barua was Iran Ki Ek Raat (1949) – a costume drama, starring Jamuna, Narang, Chandrakant and Chandrawati.
Its melodious number were: Ulfat mein jise banaya tha, Chhalke chhalke sarabein jawani ke palaye, Kaun hai teer andaaj bada, Ae dil kya and Khel hai ye zindagi.
His last release was Phulwari in 1951. He had 40 films to his credit. Following this, the maverick composer got completely disillusioned by the film industry and recording companies. His favourite songs which were sold in the lakhs didn’t carry his name on the jackets.
At the age of 44, he married his favourite singer, Firoza Begum and embraced Islam. Kamal Dasgupta, by now, became Kareemuddin Ahmed. He kept on doing movies whenever an offer came. His last film in Bangla was Bodhu Baran in 1967. He shifted to Dhaka. When Bangladesh became independent, he became a citizen in 1972.
The composer was a man of taste. He owned a Buick, a rare thing in Calcutta in the 1950s. He was a great human being. He fed hundreds of people during the Bengal famine. He was also extremely fond of cricket. He was blessed with three sons – Shafin Ahmed, Hamin Ahmed and Tahsin Ahmed. They followed their father in music and cricket. Two brothers played cricket at the state level and Hamin Ahmed was selected for the national team of Bangladesh.
Kamal Das Gupta with his failing health and lack of proper medical treatment succumbed to his ailments and passed away in Dhaka on July 28, 1974, at the age of 62.
source: http://www.millenniumpost.in / Millennium Post / Home> Sunday Post> Beyond Bygone / by Sharad Dutt / March 07th, 2020
India and Bangladesh have enhanced cooperation in shipping and inland water trade in the recent years.
MEA Spokesperson Anurag Srivastava
New Delhi :
The first-ever container cargo from Kolkata via Bangladesh’s Chattogram port has reached Agartala, the External Affairs Ministry said on Thursday, terming it a “historic milestone” in the Indo-Bangladesh connectivity and economic partnership.
Union minister Mansukh Mandaviya had last week flagged off the first trial container ship from Kolkata carrying cargo meant for Agartala that reached the city via the Chattogram port.
MEA Spokesperson Anurag Srivastava said it will help in further development of the northeastern region.
“Another historic milestone in India-Bangladesh connectivity & economic partnership as the first ever container cargo from Kolkata via Chattogram port reaches Agartala.
This will help in further development of the north eastern region,” he said in a tweet.
India and Bangladesh have enhanced cooperation in shipping and inland water trade in the recent years.
Under the Protocol on Inland Water Transit and Trade, in addition to the six existing Ports of Call, five more in each country have been added recently, the Ministry of Shipping said in a statement last week.
A Port of Call is a place where a ship stops during a voyage to enable the loading and unloading of cargo.
Dredging of inland waterway routes is ongoing under a pact signed by the two countries on development of fairway in selected stretches of Bangladesh waterways, with the Government of India bearing 80 per cent of the project expenditure and the balance being borne by the neighbouring country, it said.
Cruise services have also commenced between the two countries, promoting tourism and people-to-people contacts, it said.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Nation / by PTI / July 23rd, 2020
He had been admitted to a private hospital for a procedure and later his Covid test report came positive.
Manabendra Bandyopadhyay / sourced by The Telegraph
Manabendra Bandyopadhyay, a former professor of comparative literature at Jadavpur University, passed away on Tuesday. He was 82 and is survived by daughter Kaushalya.
Bandyopadhyay was among the five students of the first batch of the comparative literature department at JU, which was launched by poet Buddhadev Bose in 1956.
He had been admitted to a private hospital for a procedure, said a professor of the department. “The procedure went fine and he was supposed to go home. But he had some complications. His Covid test report came on Tuesday afternoon and it was positive,” the professor said.
Bandyopadhyay was widely known for translating Latin American literature into Bengali.
Ipshita Chanda, a JU teacher who did her PhD under him, said: “Death does not diminish professor Manabendra Bandyopadhyay’s presence as the scholar, translator and ‘rasika’ who introduced the Bengali reader to literatures of the ‘third world’ as well as to literatures in other Indian languages. Not only did he translate prolifically, he also, on principle, produced scholarly and creative work in Bangla, inspiring and encouraging his students to do the same. He was not only a PhD supervisor but a mentor, a guide and above all an understanding and humorous friend.”
Another teacher said he introduced Gabriel García Márquez in the syllabus of the department before the Latin American author won the Nobel prize.
“He was the one who translated Jules Verne in Bengali. Dev Sahitya Kutir would publish the abridged version initially. Later, as his expertise grew, he started coming up with unabridged versions,” said a teacher of the department.
source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph, online edition / Home> West Bengal> Calcutta / by Special Correspondent / August 05th, 2020
When citizens become enemies, such an episode cannot be cannot be pushed to the recesses of public memory.
The internment centre at Deoli. Credit: indiadeoli.wordpress.com
It’s in the nature of history that some stories are seldom told, if at all. The story of the Chinese community in this country, summarily packed off to internment camps after India was defeated by China in the 1962 war, is one such episode pushed to the recesses of public memory. There has been little discourse around the subject, and no official acknowledgement of the injustice done to the Chinese Indian community.
Rita Chowdhury rescues that slice of history from oblivion in her historical novel, Chinatown Days. First published in Assamese in 2010 with the title Makam (named after the main Chinese settlement in the region), the book brings those fraught years to light. Overnight, Chinese Indian families were yanked out of their homes, split up, and herded onto trains to spend an unknown number of days, months, or even years in a prison camp in Deoli, a town in Rajasthan. A bewildered and anguished community tried, in vain, to make sense of its sudden degraded status as prisoners.
Chinatown Days reveals how wars scapegoat people who have nothing to do with lighting or stoking the fire. People who simply happen to be on the wrong side of history at a juncture – like that one – when passions are riled up, and governments are locked in war. The stigma of internment, along with the absence of social and political conversation around the injustice, drove survivors of the Deoli camps into silence for nearly five decades.
As a fresh conflict between India and China surfaces with scenes of politicians and ordinary citizens calling for boycotting Chinese goods and trades , we may recall the plight of the Chinese community that suddenly found itself hemmed in from all sides because of a war that was not of their making.
Earlier this year, in their book, The Deoliwallahs: The True Story of the 1962 Chinese-Indian Internment, authors Joy Ma and Dilip D’Souza used interviews to capture the voices of the Chinese community, spanning generations, now dispersed across India and the rest of the world.
Born in Deoli, in her section of the preface, Ma writes : “The Camp is something I lived with from the earliest moment … For us, the survivors of the interment … the stigma and effects have lasted a lifetime, made deeper by the lack of information about the incident. And the experience remains hard to forget no matter how far we have come.” She now lives in the US.
Survivors speak of their experiences in the documentary, Beyond Barbed Wires: A Distant Dawn, saying that even a word of apology from the Indian government would go some way in helping them negotiate the past and heal its wounds. “The total population of Kolkata’s Chinatown was around 30,000, After 1962, there are hardly 2000 Chinese living in India,” Ming-Tung Hsieh, a former detainee, says in the film.
If and when they see the light of day, such narratives show the fragility of existence in a country that you may not have been born in, but one you have embraced as your own, and have been living in for generations.
The genesis of the Chinese community in India dates back to at least the 19th century, when the British East India Company hired workers from China to launch the tea industry in India. Citing Kolkata’s National Library records, Jaideep Mazumdar, in an essay, identifies Yong Atchew as the first Chinese person to settle in Calcutta in 1780. Atchew launched a sugar mill around which grew one of India’s first Chinese communities. By the middle of the 19th century, there was a sizable Chinese population living in India. And at the time of Indian independence, descendants of the early Chinese workers – some of whom were transported to the country as slaves – had become integrated with local cultures, considering themselves citizens of India.
Chinatown in Kolkata wears a deserted look on June 19, 2020. Photo: PTI/Swapan Mahapatra
A group of Chinese workers brought to Assam by the East India Company in the 1830s, many of them indentured or trafficked, form the Chinese community in Chowdhury’s novel. At a time when the ‘outsider’ vs ‘insider’ debate in our public and private conversations has become layered with such corrosiveness, Chowdhury portrays a seamless assimilation of the Chinese community within Assamese society. Assamese and Chinese women and men get married into each other’s communities, the Chinese speak fluent Assamese, while the Assamese eagerly wait for the celebrations of the Chinese New Year. Chowdhury’s novel closely follows the reality of the times. In today’s acidic atmosphere of suspicion, one wonders if this is what utopia looks like.
The India-China war, and particularly India’s humiliating defeat at the hands of the Chinese, in one swoop destroyed that equilibrium. The Indian government, then headed by Jawaharlal Nehru, chose to treat the Chinese community as ‘enemies’ for their association with the enemy country, even though China was not just geographically but culturally distant to the Chinese community in India. Overnight, Chinese Indians across India, particularly in the Northeastern regions and Kolkata, became suspects in the eyes of the government and society. Chowdhury presents a vivid portrayal of the police suddenly appearing on the doorsteps of unsuspecting people, giving them barely ten minutes to leave for an unknown destination, ordering them to leave behind their belongings.
The parallel with Japanese Americans
The story of the wartime incarcerated Chinese prisoners finds a parallel with the internment of over 1000,000 Japanese Americans after the attack on Pearl Harbour during the Second World War in 1942. In reaction, then US president, Franklin Roosevelt, signed an executive order forcing Americans of Japanese ancestry to be removed to concentration camps for five years. Almost two-thirds of the detainees were Japanese Americans, born in the US. They had never visited Japan. In 1988, Ronald Reagan signed the ‘Civil Liberties Act of 1988,’ formally apologising for the internment of American citizens. This happened, in no small measure, because ordinary Americans protested and spoke out against the incarceration of fellow citizens.
“The Chinese Indians did not have any civil liberties group supporting them. Not one group – not one person objected to internment of Chinese Indians. Deoli camp was done like a playbook from Japanese internment … but for the lack of representation in India … there is very little support from groups…” said Joy Ma in a conversation around the book.
The former Chinese detainees still await an acknowledgement of the injustice done to their community. There are still questions hanging in the air: Who accepts you as a citizen? Who will stand by you in a time of crisis? What happens to a community if the country they believe to be their own enters into war with the country of their ancestors?
I scarcely need to point out that these questions have not gone away, for those who suffered that injustice, or those who suffer injustices that are still ongoing.
source: http://www.thewire.in / The Wire / Home> Analysis> Rights / by Monobina Gupta / June 23rd, 2020
These men from Kolkata sport only HMT watches and boast an impressive collection of the brand.
Madan Mohan Chakraborty begins by making an irrefutable statement: that a watch is a watch; whether it costs a hundred rupees or a million, it shows you the same time.
He should know better. His fascination for watches dates back to his childhood. “A watch is a consummate combination of art and science,” says Mr. Chakraborty, CEO and managing director of a European technology MNC. “I was always attracted by design, art, engineering, accuracy and precision, and in a watch, you get it all.”
But what sets him apart is that a large chunk of his collection consists of HMT watches. Even though he owns many expensive brands as well, it is always an HMT that adorns his wrist. “Here, look at this,” he shows off an HMT Surabhi, “this is better than most Omegas. And this is HMT Priya, look how gorgeous it is!”
HMT — set up as Hindustan Machine Tools in 1953 — began making watches in 1961 and the first batch of its hand-wound watches was released by then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. For decades, HMT remained synonymous with a wrist watch before, towards the end of the century, Titan took its place, a process that was soon followed by the easy availability of internationally reputed brands in the market.
As an icing on the cake for Mr. Chakraborty, his best friend, Debasish Singh Roy, also happens to be an HMT collector. “I collect coins, cameras, currency notes, but watches are something that I collect as well as use. HMT has been a part of my life, right from the thread ceremony to marriage. I feel good when I think that my watches will go to my daughters and the generation after. Spending time with my collection was one of the most interesting things I did during the lockdown,” said Mr. Singh Roy, a businessman and a sports enthusiast.
Why this fascination for HMT?
Mr. Chakraborty replied on behalf of both: “HMT carries the ability of India. It demonstrates the capability of India, second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after days and generations after generations. We feel extremely proud when we walk in the by-lanes of Switzerland with an HMT Janata or a Pilot on our wrists. People who understand watches can tell whether a watch is mechanical or battery-operated.”
Mr. Singh Roy said: “Many are not even aware that HMT watches are still available on their official site. Many are also not even aware that most HMT factories have closed down and the last one may close down soon. The irony is that HMT was not making money when the watches were available within Rs. 1000. Now when you have to pay between Rs. 1,000 and Rs. 12,000 to get an HMT, there is a queue. HMT failed as there was no effort in its branding. When the world is talking about going green, it’s time for us to stop using battery-operated or even smart watches.”
Mr. Chakraborty, as he fished out more sturdy-looking HMTs from his collection, added: “There are many reasons that HMT should be revived. If properly promoted, the entire globe is your market. You don’t need exclusive showrooms to sell watches. HMT-lovers groups active online will promote the brand. Atmanirbharta [or self-reliance, readvocated recently by Prime Minister Narendra Modi] must be an action, not just an empty slogan.”
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Kolkata / by Bishwanath Ghosh / Kolkata – July 09th, 2020
There is a house that oftentimes appears in my dreams. And no, it is not called Manderley. In fact, it is not a house at all, but an apartment building of the old fashioned sort. And most likely it never had a name.
On the banks of the Hooghly river, in the small town of Sahaganj, a subsidiary of the British tyre company of Dunlop had set up workshop in the early 20th century. The residential colony that overlooked the river was referred to as the “Compound” by locals. It had been built in the mid 1800s for the officers of the American Jute Mill. After the mill shut down, Dunlop acquired a large expanse of land in Sahaganj and set up a factory there and what was known as the “Estate” — a gaggle of red brick apartment blocks, a hospital, schools, a club, a swimming pool, a co-operative, a hostel for trainees referred to as the bower, playgrounds and everything possible that the employees and their families might need. It also acquired the Compound and its surrounding land.
The first time I stood before the green gates to the Compound I was no more than five. I remember looking up at the enormous gates with the spikes on top and the pink and purple bougainvilleas wrapped around them and thinking it would hurt real bad if I tried to pluck a flower and somehow landed atop one of those pointy things.
Upon entering the Compound, the first building to the left was the house that now lives in my dreams. We used to call it the Green Flat.
Like I said, it was an old fashioned apartment building. Three apartments on either side. The front of the building had two or three concrete stairs with a stump for a stairhead on either side. Those stairs led to a winding wooden staircase. A red mat affixed with brass clamps covered the wooden stairs. And whenever anyone climbed them, they heaved like a heavy heart.
One evening, before we actually moved into the Green Flat, we went by to see the place. A group of children were just wrapping the evening’s play. They crowded around to inspect me, the new addition. “Which house,” one asked. “Which school,” asked someone else. One boy, who was a head taller than the rest, said out loud to no one in particular, “That house is haunted. Those dark patches on the cement stairs outside, those are ancient blood stains.”
So many years later, there are nights when I am back at that very spot, just under the gulmohar tree, looking up at the faded green house in the purple dusk, and the house staring back at me.
It is never the same dream, though it is the same house. Sometimes I am outside, sometimes I am on the stairs, my hand on the smooth dark wood of the bannister. At other times I am running down the never-ending sun verandah of the second-floor apartment that was our home for 11 months. There have also been times when I have dreamt that I am inside the building next to it, a more modern structure referred to as the “Highrise”. Our apartment in the Highrise was at a level higher than the Green Flat, and in my dream I am looking down at the other house and I can feel it glowering back at me.
Everyone who ever lived in the Green Flat had a story, even some of the grown-ups. The smell of coffee brewing at odd hours. Voices. The bars of an invisible piano. Only one person I knew claimed to have seen something, and though she was one of the adults no one believed her. I remember her telling some of us how she had folded her hands and prayed to the white blur to leave her alone, progress to another world.
I myself don’t remember seeing or hearing anything, but there is a memory of an evening that comes alive in my dreams. It must have been just a couple of weeks since we had moved in. I was in my room playing or reading. When I was done doing whatever it was, I realised I was home alone. The next couple of minutes I moved swiftly from room to room. To this day I remember my mounting anxiety, the sound of my own beating heart and the drone of the cicadas. For some reason that day I couldn’t run out of the house but remained confined to the verandah, pasted to the net of the window, howling for my mother in some unknown fear.
Today, I don’t remember anymore how that evening resolved itself. No big deal I assume or else the parents would have told me. But in my dreams now, revisiting that moment I am sure of a presence dark and sad. An undiscerning presence that wanted to be friends with a scared little girl.
In our 11 years in the Compound we changed houses four times. All the other houses also appear in my dreams. And not just the houses, sometimes I dream of the Club House. The inside of the club, where we watched movies on Sunday afternoons on a TV with shutters and a VCR — Mr India, Moses, Ben-Hur — as we munched on jam sandwiches. This was also where a lot of the parties were hosted throughout the year; there was much dancing and one time Lanadi fell and chipped her tooth. Then there was the billiards-cum-library room. Every Christmas, this is where we put up chartpapers with cottonwool tufts to mimic the North Pole. On the lawn overlooking the club we acted out the nativity play, had fancy dress parades and quiz contests, while the grown-ups used it for lawn bowling and skittles over Abdulda’s freshly baked mince pies and trayloads of Bloody Marys.
I dream of these spaces but the tether always is the Green Flat. In my dreams sometimes I am on a rickshaw winding down the road before the Club. There are chairs and tables on the lawn, but there is not a soul in sight. I look to my right and I cannot see Nirmalda, the bearer, on the club verandah, and the doors are shuttered fast. Only behind me there is something, and I know it is that thing from the Green Flat. And it wants to get into the rickshaw with me.
In every dream I am egged on by the thing into areas of the Compound I never realised I had paid any attention to. Sometimes I am inside the Highrise lift — the one with the green doors. Sometimes I am amidst overgrown grass and I am thinking where is Maalibhai, the same who had a pock-marked face, called a bouquet, “booket” and wore a sky blue fatua and dhoti. Often I am walking down the road that connected the Highrise with the bungalows. The morum tennis court is to my right. The two copper sulphate benches are to my left. And I want to feel happy, because I am finally home. I know the road will rise at an angle soon and the bottlebrush tree will loom into view and if I walk on for another minute or so I will get to smell the magnolia outside Bungalow No. 4. But I can never get to the magnolia tree, and behind me I can feel the thing from the Green Flat, closing in, closing in, closing in.
In other dreams I will be approaching the bungalows from the club side. The narrow road that wound past the vegetable and flower patches. When I get to Bungalow 1, our last address there, I want to just burst in through the netted back door into the pantry and past the broom cupboard and up the stairs into what used to be our room.
One dream, surprise, surprise, I manage to get in. And even in my dream I am thinking, I am finally home, well, almost.
The door swings open but inside there are no lights. I walk into the dining room and I find the table laid out. I peep into the small drawing room and it is empty. I see the telephone table with the stolid black telephone — 3025 is our number. The facing window still has that lace curtain, I note with relief. The door to the other drawing room is half open and I can spy the blue carpet as I start to take the stairs. Even in the dark, even in my hurry I notice the three framed birds on the landing, and then I reach the top. But it is all dark.
On a whim I make a dash for the parents’ room. But where are they? The fans are turning, the ACs are on, the giant bed is made. There is the dresser with the oval mirror and the half mirrors on either side like angel’s wings and a heavy bottle of Oil of Olay. By the time I walk into the dressing room with the full length mirror, I am frantic. I stare into the mirror but I cannot see my reflection. It is so dark I cannot see my hands. And I am thinking I have to turn the latch, if I cannot find my hands how will I turn the latch? And I know the thing from the Green Flat is in there watching me fumble and panic. Waiting to pounce.
***
Last to last winter the Sahai siblings were in town after many years. They wanted to see Sahaganj and the Compound and, thereafter, some of us. “For closure,” all three of them chimed. It is from them that I learnt that the place is in ruins. “It was a dreary sight,” said Shippradi. “So many trees and bushes all growing wild. The club, the pool, I could see nothing. The Green Flat was a khandahar,” she added.
source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph, online edition / Home> Culture> Heritage / by Upala Sen / February 22nd, 2020
