Pavan Srinath compares the lives of Krishnamacharya Purnaiah and Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord and finds similarities.
Krishnamacharya Purnaiah (also spelled Purnaiya) started managing the finances of Mysore under Hyder Ali, slowly moving to manage much of the state’s administration as well. Helping manage an easy transfer of power to Tipu upon the death of Hyder Ali, Purnaiah continued to be a close confidante and aide to Tipu Sultan. After the defeat of Tipu, he continued on under the British and was then appointed Dewan as the British allowed the Wodeyar family back into power in the early 19th century.
In 1857, Baadli ki Sarai suddenly shot into prominence, because it became the site of a landmark battle: the Battle of Baadli ki Sarai, fought on June 8, 1857, between about 4,000 rebels (who had occupied the sarai and were defending it) and the besieging British forces. The British won, and Baadli ki Sarai became, over the following years, almost a sort of pilgrimage for Empire-loving British tourists who came here to gloat over the wonderful victory.
In the post titled Recruitment and literacy in World War I: Evidence from colonial Punjab,Oliver Vanden Eynde argues that higher post-war literacy in the recruited areas like Punjab were due to the learning opportunities in the army.
The analysis confirms that, between 1911 and 1921, literacy rates (as well as the number of literate individuals) increased significantly in heavily recruited communities. This effect is strongest for men of military age, which is consistent with the hypothesis that soldiers learned to read and write on their foreign campaigns. My estimations suggest that for every ten additional soldiers recruited from a community, the number of literates in the community on average increased by three individuals after the war.
A large number of Indian soldiers fought in the First World War, especially in the Middle East and they are largely forgotten, writes Vedica Kant
However, the most significant campaign of the war for Indian troops took place in Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq). The Mesopotamia campaign started off as an entirely Indian Army operation. 588,717 Indians – i.e. nearly 40 per cent of all Indians who were involved in World War I – served in Mesopotamia, more than in any other single campaign during the war. In a parallel with Iraq’s more contemporary history, the decision to expand the conflict to Mesopotamia was driven by the desire for oil. The Government of India decided to deploy an expeditionary force in the region to protect its oil interests there. For a majority of Indians their experience of the war was not that of a bitter European winter but of the dramatic swings between extreme heat and dust and the chilly winters of the Arabian Desert.
The next carnival will be up on Dec 15th. Please send your nominations before that.
Learn from positives by identifying success – things done right.
Learn from failures by identifying mistakes – things gone wrong.
Modern, rather European or Western narrative of history, attempts to achieve the same goals, however, these methods are constrained by their own narrow paradigms:
Institutions, not society, are primarily responsible for “official” history
Narratives are based on a linear time-frame, absolute time lines and display an obsession to date everything
Materialistic markers and dating are used to competitively rank petrified civilisations
A western sense of civility (or an absence thereof) determines identification of “things gone wrong.” This “civility” is on fully display in highly flagellating what-if analyses, name calling, character assassinations and finger pointing.
Western methodologies for history are consistent with their polity – where institutions and state dominate over the lives of people. This is not only true today, but was true during Roman and Greek periods as well. Therefore it is not uncommon to find semi-hagiographic records of anyone associated with those institutions forming the basis of “historical records”. For example, we have a good idea about Plato’s lineage, how he got his name and who his siblings were while we have scarce information on where Aryabhata was born, who his parents were or who his teachers were.
If the goal is to learn from the positives and avoid repeating mistakes, how do dates and lineages matter? Analytical processes have their place in any intellectual framework, however, when it comes to history, why are absolutes important? The answer becomes clear if one attempts to understand the roots of western ethos, polity and a progressive, linear view of time.
Progress versus the कालचक्र (Kaalachakra – wheel of time)
This linearity lends itself to a near obsession with the concept of “progress”. However, this obsession with progress is matched by the equally strong fear of the impending apocalypse. From a western intellectual framework, the past petrification does indeed offer lessons about their own imminent future. Western ethos, rooted in fear of the apocalypse, recognizes that their future could be leading down the path of destruction. Every few decades, Europeans and Westerners, both from the ‘religious right’ and the ‘progressive left’, claim that the world is going to end soon, because humans are sinners or polluters.
In that framework, these lessons are indeed relevant and therefore desire introspection. Thus, the Western obsession to date every event is also understandable. If doomsday is coming, would it not make sense to predict as to when it is coming? Consequently, Western methodologies are appropriate to prevent a destruction that their religious texts, or scientific fears, claim is impending.
Western timelines are stratified into various ‘ages’ indicating a certain linear progression. Thus when the English invented Indian history, it was conveniently split into a Hindu age, Buddhist age, Muslim age and a British age. Indian ethos operates differently. Indians never looked upon time as linear, but cyclical and in that context the need to date everything is considered a fool’s errand.
Similarly, India’s percipient history is primarily about learning from the positives and therefore, Indic memories present a large number of positive role models. The best practices are preserved by recognizing the “things done right” and by identifying those who did the right things and placing them on a pedestal.
Constraints of Civility and Historical Amnesia
What about mistakes and “things gone wrong”? Indic memories clearly place the heroes of a story on a pedestal – be it Vishnu or Durga in their various Avatars. The antagonists, those who are the cause of the imbalance, driven by ego or ambition to lord over others, like Ravana and other Asuras, are explicitly assailed. However, Indic memories display a selective amnesia of the names of all those who either blundered, betrayed, or made bad choices, which enabled the antagonists becoming powerful in the first place. For example, the stories of the growth of Ravana’s empire offer little information of the kings he defeated. Is it possible that during the period of Ravana’s expansion, there might have been kings who either made strategic blunders or were bribed, bought or beaten?
Indic civility or सभ्यता clearly discourages finger pointing or flagellation. This easily explains why Indic memories are amnesic when it comes to offering lessons learned that involve any sort of finger pointing at any historical person, persons or even citizens who might have made mistakes that led to further failures.
If stories of defeat were editorially eliminated, because civility could not accommodate finger pointing, how did Indians learn from their mistakes? Is Indic civility or सभ्यता a curse that prevented Indians from truly learning from failures? Were ancient Indians in their desire to be civil, fail to preserve the lessons learned for posterity?
There are two possibilities:
Yes – the absence of finger pointing does indeed indicate that Indic memories fail in providing the lessons learned for later generations.
No – Ancient Indians were able to solve the problem and overcome the “constraint of civility” by preserving the lessons learned without pointing fingers.
Those who are stuck in a linear apocalypse-fearing western mindset would choose the first option.
Consider the other possibility. Is it possible to separate the lessons learned from the primary story and the characters who blundered? Does naming the individual who blundered have any importance in learning from their mistakes?
The answer is Dispersive History – where events of relevance, like light passing through glass, are filtered through a prism of Indic ethos and “dispersed” into relevant buckets for consumption by generations to come.
Dispersive history splits important events four ways:
The protagonists are named and are placed on a pedestal.
The antagonists are named and denounced.
Mala fide actions, that remain a part of human failings that includes corruption and betrayal, offer no new lessons. Those who might have been bought or betrayed are ignored and their names forgotten with time.
Bona fide mistakes are encapsulated as lessons learned in abstracted form. The names and sometimes even the species are changed to avoid direct finger pointing. This is history with pseudonymous characters which can be described as abstracted pseudonymous history.
The stories in हितोपदेश (Hitopadesha – good advice), the पंचतन्त्र (Panchatantra – five principles) or the philosophical observations made in poetic form in the सुभाषित (subhashitas – “well said” ideas) – are abstracted observations with pseudonymous characters, that were likely to have been inspired from real events. The names or the specifics in the stories are far less relevant than the lessons themselves.
For example, a king who was seduced by rhetoric and ignored obvious red flags in an alliance with another king, could have easily inspired the story told in the हितोपदेश (good advice) of the “old tiger and the greedy traveler”. Or citizens of a country that were seduced by free handouts of a seemingly benign, but oppressive ruler, could have inspired the story of the “doves, the hunter, the grains of rice, and a mouse.” The story of how a weak, but clever king who used the power of an ally to defeat an enemy could have formed the basis for the panchatantra story काकस्य उपायः ( kaakasya Upaayah – A Crow’s Solution).
Furthermore, children were exposed to these stories early in life – so that they could grow up with these lessons. As adults, they could recognise the traps that their ancestors might have fallen into – and learn to avoid them. This helped achieve the second goal of historical analysis, with without any flagellation or sacrificing the civility that defines Indic ethos.
This way of preserving stories for posterity is another distinctive feature of India. These stories were important in the lessons they taught, but simple enough that it was both entertaining and could be communicated easily irrespective of the age and educational background of their listeners. Some of these stories were even simplified into common sayings which are used in everyday conversations even today.
How do you use this understanding of Indian historiography to alter the way history is taught was written in India? In the final part of this series, we offer some suggestions. We would also like to invite the readers to make suggestions in this regard. The final part of the series which consists of few general and specific recommendations will be published a month later based on the comments and feedback we receive.
In the first part of this series we described India as having an “accumulative” history versus other civilisations having maintained “discrete” histories. This key differentiator between India and other civilisations is an important factor to consider as India attempts to reassess its own history. For example, various western anthropological models of civilisations describe several phases of a civilization. They typically start with some description of a beginning and some description of a decay and then an ending.
India does not share that experience, because all ancient civilisations, with the exception of India, are akin to fallen trees petrified over the centuries. Petrification is a process that replaces the live cells of a tree with minerals that fossilize the cells and preserve the structure. Archaeological findings of ancient civilizations are in many ways similar to finding a petrified tree. Unlike a live tree, a petrified tree can be sliced and its rings counted to know how old the tree was when it died. A petrified tree also preserves the signature of the minerals that it absorbs when they replace the live cells providing critical information about the period of petrification; a dead civilisation provides answers that offer as much clarity as a petrified tree does.
However, India is a living civilisation, which has preserved the memory of ancient times across generations through the memory of people, stories and philosophical treatises. India’s unbroken continuity means that it is an ancient, but a live tree, like a banyan tree that has roots spread far and wide. Can a live Banyan tree answer a simple question as to how old it is? Can it even answer the question as to where the original trunk was? Perhaps, only if parts of the tree were petrified, like the sites near Saraswati and Kampil.
Absence of fossilized anthropological evidence does not indicate the absence of antiquity. The methodologies that are applied to study what died and preserved, have to differ from methodologies that are required to study a live civilisation. To find out what someone ate before they died, one can perform an autopsy and examine the contents of the stomach. What about a live person? Well – just ask what they ate. Therefore, studying Indian history needs a fundamentally new approach which has to be different from the study of dead fossilized civilisations. It needs to be analogous to asking a live civilisation “what do you remember?”
For example, if you ask the Rajasthanis on why their region is a desert, they would tell us that it is due to the disappearance of a mighty river which had once flowed through the region. Even though the river vanished several thousand years ago, the memory is preserved in folk songs and local traditions. If you had asked the people of Kampil, even before excavating, they would have told you that the mound in their village actually hid a fort. Much before satellite imagery found the paleo channels, Indians who had read the nadistuti sukta of the Rigveda would have told you that the location of Saraswati was between Yamuna and Sutlej.
India’s secret of this contiguous memory lies in the ability of the society to retell the stories across generations. The carriers of these memories were not political rulers, but society itself and these memories were carried across generations through folk songs, dances, stories and enactments of epics. This is very different from the concept of annals, or what is known as recorded or “official” history of events recorded by courts of kings. Thus, preservation of history in India was highly decentralised, yet, the themes of preservation were common.
Though India has a unique combination of diversity of language and culture, Indians are bound by a common thread of stories and traditions. Society achieved this by maintaining a section of the population who took the responsibility of rituals, as well as educating themselves in a broad category of subjects, that included stories and philosophical treatises. Additionally, pilgrimages to various “तीर्थस्थल were encouraged by ensuring that the lodging and boarding was free of cost. In return the guests would perform ceremonies, rituals, hold philosophical discussions, perform vedic recitations, and discuss stories and philosophies with their hosts. This not only allowed for a cross-pollination of ideas, concepts, and philosophies, but also of stories, best practices and the opportunity for selecting and sharing wisdom. This “transfusion” of ideas across regions, languages and peoples provided a unique paradigm in integrating Indian ethos while maintaining its diversity.
Just as a historian makes editorial selections in what goes in a history book, society, in combination with a culture that encouraged cross-pollination of ideas, made similar choices. What makes one story more important than other? Why preserve the memory of one event and not another?
Just as प्रकृति (prakriti) represents things that are impermanent, changing or evolving, संस्कृति (Sanskriti) defines सनातन (Sanatana – everlasting or immutable) ideas. Editorial selections were made based on what concepts were considered प्राकृतिक (Prakritic or impermanent) and what concepts were considered सांस्कृतिक (Sanskritic or immutable). If an event significantly affected the lives of people and the lessons learned were considered immutable, it got added to the stories worthy of preservation.
This automatically meant that western notion of civilisation, based on materialistic markers, were generally ignored in Indian ethos. Indians placed सभ्यता or civility above materialistic markers of civilisation. This relative prioritisation allowed Indians to identify stories that were worth preserving, without getting seduced by materialistic markers. This is exemplified in the story of Ram’s life, where the seeming prosperity of Ravana’s Lanka, with its multi-storied palaces and bejewelled and golden decor, are described in great detail. Yet, Ayodhya which had far less impressive materialistic markers in comparison to Lanka, was considered superior, because of the civility that existed in society that was free from Ravana’s oppressive regime.
These stories not only provided the audience with the tools to recognise what was worthy of cherishing, it also put a spotlight on the important concept that if power was centralised in the hands of oppressive regimes, civility would be adversely impacted. This knowledge that civility had indeed broken down in the past, in cyclical patterns, equipped Indians to look to their history for lessons that would enable them to overcome obstacles in the present.
With society’s ability to perceive, discern, discriminate and select what is remembered for posterity, Indic memories can therefore be best described as Percipient History. Percipient history depends on the preservation of what the society perceives is worthy of preservation. Petrified history is more about preservation of snapshots of discrete periods of history, which includes “historical records.” The process of keeping records was often undertaken by rulers, administrators and therefore represented the view of the state or institutions and not socie
ty. The concept of centralised study of Petrified history was forced upon India by the English. This was then propagated by historians who continued to be seduced by the beauty of material markers preserved as petrified civilisations, rather than the wisdom and perceptiveness of a living civilisation.
As India reassesses history, it needs to make a distinction between non-Indic petrified history and India’s percipient history. Indians also need to look at the unique style of Indian historiography, the goal of which was to extract empowering lessons which would benefit future generations without indulging in flagellation. We will look at this in the next part.
With a nationalistic government leading India, there is an unprecedented opportunity to undo the damage that has been caused to Indian memories, by forces hostile to Indic ethos. A natural reaction would be to take an opposite position to reverse the damage. This series takes a step back and analyses the mechanisms used by our ancestors. Had they developed a framework for recording history that is staring at us but we don’t realize? If so, can we decode that framework and can that offer us guidance in creating an analytical and an Indic approach to reassessing history?
The first part argued that India’s experience and memories are distinct from other places – and there India needs its own framework. In this part we review the politics of “official” history and argue that India needs a different approach. In the subsequent parts we decode the unique Indic methodology of editorializing, preserving and transmitting, not only narratives but even lessons learned. The final part will look at how that decoded knowledge can help formulate a new framework for reassessing Indic history, and perhaps even the history of humanity.
Politics of Historiography
European polity has dominated modern discourse in recent times, and it is represented in their hierarchical top-down systems that come in various flavours. Whether they are an “-acy”, an “-ism”, or an “-ity,” they have one thing in common: they all view society either as errant or as similar to sheep, which needs to be controlled and shepherded. What differentiates various systems from each other is the extent of shepherding and whether the shepherds emerge from the flock they seek to control. This has translated into academic institutions and government machinery that attempt to wield control over society.
Western Historiography is based on theoretical frameworks, such as Marxism, nationalism, post-colonialism, post-modernism, feminism and more, and draws from social sciences, religion and anthropology among others. These frameworks provide a specific perspective and the conclusion reached by historians depends on which of these coloured lenses they are wearing. Historiography has been used as tools to control the “masses” and follows a consistent pattern. First, “eminent” people with certificates of qualifications and specialized degrees are given charge of influential institutions in the nation. They control the intellectual framework for history and anthropology and define the narratives based on that framework. Next, large universities and institutions which are well funded, author huge volumes of writings, which are then condensed and simplified for various educational levels. Finally, the government controlled educational system works as a distribution channel for students who are nothing more than consumers of ideas created by these “highly qualified” people.
This is in complete contrast to India’s ethos where society determined qualifications of individuals based on their observed day to day actions. Personal sacrifice of material gain and power, combined with demonstrable knowledge, was given the highest respect; not degrees and certificates from highly funded institutions. Further, the responsibility of propagating memories remained with society and was never outsourced to any authority or central institution, regardless of their qualifications, stature or intelligence. India’s long held memories, helped Indians recognize the patterns of oppression inflicted by the British and they fought against Britain relentlessly. The part success achieved in the Anglo-Indian war of 1857 was a result of Indian memories that equipped Indian society to support Indian leaders form alliances and challenge the oppressive economic, political and social systems imposed by the British. The Azamgarh proclamation of August 1857, which demanded political, economic and personal freedom, was an acknowledgement of this unbroken Indian ethos.
To neutralize India’s decentralized memories, the British launched a two pronged attack. First, they created centralized institutional structures, and second, used those institutions to launch an ideological assault and propaganda against Indic ethos. They hired consultants to write Indian history with an anti-Indic bias through various narratives. The mission of these pen wielding mercenaries was to eventually replace India’s unique memories with “official history.”
The techniques for erasing memories were already perfected within the Western world. As Christianity spread, “Pagan” cultures were erased, Orwellian memory holes were created to incinerate inconvenient remnants of past history to prevent any resurgence of those who were vanquished. Sometimes the incineration was physical, with the near successful genocide in the “New World”, where “Guns, Germs and Steel”, were used to wipe out native people and their memories. In other cases, less dramatic but effective memory holes were created by renaming places, persons or objects to unlink them from the past.
Fortunately, the two pronged assault on India was not entirely successful. Indian society viewed the English rule and any institution that attempted to influence society with scepticism. With the exception of a small section of the English influenced minority, Indians largely ignored centralized propaganda that passed off as history.
However, this changed after the English were evicted. India had the opportunity to neutralize both the assaults by dismantling the centralized institutions as well as end the propaganda perpetuated against Indic ethos. Independent India’s leaders did neither.
The centralized institutions not only remained intact, they were strengthened. In the early decades following the eviction of the English, a battle ensued to control these centralized institutions. All sides claimed that their attempt to rewrite history was from an Indian perspective. While some groups viewed India from anti-Islamic narrative, others viewed India from an anti-imperialist narrative. Neither presented any insights into Indic ethos nor offered a narrative that was correlated to Indian memories. In fact, the Marxists, defined by their own lenses, created an imagined narrative consistent with their ideological preferences and a strong anti-Indic bias. None of the warring factions really understood India and its eternal memories, or worse deliberately chose to misrepresent India.
The Marxists won this battle and exercised complete control over education, academia and humanities. The only change Independence bought was that English propaganda was replaced by Marxist propaganda, which was propagated using the old and newly formed institutions created with the same intent.
They successfully labelled themselves as “historians” (without the Marxist tag), or “liberals with a scientific outlook” while anyone questioning them were slandered as “communal.” They continued the attack on the section of society which was critical in preserving memories through stories and philosophical treatises, and blamed them for all the ills in society. The Marxist historians considered it their burden to fix the flaws of an errant Indian society through power and manipulation. They highlighted the negativity that had befallen India’s social fabric during India’s economic destruction under English misrule, and extrapolated that negativity into the past. They furthered this propaganda by collaborating with Western Historians and self-proclaimed “Indologists” and continued the English tradition of assailing Indian society. They leveraged this misrepresentation to promote the idea that holding on to the past was “orthodoxy” and forgetting it, “progress.”
Indian society was more receptive to the propaganda produced by these post-independence institutions because they believed that they were run by “well-meaning and progressive” Indians. These “historians” either lacked an understanding of Indic ethos or deliberately chose to misunderstand it. They used centralized institutions to propagate ideas learned from their peers in other parts of the world. For them everything was a class struggle and this thesis had to be accepted for one to be considered as “secular.”
Despite this propaganda, Indian society and families continued to practice traditional pursuits and maintaining a culture that implicitly represented the unbroken narrative of India. Over time Indian society continued to reject what was taught in classrooms because it had little correlation with the culture that they lived in. This scepticism prevented the centralized monolithic machinery from gaining wide acceptance in Indian society – thus continuing to shield India’s ethos of decentralized history.
Today, India is at a crossroads again.
From अध्यात्मिक Participants to Bystanders and Consumers
A nationalistic Indian government is leading India, which wears an unabashedly pro-Indian lens rather than the jaundiced lenses worn by the Marxists. This nationalistic government now controls these centralized institutions created by the English and then expanded by the Marxists.
Is this situation good for Indic ethos?
Contrary to what most nationalists believe, the situation has the potential to be disastrous. In fact, far more so than the Marxist takeover of these institutions.
The reason is that a majority of Indians in society, who thus far have viewed both the English and Marxists with suspicion, might let their guard down and accept centralized and nationalistic versions of Indian history that might be written from an Indian point of view. For them, a rewriting of Indian history with a nationalist viewpoint would be the perfect way to undo the damage cause thus far.
What they don’t see is that the fundamental flaw in India’s post-Independent approach to history was not about who would control these institutions. The flaw was that these centralized monolithic institutions continued to exist for someone to control, as a proposed replacement for India’s decentralized memories. It is not the narrative, with or without the biases, that is the primary threat to India’s memories, but the mere existence of any official narrative, that is accepted by society, that will pose as the biggest threat to India’s decentralized history.
Indian society today, despite the educational system, has remained active in transmitting past memories. However, if the Indian government offers a curriculum in history that the society finds acceptable, then the society will transform itself from proponents and champions of history to consumers of history. Society will become a mere bystander as “better qualified people with degrees and certificates,” combined with a “nationalistic outlook” take control over what always belonged to the people.
India’s ethos is driven by the engine of diversity and powered by the principles of अध्यात्म (adhyatma). Adhyatma, roughly translates as “the supreme self,” where the self is considered to be the prime mover as each person takes responsibility for themselves and thus builds a self-reliant society. Whether India embraces a “unifying” consumer culture in materialistic pursuits is a separate discussion. The immediate question is will India embrace a consumer culture in history and philosophy? As a society that respects the notion of अध्यात्म, India’s core strength is her ability to thrive intellectually, at the level of each individual, without external authority and despite the government – be it oppressive or friendly. No oppressive ruler has been able to take that away from her. Will a friendly government succeed in dismantling India’s decentralized ethos, where all enemies have failed?
Of all the threats that Indian memories have faced – the threat of a successful implementation and acceptance of centralized history is the gravest. What the Mughals could not even dent, where Macaulay and Bentinck mostly failed, and where Marxist controlled institutions could only find limited success in hurting India’s ethos – will a Indian society finally accept a centralized history. Will a nationalistic government become an agent of destruction of the Indian nation’s core values preserved in India’s decentralized, dispersive and percipient history?
The answer depends on the choices that are made today.
If rewriting centralized Indian history from a nationalistic perspective poses a risk – what is the alternative?
To make recommendations, it is important to take a step back, analyse and to understand how Indians preserved their memories successfully despite the invasions and subjugation. The following two parts attempts to decode the Indic Historical Framework and presents that as an alternative model that is consistent with India’s ethos. The fifth and final part in this series makes some general and some specific recommendations for the government of India to mitigate the risks that India’s eternal memories face.
In the next part we will introduce the concept of percipient history and contrast it with the petrified history of other ancient civilizations.
In the late 1860s, a German businessman, enthusiastic about Greek history, started digging in the small town of Hisarlik in Turkey, in search of a Homeric site. He claimed to have discovered Troy, made famous in Homer’s Iliad with the story of the Trojan horse. There was much debate and excitement among anthropologists and enthusiasts and when the dust settled, the conclusion was that the site was indeed Troy. This discovery was significant because neither the locals nor any annals had maintained the linkage between Troy and Hisarlik through the centuries. The link was broken as Turkey went through many cultural and political transformations: Greek ethos gave way to the Roman civilisation, which was then replaced by the Byzantines. The Persians, the Arabs and the Ottomans who followed them, erased ancient memories, replacing it with new ones chosen by the new rulers and the new religions.
Contrast this with a similar archaeological discovery made during our times. In the 1990s, a team of Indian and Italian archaeologists conducted excavations near a village in Farrukhabad district of Uttar Pradesh. A mound just outside the village was excavated, which led to the discovery of the ancient town of Kampilya, the capital of King Drupada from the Mahabharata. However, this discovery generated neither any debates nor any significant discussions, and the excitement was limited to the archaeological circles.
What can explain the absence of excitement for a seemingly similar discovery? Are Indians not interested in their own past? Is it because it wasn’t a businessman who had sponsored the excavation of Kampilya? Or is there another explanation?
The answer is simple: Kampilya, unlike Troy, was never lost and its excavation was never a discovery. For the locals, the mound was always known as Drupad kila (Drupad’s fort), Although the fort had been buried for thousands of years, knowledge about the fort was transmitted over generations without a break. Also, not surprisingly, the name of the village was Kampil (a variant of Kampilya).
Unlike Turkey, where no local stories had survived the two and half millennia since the legend of Troy, the villagers in Kampil in their own history of at least five thousand years, not only knew about Kampilya, but also about Drupad, his daughter Draupadi and the battles fought near their village. Drupad’s story was neither legend, nor Kampilya legendary; they existed as real places with stories that have lasted hundreds of generations.
The absence of excitement in India about ancient discoveries is not surprising, because India is a unique civilisation with ancient memories that remain alive. In fact, India is the only place where there is an unbroken continuity between the land, the people and their stories that have been narrated across the generations. Consider other ancient civilisations west of India. Egypt, Rome, Greece, Iran and Mesopotamia still exist, but they are not the same places with whom India traded during ancient times.
In Egypt, it was the archaeological discoveries during and following the Napoleonic invasion that actually connected Egyptians to their forgotten past. For Greeks, the Minoan, Mycenaean and Hellenistic Greece are all relics of the past and modern day Greeks don’t live by the same religion or follow the same culture. Although the land and the people continued, the stories were replaced with biblical ones.
Similarly, towards the east, in the case of China, Buddhism became a cultural force that dramatically altered the fabric of the society from the traditions of the Xia, Shang and the Zhou dynasties. Various pre-Buddhist ideologies that dominated the society were replaced by new concepts of dharma and karma. From 200 BCE and over the next millennium, Buddhism became a powerful force; stories of Buddha in various forms pervaded society. Shaolin’s foundation by Indian monks and the subsequent role that institution played in Chinese political balance further entrenched Buddhist thought into China’s political discourse.
The Jewish people have a long memory as well. However, their cultural continuity was detached from their land as the Jews were forced to disperse into various parts of the world. The geography that encompasses modern day Israel and its neighbours went through several social and political changes similar to those witnessed by Mesopotamia, Turkey and other ancient civilisations in that area.
The pre-European inhabitants of North-America and Australia also maintained a long memory of their civilisation. However, the near genocidal attack on their existence by Europeans all but vanquished many of the tribes. Those who survived are attempting to resurrect and piece back their memories. The memories peoples of South-America and Africa were also erased as foreign political forces brought the full force of their religious dogmas and replaced the original memories with those considered holy in their respective books.
When it comes to India, Kampil is not a unique instance where memory was preserved over a long period of time. The memory of the Vedic Saraswati was preserved in local folks songs, Rig Veda and the Mahabharata. Another example is the case of the star Vega or Abhijit, which was at one time given the status as one of the 27 nakshatras (a special star along the ecliptic used for tracking planetary and solar motion). The memory of Abhijit becoming the pole star, 13,000 years ago, is known to Indians even today in the form of it losing its status among the pantheon of 27 nakshatras.
One can witness this continuity in several walks of life as well. For example, the ratio 5:4 was commonly used by the people of the Indus-Saraswati civilisation for constructing cities, the Vedic people for building fire altars, Varahamihira for building palaces, and the artisans who built the Delhi Iron pillar. Even now the proportion is used by the Jaipur Royal family in their flag. This continuous usage exceeds a span of at least five millennia.
This civilisational continuity is ingrained in the attitude and actions of the people. In the 19th century, much before the arrival of modern archaeology, the people of Ujjain knew that their city was built on top of another ancient city and for building a house, they could get well-baked bricks just by digging into the ground. The Archaeological Survey of India conducted twelve expeditions of marine excavations near Dwaraka in Gujarat, based on the description in Skanda Purana. Dwaraka, which was known as Kusasthali, was described as being situated at the confluence of Gomati and the Western Sea. These excavations yielded pottery, seals and epigraphs, which were possibly from the 17th – 18th century BCE.
Indians have always known about India’s uniqueness vis-a-vis other ancient civilisations. Allama Iqbal expressed these exact thoughts when he wrote:
युनानो-मिस्रो-रोमा सब् मिट गये जहांसे
अब तक मगर है बाकि नामो निशां हमारा
कुछ बात है कि हस्ति मिटती नहीं हमारी…
Greek, Roman and Egyptian civilisations have all vanished without a trace
Yet, our identity remains unbroken
There is something unique about us, that preserves our existence…
Indian history, with its unbroken continuity has accumulated the memories of the past into stories that remain live even today. Other civilisations within their finite periods of existence are visible to us through annals and records that appear as discrete narratives. Therefore, Indic history can be described as being “accumulative” history, versus other civilisations having “discrete” histories. This key differentiator between India and other civilisations is important to consider as India attempts to reassess its own history.
Although that is an important differentiator, there are other aspects as well which makes India unique. Because other ancient civilisations are no longer living. The techniques used for understanding them are similar to a post-mortem, and therefore unsuitable for understanding a living civilisation such as India. Later articles in the series will demonstrate that Indian society had the ability to perceive, discern, and select what to preserve for posterity.
Today, a nationalistic Government is leading India, and that presents an unprecedented opportunity to undo the damage that has been caused by forces hostile to Indic ethos. A natural reaction would be to take an opposite position to reverse the damage. For example, it would be tempting to replace the current “official” history that is out of touch with India, with one with a nationalistic outlook. Towards that goal, it would be expedient to replace the heads of the central institutions with ones who can write volumes about nationalistic history.
While removing the individuals in power who are hostile to Indic ethos is a necessary first step, the question to ask is, what are our expectations from the new appointees? Should they be also writing volumes on history?
This series takes a step back and analyses the mechanisms used by our ancestors. Had they developed a framework for recording history that is staring at us but we don’t realise? If so, can we decode that framework and can that decoded framework offer us guidance in creating an analytical approach to reassessing history?
The rest of the articles in the series will attempt to answer these questions. In the next part, we review the politics of “official” history, and in the subsequent parts we decode the unique Indic methodology of editorializing, preserving and transmitting, not only narratives but even lessons learned. The final part will look at how that decoded knowledge can help formulate a new framework for reassessing Indic history, and perhaps even the history of humanity.
Imperial and Global Forum has a review of the bookMedicine and Colonialism: Historical Perspectives in India and South Africa
Self-consciously aiming to be a comparative work and taking material from India and South Africa, it takes its cue from earlier works that aimed to ‘de-centre’ the metropolis-periphery model of conceptualising empire and colonialism.While re-asserting the centrality of medical knowledge and practices to colonial rule, and the importance of the bodies of the colonised as sites for the exercise of colonial power, the book aims to move beyond a model of hegemony, domination and control. Instead, as the introductory essay outlines, the book’s trans-national methodology is intended to highlight ‘policies of European adaptation and resistance to initiatives of the colonized’ and the ‘transfer of ideas and knowledge in mutual engagements.’
Described by his one-time Muscat colleague Percy Cox as ‘a man of great industry and scientific bent’, Jayakar dedicated his spare time to the pursuit of scientific exploration and understanding. He collected scores of wildlife specimens from the desert sands, as well from the shores and waters off the Oman coast. The English explorer Theodore Bent, who visited Muscat in 1899, described Jayakar’s house as being ‘filled with curious animals from the interior, and marvels from the deep’. Jayakar sent many specimens not previously collected or studied to the British Museum in London. Numerous species are named in Jayakar’s honour, including the Arabian Sand Boa (Eryx Jayakari), a lizard (Lacerta Jayakari), a species of goat (Arabitragus Jayakari), a scorpion (Hottentotta Jayakari) and several fish, including the seahorse Hippocampus Jayakari. – See more at: http://britishlibrary.typepad.co.uk/untoldlives/2014/08/a-polymath-in-muscat.html#sthash.fGTCyAhw.dpuf
There are thirty-four illustrations in the Pem Nem, mostly of ink and watercolour and gold and silver, made by three different artists. These paintings had been done on pieces of paper that were then pasted onto the sheets of the manuscript. It’s not entirely clear if these artworks were made at the same time as the manuscript was written. The author of the book was Hasan Manju Khalji. Interestingly, no other books by him are known. The calligraphy is lovely and clear, but as he wrote masnavi couplets in a Deccani Urdu that contains admixtures from Marathi and local dialect, it is difficult to understand today. The text is a narrative poem in rhyme, describing the Sufi’s love of and quest for God.
There are photographs of India taken a few years after the invention of the technology. The postPicturing India: The Collection of Sven Gahlin has few of of those images
The Trans Saharan trade became an important one at the turn of the anno domini or somewhat earlier. The general contention shared by Ilse Kohler and Paula Wapnish is that the 12-15th century BC is when the camel got domesticated. However considering Mason’s theory that it evolved in Arabia around 3,000BC, the period in between needs further analysis. It is also clear that there were three broad classifications of the dromedary, the beast of burden or the baggager, the riding camel and the milking camel. It is also clear that those North African Muslim traders usually set out with their camels well laden, in a fat and vigorous condition; and brought them back in a bad state, that they commonly sold them at a low rate to be later fattened by the Arabs of the Desert (Consider the analogy with second hand cars!).
The next carnival will be up on Nov 15th or the weekend following that.
In an article about the appointment of Yellapragada Sudarshan Rao, as head of the Indian Council of Historical Research, Mihir S Sharma writes the following in Business Standard (BS)
They argue that the earlier Vedas, which the Marxist-Missionary nexus describes as being from a pastoral society, were actually written in the Indus Valley Civilisation – sorry, the Saraswati Valley Civilisation. It provides conclusive proof, in the unquestionably Indic form of frequent assertion, that it was from India that the Aryans spread out to Iran, Central Asia, and finally Europe. Such claims are looked down on by evangelical Christian CIA agents like Chicago’s Caroline E Haskell Distinguished Service Professor of the History of Religions Bruce Lincoln, who describes them as “exercises in scholarship (= myth + footnotes)”. Eh, but what does he know.[Eminently funny historians]
The usage of the word Sarasvati Valley in this context is used to imply that it is a ridiculous terminology used only by people who support people like Mr. Rao about whom no one has heard of. I have no idea who this Mr. Rao is and do not wish to defend him or whatever he stands for.
First, let us note that a few dailies, while reporting the Minister’s statement, rushed to stick the label “mythical” to the Saraswati river, parroting the Leftist historians who, since the mid-1980s have objected to any attempt to identify the Saraswati of the Rig-Veda with a real river within India’s geography (their objection would have been dropped if it was located in, say, Afghanistan). These historians and their followers in the media do not seem to know that the bed of the Ghaggar river running through Haryana, Punjab, Rajasthan and on to Cholistan (where it is known as “Hakra”) has been identified with the Vedic Saraswati since 1855 by generations of geologists, geographers, Indologists, archaeologists and remote sensing experts. They are too numerous to list here, but among them are F Max Müller, HH Wilson, RD Oldham, CF Oldham, Marc Aurel Stein, Louis Renou, Herbert Wilhelmy, Mortimer Wheeler, Raymond Allchin, Jonathan M. Kenoyer, Gregory Possehl…. This is also not the place to go into the arguments favouring this identification, but let me briefly recall that they include, first, the Rig-Veda’s description of the Saraswati as flowing “from the mountain to the sea”; second, the text’s specific mention of the river between the Yamuna and the Sutlej; and third, the existence of a small “Sarsuti” stream as a tributary of the Ghaggar. Indeed, a number of British maps, right from 1760 noted the Ghaggar-Saraswati association.[Saraswati, Ganga, and India’s vanishing rivers]
These five spots, when plotted on the map, reveal that they are on two lines going east from the sea – one going North East, the other South East. They run in the same direction as two major highways which emanate from Mumbai – NH3 and NH4. The ASI informs us that this is not coincidence. In effect, there were ancient trade routes from the port town of Sopara (present day Nalla Sopara) which connected with the great cities inland include Pratishthana (modern day Paithan) which was the capital of the Satavahanas who reigned between the 3rd century BCE to 2nd century CE. The immediate conclusion is that, like the serais on the Silk Route, these monasteries were specially constructed on these trade routes and served as rest places for traders.
It was only the courage, patience and sacrifice of Lakshmi Ammani that kept the Wodeyar dynasty still alive. She bided her time and watched as Tipu’s excesses became excessive and he made enemies with every king and power in South India including the British. She opened up discreet communication channels with all enemies of Tipu, and finally concluded a successful negotiation with the British who promised to restore the Wodeyar dynasty to the throne of Mysore if Tipu was defeated. The fateful day arrived on 4 May 1799 when an ordinary British soldier shot Tipu in the head with his musket.
Haji Mohammed Hashim and Mashadi Qasim returned to Shiraz in 1825, leaving behind their youngest brother, Aga Ali Asker to expand the business. He was born in 1808, around the same time the Bangalore Cantonment was being built. While Aga Ali Asker’s great-great grandfather, Tarverdi and his son Allaverdi had spent their entire lives in Tabriz, it was Haji Murad, Allaverdi’s son (Aga Ali Asker’s grandfather), who migrated to Shiraz with his family in the 18th century. Here, he proceeded to buy large estates and successfully invested his capital in property. A few decades later, the fortunes of the family were on the move again. The three brothers took leave of their father, Haji Abdullah and set sail on a bold and courageous journey to India, an unknown land.
What was the economic impact of the British effort in building railways in enslaved India? Dave Donaldson used the British government records to find the answers
2.By estimating the effect of India’s railroads on a proxy for economic welfare in colonial India. When the railroad network was extended to the average district, real agricultural income in that district rose by approximately 16 percent. While it is possible that railroads were deliberately allocated to districts on the basis of time-varying characteristics unobservable to researchers today, I found little evidence for this potential source of bias to my results. In particular, railroad line projects that were scheduled to be built but were then cancelled for plausibly idiosyncratic reasons display no spurious ‘effects’ on economic growth.
Shahida writes about the role Indian women played in feminist movement in 20th century England
Sophie Duleep Singh, of Asian descent, was born in Norfolk. She caught typhoid as a child. A battler, even at nine, she recovered from the fever but sadly, her mother did not and Sophie’s father left his children in the care of foster parents. As Sophie grew, her social life and connections flourished and she joined the WSPU, becoming an active campaigner and fundraiser for women’s rights. She was also a member of the Women’s Tax Resistance League and made many appearances in court for non-payment of taxes. She strongly opposed the injustice of making a woman pay taxes when she had no right to vote or voice her opinion on how those taxes were spent. In 1911, Sophie was fined by the courts for refusing to pay taxes due on her five dogs and man servant. The courts also impounded her diamond ring and auctioned it off. However, the auction was attended by many women’s right campaigners. One of these was a Mrs Topling who purchased the ring and promptly returned it to Sophie.
Thanks Fëanor and @karthiks for the recommendations. The next carnival will be up on Sep 15th.
This is the board outside the Cheraman Perumal Juma Masjid near present day Kodungallur, Kerala which proclaims that the mosque was established when Prophet Muhammad was alive. It also means that this particular mosque was established before the first mosques in Iraq (639 CE), Syria (715 CE), Egypt (642 CE), and Tunisia (670 CE) thus making it oldest mosque after the first mosques in Saudi Arabia and China. The interesting question is why would a mosque be established so far away from the deserts where Islam was spreading? Who was behind it and more importantly, is the mosque as old as it claims?
There is a popular story behind this mosque which is well known in Kerala even today. Once a king — a Cheraman Perumal — was walking on the balcony of his palace when he spotted the moon splitting into two and joining back again. Bewildered, he consulted a few astrologers, who confirmed that such an event had indeed occurred and was not a mystical experience. Few months later, he got a few Arab visitors on their way to Ceylon and from them, the king learned that Prophet Muhammad was behind this miracle and he was the founder of a new religion. The king did something drastic. He abdicated the throne, divvied up the kingdom and set sail to Mecca to meet this man. He met the Prophet and converted to Islam and lived in Arabia for a while. Then to spread the religion in his homeland, the converted Perumal returned to Kerala, but he died somewhere along the way.
Later, few of his followers reach Cranganore and it is they who set up the first mosques, including the one at Kodungallur. According to the legend, Saraf Ibn Malik, Malik Ibn Dinar, Malik Ibn Habib, Ibn Malik and their wives and friends were responsible for establishing the first mosques at Kodungallur, Kollam (in North, not Quilon), Maravi (Matayi), Fakanur, Manjarur (Mangalore), Kanjirakuttu (Kasergode), Jarfattan (Karippat), Dahfattan (Dharmatam), Fandarina (Pantalayani Kollam) and Caliyath (Chaliyam near Beypore)
There is one thing to be noted about Cheraman Perumal. That was not the name of a particular king, but a title. Cheraman was the name of the dynasty of Chera rulers and Perumal meant, ‘the great one’. According to Keralolpathi (Origins of Kerala), written in the 17th or 18th century, following various conflicts in the 9th century, the representatives of 64 settlements in Kerala brought the Perumals from outside Kerala and each one was to rule for 12 years. There have been exceptions, though and once such exception would play an important role in this story.
First, is this story really true?
This story is found in a Muslim account recorded by Sheikh Zeinuddin as well as in the Brahminical narrative, Keralolpathi. The story has been retold countless times by the Portuguese, Dutch; the court chronicles of Calicut and Cochin begin with this narrative. There is epigraphic evidence as well: a Chola inscription mentions that the Cheras took to the sea after they were attacked which historians interpret to mean the Cherman Perumal voyage. There is evidence even from Arabia about the tomb of a king from Malabar who converted to Islam. Thus there seems to be sufficient evidence to suggest that a king from Malabar converted to Islam. That brings us to the second question: When?
This fascinating tale of a Kerala king meeting the Prophet was first recorded in 1510 CE by the Portuguese writer Duarte Barbosa. Barbosa, who would later become Ferdinand Magellan’s brother-in-law and would join him on his trip around the world, reached Kerala in 1500 with his uncle and stayed there for five decades. Quite conversant in the local language and based on his familiarity with the traditions and customs, he wrote the story of this Cheraman Perumal based on what he had heard.
His version goes as follows: Around 600 years before Barbosa’s time, there was a mighty lord named Chirimay Perumal, whose capital was a popular port for pepper trade. The Moors who came for trade had numerous discussions with the king and they converted him to Islam. He went to Mecca in their company and died either there or on the way back; the Malabar people never saw their king again. Barbosa also wrote that the single kingdom which Cheraman Perumal ruled was partitioned into three — Cannanore, Calicut and Quilon — with Calicut having the right of coinage. But pay attention to one little detail: Barbosa mentions that this incident happened 600 years back and not 875 years.
The next version of this story was written eight decades later by Sheikh Zeinuddin, a Malayali Muslim with Arab ancestry. In his account, a set of Arab Muslims reached Cranganore on their way to Adam’s foot in Ceylon (See: How did Adam reach Sri Lanka). The king invited them to his palace and in what must be one of the easiest conversion attempts in the world, converted after listening to their conversation. He divided the kingdom and secretly went to Arabia with the pilgrims which agrees with what Barbosa wrote. Zeinuddin also mentioned that this king was ruler of the land from Kasargod to Kanya Kumari and gives an important detail regarding the date. According to him, this incident did not happen during the lifetime of the prophet, but two centuries later.
In 1610 CE, another version of this story came out from another Portuguese writer named Joas de Barros. Barros was an administrator in the House of India and Mina in Lisbon and was responsible for dispatching various fleets to India and his work was completed by Diogo de Coutos. According to his account, Cherman Peruman was a great king and his kingdom was frequented by many Moors for commerce. According to Barros, these Moors were religious fanatics and converted the king to Mohammedanism. He moved to Calicut and the Moors there made him believe that he had to go to Mecca to save his soul, which he promptly did after diving up his kingdom. This was the time when the Portuguese had to resort to sea voyages to avoid Muslim controlled land route and were in competition with the Muslim traders to gain favours with the kings of Kerala for trade rights. Some of that antagonism is visible in the language.
Coutos then adds a twist to the tale which makes this very interesting. According to him, the Perumal was close to the St. Thomas Christians based in Kodungallur and would not do anything without consulting them. Coutos drops a bombshell by adding that he was converted to their holy faith, implying that the Perumal was converted to Christianity and not Islam. Coutos also mentions that the Perumal died in the house of Apostle St. Thomas in Mylapore and thus disagreeing with the Mecca trip.
Thus within a century, you see the story being retold to based on the convenience of the Portuguese who were doing excellent trade in Malabar. But there is one data point that stands out in the narrative of Barros. He writes that the king, Sarama Perumal reigned 612 years before “we” landed in India. It is not clear if that refers to the period when Barros’ ships landed in Malabar or if it refers to Vasco da Gama’s first voyage of 1498. Even if you take 1498 CE, the king would have reigned in 886 CE which is two centuries after the date mentioned on the board at the Cheraman Perumal Juma Masjid. This also agrees with what historian A Sreedhara Menon mentioned in his Survey of Kerala History
In 1723, the Dutch chaplain Canter Visscher wrote about this story, with another twist. He agrees that Cheraman Perumal was a great king who distributed his kingdom and undertook a voyage. The journey was, “either to the Ganges in fulfillment of a vow or as the Moors say to visit Mahomet in Arabia for the purpose of embracing his religion” implying that there were multiple theories existing at that time. The Cheraman Perumal story continued in the accounts of Dutch Commander Van Adriaan Moens (1781 CE), Francis Buchanan (1801 CE), Keralolpathi (17th or 18th century) and Granthavari (19th century).
Though there are minor variations and the influence of local politics, the Portuguese and Muslim accounts agree on one thing: a king from Kerala set off to Mecca, but this Cheraman Perumal did not travel in the time period mentioned in the board outside the mosque. But, this should be a relatively simple problem to solve. If this incident did happen, then all you need is figure out who was the last Cheraman Perumal and that is where temple inscriptions are helpful.
There is a inscription of Vikrama Chola dating to 1122 CE which mentions that while the Pandyas took to the Ghats, the Cheras took to the sea. There are other statements in that inscription which have been proven historically and hence there is some truth to the Cheras taking to the sea as well. Historians read this to mean that the last Chera Perumal, who was Rama Kulasekhara, left by sea. There is a record from another temple which mentions that a garland was offered to the deity for the benefit of Cheramar Rama which meant that the Rama Kulasekhara lived till 1122 CE.
This points to a date much later than the ones mentioned by the Portuguese and Muslim sources. There is more evidence on this front. According to the tradition the Perumal who reached Arabia sent some messengers to preach Islam in Kerala who established ten mosques, of which one is at Matayi. According to an inscription found at that mosque, it was built in 1124 CE, two years after the disappearance of Cheraman Rama Kulasekhara. Since we know the name of the king, it is easy to find references to other kings who were contemporaries and that can help solve the mystery. Two kings mentioned in connection with the last Perumal are Udaya Varman of Koluttunad and Kavivamsha of the Tulu kingdom. Based on a inscription, Udaya Varman has been dated to the early 12th century and the Alupa King Kavivamsha ruled in the first half of the 12th century.
This complicates the narrative. From the story taking place in the 8th century, we have moved to the 12th century. Now comes another story which throws a spanner into the works. It turns out that this story was known in Arabia as well. In 1882, William Logan recorded an incident where 15 years back a man came from Arabia soliciting funds for the repair of a mosque and tomb. This tomb, located in Zapahar in the Arabian coast had an inscription which said that it belonged to Abdul Rahman Saimiri, a king of Malabar. The inscription mentions that this man reached in year 212 of the Hijera. The name in the tomb looks like it was a Samuthiri, but there is no such record of a Zamorin traveling abroad and getting converted.
There is one thing though: this was an important event in Kerala’s history with the disintegration of central rule and the formation of many small kingdoms. But was the disappearance of the king the reason for this change or was the change that happened tagged to the departure of the king?
The Cheras were under attack by the Chola and Pandya forces and the king would have been forced to make deals with Jews, Muslim and Christian traders for financial and military assistance displeasing the Nairs and Brahmins. The revenue would have been affected and with an ungovernable kingdom, an easy way out would have been the abdication of the throne. With the Cholas and Pandyas attacking the north and south, many areas would have become independent of the central power and the partition of the land may have been just a formal recognition of the ground reality. The Perumal’s Mecca voyage was a symbolic tale which captured all of this.
The Brahminical narrative, Keralolpathi, has another reason for this departure. First, the Perumal was upset having reigned for a long period the land which was the gift of Parasurama and wanted to make amends. The Perumals were supposed to rule for 12 years and make way for the next one; this one ruled for 36 years. Second, he had the supreme commander of the armed forces killed on the basis of a woman’s words which he regretted later and so conversion to Islam was probably a way out.
As we go through written records, temple inscriptions and legends, this story gets murky. At this point we have two possible dates for this event: the 9th century and 12th century. It is not a difference of a few decades, but a few centuries. Some people thought he took a trip to the Ganges and another thought he was converted to Christianity and not Islam. There is even a suggestion that it was not a Perumal, but a Zamorin. Sometimes, from these different versions you learn more about the writer and his politics than the truth, like a kind of Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle applied to historiography. Even though the mystery is not solved, it seems that a person some repute reached Mecca from Malabar, and it seems clear that the incident did not happen in the period mentioned in the board.
If you are interested in this topic, please read these blog posts as well.
Maddy has the fascinating tale of Bom Jesus, which left Portugal in 1533 with 18 tons of Fugger’s copper, 4 tons of tin, elephant tusks, gold and silver. The ship went missing and was discovered 475 years later.
The Nau Bom Jesus was one among them and all of 400 or so tons in displacement. That the Portuguese knew how to build sturdy ships is clear, but you must also understand that the life of such a ship was not more than four or five years. Usage of nails, galagala caulking, lead in the seams, and a final black coat of pine tar from Germany gave these ships a sinister look. The heavy guns and cannons they carried for defense made them difficult to confront. The crew comprised a captain major, a deputy, a captain, a record keeping clerk (the royal agent – like our Barros or Carrera), a pilot and a deputy pilot. Then came the master, the boatswain, ships boys, pages and the sailors or seamen. We can also see chaplains, German bombardiers, stewards, specialist technicians like carpenters, caulkers and barber surgeons in this group.
There was once some misunderstanding between the authorities of the two temples and Trikkanamathilakam temple authorities wanted to teach the smaller Guruvayur temple a lesson by not sending the elephants for the festival. The elephants were tethered at the Trikkanamathilakam temple after the festival there. Apparently, the elephants managed to break the iron chains at night and ran all the way to Guruvayur temple, with their bells clanging and reached the temple well before the time for the ezhunnallathu (the ceremonial procession of the deity).
Kurnool, some 120 miles south of Hyderabad, became in the 18th century semi-independent under its own Pathan Nawabs. It was captured by Haidar ‘Ali of Mysore, and in 1799 was given to the Nizam at the division of Tipu Sultan’s territory. It was ceded by him to the East India Company in 1800, although the Nawabs were left in charge in return for a tribute to Madras. The last of them was judged guilty of treasonable activity in 1838 and the territory was annexed, although left in the charge of a British Commissioner and Agent until 1858 rather than under the normal Collector and Magistrate of British India. The arts flourished under the Nawabs and an offshoot of the Hyderabad style of painting can be located there (Zebrowski 1983, pp. 272-3). In the 19th century Kurnool produced paintings on leather of both Hindu and decorative subjects, but this painting by Kurnool artist would seem to be a rare instance of a Deccani ‘Company’ painting. The artist has combined a delicate Deccani approach to landscape with the more naturalistic traditions associated with European portraiture.
Koenraad Elst takes to task those who think that Vatican was originally a Shiva temple and has other miscellaneous crazy ideas.
In fact, the shape of the church is standard, and therefore the claim implies that most classical churches, thousands of them, are really shaped like Shiva Lingams. If your eyes are very hazy, you might indeed get the impression of a similarity. This school is quickly satisfied with a mere semblance of similarity. Thus, a 3-shaped sign in the undeciphered Indus script is declared to be Om/Aum sign; as is a door ornament on the Red Fort, equally deemed to have been “originally a Hindu temple”. But even if a more perceptive look were to confirm this impression of similarity, it doesn’t prove a causal relation. The likeness between vatika and Vatican is claimed to “prove that the Vatican was a Hindu (Vedic) religious centre before its incumbent was forced to accept Christianity from 1st century AD”. No, this phrase merely shows the miserably low standards of proof applied by the Hindu history-rewriters. Also, no evidence is attempted, or known from elsewhere, for the momentous replacement or forcible conversion of this Vedic pontiff.
The 79th carnival will be up on Independence day. If you have any nominations, please leave a comment.