The day all the states of India were re-organised

Image and Narrative contributed by Late. Subhadra Murthy, Hyderabad / Telangana This photograph is from my family album and was taken on November 1, 1956, on Andhra Formation Day, at the Legislative Assembly in Hyderabad. The then Nizam - Mir Osman Ali Khan, speaker Kashinath Rao Vaidya, the first elected Chief Minister Burgula Ramakrishna Rao, and Neelam Sanjeeva Reddy (the to-be 6th President of India) are seen in this image. On this day, all states of India were re-organised by language including the state of Hyderabad. The nine Telugu and Urdu speaking parts of Hyderabad State were merged with the Telugu-speaking Andhra to create Andhra Pradesh, with Hyderabad as its capital. The rest of the state merged with two of its neighbours to form the modern states of Maharashtra and Karnataka. My father M.K Shastri sits in the inner semi-circle in the white shirt on the right. He was fluent in Urdu, and became the Editor of Debates and the warden of M.L.A Quarters. Until this day of the formation of Andhra Pradesh, the independent state of Hyderabad was ruled by the Nizam and his family since the 18th century. I remember it was a very exciting day in Hyderabad and everyone was dressed up well. My father wore a beautiful sherwani. I insisted that I be taken along to the assembly on this important day in Indian History. There were two galleries for people to watch the moment take place. The Speakers gallery and the Visitors gallery, and my father got us a pass to the Speakers gallery. Most people of Hyderabad state were happy that that this moment in history had taken place. Everything had began to change when…

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My father’s inspired passive resistance

My father’s inspired passive resistance
Woven portrait of Raja Ram Mohan Roy. Victoria Jubilee Technical Institute. Bombay, Maharashtra. 1934

Woven portrait of Raja Ram Mohan Roy. Victoria Jubilee Technical Institute. Bombay, Maharashtra. 1934 Image and Narrative contributed by Jayati Gupta, India Indian textiles were a major part of the East India Company’s trade since the 17th century. Hundreds of thousands of people in India were involved in the textile trade, as spinners, weavers and dyers. 
By the early years of the 20th century too, textile and textile technology was controlled and promoted by the British and colonial masters. Indian textiles was a rapidly growing industry, especially since the demand for British cotton had slumped during the interwar period. During the booming era of the East India Company, raw materials were sent back to Britain and the finished goods were re-exported and sold in the colonies at exorbitant prices. The production and consumptions of textiles was controlled with imbalanced equations between the producer and the consumer, the coloniser and the colonised.

 When Mahatma Gandhi's activism to promote khadi (homespun thread and home-woven cloth) became a big part of resistance to imperial authority, cotton became an important symbol in Indian independence and the Swadeshi movement began to overrule all. The resistance took the form of boycotting foreign goods and textiles. My father, Nirmal Chandra Ghosh (1911-1989), after his initial education in the Zilla School (district scool) in Hazaribagh, Jharkhand, (formerly part of Bihar), won a scholarship and decided to train as a textile technologist. In 1930, he became a student of Victoria Jubilee Technical Institute (now Veermata Jeejabai Technical Institute/VJTI) in Matunga, Bombay (now Mumbai). He graduated in 1934 becoming that year’s recipient of the Dadabhai Nowrojee Gold Medal. His name appears on the Roll of Honour, a board that is maintained in the Institute.

 Those…

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Eight generations of Tantrics

Eight generations of Tantrics
My great-great grand father's younger brother, Govindan Achari with his grand nephews. Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala.1930

My great-great grand father's younger brother, Govindan Achari with his grand nephews. Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala.1930 Image & Narrative contributed by Sharat Sundar Rajeev, Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala. This photograph shows my great- great grand father's younger brother Govindan Achari sitting with his grand nephews. Govindan Achari (c.1850s-1944) was better known as ‘Govindan Kanakkukaran’ and ‘Valiya Mandravadi’  which indicated his position as a veteran Tantric or an occultist. Born and brought up in Kadakkavoor, a small village which was a part of the erstwhile princely state of Travancore, Govindan came from a family that had since the 15th century followed tradition of  training the youngest son of the family to become a Tantra and Black magic practitioner. All of my tantric ancestors (we have managed to count around six to eight) were patronised by the Royal Family of Travancore even before they came into power and they remained their royal physicians, astrologers, tantrics as well as black magicians for centuries to come. Govindan too like the rest of his ancestors was given a traditional education of studying Ayurveda, Tantra and Black Magic. The latter understood to construe and use evil methods and powers, as Tantra itself is mistakenly identified as the practice of black magic & witchcraft. He also studied under the well known Hindu sage at the time, Pettayil Raman Asan and was also influenced by Ayya Guru Swamikal's teachings. It was during his days in Thiruvananthapuram, the capital city of Travancore State, did he come into contact with the Hindu Saint, Sree Narayana Guru (Narayana Guru was a contemporary of Govindan). As a young man, Govindan travelled far and wide and mastered the traditional knowledge in Siddha and Ayurvedic medicine and the methods of treatment. However, in…

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Uncannily bonded to a famous grandfather I never knew

Uncannily bonded to a famous grandfather I never knew
(Left to Right) My grandfather Salil Chowdhury with my aunt Tulika, his sister Lily with my eldest aunt Aloka, and my grandmother Jyoti Chowdhury with my mother, Lipika. Bombay, Maharashta. Circa 1959

(Left to Right) My grandfather Salil Chowdhury with my aunt Tulika, his sister Lily with my eldest aunt Aloka, and my grandmother Jyoti Chowdhury with my mother, Lipika. Bombay, Maharashta. Circa 1959 Image and Narrative contributed by Aurina Chatterji, Mumbai / Toronto, Canada Even though he died when I was 12, I never really knew my grandfather, the famous music Director Salil Chowdhury. Bapi Dadu, as we called him, was an infrequent visitor at 16, Hillcrest, Perry Cross Road, Bandra. It was my grandmother, his wife's house, the site of almost daily family congregations. I never wondered why he didn't live in this house. Maybe it was because Bapi still occupied 16, Hill Crest like a benevolent ghost. The walls were plastered with his photographs, posters, awards. His songs drifted lazily from my grandmother's trusty companion, the radio transistor, the sound often muffled by pillows. I remember watching Bapi on Doordarshan, on one occasion talking to Asha Bhosle, on another - in the valorous yet invariably mangled Hindi of Bengalis - talking about Kishore Kumar. I remember numerous videos of him conducting a choir. I remember the twinkle in his eye, his proudly bald head and the way his hair always curled at his nape, begging for a hair cut. One day, in our Bapi-bedecked hall, my older cousin told me in conspiratorial tones that Bapi had another wife and he had other children and that is why he lived in Calcutta and that is why we rarely saw him. I don't remember being particularly affected. I do remember the puzzle pieces rapidly fitting into their places, but the complete picture, to me, was just a piece of delicious…

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