Category: History

Uttar Pradesh: Court-Appointed Commissioner Surveys Mughal-Era Mosque Amid Claims of Ancient Hindu Temple

The mosque, built by Babar, is acknowledged as a ‘historic monument’ on the official website of Sambhal district. However, Hindu petitioners claim it’s the site of an ancient Kalki temple.

New Delhi: A Mughal-era mosque in Uttar Pradesh’s Sambhal district was on Tuesday (November 19) surveyed by an advocate commissioner on the orders of a local civil court which acted on a petition filed by Hindu activists claiming the Islamic religious site was originally a prominent Hindu temple dedicated to an avatar of Vishnu.

The managing committee of the Shahi Jama Masjid as well as the local Muslim population were astounded by the tearing hurry displayed by the advocate commissioner Ramesh Raghav in initiating the survey proceedings within a few hours after the court’s directions.

Photography and videography of the mosque premises were carried out during the survey which lasted for one and a half to two hours, according to different sources. The proceedings were carried out in the presence of the district magistrate and the district police chief.

Civil judge senior division Aditya Singh directed the survey of the mosque after an application was filed by eight plaintiffs, led by pro-Hindutva lawyer Hari Shankar Jain and Hindu seer Mahant Rishiraj Giri, as part of a civil suit claiming right for access into the mosque.

The mosque, claimed to have been built on the directions of the first Mughal emperor Babar, is acknowledged as a “historic monument” on the official website of the Sambhal district. The Hindu petitioners, however, claimed that the mosque was the site of an ancient temple dedicated to Kalki, the prophesised final incarnation of Vishnu. In 1529, Babar partly demolished the Hari Hari temple and tried to convert it into a mosque, said Vishnu Shankar Jain, lawyer and the son of the chief plaintiff Hari Shankar Jain.

While accepting the plea of the Hindu plaintiffs to get the mosque surveyed by an advocate commissioner, the court said, “The submission of a report of the site might facilitate the court to adjudicate the suit.”

Also read: Arson, Loot and ‘Unidentified’ Vandals: How Muslims Were Targeted in Bahraich

Zafar Ali, an advocate representing the mosque, said the survey went on for two hours. “No objectionable object was found during the survey. There was nothing that could have created a doubt. This has made it clear that the Shahi Jama Masjid is indeed a mosque,” Ali said.

The lawyer said the survey was carried out immediately after the court order came in  as the advocate commissioner had a personal engagement, his daughter’s wedding, to cater to in the coming days.

A copy of the civil judge senior division Sambhal order directing a survey of the Shahi Jama Masjid by an advocate commissioner. The court passed the order on an application by some Hindu plaintiffs who claim that the mosque was the site of an old Kalki (avatar of Vishnu) temple.

According to a source, the court passed its order at around 3:30 pm while the advocate commissioner’s survey began at 7 pm. “It was conducted without giving us an opportunity to file objections or without holding the necessary peace meetings in the area so that no untoward incident takes place,” said a lawyer associated with the mosque.

During the survey, the boundaries of the mosque and store rooms that were locked were also inspected, said Ali. stressing that the caretakers of the mosque fully cooperated with the court-appointed commissioner.

Vishnu Shankar Jain, lawyer for the Hindu plaintiffs, said further surveys would continue as many features of the mosque were yet to be studied. This was a “non-invasive survey,” stressed Jain.

He alleged that Babur had partly demolished the original site in 1529. “It is believed that Kalki avatar is to happen at Sambhal,” said Jain, claiming that there were several signs and symbols of the Hari Har Mandir inside the mosque.

In their suit, the plaintiffs said that the mosque was  a monument protected under Section 3 (3) of the Ancient Monuments Preservation Act, 1904. They claimed that they were being “denied access” to the mosque, described by them as “subject property,” as the Archaeological Survey of India had not taken any steps for entry of the general public as mentioned in the provisions of Section 18 of the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites and Remains Act, 1958.

The plaintiffs claimed that the site was a centuries-old Har Hari Temple dedicated to Kalki and was being “used forcibly and unlawfully” by the Jama Masjid caretaking committee. 

Zia-ur-Rehman Barq, Samajwadi Party (SP) MP from Sambhal, raised concern over the hurried manner in which the advocate commissioner’s survey was initiated. “We were not given any notice. Our reply was not sought. They carried it in a hurried manner. But there was no emergency or anything urgent,” Barq told reporters outside the mosque. 

Also read: History Will Record the Helping Hand Many Judges Lent When Indian Secularism Was Being Demolished

Barq said that the mosque was protected by The Place of Worship Act, 1991. “Despite this, some people want to spoil the atmosphere of the state and the country,” he said.

The SP leader underlined that the Jama Masjid was a Muslim place of worship. “They will not find anything even the size of a needle which can be called objectionable. This was a mosque, is a mosque and will remain a mosque,” said Barq.

Rajender Pensiya, district magistrate Sambhal, said the administration and the police were present during the survey proceedings to provide security.

According to a British-era gazetteer published in 1891, ‘The Monumental Antiquities and Inscriptions, in the North-Western Provinces and Oudh’, the Hindu claim on the mosque existed even then. The document said that the Muslims ascribed the erection of the building to the time of Babur and point to an inscription inside the mosque, which records the constriction of the site by Mir Hindu Beg in the year 933 as per the Islamic calendar, which corresponds to the year 1526.

The Hindus, however, claimed that the inscription was a forgery of a later date, said the gazetteer. “At or on the back of this slab, they say that there is the original Sanskrit inscription belonging to the temple,” the gazetteer said.

Commenting on the issue, All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (AIMIM) president Asaduddin Owaisi said the Babri Masjid judgement has emboldened Hindutva groups to target Muslim places of worship across India.

Referring to the Sambhal survey, Owaisi underlined that within three hours of the application being submitted, the civil judge ordered an initial survey at the mosque site to find out if a temple had been demolished to build the mosque.

“The application was made by a lawyer who is the UP govt’s standing counsel in SC. The survey was carried out on the same day. This is how Babri’s locks were also opened within an hour of the court order, without even hearing the other side,” wrote Owaisi on his X handle.

Remembering Alamelu Mangai Thayarammal and her Fight for Dravidian Identity

On this day, 108 years ago, a lone woman joined a group of 30 individuals to establish the South Indian Liberal Federation (SILF), later known as the Justice Party, which laid the foundation for the Dravidian movement in Tamil Nadu.

On this day, 108 years ago, a lone woman joined a group of 30 individuals to establish the South Indian Liberal Federation (SILF), later known as the Justice Party, which laid the foundation for the Dravidian movement in Tamil Nadu.

On November 20, 1916, a gathering of non-Brahmin leaders and dignitaries convened at the residence of advocate T. Ethirajulu Mudaliyar in Vepery, Chennai. Among the attendees were distinguished figures like Pitti Theagaraya Chettiar, Dr. T.M. Nair, P. Rajarathina Mudaliyar, Dr. C. Natesa Mudaliyar, P.M. Sivagnana Mudaliar and K. Venkata Reddy Naidu, among others. Alamelu Mangai Thayarmmal was the only woman present, marking a historic yet often overlooked moment.

Her influence paved the way for many women to join and shape the Dravidian movement in meaningful ways. From active involvement in the anti-Hindi agitations during both the first (1937-40) and the second phase (1965) to dismantling the Devadasi system and advocating for self-respect and widow remarriages, women became an indispensable part of the movement.

“Women consistently played a central role in the movement,” says A.S. Panneerselvan, senior journalist and author of Karunanidhi: A Life. “It was a Dalit woman leader, Annai Meenambal Sivaraj, who conferred the title of ‘Periyar’ on Periyar. Around 200 women were active contemporaries of Periyar.”

For a long time, Thayarammal’s origins, background or even a photograph was not available. A Google search of her name reveals only her attendance at the SILF’s inaugural meeting in 1916 and a montessori school bearing her name in Chintadripet, Chennai. “Well, she might have contributed land to the school,” says Era. Chiththaanai, project officer of the Tamil Virtual Academy, which also runs a digital library.

Chiththaanai also shared a digital version of Who’s Who in Madras, 1935 – an annual periodical that was published by Pearl Press in Cochin. This edition contains a fairly comprehensive note on Thayarammal.

“Alamelumangathayarammal, Mrs., Kalhasti, M.L.C., d. of Mr. P. Krishnaswamy Naidu. b. on 25th August 1892 at Udamalpet, Coimbatore Dt, Non-Brahmin, Hindu-Balija. Educated at U. F.C. M. Girls’ High School up to the old Matriculation. m. Mr. S.0 Narasimhalu Naidu in 1900. Was given the title of “Pandithai” by Saiva Sabha, Palamcottah, in June 1911. Honorary Presidency Magistrate; Vice-President, Honorary Magistrates’ Association; Non-Official Visitor to Senior Certified School: Member, Children’s Aid Society and Madras Society of Protection to Children, Thondiarpet; Member, Madras Dt. Educational Council; Member, Secondary Educational Council, Madras Dt. Propaganda Committee; Madras Presidency Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society Committee, Madras; Madras Vigilance Association; South Indian National Health Association; Hony. Magistrate, Madras Juvenile Court, Member, Madras Legislative Council, Senate and Academic Council, Annamalai University; Vice-President, Vidhava Vivaha Sahayak Sabha; Supt., Saraswathi Balika Patasala; Hony. Secy. Brahmo Samaj (Ladies Section), Madras; Hony. Health Propagandist, Chingleput Dt. Board; and Joint Hony. Secretary, Gosha Fund; and Supervisor, Carnatic Stipendiaries; Publications: “Dravidian Religion” and “Women of Ancient Dravidian Land”. Has been and is a regular Contributor to Newspapers on topical subjects and matters of social general importance. Editor of “Dravidan” for some time. Add: 12, Tulasingham St., Washermanpet, Madras,” the note reads.

Also read: The Dravidian Model and Its Long History of Upholding Women’s Rights

The fact that she edited Dravidan, a journal launched shortly after the formation of the Justice Party in 1917, speaks of her significant role as a leader within the Dravidian movement. The journal was established to unite non-Brahmins and serve as a platform for the dissemination of ideas that challenged the Brahminical dominance in Tamil society.

The nearly 200-word note in the Who’s Who in Madras, 1935, accompanied by a rare photograph, is one of the few available resources on Thayarammal, a pioneer of the Dravidian movement, and highlights her diverse interests. The note also mentions Thayarammal as MLC, a member of the Madras Legislative Council, a position she had held from 1931.

The note also mentions that Thayarammal was conferred with the title Pandithai (the female form of Pandit) by the Palayamkottai Saiva Sabha in June 1911. This honour likely followed her speech on Dravida matham (Dravidian religion) at the Sabha. The speech was later published as a book in 1914, where she is credited with the title Chennai Pandithai. In 2023, writer and researcher K. Ragupathi republished the book, along with a few other essays on Hindu religion, reigniting interest in this pioneering leader after more than a century.

“Those who attended the release event mentioned that they were unaware of such a leader,” recalls Ragupathi. “There is a fundamental difference in the ways Brahmins and non-Brahmins worship. Brahmins practiced Ambal worship, where obedience was central, while non-Brahmins engaged in Amman worship, which was characterised by vigour and fervour. This difference was evident across South India. Non-Brahmin worship was marked by equality; there was no distribution of prasadam. Instead, they cooked together in the temple and shared the meal. Thayarammal had a deep understanding of religion and caste within the Indian context, an understanding that remains relevant today.”

Ragupathi says that Thayarammal recognised the distinct differences between the Aryans and the Dravidians. “Throughout the text, she emphasised how the Dravidians had everything long before the Aryans arrived, citing Tholkāppiyam and Tirukkural as evidence. While many leaders who spoke about caste did open important doors for understanding caste, their approach was grounded in the framework of the four varnas. Thayarammal, however, approached it from a Dravidian perspective. She believed that understanding the Dravidians had to begin with them. It is difficult to comprehend Dravidians from any other vantage point,” he explains.

Ragupathi was eager to republish the book because the Aryan-versus-Dravidian debate remains highly relevant today. He also points out how, over time, non-Brahmins have come to identify as Hindus, often being pitted against each other. “The fact that she delivered the speech in a Saiva Sabha was significant. At that time, debates were ongoing within Saiva organisations about whether to accept caste. Some Tamil Saivaites, too, were arguing against caste. It was perhaps in this context that she was invited to speak.”

In the blurb for the book published by Thadagam Publications, Ragupathi writes: “In the lineage of male figures like Ayothee Dasar, who revived Tamil Buddhism, Abraham Pandithar, who revived Tamil music, and Anandham Pandithar, who revived Tamil Siddha medicine, Thayarammal should be seen in the same light. She revived the idea of the Dravidian religion. Though historically Aryans and Dravidians were opposed to each other, the fact that both were eventually transformed into Hindus is a political irony.”

In her speech, Thayarammal makes a compelling case for Dravidian religion, asserting that it existed long before the Aryan invasion. She argues that Dravidian religion was opposed to caste, promoted equality and did not involve temples or idol worship, but instead centred on the worship of hero stones. She emphasises that Dravidian religion does not adhere to the concepts of heaven or hell, but instead focuses on the notions of good and bad.

Chiththaanai states that Thayarammal hailed from a “hugely rich family” in Udumalaipettai. “They owned lands in Chintadripet, which she donated to many institutions,” he added.

He also mentions that the Palayamkottai Saiva Sabha was “progressive.” Unlike many Shaiva Sabhas of that time, which granted memberships primarily to those from dominant communities, the Palayamkottai Saiva Sabha’s by-laws declared that people from any caste could become members. “That is perhaps why she was invited to speak,” Chiththaanai adds.

Towards the end of her speech, Thayarammal exhorts non-Brahmins to “rid themselves of their Aryan shackles, sacrifice the treacherous religion” and unite beyond caste. “May the Almighty enable the Dravidians to abandon the Aryan religion that honours only one class, and return to the Dravidian religion, which treats everyone with equality beyond caste and communal differences,” she concludes.

Kavitha Muralidharan is an independent journalist.

Depoliticising the History of Resistance: An Attempt to Dilute IPTA’s Radical Legacy

IPTA gave us some marvellously radical theatre and films that cannot be forgotten. To call its members ‘mildly political’ is an insult.

This government and its minions have perfected the art of depoliticising history and wiping out any mention of mass movements that strove not only to challenge imperialism and fascism but also a highly unequal social order within India. The objective of the Progressive Writers Association (PWA) formed in 1936 was to draw attention to patriarchy, poverty, social inequality, feudalism and to the struggle against reactionary forces. The Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA) that reiterated these objectives was formed in the midst of tremendous global and national upheavals. A number of cultural organisations, troupes and activists came together in 1942 during the Quit India movement. IPTA was formally inaugurated on May 25, 1943 in Bombay. Professor Hiren Mukherjee presided over the session.

The international and the national context of the formation of IPTA was grim. Germany had overrun much of Europe, including Russia, during the Second World War. A global coalition of artists against fascism had created a platform to protest against the rising tide of Nazism that threatened to submerge major parts of the world. Members of IPTA were greatly influenced by the coming together of artists and literary luminaries across the world to resist the ideological onslaught of Germany and create a new culture of resistance. The formation of IPTA is in many circles credited to the Communist Party of India (CPI).

Like the PWA, IPTA was composed of members who held different ideological persuasions. What they had in common was commitment to struggle against the ills that submerged India and the belief that theatre as a way of reaching out to the masses and mobilising them. The role of theatre in particular, and art in general, in a highly exploitative society had to be rethought. This commitment to art not for the sake of art but for society had been enunciated in the manifesto of the Progressive Writers Association in 1936.

Also read: Murmurs of a Different Dream: Progressive Writers and Their Contribution to Indian Cinema

And now comes the oddity. While looking for the somewhat scant material on IPTA online, I came across a website under the aegis of ‘Azadi ka Amrit Mahotsav, Ministry of Culture, Government of India: Digital District Repository Detail’. The short piece on IPTA tells us that the organisation was set up to integrate and popularise the cultural movement alongside the struggle for freedom. ‘The main aim of the organisation was to inculcate national pride in the people, raise awareness of the issues faced by the people, and encourage citizens to participate in the Independence movement.’

It is precisely here that we get an idea of how the official history of a radical cultural movement like IPTA has been stripped of its dynamism, the passion of the members to eradicate poverty and illbeing, and above all their criticism of the Bengal Famine as the result of not only British policies but the zamindari system.

‘IPTA’, according to this short piece, did not follow one political ideology, it welcomed many members who were ‘mildly political’ but believed that culture could aid the independence movement.

‘Mildly political’ is frankly an insult to the intense commitment of members of IPTA to expose the hypocrisy of Indian society, and the realm of unfreedom that constrained millions to live lives of desperation.

Not all members belonged to the left, though many of them were members of the CPI. But like the members of the PWA, all of them were progressive, anti-imperial, anti-feudal and anti-capitalist. We have to but recollect the names of some of the members of IPTA to recognize what ideology they stood for. Among the members were Sombu Mitra, Bijon Bhattacharya, Utpal Dutt, Bhupen Hazarika, Raja Rao, K.A. Abbas, Balraj Sahni, Rajinder Singh Bedi, Sadat Hasan Manto, Krishan Chander, Inder Raj Anand, Prithviraj Kapoor, Kaifi Azmi, A.K Hangal, Bimal Roy, Satyen Bose, Basu Bhattacharya, Durga Khote, Dina Pathak, Shaukat Azmi, Salil Chaudhry, Sajjan, Satyen Kappu, M.S. Sathyu and Anant Nag. These are a few of the luminaries but all of them were motivated by intense and passionate commitment to propel change in reactionary traditions that held Indian society in their iron grip, and to break chains of unfreedom. IPTA gave us some marvellously radical theatre and films that cannot be forgotten.

The strategy to take theatre to the people was highly imaginative. Plays were emancipated from closed halls, and the provenance of elite audiences, as performances were held under open skies and in common spaces. This theatre was realistic, vibrant and intimately related to life experiences. The objective was to express through art, the predicaments and the aspirations of the masses. Artists took up issues of social abuse, religious bigotry, political oppression and economic domination.

Also read: Habib Tanvir’s Plays Raised the Ethos of India’s Diverse Culture

In the wake of the great Calcutta famine of 1943, Nabanna (the bountiful harvest) staged under the direction of Sombu Mitra in 1944, is seen as the first major production of IPTA. The play was written by one of the founding members of the association Bijon Bhattacharya. The narration of the exploitation of peasants by landlords, that escalated poverty, starvation and death was heartrending. The great famine Bijon Babu stressed, was man-made, it was not a natural disaster, it was the product of intense deprivation. The play showed a group of peasants who leave their famine-stricken village and make the long journey to the city only to find themselves beggars, confronted by the indifference of the metropolis. Their stay in the city politicises them and they decide to return to the village with their new awareness.

Those who had turned their attention away from the corpses that littered Bengal in 1943 wept when they saw Nabanna. The play according to the great film maker Ritwik Ghatak demonstrated that theatre was not only a part of the social struggle, but also its weapon. Bijon Babu first showed, he said, how theatre had to be committed to the people and how to portray a fragment of reality as an undivided whole on the stage. To describe this theatre as mild politics is a gross misrepresentation.

Sajjad Zaheer’s Bimar, a one-act Hindi play written in the early 1930s, and published in 1941 in an English translation ‘The Living and the Dead’, presented sharply and evocatively the opposition between the peasant-labourer and the middle classes. On the verge of death, Bashir, the central character of the play says bitterly, “The law as it now stands says that he who labours shall not get the fruit of his labour; the custom is that those who do nothing become lord and masters of those who toil. The workers might die of hunger while the leisured spend their time in comfort and luxury. Convention demands that if those who labour ask for the fruits of their labour, then they should be called seditionists and rebels, and serve as targets for bullets…Wealth, which ought to be the fruit of labour, is in the hands of useless, inept, stupid, half-witted and short-sighted fools. And he who has wealth has power; and he who has power lays down the law and makes principles. For me obedience to such principles is a crime against humanity.” The political message was clear, the appropriation of labour ought to be one of the central concerns of theatre because it is at the heart of exploitation, misery and deprivation.

IPTA impacted Bombay films of the 1950s and 1960s greatly. Their films make us reflect on how India even after independence could not shrug off its chains of social and economic unfreedom. In sum, to describe the politics of IPTA artists as ‘mild’ is not only to do them injustice, it is to sideline marvellous organisations that came together to greatly expand the idea of freedom. If marginalising radical organisations is official history, then people in power fail to understand what politics is about. Politics is contestation. What is not contested is not politics.

Neera Chandhoke was professor of political science at Delhi University.

Unshackling the Flesh and Blood Ambedkar From the Image

Anand Teltumbde’s compelling biography offers a multi-dimensional portrayal of Babasaheb Ambedkar. It is an invitation to reassess his complex and evolving strategies for social change.

We live in a time when the deification of Babasaheb Ambedkar has brought forth devotees who would rather worship him than engage with the sheer force of his ideas and his human aspect. In this scenario, Anand Teltumbde’s reflective biography of Babasaheb breaks new ground, opening up a much-needed space for introspection. 

Iconoclast: A Reflective Biography of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar, Anand Teltumbde, India Viking, 2024.

The way Iconoclast: A Reflective Biography of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar peels back the layers of hyperbole that vested interests have imposed on Ambedkar, offers readers a chance to discover Babasaheb Ambedkar’s true legacy.

The circumstances under which Teltumbde doggedly worked on the biography – incarceration under the draconian UAPA, compounded by the COVID-19 crisis and a general state of public despondency – speak of the urgency the author accorded to the work. 

The biography not only presents an insightful account of Babasaheb; it also serves as an example for biographers on how to depict their heroes with depth and honesty through case studies that future generations could objectively learn from. 

In the preface Teltumbde declares disarmingly that he has used the same methodology that Ambedkar followed in presenting his own ‘lord’, the Buddha, in his The Buddha and His Dhamma – namely, the obligation of a disciple to his preceptor. 

The book, spanning over 600 pages, is a comprehensive work. It includes a 45-page preface, 60 pages of notes and references, a 35-page long index, and select photographs that enhance the biography.  

The narrative, structured as per the historical chronology, divides Ambedkar’s life into seven phases. To this is added an eighth phase: his enduring, posthumous impact – how, as also stated by other scholars, Ambedkar became more powerful after his death than during his lifetime. Initially neglected by the mainstream, he came to be venerated as one of the central figures of the Indian political and social landscape. 

The author examines the land struggles sparked by some aspect of Ambedkar’s legacy where his followers were eventually undermined by the ruling class’s co-option strategies. He also looks at instances where Ambedkar’s followers have compromised his legacy for personal gains, leading to the fragmentation of the institutions he painstakingly established. There is a subtle suggestion that this outcome was, to some extent, foreshadowed in Ambedkar’s own life.

Assessing the tangible changes in the lives of Dalits is a significant part of the author’s analysis. He notes that despite Ambedkar’s immense contributions, their condition remains the same vis-à-vis the non-Dalits – a tiny Dalit middle class, like the tip of the iceberg, obscuring an entire structure of hopelessness beneath. Such a candid, introspective and in-depth account of the Dalit movement is rare.  

The author also scrutinises the posthumous deification of Ambedkar’s image. He emphasises that while Dalits should revere Ambedkar, they should recognise him as the embodiment of a collective history of their movement – a history that remains unstudied for its ramifications despite a plethora of literature – to which many have contributed and which remains a work in progress.

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The first phase explores Ambedkar’s initial life journey. While the harsh reality of ‘untouchability’ was a fact of daily life for impoverished Dalits, some Dalits gained access to free English education by joining the British army during the colonial period. 

Bhimrao benefited from his father’s position as Subedar Major in the army, the highest position an Indian could reach in those days. With it came a stable financial background, English education and a new cultural environment. His father’s decision to settle in Bombay enabled Ambedkar to graduate from Bombay University. Thanks to the urban environment, association with social reformers and a scholarship provided by the princely state of Baroda, a path was created for an ‘Untouchable’ youth to achieve the highest academic qualifications from prestigious universities in the United States of America and England. It transformed an ordinary Mahar lad “Bhiwa” into the formidable Dr Bhimrao Ambedkar. 

While charting these fortuitous circumstances, the author also highlights the focused, hard work put in by Ambedkar, which made him a bibliophile for life, moulded his character, thought process and ideological personality, influenced by teachers like John Dewey, James Shotwell, Edwin Seligman, and James Harvey Robinson. The narrative hints that these formative experiences informed many of Ambedkar’s later pivotal decisions and policies. 

The second phase charts Ambedkar’s evolution from a highly educated young man to the revered “Babasaheb” (1919-1927). Through meticulous research and newly discovered evidence, Teltumbde provides fresh insights into the establishment of the Excommunicated Benevolent Society, Ambedkar’s testimony before the Southborough Committee, the founding of the Marathi fortnightly newspaper, Muknayak, and his efforts to launch various educational initiatives. This phase highlights the emergence of Ambedkar’s distinct personality, with the author challenging inaccuracies in previous biographies, and offering a nuanced portrayal of Ambedkar’s early public and intellectual life.

For instance, while analysing the Chavdar Tank Satyagraha at Mahad he highlights the ‘upper’ caste community’s fierce opposition and the British administration’s biased stance. However, the author acknowledges the courageous support of a few Brahmin and ‘upper’ caste allies even when the focus is on describing the unwavering determination of the ‘Untouchable’ people willing to make any sacrifice for the cause. By revisiting Ambedkar’s strategic decisions,

Mahad: The Making of the First Dalit Revolt, Anand Teltumbde, Aakar Books, 2016.

Teltumbde offers a fresh perspective on how the satyagraha shaped not only Ambedkar’s leadership but also the foundational ethos of the broader Dalit movement, an aspect outlined in the author’s earlier book, Mahad: The Making of the First Dalit Revolt. 

Disillusioned by the entrenched attitudes of caste Hindus in Mahad, Ambedkar began to consider religious conversion as a means of liberation for the ‘Untouchables’ while simultaneously engaging more deeply in the political arena where new opportunities for representation for Dalits were emerging. The author contextualises his pivotal decisions, critically reflecting on Ambedkar’s strategies and actions. 

Whether one agrees with Teltumbde’s critique or not, this analysis is an astute examination of the significant dimensions of Dalit emancipation. It is a timely reminder to the activist community that well-defined strategic anchors are a must in the pursuit for social change.  

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Ambedkar’s plunge into politics comprises the third phase of his journey in the biography. His legislative struggles in Bombay apart, this phase is dominated by his fierce disagreement with Gandhi at the Round Table Conference, following which Ambedkar emerged as a pan-India leader of Dalits, eclipsing many a provincial leader. 

Interestingly, the author makes the point that Ambedkar’s entire battle over the question of representation would have been unnecessary had he not been so fixated on the prevailing first-past-the-post system of election and had instead considered the proportional representation system that guarantees, at least in theory, representation to each person. 

The biography also highlights how Ambedkar was taken in by the enhanced quantum of representation of Dalits offered in the Poona Pact, which he later regretted. Ironically, he had to defend the joint electorate system for Dalits during the drafting of the Indian Constitution.

The fourth phase dwells on Ambedkar’s two contradictory approaches: a tryst with class politics through the Independent Labour Party (ILP) that he founded in the wake of the Government of India Act, 1935, to participate in the provincial elections of 1936-37; and the trajectory of a religious conversion movement. Teltumbde comments on the ILP’s electoral success in the 1936 elections, and looks at the favourable public response to Ambedkar’s historic march against the feudal Khoti system in the Konkan region and during the workers’ strike against the Industrial Dispute Act in 1938.  

It seems to the author that Ambedkar’s experiment with the caste-class struggle was short-lived. Even though he had serendipitously arrived at the correct answer to the issue of the caste-class struggle in India and, unbeknownst to him, even practised it successfully through the anti-Khoti struggle and workers’ strike, the moment was wasted. Ambedkar soon turned his focus on caste, dissolving the ILP and forming the All India Scheduled Castes Federation (AISCF). He also took the first step towards statecraft, as a member of the Viceroy’s Executive Council. 

The rest of the phases dwell on the 1940s and 1950s. In the political eddies that accompanied the transfer of power, Ambedkar again suffered neglect, mainly due to the AISCF’s poor performance in the council elections of February 1946. He managed to get elected to the constituent assembly from Bengal, thanks to Jogendra Nath Mandal, in the face of stiff Congress opposition. But when his seat went to Pakistan under the Mountbatten plan of partition, he was elected to the constituent assembly from Bombay by the Congress and even made the chairman of the important Constitution Drafting Committee. The book dwells on the clandestine manoeuvres behind these crucial developments. 

As is well-known, Babasaheb resigned from the Nehru cabinet in 1951 and even burst out against the attribution of having written the Constitution itself. The discussion on the Constitution and Babasaheb is informative.

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This biography fills a significant gap in Ambedkar studies, building upon past efforts to contribute fresh insights and contextual depth. Earlier biographies by Dhananjay Keer, Changdev Khairmode, and B.C. Kamble, although extensive, had limitations that have been acknowledged by serious scholars. Khairmode and Kamble’s work extended to many volumes but often lacked the critical depth necessary for a comprehensive understanding. Recent scholarship by Ashok Gopal, Akash Singh Rathore, Scott Stroud, and Christophe Jaffrelot, which has delved deeply into Ambedkar’s socio-political and ideological dimensions, has been acknowledged in this biography.

Teltumbde’s work, with its multi-faceted portrayal of Babasaheb and bold reflections, is a seminal contribution to Ambedkar studies. Unlike many a previous authors who either glorified Ambedkar or rigidly analysed him within academic constraints, Teltumbde  transcends these boundaries. He repositions Ambedkar’s life and legacy within the framework of contemporary social struggles, particularly in the context of neoliberal capitalism and class struggles that necessitate the eradication of caste. 

Iconoclast: A Reflective Biography of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar is more than a mere recounting of historical facts; it is an invitation to reassess Ambedkar’s complex and evolving strategies for social change. The author presents Ambedkar as a figure who, despite being a product of his time, offered solutions that transcended temporal and spatial limitations. 

Teltumbde achieves his purpose by presenting Ambedkar as a human being, complete with contradictions and ideological struggles — not only as a towering leader but as someone who adapted his roles to match the changing realities of his time, even when those adaptations seemed contradictory. 

The author argues that the Dalit movement, after Ambedkar’s death, lost its direction as various leaders pursued divergent interpretations of Ambedkar’s ideology for their own gain. He discusses how Ambedkar’s ideological conflicts, particularly with communists, were weaponised to divert Dalits from livelihood-centric struggles. Teltumbde also recounts the two major post-Ambedkar land struggles in the Khandesh and Marathwada regions as rare, bright moments demonstrating the revolutionary potential of Dalits before being co-opted by the ruling class – a strategy that marked the decline of the unified Dalit movement.

Teltumbde’s narrative suggests that Ambedkar’s deification by the establishment in the 1970s was a tactical move to neutralise his radical thoughts. Prising this constructed image apart, Teltumbde reveals a more authentic Ambedkar – relentless in his mission for caste eradication and deeply attuned to the socio-political complexities of his time. 

The author reframes the challenge of carrying Ambedkar’s legacy forward in a compelling manner, emphasising that Ambedkar’s vision can be a source of inspiration at all times, but the responsibility of addressing new challenges by adapting their insights to contemporary realities lies with each successive generation. 

 Iconoclast: A Reflective Biography of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar should have been written at least 30 years ago, when Ambedkar’s writings started becoming publicly accessible. But, instead of making strategic sense of these writings, many an intellectual fell prey to the ruling class’s enticements to produce hagiographies in which every thought and action was lauded, divorced from its context as well as goal. It only deepened the confusion in the Dalit movements about how to face the harsh reality around them. 

What was needed was to present Babasaheb Ambedkar in flesh and blood, as a person struggling with his own strengths and weaknesses to create space for Dalits, as a dreamer who longed to see his ideal society based on liberty, equality and fraternity. Dalit youths would have learnt a lot from that. Although a bit ‘late’ in that sense, this biography restores a more real Ambedkar to us. 

In sum, this book is a must read not only for Dalits but for all those who are desirous of understanding the making of the Indian republic and its future.

Rahul Kosambi is a sociologist, an Ambedkar scholar and Yuva Sahitya Akademi Awardee, 2017 for his book Ubha Aadav.

How Ex-President K.R. Narayanan’s 1998 Speech Exposes the Falsity of Modi’s Claims on Birsa Munda

Modi spelt out avoidable articulations that run counter to the historical records documenting the recognition and honour bestowed by the Congress party on Munda during the freedom struggle.

On the occasion of the 150th birth anniversary of legendary tribal leader Birsa Munda on November 15, it is tragic that Prime Minister Narendra Modi followed the well-known script of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) of weaponising history and unfairly hurling accusation against Congress leaders that the party did not give due recognition to Munda’s role in the fight against the British rule. 

Modi falsely asserted that Munda was grossly disregarded and overlooked so that “… members of one party and one family got credit.” It was an oblique reference to the Congress and its top leaders such as Jawaharlal Nehru whose legacy of arduous struggle for freedom of our country and his role in nation building during post-independence period BJP vainly attempts to tarnish and erase.

It behoves the prime minister to focus attention on the enduring contribution of Munda while speaking on his birth anniversary. Instead he spelt out avoidable articulations that run counter to the historical records documenting the recognition and honour bestowed by the Congress party on Munda during the freedom struggle.

The detailed elaboration of this is available in the then President of India K.R. Narayanan’s utterances when he unveiled Munda’s statue in the precincts of the parliament on August 28, 1998. 

Also read: The Rise of Akhilesh Yadav as the Leader of the Bahujan Samaj

While hailing him as “a legendary figure in the history of our struggle for freedom,” and “an early advocate and exponent of tribal rights” he more importantly acclaimed Munda’s role in initiating “a unique phase of our freedom struggle which decisively influenced its course and subsequently made us deeply conscious of tribal issues vis-a-vis nation building”.

President Narayanan’s portrayal of Munda based on recorded historical documents signifies the crucial role he played in the anti-colonial struggle and nullifies the false narrative scripted by Modi.

Narayanan not only recalled how Munda mobilised tribals and peasants to fight against the British regime responsible for snatching away their land, plundering their forests and ruining their way of life and economy but also referred to his valiant fight against the Zamindari system which exploited them.

The battle cry of Bihar regiment invokes Munda

Union home minister Amit Shah’s claim while unveiling a statue of Munda in Delhi on November 15 that he launched a movement against religious conversion is inconsistent with the 1998 speech of President Narayanan in which he referred to Munda’s struggle “infused with the spirit of religious reform, social justice and cultural regeneration”. 

It is well recognised that Munda occupies an exalted place as a cult figure in the tribal folklore and was revered by the people as ‘Dharti Abba’ or ‘Birsa Bhagwan’. It is instructive to note that Birsa Munda Ki Jai (Victory to Birsa Munda) is one of the battle cries of the Bihar regiment of the Indian army. President Narayanan, as the supreme commander of the armed forces mentioned, among others, all those details concerning the battle cries and these testify to the honoured place given to Munda in the annals of independent India, particularly by the Indian army.

Congress commemorated Munda’s legacy during freedom struggle

Prime Minister Modi, who made a veiled attack on Congress and its leadership for not recognising the role of Munda in the freedom struggle should be mindful of the way in which leaders of the Congress invoked the name of Munda during the freedom struggle much after his martyrdom. 

It was specifically mentioned by President Narayanan in his aforementioned 1998 speech when he said, “The arduous fight of Birsa Munda against British rule and its ramifications found articulation in the larger context of our struggle for independence when Surendranath Banerjea took up the issue in the legislative council and many other leading newspapers of the period editorially supported its cause”. 

It is worth mentioning that Banerjea was closely associated with the Indian National Congress right from its foundation and his role in underlining the sacrifices of Munda indicate the manner in which freedom fighters were deeply impacted by his struggle against colonial rule.

Munda’s legacy made a deep impact on the Indian National Congress and a detailed account of the recognition it accorded to his contributions and commemorated his anti-colonial struggle can be gleaned from the aforementioned speech of Narayanan. 

“Acknowledging his (Birsa Munda’s) crucial role in awakening the masses of Chotanagpur against British rule,” he remarked, “the Indian National Congress and the Forward Block observed Birsa Day in 1940 with great enthusiasm” . 

He proceeded to add with emphasis, “Paying tribute to Birsa Munda, the Indian National Congress named the main gate of its Ramgarh Session in 1940 as Birsa Gate and published stories of his eventful life which was circulated among the delegates.”

He went on to add, “The awakening triggered by Birsa Munda found its manifestation in the formation of Kisan Sabha by many tribal groups, which later joined the struggle for freedom.”

“Many followers of Birsa Munda who took pride in calling themselves ‘Birsaites'” remarked Narayanan, “joined the nationalist movement for independence and were greatly influenced by Mahatma Gandhi”. 

He also observed, “Historians have asserted that the campaigns of Indian National Congress in Chotanagpur would not have been successful without Birsa Munda’s agitation.”

All such details catalogued from President Narayanan’s speech clearly prove the falsity of the claim of Prime Minister Modi and Union home minister Shah concerning Munda whom they portrayed by distorting history for pursuing their narrow partisan objectives.

Enduring relevance of Munda’s legacy

Towards the end of the speech Narayanan had mentioned how the British government, in spite of putting down the movement of Munda acknowledged the magnitude of its far reaching effect and this was evidenced from the secret report of the then Lt. governor who wrote, “the disturbance may have quieted down but Simla requires to be constantly reminded that it is sitting on a powder magazine.”

Indeed the far reaching impact of Munda’s legacy resonates in the struggle of tribals in several parts of the country to protect their rights, land and the forests they inhabit. Our constitution provides special safeguards for them to preserve their identity, their culture and above all their natural surroundings which are threatened by the so-called forces of modernisation. Munda’s heroic legacy in the words of Narayanan “draw our attention to the need for re-examining our concepts of development and progress” and not to distort history as has been done by Modi and Shah.

S.N. Sahu served as an Officer on Special Duty to former President of India K.R Narayanan.

This piece was first published on The India Cable – a premium newsletter from The Wire & Galileo Ideas – and has been updated and republished here. To subscribe to The India Cable, click here.

Nehru’s Prescient Vision on the Dangers of Unsustainable Development

Nehru’s warnings resonate even today and constitute a categorical imperative to find solutions to the environmental catastrophe confronting the world.

As we celebrate the 135th birthday anniversary of Jawaharlal Nehru today (November 14), it is of crucial significance to appreciate his ideas on conservation of nature in the context of rising air pollution and environmental degradation adversely impacting large tracts of northern India.

Nehru was an outstanding freedom fighter, the first prime minister of our country and the architect of modern India. But it is less known that he was very sensitive to environmental issues.

In his letters to chief ministers on August 5, 1954, after his visit to Chamba, Nehru wrote that too much human intervention in the sensitive parts of Himalayas would cause a crisis of natural disasters in the region. That part of India is now confronted with large-scale devastation because of the way in which nature has been trifled with.

In the aforementioned letters, Nehru wrote that he travelled on a motor road and reached the destination in a few hours in contrast to his previous experience of completing the journey in two full days on foot or horseback. “The new road,” he observed, “followed the winding Ravi and the changing scene was pleasant enough. Yet I remembered with regret our previous trip when we walked and rode through the dense forests, passing Khajjiar lake on the way. It is essential that the interior of these mountains should be opened out by roads and I am pressing for it all the time,” he said. “But at the back of my mind there is a feeling of sadness at the motor bus or lorry coming, puffing and hooting, and somehow desecrating the virgin forest, and perhaps interfering also in other ways with the charm of this mountain country,” Nehru added.

The desecration that Nehru was concerned about has multiplied across India and the rest of the world, causing the planetary crisis attributed to unchecked use of fossil fuels in the modes of transport used by humans.

In fact, the “puffing and hooting” which Nehru referred to in 1954 has become a dangerous new normal in 21st century life. It reminds me of Mahatma Gandhi’s warning in 1938, that if every Indian family would possess one car, there would be too many cars resulting in lack of space for people to walk. He, therefore, said with rare farsightedness that in his vision of Indian society, the possession of a car would not be considered meritorious.

Gandhi and Nehru’s warnings resonate today and constitute a categorical imperative to find solutions to the environmental catastrophe confronting the world.

In his letters to chief ministers on August 15, 1957, Nehru devoted almost two pages to the necessity of protecting the environment while pursuing developmental goals. He noted with regret that protection of the environment did not receive much attention.

He wrote, “We want both to exploit as well as conserve our natural resources. Sometimes, the desire to exploit them outruns discretion, and we forget the part of conservation”. In countries like the United States of America, exploitation of natural resources has gone on at a terrific pace, and now people there are worried about the future”. While stating that due to science and technology humans have multiplied their ability and power they “ignore the fact that nature cannot be trifled with”.

“There is a certain interdependence between man and his environment, and any upsetting factor may bring about harmful consequences,” he asserted. He observed that cutting down of trees and depletion of forests might affect the rainfall and even convert a fertile area into a desert. He flagged that “Highly industrialised countries of the world are now facing many problems both in the physical and psychological sphere of lack of adjustment of man to his environment”.

“Too much bricks and mortar at the expense of green zones may produce consequences which are not good. Too much use of insecticides, and herbicides may destroy some insects which might often play some useful role in the economy of nature. Too much destruction of birds has led to the growth of harmful insects which the birds used to eat,” Nehru cautioned.

Nehru’s words sound remarkably contemporary in our time, marked by a severe ecological crisis that threatens not only humans but all forms of life, including bird species and wildlife.

The fact that he was foregrounding these concerns, even at the formative stage of our nation building when hardly any such concerns were expressed at the global level, makes him a sensitive statesman.

He remarked in 1957 that “There is a certain economy in nature gradually established through the ages.We should certainly change this for man’s benefit. But in doing so we should take every care that the change does not lead to some other evil consequences also, apart from the good that it is intended to do.”

It is very fascinating to note that Nehru pinned his faith on science to find solutions to the environmental crisis. “Science today is advanced enough to be able to give us insights into all these aspects and to the possible consequences of any step that might be taken”, he wrote in 1957. “But this can only be done by a pooling of knowledge,” he said.

Interestingly, he, who went on to build several mega river valley projects, questioned himself about their environmental impact. “We have many large-scale river valley projects which are carefully worked out by our engineers. I wonder, however, how much thought is given before the project is launched, to have an ecological survey of the area and to find out what the effect would be on the drainage system or to the flora and fauna of that area. It would be desirable to have such an ecological survey of these areas before the project is launched and thus to avoid an imbalance of nature”.

Nehru also wrote about the recession of Himalayan glaciers in his letters. “In regard to Himalayan rivers which misbehave so often and cause floods, it has been suggested that there should be a study of glacier recession in the Himalayas to enable a better understanding of nature and the behaviour of these rivers,” he observed. These insights of Nehru indeed make him a statesman of extraordinary stature. Locating the issue of environmental issues in the global context, he referred to the International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources with its headquarters in Brussels. “This Union devotes itself to the encouragement of this larger outlook in regard to the conservation of flora and fauna and natural resources” Nehru remarked, and underlined the need for India to develop that outlook.

Nehru’s foresight testifies to his larger and universal vision which needs to be revisited to underline his enduring significance.

S N Sahu Served as Officer on Special Duty to President of India K R Narayanan.

Jawaharlal’s Nehru’s Contesting Narratives on Caste, Reservation and OBCs

Nehru oscillated between ideas of class, Gandhi, colonial theories and the idea of modern India, stressing more on class.

Today, November 14, is Jawaharlal Nehru’s birth anniversary.

A narrative has been built in recent days that the first prime minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru, while projecting himself as a secular and democratic champion of anti-colonial struggle, was reactionary and was against the Other Backward Classes and castes, given that he was opposed to reservation to the OBCs, Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes.

The debate surrounding OBC issues has garnered significant attention during the nationalist movement in various states. The princely state of Kolhapur, the old princely state of Mysore, and the princely state of Travancore were facing two important problems in the midst of the anti-Brahmin movement which was severely challenging the upper caste hegemony in the administration.

The first problem that they confronted were how to define backward classes or castes.

The second problem was how much reservation to earmark.

By that time, however, centennial census reports and ethnographic studies had unlocked a wealth of caste identities, leading to the formation of hundreds of caste organisations. The identification of the OBC category included individuals whose mother tongue was not English. This did not signal the end of the debate on caste, as nationalist leaders such as Mahatma Gandhi, B.R. Ambedkar, and Rammanohar Lohia, among others, continued to develop their own theories on the subject. Meanwhile, colonialists presented their seven theories on the origin of caste, contending that scriptures sanction it as the primary social structure. However, they also identified caste among various religions like Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Jainism, etc. even though Semitic or other religions disown caste as it goes against the basic grain of the religion. Lohia, a bitter critique of Nehru, was the one who justified the need for positive discrimination both through land reforms and reservation. 

Where do we locate Nehru in this debate? Did he propose a novel theory regarding caste?

How did he look at the social structure of India? Did Nehru’s caste and class overlap?

Despite being a cosmopolitan, Nehru was able to connect with the local masses due to his political engagement at the grass root level, engagement with global leaders, and firm belief in expanding democracy. He refused to shake hands with Benito Mussolini or meet Adolf Hitler. His serious engagement with the peasantry, mobilising them on tenancy, unpaid labour, rent, landlordism, and other issues in Uttar Pradesh during the 1920s, demonstrated his understanding of the peasant class. In fact, his speeches in Rae Bareli in 1930 served as a catalyst for the peasantry to initiate a movement.

During the colonial period, Nehru not only encountered caste issues, but also deviated from typical stereotypes about the origin of caste. His deep intellectual understanding of Indian culture, tradition, and social structure is evident in his magnum opus, Discovery of India, which he wrote between 1944 and 1945 while incarcerated in Ahmadabad fort. 

Although some of the social structures of traditional India are fundamentally changing, these social structures revolve around three issues: autonomous rural economies, joint families, and caste systems. Dismissing the theory of Indo-Aryan enslavement or extermination as the origin of caste, Nehru promoted a new theory – often overlooked in mainstream discourses – that each group was formed due to their specialisation in trade, services rendered, or their functional specialisation.

Nehru believed that Indian tradition, following the Indo-Aryan path, allowed freedom to each group, allowing them to maintain their culture and traditions while also accommodating new and emerging groups. This flexibility has even aided in the vertical movement of the caste system, as individuals from lower castes can rise to ‘higher’ castes due to their intellectual and philosophical pursuits.

Meanwhile, Indo-Aryans maintained their higher social status and continued to be classified as upper groups.

Also read: Nehru’s Other Indias

This specialisation has not only become a theory on the origin of caste; it even led to the formation of hundreds of ‘sub-castes’, although he never uses this term in his book. It is a fact that, like Alberuni and Chanakya, he identified four traditional castes with untouchables as a specific caste – particularly menial workers and scavengers. But they were within the caste structure, they were not part of the Anavaranacategory. Here we find a paradigm shift in Nehru’s analysis: Nehru seems to be like a social anthropologist, agreeing to the cultural reproduction of pollution and purity, social distancing, and endogamy or exogamy by caste groups.

He had serious objections to the Manusmriti because it enumerated the practice of various Dharmas, functions, and duties, but did not address the topic of rights in detail. He concluded his argument by asserting that the caste system and its associated practices in today’s society are entirely incompatible, reactionary, restrictive, and serve as barriers to progress. Nevertheless, he delved into the analysis of Buddhism and Jainism in India. The latter made concessions to the caste system, enabling it to withstand any attack. Meanwhile, Buddhism emerged from its resistance to ritualism, Vedic philosophy, and social structure, ultimately forcing it out of its native land.

One more interesting observation he makes is that Christianity, which came thousands of years later, also adopted the caste system; however, the same is equally affected by Islam in India. While documenting various aspects of the opposition to the caste system throughout history, Nehru came to the conclusion that the resistance groups themselves became caste groups over time. One more issue which is less known about Nehru is that he weighed in on the origin of the word ‘Hindu’, even though many argued that it is an Arab construct. He refers to the ancient Zend Avesta, to deconstruct this stereotype, approximating Max Muller’s argument.

Reservation and OBC

Was Nehru opposed to a caste-based census report in 1951? Was he opposed to the classification of OBCs and reservations? These are two questions that need to be addressed. In fact, the constitutional assembly witnessed severe debates on the issue of defining OBCs, reservation to SCs and STs, and minorities.

Nehru had a clear-cut position. He did not participate in each and every issue but his imprint, including that of Gandhi and Ambedkar, was very much visible. He voted for the removal of untouchability, backed the reservations to SCs and STs, and showed no resistance to the removal of reservations for minorities.

He accommodated his ideological opponents in his government – Syama Prasad Mookerjee, Ambedkar, etc. His initial response to reservations was evident in his intervention during the select committee report on the first amendment Bill in 1951. This occurred against the backdrop of the Madras high court’s decision to strike down caste-based reservations. In general, he agreed with the court’s decision, but he felt that it contradicted either explicit or implicit constitutional provisions. He acknowledged that 80% of India’s total population, comprising various groups, classes, individuals, and communities, was economically, socially, and educationally backward. To realise egalitarianism, every one of them should be given the opportunity to end the infinite multitude of social division. The Amendment Act made special provisions for the advancement of socially and educationally backward classes of citizens.

The most important commitment from Nehru came when he said that, the educational, social, and material development of the backward classes is a sacred obligation that none of us can deny.

His concern for OBCs and caste identity was evident when his government appointed the Kaka Kalekar Commission to identify various OBCs, a task it accomplished by identifying 2,399 castes. Paradoxically, the commission had to function without the misleading caste census, which colonialist government had initiated in 1871 and concluded in 1931.

During the Commission’s inauguration, two issues emerged, clearly defining Nehru’s position. First of all, Nehru opposed using the phrase ‘backward class’. As the majority of the population is poor and  backward, any new identity marker would belittle and stigmatise the castes. The second issue was the caste census. Patel opposed the caste census more than Nehru, as it portrayed India as a caste-ridden society at the time. Interestingly, when different states, including the Mysore state, Kerala, Bihar, or Tamil Nadu, formed backward class committees or reclassified the OBC list during the first and second decade of independence, Nehru did not oppose it, except in his 1961 letter to the then chief ministers, where he said he would prefer empowering the OBCs through education. When he introduced the Zamindari Abolition Act, his aim was to dismantle both the caste hegemony and class power relations.

Nehru exhibited a certain amount of ambiguity, which can be observed at  two levels. On the  one hand, Nehru asserted that the caste system established the foundation for democracy, however he refused to acknowledge the role of Cholas, our own Anubhava Mantapa, and cultural syncretism, with the exception of Buddhism. Secondly, for Nehru, caste was a given category rather than a defining one. For him, it originated in Arya-Dravidian conflictual relations and he believed that India’s trajectories of development would decrease the centrality of caste.

How could Nehru, an exceptional scholar who studied everything from Huein Tsang to Plato, and from the Vedas to the Upanishads, not be able to reconcile these contradictions?

One reason is that he oscillated between ideas of class, Gandhi, colonial theories and the idea of modern India, stressing more on class. Paradoxically, his idea of modern India remained as an incomplete project and his idea of caste took a backseat.

Muzaffar Assadi is former Dean, University of Mysore, Mysore.

When the Mighty Fall From Grace

The Bard has observed that ‘some rise by sin and some by virtue fall,’ which reminds one of the dizzying rise to fame of our Supreme Leader who, for an interminable decade, has controlled every aspect of our lives.

In Christian belief, mankind’s fall from grace first happened when Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, precipitating a descent from divine favour to a state of sin and loss of power. In the world we know, the story of humankind has been one about heroes vanquishing villains and the villains periodically turning the tables, in recent times much more frequently.

This disquisition, however, is specifically about famous people who have fallen from grace either because of the skullduggery of associates or their own bungling or due to their own lack of integrity that is found out. The last-named flaw is the most egregious and the most fatal. And the thing about the heroes among the well-known is that they can fall from favour in the blink of an eye. The ignominy can also strike long after they have gone. “The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.” That’s the story we tell!

There was a time when the dark secrets of historical figures were hidden from the world. But historical revisionism, which essentially questions received wisdom and the orthodox views on history, has yanked the halo off some of the consecrated icons and shown them up to be humans with feet of clay. Many world-acclaimed heroes have been damaged by the probing lens of the revisionist historian.

No modern hero has suffered a greater fall from grace than John F. Kennedy. He was once the darling of an adoring world. When he fell to an assassin’s bullet in November 1963, the entire world, cutting across ideological barriers, mourned, such was his youthful magnetism and appeal. One vividly remembers a holiday and national mourning being declared and Nehru, our prime minister addressing the nation and expressing the anguish the world felt. The universal adulation was because Kennedy was everyone’s idea of the quintessential hero. His presidency was likened to Camelot, the milieu of idyllic happiness.

As it turned out, the Kennedy cult was a meretricious hoax, squalid to the extreme. Kennedy’s marriage was an unmitigated disaster. His private life was a cauldron of marital infidelity, debauchery and incurable ailments. In the words of the consummate wordsmith, Clive James, “JFK had the sexual energy of a male fiddler crab on a spring night.” He led a most promiscuous life, even suborning his staffers as procurers. Most shocking was the revelation that his Pulitzer Prize-winning book, Profiles in Courage was ghost-written but appropriated to soup up his image when he entered politics.

Then take the case of World War II’s man of the hour, Winston Churchill, who “mobilised the English language and sent it into battle”. Revisionist digging has brought to light the fact that Churchill’s most renowned broadcasts during the war were not delivered by him. Instead, an actor, Norman Shelley was hired to impersonate him, the subterfuge necessitated because Churchill was much too drunk to deliver the speeches himself.

But that’s not all. Over time, his racism, his antipathy to India’s independence and his cruelty have shown him up to be a brutal elitist creature at heart. This is what the renowned actor, Richard Burton had to say about Winston Churchill after his experience of playing the role of the British hero: “I hate Churchill and his kind virulently…What man of sanity would say against the Japanese; ‘We shall wipe them out…men, women and children’. Such cravings for revenge leave me with a horrified awe for such single-minded and merciless ferocity.”

One can trust the Bard to diagnose in a nutshell the essence of fame: “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ‘em.” The Sangh Parivar has added another dimension to this truth by manipulating history, resuscitating their chosen dead and thrusting fame on them.

Dangerous characters from the past are being lionised as national heroes by the BJP and Sangh Parivar. In 2003, the portrait of Veer Savarkar – Hindutva ideologue, Muslim-baiter and alleged co-conspirator in the Mahatma’s assassination – was unveiled in Parliament, a recognition bestowed only on national heroes. In recent times though, Savarkar’s many infirmities have been laid bare before the unforgiving public gaze. His grovelling mercy petitions have exposed him for the quisling he was, and Rajnath Singh’s promotion of the fiction that it was at the Mahatma’s prodding that he wrote those cringing, ingratiating petitions, has no takers. Also dredged up is Savarkar’s subterfuge of arranging for the publication of books eulogising himself – the ultimate in chicanery.

In a tit-for-tat response to the defiling of Savarkar, the BJP’s IT head, who specialises in hitting below the belt, put out on social media a collage of pictures of Nehru in the company of various women with the intent of portraying him as a debauch. Among the photographs is one of Nehru hugging his sister Vijayalakshmi Pandit, a dead giveaway that truly reflected the sordid mind of the muckraker but in today’s fractious environment, his obnoxious smear has takers.

Mercifully for them, these deeply flawed heroes got exposed for the humbugs they were only posthumously and hence, escaped public ignominy in their lifetime. But what of those flawed champions of the world who have literally been ‘caught in the act’ at the height of their stardom?

As a once fanatical cricket enthusiast, we were heart-broken when our two sporting heroes – the supremely gifted and charismatic Mohammad Azharuddin and Hanse Cronje – at the height of their careers, came crashing down in 2000, implicated in a match-fixing racket that abruptly turned them from sporting icons to international pariahs. We closely followed every scrap of news on the scandal, including the King Commission proceedings, grieving all along with my fallen heroes and praying for some form of redemption, which never came. We were shattered when Cronje died in an air crash in 2002.

Yes, the fall from grace of a hero can seriously impact the devotees. But not all well-known people evoke such an empathetic, non-judgemental response when they ‘bite the dust’ as it were. To give a recent example, the moralising, self-righteous Chief Justice of India has earned eternal infamy for his prayer rendezvous with the PM and his proclaimed interactive session with the Almighty that influenced arguably the most iniquitous verdict in our history of jurisprudence. In his watch, the Supreme Court has, for the most part, become a covert, iniquitous adjunct of the political executive. In his last days in office, he is being stoned and no tears are shed.

Even nations can fall from grace. Ours certainly has! The land of the Mahatma, who deeply influenced the thinking of Martin Luther King and Mandela with his message of non-violence and truth, is today a dubious, untrustworthy entity where there is neither democracy nor equality or justice. And we are now international pariahs, bracketed with rogue states like Russia and North Korea, for breaching the sovereignty of nations and being complicit in murder-for-hire, extortion and intimidation. The Canadian authorities have named our home minister as the kingpin in this revolting underworld enterprise.

The Bard – yes, him again of the timeless wisdom – has observed that “some rise by sin and some by virtue fall.” Which reminds one of the dizzying rise to fame of our Supreme Leader who, for an interminable decade, has controlled every aspect of our lives by weaponising the state apparatus, the judiciary and his mob of adoring bhakts. And he has, inter alia, used that power to ensure that the myriad skeletons in his cupboard remain hidden from sight.

When will the world get to know the complete story behind the Haren Pandya murder, the Sohrabuddin encounter, Snoopgate, Judge Loya’s mysterious death, the prime minister’s dodgy academic credentials, the China blackmail that Subramanian Swamy keeps harping on, the Pulwama tragedy, the Pegasus, Rafale and electoral bond scandals et al.? His reputation hangs by the proverbial thread.

It’s sad that investigative journalism is dead but be sure that at some point in the future, the excavators of history will prise open the truth behind the Modi myth. And when that happens, it will be a mighty fall indeed.

Mathew John is a former civil servant. Annie Mathew teaches history.

1984: That Which We Cannot Name

We need to confront the violence that was visited on the Sikhs, and to name it. We need figures and data on how many people were affected.

Today, October 31, is the 40-year anniversary of the assassination of Indira Gandhi, then the prime minister of India, and the subsequent massacre of Sikhs in various parts of India. 

Anniversaries can be difficult affairs. Forty years on from 1984 – the date itself is shorthand for the trauma of an entire community that needs no explanation – we live with the continuing betrayal of the thousands of Sikhs who lost everything in the orgy of violence that followed Indira Gandhi’s assassination at the hands of her Sikh bodyguards, two men tasked with protecting, not killing her.

Yet, one betrayal does not justify another. 

In the words of the only prime minister to have attempted any sort of apology for the violence that overtook the Sikh community in large swathes of north India, particularly Delhi, “what took place in 1984 is the negation of the concept of nationhood enshrined in our constitution.” Note that even Dr Manmohan Singh, who we now know was threatened by the same mob dynamics that obliterated so many lives, was not able to put a label on “what took place in 1984”: 40 years on we are yet to agree on whether the brutal violence directed at Sikhs was a massacre, a pogrom, or an attempt at genocide. (Whatever it was, it was not a riot, which implies two sides clashing.)

How can you properly apologise for that which you cannot name? 

Of course, October brings with it two anniversaries. 

One, a defined act of violence and betrayal, bound in time and space to the moment when Indira Gandhi was gunned down at close range by her two bodyguards at her residence on the morning of October 31, 1984.

The second act of violence and betrayal started when she was declared dead. It radiated from her residence to parts of Delhi most susceptible to communal mob dynamics, and from there, to some other states. (To some states, but not all.) Starting with ‘khoon ka badla khoon (avenge blood with blood)’, it swept through localities. Sikhs were hunted down – the men and boys pulled out of their homes and killed, often after being doused with kerosine and then set alight in front of their remaining family. Homes were looted and then burnt down. Sikh businesses were targeted, sometimes in busy markets where adjoining establishments were not touched because they did not belong to Sikhs. Gurudwaras and schools were attacked. And all the while, the organs of state that were meant to protect the citizens of India stood by idly, or worse. Khoon ka badla khoon.

In the absence of definite figures, we do not even know for certain how much blood was spilled just after October 31. There is no definite data on the victims, no redressal or compensation, and vitally, no justice in the form of punishment of those who killed, maimed, raped, looted, incited and facilitated. This act of violence and betrayal has no end point or closure.

Sikhs as a whole are not given to public lamentations and demonstrations of victimhood. It should not need repeating that many of this community lost everything when their homeland was divided in 1947. They rebuilt their lives, letting go of the past in the tacit understanding that their future lay in secular India. Thirty-seven years later – and after almost a decade of tumultuous politics in Punjab that exploited that very loss of heritage and home – many found that their faith in the state had been naïve. Silence on these matters is not indifference or amnesia.  

If I needed any reminding, it was provided last month, on the death anniversary of my grandfather. As in recent years, his children and grandchildren remembered him on a family WhatsApp group. It was all fairly normal – our usual reaching out in memory of someone who died far too young, in 1983. Until my aunt typed, ‘Thankfully [he] didn’t have to live through the carnage of the Sikhs in 1984.’  

1984, the date that says it all.  

It was as if a dam had been breached in our collective memories. The stories are painful, and sadly, all too common – we have heard many versions of them. These happened to my family, and the smell of fear came through my screen 40 years later. We knew then, as we know now that the violence was not some spontaneous outpouring of grief that turned violent. It was targeted. That much was clear even by mid-November when the People’s Union for Civil Liberties and the People’s Union for Democratic Rights published the conclusions of their fact-finding missions that examined the violence between November 1 and 10 in a slim pamphlet titled Who are the Guilty. Four decades later, it still makes for devastating reading.

And of course, the violence did not end in November. The fires spread to Punjab and continued to spark and smoulder for another decade. We are arguably still witnessing the fallout of those funeral pyres as suggested by developments in relations with Canada. And while Punjab burnt, every Sikh man was a potential terrorist. Checkpoints, airport check-ins, trains, any public place: if you wore a turban, or were with someone wearing a turban, these places were to be navigated with care.

1984 was not an event: it is an open, suppurating wound. This wound will continue to fester as long as justice is not delivered to the victims. We are well past apologies now. Qualified apologies have been delivered, but without concrete action they remain empty words. Inquiries, eye witness accounts, testimonies, NGO reports and others provide a wealth of evidence to start the wheels of justice rolling – if there is the political will to seek meaningful justice. Testimony from the survivors have named locals, corporators, councillors, MPs, police, bureaucrats and ministers. And yet the Indian state has displayed a strange reticence in following the testimony to its logical conclusion. In the interim, governments have changed at the centre and in the affected states. And yet, even those who were in opposition when the killings took place now appear to show an indifference to the suffering that they decried at the time. Is it because it is politically expedient to keep those wounds fresh, to pick at them, come election time?

If this anniversary is to mean anything other than shame, it is time for concrete action. There has been 40 years of obfuscation, indifference, and then, to add insult to injury, exhortations to move on. Can we really expect the women of the ‘widow’s colony’ (its very existence should be an affront to our nation) to move on when their past, present and future went up in diesel-fed flames four decades ago, and when, in those four decades, nothing has been done to address their immeasurable loss? These are women whose male family members were claimed by the mob. Records from the time indicate that those seeking shelter in Tilak Vihar in 1984 were families of women with young children. There was not a single boy over 10. There was not a single earning male left, and any means of livelihood was probably reduced to ashes – that is, if they could bear to return to the place where their neighbours had turned on them. The women of Tilak Vihar are still waiting for justice. And it seems we are comfortable ignoring their grief. 

We need to acknowledge what happened in October and November 1984. We need to confront the violence that was visited on the Sikhs, and to name it. We need figures and data on how many people were affected. The fact that we do not have any definite data on those killed or injured, on properties and possessions burnt or looted, on citizens displaced, helps our collective inability to name the violence. We have elided the nature of the violence by hiding behind generalities and estimates.  

We also need to take a hard look at how the violence spread so quickly. Yes, of course, it was sponsored and encouraged, and the diesel that fed the flames came from somewhere, as did the buses that brought in mobs, or the rods and crude weapons that were handed out. But, people do not wake up one morning deciding to turn on their neighbours. The seeds of communal hatred had been cultivated while insurgency and secessionism grew in Punjab, culminating in Operation Bluestar. Once a community is painted as a problem, once their loyalties to the state are questioned, even briefly, it takes very little for communal flames to roar into life. 

The beast of communalism lurks within us still. It was nourished in the butchery of 1947, and fed again in 1983, 2002, 2008, 2013, 2020. It lies in wait for the next spark. It is time to confront the beast. The pogrom of 1984 would be a good place to start. 

Priyanjali Malik is an independent researcher.

Scholar Alleges BBC Plagiarised Her Seminal Work on Bengal Famine in Podcast; Erased Churchill’s Role

‘I submit that this erasure is systematic and deliberate. By reproducing only those of my findings that have made it into the popular press, and dealing with them in a cursory way, the BBC seeks to change the narrative around the Bengal famine.’

New Delhi: Scholar Madhusree Mukerjee has written an open letter to the BBC, in protest against what she alleges is the extensive and unacknowledged use of research detailed in her book in the outlet’s famed podcast series on the Bengal famine.

Mukherjee’s book Churchill’s Secret War: The British Empire and the Ravaging of India during World War II came out in 2010 and is largely credited with reviving conversation around former United Kingdom prime minister Winston Churchill’s role in creating and sustaining the Bengal famine of 1943, which killed an estimated three million people.

Mukherjee has alleged that the BBC’s acclaimed podcast Three Million at once rips off her book and also erases the central role played by Churchill. Mukherjee says that this is a deliberate erasure, meant to alter the narrative around the famine.

Mukherjee’s open letter carries a denial by BBC. The Wire wrote to the BBC on the allegations and received a response on October 31. A BBC spokesperson said: “As we have made clear to Dr Mukherjee in our earlier correspondence with her, we reject the claims she is making.”

The BBC said that its research was conducted over a year across the world and that Churchill was covered in the podcast.

“BBC documentary series Three Million explores the devastating impact of the Bengal famine of 1943, which saw at least three million lives lost in British India during the Second World War. The aim of the series was to focus on the lived experiences of the people directly affected by the famine and those who were eyewitnesses. The team spent over a year researching the story, drawing on a wide range of academic books, primary sources and conducting their own archival research across the world, as well as working with historical consultants and interviewing a broad range of academics.”

“We cannot talk about this historical event without mentioning Churchill – and we do cover his role throughout the series as well as the criticisms levelled against him.”

The seven-episode podcast aired from March to August this year.

Mukherjee’s original letter notes that despite BBC’s claim that its team conducted its own extensive research, their research included reviewing some sources which she discovered as relevant to the famine.

In a detailed episode-wise argument presented after her open letter, Mukherjee also highlights how some claims made by the BBC – some to do with offering hitherto un-presented information in the podcast – are false because of prior Bengali reporting by the BBC itself.

Several noteworthy scholars and journalists have noted that they are in solidarity with Mukherjee, including journalists P. Sainath and Sukumar Muralidharan, author and activist Silvia Federici, MP and author Shashi Tharoor, Cambridge professor Priyamvada Gopal, filmmakers Nilita Vachani, Diego D’Innocenzo and Partho Bhattacharya, physicists Vandana Singh and Rahul Mahajan, ecologist Debal Deb, Ghosh Literary founder Anna Ghosh, author John Horgan, former BBC World Service head Nazes Afroz, author Romi Mahajan, researcher Raghav Kaushik, professors Sipra Mukherjee and Anirban Bandopadhyay, mathematician Seema Nanda, anthropologist Felix Padel and lawyer Sarmila Bose.

The Wire is producing the whole letter and Mukherjee’s detailed comments below. Her original emphases have been retained.

§

An Open Letter to the BBC

I am writing to protest the extensive and unacknowledged use of the research and findings detailed in my book, Churchill’s Secret War (2010), in your acclaimed podcast series, Three Million.

In this book, which I will henceforth call CSW, I charged Prime Minister Winston Churchill with significant responsibility for the death toll of at least 3 million people in the Bengal famine of 1943. Expecting to be attacked by his defenders, I painstakingly documented my findings so that they could be easily verified. What I did not expect was that my meticulousness would enable my findings to be selectively reproduced and discussed while eliminating me and CSW from the discourse—and that too by the BBC.

When I sent an official complaint to BBC about the unacknowledged use of my work in Three Million, I received a denial: “We disagree that we relied heavily on your book. The team spent months researching the story, drawing on a wide range of academic books, primary sources and conducting their own archival research around the world.” This research included reviewing some of the sources I discovered as relevant to the famine, such as the diaries of Secretary of State for India, Leo Amery.

Author Yasmin Nair describes as “extractivist plagiarism” the “plundering of another’s work by going so far as to chase down their very same sources and presenting a provocative thesis as one’s own.” In this case, I charge, BBC has chased down a few of my sources, but altered my thesis to one more amenable to the powers the broadcaster answers to.

“We can’t talk about this historical event without mentioning Churchill,” the BBC also wrote back to me, inadvertently acknowledging the central importance of CSW to discussions about the Bengal famine. Why then refuse to mention the book that established the connection between Churchill and the famine?

I submit that this erasure is systematic and deliberate. By reproducing only those of my findings that have made it into the popular press, and dealing with them in a cursory way, the BBC seeks to change the narrative around the Bengal famine.

Since CSW was published, I have been repeatedly approached by BBC producers who wanted to feature my work in a standalone documentary or a series. They invariably wrote back weeks or months later, saying that more senior officials or producers had decided against including my book or my voice. This happened as recently as April 2023, when a producer wrote back: “I can no longer go further with exploring this with yourself. I hope you understand. It is a decision that is out of my hands.” These communications, as well as the elimination from your podcast of any mention of CSW, suggest that the book has been blacklisted by sections of the BBC.

In effect, the Three Million podcast series focuses negative attention away from Churchill onto lesser actors like Bengal Governor John Herbert, the topic of Episode 6. (The episode blames Herbert for the “denial policy” and fails to mention that the original scorched-earth order, for which denial policy is a euphemism, came from Churchill and was relayed to India by Amery. See CSW pages 63-64.) Further, by refusing to name CSW even while selectively reproducing its findings, BBC ensures that listeners don’t get the opportunity to read and understand the full, detailed and devastating case against Churchill and, more broadly, against British imperialism in India.

“Are we ready to touch those bits of our history that are too painful to acknowledge?” presenter Kavitha Puri asks in Episode 4 of Three Million. The linguistic gymnastics required to avoid mentioning CSW (see below) even while using so much material from the book makes it clear that the BBC may be able to “touch” some painful aspects of British imperialism, but it is still unready to empower its audience to explore the full story of Churchill’s and the Empire’s culpability.

I list below the statements in the first four episodes of Three Million that draw upon my original research and findings, as well as the statements that are partial and misleading. The page numbers below refer to the US paperback edition, published in 2011. Statements made in the podcast are in blue, with particularly significant sections noted in boldface. My comments are in black.

Sincerely,

Madhusree Mukerjee

§

Introduction

“It’s been called one of the darkest chapters in modern British history and the debate quickly veers in on the wartime prime minister Winston Churchill, blaming or defending him.”

CSW is the original source of this debate.

“There is no voice of the three million people.  This is the story of the Bengal famine told for the first time by those who were there.”

This is false.  I found and interviewed several famine survivors and witnesses, whose stories were recounted in CSW. I wasn’t the first, either. I was inspired to look for survivors by the 1997 documentary The Forgotten Famine, directed by Mark Halliley, which had remarkable filmed testimonies from famine survivors. These testimonies were collected by Nazes Afroz, whose own 8-part series on the Bengal famine was broadcast on BBC Bangla in August-September 1997. The BBC Bangla series contained eyewitness accounts of the scorched-earth policy and interviews with civil servants. Michael Portillo’s episode on Bengal Famine, as part of his BBC 4 series, Things We Forgot to Remember, was broadcast in January 2008, using Afroz’s recordings. There were also survivor and witness testimonies in the 2018 documentary Bengal Shadows. Among others, this film featured an interview with Chitto Samonto, a famine survivor and freedom fighter who is a key protagonist in CSW.

Episode 1

The sequence of events listed in the podcast as leading up to the famine follows the narrative laid out in CSW. All the factors noted in the podcast as contributing to the famine were described in CSW in detail, some of them for the first time ever.

India reluctantly pulled into the war

Indian political leaders were furious at being dragged into the conflict

See CSW pages 7-8

Japanese getting closer to Bengal

War transformed the city… soldiers on the streets

Bengal exporting rice in record amounts

Export of rice from Bengal was something CSW noted for the first time. See page 129.

“By the second world war, the British Raj was in its twilight years. Calls for Indian independence were louder than ever. Bengal had long been a crucible of anticolonial activity, but now its streets were full of soldiers in a war no one had asked to be part of. Allied troops had started arriving in large numbers once Singapore and major military strongholds were taken by the Japanese in 1942.”

CSW was the first to connect the famine with repression of “anticolonial activity,” a.k.a., the Indian freedom movement. See pages 22-30, among others.

The rice supply from Burma… came to an abrupt stop.

The colonial government was printing money to pay for all the resources, issuing sterling IOUs to be paid after the war.

The fall of Burma meant that the Japanese were on the border of India. Colonial authorities ordered the seizure of surplus food and transport from villages across the delta. It was known as the denial policy and the aim was to ensure that if Japan invaded it couldn’t access food.

CSW described all these factors in detail. It also showed that the scorched-earth orders, for which “denial policy” is an imperial euphemism, originated with Churchill and were conveyed by Amery to the Viceroy of India, Linlithgow. See page 63-64.

“Without these tens of thousands of vessels, fishermen couldn’t go to sea, farmers weren’t able to go upstream to their plots, and artisans weren’t able to get their goods to the market.”

Note the similarity of this text to “Boats took traders to the market, fishers to the sea, potters to their clay pits, and farmers to their plots.” CSW Page 65.

Soldiers and wartime workers putting pressure on food resources.

The war was already driving up the price of rice. After denial it spiraled even higher.

“There were as many colonial soldiers policing the restive Indian population as were fighting the Japanese.

CSW was the first to link the famine with British repression of India’s freedom struggle during WWII.

“For the British, keeping a tight grip on India, its food, its transport, and its people was vital for controlling its empire and winning the war.”

This was a key theme in CSW. See page 102, for example.

Cyclone, rice destroyed, crop disease.

See CSW pages 89-90.

“Viceroy Linlithgow sounded the alarm with London and asked for urgent grain imports. Britain’s War Cabinet was busy with the Allied invasion of North Africa. Some food was sent to other parts of India, but not to Bengal. In fact, it was asked to export even more rice for the war effort.”

CSW was the first to discuss these requests for food. See page 103.

It was Churchill who refused to authorize the shipping ministry to send grain to India. It was also Churchill who insisted on Bengal continuing to export rice even as it faced severe shortages, as Three Million does not note.

Episode 2

This section continues to follow the narrative first described in CSW.

Hundreds of thousands of troops had to be fed… fixed prices removed.

CSW showed that the fixed prices for rice were lifted when colonial authorities panicked over their inability to feed soldiers. The reason was that Churchill had removed most of the shipping from the Indian Ocean, so that the imports of wheat that India needed to feed the army could not be sent. The lifting of price controls precipitated famine. See CSW 94-97, 110-112.

“By early 1943, the Viceroy, the most important colonial figure in British India, was worried. He wrote to London, saying, a rice crisis was coming and asked for imports to stave it off. The request was rejected. Ships, they said, were needed for the war effort to keep up Britain’s food reserves. Prime Minister Winston Churchill wrote in a memo a few days later, “Indians must learn to look after themselves as we have done. The grave situation of the UK import program imperils the whole war effort and we cannot afford to send ships merely as a gesture of goodwill.’”

This entire section, including the quote, was originally described in CSW page 103.

“India was producing the majority of goods and weapons for the Asian front… but for now sending more food to Indians who were British subjects was far from a priority.”

This section is to be found in CSW pages 45-46.

“In Delhi, Viceroy Linlithgow was increasingly concerned. He once again asked London for imports of half a million tons of grain, noting that famine conditions had begun to appear in Bengal and it could threaten the war effort. In early August, the war cabinet, who were about to engage in a major offensive in Italy, said it may be able to deliver 150,000 tons. The Viceroy was dismayed, writing, ‘I cannot be responsible for the stability of India now.’ And that stability was coming under greater threat. The immense suffering in Bengal was fueling the independence movement, the last thing the British wanted in the middle of the war.”

This section summarizes pages 138-142 of CSW. I discovered the War Cabinet’s discussions on the Bengal famine and detailed the one on August 4, 1943, as well as two others.

“Winston Churchill had vowed never to seek the disintegration of the Empire but the famine was now hastening the end of British rule.”

Again, this is a key message of CSW. See, for example, pages 129-130.

Episode 4

“Everything was subordinated to the necessities of the war… . Fighting the war and keeping the Japanese out, he said, took priority over feeding the hungry masses. “

See CSW page 192.

“While relief efforts struggled in Bengal, the quest for more help from London were still not being fully heeded. By autumn 1943, the world knew about the extent of famine in Bengal, but the war cabinet, chaired by Winston Churchill, had promised only fractions of the aid asked for, saying, there was not enough of shipping space because of the war. The Secretary of State of India, Leo Amery, recorded in his diary in September, ‘Churchill was prepared to admit that something should be done, but very strong on the point that Indians were not the only people starving in the war.’ Amery goes on: Churchill thought that ‘starvation of anyhow underfed Bengalis is less serious than sturdy Greeks.’ ” 

This entire section, including the quotes from the Amery diaries, draws from my original and exhaustive research. See CSW page 196.

[Voice of historian Max Hastings]: “‘Even a historian such as me is sometimes shocked by some of the phrases that Churchill used in those days.’ This question matters. It’s at the heart of accusations leveled against Churchill that his attitudes to Indians affected his response to the famine. Time and time again there were requests for food imports, which were either denied or only met by promises of a fraction of the total amount. “

The podcast brings up these “accusations” without a hint of where they came from and where the full, devastating indictment can be found.

“A few days later, the Secretary of State for India, Leo Amery, asked for more food imports. Noting in his diary, he said Churchill broke into ‘a preliminary flourish on Indians breeding like rabbits.’ His requests for immediate imports were denied.”

Again, this is a summary of a longer account in CSW, along with the quotes I found and published for the first time. See CSW page 205.

The rice harvest came at the end of 1943. This time it was plentiful. Even so, Wavell was concerned about second famine. He demanded over a million tons of food grains. 

See CSW page 220

Only in April 1944 did Churchill ask for help from America. Churchill wrote to US president Roosevelt, asking for assistance. But they declined: they needed their ships for the D-Day landing.

See CSW page 230

In Churchill’s six-volume autobiography of his wartime premiership, the Bengal famine, which occupied many war cabinet discussions, is absent.

See CSW page 265.

Note: This article was updated with the BBC’s response on November 1, 2024.