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A glimpse into Soli Sorabjee’s life and law practice

Posted on June 3, 2022 by kavyawahi

How does a Parsi lawyer, deeply influenced by the principles of Roman Catholicism, fall in love with a Bahá’í and go on to become the Attorney General of India for a Hindu nationalist BJP government? How does a boy with a broken leg, who studied in a Gujarati-medium school, and lost his father at the age of nineteen, go on to mount a heroic defense of the Janata government’s decision to dissolve Congress state legislatures (in 1977) in the Supreme Court? How does a lawyer with a humdrum customs and excise law practice, whose grandfather sold horsedrawn carriages in Bombay, become a U.N. human rights rapporteur, and repeatedly defend the fundamental right to free speech and expression in the Supreme Court of India?

Let’s read an excerpt from Abhinav Chandrachud’s latest book Soli Sorabjee, Life and Times: An Authorized Biography.

A lawyer’s first brief is always considered to be very memorable. Sorabjee’s first brief was given to him by a Parsi attorney, Naval Vakil, a partner at Little & Company, a firm which used to heavily brief his senior, Kharshedji Bhabha. It was not a very serious brief. Sorabjee just had to ask Justice S.T. Desai for an adjournment in the case. Vakil sent Sorabjee the brief along with a thoughtful note. It said: ‘I hope it leads to more success.’ However, in this, his very first case at the Bombay High Court, Sorabjee failed. The judge refused Sorabjee his adjournment.

Even so, Sorabjee marked a fee of two ‘gold mohurs’ for his appearance in the case, equivalent to thirty rupees. Since the colonial period, Bombay advocates marked their fees in gold mohurs, where one gold mohur was worth fifteen rupees. Even today, it is common to see fees being marked in gold mohurs or ‘gms’ on the Original Side of the Bombay High Court.

Sorabjee’s practice started slowly. Between 1953 and 1955, in the first ten important cases that he appeared in (i.e., cases that were either reported in the law reports or written about in the Times of India), Sorabjee was led by a senior and did not offer any independent arguments in court. Naturally, the senior advocate he was ‘led by’ most often in his cases in the early days was his own senior, Kharshedji. By 1957, however, around 4 years into his practice, Sorabjee started arguing cases on his own in the Bombay High Court. Between 1953 and 1970, before Sorabjee became a senior, he argued 63 per cent of the important cases that he appeared in himself. In other words, even as a junior, the majority of the briefs that Sorabjee received were those in which he had to stand up in a packed courtroom, face the judge, make his arguments, and try to obtain a favourable outcome for his client. This number rose substantially after he became a senior advocate. Between 1971 and 1975, after Sorabjee became a senior and up to the eve of Indira Gandhi’s Emergency, Sorabjee argued 81 per cent of the important cases that he appeared in himself. Like Kharshedji, Sorabjee appeared mostly on the Original Side of the Bombay High Court. Like him, Sorabjee appeared both before a single judge and division bench in equal proportions.

There is no doubt that Parsi connections helped Sorabjee. He grew up in a wealthy, well-connected Parsi family. He was privileged. He did not have to worry about earning money in the early days of his law practice, to pay rent or to support a family. He studied in schools that had a high proportion of Parsi pupils. He got into the chamber of a prominent Parsi advocate, Kharshedji, his cousin’s husband. He got his first brief from a Parsi attorney. However, that is as far as Parsi connections could take him. In order to succeed at the Bombay Bar Association, Sorabjee had to perform well as a lawyer, in the absence of which his benefactors would soon have abandoned him. Most of the judges and clients were non-Parsis. Between 1953 and 1975, for instance, in the 132 reported cases in which Sorabjee appeared, only 22 (16 per cent) had a Parsi judge on the bench.

Sorabjee started getting noticed by the judges of the Bombay High Court a few years into his practice. In 1957, Chief Justice M.C. Chagla, a non-Parsi judge, appointed Sorabjee as an ‘amicus curiae’ or ‘friend of the court’ to assist the court in a divorce case under the Hindu Marriage Act, 1955. Chagla must have seen a spark in Sorabjee and tried to encourage him by appointing him as an amicus. Chagla concluded his short judgment in the case with the following line: ‘We are thankful to Mr Sorabjee who assisted this Court as amicus curiae.’ In many cases, Sorabjee did things that might have helped him gain the trust of the court. He cited judgments against himself—informing the court about cases that were decided against the point that he was making. Judges therefore knew that Sorabjee was not the kind of lawyer who would obtain favourable orders by hiding things from them. He made concessions in court, giving up legal points that he felt were not worth arguing. In a case in 1969, for instance, the additional judicial commissioner in Goa noted in his judgment: ‘Shri Sorabjee, appearing for the petitioner, candidly conceded, and I think very appropriately, that the petitioner had not been able to substantiate the allegation of mala fides.’ In important cases, he went to the court prepared to argue a series of well-articulated propositions. All this earned him praise from the bench. In one case in 1965, which he argued against the rising star of the Kharshedji chamber, Fali Nariman, Justice V.D. Tulzapurkar remarked: ‘[B]oth Mr Nariman and Mr Sorabjee submitted arguments with great ability’. Nariman and Sorabjee appeared against each other often, each one getting the better of the other in nearly equal proportions.

Between 1953 and 1975 Sorabjee had a large customs and excise practice (an ‘excise’ tax was a tax on goods produced or manufactured in India—it was replaced by the ‘goods and services tax’ or GST in 2017). About 26 per cent of his work at this time was in that branch of law. However, his other large practice areas included labour cases, company cases, landlord-tenant disputes, tax cases, commercial suits, cases involving evacuee property or land requisition and cases concerning foreigners or passports.

Read this first authorized biography of Soli Sorabjee by getting your copy from your nearest bookstore or online.

An Oxford Summer And Bipolarity

Posted on May 30, 2022 by kgoba

With a strong faith in the anecdotal as well as the scientific, Aparna Piramal Raje’s Chemical Khichdi is a unique entry to the Indian self-help canon. Mental health awareness still has a long way to go, but a greater scholarly understanding of bipolarity creates a stable foundation of destigmatization and support.

Below is an excerpt from the memoir.

Summer 1997, Brasenose College, University of Oxford

‘Who would like to volunteer?’ asks the knife-thrower.

It is the annual end-of-year college ball, a night-long party that is as much part of university tradition as its historic libraries. This year the ball is circus-themed and Brasenose students are ready to celebrate. I have just finished a three-year undergraduate course in politics, philosophy and economics, and am looking forward to the ball. After all, the strenuous final examinations are over.

Now, in the middle of the night, I am taking a break from dancing and am seated in the college dining hall with friends when a professional knife-thrower asks for a volunteer to face his daggers. The daggers would put a set of kitchen knives to shame.

One of my friends raises my arm. ‘Aparna would like to do it!’

I turn to him and say, ‘Are you crazy?’

He says, ‘Go on, I know you can.’

The knife-thrower is a professional. All I need to do is stay still, I think to myself as I walk up to the target and position myself in the allotted spot. I am wearing a lime-green kurta, last worn at my cousin’s wedding six months ago. I wrap it tightly around me, making sure that none of the fabric is sticking out. I thank God for the UK’s National Health Service, hold my breath and wait. The spacious, wood-panelled dining hall, normally lined with dozens of chattering students, is equally silent.

A few seconds later, there is loud applause. The daggers were accurate and I was unflinching. My friends are very proud of me.

Crazy? Impulsive? Risky? I think this incident illustrates something more nuanced—my ability to stay calm and collected when needed, while pursuing ‘safe thrills’.

Oxford is known for its weekly ‘essay crises’, where students often stay up all night trying to complete their assignments. Final examinations at Oxford are known for their rigour. Despite these stressors, I was able to maintain my composure during the three-year undergraduate programme. A close circle of friends, a serious college relationship, lack of interpersonal conflict and a genuine interest in my chosen subjects were cornerstones of my emotional and mental equilibrium. The college relationship in particular was transformational on all counts; a wonderful way to grow and flourish as a young adult.

When it ended, a year after we left college, I could not sleep properly for days and I could not stop talking. It was obvious that I was not fully myself, with many racing and conflicting thoughts and emotions running through my head. Break-ups are significant life events for any young person. So perhaps it made sense to view my reaction, while out of character, as part of growing up and not a mental health issue. In other words, there was little to suggest then of the highs and lows to come—until the summer of 2000, before going to the Harvard Business School (HBS).

I was twenty-four then and had been working in sales and marketing with VIP luggage for three years. Midway through the year, I was accepted into HBS. The programme started in September. In the interim, I planned to take time off from the business to pursue a different sort of adventure: to intern with Randeep Sudan, a senior bureaucrat in the Andhra Pradesh government at the time. Mr Sudan worked closely with N. Chandrababu Naidu, then the chief minister of one of India’s most technologically progressive states. The internship was facilitated by a family friend and I was keen on learning about state-level governance, a completely unfamiliar subject.

Come July 2000, I found myself in Hyderabad, then the capital of Andhra Pradesh, staying as a paying guest in the home of Lakshmi Devi Raj. Over the next four weeks, I acquired two role models—my innovative and approachable boss, Mr Sudan, and my host, the sixty-eight-year-old joyful and independent Lakshmi Aunty. During the day, Mr Sudan ensured I worked on stimulating projects, such as how the state could attract more external investment.

At night, Lakshmi Aunty took me on a cultural and gastronomic tour of Hyderabad’s unique attraction: its larger-than-life parties. Musical evenings went on all night—I could not keep up with Lakshmi Aunty and her friends.

So it was a successful internship on all counts. My work was appreciated, so much so that Mr Sudan arranged for me to make a presentation to the chief minister and a large team at the end of my four-week internship. And two decades later, Lakshmi Aunty continues to remain a sprightly role model and a friend.

Yet inside, there was turmoil. I was consumed with anxiety and insecurity about my parents’ deteriorating marriage. By then it was clear there was a major estrangement, something that I had trouble accepting. I was also deeply unhappy about another relationship break-up; someone I had been seeing for nearly two years. And I was riveted by excitement about the success of my internship.

These emotions triggered the perfect storm.

My mounting excitement—the internship, Harvard—and my raw insecurities made me impetuous, restless and hypomanic. With all the idealism of a twenty-four-year-old, I was convinced I could change the world. Blurry as the past can be, I can still remember some of the half-baked thoughts and ideas that overtook my mind in the weeks before I was due to leave for Boston. I knew I could catalyse an omnipotent coalition of Indian companies and the government to rule global markets in the prevailing dot-com era, and started drawing up grandiose plans, scribbling away on bits of paper. Sleep disappeared as I felt invincible, restless and impetuous, going to bed late and rising early.

Kay Redfield Jamison, a renowned psychotherapist, bipolar patient and author of the classic An Unquiet Mind, says it best in her memoir. ‘My mind was beginning to have to scramble a bit to keep up with itself, as ideas were coming so fast that they intersected one another at every inconceivable angle. There was a neuronal pileup on the highways of my brain, and the more I tried to slow down my thinking the more I became aware that I couldn’t.’

My family was shocked at my behavioural change. ‘I know you so well. I’ve grown up with you. We shared a room for years. So to watch your face change, your eyes change, your mind change, in front of my eyes, was a terrifying experience. You behaved your whole life one way and then suddenly you started behaving another way, and you maintained that the new way is the real you, but Mom and I were saying, “No, something’s wrong, something’s different”. But you were holding on to your mood as the authentic truth. It created a friction like no other. Because we were saying something’s wrong. And you were saying nothing is wrong. That was the biggest clash. We didn’t know what it was, we were totally in the dark,’ recalls my sister Radhika.

Welcome to bipolarity.

Chemical Khichdi is available at your nearest bookstore and Amazon. Get your copy here!

Have Fun with Fermentation with This Handmade Life!

Posted on May 27, 2022May 30, 2022 by mdwivedi

‘Fermentation and civilization are inseparable.’

—John Ciardi

If you’re curious about how fermentation works, or what it is, read an excerpt from This Handmade Life by Nandita Iyer!

“Where there is life, there is fermentation.

This Handmade Life Blog — This Handmade Life||Nandita Iyer

Microorganisms are intimately related to human life. Unlike the womb, the birth canal is teeming with bacteria. The journey of a baby from the womb to the outside world through the birth canal gives it the first dose of microbes. The baby’s microbiome continues to be nurtured by the mother’s milk, which was earlier thought to be sterile. Breast milk also feeds the existing gut bacteria in the baby, kickstarting the baby’s fledgling immune and digestive systems. Our first brush with bacteria continues into the rest of our life, until death and beyond. A study was published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences on a fascinating census sorting all the life on earth by weight. The weight of bacteria on the planet is 1200 times more than the weight of all the humans on the planet. They are omnipresent, on our skin, inside our bodies and on the surface of all vegetables and fruits. When humans channelize the power of bacteria and fungi to benefit us, to add flavor to food and to modify food in a way we seek, it is called fermentation.

It is fairly simple, and you don’t need a degree in biochemistry to figure out how to ferment foods. By fermentation, we are harnessing the bacteria and yeast to do the cooking for us, pre-digesting food, creating flavors in a way we cannot do ourselves in the kitchen and providing more bioavailable nutrients.

Fermented foods are less prone to spoilage because harmful pathogens cannot survive in the acidic environment. It was used as a method to preserve food for longer when there was no access to refrigeration and other food preserving technology.

Using fermentation, we can make a variety of fermented beverages like whey sodas and ginger ales at home, reducing our dependence on artificially flavored and highly sugary drinks. These are not only low in sugar but have no artificial colors, preservatives or additives. Seasonal fruits, herbs, spices and pretty much any other natural produce can be used in these beverages. Homemade fermented beverages are also low in alcohol content, making a good replacement for alcoholic drinks for those who are keen to cut down on alcohol.

Eating fermented food regularly helps maintain a good gut microbiome. Gut bacteria play an important role in immunity, mental health, digestion, regulating blood sugar and cholesterol levels, and more. The majority of commercial ‘probiotic’ supplements don’t survive stomach acid. A thriving gut microbiome requires a regular intake of fermented foods and foods containing resistant starch (for example, raw papaya, plantain, beans and legumes, cooked and cooled rice or potatoes) that feed the good bacteria in the large intestine. Regular consumption of fermented foods also helps ease gut-related problems like acidity, bloating and poor digestion.

Homemade ferments have a microbial diversity that commercially made bottled fermented drinks lack, as they are inoculated with a set quantity of known strains. This is understandable as a fixed quantity of known microbes will give a predictable result and the standardization that commercial brands need. Fermentation makes vegetables fun. Raw carrots that are tooth-breakingly hard do very well with three days of lacto-fermentation. It is a great way to snack on carrots with hummus, or you can simply dice these and add them to salads for a beautiful flavor profile.

The brine can also be drunk diluted in water as a digestive beverage as it is full of beneficial bacteria. Fermentation is a step towards zero waste where excess produce can be preserved for longer or kitchen waste such as peels, pith and seeds of fruits like pineapple, mango, apples, etc. can be used to make sodas and vinegar.”

This Handmade Life is all about finding a passion and becoming really good at it. Divided into seven sections-baking, fermenting, self-care, kitchen gardening, soap-making, spices, and stitching-this book tells us it is all right to slow down and take up simple projects that bring us unadulterated joy. Get your copy of This Handmade Life today!

Verses to tickle your funnybone

Posted on May 23, 2022May 23, 2022 by kavyawahi

In recent times, whenever ancient Sanskrit works are discussed or translated into English, the focus is usually on the lofty, religious and dramatic works. Due to the interest created by Western audiences, the Kama Sutra and love poetry have also been in the limelight. But, even though the Hasya Rasa, or the humorous sentiment has always been an integral part of our ancient Sanskrit literature, it is little known today.

Anthology of Humorous Sanskrit Verses is a collection of about 200 verse translations drawn from various Sanskrit works or anthologies compiled more than 500 years ago. Several such anthologies are well-known although none of them focus exclusively on humor. A.N.D. Haksar’s translation of these verses is full of wit, earthy humor and cynical satire, and an excellent addition of the canon of Sanskrit literature.

Let’s read these excerpts from the book.

When his garb is simple space,

why does he need garments?

If he is covered in ashes,

what for any woman?

And if he does have a woman,

why hate Kama, God of Love?

Seeing all these contradictions

in the ways of his master Shiva,

the body of his servant Bhringi

is just a skeletal bag of bones.

1/2 v. 2399

He cannot read what others write,

his own script no one can read:

the curious thing about him is

that he himself cannot decipher

that of which he is the writer.

1/4 v. 2334

Cleverness in weighing goods

in purchase or sale

and tricks for confiscating deposits:

thus do they, these day-time robbers,

the traders steal from people.

2/14 SP v. 4035

Lakshmi sleeps on a lotus blossom,

Shiva on a hill of snow,

and Vishnu sleeps on a sea of milk.

I think this is because they are all worried

about the bed bugs where they lie.

4/1 SRB Hasya

Make love, lover, while you may,

for your youth is passing away.

When you are dead, who will give you,

with the funeral, a sweet cunt too?

4/8 v. 2366

With no meat or liquor,

nor robbery from others,

or causing them injury,

that official weeps all day.

4/10 SRB Hasya

The goddess of the state’s prosperity

sadly weeps, tears darkened by

ink drops trickling from the pen

of that clerk who plundered her.

4/14 SRB Hasya

No learning or eloquence,

not even any craftiness;

how can you then have, minister

the feeling of not being rewarded?

5/3 SM (HP v. 13)

‘What is it, mother, on top of his head?’

‘Son, it is the crescent moon.’

‘And what is that upon his forehead?’

‘That is his flaming eye.’

‘What’s in his throat?’

‘It’s a poison.’

‘And that thing below his navel?’

Hearing from her son this last,

Parvati covers his eyes

and puts her hand upon his mouth.

May she protect us always.

6/1 SMHP v. 1

Get a copy of this book of humourses verses from your nearest bookstore or online.

Think T20: ‘The Art of Management’

Posted on May 19, 2022 by kgoba

When it comes to business and management, a book written by one of India’s longest-running CEOs is as good as learning from the best. In The Art of Management, Shiv Shivakumar—formerly CEO of PepsiCo and current executive president of AdityaBirla—interviews 21 leaders from different Indian industries. By keeping an open mind and never saying no to learning, Shivakumar leans towards a more philosophical stroke of management. His sage advice on the transforming landscape borrows symbols and icons from popular culture for better comprehension.

The following excerpt talks about his view on management from the lens of the T20 model of cricket.

art of management — The Art of Management||Shiv Shivakumar

T20 has revolutionized cricket, and a number of innovations/practices from T20 cricket have now crept into Test cricket as well. Examples include the reverse sweep, slower bouncer, boundary relay catch, high fielding standards, running between the wickets, fitness of the players and, most important of all, the data and the insights from the data.

T20 is a brutal game. Yesterday’s captain is tomorrow’s twelfth man. Things are never so severe in the corporate world. You need a thick skin when you are a cricketer of the stature of Paul Stirling or Hashim Amla or Joe Root or Steve Smith or Adil Rashid, and you are not picked by any team. Even when picked, you are playing second fiddle. Life can turn out like that when you are on top of it on one day and down in the dumps the next day. Actors go through that in Bollywood and Hollywood.

The captain of a national team could be in the reserves in the Indian Premier League (IPL) team. M.S. Dhoni was dropped from the captaincy of the Pune team. No fans protested. I am sure people would have protested if Dhoni were dropped as captain of India. Captains are changed midway through the IPL. A captain has to make way and become a substitute player if the combination doesn’t work, as happened with a great like Ricky Ponting at Mumbai Indians.

This simple lesson in multiple capabilities is something we can apply in life and the corporate world. A single-skill cricketer does not have a role in the IPL team, however good he is at the international level. The best Test batsmen who cannot adapt to T20 don’t get picked, but the best bowler still has a chance. Teams tend to pick players with multiple skills—batting, bowling, fielding, wicket-keeping, captaincy. So these days, we need to have more capabilities in life and at the workplace as compared to the past.

Equally, one needs to adapt to a new world. One cannot play Test cricket and expect to succeed in a fast-changing world. This is a challenge for many managers past their prime. They are all digital immigrants and just don’t have a sense of how to work in a digital world. Rahane and Pujara in cricket are examples.

One has to constantly re-evaluate the capability set and be future-ready in life.

The Art of Management is now available at all major bookstores near you. Get your copy now!

Why does losing someone hurt so much?

Posted on April 27, 2022May 9, 2022 by prhi-dev

All of us, at some point in our lives have gone through the loss of a loved one. Most of all, we never quite know how to deal with these experiences and that’s where The Millennial Yogi steps in.

Here is an excerpt from the incredible book written by Deepam Chatterjee, where he explores the idea of death and loss.

TMY cover — The Millennial Yogi||DeepamChatterjee

‘Speak to us of loss. Why does losing someone hurt so much?’ a man at the majlis asked Vini.

‘Loss isn’t such a bad thing. When we are attached to things, we don’t want them to change. But the reality is, deep in our hearts we already know that nothing will last forever, and we hope against hope that things won’t change. When someone we really love is taken from us, we are saddened. Although we know that we cannot bring back the past, we ache and hurt because we want their comforting presence in our lives forever. It is very important to grieve when we lose someone. Grieving makes us tender and brings us close to our heart. Different people grieve differently.’

‘Some people think that grieving makes them weak. They suppress their pain and become hardened,’ someone at the majlis observed.

Vini nodded in agreement. ‘Sometimes loss can make us hateful and bitter. We can either grow into beautiful people through loss, or we can become bitter and angry. It is a choice we have to make ourselves,’

Vini explained gently. ‘Ash had gone through so much loss in his life, and it changed him. But as time passed, old patterns began surfacing. Ash was at a crucial juncture of his life . . .’

There were subtle signs that only an awakened soul could read. The old man knew that time was short. Ash was at a crucial juncture of his life. He was on the verge of falling back into the vagaries of the material world. But, if pushed in the right direction, he could attain great spiritual heights.

The old man knew that the push wasn’t going to be pleasant for Ash.

The next time the man came for his beedis, Ash told him that he was ready to work for him, as he wanted to save some money and begin a business. The old man nodded slowly and told him to head back to the forest with him that evening.

‘But remember, Ashwini, you will have to do exactly what I tell you.’

‘I am sure I will manage, Babaji. Your work can’t be too tough. Let me go and collect my things,’ Ash said.

The man smiled gently and left for the gathering. When he finished, Ash was waiting with a duffle bag in his hand. He was quite proud of the fact that he had been able to fit all his worldly possessions into one bag. Mangal stood slightly behind him with folded hands. He was happy for Ash. The old man saw them and nodded. He gave his ektara to Ash to carry and began shuffling back towards the forest.

Ash slung his bag over his shoulder and followed him. They walked quietly for some time, and all Ash could hear was the sound of their feet and the old man’s laboured breathing.

‘May I know your name?’ Ash asked the man.

‘Eh?’ The man stopped and turned his head to hear better. Ash realized that he was probably a bit hard of hearing.

‘Your name. I mean, it cannot be Baba. You must have a name,’ Ash said.

‘Oh,’ the man wheezed. ‘Call me anything you want to. It hardly matters what you call me.’

‘But I am sure you have a name, Baba,’ Ash persisted.

The old man sighed and said, ‘Ajaat. Call me Ajaat. That is a good name.’ His face crinkled into a smile.

‘Ajaat. That’s an unusual name. What does it mean?’

‘It means “the Unborn”. We all are Ajaat, beta. No one’s ever born, no one ever dies,’ he said as he sat down on a rock to catch his breath.

To know more about life and death and all that plays out in between and gather the energy to deal with all of it, get your copy of The Millennial Yogi now.

K. Raju’s enlightening introduction to The Dalit Truth

Posted on April 14, 2022April 19, 2022 by amisra

This Dalit History Month, The Dalit Truth is one of the many releases we’re spotlighting to celebrate and honor Dalit stories and discourse. Be it the framing of the Indian Constitution, making the Green Revolution a roaring success, or overcoming obstacles and hurdles that are overlooked by many, K. Raju illustrates the Dalit resilience beautifully in this book. Read an excerpt from The Dalit Truth to get a glimpse into this amazing book!

Across the country in Dalit localities today, statues of Dr Ambedkar—holding the Constitution of India in one hand and showing the way forward to the nation with the other—are a common sight. The Dalits not only own Ambedkar but also the Constitution, as they consider it as ‘Ambedkar’s Constitution’. This volume examines how far the constitutional promises made to the Dalits have been fulfilled and how far the Dalits have progressed on the way shown by Ambedkar. The Dalits are among the world’s largest group of people with a long history of discrimination against them. In their quest for equality, as promised by the Constitution, they have been waging relentless battles against the caste system.
The essays in this book are about those battles. This book is set in contemporary times, when the political mobilization of the Dalits is following a trajectory that the founders of the Constitution would never have expected. Though the Congress party, in partnership with Ambedkar, had formulated the Constitution, and brought out policies, programmes and legislations aimed at their social, economic and political empowerment, the Dalits are drifting away from the Congress in a few states. Some critics argue that it is the Congress that is drifting away from the Dalits, with Manuwadi parties making inroads there. This volume tries to objectively examine the truth and falsities that are influencing the political mobilization of the Dalits. This book has been influenced by my own career as a former civil servant and current Congress leader, and my life as a Dalit. In over three decades as a civil servant, I have had the opportunity to listen to the small and big voices of the Dalits, partake in their pain and celebrate their victories with them.
As a Congress leader, I could closely fathom the realities of politics where the Dalits have a stake. It was with this in mind that I invited thinkers who have the courage of conviction to speak the truth to contribute essays for this book. The truth some of them speak may be unsettling to a politician, whether Congress or non-Congress. It is an attempt to engage with a variety of intellectuals on Dalit lives and politics, and to acknowledge the Dalit truth. Though I strongly believe that the Congress remains the best hope for Dalit emancipation, none of the essays in this book has been ‘censored’—including those critical of my party.
The book’s inquiry into Dalit lives takes you through to the Dalit truth. There are many things which are routinely said about truth: that it is naked and it hurts; that it cannot be hidden for too long; that it prevails. But one thing which is not often said is that it always bears the burden of the past with unflinching grace. It might reveal something ugly, dull or even obvious, but it always holds its head high elegantly since it has nothing to hide. Truth remains plain and solid in its transparency. Yet societies have always had an unsaid preference for lies.
Unlike truth, which can be uncomfortable, lies offer a tempting simplicity. They stand seductively in the corner, promising false liberation from the burden of untangling the complex web of the past. But the salve of lies is temporary. Along with being divisive, lies negate history so that the dominant classes, which are mostly responsible for fabricating them, continue their hegemony. The truth fights against forgetting, while lies encourage it. To comprehend any socio-political phenomenon, the truth must be unravelled layer by layer, like the age-old metaphor of peeling an onion to reach the core.
This metaphorical onion takes us through the layers of human and personal history to arrive at the nucleus. Over a period of time, these shiny layers of lies multiply. Each dominant regime contributes another layer of cover-up, making the quest for truth cumbersome. But the unalloyed truth remains buried underneath the palimpsest of time, mummified without decay.
And what is the truth of Dalit life? It is that in society’s reparation attempts, there is exclusion hiding behind the pretense of inclusion. It is the dominant class’s insecurity and obsession for power which makes them rob the Dalits of opportunities. The primordial lie, which forms the very basis of the Varna system, is that some are born ‘higher’ than the others. This leads to compulsive, draconian, ever-increasing lies, passed off as ‘divine will’, hiding the truth that the Dalits have been stripped of opportunities related to education, employment, wealth and dignity for centuries.
While this injustice has been at the heart of the Dalit truth, there is the other truth as well: that parallel to the stories of agony and despair of the Dalit life, there are also ones of extraordinary resilience, triumph and meaningful contribution to India and the world.
The ability of Dalit individuals to overcome adversities is so profound that it can be held as an example for future generations. The Dalits, even while being crushed by society and the state, toiling under poverty, apply their remaining energies to the development of the nation. And what better way to teach inclusivity than to celebrate the contributions of all great Indians from all communities?
Take, for example, the first Dalit female graduate of India, and one of the fifteen women members of the Constituent Assembly, Dakshayani Velayudhan. A true Gandhian, she did not hesitate to contradict Gandhi’s stand in favour of Ambedkar’s on various occasions.1 She had great determination for the Dalit cause and felt the need to lay a strong foundation for the nation. And yet, the loud lies of the dominant voices have muffled Dakshayani’s truth to a great extent.
Much before Dakshayani Velayudhan, another Dalit woman showed the world great courage and grit. Her name was Jhalkari Bai, and she showed exceptional strength and skills from an early age. In the famous battle against the British in 1857, she disguised herself as the rani of Jhansi and fought a fierce battle against British forces, facilitating the rani of Jhansi’s discreet exit from the battlefield.2 Lakshmibai’s prowess is undeniable, but the fact that Jhalkari Bai’s contribution was kept hidden for so long raises many questions.
In the history of our country, there are many instances when the truth of Dalit valour, wisdom and sacrifice was pushed under the tarp of caste-related lies. Consider Matadin Bhangi, the man responsible for awakening the conscience of Mangal Pandey. Matadin was the one who pointed out the hypocrisy of the social order which didn’t allow Pandey to accept water from his hands due to his ‘low caste’ but compelled him to bite the end of the bullets smeared with cow and pig fat. Unfortunately, for centuries after 1857, Matadin’s truth was purposefully hidden. Similarly, Udadevi and Makka Pasi, the Dalit couple martyred during the First War of Independence, were never remembered.
Ambedkar, one of the greatest figures in Indian history, is himself a story of success. The leading voice on the Indian Constitution, and a powerful leader safeguarding Dalit, women and minority rights, Babasaheb remains a beloved son of the soil. His understanding of people was truly unparalleled. He is cabined as a Dalit icon, but the truth is that his influence extends far beyond his caste, and even beyond India. He was a once-in-a-generation thinker, an advocate of a new social order that recognizes liberty, equality and fraternity as fundamental tenets of life. Also, look at Babu Jagjivan Ram. He stands out as a key figure with his share of truths while bearing the burden of lies.
A Dalit man from Bihar, he became a towering figure in the history of India, not just as a Dalit icon but as an able administrator. He ensured the implementation of constitutional promises to the Dalits after Ambedkar resigned from Nehru’s cabinet. His contributions to the Green Revolution were remarkable, helping bring food security for the first time to the hungry millions in Indians across the social spectrum. He served as defence minister during the 1971 Indo–Pak war and was instrumental in the creation of the ‘Joint Command’ of Bangladesh and Indian forces for the final assault which led to victory. Damodaram Sanjeevaiah became the first Dalit chief minister of an Indian state, Andhra Pradesh (1960–62), when he was just forty years old.
In 1962, Sanjeevaiah became the first Dalit leader to become the All India Congress Committee president (1962–63). He also served as Union minister for labour and employment (1964–66). As the Andhra Pradesh CM, he introduced 27 per cent reservations for OBCs in government jobs and educational institutions, long before the Mandal Commission came into the scene. As Union minister, he introduced the Payment of Bonus Act and pensions for the aged. He is remembered for his impeccable integrity and honesty. People of Andhra Pradesh fondly remember him as a chief minister who, after stepping down from office in Hyderabad, took a public transport bus to reach his humble house in his native village in the Kurnool district of Andhra Pradesh. An Indian Dalit is a proud citizen who believes in egalitarian assimilation of cultures—an idea alien to the hubris of those in power.
Dalits can never be accused of sub-nationalism. This sense of national integrity is one of their most remarkable contributions to India. This book is our effort to strip the lies, the philosophical sidestepping and the self-serving excuses that have obscured the beating heart of the Dalit truth. The essays offer pathways of hope for the Dalits to realize the promises that we, the people of India, made to them when the Constitution was adopted on 26 November 1949. This book is a companion to the seekers of truth who wish to dismantle the architecture of lies designed to keep the Dalits in their place.

Get your copy of The Dalit Truth this Dalit History Month now!

Gods of Death and Destruction

Posted on April 8, 2022 by kgoba

A thrilling amalgam of mystery and mythology, Akshat Gupta’s The Hidden Hindu is creating buzz for its uniquely imaginative take on Indian epics. Refashioning the lore of the immortals (chiranjeevi), you can now read the prologue in its entirety in this exclusive excerpt below.

Memory of the Unborn

Year 2041

There was an eerie silence in the room. It seemed like everything had come to a halt. The space between the empty walls of the room was filled with the sound of their breath. Before Mrs Batra could ask Prithvi what was bothering him, he turned around and, in a strong voice, said, ‘I have seen it all myself in 2020 and so I know that there has not been anyone like him before, nor will there ever be. He is the divine truth, an undefeated challenge to the gods of death and destruction.’

‘How can that be? You are saying that you have seen things from before you were even born? That’s impossible!’ said the agitated seventy-four-year-old Mrs Batra. She was bewildered as to how a boy who was around twenty years old in 2041 could have seen things from 2020. ‘You are right. I wasn’t born then, yet I was present in that facility on Ross Island in more than one way. I remember everything as clearly as if I am still there, witnessing it all happening right in front of my eyes,’ replied Prithvi.

Looking at Prithvi, Mrs Batra spoke again, ‘I have witnessed many incredible events and mysterious things in the last few years, things that science does not have an answer to. So I am compelled to believe that there are truths and mysteries that an average human mind like mine cannot process.’ With tears rolling down her cheeks, she continued, ‘I wanted to live a normal life and die silently, like every average person. I almost got a satisfactory death in 2020. Things were good then. I wish I had died peacefully then, but everything changed.’ Mrs Batra took a deep breath and tried to contain herself. Prithvi silently stood there, giving her time. After a long pause, she said ‘Neither did I want to be part of any of that then, nor do I want to be a part of any of this now. Why are you here?’

‘Because I am still searching for him and you are the last person to have seen him,’ responded Prithvi with hopeful eyes. Mrs Batra looked into Prithvi’s eyes and said, ‘I lost everything in that fateful mission and yet, I don’t know how or why. Yes, I have seen him. But I still don’t know who he was. You were there on the island, you said. Tell me what happened on that island in 2020. You said you are searching for him. He was also there on the island back then. You must know who he was. What do you know about him? Tell me everything,’ insisted Mrs Batra.

Prithvi stared at Mrs Batra for a while, and then eventually asked, ‘Will you tell me everything that you know if I answer your questions?’

‘I promise, I’ll not hide anything . . . just tell me what happened in 2020. It changed my death. I don’t want to die not knowing why all this happened to me and why I was chosen.’

Now Prithvi was looking into the old, hopeful eyes of Mrs Batra looking back at him. He took a deep breath and started to narrate . . .

Want to know Prithvi’s secret? Find out in The Hidden Hindu, available at your nearest bookstore.

What was Bose’s relationship with Gandhi like?

Posted on April 8, 2022 by prhi-dev

There are not many Indian heroes whose lives have been as dramatic and adventurous as that of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose. Whether it was his resignation from the Indian Civil Service or evading the framed intelligence network to travel to Europe, controversies have always surrounded his life. And out of those controversies, a consistent one has always been his relationship with Mahatama Gandhi.

Here’s an excerpt from Chandrachur Ghose’s latest biography, BOSE, throwing light on the everlasting debate:

‘While the war of statements and counterstatements was raging on in the public domain, one man held his silence, only to speak after the dust seemed to have settled. But that was just the calm before the storm. The battle lines had been drawn. Whether Subhas realized it or not, his opponents were biding their time to come at him with the full force of satya and ahimsa, waiting for the signal.

There was never any doubt that Subhas had a great regard for Gandhi the man, and for the role he had played in transforming the character of India’s struggle for freedom. Politically and mentally, however, their differences were too big to be bridged. Subhas had started opposing Gandhi’s policies and strategies very publicly even when he was a greenhorn in the Congress, which reached the highest pitch in his 1933 joint statement with Vithalbhai Patel against Gandhi. With his larger-than-life stature, Gandhi could afford to (and he did) play down Subhas’s dissenting voice as long as he wished. The occasional periods of truce and bonhomie, with 1937 and 1938 being the best period, however, did not alter Gandhi’s fundamental attitude towards Subhas. He was still ‘not at all dependable’. And now he had thrown a direct challenge not only to Gandhi’s policies, but to his indisputable grip over Congress leadership.

Gandhi’s statement issued on 31 January was a mix of the grace and strictness of a mentor, but laced with biting sarcasm and a hint of a challenge. It set the tone for what Subhas was about to face very soon:

Shri Subhas Bose has achieved a decisive victory over his opponent, Dr. Pattabhi Sitaramayya. I must confess that from the very beginning I was decidedly against his re-election for reasons into which I need not go. I do not subscribe to his facts or the arguments in his manifestos. I think that his references to his colleagues were unjustified and unworthy. Nevertheless, I am glad of his victory. And since I was instrumental in inducing Dr. Pattabhi not to withdraw his name as a candidate when Maulana Saheb withdrew, the defeat is more mine than his. I am nothing if I do not represent definite principles and policy. Therefore, it is plain to me that the delegates do not approve of the principles and policy for which I stand.

… Subhas Babu, instead of being President on the sufferance of those whom he calls rightists, is now President elected in a contested election. This enables him to choose a homogeneous Cabinet and enforce his programme without let or hindrance.

… My writings in the Harijan have shown that the Congress is fast becoming a corrupt organization in the sense that its registers contain a very large number of bogus members. I have been suggesting for the past many months the overhauling of these registers. I have no doubt that many of the delegates who have been elected on the strength of these bogus voters would be unseated on scrutiny…

… After all Subhas Babu is not an enemy of his country. He has suffered for it. In his opinion his is the most forward and boldest policy and programme. The minority can only wish it all success. If they cannot keep pace with it, they must come out of the Congress. If they can, they will add strength to the majority.

The minority may not obstruct on any account. They must abstain when they cannot co-operate. I must remind all Congressmen that those who, being Congress-minded, remain outside it by design, represent it most. Those, therefore, who feel uncomfortable in being in the Congress may come out, not in a spirit of ill will, but with the deliberate purpose of rendering more effective service…

The popular Bengali monthly Masik Basmati asked caustically, ‘When Mahatma Gandhi is not even a four anna member of the Congress, why is he so perturbed by the victory of Subhas?”

How do you think Bose responded to all this?

To know more about the revolutionary that Bose was and how the camaraderie between him and Gandhi morphed over the years, get yourself a copy of Ghose’s BOSE.

The Professor Visits The United States

Posted on March 31, 2022March 31, 2022 by kgoba

In Planning Democracy Nikhil Menon takes us into the mind of a professor and his quest to make a newly-independent India make sense through statistics. How his bright-eyed vision of straightforward calculations mutated into a complex legacy is what makes this book a must-read for history fans.

The following is an excerpt from the chapter ‘Machine Dreams’.

From when he first laid eyes on an electronic computer, Mahalanobis was smitten. Amazed by its ability and convinced of its utility to his country’s development, he was soon involved in a quest to bring these machines to India; an affair that would last for most of the rest of his life. In March 1946, while on the east coast of the United States, Mahalanobis heard the scientific genius John von Neumann present a general account of a computer under development at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton.

The Professor broached the possibility of developing a computer in India and Von Neumann was open to working on an Indian computer the next winter, but warned that the cost of building it would be steep. Von Neumann assured Mahalanobis, however, that once the first model had been built, subsequent ones would come with a ‘moderate’ price tag—“only 30 or 40 thousand dollars.” The next month, while in New York, Mahalanobis met with statisticians from Columbia University and dropped in at the Watson Computation Laboratory. Based on these conversations he concluded that if statistics were to progress in India it was “essential to build up at least one first rate computation and calculating laboratory.” It was a matter deserving “serious attention at an early date.”

Early next year, with his country’s independence yet months away, Mahalanobis saw a digital computer in operation for the first time. During a visit to Harvard, he was given a tour of the Mark I by computer pioneer Howard Aiken, with whom he spent much of the day in conversation. The reason Mahalanobis hadn’t seen this machine on earlier trips was because “this machine was still a Navy secret.” The Professor soon proceeded to Princeton, where he renewed discussions about computing with Von Neumann. While there, Mahalanobis also made the obligatory pilgrimage to its most famous resident, Albert Einstein, who expressed hope that the transfer of power from British to Indian hands would proceed smoothly.

Increasingly occupied with national income assessment, sample surveys, and planning in India, Mahalanobis believed that computers would prove vital to addressing these questions. Digital computers could perform complex mathematical calculations at hundreds of times the speed of humans. The Professor saw that they would be of tremendous help in tabulating and processing data emanating from the National Sample Survey. Feeding this raw information into a computer, planners would be able to generate estimates and parse trends in the Indian economy in a fraction of the time it would otherwise take. Another major application for computers in the realm of planning was modeling the economy, through inter-industry input-output tables. These tables, first systematized by economist Wassily Leontief in the 1930’s, defined the interrelationship between different sectors of the economy. It was based on the understanding that one industry’s output is often the input for another. The input-output table became a widely adopted method of tracking the movement of goods and services between sectors of the economy, providing a structural snapshot of the entire economy. Leontief began using computers in developing these tables: in 1949 he entered data on forty two sectors of the U.S economy into Harvard’s Mark II, running it for fifty-six hours to create an input-output table representing the American economy. Nearly a quarter century later, Leontief would win the Nobel Prize in Economics, primarily for his work on this technique. The United States continued to conduct input-output research on a regular basis, except for a few years in the 1950s when the Eisenhower Administration had it shuttered—due to its perceived proximity to planning in communist countries.

Never burdened by any formal training in economics, Mahalanobis was instinctively predisposed toward this kind of mathematical abstraction—imagining the material life of India as a series of input-output tables. It was the distillation of a technocratic vision. But quite apart from these applications, the computer was also an object of desire, status, and fantasy. It was chased after as much for the fabulous possibilities it evoked, as the more modest capabilities it delivered. Rare, notoriously expensive, and seemingly boundless in potential, it promised the future and appeared to belong to it. The Professor salivated at the prospect.

Read about the surprising history of India’s Five-Year Plans in Planning Democracy, now available at your nearest bookstore.

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Category: Excerpts