Satyajit Ray’s much celebrated Bengali detective — Feluda, is now on a mission in the royal sands of Rajasthan!
In ‘The Adventures of Feluda: The Golden Fortress’, the detective dodges impostors, deadly scorpions and bullets to rescue young Mukul, a boy who can recall his past life.
Here’s a peek into Feluda’s spine-chilling chase to the end of the mystery.
The train started. Feluda took out the book on Rajasthan from his shoulder bag. I took out Newman’s Bradshaw timetable and began looking up the stations we would stop at. Each place had a strange name: Galota, Tilonia, Makrera, Vesana, Sendra. Where had these names come from? Feluda had told me once that a lot of local history was always hidden in the name given to a place. But who was going to look for the history behind these names?
The train continued to chug on its way. Suddenly, I could feel someone tugging at my shirt. I turned to find that Lalmohan Babu had gone visibly pale. When he caught my eye, he swallowed and whispered, ‘Blood!’
Blood? What was the man talking about?
Lalmohan Babu’s eyes turned to the Rajasthani. The latter was fast asleep. His head was flung back, his mouth slightly open. My eyes fell on the foot on the bench. The skin around the big toe was badly grazed. It had obviously been bleeding, but now the blood had dried. Then I realized something else. The dark stains on his clothes, which appeared to be mud stains, were, in fact, patches of dried blood.
I looked quickly at Feluda. He was reading his book, quite unconcerned. Lalmohan Babu found his nonchalance too much to bear. He spoke again, in the same choked voice, ‘Mr Mitter, suspicious blood marks on our new co-passenger!’
Feluda looked up, glanced once at the Rajasthani and said, ‘Probably caused by bugs.’
The thought that the blood was simply the result of bites from bed bugs made Lalmohan Babu look like a pricked balloon. Even so, he could not relax. He continued to sit stiffly and frown and cast the Rajasthani sidelong glances from time to time.
The train reached Marwar Junction at half past two. We had lunch in the refreshment room, and spent almost an hour walking about on the platform. When we climbed into another train at half past three to go to Jodhpur, there was no sign of that Rajasthani wearing a red shirt.
Our journey to Jodhpur lasted for two-and-a-half hours. On the way, we saw several groups of camels. Each time that happened, Lalmohan Babu grew most excited. By the time we reached Jodhpur, it was ten past six. Our train was delayed by twenty minutes. If we were still in Calcutta, the sun would have set by now, but as we were in the western part of the country, it was still shining brightly.
We had booked rooms at the Circuit House. Lalmohan Babu said he would stay at the New Bombay Lodge. ‘I’ll join you early tomorrow morning, we can all go together to see the fort,’ he said and went off towards the tongas that were standing in a row.
We found ourselves a taxi and left the station. The Circuit House wasn’t far, we were told. As we drove through the streets, I noticed a huge wall—visible through the gaps between houses—that seemed as high as a two-storeyed house. There was a time, Feluda told me, when the whole of Jodhpur was surrounded by that wall. There were gates in seven different places. If they heard of anyone coming to attack Jodhpur, all seven gates were closed.
Our car went round a bend. Feluda said at once, ‘Look, on your left!’
In the far distance, high above all the buildings in the city, stood a sprawling, sombre-looking fort—the famous fort of Jodhpur. Its rulers had once fought for the Mughals.
I was still wondering how soon I’d get to see the fort at close quarters, when we reached the Circuit House. Our taxi passed through the gate, drove up the driveway, past a garden, and stopped under a portico. We got out, collected our luggage and paid the driver.
A gentleman emerged from the building and asked us if we were from Calcutta, and whether Feluda was called Pradosh Mitter.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Feluda acknowledged.
‘There is a double room booked in your name on the ground floor,’ the man replied.
We were handed the Visitors’ Book to sign. Only a few lines above our own names, we saw two entries: Dr H.B. Hajra and Master M. Dhar.
The Circuit House was built on a simple plan. There was a large open space as one entered. To its left were the reception and the manager’s room. In front of it was a staircase going up to the first floor, and on both sides, there were wide corridors along which stood rows of rooms. There were wicker chairs in the corridors.
A bearer came and picked up our luggage, and we followed him down the right-hand corridor to find room number 3. A middle-aged man, sporting an impressive moustache, was seated on one of the wicker chairs, chatting with a man in a Rajasthani cap. As we walked past them, the first man said, ‘Are you Bengalis?’ Feluda smiled and said, ‘Yes.’ We were then shown into our room.
We bet you can’t wait to find out what happens next! Grab your copy of ‘The Adventures of Feluda: The Golden Fortress’ today!
Tag: Puffin
Stepping Into the Golden Temple: ‘Amma, Take Me to the Golden Temple’ — An Excerpt
Bhakti Mathur’s ‘Amma, Take Me to the Golden Temple’, is a fascinating guide through the rich history and architecture of the magnificent Darbar Sahib in Amrtisar.
As Amma takes her children, Shiv and Veer, through the corridors of the temple, following the stories of all the Sikh Gurus and getting a taste of the langar from the world’s biggest kitchen, we immediately wish we would be transported to the Golden Temple with them!
Before you get ready for your trip to the Golden Temple with your children, here’s a glimpse of the grandeur you’re about to witness!
It was well before the sun woke up. Amma and the two boys walked barefoot in the darkness across the vast courtyard. Amma cajoled the children with quiet words of encouragement. ‘Just a little bit more, Shiv.’ And a few steps later, ‘We are almost there, Veer.’ The boys, half asleep and too tired to protest, stumbled along, holding on tightly to Amma’s hands. What had seemed like a great idea the evening before—getting up early to meet a 400-year-old guru who lived in a floating temple made of gold—wasn’t looking so grand now!
‘Here we are!’ announced Amma. They had finally reached the magnificent arched gateway that led to the temple complex. The boys got a jolt as they stepped into the shallow pool of cold water meant to cleanse one’s feet before entering the holy grounds beyond. Shiv rubbed his eyes to check that he wasn’t still warm in his bed, dreaming. A Sikh man with a long black beard and wearing a blue tunic stood guard, towering over them, holding a tall spear in one hand.
‘Veer, look!’ Shiv whispered loudly. His brother was doing exactly that, staring at the impressive figure of the guard, as he too rubbed the sleep from his eyes. White teeth peeked from under the guard’s thick moustache as he offered a broad welcoming smile to the boys. They smiled back, relieved at the display of friendliness.
‘Come along now,’ urged Amma, her heart beginning to beat quickly. She gently pushed the boys across the wide threshold of the massive doorway. They stopped. Straight ahead, in the middle of a large lake, brilliantly lit and bright against the background of the dark sky, stood an elegant domed square structure seemingly carved out of solid gold. There it was. The Golden Temple of Amritsar!
Lost for words, the three took in the wondrous sight for a few long moments. A f lock of pigeons flew off their perch atop the shiny dome of the temple and the sound off lapping wings broke their trance. Amma, Shiv and Veer started walking down a f light of steps, taking in their magnificent surroundings. The temple stood in the middle of a square shaped lake, bordered on all four sides by a wide walkway of tiled marble. A narrow causeway connected the temple to the walkway. An array of buildings, shrines and monuments of different shapes and sizes, with minarets and domes rising above them, enclosed the complex.
They stepped on to the walkway and the marble felt soothingly cool under their bare feet. There was a smattering of people around. Some sat quietly by the water’s edge, moved by the soul-stirring calmness of the beauty surrounding them. Some prayed with their foreheads touching the ground or simply with their hands folded. Some were busy at work, sweeping the night’s accumulation of dust and dirt from the black-and-white marble f loor, while others still lay asleep, wrapped in light cotton blankets.
Soothing hymns sounded softly from loudspeakers attached to the walls along the edge of the walkway. Even though Shiv and Veer did not understand the words, the simplicity of the music stirred them. The loud sound of drumbeats came rolling from one part of the temple complex. Fully awake now, Shiv and Veer ran in the direction of the drums and it was now Amma’s turn to try and keep up with them. Where the drumbeats were coming from, a crowd had gathered in front of a multi-storeyed building made of white marble with brightly lit golden domes topping its roof.
‘This is the Akal Takht, the timeless throne,’ Amma told them.
In the middle of the crowd stood a golden palki, a palanquin. Its walls were engraved with intricate designs and it was lined with red velvet on the inside. It was exquisite. As one group of people decorated it with strands of marigold and roses, another group made its way towards it from the Akal Takht. In their midst, a man with a long silver beard stood wearing a brightblue turban, a sword hanging from a cloth belt tied around his waist. On his head he carried, with great reverence, a bundle wrapped in white silk.
‘Is that the guru, Amma?’ Shiv asked, tugging at Amma’s dupatta. ‘Is he really 400 years old?’
Amma smiled mischievously and said, ‘Yes and no. Yes, that is the guru and it is indeed 400 years old. But if you are asking me whether that man is the guru, then no, he is not. That man is carrying the guru.’
‘What!’ Veer exclaimed. ‘What do you mean, he is carrying the guru?’
‘The bundle on his head is the guru. It is a book called the Guru Granth Sahib, a collection of hymns, poems and words of wisdom of the real gurus from their lifetime, and of other wise men from more than 400 years ago. The Sikhs consider this book to be their guru.’
Shiv and Veer looked at Amma as if they had been cheated.
‘Don’t look so disappointed, boys! There is a wonderful story about how this book came to be the guru and I will tell you about it later. Now, let’s not miss out on the ceremony!’
People were craning their necks to look above those in front of them for a glimpse of the precious bundle as it was being carefully placed inside the palki. Then a group of men lifted the palanquin. Others ran towards it, some to take turns at helping to carry it, others just to touch it. People showered rose petals on the bearers and a single chant arose from the crowd: ‘Wahe Guru! Wahe Guru! Wahe Guru!’ A long procession soon formed behind the palki, swallowing Amma, Shiv and Veer as they moved along with it.
Get ready for your child to guide you through the Golden Temple the next time you visit!
Coming soon — ‘Amma, Take Me to Tirupati’.
What the Readers Had to Say About the Award-Winning Book ‘Wild Child and Other Stories’
Paro Anand was awarded the ‘Sahitya Akademi Bal Puraskar’ 2017 for her book ‘Wild Child and Other Stories’ now published as ‘Like Smoke: 20 Teens 20 Stories’.
Stories of young teenagers, standing at the precipice of some of the toughest years of their lives, ‘Like Smoke’ found tremendous resonance among its readers.
Here is what some of the award-winning writer’s readers had to say about her book.
Tara Chawla
What did the story make you aware of?
Never judge a book by its cover. This is what Like Smoke has made me aware of. There is always so much more to a person than meets the eye. One can have an ugly appearance but be good at heart. Deep down in all our hearts that beauty lurks waiting to be discovered by someone who understands us. As they say, looks can be deceptive.
Likewise human beings tend to have pre-conceived notions about places as well- often formed by the views of others. Every place has its own and the same not being noticed via the superficial glance till it is explored properly and extensively without any preconceived notions.
Another thing that Paro Anand has taught me through this uniquely written book of hers is that labels are just words. The word Hindu or Sikh just creates boundaries. Why should we assume all Muslims are terrorists? Why should a person not be liked because they are ‘fat’? Why should labels define us? We judge others and ourselves with these labels. Doesn’t every one of these people with the labels have two eyes, a nose and a beating heart? Isn’t that what should define us?
What does this awareness inspire you to do?
After reading this book I have been inspired to create a change in my own behavior. I am going to put aside any assumptions that come to my mind due to the name and other’s opinions of the place. As Gandhi Ji rightly said ‘Be the change you wish to see in the world’. Instead of telling others to change themselves I am going to change myself so that others change. I am going to forget all the labels, the opinions and the assumptions. I am going to look at the world with my own eyes; I am going to decide for myself. I am the one who is going to make the change.
Nohreen Madha
What did the story make you aware of?
The story which I liked the most is ‘THOSE YELLOW FLOWERS OF AUGUST’. The first three words ‘I HATE MUSLIMS’ divert my mind towords this story. In this story, there is a girl named Nitya whose father was killed in a bomb blast. This bomb blast took place near a temple. As Hindus and Muslims are considered as enemies ( which they are not) Nitya felt that this bomb blast was done by Muslims. After her father died, they went to stay with their grandparents as her mother was depressed. Nitya joined new school. On the first day of school, Nitya like a boy named Khalid. Nitya came to known that khalid was a muslim boy and she started ignoring him. Nitya and khalid were sitting behind a big bunch of yellow flowers where they had to think about a topic for role play. Khalid came to known that Nitya was avoiding him, then too he kept on talking. Nitya told Khalid about her father and about her feeling she had for Muslims. Khalid got hurt. He explained to Nitya that bomb blast was done by Terrorist , and there is a vast difference between Muslims and Terrorist. Nitya understood and hence, forward they both became friends. That is what I too realized not to judge people because of their religion.
Shifa Azmi
What did the story make you aware of?
“Like smoke” includes 20 different stories of 20 different teenagers. Every story touches upon the emotion which every teenager may have felt during a point of their life. Stories includes factors like friendship, religion, love, hate, death…we all sometime feel depressed, stressed and feel like we just can’t take it anymore. The book is a collection of young adults fiction short stories. I think anyone who reads this book can imagine the stories. Each story will help you look inside the mind of teenagers. Each of the stories deals with some or other conflicts in a teenager’s life there are many types of conflicts- There is story related with terrorist conflicts, which led to loss of lives, people lose their parents, siblings, etc.
Experiences of teenagers, their prejudices and resolutions are predominant themes in their stories.
For example- The first story called, ‘Those Yellow Flowers of August’ deals with a teenager girl’s hatred for Muslims because she loses her Father in a bomb blast. She believes all Muslim are violent and she just used to hate them a lot, unless she met a boy names Khalid.
What does this awareness inspire you to do?
A story called, ‘They called Her fats’ is a story of Fatima Whitebread who went to win an Olympic bronze and silver medals and later in 1987, the World Championship in the field of Javelin throw. The struggle and Hard work she goes through was very inspiring.
Through this book I learnt many values, lessons, morals.
This book is a book which can change people’s perspective on many things. This book gives us message that — “No matter how many thing that matters is, we should always have positive mind, no matter what happen we should be determined and strong.
Soorya Balasubramanian
What did the story make you aware of?
The book made me aware of society’s deplorable condition. We are willing to single out an entire religion to blame for the terrorist actions of madmen. This stems a new fear- Muslimophobia. A word, I believe was never to be conceived. The author’s fury at this ideology led her to write a line that rouses anger and fury, yet makes you aware of the plight of muslims in this world. It says: “Bombs don’t have a religion. Terrorists don’t have a religion. So don’t put my belief into the same bracket as bombs.” These stories need to be placed in the hands of every world leader, commoner and terrorist.
I have learnt of Courage, not as we perceive it, but on a different level altogether. I once heard a line that bests illustrates the kind of courage I’m inspired to take up. The line is, “Courage is not the absence of fear, but the belief that something is more important than fear.” The manner with which Gaurav, a boy in one story, guides his enemy out of the vicious cycle of vices and addictions, The way Zeenat, a girl rebelling against the harsh laws in PoK, develops the amazing singing talent in her and promotes other talented people from her region, as illustrated in the book; these examples are examples of true courage. Chilling ironies accompany many stories, making me aware of the consequences of our seemingly inconsequential statements. The stories allow us to be a spectator to loss, yet, experiencing in the same measure, the emotions experienced by the characters. After all, I realized that, love and courage are 2 things prevailing over all the hardships that accompany this worldly life, while keeping us together as a society.
The 20 stories made me realize the different ways of life we live, and how this molds our character. Divorced children, Children in the heart of terrorism, abandoned, led astray, abused, sold; I am thankful I’m born into a good home. It made me realize the insignificant appearance of petty fights at home in front of the circumstances of these children.
What does this awareness inspire you to do?
It has made me look at terrorist acts differently. I now know it’s conducted by a rogue faction of a peaceful people, and that has caused me to completely change my mindset. Simple monetary aid to children in any of the above conditions wouldn’t help. It would be snatched away by greedier, idiotic minds. It has made me realize my helplessness as a child. But, as a team, I’m sure we can help make a difference. Therefore, when I’m a little older, I would like to start a group, to help evacuate those trapped in PoK, with help from the Indian Army. I would like to make an Impact with at least a few children, by rescuing them from the deplorable conditions of state run orphanages, and console them. Truly, the world needs love now, and not money. Love is the currency that keeps this world turning
Simran Zaveri
What did the story make you aware of?
Like all great books that induce powerful emotions to the readers, Like Smoke tells the tale of 20 different teenagers who are struggling with their lives. It read to me 20 different riveting and heart wrenching stories about the teenage struggles. It spoke of the different things that teenagers undergo during adolescence in today’s day and age. From reading this book, I understood the fact that teenagers feel pressured into ‘fitting in’. They are constantly being bullied into meeting the harsh standards that society makes for them. If you’re short, it’s a problem. If you’re fat it’s problem. If you’re too manly it’s a problem. I learned that a teenage life is that of loneliness, but I also learned that teenagers have fought back. Like when Anita defied her coach and with the help of her best friend made it onto the basketball team despite being very short. Or when the overweight girl who loved to cook found a friend who loved her for her and she was happy. Or even when Fatima didn’t care what any had to say about her muscles because she loved herself and loved why she had those muscles. The teens describes in this book were dangerously strong as they challenged everything that they were taught to believe. They didn’t follow society’s standards which is truly a beautiful thing. From this book I learned teenagers are scared, vulnerable and just try to fit in. But I also learned that they’re smart, powerful and they can fight back
What does this awareness inspire you to do?
I already know about a teenager’s life being hard. After all, I am one. But what I didn’t know is that it’s every teen that faces the same problems and choices that I do. I realized that every teenager goes trough a lot of difficult things and when I realized this, I made a promise to myself that I would never judge anyone based on their appearances. I promised myself I wouldn’t degrade anyone. I wouldn’t call anyone names. I would try to be kinder, try to make people feel better about themselves. I would try to help people be more accepting of themselves, teach them to love themselves and not be ashamed of who they are, or something they can’t change. If I could, I would dive into the book and tell Anita that she’s an excellent basketball player, or I would tell the Fatima to not listen to anyone and to follow her dreams, like she was already doing. Reading this book has taught me that even smiling at someone could make their day infinity better. The book inspired me to be a better person, and that is what I am going to do. Become someone better and kinder than who I am now.
Yashasvi Mehta
What did the story make you aware of?
I had never before read a book written for teenagers, featuring their true stories of courage, hope, emotions, fear and love.
These 20 stories opened my eyes to the real world, a world very different from my protected, secure, happy cocoon. I realized that many children my age were going through so many problems in different corners of the country. Some had to fight religion- based issues, others had to face violence, heartbreak and abuse, still others were bullied for being fat, ugly or uncool. Some had seen death so closely that it brought tears to my eyes and made me realise the value of our loved ones.
Stories like ‘See You Shortly’ and ‘In the Shadow of Greatness’ taught me that nothing is impossible if you believe in yourself. ‘Santa’s not so Little Helper’ was a hilarious story that showed that essays need not be boring, serious or mundane. ‘Like Father, Like Son’ sent shivers down my spine and gave me a taste of the paranormal. Reading ‘I am Old and Tired Now’ put me in a lion’s shoes and I felt the emotions of an animal which longed for peace as much as man did. ‘Susu’ was great fun to read and still brings a naughty smile on my face and has now become a hit word in my friend circle! ‘Teenagers are Pack Animals’ made me see us teenagers from a teacher’s viewpoint and forced me to ask myself, ‘Are we really pack animals?’
In all, this book was an insight into how the world looks at us and how we look at the world and how we could contribute greatly to make it a better place to live.
We congratulate Paro Anand on achieving this great milestone!
Order your copy of ‘Like Smoke’ here now!
5 Priceless Things We Learn from Ruskin Bond’s Books
Ruskin Bond’s stories have never failed to thrill us and leave us feeling warm inside every time we read one. Our growing up years would not have remained the same had it not been for Bond’s beautiful characters and anecdotes that immediately take us back to the best years of our lives.
But through his enchanting stories of childhood, friendship, family, love and nature, we unknowingly learn a few precious things which, perhaps, none of our school books could have ever taught us.
Here are 5 times Ruskin Bond quietly told us something invaluable about life and the world that will stay with us forever.
When he told us why we should aim for excellence and not settle for being a mediocre “anybody”.
When he told us that nature is our best home.
When he showed us that the will to do something is greater than any obstacle.
When he pointed out the perils of disturbing nature.
When he showed us that the beauty of life lies in its changes, like the changing seasons.
Share with us what you have learned from Ruskin Bond’s delightful stories on the occasion of Teachers’ Day!
Rusty’s New Room: ‘The Room on the Roof’ — An Excerpt
‘The Room on the Roof’, by Ruskin Bond, is the celebrated writer’s first venture into literature. The heart-warming story of Rusty, a seventeen-year-old orphaned Anglo-Indian boy, looking for a ‘home’ in the charming hills of Dehradun has lived on through decades.
Here is an excerpt from the book on Rusty’s search for a corner he can call his own.
Rusty had never slept well in his guardian’s house, because he had never been tired enough; also his imagination would disturb him. And, since running away, he had slept badly, because he had been cold and hungry. But in Somi’s house he felt safe and a little happy, and slept; he slept the remainder of the day and through the night.
In the morning Somi tipped Rusty out of bed and dragged him to the water tank. Rusty watched Somi strip and stand under the jet of tap water, and shuddered at the prospect of having to the same.
Before removing his shirt, Rusty looked around in embarrassment; no one paid much attention to him, though one of the ayahs, the girl with the bangles, gave him a sly smile; he looked away from the women, threw his shirt on a bush and advanced cautiously to the bathing place.
Somi pulled him under the tap. The water was icy-cold and Rusty gasped with the shock. As soon as he was wet, he sprang off the platform, much to the amusement of Somi and the ayahs.
There was no towel with which to dry himself; he stood on the grass, shivering with cold, wondering whether he should dash back to the house or shiver in the open until the sun dried him. But the girl with the bangles was beside him holding a towel; her eyes were full of mockery, but her smile was friendly.
At the midday meal, which consisted of curry and curd and chapattis, Rusty met Somi’s mother, and liked her.
She was a woman of about thirty-five; she had a few grey hairs at the temples, and her skin—unlike Somi’s—was rough and dry. She dressed simply, in a plain white sari. Her life had been difficult. After the partition of the country, when hate made religion its own, Somi’s family had to leave their home in the Punjab and trek southwards; they had walked hundreds of miles and the mother had carried Somi, who was then six, on her back. Life in India had to be started again, right from the beginning, for they had lost most of their property: the father found work in Delhi, the sisters were married off, and Somi and his mother settled down in Dehra, where the boy attended school.
The mother said: ‘Mister Rusty, you must give Somi a few lessons in spelling and arithmetic. Always, he comes last in class.’
‘Oh, that’s good!’ exclaimed Somi. ‘We’ll have fun, Rusty!’ Then he thumped the table. ‘I have an idea! I know, I think I have a job for you! Remember Kishen, the boy we passed yesterday? Well, his father wants someone to give him private lessons in English.’
‘Teach Kishen?’
‘Yes, it will be easy. I’ll go and see Mr Kapoor and tell him I’ve found a professor of English or something like that, and then you can come and see him. Brother, it is a first-class idea, you are going to be a teacher!’
Rusty felt very dubious about the proposal; he was not sure he could teach English or anything else to the wilful son of a rich man; but he was not in a position to pick and choose. Somi mounted his bicycle and rode off to see Mr Kapoor to secure for Rusty the post of Professor of English. When he returned he seemed pleased with himself, and Rusty’s heart sank with the knowledge that he had got a job.
‘You are to come and see him this evening,’ announced Somi, ‘he will tell you all about it. They want a teacher for Kishen, especially if they don’t have to pay.’ ‘What kind of a job without pay?’ complained Rusty.
‘No pay,’ said Somi, ‘but everything else. Food—and no cooking is better than Punjabi cooking; water—’
‘I should hope so,’ said Rusty.
‘And a room, sir!’ ‘Oh, even a room,’ said Rusty ungratefully, ‘that will be nice.’
‘Anyway,’ said Somi, ‘come and see him, you don’t have to accept.’.
Find out more about Rusty and his delightful adventures today!
When the Journey Began: ‘India at 70’ — An Excerpt
In 2017, India’s spacecraft Mangalyaan is orbiting Mars, satellites are regularly sent into space, the economy is growing rapidly and India’s diverse art and culture is appreciated globally. And, most importantly, India is the largest democracy in the world.
The story of India as an independent nation began seventy years ago, in 1947, when the country gained independence after almost 200 years of British rule. For the first time, India became a united political entity, a nation with clearly defined boundaries. What type of country would the new India be? Would it remain united and strong?
At this time, the territory known as India consisted of eleven British provinces and some additional areas directly under British rule as well as 565 Indian states (also called princely states) where the British had overall control. The Muslim League, led by Muhammad Ali Jinnah, wanted a separate state of Pakistan, and finally it was decided that this demand would be granted. On 14 and 15 August 1947, two new nations were created, but the boundary lines between them were known only on 17 August. Pakistan was in two parts; West Pakistan was formed in the western half of Punjab while East Pakistan was created from the province of Bengal. As the lines for dividing the area were drawn on a map, districts, canals and even villages were divided.
This partition of one country into two created many problems. In the west, 10 million migrated across the new borders, and as anger arose between Muslims on one side and Hindus and Sikhs on the other, about 1 million were killed. There were other issues too, as the entire administration and all its possessions—including tables, chairs, books, musical instruments, cars, pencils and pens as well as the army, police, railways, postal services, money and other items—had to be divided.
The process of integrating the different states to form one India began before Independence. While some of the states were in the region of Pakistan, 554 states were in Indian territory. These states had different kinds of rulers. Some controlled huge areas and had vast quantities of wealth, land, buildings, money, gold, jewels, cars and elephants; others had small territories of just a few square kilometres. There were actually 425 small states. By 31 July, two types of agreements had been worked out for the Indian states to sign, by which they agreed to join India and give up some of their powers. At the time of Independence, the Constitution of India was being prepared. A constitution consists of the rules and ideas according to which a nation is governed. The Constituent Assembly, a group of people who would discuss and write India’s constitution, first met on 9 December 1946. The Constitution was ready by the end of 1949, after which India became a republic in 1950. Two years later, the first elections were held and India’s Parliament began to function. Thus, though India’s complex history dates back to the Stone Age, the year 1947 brought in great change.
This is an excerpt from the introductory chapter of Roshen Dalal’s ‘India at 70’. Get your copy here today!
India: 70 Years of Independence
By Roshen Dalal
India celebrates 70 years of independence on 15 August, and we may wonder why this date is so important. A simple answer is that on this date in 1947, India gained freedom from almost 200 years of British rule. But further questions follow. What was wrong with British rule? How was it different from that of earlier invaders and settlers? Through the narrow passes and river valleys in the high mountains, India had seen many invasions from ancient times. Darius I (522-486 BCE)of Persia (Iran) included part of north-west India in his territories. Alexander, the Macedonian conquerer, too, came to the north-west in 336 BCE, but could not stay long. The Bactrian Greeks (from 200 BCE), the Parthians (1st century CE), Kushanas (1st to 3rd centuries CE), Indo-Sasanians (3rd -4th centuries CE), and Hunas (5th century CE), and were among other invaders. All of them set up kingdoms for short periods of time, and many were absorbed into Indian society. Later there were invasions from Ghazni and Ghur in the region of present Afghanistan, which led to the rule of the sultans. The sultans defended India against the invasions of the Mongols. The Mughal dynasty was then founded by Babur in 1526, who originated in the small kingdom of Farghana in Central Asia. There were other dynasties such as the Ahoms, who invaded the north-east of today’s India. But most of these who were once invaders, ruled parts of India much like other kings of the country. They collected and spent taxes here, constructed buildings, provided justice, and encouraged the arts. British rule was different, in that they used India as a source for money and raw materials that were transmitted to their own country. Dadabhai Naoroji (1825-1917), an Indian political leader and the first Asian to become a member of Parliament in Britain, explained this as ‘the drain of wealth’, in his book Poverty and and Un-British Rule in India. He estimated that the British were taking money away from India at the rate of 30,000,000 to 40,000,000 pounds a year. Railways had been constructed, but the money earned from them belonged to Britain. In addition, railways were used to transport raw materials, which were later sent out of India. It seemed as if there were some good points, as law and order were maintained, but Naoroji said that under the British, ‘the Indian starves in peace and perishes in peace, with law and order’. Artisans lost their livelihood. There was inequality, as only the British were given high posts. India was a ‘colony’ of Britain, but neither India nor Britain were unique. Across the world, other European nations, the including France, Portugal and Germany, had their own colonies, and similarly exploited those they colonized.
It was a long struggle to gain freedom from the British. The Revolt of 1857 was the first widespread expression of protest. After the founding of the Indian National Congress in 1885, the movement became more organized, and finally, though many groups had participated, it was Mahatama Gandhi who led India to freedom through satyagraha, his policy of peaceful protest, combining non-violence and truth. There were around 565 Indian states, which the British did not directly rule, though they controlled them through their agents. Many people in these states also participated in the freedom movement.
These peaceful protests brought about gradual changes, and an involvement of Indians in the government in the British provinces.
India became free at one minute past midnight on the of 14th August, that is, the first minute of the 15th. Though many celebrated and rejoiced, some, like Mahatma Gandhi, were sad–firstly because two countries of India and Pakistan were created instead of one, and secondly because there were riots and killings between Hindus and Sikhs on one side, and Muslims on the other.
But the new country of India overcame these problems. With the adoption of the Constitution on 26 January 1950, India became fully independent. It became a democracy, a Republic with two houses of Parliament, the Lok Sabha and the Rajya Sabha, headed by the president, with real power in the hands of the prime minister, the other ministers, and Parliament.
What we must celebrate after 70 years, is that this democracy is still functioning. As I see it, this has been India’s greatest achievement. Pakistan gained independence at the same time as India, but could not provide a stable government. Many more countries gained Independence after India, both in Asia and Africa. Most of them have faced problems, in governance and otherwise.
As we celebrate India’s freedom, we must guard and protect its greatest treasure–that of being a democracy, with a Constitution that guarantees certain freedoms, and provides equal rights to people of all communities, castes and religions.