There is a widespread misapprehension that Hindi is the national language of India. Although this misapprehension, the question is whether a national language is politically feasible for a country like India.
The Siddis first arrived in India in 628 AD. Others followed as Arab slaves and soldiers during the Islamic invasions of India in the 8th century...
They not only carried the legacy of colonial dining in Calcutta, but appropriated the culture of colonial dining in a manner such that in today’s restaurant spaces they are still apparent.
Naldera’s lasting contribution to world history, then, remains the Indian crows in Australia.
Mahomed’s coffee house did not sell any coffee whatsoever. It was the prototype of a takeaway and home-delivery restaurant.
I was born in one of the most romantic places in the world—Darjeeling—although I have only confused impressions of its beauty, and of the gaiety of life there...
Rudyard Kipling sent the details of the case to Arthur Conan Doyle...the case was passed on instead to Agatha Christie.
I came home on the first of May. The train pulled into Sealdah station fifteen minutes after its scheduled arrival time, at 10:45 AM. Platform number 9B was a petri dish full of the city’s live culture of people, teeming, bustling, and sweating, profusely sweating.
The clouds leak constantly. I imagine someone doing laundry up in the sky, trying to wash dark smudges from the rain clouds, wringing them dry into white fluff once again. The clouds have no shame. They weep constantly, not caring that all eyes are turned towards them.
Tourist’s camel ride– With a promise to find the location for shooting Of Chandani… I had imagined the throes of love with an older man at the age of fifteen, The film had given me gooseflesh. The bonfire and kalbelia dance I was ready.
The first potatoes, and apples, were introduced in the Himalayas, in the hill station of Mussoorie, in the 1820s. Captain Frederick Young, who was the founder of the founder of the Sirmoor Battalion (The Sirmoor Rifles), became the architect of the first potato and tea plantations in the Himalayas.
Today, while they show you the colour of Jhelum —bathed in red do not let them forget The Lidder’s water— splashed with blood in ‘89 Turning lives to stone Peeling the skin of kith and kin reminding them—you never were our own The foundation of the dry blood coating the streets of Srinagar remains of Lassa Kaul.
Can you ever imagine your bedroom in India and your kitchen in Myanmar. Isn’t it bizarre and wouldn’t it be strange to know that your home is divided not between family members or even relatives but between two nations? As bizarre as it sounds they exists!
Can one walk into a sleepy town in the early hours of morning and feel like one has entered a novel? A bodily jerk on the electric rickshaw has thrown one into a story and shaken away all vestiges of daily life, that have to be reclaimed as phone chargers and bills in handbags. One’s erstwhile chronicles will find no co-ordinates in the fictional life of this small, nondescript border town in rural Bengal.
In that first photo, you have a bouffant updo and bangs “The Sadhna cut was all the rage” Squarish face, with just a hint of the heaviness that will come later. Large eyes and a direct gaze. Not a hint of a smile. Even for this, the biye-er chhobi.
There are whole herds of nilgai which have made the Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) campus their home. Everyone who lives there must have seen a nilgai at least once, but no one knows much about them. Such a nilgai could be seen sunning itself outside the library or chewing cud behind a bristly bush.
It would not be wrong to say that today a spectre is haunting India, the spectre of Rohith Vemula. What Rohith was unable to do in life, his spectre has come to do in death. It haunts honourable ministers and prime minister alike; it is the rallying point around which gathers and revolves the nationwide student’s movement of 2016. His return after death as a symbol of the caste discrimination millions of Indians suffer daily has come to haunt the dreams of the powerful.
A thatched roof with muted light seeping through what appeared to be stained glass had caught our attention. Stained glass in a village with barely any sign of urbanisation, in the red laterite district of Birbhum, not one of the more affluent and developed districts of the state?
While M.S. Golwalkar is the better known ideologue of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh or RSS, Dr. B.S. Moonje was no less influential in the formation of the ethos of militant Hindu nationalism. A brilliant ophthalmologist who discovered a new way of treating cataract, he was the head of the Hindu Mahasabha from 1927 to 1937, when he was succeeded by V.D. Savarkar. He was a close friend and mentor of Hegdewar as well. After attending the Second Round Table Conference in England in 1931
Twenty two houses for every village and an endless paddy field. We glide over the iron tracks, across the valley, watching lights flicker from the distant horizon. Night brings moon, spreads its wings over the vast fields. An ancient snake screams out its disgust. Leaves only smoke when its gone.
Such an imagined land might as well be the abode of idle lotus eaters, or the dwelling place of ferocious sexual fiends, with a propensity for red meat with their alcohol, and a fervent dedication to various modes of family planning. Sandwiched between the realms of fanciful imagination and mundane reality, the Jawaharlal Nehru University exists almost proverbially, like the folk song, it never was new, and it never gets old.