"How the telegraph system was introduced in India"

The humble telegram will be laid to rest on July 15th this year, ending a saga that began in 1839. 

“The story of the telegraph in India” by Charles C. Adley, published in the year 1866, provides in the first chapter a narration of the sequence of events that led to the commissioning of the telegraph system in India. It highlights the splendid efforts and marshalling of resources by the British officers in India to achieve the planned link-up in very short time. 

The history of the Telegraph in India is briefly recorded.  

In May, 1839, Dr. William Brooke O'Shaughnessy erected an experimental line of wire, twenty-one miles in length, in the vicinity of Calcutta. The wire was suspended upon bamboo poles, and on the completion of the experiments, which were eminently successful, it was taken down and the results published. At the same time, the importance of the introduction of the telegraph into India was strongly urged.  

On the 26th of September, 1849, the Court of Directors of the late Honourable the East India Company referred to the foregoing experiments, and directed the attention of the Government of India to the advisability and importance of establishing a system of telegraphs throughout that empire. 

About the same time, others were occupying their minds with the subject, and, preparatory to propounding a definite scheme, two long pieces of gutta-percha covered copper wire were despatched experimentally to India. One of these was vulcanised, the other not. The object was to ascertain if wire, so protected, would withstand the ravages of the white ants, the great enemies to underground operations in that country, for at that period, the merit of the overground or underground system was a debated and unsettled question in Europe. 

The experiment was perfectly successful, and in September, 1850, an elaborate communication was addressed to the Chairman of the Court of Directors of the late Honourable the East India Company, wherein proposals were submitted for the establishment of a comprehensive system of political and mercantile lines throughout India, and some pains were taken to show the advantages that would accrue to the Government and the public therefrom. The report also comprised the details of a scheme for establishing telegraphic intercourse between England and India vid the Persian Gulf. In reply, it was stated that the subject was then under the consideration of the Government. 

The accompanying map, which is an exact copy of the general plan drawn out more than fifteen years ago, will exhibit a sketch view of these projects, and it is remarkable how closely the plans then devised assimilate with what have been subsequently carried out at the present time. 

Two months later, reports were submitted to the Government in India by the late Colonel Forbes and Dr- O'Shaughnessy upon the subject, and, after some discussion upon the overground and underground systems, it was decided that an experimental line should be constructed of thirty miles in length, partly overground and partly subterranean. 

This line was commenced in October, 1851, and opened in December following. It was then extended underground to Kedjeree eighty-two miles; and in March, 1852, the line from Calcutta to the sea was opened for official and public correspondence. Of this line, sixty-nine miles were overground and eleven subterranean, and the mean average cost was 59l 8s. 1d. per mile. The wire used consisted of pieces of iron rod 3/8 in. diameter, 13 ft. 6 in. long, welded together, and weighing 17-1/2 cwt. to the mile. 

In the overground portion the rod was placed in a notch cut in the top of bamboo poles 15 ft. high, and placed 200 ft. apart, being strengthened at every furlong by stout sal or iron wood posts, to which the rod was clamped. The underground portion was coated with layers of Madras cloth saturated with melted pitch mixed with tar and then placed in a trench 2 ft. deep, "laid in a row of roofing tiles half filled with a melted mixture of three parts dry sand and one part resin by weight, and when laid the whole was then filled up with the same melted mixture." The trench was then filled in and rammed down in the usual way. 

At the river crossings, which were about a mile wide, various plans were tried, viz., 1. A copper wire insulated with wax and tape. 2. An iron wire rope. 3. A gutta-percha covered copper wire undefended. 4. Gutta-percha covered wire similar to that first laid between Dover and Cape Grisnez; and 5. A guttapercha covered copper wire secured in the angles of a chain cable. The first four plans were soon destroyed by the grapnels of native vessels, while the last proved successful. 

The working of this experimental line was highly satisfactory, and the returns during the first three months of opening were equivalent to a dividend of five per cent, on the outlay, after deducting the working expenses.  

These results having been duly reported on the 14th of April, 1852, Lord Dalhousie, then Governor-General of India, adopted measures for constructing an extensive series of lines between Calcutta, Bombay, Madras, and Peshawar, and on the 3rd of May, Dr. O'Shaughnessy was despatched to England on the subject. Before his arrival in London, on the 20th of June, the proposition of the Governor-General had been acceded to by the Court of Directors and Board of Control, and on the 1st of August, the contracts were entered into for the supply of 5600 miles of wire (No. 1, B. W. G.) and other materials in proportion. 

These materials were manufactured and despatched to India with the utmost alacrity, and on the 24th of March, 1854, a temporary flying line of telegraph was opened between Calcutta and Agra, 796 miles, and the connexion between Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay was completed by a similar temporary line by the 1st of January, 1855. On the 1st of February following, or within two years and a half of the commencement of the undertaking, these lines, amounting to 3544 miles, were opened to the public. 

The construction of these lines was effected in two stages. 1. The erection of a temporary flying line. 2. The strengthening and insulating the flying line. The first of these operations was to be carried out with the utmost speed, the second at leisure. There was also a third stage proposed in the manual of instructions, which was to have consisted of a permanent double line, but it was never carried out, owing, it was stated, to "insuperable practical objections." 

The main object to be accomplished in constructing the temporary flying line was to get up a line in any manner whatsoever with the greatest possible rapidity. This was effected by using bamboos, or any form of cheap temporary wooden support available in the district. These poles with a groove cut in the top for the wire to rest in, were erected along the Grand Trunk Road, 50 ft. apart and 3 ft. in the ground. They were put up with remarkable celerity, an order having been previously issued, while the material was being prepared in England, to every magistrate to have the poles set up in the manner described by a fixed date, along such part of the Trunk Road as passed through his jurisdiction. By this means, an enormous existing establishment of Road inspectors, sub-conductors, police, and coolies were brought into immediate action, and on commencing to run out the wire in November, 1853, the poles were erected throughout the country. 

To further expedite matters, all the powerful resources of the Government were brought into play. The bullock train establishments, inland river steamers, commissariat, and public works departments throughout the country, were more or less placed at the disposal of the telegraph, and the result was as already narrated. 

The lines were completed with such wonderful celerity that even Europe re-echoed with astonishment. The most noble the Governor-General of India was elated; ambition was appeased; another of the many brilliant visions of a glorious rule was realised; another achievement was added to the long roll of beneficent conquests which history would twine with lustre round his name; honours and rewards were liberally showered around, and the Telegraph was inaugurated amid the joyous congratulations of rulers and the triumphant paeans of an empire. 

Rubber chappals

My primary school (yes, the one I went to decades back) required me to wear shoes, but the higher secondary school that I joined later had no such requirement. The school uniform consisted of white pyjamas and kurtha and I could complement these with a pair of rubber chappals.

A pair of these chappals bought at Bata would cost Rs 8 , and if this ate too deep into the family budget, a pair could be bought from a platform vendor for less than Rs 5 a pair. The low price wasn’t the only reason. We simply did not feel the need for any other type of footwear. True, they could be a nuisance in rainy weather and splash muddy water on to one’s own clothes or on those of the person walking behind you, but these were minor inconveniences accepted without too much thought.

Entire batches of students have graduated from such venerable institutions such as IIT with a record of using no other type of footwear. In fact, rubber chappals came to be associated with intellectuals.

While I used to know them only as rubber chappals, it looks like they are referred to as flip flops (probably American).

Recently, I came across this piece in Slate magazine, which criticises the flip-flop and finds several faults with it.

The crux of the flip-flop problem, for me, lies in the decoupling of footwear from foot with each step—and the attendant decoupling of the wearer’s behavior from the social contract. Extended flip-flop use seems to transport people across some sort of etiquette Rubicon where the distinction between public and private, inside and outside, shod and barefoot, breaks down entirely. I’ve witnessed flip-flop wearers on the New York City subway slip their “shoes” off altogether and cross their feet on the train-car floor with a contented sigh, as though they were already home and kicking back in front of a DVR’d Cheers marathon. We would all look askance at a person who removed his socks and sneakers on the train before ostentatiously propping his naked dogs in plain sight. Why do people get a break just because they happen to be wearing footgear that takes them 90 percent of the way there?

My final line of argument against flip-flops is a more nebulous one, having to do with their laziness and lack of character as footwear. Because of the ease with which they’re put on and removed—along, perhaps, with their generic ubiquity—flip-flops connote a sort of half-dressed slatternliness, a sense that the wearer has forgotten to do anything at all with his or her body from the ankles down.

Fellow must be one of those snooty types who needs to make a fashion statement with his footwear. Ignore him.

The Dak journey

How did people travel long distances in India before the advent of the train? Native Indians seldom needed to move beyond the boundaries of their own village or the adjoining ones and would spend their entire lifetime within these confines. We have heard about Indian pilgrims travelling from distant parts of India to holy sites such as Varanasi or Haridwar. Such journeys must have been on foot and must have taken years. It was possible that no one who undertook such a journey every came back.

The British civil and military servants in the 18th and early 19th century needed to move long distances on land as part of the administrative work. How did they travel? They used the dak.

The Asiatic Journal and Monthly Register for British and Foreign India, China and Australasia, published in 1833 carries, on page 181, this detailed and vivid description of the dak journey.

In a dak journey, the traveller must apply to the postmaster of the place of his residence to furnish him with relays of bearers to a given point, a preliminary which is called "laying the dak" the time of starting is specified, and the different places at which it may be expedient to rest. Three or four days' notice is usually required to enable the dak-master to apprise the public functionaries of the different villages of the demand for bearers: the traveller must be provided with his own palanquin, and his own banghies (boxes), ropes, and bamboos.

Will it be necessary, in these enlightened times, to describe a palanquin? An oblong chest will convey the truest idea which can be given of this conveyance; the walls are of double canvas, painted and varnished on the outside, and lined within with chintz or silk; it is furnished on either side with sliding wooden doors, fitted into grooves, and when unclosed disappearing between the canvas walls; the roof projects about an inch all round, and is sometimes double, to keep off the heat of the sun. In front, there are two small windows furnished with blinds, and beneath them run a shelf and a shallow drawer. The bottom is made of split cane interwoven like that of a chair, and having a mattrass, a bolster, and pillow covered either with leather or phintz: some are also supplied with a moveable support for the back, in case the traveller should prefer sitting upright to reclining at full length. The poles jet out at each end near the top; they are slightly curved, and each is long enough to rest upon the shoulders of two men, who stand one on each side, shifting their shoulders as they run along. Could the palanquin be constructed to swing upon springs, no conveyance would be more easy and agreeable; but mechanical art has made little progress in India; no method has yet been struck out to prevent the vehicle from jolting. It is said that the pendulous motion, which would be the least unpleasant to the traveller, would distress the bearers; but when the makers shall be men of science, this difficulty will vanish.

The preparations for a dak journey are simple. The necessary baggage is packed into banghies, which are sometimes square tin boxes of a particular size, fitted for the mode of conveyance with conical tops; at others, round covered baskets sewed up in painted canvas. These are slung with ropes to each end of a bamboo, which is carried across a man's shoulder, two banghie-bearers being usually attached to the dak. A desk may be placed upon the shelf before-mentioned, and other small packages stowed in the palanquin, which should be supplied with biscuits, a tumbler, a bottle of wine or brandy, and a serai (a long-necked porous jar) of water wrapped in a wet cloth, which may be tied to one of the poles outside. Eight men attend to carry the palanquin, who relieve each other by turns, the four off duty running by the side of the vehicle. At night, two mussaulchees (torch-bearers) are added. These men are all Hindoos, and belong to one of the poorest, though not the lowest castes; they bring with them their cloths, loias (drinking-vessels), and provision for a meal, which they pack upon the top of the palanquin, and retaining a very scanty portion of drapery upon their persons, present an exceedingly grotesque appearance. When all is ready, they take up their burden and setoff at a round pace, going, when the road is good, at the rate of from three miles and a-half to four miles an hour.

The stages vary from ten to fourteen miles, and a change of bearers is often effected in the midst of a wide plain. The relay, which is generally in waiting for some time, kindle a fire, group themselves around it, and beguile the interval with smoking or sleeping. When drawing near to the appointed spot, the traveller is made aware of the circumstance by the shouts of his own people, who exclaim, in loud but musical accents, "dak wallah, dak wallah, tiar hi?" (dak men or fellows, are you ready ?). The welcome response is joyfully received, and in a few minutes more the palanquin is put down amid the cries of "Ram! Ram !"* an expression which, when thus used, conveys both salutation and thankfulness. The tired traveller will often echo the " Ram! Ram!" of his weary bearers, who, if they have received the customary buxies (present) of an eight anna piece, take leave with shouts of "salaam, Saib.

" In preparing for a dak journey, care should be taken to secure a halt of eight or twelve hours, at stated distances, certainly not exceeding a hundred miles, while a lady will find it expedient to rest after she has traversed fifty or sixty. On the great road, from Calcutta to Cawnpore, there are govemment-bungaJows at the end of every stage, built purposely for the accommodation of travellers; but on other routes, they must depend upon the hospitality of individuals. It can always be previously ascertained when and where it may be advisable to rest, and notices to the persons whose houses lie in the road can be conveyed at the time that the bearers are summoned, though in no instance would a dak traveller be refused admittance, and it is only necessary to go up to the gate and ask for shelter.

In the hot season, persons who brave the heat of the day, in a palanquin, venture at the risk of their lives: they should always take care to be housed by twelve o'clock. Not a few, who have unadvisedly set out upon a long journey without the necessary precaution of breaking it by remaining under some friendly roof during the sultry hours, have been found dead in their palanquins, and others have escaped with very severe fevers. In the cold weather, it is more agreeable to travel by day, the nights being very piercing. As the doors can only be partially open until after sunset, very little of the country is to be seen from a palanquin; however, the eye may still find amusement in contemplating the passing objects, and, particularly in Bengal, the gambols of the monkeys crashing amid the boughs of the trees above, and the fire-flies irradiating the leaves of whole groves, shooting in and out in coruscations of emerald light, afford gratification to those who are willing to be amused.

A journey by dak is the only rapid method of travelling which has yet been devised in India, and the rate, compared with that in European countries, is slow indeed. It is also very expensive if the distance be long, the charge made by the postmaster being a shilling per mile. There is also a demand for a deposit, under the name of demurrage, which the traveller forfeits should he detain the bearers in places not specified in the route. The dak traveller experiences considerable inconvenience in being deprived of the attendance of his own servants, who must follow in a much more tedious manner. While actually upon the road, the want of domestics is not felt, the bearers being particularly attentive to the comforts of the traveller: even persons totally unacquainted with Hindoostanee may trust themselves to a long journey, secure that the different sets of natives, who may be employed to carry them, will endeavour, with the most earnest zeal, to comprehend and obey their commands. On one occasion, a lady, who did not know ten words of the language, obtained a very comfortable breakfast by pointing to a bottle of tea which she had with her in the palanquin, and making the bearers understand that she wished to have it heated. They kindled a fire, warmed the tea in an earthen pipkin purchased for the purpose, and catching a goat presented her with a tumbler-full of its milk.

In most cases where complaints are made of the bearers, the fault, upon investigation, will be found to lie with the traveller. Raw young men, and sometimes even those who have not the excuse of youth and inexperience, are but too apt to amuse themselves by playing tricks with, or beating, their luckless bearers, who are not infrequently treated like beasts of burthen. They have it in their power to retaliate, and when provoked to excess, punish the offender, by putting the palanquin down, and making off to the jungles. A three or four hours' detention upon the road, perhaps under a burning sun, is the consequence, and it would require a very vivid imagination to conceive a more disagreeable situation, especially to a person wholly unacquainted with the country, and the means of procuring a new set of bearers to carry him on. The chance of falling in with a European is very small indeed, and few of the passers-by would consider it to be their duty to offer their assistance. Natives do not trouble themselves about the affairs of strangers, and they would consider it to be the will of heaven that a Saib should lie upon the road, and would not think of interfering unless especially called upon to do so. As there is only one particular caste who will carry burthens upon their shoulders, the palanquin would remain in a quiescent state for ever, before men who were not bearers by birth and profession would lift it from the ground: they would ejaculate upon being hailed, and pass on, confining their services to the report of the affair to the cuiwal or jemadar of a neighbouring village, who would send bearers if they could be procured, which is not always the case under several hours' notice.

It happened to the writer that, upon a dak journey, the bhangie ropes broke, and were useless. The bhangie-bearers could not be prevailed upon to carry the boxes on their heads, and at every stage a considerable delay took place in procuring coolies to convey a burthen rejected by persons belonging to a different class. Sirdar-bearers, chuprassies, etc. will carry a guttrie, or bundle, but will upon no account submit to the disgrace of a box. They sometimes insist upon taking out a crape or gauze dress, and wrapping it in a towel, to the utter destruction of its furbelows; and many are the lively discussions which occur between them and the ayah upon these occasions.

But to return to the discomforts of a dak journey. Policy as well as humanity should teach Europeans to treat the natives of India with kindness; they have frequently the power (though, to their credit be it spoken, they rarely avail themselves of it) of avenging their injuries, and the advantages of a good name can in no country be of higher value. The bhote tttcha Saib, or the bhote utcha Bebee, who have procured the commendations of the natives around them, will find their fame very widely extended. They are secure of meeting respect and attention wheresoever they may go, while those of a contrary character are equally certain of being shunned by all who are not actually compelled to render them unwilling service. The repose obtained in a palanquin is liable to many interruptions; at the end of each stage there is the clamour for busies, and when the vehicle gets into the hands of a set of bearers who are either ill-matched in size, or who do not step out well together, the jolting is tremendous.

The country during the rainy season is intersected by nullahs; every channel of the ravines is converted into a rapid river, and the greater number being unfordable, they must be crossed in boats. Ferries are established upon the principal thoroughfares, and there is usually a group of natives assembled on the bank. Time does not appear to be of the slightest value to the people of Hindoostan; they will wait for days together at an unfrequented ghaut for the chance of getting a free passage, in a boat engaged by some more wealthy traveller, rather than pay the few pice demanded for their transport. The instant the palanquin is safely lodged in the boat, the crowd upon the bank embark, and if the owner should be so rash as to ask for his fee, the intruders enquire with great indignation if he be not satisfied with the hurra buxies (great present) he has already received, declaring to a man that, after the Saib's extraordinary liberality, they will give him nothing: the boat belonged to the Saib, to whom their thanks are due. Apparently, this reasoning is conclusive; at least the boatman takes nothing by his motion.

It is only when night spreads its mysterious spell over the scene, that an Indian landscape, during the dry weather, can captivate the eye, however luxuriant the foliage may be, and that never appears to be scorched by the sun. However romantic the temples, when springing from an arid soil, more than half their charm is lost; but starlight or moonlight can invest it with a divine aspect: the barren sands become soft and silvery; and the parched desert, cool and refreshed, cheats the vision with a semblance of verdure. To a dak traveller, the changes produced by the approach of night are particularly striking: his eyes have been wearied for many hours with dust and glare, and he hails the first shadows cast by the setting sun with joy. So extraordinary is the illusion, that it would not be difficult to fancy that he was entering upon some new country; some enchanting paradise hitherto undiscovered, whence all unsightly things have been banished, or where they never found a place.

In some of the jungley districts of India, a dak traveller may be surprized by the unwelcome appearanee of a tiger. In this event, the bearers, justly considering^ self-preservation to be the first law of nature, usually betake themselves to flight; leaving their employer to do battle in the best way he can with the monster of the wild: conduct which excites a higher degree of indignation than it merits, since they are certainly more exposed to a sudden spring than the person inside the palanquin, and are also less able to defend themselves. It is much easier to escape without their burthen, and it does appear rather hard that they should be expected to risk their lives in defence of a stranger, who has merely hired them to carry a palanquin.

A dak journey of any very considerable length is seldom performed without the occurrence of some incident, either agreeable or the reverse; detention upon the road is the most common, the bearers, the traveller being to blame. Upon arriving at the end of a stage, if the relay should not be in readiness, there is no alternative but to await its arrival; the old bearers cannot be induced to proceed a step farther; they are fatigued, and it would take them too long a distance from their homes. While the unfortunate traveller, impatient and out of humour, is lamenting over his ill-luck, the people, who have just been released from their duty, are enjoying themselves with great relish. Excepting in the rains, they do not seek a shelter, a tree affords sufficient shade by day, and at night they require no other canopy than the sky. They kindle a fire upon the ground, and while some are cooking or smoking, the remainder fall asleep. The traveller might sleep also were he not tormented by the fear of losing his banghies, which are given up and placed under his care. As there are numbers of petty thieves upon the watch for any stray article which may come across them, he is compelled to keep a sharp look-out after his property, and if the palanquin should remain for some hours upon the ground, there is the danger of an invasion by a rat or a snake.

When a village is the scene of the delay, some amusement may be obtained, especially at night, by a survey of the interiors of the huts. The window-shutters and doors are well-provided with chinks; both are frequently dispensed with, lattices of bamboo supplying their places, and as there is a lamp always burning in the poorest tenement, the whole economy of the apartments is distinctly visible. They are generally, though merely plastered with mud, extremely clean and neatly kept. The furniture is simple and scanty; a chest standing upon four or six feet and clamped with brass, to contain clothes and articles of any value; a charpoy, a mat, and a few brass vessels, frequently composing the whole. Others are of a superior description and have the walls decorated with small looking-glasses and pictures in gilt frames, either miserable designs, miserably executed, of native subjects, or gaudy scripture-prints, such as are still sometimes to be found iiv the cottages of England, and which have found their way to the most distant parts of Hindoostan. In some of these houses may be seen, at a late hour, a venerable old man, with a beard flowing down to his waist, handsomely attired in white muslin, seated upon the floor, and employed in writing with a reed pen upon vellum, by the light of a small chiraug, a moonshee, calculating, perchance, the expenses of the day, or engaged on some more abstruse subject.

At some periods, when there are several persons proceeding up or down the country, at the same time, by dak, two palanquins meet or pass each other on the road. Upon such occasions, it would be supposed that solitary Europeans, even though previously unacquainted, would exchange some friendly greeting, especially if detained for a few minutes in the same place; but even in the wildest districts, English reserve is strictly maintained. Two palanquins may be put down upon a desolate plain, with only a few yards of sand between them ; yet the inmates will keep themselves closely shut up, never enquiring whether they can render any assistance to each other, or offering to share the refreshments they may have in store. It is rarely that they even ask the name of the person with whom they have been placed in such close contact, and brothers long severed might have the opportunity of an interview of an hour's duration, and lose it from too close an adherence to the unsocial pride which is the characteristic of an Englishman.

Property rights- Tanjore, circa 1800

“Historical sketches of the South of India” by Col. Mark Wolks, published in the year 1820 has a chapter on “landed property in India”. On page 176, the author pays a tribute to the well-established system of property rights that prevailed in Tanjore, with the owners showing a complete understanding of the advantages of possession and the security that it conferred.

Passing south to regions somewhat more remote from the first impressions of the northern conquerors, we arrive atcTrichinopoly and Tanjore, sometimes united and sometimes separate: the latter principality containing the town of Combaconum, the ancient capital of the Chola race, one of the oldest Hindoo dynasties of which any traces have hitherto been discovered in these lower regions, and from which the whole coast in later times has taken its name. Tanjore in 1675 fell into the hands of Eccojee, the brother of the celebrated founder of the Mahratta empire. Throughout all its revolutions this country had remained under a Hindoo government, with the exception of the very short period that it was possessed by Mohammed Aly; and it is of no material importance to our present purpose to trace the ancient history of its private landed proprietors, since the whole province continues at this day to exhibit every character that constitutes a highly respectable proprietary right.

I cannot describe the state of landed property in this part of India more forcibly than by adopting the very words of a late report. Without entering on the question of who is proprietor of the soil, I will content myself with stating that immemorial usage has established both in Tanjore and Trichinopoly, that the occupants, whether distinguished by the names of Meerassdar or Mahajanums have the right of selling, bestowing, devising and bequeathing their lands in the manner which to them is most agreeable.

Whether this right was granted originally by the ancient constitution of the country, appears to me not worth considering at the present day. I think it a fortunate circumstance that the right does at present exist, whether it originated in encroachment on the sovereign's right, in a wise and formal abrogation of those rights, or in institutions coeval with the remotest antiquity. It is fortunate that at a moment when we are consulting on the means of establishing the property and welfare of the numerous people of these provinces, we find the lands of the country in the hands of men who feel and understand the full rights and advantages of possession, who have enjoyed them in a degree more or less secure before the British name was known in India, and who, in consequence of them, have rendered populous and fertile the extensive provinces of Tanjore and Trichinopoly. *

The class of proprietors to whom I allude are not to be considered as the actual cultivators of the soil; the far greater mass of them till their lands by the means of hired labourers, or by a class of people termed Pullers, who are of the lowest cast, and who may be considered as the slaves of the soil. The landed property of these provinces is divided and subdivided in every possible degree; there are proprietors of four thousand f acres, of four hundred acres, of forty acres, and of one acre.

I conclude that Trichinopoly is indebted for this advantage to its contiguity to Tanjore — the Mussulman rulers of the former could not, without a revolution involving the loss of the whole revenue, place their husbandmen on a footing materially differing from that of their immediate neighbours.

The occupants and Meerassdars above described are far from being mere nominal proprietors; they have a clear, ample, and unquestioned proprietor's share, amounting, according to the same authority, to the respectable proportion of twenty-seven per cent. of the gross produce, a larger rent than remained to an English proprietor of land who had titles and land-tax to pay, even before the establishment of the income-tax. The report of a most respectable committee on the affairs of Tanjore in 1807, gives a very clear detail of the distribution of property over the whole province, which consists of five thousand eight hundred and seventy-three townships : of this number there are one thousand eight hundred and seven townships, in which one individual holds the whole undivided lands: there are two thousand two hundred and two, of which the property in each is held by several persons having their distinct and separate estates : and one thousand seven hundred and seventy-four, the landed property in which is held in common by all the Meerassdars or proprietors of the village, who contribute labour and receive a share of the crop in the proportion of their respective properties. The same report states that the number of Meerassdars who are Bramins is computed to be 17,149, oOf Soodras, including native Christians, 42,442 Mohammedans, 1,457, total 62,048

The fact of the existence of so considerable a number of Mohammedan proprietors is a curious and conclusive proof of the unrestrained facility of alienating landed property in Tanjore;

The story of Runganadum, the Brahmin from Chittoor.

The first half of the nineteenth century saw thousands of Indian natives being drawn into western style of education. Quite a few schools and colleges had come up by 1840, and the Universities of Calcutta, Bombay and Madras were established in the year 1857. Pursuing higher education required migrating to a city and involved expenses that few could afford. It required one to be convinced of the virtues of western education and to believe in its potential to provide more lucrative means of employment. One such person to make that leap was Runganadum who is described in the book, “ The domestic life, character and customs of the natives of India” by James Kerr, Principal of Hindu College , Calcutta who had earlier had a stint in Madras. This was written in 1865, but the event it describes, perhaps, happened 20 years before that. (I have edited it below to keep it short, but do read the full text by following the link.)

It may be said of the great mass of the natives that we only see them moving around us. With a few only do we become personally acquainted; and that with the outside of their character only, while we remain in a great measure strangers to their social and domestic life.

Of all the Hindoos with whom I have become acquainted in India, perhaps the most interesting is my friend Runganadum, a Brahmin, and a native of Chittoor about thirty miles from Madras. He was introduced to me by Mr. Casamajor, of the Madras Civil Service, a most benevolent and large-hearted man. Mr. Casamajor took a great interest in him, and had the highest opinion of his character and talents.

Runganadum's personal appearance was very much in his favour. He was, for a Hindoo, rather above the middle height, stout, and well made. His complexion differed but little from that of a European well bronzed by a tropical sun. His features were regular and even handsome, his eye bright with intelligence, his forehead one of the finest I have ever seen. The expression of his face was generally serious. He always wore the old Hindoo dress—a white cotton wrapper round his waist and hanging down to his ankles, and a fine muslin scarf thrown loosely over his shoulders.

I knew Runganadum intimately for several years. He read with me at my house, Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations," Locke's "Essay on the Understanding," and Paley's "Natural Theology."* I was astonished to find so little difference between his mind and that of an intelligent European. His mental powers were indeed equal to those of any European of the same age I have ever known, while his amiability, truthfulness and manly honesty were above all praise.

At what I may call our meetings for mutual improvement (for I was a gainer from these meetings as well as Runganadum), at which times the books I have mentioned were diligently read, we often engaged in general conversation after the more serious business of the evening was over. I remember having an interesting conversation with him one evening on the subject of the social condition of his countrymen. He seemed to be convinced that the backward state of his countrymen was mainly owing to a silly reverence for old customs, however absurd they might be. He sometimes spoke on this subject with much earnestness.

As a proof of Runganadum's liberality of mind, I may mention that he did not object to learn by heart, along with the other pupils of the grammar school, the church catechism, and even the creed. He thought it right to conform to the rules of the school. He read also along with the other pupils, Paley's " Evidences of Christianity," and when examined upon it he usually gave a fair and manly answer to all questions, expressing his own candid opinion with temper and modesty. Truly, in some things, this heathen scholar was an example to Christians, such was his liberality of mind, his truthfulness, and humility.

Notwithstanding all his liberality and candour, I never saw much reason to hope that he would renounce Hindooism and become a Christian.* He was well acquainted with the evidences of Christianity, as mere arguments addressed to the understanding, and his mind was in a remarkable degree free from prejudices and open to conviction. Still, he did not evince any decided disposition to change his religion. I can never forget his modest seriousness one day when I spoke to him on the subject. On asking him whether, now that he had read Paley's Evidences, he did not believe in the truth of Christianity, he held down his head in a meek, submissive manner for some moments, and said nothing. His regard for truth would not let him say with his lips what he did not believe in his heart, and he held down his head and said nothing. After some silence, he looked up with rather a sly smile.

The following is an extract from one of his letters, written while a student at the grammar school "I was, during the whole of last week, engaged at the rate of two or three hours a day, in writing an essay on Female Education. It is rather too long. It consists of twenty-eight pages. During the time that I was writing the essay, I was led to consider when would my countrymen learn to see education in its true light, and appreciate it for its own sake, and not pursue it with the unworthy motive of making it a tool for procuring money. I clearly see that the greatest of all benefits that either a European or a native can do for the good of this country, is to disseminate the happy seeds of education. I think it unlikely that the natives will be inclined to enlighten their females by educating them, unless the men themselves are first well educated. In all the civilized countries of Europe, the education of the females was subsequent to that of the males. Hence in this country, too, the education of the males should precede that of the females."

The following letter, which I received from him when absent from Madras, on a visit to his friends at Chittoor, will give some further insight into his character.

"With sincere respect I beg leave to address you the following letter. I am detained here longer than I expected. I am extremely reluctant to stay here, and am anxiously looking forward to my return to Madras, and hope to reach it soon. I am now very fond of algebra. I worked all the problems of quadratic equations in Hutton's Mathematics, with the exception of five, which I find too difficult for me to solve. My esteemed friend, Mr. H. Groves, has lent me his algebra by Euler, and I have worked several questions in it. These questions I have copied in my book of exercises. I am now so far reconciled to the study of the book, that when I meet with a difficult question, instead of laying it aside, as I used to, I sit down with patience and try for an hour or two the right method of working it. I have revised the Sixth Book of Euclid, and I see practically that there is more advantage to be gained in reading the same book often, than in reading several books once.

"The friend of mine whom you saw some months ago in Mylapoor, is now reading with me Smith's Wealth of Nations. By assisting him in that book I derive some benefit, which is this :—When I read a book, I understand the meaning of it, but then I find it difficult to express the ideas of the writer in my language. Now, in reading it with my friend, I am put to the necessity of explaining it to him; which I cannot do to his satisfaction, unless I study the subject myself and think properly before I speak.

The interest which I take in Runganadum, and which I trust may be shared by some others, induces me to say a few words more about him. In 1845, being at that time in Calcutta, I received the following letter from him, written from Chittoor.

“I am extremely happy to communicate to you a piece of news, that it will no doubt give you great pleasure to learn. I am now the chief interpreter of the Supreme Court at Madras—a promotion from the post of a head writer in a court in the provinces, to what is considered the most respectable situation in the Presidency that a native can aspire to. The change has been brought about in a way the most honourable to myself and just and impartial to the community. On the vacation of this post, which happened two months ago, the judges were determined to exercise their patronage in a way calculated to insure and promote the interests of the people—i. e. by offering the situation to the best scholar and the most efficient interpreter they could select by public examination.

The moment I learnt that this post was thrown open for competition, I sent in my application, and offered to stand a trial in Teloogoo, Tamul, Mahratta, Canarese, Hindustanee, Persian, Sanscrit, and English. Some of my European benefactors and teachers were pleased to give me the most favourable testimonials I could expect with respect to my qualifications and character. When the trial came on, it so happened—thanks to Heaven! that my superiority was perfectly decisive; and last Friday I was nominated to the post of chief interpreter. I am now perfectly content, so far as my income is concerned, which, I believe, is close upon Rs. 500 a month; and my present ambition is to prosecute my studies in English literature and the vernacular languages, and to set a good example to my countrymen. I write this in haste, that you may enjoy the news of the good fortune of your ever grateful pupil, Runganadum

It was of Runganadum that Mr. Norton, formerly President of the Madras University, thus spoke, when examined before the parliamentary committee of 1853 :—" He is a young man of very powerful mind, and would have been a distinguished man at either of our universities. He is as remarkable for the strength and powers of his mind in mature life, as I should say almost any European."

Salman Khan's six-pack abs is actually one-pack.

The Deccan Chronicle, with a brilliant piece of investigative journalism, has revealed to its readers that Salman Khan’s six-pack abs is not real.

Salman Khan is no doubt a fit actor. But does he really have a chiseled Greek God-like torso, with deadly muscles showing off in the form of stone slabs? Well, we managed to lay our hands on a working still of Ek Tha Tiger and seems like the animation experts have generously worked their magic on bhai’s abs.

An enormous dose of VFX has been used to make it look as if the actor has sweated it out in the gym day in and day out to expeditiously fasten his “looking like the incredible Hulk” process. We’re not saying that actor doesn’t sweat it out, but see the original still. He is pretty much in shape, but doesn’t have those lethal muscular cuts on his tummy that you can see in the last picture. Once the animator wielded his tools and used the magical mesh, Salman bhai’s already sexy tummy transformed into a piping hot piece of iron hard abs.

Airbrushing, visual effects, the right angles and the right camera profiles…now we know how, most of the times the amazing abs that we see onscreen is nothing but hogwash

However, all is not lost. Salman Khan will be pleased to know that he will still have a huge fan following among babies. In a study, researchers tested the preference of babies for toned (six-pack abs) male bodies and flabby ones.

They found that while 3.5- and 6-month-olds did not show a preference, 9-month-olds actually preferred the unattractive bodies, perhaps because that’s what they’re more familiar with at home (take that, parents whose babies participated in the study!).

The native cunning

"The domestic life, character and the customs of the natives of India", written by James Kerr, Principal of the Hindoo College, Calcutta and published in 1865 contains this passage which provides evidence that ‘corruption’ is an inborn skill among natives of India and has been practised for ages.

A friend of mine, some ten years after his arrival in India, entered upon a new office. At the head of his establishment was a very able native clerk. At first, and for a considerable time, this clerk was most attentive, most obliging, most accommodating. Whatever went wrong was immediately put right by his intervention and assiduous attention. The books and accounts were all kept in the most exact and beautiful order. Every wheel moved with the utmost regularity.

For a good while not the slightest deviation could be detected from the strictest propriety. At length, when the saheb's mind was supposed to be lulled to sleep, a slight inaccuracy slipped into the accounts. A slight overcharge was made, but so slight as almost to elude detection. This went on in an increasing ratio, until it became necessary to check it. And what was the result of such interference? This able clerk, finding that his master kept a vigilant eye upon him, thought fit to change his tactics. He secretly threw impediments in the way. Things no longer went on so smoothly. Quarrels and misunderstandings were frequent among the servants and subordinates. Workmen could no longer be found so easily.

My friend perceived that all charges incurred on his own private account icreased enormously. Palankeen bearers, shoemakers, carpenters, masons and boatmen, one and all demanded higher wages. There could be no doubt that the native clerk had a hand in it. There was a clearly defined object to be gained. The whole scheme was devised with a view to open the saheb's eyes to the fact that he might diminish his private expenses considerably, that he might save himself a world of trouble, and live in peace and comfort, provided he allowed the native clerk to have a little more of his own will. His conduct, you will observe, was founded upon cool calculation. It was founded upon a comprehensive survey of the principles of human nature, and an enlightened appreciation of his own interests.

Circumstances have here developed a type of character of a very peculiar kind. The natives of India find their country occupied by a stronger arm and stronger will than their own. All political situations of direct influence are filled by strangers. What are they to do to win back the power they have lost? They have recourse to woman's art, to cunning. The peculiarity of their position sharpens their faculties, and they acquire a keenness of intellect, of which Europeans have but a faint idea.

Bon Appetit

That human beings have an innate need to observe rituals is well-established. Be it religion, business, Govt, military, judiciary or sports, a certain degree of ritualising takes place.

So many rituals have been associated with food. Saying grace before a meal or uttering some mantra or raising a toast or even wishing each other “Bon appétit” are all rituals designed to lend some solemnity or joy to the mundane process of eating. .

Is it possible that rituals can make food taste better? That’s what some researchers at the University of Minnesota tried to find out. (source)

In a series of experiments conducted along with University of Minnesota marketing professor Kathleen D. Vohs and doctoral candidate Yajin Wang, Michael I. Norton and Francesca Gino found that rituals indeed have the power to make food seem tastier and more valuable. Their research findings are presented in the paper "Rituals Enhance Consumption," forthcoming in Psychological Science.

"We made the rituals deliberately silly," Norton says. "With rituals like wine-tasting and tasting menus, some of the enjoyment is about pageantry and great service. We wanted to strip those factors away and focus on the rituals themselves."

In one experiment, participants were asked to eat a chocolate bar. Half performed an assigned ritual, breaking and unwrapping the bar in a particular way before eating it. The other half just ate the bar unceremoniously. On average, those in the ritual group reported the candy more enjoyable and more flavorful than the non-ritual group.

A follow-up experiment showed that participants in the ritual experience actually thought the chocolate bar was worth more money than those in the non-ritual group-thus showing the retail marketing potential for food-related rituals

To see whether they could achieve the same effect with something less exciting but more nutritious than a chocolate bar, the researchers repeated the experiment with the least thrilling food they could imagine: carrots.

Sure enough, participants who performed a series of gestures before consuming the carrots reported more enjoyment than those who just ate them. (Norton notes that parents have been employing this technique for time immemorial—ritualistically pretending that a spoonful of pureed peas is, say, "a plane coming in for a landing" in order to make it more appealing to babies.)

Either our forefathers knew the real power of rituals or, despite the meaninglessness, through persistent practice they hardwired it into our brains and ensured that rituals are an integral part of our lives even today

Seeing flowers in a new light.

A friend had invited me to a function to mark the inauguration of his new office. To demonstrate my classiness, I dropped by on the way at a star-hotel to pick up a bunch of flowers from the bouquet shop there. I told the valet not to take my car away as I would be back in exactly 5 minutes, which is the time I estimated that I would need to select the flowers, pay and rush back.

A bunch of red-coloured flowers looked fine to me and I asked for the price. Not so fast, said the lady there. “What was the occasion?”. Red roses have romantic connotations and I had better be careful. Unhappy occasions require more sober-coloured flowers such as white carnations. Orchids are good for birthdays, blah, blah.

Anyway, after a good 30 minutes, I came out of the shop armed with a floral arrangement of assorted colours.

It was when I was getting into the car that it hit me that I knew nothing about flowers. I couldn’t have identified any of the flowers in that shop, except for the rose maybe. If you showed me pictures of various flowers, I could perhaps come up with 7 or 8 names. That’s it.

Later, when I got back home, I googled for an old essay that I had read, titled, “How flowers changed the world”, by an American naturalist named Loren Eiseley. In that lovely and scholarly piece, Eisely explains how the emergence of flowers had made such a difference to evolution of life on Earth.

Once upon a time there were no flowers at all.

A little while ago—about one hundred million years, as the geologist estimates time in the history of our four-billion-year-old planet—flowers were not to be found anywhere on the five continents. Wherever one might have looked, from the poles to the equator,one would have seen only the cold dark monotonous green of a world whose plant life possessed no other color.

Somewhere, just a short time before the close of the Age of Reptiles, there occurred a soundless, violent explosion. It lasted millions of years, but it was an explosion, nevertheless. It marked the emergence of the angiosperms—the flowering plants, Even the great evolutionist, Charles Darwin, called them “an abominable mystery,” because they appeared so suddenly and spread so fast.

Flowers changed the face of the planet. Without them, the world we know—even man himself—would never have existed. Francis Thompson, the English poet, once wrote that one could not pluck a flower without troubling a star. Intuitively he had sensed like a naturalist the enormous interlinked complexity of life. Today we know that the appearance of the flowers contained also the equally mystifying emergence of man.

   He concludes the essay in this grand fashion.

Without the gift of flowers and the infinite diversity of their fruits, man and bird, if they had continued to exist at all, would be today unrecognizable. Archaeopteryx, the lizard-bird, might still be snapping at beetles on a sequoia limb; man might still be a nocturnal insectivore gnawing a roach in the dark. The weight of a petal has changed the face of the world and made it ours.

The next time I order a bouquet I’ll do it more respectfully. We exist because of the flowers.

 

Death by KYC

Not a day passes without some agency or other asking me for proof of identity and address. My bank recently asked me to submit two sets of KYC forms each with a photograph because I had two accounts with them. I went to Airtel to ask for a micro-SIM card to replace my regular one and they wanted me to provide ID/address proof. One Govt agency wanted separate proofs- one for my ID and one for my address. Copy of passport that provides evidence for both will not do.

I now carry a few photographs of mine in my wallet, and the original driving licence for instant photocopying when such KYC emergencies arise. Yesterday, I was at a branch of SBI where I have my PPF account. I wanted the term to be extended by another 5 years. To my surprise, I was not asked for my ID proof or photograph. As I had carried these anway, I had to insist that they should let me submit them. I heard myself argue that this was my funadamental right and they couldn't deny this to me. This is the kind of paranoid person that the KYC norms has reduced me to. And that’s why this story (source) resonated deeply with me:

An Irishman, unknown to me, presented a check of one of our customers, payable to the order of Pat O’Flaherty. I told him it would be necessary for him to bring some one to identify him. ‘Identify! and what in God’s name is that?’ he answered. I endeavored to explain to him that he must go and bring in some of his friends whom we knew to satisfy us that he was Pat O’Flaherty. ‘All right,’ he said, and started off; but had scarcely gone fifty yards when he returned, and with a knowing twinkle in his eye, called out to me, ‘See here, if I’m not Pat O’Flaherty, who the devil am I?’ This was unanswerable.

I would like to try this out once. When some bank official wants me to submit proof of my identity, I’ll ask him with a straight face, “ See here, if I’m not Raj, who the devil am I?”.

Take life one day at a time.

Good batsmen have better powers of concentrations and stay focused right through their stay at the crease. They should not let themselves be distracted even during the breaks. This is what we’ve been told.

Greg Chappell, in his column in The Hindu, explains how that piece of wisdom did not work for him and how he needed to change his approach.

My own experience was that, to bat for long periods, I had to break my innings down and train myself to play one ball at a time. Once I acquired this skill, I found batting for long periods became easier.

Prior to this, I had tried to concentrate non-stop by forcing myself to focus fiercely from the time I walked in until I got out. During this period, I tried to follow the bowler and the ball for the whole over so that I didn’t lose concentration.

What I found during this phase, was that I tired very quickly and actually began to make mistakes after a relatively short period of time. If I did succeed using this method, I was usually so tired that I couldn’t relax easily afterwards and I was generally ‘flat’ for a few days.

On reflection, it dawned on me that this method was bound to fail and I had to find an alternative method. The alternative I chose was to train myself to concentrate for one ball at a time.

Concentration is the ability to focus on what is important at that moment.

From that point, my practice sessions became a contest with myself to see how well I could manage the conflicting messages in my head. Training was no longer an exercise in polishing my technique, but a mental exercise in engaging with the bowler at the appropriate time.

What I learnt to do was to switch-on to the bowler once he reached his bowling mark. The fiercest concentration was saved for the time that the bowler reached his delivery stride until that particular play was finished.

In between balls, I had a quick look into the crowd to give my mind a break before returning my attention to the field of play. I re-engaged with the bowler again once he got back to his mark.

The look into the crowd was an important part of my concentration routine. If I was playing at home, I would pick out someone whom I knew to look for. I astounded my family and friends when, at the end of the day, I could tell them what time they had arrived at the ground, who they had spoken to and what time they had a drink or something to eat.

Once I perfected this routine, I was never fatigued during play nor was I exhausted at the end of a long innings. Effectively, I had only concentrated at full intensity for a matter of minutes, even if I batted all day.

One of the challenges for me during net sessions with multiple bowlers was not to face up to the next ball until I was switched-on to the next bowler. It took me a while to get my routine down pat, but once I got into the flow of it, I found it easier to get into the ‘zone’.

Interestingly, I actually faced fewer balls in my allocated practice time once I started doing this, but actually felt that I was getting more out of my net sessions. Once I perfected my mental routine, I found it exciting to see how long I could bat before I made a mental mistake.

The sentence, “Concentration is the ability to focus on what is important at that moment” makes a lot of sense. Far easier to break up a task into multiple, manageable chunks and tackle it one at a time.

For your comfort and safety....

Airlines and hotels love to hype the smallest of comforts that they provide. The classic case is the announcement airline stewards make that “the outside temperature is minus 54 deg C, but for your comfort we are maintaining a temperature of plus 24 deg C inside” as if it is one hell of a favour.

More interesting is the way they try to justify a withdrawal of a basic facility or for charging you for it.

Many hotels have used the pretext of ‘protecting the environment” to avoid replacement of towels every day. You can find a notice in the bathroom which says something like this. “Washing a towel requires 20 litres of water. As this hotel is committed to an eco-friendly approach and to conservation of precious, natural resources like water, we solicit your cooperation. If you would like the towel to be washed, please leave it on the floor. Towels left on hangers will not be washed”. The sub-text is that if you have even a modicum of shame, you will use that towel for the rest of your stay in the hotel and not dare to put it for wash.

While staying in a hotel in Australia recently ( 300 AUD per night. Breakfast, wi-fi not included. Drinking water extra at AUD 8 per bottle), I saw a sign above the mini-bar. “We know that you have tastes that are special and unique. That’s why we have emptied the mini-bar. Please call us up and state your needs so that we can fill it up for you”. This is a good idea. Guests frequently dispute the mini-bar bills and claim the items were never there in the first place. By asking the guests to choose the items to be stocked, the hotels ensure that he/she signs off on the inventory.

On the bed, next to the pair of wafer-thin pillows was a sign which said, “We know that you like to use a pillow of your own choice. That’s why we offer you a menu of pillow options for you to choose from. “. They charge AUD 6 for the pillows.

Next to the bath tub was a notice, “We care for your safety. We have provided a rubber mat for your use. Please ensure that the suction grip is firmly in place before you step into the bathtub.” I checked if there was another sign which indicated the extra charge for the rubber mat. Not only was there no sign, there was no rubber mat to be found either. So much about their concern for my safety.

Later, as I was checking out, I was informed that payment by credit card would attract an additional 3% charge. Of course, if I felt uncomfortable about those charges, I could always pay by cash....