Protest and resistance. Education and knowledge.
Ten films to watch about the history of the Israel-Palestine conflict

















Protest and resistance. Education and knowledge.
Ten films to watch about the history of the Israel-Palestine conflict


















While reading the news from India, the celebrations of Baba Vishwakarma Day caught my imagination. Not least because as I was speaking to my sister earlier on, who had mentioned that the electricity went off due to heavy rains, and the local ‘bijli walla’ won’t come to fix it today. Why I asked? Well because it’s Baba Vishwakarma Day!
The discussion inevitably led us to reminisce about the past and we started talking about Baba Vishwakarma and what it meant to us, especially when growing up. I recall my mother having a photo of Baba Vishwakarma in her prayer room, but the day after Diwali was especially important because this is when we celebrated Vishwakarma Day. She would offer special prayers with prasad (offering) consisting of sweet boondi, that was bought for this purpose. The conversation with my sister prompted me to go and find that picture, which I had kept as a keepsake for many years.
My mother stitched clothes, mostly salwar kameezes, to make ends meet, a talent that she was well-known for in the local community. She was meticulous, everyone who had clothes made by her was aware of her fine cutting and stitching skills, and how well presented her clothes were when she delivered them. I helped when I was able to, but my standards were never high enough! The sewing machine was at the heart of her (our) survival and also how she was able to reinvent herself from a housewife to a single parent with young daughters in a new place.
So why are the Ramgarhia community associated with Vishwakarma? This is because the deity is associated with machinery, technical work, tools and is often described as the God of carpenters, goldsmiths, blacksmiths, and those who work in skilled crafts. The Ramgarhias were originally a community of artisans who worked in these professions, and adapted and upskilled to mechanical work during the 19th century, but the old associations and traditions remain, at least for some.
These stories are now a part of my memory and history, even though the narrative today may be different. My parents belonged to a generation that was more open, less prescriptive and the religious boundaries were more porous. I went to gurdwaras, I took a dip in the Ganges, and we went to Sufi shrines, it was part of the collective identity. Although Punjab witnessed some of the most horrific communal violence in the 1947 Partition, the region is also ironically one of the most pluralistic. For a devout Sikh, my mother was perfectly at ease with the presence of Baba Vishwakarma and indeed Baba Balak Nath in her prayer room, both of whom have a strong presence in Ludhiana amongst the Ramgarhia Sikhs.
So, while doing some research for this post, I came across a PhD from the University of Leeds by Sewa Singh Kalsi (1989). It made interesting reading and I share some key extracts, which provide a glimpse into the history and transformation of the Tarkhan/Ramgarhia Sikhs. Kalsi’s study focused on the city of Leeds (UK) but the extracts below show the emergence and transformation of this small but important community.
“The entry of the Tarkhans into the Sikh Panth can be traced to Bhai Lalo, a carpenter of the village Aimnabad, now in Pakistan. On his first travels (udasi) Guru Nanak stayed with Bhai Lalo where he composed his celebrated hymn enunciating his mission. He addressed this hymn to Bhai Lalo, condemning the mass slaughter by the army of Babur, the first Moghul emperor of India. Commenting on the status of Bhai Lalo within the Sikh Panth, McLeod says that “Even higher in the traditional estimation stands the figure of Bhai Lalo, a carpenter who plays a central part in one of the most popular of all ianam-sakhi (biography) stories about Guru Nanak” (1974:86). Gurdial Singh Reehal in Ramgarhia Itihas (History of the Ramaarhias) (1979) notes the names of seventy two distinguished Punjabi carpenters who worked closely with the Sikh Gurus and made valuable contributions to the development of Sikh tradition. He says that “Bhai Rupa, a prominent Tarkhan Sikh officiated at the wedding of the 10th Guru, Gobind Singh. His descendants known as Bagrian-wale (belonging to the village of Bagrian) were the royal priests of the Sikh rulers of Phulkian states. They administered the royal tilak (coronation ceremony) and officiated on royal weddings” (Reehal 1979:162). It seems plausible that the entry of Tarkhans into the Sikh Panth took place under the leadership of distinguished Tarkhan Sikhs over a long period.” P 104
“Most prominent among the followers of Guru Gobind Singh were two Tarkhan Sikhs, Hardas Singh Bhanwra and his son, Bhagwan Singh, who fought battles under his command. After his death in 1708, both leaders joined forces under Banda Bahadur to lead the Sikh Panth. Commenting on the position of Bhagwan Singh Bhanwra within the Sikh Panth, Gurdial Singh Reehal says that “Bhagwan Singh was appointed governor of Doaba (Jullundar and Hoshiarpur districts) by Banda Singh Bahadur” (1979:209). Jassa Singh Ramgarhia was the eldest son of Bhagwan Singh. He inherited the skills of his father and grandfather and became the leader of Ramgarhia misl (armed band). Jassa Singh built the fort of Ramgarh (this means literally the fort of God) to defend the Golden Temple, Amritsar. McLeod notes that “In 1749, however, he (Jassa Singh) played a critical role in relieving the besieged fort of Ram Rauni outside Amritsar. The fort was subsequently entrusted to his charge, rebuilt and renamed Ramgarh, and it was as governor of the fort that he came to be known as Jassa Singh Ramgarhia” (1974:79). The title of Ramgarhia was bestowed on Jassa Singh by the leaders of the Sikh misls. According to the Dictionary of Punjabi Language (1895), the word “Ramgarrya” means a title of respect applied to a Sikh carpenter. Describing the position held by Jassa Singh among the leaders of Sikh misls, Saberwal in Mobile Men says that “We have noted the part played by Jassa Singh Ramgarhia in the 18th century; though a Tarkhan, by virtue of his military stature he sometimes emerged as a spokesman for all twelve Sikh misls in relation to other centres of power” (1976:99).” P 105
“In order to understand the emergence of Ramgarhia identity, we must locate the processes which have enabled them to move in large numbers from jajmani relationships in the village to urban-industrial entrepreneurship both within India and East Africa. The extension of British rule to the Punjab opened up enormous opportunities for the Punjabi Tarkhans. They channelled their energy and resources into going abroad in search of wealth and towards participating in the urban-industrial growth in India. Their technical skills were harnessed to build railways, canals and administrative towns both in India and East Africa. The Ramgarhias were the majority Sikh group, approximately 90 per cent of the whole Sikh population in East Africa (Bhachu 1985:14; McLeod 1974:87). In East Africa, they established their social and religious institutions like the Ramgarhia associations, Ramgarhia gurdwaras and clubs. By the 1960’s, the Ramgarhias had moved from being skilled artisans, indentured to build the railways, to successful entrepreneurs, middle and high level administrators and technicians. Bhachu argues that “Support structures developed during their stay in East Africa have not only helped manufacture their ‘East Africanness’ but have also aided the perpetuation of their identity as ‘staunch Sikhs’ in the South Asian diaspora, independent of the original country of origin” (1985:13). In East Africa, the Ramgarhias demonstrated a remarkable capacity for maintaining the external symbols of Sikhism, which is a clear indication of their commitment to the Khalsa discipline.” P 107
“The Ramgarhias achieved a noticeable measure of economic success in the urban-industrial sector, both in India and in East Africa. They were able to discard the low status of a village Tarkhan by transforming themselves into wealthy contractors and skilled artisans employed in railway workshops and other industries. In cities they were associated with the Khatri Sikhs, the mercantile group in urban Punjabi society. In the Punjab, the distinctive feature has been the concentration of Ramgarhia Sikhs in particular towns i.e. Phagwara, Kartarpur, Batala, and Goraya. These towns are known for car parts industries, furniture, foundries and agricultural machinery owned by the Ramgarhia Sikhs. This newly achieved economic status was one of the factors which encouraged them to build religious, social and educational institutions belonging to their biradari. In the town of Phagwara, they have built an educational complex which includes a degree college, a teacher training college, a polytechnic, an industrial training institute and several schools.” P 108
And finally, a line from where I take the title of this piece. One of the people interviewed notes: “My spiritual guru is Nanak Dev and my trade guru is Baba Vishvakarma. Many Ramgarhias feel ashamed to be associated with our trade deity.” P 117.
Further references include my own book, in which I discuss the community in relation to the transformation of Ludhiana.
Bhachu, P. (1985). Twice migrants: east African Sikh settlers in Britain (Vol. 31100). Tavistock Publications.
Kalsi, Sewa Singh (1989) The Sikhs and caste : a study of the Sikh community in Leeds and Bradford. PhD thesis, University of Leeds.
Kaur, P. (2017) The dynamics of urbanisation in Ludhiana city. International Journal of Advanced Research and Development, Volume 2; Issue 6, 547-550.
McLeod, W.H. (1974) Ahluwalias and Ramgarhias: Two Sikh castes, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, 4:1, 78-90, DOI: 10.1080/00856407408730689
Virdee, P. (2018). From the Ashes of 1947. Cambridge University Press.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers By Emily Dickinson “Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.



Earlier in the summer I recorded a podcast with Realms of Memory. There are two episodes for those interested in understanding more about the history of Partition, especially how it impacted the Punjab. The talk was based on my book, ‘From the Ashes of 1947: Reimagining Partition’ published by Cambridge University Press (2018). In the podcast I also discuss some of the recent changes that have taken place in the study in Partition.
You can listen to the podcast via most streaming sites, or via Realms of Memory

The other day I was pottering about in the kitchen with the radio on in the background when something caught my ear. The programme “From Our Own Correspondent”, on the BBC World Service, had a piece on the colonisation of the Canary Islands. The islands will be familiar to many Europeans because this is a popular destination for those seeking sun and sand, especially the Brits, who want a guaranteed summer vacation rather than risk the unpredictable weather in the UK! And indeed, it was rather unsettled that day, unable to decide between the sun and rain, but the report duly transported me back to my visits to the Islands.





The Canaries are an archipelago of seven islands and are closer to Africa than to Spain. What is probably lesser known is the history of the Islands before they were colonised. Tourists generally do not go to the Canary Islands for their heritage and history, yet the volcanic lunar landscape is stark and oozing with untold stories. I’ve been to two of the Islands, Lanzarote, and Fuerteventura, both during off-peak times. On those occasions, away from bustling grounds, I have found the landscape to be simply captivating. The barrenness draws you in, but the sea fills you hope and energy. Photographs taken there can be divided into colour pallets of black, blue, and white. Barely anything grows, except the now-abundant aloe vera plant, cultivated for its multiple benefits. The wild tropical climate is ideal for this succulent plant, which originates from the Arabian Peninsula. Indeed, it is most likely that the plant arrived in places like Lanzarote with the Arab merchants and travellers.


Before the relatively recent development of the islands as hyped tourist destinations, there is a darker history. It is here in these islands that the overseas colonial empires by the Europeans started taking shape and the first conquest of an ancient civilisation by the Spanish took place in the early 15th century. The conquistadors came here, and refined their tactics, which they then used to colonise the Americas, providing a template for others to use in the colonisation and destruction of indigenous peoples. The, the documentary, ‘Spain’s First Colony: The Conquest of The Canary Islands’, refers to these islands as the birthplace of the conquistador and the death of the Guanche people, the indigenous inhabitants of the Canary Islands who became extinct by the 17th century.
Mohamed Adhikhari (2017) argues that the Canary Islands were the scene of “Europe’s first overseas settler colonial genocide.” Adhikhari writes:
“Enslavement and deportation, which went hand in hand, accounted for the largest number of victims and were central to the genocidal process. They were in effect as destructive as killing because the victims, generally the most productive members of their communities, were permanently lost to their societies. Child confiscation, sexual violence and the use of scorched earth tactics also contributed to the devastation suffered by Canarian peoples. After conquest, the remnants of indigenous Canarian societies were subjected to ongoing violence and cultural suppression, which ensured the extinction of their way of life. That the enslavement and deportation of entire island communities was the consciously articulated aim of conquerors establishes their “intent to destroy in whole,” which is the central criterion for meeting the United Nations Convention on Genocide’s definition of genocide.”
Going back to the radio programme, it seems that the people of the Canaries are beginning to delve deeper into their own past and talk about the troubled and erased history of the Islands. There is a soon to be opened visitor centre located at Zonzamas, an archaeological site where the last indigenous ruler of Lanzarote had his palace. Beyond the popularity of the sun and sand, the Canaries are a fascinating group of islands, and although not much, it is encouraging to see a more critical excavation of the Islands and the people before the Europeans invaded and made them extinct.



Mohamed Adhikari (2017) ‘Europe’s First Settler Colonial Incursion into Africa: The Genocide of Aboriginal Canary Islanders’, African Historical Review, 49:1, 1-26.
For those interested, you can listen to the progamme: The Canary Islands were well known to ancient civilisations of the Mediterranean. There are accounts of Phoenicians, Greeks and Carthaginians all reaching the islands, as they hunted for valuable plants which were sources of red dye for fabrics. These days, the islands belong to Spain and among them is Lanzarote – a popular destination for European sun-seekers. But beyond its tourist hotels and restaurants, Charles Emmerson stumbled across the origins of one modern European empire.
Read more about Zonzamas, Lanzarote’s ancient towns.
Spain’s First Colony: The Conquest of The Canary Islands:

It is coming to 11 years since my mother died at the age of 83. She had great courage and conviction, illustrated in her decision to come to far-off England – and not go to the familiar India – from Kenya, a few years after my father’s untimely death in 1979. In doing so, with two young children, she was adding considerably to the challenges that she had faced hitherto. Alone, in an alien land, with two growing daughters, she drew upon her inner reserves of strength to provide for us. Moreover, what I do today is down to her encouragement and support throughout my life.
This was not always an easy position for her to take because of wider socio-economic pressures, but she saw education as the master-key to unlock many of these. As her youngest child, I was fortunate to be the first to go to university, for my sisters – we were all girls – were capable of more. She would have preferred that I study something “sensible” like law, medicine, finance, or engineering – like my father – but I showed no interest in these. Instead, I was motivated by art and politics as in 1988-90, an increasingly unequal Britain saw a churn and I was intrigued as Margaret Thatcher was losing her grip.
Studying politics and increasingly history was an unusual and therefore difficult step for me, but despite the misgivings, my mother – open to persuasion – supported me. She didn’t always understand my aims, for that matter nor did I, but instinctively it felt the right thing to pursue. I became increasingly aware of my social identity in university – beyond the name-calling in school – because I was one of only two “brown” girls in a cohort of approx. 70. But the rest of the group too came from different backgrounds, especially that of economic class. This introduction to class was a life-lesson in terms of one’s ability to aspire and imagine.
Thirty years on from when I entered university, this social reality has not changed. Rather it has only metamorphosed, and I now see class difference at play in the post-1992 university that I teach, among the students whom I encounter. Sure, the absolute number of black/brown students coming to study history and politics has increased albeit marginally. Anyhow, this post is not on this social phenomenon but the persona that my mother was, who encouraged me to follow my heart. In those days, it was enough, for the state supported education; there were no student fees, and I was eligible for a maintenance grant.
Otherwise, a mother’s goodwill alone would not have paid for my loan-laced BA/MA, which would have been too big a risk to take. I would not have then followed it up by applying for the Penderel Moon studentship for my PhD, at the turn of the century. My mother was incredibly proud when I got my doctorate, even as I was not untouched by an imposter syndrome. But time and its temper waxes and wanes, on gender, on humanities subjects, and on doubts of the two getting together. Today, the UK higher education is a near-total market, like much of the rest of its society and politics.
In which though, there is also some sliver of charity and that is why I write this post. It was at the Myton Hospice in 2012 that my mother spent her last few hours, with my sister and me, and tomorrow I am doing a 6-mile walk to help raise money for them. Simultaneously, I remember my mother, and reflect on her life and how she shaped me. I take great strength from her ability to start from nothing, having faith, and resilience to carry on with whatever life throws at us.
I share the link for Just Giving for Myton Hospice.
Three very different but interesting films have been released recently. All deal with issues of family, marriage, gender and patriarchy. I’m sharing the trailers here and I hope to explore these themes in more detail in another blog. In the meantime enjoy…
“Of all the social sciences, it is history which rouses the greatest interest in the minds of the politicians. There are various reasons for this. It has always had an inventive and purposive use. The line between history and mythology is thought to be thin; the past can be used to lend legitimacy to any aspect of the present….”
R. Mahalakshmi, ‘Communalising history textbooks’


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