In 1990 President George H. W. Bush approved a joint resolution designating November 1990 “National American Indian Heritage Month.” Similar proclamations, under variants on the name (including “Native American Heritage Month” and “National American Indian and Alaska Native Heritage Month”) have been issued each year since 1994. Read more about this.
At the same time I can’t help but notice that more detailed demographic data emerges from the ONS, in which ‘Leicester and Birmingham have become the first “super-diverse” cities in the UK, where most people are from black, Asian or minority ethnic (BAME) backgrounds, according to the 2021 census’. Read further ‘Diversity is a beautiful thing’: the view from Leicester and Birmingham. As I’m based in Leicester, I hope to explore some of the recent changes in the city in more detail.
A basic thali with palak paneer, daal and rice.
In the meantime, I indulge in the desi ‘home made’ food offered by Mr Harpreet Singh at Singh’s Dhaba. He established his business in 1990 and like many other diasporic Sikhs he came from Virk, a village near Phagwara, in the Jalandhar district.
In 2001, I crossed the Wagah-Attari border for the first time. Since then, I have used this official land crossing between India and Pakistan numerous times, in the process seeing the border undergo multiple changes. It used to be the Grand Trunk Road split in half, with a few meters of “no man’s land” to separate them. I could literally walk from one side to the other, while remaining on the GT Road. Then, the authorities decided to uplift, gentrify, and replace the colonial bungalows. Gone was the quaint and informal space with scattered flower beds and plants and in came the flashy buildings, followed by the airport style security, customs, and immigration; culminating eventually in the hideous and expensive battle for who can hoist the largest flag and keep it flying high!
To be fair, the development of the check post at Wagah-Attari was probably a response to the expectation that relations between the two countries would improve, and with that the foot traffic would increase. The bungalows were not equipped to deal with high volumes of people. Hence, they first established the goods/transit depot on one side of the border, so as to divert the trucks carrying the items of import/export. This separated the trade traffic from the people traffic. Whilst the establishment of a goods depot offered signs of improved trade between the two countries, even this was subject to cordial relations.
With numerous crossings since then, I have seen the border change, not just physically but also its ambience and vibes that the place gives. Indeed, the new buildings and transit buses which take passengers from one side to other have functioned to create further distance between the lines of control. These were not there previously, and the cool formality evokes the illusion of being remote and separate. Borders do not have to be harsh and austere.
These moments and emotions are difficult to capture on camera, but they can be felt when encountering the staff and officials. When I first crossed the border, I had the compact Canon Sure Shot AF-7, which was a popular model in the 1990s and gifted to me. I enjoyed taking photographs, but cameras were not cheap then, and the 35mm film was expensive too, both to buy and to develop, so photos were taken sparingly. When I embarked on my doctoral research, taking my camera was essential for my trips to India and Pakistan, as it was an instrument to visually document my journey. I would normally pack 1-3 rolls of ISO 200 (sometimes also ISO 400) speed film, usually 36 EXP, good for general photographs. But one was never entirely sure until the film was taken back home, handed in for developing, which then produced the joy of physically going through the photographs a week later! Time had passed between undergoing the actual trip and now feeling those photographs in my hands, and the images allowed me to recreate and relive those moments again.
Today everything is instant. In a moment I can be taking a photograph at the border, and then share it with the wider public around the world via social media. The only caveat here is that, generally the phone signals are non-existent within 1-2 kilometres of the border area, so you would probably need to wait until you were able to pick up the phone signal. More importantly, this also disrupted any arrangements one had made to meet people on the other side. If I was crossing the border, I might contact my friends/family beforehand and say, I’m crossing at X time (keeping in mind the 30 minutes times difference between the two countries), so I estimate that I will be out at Y time (usually 60 minutes from one side to the other). But if things didn’t go to plan, there is no way of contacting the person to alert them of the delays. And when you did finally make it to the other side, there were always a small number of people anxiously waiting and looking to see when their friends/family will pass through those doors.
There are many other stories of this rather strange and intriguing no man’s land but to end with a more positive story, I share a picture of a dhaba at Attari, Mittra da dhaba (literal translation – friends’ roadside restaurant) is located close to the entrance to check post, catering to travellers and tourists who come for the daily lowering of the flag ceremony. I have gone there many times, but on one occasion in 2017, I asked the owner to pack some food for me, food which I planned to take across the border and share with my friends in Lahore. He took great care to make it extra special and pack the food tightly, so that it wouldn’t spill. I could see that it also brought him great joy to know that his food would travel to the other side. As we parted, he said come back and tell me if they enjoyed it!
Alas, these stories are in the past tense, and with Covid the border faced further restrictions and closures. I have no idea if my friend is still there, I hope so. We need more friends in these otherwise hostile spaces.
Cornwall, Cornwall every day Bright sun and fresh feelings Simple pleasures by just being here Forward thinking into old age dotage All our lives waiting, hoping, wishing
Never believing it could be Out of mind with secret longing Filling up with atmospheric air Sensing that emotional rush Deep breaths swallowing cliffs and sea
Wild flowers and cows here Hedgerows and windblown trees Lopsided branches pointing inland As cool salt air combs their twigs The winding tracks disappear
Love is here all around, so strong Heart wrenching and stomach churning Soul and body filling up with Cornish… Cornish, as long as it’s Cornish It’s good!
Give us a chance to stay Give us the chance to live Ever on the hard granite pathways Sounds of mewing gulls and thunder of surf Beating on the windswept rocks and beaches
Cornish light familiar and so bright Invading our eyes and warming our hearts Gently massaging our faces with soothing fingers Lifting our spirits as breaking through the clouds It charges us with love
Fulfilled and whole Our lives and minds gratefully feasting The armfuls of wonder as we carry our hearts Together, through eternity, watching As the sun sets in a blaze of Cornish light
I came across this picture in The Pakistan Times, it had caught my imagination, and with little thought for how it might fit into my research I just took a picture of it and then, continued to explore the newspaper for stories on, of and by women. This remained in my photographic archive until recently, when I began to go through the material. The picture still does not fit into the wider project, but it remains striking. It is evidently from the Miss Universe competition, but I knew little of the pageant competition, other than then perhaps how it still continues to resonate with people.
Further probing revealed the Indian representative as the-then Madras-born and intriguingly named Indrani Rahman (1930-99). What could be the (fragmentary) story of this Indian beauty queen appearing in the pages of The Pakistan Times, as a participant of the Miss Universe Pageant held on 28 June 1952, at Long Beach, California? Straightaway her name intrigued me, Indrani is a Hindu name and Rahman is Muslim, yet on the pictures from Miss Universe contest, she appears to wear a bindi on her forehead. Her hair is adorned with the traditional scent of the jasmine flower. These are traditionally worn by married women, especially Hindu women. In total thirty women entered the competition, including the 22-year-old, married and mother of two, Indrani. The competition was eventually won by a 17-year-old Armi Kuusela from Finland. This is what the very first Miss Universe pageant looked like 67 years ago.
The title “Miss Universe” was first used by the International Pageant of Pulchritude in 1926. Subsequently the contest was held annually until 1935, when it was interrupted by the Great Depression and then the Second World War. The current competition was established in 1952 by Pacific Knitting Mills, a California-based clothing company and manufacturer of Catalina Swimwear. The company had sponsored the Miss America pageant until 1951, when the winner, Yolande Betbeze, refused to pose for publicity pictures wearing one of their swimsuits. The ubiquitous swimsuit has remained the source of much discussion, with accusations of objectifying women. Finally recognising the shift in wider attitudes, in 2018 the Miss America contest decided to end the Swimsuit element and focus more on the achievements of the contestants. (Miss America Ends Swimsuit Competition, Aiming to Evolve in ‘This Cultural Revolution’ – The New York Times)
Indrani was the daughter of Ramalal Balram Bajpai (1880-1962) and Ragini Devi (1893-1982) (nee Ester Luella Sherman). Ramalal, a chemist by training, had been an Assistant editor of Young India, a magazine established by the Punjabi nationalist politician, Lala Lajpat Rai, and, after India gained independence, he was appointed as Consul General at New York. Ragini on the other hand, became increasingly passionate about Indian classical dance, and championed the revival of Kathakali.
Already then Indrani’s family were unconventional. Few people in India grew up in mixed-race backgrounds, and indeed even in contemporary India. By the age of 15, in 1945 Indrani herself had eloped and married Habib Rahman (1915–1995), a well-known Indian architect. Soon after her son Ram Rahman was born followed by a daughter, Sukanya Rahman. Habib Rahman worked on iconic places such as Delhi Zoological Park, Gandhi Ghat, and Rabindra Bhavan. He studied at MIT and was the first Indian to complete his Masters in Architecture there in 1944. Rahman was the recipient of the Padma Shri (1955) and Padma Bhushan (1974). Likewise, Indrani was awarded the Padma Shri (1969) and the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award (1981).
This upbringing and early experiences show that Indrani grew up in a much more cosmopolitan milieu that was possibly perhaps only for those in positions of power or the privileged class. Her mother, though Ragini by name, would certainly not have discarded her own cultural upbringing in America. This most likely also played a part in Indrani having fewer inhibitions in participating in beauty contests.
Before Indrani entered the Miss Universe contest, she had already been crowned Miss India, 1952. As side-note, the famous actress of Hindi cinema, Nutan, also started out by entering and being crowned Miss India in 1951 and Miss Mussorie in 1952. The first Miss India was Pramila (Esther Victoria Abraham), from Calcutta, who won in 1947, interestingly the same year that India got Independence.
A news report about this appeared on April 5, The New York Times in 1952 reads thus: “Indian traditionalism was further shocked by the fact that a married woman, Mrs. Indrani Rehman [sic] of Calcutta, was chosen as the winner. As Mrs. Rehman is a Moslem, her participation was especially defiant of custom, since old-style Moslem women, particularly wives, are even more secluded than their Hindu sisters. Emphasizing the departure from Indian tradition even further, the first Miss India is half-American,” (Sara Hussain , 21 Jul 2016)
Besides having the accolade of being the first Indian to take part in the Miss Universe, Indrani was and remained an accomplished classical dancer. She travelled with her mother around the world performing and taking the passion of Bharata Natyam, Kuchipudi, Kathakali and Odissi, to the West. A passion which she passed on to her daughter, and indeed, Sukanya Rahman Wicks had also danced on stage with her mother and grandmother.
Further Reading:
Lightfoot, Louise. Louise Lightfoot in Search of India: An Australian Dancer’s Experience. Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2017.
In late-summer I went to Ayr – of Robert Burns fame; a seemingly random but ultimately delightful choice determined by the compulsions of the Pandemic year. After going to Alloway with its Burns Cottage (and ‘cottage industry’ of Burns Tourism), I started exploring the region and came across a place called Patna! To the Indian and historian in me, the connections and curiosities thereof were irresistible, that is a village of a few thousand souls and the Indian city of some millions carrying the same name. From Ayr, the smaller Patna – by the river Doon – is located about 10 miles away; the other, bigger Patna – capital of the state of Bihar and sprawled by the banks of the mighty Ganga River – is some 8000 km away [https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/uk-scotland-20504111].
Patna, or ancient Patliputra, was the capital of the Mauryan (4th-2nd c. BC) Empire and its short-lived successor, Shunga dynasty, and remained a prominent place under the Gupta (4th-6th c. AD) Empire and its eastern successor, Pala kingdom. From the 13th century, it emerged as a provincial seat under the Delhi Sultanate and the Mughal Empire. In-between and not far, was Sasaram, where the soldier-administrator Sher Shah Suri (1470s-1540s) had his brief imperial reign. Afterwards, for the Sikhs, Patna emerged a great place of pilgrimage, for it was there that the 10th and last Guru, Gobind Singh was born in 1666. With the decline of the Mughal rule, Patna came under the influence of the Nawabs of Bengal and thereafter the English East India Company from 1765. Trading factories had been started in Patna – as early as the 1620s-30s by the Dutch East India Company, the Portuguese too had traded there even earlier, given its location by a navigable river, proximity to the Bay of Bengal and production of textile around. This thriving fortune was taxed by the British, following their victory over the Nawab of Bengal in the Battle of Buxar of 1764, and Patna (and Bihar) – along with the rest of Bengal – passed into (mal)administration of the Company. The region had begun the journey towards its colonization, during which time many Europeans, including the Scots were attracted by the east as a ‘career’, whereby hands the thread connecting the two Patna(s); as can be read below:
The Scottish Patna “was founded in the early years of the 19th century by William Fullarton, whose family had a close connection with the Bihar State. Fullarton’s uncle, William Fullarton, in 1745, was in the service of the East India Company as surgeon at Fort William, Calcutta [now Kolkata]. After a mixed career as soldier and surgeon, he returned eventually to Scotland in 1770 where he bought the estate of Goldring (later Rosemount), near Kilmarnock. He died in 1805 with no family. This William Fullarton had a brother, Major General John Fullarton, of Skeldon. General Fullarton was also in the service of the East India Company and died in India in 1804. He was succeeded by his second son, William, then aged 24”. (Moore, Gently Flows the Doon, 1972)
Source: Donald Reid, Yesterday’s Patna and The Lost Villages of Doon Valley, 2005
The Patna in East Ayrshire is among the many villages in the Doon Valley, which have been associated with a history of coal, ironstone, and limestone mining. Hence, it once also had a thriving railway station on the Glasgow & South Western branch railway between Ayr and Dalmellington. The station opened in 1856, moved location slightly in 1897, and eventually its passenger service ended in 1964, as part of the brutal Beeching cuts. Coal continued to be carried but even this has now declined and the track lays unused. Indeed, there is an air of a place that once was proud, prosperous, and prolific. Today, it is a sleepy village of barely 1000 families with population declining and unemployment increasing, with which the following words are difficult to square:
It was in the early 1800s when William Fullarton, an enterprising young man, began mining for coal and limestone on the banks of the Doon. He built houses nearby to accommodate his workers and he decided to call the hamlet Patna after the city in India where his father and uncle had such close associations. William Fullarton later sold the estate at Skeldon and moved to Ayr where he had a successful career in local politics, twice becoming Provost, around 1823-1825 and 1830-1834. He died in 1835 at the age of 60 and is buried in the cemetery of Ayr Auld Kirk. Fullarton proved himself to be a kindly benefactor to Patna. He built the first house in the village to house the manager of his coal mines. This, with offices attached, was to become known to later generations as Patna House.
Donald Reid, Yesterday’s Patna and the Lost Villages of Doon Valley. 2005
Source: Donald Reid, Yesterday’s Patna and The Lost Villages of Doon Valley, 2005
Fullarton is remembered kindly, having created many local amenities for the small and then-growing area. Mining led to home and hearth, work and schools and the stream – a crucial water source – saw the building of the Patna “Auld Brig” in 1805, which functions as a gateway into the village, adding character to it. By 1837, there was a Church building, which is now known as the United Free Church Hall and serves as another reminder of that age. As for the following twentieth century, it has left in its wake the two, ubiquitous, war memorials and a cemetery. There is the obligatory “local” and the imperative “clinic”, but otherwise few streets, some houses and a bus-service connects Patna’s past to its present. As for its bigger “cousin”, once in a while, a visitor comes, like in 2012 [https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/patna/bihar-minister-visits-patna-a-village-in-scotland/articleshow/17755117.cms] and in 2018 [https://www.hindustantimes.com/world-news/when-two-patnas-met-in-scotland/story-G6uILtSL3bvvjJn6GLNOPP.html].
With my sincerest thanks to David Rarity of Patna, who took the time to share his memories and material collected over the years on the history of Patna.
I came across this fascinating article on ‘The Origin and Growth of Pakistan Railways’ by M. B. K. Malik in Pakistan Quarterly, 1962, Vol 11, No. 1. It provides a brief history of building the railways in British India, especially the motivations and impact this had on the two outer regions of Bengal and Punjab. What captured my interest was actually the objections put forward in the initial days. The first one is from the British perspective, but the second one is from a high-caste Hindu, who obviously envisages multiple problems for those guided by astrologers. Both however, express suspicion and concern at this new system of transport and the wider impact it will have on society and the environment. Of course the railways went on to be built in both Britain and British India, and became pivotal to colonial rule. The economy of empire, with key towns and port cities, coupled with the ability to swiftly move the colonial army from cantonment towns was only made possible because of the railways in British India. But that’s another story. Read below the extract from pages 22-23.
Pakistan Quarterly, 1962, 11, 1, Page 23
The earliest proposals to build railways in India had been made to the East India Company in England in 1844 by Mr. R. M. Stephenson and others. But the time was not propitious. The land had not yet recovered from the effects of the Sind Wars, and the British power and the Sikhs in the Punjab were on the verge of an armed conflict. Nor were the Court of Directors of the East India Company convinced of the feasibility of railways in India. Even in England and Europe railways had met with opposition. In 1835 John Bull had denounced the railways as a menace:
“If they succeed” wrote the paper, “they will give an unnatural impetus to society, destroy all the relations which exist between man and man, over-throw all mercantile regulations, over-turn the metropolitan markets, drain the provinces of all their resources, and create at the peril of life, all sorts of confusion and distress. If they fail, nothing will be left but the hideous memorials of public folly”. It further remarked : “Does anybody mean to say that decent people …. would consent to be hurried along through the air upon a railroad, from which, had a lazy schoolboy left a marble, or wicked one a stone, they would be pitched off their perilous track into the valley beneath; …. being at the mercy of a tin pipe copper boiler, or the accidental dropping of a pebble on the line of way?…. We denounce the mania as destructive of the country in a thousand particulars …. the whole face of the kingdom is to be tattooed with these or a odious deformities …. huge mounds are to intersect our beautiful valleys; the noise and stench of locomotive steam-engines are to disturb the quietude of the peasant, the farmer and the gentleman; and the roaring of the bullocks, the bleating of sheep and the grunting of pigs to keep up one continual uproar through the night along the lines of these most dangerous and disfiguring abominations”.
Objections by Hindus The orthodox Indians had religious objections. A civilian District Officer, posted in the province of Bihar during the sixties of the last century, has recorded an interesting story showing how orthodox Hindus regarded railway travelling in those days. The officer questioned a nobleman, who had just returned from his first journey by rail, about his views on railway travel. The nobleman replied that it made great noise and that it would be difficult for persons of his high caste to travel at all by such means:
The trains only go at stated times; now I cannot commence a journey except at the minute decided upon by my astrologer as a favourable moment for starting. This makes it very difficult for me to travel at all. Tomorrow I have to go to Muzafferpur, and the astrologer has decided that I must start at 1 A.M. Now my cousin Gadahur went by railway the other day with his wife, and daughter of six years old, and a baby. He started at an unfavourable moment. His wife and two children and a maid-servant were put in a palanquin, which was placed on a truck, which prevented their being seen; and he went in an ordinary carriage. Somehow or other a spark from the engine flew into the palanquin and set fire to some of the linen in which the baby was wrapped; and the servant in her confusion, thinking it was only a bundle of clothes, threw it out. The moment it was done she found out the mistake and they all shrieked. This was only a mile from the Patna station and the train soon stopped. The station master was very kind and did his best, but the palanquin was on fire, and the wife in getting out was seen by many persons. It is not a fit subject even for conversation”.
But all the objections came to naught. England was just entering the age of ‘railway mania’ and it was decided to construct railways in India through Guaranteed British Companies.
BAGICHA 