British and Native Cochin

Title: British and Native Cochin

Author: Charles Allen Lawson

Publisher: Asian Educational Services, 2001 (First published 1861)

ISBN: 81-2506-1574-1

Pages: 176

Kochi, formerly Cochin, is a picturesque coastal city on the western coast of Kerala. It carries memories of many centuries of military history, but the formative period begins on 24 December 1500 when Pedro Alvarez Cabral of Portugal landed on its shore from Brazil. The coast then becomes the battleground of European powers, the Dutch gaining the upper hand in 1663, and finally, the British vanquished them in 1795. Charles Allen Lawson, later knighted, was the secretary of the Madras Chamber of Commerce and worked as the editor of several newspapers there. He has also written a few books on related topics. This book was first published in 1861 and is a delightful little account of the state of Cochin, under the control of the British and the native raja. Lawson delves into the details of the geography, history, physiography and climate of the land, the people, their occupations, and their appearance, an analysis of the social milieu and the economic indicators of the country. He is very observant and intelligent in order to deduce the nature and character of the objects of his study, whether it is men, merchandise or the political ramifications of a native state tightly reined in leash by the colonial bureaucrats. Lawson dedicates an entire chapter on the coconut tree, which is an elixir of life in this part of the country. There is no other tree or article which is so abundantly useful for the owners. He brings out so many valuable trinkets of information about the coconut tree which is unknown to even a Keralite living in the present age. How many of us know the technique to estimate the age of a coconut tree? Read this book to know the answer.

Lawson begins with a succinct history of Cochin, which is the first European township in India. Cabral, Vasco Da Gama and Alphonso d’Albuquerque landed respectively in 1500, 02 and 03. The Raja of Cochin gave all assistance to the Portuguese as a counterweight to the Calicut Zamorin who was the raja’s arch enemy. The Portuguese could not find much leeway in Calicut, due to the strong Muslim presence and settled at Cochin. They were a religiously bigoted race and soon alienated the natives with their wantonly cruel religious practices and wicked schemes to convert the natives. Local Christians were also tortured by the foreigner’s narrow, sectarian doctrines. So, when the Dutch appeared on the horizon, they were welcomed eagerly. On 6^th January 1663, they militarily defeated the Portuguese and made Cochin their base. It was also a time of territorial expansion of the English East India Company. They edged all other European powers out from the coast and captured Ceylon in 1782 from the Dutch, who were further weakened by the subjection of their home country by the French republicans after the French Revolution. On 19^th October 1795, they humbled the Dutch by the explosion of a single shell on the premises of the Governor’s palace and held it till India became independent.

The book was published in 1861, near the time when the British put a ruthless end to a challenge to their hegemony in 1857 and contains derogatory references against the natives. For him, the local people were only a parameter that affected the prospects of Europeans, like the weather, diseases, weapons and soldiery. If they manage it well, the business was bound to prosper. Lawson’s criticism of the Portuguese for their bigoted shortsightedness in not due to any sympathetic considerations towards the natives, but at the disastrous impact the policies had wrecked on the country. And the narration is sometimes plain racist. While describing the plight of the Portuguese people who continued to stay in Cochin after the city’s fall to the Dutch in 1663, Lawson says, “such of the inhabitants as had the opportunity returned home, whilst the remainder and poorer submitted to their conquerors and were gradually degenerated by contact with native blood, their descendants being now only recognizable by their grandiloquent patronymics” (p.10). Degeneration by mixing with native blood indeed! And then, see how Lawson describes the people of Kerala, “It must be allowed that they are an inferior race, small, weak and debased.” (p.57)

After describing the incidents that led Cochin to become a base for the British, Lawson wonders how long they could hold on to it. He says “it might any day be destroyed by an invisible enemy, in steel-plated frigates armed with Napoleon guns.” Hardly nine decades after writing this, British vacated the land, but in a way the author could not even dream of. The invisible enemy’s weapon was not a frigate, but a silent weapon, Satyagraha and its captain was not an admiral, but an old man who might have been considered insignificant, had Lawson seen him then. This portion made for delighted reading.

The author being a protestant looks askance at the bigoted and ignorant ways of the Roman Catholics, who made the large portion of the inhabitants of British Cochin. He says, “their bigotry is something approaching to the ludicrous, and their devotion to the ‘cloth’ to idolatry. The priests are, with a few exceptions, under-educated, conceited, small-minded men, such as are the pest of a town like this, and are the obstacles to the introduction of salutary reforms. Excommunication and penance are frequently sentences for the most trifling opposition to the priestly will, and an inquisitorial confession required, that, it has been proved, has sometimes been shamefully directed to immoral purposes” (p.34)

Lawson’s description of the people is immensely witty. He finds a hilarious but apt metaphor to describe the skin tones of the native inhabitants. He says, “The colour of the people differs greatly, and can be best imagined by taking a cup of coffee undiluted as the standard of low life, and pouring in drops of milk as higher rank is desired, until the white predominates in the liquid, which is the tint of the aristocratic classes” (p.58-59). He discloses a startling remark that Malayalees’ hair turned grey at the tender age of thirty, probably as a result of excess application of medicinal oils and unguents. The hair of the working classes turned grey only at about forty. He ridicules the physical stature of the natives on account of the bulging stomach most of them carried, “The stomach, besides its cast iron nature of digesting almost anything in the animal and vegetable kingdom, appears to have, in India, a power of expansion which might make even an Irish man stare with a recollection of his feats over a cauldron of potatoes” (p.66).

The book is a must-read for history aficionados and people who look for the footmarks of history in a city which is bustling at its seams in its bid to acquire the status of a metropolitan city. This short but immensely informative book must satisfy the thirst of a good many readers. Lawson’s racist comments may be forgiven if we take a closer look at the ethos of the age.

The book is highly recommended.

Rating: 3 Star

Babur Nama

Title: Babur Nama – Journal of Emperor Babur

Author: Zahir-ud-Din Mohammed Babur

Translator: Annette Susannah Beveridge

Editor: Dilip Hiro

Publisher: Penguin, 2006 (First)

ISBN: 978-0-14-400149-1

Pages: 345

Babur is an exceptional personality as far as Indian history is concerned. He founded the greatest dynasty of the country’s recorded history. Just as his conquest of the country marked a turning point in medieval history, destruction of a mosque he supposedly built at Ayodhya on the ruins of a prior temple demarcates a clear turning point of our country’s modern history. Babur Nama is the journal of Babur, a kind of diary in which he chronicled events and noted down his assessments of potentates, artists and poets. Babur’s manuscript is unique as no other ruler till that time had produced a record of his activities. In fact, the feat remained unchallenged till 19^th century when Queen Victoria started one. His journal is vast in content, which covers geography, astronomy, statecraft, military strategies and weapons, battles, flora and fauna, biographies and family chronicles, social mores, poetry, rowdy wine parties and lot more. The book, written in Turkish was translated by Annette Susannah Beveridge in 1921 and abridged by Dilip Hiro to publish this version in 2006. Beveridge was an Orientalist renowned for her effort in women’s education. She came to India in 1873 and helped found the Hindu Mahila Bidyalaya in Calcutta, which later became Bethune College. Hiro is a fulltime writer, journalist and broadcaster. He has published many books on Middle Eastern themes. One of his books, ‘Blood of Earth’ has been reviewed earlier in this blog.

Babur’s impassionate scrutiny of past deeds is commendable and worth emulating by rulers and the ruled alike. He is not averse to admit that he had made a wrong decision in light of the harsh reality that followed it. He had ousted Mughal rebels (those related to him on the matrilineal side) from Andijan, but several retainers had remained with him after switching loyalties. When the threat was past, Babur had a rethinking as to the desirability of these people staying behind. In fact, they had once sided with his enemy and may do so again, if the temporarily defeated foe rears his head at his castle gates. So he decided to punish them by stripping them off all valuables. And see what Babur writes about it later, “In conquest and government, though many things may have an external appearance of reason and justice, yet one lakh reflections are required to consider the implications of each of them. From this single rash order of ours, what troubles came about! What rebellions arose! In the end, the same ill-considered order was the cause of our second exile from Andijan” (p.49). A very fine example of genuine introspection.

One of the reasons attributed to Indian rulers’ inability to win battles against the invading Muslim forces is the undue importance given by these princes to the astrological advice. While choosing the right time of attack by their charts and instruments, the astrologers paid scant regard to the demands of military strategy. With this in mind, we will be astonished to learn that Babur also believed in that false science and chose the time of attacking movement from planetary positions. While fighting against Mohammed Shaibani Khan Uzbek for retaining Samarkand, Babur says, “the reason I was so eager to fight was that only on the day of the battle, the eight astronomical stars (seven stars of the plough and the pole star) were between our two armies. If I had postponed the battle, these stars would have shifted to the enemy’s rear for 13 or 14 days” (p.74). But, as can be expected, those walked looking at the stars usually tripped and fell. After losing the battle miserably, Babur adds ruefully, “I realize now that these considerations were worth nothing and our haste was illogical” (P.74).

Babur recorded the true colours of the medieval Afghan warriors who showed great pretensions of bravery and courage in India. He remarks on an incident after he took Kabul, “We had been told that when Afghans were unable to resist, they went before their foe with grass between their teeth, that is to say, ‘I am your cow’. Here we witnessed this custom. Unable to resist, Afghans approached us with grass between their teeth” (p.143). But Babur was not to be moved. “Those Afghans who had been brought to us as prisoners were ordered to be beheaded. Later, a pillar of their heads was erected in our camp” (p.143).

The Turkish emperor was a profligate drinker. He didn’t begin the proscribed practice until he was 29 years old, but thereafter more than made up for lost time. His booze parties served liquor and narcotics sweetened with sugar and honey. Regarding an extravagant party on his first incursion to India, Babur writes, “On reaching my quarters, I vomited greatly. I must have been very drunk. When they told me the following day that we had galloped loose rein into camp, bearing torches, I could not recall it in the very least” (p.216). We see the picture of a young man enjoying the pleasures with least regard to religious injunctions.

Babur was thoroughly unimpressed with India and its inhabitants, which he conquered. We read that “Hindustan is a country of few charms. Its people have no good looks; of social intercourse, paying and receiving visits there is none; of genius and capacity none; of manners none; in handicraft and work, there is no form of symmetry, method or quality. There are no good horses, no good dogs, no grapes, musk melons or first-rate fruits, no ice or cold water, no good bread or cooked food in the bazaars; no hamams, no college, no candles, torches or candlesticks” (p.275). That is a long litany of dissatisfaction.

Babur was a man of letters too, with a sound faculty of making verses in Turkish (his mother tongue) and Persian (the literary and court language). Reading some of his reproduced quatrains, we are tempted to pronounce him no mean poet, considering the fact that he ruled a vast area of land. He admonishes his son Humayun on his writing style and suggests improvements. Some of his suggestions transcend time and is golden advice for writers of all time and places. He says “In future, write without elaboration. Use plain, clear words. That will lesson your trouble and your readers” (p.320).

There is no mention of Ayodhya and the temple there. The translator simply remarks that these pages are missing in the Turkish originals regarding Babur’s campaigns of North India in 1528. 

Even though Islam strictly forbids its adherers from practicing homosexuality and proffers severe punishment for its practitioners, we see from his diary that Babur was one, or a bisexual, rather. He writes about a slave boy in his hometown Andijan, “In those days I discovered in myself a strange inclination – no, a mad infatuation – for a boy in the camp’s bazaar, his name Baburi being apposite. Until then I had no inclination of love and desire for anyone, by hearsay or experience. From time to time Baburi appeared before me. But out of modesty and bashfulness, I could never look directly at him. How then could I make conversation with him? In my joy and agitation, I couldn’t even thank him for coming. One day, during that period of desire and passion, when I was walking with companions along a lane and suddenly saw him face to face, I got into such a state of confusion that I almost lost my senses. To look straight at him or string words together was impossible” (p.61)

The book is good to read and helps greatly to reveal the medieval king’s mind before the reader and keep us amazed at the swiftness and arbitrariness of justice in those times. Babur’s state of mind at the instant of pronouncing verdict determined the fate of the accused.

The book is highly recommended.

Rating: 3 Star

The Lost River

Title: The Lost River – On the Trail of the Sarasvati

Author: Michel Danino

Publisher: Penguin, 2010 (First)

ISBN: 978-0-14-306864-8

Pages: 293

Every Indian is brought up on the legend of a river that mysteriously disappeared in its course and made it through a subterranean way to the confluence at Allahabad. The Rig Veda sings in praise of the mighty, perennial river that was one of the lifelines of the vedic society. The Sarasvati river is no more, but the legends about it are so full of life that even today’s societies in Rajastan and Haryana states harbor many of them, rich with embellishments. But, what was the real picture? Was there such a river, that desiccated over the centuries in the hostile sands of the Thar desert? Read the book for the answer, which turns out to be a resounding ‘Yes’. Michel Danino has gone through a slew of reference material to compile information from history, archeology, religion, linguistics and even folk legend to piece together an eminently readable text that appeals to any category of readers. The author, originally from France, has made India his home and participates in the works of Sri Aurobindo. He convened the International Forum for India's Heritage (IFIH) with the mission of promoting the essential values of India's heritage in every field of life. The author has put forward many ideas, some of them having solid foundations, some others not so strong and still some others that are quite flimsy. Whatever may be the impression one retains at the end of reading this volume, there is no denying that they are witnessing the work of a great Indophile. Danino’s outlook is so thoroughly Indian.

Scholars traditionally accepted river Ghaggar as Sarasvati. But this is not convincing as we see tributaries to this river with strikingly similar names like Sarsuti, which are still flowing. The river was sacred for the Vedic poets, as there are 45 Rigvedic hymns in which the river is mentioned, 72 mentions elsewhere and three hymns dedicated exclusively to the river. Naturally, the river which flowed through the interfluve of Yamuna, which flowed east to the Ganges and Sutlej, which ran west to the Indus. Present day Ghaggar is a poor stream, that loses itself in the sand dunes of the Rajastan desert. Why then did the Vedic bards sing richly about it? Danino gives a convincing solution to the problems even though the concepts involve geological and tectonic postulates. He argues that Sutlej changed its course many times in the past, as evidenced by the paleo-channels that crisscross Punjab. Indeed, the numerous streams through which the river flowed made the ancient poets call her Shatadru (with a hundred channels). This proto-Sutlej ran through the beds of Ghaggar and Hakra (which is in Pakistan and totally lost to the deserts), and flowed clear of Indus through its east and emptied into the Arabian Sea at Rann of Kutch. Sutlej is a mighty river, and the dried beds of Hakra are having a width of 4-6 km for a length of 250 km! Danino further speculates that the Yamuna also had a link to the Sarasvati system, and a major portion of its water flowed into Sarasvati, before changing direction to the east as at present. The issue of why the river changed its course is tricky and involves much guess work. But Danino’s arguments are balanced and plausible. He cites the sharp bend of present day Sutlej at Ropar to the west was the event that marked the end of it draining to Sarasvati. It may be due to earth quakes, lifting up of terrain or more gradual processes of rivers in general. The diversion of Yamuna is a clearer geological event as the diversion occurred at higher altitudes, which is due to earth quake. Indeed, fresh water is still available in wells along the ancient beds of Sarasvati in the Rajastan desert (Cholistan desert in Pakistan). The water table of these places is still not very deep, suggesting the might of the ancient river and the abundance with which it carried water.

Danino turns next to the archeological remains of the great civilization that flowered on the river banks of the Indus system. Between about 3200 and 1900 BCE, a notably large spread of chalcolithic townships blossomed out of the river valleys. The discovery of the fist site at Harappa was rather fortuitous, when labourers ransacked the remains to gather bricks as ballast to Lahore – Multan railway line! At the time of partition of the country, 40-odd sites were identified of which everything except two minor sites went to Pakistan. Free India suddenly found itself bereft of its legacy. Nehru’s government was stung into action and archeologists made a beeline to the Rajastan desert to dig. The effort was eminently fruitful – hundreds of sites, both major and minor – were located, with Kalibangan, Dholavira and Lothal being the major ones. Looking at the mushrooming of sites on the Sarasvati – Drishadvati system, Danino proposes to rename the civilization as Indus – Sarasvati civilization. The suggestion, no doubt appeals to the Indian mind. The author also postulates on the probable causes that brought about its downfall. Aryan invasion now appears to be old fashioned and desiccation seems to be the plausible cause. We must be aware that research which runs contrary to this assumption is also available. But on a minimum, we may accept the following scenario. Ancient Sarasvati was fed by Sutlej and Yamuna. Tectonic shifts resulted in Yamuna joining the Ganges system. The north Indian plain is notoriously plain, like a few centimeters in a kilometer and any slight uplift is sufficient to alter riverine course. To add to the diminished waters due to realignment of Yamuna, Sutlej also withdrew from Sarasvati and joined the Indus. The resulting arid geography obliterated the vestiges of civilization that was then wrapped up by sand dunes.

Danino proposes that there is no discontinuity in the religio-cultural progress from Harappan civilization to the Vedic age as established by Sanskrit scholars like Max Muller. He suggests several archeological and constructional features that are common between the periods. However, this is not very convincing. To conclude the point, the authors rake up several ratios between lengths, breadths and heights. The picture we form of the attempt is that Danino will go to any length (no pun intended) to get his ratio right. There will naturally be several values associated with a structure and there is reason to suppose that a few of them may turn up to 5/4, the predominant parameter of construction of the Harappan system. And also, there is another serious issue if we allow the author’s time for Sarasvati’s drying up. It is given in the text that the river totally dried up around 1900 BCE. So, the flattering hymns about the river contained in Rig veda must be at least a few centuries earlier than this date, probably 2200 BCE, but linguists and historians concur on a date of 1500 BCE for the Aryan invasion, and a date nearer to 1000 BCE for the oldest Veda. How can this be accommodated? Danino resorts to the easiest recourse. He claims that the Veda was at least a millennium older in composition than is otherwise thought and that the theory of Aryan invasion (or migration, as he says) never took place.

The author makes a good contribution to the hypothesis that the two stages of urbanization in ancient India, the Indus phase (during 3^rd – 2^nd millennium BCE) and the Ganges phase (1^st millennium BCE) are culturally continuous. Detailed analysis of structural dimensions are conducted and declared as proof of the similarity. However, the extensively threadbare analysis of the ratios of lengths and breadths of buildings slightly push the argument to the side of trivia. Also, arguments like buildings were a reflection of the microcosm and macrocosm are sure to attract the label of occultism to an otherwise reasonable work.

The book’s irrational pre-occupation with finding magical ratios at every nook and cranny of proto-historic sites brings down the rating by a notch. The author’s attempts are too feeble and forced. Also, his association with Vedic sacrifices performed in recent times like his presence at Panjal, Kerala, which he himself mentions, clubs him in the company of a few authors who desire to assign a greater antiquity on Indian culture than is warranted by evidence.    

The book is highly recommended.

Rating: 3 Star

Pink Brain, Blue Brain

Title: Pink Brain, Blue Brain – How Small Differences Grow Into Troublesome Gaps and What We Can Do About It

Author: Lise Eliot

Publisher: Oneworld, 2012 (First published 2010)

ISBN: 978-1-85168-799-2

Pages: 315

Gender identity is the primal factor that differentiates a human being from another. When a baby is born, a large portion of the parents’ hope for the child’s future is shaped immediately upon knowing its gender. No wonder it had led to many stereotypes and oppression of one from the other. But, is there any difference among the two genders hidden in the genetic code and if it does how it will affect the development of the body, both physically and socially? This is a fundamental question which finds itself interesting to any reader, whatever may be his background. Lise Eliot is Associate Professor of Neuroscience at the Chicago Medical School and lectures widely on children’s brain and gender development. Being a first-rate scholar and neurobiologist, she is amply suited to dig deep into the issue and suggest practical propositions that would enable society to help develop each person to his or her fullest potential, without referring to how that person looks like, or what is preconceived about him/her. The book is gifted with an exhaustive notes section, impressive bibliography and a thorough index. Anyone oriented towards a deeper investigation would find this book an excellent starting point. After an exhaustive narration of the differences among the two genders, Eliot goes on to downplay the dissimilarities and argues that object-oriented training is enough to get over any supposed handicap, opening up vast and new vistas for the budding minds to conquer. A must-read book for all readers.

Eliot presents an exciting picture of the events unfolding in the pre-natal period when the brain casts itself into one or the other gender. A surge of the hormone ‘testosterone’ through the fetus’ brain transforms selective areas of the brain in order to make a person of the pre-programmed gender. The author argues with the evidence from research that this initial washing with testosterone differentiate boys who have skills like gross motor ability, visuo-spatial techniques and physical activeness. Though many of the skills can be acquired by a girl with enough training and attitude, the genetic proclivities can’t be denied. However, this surge of the male hormones is suspected to slow down the maturation of young boys when compared to girls of the same age. It is very critical that the hormone switches on at the right time before birth, as otherwise the changes are irreversible. Girls who are exposed to a stronger dose of the hormone act more boyish-like and boys who have a blocking chemical in brain that inhibits testosterone receptors end up being reared as females. They would be sterile, but exhibit many male attributes like height and presence of the Y-chromosome in their genome. It may also be noted that immediately after birth, testosterone levels are the same in both genders. The chapter on pre-natal transformations and the immense chemical manipulations happening on the newly conceived embryo is the most readable and interesting part of the book.

Eliot breaks down the stereotypes associated with both genders like females excel in interpersonal communications, verbal and reading skills, services which demand empathy and males are suitable for athletic skills, math, science and engineering. With a slew of research papers she argues that there is no valid reason to assert that biological reasons like genes or brain difference causes the dissimilarities between men and women. Nurture, rather than nature is said to be behind variance. The argument carries some weight too, as we know that there is a strong surge of females in those fields which are traditionally hailed as male bastions. The author is unwilling to concede even an iota of genetic supremacy to males in any of the areas. In fact, the narration goes to such an extreme that we readers wonder whether the author will stop at ‘proving’ that the differences perceived clearly ‘under the hood’ is really a product of nurture rather than genes.

The book addresses another grave issue that has current relevance. The academic standards of girls have increased much during the last few decades, putting boys at a disadvantage. With their verbal and reading skills, submissiveness, system-friendly work and generally being more mature than the same-age boys under puberty, girls replace them in many academic theatres. Exclusive schools, so far reserved only for girls, have now become essential to boys. The stereotyping now adversely affects them more. Parents and teachers adopt a condoning attitude to boy’s inferior skills under the pretext that they are immature as compared to girls.

It may be shocking to some readers like me, who had read a similar work by Louanne Brizendine, titled ‘The Female Brain’, even though it concentrated only on the pink side of the question. It was reviewed earlier in this blog and given a 4-star rating because of the valued information it provided. That makes me horrified to learn that Lise Eliot rubbishes many assertions of Brizendine as totally unfounded! In this dilemma that only one of the authors could be correct, we would be left wondering whom to believe. Eliot’s style of approach to the question is more balanced; more research-oriented and comparatively more matured than Brizendine’s, who often astonishes the reader with bold conclusions drawn from flimsy or equivocal results. I had remarked in that book’s review that men may find it impossible to lie to their wife’s faces if the book’s postulates are borne out in fact. Probably that explains the lucidity of the earlier work as some part of it may be compared to fiction.

The saddest part of the biological research appears to be that you can get hold of studies that validate both sides of the arguments so that your task become easy to choose one among them which suits your purpose. Eliot’s rubbishes many concepts which allow boys some advantage over girls with evidence supported by some studies, while still acknowledging that there are other studies which argue contrary to the hypothesis. Such dichotomy proves nothing but the fact that the natural sciences still has to travel a lot to get even near to the precision of physical sciences. The author’s rebuttal of the postulate that boys do math better than girls is, however defended by an unfortunate example for her argument. It is said that “It may surprise you to learn that babies can do math, but it’s true. Young infants can tell the difference between a picture of two frogs and a picture of three identical frogs…” (p.215). But frankly, this is not math but simply a sense of counting and there is research which suggests that even birds show some sense of numerical awareness, perhaps reaching up to the number 4. Mathematics is an abstract concept; which imparts the symbol ‘4’ with ‘fourness’ and which uses it further to calculate several complex operations. Eliot’s example is downright false here, babies show some evidence of counting, but that is definitely not math.

After the first chapter which thrillingly explains the subtle chemical changes made in the prenatal brain by gender-specific hormones, the later chapters fall into a predictable rhythm of extolling the virtues of individual attention and good parenting. The author could not overcome the pitfall of pulling anecdotes from her own family as a point of general argument. This is a common drawback seen in scribes of social sciences. The example might be convincing for them, but may seem selective and cherry picking in character for the others.             

        

The book is highly recommended.

Rating: 3 Star