Iqraar-naama of resounding and reassuring 'qaraar'

Partition is a highly combustible theme. While propaganda material often incinerates its inherent richness to drive home convenient truths or broadcast clarion calls, even the honest filmmaker can knowingly or unknowingly impair its fertility through an indulgence in either direction – a downpour of hollow sentimentality or an arid, cerebral discourse to no avail.

Precisely why Priyanka Chhabra’s ‘Iqrarnama’ is a whiff of fresh air for the discerning viewer who otherwise clings to timeless work like M S Sathyu’s Garm Hawa (Hot Winds) or Ritwik Ghatak’s Jukti, Takko aar Gappo (Reason, Debate and Story) for fear of having to lock horns with flagrant contamination in the name of fluid imagination.   

Chhabra dexterously brings out the protagonist’s elusive detachment, which looms large despite his obvious vulnerability, without recourse to any fancy cinematic device. As you hear refugee Charandas Bangia recount his multi-hued experiences of his Lyallpur-to-Amritsar voyage, an evocative montage of key transcripts, academic certificates, employment particulars, identity cards, and animated illustrations conveys the untold, as also hints at the consciously forgotten, in as non-intrusive manner as possible. Everyday movements convey a truckload of stories - slow walks to the cupboards, the painstaking search for tattered documents tucked in shapeless plastic bags, quilt-covered, pensive faces and confused minds lost in memory lanes, giving partial anwers while munching softened biscuits dipped in tea...    

Three images left a lasting impression on my mind: 

one, a dignified lady of towering maturity talking of the need to detach one’s past such that the scions can make new beginnings; 

two, an unruffled pigeon outside the window of the protagonist’s house, a stoic surveyor and chronicler of history who has seen it all but won’t ever tell; 

and three, a little boy clinging to his refugee grandfather in the photo frame shop, sole custodian of the present eyeing the camera with innate curiosity, blissfully unaware of the disruption and mayhem of a bygone era.

More than the smart editing and nuanced direction, it is Chhabra’s genuinely probing mind that has made the documentary so relatable. Her curiosity to trace her own roots intrigued by her own “of Delhi yet not from Delhi” identity has led her gainfully astray. This wandering mind helps connect the dots, not necessarily to arrive at conclusions, but more as a look back to help look beyond. 

Aware of the innate lop-sidedness of the chosen narrative, Chhabra has beautifully incorporated the Pakistan-side of things through voice excerpts of Joginder Paul and Krishna Sobti’s enduring literature. 

As an aside, Deewane Maulvi Sahab’s “Lucknow in Karachi” recreation in Paul’s Khwabrau (Sleepwalkers) seems like a great antidote to Bahadur Shah Zafar’s lament of “Jab chhod chale Lucknow Nagari”!  

Wish Chhabra had also made room for Manto’s ‘Black Margins’ as she originally intended, which would have been a wholesome contextual inclusion. Music has been sparingly used throughout the film, which underlines the poignancy, especially the soulful number following the initial frames and the minimal background score of a haunting genre that accompanies the credits.    

More importantly, Chhabra’s work has tangentially underlined the import and enormity of reallocating land and property to refugee farmers and non-farmers in independent India, especially the herculean effort of civil servant Tarlok Singh and his ingenious use of heuristics (twin measures of standard cut and graded cut in accounting for the differing land fertility) and the new townships for traders, artisans and workers among the refugees. These were credible solutions in the aftermath of a horrendous event, notwithstanding the fact that they left many dissatisfied and even fuming, a collateral damage that India had no option but to live with.  

This film is made with a grant under the Arts Practice programme at India Foundation for the Arts (IFA), made possible with support from magnanimous donors like Illana Cariappa and Cholamandalam Investment and Finance Company.

Please extend whatever monetary help you can to this independent, nationwide, not-for-profit organisation that has been making grants and implements projects across research, practice and education in the arts and culture in India, since 1995.

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Where would you find the elephant who lent Elephanta Caves his royal name?

The stone elephant that inspired the Portuguese invaders to rename Gharapuri Islands as Elephanta Caves has been a resident of Jijamata Udyan of Byculla (formerly Victoria Garden) since 1864. It was relocated to Byculla from Gharapuri in the year 1814 during the British rule. The British reportedly made an unsuccessful attempt of transporting the majestic stone mammal to England. The elephant sustained structural injuries in transit, and hence it was repaired and installed at the current location instead.  

The stone statue boasts of a deeper legacy even prior to the sixth century Gharapuri sculptures. It was originally located on the royal port, a strategic harbor of the Deccan-based Satavahana dynasty, to the right of Gharapuri Island, as the royal emblem of the Satavahanas. 

The Satavahana regime is believed to have commenced in the late second century BCE and continued until the early third century CE as per archaeological evidence. The Satavahana kingdom spanned the regions of today’s Andhra Pradesh, Telangana, and Maharashtra, and their rule briefly extended to geographies covered by today’s Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, and Karnataka. Representation of animals was a staple feature of Satavahana art. The elephant found a place of pride on Satavahana coins, as also in the cave carvings at Karle, Bedse, Sanchi, Bhrut, and Amravati.

The Gharapuri elephant has lost much of its original frame from wear and tear, but it continues to stand tall as a resolute relic of a bygone era, watching modern-day tourist invaders of different makes and motives creating a ruckus before him in the name of homage.  

What's the fascinating legend of Mumbai's Kala Ghoda?

Today, the Kala Ghoda Festival is one of Mumbai's key annual celebratory events. The name denotes the crescent-shaped precinct between the National Gallery of Modern Art to the Mumbai University, with the Oval Maidan and the Lion Gate on its either side. The name Kala Ghoda (black horse) comes from the old equestrian statue once erected at the intersection opposite the David Sassoon Library, in memory of King Edward VII, the first prince of Wales to have visited Mumbai in 1875. 

Abdullah Sassoon (later known as Albert Sassoon) sponsored the construction of the 12 feet, 9 inch tall statue weighing 2 tons depicting King Edward VII riding a horse in a Field Marshall uniform. On its platform are dexterously carved faces of prominent personalities including Lord Northbrook, Philip Wodehouse, Sir Bartle Frere, Dosabhai Framji, Mangaldas Nathubhai, Albert Sassoon, Salar Jung and heads of provinces like Baroda, Mysore, Kutch, and Kolhapur. The sculptor was London's J E Boehm. The inauguration ceremony was held on June 26, 1879. 

However, more than the rider atop and the dignitaries at the base, it was the handsome horse that captured the imagination of Mumbai, and the name stuck despite the fact that this awesome creation was moved to the Jijamata Garden post Independence. 

King Edward VII died in 1910 but Mumbai, knowingly and unknowingly, remembers him best in the form of King Edward Memorial Hospital (now fondly known as K.E.M.) which was incepted in his memory in 1926. Ideally, it would have been more fitting to install the statue in the campus of this hospital rather than in the premises of the Jijamata Garden.

How and why is N.C.P.A's Tata theatre a unique architectural feat?

Pic courtesy: NCPA

For the Tatas, if industry is for wealth creation, wealth is for institutional development. The Tata Charitable Trust has always been known for its noble endeavors, scrupulous impartiality, professional conduct, and visionary management. 

Four world-class institutions of Mumbai were born out of the Tata's visionary philanthropy: Tata Institute of Fundamental Research, Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Tata Memorial Hospital and NCPA & Tata Theater. In the context of the last-mentioned, J.R.D. Tata famously remarked, "We asked for a piece of land, we were given a piece of water." 

Though Tata Theatre appears as one big structure from the outside, it actually stands on two different rocks that were once submerged in sea. Constructing a structure on a land reclaimed from the sea is invariably an expensive proposition. A high-grade construction adhesive called Mastic was used to ensure the building's sturdiness. A brainchild of a dynamic duo - celebrated American architect Philip Johnson and renowned acoustician Cyril Harris - this revolving theatre can accommodate 1,010 spectators. Thanks to the brilliant acoustics, sound is evenly spread throughout the auditorium without the aid of any electronic device. 

Thanks to the legendary Tata penchant for flawless creations, this structure has raised the bar for the construction industry worldwide. Another key factor that made such a high-priced project possible was the abundant availability (and astute deployment of) low-cost skilled labour in India.

What's the deep connect between Suez Canal and Mumbai?

When the artificial sea-level waterway, Suez Canal, was being constructed (1858-1869), France had dominant control over it. Not surprisingly, England had then vociferously opposed the construction. But later in 1875, sensing a great opportunity, England gained control of the canal, conveniently going against its original stance in the process. 

But this twist in the tale opened the floodgates of prosperity for Mumbai. 

How? 

The earlier detour from Africa had placed the distance between Mumbai and London at 17,700 km, the Suez brought it down to 11,200 km. This meant now the travel time between London and Mumbai was now a mere 25 days which reduced even more with the passage of time. On the old route, London-Mumbai and London-Calcutta (Kolkata) were equidistant, now the Suez got Mumbai closer. 

This proximity to London spelt rich rewards for Mumbai - employment opportunities zoomed, textile mills mushroomed, and Mumbai soon became India's premier city. Later, when the canal's depth was extended, a dock for the bigger motorboats was built in Mumbai: the Alexandra Dock (now rechristened Indira Dock) 

Beyond doubt, Mumbai owes a lot to the great canal that connects the Mediterranean Sea with the Red Sea through the Isthmus of Suez, and separates the African continent from Asia. 

Which are the Mumbai landmarks with native names that sound European to the ear?

Apollo Bunder (now renamed Wellington Pier) has little to do with the Greek-Roman God Apollo. Some scholars say it's a corrupt form of the local word 'Padav' (last leg of journey) although it seems more closer to the word 'Pala' (Hilsa fish) as per another theory which concludes that it was named after the Pala fish which was unloaded daily at this place. 

Antop Hill is a translation of 'Antobachi Tekdi' (Antoba's Hill), named after its erstwhile owner Antoba who was a koli (fisherman). 

Charni Road is not a tribute to some English officer Charni as many believe. The place was a 'Charni' (a place where straw is stocked as cattle feed) and hence the name. 

Gunbav Street in Fort was originally 'Gambasheth rasta', named after Gambasheth, a money lender, and the grandfather of the great philanthropist and educationist Jagannath Shankersheth. 

The Cooperage ground was christened by the Parsi community. 'Cooper' is one who makes and repairs casks and barrels and this place was infested with such repair shops. 

Breach Candy is believed to be a corrupt form of the Hindi-Arabic word 'Burj Khadi'. Some theorists believe Candy is the Anglicized version of the local word Khind (narrow opening) - the one between Malabar Hill and Cumbala Hill. The word Cumbala in turn comes from the native word 'Khamb Aalya'

What is the history lurking behind India's first motion picture triumph staged in Mumbai?

We all know and revere Dadasaheb Phalke's Raja Harishchandra (1913) as India's first feature film. However, a silent film called Shree Pundalik had already been released in Mumbai on May 18 of the prior year as per noted researcher Manohar Purandare. 

The shooting script for Pundalik was written by R. B. Kirtikar, and the film was jointly produced by Nanabhai Chitre and Ramchandra Torne. The trio also featured in the film as actors. A Delhi-based film distributor P. R. Tipnis and an amateur theatre club called Patankar Friends & Company also lent invaluable support. 

Camera and other equipment were sourced from the Mumbai office of the Bourne and Shepherd film company, and the film was shot in a by lane called Do Hatti (Two Elephants) on Lamington road, which is today a popular grey market for electronic goods and peripherals. The exact shoot location in Mangalwadi compound later housed the famous Naaz Cinema. 

Pundalik ran successfully for two weeks at the Coronation cinema of Girgaum and was subsequently released in other theatres where it failed to draw enough crowds. In another tragedy, the sole print was destroyed in a fire. The producers went broke and Kirtikar suffered huge financial losses. Worse, these pioneers of cinema didn't find any mention in the annals of Indian cinema. 

A few critics believe Pundalik cannot be regarded as a film as it was a photographic recording of a musical play based on the life and times of a Marathi saint, nor can it be hailed as an Indian film given that the cameraman Johnson was a British national, and that the film was processed in England. 

Notwithstanding what the critics believe, this surely seemed like a sincere attempt at film making which deserves rich accolades, at least in hindsight. 

Note the precise and purposeful advertisement of the film (in the picture above) - way more effective than the commotion of modern-day Bollywood movie makers, all in the name of promotion.       

What is the magnetic charm of Mumbai’s Colaba Observatory?

Built in 1826 by the East India Company, the Colaba Observatory (formerly Bombay Observatory) has endured several structural changes over time, but its defining tower is still intact. The Directorate bungalow in the premises is an architectural wonder. This observatory, India’s oldest, houses some of the earliest and most intricate magnetic observations. Till 1840, it used to be an astronomical observatory after which it was transformed into a magnetic and meteorological observatory. The history of this place has been defined by the history of the men at its helm spanning various time zones. 

Arthur Bedford Orlebar, who taught Astronomy at Bombay’s Elphinstone College, was the institution’s first director to record geomagnetism and meteorological observations. The observatory earned high accolades during the directorship of Charles Chambers (1834–1896), thanks to his scientific acumen and astute interpretation of the intricate physics behind the geomagnetic mechanisms. No wonder, he was later inducted as a Fellow of the Royal Society.  

The untimely demise of Chambers saw Nanabhoy Ardeshir Framji Moos become the first Indian director of the observatory in 1896. Moos had an engineering degree from Poona, as also a Science degree from Edinburgh, Scotland. Seismological observations were introduced during his tenure. 

1900 turned out to be a milestone year for Mumbai when horse-drawn trams made way for electricity-powered transportation. As the electromagnetic noise of the electric trams was prone to corrupt observatory data, Moos shifted base to Alibag, a small but strategically located town 30 km south-east of Mumbai, a perfect venue not too far and not too near. 

The transition to the new place was an elaborate exercise spanning two years (1904 to 1906) to ensure 100 percent feasibility. Under the exemplary stewardship of Moos, the Alibag structure was set up in record time using carefully chosen, non-magnetic, Porbandar sandstone, and a well equipped magnetic recording room with fool-proof insulation. 

Among his several accomplishments is an incisive two-volume summary of key observatory findings titled ‘Magnetic observations made at the Government Observatory, Bombay for the period 1846–1905. Parts I. and II’ which is regarded as the most comprehensive and definitive guide to the essence and significance of geomagnetic research.

What makes radical humanist M. N. Roy's tryst with Mumbai truly remarkable?

Following his ideological differences with the Communist International or the Comintern, Manvendra Nath Roy or M. N. Roy (originally Narendra Bhattacharya) left Europe and discreetly returned to India. He landed in Mumbai in November 1930 and stayed at the Theosophical Colony in Juhu under the alias 'Dr. Mahmood'. Soon after, he began imparting lessons in Marxism for the youth of Mumbai, and those dejected with the Gandhi-Irwin pact made a beeline for these lectures. 

'Dr. Mahmood' also frequented the Girangaon area of Mumbai and addressed many a labour gathering there. Some members among the audience, during one such stimulating talk held near the French Bridge, suspected that 'Dr. Mahmood' must be the same person 'found missing' in Europe. The police kept a close watch on his movements thereafter. 

Roy then joined the Congress movement under the alias 'Banerjee' but he was arrested on July 21, 1931 at Byculla. When he was eventually released in 1936, he was felicitated in Mumbai on December 6 of the same year. His registered marriage with Ellen Gottschalk on March 10, 1937 also happened in Mumbai. 

From 1938 till his death in 1954, Roy checked in at Jamshedji Wadia's bungalow in Parel whenever he toured Mumbai. The first edition of his journal "Independent India" (later renamed as "Radical Humanist") was also released in Mumbai on April 4, 1937. When Roy formed the Radical Democratic party on December 20, 1940, the venue was again Mumbai. Such was his circumstantial yet celestial bonding with the historic city of Bombay.

Roy toured across the globe extensively for the sake of his vision, mission, and values and finally settled in Dehradun for sixteen years until his demise in 1954. His former Doon residence is fondly called "Humanist Home" in his everlasting memory. To know more about him in chronicle form, please refer to this one-of-a-kind treasure trove:  

https://sreenivasaraos.com/2016/01/12/mn-roy-brief-outline-of-life-events-and-thoughts-part-02/

Who was Jagannath Shankarshet?

Jagannath Shankarshet Murkute, fondly known as Nana Shankarshet, was born in 1803 to Brahmin parents hailing from Murbad village in Thane district. The responsibility of managing a highly lucrative money lending business in Bombay fell on his shoulders at a fairly young age, following the untimely demise of his father. As a Marathi, English and Sanskrit scholar blessed with consummate business acumen, he not only excelled in business and education but also raised the benchmark for purposeful philanthropy.    

Taking inspiration from Sir Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy, he resolved to do his best for the larger cause of education. Here’s a snapshot of his glittering contributions:

·       Helped Scottish statesman Mountstuart Elphinstone and English & Sanskrit scholar S. K. Chatre to open the Haind School in 1822, which was later rechristened as the Bombay Native Education Society

·       Incepted and sponsored the Students Literary and Scientific Society (1848) and Girls’ School (1849); first-grade Anglo-vernacular School (1857); Law College (1855);  Grant Medical College and its Marathi wing

·       Long standing member of the Board of Education incepted in 1841, President, Agri-Horticultural Society of Western India, and Geographical Society

·       Founder, The Bombay Association, 1852

·       Proactive contribution towards setting up two iconic institutions of Mumbai: Sir J. J. School of Art and J. J. Hospital

·       As the Municipal Commissioner, boosted healthcare services, initiated water conservation projects, sponsored efforts in the fields of Gas production and steam navigation, and helped build theatre auditoriums and crematoriums.

·       Made hefty donations to esteemed organizations like the Mumbai branch of The Royal Asiatic Society, Victoria & Albert Museum, and Jijamata Garden.  

One of his most exemplary initiatives merits a detailed elaboration (courtesy of Shankarsheth Pratishthan).

Ever since he came to know about the Liverpool–Manchester railway line that was inaugurated in 1830, Nana yearned to see a similar initiative rolled out in his native city. He shared his dream with Jamsetjee and Sir Thomas and Supreme Court Judge Sir Thomas Erskine Perry. The latter had first hand experience of the railway rides in England. Both were hooked on to the idea, and together the trio formed the Great Indian Railway company with the help of likeminded people including British bankers, traders, and government officials. The company then proposed the idea of the Railway to the government on July 13, 1844.

The Inland Railway Association was subsequently formed which prepared the initial blueprint of the proposed line. Soon after, the ‘Bombay Committee’ was set up and an expert named George Thomas Clark was appointed to study the potential routes. En route his visit to the estate of Kawasji Banaji, Clark reckoned Bhandup would be an ideal point for the extending the proposed line originating from the Bombay Port. He instantly prepared the technical plan for the proposed Kurla–Thane line in a way that would cause no damage to the salt pans of Sion. He named it “The Bombay Great Eastern Railway” and envisioned two trains running daily on two lines – Up and Down - at a speed of 10 mph.

Meanwhile, British capitalists got wind of these plans and quickly incepted the Great Indian Peninsular Railway in London and deputed engineer John Chapman to take charge of its Bombay Branch. Chapman met Nana and the two unanimously thought that the parallel efforts to build the railway line should be merged under one umbrella for lasting outcomes. Soon after, the Court of Directors of the East India company approved the 35 km Mumbai-Kalyan rail route in July 1848. In the first phase, the 21 mile long Mumbai–Thane route was finalised. It may be noted that the Court of Directors had initially dismissed the whole idea as unthinkable.

In February 1850, renowned English engineers and other staffers came to Bombay, and Nana allotted them office space in the vicinity of his Girgaon bungalow. The survey, planning, and allied work took an year and the laying of tracks commenced on October 31, 1850. The trial run happened on February 18, 1852 and finally on the historic day of April 16, 1853, the first train of the entire Asian subcontinent left for Thane from Boribunder station amid great fanfare at sharp 3.30 pm. The flower-laden wonder-on-wheels had 18 compartments and three locomotive engines. Among the venerated dignitaries on board were Lady Falkland (wife of Governor Falkland), Nana, and Sir Jamsetjee. Nana’s foresight and painstaking efforts thus made Bombay the epicentre of a momentous rail action, although Bombay was not the capital city of British India. This was a key  development in the subsequent rise and fame of the metropolis as India’s industrial and financial capital.         

Jagannath Shankarsheth breathed his last on 31 July 1865. The Asiatic Society of Bombay houses a marble statue of the towering leader, a junction in Grant Road is named after him, and a postal stamp has been dedicated to his memory. The sad fact, however, is that he is largely forgotten in the very city he helped build, brick by brick. Thankfully, his memory is aptly revived each year in the form of the Jagannath Shankarsheth scholarship awarded to the Sanskrit topper in the matriculation examination.