My journey into the heart of Sikhism began on my sixteenth birthday. We were in Amritsar for my grandparents’ eye surgery, and amid the hospital routines, I found myself stepping into the Golden Temple for the very first time—a place of unmatched beauty, history, and spirit. From the moment I entered, I was enveloped by an energy that seemed to resonate from its walls—a hum of devotion that made me feel as though I was stepping into something timeless.

At dawn, Harmandir Sahib’s golden reflection shimmered over the still waters of the sarovar, the sacred pool encircling the temple. With each step closer, the air seemed alive with the sound of Ik Onkar—“There is only One God”—the opening words of Sikh scripture. This chant, both simple and profound, filled me with a strength and calm I had never experienced before. As verses from the Guru Granth Sahib, Sikhism’s holy text, floated through the temple, they carried an invisible energy that seemed to settle over the crowd like a silent blessing of unity.

As night fell, the Golden Temple transformed once again, standing illuminated under the stars like an ethereal beacon. Its quiet radiance against the darkness was breathtaking. Holding the warm, sweet karah prasad, I felt as though I was holding a small piece of this sacred place—a connection, a blessing wrapped in simplicity.

Years later, after the pandemic, my family and I took a trip to Manali to escape the summer heat and reconnect with nature. During our visit, we stopped by the Gurudwara at Manikaran, nestled alongside the Parvati River and known for its natural hot springs. From the moment I stepped inside, I felt a different kind of energy—equally powerful yet distinctively alive, as though the very air pulsed with positivity. After bathing in the sulfur springs, believed to have healing properties, we entered the Gurudwara for prayer. That day, seva became a shared family act as we washed utensils in preparation for the next langar. Each scrub and rinse felt like a grounding reminder of humility, service, and gratitude. Later, sharing a meal of dal, chapati, and tea, I was struck by the warmth and unity in every bite—a reflection of the Gurudwara’s spirit.

Around this time, my close friend Raman, a devoted Sikh, shared her experience of visiting Kartarpur in Pakistan—a pilgrimage to a Gurudwara deeply rooted in Sikh history. Kartarpur, Guru Nanak’s final resting place, holds immense spiritual significance. For Raman, the journey was not just physical but profoundly spiritual. “There’s no place as peaceful,” she told me. “It felt as if I could sense his presence in every corner.” Her words painted a vivid picture of how sacred sites like Kartarpur bridge time and borders, offering a connection to history, culture, and identity that feels deeply personal.

In June 2022, I had another unforgettable encounter with Sikhism at Gurudwara Pathar Sahib in Leh. Set against the dramatic, snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas, the Gurudwara stands as a symbol of resilience and faith. According to legend, Guru Nanak meditated here, even as a demon attempted to harm him by hurling a massive stone, which miraculously softened, leaving the Guru’s impression upon it. Seeing that enduring mark was a powerful moment, a reminder of spiritual strength and protection even in the harshest of landscapes.

Last year, I found myself at yet another Gurudwara—this time in Columbus, Ohio. Thousands of miles from Amritsar, I felt the same devotion, humility, and sense of community. From the familiar hymns to the practice of covering our heads in respect, the traditions held firm. Here, even in a foreign land, the Sikh community preserved its roots, creating a space that felt like a home away from home—a sanctuary of strength and comfort that transcended geographical boundaries.

These experiences—from the Golden Temple to Pathar Sahib, from Manikaran to Columbus—have shown me that Gurudwaras are much more than places of worship. They are sanctuaries of seva (selfless service), equality, and unity, welcoming people from all backgrounds and beliefs. The words Ik Onkar and the hymns of the Guru Granth Sahib serve as timeless reminders of our interconnectedness, conveying messages of love, humility, and compassion.

Each visit has added a new thread to the tapestry of peace and strength within me, revealing the universality of Sikhism’s values. Whether through the humble offering of prasad, the sacred waters of the sarovar, or the shared experience of langar, Gurudwaras create spaces of belonging and resilience. They connect me to my roots, my faith, and a world that feels just a little closer with every step.

Author’s note

Saumya Sachan

She is a budding writer. Homesickness fuels her creativity, and when she is not immersed in the tech world, she finds joy in dancing and devouring books. She considers writing as her sanctuary, a means of reconnecting with the warmth of home, offering escape and catharsis in a world of words.

In the mystical realm of Sufi poetry, where words dance with divine love and verses echo through centuries, stands the towering figure of Bulleh Shah – a poet whose work continues to captivate hearts and minds across generations.

Picture this: In 18th-century Punjab, a young man born into a family of religious scholars makes an unconventional choice that would scandalize his community. This was Bulleh Shah, son of a struggling Paish Imam, who chose to become the disciple of Shah Inayat Qadiri – a spiritual guide from the Arain tribe, considered lower in the social hierarchy. This decision wasn’t just a rebellion; it was a declaration of love that would shape one of the most profound poetic legacies in Sufi literature.

What makes Bulleh Shah’s poetry resonate even today? Perhaps it’s the way he weaves complex spiritual truths into simple, heartfelt verses. His work in the Kafi form – a classical Sufi style of poetry – speaks of love, loss, and longing in ways that transcend religious and social boundaries.

Consider these powerful lines:

“Zeher vekh ke peeta te ki peeta, Ishq Soch ke keeta te ki keeta, Dil de ke dil layein di ass rakhi ve bulleya, Pyaar vi laalach naal keeta te ki keta”

(“What use is drinking poison by seeing, What use is love if done by thinking? After giving the heart, I kept the hope of getting the heart oh Bulleya! What use is love done with greed?”)

The profound influence of Bulleh Shah’s poetry in contemporary cinema is beautifully exemplified in “Ae Dil Hai Mushkil.” The film traces the story of Ayan, an aspiring musician searching for true love, whose unrequited feelings for Alizeh lead him into a state of melancholic creativity. The song “Bulleya” becomes his emotional outlet, with lyrics that cleverly invoke two great romantic figures – Ranjha, the legendary lover from Heer-Ranjha, and Bulleh Shah himself. When Ayan sings “Raanjhan de yaar Bulleya” (Friend of Ranjha, Bulleya!), the lyrics establish Bulleh Shah as a friend and savior of lovers. The song’s structure follows the classical Kafi form, with its characteristic repetitive patterns: “raanjhan de yaar bulleya, sun le pukaar bulleya, tu hi to yaar bulleya.” This repetition, alongside the profound yearning in lines like “Tu hi to yaar bulleya, murshid mera, murshid mera” (You are my friend Bulleya, my guide, my teacher), echoes the spiritual-romantic duality that characterized Bulleh Shah’s original works.

The song “Bulleya” from the film “Sultan” offers another contemporary interpretation of Bulleh Shah’s spiritual legacy. The song captures the essence of self-discovery and rebellion against societal norms – themes that were central to Bulleh Shah’s teachings. Drawing direct inspiration from the 18th-century poet’s philosophy, the lyrics express dedication and surrender to love that mirror Bulleh Shah’s devotion to his spiritual guide. The song’s protagonist declares, “Tu bole toh main ban jaaun, Main Bulleh Shah saudai, Main bhi naachun” (If you say, I shall become crazy like Bulleh Shah, I shall dance), referencing the famous story of Bulleh Shah’s complete surrender to his spiritual guide, for whom he was willing to dance wearing female attire. This modern interpretation preserves the core message of Bulleh Shah’s teachings – that true love requires complete submission and transcendence of social conventions.

These verses aren’t just poetry; they’re a spiritual manual for the heart, teaching us that true love – divine or human – cannot be calculated or measured. In today’s world of division and discord, Bulleh Shah’s message feels more relevant than ever. His poetry speaks to anyone who has ever loved, lost, questioned, or sought meaning. Whether it’s through traditional Sufi music or modern film soundtracks, his words continue to break barriers and build bridges. At its core, Bulleh Shah’s work embodies the essence of Sufi philosophy – the idea that love is the ultimate path to truth. His poetry isn’t just about the love between humans or even between humans and the divine; it’s about breaking down the barriers that prevent us from seeing the unity in all existence.

In an age where we’re increasingly divided by religion, class, and ideology, Bulleh Shah’s poetry offers a powerful alternative. His verses remind us that beneath our superficial differences lies a common humanity, bound together by love and the search for meaning.

As we trace his legacy across centuries, we find that Bulleh Shah wasn’t just a poet or a mystic – he was a revolutionary who used love as his weapon and poetry as his medium. His words continue to challenge, inspire, and transform, proving that true wisdom knows no boundaries of time or culture.

In the end, perhaps that’s Bulleh Shah’s greatest gift – the reminder that in a world of chaos and division, love remains the ultimate truth, and poetry is its most beautiful expression.

Author’s note:

Bianca Sood

A passionate storyteller, she channels life’s chaos into artful prose. When not weaving tales, she finds solace in nature and a love for painting. Writing is her haven, a bridge between the tangible and the imagined, where every word feels like a step closer to understanding herself and the world.

Growing up, the world of folklore was an integral part of my life, woven into the very fabric of my childhood. Every year, my grandparents would visit us during Diwali, and with them, they would bring stories as bright and enchanting as the festival lights themselves. After the excitement of bursting firecrackers and indulging in sweets, we would gather around them as they shared tales from the Ramayana. My dadi’s voice, filled with reverence and wisdom, would transport us to the mythical world of Rama, Sita, and Hanuman.

Each year, she would bring a new perspective to the stories. One year would be the tale of Hanuman’s undying devotion as he carried the mountain of herbs to save Lakshmana. Another time, she would tell us about Sita’s unwavering strength and resilience in adversity. I remember how she would pause and smile, her eyes twinkling as she recounted the naughty exploits of young Shri Krishna during Janmashtami. “You kids are no less, always up to something!” she’d say, and we would giggle, imagining Krishna stealing butter, much like how we sneaked sweets when no one was looking.

These stories were more than bedtime tales; they were lessons in righteousness, virtue, and staying true to one’s beliefs. They connected us to a distant yet familiar past, teaching us about courage, faith, and resilience—lessons that have stayed with me long after the stories faded into memory.

As I grew older, these narratives took on new forms. In school, we were introduced to the poem “Maharana Pratap ka Ghoda,” a tribute to Chetak, the loyal steed of the great Rajput king. I still remember the vivid descriptions of Chetak galloping on, even with a fatal wound, carrying his master to safety. It wasn’t just a poem; it was a story of unparalleled bravery and loyalty, values that were ingrained in us through these verses. Those lines painted vivid pictures of legendary battles fought on the rugged terrain of Rajasthan, of kings and their loyal companions who became immortal through such stories. It was my first taste of how folklore can shape our understanding of valor and sacrifice.

Festivals like Holi brought yet another layer to this colorful tapestry of stories. Every year, as we prepared for the festival of colors, my dadu would sit us down and recount the story of Prahlad and Holika. He would describe the fierce devotion of young Prahlad, who refused to abandon his faith in Lord Vishnu, even when his father tried to kill him. “Faith and goodness will always triumph over evil,” he would say, as we listened, wide-eyed and mesmerized. Later, as we played with colors, I would think of Prahlad and feel a little braver, a little more assured that good would always prevail, no matter how dark things seemed.

One of the most memorable experiences from my childhood was when my nani took me to see the Ram Leela. I must have been around ten or twelve years old. It was an all-night affair, and we were buzzing with excitement. We spent the day resting, our anticipation building as the sunset. By 9 PM, we were dressed in full-sleeved clothes to ward off the mosquitoes, Odomos smeared on our arms, and floor mats rolled up under our arms. That night, I was captivated as I sat under the starry sky, watching the actors perform on a makeshift stage.

It was the first time I saw a live performance of the Ramayana, and I was enthralled. I still recall the scene where Ravana was abducting Sita. But instead of the Pushpak Viman, the actor playing Ravana rode a bicycle. The audience erupted in laughter, and I remember giggling uncontrollably, even as I felt the moment’s tension. Then came the dramatic entrance of Jatayu, the vulture, who tried to stop Ravana. The actor playing Jatayu flapped his makeshift wings and stumbled, and the audience was in splits. It was a mix of reverence and hilarity that only a small-town Ram Leela could achieve, and it left an indelible mark on my memory.

Years later in 2010, I experienced something similar but in a more rural setting during Navratri. We had gone to our village, and the streets were lined with Jhankis, depicting scenes from the epics. Young boys and girls, no older than fifteen, were dressed as deities, sitting on chariots adorned with flowers and lights. One of them, dressed as Krishna, was busy pretending to eat butter, his face smeared with a white paste. Another, dressed as Hanuman, was enacting the scene where he rips open his chest to reveal the image of Rama and Sita in his heart. It was surreal, watching these kids embodying the gods with such innocence and dedication, while the villagers looked on in awe, whispering prayers under their breath. It was a different kind of magic, a reminder that these stories lived on, not just in books or memories, but in the hearts and imaginations of the people.

Not all stories were about gods and heroes. Sometimes, they delved into the supernatural and the eerie. My grandmother often recounted tales of spirits and possessions, stories that sent shivers down my spine. It was one thing to hear them from the comfort of our home, but witnessing it firsthand at Mehandipur Balaji was a completely different experience. I saw people possessed by spirits, their bodies writhing, and their voices changing during the aarti. It was both terrifying and fascinating, providing a glimpse into a world beyond the tangible, where faith and fear intertwined.

In recent years, folklore has gained renewed popularity in popular culture. Movies like “Stree” and its sequel “Stree 2” have brought these narratives to the big screen. Inspired by the legend of Nale Ba from Karnataka, the films tell the story of a spirit who would knock on doors at night, abducting anyone who opened them. To ward her off, people wrote “O Stree, kal aana” on their doors, asking her to come back the next day. It’s a chilling tale, one that perfectly blends horror and humor, much like the stories we grew up hearing. Watching these movies brought back memories of those nights spent listening to my grandmother’s stories, the thrill of the unknown mixed with the comfort of the familiar.

Indian folklore reflects the country’s diverse cultural landscape, providing insights into the values, beliefs, and everyday life of its people over thousands of years. These stories, legends, myths, and traditions form a rich and varied tapestry, deeply intertwined with India’s religious, social, and cultural fabric. Passed down orally for centuries, they have endured the test of time, evolving with each retelling while preserving their fundamental essence. They are not merely tales, but a way of life, a means to connect with our history, and a way to uphold our customs.

I want to pass down these stories to my children and grandchildren one day. Stories teach moral lessons and values, bridging the past and present. I want my children to feel the same excitement and wonder I felt and understand that they are part of something much larger.

“It is through these stories that we remember who we are, where we come from, and what we stand for. They connect us to our roots, to our grandparents, and to the countless generations that came before us. They are a reminder that no matter how modern or disconnected we become, the magic of folklore will always be there, whispering to us through the voices of our elders, waiting to be rediscovered, retold, and relived.”

Author’s note:

Saumya Sachan

She is a budding writer. Homesickness fuels her creativity, and when she is not immersed in the tech world, she finds joy in dancing and devouring books. She considers writing as her sanctuary, a means of reconnecting with the warmth of home, offering escape and catharsis in a world of words.

India is home to myriads of castes and tribes, with their distinct religion, languages, customs, rituals, and traditions, making India a diverse treasure trove of different cultures. Each of these groups has its folklore and legends which add a unique tint to India’s rich cultural tapestry.

Folklore is a collective term that refers to the traditions and cultural expressions of a particular community or group of people, passed down over several generations. It can be categorized into three main aspects – verbal folklore (songs, ballads, proverbs, rhyme), customary folklore (rituals and customs practiced by a specific group), and material culture (folk art, architecture, traditional handicrafts, artifacts). Legends differ from folklore in the sense that the former are semi-historical. Legends are based on historical facts (with the addition of a few fictional details) and revolve around the narrative of a popular figure, event, or place. Both legends and folktales play a significant role in preserving the social and cultural values of a bygone era and often teach moral lessons to the present and future generations.

Folktales like the Panchatantra, Hitopadesha stories, or Jataka tales have been popular in the subcontinent since ancient times. Even before these stories were written down, they were transmitted orally, mostly by bards, who traveled from one village to another, narrating these tales. Apart from national folk heroes, such as Lord Krishna, local folklores often revolve around the cult of a local or folk (or tribal) deity. In Bengal, one of how much folklore and local legends manifested themselves was in the form of Mangalkavyas (“poems of benediction”). The Manasamangal and Sitalamangal are two examples of Mangalkavyas dedicated to the folk goddesses – Manasa devi and Sitala devi respectively.

The Story of Manasa Devi

Among the non-Aryan female deities who found acceptance in the Brahmanical Hindu pantheon, the Goddess of Snakes – Manasa Devi is arguably the most powerful and revered. Despite being the daughter of Lord Shiva, she was not readily accepted as a goddess since her birth was unintentional. She also did not share a cordial relationship with her stepmother Goddess Bhagavati or Parvati, and therefore, decided to reside on earth. Her legend begins with the narrative of an affluent merchant named Chand Sadagar. She tried to influence him to worship her but being an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva, he refused to accept the goddess’s authority.

In a fit of rage, the goddess sunk his merchant ships at sea. His seven sons also died of snake bite, however, he remained firm in his decision to not accept her suzerainty. Behula, the wife of Lakshindar, Chand’s youngest son, was adamant about bringing her husband back to life. She set out on a tumultuous journey with her husband’s dead body and underwent severe hardships. Behula’s sincere devotion succeeded in pleasing the goddess, who also agreed to bring Lakhindar back to life on the condition that Chand Sadagar would worship her. Eventually, he had to give in but turned his face away from the goddess’s image and offered her a flower with his left hand. The goddess restored Chand’s fortunes and thereafter, the cult of Goddess Manasa came to be established in the society.

This legend is more than a tale of Chand Sadagar’s pride and the vengeance of the fierce goddess – it can be termed as a sociological drama that effectively depicts the clash for supremacy between Brahmanical Hinduism and the local, non-Aryan cults that were going on in the contemporary era. Chand Sadagar represents the upper-class Hindu patriarch who worshipped Lord Shiva, a Vedic god, and his patriarchal arrogance is reflected in his rejection of the admittance of a tribal deity in mainstream Hinduism dominated by the Brahmans (priests). However, the goddess’s ultimate acceptance in Sanskritised Hinduism portrays the popularity of her cult. The goddess’s selection of Chand Sadagar as her first worshipper is also symbolic of the growing power and prosperity of the merchant class; if an influential and opulent merchant worshipped a folk deity it would be easier for her to be accepted by the common masses who would emulate the upper-class figure (perhaps to gain social mobility). The tension in the relationship between Goddess Bhagavati and Goddess Manasa also portrays the societal conditions of that age and the bitterness in the relationship between a stepmother and her step-children.

The Legend of Sitala Devi

Another popular (but minor) Mangalkavya is the Sitalamangal which revolves around the legend of the folk deity Sitala – the goddess of smallpox, who also bestows fortune and looks after the welfare of children. Her origin traces its roots back to Vajrayana Buddhism but she later became a deity of Hinduism. The Savara caste of South Bengal initially worshiped Goddess Sitala but her cult gradually expanded and came to be popularised in both villages and cities.

As the goddess was born from cooled ashes, she is cool by nature and constantly seeks coolness. If she gets heated she also heats others and destroys their children or attacks them with the dreaded pox. One of the legends of the goddess narrates a story of how a farmer’s son and a king’s son were suffering from pox but the farmer being a devotee of Goddess Sitala, maintained cleanliness in his house and served cold food to his son, who was cured quickly. Meanwhile, the king’s son was served hot and spicy food every day and as a result, his condition got worse. On hearing of the recovery of the farmer’s son, the king wondered why the goddess had been so unfair to his family. One night the goddess appeared in his dream and advised him not to eat any cooked and spicy food and offer cold food to her and his son. He had this dream on the seventh of Chaitra’s Krishna paksha (dark half) and ordered everyone to worship Goddess Sitala on the eighth day with cold food offerings. The prince’s condition also improved and he was completely cured after a while.

This story highlights the cultural practices and religious beliefs of the society at the time of its composition. Goddess Sitala has been portrayed as both a protector and punisher, which again is symbolic of the ambivalence of nature which can either create or destroy. Through this legend, the practice of eating cold food during the hot season has been taught among the common people to prevent the chances of getting attacked by pox. This narrative also reflects how the worship of local deities was a deeply intertwined practice in the daily lives of the community, and that the spread of epidemic diseases was associated with divine will. However, the people not only sought blessings from deities for health, prosperity, and protection from diseases but also followed a scientific method of taking care of the patients, which would allow them to heal faster.

Therefore, it is evident that Mangalkavyas not only narrates the stories of the process of integration of tribal or folk deities into Sankritised Brahmanical Hinduism but also mirrors the social conditions of the age they were composed in.

Reference

https://www.momentslog.com/culture/indian-folklore-myths-tales-and-regional-legends#the-orighttps://people.howstuffworks.com/what-is-folklore.htm.

https://rupkatha.com/the-sitala-saga/.

https://www.indianetzone.com/manasa_hindu_goddess_snakes.

https://storyarcadia.com/the-significance-of-legends-preserving-cultural-heritage-and-moral-lessons/.

Author’s note:

Deepasree Dey

She is a dedicated postgraduate student specializing in History (Hons.) at Presidency University, Kolkata. From a young age, she has been captivated by the fascinating narratives of India’s history. She is particularly interested in exploring the diverse cultural traditions of India, including the rich tapestry of folklore and legends found in various communities. Through her role at India Lost and Found (ILF), Deepasree aspires to contribute to the preservation of India’s cultural heritage while uncovering and sharing the many untold stories that enrich the nation’s identity.

Have you ever noticed how a single scent can pull you back to a moment, a place, or a feeling long gone but never forgotten? For me, the scents of India are like old friends—familiar, comforting, and always ready to wrap me in a warm embrace. As I sit here, sipping my morning tea, I’m reminded of a journey through the symphony of scents that have shaped my life and memories, taking me from the warmth of home to the sacred spaces of prayer, and the vibrant streets of my childhood.

It all begins in my mother’s kitchen, the heart of our home. I would wake up to the rhythmic sounds of her preparing breakfast, the aroma of dal frying in the pan heralding the start of the day. When mustard seeds hit the hot oil, they would crackle and pop, releasing a sharp, nutty fragrance that filled the room. Soon, cumin and asafoetida would join in, their earthy and pungent scents mingling to create a fragrance that felt like a warm, reassuring hug. Even now, whenever I catch a whiff of that familiar tadka, I’m instantly transported back to those mornings, surrounded by the comfort of home and the love that comes with every meal. As the day moved on, we would often plan a family outing to Sagar Ratna, a restaurant in Lucknow. The anticipation would build as we neared the restaurant, knowing that soon we would be savoring the delightful dosas that Sagar Ratna is known for. I still remember standing outside, waiting for our order, the smell of dosa cooking on the grill wafting through the air. The crisp, golden batter sizzled and hissed, its toasty aroma blending with the tangy scent of sambar bubbling nearby. The anticipation was almost as delicious as the meal itself—a reminder of the simple joys of sharing food with family, where the scent of the dosa brought us together.

And then, there was the afternoon adrak chai, a ritual in its own right during my days in IT, in Bengaluru. This wasn’t just any tea; it was a much-needed break, a stress buster, and the perfect excuse for a bit of gossip among colleagues. The chaiwala at the corner of our office street knew how we liked it. The sharp, invigorating fragrance of ginger boiling in water would drift up as I approached, mingling with the sweet notes of cardamom and the rich, earthy aroma of tea leaves. As I wrapped my hands around the steaming cup, I felt the warmth spread through me, each sips a small celebration of the familiar comfort that marked the transition from day to evening. But, the world beyond my home was just as rich in scents that carried their own stories. On special occasions, we would visit the Phool Wali Gali in Lucknow. The narrow lane, bustling with life, was a sensory feast. The scent of marigolds—bright, sweet, and slightly peppery—mingled with the delicate perfume of jasmine and the soft, romantic aroma of roses. Each step through the market was like walking through a living painting, where every breath drew me deeper into the world of tradition and celebration.

Holi was another time when the air was thick with unforgettable scents. The day would begin with the sharp, almost metallic smell of gulaal as it filled the air, turning everything around us into a riot of color. But it was the sweet aroma of gujiyas frying in ghee that truly signaled the arrival of the festival. The scent would waft through the streets, drawing us all into the heart of the celebration. Even now, the smell of frying gujiyas instantly brings back memories of laughter, music, and the sheer joy of being surrounded by family and friends. As the day passed to evening, the scents of celebration would often be replaced by the more serene, spiritual fragrances that marked our family’s rituals. I remember the evenings spent in quiet prayer, the smell of chandan dhoop filling the air as my father led the hawan. The first curl of smoke would rise slowly, carrying with it the warm, woody fragrance of sandalwood. It was a scent that brought peace and connection, a reminder of the divine presence in our everyday lives.

One of my most cherished memories is of visiting Haji Ali Dargah, in Mumbai with my family. The journey there was always filled with anticipation, and as we approached, the scent of the phool wali chadar would reach us before we even saw the dargah. The air was thick with the fragrance of roses and jasmine, mingling with the salty breeze from the sea. That scent wasn’t just an offering—it was a reminder of the devotion and reverence that brought us to that sacred place. It lingered long after we left, a gentle whisper of peace and spirituality that stayed with me, even as we returned to the bustling life of the city. Even in the simple, everyday moments, some scents became markers of time and place. The press wale bhaiya would come every morning to press our clothes, his old-fashioned iron filled with smoldering charcoal. The warm, slightly smoky smell of the charcoal mixed with the crisp, clean scent of freshly laundered clothes, signaling the start of another day. It was a scent that, to this day, takes me back to those quiet, early mornings, when the world was just waking up, and everything seemed possible.

As the day wound down, we would sometimes visit an old coffee house, a place where time seemed to stand still. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, strong and dark, curling around me like a warm hug. The smell of old books—musty, comforting—added to the atmosphere, making it a place where I could lose myself in thought, the fragrance of nostalgia hanging in the air like a gentle reminder of the passage of time. Then there were those special moments that called for a different kind of scent. The excitement of having Mehndi applied to my hands is a memory I hold dear. The deep, earthy smell of the henna paste was rich and grounding, filling the room with its fragrance as the intricate patterns took shape on my skin. It was a scent that lingered long after the paste had dried, a sweet reminder of the joy and celebration that had brought us all together.

Finally, as the night drew near, I often found myself surrounded by the delicate scent of mogra flowers. My grandmother would weave them into a gajra for me to wear in my hair, her hands gentle and sure. The tiny white buds released a sweet, slightly intoxicating perfume that followed me throughout the evening, making me feel elegant and connected to a tradition that had been passed down through generations. But even amidst all these man-made fragrances, nature had its way of leaving a lasting impression. The first rain of the monsoon was something I eagerly awaited every year. As the first drops hit the dry earth, there was a sudden release of that unmistakable smell—petrichor. I would stand outside, eyes closed, breathing in the fresh, earthy scent as the rain washed away the dust and heat of summer. That smell brought a sense of renewal and hope, a reminder of the beauty that comes with change.

And then there was the Valley of Flowers, a place that took my breath away in more ways than one. As I trekked through the valley, the air was filled with the scent of wildflowers—crisp, clean, and unbelievably fresh. That fragrance was so pure, so overwhelming, that it filled not just my lungs but my entire being. It was a scent that made me feel alive, and connected to the natural world in a way that was both humbling and exhilarating.

As I sit here, reflecting on these memories, I realize that India is a country of scents—each one a thread in the rich assortment of memories and traditions that make up my life. Whether it’s the smell of dal frying in my mother’s kitchen, the sweet fragrance of mogra flowers in my hair, or the fresh, earthy scent of the first rain, these are the scents that define who I am. 

The Scents of India are as diverse and vibrant as the country itself, guiding me through my life journey, one fragrance at a time.

Authors Note

Saumya Sachan

She is a budding writer. Homesickness fuels her creativity, and when she is not immersed in the world of tech, she finds joy in dancing and devouring books. She considers writing as her sanctuary, a means of reconnecting with the warmth of home, offering escape and catharsis in a world of words.

West Bengal, is a land where education isn’t just a pursuit—it’s a legacy. Swami Vivekananda once said, “Educate and raise the masses, and thus alone a nation is possible.’’ Since ancient times, India has been home to renowned universities like Nalanda and Takshashila. West Bengal, in particular, has witnessed many eminent scholars who have studied and taught at the universities in Bengal.  The Bhakti movement led by Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, the spiritual teachings of Sri Aurobindo and Swami Vivekananda, the social reforms of Raja Ram Mohan Roy and Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar, and many other significant contributions have solidified West Bengal’s position as a cradle of higher education.

The Torchbearers of Academia

The state boasts various educational institutions, many of which have played pivotal roles in shaping India’s academic landscape. One such institution is the Senate of Serampore College, established in 1818  in a Danish settlement of Serampore by Christian missionaries. In 1829, it was granted a Royal Charter by King Frederick VI of Denmark, making it India’s first institution to have the status of a university. The college’s primary objective was to provide theological training for Christian ministry, but it also played a vital role in promoting education and social welfare.

Almost four decades later another prominent institution, The University of Calcutta, was established in 1857 under the tenure of Lord Canning. This institution, initially a reflection of its London counterpart, has evolved into a unique beacon of learning The university’s campus is a treasure trove of historical buildings, artifacts, and a vast library collection. It has also undergone modernization efforts to meet the demands of contemporary education.

Today, the university’s campus boasts three iconic buildings: Dwarbhanga, Centenary, and Ashutosh. Beyond the academic realm, the University has opened its doors to the public, offering historical tours and educational experiences to explore its rich collection of artifacts, jewel pieces, and crafts. The University’s museum houses over 25,000 artifacts, while its sprawling Central Library in Centenary Hall is spread across 10 floors. It is now home to more than 7 lakh books, including rare volumes that have been digitized. The library’s global reach is evident in its daily average of over 2 lakh hits worldwide. In a nod to inclusivity, it also features a Braille library with over 10 audio systems.

Beyond its academic offerings, the university has a deep connection to the city’s history. Several heritage buildings, such as the Writers’ Building and Town Hall, have been associated with the university throughout the years. These structures stand as silent witnesses to the university’s evolution and its enduring impact on the city.

An Encounter with Genius: My Journey at the University of Calcutta

During my brief journey at the University of Calcutta, I  enrolled in a short course on Buddhism at its iconic College Street campus. There, I had the good fortune to meet one of the university’s gems: Dr. Somnath Mukhopadhyay. As a professor and council member of the Asiatic Society and Indian Museum, his lectures were nothing short of captivating. His ability to weave intricate stories from historical texts, engage students with innovative activities, and help students in academic pursuits made him a favorite among many. His co-authored book Vision & Creation, with Kalyan Chattopadhyay, became my go-to source of inspiration, guiding me long after I left those hallowed halls.

Pioneering Spirits: Bengal’s Educational Firsts

In addition to the Senate of Serampore and the University of Calcutta, West Bengal is home to several other notable universities and colleges. Presidency University, which originated as the “Hindoo College,” has a long and illustrious history. Bethune College stands as a symbol of empowerment for women in India. Founded in 1879, it was the first women’s college in India, and it has played an instrumental role in shaping the future of female education in the country.

Calcutta Medical College holds the distinction of being Asia’s first medical school, to set high standards for medical research and practice. Bengal Engineering and Science University, formerly known as the Calcutta College of Civil Engineering, has been a pioneer in engineering education.

West Bengal’s legacy in higher education is certainly undeniable, it transcends the mere acquisition of degrees. It’s about carrying forward a legacy, about being part of a narrative that began centuries ago and continues to unfold. It’s about keeping alive the flame of knowledge that has burned bright for generations, illuminating the path to a brighter future. As Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar said, “The purpose of education is to create a better world, where every individual can reach their full potential.” 

References:

https://www.caluniv.ac.in/

https://www.google.co.in/books/edition/Hundred_Years_of_the_University_of_Calcu/-lppAAAAIAAJ?hl=en

https://lbb.in/kolkata/Calcutta-University-Library/

https://www.google.co.in/books/edition/The_Cradle_of_Modern_Missions/U-lNAQAAMAAJ?hl=en

https://www.news18.com/news/buzz/did-you-know-the-serampore-college-is-nearly-200-years-old-19-oldest-indian-universities-that-are-over-centuries-old-703751.html

https://www.oikoumene.org/news/wcc-general-secretary-receives-honorary-doctorate-from-serampore-college

Authors note:

Ishani Gupta, an avid archaeology and culture enthusiast, embraces life as an explorer with a profound fascination for historical narratives. She believes that every story from the past is worth discovering. The allure of heritage deeply resonates with her, and she aspires to be a curator of such treasures. In addition to her dedication to research as a profession, Ishani finds joy in reading, writing, yoga, and pilates.

One evening, I joined the throng of devotees gathered at the ghats for the Ganga Aarti. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the atmosphere became electric. Priests in their traditional attire moved gracefully, orchestrating the ancient ritual. The chants of hymns filled the air, resonating deep within my soul. The sound of conch shells and the warm flicker of brass lamps cast an ethereal glow on the sacred river. It was a visual and auditory symphony that narrated the profound connection between Varanasi and the Ganges, a connection I could feel reverberating in my own heart.

Varanasi also offers a glimpse of devotion in daily life along its bustling ghats. In the early morning hours, I joined the river’s edge where devotees and seekers embarked on their daily rituals. They bathed in the holy Ganges and offered prayers, connecting with the divine in a way that is incomprehensible to the ordinary.

Varanasi’s inclusivity shines amidst the daily chaos. Beyond its religious significance, the city emerges as a cultural melting pot. In my journey, I came across a place where different faiths coexist harmoniously. It was proof of India’s rich tapestry of cultures, where diverse beliefs come together. A temple devoted to Lord Shiva, a mosque resonating with the call to prayer, and a Sikh gurdwara where langar is served to all; Varanasi embodies the inclusive spirit of India where diverse traditions find common ground.

The liveliness of the city is most evident during Diwali. It transforms into a mesmerizing canvas of illumination. Countless lamps and candles adorn every corner, painting the night sky with a golden hue. People exchange sweets and greet one another with blessings. The celebration is more than a festival; it becomes an invitation to experience the warmth of the city’s traditions.

Venturing further into the city’s heart, I visited the colourful bazaars. Each narrow lane was a treasure trove of colors, textures, and aromas. Shopkeepers displayed intricate textiles, traditional jewelry, and an array of spices. The air mingled with the scent of incense; the sarees were in bright, striking colours that matched the sparkle of the city. Engaging with the kind locals showed me that Varanasi’s soul is deeply rooted in the spirit and dedication of its people.

In retrospect, my journey to Varanasi was not a passive observation of a city’s features; it was a visceral experience of its soul. The sizzle of street food, the resonance of ancient hymns, the warmth of shared smiles, and the joy of celebrations etched the essence of Varanasi deep into my being. This ancient city became a significant chapter in my own journey of discovery. It was an unforgettable experience that taught me about the different shades of India’s spirituality and culture. The experience proves that this ancient city is not lost in the past. It knows how to evolve while preserving its traditions. What makes Varanasi special is its ability to find a link between the past and the present. It is a place where every traveller can identify their bond with spirituality.

About the Author 

Saumya Sachan

She is a budding writer. Homesickness fuels her creativity, and when she is not immersed in the world of tech, she finds joy in dancing and devouring books. She considers writing as her sanctuary, a means of reconnecting with the warmth of home, offering escape and catharsis in a world of words.

Journey Through Jahangir’s Empire: A Tale of Cities and Dynasties

The reign of Mughal Emperor Jahangir stands out as one of the vibrant and mesmerizing chapters in the history of India, amidst the magnificent tapestry of empires and dynasties. It was an age of cultural blossoming and artistic wonders. The Jahangirnama is a unique memoir that serves as a window into the Emperor’s astonishing reign. The autobiography also reveals a kaleidoscope of cities that marked his reign, each with a distinct character and tale.

Jahangirnama is also known as Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri. Written in Persian, the autobiography was translated into English by scholars like Francis Gladwin. The entire translation by Alexander Rogers serves as a crucial contribution to the study of Jahangir’s period. Jahangir began writing his memoir in 1605 but, owing to sickness, he delegated the assignment to Mutamid Khan in the 17th year of his reign (1622), who continued writing until the 19th regnal year (1624). From that point, it is said to be written by Muhammad Hadi.

Jahangir’s memoirs are written in the same chronological order as Baburnama. The employed language is communicatively effective, idiomatic, and employs evocative phrases. They give a firsthand description of the Emperor’s everyday life, administrative details, military campaigns, official titles, and official rules. Jahangir’s memoirs also represent his personal thinking and his opinions on politics, religion, and society.

His scientific pursuits, experiments, and connections with Sufis, alongside the use of opium and wine, are also documented in depth. Jahangir’s Persian writing style is distinguished by the incorporation of lyrical quotes, frequently in the form of proverbs and references to traditional Persian authors such as Firdawsi and Baba Fighani. His knowledge of Hindustani poetry and imagery and his use of Hindustani and Kashmiri terms in his Persian memoirs demonstrate his admiration for Indian culture.

Each city in the Jahangirnama has its own story to tell. One cannot miss witnessing their lively histories while travelling and exploring the rich tapestry of the Mughal Empire under Emperor Jahangir. As we read on, we will embark on an enthralling journey to Agra, a city that gleams like a rare pearl on the banks of Yamuna. Landscapes transform into architectural marvels, and one can feel the pulse of the busy streets and labyrinthine passageways. The atmosphere of Agra perfectly merges history and modernity, paying homage to the city’s eternal character.

Agra: The Jewel on Yamuna

In the embrace of Yamuna, Agra blossoms like a precious gem. This city witnessed the transformation of wild landscapes into a symphony of architectural marvels. Before the rule of Lodi Afghans, Agra flourished as a city with a citadel, a testament to its historical significance. It is a place where history whispers from every corner, reminding all who listen of its storied past. Jahangir’s father Akbar razed the old citadel, birthing a new one from hewn red stones, an unrivaled edifice. The heart of Agra pulses with life. Towering buildings create a magnificent city where time seems to lose its way. Those who visit Agra today are mesmerised by its aura, which combines the vivacity of the present with the glory of the past.

Fatehpur Sikri: The Abandoned Dream

Following that, we travel to Fatehpur Sikri, an abandoned dream set among old mountains and forests. The city grew from the earth only to be abandoned, its red sandstone structures straining for the skies, a tribute to human aspirations.

Nestled within ancient mountains and jungles, Fatehpur Sikri tells a tale of ambition and destiny. Originally Sikri, Emperor Jahangir’s birthplace, it transformed into a city of wonder, a grand capital. For fourteen or fifteen years, the landscape burgeoned with buildings, gardens, and delightful spots, all a testament to the vision of Akbar. After the conquest of Gujarat, it was renamed Fatehpur.

Walking through Fatehpur Sikri is akin to traversing the realm of dreams. Its red sandstone monuments, such as the Buland Darwaza and the Jama Masjid, rise to touch the heavens. Like a phoenix, the city rose from ashes, and echoes of the emperor’s footsteps still resonate in its silent courtyards. However, Fatehpur Sikri will only tell a story about the transience of human ambition. As the city was abruptly abandoned, it could only hold memories of the spectacular life that would never return.

Kashmir: The Enchanted Vale

The magical valley of Kashmir comes alive with its otherworldly beauty. Emperor Jahangir’s visit to Kashmir unraveled a land so ethereal it seemed plucked from the realms of fantasy. This paradise on earth enveloped the Emperor with the awe-inspiring grandeur of the Himalayas. Its landscape, cloaked in the vivid hues of autumn and spring, is a sight to behold as each season unveils a unique masterpiece.

Kashmir is a place of breathtaking splendor, where nature herself becomes an artist. Pure crystal waters of the Verinag Spring flow through the heart of the valley. The saffron fields of Pampore paint the land with a mesmerizing orange hue. The fragrance of this precious spice fills the air, leaving even the most robust souls spellbound. Reflecting the emerald mountains, the Dal Lake provides a tranquil haven for the people of Kashmir.

With its harmonious blend of flora and fauna, the Kashmir Valley is home to legends and miracles. It is believed that the “island” rising from Wular Lake, popularly known as Zaina Lank, was the creation of Sultan Zainul Abidin. His forty-day retreats and miraculous encounters with his sons paint the valley with mysticism and spirituality. The Gakhars, a resilient clan living on the fringes, add an element of intrigue and adventure to Kashmir’s narrative.

Rohtas: Sher Khan’s Impregnable Stronghold

Finally, we arrive at Rohtas, where the builders’ unbreakable spirit speaks volumes about human resolve and strategic ingenuity. As Emperor Jahangir ventured farther into the empire, he came upon a fortress perched on a patch of broken ground, a building that represented incredible strength. Rohtas stood as a sentinel against the rebellious and refractory Gakhars, a symbol of authority and power. In another part of medieval history, it used to be Sher Shah Sur’s impregnable stronghold.

But Rohtas is more than a fortress; it is a defiance of nature itself. Its seemingly insurmountable rocky terrain serves as a silent witness to history’s unfolding drama. Here, the clash of wills between emperors and their adversaries is etched into the very stones, a living testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

We are taken to a period of grandeur, ambition, and incomparable beauty as we flip through the pages of the Jahangirnama. Each city, as described in the Jahangirnama, provides a unique view into India’s rich tapestry of history and cultural variety. These cities, brought to life as people in their own right, entice us to explore their fabled pasts, where echoes of bygone times may still be

heard. They are more than simply geographical sites; they are living testament to the majesty of the Mughal Empire, especially its enduring legacy throughout Jahangir’s reign.

In the pages of his memoirs, we find not only the story of an emperor but a glimpse into the mosaic of civilizations that have thrived on the Indian subcontinent. It is another reminder that history is not just a collection of facts and dates but an exquisite treasury of experiences that enrich our understanding of the world.

References:

1. The Jahangirnama : memoirs of Jahangir, Emperor of India : Jahangir, Emperor of Hindustan, 1569-1627 : Internet Archive. (1999). Internet Archive.
2. Thackston, Wheeler M., ed. 1999. The Jahangirnama. New York, Oxford: Freer Gallery Of Art, Arthur Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution
3. Lefevre, Corinne. 2007. “Recovering A Missing Voice From Mughal India: The Imperial Discourse of Jahangir (R. 1605-1627) In His Memoirs.” Journal Of The Economic And Social History Of The Orient 50(4): 452-489

About the Author :

Vidarshna

Vidarshna is a third-year student who loves navigating her way through history, society, culture and politics. She loves writing, meeting new people and trying out new experiences.

Power. Conflict. Victory. I hear no gender. Yet, flipping back through time, we see a male-dominated narrative. Were women truly forbidden from becoming leaders unless it was to serve their men or deliver the next heir? Or were they more involved than what the storytellers narrate and what people choose to believe today? Indian history takes us thousands of years back with countless settlements having flourished, diminished and rejuvenated. Despite its unique features, each settlement shares in common a sense of community, a distinct cultural identity and a seat of authority. Today, the evidence confirming human, cultural and social evolution, lies trapped in ancient edifices and prevails through the people. While many legends glorify male leaders who have done great for their kingdom, the women of action remain hidden in their shadows. However, history has not let women down just yet. Some have been celebrated for their bravery, intellect and authority. Their pursuit of progress and freedom led them to shine decades after their deaths. Let’s embark on the journey of three such women warriors, who have shown great feats in fulfilling not only household duties but also demonstrated great administrative control, bravery on the battlefield and an ambitious architectural vision.

As Indira Gandhi once said, “the power to question is the basis of all human progress.”

Who saved the Rajshahi Zamindari estate in Natore from the British in the 18th century?

Rani Bhabani was brought to fame overnight when her husband, Raja Ramkanta Moitra, died in 1748 and left behind almost 13000 square miles in Natore along with the responsibility of several families and towns. His death, her destiny. Without hesitation, she spent almost 50 years in the Rajshahi estate of Natore, now in Bangladesh, managing her husband’s lands efficiently.

Image 1

The 18^th century saw the rise of the British Empire in the Indian subcontinent. At a time when women heading the table were not given a single thought, the Rani of Natore made her roaring appearance and emerged as a fine administrator. Marking her legacy in architecture, she built numerous shrines and constructed a road from Howrah to Varanasi. Rani Bhabani, having visited Varanasi in 1770 and built the Durga temple, returned with the vision to create a Kashi in Bangladesh. So, she executed the ambitious project of erecting over a hundred temples in a large complex in Baranagar. Additionally, she sponsored the construction of several water tanks to cater to the water shortage in the region. Rani Bhabani was also recognized for her benevolence. She donated a vast amount of money to encourage learning and education. Temples with charity houses were built to support the needy and the helpless. Throughout her rule, Rani Bhabani exhibited intellect, strength and generosity. Her adventures came to an end with her death in 1803 and the vanishing of the glory of the Rajshahi zamindari family.

Several temples built by the queen perished as the surrounding river deviated from its course. However, some landmarks like the Natore Palace continue to exist today, resonating with the ambition and valour of the queen.

Who ascended the Malwa throne to protect the welfare of her kingdom after the death of the male leaders of her family?

The year 1725 marked the birth of a female warrior. Rani Ahilyabai Holkar was born in a small village south-west of the kingdom. Against all odds, she was taught reading and writing by her father from an early stage and was raised with simplicity. When she was eight years old, Ahilya married Khande Rao, the son of Malhar Rao Holkar. Her father-in-law trained her in military and administrative affairs. Hardly had Ahilya reached the age of twenty years that she was widowed. It is said that she prepared herself for sati before Malhar Rao stopped her from doing so. From this moment, Ahilya began performing various duties as a leader. Her training of several years prepared her for the courage to continue her battles when she lost her son.

Image 2

After Malhar Rao’s death, the responsibility was passed on to Ahilyabai’s son Male Rao, who too passed away soon, hardly giving any time for his rule. Finally, in 1767, Indore found a new ruler, a name synonymous with the city today – Rani Ahilyabai Holkar. She proved her worth to male leaders, countering rebellions and gaining victories in battles. Rani Ahilyabai carried forth a 28-year rule from the nearby town of Maheshwar, with the kingdom flourishing in the administrative, commercial, cultural and social realms. She would hold public meetings and address the grievances of citizens. The homeless and the orphaned were no longer neglected, and the merchants were encouraged to enhance trade. Another legendary contribution attributed to Rani Ahilyabai is the creation of the Maheshwari saris. She made Maheshwar an exquisite platter of music, literature and art, with several Marathi poets and Sanskrit scholars treading through the town. She took an interest in architecture, establishing numerous forts, highways, wells and temples. Her enthusiasm spread as she built dozens of temples, ghats, wells, tanks and rest houses. While Rani Ahilyabai paved her own path, she must have faced emotional scars that often left her broken. One such scar was losing her daughter to sati – the biggest irony of her life. In 1795, the Malwa kingdom shut its eyes to an incomparable legend.

In The Discovery of India, Jawaharlal Nehru writes how Ahilyabai’s reign “became almost legendary as a period during which perfect order and good government prevailed and the people prospered.” Besides being “a very able ruler and organizer,” Ahilyabai was remembered as “a saint.”

Who protected the Maratha Empire from the Mughals in the beginning of 18th century AD after the death of three heirs?
Image 3

Dialling back a few years, a woman warrior of the Mohite clan was born in 1675. Like Ahilyabai Holkar, Tarabai Bhonsale learnt archery, horsemanship and sword fighting from the early years of her life; she is also said to have been married at the age of 8. Her new Maratha family led to a big transformation in her life. The first 17 years of her marriage were marred by the absence of her father-in-law, the founder of the Maratha kingdom; the loss of the next heir, Sambhaji, followed by the death of her husband, Rajaram I, only to be left with their infant son, Shivaji II. Tarabai did not commit sati after her husband’s death. As Shivaji II was crowned the king, Tarabai became the regent queen. She could barely fathom the tumultuous events unfolding before her, and then the Mughals from the north raided the Maratha Empire. But Rani Tarabai Bhonsale fought with a rare courage that left all her enemies open-mouthed. Tarabai’s intelligence and awareness of civil and military affairs helped her rise above every obstacle. The rise of Tarabai came with the numerous battles she fought against the Mughals. From 1700 to 1707, Tarabai solely organized the Marathas’ defence against the armies of the sixth Mughal Emperor, Aurangzeb. She kept evolving as a leader, emerging as an unstoppable, resilient woman. After Aurangzeb’s death, Tarabai faced the most difficult battle – a clash with her family. The release of Shahu by the Mughals caused cracks in the strong political edifice of the Marathas. Tarabai did not acknowledge Shahu’s superiority. As he became the sovereign in Satara, she established a rival court at Kolhapur. Her son eventually lost the Kolhapur throne as Shahu conspired against her with Rajaram’s second wife. Even after being imprisoned and losing her son, Tarabai’s story did not end in Maratha history. Growing tension between Shahu and Sambhaji II, the son of Rajaram and his second wife, and later, the failing health of Shahu allowed her to regain her influence in politics. She proposed that her “grandson,” a man hidden for several years, ascend the throne after Shahu’s death. Unfortunately, he would be lured by the Peshwa and refuse to obey Tarabai. Tarabai’s story would come to a close some months after the third Battle of Panipat, which led to the tragic defeat inflicted on the Maratha Empire by Ahmed Shah Abdali. Some believe that because of Tarabai, the Mughals failed in overpowering the kingdom decades ago.

These were just three stories of women who have become eternal legends. There were other women too, those who challenged and defeated powerful enemies. Rani Lakshmibai, Maharani Jind Kaur of Punjab, Naiki Devi of Chalukya dynasty, Rani Abbakka Chowta of Ullal, Rani Durgavati of Gondwana, Sethu Lakshmi Bayi of the Travancore kingdom, Rani Chennabhairadevi of Saluva dynasty and Sultan Raziya of the Delhi Sultanate; the past is filled with stories of powerful women.

Women from different backgrounds, presenting different stories, had unique ways of creating history. As Mother Teresa once said, “I can do things you cannot, you can do things I cannot; together we can do great things.”

REFERENCES

• https://buzzchronicles.com/b/all/19657/
• https://www.natore.gov.bd/en/site/page/gUnK-%E0%A6%9C%E0%A7%87%E0%A6%B2%E0%A6%BE%E0%A6%B0-%E0%A6%AA%E0%A6%9F%E0%A6%AD%E0%A7%82%E0%A6%AE%E0%A6%BF
• https://www.thebetterindia.com/292468/brave-indian-queens-in-history-ahilyabai-holkar-abbaka-chowta-rani-chennama-durgavati/
• https://indianculture.gov.in/snippets/rajmata-ahilyabai-holkar
• https://www.thebetterindia.com/119761/queen-ahilyabai-holkar-maratha/
• https://www.historified.in/rani-tarabai-bhonsale-the-warrior-maratha-queen/

Image 1: Natore Rajbhari, Palace of Rani Bhabani

Source : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natore_Rajbari

Image 2: Rani Ahilyabai Holkar

Source : https://indianculture.gov.in/snippets/rajmata-ahilyabai-holkar

Image 3: Rani Tarabai Bhonsale

Source : https://www.historified.in/rani-tarabai-bhonsale-the-warrior-maratha-queen/

About The Author

Aalya Rekhi

Aalya Rekhi is an architect with work experience of 5 years in the field of cultural heritage from ICOMOS and INTACH. Currently, she is pursuing her Master’s in Applied Sciences of Cultural Heritage, Materials and Sites from the University of Padua, Italy. At a conference, she once heard someone say, “Heritage is what you choose to inherit,” and with “such great power comes great responsibility.” Breathing in a land of rich and diverse history, she has always been passionate about documenting and preserving the precious archives of the past that are fast-decaying but hold memories that have shaped the world today.

It is a tale as old as time: “A beautiful, pious queen who had a tragic fate, a king who could not accept her independence.” This story resembles the incidents one finds in newspapers or social media daily. Men tend to control women. They find it hard to accept that women can follow their choices. Although history (or “his-story”) tends to be biased towards kings rather than documenting the lives of queens, it always carries the opportunity to learn and improve the present.

Akola is a dry, arid town in the Vidarbha region of Maharashtra. For some, it may not fit the vision of an ideal tourist place. The populace, however, is faithful to the local temple. The Raj Rajeshwar Temple is so popular that some people call the city Rajeshwar Nagari. Today, this Shiva temple is part of the Akola fort or the Asadgadh fort. As the city stands today in a drought-prone region, it is hard to believe that it was once a part of the famous Dandakaranya with lush tree cover, probably a passing path for the Ramayana trio during their vanvas. The temple was originally built as a shivling in dense forests. As per the District Census Handbook of Akola, “no mention of Akola is available in historical records till 1658 when Aurangzeb ascended the throne of Delhi . . . as no exploration or archaeological excavation has yet been undertaken in this district, there is no definite information about its prehistoric and protohistoric periods.” Such is the history of this city, relying on anecdotes that locals remember with fondness while the remaining ruins at the fort continue to enchant visitors.

The tale of Raj Rajeshwar Temple is the one that has survived the longest. Akol Singh, or Akoli Raja, was the king who made the town, lending the place his name. His queen was a dedicated visitor of the shivling and often went to the temple in the late hours to offer prayer. The king became suspicious, and one day, he followed the queen with a sword in his hand. Believing that the queen was immoral, the king was prepared to kill her the moment he caught her red-handed. The queen was a regular visitor to the temple and knew the path. She noticed that someone was following her. Seeing the king with his sword, she felt her fate was sealed. She rushed to the shivling and prayed to Lord Shiva to help her. She asked him for refuge as she had nothing except for true devotion to him. She was also anguished that her husband could believe her to be disloyal. The shivling split open, like earth opening her womb, and the queen jumped in. By the time the king reached, he could only see a piece of cloth and a crack on the shivling. Another version of the story revolves around locals from the village near the forest. In a different narrative, the queen steps out of the fort for illicit reasons and prays to the shivling to save her. In one version, the king repents his decision and lives a sore life after the disappearance of the queen. Stories that capture the individuality of women are always timeless.

If you visit the temple today, you shall either notice a photo of a piece of cloth protruding from the shivling. A local may even show you the crack on the shivling. Plus, you shall come across a different version of the story. The fort, which lies in a ruinous state in the present-day temple, has inscriptions pointing to many details about its establishment. The Dahihanda gate and the bastion will tell you that it was constructed in 1114 AH or 1697 AD by Asad Khan. Akola, then a small town compared to the neighboring richer Balapur, was known as Akola Balapur. Asad Khan received the town as jagir from Aurangzeb and built the fort, which would be called Asadgadh. Few archaeological records and a district handbook mention that it was a notable fort in the second Anglo-Maratha war, serving as a camping ground for General Arthur Wellesley in 1803. It is believed that the British destroyed the fort in 1870. However, a source dating to 1910 reveals that the central portion of the fort was supposedly used as a school.

Most locals may not have visited the fort at all, but they are familiar with the tragic story of the queen. It is another testament to the power of stories and how they bring vivacity to built heritage.

Pictures:

1.Raj Rajeshwar Temple

2. Akola Fort

References:

• Annual Report of the Archaeological Survey of India, 1924-45 https://archive.org/stream/annualreportofth030750mbp/annualreportofth030750mbp_djvu.txt

• District Census Handbook, Akola

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjsvJXAjvyAAxU1zDgGHcZKAv8QFnoECD4QAQ&url=https%3A%2F%2Fcensusindia.gov.in%2Fnada%2Findex.php%2Fcatalog%2F27787%2Fdownload%2F30956%2FDH_27_2001_AKO.pdf&usg=AOvVaw1OcHHCTGRnPNBbNkmp8Y2O&opi=89978449

• https://www.tourmyindia.com/states/maharashtra/raj-rajeshwar-temple-akola.html

About the Author:

Aishwarya Lahariya

Aishwarya is a circular textile entrepreneur. She is a chemist/scientist by profession. She calls herself a part-time creative who loves to write. When not involved with her start-up, she is either writing her blog, leading her zero-waste project at home or playing catch up on unread books