Understanding India's cultural representation: The impact of Operation Sindoor
As Shashi Tharoor's articulation in Victorian-era Wren and Martinese continues to bowl over the civil service examinee that lies inside each one of us, I was reminded of my elucidation of 'sindoor' a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. In the hoary 80s before Operation Bluestar, when googol was just a number - 1 followed by 100 zeroes - and General Zia-ul-Haq was Pakistan's president, I went to school in a small New Zealand town called Whakatane. My mother must have dropped me off once. A classmate later asked me, 'What's that red mark on your mum's head?' Now, one of my virtues as an 11-year-old was to paint a pretty picture of where I had come from - the thriving megalopolis of Calcutta. In the course of answering many queries of a distant land in those pre-Google days, I would dress up some facts with elaborate explanations.
For instance, I told my classmates that I actually was a very ordinary student 'back home' and most young Indians of my age were quite brilliant. We also lived in large multi-storied buildings all to ourselves where house help was abundant. As you can make out, these were not really lies, but slight exaggerations to correct misrepresentations of India - especially Calcutta - abroad. In a similar vein, I had explained to my culturally curious classmate that the red mark on my mother's head - and she wore just a fine line of a comb-end dipped in sindoor - was called 'shidur' (I used the Bengali word for it) and was a streak of my father's blood that Ma freshly wore every week to signal that she owned him. I don't know what my friend made of that explanation, but she was suitably satisfied with my exposition of Indian matriarchic customs that treated married men as married women's chattel.
Explaining cultural behaviour and practices to people unaware of them is as important as explaining political action and positions to them. So, in that sense, I get what the Indian version of the Harlem Globetrotters' 14-day explanatory mission to various capitals of the world was about. It was about highlighting India's stand on terrorism following Operation Sindoor. To anyone who was listening. As a travelling exposition, though, I wonder whether it succeeded in doing what it set out to do. Now, I'm not part of the crowd that believes that taxpayers' money was spent for MPs to have a nice 'world tour'. Public money has been worse spent on matters less measurable. And this travelling gig was more than just about explaining Operation Sindoor - it was about showcasing Indians who live India and updating their image from the land of 'Ghandi' (sic), Mother Teresa and customer service line voices to something modern, modular, and muscular. But what left me scratching my stubble were two things. One, in this day and age of much more enhanced avenues of communication, having outreach teams - one of them fronted by a gentleman's whose USP seems to be speaking in impeccable Jeeves-Wooster English in these multiculti times - seemed very Nehruvian. Two, our boys and girls calmly fingerwagging in foreign capitals to no one in particular barring Indian news outlets like ANI and PTI seemed to be in a different universe compared to the thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening here in India. The venerable home minister, for instance, saying earlier this week that Mamata Banerjee had opposed Operation Sindoor to placate her 'Muslim votebank' was doubly odd. After all, Trinamool general secretary and Didi's nephew Abhishek Banerjee was part of the MP delegation trotting about Japan, South Korea, Singapore, Indonesia (the country with the world's largest Muslim population), and Malaysia as part of the Sindoor tour. In effect, our Harlem Globetrotters were globetrotting to impress us sitting here in India. Much in the same vein I would return to India just before Kapil Dev would lift the World Cup and tell my new schoolfriends - and some 40 years later, tell you, my dear reader - how I served to upgrade the image of India to a world that needed it to be updated. Elevate your knowledge and leadership skills at a cost cheaper than your daily tea. The answer to companies not incurring capex may lie in stock markets
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Time of India
an hour ago
- Time of India
Office Para Dalhousie
Once the most politically charged precinct east of Suez, Kolkata's Dalhousie Square — now officially BBD Bag — is a living relic. It was the cradle of modern Indian governance, the workshop of the British East India Company, and the epicentre of Bengal's revolutionary fervour. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now As the steel girders of the Mahakaran metro station pierce the subsoil of this historic heartland, and scaffolding wraps Writers' Buildings in a veil of future promise, the Square is slowly shifting its silhouette — from a colonial memoryscape to a dynamic urban commons. At the crossroads of nostalgia and necessity, Dalhousie Square stands at a unique moment in time. It is steeped in layered narratives — from the administrative architecture of the British Empire to revolutionary blood spilled in the name of freedom. Now, the future demands that it evolve into a space that not only honours its past but actively engages the civic life of contemporary Kolkata. "Dalhousie Square is not just a cluster of colonial-era buildings — it is the treasury of governance memories for all of modern south Asia," says Alapan Bandyopadhyay, former Bengal chief secretary and the current chairman of the Bengal Heritage Commission. Bandyopadhyay's relationship with the precinct is intimate. He spent long years working in the Writers' Buildings, the city's oldest and most symbolic secretariat. Its most iconic structure, the red-brick Writers' Buildings, is currently undergoing long-overdue restoration. Once the domain of the Company's "writers" — junior clerks — the edifice morphed into Bengal's administrative core through the 19th and 20th centuries. And yet, in its silent grandeur, it remained a watchtower of colonial nostalgia and an unwilling witness to post-Independence inertia. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now "Heritage must not remain fossilised in nostalgia," Bandyopadhyay insists. "The challenge is to reimagine this historical heart of Kolkata as a dynamic, democratic, and sustainable public space — a cultural and administrative commons where history coexists with contemporary urban life." For decades, Dalhousie Square served as the office para — the de facto central business district (CBD) of Kolkata. While the centrality of this function persists, the precinct today battles dilapidation, traffic chaos, visual clutter, and urban disconnection. The area that once housed India's first reserve bank (Currency Building, 1770), Asia's first hotel (Spence's, 1830), first elevator (Raj Bhawan, 1892), first telegraph line (1854), world's first fingerprint bureau (1897), and now, Asia's first underwater Metro, is being forced to ask itself difficult questions: What is the future of a CBD that still operates on 19th-century blueprints? Can nostalgia become an asset in urban revitalisation? "There is an urgent need to bring pedestrian friendliness, restore architectural harmony, declutter signage, and reactivate historic spaces for civic engagement," says urban planner Dipankar Sinha, former DG (Town Planning) of KMC. "We don't need to turn Dalhousie into a tourist trap, but we must make it a civic spectacle." Bandyopadhyay sees the opportunity as transformative. "In the years ahead, I envision Dalhousie Square as a seamless confluence of preservation and progress," he explains. "Restored heritage structures should house public institutions, museums, think tanks, cultural hubs, and quiet courtyards for civic interaction." If the future is subterranean, Dalhousie is already digging in. The Mahakaran metro station, being built just south of the Writers' Buildings, symbolises not just physical connectivity, but philosophical renewal. Kolkata's first under-river metro is not only an engineering feat but also a metaphor for linking eras — past, present, and future. And while the future promises a cleaned-up square, enhanced public transport, and restored facades, it must also reckon with the emotional landscape that Dalhousie inhabits in the hearts of its citizens. Kolkata has long been called the Capital of Nostalgia, and nowhere is this truer than at Dalhousie. Every forgotten corner here has hosted the arc of empire, revolution, and resistance. The square is more than a site of colonial governance; it was also the theatre of resistance. In 1930, three young revolutionaries — Benoy, Badal, and Dinesh — stormed the Writers' Buildings to assassinate a top British official. Their sacrifice lent BBD Bag its present name. Even earlier, the Rodda Arms Heist of 1914, in which Bengali nationalists stole German Mauser pistols in broad daylight, unfolded in the same alleys. In 1930, C A Tegart, then police commissioner, narrowly escaped an assassination attempt right here. The resistance embedded in Dalhousie's stones still whispers beneath the city's postcolonial calm. Today, a red sign for AG Bengal on the Treasury Building — the former site of Spence's Hotel — sits jarringly over intricate friezes. The room where C V Raman once worked lies unmarked. Even President Rajendra Prasad walked these corridors, now largely anonymous to passersby. Dalhousie's heritage is not just something to be protected; it's a brand, a potential urban identity. "Dalhousie has been left with memories," said Chandranath Chattopadhyay, a cultural commentator. "But that can be a compliment. If only we could reimagine these neighbourhoods, get the world to gawk at their romance, stay in our hotels, carry our stories home—we could turn memory into momentum." Dalhousie's future is more than architectural — it is psychological. For a city battling modernity on uncertain terms, Dalhousie offers a unique roadmap: how to remain old without becoming obsolete, said P K Mishra, an archaeologist who worked for long at Dalhousie. Making of Dalhousie Dalhousie Square's story begins with Job Charnock of the British East India Company, who set up a kuthi (factory) near the Hooghly banks in 1690. From this foothold, the Company built Fort William, established St Anne's Church, and gradually acquired the villages of Sutanuti, Govindapur, and Kalikata — laying the foundation of modern Calcutta British historian H E A Cotton described Dalhousie as the "pivot of the settlement" in 'Calcutta Old and New' (1909), noting its role as the nerve centre of governance, commerce, and communication. Over the years, the square became home to a stunning array of 'firsts' — Asia's first hotel (Spence's), elevator (Raj Bhawan), telegraph line, fingerprint bureau, and more The area also witnessed pivotal moments of political resistance: the Rodda Arms Heist, the Benoy-Badal-Dinesh attack on Writers' Buildings, and multiple assassination attempts on British officials Also known as BBD Bag, the square is undergoing a crucial transformation. As the past is restored and the future built underground, Dalhousie remains the beating heart of a city that remembers — and dreams|
Time of India
2 hours ago
- Time of India
Bakrid celebrated with religious fervour, gaiety in city
Patna: Muslims across the city gathered on Saturday at various mosques and Eidgah in the morning, including Gandhi Maidan, to offer 'namaz' (prayers) on Eid-ul-Adha (Bakrid). The mornings were filled with spiritual devotion. People hugged each other and exchanged warm greetings after offering namaz at Gandhi Maidan. After the prayers, families engaged themselves in offering 'qurbani' (sacrifice), an important ritual of this festival where specially goats are sacrificed and distributed among friends, relatives and the poor. Adding to the festive spirit, governor Arif Mohammad Khan extended his warm wishes to the people through social media on the auspicious occasion. "This festival is of unparalleled devotion and sacrifice inspires us to embody the spirit of mutual love, harmony and brotherhood in our lives. Let us take this opportunity to strengthen social cohesion and national unity, and resolve to build a just and inclusive society", he posted. "This occasion has a spiritual significance for us," said Madiha Hassan, a resident of Bakarganj near Gandhi Maidan. "We kept 'roza' before offering 'namaz'. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Descubre cómo Amazon CFD puede ayudarte a invertir como un pro Empezar ahora Subscríbete Undo After 'namaz', 'qurbani' of goat as per the ritual was offered, where seventy percent of the meat has to be distributed. We later distributed it to relatives and families where 'qurbani' was not offered. For the evening, we also prepared 'sheer khurma', 'sewaiyyan' and 'dahi vada' to serve the guests. " "The festival teaches us the value of sharing, devotion and sacrifice. Preparations for the festival started days before at my house like buying new clothes, and other essentials for the festival. I spend time with my family on this day," said another local. Tight security arrangements were implemented by the administration to ensure a peaceful celebration. The DM monitored the administrative arrangements including crowd management and traffic flow. At Gandhi Maidan, around 128 CCTV cameras were installed to monitor the area, and a temporary police station was also set up.
Time of India
7 hours ago
- Time of India
THE WOMAN WHO CLIMBED DARKNESS
Logo: Times Specials Kullu: On the morning of May 19, as dawn lit up the Himalayas, Chhonzin Angmo stood on the summit of Mount Everest. There was no sweeping panorama for her. No view. No photograph. Just a blur of wind, cold, breathlessness — and tears. "I couldn't see anything," Angmo said. "But I could feel it. I was standing on the top of the world. That moment was unbelievable." In that moment, the 29-year-old from Himachal Pradesh, India, became the first visually impaired woman ever to summit Everest, and only the fifth person in history without sight to reach the peak. She had made it. Not despite her blindness — but through it. From the valley to the void Angmo was born in Chango, a remote Himalayan village sitting almost 3,000 metres above sea level, on the edge of the Spiti valley. She had perfect vision as a child, playing in the apple orchards and walking to school like any other. But one day, at the age of eight, something changed. "It was during her school examinations," said her older brother, Gopal. "The teacher noticed her handwriting had started slanting on the page. She said she couldn't see." Within days, Angmo was blind. Her family travelled hundreds of kilometres to doctors in Rampur, then to Delhi, Chandigarh and Patiala — but the cause was never identified, and the treatments never worked. The young girl spent years at home in silence. But silence never suited her. "She had this fire," said Tashi Dolma, the village head of Chango and a former schoolmate. "She was never going to accept being left behind. " Learning to move forward Angmo was enrolled eventually in the Mahabodhi Residential School for the visually impaired in Leh, Ladakh — more than 1,000 km from home. There, she learned Braille. She graduated. Then she left the mountains for Delhi, where she studied at Miranda House, one of India's top colleges for women. There, the mountains called her back. And this time, she answered in a way no one expected. Angmo took up adventure sport. She paraglided in Bir-Billing. She bicycled from Manali to Khardung La. She swam, ran marathons, played judo, scaled the Siachen Glacier, and summited Kang Yatse II and Kanamo Peak. She worked her way up to 20,000-foot climbs — blind. "After I lost my eyesight, Everest became my obsession," she said. "People tried to scare me. They said I'd die. But every time they said it, I became more determined." The final ascent Mount Everest is more than a climb. For Indian climbers, a guided expedition can cost upwards of ₹50 lakh. For a blind woman from a remote village, it's nearly impossible. Angmo knocked on many doors. Eventually, her employer —Union Bank of India — agreed to sponsor her expedition. She left Delhi on April 6. After flying to Lukla, she trekked to Everest Base Camp by April 18. For the next 26 days, she trained and acclimatised under the guidance of military veteran Romil Barthwal and two Sherpa guides, Dundu Sherpa and Gurung Maila. On May 15, the summit push began. Her biggest fear? Not altitude. Not fatigue. Crevasses. "I was terrified of the ladders. I couldn't walk across them, so I sat on them and crawled across on my hands," she said. Between Base Camp and Camp 4, she relied on trekking poles and the subtle shifts in body movements of climbers ahead to navigate. At times, she memorised terrain from a previous trek to Base Camp a year earlier. On May 18, she reached Camp 4. That night, at 7 pm, the team made their summit push. Top of the world Above 8,000 m lies the Death Zone, where oxygen is scarce and each step can take a minute. Angmo moved slowly, focusing on her breathing, her footing, her purpose. "At that altitude, every step hurts. I just kept repeating in my head: I'm not doing this just for me. I'm doing it for everyone who's ever been told they can't." By 8.30 am the next morning, she was there — at 8,849 m. The world's highest point. She couldn't see it. But she knew. "The wind was fierce. My Sherpas were telling me about the peaks below. I couldn't hold back my tears." Back to reality, eyes still shut—but wide open Today, Angmo lives alone in Delhi. She takes the metro to work, cooks her own meals, visits friends. But her story is far from over. "Everest isn't the end. It's the beginning," she said. "Next, I want to climb the Seven Summits." Her story adds a new chapter to global mountaineering history — and a proud page to India's. Graphic Blind Faith, High Point: Scaling the Invisible box1 Chhonzin Angmo's Road to Summit >> April 6 | Departs Delhi >> April 10 | Begins Everest Base Camp trek from Lukla >> April 18 | Reaches base camp; starts 26-day acclimatisation >> May 15 | Reaches Camp 1 >> May 16-18 | Climbs through Camps 2 to 4 >> May 19, 8.30 am | Reaches the summit of Mount Everest box 2 The famous 5: Everest's Sightless Pioneers >> Erik Weihenmayer (US) | First blind person to summit Everest (2001); completed Seven Summits >> Andy Holzer (Austria) | Summited Everest in 2017 via Tibet >> Zhang Hong (China) | First blind Asian climber to summit (2021) >> Lonnie Bedwell (US) | Blind Navy veteran summited in 2023 >> Chhonzin Angmo (India) | First blind woman to summit Everest (2025) box3 No Legs, But What A Feat! Other Indian physically challenged mountaineers:- >> Arunima Sinha | Second amputee in the world to summit Everest (2013) >> Chitrasen Sahu | Double amputee (called Half Human Robo); climbed Mt Elbrus and Kilimanjaro >> Uday Kumar | Amputee climber; scaled Kilimanjaro and Mt Rhenock >> Tinkesh Kaushik | First triple amputee to reach Everest base camp box 4 "To climb Everest, you don't just need strength. You need a reason," Angmo said. She found hers in the dark. And she carried it all the way to the top of the world. MSID:: 121547482 413 |
