logo
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o: The Kenyan Icon Who Wrote For Freedom Till the Very End

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o: The Kenyan Icon Who Wrote For Freedom Till the Very End

The Wire4 days ago

Menu
हिंदी తెలుగు اردو
Home Politics Economy World Security Law Science Society Culture Editor's Pick Opinion
Support independent journalism. Donate Now
Culture
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o: The Kenyan Icon Who Wrote For Freedom Till the Very End
Nandini C. Sen
36 minutes ago
Ngugi chose to write in his mother tongue Gikuyu and argued that his stories need to reach his own people and stir their nationalist consciousness.
Ngũgĩ-wa-Thiong'o (1938-2025). Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Real journalism holds power accountable
Since 2015, The Wire has done just that.
But we can continue only with your support.
Contribute now
'The condition of women in a nation is the real measure of its progress.' ― Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o
The world of literature and activism lost one of its best with the demise of the Kenyan writer Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. Ngugi was that rare writer who stood for everything he preached – respect for women, love for the mother tongue, standing up against the colonial mindset, standing up for one's rights and revising the historical wrongs of the British Colonial regime. This came at a great price – incarceration and banishment from his home country Kenya and a lifelong war with the powers that be.
I was introduced to Ngugi's Decolonising the Mind (1986) in my Master's class at JNU and it gave me a whole new way to look at the world as I knew it. I realised that the 'freedom' that I had taken for granted was not something one could take lightly. It was something one had to fight for constantly. One also learnt how the nature of colonialism had changed – it was no longer a story of the White dominance over the Blacks/Browns but an insidious takeover by the corporates who enslaved our minds and held us hostage. This colonisation had a worse stranglehold because it was difficult to identify the coloniser since they now looked like us.
Ngugi shot into fame with his debut novel Weep Not, Child (1964), the first novel to be published from East Africa. Ngugi's oeuvre can be compared only to that of Chinua Achebe's who was responsible for reading the manuscripts of The River Between and Weep Not, Child which were published by Heinemann with Achebe as its advisory editor. It was with Achebe that Ngugi's famous 'language debate' gained prominence and became a staple for every student of postcolonial studies.
While Achebe chooses to write in English in spite of it being the language of the colonisers, Ngugi argues against it and chooses to write in his mother tongue Gikuyu. Ngugi argues that his stories need to reach his own people and stir their nationalist consciousness.
To this effect he and Micere Mugo wrote the famous play on the Mau Mau leader Dedan Kimathi. The Trial of Dedan Kimathi (1976) taught in Delhi University, until very recently, recreates the indomitable courage of the Mau Mau revolutionary and his right-hand person – a woman warrior. While Kimathi remains in jail, it is 'the woman' – representing Kenyan mothers – who tries to free him and in turn train the next generation for the struggle. The role of Kenyan women in the Mau Mau movement (Kenyan freedom struggle) is a historical reality.
Ngugi's female characters are strong, bold and determined – towering over the men in sheer brilliance. In his world view, the mothers of the nation rule supreme, challenging the existing stereotypes of dependent women. These women do not exist merely to take care of their home and hearth; they work towards nation-building. He creates them in the mould of Mother Africa, thus adhering towards the Negritude Movement.
In A Grain of Wheat (1967), Ngugi writes about Wambui, who 'believed in the power of women to influence events, especially where men had failed to act, or seemed indecisive… Let therefore such men, she jeered, come forward, wear the women's skirts and aprons and give up their trousers to the women.' Wambui helps the Mau Mau warriors, and it is her conviction that her land can only be free once it is rid of the colonisers. Unlike many men who are seen to be supporting the British policies, Wambui is clear-headed about what is best for her people.
About the dual nature of colonialism, Ngugi wrote, 'He carried the Bible; the soldier carried the gun; the administrator and the settler carried the coin. Christianity, Commerce, Civilization: the Bible, the Coin, the Gun: Holy Trinity.' Ngugi spent his entire life exposing this unholy trinity through his powerful writing.
Ngugi, christened James Ngugi at birth, was one of the 28 children born to the four wives of his father in precolonial Kenya. Growing up, Ngugi witnessed the forced takeover of lands by the British imperialists; he was witness to multiple arrests and tortures his people were subjected to, and he also witnessed the harassment his own father had to face. It was then that he slowly realised that the colonial forces were there to destroy and not to build.
His evolving worldview led him to give up his Christian name, and he started to go by the name of Ngugi Wa Thiong'o. He argued that the English departments in Kenyan Universities should start to focus on the study of indigenous languages of Kenya. Challenging the 'centrality' of London and the 'othering' faced by colonised countries, Ngugi argued in favour of centring Africa and studying other cultures in relation to it. Ngugi was a strong advocate on Fanonist Marxism.
'Language as culture is the collective memory bank of a people's experience in history.' writes Ngugi in Decolonising the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature where he argues in favour of the indigenous languages because he sees language not merely as a means of communication but as a carrier and repository of culture. To this end, he gave up writing in English and wrote in his mother tongue Gikiyu.
His co-authoring of a play in Gikiyu, I Will Marry When I Want (1977), which dealt with the controversial themes of poverty, gender, class and religion in the post-colonial context, led to his incarceration. While in his cell, where he was housed with other political prisoners, he wrote The Devil on The Cross (1980) on prison-issued toilet paper.
It was here that he thought more closely about the language question and decided to continue writing only in Gikiyu.
Ngugi was the first in his family to be educated, though he spent the better part of his life in exile, where he served as visiting professor of English and comparative literature at Yale University and later a professor of comparative literature and performance studies at New York University where he held the Erich Maria Remarque Chair. He served as distinguished professor of English and comparative literature and was the first director of the International Center for Writing and Translation at the University of California, Irvine.
Ngugi will continue to be missed. I was fortunate to be able to meet him in person at the African Literary Association Conference in Accra, Ghana, in 2008. A mild-mannered and unassuming person, he waxed lyrical about the unity of African cultures.
Ngugi was deeply interested in India and in his novel The Wizard of the Crow, he mentions The Gita, the Upanishads and the women writers of India. A prolific writer and an activist till the very end, Ngugi was also a perpetual contender for the Nobel.
Commenting on the current governments and drawing parallels, Ngugi wrote, 'Our fathers fought bravely. But do you know the biggest weapon unleashed by the enemy against them? It was not the Maxim gun. It was division among them. Why? Because a people united in faith are stronger than the bomb.'
His words reflect what we see playing out in our modern societies, which allow for totalitarian regimes at the cost of the divisiveness of their people.
Nandini C. Sen is a professor of English at Delhi University who specialises in Anglophone African Literature.
Make a contribution to Independent Journalism
Related News
Ngugi wa Thiong'o, the Giant of African Literature, Dies at 87
Entries Invited For Third Edition of Rainbow Awards for Literature and Journalism
The Politics of 'Heart Lamp' Is Profound, Urgent and Reflects the Lived Reality of Millions
Interview | Tracing Maithili Writer Shivashankar Shrinivas's Literary Journey
'In Honour of William Shakespeare': Tagore in the Garden of Shakespeare's Birthplace
A Decade of Living Dangerously: The Wire Marks its 10th Year with Pressing Unmute in Naya India
Daud Haider, Bangladesh's First Poet to be Exiled, Passes Away at 73
Listen: India's Reaction to Turkey is Understandable, But We Should Not Give Up on Diplomacy with it
'Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning' Is an Operatic and Reverential, but Bloated Farewell
About Us
Contact Us
Support Us
© Copyright. All Rights Reserved.

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

India's Little-Known Role in African Slave Trade
India's Little-Known Role in African Slave Trade

The Wire

time21 hours ago

  • The Wire

India's Little-Known Role in African Slave Trade

Slave Dealers and Slaves Zanzibar. Photo: Wikimedia commons Real journalism holds power accountable Since 2015, The Wire has done just that. But we can continue only with your support. Contribute Now The role of African slaves in India and the participation of Indians in slave administration has, until recently, received little attention. Africans were not the first people enslaved in India, but Arab traders trafficked them to the subcontinent as early as the 6th century CE. One of the first known cases involved an Ethiopian, Jamal ud-Din Yaqut, who became Master of the Royal Stables in Delhi in 1236. By the 14th century, African slave trading grew, as Indian authorities exploited maritime networks linking Africa and India. Indian goods were highly prized in Africa and were exchanged for gold, ivory and Ethiopian slaves. Trade in slaves was one of several exchanges connecting the Indian subcontinent with East Africa, creating a diverse and interconnected commercial system that thrived for centuries. Arab dhows crossed the Indian Ocean in regular monsoon-driven voyages, carrying slaves, spices, textiles and metals. These maritime routes helped entrench African presence along India's coastal cities, such as Surat, Calicut and Cochin, which functioned as critical nodes in this transoceanic slave network. An eyewitness The diversity of African arrivals also complicates the simplistic binary of slave and free. Some Africans arrived as merchants or seafarers in their own right, contributing to the cosmopolitan character of port cities like Cambay and Bharuch. The famed Berber traveller Ibn Battuta, who was born in Tangier in 1304, journeyed extensively across vast parts of Asia and Africa in the 14th century. He encountered thousands of African slaves during his travels, observing Abyssinian guards, shipmen, and warriors deployed across the subcontinent. It was during his second journey that Ibn Battuta made his way across the Indian subcontinent, the Maldives, Sri Lanka and China, before returning to North Africa. During his time in India, he came across Habashis (as the Ethiopian slaves were known) distributed throughout the subcontinent, from northern India to Ceylon. They were employed primarily as guards or men-at-arms on land or at sea. In July 1342, for example, he was south-east of Delhi, in the town of Allapur in Uttar Pradesh: 'The governor of Alabur [Allapur] was the Abyssinian Badr, a slave of the sultan's, a man whose bravery passed into a proverb. He was continually making raids on the infidels alone and single handed, killing and taking captive, so that his fame spread far and wide and the infidels went in fear of him. He was tall and corpulent, and used to eat a whole sheep at a meal, and I was told that after eating he would drink about a pound and a half of ghee, following the custom of the Abyssinians in their own country.' Ibn Battuta encountered African slaves in the southern Indian city called Qandahar (today the village of Ghandar on the mouth of the Dhandar river in Gujarat), where he describes meeting Ibrahim, the owner of six ships. 'We embarked on a ship belonging to Ibrahim … called al-Jagir. On this ship we put seventy of the horses of the sultan's present …[Ibrahim] sent his son with us on a ship called al-Uqayri, which resembles a galley, but is rather broader; it has sixty oars and is covered with a roof during battle in order to protect the rowers from arrows and stones. I myself went on board al-Jagir, which had a complement of fifty rowers and fifty Abyssinian men-at-arms. These latter are the guarantors of safety on the Indian Ocean; let there be but one of them on a ship and it will be avoided by the Indian pirates and idolaters.' Ibn Battuta then travelled to Colombo in Ceylon (Sri Lanka), where he again found the ruler guarded by 'about five hundred Abyssinians.' When Ibn Battuta arrived in the Indian port of Calicut he saw a fleet of huge Chinese junks, each with four decks carrying up to 1,000 troops on board. The ships were highly sophisticated, with sailors having their wives and slave-girls living in their cabins, which were complete with latrines. Security was – once more – provided by Africans. 'The owner's factor [or agent] on board ship is like a great amir. When he goes on shore he is preceded by archers and Abyssinians with javelins, swords, drums, bugles and trumpets.' The African presence in India, particularly in military contexts, also had a psychological and symbolic dimension. Africans were often perceived as loyal, physically strong, and strategically useful because they were outside traditional kinship networks. This made them ideal as bodyguards, palace guards, and elite soldiers, as their loyalty was presumed to lie solely with their patron. Their position within Indian courts and armies was sometimes precarious, but it could also be a pathway to influence and even power. Importantly, African troops played a stabilizing role in many of India's volatile princely states, serving as both protectors and enforcers, their foreign origins ensuring loyalty that transcended local rivalries. African slaves become rulers African slaves primarily served as troops. Some gained prominence – Bengal's Rukh-ud-din Barbak reportedly maintained an Ethiopian army of 8,000, his son expanding it to 20,000. Others, like Malik Ambar, rose even further. Malik Amber. Photo: Wikimedia commons. Born in Harangue, Ethiopia, Ambar was enslaved and brought to Baghdad, then India. He served under Chengiz Khan, a former Ethiopian slave turned statesman. Freed after his master's death, Ambar joined the military of various Indian rulers. By the 1590s, he led a cavalry force in Ahmednagar and resisted Mughal incursions using guerrilla tactics. He backed a new sultan and married his daughter into the royal family, consolidating his influence. Ambar's military campaigns were often characterized by their strategic use of terrain and speed, making his forces elusive and difficult for the Mughal armies to counter effectively. As regent, Ambar implemented reforms and infrastructure projects, including a water system still in use today. He repeatedly thwarted Mughal forces – even Emperor Jahangir, who had insulted Ambar racially. Jahangir's frustration with Ambar is evident in his pejorative references, calling him 'the black-faced one' or 'the crafty one..' but these slights ultimately gave way to reluctant admiration. In his official memoir, the Emperor Jahangir reversed his assessment of his opponent, declaring that although a slave, Ambar was nonetheless 'an able man. In warfare, in command, in sound judgement, and in administration he had no rival or equal…. He maintained his exalted position to the end of his life and closed his career in honour. History records no other instance of an Abyssinian slave arriving at such eminence.' Ambar's political acumen extended beyond the battlefield. He maintained a complex network of alliances with other regional powers and made use of marriage diplomacy to strengthen his hold over Ahmednagar. He also sought to establish a bureaucratic apparatus that could outlast him, introducing land reforms and encouraging the cultivation of previously unproductive areas. These measures helped secure resources for his military campaigns and built a stronger economic base for the sultanate. He was equally committed to cultural patronage, commissioning buildings and supporting learning, thereby carving a legacy that extended beyond war. He was also instrumental in defending Deccan autonomy against the Mughal encroachment. Ambar's tactics of asymmetrical warfare and his ability to mobilise diverse ethnic groups under his command contributed to his enduring reputation as one of India's great military innovators. Ambar died in 1626. Though his son surrendered Ahmednagar to the Mughals in 1633, Ambar's transformation from slave to kingmaker remains remarkable. Between 1486 and 1493 alone, four Ethiopian commanders rose to rule Indian states. Their stories highlight how military slavery in India differed from other parts of the world: rather than being a terminal condition, it could provide upward mobility, status, and, in rare cases, sovereignty. The unique context of Indo-African relations, especially within Islamic polities, often facilitated the elevation of capable individuals, regardless of origin. Indians administer the slave trade India's involvement in African slavery extended abroad. Indian merchants were key players in the Omani-led East African slave trade. Oman, lacking natural resources, relied on trade and enslaved labour. From the 1st century CE, Omanis traded along the Swahili coast, importing slaves – especially light-skinned women – for domestic service. Many of these slaves were destined for service in elite households, as concubines, wet nurses, or servants. The trade was driven by the high demand for African labour and the prestige associated with owning African slaves, especially among the merchant elite. Indian traders, especially in Muscat and later Zanzibar, dominated commerce in coffee and pearls, served as bankers, and helped administer the slave trade. After the Portuguese were ousted from Muscat in 1650, Oman expanded its African holdings. Under Sultan Said bin Sultan (r. 1804–1856), Zanzibar became the new capital, centred on clove plantations worked by slaves. The move was a calculated effort to align the Omani economy with the booming global demand for spices. Indian merchants followed, forming a major commercial presence along the coast. They managed customs, extended loans, and owned slave-run plantations. The Indian community also maintained close ties with the Omani court, and some Indian families wielded significant political influence. Although Britain abolished slavery in 1833, enforcement was slow. By 1860, over 8,000 slaves owned by Indians were officially freed in Zanzibar – despite British law having banned the practice decades earlier. This underlines the ambivalence of colonial authorities, who were often reluctant to disrupt local economies and elite interests. In some instances, Indian-owned plantations were larger and more profitable than those of their Arab counterparts. Wealthy Indian families invested heavily in infrastructure and trade networks, further entrenching the institution of slavery in the region. The Indian community in Zanzibar and East Africa often maintained cultural and commercial links with Gujarat and Bombay, reinforcing the transoceanic dimensions of this trade. Many Indian-run firms operating in East Africa kept detailed records and accounts of their transactions, making it clear that slavery was not a peripheral or incidental activity, but an integral component of their economic strategies. The entanglement of Indians in the East African slave trade was not limited to merchants alone. Clerks, shipbuilders, and middlemen were all complicit in the system. Some Indians served as slave overseers or worked in ports where captured Africans were processed and sold. Sir Bartle Frere, the British governor of Bombay who visited Zanzibar in 1873, remarked that 'Throughout the Zanzibar coastline … all banking and mortgage business passes through Indian hands. Hardly a single loan can be negotiated, a mortgage effected, or a bill cashed without Indian agency.' This complicity is rarely acknowledged today, yet it is essential for understanding the full scope of the Indian Ocean slave trade. The legacy today While slavery officially ended, its legacy lingered. In India, the Sidis – descendants of African slaves – were gradually integrated. Janjira and Sachin, princely states ruled by Sidis, existed until Indian independence in 1947. The rulers of these states, though relatively minor in comparison to larger princely territories, held real power and maintained their autonomy under British indirect rule. Their courts often mirrored Indian traditions, but also retained distinct African elements, such as Sidi drumming and Swahili phrases in ceremonial contexts. The Sidi community itself is diverse, with roots tracing back to different waves of African migration and enslavement. While some Sidis were brought as slaves, others arrived as soldiers, traders, or musicians. The integration process varied regionally: in Gujarat, for instance, Sidis maintained a distinct identity, while in other parts of India, they assimilated more fully into local populations. Oral histories, religious rituals, and festivals continue to reflect the syncretic nature of their heritage, blending African, Islamic, and Hindu influences. Today, around 100,000 Sidis live in Gujarat, Karnataka and other regions of India. Many retain Swahili musical traditions. Sidi drumming and dance performances are popular in some areas and have gained recognition in India's cultural landscape. In Pakistan, a further 150,000 Sidis reside, often in poverty and facing racial discrimination. Their marginalisation reflects the lasting scars of a long and often overlooked history. Detail of Jamal-ud-Din Yaqut from a miniature painting of Razia Sultana holding court (durbar) with identifying inscriptions, by Gulam Ali Khan, circa 19th century. Photo: Wikimedia commons. Media depictions and social stigma frequently reinforce harmful stereotypes, further limiting access to opportunities. Yaqoob Qambrani, President of the Pakistan Sheedi Ittehad, complained that many opportunities are closed to them because of discrimination in education and work. 'In Qambrani's views, the deep-rooted culture of blaming and shaming 'black-face' in Pakistan has held them in chains of associated stereotypes. Sheedis are portrayed as '…the evils, thieves and unwanted. For instance, when anyone from our community boards a public transport bus, everyone else tries to keep their distance. We are not blind to watch how others look and treat us', Qambrani declared. Despite centuries of presence, many Sidis still struggle with access to education, employment, and healthcare. Activists have called for affirmative action and greater government recognition of their unique heritage. In recent years, Sidi youth have increasingly used digital platforms to share their stories and celebrate their culture, forging transnational ties with African-descended communities in the diaspora. Projects linking Sidis with African communities in Brazil and East Africa have fostered renewed interest in shared histories and solidarity movements. Africa's entangled history with South Asia – spanning commerce, migration, and enslavement – deserves greater attention. From the rise of figures like Malik Ambar to the quiet endurance of Sidi communities, the legacy of African presence in India remains potent and deeply human. As scholarship expands and awareness grows, the contributions and struggles of Africans in South Asia are beginning to receive the recognition they deserve. This history is not merely a footnote – it is a vital part of the global story of movement, power, and resistance. The shared legacy of the Indian Ocean world – connecting Mombasa, Mumbai, Muscat, and beyond – offers a powerful lens through which to explore themes of agency, adaptation and survival. Understanding these connections not only enriches our knowledge of the past but also challenges us to confront the enduring legacies of racism, marginalisation, and inequality in our present world. Martin Plaut is the author of Unbroken Chains: A 5,000-Year History of African Enslavement, to be published by Hurst, August 2025

An Account of 19th-Century Western India in Narmadashankar Dave's Autobiography
An Account of 19th-Century Western India in Narmadashankar Dave's Autobiography

The Wire

timea day ago

  • The Wire

An Account of 19th-Century Western India in Narmadashankar Dave's Autobiography

Menu हिंदी తెలుగు اردو Home Politics Economy World Security Law Science Society Culture Editor's Pick Opinion Support independent journalism. Donate Now books An Account of 19th-Century Western India in Narmadashankar Dave's Autobiography Digvijay Nikam 6 minutes ago Originally titled 'Mari Hakikat', Narmad's autobiography was written in 1866 and is often considered the first autobiography written in Gujarati. A new English translation provides a riveting portrait of 19th-century western India. Narmadashankar Dave. Photo: Public domain Real journalism holds power accountable Since 2015, The Wire has done just that. But we can continue only with your support. Contribute now The 18th-century philosopher and writer Jean-Jacques Rousseau, knowing that he is no monarch nor an aristocrat nor saint, begins his pioneering autobiographical account Confessions with an announcement: 'I have resolved on an enterprise which has no precedent.' With a new class of the public beginning to narrativise itself, providing a satisfying rationale for its existence became a staple of the modern autobiography. In 19th century western India, Narmadashankar Dave's equally seminal autobiography begins with a hesitation: 'That someone like me should write his own account and then publish it during his lifetime may seem inappropriate to others – I am neither pandit, nor warrior, nor religious leader, nor dhoti-clad merchant-prince.' To exonerate himself of any charges of vanity, Narmad already has a list of objectives in place for his book – but like Rousseau, his first objective is: 'It is not a practice to write about oneself. I want to start this practice.' Originally titled Mari Hakikat, Narmad's autobiography – an account of the first 33 years of his life – was written in 1866 and is often considered the first autobiography written in Gujarati. Though, given his wish, the first complete edition of the book was not published until 1933, almost five decades after his death. Abhijit Kothari's excellent translation of the book published under the 'Chronicles' series of non-fiction translations by the Ashoka Centre for Translation and Penguin breathes new life into this portrait of a 19th-century intellectual from Gujarat. The making of an intellectual in 19th-century western India Born in 1833 in Surat, Narmad belonged to a Nagar Brahmin family. Over his lifetime he donned many hats including that of a poet, essayist, literary critic, reformer, lexicographer and historian. In the popular public imagination, he is celebrated as 'Kavi Narmad' for having written Jay Jay Garvi Gujarat (Hail to Thee, Glorious Gujarat), a poem delineating the sacred geography of Gujarat. The poem is now used as the state's anthem. On the other hand, for the Gujarati literary community, he is seen as the architect of modern Gujarati literature, not only for his remarkable role in shaping modern Gujarati language but also for enriching Gujarati prose by introducing genres like the essay and autobiography. My Truth is then a critical account for understanding how such a figure comes into being. Narmadashankar Dave, translated by Abhijit Kothari My Truth Penguin Random House India and Ashoka Centre for Translation, 2025 Narmad writes the book in the form of notes. Each chapter, which he calls a ' Viram ' (halt), consists of a series of notes that read like diary entries. Often, they do not follow a narrative logic. Surprisingly, the first 'Viram' gives an extensive account of his Nagar Brahminical lineage which Narmad argues is not to assert any pride but to educate his fellow caste members who are often ignorant of the community's history. A large part of the book following this is dedicated to Narmad's life in the education system both as a student and a teacher. In his introduction to the book, Kothari notes two important developments of 19th-century western India that constitute the intellectual environment for Narmad. The first is the advent of a new system of education that brought together vernacular and English language teaching. The second is the proliferation of a vernacular print culture with newspapers, periodicals, magazines and books, especially school textbooks, getting produced in Gujarati and finding circulation within an emerging reading culture consisting primarily of upper-caste Gujarati Brahmins and Parsi elites. Narmad's autobiography in many ways provides a window to the everyday life of this world of vernacular print culture. We come to know about issues of Buddhiprakash being read in his house or him submitting material to Rast Goftar and Samsherbahadur or controversies like the Maharaj Libel Case unfolding in the local newspapers. Unmaking the 'myth' of Narmad In public discourse, historical figures like Narmad are quickly turned into larger-than-life characters (novelist Saroj Pathak once called Narmad 'divine'). However, My Truth is a record that undoes the myth of Narmad. We learn about his nightmares as a superstitious child, his financial difficulties, his anxieties that drive him to be a poet, his failures but also his contradictions. For instance, the well-known episode of Narmad's turn to writing when he quit his job at Elphinstone School declaring: 'I came home and with tearful eyes, looked at my pen and said, 'Henceforth, I seek refuge in your lap.'' is preceded by a long period of depression at the death of his first wife and child. In another chapter we learn that the reformer Narmad who regularly writes and speaks about avoiding adultery and intoxicants is himself not distant from these practices. The honesty in revealing these details to the public provides a blueprint for later figures like Gandhi who also interestingly titled his autobiography My Experiments with Truth. One of the most engaging sections of the book is where we encounter Narmad's constant banters with his senior contemporary, the poet Dalpatram. On one hand, their difficult relationship is a reflection of the transformations underway in Gujarati poetry and its modes of patronage; and on the other, it is a story of aspiration and envy between two generations of writers. It is here that we witness Kothari's strength as a translator. He retains the simplicity and the informal quality of Narmad's prose. As readers we soon get used to the rhythm of the autobiography despite its absence of a narrative form. Yet it is essential to remember that My Truth is only a partial account of Narmad's life which was to take severe turns going forward. The reader would not know that the reformer (or ' sudharak ' as they say in Gujarati) who had advocated for a 'radical' transformation of Hindu society through 'reason' and 'justice' was to turn conservative by the end of his life, becoming an enthusiast of traditional caste and religious practices. For that we would need another translation, perhaps from Kothari – that of the Uttar Narmad Charitra, a compilation of Narmad's letters and notes from the last two decades of his life that was done by Natwarlal Desai in 1939. But that can wait. For now, we can immerse ourselves in this riveting portrait of 19th-century western India that Kothari's translation has made possible. Digvijay Nikam is a PhD student at the Centre for English Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. His work deals with modernist print culture from western India. Make a contribution to Independent Journalism Related News Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o: The Kenyan Icon Who Wrote For Freedom Till the Very End 'More Important Than Ever to Speak Truth to Power': Stephen Sackur on BBC Exit and His New Book Their Shrines Demolished, Muslims in Gujarat's Gir Somnath Have Nowhere to Look for Hope Entries Invited For Third Edition of Rainbow Awards for Literature and Journalism Leaders' Silence Questioned After Gujarat Dalit Man Allegedly Killed Over Addressing Teen as 'Beta' The Politics of 'Heart Lamp' Is Profound, Urgent and Reflects the Lived Reality of Millions Interview | Tracing Maithili Writer Shivashankar Shrinivas's Literary Journey The Gujarat Evictions and the Weaponisation of National Security 'Gujarat Samachar' Co-Owner Bahubali Shah's Arrest and Bail: Here's What Happened View in Desktop Mode About Us Contact Us Support Us © Copyright. All Rights Reserved.

‘Gruff Genius': Tiger Conservationist Valmik Thapar Dies At 73
‘Gruff Genius': Tiger Conservationist Valmik Thapar Dies At 73

The Wire

time2 days ago

  • The Wire

‘Gruff Genius': Tiger Conservationist Valmik Thapar Dies At 73

Menu हिंदी తెలుగు اردو Home Politics Economy World Security Law Science Society Culture Editor's Pick Opinion Support independent journalism. Donate Now Top Stories 'Gruff Genius': Tiger Conservationist Valmik Thapar Dies At 73 Aathira Perinchery 14 minutes ago Thapar authored more than 30 books, including Tigers: The Secret Life (1989), The Last Tiger (2006) and Living With Tigers (2016). Tiger conservationist Valmik Thapar. Photo: Real journalism holds power accountable Since 2015, The Wire has done just that. But we can continue only with your support. Contribute now Bengaluru: Valmik Thapar (73), one of India's fiercest tiger conservationists, and filmmaker and author of more than 30 books, died at New Delhi at his residence on the night of May 30, following an illness. He is survived by his wife and son. Senior Congress leader and former union environment Minister Jairam Ramesh who also was the chair of the parliamentary Standing Committee on Science and Technology, Environment, Forests and Climate Change, called it a 'great loss'. 'During my tenure as Chairman of the Standing Committee also he was a constant source of many valuable suggestions and advice. We had arguments but it was always an education to listen to him, full of passion and concern. He was truly an unforgettable one of a kind,' Ramesh added. Stepping into tiger conservation In the mid-1970s, Thapar's fascination for the tiger grew under the tutelage of Fateh Singh Rathore, former park director of Ranthambore Tiger Reserve and National Park. Thapar spent a lot of his time at the Park, tracking, observing and studying the tigers he so loved. He also worked closely with Tiger Watch, a non-profit organisation that Rathore set up for tiger conservation in Sawai Madhopur, Rajasthan. In 1987, Thapar founded the Ranthambore Foundation, to work closely with local communities around the Park. The Foundation launched several welfare programmes such as installing biogas plants in villages so that people would not have to go into forests for firewood, which could bring them into close proximity with tigers. Thapar authored more than 30 books, including Tigers: The Secret Life (1989), The Last Tiger (2006) and Living With Tigers (2016). Thapar was also a prolific filmmaker and wildlife presenter, and is perhaps most well-known for narrating the BBC series Land of The Tiger in 1997, in his trademark booming baritone. Thapar spent nearly five decades advocating for the tiger, and was part of more than 150 state and union government committees. Among them is the Tiger Task Force – constituted by the UPA government that was then in power, following the emptying of Sariska Tiger Reserve of all its tigers – of which he was appointed a member in 2005. 'His gruff genius is what it took for India and the world to acknowledge the tiger's magnificence' Thapar was a staunch critic of the way Project Tiger was run, and the bureaucratic hurdles that came in the way of tiger conservation. He didn't mince words, and often wrote to officials – including chief ministers and prime ministers – pointing out concerns and recommending solutions. He was also an advocate of protectionism, and believed that protected areas had to be inviolate of people; that people had to be removed from these areas to really foster tiger conservation. And yet, Thapar was clear that tigers that were dangerous had to be eliminated or taken away from parks. For instance, he was extremely vocal about how dangerous T-24 – a male tiger in Ranthambore that had killed people including forest guards and partially eaten its kills – was. In 2017, the Sanctuary Nature Foundation conferred on him their Lifetime Service Award – one among many he has received over the years. 'Author of 32 books, including four on Africa, presenter of 16 international documentary films, and an excellent orator, Valmik Thapar's gruff genius is what it took for India and the world to sit up and acknowledge the tiger's magnificence, its predicament, and the urgency for conservation. And for this, we honour him,' Sanctuary's note reads. Make a contribution to Independent Journalism Related News Two Forests Is RBI's New Plan for Bad Loans Just Another Quick Fix? India's Net Foreign Direct Investment Plummets by 96.5% to Reach Record Low Full Text: India is Getting Re-Hyphenated With Pakistan Because Under Modi We're Democratically Regressing India Needs a Clear National Security Strategy—Now More Than Ever China's Latest White Paper is on National Security in the New Era Rise in Share of Profit in GVA Has Not Translated into Increase in Wages: Report Lone NC MP in All-Party Delegations to Not Join His Group, Cites Urs at Native Village After the NEP Verdict, Education Is No Longer the Union Govt's Weapon About Us Contact Us Support Us © Copyright. All Rights Reserved.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store