Who is the new Pope and what does Habemus Papam mean? White smoke seen in Vatican
What does Habemus Papam mean?
"Habemus Papam" is Latin for "We have a Pope." It is the traditional announcement made in Latin by the senior cardinal deacon from the balcony of St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican City to proclaim the election of a new pope following a papal conclave. The phrase introduces the newly elected pontiff, including his chosen papal name, to the public. For example, after Jorge Mario Bergoglio's election in 2013, the announcement was: 'Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum: Habemus Papam! Eminentissimum ac Reverendissimum Dominum, Dominum Georgium Marium, Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem Bergoglio, qui sibi nomen imposuit Franciscum' ('I announce to you a great joy: We have a Pope! The most eminent and most reverend Lord, Lord Jorge Mario, Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church Bergoglio, who has taken for himself the name Francis').
Who is the new Pope?
The identity of the new Pope has not been revealed yet. Italian Cardinal Pietro Parolin appeared as the front runner. Filipino Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle appeared as the second favorite.
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Who was Frank Caprio? The 'nice', beloved Rhode Island judge dies after cancer battle
A retired and 'nice' municipal judge in Rhode Island, Frank Caprio, known globally for his compassion and modesty in the courtroom, "passed away peacefully" at 88 following 'a long and courageous battle with pancreatic cancer". 'Unfortunately, I've had a setback. I'm back in the hospital now and I'm coming to you again asking you to remember me in your prayers once more,' he posted on Instagram prior to his demise. Frank Caprio was born in 1936 in the Federal Hill neighborhood of Providence to Italian immigrant parents. Raised in a tight-knit family, he took on various small jobs during his childhood, shining shoes, delivering newspapers, and helping out on a milk truck. Caprio leaves behind his beloved wife Joyce, with whom he spent more than 60 years of married life, as per reports. They built a family together, raising five children, and were later blessed with seven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. Caprio's modest beginnings and early work instilled in him a deep appreciation for perseverance and family responsibility. These foundational values guided him through law school at Suffolk University and laid the groundwork for a life of service in the legal field. Appointed to the Providence Municipal Court in 1985, he went on to serve for nearly four decades. His courtroom gained national recognition through the television series Caught in Providence, which highlighted his compassionate approach and was nominated for a Daytime Emmy in 2021. Caprio's rulings were often influenced by his personal life. Drawing on his experiences as a devoted husband, father, and grandfather, he brought empathy and humanity to the bench, principles deeply rooted in his family values, Economic Times reported. Outside the courtroom, Judge Frank Caprio's deep connection to family also shaped his philanthropic work. He served as chair of the Rhode Island Board of Governors for Higher Education and established scholarships in memory of his father, Antonio 'Tup' Caprio, to support students in need. In his 2025 memoir Compassion in the Court, Caprio looked back on his life with a focus on both his legal journey and the central role his children and grandchildren played throughout it. Tributes flooded social media following his passing, highlighting how his heartfelt rulings and public service were a natural extension of the love and values he held for his family.
The Print
4 days ago
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Postcards from Hyderabad—stories Europeans told about the city
This article, however, is less about the politics of representation—though those debates are in your face and inevitably seep into the conversation. The ghost of the Edwardian nazar (postcolonial gaze) lingers in the corners, impossible to ignore. My intention here is somewhat different: above all else, this is an essay about Hyderabad , a city that has joined the places I now carry with me. What forms the basis of imperial fascination with Hyderabad? Which 'lives' of the city are deemed worthy of remembrance ? (As a brief aside, it is worth noting that the word souvenir derives from the Latin subvenire , meaning 'to occur to the mind,' or more simply, 'to remember.') The postcards often featured the lifeworlds of the imperial subjects, reflecting the empire's unsurprising desire to 'see' its subjects and their worlds. Postcards became an apparatus of imperial representation. These images participated in the construction of what Palestinian-American academic and literary critic Edward Said might call an 'Orientalist mise-en-scène'—picturesque, passive, and eminently collectible. Although ostensibly epistolary, postcards were also ethnographic. At its core, the idea of a postcard is deceptively simple: a portable visual object, often functioning as a souvenir of place, memory, or moment. Between the 1890s and the 1920s was a period now called the 'postcard boom'. Enabled by improvements in lithographic printing, postal reforms, and the growing mobility of bodies and images across empires, the postcard emerged as the perfect distillation of modernity: portable, pictorial, and public. A postcard is often a declaration of 'I have been here'. The idea of coupling an image with proof of presence is hardly unfamiliar to a generation fluent in Instagram stories. Curiously, a postcard from the early 20th century (reproduced below) contains this very declaration as its caption. Issued by A. Abid & Company of Hyderabad, it features a panoramic view of the Nizam's Charminar Palace, surrounded by a reservoir, garden, palm tree, and a fountain. This palace was also the residence of Albert Abid, an Armenian-origin Chamberlain to the Nizam and owner of the postcard firm, along with his wife Annie. Hyderabadis will know 'Abids' as a commercial complex that continues to stand on over 150 years of local history. Albert and Annie enjoyed being in close quarters to the Nizam, but their curious life and story is one for another telling. Abid & Co. was a major local player in Hyderabad's postcard trade, curating an impressive collection that showcased the city's iconic landmarks: Charminar, Golconda Fort, Mecca Masjid, among others. Globally, however, the dominant player was Raphael Tuck & Sons, a London-based publisher renowned for its lavish, hand-tinted postcards and its close ties to the British royal family, distributing imperial imagery across continents. Hyderabad was not as much a darling of the Raphael Tuck &Sons catalogue as Calcutta, Bombay, or Madras. Even so, the postcard's memorialisation of Hyderabad forms the ground for thoughtful scholarship. One postcard that I find particularly fascinating is titled 'Hyderabad. Arms Sellers'. It was released in 1908 by Raphael Tuck & Sons, as part of their 'Native Life in India Series II'. The richly coloured postcard paints the princely state of Hyderabad through a lens of exoticism and martial nobility. Three dark-skinned men, wearing richly hued turbans and flowing garments, seated amid a gleaming display of curved swords and weaponry. The postcard perfectly confirmed Orientalist fantasies, a place where swords gleamed and men wore colourful turbans. Hyderabad was historically notable for its tradition of arms manufacturing and trading, particularly during the Nizam's rule in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The city had a substantial presence of arms dealers, such as the Rafiq Armoury, which was established in 1872 and remains one of the oldest arms and ammunition dealerships in India for over 150 years. By 1908, when this postcard was produced, the world had already entered an era of mechanised warfare dominated by sophisticated European weapons. Yet here, in this carefully curated image of Hyderabad, the weapons of choice are still curved swords. In contrast, the British Empire's power by this time rested on far more 'sophisticated' terms: technological superiority, standardised artillery, and an industrialised army. Equally fascinating is the caption that accompanies the postcard. The caption reads 'Arms Sellers, Hyderabad. Hyderabad, the capital of the state of the same name, is celebrated for its swords and other arms. The population, which is about 500,000, consists of mixed elements, and is full of warlike spirit and nearly everyone carries a weapon. Hyderabad is one of the greatest centers of Mohammedanism in India.' The caption appears to be saying a lot about the city in general. It is presented as a repository of martial tradition and religious identity. The mention of 'warlike spirit' and a population where 'nearly everyone carries a weapon' lends the image of curious fascination about civilised primitivism. The reference to Hyderabad as 'one of the greatest centers of Mohammedanism in India' also flattens the city for an European viewership who would have read 'Mohammedan' as a marker of both exotic difference and imperial anxiety. It is also fairly evident that these arms sellers are framed not as individuals, but as representatives of a type: the exotic native warrior, purveyor of arms, vestige of a fading martial culture. This discussion on typification grants up a good point of entry into the next postcard, perhaps one of the most popular recipient of the Edwardian postcolonial nazar— The Nautch Girls of India. This one from Hyderabad stands apart for one primary reason—it attributes a name to the nautch girl. Miss Chanda of Hyderabad. On the surface, it might appear as if the nomenclature resists genrefication of Miss Chanda. The story is a little more complicated than that. Miss Chanda is dressed in a richly detailed outfit: a lavender skirt with gold ornamentation, a white dupatta, and a tightly-fitted bodice, all pointing toward a culture of princely luxury and Islamic court traditions. There is a hint of feminine grace and affluence in the image. But of course, she is not just Miss Chanda—she is Miss Chanda of Hyderabad. Her identity is inseparable from the exotic geography she is meant to evoke. The title alone transforms her from an individual into a representative type, a kind of visual ethnography meant to educate or titillate a foreign audience. Much like the portraits of arm sellers and street scenes, this image offers a version of Hyderabad through its people—yet what it frames is not Miss Chanda's life, but her legibility as an object of curiosity. If Miss Chanda was granted partial visibility through the privilege of a name—only to be reabsorbed into the grammar of exotic femininity—then the next figure's visibility was never in question. Possibly the earliest known postcard of a named Indian ruler (with several to follow) features Mahboob Ali Khan, Asif Jah VI, the sixth Nizam of Hyderabad, and one of the richest men in the world at the time. This postcard marks a shift from anonymous 'types' discussed so far, to named power. But it does so on very specific colonial terms. The Nizam is dressed in full court regalia, the embroidery on his coat ornate, his belt tight across his waist, a heavily jewelled cap crowning his head. The postcard is highly stylised, composed like a studio portrait. The paradox that we must not forget is that despite his opulence and sovereign authority, he is a part of a collection titled 'Souvenir of East Indies', built for exotic European consumption. Also read: What makes someone a Hyderabadi—Irani chai, biryani, Nizam nostalgia, or Dakhni? Bazaars, Boats & Buildings The human figure was not the only object of fascination. The city's monuments, too, featured prominently in this visual archive. A series of postcards from the early 20th century turns its gaze toward Hyderabad's architectural grandeur, most notably the Charminar, the Golconda Fort, and the Mecca Masjid. Each of these postcards, whether of streets, mosques, palaces, or tombs, offers a distinct image of the city. Hyderabad, The Char Minar by Johnston & Hoffmann (Kolkata, c. 1903), for instance, is less about the iconic monument itself and more about the bustling bazaars and the sea of curious onlookers that fill the frame. The bustling bazaars of Hyderabad form the subject of Street at Hyderabad by Unknown Publisher, c. 1905, and the famous Sarojini Naidu poem that reads: 'What do you sell, O ye merchants? Richly your wares are displayed. Turbans of crimson and silver, Tunics of purple brocade, Mirrors with panels of amber, Daggers with handles of jade.' – Sarojini Naidu, In the Bazaars of Hyderabad In The Mosque of Machii-Kaman by Austrian artist Josef Hoffmann, the stock elephant and the lively figures in the courtyard animate the centre of the frame. Possibly the earliest known postcard of Hyderabad, it was created by Hoffmann during his visit to India in 1893–94, when he was in his sixties. In contrast, the postcard titled Tombs at Golconda, Hyderabad adopts a more pastoral tone: a boat gently approaching the rocky shore, softening the memory of empire into picturesque leisure—into a scenic tourist fantasy. These postcards draw a picturesque theatre of the exotic. Hyderabad becomes a living museum, ready for the European gaze and imagination. What then remains of these images, more than a century later? For all their colonial underpinnings, they also inadvertently preserve a trace of local memory: a glimpse of a street, a face, a forgotten name. To read these postcards today is to inhabit a complicated temporality—one in which the empire looks, but we, too, look back. This essay, then, is not an attempt to salvage truth from image, nor to dismantle colonial visuality in totality. These postcards may have once said, 'I have been here,' but today they ask instead, 'What was here—and for whom?' (Note: All postcards have been sourced from online blogs and archives. The following set is drawn from Paper Jewels, a free-access postcard collection: Miss Chanda of Hyderabad; Arms Sellers, Nizam von Hyderabad; The Char Minar; In the Mosque of Machii-Kaman; Tombs at Golconda, Hyderabad; James Bazaar Street, Secunderabad; and Street at Hyderabad.) Souvik Nath recently completed a Master's degree in English Literature from the University of Hyderabad. His research interests centre on colonial modernity and its textual manifestations. Views are personal. (Edited by Ratan Priya)
The Print
6 days ago
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India Navy's latest stealth frigate INS Tamal visits Italy
The stealth frigate arrived in Naples on August 13, during her return passage to India after the commissioning in Russia, the defence ministry said. INS Tamal participated in a Passage Exercise (PASSEX) with ITS Trieste, a landing platform dock of the Italian Navy, prior to entering harbour in Naples, they said. New Delhi, Aug 15 (PTI) INS Tamal, the latest stealth frigate of the Indian Navy, has arrived in Italy, during her return passage to India after the commissioning in Russia on July 1, officials said on Friday. 'The visit underscores the deepening of bilateral relations between India and Italy since the elevation to a 'Strategic Partnership' in 2023, centered on expanded cooperation in defence, energy, and technology, and is aimed at enhancing interoperability and jointmanship between both the navies,' it said in a statement. Joint operations during the PASSEX included communication exercises, manoeuvres and flying operations, a Navy spokesperson said. The ship's engagements during the port call include professional and bilateral activities, including interaction with civil dignitaries in Naples, cross-deck visits, discussions with senior Italian Navy functionaries and cultural events in honour of Indo-Italian relations, it said. INS Tamal celebrated India's 79th Independence Day in Naples on August 15. The port call by INS Tamal is 'indicative of the importance India attaches to its relations with Italy and the endeavour to strengthen the growing defence cooperation between the two nations'. PTI KND AMJ AMJ This report is auto-generated from PTI news service. ThePrint holds no responsibility for its content.
