“Our home was close to a railway track. I remember how, as a kid, I would run to the terrace every time a train zoomed by. Watching it go would make me so excited. That feeling has remained unchanged, even after all these years,” says 34-year-old Kumkum Suraj Dongre, a native of Mainpuri village in Madhya Pradesh.
Today an inspiration for many other women, she followed her childhood dream of becoming one of the first female loco-pilots in the Western Railways. And a big part of the credit, she says, goes to her ever-supportive family.
“When I told them that I wanted to drive a train when I grew up, they were utterly clueless. Regardless, they remained supportive and encouraging throughout. I, too, wasn’t sure if women in India drive trains at all, but I thought, ‘Why not?’. My father encouraged me and said that if I studied well, I could do it. All my achievements so far are fruits of my parents’ love, patience and support,” she says.
This year, Kumkum was a part of history in the making, when she commanded a goods train from Vasai Road in Maharashtra to Vadodara in Gujarat, with an all-women crew. It was the first time that the Western Railways had initiated an all-women crew supervision of a goods train on a long-distance route.
Becoming a loco-pilot
A B. Com graduate from a college in her village, Kumkum had been preparing to drive a train for years. She had enrolled in a two-year electrical course from Industrial Training Institute (ITI) so that she could pursue college alongside, without having to move to a city. The ITI course was her gateway to becoming eligible for the Railway entrance exam, which was an experience in itself, she says.
“Being the first at anything is a daunting feeling, but exciting nevertheless. I too was nervous initially. There were so many people staring at us women applicants like we didn’t belong, but I didn’t let that get to me,” says Kumkum about her experience at the entrance exam centre in the Railways Recruitment Board (RRB) Bhopal. She had applied for the post of Assistant Loco Pilot (ALP) and was one of the seven women among thousands of male entrants.
While preparing for the railway exams, Kumkum also completed her post-graduation in Social Science. After this, she joined the Indian Railways as an ALP in 2013, and moved to Mumbai for training and medical examination. Here, at Mumbai’s Vasai lobby in Western Railways, she found herself to be the only woman ALP.
‘Negativity or resistance is always a motivation’
Becoming an ALP was anything but easy for Kumkum, who had to overcome a number of hurdles along the way.
From being mocked at the entrance exam by other male entrants to having to prove her mettle to male colleagues who believed a woman cannot survive in a difficult job of such nature, she has braved every adverse situation and turned it into her motivation to do better.
“People were sceptical at first. They treated me with respect but thought a woman couldn’t do such a heavy duty job. I had to prove myself time and again by volunteering during the most difficult situations, just so I could show that this is a job for women too. Every time someone doubted my abilities, it made me stronger and more focused on my goal,” says Kumkum, recalling an incident when she had to get down from the train mid-journey to check the wheels, while it was halted in a jungle in the middle of the night.
Today, Kumkum’s journey has inspired many more women to join this profession. In the Mumbai region alone, there are now 33 female assistant loco-pilots in training.
“I try to be there for them. I want to be a role model and support system for these women because I know how valuable it is,” adds the loco-pilot, who dreams of driving high-speed trains like Duronto, Rajdhani Express and the Bullet train, someday.
“It’s very important to have people to look up to in your workplace. And as a woman, having another female mentor in a line that has traditionally been male-dominated was a huge boost for us. Kumkum has supported and guided us through various challenges and I am very thankful for that,” says 29-year-old Udita Verma, an ALP working with Kumkum.
I remember watching Gwen Stefani in her ’90s music video No Doubt — Don’t Speak, where she had donned a blue dress with white polka dots and another tiny red dot on her forehead. It seemed odd to me to pair a dress with a bindi but little did I know that this was the beginning of a Western trend.
Two years after the release of Gwen’s album, in 1997, Chicago Tribune proclaimed ‘Bindis are happening’. They cited other celebrities like late pop icon Michael Jackson also getting with the times. US teens were lapping up the trend, and rhinestone bindis with adhesives flew off the shelf at up to $10 (~Rs 700) for 12 packs.
A still from Gwen Stefani’s video ‘No Doubt – Don’t Speak’.
Pop singer Madonna was seen sporting a bindi and henna tattoos with her black outfit for the 1998 MTV music videos award.
By the dawn of the new millennium, it was hard to miss the bindi fad among Hollywood celebrities such as Jessica Simpson, Natalie Portman, and even Miley Cyrus and Selena Gomez.
While the traditional bindi rose to fame on the backs of the Western music industry, who chose to pair it with anything other than a sari or a salwar kameez, its price also rose exponentially, with one pack on US Amazon’s website costing up to $8.99 today.
So when a Twitterati posted the now-viral image of Italian luxury fashion brand, Gucci’s ‘floral embroidery organic kaftan’ priced at $3,500 (~Rs 2.5 lakh), one begins to wonder if there’s a spending limit to the privileged Westerner’s shopping list for everyday items of Indian origin?
The ‘ivory eco solarised organic linen’ that is ‘enriched with a floral embroidery, and self-tile tassels’ was called out by Twitteratis who pointed out that the kaftan was, in fact, a ‘kurta’ and others who claimed to get a similar outfit for Rs 500 at their nearest shopping mall.
Gucci selling an Indian kurta for 2.5 lakhs ? I’ll get the same thing for 500 bucks 💀 pic.twitter.com/Opw2mO5xnV
With The Beatles coming to Yogi Maharishi’s ashram in Rishikesh (then-Uttar Pradesh) in 1968, they opened the floodgates to several other celebrities like Mia Farrow, Steve Jobs, and the Beach Boys. Like many others in India, this ashram has almost become a rite of passage among ‘health-conscious’ Westerners who clamour to don white Indian kurtas and malas.
But little do they know that the kurta is mentioned in the Indus Valley Civilisation. “A bronze rattling mirror from the 4th-5th Century BC during the Pre-Mauryan era has been discovered which portrayed ladies wearing a tight-fitting, either chest-sized choli or waist-length blouse that is a variant of the Kurti,” writes Divyanshi Sharda in an article titled — Historical Analysis of Traditional Indian Salwar Kurta: Ancient to Present.
She further writes, “A statue from the 3rd Century BC Udayagiri and Khandagiri Caves in Odisha denote a possible warrior wearing an achkan or ancient angarkha (a knee-length or ankle-length long Kurta, unslit).”
The humble kurta, which was once worn by men who went to war, trickled down from the Northern states to become a common go-to for ‘traditional wear’ and helped us acclimatize to Indian summers.
But this isn’t the first time the luxury brand was called out for cultural appropriation. Gucci faced backlash from the Sikh community in 2018, who pointed out that their turbans were “not mere fashion accessory (sic)”.
The Sikh turban is a sacred article of faith, @gucci, not a mere fashion accessory. #appropriation
We are available for further education and consultation if you are looking for observant Sikh models.https://t.co/jv3E73UOH3
The item initially referred to as ‘Indy Turban’ and later as ‘Indy Full Head Wrap’ was sold for $790 US dollars, approximately Rs 56,000.
In 2018, fast-fashion Spanish retailer Zara sold a ‘checked skirt’ for £69.99 (~Rs 7,210). This wrap-around item bore a striking resemblance to the Indian lungi.
While some say Gucci’s brand is what makes the kurta’s price worth it, others point fingers at big brands ‘appropriating Indian culture’. But it is worth noting that a tailor-made kurta awaits any willing customer who dares to venture into the bylanes of Delhi’s Sarojini market or Mumbai’s Fashion Street for a fraction of the brand’s selling price.
Maybe some of us should start making ‘organic kaftans’ and start shipping them to the West. Clearly, there is a fortune to be made.
In 2019, the University of Dundee, one of the UK’s top 30 educational institutions, announced the Jainti Dass Memorial Scholarship for Excellence for Indian students looking to study there. The winner would receive £5,000 in addition to the already-existing Global Excellence Scholarship of the same amount, taking the total sum of the scholarship to £10,000.
This scholarship was named after an Indian man who was the first South Asian town councillor of Scotland and arguably one of the first Indians to settle in the region. Aside from this scholarship, the town of Dundee remembers him and his contributions even 100 years after his demise, with a street and a library named after him as well. Much of Dundee’s development and transformation can be credited to this doctor.
A 26-day voyage
Dr Jainti Dass Saggar was born in the village of Deharru in Ludhiana, Punjab, in 1898 during the British era. He was the second-born among six siblings, and did much of his schooling in Deharru before moving to Lahore to finish his education.
In her book, ‘Dr Jainti Dass Saggar: From Deharru to Dundee’ (2015), Jainti’s daughter Kamala writes, “During his time [studying] at Lahore Medical School, the region [undivided Punjab] was consumed by strife, violence and martial law. The shocking Jallianwala Bagh Massacre of April 1919 occurred in Amritsar, less than 30 miles from where Jainti was living and studying.”
At this time, one of Jainti’s tutors, who was a Scot, recognised this med student’s talents and proposed his transfer to a Scottish university. But Kamala says that it was a larger realisation on Jainti’s part that the unrest in the state as well as the rest of the country placed him in a vulnerable position and could potentially inhibit him from realising his dream.
And so in 1919, the young man who had never travelled out of Punjab undertook a 26-day journey via sea to finally arrive at Gravesend in England. He boarded a train to London’s King’s Cross, and finally arrived at Dundee, a place he would soon come to call home.
Here he was enrolled in University College Dundee, the forerunner to University of Dundee, and completed his medical degree in 1923. He soon set up a small medical practice, where he was introduced to the Quinns, a prominent family in the town with an active involvement in politics. He met the family’s daughter Jean, and the two fell in love and eventually wed in 1931.
Through his wife’s family, Jainti was introduced to the world of politics. In 1936, he was nominated to the Dundee Council by the Trade and General Workers’ Union. The ward that he was contesting in, Ward VIII, ended up having the highest voter turnout, and he was elected as a local Councillor, the first South Asian to attain this feat in Scotland.
‘Equality, not privilege’
During his tenure as town councillor and as part of the Labour party, Jainti worked on a number of issues. These included meals-on-wheels, free education, opening of schools, public health, advocacy of mental health, evacuation planning, child welfare, and more. He was a fierce proponent of trade unions. He was also an advocate for the National Health Service, and a firm believer that healthcare was the state’s responsibility. He campaigned for shorter work weeks for nurses, and through his efforts, the NHS introduced healthcare policies to cover the rural population of the town. His motto was, “Equality, not privilege; needs, not status”.
Simultaneously, he advocated to lower the pass rate for entry into educational institutions. While he campaigned for the rate to be 50%, it was finally approved at 60%, allowing more equitable access into secondary education. He introduced the ‘Penny Fare’, which lowered the rates of Dundee’s Transport Corporation vehicles. He fought for the reopening of galleries and museums on Sundays, so that the working class, which would usually have offs on the day, could visit these institutions as well.
In 1954, Jainti’s wife Jean was elected to the town council as well, and the two became Dundee’s first husband-wife team on the council. Together they campaigned for cleaner air and food, and Jean was later awarded an OBE for her services.
In the late 1930s, Jainti became involved in the debate about cheap jute imports from India, which were undercutting the profits of Glasgow manufacturers and the wages of local workers in the area. He joined a delegation of trade unionists and manufacturers that travelled to London to ask the British government to protect the country’s jute industry. “As long as cheap labour in India, working under both British and Indian capital, [goes] on increasing, over production of cheap commodities would have a detrimental effect on Dundee,” he said.
This matter was part of a larger debate at the time, in which British manufacturers and workers believed that their own profits and wages were being sidelined to keep British colonies happy. Saggar called for higher wages of Indian workers, which would make their output more expensive and in turn less of a threat to Glasgow workers.
Today we launched the new Jainti Dass Saggar Memorial Scholarship, commemorating the incredible impact 1923 graduate Dr Saggar had on the city he came to 100 years ago.
Moreover, Jainti was instrumental in the appointment of V K Krishna Menon as a parliamentary candidate for Dundee in 1939. Alongside the transformation of this Scottish town, he never left his Indian roots behind. He was an active member of the Dundee chapter of Friends of India, where he campaigned for India’s independence and was a firm believer in Gandhian ideologies of non-violence. Not all his policies were met with fervour, and he ran into several roadblocks, many owing to his nationality. Regardless, he persevered, and was one of the longest-serving council members of Dundee, with a tenure of 18 years.
Jainti suffered an untimely death due to an intracerebral hemorrhage in 1954, when he was 56 years old. This was both sudden and shocking for all of Dundee, which had come to deeply love Scotland’s first non-white local authority. Dundee’s Lord Provost, Scottish equivalent to the position of Mayor, William Hughes noted, “He was a man of compassion for everyone in need…he came to Dundee from halfway across the world but no son of Dundee had greater love for its people or worked harder in their interest. Dundee is much poorer by his passing.”
Exactly 100 years to his arrival in Scotland, Wendy Alexander, Vice Principal (international) of Dundee University, noted, “Dr Saggar was a truly inspirational character who worked to improve the quality of school meals well ahead of his time. He also helped open a psychiatric clinic for early mental health treatment and argued for the provision of 20 communal canteens for Dundee’s poor. He was a true example of a global citizen, who chose to study, live and improve the city he came to. With this new scholarship, we hope his story inspires the next generation of Dundee students.”
This article has been published in partnership with Dettol India.
There’s no doubt that India struggled during the second wave of the coronavirus pandemic. As thousands were in desperate need of basic medical facilities like ambulances, hospital beds or even oxygen cylinders, some took this adversity as an opportunity to go above and beyond to help people selflessly.
Several ordinary citizens came together to fight the good fight against COVID-19 as nothing short of heroes. These are individuals, just like you and me, with financial constraints, limited resources or dependent family members. But, the limitations in their personal lives have not deterred them, rather encouraged such heroes to help those in need, in whatever way possible.
To recognise their noble efforts, Dettol—a germ protection brand under Reckitt in partnership with The Better India—recently launched a new campaign called #DettolSalutes to pay tribute to 100 unsung heroes of the pandemic. To do so, as part of the campaign the company has replaced the brand logo of Dettol on its liquid hand wash packs with an image of protectors and their inspiring stories.
Talking about the vision behind such an initiative, Dilen Gandhi, regional marketing director, South Asia — Health and Nutrition, said, “During the second wave, hope was subdued. It was replaced by panic, fear and a sense of hopelessness. We realised that the positive actions and support of others around gave people hope and so we decided to tell these stories.”
Encapsulating the inspiring stories of hope and self-sacrifice of our COVID heroes, Dettol will be selling almost 4 million #DettolSalute packs on e-commerce channels and across 5 lakh stores in India. Each story of the COVID protectors outlines the positive impact even individual efforts can have on an entire nation. Here are some of the inspiring stories of COVID heroes being honoured by their campaign:
Sathya Sankaran
Mounted atop bicycles, Sathya Sankaran with a group of 650 volunteer cyclists is running an initiative to deliver food, medicine and other essentials to COVID-19 patients and senior citizens. They aim to tackle not one but two global crises — the pandemic and environmental degradation.
With more than 100 deliveries a day, Sathya’s Relief Riders are operating in 10 cities namely- Bengaluru, Chennai, Hyderabad, Mumbai, Hubli-Dharwad, Silvassa, Guwahati, Gurugram, Jaipur and Belagavi. They take all necessary precautions to safely deliver your supplies, even during a lockdown. And they do it all without adding a single ounce of carbon emission to the environment.
Malleshwar Rao
A humble man from Hyderabad, Malleshwar Rao is refilling 70-80 oxygen cylinders each day from Cherlapally Industrial Area and delivers them to Durgabai Deshmukh Hospital and Tirumala Hospital on his four-wheeler.
Since the first wave, he has provided grocery kits to 70,000 families, served food to over 5,000 people every day and donated 23,000 PPE kits and 6,000 masks. He has distributed water bottles among frontline workers, helped 150 people with emergencies by arranging calls with doctors and also distributed 50 tonnes of fruits and vegetables.
Akshay Sanjay Kothawale
When the COVID-19 pandemic struck in March 2020, Akshay Sanjay Kothawale, an autorickshaw driver from Pune, decided to use the Rs 2 lakh he had saved for his wedding to feed the poor. To date, he has arranged food for over 1,550 families and continues to distribute food packets to migrant workers in Pune daily.
As people faced difficulty finding transport during the lockdown, Akshay is also ferrying people in need, to and from the hospital. He makes it a point to give medical workers a free ride in his auto and wishes to continue helping people in whatever way he can.
Haresh Shah
A teacher by profession, Haresh Shah has been relentlessly working to help people since the onset of the pandemic in March 2020. He has been predominantly working in the rural areas of Maharashtra by collaborating with other partners and setting up six COVID-19 treatment and recovery centres in the highly impacted areas.
Haresh has also been running a continuous COVID-19 assistance helpline. Additionally, he and some volunteers have managed to arrange 48 plasma donors for people who needed them and around 30 hospital beds in different parts of the country. He has also managed to arrange 11 oxygen cylinders and helped provide essential medicines to patients.
Gowri Bakaraju
In April 2021, Hyderabad-based pastry chef Gowri Bakaraju got news about 11 of her family members contracting the coronavirus. This personal crisis pushed her to empathise with other COVID-positive patients, especially those who were struggling to access basic facilities like food and essentials. That is when she decided to start serving home-cooked meals for COVID-19 patients admitted to government hospitals.
With the help of her parents and four volunteers—namely Vysali Somanchi, Surya Somanchi, Monica Reddy and Anurag Reddy—she has been distributing more than 100 packets of lunch a day outside hospitals. Post the easing of lockdown restrictions, she has begun to serve breakfast too.
Vedika Agarwal
Vedika Agarwal, a resident of Chennai, has been working tirelessly through the COVID-19 pandemic to help out people from less-privileged communities. She has been doing this with the help of her non-profit, ‘Yein Udaan’.
Working with the Chennai City Police, she has provided groceries to 70,000 people and sanitation supplies to 3,000 people across Tamil Nadu. She has also set up multiple home libraries with laptops and learning aids including books, board games and stationery.
Sourav Das, Lakmi Das, Chittranjan Biswas
In March 2020, when Sourav Das came home one day after buying a mask, his mother, Laxmi, reprimanded him for wasting money. It was a mask worth Rs 300 that was not washable, reusable or even breathable and so his mother, a skilled seamstress decided to make masks at home.
She sourced fabric from her brother, Chittranjan Biswas and began stitching the masks herself. To help his mother’s initiative, Sourav created a mask dispenser in his area in Delhi and began distributing masks for free among house help, vendors and hawkers across the city.
During the second wave, Sourav converted his bike into a mask dispenser and has been able to distribute 1,500 masks. Since the pandemic, Sourav and his mother have distributed over 7,000 homemade masks for free.
Matron Jeminiben Joshi
A 71-year-old resident of Dahod, Gujarat, Matron Jeminiben Joshi spent more than half her life as a nurse in a government hospital until she retired in 2009. But when the pandemic struck and the need for trained healthcare workers like her became extremely essential, she decided to come out of her retirement and take up active nursing duty at the Zydus hospital.
Working 12 hours a day, administering medicines, oxygen and taking samples for testing, she is determined to keep helping those who are ill.
Kaushik Raj
Fourth-year engineering student Kaushik Raj attends COVID SOS calls for almost 21 hours a day, to help more than 3,000 people so far. The Delhi-based student says that sleeping makes him feel guilty, especially when he thinks about all the missed or unattended SOS calls.
Sleeping only 3 hours a day, he spends the rest helping strangers procure medical essentials like oxygen cylinders, ventilators, hospital beds, etc. He and his team of 60 volunteers receive more than 200 calls a day per person.
Gaurav Rai
Gaurav Rai, a resident of Patna, Bihar, is no less than a lifesaver for the people of his state. Earning himself the name of ‘Oxygen Man’, Gaurav has been able to save over 1,500 lives across the state by providing free oxygen cylinders to COVID-19 patients who were critically ill.
Gaurav, who works in a private company in the city, believes that one can get a new car or new clothes late in life but cannot get one’s life back. With this thought, he has spent around Rs 1.25 lakh from his savings to procure oxygen cylinders for needy patients. To reach out to as many people as possible, Gaurav has started an oxygen bank at his house. He gets calls as early as 5 am and continues working till 10 pm for this cause.
At a time when the entire country was battling the deadly second wave, Gaurav put his own life at risk to deliver oxygen. Every time a patient who had taken oxygen from him recovers, Gaurav takes them a cake to celebrate the beginning of their new life.
You can share stories of the protectors you have come across, here.
In the 1930s, pilots flying commercial planes over the Peruvian coastal plain noticed and brought attention to a strange pattern of lines etched into the ground. These were depictions of various plants, animals and shapes drawn with over 800 straight lines, some as long as 48 km. These included depictions of spiders, hummingbirds, cacti, monkeys, whales, llamas, ducks, flowers, trees, lizards and dogs.
These came to be known as the now famous Nazca Lines, which are geoglyphs—designs or motifs produced on the ground by moving or arranging objects on a landscape—that are over 2,000 years old, created somewhere between 500 BC and AD 500. These were made by creating shallow incisions or depressions in the desert floor by removing pebbles to leave different coloured dirt exposed. Despite continuous studies since their discovery, they remain one of the world’s greatest mysteries.
While always thought to be the largest ground paintings in the world, these figures have now been surpassed by a recent discovery.
In a paper published in Science Direct in June 2021, father-son duo and independent researchers from France, Carlo Oetheimer and Yohann Oetheimer, discuss how they identified eight sites around Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, in the Thar Desert that depict linear figures that resemble geoglyphs. They did so using Google Earth images, drone observations and field visits. In particular, a drone survey was conducted in 2016, which found that while some ditches were dug in the area for tree plantation, “ground paintings unrelated to the tree planting were also confirmed”.
A close up of the lines (Source: Carlos, Yohann Oetheimer)
The two researchers found a series of these linear figures in Boha, a small village located around 40 km from Jaisalmer. “Two remarkable geometrical figures: a giant spiral adjacent to an atypical serpent-shaped drawing, are connected with a cluster of sinuous lines. This triad extends over 20.8 ha and totals more than half of the 48 km of lines observed. Three memorial stones positioned at key points, give evidence that planimetric knowledge has been used to create this elaborate design,” the paper states.
The researchers say that these geoglyphs are the largest ones discovered worldwide, and the first of their kind in the Indian subcontinent. The largest figure was named Boha 1, and is a giant asymmetrical spiral made from a single line that loops and runs for around 12 kilometres. “The Boha 1 unit interpreted as a series of 12 eccentric ellipses, was revealed to be a huge spiral,” the paper reads.
Boha 2 is a serpentine figure, around 11 km long. “By analogy these curves replicate a boustrophedon. This term refers to primitive writings whose lines can be read from left to right and then from right to left, in the same way a plow travels in a field. The inflection points in the lines generate a gap of 4.7–14 m between them,” reads the paper.
Boha 3 and 4 included a series of meandering lines, and “two iconographic units, adjacent to the previous ones, draw about 80 serpentine lines between 40 and 200 m long. Boha 3 forms a cluster of lines oriented towards the NE, immediately at the apex of the giant spiral. Boha 4, on the other hand, is located about 50 meters away, SW of the boustrophedon. We experienced more difficulty achieving a precise mapping because many of these lines are heavily eroded. They have generally random sinuosities and adopt rhythmic undulations that look like braids in two areas”.
While these figures stretched for about 48 kilometres, the researchers suggested that the distance might have once been around 80 km. The authors say, “The giant spiral and serpentine figure are definitely the major points of interest, closely connected to Boha 3, suggesting that all the other geoglyphs were created as a framework for this set. Due to their spatial contiguity, [these] can be perceived as a sequential project. We still have to identify the semantic relationships binding them. However, we can interpret the construction stages of this triptych, guided by their layout and the principle of simplicity.”
The duo further explain, “Our observations suggest that a plow-type tool could have been used, possibly pulled by a camel on loose deposits, as commonly practiced by the Thar Desert farmers. This process, which does not exclude manual finishing, would explain the many inflection points in the lines. It should be noted that a small rock outcrop has been carved, indicating a concern to preserve the continuity of the line. These observations suggest that the creation of the Boha geoglyphs did not represent a considerable labor investment.”
A view from above, with the red shaded portion indicating human damage (Source: Carlos, Yohann Oetheimer)
Unlike in the case of the Nazca lines, where their creation was attributed to the ancient Nazca culture, it is unclear as to who might have drawn the figures at Thar. Moreover, these lines are reportedly only around 150 years old, and may be contemporary creations using Hindu memorial stones found in the region. “It is conceivable that they were built at the beginning of the British colonial period, in the middle of the 19th century. According to this hypothesis, the lines could be contemporary with the neighboring memorial stones,” the authors say. They further believe that these figures were made using planimetric, the study of plane areas, knowledge.
In terms of what these lines may suggest, the researchers say, “Only a bird’s-eye view 300 m above the ground would lead to the perception of the main complex as a whole. According to this assumption, how could the creators of these ambiguous signs ensure that they were properly seen and interpreted? The lack of visibility excludes the possibility of artistic expression, intended to be contemplated from the ground and invites us to consider religious, astronomical and/or cosmological meanings. Finally, because of their uniqueness, we can speculate that they could represent a commemoration of an exceptional celestial event observed locally.”
Archeological artefacts found in the vicinity of the geoglyphs (Source: Carlos, Yohann Oetheimer)
Of its significance, they say, “…At this stage of the research, we remain convinced that these unique geoglyphs are closely connected to their geographical and cultural context, and possibly contain a universal message linked to the Sacred and the cosmos.”
They further said that the Government of India must act to protect these geoglyphs before they disappear due to human activity. “…Boha’s geoglyphs appear to be the largest human-abstract and organically arranged geoglyphs ever discovered,” they said while concluding their paper.
I n 2008, after performing a rare art form of puppetry called ‘Nokkuvidya Pavakkali’ in Paris, artist and Padma Shri awardee Moozhikkal Pankajakshi found herself at a crossroads. She was the last surviving artist of the dying art form and was aware of the burden she had carried for decades. But, her body had begun to give up under the pressure.
A centuries-old form of puppetry that originated in Kerala, Nokkuvidya Pavakkali is extremely strenuous as it involves balancing wooden puppets positioned on a tall pole in between the puppeteer’s upper lip and nose. The puppeteer, in this case, Pankanjakshi, had to hold balance while manipulating the puppets through a string held inside her mouth — a job that required absolute concentration and unimaginable balance. However, Pankajakshi who was 72 during the last performance began to feel the ache in her body and the blur in her eyes.
Her journey back home was clouded with uncertainty about the fate of this art form. However, a year later she soon discovered a silver lining in her granddaughter, Renjini KS.
Speaking to The Better India, 20-year-old Renjini says, “I was around 8 years old when I saw my mother very upset because she thought that our family legacy of Nokkuvidya Pavakkali would eventually die with my grandmother. That is when I along with three cousins decided to step up and learn the art form. But it proved to be extremely difficult and they all gave up. As I was staying with my grandmother, she continued to help me through my training and with time I improved.”
As the years progressed, Pankajakshi began to see herself in her granddaughter who would skillfully tackle the ancient demi-gods and goddesses at the tip of her lip with admirable grace. Today, this 20-year-old living in a remote corner of Kerala, a village called Monipally, is striving to keep ancient folklore and legends alive through this rare art form.
Becoming of A Puppeteer
Pankajakshi was 12 years old when she began to perform along with her parents. Being the eldest in the family it was on her to continue the legacy even after she got married at the age of 20.
“After marriage, I continued to perform along with my in-laws. My husband would make the toys while my mother-in-law would perform with me. This art form, from the music to the making of the dolls and the performance by the puppeteer, is done by the same family. And slowly, ours was the only family that continued it. Eventually, it was up to me to continue it,” says Pankajakshi, who couldn’t pass on the legacy to her daughter.
The indigenous theatre art form involves narrating stories from epics like Mahabharata and Ramayana through music and subtle movements of the puppets. Noku means vision and Vidya means knowledge, suggesting the importance of balance and vision of the puppeteer during the performance. During a performance, the tall tales of mythical characters and gods precariously rest on the face of the puppeteer. Even the slightest movement can become a mishap and derail the entire performance, explains Renjini.
“Eyes are very important when it comes to holding the balance and concentration. It takes more than a year just to get the balance right and then slowly you graduate into making the movements,” adds the young artist. She further adds that through the years her training has been extremely painful with her suffering several injuries but to preserve a valuable legacy all of it has been worth it.
Stressing on the importance of patience and perseverance, she adds that usually, only women are able to become puppeteers in this art form.
“Years ago my grandmother had told me that only women tend to become the centrepiece of the performance as the puppeteers as this art requires an unimaginable level of concentration and patience. Men in the family are usually involved in the musical narration through songs, playing instruments and creating the puppets. For instance, my grandfather used to be a very skilled craftsman responsible for making all the puppets we use today. After his passing, we have been struggling to replicate it and make new puppets,” says Renjini, who is also a Third Year B.Com student, aspiring to pursue a career in business management.
Like the star puppeteer she is, who deftly balances formidable epic characters on her philtrum, Renjini hopes to continue to hold the balance of her destiny as the sole guardian of the ancient art form.
From the ’50s till the ’70s, Kolkata (then Calcutta) witnessed a surge of refugees after the Partition of India. These were decades of chaos but also of a social and cultural awakening, where different sections of the society were out on the streets to demand food, wages, housing and other basic rights. These varying sections—students, refugees, the working class and more—joined hands in the face of political upheavals and the surge of the Naxalite movement.
Amid the changing landscape of this city emerged a group of young men, armed with the drive to raise their voices that could connect even the most varying sections of society through a single medium — music. This helped form India’s first rock band, Moheener Ghoraguli (Moheen’s horses). The name was picked from Jibanananda Das’s poem Ghora, where a line of the poem says, “Moheen’s horses graze on the horizon, in the Autumn moonlight”.
At the helm of this musical movement was Gautam Chattopadhyay, who formed the group in 1975 with his brothers Pradip and Biswanath (Bishu), cousin Ranjon Ghoshal—who picked the band’s name—and friends Tapas Das, Tapesh Bandhopadhyay (who was later replaced by Raja) and Abraham Mazumder.
A young Gautam Chattopadhyay and (left) Gautam during a recording session in the 90s (Credit: Gaurab Chatterjee)
“The music had elements of rock, jazz, blues and Western classical music; folk elements from Bengal were also very visible in the music they made,” Gaurab Chatterjee, Gautam’s son, tells The Better India. “My father had a huge palette for different kinds of music, where he would try to listen to new forms all the time.”
Moheener Ghoraguli was born in Gautam’s backyard and as is the typical origin story of legendary bands, it was just a simple coming together of young boys who were united in their love for making good music. “For my father, a band from India, or even Bengal, had to sound like it belonged to the country instead of blindly aping the West. Having one’s own elements meant a great deal to him,” Gaurab notes.
At this time, Bengali music was defined more or less by commercial and/or Bollywood music. “These were sweet, romantic songs, or film songs, whereas the band was talking about social issues through a different composition altogether. So it was something different for the masses,” says Gaurab.
The group began with performances at small gigs throughout Kolkata. But audiences were unaccustomed to this new sound. Commercial success was a slow and uphill battle, but regardless, the band produced three albums of wonderful music.
The band was India’s first rock band, who emphasised on vernacular music (Source: Bishu Chattopadhyay)
Talking about a few songs and their meanings, Bishu Chattopadhyay, Gautam’s younger brother and member of the band, says, “We wrote this song called Shono Sudhijon [Dearly beloved]. Roughly translated, the lyrics meant, ‘Oh city dwellers, listen, we wake up with nightmares everyday thinking about your injustices and neglect—oh dear people, as if your life is the precarious ‘Charak’ performers going around with your back facing the sky—listen dear beloved people, we are with you’.”
He adds, “Then there’s Haay Bhalobashi [We love with sadness], where we say, ‘We love getting immersed in the countryside, the nature, a run in the moonlight with distant hills, paddy fields, a boat ride or sitting by the window with a book of poems.”
He further adds, “We love Picasso, Bunuel, Dante, listening to the Beatles, Dylan, Beethoven. Love listening (live) to Ravi Shankar or Ali Akbar and returning home in the foggy morning. Yet none seems good or satisfying, there is always sadness underneath. None makes sense when we notice oppressed peasants or workers sweating in the fields and ports. We wait for the bright day when we all can love life together’.”
Haay Bhalobashi
Gaurab says his father spent a lot of time with the Bauls, a group of religious singers from the Bengal region. Moheener Ghoraguli often described their style of music as ‘Baul jazz’. “My father was quite influenced by the time he spent with the Baul singers. Members of the community also came to perform with the band during the Kolkata International Jazz Festival around ‘79 or ‘80,” he says. “One of the first examples of folk fusion in a band came from Moheener Ghoraguli as well,” he says.
Describing the reception that Moheener received and the struggles they saw, Bishu tells The Better India, “We were not given opportunities to express ourselves the way we wanted. We wanted equal sounds for all our instruments, as well as vocals but engineers at the recording studios were often against that. There were many times where sound engineers or recording studios would think they were one up on us — we were nobodies at the time. Moreover, the so-called ‘established Bengali community’ was still holding onto Tagore songs, and a lot of footage was given to only gifted singers or traditional musicians. I think people were afraid to publicly support something different.”
“Also, none of us had money,” he laughs. “It’s not like we were going on these giant tours. We used to often jokingly ask, ‘How do you make Rs 5 lakh? Possibly by starting out with Rs 10 lakh of your parents’ money’.”
In 1981, Moheener Ghoraguli parted ways. When I ask if their struggles to find commercial acceptance played a role in this, Bishu says, “Well, yes, if we had been given more opportunities, maybe things would be different. It wasn’t because of any disagreement. It was more situational. So many of us left, and only Gautam da chose to stay back. But of course, if people listened to our music, we would have stayed — who wants to leave their home, friends, and family, and move away?”
From left: Bishu, Raja, Bapi, Pradip (Source: Bishu Chattopadhyay)
Other members went on to pursue careers for a bit, while Gautam diversified into filmmaking. Interestingly, during this period of disbandment, many Moheener Ghoraguli songs survived across different college campuses in Kolkata as an oral tradition. “These kids didn’t even know whose songs these were, but they’d sing it anyway,” Gaurab says.
He further recalls that with the advent of MTV in the ’90s, when the father-son duo would switch on the channel, Gautam would be fascinated with the music videos he saw. “He wanted to make something similar and created a three-part miniseries of music videos which got sanctioned by Doordarshan,” he recalls. “He got new people to sing some of his post-Moheener songs, shot videos for them and that’s how a collective of great music came about.”
And that is how, in the ’90s, Moheener Ghoraguli emerged again, but this time as a collective of musicians. With his friends in a publishing house named A Mukherjee, Gautam released a compilation called Abar Bochhor Kuri Porey (Again, After Twenty Years) in 1995 at the Kolkata Book Fair. Gaurab says, “This was Moheener Ghoraguli’s second phase, which was a collective of musicians and artists that my father liked.”
A notable song on this album was Prithibi Ta Naki Chhoto Hote Hote, a commentary on the human tendency to be glued to the television to a point of humanity’s own downfall. This song was later recreated by composer Pritam in his song ‘Bheegi Bheegi Si Hai Raatein’ for the 2006 movie Gangster. The collective released three more albums — Jhora Samoyer Gaan, Maya, and Khyaapar Gaan.
Subrata Ghosh, a member of Gorer Math and an active member of this movement, tells The Better India, “This movement involved not just musicians but also artists and filmmakers, to encapsulate different forms of expression. We weren’t making this music to be famous, but to express ourselves. We didn’t know the kind of impact we were making. We didn’t have a lot of financial help on our side. A lot of these albums were sold in black but it gave us an idea of the impact. Gautam da used to say that when you find your cassettes being plagiarised or sold in black, you understand the popularity of your music.”
“There were no interviews or press releases,” Ghosh notes. “Our impact was all word-of-mouth. For example, one of the members of our collective was a radio jockey, who’d often play Prithibi during his segment. Our music started selling like hotcakes and we did some concerts but not too many.”
Also involved with the collective was Arunendu Das, a pioneer of 20th century alternative Bengali music. While Das never intended his songs to reach a wider audience, Gautam was so moved by his music that he included many of his songs on the collective’s albums.
Gautam died suddenly of a heart attack on 20 June 1999, and his demise left a deep scar on the Bengali music fraternity. Ghosh recalls, “I’d left for Japan for some work, and I used to call him and keep in touch regularly. I remember, on the day he passed, I tried calling him several times but the call would not connect. I received the news the next day. The whole Calcutta music fraternity came to the house to pay their respects. I was still in Japan at the time, and when I received the email of his death, I called his wife. The two of us broke down on the phone, and in the background, I could hear Baul singers singing in mourning. I returned a few years later, but Calcutta has always been empty without Gautam da.”
Shortly before his death, Gautam had visited a Naxal-infested area to interact with Karbi youth, and organised an opera on the community’s folklore called Hai-mu. Around 300 Karbi youth performed here, and the event was a grand success, inviting the community’s adoration for Gautam. He had also been working on a movie in Karbi language, which remains incomplete due to his sudden death.
Gautam Chattopadhyay and (right) the band during a performance (Source: Gaurab Chatterjee, Bishu Chattopadhyay)
Bishu, who now is a member of a jazz band in the US, says, “Gautam da was the most popular brother among us, from when we were very young. Our life was always a little public because of how many people noticed his talent. He taught me that you can make music the way you want, and that it’s okay to be adventurous. There’s no need to conform. He never believed in doing things the way everyone else expected him to. For example, people may expect that the best voice in the band should sing a particular song, but he would go ahead and pick someone else because that has another kind of creative quality. He was a leader, he knew how to bring people together. He could zero in on the best abilities of people to highlight them in the best way possible, just to try out seemingly unthinkable ideas.”
Today, remaining members of the original band include Pradip, who resides in Kolkata and experiments with city and natural sound, as well as abstract theatre, Bishu, who lives in the US, Abraham who runs a music academy, and Tapas who helms a band. Tapesh lives in Kolkata and Raja in the US. Ranjon passed away in 2020, a year after he was accused during #MeToo for sexual harassment. Band members and Gaurab have, in the past, emphasised that they stand in solidarity with the victims who came out in the movement.
Shono Sudhijon
Encapsulating the present world impact of the band, Ghosh says, “Earlier, there was this impression that people who make music or those who are artistic in general, are God-gifted. Commoners couldn’t do that. But with this movement, people started believing more in themselves, and looked at it as a form of expression, something that everyone is capable of doing.”
Bishu says, “I think Moheener Ghoraguli instilled a sense of pride in your own language. So many young talented singers today are making so much more new music, and if Gautam da was alive today, he would be so happy.”
You can watch the video that the ’70s band members created in remembrance of Gautam Chattopadhyay here (credit: Bishu Chattopadhyay) and a video of Abraham’s students covering Haay Bhalobhashi here.
For the last 17 years, Hemant Chaturvedi always began the new year with a travel ritual. A Mumbai-based photographer and cinematographer, he travels all the way to Prayagraj (earlier known as Allahabad), Uttar Pradesh, to witness the Kumbh Mela, a prominent Hindu festival and pilgrimage. The juxtaposition of scores of people immersed in celebration of their faith with the unexpected sense of tranquility is what always drew him to witness the festivities.
However, 2019 turned out to be different.
“It had moved away from the beautiful simplicity of the celebration by becoming a huge spectacle. That bored me and so I decided to leave and explore Allahabad University instead,” says Hemant.
On his way to this 19th century architectural landmark, Hemant recalled the existence of another marvel — an old single-screen cinema theatre called Lakshmi Talkies. Having closed since 1999, the erstwhile popular theatre was now languishing in neglect and was about to be demolished to be replaced by a mall.
Even in the midst of ruins, the Art Deco heritage structure had not yet lost its charm, all it needed was its due appreciation through the eyes of an artist, and Hemant decided to be that person by making it his life’s mission to immortalise these neglected heritage structures through his camera.
Triyug Talkies, Khandwa, MP
“I remember walking inside, brimming with fascination. I’d spotted a pile of small film posters called lobby cards dating back to the 1960s and there was a dust-covered idol of Goddess Lakshmi in the lobby with a few broken arms. Upon entering the theatre auditorium I was taken aback by the large murals depicting Ramayana painted on the walls adjacent to the screen. It was breathtaking and something that modern multiplexes can never replicate. It was at that moment that I decided to make this into a project. I decided to photograph a few more single-screen cinemas across the city in the remaining days,” says the 53-year-old.
Imperial Theatre, Bombay, Maharashtra
With the advent of multiplexes with high-tech facilities and financial challenges, these family-run single-screens are quickly becoming a thing of the past. “When I began to research this topic. I found a jarring reality that between 2000 to 2019, almost 12,000 single-screen cinemas were shut or demolished,” he shares.
Each demolition not only crumbled the physical structure of the theatres but threatened to wipe out the illustrious history of Indian cinema.
“I realised that if I let this continue and just be a bystander, I would let valuable heritage get lost. Each single-screen cinema is unique and an example of individuality, unlike multiplexes that look almost identical. So through my project I decided to make memorabilia of sorts that would chronicle the existence of these marvels and serve as a platform of visual conversation for generations to come,” explains the esteemed photographer who started the Single Screen Cinemas Project in 2019.
Phul Theatre, Patiala ,Punjab
Since then, Hemant has spent over 20 lakhs traveling more than 32,000 kilometers in his jeep across 500 towns in 11 states, to document the beauty and history of more than 650 endangered cinema theatres.
“It began with my fascination and appreciation for the intricate architecture and design but slowly became about the people behind it as well. Over time, I began to understand how multiplexes, despite being technologically advanced, lacked the character and romance of single-screen cinema,” says Hemant, who has worked on several prominent films like Makdee (2002) and Maqbool (2004), among others.
Naheed Talkies, Rampur, UP
Although the COVID-19 restrictions had halted his plans, he adds that with the pandemic the fate of such cinema theatres is precariously hanging by a thread. Working towards publishing the photographs in the first volume of his book, his project is nowhere close to an end and will not be until he has documented the last remaining single-screen marvel through his lens.
In 2018, India’s social climate experienced a transformation like no other. A clarion call for sexual violence survivors, the #MeToo movement allowed thousands of people to share their accounts of trauma that were once silenced or shared only with a few in confidence.
What was once simmering behind closed doors had now erupted into a worldwide movement that came into prominence in India after a Bollywood actress leveled allegations against a co-star. A single woman’s story became a phenomenon threatening to bring down powerful individuals across the country.
But what after that?
Mumbai-based Aastha Khanna points out the fault in the system that never let the movement meet its true potential.
“In India, the #MeToo movement was as big as any other place. It rocked the entire nation, and yet three years later, we are not very different from what we used to be. With time, the conversations around it died down and the media moved on to the next big thing. Unlike the West, which worked toward finding a solution, at least in the film space, we did not do much. The job of an Intimacy Coordinator (IC), for instance, came into existence in the wake of this movement as people there realised that performers were being put in vulnerable positions. But in India, things did not play out the way it should have,” says Aastha who has been working as an IC in films and web series for the past nine months. Before her, India did not have any certified IC working towards making the visual medium safe for performers.
Speaking to The Better India she highlights different facets of her job role and the urgent need for us as a society to undergo a transformation.
‘It’s Not Just About The Sex’
During early 2020, Aastha was working as an assistant director (AD) in filmmaker Shakun Batra’s upcoming movie, when on the director’s insistence she happened to discover the role of an IC. After searching relentlessly to hire an IC in India, she realised that the role was nonexistent in the country and thus began her journey to fill a gaping void in the film and television industry.
“We were about to shoot a few scenes of intimacy and so the director asked me to do the requisite research. I tried looking for people to hire who could be experts in this but found none in this field. Then, the director sent me an article on Amanda Blumenthal who had worked on the drama Euphoria. That is when I reached out to her and began to get her help to design exercises and intimacy workshops. Under her guidance, we ended up making a team of three people — me as an IC, an intimacy coach and a director of intimacy, for the film,” she shares.
Her association with Amanda for this project opened up a new world for Aastha, who realised that by training to be an IC she could marry her profession with her passion to work for issues pertaining to gender-based violence, safety, etc. “After COVID-19 began, Amanda informed me about a course she was starting under Intimacy Professionals Association (IPA) that I could apply for. I applied, got in and spent around 20 weeks during the pandemic training to be an IC,” she adds.
“To understand what an intimacy coordinator does, we first need to dive into the definition of intimacy. Thinking of it as just a sexual act is very reductive, because a larger spectrum of intimacy also involves minors and small children. In case of minors, the scenes can range from exploration of their sexuality, first kisses to simple and basic familial relations shared on screen. People don’t realise that scenes with childbirth, non-sexual on-screen hugs and kisses with kids or minors are also considered intimate. In these scenes, the child artists and minors are performing not with their parents but actors playing the role of their parents or guardians, hence the job to ensure their safety, consent and comfort becomes of the utmost importance,” explains Aastha.
Aastha who has previously worked as an assistant director in prominent films, like Student of The Year 2 (2019), Andhadhun (2018) and Badlapur (2015), has now been involved in more than seven projects as an IC. These include upcoming web series and films with Netflix, Amazon Prime and Dharma Productions.
She adds that a change in behaviour is required to reflect beyond the screen. “As a culture, Indians are very physical in their interactions. From pulling the cheek of a stranger’s kid without consent to assuming that one needs to be 18 years of age to have agency of their physical being, the smallest of actions play into creating the larger fabric of social relations and we need to acknowledge it. Normalising and trivialising abuse is not the solution,” she says.
An intimacy coordinator also performs the task of a mental health first-aider on set, especially during scenes when minors are exposed to situations of sexual violence and trauma.
To explain this to most people on set, she follows a simple logic — “If you don’t want your child to experience the trauma played on-screen, make sure there is an IC on set when you are shooting such a scene with somebody else’s child.”
‘Are You The Sex Police?’
Being the first IC in a country that continues to grapple with issues around intimacy, sexual or otherwise, is mired with challenges. Hence, the path for Aastha as the first certified IC in India was extremely exciting but also full of roadblocks.
“With the glory of being the first at anything comes its own set of challenges. For me, it was to prove my legitimacy and worth every single day. When you are going against the wave, people will question you at every step. I have been asked whether I am required on set, whether I bring anything special to the table, the budget implications or if I am even qualified enough and all sorts of things. People have even asked if I’m a very sexually active person, what my parents think about my job or on the other end, if I am a prude or a sex police. The questions range from funny, ignorant to borderline offensive, but that’s fine as long as the work helps people,” says Aastha.
She adds that the idea that an IC might be a ‘sex police’ is a misnomer because it is their job to make the production safe while ensuring that the intimate scenes are steamy, realistic and organic, all while each performer feels comfortable and secure. “An IC helps ensure clear conversations between a creative team and the performers, by empowering the latter to know and ask for what they need from a safety and mental comfort perspective. The most important part of my job is to uphold performer consent at all times,” she adds.
While Aastha might be the first certified IC in the country, she adds that there might have been many before her performing facets of the role in isolation. But she is quick to add that a professional approach covers much more ground ensuring that both the performers and the creators are satisfied throughout the production process. A lone ranger for now, she with IPA’s support is striving to create a community of intimacy professionals in India, encouraging a new generation of progressive content creators.
In 2008, when Ayush Mishra was in his first year of college, he was riding pillion on a bike with his friend to their university in Jaipur. On the highway, a drunk truck driver rammed into the bike. “It was a terrible accident,” Ayush recalls. “I was left with the truck on my leg as the driver ran away. Those who stopped to help brought the truck driver back somehow, and asked him to move the truck off my leg.”
Ayush was first taken to a government hospital in Jaipur, where his parents arrived from Bareilly. They took him back to their hometown, but by the time he arrived in the city, his condition had worsened. “I slipped into a coma and the doctor who was treating my leg realised that a lot of infection had built up because of the negligence of the government hospital in Jaipur,” Ayush tells The Better India. “He told my parents that I might not survive if I didn’t receive proper care and asked them to take me to Delhi.”
He adds, “When you’re in smaller towns and cities, you often hear — ‘take them to Delhi or Mumbai’ or any big city that has better healthcare infrastructure. My father thankfully knew someone at Apollo Indraprastha Hospital [Delhi] at the time. But when an incident like this happens in small towns, there are many questions posed. For example, where in Delhi or Mumbai do you take the patient? What would be the cost? How much time will this take? How do you take them to the city in the first place? In my case, it’s not like I could just be put in a car, since I was in a coma.”
Luckily, the surgeon at Apollo guided Ayush’s father accordingly. Ayush remained in the hospital for around 90-100 days, underwent around 20 surgeries and was on the ventilator for 17 days. He lost his leg but managed to slowly recuperate. However, even after he started on the road to recovery, he’d have to frequent between Delhi and Bareilly for follow ups. He eventually recovered fully, returned to college and finished his engineering degree. But one thought always remained with him.
What if his father didn’t have any connections at Apollo? Would he have survived?
It was this incident that sparked the idea of trying to bridge the gap between people residing in Tier II and Tier III cities and quality healthcare provided in Tier I cities. In 2018, Ayush founded Tattvan E-Clinics, which is a tele-medicine venture that connects people in rural areas with doctors in urban cities for timely and adequate healthcare.
The idea of starting Tattvan came about after Ayush’s life-changing accident, in which he lost a leg due to medical negligence and delayed treatment (Source: Ayush Mishra)
Making ‘the best’ doctors accessible
“We set up our first clinic in Bareilly in 2018 but we realised that while it’s a Tier II city, there is still some availability of surgeons and physicians. The larger need for a clinic like this was in rural areas,” Ayush notes. “We established clinics in Dehradun and Hyderabad, and while these were doing well, we were only working as referral agents of sort, where we were just ferrying patients from these towns to bigger cities but I wanted to put real value on the table.”
However, plans of expansion were put on hold due to the pandemic. As the first lockdown eased slightly, Ayush decided to work towards reaching rural areas. Around Diwali last year, Tattvan set up its first franchise clinic in Lalganj, near Varanasi. “It worked wonderfully. We thought the local doctors, who are often called jholachaps, would create some friction for us. But instead, they ended up being our most trusted partners. They helped us establish and run our clinic smoothly.”
Tattvan has 80 clinics across Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand, Bihar, Jharkhand, Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan. The organisation aims to establish 400 clinics by the end of this year. Currently, over 500 physicians have attached themselves with the venture.
Providing more insight into the work that Tattvan does, Ayush says, “If you walk into any of our clinics, even in the remotest and most rural parts of the state, you will be able to access the best cardiologists, oncologists or any type of doctor you need. You can also connect with the nearest doctor to you. So it’s not like if you’re a patient in Lalganj then you’ll connect with a doctor in, say, Kerala. In case you need to pay the doctor a visit, things won’t be too hard for you. You’ll get prescribed tests and medicines.”
Tattvan has 80 clinics across rural towns in India (Source: Ayush Mishra)
Ayush notes that to find doctors or specialists treating infectious, cardiovascular, endocrine or neurological diseases in rural areas is extremely difficult. “Even in a city like Bareilly, finding an endocrinologist was very hard. So village areas are worse off. Patients will have to travel to different districts and travel for hours at end to get proper treatment. Cardiac or diabetic patients need regular doctor visits and prescriptions so that they can avoid future hospitalisation. In villages, since this solution is not easily available, patients will go back to old grandmother remedies, which increases risk of hospitalisation. We work to reduce this risk, and have been able to do so by around 70 per cent,” he says.
Optimising affordable healthcare
Speaking about trying to bring quality healthcare to the remotest parts of the country, Ayush says, “It’s one of our biggest challenges. It’s not for logistical reasons, but rather cultural aspects. When we began, patients would often come and ask us — ‘If the doctor hasn’t even touched us physically, how do they know we’re sick?’ So the biggest challenge here is patient education in terms of what options are available to them and the power of those options.”
“We started off slowly, and as one or two patients came to us, we were able to establish a level of trust. Then they recommended us to their peers and so on. We tweaked our business model whenever required. Today, we’ve been able to minimise that challenge by more than 90%,” Ayush says.
Tattvan aims to open 300 clinics by the end of this year (Source: Ayush Mishra)
Ayush also notes that patients being treated at Tattvan’s e-clinics pay less than they would elsewhere. “An average doctor consultation in, say, Delhi, will cost between Rs 1,000 and Rs 1,500. At Tattvan, a patient pays Rs 600 per consultation,” he says.
After the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, Tattvan also launched facilities in Tier II and III cities—including Kairakat, Balrampur, Phoolpur, Sonbhadraand Banaras in Uttar Pradesh and Malsisar district in Rajasthan—wherein they provided ‘Self-care Assessment COVID Packages’ to people so they could avail teleconsultation, timely medication, COVID-19 related results and medicines from the comfort of their homes.
“Doctors who we have tied up with are now a little more inclined towards telemedicine,” Ayush says. “Earlier, this was a huge challenge, because doctors were hesitant about offering services without personal interaction, and because there was a lot of medico-legal ambiguity. After the coronavirus pandemic began and the government laid down clearer guidelines for telemedicine in India, the motivation in doctors to treat patients this way has increased.” In 2020, Tattvan bagged the Asian Achievers Award for Best Rural & Social Healthcare Business in India, supported by the Ministry of Social Justice & Empowerment, Government of India.
However, he notes, “Telemedicine is just a tool. We have to focus on primary healthcare. If you have a solid infrastructure in that area, you could significantly reduce unnecessary hospital admissions. That’s what Tattvan is working towards. The condition of PHCs around India is not up to the mark yet, and this has been highlighted yet again amid the pandemic. Many are non-operational and lack adequate manforce. So we have a long way to go. My vision here is to optimise healthcare and improve the doctor-patient ratio in rural India.”
For more information or to visit these clinics, you can check out Tattvan’s website.
One’s first impression of the sculptures yielded in excavations from various Harappan sites across India and Pakistan, is of how prim and proper the Harappans were. Take, for example, the Harappan Priest King who flaunts a gentlemanly, kempt beard with sharp and precise lines around his cheek and jawlines. It showcases the meticulous approach of the Harappans towards grooming and appearance, and the usage of personal care products.
Source: Wikipedia
The Harappan script remains undeciphered, leaving us with only tangible archaeological remains to discover and interpret the lives of its inhabitants. Well-planned cities to an advanced ceramic culture speak volumes of the objects and technologies that were used in their day-to-day routine 4,500 years ago. One aspect includes a range of beauty and grooming paraphernalia that were used by the Harappans.
The Indus Valley Civilisation covers an area of over a million square kilometers. It extends from Shortugai (Afghanistan) in the north to Daimabad (Maharashtra, India) in the south and from Sutkagan Dor (Pakistan) in the west to Alamgirpur (Uttar Pradesh, India) in the east. Within this radius lies over thousands of sites, among which some of the most famous are Harappa, Mohenjodaro in Pakistan, and Rakhigarhi (Haryana), Dholavira (Gujarat) and Kalibangan (Rajasthan) in India. Among the grooming tools excavated from the many Harappan sites that have been in use since 2500 BCE (mature Harappan phase), some include:
Unearthed from various Harappan sites, the mirrors used during the Indus Valley civilisation were quite different from the glass mirrors that we use today. Dating back to 2000 BCE, they were made of copper and bronze wherein one side of the object was polished while the other side was left plain. These mirrors are oval in shape. Among them, two bronze mirrors that were found at the site of Mohenjodaro possess handles with a hole at the end. On two occasions, mirrors were found in burials with other grave goods. At Harappa, for instance, a copper mirror was found in the water jar along with other pottery and in Kalibangan, a bronze mirror was placed in a grave close to the head of a human skeleton. A Harappan mirror is currently housed at the National Museum of India in New Delhi.
Kohl:
While a few Indus Valley Civilisation sites boast of kohl sticks, the others housed caskets with traces of kohl, collyrium and cerussite (a carbonate of lead). Made of copper/bronze, ivory and bone, the sticks are long and round. Procured from the sites of Harappa and Mohenjodaro, they are pointed at one end with a pin, tooth-pick, ear-cleaner or a decorative figure on the other. However, the kohl caskets were made of bronze, silver, faience, alabaster, terracotta and sometimes stone. The narrow-mouthed and long neck vessel found in Chanhudaro suggests that it was made to store kohl. The vessel comprises minute holes that are drilled on either side. Archaeologists suggest that these holes were considered to have once contained some cosmetics, and it was thought necessary to hang them up to protect their contents from mice and ants.
Copper implements:
A toilet kit with a combination of copper implements such as earscoop, piercer and tweezers were found in Harappa. Over 12 such kits were found in sites such as Kish in Iraq and Ur in Mesopotamia. This could be a result of the trading relationship that prevailed between these civilisations, with some phases of them being contemporary to that of the Indus Valley Civilisation. Besides, a large quantity of razors in diverse shapes were found in Mohenjodaro. They were suggestive of the fact that shaving of the face, if not the body, was extensively practiced by the inhabitants.
Sindoor and Lipstick:
Traces of cinnabar — an ore of mercury used to make face paints, sindoor and lipstick among other things — have been found in the Indus Valley Civilisation sites, leading archaeologists to speculate about its possible use by the Harappans. Archaeologists have even unearthed something they suspect to be a lipstick from the site of Chanhudaro. Moreover, figurines at the site of Nausharo (present day Pakistan), dating back to 2800-2600 BCE show traces of a red pigment at the parting of their hair, similar to the sindoor of present-day married women in India.
As opposed to the plastic and wooden combs used today, the combs used by the Harappans were made of ivory. They were found in a variety of shapes and sizes, from numerous Indus Valley sites namely Mohenjodaro, Kalibangan, Chanhudaro, Harappa, Banawali and Rakhigarhi, among others. Some were typically designed to brush long hanks of hair while a few were deliberated to remove lice. Additionally, Indus-style combs together with a plethora of other Harappan objects were unearthed from the sites of Ras-al-Jinz and Tell Abraq in the Oman Peninsula, suggesting vigorous trade between these regions.
Harappan sculptures as well as the excavated materials speak volumes about how grooming and primping was as important for them as it is for people today.
Sources: Kenoyer, Mark and George F. Dales, Ancient Cities of the Indus Valley Civilization. Oxford University Press, 1998; Possehl, Gregory, The Indus Civilization: A Contemporary Perspective. AltaMira Press, 2002; Ghosh, Amalananda, An Encyclopaedia of Indian Archaeology. Brill, 1990; Jain, Kailash Chand, Prehistory and Protohistory of India. Agam, 1978; Sinha, SK, Synthesis of Cultures in Ancient India. Hyderabad Paper Backs, 2006; Mackay, EJH, ‘Further Excavations at Mohenjodaro’; Frenez, Dennys, ‘The Indus Civilization Trade with the Oman Peninsula.
There is a unique language in India spoken by all. Although not counted among the 22 official languages of India or the 19,500 dialects, this is a language that transcends communal differences, cultural diversity or even national boundaries.
An invisible unifying link is the language of food.
From the curious crunch to the mesmerising ‘mmmm’, this ancient language has survived through aeons, helping people truly communicate. A medley of delicious syllables, at the heart of this language lies a complex concoction of condiments, also known as spices.
Used whole, powdered, roasted, dried or soaked, a mere sprinkle of spices, that encapsulates a sea of flavours within them, helps refine the language with every bite or slurp. Every region of the country cradles a secret mix of local spices that enhances their cuisine.
Bengal’s shukto is one such culinary extraordinaire which employs a combination of unique local spices to elevate the gastronomic experience. A food that bears a whiff of nostalgia, shukto is a subtle vegetable and lentil dumpling curry that is incomplete without a loving sprinkle of paanch phoron – a five spice melange that consists of fenugreek (methi), cumin (jeera), radhuni, black cumin or kalonji (nigella) and fennel (saunf). It is the addition of a Bengal spice called radhuni that makes this dish unique and timeless.
It is through the addition, substitution or subtraction of certain spices that similar foods cooked in two different regions can taste completely different. For instance, the sambhar cooked in Karnataka and Kerala is substantially different from the one cooked in Tamil Nadu.
Beyond the usual, turmeric, cumin, coriander, mustard and cinnamon, here are 10 unique spices from all across India that have the potential to transform any mundane dish into a magical experience.
Karbi Anglong Ginger
Grown in the picturesque hills of Karbi Anglong in Assam, this organic ginger is quite popular in the region. It comes in two varieties – Nadia, which is high in fibre, and Aizol, which is smoother and less fibrous. Known to have many medicinal properties, this organic ginger is used in regional cuisine and also found prominence in several European kitchens.
Native to Northeast India and parts of Bangladesh, this extremely spicy chilli is a cousin to the Bhut Jolokia or Ghost Chilli, and is known to be one of the hottest naturally occurring chilli peppers in the world. However, despite the heat, it also boasts a unique flavour that consists of smoky, woody, sweet and tart undertones, making it a perfect condiment for a barbeque.
Also known as ‘Pahadi tejpatta’, it is grown at a height of 1,000 to 2,200 metres, in the hilly regions of Uttarakhand. Slightly different from the usual bay leaf used in Indian households, this one is used for the subtle sweet flavour it adds to foods and is extremely popular both in national and international kitchens.
Hailing from the eponymous small village in Maharashtra, this organic variety called ‘Waigaon Haldi’ is known for its supreme medicinal properties. Its higher quality is also defined by the powdering process, which is different from the normal pulverisation process used for other varieties of turmeric. Instead, locals use an indigenous pounding machine called ‘Kandap yantra’ to powder the spice, ensuring its flavour and unique properties are intact.
Pride and joy of Andhra Pradesh’s heat-prominent cuisine, this variety of chilli called Guntur Sannam has a unique tangy flavour complimenting the heat. It is grown in several districts of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana and is used to flavour curries as well as wet and dry pickles.
Malabar Pepper
Originating in the Malabar region of the erstwhile Madras Presidency, this black pepper variety was known to be a sought-after spice, especially by ancient Roman and Arab traders and later the Europeans. Now grown in Kerala, this comes in two grades – garbled, which has a black wrinkled surface, and ungarbled with a wrinkled but dark brown to black surface.
Lakadong Turmeric
Cultivation of Lakadong turmeric in the foothills of Jaintia Hills in Meghalaya led to a silent revolution that positively impacted the lives of hundreds of local farmers. An indigenous variety today, this turmeric is known as one of the world’s finest for its high curcumin content (over 7%), which bestows it with antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties. It adds a bright yellow hue to food and gives it an earthy flavour. Lakadong turmeric is now being used in several national and international gourmet cuisines as well.
Originally found as a wild plant in the mountainous forests of North-Western Himalayas, Himachal Kala Jeera is cultivated as a cash crop today due to its increasing demand. Known for its higher concentration of volatile oils that lend to its medicinal properties, this variety of black cumin is comparatively darker and sweeter than the others. When lightly roasted, this spice can enhance any regular curry.
Erode Turmeric
Sourced from Erode district of Tamil Nadu, this is another variety of turmeric that is highly sought-after in international markets. Used in gourmet kitchens, this turmeric variety has 2.5 to 4.5 per cent curcumin content, making it very valuable with respect to its medicinal properties.
Kashmir Saffron
Globally known as ‘red gold spice’, the Kashmir Saffron is considered one of the world’s most expensive spices. Tracing back to the Persians who brought this magical spice to India from Iran, this crimson spice is now used in sophisticated delicacies like Biryani or Qormas, and is revered for the golden colour and pungent aromatic flavour it lends to the food.
In Room 305 in Chandigarh’s Regional Passport Office, Reena and Amrit sit together to sift through piles of documents. The room is abuzz with activity, as the women scan through various applications, overlook the filing of several FIRs, and maintain a carefully curated list of names to be taken to regional passport officer (RPO) Sibash Kabiraj.
These young women are on a mission — to deliver justice to brides deserted by absconding NRI husbands. And as Reena notes, this is all thanks to the efforts of the IPS officer, who was the first to take up their cause.
Kabiraj (44) is a 1999-batch IPS officer of the Haryana cadre, who has been in the posting since 2017. He has been a rare beacon of hope for women who have been cheated of a decent living by their husbands.
“A group of women first approached me in 2018,” Kabiraj tells The Better India. “They were in great distress. After marriage, their husbands had settled in foreign countries. This is commonplace across Punjab and parts of Haryana. Once the husbands arrive in these foreign countries, they don’t disclose to authorities there that they have spouses back home. In many cases, they end up remarrying. Then they’ll visit home for a few weeks once a year, have a good time and then leave again. But they never take their wives along.”
Sibash Kabiraj (Source: Sibash Kabiraj)
A fight for justice
He adds, “The real trauma starts once they have kids with their wives back home. The husbands get citizenship outside and then never return. The wives, meanwhile, are either pregnant or already have a kid or two, and the in-laws start mistreating them.”
Kabiraj says, “She’s kept more or less as a servant, deemed worthy of only doing house work. Many times, the in-laws also kick her out of the house. In other cases, the husband and his family will marry one girl, take large amounts of dowry, and then desert her and move on to another woman, without disclosing the existence of his first wife.”
Among these women was Reena (33). “I was married on 25 November 2012 in Kurukshetra. My husband was in the police force. Things were quite good for the first few years. But he had a relative who lived in the US, who himself had married twice — one wife was here and the other was with him in the US. When that relative visited us, he told my husband about the life he was leading, and I think that’s how he was swayed,” she says.
In 2017, Reena’s husband fled to Mexico and arrived in the US illegally. For a month, she didn’t hear from him and had no idea where he was. “A month later, he called me and said he was posted somewhere from work. After that, there was only chaos,” she recalls.
Reena is among a group named TogetherWeCan, which fights for the plight of such women abandoned by absconding husbands, which started as a WhatsApp group of women from Punjab, Haryana and Himachal Pradesh.
“I learned that even women who go with their husbands through the H4 Visa are facing great troubles. Once they arrive in the foreign country, they’re informed by their husband that he already has a wife there, and the dependent woman is given two options — do household chores, or leave,” Reena says.
The women have been given a dedicated office to work on the cases (Source: Reena/Sibash Kabiraj)
“In this group, many women told me to keep looking out for the term ‘passport impound’, and do more research on that. After we realised what this term meant, we reached out to Kabiraj sir,” she adds.
When the women came to Kabiraj for help, they were truly helpless, he says. “The courts and NRI Commission were of no help, and the women’s in-laws were either ill-treating them or had kicked them out completely. They had children to care for and no livelihood of their own.”
Kabiraj took it upon himself to help them. As he sat down to look into what could be done, he came across a section in the Passports Act, 1967. “Section 10(3) states that if a summons, warrant or criminal case is pending against an Indian passport holder, then the passport can be impounded or cancelled. But this provision was not too much in use. This is because impounding or cancellation is a very tedious process and involves a large amount of paperwork — you need to have a copy of the warrant, chargesheet, FIR and more. The documents have to be absolutely accurate or the case falls apart in court,” he says.
Women stand together
“When I spoke to the girls, I found that many of them were quite educated — some were CAs, some were doctors and some had even done law. So we made a task force of 10-15 girls and I gave them an office with required facilities. We trained them to take up such cases, taught them how to draw up notices, and how to collect required documents. Documents that were earlier not made available to them by the police were now at their disposal. We coordinated with the police to make sure that happened. These women do 90% of the work and one government official is sent with them to supervise. The final document is then submitted to me and we cancel or impound the passport accordingly,” Kabiraj explains.
After the passport is cancelled, the visa is deemed void. Thereafter, when the accused goes to the passport office to avail of any services, he is deported to India. If one arrives in India with an impounded passport, his passport is immediately confiscated at the airport. “In the last three years, we have impounded and cancelled around 500 passports, and more than 75 such absconding husbands have been arrested,” Kabiraj says. “Many of them have been compelled to return to India and complete their settlements with these women, many have faced criminal trials as well.”
Explaining the steps that Reena and her team take to help a victim, she explains, “When a woman approaches us, we first talk to them and hear them out. Then we take down an application, a copy of the FIR, a Look Out Circular (LOC) and the warrant. To impound the passport, first a notice is sent to the husband. Then, a week later, another 7-day notice is sent. If after all this, the man decides not to comply—which happens more often than not—the passport is impounded.” This is a month-long process, she adds.
Reena recalls, “When we approached sir, he was very appalled by what we were going through. He guided us through the entire process. He told us he had a shortage of manpower, but more than that, he wanted the task force to be able to relate to what we were going through. A regular team would only view our situation as another professional task, which is what sir didn’t want. He truly empathised with us. No one has helped us the way Kabiraj sir has. He sat with us for hours on end, heard us out patiently, listened to us cry and howl about our suffering, helped us get counselling, and constantly motivated us. He told us to view ourselves as fighters and not victims.”
Kabiraj helped Reena and her team hold seminars and reach out to a wider range of women going through the same issues. “We taught other girls how they can help each other attain justice. We could understand each other’s plight. So many women come to us with two-three children and nowhere to go, with no respite, and it’s so heartbreaking to see,” Reena says.
Bipin Das, 43, has spent the last 26 years burning the midnight oil to keep a dying art alive.
A skilled senior Pattachitra artist based out of a small village near Raghurajpur, Odisha, he dedicates hours painting intricate mythical stories on various surfaces, from canvas paper to coconut shells, keeping the state’s traditional artform alive. But even the bold and bright strokes of his brush couldn’t colour the grim reality that Bipin and many artists of the region have suffered in the past two years.
First came the cyclone Fani in 2019, tearing down the artisan villages of Puri district. Not just their homes but also art pieces worth lakhs that took years to complete were ravaged, leaving these families utterly helpless. Bipin’s family was among them.
After they barely survived the devastation of the cyclone, a second disaster hit in 2020 — the COVID-19 pandemic.
“We had incurred losses amounting to lakhs of rupees, which even the government compensations could not cover. Tourism is a big source of income for us, as it helps us sell our art. But with the lockdown, we even lost this scope of recovering from the devastation of the cyclone. Unlike others, we have dedicated our lives to this art and don’t know any other skill like farming or labour work, which meant that during this time we had no income,” shares Bipin, who along with his two brothers support a family of 10 people based on the sale of Patta paintings.
Like Bipin, hundreds of families of Pattachitra artists gravely suffered the consequences of these disasters. “I don’t think we could’ve sailed through this if not for some selfless people who came forward with a helping hand,” adds Bipin, talking about a social media initiative that helped revive the income of many artisan families in the region.
Social media to the Rescue
With the help of Karnataka-cadre IFS officer, Dipika Bajpai, Bipin was able to leverage the power of social media to solve the problems of his community. A Pattachitra connoisseur herself, Dipika got to know about the plight of the artists back in 2020 after which she started posting photographs of Patta paintings by these artists on her Twitter handle.
“In 2020, I came across a message from a neighbour, seeking help for a pattachitra artist called Bipin Das. Being born and brought up in Odisha, the state and its art is close to my heart and so I wanted to help. I decided to buy a painting of their local deity Lord Jagannath, but soon I realised that I could do more,” says Dipika who supported Bipin and many artists like him by promoting the Patta paintings online.
Soon, the intricate marvels began to receive their deserved attention and orders began to flow. At this point, Bipin connected with 35 artisan families from nearby areas with this initiative, while Dipika launched a dedicated handle on Twitter to directly connect the artists with the buyers.
Once the orders were received online, the artists began to paint and courier the pieces directly to the buyers.
“Through social media we are now connected with the entire world and orders have begun to come in from all over India and abroad as well. This online marketing that I was unaware of before, has helped connect the artist to the buyers, which ensures that we get the right price for our labour of love. Now thanks to social media our sales are much better even than the usual times,” says Bipin.
Starting from Rs1,500 and going up to lakhs, Patta paintings are extremely intricate and require a lot of time and effort to complete. “Some paintings can even take years to complete,” says Bipin whose most expensive sale so far has been worth Rs 2.1 lakh. However, through the online platform they have been able to sell almost 200 pieces, including both large and small paintings.
In a place like Raghurajpur, which is home to almost 150 artisan families, this initiative has proved to be a silver lining with a potential for massive impact in the coming years.
If you would like to check out their pieces, please click here.
You may call it by many names—panta bhaat, geel bhaat, pazhaya sadham or pakhala bhaat—this local soul food has dominated home kitchens pan India. Made with love for centuries, the fermented rice gruel was always said to be a cooling probiotic with a myriad of health benefits.
On several occasions, my grandmother would often claim that panta bhat was extremely beneficial for weight control, improving gastric health and enhancing bone strength. While these claims made back then were not scientifically proven, Bhubaneswar-based researcher, Professor Balamurugan Ramadass’ recent study on pakhala provides it the much needed scientific backing.
Working under All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS) as the head of the Institute’s Centre of Excellence for Clinical Microbiome Research, Professor Balamurugan through his research has discovered that fermented rice gruel, known as ‘Pakhala’ in Odisha, contains short-chain fatty acids that are responsible for improving gut health and boosting immunity, among other health benefits.
“I have been researching gut microbiome since 2002 and as extension of that we were working towards treating malnutritioned children at AIIMS. This involved providing them with complex carbohydrates with supplements like short-chain fatty acids (SCFA) that was found to be abundant in the fermented rice water, locally known as torani. As we were in search of food supplements that were easily accessible and affordable across various economic backgrounds and regions, we zeroed in on the benefits of pakhala or fermented rice and began our research in 2019,” says Prof Ramadass.
He adds that the SCFA found in torani, which is the water in pakhala, is known to provide a lot of energy and is filled with antiviral peptides and anti-inflammatory properties. While on one hand, high nutritional value found in torani helps in combating malnutrition, on the other hand, its ability to provide high energy also allows the body to stay full for longer periods thus contributing to weight control.
Prof Ramadass, with his team of eight, analysed at least 20 samples of torani collected from households from different socio-economic backgrounds and locations, to reach this conclusion. The microbial culture found in the samples revealed the presence of lactobacillus, making torani a probiotic.
“The lactobacillus found in torani boosts secretory immunoglobulin, which helps the body fight various local infections, especially in the intestines and lungs, thus helping improve immunity,” adds the professor. He is working towards using his research to help people with several health conditions like malnutrition, HIV, etc.
The 43-year-old professor is hopeful that this discovery would be a game-changer impacting millions of lives in the years to come.
As the sky growls angrily announcing the impending showers, my mother rushes to the kitchen to make arrangements for the grand arrival. In a matter of minutes, a thick batter full of wondrous flavours is ready. She scoops out delicate balls of the batter and releases them into the hot oil. Then, a magical duet ensues as the sizzles of the oil welcoming the tiny balls, join the cheerful pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting the window. Served with a piping hot cup of tea or coffee, ‘tele-bhaja’ as they are called in Bengali, manage to bring joy with every bite.
Although a personal memory, I cannot lay claim to it as this is a nostalgic moment experienced by almost every Indian. Adored across the country, this comfort snack has a number of names like tele-bhaja, bhajji, bonda, vada, etc. But, in a more generic sense, we all know it as the humble but absolutely fabulous pakoras.
A snack that is easily found in almost every corner of the country, pakoras are a simple dish packed with complex flavours. In a moment it can metamorphosize from being the star of a tea-time ritual to a reliable side-dish in a meal. For instance, in some Bengali families, tele-bhajas form an integral part of the multi-course daily meal.
Almost any vegetable, greens, fruits, fish or even meat can be made into pakoras, which reminds me of a funny story about my neighbour who would refuse to have her meal without a bowl of tele-bhajas on the side. One day, to teach her a lesson, her mother picked up some fresh grass, washed it thoroughly and dipped in a thick spiced batter of besan (chickpea flour) and fried it for her daughter, who unbeknownst enjoyed the same for lunch.
Whatever be the memory, this dish is an emotion wrapped in layers of spiced besan or any other kind of flour, and fried till golden.
Be it begunis (eggplant pakora) served in Durga Puja bhogs, Mumbai’s batata vada (potato pakoras) or the stringy onion crisps called vengayam pakoda served in Chennai, almost every region in India boasts its unique variety of pakoras. Although the West has its fritters and beignets, the chickpea flour batter and the concept of ‘pakki rasoi’ and ‘kachchi rasoi’ are exclusive to Indian pakoras.
Indian cuisine was broadly divided into two sections—pakki rasoi and kachchi rasoi—based on the process of preparation of food. While ‘kachchi rasoi’ entailed boiled or raw foods that couldn’t be stored for long, ‘pakki rasoi’ included foods that were fried and stored for longer, especially during long travels. The high heat used to fry the food ensured little to no moisture was left in it.
With time, the round pakwata (‘pakka’ meaning cooked and ‘watta’ meaning laddu) began to be colloquially known as ‘pakoras’.
This unique dish, in all its diversity, also traveled across the globe, influencing and assimilating into foreign palates. One such prominent influence of Indian pakoras can be found in a Japanese a delicacy — the tempura.
According to food experts, back in the 16th century, Spanish and Portuguese ships would stop in India while enroute to Japan. During the halt, they would onboard cooks from India who were said to have taught the Europeans different ways to consume vegetables, with pakoras being one of the dishes served. Eventually, when the ships would reach Japan, many of the Indian cooks would stay back who went on to influence Japanese cuisine and helped create the dish called ‘tempura’.
There was no tempura in Japan before the Portuguese traders. What solidifies this theory is the fact that tempura continues to be an anomaly in Japanese cuisine where deep-frying is not traditionally practiced. Most of their fried dishes are shallow-fried instead.
However, unlike our pakoras, the sophisticated tempura version uses wheat flour which makes them more crispy.
Over the years, pakoras have undergone myriad changes. A traditionally vegetarian dish, it has come to embrace several complex Indian flavours and textures, and sometimes even experience fusion twists. Yet through all of these transformations, it has never failed to lose its brilliance and the ability to provide comfort in every single bite.
Check out the Pakora Map of India
Kushi Keraw Dal pakora (small green peas pakora) Ingredients
Keraw (250 g) Turmeric- 1 teaspoon Salt to taste Green chillies – 2 Red chilli powder – 1 teaspoon Ground pepper – ½ teaspoon Besan – 1 cup Garlic – 2 cloves finely chopped Small ginger – finely chopped Coriander seeds – 1-2 tablespoon Cumin seeds – 1 tablespoon Onion – 1 finely chopped Coriander leaves Vegetable oil Method: Soak the keraw dal overnight and drain.
Blend the keraw dal into a coarse paste, while keeping 2- 3 tablespoons of dal aside in its whole form.
Incorporate all the ingredients in a bowl to make a thick batter. Make small flat balls and deep fry in vegetable oil until golden brown.
Serve with coriander and mint chutney.
Credit: Seema Kumar, a home cook from Bihar
Neerphanas Bhajji (jackfruit pakora) Ingredients
Half a neerphanas (breadfruit; about a kg) or jackfruit Red chilli powder – 1 teaspoon Besan – 1 cup Rice flour – 1 cup Carom seeds – 2 teaspoons Cumin powder – 1 teaspoon Hot chilli powder – 1 teaspoon Salt to taste Green chilli paste – 1 tablespoon Garlic paste – 1 tablespoon Ginger paste – 1 tablespoon Dry mango powder – 1 teaspoon Water – ¾ cup Vegetable oil Method
Peel the breadfruit or jackfruit and cut lengthwise into two parts and make 6-8 mm thick slices. Make sure to remove the seeds. Lightly apply salt and chilli powder and allow it to rest for 30 minutes. Mix all the other ingredients in a bowl to make a batter. Dip the slices in the batter and deep fry in medium hot oil until golden brown. Serve hot with chutney.
Prawn head and legs pakoras Ingredients Heads and legs of King prawns or giant river prawns (250 g) Cleaned and deveined prawns (optional) Onion – 1 chopped Green chillies – 2 chopped Garlic cloves – 4 cloves finely chopped Ginger – finely chopped Coriander Turmeric – ½ teaspoon Salt to taste Chickpea flour or Besan – 1/2 cup Garam masala – 1 teaspoon Red chilly powder – ½ teaspoon Mustard oil (to saute) – 1 ½ tablespoon Vegetable oil (for deep frying) Method
Thoroughly clean and devein the prawns and use the legs and heads, which are usually thrown away, to make this pakora.
Make sure to remove the eyes and antennas of the prawn before proceeding.
Once clean, let the excess water drain and saute the prawn parts along with the prawns (optional) in mustard oil, till they turn orange.
Strain and keep aside to cool. Make a coarse paste with some oil and water.
Add all the ingredients in a bowl and mix till you can form balls out of it.
Deep fry in vegetable oil and serve with some coriander chutney or kasundi.
Credit: Indrani Barua, a home cook from West Bengal.
The Fast Moving Consumer Goods (FMCG) industry, with a reach from essential to luxury products, is today the fourth largest industry in the Indian economy.
However, on the flip side, despite being a major source of revenue for the economy, prominent FMCG companies have continued to struggle with the burgeoning problem of packaging waste for decades.
However, with changing times, leading FMCG companies are striving to revolutionise their processes. These companies have the power to create positive trends and transform the economy to become more sustainable.
Dabur is a pioneer in this endeavour and has launched a myriad of positive initiatives to encourage and ensure sustainability on a large-scale. On their journey to become a more sustainable and environmentally-responsible company, they have been collecting, processing and recycling millions of kilograms of waste.
However, the path to do so was anything but easy.
The first challenge was to take sustainable measures that did not disrupt their production and sale cycle — such as cutting down on the use of packaging materials without affecting customer convenience.
To overcome this, Dabur recently launched an initiative that is bound to set an example for the rest of the industry. Single-use and secondary packaging are usually discarded into the waste bin after purchase. So, they chose to do away with the cartons in which the products are sold.
Dabur India has decided to go carton-free for one of their main products — Dabur Red toothpaste.
The paper saved by removing the outer cartons will be repurposed to create notebooks for underprivileged children with the support of a New Delhi-based NGO, Child Rights and You (CRY).
Dabur has tied up with Reliance Retail to ensure the sale of this essential product without the carton packaging in self-service stores or trade outlets.
Through such initiatives, the company aims to collect 100 per cent of the waste that it generates through its product packaging.
“In the world of toothpaste advertising, one sticks to functionality. Seldom does one get the opportunity to thank the consumers who have truly loved and embraced the brand, making it part of their lives. Dabur Red Paste is now the preferred toothpaste brand for 35 crore Indians and it’s time we celebrated this. This campaign salutes the trust which the consumers have reposed in the brand. And we did it with aplomb,” says Harkawal Singh, Head Marketing, Oral Care, Dabur India Ltd.
Dabur is spreading the message of #ChabateRahoIndia and #EnvironmentKoBachateRahoIndia with a hope that their initiatives will lead to a movement where Indian brands are inspired to build a more sustainable future.
Like all ’90s kids in India, I too grew up watching the popular dance show called ‘Boogie Woogie’ and aspired to be on that stage. I would love to dance and could do it for several hours at a stretch. The world around me would fade away the very moment someone would play any music. My parents loved watching me dance, and like any Indian family, they would proudly boast about it to their friends, who would then want to see a demonstration.
As a 4-year-old, I loved all the attention and would move to the tunes almost at every gathering, whenever someone requested a performance. But, as I grew older it got harder to make the world around me disappear every time I danced. The peering eyes appreciating my performance began to feel like they were piercing me. The 7-year-old me did not like to dance on cue, or appreciate nosy auntys pinching my cheeks red. I started refusing politely and prefered to be on my own. The refusals, however, did not always sit well with the crowd. As a response, most would resort to repeated insistence, some would complain ‘why had I become so shy and reserved’, and few even called me rude. “You used to be such a cheerful kid”, was the most common complaint.
So, for the longest time, I was under the impression that I lacked something. That I was too reserved to be fun and incapable of embracing the art of dance that I loved so much. I believed what they all said and let the crazy fade.
But things might have been different if someone would’ve told my younger self — “It’s fine. It’s your body. Do whatever you please or feel comfortable.”
Although this might seem like a silly rant, the mighty debate around consent, self-love and all things that ensure your agency, start from this point, suggests sex-educator and influencer Swati Jagdish.
The idea of consent begins to build in a person when they are as young as 6 months old and begin consuming solid foods. It can start with a simple refusal to eat something, or be cuddled and tickled to setting boundaries and asserting one’s choice. The reaction to the word ‘no’ from a child is usually met with criticism or simply ignored. By breaking their boundaries, parents and relatives without even realising, begin to corrode the efficacy of consent, says Swati, whose Instagram page, @mayas_amma has more than 300,000 followers today.
She explains, “Sometime ago, I happened to bump into a person who follows me on Instagram. I was with my daughter Maya at the time, and after a casual conversation about my work, the person shifted her focus to Maya and began to address her as ‘Mayu’. At that moment, my 7-year-old suddenly stopped her and said that only her family can address her by this nickname. At first, I was quite taken aback and embarrassed. I even thought she was being rude. But then I realised that she said nothing wrong. She was simply setting up boundaries and asserting her choice. That was the first time I saw her exercise her right to consent and that made me very proud.”
‘Breasts are, just Breasts’
Swati is a trained lactation counsellor and sex educator motivated towards normalising conversations around several tabooed issues like, sexuality, body, mental health, relationships, etc. Through Instagram posts, stories as well as workshops on anatomy, sex education and lactation, she is helping young people and parents create a wholesome and progressive generation.
However, a few years ago, the 34-year-old had never imagined she could amass this level of reach and impact. It all started in 2014 when Maya was born. With the good news of motherhood, Swati also suffered the loss of both her parents. A young mother looking for support and guidance, she reached out to several parenting groups on social media and was finally able to connect with a peer-to-peer support network of mothers in Coimbatore where they discussed a myriad of relevant topics from diapers, sleep schedules, baby carriers to breastfeeding and more.
“During the sessions, I would often breastfeed Maya and talk about the unnecessary taboo around the act. Slowly people began to ask more questions and the dialogues led me to realise the amount of misconceptions existing about the female anatomy, overt sexualisation of breasts and many other issues. That was when I decided to do a lactation counselling course online and began to work in a hospital,” says Swati, who became Coimbatore’s first lactation counsellor.
But fighting social taboos and over-sexualisation of breasts by speaking to only mothers was not the final solution, only a small part of it. Over time she realised that breastfeeding awareness sessions or even breast cancer awareness conducted in colleges is mostly limited to a female audience. This is a parenting issue that requires open conversation by all, irrespective of their genders.
So, in 2015, Swati along with a team of mothers from the peer-to-peer support group began to reach out to colleges to conduct awareness programmes for the youth. By 2016, this team evolved into a full-fledged organisation called the Coimbatore Parenting Network (CPN), which focuses on promoting awareness about postpartum depression, correct breastfeeding techniques and the existence of breastmilk banks.
In addition to the ground work, Swati was simultaneously putting up informative posts on Facebook and contemplating on exploring Instagram, as it has substantial prominence among the youth. In 2017, she finally started her Instagram page to educate and engage people in conversation about topics that are usually hushed.
Speaking the unspoken
In the meantime, she also did a course to become a certified sex educator to be able to address holistically these issues, both online and offline. “Although my journey started as a lactation counsellor, it actively involved guiding parents about several other issues. Sex education is intrinsically linked to all of that. It doesn’t have to be just about the sexual act. Sex education encompasses a lot more,” she says.
In 2018, news about an unfortunate incident, triggered Swati to begin to focus more on sex education.
“I had read about the incident of sexual assault and extortion of 200 girls in Pollachi, Tamil Nadu. In the next few days, social media was rife with debates about the same, with many slut shaming the girls. Several people even stated that exposure to social media was the cause of this problem. I disagree. The problem is not social media but the mentality and inaccurate or inappropriate sex education. A lot of problems we see today in society and in our lives, can be avoided if parents begin to have open conversations with their children, especially in terms of sex education and that is why I decided to elaborate on this through my platform. On Instagram, I preach what I practice at home with my own daughter,” says Swati.
She adds that although it’s never too late to start these conversations, it is ideal to begin young. The idea is to normalise these conversations and create an open space for dialogue.
“Sex education is not always about sex. It can start with consent and dispelling the idea that a baby must always obey. Parents cannot expect to have an open conversation with their children and become their ‘friends’ when the child is 10 or 12 years old, if they have hushed conversations about body, anatomy, consent, gender-identity, etc, in the formative years. You don’t need to lecture your child about these issues but normalise it.” She asserts, “Children are extremely attentive and constantly watching their parents and trying to imitate them.”
While her online content has an audience from a wide spectrum of ages, her offline sessions are mostly focused on parents. This demarcation, she says, is a conscious decision.
“As a parent, you are and should be their primary source of information and guidance. While I can speak about these issues online, personally, I want to empower parents to become sex-educators for their children. This will not only help parents ensure that the kids get the correct information but also facilitate in strengthening their bond,” adds Swati.
Through her content, Swati has grown to become an inspiring crusader of sexual and mental health and hopes to create a positive and inclusive world where many Mayas can grow and thrive.
This story has all the makings of a war drama — a king, a mistress, a slave, a revolution, loyalty, and ultimately, betrayal. But, at its centre is a young Indian boy, taken from his birthplace when he was all but 11 years old, never expecting a future role in one of the most significant events of European history — the French Revolution.
The aforementioned mistress was Jeanne Bécu, Comtesse du Barry, or Madame du Barry, who was ‘gifted’ a young slave by King Louis XV of France. This boy was to be her page, but the countess developed a strong liking for him instead and educated him. This education would inspire ideals in him that would ultimately lead to the countess’ doom. But before we get to that, who was this young boy?
Presumed portrait of Zamor painted by a member of the Van Loo family (Source: Wikipedia)
‘The object of my regard.’
In France, Zamor was baptised and christened as ‘Louis-Benoit’. But his birthplace lay halfway across the world in Chittagong, Bengal (now in Bangladesh). It is speculated that he may have been of Siddhi origin.
He later told people he was born in the Bengal Sabah of the Mughal Empire and that when he was around 11 years old, he was kidnapped by British slave traders and taken to Europe.
Eventually, Zamor was taken to France via Madagascar and sold to King Louis XV as a ‘slave’. The king handed him over to Madame du Barry, a royal mistress at the time – probably around 1769.
The countess’s own story is nothing short of a period film — she was the illegitimate daughter of a French seamstress and a friar, who rose through the ranks with her beauty and caught the king’s attention. She was famed for her golden locks, bright blue eyes and snow-white skin.
Before she found herself living a lavish life on the floor right above the king’s quarters in the magnificent Palace of Versailles, she was a poor woman who struggled to make ends meet – and was the lover of many rich men (including the king’s courtiers). Regardless, her fortunes changed around the age of 25, when the king (who was around 58) took a fancy to her.
As for Zamor, she seems to have taken him up as a pet project. Jeanne dressed Zamor up in elegant clothing, kept him by her side at all times, and showed him off, the way one would a pet.
In her memoir, she wrote that her first love and priority was Dorine, her dog, who “sipped her coffee daily from a golden saucer, and Zamor (who seems to have disliked Dorine) was appointed her cupbearer”.
A portrait of Madame du Barry, with Zamor present on the left corner (Wikipedia)
Zamor was the “second object of [her] regard”. She called him a ‘young African boy’. Madame du Barry believed all her life that he was African, but this was nothing abnormal at the time. The true origins of persons of colour were not of importance in the mid-to-late-18th century French.
Zamor was said to be “full of intelligence and mischief” and “independent in his nature, yet wild as his country” (she was entirely wrong about which country that was, though).
This is not to say that their relationship was positive— Zamor was viewed as a “young urchin” who performed “monkey feats” that she often looked upon as a source of her amusement.
The racism Zamor was subject to was not just benevolent. In the courts, he was often humiliated and ridiculed and raised as more or less a toy or “plaything” for the countess. So he found solace in his thirst for knowledge and turned to texts written by philosophers, particularly those by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. But, at some point, Zamor also began to detest the countess and her lavish lifestyle.
In her memoir, Madame du Barry had written that Zamor considered himself an equal of whoever he met, so much so that he rarely acknowledged that even the king himself was his superior. This simple description proved to be a foreshadowing of sorts. A quiet storm brewed in Zamor’s mind – a feeling of indignation that he kept to himself.
By 1789, Zamor was a grown man, and the fortunes of Jeanne had changed quite a bit. King Louis XV died in 1774, and Madame du Barry was promptly shipped off to a convent. She eventually purchased an estate and lived a quiet life there, having the occasional affair with other noblemen. Zamor remained in her service.
The rule of King Louis XVI was ongoing, and Marie Antoinette was all the rage. And the French Revolution was around the corner.
By then, Zamor, alongside another member of the Madame’s staff, joined the Société des Jacobins, amis de la liberté et de l’égalité, or, Society of the Jacobins, Friends of Freedom and Equality. Zamor was eventually inducted into the Committee of Public Safety and later, the Revolutionary Surveillance Committee.
The Jacobins helmed the infamous ‘Reign of Terror’, alongside launching stringent measures like price control and food seizures.
A depiction of the infamous Reign of Terror (Source)
‘…Born in Bengal, India’
Several affluent people in France (who were most likely to lose their heads should the worst happen) fled to other countries when the revolution began, with many settling in Great Britain. They were known as the émigrés and were declared enemies of the revolution.
Perhaps England was the eventual plan of Madame du Barry as well, who began visiting England frequently under the pretext of retrieving lost jewellery. Zamor warned her about this alliance with the aristocrats (she could have rightfully claimed to have no noble blood at all). But the page’s warnings fell on deaf ears.
He was, in any case, plotting to have her arrested, which he managed to do for a short while. She discovered who her denouncer was and had Zamor promptly fired from her service when she got out.
Zamor decided to take things to the next level. During her return from one particular trip to England, Zamor had Madame du Barry arrested on suspicion of financially assisting the émigrés.
He testified against her in the revolutionary tribunal. At the trial, he signed his birthplace as Chittagong — “Louis-Benoit Zamor, né au Bengale, dans l’Inde…[Louis-Benoit Zamor, born in Bengal, in India…]”
His role in her arrest led to her being condemned to death. The countess attempted to save herself by revealing the location of jewels she had hidden, but in vain.
On 8 December 1793, at the age of 50, Madame du Barry was beheaded by the guillotine. Her last words are said to be, “De grâce, monsieur le bourreau, encore un petit moment! (“One more moment, Mr Executioner, I beg you!”). She became one of the thousands executed during the Reign of Terror, including Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.
What, then, comes of the young Indian boy who had played a small yet significant role in the most defining event in French history?
Zamor was briefly arrested by the Girondins on suspicion of being an accomplice to the countess. However, when they searched his home, all they found were books and paintings of famous French revolutionaries. As a result, he was released after six weeks in prison and fled from France almost immediately.
We know little about him after that, except that he returned to Paris after the fall of Napoleon in 1815 and spent his remaining days as a school teacher, minus the luxury and wealth that he had unwittingly found himself in the midst of as a child.
He died sometime in the 1820s, nearly penniless, and was buried in an unmarked grave in Paris.
Zamor is hailed as a “traitor of du Barry” among the few who remember his existence and contributions. However, as is the case with most persons of colour who find themselves part of societies that care little for their wellbeing, Zamor’s role faded into obscurity, not just in the present day, but even immediately after the revolution, he devoted his life to.
Peers in school, both Tarusha Mittal and Mohit Madan had always talked about starting a venture together that could potentially impact the masses in a positive way. In the years to come, they forked in different educational directions with Tarusha taking up humanities while Mohit pursued technology.
However, in 2009, Tarusha’s career path took a turn when she found her calling in deep tech and started a data centre company along with Mohit. Within six months of its inception, they managed to break even, and thus started their entrepreneurial journey in the blockchain industry.
“Around two years ago, Mohit and I were working on a new venture, a crypto trading platform called Ethx when we began to brainstorm about an alternate investment platform to tackle the market which had become so volatile due to inflation,” begins 30-year-old Tarusha, who is a leading deep-tech entrepreneur in the India blockchain industry today.
Mohit adds that this was a time when the country witnessed two major financial debacles involving the PMC Bank and Yes Bank.
“At the time we saw a lot of banks failing and realised the level of impact it has on ordinary people. Thousands of people were losing their life savings in a matter of days. This triggered us to deliberate on alternate ideas that ensure that their hard earned capital is protected. This was the seed of OroPocket,” he says.
Their shared interest to create a ‘decentralised ecosystem’ that could benefit a larger society was what gave birth to OroPocket. They realised they could help people invest without having their capital gains impacted by inflation.
Seeing how gold and silver have historically always been highly coveted assets that also safeguard people against unstable markets and inflation, the Delhi-based entrepreneurs launched their fintech startup as a solution.
“In the traditional financial system, there is too much autonomy with the banks who are yet not evolving as fast as they should. We wanted to find a solution and give back financial freedom to the people,” says Tarusha.
How does it work?
Avoiding the upkeep, safety and storage challenges of buying physical gold, OroPocket is a one-stop shop to invest in digital precious metals like gold and silver. It acts as a safe hedge against inflation and utilises these investments for day-to-day expenses via UPI and asset-backed cards. The founders believe that investment in digital gold and silver is a viable way to tackle the unpredictable and volatile market that has been considerably impacted by the pandemic.
Started back in 2017, the two deep-tech entrepreneurs have introduced India to the massive potential of digital assets, giving back the power of financial autonomy to the people.
“With OroPocket people can keep their capital in gold and silver, both of which are known to beat inflation historically. The digital gold is held by a custodian with a trustee, so that even in any worst-case scenario, the gold is still owned by the end-user and the insurer will make sure that the user gets its value,” claims Mohit, who has also worked as an ethical-hacker.
Through the platform, they aim to enable users to diversify their portfolio beyond traditional assets by investing in multiple digital assets and using them as real money, in real-time.
Apart from tokenization of assets, OroPocket also offers add-on services like asset-backed debit cards, instant loans and remittances. Using these add-ons allows users to utilise the digital assets like real money, for instance, the debit cards can be used to shop both online and offline, as well as withdraw cash from ATMs.
A solution for the future
Today, with a user base of over 8,000 people, OroPocket is audited by IDBI Bank. It has also collaborated with several Brinks vaults for storage and safety of these assets.
“We all know that the value of any currency won’t be the same 10 years down the line. Additionally, during COVID, a lot of different kinds of capital have been introduced in the market and what that does to people is that the money in the banks or wallets starts decreasing in value. That is also something we are trying to fight against by preserving the capital of the end user,” says Mohit, who adds that a professional vulnerability limiting the entrepreneurs from scaling up Ethx also influenced the duo to start OroPocket.
To access OroPocket, users can either go to the website or download the app on android or IOS. This is followed by a simple log-in process and KYC verification. The moment the verification is complete, users get a free 1 mg digital gold as joining bonus. They can then proceed to purchase digital gold on the platform or use UPI for online shopping providing them 100 per cent liquidity of their assets.
“With other platforms you can just buy digital gold. For us, it’s also about making sure you enjoy 100 per cent liquidity on that investment. So more than an investment platform OroPocket is a money app that allows users to store their wealth as digital assets and utilise them in real-time. You can either shop using it, withdraw money or even send money to someone in an instant,” Mohit says, adding, “All of these transactions are mapped through blockchain to ensure complete transparency.”
A Domino effect
With this model in place, OroPocket has the power to impact thousands. This year the duo decided to take a step forward towards cultivating social impact beyond the usual route.
“We believe that impact is never created in isolation. It’s an outcome of a collective force generated with a positive goal and this year the goal is to celebrate the unsung heroes of India,” says Mohit.
As the catalysts of positive impact, this Independence Day, OroPocket has come together with The Better India, in association with the Veer Nari Shakti Foundation, to celebrate the courage and sacrifice of Veer Naris or army wives, who have been a constant support and backbone for army personnel risking their lives to safeguard citizens.
As a tribute to their spirit, under this campaign called ‘Salaam Veer Nari’, OroPocket is encouraging the entire nation to come forward with their support and donate to the Army Wives Fund with just a single click. All one needs to do to pledge their support for the OroPocket Independence Day Initiative is download their mobile application. For every single download, while the user is going to receive 1 mg digital gold in their OroPocket wallet, the company will also contribute 1 mg digital gold into the Army Wives Fund. Download here.
