Hri Institute for Southasian Research and Exchange

Diary of a disastrous campaign

21 December 2012

By Thomas Bell
A recently unearthed diary brings a fresh perspective to the lesser-known British foray into what we now call Nepal.

The history of the British East India Company was mostly written by the Company itself. It emphasises military victories, such as the late-eighteenth-century campaigns against the Marathas or the Kingdom of Mysore; and it dwells on episodes of heroism and tragedy which serve to expose the perfidy of the natives (the ‘Black Hole of Calcutta’). Although they are now seen in a different light, such events still mark the way. There is little space in the story for Captain Kinloch’s invasion of Nepal. Yet, in his failure, Kinloch helped to draw the map of contemporary Southasia no less than his luckier colleagues in the Deccan.

Nepali historians have dwelt on the historic destiny of Prithvi Narayan Shah the Great, who in the mid eighteenth century forged the Gorkhali empire in the hills as a bulwark against the firingis in the plains. His patriotism was so great, he defended Nepali independence before it was invented. These historians record that Kinloch’s expedition was routed by the Gorkhali army at Sindhuli – the first of several occasions when Gorkha courage or nationalism kept the overbearing power to the south at bay. His defeat has been treated as inevitable, and significant mainly in entrenching the Gorkhalis’ abiding suspicion of the British.

Kinloch’s own diary of his disastrous campaign was – until recently – scarcely known to exist, and its publication is provocative and fascinating. It demands that earlier analyses of the invasion be substantially revised. And it invites us to reflect how national destiny, or the fortune of an imperial adventurer, rests on such factors as the antics of an unreliable grain merchant during the interminable monsoon of 1767.

Read more at Himalmag.com

Text: Chintan Girish Modi
Photo credits: Virginia Rodrigues

Abhishek Majumdar’s ‘Afterlife of Birds’ travelled to Prithvi Theatre, Mumbai this December and received a hearty applause. The play, which touched many a local chord, was crafted from interviews of parents of young Muslim boys in Delhi’s Jamia Nagar accused of involvement in terror attacks and testimonies of women who were associated with the movement for a Tamil homeland led by the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) before they sought asylum in London.

Given our interest in archival work and oral histories, we were interested in learning more about the research process that went into devising this play written and directed by Bangalore-based Majumdar. The research process from 2010 to 2012 was supported by the Robert Bosch Arts Grant, and the play was presented under the aegis of Indian Ensemble, a prolific theatre group in Bangalore that brings together young theatrewallahs and seasoned stalwarts.
Majumdar shares that the initial proposal was about migration of women within the country, from small towns to big cities. “This migration was not by choice. The women had to move because their men were moving. The men automatically found a new world because of their new context of work but the women had to create their own new worlds as they moved with their men. When I came across stories about women in the LTTE, I was struck by the idea that these women were migrating out of their own choice,” he says.

Text by Chintan Girish Modi
Image: flickr / Indianature11

A collection of about 100 hours of video footage which includes stories by the traditional healer who plays the ghagli (an instrument made out of a local gourd), the thalawala, who produces hypnotic music with a string stuck to a plate while reciting stories and folklore: these vibrant narratives are being gathered just a couple of hours out of Mumbai.

At a workshop organised by the Tamarind Tree, an NGO in Dahanu, Maharashtra initiated by group of media and development professionals, and the Centre for Social Studies (Surat, Gujarat) the learnings from LORE, their community-driven oral history project were discussed. Titled ‘Building a Community Archive: Social and Technological Challenges in Collection, Storage and Dissemination’, the workshop was hosted at the Tamarind Tree farm in Sogve Village, Dahanu and brought together professionals from the fields of sociology, filmmaking, archiving, education and open source technology.

The LORE project which began in April 2009, aimed to collect, preserve and present the oral narratives of the Warli and Kokna Adivasis in Dahanu as they see themselves in a contemporary context. By mid-October 2012, the project was at a stage where the core team was engaged in reflective thought processes, which were shared at the workshop.

Warli Painting

What is collected?

In the initial phase of the project, songs, dances, rituals and folklore were recorded, but later the focus was on interviewing people and collecting life stories or narratives around important historical events that have a bearing on the lives of local Adivasi communities. Some of the broad themes that appear in the collected material are the wrath of nature; fear of moneylenders and Parsi landlords; power of divine spirits and contemporary social and political observations.

Satyakam of Centre for Social Studies (CSS), who was present at the conference, brought up the concern that context assumes a centrality in the process of collection. He wanted to know how the project grapples with the question of ‘What to capture, what not to?’ In response, Hemant of Nomad India Network said, “Ours is not a documentary film project. When we have people handling a camera and shooting, filmmakers come and ask, ‘What is the output?’ We are not here to make a film on the Warlis as a theme. We would like to do this as an archival exercise; we don’t do selection. However, if a filmmaker wants to use this material and make a film, we will be happy to share it.”

Added Michelle Chawla, founder and managing trustee at Tamarind Tree, “We want to interview old people of the community and record their life stories. Some important themes have already come, particularly regarding forced labour on rice plantations. These interviews led us to refine our questions. We decided to move from collecting folklore to collecting oral history.”

The thematic areas for the oral history work include agriculture, indebtedness, bondage, exploitation, family accounts, fodder, forests, wood, etc. They have also started working on one event-based historical research—the Warli Revolt of 1945-46 in parents. Michelle said, “We met people whose parents were part of the revolt. Some of them took us to villages where the firing had happened.”

How do they decide whom to interview? The interviewers, trained by Tamarind Tree to be collectors of oral history, make a list of people who hold key positions in the villages, older people, and people who might have stories to share, for example  midwives. At the workshop, it was suggested that the project could begin to access government or district archives to know about key events in Dahanu. People could be identified accordingly and interviewed about these events. The scholars from CSS also suggested that the project needs to perhaps engage the services of a researcher to interview the interviewers after they conduct the interview. This would give further depth to the archive.

Why is it collected?

The “why” of oral history generated an intense discussion. Hemant pointed out that oral historiography has its own methodology. “You cannot shove the camera in front of the respondent’s face. You have to bring it out when there is a comfort level. One of the things in the respondent’s mind is ‘What is the motive? Why does this person want to know about my past?’”

Professor Eddie Rodrigues from the Sociology Department at Mumbai University, who was also present at the workshop said, “Orality is also marked with intent. People remember what they remember with an intent. People who do oral history are people who use memory to uncover the intent. It is a terrifically difficult exercise.”

Vivek, a Professor from Mumbai University another participant pointed out that Tamarind Tree was framing the oral history project as a “Warli project”, and not as a “Dahanu project”, revealing the intent behind the project. Concurring, Michelle said, “Yes, it is meant to be a Warli project. The Parsi history of this area is recorded but no history of the Warli community is recorded from their own perspective. It is mostly oral.”

Probing further into this aspect, Satyakam said that Tamarind Tree is going with the assumption that they will find stories of exploitation and dissent.

Michelle readily agreed.  “There has been discontent and resistance in this area but it has not been documented. Also, let’s bear in mind that a project like this grows organically. Initially, we were collecting only purely from a posterity point of view. We also want to ask the question: Can we break away from the normal ways of collecting information, using technology, and working with people from the community?” This question has been very important to their research process.

Illustrating the raison d’etre of the oral history project, Michelle said, “The project has captured current agricultural processes like “rab” (slash and burn) and is attempting to demystify this technique, since this practice has led to considerable exploitation by the forest department and increasing prejudice by environmentalists, who claim that these practices are destroying the forests. It is here that we hope to gain an understanding of the identity and self-perception of the Warlis and Koknas and how they position themselves both with regard to their natural environment and how they react to the encroachment of their social and physical space by outsiders.”

Who collects and how?

Initially, only Vinit and Michelle shot the footage but the team later expanded. Since LORE aims to be a community-driven digital archive, Tamarind Tree encourages the community to be actively involved in the process of oral history collection, and not only in its consumption. With a small grant from the Ratan Tata Trust, they were able to recruit a small team of Adivasi youth and train them in using a digital camera for filming interviews. These field workers were sent out into the Adivasi talukas of Dahanu to collect stories, myths, legends, rituals, beliefs and practices of the Warlis and Koknas.

Vanita, one of these young researchers present at the workshop, said, “We got to learn a lot by being part of the oral history project. It feels good to be involved in a project that will help the new generation learn about the past of their community.” Another researcher, Anil, added, “When we go out to interview people, we speak to them in their own language. This helps them open up to us. If somebody else had gone, they might have been a bit scared, perhaps reluctant to talk.”

Swati Das, a filmmaker who participated in the workshop, said, “The camera is a powerful tool. You may not edit but the person speaking may edit out before sharing. They know that since it is being recorded on camera, it will reach other people. If you go without a camera or a notebook, they might come out with more.”

Vinit who initially began recording the interviews with Michelle added, “I would like to share an example of one person who initially did not allow us to shoot him on camera. We put the camera aside and just began talking to him. He was from another village. He did not know us, and building trust took some time. Later he realised that we were genuine people, so he allowed us.”

Vinit clarified that they recorded most of the interviews either in the house of the person being interviewed or on the Tamarind Tree farm. He said, “When we go equipped with too much equipment, they are a bit hesitant/reluctant to talk. A lot of our recordings have been done at night when it is quiet around the house.”

Text by Sarita Manu
Images courtesy: Sarita Manu and Zakaria Zainal

Our Gurkhas the exhibition in Kathmandu

Our Gurkhas is an anthology of portraits and anecdotes of the retired Singapore Gurkhas as they reminisce about life in the Lion City — from the 50s till today. The exhibition travelled to Kathmandu, Pokhara and Dharan earlier this month. At the Kathmandu exhibition, I found Zakaria Zainal, the young photographer from Singapore, engaged in an animated conversation with a few women. I could not help but notice that the older woman in the group spoke impeccable English, while the younger one did not. After waiting long for my turn to speak to Zainal, I mentioned this to him. He added, “I was fascinated at how good her English is. When I did this project, I felt that I wish I had known Nepali language, my interviews would have been richer.” He added that the older woman grew up in Singapore, learning and speaking more English than her younger sister who grew up in Nepal.

The Gurkha units, famous for their loyalty, bravery and valour, are well known regiments in the British and Indian armies.  Following the independence of India, a Gurkhas contingent was formed in Singapore in 1949, with the ex-British Army Gurkhas. Very little is known about these Gurkhas, men from Nepal, who serve in the Gurkha Contingent of the Singapore Police Force. Established in 1949, the legacy of the Gurkha Contingent goes beyond the independence of Singapore. In the year preceding Singapore’s independence, the Gurkhas played a very important role in what was known as the 1964 ‘racial riots’, a significant chapter in Singapore’s history. The Gurkha were seen as an impartial force that would not side with the Malay or Chinese ethnic groups who were involved in the riots. Zainal feels that this incident left a permanent mark on official policies. As a community, the Gurkha and their families lead their own lives in a segregated neighbourhood, and deliberately so, – because they are wanted as an impartial force even today, in case of tension between the main ethnic groups. This quarter is the Mount Vernon Camp, a neighbourhood that houses the training and residential facilities for the Gurkha contingent.

The literature on Gurkha and the number of articles written on them are few, given their more than 60 years of history in Singapore.  ‘There is an overwhelming sense of aura alongside a vacuum of information about this community,’ says Zainal. ‘And how we fill up that vacuum is by amusing ourselves with tales of how they can jump off a high wall, rip someone’s head off with their bare hands,’ he adds. Zainal wanted to challenge this, knowing that the Gurkha were regular people like other Singaporeans. He was wondering how to get others to know more about them. Zainal says, ‘I wanted this to resonate with other Singaporeans – that the Gurkha are just like them. I believe photography is a process of commemoration and I photograph to remember. I am very worried that if I don’t photograph these people, they will be forgotten forever.’ Zainal took time to conceptualise this – an anthology of portraits and short stories, which serve as an important visual archive of a visibly invisible community. The stories accompanying the portraits are much understated and this was intentional as Zainal wants people to say, ‘Is that it? I want to know more’.

Book Cover (left) , Photographer Zakaria Zainal (right)

Talking about his experience of connecting with the community through these three exhibitions, Zainal says, ‘In this photographic exhibition, sometimes, the main draw was not the photographs but the community itself — as they took this opportunity to bond and reminisce their shared experiences in a country vastly different from theirs. And this connection ranged from old retired Gurkhas from the 1950s and 1950s mingling with just retired Gurkhas from the 2000s, the wives and children too from various generations. At the same time, they also invited the Nepali public and gave them a glimpse of what life was like during their time of service — not through photographs, but the stories that they told. I am humbled by the overwhelming support shown by the retired Singapore Gurkhas and their immediate community — as well as the Nepali public in attending and giving support and feedback to this photographic project and exhibition.’

Corporal Nar Bahadur Gurung, 73, 1953 – 1973 (4518). Retired Singapore Gurkha Nar Bahadur Gurung holds a framed photograph of himself when he first arrived in Singapore as a young recruit in 1953.

Zainal also wants to do another project of archiving old photos from inside the Mount Vernon Camp. He strongly feels that in putting too many words alongside the pictures, the message often gets lost. One can do things like this (the exhibition), where the community gathers, fuelling a sense of ownership. Through his photographs, Zainal has brought forth many old memories and also archived them in a way. Zainal humbly maintains that he knows nothing about the quality of photographs, but he believes very strongly in creating work that is accessible to all. He wrote down their stories in his little notebook, and took pictures. First it was only a few and then Zainal realised over time that nearly all Gurkha have really large frames of photographs from their time in Singapore. They say that they are proud of their time in Singapore, and want to frame the pictures. ‘The beauty is – the more I look at it, I realise that these photographs are also a tension between space and time. The Gurkha are younger, in their photographs of Singapore, and now they are old and in Nepal – it creates a visual tension. It is something I could not look at – at first, but I kept looking at it and I discovered something new every time – this perplexes me till today’, adds Zainal.

 

Text:  Sarita Manu
Images Courtesy: Law & Society Trust, Colombo

In their relentless pursuit of a mono ethnic Tamil state in Northern Sri Lanka, the LTTE, in October 1990, evicted close to 70,000 Muslims in the North. At a notice of just two hours, this community was ordered to leave everything behind, and forced to start afresh in camps. It was only when the war ended in 2009 that these families were able to begin returning to their homes in the North.

In Jaffna

An abandoned building, Jaffna

The Law & Society Trust (LST), a not for profit organization engaged in human rights documentation, legal research and advocacy based in Colombo, began to work on a memory project with these families. The Northern Muslims Project is a project of the LST together with three northern Muslim partner organizations where they set up a Citizens’ Commission to investigate this expulsion of Muslims from the Northern Province by the LTTE. The International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ) and Asia Foundation also assisted the project during its various stages.

The Citizens’ Commission consisting of eminent people from all walks of life went to the community over the last one year, listening to people’s stories. These narratives were collected in the form of oral recordings and photographs. The final report was based on the evidence presented in front of the commission and there was very little photographic evidence as few people had pictures about their life pre-eviction. A team was then entrusted with the task of going to these people, family by family, with portable scanners and scanning all available pictures. Old, beautiful photographs of weddings, young children and family portraits emerged. With the release of the final Report, “The Quest for Redemption: The Story of the Northern Muslims”, recommendations were made to the government on restitution and how justice could be provided by the State to these people. This had a very strong impact in raising the visibility of these families, both within their own community and at a larger national level. ‘Each of these families had a story but nobody wanted to listen to them. The entire process had such a redemptive force and the very act of documenting their loss was cathartic for these people,’ says Mala Liyanage, Executive Director of LST.

War and Disappearance

LST intends to do a similar project with victims of the lesser known ‘terror’ (Bheeshanaya)in southern Sri Lanka in the late 1980s. Ordinary people were victimised by the government as well as the insurgents: many were killed and several disappeared. Liyanage adds, ‘More than three decades have passed since, and sometimes people are forced to live side by side with those responsible for the death of their loved ones. These people have had no opportunity to tell their stories.’

From the hearing at Mannar, The Northern Muslims Project

Thousands of people have gone missing during the conflict in the southern Sri Lanka and the Civil War. Nearly 30 years have passed since and families still wait for news on the missing. Liyanage wishes to do a documentary, ‘missing’, on all those who have disappeared. ‘Several of these missing have disappeared involuntarily: arbitrarily arrested or placed in detention. Some in the government probably know what happened to these people,’ says Liyanage. The documentary will be based entirely on the memories of the families of the missing; families waiting endlessly for the loved ones to come back. Children wait for their fathers; mothers wait for their children; wives wait for their husbands and they never stop waiting. This wait is very difficult as there is no way of knowing whether the ones they await are dead or alive: if alive, whether they are in prison or if they are dead, cremated or buried. The families go in search from prison to prison, detention centre to detention centre in the hope of finding some information or finding someone who can tell them what they desperately want to know.

The documentary will focus not only on Tamils from northern Sri Lanka but also on the victims of the insurgency in the south. It is difficult to talk about the suffering of Tamils in the north, without looking at the people who suffered in the south, says Liyanage. The ‘missing’ will cover all of these people. Liyanage comments that this project will be extremely difficult to execute, as it is very complicated to arrive at an exact number of the missing. The official records of such disappearances are arbitrary: they may be recorded as prisoners, or simple as ‘missing’ or even as dead. This is also closely tied with the issue of accountability on part of the government and hence one may never get an official number, feels Liyanage. She wants to have this film only for local consumption, especially for the Sinhala people in the south. Reports tend to be read only by students, lawyers and such but she wishes to reach out to more people through a film. She says, ‘People are unaware of the things that happen around them. All issues that will support reconciliation need to be made known, and this won’t happen as long as the Sinhala people remain uninformed of the issues and suffering of the Tamils.’

Continuing on the theme of the need to educate and inform, she proceeded to introduce me to the invaluable, meticulously preserved records of human rights and policy issues in the island over the past two decades.

Legal Treasure Trove

The LST publishes Sri Lanka: State of Human Rights, which is an annual survey of human rights, drawing contributors from across the human rights community and a monthly magazine, LST review. This monthly, has been in publication for nearly 25 years and is an advocacy tool for parliamentarians, judiciary and activists. A valuable record of significant issues over the last two decades, it is also a medium through which some sensitive issues have been brought out in the open for discussion. Since the LST review has been published for several years it serves as LST’s “business card” especially in the regional advocacy of human rights that Dr. Neelan Tiruchelvam was very interested in. Dr. Neelan, who founded the LST, was one of the pioneers, advocating for national human rights Commission in Sri Lanka.

A file photo of Dr. Neelan T

The archives house some of the documents, letters and papers which he used to express his thoughts before his assassination in 1999. His work related to utilising the law for social change, his pioneering work in public interest litigation and papers from various public discussions he organised in constitution making is also present in the collection, though not organised. On the rare occasion that someone wants to access these documents, they are brought out.

With more than 8500 volumes of books and journals, including a rare collection of legal literature, the Information & Documentation Centre at LST is particularly rich in historical material related to the Sri Lankan legal system. The library room itself is small and cramped due to lack of funds for its expansion but the collection is well-maintained. The lack of digital copies of this marvellous collection has restricted its reach, feels Liyanage. In the future, LST hopes to raise funds for the expansion of the library as well as digitisation of their collection in an extensive database, making it accessible to a wider audience. Even as they are working towards digitisation, the constraint will remain in physically scanning all books and making digital copies, due to lack of training in digitisation and shortage of staff. Some existing staff members have a keen interest in research and documentation and the trust can benefit strongly with the in-house training of such staff.

Through the work in human rights documentation, and memory projects including oral documentation, LST has been able to stitch together stories and pieces of Sri Lankan history that would have been lost otherwise; thus aiding the struggles for human rights.

Images Courtesy: Hri Institute and NayanTara Gurung Kakshapati

BY: HAROON KHALID

Every Sunday, Ahmed Saleem travels to Rawalpindi Sadr, from his house in Islamabad to buy books being sold on the footpath. All the vendors know him by now. Some bring special books for him knowing that he will appreciate them and pay the sellers a good amount. “They don’t keep them for sale. First they show it to me. If I reject [the book], only then do they put it out in the open,” he says. Over the past forty years, Saleem has been following this routine, buying and collecting books for his archive. His focus has been the social sciences, history, archaeology and literature. He now has about ten thousand books in his collection.

Saleem has dedicated the upper portion of his house to his archive. There are several racks here, teeming with books, newspapers, documents and pictures. He lives in a tiny room next to the hall. This is his bedroom, his study, his office, and more. From here he has written over one hundred books, making him one of the most well-known historians of the country. Almost 70 now, he still writes and collects prolifically. “Around 1974 I decided to write a book on the political history of Pakistan. I made a list of all the books that I would need for my research, but sadly there was no library or archive in the country at that time where I could find these books. Some I found from people’s collections, some from libraries, and some from other places. It was a struggle getting them all together. I decided then to make an archive, where researchers and students could come and research easily,” he says. Now his collection is one of the best known private collections of books, newspapers and documents in Pakistan, popular with students and researchers.

Saleem has particularly focused on books that were written and published from pre-Partition India. These books, unlike other books written during the colonial era and published by world renowned publishers, are not available in the libraries of Europe or North America. These were considered too insignificant to be archived at that time. But now, as they have become rare, Saleem’s archive is one of the only places in the world where these books are available. Most of these publishers have ceased to be. The oldest book that he has in his collection is called “Trade with India”. Published in 1711, the text documents Dutch trade with the Indian peninsula. He also has a collection of books written on freedom fighters like G.M. Syed and Abdul Ghaffar Khan, before the creation of Pakistan. He has books, written in regional languages from the pre-Partition era. The collection also includes a compilation of all the sermons delivered by bishops in Lahore.

Photo credit Amarjit Chandan (2009)

“Back in the 70s, cheap books, which are now referred to as chapbooks, were sold on public buses along with eatables. Waris Shah’s Heer was the most popular book at the time, and sold in various regional languages,” Saleem says. These books are no longer sold, as the book-reading trend has nosedived in Pakistan. Once available everywhere, these books have now become a rare commodity. Saleem has been collecting them since then, preserving an entire era and a genre of literature that is now extinct. He has also been collecting newspapers and magazines since 1947; the collection includes some that are even older. “I have a magazine published in 1901 from London, called the Americanization of the World. That magazine predicts how American culture would dominate the world in the next century. How accurate has that prediction been,” he says.

Along with books and magazines, Saleem has been collecting historical documents. He travelled to Peshawar to collect the documents of the Meerut and Peshawar Conspiracy Case of 1922-27, which indicts communist freedom fighters, including Amir Haider, the cousin of the future President of Pakistan, Ayub Khan.

Saleem realizes that his collection is likely to go to waste if not properly managed. Therefore in 2001, connecting a few like-minded people, he established a trust called the South Asian Research and Resource Centre. The trust is currently in the process of cataloguing the collection. About 20% is complete. “I am now relieved that my life’s work will not go to waste after me,” he says.

Text and Images: Sarita Manu

“The leasehold village of Vikhroli Turuf Marole in the Salsette Taluka … within the Bombay Suburban District” — these lines caught my attention immediately. I struggled to remember the last time any suburb of Mumbai (then, Bombay) had been referred to as a village. This was at the exhibition aptly titled, ‘Pirojshangar: Then and Now’, tracing the transformational journey of the village Vikhroli to the Godrej township that it is today.

At the exhibition, a public auction notice released in the year 1940 announced the auction of this leasehold village. The notice was displayed alongside photographs showing a young Pirojshah Godrej inspecting the land.  The land was transferred to Godrej in the late 1940s, and on 4 July 1951, Pirojshah announced the beginning of operations at the first factory building at Vikhroli, comprising a roofed area of 2,33,000 sq ft.

Interestingly, the first production of this plant  was making ‘Ballot Boxes’ for the young and newly independent India’s first general elections between end of 1951 and early 1952. The factory was churning out more than 15,000 ballot boxes in one day. A newspaper article put on show, quoted a Godrej spokesperson mention that if all the boxes (nine inches long) were put on top of each other, they would reach the height of several Mount Everests piled one on top of the other. If placed side by side, they would form a line 200 miles long. It was not hard to imagine that this would have truly been the case, given the number of ballot boxes India would have needed for a countrywide election. An old advertisement of Godrej was also displayed here, proudly featuring the ballot boxes produced at Vikhroli.

As the factory grew, the number of workers at Vikhroli also grew quickly. Always concerned about the welfare of his workers, Pirojshah built worker’s quarters, known as Baithi Chawls, in the complex. Pragati Kendra housed the exhibit today, but its historical role has been more extensive: it is a welfare centre especially for women and children, and Udayachal, a school for the worker’s children, were built soon thereafter. Mrs. Alooben Mowdawalla, the first Welfare Officer at Godrej Pragati Kendra, was instrumental in setting up the Pragati Kendra. Extracts of interviews with her and residents of the Baithi Chawls were present in the form of audio recordings at the exhibition.

The documents, photographs, structural drawings, press clippings, old advertisements and audio-visual material were only a part of the rich collection of the Godrej Archives, but they provided a great insight in to the story of Godrej, the development of the township and its green cover, and the lives of workers lives within the complex. In doing so, they showcased some of the ways in which India’s social changes have been closely tied to Indian industry.

Text and Images by: Haroon Khalid

Sitting behind a desk, Arif Jafri plays with his flute as he talks about his music archive. Jafri is a classically trained musician who has been playing the flute for the past forty years. Now he is heading the program for National Intangible Heritage Archives in collaboration with UNESCO, a project which aims to digitize all music composed from Pakistan to date. There is no doubt that music is Jafri’s first love. There is no other person better suited for this project. His recently published book, Who’s Who in Pakistan’s World of Music, is placed next to the flute. This is an encyclopedia of all musicians, singers and music collectors from the country, and includes their current contact information. His office walls present a history of music in the Indian peninsula, introducing one to the concept of gharanas (families), the different gharanas and their family trees. This is a record spanning over seven centuries in some cases, summed up in a few pages. There are pictures of famous people from particular gharans next to the family trees. In the middle of two gharans, Jafri has pinned up black, round records, which were used to play music before the advent of cassettes. A rack near the entrance has a collection of cassettes. Another one next to his seat has newspapers cuttings about famous musicians and singers. It is, in short, an office dedicated to music, and housed within the building of the Pakistan National Council of Arts, a government institute, built in the 1970s to promote arts in the country.

Part of Arif Jafri’s collection of texts on music	Records from Jafri’s collection	The wall of history: gharanas over time

“We have about 4000 hours of music,” he tells me, as he takes out a thick book from under his desk and places it on the table. “This catalogue contains information about everything we have,” he says. It is a photocopied book, which begins with a description of what musical gharanas are. A page has been dedicated to each collection, and includes the name of the artist, gharana, record duration, songs, and production details, and also the form in which the original collection is available. Their collection, which is available in records, cassettes, and now CDs, is currently being transferred into CDs with golden-plated surfaces. This master copy is guaranteed to live for more than 100 years. Jafri points at three pages pinned up behind his chair. Guidelines to Cataloguing it reads. “These are international standards that we follow,” he says. “Any music, song ever produced in Pakistan is with us,” he says.

This is a project currently sponsored by UNESCO. The total duration of the grant is three years. 

Text and images: Chintan Girish Modi

The welcome sign

On a recent trip to Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, I came across a gem of a place called the Desert Cultural Centre, run by Nand Kishore Sharma. I also had the opportunity to meet him, the author-teacher-historian who set up this amazingly well-resourced centre near Gadisar Lake in 1997, years after he founded the Jaisalmer Folklore Museum in 1984. At 77, Sharma is pursuing quite passionately the love of his life – documenting and celebrating the history of Jaisalmer. Although I landed at his doorstep unannounced, he was happy to spend time answering my queries.

What can one find at the Desert Cultural Centre? Old photographs, maps, manuscripts, paintings, musical instruments, puppets, local costumes, coins, camel ornaments — and much more. A catalogue of these materials is available for purchase. The entire collection has been put together largely through Sharma’s own efforts. He has written several books on Jaisalmer, many of which have been translated into other languages with the help of scholars and researchers who have visited him.

The entrance to the Desert Cultural Centre

Apart from serving the interests of tourists and academics, Sharma feels that it is very important to generate curiosity and interest among the local population of Jaisalmer, especially youngsters who are not too aware of their heritage. He regularly organizes puppet shows and cultural festivals, writes columns for newspapers and radio plays, and offers translation assistance in order to share his expertise and to bring in revenue to cover administrative costs.

Along with the satisfaction and pride I hear in his voice when he talks about his work, I also encounter disappointment. He says, “There are many who can come and donate money but it is very difficult to find committed people to come and work here. A lot of interest and dedication is needed to do this kind of work. What if I get some person who sells off the original things and replaces them with duplicates?” He is afraid that much of what he has to share will not last beyond him. “I have trained my son. He will able to show the museum to visitors. But the inscriptions I can read, what I can explain, my understanding of history and culture – where will that come from?”

District map of Jaisalmer that is part of the collection

Sharma’s passion for his work is inspiring. It is perhaps best described in a piece titled ‘Behind the Scenes’, written by Ratna Rao Shekar in the Nov.–Dec. 2003 issue of House Calls. I came across this in a compilation I picked up at the centre – A Single Man’s Imagination: Folklore Museum and Desert Cultural Centre Jaisalmer – History and Introduction.

Shekar writes, “Meeting Sharma is a moving experience, for we learn that this simple schoolmaster has walked and bicycled around villages in the district of Jaisalmer, assimilating its history and collecting artifacts that he has paid for with his meagre schoolmaster’s salary. He has written 40 books in Hindi and English, as he believes his knowledge of English is inadequate to say all that he wants to about Jaisalmer.”

Shekar adds, “Meeting him and witnessing his zeal I am convinced that it is the small Indian who will teach us how to be big. It is not corporations and institutions hankering for their share of publicity when they fund the restoration of a monument that will keep the architectural heritage of this country alive. Anonymous Indians like Sharma will. And there are many like him working in the remote corners of this country, even if we’ve never heard of them.”

We at the Hri Institute for Southasian Research and Exchange celebrate the initiative and ingenuity of people like Sharma all over the world, and our Archives project hopes to bring many such stories to the fore.

Nand Kishore Sharma

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