There’s a freeze frame from an old English classic I’d like to bring up before you – it’s that of Miss Havisham from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. A bride jilted at the altar is found for the rest of her years to be stuck in time, wearing her wedding dress forever since then, trapped in a freeze-frame when her world came crashing down. The BBC’s two-part documentary on Prime Minister Narendra Modi had the same effect on me. I felt as if I was looking at that bride in old lace and white net, out of sync with time. I will explain.The documentary was sold in advance to an expected subversive audience like myself as a pathbreaking investigation that would bring to light new information and show us something we had not seen before. It also had a glittering cast of characters from the liberal left – people I have always and will always admire and hold up as my heroes. Arundhati Roy, the writer who has never minced her words. Aakar Patel, the activist and India chair of Amnesty International, fighting the good fight relentlessly. Siddharth Vardarajan, one of my favourite journalists and the founder of one of the last standing independent press spaces. As also Hartosh Bal of The Caravan. And Christophe Jaffrelot, one of the best-known academics researching and writing profusely on the Hindu right. I could go on. Despite having interviewed the best voices and people who are still unafraid to say what they think, the BBC stitched them together in a way that said nothing new and is therefore guilty of painting a tired, wan picture of the same facts regurgitated in the same way. This allows the regime in power to use the films for one more round of propaganda – painting themselves as victims and using the critique from the left to serve their own saffron end. The BBC in effect took India’s best activists, writers and journalists who are pulsating, alive and dynamic and clipped them together into flat, repetitive tropes that make them look as if they’re standing still. In short, the BBC has Miss Havisham’d the picture and done damage where it may have intended to do good.<img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/BBC_Modi_Documentary_768x432_1_c13d8d1109.jpg" alt="BBC-Modi-Documentary-768x432 (1).jpg">Take Part One for instance. The film goes back to Modi as Chief Minister of Gujarat and the pogrom against Muslims in the year 2002. The build-up of ominous music leads to a dark computer screen and supposedly big reveal – a now de-classified diplomatic cable where a British diplomat made the assessment that Modi was responsible for the violence against Muslims and asked the police to stand back and let the mob do its thing. By producing no fresh evidence to back this claim except for the opinion of a retired diplomat and former British Foreign Secretary Jack Straw, the BBC allows the BJP and its spokespersons in India to have a field day, asking legitimately that why the voices of retired diplomats from 20 years ago should be the voice of God and whether it is not a case of arrogance on the part of the BBC? If, instead, the BBC had used the diplomatic cables to show how Britain and Europe that had blamed Modi for the bloodletting let him off the hook just five years later, they would have put a fresh spin on the story. Calling out Britain’s duplicity would have held up a dark mirror but the BBC didn’t go that far.Godhra – Unanswered QuestionsFurther, while on the subject of the violence in 2002, the BJP has always called out the liberal press from India and abroad to say that not enough play was ever given to the genesis of the violence – the burning down of a train compartment the day before the pogrom, in which 59 Hindu kar sevaks from the VHP were burnt to cinders. The BBC could have actually done some grunt work on this, which could have raised some difficult questions for the BJP. First, the 59 kar sevaks were travelling ticketless in the train that caught fire. There were many that had bought tickets and got out alive. What did they see? Why are their accounts buried? If indeed Muslims had set the bogey on fire, there should be no fear in calling them out. Why the silence?<img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/godra_1_dac4ccc8d3.jpeg" alt="godra (1).jpeg"> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Godhra train burningFurther discomfort could have been brought by sharp-focusing on the train bogey that burnt. One investigation into the burning was carried out by the BJP- led government of the day and the other, a few years later, by the opposition leader Lalu Yadav when he was Railway Minister. Both are therefore seen as partisan. Could not the BBC play a non-partisan role here and throw up some basic questions that could really open up a can of worms? Here are some questions that come to mind. Why was the chain pulled and the train stopped before the designated station? <a style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;margin:0px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://www.mainstreamweekly.net/article2684.html">Was a Muslim girl molested?</a> What happened to these stories and why have they vanished from our midst?There are many accounts, even if the BBC did want to do a quick Google search, that would tell the story of members of the VHP who were on the train returning from Ayodhya (in Uttar Pradesh) to Gujarat. Since that day, VHP members have felt either let down by their own ilk or are disgruntled and confused about their place in the Hindu parivar. Why not bring up their accounts if this is going to be a plain old story of revision of events gone by.Balancing actNow on to Part Two. Even though this too is a re-telling, it does a much better job than the first film. It starts with the lynchings in India – Akhlaq’s in Dadri, U.P. in 2015 and that of Alimuddin Ansari in Jharkhand in 2017. It then draws links between Modi’s silence on these hate crimes against Muslims to the disabling and dismemberment of Muslim majority Kashmir in 2019, to the drawing up of the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) favouring Hindus, to the violent putting down of anti-CAA protests. The critique of this film is funnily enough embedded in the film itself, in a sound byte by the writer Arundhati Roy. “Why do I speak to you on this film,” Roy says. “Only so that there’s a record somewhere that all of us didn’t agree with this. But it’s not a call for help because no help will come.” That those who critique Modi are complicit in his rise is a point made by Roy and also by the academic Christophe Jaffrelot. But they appear in the middle of an undifferentiated mass of sound bytes and are not followed up in the film.<img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/image_2023_01_24_165518913_768x381_1_14454462a1.png" alt="image_2023-01-24_165518913-768x381 (1).png">The most damning and impossible to watch segments of this film – the calls to violence and rape by Hindu extremists and the video of policemen kicking Muslims in the Delhi riots to death _ are papered over with opposing bytes. Victim’s testimonies and that of the dead boy Faizan’s mother’s account is sought to be counter-balanced with that of the odious and self-satisfied sound of BJP leader Swapan Dasgupta where he actually brushes aside the violence committed in the Delhi riots, which could in different times be read as discriminatory to the point of criminal culpability. Here’s what he says: “In the larger scheme of things, the Delhi riots were not important. But it was important to the media because it means less work and you can get good media footage just at your door-step.” Now if I were making this film, I’d show Dasgupta’s statement for what it is by interlacing it with footage from the violence. With shots of the police kicking Muslim men to death and asking them to sing the national anthem. Then the viewers would be exposed to the full-throated glorious horror of Dasgupta. The BBC’s attempt at ‘balance’ after a testimony like this can only be read as a sign of it being scared and defensive. Which begs the question – would it do a similar balancing act in making a film on the Rwandan genocide or Auschwitz with the point of view of the SS?What is it trying to do then with these films? We know that the job of the press in these times is to hold up a dark mirror. How could the BBC have done that without trying to play it safe? There are many good examples from around the world but the one that springs to mind immediately is the two-part series or rather two films made by Joshua Oppenheimer on the genocides in Indonesia in 1965. He filmed the perpetrators who gloated over what they did and made two films showing them for who they were without trying to ‘balance’ their ideas in any way. The films, Act of Killing and The Look of Silence, shook Indonesian politics and were part of the process of its unravelling. That is what good filmmaking can do.<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(39, 39, 39);font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:1.7;margin:0px 0px 15px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">In the present, India is desperately in need of such craftsmanship and it has&nbsp; got to be clearsighted in what it is setting out to achieve. If the truth is what the BBC and the rest of us in India are after then it must be unmitigated, unvarnished and laid bare. It must come with the intent to hit where it hurts. It must therefore actually be thorough and fresh and bold, like the heroes in this two-part series – Arundhati Roy, Aakar Patel and Safoora Zargar. The latter protested against the Citizenship Amendment Act on the grounds that it was partisan against Muslims. For this she was sent to jail for 74 days while she was pregnant. And the BBC is focused on balance. I rest my case.<hr><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(39, 39, 39);font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:1.7;margin:0px 0px 15px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">Read this article in <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://theaidem.com/hi-revati-laul-bbc-documentary-a-missed-opportunity/">Hindi</a>, <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://theaidem.com/ml-revati-laul-bbc-documentary-a-missed-opportunity/">Malayalam</a><hr><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(39, 39, 39);font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:1.7;margin:0px 0px 15px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">Subscribe to our channels on <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://www.youtube.com/c/THEAIDEM">YouTube</a> &amp; <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://chat.whatsapp.com/ELqD1D1bImgAP6MrG8jskq">WhatsApp</a><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(39, 39, 39);font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:1.7;margin:0px 0px 15px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">&nbsp;

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There’s a freeze frame from an old English classic I’d like to bring up before you – it’s that of Miss Havisham from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. A bride jilted at the altar is found for the rest of her years to be stuck in time, wearing her wedding dress forever since then, trapped in a freeze-frame when her world came crashing down. 

BBC’s Missed Opportunity: A New Documentary With Old Facts

<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(39, 39, 39);font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:1.7;margin:0px 0px 15px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">As a journalist, Revati Laul has covered national and international politics for the past 25 years. This experience has led to a unique and rooted grassroots understanding about communal politics and the manner in which sectarianism is manufactured and ingrained in common people. “The Anatomy of Hate” marked a continuation of this learning. In this interview with Venkitesh Ramakrishnan, Managing Editor of The AIDEM, Revati Laul talks about the processes of research and writing that went into this seminal book.<hr><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(39, 39, 39);font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:1.7;margin:0px 0px 15px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">Subscribe to our channels on <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://www.youtube.com/c/THEAIDEM">YouTube</a> &amp; <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://chat.whatsapp.com/ELqD1D1bImgAP6MrG8jskq">WhatsApp</a>

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As a journalist, Revati Laul has covered national and international politics for the past 25 years. This experience has led to a unique and rooted grassroots understanding about communal politics and the manner in which sectarianism is manufactured and ingrained in common people. 

The politics of Hate and How to Change it

<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(39, 39, 39);font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:1.7;margin:0px 0px 15px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">Teesta Setalvad, social activist and writer, has faced many tribulations and challenges through the constant struggles she has had against the Establishment. Yet, the recent past has been particularly tough, especially in the context of her arrest last year by the Anti-Terrorism Squad of the Gujarat Police. The AIDEM’s Managing Editor Venkitesh Ramakrishnan caught up with Teesta during her recent visit to Kerala. In this freewheeling interview Teesta talks about her life in jail, how she withstood the travails of incarceration and her future plans.<hr><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(39, 39, 39);font-family:Manjari;font-size:18px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;line-height:1.7;margin:0px 0px 15px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">Subscribe to our channels on <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://www.youtube.com/c/THEAIDEM">YouTube</a> &amp; <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:all 0.4s ease 0s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://chat.whatsapp.com/ELqD1D1bImgAP6MrG8jskq">WhatsApp</a>

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Teesta Setalvad, social activist and writer, has faced many tribulations and challenges through the constant struggles she has had against the Establishment. 

Teesta Setalvad- Life, Society and Activism Beyond Jail

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Monday, January 8 secured a major win for woman survivor Bilkis Bano and her valiant battle for justice for the murder of seven members of her family, including three year old baby

Bilkis Banu Case: Supreme Court strikes down Gujarat High Court Verdict

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The Women Who Fought for Justice for Bilkis Bano

<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;display:inline !important;float:none;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;orphans:2;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">Subhashini Ali, Polit Bureau member of the CPI(M), was one of the three main litigants who steadfastly pursued the Bilkis Bano case in the Supreme Court, including in challenging the remission of her convicted rapists. In this interaction with Rajeev Sankaran, Editor in Charge of Risala Update and Venkitesh Ramakrishnan, Managing Editor of The AIDEM, she discusses the importance of the verdict in judicial, social and political terms and points to the future course of action in relation to the case. Watch Here.

"Bilkis Bano Case Verdict; A Game Changing Moment"

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How NCERT Cripples the Idea of India

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<img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/images_9_45ef5452cd.jpeg" alt="images-9.jpeg" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_images_9_45ef5452cd.jpeg 245w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/small_images_9_45ef5452cd.jpeg 500w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><div class="post-body clearfix single-blog-header single-blog-inner blog-single-block blog-details-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Manjari;font-size:17px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;margin:0px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;"><div class="entry-content clearfix" style="box-sizing:border-box;counter-reset:footnotes 0;margin:0px;padding:0px;">The following article is part of the Trailblazing Women of India series. A series presented by The AIDEM, exploring the lives and ideas of women who played a decisive role in shaping India’s social, political, and intellectual history.The AIDEM underscores the enduring contemporary relevance of revisiting the lives of these women leaders and the ideas they championed. Click <a style="background-color:transparent;box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(255, 53, 36);display:inline-block;margin:0px;padding:0px;transition:0.4s;" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://youtu.be/G_sxvcXO0tg">here</a> to watch the video.<hr>Picture this: It’s 1930. A 27-year-old woman stands before Mahatma Gandhi, telling him he’s making a historic mistake.Gandhi is planning the Salt March. His vision? Men march and women stand on street corners selling salt and singing songs.Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay says: No.“Women have stood shoulder to shoulder with men, building the Congress party. They deserve to march,” she insists.<figure class="wp-caption aligncenter" style="box-sizing:border-box;clear:both;display:block;margin:15px auto;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:654px;" id="attachment_42087" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-42087"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/Kamaladevi_Chattopadhyaya_Leading_a_Congress_march_in_the_early_1930s_a72f010da1.jpg" alt="Kamaladevi-Chattopadhyaya-Leading-a-Congress-march-in-the-early-1930s.jpg" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_Kamaladevi_Chattopadhyaya_Leading_a_Congress_march_in_the_early_1930s_a72f010da1.jpg 102w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/small_Kamaladevi_Chattopadhyaya_Leading_a_Congress_march_in_the_early_1930s_a72f010da1.jpg 327w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/medium_Kamaladevi_Chattopadhyaya_Leading_a_Congress_march_in_the_early_1930s_a72f010da1.jpg 491w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-42087">Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya leading a Congress march in the early 1930s</figcaption></figure>Gandhi concedes. But she’s not finished. “Issue a formal call to action.”“Why?” Gandhi asks. “Don’t you know your sisters?”Her response? Pure political genius: “Because history will record that YOU called them to participate.”&nbsp;History did record it. Women marched beside Gandhi, breaking salt laws. Kamaladevi became one of the first women arrested for civil disobedience. She auctioned “freedom salt” at the Bombay Stock Exchange for Rs. 501. On January 26, 1930, she clung to the Indian tricolour during a scuffle with authorities, refusing to let go.Who was this woman bold enough to challenge Gandhi?Born in 1903 in Mangalore, married at fourteen, widowed at sixteen. She remarried—scandalous. She divorced—one of India’s first civil divorces. In 1926, encouraged by Margaret Cousins, she became the first woman to contest a legislative office, losing by just 55 votes. In 1927, she founded the All India Women’s Conference as its organizing secretary.In 1936, she became a founding member of the Congress Socialist Party, working alongside Jayaprakash Narayan and Ram Manohar Lohia. Yet when we celebrate Indian socialism, we remember only the men.<figure class="wp-caption aligncenter" style="box-sizing:border-box;clear:both;display:block;margin:15px auto;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:300px;" id="attachment_42084" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-42084"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/Kamaladevi_Chattopadhyay_aa0f5dde3b.jpg" alt="Kamaladevi-Chattopadhyay.jpg" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_Kamaladevi_Chattopadhyay_aa0f5dde3b.jpg 113w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-42084">Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay</figcaption></figure>Her ideas were revolutionary. She connected capitalism, imperialism, and women’s subjection: “This imperial capitalist system encourages endless wars and expects women to produce children who become soldiers.” She challenged glorified motherhood itself.In the 1930s—decades before global women’s liberation—she championed bodily autonomy and birth control. Not for population control, but for women’s choice. She traveled to America, worked with Margaret Sanger, and in 1951 established India’s first family planning commission centered on women’s autonomy.She championed what we now refer as feminist economics, preceding the Feminist Care Ethics Debate by decades. She documented sexual division of labor, wage discrimination, and systematic underpayment of women workers in industrial and agricultural sectors—when labor movements barely acknowledged women as workers.Interestingly, she refused the label “feminist,” understanding that in her hostile patriarchal environment, strategic pragmatism mattered. But her ideas? Profoundly feminist.<img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/Kamaladevi_4_58727afc75.jpg" alt="Kamaladevi-4.jpg" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_Kamaladevi_4_58727afc75.jpg 216w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/small_Kamaladevi_4_58727afc75.jpg 500w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined">After Partition, heartbroken, she resettled 50,000 refugees from the North-West Frontier Province, helping create Faridabad—independent India’s crucial early industrial township. In 1948, she founded and led the Indian Cooperative Union for the rehabilitation of the refugees.Her greatest legacy? Reviving India’s dying crafts as economic empowerment. As chairperson of the All India Handicrafts Board for twenty years, she understood that handicrafts meant livelihoods for millions, grassroots democratic participation, and India’s answer to exploitative industrialization.Her institutions still stand: Indian National Theatre established in 1944, which later became National School of Drama, All India Handicrafts Board established in 1952, Sangeet Natak Akademi in 1953, Crafts Council of India in 1964, and Delhi’s Crafts Museum in 1967. She made Indian handicrafts a major export, serving as an Advisor to the World Craft Council and first President for the Asia-Pacific Region.<figure class="wp-caption aligncenter" style="box-sizing:border-box;clear:both;display:block;margin:15px auto;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:555px;" id="attachment_42085" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-42085"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/Leading_Their_Imperial_Highnesses_to_the_dias_60795d4aa2.jpg" alt="Leading-Their-Imperial-Highnesses-to-the-dias.jpg" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_Leading_Their_Imperial_Highnesses_to_the_dias_60795d4aa2.jpg 216w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/small_Leading_Their_Imperial_Highnesses_to_the_dias_60795d4aa2.jpg 500w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-42085">Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya leading their Imperial Highnesses to the dias</figcaption></figure>From UNESCO Awards to the Padma Vibhushan, her legacy endures in every artisan earning a dignified living today.Kamaladevi died in 1988, but her question echoes: What does freedom mean without bodily autonomy, economic independence, and cultural sovereignty?As you explore her work—and I hope you will—ask yourself: What would Kamaladevi be fighting for today?<div class="raw-html-embed"><iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/G_sxvcXO0tg" title="Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay and the Idea of Cultural Sovereignty by Priyanka Jha | New Series | EP 02 " frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div></div></div>

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Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay: The Woman who taught Gandhi a Lesson

<div class="post-body clearfix single-blog-header single-blog-inner blog-single-block blog-details-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Manjari;font-size:17px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;margin:0px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;"><div class="entry-content clearfix" style="box-sizing:border-box;counter-reset:footnotes 0;margin:0px;padding:0px;">Shuruart Foundation has been using art to make education more joyful and effective since 2017. Does your child often draw the same thing again and again? Should parents be worried if this happens? In this episode of Child and Art: Myths &amp; Facts, we talk about why children repeat drawings and what it really tells us about their confidence and emotional growth. Learn how your positive feedback and encouragement can help your child express freely, think creatively, and build genuine self-confidence. Watch the video to learn more.</div></div>

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Same drawing again? Is that good or bad for your child’s growth?

<div class="post-featured-image" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Manjari;font-size:17px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;margin:0px 0px 50px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">&nbsp;</div><figure class="image"><img style="aspect-ratio:undefined/undefined;" src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/Wearing_My_Face_Before_a_Media_that_Has_the_Power_to_Make_and_Unmake_4_optimized_100_f65d7f55f3.png" alt="Wearing_My_Face_Before_a_Media_that_Has_the_Power_to_Make_and_Unmake_4_optimized_100.png" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_Wearing_My_Face_Before_a_Media_that_Has_the_Power_to_Make_and_Unmake_4_optimized_100_f65d7f55f3.png 245w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/small_Wearing_My_Face_Before_a_Media_that_Has_the_Power_to_Make_and_Unmake_4_optimized_100_f65d7f55f3.png 500w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"></figure><div class="post-featured-image" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Manjari;font-size:17px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;margin:0px 0px 50px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;">As advocates, our lives are consumed by briefs and arguments, leaving little room for leisure. For me, the finest pastime is research and writing, a legacy I proudly inherit from my late grandfather, Shri S.A.A. Rizvi, IAS (Retd.). He was a gold medallist and a remarkable scholar of his times. His example instilled in me the conviction that the pursuit of knowledge is not merely an adornment, but a discipline that enriches both profession and personality.</div><div class="post-body clearfix single-blog-header single-blog-inner blog-single-block blog-details-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width:0px;background-color:rgb(255, 255, 255);box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Manjari;font-size:17px;font-style:normal;font-variant-caps:normal;font-variant-ligatures:normal;font-weight:400;letter-spacing:normal;margin:0px;orphans:2;padding:0px;text-align:left;text-decoration-color:initial;text-decoration-style:initial;text-decoration-thickness:initial;text-indent:0px;text-transform:none;white-space:normal;widows:2;word-spacing:0px;"><div class="entry-content clearfix" style="box-sizing:border-box;counter-reset:footnotes 0;margin:0px;padding:0px;">It was in this spirit that a casual exchange with my colleague Nadeem Murtaza at the High Court rekindled this passion. His query, whether I had ever heard of “Douglas” or “Kinnaird Hospital” of Lucknow was not a passing remark, but a spark that illuminated a forgotten chapter of Lucknow’s medical heritage. His mother, Zahida Auntie, had often spoken of it, pointing to the site near today’s Lari Cardiology Centre, where the geriatric and mental health departments of KGMU (King George Medical University) now stand. That conversation became the bridge between my inherited love for inquiry and the living memory of our city, compelling me to delve into archives and dissertations, and to uncover the remarkable story of a hospital that once stood shoulder to shoulder with Queen Mary and Lady Dufferin Hospitals in Lucknow.&nbsp;<figure class="wp-caption aligncenter" style="box-sizing:border-box;clear:both;display:block;margin:15px auto;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:426px;" id="attachment_41918" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-41918"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/Kinnaird_Memorial_Hospital_1_1_1024x666_2b0c4cee0d.png" alt="Kinnaird-Memorial-Hospital-1-1-1024x666.png" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_Kinnaird_Memorial_Hospital_1_1_1024x666_2b0c4cee0d.png 240w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/small_Kinnaird_Memorial_Hospital_1_1_1024x666_2b0c4cee0d.png 500w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/medium_Kinnaird_Memorial_Hospital_1_1_1024x666_2b0c4cee0d.png 750w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/large_Kinnaird_Memorial_Hospital_1_1_1024x666_2b0c4cee0d.png 1000w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-41918">Lady Kinnaird Memorial Hospital</figcaption></figure>The story begins in 1875, when Elizabeth Bielby, a nurse sent by the Zenana Mission Society, began her medical mission near Lucknow. Though beset by tragedy, her sister Alice died soon after arrival, and Bielby herself fell gravely ill, the mission still endured. By 1891, through the efforts of Dr. Grace Mackinnon, the Lady Kinnaird Memorial Hospital was established on government-granted land, named after Lady Kinnaird. She was a devout Presbyterian philanthropist remembered for founding the YWCA.&nbsp;<figure class="wp-caption alignnone" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;margin:15px auto 10px;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:416px;" id="attachment_41915" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-41915"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/CMS_CRL_IW_1899_08_0007_cropped1_7b434dba61.jpg" alt="CMS_CRL_IW_1899_08_0007-cropped1.jpg" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_CMS_CRL_IW_1899_08_0007_cropped1_7b434dba61.jpg 244w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-41915">England Zenana Missionary Society</figcaption></figure>In 1910, Dr. Ethel Douglas took charge, and for the next 36 years she transformed the institution, expanding facilities, raising standards, and establishing training protocols that led to the North India Board of Examiners and State Registration Councils. Her dedication earned her the Kaiser-i-Hind Medal in Gold in 1927, and government grants that enabled new wards and modern equipment. As Beth Bullock Spencer’s dissertation records, Douglas’s “extraordinary influence” kept the Lucknow hospital “overflowing,” even as she grappled with challenges ranging from reluctant purdah patients to the infamous monkey menace.“Even the veteran doctor Ethel Douglas struggled to find a solution to the monkey problem, for some of the local people regarded the monkeys as sacred; harming the monkeys was out of question. Douglas resorted to shouting and shaking her rifle at the monkeys, but with little effect.”Snakes, too, were a recurring hazard, and cultural beliefs often complicated medical practice. Patients observing purdah resisted operations, some postponed surgeries at the last minute deeming the hour “inauspicious,” while others consulted village elders who determinedhe hospital became a sanctuary for women’s health, normalizing dental extractions, eye surgeries, and maternity care in a city where traditional practices often prevailed.The British contribution to Lucknow’s health system was profound. Alongside Lady Kinnaird Memorial Hospital, the Lady Dufferin Hospital was established in 1889 under the Countess of Dufferin Fund to provide safe maternity care. Later, the Queen Mary’s Hospital arose in the early 20th century as a centre for women’s medical education. Together, these institutions marked the colonial effort to embed Western medicine into the city’s fabric, particularly for women and children. They were not merely hospitals but symbols of reform, philanthropy, and the gradual acceptance of modern medical practices in a society negotiating tradition and change.<figure class="wp-caption alignnone" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;margin:15px auto 10px;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:396px;" id="attachment_41916" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-41916"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/Lady_Dufferin_Hospital_Virabijee_Katrak_Maternity_Wing_768x432_4cbd6e4487.jpg" alt="Lady_Dufferin_Hospital-_Virabijee_Katrak_Maternity_Wing-768x432.jpg" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_Lady_Dufferin_Hospital_Virabijee_Katrak_Maternity_Wing_768x432_4cbd6e4487.jpg 245w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/small_Lady_Dufferin_Hospital_Virabijee_Katrak_Maternity_Wing_768x432_4cbd6e4487.jpg 500w,https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/medium_Lady_Dufferin_Hospital_Virabijee_Katrak_Maternity_Wing_768x432_4cbd6e4487.jpg 750w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-41916">Lady Dufferin Hospital, Lucknow</figcaption></figure>By 1965, however, Lady Kinnaird Memorial Hospital succumbed to financial constraints and closed its doors. In 1971, the site was absorbed into King George Medical College, now popularly known as KGMU, housing its neurosurgical and mental health departments. Today, its memory lingers only in archives and recollections, overshadowed by its contemporaries. Yet, its legacy remains unique – a Christian missionary hospital that combined philanthropy, medical progress, and social reform. A place where doctors braved not only disease but monkeys, snakes, and cultural resistance to bring care to the women of Lucknow. An institution that has produced some of the world’s finest medical professionals, researchers and administrators. The pictures of these alumni are featured below.&nbsp;<figure class="wp-caption alignnone" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;margin:15px auto 10px;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:276px;" id="attachment_41910" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-41910"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/download_4_26ce212e58.png" alt="download-4.png" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_download_4_26ce212e58.png 235w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-41910">Dr. BM Hedge – Alumni of KGMU</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;<figure class="wp-caption alignnone" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;margin:15px auto 10px;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:293px;" id="attachment_41911" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-41911"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/download_5_c239ac1c62.png" alt="download-5.png" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_download_5_c239ac1c62.png 245w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-41911">Dr. Sanduk Ruit – Alumni of KGMU</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;<figure class="wp-caption alignnone" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;margin:15px auto 10px;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:300px;" id="attachment_41912" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-41912"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/images_1_d076bb83d3.png" alt="images-1.png" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_images_1_d076bb83d3.png 245w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-41912">Dr. Naresh Trehan – Alumni of KGMU</figcaption></figure><figure class="wp-caption alignnone" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;margin:15px auto 10px;max-width:100%;padding:0px;width:211px;" id="attachment_41913" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-41913"><img src="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/images_1_1_300x300_b57c8c7015.png" alt="images-1-1-300x300.png" srcset="https://strapi.bangalore2.com/uploads/thumbnail_images_1_1_300x300_b57c8c7015.png 156w," sizes="100vw" width="undefined" height="undefined"><figcaption class="wp-caption-text" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;font-size:15px;line-height:20px;margin:0px;padding:12px 0px 0px;text-align:center;" id="caption-attachment-41913">Dr. Anil Kohli – Alumni of KGMU</figcaption></figure>As I reflect upon this heritage, I am convinced that Lucknow’s medical history is incomplete without acknowledging the forgotten jewel that was Lady Kinnaird Memorial Hospital. Its story is not merely of bricks and mortar, but of pioneering women doctors, missionary zeal, and the evolution of healthcare in colonial and post-colonial India. Remembering it is essential to preserving the dignity of our city’s cultural and medical legacy.</div></div>

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