Come August, the air begins to buzz with anticipation in Kerala. The boat race season is here! Known locally as vallamkali (literally, boat play), the sight of dozens of snake boats slicing through the waters, powered by hundreds of synchronized oarsmen, is one of Kerala’s most spectacular traditions. Shiny black boats stretching almost 100 feet, with rowers swaying to the rhythm of a vanchipattu (boat song).
The most famous of the boat races is the Nehru Trophy Boat Race, inaugurated in 1952 when Jawaharlal Nehru, then Prime Minister, was so captivated by the spectacle that he donated a silver trophy. Today, the Nehru Trophy on the Punnamada Lake in Alappuzha attracts international attention and has been featured on tourism campaigns worldwide. But across the state, from Aranmula to Champakulam, local communities host their own races, each with its own traditions and lore.
Innovation on the Water
One of the most interesting aspects of the boat races today is how technology has crept in—not to diminish tradition, but to amplify it. While the boats themselves are still crafted the old way, using Anjili wood and painstaking carpentry handed down through generations, innovations have entered the training and organization.
Rowers now undergo scientific fitness regimes, with physiotherapists, nutritionists, and even sports psychologists guiding teams. GPS trackers and drone footage help coaches analyze synchronization and speed—things once left only to the naked eye and instinct. Live-streaming and 4K broadcasts take the drama of the races across the world, making it a truly global event. And traditional boat songs as well as new ones are now available on Spotify playlists.
Women at the Oars
But what about women? For long, the snake boat races were a male preserve, embodying sheer physicality. Yet, in recent years, there has been a quiet but important shift. Kerala has begun hosting all-women boat races—a recognition that strength and stamina are not male monopolies. In 2022, the first Vallamkali exclusively for women was held, with teams of fisherwomen taking to the waters.
Even in mixed-community celebrations, women’s teams are increasingly visible, particularly in the Kettu Vallam (smaller decorated boats) races. It is still early days, but the image of women rowing with fierce determination underlines how traditions evolve without losing their essence.
More than a Race
Preparing a snake boat involves dozens of families. Training the oarsmen requires food, lodging, and encouragement from entire villages. On race day, the banks are filled with people singing, cheering, and celebrating. Divisions of caste, class, and creed dissolve.
There is also a spiritual dimension. The Aranmula boat race, for instance, is tied to temple rituals, where the boats are offered as homage to Lord Parthasarathy. Here, winning or losing is less important than participation.
The Kerala boat races are not just about the boats—they’re about the teams, each carrying the pride of their village or community. In recent years, the competition has become so professional that many villages now run their own “boat clubs,” with dedicated squads training year-round. It’s a bit like football clubs elsewhere—loyalty runs deep, rivalries are fierce, and victories are celebrated across the community! A few of the most celebrated teams are:United Boat Club (UBC), Kainakary, Police Boat Club, Kollam, Jawahar Boat Club (JBC), Kollam, St. Pius Boat Club, Alappuzha, Karichal Chundan (Alappuzha), Champakulam Chundan, Veppu Vallams of Aranmula.
Congratulations to the winner of this year’s 71st Nehru Boat race held last week, the boat Veeyapuram Chundan of Village Boat Club Kainakary. The winning team which was one among 75 competitors, touched the finishing line in 4.21.084 minutes.
Montessori is a word much-used today in early education and there is an explosion of what are self-described ‘Montessori’ schools. These are often housed in modern buildings, equipped with a surfeit of the latest ‘equipment’, and accordingly charging high fees. Perhaps not many of the parents who rush to book admission for their child in such a school, almost as soon as it is born, may know much more about Montessori than the name.
The original story behind the schools, and the name that distinguishes these schools is very different. It is the story of Maria Montessori an educator, scientist, physician, innovator, philosopher, feminist and humanitarian.
Maria Montessori was born on 31 August 1870 in Chiaravalle, Italy, the only child of Alessandro and Renilde Montessori. Her parents moved to Rome when she was five years old. A curious, strong-willed girl, Maria, from a young age took paths that defied the norms of her times. After completing high school, instead of going in for teaching, a conventional occupation for girls at the time, she applied to medical school but was refused admission. So she enrolled in the university where she studied physics, mathematics and natural sciences; and reapplied to medical school. She was eventually admitted in 1890, one of the first women in medical school in Italy. In the face of many obstacles because of her gender, Maria qualified as a doctor in 1896. She was also beginning to get involved in the movement for women’s rights.
As a practising doctor Maria became known not only for her skills in treating patients but equally for working with the poorest, and the respect she showed to patients of all social classes. She also joined as a volunteer for a research programme at the psychiatry clinic of the University of Rome, where she became deeply interested in the needs of children with learning disabilities. She went on to become co-director of a new institution called the Orthophrenic School which focussed on such children. During her work here she became convinced that instead of writing off such children as ‘retarded’, they needed the right support. This theory was radical for that time. She also travelled to London and Rome to learn more, and when she came back she spent hours in developing and experimenting with materials and methods, using ideas from the founders of kindergarten, Froebel and educators Itard and Seguin. Her experiments began to show positive results.
Maria continued her academic pursuits with studies of educational philosophy and anthropology, and from 1904-1908 she was a lecturer at the Pedagogic School of the University of Rome. During this period Rome was in economic decline, leading to widespread poverty and the growth of many ghettos. One such was an area called the “Quartiere di San Lorenzo” which was known as the shame of Italy. Here children of desperately poor parents who were out all day trying to earn a living, were left to their own devices in unsanitary and chaotic conditions. These children ran wild, destroying property, and indulging in anti-social behaviour. The authorities were looking for a solution to this huge problem. Maria was offered the opportunity to work with these children, using the materials that she had been developing when she was working with children with special needs. Maria took up the challenge.
As Dr Montessori recalled later: “One room was set aside for this purpose, resembling in every way a children’s prison. It was hoped that a person would be found with enough social courage to tackle the problem. I in my capacity of medical officer of hygiene was approached to take an interest in the work. Having considered the situation I demanded that at least the commonest aids in hygiene, food and sanitation be made available. On the 6th of January 1907 this room was inaugurated to collect the 50 children
But while everyone had had the idea that by giving houses and sanitation, the people would be purified, no one had taken in consideration the children; no one had thought to bring toys or food for them. When the children, ranging between the ages of 2 to 6 entered, they were dressed all alike in some thick, heavy, blue drill. They were frightened and being hindered by the stiff material, could move neither arms nor legs freely. Apart of their own community they had never seen any people. To get them to move together, they were made to hold hands. The first unwilling child was pulled, thus dragging along the whole line of the rest. All of them were crying miserably.”
Thus opened the first Casa de Bambini (Children’s House). A pioneering experiment in working with 50 poorest of poor and illiterate two to six-year-old children. Maria began with using the activities and materials that she had developed at the Orthophrenic School. She closely observed the children with a scientist’s approach, noting which ones engaged them and discarding the ones that did not. Her observations led her to realize that children who were placed in an environment where activities were designed to support their natural development had the power to educate themselves. As she said when recalling the opening of the first Casa di Bambini: “I don’t know what came over me but I had a vision and inspired by it, I was enflamed and said that this work we were undertaking would prove to be very important and that someday people would come from all parts to see it.”
The results that followed were so surprising that working for children soon became her life’s work. As she later wrote: “In order to follow them, I changed my whole life. I was nearly 40. I had in front of me a doctor’s career and a professorship at the university. But I left all because I felt compelled to follow them and to find others who could follow them, for I saw that in them lay the secret of the soul.”
By 1909 Maria gave her first training course in her new approach to around 100 students. Her notes from this period provided the material for her first book published that same year in Italy, appearing in translation in the United States in 1912 as The Montessori Method, and later translated into 20 languages. The rest, as they say is history. The experiment at Casa di Bambini grew into a movement. Montessori societies, training programmes and schools sprang up all over the world. Dr Montessori herself travelled across the world, giving talks. But through her life she emphasized: “It has nothing to do with any educational method of the past, nor with any educational method of the future. It stands alone as the contribution of the child himself. Perhaps it is the first of its kind, which has been built by him step by step. It cannot have come from an adult person; the thought, the very principle that the adult should stand aside to make room for the child, could never have come from the adult.”
Today as young parents are faced with choices of educational institutions, and inundated with invitations from expensive Montessori schools, and toys and equipment, it is a good time to recall that the roots go back to very opposite circumstances. And remember Maria Montessori’s words: “Anyone who wants to follow my method must understand that he should not honour me but follow the child as his leader.”
August 12 is marked as World Elephant Day. And it is also Ganesh Charurthi time. So an appropirate time to talk about elephants.
The Asian Elephant is an endangered species, with less than 50,000 left in the wild across the world. And hence the importance of marking this day as a way of raising awareness about elephants and the dangers that threaten them.
What we see is what we grow to love and respect. And hence the importance of all the depictions of elephants we see around us—from sari borders to sculptures in ancient temples to the life-sized sculptures made from invasive weeds found in the Nilgiris, crafted by indigenous communities. Each and every one of them is an opportunity for education about our biodiversity and this magnificent species.
One can understand the ubiquitousness of elephant imagery in India—after all we hold about 60 per cent of the numbers. But interestingly, it is Taiwan which was well-known for elephant imagery all over its public parks and schools, in the form of Elephant Slides.
These are the whimsical, solid, painted playground fixtures affectionately known as “Grandpa Elephant”— and they hold fond memories for a generation of Taiwanese kids, now grown.
The elephant slide was a fixture of childhood in Taiwan from the 1960s through the 1980s. Found in schoolyards and public parks, these slides were typically made from china-mosaic or concrete, with a stairway or ladder up the back and a gently curved trunk functioning as the slide.
Many bore motivational slogans etched into the sides: “Strengthen your body to build the country.” Even in play, the messaging was patriotic. But for kids? It was all about the joy of scrambling up that broad back and riding the trunk like it was the gateway to an imaginary world.
Now, with safety codes tightened and tastes modernized, many of these eleslides have disappeared. But a movement to preserve and honour them has taken root, led by artists, writers, and nostalgic grown-ups determined to keep these gentle giants from fading away completely.
A Concrete Revival
Writer Yu Chiu-ling and designer Hsiu Pi-cheng have been at the forefront of this effort. Yu founded the Facebook group “Find Our Elephant Friends,” a digital scrapbook of elephant slide-sightings across the island. Hsiu has documented over 400 slides, many tucked away behind schools or community centres, quietly waiting to be remembered.
Their work isn’t just about playground preservation — it’s about cultural memory. About honouring the handmade, the imperfect, and the deeply local.
Elephants Across Borders
Asian elephants range across. Bangladesh, Bhutan, Cambodia, China, India, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Thailand, and Vietnam. Strangely, there have never been elephants in Taiwan in the wild in recorded history. While elephant fossils have been found on the island, indicating their presence in prehistoric times, there is no evidence to suggest that elephants lived in Taiwan during the period of human history documented by archaeology and literature.
But Taiwan does have the most emotionally iconic version of the elephant slide! You will also find their cousins in parks across Japan, Thailand, Vietnam, and parts of Eastern Europe. From Soviet-era concrete sculptures to candy-coloured cartoon versions in Tokyo suburbs, the idea of turning a beloved elephant into a playmate has clearly crossed cultures. But sadly, no ele-slides in India!
Unfortunately today, both real elephants and their concrete urban renderings are endangered. One is fighting for survival in an increasingly human-dominated world. The other is quietly disappearing with changing times.
Elephants have always symbolized memory, strength, and gentleness.
Let’s protect the real ones. And let’s remember the playful ones, too.
Tribal communities have long inhabited India’s lands, living in close proximity with their natural environment and following their ancestral ways of life, culture and traditions. At the same time these peoples were always considered to be on the fringes of mainstream society; socially and economically exploited,
and deprived of fundamental rights. Dashri Chaudhary was born in one such community in the Vedchhi region of south Gujarat on 3 October 1918. Her father Rumsibhai and mother Ambaben belonged to one of the tribes which were collectively called ‘rani paraj’ or ‘people of the forests’, and later known as ‘adivasis’.
Although traditionally these communities were deprived of education, Dashri’s father as well as her grandfather Jeevanbhai had both received education. This was because the Vedchhi region was then under the Gaekwad rule of Baroda which encouraged compulsory education for all. Jeevanbhai Chaudhari was a school teacher and social reformer. Dashri was brought up in a progressive environment, and studied up to class 4 in the government school in her village.
In the meanwhile her father and grandfather were coming under Gandhi’s influence. They began to organize the local adivasi community to oppose the socio-economic exploitation by the British as well as the local moneylenders. They started an organization named Kaliparaj Parishad for the upliftment of their community. The organization started taking shape in 1905 with the convening of the Raniparaj convention where the issues of exploitation of adivasis and social and educational reforms were discussed. The women formed bhajan mandalis, and travelled from village to village singing songs inviting people to join the satyagraha movement.
After Gandhiji’s return to India from South Africa in 1915, Dashri’s grandfather invited him to attend the convention but he could not do so at that time. However Kasturba came in 1923, the first non-adivasi woman to attend. Gandhiji himself attended the next convention in 1924. Dashri was then six years old. Her family had already adopted the khadi movement. Little Dashri was keen that she should also welcome Gandhiji with a garland of handspun khadi thread. The story goes that Gandhi picked up the little girl who was wearing gold bangles and anklets. He told her “Child, we are slaves. We cannot wear jewellry.” The six year old immediately took off the ornaments, and never again in her life, wore any again.
Dashri completed class four in Vedchhi and joined class 5 in the government girls’ school in Valod. However responding to Gandhi’s call to boycott government school education, she left the school.
She moved to Ranipara Kanya Vidyalaya a nationalist school (Rashtriya Shala) imparting basic education, started by Kasturba, Mithiben Petit and others in Pune town in Mandvi district. Kasturba was there at the time. Dashri barely completed one year here when the school was shut down. All the students got involved with the freedom movement which was gaining momentum in the light of the Dandi March in 1930 which sparked a nationwide Civil Disobedience Movement. Dashri was an active participant. She and her friends picketed liquor shops, they protested against the British policy of prohibiting tribals from producing and selling toddy which was locally brewed.
On 26 January 1933, she was arrested while picketing a shop that sold foreign cloth. She was only 14 years old. She was tried. When asked what work she did, she replied “To free India”. She was asked if she knew the consequences of such activity, she replied “Yes, I know. If I die I will be called a martyr”. The magistrate is believed to have commented “This is girl is dangerous.”
Dashri was sentenced to one year in Yervada jail. Kasturba was already imprisoned there. She was surprised to see the young student who had been in the Rashtriya Shala. “How you have grown, and now you are in jail”, she said. The two became close. Dashri spent the year in jail doing all the manual tasks that the prisoners were assigned. Kasturba usually requested fellow prisoners to write letters for her, as she herself could not do so. During the time when they were in jail, Kasturba requested the young Dashri to teach her how to read and write. Dashri herself had only completed primary school and here she took on the role of teacher. In the time that they had free from the arduous prison tasks, the young teacher and elder student attentively worked with the slate and chalk, learning Gujarati letters and moving ahead. It is believed that Dashri successfully taught her student in four months! The first letter Kasturba wrote was to Gandhiji who was delighted. He wrote to Kasturba ‘Tell this girl that “you could do what I could not!”
After her release Dashri continued with her studies at Gujarat Vidyapith. She also learnt music from Pandit Narayan More, and learnt to play several instruments. As the Quit India movement gained momentum in 1942, she once again gave up her studies and joined. She added spirit to the protests and processions with her powerful singing of patriotic songs.
She was arrested once again, and sentenced to a year’s imprisonment. After her release, in 1944 she married a fellow satyagrahi Kanjibhai Chaudhary. She continued to be actively engaged with the activities at Vedchhi ashram.
After Independence she resumed her interrupted studies, completing her Matric and Primary Teachers Course. She started a school for children of very backward communities and continued to contribute to the field of education. She was not interested in getting into politics. She herself never gave up learning, and was always active in social causes. She lived in Vedchhi, where one of Gandhi’s close associate Jugatram Dave established an Ashram dedicated to upliftment of the adivasis in the socially and economically backward area through constructive work and education.
Dashriben passed away in 2013 at the age of 95 years. A long life dedicated entirely to the cause of the nation.
National Librarian’s Day is celebrated on August 12th every year to commemorate the birth anniversary of Dr. S.R. Ranganathan, the “Father of Library Science in India”.
When we say “library,” most people imagine rows of books, a quiet reading room, and perhaps a stern librarian at the desk. But in the language of library science, a “library” is defined less by its shelves and more by its functions — acquiring, organising, preserving, and making knowledge accessible.
By that definition, the world is full of libraries that hold no books at all. Some store bird calls. Others archive satellite images. Some collect DNA sequences. In fact, they are not physical spaces at all. Many are vast online repositories where scientists and citizens alike can deposit, discover, and use data.
On this Librarians’ Day, let’s explore how these nature and biodiversity depositories perform the same core functions as traditional libraries — only their collections are wild, living, and often invisible to the naked eye.
Acquisition: Gathering the Wild
Libraries begin by collecting materials. In biodiversity repositories, this might mean researchers uploading recordings to Macaulay Library (Cornell Lab of Ornithology) or Xeno-canto, which crowdsource bird calls from around the world.
Example:iNaturalist “acquires” photographs and species observations from millions of contributors.
Example:GBIF (Global Biodiversity Information Facility) harvests species occurrence data from institutions and citizen scientists alike.
Just as a public library acquires books from publishers and donors, these nature libraries acquire data from field biologists, monitoring equipment, and enthusiastic amateurs.
Organisation: Making Sense of the Collection
Without organisation, a library is just a warehouse. And hence the focus on developing classification systems. Dr. S.R. Ranganathan primarily used and developed the Colon Classification (CC) system. The Dewey Decimal system is the widely prevalent one used in most libraries across the world.
Biodiversity data portals however are based on the Linnaean system of classification and organize living organisms based on evolutionary relationships. This involves classifying organisms into hierarchical groups like kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, and species. This is.
Example:BOLD (Barcode of Life Data System) and GenBank organise genetic sequences by species, geography, and collection method.
Example:ITIS (Integrated Taxonomic Information System) standardises names so scientists worldwide speak the same language.
The result? You can search for a frog by its Latin name, its genetic barcode, or the location where it was found — just like you can search for a book by title, author, or subject.
Preservation: Guarding the Record
One of a library’s noblest duties is preservation — ensuring the information remains available for future generations. In biodiversity repositories, this may involve:
Storing acoustic recordings (bat calls, whale songs) in durable digital formats.
Archiving satellite imagery in systems like NASA Earthdata and Global Forest Watch for long-term environmental monitoring.
Keeping herbarium records in Tropicos and long-term forest data in ForestGEO.
Like rare manuscripts in acid-free folders, these data are preserved against loss, decay, and obsolescence.
Access: Opening the Doors
Libraries thrive when they are accessible. Many biodiversity repositories are open access — anyone can explore them. And importantly, contribute to them.
eBird lets birdwatchers view migration patterns and personal checklists.
FishBase offers species profiles for students, fishers, and marine scientists alike.
OBIS (Ocean Biogeographic Information System) gives marine biologists open access to ocean species occurrence data.
Merlin helps users identify birds by their calls.
Some repositories, like Wildlife Insights or certain ethnobotanical databases, may have restricted access for sensitive data — similar to a library’s rare books section.
Dissemination: Spreading Knowledge
A library doesn’t just keep information — it shares it. Biodiversity repositories publish datasets for conservation planning, scientific research, and education.
Movebank shares animal movement data for migration studies.
The Digital Himalaya Project disseminates ethnographic and ecological knowledge, bridging science and tradition.
Why These Libraries Matter
By meeting the same functional standards as a traditional library — acquisition, organisation, preservation, access, and dissemination — biodiversity depositories are not just “like” libraries, they are libraries. Their collections may be recordings instead of novels, or genetic codes instead of encyclopaedias, but the principles are identical.
In a time of rapid environmental change, these libraries are our collective memory-keepers for life on Earth. They store the songs of rare birds, the paths of migrating whales, the genetic fingerprints of endangered plants, and the traditional wisdom of communities who have lived with nature for centuries.
So this Librarians’ Day, remember: the guardians of knowledge are not only in buildings with books. They are also in digital sound archives, genetic databases, satellite imagery vaults, and underwater biodiversity surveys. Wherever knowledge is collected, cared for, and shared — there, you will find a library. Dr. Ranganathan, I am sure, would have been excited to explore the new realms of libraries and library science!
–Meena
There are a wide range of data depositories and libraries related to nature and biodiversity across different domains—ranging from sounds (like bat and bird calls) to genetics, species observations, satellite imagery, and more. Here is a list of some of these depositories, which Chat GPT has been kind enough to put together!
🦇 Acoustic and Sound Libraries
Bat Call Library – Region-specific databases like EchoBank or ChiroVox.
Macaulay Library (Cornell Lab of Ornithology) – Massive archive of bird sounds, videos, and photos.
Xeno-canto – Open-access database of bird calls and songs from across the world.
AmphibiaWeb – Includes some amphibian vocalization data.
BLB (British Library Sound Archive – Wildlife Section) – Historical and contemporary recordings of animals.
🌍 Species Observations and Biodiversity Portals
GBIF (Global Biodiversity Information Facility) – Gigantic open-access database of species occurrence data from around the world.
iNaturalist – Crowdsourced species observations with photos, locations, and identification support.
India Biodiversity Portal – India-specific citizen science portal on biodiversity with species pages, maps, and observations.
eBird – Global birdwatching database with detailed observation checklists and trends.
OBIS (Ocean Biogeographic Information System) – Marine species occurrence data.
🧬 Genetics and Taxonomy
BOLD (Barcode of Life Data System) – DNA barcoding records of species.
GenBank – Nucleotide sequences, often used for genetic identification of species.
Encyclopedia of Life (EOL) – Species information including taxonomy, distribution, and media.
ITIS (Integrated Taxonomic Information System) – Authoritative taxonomic info, mainly for North America.
🛰️ Remote Sensing and Environmental Data
MODIS / NASA Earthdata – Satellite data on vegetation, land cover, fires, etc.
Global Forest Watch – Forest cover, loss, and gain data based on satellite imagery.
NOAA Climate Data Records – Atmospheric, oceanic, and climate-related datasets.
🐾 Camera Trap and Movement Data
Movebank – Open-access database for animal movement (GPS collar) data.
Wildlife Insights – Global camera trap image database, AI-assisted.
PanTHERIA – Ecological and life-history data of mammals.
🌿 Botanical and Ecological Datasets
TRY Plant Trait Database – Global plant trait data.
Tropicos (Missouri Botanical Garden) – Botanical information with herbarium specimen records.
ForestGEO (Smithsonian) – Long-term forest monitoring data across the globe.
🌊 Marine and Aquatic Life
FishBase – Comprehensive fish species database.
SeaLifeBase – Same as FishBase but for all non-fish aquatic life.
Reef Life Survey – Citizen science marine biodiversity data.
📚 Literature and Traditional Knowledge
Digital Himalaya Project – Ethnographic and ecological archives.
Ethnobotanical Database – Plant use in indigenous and traditional medicine.
“Do or Die. We shall either free India or die in the attempt,” Mahatma Gandhi told fellow leaders of the movement for India’s independence on 8 August 1942. These words launched the Quit India movement. Although Gandhi and many other leaders were arrested within hours of his speech, with the expectation that without their leadership the resistance movement would be rudderless, the effect was the opposite. Thousands of Indians, young and old, heeded this call and plunged into the movement, each contributing in their own way.
The sweeping movement continued to gain strength in many forms, culminating in India becoming an independent nation on 15 August 1947. Even today, after almost eight decades there are as many stories as there were people then, about how every Indian played his or her part in this movement.
One of the women who picked up the mantle of leadership in the vacuum left by the arrests following Gandhi’s speech on 8 August was Aruna Asaf Ali who went on to play a significant part in Indian politics, even after Independence.
Aruna Ganguly was born on 16 July 1909 in a liberal upper class Bengali family which had migrated to the United Provinces (now Uttar Pradesh). After graduating from a missionary school and college Aruna started working as a teacher at Calcutta’s Gokhale Memorial School. It was here that she met Asaf Ali, a progressive barrister. Despite family opposition on grounds of differences in age and religion, Aruna married him in 1928. Her family practically ostracised her.
Asaf Ali was a prominent member of the Indian National Congress, and Aruna too soon began to meet and mingle with many nationalist leaders of the day. It was natural that she became actively engaged in the ongoing freedom struggle. Two years after her marriage, she was jailed during the Salt Satyagraha. Her popularity and leadership qualities were already emerging. Apprehensive about this, the colonial authorities did not release her when other political prisoners were released in 1931. They did not anticipate that her detention would raise a great public outcry; and that all the women prisoners would refuse to be released unless Aruna was released. It took Gandhiji’s personal intervention to secure her release.
The following year Aruna was again arrested and imprisoned in Tihar jail. Here too she led a hunger strike to protest against the treatment to political prisoners. She was moved to solitary confinement in Ambala jail.
By the time Gandhiji gave his Quit India call, Aruna had already been active in the movement for over a decade. The country-wide crackdown against nationalist leaders in 1942 left a leadership vacuum which could have aborted the momentum. Aruna stepped in; she presided over the rest of the Indian National Congress (INC) session, and on 9 August she rushed forward and unfurled the flag of Independence at Gowalia Tank Maidan in Bombay. News of this flag-hoisting spread like wildfire. Aruna and a group of INC workers went underground. The British government posted a reward for her capture but she successfully evaded arrest for three years. Her property was seized and sold.
Even in hiding, Aruna continued to contribute to the movement through use of underground radio, pamphlets, and the Congress’s monthly magazine Inquilab. During this period she was unwell and became frail. When other Congress leaders came out of prison, Aruna refused to come out of hiding and give herself up. Gandhiji wrote her a personal note expressing concern about her frail health and urging her to surrender and use the prize money offered by the British for the cause of Harijans. Aruna respectfully declined to do so. Gandhi always had great respect for Aruna’s personal bravery, but did not always approve of her tactics. She had a strong independent streak and high ideals.
Aruna finally came out of hiding in 1947 and returned to active political life. She was elected president of the Delhi Pradesh Congress Committee. However she quit the Congress party in 1948 and joined the Socialist Party, and later became a member of the Communist Party of India. She went on to leave this in 1956, but she retained her leftist leanings and spent the rest of her life in fighting for causes of the unprivileged, underrepresented, and exploited sections of society. She supported with revolutionary zeal the upliftment of women through education and better health care. Her politics was always more a matter of the heart than the head. Her frail physique belied her incredible inner strength.
Aruna was elected Delhi’s first woman mayor in 1958, and led the way for major civic reforms. But unable to handle the petty politicking, she resigned. She never again contested elections or took up a government post. She passed away in 1996 at the age of 87 years. Till the end of her life she lived in a one-bedroom apartment. She continued to mobilise support for social reforms, working for the rights of women, the poor and downtrodden. She actively helmed the Patriot newspaper and weekly magazine Link. She was awarded the International Lenin Peace Prize in 1964. She was honoured with the Padma Vibhushan in 1992, and posthumously awarded the Bharat Ratna in 1997.
Aruna Asaf Ali, frail but feisty, was one of Gandhiji’s Women Warriors, part of an inspiring band of women from all walks of life who fought not only for the freedom of their country, but equally for the rights of its women to live as free, fearless, and empowered citizens of India.
It finds its place in every home, on all travels, and as a trusted friend at work. The green tube is its timeless identity and it is virtually a panacea for all ills—chapped lips, small cuts, pimples, grazed knees, as soother or smoother… It can be found in first aid kits, home medicine cabinets, handbags, and suitcases. It is Boroline, unchanged over time, and with faithful fans across all generations.
While most of us have grown up taking its presence for granted, this unobtrusive but ubiquitous tube is more than just a cream. It is an early manifestation of the spirit of Swadeshi, and continues to be a lasting symbol of Make in India. I recently discovered this, and many facets of this comforting cream.
The non-cooperation movement against the British Rule embraced many strategies to demonstrate peaceful resistance including marches, rallies, boycott and bonfires of foreign goods. There was a demand for goods which were locally made, but not much availability of these. It was in this climate that Gourmohon Dutta, a prominent member of the business community in Calcutta decided that he would play his part in the movement against foreign goods in a different way than simply through protests. He established a company called GD Pharmaceuticals which aimed to produce high-quality medicinal products to replace similar products being imported at the time.
In 1929, GD Pharmaceuticals Pvt. Ltd began to manufacture a cream which was visualized as an ‘antiseptic cream’. The formula for this included tankan amla (boric acid) which is an antiseptic; lanolin which is a soothing agent; jasad bhasma (purified zinc oxide), which is a sun screen and astringent; paraffin; oleum (essential oils) and perfume. The cream was packaged in a green tube which had the symbol of a small elephant as its logo.
The name Boroline was derived from its ingredients: ‘Boro’ from boric powder, and ‘olin’ as a variant of the Latin word oleum, meaning oil. The logo symbolized the qualities of steadfastness and strength that an elephant stood for, as well as its auspicious significance, to bestow luck and success. It was so successful that in rural areas Boroline was known as the ‘hathiwala cream’ (cream with the elephant).
Perhaps the most ardent adherents of this cream were the Bengalis for whom the brand represented dependability and nationalism. One of the advertising radio jingles for the cream, originally in Bengali, and then adapted to Hindi, became an earworm that even today, can transport a generation to another time.
There was a brief period when, due to shortages during World War II, the cream could not be marketed in the familiar packaging, but an accompanying note reassured customers that the product was the same.
In the years leading to Independence, Boroline emerged as a symbol of resilience and self-sufficiency. A true blue swadeshi product which would go on to become an intrinsic part of households across the country, even in the decades following Independence.
By 1947 Boroline had become a household name that besides its multiple uses, stood as a symbol of patriotic entrepreneurship. As a tribute to this customer support, on India’s first Independence Day, 15 August 1947, the company is believed to have advertised that it would distribute one lakh free tubes of Boroline.
Today, almost eight decades later the swadeshi cream has its faithful followers, even under the deluge of high-end skincare products, which promise miracles. A recent piece by a young model in the fashion magazine Vogue describes Boroline as the ultimate ‘go-to’ in all situations, reinforcing the unwavering role that this cream continues to plays even today. The company has also diversified into a few other products, but none has the same kind of brand recall as Boroline.
While the basic packaging, colour and logo of this cream have not changed, its mother company GD Pharmaceuticals has moved with the times. Starting with production in a small manufacturing unit in a hamlet just outside Kolkata, and which continues to function today, there is a second facility near Ghaziabad. The factories are fully automated, and production processed are meticulously monitored. The company adheres to all mandatory government regulations and complies with Good Manufacturing Practices (GMP). All packaging materials used are recyclable and the waste produced is biodegradable. Just as the brand denotes integrity, the company also takes its social responsibility role seriously, and continues to be committed to serving the nation.
August is a significant month in the history of India’s freedom movement. The first Swadeshi Movement was officially launched in Bengal in 1905, on 7 August. The Quit India movement started on 8 August 1942. India became an Independent nation on 15 August 1947. This is a good time to celebrate Boroline, the swadeshi cream.
Once upon a time—before HR departments and LinkedIn profiles—jobs came with titles so evocative, so oddly poetic, they sound like characters straight out of a Dickensian drama or a Ruskin Bond vignette. While today’s professions lean towards the ultra-pragmatic and descriptive, many titles of the past came with a whiff of romance. For example: the Remembrancer.
Yes, the Remembrancer. Not an app. Not a diary. A person. One whose very profession was to remember. Specifically, to remind monarchs and magistrates of important affairs—debts, legislation, ceremonies. A Remembrancer was originally an official tasked with reminding a monarch or government body about matters of state, legal affairs, or financial obligations. The title comes from the idea of “remembering” important business that required attention.
The City Remembrancer of London–a post dating back to 1571–still exists, quietly observing proceedings in Parliament, tucked behind the Speaker’s Chair. We can’t help but picture him as an elderly gentleman in an impeccably cut coat. who acts as a liaison between the City of London and Parliament. Their duties include monitoring legislation that might affect the City, representing the City at ceremonial functions, and advising on constitutional matters. The Remembrancer also attends the State Opening of Parliament and sits in a specially designated place in the House of Lords.
It is not just the UK. India too continues something that must have started in colonial times. We still have Legal Remembrancers in our legal system, primarily at the state level. They play a crucial role in advising the government on legal matters and representing the state in court proceedings. The Legal Remembrancer (or Remembrancer of Legal Affairs) is a government official who acts as the chief legal advisor to the state government.
Even quainter are the roles that seem to exist simply to add charm to history books. The Ale Conner who tested beer for public consumption. The Knocker-Up who tapped windows with a stick to wake people up before alarm clocks were invented.
Saggar Maker’s Bottom Knocker is not a Victorian insult; it is an occupation. In pottery, a saggar is the box which holds the clay which is being fired. By placing various substances in a saggar, dramatic effects can be produced on the finished pottery. A master-craftsman called a saggar maker made the saggars. But bases of the saggars were produced mechanically and did not require much skill. They were left to young apprentices called bottom knockers, as they literally knocked them into shape.
While a Computist might bring visions of those working on advanced computer programmes, in the old days, these were people charged with calculating Easter based on lunar cycles—part astronomer, part theologian. An alternative term for jyotish?
A Lector was a person who used to read out Karl Marx or pulp fiction to cigar workers in Cuba while they rolled tobacco leaves by hand.
Resurrectionists or resurrection men were body-snatchers who would steal fresh corpses and sell them to medical schools for students to practice dissection. This trade flourished at the end of the 18th and beginning of the 19th centuries in Britain as a result of a lack of bodies to dissect in these schools. Organised criminal gangs would steal recently buried bodies, or acquire dead bodies before burial, and then sell them at a premium to anatomy teachers who used them to demonstrate dissection and also give students a chance to try dissecting themselves, as this was a required part of medical training. The widespread practice of body snatching led to the Anatomy Act in Britain, which legalized the use of unclaimed bodies for anatomical study.
We can’t help but wonder what future historians will make of us. “Brand Evangelist,” they might scoff. “Was that a missionary or a marketer?” “Content Creator—was that a novelist or a TikToker?”
Perhaps some titles are best left in the mists of time, to be stumbled upon in dusty libraries or trivia nights. But wouldn’t it be something to bring a few back? A ceremonial Remembrancer for family birthdays, perhaps? A Beadle to enforce silence during Zoom calls?
Till then, we’ll sip our tea like old scribes, toast to forgotten vocations, and remember to remember the Remembrancers.
My first and recent encounter with the wonderfully romantic word ‘remembrancer’ was not in a pleasant context. A Haryana committee which recommended the appointment of Vikas Barnala, an accused in a stalking case, to the position of assistant advocate general in the office of advocate general, included a Remembrancer.
July 20 is a day with special significance for humanity. It is Moon Day—it commemorates the day humans first set foot on the Moon in 1969—a moment that changed forever human imagination, and our relationship to the rest of the universe.
For many of us, the Moon is far more than a historic rock in the sky. It has always fascinated us. It is companion, compass, calendar, and comfort. It’s poetic, scientific, spiritual, and personal. Whether it is its influence on tides or moods or menstrual cycles—there’s no denying its pull on our lives. It is a part of folklore—in India, a part of the family, with the moon referred to as Chanda mama.
India is writing its own Moon story, with the first manned flight planned for 2027. Grp. Captain Shukla’s sojourn at the International Space Station is part of this preparation. But we have chalked up some notches already:
In 2008, Chandrayaan-1 confirmed the presence of water molecules on the Moon—yes, our lunar scout found signs of water where many others hadn’t.
Chandrayaan-2 in 2019 didn’t land as planned, but gave us valuable data.
And then came Chandrayaan-3 in 2023 when India became the first country to successfully land near the Moon’s south pole—a scientific and symbolic triumph.
This is India’s contemporary moon-story. Here is a beautiful ancient one.
The Rabbit in the Moon: A Buddhist Tale
One of the most enduring tales about the moon is of the rabbit in the Moon, a story rooted in Buddhist Jataka tradition and echoed across generations.
Long ago, the story goes, a kind and gentle rabbit lived in the forest. One day, Lord Indra came down disguised as a hungry old man, asking for food. The rabbit, seeing he had nothing else to offer, jumped into the fire to offer himself as a meal. Touched by this ultimate act of generosity, Indra rescued the rabbit and immortalised him on the Moon—his shape etched forever in the lunar light.
Even today, if you look closely on a clear full moon night, you can make out the shape of a rabbit crouched gently on the surface. Some say he’s still keeping watch. Some say he’s a reminder of kindness and quiet courage.
So on the July 20th, look up at the moon, wonder at its beauty, and ponder the words of some wise people:
“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
—Buddha
“Don’t tell me the sky is the limit when there are footprints on the moon.”
—Paul Brandt
“The moon is the first milestone on the road to the stars.”
—Arthur C. Clarke
“Always remember we are under the same sky, looking at the same moon.”
—Maxine Lee
“The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.” ― Deng Ming-Dao
–Meena
Next week, some more explorations related to the moon.
Having been associated for long with Vikram A. Sarabhai Community Science Centre (VASCSC), the pioneering science centre in the country, I always source STEM education materials and kits from them.
A few weeks ago, we received one such package I had ordered. The wonderful thing about VASCSC material is that they don’t let an inch of space go to waste. So the large envelope in which the kit came was also printed with any number of science games and puzzles.
The one that my 6 year old grand daughter and I really had fun with was the Stroop Effect.
It was all giggles as she held out the sheet with a bunch of words and asked me to look at them. The word “RED” was written in bright blue ink. She asked me to say the colour, not the word..
“Red!” I said instinctively.
“No!” she giggled. “It’s blue ! You have to say the colour of the ink!”
Oh.
And just like that, we stumbled headfirst into the Stroop Effect—a clever little quirk of our brains first identified by psychologist John Ridley Stroop in 1935. Stroop, an American psychologist conducted a series of studies as part of his PhD research. He was fascinated by how automatic processes—like reading—can interfere with other tasks, such as identifying colours. In his now-famous experiment, he showed that when colour words (like “red” or “green”) were printed in mismatched ink colours, people took longer to name the ink colour. This delay, or interference, revealed something profound about how our brains handle conflicting information.
So what is the Stroop Effect?
The classic version of the Stroop test asks you to name the colour of the ink in which a different colour name is written. Like the word “Green” printed in red ink. Sounds simple, right? But our brains are wired to read words so automatically that it slows us down, or even trips us up, when the word and the ink colour don’t match.
This interference between what we read and what we see is a fascinating peek into how our minds juggle competing bits of information.
Why does it matter?
What seems like a party trick actually has deeper implications. Psychologists use the Stroop test to study attention, processing speed, and cognitive control. In clinical settings, it helps assess brain injuries, dementia, and even ADHD. The longer it takes for a person to respond correctly, the more it can reveal about how their brain is functioning.
But even beyond labs and clinics, understanding the Stroop Effect has very real applications.
Take driving, for instance. Ever noticed how highway signs use simple fonts and colours? Imagine if a stop sign said “Go” in red letters—confusing, right? Designers rely on principles like those revealed by the Stroop Effect to make sure our brains process the right cue first.
It’s not just colours and words
Once you start noticing, these mental speed bumps are everywhere. Consider this: we all know that when we try rubbing our stomach with one hand and patting our head with the other, we run into hilarious situations. It is tricky, because your brain is trying to coordinate two conflicting patterns of movement. That’s a bit like motor interference, another cousin in the Stroop family.
Or think of the McGurk Effect, where what you see affects what you hear. If a video shows someone saying “ga,” but the sound is “ba,” your brain may hear “da.” Vision wins over sound, just like reading wins over colour in the Stroop test.
And then there is change blindness—when something in a visual scene changes, and we don’t notice because our attention is elsewhere. Magicians depend a lot on this trick, as also UX designers, who try to guide user attention in websites and apps using visual cues.
A lesson in humility
For me, discovering the Stroop Effect was a gentle reminder that our brains, for all their wonder, are not infallible. They’re predictably imperfect, prone to biases and blind spots. Well, that makes life more exciting!
Millennial Matriarchs 
