Category: Mamata Pandya

CELEBRATING OCEANS: RACHEL CARSON

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The first week of June has two significant days that relate to the environment. World Environment Day (WED) on 5 June and World Oceans Day (WOD) on June 8. While desertification was the focus of WED, the themes of WOD emphasized the importance of working together to find solutions to ocean challenges.

Historically one name has been associated both with WED as well as WOD. Rachel Carson is probably best known for her book Silent Spring, one of the first that warned of dangers to all natural systems from the misuse of chemical pesticides such as DDT. Published in 1962, this initiated the contemporary environmental movement. Over the years Silent Spring became one of the essential readings and references for environmentalists and ecologists.

What is perhaps less known is that for a decade before she wrote Silent Spring, Rachel had already published three books, as well as numerous articles, on the subject that was dear to her heart—the Seas and Oceans. Rachel’s work was unusual in that it combined a solid base of science that she communicated in beautiful language and style, making for a rare combination of nature and literature.

Rachel’s love for nature stemmed from her early years in a rural community where she freely explored her surroundings, and also expressed her thoughts through her other passion—writing. Rachel Carson was born on 27 May 1907 in Springdale, Pennsylvania. After High School, in 1925, Rachel joined Pennsylvania College for Women as an English major determined to become a writer. Midway through her studies, however, she switched to biology. A summer fellowship at the U.S. Marine Laboratory in Woods Hole, Massachusetts was her first close experience with the ocean. In 1929, Carson was awarded a scholarship to study at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, an enormous accomplishment for a woman at that time. Graduating with a Master’s degree in Zoology in 1932, and with a flair for writing, Rachel began to work for the public education department of the US Bureau of Fisheries writing pamphlets on conservation and natural resources. This was the start of her long career as scientist and editor, eventually rising to become Editor-in-Chief of all publications for the US Fish and Wildlife Service.

In 1935 she was asked to create a series of short radio programmes on marine life called Romance Under the Waters. Her growing interest in oceans and marine life was supported by the opportunity to visit waterfronts and marine environments, access to scientific information, and interaction with a range of people associated with different aspects of the oceans as part of her work. During World War II, Rachel Carson was part of a programme to investigate undersea life, terrain and sounds, designed to assist the Navy in developing techniques and equipment for submarine detection. Thus Rachel had the opportunity to study many aspects of oceans.

In her free time, Rachel also wrote about findings from this research in a language and style that would reach beyond the academics to a larger audience. She wrote several articles for popular magazines, designed to create wider awareness about the wonder and beauty of the living world. As she once said: I have always wanted to write. Biology has given me something to write about. She also believed that science and literature could meld harmoniously. The winds, the sea, and the moving tides are what they are. If there is wonder and beauty and majesty in them, science will discover these qualities… If there is poetry in my book about the sea, it is not because I deliberately put it there, but because no one could write truthfully about the sea and leave out the poetry.


Rachel Carson’s first book, Under the Sea-Wind, was published in 1941. In 1951 she published her prize-winning study of the ocean, The Sea Around Us. The book remained on the New York Times bestseller list for 81 weeks.

In 1952 Carson resigned from government service to devote herself to her writing, but also for the freedom that she would have as not being a part of the government, to raise issues, question government policies, and use her public voice to create awareness and encourage action.

In 1955 she published The Edge of the Sea. These books established Rachel Carson as both a naturalist and science writer for the public. But it was her final book, Silent Spring, published in 1962, that awakened society to a responsibility to other forms of life. In it, Carson documented in minute biological detail the harm caused to the ecosystem by harmful pesticides, especially DDT. The book was based on years of her research which indicated that the abnormalities caused by the pesticide showed up first in fish and wildlife, and went on to endanger the overall environment. As expected, Carson’s book provoked a huge controversy, as well as personal attacks on her professional integrity. The pesticide industry mounted a massive campaign to discredit her. The federal government, however, ordered a complete review of its pesticide policy and Rachel Carson testified before a Congressional committee, calling for new policies to protect human health and the environment. As a direct result of the Carson’s study and her making it public through Silent Spring, DDT was banned in the United States.

Despite her earlier noteworthy studies of the marine environment Rachel Carson’s name became synonymous with Silent Spring and DDT.

Rachel Carson died in 1964 after a long battle against breast cancer.

The theme for this year’s World Oceans Day is Waves of Change: Collective Actions for the Ocean. It would be worthwhile this year to revisit Rachel Carson’s books on the sea which seem as relevant today as they were when she wrote them in the 1950s. Carson’s ecological vision of the oceans demonstrates a larger environmental ethic which drew attention to the threats to the sustainability of nature’s interactive and interdependent systems. Her writing presages Climate change, rising sea-levels, melting Arctic glaciers, collapsing bird and animal populations, crumbling geological faults. All of which are dire realities today.

–Mamata

A Tree for all Reasons: Khejri

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5 June has been marked annually as World Environment Day (WED). First held in 1973, and led by the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), WED is the largest global platform for environmental public outreach and is celebrated by millions of people across the world. This year, 2024, the kingdom of Saudi Arabia is hosting the global celebrations.

The focus of this year’s WED is land restoration, desertification and drought resilience.

As the world is seeing rapid advances in desertification, and land degradation, propelled by climate change, it is useful to go back and see nature’s in-built mechanisms for coping with such conditions. 

Khejri tree

Plants that grow in arid areas have special ways of dealing with extreme heat or cold, and other desert conditions.  Desert plants fall into three categories according to the way they deal with the problem of surviving in arid or extremely arid conditions.

Drought evaders: Plants which remain as seeds in the sand, but are ready to spring up when it rains, to flower quickly, to produce another crop of seeds and die again. These are known as ephemerals.

Drought resisters: Plants which have evolved various ways of storing water, locating underground water or reducing their need for water by such methods as shedding their leaves. These are known as perennials. They manage to live from one rainy season to another.

Drought-endurers: Plants which have the capacity to tolerate drought for a longer period by adapting through condensed growth, small-sized leaves and very deep root system.

These natural adaptations have enabled these plants, over millennia, to grow in some of the toughest of conditions. In turn, these plants have also played an important role in supporting other life, including human life, in desert conditions. Perhaps no plant better exemplifies this than the Khejri tree.  

Khejri or Prosopis cineraria is a tree that grows in the dry and arid regions of India and West Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iran where summers are very hot, winters are harsh, and rainfall is scant. It has a variety of common names in different states of India. Khejri or sangria (Rajasthan), jand (Punjab), kandi (Sindh), sami, sumri (Gujarat). Its trade name is kandri.

A moderate-sized evergreen thorny tree, with light bluish-green foliage, its sturdy older branches, and slender tender branches have conical thorns. It sprouts freely from the base, producing a fresh growth of leaves around March. Soon after the new leaves, the small yellow, creamy white flowers appear. These, in turn, give way to pods.

This drought-resister tree has a range of adaptations that enable it to grow well in highly arid and harsh conditions, where other plants cannot survive. It grows on a variety of soils, including moderately saline soils. It has a long and well-developed root system. This serves two purposes; it provides firm anchorage and also aids in obtaining moisture supplies from deep down. Its foliage also helps to absorb moisture from the rains, as and when there is rainfall. 

The roots are a life saver not only for the tree, but are equally valuable for the environment in which the tree lives. The extensive root system helps to stabilize shifting sand dunes. The tree is useful as a windbreak shelter, and in afforestation of dry areas. It fixes nitrogen through microbial activity, and its leaf litter decomposition adds organic matter thus rejuvenating poor soils.

Often being the only kind of tree that grows in the arid conditions, the tree also provides much needed shade and shelter to local farmers, as well as livestock. Prosopis cineraria is a much valued fodder tree, which provides nutritious and highly palatable green as well as dry fodder which is readily eaten by camels, cattle, sheep and goats. Its dead leaves are fed to cattle to improve milk yield. Its dry pods are also nutritious animal feed. The pods are also eaten, in green as well as dry forms, by people who have scant access to a variety of fresh vegetables for much of the year.

The tree’s wood is suitable for construction, and is used locally for numerous purposes including making agricultural implements and tool handles, water pipes, yoke and spokes of carts. The high calorific value of the wood also makes it an efficient fuel wood. The bark of the tree is dry and acrid with a sharp taste. The bark extract is believed to have anti-inflammatory properties, and is used in traditional medicine to treat rheumatism, cough and colds, and asthma, as well as scorpion sting. The pod is also believed to have astringent properties.

A popular saying in the Thar desert encapsulates the value of the khejri. Death will not visit humans, even at the time of famine, if they have a khejri, a goat and a camel, since the three together help sustain humans even under the most trying conditions. 

Thus for millennia the people of the Thar have revered the khejri as such a critical part of their lives. And they have given up their own lives to save the trees that sustain their lives.

Nothing highlights this better than the story of Amrita Devi and the Bishnois, or Twenty-niners, a sect that lived by simple tenets: Do not cut any green tree, do not kill any animal or bird, respect every living being, it has as much right to life as we humans do.

Amrita Devi’s story dates back to 1730.  The then Maharaja of Jodhpur, Abhay Singh, wanted to build a new palace for which he required wood. He sent his soldiers to a village to cut down some khejri trees. But this was a Bishnoi village. For hundreds of years, generations of villagers had nurtured and protected their vegetation, land and wildlife. One of the villagers was churning butter when she heard the commotion. Her name was Amrita Devi. She saw the men sharpening their axes and her mind flashed back to her childhood. She remembered how, every morning, she would respectfully greet  all the khejri trees and choose a special one for that day; she would hug it and thank it for all the gifts that it gave her and her people. Every child in the village had their own special tree.

Now the trees were in danger. Amrita Devi ran and confronted the axe men. She pleaded with them: “Leave our trees. They are our brothers and sisters, our village protectors. They are the breath of life, the water we drink, and our food.”

The axe men paid her no heed. They continued with their task. Amrita Devi hugged a tree. “Chop me first” she said, “take my life and leave my tree.” The axe men tore her away, but Amrita Devi was back at her tree, clinging for dear life. She did not let go of her tree; the axe men had to chop through her body to get to the tree. No sooner did Amrita fall than hundreds of villagers, young and old, rushed to the trees. Each one hugged a khejri tree. The king’s men continued to chop through them, until 363 people lay dead at the feet of the trees they hugged to save.

When the king heard of the incident, he could not believe that people would lay down their lives for trees. He personally visited the village to meet these people. They said: “The trees can survive without us, but we cannot survive without the trees.” The king was deeply moved the faith and humility of these people. He proclaimed that from then on no Bishnoi village would be called upon to provide timber or wildlife by hunting. Almost three centuries later, the Bishnoi community is intact. The twenty-nine tenets continue to live, even as the khejri trees give life to the land and its people. Amrita’s village came to be known as Khejarli after the trees she gave her life for.

Amrita Devi’s name is synonymous with her sacrifice. In 2001, a national award (the Amrita Devi Bishnoi Wildlife Protection Award) was created in her honour, to recognize people who had contributed to environmental conservation.

This World Environment Day, as the world looks ahead to combatting desertification, it is humbling to look back and remember the story of Amrita Devi and the khejri trees.

–Mamata

Cicada Summer

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In many countries, ranging from America to Japan, the song of the cicadas heralds summer. This summer, cicadas are making headlines in the United States which is bracing up for a cacophony of noise as trillions of cicadas are due to emerge in a rare synchronized event that occurs only once in a couple of hundred years.

Periodical cicada
Source: Getty images

Cicada species have been around for a long time. The oldest cicada fossils are from the Triassic period, where they may have buzzed around the dinosaurs. Cicadas are members of the superfamily Cicadoidea. A cicada has a stout body, a broad head with two large compound eyes on both sides, and clear-membraned wings. Cicadas have modified mouthparts to feed on liquids rather than solid material. Larvae suck juices from plant roots, while adults suck fluids from woody shrubs and trees. While all cicadas have the same basic body shape, they come in all sorts of sizes and colour.

The most defining feature of cicadas is not in their form but in the sound that the male cicadas make to attract female partners. This sound is produced by the movement of specialized structures on each side of the abdomen called tymbals. Tymbals are thin membranous structures streaked with marginally thicker ribs. A muscle pulls these ribs inward and then releases them, resulting in a sharp sound. Rapid repetition of this action at a speed of 300 to 400 times per second generates the distinctive song of the cicada. The cicada’s body is like a hollow musical instrument, similar to a violin or guitar, with air-filled pockets that act like echo chambers, amplifying the sound. Varying body sizes produce different sound frequencies. Each species has its own specific call. In answer to the male’s song, the female cicada replies with a soft click.

Despite having no vocal chords and no lungs, male cicadas are the loudest insects in the world. While poets may wax eloquent about the song of the cicada, the decibel level of the cicada chorus can be deafening. The intensity of the sound can be as high 120 decibels, the decibel level of a jet engine!

Cicadas have a fascinating lifecycle. The male attracts the female with his powerful song which reverberates through the air. The female arrives, and after the mating, she makes slits in tree branches and lays her eggs. The eggs hatch six to seven weeks later. The emerging young ones look like termites, and stay on the plant, feeding on sap till they are ready to drop down to the ground. This marks the beginning of the next stage of their lifecycle. Tunnelling through the earth with their powerful front legs, the nymphs burrow and build chambers deep in the soil, living a major part of their lives underground, feeding on roots, till they are finally ready to emerge as adults. Once they crawl back onto the surface, the nymphs shed their exoskeletons, and start flapping their wings. They spend the next six weeks or so of their adult life, making a cacophony to attract mates, so that the eggs can be laid before they die

This trait of disappearing distinguishes cicadas from most other insects. While all species of cicadas disappear underground, different species have different cycles of emergence. There are annual cicadas which emerge once a year, or once very couple of years, and periodical cicadas which spend most of their lives underground, and emerge, en masse every 13 or 17 years to mate and start the cycle over again. Of the 3,400 species of cicadas in the world, only nine species are known to have developed the habit of disappearing underground for years at a time and then emerging en masse simultaneously.

It is this cycle of disappearance and reappearance that has symbolically linked cicadas with rebirth and transformation in some cultures. In China during the Han Dynasty, jade cicadas were placed on the tongue as part of the burial ceremony to ensure that the departed have voices in their afterlife. Some Native American tribes believe that cicadas emerge from the earth, bringing with them an opportunity to renew their relationship with nature and their ancestors.

India has approximately 250 species of annual cicadas, but only one species of periodic cicada, the Chremista ribhoi in Meghalaya that emerges once in four years. Forests in all parts of India are abuzz with cicada sounds, especially before the rains begin, thus here cicadas are associated with the monsoon. A curious tale related to cicadas is that when, in 1847, an Englishman discovered a forest area in Kerala, he found it to be completely devoid of cicada sounds, and thus so quiet, that he named it Silent Valley.

This summer several parts of the United States will witness the once-in-lifetime phenomenon of the simultaneous emergence of billions of cicadas from two different broods of cicadas—one that lives a 13-year cycle and one that has a 17-year cycle. This rare synchronized event last occurred in 1803. This is causing much excitement among scientists as well as others, who will witness (as well as hear) this rare event—a cicada summer to remember!

–Mamata

Lady With the Lens: Homai Vyarawalla

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The past few weeks, as India goes through its massive election exercise, the newspapers have been carrying iconic photographs that show glimpses from past elections. For many of us who are firmly part of the ‘morning newspaper’ generation, these black and white images bring back memories of what feels like another age. These pictures capture not only candid shots that evoke nostalgia, but are also telling stories of different life and times. The people behind most of these have been photojournalists. Photojournalists are described as visual storytellers who use photography to document and report on news events, current affairs, and human interest stories. While their camera lens captures, and freezes a particular moment, it is the record of these intrepid storytellers that make history.

A recent exhibition of one of India’s most renowned photojournalists, Raghu Rai presents some pages from this history. But this also reminds one of another name that made her own history. This is Homai Vyarawalla, India’s first woman photojournalist.

Homai Vyarawalla was born on 9 December 1913 in Navsari in Gujarat, in a Parsi family. She had a peripatetic childhood as her father was an actor with a traveling theatre group. The family eventually settled in Mumbai where Homai enrolled in the JJ School of Arts. When she was in her early teens Homai met Manekshaw Vyarawalla, a freelance photographer who first introduced her to photography. The two initially shared a Rollieflex camera, and developed their own films in a dark bathroom. Homai started taking pictures of her friends as she starting learning the ropes. Manekshaw submitted some of her photographs of a local picnic to The Bombay Chronicle for which he then worked, and these were published. Homai began to get some photographic assignments; however some of her works was published under Manekshaw’s name, as a woman photographer was not something people respected professionally. She began to draw more attention after her photographs of life in Mumbai were published in The Illustrated Weekly of India magazine. Later Homai also used the pseudonym Dalda 13 (DALD from the number plate of her car, and 13 which she believed was her lucky number!). Homai and Manekshaw were married in 1941.

With the outbreak of World War II, the British Information Services (BIS) relocated to India, and were recruiting photographers on the ground. The Vyarawallas were recommended for the job by the then editor of the Illustrated Weekly. The couple moved to Delhi in 1942, with Homai joining as a full-time employee, with freedom to also take on freelance projects. Homai’s art school training in visual composition added to her skills as a photographer. She worked for the BIS as an official press photographer till 1951, and as a freelancer till 1970. Always humble and polite, clad in a khadi sari and carrying a Rollieflex camera, Homai was indeed an unusual sight on the streets of Delhi.

Homai began covering not only events and ceremonies at the British High Commission, but also chronicling significant moments in the transitional phase from the end of the British Raj to India becoming an independent nation. Some of these events included the swearing in of Lord Mountbatten as the first Governor General of India in 1947, the first Republic Day Parade in 1950, visit of Jacqueline Kennedy’s visit to India in 1962. She covered Mahatma Gandhi’s funeral in 1948 but was regretful till the end of her life at having missed his last prayer meeting when he was assassinated.

Besides events, Homai’s camera captured nuances of faces and expressions of a host of personalities that shaped the 20th century. From Lord Mountbatten to Queen Elizabeth, Krushchev to Nixon, Sardar Patel to Dr Ambedkar, Mahatma Gandhi to Indira Gandhi, visiting personalities and their hosts were frozen for posterity in Homai’s frames. Jawaharlal Nehru was a favourite subject of Homai’s. Homai was still the rarity in India—a female photojournalist, and her work did not get the kind of attention that the work of a contemporary, Margaret Bourke-White, did for her pictures of Gandhiji.

Homai herself did not seek the limelight, she preferred that her photographs spoke for themselves. And indeed these pictures that span the first three decades of an Independent India continue to tell the stories that defined that era. In fact Homai never travelled out of India. Her first trip to the USA and UK  was when she accompanied her biographer on a speaking tour, at the age of 95 years.

Homai’s husband Manekshaw passed away in 1979. Losing her companion of forty years, Homai also gave up photography totally. She spent the last two decades of her life in Vadodara, leading a simple, quiet, secluded life until she passed away on 15 January 2012, at the age of 98. Homai was the recipients of several awards including the Padma Vibhushan in 2011. Homai gave away her entire collection of prints, negatives, cameras and other memorabilia to the Alkai Foundation for the Arts, on permanent loan for safekeeping and documentation.

As Raghu Rai said in a recent interview “If responsible journalism is the first draft of history, then photojournalism is the first evidence of that history being lived.” Homai Vyarawalla will always remain a preeminent chronicler of that history.

–Mamata

A Man of Many Parts

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May 1 is marked as International Labour Day to commemorate the struggles of workers, and labour movements, and celebrate their role in society. In Gujarat the day has an added significance as Gujarat Foundation Day. May 1 marks the day that two new states–Gujarat and Maharashtra were carved out of the erstwhile Bombay state in 1960.

One name that it intrinsically linked with this historic moment is that of Indulal Yagnik who spearheaded the movement for a separate state of Gujarat. Indulal was the founder president of the Mahagujarat Janata Parishad that launched the movement which came to be known as the Mahagujarat Movement, in 1956. But Indulal’s activism well preceded this phase of his life which spanned many significant periods in Indian political life. A life that was not limited to public engagement, but also covered a wide range of interests, and contributions including to journalism, literature, and films. 

Indulal was born in 1892 in Nadiad in Gujarat, and completed his higher education in Bombay, graduating with BA as well as LLB degrees. He chose the world of words rather than laws, and started his journey as a translator with Mumbai Samachar, a Gujarati daily, and as contributor to a well-known Gujarati monthly magazine. He began to associate with radical nationalists like Shankarlal Banker, and young lawyers like KM Munshi and BG Kher. He was also deeply influenced by Annie Besant and the Home Rule League, which advocated for self-government for India within the British Empire. In the meanwhile his own thinking was becoming more nonconformist in terms of social norms.

He was always a risk-taker. When Madam Bhikaji Cama became the first person to hoist the Indian tricolour on foreign soil at the International Socialist Conference at Stuttgart in Germany, on 22 August 1907, it was the young socialist Indulal Yagnik who smuggled that flag back to India.

Gandhi’s return to India from South Africa in 1914 drew Indulal into a new cause. By 1915, Indulal launched a Gujarati monthly along with his friends Shankarlal Banker, KM Munshi and Ranjitram Mehta. He contributed to the English magazine Young India and when Gandhi it took over, Indulal moved to Ahmedabad in 1915 to work for him.  

When the British government decided to dispatch a team of eight editors—four English and four Indians to Mesopotamia (now Iraq) in 1917 to investigate allegations of mistreatment of Indian soldiers during World War I, Indulal was selected as one of them.

In 1917, he was involved in famine relief in the villages of Ahmedabad district. Indulal was an active participant in Gandhi’s 1918 Kheda Satyagraha, a resistance movement against oppressive land taxes for farmers. He was also, with Gandhi, a part of the move to establish Gujarat Vidyapith, an institution of higher learning. He made Ahmedabad the base for his public and political activities, even as he travelled widely, connecting with the most downtrodden and oppressed communities.

While he was close to Gandhi and Sardar Patel, and worked tirelessly for the ongoing satyagraha movement, Indulal was a much more vociferous advocate of the rights of the marginalized and oppressed communities. This often created clashes of opinion and approach. He also had a fiery and mercurial temperament which led him to act impulsively. While in 1923 he had shared a prison cell with Gandhiji, in 1924 Indulal completely withdrew from nationalist activities and relocated to Bombay where he became editor of a communist-published paper. His socialist-communist perspective led him to write a harsh critique of the 1928 Bardoli Satyagraha in this paper.

Subsequently, he distanced himself from both communism as well as the nationalist struggle and the Congress party, and forayed into films. He began in 1926, by translating the titles for the film The Light of Asia into Gujarati. He then began writing about films for different magazines and newspapers, and himself wrote short stories for a few silent films. He even produced a few films. However his stint as a producer was neither successful nor profitable.

Indulal returned to the nationalist movement. This time he took on the role of championing its cause abroad. He travelled to Britain and Germany where he wrote articles and pamphlets. He also got involved with revolutionaries in Ireland and activists in England. He was in England when Gandhiji was attending the Second Round Table Conference in 1931.

After five years abroad Indulal returned to India in 1935. Now he became an active advocate for famers’ rights, and in 1936 was instrumental in the formation of the All India Kisan Sabha, and led the Gujarat chapter of the Kisan Sabha. The world was in the throes of the Second World War. His anti-war activities were deemed disruptive to public order and he was imprisoned in 1940. Upon release in 1941, he dedicated himself to establishing ashrams and schools in areas where there were none. The ashram that he established on the banks of the Vatrak river became his own base, and it is here that he celebrated India’s Independence on 15 August 1947.

When the movement for a separate state of Gujarat was gaining momentum in 1956, the activist in Indulal surfaced again. ‘Indu Chacha’ became the mover and shaker of the Mahagujarat Movement. During this period he once again distanced himself from the Congress party, and established a political party called Mahagujarat Janata Parishad, which achieved significant electoral success. The party was dissolved after the formation of Gujarat state on 1 May 1960. Indulal then founded the Nutan Mahagujarat Janata Parishad.

Indu Chacha was very popular himself, appealing to working class and middle class voters alike. He was elected from the Ahmedabad constituency to the Lok Sabha for four consecutive terms starting from 1957 to 1971. He continued to maintain his almost spartan lifestyle until he passed away in 1972.

Indulal’s life story was closely linked to the political events of Gujarat and the world of that time. His six-volume autobiography Atmakatha, written in phases at different points of his life, is a valuable resource to understand the socio-cultural and political history of Gujarat. He dedicated the book to the “bright and fragrant flower-like people” of Gujarat. As a fellow Gujarati, Indu Chacha’s story gives a peep into the people and events that led to the creation of Gujarat.

On a more personal note, Indu Chacha was a friend of my parents, and I have memories of his dropping in to see them when we lived in Delhi in the late sixties, and relishing hot jalebis with milk! He must have been in his last term as member of the Lok Sabha then. As the state of Gujarat goes to the polls next week, Indu Chacha is still remembered.

–Mamata

Words Maketh Books

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This week Meena wrote about World Book Day on 23 April. Not exactly coincidentally, this day is also marked as English Language Day. English Language Day is the result of a 2010 initiative by the UN’s Department of Global Communications, establishing language days for each of the Organization’s six official languages (English, French, Spanish, Chinese, Arabic, and Russian).The purpose of the UN’s language days is to celebrate multilingualism and cultural diversity, and to promote equal use of all six official languages throughout the Organization. English Language Day celebrates the English language and promotes its history, culture and achievements.

Books certainly come in all the languages of the world, but the very fact that we are, at this moment, reading and writing in English, is a testimony to the fact that English is indeed one of the languages that unites word lovers across the world. English is one of the languages of international communication; it enables people from different countries and cultures to communicate with each other in a common language, even if it is not their first language.

April 23, as English Language Day, celebrates the life and works of William Shakespeare, who not only died on this day, but is also believed to have been born on the same date in 1564. The day is a tribute to the enormous contribution that Shakespeare made to the English language.   

Shakespeare’s prodigious output of sonnets and plays was remarkable as a body of creative work. These literary works were expressed in thousands of words, many of which (1700 it is believed), he created himself! When he embarked on his literary marathon, there were no dictionaries that Shakespeare could dip into. The first such reference to meanings of words in English was A Table Alphabeticall that was published in 1604. Texts on grammar appeared only in the 1700s. Thus Shakespeare did not have ready resources which could be used to populate his vocabulary.

Scholars believe that Shakespeare’s vocabulary owed to a combination of sources. It is likely that he lent an alert ear to the commonly spoken language of the time, and drew words from there which were written into his plays and verses. Thus he can certainly be credited with the ‘first recorded uses’ of numerous words. But he was equally a master of wordplay. He coined new words himself, often by combining words (eye and ball to make eyeball) changing nouns into verbs (from ‘elbow’ to ‘elbow someone out’), adding prefixes and suffixes into preexisting words. He anglicised foreign words, such as creating ‘bandit’ from the Italian ‘banditto’, and the word ‘zanni’ which referred to characters in sixteenth-century Italian comedies who mimicked the antics of clowns and other performers, and used it as a noun–zany.

These introduced words were soon adopted into the English language, enriching it considerably.

I must admit that in my younger days, I did not take as easily to Shakespeare in the original as may have been done by the more “literary types” of my generation. Whatever Shakespeare we were exposed to was in the form of the ‘abridged and simplified’ versions that made their way into English language textbooks year after year. Yes, we knew that “a rose by any other name”, and  “all the world’s a stage” and “all’s well that ends well” was quintessentially Shakespeare, but I for one did not know that so many words that we use today, imagining them to be ‘contemporary’ language were coined and couched in William’s prose and poetry!

Here are some very ‘modern’ terms that first appeared in Shakespeare’s writing.

Addiction, assassination, auspicious, baseless, barefaced, bedroom, champion, cold-blooded, critic, elbow, fashionable, generous, gloomy, hint, hostile, lackluster, lonely, majestic, manager, obscene, overblown, puking, pious, radiance, reliance, skim milk, submerge, swagger, watchdog!

Here are some that have not travelled intact through the centuries. Today some of these are “Greek to us” (incidentally it is Shakespeare who first coined this phrase!).

Mobbled: With face muffled up, veiled.

Foison: Abundance, plenty, profusion

Ganesome: Sportive, merry, playful

Noddle: The back of the head

Fleshment: The excitement associated with a successful beginning

Gratulate: Greet, welcome, salute

Kicky-wicky: Girlfriend, wife

Bawcock: Fine fellow, good chap

Buzzer: Rumour-monger, gossiper

Gallimaufry: Complete mixture, medley, hotchpotch

Garboil: Trouble, disturbance, commotion

Miching: Sulking, lurking, sneaking

For Shakespeare “all the world was a stage” and he also coined a number of colloquial phrases that added drama to the dialogues of his many characters, from Romeo and Juliet to Othello, from the Merchant of Venice to Hamlet and Macbeth. These “as good luck would have it” continue to enrich our speech even today.

All that glisters is not gold

A sorry sight

Bated breath

Break the ice

Cold comfort

Come what may

Dead as a doornail

Devil incarnate

Eaten me out of house and home

Fair play

Green-eyed monster

Laughing stock

Naked truth

In a pickle

Seen better days

Set your teeth on edge

The world is my oyster

Too much of a good thing

Vanish into thin air

Wild-goose chase

What’s done is done

And, it is not Sherlock Holmes but Shakespeare who first said “the game is afoot!”

Shakespeare may be “as dead as a doornail” but he remains the most quoted writer in English of all time. How zany is that!

Well, words maketh a book, and Shakespeare maketh words!

–Mamata

A Mark of Citizenship

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When we were children, and very much into Enid Blyton’s mystery and adventure stories, a fascinating element in some of these was the notes/letters that appeared to be blank, but which revealed secret messages when warmed. The excitement was heightened when we ourselves tried to make ‘invisible ink’. This usually involved some lemon juice with which we wrote on paper. Once the juice dried, the paper appeared to be blank, until a hot iron was run over the paper, or it was placed close to the flame of a candle, upon which the words would slowly show up. Many a summer afternoon was spent in this ‘mystery’ activity, with much excitement and anticipation on the part of message writer and receiver!

These memories came back recently when another kind of ink is soon to be in the news, except that this ink is far from invisible, it is indelible! The purple mark on the forefinger is inextricable linked with election season. As soon as the voting process begins, this mark becomes the symbol of a citizen who has exercised their right, as well as duty, to participate in the process to vote-in a democratically-elected government. In a country like India in which millions across the country take part in the electoral process, this mark is a great common indicator of participation, as well identification. An inked finger identifies a voter not just when they emerge from the polling booth, but until the ink on the finger ‘wears’ off, a period that may last from a few days to a couple of weeks. The key word is ‘wears’ off rather than washes off. And that is where the search for, and use of, indelible ink in elections began.

In the early 1950s, in newly independent India, there was concern that fraudulent voting could upset a free and fair electoral process. There needed to be a common, easily applicable and low-cost way to ensure that the ‘one voter one vote’ principle was adhered to in letter and spirit.

Research on this started in the National Physical Laboratory of the Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR-NPL). The research and experiments led to the formulation of the chemical formula for indelible ink which could be used on the finger of a voter who has just cast their vote. This ink was unlike other inks that were commonly used to fill the fountain pens that were the main writing instruments of the day.  A key component in this special-formulated ink was silver nitrate which is photosensitive, it reacts when exposed to light (sunlight or even indoor light). The water-base ink also contained a solvent like alcohol which allowed for faster drying, as well as some other dyes. The composition was optimized such that it diffused into the skin spontaneously to make a mark which could not be chemically or mechanically manipulated. The precise proportions, formula and protocol for making this ink were a closely guarded secret, and was patented by the National Research Development Corporation (NRDC), New Delhi. But for the ink to be produced in vast quantities, it needed a professional ink-making company.

The NRDC approached Mysore Paints and Varnish Ltd. (MPVL) to manufacture and supply the ink. An agreement to this effect was signed by the Election Commission of India in collaboration with the National Physical Laboratory and NDRC with MVPL. The factory was established during 1937 by Maharaja Krishnaraja Wodeyar IV, then the Maharaja of Mysore province. It was originally called Mysore Lac and Paint Works Ltd.It was renamed as Mysore Paints and Varnish Ltd. (MPVL) in1989.

The original rationale behind the establishment of the factory was to provide employment opportunities for the local people, and for effective utilization of the natural resources of the forest, specifically lac, which was used for the manufacture of sealing waxes. Apart from lac, the factory manufactured paints which were supplied to Government departments, especially to the Defence Department, particularly for war tanks, during the early days.

The factory was converted into Public Limited Company during 1947 as one of the Public Sector Undertakings (PSU). The company continues to be among the prominent undertakings of the Government of Karnataka, meeting the requirements of PSUs, Central Government, State Government, PSUs, private industries and the paint dealers. Although the Company also manufactures and supplies industrial coating paints, decorative paints, wood polishes, varnish and thinners, the largest chunk of its output is the manufacture and supply of indelible ink for elections.

The indelible ink was used for the first time in Indian elections in 1962 and has MPVL has remained the sole supplier since then. MPVL initially supplied ink only for parliamentary and assembly elections, but over the years it has also been supplying ink for elections to municipal bodies and cooperative societies. The concentration of silver nitrate in the ink varies depending on its usage. For example, in 2017, MPVL was commissioned to manufacture special marker pens to mark children during the polio drops drive in South India. The silver nitrate ink used in these pens was less concentrated, keeping in mind that children are prone to put their finger in the mouth.

According to MPVL, the high-quality indelible ink dries out completely in less than 40 seconds, but it leaves its impression even after a one-second contact with skin. The ink darkens with exposure to light and can remain on the voter’s fingernail and skin for at least two days, and up to 3-4 weeks, depending on a person’s body temperature and the environment. It cannot be simply washed away mechanically, or removed by any known chemical or solvent.

As the ink is photo-sensitive, it needs to be protected from exposure to direct sun rays. Earlier it used to be stored in brown-coloured glass bottles; now amber-coloured plastic bottles are used. The bottles used are designed in such a manner so as to prevent any kind of reaction with sunlight until they are opened. The ink is distributed in 5 ml, 7.5 ml, 20 ml, 50 ml and 80 ml vials. A single 5 ml vial is sufficient for an approximated 300 voters. The Election Commission of India places orders for the ink based on the number of registered voters involved in the election. The ink is then supplied to the Chief Electoral Officers who subsequently distribute it to individual voting centres.

The MPVL is the sole supplier of voter’s ink in India since 1962. The PSU also exports the ink to at least 25 other countries including Canada, Ghana, Nigeria, Mongolia, Malaysia, Nepal, South Africa and the Maldives. This ink is made as per the respective country’s specific use of the ink.  For example, in Cambodia and the Maldives, voters need to dip their finger into the ink, while in Burkina Faso the ink is applied with a brush, and nozzles are used in Turkey.

So this election season, as we walk into a polling booth and walk out with the small purple line on our finger, we know what has gone into making this distinguishing mark!

–Mamata

Feisty Fighter: Jayaben Desai

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In the last few months there has been a lot of news about Junior and Senior doctors in the UK going on strike to draw attention to their demands. There are often pictures of the picketing medicos. These include a large number of Asian and other ‘non-white’ faces. Today the non-English population makes up a large portion of the work force in the UK. While there is a continuing stream of migrants making their way to the UK for higher education, and often continuing to work after their studies, there is an equal number of second generation immigrants who have made UK their home over the last century. These are the descendants of the first immigrants who laid the path for the future of this generation.

There are numerous stories of these early immigrants who arrived in a totally alien, and often hostile, environment but who by dint of hard work, struggle, and ambition fought all the odds. One such feisty lady is still remembered for breaking many barriers.

Jayaben Desai began her life in Gujarat in India, where she was born on 2 April 1933. She moved to Tanganyika after her marriage to Suryakant Desai a tyre-factory manager. There she led a comfortable life as part of the large community of British subjects of Indian origin who had long settled in East Africa. In the 1960s the situation changed with many of the newly-independent countries in East Africa moving towards “Africanisation’ policies which led to declining economic opportunities and security for the East African Asians. Many of these chose to move. As British passport holders they headed for Britain. Jayaben and her husband joined this exodus.

Life in Britain was very different. The new migrants did not enjoy the economic and social status that they had done in East Africa. Despite being British citizens they had to struggle at every step to establish new lives and livelihoods in an unwelcoming environment. Most of them were educated and professionally qualified, but in England they were compelled to take whatever work they could get; most of which was unskilled labour with poor wages. They faced a great deal of discrimination, racism and prejudice in every aspect of life.

As one of these women recalled: “There was no question of whether you wanted to or not – you had to work, so you did. And wherever you found work, you had to take it. It wasn’t that you were educated, so you only wanted certain kind of jobs – we had to work in factories and that’s how we brought up our children. …We used to have people working for us, and now we had to work for others. That’s life. …Of course I felt sad.”

Jayaben started part-time work as a sewing machinist in a sweatshop, while bringing up her two young children. She then moved to work at the Grunwick film processing factory in North-West London. Grunwick employed a large number of Asian women who were perceived as being hard working and submissive. The factory paid low wages, and was run in an atmosphere of fear and control, with workers being humiliated in many ways.

The simmering unrest began to surface when the managers sacked a young Indian worker, and three colleagues walked out in solidarity with him.  Soon after, on Friday 20 August 1976, Jayaben Desai was confronted with a short-notice demand for overtime.  She refused. The manager derogatively called her and her fellow workers “chattering monkeys”. She responded by telling the manager: “What you are running here is not a factory, it is a zoo.  There are many types of animals in a zoo.  Some are monkeys who dance to your tune, others are lions who can bite your head off.  We are those lions, Mr Manager.” 

Source: http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england

Jayaben and almost 100 other workers spontaneously walked out in protest. Thus far, previous strikes by black and Asian workers had not received the support of  trade unions. But the Grunwick strikers were supported by the Brent Trades Council; they were encouraged to form a union and received strike pay. Thus the strike was significant because it got trade union recognition, and also demonstrated the greatest solidarity So between the white and coloured working class.  As Jayaben stressed during the strike, ‘We will not back down now.  We want to bring this factory to a standstill.  Our fight is for all our rights, and for our dignity.  We hope all trade unionists will stand by us.’  

Jayaben, and the striking workers travelled across England and addressed workers in other factories and workplaces about their fight, and this managed to persuade trade unionists from far and wide to come to their aid. By June 1977, as support for the strikers grew, the size of the mass pickets increased from a few hundred to several thousands. The strike began in 1976 and continued for two long years until 1978. This was possible, as the strikers received strike pay from the trade unions, which was comparable to the low pay they received at Grunwick. It was highly unusual for that time for unions to support ethnic minority groups and migrant workers. But the response rattled the Labour government who put pressure on the Trade Unions leadership to withdraw support. This did not deter the strikers led by Jayaben who started a hunger strike in November 1977.  But even this action could not change the unions’ mind, and so they had to call off the strike. The strike came to an end without the workers getting their jobs back. However, one of its outcomes was the introduction of some concessions relating to existing and future workers’ pay and pensions.

As she later recalled: “Because of us, the people who stayed in Grunwick got a much better deal. When the factory moved, the van used to come to their home and pick them up because it was difficult for them to get to the new place. Can you imagine that? And they get a pension today! And we get nothing. That was because of us, because of our struggle.”

Despite its eventual failure, the Grunwick strike became a symbol for its demonstration of determination and solidarity. As Jayaben said: “The strike is not so much about pay, it is a strike about human dignity.” It is remembered for the way in which thousands of workers, black and white, men and women, united to defend the rights of migrant women workers. The feisty Jayaben who had catalysed the movement also changed the stereotype of South Asian women as being passive and submissive.

In recognition of her contribution to the struggle for workers’ rights, Jayaben Desai was awarded with a gold medal by the GMB trade union in 2007. She retained her indomitable spirit until she passed away at the age of 77, in December 2010.

–Mamata

The Healing Touch

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Almost all of us have been, at one time or another, a patient or the caregiver to a patient. And perhaps one of the enduring memories (good or bad) of that experience may be that of the doctor who treated. From the days of Hippocrates, known as the Father of Medicine, the ‘doctor’ is one of the key actors in the story of life and death.

Society of Bedside Medicine Logo

There was a time, not all that long ago, when the “family doctor” was the first and last word in attending to every member of the family, from babies to the elders. Most of these are still remembered, not so much for their specialized skills, as for their comforting presence and availability, and their personal engagement with the patient. In most cases, the patient was known to the doctor from childhood onwards. Thus the diagnosis and treatment was closely linked not just to the physical, but also to the psychological aspects. Often it was ‘much less about specific diagnosis than it was about knowing the person in front of you and the illness they have, and sometimes the outcome depended much less on the nature of the illness than on the nature of the patient.’

Over time, with advances in the science of medicine, and the new developments in technology that enables more accuracy and depth of diagnostic tests, the medical profession started becoming more and more dependent on these tools. So much so, that in recent times, the first visit to the doctor results in returning with a list of “tests”, based on the results of which, the doctor would begin, at the next visit, to even “look at” the patient, let alone proceed further in diagnosis and treatment. No doubt these advances have led to a deeper understanding of disease and medical conditions, and have hugely benefitted their treatment.  But such advances have made modern medicine so high-tech, research-oriented, data-driven and time-crunched, that somewhere along the way, this has led to the ebbing of the “human touch”, as it were, in the relationship between doctor and patient.

There is however, a section of the medical profession which is promoting the revival of the practice of this ‘human touch’. They believe that physical examination is a key to developing trust between patient and physician. Dr Abraham Verghese is a passionate and leading advocate of this school of thought.

Dr Abraham Verghese is perhaps better known as an author. He became known for his book Cutting for Stone, and his recent book The Covenant of Water has been acclaimed. What is perhaps less widely known is that Dr Verghese is a practicing physician and teacher of medicine, who strongly endorses as well as practices what he calls ‘the ritual of the physical exam’ as the most important aspect of developing trust between patient and physician. He believes that the physical exam is a humanistic ritual that builds trust and creates the crucial bond between physician and patient—a bond that is at the core of quality health care

Abraham Verghese started his medical education in Ethiopia and completed it in India at the Madras Medical College, both places which followed the British system of medical education that put great emphasis on learning to read the body as a text. In an interview he recalled that he had the most wonderful teachers who were incredibly skilled at reading the body as a text. He feel that this is a dying art today. We are getting so enamoured with the data and the images, the CAT scan and the MRI. But sometimes we can lose sight of the human being. …When what patients really need is something simpler and they need to be listened to, they need to be cared for. 

Even as he follows this practice as a sacred ritual, Dr Verghese has been working to institutionalize this in the United States where he has worked for several decades. He founded the Center for Medical Humanities and Ethics at the University of Texas, San Antonio where the motto was ‘Imagining the Patient’s Experience’. He is now a  professor for the Theory and Practice of Medicine at Stanford, where his old-fashioned weekly rounds have inspired a new initiative, the Stanford 25, teaching 25 fundamental physical exam skills and their diagnostic benefits to interns. Verghese feels that doctors spend an astonishing among of time in front of the monitor charting in the electronic medical record, moving patients through the system, examining tests results. In short, bedside skills have plummeted in inverse proportion to the available technology.

The objective of this initiative is to emphasize and improve bedside examination skills in students and residents in internal medicine, and advocating for a similar national effort at all medical schools. Verghese himself teaches students at patients’ bedsides instead of around a table. As he says: I still find the best way to understand a hospitalized patient is not by staring at the computer screen but by going to see the patient; it’s only at the bedside that I can figure out what is important. A part of you has to be objective and yet you have to sort of try to imagine what the patient is going through.

This approach has sparked a movement of Bedside Medicine which believes that the bedside encounter between a patient and physician is central to the practice of medicine. There is also The Society of Bedside Medicine, a mission-based global community of clinician educators dedicated to bedside teaching and improving physical examination and diagnostic skills. Its purpose is to foster a culture of Bedside Medicine through deliberate practice and teaching to encourage innovation in education and research on the role of the clinical encounter in 21st-century medicine.

For many of us who wish for the return to the ‘family doctor’ in an age when this is almost an extinct species, the Bedside Medicine movement spells a ray of hope. This week is celebrated in America as National Physicians Week. In India also we mark Doctor’s Day on 1 July. While this day is marked by thanking doctors, it may also be a good time for physicians to remind themselves of the sacred bonds between the patient and the healer. In the words of Dr. Verghese At its very nature, the experience of medicine, the experience of being a patient, is very much a human experience—patients require the best of our science, but they don’t stop requiring the Samaritan function.

–Mamata

Namer of Clouds: Luke Howard

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Cloud water colour by Luke Howard https://blog.sciencemuseum.org.uk/

23 March is World Meteorology Day. A day when there will be many scientific discourses on the science of the atmosphere and the weather. While not many adults may look up at the sky and marvel at the beauty of clouds as they drift up high, children will look up and imagine, in the continuously changing cloud shapes, everything from elephants to cotton candy! Perhaps few will make any links between the poems and paintings of this beauty with any form of scientific study.

While clouds are almost as old as the earth when it was formed, the science of clouds is much younger. Before the 19th century, the general understanding was that each cloud was unique, unclassifiable and in a state of temporary existence. Instead of strict descriptions clouds, were recorded by colour or individual interpretation. The scientific study of clouds may have said to have begun at the dawn of the nineteenth century, when a young man did more than admire the shapes of clouds, and set out to observe, study and devise a classification system for clouds. This was Luke Howard a London pharmacist and amateur, but ardent, sky gazer.

Luke Howard was born in London on 28 November 1772, the first child of a successful businessman. When he completed school Luke was apprenticed to a retail chemist, and went on to develop his own business, setting up a firm that manufactured pharmaceutical chemicals. While he ran his business, Luke also indulged his childhood fascination for nature, and especially the numerous facets of weather. He built a laboratory at home to observe, collect weather-related data and analyse this; he also maintained meticulous records of his observations.

In 1802 the modest young Luke made a presentation to a small gathering of young science-minded intellectuals in London who called themselves The Askesian Society. The lecture was titled On the Modification of Clouds (Modification referring to classification). In the talk, Howard proposed a common system for naming the recognisable forms of clouds.  In order to enable the meteorologist to apply the key of analysis to the experience of others, as well as to record his own with brevity and precision, it may perhaps be allowable to introduce a methodical nomenclature, applicable to the various forms of suspended water, or, in other words, to the modification of cloud.

Howard proposed a common vocabulary to describe different forms of clouds. The proposed system used Latin names like those that were being used for plants and animals in the Linnaean system. Combining detailed observations with imagination Howard introduced three basic cloud types:

Cirrus (Latin for ‘a curl of hair’) which he described as “parallel, flexuous or diverging fabrics, extensible in any or all directions”.

Cumulus (meaning ‘heap’), which he described as “convex conical heaps, increasing upward from a horizontal base”.

Stratus (meaning ‘something spread’), which he described as “a widely extended, continuous, horizontal sheet, increasing from below”.

He combined these names to form four more cloud types:
Cirro-cumulus, which he described as “small, well-defined roundish masses, in close horizontal arrangement”; Cirro-stratus, which he described as “horizontal or slightly inclined masses, attenuated towards a part or the whole of their circumference, bent downward, or undulated, separate, or in groups consisting of small clouds having these characters”; Cumulostratus, which he described as “the cirrostratus blended with the cumulus, and either appearing intermixed with the heaps of the latter, or super-adding a widespread structure to its base” and Cumulo-cirro-stratus or Nimbus, which he called the rain cloud, “a cloud or system of clouds from which rain is falling”. He described it as “a horizontal sheet, above which the cirrus spreads, while the cumulus enters it laterally and from beneath”. 

This was a historic lecture for many reasons. His classification brought a sense of order and understanding to a subject that had lacked coordinated thought. There were at the time no documented theories as to how pressure, temperature, rainfall and clouds might be related. Howard’s observations and classification marked the beginning of meteorology, a previously unrecognized area of natural science. The three families he proposed—Stratus, Cumulus and Cirrus , are today included as examples of the ten main cloud types – known as the cloud genera, which are defined in terms of their shapes, their altitudes and whether they are precipitation bearing. Howard’s simple, science-based system of classification was accepted by the international scientific community, and the terms that he coined are still used by the meteorological community across the world.

Howard was not just an observer and recorder, he was also skilled at painting skyscapes with clouds. He was however not adept at painting landscapes and people and a painter friend used to fill in these to complete the picture. He used these paintings to illustrate his talks and publications about cloud classification. Howard’s 32 page cloud book The Modifications of Clouds, published in 1803, is illustrated with his water colours.

Even as Luke Howard was studying clouds, for three decades he also kept daily recordings of temperature, rainfall, and atmospheric pressure in and around London. His comparison of the data allowed him to detect, describe, and analyse the fact that average temperatures are higher in cities than in the countryside. As he described it, the temperature of the city is not to be considered as that of the climate; it partakes too much of an artificial warmth, induced by its structure, by a crowded population, and the consumption of great quantities of fuel in fires. Through his observations Howard was the first to recognise the effect that urban areas have on local climate, many decades before the phenomenon of Urban Heat Islands became the hot topic that it is today.

He published his findings for his “fellow citizens” as volumes titled The Climate of London deduced from Meteorological Observations at different places in the Neighbourhood of the Metropolis in 1818 and 1820, followed by an extensive second edition in 1833. Howard thus became one of the pioneers of urban climate studies.

Luke Howard was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society on 8 March 1821 and joined the British (now Royal) Meteorological Society on 7 May 1850, only a month after the society was founded. He died in London on 21 March 1864.

As we look up at the clouds in the sky, let us remember the one who gave them names.

–Mamata