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This paper offers a gendered perspective to British domination in India through the British Indian Army—which in many ways was central to their entire structure of economic and political domination in India. Locating its understanding drawn from the political economy of south-east Punjab, it argues that the designated martial castes and military recruitment structurally and ideologically identified with and privileged those trends of existing masculinities in this region which suited their power structure and empire building. It was a constellation of marital caste status, land ownership, dominant caste syndrome and good bodily physique or physical strength that ideologically came to connect and configure dominant masculinity in colonial Punjab. An Army profession fully supported it. During the two world wars it emerged as the militarized masculinity, amply supported by legal and administrative measures introduced or apparently adopted in deference to certain popular cultural practices. The associated economic and political privileges turned ‘loyalty’ into an inherent and special ingredient of ‘masculinity’ which the nationalists had to confront and deal with till such times that it came to be firmly linked with nationalism and patriotism.
This paper traces the establishment of standardized railway time in colonial India between 1854 and 1905, and explores how the colonized—as passengers and population—negotiated the temporal re-structuring introduced through railways. Millions were affected by the process through which the time of a single meridian was selected as an all-India railway time, and gradually deemed civil time, continuing even today as Indian Standard Time. The paper explores everyday responses to this dramatic change in ‘time-sense’ engendered through railways, both as speedy transport and as standardized time. This allows for a historical analysis of how individuals and societies deal in practice with abstract technological transformations, and of how colonized populations have navigated the modernizing intervention of imperialist states. It argues that the ways in which the population of colonial India accepted, contested, and appropriated the temporal standardization instituted through railways and railway time challenged imperial policies determined by reified presumptions of metropolitan versus colonial ‘time-sense’. Since these responses were often analogous to how people and societies across the globe were responding to temporal standardization, they disrupt imperial strategies that used time-sense to locate colonized populations outside of History, in effect excluding them from their own present. They thus serve to materially de-stabilize a narrative of colonial time-lag and to reclaim the historical present as a time in which the colonizer and colonized exist contemporaneously. Consequently, they reconfigure modernity as an experiential rather than as a normative historical present.
This article examines the attitudes of the Quranic mushrikūn to the resurrection and the afterlife, focusing on those who doubted or denied the reality of both. The first part of the article, published in a previous issue of BSOAS, argued that the doubters and deniers had grown up in a monotheist environment familiar with both concepts and that it was from within the monotheist tradition that they rejected them. This second part relates their thought to intellectual currents in Arabia and the Near East in general, arguing that the role of their pagan heritage in their denial is less direct than normally assumed. It is also noted that mutakallims such as Abū ʿĪsā al-Warrāq and al-Māturīdī anticipated the main conclusions reached in this paper.
This paper examines changes between 1992 and 2010 in Japanese junior high school history textbooks’ representations of imperial Japan's colonialism and aggression in Asia, using documentary study and interviews with actors in the textbook production process. Following a trend to increase textbook material on Japan's wartime aggression in the mid-1990s, after 2000 publishers approached this topic in contrasting ways, some expanding and some reducing their coverage, with dramatically varying results in terms of market share. Publishers’ decisions on content were related to their market position and to changes in local textbook adoption procedures that have increased the decision-making power of appointed boards of education at the expense of teachers. Increased market share since 2000 is associated primarily with a progressive pedagogy in tune with recent curriculum reforms. The recent spotlight on textbook adoption has exposed weaknesses in the system, such as inadequate representation of the local community and insufficient guarantee of teachers’ expert input in the adoption process. With the introduction of new textbook approval criteria requiring their conformity with the patriotic emphases of the revised Fundamental Law on Education of 2006, the content of future textbooks will clearly be strongly influenced by both approval and adoption processes.
This paper contributes to the history of ‘criminal tribes’, policing and governance in British India. It focuses on one colonial experiment—the policing of Moghias, declared by British authorities to be ‘robbers by hereditary profession’—which was the immediate precursor of the first Criminal Tribes Act of 1871, but which so far altogether has passed under historians’ radar. I argue that at stake in the Moghia operations, as in most other colonial ‘criminal tribe’ initiatives, was neither the control of crime (as colonial officials claimed) nor the management of India's itinerant groups (as most historians argue), but the uprooting of the indigenous policing system. British presence on the subcontinent was punctuated with periodic panics over ‘extraordinary crime’, through which colonial authorities advanced their policing practices and propagated their way of governance. The leading crusader against this ‘crisis’ was the Thuggee and Dacoity Department, which was as instrumental in the ‘discovery’ of the ‘Moghia menace’ and ‘criminal tribes’ in the late nineteenth century as in the earlier suppression of the ‘cult of Thuggee’. As a policing initiative, the Moghia campaign failed consistently for more than two decades. Its failures, however, reveal that behind the façade-anxieties over ‘criminal castes’ and ‘crises of crime’ stood attempts at a systemic change of indigenous governance. The diplomatic slippages of the campaign also expose the fact that the indigenous rule by patronage persisted—and that the consolidation of the colonial state was far from complete—well into the late nineteenth century.
Bhutan, a relatively small kingdom in the lap of the Eastern Himalayas is unique in many ways. It is a democratic kingdom where the king took the initiative to transfer his powers to the people. It is trying to enter the new millennium without compromising with its cultural values, age old traditions, and natural beauty. The development path it has selected does not pass through urbanisation and industrialisation; it passes through a judicious mix of rural and urban setting where human values reign supreme. And last but not the least it has given to the world a new measure of development known as gross domestic happiness (GDH). The kingdom stands first in GDH in South Asia and eighth in the World.
Bhutan is a country of highly dispersed village settlements isolated from each other or linked with mountain trails. People reside in the valleys and mountain slopes and eke out their living from subsistence farming. In a country of less than 700,000 inhabitants, the scope for the development of major cities is just not there. Thimphu, the capital of the country has around 80,000 inhabitants. Phuentsholing, on the south-west border, is the next city in the urban hierarchy of the kingdom. It has around 21,000 people. The other cities, or should we say, towns, having more than 5,000 people each are: Wangdue Phodrang located further east of Thimphu, Mongar in the central east, and Samdrupjongkhar on the south-eastern border with India (Fig. 14.1).
Some years ago, academics referred to Chennai, earlier known as Madras, as a rural metropolis (Dattadri and Hyma, 1976), for the city and its people had radiated the charms of the rural landscape even as it was growing as a metropolis of some repute. Obviously, the rural metropolis of the 1970s has now graduated to become a ‘modern’ megalopolis. It is still suffused with a rural character underlying a more visible despoiled city. The physical and human environment has changed as the city has grown vertically as well as horizontally. The simplicity of life and compassion towards nature and fellow human beings that once formed the core of the urban culture of Chennai is, however, getting lost. This chapter looks at Chennai through time and space, the physical and socio-economic development ever since it appeared on the urban scene of India in the days colonial; it discusses the problems associated with it, it intends to lend a hand to planning and policy measures needed to make this metropolis growing yet better managed in future.
LOCATIONAL ATTRIBUTES
Chennai is located 13° 4' N and 80° 15' E on a flat plain slightly above the sea level. It stretches for about 30 km along the coast from Thiruvanmiyur in the south to Thiruvattiyur in the north. The elevation of the coastal topography rarely exceeds 5-7 metres. It is sultry and warm almost throughout the year. The months of December-February are fairy cool and pleasant. Being a coastal city, it is humid.
South Asia is on the move. Having remained dormant for about three centuries, it has picked up speed, and is on the way to recovery. If the current development trajectory is any indicator, it is destined to become one of the most dynamic regions of the world in not too distant a future. Much, however, depends on how fast it forgets its divisive past, and transcends the narrow national interests of its constituent nation states to work in unison to forge a regional identity similar to EU.
Known as India until the British occupied it, it had always been a prosperous land. The region is endowed with rich natural and human resources. With 1.56 billion people, forming almost a quarter (23.50 percent) of the world population (July 2008), South Asia has the potential of becoming a leading region of the world. The people are industrious, intelligent, and inheritors of a highly advanced civilisation whose roots go back to 7,000 years. Vedic Civilisation, which took its birth around 7000 bc has been known for its spiritual heights, and the Indus Valley Civilisation, (3000-1500 bc), one of the earliest urban civilisations of the world, tells the world the basics of city planning. And to add to its glorious past, it gave birth to three great religions of the world: Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism. Further enriched by Islam and Christianity, they taught the world the lessons of non-violence, human brotherhood, and sustainable development. They still dominate the cultural landscape of South, South East, and East Asia.
Karachi, a fishing village in the eighteenth century, has grown into a wonderful Mega City of the twenty-first century. It has been referred to as the ‘Glory of the East’, ‘City of Lights’, and the ‘Liverpool of India and Pakistan’. It had the distinction of having the first airport and the third seaport of undivided India. It was the Federal Capital of Pakistan from 1947 to 1961 and now constitutes the biggest commercial hub of the country. Together with Bin Qasim port just 50 km from the city centre, it accounts for more than 95 per cent of Pakistan's foreign trade, 30 per cent of its industrial production, and 60 per cent of the total revenue.
Karachi is the home of almost 15 million people. Despite the fact that it generates huge revenues for the country, its residents are deprived of the basic civic amenities. ‘Unmanaged growth of the city has given rise to the mushrooming of Katchi Abadies (slums and squatter settlements), where poverty, disease, and crime’ prevail. It is the most literate cities of Pakistan, but most of its residents have so far failed to enjoy a quality of life that they deserve, given the prime role Karachi plays in the economy of Pakistan.
Maldives is a nation of approximately 1,190 coral islands, which constitute two lengthy chains running north to south and covering an area of 90,000 sq km. Its Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) is spread over 859,000 sq km in the Indian Ocean. Male, the capital of the country has a land area of 2.5 sq km and contains about a third of the population of the country. Only 200 islands are inhabited; most of them have less than 1,000 inhabitants each. Maldives occupies a respectable position in the Asia-Pacific region both in national GDP growth rate, and human development.
Located at 4°10' and 4°.16'67” North latitudes, and 73°30' and 73°.5' East longitudes, Male (pronounced as Maale') is the only island city in the world devoid of mountains, highlands, and rivers. It is a sea-dominated flat land. The surging waves of the sea and lush green vegetation instill natural charm and pristine beauty to it. Male' (Kaafu) Atoll (coral formation) is one of the 20 atoll groups of Maldives (Figure 16.1). It was traditionally the King's Island where the Royal Palace was located and from which the Royal dynasties ruled over the islands. Prior to 1968, it had a fortification wall with entry and exit gates (doroshi) all around. When the city was remodelled by Ibrahim Nasir, the second president of Maldives (1968-1978), the Royal Palace (Gan'duvaru) along with its picturesque forts (kotte) and bastions (buruzu), was demolished.
Steeped deeply in tradition, yet at the same time moving fast to catch up with the emergent e-age, Hyderabad is an ‘eclectic mix of history and culture, a chaotic concoction of the medieval, the modern, and an uncouth adoption of post-modern’ urban value. Strategically located in South Central India, it is a city where north and south India meet to present a truly Indian culture and civilisation in all its manifestations. In Andhra Pradesh, the region of Telugu-speaking people, Hyderabad is an Urdu-speaking city with Hindus and Muslims, being in equal number. Together they constitute 95 per cent of the population of the city. The Old City, New City and Secunderabad, and the upcoming IT and technology hub, Cyberabad, represent the separation as well as blend of three generations: the medieval, the modern, and the post modern.
The city was founded by Muhammad Quli Qutb Shah of the Qutb Shahi dynasty, the ruling family of Golconda (11 km away), in 1591. The Shahs were earlier a feudatory of the Bahmani Sultanate, which was the first independent Islamic and Shiite Kingdom in South India. The Bahmanis ruled from Ahsanabad (Gulbarga in Karnataka) between 1347 and 1425. In 1425, the capital was shifted to Muhammadabad (Bidar in Karnataka). The sultanate reached its peak during the vizierate of Mahmud Gawan (1466-81). After ad 1500, it split into five sultanates (known as Deccan Sultanates): Ahmednagar, Berar, Bidar, Bijapur, and Golconda. Golconda had declared independence in 1512.
Until about 1980, Bangalore was a slow-moving city following the rhythm of old trading networks, retired civil servants, army personnel, academics, and landed gentry. The roads were clean, wide, and practically free of CO2-emitting vehicles. It was a green city. All this changed slowly and then suddenly the Garden City of yesteryears transformed into a Hi-Tech City within a span of just two decades. Invaded by information technology giants like Infosys, Wipro, and a host of others from India and abroad, the urban culture and structure of the city changed. The city is on the move and looking forward to a newer and more vibrant future.
Then suddenly, in 2006 it decided to reinstate its original name ‘Bengaluru’, from its anglicised version Bangalore. On 11 December 2005, the Government of Karnataka announced its intention to rename Bangalore as Bengaluru. A year later, on 27 September 2006, the Bruhat Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike (BBMP) resolved to follow the suggestions of the state government in this regard. The State Government officially implemented the change of name from 1 November 2006, though the Union Home Ministry is yet to clear the change.
‘One who has not seen Lahore was not really born,’ goes an old Punjabi maxim. Lahore is one of the very few cities in the world, which takes pride in its own ubiquitous lifestyle. Its traditions, dialect, festivities, cuisine, body language, and air are typically Lahori, unlike any other city. Lahore, being the provincial capital of Punjab (Pakistan), is a centre of brisk economic and political activities. It has always been the city of poets, saints, philosophers, and artists; the prime citadel of education and learning in Pakistan. It is a business and industrial centre too. It has everything that a city needs to be called ‘great.’
Present-day Lahore has two parts: old and new (more precisely, northern and southern Lahore). The old city, which was once enclosed by a wall with twelve gigantic gates, has now transcended the protective wall. Narrow winding streets, historical monuments, grand havelis, crowded bazaars, and cuisine centres characterise the old city. Modern architecture, open boulevards, and fashionable shopping malls makeup the southern part of the city. The two, old and new, are separated by The Mall, Lahore's most beautiful avenue.
South Asia is now part of the global capital and information system; economic structural reforms since the early 1990s aim at further strengthening its bonds with the global economy. Many economists and urban planners feel that the mega cities are the engines of growth and the future of the national economies of the region depends on them. As such, the macro-economic reforms to meet the imperatives of globalisation have been accompanied with urban sector reforms to increase productivity and attractiveness of large cities.
The shift from mixed economy, with its commanding heights controlled by the public sector, to globalisation, liberalisation, and privatisation in 1990s has neither been smooth nor painless. Rapid economic growth and technological progress are accompanied by interpersonal and inter-regional inequities, environmental degradation, and cultural debasement. While the number of billionaires and millionaires in on the increase, the number of those who are below the poverty line as also those dying of hunger is not decreasing fast enough to give hope for a better and more peaceful future. Global warming and climate change is another unwanted and unexpected outcome of the new economic policy. To add to the problems, the basic human values that make us better human beings are getting eroded as pursuit of material advancement gains momentum. How to find a mid-way that improves the quality of life of all is a major challenge South Asia faces today as it tries to integrate itself in the global economy?