Long live the chaaya kadas of the world. Then be it a European sidewalk café, a Bombay tapri, a Kerala thattu kada or the Burmese tea shop. This is the best place to take a deep breath, sit back with a cup of steaming tea and enjoy the world go by. It’s here that I put my rule number one of my very own `travel survival lessons’ into practice. Always keep your eyes, nose and ears open to the sights, smells and sounds around you.
So, while Ameena and I rounded off my Mandalay visit over a cup of tea, my eyes trained on the psychedelic coloured cream cakes, which looked more sugar paste than cream, in the glass cabinets of one of the popular `Burma Tea Shop’, I tuned my ears to the cacophony of chatter around me. Ameena informed me that, the tea shops in Myanmar were the venue for striking business deals of all kinds. Men, mostly in colourful checkered lungis and women, in bordered or floral lungis, raised banter. While it was impossible to see young women or for that matter young men, hanging out at the tea shops in Mandalay, the older women folk looked very comfortable sharing table with men and discussing business over a cup of tea.
South and South East Asian society is pretty much conservative. But perhaps even more so in Myanmar. Having kept the rest of the world out of the country since independence, Myanmar is far behind in all things fashionable and glamorous. In fact, it was difficult to see people in a costume other than the lungi, except in Yangon. Most Burmese men I saw on the streets and tea shops were `rice beer' pot bellied. Donning their lungi like a skirt, with a protruding bunched knot on the belly, with huge cheroot like local cigar in one hand, and guzzling strong tea with the other, they do make an interesting sight.
I did wonder about the checkered lungis when I visited a cottage weaving unit at Mandalay. Especially the pattern, tiny and large intertwining or simple squares, in earthy shades of all colors, is so popular all over Southern and Eastern India. What came to my mind were the Early Historic records of the weavers of Paithan in Maharastra, and their community’s subsequent spread to the regions of Deccan, Central and Western India during Medieval periods. In more recent times, the colonization of Myanmar by Indians, and particularly by people from the Deccan, could have influenced the fabric patterns at the weaving units set up by the Britishers.
Besides colonization’s, the country was also a hotspot for rebel exile. The veteran freedom fighter Bal Gangadhar Tilak was exiled at the Mandalay Prison between 1908-1914. There are also stories about large number of Mappila rebels who were deported to Burma and the Andaman after the 1921 rebellion in Malabar region of Kerala. In fact, there are a large number of people from the Malabar region in Kerala who went to Burma those days. One eminent Malayalam writer, U A Khader, was born there to a Burmese mother and a Malabari father from Koyilandy. The stories of U A Khader are strewn with memories of his early days in Myanmar, making the writer seem more Burmese, than a Malayalee. Another famous Malayalam writer, Punathil Kunhabdulla, also has similar Burmese connection. His father, from Vatakara in Kerala, lived in British Burma for a long time before returning to Malabar. While in Burma, he married a Burmese woman and raised a family. Recently, Kunhabdulla toured Burma in search of his Burmese cousins. Like some of his stories, his recent travelogue on this trip, has several references to his Burmese past. The presence of the multitudes of Indians in Burma also brings to mind the poem `Assam Panikkaar’ meaning `workers from Assam’ by the famous poet Krishna Warrier.
In that sense Myanmar was a perfect melting pot. It is now difficult to disentangle the various threads from India, Nepal, China, and Thailand from this tapestry called Myanmar. The cultural ethos is predominantly Buddhist, and perhaps that’s why it wasn’t too difficult to accommodate the various strains from the above four nations. Except for a few savory items, the modern eating habits in Burma are more akin to Chinese and Thai cuisines. The flashes of modernity in Yangon are all a reflection of the ever growing contingent of Burmese in Thailand.
This melting pot was always boiling over with social and political strife. Right from historical times, the country has been at political cross-roads. In recent history, all minor and major clashes by displaced locals and rebel ethnic groups were controlled and contained by the British forces. Myanmar’s involvement in the WWII further deteriorated the nation. It resulted in large scale migration of human population across the borders. Thousands died on `The Trek’ across the Indian border. Many rich merchants and traders moved their business to the islands of Malaysia and Singapore. A massive contingent of Indians, Chinese and Burmese labour force moved to the islands mostly as Rubber plantation workers.
Today Myanmar is the poorest nation in South East Asia. Constant political turbulence, corruption and mismanagement of nation’s resources has stagnated and isolated the nation. It has become famous for its transnational drug trade. Myanmar is the world’s 2nd largest producer of opium and a major player in the `Golden Triangle’ of drug trade across its northern border with China and Thailand. Most of the coveted Burmese red rubies and yellow sapphires, from the Mogak mines, near Mymyo, get sold in the black market. The working conditions of the miners at these quarries are just one of the many human rights violations in Myanmar.
Myanmar is awaiting a revival. Seeing the wealth of heritage and culture in the regions around its heart called Mandalay, one cannot but wish for it. The world needs to see and know more of this forgotten landmass. Experience the life around the fertile plains of the Irrawady and at the Yangon delta. And while at it, take time off to appreciate the fine silversmiths and their splendid filigree work at Saigon, the exquisitely embroidered carpets, with stuffed appliqué work and sequins at Inwa, the leather string puppets with dazzling embroidery and wooden heads at Amrapura, and to take a stroll along the line of stalls by the Irrawady, selling water-colour paintings by contemporary artists, most of them repeats of a popular scene or portrait. This fascination with water-colour art, I learned, was also a left-over British tradition, when the white sahibs and memsahibs took time off to paint the `quaint’ life along the Irrawady. Yes, its time to start afresh.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Myanmar II – My Irrawady sojourn
After an overnight bus ride from Yangon, I took a days rest at Mymyo, the `only’ hill station in Myanmar, located close to Mandalay. I stayed at this very colonial British club house turned resort; a charming red mansion with a lovely driveway, garden, patio, and balcony on the outside and a warm and cozy interior, complete with a piano, fire place and banister stairways from the past. A fumbling entourage of humble employees ensured a comfortable stay. Other than a vast, beautiful botanical garden, in excellent maintenance, Mymyo is a quaint town with a smattering of lovely colonial bungalows which are mostly abandoned. As usual, the markets are still alive. The neat rows of shops, with old and new signboards of bakers, and merchants, reminded me of its cantonment past. I could imagine a lively market, bustling with young, smart railway and army officers, taking a few days break from work and the humid weather at Yangon, Mandalay or the teak jungles to enjoy English breakfast at the sunny roadside cafes of Mymyo. But today, this pretty little market, struggles to bake a decent loaf of bread.
My guide, Ameena, a third generation, half Tamil, half Burmese Muslim lady, received me the next day morning and we were on our 2 hour ride to Mandalay. She was more a companion than a guide, and talking to her made interesting learning about migrant populations in Myanmar. She said she lived in Mandalay, in a locality full of `Madrasis’. Undoubtedly, the legacy of migrants from the Madras Presidency lives on in Myanmar. There is also a huge population of people of Nepali origins settled in Myanmar; particularly in Mymyo. Known as Gorkhalese, most of them have an ancestry in Myanmar dating back to the Raj.
We drove past teak wood plantations, which looked more like forests interspersed with quaint vegetable farms, and flower beds. I watched the trucks, laden with amazingly huge cylinders of teak go by. But even more fascinating were the vans loaded with tons of neatly stacked flowers!! All on their way to the Thai border. Mymyo is well known for its horticulture efforts since the British time. But the tradition of decorating homes with fancy flowers is long since gone with the British.
Finally, I was in Mandalay, facing the prominent Mandalay hills, sprouting many old and new pagodas all uniformly painted white with golden domes. Ameena and I, headed straight for the Fort Palace, in the northern end of the city, surrounded by a wide moat, connected with a bridge on all four sides. The present wood palace is actually an exercise in reconstruction after the original 1857 palace it was thoroughly razed to the ground in the WW II bombings. The king’s private apartment, `The Glass Palace’ dazzled in the hot afternoon sun. It’s not just the most extensively gilded among the many official and residential structures within the fort complex, but it’s also the most elaborately decorated with tiny bits of colored glass. It literally `reflects’ its short-lived grandeur.
Although Mandalay city was founded as recently as 1857 by King Mindon, it is surrounded by medieval history on either side of a lifeline called River Irrawady. After the fall of the `Golden Era’ at Pagan in the 12th Century the towns of Saigon, Inwa, Amrapura, and Mingun saw successive back and forth as political nerve centres. And there is something special about each of these settlements.
At Amrapura, for instance, a visit to the 100 year old Mahagandhayon Monastry, one of the largest in the world, is a must. The monastery is home to several thousands of young and old monks. The Bagaya Monastry of Inwa, built completely of teakwood in 1834, is a phenomenal piece of architecture with some of the supporting teak pillars as large as 3m in circumference. It is definitely one of its kind heritage monument. Although, blackened with age, its intricate carvings, the lacquered pillars and gilded cool interiors are still resplendent in beauty. Saigon too has many monasteries and pagodas. Rebuilt and renovated over the centuries, some of the pagodas on the Saigon hills, date back to the 14th century. Amrapura also boasts of the longest surviving teak wood bridge in the world. Although rickety, this 150 year old and 1.2 km long bridge connects villages along the lagoons and islands on the Irrawady and is still used by pedestrians and cyclists.
Mingun is 11kms upstream of Mandalay, on the opposite bank of the Irrawady. Had it not been for the 200 year old Mingun Pagoda, this sleepy village wouldn’t stand a chance in history’s memory. The Pagoda is most certainly one of the most amazing architectural remains in Myanmar. It’s huge. Reportedly, the massive earthquake in 1838 reduced its height to half. Or else the pagoda would have been the largest in the world. The remaining half itself looks formidable, with gaping cracks cutting across its `all brick’ edifice. I thoroughly enjoyed my bullock cart rides to the pagodas, along the vast alluvial plains of this village.
But, it was sailing across the Irrawady to reach Mingun, which will remain my most memorable experience about Myanmar. I have this penchant for crossing arterial rivers like Irrawady, which cuts across one or several countries. The quiet solitary ride on the upper deck of the motorized boat, watching the Mingun Pagoda, rise like an isolated hill on the flat banks in the horizon, will always remain afresh in my memory. Every river is a lifeline. And rivers like the Irrawady, are indeed so. Starting at its two main tributaries, Rivers Mihika and the Mallika in the northern states, the Irrawady cuts across the entire length of Burma. The agrarian economy and the teakwood trade of British Burma, was completely dependent on this. The river was the most convenient mode of transportation for massive loads of teakwood from the forested upper reaches of Myanmar, to the docks at Yangon. There are references to how river Irrawady had more wood in the water than water itself!!
Unfortunately, I couldn’t make it to the 4000 and more monuments at Pagan, further north of Mandalay. That’s because I didn’t want to rush Pagan. I wanted a week long stay just in Pagan to explore the `Golden Era’ architectural remains. “Maybe sometime soon”, said Ameena, as we rounded off our trip at one of the many popular tea shop restaurants. And yes, there was still so much more to see and learn of contemporary Myanmar in Mandalay.
My guide, Ameena, a third generation, half Tamil, half Burmese Muslim lady, received me the next day morning and we were on our 2 hour ride to Mandalay. She was more a companion than a guide, and talking to her made interesting learning about migrant populations in Myanmar. She said she lived in Mandalay, in a locality full of `Madrasis’. Undoubtedly, the legacy of migrants from the Madras Presidency lives on in Myanmar. There is also a huge population of people of Nepali origins settled in Myanmar; particularly in Mymyo. Known as Gorkhalese, most of them have an ancestry in Myanmar dating back to the Raj.
We drove past teak wood plantations, which looked more like forests interspersed with quaint vegetable farms, and flower beds. I watched the trucks, laden with amazingly huge cylinders of teak go by. But even more fascinating were the vans loaded with tons of neatly stacked flowers!! All on their way to the Thai border. Mymyo is well known for its horticulture efforts since the British time. But the tradition of decorating homes with fancy flowers is long since gone with the British.
Finally, I was in Mandalay, facing the prominent Mandalay hills, sprouting many old and new pagodas all uniformly painted white with golden domes. Ameena and I, headed straight for the Fort Palace, in the northern end of the city, surrounded by a wide moat, connected with a bridge on all four sides. The present wood palace is actually an exercise in reconstruction after the original 1857 palace it was thoroughly razed to the ground in the WW II bombings. The king’s private apartment, `The Glass Palace’ dazzled in the hot afternoon sun. It’s not just the most extensively gilded among the many official and residential structures within the fort complex, but it’s also the most elaborately decorated with tiny bits of colored glass. It literally `reflects’ its short-lived grandeur.
Although Mandalay city was founded as recently as 1857 by King Mindon, it is surrounded by medieval history on either side of a lifeline called River Irrawady. After the fall of the `Golden Era’ at Pagan in the 12th Century the towns of Saigon, Inwa, Amrapura, and Mingun saw successive back and forth as political nerve centres. And there is something special about each of these settlements.
At Amrapura, for instance, a visit to the 100 year old Mahagandhayon Monastry, one of the largest in the world, is a must. The monastery is home to several thousands of young and old monks. The Bagaya Monastry of Inwa, built completely of teakwood in 1834, is a phenomenal piece of architecture with some of the supporting teak pillars as large as 3m in circumference. It is definitely one of its kind heritage monument. Although, blackened with age, its intricate carvings, the lacquered pillars and gilded cool interiors are still resplendent in beauty. Saigon too has many monasteries and pagodas. Rebuilt and renovated over the centuries, some of the pagodas on the Saigon hills, date back to the 14th century. Amrapura also boasts of the longest surviving teak wood bridge in the world. Although rickety, this 150 year old and 1.2 km long bridge connects villages along the lagoons and islands on the Irrawady and is still used by pedestrians and cyclists.
Mingun is 11kms upstream of Mandalay, on the opposite bank of the Irrawady. Had it not been for the 200 year old Mingun Pagoda, this sleepy village wouldn’t stand a chance in history’s memory. The Pagoda is most certainly one of the most amazing architectural remains in Myanmar. It’s huge. Reportedly, the massive earthquake in 1838 reduced its height to half. Or else the pagoda would have been the largest in the world. The remaining half itself looks formidable, with gaping cracks cutting across its `all brick’ edifice. I thoroughly enjoyed my bullock cart rides to the pagodas, along the vast alluvial plains of this village.
But, it was sailing across the Irrawady to reach Mingun, which will remain my most memorable experience about Myanmar. I have this penchant for crossing arterial rivers like Irrawady, which cuts across one or several countries. The quiet solitary ride on the upper deck of the motorized boat, watching the Mingun Pagoda, rise like an isolated hill on the flat banks in the horizon, will always remain afresh in my memory. Every river is a lifeline. And rivers like the Irrawady, are indeed so. Starting at its two main tributaries, Rivers Mihika and the Mallika in the northern states, the Irrawady cuts across the entire length of Burma. The agrarian economy and the teakwood trade of British Burma, was completely dependent on this. The river was the most convenient mode of transportation for massive loads of teakwood from the forested upper reaches of Myanmar, to the docks at Yangon. There are references to how river Irrawady had more wood in the water than water itself!!
Unfortunately, I couldn’t make it to the 4000 and more monuments at Pagan, further north of Mandalay. That’s because I didn’t want to rush Pagan. I wanted a week long stay just in Pagan to explore the `Golden Era’ architectural remains. “Maybe sometime soon”, said Ameena, as we rounded off our trip at one of the many popular tea shop restaurants. And yes, there was still so much more to see and learn of contemporary Myanmar in Mandalay.
Ammu's and her new school
ammu started attending school in our village on the 4th.its a short three month stint, before she moves to a `city' school. she likes it. its a local neighbourhood school. she's treated like a `special case'. no uniform, no textbooks, no homework for ammu. while the other kidz are burdened with all the above!!! yesterday, she came home worried and towards bedtime she was crying. she finally told me about the `big long stick' that all teachers in the kindergarten have and which they keep banging on the table and threaten to beat up naughty children. i had to go to school and speak to the class teacher, and principal. according to them `local' kidz are `wild' and need to be `tamed'. isnt it funny, rather unfair, our first lessons in life is to `fear'. fear teachers, fear parents, fear god.... and expect to to have `mind without fear, and the head is held high'......... no wonder `awakening' is super slow!!!......
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Myanmar - a forgotten neighbourhood
Myanmar - A Forgotten Neighbourhood
binatho@gmail.com
Why Myanmar? I was asked by several friends. Why not a holiday to some other exciting place with a lot more to see and do? And so I searched for reasons for my interest in Myanmar. Was it just the physical proximity of a neighbouring country I didn’t know at all, or the fascination Amitav Ghosh’s book `The Glass Palace’ had generated in me. Well, it was actually a curious mix of the above two.
Honestly, I find the name Myanmar emotionally distancing. Its `Burma’ we are used to. The picture of the yellow shell logo of `Burmah-Shell’ oil companies, instantly comes to my mind. Growing up in a family involved in the business of servicing of trucks and tankers, I could identify that logo on oil tankers even before I could read. Unfortunately, the many decades of political turbulence has kept investors and visitors out of Myanmar. There is nothing rich or glamorous about this country. It’s more like stepping into the house of an old and poor relative, whose courtyard is filled with a confused array of things forgotten and lost. In fact, the only thing about Myanmar that blinks in peoples mind today is the face of Aung San Suu Kyi, the Nobel laureate for Peace, undergoing house arrest since 1989 in her own country.
Besides fascinating references to the regions in the 14th century accounts of Marco Polo and other travelers, British Raj prodigies like George Orwell and Rudyard Kipling has also left interesting accounts and references of their life and times in Myanmar. Yes, I was excited about exploring this country. I could picture myself sailing across the Irrawaddy, the life line of Myanmar even before I set off.
Although I was headed to the countries centre and cultural heart, which is Mandalay, I had two important visits in Yangon. First, a visit to the golden landmark of Myanmar - the Swedagon Pagoda also known as the Golden Pagoda. The initial glimpse of its golden spire brings images of the 19th century litho prints. However, now it’s minus the wild vegetation around its vast expanse. Except the awesome glitter of the Pagoda, the entire place is a maze of old and new, small and big freshly whitewashed shrines on a newly marbled floor. Originally founded and built in the 6th or 7th century AD by the Mon rulers, this monument and its surrounds has seen a series of additions and renovations, besides withstanding numerous earthquakes. The monument is like a zedi or stupa park, bustling with devotees, offering prayers, eating lunch or taking a siesta. I actually wanted to escape the heat, the heady smells of incense and Burmese lunch. And stop hopping from one marble tile to the other to save my feet from getting roasted. Unfortunately the original entrance to the Pagoda is crowded with offertory and souvenir shops, making it impossible to appreciate anything.
Although most of Myanmar’s past history is no more than sketches of regional feuds by different ethnic groups, its Myanmar’s recent 200 years of history that has shaped the nations glory and doom. It was the Pyu’s and Mon’s of Tibeto-Burman and Eastern-Indian origin respectively who were responsible for the first states in Myanmar since the 6th century AD onwards. The Bamar or the Burmans are said to have come down the Eastern Himalayas in 8th cent AD and occupied Central Myanmar and sustained it as the cultural capital if not the political capital. The vast temple complexes of Pagan dating from the 9th -12th century are remnants of a Golden Period or the `Pagan Era’ in Burmese history. But once again conflict among native groups weakened the political system and the invasion of Kublai Khan’s army in 1287 AD ended the `Golden Era’ completely. Chaos continued among rulers of different ethnic groups. Finally in 1752 the Mon took complete charge of regions around Mandalay and even defeated the neighbouring Thai kingdom. This victory motivated them to take on the British forces in the west. Well, their confidence just proved too wrong.
The British began occupying Myanmar from the 1820’s till it officially became a part of the British Raj in 1886. The same year the last of the royals, King Thibaw and Queen Supalaya and their children were taken prisoners to Ratnagiri in Maharashtra. Meanwhile, Indians and Chinese were encouraged by the British to populate urban centres like Yangon and Mandalay so as to facilitate trade and political administration. And most importantly, as workforce for the much needed rail and road infrastructure. Phenomenally large patches of teak wood forests were razed to ground for building rail carriages and laying tracks. Large tracts of swampy delta region were leased out or sold to Indian merchants who managed rice farming and its trade. Indians also had high stakes in the gem trade. It is estimated that in the 1930’s the number of Indians in Myanmar amounted to half of the nation’s total population.
Myanmar was always a resource rich nation and during the Raj it came to be considered the rice bowl of the world, also rich in teak wood resources, and precious stone deposits. The discovery and mechanized drilling of oil in the second half of the 19th century near Mandalay deepened the British interest in the nation’s wealth. Even today, in Yangon it’s the grand colonial structures of these prosperous times that grace the city streets laid out in a well planned grid system. Most streets and markets still retain their British names.
Myanmar hasn’t changed much since the British left them in total chaos to fend for themselves, after squeezing out most of the natural resources it had. The nation is in a time warp. There is an uneasy feeling of neglect and isolation about Yangon.
My Bangladeshi friend in Yangon took me through various streets seeking out the best of Burmese food and tea. And I was thrilled when she herself suggested a visit to the second most important purpose of my Yangon stay. A visit to the tomb of our last Mughal Bahadur Shah Zafar, who died in exile in Yangon in 1862. But the visit proved depressing. Not that I was expecting a grand monument. But neither did I expect to see a durgah so common, like the tens of them you find in the streets of Delhi. Definitely not for the Last Emperor of a dynasty that ruled most of India for 300 years. Except for the visits by Muslims and Sufis the durgah goes unnoticed even by the occational visitor to Yangon. But isn’t that what happened to the Burmese Royals in exile in Ratnagiri too? This was getting too depressing. I wished to get out of Yangon. I remembered the lines from Emperor Zafar’s poem that he wrote in last years “lagta nahi hai ji mera is ujade dayaar mein”. I felt the same way. I was glad to board the overnight bus to Mandalay.
binatho@gmail.com
Why Myanmar? I was asked by several friends. Why not a holiday to some other exciting place with a lot more to see and do? And so I searched for reasons for my interest in Myanmar. Was it just the physical proximity of a neighbouring country I didn’t know at all, or the fascination Amitav Ghosh’s book `The Glass Palace’ had generated in me. Well, it was actually a curious mix of the above two.
Honestly, I find the name Myanmar emotionally distancing. Its `Burma’ we are used to. The picture of the yellow shell logo of `Burmah-Shell’ oil companies, instantly comes to my mind. Growing up in a family involved in the business of servicing of trucks and tankers, I could identify that logo on oil tankers even before I could read. Unfortunately, the many decades of political turbulence has kept investors and visitors out of Myanmar. There is nothing rich or glamorous about this country. It’s more like stepping into the house of an old and poor relative, whose courtyard is filled with a confused array of things forgotten and lost. In fact, the only thing about Myanmar that blinks in peoples mind today is the face of Aung San Suu Kyi, the Nobel laureate for Peace, undergoing house arrest since 1989 in her own country.
Besides fascinating references to the regions in the 14th century accounts of Marco Polo and other travelers, British Raj prodigies like George Orwell and Rudyard Kipling has also left interesting accounts and references of their life and times in Myanmar. Yes, I was excited about exploring this country. I could picture myself sailing across the Irrawaddy, the life line of Myanmar even before I set off.
Although I was headed to the countries centre and cultural heart, which is Mandalay, I had two important visits in Yangon. First, a visit to the golden landmark of Myanmar - the Swedagon Pagoda also known as the Golden Pagoda. The initial glimpse of its golden spire brings images of the 19th century litho prints. However, now it’s minus the wild vegetation around its vast expanse. Except the awesome glitter of the Pagoda, the entire place is a maze of old and new, small and big freshly whitewashed shrines on a newly marbled floor. Originally founded and built in the 6th or 7th century AD by the Mon rulers, this monument and its surrounds has seen a series of additions and renovations, besides withstanding numerous earthquakes. The monument is like a zedi or stupa park, bustling with devotees, offering prayers, eating lunch or taking a siesta. I actually wanted to escape the heat, the heady smells of incense and Burmese lunch. And stop hopping from one marble tile to the other to save my feet from getting roasted. Unfortunately the original entrance to the Pagoda is crowded with offertory and souvenir shops, making it impossible to appreciate anything.
Although most of Myanmar’s past history is no more than sketches of regional feuds by different ethnic groups, its Myanmar’s recent 200 years of history that has shaped the nations glory and doom. It was the Pyu’s and Mon’s of Tibeto-Burman and Eastern-Indian origin respectively who were responsible for the first states in Myanmar since the 6th century AD onwards. The Bamar or the Burmans are said to have come down the Eastern Himalayas in 8th cent AD and occupied Central Myanmar and sustained it as the cultural capital if not the political capital. The vast temple complexes of Pagan dating from the 9th -12th century are remnants of a Golden Period or the `Pagan Era’ in Burmese history. But once again conflict among native groups weakened the political system and the invasion of Kublai Khan’s army in 1287 AD ended the `Golden Era’ completely. Chaos continued among rulers of different ethnic groups. Finally in 1752 the Mon took complete charge of regions around Mandalay and even defeated the neighbouring Thai kingdom. This victory motivated them to take on the British forces in the west. Well, their confidence just proved too wrong.
The British began occupying Myanmar from the 1820’s till it officially became a part of the British Raj in 1886. The same year the last of the royals, King Thibaw and Queen Supalaya and their children were taken prisoners to Ratnagiri in Maharashtra. Meanwhile, Indians and Chinese were encouraged by the British to populate urban centres like Yangon and Mandalay so as to facilitate trade and political administration. And most importantly, as workforce for the much needed rail and road infrastructure. Phenomenally large patches of teak wood forests were razed to ground for building rail carriages and laying tracks. Large tracts of swampy delta region were leased out or sold to Indian merchants who managed rice farming and its trade. Indians also had high stakes in the gem trade. It is estimated that in the 1930’s the number of Indians in Myanmar amounted to half of the nation’s total population.
Myanmar was always a resource rich nation and during the Raj it came to be considered the rice bowl of the world, also rich in teak wood resources, and precious stone deposits. The discovery and mechanized drilling of oil in the second half of the 19th century near Mandalay deepened the British interest in the nation’s wealth. Even today, in Yangon it’s the grand colonial structures of these prosperous times that grace the city streets laid out in a well planned grid system. Most streets and markets still retain their British names.
Myanmar hasn’t changed much since the British left them in total chaos to fend for themselves, after squeezing out most of the natural resources it had. The nation is in a time warp. There is an uneasy feeling of neglect and isolation about Yangon.
My Bangladeshi friend in Yangon took me through various streets seeking out the best of Burmese food and tea. And I was thrilled when she herself suggested a visit to the second most important purpose of my Yangon stay. A visit to the tomb of our last Mughal Bahadur Shah Zafar, who died in exile in Yangon in 1862. But the visit proved depressing. Not that I was expecting a grand monument. But neither did I expect to see a durgah so common, like the tens of them you find in the streets of Delhi. Definitely not for the Last Emperor of a dynasty that ruled most of India for 300 years. Except for the visits by Muslims and Sufis the durgah goes unnoticed even by the occational visitor to Yangon. But isn’t that what happened to the Burmese Royals in exile in Ratnagiri too? This was getting too depressing. I wished to get out of Yangon. I remembered the lines from Emperor Zafar’s poem that he wrote in last years “lagta nahi hai ji mera is ujade dayaar mein”. I felt the same way. I was glad to board the overnight bus to Mandalay.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Pune Diaries Chapters 1-2 (through the eyes of young Varun, a 12 year old)
Chapter 1, Amchi Pune
Bina Thomas ( binatho@gmail.com )
Dear Diary,
Summer holidays weren’t that boring after all! Initially I was sad, thinking that I would be stuck in the house and in Pune city for two months, while all my friends went on vacation to various interesting places. Well, stuck in the city I was, but not in the house!!
You must be wondering what that means. Let me explain. Since we could not leave on a vacation during the summer holidays, Mom and I chalked out an itinerary for our travels and activities within the city. We were new to the city and decided to explore and discover it over a vacation. Our schedule included not just visiting places of historical importance but also of contemporary significance. In the beginning I was a little apprehensive;
“Exploring the city through this chaotic traffic and pollution,” I had asked.
“Think of it as discovering gems. Historic gems and modern day landmark establishments,” Mom has encouraged.
Even before we moved to Pune, we had heard a lot about the city. That it’s called as the `Queen of the Deccan’ was very impressive. Although, I never really tried finding out why it was called so? This second largest city of Maharashtra state is also known as the `Oxford of the East’ because of the premier educational institutions located here, some of which were the first in the country.
The `Cultural capital of Maharashtra’ - Pune most certainly is. A few months stay in Pune is enough to teach you that! Particularly during Ganesh utsav. Festivals here are livened up by a number of cultural programmes including classical as well as folk and contemporary dance, drama and music. This tradition bound city continues to host and support events which have been coming down from generations; like the recently held Palki of Sant Jyaneshwar and Tukaram. I shall tell you more about it when I narrate my visit to Alandi!
Pune was also called a `Pensioners Paradise’. This was because many senior citizens from neighboring cities, mainly from Bombay, preferred the peace and quite of Pune to settle down post retirement. Nestled in the Sahayadri Mountains, 560 m above sea level, along the confluence of the rivers Mula and Mutta, this picturesque city is inviting even today. But this sobriquet, `pensioners paradise’ for this bustling city is certainly a misnomer today.
Pune is thriving with young people from all over the country. They are either studying in one of the many colleges or working at the innumerable number of Indian as well as Multinational companies. There is also a large contingent of international student population. Added to this is the vast migrant population of artisans and skilled labour, who in search of work have made Pune their home. Today Pune has a population of over 45 lakh.
Pune definitely holds a great future. As a 12 yr old, even I can sense the promise the city holds for youngsters like me, in terms of education and opportunities. But its glorious past I was yet to discover. I will share with you my experiences. It has been a long journey. Not just discovering a city, but also its soul. In the process, not just was I learning more about the city but I was also beginning to feel more at home here!
Chapter 2, Shaniwarwada
Bina Thomas ( binatho@gmail.com )
Dear Diary,
I must have gone past the Shaniwarwada at least a few times in the past one year of being in the city, but was never interested in visiting the historical monument. So, when Mom suggested that Shaniwarwada was the first destination on our `Pune Darshan’ itinerary, I wasn’t very excited. “Why, Shaniwarwada?” I had said.
“Let’s begin at the very core,” she said, “Shaniwarwada was not just the political and cultural hub of the Peshwas, but also was and still is, the very heart of the city. Geographically too, it is located in Central Pune.”
Very soon we were navigating our way through the most crowed part of the city in a rickshaw. Our driver tried hard to dodge past the cyclist and, pedestrians, who seemed to jump in front our rickshaw, like pop up screens on my computer! Mom’s decision to not take our car through this chaotic traffic made complete sense.
“Not bad at all!” I thought as I stood in front of the impressive Delhi Gate or the main gate made of metal and wood with large spikes, so that even the enemies elephants will not succeed in forcing open the doors. For a structure that began as a residential mansion or `Wada’ to house the royal families of the Peshwas, Shaniwarwada was colossal. “That’s because, successive Peshwas added this stone fortification walls, bastions and gates” explained Mom. She had read about the monument before coming. “It took two years to build, from 10th January 1730 to 22nd January 1732. The entire complex spreads over an area of 150mx 200m (6.25 acres) and housed at least a 1000 people.”
“In all there are 5 gates,” the monument caretaker had chipped in, seeing me admiring the main gate. “The Dilli Darwaja was used by the Peshwas to set out for all their military campaigns. The others are Mastani or Alibahadur Darwaja, Khidki Darwaja, Ganesh Darwaja, and Narayan Darwaja,” he concluded. When I smiled, he wanted to engage me further with the many interesting and mysterious `stories’ about the Wada. I said “some other time” and continued with my exploration. Actually, I had heard of a few `stories’ from my classmates. But facts, like the name Shaniwarwada, for the largest Wada in Pune, was because construction began on a Shaniwar or Saturday, were really unique!!
For a monument which was destroyed by many calamities, like the fire in 1828, there is a lot to see within Shaniwarwada. The surviving foundations of minor mansions, regal halls, stables, kitchens and toilets are all so interesting. From our readings we knew that the layout of the entire Wada was spread out around two central courtyards. The much talked about Hazare Karanje or the `thousand’ spouted fountain, in the shape of a 196 petal lotus not just spoke of the decorative style of the times, but also of the intricate water works of those days. I didn’t know, until the caretaker informed me, that the water source for the fountain was an underground conduit that came from a lake in Katraj, 18kms away!
It was good fun climbing up the steps and walking along the fort walls. The view of the bustling city from the Nagarkahana, the special music gallery, set above the main gate transported me to the Peshwa era! For a moment I was Peshwa Bajirao I, addressing his people from his citadel!! Whatever the case, I was getting more and more intrigued by this city of Wadas’…..
Bina Thomas ( binatho@gmail.com )
Dear Diary,
Summer holidays weren’t that boring after all! Initially I was sad, thinking that I would be stuck in the house and in Pune city for two months, while all my friends went on vacation to various interesting places. Well, stuck in the city I was, but not in the house!!
You must be wondering what that means. Let me explain. Since we could not leave on a vacation during the summer holidays, Mom and I chalked out an itinerary for our travels and activities within the city. We were new to the city and decided to explore and discover it over a vacation. Our schedule included not just visiting places of historical importance but also of contemporary significance. In the beginning I was a little apprehensive;
“Exploring the city through this chaotic traffic and pollution,” I had asked.
“Think of it as discovering gems. Historic gems and modern day landmark establishments,” Mom has encouraged.
Even before we moved to Pune, we had heard a lot about the city. That it’s called as the `Queen of the Deccan’ was very impressive. Although, I never really tried finding out why it was called so? This second largest city of Maharashtra state is also known as the `Oxford of the East’ because of the premier educational institutions located here, some of which were the first in the country.
The `Cultural capital of Maharashtra’ - Pune most certainly is. A few months stay in Pune is enough to teach you that! Particularly during Ganesh utsav. Festivals here are livened up by a number of cultural programmes including classical as well as folk and contemporary dance, drama and music. This tradition bound city continues to host and support events which have been coming down from generations; like the recently held Palki of Sant Jyaneshwar and Tukaram. I shall tell you more about it when I narrate my visit to Alandi!
Pune was also called a `Pensioners Paradise’. This was because many senior citizens from neighboring cities, mainly from Bombay, preferred the peace and quite of Pune to settle down post retirement. Nestled in the Sahayadri Mountains, 560 m above sea level, along the confluence of the rivers Mula and Mutta, this picturesque city is inviting even today. But this sobriquet, `pensioners paradise’ for this bustling city is certainly a misnomer today.
Pune is thriving with young people from all over the country. They are either studying in one of the many colleges or working at the innumerable number of Indian as well as Multinational companies. There is also a large contingent of international student population. Added to this is the vast migrant population of artisans and skilled labour, who in search of work have made Pune their home. Today Pune has a population of over 45 lakh.
Pune definitely holds a great future. As a 12 yr old, even I can sense the promise the city holds for youngsters like me, in terms of education and opportunities. But its glorious past I was yet to discover. I will share with you my experiences. It has been a long journey. Not just discovering a city, but also its soul. In the process, not just was I learning more about the city but I was also beginning to feel more at home here!
Chapter 2, Shaniwarwada
Bina Thomas ( binatho@gmail.com )
Dear Diary,
I must have gone past the Shaniwarwada at least a few times in the past one year of being in the city, but was never interested in visiting the historical monument. So, when Mom suggested that Shaniwarwada was the first destination on our `Pune Darshan’ itinerary, I wasn’t very excited. “Why, Shaniwarwada?” I had said.
“Let’s begin at the very core,” she said, “Shaniwarwada was not just the political and cultural hub of the Peshwas, but also was and still is, the very heart of the city. Geographically too, it is located in Central Pune.”
Very soon we were navigating our way through the most crowed part of the city in a rickshaw. Our driver tried hard to dodge past the cyclist and, pedestrians, who seemed to jump in front our rickshaw, like pop up screens on my computer! Mom’s decision to not take our car through this chaotic traffic made complete sense.
“Not bad at all!” I thought as I stood in front of the impressive Delhi Gate or the main gate made of metal and wood with large spikes, so that even the enemies elephants will not succeed in forcing open the doors. For a structure that began as a residential mansion or `Wada’ to house the royal families of the Peshwas, Shaniwarwada was colossal. “That’s because, successive Peshwas added this stone fortification walls, bastions and gates” explained Mom. She had read about the monument before coming. “It took two years to build, from 10th January 1730 to 22nd January 1732. The entire complex spreads over an area of 150mx 200m (6.25 acres) and housed at least a 1000 people.”
“In all there are 5 gates,” the monument caretaker had chipped in, seeing me admiring the main gate. “The Dilli Darwaja was used by the Peshwas to set out for all their military campaigns. The others are Mastani or Alibahadur Darwaja, Khidki Darwaja, Ganesh Darwaja, and Narayan Darwaja,” he concluded. When I smiled, he wanted to engage me further with the many interesting and mysterious `stories’ about the Wada. I said “some other time” and continued with my exploration. Actually, I had heard of a few `stories’ from my classmates. But facts, like the name Shaniwarwada, for the largest Wada in Pune, was because construction began on a Shaniwar or Saturday, were really unique!!
For a monument which was destroyed by many calamities, like the fire in 1828, there is a lot to see within Shaniwarwada. The surviving foundations of minor mansions, regal halls, stables, kitchens and toilets are all so interesting. From our readings we knew that the layout of the entire Wada was spread out around two central courtyards. The much talked about Hazare Karanje or the `thousand’ spouted fountain, in the shape of a 196 petal lotus not just spoke of the decorative style of the times, but also of the intricate water works of those days. I didn’t know, until the caretaker informed me, that the water source for the fountain was an underground conduit that came from a lake in Katraj, 18kms away!
It was good fun climbing up the steps and walking along the fort walls. The view of the bustling city from the Nagarkahana, the special music gallery, set above the main gate transported me to the Peshwa era! For a moment I was Peshwa Bajirao I, addressing his people from his citadel!! Whatever the case, I was getting more and more intrigued by this city of Wadas’…..
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