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The Frustrated Indian speaks...

...after ages of silence!!

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I am the wind that blows along the plains of India and through the hills, and rustles through the mountains and creates ripples on the surface of rivers and waves in the seas. I am the wind that connects India like stories of great valour do. And today I have a story of unparalleled valour to tell. It was the nineteenth day of April 1919, a warm sunny April day in Amritsar. I was busy carrying the aroma of fresh crops and cries of babies and affable chidings of their mothers on that tragic Baisakhi day. All of a sudden they started shooting. For ten minutes their .303 Lee-Enfield kept spewing fire. And after ten minutes, the fragrance of fresh crops abandoned me and so did the hollers of the babies. I smelt of gunpowder and of burning flesh and the...
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1564, Narrai valley in present day Madhya Pradesh; amidst hills surrounded by Narmada River She was valiantly defending her land from Mughal army, riding on Sarman, her elephant, when the arrows struck her; one in the neck and another in her temple. She pulled them out but had lost so much blood in effect that she fell unconscious. Moments later when she regained her senses, she was witnessing a brigade of brave men - half resting on ground wrapped in blood, some without their heads, and others trying to defend their fellowmen; who had given their lives to live their Queen’s motto “better to die respectfully than to live a disgraceful life”. Her eyes were moist but tears won’t come out, for her stature, tears wouldn’t dare disregard her courage; there was still some fight left in her, the final blow...
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I smile sitting atop the elephant howdah as I look at my army ecstatic with joy. We have discouraged the Mughal troops. Some are fleeing, some are clueless and some are fighting out of desperation.“Calm down…War is not over until the last soldier of the enemy has been slain” I announce.The army is yelling at deafening pitch, sounds of “Jai Shree Ram” along with “Allahu Akbar”. My scouts tell me that Akbar and Bairam Khan haven’t come to the battle field. They are scared of the collective might of my brave Hindu and fearless Afghan units.“Jai Shree Ram” the army goes again.Suddenly a sharp surge of pain overtakes me. I feel a shaft buried deep inside my left eye. I feel dizzy and take forever to fall from the elephant back.I pluck the arrow out. An Afghan soldier comes running.“Let the...
©The Frustrated Indian
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“If you don’t withdraw your troops from Kayanglam and stop your aggression, we will have but no option other than to attack Travancore and you know we are the “superior” power here” – threatened the Dutch Governor Van Imhoff. The Maharaja was unperturbed. He retorted back in his characteristic style “Should the so called “superior” power attack us, there are enough forests in Travancore to secure us safely. Besides, we ourselves are planning to invade Europe with our Navy.” The Dutch Governor was taken aback by the gumption. He knew the Maharaja had already annexed the adjacent kingdoms of Quilon and Attingal and his sights are already beyond Kayankulam. If Kayankulam is lost, then the entire pepper trade of Dutch East India Company could close down. There was no option but to stop the King. He immediately installed the princess...
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The year was 1836. It was early April. Bithoor, a small town near Kanpur, was already beginning to feel the heat of a cruel summer. Two young girls of about eight were staring longingly at a round mango hanging high up in a tree. One of them said, 'Kashi, you wait here. I will climb the tree and pluck the mango'. 'No, no Manu, you cannot climb the tree. What will your Baba say?' 'And why can't I climb the tree?' Manu asked, her dark eyes flashing with anger. 'Girls are not supposed to climb trees Manu. That is a boy's job. Let us call Nana. Kashi replied. Manu tossed her head dismissively and said, 'I can do everything that Nana can do. I can ride a horse better than him in fact. Even his father, Bajiraosaheb says so.' Manu folded...
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