What connects Ratnagiri and Burma’s forgotten royals?

Travelling is an exercise which enables you to explore places and find hidden gems and information, which you never knew about.

For example, did you know that Ratnagiri, a coastal town in Maharashtra, has a link with Myanmar?

Yes, it sounds a little odd, but this is a fact. In the late 19th century, the last king of Burma—Thibaw Min—was living in exile in the sleepy village of Ratnagiri.

The evidence of this is the Thibaw Palace in Ratnagiri, which was built to accommodate King Thibaw and his family, who were deported from Burma (now Myanmar) by the British in 1885.

The Thibaw palace is a beautiful red-brick structure strategically located on top of a hill. It is interesting to note that King Thibaw who lived in Ratnagiri for 31 years, spent less than half of these years in this palace.

The information chart at the palace mentions that the British had sanctioned Rs 1,25,000 for the construction of the palace in the early 20th Century. Construction started in 1906, and the king and his family moved into the palace in 1910.

While it was being constructed, King Thibaw took a great interest in seeing the structure come to life.

This is why, the palace, built of laterite and lava rock, on a 20-acre property, has traces of Burmese architecture.

The palace itself is a modest structure, in terms of scale and size, compared to the other palaces in the country. However, it draws a fair share of an audience during the annual arts festival organised by the Ratnagiri Arts Circle.

When I visited the palace, I was expecting a museum which spoke about King Thibaw and the way he lived. However, there is not enough information available to visitors, and there are very few items on display.

A room on the first floor is dedicated to the king. There is also a chart which gives out basic information about his life. I learned that he belonged to the Konbaung dynasty, and was very well lettered in Buddhist scriptures. He had also published law books and created a code of conduct for his officers and town heads. It also stated that in Burma, he spent the royal money for freeing slaves and for their rehabilitation.

His reign ended when Burma was defeated by the forces of the British Empire in the Third Anglo-Burmese War, on 29 November 1885, and he was captured and exiled (along with his family) to Ratnagiri.

Today, the Thibaw palace is a state-protected monument. In case you are intrigued with this story, you should read the book, ‘The King In Exile: The Fall Of The Royal Family Of Burma,’ by Sudha Shah, which chronicles the poignant life of the last king of Burma.

(Source: TBI)

Fishing and swimming warning issued amid red tide presence in UAE, regional waters

Ministry noted that no harmful phytoplankton that causes the death of fish and other marine species has been observed.

The Ministry of Climate Change and Environment (MOCCAE) has issued a warning against fishing and swimming in the areas alongside the economic zone overlooking the west coast of the Arabian Gulf and the eastern coast of the Gulf of Oman.

Following a notification from Ras Al Khaimah Environmental Protection and Development Authority, the ministry announced on Wednesday that it has observed biological activity in the form of chlorophyll pigments in the local waters. This indicates the presence of phytoplankton, commonly known as algal bloom or red tide, in the areas alongside the economic zone overlooking the west coast of the Arabian Gulf and the eastern coast of the Gulf of Oman.

In line with the National Plan for Red Tide Management that ensures an immediate response in such events, the Ministry is coordinating satellite monitoring of the marine environment in cooperation with the Regional Organization for the Protection of the Marine Environment. Satellite images have shown that the biological activity extended to the Indian Ocean and adjacent countries.

As certain types of phytoplankton can make marine organisms poisonous to humans, the Ministry urges fishermen and beachgoers to refrain from fishing and collecting shellfish for consumption in the areas of red tide. In addition, people with allergies are asked to avoid swimming in affected waters.

A team of specialists from MOCCAE has been collecting and analyzing water samples from various coastal areas of the Arabian Sea and the Gulf of Oman to identify the types of phytoplankton present. The results indicate a limited algal bloom in green and brown colors that takes the form of unstable patches and consists of a mixture of phytoplankton species with relatively low biomass.

The Ministry noted that no harmful phytoplankton that causes the death of fish and other marine species has been observed.

The algal bloom is the result of climate change and ensuing rise in seawater temperature. Other causes include the movement of sea currents and seasonal wind activity.

The Ministry employs latest technologies, such as remote sensors, satellite imagery and digital modelling to locate a red tide and to predict its occurrence to take precautionary measures to reduce its adverse effects.

(Source: Khaleej Times)

The ancient Greek masterpiece etched on a tiny gemstone

A miniature gemstone discovered in a 3,500-year-old tomb is challenging our understanding of ancient Greek art. Now, nearly three years after it was originally discovered, experts are still trying to fathom how it was crafted.

The limestone-encrusted gem was one of 1,400 treasures found buried alongside a mysterious Bronze Age man -- dubbed the Griffin Warrior -- in Pylos, southwest Greece.

Husband-and-wife team Jack Davis and Sharon Stocker from the University of Cincinnati led the excavation near the ancient Palace of Nestor -- a site mentioned in Homer's epic poems -- in 2015.

Sharon Stocker stands in the warrior's tomb

Today experts are still pouring over the jewels, weapons and armor, searching for clues about the ancient world at the dawn of European civilization.

One tiny object measuring just 3.6 centimeters (1.4 inches) was initially overlooked and mistaken for a bead. But, beneath the limestone was a meticulously carved gemstone, now considered one of the greatest prehistoric Greek artworks ever discovered.

It is so tiny that a microscope is needed to fully appreciate the mastery of the engraving, as some details are just half a millimeter (0.0197 inches) in size.

However, no such magnifying tool is known to have existed in the ancient Greek world.

"The amount of skill that was required to execute such an intricate design on such a small surface is unbelievable," Stocker tells CNN.

It shows detailed understanding of the human body and movement which, until now, was thought far beyond the ability of Bronze Age artisans, she says.

Devil in the detail
This particular gem -- called the Pylos Combat Agate -- is one of 11,000 known sealstones from the Minoan and Mycenean civilizations (2,600 -- 1,100 B.C.).

Sealstones could be stamped into clay or wax as a means of marking identity. Some were even attached to bands and worn as bracelets.

"They're used to mark ownership in what is not totally a preliterate society, but not a fully literate society," Davis tells CNN.

The Pylos Combat Agate depicts a dramatic scene of a near-naked warrior driving a sword into his opponent, while a third warrior lies on the ground.

"We think it references some narrative that was circulating in this period," says Davis.

"It evokes Homer to us," adds Stocker, referring to his epic works "Iliad" and "Odyssey," which scholars believe were written down in the 8th century B.C. -- hundreds of years after the sealstone was crafted.

While it is impossible know for sure, one theory presented by scholars speculates that the warrior image stems from earlier oral versions of Homer's works, explains Davis.

Up-close photo of the fallen warrior.

Reproducing a miniature masterpiece
Goldsmith Akis Goumas is currently attempting to replicate the stone in hard wax or burnt clay to understand the movements, shape and size of the handheld tools used.

In tracing the tool marks on the sealstone, Goumas speculates that the craftsman may have used a rotating wooden lathe with a sharp edge to engrave the stone.

He thinks one artisan did the basic, three-dimensional engraving while another completed the secondary work.

"It isn't one craftsman's work because we can see different qualities of dexterity in the synthesis," he told CNN over email.

While Goumas may soon have answers as to how it was fashioned 3,500 years ago, Stocker says we will probably never know how it came into the Griffin Warrior's possession.

"We don't have a firm date for the grave and the creation of the sealstone," says Stocker, adding that the gem may have been created before the Griffin Warrior was born.

"But we believe that he certainly would have identified with the image that's represented on the stone."

(Source: CNN)

Instagrammers are sucking the life and soul out of travel

My view of Sri Lanka was spoiled by the peachy backsides of tourists obsessed with their social media feeds, writes Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett in the Guardian. Read on: 

A recent trip to Sri Lanka reminded me of that well known Buddhist proverb: “If you visit a temple but do not take a selfie, did it actually happen?” At these sacred sites, tourists are free to take photographs – as indeed I saw a delegation of enthusiastic monks doing at the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic in Kandy – but you are asked to please not pose with statues of the Buddha, or be photographed with your back to him. Naturally, I observed several western tourists, most of them young, ignoring this request.

The Instagrammability of a destination is apparently now the number one motivation for booking a holiday for millennials. The eternal quest for social approval, which the platform was accused of taking advantage of this week by “withholding” likes from certain users to encourage them to log in more frequently – a charge Instagram denies – continues apace. I joined Instagram relatively recently, mainly to look at travel photos of places and people around the world, a cheering endeavour in these cold, dark Brexity times, but was disappointed how many of the photos seemed to follow a particular format. A thin, blonde, white girl stands in a floaty dress, her back to the viewer, in a seemingly preordained beautiful location. Off camera a queue of other “influencers” wait patiently to get the perfect shot.

Many of them are paid in brand endorsements and partnerships with luxury travel companies. Then you have the “arses on tour” – bums with a backdrop, basically (and if there is a sunset peeking through your thigh gap, even better).At some hotels, you can now even pay extra for your very own “Instagram butler”, who will show you all the most picturesque spots and help you and your bum conduct your own photoshoot.

These Instagrammers are collectively sucking the joy and spontaneity out of travel photography, and for those unfortunate enough to bump into them abroad, possibly travel itself. We must pity the poor locals, who have to put up with them.

Consider the train I took last week from the mountain village of Ella to Sri Lanka’s cultural capital of Kandy. Widely regarded to be one of the most beautiful train journeys in the world, it traverses verdant mountain passes, waterfalls, and tea plantations. But many of the passengers under 35 were interested only in obtaining the same photograph – lifted right from Instagram – of themselves hanging barefoot out of the open doors of the train, with significant risk to life and limb. Meanwhile, in contrast, an older couple sitting in our carriage wondered aloud what on earth the young people were playing at and spent the journey watching the scenery go by through the window.

Tourists have always taken photographs. Like graffiti, it’s a very human way of saying “I was here”. But in the pre-digital age, because of the expense of film as well as high shooting ratios, you were lucky if you ended up with one usable picture. Now “influencers” can take as many photographs as they need, photoshopping and filtering until they are able to post the perfect advertisement (for that indeed is what these images are). The centering of the self to such an extent is new too, and at the expense of knowledge, exploration and adventure.

‘The easily influenced will flock to Tegalalang in Bali.’ Photograph: Suzanne Plunkett/AP

When most travel photographs on Instagram begin to look like fashion editorials you have to wonder whether anyone is learning anything. And when people are taking idiotic risks such as hanging out of fast moving trains or proffering food to tempt wild animals into shot, all for the sake of a photo that isn’t even an original composition, you might start to think that we’re approaching the end times.

It all goes to show how ineffective the internet can be as a lens for human experience, especially within a capitalist system. You might think social media would diversify the range of images we see, yet the most popular users operate according to a strict schema that takes full advantage of the relevant algorithms (creative, fascinating accounts are still there, but said algorithms make them harder to find). And it’s not just travel – it’s interiors, fashion, weddings, food, children. Social media encourages the memeification of human experience. Instead of diversity we see homogeneity. It’s extremely boring.

There is, of course, an irony to being a tourist who is complaining about other tourists. And we all fall victim to the odd corny snap every now and again. Live and let live, you might say. We all just want to see the world. Some of us just want to see it without someone’s peachy backside blocking the view. On the plus side, while the easily influenced will see these pictures and flock to the lupin fields of New Zealand or Tegalalang in Bali, or to selfie-stick the sunset in Santorini, those of us too grumpy, paunchy and tired to travel fashionably might be left in peace.

What happened to the Mughals after the fall of the Mughal Empire?

An intense curiosity led me to research on the life of the dynasty after the British took over Delhi on September 14, 1857, writes Rana Safvi in Daily O. Read on: 

We read and commemorate the heroes who gave their lives in the first war of Indian Independence, every year on their death anniversaries. But spare a thought for those who lived and lived a life worse than death.

Ahmed Ali in his book Twilight in Delhi describes the Delhi Darbar held in 1911 to celebrate the coronation of King George V a few months earlier.

The British Emperor and his wife Queen Mary left the Red Fort, as the Qila-e-Mubarak, was called by the British in a state procession. Almost every prince and ruler and notable attended it and presented tribute to King George V.

In the background as this princely convoy is moving a beggar known as Bahadur Shah is dragging himself on useless legs, begging on the streets of Shahjahanabad.

Who was this beggar? Why was he named Bahadur Shah?

An intense curiosity led me to research on the life of the Mughals after the fall of Delhi into the hands of the British on September 14, 1857.

Though hardly any English book bar Ahmed Ali's describes the remaining Mughals, Urdu books of late 19th and early 20th century are full of it.

Ghalib himself describes it in two of his works, Dastanbu and the other is Roznamcha-e-Ghadar. Even though Ghalib was not critical of the British and hoped for their patronage and a pension, he still portrays the desolation of Shahjahanabad.

The major description of the plight of the innocents is found in Khwaja Hasan Nizami's Begmaat ke Aansu, Zahir Dehalvi's Dastan-e-Ghadar, Mirza Ahmad Akhtar's Sawaneh Dehli, Syed Wazir Hasan Dehlvi's Dilli ka Aakhiri Deedar and from Fughan-e-Dehli or the dirges written by many Urdu poets on the condition of royals left in Delhi.

The prince found begging on the streets of Delhi in 1911 finds mention in Khwaja Hasan Nizami's (1873 - July 31, 1955) Begmaat ke Aansoo. His name was Mirza Nasir-ul Mulk and after escaping the British wrath in the immediate aftermath of the Uprising he had taken up employment along with his sister in a merchant's house in Shahjahanabad.

The last Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar. (Photo credit: Google)

Later when the British government fixed a pension of Rs5/pm for the Mughal prince and princesses he had stopped working. Soon the pension was squandered away and he was in debt.

After a few years later a peer baba, who looked as if he was from the Timurid-Chengezi lineage used to drag himself around Chitli Qabr and Kamra Bangash area. His legs had been struck by paralysis. He had a bag tied around his neck and he would look at passersby mutely to ask for help. Those who knew who he was would throw in a few coins in his bag.

Someone asked who he was and was told that his name is Mirza Nasir-ul-Mulk and he is the grandson of Bahadur Shah.

Another prince, son of Bahadur Shah Zafar's daughter Quraishia Begum was also begging on the streets of Shahjahanabad.

Known once as Sahib-e-Alam Mirza Qamar Sultan Bahadur, after the British took control of Delhi he was reduced to begging.

He would come out only at nights as he felt ashamed and embarrassed to be begging on the roads where people bent low to salute him when he rode in the streets.

Mirza Qamar Sultan asked for alms with an aristocratic air. He doesn't address anyone just cried out, "Ya Allah please get me enough that I can buy provisions for myself."

Khwaja Hasan Nizami wrote innumerable books on the events of 1857, all based on eyewitness accounts of survivors. One story which I found particularly moving was the story of the daughters of Mirza Kavaish who had been appointed the Heir Apparent of Bahadur Shah Zafar by the British overturning the claims of Mirza Jawan Bakht, the son of Bahadur Shah Zafar's favourite wife Begum Zeenat Mahal.

In Begmaat ke Aansoo, Khwaja Hasan Nizami has described the story, which he heard from the princess herself.

Her name was Sultan Bano and she was the daughter of Mirza Kavaish Bahadur. When she met Khwaja Hasan Nizami she was 66-years-old but still remembered everything vividly. He recorded it in Begmaat ke Aansoo as Shahzadi ki Bipta.

She tells her story to Khwaja Hasan Nizami:

Although the ghadar took place 50 years ago I still remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday. I was 16-years-old then. I was two years younger than my brother Mirza Yavar Shah and six years older than my sister Naaz Bano, who died.

My name is Sultan Bano. My father Mirza Kavaish Bahadur (he was appointed the Crown Prince by the British in 1856, over the claims of Zeenat Mahal's son Mirza Jawan Bakht). He was a favorite and able son of Hazrat Bahadur Shah.

We sisters were very fond of our brother Yawar Shah and it was reciprocated fully.

Aqa Bhai had a whole range of tutors who taught him every range of subject and various arts. He had expert calligraphers, Arabic and Persian scholars and ace archers teaching him.

We learnt embroidery, stitching and other household arts from Mughlanis.

The children that Huzur-e-Wala was very fond of would partake breakfast with him every morning. Zill-e-Subhani was very fond of me and I was always called for breakfast with him.

We didn't observe purdah then or now. Strangers would come and go from the zenana mahal without a problem. But I was shy and I always kept my head covered and didn't like coming in front of strange men. But I had to obey the orders of the Huzur, even though various male cousins also came there.

The saving grace for me was that because they were in the presence of the Emperor they all kept their gaze lowered. No one could look up or speak out of turn.

As per custom, Huzur-e-Moalla would offer a morsel from some special dish to a few of his children, that person whether young or old, male or female, would get up from their seat and go close to him and present three salams by bending from the waist.

Shahjahanabad, Old Delhi. (Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)

One day I was called and Huzur gave me a portion of a special Irani dish that had been mde that day. He said, "Sultana, you only peck at your food. It's good to be respectful but you should not go to the extent that you get up hungry from the dastarkhwan."

I presented three salams to him but only I know how I went there and came back. I was quaking and tripping over my feet.

Alas! Where did those happy days go? What happened to that era?

We would be roaming about in our palaces without a concern. Zill-e-Subhani's shadow was on our head and we were addressed as Malika-e-Alam. Such are the ups and downs of life.

I remember the day clearly when Huzur-e-Moalla was arrested in Humayun's maqbara and a gora shot my Chachajaan Mirza Abu Bakr Bahadur then Mirza Sohrab ran towards him with a naked sword. But he was shot by another gora and he fell down with an aah on chahchajaan's corpse and died. I was standing there, still as a statue watching it mutely.

A khwaja Sara came and said, "Begum why are you standing here? Your Abbajaan is calling you."

In a state of stupor I followed him.

Near the river gate, my father, Mirza Kavaish Bahadur was seated on a horse, bare headed and anxious. Abbajan's hair was covered in dust and straw. He started crying when he saw me and said, "Farewell Sultana, I too am leaving. The light of my life, my young son, who I wanted to see with a sehra of pearls and flowers hiding his face in his wedding, was killed in front of my eyes by a Sikh soldier. " I screamed loudly and started calling out, "O my brother Yawar."

He dismounted and pacified naaz Bano and me and said, "Beti, now the goras are looking for me. I don't know how much longer I can escape them or how much longer I have before my life is snuffed out. You are Masha Allah young and sensible pacify your younger sister and place your trust in God and be patient.

"I don't know what will happen to either of us. I don't want to leave you both alone but one day or the other you will be orphaned. Naaz Bano is a child, look after her and live a righteous life.

"Naaz Bano you are no longer a princess don't throw tantrums or make demands. Just give thanks to Allah and eat whatever you can get. If someone is eating, don't look at them or people will say Princesses are very greedy."

He put us in charge of the Khwaja Sara and said, "Take them to where the other members of our family have gone."

He embraced us and spurred his horse into the jungle. That was the last we saw of him and have no idea what happened to him after that. The Khwaja Sara was an old servant of our family and he set of with us. Naaz Bano walked for a little while but she had never walked in her pampered and protected life and soon her legs gave way.

She started crying. I had never walked much myself but somehow I managed and pulling Bano along stumbled my way through the streets where we once rode elephants in state processions.

A thorn pricked Naaz Bano's foot and she fell down crying. I picked her up and tried to remove the thorn. The accursed Khwaja Sara kept watching, making no effort to help. He started pushing us to hurry up.

Naaz said, "Apajan I can't walk anymore. Please ask the steward to send a palanquin for us."

I started pacifying her through my tears. My heart felt as if it would burst with sorrow.

The Khwaja Sara said rudely, "That's enough. Make a move now."

Naaz Bano was high-spirited and was used to obeisance from servants and would always keep them in their place. She scolded the Khwaja Sara. The accursed man flew into a rage and slapped the poor orphaned princess.

Bano trembled with shock. No one had ever laid a hand on her. Even I started crying along with her. The Khwaja Sara walked off leaving the two of us crying there.

Somehow the two of us stumbled our way to the dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya rahmatallah alaihe.

Thousands of people from Delhi and our family had taken refuge here. Each was caught up in their own troubles and fears. No one was talking to the other or enquiring after them.

A wave of epidemic diseases, which spread in the wake of the ghadar, claimed my sister's life.

I was now all-alone.

Though peace returned to Delhi, there was no peace for me.

The British govt fixed a pension of Rs 5/pm for all of us and I still get that.