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The Naxalite beginnings are by now history, and not a little nostalgia tinges the memory of these dreaded events. The leaders, the organizers, the spine, and the continuity of the movement are the revolutionary intellectuals. The Naxalite movement is not principally a rural, agrarian problem as the doctrine of the Naxalites argues, but is a problem of the leading edge of the urban intelligentsia. Though the Naxalites take their name from the incident at Naxalbari in 1967, the defining attributes of the Naxalite view of revolution emerged only later. From the beginning, it was not the labouring poor of the nation or Bengal that Charu Mazumdar addressed, but, first, the disaffected revolutionary activists within the communist movement and, later, the ‘student–youth’. This book discusses the ideologies of the Naxalite terrorists, the terrorist in the Bengali society, the Communist Party of India, and the Indian economy.

“The poem is rising into splendid popularity. Some say it is better than Milton — but that is all bosh — nothing can be better than Milton; many say it licks Kalidasa; I have no objection to that. I don't think it impossible to equal Virgil, Kalidasa, and Tasso.” Michael Madhusudan Datta wrote this in a letter to a friend about his verse narrative, The Slaying of Meghanada (1861). The epic, a Bengali version of the Ramayana story in which Ravana, not Rama, is the hero, has become a classic of Indian literature. Datta lived in Bengal at the height of what is frequently called the Bengal Renaissance, a time so labeled for its reinvigoration and reconfiguration of the Hindu past and for the florescence of the literary arts. It was also a period when the Bengali city of Kolkata was a center of world trade-the second city of the British empire — and thus a site of cultural exchange between India and the West. Datta was the perfect embodiment of this time and place. The Slaying of Meghanada is deeply influenced by western epic tradition, and is sprinkled with nods to Homer, Milton, and Dante. Datta's deft intermingling of western and eastern literary traditions brought about a sea change in South Asian literature, and is generally considered to mark the dividing line between pre-modern and modern Bengali literature. Datta's masterpiece is now accessible to readers of English in this translation, which captures both the sense and the spirit of the original. The poem is supplemented by an extensive introduction, notes, and a glossary.

This collection presents 145 brief Bengali lyric poems dedicated to the Hindu goddesses Kālī and Umā. The poems — many of which are presented here for the first time in English translation — were written from the early eighteenth century up to the contemporary period. They represent the unique Bengali tradition of goddess worship (Śāktism) as it developed over this period. The author's lucid introduction places these works in their historical context and shows how images of the goddesses evolved over the centuries. The lively translations of these poetic lyrics evoke the passion and devotion of the followers of Kālī and Umā and shed light on the history and practice of goddess worship.

This book is a companion volume to the author's The Economics of Ecstasy: Tantra, Secrecy, and Power in Colonial Bengal, but while The Economics of Ecstasy engages the theoretical issues of secrecy and concealment associated with the Kartābhajās — a Bengali sect devoted to Tantra, an Indian religious movement notorious for its alleged use of shocking sexual language and rituals, this book presents the first English translation of the sect's body of highly esoteric, mystical poetry and songs. The period from the late eighteenth to the early nineteenth centuries, during which these lyrics were written, was an era of change, experimentation, and transition from the older medieval styles to the new literary forms of “modern” Bengal. The original songs presented are an important part of this transitional period, reflecting the search for new literary forms and experimentation in new poetic styles. Long disparaged as an inferior, low‐class, or corrupt form of Bengali literature, these songs are concerned with contemporary social life in colonial Calcutta and with the real lives of common lower‐class men and women. With their vision of a universal “religion of humanity,” open to men and women of all classes, the Kartābhajā songs offer an alternative model of community, which made a special appeal to the working classes of colonial Calcutta. They delight in ridiculing and satirizing the foppish British rulers and pretentious upper classes, although at the same time, however, the satirical urban imagery is mingled with older Tantric connotations and employed in ingenious new ways to express profoundly esoteric and mystical religious ideas.

In the popular imagination, Bauls in West Bengal (India) and Bangladesh are depicted as a sect of musical mendicants with flowing hair clad in ocher-colored clothes and carrying a one-stringed instrument. Their popularity stems from their mystical songs and their carefree, whimsical behavior. Somewhat less celebrated are Baul beliefs and practices: they are fiercely opposed to the caste system and sectarianism and, at least in the context of their sexo-yogic rituals and philosophy, extol women over men. Despite the importance of women among Bauls, scholarly and popular discourses on Bauls marginalize Baul women by depicting the ideal Baul as male and as unencumbered by social constraints and worldly concerns. For Baul women, these ideals pose distinct challenges to their position and reputation as women in rural Bengal, where gendered norms limit women’s actions. However, as musical performers hoping for patronage, behaving as a Baul can ensure their livelihood. This book shows how Baul women interpret and respond to these various constructions of gender and Baul identity and suggests that Baul women are encumbered actors. It argues that Baul women negotiate their identity, position, and life choices in light of contradictory expectations of appropriate behavior for Bengali women and for Bauls. It demonstrates that Baul women draw on the very tools of their encumbering to create for themselves a meaningful life and a more just society. As they sing, wander, take renunciation, and raise a family, they expand ideas about both women and Bauls in Bengal.

This book demonstrates that British imperialism was integrally connected to British religion. Using published sources, the book identifies the construction, development, and ingredients of a public Anglican discourse of the British Empire between 1700 and c.1850. It argues that the Church of England exhibited an official and conscious Anglican concern for empire and for missions by the Church of England, from the foundation of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts in 1701. Much of that earlier 18th century understanding went on to shape later Anglican Evangelical imperial attitudes in the Church Missionary Society founded in 1799. In this Anglican engagement with the British Empire, a public theological discourse of empire was formed and promulgated. This religious public discourse of empire was developed in an imperial partnership with the state. It was formulated in the Anglican engagement with the North American colonies in the 18th century; it underwent a revival of the church-state partnership in the period between 1790 and 1830, as witnessed in Bengal; and it was fundamentally transformed in a new paradigm of imperial engagement in the 1840s, which was implemented in the colonies of Australia and New Zealand. Both the old and the new imperial Anglican paradigms developed a religious and theological imperial discourse that constructed the identities for various colonized peoples and British colonists, as well as contributing to English-British identity between 1700 and 1850. It was a Christian lens that proved remarkably consistent and enduring for both the old and the new British Empires.

This book is a story of two outstanding Bengali women fighting for a cause, so similar and yet so strikingly different at multiple levels. It presents a historical evaluation of Sarala Devi Chaudhurani and Begum Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain. It specifically determines the similarities and differences in the ideas and activities of these women from two different communities in colonial Bengal, Hindu-Brahmo and Muslim, and thus also sheds some light on contemporary Hindu and Muslim societies, their patterns of change during the colonial encounter, and the emergence among both the communities of a new generation of women. It concentrates on their concern and work around women’s issues. It first introduces the lives of Sarala and Rokeya. It then investigates the steps Sarala and Rokeya advocated or adopted to enhance the lives of women. It concludes by addressing how their contemporaries viewed Sarala and Rokeya, and how are they regarded today.

This book is about the politics of time, the politics through which colonial modern societies attempt to make a time of their own. It is about the predicament of colonial modern practice caught between dreams of modernity and desire for difference. A significant part of the book is an analysis of the various ways, in which the colonized produce themselves as a modern historical nation, in negotiation with the ‘primitive’ within, just as at the same time ‘primitives’ are produced out of certain sections of the colonized population through various colonial modern technologies. The rest of the book analyses the implications of this. It is argued that modernity is determined by the dominance of the history. The mutual articulation of knowledge and monetary rationality in colonial Bengal is described. The book presents the argument that Santal rebellions and narrations are most beneficial when read as moments of practical temporalization. Moreover, it deals with the colonial experience of being penetrated by contradictory times. It illustrates how the colonial production of the ‘primitive’ was not only a concrete process of severing all unmediated relationships between peoples, but also a process of inserting money as the sole mediator between them.

This book investigates the deeper area of class antagonism between the privileged and underprivileged classes as they faced the colonial state and its different ideas of legality and sovereignty in colonial Bengal. It examines the ambiguity in the bhadralok — the educated middle class — response to courts and jails. The author argues that the discourse of superior ‘bhadralok’ ethics and morals was juxtaposed against the ‘chhotolok’ — who were devoid of such ethical values. This enabled the bhadralok to claim for themselves the position of the ‘aware’ legal subject as a class — a ‘good’ subject obedient to the dictates of the new rule of law, unlike the recalcitrant and ethically ill-equipped chhotolok. The author underlines the development of a new cultural language of morality that delineated the parameters of bhadralok public behaviour. As the ‘rule of law’ of the British government slid unobtrusively into the public domain, the criminal courts and the jails turned into public theatres of infamy — spaces that the ethically bound bhadralok dreaded occupying. The volume, thus, documents how the colonial legal and penal institutions streamlined the identities of some sections of the lower castes into ‘criminal caste’. It also examines the nature of colonial bureaucracy and highlights the social silence on gender and women's criminality.

This book chronicles the rise and subsequent fortunes of Hindu goddess worship, or Śāktism, in the region of Bengal from the middle of the eighteenth century to the present. The primary documents are lyrics directed to the goddesses Kālī and Umā, beginning with those of the first of the Śākta lyricist devotees, Rāmprasād Sen (ca. 1718–1775) and Kamalākānta Bhaṭṭācārya (ca. 1769–1821), and continuing up through those of the gifted poet Kājī Najrul Islām (1899–1976). The author has used extensive research from primary historical texts as well as from secondary Bengali and English source materials. She places the advent of the Śākta lyric in its historical context and charts the vicissitudes over time of this form of goddess worship, including the nineteenth‐century resurgence of Śāktism in the cause of nationalist politics. The main theme of the book is the way in which the images of the two goddesses evolved over the centuries. Kālī is sweetened and democratized over time, and much of her fierce, wild, dangerous, and bloody character disappears as she is increasingly seen as a compassionate and loving divine mother to her children. Umā, for her part, is gradually transformed from the gentle and remote wife of Śhiva to the adored daughter of Bengali parents, increasingly humanized and colored with regional Bengali characteristics. The book is arranged in two main parts: I, The lives and contexts of Śākta poets; and II, The changing genre of Śākta poetry. The author's translations of the poems on which this book is based appear in Singing to the Goddess: Poems to Kālī and Umā from Bengal (OUP, 2000).

The loss of the greater part of the British Empire in North America, along with the independence of the former thirteen colonies and the creation of a new British territorial empire in eastern India, are conventionally interpreted as unconnected events. American independence has long been seen as marking the end of a ‘first’, largely trading, Atlantic empire of white settlement, while the extension of British rule over Bengal signalled the creation of a new ‘second’ empire of rule over non-European peoples that was to spread over India and into south-east Asia and Africa during the nineteenth century. This book contests that view, arguing that both losses in America and gains in India were part of a single phase of British imperial history in the later eighteenth century. In the face of worldwide competition from France, Britain sought to consolidate her imperial possessions and maximise their contribution to her wealth and security. Policies directed to these ends seemed to threaten the autonomy of the elites in British America and drove them to resistance, for which they were able to win widespread popular support. By contrast, in Bengal in particular, the British were able to achieve accommodations with landowning and commercial interests in India, which enabled their empire to survive and later to grow.