Say What Now?!

  Once upon a time in the heavenly valleys of Kashmir , where the rivers whispered poetry and the mountains watched silently, a storm was brewing. No, not the usual snowfall. This was political. This was passionate. And at the center of it all stood a man who would become the very heartbeat of modern Kashmiri identity — Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah , fondly remembered as the “Sher-e-Kashmir” (Lion of Kashmir).  The Scholar-Turned-Activist Born in 1905 in a modest family in Soura , near Srinagar , Sheikh Abdullah had the fire of rebellion in his eyes and a voice that could move mountains (or at least get people to sit up in those freezing political meetings). After studying science at Aligarh Muslim University (AMU), he realized two things: Equations are cool. But changing society is cooler. So, instead of solving physics problems, he started solving Kashmir’s social and political inequalities — especially the ones caused by the Dogra rule . Kashmir Under the Dogras: Not S...

  By the turn of the 20th century, the Indian National Congress had been around for two decades. It was supposed to be the polite dinner party where Indians and Brits discussed reforms over tea and biscuits. But slowly, things got a bit loud, a bit radical, and a lot more annoying for the British. Meanwhile, Indian Muslims—who formed around a quarter of the population—were watching from the sidelines, thinking, “Should we be at this party, or are we going to end up being dessert?” And thus began the Muslim political awakening , driven by equal parts concern, ambition, and British encouragement (read: manipulation). The British Role: Divide, Distract, and Delegate If the British Raj had a motto, it would’ve been: “Why deal with one angry group when you can create two?” They saw a golden opportunity to split the rising nationalist tide . And what better way than to subtly convince Muslim elites that their future might not lie with the Congress, but in a separate lane altogether? Lor...

  Swadeshi Movement (1905–1911): When Indians Said "No Thanks, We'll Make Our Own" Backdrop: British Bungle #247 The year is 1905. Lord Curzon—viceroy, colonial overachiever, and certified chaos magnet—just partitioned Bengal, slicing up the region along religious lines like a colonially-approved fruit salad. India: “We hate this.” Britain: “It’s for administrative purposes.” India: *“You mean ‘divide and rule.’” This led to nationwide fury, and in typical Indian style, instead of smashing windows, people got philosophical, practical, and slightly fashionable about their rebellion. What Was the Swadeshi Movement? “Swadeshi” literally means "of one's own country." So the idea was: Boycott British goods (goodbye Manchester cloth), Embrace Indian-made products (hello khadi), Support local artisans (aka the original small businesses). It wasn’t just about rejecting stuff; it was about reclaiming identity through economy. Key Tactics: How...

  The Partition of Bengal (1905) Backstory: British Raj and the Case of the Overfed Bureaucrats So, picture this: It’s the early 1900s. Queen Victoria is long dead, but her spirit of imperial micromanagement lives on through Lord Curzon, the British Viceroy of India—a man who was equal parts imperial administrator and world-class meddler. Now, Bengal at this point wasn’t your average state—it was a mega-state , home to about 78 million people (yes, more than the population of the UK at the time), spanning what is now West Bengal, Bangladesh, Bihar, Odisha, and parts of Assam . So you can imagine British bureaucrats sweating through their starched collars, swimming in paperwork, and muttering, “This is simply ungovernable! Pass me a gin and tonic.” Thus emerged the idea: Split Bengal into two , and maybe—just maybe—the bureaucrats could breathe and stop losing files under their monocles. But of course, this is British colonialism we’re talking about. If you thought the decision was...

  Chapter 1: The Birth of a Giant (1885 – Tea, Talks, and Trouble) Once upon a time in British-ruled India, a group of educated, frustrated, tea-loving Indians decided it was time to do more than just sip chai and mutter, “Yeh angrez kuch zyada hi kar rahe hain…” And so, in 1885 , in the scenic city of Bombay , a gentle and very polite man named A.O. Hume —a retired British civil servant with a conscience and perhaps an overdeveloped fondness for petitions—gathered a bunch of Indian intellectuals in a hall. “Let’s start a club,” someone said. “Not a club,” corrected Hume. “A Congress.” Thus, the Indian National Congress (INC) was born. It was like an elite WhatsApp group before WhatsApp existed, with lawyers, professors, poets, and politicians discussing how to ask the British to be slightly less British , please and thank you. Chapter 2: The Gentlemen's Debate Club (1885–1905) In its early years, the Congress was basically a polite complaint box. They passed resolutions like...

  Once upon a time in October 1973, when most folks were busy fasting and reflecting on Yom Kippur (the holiest day in the Jewish calendar — think of it as the ultimate "sorry-not-sorry" day with zero snacks), something way less spiritual happened. The neighbors, Egypt and Syria, decided it was the perfect moment to surprise Israel with a little “gotcha” moment — an all-out war. Why? Well, because nothing says “I love you” like catching your enemy when they’re busy in synagogue, right? So, on October 6th, while Israel was deep in prayers and fasting (and probably trying not to think about food), the Egyptian army launched a massive assault across the Suez Canal. Imagine a giant game of “Leapfrog” but with tanks and missiles instead of kids jumping around. At the same time, Syria decided, “Hey, why not join the party?” and attacked the Golan Heights. Israel, caught off guard (because who expects a war on the day of fasting?), scrambled like someone who just realized they forg...

Once upon a time in the 1960s, the Middle East was like a neighborhood where everyone was super suspicious of each other — like that one block where the mailman always feels like he’s walking through a reality TV show. So, you had Israel — let’s call them Team Maccabee — living there, and a bunch of neighbors: Egypt, Jordan, Syria — basically the “Arab Squad” . Now, Team Maccabee and Arab Squad were not exactly besties. They were more like frenemies who had a lot of history and zero trust. One day, Egypt’s boss, President Nasser, decided to flex a bit. He told Team Maccabee, “Hey, we’re closing the Straits of Tiran! No boats for you!” Imagine someone blocking your driveway and saying, “No pizza delivery for you, ever.” Not cool. Israel was like, “Excuse me? That’s a big problem.” Tensions got higher than your cousin’s crazy holiday party drama. Then came June 5, 1967 — the day Team Maccabee said, “Okay, enough games.” Like a ninja striking in the night, Israel launched a surprise ai...

  Note:  Please note that while the topic is serious, the humor is aimed at the absurdities of international politics, not the suffering of real people. Chapter 1: Enter Nasser — The Man With the Mustache and a Plan Once upon a time in Egypt, a dashing colonel-turned-president named Gamal Abdel Nasser decided he had had enough of being bossed around by Britain and France, the reigning champions of global meddling. Nasser had swagger, charisma, and a mustache that said, “I mean business.” So he took a bold step: he nationalized the Suez Canal. The Suez Canal, of course, was not just a waterway — it was the global shortcut for ships who didn’t want to take the scenic route around Africa. The British and French freaked out. Imagine someone seizing your Netflix password — but instead of shows buffering, oil shipments were getting delayed. Chapter 2: Britain and France Call a Friend (and It's Not America) Britain and France were livid. Their reaction? "How dare you take our cana...

  The First Arab-Israeli War: When Everyone Tried to Play Musical Chairs, But the Chairs Were On Fire Picture this: It’s 1948, and the British Empire just decided to pack up and leave Palestine like it forgot its lunchbox at school. Everyone was left staring at this hot potato called “Who’s gonna run this place?” The United Nations said, “Let’s split it!” — kind of like dividing a pizza, but no one really liked the toppings. So Israel popped up declaring independence, and the neighboring Arab countries were like, “Hold up, what? No way!” and rushed in like kids fighting over the last slice of pizza. This kicked off what history calls the First Arab-Israeli War, but honestly, it was more like a chaotic backyard brawl with tanks, guns, and a lot of confused shouting. The Cast of Characters: Israelis: New kids on the block, armed mostly with whatever leftover gear they could find, including some stuff smuggled in like sneaky party crashers. Arab Coalition: Egypt, Jordan, Syria,...

  Indigenous defence production surge:::: Act I: The Humble Beginnings Post-independence, India's defense production was akin to assembling IKEA furniture without the manual. The nation relied heavily on imports, with domestic production limited to basic equipment. The establishment of the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) in 1958 marked the first significant step towards self-reliance. However, progress was slow, and the military often found itself equipped with outdated gear, leading to the infamous "import and hope for the best" strategy. Act II: The Awakening The 1990s brought a realization: dependency on foreign arms was neither sustainable nor strategic. The Kargil conflict underscored the need for indigenous capabilities. Initiatives like the "Make in India" campaign aimed to invigorate domestic defense manufacturing. However, early efforts often resembled a Bollywood dance sequence—lots of movement, but not always in sync. Act III:...