Kosambi, Marxism and Indian History

(This article is taken from the 26 July 2008 EPW issue  on DD Kosambi (download pdf version)

By Irfan Habib

(Irfan Habib is professor emeritus, Department of History, Aligarh Muslim University, Aligarh.)

Summary: D D Kosambi profoundly redefined the message that Marxism had for historians. What set him apart from others who “applied” Marxism to Indian history was his determination to maintain, indeed increase the standard of rigour in his factual and textual research, for Marxism dealt with a far more extensive area than the one over which research had conventionally been conducted. Guided by the basic thesis about how social evolution occurs, he rejected the view that India had ever passed through a phase of slavery; rather it was the construction of caste society that happened here. The reasons for his acceptance of a stage of feudalism spanning the period from that of the Guptas to the Mughals are most interesting.

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It was a happy day for Indian historiography when  D D Kosambi began to take interest in the interpretation of  the past of Indian society, doubtless at the expense of his studies in Mathematics, the field where he had already earned so much distinction. This shift of interest was probably not unconnected with Kosambi’s own growing sympathies with Marxism. The collection of Kosambi’s articles on history, which Brajdulal Chattopadhyaya has assembled with so much labour, contains one published as early as 1938-39, in which Kosambi cites Marx and calls attention to his articles on India, to which he had apparently gained access through a publication by the Socialist Book Club, Allahabad.1 He was later to express the grouse that the editors of this volume did not tell the reader of Marx and Engels’ writings on primitive societies.2 After Hitler’s attack on the Soviet Union in June 1941, communist literature began to be widely available in India. Kosambi himself now contributed a paper to the American Marxist journal, Science and Society, as early as 1944, on the issue of caste.3 He was apparently greatly affected by the famous passage in Marx’s Preface to his Critique of Political Economy, where Marx concisely enunciates his thesis that historical changes are brought about by the growth of contradictions in each “mode of production”, and explains how man’s “social being” shapes his action.4

‘Applying’ Marxism to Indian History

What sets Kosambi apart from some others who began to “apply” Marxism to Indian history around the same time, was his determination to maintain, and, indeed, increase, the standard of rigour in his factual and textual research. His own work on the Sanskrit poet and grammarian, Bhatrihari, published during the years 1945-48 was in the best “Orientalist” tradition. In 1949 in his review of S A Dange’s India from Primitive Communism to Slavery, published that year, he took Dange to task for his gross errors of fact and lack of linguistic comprehension, and issued a notable caution: “Marxism is not a substitute for thinking, but a tool of analysis”.5

In the same article Kosambi noted that “most of our source material was first collected, analysed and arranged by foreign scholars”, though he agreed that the British historians’ writings had been coloured by their “national and class prejudices”.6 He would not also allow any pandering to nationalist or communal prejudices. This was especially brought forth in his critical review of the first three volumes of the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan’s History and Culture of the Indian People, with K M Munshi and R C Majumdar as the principal editors. Observing that Islam’s chief contribution to India was to increase commodity production in the feudal period, he noted dryly that this was the period “when Munshis and Majumdars were created, though not their mentality”.7

For Kosambi, Marxism required more academic rigour, not less, while it dealt with a far more extensive area than the one over which research had conventionally been conducted. The post-modernist insistence on the non-separation of subject and discourse had not been heard of in his time; in fact, that separation was basic to his method. The critical tools shaped by “orientalism”, or, in India’s case, “Indology”, had to be perfected further, not thrown away or bypassed. This was the thrust of his influential paper ‘Combined Methods in Indology’, published in the most “orientalist” of journals, the Indo-Iranian Journal, in 1963.8 Here Kosambi takes up words and concepts and offers important hypotheses on the basis of critical studies of them. He also insisted on fieldwork, that is, looking at customs and practices whether recorded in the past or found, unrecorded, among contemporary primitive communities or, for that matter, among Brahmans, so as to trace earlier situations from later distorted or altered survivals.9

With the knowledge so gained, and constantly expanded, Kosambi embarked on his ambitious project of studying Indian history on the basis of his own understanding of the ideas of historical materialism laid out by Marx and Engels. An early critique of a Soviet writer D A Suleikin in 1951 and, then, a clearly outlined statement of his own views on the stages of evolution of Indian history in 1954 were preliminary indications of where his research and reflection were leading him.10

Two years later, in 1956, came Kosambi’s major historical work, An Introduction to the Study of Indian History, Bombay, which substantiated and extended his views on both how Marxist insights needed to be used to reconstruct Indian history and how history would appear after being thus reconstructed. It was not intended to be a straightforward narrative: it assumed that the reader has read the conventional “bourgeois” textbooks by V A Smith and his successors. After expressly locating his basic approach in Marxist theory, Kosambi eschewed conventional narrative and raised such problems as he thought to be important in successive periods. He, however, often enters lanes and by-lanes, linked to the main path of his argument, whether to substantiate a hypothesis by appealing to a distant piece of evidence or just to record a curiosity. He could also go forward and then come back: In his Chapter VII, Asoka came first, and “the pre-Asokan state and administration” later: this apparently seemed to him to be the more convenient way to present his argument.

From a less sure hand, such a procedure might have looked especially idiosyncratic, but the mere weight of  what Kosambi had to say reduced all such objections to petty carping.

Periodisation of Indian History

In the first place, Kosambi profoundly redefined the message that Marxism had for historians. In an attempt to impart to the Marxist perception of class struggle and its different forms the colour of universal application, the “Leningrad discussions” of the 1920s had led to the conclusion that the unilinear succession of modes of production, primitive community-slavery-feudalism-capitalism, was followed in practically all countries, except for those with very recent immigrant populations. This thesis played its part in countering the belief fostered in western social democracy that, in the words of an anti-communist propagandist, Karl A Wittfogel, “class-struggle far from being a chronic disease of all mankind is the luxury of multi-centred and open [that is, Western] societies”.11 But having played its due part in controverting such beliefs, the standard scheme of periodisation began to gravely shackle Marxist historiography. By overuse both “slavery” and “feudalism” seemed to lose all meaning when the most divergent forms of social organisation in different societies went on being assigned to these two categories, just to keep formally to the standard scheme. Kosambi now boldly asserted that Marxist historians ought to take their cue only from the basic thesis about how social evolution occurs, and not blindly apply a single prescribed pattern.

Taking the case of India, Kosambi summarily rejected the view that it had ever passed through a phase of slavery. Rather it was the construction of caste-society that happened here – a cruel form of bondage, but different, nevertheless, from slavery. He argued that the term “Asiatic” occurring in Marx’s passage in the Preface to the Critique of Political Economy should be taken to cover a case like India’s and, for this reason, the term should not be ignored, as had been done in Stalin’s interpretation of the passage.12 This did not mean that he accepted for the “Asiatic”, the sense of a stagnant despotic system, as some of Marx’s own words would suggest.

Indeed, Kosambi directly contested Marx’s observations about the “unchangeableness” of Asiatic societies. Conceding that these remarks were “acute and brilliant”, he yet held that the proposition was “misleading” and “cannot be taken as it stands”.13 It was as if Kosambi was inviting historians to take Marx’s method and apply it to Indian history on a clean slate; and his own book was to serve as an illustration of what could be achieved if this was done.

What Kosambi set out to do in his Introduction was, therefore, to investigate both the economic basis (“the means and relations of production”) and the changing beliefs, customs, and culture (“superstructure”) and their mutual relationships. In carrying out this task he raised questions that conventional historians too found challenging and exciting. For example, should not the technology of production be closely studied, so as to understand the nature of the social organisation that corresponded to it? Quite early in his book he commented:

The villages did not exist “from times immemorial”. The advance of plough-using agrarian village economy over tribal India is a great historical achievement by itself.14

Before Kosambi, little work had been done on the history of technology in India; his senior friend, P K Gode, was practically the lone scholar in the field, with a series of papers on the most diverse devices and processes of manufacture in ancient and medieval times. But the evidence available had not yet been assembled and critically analysed. Kosambi underlined the importance of this aspect of history by his numerous references to tools and products, such as the late use of the shaft-hole axe or the arrival of the coconut no earlier than the first century AD.

On the other side of the spectrum was religion: Kosambi saw in religious beliefs and ritual the reflections of economic and social circumstances which he so loved to trace often in minute detail.16 Religion was also the means by which exploited classes could be kept reconciled to their position, believing it to be divinely ordained, and, by such consent, reducing the amount of violence (with the expenses involved) which would be otherwise needed to keep them under control.17 To Kosambi, this role of religion provides the key to a proper understanding of the rise of the caste system.

Rise of the Caste system

To begin with, he had no quarrel with the suggestion made by many Indologists that the Shudra class arose largely out of the subjugated Dasas, though some of the latter were admitted into the Aryan fold as well. Such a situation, however, would not of itself create a caste system as the parallel Iranian development showed.18 The evidence as to how castes were created could be seen in the evolution of the priestly Brahman caste.

Kosambi shows that Brahman priests did not belong to any tribe and there were non-Aryan priests who also entered their ranks. He concluded that the Brahmans created the model for the other castes: “With him (the Brahman)”, he says, “begins the later reorganisation into caste”.19 The priest served not only as the model but also, of course, the religious spokesman of the caste system. There was another process too behind the formation of castes, namely, “tribal elements” being “fused into a general society”.20 Kosambi appeals to contemporary ethnography to show how endogamous tribes or clans have been absorbed into society as castes.21 In a sense, then, priestly consolidation, on the one hand, and tribal absorption into the agrarian population, on the other, have been the historical sources for the creation of a caste system, serving for India’s major institutional frame for exploitative relationships. One can here go back to what Kosambi had said in his 1954 ISCUS article:

Caste is class at a primitive level of production, a religious method of forming social consciousness in such a manner that the primary producer is deprived of his surplus with the minimum coercion.22

Indian Feudalism

Kosambi has much to say in the Introduction about the growth of the states, the rise of Jainism and Buddhism, the punch-marked coins and the economy of the Mauryan Empire. Important as many points made by Kosambi about these themes are, lack of space forbids a discussion of these here. However, one cannot leave Kosambi’s reconstruction of Indian history without a comment on his acceptance of a stage of feudalism spanning the period from that of the Guptas to the Mughals.

Kosambi recognised that the elements of demesne-farming and serfdom, crucial to the Marxian perception of feudalism as a mode of production, were missing here; but he believed that other features were common between the Indian and European forms, viz, low level of production techniques, growth of rusticity and decline of urban life, political decentralisation and service tenures, and that these justified one to designate the mode of production in India for well over a millennium as “feudal”.23 In the political and fiscal spheres, he discerned two different processes of feudalisation: (1) “From above”, when centralised states created local rights by grants and concessions; and (2) “From below”, when “landowners developed from within the village [to stand] between the state and the peasantry”.24 There seems to be an echo here of Marx’s formulation about capitalists emerging from above (merchants) and below (craftsmen). It may be noted that Kosambi’s remarks about the period of Muslim dynasties (thirteenth to seventeenth centuries) also contain many important insights and suggestions: For instance, we have  from him the significant proposition that “Islamic raiders” played “a role similar to that of the Aryans over two millennia earlier, in breaking down hidebound custom, in the adoption and transmission of new technique”.25

One needs to stress that like any work of history, Kosambi’s work too is limited by the evidence available at the time it was composed; and there is the further matter of the range of an author’s own extent of knowledge (vast enough in Kosambi’s case) and his own subjective preferences when attempting an analysis of existing evidence. Kosambi asked questions few or none had asked before, and as a pioneer many of the solutions he proposed needed verification. Some assumptions (such as the one regarding the absence of plough in the Indus Civilisation) were not sustained as more evidence came to light. For Kosambi himself, the Introduction was not the end-product of his research. He continued to contribute research papers and published two important collections of essays,26 and a straightforward restatement of his major findings in The Culture and Civilisation of Ancient India in Historical Outline, published from London in 1965.27 Death took Kosambi away the very next year when he was at the height of his powers – not yet even 60. But he had done enough to ensure that history-writing in India would not be the same again.

A Personal Note

On late December evening in 1963 at Pune, Barun De (later to be professor and director, Centre for the Study of Social Sciences, Kolkata) and I called on Kosambi at his house. I had arranged the interview on telephone but perhaps I was not able to explain clearly who both of us were, since we had no claim on his attention other than a desire to have his darshan. He apparently thought we were some Soviet scholars. As may be imagined he was none too pleased when he found that we were not the guests he expected. A certain coolness on his part was the natural result and Kosambi was not the one to hide it. He spoke acidly of his bad experience with some people at my university (Aligarh) where he had served early in his career.

Seeking to turn the conversation into other channels, Barun mentioned that we were due to attend H D Sankalia’s lecture the next day. This too did not help matters: “Oh, Sankalia! He would show you how the primitive people of Narbada culture had windows in their houses, as if they were cottages in Sussex.” (Sankalia must have had some telepathic means of knowing about our conversation, because the next evening he began his lecture with a respectful reference to Kosambi as a theoretician, while he himself was only a fieldworker. The windows, however, were there on the slides.) When exactly interpreting prehistory and tracing its distorted survivals in living communities. We had an evening to remember all our lives. Kosambi later visited Aligarh especially to see the early iron site of Atranji Khera. He had wonderful stamina, and when I received him at the railway station, he insisted on carrying his own rucksack. Who could then imagine we would so soon lose him for ever?


Notes

1 ‘The Emergence of National Characteristics among Three Indo-European Peoples’, reprinted:

D D Kosambi, Combined Methods in Indology and Other Writings

(ed), Brajdulal Chattopadhyaya

(henceforth Combined Methods), pp 753-61. A very useful list of Kosambi’s publications would be found in V V Gokhale, ‘Damodar Dharmanand Kosambi’, in R S Sharma and D N Jha, Indian Society, Historical Probings: In Memory of D D Kosambi, New Delhi 1974, pp 4-15.

2. An Introduction to the Study of Indian History (hereafter, Introduction), Bombay, 1956, pp 15-16, fn 15.

3. Combined Methods, pp 773-79.

4 Karl Marx, A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, trans S W Ryazanskaya (ed), Maurice Dobb, Moscow, 1978, pp 20-22. This passage has been quoted most widely, perhaps of all of Marx’s pronouncements, and the English renderings of the German original have varied.

5 ‘Marxism and Ancient Indian Culture’ in

Combined Methods, pp 784-89.

6 Ibid, p 785.

7 ‘What Constitutes Indian History’ in

Combined Methods, pp 790-96; for words quoted, see p 796.

8 Combined Methods, pp 3-29.

9 See a late paper of his ‘Living Prehistory in India’,Scientific American (February 1967), reprinted in: Combined Methods, pp 30-48.

10  ‘On a Marxist Approach to Indian Chronology’ (1951) in Combined Methods, pp 49-56, and ‘Stages in Indian History’ (1954) in Combined Methods,

pp 57-71. Since the latter article was published in ISCUS, the journal of Indo-Soviet Cultural Society, this was the first piece by Kosambi that I happened to read and remember being struck by its self-confident note.

11 Oriental Despotism – A Comparative Study in Total Power, Yale University Press, 1957, p 329. Kosambi’s own criticism of this work has been reprinted in Combined Methods, pp 797-801.

12  Introduction, pp 8-14.

13  Ibid, pp 10-11.

14  Ibid, p 11.

15  Ibid, pp 61, 255-56.

16 I select at random the following comment: “Among names common to several of our sources that of Iksvaku (an obscure chief in RV, 10.60.4) occurs as founder of the Kosalan line of kings. The derivation is from iksu = sugar cane (first men- tion, AV, 1.34.5; also a kind of gourd), obviously totemic, presumably pre Aryan” (p 118).

17 See, eg, pp 58-62, the context of the Indus Civili- sation. Kosambi was writing just before Gramsci’s concept of “hegemony” entered common use.

18 See pp 91-96.

19 See pp 96-101; quoted words on p 100. 20 See p 25.

21 See pp 25-34. Combined Methods, p 59.

22 See Introduction, pp 326-28.

23 Ibid, p 275.

24 Ibid, pp 340-41. Exasperating Essays: Exercise in the Dialectical Method, Poona, 1957, and Myth and Reality: Studies in the Formation of Indian Culture, Bombay, 1962. Characteristically, Kosambi spoke in his Preface to this book of the tendency to talk “about India’s glo- rious past, unhampered by fact or commonsense”, while he disowned any intention on his own part to indulge in “scholarly display”.

The Two-Vat System of Indigo Manufacture

William Finch and F. Pelsaert on the other hand describe the two-vat system which prevailed in the Bayana-Agra-Kol region during the seventeenth Century. According to their description, there were pairs of a rectangular and circular tanks or vats in which the indigo was processed to extract the dye.

The stems and leaves of the indigo plant were first placed in a rectangular vat, the ‘long cisterne’ of Finch and the ‘put’of Pelsaert, where they were covered with water and steeped for a period of time: 16 or 17 hours according to Pelsaert; 24 hours according to Francis Fettiplace; 48 hours according to Mundy; or ‘for certaine dayes’ according to Finch.

This tank was ‘well plastered’ with lime to check any seepage and had a depth of ‘the height of an ordinary man’. According to Pelsaert the yield of one bigha or ‘12 or 20 ser according to the yield’ could be held by each of these ‘put’ or vats. The pressing of the steeped leaves and stalks of the indigo plant in these rectangular tanks was done by pressing the material ‘with many stones’. It was due to this that these rectangular tanks were also known as the ‘steeping tanks’.

These steeping vats were connected to circular tanks or cisterns which were situated at a somewhat lower level. After the ‘substance of the herbe be gone into the water’ as a result of steeping and stone-pressing, the mixture was transferred into these circular vats or tanks, which according to both Finch and Pelsaert had a small ‘bowl-shaped’ receptacle at its base. Once transferred, two or three men standing inside the vat, either stirred the liquid with ‘back and forth movement of their arms’ or stirred it with ‘great staves, like batter or white starch’. This beating and stirring continued from around 6 hours to 16 hours, all the while mixing ‘a little oil’ before letting it stand for a day or so to allow the heavy matter and pigments in the resultant blue water to settle below in the bowl-shaped receptacles.

Lucas Antheunis, writing about indigo processing at Masulipatam on the other hand, informs about mixing of a particular fruit to bring the required thickness and hue:

Here is some very fine and good and may make it generally so but that in seething they mingle with it the rinds of certain fruit like green Spanish figs, which makes it heavy and takes away his colour more or less, according as they put thereof in.

The clear water which was left at the top was then drawn out either manually or by ‘opening holes made round the tank’.

The process of beating, stirring and settling was repeated till ‘only a thicke substance’ remained. According to Pelsaert there was ‘an outlet at the level of the bottom’ of the circular beating vat through which the remaining water was drained.

The wet pure indigo which had sunk to the bowl-shaped receptacle was now collected and taken out to be dried. According to Pelsaert, the bottom of the put was spread with ashes ‘to form a crust’ and probably help in easy removal of the indigo.

The drying of the indigo was in two stages: first the substance was poured on a cotton cloth spread on the ground so that the extra water was soaked by the soil; and then the semi-dry indigo was then shaped by hand or cut into balls or cakes and kept for further drying on the sand. Ultimately the dry balls of indigo were then kept in earthen vessels which were closed tightly to prevent further drying sue to sun and winds.

Wet-leaf Method of Indigo Manufacture in Mughal India: The Single Vat System

The popular method employed in all the indigo tracts appears to be the ‘wet-leaf’ method in which the stalks and leaves of the indigo plant were soaked to extract the dye. However this method had two variants: the single vat system and the two-vat technique. We have the testimony of Pelsaert that the first technique was prevalent in the regions of Mewat and Sarkhej, while the second prevailed in the Bayana and the Kol-Khurja tracts:

The method of manufacture [in Mewat] is that of Sarkhej rather than Bayana; the steeping of the plant, and the working back and forward to extract the dye from the leaves are done in a single put, whereas in Bayana or Gorsa [Khurja] two are used…

Tavernier is much more detailed when he explains this single-vat system in Gujarat. According to him:

The tanks are generally from 80 to 100 paces in circuit, and when half-full of water, or a little more, they are filled up with the cut plant. The Indians mix it and stir it up with the water every day until the leaf – for the stem is of no account – becomes reduced into slime or greasy earth. This done, they allow it to rest for some days, and when they see that all has sunk to the bottom and that the water is clear above, they open the holes made round the tank to allow the water to escape. The water having been drawn off, they then fill baskets with the slime, after which, in a level field, each man sits near his basket, takes this paste in his fingers, and moulds it into pieces of the shape and size of a hen’s egg cut in two – that is to say, flat below and pointed above. But the indigo of Ahmadabad is flattened and made into the shape of a small cake…

From the account of Peter Mundy it appears that the steeping and stirring of the stalks and leaves to extract indigo pigment took around 48 hours before the ‘water receaves the Coulour’.

This single-vat technique of manufacturing indigo was ‘inferior’ and resulted in a low quality of dye. This is specifically mentioned by a factor at Surat, who in

1648 wrote to Bayana:

…this sort will not come up to expectations as regards goodness; for it, being to my knowledge, made in one chebecha [chāhbacha] can not compare with what is made in Coriah [Khurja] itself.

Thus from these descriptions to appears that in this system there were single circular vats called chāhbachas (artificial wells; lit. sons of wells) which were used both for steeping and beating purposes to extract the indigo dye from the plant.

The Dry-Leaf Method of Indigo Dye Manufacture in North India During 16th-17th Centuries

A perusal of the sources indicates that there was more than one method to extract indigo from the plants.

Linschoten is one of the first to describe the making of indigo at Cambay.

Writing about 1594-96 he remarks:

[it] is sown like other hearbes, and when [time and] season serveth, pulled and dryed, and then is made welle and beaten, and so certayne dayes after dryed againe, and then prepared. At first it is a fine greene, but after it is a fayre blew…

This ‘dry leaf’ method however is referred to in the context of indigo manufacture in the Sarkhej region only and is also mentioned by Mandelslo and Geleynssen de Jongh. According to de Jongh, as per this method, the leaves were sun-dried and then shaken off from the twigs and kept in a vat for 4 to 5 days.

The soaking of the colour in water within the vat was further facilitated through repeated stirrings and beatings. The rotting leaves and the dye-soaked water were then shifted to another tank where it was let to remain for one or two days to let the heavy pigments of the dye to settle down. The clear water from the top was removed and the residue with the pigments was then strained and let to dry in the sun and ultimately

cut into pieces.

Joseph Salbancke visited Bayana in 1609 and his is the earliest eye-witness description of the technique of manufacturing and extracting indigo at Bayana. According to him, in the ‘Indico milles’ the plants after being cut

…lyeth on heapes for halfe a yeere to rot, and then by oxen it is trodden out from the stalkes, and after wards is ground very fine, and then boiled in furnaces, and so sorted out into severall sorts.

This ‘dry-leaf method’ is significantly not mentioned by any other contemporary traveller as far as North India is concerned.

The Myriad Colours of the Blossoms of My Garden, AMU!

These are the days when attempts to see everything as a monochrome are being made: this is saffron, that is green. By doing this we are committing the folly of not appreciating the variety and explosion of colour in a garden! Remember the vibrancy of a polychrome as compared to the dullness of a monotony! Riot of colour symbolises to gaiety, while opposite is implied by a single black or white!

Let’s look at my alma mater: it represents almost all colours of the rainbow: the green of Islam, the saffron of Hinduism, red of communism, the mustard of Sikhism and so on and so forth! It’s a Garden with myriads of flowers of every shade and colour….

Do you know that Ishwari Prasad was the first graduate from Aligarh Muslim University? [Incidentally he is not the famous historian of that name!]

And that the famous Damodar Dharmananda Kosambi (31 July 1907 – 29 June 1966) was initially a lecturer of Mathematics there (from 1931-34)?

Jadav Chandra Chakravarti (1855 – 26 November 1920) who was a famous mathematician and author of books like Arithmetic and Algebra taught at AMU? He joined MAO College in 1888 and retired in 1916.

Or Piara Singh Gill (28 October 1911 – 23 March 2002) a nuclear physicist who was a pioneer in Cosmic Ray Nuclear Physics was Professor and head of the Department of Physics at AMU from 1949 to 1963.

Or that Satish Chandra (20 November 1922 – 13 October 2017) spent most of his academic career at Aligarh?

Or that the Atranjikhera site which definitively brought the association of PGW culture (I.e. Vedic Culture) with iron, was excavated by Professor RC Gaur (1929-89), who taught at AMU?

Did you know that the first VC of AMU was a Shia and the first Chancellor, a woman?

Maharaja Sir Mohammad Ali Mohammad Khan, Khan Bahadur, KCSI, KCIE (4 June 1878 – 23 March 1931) was the Vice Chancellor of AMU between 1920-23

Nawab Sultan Jahan Begum (9 July 1858 – 12 May 1930) was the Chancellor from 1920 to her death in 1930.

Another Shia, Allama Saiyid Sibtul Hasan (1908-78) helped establish the world renowned Manuscript Section of the Maulana Azad Library where he served as its Incharge between 1958-71. His Minhāj i Nahjul Balāghah was amongst the first works to challenge those doubting the authenticity of Nahjul Balaghah the word of Imām Ali.

Further that AMU is the only University in India which has an independent Department of Shia Theology where such world renowned Shia theologians and scholars like Allāma Saiyid Ali Naqi Naqavi, (1905-88): undoubtedly the most influential 20th Century Shia scholar of India; Allāma Mujtaba Hasan Kamoonpuri (d. c 1973) and Allāma Saiyid Kalbe Abid (1923-86) taught and served.

Allāma Saiyid Ali Naqi Naqavi

Allāma Saiyid Kalbe Abid Naqvi

Did you know that Sir Syed himself collected a large number of sculptures? Both Hindu and Jain? And that they are still proudly displayed at the Central University Museum at AMU?

And that at the time when he founded the MAO College, he ordained that the University Jami Masjid would hold two congregations five times a day: one led by a Sunni Imām and another by a Shia! And that even on Fridays and Eids the Shias and Sunnis both will pray in the same mosque?

My Garden even has a common graveyard where Muslims of all sects find their resting place!

Not only this, but my garden boasts of many illustrious scholars known for their secular and non-religious ideology: Thus we had Professor Mohammad Habib (1895-71), a scholar with mystical approach who founded and shaped the Marxist Historiographical traditions, especially in the field of Medieval India. His book Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni laid the foundation of secular, scientific and Marxian approach to writing Medieval Indian history. DD Kosambi, the first Indian Marxist historian has already been mentioned earlier.

Another such person was Professor Kunwar Pal Singh (1937-2009). He considered illiteracy and communalism as a national threat and dedicated his life for the eradication of the scourge. He was an advocate of composite culture and organized several symposium and workshops to promote Urdu language and literature as well. The great ideals and traditional values of Aligarh Muslim University lived in his persona and he remained to be an epitome of the Aligarianism that an Aligarian is known for the world over.

One such individual who in fact is an institution in himself is Professor Irfan Habib (b. 1931), one of the living legends of History and a Marxist historian. He is well known for his strong stance against Hindutva and Muslim communalists. His Agrarian System of Mughal India published initially in 1963 is considered the Bible of Medieval Indian History.

And this is the beauty of my garden which was laid down by Sir Syed and that is why it is a beacon of hope in these conflicting times!

• Syed Ali Nadeem Rezavi