Monday, 11 April 2011

White Wedding Dress journey

What was unexpected in 1840 became tradition in the following decades as Queen Victoria walked down the aisle in white. Through the years, the white wedding dress has had a long dramatic journey as royalties and celebrities continue to change the trends.
This Feb. 10, 1840 file image shows an illustration of the wedding of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in the Chapel Royal at St. James's Palace in England. Queen Victoria's white ballgown changed the way brides dressed for years to come. The traditional or white wedding dress that we know today came as a result of her wedding.

History: Who was the Designer of Taj Mahal

Stunning view of Taj Mahal


In the small ancient Christian graveyard behind the famous Ewing Hall at Nila Gumbad, where also lie buried many European indigo planters of the Mughal era, is a lonely grave to one side. The cemetery keeper claims that he had heard from his elders that the unmarked grave was of a man who was executed after he ‘designed’ the Taj Mahal.

It was an amazing assertion, but one that stuck in my mind. Recently while reading a research paper by an Italian scholar on sub-continental architecture I came across the claim that the “real architect” of the Taj Mahal was Geronimo Veroneo, the Venetian designer who was executed in Lahore in 1640 after he was imprisoned by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan in the Lahore Fort. The assertion was, incorrect that it turned out to be, that he was executed after allegedly completing his work.

It is documented that Veroneo was executed by a Portuguese Christian missionary Father Joseph de Castro on the orders of the emperor. He did not want a Muslim or a Hindu to execute a Christian. It is well-known that the real architect of the Taj Mahal was Ustad Ahmed Lahori. But then as the Italians have some ‘flimsy’ proof of their claim; it makes sense to explore this possibility. Our interest emanates basically from the fact that this entire episode took place in Lahore, for Veroneo was staying in a ‘haveli’ in Tehsil Bazaar, just off Bazaar Hakeeman.

I revisited the Nila Gumbad graveyard and traced the cemetery keeper, who still claimed that the unmarked grave was of a man who made the Taj Mahal, and who was executed by the emperor. This his elders had learnt down the generations. It made sense that as the Taj Mahal was designed in Lahore by a famous son of the city, Ustad Ahmed Lahori, whose ancestors include the famous artist Chughtai, this mystery should be explored.

There is no doubt that the initial drawings of the Taj Mahal were made in Lahore by Ustad Ahmed, also known as Ustad Ahmed Lahori. He worked in a house just next to the Old Kotwali near the Wazir Khan mosque inside Delhi Gate. He was assisted, as an equal, by a renowned Turkish architect named Ismail Effendi, who designed the domes and hemispheres only.

Once this was completed, Ustad Ahmed called upon his friend Qazim Khan, also of Lahore and who lived in Taxali, to design the gold finial that were to top the domes. It was, therefore, a joint effort by specialists. The final drawings were then jointly completed by Ustad Isa, a Turk and a master draftsman, and Ustad Ahmed Lahori.

Just where does the Venetian Veroneo come in? A number of Italian researchers in the late 19th century put forward the theory that the Taj Mahal was actually, initially, designed by Geronimo Veroneo. This new theory is based on a mention by Father Manrique, an Augustinian Friar, who came to Agra in 1640 A.D. to secure the release of Father Antony who had been imprisoned by the Mughals. His diaries were published after his death in Lisbon, and in them this suggestion was put forward that Veroneo designed the Taj Mahal, but that the emperor passed on his drawing to Ustad Ahmed Lahori.

This assertion, it seems, is based on his meeting with Father Joseph de Castro, the executor of Veroneo, who also died in Lahore in 1640, and it was Castro who told him about “the Venetian by the name Geronimo Veroneo, who came in the Portuguese ships, and was executed by him in the city of Lahore …”.

It is clear that Father Manrique never met Veroneo, and that he reached Lahore after Veroneo had been executed by Father Castro, and it was Father Castro, it seems, who informed Manrique that before his execution Veroneo told him that the cause of his ‘death sentence’ by Shah Jahan was because he had designed the Taj Mahal.

My research into this execution, which is based on an official court account, has come up with another reason. Veroneo was a renowned goldsmith and designer. He was involved in pilfering gold while designing jewellery for the emperor’s family. He was also accused of stealing a number of precious gems, including a huge diamond. All the jewels were recovered and he was executed. However, the emperor made sure that a Christian executed the man, and as the friar was in Lahore, he was ordered to carry out the sentence. The official record says that he was buried two ‘kos’ from the city’s Lohari Gate “near the road that turned towards Icharra”. That seems a pretty close approximation of the Nila Gumbad graveyard.

The theory that Veroneo designed the Taj Mahal does find some support in Europe, more so in Italy. But surely the evidence weighs heavily against such a possibility. The testimony, if one can call it that, of Father Manrique, is the sole string on which such a belief hangs. We know that a large number of specialists were collected by Ustad Ahmed Lahori. Besides his friend of Lahore, Qazim Khan, who cast the gold finial that tops the dome, he called in Chiranji Lal from Delhi, who was a renowned mosaic pattern designer.

From Shiraz in Iran, the master calligrapher, Amanat Khan, was called. From Baluchistan came the master stone cutter Amir Ali. Ustad Isa of Tukey and Ustad Ahmad of Lahore are, however, credited to have been the main architects. It is believed that their design embodied much of what the Emperor wanted to express. Among the other major persons involved in the building of the Taj Mahal was Mohammed Hanif of Multan, who was a master marble tile layer. Mukrimat Khan of Delhi and Mir Abdul Karim from Shiraz were the chief supervisor and administrator. During a search for material for this piece, I came across a list of persons, and the money they were paid, which must be shared with the reader. Ustad Isa, the master draftsman was paid Rs1,000, or at current prices this comes to 333 tolas of gold or Rs13.3 million. Ustad Ismail Khan Rumi, the dome expert was paid Rs500, Muhammad Sharif of Samarkand, the pinnacle expert was paid Rs500, Kasim Khan of Lahore was paid Rs295, Muhammad Hanif of Kandahar, the master mason was paid Rs1,000, Muhammad Sayeed of Multan, a master mason was paid Rs590, while Abu Torah of Multan, a master mason was paid Rs500.
The master calligrapher Amanat Khan of Shiraz was paid Rs1,000, while Muhammad Khan of Baghdad, a calligrapher, was paid Rs500, and Raushan Khan of Syria was paid Rs300.
The inlay worker family of Chirrani Lal, Munnu Lal and Chooto Lal were paid Rs800, 380 and 200, respectively. The lavish pays made sure that the very highest skills were used. It is said that the building of the Taj Mahal led to the bankruptcy of the Mughal Empire, and this was the main reason the son of Emperor Shah Jahan, the Emperor Aurangzeb, dethroned his father and led an austere life. The dwindling financial health of the Mughal court led to its collapse.

We now come to the popular myth that Ustad Ahmed Lahori was mistreated by the emperor once the masterpiece was completed. This has no basis in fact. The family record states that he dies a normal death. The myth is that the emperor got the architect blinded and had his hands cut off so that he could never again design a masterpiece to rival the Taj. The reality is that Ustad Ahmad returned to Lahore, where his sons set up a flourishing construction business. He died a much respected man. He is also credited with having designed the Red Fort of Delhi.

Friday, 8 April 2011

Cricket jokes

The disgruntled batsman stormed into the pavilion and flung down his bat. “Terrible,” he shouted. “I’ve never played so badly before.”

The captain looked up. “Oh, you’ve played before, have you?”

******

The standard of batting in the local side was very low. Even at the net practice, they couldn’t hit a thing.

Finally, the captain rushed forward and grabbed the bat. “Now bowl me some fast ones!” he yelled.

Six fast balls came down in quick succession and the captain missed them all. Not to be put off, he glared at the team and

shouted, “Now that’s what you’re all doing. Get in there and hit them!”

******

The batsman had a large opinion of his prowess. He was approached by a club member, who couldn’t resist saying to him,
“You know, whenever I watch you bat, I always wonder…”

Batsman: “I know, I know. How I do it.”

Club member: “No. Why you do it.”

******

The bowler had a dreadful match which cost his side the game. All week long he practiced hard for the next game. During the
following match, he said to the captain, “Notice any difference?”

The captain looked at him thoughtfully. “You’ve had your hair cut, haven’t you?”

******

The captain called the batsman into his room. “We’ve got some very tough matches coming up,” he said, “and I wanted to talk
to you because we need someone with an iron nerve, a strong constitution and great skill in the side. And that’s why I’m asking
you to resign.”

******

A bowler was disgusted by several of the umpire’s decisions.
“Have you got a minute?” he asked.

“Yes,” said the umpire.

“Well, tell me all you know about cricket.”

******

In a village match, one of the batsmen received a fast ball which caught him in the mouth and broke several teeth. The next
year, in the return match, he faced the same bowler.

“I hope you’re not after my teeth this year,” he said.

“No,” grinned the bowler, “this time it’s the stumps I’m after!”

******

The local game had been a bitter affair, with neither side giving anything away and an unusual amount of hostile bowling.
Several injuries were sustained, and after the game one of the batsmen was seen pacing up and down the pitch.

“Ah, I see you’re reliving the battle,” said the grounds man.

“No,” said the player. “I’m looking for my teeth.

******

The batsman was new to the side, and in his first innings he did so badly that the crowd began to slow hand-clap and barrack
him. Things got worse. The language got more and more abusive, his play-more inept, and finally, he was out. As he dashed for
the pavilion, rotten fruit and eggs were thrown at him, but he managed to gain the safety of the dressing-room, where the
captain was waiting for him.

“Blimey!” panted the batsman, “they don’t like that umpire, do they?”

Fleeting nature of life

Cherry blossoms, symbols of the fleeting nature of life, are blooming in Tokyo but many of the usual boisterous parties will be cancelled as Japan reels from its quake, tsunami and nuclear disasters. And in Washington, thousands braved cold weather and downpour, to enjoy the cherry blossoms, a highlight of the US capital’s cultural calendar. Some 3,000 cherry trees were given to Washington as a gift from the mayor of Tokyo in 1912 as a symbol of US-Japanese friendship.–Photos by AP & AFP

A sparrow sits on a branch of a fully bloomed cherry tree at Tokyo's Ueno Park.

Friday, 25 February 2011

Flight: Fly like an eagle

Bo was lying back in the grass enjoying the warmth of the sunshine after a long cold winter, daydreaming about catching supper when his attention was caught by a lone eagle floating around on invisible currents of air.

“Aah!” he thought in envy. “If only I could fly around like that I would know exactly where to hunt supper instead of having to spend hours and hours tracking something edible across the endless plains while having to keep looking over my shoulder for something like a sabre-toothed tiger tracking me!”

Sucking the last bit of marrow out off a chunk of hairy mammoth bone, Bo concentrated on the eagle a little longer and then, with a wild shout, heaved himself up, brushed his matted hair away from his eyes, squinted into the distance then took off running as fast as his hairy legs would go — flapping his long arms up and down in the hope that he would, if he tried hard enough, be able to fly like the eagle! And, just for a moment, he thought he’d done it as suddenly there was air, not ground, beneath his feet which is when he realised that he’d run straight off a short, sharp, drop!

Luckily for Bo, he landed without hurting anything other than his pride, as two other hunters witnessed his incredible performance and would, no doubt, rush straight back to tell everyone else in his little tribe what they had seen. Not to be put off, Bo next tried fastening feathers all over his animal hide clothes and even in his hair and beard, doing this miles away from their shared cave so that no one would see, of course, as he didn’t want everyone laughing at him again.

He’d forgotten about the eagle though; it watched this strange human creature flapping around in frenzy on the ground and then, to its utter astonishment, watched it jump off a really high cliff, flap its feather covered arms two or three times and then fall, straight down on to the rocks with a horrifying splat!

‘A convenient dinner,’ thought the eagle hoping that humans would continue this new sport thus saving him hunting time in the process.This sad event took place thousands and thousands of years ago when human beings were learning how to make the best of life in the world as they knew it and Bo really was ahead of the times when it came to dreaming up inventions. Bo and his tribe inhabited what later became Eastern Europe and, over the next few thousand years, they slowly but surely migrated eastwards until, in around 400BC — one of Bo’s descendants — a young man called Bi, glued together some pieces of paper, fastened them to a wooden frame, tied a piece of string to the contraption and thus invented what is still known as a kite.

Bi, by the way, lived in ancient China where colourful kites of all descriptions soon became part and parcel of the scene although, much to Bi’s disappointment, he didn’t manage to make one strong enough to carry a man up into the air which, like Bo, is what he had hoped to achieve.

Other descendants of Bo, scattered all over the world by now, repeatedly made wings out of feathers, wood and cloth and other odd items in their countless attempts to fly like the eagle. But as human arm muscles are much weaker than bird wing muscles, none of them manage more than a hop or a skip and many of them, sadly to say, emulating Bo by going splat!

Mankind’s fascination with flight didn’t diminish in the slightest and, if anything, grew stronger than ever, eventually driving a relatively modern day descendant of Bo, an Italian genius called Leonardo da Vinci — another guy way ahead of his time just like Bo — to sit down and design, amongst other things, the ‘Ornithopter’ back in the year of 1485. This amazing flying machine, on which today’s helicopters are based, didn’t actually get off the drawing board but the intention was obviously there and, if Leonardo da Vinci had really got his act together and successfully built and flown the Ornithopter at that time, history would have been very different indeed!

Three hundred years down the line, in 1783, something did finally get in the air: two French brothers, Joseph Michel and Jacques Etienne Montgolfier, direct descendants of Bi’s grandmother’s sister’s brother’s first cousin twice removed known, for the record, as Ba. They invented the very first hot air balloon made from Chinese silk with a passenger basket slung underneath. On its maiden flight it rose to 6,000ft in the air and flew for approximately one mile with its live passengers, a sheep, a rooster and a duck, wondering what on earth was going on!

Having proven that their idea worked, the brothers soon began flying people around which really encouraged yet another distant descendant of Bo who, like the brothers, was quite unaware of his bloodline, to go one better. George Cayley this man was called, designed a number of gliders between 1799 and the 1850s and a little boy, name unknown but definitely one of the tribe, had the dubious pleasure of being the very first person to actually ‘glide’.

The first long distance glider capable of carrying a human passenger was designed and flown by a German engineer, relationship to Bo not known, called Otto Lilienthal in 1891. And he personally flew over 2500 times before being killed in an aviation accident. He did, however, write a major book on aerodynamics, published in 1889 and on which the Wright Brothers based their own designs.

The Wright Brothers, Orville and Wilbur, American descendants of Bo, are credited with being the very first people to actually fly. Beginning with one of Bi’s kites, they studied every conceivable theory of flight, including the need for an engine to keep them in the air, eventually coming up with ‘The Flyer’, an aeroplane which lifted off from flat ground to the north of a place called Big Kill Devil Hill, a name Bo would have appreciated, at 10: 35am December 17th, 1903, with Orville at the controls.

Since that time, countless varieties of flying machines have taken to the air, transporting people and goods all over the world and even, once rockets arrived on the scene, taking man to the moon and beyond. Bo would really have been delighted by the following which is all he really wanted. There are a wide variety of hang-gliders and propulsion backpacks which enable just a single person to soar like an eagle and even to hunt down supper if that is their intent!

Story time: Deep water

There once was a river as wide as an ocean and my petrifying adventure began there. They called it the Ghostly River and spoke of its mysterious nature and mothers scared the children to sleep just by mentioning its name.

I felt scared and provoked, so I decided to find out for myself what happened to everyone who went there. One day I went there and stealthily I crept nearer and nearer until a great tidal wave of what seemed like ice, swept over me. I felt nothing but cold. There was a horribly painful drowning sensation before everything went black.

I woke up in darkness and lay on an immensely uncomfortable surface that felt like a bed of nails. I just managed to sit up in tons of slimy, slippery seaweed. I don’t know how far I swam, but it felt like miles. Suddenly I realised that I needed to get out and fast.

I swam up with all the strength I could gather, sliced through the water and suck in a breath of fresh air. I was drained and exhausted by then. The bitter cold water had started to pierce my skin and chill my bones. I started sinking deeper and deeper.

And then appeared a light and soft hand that clutched mine. I was frozen but the warm embrace was bringing me to life. I could taste the feint familiar scent and it roused me from the deep slumber….

It was a cold morning and my quilt had slipped on the floor. I was shivering in cold when my mother arrived to wake me up for school. Her smile was brilliant like the morning sun and reassuring as always.

BIOGRAPHY OF A SOFT BOARD

A www… Stop it! Give me a break! Umm… sorry, I was just shouting at the kids who torture me by poking me everyday with pins! If I were a human, I would have died the very moment, but no such luck! Yeah, yeah, you guessed right. I am actually a poor old soft board.

My life wasn’t as hard as it is now. I used to be very happy with my family. Once I was enjoying a good laugh with my sister… 

Oh! How I miss her…. She was so lovely…. Well! that laughter stopped abruptly as a bunch of mean guys (hunters) approached and sliced me. The last thing I heard was my sister yelling at them, scornfully. Then gloomy and murky darkness surrounded me…

I don’t know how I survived while passing through the machines which sliced, banged and crashed me as if I was their arched enemy. The second thing I remember is that I was in this vacant school, delivered by a rusty van. I wonder if this school is the same one to which my cousin was also brought to become a blackboard! But I can’t see him anywhere because I am pinned with nails and I can’t even budge! And everyday kids come early in the morning and start poking me. They don’t understand that it hurts… even the big old lady, which leads them! She is so tender and loving with the kids but she doesn’t know I am alive. I am homesick! I want to go back to my mom. I miss her a lot.

I know, I am old enough but I also have feelings…. The pins hurt! These humans say “Kindness is everything,” but they pin this slogan on me! I will die soon.

The last thing I want to say before every piece of foam in me is empty… Care for everyone and everything, even if it’s not a living being.

Oh! Here they come again… ouch!