• August 6, 2025

The First Global City: Why Ancient Pataliputra Was a Megacity in Its Day

As we think about ancient cities that determined the course of civilization, names like Rome, Babylon, and Alexandria easily come to mind. But on the Indian subcontinent, where the Ganges and the Son rivers merge, there was a city equal in size, refinement, and cosmopolitanism to these colossi. That was Pataliputra which is now remembered mostly as an archaeological site beneath the city of Patna, but during its time a thriving center of power, philosophy, trade, and town planning.

Pataliputra was the seat of empires as much as the capital. It was the intellectual capital of a civilization that aspired to dream of unity, administration, and cosmopolitanism many centuries before those words entered the vocabulary of politics. From Nanda Dynasty right through to the Maurya and into the Guptas, Pataliputra was the thumping hub of an empire that aspired to dream of not only rule as conquest, but as an art of ordering life. Through its streets moved scholars and spies, ascetics and artisans, ambassadors from distant lands and peasants from nearby villages. In its libraries were born ideas that would span centuries. In its tranquility today, reverberations are still present of a city that was at one time celebrated as the greatest of its time.

The Origins: From a Garrison Town to a Capital of Capitals

Pataliputra did not emerge as a city. It started small as a fortified town named Pataligrama, a tactical enclave formed under the reign of Ajatashatru of Magadha during the 5th century BCE. Its site was not accidental. The Ganges was not a river; it was a lifeline. Fertile land stretched around it, and trade routes connected it to the vast Gangetic plain. Water routes went east to Bengal, and roads went west to the Indian heartland. Pataliputra’s glory was its location. It lay at the intersection of the north-south and east-west trade streams. Merchants brought their goods, and ideas came in tow. The city expanded not by accident, but by plan. In the Nanda period, its walls expanded. Under Chandragupta Maurya, it was the capital of a pan-Indian state. And under Ashoka, it was the seat of authority of an empire extending from the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean.

By the 3rd century BCE, when Greek ambassador Megasthenes visited the city, Pataliputra was already a marvel. His accounts, though fragmentarily retained by later writers, tell of a city designed in striking order and scale. He witnessed its wooden ramparts, its watch-tower, its wide avenue, and its palace resplendent with carved columns and burnished rock. To the eyes of the outsider, this city was not only only large but was also orderly, resourceful, and ambitious.

Urban Design: A City Dreamed and Built

What propelled Pataliputra to “megacity” status in its time was not population or size so much. It was vision. In contrast with most ancient cities that sprawled along topography, Pataliputra was a designed city. It was governed by rules that were later developed in Arthashastra and Manusmriti treatises. The city was planned on a long, rectangular shape and strategically fortified with timber palisades, moats, and watchtowers. Roads were constructed at right angles to each other, dividing quarters of residence, administration and markets. No mere chance geometry this. This was the handiwork of a civilisation already developed to the point of having urban planning, civic organisation, and efficient bureaucracy. Excavations at Kumhrar and Bulandi Bagh produce evidence of pillared halls, drainage channels and advanced wood structures. What has survived time informs us not only fragments but even fragments suggest greatness. Its city plan was also uncluttered. Channels had wastewater flowing through them. There were public baths. The roads were wide enough for pedestrian movement, carts, and processions. The fact that the city was constructed tells us that its designers had in mind not only the convenience of their time, but convenience for generations to come.

The Political Capital of Empire

Pataliputra was not merely a complex of buildings. It was a city of power, the political nerve-centre of subcontinent-defining dynasties. In Chandragupta Maurya’s rule, with his advisor Chanakya (Kautilya) by his side, Pataliputra became the paragon of imperial ambition achieved. Mauryan bureaucracy was vast, hierarchical, and functionally differentiated. From collecting taxes to espionage, from irrigation to recruiting soldiers, everything flowed through this city.

Chanakya’s Arthashastra is not a treatise on statecraft alone—it is a peep into the workings of a city like Pataliputra. Each district was administered by bureaucrats. Each market had watchers. There was pervasive surveillance. Law administration was part of administration. There was control of commerce. Famine was anticipated and avoided by stockpiling grain. Under Ashoka, Pataliputra transformed again, this time from imperial capital to moral center. After the horrors of the Kalinga war, Ashoka’s Buddhism was not the end of it. It became institutionalized. Out flowed from Pataliputra edicts to the remotest boundaries of the empire, carved on rocks and pillars in the remotest climes, enunciating values of non-violence, tolerance, and felicity. Sri Lankan and Chinese embassies arrived at its doors. Ashoka’s patronage of Buddhism turned Pataliputra into a hub of the world’s discourse, diplomacy, and dharma.

The Cosmopolitan Heartbeat

What is usually overlooked in the history of Pataliputra is its cosmopolitan nature. It was a city of several languages, religions, and cultures. Greek ambassadors, Persian clerks, Buddhist monks from Gandhara, Bengal, and Deccan merchants, Gangetic hinterland Brahmins-all who lived there made it a melting pot well before that phrase became popular. Its bazaars peddled not just food and cloth but ideas. Discourse was not suppressed; it was encouraged. Buddhist viharas and Hindu temples stood side by side. Ascetics walked the same streets as trade. The Guptas, who would later rule from the same city, governed what has been described as a golden age of Indian mathematics, science, and literature. And from Pataliputra came thinkers like Aryabhata, men whose works would go on to influence Asian and Islamic knowledge systems. It was, in every respect, a live library. In its discourses, one heard echoes of metaphysics. In its courts, law and poetry came together. This was no static capital. It was intellectually voracious. Infrastructure, Economy, and Innovation

No city of this magnitude flourishes without a robust economic infrastructure.

Agriculture and commerce were Pataliputra’s lifeblood. The plain around the city grew rice, wheat, lentils, and sugarcane. The city edged directly onto Bengal’s sea towns, giving it access of goods into Southeast Asia. Pataliputra artisans specialized in textiles, ivory work, metal work, and ceramics. They were locally consumed, as well as exported. The city also possessed its own mint. Banking and lending were practiced. Weighs and measures were controlled. The production and trade were controlled by guilds. The state, not a distant master, was integrally part of economic life. Reservoirs were constructed. Roads were maintained. Merchants were safeguarded. Directed attention to infrastructure such as this is what permitted Pataliputra to sustain so many, something no ancient city could do without extensive state intervention. Decline and Afterlife

Like every great city, Pataliputra experienced its decline as well.

Emperors came and went, and so did capitals. When provincial powers emerged in Bengal, Central India, and the Deccan, the dynamism was deflected elsewhere. By the early medieval period, the city lost its sheen. The rivers shifted their course. The ancient palaces crumbled. But Pataliputra never completely ceased to be. Its legacy was left in words, its remains whispered beneath the ground, and its ideas endured. Today, under the busy streets of Patna, lie the remnants of a city that once reached higher than most. Its downfall was not defeat. It was the natural course of a civilisation too large to remain still. But over centuries, it had succeeded in doing what only a handful of others had to produce a world where administration, aspiration, diversity, and imagination co-existed together. Conclusion

To call Pataliputra the very first “megacity” of South Asia is not hyperbole.

It achieved that status not merely through numbers or palaces, but through its ability to harmonize ideas, rule an empire, provide space for diversity, and think about governance as a moral, intellectual, and civic endeavor. The brilliance of Pataliputra lay not in its fort, but in what it symbolized. A city where policy was formulated with philosophy, where the bureaucracy was subservient to justice and public weal, where trade was not just of goods, but of thoughts. It was, in the truest sense of the term, a cosmopolitan city before globalisation, rooted in Indian soil, but spreading far beyond the riverbanks. To walk its dreamed-of boulevards now is to remember that prior to airports and megacities, there was a city in which empire, ethics, and urbanity harmonized together.

-Vani Mishra

Ashoka the Great is routinely presented as the template for moral kingship in Indian history. His very name recalls inscribed rock edicts, spiritual enlightenment, and a ruler who renounced the sword for the Dharma. He is revered as a wise and benevolent emperor whose legacy continues to resonate in contemporary India. But what we don’t often speak about and maybe don’t want to confront is the man he was prior to that. Prior to the Buddhism. Prior to the regret. Prior to the tranquillity. Ashoka’s early life is quite another. It is a tale usually relegated to the sidelines, lost beneath the flood of admiration and reverence. It is the tale of a prince who battled with rage, ruled by intimidation, and ascended to power not on the merit of ideals but upon the shoulders of the dead. That section of his life is important. Not because it makes him any less who he was but because it allows us to understand him better. Because it reminds us that greatness is not born unto perfection. It is forged through trial.

The Shadowed Years of a Lesser Prince

Ashoka was born into the Mauryan dynasty as a son of Emperor Bindusara and a grandson of Chandragupta Maurya, the very founder of the empire. Yet in spite of being born royal, Ashoka’s future was not automatically ensured. His older half-brother Susima was the emperor’s favorite and was naturally expected to inherit the throne. Ashoka was dispatched off far away not so much punished as not exactly trusted either. He was made the ruler of the provinces of Ujjain and Takshashila, provinces that were famous for constant unrest and rebellion. These weren’t thrones of gold that needed to be polished they were powder kegs waiting to burst. And Ashoka marched into them armed to the teeth.

Following were years of ruthless, calculating military rule. He suppressed uprisings with such brutality that soon he came to be known as unyielding, even cruel. His troops obeyed him. The people around him feared him. And the title Chandashoka, Ashoka the Cruel began to trail him like a shadow. He was a prince who had learned young that mercy was softness, and that fear was a universal language.

The Struggle for the Throne of Pataliputra

When Bindusara fell ill, the empire prepared itself for a war of succession. The Mauryan capital, Pataliputra, became a court of intrigue. And Ashoka, having sealed himself in years of provinces, came back not only as a claimant but as a strategist. Sources vary on what occurred next. Some claim Ashoka killed his brothers outright. Others claim they were imprisoned or exiled. The facts are murkier. But one thing is certain: Ashoka’s ascent to the throne was not kind, and by no means was it clean. When he was made emperor, there was blood to his name. He had triumphed, but not by love or popular affirmation he had seized the throne the only way he ever knew how. Even as king, the chill of his early reign persisted. People admired his power, but they dreaded his fury. And in his early years of rule, there was little indication of the man that he would become.

Kalinga: The War That Shook His Soul

Kalinga was a rich, independent nation on the eastern seaboard one that had somehow resisted Mauryan overlordship. Ashoka regarded it as loose business, an anomaly in the empire’s jigsaw. So, he attacked. The war that ensued was devastating. Historians estimate the death toll was well more than one hundred thousand. Thousands of others were captured. Cities were reduced to ash. Families were displaced. Kalinga was defeated.

But this time, something was different. As he strode through the battlefield upon his triumph, what he witnessed pierced through the Armor which he had encased himself within. He saw the corpses. The weeping mothers. The children clinging to their dead fathers. The silence of the deceased and the wailing of the living. He did not feel like a conqueror that day. He felt like something else altogether a man who had shattered far more than he could ever mend.

The Long and Quiet Road to Change

Ashoka’s conversion to Buddhism is usually narrated as a spiritual lightning bolt. But true change, as most of us would understand, seldom comes like lightning. It comes like rain steady, slow, and relentless. Ashoka started to think not only about Kalinga, but about all of it including the wars, the treasons, the people killed in his name. And what ensued was not only an apology. It was a quiet, persistent effort to live otherwise. His rock inscriptions, inscribed across the empire, speak in a different voice. Not the voice of a king commanding. It is the voice of a man thinking aloud. A man attempting to lead others down a path that he is still learning to navigate himself.

He abandoned violence and took vows of non-harm. He constructed hospitals. Rest houses. Wells and trees along the routes where travellers passed. He dispatched emissaries all over Asia to propagate the Buddha’s teachings. His reign became a moral crusade.

Can a Man Ever Escape His Past?

Though he espoused peace, Ashoka understood that he could never eliminate what he had done. The Kalinga people would always recall. So would the families of his brothers. The name Chandashoka still lingered at the back of minds, reminding all about who he had been. And perhaps that is what makes his tale authentic. He did not leave his history behind. He took it with him. He did not pretend to be born good. He elected, each day, to strive to become better.

Why This Part of the Story Still Matters?

These requests, selflessness, and self-mastery, all mark him as our hero. Today, we expect our heroes to be perfectionists. But Ashoka was not that. He was flawed. Complicated. Capable of cruelty and redemption. He is a reminder that greatness is not in never falling but in what we do after we have fallen. He made horrific decisions. He inflicted irreparable damage. And yet, he turned toward compassion. Not with trumpets, but with humility. His is not a fairy tale. It is a human one. A suffering, incomplete journey toward becoming the kind of human being he wished to be. And for that reason, his legacy is not less admirable, but more.

Ashoka shows us that even the bloodiest hands may stretch toward peace. And even the most ferocious king may be taught to kneel.

-Vani Mishra

There is something quietly amazing about standing under the sky and allowing yourself to ponder just how far it all stretches. Not only the stars, or the galaxies, but time itself the past that preceded us and the future that will continue long after our own passing. This sort of awe is not new. Thousands of years ago, before the existence of satellites or space probes, the intellectual leaders of ancient India were doing the very same thing. They saw time not only as numbers passing, but as something enormous, inexplicable, and profoundly significant. They did not have telescopes or clocks. What they did have instead was something more difficult to quantify an inner vision, a thoughtful kind of intelligence that stemmed from calm, observation, and maybe even contemplation. When they contemplated time, they did not only think of minutes and hours. They thought in invisible moments and beyond-invention ages. And somehow, in some way that seems impossible, they attempted to make sense out of it.

The Smallest Unit: A Moment That Can’t Be Seen

It may sound odd to begin grand philosophical discussions with something minute, but precisely that is done by ancient Indian scriptures. They begin not with centuries or calendars, but with something known as a Truti, the smallest unit of time. There are some passages which have written that it is the duration it takes for a beam of light to travel through the eye of a needle. Others have calculated it mathematically, where 3 Trutis equal one Vedha, and 3 Vedhas equal one Lava, and then all of these combined equate to a second. Just consider that for a moment. Thousands of years ago, humans were attempting to comprehend the passage of time not in days or hours, but in pieces so minute that they are almost invisible. They did not possess stopwatches or computers. But they did have an extraordinary awareness of the rhythms of life the glow of fire, the beating of a bird’s wings, the coming and going of breath.

Time, for them, did not only proceed in one direction. It proceeded in two. A breath, a blink, could hold worlds. It is difficult not to be in awe of this sort of attention this capacity to be so present, to sense time not as some theoretical construct, but as a living thing.

Yugas: The Story of Us, Told Through Time

If the Truti seizes the transient moment, the Yuga seizes an age. These aren’t merely measures of time they are sketches of how human existence and morality change through enormous cycles. The cycle starts with Satya Yuga, the age of truth, balance, and peace. During this age, human beings are honest, benevolent, and very much attuned to nature and the universe. Dharma, the law of cosmic order is robust and unshakeable. Then there is Treta Yuga, where things start to get a bit off-balance. Goodness is still present, but the balance begins to sway. Dharma is now on three legs, not four. Then comes Dvapara Yuga, when war, perplexity, and uncertainty start taking hold. Dharma teeters, balancing on two legs only. And then, lastly, we come to Kali Yuga, the era we currently live in. This is an era of disarray, fragmentation, and decay, where Dharma is clinging by its fingertips. Traditionally, this era continues for 432,000 years.

Initially, these figures running into the millions may seem daunting. It’s easy to dismiss them as myth. But perhaps the message isn’t the mathematics. Perhaps the message is the sense of time how history is not merely something that occurred in texts, but something that resides within us. These Yugas are less about metronomes and more about the shifting oceans of human heart. They invite us to consider: where are we today? What sort of age are we building? And what is to follow?

Kalpas: A Day in the Life of a God

If Yugas left you with a sense of smallness, Kalpas will leave you with a sense of timelessness. A Kalpa is defined as one day in the life of Brahma, the creator god. And how long is that day? Approximately 4.32 billion years. Then a night of the same duration, when the world sleeps in silence. Then a new day starts and with it, a new creation. That alone is sufficient to strain the imagination. But it gets even better. Brahma lives for 100 of these divine years. That calculates out to the whole life span of the universe, at least in this vision, as more than 311 trillion years. Is it literal? Perhaps not. But that is not the issue. What is important is what it does to your mind. Kalpas make you think slowly. Look outward. Realise that your life as significant and lovely as it is but a heartbeat amidst a cosmos of time. And remarkably, that realization isn’t sad. It is liberating. It tells you that you don’t necessarily have to have all your answers today. That it is fine to not hurry. That the universe has room for you, even with all its enormity.

Why Were They So Obsessed with Time?

You may be asking yourself why did they go so far? Why attempt to comprehend something as elusive as time in so many dimensions? Some of it, certainly, was religious. Time, for the ancient Indian philosophers, wasn’t something to be used. It was a veil. Something to pierce. They thought that time as the world we experience is partly illusion (maya). If you could grasp time, truly grasp it, then perhaps you could transcend it. Perhaps you could achieve some sort of freedom not constrained by days or years.

But it was not mere abstract philosophy. They knew time, and everything was influenced by its rituals, agriculture, astronomy, and everyday life. Time was not merely in the heavens or in the texts. Time was in the seasons, the festivals, the manner of living together. It was a friend, not a disciplinarian. Most of all, time reminded them and reminds us that nothing is permanent. Not pain. Not happiness. Not even the universe. Everything happens in waves. Everything boomerangs. And in that understanding, there is a sort of grace.

A Different Kind of Time

If there is one thing that is remarkable about timekeeping in ancient India, it’s the humility of it all. Modern science tends to treat time as something to be defeated like a deadline to be beaten, or a resource to be handled. But for the ancient Indian sages, time was different. It was not an adversary. It was something to sit with. To observe. To respect.

Perhaps that is what we require more of these days. In a world that keeps trying to get us to do more, be more, go faster and makes us think what would it mean to just stop? To catch our breath? To recall that even the smallest Truti has the whole universe within it? That even a Kalpa starts with the single moment?

So, the next time you are about to go it alone, or lose track of time, slow down. Consider a Yuga slipping by unnoticed. Envision a Kalpa unspooling like a silent breath. Amidst the passing seconds and the whirling galaxies, there is an interval that is yours alone and, in that interval, time does not hurry. It just is.

-Ananya Sinha

Starting with the first civilizations and continuing through the era of satellite photographs, maps have recorded much more than land topography they have mapped the hopes, anxieties, and imaginations of humanity. Even before the development of map-making as a scientific art, individuals mapped the world in terms of myth, legend, and religious belief. These mythical maps were designed as much for spiritual direction and cosmological structure as they were for body location. They positioned sacred cities, divine kingdoms, lost lands, and countries of mythological beings by rivers and mountains. As empirical geography advanced over the years, these imagined places did not become extinct; instead, they transformed, shaping actual explorations, geopolitical stories, and cultural identities.

This essay explores the dynamic relationship between mythical maps and real geography. It investigate how early cartographic traditions balanced imagination with observation, how mythic geographies guided exploration, and in this process shaped modern cultural consciousness. Through examples from Babylonian tablets to fantasy literature, we uncover how mapping has always been a profoundly human act of storytelling founded on both reality and the mythic imagination.

I. Maps as Cultural Texts: More Than Navigation Tools

A map is, by nature, a symbolic construct of space. But in every culture, maps have been also images of belief systems, political agendas, and moral worldviews. Particularly in ancient and medieval cultures, maps have served as cosmological models, organizing the world not just in terms of land and sea but divine order and mythic past.

For instance, the prehistoric Babylonian Imago Mundi (World Image) shows a flat Earth disk with Babylon positioned centrally. Surrounding it is a halo of ocean, and then “regions of darkness,” described in more mythological than geographical terms. This is not documenting land for travel but a worldview that puts the familiar geographic world at the center of cosmic order.

Therefore, maps tend to be visual interpretations of the way societies view themselves—not where they are, but how they exist in the universe and the unknown.

II. Myth Embodied in Ancient Geography

Factual geography and sacred space were often indistinguishable for many ancient societies. Myths were directly embedded in the landscapes and formed geographies that were both real and symbolic.

1. The Greek and Roman Traditions

Greek geographers, such as Hecataeus and Ptolemy, attempted to map the world in greater detail. Still, the Greek maps retained space where mythical nations, like the Hyperboreans, lived or had monstrous creatures like Cyclopes and Scythians. These features helped account for the uncharted—turning the unexplored into the imagined.

Romans, continuing this convention, filled their imperial maps with allusions to divine lineage and legend. Thus, the legend of Rome’s founding by Romulus and Remus—reared by a she-wolf—found pictorial expression both in art and in early Roman cartography, reaffirming stories of divine origin and manifest destiny.

2. India’s Sacred Geography

In India, the geography of the subcontinent was—and continues to be—strongly intertwined with myth and religious cosmology. Pilgrimage trails trace routes followed by gods, rivers like the Ganges are sacred personalities, and mountains like Kailash are thought to be houses of gods. Ancient scriptures like the Puranas speak of a round world divided into concentric continents, each divided by seas of varying substances—milk, ghee, wine, and so forth. This cosmology, though not empirically true, embodied religious, ethical, and cosmological truths.

III. Medieval Maps: Myths, Morality, and Theology

In the Middle Ages, maps were not empirical tools but theological diagrams. Perhaps the most well-known example is the Hereford Mappa Mundi (c. 1300), which combines biblical history, classical mythology, and geographic features into a single circular picture of the world.

This map has Jerusalem at its center, a focus for Christian salvation history. At the top to the east is the Garden of Eden, out of reach but existing, and on the periphery are strange beasts and mythical realms: headless men, unicorns, dragons, and the land of Gog and Magog. These were not conceived as whimsical additions but as moral and theological motifs—reinforcing Christian ethics regarding order, sin, and redemption.

Whereas navigational charts known as portolan maps, that appeared in the 13th and 14th centuries, were more practical, even those contained mythic warning signs, like sea creatures or enigmatic islands, symbolizing caution and the ubiquitous presence of the unknown.

IV. Imagined Lands and the Age of Exploration

When global exploration broadened beyond the 15th century, mythic maps adjusted. Actual geography gradually corrected for conjured-up features, but explorers frequently employed myth as a map to the unknown.

1. Lost Continents and Ideal Kingdoms

Maps of the time were crowded with such places as Atlantis, El Dorado, and the Kingdom of Prester John—locales conjectured upon in terms of classical accounts, rumor, or theological yearning. For instance:

Atlantis, in Plato’s description, was conceived as a sophisticated civilization drowned at sea. Although probably allegorical, it was searched for in the world’s oceans and frequently placed on hypothetical maps.

El Dorado, the city of gold, spurred Spanish explorers into the depths of South America, and maps occasionally indicated its hypothetical location.

Prester John, a legendary Christian king in the East or in Africa, made appearances on European maps for centuries, both political aspiration and religious dreaming.

These fictional lands were rationales for exploration and conquest, combining curiosity and ideology.

2. Terra Incognita and Invented Geography

Empty spaces on maps were frequently marked Terra Incognita—”unknown land”—and filled with imaginary creatures, fictional mountains, or fanciful islands. These acted as mental placeholders, providing cartographers room to dream until actual data came their way.

V. Mapping the Sacred and the Symbolic

Numerous maps did not merely illustrate mythical regions—they also mapped religious or philosophical sacred geographies.

1. Pilgrimage and Sacred Routes

Maps of pilgrimage trails, whether to Santiago de Compostela or India’s Char Dham, repeated the sacred geography as much as geography. Pilgrimage routes organized religious experience and gave visual affirmation of one’s path to moral or spiritual completion.

2. Symbolic Orientations

Maps tended to align themselves not northward, as is the case today, but eastward or heavenward, toward spiritual loci. This demonstrates how direction itself was mythologized, with orientation used for moral or cosmological ends rather than practical navigation.

VI. Colonial Cartography and the Politics of Myth

As European empires developed, maps became instruments of political power and cultural fantasy as much as they were of scientific knowledge. Colonizers often imposed Western myths and meanings on the geographies they came to.

In colonial India, for instance, colonial mapping integrated and sometimes reinterpreted sacred geographies, placing rivers such as the Ganges onto administrative maps while frequently bypassing indigenous cosmologies. In other cases, African landscapes were projected onto maps using European projections, mountain chains and rivers surmised on the basis of classical texts or hypothetical imagination, rather than local knowledge.

Maps thus became integral to a narrative of domination—organizing not merely geography, but ideology.

VII. The Legacy of Myth in Modern Mapping

Modern maps are constructed from satellite imagery, GPS technology, and mathematical precision. And yet, the tradition of mythical geography persists—in culture, politics, literature, and the digital realm.

1. National Narratives and Boundary Myths

Contemporary countries tend to keep maps that mirror mythological histories or ideological dreams. Contested borders can be shown as unmistakably belonging to the motherland. Religious landmarks, historical claims, and symbolic borders are strengthened by mapmaking, demonstrating that maps continue to be influenced by narrative as much as numbers.

2. Fantasy Maps in Literature and Media

Modern fiction also carries on the practice of mythical mapping. Writers such as J.R.R. Tolkien (Middle-earth), C.S. Lewis (Narnia), and George R.R. Martin (Westeros) have designed detailed maps in order to situate their fictional worlds. Maps lend spatial realism to created stories and express profound allegorical and moral frameworks.

In cinema, computer games, and virtual reality, map-making has gone digital—yet remains a narrative schema, establishing order for exploration, identity, and change.

Conclusion

Maps are not just directions—maps are reflections of the human soul. Whatever they were inscribed on, in clay, vellum, or pixels, maps have always been something beyond projections of earth. Maps are accounts of how humans envision their position in the universe, how they give meaning to space, and how they dreamt, feared, and believed.

The history of mythic maps shows us that geography is never exclusively physical. It is filled with memory, imagination, and myth. Maps therefore do not merely map the world as it exists on its own but shape the world as we perceive it, believe it, and work to comprehend it.

Even in a scientifically charted world, the legacy of mythical geography persists. It informs art, stimulates exploration, and constructs cultural identities. Amidst a world in flux, the persistence of myth on maps serves as a reminder that human understanding is always inflected with imagination—and that each border, each continent, and each sea has its own tale to share.

-Ananya Sinha

Nations are more than political land masses bounded by areas between borders, and also the reign of law; nations have deeper, shared memories, shared hopes, and deep cultural consciousness. To this extent, any perception of nations will inevitably start from myth, the very narrative of origin, conflict, and identity that they carry with them. End. Whether they originated in sacred texts, heroic verse, or popular tales passed down the centuries, myths provide countries with a sense of purpose, historical continuity, and moral guidance.

The essay talks about the active presence of myth in nation-building. It examines how it constructs national identity, preserves cultural unity, and justifies political order. From the mapping of examples of ancient civilizations and contemporary nation-states, we understand how myth is the soul and organizing principle for a nation. Finally, the essay concludes that while it is possible to question the historical truth of myths, their symbolic and unifying effect on nation-building is profound and lasting.

Understanding Myth in the National Context

Myth is not fantasy or fiction in classical terms. It is a story which relates to moral, spiritual, or cultural truths about a people. Myths explain the beginning of the people, the why of their existence, and values which they have to maintain. They may include supernatural creatures, epic heroes, holy landscapes, or historical moments, providing an explanation in terms of which societies interpret the past and anticipate the future.

When combined with nation-building, myth is a collective narrative that unites a people in history and destiny. In emerging or changing states, myths fill the gap of history, transcend linguistic or ethnic divisions, and give the nation an extramundane character. The creation and recreation of these myths provide a collective consciousness necessary for political unity.

Myth as a Narrative of Origin

Among the most significant roles of myth in nation-building is the establishment of a sense of beginnings—a sacred myth of nation origin. Origin myths tend to incorporate memory history and imaginary retelling, producing a mythologized version of the past.

1. Rome and the Myth of Romulus and Remus

The Roman Empire, one of the most magnificent civilizations in history, had originated from the myth of Romulus and Remus, twin children brought up by a she-wolf and fated to found the city of Rome. The myth gave Rome its august lineage but also demonstrated pugnacity, divine favor, and warcraft—virtues embraced by the Romans.

2. India and the Epic Tradition

In India, national identity has long been based on epic mythology like the Ramayana and Mahabharata. Religious and moral in nature, they were also mythic templates for political ideals: the just king (Rama), the righteous society, and the just war. They remain models for concepts of duty, justice, and nationhood.

3. The United States and the Founding Fathers

Today even secular republics turn to origin myths. The American Revolution, blessed with tales of the Founding Fathers, the Declaration of Independence, and the Constitution, is customarily described as much a record as of heroic struggle for freedom. George Washington and Abraham Lincoln have been mythologized as embodiments of unity, moral rectitude, and democratic virtue.

Myth as a Tool for Unity and Identity

Homogeneous nations do not exist. Ethnic, linguistic, and regional differentials may exist which can be a cause of strain in national integration. Under such circumstances, myths function as an adhesive of culture, providing common symbols and narratives transcending local identity.

1. The Concept of Bharat Mata

In India, the concept of Bharat Mata (Mother India) emerged in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as a symbolic embodiment of the nation. Depicted as a nurturing mother, she represented not just the geographical territory but the spiritual and cultural unity of a diverse population. The image, while rooted in cultural tradition, functioned as a powerful mythic figure around whom nationalist movements could rally.

2. The French Revolution and Marianne

The allegorical female figure Marianne in revolutionary France represented liberty and reason. She represented the spirit of the Republic and was immortalized in art, sculpture, and public ceremonies, thereby unifying the French under the principles of the Revolution.

3. Japan’s Imperial Myth

Japan’s national identity for centuries rested on the myth that the Emperor was directly descended from the sun goddess Amaterasu, as legally defined in the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki. In spite of the altered role of the Emperor, the myth has been used to justify authority and unify the Japanese people as divine line.

Myth and Moral Instruction in Nation-Building

Myths are not narratives; they possess moral structures that assist in defining civic action and social responsibility. When countries construct institutions and law, myth offers a symbolic lexicon by which citizens perceive right and wrong, justice and injustice, loyalty and treason.

1. The Mahatma as a Mythic Figure

Today’s India has been able to bestow quasi-mythic status upon Mahatma Gandhi. Although his life is very well recorded in the pages of history, the mythic narrative of his asceticism, non-violence, and moral complexity has transubstantiated him from politics into ethical citizenship imagery. His life provides a moral lesson to citizens as well as policymakers.

2. Myth and the Civil Rights Movement

In America as well, Martin Luther King Jr. has been transformed into a mythic figure whose legacy enters the realm of historical biography. His sermons, particularly “I Have a Dream,” abound in mythic rhetoric and biblical rhythms that summarize the struggle for civil rights as a contemporary Exodus—a march from slavery to freedom.

Institutionalization of Myth through Ritual and Memory

To survive, myth needs to be ritualized and institutionalized—shaped into public reality through the means of ceremonies, national holidays, monuments, literature, and education. That guarantees the ongoing virility of myth as a force in the nation’s mind.

1. National Days and Commemorative Rituals

India’s Republic Day, the Independence Day of the United States, and France’s Bastille Day are not only civic holidays but ritualized reaffirmations of the national founding myth. In parades, speeches, and ceremonies, the nation re-enacts its mythic birth and reaffirms devotion to shared ideals.

2. Monuments and Memorials

Statues, monuments, and sites are sacred geography—spaces upon which national myth is etched in stone. The Lincoln Memorial, India Gate, or Arc de Triomphe is not only an architectural achievement but a material expression of national myth and memory.

The Creation and Reinterpretation of Myth

Myths evolve over time. Changing societies bring changing history. Today’s challenges—migration, globalization, the environment—call for reinterpreting national myth in order to remake it and incorporate it.

1. Enlarging the Circle of Heroes

Contemporary nation-states increasingly acknowledge the accomplishments of heretofore excluded groups—women, minorities, and indigenous peoples—and inscribe their narratives into the nation’s mythos. Expansion of narrative renders the myth representative and integrative.

2. From Ethnic to Civic Myths

The majority of countries have shifted from ethnic myths (race, language, or blood) to civic myths (the belief in shared values like democracy, justice, and liberty). This fosters inclusiveness in multicultural societies where identity is not so much about blood but believing in universal ideals.

Challenges and Responsibilities

Whereas myths bring together, they also bring burden and danger. Selective application of myth will exclude some and falsify others. Nation-builders must therefore approach myth discriminately, inclusively, and ethically.

1. Refrain from Mythic Absolutism

No myth should ever be regarded as absolute or unquestionable. An open nation allows for argument, re-interpretation, and pluralism so that national myths are an inspiration and not a repression.

2. Myth and Truth

Though myths are not constrained by factual truth, they must convey emotional and moral truth. A myth losing touch with reality or moral intent threatens to descend into propaganda.

Conclusion

Myths are not of a distant past—they are living myths that continue to mold the soul of nations. Myths provide a common past, a moral code, and a common vision for the future. Nation-building, meanwhile, myth is a vehicle that brings together memory and identity, history and aspiration, ritual and reality.

In an era of accelerated change and accelerating complication, even nations still recur to their myth of origins for guidance and cohesion. Under the management of wise hands and far-reaching reinterpretation, myth can encourage successive generations of citizens to be active participants in not only the stability of their country, but in its development as a fair, compassionate, and long-lived society. And so, the potential of myth in nation-building is neither merely symbolic—it is deeply essential.

-Ananya Sinha

From Mesopotamian floodplains deluges to the ancient Greek and Indian apocalyptic deluge, flood myths have defined our understanding of how mankind came into being and how civilization is so fleeting. These myths exist in cultures all across the globe and usually describe a worldwide flood destroying whole human races, but sparing a few lucky survivors. More than allegories of God’s anger or moral justice, such tales are communal memories of natural disaster, social change, and even the possible demolition of entire civilizations. The author, in this essay, talks about the flood theme in global mythology and whether or not the tales can be based upon actual events and lost civilizations. By a comparative study of the antiquity sources and archaeological evidence, we aspire to see beyond the face of these ancient stories.

Universal Patterns in Flood Myths

Flood myths are remarkably consistent in space and time. While varying detail, they all feature fundamental themes: divine anger, a selected survivor or group, building of an ark or safe boat, final waters retreating, and recreation of civilization. Such consistencies suggest either global psychological archetype or common memory of historic flood events that heavily impacted early civilizations.

1. Mesopotamian Foundations

Arguably the oldest flood story is in Mesopotamia. The Epic of Gilgamesh of about c. 2100 BCE contains the story of Utnapishtim, who is warned by the god Ea of a coming deluge to cleanse the earth of human beings. Utnapishtim constructs a boat in which he rides through the flood and is made immortal. This story is older, but remarkably similar, to the biblical account of Noah.

2. The Biblical Deluge

The Genesis Flood describes how God, angered by human corruption, resolves to flood the world, sparing only Noah, his family, and a male and female of every kind on an ark. The narrative reveals God’s justice, obedience, and covenant. The parallels with Mesopotamian material are either literary borrowing or shared memory of a local disaster.

3. Ancient India: The Matsya Purana

In Hindu mythology, Lord Vishnu’s Matsya Avatar forewarns the sage Manu of a flood that is to come. Manu constructs a boat, which he moors onto Vishnu’s enormous fish body, who navigates him through the floodwaters. Manu is the flood ancestor of mankind. The myth, as usually does, requires salvation by divine providence and righteousness.

4. Chinese Mythology: Yu the Great

Chinese mythology has Yu the Great, a legendary king who tames floodwaters rather than running away from them. He dredged rivers and pushed water into the sea, as recorded in Shujing (Book of Documents), and hence saved China from ruin. This legend speaks of not only divine intervention, but also human ingenuity and determination.

5. Indigenous and Global Traditions

Greek mythology includes flood myths (like Deucalion and Pyrrha), Norse sagas, Mesoamerican mythologies, and Aboriginal Australian and Native American folklore. Maya Popol Vuh narrates a flood that ends an era of imperfect creations. Every world region has remembered world-conquering floods, transmitted over thousands of years.

Archaeological Evidence and Historical Correlations

While myth and archaeology work at different levels of epistemology, there are good reasons to believe that flood myths could carry remnants of historical fact. Various prehistoric geological and climatic occurrences can account for the worldwide ubiquity of flood stories.

1. Post-Ice Age Sea-Level Rise

When the last Ice Age ended, some 12,000 years ago, glacial melting was caused by increasing global temperatures and sea levels rose vastly. Coastal communities, such as on the drowned areas of present-day Southeast Asia, the Mediterranean, and the Indian Ocean, were flooded. Shock from these catastrophes may have been incorporated into cultural memory and myth.

2. The Black Sea Deluge Hypothesis

It was suggested by geologists Walter Pitman and William Ryan that, under this theory, water from the Mediterranean poured into the Black Sea in 5600 BCE, then a lake of freshwater. The violent and sudden flood of saltwater would have drowned vast tracts of agricultural land and displaced the inhabitants. The disaster would likely have given rise to the Mesopotamian flood legends and the region.

3. Submerged Cities and Coastal Settlements

Submarine archaeological excavations have yielded structures and relics along the shores of India (off Dwarka and Gulf of Cambay), Japan (Yonaguni), and the Mediterranean. Assemblages, though not definitive proof of lost civilizations, indicate that ancient civilizations might have inhabited formerly submerged areas, which could be the historicities of mythical floods.

Lost Civilizations: Between Myth and Memory

Flood legends tend to suggest that there were previous, and possibly more advanced, civilizations that were devastated and subsequently erased. Either technologically sophisticated or merely culturally different, their loss in relation to floods has fascinated researchers and popular culture.

1. Atlantis: Plato’s Cautionary Tale

The myth of Atlantis, as outlined by Plato in Timaeus and Critias, has intrigued theorists and historians for millennia. While widely accepted as allegory, the story of a great island civilization whose transgressions offended the gods and led to its destruction at the hands of the sea remains contentious. Symbolic or not, Atlantis represents the nature of hubris followed by divine vengeance—a theme found within flood myths universal.

2. Kumari Kandam and Lemuria

Kumari Kandam is a submerged continent in Tamil mythology that existed in the Indian Ocean. It was home to an extremely advanced Tamil civilization that was flooded by the sea in a massive flood. Though usually interpreted as myth, this tale is part of broader South Asian flood narratives and perhaps a remnant of recollections of ancient coastal flooding episodes.

3. Cultural Echoes and Continuities

Even without definite archaeological proof, mythic tradition on lost worlds usually maintains values, worldviews, and historical experience of ancient cultures. Oral tradition can be a vehicle to retain collective memory in mind from generation to generation, particularly in preliterate societies.

The Psychological and Symbolic Dimensions

Flood myths are symbolic too, though rooted in history. Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell considered them to be archetypal stories—embodiments of the human unconscious that cut across cultures.

1. Cleansing and Renewal

Floods represent destruction as much as purification. They wash away the evil and clear the ground for rebirth. This ambivalence speaks of the process of transformation from within, where the old self has to disintegrate in order for the new self to emerge.

2. Moral Reckoning

In every tradition, the flood is a consequence of human sin—violence, pride, or disobedience to God’s law. The righteous are obeyers of commandments, doers of righteousness, or followers of divine warning. These motifs maintain collective virtues and religious morality.

3. Supremacy of Nature

Flood legends remind us of nature’s supremacy. They show man as powerless in the universe’s grip, instructing us to be humble, harmonious, and resilient.

Conclusion

Flood legends, universal and persistent, are a fascinating window into the history of mankind. Symbolic stories of moral regeneration or true pictures of real-world ecological catastrophes, they are a testament to the richness of collective memory and the durability of early societies. The synthesis of myth, geology, and archaeology ensures that some facts are mythologized but the facts themselves maybe historical. After the echoes beneath the surface, we are not merely unearthing the old tales—we are rejoining a common human endeavor tempered in wonder, terror, and the infinite round dance of loss and resurrection. The triumphs and failures of lost civilizations and the myths that haunt them still drive us, telling us that under every myth there may be an edge of fact to be uncovered.

-Bhoomee Vats

An ancient Hindu temple complex, Preah Vihar Temple, is situated at the top of a 525-meter-high cliff in the Dângrêk Mountains along the border between Cambodia and Thailand. The temple’s history dates back to the 9th century and is linked to the early Khmer Empire. Its construction began as a Hindu sanctuary, largely dedicated to Lord Shiva in his mountain forms, Sikharesvara and Bhradesvara. The oldest surviving architectural elements of the Preah Vihear complex date to the Koh Ker period in the early 10th century.

The construction and spread of the temple greatly enlarged during the times of the Khmer kings, especially Suryavarman I (1002–1050) and Suryavarman II (1113–1150), as per the rapidly changing architectural fashions and religious beliefs. The site did not just stay limited to Hindu devotees but also gained Buddhist importance, and this was due to the existence of a small Buddhist monastery that continues to be active even today. The temple is not just a mark of the intertwining of religions, but also plays an important role both religiously and culturally. It represents a holy mountain and cosmic axis, filled with Khmer cosmology. Its placement on a 500-meter-high cliff served to protect it, specifically keeping it intact even in natural disasters and human conflicts. It is an ancient Hindu-Buddhist complex, and also a UNESCO World Heritage site, perched on a cliff between Cambodia and Thailand.

Architecture and UNESCO World Heritage Site

Preah Vihear Temple is remarkably known for its outstanding Khmer architectural style, which largely differs from common Angkorian temples in its stretched out north-south regions extending approximately 800 meters. The complex is organized on a sequence of terraces that are along the cliff, representing Mount Meru, the legendary Hindu Mountain. The building is not just limited to one sanctuary, which is joined by pavements, stairways, galleries, and courtyards, with intricate sandstone carvings adorning lintels, doorways, and columns. The central sanctuary is placed at the highest southern corner, which can only be reached by extensive stairways with imposing naga (serpent) balustrades. The temple is built mainly of gigantic sandstone blocks, some of which even measure up to several tons, and are carefully fitted with each other to form roofs and gloriously decorated interiors.

Cambodia, after realizing the temple’s architectural marvel and cultural significance, submitted Preah Vihear Temple to UNESCO, which led to its listing as a World Heritage Site on July 7, 2008. The UNESCO listing confirms the temple’s universal value as an outstanding masterpiece, which is the living proof of Khmer architecture, which is in harmony with its natural surroundings, an environment very rugged and rough. The condition of the temple, which is excellent in terms of maintenance, and other than that, its cultural value and the way it depicts the Khmer artistry were all major reasons for it to be chosen as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. But this listing did not just put the temple on the map; it also heightened the border conflict between Cambodia and Thailand.

The Conflict

Preah Vihear Temple has been at the center of a long-running land dispute between Cambodia and Thailand. Both countries claimed their rights over the temple and the surrounding areas of the Dângrêk Mountains. The International Court of Justice (ICJ), in 1962, issued the decision that the temple itself is Cambodian and also directed Thailand to remove military troops from the temple. While this decision acknowledged Cambodian ownership of the temple, it did not resolve the general border conflicts in the region, resulting in occasional tensions and conflicts.

The crisis deepened following the UNESCO designation, as Thailand objected to Cambodia’s submission and saw this recognition of the temple as a mark of Cambodia’s claims over its territorial integrity. Border tensions continued further, which eventually led to diplomatic intervention from the United Nations and ASEAN. In 2013, the ICJ repeated its previous judgement and once more affirmed Cambodia’s sovereignty over the temple and requested Thailand’s withdrawal of military presence. Notwithstanding these judgements, certain border tensions remain, making relations between the two countries and any kind of agreement more challenging.

Current Condition

As of today, Preah Vihear Temple is safely under Cambodian control and can be reached mostly from Cambodia, with Thailand abiding by the ICJ decisions. The temple remains a functional religious temple with Buddhist monks performing rituals in addition to tourists visiting this one-of-a-kind architectural masterpiece. The site continues to be a source of national pride for Cambodia and a witness to Khmer heritage, attracting thousands of foreign tourists every year. Several efforts still ensure peace and protect the temple’s preservation alongside solutions to ongoing border sensitivities in the region.

Preah Vihear is a lasting monument at the intersection of religion, architecture, politics, and diplomacy, and it portrays the intricate legacy of Southeast Asia’s common history and cultural heritage. Over the course of time, Preah Vihear has undergone a series of transformations of function and meaning. These transformations were achieved by changing groups of actors who modelled the significance of the monumental remains according to their own goals. These groups of actors were art-loving European travellers, colonial administrators and politicians on behalf of the changing governments of Cambodia and Thailand, the national elite, and the local population.

Conclusion

The Temple of Preah Vihear, a unique architectural complex of a series of sanctuaries linked by a system of pavements and staircases on an 800-metre-long axis, is an outstanding masterpiece of Khmer architecture, in terms of plan, decoration, and relationship to the spectacular landscape environment. Authenticity, in terms of the way the buildings and their materials express the values of the property, has been established. The attributes of the property comprise the temple complex; the integrity of the property has, to a degree, been compromised by the absence of part of the promontory from the perimeter of the property. The protective measures for the Temple, in terms of legal protection, are adequate; the progress made in defining the parameters of the Management Plan needs to be consolidated into an approved, full Management Plan.

-Bhoomee Vats

The practice of serpent worship in India has been deeply rooted in the culture and beliefs of our country. This tradition not only influenced our thoughts about reptiles but also influenced our religious festivals, religious practices, and our regional folklore as well.  The serpents or Nagas, as we call them, are not just animals, but they symbolize fertility, death, life, and even immortality. These practices heavily impact our cultures, beliefs, traditions, and, to some extent, even our everyday lives, highlighting their significance in shaping our religious practices and beliefs even in a modern and rapidly changing world.

This tradition possibly emerged in India from the early human interaction with snakes, particularly in regions where these creatures were common. The people were not just afraid of the venom but were also fascinated by the abilities, such a shedding skin, which seemed like a renewing process altogether. This act of renewal or regeneration eventually made snakes a symbol of life and death. The practice of serpent worship can be traced back to 2500 BCE in the Indus Valley Civilization, where archaeological evidence showed snake-shaped artifacts, which connect snakes as deities to the people of the country from a very early age. In some communities, snakes are even seen as ancestors or protectors, hence becoming a central figure in the religious and spiritual practices of ancient India.

How Hinduism Sees Nagas

In Hindu culture, Nagas are considered to have the ability to take both human and serpent forms, an ability which makes them semi-divine in their culture and tradition. The serpents can be seen in many of the ancient Hindu texts as protectors of water bodies such as rivers, lakes, and the ocean, and are believed to have control over natural forces concerning water. They are mentioned in several major epics and texts such as the Mahabharata, the Ramayana, and other Puranas. Some of the major mentions in the Puranas include the mention of Shesha Naga, who is also known as Ananta. Shesha Naga serves as the cosmic and eternal bed of Lord Vishnu, who is known as the preserver of the world. Shesha Naga is not just any other serpent; he represents and symbolizes balance and control of the universe by holding in his embrace the Lord and Preserver of the world.

Another such mention of divine serpents includes Vasuki, who played a crucial part in the Samudra Manthan, also known as the churning of the ocean in the Hindu culture. Vasuki played the role of the rope and coiled around Mount Mandara with the Gods and demons using him to churn the ocean in desire of the nectar of immortality or amrita. Vasuki is a symbol of loyalty and strength, as he helped both the Gods and demons in different contexts. This engagement of his with the Gods and demons and the amrita highlights the Nagas’ connection to eternal life. The relevance of Nagas is not limited just to Hinduism, but it also extends into Buddhism and Jainism, where they are also seen as protectors and powerful spiritual beings.

The Practice of Naga Worship Around India

Naga worship developed is not just a passing mention in the cultures and states of India; it influences the tradition of India largely and affects the religious practices in many ways, essentially forming a huge part of the cultural life from Kashmir to Kanyakumari. While the practice took on various regional forms, Nagas were universally regarded as powerful beings capable of both protection and destruction in many of the folklores and even traditions throughout the country. Nagas are seen as guardians of Kashmir, as, according to the Kashmiri legends, they were the original inhabitants of Kashmir and lived in the lakes and rivers which filled that region. It is believed that before the sage Kashyapa drained the famous lake of Satisar, to make it more habitable for humans, many Naga resided there and made the lake their home. Presently, some places are even named after Nagas, and one such example of that is Anantnag, which means “the abode of the infinite Nagas.”

In some states like Kerala, West Bengal, and Odisha, the tradition of serpent worship still continues. Kerala maintains sacred groves known as Sarpa Kavu, which are protected natural areas especially for Nagas. Prayers and rituals are performed there to ensure fertility, health, and land protection. Similarly, in West Bengal and Odisha, the worship of Manasa Devi, the serpent goddess, continues still. The puja, called Manasa Puja, is held during the rainy season, which is the prime time to worship serpents, as devotees offer prayers for their well-being and prosperity.

Conclusion

One of the most important festivals dedicated to serpent worship in India is Naga Panchami, celebrated across different states. It is celebrated during the month of Shravan, which lasts from July to August, and this festival honors the Nagas and seeks their protection from danger, especially snake bites. On Naga Panchami, several images and statues of serpents are worshipped with offerings of milk, flowers, and sweets. In some regions, live snakes are also revered during the festival, and people perform special rituals to appease them and gain their blessings. The festival also symbolizes the gratitude of agricultural communities towards the Nagas, who are believed to control rainfall and soil fertility. It is a time to seek their blessings for a prosperous harvest and protection from natural calamities.

The worship of Nagas in India has a deep and enduring legacy, reflecting the rich cultural and religious traditions of the region. From their origins in the Indus Valley Civilization to their continued veneration in Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain practices, Nagas are often associated with water bodies in Hindu belief, representing life-giving forces essential for agricultural fertility. Nagas have remained central figures representing fertility, life, death, and renewal. Their symbolic power is still evident today in festivals like Naga Panchami and the worship of deities like Manasa Devi, demonstrating how ancient traditions continue to shape modern religious life in India.

Bhoomee Vats

When everyone hears the word “uncontacted,” they imagine people who are backward or uneducated, but in reality, these tribes are just trying to protect their culture and land by stopping the invasion of people from the outside world. In modern times, where even space is being explored, it is hard to imagine that any place is out of our reach, but these tribes and their lands are still disconnected from the entirety of the world. This disconnection makes it difficult for us to figure out how these tribes live, their lifestyle, what they eat, and what they wear. But their living in isolation does not make these tribes lost or confused; they are just living on their terms and conditions.

These tribes are not unaware of the outside world; at many times, they have seen glimpses of it, be it some technology flying over their heads or a stranger trying to invade their land. But contact with the outer world for them is not something they are curious about; it can only bring them danger and threats. Historically, these threats and dangers take the form of disease, violence, destruction of their culture and heritage, and even the loss of their land. Their isolation is not something out of coincidence, but it is a form of survival for them and a way to keep their unique heritage alive. The following are some of these tribes:

  1. Massaco– The Massaco are an uncontacted Indigenous tribe that resides in the Amazon rainforest, specifically within the Massaco Indigenous Territory in Rondônia, Brazil. They are famous for being disconnected from the world by avoiding contact with outsiders and fiercely protecting their territory with strategically placed, camouflaged, and sharp wooden spikes. The Massaco are skilled hunters, using longbows which are nearly three meters long, and are believed to be nomadic, i.e., they move their villages seasonally. The Massaco live within a 421,895-hectare (1.04 million acre) territory in the Amazonian state of Rondônia, near the border with Bolivia. They are one of the 28 known uncontacted tribes in the Amazon and choose to remain isolated from the modern world.
  2. Sentinelese– The Sentinelese is another indigenous tribe residing on North Sentinel Island in the Andaman Islands, which is in India. They are known for being isolated and hostile towards outsiders, making them one of the last uncontacted tribes in the world. The Indian government uses a “hands-off” approach to protect the way of life of this tribe and has also established a buffer zone around the island to prevent unwanted contact. The Sentinelese have had little to no contact with the outside world, which makes them highly vulnerable to diseases that are common everywhere else in the world. Their population is unknown, but estimates range from a few dozen to a few hundred.
  3. Kawahiva- The Kawahiva is an isolated indigenous tribe living in the Brazilian Amazon, specifically near the Rio Pardo in Mato Grosso. They are nomadic hunter-gatherers and are known for their isolation and limited contact with outsiders. The Kawahiva are facing several threats today, which range from logging, ranching, and disease due to attempted invasions into their territory. The Kawahiva live in the area of the “Arc of Deforestation” in the Brazilian Amazon, a region that is experiencing significant deforestation. They are nomadic hunter-gatherers, and hence are moving through the forest by building temporary shelters called “tapiris.”
  4. Matsigenka- The Matsigenka are an indigenous people residing in the rainforests of southeastern Peru, specifically the Urubamba, upper Madre de Dios, and Manu River basins. They are known for maintaining a close relationship with the natural world and their unique cultural traditions, which are deeply connected to their environment. Matsigenka is also the name of the language which they use and which belongs to the Arawakan language family. Their population is estimated to be around 12,000.
  5. Yaifo- The Yaifo people are yet another remote tribe in the East Sepik Province of Papua New Guinea in the highlands.The tribe was described by British writer, broadcaster, and explorer, Benedict Allen, in his account of a 1988 expedition, The Proving Grounds: A Journey through the Interior of New Guinea and Australia (1991). The tribe is visited very rarely and is among the remotest people in Papua New Guinea. They are one of the few tribes of people on earth who do not maintain contact with the outside world.The village of Yaipo in East Sepik Province is listed as speaking a dialect of the Nete language. In his encounter with the tribe for the first time 30 years ago, Benedict Allen wrote that he got to witness “a terrifying show of strength” and an energetic dance in which they displayed their bows and arrows.
  6. Togutil- Also known as O’Hongana Manyawa, and Inner Tobelo, is an indigenous group with a semi-nomadic lifestyle living in the jungles of Totodoku, Tukur-Tukur, Lolobata, Kobekulo, and Buli in the Aketajawe-Lolobata National Park, North Halmahera Regency, North Maluku, Indonesia. Their communities are often known as uncontacted people living in the inner jungle area. Their physical appearances, especially their facial features and skin tone, have a stronger resemblance to the Malay people than to the Tobelo people. Their settlements are usually found to be in groups of communities along river banks. There are about 42 households of Togutil communities that settled along the Dodaga river, while about 500 lived along the Akelamo river.

Conclusion

These six uncontacted tribes are just a few examples of many more that exist. They are not forced to stay isolated from the world; it is their own choice, and this choice shows a strong will and desire to protect their own culture and heritage from being destroyed or disrespected. Some people forget to respect these tribes and decide to invade them, forgetting how harmful this act can be for the tribal people and their lives. These invasions put them at the risk of being exposed to diseases they have not yet come across, which can even cost them their life and whole existence. It is important to protect these tribes and to preserve their cultural practices by leaving them be and not trying to disturb them.

 

-Muskan

Heroes are unforgettable. They are the personalities fighting for and guiding people to the right paths. But not all heroes are silver screen, larger-than-life characters. Some are silent warriors who choose a real purpose beyond fame. They are forgotten heroes. One of the prominent warriors of Indian history, who lived a life beyond fame, was Batukeshwar Dutt. As a freedom fighter for independent India, Dutt’s life is a symbol of true dedication, patriotism, and simplicity.

Early Life:

Indian revolutionary, socialist and independent fighter, Batukeshwar Dutt was born on 18 November, 1910 in Khandaghosh village of Burdwan district, Bengal (present day West Bengal). His father was Gostha Bihari Dutt. The other names by which Batukeshwar Dutt was known were Battu, B.K. Dutta, and Mohan.

Education:

He completed his schooling at Theosophical High School and graduated from Prithvinath College (PPN High School), Kanpur. During his college days in Kanpur, he met Bhagat Singh and soon they became an energetic duo. They started reciting revolutionary literature to each other which had a deep impact on them. Dutt helped Bhagat Singh learn Bengali and read Karl Marx. Bhagat Singh inspired Dutt and he joined the Hindustan Socialist Republican Association (HSRA). During these days, he also learned the process of bomb-making.

Revolutionary roles:

During his struggle for freedom, he came into contact with different revolutionaries with different backgrounds. They read patriotic books and exchanged revolutionary literature. In 1924, a revolutionary party named Hindustan Prajatantrik Sangh was formed by Sacindra Nath Sanyal in Kanpur. Dutt came into contact with other revolutionaries and, started a hand-written magazine, Kranti. Soon he became prominent in the revolutionary group.

After his mother’s death, Dutt went to Calcutta, an important hub of that time for revolutionary activities. The workers’ and peasants’ movements were at their peak. He met Muzaffar Ahmed, a prominent communist movement leader in Calcutta. Dutt had a good hold over Hindi language due to his Kanpur background. He was entrusted with a duty of organising Hindi-speaking workers by Muzaffar Ahmed. Eventually, he became a member of the Bengal Workers and Peasants Party and worked with them for a time.

He also became a member of Naujwan Bharat Sabha, a revolutionary organisation founded by Bhagat Singh in 1926. It was also associated with HSRA and both the associations were known for their Marxist ideologies. He also shared a close association with Chandrashekhar Azad.

Legislative Assembly Bombing:

On 8th April, 1929, to protest against the Trade Disputes Bill, and the Public Safety Bill, which gave more control to the British government over the revolutionaries and freedom fighters, young Bhagat Singh and 19-year-old Batukeshwar Dutt threw two bombs in the Central Legislative Assembly (British Assembly), Delhi. They raised the slogan ‘Inquilab Zindabad’ and showered pamphlets from the visitors’ gallery stating ‘Those who are deaf need loud voices’. These repressive bills were against freedom of speech, civil liberties, and working rights. The bombs were thrown to register the resentment, not to harm anyone. The incident was planned carefully using non-lethal bombs, ensuring zero casualties, only minor injuries to a few people.

The aftermath:

In the aftermath of this bombing incident, they did not try to escape, were arrested the same day, and sent to jail. Even from jail, Dutt along with Bhagat Singh continued to struggle for freedom, human rights, and against British atrocities. With the demands of better living standards for prisoners, dietary standards similar to European prisoners, separate wards for political prisoners, and access to reading material including newspaper, and books, he went on hunger strikes for two times, in May 1933 and July 1937. These historic strikes highlighted him as a freedom fighter to stay on hunger strike for 114 days in total. Later, they were sentenced to lifetime imprisonment. Batukeshwar Dutt was sent to Kala Pani (Andaman Cellular Jail). Eventually, he was shifted to different jails, Hazaribagh jail, Delhi jail, Patna jail, and Lahore jail. Bhagat Singh was also shifted to different jails till given a death penalty in the Lahore Conspiracy case. In his last letter to his mother, Bhagat Singh wrote,”I am leaving, but I am alive in Batukeshwar Dutt.” Though Batukeshwar Dutt was an accused in Lahore conspiracy case, he was not found guilty due to non non-availability of evidence against him. In Assembly bombing case, he remained on lifetime imprisonment.

Health issues:

In 1938, during his imprisonment, Dutt went through severe atrocities by the British police. The continuous torture, insufficient diet, and the environment of jail affected his health and he suffered from tuberculosis. Dr Rajendra Kumar, Mahatma Gandhi, and Mohan Lal Saxena wrote to various authorities including Chief Minister of Bihar Shrikrishna Singh, Bengal Governor and the Executive Viceroy, requesting Dutt’s release on medical grounds. The newspaper Searchlight also demanded Dutt’s release. After all these efforts, Batukeshwar Dutt was finally released on 8 September 1938 from Bihar Jail.

Quit India Movement and post-independence:

Four years later, in 1942, he again highlighted his patriotism when he joined Mahatma Gandhi’s Quit India Movement which led him to another imprisonment of four years. In 1947, after four years of imprisonment, he was released post-independence. After his release, he married his wife Anjali and they gave birth to a daughter named Bharti Bagchi. In Independent India, he did not receive any recognition for his revolutionary works. He retired from active political life and moved to Patna with his family. There he continued writing articles and got involved in business.

Death:

In 1965, the long imprisonment, hunger strikes, and jail tortures led him to serious health issues. He suffered from Bone Cancer and succumbed to it on 29th July, 1965 in AIIMS, Delhi. Bhagat Singh’s mother stayed with him and his family during his last days. To fulfil his last wish, he was cremated at Hussainiwala, near Firozpur in Punjab, where his revolutionary partners, Bhagat Singh, Rajguru, and Sukhdev were cremated.

For his revolutionary fight without any fame, he is known as ‘The forgotten hero’ or ‘The Silent Warrior’ in the Indian freedom struggle.

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