Abro

  The Tradition of Jauhar   The year is 1535 CE. The forces of Bahadur Shah, the Sultan of Gujarat, surround the fort of Chittorgarh. Inside, Rani Karnavati, regent for her minor son, is engaged in final talks with around 8000 Rajput warriors. An eight-month-long siege by the Sultan has cut all essential supplies to the fort. The Rajputs are outnumbered. Defeat is imminent. For Rajput men, death is certain. For women, death is an option. Other options? Be raped or enslaved. They choose death, but death of their own choice. The Rani summons all women inside the fort and announces that the men have decided on saka – the last suicidal march to fight till death. A large pyre is prepared in the zenana compound. Donned in bridal dresses and gold jewelry, and singing hymns to Durga and Shiva, all young and adult women jump on the burning pyre. Watching large flames and black smoke, Rajput men wear saffron clothes and move to fight till the last drop of blood. With all their w...

  Hello and welcome! Today, we are going to explore a story that sits at the complex intersection of history, oppression, gender, and deep political memory in South India. I’m talking about Travancore—a kingdom in present-day Kerala that, just two centuries ago, was one of the hierarchical caste societies in South Asia. But we are not here to talk about just any tax, administrative record, or royal decree. We are here to talk about something popularly and chillingly known as the Mulakkaram . In the Malayalam language, mulakkaram translates literally as the "breast tax". Just let that name sink in for a moment. A tax on a part of the human body, specifically the female body, was used to enforce caste distinctions. It sounds like a terrible, almost unbelievable myth, but it's a profound narrative that has shaped collective memory and resistance. Tonight, we will dive into the debate: What was the mulakkaram ? Was it a fiscal policy, a symbol of oppression, or bot...

  A Question That Will Change Everything “I think, therefore I am,” is the foundational statement of Descartes’ philosophy. The act of doubting proves the existence of the doubter. To think, I must exist first. But I am here to look at the “I” from a biological perspective. What exactly do we refer to when we say “I” or “me”? Are you a single entity? Let me explain. Your body contains approximately 37 trillion human cells. Impressive number, isn't it? But here's where it gets interesting: you're also hosting roughly 38 trillion bacterial cells. That's right—you are outnumbered in your own body! When you say "I" or "myself," who exactly are you talking about? Are you referring only to human cells? Or must you include trillions of bacteria living in your gut, on your skin, in your mouth? This isn't just wordplay. This question strikes at the very heart of who we think we are. And by the end of this article, I promise you'll never think ...

  Hello, everyone. I want to start by challenging one of the most fundamental stories we tell ourselves about human history. What is the traditional story of domestication? The traditional narrative is simple: it’s a story of human mastery. We imagine ourselves as ingenious architects who consciously selected wild species, bent them to our will, and transformed them into compliant crops and docile livestock. In this view, we mastered nature in order to build civilization. But evolutionary biologists and anthropologists increasingly show that this narrative is, frankly, too simple. It overlooks a far more complex, bidirectional relationship. Domestication was not a unilateral conquest. Instead, we should ask a more provocative question: Who domesticated whom? As we will explore today, domestication was a co-evolutionary dance—a process where both humans and our domesticates profoundly shaped each other’s evolutionary paths, often without either side fully understanding the...