“Rations did come, but who did they go to? Those who live in flats. Those who live in houses. Those who have some connection, those who make themselves known, they were getting the rations. They were getting 5 kilos or 10 kilos of ration — chal, dal, etc. But how many are there who are living in this small room or that - who have nothing much of an address? They survive from day to day. They work, and they eat. Day by day, they earn something and they eat. They have no ration cards. Those families who in the past might have spent 150 or 200 at the market, they now have nothing. From day to day, they are eating nothing. And then what happens to them? They are dying also. When someone would come to give out food — those people who from there own pockest would come to give – people from all around would come running. For their stomachs, all people will sacrifice their shame. Who knows if people are dying of corona or dying of hunger? When people are dying, their loved ones do not even see the bodies. They are packing up the dead bodies, wrapping them in white plastic sheets, and taking them away. No one knows where they are taking those bodies. Or maybe they are admitted to the hospital? Maybe it is corona? People only hear that they have died. Where they are taking the bodies, or who has taken the body, they don’t know. Whether they burned the body, or just tossed it somewhere, or buried the body – who knows? They are just packing them up and then they are taken away. Who knows how many are dying and why they are dying? You can’t count how many people have been dying all around, the way that you can sit and count money.”

Lahore, November, 1988 Day one ...I arrive in Lahore …my first visit…to attend a seminar on human rights Accompanied by a dear young friend, Smitu Kothari. I meet an old friend – I.K. Rahman, a well-known journalist and a leading figure in the human rights movement in Pakistan (Rahman-Sahb, as he is so endearingly known to all of us in India)…He takes us to a street eating joint ... serving excellent kebabs..

Introduction This year marks the centenary of Syed Waliullah’s (1922-1971) birth. A pioneering writer whose life has been cut short at the age of forty-nine by a brain hemorrhage, he is more often mourned than celebrated. During his brief but productive life, he published three novels, three plays, and two collected volumes of short stories. But given the depth of its influence, this rather diminutive body of work is often ranked among the finest ever produced in Bangla language. Waliullah also wrote fiction and non-fictional essays in English—some of which were published in newspapers and magazines. However, his literary reputation is predominantly established on the foundation of his novels and short stories, most notably on his first and second novels Laal Shalu [Tree without Roots] (1948) and Chander Amaboshya [The Eclipse of the Moon] (1964).

A Shift to Regional History: A shift to regional history has begun from the beginning of the last decade of twentieth century.1 Dalit literature and culture is stated to work in postcolonial India as an emerging new identity to rebuild society and is working as a most creative Marxism.2 It talks of the innovation of Dr B.R. Ambedkar who wanted to see the change in religious, social, political, economic and educational areas. He wanted the socialism in all these fields through ‘State Socialism’.3 This article expands the regional history of four dalit women of eighteenth century Bengal. The first case study shows the political consciousness to revolt against the East India Company rule which happened to commence in Bengal in the middle of the eighteenth century. The second case examines the thirst for education due to birth in an uneducated low caste family of that time. The third case study examines holy love for equality through the exercise of the Bhakti-cult movement of Vaishnavism in anyone’s personal life, while the fourth case examines religious mental oneness with gods and goddesses, particularly in someone’s devotion with Hindu goddess Kali. They all four were born in the lower strata of society. They are mentioned here in chronological order, serially: 1. Rani Siromani4 ( ? -1816) of Jangalmahal of Medinipur district; 2. Sulochana5 (1776-1866) of village Thakurkona of Mymensingh district; 3. Rami Dhopani6 (?-?) of village Saltora near Gangajalghati police station of Bankura district; and 4. Rani Rasmoni7 (1793-1861) of Kona village near Halishahar of 24 Parganas district.

“How many ages hence / Shall this our scene be acted over / In states unborn and accents yet unknown?” (3.1.111-13) Cassius in Julius Caesar This is quite a challenging topic I have willfully chosen to explore. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the architect of the country Bangladesh, adorably called Bangabandhu, was cruelly murdered in his own house along with his wife, three sons, two daughters-in-law, and a younger brother in the early hours of August 15, 1975. It was a small contingent of some junior to middle-ranking disgruntled army officers who masterminded the offensive at the execution level. Along with Bangabandhu’s house at 677 Dhanmondi, Road Number 32, they also separated into groups and attacked two more houses in the same hours to kill Bangabandhu’s close relatives, Abdur Rab Serniabat, who was Bangabandhu’s own sister’s husband and a minister at the time, living on Minto Road, and Sheikh Fazlul Haque Moni, Bangabandhus’s other sister’s son along with his pregnant wife, who was a Dhanmondi resident. In total 20 people were killed in those three houses. This macabre happening was an outcome of a deep-set conspiracy plot led by one of Bangabandhu’s close allies and long-time party leader, Khondaker Mostaq Ahmad, with tacit support from the then Deputy Chief of Staff, Major General Ziaur Rahman.

By 1971 the United States Senate had become a forum for dissent from the foreign policy of Richard Nixon. The contention was primarily grounded in the domestic conflict over the Vietnam war. Still, the Pakistan crisis provided another case that helped illustrate the foreign policy arrangements—and perhaps brighten the political images—of several senators and members of Congress. The Pakistan crisis erupted in late March 1971, and the machinery of the Congress worked quickly to formulate and articulate a position on the matter. Late in the spring, Congress attempted to ban both military and economic aid to Pakistan to construct a legislative barrier to Nixon’s foreign policy, which the White House argued tied the president’s hands. The administration successfully averted those barriers through covert operations, making the Congressional resolution moot. But in the process, a combination of media pressure and Congressional pressure focused intense security upon the means of the Nixon administration and, while losing the particular battle, made severe inroads into making the executive more accountable for the conduct of American foreign policy.