Parts of Call
Moon?
D反,203
The Sun
Beyond blue horizons far at the world's end, strange, fascinating lands beckon us.
Bid us revel in their exotic splendors. Come with us as we head for ports of call.
From the dazzling crest of the Himalayas to the humid shores of the Indian Ocean
stretches a timeless mystic land rich with a pattern of life through forgotten centuries.
India. Its frontier guarded by forbidding peaks wears always the sense of brooding peril.
In the Midland deserts dust clouds dance away from creaking primitive water wheels.
The steaming lowland villages throb incessantly with the rhythm of native drums.
Up and down over the forested roads of India, past glittering princes, peasants, half naked holy men, soldiers.
Elephants and tigers roam the jungles. Temples, mosques, shrines of a hundred gods and half gods,
proud the cities and countryside. Teeming with life, prodigal of jewels and gold, land of fabulous wealth and of famine, India.
Along India's northern border, the protective wall of the Himalayas is broken by the Khyber Pass,
through which have poured the conquerors of her ancient civilization.
Macedonians, Afghans, Mongols came, saw, conquered and disappeared in the dust,
while mother India placidly endured. Then came the soldiers of the crescent.
1536. Under the Mohammed and Babur, the Muslim horde swept through the Khyber and founded the Mughal dynasty.
The golden age of India had begun.
Unequaled since the world began was the magnificence of the barbaric court of Delhi.
A river of rubies, pearls, emeralds and diamonds poured through the hands of the artisans,
fashioning palaces and thrones of the great Mughals.
And as tales of this splendor spread through the world, European nations began to covet India's opulence.
In the year 1601, in the hall of private audience, the great Mughal Akbar has received an English emissary.
Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth of England, has granted a charter to the East India Company,
and with its sole right of trading with all countries, lying beyond the Cape of Good Hope
or straight to Magellan during a period of 15 years.
In the name of Her Majesty, I venture to request your friendly acceptance of these trading merchants
when they send their representatives to Delhi.
You may tell your Queen, on whom be the blessing of our,
that whatever can be done to promote commerce between England and India will be gladly done.
But instantly, feuds sprang up among the English, Dutch and Portuguese traders.
The East India Company hired and trained native soldiers to protect their interests.
1684, Charles II grants the East India Company a revised charter.
The East India Company is hereby granted the right to acquire territory in India,
to coin money, to command fortresses and troops, to form alliances, to make war and peace,
and to exercise civil and criminal jurisdiction over whatever territory they may in time possess.
Out to India then began the procession of adventurers, traders, soldiers of fortune,
under the protection of the East India Company.
Peasants looked up from their fields of rice to find they must pay taxes to the white sides.
Meanwhile, in the desolate hills of Hyderabad,
French and English traders alike had heard of a magic city, Golconda.
Out of the jewels studded earth came diamonds whose very names ring with romance and legend.
The great Moghul diamond weighed 787 carats.
The Orlath diamond, stolen from the eye of an idol in a Hindu temple,
given to Catherine the Great by her lover, Prince Orlath.
The coloner, worn by Moghul emperors, taken as loot by the Persian Nadiushah,
now in the sector of England's king.
The reagent diamond weighed 410 carats.
Moon of the mountains in the Russian crown jewels.
The Florentine diamond among the crown jewels of Austria.
When Ala Uddin conquered the country, he took from the Hindu ruler Ram Chandra 160 pounds of diamonds.
Today, Golconda is empty.
The great fortress still towers over the deserted city.
On the height above, a tiny Hindu temple reminds men silently that only the gods endure.
In ever-increasing splendor, the Moghul emperors reigned.
Akbar moved the capital to Agra, built a great fortress with walls that shone like Topaz.
There, one day in the year 1605, he speaks with his eldest son, Selim.
My son, it has come to my ears that you still desire to marry the wife of an Afghan officer in the court.
His rumour is false. I will have the standards tortured.
It is true, my father.
I have told you I will never permit her husband to divorce her, so you may add her to your Zanana.
You know that since I visited Lahore as a young prince, I have loved Zaria.
I was 15 then, now I am 35.
It is unworthy of a Moghul prince to speak of enduring love for a woman.
When I command the Mahut to guide my elephant into the street that passes her windows,
I am breathless with the knowledge that she may be watching from behind the lattices.
The very air about her dwelling is perfumed with her spirit.
Enough! I am an old man. You will soon be ruler of India.
I command you to put this woman out of your mind.
As well ask me to disregard the shining of the sun or the call of the Moisan to prayer.
May Allah grant you many years of life, my father.
But when the moment comes that I am emperor, I will have Zaria.
Nothing shall keep her from my arms.
Your Majesty.
Have you brought your sister Zaria to the palace as I commanded Asaf Khan?
Yes, sire.
Where is she?
She was taken to the women's quarters to await your Majesty's summons.
You have done well, and you shall be rewarded.
Sire, I...
You have a favor to ask?
No, sire. I...
Do not fear to speak.
I hesitate to remind your Majesty that your father, on whom be the blessing of Allah,
forbade your Majesty to bring my sister to the palace, and if...
My father is dead. May he rest in paradise.
And I am no longer Prince Salim, but Emperor Jahangir.
Yes, Majesty.
Bring in the lady, Zaria.
Yes, Majesty.
I will speak to her alone, Asaf Khan.
But, sire...
Silence. I will speak to her alone.
Leave me with her when she comes.
Yes, sire.
Here is the lady, sire.
Bring her in. See that Asaf Khan has sherbet and cakes.
Serve him in the garden.
Yes, Majesty.
I will summon you presently, Asaf Khan.
As you say, sire.
Beloved, no, do not kneel to me.
It is I who should kneel to you.
I have waited 20 years for this moment.
I kiss your fingers.
Your Majesty, I...
Oh, I will not call you Majesty.
But, Salim, as I did when we were children in Lahore...
Oh, do you think me lacking in modesty?
I think you are everything that is lovely.
For 20 years I have lived in darkness.
And today, even though your eyes are veiled,
they have brought me light.
Salim, say I shall belong to you forever.
Forever? And I shall call you Nur-i-Han,
light of the world.
You shall not only be my wife,
but the share of my throne,
empress of India.
And so Nur-i-Han became the only queen of Islam
ever to rule with her husband.
At their death, Jahangir's son Shah Jahan comes to the throne,
builds for his bride Mumtaz Mahal a palace exquisite as a fabric of a dream.
In the jasmine tower of the palace, a few years later,
he sits beside a window.
His architect stands before him.
My very heart has gone from me
when I returned from the wars to find Mumtaz Mahal dying.
I too longed for death.
You have remembered my words
to make her tomb beautiful as she was beautiful.
Yes, your majesty.
Tell me of your plans.
It will be a square structure of white marble.
The centre of the roof will be an alabaster dome.
At each corner, a minaret.
The great doors will be carved from translucent agate
so the light will fall softly within.
About the doorways, bands of flowers inlaid with jewels.
What of the interior?
The walls are to be a finely carved pure white marble
with a tracery of jewels.
And the dais on which the Mumtaz sarcophagus will be placed
is to be paved with precious stones.
Swear by the 99 names of Allah
that not one flower carved in his tomb shall ever be repeated.
I swear it, sire.
It is well.
The work shall begin at once on the Taj Mahal.
Now the years are moving swiftly.
The Moghul Empire weakens,
but the great East India Company grows ever more powerful.
Every trading post is fortified.
Companies of native troops,
officered by Englishmen, are at its command.
Among these is Robert Clive,
young Company clerk turned soldier.
June 1756, the East India Company's governor in Calcutta
receives the ruler of Lower Bengal, Suraj Adowla.
You say this relative of yours has come to Calcutta?
It is true, Sahib.
Marked for my vengeance, he escaped from my palace
and has claimed protection in your fort.
Give him to me.
I will have him torn to bits and trampled by elephants before my eyes.
I'm afraid I'll have to refuse to surrender him to you.
But he is my cousin and he is marked for my vengeance.
Nevertheless, he's under my protection here
and I can't turn him over to you to be killed.
I demand his release.
And I refuse.
By all the gods, this shall never be forgotten
as one stone of Calcutta remains upon another.
This city is being attacked with a major vengeance.
I serve out to Dawa.
I order all English people in Calcutta
to take refuge on the ships lying at Angkor Harbour.
They will sail down the river until the danger is over.
Take your families and go.
There's going on in the city.
You'd not believe.
Will you come, Captain Clive?
Of course.
We'll make a forced march through the jungle.
Here, sit there and rest.
We'll take you back with us.
Through the steaming jungle in the deadly tropical heat,
Clive leads his army to the relief of Calcutta
and captures the city.
He sets up headquarters at the garrison.
There's a wounded Hindu out here, sir.
He seems to be trying to tell us something.
Where is he?
Here, sir.
They're coming.
You'll never get him to talk.
But here comes Captain Clive.
What is it? What is it?
Let me get down there.
I saw you.
Yes, yes, yes.
Men saw him.
Prisoners.
Prisoners? Where?
Prisoners.
We saw no prisoners.
Jackson.
Yes, sir.
Where are prisoners, Captain, at fort?
Across the court there, sir.
But there's only been a small garrison here.
The guard room's only about 20 feet square.
There can't be many prisoners in it.
Besides, they'd have called out to us when we took the fort.
Come on, let's see.
All right, now.
Be quick, men.
Take down the bars.
Yes, sir.
There's a lock beside, sir.
Yeah, we'd have to break it.
Who's in there?
There can't be anyone in there, sir.
Lay down, sir, young man.
There you are, sir. It's broken.
Pull the door open.
My God.
They must have been wedged right up against the door.
So they fell out when we opened it, sir.
Oh, what devils those Hindus are.
Are the prisoners all dead, sir?
Yes, yes, of course they must be.
We'll bring them here for examination.
Listen.
Listen, there's a woman in there alive.
Let's get them out quickly.
It's like a furnace, sir.
I'll be surprised if any of them are alive.
The room's packed solid with them.
They couldn't even fall over when they died.
Yes, yes, sir.
Easy there.
Give her water.
Here, here, I'll take her.
You men get the rest of them out there.
Here.
Here, drink this.
Oh, so hot.
I can't breathe.
You're going to be all right.
Yes, you can.
There, there, there.
That's better, that's better.
Try and talk now.
The boats that I had gone...
Yes?
We...
Yes, yes, you're all right.
They forced us all into that room last night.
Devils.
Tell me, were you the only woman?
No.
Oh, there... ten of us.
Are they all dead?
We don't know yet.
Three more women alive, sir, and 19 men.
And there were 146 put in that black hole last night.
The black hole of Calcutta.
We'll spell the end of the Suraj Dala.
Coldly, steadily, Clive takes up the trail of Suraj Dala.
One stifling morning in June 1757, in the fort of Calcutta,
Mir Jaffir, a follower of Suraj Dala, calls on Captain Clive.
Well, Mir Jaffir, are you willing to betray him?
Are there many French troops at Plassey?
I do not know how many French soldiers are there.
I don't know.
But Suraj Dala has told me he has 35,000 foot soldiers and 15,000 horsemen.
There are also 50 cannons.
I must have money before I go.
I'll give you part of the money now, part of it when the battle's over.
Will you wait outside while I send for the money?
As you say, I'll be waiting outside.
I'll be waiting outside.
As you say, sir, there will be no trickery.
No, no trickery, no trickery.
Mausel!
Yes, sir.
You're not going to trust him, sir?
Never fear.
I've known Mir Jaffir for a long time.
If it wasn't for his fear of torture, he'd have quit fighting long ago.
But we have only 3,000 men and 2,000 of them are sepoys.
Yes, yes, they are.
Don't forget the element of surprise.
Send the Sergeant Major to me.
Yes, sir.
And after that, the clock. Tell the Marshal to want 10,000 pounds.
Yes, sir.
Stay down behind the mukbang, Jackson.
We'll have no chance if we get out where they can reach us.
Well, it's nearly noon, sir.
And this has been going on since 6 this morning.
We've done for it, in my opinion, sir.
Oh, no, enough. You wait and see.
What's happened, sir? It's too fiery.
They've stopped to eat their dinner. They always do.
Now's our time.
They'll never suspect we'd attack in this awful heat.
What? Now, sir?
Now.
Go to the store places at the gunsmen. Over the bank.
Seize the upper, storm the camp.
The victory of Clive at Plassey makes the East India Company the ruling power of India.
Native states fall into its hands.
Native armies police the towns and trading stations.
As the years go by, native insurrection flares is quelled by stern measures.
Then the British law is passed, prohibiting the burning of widows with their husbands' bodies,
and the killing of girl babies under the old caste ritual.
Hindus are outraged.
In the year 1857, the governor of Calcutta talks with General Hirsi, a native officer.
Now, General, what's the trouble about the cartridges?
As you know, Your Excellency, with our muzzleloading muskets,
the cartridge end must be bitten off, releasing the powder into the barrel.
Yes, well?
The cartridge ends are greased, and yesterday a high caste soldier
was tormented by a low caste sepoi with being defiled
because he had put into his mouth the fat of cows and pigs.
Good Lord.
Do you wonder, I say, I'm sitting on a powder mine, Your Excellency?
No.
But General Hirsi, there's only one thing to be done.
Pass the word among your officers that hereafter only clarified butter will be used
to grease the cartridges, and the men may grease them themselves if they wish.
Will that satisfy them?
I can only tell them.
But if word of this has begun to spread, it will go like wildfire.
Coupled with the new laws, it may cause a holy war that will drench India with blood.
Do then, do what you can.
But the harm was done.
Down with the white sites.
They have defiled us all.
Avenge Hindu honor.
Down with them.
They have defiled us.
Avenge our honor.
Mutiny, mutiny, mutiny, mutiny, mutiny, mutiny, mutiny, mutiny.
Mutiny, mutiny, mutiny.
Across India from Delhi to Calcutta, the native troops rise and revolt.
European men, women and children die in India's holy war.
The red pages of our history are filled with the names of cities where Englishmen, sick,
wounded, starving, hopelessly outnumbered, somehow cling to the beleaguered garrisons.
Delhi, Agra, Kampur, Lucknow, two years of horror and death.
Not until 1859 does the mutiny end.
A few months later, at Delhi, in the midst of a grand du bar, glittering with all the
pomp and splendour that is India's, Lord Canning reads a proclamation.
India is declared a possession of the British crown and Her Majesty Queen Victoria hereby
grants amnesty to all who engaged in the mutiny.
Save only those who murdered British subjects.
God save the Queen.
So begins modern India, where side by side with British dominions are the feudal states,
owing allegiance to the crown, but ruled by native princes who live in the incredible
luxury of the past.
In 1896, a great drought ravages the country.
Hundreds of thousands of peasants starve to death.
Agitators blame British misrule.
In 1914, the Great War sends thousands of natives beyond the seas.
They return to raise afresh the cries against their British masters.
In 1920, Mohamed Karamchand Gandhi speaks to the people in the streets of the cities.
People of Bombay, you have suffered too long under the injustice of British domination.
It is time for India to be free.
To protest to the British rise is to accomplish nothing.
So we must begin a campaign of non-resistance that will force the tyrannous English to set
India free.
Tell us what to do.
All government service must be boycotted.
If any of you hold public office, surrender it.
Withdraw your children from the British schools.
Cease to use articles of British manufacture.
Take up your discarded spinning wheels.
Make Indian cloth for Indian people.
If you do this, one year from today, India will be free.
The unlettered people believe Gandhi to be a saint.
Give him the title of Mahatma, great soul.
And as he postpones the date of India's liberation again and again, his fiery Mohamed and followers
begin to leave him.
In 1922, he is arrested.
You are charged with conspiring to spread disaffection among the people with a view to
overthrowing the government.
How do you plead?
I am guilty.
I accept full responsibility for any acts the people have committed.
You are sentenced to six years in jail.
Released after serving less than two years, Mahatma Gandhi finds his power has waned.
He takes up the cause of the untouchables, lowest of all the countless castes in India.
Affronted by this challenge of their ancient law, Hindus forsake him.
With his power to sway the masses goes his influence.
Only a few faithful followers still believe him to be the savior of India.
Today native princes unite with British statesmen and diplomats, seeking to find a government
for India that will reconcile the age-old antagonisms of race and creed dividing the
crowding masses of her people.
Let us catch our last glimpse of India from the harbor of Calicut, little known city at
the southern tip of the continent, fragrant with the scent of cinnamon, cloves, and ginger.
From here in 1631 went the first shipment of that cotton cloth named for the city, Calicut.
In the throng streets of Hindu turbans and the saffron robes of Buddhist monks mingle
as always with the sketchy garments of pearlfishes whose tatters may conceal a gem worthy of
a Raja's crown.
The whistle blows and we're homeward bound once more from another journey to ports of
Angkor.
We invite you to join us again next week in this time as we journey to another of the
world's fascinating ports of call.