Author Stories about the thirties, in our childhood, were not that old. Every elder in the family had a story to tell about one or the other martyr of July 31,  1931, buried just three hundred yards from our house. They remembered stories of the movement against the Maharaja like textbook lessons.  Even an old small earthen pitcher painted green had a story to tell about fundraising for the movement against the monarchy its discriminatory rule. The pitcher often made my mother nostalgic; … Read entire article »