An Electrifying Experience

Edison, Tesla, Westinghouse, ABB, Hitachi, and me…

The other day, I visited some historic sites related to Tesla and Westinghouse, which brought back memories of my time at ABB and Hitachi, both of which had links to Westinghouse over the years. While you might find stories about Tesla, Edison, and Westinghouse in many American books, magazines, and articles, there are hardly any about how these American companies eventually merged with the European ABB and, later, the Japanese Hitachi.

The last two decades of the 19th century saw a convergence of scientists, inventors, and industrialists working to harness electricity for lighting and powering rotating machines. While listing all those involved, fighting over their inventions, and patenting their ideas would take up a lot of space, the most prominent names are Thomas Edison and George Westinghouse. Another key figure connected to both is the highly admired Serbian Nikola Tesla. Interestingly, Edison was never formally educated and started his career as a newspaper boy, eventually becoming a publisher; however, he always made time to read about science. His fascination with telegraphy began in 1862, and by the age of 22, he had obtained his first patent for a vote counter. Eight years later, he had established his own companies.

A series of inventions followed, and when telephony was developed, Edison was working on modifications to microphones and the phonograph. Around 1878, he was introduced to an electric generator, which lit arc lamps, by another inventor named William Wallace. From that point on, power generation and lighting became his primary focus, leading to rivalries, numerous court cases, and what later became known as the 'War of currents.' Edison supported and believed in working with Direct Current, or DC. He worked on improving a filament for the electric bulb that could be mass-produced and last a long time, as well as enhancing the generating and power distribution systems. In 1879, he patented the light bulb, and by 1882, he had electrified parts of New York.

George Westinghouse, just a year older than Edison, too, had limited education and served in the US Navy until 1865. His first patent was for a farm steam engine, and he later invented the 'frog,' a device that helped trains cross tracks. His subsequent major development was the air brake for trains. One of his early supporters was the Vanderbilt family, and Westinghouse eventually established his operations in Pittsburgh. Afterward, he spent several years developing natural gas safety systems and continued to work on train signaling systems. Around 1885, while reading a report on the "International Inventions exhibition" in England, Westinghouse learned about the Gaulard Gibbs transformer and its ability to transfer electric power. Intrigued, he began studying the field eagerly.

Soon, he learned that Gaulard and Gibbs had successfully electrified parts of Turin, Italy, and transmitted power over about 50 miles. He quickly bought an AC generator made by Werner von Siemens and two G&G transformers. He hired an Englishman named Belfield to come to smoky Pittsburgh (all due to the iron industry) to help his engineer Stanley, who was working on lighting projects. In 1886, he founded the Westinghouse Electric Company, bought the G&G transformer patent, and redesigned the transformer as we know it today. Stanley and Belfield rapidly developed the first single-phase AC system, where a 25 HP steam engine generator produced power, raised it to 500V, transmitted it across town, lowered it to 100V, and lit 150 bulbs.

Edison, too, entered the field after purchasing a patent from a Hungarian trio, ZBD (Zipernovsky, Bláthy, and Déri), but AC did not interest him. Seeing that Westinghouse was successfully working with AC, and assuming that Westinghouse was promoting it only to bypass his (Edison's) patents, Edison responded by claiming that AC was dangerous. He also leveraged his connections to the media to suggest that many people could die if they worked with AC. However, his efforts to scare people did not quite have the desired effect.

Although we discussed DC, AC, and arc lights, the concept of an AC motor was still not fully developed in practice. DC motors existed and were used for transit applications. Once again, the first invention came from Turin, Italy, where Ferraris conceived the idea of a two-phase motor in 1885. In 1888, Westinghouse bought the patent from Ferraris for a small sum. It was at this point that a new player entered the scene: Nikola Tesla from Serbia.

Nikola Tesla (b. 1857), after an incomplete education and brief stints in Budapest working as a draftsman and electrician in the Central Telephony Department, and in Paris for Edison's lighting division, decided to move to the United States in 1884 for better opportunities. He joined the Edison Machine Works in New York but left after a few months, reportedly due to a dispute over an unpaid bonus related to the development of an arc lighting system. His attempt to start a company failed, and Tesla was nearly homeless, forced to do menial work. In 1887, Tesla patented his two-phase, self-starting induction motor (as well as a three-phase, 6-wire motor).

Westinghouse, who was searching for such a design, had previously tested prototypes created by the Italian Galileo Ferraris. He now decided to license Tesla's design and hired him at his Pittsburgh plant. Tesla later agreed that his design was similar to Ferrari's, but Tesla's had already been patented in the US. Nevertheless, Westinghouse faced many issues with Tesla's design because it was made for 60Hz. At the same time, Westinghouse systems and the Shallenberger meter were all suitable for a power frequency of 133Hz.

In 1891, Westinghouse engineers, led by Lamme, finally agreed on 60 Hz as their new power frequency, marking a departure from their previous standard of 133 Hz. That same year, AEG engineers in Berlin chose 50 Hz as their new power frequency. One reason was that arc light carbons used at that time did not perform well with 50 Hz. Other frequencies considered were 133, 30, and 60 Hz. The Westinghouse systems were then redesigned for a frequency of 60 Hz, mainly due to pressure from Tesla, who strongly advocated for changing from 133 Hz to 60 Hz.

The topic of frequency selection is complex and best explained in the detailed paper by Edward L. Owen. It discusses how the world had systems operating at various frequencies and how they gradually converged toward two main standards over time. Owen summarizes: There were many standard frequencies in use, even as recently as 20 years ago (1977). The outcome was determined by field operating conditions, not by the exploitation of specific systems to limit competition. Engineers focused on fixing defects rather than competing with each other.

Thus, we see Westinghouse electrifying cities with his 2-phase AC systems, while Edison continued with his DC concept. The competition turned unhealthy when copper prices made DC systems (which used much more copper) uncompetitive.

Although Edison attempted to tarnish Westinghouse's reputation and designs, he was unsuccessful. Meanwhile, Westinghouse faced financial difficulties when the banking industry collapsed in 1890, which halted further work on a Tesla motor. Several years later, Westinghouse purchased the Tesla patent for $216,000 and also signed a patent-sharing agreement with Edison's General Electric. Tesla moved on to work on new projects, including his Tesla Coil, wireless lighting, wireless power, remote control, and other ventures.

Meanwhile, AEG's Dolivo-Dobrovolsky developed a three-phase system in 1888-89, using three wires instead of six. He also perfected the Delta Star three-phase transformer but faced challenges with the three-phase motor, which he finally solved by using the squirrel cage design to reduce eddy currents. At this point, an engineer of English origin named Charles Eugene Lancelot Brown, working in Switzerland, teamed up with Dobrovolsky, Miller, and, with the support of the German government and a cement company, built the very first complete three-phase system, including a 15 KV transmission line 175 km long, which was celebrated in Europe as a remarkable achievement.

Brown and Dobrovolsky ended their cooperation around this point. Brown managed the English-speaking media effectively (Dobrovolsky struggled), then appeared to claim that the system's success was due to his efforts with Tesla's backing (Tesla was not truly involved). Brown mentioned Tesla's name mainly because there was a Tesla craze at the time, driven by the success of the Tesla Coil and the widespread belief that wireless power transmission might soon become common. Across the Atlantic, as seen in 1892, Lamme at Westinghouse in the U.S. agreed on 60Hz and optimized the two-phase motor. From that point on, Westinghouse used Tesla's good reputation to promote his work, especially two-phase systems.

It was indeed Tesla who proposed a design for the first three-phase motor and generator, and who also patented a two-phase and three-phase six-wire motor-generator in 1888. Still, if someone were to ask who demonstrated the 4-wire 3-phase electric generation, transmission, and distribution, as well as the development of a squirrel-cage motor, the answer would be different. It was indeed Mikhail Dolivo-Dobrovolsky. GE, however, favored three-phase motors. There is more to the story, including the involvement of Steinmetz and others, but we will leave it for another day.

On the North American side, the Niagara connection between Canada and the US was initiated on the Canadian side by Henry Pellat in 1903, while the Adams plant on the US side first started generating power in 1895. Westinghouse built the plants. Strangely, they used a 25Hz polyphase (2-phase) system, which was eventually phased out after 60Hz became the standard in North America. 25Hz frequency was chosen as the standard because the turbines for the original Niagara Falls power project were already designed to operate at 250 RPM, which required a 25Hz generator to produce power. This initial decision, influenced by mechanical and industrial needs for motors and DC conversion, established a precedent in the region.

Dobrovolsky died unheralded, while Edison was ousted from the pioneering company when GE was created, following its acquisition by financier JP Morgan. Ultimately, three-phase power became the standard for electrical transmission worldwide, with North America maintaining a frequency of 60Hz, thanks to Tesla. Meanwhile, most of the rest of the world adopted 50Hz, except Japan, which used both frequencies because AEG and Westinghouse installed systems with 50 and 60Hz in the country. I won't delve into the War of Currents between Westinghouse and Edison, Tesla's other major inventions and discoveries, the Nobel Prize dispute, or related topics; instead, I will move on to Europe and continue with Brown.

In 1887, Brown, the technical director of MFO (Maschinenfabrik Oerlikon), decided to start his own business. Following his association with Dolivo-Dobrovolsky, Brown co-founded the company Brown, Boveri & Cie with Walter Boveri in Baden, Switzerland, in 1891. After Brown retired, Boveri served as Chairman of the BBC from 1911 to 1924. He led various electricity companies, and his work on railway electrification earned him a seat on the board of the Swiss Federal Railways. Boveri's sons, Theodor and Walter Junior, later took on various roles at BBC. Walter's brother Robert (1873-1934) headed a subsidiary, BBC Mannheim, in Germany, for several years until his death. Robert's son, William Boveri, also worked at BBC as a director.

BBC achieved significant success in post-war Europe, especially in Italy and many other regions, including the Middle East. Their solid designs in the power, radio, and railway sectors were popular in numerous countries. By the 80s, it was known as the grand old lady of Switzerland, continuing to hire top-tier immigrant engineers but generating little profit.

Now, you have seen brief histories of Westinghouse, General Electric, AEG (partially), and BBC in Switzerland, along with their connections to one man—Nikola Tesla, whose name they all used or referenced. Siemens, English Electric, and many other organizations also made significant contributions to this sector, but their stories are not covered in this article.

Now, let's go to Sweden, where a young Jonas Wenström led the way in developing a power system for his country. In 1883, he co-founded Elektriska Aktiebolaget with Ludvig Fredholm, a well-known businessman, and patented his dynamo in 1884. In 1890, Elektriska merged with Wenström's brother's company to create Allmänna Svenska Elektriska Aktiebolaget, later shortened to ASEA, with Västerås as its headquarters. As early as 1893, the young company was involved in building Sweden's first three-phase electrical transmission line, a 15 km, 9.5 kV line from a hydroelectric plant at Hällsjön to a mine in Grängesberg. Sadly, Jonas died in the same year at just 38.

Interestingly, Wenström also received a patent in 1890 for a three-phase system, just like Dobrovolsky did! In 1897, ASEA built the first electric locomotive. Ernst Danielson improved the designs, and the company grew rapidly, teaming up with De Laval. However, they soon faced financial struggles. The Wallenbergs and the Enskilda bank stepped in, and after some growth, ASEA became a well-known name. Still, it soon engaged in talks with European manufacturing cartels, including the match king, Sweden's Ivar Kreuger, and also connected with U.S. companies GE and Westinghouse. Still, it remained independent and maintained close ties to the Swedish Wallenberg family.

By the mid-20th century, the company had expanded to produce a wide range of electrical equipment, including generators, transformers, HVDC equipment, motors, industrial automation systems, nuclear power plants, trains, robots, presses, and synthetic diamonds. Manufacturing plants in Ludvika and Västerås thrived, and overseas investments and projects began to expand. In 1980, after acquiring Flakt, Percy Barnevik, who was working for Sandvik in the USA, became the CEO of ASEA, sparking a wave of rapid changes and acquisitions. Attempts to acquire AEG and GE's T&D in the U.S. were unsuccessful, but Stromberg from Finland and Elsag Bailey quickly joined the company, and profits rose significantly.

In 1987, Barnevik orchestrated a merger between ASEA and the Swiss company Brown Boveri, its main competitor in many markets. Barnevik needed scale to grow further, and BBC had a broader international presence. A year later, the merger of the two companies took place, followed by a period of some turmoil. The new company, headquartered in Baden, was named ABB – ASEA BROWN BOVERI.

A year later, ABB acquired the company we had initially discussed, Westinghouse Electric's power and transmission and distribution (T&D) operations, which faced financial difficulties and low margins. The next major ABB acquisition was the large Combustion Engineering in Houston, working with notable advisors such as Henry Kissinger and Donald Rumsfeld (who became a company director). The company struggled with issues such as asbestos and a weakening Asian economy, finding it difficult to integrate what it had acquired, possibly more than it could manage. With investments in the US and many other regions not performing as hoped, the company's profits declined, leaving the group vulnerable to strategic shifts.

Hitachi in Japan was established in 1910 by Namihei Odaira, starting as an electrical machinery manufacturer for a mining company. Namihei Odaira, during his free time that year while still working at the Kuhara mine, developed Japan's first 5-horsepower electric motor, together with a colleague. After World War II, it played a vital role in Japan's reconstruction by producing industrial machinery, including trains and power equipment. The company expanded into electronics, launching the first transistor-based computer in 1959. By the 1990s, it had become a global leader in semiconductor and memory device technologies. In 2018, Hitachi and ABB established a joint venture, which was formalized as Hitachi Energy in 2021. This joint venture was fully integrated into Hitachi in 2022.

Thus, developments in North America and Europe converged, created, and eventually led to the breakup of the companies we grew up with. Ongoing developments and demands regularly drive change, with players from diverse regions—such as Japan in Asia—joining European and American industry leaders. Discussions and innovations, sometimes influenced or accelerated by government policies, continue regularly, transforming the electrical landscape. I thought it would be a good idea to reflect on how all this unfolded—how 60Hz became the standard in the US, a brief overview of the DC-AC battles, the development of polyphase power transmission, and so on.

As for me, I began my career with ASEA in India, then worked with ABB after the BBC merger in the Middle East and Europe. I moved to the USA following the Westinghouse acquisition and eventually spent my final years with the organization formed through a merger with Japanese Hitachi. It was a fascinating career that allowed me to travel and experience many cultures across different countries.

Last week, as I stood in front of the historic generating station at Niagara, built by Westinghouse and Tesla, and looked at the old equipment, I couldn't help but marvel at how much has changed and how we still work with AC and also with high-voltage DC transmission—something Edison would have winked at. Not to mention the talks about wireless transmission, which Tesla would have eagerly embraced!

References

The lightning Tamers – Kathy Joseph

The Origins of 60-Hz as a Power Frequency by Edward L. Owen

Electrifying Experience – First Century of the ASEA group - 1883-1983

ABB the Dancing giant – Kevin Barham & Claudia Heimer

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Sambhar - Marathi or South Indian?

 Sambhar – the curry and its origins

The other day, we discussed the origins of Idli, and a few days later, I came across a different version of Rasam, popularized by a well-known wedding caterer, cook, chef, and restaurateur, Nataraja Iyer, which turned out quite good. (However, it should be even better with less jaggery next time.) This indicates that every basic recipe evolves over time, resulting in numerous variations, with each person having their own favorite. The same is true for Sambhar; there are different versions for special occasions, simpler powder-based recipes, and of course, the one we make in Palghat—the aracha or ground Sambhar. When it comes to ready-made powders, there are many options—spicier varieties, milder ones, the Kannada version with a hint of sweetness, and so on.

I dislike it when a North Indian tries to call it Sambhal! Just as our Vada seems to have become Bhara or Bhalla, Dosa has become Dhosa. Similarly, when a Gujarati complains that South Indian restaurants skimp on the Sambhar, serving only a small tumbler instead of a larger bowl. My Gujju friend brings about 10 mini idlis (about 3-4 cm wide) to the office, drops them into a bowl of Sambhar, and slurps them like soup with a spoon. An Iyer seeing this would be aghast, muttering 'enna ithu'—what an abomination! Adding—Eat it like it should be eaten, using a finger, tear off a quarter of a large idli, dip it in Sambhar and chutney, and chomp it, while you raise your eyes to survey the world around, then back to the plate for the next morsel, not with a fork or spoon....

Sadly, they may not realize that Sambhal-sambol (which we loved and ate with everything when we visited Sri Lanka) is actually a Lankan Sinhala coconut-based chutney. It’s very similar to the Kerala red thenga chammandi, and it is often pungently hot, sometimes flavored with lime, onions, fish paste, and more. There are many Sambal varieties, so I don't want to offend a Lankan with this simplified explanation.

But then, when you read that the Sambhar may have a Maharashtrian connection, you might be surprised. True, this has been discussed in mainstream media and many websites, but let me now share my perspective, referencing some food experts and historical sources.

According to a legend, Sambhaji, the eldest son and heir of Chhatrapati Shivaji, was visiting Shahuji, who ruled Tanjore (1682-1712), when he requested his usual dhal curry with rotis. The cook, or as some insist, Shahuji, added tamarind to the amti dal curry instead of kokum (and replaced Tuvar dhal with Mung), as these were the only locally available substitutes, and served the mixture to Sambhaji. This is said to be how the basic version of Sambhar was created. Conversely, Shahuji and Sambhaji, who were actually half-brothers, were on bad terms, so it’s surprising that Shahuji would go to such lengths or get involved in palace kitchen matters for such an event. Some suggest that Shahuji may have named the dish Sambhar after Sambhaji to help rebuild friendly relations between the two families. All of this sounds strange considering the timelines—Shahuji became king of Tanjore in 1684 at age 12, while Sambhaji, busy fighting the Mughals, was later captured and executed in 1689. If Sambhaji did visit Tanjore between 1684 and 1689 (though no records mention it), Shahuji would have been between 12 and 17 years old, an age when it’s unlikely he had any interest or involvement in cooking. Let’s leave it at that, concluding that although it may have Marathi connections, it was probably a Tanjavur invention!

After a series of wars and transitions, Serfoji II Bhonsle (also spelled Sarabhoji II Bhonsle) took control, supported by the British, in 1798. Serfoji II's three-decade reign is best known for his contributions to art, literature, and cuisine. It's no surprise that another legend suggests Serfoji II himself created Sambhar after experimenting with lentil soup and adding tamarind. Interestingly, most of his culinary efforts are documented in the cooking diaries—Sarabendra Pakashastra, a collection of recipes from the royal kitchens at Tanjore, preserved at the Sarasvati Mahal library as two manuals compiled by Serfoji’s scribes in Marathi (using Modi script) in the 1820s. One Bhim Rao from the Sarasvati Mahal library apparently mentioned that Sambhar was originally called Sambhachi ahar—Sambha’s food—and that this name evolved into Sambhar over time. Was Sambha supposedly Sambhaji? It is not clear.

While these are popularly narrated versions, it is quite possible that the name originated from Marathi / Gujarati/Sanskrit usages. The word itself has no connection to any Tamil usages from the past (Tamils had mainly Kuzhambu for such curries), and it is quite possible that the name "saambhaar" came from one of the above languages. It could be a derivative of the Sanskrit root usage sambhara (Malayalam - sambharanam), meaning ‘a collection’.

Geeta Bharatan concurs - The primary meaning of saṃbhāra is a collection or assemblage of items, especially ingredients or materials needed for a specific purpose. Perhaps the curry was ritually offered to the King, and hence a Ritual offering. In a Hindu context, sambhara can denote the collection of materials and offerings required for a sacrifice. The word also refers to the act of putting something together or arranging it. The South Indian dish "Sambhar" likely derives from this Sanskrit word, referring to the various constituents of the stew.

Although the Sambhar name is associated with this curry, it is distinctly Deccan or Tamil in nature, characterized by the use of tamarind and other local spices. That must be how a parippu puli kuzhampu made with Tuvar dhal became the Sambhar of today.

Acharya’s Historical dictionary defines it thus - A fairly thick spicy extract of thuvar dhal soured with tamarind, frequently containing soft vegetables like the brinjal, drumstick, gourd, and lady’s finger. It is served in South India with rice as a middle course, after a course of rice with rasam and before a course of rice with curds. Sambhar is also eaten as an accompaniment to the idli and vada. The Kannada term for the dish is huli and the Telugu, pulusu. The Tamil country has a premixed sambhar & rasam, convenient for travel, and Karnataka has the bisibele-huli-anna, best eaten with ghee. However, I don’t believe that is the correct order in Kerala and Tamil Nadu, as the rasam typically follows the Sambhar course.

Many versions exist, and the vegetables included vary by region. In Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and Karnataka, traditional vegetables are used, while in South Kerala, potatoes, cauliflower, or carrots are sometimes included, especially in the Travancore area. In Karnataka, a bit of jaggery is often added. Kerala and Karnataka grind roasted spices with coconut to create a flavorful mixture, though it's milder due to the coconut. Meanwhile, Tamil and Andhra versions tend to be spicier and tangier. In Malabar and Palghat, brinjal, ladies' fingers, drumsticks, and shallots are key ingredients in their sambhar. Other regions add exotic vegetables like bitter gourd, keerai, radish, kovakkai, and even garlic. Hing, also known as asafoetida, is always an important adder, providing zest and a pungent aroma.

We should also verify if there are any historical references to the curry. It appears that a Telugu poem written by the Vijayanagara king Krishnadeva Raya mentions the word "Sambharampuchintapandu." Srinivas Sistla, who studied this, states that there are references to "Sambhar ingredients packed in separate packs, jaggery, tamarind paste" when describing the food that Periyalvar's wife packs at Srivilliputhur in present-day Tamil Nadu. The Sabdaratnakaramu (1885), a dictionary, and Vedam Venkataraya Sastry's commentary (1927) on the poem also interpret the word in the same way. Based on this evidence, Sistla theorizes that Sambhar was likely part of Tamil cuisine by the 16th century.

K. T. Achaya also notes that the earliest surviving reference to Sambhar, called "huli," dates back to the 17th century in present-day Karnataka. Kanthirava Narasaraja Vijaya, a 1648 work by Kannada scholar Govinda Vaidya, mentions huli (puli), which literally means "sourness," a curry similar to modern Sambhar made with vegetables and tuvar dal. This suggests that the curry was present in Tamil regions, Deccan, and Vijayanagara even before the Mahrattas arrived at Tanjore in the 17th century, although it may not have been called Sambhar then. If ‘huli’ was a version of the early Sambhar, then the humble mulagu varutha puli koottan of Palghat, which was never served to a guest, should be similar—yet I believe it is not. It is a simple mix of tamarind and salt, with boiled vegetables.

There are also mentions that Sangam period cooking included Thuvaram paruppu kalavai (paruppu kulambu) and Mohana Kalavai (with tender coconuts), which could be considered early versions of Sambar. Sambhar contained red chilies introduced by the Portuguese in the 16th century. So, how was it made before the Portuguese arrived? Maybe using black pepper? I am not entirely sure.

In the Andhra regions, where food was also influenced by Nizami cuisine, there's dalcha, which includes meat, kaddu (pumpkin), and chana dal, as well as tamarind and a spice mix similar to Sambhar masala. These Hyderabadi Muslim versions of Sambhar, once popular also in Orissa, are now quite common in Malaysia. The Malaysian version was popularized by Muslim cooks, resulting in a distinct variation.

The Japanese learned a few things about curries from Rash Behari Bose and AM Nair, and today Kari rice is part of their cuisine, though it is not Sambhar rice. It should also be noted that they did not pick up the word Sambhar from the Tamil laborers during the war. Nevertheless, they named the mini truck manufactured by Subaru as Sambhar (nothing to do with the curry, though), so when you use the term in Japan, you may end up seeing a truck!

Another interesting piece of trivia is that Sambhar was added to the menu for Indian space travelers, along with Idli and Chutney! The DFRL, based in Mysore, developed Sambhar Chawal, along with several other Indian dishes, such as Sooji Halwa, Veg Biryani, Katti Rolls, and more, for its 60-item selection for astronauts.

Some Kerala versions

Sambhar arrived in Kerala much later, as the Sadya listing in Cochin’s Shaktan Thampuran period mainly mentions Erisseri, Kalan, Olan, etc., all of which were prepared without red chilli—a spice that arrived with the Portuguese in the 16th century and became a staple in the Tamil versions of Rasam and Sambhar. Interestingly, the use of red chillies never gained popularity in Kerala, despite the Portuguese presence in Cochin, until much later. It is also strange that the British never made any real mention of the dish; although there are references to Sambhar (a lentil and pigeon pea stew), they did not go beyond a broad name, curry, and Madras curry powder, which may have been a type of Sambhar powder with plenty of garam masala.

The coconut-based ‘arachuvitta’ (varutharacha or ground) Sambhar is popular in Nair and Iyer households of Palghat and is now often included in home cooking or ‘athu chamayal. There is a subtle variation in tadka styles, with some using hing and others using methi seeds, along with curry leaves, red chilies, and mustard. Most use coconut oil (or sesame oil in Tamil regions), but during festive occasions, Brahmins typically use ghee. Udupi Sambhar will have a touch of jaggery to mellow down the taste.

Arachuvitta and Varutharacha Sambhar: In these special variations, whole spices and coconut are roasted and ground into a paste before being added to the Sambhar, as a core flavor element. This creates a deeper, richer aroma than simply adding the ground powder. Bengal gram, coriander seeds, tuvar dal, methi seeds, red chilies, and other ingredients are dry-roasted and ground with grated coconut to make the spice paste. This paste is then boiled with tamarind water before adding the appropriate vegetables. Though desiccated coconut was used by overseas Indians, it is rarely used in South India, and fresh coconut is preferred.

A Kerala Sadya begins with a small serving of rice, accompanied by yellow dal and ghee. The taste buds are then awakened by the Sambhar, slightly tempered down by the salty pappadams. This is then followed by some rasam that provides valuable digestive acids, before being cooled down in the next course with a generous helping of yogurt or curds. Finally, you are carried to nirvana by one or two payasams (kheer).

A recent article by Vijish Gopinath calls sambhar the main star in the culinary drama we know as the sadya, but I am not sure it can overshadow all the side dishes, such as aviyal and kootu kari, not to mention the thoran and olan.

The excellent article by Vijish in a recent Vanitha magazine traces the journey of the Sambhar as it evolved from Kasargod to Trivandrum. While the Northern Udupi Brahmin versions have a bit of ghee and jaggery added to mellow the flavor, versions further south show an increased use of coconut and fewer dals. Tomato and Hing are common in most versions, but subtle differences exist depending on the maker's caste. A Nair Sambhar is distinctly different from a brahmin or Thiyya Sambhar, differing in spice ratios and vegetables. By the time the sambhar reaches South Travancore, most consider it a transformed version, not fully accepted by purists (in jest) as true sambhar. As you head south, the quantity and size of vegetables increase, resulting in a spicier and thicker vegetable curry. Muslims, on the other hand, simply call it a vegetarian curry, usually not considered as sophisticated as Malabar’s fish curries. There’s even a fish sambhar version served at the Samudra Feast in the Ambika hotel at Calicut.

In my opinion, the perfect Sambhar is the Palghat Sambhar, and the magazine agrees, stating that the Trichur Sambhar, which is a close second, is somewhat diluted. Palghat incidentally has three varieties: the Tamil version, the Brahmin Agraharam version, and the Nair version.

Tiffin Sambhar is a quick and easy recipe, perfect for idlis and vadas, which eliminates the need for ground ingredients by using powdered spices and dhal to save prep time. Tiffin Sambhar (or Idli Sambhar) is a thinner, milder, and often less tangy version, specifically made for breakfast dishes. In contrast, regular Sambhar is usually thicker, spicier, and contains more vegetables, intended to be eaten with rice.

I believe I have made my point, and the next time someone claims it is a Marathi dish, you can respond with some arguments to the contrary.

References

KT Acharya – Indian Food: A Historical Companion and A Historical Dictionary of Indian Food

Vanitha – Onam Mood, Sambhar Vibe – Vijish Gopinath

Maddy’s ramblings – Idli, a delectable dish

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Neelikatha - Myth or Legend

Panchavankadu Neeli a.k.a Kalliankattu Neeli 

Two days ago, we watched the exciting Malayalam film Lokah – Chapter 1, starring Kalyani Priyadarshan, and it was a fantastic experience. Kalyani brought the character to life vividly on screen as Chandra, an incarnation of the Venad Yakshi - Kalliyankattu Neeli, as a modern-day action heroine fighting evil. If you haven't seen it, you should check out this film; it's best enjoyed on a large theater screen with good sound quality.

Vijayaraghavan, in a minor role, retells the popular Malayali and Tamil legend of Neeli and how she is eventually subdued, in the film adaptation. I remembered the story from my childhood when we first saw the Kalanilayam dramas Raktharakshassu (The Vampire) and Kadamattathu Kathanar. Those epic stage shows featured many interesting special effects and are still remembered by many from my generation and those who came before. However, I don't recall if the Raktharakshassu in the drama was specifically about Neeli.

About 15 years ago, I wrote an article about yakshis, drawing on various sources I had researched. Over the years, I noticed a few references here and there about these two related Yakshi stories. Still, I didn't think much of them until yesterday, when I remembered that Kottarathil Sankunni initially narrated the Kathanar story in his famous collection of tales and legends, Aithihyamala. I revisited it and found that the yakshi connected to the kathanar (priest) isn't Neeli but another called Panayanar Kavile Yakshi. How they got interconnected is still a mystery to me.

And so, here I am, after watching the movie, to retell the story of the two Yakshis for those who are unfamiliar with the original versions, specifically the stories of Panchavankad Neeli and the Panayanar Yakshi. This may be important for new generations, as the version in Lokah is somewhat different. I must emphasize that this does not significantly impact the overall concept of the Lokah screenplay, which is set in the present. This is simply information for those who want to learn more about the old Neeli.

Some might wonder whether these stories are myths, folklore, or legends; others may even ask what these terms mean. A myth is a symbolic, sacred story typically involving gods or supernatural beings and believed to be true in the past. A legend is a traditional story believed to be historical but lacking solid evidence, often associated with a real person or event and typically exaggerated over time. Lore, on the other hand, includes a wide range of myths, legends, and various types of folklore. Therefore, by definition, this story is mythical but has become somewhat of a legend.

The story of Neeli was originally sung orally in the Thekkan Pattu of Venad and was later printed when CV Raman Pillai wrote the novel on Marthanda Varma of Travancore in 1891. The story, which recounts events in Venad (Travancore) between 1727 and 1732, follows Prince Marthanda Varma's struggle against conspirators attempting to seize his throne. The Yakshis, however, date back to a time when the region was known as Nanjil Nadu, a period when Jainism flourished in the southern parts and the yakshi and Chattan cults were common. Densely forested, the area was home to many tribal communities. People mainly traveled on foot from place to place, with only the wealthy using palanquins, horses, and carts on better roads. I don’t intend to get into a detailed study of the cult, but I will retell Neeli's story based on the sources mentioned. It’s also impossible to assign a specific time to these stories; all we know is that they were passed down orally over many years, becoming hugely popular through the Thekkan Pattu (Southern ballads), especially during Marthanda Varma's reign, notably through the Villu Pattu (sung to the beat of a bow and a metal pot).

Neelikatha - From the Villu Pattu

The story begins at Ammappan Kovil in Pazhakainallur, with a famous Devadasi dancer named Sivakami. She had two children, Lakshmi and Thirukanda, with Lakshmi following her mother's footsteps to become a skilled dancer. The temple priest, Velavan Nampy, was smitten with the young girl and soon started spending time with her, lavishing her with wealth—wealth he had earned through both honest and dishonest means. Sivakami, her mother, accumulated all this wealth, and eventually, when it ran out, she expelled Velavan and forbade him from contacting Lakshmi. Velavan wandered into the forest, devastated and almost insane, while Lakshmi, unaware of all this, was grieving at home. Eventually, she learned of her mother's evil plans and, gathering some of the stolen wealth, set out to find her lover. She saw him lost in a thorny cactus forest, overwhelmed with grief. She fell at his feet and begged for his forgiveness, but Velavan, still furious, struck her with a stone and took her jewels, leaving her for dead. With only the cactus forest (Kallian kadu) in Agasteeswaram as a witness, Lakshmi bled to death. Velavan, moving on, reached a well. Thirsty, he did not notice a snake that crept near and bit him. He died shortly afterward. Adding to the tragedy, Thirukanda, who came by and saw his sister dead, also took his own life.

In the next rebirth, Velavan was born into a trader's family in Kaveri Poom Pattinam, named Ananthan. In contrast, Lakshmi and Thirukanda were born as the children of a Chola king, named Neeli and Neelan. In this incarnation, the king also abandons the children, who continue to harbor vengeance against the public, living in a neem tree and causing chaos among the villagers. Eventually, Ananthan encounters Neeli, and as expected, Neeli kills him. The evil spirit, thus satisfied, is contained in an idol at the Panchavankad Issaki Amman temple there.

From Marthanda Varma – the novel

In the Raman Pilla version, Neeli is a Nair girl seduced by a local Pattar, who convinces her to sell her house and join him in Padmanabhapuram. Together, the pregnant girl and the Pattar walk along the forest path.

At Panchavankadu, the exhausted girl sits down to rest on her husband's lap when the wicked man, deciding to abandon her and steal her ornaments and wealth, strikes her head with a stone. Waking up for the last time, she sees her husband holding their blood-stained stone, calls on the Cactus plants to be witnesses, swears revenge in her rebirth, and dies.

The Pattar, who had started a new life, plans a trip to Suchindram for a festival. As they walk along the forest path heading south and enter Panchavankadu, he spots the beautiful, alluring figure of Neeli. She seduces him with her looks and actions, leading him to follow her deeper into the forest. They eventually find a good spot where they settle down, and the roles are reversed, with the Pattar resting his head on the girl's lap. In an instant, the girl's form transforms into a terrifying vampire who then tears him apart and drinks all his blood. The stones remain there alongside the cactus plant, which was once a witness to her murder.

Venad Yakshikal – Ramesan Nair

Ramesan Nair locates the area west of the Collectorate at Ramavarma Puram in Nagercoil. The Nadukattu Ishaki Amman Koil is there. He explains that Pavizhanallor village, now called Pazhavur, used to have a temple. The story then follows a similar pattern – the priest falls for the temple dancer Neeli, who, with her mother's help, seduces the priest at her house and takes control of him. Eventually, the priest is driven out, but his sad, pregnant wife Neeli chases after him into the forest, where the story continues. She rests her head on his lap, and he hits it with a stone in the cactus forest – the Kalliyan Kadu. Later, while drawing water from a well, the ornaments fall in, and a snake bites him, causing his death. The mother looks for her daughter and witnesses the terrible sight, collapsing from grief.

He continues with a story about how Neeli then harassed wayward youth, greedy traders, and even Pathans who briefly waged war with the Travancore Raja. Later, the Yakshi instructed them to build a temple so she could retire in peace, which led to the construction of the Isakkiamman Kovil. Ramesan adds that there are many mentions of a great exorcist's involvement in Neeli's exorcism and her consecration, but he does not mention Kathanar.

Historically, the area was called Kazhuvanthittai because gallows once stood there, and men on death row were allowed to confess in front of Neeli one last time. Afterwards, a prayer was performed, and the man was hanged from the gallows. In front of the temple, a neem tree with a cradle hanging from one of its branches was once visible. Old-timers recall hearing lullabies sung by Neeli for her unborn child, rocking to sleep in that cradle.

That finally brings us to the story of Kadamattathu Kathanar. Although we hear of an exorcist who puts Neeli in her place, the Kathanar is associated with another Yakshi according to Sankunni and Ramesan Nair.

Kadamattathu Kathanar – K Sankunni

Sankunni started collecting the existing lore around the turn of the 20th century and wrote about Kadamattathu Kathanar – Poulose, the deacon from Kadamattam (near Muvattupuzha), between 1909 and 1930. Kadamattathu Kathanar is believed to have lived around 920-930 AD and is considered a renowned sorcerer, exorcist, and conjurer.

Many acts have been linked to him, including the subdual of the Panayanar Yakshi. Sankunni introduces Polulose, a young man who served as a deacon under the priest (believed to be Mar Sapor) and disappeared when the priest, along with the villagers, went in search of a cow taken by a tiger. During this journey, he is kidnapped by a cannibalistic tribe. The tribe's chief takes a liking to Poulose and accepts him into the tribe of naked hill people. Over the course of 12 years, Poulose learns the art of magic and sorcery from these expert tribespeople. Later, he asks the chief for permission to leave and visit his old priest, then departs the tribe to return to Kadamattom. After returning, he uses his knowledge of magic and other powers to help the villagers, gaining personal fame.

The Panayanar Yakshi preyed on travelers using the forest route from Anathapuram (Trivandrum) to Padmanabhapuram. (Note that Kalliyangad Neeli preyed on people between Padmanabhapuram and Kanyakumari). As her attacks increased, people turned to Kathanar for help. The Kathanar entered the forest searching for the maiden, and there she appeared in all her splendor, offering Kathanar betel leaves and asking for some lime – Chunnamb. Kathanar offered it on an iron nail, which she accepted with some trepidation. As soon as she did, she came under the deacon's control, and he promptly drove the nail into her skull, enslaving her. 

On the way back, Kathanar stopped to rest at his uncle's house. His aunt was enamored with the young damsel he was escorting and asked if she could stay with them to help. The deacon agreed and went for a nap. At that moment, the old aunt offered to comb the girl's hair. She noticed a nail in her skull, promptly pulled it out, and, to everyone's surprise, the girl was freed from the Kathanar's spell and regained her previous powers. The Kathanar woke up and followed her. She crossed the river and was hanging around Panayanar Kovil at Parumala when the Kathanar also arrived, breathless. Seeing the Kathanar, she offered to turn over a new leaf, swore to it, and then disappeared (or was consecrated in the idol), never to return or cause harm again. After this, she became popularly known as the Panayanar Kovil or Parumala Yakshi.

Kathanar continued to do other good deeds, but subduing Neeli was not, as I can see, one of them.

Panayanar Kavil Yakshi and the Kattur Namboodiri – Ramesan Nair

Ramesan Nair continues with the second part of the story. Kattur Neelakandhan Namboothiri, after Murajapam at the Padmanabha Swamy temple, was heading to the Shangumugham Bhagavathy temple for more prayers when he met a beautiful young woman. After some small talk, she admitted she was from Panayanar Kovil and had lost her way while on her way to Chottanikkara. She explained that the Kathnar had consecrated her in the idol, and when the priest accidentally spilled some holy water on her, she was freed from the idol. She then boarded a boat heading south and landed in the area, only to fall under the sacred bonds of the gods at Padmanabhapuram, Shangumugham, and Palkulam Bhagavathy. She asked Kattur to help her escape and take her to Kayamkulam, which the Namboothiri agreed to. Using some spells and powers he possessed, he contained her into his sindoor container and eventually freed her from captivity at Kayamkulam.

These are the stories of the two Yakshis: the vengeful Kalliyangaad Neeli and the more reasonable Panayanur Yakshi. From the locations where they were consecrated, two different temples, we can see that they were not the same. From the places they preyed on, we can also conclude that they were different.

Now we need to verify their timelines. We know that the Kathanar lived around 920-930 AD. Based on mentions of the Cholas and the absence of mentions of Travancore kings, we can estimate that Neeli predates the other yakshi, possibly dating back to the 5th-7th century. The Padmanabha Swamy Perumal temple is believed to date from the 7th-8th century. However, I must admit that as the story of Neeli continues till the Pathans' arrival in Travancore, it becomes unclear (perhaps Mukilan, which is set in the 17th century), so examining the timelines does not provide a clear conclusion.

Panayannar Kavu is very old and located near Parumala, surrounded by a tributary of the Pampa River. It is very close to Mannar village, on the Thiruvalla-Mavelikkara Road. Next to the temple, there is a consecration of the Parumala Yakshi, where she sits on a raised platform in an orchard with several trees.

Neeli, on the other hand, is a name that appears in many Tamil works, portraying a woman who becomes a 'pey' – a ghost. According to Jeyamohan, the writer, Neeli was consecrated by Naganandi Adiga, a Jain Monk, and the entire area around Kalliangad was developed after the Pechipara dam was built. The Isakkiamman (a tribal goddess) kovil is located on Muppandhal, south of Valliyur, on the route from Thirunelveli to Nagercoil. However, I am not sure if this is the real Neeli Kovil, because there is a specific Neeli Amman temple at Kalliangad.

Hopefully, those curious about the Neeli story are now familiar with the old versions, and you are prepared when the Chatan release occurs.

References

Kerala Sahitya Charitram – Ulloor S Parameswara Ayyar

Aithihyamala – Kottarathil Sankunni

Marthanda Varma – CV Raman Pillai

The story of Neeli – B Prasad

Venad Yakshikal – K Ramesan Nair

Further reading

The bewitching Yakshi  - Maddy's Ramblings

The Chatans of Malabar - Maddy's Ramblings

Kaliyangad Neeli temple location

The Evil Eye, Maddy's ramblings

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The Discovery of Brazil

Cabral, Pacheco or ?

Recently, I was discussing history with a Brazilian colleague of mine, and I mentioned Cabral's voyage to India, noting how he veered off course and ended up in Brazil, thereby being credited with the discovery of Brazil. My colleague, Ricardo, frowned after listening patiently and said that the issue remained contested, with differing opinions on the matter, and added that it was a topic frequently debated in Portuguese academic circles. Until then, I hadn't really stopped to think about the discovery of Brazil or studied the subject in depth. However, after hearing Ricardo's comment, I started reviewing and gathering information for a study. As expected, I found plenty of material, much of it in Portuguese; however, the English works were sufficient to get me started and understand the basics, which I can now share with you for further reading.

In 1095, Pope Urban II issued the papal bull Terra Nullius (empty land), which declared that all land controlled by Christian empires was legally theirs. This was followed by several papal pronouncements (papal bulls) that collectively became known as the Doctrine of Discovery. Later, in 1493, the Inter caetera was issued, granting Spain and Portugal ownership of all lands west and south of a line drawn from pole to pole, 100 leagues west and south of any of the Azores or Cabo Verde Islands. This bull was modified in 1494 with the signing of the Treaty of Tordesillas, which established that any newly discovered lands outside Europe, along a meridian 370 leagues west of the Cape Verde Islands off the West African coast, would belong to Portugal. Later, a document called the ‘Compact of 1495’ was created, in which Portugal agreed to delay marking the lines until some island or mainland could be discovered in the Portuguese or Spanish sections of the Atlantic. This was due to a disagreement over the exact location of the 370-degree longitude, as there was no method of determining longitude by measurement at that time.

In this context, it is important to note that Christopher Columbus, the Italian explorer, is famously known for his voyages across the Atlantic Ocean in 1492, which led to European contact with the Caribbean islands through his four journeys, marking the announcement of the discovery of the New World. Although the claim that he discovered the mainland during his third voyage was disputed, it was later accepted after the 1513-15 trials. Spain had thus already made numerous discoveries, and following the treaty, amicability existed between Spain and Portugal, so there was no real need for secrecy. However, considering that private finance was involved, some level of competition always existed between them.

We all know the basics - Brazil was officially "discovered" in 1500 when a fleet led by the 32-year-old Portuguese noble Pedro Alvares Cabral, en route to Calicut, ended up at Porto Seguro, between Salvador and Rio de Janeiro. His appointment as the leader of the second fleet, despite limited navigational and sailing experience, was seen as a political move by the King. However, the reader should remember that he was accompanied by more experienced navigators such as Bartolomeu Dias, Diogo Dias, and Nicolau Coelho.

As we know, the fleet departed from Lisbon on March 9, 1500, passed the Canary Islands five days later, and arrived at Cape Verde on the 22nd. The equator was crossed on April 9, and for some unclear reasons (some scribes mentioned a fierce storm), it turned westward, following the Volta do mar technique perfected by Portuguese navigators. Instead of sailing directly against the wind and current, ships first sailed west, away from the coast, to reach the westerlies (winds blowing from west to east); then, they turned east and were carried back toward their destination. On the 22nd, the ships arrived at Monte Pascoal, on the northeastern coast of present-day Brazil. After this initial contact, they studied the Indigenous people, exchanged gifts, restocked the ships' supplies, and built a large cross, while the fleet's supply ship hurried back to Lisbon to announce the discovery of the new land. According to Cabral's calculations, the land was east of the demarcation line established in the Treaty of Tordesillas. The territory was within Portugal's designated area, and a large cross was placed to mark the event and reinforce Portugal's claim to the new land.

After confirming that this land was indeed along a long coast and not an island, Cabral and his fleet sailed to India around May 2nd or 3rd. Twenty days later, they encountered a fierce storm, and Bartolomeu Dias's ships were lost. The battered remnants of the fleet rounded the Cape of Good Hope and eventually stopped near Soffola, then proceeded to Malindi by August for repairs and refurbishment. The fleet arrived in Calicut on September 13. The rest of Cabral's story was recounted in earlier articles, i.e., his meeting with the Zamorin, the issues with the Arabs, the violence, and the bombardment of Calicut that ensued.

Cabral sailed to Cochin in December 1500, a place that had become friendly with the Portuguese after Vasco da Gama's first visit in 1498. After securing a shipload of valuable spices, the fleet next moved to Cannanore and then started its long voyage back to Lisbon in January 1501. The ships once again got separated and arrived back in Lisbon separately, six months later. Although only five ships had been fully loaded, two sailed empty, and six ships were lost, the cargoes on the five were quickly sold, resulting in a healthy profit for the Portuguese Crown.

King Manuel quickly organized the next voyage with Cabral to command what was known as the Revenge fleet, aiming to deal heavy damage to the Zamorin of Calicut, who had rejected Portuguese demands for a pepper monopoly. Strangely, six months after preparations started, Cabral was removed from command, and Vasco da Gama was appointed as the fleet's admiral. Cabral fell out of favor with the king and went into virtual exile, never regaining the monarch's favor. Perhaps his sins at Malabar caught up with him, as he fell ill and eventually retreated into a mostly secluded private life, dying unrecognized in 1520. Cabral, a person who should have benefited greatly from the incredible discovery of Brazil, received little acclaim and then vanished from history for nearly 300 years.

After its discovery, the official Portuguese name for the land was the "Land of the Holy Cross" (Terra da Santa Cruz). However, it was popularly known as Brazil, named after the Portuguese word for the red brazilwood, a tree that once grew abundantly along the Brazilian coast. In Portuguese, brazilwood is called pau-brasil, with the word Brasil commonly believed to derive from the phrase "red like an ember," formed from brasa (meaning 'ember') and the suffix -il (from -iculum or -ilium).  Terra da Santa Cruz was thus replaced by Terra do Brasil. The Portuguese expanded their holdings in Brazil, and by 1750, this wealthy territory was considered Portugal's most important part of its far-reaching maritime empire.

It took a long time for Cabral to re-enter historical discussions. When Brazilian historian Francisco Adolfo de Varnhagen (later Viscount of Porto Seguro) found Cabral's long-forgotten tomb in Santarém in 1839, historians and politicians were shocked by the explorer's misfortune, which caused a public outcry. While Cabral’s discovery was widely accepted until then, a controversy emerged toward the end of the 19th century when Emperor Pedro II of Brazil posed a question during a meeting in 1854: whether the discovery was actually ‘accidental’, as everyone had been led to believe, or if it was ‘intentional’. By ‘intentional’, the assumption was, of course, that Portugal knew about a large landmass to the West.

Why would Portugal continue to promote the 'accidental' theory? Telma Alancar argues that Brazil had about seven million indigenous people in 1500, and it was not an empty land ready for colonization. Therefore, framing Brazil's colonization by Cabral and others as ‘accidental’ allowed the Portuguese to avoid ethical and moral questions about the domination of its land and people. However, those who believe it was ‘intentional’ point to the "Esmeraldo de Situ Orbis" by Duarte Pacheco, which implies that Cabral's visit was planned. The contents of this work were kept secret from the public for nearly four centuries by order of King Manuel I, and parts of it, including maps and notes, have since been lost. Pacheco claimed in his Esmeraldo de situ Orbis that the King of Portugal sent him to discover land to the west in 1498, two years before Cabral's landfall. Let’s now take a look at this explorer.

Duarte Pacheco Pereira was a Portuguese sea captain, soldier, explorer, and cartographer. He traveled extensively in the central Atlantic Ocean, west of the Cape Verde Islands, along the coast of West Africa, and was later sent to India. In 1503, he set out for India as captain of the Espírito Santo, one of the three ships in the armada led by Afonso de Albuquerque. In 1504, he was put in charge of defending Cochin, a Portuguese protectorate in India, against a series of attacks between March and July of that year by the Zamorin of Calicut. Using his skills, considerable luck, and deep knowledge of the tidal patterns in the Cochin backwaters, he managed to defend Cochin heroically for five months, despite having a much smaller army compared to the large army and navy of the Zamorin of Calicut. Duarte Pacheco was celebrated by the Raja of Cochin for this effort and honored by King Manuel I of Portugal with public festivities upon his return to Lisbon in 1505.

But what connection could he have to the discovery of Brazil? Between 1505 and 1508, Duarte Pacheco Pereira wrote a book, Esmeraldo de Situ Orbis. It was never finished, but was published only in 1892 (with the English translation in 1936). There was much debate about the meaning of the term Esmeraldo, and one theory suggests that Pacheco's name is related to the Malayalam word for green, implying that he was being compared to a unique green emerald stone. The book mainly covers cosmography and navigation, with three parts completed and a fourth left unfinished.

In the Esmeraldo de situ orbis, written from 1505 to 1508, it is stated that in the third year of the reign of D. Manuel (therefore in 1498), the King ordered him to "discover the western part, beyond the greatness of the Ocean Sea, where a very large landmass is found and navigated, with many large islands adjacent to it", which extends from the equator to 70º N. and from the same equator to 28º S.; and in this last part "much fine Brazil" was found.

Studying the case, Capistrano de Abreu concluded that the first text refers to a trip to the Northern Hemisphere, and it is likely that Duarte Pacheco went with one of the Corte Real brothers to Canada and Newfoundland. As for the continentality of America and the existence of brazilwood south of the equatorial line, he claims this was already known at the time the Esmeraldo was written.

In his book, Pacheco proceeds to argue that the recent discoveries of the Portuguese in the western Atlantic, which he regards as having initiated, provide fresh evidence of his contention. The immediate interest of the passage for us lies in the fact that Pacheco believed this "large continent" to be continuous from north of the Arctic Circle to south of the Tropic of Capricorn. Morrison, who discusses this aspect in great detail, agrees with Capistrano, stating that it was simply a widely accepted hypothesis at the time and that no solid proof actually existed. It was just a concept articulated by Pacheco.

The ‘intentional’ side argues that Portugal knew, but suppressed the information under 'the conspiracy of silence' when censorship was severe, maps and travel accounts were suppressed, to maintain Portugal's ocean superiority and to keep interlopers away from Africa and Asia. Navigation charts were sometimes only loaned to navigators by the India House, and at the end of a voyage, they had to be returned to that institution. The Esmeraldo was possibly banned from circulation, censored, and sections were subsequently suppressed for national policy reasons. Approximately 18 maps of the world and numerous unique sketches were lost, along with the originals, in the Lisbon earthquake/fire of 1755, and only two copies still exist.

Although the western swing in the Cabral voyage seemed justified, as it is now confirmed to be a good navigational technique recommended by da Gama, no reason for it was given in any of the contemporary accounts of the voyage or by any reliable historians of the period, except for João de Barros, who states that the fleet went westward to avoid the Guinea calms. Many subsequent voyages to India followed this route, some to land on the coast of Brazil for wood, water, and supplies, and others because, although this course was longer, it offered better sailing conditions and ultimately allowed faster reach of the destination. Morrisson, on the other hand, believes that Cabral followed Gama's advice and took the suggested route to India, which has since proven to be the fastest then and now.

Morrison writing in 1965 argues that Pacheco must have either been an observer on the third voyage of Columbus, as Greenlee supposes, or that Pacheco indeed explored lands in the Portuguese-allocated area but failed to find any. However, he believes that Pacheco later provided enough information in his own maps, which were used to prepare the Cantino Planisphere. The idea that Pacheco had discovered Brazil before Cabral has since been rejected; it is now believed that Pacheco traveled to North America instead.

Charles Nowell, writing in 1936, concentrates on the missing sailing orders. He states - Unfortunately, the royal instructions to Cabral are only partially available, and the surviving fragment remains silent about the first and, for us, most crucial part of the voyage. Because of this, we must speculate about the nature of the orders. The fact that only a part of Cabral's instructions still exists might be significant. Manoel's fragile relations with Spain and his fear of offending that country could have led to the immediate destruction of the initial part of the orders; if they concerned any part of the New World, it would not have been safe to make them public.

There is a question whether Vasco da Gama heard about islands or landmasses to the West from Arab sailors he encountered during his voyage to India. Was that the reason he gave specific directions to Cabral to head west? Gama's secretary records – 'This is the way which it seemed to Vasco da Gama that Pedro Alvarez Cabral should go on his journey, it pleasing the king.' If he turned west to gather wood, food, and water, then he certainly knew there was land there.

Another clue appears in Mestre João's letter to the King after Cabral's discovery. Concerning the location of this land, Senhor, if your Highness will send for a map belonging to Pero Vaz Bisagudo, your Highness will be able to see there the location of this land; but the map does not state whether this country is inhabited or not; it is an old map and your Highness will find that Mina is shown on it. Mestre João, a scholar, believed and trusted the ‘old’ Bisagudo map, which suggested a pre-Columbian voyage to Brazil by the Portuguese. The Bisagudo (Cunha) map which featured the Castle of São Jorge da Mina in addition to the island of Vera Cruz, has never been found!

Portuguese historian Duarte Leite objects to the claim by Pacheco, thus - "if Pacheco did discover areas east of the Line of Demarcation and did bring back news of his to [King] Manuel [of Portugal], the reason which induced Don Manuel to keep secret. . . such an important discovery escapes me. As soon as Cabral returned in 1501, Manuel announced the discovery of Brazil to Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. Why would he not, in 1499, after the return of Vasco da Gama, make a similar announcement if Pacheco had already discovered Brazil? No objection could come on the part of Spain, given the division made by the Treaty of Tordesillas, as indeed none came in 1501 when Cabral's discovery was announced. I am persuaded that Pacheco neither discovered Brazil in 1498 nor was present two years later at its discovery by Cabral.

A comment in American professor Charles Nowell’s paper suggests an answer to the question - In October, 1497, a marriage of state occurred between King Manoel and Princess Isabel, daughter of the rulers of Spain. This, coupled with the death of Prince Juan, the brother of Isabel, made Manoel, through his wife, heir to the thrones of Castile, Aragon, and Leon. In 1498, the pair made a journey through Spain, being acclaimed as future King and queen. These circumstances, in the very year of Pacheco's exploration, explain its secrecy, for Manoel was naturally reticent about giving offense to Spain, of which he hoped soon to be King. Yet even this did not prevent him from looking to Portugal's interests. The line of Tordesillas had not been adequately located, and there was a growing Spanish interest in the southern Atlantic, as evidenced by the voyage of Columbus in that same year. Obviously, the time had come to act upon the late King João's knowledge of a land to the southwest. Hence, the voyage of Duarte Pacheco and the secrecy which attended it.

De Souza, analyzing the Venetian cartographer Andrea Bianco, focuses on the mention of "Ixola Otinticha" in Andrea Bianco's map and identifies it as the island of Santiago in the Cape Verde Archipelago, thus asserting that it was indeed known to some navigators well before Cabral's discovery.

Now that we have a better understanding of the two main contenders, let's examine the other claimants, if only for completeness.

Spanish explorers, other than Columbus

The possible landings of the expeditions by Spanish fleets under de Ojeda with Amerigo Vespucci (1499), Guerra, and Yáñez Pinzón (1500), and Diego de Lepe mention lands south of Columbus's discoveries. Pinzón is the strongest contender and did provide proof of having passed the shores, and was, as such, recognized by Spanish historians.

There is some evidence that two Spaniards, Vicente Yáñez Pinzón and Diego de Lepe, traveled along the northern coast of Brazil between January and March 1500. Pinzón sailed from what is now Cabo de Santo Agostinho (in the Brazilian state of Pernambuco) to the mouth of the Amazon River. There, he encountered another Spanish expedition led by Lepe, which reached as far as the Oyapock River in March. The reason Cabral is credited with discovering Brazil, rather than the Spanish explorers, is that the visits by Pinzón and Lepe were brief and had no lasting impact.

Portuguese historians, such as Leite, when studying these voyages, believe that all these claims are questionable. They argue that these explorers possibly saw the mouth of the Orinoco, not the Amazon, and stayed near the Caribbean, not further south. Leite also believed that some maps associated with these voyages might have been altered after 1500.

St Brendan

Then comes the story of St. Brendan, the Irish navigator who discovered Ui Brasil, part of what they called Greater Ireland. St. Brendan (Brendan the Navigator) is credited in the Irish annals with the earliest discoveries on the New World shores, which he called "Greater Ireland." With the Irish Culdees, he is said to have visited Iceland, Vinland (New England), and traveled southward to Florida and Darien, then to Brazil. In a 1375 map, Brazil Island appears with a shape and position similar to South America. Historians do not give much weight to this claim and dismiss it as a Celtic myth.

There are many more leads, such as the evidence offered by Estevao Frois, who suggests Portuguese presence at Pernambuco in 1492, João Coelho (a partner of Corte-Real) sometime in the 1490s, and João Ramalho from Beira, a Portuguese settler at Sao Vincente in Brazil since 1490, who was perhaps a degredado or shipwreck survivor.

The arguments will continue, and debates will rage. However, despite a certain amount of mystery remaining due to the paucity of resources, even after a century of investigation, Cabral continues to be the top contender for being 'The man who discovered Brazil'.

References

Portuguese voyages to America in the fifteenth century - Morison, Samuel Eliot
The Discovery of Brazil-Accidental or Intentional? Charles E. Nowell
Esmeraldo de Situ Orbis - Duarte Pacheco Pereira. Tr. G. T. Kimble
The Voyage of Pedro Álvares Cabral to Brazil and India – WB Greenlee
Silencing the Doctrine of Discovery in Brazil: Accidental "Discoveries", Secret Manuscripts, Imaginary Lines and Myths - Telma Alencar
A Supposed Discovery of Brazil before 1448: Thomas Oscar Marcondes de Souza

Those who desire to study the Bianco map may peruse this paper: 1448 Andrea Bianco Portolan Chart – Cartographic Evidence of the Pre-Columbian Newport Tower - Patrick Shekleton

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The Japanese Monsoon missions, and the I-29

And its involvement in Indian affairs

During the early 40’s, as the world was engulfed in a great war, pitting the Allies against the Axis, the battles drifted Eastwards, and the skirmishes in the air and over the seas intensified. Frigates churned the waters and bombers roared overhead in many war theaters, while submarines prowled the depths waiting to pounce on enemy warships and merchantmen plying the waters above. German U-boats, Italian Sottomarini, and Japanese Sensuikan competed with British and American submarines in outmaneuvering each other, while radar-equipped B-24s scanned the waters, to swoop down like eagles and bomb them as they surfaced. Through this melee, two Axis submarines, one from Japan and another from Germany, moved in opposite directions, and at each other, intent on a secret mission somewhat connected to the liberation of India.

In the previous article, we followed the fortunes of the American cargo ship Paul Luckenbach, read about its sinking off the coast of Madagascar, and checked the fate of its survivors, who ultimately ended up in Calicut. The latter story of the submarine I-29, which fired its torpedoes at the Luckenbach, is equally interesting due to its subsequent connections to India. Let’s spend a few minutes checking it out.

Recapping, we saw that those Japanese submarines and their support frigate groups had moved out of the Pacific Ocean and relocated to attack Allied merchant ships plying the Indian Ocean, preventing supplies from reaching Allied front lines, circumventing blockades, and augmenting German Axis efforts. Many of the submarines involved in these shipping attacks moved out from European bases to Penang after the Japanese took Singapore, Malaya, the Andaman Islands, and later, Burma.

U-boat Base - Penang

As we read previously, U-boats became the most significant peril to maritime shipping since the War started in 1939. Wolfpacks roamed freely underwater and sank many a ship destined for the West. While the subs roamed the seas, the Allies were perfecting their submarine search-and-destroy techniques from the air. By February 1942, Singapore had become part of the Japanese-controlled territories in Southeast Asia. As the Japanese joined up with the Germans to form the Axis powers, the Kriegsmarine, i.e., the Third Reich’s navy, decided to create an Eastern base in Penang. Strangely, it remained somewhat of a secret, and few locals were aware of this establishment. It was also a base for Japanese submarines during the remainder of the war. The Japanese 8th Flotilla, commanded by Admiral Uzuki, which participated in the Yanagi transport missions, used Penang as its staging base, while Singapore remained the repair base.

The base was established at George Town, at a former British seaplane station in Penang. Japan was 3500 nautical miles away, and Singapore was 415 nautical miles from the base. It was certainly strategic, located on the Swettenham Pier, and covered the northern end of the strategic Malacca Strait, through which shipping destined to the West had to pass. Not a full-fledged base, it was at best a repair depot and a home base for the crew.

From the German side, the U-511 was the first to arrive at Penang, which was then sent to Kobe, allowing the Japanese to model new submarines around it for the future. Wilhelm Dommes, the captain of U-178, arrived to set up the U-boat base in August 1943. From there, he would oversee the U-boat operations at Penang, Singapore, Surabaya, and Kobe.  Thus, this became the home for the Monsunboote or the Monsoon boat program. Initially, 11 German U-boats were deployed, but during transit, 4 were destroyed, two were converted into supply boats, out of which one sank, and five got through to Penang. As these U-boats arrived towards the end of the monsoon season, they were called the Gruppe Monsun or the Monsoon group. Three Italian submarines were also stationed there, but they were primarily used for transport. Over time, U Boat combat missions were reduced and converted to Yanagi transport missions.

Another reason for the move out East was that the war in the Atlantic, where the U-boats had wreaked havoc, was now tilting in favor of the Allies. Although the concept was sound, the problem was that Penang was far away, and secondly, supply boats were scarce.  It was certainly not a great arrangement; the Japanese and the Germans (who considered themselves vastly superior) quarreled incessantly, and therefore, the sharing of authority between them proved to be quite difficult.  Also, around this time, Allied SIGINT had cracked the German Enigma codes and were finding it easier to track the movements of these U-boats.

Yanagi missions

The Axis powers needed supplies badly to continue on with the War, and these had to arrive from diverse sources. Germany needed rubber, tin, tungsten, copper, and bismuth, as well as medicines such as quinine, while the Japanese needed steel, mercury, and optical glass. It also became clear that Japan and Germany should exchange military technology, including military hardware, prototypes of new weapons, and research data. The only corridor for exchanging the above information was underwater, using submarines, simply because air transport was no longer viable.

The naval and air power of the Allies made overseas blockade-running shipments difficult. German Admiral Karl Dönitz conceived the idea of utilizing refitted submarines for this purpose. The Japanese Navy agreed to build twenty large cargo submarines for the Yanagi missions (the significance of the U511 transfer via Penang). This was how the Yanagi Sakusen started, namely a series of submarine voyages undertaken by the two navies to exchange technology, skills, and materials with Nazi Germany.

The Japanese Submarine I-29

The 8th Submarine Squadron, part of the Japanese 6^th Fleet, was thus relocated from the Marshall Islands to Penang in 1942 and remained there until late 1944. These Japanese subs were involved in offensive raids and sank many ships, participated in Yanagi missions, and were also involved in transferring IIL spies and saboteurs to Indian shores (see articles on the Swaraj School).

Many submarines (I- followed by two digits such as I-10, 16, 20, 21, 22, 24, 27, 28, and through to 30) participated in the missions, and perhaps the most famous was the B1 class I-29, named Matsu, launched in 1940. Commissioned on 27 February 1942, into the 14th submarine squadron and commanded by Izu Juichi, it was involved in many daring raids, the famous reconnaissance of the Sydney harbor before it was attacked, sinking of quite a few ships, including the Paul Luckenbach on Sept 22, 1942, plus a few others along the way. The I-29 returned to Penang after a successful run on 5th Oct 1942 and went on to have a remarkable wartime record for a Japanese submarine, sinking even more merchant ships. It also did multiple successful Yanagi missions to Germany (Juichi Izu was part of many more exploits before losing his life in another submarine that was sunk by the Allies).

In April 1943, it was tasked with a Yanagi mission by Masao Teraoka, the commander of the submarine flotilla. She left Penang with a cargo that included two tons of gold for the Japanese embassy in Berlin and was additionally tasked with a secret mission, to bring back a couple of mechanics from Berlin.

Berlin - Germany

Bose arrived in Nazi Germany in 1941, where the leadership offered little support and mostly sympathy for India’s independence. German funds were nevertheless provided to open a Free India Centre in Berlin. A 3,000-strong Free India Legion was recruited from among Indian POWs captured by Erwin Rommel’s Afrika Korps to serve under Bose. As we saw in the Jai Hind article, Bose had Abid Hassan and NG Swami assist with recruiting of key personnel from this group to team up with the Germans in an attack on the Afghan border, a project which was eventually shelved. Bose was then asked to travel to Japan and discuss arrangements to collaborate with the Japanese and plan resistance from Southeast Asia.

Continuing discussions with German authorities, Bose also met (May 29, 1942) with Adolf Hitler to cement his proposals. He desired to move as soon as possible to SE Asia and direct the free India operations from as close to the Indian border as possible. Hitler agreed to find a way of sending Bose to Asia, and suggested traveling in either a German or a Japanese submarine. Things were not going well for the Germans in the war, and Bose’s plans did not receive any urgency from that point on, so he attempted to persuade the Italians to assist him in flying to Burma. On a personal level, Emilie was pregnant with Bose’s child and nearing the delivery date. The flight plans were delayed for various reasons, while Emilie delivered Anita in Vienna.  Eventually, Bose’s submarine voyage to Japan was finalized in January 1943. Though intending to take along Swami, Hassan, and Vyas, Bose had to contend with just Hasan, as space was limited in the submarine. Bose and Hasan thus started preparing for an arduous submarine trip to Japan.

The submarine they boarded was the U-180 with its forward torpedo tubes removed to create space for cargo. Overland, meanwhile, the war was starting to turn. After their rapid advance into Russia, the seemingly invincible German army was defeated by the harsh Soviet winter and a determined, resolute Red Army in Stalingrad in February 1943. Mahatma Gandhi was undertaking a hunger fast in India, and the Quit India Movement had been crushed.

U 180

On 9th February 1943, the submarine sailed from Kiel, headed towards the Indian Ocean. On the eve of their departure, cargo destined for Japan was loaded onto the submarine, and eventually, the supercargo arrived – two Asian-looking gentlemen. The crew was not told who the two strangers boarding the U-Boat were, only that they were machinists. One of the sailors recognized Bose and mentioned that it was the Indian Adolf, who had been with Hitler, as he had seen the press report and the photographs. But the U-boat’s commander, Musenberg, assured them that the two men were two specialist engineers going to help in a submarine bunker construction in Norway.

Abid Hasan recounts the voyage in his interviews and notes, he remembers that everything smelled of diesel, omnipresent within the hull. Bose was given a bunk along the passage, and the spartan meals served were chunks of beef and dank bread. Hasan managed to find some rice and lentils, which, much to Hasan’s dismay, Bose shared with other sailors. He then helped Bose make revisions to his work “Indian Struggle”, drafts of many speeches, as well as the plans to create a women's regiment. The long voyage was dangerous and adventurous, and had a close shave when the U-180 had to make a hasty dive to escape a British frigate speeding up to ram them. After a two-month voyage, the U-boat circumvented the Cape of Good Hope in April 1943 and lay in wait for the Japanese submarine headed their way.

Meanwhile, the I-29 had departed Penang, carrying a small reconnaissance aircraft, 17 torpedoes, a 14 cm gun, and a crew of 94. The crew had been having a torrid time, for the subs had no air conditioning, and with a range of some 16,000 miles, they had been at sea for a long time. Eventually, the I-29 rendezvoused with the U-180 near Madagascar.

Even though the waters were rough, the transfer was completed on April 26, and rafts were used to ferry cargo back and forth, as well as the two Indians. Two Japanese naval officers sent to study U-boat construction and 2 tons of gold were transferred to U-180. The I-29 took a path far away from the British sea patrols and changed their destination to Sabang, in Sumatra. On May 29^th, the I-29 docked at Sabang, and Subhas Bose, accompanied by Abid Hasan, stepped ashore after a 90-day voyage under the seas. Following a few days' rest, accompanied by Admiral Yamamoto, Bose flew to Tokyo. Both submarines returned safely to their bases.

“It took us three full months.” Abid Hasan said, “To travel from Berlin to Sumatra, every minute of which was full of dangers. We were taken in two submarines, one arranged by the Germans and the other by the Japanese. The long time taken for the journey was due to the fact that we had to remain submerged throughout the day and could only travel at night, as all along we were going through dangerous zones”. When we boarded, we found that the U-boat had space enough for only one bed. It was a small room where the entire crew, the doctors, and we all sat together. We sat up all 24 hours, and we sat there motionless. There was no elbow room at all. We felt cramped; it was like solitary confinement. Even in jail, the living conditions would be better.

Penang Submarine Base

The U-boat base at Georgetown ceased to exist as a functional base after October 1944, when all U-boats transferred to either Djakarta or Surabaya due to intense Allied submarine activity off Penang, accompanied by aerial bombing and mining, since it was within range of both Kharagpur-based B-24 Liberators and B-29 bombers. A raid by mine-laying Liberators in October 1944 blocked the harbor entrance. The last submarine to leave was the German U-843 in December 1944. After the transfer of the two Indians to Japan, the I-29 continued on and dropped many Indian revolutionaries, saboteurs, and radiomen on Indian shores, on other voyages, as we discussed previously.

The I-29 left for Europe in November. Arriving off the Spanish coast in March 1944, the submarine and her escort of four German torpedo boats and eight German Junkers aircraft came under attack by the RAF and US Liberators. The Allied code breakers had been tracking the I-29 and located it off the Spanish coast.

The I-29, then commanded by Kinashi, survived the attack and arrived at Boudreaux in occupied France, where Kinashi received an Iron Cross from Hitler. The I-29 departed Lorient in April 1944 with a significant amount of German technology, including a Walter rocket engine and plans for the jet-powered Me 262, as well as a rocket-powered Me 163. It is also mentioned (HistoryNet - Hackett) that it carried a quantity of Uranium Oxide (it is not clear whether it was for a bomb or other Japanese research) though it seems unlikely. Loaded with vital military plans and hardware, and 20 Enigma machines, the I-29 departed Lorient on April 16. It arrived in Singapore on July 13^th. The blueprints and paper cargo were flown to Tokyo.

Desperately tracking the U-boat and with some knowledge of what the submarine was carrying, the Allied code breakers waited for the I-29 to break radio silence. On July 20^th, Kinashi transmitted their plans to Tokyo, which were intercepted by a US Navy radio unit. Orders were passed to Commander Wilkins, who was sailing the USS Tilefish in tandem with subs Rock and Sawfish.

On July 25^th, the I-29 surfaced, and that was when Commander Alan B. Banister’s Sawfish sighted the sub. Banister fired four torpedoes at I-29. Three of them hit, and the Japanese submarine exploded and sank almost immediately. Three Japanese sailors blown off the sub, swam to a Philippine island and reported the sinking. Although the engine prototypes were lost, the Japanese, using the blueprints that had been air-dropped, developed the Nakajima Kikka (orange blossom) jets based on the Me-262 and the Mitsubishi J8M Shusui (sword stroke) based on the Me-163.

Despite the loss of the I-29, the Yanagi missions continued. While jet engine technology managed to reach the Japanese, Uranium oxides did not, fortunately.  Another story involving Japanese attempts to mine and ship the material from Thailand will follow later. While it is not established that the I-29 carried Uranium dioxide, other Yanagi subs, such as U 234, which moved a significant amount of strategic equipment and specialists, supposedly carried a large amount of Uranium dioxide stored in lead caskets, while Nazi Germany was collapsing and in its death throes.

The story of the U-234, which surrendered to America, is, for those interested, a fascinating read. Did the captured uranium become part of the payload of the ‘Little Boy’ dropped at Hiroshima? Joseph M. Scalia’s book Germany's Last Mission to Japan: The Failed Voyage of U-234 discusses the topic.

The story of Bose, who arrived in Tokyo, his work with the IIL, INA, and the creation of the Azad Hind Fauj with volunteers and Indian soldiers captured by the Japanese, is well known; however, there are many lesser-known details. We will uncover them along the way. The story of the girl who was involved in getting a Congress radio repaired (and which reported about the Japanese submarines prowling the Malabar shorelines) will be one of them and will follow shortly.

References

More than Merchants – Khoo Salma Nasution

His Majesty’s opponent – Sugatha Bose

Yanagi Missions – Bob Hackett

Abid Hasan Safrani: Netaji’s Comrade-in-Arms, Ismat Mehdi and Shehbaz Safrani

Relevant articles

On and Under the High Seas – Maddy’s Ramblings

The Indian Swaraj Institute (ISI) and the 5th column- Maddy’s Ramblings

The fate of the Penang ISI's 5th column- Maddy’s Ramblings

Those interested in seeing the innards of a U-boat, click this link

And the inside of a Japanese submarine – see this video

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