Subhadra Sen Gupta - Lets Go Time Travelling Again!

When I wrote Lets Go Time Travelling about the life of the people of India in the past, I had a plan. The book was going to be nothing like the history textbooks that you have to study in school. The book would have no kings or queens, no economic policy or battles. Best of all, I would ignore dates completely.

When I showed my text to the illustrator Tapas Guha, he laughed and said, You are being funny about history. So can I do cartoons? We had never had so much fun doing a book together before. To our surprise, many children liked the book and have been sending me emails saying I should do another book like it. So here it is.

While the first book was about the daily lives of people, this one is about the lives of many kinds of peopleall the ordinary people who have, over centuries, changed our civilization and have been forgotten. Think of the weaver who made the first loom; the sculptor who created a Chola bronze statue and most importantly, the genius mathematician who worked out our numerical system and imagined zero and infinity. Without the numbers we could not have computer programming and what is really sad is that we dont even know their names.

So, in this book, youll read about the lives of potters and weavers; farmers and gardeners; mathematicians and astronomers; singers, dancers and merchants. Youll read also about the professions that have vanished, like the travelling minstrels and storytellers; the merchants who travelled along the Silk Road and sailors who went on dangerous voyages across the Indian Ocean. All the quiet, talented, forgotten Indiansthese are their stories.

A book like this begins with all the historians whose big, fat tomes gave me all the information. Then, a book needs many friends: like my editor Sohini Mitra, who has been patiently beside me from the first book and always encourages me to dream, and Smit Zaveri, who read and reread the text and fact-checked everything to spot my mistakes. I thank them all.

Subhadra Sen Gupta

March, 2021

One

P OTTERS , W EAVERS A ND S WORD M AKERS

It was raining really hard and Sita had nothing to do except chat with Baba and Ma. Not that they were really interested in chatting with her.

Sita wandered through their thatched hut to the back veranda where her mother was stirring a pot of masoor dal over the open earthen fire of the unoon and at the same time, peeling and chopping brinjal.

Hmm... Sita peered critically into the pot with a thoughtful frown. Dal and begoon bhaja... Ma?

And your favourite maacher jhaal. Her mother pointed to a small basket sitting next to the unoon. Fish in mustard sauce, Sita.

Sitas smile widened as her eyes shone brightly with happiness. Ohh... we are having fish after such a long time!

Your baba got an order for Baluchari saris yesterday and he got the fish from the fishermen at the ghat this morning.

More than one sari? Nine-year-old Sita was a weavers daughter, so she understood the value of getting a big order.

Her ma held up three fingers. Three saris!

Sita watched as her mother took the pot of dal off the fire and put a metal karahi on it. She poured mustard oil into it and opened a covered basket. Inside, there were a bunch of small river fish that she quickly cleaned and scaled. She rubbed them with salt and turmeric and then, with a loud hiss, she slid the pieces of fish into the hot oil. Soon, the air was full of the pungent aroma of frying fish.