The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian

by Nirad C. Chaudhuri, Ian Jack

The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian is an astonishing work of self-discovery and the revelation of a peerless and provocative sensibility. Describing his childhood in the Bengali countryside and his youth in Calcutta—and telling the story of modern India from his own fiercely independent viewpoint—Chaudhuri fashions a book of deep conviction, charm, and intimacy that is also a masterpiece of the writer's art.

Genres: India, Nonfiction, Biography, History, Memoir, Indian Literature, Autobiography

536 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1951

About the author

Nirad C. Chaudhuri (Bangla: নীরদ চন্দ্র চৌধুরী Nirod Chôndro Choudhuri) was a Bengali−English writer and cultural commentator. He was born in 1897 in Kishoreganj, which today is part of Bangladesh but at that time was part of Bengal, a region of British India.

He was awarded the Sahitya Akademi Award, in 1975 for his biography on Max Müller called Scholar Extraordinary, by the Sahitya Akademi, India's national academy of letters. In 1992, he was honoured by Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom with the title of Commander of Order of the British Empire (CBE). His 1965 work The Continent of Circe earned him the Duff Cooper Memorial Award, becoming the first and only Indian to be selected for the prize.

In 1951 he published his most famous book, Autobiography of an Unknown Indian, a penetrating and challenging analysis of Indian history, culture and British rule. The controversial dedication to the memory of the British Empire caused a furore at the time but the book is now considered a classic work of Indian literature. He was awarded the Duff Cooper Memorial Prize for The Continent of Circe (1965), was made CBE in 1992 and received the Hon.D.Litt from the University of Oxford; the University of Viswa Bharati also awarded him Deshikottama, its highest honorary degree.

A passionate admirer of western culture, he first visited England in 1955, a visit which inspired his book Passage to England. He decided to make his home in Oxford in 1970 when he was over seventy. He was a familiar and arresting sight out and about in Oxford, a diminutive figure, always impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit, although he wore Indian attire at home. He wrote his last book Three Horsemen of the New Apocalypse only a year before his death at the age of nearly 102.

Reviews

[Khush · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nirad C. Chaudhuri was an eccentric man, but he could be admired for his eccentricity. He grew up in in a very conservative, though educated, middle-class Bengali family. He admired the English, or shall I say he adored them – their language and literature. He knew London as he knew his native Calcutta even though he had never been to London. Once he was in a small gathering in Delhi, listening to someone who had already been living in London for over four decades. As the speaker continued describing London to his listeners, Nirad corrected him concerning the location of a particular street in London. Such was the man. Often painted in India as 'just a cantankerous old fellow', 'totally irrelevant,' 'a reactionary relic of the 20th century' and so forth.

He was unabashedly Anglophile. When he wrote his controversial autobiography, the Indian government was not amused – particularly for the tongue-in-cheek dedication that Nirad wrote. He claimed that whatever is good in India is because of the British rule. It offended the nationalist sensibilities. For very misinformed reasons, the book was banned in India. Consequently, he left for England in his early fifties, not a very good to age to move to another country. However, considering his love for the English, one could also argue that he finally came home. In his own words, "my life has always moved West and once it has done so its direction has never been reversed.''

In his autobiography, he wrote in great detail about his growing up years; the content itself was a great source of knowledge about the socio-cultural practices prevalent at the time, which also includes the funny comparisons between Punjabi and Bengali women. Apart from his quirky observations, he seriously bashed Indians for their obsession with religion and superstition, and the kind of hypocrisy he saw in Indian social life. In his odd way, he also ridiculed the British for their stupidity in some areas while they ruled India.

The book has episodes that clearly indicates how eccentric he was. According to him, the greatest four intellectuals in the world that he considered truly learned are the followings: Harnack, Eduard Meyer, Mommsen and the fourth one — a difficult name — Wilamowitz-Moellndorf. Nirad wanted to be the fifth. He became one.

There are many admirers of Nirad, but he has also many critics. V.S Naipaul, for instance, called him a fraud, a man with a big ego whose only subject was Nirad himself – someone who 'unexpectedly' wrote only one great book and then went on to become a clown who performed only to impress his audience. I guess Naipaul was too harsh on him. Who knows this better than Naipaul that one does not write good books by chance. But we can ignore Naipaul, he is known for saying 'funny' things.

[Murtaza · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nirad Chaudhuri was the product of the refined Anglo-Bengali humanist culture that briefly grew during the last generations of British rule. The most famous products of this renaissance were Rabindranath Tagore and Manmohan Roy. This book is a reflection on Chaudhuri's very ordinary life growing up in a small town in the Bengal, and later Calcutta. Although his reflections on that world were often charming, I was less interested in them than I was in him as a man and his perspective on what was then India. Chaudhuri was an Anglophile of the most severe type. But unlike many others, he was not merely a shallow imitator. He drank deeply from the wellsprings of the European culture that he adored so much. Incredibly, he never even set foot in Europe until he was almost in his sixties. He developed an idealized image of England and the West from afar, and was convinced that it was the civilization that he wanted to be a part of. In fact, he considered himself a part of it.

We tend to acidly dismiss such people as native informants and lackeys today. And in a sense, it is true. It was not so simple in Chaudhuri's case though. He was a very self-aware individual who, in addition to his love of British high culture, was frequently revolted by the racial arrogance of the actual British colonists he occasionally encountered. He was not blind to the obvious, but he simply became enchanted with the world he found in European books. In a way, he was like everyone who studies a place from afar, falls in love with what they read, and then builds an idealized image of it in their mind. Later in life when he actually lived in England he reportedly developed a bit more jaundiced picture.

Chaudhuri was a relentless critic of his own Bengali Hindu community. He criticized the Muslims of the Bengal too, but more subtly and in less detail. I think this was due to his greater familiarity with Hindus, which of course gave him more intimate proximity to their flaws. According to him, the Two-Nations Theory and Partition were inevitable because any Indian with a sense of historical awareness was obviously nurturing sectarian hatred for their compatriots within their hearts. He freely confesses to having this sectarian feeling within himself at times, though, being able to step back and analyze it from a distance, he was able to mostly neutralize it. As soon as the British left and the shared Muslim-Hindu hatred of the colonists thus lost its focus, he said that Indians would tear each other apart on communal grounds. The only thing that could save them was a new universal ideology like liberalism. Liberalism did hang on in India for some decades, but it seems to be in its obvious death throes today. This is a worrisome sign for the future. Even a Hindu nationalist figure like Bipin Chandra Pal said that totally abandoning the Indian nation to pursue a "Hindu Rashtra" would be national suicide. History shows that people in fact make such mistakes all the time.

Chaudhuri argues, somewhat hauntingly for our own contemporary societies, that the hatred among Indians was virile and intellectually-organized, whereas coexistence — despite being the common experience of most of Indians — was without deep intellectual roots. The Hindu and Muslim masses of the Raj were so downtrodden they were barely aware of their traditions or the differences between them. As soon as they started to rise, the differences would accentuate, fatally so. Chaudhuri focuses the vast bulk of his analysis on Hindu chauvinism, though I would assume that similar tendencies existed among the Muslims. I'd like to read a similar analysis from a Muslim perspective though I'm not sure where to look. Chaudhuri was against nationalist historiography because he believed that false understandings of the past would give a people a false idea of their future as well. He faulted Gandhi for sending South Asians down a path of anti-Western revivalism that he knew they could not tread as carefully as he did. An intellectual and spiritual revolt against the West would ultimately lead South Asians back into the dead-ends of atavism, xenophobia and potential collapse. Unfortunately I think he might have been on to something with this critique.

Chaudhuri was undoubtedly a very odd man. During the time that he lived, I suspect I would not have liked him much. People can appear different in retrospect though. The liberal European worldview that Chaudhuri loved so much and strived to embody is beginning to waver and in some places die, particularly in India. With its passing we might wish for people like him again; people who felt the basic liberal inclination to try and see things from the others perspective and get along with them on that basis. I also respect him as someone who lived the life of the mind and study. Whether you agree with him or not, his remarkable erudition did not come out of thin air.

Chaudhuri came from humble, remote origins in the Bengal and made himself into something like the quintessential British gentleman. His entire life and identity was a product of this incredible feat of self-cultivation. The subtle contention of his life was that to live well in the world that the West made, one must become a Westerner. Regardless of how that makes you feel, it is not a claim that is easily dismissed.

[Kamakana · Rating 4 out of 5]

290717: not exactly an Everyman life in early 20th century India, Bengal and Calcutta, as the author is educated, professional, perceptive, and thorough in both his own history and that of his culture. i do not know the current state of living, politics, culture, in India, but it is intriguing to see history, reverberations, from recent past. i do not know about his varied portraits of Hindu, Muslim, city, village, work, leisure, ethics, prejudices, of his time, but again he does seem sincere...

this is a long book. there are no great plots, no great characters, and perhaps is most interesting in an anthropological way. he gives you his childhood, his education, his early career- but other aspects of his life are not much mentioned: wife, friends... not exactly a Bildungsroman, for there does not seem to be any particular momentous and maturing event, rather he just grows up, he learns, his perspective broadens, he is moved to offer his diagnosis of his country/culture... banal but to me compelling. sharp, unsparing, precise, fascinating portrait of the times and places...

[Anil Swarup · Rating 3 out of 5]

This voluminous presentation by Nirad Babu is much more than his autobiography. The book leaves the reader in no doubt about the levels of erudition that the author had achieved and his command over the English language. First half of the book deals with his personal life and is the more difficult part from reader's perspective. His elaborate description of the days spent in the village and then his ruminations about what he found in Kolkata are perhaps for the purists and not a casual reader. However, when he shifts gears to provide his insights into the freedom movement, the narration becomes interesting. There is no doubt that he is forthright and blunt about whatever he has to say be it his understanding of nationalism or even what Gandhi was doing to the national movement. The book ultimately attempts to provide an understanding of Indian history giving it a new twist altogether. One wonders how could this be treated as part of an autobiography. But then, that is Nirad Choudhary for you..........unconventional.

[Riku Sayuj]

Possibly a great book and a wonderful chronicle of the times, but do consider beforehand Chaudhuri's cringe-worthy dedication to the British Empire in India:

To the memory of the British Empire in India,
Which conferred subjecthood on us,
but withheld citizenship.
To which yet every one of us threw out the challenge:
‘Civis Britannicus sum’
Because all that was good and living within us
was made, shaped and quickened
by the same British rule.

[Claire S]

His masterpiece, The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian (ISBN 0-201-15576-1), published in 1951, put him on the short list of great Indian English writers. He courted controversy in the newly independent India in the dedication of the book itself which ran thus:

“ To the memory of the British Empire in India,

Which conferred subjecthood upon us,
But withheld citizenship.
To which yet every one of us threw out the challenge:
"Civis Britannicus sum"
Because all that was good and living within us
Was made, shaped and quickened
By the same British rule.”

The dedication, which was actually a mock-imperial rhetoric, infuriated many Indians, particularly the political and bureaucratic establishment. "The wogs took the bait and having read only dedication sent up howls of protest", commented Chaudhuri's friend, the editor, historian and novelist Khushwant Singh. Chaudhuri was hounded out of government service, deprived of his pension, blacklisted as a writer in India and forced to live a life of penury.

Chaudhuri comented later that he had been misunderstood. "The dedication was really a condemnation of the British rulers for not treating us as equals", he wrote in the Granta article. Typically, to demonstrate what exactly he had been trying to say, he drew on a parallel with ancient Rome. The book's dedication, he said "was an imitation of what Cicero said about the conduct of Verres, a Roman proconsul of Sicily who oppressed Sicilian Roman citizens, although in their desperation they cried out: "Civis Romanus Sum".


per Wikipedia:

# Although he was highly critical of the post-independence Congress party establishment, he was more sympathetic to the right-wing Hindu nationalist movement in India. He refused to criticise the destruction of Babri structure: "I say the Muslims do not have the slightest right to complain the desecration of one mosque. From 1000 AD every Hindu temple from Kathiawar to Bihar, from the Himalayas to Vindhyas had been sacked and defiled."
# His views on Hindutva, like those of other scholars like V. S. Naipaul and Koenraad Elst although widely disseminated in the Indian media were not widely appreciated. To this day he remains a controversial figure.
# He was also deeply distressed by what he saw as the deep hypocrisy in Bengali social life and in particular those that resulted from class and caste distinctions. His historical research revealed to him that rigid Victorian style morality of middle class Bengali women was a socially enforced construct, that had less to do with religion, choice and judgment, but more to do with upbringing, social acceptance and intergenerational transference of values. Being a scholar in the comparative-historical mode, he could see very clearly that the excessive suppression of sexuality in modern India was actually counterproductive and counterintuitive. In this, it could be argued that he was a student of sociology and was following the footsteps of Max Weber, and to a certain extent, the psychology of Sigmund Freud. Yet in another way, he was also a feminist although he rejected dogmatic feminism quite early in his scholarly career.

[Preetam Chatterjee · Rating 5 out of 5]

#Re-read
"It is not Chaudhuri the scholar who wrote these reckless sentences but the other Chaudhuri, the man of tall prejudices, whose self-pitying moralism taints so much of his intellectual output." — Nissim Ezekiel, Scholar Extraordinary

I had the stumbled delight of reading this book in 1996, right after the conclusion of my School final examinations. My embryonic mind was not really able to make much of either the tortuous language or blistering sentence construction let alone the often scattered occurrences of passages in French, German and Latin.

I returned to this book, seven winters later and struck gold.

Nirad babu’s strong suit was autobiographical writing. Not only is his two volume autobiography the longest in the English language, autobiographical elements are sprinkled over his other writings as well except for his biographies of Max Mueller and Robert Clive.

Now, an autobiography is a literary form with great psychological significance. Autobiography writing is a difficult art. An autobiography is literature of personal revelation and its main strength lies in the following:

1) A cognisant self-portrayal by the author, i.e. the writer must be candid.

2) There should be no camouflage or shying away from one’s blunders and limitation and there should be no endeavour at self-glorification.

3) The genuineness should neither be masked nor embellished.

4) The narration should be sequential and the version of the external life must go hand in hand with a representation of inner life.

However, all aforesaid difficulties peter out, if the writer writes because of his inner impulses, because of a push for articulateness which he can neither contain nor control.

Nirad babu was motivated by such an urge, hence the magnitude of his autobiography.

The Autobiography was Nirad Chaudhuri's first book to have caught the serious attention of the readers. It has a General Preface in which Nirad depicts his purpose, plans and goals in writing the book.

The essence of this book is so very extremely distinctive because, through it, Nirad babu tried to shrivel the history of his life with the histories of India and of Britain. It was a token, both of insensitivity as well as overconfidence that a writer, who was ‘a nobody’ otherwise, could attempt such a work.

To the degree that his oddball stance was concerned, Nirad babu was so, both in his choices of life and in his construal of India and Britain. One of his life's initial maverick choices was in 1919 when he dropped out of a post-graduation course even after standing First in the First Class at graduation.

There are also four smaller prefaces attached to the four books into which ‘Autobiography’ is divided. Each preface typifies the purpose of the book, to which it is attached. The prefaces are facsimiles of elucidation and rationalization, and their style is eloquent, venerable and uncomplicated to identify with.

Each in its turn is a classic of English prose.

The most eye catching part of the book is its dedication; it is to the memory of the British Empire in India on the ground that -

"All that was good and living / Within us / Was made, shaped, and quickened / By the same British rule."

Needless to say, the dedication stated something which was, till then, not accepted by people in general. It proclaimed what most Indians and many Britons declined to be acquainted with — the upbeat traits of British imperialism in India. In allegorical language, the ardour seemed to concede an almost ‘non-existing’ liability.

The book has been dedicated to the English Empire “which conferred subject hood on us, butwithheld citizenship”.

The closing words are sardonic and indicative of the refutation of civil rights to Indians by the Imperialists. Still, ‘All that was good and living within us was made, shaped, and quickened by the same British rule.” This undoubtedly elicits Nirad C. Chaudhuri’s hesitant mind-set towards the British. His was a love-hate association with the British.

The Autobiography is separated into four books and each book into four chapters. The first is entitled “Early Environment” and its four chapters are (a) My Birth Place, (b) My Ancestral Place, (c) My Mother’s Place, and (d) England.

Together, they illustrate the milieu, both corporal and intellectual, in which the boy Nirad grew up.

As Nirad recited ‘Earth has not anything to show more fair’, the light of dawn in all its purity seemed to descend on him, unfolding the celestial beauty of London. He became familiar with the names of several English and European personalities at a very early age.

To him as to the educated Bengal of that time Shakespeare was ‘the epitome, test, and symbol of literary culture.”

No less adulation did Napoleon obtain, though he belonged to a completely dissimilar field of activity. Chaudhuri’s inquisitiveness in warfare can be outlined in the enigmatic persona of Napoleon as a military hero. Burke for the impeachment of Warren Hastings received his heartfelt veneration.

Although England of his imagination was a land of exquisiteness and poetry, about Englishmen essentially residing in India he came to gain many perplexing notions which were current among Indians.

Once he heard from his teacher that the English race was born of a she-monkey by a demon, and like monkeys, they were very partial to bananas. As a consequence of this impression, he and his brother once hid from an Englishman coming up the road from the reverse direction.

This approach of Indians towards the Englishmen could be elucidated simply in terms of the antagonism of the ruler and the ruled then existed between the two races. The initial chapters thus give an account of his rural background in East Bengal and the intellectual background which made Nirad babu an anglophile.

A barrage of ruthless denigration hit Chaudhuri instantly after the publication of his maiden book. He never acted contrite for it but maintained that he was misread.

That he did care for the Indian estimation of him is showcased by the detail that, 45 years later, he wrote a convoluted rationalization for the contentious dedication. His article, circulated on August 15, 1996, is translated from Bengali as follows:

If anybody has an authority on the English language, then he would understand without delay that in such dedication, I have criticised British authorities in India, not praised them. I praised, even boasted about, our attitude because of which we could reconstruct European culture despite being under British rule who were against it. The proof of my logic is the Latin sentence in the dedication: Civis Brittanicus Sum. A little knowledge of Roman history would explain its significance without difficulty. One would realise that I have written these words in imitation of a quotation by Cicero.
Chaudhuri was an eccentric writer. The foibles pertained to the substance of his writings, not to his technique — the essence was by and large individualist whereas the approach was often orthodox.

‘The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin’ is considered by some as one of the best autobiographies ever published. Nirad babu’s book would be up there as well, in the sheer enormity of expression and merciless lack of guile.

Over the years, this book has acquired many illustrious aficionados. Churchill deemed it one of the most excellent books he had ever read, as said by his daughter, Mary Soames. Naipaul observed: “No better account of the penetration of the Indian mind by the West - and by extension, of the penetration of one culture by another - will be or now can be written.”

A must read !!

[Sean de la Rosa · Rating 3 out of 5]

More than 500 pages of autobiographical work on the life of Nirad Chaudhuri, an unknown Indian born in 1897 in Kishorganj, a small town in present Bangladesh.

For the book: it relays wonderful facts, tales, myths and superstitions about India in the early twentieth century. He also refers to the works of Ghandi and Tagore quite a bit which I enjoyed.

Against the book: I found Chaudhuri patronizing in places with the endless use of unnecessarily long words and quotes in French and German with no English translation to follow. The text was overdone and went off on tangents a lot (I sensed Chaudhuri had spare time on his hands to re-write large portions of his work – this did more harm than any good).

A few quotes I really enjoyed:
It is only the exceptional man, the genius and the creator, who brings something of his own which can be distinguished from the common legacy.
He that commits repeated sins, even the Ganges makes not pure.
A system is only worth as much as the men who work it.
The true university of these days is a collection of books.
Nothing great was ever achieved by cleverness.
The great paradox in this hostility of the general mass of Indians towards the things of the West is that nearly all our great men of the nineteenth century were not able to gain any recognition from their countrymen nor exert any influence over them until they were recognised in the West...Tagore was looked upon almost as an illiterate person before he received the Nobel Prize.

I dislike giving scores of 3, but I think that is what this book deserves.

[Anurag · Rating 4 out of 5]

This once controversial book now appears to be a must-read to understanding the extent of Indian colonialism. Although it is dedicated to the memories of British empire, it is hardly an account of railways, town halls or the administrative paraphernalia - things that we attribute India's modernity to. It is an account of the Indian ambiguity towards the empire's legacy.

The account is beautiful in the way Chaudhuri's life is intertwined with that of the Raj. His excitement about Queen Victoria coincides with his youth while his days of remorse and sadness occur when British brutally suppress the spirit of Indian nationalism. The boring self-centered details of his own life turn out to be allegories to the empire - which remains an uncertain force in his life. As described in the dedication note, it is a force that had shaped what's good in Indians and yet denied them a sense of belonging. This is subtly aligned with his own relationship to his mother.

The legacy of the empire has indeed been ambiguous to Indians. It'll probably take more time to understand the ever-lasting effects of colonialism. Without its postmodernist clutter, what post-colonial writing has explained us is that the distance from natives is at the heart of poverty and class divisions in the developing world. Poverty, isn't then merely a lack of resources - it is a far deeper problem.

Why Chaudhuri's book is still relevant - is the way he describes the Indian enjoyment in decimation of their own culture while creating this distance from natives. His birthplace, Kishoreganj, retains memories of a Sanskritic past, but his present is transformed into a confusion of languages. Indian Hindus, he finds, are left with nothing but an immense sense of loss and often find themselves seething with anger for having witnessed their culture being destroyed by invaders. In dire poverty, they don't have the institutions to save or create within the ancient cultural framework which they claim to embrace.

What empire had unwittingly done was to expose Indians to the cannon of Western knowledge and in some ways reinvigorate this classical Sanskritic spirit. Chaudhuri eloquently describes an unrequited love for British institutions, but he also describes how this love is limited by the petty racism in the empire.

Even to this day, a Savarkar-style utilitarian withdrawal from the material aspects of Indian culture and a revenge-seeking politics that emanates from it - are at the heart of Indian nationalism. Chaudhuri only has disgust to offer for the kind of nationalism that Gandhi had tactically negotiated for. Much later than this book was written, Naipaul, in a similar tone, would take a disparaging angle at the Indian hypocrisy - by pointing out for example, that Radhakrishnan (the first Indian president and a public intellectual) believed that Sanskrit ought to limit itself to platonic spirituality - shunning the aspects of human love which poets like Kalidasa had talked about.

The experience of Turkish or African nationalism can be compared to that of India - but it is not as easy to explain why a Chaudhuri-style reminiscing of the empire or an internal conflict with Gandhian nationalism still exists in India. The foremost explanation seems that the ideas of nationalism hadn't really picked up amongst Indians - who are not violent by nature - or that Indians are in some ways thankful to the British for the railways (which is indeed the popular belief in Britain). But only a deeper understanding of the Indian mind can explain why a pan-Indian nationalist identity was never felt necessary in India.

The historical and somewhat personal reality which the book offers as explanation is that Indians simply didn't feel as oppressed or weak during the empire - at least not as much as we often extrapolate from studying economics. The real problem with the colonized world was that people seemed content with their withdrawal from the material culture. As they aligned themselves to their economic realities of the time, they had yielded some ground to the foreign rule. Troubles only started when the foreign rule was gone and attempts to reclaim that material ground were being made.

Chaudhuri correctly predicts a lot about decolonization before it had started. However, he is often inaccurate and falls short of theorizing the power hierarchies operating in the West itself. He finds the underlying hatred for invaders in the Hindu as somewhat fundamental but he fails to comment, probably consciously, on the power-hierarchies operating in the Western world - the way Foucault would later have. His generalization about Hindus is not once concerned with the Hindu culture in Southern India which wasn't directly affected by either the British empire or the Islamic rule and has done well after the independence from the British.

Despite its flaws and idiosyncrasies, Chaudhuri's book is proof that Macaulay's legacy in India had left a fine product of colonialism in form of the educated class that Chaudhuri was a part of. Despite how much we lament the loss of this scholarship, we have to come to terms with its disappearance in history. Indians can only be as ambiguous and reminiscent about this benign educated class of Indians as they are about the brutalities of the empire. In realizing this, we are where Chaudhuri once was.

[Himanshu Khurana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Winston Churchill had read ‘The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian' by Nirad Chaudhuri and thought it one of the best books he ever read. The book since it was published in 1951 has enjoyed a wide fan-following, sustained readership and even some sort of cult status. Nobel Prize Laureate V.S. Naipual wrote,"No better account of the penetration of the Indian mind by the West-and by extension, of the penetration of one culture by another- will be or now can be written." It is beyond doubt that this book is essentially a masterpiece and its author’s erudition, intellectual engagement and boldness is conspicuous throughout this eminently readable book.

If I were to take an overarching look, this book follows three major strands: firstly, the authors’s childhood, his mores around his immediate and extended family and his experiences as a precocious child in suburban eastern Bengal; secondly, his intellectual engagements which could be coarsely described as his school and college education and more sophisticatedly how he’s enamoured of the written word across genres and varieties, and thirdly, his understandings of history, politics, culture and philosophy as theoretical disciplines and consequentially his perceptions of that of the world with a particular focus on the course of Indian history. In the terms of Hegelian dialectic which he has singularly employed throughout the book, the first strand(thesis) of filial and localised experiences on the one hand and the second strand of his intellectual engagements (anti-thesis) on the other hand gives rise to the ‘synthesis’ of his grandiose historical and philosophical treatises on the course of Indian history.

However, on a close reading of this book one may overlook how his eminent erudition gives way to intellectual haughtiness. This supposedly magnificent historical exposition is nothing new but largely follows the then prevalent strands of imperialist historiography and its penchant for classifying historical periods on the basis of grand ideas and ideologies. Further, over-generalisation is the biding trope and the author falls into the trap of framing a determinist interpretation of history, that is attempting to fit every nook and cranny of events past into one big hypothesis wherein even the exceptions are essentially incorporated into the general rule.

Inspite of some of the pitfalls of this book, it is predominantly an engaging and enlightening read replete with illustrations of the author’s fine learning and elegant style of writing. Like any other great piece of writing, it will be read differently by different people. I must end this review with saying that this book deserves its place in one of the greatest non-fiction prose produced in the sub-continent.

[Tarun · Rating 3 out of 5]

The quality of writing is superb. Nirad C. Chaudhuri style reminds me of the English of India's founding fathers. His grasp on the language is unwavering.That said, I couldn't finish the book. The first half was quite interesting but my desire to go on petered out somewhere after the middle.

[Vedanshu Tripathi · Rating 5 out of 5]

one of the finest postcolonial autobiographies.

[Tom Leland · Rating 2 out of 5]

Very rare that I don't finish a book -- perhaps 10 times in 30 years; I now know much about growing up in Bengal (now Bangladesh) at turn of 20th century, but other than that I couldn't muster interest for this chronicle of his life/study of his people and their theologies. Word choice is often odd to me, and it's old enough that I'm sure much has changed - and since I'm not bent on getting into Indian life of the last 50 years or so, which would help me understand what's transpired since this book's writing, there was little keeping me attached to finishing it. I always feel like a quitter when stopping a book -- but avoiding that feeling was all that got me through the 50 pages or so leading up to around page 175, where I left off...

[Gregory · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wonderful account of growing up in mid 20th century India, from the dynamics of family life in rural villages to the political dynamics during the time of Gandhi. The first half, concerning childhood, was especially entertaining for me, and I happily soaked up every little detail about a family life that differed so much from my own.

[Vivek · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nirad C. Chaudhuri's Autobiography of an Unknown Indian covers the author's years from his birth in 1897 to 1947. Ramchandra Guha rated this as one of the best autobiographies by an Indian. Chaudhuri describes his own life , growing up in Kishoreganj, now in Bangladesh, to his life as a student in Calcutta and then as a young man. Side by side he describes his growing political and cultural growth and how he became a scholar. I cannot imagine how anyone read this book in the pre-Google days. Words like autochthon, philoprogenetiveness, concinnity and my favourite, houyhnhnms make you reach for the dictionary. The liberal sprinkling of French, Latin and German phrases and verse without translation take you to Google Translate . And references to Greek, Roman and Biblical mythology make you search Wikipedia. Men of letters who met Nirad Chaudhuri, such as Khushwant Singh and Ramchandra Guha, came away in the awe of his scholarship. Presciently, in 1949, he wrote about the moral and political decline of society that has manifested itself in the corrupt state that India is today. Not a light book but a thoroughly enjoyable read.

[Arvind Radhakrishnan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nirad Chaudhuri's 'Autobiography of an Unknown Indian' is one of the finest books on India.In my view it is one of best commentaries on Indian social,political,and,cultural life.He has analysed a wide range of issues ranging from the nature of colonial rule,the Bengal Renaissance,the puritan streak that both Hindu conservatives and the Brahmo's possessed,the transactional nature of Hindus,the terrible plight of our education system,our family structure,the absence of an ethical core amongst educated Indians,and a host of other pertinent issues.

He understood the Indian psyche so well, especially that pernicious mix of servility and malice.His prose is so mesmerizing and at times pellucid.His anger is very tangible but it stems out of wisdom,a deep concern and a lifetime of rumination aided by his immensely impressive erudition..it is a lucid rage.I am elated that I reread this gem after more than a decade.Nirad Chaudhuri continues to educate me.His views seem even more relevant to me today,especially when we are sleepwalking towards theocracy and our democracy is under severe attack.

[Anand Simha · Rating 4 out of 5]

Scholarly but not balanced on controversial topics but a should read

This voluminous autobiography of Nirad Chaudhuri runs to 600+ pages on a book size that is larger than a pocket book. It is characterized by the author's keen sense of observation, with indication in every page, of his erudition especially in English literature, so much so that sometimes it becomes difficult for the lay reader to grasp the full purport of his account without the reader's own ability to appreciate the generous quotations from literary works of the Victorian Era.

As a fellow Indian and coming from a family background similar to Nirad's (middle class, emphasis on morality and education during formative years, etc), the book is very engaging in that I could "live through" what the author recounts of his immediate and extended families, his home, town, school, teachers and life in general, although I come from a region in India far removed from East Bengal (which by the way was not a separate country then) both geographically, linguistically and to some extent culturally too.

I have found a few things striking in Nirad's life, family and the general milieu that he grew up in: amazed by his liberal upbringing even in "those days" - especially his mother's independent nature and `going against the grain' that too for a woman; my confirmation of the Bengali's pre-eminent position amongst Indians in matters of literature (as well as art). People, I mean the educated class, would quote from literary works in everyday conversations and arguments; surprised by, how Bengali intelligentsia had fallen head over heels with Shakespeare's works.
The book is more a treatise than an autobiography - a treatise on Indian polity at that time, Indian history and Hinduism - all these are obviously loaded topics and one cannot expect profound treatment of the subjects but the author gleans on all these topics with ease and offers his own well formulated views - views that sometimes prove difficult to digest. Nirad comes across as opinionated at times, but if one reads him carefully one appreciates that these are opinions formulated with sufficient ground. But, personally I feel he has been uncharitable to Hinduism and the East in general. He makes no secret of his unabashed adulation of the West and its ways but being the inveterate critic that he is, doesn't hesitate to wield his whip against the English and Westerners in general. Nirad is even caustic in his remarks, especially of Hindus and Hinduism. He is definitely a confirmed liberal but one does not understand why that should mean the foreigner is right most of the times. He conveniently fails to mention the West's fallacies. Instead, he never missed an opportunity to point out the `civilizing' effect of the West on India and Indians. Did not the West learn anything? One fails to understand why the author is silent on the storied spirituality of the East and India in particular. (I have not read any of the author's other works, so I make this remark with some caution). Similarly, about Turks, Persians and other Muslim invaders. The meekness of Hindus in the face of the marauding Muslim invaders is something that no Indian is proud about, but Nirad could have taken a moment to condemn that it was patently wrong to desecrate religious places of the vanquished. He mentions proselytization in passing but could have taken a harder stance against it.

Another astonishing feature about this "autobiography" is, while the author provides a graphic description of his childhood and of the places where he spent his childhood, it is totally opaque when it comes to throwing light on his later years. His silence on his career should lead one to believe that he had nothing to be proud of nor even enjoyed it. He brooks no hesitation in admitting his total dislike of his first job which was dreary to say the least, albeit better paying than that of a college professor that he had hoped to become. The reader is unable to fathom why Nirad, while very clear as a student about his career ambition to become a professor, did not complete his Master's degree knowing very well that one could not hope to fulfill this ambition without the said degree. He attributes his lack of aspiration to his inability to concentrate, in spite of completing his Bachelor's in flying colors. Given his scholarly achievements in the literary field and his penchant for scholarly reading, one would have thought that he could take to advance studies like a duck taking to water. The reader is not clear about the exact reasons for this anomalous development in Nirad's life except guessing that he wanted to study in "his own terms" and did not want to be straight jacketed into any particular regimen or `syllabus', howsoever enticing the rewards were to be. Personally I am filled with pity for the author on this count - not only because he could not, or rather did not pursue something that would have been natural to his being, but also because a large swath of his life became listless. I am coming to this significant conclusion about the `listlessness' based on his silence on anything remotely connected to his career during, what would have otherwise been his prime working years. There is also no mention of his family life as a married man - how did he meet his wife, what kind of a family life did he have. He mentions in a different context that he had only sons but no daughters. I would not like to speculate the reasons for this silence but would safely assume that, perhaps the author wanted to remain silent for reasons of privacy.

I also have a complaint against the publisher (Jaico Books) - they have not cared to provide any footnotes whatsoever nor translations of the French/German quotations from books that Nirad quotes liberally. The most that has been done is italicizing non-English words.
Lastly, in spite of disappointments on several counts as already mentioned, I would give a thumbs up to this work without any hesitation. My reasons are rich language, scholarship and the close insight into Indian consciousness as it developed through the 19th and the first half of 20th century. The author's views appeal to a rational mind and is a direct hit at the parochial minded.

It is a book I would recommend every Indian to read.

[Soumya · Rating 3 out of 5]

A complex mind, a declared anglophile, an encyclopedic, a historian with penchant for objectivity and a tendency to ruffle feathers - Nirad C. Chaudhuri represents all of these. His voracious criticism of the national movement from 1905, the English in India and life in Calcutta and his views on Indian nationalism and history can interest people as well as enrage less liberal minds. He was a strange contrast of a man who fell in love with the Bengali countryside and yet looked at England as the epitome of civilization. His essay written during his academic years on the need for objectivity in studying history has lessons for contemporary India where people tend to confuse between myth and history. This book was just the first part of his autobiography. I am looking forward to read the next one. Overall a great addition to any library !
Normally I don't comment on publisher's work as I believe a book's content is that which matters. But pages falling off and lower quality of binding in a brand new book can't be tolerated when an esteemed publisher like Jaico Publishing House(India) is concerned !

[Daniel Polansky]

Four hundred pages of Proustian recollections of the childhood and adolescence of an upper class intellectual from rural Bengal, and a hundred and fifty outlining a vigorous and wide-ranging critique of Indian culture. For so substantial a work, it feels somehow unfinished. The author’s recollections stop just as he enters adulthood and a role in the Indian independence movement which, if minor, seems like it would have been fascinating. His final thesis, while a brilliant trolling of the pretensions of his class, is so negative that it feels a little difficult to take seriously. Still, it is a extraordinary work, a depiction of an unfamiliar existence by a genius whose comprehensive familiarity with the intellectual history of Western civilization allows for fascinating comparative insight.

[Karan · Rating 1 out of 5]

Boring, partial and very descriptive. It was one of the books I loved even before I began reading it, but have been slowly and reluctantly grind into a critic.
Nirad Chaudhuri comes across as one of the foremost intellectuals of the country, but his overly descriptive writing style (which I suspect springs out of his desire to make this a historical record of the times and places that he lived in) and his unsubstantiated deductions (often right wing, though I do not consider myself an anti right wing), have left a bitter taste.
The author does not treat his readers as fools and no doubt there will be many who would adore this book, but this definitely did not do it for me.

[Srikanth · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a Magnum opus in the real sense, I wish i had any other word to convey the meaning. It isnt exactly his story but a story of his surroundings also. A brutally honest in your face book.I say that anyone who loves his country will have the balls to write about her fallacies which Nirad has done. Tit bits like how sarojini naidu refused to give back the costly pen, that she signed an autograph. He was the right man at the right places at the right turn of events. A must read. Good english which we will never use, so please use a dictionary when you read the book. 1000 pages and can't write more. read it.

[Mohit Sharma · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nirad Chaudhari clearaly has great behavioural insight. Although he gives some form of historical perspective most of the book revolves around the author's young life and how his surroundings affected his views and thoughts. It's indeed a fascinating read if you're interested in the social and political stratum around early 20th century.

Here's my favorite quote from this book "I understood the life around me better, not from love, which everybody acknowledges to be a great teacher, but from estrangement, to which nobody has attributed the power of reinforcing insight"

[Ramesh Abhiraman · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars. Unique view of life in East Bengal, then Calcutta from pre Curzon days when Bengal was still one entity. Rare p. o. v. on Indian attitudes and cultural currents by an erudite historian. It is more ethnology than autobiography. Why only 3.5 stars? In places, the prose moves sluggishly. The 4 sections contain little bits of repetition and and the author indulges in a lot of self referentialty.
However, if you wanted to understand the people of Bengal, there is likely no better book.

[Siddhartha Das · Rating 5 out of 5]

Personal history mixed with the history of India. What opulence!

[Madeline · Rating 2 out of 5]

A slog, and not one obviously worth slogging.

[A. B. · Rating 5 out of 5]

The dedication on the very first page succinctly encapsulates the feelings of many of those brought up in the Anglo-Bengali culture the author describes, and who still hold a nostalgic yearning for it to this day:

To the memory of the British empire in India which conferred subjecthood on us but withheld citizenship; to which yet every one of us threw out the challenge: "Civis Britannicus Sum" because all that was good and living within us was made, shaped, and quickened by the same British rule"

All that has followed since that time of flourishing is a sense of deep degeneration, a civilizational 'Untergang' if you will, especially in Calcutta but even in England itself. This pessimistic mood finds expression in one of the most compelling theses explored in the book, how the best of Indian culture is brought out throughout history by foreign invasions (a cheeky rejoinder about the lack of a really indigenous culture, notwithstanding right-wing nationalists)- whether it be the Aryans in the last centuries before the Common Era, the Islamic empires in the 14th century and beyond, and of course the British Raj.

The book is a compelling read, describing the author's personal life and development in the first half of the 20th century in and around Calcutta. This however, functions as a proxy and a structure for the real motive of the book: to chart a socio-cultural history of Bengali society from 1900-1950, as well as to advance the author's own theories on the cyclical nature of Indian history. There are quite a few incisive insights.

The first part of the book has a charming description of his childhood in Mymensingh, East Bengal and his ancestral village. With poignant insight into the culture and society of their small town, the Durga Puja, Eid festivals and other community events. The nature of caste feeling, and communal feelings is also explored here, when the Pax Britannica still prevailed. The development of this particular Anglo-Bengali class in society is well-charted. His ideals of England- and learning about French and English history in particular is explored.

'The Torch Race of the Indian Renaissance' is a particularly good chapter- exploring the rise of Bengali humanism, cultural interchange and influence with the West. The Brahmo movement, which the author compares to the Protestant Reformation, and the Counter-reformation of the Hindu revivalists is described. Both dispensed with the native, degenerate polytheism prevalent. A fourth kind of pseudo-scientific Hinduism is summarily discarded. The moral passivity and weakness of Bengali and Hindu society is explored, being as it is unconcerned with and unaware of questions of morality, preferring custom. The evils of Hindu society too are evils of passivity instead of malice, due to which the reformers tried to inculcate a moral conscience. The moral passivity and indolence of Hindu society is excoriated wittily, a charge which still holds true to this day.

The 1907 Surat Split was essentially a Hindu liberal vs. Hindu conservative split. The author charts the deep-rooted Hindu-Muslim enmity in the culture of the period. Muslims, when seen historically, were hated; and contemporary ones were ignored- whether in their literature or in their society. It was to an extent less prevalent in East Bengal due to demographic factors. The steady rise of nationalism in the Indian polity from the 1920s, and the rise of revolutionary terrorism is described. The two types of middle class Bengali Hindu society:- the sons of Belial, who prefer temporal instead of political lives; and the sons of Moloch, who are less educated but more politically active is the outcome of the efforts. The city of Calcutta is explored in poignant imagery, exploring both its sprawl and its landmarks, the sense of repulsion coupled with attraction.

The rise of Gandhism as a political ideology, overcoming both Hindu liberals and Hindu conservatives is charted, as is the relationship between the three. There are quite a few sarcastic but accurate comments as to the former. In the last chapter, an 'Essay on the course of Indian history', as fascinating cyclical structure of history is described, where foreign influence has by far always played the highest role in the flourishing of culture, whether it be the Aryan invasions, Islamic rule or British domination. The decline of the foreign power, leads to a loss of control over the subcontinent, which leads to a phase of cultural decline. The prevalence of atavistic nationalism of Hindu society, an illiberal, communal ideology is explored.

Conclusions? Well, this cyclical structure of foreign influence is a compelling idea and a strikingly original one. Especially in its firm uncompromising stand in opposition to chauvinistic conceptions of nationalism which are so prevalent today. Any socio-cultural or political history of India would be incomplete without taking into account this brilliant, heterodox work. To understand the politics of India, we must too take a wider view and chart the entire course of the ages of men in the subcontinent; not just pithily tracing everything from 1757 or 1857. This book has been a good introduction to the social milieu of early 20th century Bengal too.

[Arvind Sharma · Rating 4 out of 5]

5 star for his writing skills and 3 star for the entire book ensemble. Nirad is a bibliophile and his repertoire of words at his disposal is incredible. Hence 5 star for his writing is a no brainer. The reason for my 3 stars of his ensemble of his past experiences and his attempt to bring out the political picture of India would need elucidation.

Firstly Nirad makes his case of the whole purpose of this autobiography was not bring out his life experience but rather to convey the political map of India with it. He briefs about 3 village where he grew up namely Kishorganj. He gives an overview of his young days and his parents. His then starts venturing into information of Calcutta and his education ( he also inserts his article which he wrote on History in college days) and Independence activities happenings side by side. He talks about his job and also his remembrance of Gandhi. Then he talks about freedom struggles and prominent figures like Madhan Mohan, Bankim Chatterji, Swami Vivekananda and Rabindranath Tagore. He brings out their efforts and difference in their beliefs and tries to lay foundation of new Hindu movement during the fight for Independence. He also covers Hindu Muslim conflicts from his experience and knowledge. Finally after all these topic he then ventures to finish his autobiography by talking about synthesis aspect of civilization and 3 period cycle of Indian history.

Now my honest opinion is, though the author is highly educated and well read person, everything one writes or thinks ultimately comes out in form of opinion. Nirad has made it clear in his article about how History should be approached and one thing he hated was personal opinion. But the inherent feature of expression of thought from human is his/hers perception and opinion. Thus Nirad's attempt of bringing his extensive historical knowledge and his incredible vocabulary is ultimately his perception and not fact which contradicts his rule.

Secondly Nirad made no secret of his love for European culture and it's History. He ultimately starts comparing Indian history and European History and ultimately his love for his European makes every aspect of Indian history look small which I feel is little unfair.

I really liked his thesis on synthesis of Indian civilization to be honest. So averaging out, for the entire ensemble,I have given it 3 stars.

[M Mohana]

Hello :)

Hope you all are doing really well!

And if you have not read the autobiography yet, please do!
I am sure this recommendation will change your outlook towards living life.

I am taken aback by Nirad C. Chaudhari's progress from his home town of Kishoreganj till becoming a writer in a distant country. From growing amidst a rugged town which was not developed that beautifully presents a normal specimen of how town-dwelling could be. This place becomes a heavenly abode for him and as a reader it is his description of his home town that somehow changed my outlook of the image i carried of "urban". Well !
Is urban an outlook or a structural advancement? From sharing the lives of people living in squalid conditions to lack of preventive measures for these conditions are narrated artistically. With his gradual sketch of his mind i am drawn to his mental and intellectual development. This development was caught when he was leading his life and growth in Calcutta. It is here where his observations on decaying, lack of belongingness, vanishing landmarks, urban outlook, political forces, social paradigms and changing Indian conditions came to be questioned.

However, he is simply reminded of the time he had spent in the early days and attempts to pen his association of the rural town is amusing. On the contrary, the value to the roots and native culture is quintessential. It is the Indianness that keeps calling in him. Similarly, it allows me to draw the contemporary lifestyle I am living in. Am I associated or not?

A question of belongingness is highly debatable. I am sure I will figure it out someday.

Happy reading!
Thank you

[Stephen Coates · Rating 4 out of 5]

Born in 1897 in the town of Kishoreganj in what was then British India and now Bangladesh, Chaudhuri went on to excel during his undergraduate studies at university in Calcutta and, although he failed his masters degree, went on to be a script writer for the All Indian Radio network and eventually to settle in Oxford India. Most of that, however, was outside the scope of this book which described the environment and liberal middle-class family life in which he was raised, his parents’ ancestral villages, the family’s move to Calcutta and his life until his masters degree examinations. But the book is so much more than an autobiography as he describes and reflects on the beginnings of the nationalist independence movement and then goes on to criticise a major motif of this independence movement which sought to resurrect what it perceived to be true Indian culture whereas the rule of India (as it was then incorporating what today are India, Bangladesh and Pakistan) was preceded by invasion of and rule by the Moguls and before that, by the Aryans each of which had left enduring marks on Indian political and non-political culture, hence there was no real true Indian culture to return to. He also described his abhorrence to the violent elements within this independence movement and his overall respect for the British culture while objecting to the way the British treated the Indians. The book provides an insightful portrayal of life in British-administered Bengal at the time and equally insightful description of the long term development of Indian political culture.

[Sujan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Even at the time of reading it, I felt vividly that this book was to put an indelible mark on my mind. This consciousness solidified within me mainly because with my limited reading and experience, I could relate and validate pages after pages of observations regarding many things Bangali and Indian, observations deeply shocking and unorthodox yet true and illumimating. I am also agreed to the thesis of the writer that almost all of our countrymen, educated or not so educated alike, are still unconscious of the environment they are born and raised in. I know that the time has not yet come for our fellow countrymen to see through the facades of myths surrounding themselves, but I have somewhat found a personal catharsis in the fact that there has been at least someone like the writer who could break the shackles of that diseased unconsciousness.

So, how long will it take to finally recongnize and understand the greatest minds we have ever had? Putting it another way, when the words of Bankim, Tagore, or Nirad will finally reach to the inner depths of educated Bengals, and Indians? I am not at all equipped with enough wisdom to anticipate; therefore, I should just stop myself saying that, the sooner, the better.