History of 18th September – Puri comes under British rule
Discover the intriguing events from the history of 18th September, from the British occupation of Puri and their curious role as protectors of Jagannath Temple’s treasures in 1803, to modern events like the introduction of cup noodles in 1971 and the infamous Uri attack.
Let me begin the history of 18th September, raising a cup – not of tea, but of noodles! Yes, it was on this very day in 1971 that the world was introduced to the marvel of the humble cup noodle by none other than Momofuku Ando. Now, if you’ve ever found yourself in a bit of a pickle, rummaging through the cupboards at 2 am, you’ll understand the genius of this creation. Ando noticed that the Americans were breaking their noodles in half, plopping them into paper cups, and pouring hot water over them – all while using a fork instead of chopsticks! Shocked but intrigued, Ando thought, “Why not make it easier for everyone?” And thus, the Styrofoam cup noodle was born, with its wider top and narrower bottom, designed to keep the noodles warm and make slurping them down a doddle.
History of 18th September also tells us that it was this day when the infamous Uri attack in Jammu and Kashmir took place that led to the deaths of nineteen Indian Army soldiers and all four attackers.
With this I come to the feature story from the history of 18th September.
Guardians or Opportunists? The Curious Tale of Puri’s Ratna Bhandar Under British Rule
Ironically, history often serves up the oddest of twists, and the saga of the Ratna Bhandar in Jagarnath temple Puri during the British occupation of Odisha is no exception. In fact, one might say the temple treasures were never more secure than under the watchful eye of an occupying force. Yet, if you peel back the layers of history, the opportunism of the time becomes glaringly obvious, especially when Puri was last under attack by the English in 1803.
Let’s rewind to that fateful year when the Governor-General, the Marquis of Wellesley, had sent Lieutenant Colonel Campbell of the 74th Regiment to capture Puri. As fate would have it, Campbell fell ill just before the operation. Enter Colonel Harcourt of the 12th Regiment, who stepped in to finish the job. In what can only be described as a whirlwind military manoeuvre, the entire province of Odisha fell to the East India Company in just 14 days—from the 3rd to the 18th of September 1803. Talk about efficiency!
Now, Wellesley was no fool. He was well aware of the religious significance of the Jagannath Temple, and in a rare moment of sensitivity, he issued clear orders: no plundering, no looting, and absolutely no funny business inside the temple. In a letter that practically oozed reverence for Hindu customs, he instructed his troops to treat the temple’s property as sacred and to ensure no one entered without the Brahmins’ blessing. One might say Wellesley was playing a political masterstroke, winning over hearts and minds without a shot fired in Puri.
When the British troops marched into Puri on the 18th of September, they encountered no resistance. The Marathas had scarpered, and the local populace had battened down the hatches. The troops set up camp a couple of miles from the temple, expecting trouble, but what they got was quite the opposite. On the morning of the third day, a procession of Pandas—complete with umbrellas, flags, drums, and cymbals—marched straight to the British camp. No, they weren’t staging an elaborate ambush. They were handing over the keys to the temple! According to Campbell’s rather bemused account, the Brahmins had consulted the deity Jagannath, who had, quite conveniently, declared that the English were now his chosen protectors.
Well, that must have been a right head-scratcher for the British soldiers, who were more used to muskets and bayonets than divine proclamations. Still, Campbell, showing commendable restraint, politely declined an invitation to visit the shrine, staying true to Wellesley’s orders. It seems that even in the cutthroat world of empire-building, some lines weren’t crossed.
But let’s not kid ourselves. The alliance between the British and the Pandas wasn’t all about mutual respect and admiration. No, this was a business deal, plain and simple. The Pandas, ever the opportunists, saw the writing on the wall and struck a lucrative arrangement with their new colonial overlords. Pilgrim taxes continued to be levied, and the profits were shared between the East India Company and the Pandas. Both parties were laughing all the way to the bank, while the devout pilgrims were left footing the bill.
In typical British bureaucratic fashion, several half-hearted attempts were made to regulate the temple’s management. By 1840, the British had washed their hands of the whole affair, handing over control to the Raja of Puri, while still ensuring the temple was well-endowed to cover its expenses. The pilgrim tax was abolished, but the financial exploitation of the pilgrims was far from over.
That is all from the history of 18th September. Good Bye.
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