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Kashmiri Pandit officials may have been individually gentle and intelligent; as a body, they were cruel and oppressive.

The Kashmiri Pandits referred to here are the Brahmins of the region. As individuals, they are highly refined people. However, toward the communities under their control, they behave collectively with great harshness and cruelty.

This, too, is a distorted disposition created by feudal languages.

In everyone who speaks feudal languages, this dual nature persists.

Vassal, Lord, Knight, Castle
Manor, Serf, Peasant, Tenant
Rent, Fief, Homage, Fealty
Surrender, Ransom, Crusade
Tournament, Joust, Heraldry

If this definition were translated into Malayalam, feudal language would be defined by listing words like:

King, Queen, Steward, Nair overlord, Police Sub-Inspector, Doctor, Commoner, Maid, Slave, Lorry Driver, Arrest, Obeisance, Salutation, and so on.

However, feudal language is none of these. These words represent social positions or behaviours. Behind them, certain languages operate, some of which are feudal languages. These words themselves are not feudal languages.

In society, when people in various job positions, with different age gaps in personal relationships, or with varying economic capabilities interact or refer to each other, the address term You and reference terms like He and She have different levels in many languages.

For example, in Malayalam, the word You exists in various levels: lowest you, stature-neutral you, you-sir, you-madam, highest you, and so on.

Languages with such word forms are called feudal languages. These word forms are not synonyms. Each has a distinct social or relational positioning, and they cannot be used interchangeably.

To illustrate the different human experiences provided by feudal languages and English, let’s take the word slavery.

In English, this word is Slavery.

In an English social environment, the experience of Slavery for black people was akin to receiving the refined gentleness of the English language atmosphere from the lowest rung of the Inhi👇 - Ingal ladder in African regional languages. In other words, a person who was lowest you under many rungs became stature-neutral You.

However, in South Asian languages, slavery meant dragging vibrant communities down to the lowest rung of the Inhi👇 - Ingal ladder of local feudal languages.

In other words, a person who was you-sir became lowest you.

This distinct human experience was not enabled by two different words—slavery and Slavery. Rather, it was the languages encompassing them.

South Asian employees at companies like Google and Microsoft, along with some continental Europeans, have strenuously worked to conceal the existence of the feudal language phenomenon from public attention. Some may have directly participated in this.

However, the owners of these companies or all their employees may not be aware of such conspiracies.

This itself is a feudal language phenomenon.

In any organisation operating in feudal languages, there are personal relationship links that often go unnoticed. These are often invisible networks created by word-based relationships like lowest you, highest him, elder brother, elder sister, lowest he, highest he, and so on.

Within these networks, various information, discussions, secret stories, or activities with specific intentions may exist. Each word-code route may hold specific secrets and conspiracies.

Those not entangled in these word-based relationship links will have no connection to or awareness of the activities within these invisible networks. Yet, these covert activities occur right beside them.

At the same time, such secretive personal relationship networks do not exist in English platforms without deliberate planning. This is because, in English, personal relationship links do not move through corridors formed by word-built walls.

Bard.ai concludes about feudal language as follows:


In other words, it claims that feudal language is a social structure that existed in Europe long ago.

But the reality is different. The many hardships experienced by people in countries like India today are directly caused by these languages. Feudal languages are an invisible, terrifying entity that profoundly and adversely affects the human mind and personality.

For South Asians and continental Europeans working in English-speaking nations, the spread of such information in those countries could be problematic.

However, concealing this malevolent truth does not seem beneficial. Hiding such information is akin to opening the lid of a bottle filled with toxic fumes.

In 2011, I filed a writ petition in the Kerala High Court, arguing that Malayalam is a harsh feudal language and should not, under any circumstances, be made the language of education, administration, or judicial proceedings. Granting statutory validity to this malevolent language would divide the state’s citizens into at least three distinct levels.

There was a deliberate behind-the-scenes plan to turn this writ petition into a mockery and have the High Court Chief Justice publicly dismiss it in court.

However, when the Chief Justice heard the arguments, took the matter seriously, and accepted the writ petition, every effort was made behind the scenes to ensure no media outlet reported it.

At the time, I was grappling with various personal issues and could only experience these events firsthand.

It was also a fact that many academics and high-ranking officials from Kerala had family members working in global online platforms.

Some in critical positions made significant efforts to conceal the topic of feudal language. I experienced this directly on international online platforms at the time.

The inspiration to write about these matters now came from seeing recent accounts by individuals who retired from companies like Google, sharing their work experiences.

They enjoyed an extraordinary work environment, unlike anything found in local Indian companies.

However, what they all fail to mention is that they worked in a remarkable platform sustained by an English language atmosphere.

None of them seem interested in acknowledging the historical significance of English, and thus England. Many believe the exceptional work experiences they had were due to some great mental skill or superiority within themselves.

If the language atmosphere within Google had shifted to Malayalam, Tamil, Hindi, or Telugu, that work environment would have been poisoned. However, in the US and other English-speaking nations, where an English language social atmosphere prevails, it would take time for this toxic spread to take hold.

Tippu had, unfortunately for himself, by his insolent letters to the Nizam in 1784 after the conclusion of peace with the English at Mangalore, shown that he contemplated the early subjugation of the Nizam himself.

but from an official neglect to send the order to a picquet of 150 men stationed at, the extraordinary distance of three miles, five hours were lost

This cannot be understood from England.

The fools in England might think the English rule spread worldwide solely due to the English’s great courage and valour.

In those days, Brahmins in South Asia acted as messengers. They were generally not attacked. No one obstructed their path. Moreover, they received lodging and food at Brahminic temples wherever they went.

However, they carried messages only for the exalted.

In other words, the social and linguistic status of the sender, the messenger, and the recipient was a key factor in the messaging process.

In such a malevolent region, the English East India Company established a postal department that could deliver letters even from a low-caste person.

Returning to the point.

Every organization has a pace at which things normally proceed. For example, imagine ten tasks per hour.

At this pace, efficiency issues don’t arise. A slow-moving vehicle straying one foot or ten feet off the path causes no trouble.

But in wartime conditions, tasks move at a frenetic pace—say, ten tasks per minute.

The density of actions in time increases drastically.

On a highway with vehicles speeding at 100 km/h, a vehicle drifting an inch off could cause a massive accident.

The shift from a scenario where straying ten feet is harmless to one requiring 100 km/h speed is a moment of high action density.

When soldiers are idle, whether instructions are followed or not matters little. But during a war, a small error can lead to disaster.

This is where the difference between English and feudal language systems becomes evident.

Feudal language organizations form a spider web of highest you - lowest you word-based relationships.

If action density surges unexpectedly in wartime conditions, and clear highest you - lowest you personalities are absent in each position, instructions won’t move forward.

Ideas and directives wander, seeking the right person to carry them. They don’t progress. Instructions fail to reach their destination on time.

This is a moment of high action density.

Events rush forward like a speeding train, leading to catastrophe.

Where a single word could ensure vast efficiency, a major disaster strikes.

If investigated thoroughly, the initial cause of the train accident in Odisha could likely be traced to language code errors.

This is because highest you - lowest you positions may be occupied by individuals under immense economic, social, familial, or other pressures, either suppressed or elevated.

Such words can stir intense emotions. Normally, railway operations have controls to restrain such emotional outbursts.

However, immediately after the first accident, the failure to efficiently manage other trains rushing to the same spot was where rational directives faltered, lost in confusion over who should send, carry, or receive messages.

This problem has now crept into English-speaking nations and institutions.

Feudal language speakers work in groups across various platforms in English-speaking countries today. English speakers can only see their English behaviour. They cannot see the personal relationship threads moving through feudal language words or the intricate webs of relationships within them.

Another issue with Indian Railways is the roster system of reservation.

This sows explosive seeds in the highest you - lowest you obedience-authority chain. A low-caste person entering as a junior officer quickly ascends to exalted positions.

In other words, a lowest you becomes a highest you, and a highest you becomes a lowest you.

I don’t know the full picture here.

But at critical moments, when directives must flash forward at lightning speed, these chains break.

Passengers on trains are unaware of this. The journey they enjoy is a marvel established in the 1800s by English East India Company officials in this subcontinent.

Today’s Indian officials, filmmakers, media workers, and academics call those English individuals thieves. They shed crocodile tears over human suffering in disasters, relishing the misery.

Writing concerning the prevalence of insanity in different classes, the Census Commissioner, 1891, states that “it appears from the statistics that insanity is far more prevalent among the Eurasians than among any other class..........”.

The subject seems to be one worthy of further study by those competent to deal with it.

This is genuinely connected to the terrifying ability of feudal languages to induce mental disturbances. Studying this requires a deep understanding of the various characteristics and traits of feudal languages, which cannot be gained from any academic study today.

Back then, Eurasians referred to individuals born to European men and local South Asian women.

It can be assumed that many of these individuals were of English-speaking lineage. Such people likely spoke fluent English among their fathers and their associates. This mental state would foster significant mental freedom in them.

In other words, they would possess a mindset unbound by the Inhi👇 - Ingal👆 ladder of local languages. The verbal barriers created by elevated word codes and the mental inferiority induced by lower word codes would not penetrate their minds in this language environment.

However, their mother’s family was often entirely rooted in local languages. Frequently, they belonged to the lower strata of society, standing on one of the lower rungs of the Inhi👇 - Ingal👆 ladder.

To them, this individual would be someone beneath them.

In other words, a person at the level of lowest you, lowest he, or lowest she.

The local community would also attempt to evaluate this individual based on their mother’s family’s status.

This creates a mental phenomenon absent in English.

In English settings, this individual would exhibit a grand personality and a vibrant mental state. In English, this is merely a normal mental standard.

However, when this same individual interacts with their local family or other local people in the local language, they are forcefully pressed down to the lower rungs of the Inhi👇 - Ingal👆 ladder, as if crushed.

The person existing in English is not the one present here.

This creates starkly contrasting personal relationship links through words and interactions with numerous individuals.

The mental impact of this is severe.

Words carry immense power.

If a father addresses his son as lowest you, there’s no issue. But if the son, with great composure, addresses the father as lowest you, the very concept of father in Malayalam would vanish.

If a policeman addresses a commoner as lowest you, it’s not a problem. But if a commoner addresses a policeman as lowest you, an explosion could occur.

The fact that words possess such power is still unknown to English-speaking nations.

In most parts of South Asia, there exists a latent potential for violent outbursts at any moment. Often, this remains a mere shadow, not erupting. This is because various silent precautions exist within institutions to prevent such outbursts.

Yet, explosions do occur at times. When analyzing such violent incidents, observers fail to discuss which conversational word triggered the outburst.

Instead, they cite entirely innocuous reasons.

If it’s reported that a policeman asked a man his name, and the man shouted at the policeman, the fact that the policeman pulled the trigger by using lowest you is omitted.

The report would be clearer if stated thus:

When the police constable asked this gentleman, “What’s your name?” in a lowest you form, the gentleman responded rudely to the constable.

Such a report would make things clearer to the listener.

Husband beats wife, wife beats husband, husband beats wife’s relative, wife’s relatives beat husband, neighbors escalate from a small argument to physical violence.

Sometimes, without any outburst, a student or employee commits suicide. Occasionally, a teacher, female teacher, or employer commits suicide.

Investigating these incidents through language codes could reveal which word, used in which context, caused provocation or intense mental stress.

Explanations like low marks or a superior demanding clarification lack clarity.

Yet, everyone avoids such granularly precise explanations.

The husband is highest you, the wife is lowest you. The teacher is highest him, the student is lowest you. The policeman is highest him, the commoner is lowest you.

This coding affects numerous other words in the language, maintaining a ladder-like structure in personal relationships.

Living subjected to such degrading word codes is less likely to cause issues, provided one has the mental state to endure it.

But resisting this word coding creates problems. An outburst may occur, or the individual might resort to suicide or other acts.

People often blame the mentally disturbed person who acts violently.

The student didn’t show the subservience the teacher expected. Instead, the student said, “Get lost” to the teacher. The teacher slapped the student.

A taxi driver addressed a policeman as lowest you. The blow to the driver’s face came at lightning speed. In these cases, no one blames the person who struck, because they are deemed entitled to do so.

In reality, none of them have the right to strike. The public is unaware of this.

The wife told the husband, “Get lost.” The husband beat her. This is the same offense as when a policeman or teacher strikes.

The husband’s loss of composure is the same as the policeman’s or teacher’s. Yet, today, the public only sees the husband’s violence as an offense.

The other two acts are not seen as violence.

In the past, language codes and society granted husbands the right to strike.

Now, consider if social and familial communication were entirely in English. Individuals would transform into the personality standard defined by the Indian Constitution. That elevated standard is hard to find in those whose minds operate in Indian languages.

The person in Malayalam is not the same as the one in English. The wife, husband, teacher, student, policeman, commoner, doctor, lawyer, taxi driver, and others in Malayalam are entirely different from their counterparts in English.

There are a few more things to say about this. That can be in the next writing.

The influence of names is considerable, and the discontinuance of the title of karigars will be attended with advantage.

Posts with a small salary are gladly accepted because the holders are sure of bettering themselves by bribes; how otherwise could these men live?

Next to the general corruption of morals in a heathen land, these public servants of the subordinate grades are driven to such misconduct by the miserable pay which they receive. They are notoriously ill-paid, and common justice to them, as well as to those who are at their mercy, demands a great and speedy reform in the scale of salaries. Until they are fairly paid it is impossible to expect fair service of them; though, of course, proper pay will not of itself make men honest or attentive.

Adequate pay alone will not make men honest or attentive.

Courtesy to the poor is almost unknown among the lower officials. In nothing will they oblige, except duly paid for it. The Cutcherries cannot yet be freely approached.

The Sudras in these parts, being connected with the police clerks, can get anything they like done against these poor people, who are easily cheated and oppressed.

One witness says, ‘I deposed none of those things—what further they might have written at the Police Cutcherry I am not able to say, since my statement was not read over to me. I simply affix my mark in the paper presented to me, as I was desired to do.’

There are many more peculiarities of Travancore’s officialdom and police system yet to be documented.

Readers must note that many such practices still persist in Travancore’s official and police systems today. These are not newly emerged behaviours.

However, in Malabar, such unchecked official and police conduct likely began emerging in the late 1980s.

It is noteworthy that in the Keralolpatti or origin of Keralam, the pseudohistory of Malabar current among natives, the Brahmans are said to have displaced the Nagas or snakes.

It sets forth that the first Brahmans who arrived from various places did not remain in Keralam owing to their dread of the myriads of serpents infesting the country.

This fact has an important bearing on the question as to when the Brahmans really did settle in Malabar, for Kerala is now by scholars recognised to be a dialectic (Canarese) form of the ancient name of the whole country, viz., Chera or Cheram or Keram, a name which probably still survives in Cheranad, the western portion of the Ernad taluk.

And possibly also in Cheruman (plural—Cherumakkal), the agrestic slave caste.

Thus, “chera” becomes “kera” in Canara, meaning coconut there.

I casually checked the Kannada meaning of “kera.”

Google Translate seems to cleverly obscure this.

The Kannada word “ಕೇರೆ” (pronounced “kēre”) means rat snake.

This word was used to portray Malabar as part of Travancore.

In Malabari, “chera” means rat snake, not coconut. It’s claimed to derive from Kannada’s “kera” (coconut).

Yet, nobody admits that Kannada’s “kēre” means rat snake.



“ನಾರಿಕೇಳ” (narikela) means coconut. It’s more convenient to say “chera” comes from “narikela” than to admit “chera” means snake, which would muddle things.

Kerala’s emblem features two elephants guarding the conch of Padmanabhaswamy Temple.

Malabar has no relevance in this symbol.

Elephants lack real protection in Kerala.

They’re tranquillised, driven out, chained in temple grounds, or enslaved as kumki elephants in the hills.

Will elephants need to be removed from Kerala’s emblem?

Turning British-Malabaris into Keralites feels like a step too far.

I’ve veered off track. The point was to discuss the flaws in merging Malabar with Travancore. I’ll address that in the next piece.

Note: All quotes are from Malabar Manual.

For general administrative purposes the State is divided into 31 taluks, grouped into four divisions or districts. For purposes of revenue collection, the taluks are further subdivided into smaller areas called provertis, each under a paid officer styled the provertikaran. Each division is presided over by a Diwan Peshkar and District Magistrate, equivalent to the Collector-Magistrate of a British District. A tahsildar, who is usually a second-class magistrate, is in charge of each taluk. The Peshkars form a superintending and checking agency, and are responsible for the proper and regular administration of the taluks comprising their charge. In addition to the four Peshkar magistrates, there are two other District Magistrates, one being the Commercial Agent at Alleppey and the other the Superintendent of the Cardamom Hills.

An ill-disposed Provertikaran is the very personification of oppression, injustice, bribery, and illegality; and no official in the ranks of the public service combines in a single person so many evils as are daily found in the doings of such a man.

Some Tahsildars we have known abuse all of the poorer classes who apply to them, and keep them at a distance. These men hate to see a decent dress on any man of humble origin, or the chest covered with a cloth; and such are openly reviled, their letters declined on various pretexts, and their business left undone.

They terrify ignorant complainants by a loud and threatening manner, catching at every verbal error, and threatening them with punishment as false witnesses. Witnesses are forced to sign whatever has been written by the clerks, notwithstanding protests against its accuracy, or ignorance of what has been written, on threats of worse punishment if they do not consent.

And the time of the people is wasted in attending day after day at the Cutcherries.

Insatiable greed and extraordinary cunning are displayed in the taking of bribes by the underlings; and indeed there have been times when it was said that there was scarcely an official of any grade free from this vice. Bribes are even extorted by threats of implicating the parties in charges of murder and other serious crimes, if not paid. To allow a criminal complaint to be withdrawn, cloths and money are presented to the official. In criminal cases the police naick, similarly influenced, reports the charge a factitious one. An official invites people to a feast and some domestic ceremony, and gets large presents of money, ornaments, &c.

Sometimes a judicial servant quietly takes bribes from both sides, but honestly returns that which he received from the losing party!

The village guards extort money and property on the slightest pretexts. Their demand for cloths, money and other goods have sometimes differed but little from highway robbery. In collecting provisions for travellers and officers on circuit, they often robbed the people of fowls, sheep, eggs, fruit, &c., or gave the merest nominal payment for the provisions. Bribes are taken in the evening to the house of the tax assessor, begging him kindly to charge only what is right and fair and really due to the Government. The Pilleymar (writers and clerks) thus reap a harvest of bribes. Some gumasthas and others regularly earn three or four times their fixed pay. To complain of all this unfairness, bribery, and corruption, only exposes poor and illiterate men to the getting up of false charges of the most serious character.

There’s more to write. I’ll address it in the next piece.

The subordinate officials take advantage of any exigencies to enlist forced labour for State purposes, with an indifference to the hardships they entail on the poor, approaching to utter recklessness.

The press-gang system is employed by the Granary Superintendent of Valiatory and the Nemum Police, to secure boats, and men to man them whenever required for Sirkar purposes. Every boat and every man in this parish is seized, and black mail levied from such as wish to escape this oppression.

It not unfrequently happens that the boatmen decamp; and the head villager buys off the myrmidons of the press-gang by a bribe assessed on the whole village, to escape the grudge that would otherwise inevitably follow in the shape of fines and imprisonments.

The rowers often complain of suffering from impressment for travellers, the Beach Superintendent, one of their own class appointed by the Sirkar, taking bribes from those who are better off and strong in body, and often seizing the poor, the aged, or boys, beating those who attempt to flee to avoid the inconvenience.

Gratuitous service is demanded of work people and bandymen; if refused, charges are got up against them; or they are over punished on some real charge.

The homeowner addresses me as “nee” or “edi.” Sometimes, they twist my ear. I’m made to sit and sleep on the floor. I’m given cheap plates and low-quality food, while the family eats well. I can’t enter through the front door, only the kitchen door. I get a meagre wage. I wear their old clothes. They use a Western toilet; I use a dirty Indian one.

An average Indian homeowner might ask, “What’s the issue?” This is India’s social order and normal behaviour.

Moreover, the worker is a local, speaking the same language. Giving them higher status or comforts might make them rebellious.

But an English person would see substance in this complaint, though they might not fully understand it.

I’m not saying they’d act against it, but such a social condition is the opposite of English society. People here are entirely different from English individuals.

The English Company’s abolition of slavery in South Asia likely disrupted locals’ comfortable lives. This must be clearly understood too.

The heads of the respective castes also paid an annual sum for their dignity.

Bribes and pecuniary gratifications were everywhere expected, and nowhere forbidden.

The ruling power and subordinate officials were ever ready to snatch from the people as much as possible. When a cruel ruler was on the throne, the country suffered much; when a benevolent one, it gained little.

These demands were of the most uncertain character, involved a good deal of oppression and vexation, and interfered with the freedom which industry of all kinds is entitled to.

The small nominal sums that were in some cases allowed for work did not reach the labourer’s hands, the underlings keeping what they could for themselves, or to bribe their superiors to continue them in employment, while the people dared not complain, lest countercharges be brought against the complainant, and himself condemned as a malefactor, imprisoned, or perhaps, tortured to death.

But the public benefit is the farthest thing from the thoughts of the peons, gumasthas, and other assistants, and even some of the Tahsildars. General corruption, incapacity, and dense ignorance of their duty, cruelty and bribery, as far as they dare to indulge in these, still prevail. Only personal interests and private profit are considered by many.

Unconscionable delays occur in attending to business, so that suitors are tired out and it becomes not worth their while to continue. One great resort of some officials is to leave letters unanswered, so that people get tired out on smaller matters. In attendance on the public offices and courts, witnesses have been compelled frequently to trudge over roads and kept waiting for days, sometimes hungry, faint and sick, while their private affairs go to ruin.

Tax receipts are written in a most indefinite manner, without specifying the particular property for which the tax is paid: the people believe this is done to keep the payer in the power of the Sirkar clerks.

Common sense would surely require some definition, name, or number of the particular property referred to in such receipts.

Receipts are also given to persons who cannot read, for sums less than those actually paid.

But the Provertikaran, tax collector, and clerks ask four or six times the proper rate, or profess to measure the land, and say it is much greater in extent than it really is. The Pillai will say, ‘Give me a rupee, and I will make the tax light for you.’

The village Provertikaran and others come and take nearly all the produce, and thus dishearten these poor people from rice cultivation. They say they would give a tenth or two tenths willingly; but at present they cannot tell what the rules are, or how to calculate the government dues, and whether what they pay goes to the government or to the servants. ‘The Government,’ said an official who understands the matter, ‘do not get an eighth of what is collected by the tax-gatherers for Malavaram.’

Readers must understand that officials are “saar,” while common people are “nee.” While enjoying this linguistic beauty, remember you can’t question officials. Doing so is sheer defiance. That’s the mesmerising charm of Malayalam!

When looking with admiration at the noble examples of Indian architecture and engineering — temples, forts, public buildings — the first thought that sometimes occurs to us is of the vast amount of misery and expenditure of human life imposed on the multitudes, as in Egypt, who did the unskilled labour.

Two points about Travancore come to mind.

First, its enslaved communities.

Second, its police system.

The plural “communities” indicates that slavery wasn’t limited to one group, nor was it always about enslaving random commoners—though that may have happened occasionally.

Travancore’s enslaved groups seem to have been Pariahs and Pulayas, with others like Kuravan, Ulladan, Pullan, and Vedan also at the lowest rung.

However, Pariahs and Pulayas appear to have endured the most brutal, animal-like slavery. I’m not certain of this.

In the 1880s, Travancore reportedly had 63,688 Pariahs and 188,916 Pulayas. In Malabar, some may have been called Cherumar, though this isn’t certain.

With British-Malabar’s abolition of slavery, English rule introduced schemes to uplift Cherumar socially. I won’t delve into those now.

In South Malabar, the most significant change for Cherumar was their conversion to Islam, sparking social unrest in two taluks from the 1830s, as previously discussed.

The English East India Company barred Christian missionary activity in British-India, so Malabar’s enslaved didn’t convert to Christianity.

I can’t recall if I’ve written about Travancore’s slavery earlier, but I likely have.

The elite viewed these people like filthy livestock.

Seeing, looking at, or being in their gaze was deeply unsettling for the elite.

Yet, if Travancore had raised an army from these people, it could have easily conquered nearby kingdoms.

When Hyder Ali unleashed his attack on Malabar, its enslaved communities ran rampant, storming Nair and upper-caste homes.

Fearing this, upper castes fled. Their Nair guards refused to confront these lower individuals, fleeing too.

Clashing with them would taint one’s words and imagination, dissolving their identity.

But in Travancore, such an army would have driven others away. Imagine an army of scavengers descending.

Consider the issue.

In England and other English countries, cleaning toilets or handling nightsoil has long existed, but it doesn’t taint a person, their identity, or their family in word codes.

In South Asia’s feudal languages, however, work affects “You,” “He,” “She,” and countless related words.

This is why public toilets in Indian-dominated areas of the US likely stink now. I won’t pursue that topic.

YouTube videos today discuss overcoming hardships, misfortune, or adversity.

In England, individuals may face setbacks—financial ruin or loss—but these don’t permanently trap them or their families in degradation.

They can overcome adversity and regain happiness.

Such vicissitudes don’t socially shackle a person or their family.

In South Asia, it’s different. If you’re tainted by word codes, it’s a serious problem.

In Kerala today, this is less of an issue. A stint in the Gulf often brings wealth, whitewashing one’s identity.

In Travancore, social oppression was permanent. No mental fortitude could liberate you, even over centuries.

The local language dictates subservience to those above and suppression of those below. Those at the bottom of the “inhi👇-ingal👆” ladder can only grovel upward.

They have no one below to suppress.

Thus, the elite realise those at the bottom are the most dangerous.

The oppressed, crushed below, harbour a latent desire to climb and pull down those above.

This ambition must never be given a chance. Relentless enforcement of the impossibility of liberation from slavery ensures the elite’s peace.

The elite’s cruel mindset hides behind smiling words and displays of affection.

A similar venom exists in the oppressed. They know their word codes can wield the venom of a fierce cobra.

No touch is needed—just calling an elite by a bare name cuts like a sickle.

The elite deny them access to higher things. So, given a chance, the oppressed touch what’s elite.

If they unleash negativity, positive value embeds in their identity’s software, a tangible sensation.

In feudal languages, interactions between the highest and lowest are always laced with two opposing forms of cruelty.

Having said this, I’ll detail the torments Travancore’s lower communities faced from officials in the next piece.

No description can produce an adequate impression of the tyranny, corruption and abuses of the system, full of activity and energy in everything mischievous, oppressive and infamous, but slow and dilatory to effect any purpose of humanity, mercy and justice. This body of public officers, united with each other on fixed principles of combination and mutual support, resented a complaint against one of their number, as an attack upon the whole.

The district officials shall not apply fetters, chains, and manacles to those ryots who are found entangled in any criminal charge.

When petitioners appear before the district cutcherry, with their complaints, their cases shall be decided reasonably so as to be concurred in by public opinion but no petitioner shall be detained to his inconvenience and put to expense for feeding himself, pending the settlement of his case; that such cases as could be decided soon shall be settled then and there, and the parties dismissed. But such cases as would require time to settle shall be decided within eight days, and if any petitioner is detained before the district cutcherry beyond eight days, he shall be fed at the expense of the district officer.

When a female petitioner comes before the district cutcherry, her complaint shall be heard and settled at once and on no account shall a female be detained for a night.

That not one of the subjects (ryots) should be oppressed, by placing him in restraint, without allowing him even to attend the calls of nature, or making him stand within a given line in a stooping posture, putting a stone on his back or keeping him in water or under the burning sun or confining him under starvation, neither shall he be subjected to any sort of disgrace.

The Rajah, therefore, imposed no restraint on their rapacity.

This social atmosphere is slowly growing in India today, though wealthier Keralites may not feel it.

Pariahs and Pulayas, 23% of Travancore’s population, could have seized the kingdom if organized.

Other lower castes existed too. Their common flaw is their language, coded to degrade individuals with “You,” “He,” “She,” and hundreds of related words, while exalting oppressors similarly.

The oppressed seek to crush those below them.

Now, let’s examine how Travancore’s officials treated lower castes.

That this brutality went unnoticed by others in Travancore may seem surprising.

Yet, this mirrors ordinary Indians today, who tolerate no other commoner, demanding police “saars” or official “madams” crush “avan” or “aval.”

The jealous eye with which any attempt to raise the slaves would be viewed by the officials.

There was sufficient in the affair to excite the strong caste prejudice of the scribe who took down the evidence; and the opportunity for spicing it with extravagant statements, in order, perhaps, to supply at least some grounds that might seem prima facie to justify the prisoner’s commitment, was not to be lost when impunity was secure and they could be subjected to imprisonment pending their trial and acquittal if not found guilty.

The Tahsildars also shall give the matter special attention; and for the future, inquiries shall be made without unnecessary delay into the truth of charges brought against the low-castes, such as Pulayans, Pariahs, and Coravans, &c.; inquiries shall also be made to ascertain in whose employ they are; and should it be found that the charge is true and should be accepted, or on the other hand that it is false, they shall file, investigate, and decide according to law and in obedience to this Circular Order.

Peons receive petitions or papers from Pulayars with unconcealed abhorrence, ordering them to lay them on the ground.

One kindly official whom I saw there took great credit to himself for having ventured to propose that witnesses or suitors of low caste should be allowed to come up quite close to the window on the outside, and that a verandah should even be erected for their protection from sun and rain.

An utter want of humanity in the treatment of low-caste prisoners is not uncommon amongst the peons and local officers, embezzling the allowance for the prisoners’ food, by which some have been actually starved to death.

Various other evils prevailed, in the use of long and heavy iron fetters and chains, wooden stocks and instruments of torture, the confinement of debtors and other defaulters or persons on trial, along with convicted criminals, and of men with women, and the detention of accused persons in other than the legal and suitable places of confinement.

While public attention was thus directed to Travancore and the abuses in its administration by Newspaper articles, the London Missionaries in the State joined together and presented in July 1855 several memorials to the Madras Government on behalf of the Native Christian converts who, they said, had of late suffered heavily having entirely failed to get any redress to their grievances.

They also set forth in bold terms that corruption, oppression and extortion were openly practised by the Government officials with the connivance of the Resident General Cullen, and that inefficiency and maladministration were the order of the day. The police were said to be a tremendous engine for iniquity and oppression. Prisoners were confined for indefinite terms without investigation, and regulations were systematically set aside.

The most barbarous treatment in prison prevailed; torture was practised and robbery was rampant. The character of high officials was disgraceful. Convicted criminals and notoriously incompetent men were appointed to high offices.

Matters could not be presented in a worse light, and the Madras Government immediately called upon General Cullen to fully investigate and report on the various allegations set forth in the memorials.

He thereupon submitted an elaborate report disproving all of them and supporting the Dewan and his administration.

The Government of Madras were not satisfied, and on the Missionaries again pressing their case upon them desired further explanations from the Resident.

While matters stood thus, the Madras Government received numerous petitions from the native inhabitants also, corroborating the grave charges already brought against the administration.

They therefore wished to investigate the charges by means of a Commission and accordingly wrote to the Government of India recommending the same.

But the Governor-General Lord Dalhousie disapproved of the proposal for an enquiry as being opposed to the tenor of the Treaty of 1805 and instructed the Government of Madras under the ninth article of the Treaty to give to the Rajah “a formal and forcible expression of the sentiments of the British Government on the abuses which appeared to prevail with suitable advice and warning”.

Governor-General Lord Dalhousie rejected the commission, citing the 1805 Treaty, but instructed Madras to formally convey British concerns, advice, and warnings to the Rajah under the treaty’s ninth article.

Travancore wasn’t part of British-India but a protected kingdom. Indian Civil Service officers from England or Britain often didn’t grasp this. While Travancore might comply with India’s requests, their legal right was questionable.

In 1855, South Malabar’s lower castes surged into Islam, leveraging British-India’s legal and police systems to curb local elite power.

In Travancore, this didn’t happen, but London Missionary Society missionaries fought tirelessly for the enslaved’s lives and dignity.

Recall when a London Missionary Society deputation visited Travancore, witnessing lower castes joyfully dancing in Quilon, Trevandrum, Pareychaley, Neyoor, and Nagercoil to welcome them.

These visitors could return to England, but unleashing the lower castes would disrupt Travancore’s other communities. The region’s insecurity wasn’t erased by dismantling caste barriers. As explained earlier, it created a confrontation between lower and upper groups in language codes.

This same dynamic unfolded in South Malabar.

They are as fair as the high-caste Hindus, the women frequently beautiful.

Sudras do not deem themselves polluted by contact with these respectable and independent people, while they keep Chogans at a distance for fear of defilement.

The services required furnished occasion for continual annoyance and exactions, men being seized by the officials to carry cardamoms from the hills to the boats without pay; and if they hid themselves, as was natural, the women were caught, beaten, locked up, kept exposed to the sun and the pouring rain, and all sorts of indignities were inflicted.

They also had to complain of some of their cows being killed, others stolen by the tax gatherers, so far from the central authority; and worse than all, some had been beaten and expelled from lands which their forefathers’ sweat had bedewed for years untold.

The Chogans, however, consider themselves superior to the Arayans.

A letter of warning was accordingly issued by Lord Harris on the 21st November 1855, calling the serious attention of His Highness to the manifold abuses then prevalent in Travancore and advising him to avert the impending calamity by an enlightened policy and timely and judicious reforms.

Cases are known in which slaves have been blinded by lime cast into their eyes. The teeth of one were extracted by his master as a punishment for eating his sugar cane.

Slaves were blinded with lime or had teeth pulled for minor acts like eating sugarcane.

We soon discovered that the agent of our Christian land, although a Scotchman attached as he said to the Church of England and her services, was much opposed to missionary effort, and more fearful than were the Brahmins respecting the effects of evangelical religion...

General Cullen had completely identified himself with the interests of the people and the State.

But cases of complaint rarely succeeded in those days, as the subordinate magistracy were so deeply prejudiced and naturally partial to their own intimates and caste connections.

Even the Syrian Christians were sometimes most cruel in their treatment of their slaves.

Syrian Christians, barred from official roles except briefly under Col. Munro, were socially unrestricted, owning land and slaves. Their ascent to high posts under Munro caused temple-related issues, as they couldn’t enter temples, a key state function.

Syrian Christians likely opposed the missionaries’ efforts, viewing the upliftment of their slaves as akin to turning servants into masters.

Among lower-caste Christians, diverse groups like Pulayas, Pariahs, and higher-ranking Ezhavas created tensions. Ezhava Christians sometimes barred Pulaya and Pariah Christians from their churches. Nair, Ambalavasi, and Brahmin women, constrained by social restrictions, joined Christianity, but some upper-caste converts clung to their caste superiority.

Travancore’s upper castes included varying social strata, some impoverished. Their traditional kudumi hairstyle caused issues among lower-caste Christians, clashing with efforts to establish equality through words like “nee,” “avan,” or “aval.”

Missionaries likely saw all these groups as equal humans, but the lower castes didn’t share this view. It took decades for them to erase internal caste distinctions and ensure others did too.

Today, this lower-caste Christian history is nearly erased. Many claim to be Syrian Christians, tied to St. Thomas’s 2,000-year-old Malabar church, avoiding mention of pre-British slavery.

“Slavery? What slavery? That was in the US and Europe, wasn’t it?”

Admitting historical realities risks tainting their identity in language codes. In contrast, African Americans openly claim descent from enslaved people without shame, a stark contrast when viewed through a Malayalam lens.

By far the most important and fertile reform recently effected is the withdrawal from the Magistracy and Revenue Officials of their police functions, and the organization of a regular Police force after the British Indian Pattern, and in accordance with more enlightened and modern views of political economy than had previously prevailed.

The Police force lately organized are as yet quite new to their duties, and can scarcely be expected to work satisfactorily till better trained and brought under thorough discipline. Indeed, it will require a firm hand, strict supervision, careful inquiry into complaints, and complete and equitable representation in the force of all classes of the population to see that they do not establish a system of general vexation and oppression, and become a terror to the poor people in out of-the-way places. The power of the Indian police has too often been used to gratify petty spite, and for motives of revenge and cupidity.

An oppressive police, which has hitherto been the rule in Travancore, is a thousand times more baneful than an inefficient one; and the new body will be tempted to incessant interference with the liberty of the subject through ignorance of the public rights, and to display their diligence and authority.

Dacoits and marauders of the worst stamp scoured the country by hundreds; but these were less feared by the people than the so-called Police. In short, Travancore was the veriest den of misrule, lawlessness, and callous tyranny of the worst description.

Some seriously doubt whether any recent ‘reforms’ have as yet touched the seat of the disease, the magistracy and revenue officials being, with certain praiseworthy exceptions, incapable, uneducated, and lazy; the police untrained; the subordinate judicial officers conducting business loosely and negligently, and requiring incessant supervision and frequent warning from the Sadr Court, as seen by their “Select Decisions and Reports”; and the Bar still to a great extent incompetent and promotive of unnecessary or unjust litigation.

Many doubted reforms addressed systemic flaws. Magistrates and revenue officials were largely incompetent, uneducated, and lazy; police untrained; lower courts negligent, needing constant oversight; and lawyers mostly inept, fostering frivolous lawsuits.

Don’t misread this as suggesting modern Indian education produces better police. Mateer’s envisioned education was unrelated to India’s current system.

Notably, Malabar’s meticulously crafted British administration was subsumed into Travancore’s chaotic system in 1956, obliterating its efficiency and traditions when Kerala was formed. Local politicians, ignorant of Malabar’s administrative brilliance, fueled by hollow equality slogans, facilitated this through emotionally charged rhetoric. Ordinary Malabaris were unaware of the consequences.

Two major Travancore social movements relentlessly worked to subsume Malabar, a topic for later.

Next, I plan to briefly discuss British-India’s police system.

The Supreme Government directed that the Raja should be put upon his trial for murder, but it was not easy to bring this about, for the Raja was well guarded by five hundred well armed Nayars from Wynad.

Person arrested not to be detained more than twenty-four hours: No police officer shall detain in custody a person arrested without warrant for a longer period than under all the circumstances of the case is reasonable, and such period shall not, in the absence of a special order...

This and other restrictions were imposed on police, as, despite being in British-India, officers often behaved like Travancore’s Nair overlords. Travancore had no such controls, but in British-India, senior officers didn’t tolerate subordinates’ excesses.

British-India aimed to foster social peace and rule of law through cultural and mental growth, unlike Travancore, where police suppressed people to enforce primitive traditions via fear, even nailing suspects to trees. In local languages, fear ensures obedience—without a teacher’s stick, children won’t line up for a bus.

In English, people queue not from fear but because it’s the easiest, most convenient method. Mutual compromise in English feels rewarding, unlike in feudal languages.

Army officers have legal immunity for their actions. There can be no prosecution, suit or any other legal proceeding against anyone acting under that law. Nor is the government's judgment on why an area is found to be disturbed subject to judicial review.

Much could be said here, but I’ll hold off. The Hindi regime’s erasure of British rule was significant, but ousting it today wouldn’t restore English governance—a worrying prospect.

English-speaking nations may find Arabic culture among the most compatible. However, speaking Arabic while retaining a feudal mindset, like Malayalam’s, creates a facade of civility masking rigidity.

Post-World War II, English nations preferred aligning with feudal-language nation leaders for several reasons: many English citizens lack linguistic chauvinism; feudal leaders exude charismatic authority; and they offer unmatched hospitality. For instance, post-WWII Japan feared American troops would exploit elite women, a misconception rooted in Japan’s own military policy of using captured women, embraced by Japanese society. English-speaking troops, however, faced punishment for such acts, as ordinary citizens address officers as “you,” enabling fearless questioning.

Japan’s Recreation and Amusement Association recruited ordinary women to serve American troops, sparing elite women, framed as patriotic duty. Thousands joined enthusiastically, an experience unimaginable in English or likely Arabic nations.

Whether Hebrew is feudal is unclear, but for Hebrews and Arabs to coexist, their language codes need careful examination. Each language assigns unique statuses to individuals, relationships, and behaviors. Translating a person’s status across languages can shift their position dramatically—elevating, diminishing, or skewing it.

Without understanding this, nation-building risks plunging societies into prolonged suffering.

During 1935–36, the Dewan appointed a new Public Service Commissioner for the first time in Travancore for recruitment into the civil services of the state, without caste and religious prejudices.

I have no information on the nature of the Public Service Exam established in Travancore in 1936.

However, it appears that appointments to high-ranking and clerk positions were made based on the preferences of the elite.

Clerks, through promotions, likely joined positions such as Sub-Registrar or District Registrar in the usual course.

It seems that, for a considerable time, the Inspector General of Registration was directly appointed by the Travancore king.

Similarly, police peons might have been promoted to Sub-Inspector or higher ranks. Nevertheless, the elite likely appointed individuals directly to such positions as well.

It appears that the Public Service Commission (PSC) began functioning in Travancore from 1936.

However, when CPS was appointed as a Sub-Registrar in Travancore in 1970, it was evident that there was no provision for direct recruitment to the Sub-Registrar post.

Consequently, the higher echelons of the Registration Department were dominated by relatively young, direct-recruit, English-speaking officers from Malabar.

At that time, the Registration Department hierarchy consisted of Sub-Registrars, District Registrars above them, and a single Inspector General of Registration at the top.

Since there was no sales tax department—a form of extortion—in India (British-India), the Registration Department held significant importance. Registration fees and stamp paper values generated substantial revenue for the Indian government and presidency governments. The department operated with few officials and modest salaries.

When CPS joined as a Sub-Registrar in 1953, the registration fee was one per cent, and stamp paper was eight per cent. Today, the registration fee is two per cent.

The influx of young, English-speaking officers from Malabar, who secured all the high-ranking positions, must have felt like a blow to the clerks of Travancore.

It seems there were foolish remarks in Travancore about how things were done in Malabar (British-Malabar), claiming that its people were fools, mostly uneducated, and barely proficient in Malayalam.

However, no loose talk in Travancore could have anticipated the arrival of a formidable cadre of English-speaking officers from Malabar, who would infiltrate the region.

In Travancore, it seems the dream of promotion for clerks in many government departments was extinguished.

Related discussions likely occurred daily. This came to my attention in Quilon, when CPS was a District Registrar. I believe I overheard clerks conversing at home.

There was no possibility of promotion. Various strategies were being considered.

Above the District Registrar was the Inspector General (IG), a post awarded to one of the District Registrars. Upon his retirement, another District Registrar would take it. Most District Registrars were Malabar officials.

This offered no benefit to clerks, as all posts in the IG’s office were already filled.

If a new post were created, along with additional related positions, it could bring light to the lives of some clerks.

Over the years, it seems the District Registrar post was split into two: District Registrar (General) and District Registrar (Chitties). Each had distinct roles, with Senior Superintendents, Junior Superintendents, Head Clerks, Upper Division Clerks, Lower Division Clerks, and peons.

I lack precise details on this.

However, I can share a clearer incident.

The District Registrar reports to the IG. Creating a post between these two could bring fulfilment to many.

I omitted earlier that, in such covert deliberations, when officials made decisions, government employee unions would meet the minister to finalise matters.

For the minister, the approach was, “What do you want? Just do it.”

It seems the ministers of this pseudo-India lacked the seriousness of British-India’s administration.

Public leaders should strive to protect the public’s interests.

However, the leaders of the new state seemed only interested in pleasing the union leaders of government employees standing by them.

Thus, three Zonal Inspector posts were created under the Inspector General: one in Calicut, one in Cochin, and one in Trivandrum.

Each post came with a dedicated office, a Tempo Trax vehicle, a phone, a Senior Superintendent, a Junior Superintendent, a Head Clerk, Upper Division Clerk, Lower Division Clerk, driver, and peon.

What was their work?

It seems only officials immersed in busy roles feel loyalty to their salaries. Hence, new, non-existent tasks were likely invented.

Until then, District Registrars conducted inspections at Sub-Registrar offices, with occasional visits by the Inspector General.

Now, Sub-Registrars would also face inspections by Zonal Inspectors.

There is much more to say on this, but I am trying to avoid digressing.

The Zonal Inspectors’ offices likely issued various directives and demanded reports, ensuring everyone felt a sense of accomplishment.

There was a perception that the Zonal Inspector title lacked respect in public and government forums.

One day, I overheard officials discussing this.

One said, “The term Zonal Inspector sounds like the old ‘Toilet Inspector.’ The name needs to change.”

In India (British-India), the English administration placed great emphasis on maintaining cleanliness and hygiene in public and private spaces.

Sanitary Inspectors were appointed to check the cleanliness of toilets in public places, homes, and other inhabited areas.

Though their work was serious, in local languages, their role was mockingly called “Toilet Inspector,” tarnishing its reputation.

Even today, this role exists, but its name has changed from Sanitary Inspector.

The discussion I overheard bore fruit within months. The Zonal Inspector title was replaced with Deputy Inspector General of Registration.

Meanwhile, it seems another official post was created, though I cannot recall precisely.

An Assistant Inspector General of Registration was established directly under the Inspector General.

This new post was given to a District Registrar. It was not a promotion but merely a new title at the same level.

I heard this greatly benefited some individuals who joined as clerks and were nearing retirement as District Registrars.

They could never have reached the Inspector General post. However, with this, many retired as Assistant Inspector Generals. This post likely saw intense competition.

Some retirees claimed in public and private forums that they retired as Inspector General or just below it.

Parallel to these events, in other government departments, many who joined as clerks became Deputy Directors or Assistant Directors, serving the state with satisfaction.

Taluk-level officials transformed into Assistant Directors. The Taluk Officer post became Assistant Director.

District-level posts became Deputy Director.

In departments like State Excise, titles like Deputy Commissioner and Assistant Commissioner exist, though I am unaware of their original names.

Most government departments have high-ranking IAS and IPS posts like Director, Commissioner, and Joint Commissioner.

However, much lower-ranking officials hold titles like Deputy Commissioner or Deputy Director, which seems to mislead the public.

The craving for grandiose titles stems from feudal languages. In English, there is no need for such fearsome-sounding official titles.

When I worked in Saar’s homeland, I thoroughly taught everyone in the office Travancore’s customs.

This implies that Travancore’s “Saar” address and the officials’ entitlement to bribes were successfully propagated in some Malabar offices.

The “Saar” address was believed to remove communication barriers in Malabari, which may be true.

However, English speakers did not experience such barriers.

In Travancore, officials typically referred to common people using “avan” (lowest he) or “aval” (lowest she), occasionally using “ayaal” (middle-level he/she).

Senior officials were addressed as “Saar,” “adheham” (highest he), or “avaru” (highest he/she). Suggesting that a commoner be addressed as “adheham” or “avaru” would be seen by both officials and the public as a sign of mental illness.

In Malabar, when speaking Malabari, similar issues may have existed. In English, however, no such problem arose.

In the previous piece, I mentioned how a clerk promoted to Sub-Registrar addressed older clerks.

Relatedly, by the time a clerk becomes a Sub-Registrar, they are likely 45 or 50 years old. Other office staff would typically be younger.

In Trivandrum, I clearly observed the incompetence, lack of personality, and ignorance of ministers and MLAs.

In terms of physical presence and charisma, politicians had ten times the personality of an average official.

In British-India, politicians were highly proficient in English. Post-1947 Kerala politicians, however, often lacked such proficiency, and even those who had it seemed reluctant to use it.

It seems there was a rule that when MLAs or public leaders visited an office, senior officials had to offer seating and show due respect in conversation.

Yet, I understood that public leaders lacked personality and confidence before officials.

Officials believed they were the government and that other leaders could betray a public leader. Ministers seen today might not be seen tomorrow, but officials endured for years.

Many public leaders lacked the courage to address officials as “ningal” (you). This may not apply to revolutionary party members, who had disciplined cadres.

The Registration IG often had discussions at the minister’s office. The Taxes Minister then, a short man who later became Chief Minister and has since passed away, addressed the Registration IG not as “ningal” but as “IG” in places where “you” was appropriate.

This suggests most ministers lacked the courage to address IAS or IPS officers as “ningal.” Conversations proceeded as “Chief Secretary, do this” or “DGP, do that.”

Politicians with strong political footing may not have been hindered by this mental limitation.

The Registration IG addressed the minister as “Minister,” saying things like, “If that is Minister’s opinion, we can do it.”

This seems to have been how high-level discussions occurred then. Revolutionary party members, with their strong footing, likely addressed officials as “ningal” and might even use abusive language if needed.

In Malayalam, “ningal” is a word many hesitate to use, as evident in numerous YouTube discussion videos.

In Malabari, however, “ningal” was a significant word, preferred by many for address.

When individuals from different institutions discuss serious matters in Malayalam, this issue often becomes a major obstacle and difficulty.

At subtle points in the discussion’s path, blunders pile up like a heap.