Should anyone own it?

Published in 1961, noted historian E H Carr’s monumental What is History? unveiled crucial understanding of history that remains relevant over time. The function of history is a continuous process of interaction between the historian and his facts, an unending dialogue between the past and the present. He further stressed that the role of the historian should neither suffer nor history be made to lose its fascination. Much has changed about history and historiography since then, it ignites fierce debate and contests between the state and historians on how it is produced and institutionalized. Who Owns the Past? offers a fraught guide between social history of historians and the politics of writing history.

In a chronological span starting in the 1870s when Sir Syed Ahmad Khan raised objections to a history textbook, Shaan Kashyap takes stock of how history writing has been contested and imagined for next 150 years, till 2020. Each major event in history is viewed with a change in perspective, as history goes through revision and re-examination. Did well-respected historians not point out that ‘the destruction of temples was not necessarily on account of religious bigotry, but also due to political rivalry’? Interpretation of such events through rationalist lens may not concur with the prevailing majoritarian reality of the time. Does it mean that writing about the past must confirm to the lived social and political reality?

Should history writing be seen as a form of storytelling that may appeal to the majority? In principle, it should not. Since few countries inhabit their past as turbulently as India, a medieval mosque and even a dead emperor are the topic of intense national argument all across. More than the professional historians, it is a section of the public, religious movements and dominant politician who are essential historians who are re-writing this version of history. Social media spreads it across, leaving the general public wondering ‘who owns the past?’

Spread across ten chapters, this is an absorbing book on the sociology of power struggles that defines the present at the cost of the past. Kashyap traces the intellectual battles that have shaped it and examines how textbooks are crafted, how institutions legitimize change, and how political ideology leaves its imprint on these stories. Insightful but provocative, it raises an important question: if the past is constantly under seize, what does that mean for our future?

In a society where politics constantly reshapes history, there are uncomfortable questions raised  on the role of historians. History does not belong only to historians but seems as much or more ownership by the public who makes nearly everyone within this discipline uncomfortable. Kashyap doesn’t hesitate to admit that ‘history writing cannot be left to trained historians alone’. Many prominent historians, from Jadunath Sarkar to Ramachandra Guha, were never trained as one. In such a situation, more than a discipline history is a world view.

Who Owns the Past? is a reflective question on historical authority and on what grounds that authority gets exercised. History is neither an inheritance to be owned nor a weapon to be used for getting across an argument. Only historians can resolve historical challenges. For instance, to get a sense of the man behind the bigot emperor, historian Munis D. Faruqui has cut across many distortions in the long prevailing narrative to recreate secular image of Aurangzeb. Not without reason, the sixth Mughal Emperor ruled for nearly half a century.

While the book traces the evolution of historical writing across nearly a century-and-a-half, its deeper interest lies in ensuring that the historians should not suffer on account of it (history) becoming a public vocation. As it seems, the relationship between historians and political power is waning. Since history is invariably used as a tool by the government to trigger empathy towards its ideological predisposition, there are concerns about historian’s vulnerability as scholar in the public arena. Can the historian be left to fend for his/her position?

With history having escaped the classroom and entered mass politics, a new era has dawned on professional historians in which they are gradually losing their academic authority. When every ideological camp seeks possession of the past, Who Owns the Past? wonders if history is an inheritance to be owned.

Who owns the past?
by Shaan Kashyap
Vintage/Penguin RandomHouse, New Delhi
Extent: 390, Price: Rs. 799.

Medieval history is my interest and passion. It helps learn about how the past relates with the present. 

Search for identity

Facing the harsh realities of the chaotic history during the long-drawn Bangladesh Liberation War, one story resonated that had more real facts than fiction in an uncertain life of a   refugee called Kulbhushan. Lost in a maze of memories, the refugee sought an identity by adopting various names such as Bhushan Chacha, Kulbhushan Jain and Gopal Chandra Das. Hailing from Kushtia, in the East Pakistan, he dropped ‘Kul’ from his name to marry a Bengali woman in then Calcutta. The act of reinventing name was questioned by elders in the family: “Did the bride side change their ancestral name?”

Sahitya Akademi Award–winning author Alka Saraogi, explores these questions in Register me as Kulbhushan: could reinvention of name help reclaim identity in a new nation? Set in the historic city of Calcutta (now Kolkata), the novel captures the period when survival often demanded reinvention of identity. At this time when identity means only an official proof, reinvention of name without any particular record runs the risk of identity. It is one man’s determination to be officially recognized that becomes a moving reflection on identity as something shaped by borders and bureaucracy. 

It is a novel on the trauma of partition, a deeply observed epic of exile and the fundamental human desire to belong. The protagonist moves through alien space with grace and humility as a refugee. The idea of forgetting the immediate past worked in his favor for sailing through the daily ordeal of existence. Erasing time gone bye worked as a means of surviving trauma. By punching the button of forgetting - a technique he learnt from his childhood friend - he could survive the suffocating streets and the drudgery of the family.

Register me as Kulbhushan is the story of a refugee, who through self-awareness helps reader capture a nuanced portrayal of the fractures in society. With that being the case, one wonders if there was truly any place that a refugee could call home. Be it the partition of Punjab or Bengal, scars of communal violence have made permanent place in painful memories. Partition is more than the reallocation of a nation-state territory but a displacement of people from homeland and history. It is a mental phenomenon that has serious implications on the refugee. 

Eight months may seem a long time since Kulbhushan came from Kushtia, but wasn’t sure where he was supposed to rest his long legs each night. The travel through the inhospitable dense forests of Dandakaranya added to his learnings. Ever since he alighted at Sealdah, refugees were sleeping on the floor with dirty sheets spread out underneath their legs. On his way through the crowd, he was assaulted by the stench of unwashed bodies, piles of refuse and a roaring heaving clamor everywhere he looked. It was quite a common sight all through.

The novel gives multiple eyes to see the world. Within the main story there are many small stories, much it may seem like a monologue or an autobiography. But it could easily be called a part war story or a communal fiasco. The novel’s major Muslim character, Mohammad Islam, is long blamed by Kulbhushan as the person whose threat letter that caused his exile. Embedded in the novel is the story of displaced from their country due to race and caste. Register me as Kulbhushan is a meditation on lie and truth and beauty and ugliness prevailing in a society. 

Alka Saraogi has evolved an engaging narrative style that integrates fact with fiction. The characters carry stories within stories. John Vater, who is splendid with his translation, thinks that the novel is passed on as anecdotes of personal experiences. It eventually turns out to be tale of the misery of a refugee who searches for real identity within double identity of existence in a region that has historically been one.  

Register me as Kulbhushan
by Alka Saraogi 
Translated by John Vater
Penguin, New Delhi
Extent: 445 pages. Price: Rs. 599.

First published in the Hindu, Aug 29, 2026.