دانلود کتاب The Moplah Rebellion, 1921

As a pensioner, with ample leisure, at my disposal, I undertook the task of compiling the news, published from time to time in the newspapers regarding the Moplah rebellion which broke out at Tirurangadi on 20th August 1921, and with great diffidence, I venture to place before the public the account written by me, in the hope that this attempt at history-writing will be appreciated by the public. - C Gopalan Nair

The book has no pretensions to originality; it is simply a collection of materials arranged under different heads, from which the course of events during the period of insurrection might be followed. It has no pretensions to be a history; it is simply a c chronicle of events, a sketchy view based on the articles and news in the Madras Mail and the West Coast Spectator, to both of whom my acknowledgments are due. I am also indebted to the West Coast Reformer for Mr. Gandhi's Speech on 18th August 1920.



The pleasures of Wealth or of family are not equal to an atom of celestial happiness. Our most venerable Prophet has said that those who die in battle can see the houris who will come to witness the fight. There is nothing in this world to compare to the beauty of the houris. The splendour of the sun, of the moon, and of the lightning is darkness compared with the beauty of their hair which hang over their shoulders. Their cheeks, eyes, face, eyebrows, forehead, head are incomparably lovely. Their mouths are like corals of gold, their teeth like seeds of the thali’ flowers. It is not possible for the mind to conceive of the loveliness of their breasts and shoulders. If they spit in the sea, the salt water becomes as sweet as honey, as fragrant as attar. If they were to come down to this earth, and smile, the sun, moon and stars would be eclipsed. Mortals would die if they but heard the music of their voices. When they wear red silk bordered with green lace of seventy, folds, their skins, muscles and bones can be seen through. Such is the splendour of their body. If they clap their hands, the clash of their jewels will be heard at a distance of 50 years of journey. They clap their hands, dance and sing, as they come like the swans to the battlefield. If a human being were to see their beauty, their dance, or their smile, he would die on the spot. Gently they touch the wounds of those who die in battle, they rub away the blood, cure the pain, they kiss and embrace the martyrs, give them to drink the sweet water of heaven and gratify their every wish. A horse caparisoned with precious stones will be brought and a voice will say: — Let my men mount: let them dance with the celestial houris. Then the celestial coverings will be placed on their heads, they will mount the beautiful horse which will dance and leap and take them to heaven, where they will live in unbounded joy. - “song” composed in the memory of 47 Sayyidakkals