DigiCat Publishing presents to you this special edition of "The Young Rajah" by William Henry Giles Kingston. DigiCat Publishing considers every written word to be a legacy of humankind. Every DigiCat book has been carefully reproduced for republishing in a new modern format. The books are available in print, as well as ebooks. DigiCat hopes you will treat this work with the acknowledgment and passion it deserves as a classic of world literature.
A long-lost collection of Indian fairy tales transcribed by the daughter of the British governor of Bombay. In the cold months of 1865, young Mary Frere and her father, Bartle Frere, British governor of Bombay, set out in a caravan across the Deccan province of south central India. During their journey Mary transcribed 24 popular Hindu folktales told to her by her nursemaid. That collection of tales, which she published as Old Deccan Days, not only became the first Indian folklore collection in English, it established a new genre of writing about British India. These marvelously imaginative tales from the Indian oral tradition are peopled with beautiful, smart, outspoken women; restless, adventuresome men; gods who take on human form; and animals who know the secrets of human destinies. Evil magicians cast spells on humans, changing them to plants, and demonic, ogre-like Rakshases savor human flesh.
Through the lens of cinema, this book explores the ways in which the United States, Britain and India impacted each other politically, culturally and ideologically. It argues that American films of the 1920s posited alternative notions of whiteness and the West to that of Britain, which stood for democracy and social mobility even at a time of virulent racism. The book examines the impact that the American cinema has on Indian filmmakers of the period, who were integrating its conventions with indigenous artistic traditions to articulate an Indian modernity. It considers the way American films in the 1920s presented an orientalist fantasy of Asia, which occluded the harsh realities of anti-Asian sentiment and legislation in the period as well as the exciting engagement of anti-imperial activists who sought to use the United States as the base of a transnational network. The book goes on to analyse the American ‘empire films’ of the 1930s, which adapted British narratives of empire to represent the United States as a new global paradigm. Presenting close readings of films, literature and art from the era, the book engages cinema studies with theories of post-colonialism and transnationalism, and provides a novel approach to the study of Indian cinema.
" It was like some shadowy pantomime: The dark mouth of an alleyway thrown into murky relief by the rays of a distant street lamp...the swift, forward leap of a skulking figure...a girl's form swaying and struggling in the man's embrace. Then, a pantomime no longer, there came a half threatening, half triumphant oath; and then the girl's voice, quiet, strangely contained, almost imperious: "Now, give me back that purse, please. Instantly!" The man, already retreating into the alleyway, paused to fling back a jeering laugh. "Say, youse've got yer nerve, ain't youse!" The girl turned her head so that the rays of the street lamp, faint as they were, fell full upon her, disclosing a sweet, oval face, out of which the dark eyes gazed steadily at the man. And suddenly the man leaned forward, staring for an instant, and then his hand went awkwardly to touch his cap. "De White Moll!" he mumbled deferentially. He pulled the peak of his cap down over his eyes in a sort of shame-faced way, as though to avoid recognition, and, stepping nearer, returned the purse. "'Scuse me, miss," he said uneasily. "I didn't know it was youse—honest to Gawd, I didn't! 'Scuse me, miss. Good-night!"
