I. ON PATROL IN BENGAL

I. ON PATROL IN BENGAL - This is one of the most unexpected camera stories to come out of Bengal. An Army outpost has got news that help is needed in a certain village. Somebody's got to go and find out details - but the message took days in coming, the village is miles off the road, practically off the map. Here's the answer - pigeons. Trained carrier pigeons are sent with the patrol - and the rest of the story practically tells itself. Patrol and pigeons disembark at the village. Patrols are experts in relief, but without the flying link of their pigeon messengers, they'd be helpless, spending days and weeks waiting for drugs that in the end would come too late. Next step, finding out exactly what is needed. Next, tell it to the pigeons. Each pigeon carries a container tied to its leg, and into that goes the message. Back at the base where we started out. The pigeon finds its way home - and when it steps on the platform to go to roost, it rings a bell. That's immediately answered, and the container is united. While the patrol anxiously awaits the result in our village, medical supplies are speedily packed, and once again the art of war is bent to serve the purposes of peace.

II. INDIAN SCIENCE CONGRESS FIRST MEETING OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY OUTSIDE ENGLAND

II. INDIAN SCIENCE CONGRESS FIRST MEETING OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY OUTSIDE ENGLAND - 1944 says the banner - the fifty year of the scientifically destructive warfare. Well you can't blame the scientists. They give us the discoveries, and if we don't know how to put them to peaceful uses - that's our funeral. Anyway they've just had a meeting in India. Professor A V Hill was there, and it was a very important occasion. Sir Maurice Gwyer was certainly dressed for it, however important. That is what actually happened. Here's the Charter of the Royal Society, and here's a message from Winston Churchill. The gist of the documents was that in honour of Indian scientists such as Professor Bose for example and his colleagues that you see here, the Royal society was meeting for the first time outside England. The Viceroy came to the conference, and congratulated the scientific world generally for its achievements. Then, somewhat caustically remarking that there was a lot to be said for the old-time world before scientists got to work on it, he went on to open the proceedings.

III. FOR VALOUR

III. FOR VALOUR - Two men, and five thousand people gathered in Delhi to do them honour. Or perhaps, when you hear those two men's stories, you will think it is the men who did them honour - them and all their countrymen. Jemadar Gaje Ghale - what he did should have meant certain death, but he lived. Chhelu Ram - what he did saved countless lives - and he died. This is his widow and his child. For her, it's all strange and bewildering. Chhelu Ram is still her husband. Brave, of course. Nobody in their village in Hissar ever thought otherwise. Now widow and child are brought forward to meet the Viceroy. Other wives are watching. The wife of the Viceroy himself. Now he's giving her Chhelu Ram's medal, the Victoria Cross, and she hears the world told how Company Havildar Major Chhelu Ram rallied his men under fire, with no thought for his own danger, despite his serious wounds. How his men, inspired by his example, fought off the enemy, with bayonets, sticks and rocks picked up from the Western Desert. How he was wounded again, and died, still leading his men. Jemadar Gaje Ghale. He lives again in memory of that moment when, wounded in his arm, in his chest and in his leg, he went on fighting. Covered in blood from his neglected wounds he led his men into a hand to hand fight with the enemy. For superb courage - the Victoria Cross. And now the wife of the Viceroy talks to the wife of the hero. The Commander-in-Chief to the bravest of his soldiers. Rarest of all rewards, yet the Victoria Cross has been won six times in the war by Indian soldiers.

IV. MOHARRUM

IV. MOHARRUM - For the Muslims their new Year's Day is a day both of mourning and of rejoicing - first they carry in procession the Taziahs. Taziahs are these ornate model tombs brought out for just this one day and buried for the rest of the year reverently in the ground, and when they fight with sticks they are reminding the onlookers that this day is the anniversary of the death of the great Imam Hussein, the grandson of the prophet who died in battle. Swords and daggers some of them stuck in the cushion are carried in the procession because it's the celebration of one of the greatest battles in Muslim History - the battle of Kurbala. It was a serious battle of right against tyranny which ended sadly with the death of the prophet's grandson. But the anniversary of his death is a hopeful jolly celebration too, as befits a new year ceremony.

V. SIDELIGHTS ON THE HIMALAYAS

V. SIDELIGHTS ON THE HIMALAYAS - These are rubber trees, but until the war, the rubber was never collected. Now, it's being brought into use. The Governor of Assam, in whose province this new rubber grows, has a look at something which is just as important, in a war world, as a nugget of gold. But it was a social occasion as well. The Bhutia's - that's the name of these tribes - don't go n for social gossip, but since they're making a first appearance on the screen, let's write them up. Prominent among the distinguished guests was His Excellency Chief Wangia having just celebrated his hundred and fourth birthday. His Excellency's hat showed customary originality. Striking fashion notes for the coming season were struck by several of the ladies present. Well, may be we're doing them an injustice. Their society is too sensible to have gossip writers. But for all that, the ceremony of presentation of the traditional sword and wool was conducted with the greatest possible dignity. And Prince Tasemu Jushoshow was every inch a prince, all thirty-six of them. Here are some typically fine faces. And here's a typical game. Boo-boo it's called, and presumably it gives the hill men practise in falling of precipices. Archery is another of their sports, although with them its less of a sport than a serious way of getting something for the cooking pot. Finally, the Bhutia dance, a weird recollection of some nightmare dreamed centuries ago in a dark hollow of the high Himalayas.