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April 10, 2026
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"ABACOT, n. A cap of state wrought into the shape of two crowns, formerly worn by kings. Very pretty monarchs had it made in the form of three crowns."
"Have you noticed when you wear a hat for a long time it feels like it's not there anymore? And then when you take it off it feels like it's still there?"
"The hat is the ultimatum moriens of respectability."
"A man is nothing without his hat."
"A hat should be taken off when greeting a lady, and left off the rest of your life. Nothing looks more stupid than a hat."
"He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block."
"———“Are we not here now;”—continued the corporal, “and are we not”—(dropping his hat plumb upon the ground—and pausing, before he pronounced the word)——“gone! in a moment?” The descent of the hat was as if a heavy lump of clay had been kneaded into the crown of it.——Nothing could have expressed the sentiment of mortality, of which it was the type and fore-runner, like it,—his hand seemed to vanish from under it,—it fell dead,—the corporal’s eye fix’d upon it, as upon a corps,—and Susannah burst into a flood of tears. Now—Ten thousand, and ten thousand times ten thousand (for matter and motion are infinite) are the ways by which a hat may be dropped upon the ground, without any effect.——Had he flung it, or thrown it, or cast it, or skimmed it, or squirted, or let it slip or fall in any possible direction under heaven,—or in the best direction that could be given to it,—had he dropped it like a goose—like a puppy—like an ass—or in doing it, or even after he had done, had he looked like a fool,—like a ninny—like a nicompoop—it had fail’d, and the effect upon the heart had been lost. Ye who govern this mighty world and its mighty concerns with the engines of eloquence,—who heat it, and cool it, and melt it, and mollify it,——and then harden it again to your purpose—— Ye who wind and turn the passions with this great windlass,— and, having done it, lead the owners of them, whither ye think meet— Ye, lastly, who drive——and why not, Ye also who are driven, like turkeys to market, with a stick and a red clout—meditate—meditate, I beseech you, upon Trim’s hat."
"Oh, Hat that cows the spirit! ...If any spirit be... First cousin to the Black Cap And sign of slavery! Funereal and horrible... But this at least I owe it; It matches to a nicety The Face that Sits Below It!."
"Sye," he seyd, "be the same hatte I can knowe yf my wyfe be badde To me by eny other man; If my floures ouver fade or falle, Then doth my wyfe me wrong wyth alle As many a woman can."
"So Britain's monarch once uncovered sat, While Bradshaw bullied in a broad-brimmed hat."
"One should not talk of hatters in the house of the hanged."
"A hat not much the worse for wear."
"My new straw hat that's trimly lin'd with green, Let Peggy wear."
"I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat And the breeches and all that Are so queer."
"The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no Salaam; And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam."
"A sermon on a hat: "'The hat, my boy, the hat, whatever it may be, is in itself nothing—makes nothing, goes for nothing; but, be sure of it, everything in life depends upon the cock of the hat.' For how many men—we put it to your own experience, reader—have made their way through the thronging crowds that beset fortune, not by the innate worth and excellence of their hats, but simply, as Sampson Piebald has it, by 'the cock of their hats'? The cock's all.""
"I never saw so many shocking bad hats in my life."
Young though he was, his radiant energy produced such an impression of absolute reliability that Hedgewar made him the first sarkaryavah, or general secretary, of the RSS.
- Gopal Mukund Huddar
Largely because of the influence of communists in London, Huddar's conversion into an enthusiastic supporter of the fight against fascism was quick and smooth. The ease with which he crossed from one worldview to another betrays the fact that he had not properly understood the world he had grown in.
Huddar would have been 101 now had he been alive. But then centenaries are not celebrated only to register how old so and so would have been and when. They are usually celebrated to explore how much poorer our lives are without them. Maharashtrian public life is poorer without him. It is poorer for not having made the effort to recall an extraordinary life.
I regret I was not there to listen to Balaji Huddar's speech [...] No matter how many times you listen to him, his speeches are so delightful that you feel like listening to them again and again.
By the time he came out of Franco's prison, Huddar had relinquished many of his old ideas. He displayed a worldview completely different from that of the RSS, even though he continued to remain deferential to Hedgewar and maintained a personal relationship with him.