The rhythmic clatter of train wheels on the tracks has always been the familiar soundtrack to my journeys across the heartlands of West Bengal, Bihar, and Jharkhand. Amidst the ever-changing tableau of paddy fields, rivers, and bustling towns, something else often caught my eye — a solitary, weathered tower of brick, circular in shape, rising perhaps a hundred feet into the sky.

These weren’t the ubiquitous chimneys of brick kilns, nor the functional stacks of rice mills. They possessed a certain gravitas — a silent story embedded in their aged brickwork. Standing in seemingly random locations — sometimes cloaked in foliage, sometimes perched atop a gentle hill, or startlingly close to railway lines — they had long remained an enigma to me, silent witnesses to a forgotten chapter of history.

When Light Spoke Across the Land

Before electricity carried our words through wires, communication was a laborious affair. Couriers on horseback or pigeons with messages tied to their legs were once the swiftest means of reaching afar. Then came the electric telegraph, transforming time and distance.

But even before Morse’s dots and dashes, there was another marvel — the optical telegraph or semaphore, a visual language of moving arms and coded signals. To my astonishment, the mysterious towers I’d seen for years were relics of this very network — the first long-distance communication system in India.

For a brief yet brilliant era, messages flew not through wires but through sight — across towers, telescopes, and the Indian sky.

The discovery transformed my perception of those decaying towers. The crumbling brickwork and eroded façades weren’t mere signs of neglect — they were tangible links to a time when messages travelled not through wires, but on the wings of light and geometry.

The Calcutta–Chunar Line

Between 1816 and 1830, the British East India Company established a line of about 45 semaphore towers, connecting Fort William in Calcutta with Chunar Fort near Varanasi — a distance of nearly 694 kilometres.

These towers followed the Old Benaras Road, later called the Military Road, passing through Howrah, Hooghly, Purulia, Hazaribagh, and Gaya. Each tower was within line of sight of the next, forming a continuous chain of visual communication.

Operators used telescopes to observe signals from the previous tower and replicated them using movable wooden arms, each position representing letters, numbers, or words from a codebook. On a clear day, messages could travel from Calcutta to Chunar in about one hour — a staggering feat for its time.

An Idea from Revolutionary France

The word semaphore comes from the Greek sēma (sign) and phoros (bearer). The system originated in France in the 1790s, invented by Claude Chappe during the French Revolution.

Facing war and chaos, France needed a faster way to communicate. Chappe’s invention — pivoted indicator arms mounted on towers — became the world’s first organized telecommunications network. The British, quick to recognize its potential, brought it to their colonies, including India.

Each Indian tower stood about 80 to 100 feet tall, housing operators, guards, and signaling equipment. They transmitted military orders, administrative decisions, and even personal messages for British officials — all before the electric telegraph’s arrival.

A Fragile Network of Vision & Weather

The semaphore network was both ingenious and fragile. It demanded clear weather, skilled operators, and absolute precision. Any obstruction — fog, rain, or darkness — could halt the flow of information.

Despite these challenges, for nearly half a century, it served as the communication lifeline of the Bengal Presidency, connecting its administrative and military outposts with remarkable efficiency.

Fading into Obsolescence

By the 1860s, the electric telegraph rendered the semaphore obsolete. Its speed, reliability, and independence from weather sealed the fate of the optical towers. Most were dismantled or abandoned, their purpose fading into memory.

Today, only about 18 of the original 45 towers are believed to survive — scattered across West Bengal, Jharkhand, and Bihar. Some, like the one in Sasaram (Bihar) and Hazaribagh (Jharkhand), still stand tall, weathered but resilient, silent witnesses to a vanished era.

In their silence lies the hum of a forgotten network — one that once made light itself speak.

Legacy of the Semaphore

The semaphore’s influence outlived its structures. Its mechanical principles directly inspired the railway semaphore signals that governed India’s railways for decades — those iconic pivoting arms that once dictated the rhythm of trains before color-light systems took over.

Yet, while many European semaphore towers have been restored as heritage sites, their Indian counterparts often stand in decay. These aren’t mere ruins; they are the first pillars of India’s communication revolution — precursors to the digital age.

Preserving the Silent Storytellers

In a world where we take instant communication for granted, these forgotten towers remind us of a time when messages leapt from hilltop to hilltop — a time when the horizon itself was a messenger.

These forgotten towers across eastern India deserve more than passing curiosity. They are silent storytellers, bearing witness to an era when messages leapt from hill to hill, from tower to tower, across the Bengal heartland.

Preserving them isn’t merely about protecting bricks and mortar — it’s about acknowledging an extraordinary blend of science, history, and human ambition. They are silent storytellers, connecting us to a moment when light carried meaning, and distance bowed to ingenuity.