The struggle for independence was when the idea of India was shaped, and where we the people truly determined the future we wanted. Even today, we the people deserve to shape our future. It is important for children to learn about acts of resistance and about their power to make changes to bring about the country they want to live in. The history of the freedom movement, as taught in textbooks, is primarily about leaders and policies, whereas the movement itself was a popular one, and worked differently in different parts of the country according to local challenges and concerns. The idea behind Duckbill’s Songs of Freedom series is to showcase how the events of the movement played out in different parts of the country, through the experiences of children.
Here are short excerpts from each book in the series:
Postcard from the Lushai Brigade, Hannah Lalhlanpuii
1942
Picking up one of the coins, I had looked at it closely. “It’s strange – I’d never really paid much attention to details of coins. I didn’t know there would be this much design and so many carvings and letters.”
Perhaps my brother was able to see all the questions running through my head. “The face on the surface of the coin is King George VI. These funny letters printed round the edge of the coin means George VI, by the grace of God, King of all the Britains, Defender of the Faith, Emperor of India.” His explanation had only added more questions to the ones I already had.
“What about the Superintendent Mr McCall and all the Mizo chiefs in the Lushai Hills? Are they also under the rule of this George?”
“Yes. You see, Emperor of India means he’s the ruler of everything and everyone in India. And not just India, he’s the ruler of almost half of the world,” my brother had explained patiently. He had paused to give me time to swallow the information. I couldn’t really grasp the idea of the great Mizo chiefs and a tall, big man like Mr McCall bowing to the man on the coin, a man from a far-off land who looked nothing like us.
“But there are brave men like Gandhi, Subhas Chandra Bose, Rajendra Prasad and many others. They’ll drive out all the English from India one day,” my brother had said as he put the coins back in his pocket. “You know, one day, we’ll use money with the face of our great leaders engraved on it.”
A Conspiracy in Calcutta, Lesley D Biswas
1928
All of a sudden, Kaka began to pull up the rickshaw on the side of the road. The other vehicles on the road – cars, buses, the trams that moved at a snail’s pace – slowed down. Even the pedestrians stopped.
“What are we waiting for?”
An open-top car appeared in the distance.
Despite the cold, Bithi’s hands became slick with perspiration. It was the police commissioner she’d heard horror stories about!
As the vehicle passed at barely an arm’s distance from their rickshaw, Bithi caught a glimpse of his expressionless face and impassive steel-blue eyes that witnessed countless cruelties every day.
Today, his Staffordshire bull terrier wasn’t riding on the bonnet as people said it often did. It sat by its master’s side. Dog and master looked curiously similar with their compact muscular bodies and well-brushed brown hair.
Only after the car had turned the corner did Bithi finally feel she could breathe.
“Did you see how mean and vicious the dog looks? What could he be feeding that dog?” gasped Sulata.
“Our countrymen!”
Rebellion in Ranchi, Swati Sengupta
1915
Within a few moments, Jawa was gone.
I laboured home, filled with a strange mix of emotions. Was it the sorrow of causing her such pain? Was it the pleasure of finding her alive and setting her free? Was it understanding how her condition was similar to ours? I had released Jawa, but who would set us free?
Sometimes, we do not know. But one thing I knew for sure – last night’s words preaching about kindness to animals had had a strange effect on me. It made me understand how dear freedom is to all creatures.
Just as we were struggling under the rule of Englishmen, zamindars and moneylenders who took away all our hard-won earnings, Jawa too had suffered with that rope tied around her tender leg. I decided to give up capturing birds with bird lime, one of the favourite games of us Kurukh boys.
That Year at Manikoil, Aditi Krishnakumar
1944
“You understand why I have to go, don’t you?” my brother said.
“No,” I burst out. “I don’t. I don’t care if it’s a good cause. It’s not our cause. You don’t have to go. You won’t like fighting. You don’t even like sports. You wouldn’t join your college cricket team! You think you’re going to turn the tide of battles?”
“That’s unlikely. You’re right, I won’t like it. But it is our cause. It may not have begun that way, but now it is. Pattu Mama told you about the ships?”
“The Japanese navy? You said Pattu Mama’s brother-in-law’s rumours are never true.”
“No more they are. But the war is close to our borders. The Japanese army might sweep through India from the north-east. How can I not go to defend my family?”
The Chowpatty Cooking Club, Lubaina Bandukwala
1942
“Uncle said the police went crazy! They threw tear gas at the crowd. Some people ran and got away. Some lay flat on the ground coughing, with tears streaming down their faces. And in all that chaos, she disappeared into the crowd. Uncle said that her name was Aruna Asif Ali.”
All three of us were silent. We passed Gowalia Tank every day on our way to school. I imagined the big maidan and people running helter-skelter with clouds of white gas in the air, like the pictures I had seen in the newspapers.
Mehul cleared his throat and said in his best freedom-fighter voice: “We must also act! We must follow in the footsteps of the brave women of India and adopt the life of a satyagrahi.”
But his voice lacked conviction. I could see why.
I mean, I simply couldn’t imagine any of us facing angry policemen and tear gas.
The Letter to Lahore, Tanu Shree Singh
1921
As Chacha hurried out, Luxmi was slow to duck. He saw her and pulled her behind the wall.
“What are you doing here, Luxmi!”
“S-sorry Chacha! I-I…”
“It’s good that you are here. Listen carefully. I can’t go home. And it isn’t safe for me to go to Lahore either. The police will be on my tracks. I am going to Kullu and then onwards to Shimla a few days later. I am supposed to visit the Kullu post office anyway. Tell Amma I was called away on work. Don’t say anything else to anyone. And the letter – well, now it is up to you, Luxmi!”
Luxmi gulped. “Wh-what do you mean it is up to me?”
Chacha smiled. “You wanted to help, didn’t you? Well, now you have to get the letter to Ram Babu within the next few days. I will send him a message so that he is ready to carry it to Lahore.”
The Train to Tanjore, Devika Rangachari
1942
Everything was now about the British – and Thambi began to realise many things that he hadn’t even noticed before. He knew a lot about the Wars of the Roses in England, for instance (some stupid fight between cousins with everyone taking sides and then changing sides, and on and on until his head ached with the details!), and the Tudor dynasty that followed and their fights.
But what the newspapers were saying about matters within the country – about Mahatma Gandhi and his non-violent campaign for India’s independence and all the freedom fighters of the past and present – wasn’t ever taught at school. Nor did they learn much about Indian history except the bits that the British were discovering through excavations and so on. In fact, it was almost as if India didn’t have much of a history before the British came – and that couldn’t possibly be true from whatever he could understand of the subject.
Thambi felt increasingly puzzled at this state of affairs. When he’d tried to broach it to Raghavan Sir at school, though, the latter had looked nervous and his eyes had darted about.
A Melody in Mysore, Shruthi Rao
1932
I remembered what she had told me about some of the records containing patriotic messages. I went through the records but couldn’t figure out which these were.
“Where are the ones with deshabhakti messages?” I asked. “Have you put them separately?”
“Oh no, no!” Malathi Akka pointed to some Tamil and Hindi records. “These are all openly deshabhakti. But here –” She pointed to some others. “Some are messages of patriotism, disguised as bhajanes. And some are stage music but have hidden messages in them!”
“But why hide and disguise?”
“The British government is so terrified of these that they frequently pass orders to ban…”
“What, terrified of songs?”
“Oh yes, terrified of the power they have. Do you know how scared they were of the song Vande Mataram? At one time, all records containing that song, or even the words vande mataram were proscribed – that means they were not allowed to be heard. Anybody with those records could be arrested for sedition. Entire stocks were burned and the people owning them were thrown into jail.”
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