P. Sainath
penguin books
Rs.499
Pages 256
A valiant attempt to tell the stories of 15 unsung freedom fighters of exceptional courage who have been almost expunged from the narrative of the freedom struggle
As India commemorates 75 years of independence, Sainath’s Last Heroes cuts to the heart of the chase. Where are the images, ideas, lives and stories of ordinary women, men and children who participated in the freedom struggle represented in magnum opus celebrations? The Last Heroes’ raison d’etre is a valiant attempt to undo this seven-decade long erasure. To tell the stories of those who have been almost expunged from the retelling and memory creation of the freedom struggle.
As 15 freedom fighters share their stories, we are introduced to lives of exceptional courage reflected in word, deed and being, in a vocabulary marked by such simplicity and humility that it almost appears surreal in today’s India of hagiographic representations and muscular politics. Sainath skillfully weaves in the history, socio-economic and political context allowing the reader to tease out the connections as he zooms in and out from the personal narratives, traversing time and space.
We learn of extraordinary women. For example, Demati de Sabar Salihan who fearlessly took on a gun-toting British policeman with a lathi, inspiring, 40 other young women to join her. Today she lives in degrading poverty, her maana patra, a certificate of honour, a eulogy to her father, presenting her as a supporting actor. Mallu Swarajyam of the women’s armed squads who fought for bhumi, bhakti and vimukti (land, livelihood and liberation) in the anti-Nizam struggle, spends a lifetime fighting injustice, patriarchy and slavery of all forms. Hausabai of the Toofani Sena, a member of the daring team of revolutionaries that attacked trains, looted police armouries and participated in underground action in Portuguese-ruled Goa. Till the last she had fire in her belly, championing the cause of farmers’ rights at the age of 93. Laxmi Panda, who at 13 years was one of the youngest members of Subhash Chandra Bose’s Indian National Army, but because she ‘never went to jail, trained with a rifle but never fired a bullet’, spent six decades without getting due recognition as a freedom fighter.
We learn of unsung men drawn from rural India. Shobharam Ghevar who participated as a child in the decoy games of escorting the likes of Chadrashekhar Azad to crude bomb making factories, and at 96 years is guardian of the Swatantra Senaani Bhawan, a meeting place for freedom fighters in Ajmer, fast fading into insignificance.
Captain Bhau, one of the leaders of the Toofani Sena or the armed wing of the provisional government in Satara which declared independence from the British in 1943. The self-effacing Comrade RNK who played a pivotal role in integrating the peasant struggles and anti-colonial movement, and continues to struggle for the cause at the age of 97. Baji Mohammad, a Gandhian freedom fighter from Orissa who offered satyagraha countless times, was arrested several times but continued to embody Gandhian ideals of non-violence all his life — donating 14 acres of his land to the Bhoodan Movement, taking a bloody beating on his head necessitating hospitalisation as a member of the post-Babri Masjid peace team. He accepted his pension in his later years only to donate it to schools for Adivasis and Dalits.
The Last Heroes makes poignant reading. Every story brings one face-to-face with the question: have we achieved the freedom we aspired and fought for? The lives of subaltern unsung heroes drawn from rural India across castes, religions and occupations mirrors the travesties of our freedom movement. Each of them articulates how 1947 brought independence but the struggle for freedoms continues — liberation from economic inequity, communal hatred, caste prejudice, gender inequality and social injustice.
The writing is moving. It leaves one seething at the indignity and injustice inflicted on the last heroes and countless others by a system seeped in colonial bureaucratic rigmarole. Sainath highlights the irony of independent India choosing to recognise its freedom fighters and framing eligibility criterion for pensions such as the swatantra sainik samman. He details the ‘seven laws of suffering’ — imprisonment, driven underground on being proclaimed an offender, interment/externment, losing property or government job and suffering ten stokes of caning, whipping and flogging. For suffering these punishments, the burden of proof devolves on the claimant. And the irony is that it necessitates attestation/certification — not from nationalist leaders, comrades, local communities, neighbours and common Indians — but from British official records. For example, the memorial pillar that commemorates the 67th anniversary of the Saliha Revolt, in which Demati de Sabar Salihan participated, does not contain her name nor does it give any recognition to the Sabar tribals who led the revolt.
The lives and beliefs of these foot soldiers of the freedom movement bring us face-to-face with people who refused to be encased in politico-ideological silos. They were men and women who embody many-sided truths and assimilated contradictory beliefs. Shobharam Ghevar asks, ‘Why should I choose between Gandhi and Ambedkar?’ He finds merit in Gandhi and Ambedkar’s principles and is comfortable with both labels of a Dalit and Harijan. “I was with both Gandhivad and Krantivad.” Many of the lives narrated in the book conjoin the spirit of Gandhi and Leftist politics. For example, Thelu and Lokki Mahto who are Leftist by persuasion and Gandhian by personality.
The book is an interesting read for general readers, students, academics and journalists alike. As the post-1947 generation we need these stories, not only to give recognition and learn from the lives of unsung heroes who fought for a plural, just and free India but to question and unlearn the communal, biased nationalist histories that are widely circulating today. As Sainath says, “we need these stories to better script our own.”
Hem Borker (The Book Review)