The independence struggle was where the idea of India was shaped and we, the people, truly determined the future we wanted. Even today, we, the people, have the right to shape our future. It is important that children learn about acts of resistance and their power to bring about change to create the country they want to live in. The history of the freedom movement as taught in school textbooks is primarily about leaders and politics, while the movement itself was a people’s movement and functioned differently in different parts of the country depending on local challenges and concerns. The idea behind Duckbill’s Songs of Freedom series is to use children’s experiences to show how the events of the movement played out in different parts of the country.
Here are short excerpts from each book in the series:
Postcard from the Lushai Brigade, Hannah Lalhlanpuii
1942
I picked up one of the coins and looked at it closely. “It’s strange – I never really paid attention to the details of coins. I didn’t know there were so many patterns, carvings and letters.”
Maybe my brother could see all the questions going through my mind. “The image on the coin is King George VI. Those funny letters printed around the edge of the coin mean George VI, by the Grace of God King of all Britain, 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 that he is the ruler of everything and everyone in India. And not just India, he is the ruler of almost half the world,” my brother had explained patiently. He had paused to give me time to digest the information. I couldn’t really grasp the idea of the great Mizo chiefs and a big, burly man like Mr. McCall bowing to the man on the coin, a man from a distant land who looked nothing like us.
“But there are brave men like Gandhi, Subhas Chandra Bose, Rajendra Prasad and many others. They will one day drive all the English out of India,” my brother had said as he put the coins back in his pocket. “You know, one day we will use money with the face of our great leaders engraved on it.”
A conspiracy in Calcutta, Lesley D Biswas
1928
Suddenly, Kaka started stopping the rickshaw on the side of the road. The other vehicles on the road – cars, buses, moving at a snail’s pace – slowed down. Even the pedestrians stopped.
“What are we waiting for?”
A car with an open top appeared in the distance.
Despite the cold, Bithi’s hands were sweating. It was the police commissioner she had heard horror stories about!
As the vehicle passed barely an arm’s length from her rickshaw, Bithi caught a glimpse of his expressionless face and his blank steel-blue eyes, which witnessed countless cruelties every day.
Today his Staffordshire Bull Terrier wasn’t sitting on the hood of the car, as people often said. He was sitting by his owner’s side. Dog and owner looked strangely similar with their compact, muscular bodies and well-brushed brown coats.
Only when the car turned the corner did Bithi finally feel that she could breathe.
“Have you seen how mean and vicious that dog looks? What could he feed that dog?” gasped Sulata.
“Our countrymen!”
Ranchi uprising, Swati Sengupta
1915
Within moments, Jawa had disappeared.
I struggled home, filled with a strange mixture of emotions. Was it the grief of having caused her such pain? Was it the joy of finding her alive and releasing her? Was it the understanding of how much her condition resembled ours? I had released Jawa, but who would us free?
Sometimes we don’t know. But I knew one thing for sure – the words of yesterday’s sermon about animal kindness had a strange effect on me. They made me understand how important freedom is for all creatures.
Just as we suffered under the rule of the English, zamindars and moneylenders who took away all our hard-earned income, Jawa too had suffered with the rope tied around her tender leg. I decided to give up bird-catching with birdlime, one of the favourite games of us Kurukh boys.
This year at Manikoil, Aditi Krishnakumar
1944
“You understand why I have to go, don’t you?” said my brother.
“No,” I burst out. “I don’t. I don’t care if it’s a good thing. It’s not our business. You don’t have to go. You won’t like fighting. You don’t even like sports. You wouldn’t even join your college cricket team! You think you can turn the tide of the fighting?”
“That’s unlikely. You’re right, I won’t like it. But it’s our business. It may not have started that way, but it is now. Pattu Mama told you about the ships?”
“The Japanese Navy? You said the rumors about Pattu Mama’s brother-in-law were never true.”
“They are no longer. But the war is close to our borders. The Japanese army could march through India from the northeast. 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 into the crowd. Some people ran and got away. Some were lying flat on the ground, coughing with tears streaming down their faces. And in all the chaos, she disappeared into the crowd. Uncle said her name was Aruna Asif Ali.”
All three of us were silent. Every day we passed by the Gowalia Tank on our way to school. I imagined the big Maidan and people running all over the place while white clouds of gas hovered in the air, like in 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 understood why.
I mean, I just couldn’t imagine any of us facing angry cops and tear gas.
The letter to Lahore, Tanu Shree Singh
1921
As Chacha rushed out, Luxmi ducked slowly. He saw her and pulled her behind the wall.
“What are you doing here, Luxmi!”
“S-sorry, Chacha! II…”
“It’s good that you’re here. Listen carefully. I can’t go home. And it’s not safe for me to go to Lahore either. The police will be on my tail. I’m going to Kullu and a few days later to Shimla. I’m supposed to go to the post office in Kullu anyway. Tell Amma I’ve been called away to work. Don’t tell anyone else. And the letter – well, it’s up to you now, Luxmi!”
Luxmi swallowed. “W-what do you mean, it’s my fault?”
Chacha smiled. “You wanted to help, didn’t you? Well, now you have to take the letter to Ram Babu within the next few days. I will send him a message so that he is ready to take it to Lahore.”
The train to Tanjore, Devika Rangachari
1942
Now it was all about the British – and Thambi began to realise many things he hadn’t noticed before. For example, he knew a lot about the Wars of the Roses in England (a stupid fight between cousins where everyone took sides and then switched sides, and so on and so forth until his head hurt from the details!) and about the Tudor dynasty that followed and its struggles.
But what the newspapers reported about the country’s affairs – about Mahatma Gandhi and his non-violent struggle for India’s independence, and all the freedom fighters past and present – was never taught in school. Nor did they learn much about Indian history, except the bits and pieces that the British discovered in excavations and so on. In fact, it was almost as if India had had no great history before the British came – and that couldn’t possibly be true, given what he knew about the subject.
Thambi was increasingly confused by this situation. However, when he tried to speak to Raghavan Sir about it at school, he seemed nervous and his eyes darted around.
A melody in Mysore, Shruthi Rao
1932
I remembered what she had told me about some of the recordings that had patriotic messages. I went through the recordings but couldn’t figure out which ones they were.
“Where are the Deshabhakti messages?” I asked. “Have you kept them separately?”
“Oh no, no!” Malathi Akka pointed to some Tamil and Hindi language records. “They are all openly deshabhakti. But here -” She pointed to some others. “Some are patriotic messages disguised as bhajans. And some are stage music but contain hidden messages!”
“But why hide and pretend?”
“The British government is so afraid of it that it regularly issues banning regulations…”
“What, afraid of songs?”
“Oh yes, they are afraid of the power they have. Do you know how afraid they were of the song? Vande Mataram“At one time, any records containing this song or even the words ‘vande mataram’ were banned – that is, they were not allowed to be heard. Anyone who owned these records could be arrested for sedition. Whole stocks were burned and the people who owned them were thrown in prison.”
