Untold Story of Broadcast during Quit India Movement

Title: Untold Story of Broadcast during Quit India Movement
Editor: Gautam Chatterjee
Publisher: Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, 2018 (First)
ISBN: 9788123027951
Pages: 164

After decades of struggle on the streets, Congress decided to participate in the limited power sharing agreement in the provinces of British India as envisaged in the Government of India Act, 1935. It obtained a landslide win in the elections and came to power in most of the provinces in 1937. But this was not to last long. When the Second World War broke out two years later, Britain unilaterally pulled India to fight alongside the Allied Powers. The Congress was willing to fight against Hitler and his Axis Powers, but dragging India into war without even consulting its political leaders piqued them which led to Congress resigning from all provincial governments. A general state of non-cooperation against the British was also declared. However, with Germany’s clear advantage in the years 1940-41 and Japan’s unchallenged conquest of the entire East Asia, prompted the Congress to try to oust the British from India using the opportunity. With most of her troops fighting in Africa, Europe and West Asia, Britain was already on its knees here. Gandhi declared the ‘Quit India’ campaign and urged the party workers to ‘Do or Die’. However, contrary to Congress hopes, the government retaliated with ferocious intensity, imprisoning all Congress leaders, right down to the village level. The party organisation became leaderless and the cadres went on a rampage of violence by clashing with the police, uprooting communication poles and cutting lines, sabotaging of rail network and setting fire to government institutions. Since the press went under censorship, there was no way for Congress to establish communication with the masses. At this desperate point, a few clever people in Mumbai installed a low-power radio transmitter and started airing propaganda material. After about three months of tracing the signals, the police zeroed in on the location of the transmitter and arrested the people behind it. This book follows the court verdict convicting the workers and police monitoring reports of the transmission. The book is published by the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts and the editor is Gautam Chatterjee.

Even though the British had cast their finely meshed net far and wide, some Congress leaders managed to evade arrest in August 1942. Ram Manohar Lohia, a prominent socialist leader, funded the clandestine radio in a bid to reach out to the people and carry on the struggle. Every day in the morning and evening, the radio sputtered to life for about an hour’s transmission with the line ‘This is the Congress Radio, somewhere from India, calling on 42.34 meters’. The program started with a patriotic song ‘Hindustan Hamara’ and ended with ‘Vande Mataram’. It ran for two months from 3 Sep 1942 to 12 Nov 1942 when the police raided the premises where the transmitter was located and took into custody both the equipment and operators. It brought news of protests in various parts of the country and spread instructions from the party bosses to continue struggle against the government. The transmitting power was very low at 10W in the beginning, but later enhanced to 100W. As the police was tracing and monitoring the broadcast, the location of the transmitter was being continuously shifted from place to place.

As can be expected, the transmitted content often lacked a coherent structure and a feasible plan on how to move forward. The exhortations were also not practical, such as its call to the city dwellers to leave towns, settle in the countryside and help farmers in the fields. The rural folk should then stop the sale of agricultural produce to starve the cities. This blockade would force the other agents in the economy to collapse as well which would hamper the government’s war effort. It predicted a famine because food grains were channeled out of the country to feed overseas armies. The radio called for a total boycott of the regime by transacting no business with and challenging it such as exhibiting the tri-colour flag at homes, ignoring court summons, not purchasing foreign goods, withdrawing money from government-owned banks and boycotting servants of government.

The radio decried violence in general, but advocated its wholehearted use if it was really needed to tide over the situation. The government replied with a ‘fight the goondas’ campaign. Readers get only a glimpse of the government’s retaliatory measures through passing references in the transmission. The government maintained the pious lie that only a few people demanded freedom and the nation’s 90 million Muslims were against the idea. The radio denied this vehemently and cited the Id greetings broadcast on the radio as symbol of secularism and reconciliation! Huge collective fines were imposed on villages. Hajipur in Bihar was compelled to pay Rs. 19,000 as fine when a year’s entire municipal revenue was only Rs. 10,000. The Congress radio tried to address the molestation of women in police searches of their homes for absconding men. It advised them to prevent any act of rape nonviolently, failing which, the violator should be killed or they themselves should get killed in their fightback.

Sticking to the Congress policy of nonviolence in its actions, the party made boisterous claims on the ‘revolution’ it was pulling through in the country. This revolution was thought to be a peculiar one in which arms were not used and not even necessary. It was not of an aggressive minority, but of the entire people. Damage to public property and communication infrastructure were exclaimed as victory for the revolution. The telephone poles along the Bengal – Nagpur railway line suffered extensive damage in a cyclonic storm. This was hailed as an act of god in support of the revolution. It also threatened the government contractors to stop work because the fall in currency value in the event of foreign aggression or the declaration of free India would financially cripple them.

What we see in the book is the systematic effort of the police to track down the transmitter and punish the perpetrators after a fair trial. The Bombay police prepared transcripts of all broadcasts. Penal sentences of one to five years were slapped on the persons responsible. Vithaldas Madhavji Khakhar, who was the brain and fundraiser of the plot, got five years rigorous imprisonment. While the Congress leaders fought the British and went behind bars, the Muslim League and the Communists colluded with the government. As part of the boycott plan, the Ahmedabad textile mill workers had went on strike. British administrators used the Communists to break the strike by inviting workers to resume work for better remuneration promised by the government. Very few people heeded their call.

The book miserably fails to create a narrative from the data the editor painstakingly collected from the National Archives. The documents are simply reproduced verbatim without any analysis or assessment on the editor’s part. The content is often exaggerated and unconfirmed. The radio reports are mere propaganda material, proving or falsifying nothing. It claimed that 50,000 Indians were killed by the government in just two months after the Quit India campaign started. The text is riddled with spelling and grammatical errors and a quarter of the book is devoted to copy the court’s judgment indicting the accused. Readers are forced to walk through this thick jungle of legalese.

 

The book is not recommended.

 

Rating: 1 Star

Emperors of the Peacock Throne

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title: Emperors of the Peacock Throne – The Saga of the Great Mughals
Author: Abraham Eraly
Publisher: Penguin, 2000 (First published 1997)
ISBN: 9780141001432
Pages: 555

Popular legends and colourful descriptions of contemporary chroniclers of emperors make the Mughals the most glamorous dynasty that ever ruled India. Babur established this dynasty in India by invading from central Asia through Afghanistan. The empire, which was seeded by Babur, reached the zenith of its glory under Akbar but Aurangzeb spread the seeds of its eventual disintegration. This book is the story of the first six emperors from Babur to Aurangzeb who are known as the Great Mughals. This is part of a four-volume study titled ‘India Retold’, covering the history of India from the beginning up to 1858. This volume deals with medieval history spanning the years 1526 and 1707. Abraham Eraly was a professor of history at colleges in Chennai and the US. He also edited a fortnightly current affairs magazine for a few years.

The author tries to find a philosophical reason for another book on Mughals who are well documented in contemporary as well as modern histories. History needs to be re-evaluated in the light of the prevailing consensus of each era. As time goes by, people rework it as all works of history are only interim reports. Herodotus opened his historical treatise with the line ‘this is a publication in order that actions of men may not be effaced by time’ which is equally valid for all re-interpretations. Eraly asserts that the historian is not a moral eunuch. His moral voice gives his work its unique timbre. There are no absolutes in history, but the historian must affirm his views. This makes it mandatory for interpreting history in light of new developments in society. We should not concentrate only on the major events because even though they shape the contours of history, the particulars and trifling incidents breathe life into it. This book faithfully reproduces the methodology outlined in these lines.

Eraly provides a neat comparison of the two legendary emperors of India – Ashoka and Akbar – even though they are separated in time by eighteen centuries. Ashoka is enveloped in ‘misty, golden glow of myth’ while Akbar lived too close to our own time and chronicled by many people whose accounts we have access to, so that we get to know the person behind the persona. He was a deeply troubled man, unhappy with himself and unsure of the world. Eraly claims that Akbar’s compassion was not of character, which was violent, but of intelligence. Towards the end of his life, he virtually gave up eating meat, saying that ‘it is not right for a man to make his stomach the grave of animals’. We have a clear parallel to Ashoka here. Some of Akbar’s idiosyncrasies are however not repeated. Akbar used Ganga water for drinking and arranged trustworthy persons stationed on the banks of Ganga to send the water in sealed jars wherever he was. While Ashoka promoted Buddhism during his reign, Akbar invented a syncretic religion and invited his courtiers to flock to it. The author states that Din Ilahi was a lost opportunity to India as a pathway to a religiously harmonious future. The new religion opened the potential for India to come out of medievalism into modern age. Discussions of a purely secular nature took place between Akbar and members of the Chosen Forty people who guided Din Ilahi proponents. This was unheard of in India for a long time. Eraly puts the situation in his golden prose: ‘for a brief, shining moment, a new and brilliant star blazed over Fatehpur Sikri. Then the moment passed. And the night closed in again’.

Like the leftist historians, Eraly too tries his best to paper over horrific acts of religious bigotry and spiff up the Mughal emperors by laboriously finding out mitigating factors. While in Gwalior, Babur ordered the destruction of idols in Jain temples as they were portrayed naked. The author redeems Babur by conceding that ‘it was Babur’s aesthetic sensibilities that were offended by the Jain idols, not his religious sentiments’ (p.31). Humayun decapitated some of his men for a minor offence committed when they were in a state of inebriation. Eraly justifies this wanton cruelty as ‘inflicting such savage and arbitrary punishment was a medieval royal privilege, a demonstration of the king’s absolute power’ (p.45). After capturing Chitor, Akbar ordered a general massacre, killing 30,000 people, according to Abul Fazal. This is being condoned as an attempt to ‘show that greater the resistance, greater will be the retaliation and also to strike terror in potential adversaries and cripple their will to fight’. Moreover, ‘there were no random, impulsive persecution of Hindus under Aurangzeb' (p.397) and Aurangzeb’s imposition of jizya was ‘possibly due to revenue considerations’ (p.404). See the author’s sheer reluctance to accept the plain truth that he is speaking about first-rate religious bigots? This is the sad state of affairs in most of Indian historiography.

The book includes neat asides on Sher Shah and Shivaji, who threatened the very foundations of Mughal Empire. Mughal rulers are often excused for their religious fanaticism on account of medieval zeitgeist. But here, the author exhibits a refreshing contrast between Shivaji and Aurangzeb. This book states that Shivaji had high respect for women, whether of his own or of his enemy. Even Mughal chroniclers who habitually damned Shivaji as ‘the hell dog’ praises his fair treatment of captives and subject people. Khafi Khan admits that Shivaji was ‘careful to maintain the honour of women and children of Muslims when they fell into his hands’. Shivaji, no doubt, had intense religious faith and was a proud Hindu, but he respected the devotion of other people to other religions. Even in that harsh age and brutal environment, he exhibited rare probity even in his depredations. Except in a single, exceptional case, did he ravage a Muslim holy place. Whenever a Quran fell into his hands in the course of plunder, he deferentially handed it over to the Muslim officers in his entourage. This reverential treatment of people of other religions was extended even to the Europeans. This discussion clearly shows that invocation of the medieval spirit does not acquit Mughals of the charge of bigotry and intolerance.

The author also examines the impact of Mughal rule on Indian society which does not appear to be as rosy as it is often made out to be. It transformed the lifestyle of the elite throughout India. The rich and powerful aspired to be Mughals. In architecture, cuisine, language, music and dance, the standards of excellence for a long time would be Mughalai. Yet, India did not change in its essence. There was no transmutation of civilization. The Hindu and Muslim worlds did not change under mutual influence. The most unfortunate fact was that the Mughals did not creatively respond to the stimulus of resurgent Europe and there was hardly any vigour in the economy and scant spirit of enterprise among the people. There was no ferment of ideas and Indian practices remained archaic. The apathy to novel ideas was so shocking that they showed little interest even in European military innovations. Mughal rule also debased the character of man. There was near total absence of civic morality and personal integrity. Hypocrisy and sycophancy were the hallmarks of the Indian ruling class. This is in sharp variance with the description of Indian people and aristocracy given by Fa Xien or Hiuen Tsang a millennium before. Over a quarter of the gross national product of the empire was forcibly appropriated by just 655 individuals while the bulk of its 120 million people lived in abject poverty. Eraly concludes that the contrast between legend and reality was grotesque in Mughal India.

Eraly’s works are a pleasure to read because of the mastery he employs in the narrative that often touches on the poetic. This book quotes liberally from the works of contemporary historians and chroniclers as to make the readers feel closer to the historical personalities. The book is somewhat big, but not a single page is redundant or dispensable. Reading history is immensely enjoyable when the author too rises to the occasion, which Eraly does amply in this work.

The book is highly recommended.

Rating: 4 Star

Breath of Gold

Title: Breath of Gold – Hariprasad Chaurasia
Author: Sathya Saran
Publisher: Penguin Random House, 2019 (First)
ISBN: 9780670092512
Pages: 256

 

Hariprasad Chaurasia is a renowned Indian musician specialized in bansuri, the Indian flute. His fame is spread all over the globe that he is often acknowledged as the voice of Indian classical music. Chaurasia found his mettle in the most improbable family background. His mother died when he was only six, and his wrestler father wanted him to get initiated in the wrestling profession. But the artist in the boy always spilled out in unexpected ways. He tried vocal music at first. Though he failed in singing as he had only a limited range, his teacher advised him to find an instrument that made use of his steady breath. His quest ended with the flute. His talent and job in the All India Radio opened gates for him to perform in the orchestra of Hindi film music headquartered at Mumbai. Chaurasia shot to prominence in no time, but shifted to classical music at the peak of his career in the popular music industry. He established boarding house schools for teaching aspiring students and became very busy in imparting knowledge of Indian music overseas and displaying its charm and verve to foreign audiences. This book tells the story of this maestro who continues to invigorate the Indian mind with his enchanting music. Sathya Saran is a popular biographer who is currently the consulting editor at HarperCollins Publishers. She has several books to her credit.

Saran reproduces Chaurasia’s childhood with direct interviews with the maestro. He was always approachable and did not assume pretensions of holier-than-thou attitude very common among classical Indian musicians. The book showcases a musician willing to perform whenever people demanded it. He was not averse to earn money with his art. This is neither strange nor shameful as all musicians of old had been under the liberal financial umbrella extended by aristocratic patrons. Chaurasia found a job in All India Radio (AIR) which ensured self-sufficiency and a secure tenure. With no help forthcoming from his father to promote his tastes, Chaurasia learnt flute unbeknown to his father. He came to know that his son played flute only on the evening prior to his departure for Cuttack where he was posted by AIR. The job was not time-consuming and he could moonlight in the rich cultural landscape of Odisha’s heartland.

Diverting one’s attention outside one’s full-time job would be noticed, even in a nobody-cares institution such as AIR. The bosses noted with dismay the young musician’s parleys outside the scope his position demanded. They transferred him to Mumbai as punishment but which eventually came out as a blessing in disguise. He was quickly introduced to the Bollywood music industry, His first recording was for a song by the legendary Lata Mangeshkar. Though film music was frowned upon by musical puritans in the south of India, it was not unusual for north’s classical musicians to be part of the orchestra playing for film songs. Even well known, much respected singers from venerable gharanas were sometimes persuaded to lend their voice to celluloid. Huge fees were usually involved in such instances. Bade Ghulam Ali Khan once charged Rs. 25,000 for a single song when the going rate was only Rs. 250 to 1000. Chaurasia soon got busy with playing flute and composing music for film songs. He was earning more money than his job gave him, and he was busy with what he loved best – music. Soon he quit the job.

Chaurasia’s conquest of Bollywood music was so fast that he became the staple of recording studios across the country. Saran narrates all this with the lucidity of a movie script where the hero ascends the steps to fame steadily. Almost every song had an interlude by him. Even in films where the flute cannot be included in the music, they found ways to add in a composition in the background score. His cooperative spirit was plainly visible when he teamed up with santoor maestro Shivkumar Sharma, a close family friend, to provide combined performances. This became an instant hit and the duo became famous under the sobriquet ‘Shiv-Hari’.

The book coherently narrates the shift in Chaurasia’s career when he decided to change track to classical music at the peak of his fame. He decided to learn from scratch, but finding a master was a serious problem. Who would venture to ‘teach’ a flute maestro whose reputation had spread even across the nation’s frontiers? Chaurasia found such a guru in Annapurna Devi, daughter of Ustad Allauddin Khan and first wife of Pandit Ravi Shankar. After her estrangement with Shankar, she became a recluse and never performed in public again. Moreover, she was a surbahar (bass sitar) player who did not know how to play flute. Against these heavy odds, Chaurasia became a disciple and learnt Hindustani classical music. As in any field, hard work and perseverance would pay handsomely in music too. He spent many years learning and acquired a depth of knowledge which he used to create his own style and musical vocabulary. He learned to speak with the flute and reach out to touch the hearts of his audience. Saran includes some interesting anecdotes of Annapurna Devi’s mercurial temper. She disliked disciples arguing with her and once banged a tanpura on Chaurasia’s head when he disagreed with what she said. His humility and obedience to the guru became known immediately. He picked up the pieces, wrapped them carefully and placed them at her feet with the utmost respect.

Readers note with pleasant appreciation Chaurasia’s willingness to freely associate with western musicians and perform fusion music that combined the good traits from both streams. He staged recitals in many cities of Europe and the US. He opened training academies where foreign students could learn Indian classical music without upsetting their formal studies. If they were still desirous to pursue music study after an introductory spell, they could come to India to learn from the horse’s mouth at the Gurukul institutions in Mumbai or Bhubaneswar. The latter facility was a return gift to Odisha, the state that had set him on his real journey to classical music. Chaurasia always proclaimed that he wanted to raise a generation of musicians.

The book is adorned with a foreword by Ustad Amjad Ali Khan and a prelude by Ustad Zakir Hussain who compares him to the eleventh avatar of Vishnu to spread happiness among the listeners. Chaurasia has produced many recitals based on popular themes. This book contains several chapters that are excellent accompaniments to the albums, especially his magnum opus ‘The Call of the Valley’. This implores the readers to search for the music on internet and Saran’s neat description helps them a lot to better appreciate the music that permeates with the beauty and spirit of Kashmir Valley in its every note. The book includes some nice photographs illustrating a few memorable moments of the maestro’s career. The book should have included a glossary for lay readers who are not conversant with the technical terms of Hindustani music. The terms gharana and riyaz immediately come to mind as I had to look them up elsewhere. The composition of the book is primarily based on personal interviews of Chaurasia and his family members. This precludes any chance of serious criticism, but the author has been candid enough to express that Chaurasia has two wives and the family gets on well, contrary to popular perceptions about such a set up!

The book is highly recommended.

Rating: 3 Star