'A Testament to Sacrifice'
"Open your textbooks to page number 40. We'll begin with Nationalism in India," Miss Molly instructed.
I had read the entire lesson before and was ready to read it again. It was an interesting chapter.
"It all started with the arrival of M.K. Gandhi in 1915..." she continued.
Though I know, it started way before that. There are important dates, I agree. But the process of people coming together, planning, the feelings which are born through united struggle is also a part of history. Any ways, that's how it was in my text book.
I flipped the pages. There were black and white photographs of a bygone era. Women, men and children had come out onto the streets. They had raised slogans about freedom and Simon Commission. There has always been something about the old pictures which makes me want to jump into them.
"Sayee Bhakare? Are you there?"
I was still thinking about the pictures.
"Sayee! Are you not paying attention?"
"Yes ma'am!"
"Great!" she said scornfully.
My silly classmates began sending the LOL reactions and as for Miss Molly , she began giving me a piece of her mind.
It's rude to interrupt someone. Now, I didn't know how to tell her that I was paying attention...to the photographs.
""Which are the movements we'll be studying about?" she asked after the 'piece of mind' was over.
" Non Co-operation and Civil Disobedience Movement," someone replied.
The class went on.
I suddenly remembered that my father had once told me about this grandfather who was a freedom fighter too. I wanted to know more but he didn't know much. He suggested that I ask my grand father since he had seen the struggle unfold first hand.
I glanced at my watch. It was 10:45 am. An hour more! The next class was Maths. I was restless through out.
As soon as the Thank yous ended, I called up my grand father.
" Namaskar Ajoba." I greeted.
"Aashirvaad."
After enquiring out the general topics of health and weather, I asked him about the story.
" I was a small kid- about four or five years. My brothers and sisters weren't born then. My father, your great grandfather, was very much inspired by Gandhi ji's call. He participated in protests, burnt foreign cloth..."
"Which movement was it?"
"Quit India Movement." he replied and continued," Then he was put behind the bars. I didn't see much of him for two years. My mother looked after me. She would try to visit him even though they turned her down many times. It must have been , of course, very difficult. After all, I was so young."
"They didn't harm him, I hope." I said silently.
"It was jail. What can you expect? They must have beaten up and tortured him and others. But he was a very brave man."
"Yes," I said.
"After the Independence, the government presented him with a tambra patra ( a bronze plate). It had these words- Amrut Rao Tatyaji Bhakare, Swatantra Sainik . It must be some where..."
"Where? I would like to see it. Was it framed?"
"I don't remember. Everything is so hazy now. After all ,I'm old now." he chuckled. Although he is 83, yet he sounds young whenever he speaks of the old days.
"The boys would have it now. "
"The boys?" I asked.
"I mean my younger brothers. They look after the ancestral home. I came here to pursue my career. My father was proud of the plate."
"Oh, I would love to see it someday."
"It would probably require a searching expedition."
"Probably," I said half- dreamily.
I felt proud to be the descendant of a freedom fighter. Now, I understood why I wanted to jump into those black and white pictures. I wanted to thank them for their tireless efforts, for the pain they endured, for the struggle...so that we could be free.
We need to use this freedom to take our nation to new heights. We need to use this gift properly. We need to reminiscence the unsung warriors too, whose names aren't there in our History Text books.
Independence Day, undoubtedly, is a testament to their sacrifices whose debt, can never be repaid.
