By Asad ur Rahman
Independence and freedom for India was a dream that I grew up on. I was deeply influenced by the two years or so I spent as an elementary class student at Jamia Millia Islamia, then in Karol Bagh, Delhi. Jamia’s patron was Mahatma Gandhi and its head, Dr. Zakir Husain. So patriotism became an integral part of my personality.
In Calcutta, when I was in Class VIII and, barely a teenager I joined Netaji Subhash Bose’s movement against the Black Hole monument. In Delhi in 1945, then in high school, I worked as a Congress Party volunteer in the election of Mr. Asif Ali for a seat in the Central Assembly. In 1947 I was spending my summer vacation with my childhood friend Khalid Ansari and his family on June 3rd we heard the announcement of the British Government that India will become independent on 15th August and Pakistan will be created a day earlier. The announcement caused a wave of jubilation among us, but also a sense of apprehension.
This apprehension resulted from the intermittent rioting that was going on between Hindus and Muslims, mainly in northern India. The large scale riots in Calcutta and the Bihar riots retaliation caused much worry in the country. The summer of 1947 was the time of feverish political activity and also increasing rioting and bloodshed. The Punjab flared up also both in the western part that was to become part of Pakistan and the eastern part that was to become Indian territory. Rioting spread to nearby areas of Delhi. But in my college, St. Stephen’s College of Delhi University, the atmosphere was cheerful.
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Black Hole pertains to the story that a British officer wrote and publicised. The story was that Sirajuddaulah, Nawab of Bengal attacked the Fort William of the British East India Company and defeated the British who ran most ignobly (even according to British writers). The story says that he forced about a hundred British men and women into one room and as a result most of them died. This story was concocted to justify the treacherous attack on Sirajuddaulah and his subsequent defeat at the Battle of Plassey in 1757. The British Govt. built a beautiful marble monument, with sweet angels, at Dalhousie Square in Calcutta. Subhash Bose called it “a lie” and demanded that it should be removed. So he started an agitation, a movement for the removal of the monument that he called ” Halwell Monument” after the British officer , John Halwell.
Indian protesters marched in processions to try to reach the monument and destroy it. They were arrested before they got there. I was about 13 when I marched in one procession, shouting slogans, arrived at the site and suddenly found myself standing almost alone. The others had deserted and fled. I stood, by myself, tired and sweaty and hungry under the big clock of Limton Watch Company, alone and bewildered. An uncle happened to pass by, he saw me, grabbed me by the arm and took me home. When my mother saw me, she rebuked me for cutting school and for being so bedraggled and unkempt. |
Our college was preparing for the great day which was about to come soon. A select group of students had started practicing the singing of the national anthem. I was one of them. I still remember a few lines of the anthem. Mr. Raja Ram, our principal, announced in the assembly hall that he had a national flag dyed in the three colours on one piece of fabric, so that the three separate strips of yellow, white and green did not have to be stitched together. Chairs were neatly arranged on the front lawn and the flagstaff was a gleaming white. The flag hoisting ceremony was to be at 7’o clock in the morning.
Nehru giving the “Tryst with destiny” speech
The evening before everyone was glued to the radios in groups listening to live commentaries about what was happening at the vice-regal house. After dinner, several of us stood by the hedge of our tutor, Mr. Ardesheshiah’s house listening to the commentary. He noticed us and invited us into his house. We listened to the commentary, our excitement rose as the hour of midnight approached. The emotion was too strong for me. The only way I could express it was to read the Quran. I went to my room quietly. I read it in a hectic, breathless way, my heart pounding. Suddenly two of my closest friends burst into the room and said “you can read the Quran later, it is only 10 minutes to go, come and listen quickly.” I dashed with them to Mr. Ardesheshiah’s house and heard only the last few sentences of Nehru’s speech. We hugged each other, shook hands as the historical hour struck at 12. Some of us were crying. All over the hostel, students came out of the rooms on to the lawns. There was an unbelievable sense of serene happiness.
Next morning, we all gathered on the front lawn. We sang the national anthem with zeal and emotion. Mr. Raja Ram made a good speech. The flag was unfurled. The colours ran into each other because it had rained the previous night. People said the Indian communities are embracing each other.
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Born to a molvi family of zamindars of scholars and sufis, in small town of Moradabad district in U.P, Asad ur Rahman did his MA in English at Aligarh Muslim University in 1951. After doing the English Tripos at Cambridge University in 1958 and teaching at AMU for some time, he moved to New York in 1968 teaching English at Brooklyn College of the City University of New York. He retried in 1996.