Ushaben Malji a Freedom Fighter

The air was electrified by the arpeggios of the Quit India movement in Ahmedabad. The avenues and baroque buildings of Gujarat College wore a deserted look as even professors had sided with the students in the government education blockade. Due to innovative activities and the tacit support of parents, even children began to stop attending schools. Many signs of protests manifested all over. The name of Ushaben Lakhia was inextricably linked to a variety of incidents, peaceful agitation, dissemination of information et al. this was the time that most of the senior leaders were already in gaol, some voluntarily courting arrest and the rest captured on the run.

Meanwhile Ushaben, Rajnibhai my uncle and Madhuri a cousin continued their nocturnal activities, surreptitiously sliding information in and out of the gaol premises and generally making a thorough nuisance of themselves, while constantly keeping a step ahead of the authorities who dogged at their heels. Help and assistance came from all quarters overwhelmingly the people of the city offered food, clothing, shelter and the usage of secret passage to navigate through the nooks and crannies of the old city. It was to protect oneself against Marattha incursions that these elaborate ‘Pol’ maze dynamics had been originally devised and now they stood in good steed.

Meanwhile considering the humiliation suffered by the British during the Gujarat College Flag hoisting incident, the authorities were bent on making an example and the dragnet was gradually pincer like closing in. the desire to meet their mother, go home, to cooked food and a much needed bath finally did them in. carrying subversive periodicals, visiting home in Pritamnagar and my grandmother’s insistence on staying on to have one decent meal, gave the police all the time they needed. By the time the family sat for dinner, thirty policemen along with a van surrounded the locality. Packets of ‘patrikas’ were thrown across the rear wall of the house to be picked up by other group members. The underground printing press was hastily dismantled and its location changed overnight and by early morning news of their arrest had spread through the convoluted spy system devised by themselves.

As they were taken on the van, brother and sister series of cubicle dungeons resembling rows of dingy shop fronts with no ventilation or doors. A young Ushaben was placed with a couple of ‘Chhara women’ who regaled her with scary gossipy tales of scorpions, snakes and other strange behavior of some of the guards. Not a very reassuring situation for a very young nineteen year old, separated from her brother due to prison segregation. It being the weekend, the alleged political agitators could to be produced in court until Monday morning, Usha aunty had heard tales of horrendous experiences in gaols and the gossip of her fellow inmates (all petty criminals) did not help any.

My uncle Rajnibhai on the other hand had to share a cell with a master forger of that time by the name of Chandrkant master, who could in a clinch duplicate any handwriting or even engrave a dye. He was awaiting trial for massive embezzlement fraud and wiled away his time imitating any and everybody’s handwriting.

a nineteen year old girl, my aunt forced by conviction and circumstances to spend a traumatic time in a dank, musty dungeon awaited trial and an eventual transfer to Sabarmati gaol. Hope, help prayers answered, the most amazing miracles all create an aura of magic and that is what happened.

Ushaben’s memories are practically blurred, but the light divine at the end of this tunnel was crystal clear and a vindication of all that they were fighting for. The gaoler , an old man, Hindi speaking smiled reassuringly at the young girl. All at once she felt safe and protected. The watchman exuded goodwill, safety and above all a patina of protection from demons real and imagined.

At the juncture, reality infringed upon us with the arrival of tea. With her eyes moistening, Ushaben described the encounter as it had happened just the other day. ‘The gaoler beckoned me towards him’, she said and said that rest easy,”bitiya rani for I too have a daughter of your age who I have not seen in years, have no worries. My sins have been many and too terrible to tell; it is the presence of all you young Gandhians with the philosophy of non violence that gives my burning soul respite. From all of you I learn and hope that the gods in heaven give me respite.” So saying, he lit an oil lamp, sat himself outside the cell door and began to recite from the Ramayana. He continued far into the night illuminating the gloom and bringing enlightenment and tranquility to a place of torture and pain.

Unsung heros role playing complex characters, redemption, light, hope and the nascent spark of freedom, fascinating chimes, chance encounters and countless unsung heroes following rheir epic destinies.

On the following day as they were escorted to court, Ushaben touched the gaolers feet in reverence and he said, “aa mari kali zindagi no au ujalo diwas, whatever be the outcome remember me!”

Published: Ahmedabad Mirror