Amazing woman, my aunt, Ushaben Malji. An absolutely fascinating life she has led and what stories she weaves. A lazy afternoon, post lunch, sipping tea, a wizened lady, elegant, twinkling positive energy eyes. Sitting up in bed with a sheaf of papers, writing Gujarati long hand, large letters her memories that she begun a couple of years back. A pictorial history of black and white photos abound with surroundings along with knick knacks and mementos of an eventful life, still going strong through eighty five years of Indian history. A remarkably sharp mind, with a child like inquisitiveness and hunger for new knowledge and the desire to know, to learn, the countless intellectual arguments she loves having, discussions galore and she does love to talk.
A childhood spent growing up in Khadia amidst a progressive family, she was enrolled in Ahmedabad’s first co-educational school in Sarangpur, while evenings were spent doing calisthenics at an open ground in Khadia. Due to an outbreak of plague in the city the family shifted across the river bank to the western side of the city. There surrounded by berry bushes, fields and goat herders the family was instrumental in setting up Ahmedabad’s first cooperative society, Pritam Nagar. Its proximity to the Kochrab Ashram and my grandfather’s stern Gandhian outlook, the family compulsorily attended the evening prayers. This was the molting and training ground for a young impressionable girl. The year 1938 saw her joining the Sewa dal which sent her to Haripura for training and work. Not wanting to send a 15 year old girl alone, the family shifted to Haripura for the duration of the Shivir. Ushaben’s hands weave through the air in imaginary brush strokes as she recollects Nandalal Bose and nine artists who had arrived from Santiniketan and were given the task of beautifying the entrance gate. Brushes were in short supply so the artists took neem twigs, tied rags at one end and used them in a symphony of bold lines conducted by Nandalal Bose. Daily chores kept Ushaben extremely busy, hot water for Sarojini Naidu, a special breakfast for Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay, and a host of other mundane jobs besides. The evenings were fun as everybody gathered around campfires, sang patriotic songs, danced and watched activist theatre. At the closure of the Haripura Congress the family returned back and Usha Lakhia was enrolled in Gujarat College as a science student. Gujarat College in those days was at the forefront of political activities.
Leaders such as Jayanti Bhai, Dr Kanunga, and aspiring communists such Jaswant Thakkar and Dinaben Gandhi were among Ushabens peer group. interference in the college union and restriction of acting on stage for women were some of the reasons which fuelled the passions of peaceful rebellions. It was at the peak of the Quit India movement. All the senior leaders were already state guest at the incarceration center at Sabarmati while others were in various stages of hiding. It was left to students to launch a series of peaceful protests culminating in the raising of the Tricolor over what was then known as the George V Hall in the College. A procession of students, boys and girls decided to take out a peaful demonstration to that effect from the Law College to the gate of Gujarat College. A determined twenty year old Ushaben was amongst them with the flag hidden in an inner pocket of her sari to avoid detection. An Indian detachment led by a British officer Drew was on guard. A previous attempt the other day had gone horribly wrong when her companion and friend Vinod Kinariwala was shot and the flag trampled underfoot in the resultant confusion. As he tripped and fell, she reached out and almost touched him, but she was pulled away and apart by the fleeing crowd.
True to Gandhiji’s philosophy the next day an announcement was made that they would succeed were the previous attempt had failed. There were more than fifty girls in the group along with the boys while the boys created a distraction below the girls wound their way up stairs. As Drew gave the order to shoot college professors rushed in and managed to convince the officer to step down. The girls made their way up and Ushaben unfurled the tricolor over the auditorium. In the chaos Ushaben and few others slipped away and Drew’s name was enshrined in history with a newspaper headline which said “Drew Withdrew”.
Suddenly the tone of fervor and determination softened to warmth as Ushaben turned to us and asked whether we would be staying for dinner. As we were getting ready to leave, she had this far away look in her eyes as she said bye and mentioned offhand that “you know it was almost two months before the authorities finally arrested me and I had the privilege of spending an extremely invigorating time at Sabarmati gaol but that is another story.”
Published: Ahmedabad Mirror
Showing posts with label Ushaben Malji a Freedom Fighter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ushaben Malji a Freedom Fighter. Show all posts
May 16, 2008
May 15, 2008
Ushaben Malji, Freedom Fighter
Written History has always highlighted and glorified the achievements of few key personalities. But in the gamut of human experiences through time there are numerous inputs, anecdotes stories and deeds of heroic greatness by so many people. Ushaben Malji, a spunky, energetic 85 year old young woman, whemently advocating and protesting against the demise of the Gujarati language amongst today’s youth is one such person. Her story inextricably linked with the freedom movement in Gujarat and she shines at par with all of those luminaries enshrined in written history.
As she closes Jayanti Thakores memories of a country’s freedom won, Usha Malji’s jigsaw of an incidence flit across the air through patterns gestured by her fingers. “After the inebriated levels of trouble that we were causing the British the inevitability of capture was imminent yet this in fact spurred us on to be more and more daring and also reckless.” After the incident of raising the Indian flag on Gujarat College in August 1942 life at college for my aunt Ushaben and her colleagues had come to an end. After playing a significant role in opposing the British and therefore being pursued by the police she could not very well go back to the college and actually ended up convincing others including professors to boycott the entire institution.
All of a sudden this young woman of nineteen found herself an out log constantly staying one step ahead of arrest by the use of her wits and a lot of luck. The Quit India Movement meanwhile had spread to a major part of the country and the Sabarmati Jail was fast filling up with State guests from various territories of the country. It was Neerubhai Desai and Ramnikbhai Shah who were instrumental in organizing the student brigade of which Ushaben was a part. The clandestine press churning out revolutionary literature was on in full swing, its location being changed every couple of days to avoid detection. Printed copies were collected by groups of students and in the cover of darkness spread across the city like autumn leaf wafting in the breeze. There were times Ushaben transcribed carbon copies of the patrika, hiding them in the folds of her petticoat and sauntering past officials. This apart various bulletins and announcements needed to be imparted. After the patrika distribution boys and girls went out in groups, the former with cans of pitch and brushes and latter with pieces of chalk, while the boys traveled in front creating dark windows on walls with decisive brush strokes, the women followed filling in keybits of information as the paint dried. Ushaben and her maverick band were also assigned the task of mobilizing young children and formulating the prabhatpheri. This was an instant hit with the children as it involved generating a cacophony of sounds to awaken people at wee hours of morning, singing snatches of patriotic songs and generally making a nuisance of themselves for the authorities. The children were a perfect foil to initiate peaceful obstructions as the police could not arrest or use violent methods on minors.
Mobilizing children and restructuring non violent but politically subversive activities into fun filled enterprises was a task in itself. And it is this exposure that made Ushaben opt for a career in education later. Amongst the children the boys were formed into the Vanarsena while the girls group came to be called majarsena. More and more children joined the prabhatpheri in the coming days and along with the college the schools too shut down.
As Ushaaunty recalls, being constantly on the run did take its toll, but the people be the pol residents to waghari and chhara settlements were extremely supportive and these young adults were treated like liberators and heroes wherever they went amongst the common folk. Those were the heady days of adventure, courage and valor, sprinkled with more than their share of danger. In trying to avoid police dragnets, the youngsters used secret pathways and convoluted alleys, broad jumping walls and skirting fences, scuttling across rooftop landscapes and hiding out in fields and bushes plucking berries and fruits.
This nerve racking schedule did definitely take its toll on a fateful night when Ushaben and her younger brother, Rajnikant Lakhia came home to visit their mother and have a much needed bath, my grandmother who was waiting all this time to meet her daughter and son ,insisted that they stay on for dinner. Just as they were sitting for dinner dada (Rajnibhai) heard movements outside and everyone there knew that the game of cat and mouse had finally drawn to a close. Such was the importance being given to this nineteen year old girl that an entire contingent of police had surrounded the house along with a police van. The brother sister activists used their presence of mind and hid away a majority of the printed material they were carrying, but it was no use and they were finally captured two months after the famous Gujarat college incident.
To be continued..
Published: Ahmedabad Mirror
As she closes Jayanti Thakores memories of a country’s freedom won, Usha Malji’s jigsaw of an incidence flit across the air through patterns gestured by her fingers. “After the inebriated levels of trouble that we were causing the British the inevitability of capture was imminent yet this in fact spurred us on to be more and more daring and also reckless.” After the incident of raising the Indian flag on Gujarat College in August 1942 life at college for my aunt Ushaben and her colleagues had come to an end. After playing a significant role in opposing the British and therefore being pursued by the police she could not very well go back to the college and actually ended up convincing others including professors to boycott the entire institution.
All of a sudden this young woman of nineteen found herself an out log constantly staying one step ahead of arrest by the use of her wits and a lot of luck. The Quit India Movement meanwhile had spread to a major part of the country and the Sabarmati Jail was fast filling up with State guests from various territories of the country. It was Neerubhai Desai and Ramnikbhai Shah who were instrumental in organizing the student brigade of which Ushaben was a part. The clandestine press churning out revolutionary literature was on in full swing, its location being changed every couple of days to avoid detection. Printed copies were collected by groups of students and in the cover of darkness spread across the city like autumn leaf wafting in the breeze. There were times Ushaben transcribed carbon copies of the patrika, hiding them in the folds of her petticoat and sauntering past officials. This apart various bulletins and announcements needed to be imparted. After the patrika distribution boys and girls went out in groups, the former with cans of pitch and brushes and latter with pieces of chalk, while the boys traveled in front creating dark windows on walls with decisive brush strokes, the women followed filling in keybits of information as the paint dried. Ushaben and her maverick band were also assigned the task of mobilizing young children and formulating the prabhatpheri. This was an instant hit with the children as it involved generating a cacophony of sounds to awaken people at wee hours of morning, singing snatches of patriotic songs and generally making a nuisance of themselves for the authorities. The children were a perfect foil to initiate peaceful obstructions as the police could not arrest or use violent methods on minors.
Mobilizing children and restructuring non violent but politically subversive activities into fun filled enterprises was a task in itself. And it is this exposure that made Ushaben opt for a career in education later. Amongst the children the boys were formed into the Vanarsena while the girls group came to be called majarsena. More and more children joined the prabhatpheri in the coming days and along with the college the schools too shut down.
As Ushaaunty recalls, being constantly on the run did take its toll, but the people be the pol residents to waghari and chhara settlements were extremely supportive and these young adults were treated like liberators and heroes wherever they went amongst the common folk. Those were the heady days of adventure, courage and valor, sprinkled with more than their share of danger. In trying to avoid police dragnets, the youngsters used secret pathways and convoluted alleys, broad jumping walls and skirting fences, scuttling across rooftop landscapes and hiding out in fields and bushes plucking berries and fruits.
This nerve racking schedule did definitely take its toll on a fateful night when Ushaben and her younger brother, Rajnikant Lakhia came home to visit their mother and have a much needed bath, my grandmother who was waiting all this time to meet her daughter and son ,insisted that they stay on for dinner. Just as they were sitting for dinner dada (Rajnibhai) heard movements outside and everyone there knew that the game of cat and mouse had finally drawn to a close. Such was the importance being given to this nineteen year old girl that an entire contingent of police had surrounded the house along with a police van. The brother sister activists used their presence of mind and hid away a majority of the printed material they were carrying, but it was no use and they were finally captured two months after the famous Gujarat college incident.
To be continued..
Published: Ahmedabad Mirror
May 14, 2008
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
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
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