Bengalis must end Netaji worship, instead honour women revolutionaries

My grandfather was an avid reader. Ami Subhash Bolchi was one book that always stayed by his bedside. It was his Bible.

Bapi, as I called him, inducted himself into the freedom movement as a teenager. He had two heroes – "Masterda", Surya Sen, who was famous for spearheading the 1930 Chittagong raid. The other man he worshipped – much like every Bengali household till date – was undoubtedly Subhas Chandra Bose.

If I remember correctly, there was always anger in Bapi’s weathered eyes when he would talk about Netaji. He would insist that Netaji's death was a national lie.

I too liked Netaji. The prospect that he could be still alive seemed to make him a bigger idol for a young girl.

"Who killed him Bapi?" I would ask, interrupting his passionate retelling of the making of Azad Hind Fauj.

Two days ago, when I read about the 64 secret files on Netaji being declassified by the West Bengal government, raising not just the same kind of questions over his death in a plane crash in 1945, Taipei, but also stirring the deep angst the people of this state have over the extent of surveillance his family was placed under, I almost felt my childhood afternoons coming alive.

The manner in which newspapers and television channels in Kolkata, where I am now, are spewing various conspiracy theories, rejecting the crash theory, has, in my opinion, gone way overboard.

The proud Bengali that I am, I can't help but ask why we can't move beyond Satyajit Ray, Rabindranath Tagore and Netaji. Is our regional pride and sense of jingoism limited only to men? Dead men?

Why does West Bengal lack female icons who can be part of a national TV debate, a living room conversation, a newspaper column – who can justify our place in India’s history of a bloodied revolution against the British? Women who were ahead of their times? Did their bravery mean nothing eventually? Have we banished them from the so-called "Bong populism", sentimentality and consciousness on purpose? Where have the women freedom fighters from Bengal disappeared?

And would we witness the same hullabaloo if Matangini Hazra went missing?

I mean, let’s face it, chances are you may not have even heard of her name. Right?

Even in Kolkata, except a lone statue near the Maidan and frayed history textbooks, what’s left of her contribution?

How many papers today acknowledge that Matangini Hazra, daughter of a poor peasant, lacking a formal education, married off early and was widowed at 18, childless, and became a martyr at 71? Having led a procession of 6,000 supporters, mostly women volunteers, with the aim of taking over the Tamluk police station, and been shot at three times?

“Matangini led one procession from the north of the criminal court building; even after the firing commenced, she continued to advance with the tricolour flag, leaving all the volunteers behind. The police shot her three times. She continued marching despite wounds on the forehead and both hands,” the Biplabi newspaper of the parallel Tamluk National government had reported of her valiant end.

Ever heard of Bina Das? A student of a top missionary school in the city, she fearlessly shot then Bengal governor Stanley Jackson at the Convocation Hall of University of Calcutta. For this she was sentenced to nine years' imprisonment, and subsequently joined the Quit India movement for which she was again sentenced for three years.

Last year in January, the West Bengal State Archives, from secret IB documents and CID files, unearthed details about 173 women who actively participated in the freedom struggle in the early part of the 20th century from undivided Bengal - 11 belonged to Kolkata, reported a leading national daily.

“After lots of research work we have been able to find names of 173 women who not only participated in the freedom struggle but they were convicted by the British government. They were part of the freedom struggle between 1920 to 1940. There were many more who supported the movement but was not jailed or convicted by the British government. Those names don’t figure in the list,” Srimonti Sen, director of West Bengal state archives, was quoted as saying.

Convenient?

How come we made no noise then?

Take the example of Kalyani Das who joined the Bengal Volunteer Corps organised by Netaji during the Congress session in 1928-29, becoming the vice president of the All Bengal Students Association. She was arrested on September 5, 1933 and moved to Hijli jail and then Midnapore jail, and was kept in home domicile in 1937. She was released unconditionally in April 1938.

Or consider Prabhat Nalini Mitra, another close associate of Das, arrested by the British government for participating in the Civil Disobedience movement and for her alleged involvement in anti-government activities. She was convicted on March 18, 1934 and died of tuberculosis at Dum Dum in 1935. Kamala Chatterjee, Ila Sen, Lila Roy, Lilawati Verma, Prabhabhati Dasgupta, Sujata Datta, Sulata Kar and Lila Kumbli were all convicted, but somehow, they never find their rightful place in public memory or historical memoirs.

Does a woman’s patriotism always come at a high price? What if there were more than 173 women? What if we failed as a sex to remember each one?