Dream of Freedom

 1806, Medinipur, Eastern India.

A mockery of justice went on for a few hours. The judgement was written even before the trial began. The sentence was, "Death by hanging"-another joke.

Four strong men, carrying two thick ropes descended from two opposite ends of the giant Banyan tree. One end of both the ropes were tied to two thick branches of the tree. That's why they needed the hefty men. They pulled the ropes with great force, till the branches creaked due to the tension built up. The other end of the ropes awaited their destination, the ankles of the "convict". Eyewitnesses say, he did not flinch even a little when the pehlwaans fastened the ropes to his feet. Instead, he was heard reciting calmly a sloka from Bira Saptapadi. 

The branches swung- two mighty branches of an angry Banyan tree carrying with them a piece each of the bravest son of Utkala, Jayi Rajguru, the architect of the first martial uprising against the tyranny of the Gora.

Thus Odisha lost its independence to the treachery and gun powder of the foreign "Businessmen". 

Only to leave behind an angry Buxi Jagabandhu to raise his head in revolt during the 1817 Paika Bidroha. And what a rising it was!

Village folk, common farmers followed their enraged General, Buxi Jagabandhu into the first major armed rebellion against the British, which saw the systematic elimination of foreign control over many princely states in East India, even though for a brief period. The Gora didn't know what hit them. Their armed convoys were being attacked by tribals, common people wielding spears and swords. The time the Gora took to load their Bayonets was enough to make heads roll. 

The Paika sword flew in anger. Jayi Rajguru was avenged many times over. The scarlet water from the severed veins of the British mixed with the boiling crimson blood of the brave Paika. The scarlet evaporated.

1857 followed. 

Subhash happened.

Bhagat Singh smiled when the Gora delivered the sentence.

The "frocks" the Gora wore slowly began to wet, sometimes from sweat and sometime from urine. 

Beginning with the ferocity of the tribes of Odisa, the unmatched bravery of the Sikh men and even kids, the strategic ingenuousness of one man to raise an entire army right under the pink noses of the "businessmen"- the signs were ominous.

World wars happened. 

Gandhi struck the hammer too.

Had it not been for the shortsightedness of a few ambitious dynasty-oriented UK-educated Indian leaders, today the stories of Buxi Jagabandhu and Jayi Rajguru would be told in the valley of Quetta.

The shrewd master drew one last line before jumping onto his boat to his island of potatoes, a line that would continue to draw blood for generations to come. The blood of descendants of the very Sikh, Paika, Gurkha, Maratha, Rajput, Madrasi who shed their own to keep us free. 

Their dream came true, even if at a great cost. 

Now it is ours to keep alive.

Jai Hind!