<p>It is not easy to believe that this is only the second book of journalist Palagummi Sainath. His first, the iconic book on rural reportage, Everybody Loves a Good Drought, was published more than two decades ago. While this comes after a long break (or long drought), Sainath was never absent. He has been marking his presence through his regular writing and his talks, raising issues and speaking truth to power. He continues his passion for rural reportage but has moved on from just writing about the agrarian crisis to the much larger canvas of rural distress. Also, through the Peoples Archives of Rural India (PARI), he has been involved in the documentation of rural cultural practices, art, languages, songs and oral history. The current book is a byproduct of this continuing passion.</p>.<p>With this book, Sainath tries to fill the gaps in our history. This is a small part of the larger work undertaken by PARI. Given that we are in the 75th year of attaining independence (and not freedom as one of the protagonists says in the book) there is an occasion for these pieces to be published as a book. The documentation is rich, done over multiple visits and conversations with the protagonists, and with triangulation from other sources. It documents aspects of the freedom struggle, which may miss the attention of historians basing their work on available documentation and archives. An earlier effort of documenting the oral history of the women in the Telangana Peoples’ Struggle ‘We Were Making History’ was also an interesting initiative. Mallu Swarajyam, who has a chapter dedicated to her in that book, makes an appearance here as well.</p>.<p>The stories in the book are fascinating — each story has an interpretation of the independence movement. Hausabai Patil stages a fake event to help loot a police station to pick up arms, and Captain Bhau of the Toofan Sena loots a train to fund an alternate government, Prati Sarkar, much before the formal declaration of independence. Thelu and Lokkhi Mahato organise a march to 12 police stations at the end of September 1942 as a part of the Quit India Movement — nonchalantly explaining that even though the call for the movement was given on August 8, they got the news late and took time to organise themselves! Many stories do not fit into the mainstream narrative of the freedom struggle. Each freedom fighter had their own interpretation of the movement and undertook myriad activities, which contributed to the larger narrative, not necessarily heeding the message of non-cooperation and non-violence.</p>.<p>This documentation was done over decades as Sainath moved around the countryside meeting several people, extracting their personal stories, and creating a narrative. Each story has a QR code, which takes the reader to more material and additional documentation, demonstrating that the freedom movement was a movement of common people in general and the farming community in particular.</p>.<p>The only problem with the book and Sainath’s style of writing is the duality in his approach to a story. He celebrates the protagonists and their involvement while complaining about the State policies. While this is valid in case of agrarian distress, one wonders if there is really a systemic failure of the State in this context. Why is the recognition of the protagonists as ‘freedom fighters’ by the Sarkar, and the issues with attendant benefits of a pension so important to this narrative?</p>.<p>It is important to mark this aspect (and for a change) to be sympathetic to the State. The monolith of a State will have to lay down objectively verifiable criteria to recognise freedom fighters to provide pensions. That may include serving a prison sentence; some paper trail that helps in formal recognition. While what Sainath argues is true — that women who were not jailed but were in the background and actively participated in both the frontline and supportive roles also fought for independence, would the State be able to accord a recognition? All these stories qualify for such recognition, but some may be difficult to justify on objective criteria. The second aspect that puts the reader off is the frequent reference to PARI and its good work, in a self-congratulatory tone. These are minor points to quibble on, given the significance of capturing the oral history of a generation of freedom fighters, a segment of our seniors who are fast disappearing. The book is a valuable contribution to the 75th year of independence, and arguably, is a much better way to celebrate the milestone than the <span class="italic">indulgent display of pomp and show we were witness to.</span></p>.<p><em><span class="italic">(The reviewer is Chairperson at the Centre for Public Policy, Indian Institute of Management, Bengaluru, and a Kannada author. He has six books of fiction and five books of essays to his credit.)</span></em></p>
<p>It is not easy to believe that this is only the second book of journalist Palagummi Sainath. His first, the iconic book on rural reportage, Everybody Loves a Good Drought, was published more than two decades ago. While this comes after a long break (or long drought), Sainath was never absent. He has been marking his presence through his regular writing and his talks, raising issues and speaking truth to power. He continues his passion for rural reportage but has moved on from just writing about the agrarian crisis to the much larger canvas of rural distress. Also, through the Peoples Archives of Rural India (PARI), he has been involved in the documentation of rural cultural practices, art, languages, songs and oral history. The current book is a byproduct of this continuing passion.</p>.<p>With this book, Sainath tries to fill the gaps in our history. This is a small part of the larger work undertaken by PARI. Given that we are in the 75th year of attaining independence (and not freedom as one of the protagonists says in the book) there is an occasion for these pieces to be published as a book. The documentation is rich, done over multiple visits and conversations with the protagonists, and with triangulation from other sources. It documents aspects of the freedom struggle, which may miss the attention of historians basing their work on available documentation and archives. An earlier effort of documenting the oral history of the women in the Telangana Peoples’ Struggle ‘We Were Making History’ was also an interesting initiative. Mallu Swarajyam, who has a chapter dedicated to her in that book, makes an appearance here as well.</p>.<p>The stories in the book are fascinating — each story has an interpretation of the independence movement. Hausabai Patil stages a fake event to help loot a police station to pick up arms, and Captain Bhau of the Toofan Sena loots a train to fund an alternate government, Prati Sarkar, much before the formal declaration of independence. Thelu and Lokkhi Mahato organise a march to 12 police stations at the end of September 1942 as a part of the Quit India Movement — nonchalantly explaining that even though the call for the movement was given on August 8, they got the news late and took time to organise themselves! Many stories do not fit into the mainstream narrative of the freedom struggle. Each freedom fighter had their own interpretation of the movement and undertook myriad activities, which contributed to the larger narrative, not necessarily heeding the message of non-cooperation and non-violence.</p>.<p>This documentation was done over decades as Sainath moved around the countryside meeting several people, extracting their personal stories, and creating a narrative. Each story has a QR code, which takes the reader to more material and additional documentation, demonstrating that the freedom movement was a movement of common people in general and the farming community in particular.</p>.<p>The only problem with the book and Sainath’s style of writing is the duality in his approach to a story. He celebrates the protagonists and their involvement while complaining about the State policies. While this is valid in case of agrarian distress, one wonders if there is really a systemic failure of the State in this context. Why is the recognition of the protagonists as ‘freedom fighters’ by the Sarkar, and the issues with attendant benefits of a pension so important to this narrative?</p>.<p>It is important to mark this aspect (and for a change) to be sympathetic to the State. The monolith of a State will have to lay down objectively verifiable criteria to recognise freedom fighters to provide pensions. That may include serving a prison sentence; some paper trail that helps in formal recognition. While what Sainath argues is true — that women who were not jailed but were in the background and actively participated in both the frontline and supportive roles also fought for independence, would the State be able to accord a recognition? All these stories qualify for such recognition, but some may be difficult to justify on objective criteria. The second aspect that puts the reader off is the frequent reference to PARI and its good work, in a self-congratulatory tone. These are minor points to quibble on, given the significance of capturing the oral history of a generation of freedom fighters, a segment of our seniors who are fast disappearing. The book is a valuable contribution to the 75th year of independence, and arguably, is a much better way to celebrate the milestone than the <span class="italic">indulgent display of pomp and show we were witness to.</span></p>.<p><em><span class="italic">(The reviewer is Chairperson at the Centre for Public Policy, Indian Institute of Management, Bengaluru, and a Kannada author. He has six books of fiction and five books of essays to his credit.)</span></em></p>