The third morning, we woke up again to the call of the bugle. I had hoped that I would have been inside by now, responding to the call and doing what the other Ranis do. That was not to be. ‘Will we gain entry, Lakhmi?’ Nakul asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. ‘If not, what’ll we do next?’
I dreaded this question — what next? — but I couldn’t let Nakul know I was scared and disappointed. I had to make him think not joining wasn’t a big deal. I remembered asking Ma–Baba if we could go off to India on a ship like the others. I don’t think they had enough money for the fare, but Ma didn’t say that. Instead, she said, ‘A voyage by ship is one of the most unpleasant experiences. Passengers are tossed and thrown by the waves, their stomach churns and people vomit. By the time you reach the shore, you are drained and weak.’
I had to come up with something similar. ‘We’ve been watching them for three days, but they haven’t gone to fight anyone the whole time. They hardly come out. This army camp is like a prison! It’s best we don’t get in.’
‘But they have food,’ Nakul replied.
‘The food isn’t great. The dal they gave us yesterday was so watery and the rice grains so thick and hard. Let’s leave.’
Nakul hadn’t given up. ‘Let me sleep a little more, Lakhmi, and dream a little more. I’m trying to see Ma– Baba and Ma’s dalma in my mind.’
I knew I had to try one more time. This time, I’d let go of all my politeness.
‘What if I change my approach?’ I thought. I climbed a mango tree to get a good view. I was now looking over the walls of the camp. Something unusual caught my eye. I may not have known what the usual routine at the camp was, but I could sense that something was different today. Everyone was rushing around, with some people barking orders at others.
Whenever there’s a break from the routine, people become tense and easily irritated. There’s a sense of urgency in the air. People will run around, getting things done. And then there’ll be one person who’s so tense that they simply run around pretending to work. I used to see this happen whenever there was a big gora saheb that would come to visit and inspect the work on the railway lines. It was similar here.
Some Ranis were drawing lines with chalk powder on the ground, some were setting up chairs, a couple were setting up the dais. One Rani was all over the place, carrying a vase of wild flowers and chatting non-stop to the other Ranis, probably asking what needed to be done next. Another Rani was running around so much to finish things that she was creating a bigger mess for herself along the way. She crashed into the chairs, which fell down and had to be picked up. She then missed a step, tumbled down from the dais and crashed into a potted plant, which broke. Now, the mud and the broken pot had to be cleaned up. It was a bit funny watching the chaos, but it told me someone important was visiting.
I stayed up in the tree, waiting for signs of any new arrivals. Then, from a distance, I spotted a black motor car heading our way. I quickly slid down the tree trunk and rushed to the middle of the road, just in time to come face to face with the car and wave to stop it. The guards at the gate shouted, ‘Get out! Get off the road!’ I pretended not to hear and stood still. The car came to a screeching halt. I’ve always loved the sound of a screeching car. Kee … kee … keech! The driver, who was in INA uniform, immediately stepped out, absolutely fuming. ‘Have you lost your mind? What’s wrong with you? If I hadn’t managed to stop the car, do you know what would have happened?’ If this had been a magical story like the ones Ma would tell us, arrows of fire would have shot out from his eyes, turning me into ashes. The driver was so angry that I wondered for a moment if he really was going to shoot arrows at me, but just then, I heard a strong yet calm voice. ‘This stunt that you pulled off could have got you killed. Yet, I am impressed with your courage.’
The man stepped out of the car. He wore khaki uniform, jodhpurs, a tilted cap and round glasses. He had no stars or stripes on his shoulders or on his arms. But he commanded respect and all. The soldiers who had gathered around us and also those at the gate stood at attention. ‘Leave the child,’ he ordered the guard who was holding me.
‘Ji, Netaji,’ the guard replied.
In conversation with the author
1. What inspired you to write Laxmi Panda?
In 2008 while I was a journalist in Bangalore, a young man came to my office with some papers. He was Probin Raj Patro, Laxmi Panda’s grandson. He was visiting newspaper offices telling his grandmother’s story. Laxmi was trying to get the freedom fighter’s pension. In the meanwhile she was working as a domestic help to make ends meet. Couple of months later the then President Pratibha Patil invited Laxmi to Rashtrapati Bhavan and later conferred the Rashtriya Swatantrata Sainik Samman on her. Two weeks after that, Laxmi Panda breathed her last. On hearing this, my heart sank. The recognition had come a little too late. She deserved much more during her lifetime. I felt that her story, the story of a brave 14-year old spy of the INA had to be told.
2. What can kids expect from the book?
The book tells a story of resilience, survival, courage and patriotism. Through this book children learn about the valour and advebtures of 14-year-old spy, Laxmi Panda. They can know more about World War II, the Indian National Army and their campaign against the British.
3. What are your top three book recommendations for young readers?
- Wonder by R L Palacio
- No Nonsense Nandhini by Aparna Karthikeyan
- It has no name by Payal Dhar