Women in the Indian National Movement: Unseen Faces and Unheard Voices, 1930-42 [1 ed.] 0761934065, 9780761934066

Table of contents :
Cover
Contents
List of Tables and Figures
Foreword
Acknowledgements
List of Abbreviations
Introduction
Chapter 1 Theoretical Engagements and Disengagements
Chapter 2 Political Environment in India
Chapter 3 Private Values and Public Lives
Chapter 4 The Colonial Prison
Chapter 5 Politicisation of the Domestic Sphere
Chapter 6 Re-negotiating the Boundaries of Identity and Domesticity
Conclusion
Glossary
Bibliography
Index
About the Author

Citation preview

WOMEN IN THE INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT

WOMEN IN THE INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT Unseen Faces and Unheard Voices, 1930–42

Suruchi Thapar-Björkert

SAGE Publications

New Delhi • Thousand Oaks • London

Copyright © Suruchi Thapar-Björkert, 2006 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Copyright © Suruchi Thapar-Björkert, 2006 First published in 2006 by All rights reserved. No part of thisIndia book mayLtd be reproduced or utilised in any SAGE Publications Sage PublicationsPvt India Pvt Ltd form or byB1/I-1 any means, or Industrial mechanical, including photocopying, Mohanelectronic Cooperative Area B-42, Panchsheel Enclave recording orMathura by any information storage110 or 044, retrieval system, without permisRoad, New Delhi India New Delhi 110 017 sion in writing from the publisher. www.sagepub.in www.indiasage.com SAGE Publications Inc First published in 2006 by Sage Publications Sage Publications Ltd 2455 Teller Road Inc. 2455 Teller Road 1 Oliver’s Yard, 55 City Road ThousandSage Oaks, California 91320, Publications IndiaUSA Pvt Ltd Thousand Oaks, California 91320 London EC1Y 1SP B-42, Panchsheel Enclave SAGE Publications Ltd New 1 Oliver’s Yard, 55 CityDelhi Road110 017 www.indiasage.com Published by Tejeshwar Singh for Sage Publications India Pvt Ltd, typeset in London EC1Y 1SP, United Kingdom 10/13 Aldine 401BT by Siva Math Setters, Chennai and printed at Chaman SAGE Publications Ltd Sage Publications Inc.Asia-Pacific SagePte Publications Ltd Enterprises, New Delhi. 3 Church 2455 Street Teller Road 1 Oliver’s Yard, 55 City Road #10-04 Samsung Hub Thousand California 91320 London EC1Y Library ofOaks, Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data 1SP Singapore 049483 Thapar-Björkert, Suruchi, 1966– Published by Vivek Mehra for SAGE Publications India PvtPvt Ltd,Ltd, typeset in in Tejeshwar Singh for Sage Publications India typeset Women in the Indian national movement : unseen faces and unheard voices, 10/13 Aldine Aldine 401BT by Siva Siva Math MathSetters, Setters,Chennai. Chennai and printed at Chaman 1930–42 / Suruchi Thapar-Björkert. Enterprises, New Delhi. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data 1. Women in politics—India—History—20th century. 2. Women—India— Social conditions. 3. Nationalism—India—History. 4. India—Politics and Thapar-Björkert, Suruchi, 1966– government—1919–1947. 5. India—History—British occupation, 1765–1947. Women in the Indian national movement : unseen faces and unheard voices, I. Title. 1930–42 / Suruchi Thapar-Björkert. p. cm. HQ1742.T45 324.082095409′043—dc22 2005 2005024514 Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Women in politics—India—History—20th century. 2. Women—India— ISBN: 0–7619–3406–5 (Hb) 81–7829–545–8 (India-Hb) Social conditions. 3. Nationalism—India—History. 4. India—Politics and 0–7619–3407–3 (Pb) 81–7829–546–6 (India-Pb) government—1919–1947. 5. India—History—British occupation, 1765–1947. I. Title. HQ1742.T45 324.082095409′043—dc22 2005 2005024514 Sage Production Team: Ankush Saikia, Ashok R. Chandran, Mathew P.J., and Rawat (PB)Santosh81–7829–545–8 ISBN: 978-07-619-3406-6 0–7619–3406–5 (Hb) (India-Hb) 0–7619–3407–3 (Pb)

81–7829–546–6 (India-Pb)

Sage Production Team: Ankush Saikia, Ashok R. Chandran, Mathew P.J., and Santosh Rawat

n any ying, rmis-

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dia— and 1947.

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Dedicated to those women whose destinies were inextricably entwined with the political realities of their time. But who were never seen or heard beyond the four walls of their homes.

CONTENTS

List of Tables and Figures Foreword by Zoya Hasan Acknowledgements List of Abbreviations

9 11 15 17

INTRODUCTION

19

Chapter One THEORETICAL ENGAGEMENTS AND DISENGAGEMENTS

40

Chapter Two POLITICAL ENVIRONMENT IN INDIA

54

Chapter Three PRIVATE VALUES AND PUBLIC LIVES: THE DOMESTICATION OF PUBLIC PARTICIPATION

69

Chapter Four THE COLONIAL PRISON

140

Chapter Five POLITICISATION OF THE DOMESTIC SPHERE

170

Chapter Six RE-NEGOTIATING THE BOUNDARIES OF IDENTITY AND DOMESTICITY

217

CONCLUSION

261

Glossary Bibliography Index About the Author

265 271 296 305

LIST

OF

TABLES

AND

FIGURES

Tables 3.1 Total Convictions in connection with the Civil Disobedience Movement of 1932 3.2 Details of Actual Salt Making

71–72 108

4.1 Number of Arrests under Ordinary Law and Ordinance (December 1931–January 1932) 4.2 Ordinances Passed in 1930

144 149

6.1 Number of Women in the Educational System in India (1923–24 to 1928–29)

224

Figures 0.1 Raj Kumari Gupta of Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh 0.2 ‘A Specimen of Independence’

21 29

3.1 Uma Dixit of Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh 3.2 ‘Shabash Beta’

75 89

4.1 Vijay Devi Rathore of Farrukhabad, Uttar Pradesh 4.2 Jail Certificate of Vijay Devi

143 145

5.1 Kala Tripathi of Hissar, Haryana 5.2 Itraaji and Chabiraji of Faizabad, Uttar Pradesh 5.3 Urmilla Goorha of Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh

178 179 203

6.1 Two Representations of Beauty in Maharathi

238–39

FOREWORD

W

HEN ONE BEGINS to write about women and nationalism in India’s ‘Hindi heartland’, or incorporates the even broader canvas of northern India, a few names of elite women and their connections are immediately drawn. This is not surprising because these women were engaged with formal political organisations like the Indian National Congress and provided leadership to the nationalist movement in northern India. But can activism be defined as being political only when it engages with formal politics? Were not the activities of ordinary middle-class women who did not engage with any form of political machinery as important? The special quality of this volume lies in its rich evocation of the experiences of ordinary middle-class women whose lives were touched by the nationalist ferment in their society during the stormy decades of the 1930s and 1940s in the Hindi-speaking heartland. Through two inter-related processes, the domestication of the public sphere and the politicisation of the domestic sphere, the book looks at ways in which confining social practices of purdah and norms of segregation and respectability were turned around and at times re-invented to become enabling ones. If women could not confront or change their circumstances through formal channels, they contested those limiting spaces by doing what they wanted to do. By aligning those contestations for the benefit of the nationalist movement, they developed a political awareness of their own abilities as mothers, sisters and daughters, but within the disabling structures of patriarchy. Of course, the nature of these dynamics and forms of contestation varied from household to household. Their political consciousness was a product of their environment, and this volume relies on women’s understanding, perceptions and experiences of their contributions through their own discourses. In unravelling the complex process of political participation, the book does not give us simple answers to the political motivations of those middle-class women, which also included the ‘thrill’ of being able to transcend their secluded lives.

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At the same time, the book does not sideline the contribution of elite women, whose narratives are well archived and documented. Instead it looks at the ways in which women from elite households and ordinary households shared the same public spaces but operated from two different social worlds. Their lives intersected not only in street demonstrations but also in the shared experience of imprisonment within the colonial prison. But this became an experience beyond physical confinement. It became a site of female community and resistance, of sharing the trial and tribulations of their everyday lives. An unexplored area in most writings on the nationalist movement is an engagement with the narratives of women who spent most of their lives within the domestic sphere. It becomes even more important to investigate this when one looks at the ‘Hindi belt’, a geographical region which, unlike other regions such as Maharashtra and Bengal, was (and still is) burdened with constraining social norms and practices and a high rate of female illiteracy. Yet under the overarching debates of domesticity and reform discussed in the Hindi literature of this period, for the purdah-bound women, the domestic sphere was the one that was most permeable to the political upheaval of the times. The volume looks at how domesticity was not only important for the nationalist agenda (if at all it affected the lives of ordinary middle-class women), but also for women themselves, their own subjectivities and political activities (including clandestine activities) despite social constraints. The nationalist symbolic repertoire was available to women from very different social worlds. But how women made sense of this symbolism in their personal lives, both within the domestic and public spheres, is what this book explores. The singular value of this book lies in the way the author uses a range of materials, both official and unconventional sources such as oral narratives, poetry, correspondence between individuals and vernacular magazines. While the methodology is one of meticulous historical construction, the work has a contemporary resonance. The author argues persuasively for using oral narratives, not only to get a feel of the times, but also to document the history of women’s struggle. While the arguments add to the historical narrative of Indian nationalism and is valuable to historians, it reaches a wider interdisciplinary audience that are engaged with women’s worlds, issues of both

Foreword

13

contestation and subordination within patriarchal structures and contexts in which women’s political consciousness are shaped. Though most of the material, particularly the oral narratives, relates to the United Provinces, the nationalist story is written in the broader context of other women’s stories, in India and beyond. ZOYA HASAN

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T

this area of research arose during my postgraduate days at the Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, under the guidance of Professors K.N. Panikkar, Mridula and Aditya Mukherjee, Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, Bipan Chandra and Romila Thapar. The rigorous intellectual debates, seminars and discussions outside the ‘classroom’ sharpened the manner in which I interpreted and articulated debates on nationalism and colonialism. My gratitude and thanks to all of them. This manuscript would not have been complete without the narratives of all those women whose life histories have never been a part of any mainstream historical canon but who still realised the usefulness of my project. Some of these women are no longer with us, but their narratives will continue to enrich our historical debates. I wish to acknowledge the financial assistance provided by the British Council Fellowship (1990), Northbrook Society Grant (1992), International Federation of Women Graduates Award (1993), Modern Record Centre and the BP Archive Research Award (1994), Mountbatten Memorial Grant (1994) and the Centre for the Study of Women and Gender, University of Warwick Award (1995), all of which enabled me to pursue my research. I am indebted to Professor Zoya Hasan, whose critical engagement with this work helped to make it complete. Her comments helped me to restructure and sharpen my arguments. I owe special thanks to Omita Goyal and Mimi Choudhury, commissioning editors at Sage Publications. Their patience, encouragement and interest in this manuscript made all my efforts worthwhile. This work would have not been complete without the materials provided by various libraries and institutes in Delhi, Allahabad, Dehradun, Kanpur and Benares, in particular the Hindi Sahitya Sammelan Library in Allahabad. HE INTEREST IN

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I would like to thank Professors Geraldine Forbes, Bharati Ray, Joanna Liddle, David Arnold and Carol Wolkowitz who read parts of this manuscript. I would like to thank my husband, Stefan Björkert, for his indefatigable help in tying up the loose ends and preparing the layout of this book in its present form. The unconditional support from my parents and sisters, both intellectually and psychologically, has been important and, without it, I would not have made much headway. To my friends and colleagues at the London School of Economics and at the universities of Warwick and Bristol, whose support helped to smooth out the edges of pain. SURUCHI THAPAR-BJÖRKERT

LIST

OF

ABBREVIATIONS

ABP AICC AIWC BC BHU CWMG DSS Home Pol. HT IOL NAI NMML PP RSS TOI UP

Amrit Bazaar Patrika (newspaper) All India Congress Committee All India Women’s Conference Bombay Chronicle (newspaper) Benares Hindu University Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi Desh Sevika Sangh Home Police Hindustan Times (newspaper) India Office Library National Archives of India Nehru Memorial Museum and Library proscribed publication Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (Hindu nationalist organisation founded in 1925) Times of India (newspaper) United Provinces (state in north India)

INTRODUCTION

A Martyr’s Wish Sarforoshi Ki Tamana Ab Hamare Dil Mein Hai Dekhana Hai Jor Kitna Bajuye Katil Mein Hai Aaaz Muktil Mein Yeh Katil Kah Raha Tha Bar Bar Kya Tamannaye-Shahadat Bhi Kisi Ke Dil Mein Hai? Vakteruksat Mein Itna Bhi Na Aaye Kah Kar God Mein Aasu Bhi Tapke Jo Rukh Se Bah Kar Tifil Unko He Samaj Lena Je Bahalane Ko Bande Mataram

(translated)

(The desire to lose our heads is now in our hearts Let us now see how much strength there is in the arms of the oppressor Today the killers taunted from the guillotine platform Is there somebody else who would like to sacrifice his or her life for the nation? When the time for departure to my death approached I could not even tell her That the tears that fell in her lap from her cheek Consider them your children to calm your mind) Long live our country

On 9 August 1925, a train was held up at Kakori, a village near Lucknow in Uttar Pradesh, and looted of its official railway cash. A number of young men were arrested and put on trial by the British government; some of them were hanged (Ashfaqulla Khan, Roshan Singh, Rajendra Lahiri and Ram Prasad ‘Bismil’) while the others were sent to the Andamans or imprisoned on the mainland.

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The poem ‘A Martyr’s Wish’ was written by Ram Prasad ‘Bismil’, an Arya Samajist and a revolutionary from Shahjahanpur in Uttar Pradesh. He was the leader in the Kakori train dacoity case. Before he was hanged, he wrote it in ambiguous language masking love for country as love for a beautiful beloved. The poem was sent to the magistrate who was trying his case with the plea that it was a romantic love poem and so should be allowed to be published. The magistrate after reading the poem agreed to its publication. Ram Prasad ‘Bismil’ was sentenced to death in 1927. The extract from ‘A Martyr’s Wish’ captures the fire of sacrifice and intense loyalty for the nationalist cause held by men and women in the Hindi-speaking heartland, whether they were revolutionaries or supported Gandhian non-violence. More importantly, it reflects the trauma of separation from loved ones, the domestic upheavals and the ways in which individuals engaged, experienced and witnessed the nationalist movement. The sentiments captured in the words of Bismil that he did not have time to tell his mother, about ‘the tears that fell in her lap from her cheek’, she should ‘consider them your children to calm your mind’, reflects the way in which women’s lives (as daughters, mothers, wives and sisters) were transformed in significant ways within and outside the domestic sphere, whether they were from elite households or ordinary middle-class women, educated or uneducated, Gandhians or revolutionaries. The poem also reflects the nature of ‘sacrifice’ that was made by individuals ‘for the nation’ and no particular form of sacrifice was more significant than another—the sacrifice of Bismil or his mother losing her son or the sacrifice of domestic peace. A lesser-known fact associated with the Kakori robbery is the role of Raj Kumari Gupta of Kanpur (Figure 0.1). She was in charge of supplying the revolvers to the men during this operation. As she put it, ‘I hid the revolvers in my underwear and wore khadi clothes on top. My threeyear-old son accompanied me’. She and her husband Madan Mohan Gupta were members of the Congress Working Committee and also worked very closely with Chandra Shekhar Azad, a well-known revolutionary and leader of the Hindustan Socialist Republican Association. Bengal and Maharashtra clearly stand out as the forerunners of the movement and there is no dearth of scholarship on the engagement of elite women with nationalism, their contributions in the ‘public’ domain and their emergence as ‘women in the frontline’ or as ‘nationalist

Introduction

Figure 0.1

21

Raj Kumari Gupta of Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh

Born in Banda zilla of Kanpur in 1910. She, along with her husband Sri Madan Mohan Gupta, worked closely with Gandhi as well as with Chandra Shekhar Azad. She played a key role in the Kakori Dacoity case. On being arrested, she was disowned by her in-laws and thrown out of the house.

heroines’. In contrast, the Hindi-speaking heartland is a relatively unexplored area in relation to women’s participation in the nationalist movement in the 1930s and 1940s. More importantly, it was one region that was overshadowed by social practices of purdah, high rates of female illiteracy and social backwardness. It is important to investigate what impact it had on women’s engagement with nationalist politics, and also how women negotiated their political lives, despite these social constraints. Chapter One identifies some of the dominant interpretations on the role of women in the nationalist movement. Interpretations differ from each other in how they define the issues to be investigated, their

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main period of historical construction, the methodological tools, and the key concepts and assumptions that are used to explain women’s political involvement or lack of it. Thus no individual interpretation can completely capture the complexity of nationalist anti-colonial dynamics—they can only add to the historical narrative. Chapter Two introduces the political context of the nationalist movement, and focusing on Uttar Pradesh, locates the development of its political profile in relation to the prevailing social and economic conditions in the 1930s and 1940s. Chapters Three and Five look at two processes which affected women’s lives. The first is what I call the domestication of the public sphere, a process whereby ‘ordinary’ middle-class women were able to enter the public domain without disassociating themselves from domestic ideology. There were several ways through which the public sphere was domesticated. First, Gandhi’s political language brought about a steady reconciliation of domestic and public values. The Gandhian ideology of non-violence and the precedent provided by female nationalist leaders, particularly from the Nehru family, encouraged other women to participate in the movement. Gandhi insisted that women should come out only after fulfilling their duties at home and with the approval of their guardians and the support of their families. Hence, women would be able to carry over their domestic respectability when they participated in street demonstrations. Once women were on the streets, they were expected to maintain the nonviolent, self-sacrificing benevolent image of the domesticated wife and mother. Second, women’s participation in the public domain was intricately tied with familial symbols, household dynamics and nationalist symbolism. The symbolic representations of women constructed by the nationalist project enabled women to play a political role through the avenues they opened, in both the public and domestic domains. Third, household items like salt, liquor and foreign cloth were given a symbolic and nationalist significance. The spirit of sacrifice was stretched across the negotiable boundaries of the domestic and public spheres, and in the public space women faced the atrocities of the police, bore the hardships encountered while picketing or demonstrating, courted arrest and served prison sentences.

Introduction

23

Closely associated with women’s public participation were the themes of segregation and respectability, which were important aspects within the domestic sphere. Women used segregation and respectability to enhance the political effectiveness of their activities as well as serve the nationalist agenda. The nationalist rhetoric for respectability translated any act done on ‘behalf of the nation’ as respectable—even if that involved women coming out of purdah. The institution of purdah in India was (and still is) a form of segregation of the sexes practised within the domestic sphere, and when women began to participate in political demonstrations they maintained features of purdah such as keeping their heads covered, or by performing selective nationalist activities in women-only groups, for example by leading prabhat pheris (morning processions). It was also the first occasion when women were exposed to a male-dominated public space and the male gaze, and it was thus essential that these women maintained their domestic values on the streets. By doing so, women not only stepped out onto the streets, but also carved a political space for themselves within the male-dominated public domain. However, public participation of women was limited and dependent on family dynamics within the household. In conjunction with the domestication of the public sphere there was the parallel process of politicisation of the domestic sphere. For many women, social constraints during the nationalist period did not allow any form of public activity. Yet, events in the public sphere, at the heart of political conflict, were affecting women’s lives within the domestic sphere. It was necessarily not the individual but the whole household which got involved in the movement. Nationalism entered the household and a close association between the nationalist movement and ‘nationalist’ households was established. When members of their families became participants in the movement, women had to adapt to the changes brought about by the nationalist movement. Women maintained traditional roles and virtues like purdah, yet supported their husbands’ nationalist activities and raised their children, symbolically referred to as ‘children of the nation’. They managed their households’ economic hardships caused by their husbands’ political commitment to nationalism, or gave moral support to women

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activists and looked after their children while they were away from home. They faced the hardships and the traumas of an uncertain domestic existence while remaining supportive wives, nurturers and mothers. As Subhas Chandra Bose wrote to Basanti Devi, wife of Congress leader, C.R. Das: ‘When the house is on fire, even a woman observing purdah has to take courage as hard as a man to save her child’.1 A woman respondent commented, ‘My husband was hanged, my house confiscated by British authorities and my six-year-old son died’. Was this not for the political cause? Women used their traditional responsibilities to politicise their own domestic spaces. The domestic sphere, for these women, was to emerge as an important site of political activity and women’s roles and activities facilitated its steady politicisation. It would however be incorrect to suggest that all women had similar political motivations and enthusiasm for participation. Some women were actively encouraged by their fathers and husbands to participate. Some were drawn in by the josh and utsah, or enthusiasm, which the movement generated. Some participants were compelled to take cognisance of the political situation and re-adjust their lives. As Tanika Sarkar has argued in relation to Bengal, political involvement may sometimes not be an ‘independent choice for women but may quite often be a matter of pressures and pulls within the household’ (1984: 90). And where nationalist involvement was disallowed, women conducted them clandestinely while still adhering to the domestic demands. While the aim of the Congress-led movement was to project a universalised and homogenised nationalist front, they could not universalise women’s goals and aspirations. There were women who broke the ‘new’ boundaries established by the feminised public politics and engaged in violence. Analysts have ambiguously referred to them as ‘revolutionaries’ or as ‘terrorists’. They differed in the means and processes of achieving their political goals and challenged the effectiveness of non-violence as a strategy for political liberation. A significant aspect of women’s public participation was to court arrest and to be imprisoned. The prison was a public institution symbolic of British discipline and control. Women carved out social

Introduction

25

spaces in prison, which resembled their own lives within the domestic sphere. Each barrack can be seen as a household, unfolding dynamics which were similar to the domestic space. Women were segregated from the outside world as well as from other men, as it was within the domestic sphere. Women performed clandestine activities such as writing and smuggling literature in and out of prison, as they did within the domestic sphere. Respectability was maintained though it opened up wider issues of caste and class. The prison emerged as a site of humiliation and as a site of resistance. Identities were continuously shaped and re-defined and women built networks and a collective opposition to colonial rule. Older women within the prison were recognised as pillars of support for unmarried women, just as they were in the domestic sphere. These ideas will be explored in Chapter Four. Chapter Six engages with some of the dominant discourses articulated by male and female writers in the popular Hindi magazines of the period. At one level they embodied a specific national rhetoric on the construction of the ‘new woman’ and the conventions and traditions associated with that construct. Contributors in these magazines located femininity in the domestic and familial, a femininity that would accommodate values of ancient Indian culture and the new Western influences. A range of features was associated with the ‘new woman’—she was educated, domesticated, non-violent and nonantagonistic. On the other hand they expressed concern over the emergence of a ‘modern’ woman who was unbridled, untamed and challenging. Though women’s political past and their varied contribution to the struggle was not effective in removing gender inequalities, it led to the raising of consciousness on wider structures of inequality between men and women, increased women’s public visibility and paved the way forward for the next generation. I am myself a product of that progress. The opportunities that I have had are due to my grandmother’s efforts and her real, if limited, encouragement to my mother. My grandmother’s small changes in consciousness may not have altered her status in society, but they did lead to a change in the status of my mother and myself.

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My purpose in writing this book was to advance our understanding on ‘unseen’ and ‘unheard’ women’s perspectives and what they perceived as their contribution to anti-colonial politics. In particular, I was interested in their domestic lives, particularly since many women could not negotiate public roles for themselves as easily as elite women. What were their experiences of the nationalist movement? What nationalist meanings did these women associate with their domestic lives? How did they express political consciousness within the domestic sphere? The intention is not to construct a new story of the nationalist movement but to address issues, which would enrich the excellent existing work on different facets of the movement. Though this book concerns itself with India’s Hindi belt and a lot of archival and oral narratives relate specifically to the United Provinces, it does not preclude other provinces where nationalist activities took place.

METHODOLOGICAL SOURCES This book has used a range of materials: official, unofficial and unconventional sources such as poetry, cartoons and oral narratives. No single methodological source could map the complexities of how gender relations interacted with and shaped wider social and political relations in colonial India; in particular, how women perceived their interaction and nationalist contribution in the anti-colonial movement. Government archival records are also continuously being subject to re-construction and re-interpretation.2 While most of the government reports were written by men (either by British colonial officials, people appointed by the Raj or men associated with nationalist parties such as the Congress Party), they helped provide the public context of the anti-colonial movement and the British response to it. Unofficial reports, and private papers,3 like the official records, were useful for documenting certain sections of the history of the nationalist movement, particularly in the public domain. But they could not provide a lot of information about women’s activities in the domestic domain, which is in fact central to women’s experience and is the main concern of women’s writings. Re-interpreting Indian nationalist history required going beyond archival, official and unofficial sources.

Introduction

27

Official and unofficial sources were studied together with other written sources such as proscribed publications, newspapers, biographies and autobiographies, and vernacular magazines. Hindi magazines and journals were important in illuminating women’s perceptions of their roles within the domestic sphere. Most of the magazines were published in Uttar Pradesh and are located in the local libraries of cities in Uttar Pradesh, such as Allahabad and Benares. Though these libraries have literature from the 19th century, I focused on publications between 1900 and 1945. Respondents provided me with copies of some of the magazines I refer to in Chapter Six, including Saraswati and Maharathi. The respondents expressed varied opinions on the vernacular literature of the 1920s and 1930s. Some of them remembered hearing about the magazines but had not read them; some thought they had not been aware of them; and a few remembered reading them occasionally. Those who read these magazines had received some formal education, though not beyond the primary school level. The specific familial circumstances were important because, while some households encouraged and subscribed to nationalist literature, others discouraged reading any literature which addressed nationalist issues. There were a few respondents who admitted that they had read some of these magazines in secret. The Hindi magazines/journals of 1900 to 1945 reflected the political changes in the public world and parallel changes in ideas about women’s roles in the domestic sphere. By exploring these writings today we can examine the relationship between the prevailing nationalist ideology and women’s consciousness, which women writers sought to draw. Men and women drawn from a small section of the educated middleclass contributed to these magazines. The literature was written with the purpose of making women aware of the wider political movement and the need for corresponding changes in the social, economic and other dimensions of the domestic sphere. For example, many magazines linked women’s and nationalist issues. There were articles entitled ‘Women and Satyagraha’ (Kamala, 1940), ‘The National Struggle and Women’s Position’ (ibid.), ‘The Significance of Women in National Life’ (Chand, 1932) and a poem, ‘The Message of Mother India’ (ibid.). The magazines I analyse need to be distinguished from another category of monthly magazines, like Manohar Tales published from Allahabad, which was intended as leisure reading for families and

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particularly for those women who were confined to the domestic sphere. These did not address political issues and contained fiction or writings on domestic matters such as cooking and sewing. A different kind of literature, one which promoted nationalist sentiment, was the ‘proscribed literature’ that was banned by the British government. Written mainly in Hindi, it took varied forms of poetry, prose and bulletins. For example, a poem like ‘The Jingle of the Shackles’ (Arora 1930) or a piece of prose entitled ‘The Fire of Revolt’ (Gupta 1931) addressed issues of rebellion and freedom, and were written with the specific aim of mobilising and inciting the populace. The proscribed literature constitutes a separate genre of political writings: it was both inflammatory and provocative. Some women were engaged in writing and editing revolutionary magazines. Ran Bheri (Bugle of War), a revolutionary magazine, was published in Benares from the house of an activist, Kusum Agarwal, but the publishing work was moved from place to place in order to confuse the police. Viplav (Morning Breeze) was published from Lahore and Lucknow by a husband and wife team. Prakashvati Yashpal handled the publishing work, and she and her husband, who belonged to the Hindustan Republican Association, edited it jointly. The magazine was brought out in Hindi and Urdu. The contributors were both men and women from the Hindustan Republican Socialist Party and occasionally from the Congress Party. The magazine stopped publishing in 1949. Magazines like Ran Bheri and Viplav focused only on political issues. Proscribed literature gave access to women’s nationalist activities in public and private spheres. National newspapers, and specifically Hindi regional newspapers such as The Leader, Dainik Jagran and Abhyudaya, provided political information about Uttar Pradesh, and also furnished small details of events in the districts and mohallas (small localities) that comprised the state. The magazines frequently carried autobiographical accounts from men and women in the form of editorials, articles and stories. Malavika Karlekar’s study on 19th century Bengal refers to these as ‘personal narratives’, and her work highlights their importance in ‘re-creation of women’s lives’ (Karlekar 1991: 12). Another important source from the nationalist period was poetry and cartoons published in newspapers. Poetry and cartoons have often been seen as casual and fictional material, and have thus been regarded as

Introduction

Figure 0.2

29

‘A Specimen of Independence’

Represents the subservience and subordination of the Indian nation. The ultimate goal of independence is seen as the only way of alleviating the humiliation of being colonised. (Cartoon from the Hindustan Times of 27 May 1945, p. 3.)

unsuitable for historical research. Only recently have they come to be seen as useful sources of data (Rao 1994: 36). Poetry, for example, reveals emotions of anger, love, distress and pain articulated through a particular nationalist vocabulary. Cartoons disclose the political mood of the time, and their specific humour reveals the political language and symbolism employed to convey the nationalist message. For example, a dog in chains tied to a tree and labelled ‘colonial people’ vividly symbolised the political situation of India and the plight of a country in distress (Figure 0.2). The material in newspapers in particular provided a general idea of the nature of women’s activities and offered leads to politically active women, though mainly from well-known political families. However, it was difficult to understand from these records how the women viewed their participation in a volatile political situation, their motivations, and

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what it meant for them to be political actors in a public male-dominated space. Moreover, my focus was not only on elite women, but also on the ‘nameless’ and ‘ordinary’ middle-class women, whose contribution to the movement was as important as that of the elite leaders. A newspaper or a fortnightly report would mention the name of women leaders (often elite women) that led processions of women and children. Studies conducted in other provinces in India have indicated that the ‘main body’ of female participants in the civil disobedience movement were not from the elite classes (Pearson 1981). The task of looking for the women that followed these women leaders was difficult, because the newspapers often chose to state the activities and names of only those women whose men were important nationalist leaders. It was considered to be more respectable and non-intrusive to identify a woman by her husband’s family name rather than giving her name. For example, the Allahabad newspaper The Leader stated: About 5,000 Indian ladies assembled to participate in a demonstration arranged by the local ‘dictator’ of the nationalist movement. At the head were two wives of respected citizens of Allahabad, Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya and Pandit Motilal Nehru (9 July 1930: 13).

These sources provided a wealth of knowledge on significant aspects of political mobilisation but could not provide much information of how domestic lives were being organised in relation to the political movement. Oral narratives while being a significant link between different sources also helped to uncover how middle-class women viewed their activities.

Oral Narratives Some historians perceive oral narratives as a set of ‘rambles and recollections’, unsupported by contemporary writings and not appropriate as ‘evidence’, but ‘would provide many useful leads and a “feel” for the time which written accounts could scarcely convey’ (Pandey 1978: preface). As a methodological tool, these narratives revealed the individual subjectivities of participants in the nationalist movement. Documenting these life histories opened a new world before me: a

Introduction

31

world more real than official records. Contemporary feminist historical enquiries have challenged historical accounts, which were constructed mainly by male researchers, and the methodology and tools of analysis used for research. In particular, Western feminist epistemological and methodological approaches have challenged mainstream history for their positivist and empiricist methods of analysis, primarily because these methods did not facilitate the study of women’s lives and their experiences, either in the past or the present (see Bell et al. 1993; Borland 1991; Fonow and Cook 1991; Gluck and Patai 1991; Harding 1987; Lather 1988; Narayan 1989, 1997; Oakley 1981; Stacey 1991; Stree Shakti Sanghatana 1989; Suleri 1989; Thapar-Björkert and Henry 2004; Wilkinson and Kitzinger 1996; Wolf 1996).4 Mainstream methods, it was argued, privileged ‘public matters’ and, more importantly, failed to examine the inadequacies of public/private divisions, which excluded women’s experience. Locating absences and silences and re-investigating the past of women, searching the ‘limited evidence with different questions’ and not inferring a ‘silence’, distinguished feminist objectives from those of mainstream history (Allen 1986: 184). It was felt that in order to contribute to existing interpretations, which were based on the exclusion of women and nonrecognition of women’s past, it was necessary to work from outside mainstream disciplines. This separatist approach was different from the inclusive approach, which argued for highlighting women as valid historical subjects within mainstream disciplines (Genovese 1982; Gordon 1988; Davis 1988). Fox Genovese (1982) argued for developing women’s history within mainstream history because, for her, this addressed women’s experiences within wider historical processes. Since until now the dominant historical subject has been male, the history thus written has treated everything non-male as the ‘Other’. To move away from mainstream history and project women’s history and women’s experiences as unique and different, would be to accept the existing categorisation of women as the ‘Other’.5 An essential focus of these feminist historians was the inclusion of social and cultural spheres of the domestic, the family and sexuality within mainstream analysis, ‘historicising’ activities of women which had not previously been seen as ‘historical’ in wider historical processes (Gordon 1988: 92). The partial view of what constitutes social and political life, due to the

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exclusion of women’s activities, was subjected to rigorous scrutiny. It was also argued that women’s history should be comparative; women’s experience compared to men’s, and women’s experience in one class compared to those of another (Zemon-Davis 1988: 86). This would also contextualise women’s resistance, and conflicts and ambiguities that arise during constant negotiations between the sexes (Gordon 1988: 92). Moreover, the challenge is not to substitute the ‘female’ subject for the ‘male’ subject, but to explore the ambiguous and unequal ways that relationships between gender, race and class-specific subjects are forged (Genovese 1982). In doing so, it prompts researchers to explore the role of gender and ‘gender conflict within the context of social, economic and political relations’ (ibid.: 17). What is significant is that both the approaches agree on the privilege that mainstream disciplines accord to activities in the public domain during the process of documentation and interpretation of historical evidence. They ask for a new set of questions which challenge the idea of the unimportance of women’s domestic lives and the subsequent exclusion of the relationship between the domestic and public spheres. My task was to locate ordinary middle-class women, particularly those women whose public participation was minimal or those who had never stepped outside the domestic threshold, and thus their histories were undocumented. I thought the best approach would be to talk to the older local people in the key areas. It was easiest to start with my parent’s contacts in the district of Kanpur. They were both medical doctors and had lived in Kanpur for over 30 years. I was surprised at the number of women my mother knew from this one district who had contributed to the movement, but whose names I had never come across in any official records. This provided useful leads to activists in other districts of Uttar Pradesh such as Benares, Allahabad, Lucknow, Meerut, Dehradun and Gorakhpur, districts that I visited as part of my fieldwork. My father put me in touch with all his old women patients. Not all were willing to speak to me, but I realised that nationalist feelings had been widespread in the district of Kanpur. There were illiterate women from remote villages who had at least heard or witnessed nationalist activities, even if they had not participated in them. The husbands of these rural women were bonded labourers to the high caste landlords. The husbands would come and narrate to their wives incidents which they had witnessed

Introduction

33

at their landlords’ houses. For example, Gulabo Devi, a washerwoman from rural Kanpur, told me about her husband seeing khadi-clad (khadi is coarse hand-spun cotton) men arriving in jeeps at the landlord’s house. Long discussions used to take place. Money would change hands and often the landlord provided money to the local leaders of the district Congress Committee. Sometimes these Congressmen used to come late at night and leave without being seen by anyone in the village. Other rural women used to climb to the rooftops of their houses and watch the processions, and sometimes they witnessed police brutality towards both men and women.6 I was also helped by the most unlikely informants such as domestic servants and milkmen, people who offer their services to a number of households and have been working for, or supplying milk to, veterans of the nationalist movement for years. Although they knew little about the nature of the political activities of possible respondents, they could provide excellent information on the approximate location or house number of these respondents. Though the number of interviews conducted is important, it cannot be taken as a basis to judge the validity and importance of my research. I conducted a total of seventy interviews with women and men, but still feel that all of them are in some respects incomplete. The fifty-eight women and twelve men were all from the middle class. The people interviewed were mainly Hindus. I was also able to interview a few Muslim women, though I could not interview any Muslim men. Most of the Hindu respondents were from the Brahmin caste, and others from the Khatri, Bania, Rajput and Kayastha castes. The class and caste standing of these women meant that before the movement they would not have participated in public life. Family wealth, ownership of property and a high standard of living defined their middle-class status from those of lower-class women. A sizeable proportion came from land-owning families, a smaller proportion from business backgrounds, and the smallest group comprised women from the professional classes. The literacy levels of women varied, but the majority had an elementary education till at least the fifth standard, which was considered high in the colonial times. Though a privileged class background helped women to acquire education, we cannot assume that all middle-class women were literate. There were many who did not know how to read or write.

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Locating, accessing and interviewing respondents was the beginning of the methodological journey, and issues of truth, memory and individual subjectivities offered fresh challenges. Historians who rely on ‘facts’ and ‘hard evidence’ often find it difficult to negotiate with narratives shaped by ‘memories’. Seldon argues that ‘failure of memory is a serious criticism which can be levelled against oral history. In addition there may be retrospective editing, self-justification, myth building and other evils’ (Seldon in Purvis 1987: 75). It was difficult for my respondents to remember details of what took place sixty or seventy years ago as well as narrate their lives to a complete stranger like me (see Thapar-Björkert 2000). What struck me was that ordinary women from middle-class backgrounds were more self-conscious and hesitant than elite women in narrating their life stories. They had not spoken about their activities to anybody for a long time and their stories had not been rehearsed in their minds over and over again for public consumption. This part of their lives had also not become central to their own sense of self-identity in the present. On the other hand, most elite women from politically important households were accustomed to making public statements and so most of their answers to my queries were probably well rehearsed. While recognising that memories are also shaped by myths and rumours, it was at times difficult to draw the boundary between the imaginary and the real—between failure of memory or ‘faking’ (Fleischmann 1996: 363). Passerini (1990) argues that the world of the imaginary, ‘of dreams, images (and) fantasy’ is an important component of mythmaking (1990: 50). For instance, a few respondents narrated daring accounts of their activities during the movement like being chased by policemen, jumping over rooftops while one’s house was being searched by the police or ‘eating sand as dinner’ instead of food. I found it difficult to differentiate between what had actually happened, how much was imagined and how successful these women were in achieving what they dreamt of doing. However, the individuality of each experience—the dramatisation and contexualisation, the myths and realities—provided richness to the narratives, highlighting at the same time the emerging nationalist consciousness. It was apparent that respondents sometimes camouflaged important feelings with misleading statements, which can be interpreted as conscious

Introduction

35

distortions of the past. Though these ‘truths’ do not reveal the past, they can neither be contested nor taken as the ‘true’ reality (Personal Narratives Group 1989: 261). For example, a respondent named Sridevi Tewari tried to hide from me her commitment to the nationalist cause after her marriage. She had married a lecturer with anti-nationalist sentiments, and initially she refused to talk to me about the nationalist feelings she had even after marriage and seemed merely enthusiastic about her father’s encouragement regarding her nationalist activities. It was only after a few meetings and her growing trust that she said: ‘I was not allowed to express my emotions on the movement and often cried at night. I hated to be married and to operate under restrictions of such kind’.7 Disciplines that highlight the importance of certain ‘truths’ because they conform to established standards of validity should recognise that such elevation serves ‘to control data, control irregularities of human experiences and ultimately control what constitutes knowledge’ (Personal Narratives Group 1989: 262). Moreover, a narrowly defined understanding of what constitutes the ‘truth’ may lead us to exclude experiences that can only be explained by an in-depth analysis. The Personal Narratives Group suggests the existence of ‘multiple truths’ in all life stories. The different angles of interpretation created when we delve into the ‘relationships’ that influence the narrative, the ‘conditions’ that affect them and the ‘forms’ that pilot them—these not only impart varying perspectives, but also ‘reveal multiple truths of a life’ (ibid.). An understanding of the sources of the ‘truths’ of individual women’s experiences tells us something about the social constraints that form part of women’s experiences. Moreover, we need to understand that ‘truths’ result from the interaction of the person (self) with society and the ways in which reality is constructed for individuals (Frieden 1989). Individual interviews with respondents could stretch over a couple of days and each interview session lasted from three to four hours. No particular time schedule was followed. I had to be flexible according to the routine of the respondents. The first meeting was sometimes particularly uncomfortable if the respondent could not be informed beforehand of my arrival because she could not be reached by phone. However, if it was convenient, some respondents liked to talk straight away, while some like Narayani Tripathi spoke for a few minutes and then said: ‘Now you have initiated my memory. If you come again,

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I will be able to tell you more. I will now start thinking about (those) days. Sitting out here I cannot remember much’.8 There could be a gap of a few days before I could interview the same respondent again. Moreover, for women to discuss what they considered to be crucial and intimate moments of their life required more than a couple of meetings with them. The essential elements of building trust, confidence and intimacy could only be gained by allowing the respondents their own time, space and vocabulary. Several meetings with the same respondent demonstrated a constant and sustained interest on my part to learn more about her activities. My desire to fully comprehend the respondent’s life story generated enthusiasm in her too. I could sympathise with the feelings of women from conservative households who would hesitate to reveal aspects of their domestic lives and their individual emotional stress. What we remember is, by and large, though not entirely, culturally sanctioned (even those memories we preserve in the secret recesses of our minds are ideological in that they are what is socially tabooed). Hidden conventions and models shape the ‘fiction’ through which we grasp and project our lives (Stree Shakti Sanghatana 1989: 3).

The women respondents were old, and so I could not pursue the interview at great length because they found it tiring. For example, one of the respondents named Sushila Devi used to go and rest in her room for fifteen minutes before resuming the interview (Thapar-Björkert 1999).9 They would often go off at a tangent and break the continuity of the conversation. They were often forgetful, and sometimes started recanting, denying what they had just said. In order to be sure of what they really meant, I had to re-confirm the statements originally taken down by myself. This increased the duration of the interviews. An informal conversational approach proved to be fruitful because women were often encouraged to discuss certain key moments of their lives in-depth, though concentrating more on what the respondent wished to remember and wanted to share rather than on what ‘the interviewer (in this case myself) wishes to know and hear’ (Thompson 1988: 110). Often these were incidents that even the most thoroughly planned questionnaire might have overlooked. Planned and theoretically

Introduction

37

informed questions omit these small realities of existence, assuming that women are some kind of ‘nationalist heroes’: If we want to know how women feel about their lives, then we have to allow them to talk about their feelings as well as their activities.… Women’s oral history requires much more than a new set of questions to explore women’s unique experiences … we need to (see) whether our interviews create a context in which women feel comfortable exploring the subjective feelings … whether they encourage women to explain what they mean in their own terms (Gluck and Patai 1991: 17).

Finally, as a historian exposed to feminist methodologies, I was conscious not to ‘fit’ women’s narrative into feminist paradigms to the extent that it led to misrepresentation and ‘interpretive conflict’. The interview process was a terrain where meanings were constantly negotiated and I was aware of granting ‘interpretive space’ to the narrator (Borland 1991: 70). Oral narratives revealed the ways women understood nationalism and in sharing their understanding they were also suggesting ways in which we need to re-think the importance of the domestic sphere. Their narratives rightly challenged the binary division of public/private, which not only ‘marginalises women’s lived sense of the past’ but also undermines the political significance of the private domain through a historical representation of it as a site of subordination rather than contestation.10 Within the dominant Indian historical discourse, to be ‘public’ was to be ‘political’. This equation of political activity with the public sphere constituted the ‘dominant memory’ which was subsequently documented in historical texts,11 and thus the nationalist contributions women made from within the domestic sphere were silenced. In other words, the respondents believed that if they had not stepped out of their homes into the public domain, ‘they were not nationalist’. Since the dominant historical interpretations on nationalism have primarily relied on testimonies of elite women who were also active in the public sphere, it was recognised that this was the ‘reality’ of the nationalist movement and that all nationalist contributions were made in the public sphere. The story that unfolded in the oral narratives of ordinary middle-class women was something very different.

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Notes 1 Netaji’s Collected Works: Letter from Subhas Chandra Bose to Basanti Devi, 17.7.27, Vol. 4: 233–34. 2 Includes the Police Abstracts of Intelligence reports, Proceedings and Files of the Government of India, Fortnightly reports and Public and Judicial papers. 3 Includes an assortment of private papers, correspondence between nationalist leaders and government officials, and the committee papers of nationalist parties. 4 These authors were concerned with a praxis-oriented paradigm that was non-exploitative and empowering for the researched. 5 Genovese’s point about women’s history slotted as the ‘Other’ in relation to mainstream history was to re-surface in debates on the use of categories such as ‘Third World’ and ‘Third World woman’. Earlier debates challenged the assumptions of the superiority of western modernity, uniqueness and centrality of western culture, against which ‘indigenous’ ‘Third World’ culture was seen as the ‘Other’; as a ‘fixed reality’ and ‘separate and exclusive’ (Said 1978; Bayly 1988a, 1988b; Yapp 1988; Bhabha 1996). Western feminist discourse was equally implicated in setting itself as the normative referent as much as the western male historical scholarship that it critiqued, particularly with reference to writings on women in the ‘Third World’. The historical heterogeneities and specificities of the lives of women in the ‘Third World’, it was argued, had been misunderstood by western and ‘Third World’ feminist scholarship which had not offered an adequate critique of the Orientalist discourse and had therefore worked within it. It had led to the creation of a composite and singular ‘Third World woman’ and consequently to a colonisation of the historical complexities of the lives of these women (Mohanty 1988: 62). 6 In the 1920s and 1930s, there were landlord activists in the movement as well some who were ‘covert’ landlord sympathisers. After the 1937 elections and the introduction of the UP Tenancy Bill, the relationship of the landlords of Oudh with the Congress became difficult and tenuous, with political opinion divided between those for ‘arbitration’ and others for ‘negotiation’ with the Congress high command (the Congress Parliamentary Sub-Committee) represented by Sardar Patel, Rajendra Prasad, Bhulabhai Desai, Acharya Kripalani and Pandit Govind Ballabh Pant (Reeves 1988: 161). 7 Interview with Sridevi Tewari, a writer born in Kanpur in 1918, recorded by the author in 1996. 8 Transcript of interview of Narayani Tripathi.

Introduction 9 10 11

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For further details on this point see my article ‘Negotiating Otherness: Dilemmas of a Non-Western Researcher’, Journal of Gender Studies 8, 57–71. Also see, Popular Memory Group, ‘Popular Memory: Theory, Politics, Method’, in Robert Perks and Alistair Thomson (eds), The Oral History Reader, London: Routledge, 1998: 77. Popular Memory Group, ‘Popular Memory: Theory, Politics, Method’, p. 76.

Chapter 1

THEORETICAL ENGAGEMENTS

S

AND

DISENGAGEMENTS

engaged with varied methodological and theoretical approaches and perspectives in trying to understand the Indian nationalist movement. In particular, these debates have emphasised the importance of understanding the ways in which women were positioned in relation to colonialism and nationalism as well as their involvement in the nationalist movement. Though women’s relationship with nationalism and colonialism was ambiguous and problematic, historical accounts unanimously agree that the nationalist struggle in India against British colonial rule brought about the political mobilisation of both men and women. It encouraged middle-class and elite women to adopt new role models in the public domain and to engage in a range of activities such as social reform, spreading the nationalist message and mobilisation for the movement. It is also widely accepted that women’s participation was important because the movement’s success was dependent on women’s contribution to and involvement in it. Immediately after Indian independence, mainstream historical perspectives engaged themselves in discussing the indigenous social classes in Indian society and how they interacted with the colonial elite. They explored the tensions between British colonialism and the emerging nationalist sentiment in India. However, these accounts remained confined to the interaction of elites, representing different political and economic interests. The earlier writings on the anticolonial movement were made available in the public domain in the late 1940s (see Sitaramayya 1946, 1947; Tarachand 1961–72). These writings, which can be located within the theoretical tradition of the nationalist school, trace the history of the freedom movement from OCIAL SCIENTISTS HAVE

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the development of nationalism in 1885 to the partition of India in 1947. One of the most useful ideas developed by the nationalist school was to show the development of nationalism in modern Indian history as a unified and collective opposition of the Indian nation against a common enemy represented by British colonial rule. The emergence of the English-educated Indian middle class, and its engagement with social reform activities, which eventually led to the development of anti-British sentiments in India, is seen as important in their analysis. Within modern historiographical trends, the nationalist school has been criticised for uncritically emphasising and glorifying the role of a ‘few great leaders’ in the movement (Sarkar 1983: 6). However, in its pursuit of projecting the movement as homogeneous, some forms of social division within Indian society were overlooked. It is thus not surprising that gender relationships, specifically women’s participation in the movement, are not addressed (Kasturi and Mazumdar 1994: 1–6). In the 1960s, historians such as J.H. Broomfield (1968), Anil Seal (1968), C.A. Bayly (1975), B.R. Tomlinson (1976), David Washbrook (1976) and Judith Brown (1977), referred to as the ‘Cambridge school’, projected their understanding of the nationalist movement. This school viewed nationalist politics primarily in terms of the British and colonial elites. It also credited the British colonial elite with having trained the native population in the ethics of parliamentary democracy and then handing over power to them in gradual doses. Some of these analysts later identified themselves with the ‘new’ Cambridge school and portrayed the westernised Indian elite as ‘clients and spokesmen’ of the indigenous notables (such as merchants, bankers, business magnates, land-owning aristocracy) who controlled ‘Indian society and (were) intermediaries between the latter and the British Raj’ (Torri 1990: 2–8).1 To a certain extent the ‘new’ Cambridge school reduced the overemphasis on and glorification of elite leaders, a key characteristic of the nationalist school, and instead projected them as ‘middle-men’. However, the representation of nationalist politics was in many respects incomplete because politics is unmistakably implied as an, ‘aggregation of activities and ideas of those who were directly involved in the operation of these institutions, that is the colonial rulers and the dominant groups in native society to the extent that their mutual

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transactions were thought to be all there was to Indian nationalism’ (Guha 1982: 4). The Cambridge school shares similarities with nationalist historiography in that both represent Indian nationalism as an ‘idealist venture in which the indigenous elite led the people from subjugation to freedom’ (ibid.: 2). Amongst the historians of the Cambridge school, very few have made references to women’s activities in Indian society, and no particular sense of the significance of women’s political consciousness or their nationalist contributions were accounted for. Women were actively involved in nationalist politics from the middle of the 19th century. For example, women formed organisations for social reform in which issues related to women were addressed (Kaur 1968: 40–85) and women voiced their opinions and participated in the first struggle against British rule, the 1857 revolt. So the interests of these schools rested elsewhere, and not because women were not active in nationalist politics. The Cambridge school puts more emphasis on the divisions between social sub-categories in Indian society, such as the ‘westernised elite’ (intelligentsia) and the ‘indigenous notables’ (those wielding economic power), rather than gender as a social division. Also, the school places emphasis on economic changes and their effects on the interaction of elites representing different economic interests. It also highlights the role of mediators between state and society who either held positions in the state bureaucracy or were representatives of interest groups. Though the analysis of the political motivation and mobilisation of masses may not be the forte of the Cambridge school, later research, especially by D.A. Low (1977), did analyse the participation of different sections of Indian society in mass movements. The late 1970s and 1980s saw the emergence of a new body of historical knowledge which referred to itself as ‘subaltern studies’ (see Pandey 1978; Guha 1982; Henningham 1983; Amin 1984; Hardiman 1997). The subalterns dismissed previous historical writings as elitist, mechanical or over-materialistic, and instead focused on ‘marginal’ and non-elite groups and their ‘autonomous’ resistance at various stages in the development of Indian nationalist politics. Its conceptual framework delineates two domains: the elite and the subaltern. Within the ‘elite’ domain, Guha draws on a distinction between foreign (British) and indigenous elite groups (feudal magnates and leaders)

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(1982: 8). The subaltern domain is seen to comprise social groups which ‘represent the demographic difference between the total Indian population and all those whom we have described as the elite’ (ibid.). Their framework is close to the Marxist analysis, and there is a clear employment of Marxist paradigms: In fact by claiming that the term ‘subaltern’ is derived from the works of Antonio Gramsci … by references to the well known Marxist formulation on the need for a revolutionary party or on the failure of the workingclass to give leadership to the peasantry … some indirectly and some more directly suggest that they are working within the Marxist tradition (Mukherjee 1988: 2109).2

Subaltern historiography is important to understand both oppression and exclusion of specific social groups and the activities of the masses as arise independently of the influence of the elite. However, the rigid categories of elite and subaltern often overlook the varying levels of oppression within the subaltern classes. With specific reference to Oudh (present-day Uttar Pradesh), Kapil Kumar shows that during the 1920s there were women taluqdars and moneylenders whose activities put them in the category of oppressors rather than the oppressed: At any given time we find a sizeable number of women taluqdars in districts of Oudh.… The thakurain (Rajput woman landholder) of Amargarh estate … practised all kinds of oppression on her tenants. In 1936, she even had the houses of her tenants looted (Kumar 1989: 343).

Kumar’s insightful analysis identifies rural women as being both the oppressors and the oppressed, highlighting the ambiguities in subaltern historiography. The subaltern school has also come under scrutiny from scholars who argue that the historiography does not explicitly discuss the role of women, particularly in relation to ‘subaltern’ men (see Spivak 1988; Viswesaran 1996). Karlekar (1991) also points out that the ‘subalterns’ have provided insights into how non-elite, underprivileged groups perceive their reality. However, in the context of Bengal, she argues that though the upper middle-class educated bhadramahila was in absolute terms privileged, she was clearly underprivileged in terms of the bhadralok (ibid.: 9). Also, though subaltern historiography re-interprets official

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sources and makes us analyse ‘subaltern’ classes, thus re-reading history from their perspective, it only incidentally incorporates sources produced by women themselves (Burton 1998; Viswesaran 1996). Despite these criticisms, subaltern historiography has enabled us to use the category ‘subaltern’ to express varied forms of exclusion and oppression: women as a marginalised group, women from the lower social classes or women as colonised subjects. As early as 1958, Women of India, a book edited by Tara Ali Baig, documented the activities of women, particularly those who inherited political traditions from their families, such as Sarojini Naidu, Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay, Hansa Mehta and Vijaylakshmi Pandit, all primarily from elite households. Baig’s edited book, along with later work by Manmohan Kaur (1968) and Aparna Basu (1976) reflect three main issues.3 First, the elite nationalist women set the precedent for the participation of other middle-class women in the movement. Also, the Congress nationalist leaders required the political mobilisation of women in the nationalist movement because the movement’s importance and success was dependent on women’s contribution and involvement in it. Women’s participation expanded gradually and was very limited in the first two movements of 1905 and 1920. Gandhi played a key role in offering assurance and confidence to the guardians of women participants, and some women were encouraged by the men in their households (Basu 1976: 37). Second, women were extremely enthusiastic and ‘eager’ to participate in the movement, though initially, Gandhi advised women to restrict their satyagraha to picketing liquor and foreign cloth. Some of these themes were reiterated in later works by Vijay Agnew (1979) and Uma Rao (1994).4 It was argued that the feature of non-violence assisted women’s equal participation, as, ‘because the struggle was non-violent, women could participate equally. They amply possessed the qualities required for a non-violent struggle: tolerance, courage and capacity for suffering’ (Rao 1994: 41). Third, the emerging Indian women’s movement is projected as being different from women’s movements in the West, which clearly recognised antagonistic and conflicting interests with men. Women were ‘accepted as political comrades and given equal opportunities for participation in the freedom struggle’ (Basu 1976: 40; Kaur 1968: 202).

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The Hindi magazines reflected the same sentiment. Implicit in these arguments was the fact that if the nationalist movement was a mutually supportive and non-antagonistic venture between men and women, then the women would not undertake nationalist activities without the consent of the men. At the same time non-antagonism was not associated with passivity or reticence on the part of women. Instead, women’s activities were applauded and glorified. The next decade saw hordes of women pouring out of their homes. Women of all classes and castes, high and low, gave their support to the national movement. The processions taken out by women, their untiring picketing of cloth and liquor shops, their persuasive appeals for swadeshi are even today marvelled at (Rao 1994: 38).

The Indian women’s movement hesitated to use the word ‘feminist’ even though it recognised that its priorities were not always the same as those of men.5 Indian women sought political rights in order to perform their civil duties, and not to compete with men (Chattopadhyay 1983: 5–7). Women aligned with the nationalist movement to argue for their own rights as much as to achieve political independence: ‘As … the wave of patriotism for political freedom began to sweep … this movement revealed a realisation that this freedom should be for both men and women’ (ibid.: 99). Women saw their advancement and India’s freedom as being knit closely together: ‘women’s rights seemed dependent on freedom from imperialism…. They (women) saw themselves as working for women’s rights when they demonstrated, marched or supported revolutionary activities’ (Forbes 1982: 534). This is not to deny that women did not face contradictions and ambiguities in their lives when they interacted with institutions and bodies representing colonialism.6 In fact women saw both colonial structures and traditional hierarchical structures as a cause of gender inequality. While women were conscious of their dependence on the British government for securing positions on various legislative councils and committees, they were also aware that it was against the same government that they were fighting for India’s political independence. These contradictory relations with the British government further strengthened women’s alignment with the nationalist movement, and promoted a view of the

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women as political comrades of men (Chattopadhyay 1983: 99).7 On the other hand, if women overemphasised male supremacy as one of the causes of their subordination, this could be used by the colonial rulers to justify their rule in India (Liddle and Joshi 1985a: 526). It has been argued that women’s close and necessary relationship with the nationalist movement subsumed their own problems and demands, and limited their political perspectives. Even where women’s issues were discussed, Kumari Jayawardena (1986) argues, they covered limited reforms such as the right to the vote, education and property, and equality within the legal process. Moreover, according to Jayawardena, these reforms ‘had little effect on the daily lives of the masses of women, neither did they address the basic question of women’s subordination within the family and in society’ (ibid.: 10). The reforms initiated by the newly created bourgeoisie class of professionals and administrators re-defined the roles of women within families in accordance with changing political demands (ibid.: 108). The emerging ‘new woman’ was ‘modern’, but at the same time representative of the national culture and traditions of Indian society (ibid.: 14). This national identity would serve as a platform for mobilisation against the colonisers (ibid.: 3). The Congress leaders also realised that without the participation of these ‘masses’ (and ordinary women), the elite Congress-led movement, could not universalise the movement and claim to be representing a unified Indian nation.8 The nationalist project would be incomplete without the support of middle-class women. The importance of the symbolic category of ‘woman’ to the nationalist movement can be understood in relation to these nationalist needs. Gail Pearson’s brilliant regional study on Bombay identifies three aspects of the movement. First, women provided cohesiveness to the nationalist movement because ‘woman’ as a category was ‘undifferentiated in public consciousness, (and) was the sole universal category which cut through divisions and could mean all things to all persons’ (Pearson 1981: 175). Second, the nationalists in order to arouse the nationalist sentiments of the populace at large and to prove the unworthy nature of the British rulers used the associated concept of ‘sacred womanhood’. Furthermore, this legitimised the role of women in the public sphere. Third, women’s support was required for effective forms of

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resistance such as the boycott of foreign-made cloth and the picketing of shops. These processes were initiated by what Pearson has called the ‘female intelligentsia’ who took over leadership roles and facilitated the participation of ‘women of the extended female space’, creating in the process an ‘intermediate social space’ between the household and the public world. The women from the extended female space unlike those from the female intelligentsia were not very educated. Moreover, though the symbolic constructions gave the Gandhian-led movement a specific cohesion, there were ideological divisions amongst the women. The metaphorical construct of the ‘extended family’ and the nation as the family, Minault (1981) argues, were used to show that the public activities were seen as natural extensions of household roles, thus facilitating women stepping out from their homes. This provided an important metaphor in facilitating women’s activities beyond the domestic sphere, and into the public sphere.9 However, the homogeneity and universality of the movement was challenged by certain sections of middle-class women who took to violence as a means of achieving their political goal of independence. Though their goals were the same, the processes of achieving them were different. Pearson’s and Minault’s analysis gives us a unique insight into the social world of women from the extended space. It also projects the difficulties that women from the middle class would have faced if that extended space were not created. The importance of their work lies in the ways they have drawn bridges between the domestic and public domains in order to illuminate the significant interactions which have had political significance. In emphasising the central position of women in the construction and maintenance of national identity, they have highlighted the importance of ‘gendered symbolism’ which facilitated women’s entry into the public sphere. While the metaphors of the extended female space and extended family enabled women to step out into the public domain, there were many others who could not. What happened to these women? Why are their voices not part of the nationalist cannon? At the same time as the extended space was created, the domestic sphere was itself a subject of reforms, negotiations and contestations. Dagmar Engels talks about the relevance of the private sphere to both colonialist and nationalist discourses. She argues that the discursive

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strategy on women in the private sphere changed and that limited British interference was instead preferred. In 1894, Bengali newspapers such as Dacca Prakash ‘attacked the British for harbouring lascivious intentions behind the law’ (Engels 1989: 430). Bengali Hindu middle-class men refused to participate in debates concerning the status of women or engage in ‘western-style social reform’.10 Instead, ‘Indian woman’ became the symbol of the motherland and the symbolic construction of ‘mother’ and her association with India as the new political message. Motherhood was resurrected and given a political meaning by the Hindu revivalists and radical political activists. These accounts which reflect the permeability of the private domain to the public arena have been enriched further through the work of Partha Chatterjee (1989), Dipesh Chakrabarty (1993).11 In particular, ideas of modernity and tradition are elaborated and explained further in relation to the changes and dynamics of the public/material and private/spiritual spheres (Chatterjee 1989). The nationalist discourse of the 19th century centred on the dichotomy of the ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ domains, and the problem of maintaining a consistent balance between the two. It was through these two domains that nationalism sought to resolve the ‘woman question’ in accordance with the needs of its own project. The outer or material domain represented the external reality, that is, the world dominated by western science, technology and methods of statecraft, while the inner or spiritual domain represented the true identity of the Indian people. The representative of the inner domain was the woman (ibid.: 237). Whereas in the material domain the colonisers had subjugated the colonised non-European people, in the spiritual domain, no such encroachments had taken place. The spiritual domain, which embodied the culture of the nation, had to be protected and had to be more consistent with the outside world in its new ideas of equality and liberalism. Tradition was seen not only as a legitimating source of national identity, but also as a way of differentiating between the indigenous culture of the nation and the influence of the alien imperial culture. National identity was thus framed through cognisance as well as contestation. Cognisance of what it needed to reform in the public domain and contestation of what was to remain unchanged in the domestic domain.12 The emerging nationalist consciousness was to structure national and sexual identities in ways that facilitated the nationalist project.13

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The indigenous culture had not only to be differentiated from the alien imperial culture, but also protected from any encroachments by the coloniser. The construct of the ‘new woman’ was the embodiment of sexuality as well as respectability. Just as national identity was shaped through its opposition to any encroachments in the domestic domain, in the same way sexuality was developed in ways that supported the national identity.14 Like Chatterjee, Dipesh Chakrabarty highlights the important role that women were expected to play in reconstructing the domestic sphere that supported the civil-political life. His work situates the importance of the domestic sphere in relation to the debates on modernity in colonial Bengal (Chakrabarty 1993: 4).15 Bengali texts written by both men and women concerned themselves with bringing discipline, routine and order into the domestic sphere along the lines of ideas originating from Victorian England, and like Chatterjee, Chakrabarty highlights the important role that women were expected to play in reconstructing the domestic sphere that supported the civilpolitical life. Similarly, Anne McClintock has argued that domesticity was a ‘dimension of male and female identities—shifting and unstable and an indispensable element both of the industrial market and the imperial enterprise’ (1997: 5). These rich and evocative analyses take us through the highs and lows of the nationalist movement, and establish the importance of women’s contribution to the nationalist movement and the complex ways in which women’s own lives were re-shaped by nationalist needs. Invariably, most of these analyses focus on elite women or the ‘female intelligentsia’. It cannot be denied that elite women did play an important role in setting the precedent and most historical narratives have highlighted the importance of their public participation as well as the political roles they carved for themselves (Southard 1995). But as Burton argues, the ‘extent to which elite women’s words, however small and elusive, still dominate, is as pervasive a problem in non-western women’s histories as it is in the historiography of feminism and empire in the West’ (Burton 1998: 564). Though the movement was dependent on ‘mass’ participation of ‘ordinary’ ‘simple’ and ‘unsophisticated’ middle-class women, we rarely hear their voices.16 And when they are mentioned, the analysis remains confined to their public participation. Moreover, ‘political activity’ or

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‘politically active’ is associated with women ‘coming onto the streets’. While the heroic portrayal of women leaving their homes and coming out on the streets is well documented, we need to understand the lives of those ordinary middle-class women who could not cross the domestic threshold. How did these women engage with nationalist politics despite social constraints of purdah segregation and low rates of literacy? What activities did these women undertake in the domestic sphere and what were their perceptions of the movement? The following chapters will hopefully bridge the gap between elite women’s lives and those ordinary middle-class women’s activities that have not been documented, but without whose contribution the movement could not have sustained itself during such a long struggle for independence.

Notes 1 The westernised Indians belonged to the upper castes and were referred to as westernised elites or westernised middle class. David Washbrook gives the example of 1920s Madras Presidency when the Congress broke into three factions. One faction collaborated with the British by entering the elections and joining the provincial legislative assembly, one faction boycotted the same legislative assembly and joined Gandhi’s non-cooperation campaign and the third faction maintained a half-way distance between collaboration and outright non-cooperation. While emphasising the complexity of Indian politics, Washbrook suggested that western educated leaders of the collaborationist group were supported by rich landlords and big merchants and were dependent both on the support of the colonial rulers and those with local influence. 2 The school’s approach is critically reviewed in Mukherjee (1988). 3 Aparna Basu’s (1976) insightful work sees women’s issues developing in tandem with the stages of nationalist activity. She identifies three stages of the women’s movement in India: first, the social reform activities of the 19th century; second, the increased emphasis on women’s education from the mid-19th century onwards; and third, women’s political involvement. As she argues, from the third stage onwards, ‘women’s emancipation movement was no longer the ideal of a few social reformers, but part of a much bigger political crusade’ (1976: 39). 4 Vijay Agnew (1979) delineates three categories of women in nationalist politics: first, women who were not members of any political organisation and were just part of the general population; second, women who were

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6

7

8

9

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involved only in specific Gandhian activities, for example, spinning the charkha, weaving khadi or living in ashrams, and third, a small elite group of women who were involved publicly and participated in all aspects of the movement (1979: 10). The word was associated with the West and conveyed unpatriotic and antimale images. It was unpatriotic because it suggested that women placed their own demands before those of the nation, and it was anti-male because it depicted men as adversaries (Forbes 1982: 529). The issue of an alliance between the women’s movement and nationalism and the possibility of friction occurring within the women’s movement is best reflected in the writings of Gandhi and Shah (1992) and Jana Everett (1981). On the issue of franchise, the Indian women’s movement was split into two factions. Women affiliated to the nationalist movement and adhering to an equal rights approach wanted adult franchise and gender equality, as opposed to the women’s upliftment faction who were interested in limited female enfranchisement as well as reservation of seats. The interests of the latter group coincided with British interests, while the former maintained good relations with Congress leaders (Gandhi and Shah 1992: 17; Everett 1981: 195). Chattopadhyay was a socialist leader in the nationalist movement, as well as secretary of the All India Women’s Conference (AIWC), a nationalist organisation which adopted an equal rights approach, emphasised co-education, reform of marriage laws and economic equality. She saw national bodies like the AIWC as important to the women’s movement because they ‘funnelled women’s aspirations, plans (and) projects’ (Chattopadhyay 1983: 7). She identified the complexities and ambiguities which women’s organisations experienced in deliberations with the British government around three issues: adult suffrage, the issue of a joint electorate and the reservation of seats for women (ibid.: 100). Ranajit Guha (1997) argues that a unified front was important to enable the Indian bourgeoisie to achieve their hegemonic goals. Thus it was important to reduce the divisiveness emerging from caste, class, gender and regional interests (100–102). The symbolic constructs of Bharatmata/Mother India were successfully used to signify this unity. Elite women leaders such as Sarojini Naidu and Swaruprani Nehru reiterated that solidarity of womanhood was the foundation of national progress (The Leader, 3 March 1930, p. 5). Gail Minault’s study highlights how the ideological differences between the liberals and radicals (though integrated later) were reflected in their views on the position of Indian women. The liberals argued for social and educational reforms for women that would help reform the domestic sphere, as well as help women become more enlightened companions to their husbands. The cultural nationalists on the other hand did not want

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14 15

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any legislative interference in their domestic lives. Their response to foreign rule was to look deeper into the Indian traditions. However, both these ideological positions believed that ‘women act not as individuals but as members of families’ (Minault 1981: 8). Engels has argued that the educated Bengali middle class encouraged British intervention when it supported the patriarchal gendered relations within the domestic sphere, but opposed any acts which threatened these relations. The Age of Consent Bill initiative by the British government to raise the age of consent from 10 to 12 years was opposed by the Bengali Hindu middle class, and soon became a dead letter. They however welcomed the Restitution of Conjugal Rights (1793) (Engels 1989: 427). In the context of Western industrial modernity, Anne McClintock argues that domesticity was a ‘dimension of male as well as female identities— shifting and unstable as these were—and an indispensable element both of the industrial market and the imperial enterprise’ (1995: 5). Domesticity was not something that could be understood only in terms of the domestic realm, but as instrumental in re-inventing race and sustaining imperialism. Himani Banerjee (1995) argues that the printing presses were swamped by material in the form of tracts, plays and novels on domesticity, and conjugal, moral and practical education for the Bengali bhadramahila. However, this process was not a blind acceptance of ‘westernisation’; instead, ‘attempts at understanding what is “civilization” and how to achieve it contained thorough searches of and reflections on both indigenous and European practices and values. Ambiguity and criticism regarding both marked most of the attempts at synthesising and imitating’ (1995: 70). George L. Mosse’s seminal work Nationalism and Sexuality (1985) argues that nationalism not only idealises national manhood but also represents national womanhood as the ‘guardian of the traditional order’ (Mosse 1985: 17). The ‘woman as a national symbol was the guardian of the continuity and immutability of the nation, the embodiment of its respectability’ (ibid.: 18). Andrew Parker et al. (1992) in their book Nationalisms and Sexualities offer a critical analysis of the relationship between national identities and the metaphorical constrict of the ‘nation as woman’. Antoinette Burton’s (1997) analysis of Janaki Majumdar’s narrative of her parents (W.C. Bonerjee and Hemangini Motilal) in colonial Bengal represents the ‘intimate’ connections between the home and the nation and the ways in which nationalist politics shaped the domestic sphere. ‘The house was by no means a private space: it was routinely intruded upon by nationalist reformers and their supporters…’ (1997: 932). Though the book looks specifically at ‘ordinary’ middle-class women, its relevance and importance was assisted by seminal contributions over the past decade on gender and nation: the different ways in which nationalisms

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are ‘gendered’, ‘performed’ ‘consumed’ and ‘invented’. Nira Yuval-Davis (1997; and with Floya Anthias 1993), McClintock (1997), the edited collection by Parker et al. (1992) and the recent collection by Mayer (2000) all go some way towards analysing the complexities of gender relations within nationalisms. The importance of these writings also lies in their alerting us to go beyond Eurocentric models of nationalism.

Chapter 2

POLITICAL ENVIRONMENT

T

IN

INDIA

HE 1920S WERE a watershed for women’s participation in the Congress-led nationalist movement in India. The Khilafat/ non-cooperation movement initiated the boycott of government institutions, legislatures and law enforcing bodies. Nationwide strikes, hartals, satyagrahas and breaking of government laws were organised. Women’s participation was limited in these agitations, and only those women participated whose male family members had joined the struggle or were serving gaol sentences. In such cases the nationalistic character of the family was clearly influential (Basu 1976: 37). The 1930s satyagraha saw a significant increase in the participation of women. Besides Gandhi’s special appeal to women, women’s organisations and women’s entry into legislative councils provided an additional impetus to women’s participation. In the 1940s, against the backdrop of World War II, the British government, through emergency ordinances, was determined to crush any political activities of the Congress, particularly a mass movement. Women’s participation took the shape of individual satyagraha, anti-war speeches and underground activities. There were regional differences and variations in the intensity of women’s involvement and the nature of activities. Maharashtra and Bengal took the lead in the non-cooperation movement. In Bombay, the District Congress Committee (DCC) carried out Congress propaganda along with District Volunteer boards (DVBs) (AICC File No. G8/1928, NMML). Women while simultaneously members of the DCC and DVBs also formed their own political organisations such as the Rashtriya Stree Sabha, an independent women’s organisation under the presidency of Sarojini Naidu and vice-presidency of Goshiben Naoroji and

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Avantikabai Gokhale. Avantikabai Gokhale along with Kamaladevi Chattopadhayay were among the first few women to make salt from seawater during the 1930 satyagraha. The individuals who joined these organisations demonstrated strong commitment to the nationalist cause (Pearson 1979: 160). In a nationalist appeal the Rashtriya Stree Sabha urged their ‘sisters’ to ‘come to the aid of the motherland in this hour of supreme need. A free India means free womanhood’. Independence of the nation and women’s own emancipation was part of this political programme (‘RSS Appeal’, BC, 28 March 1930, p. 6). As the movement intensified in the 1930s, the Rashtriya Stree Sabha developed a smaller organisation under its wing called DSS (Desh Sevika Sangh) which effectively conducted the picketing of cloth and liquor shops (Hitavada, 30 October 1930, p. 4; Mahratta, 4 January 1931, p. 5). The DSS constituted itself as a ‘sex segregated political organisation’ and while collaborating with the Congress, maintained its independence (Forbes 1988: 77). Women’s participation in Bombay was helped by the presence of the Christian community and the Parsees who were supportive of female education. The Gujarati population found it easier to align themselves with Gandhi, a leader from their own community (ibid.: 130). This was coupled with women’s organisations such as the Hind Mahila Samaj, Gujarati Hindu Stree Mandal, Bhagini Samaj and Saraswat Mahila Samaj who strongly advocated education for girls. Education would assist women ‘not in what they wanted to achieve but what had to be achieved for the nation’ (Mahratta, 17 April 1932, p. 5). Women who were more active were drawn from a narrow social base, mostly educated till the sixth standard in vernacular, and referred to as the ‘female intelligentsia’ (Minault 1981: 14; Pearson 1979: 160). Besides the salt satyagraha, the ‘female intelligentsia’ mobilised peasants for the forest satyagraha, which involved non-payment of grazing fees and cutting grass and timber from reserved forests. This was confined to Nagar East, West Khandesh, Nasik and Poona, and women leaders made the talukas and districts aware of the repression of the government (BC, 10 May 1930). In Bengal, a movement similar to the breaking of forest laws in Maharashtra was the nochowkidari tax movement in the south-western and eastern districts of Bengal. Women took on leadership roles after their men were imprisoned, and the police were particularly brutal with rural women, with evidence of molestation, lathi charges and firing (Sarkar 1984: 97).

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From highly orthodox urban sectors of Bengal, many Marwari and Gujarati Hindu women as well as Muslim women from conservative backgrounds participated in demonstrations and picketing. The movement was organised by C.R. Das, a Congress leader, his wife Basanti Devi and his sister Urmilla Devi. Women were involved in picketing cloth shops and selling khaddar on the streets in defiance of the government ban on political activities and political demonstrations. The women organised themselves with a political focus under the Mahila Rashtriya Sangha (MRS), which started in 1928 under the leadership of Latika Ghosh. This organisation was associated but not integrated with the Congress, which gained a stronghold in certain areas such as Midnapur. The MRS, like the Rashtriya Stree Sabha, looked at its goals of achieving independence and women’s emancipation as being intertwined. In 1929, the Nari Satyagraha Samiti was formed in Calcutta in response to the Congress demands. Middle-class urban women in Bengal participated in boycotts and processions through Nari Satyagraha Samitis and students’ associations (ibid.). The MRS and Rashtriya Stree Sabha in Bengal and Bombay shared similar goals. They saw India’s independence and improvement of women’s social status as interdependent goals. As long as women’s lives were not improved the nation could never be free, and until the nation was not free women’s conditions would not improve. The other dimension of political activity in Bengal were the revolutionary activities inspired by Bengali prose and poetry, such as Saratchandra Chattopadhyay’s Pather Dabi (ibid.: 99). Most women who got involved with revolutionary groups were students and joined secret societies after they had worked with women’s organisations and with the Congress. The organisations Jugantar and Chaatri Sangha arranged study classes, swimming centres, libraries and youth hostels. Later, in 1930, Surya Sen headed the Indian Republican Army which led the famous attack on the city of Chittagong. Bengal, Maharashtra and Punjab reported most of the militant activities (Kasturi and Majumdar 1994: 158). Women’s political demonstrations in Madras were more subdued than in Bengal or Bombay. Though women picketed and marched in processions, it was always difficult to mobilise large numbers of women for action. There was also a debate within the Madras Congress as to whether Gandhi’s leadership should be accepted, as the Congress was perceived to

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be more a party of the Brahmin elite. In Madras, C. Rajagopalachari, a leading member of the Congress, was more concerned with prohibition than with foreign cloth. Rajagopalachari was secretary of the prohibition league of India and member-in-charge of the anti-drink campaign of the Indian National Congress. He felt the anti-drink issue was one that transcended caste and community and had the potential to unite people in a struggle against the government. However, picketing liquor shops was seen as inappropriate for women. There was the formation of the Women’s Swadeshi League under the aegis of Shrimati S. Ambujammal and Krishna Rau who organised the Desh Sevika Sangh (women serving the country). Their activities included selling khaddar, joining prabhat pheris and preaching the true value of swadeshi. A region that formed part of Madras Presidency under the aegis of British rule and was renowned for the participation of women was the East Godavari district of Andhra Pradesh. It was also well-known for its social and cultural progress and ideas of social reform, which seemed to seep in from Bengal (see Wolkowitz 1987, and Subba Rao 1994: 111, cited in Kasturi and Majumdar). The links between women’s education and the ‘rising of India as a nation’ were drawn. Vidyalayas were instrumental in spreading education among girls in the Andhra region (Subba Rao 1994: 119). Only a few women led the race, such as Duvvuri Subbamma and Durgabai Deshmukh, who later became a member of the Constituent Assembly in 1946. Deshmukh in post-independence India strongly supported the Hindu Code Bill and established the Andhra Mahila Sabha in Madras which grew into a complex of institutions, hospitals/training schools, working women’s hostels (ibid.: 122). Subbamma was particularly inspired by Gandhi’s speeches, and despite a socially restrictive environment, participated in the movement. She then urged other women to do so too. Most of these prominent women leaders had the support of their husbands and were members of the AICC, and some held elective official posts at the district level. Women’s participation may not have been ‘quantitatively high’, but ‘qualitatively’ their participation was significant (Subba Rao 1994: 111–23). In independent India, many women were awarded honours and titles in recognition of their services to the nation. Bihar on the other hand was reeling under disabilities such as purdah, early marriage, widowhood and illiteracy. For example, only eight females

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out of every 1,000 were literate (Sinha 1994: 158). According to the 1921 Census, out of a total percentage of literates of 4.94, the percentage of literate women was 0.66. The wives of local leaders such as Prabhawati (daughter of Brajkishore Prasad), Rajbansi Devi (wife of Rajendra Babu) and Bhagwati Devi (sister of Rajendra Babu) spearheaded their protests against purdah, untouchability and illiteracy, and also initiated the entry of women into the freedom struggle. These women leaders were supported by their fathers, husbands and brothers. Women participated in all three phases of the movement: the commencement of the non-violent struggle under the leadership of Gandhi in 1920–21, its development and expansion in 1930–42, and the Quit India movement in 1940–42. The first phase of the movement was led by Sarla Debi of Hazaribagh and Savitiri Devi of Patna. In January 1929 the All India Women’s Conference was held at Patna. A Bihar women’s constituent conference was also organised and resolutions were passed in support of the Sarda Act against the purdah and dowry systems, and a demand was made for measures to increase female education in Bihar. This has been recognised as the first phase of the movement followed by such nationalist work in the 1920s as collecting funds for the Congress party and providing support to the families of freedom fighters. ‘Countless women contributed to the cause of freedom by bearing patiently the hardships which followed the participation of male family members in the household’ (ibid.: 172). However, this recognition has been marginalised in historical tracts. At least 5,000 to 6,000 women participated in the anti-government processions, and some sixty women have been recognised as having been organisers and active participants in the movement (Kasturi and Mazumdar 1994: 173). The picketing of foreign cloth was particularly successful due to the efforts of women, and the district of Monghyr witnessed the maximum activity and arrests (ibid.). The socio-economic and educational background of some of the important women activists in Bihar shows that socially, the majority belonged to the Hindu higher-caste community and families of landlords and zamindars. The majority of them were from villages and small towns. Any education imparted to them was done so informally at their in-laws’ homes and none of them took part in the movement independently of their husbands. A few such as Shakuntala Devi were highly

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educated (an MA from Kashi University). The social reform movement which had reached Bihar in trickles, as well as efforts to spread women’s education, found a better response among Bengali families in Bihar than among the native Biharis. This probably accounts for the absence of organised participation by young college girls in the nationalist movement as in Bengal and Maharashtra. Instead in Bihar there was the entry of small town semi-literate middle-class married women into the freedom struggle. After Independence most of them returned to being housewives while some continued to participate in public life.1 Krishna Devi was elected to the Vidhan Sabha in 1952, and Shakuntala Devi and Shanti Devi were nominated to the legislative council. Others took up social work or worked for the spread of women’s education, focusing on different aspects such as schools or political education. Some devoted themselves to the Mahila Charka Samiti in Patna, an organisation that was concerned with the education of poor girls and home-based income generating activities for poor women. The entry of women into politics was without doubt in response to the call of Gandhi, and was in the main emotional and impulsive. Their non-violent participation in the freedom movement did not constitute a radical break from their normal daily lives. In Gujarat, the whole Sarabhai household was involved in the nationalist movement. Ambalal Sarabhai, the elite Calico Mills textile magnate, his wife Sarla Devi and their daughter Mridula Sarabhai were to play a central role in galvanising the national movement. In 1930 Mridula Sarabhai became a member of the Indian National Congress and was chosen as a delegate from Ahmedabad for the Lucknow session in 1936. She was also a member of the AICC as a delegate from Gujarat in 1936–37. In 1917 Anasuyaben Sarabhai, sister of Ambalal Sarabhai, led the textile labourers’ strike in Ahmedabad and founded the Ahmedabad textile labourers association. The leadership comprised women from business families, such as Sarladevi Sarabhai, Mridula Sarabhai and Mithubehn Petit (Basu 1995: 4). The involvement of women in really large numbers in the freedom struggle began with the non-cooperation and Khilafat movements in the 1920s. Simple and unsophisticated rural women participated in the Borsad (1923–24) and Bardoli (1928) satyagrahas in Gujarat (ibid.). To popularise the boycott of foreign clothes in

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1930–31, the Videsh Kapda Bahiskar Samiti (Association for the Boycott of Foreign Cloth) was formed in Ahmedabad with Sarla Devi as its president. It organised processions in which women wearing saffron-coloured khadi saris sang patriotic songs and marched through the streets of Ahmedabad (ibid.). Mridula Sarabhai on the other hand organised the Vanar Sena of children and also prabhat pheris which moved around the city at dawn to the accompaniment of drums, bugles and manjiras (cymbals) (ibid.). Mridula Sarabhai was aware that women who had participated in the civil disobedience movement should not go back home, and in her conversations with Gandhi it was clear that he shared her sentiments (ibid.: 7). Following this a women’s organisation, run by women for women, and named the Jyoti (light) Sangh, was established in 1934. Gandhi laid its foundation in the Mirzapur area of Ahmedabad. Jyoti Sangh was a women’s organisation and not a political organisation. It encouraged women’s empowerment and economic self-sufficiency through education and vocational training. It also raised women’s awareness on social justice issues such as violation of the Sarda Act (marriage of girls under the prescribed age), domestic violence and issues related to social inequalities (ibid.: 10). In 1942, when the Quit India movement was launched, Sarabhai established contact with the ‘underground movement’ led by Jayaprakash Narayan, Aruna Asaf Ali, Ram Manohar Lohia and others, and helped them financially. In north India,2 the movement was organised by a few elite households such as the Nehrus and the Zutshis.3 In particular, Uttar Pradesh (UP), the Hindi-speaking heartland of Bharat (India), was to play an important role. It was home to the Muslim elite who were instrumental in creating and sustaining educational and political institutions. In the 1920s the administrative divisions were referred to as United Provinces of Agra and Awadh (see Kumar 1983). Until the 1940s, it was divided into two distinct regions: western UP and the doab area (the fertile tract of the country between the two rivers Ganga and Yamuna), and eastern UP and Awadh.4 In the early 20th century the doab was to emerge as one of the richest areas in British India. In India in the 1920s, 89 per cent out of a population of 46 million lived in rural areas, and for the first half of the century agriculture accounted for about 75 per cent of the workforce, though the districts of western

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UP had a relatively low percentage of the workforce in agriculture (about 67 per cent) and a higher percentage in manufacturing. For example, as compared to other districts in UP, Aligarh and Hathras were important industrial and trading centres with industries ranging from lock and metal works to cotton ginning and pressing factories (Hasan 1988: 332). In contrast, eastern UP (for example Gorakhpur), due to uneven capitalist development, had a higher percentage (about 80 per cent) of the workforce in agriculture. Despite some industrial advancement in the first half of the 20th century, UP remained a largely agrarian province. Uttar Pradesh had three distinct tenurial arrangements under British annexation. In eastern UP the British made arrangements with individual landowners called zamindars (on similar lines as in Bengal), whereas in western UP the village communities (mahal) rather than individuals were responsible for delivering revenue to the British. In Awadh, after the 1857 uprising, the British resumed the taluqdari settlements, the Awadh equivalent of the zamindari system. The landlords who stayed loyal to the British through government awards and concessions became more prosperous (ibid.: 36). The taluqdari settlement of 1858 gave the taluqdars ownership rights of the land (Kumar 1989: 338). Lower down in the hierarchy, in these three tenurial arrangements, were smaller landlords and rich peasants who held substantial landholdings. Further below were middle peasants who cultivated their own land and lived on its produce, and a large number of poor peasants who worked on the lands of other peasants and the landless rural proletariat. There was not much distinction between the poor peasants and the landless rural proletariat (Pandey 1978: 17; see also Stokes 1975). In the post-revolt period, most of the tenantry in UP as a whole were nonoccupancy tenants with very little protection from the landlords. Besides, the tenants had to pay nazrana (a form of tax). This was more visible in eastern UP and Avadh, and the caste system—particularly in Avadh—also further disadvantaged the rural proletariat. In relation to this, western UP did not show extreme caste differences. In fact in Shahjahanpur, tenants could have occupancy rights and there was little distinction between rent-paying tenants and revenue-paying proprietors (Hasan 1988: 38). The biggest spur to political protest was the economic crisis that followed World War I, leading to industrial retrenchment and the closing

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down of mills and factories. A wide spectrum of the population from peasants to the lower-middle classes in the cities were affected, and in particular the unprotected tenants rose up in protest in 1920–21 (Pandey 1978: 24). The landlords did not reduce their demands, despite these conditions of scarcity, and exacted higher revenues from the tenants, who were sometimes forced to give up their land. The tenants protested against the immediate oppressor, the landlord and the rich peasant … but they protested also, by implication and to some extent consciously, against the oppressor’s protector, the British Raj (ibid.: 23).

The taluqdars in order to aid the British robbed the tenants in the name of larai chanda (war donation) and bharti chanda (recruitment cess). In Avadh, women taluqdars notoriously exacted rents from the tenants. In August–September 1920, Baba Ramchandra of Avadh was to lead one of the most militant peasant movements in north India against the British. The Kisan Sabha emerged as a body that wanted both agrarian reforms and improvement in women’s social conditions (Kumar 1989: 347). The UP Congress leadership was responsive to the growing peasant unrest, and the landless and smaller peasants joined Congress ranks with the hope that Gandhi would restore their lands back to them (Sarkar 1983: 224). In Avadh peasant women were organised under the Kisanin Panchayat, which functioned as a branch of the Praja Sangh organised by Ram Chandra. One of the aims of the Kisanin Panchayat was political mobilisation for the national movement (Kumar 1989: 359). The 1921 Census of India included under the category ‘urban’ cities, district headquarters, suburbs and smaller market towns. These ‘urban’ areas, many barely distinguishable from their rural surroundings, were home to the earliest nationalist agitators. Teachers and journalists from petty landholding families who had sought alternative employment, either to supplement their agricultural incomes or simply because they would not touch the plough, minor lawyers, students and other men of rural background provided a good number of non-cooperators (Pandey 1978: 11).

In the cities and towns the economic dislocation affected not only lower middle-class men with inelastic incomes but also the poorer

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section comprising people such as petty vendors and errand runners. Along with the peasants they provided the social basis of political mobilisation in UP. Moreover, young men and women who were literate and had been educated in English or some vernacular ‘provided most of the active cadres of the Congress and other parties in the 1920s and later’ (Pandey 1978: 27). The number of educational institutions in UP (universities and affiliated colleges) as well as the students enrolled in them increased between 1917 and 1927. Allahabad University emerged as a home to many prominent political and literary figures. This explains to some extent why the latter was referred to as the city of intellectual elites. Allahabad can boast of having been the home of many a prominent political and literary figure. (It) takes pride not only in Motilal and Jawaharlal Nehru, in Madan Mohan Malviya, C.Y. Chintamani and Tej Bahadur Sapru but is equally proud of its literary giants, Nirala, Pant, Mahadevi and Akbar IIahabadi (Rao 1994: 29).

Further universities were established at Benares, Aligarh, Agra and Meerut. Nationalist leaders regarded education as important for understanding the significance of the nationalist movement. At a conference in Allahabad presided over by Dr Ganga Nath Jha, Mrs Atiya Begum of Bombay said: The present system of education was the chief cause for the demoralisation of Indian nationalism and until it was revolutionised there can be no hope for improvement. Students’ aim should not be to obtain degrees for service as slaves but to discharge their duty towards their motherland (Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Allahabad, Saturday, 17 Jan 1931, p. 60).

‘Service as slaves’ referred to Indians who sought employment with the British Raj. The rise of the incidence of unemployment among the educated youth also increased the count of people available for political work.

KEY POLITICAL PARTIES

IN

UP

IN THE

1920S

AND

1930S

The 1920s were important for the development of a broad-based Congress organisation and accompanying Congress committees. The

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Congress made direct efforts to involve ‘broader masses’ (workers and peasants) through its policy of Harijan uplift (acchutoddhar) and through the formation of the Congress Socialist Party in 1934 (Pandey 1978: 32). The United Provinces became one of the strongholds of the Congress during the non-cooperation campaign, and the party held a commanding position with a membership of 328,966 in July 1921 (Sarkar 1983: 222). One of my respondents Shri Durgadas Bhattacharya stated: During the 1930s the Congress was considered to be a large organisation and many people were attracted towards it. They thought that it was only the Congress that could take them ahead. This had an effect on myself and I joined the Congress ranks (excerpt from transcript of interview with Shri Durgadas Bhattacharya).

Alongside the efficient volunteer organisations associated with the Congress party (mainly Hindu) was the Khilafat (Muslim) organisation, with the latter exclusively attracting Muslims. The Congress and Khilafat leaders worked together ‘for common aims but through separate organisations’, and though many Muslim volunteers joined the Congress ranks, ‘the initial separation of the volunteer association along communal lines was bound to be divisive in the long run’ (Pandey 1978: 37). The non-cooperation movement precipitated the widening gulf between religious communities. The Hindu Mahasabha and other sectarian organisations like the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) founded in 1925 (the leading figures of the RSS tended to be from the upper castes) strongly advocated the formation of a ‘Hindu Raj’ which reflected only Hindu culture (Pandey 1990: 235).5 In the 1930s, at a few public meetings, prominent leaders associated ‘the coming of swaraj’ with ‘the conversion of Mohammedans into Hindus which would serve as revenge against the tyrannies perpetuated by them in olden times’ (Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Vol. XLVIII, Allahabad, Saturday, 11 January 1930, No. 1, p. 2). In response to Hindu communal associations, the Muslim League under the leadership of Jinnah sought to preserve the Muslim majority areas from domination by Hindus and also raised demands for separate electorates, a demand ‘that would remain basic to Muslim communalism till the 1940 demand for Pakistan’ (Sarkar 1983: 235).

Two: Political Environment in India

WOMEN

IN

65

UP POLITICS

UP was steeped in ignorance with prevalence of social practices such as child marriage and purdah. The 1921 Census suggests that out of every 1,000 girls, only six were literate (Rao 1994: 32). The total literacy figures for the under-tens being 10,607 out of a total population in that age group of nearly six million. The Census figures for literacy changed only marginally in 1930. Despite this social context, women participated from districts such as Kanpur, Lucknow, Benares, Gorakhpur and Allahabad (ibid.: 38). Their participation was not as strong as in Bombay and Bengal, but was still significant (Home Pol., 1933, File No. 3/11). The leadership of the movement was provided by a few elite families, primarily the Nehru household in Allahabad. Women’s rights were articulated by women of the Nehru household, though during organisation of women’s processions they became aware of the strength of conservative attitudes. In 1909 the Prayag Mahila Samiti was formed by Rameshwari Nehru in Allahabad, and by 1914 had an attendance of about 200 women.6 The Prayag Mahila Samiti articulated issues which were concerned with women’s ‘enlightenment’, social reforms, women’s education and women’s political participation, though the participation of these meetings remained confined to elite women (Rao 1994: 30; Talwar 1989: 207). These issues were also articulated in magazines published in Allahabad such as Stree Darpan and Chand (Rao 1994: 31). In 1926 Sarojini Naidu, in a speech organised by the Prayag Mahila Samiti, told women that it was they who were the custodians of the destiny of race and that they must begin to exercise their rights. In UP a social council and a women’s political council were set up in the late 1920s to spread greater social and political awareness (ibid.: 37). Uttar Pradesh surfaced again when ten women contested for legislative assembly seats following the 1935 Government of India Act. Vijaylakshmi Pandit became the minister for local self-government in the G.B. Pant ministry in 1937, and along with Uma Nehru played an important role in pushing for an early convening of the Constituent Assembly. However, in the 1940s, women did not play such an active role in the provincial legislative assemblies and their participation in formal politics dwindled.

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Two aspects are important: first, that unlike in Bengal, Bombay and Gujarat, in UP there were no formal women’s or women’s-only political organisations, so the social base was confined to elite women. Education also reflected women’s ability to form organisations. For example in Bombay women’s organisations played a significant role in facilitating the development of political consciousness and political socialisation. While women were not integrated in political decision-making in the Congress during the early half of the 20th century, they had established a tradition of their own women’s organisations. This did not happen in UP. Women’s organisations were the ‘safe havens’ for women from conservative backgrounds, and since they did not develop in UP in any concrete way, the public-private negotiation was even more difficult for these women. For many women, it was a difficult transition from the home into the public sphere. Though the Nehru women held emancipatory ideas, the social norms did not permit them at that particular historical moment because of conservatism and also because they were not part of any formal women’s organisations where their ideas could be channelised adequately. Though education may have enabled a few to articulate feminist issues, it did not enable them to act on them. Second, the dominant trend of illiteracy may not have allowed ideas to be absorbed from the magazines. However, illiteracy did not stop political consciousness from developing. Rao suggests that ‘practically illiterate women … were beginning to hear of the progressive women’s magazines, even if they could not read them’ (Rao 1994: 35). No simple reason for women’s participation can be identified in the Hindi belt. Some shared a romantic vision of swaraj and for some Gandhi’s political ideology and assurance was important. But then again women followed Gandhi for different reasons. Some followed him because of personal choice and some because the men in their families accepted his leadership. This was particularly true in the case of the Nehru family. Women in the Nehru household became supporters of Gandhi when Jawaharlal Nehru and his father recognised his leadership. These women set an example for the general populace by taking bold initiatives. With this precedent, it was easier for other women to step over the thresholds of their homes. A gender-specific non-violent programme, segregation and respectability in the public sphere were some values that were transferred from the domestic sphere. Some

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women had a desire to share in the privations and sufferings of their men and some were compelled to take cognisance of the movement. Some were inspired by patriotic feelings and looked to India’s freedom as their goal. Many were initiated into political activity through the general political atmosphere expressed in books, songs and slogans (Basu 1976: 37). It is widely accepted that women stepped out in the public domain for the nationalist cause and stepped back into the private sphere ‘in their roles as mothers, wives and sisters’ once the movement was over (Rao 1999: 317). Two qualifications are important here: first, it would be incorrect to say that all women went back to their homes after Independence. Their involvement, though limited for the majority, created spaces where issues such as education, social reform and women’s public engagement were encouraged. More importantly, it carved out political niches for the younger generations. Second, many middle-class women did not step out in the public domain but continued to contribute and support the nationalist movement. For these women, the domestic sphere was a site of nationalist activity, and they created a political space within the confines of its four walls.

Notes 1 Krishna Devi, Shakuntala Devi, Shanti Devi and Ram Pyari were elected to various government bodies. 2 North India included the United Provinces (Awadh, and the ceded and conquered Provinces), the Central Indian States, the Central Provinces, Punjab, Rajputana and Kashmir (Kumar 1983: 242). 3 It was home to the Muslim elite who were instrumental in creating and sustaining educational and political institutions. In 1921 Muslims constituted about 14.5 per cent of the population (Pandey 1978: 25). 4 Districts that fell within these broad divisions in UP and were politically active were Allahabad, Aligarh, Muttra, Bara-Banki, Benares, Bulandshahar, Pratabgarh, Cawnpore (present-day Kanpur), Farrukhabad, Faizabad, RaeBarelli, Jalaun, Lucknow, Mainpuri, Shahjahanpur, Meerut, Mirzapur, Moradabad and Sitapur (see Bayly 1983). 5 Since then these organisations have formed coalitions and promoted communalism (Basu et al. 1993: 2). In 1989 the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) was an important sectarian organisation and was supported by the Bharatiya Janata Party (Thapar 1990: 365). One of the programmes of the

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VHP for mass mobilisation has been to convert Dalits and tribals to Hinduism. 6 Rameshwari was married to a Pandit (a Brahmin caste), and found her public career linked with that of the family of Pandit Motilal and Jawaharlal Nehru. In 1917, she was part of the women’s delegation to the MontaguChelmsford Committee asking for equitable representation of women in electoral and legislative politics. In 1926 she became founder-president of the Delhi Women’s League, and in 1928 became a member of the Government of India’s Age of Consent Committee (Nehru 1950: 9).

Chapter 3

PRIVATE VALUES

AND

PUBLIC LIVES

The Domestication of Public Participation

INTRODUCTION The decision of the All India Congress to undertake civil disobedience resulted after a series of political disappointments with the British government. In fact, Lord Birkenhead, the Conservative Secretary of State responsible for the appointment of the Simon Commission, had highlighted the fact that Indians were unable to draw up a schema of constitutional reforms that were supported by the wider Indian population. Following on from this, the All Parties Conference held at Delhi and Poona in 1928 drew up the Nehru Report, and submitted it in August 1928. The sub-committee was headed by Motilal Nehru (Nehru 1982: 172). The report also recommended universal adult suffrage and equal rights for women. However, in December 1928, at the annual session of the Congress at Calcutta, both the Muslim League and the Hindu Mahasabha expressed discontentment with the Nehru Report. A consensus was reached that the British government would be provided a period of one year to accede to the demands of dominion status, failing which the Congress would demand complete independence (purna swaraj) and also initiate civil disobedience. In May 1929, the Conservative government in Britain made way for the new Labour government headed by Ramsay McDonald, and the Viceroy Lord Irwin participated in consultations. However, Lord Irwin gave no concrete assurance as to when dominion status would be implemented. In an impassioned speech at the Lahore Congress of 1929 Jawaharlal Nehru asked his ‘countrymen and countrywomen’ to join the struggle for

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Purna Swaraj or complete independence (see Gopal 1975: Vol. 4, 197). On 31 December 1929 the tricolour flag of Indian independence was hoisted, and 26 January 1930 was fixed as the first Independence Day accompanied with the song Jhanda Uncha Raihe Hamara.1 The independence pledge outlined India’s deprivation economically, politically, culturally and spiritually. Gandhi was authorised by the Congress working committee to initiate the civil disobedience movement (see Tendulkar 1969: Vol. 3, 8–10). One of the most significant features of the next four years from 1930 to 1934 was the participation of women in the nationalist movement on an unprecedented scale (Basu 1976; Agnew 1979; Rao 1994). Hordes of women pouring out of their homes. Women of all classes and castes, high and low, gave their support to the national movement. The processions taken out by women, their untiring picketing of cloth and liquor shops, their persuasive appeals for swadeshi are even today marvelled at (Rao 1994: 38).

There are limited statistics on the numbers of women who participated. The available government records give an indication of the number of convictions only, though not on the actual number of women who participated (Table 3.1).2 These were primarily ordinary middle-class women, women students, teachers and ordinary housewives who were not necessarily educated (Basu 1976: 26). Ordinary middle-class women entered the public sphere without disassociating themselves from domestic ideology. Gandhi’s non-violent programme facilitated the process of carrying over of domestic values into their new public roles. The domestication of the public sphere made it safe, indeed desirable, for women to participate and come out of their homes.

FAMILY DYNAMICS It is important to emphasise that these political upheavals were a trying period in many women’s lives, particularly those who had so far led a life of seclusion within the domestic sphere. The emergence of these women in public politics was problematic and difficult. Moreover, the dynamics within households influenced the level of commitment and

M

W

January

Tot

M

2,051 1,241 322 1,557 261 65

79

117 36

– 4 –

Tot

M

– 1 –

90 30

17

160 106 5

750 380

918

98 66 4

395 161

813

60 1,160 1,051 45 421 87 – – –

16 296 244 88 1,485 1,408 76 1,192 601

W

March Tot

– 2 –

40 5

28

98 68 4

435 166

841

78 1,129 7 94 – –

17 261 74 1,482 47 648

W

April

227 155 –

327 124

658

545 128 –

208 732 481

M

– 8 –

21 9

46

32 – –

35 42 24

W

May

227 163 –

348 133

704

577 128 –

243 774 505

Tot

170 72 –

233 74

563

664 146 –

290 740 395

M

– 2 –

10 –

23

17 12 –

17 43 29

W

June

170 74 –

243 74

586

681 158 –

307 783 424

Tot

(Continued)

– 35 36 – 36 28 – 28 15 1 16 28 3 31 954 17,818 6,485 423 6,909 4,956 298 5,254 3,600 218 3,818 3,375 156 3,531

160 105 5

660 350

901

3,008 1,100 475 376 – –

115 33 –

M

455 280 2,892 1,397 5,456 1,116

Tot

47 200 323

W

February

Total Convictions in connection with the Civil Disobedience Movement of 1932

Madras 784 95 879 408 Bombay 2,132 141 2,273 2,692 Bengal 1,592 101 1,693 5,133 United Provinces 3,544 83 3,627 2,893 Punjab 174 15 189 442 Burma – – – – Bihar and Orissa 2,499 41 2,540 1,972 Central Provinces 460 17 477 1,124 Assam 37 5 42 286 Frontier Province 2,760 1 2,761 1,557 Delhi 100 26 126 257 Coorg 127 3 130 65 AjmerMerwara 64 2 66 35 Total 14,273 530 14,803 16,864

Province

Table 3.1

M

M

624 35 –

951

104 29

133 55 –

15 2,974

607 50 –

1,271

174 21

185 92 –

32 3,595

Source: Home Pol., 1933, File No. 3/11.

142 556 330

150 720 293

1 73

– 2 –

– 2

9

17 – –

7 23 12

W

Tot

W

Madras 142 8 Bombay 675 45 Bengal 276 17 United Provinces 585 22 Punjab 50 – Burma – – Bihar and Orissa 1,238 33 Central Provinces 173 1 Assam 21 – Frontier Province 185 – Delhi 86 6 Coorg – – AjmerMerwara 32 – Total 3,463 132

Province

August

July

Table 3.1 (Continued)

266 11 3

59 11

770

501 62 –

147 450 368

M

– 6 –

– 1

14

32 8 –

9 38 31

W

266 17 3

59 12

784

533 70 –

156 488 399

Tot

110 29 12

34 16

437

308 22 –

56 572 255

M

16 4 – 4 10 3,047 2,652 139 2,791 1,861

133 57 –

104 31

960

641 35 –

149 579 342

Tot

September

110 33 12

34 16

437

333 22 –

66 606 258

Tot

41 3 5

18 17

515

312 22 –

122 407 340

M

41 3 5

19 17

516

340 22 –

124 450 357

Tot

82 16 9

33 8

364

346 32 –

49 290 209

M

– – 3

– –

3

36 1 –

17 35 10

W

December

82 16 12

33 8

367

382 33 –

66 325 219

Tot

– 4 2 – 2 92 1,898 1,440 105 1,545

– – –

1 –

1

28 – –

2 43 17

W

November

– 10 4 76 1,937 1,806

– 4 –

– –

–

25 – –

10 34 3

W

October

moti are o and worl was sphe activ prop Utta pher came whic pate. form one o gove polit whic enco Th ent wom befo hous unm In a tions the fami sex.4

Th (a Jha the fro pas urg

Source: Home Pol., 1933, File No. 3/11.

Three: Private Values and Public Lives

73

motivation of individual members and ‘women, particularly in India, are often a sum and product of diverse relationships within the family and kinship nexus’ (Sarkar 1984: 91). The contexts of their social worlds influenced their political convictions and activities. Though it was difficult for women to adjust to political changes in the public sphere, it was less difficult for those born or married into politically active households. The environment was charged with anti-colonial propaganda, and activists believed that nearly all the households in Uttar Pradesh knew about the political crisis. ‘It was in the atmosphere: you could breathe the movement’.3 Sometimes the initiative came from women, but there were differences between households which determined the ease with which women could publicly participate. On the one hand were households which forbid women any form of political activity. Some were anti-nationalist usually because one or more members of the households were employed by the British government. Others were politically indifferent, uninterested in the politics developing around them. On the other hand were households which were fully immersed in nationalist activities and positively encouraged participation of women and individual family members. These households, constitutive of different social worlds and different social realities, were cross-cut by gender and generation. The woman’s life had two parts, ‘one spent in her pita grah (father’s house) before marriage’ and ‘the other spent in her pati grah’ (husband’s house), after marriage (Upadhyay 1921: 99). The initial awakening of unmarried women towards political issues was in the parental home. In a joint household, the ideas of grandparents and other family relations such as paternal uncles and aunts were influential. Sometimes the politically-involved father encouraged all the members in his family to participate in the movement, irrespective of their age and sex.4 Sridevi Tewari of Kanpur in UP explained: The main inspiration in my life was my father. He had given me a kirpan (a small dagger) to wear and used to exhort me to emulate the Rani of Jhansi. My father used to write fiery patriotic speeches and ask me to read them aloud. My mother was completely illiterate even though she came from an affluent background of zamindars. My mother was mainly a passive spectator though she did attend a few political meetings on the urging of my father. My father also insisted that she wear khadi.5

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There were also households in which the father was a member of a political party and supported the activities of his daughter/s, but not those of his wife, or where all the male members in the household were supporters of the Congress Party but did not encourage political activities by women in the family. Elder women also exercised varying degrees of control over younger male and female members in a joint household. For example, if the male head of the household tried to suppress any form of nationalist activity in his house, the senior woman (mother, grandmother or mother-inlaw) could allow it to go on surreptitiously.6 On the other hand elder women could also stop younger female members from participating. Uma Dixit of Kanpur (Figure 3.1) narrated how her female friends were stopped by their mothers and often locked in their rooms so that they could not escape. In particular, the mother of Madhuri Singh (a friend of Uma Dixit)7 commented on Uma Dixit’s activities: ‘Neta ki ladki, vo to neta hi banegi, tumhe kya karna?’ which meant, ‘A leader’s daughter will always become a leader, but what do you have to do with it?’8 The mother made this comment to stop her own daughter Madhuri Singh from participating. Political involvement was often seen as a ‘family matter’ rather than a purely ‘individual’ political conviction. It was taken for granted that in most situations a male political leader would encourage other members of the family to support the emerging nationalist tradition or follow a similar party ideology as his own. In general unmarried girls faced less prohibition than married women: As Urmilla Goorha of Lucknow commented: We as young girls were free. Though a particular code of conduct was expected from married and unmarried women, the latter were not always expected to conform.9

Women were married between the ages of twelve and sixteen years and moved on to live with their husbands’ families and to thus encounter a new social environment (Rao 1994). Urmilla Goorha elaborated on this: ‘My mother Ganga Devi was married when she was thirteen. At that time only “modern” people married at that age’. Some women had to move from the politically charged atmosphere of their parental homes to their husbands’ homes, where they had to stop all their previous activities.10 Some women stated that their husbands

Three: Private Values and Public Lives

Figure 3.1

75

Uma Dixit of Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh

Born in 1929 as the daughter of the renowned activist and poet Chail Bihari Cuntack. The family moved to Kanpur from Itawah in the 1930s. She along with her mother, Kishori Devi, experienced extreme domestic hardships because of the activities of her father. But they continued to play an active role in the movement.

were officers in British government bodies and did not encourage any affiliation with the nationalist movement. In these circumstances some such as Kaushalya Devi of Aligarh took the opportunity, on visits to her father’s home in Aligarh, to participate in Congress processions.11

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There were also situations where women who in their parental homes had limited opportunities to actively participate were encouraged to do so by their husbands after marriage.12 Vijay Devi Rathore of Etawah, whose mother had supported her limited involvement in the movement despite her father expressing displeasure, married a Congressman who fully supported her involvement: Sanskar Ma ne diya; Sahyog pati ne diya (My mother gave me the values and my husband the support). However, this was at a cost. My father Arjun Singh stopped me from visiting my mother Bitiya in their village and I could not even see my mother when she died.13

In certain circumstances the husband’s immediate family (father and mother) could object to their son’s activities14. Often couples lost their government jobs when they supported nationalist work. Being seen as a financial burden, they were subsequently thrown out of their parent’s homes too. This feature was visible in other parts of the country.15 Although the decision to participate was made within individual households, facilitating women’s participation and keeping it segregated and respectable was part of a much wider process of the domestication of the public sphere.

THE CONSTRUCTION

OF A

DOMESTICATED PUBLIC SPHERE

Nationalist leaders understood the importance of family dynamics in encouraging and inhibiting women’s involvement in public activities. Their dual stress on women fulfilling their duties as mothers within their homes as well as serving the nation was important because it enabled women to participate in the public sphere without dismantling the existing family structure and threatening the prevalent domestic ideology. Particularly the personal and political beliefs of the two Congress Party leaders, Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru, linked different aspects of domestic ideology and women’s public participation. Though the two leaders understood women’s roles in different ways, their anticipation of the important contribution of women (from both their own and other families) to the nationalist movement carved distinct negotiable spaces for women’s political contribution.

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77

Both leaders recognised the importance of social acceptability of women’s public activity undertaken for the nationalist cause. Gandhi tried to use women’s traditional qualities to extend their traditional roles into the political sphere. Although he stressed the equal legal rights of women and men, arguing that women ‘must labour under no legal disability not suffered by man’ (Hingorani 1964: 61), he rejected modern notions of women’s roles, and opposed modern machines, technology and new techniques of birth control. Some considered his views to be obstacles to women’s progress in society. Bhuvneshwar Prasad wrote in the magazine Kamala that without birth control women would be tied to their homes, and it would never be possible for them to be productive members of society. Gandhi’s notions were seen as ‘patriarchal’, embodying the idea that women were ‘inferior’. His vision of establishing a ‘pastoral’ society and ‘drowning the new machines in the oceans’ were seen as ‘revivalist’ and utopian (Prasad 1940: 232–33).16 Gandhi, it is argued, could not fully comprehend women’s subordinate status within the family and religious structures (Rao 1999: 322). However, in many ways Gandhi worked against a predominantly Brahmanical patriarchal order, the feminine nature of his protest touching the sphere of domesticity, an environment where women did not have the formal power of taking positions (Sethi 1996: 307). In emphasising the virtues of female perseverance and non-violence, Gandhi gave the protest a moral quality and emphasised women’s moral strength. It has been argued that Gandhi referred to self-sacrifice and non-violence as ‘manly virtues’. However, the contradiction in Gandhi’s thoughts lay in the fact that while emphasising equality and dignity for women in the household and seeking their participation in the movement, he argued that it would be difficult for women to participate in politics if this came in conflict with their family responsibilities, including their duty to look after children and aged parents in the household (Ahmad 1984: 5). During the civil disobedience movement Gandhi clearly instructed the two women leaders Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay and Khurshedbehn (Dadabhai Naoroji’s granddaughter) that while recruiting female volunteers women should have the permission of their guardians, and that only those with alternative arrangements for the care of their children should participate (Gandhi 1927: 173; Aaj, 29 March 1930, p. 4). Those with children were

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needed at home to provide support for their menfolk’s participation (Gandhi 1942: 202). Though Gandhi’s ideas called for no reorganisation of the family or of the role of men within it, women by being granted the privilege as guardians of the house could now use that constructed ‘sacred’ space for their own nationalist activities. This aspect is important because most of the literature on Gandhi has under-emphasised women’s nationalist engagement within the domestic sphere. Those women who could not cross the threshold of the domestic sphere engaged in activities which supported the movement from within the domestic sphere. As an alternative to married life Gandhi advocated celibacy, which he believed would tap into the nobler nature of women. He believed that married life was a hindrance to social service and national reform. For the woman, whom he saw as having no sexual desires, sex was distasteful and she only engaged in it to fulfil her duties towards her husband. Maintaining sexual puritanism would facilitate women to cross the boundaries and come out to join his campaign. He took the vow of brahmacharya or total sexual abstinence, though without consulting his wife (Caplan 1989: 280). Brahmacharya was a state where the desire for intercourse no longer existed and conservation of semen was related to both bodily and spiritual well-being (ibid.: 276). His ideas of celibacy for women were not dissimilar from the idea of Victorian passionless-ness, though Gandhi articulated it for different ends (Cott 1978). Gandhi also believed that brahmacharya would help men conserve their vital fluids and women to be free from their role as wives. Sex for a man meant a loss of vital fluids and energy.17 Gandhi’s personal life was also ridden with contradictions. Married to Kasturba at the age of twelve, he advocated equality in the household but continually referred to the intellectual differences between himself and his wife, and also tried to restrain her public movements.18 However, Kasturba was not a ‘girl to brook any such thing’ (Gandhi 1927: 9–10). Later on she took over the leadership of the nationalist movement when Gandhi was in prison, and despite her uneasy relationship with her husband, she appealed on his behalf. Gandhi re-invented specific mythological religious characters which embodied the virtues that he thought were necessary to fight for the nationalist cause. It is hugely contested whether Gandhi’s use of

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mythological symbolism was liberating or depoliticised women even further (Rao 1999: 321). Gandhi fully articulated the centrality of religion in Indian life and that together with caste and gender it was inseparable from nation-building, and that the success of the national movement was dependent on resistance through the Hindu concept of ahimsa or non-violence. Gandhi believed that resistance in satyagraha could only be offered through self-suffering, for which women were particularly suited. Gandhi, while emphasising women’s important role in the domestic domain, also argued that ‘woman is the companion of man, gifted with equal mental capacities’ (Young India, 26 March 1918). Mahadevi Verma, a staunch supporter of Gandhi wrote: In the struggle for freedom we gave up our lives, embraced death and in the end, in the 20th century we received Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi gave us a new weapon. The edge and sharpness of that weapon never dulls, that weapon never rusts; no one can break that weapon. That weapon is forged by the heart of man, by the mind of man, by the soul of man. That is the weapon of truth, of Ahimsa, of non-acceptance. In fact it is such a weapon that no one can defeat the person who uses it (Verma 1986: 5).

If Gandhi emphasised the moral and traditional qualities of women, Nehru emphasised the economic content of women’s rights and obligations. His approach was based on more ‘realistic and practical considerations’ (Luthra 1976: 5). Nehru’s earliest political awareness came from his engagement with the socialist philosophy of the Fabians in England. This early contact encouraged Nehru to take a critical view of Indian society and rather than moral exhortation, his speeches reiterated his faith that for women without economic freedom and mental freedom through education, other aspects of gender equality would prove superficial. Family responsibilities were much less important than the economic independence of women. In a speech to women of the Prayag Mahila Vidyapith (printed in the magazine Saraswati), Nehru stated: If a woman is not economically independent and does not earn money herself, she will have to be dependent on her husband or some other man. I realise that your Vidyapith stresses that women should be accomplished

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in housework and undertake the responsibilities of one’s marriage. However, women should be given the highest education to enable them to undertake other occupations (Shukla 1934: 229).

Unlike Gandhi, for Nehru technological advancement and accessing opportunities in the social and economic fields was important (Nehru 1946: 533). However, religion and gender as a form of social organisation did not constitute a part of Nehru’s vision. ‘The discourse of modernity and modern nation in Nehru’s writings ignored other and competing discourses such as religion, caste and gender’ which were embedded in the traditions of Indian society (Rao 1999: 321). Nehru acknowledged the contributions of women within the household but he wanted women to participate in economic occupations as well as being good mothers and wives. He expressed displeasure at the fact that women’s education facilitated women in being proficient at domestic duties only, and neglected their mental and economic freedom. He stated: The truth is that women will not be independent when marriage is seen as an occupation and the source of women’s monetary protection. More than political independence, the independence of a woman is dependent on her economic situation. The relationship between man and woman should be based on full freedom and cooperation in which nobody is dependent on the other (Shukla 1934: 229).

However, Nehru’s approach was not widely shared, and Lakshmi Sehgal remarked on Nehru’s ‘unpractical’ approach: Jawahar was a mixed-up man, partly because of his westernised outlook. His Fabian socialism was airy-fairy. He was not in touch with ground reality.19

With respect to his personal life, Nehru wrote that the political participation of his wife and sisters gave him a special satisfaction and brought them closer together. He was impressed by his wife’s organisational skills: We felt proud of our people, and especially of our womenfolk, all over the country. I had a special feeling of satisfaction because of the activities of

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my mother, wife and sisters. We grew nearer to each other, bound by a new sense of comradeship in a great cause (Nehru 1962: 224).

Both Gandhi and Nehru realised, though to a limited extent, that women were compelled to re-adjust, both mentally and physically, to the demands of the changing political environment, best illustrated in the experiences of women in the Nehru household, a household in which three generations of women participated in national political life during the Independence struggle. Anand Bhawan, the Nehru home in Allahabad, became the central point for all nationalist activities, not only in Allahabad but for the whole of UP. In the early phase of the movement, the female family members such as Uma Nehru, Kamala Nehru, Krishna Nehru and Vijaylakshmi Pandit provided the context within which other Indian women could participate (Forbes 1998: 146). The womenfolk of male leaders were the first to step out onto the streets, thus setting a precedent for other women.

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Three main features facilitated elite women’s participation. First, they came from households that already had a tradition of political participation and had exposure to ‘public politics’.20 Second, they were encouraged and supported by their families to participate in the movement. Third, their lives were not circumscribed by social practices and members of their families did not frown upon their public participation. But men and women from elite households were also ridden with personal and political ambiguities on the issue of nationalist participation, but we do not hear of that anxiety because setting the precedent meant embodying notions of familial sacrifice in their own personal lives. Their adjustment to the demands of the political movement was at times contradictory to the domestic contexts of sanctity, stability and comfort. Women did not take to nationalist activities without conflict nor were born to be nationalist heroes. Vijaylakshmi Pandit in her memoirs describes the conflict and tension in her parental home when her brother, Jawaharlal Nehru, her father, Motilal Nehru and later she herself joined Gandhi. Her mother, Swarup Rani Nehru, found it

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difficult to adjust to the changed lifestyle and the constant infringement of their privacy: This was a time of great domestic strain, and constant adjustments were asked for. Mother felt acutely miserable over all that was happening. How could she take sides (with husband or son) or understand this new ‘Mahatma’ whose business, if anything, should have been to look after people’s morals instead of meddling in family matters (Pandit 1979: 69).

Swarup Rani found it hard to imagine sacrificing family interests for supporting the political tide, though eventually she came to terms with the activities of her son and husband in order to preserve domestic peace, and her encouragement to them can be seen as a significant dimension of her contribution towards the nationalist movement. So says the mother of Jawahar, Give up your life for the nation, my son, Then only will I be a proud mother. When one has taken the vow, Then give your life to the nation. Never worry about your happiness, Nor worry about your old mother. (PP. Hin.B. 146, 1931a)

Vijaylakshmi Pandit regretted leaving her daughters without adequate care: I had not allowed myself a moment to consider whether my decision to take a more active part in the struggle would be harmful to my children’s interests.… I have never quite forgiven myself for that jail term which broke my home when my children most needed its security and comfort (Pandit 1979: 109–10).

Swarup Rani and Vijaylakshmi Pandit shared the same household but perceived the changes in their private lives differently. This difference in perception can be attributed partly to the generational difference between the two women. Swarup Rani, who was from an earlier generation and whose ‘horizon did not extend beyond the family’ (ibid.: 39), found it difficult to fully comprehend the changing political reality and new ideas (Thapar 1993b: 13). However, for the younger generation of women like

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Vijaylakshmi Pandit, the consequences of political developments on their personal lives were brought to the forefront. In her personal memoirs, she refers to her loss of satisfaction ‘through domestic duty’ and accepts that without her husband’s consent she would not have participated (Pandit 1979: 69–70). For Swarup Rani it was the changing political reality, while for Vijaylakshmi Pandit it was the new domestic negotiations that were a challenge. The women of the Nehru family had taken the initiative and the task now for both male and female leaders was to mobilise the masses. They realised that creating, enlivening and projecting nationalist symbolism associated with the domestic sphere onto the public sphere would enable middle-class women to transcend the boundaries.

THE NATIONALIST SYMBOLS Different historical contexts shape symbolic roles in different ways and consequently their centrality differs (Anthias and Yuval-Davis 1989: 7).21 The nationalist projects in India as elsewhere (Serbia, Finland, South Africa) conceptualised women as symbolic signifiers of the nation, imagining the nation as the ‘motherland’ and women as the ‘mothers (bearers) of the nation’. The nations are frequently referred to through the ‘iconography of familial and domestic space’ (McClintock 1993: 62), or as Chhachhi argues, ‘nationalism defined its objects in the language of kinship or the home’ (1991: 165). The ‘motherland’ was projected as the woman’s body that was in danger of violation from ‘foreign’ males and her honour had to be protected through the sacrifice of ‘countless citizen warriors’ (Peterson 1998: 44). Through the symbolic construction as ‘bearers of the nation’, the nations are frequently referred to through the ‘iconography of familial and domestic space’. (McClintock 1993: 62). The ideology of motherhood was important in representing the swelling tide of Indian nationalism, and motherhood was used as a symbol of an Indian’s identity and constituted a ‘domain which the colonised could claim as their own’ (Bagchi 1990: 65; see also Chatterjee 1989). However, debates around symbolic role-models have revealed the uncomfortable tensions between feminism and nationalism, and the

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symbolism associated with ‘motherhood’ has been under scrutiny. It has been argued that though motherhood was a symbol bridging ‘the social, political and religious domain of colonial society’ it viewed this glorification of women only through their reproductive powers and was a ‘form of patriarchal control (and) … a ploy to keep women out of privileges like education and profession that were being wrested by their men’ (Bagchi 1990: 66). Child-bearing and nurturing became the only social justification of women’s lives, and not only put women under pressure to produce sons, but also denied these women any self-fulfilment (ibid.: 67–69). Since women had no control over their reproductive powers, ‘this amounted to a form of slavery, however magisterial it may have been made to look’ (ibid.: 70). In popularising the symbol of womanhood, a specific identity of women based on qualities such as self-sacrifice, affection and kindness was created. These debates are not unique to India alone. It has been argued that in the rejection of communism in the former Yugoslavia and a re-assertion of the nationalist ideology, the meaning of ‘patriotic womanhood’ shifted from a woman whose main task was to build socialism through work towards a woman who re-generated the nation through her role as mother. This change in perception was seen from the mid-1980s with the growth of Serbian nationalism within the Yugoslav socialist system, stimulated by the fear that Serbia could lose Kosovo to Albania.22 In this context, the ‘reproductive potential’ of women was emphasised and the responsibility of ‘Serbian national rebirth’ was placed on women (Bracewell 1996: 28). One of the aspects of national identity of the Serbian woman was her duty as a creator of ‘little Serbs’. She did not have to produce just children, but had ‘to bear fighters’ (ibid.: 29). Her sacrifice and heroism lay in her willingness to sacrifice her children for the nation. Bracewell argues that though women were at the centre of nationalist discourse, their individual interests were subordinated to the collective interests of the nation (ibid.: 31). Furthermore, in the context of India, it has been argued that gendered symbolism could displace women from constitutive processes of symbol construction within the nation since it allowed the ‘nation to represent itself as a woman’, for example as ‘Bharat Mata’, whereas women ‘could not represent themselves, their own identity or their Indian-ness’ (Rao 1999: 319). These debates are important in understanding the complexity of women’s engagement with nationalist movements, but they are also

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important in distinguishing between how women have been represented in national histories and symbolic repertoires on the one hand, and, on the other hand, how women have actually negotiated and challenged their roles and contributions to nationalism. Feminist critiques focus on the nationalist rhetoric that tends to present a gender bias, which is exacerbated by the invisibility of women’s activism from the public domain. We need to go beyond the nationalist rhetoric and analyse how women not only accepted their role as symbols but also participated in the process of actively propagating them and encouraged other women to do the same (Jolly 1994: 44). ‘Women actively participate in the process of reproducing and modifying their roles as well as being actively involved in controlling other women’ (Anthias and Yuval-Davis 1989: 6–11). In the Yugoslavian nationalist discourse women tried to use the symbolic representation of the ‘mother’ to also argue against the policies of the state ‘to protest against the war and for peaceful negotiations in a way in which men (even fathers) could not’ (Bracewell 1996: 30). The symbolic use of representations may not be used by women to reverse gender roles as suggested, but to empower those specific roles, to facilitate their political contribution and recognition of those roles (see also Passerini 1989). Motherhood was not necessarily associated with subordination but with achieving political consciousness and a recognition of their political contribution. The nationalist significance of symbolic representations facilitated the politicisation of the domestic sphere and the domestication of the public sphere. Representations of the mother as the ‘defender of civilisation’— which suggested the defence of the nation or motherland—were popularised through the vernacular literature, through the media and through the speeches and meetings of nationalist leaders. Sarojini Naidu made a statement in a newspaper to women involved in similar struggles in the rest of the world, expressing solidarity in terms of a common conceptualisation of the motherland: I am an Indian warrior, who is fighting for the freedom of my motherland. All of you are fighting for the protection of your own motherlands. In other words our cause is the same. Consequently, we belong to the same family (Vartman, 18 October 1931, p. 3).

Her statement was an expression of women’s global role as ‘guardians and saviours’ of their respective nations. The word ‘warrior’

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referred to the challenge for women of defending their nation and shouldering the same responsibilities as men. Often, pamphlets were distributed exhorting women students to join the struggle. In one such pamphlet a message from Sarojini Naidu stated: Till now we have been spectators, but now we have to do something. What your duties are you all know. You have to displace the throne of Britain. Do not think of yourselves as small girls. You are the powerful Durgas in disguise. You shall sing the nationalist songs wherever you go. You shall cut the chain of bondage. And free your country. Forget about the earth. You shall move the skies (PP.Hin.B. 215, 1930).

The inspirational and empowering poem exalts the significance of women for the nation as ‘saviours of the nation’. Statements such as ‘free your country’ capture the spirit of resistance and hope for an independent India. The ‘we’ used is significant for the unity expressed by women, and at the same time imparts a message for women to come together and contribute towards the nation. The nationalist woman as the embodiment of the nation was now the nurturer and bearer of future progeny and the defender of the motherland. Women entered the public sphere without completely disassociating themselves from the domestic ideology. Women’s participation was conceptualised in terms of the inter-relationship between the private and public domains, and they carried domestic values into the public sphere. Individual political convictions were expressed in terms of binding familial demands. The home represented the culture of the Indian nation and the woman was an integral part of that home. Her primary duty was to preserve the culture of her nation by upholding the tradition and values that constituted that culture. As Partha Chatterjee argues: ‘The home was the principal site for expressing the spiritual quality of the national culture, and women must take the main responsibility of protecting and nurturing this quality’ (Chatterjee 1989: 243). This symbolism was supported by religious metaphors, which were drawn largely from Hindu religion. It provided a vocabulary for the Congress-led nationalist movement and paved the way for the emergence of a specific religious-based nationalism in colonial India (Basu et al. 1993; Chowdhury-Sengupta 1992; Pandey 1990; Thapar 1990). The women supported the movement by adopting Hindu religious role-models of

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Sati, Kali and Durga (the latter two being manifestations of the mother goddess Shakti), and the duties associated with these models such as the ‘creator and nurturer of progeny’ (Sati) or ‘the defender of civilisation’ (Kali). In highlighting women’s roles as mothers, wives and nurturers, women were often exalted to the status of devis or goddesses.23 In the context of Bengal, Bagchi argues that this imagery helped to ‘Hinduise the tone of nationalism’ (Bagchi 1990: 66). The identity of middle-class women in the domestic sphere as ‘Hindu’ was taken for granted and women were expected to embody the identity of the community. She was a nationalist if she was a Hindu and vice-versa—the identities were often equated with each other. Participation in the Congress agitation also meant performing one’s religious duty and the interdependence and mutability of the two ideas ‘enabled nationalism to transcend the realm of politics and elevate itself to a religious domain’ (Sarkar 1984: 98). Women used the word mata (mother) when referring to the ‘soil’ of India. Narayani Dixit recited a poem written by her husband Kalka Prasad Tripathi when she was released from Kanpur jail in 1943.24 Welcome back, welcome back. You have showered like the rain on the dense clouds of the enemy. You have risen like the morning light on this dark empire Oh! Bharatmata, the nurturer of competent sons (source: transcript of interview with Narayani Dixit).

While darkness is associated with the British Empire, Bharatmata, built on the exalted status of women as sisters, wives and mothers, represents the hope and future of the nation. Women not only shoulder the responsibility of the ‘transfer of cultural and ideological traditions of ethnic and national groups’ they often, ‘constitute their actual symbolic configuration’ (Anthias and Yuval-Davis 1989). The ‘mother’ role model identified with the ‘motherland’ or ‘Bharatmata’ (mother India) aligned the duties and responsibilities of the mother with the duties of a woman towards her nation. The ‘glorification of motherhood, despite its Hindu roots (became) less a cultural defence mechanism, than the articulation of a future political programme’ (Engels 1989: 431). During meetings women were often told that ‘their mother India’ was in distress or that it was their duty to ‘release your mother who has been in bondage for centuries. Women who heard this would break down.25 Songs were strung together around

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the theme of ‘mother India’ and prayers offered to the motherland. For example: We are born in your house, We are born on your land, That is why we are blessed, The mountains, lakes and forests all are beautiful In this nation of ours. (source: transcript of interview with Mrs Gauri Devi Bajpai)

Land, as referred to in this poem, is symbolic of a mother’s body which is endowed with gifts from nature, such as the mountains, lakes and forests, and it is to the same land that a mother is expected to express her gratitude through the sacrifice of her body. Women would recite these prayers to the motherland during the prabhat pheris (morning processions) or end a meeting with a prayer. The nationalist leaders realised the significance of the concept of a unified motherland, a motherland stretching from the ‘Himalayas to the Indian Ocean’. The symbolic representation of the Bharatmata effectively controlled the feelings of resentment and disappointment felt by women towards the nationalist leaders for encouraging their menfolk to fight the British, or when their sons/fathers/brothers were hauled into gaols or thrown in kala pani (black water; imprisonment for life). The image of the one mother of the whole nation who was ‘pure’ and ‘untouched’, and whose honour had to be protected, aroused the national sentiments and emotions of the population as a whole (Figure 3.2). When women are accorded symbolic roles as ‘mothers of the nation’, the intersections of sexuality, purity and national honour politicise both the public and domestic-familial domains—the events in one domain reflect on the other. ‘Women’s shame is the family shame, national shame and man’s shame … the family, nationhood and manhood (are) all politicised and associated with national imagery’ (Nagel 1998: 249). Women as wives and mothers were the bearers of masculine honour (ibid.: 255). Paradoxically, while the Bharatmata was de-sexualised and ‘pure’, any assault on her was articulated through categories of shame and honour, two ideas closely associated with the sexuality of a woman. This idea was propagated through poetry, literature and the cinema. The image was invariably that of a beautiful woman in ‘shackles’ weeping ‘tears of blood’, or of the same

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Figure 3.2

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‘Shabash Beta’

The symbolic construction of Mother India-a single ‘pure’ mother representing the entire nation. The black paint is symbolic of the humiliation and stigmatised representation of the Indian nation. (Cartoon from the Hindustan Times)

woman holding aloft a trident and leading her countless sons and daughters into battle. Poets like Bal Krishna Sharma Navin (1898–1960), Harbans Rai Bachchan (1907–2003) and Mahadevi Verma (1907–87) disseminated the concept of Bharatmata. One poem by Bal Krishna Sharma, ‘The song of the morning breeze’, highlights the idea of a mother in distress: May the nectar like milk of the mother turn into bitter gall May the tears of her eyes dry up to leave a stream of blood behind Hey poet, string together the words that will be cataclysmic (Sharma 1989: 20)

The metaphors and symbolism shifted from the nationalist woman as the ‘mother and nurturer of the nation’, to the ‘defender of civilization and motherland’, and to the ‘sacrificial mother’. Mothers whose sons

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were executed by the British were venerated and exalted to the status of ‘mothers of the nation’. They were regarded as sacrificial mothers who had offered their sons to the nation.26 ‘No mother ever told her sons to ask for pardon from the Britishers.’27 Two incidents became a source of inspiration for the nationalist movement and were representative of the ‘sacrificial mother’, ‘mother India’ and ‘defender of civilisation’. Nearly half-a-century later, the surviving activists vividly remember the details. A male activist, Ram Krishna Khatri, stated that ‘the role of mothers whose sons were killed has never been recognised’. In this context he narrated two incidents, which recapitulated the decisive role of mothers in the nationalist movement. The first took place in 1897 in the Chapekar family. The Chapekars were Chiplunkar Brahmins from the city of Poona. The three brothers from the family, Damodar Hari, Bal Krishan Hari and Vasudev, were hanged for conspiring against and killing a British official, Mr Rand. Their mother, Laksmi Bai, whose name has not been documented in any historical record, projected a brave profile. A wave of sympathy arose for the mother throughout the country and she was referred to as the ‘sacrificial mother’ who sacrificed her sons for the nation. She was visited by Sister Nivedita, one of Vivekanand’s disciples and a participant in reform activities in Bengal, who was greatly impressed by Lakshmi Bai’s moral strength (Kumar 1993: 41). The second incident relates to an activist named Ram Prasad Bismil, a member of the Hindustan Socialist Republican Association who was hanged in Gorakhpur jail on 18 December 1927. This episode was narrated by Shiv Verma, who shared similar political leanings as Bismil. The night before Bismil was hanged, his mother visited him. Bismil had tears in his eyes when he saw his mother. His mother asked him: ‘Ho gaya inquilab? Ho gaya kranti? Kyo kayaro ki tarah aasu baha rahe ho?’ (‘Is this revolution? Is this revolt? Why are you shedding tears like a coward?’) Bismil replied: Tumhara beta kayar nahi hai. Assu to is liye hai ke tumari jaisi ma na tumari jaisi god milagi (Your son is not a coward. He has tears because he knows that he will neither get a mother like you nor a mother’s lap like yours).

Bismil’s mother had never actively participated in formal politics, but her consciousness was kindled by her son’s death. In a speech addressed

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to the nation, she said: ‘I have one more son to give to the nation (she raised the hand of Bismil’s brother). I want nothing in return for my son’s blood’.28 I use this example to show how the ordinary middle class viewed mothers who sacrificed their sons in the political struggle. It also shows how some mothers understood their roles in relation to the nation. With reference to the projection of women in the political struggle, Shiv Verma said: ‘Women were not recognised through their family names. They were referred to as Ma, which means mother’.29 Women’s engagement with symbolism displaced (if not completely removed) the constructed hierarchical difference between men and women, but also challenged the colonial discourse, which specifically hinged on the ‘feminised’ subordination of the whole nation, femininity associated with retrogressive rather than progressive qualities. Gender difference can come to stand for other forms of hierarchically organized difference, as for example in context where people who are deemed inferior for whatever reason are represented as feminised, controlled and subordinate (Moore 1994: 145).

Nationalist symbolism also enabled these women to step out of the domestic sphere and participate in the Gandhian non-violent movement. The Nehru household had set the precedent for the ordinary middle-class women.

WOMEN

AND

NON-VIOLENCE: FAMILY DYNAMICS GANDHIAN IDEOLOGY

AND

The nationalist movement set a precedent for achieving independence through non-violence, and thus a whole new philosophy based on ahimsa or non-violence was born. Male and female leaders of the Congress Party, the dominant nationalist party in UP, adhered strongly to a non-violent ideology. The image of an ideal activist constructed by the leaders of the movement was of a woman who in her political activities symbolised the virtues of non-violence. The Gandhian ideology portrayed the struggle against the British as a moral battle, in which the moral and spiritual strength of Indian women was supreme. Gandhi

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constructed a moral stance which cut across class, communitarian and rural-urban differences to create an anti-imperialist front (Kumar 1983: 43). Metaphorically, the streets were viewed by men and women as moral battlefields, and consequently they were seen as an acceptable location for women’s activities. This ideology assisted women in stepping over the thresholds of their homes for the first time. Women’s public participation also helped to dispel British stereotypes of their downtrodden and degenerate status (Liddle and Joshi 1986: 24, 32). Therefore, when women stepped out onto the streets, they brought the values of the domestic sphere with them. They were expected to adapt to changes in the public domain without compromising their feminine qualities within the domestic sphere. Their involvement in the public sphere stretched from the non-cooperation movement of the 1920s to the civil disobedience movement of the 1930s and to the Quit India movement of the 1940s. In the 1920s women’s public participation was limited, but during the next two decades the constraints diminished. The primary reason was that a precedent had already been set by the women, primarily from elite households, who had participated in politics earlier in the century. In the latter half of the 20th century, women were more politically aware and their households found it easier to accept them going outside their homes, since many had already done so. For example, the same women who were not allowed to participate in the 1930s were not stopped from stepping outside during the Quit India movement. Some activists said that their fathers had prevented their mothers from participating in the civil disobedience movement, but did permit participation during the Quit India struggle. The 1940s witnessed an increase not only in the number of women activists, but also violent activities by women as compared to the 1930s. Political continuity cannot be discerned in individual women’s participation in the nationalist movement. Political activities could be sporadic, with women involving themselves in nationalist activity for a day and then not taking part any further. On the other hand, there were women who participated throughout the nationalist phase, until India’s independence in 1947. Whatever the nature of their public participation, it was framed through the two essential issues of segregation and respectability.

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Segregation of Women In the broader social context, purdah defined the lives of most women from the middle classes. They led segregated lives even within their homes, and most women did not appear before or have any social contact with any of the men in the family except their husband. Within their homes most Hindu women kept their heads covered. Godavari Devi describes an environment in which purdah was rigorously enforced: My devar (husband’s younger brother) very rarely talked to the womenfolk of the family. He was a strict traditionalist and enforced purdah. The women of the house could not even stand openly on the balcony. We did not dare to listen to any political discussions of the men but could discuss amongst ourselves (Transcript of interview with Godavari Devi).

Some women were secluded and confined to a room after marriage. They were not allowed to show any part of their body or appear in front of other members of the joint household (transcripts of interviews with Ganga Devi and Kaushalya Devi). The primary constraint for women was to come out onto the streets without challenging the prevalent domestic customs and traditions. Segregation was carried over from the domestic sphere into the public domain. Women participants did not see the public sphere as a space for completely flouting customs and traditions, but as a space where the rigid rules of society and religion could be re-negotiated, so as to enable women to step outside their homes. For example, some Hindu women kept their heads covered with their saris, some kept half their faces covered with their saris in processions and those who came from extremely orthodox households wore a chadar (a thick sheet) over their saris. Minute alterations in demeanour had to be carefully negotiated (transcript of interview with Sridevi Tewari). Muslim women in the public sphere maintained the segregation they experienced in the domestic sphere and wore the burqa (a garment that covers every part of the body). At certain times, the practice of wearing the burqa was an advantage. For instance, describing her participation in the 1942 movement,30 Tara Devi Agarwal explained: I used to distribute seditious literature or distribute weapons while wearing the burqa. Sometimes I used to secretly carry letters and other items from

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and to the jails for friends and relatives (Transcript of interview with Tara Agarwal).

Tara Devi was a Hindu lady from Kanpur who did not practice purdah. She was encouraged by her husband and her mother-in-law to participate in the movement (Saxena 1988: 8). She adopted the Muslim dress of segregation, which helped her to both conceal her identity and transport letters and other items from one place to another. A confining and limiting social practice such as purdah was turned around to become an enabling one. Women leaders in their meetings suggested that women should discard the purdah, but that was to do more with the symbolic implication of women leaving their isolated and segregated lives at home and stepping out onto the streets. A degree of sex segregation was maintained in public, and this can be discerned in the nationalist activities that were specifically allocated to women in the public sphere by the nationalist leaders. Also in ‘ladies meetings’, women sat separately from the men. It was easier for Hindu women to maintain segregation than it was for Muslim women.31 This was reflected in the different levels of participation of Hindu and Muslim women in the nationalist movement (Brown 1977: 104, 140). The participation of Muslims in general was lower than their earlier involvement in the Khilafat non-cooperation phases of the movement during 1919–21. The decline in Muslim participation in the civil disobedience movement can be explained through activities prior to the civil disobedience movement that created an environment of suspicion and communal consciousness. The launch of Swami Shraddhanand’s shuddhi (purification) programme in western UP was significant in creating this environment. The shuddhi and sangathan organisations of the Hindus were ‘matched’ by organisations of Muslims such as tabligh (propagation) and tanzim (organisation). The organisation of Hindus and Muslims along communal lines was marked by a series of riots between 1923–27 (Pandey 1978: 115–16). Prominent Congress nationalist leaders such as Madan Mohan Malaviya figured prominently in the Hindu Mahasabha’s shuddhi programme. These activities were coupled with instructions which were directed at Hindu women in tracts such as Stri Siksha, brought out by the UP Arya Pratinidhi Sabha in Bareilly. Hindu women were

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instructed not to engage in any social or economic activities with Muslim women (Gupta 2000). A few Hindu respondents mentioned the gradual build up of tensions (through rumours and household tales) between the communities and the atrocities suggested to be committed by Muslim men on Hindus,32 and this escalated when Bhagat Singh’s application for mercy was turned down by the Viceroy (Pandey 1990: 24). Initially we never felt hatred for the Muslims but slowly we developed antagonism towards them. When Bhagat Singh was hanged on 23 March 1931, a procession was taken out by the Hindus and the tensions between the communities escalated.33 There were riots and we were locked up in a building by our men for safety. In the field next to the building, there was a plot where they used to kill Hindu children. They used to press the child with one foot and tear him with their hands. There was so much smell that Hindu women used to throw mitti ka tel (petrol) to quench the smell.34

It was in these riots that the Congress leader from Kanpur, Ganesh Shankar Vidyarthi, was killed while trying to rescue both Hindus and Muslims in the riots. Hindu women respondents did not mention taking any active part in these communal situations and most of them did not comment on their feelings towards Muslims or their communal identities in any way. Their silence could either be interpreted as their acceptance of a communal identity that was not ‘freely chosen’, or it could be that they did not want to disclose their feelings. The vectors of women’s ‘multiple identities’ are different in different socio-political situations (also see Butalia 1993). Among the women I interviewed who had participated in demonstrations and other such activities against the British, anticolonial feelings, rather than religious differences shaped their identity. There were also a few women respondents who saw the British presence as having helped in maintaining stability. A respondent stated: Though we did not have any hard feelings towards Muslims, nonetheless the relationship was maintained on a delicate balance. The British were good administrators because they put behind bars my Muslim neighbour, who we suspected had poisoned our dog.35

The same respondent also mentioned that both the Hindus and Muslims did not eat each others’ food and that no Muslim women entered

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their house, though the Hindu women visited Muslim neighbours. However, whenever there was a political meeting in a Muslim woman’s house, ‘the host had a Hindu halwai (cook) make sweets and hand them to Hindu women’.36 Studies have revealed that ordinary interrelationships between different communities within a society can harbour feelings of fear and hatred for specific communities which festers under a state of normalcy or normality or ‘the volatile complexity of everyday culture in which the banality of evil is domesticated’ (Bharucha 2000: 70).37 The smallest codes of behaviour observed between Hindus and Muslims could precipitate at an unconscious level the most irrational forms of communal hatred (Bharucha 2000: 71). When Muslims would come to visiting a Hindu they had to eat from different utensils and then clean it themselves. The way national identity was framed left the Hindu woman’s emerging national identity ‘not always a freely chosen option’, though it cannot be said to be ‘false’ either (Hasan 1989b: 44). Though most of my Hindu respondents adopted the identity of their community, they did not play as self-conscious or active a role in promoting Hindu communal identity as women during the post-Partition period and the more recent 1984 Delhi riots (for details see Majumdar 1995: 1–28).38 Religion constituted only a part of their personal identity. It is also the case that in a tense political situation, when individuals are identified as Muslim or Hindu, irrespective of their religious convictions or political ideas, the communal identity seems to be forced upon them (Hasan 1989b: 44). A strong deterrent to Muslim women’s participation (in both the middle- and working-classes) was also the attitude of their menfolk, who were suspicious of any ‘outsiders’. Muslim men were also afraid that by speaking and interacting with ‘liberated’ Hindu women, their own women might start challenging domestic norms. Though the participation of Muslim women was limited in the public domain, they attended meetings in burqas and would often go back home immediately. If a woman leader such as Aruna Asaf Ali (maiden name Ganguli), came to their district to address a gathering, then the number of Muslim women attending would increase.39 Some elite Muslim women took a more active lead in organising other Muslim women on issues of social reforms and nationalist work. Sultana Hayat from Lucknow engaged actively with Gandhian politics and in independent

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India, became in Uttar Pradesh the president of Anjuman Tarakki Urdu, an organisation whose chief aim was to propagate Urdu.40 A Muslim respondent from the middle class mentioned that the role of working-class Muslim women in the nationalist movement was also negligible, although these women would take part in processions for wage increases and the shunning of discriminatory practices in factories. Working-class Muslim women did not initiate processions for nationalist demands, although they realised that India had lost its political power to the British.41 A form of segregation, which was a distinct advantage for women students, was their residency in women’s student hostels. These hostels were completely segregated from the men’s hostels, and interaction between the sexes was restricted. This segregation was often exploited to perform clandestine activities like editing, printing and publishing proscribed literature. Professor M.P. Singh, who had been a student at Benares Hindu University (BHU) at that time, mentioned the clandestine political activities which took place in both the male and female hostels. During the Quit India movement he formed the Azad Government, a secret organisation of the BHU. With reference to the publishing activities, he stated: In 1942 the bulletin Ran Bheri (Bugle of War) was taken over by women ‘comrades in arms’. All the women involved were BSc or MSc students residing in the BHU hostel. They used to print, edit and cyclostyle Ran Bheri. The bulletin came out daily from the women’s hostel. In this job, I think the women were more capable than the men. Once the Mughalsarai Battalion had come to arrest us. One of the trucks went to the women’s hostel and one to the men’s. Unfortunately, the Ran Bheri had already been published. At the women’s hostel the battalion was stopped by a lady superintendent who said, “The women are not dressed, when they are, you can come in”. Within the boundaries of the women’s hostel was the Govind nala (canal), and in the meantime all the machines and issues of the bulletin were thrown into the nala.42

In contrast, the Aligarh Muslim University remained unaffected by the growing tide of nationalism and the administration was congratulated for maintaining discipline and control over their students.43 In the 1940s this University was a ‘nerve centre’ of Muslim separatism in the United Provinces (Hasan 1989a: 20).

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Respectability Linked to segregation was the issue of respectability. The male and female nationalist leaders projected the politics of street demonstrations in terms of its high morality and sacrifice.44 Only the right kind of respectable woman was positively encouraged to participate (Forbes 1988: 69). Women of the middle class who came out in public also realised that their newly-realised freedom had to be couched in an aura of respectability.45 A woman, as argued earlier, grew up in the protected environment of her father’s house and later married into the protected environment of her husband’s house. This issue of respectability touched every middle-class family. Women ‘on the streets’ had to be distinguished from women ‘of the streets’, the latter primarily being women who had to come out of their homes to earn a living (see Thapar 1993a). One of the consequences of this was that women who entered and were seen in those spaces defined as public were open to suspicion (Walkowitz 1980). The women ‘of the street’, a label that distinguished these women from respectable middle-class women, were working-class women, low-caste women and other ‘inferior’ characters. The latter were still seen as a threat to the morality and respectability of the movement. Prostitutes were located in the latter category. During the civil disobedience movement, prostitutes from Kanpur in UP were stopped from joining the movement and were ‘said to be unfit to sit near other ladies by members of the District Congress Committee’ (The Leader, 14 May 1930, p. 6). Gandhi himself refused to accept the prostitutes as Congress members unless they gave up their ‘unworthy profession’. Similarly in Barisal in East Bengal, ‘fallen sisters’ who wanted to participate in Congress activities were advised by Gandhi to choose alternative professions to facilitate their participation (Forbes 1988: 69). In Indian nationalist history (as well as European nationalism), the management of female sexuality has been important since ‘unruly’ female sexuality could discredit the nation. ‘Nationalism, gender and sexuality … can frequently play an important role in constructing one another, by invoking and helping to construct the “us vs them”’ (Mayer 2000: 1). The management of female sexuality becomes important since ‘unruly’ female sexuality could discredit the nation.

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Thus individuals who reflect sexual promiscuity may be regarded by ‘respectable people as ineffective for any work on behalf of the nation’ (Mosse 1985: 109). Uncontrolled sexuality as embodied by the prostitute was a sensitive issue with the Indian nationalists. Paradoxically, it was the ‘untamed’ and ‘uncontrolled’ sexuality of Bengali men that was debated by British colonial administrators in the 19th century. The prostitute as an oppositional representation to the nationalist woman also challenged the untouched, pure, uncolonised ‘domestic space’ of which the nationalist woman was a representative. This represented the core of the Indian ethos (see Chatterjee 1989). Untouchables were placed in the same social category as prostitutes. There is a description of Gandhi encouraging untouchables to attend his meetings, but ambiguities in Gandhi’s behaviour and attitudes towards untouchables and prostitutes are not explained: ‘There was some overt hostility to Gandhi’s insistence on introducing untouchables to his meetings … and at Gajera on 21 March many women left rather than attend in untouchable company’ (Home Pol., 1930, File No. 247/11). The uneasy relationship which women from privileged backgrounds shared with other women who were either prostitutes or from the untouchable caste was apparent. The necessity of drawing distinctions between the ‘nationalist woman’ and other social groups such as prostitutes and untouchables became an integral feature of defining national character and setting cultural boundaries. ‘Nationalist ideology, that is beliefs about the nation—who we are, what we represent—becomes the basis and justification for national actions, that is to say, activities of state and nation building, the fight for independence … the exclusion or inclusion of various categories of members’ (Nagel 1998: 248). However, the unrespectable and impure could become ‘pure’ and ‘respectable’ if their work was regarded as a nationalist sacrifice. Several respondents recounted the specific narrative of Azizan, a randi (prostitute) who was exalted to the status of a warrior through her contribution to the nationalist movement, and who provided inspiration to many women (transcript of interview with Sridevi Tewari). Azizan was a prostitute in Bithoor, Kanpur during the years leading up to the 1857 revolt. She used to dance with a kamal (lotus) and a roti (unleavened

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bread) in the army camps. If a soldier accepted the roti then he was willing to participate in the struggle for freedom, and if he accepted the kamal, he was not. Often Azizan used to go on horseback and feed the wounded soldiers. Azizan, through her sacrifices, acquired purity in the eyes of the people and was exalted to the status of a goddess. She cleansed herself of all past sins in the sacrificial fire of freedom, and instead of being referred to as Azizan randi she was addressed as krantikari Azizan, or the ‘warrior Azizan’.46 The issue of respectability was important for two reasons. First, since women’s activities were projected to be for the liberation of the nation, this meant that they were viewed by the Indian populace as patriotic and respectable. This idea facilitated women’s entry into the public sphere without creating disharmony in their domestic lives. Women could step forward into the public sphere without endangering their honour and pride. Second, both male and female nationalist leaders provided assurances to the guardians of ordinary middle-class women, and projected themselves as the embodiment of respectability. If women stepped out of their homes to attend any public activity hosted by prominent women leaders, it was unlikely that their movements would be scrutinised and questioned. Nearly all the respondents referred to these leaders, and it seems that their presence not only gave credibility to a particular activity but also facilitated the respondents’ public appearances. For example, one respondent stated: I often used to go to attend the meetings of Vijaylakshmi Pandit in Zhandewala Bagh in Lucknow. She used to come and talk to my mother about the number of women required to organise a procession. Also, Swarajwati Nehru came to our house and ate food (source: transcript of interview with Ganga Devi).

Eating food with prominent, highly respectable and committed leaders imparted an aura of respectability to ordinary middle-class women and they gained respectability through the recognition from other locality dwellers of their connections with elite women leaders. These women leaders, through their speeches and meetings, established contact with a few women at the local level in order to mobilise other women from their localities and mohallas. Some such as Kamala Nehru visited women in their homes and raised nationalist issues with their men. The charismatic

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presence of women leaders both personalised and legitimised activities like hoisting the national flag or breaking the salt law. Kamala Nehru, Vijaylakshmi Pandit, Krishna Nehru, Aruna Asaf Ali and Uma Nehru were present for most of the activities. The charisma of these nationalist leaders pulled crowds of women. Enthusiasm and curiosity encouraged women to go to political gatherings even though at times they could not identify with specific political ideas or nationalist sentiment: I did not have much understanding of the movement; I was doing it more out of josh (eagerness). I knew that Gandhiji wanted independence and I had complete faith in him.47

The issue of respectability within women’s organisations and the Congress, while presenting women as an acceptable and thus effective group for articulating political demands, also reinforced divisions between women. Forbes comments that: They only admitted women classified as ‘respectable’, thereby undermining the claim that they spoke for all women. To see this as a male or Congress plot to ‘control’ women is naive, the women leaders were themselves concerned with image (Forbes 1988: 89).

Like segregation, respectability, it can be argued, was re-constructed, reinvented and re-negotiated at specific historic junctures to meet the specific political needs of the nationalist project. What was done on behalf of the nation was now seen as respectable. What was constructed as respectable had to support nationalist needs and not contradict these. For example, Gandhi held the belief that married life and associated domestic and sexual concerns were a hindrance to social service. ‘Such an ethos of sexual puritanism (linked with national service) made it much more acceptable for young women from respectable families to leave home and join his ashrams and campaigns’ (Caplan 1989: 284). The ‘women of the streets’ negotiated ‘respectability’ and ‘purity’ for themselves by aligning their services and needs with that of the national movement. We see respectability being constructed with prisons/jails being identified as holy places, and it was implied in all nationalist messages that women courting arrest and serving imprisonment were performing their religious and national duties.48

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VIOLATION

OF THE

SALT LAW

The most important and well-documented public activity that women were involved in was the breaking of the salt law, also referred to as the salt satyagraha. Satyagraha means ‘truth force’, and was based on ahimsa or non-violence. Women were projected as being capable of taking on as much as men, in part because the feature of non-violence assisted women’s equal participation: Because the struggle was non-violent, women could participate equally. They amply possessed the qualities required for a non-violent struggle: tolerance, courage and capacity for suffering (Rao 1994: 41).

An article in the magazine Kamala titled ‘Women and Satyagraha’ addressed the specific nature of nationalist contribution. The author raised several questions: What role will the women take? Will they be lying in one corner of her house in the darkness of ignorance and loneliness, especially at a time when the wheel of revolution is turning for the last time? Are they right in thinking that the battlefield is the man’s domain and the woman’s domain is the home?’ (Kripalani 1940: 295–97).

The article expects women in the vartman yudh (present struggle) to educate themselves about political developments and to eliminate ignorance (agyanta) and loneliness (audasenaya) from their lives. Instead women should be more involved with the developments around them and also mobilise other women to do the same. The author compares the demands on women in current times with women’s role in society in ancient times (prachinyug) and the middle ages (madyayug), when they were assigned (by society) tasks that complimented their nature (swabhavik karya). For example, women’s main tasks of reproducing and nurturing were of assistance to the nation. Through the protection of the domestic sphere, women enhanced the strength and stability of the army (ibid.). Women were not expected to be involved in destructive (sanghar) warfare tasks which were associated only with the kshatriya (warrior) caste, that is, the caste responsible for the protection of the nation. The

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women from the lower castes never took part in any destruction, but it was expected that they would render some contribution to the war. For example, women used to deprive themselves of essentials and sometimes contributed their jewels to finance the movement. It was only the women of the kshatriya caste who bore the strain of the war when members of their family went to fight. In contemporary (vartman) times, women who were confined primarily to the domestic sphere could not remain ignorant, and could not isolate themselves politically from the new changes and new demands on them because: The life of every individual is in danger and thus everybody will have to take part. Women cannot escape by virtue of their caste (by not being kshatriyas). Women are involved both in production and supply of weapons. She is a manufacturer of both the weapons and the fodder for it, that is, children. However, the alternative of satyagraha is available to women (ibid.: 296).

All individuals, irrespective of the roles assigned to them earlier, must contribute to national life. Women have the choice to participate in warfare, which is an atyachar (on her) swabhav (attack on her nature) or be a satyagrahi, which will allow her to effectively demonstrate her swabhavik that is her natural, qualities of patience, kindness and sacrifice. The phrase ‘wheel of revolution’ is a symbolic expression for the nationalist symbol, the charkha, and also suggests that it is the last opportunity for women both to contribute to the movement and to further the women’s cause. The salt satyagraha incorporated some specific issues. First, there was a moral emphasis on including a special stress on the suffering of a helpless population and the suggestion that the resistance to the tax on salt must touch everyone, and certainly the starving millions. Second, it had a maximum appeal for the masses because salt was a commodity consumed daily by them. Salt was an issue directly related to women’s lives. It was a commodity which women from all classes bought, a homely domestic object symbolising everyday ordinary needs. Salt as a commodity drew ‘on the grammar of everyday life’, providing a ‘shared cultural context’ and constituting a shared (national) identity (Banerjee 2003: 1).

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Gandhi’s incorporation of domestic imagery in his political discourse enabled women to come out into the public sphere. It was precisely because of this that the act of breaking the salt law appealed to their imagination (Kishwar 1985: 1692; CWMG Vol. XLII: 500–01). The initial act of salt-making in the homes was a visible sign of the ‘revolt (having) entered every home, nestled down in the very hearth’ (Chattopadhyay 1983: 107). This campaign commenced on 12 March 1930 with a march from Sabarmati to Dandi, a village on the Gujarat coast. Here Gandhi and his followers made salt in violation of the salt laws. Initially, Gandhi did not want women to accompany him on the march. I am not interested in inviting them (women) to offer civil disobedience against the salt law. Even if women participate in this, they will be lost amongst the men. For I expect that at every place large numbers of men will come forward. I do not believe that women will come forward in such numbers.49

Gandhi’s suggestion that women might be lost in the crowds of male volunteers was connected with his strong conviction that women had a more important role in picketing liquor and cloth shops than in breaking salt laws (Kumar 1993: 74). Gandhi was interested in including women only in very specific activities. Also, he did not want to be accused by the British government of hiding behind the protection of women. Gandhi remarked: Just as Hindus do not harm a cow, the British do not attack women as far as possible. For Hindus it would be cowardice to take a cow to the battle field. In the same way it would be cowardice of us to have women accompany us (CWMG Vol. XLIII: 12).

However, women pushed themselves into the salt satyagraha. Women like Khurshedbehn (grand-daughter of Dadabhai Naoroji) and Mridula Sarabhai demanded that: No conference or commission dealing with the welfare of India should be held without the presence of women. Similarly, they must ask that no marches, no imprisonment, no demonstrations organised for the welfare of India should prohibit women from a share in them (Stree Dharma, Vol. 13 1930: 247).

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Margaret Cousins on behalf of the Women’s Indian Association argued that not allowing women to participate was indicative of division of work by sex and was not an adequate explanation (Dutta 1957: 93; Moraes 1958: 92). Following these protests women were allowed to participate. While domestication of the public space and feminising of public politics facilitated women’s emergence, many women pushed further the boundaries that were constructed. Referring to the part played by women in the historic Dandi march, Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay, herself a strong activist, said: Women who had never looked upon a crowded street, never beheld a strange face, stripped aside those silken curtains, threw off their gossamer veils and flung themselves into the blinding glare of day…. They faced perils and privations with a happy light in their eyes and a spring in their limbs. Almost overnight their narrow domestic walls had given way to open up a new wide world in which they had a high place (Sridevi 1969: 76–77). They strode down to the sea like proud warriors. But instead of weapons, they bore pitchers of clay, brass and copper and, instead of uniforms, the simple cotton saris of village India. One watched them fascinated and awe-struck (Baig 1958: 19).

These quotations reflect the constrained and circumscribed domestic existence of Hindu urban middle-class women, but they did not hesitate to transcend the sheltered and confined lives they had led. The steady domestication of the public sphere was reflected through activities such as carrying domestic objects like clay pots in public processions and wearing simple homespun swadeshi saris.

WOMEN

TAKE THE

LEAD

The male leaders could foresee that they would require the help of women associates in continuing nationalist work once the men were arrested. Before their arrests, Gandhi and Abbas Tyabji appointed Sarojini Naidu to lead the raid on the Dharasana salt works, 240 km north of Bombay. Before taking charge of the raiding party Naidu declared in a public speech that: The time has come in my opinion when women can no longer seek immunity behind the shelter of their sex but must share equally with

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their men comrades all the perils and sacrifices for the liberation of the country (Times of India, 8 May 1930).

The raid took place on 15 May 1930. In a letter from Camp Untadi (Bulsar) to her daughter Padmaja Naidu, Sarojini Naidu said: After prayers, songs, flag salutations and a benediction from Ba, I led my army across a mile of muddy lanes to the vicinity of the salt depot…. Lorry loads of armed police arrived.50

The journey started at a place called Arari at 6 a.m., and along with fifty swayamsevaks they were cordoned by police at Dharsana. ‘Many women came to give food to the volunteers but the police stopped the food from being consumed. It was only the next morning at 2 a.m. that they were allowed to eat.51 By the middle of April 1930, twenty-seven out of forty-eight district government officials were given special powers to search under the Salt Act in Uttar Pradesh (Low 1997: 93). Salt was prepared both in public places and in homes. Women often carried the earth from which salt was made from the nearest area of seacoast to their homes.52 In Allahabad the whole Nehru family had plunged into the satyagraha movement. The salt law was broken at Handia, a tehsil (revenue division of a district) headquarters about 32 kilometres east of Allahabad. It was arranged that the earth from which salt was to be produced would be brought from somewhere in the district and manufactured in the neighbourhood of Hewett Road.53 Over 10,000 people gathered to witness the satyagraha campaign. Among the lady volunteers was Kamala Nehru (she also manufactured salt at the Katra crossing in Allahabad). As she prepared salt, the police watched the proceedings without interfering (The Leader, 21 April 1930, p. 10). Krishna Nehru, Swaroop Rani Nehru and Pandit Narsingh Dayal also participated. Kamala Nehru picked up the fuel, put it into the furnace especially prepared for this purpose and lit a fire (The Leader, 12 April 1930, p. 10). Homely salt suddenly became a mysterious word: a word of power (Kalhan 1973: 61). Uma Nehru led a march to the manufacturing ground and a small meeting was held. Swarup Rani, who was presiding over it, said ‘if you are true to your motherland then you should start manufacturing salt in every household’ (The Leader, 20 April 1930, p. 10). After appealing to

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women to enlist as volunteers, since without their cooperation the attainment of swaraj (self rule) would be impossible, Uma Nehru (who had led the procession) auctioned a packet of the newly-made salt. The elderly Swarup Rani had a special impact on the masses. Krishna Nehru, describing the impression created by her mother, said: That was one of the most extraordinary things. A tiny fragile Hindu lady, born to the luxury and seclusion of strict orthodoxy, suddenly became a revolutionary orator. Her fiery speeches swayed and roused the crowds to a high peak of emotion.54

A respondent recalled the arrival of some female members of the Nehru household in Kanpur, where Vijaylakshmi Pandit and Krishna Nehru prepared salt from sea-water brought from the coast: In Shradhanand Park sea water was boiled after the meeting. We then sang the song Jhanda ucha rahe hamara,Vijayi visva tiranga hamara (May our flag always fly high, In a free country, this three coloured flag).55

Nearly all the districts in the United Provinces participated in these activities. The British district authorities responded to the salt-making activities by circulating a notice that zamindars that allowed salt to be made on their zamindaris would be fined for breaking the salt law. The authorities ironically reported that ‘little enthusiasm for salt making has been created among the peasantry’. It is not surprising! The reaction of the British authorities towards male and female activists was different. No hesitation was shown in arresting male volunteers, though women’s activities were watched with some trepidation. This partly explains why women were encouraged to lead the processions. In one instance in Faizabad in UP, men who were manufacturing salt were immediately arrested while only a strict eye was kept on the women performing a similar task (Aaj, 9 April 1930, p. 1).

THE BOYCOTT

OF

FOREIGN CLOTH

Just as foreign cloth had long been important as a symbol of all foreign domination, so the maintenance of the foreign cloth boycott became a

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Table 3.2 Aligarh Ballia Bijnor Etawah Fatehpur Ghazipur Gorahkpur Mainpuri Pratapgarh Rae Barelli

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Details of Actual Salt Making Daily at Koil At village Reoti on 20–21 April On 30 April Daily at headquarters and in police circle Barhpura At Bindki on 20 April At Zamania Bhangra Bazaar Shikohabad Village Kohla Sareni and Mohanganj, Mustafabad circles

Source: Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces Vol. XLVIII, Nainital, 3 May 1930, No. 17, Criminal Investigation Department.

symbol of all resistance. Gandhi realised that for mass mobilisation the nationalist symbols had to relate to the private lives of people and must touch their daily existence. Cloth was an essential household item and, like salt, khadi could be spun on the charkha (spinning wheel) within the domestic sphere, but its nationalist significance transcended the boundaries of the domestic sphere into the public sphere. In the public sphere, men and women wore it as a mark of national pride and a symbol of the nationalist movement. A woman dressed in coarse hand spun clothes and projecting a plain, unadorned image was seen as more ‘charismatic’, ‘respectable’ and ‘patriotic’ than a woman dressed ornately in fine silks. The symbolic and nationalist significance of domestic items like salt and cloth were re-emphasised when shops were picketed in the public sphere. The mass mobilisation of women under Gandhi’s charismatic leadership can best be understood in terms of his ability to translate ordinary domestic items like salt and cloth into effective political symbols: In this struggle for freedom, the contribution of women will exceed that of men. Swaraj is tied to a strand of yarn. Hence, whether we wish to boycott foreign cloth through the means of khadi or through mill-made cloth, it is women who are the spinners. Therefore it is women who will play a larger part in the non-violent struggle for swaraj (CWMG Vol. XLIII: 154).

With reference to the importance of women to the boycott in Bombay city, Gail Pearson argues that ‘at many stages they (women) were the

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only ones picketing in the cloth market. They were far more effective than male volunteers, for what cloth merchant would keep his shop open if he felt that he would be responsible for the arrest and outraged modesty of Indian womanhood?’ (Pearson 1981: 177). Gandhi outlined a clear and specific political programme based on women’s special virtues of patience and forbearance in their dealings with the resisting shopkeepers. Inherent in this was the idea that although men could participate in picketing, they would be less effective because violence was more likely to result. Gandhi suggested that successful picketing of the stores would dramatise the effective and important role of women. Addressing a women’s conference in Dandi, Gandhi said: Women are more fitted for the delicate non-violent picketing of liquor and foreign cloth shops than men. If the women of Gujarat successfully organised the two boycotts of foreign cloth and liquor they would spread throughout the length and breath of the country (The Leader, 16 April 1930, p. 11; see also CWMG Vol. XLV: 309–10).

For Gandhi, picketing was more a matter of moral persuasion and conversion than coercion. His arguments provided women with a sense of moral and political power that inspired and prompted them to adopt a method of action which did not exclude their efforts and abilities, but allowed for their development within a distinct political programme (Prabhu 1959). The charkha and khadi were powerful symbolic domestic items which could be used by middle-class women with little or no formal education. For example, Sridevi Tewari, with little formal education herself, mentioned spinning on the charkha because she liked to wear clothes she had spun herself, and she also had strong faith in the Gandhian ideology. To this day, she spins her charkha. Sridevi Tewari said that: Middle-class women spun the charkha only because Gandhi had said so, not because they wanted to earn money. Gandhi said that our nation is dependent on agriculture, and if we bring in machines people would become useless. Gandhi realised that if a woman from a less privileged background could sell her spun cloth, she could bring home a few extra pennies as well as gaining some economic independence.56

Three ideas were interwoven though not shared by all middle-class women: the charkha as a symbol of nationalism, as a symbol of economic

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efficiency and as a symbol of respectability. However, for some women, the charkha was just another ordinary household item like other domestic objects. For them the charkha had no political significance and no political symbolism associated with it. In Cawnpore city, known for its cotton textiles, the picketing of shops selling foreign cloth and the task of organising the volunteers were initiated by Kamala Nehru and Mrs Jawaharlal Rohatgi. The volunteers marched in the streets carrying placards which proclaimed, ‘Trade in foreign cloth is sucking the life-blood of India’.57 In Lucknow the chief organiser of picketing was Suniti Debi Mitra. Her campaign made a dozen shopkeepers at Aminabad offer the foreign cloth in their shops for sealing by the Congress Committee, and at Chowk Bazaar some customers returned the cloth they had bought (Hindustan Times, 15 January 1930, p. 9). While in 1928 the Congress had respected British ‘sensitivities’ and not marched through Hazratganj during the civil disobedience movement, nationalist leaders refused to accept the spatial boundaries set by the British Deputy Commissioner in Lucknow, Munro (Low 1997: 93–95). The newspaper The Leader reported on the success of picketing by women in Allahabad: During the last five days picketing of cloth shops has been so intense that not one yard of foreign cloth has been sold. In Allahabad startling stories of their (women’s) successes in preventing people from buying foreign cloth are heard. Mrs Uma Nehru and Mrs Kaul are the main organisers (29 April 1930, p. 9).

On certain occasions the volunteers were so convincing that shopkeepers sought their help in removing the foreign cloth to the godowns (The Leader, 29 April 1930, p. 11). The volunteers used three tactics in conducting their foreign cloth picketing. First, they walked up and down in front of the cloth shops, advocating the use of only swadeshi cloth. Apart from preventing the sale of foreign cloth, the volunteers pursued those who did buy foreign cloth until they handed back their purchases or ‘agreed to have their bales of foreign cloth sealed’.58 Lord Irwin wrote to Wedgwood Benn, the Secretary of State for India, about a case he had heard of where the picketers followed home women who had bought foreign silk for a wedding. They frightened the mother of

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the bride-to-be with tales of an unlucky marriage if the silk were used. ‘The old lady burst into tears and insisted on her daughters taking the stuff back to the shop’ (Mss.Eur.C.152/6, 5 September 1930). Second, women satyagrahis extracted pledges and signatures from dealers that they would not sell foreign cloth. The dealers were fined if they broke the pledges. The task of picketing relied on the social pressure it could exert. The women were often drawn from the same caste as the men frequenting the stores (Agnew 1979: 46). In certain places there would be a social boycott with the help of caste panchayats of merchants who refused to comply (Brown 1977: 127). Agra was most efficient in disrupting the sale of foreign cloth (PP.Hin.B. 33, 1931: 48). Under the leadership of Parvati Devi, Sukhdevi Paliwal and Damyanti Devi, women volunteers managed to get 150 signatures in a single day. The pledge paper said that there would be no sale of foreign cloth for six months. The volunteers called on a dharna in front of the houses of people who did not sign until they finally relented (PP.Hin.B. 33, 1931: 47). In Ferozabad, on the insistence of Sukhdevi Paliwal, temple pujaris clothed their deities in khadi and some temples stopped the entry of people wearing foreign clothes. Third, if reasoning and pleas with the shopkeepers failed, women would lie down in front of the stores and dissuade the customers from making purchases (transcript of interview with Sridevi Tewari). They would often sit outside the shops plying their taklis (spinning wheels), silently suggesting to every Indian that they must not buy cloth from that shop. ‘European and Anglo-Indian customers (were) not interfered with, but on an Indian customer appearing, the picketers blow a whistle whereupon 15–20 volunteers rush up and lie down in front of the would be purchaser and if he tries to walk over them, catch him by the feet and shout “shame”, surround him and threaten social boycotts.’59 Every year at the Nauchandi Mela in Meerut foreign cloth was boycotted and women would sit for fourteen hours a day on dharnas (Kumar 1930). If a woman leader or an activist was arrested on any occasion, the Mahila Satyagraha Samiti of Meerut would organise a bonfire of foreign cloth. Moral persuasion was often used to involve both men and women in the boycotts. This is demonstrated in a patriotically expressive poem by Govind Ram Gupta in a collection of proscribed literature published by

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Lala Sawaldam from Bukselar. Paying tribute to Mrs Urmila Devi, a well-known leader from Meerut, it urges women to leave their homes and purdah behind and prepare themselves to be arrested for their activities.60 The poem praises the nationalist activities of salt-making and picketing of shops selling foreign cloth and toddy (country liquor). Sister Urmila awakened the whole of Meerut, The whole nation is manufacturing salt, so should we, When it came to the question of nationalism, She planted the tree of freedom. Hey! Womankind, leave your comfortable homes, Give your bangles to the menfolk, Leave your veils behind, Come out in the streets and bazaars, Leave the task of making chappatis to the men, Let us go out and make salt. Do not let one paisa worth of foreign cloth be sold, Sit on a dharna outside the toddy shops, Do not be afraid of bullets or sticks, Sing happily once behind the jail bars. (PIB. 67/19, 1931)

Lines such as ‘Give your bangles to the menfolk’, and ‘Leave the task of making chappatis to the men’ suggests that if the men are not ready to support the movement, they should stay at home and do women’s household chores, an inversion of gendered roles. Men should take charge of domestic affairs and women will go out on the streets and conduct nationalist activities. Women would often send bangles in envelopes to men who expressed loyalty towards the British government. Sometimes there would be picketing to force these men to wear the bangles. Satya Saxena commented: We used to put bangles in envelopes and put it in the post to Indians loyal to the British. Once in the Mall road in Kanpur we went to the house of T.D. Kochar, a senior executive officer, and forced him to wear bangles. He felt shy and wore them.61

Poems like those by Govind Ram Gupta were read out on dharnas, sent around on printed leaflets or memorised. Male participation was often

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questioned as well as shaped through the construction of a particular form of ‘weak’ masculinity, defined and contrasted with a ‘nationalist’ masculinity, embodied in men who through their participation were serving the motherland. Women’s personal honour and the motherland’s honour were used as interchangeable symbols. The symbolism of the bangles implied that men had failed to protect their own women in the prevailing political crisis and were ‘cowards’ in relation to other dauntless men who were fighting for the nation. Therefore, women have taken the initiative to protect their honour and stepped outside their homes.62 At the end of each day the foreign clothes were burnt in public bonfires. This was referred to as ‘Holi’, the name of an Indian festival that celebrates the victory of good over evil. The ‘good’ here was the Indian nation and the ‘evil’ was the power of the colonial rulers. Stopping the sale of foreign cloth and wearing homespun cloth were a means of support for the national boycott as well as symbolic acts of pride in the indigenous industries. The public burning of cloth referred to as ‘Holi’ was also an instance of ‘propaganda by deed’, used effectively by the Congress for mobilisation (Pandey 1978: 84). The British responded on two levels. On one hand they would dismiss picketing as a tamasha or spectacle and undermine the nationalist leanings of the volunteers by referring to them as ‘professional agitators’ or ‘extremists’. In relation to women’s participation and subsequent conviction in the United Provinces, the Meerut Commissioner mentioned that women were ‘possessed of less sober judgement’ and ‘more and more led away by what they see in the papers’.63 While it is true of any political mass movement that people are carried away by nationalist sentiment, it would be incorrect to suggest that women were thoughtless or irrational as the statement implied. In fact women themselves suggested the ambiguities and contradictions that they experienced. Some women did not have much interest in the movement but conducted certain acts to express solidarity with women who were supporting the nationalist cause, acts such as giving up their foreign clothes. In one particular instance a respondent was returning home after bathing in the Ganges and had a foreign silk chadar wrapped around her (to keep purdah). On the way she saw a group of women burning ‘Holi’ and was inspired to give up her chadar. Also, she

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expressed that she did not want to be perceived as ‘hostile’ to the movement by the other women in the neighbourhood.64 On the other hand the British expressed a political concern which was reflected through a tightening of the ordinances. The Prevention of Intimidation Ordinance of 1930 was expanded to include ‘molestation’ ‘boycott’ and ‘unlawful instigation’, to ‘deal with cloth and liquor shop picketers’ in Muzaffarnagar, Dehradun, Bulandshahr and Saharanpur.65 It was alleged by the British that through picketing of foreign cloth shops, ‘Congress volunteers were out to make money by blackmail and terrorism’. ‘They are professional agitators and … there is every reason to believe that such picketing will lead to a breach of the peace and communal riots.’66 It was suggested that participation as volunteers was linked with the ‘break of monsoon’ and till then the volunteers would look for ‘other means of livelihood’. ‘In Hathras, two villages, Baghraya and Puner, have supplied volunteers who get 6 annas a day’ (ibid.). It was suggested that male ‘dehati’ re-inforcements from the villages in Dehradun ‘will no doubt return home with the break of the monsoon’.67 Though picketing was successful there were broader issues that can be discerned from the official correspondence. It does appear that while the Hindu shopkeepers had not appealed for ‘police assistance and protection from the picketers’ in some districts such as Aligarh the Muslim shopkeepers were resistant to picketing. Some skirmishes between Muslim shop owners and Hindu volunteers were noted. In Aligarh a large public meeting was held at the Jama Masjid with a view to start an anti-picketing party to counteract the picketing of foreign cloth shops by Congress leaders. ‘However, the nationalist musalman Mr Nisar Ahmed Sherwani of Aligarh unanimously made everybody agree through a resolution that Muslims should not in any way stand in the way of the work of the Congress.’68 It also appears that the threat of ‘social boycott’ and ‘public disgracing’ of Muslims who filed written complaints or who refused to comply was imminent in this exchange of letters.69 Hindu picketers did respect the religious sentiment of Muslims by not picketing during Moharram and Bakr-Id. On the other hand, some Hindu merchants who saw the ‘brisk sale’ of foreign cloth by Muslim shop owners resisted Congress demands to seal their foreign stocks (Hasan 1988: 335). Moreover, in certain districts such as Fatehpur, the price of swadeshi cloth had risen and it was

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suggested by the British supporters that it was bound to have an effect on purchases of foreign cloth. Along with foreign cloth, cigarette and handkerchief and hosiery shops were also picketed. Muslims were urged to join the movement. For example, local leaders such as Mushir Husain Qidwai, Hafiz Hidayat Husain and Hafiz Usman suggested that Muslims in Saharanpur should join hands with the Hindus in driving the English out of India.70 For those Muslims who were not interested it was suggested that they should not place any obstacles in the way of their Hindu neighbours. On the other hand in some meetings an anti-Muslim stance was adopted.71 Some of these meetings were organised by provincial Arya Samaj committees. Women also gave up their ornaments and household valuables. Though Gandhi had argued that wearing ornaments was part of a male conspiracy to ‘make women into ornaments’, this idea was not reflected in women’s narratives. For them giving up ornaments was related more to supporting the movement financially. Manavati Arya, who played an important role in the Indian National Army’s women’s wing, the Rani of Jhansi Regiment, said that she ‘sold all (her) jewellery for the struggle’.72 An associate of Manavati Arya said that ‘giving away jewellery was not a big thing, almost every woman did that those days. It was far more difficult to give oneself to the cause’.73 Mahadevi Verma, a literary figure from Allahabad, in her book Chintan Ke Shan narrates a beautiful story where she was presented a silver carved bowl for her poetry. During the same time Bapu (Mahatma Gandhi) who was visiting Allahabad was staying at Anand Bhawan. She handed the bowl to Gandhi for him to see, and ‘he said “to deti hai iise”? (Do you give it to me?) What could I say? I was sad that at least on taking the bowl, he could have asked me to recite the poem for which I had got it. But even then I was pleased in my heart that I had handed it over for my country, the bowl I had received in recognition of my talent’ (Verma 1986, 101–5).

THE PICKETING

OF

LIQUOR SHOPS

Liquor, like salt and cloth, was closely associated with both national and domestic economies. It was argued that the tax on liquor was a major source of revenue for the British, and if women could successfully stop the sale of liquor, they would improve the financial conditions of many

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households with male drinkers. Gandhi believed that ‘only those women who have drunkards as their husbands know what havoc the drink devil works in homes that once were orderly and peace-giving’ (Gandhi 1930: 121). Moreover, opposition to liquor sales was symbolic of the purity and respectability of the nationalist movement and Gandhi believed that women were best suited for this. As he stated: If men approach drunkards, the latter will resort to obscene language; however, if young girls approach them as to why they drink, ask them what indeed they are up to, whether it befits them under the influence of drink to fail to recognise a mother or a daughter, then on hearing such words steeped in affection, even the worst of drunkards will hang his head in shame (CWMG Vol. XLIII: 154–55).

However, occasional columns under ‘Contemporary Opinion’ in newspapers such as The Leader questioned this nationalist discourse of respectability: We are no advocates of the purdah but women brought up within the purdah tradition must suffer when suddenly called upon to interfere with strangers marketing in the bazaars. It seems pitiful that even when women are called from their seclusion, it should be to do work which even in the West would be deemed unseemly and which Indian opinion must consider unwomanly (The Leader, 3 May 1930, p. 18).

The superiority of the ‘West’ was identified through a Victorian model of respectability, which considered Indian women engaging in nationalist boycotts as ‘unseemly’. As mentioned earlier, the nationalist leaders had expressed concern about distinguishing women ‘of the streets’ from women ‘on the streets’, and this was resolved through the symbolic representations of women as guardians of the motherland. Giving up liquor was linked with respect for the nation and for its women, the bearers of national respectability. At the same time, some respondents mentioned problems, which arose during liquor picketing. One of them stated: I picketed foreign cloth shops but never sat on a dharna in front of liquor shops because we were young and sometimes the customers were antisocial elements (source: transcript of interview with Sridevi Tewari).

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The tactics of women while picketing were usually the same as those in the picketing of foreign cloth shops. Women would go in deputations to the owners of liquor booths and ask them to give up this trade. Women would also visit homes and persuade men to give up drinking. The most intense picketing took place at Firozabad in Agra. Male and female swayamsevikas (volunteers) sat on a dharna before 22 to 23 shops, and they were clearly successful since the sale of liquor declined. Dharna was a form of silent protest in which the sevikas would sit in front of shops and obstruct their normal activities. Sevikas who sat on the dharna displayed qualities of self-sacrifice, forbearance and bodily sacrifice. The sufferings of the sevikas through fasting or enduring adverse weather were effective for the moral persuasion of the relentless shop owners. On certain occasions, however, the shop owners resisted. In a particular instance, Saurabji and M.S.P. Ganju, owners of a cooperative store in Agra, asked their workers to bodily lift the volunteers out of the way. In Agra district, in the smaller towns of Pinhat, Dhimishri, Faihabad and Samshabad, volunteers began destroying palm trees from which toddy was prepared. In Jagapur volunteers cut down the toddy trees while in Manoharpur and Sikandpur zamindars pledged not to lease out their toddy trees (PP.Hin.B. 33, 1931: 52–54). Whereas usually the toddy shops were auctioned annually to prospective buyers at good prices, during the civil disobedience the picketers disrupted these auctions, bringing the prices down. The best example was that of Allahabad where over successive years the prices fell. The British were called ‘toddies’ because of the revenue they earned from encouraging liquor sales. One of the popular slogans of the time was, ‘Toddy bacha hai hai’ (Toddy babies, be doomed, be doomed).74 In UP women’s activities were supported by women’s organisations, which held regular meetings, and besides propagating swadeshi also discussed other issues related to social reform and upliftment. These organisations were the Mahila Swaraja Sabha at Kanpur, Mahila Satyagraha Samiti at Meerut, Stree Samaj at Aligarh and Meerut, Stree Mandal at Lucknow and Prantiya Mahila Parishad at Jhansi (Saxena 1988: 5). In Meerut, Urmila Devi advocated for women’s inheritance rights and the Arya marriage bill which made polygamy unlawful (Kumar 1930). Women volunteers who did not participate in specific nationalist campaigns like breaking the salt law or picketing shops selling foreign

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cloth and liquor participated in processions. Traditional forms of women’s public appearance in festivals were incorporated and politicised by the nationalist leaders. A particular kind of procession was the prabhat pheri. Through them Gandhi was able to use conventional religious symbols for new and revolutionary ends. They could be performed in the public sphere with women carrying over their traditional religious values from the domestic sphere. Political themes were substituted for traditional religious hymns, asserting feelings of nationality and the patriotism of the women. Traditional pheris were only taken out in the early hours of the morning and groups of women would leave their homes and walk to the temple. They would sing devotional songs, which concentrated largely on the grievances of the people and the injustices perpetuated by the government and the police. Pheris were a non-violent protest against colonial rule and were purposeful in increasing women’s awareness towards their public surroundings. One of the most popular songs dealt with Gandhi’s themes of charkha and swadeshi. (Times of India, 11 August 1930, p. 4). For women who observed strict purdah, participating in a pheri or an ordinary procession was like ‘going out to a mela (fair), an activity that women were allowed only if accompanied by other members’.75 Whereas the traditional pheris would end at a temple, nationalist processions would end in a meeting. These meetings gave protsahan (generated enthusiasm) to the women who attended. Women leaders would give provocative speeches on issues concerning the political situation, and a range of issues related to the political, social and economic lives of the populace were raised. A typical exhortation was: ‘British hukumat ka man, dhan aur jan se madad karna haram he’ (To support the British with your mind, wealth and populace is the most evil thing) (from transcript of interview with Kishori Dixit). This emphasised women’s dharma and the moral duty which would enable her to see the difference between good and evil for the nation. The concept of dharma within the domestic sphere was associated with women maintaining healthy households and offering support to their husbands. When women stepped out onto the streets, the domestic values of the dharma were transformed into duty towards the nation and the expectation that women would uphold nationalist values.

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The British responded by curtailing freedom of speech through the Press and Registration of Books Act (XXV) of 1867. Satyagraha Samachar was one of the targeted newspapers.76 After it was proscribed it stopped being published as a newspaper and started appearing on ‘cyclostyled sheets’ which were handwritten or typed. Since the latter were not produced through a printing press, the satyagrahis successfully evaded the ordinance. Sarojini Naidu expressed her opinion on the Press ordinance and said, ‘You can confiscate the iron printing apparatuses (fauladi loha), the ink and the pens (kalam), but you cannot capture the heart which is filled with a desire for freedom. It is a virtue that even the most powerful government cannot capture through its commands and laws’ (yeh aisi padarth hai jo sansar ke sabse shaktishali sarkar bhi apne hukme aur kanuno se kaid nahi kar sakti).77 The British reported that ‘the policy of the Congress appears to bring economic pressure on the government by the boycotting of British goods, railways and to cause government extra expense in the maintenance of the prisoners in the jails. An effort has been made to gain the sympathy of the public by putting in the forefront women volunteers, a number of whom have already been arrested’.78 When Gandhi was arrested on 7 May 1930, Ahmad Khan Sherwani, in a speech said that ‘Indians of all schools of thought, the future of the country depends on the present unity and unanimity among the people’. Motilal Nehru said that ‘it is only when one gets an opportunity can a man (mard) prove he is a man and a woman prove she is a woman’. Women were to use the symbolic constructions and move beyond these constructed boundaries of femininity. Along with women, students and youths also played a significant part. A significant feature of this nationalist phase was the formation of youth leagues. The leaders of the first nationalist generation were quick to identify the potential in the younger generation. The boycott of the Simon Commission in February 1928 was clear evidence of this energy. The Simon Commission (headed by Sir John Simon) was controversial, particularly the fact that the body that was to decide the future constitutional status of India had no Indian representatives on it. The Indian National Congress at its Madras session presided over by Dr M.A. Ansari decided to boycott the Commission ‘at every stage and in every form’. In Lahore, Lala Lajpat Rai, who participated in a

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peaceful anti-Simon demonstration, was struck on his chest by a lathi (baton) wielded by an English officer, and he was to later succumb to his injuries.79 When the Commission subsequently reached Lucknow people were aware of the assault on Lala, and they increased the vigour of the demonstrations under the leadership of Jawaharlal Nehru and Govind Ballabh Pant (Nehru 1949: 1879–181). When Nehru and Subhas Chandra Bose founded the Independence League in 1928, Nehru commented: ‘After long suppression the spirit of youth is up in arms against all forms of authoritarianism and is seeking an outlet in many ways and in many directions. Youth leagues have sprung up in all parts of the country and individual young men and women, weary of the continual and barren strife of many of their elders, are groping for a path which might lead them to a fuller realization of themselves …’.80 The outlet, according to Nehru, was to be through his ideas on internationalism and socialism, the ‘only ideals worthy of the fine temper of the youth’ (Gopal 1980: 452). Addressing a youth congress at Calcutta in December 1928, Bose, who was aware of the swelling discontent among the younger generation, declared: The youths of India are no longer content with handing over all responsibility to their elders with folded hands. They have realised that it is for them to create a new India—an India free, great and powerful (Bose 1964: 152–55).

Volunteers from youth leagues played an important role in closing down educational institutions. From July to August of 1930, the universities at Allahabad, Lucknow and Benares stopped functioning (Brown 1977: 140).

NO RENT–NO REVENUE CAMPAIGN The no rent–no revenue campaign was indicative that the movement was no longer confined to the towns but also spreading in the rural areas. Small demonstrations in villages were reported from the districts of Aligarh, Etah, Bareilly, Farrukhabad, Unao and Saharanpur.81 The campaign involved both the zamindars (taluqdars) and the tenants (Kumar 1989). The independence pledge mentioned that ‘India has

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been ruined economically. The heavy taxes we pay, 20 per cent are raised from the land revenue derived from the peasantry and 3 per cent from the salt tax, which falls most heavily on the poor’.82 Some of these agitations led to the resignation of mukhias and village chaukidars. The cultivators who had paid rents previously demanded a remission of those rents through the panchayats, which were being specially established to solve this issue. In Cawnpore, at a meeting, the cultivators were told that a fourth of the rent could be given to the zamindars if they were kind, but nothing at all if they were unkind.83 Many meetings were held in villages in the districts of Agra, Allahabad, Lucknow and Aligarh. In Aligarh, Congress had little success in the no-rent campaign because the tenants were relatively better off than their counterparts in the eastern districts of UP (Hasan 1988: 336). Eastern and Central UP had a rigid landlord-tenant divide, whereas Aligarh along with Agra, Bulandshahr, Etah and Mainpuri districts had a range of agrarian classes such as landowners, pattidars and rich peasants (Stokes 1975: 119–20). Also, the Congress encountered hostility from Muslim zamindars, especially in the Atrauli area of Aligarh (Hasan 1988: 337).84 The British government reported that the villagers were not interested in Gandhian politics or khaddar, but had become keen on the issue of no-rent or remission of rents. ‘A thousand villagers gathered at the Aminabad Park, who have been advised by the Congress to place their grievances. The ultimate object of these grievances of the cultivators is to bring the whole peasantry into the hands of the Congress for a future revolt and to paralyse government by mass civil disobedience. Rural agitation has continued. The position of zamindars is becoming increasingly difficult and officers are receiving bitter complaints about the way in which the government has left them to fight alone’.85 In 1939 in Agra and Oudh, the Tenancy Act passed by the newly-formed Congress ministry facilitated the statutory tenants to have hereditary rights on their holdings. Also, restrictions were placed on landlords, who could not get a tenant imprisoned for non-payment of rent or illegally exact rent. Economic reasons cannot alone explain ‘subaltern militancy’ just as attitudes and consciousness that shape any form of collective action could be caste- and religion-based (Sarkar, in Guha 1982: 274).86 As Hasan points out in her work on Aligarh, ‘mobilisation is contingent on

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a range of social and economic determinants: historical conjunctures, agrarian structures, land reforms, government policy (and) strategy of ruling parties’ (Hasan 1989a: 14). I will not be able to do full justice to these debates, but would like to point out the importance of rumour in rural mobilisation. Myth-making, fantasies and the role of rumour as an ‘oral and unauthored speech’ is also important in constructing a part of the ‘imaginary’ and in maintaining the momentum of the movement (see also Passerini 1990; Amin 1984).87 Shahid Amin’s work demonstrates how the image of Gandhi in Gorakhpur in eastern UP was consumed and articulated by the peasants (Amin 1984: 5). Rumours and myths about Gandhi’s swaraj or ram rajya not only fired peasant consciousness but was also used to justify non-payment of rent and taxes (Mitra 1988: 156). Similarly, Sarkar, in relation to Bengal, argues that central in studying popular movements is the concept of breakdown, whether real or rumoured, of the coercive power. For example, during the swadeshi movement rumours of confrontation between landed gentry and the government led many peasants to assume it to be the right time to settle their land and rent grievances, and the Santhals in Bengal refused to pay the chowkidari tax because it had been abolished by ‘Gandhi Maharaj’s’ orders and wore Gandhi caps to be protected from bullets. The reality of the movement was perceived and understood through the symbolic construction of Gandhi as an ‘avatar’ or ‘devata’ (Sarkar 1984: 301; see also Samuel and Thompson 1990). The civil disobedience movement was temporally withdrawn by Gandhi following the Gandhi–Irwin Pact of 1931. The Congress met at Karachi on 29 March to endorse the Gandhi–Irwin Pact. The British in turn agreed to release some political prisoners and adopt less repressive measures. However, dissatisfaction crept within the Congress ranks and the movement was resumed in 1932 to be finally terminated in 1934. During the Karachi meeting, a committee was appointed which was to be chaired by Dr B. Pattabhi Sitaramayya to finalise the design of the national flag. The flag committee recommended that the colours in the flag were not to have any communal significance, but saffron would represent courage and sacrifice, white would represent peace and truth, and green, faith and chivalry. The charkha would represent the hopes of the masses.88 The withdrawal of the civil disobedience movement did not generate a favourable response from those

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inclined towards the left, who believed that anything else than a continuous struggle against colonial rule would be a compromise with imperialism.

THE QUIT INDIA MOVEMENT Under the Government of India Act of 1935,89 Congress swept into power in six provinces in 1937, the decision to contest elections being ratified in Lucknow by the Congress in 1936. The Government of India Act limiting the franchise to a sixth of the adults was perceived as flawed by the Congress as well as by the Leftists, who were gaining a stronghold. Though the 1935 Act enabled provincial autonomy, the governors appointed by the British government retained the power to veto legislative and economic issues. In 1937 the Congress in UP and Bihar had a significant victory and Congress leadership was often compelled to adopt agitationist practices to maintain leadership in these provinces (Mitra 1988: 163). The formation of Congress ministries served as a morale booster to the Indian population and was perceived as an alternative power vis-à-vis the British. The Congress ministries were to resign in 1939 after two years. There were also the wider global issues of World War II and India’s unwilling support for the Allies. In order to aid these negotiations further, the British government sent Stafford Cripps to India in 1942, for further negotiations, which broke down. Of chief concern to the Congress was the issue of full independence, which the government was not ready to accede to. In August 1942 the AICC ratified the Quit India movement at Bombay, and though Gandhi pressed on with his non-violent agitation, the movement turned violent following the arrest of the Congress leaders (Chandra et al. 1998). Articles published in vernacular magazines in the 1940s referred to the Quit India movement of 1942, and the expression ‘wheel … turning for the last time’ emphasising it as both the last phase of the movement as well as urging those women who, till then, had not had the opportunity to participate, to do so, either in the domestic sphere (spinning the charkha) or the public sphere (joining the movement). This could well be a reflection of domestic attitudes towards public life whereby by the 1940s the attitudes of households towards the participation of their womenfolk was more liberal than in

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the 1930s, and more women were thus able to engage in nationalist activities in both the public and domestic domains. On a broad level of generalisation, it can be stated that compared with articles published in the early years of the 20th century, articles published in the 1940s encouraged women to step out onto the streets and lay less emphasis on women bringing changes in the domestic sphere (Chand, 1940). Nearly all the leaders were arrested following British repression of the movement. However, all the nationalist activities were consolidated underground. The two women whose work is commendable during the Quit India movement are Aruna Asaf Ali and Sucheta Majumdar Kripalani. Aruna Asaf Ali, a Congress satyagrahi, decided that organised resistance and systematic dislocation rather than satyagraha was required to liberate the country. She was to work quite closely with Congress socialists such as J.P. Narayan and Ram Manohar Lohia. Sucheta Kripalani, unlike Aruna Ali, stuck to non-violent methods, but like Ali operated the underground movement in 1942 (Forbes 1998: 213).

WOMEN

AND

VIOLENCE

The Congress-led non-violent satyagraha was not the only fundamental and unrivalled form of anti-colonial resistance; its symbolic unity was challenged by the revolutionary ideology. The revolutionary movement challenged the hegemony of the ‘feminised’ GandhianCongress movement as the only legitimate movement for the political liberation of the country. The Congress had since 1885 gained a stronghold in the Hindi-speaking belt, but it was in the 1920s that the revolutionary movement achieved such popularity to challenge it. Bengal, Maharashtra, Punjab and UP reported most militant activities (Kasturi and Mazumdar 1994: 158). Both men and women were engaged in a range of revolutionary activities, and in Uttar Pradesh women actively participated in clandestine activities. Two qualifications are important here. First, the revolutionary movement was not the first instance of violence being used in nationalist activities. There was discontentment with the Gandhian strategies of passive non-violence led by the agrarian and industrial masses (see Guha 1986; Sarkar 1989). Some of the campaigns which stand as good examples of contrasts with the Gandhian ideology are: the satyagraha led

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by the Champaran indigo cultivators in 1917, the Kheda no-revenue satyagraha in Gujarat in 1918, and the Moplah Rebellion in Malabar in 1921 (Desai 1979). The Chauri Chaura anti-colonial resistance in UP in 1922 during the first phase of the civil disobedience movement saw protests by the masses, comprising mainly of peasants, who attacked and killed policemen and set fire to a police station (Desai 1979). Both Gandhi and the British recognised the extent of violence in these episodes, and while Gandhi stopped the movement, the British arrested the accused and gave them the death penalty. In fact Gandhi’s termination of the first civil disobedience movement in 1922 after the Chauri Chaura incident reflects a tacit recognition of the defiance of the masses and their dissatisfaction with Gandhian ideology. Despite Gandhi’s suspension of the movement, peasants attacked the zamindars and were fired upon by the British police. Second, women had conflicting as well as consensual interests and objectives, and did not uniformly agree or cooperate with the limits that men imposed on women’s activities and identities within the movement. At the same time, there were men and women who would identify themselves as being both gandhiwadi and krantikari. However in the early 1940s many krantikaris who initially referred to themselves as the socialist group within Congress were convinced that satyagraha alone could not achieve independence.90 The revolutionary movement stood ideologically opposed to the Gandhian ideology of non-violence, and unlike the agrarian masses the revolutionary movement had a distinct ideological framework. The revolutionaries and their support of a socialist ideology have been referred to by some historians as ‘terro-socialism’, which entailed participation in violent activities coupled with organising the workers, peasants and youth, and spreading socialist ideas (Mazumdar 1979: 168). Others, including the British authorities, use the term ‘terrorists’ for the revolutionaries. The Home Department of the Government of India in 1936 asked the Intelligence Bureau to compile a list called ‘Terrorism in India: 1917–1936’. Forbes argues that it is more appropriate to use the word ‘revolutionary’ rather than ‘terrorist’, because the former is closer to the Bengali term biplabi (Forbes 1980: 1). The Ghadr movement of 1913–15 were pioneers in taking revolutionary ideas to the army and the peasants. The word Ghadr means

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revolution, and the entire Ghadr movement was premised on a socialist ideology. The movement began in 1913 and ended in 1915 with the passing of the Defence of India Act of 1915, introduced to smash the Ghadr movement. The Ghadr movement was supported by its leader Har Dayal from San Francisco, who made Indians living in the US aware of British atrocities in India. An individual called Kartar Singh used to bring out the pamphlet Ghadr in America, and copies of it were distributed in north India (Dainik Jagran 1972: 58). There were two strands in revolutionary ‘terrorism’ in India: one in Punjab, UP and Bihar (north India), and the other in Bengal. Both these strands were influenced by working-class trade unionism and the newly-formed communist groups with their emphasis on Marxism, socialism and the proletariat. Revolutionaries drew their inspiration from the Bolshevik/Russian/Irish revolutions, and literature on Marxism-Leninism came into India from Russia and Ireland (for example, Victor Hugo, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky and Bernard Shaw). Pamphlets such as ‘A Narration of Lawlessness’, ‘Lectures of Ireland’s Loyal Citizens’ and V.D. Savarkar’s ‘First War of Independence’ used to arrive at members’ addresses marked ‘post-box’, and then further distributed (ibid.: 59).91 In 1924, under the leadership of Ram Prasad Bismil and Sachindranath Sanyal, the revolutionaries in north India organised themselves under their chief political organ, the Hindustan Socialist Republican Association (HSRA)—they added the word socialist to express the aim of this organisation—and later established connections with the Communist Party of India (CPI) in 1928. However after the Kakori robbery trial the revolutionaries in north India received a setback. Bejoy Kumar Sinha, Shiv Verma and Jaidev Kapur organised themselves in UP, while Bhagat Singh, Bhagwati Charan Vohra and Sukhdev in Punjab set about re-organising the HSRA under the leadership of Chandrashekhar Azad (Dainik Jagran August 1989: 6). The HSRA activities spread to UP, Punjab, the Central Provinces and Bihar. The party called upon Indians to throw the colonial government out with ‘an armed revolution’ (Rai 1978: 89).92 These revolutionary activities were supported by a wide range of publications, which were later to be classified as ‘proscribed’ by the British. In 1907 the first revolutionary newsletters Swaraj and Karam Yogi were

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published from Allahabad. In Kanpur, in 1908, the seditious ‘Purn’ Library was established at the Prayag Narayan Mandir and administered by Lala Har Dayal (Dainik Jagran 1972: 19).93 Some of the most inciting ones were ‘Philosophy of the Bomb’ written by Bhagwati Charn Vohra in 1929 and Saratchandra Chatterjee’s Pather Dabi. These along with a typed leaflet ‘Ready for bloodshed’, and a handwritten appeal to the youth to be ready for violence which was proscribed by the governments of the Punjab and UP, were extensively circulated at Agra, Lucknow, Cawnpore and Benares. The ‘UP Government has ordered the proscription of Azadi Ke Diwane printed at Allahabad Printing Works. Vidya Bhaskar Shukla, the author, Surya Sahai Dikshit, the publisher, and Banke Lal Sharma, the printer, are being prosecuted under Section 124-A-IPC. The book contains biographies of Khudi Ram Bose, Ram Prasad Bismil, Satyendra Kumar Basu, Kanai Lal Dutta and other revolutionaries. The proscription has also been ordered of a book called Kranti Ke Mandir Mein, written by Brahmachari Indra, which contains short accounts of revolutionaries connected with the Mainpuri conspiracy and the Kakori case’.94 The HSRA combined their activities with mobilisation and organisation of workers and peasants as well as espousing both an anticapitalist and anti-imperialist ideology. On 8 April 1929, in a continuation of their plan, to spread revolutionary socialism, Bhagat Singh and B.K. Dutt threw bombs in the Central Legislative Assembly against the passage of the Public Safety Bill and Trades Dispute Bill. The aim of these Bills was to reduce the civil liberties of citizens in general and workers in particular. Bhagat Singh in a letter before he was hanged in March 1931 said, ‘Let us declare that a state of war exists … as long as the toiling Indian masses and their natural resources are being exploited by a handful of exploiters, purely British capitalist, mixed British and Indian or even purely Indian’ (Sinha 1984: 316). They wanted to eliminate capitalist and imperialist exploitation and eventually wanted a socialist republic. However, at no point was the violence applauded. Bhagat Singh, a revolutionary, was in Punjab when in October 1928 the Simon Commission reached Lahore. While leading a demonstration against the Commission, Lala Lajpat Rai died after being hit by the British Superintendent of Police J.A. Scott’s lathi. The revolutionaries’ plan of revenge succeeded only to an extent: the man supposed to

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identify Scott could not tell one Englishman from another and pointed to the ASP, J.P. Saunders. Azad, Rajguru and Bhagat Singh shot Saunders dead and escaped. The Bhagat Singh-authored posters put up after the death of Saunders concluded: ‘Sorry for the bloodshed of a human being, but the sacrifice of individuals at the Altar of Revolution is inevitable’. Bhagat Singh was executed in 1931. Outside India, in the 1940s the Indian National Army (Azad Hind Fauj) was formed in south-east Asia under Subhas Chandra Bose, along with a separate women’s wing called the Rani of Jhansi Regiment, named after the legendary Rani of Jhansi (Lakshmi Bai) of the 1857 revolt. Bose believed in the mobilisation of powerful women whose models were derived from Indian mythology and history. ‘The warrior rani as a freedom fighter provided a legitimate alternative to the Gandhian nonviolent mainstream’ represented by Sita and Savitri (Hills and Silverman 1993: 744). The Rani of Jhansi Regiment was formed in 1943, and was symbolic of a new kind of female heroism. However, at no point did Bose while mobilising women for his regiment discredit Gandhi’s mobilisation of women for non-violent purposes (ibid.: 755). The INA or Indian National Army had recruits from Malaya, Singapore and Burma. However, with the collapse of Japan in World War II during 1944–45, the INA also met with defeat. Manavati Arya, Kesar Kaur (havildar), Narayani Ammal and Lakshmi Swaminathan Sehgal are some of the women who were active in the Rani of Jhansi Regiment.

THE REVOLUTIONARY/NATIONALIST ‘WOMAN’ Besides challenging the hegemony and homogeneity of the political liberation struggle, the revolutionary woman, in particular, challenged the effectiveness of non-violence as an efficient strategy for political liberation. She stood in opposition to the construct of the nationalist woman and all the qualities that she embodied. These constructs were both fragile and always exposed to re-construction. A woman/man did not always remain a prisoner of the construct, though the resilience of the construct/model should not be under-estimated. Constructs were shaped by political exigencies and changing political convictions. The difference between the two constructs was specifically on three planes: First, on the plane of symbolic imagery. Acts of terrorism took

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on spiritual and political significance: these acts would dispel the maya (illusion) of British power, serve as blood sacrifice for swaraj and make the common people conscious of the revolution. The writings of Vivekananda, Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, Sister Nivedita and Aurobindo gave the revolutionaries their rhetoric (Forbes 1980: 2). Like the satyagrahis, revolutionaries used religious imagery to rationalise and explain their activities. Women involved in sabotage stressed the destructive, aggressive and violent qualities of feminine deities like Shakti and Kali, thus constructing a different notion of femininity. Religious imagery was given political significance across the national spectrum, irrespective of political divisions. These were seen as symbols of the motherland and the nationalist spirit (Gordon 1973: 112). The image of Kali, which could be seen to represent both a woman who had abandoned her shame and femininity and a woman who destroyed evil. The representations of Kali depict an ‘inner tension within nationalism about the principles of female strength and about the violence and destructiveness latent in it’ (Sarkar 1987: 2012). Second, on the means of achieving the goal women revolutionaries believed that their activities served the nationalist cause more effectively than non-violence. These women believed in ‘maximum sacrifice by a minimum number’, and not the building of a mass movement (Basu 1979: 33). The difference in perception concerned the nature and timescale of acceptable resolutions of conflict. Revolutionary women argued that their plans were more efficient than those of peaceful satyagrahis. However, they drew a distinction between revolutionary activities and terrorism, a distinction blurred in the statements of non-violent activists. For example, non-violent activists believed that terrorist activity entailed the indiscriminate killing of innocent people without a clear purpose, whereas revolutionaries saw their activity as serving the freedom of the nation by the killing of targeted English administrators only. With every killing the national cause was being served, and ‘as long as the action is for the nation, everything is alright’.95 A male activist commented on the Nehru strategy: Nehru’s sisters were not doing any work. Just joining a procession is no nationalist work. When you are under foreign power, nationalism cannot be confined to non-violence and passivity. Honesty should not be tried when stratagem can succeed. In this connection, Aruna Asaf Ali and Manohar Lohia went underground. They were wise because they did not

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want to be arrested and thus went underground. They said that they wanted to do maximum damage.96

The Gandhian symbols and meanings associated with the charkha and khadi were used in some of the poems to mobilise individuals to participate in revolutionary activities. The protection of these nationalist emblems, if violence was necessary, would also mean protection of the ‘motherland’. Tiranga hai Jhanda hamara Beech Charkha chamakta sitara Shaan ye he Izzat Hamari Sar jhukati hai Hind Sari Chahe sab kuch khusi sa chadhana Par Viro na jhanda jhukana Goliyo ki jhadi jab lagi thi Neev Azadi ke padi thi (recited by Raj Kumari Gupta) (translated) (There is the three-coloured flag of ours Between that is a shining charkha This is our pride, this is our honour The whole of India has its head bowed Heroes, you can sacrifice anything But do not let your national flag bow in disrespect When we sprayed the bullets That is when we laid the foundation of India’s independence).

Third, violence tended to be the prerogative of the male sex, so that women’s involvement with violence and sabotage raised new questions about the definition of middle-class femininity: an image of an ideal non-violent woman juxtaposed with the revolutionary woman undertaking violent activities. The feminine trait of sacrifice was expressed very differently by a non-violent satyagrahi ‘on the streets’ compared with dangerous revolutionary action and a woman’s sacrifice of her body for the nation. ‘Sacrifice has always been a culturally approved behaviour for women’ (Gordon 1973: 12). For women revolutionaries, ‘the culturally approved and highly valued sacrifice was extended into the modern political realms’ (ibid.).

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Family support for violent activities was important since women were not supposed to do ‘anything outside four walls’. ‘Also, in those days, no wife could do anything that her husband did not like. However, my father was keen that I should be able to move about freely and engage in whatever activity I liked’.97 At times, women’s ‘involvement (was) independent of any support from their family members or of the leadership’ (Agnew 1979: 62). Extended families, particularly in-laws, disowned their daughters-in-law when they were found to be associated with revolutionary activities. Raj Kumari Gupta’s in-laws also published an item in the local newspaper Vir Bharat saying that ‘we have no relationship with her’.98 Raj Kumari had supplied guns and pistols to assist the Kakori robbery. Revolutionary activities were undertaken by young women within and outside the domestic sphere, and unlike the experiences of the non-violent satyagrahis, women who took the revolutionary path were exposed to various degrees of violence. Several reasons are associated with women becoming revolutionaries. In relation to Bengal, it is argued that ‘if the Gandhian movement encouraged women to become mass participants in the freedom struggle, the revolutionaries made them equal participants’ (Chatterjee 2001: 42; Gordon 1973: 8). The need for women was felt particularly after the Chittagong Armoury Raids in April 1930, since with the reviving of the Bengal Criminal Amendment Law Act many young Hindu men were imprisoned or seen as suspects (Chatterjee 2001). In the Hindi-speaking belt, one idea that is dominant in both male and female narratives is the ‘disgust’ and ‘indignation’ with British atrocities: the death sentences, treatment in the prisons and the use of violence by the British authorities. In the Benares bomb case, bomb-making materials were found in the house of two young women associates, Ms Mrinalini and Radha Rani Debi, both from a middle-class background.99 Both of them were members of the Benares Youth League and had earlier taken part in picketing. However, disenchantment with the nonviolent programme caused them to resort to terrorism. The other person accused was Mrinalini’s daughter, Jogmaya. All three were arrested under sections 4 and 5 of the Explosive Substances Act and Section 19F of the Arms Act.

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CONCLUDING REMARKS No single factor can be delineated which can explain the ‘mass participation’ of middle-class women in the nationalist movement. It was a complex matrix of political expectations and responses to the nationalist movement. Conservative norms affected both elite women and ordinary middle-class women with either no education or very little education. However, the elite women had the support of male leaders from their own households, which made their public entry easier than those of the ordinary middle-class women. The political charisma of nationalist leaders such as Gandhi and Nehru further facilitated this process. However, since elite women shared the same social norms as middle-class women, they needed a stronger political platform through which they could motivate themselves as well as other middle-class women. This was provided through two channels: first, the incorporation of domestic articles such as salt and cloth into the political discourse. Ordinary middle-class women could relate to these items of daily use. Second, nationalist symbolism associated with women as nurturers and defenders of civilisation elevated women’s existing roles in both public and domestic domains, facilitated by the wider favourable nationalist atmosphere of segregation and respectability. The latter was important for both elite and ordinary middle-class women. Once women negotiated the diffused publicprivate boundaries, they had the choice of adopting the different political ideologies of either non-violent Gandhism or revolutionary strategies, which often used violence as a means of achieving political aims.

Notes 1 This song was composed by Shyamlal Gupta in 1924 and was sung to salute the flag. 2 Home Pol., 1933, File No. 3/11: ‘Total convictions in connection with the civil disobedience movement’. 3 Interview conducted with Promilla Loomba in Delhi in 1993. She was born in Multan in 1925 and grew up in Lahore. 4 Interviews with Sridevi Tewari, Kaushalya Devi, Uma Dixit, Narayani Tripathi and Sushila Rohatgi. 5 Transcript of interview with Sridevi Tewari. Sridevi Tewari, a Brahmin, was born in 1918 and grew up in Kanpur. Her mother was illiterate and kept purdah, but Sridevi studied till the eighth standard. She was given a

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lot of encouragement by her father who encouraged her and her brother to go and listen to political speeches at the Shradhanand park in Kanpur. Transcripts of interviews with Urmilla Goorha and Ganga Devi. Madhuri Singh’s mother and her other friends such as Danavati Saxena, and Kamala Shukla. These names were provided by Uma Dixit. Transcript of interview with Uma Dixit. Transcript of interview with Urmilla Goorha. According to Indian tradition, a woman is supposed to leave her husband’s home only upon her death. A recognised saying in India is: ‘Jo sati hai woh to doli mein aati hai aur uski arti hi uski pati ke ghar se jati hai’ (A woman who is faithful to her traditions will uphold that tradition of Indian womanhood until her dying breath). Under such circumscribing circumstances only a strong emotional response on the part of women could have driven them to leave their homes in such large numbers. Transcripts of interviews with Kaushalya Devi and Sridevi Tewari. Kaushalya Devi, a Brahmin, was born in 1922 in Aligarh. Her father was the headmaster of a British-run school in Aligarh. She completed her high school in Hindi. After her marriage she moved to her husband’s home in Kanpur. She kept purdah, and though her husband did not appreciate any political involvement, she participated in the movement whenever she visited her family in Aligarh. Transcripts of interviews with Brij Rani Misra, Vijay Devi Rathore and Usha Kumari Azad. Transcript of interview with Vijay Devi Rathore. Transcripts of interviews with Usha Kumari Azad, Gayatri Dubey, Kishori Dixit, Tulsi Devi and Usha Krishna Azad. Manikben Lallubai Solanki was a primary school teacher at the Ahmedabad Municipal Corporation School when she lost her job for anti-government activities. When her husband participated in distributing Congress pamphlets, they were both thrown out from their in-laws’ house. She only resumed her job after Independence. (Transcript of interview with Manikben Lallubai Solanki.) The article was titled ‘Gandhian Ideology and Women’s Revolution’. The literature on brahmacharya, conceived primarily in male terms, illustrates the extent to which the ‘spiritual’ male body became a focal site for a discourse of nationalism in the late 20th century. Gandhi mentioned that men and women could offer social service if they stopped being sexual objects to each other, i.e., become brothers, sisters, mothers and sons (Alter 1994: 62). Kasturba was taught how to read and write by an educated Adivasi, Dasheri Ben, who was from Verchi, Gujarat (‘True Grit’, The Week, 30 May 1993). Transcript of interview with Lakshmi Sehgal. She qualified as a doctor from Madras in 1937–38 and settled in Singapore in 1940. She became the captain of the Rani of Jhansi Regiment, the all-female brigade of the Indian National Army. The Regiment was formed during 1943–45.

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In Britain, wives and friends of the British political elite ‘witnessed’ politics and were assigned to the peripheral Ladies gallery in the House of Commons, the re-designed building after it burned down in 1834. Nira Yuval-Davis and Floya Anthias have identified five ways in which women tend to be projected as participants in ethnic and national struggles. These are: (i) as biological reproducers of members of ethnic collectivities, (ii) as reproducers of boundaries, (iii) as transmitters of culture, (iv) as signifiers of ethnic/national differences, and, (v) as participants in national, economic, political and military struggles (Anthias and YuvalDavis 1989: 7). The Serbian community was since the 1980s at a disadvantage compared to Albania because of its low birth rate, and the perceived threat to its size and strength led the nationalist party to hold women responsible for not fulfilling their duty ‘to reproduce the nation’ (Bracewell 1996: 27). In Hinduism ‘gender stereotypes are broken down in the attribution of power, whether negative-unruly, destructive or positive-maternal, protective’ (Rajan 1998: 35). Some have seen an exclusive focus on Hindu nationalist symbols and incorporation of Hindu goddesses implying an unparalleled divisiveness between Hindus and Muslims (see Bagchi 1990). Narayani Dixit’s husband was Kalka Prasad Tripathi, a Congress member. Transcript of interview with Madhavi Lata Shukla, also see Home Police, File No. 106/1930, Lucknow State Archives. Madhavi Lata Shukla, a Brahmin was born in 1930 and grew up in Lucknow. She participated in the Quit India Movement. Interview with Sharad Kumari Sinha. Transcript of interview with P.C. Mitra. Transcript of interview with Ram Krishna Khatri. Transcript of interview with Shiv Verma. He was born in 1911 and came to Kanpur in 1928. Married to Phul Kumari Devi, who kept purdah and lived with her in-laws in Khamouli village near Kanpur. He was a Congress supporter, and also a supporter of Chandra Shekhar Azad. She was encouraged by her husband and her mother-in-law to participate in the movement (Saxena 1988: 8). As early as the 1920s the issue of purdah was debated by women’s organisations like the AIWC (All India Women’s Conference) and WIA (Women’s India Association). Some Muslim women who identified purdah with Islam preferred to conform to Islamic traditions. Female members of the Muslim League were antagonistic towards the idea of the AIWC being dominated by ‘Congress-minded’ Hindu women. They were also sensitive to the fact that Hindu women could be more effective in passing legislation by sheer majority (Forbes 1981: 60). However, the organisations took a moderate attitude towards purdah and were in favour of special schools for girls in purdah. Some Muslim women leaders also believed that keeping purdah was not wrong in ‘principle’ but in the ‘degree’ to which it was observed (ibid.: 67).

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Transcripts of interviews with Satya Saxena and Madhavi Lata Shukla. Bhagat Singh was a member of the militant Hindustan Socialist Republican Army that was founded in 1928. He was tried and found guilty of throwing bombs in the legislative assembly, attempting to blow up Lord Irwin’s train near Delhi and a whole series of ‘terrorist’ attacks in towns in Punjab and UP (Sarkar 1983: 268). The riots were sparked off by the effort of local nationalists to achieve a hartal (a close-down of shops and sale of merchandise) in protest against the execution of Bhagat Singh. However some Muslim shop-keepers who resisted these attempts incurred the anger of Hindu nationalists (Pandey 1990: 243). Transcript of interview with Satya Saxena. A Kayastha by caste, he grew up in Kanpur. His father, who worked at the J.K. Mills, did not participate in political activities, but also did not stop his wife from participating. Satya accompanied his mother to most of the meetings. Transcript of interview with Kala Tripathi. Transcript of interview with Mazma Begum. The partition of India has a deep-seated narrative: the smallest codes of behaviour observed between Hindus and Muslims could precipitate at an unconscious level the most irrational forms of communal hatred. When Muslims would come visiting a Hindu they had to eat from different utensils and then clean it themselves (transcript of interview with Kamala Seth). There may often be differences between the way the state defines and negotiates women’s identities and how women perceive their own identities. The post-colonial Indian defined women in terms of their religious identities as either Hindu or Muslim. However, women often see themselves differently, ‘as members of a community, as a Sikh, or Hindu, or Muslim, as mothers, as women—and acted upon these different identities at different times’ (Butalia 1993: WS19). Aruna herself was a Hindu, but married Asaf Ali, a Muslim barrister from Delhi. Transcript of interview with Hasra Begum, NMML. Transcript of interview with Hasra Begum, NMML. Transcript of interview with M.P. Singh. General Report on Public Instruction in the United Provinces of Agra and Oudh, March 1931, cited in Hasan 1988: 337. One of the consequences of this has been that women who enter and are seen in those spaces, defined as public, are open to suspicion (see Walkowitz 1980). This was apparent in most of the interviews. Dainik Jagran feature article on the nationalist movement, 18 October 1992, p. 2. Transcript of interview with Sridevi Tewari. This was supported by the Hindu religious canon, which suggests that Lord Krishna was born in prison.

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CWMG Vol. XLIII: 190. The Leader, 23 May 1930, p. 9; Bombay Chronicle, 26 May 1930. Home Pol., File No. 106/1930, extract from Satyagraha Samachar, 18 June 1930, Lucknow State Archives. PP.Hin.B. 33, 1931: 8–14. The Leader, 9 April 1930, p. 11. Hutheesing 1967: 103. Transcript of interview with Sridevi Tewari. Transcript of interview with Sridevi Tewari. The Leader, 1 May 1930, p. 11, and IOR: L/PJ/7/293, Telegram from the Chief Secretary to the Government of the United Provinces to the Secretary of State of India, 12 November 1932. File No. 151/1930, (14 June 1930), letter from Commissioner of Meerut division to Jagdish Prasad, Chief Secretary to the Government. File No. 151/1930, Police Department, letter from Commissioner of Meerut division to Kunwar Jagdish Prasad, Secretary to the Government of the United Provinces (Report on Dehradun). Urmila Devi was born in 1909 in Kashmir into a wealthy Arya Samaj family. Her sister Satyavati Devi was active in nationalist work in Bombay, and married Dharmendra Nathji Shastri after being inspired by his speech on khadi in Kashmir. After her marriage she came to Meerut. She was educated till vernacular middle and taught at Kanya Gurukul in Dehradun and in Gurukul Vishav Vidyalay in Vrindavan. Interview with Satya Saxena. It is also important to point that the same symbolism was used in the post-colonial context, such as in the Hindu-Muslim riots of 1992–93. Bangles offered by Hindu women to their men was symbolic of their lack of trust in their own men against Muslim aggression, as well signifying femininity, which in this particular historical context was associated with weakness (Banerjee 2003: 7). P.W. Marsh, Commissioner of Meerut, to Government of UP, May 1932, Home Pol., File No. 14/28, Letter D.O. No. 70/C from Collector’s Office, Fatehpur, 6 June 1930, Police Department, File No. 151/1930, 4 June 1930, Lucknow Archives, Criminal Investigation Department. Transcript of interview with Lakshmi Devi Dixit, daughter of Narayani Tripathi. File No. 151/1930, Police Department, Correspondence from Commissioner of Meerut Division to Kunwar Jagdish Prasad, Secretary to the Government of the United Provinces. File No. 151/1930, 6 June 1930, Police Department, Correspondence between P. W. Marsh, ICS, Collector, Aligarh to the Commissioner of Agra division.

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File No. 151/1930, 12 June 1930, letter from P. Mason, ICS Superintendent, Dehradun, to the Commissioner of Meerut Division. Letter from P. W. Marsh, ICS, Collector, Aligarh, to the Commissioner, Agra division, Police Abstract of Intelligence, Allahabad, Saturday, 15 February 1930, Vol. XLVIII, No. 6. File No. 151/1930, letter from Drefus to Maqbul Husain, Commissioner of Benares division. When Gandhi was arrested on 7 May 1930, Ahmad Khan Sherwani, in a speech said that ‘Indians of all schools of thought, the future of the country depends on the present unity and unanimity among the people’. Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Vol. XLVIII, Allahabad, 1 February 1930, No. 4, Criminal Investigation Department. In Bareilly, in an official file titled ‘Hindu Affairs’, on 8 December 1930 a meeting was held in village Etawah where Dori Lal, Devi Datt, Har Prasad and Parmeshwar Sahai spoke in strong terms about Mohammedans and their religion. Har Prasad asserted that the Mohammedan religion was false and recommended Hindus to marry the daughters of Muslims and convert them, and that each conversion meant that the lives of a hundred cows were saved. In Sitapur at an Arya Samaj conference the speakers referred to the impossibility of there ever being unity between Hindus and Muslims. Transcript of interview with Manavati Arya. Transcript of interview with Narayani Ammal from Kollangode in Kerala. Transcript of interview with Sushila Devi Misra. She was a Brahmin, born in 1911 in Bhadpur village of Itawah district. She was married to Brahmdutt Misra at the age of 14. She was influenced by revolutionary ideology and along with her husband supported the movement. She participated in clandestine activities in the domestic sphere. Transcripts of interviews with Sridevi Tewari and Uma Dixit. Satyagraha Samachar was published daily by the Abhudaya Press in Prayag, Allahabad, and its publisher was Baij Nath Kapur. Home Pol., File No. 106/1930, Lucknow State Archives, ‘Demanding Security from the Satyagraha Samachar’. Home Pol., 1932, File No. 5/46/1932, National Archives of India, weekly telegraphic reports from local governments and administration on the situation arising out of the civil disobedience movement. Bhagat Singh was to avenge Lajpat Rai’s death in December of 1928. The Leader, 24 March 1928, p. 10. At Ambehra in Bijnor district a man was dressed in European clothes and taken around in a procession before finally being turned out of the village. Text of the ‘Pledge of Independence’ as taken by the people of India on the day of Purna Swaraj on 26 January 1930. Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Vol. XLIX, Saturday, 20 June 1931, No. 24.

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Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Vol. XLVIII, Allahabad, 1 February 1930, No. 4, CID (Criminal Investigation Department). Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Vol. XLIX, Saturday, 25 April 1931, No. 16. Sarkar (1984) discusses three social groups under the category of the subaltern, the tribal and low-caste agricultural labourer, and the land-holding peasant, generally of intermediate caste status and labour in plantations, mines and industries. Luisa Passerini (1990) has shown that women who belonged to Leftist organisations such as the Red Brigade and Prima Linea in Italy during the 1970s and 1980s relied on a ‘shared imaginary’ when they realised that their goals were unattainable and faced the reality of a hopeless revolution. ‘Foiled in their hopes of making history and creating an ideal future, (they) seized on a common imaginary world to sustain their choice of action’ (p. 55). ‘The Colours of Freedom’ by N. Ramdas Iyer, guest column in the Times of India, Lucknow, 25 March 1997. The Act followed the third round table conference in London in November 1932. ‘Aruna living in a humble one-room apartment belongs to a generation that has all but disappeared from the Indian political scene. Born in 1909, Aruna Ganguli was the daughter of a Bengal hotelier settled in Nainital. However, he worked as a journalist for some time in Lahore where Aruna had her education at the Convent of Sacred Heart. At 19, barely out of school, the man she chose was Asaf Ali, a Delhi lawyer and a Congressman, 20 years her senior, cutting short her education. She married him in the face of stiff opposition from the family and that probably showed in her the first streak of rebellion’ (TOI, Lucknow, 24 March 1992, p. 3). People who said in speeches that ‘the revolution like that in Ireland will follow and the English would be obliged to leave India in disgrace’ cited Major Graham Pole, Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Vol. XLVIII, Allahabad, 1 February 1930, No. 4, Criminal Investigation Department. During the Irish War of Independence, branches of the Republican women’s organisation, the Cumann na mBan, became affiliated to units of the Irish Republican Army and became ‘an army of women’ (Ward 1989: 163). Originally formed in 1914, the Cumann na mBan or Women’s Council had established over 800 branches by 1921 (Conlon 1969), and was estimated to have had in excess of 3,000 members (Ward 1989). It has been argued that men who had played an important role in organising the communist movement in the Hindi region also supported the women’s movement (Talwar 1989: 223).

Three: Private Values and Public Lives 94 95 96 97 98

99

139

Police Abstract of Intelligence, Allahabad, Saturday, 15 February 1930, Vol. XLVIII, No. 6. Transcript of interview with Narayani Tripathi. Transcript of interview with Dr Bhawani Shankar Joshi. Transcript of interview with Manavati Arya. Raj Kumari Gupta was born in Banda zilla, Kanpur, in 1902. Her father was a grocerer and her mother was in purdah. She was married at the age of 13 to the late Madan Mohan Gupta. He was a revolutionary but also participated in Congress activities. Hindustan Times, 22 April 1931, p. 5, and ABP, 5 May 1931, p. 10. There is a reference to Radha Debi owning two houses, one at Kalichpura and one at Bhilupura in Benares.

Chapter 4

THE COLONIAL PRISON

A

SIGNIFICANT ASPECT OF women’s contribution to the nationalist movement in UP—the Hindi-speaking heartland of Bharat (India), and the intellectual hub of northern India—was the imprisonment of women satyagrahis. The British authorities saw sending male and female activists to jail as a deterrent, something which would inhibit further nationalist participation. They were as keen to arrest local and national Congress Party leaders as revolutionaries involved in sabotage and espionage against the state. There are very few accounts which talk in detail about the dynamics within the prison at that time, the issues of classification of prisoners and the reaction of women to their own imprisonment.1 By the 1930s it was becoming clear to the British that apart from ‘colonising’ the mind, it would be necessary to ‘colonise the body’ to protect their rule. David Arnold has argued that the ‘colonisation of the body’ was associated with, first, a ‘physical incorporation’ by which the colonised were brought under various systems of discipline and control; and second, a process of ‘ideological or discursive incorporation’ effected through texts, discourses and institutional rules, and which concerned themselves with the physical being of the colonised’ and which used the ‘body as a site for the construction of colonial authority and for the interrogation of indigenous society and culture’ (Arnold 1994: 159). The colonised body stood as both a site of construction of colonial authority as well as contestation of that very power, hunger strikes being the best example of contestation. In response to Gandhi’s civil disobedience initiative in 1932, the provinces of Bihar and Orissa, United Provinces, Bombay and Bengal actively participated. Young students, Congress leaders, agriculturalists, petty tenants and labourers responded to Gandhi’s call. A high proportion

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of men and women were charged and sent to prison. The conviction of Muslims in the Frontier Provinces was noteworthy though it was limited in UP, Bihar, Delhi and Bombay. Women’s participation and convictions during this period was significant, particularly in Bombay and United Provinces (Brown 1977: 292). The British administrators in the provinces also commented that there were a ‘large proportion of hirelings, known “criminals” cashing in on the Congress ticket, or people glad of jail food’ (ibid.). Women political prisoners were mainly from the middle classes and most of them had stepped out onto the streets for the first time. It was a challenge for these women who had led secluded lives in purdah. The Hindi magazine Chand2 talked about the ‘heavenly sight’ of women stepping into the public space and courting arrest: Our readers would be surprised to know that the number of women who have gone to jail for taking part in the freedom movement is maximum in Bengal. In other purdah-ridden states of Delhi, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and the Central Provinces, women have not shown less bravery and strength. Now all those people who opposed education for women and who spoke against their liberation can gain some lessons from this heavenly sight.3

The time spent in jails was filled with ambiguities and dilemmas, and trials and tribulations for these women. However, they showed remarkable qualities of steadfastness of purpose, strength of will and fortitude in the face of adversity. They emerged as determined individuals in their own right with a strong nationalist consciousness, capable of becoming a force to be reckoned with. The specific dynamics of the jail encouraged women who were brought under one roof to build support networks. Women shared similar experiences while fighting for the same nationalist cause, and, within the prison, these women had the representatives of colonial power (such as governors, wardens and matrons) as a common enemy. Solidarity between the political prisoners was thus forged on the basis of a shared gender, a common political history and a collective opposition to colonial rule. Comparisons and similarities can be drawn with experiences of women political prisoners in other parts of the world such as England, South Africa and Egypt from the first decade of the 20th century (see Thapar-Björkert 1998). Some literature (Forbes 1988; Engels 1989; Pearson 1981; Rao 1994) have specifically documented women being arrested, being sent to jail,

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the unsatisfactory conditions in jails and women prisoners’ experiences. The memoirs of Vijaylakshmi Pandit (1979) and Krishna Hutheesing (1946) give us important insights into the experience of ‘elite women’ in jails, though their experience was different from other narratives. Aparna Basu (1976) describes the conditions within the jails as being: … dark, dingy places with damp air, musty smell and bats hanging from the ceilings. The food for ordinary prisoners was inedible. Policemen sometimes poked fun or jeered at women prisoners. There were no bathrooms in the cells and women prisoners much to their embarrassment were sent to toilets accompanied by male ‘guards’. It must be remembered that these young girls spent the best years of their youth in prison (Basu 1976: 39).

The prison was another political site where the segregation of men and women, characteristic of the domestic sphere, was reinforced in the public sphere. It became a temporary residence for many women activists, replacing for the time being the domestic family home. Moreover, one of the reasons why it was easier for these purdah-clad women to cope with prison life was because imprisoned women often came from large jointfamily households and carried over domestic functions such as giving moral support to other women, participating in discussions and disseminating information and sharing a communal space. For these women, the prison (normally associated with the public sphere) shared similarities with their normal domestic environment although the dynamics were different. They resisted colonial rule through nationalist activities from within the domestic sphere (such as spinning and weaving) as they did through their imprisonment and their activities within the prison (such as writing poetry). Women’s consciousness burgeoned and the prison became a site where personal and political identities were continuously shaped and re-structured. The feelings of resentment towards British rule and the pride and honour of working towards an independent India were continuously sharpened. The British attitude towards men and women protestors differed. In the initial years of the movement, from 1925 until the 1930s, the British police feared the political impact of any misbehaviour by their men towards Indian women (Agnew 1979: 41).4 The fear of the political repercussions of insulting the ‘sacred’ Indian womanhood5 affected their attitudes as well as their actions. Women satyagrahis were

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Figure 4.1

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Vijay Devi Rathore of Farrukhabad, Uttar Pradesh

Born in 1911 in Itawah. She was encouraged by her mother (but not her father) to participate in the movement. Married at the age of 16 years to Raghuraj Singh, she was arrested a couple of times and imprisoned in Farrukhabad and Fatehgarh jails.

aware of the symbolic power of ‘purity’, ‘sacredness’ and ‘respectability’ attached to their womanhood as well as their exalted status similar to goddesses such as Sita and Savitri. Vijay Devi Rathore of Farrukhabad (Figure 4.1) recalled an angry confrontation with the British police during which she had shouted: ‘Go away or stay at a distance from me. Don’t dare to touch me. If you ever touch me, it will be the worst mistake you will make and things will become bad’.6 The police did not dare harm her in any way but arrested her. The police were aware that ‘any form of perceived “molestation” of “respectable” women engaged in nationalist activities would make the crowds explode in violence’ (Forbes 1988: 82).7 Consequently, in the initial stages of the movement, limited action was taken by the authorities to deter nationalist activities. Imposition

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Table 4.1 Number of Arrests under Ordinary Law and Ordinance since the resumption of Civil Disobedience (December 1931–January 1932) Province Madras Bombay Bengal UP Punjab Central Provinces Assam NWFP Delhi Coorg Ajmer Total

A Ordinary Law

B Ordinances

381 796 – – 101 53 27 2,599 189 8 55 3,032

79 884 – – 95 218 9 2,625 38 – – 2,985

Ordinary Law and Ordinances 59 – – 3,150 (A+B) – – – – – – – 3,209

Total 519 1,680 – 3,150 196 271 36 5,224 227 8 55 9,167

Source: Home Department, National Archives of India, File No. 5/29/1932.

of fines was seen as a sufficient deterrent to nationalist activity. Alternatively, they would ‘beat half the congregation and then leave them. Instead of arresting the satyagrahis (protesters) they would give them lathi (stick) blows or injure them badly. If all the men and women were put behind bars, then the number of people in jails would be two lakh’.8 It was impossible to accommodate such large numbers of men and women behind bars (Table 4.1). The British records demonstrate that there were fewer convictions than those established by the AICC. In other instances, if police beatings did not successfully deter them, then the protesters were arrested (Figure 4.2) and later left on the streets. In a particular instance in Agra city, … under the leadership of the dictator9 Shri Manohar Lal, they went to the kotwali (police station) and asked the officials out there to return the articles (personal belongings, salt) confiscated from the satyagrahis during the day. The police refused to give them back and the protesters then lay in front of the gates of the kotwali. They were lathi-charged and Parvati Devi and Sukhdevi Paliwal were injured, but still remained fixed in their positions. All the satyagrahis who were arrested were left in Akola village outside the city, from where they had to walk back.10

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Figure 4.2

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Jail Certificate of Vijay Devi

Prepared for those who were arrested frequently. Normally, a fine was imposed and women were bailed out by their families. But those undeterred were arrested and imprisoned for periods ranging from three months to one year.

However, every action by the British authorities was given wide publicity by the newspapers. For example, a newspaper which was banned carried an article entitled ‘The Government’s Lathi’. This article stated how the government had … adopted the policy of beating with lathis and at every place it causes lathi charges to be made. We wonder very much how this government, which boasts of being civilised, can practice such barbarity. Is this what is called civilisation? At one place it proclaims martial law, at another it orders firing or punishes little children and women with lathis. We are only inclined to think that the saying ‘One’s intelligence becomes perverse when the end approaches’ is being illustrated. We go on peacefully enduring the atrocities of this tyrannical and demonic government.11

Through wide coverage in the media and reporting the bad treatment of women by the police the nationalists were able to arouse the feelings of Indian people against colonial rule (Kaur 1968: 180; Pearson 1981: 176). Women’s bodies represented the ‘purity of the nation … representative

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of the collective national body and attacks on women became an attack on the nation, a violation of national boundaries, a violation of national autonomy and national sovereignty’ (Mayer 2000: 18). Some of these criticisms of the British Government were taken on board when in 1932, the Public Department of the Government of Madras issued a confidential report which urged that the use of lathis should be avoided when dealing with large gatherings of women. Instead, an alternative method of using water hoses was suggested. These water hoses sprayed sewage on the women demonstrators (Viswesaran 1996: 96). The changing nature of legislation in relation to the treatment of women satyagrahis ‘exemplified the extent to which women’s bodies became nationalist signifiers’ (Government Orders 2121 dated 28 May 1932, cited in ibid.: 99). However, the British authorities were to soon realise that they could not enforce law and order without arresting both men and women activists (Moraes 1958). In her memoirs, Krishna Nehru Hutheesing, one of Nehru’s sisters, wrote about how ‘for weeks they had joined in processions, attended meetings and braved lathi charges. At last the mighty government considering them to be too dangerous and a menace to the public peace had issued warrants for their arrests’ (Hutheesing 1946: 25). The authorities also believed that the fear of being locked in jail for an indefinite period would stop people from joining the movement. There was also anxiety among the British officials that the Congress was exploiting British hesitancy to arrest Indian women (to the Congress’ advantage). The Secretary to the Government of India stated that: It is a distasteful task for the government and its officers to take action against women in connection with the movement, and especially against women of good family. On the other hand the Congress has followed as part of their policy the use of women and have laid great stress on bringing them in the firing line. One of their purposes is undoubtedly to create feelings against government because of the action the latter have to take against them. On grounds of humanity the officers of government may be expected to exercise great restraint in dealing with women but it must be recognised that the latter cannot be immune from the consequences of their actions and they must be dealt with under the law.12

It would not be incorrect to suggest that the deployment of women in certain categories of the agitation was a deliberate part of Congress

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strategy as this was expected to reduce the intensity of police repression, especially in the case of respectable middle-class urban women (Sarkar 1984: 97). ‘Government officials hesitated to take stern action against women and children offering satyagraha for fear of criticism’ (Sinha 1994: 166). The British authorities were as keen to arrest local and national Congress leaders as they were to apprehend the revolutionaries involved in sabotage and espionage against the state. However, the issue of arrest and imprisonment of women satyagrahis generated disfavour in the British Parliament, and Lord Irwin, who served as the Viceroy to India, commented that: The delay in the release of many thousands of men may for some reason or the other be explainable, but the detention of ladies in jail is indefensible. They are certainly less dangerous to the public peace. Besides a certain sentiment attaches to members of the fair sex and public opinion cannot take any advances on the part of the government seriously, unless a real gesture is made in this direction. In fact if the authorities wanted to create an atmosphere of goodwill, they should have released the ladies even before they released Mahatma Gandhi.13

This comment by Lord Irwin is surprising, since in Britain before World War I the suffragettes were hauled into jails and ill treated.14 In Britain, Ellen Wilkinson, a female British Member of Parliament, campaigned against the idea of women, especially mothers with babies, serving jail sentences, and made a couple of appeals to the Home Secretary for the release of mothers from English jails. She firmly believed in personal liberty and worked for women’s interests.15 She advocated ‘compassionate treatment of families by the courts, was equally outraged when a mother who stole had been sent to prison with her baby and even intervened over the dress of female prisoners, the form of which, she claimed, perpetuated the ideas of sixty years ago’.16 In 1932 she visited India along with Krishna Menon and Monica Whatley on an invitation from the India League of London as part of a committee to inspect jails. She investigated the conditions of Indian jails and, on her return to Manchester, presented a report on the ‘repressive measures taken against Congress supporters which her delegation had observed’ (Vernon 1982: 107). The delegation found ‘substantial evidence of violence … women had been sexually abused, beaten, raped’ (Forbes 1998: 153).

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What made matters more difficult was the lack of women police and separate women’s prisons. Till then those sent to prison had been male or female convicts from the lower classes. Consequently, it had not been seen to be necessary to have a separate women’s wing of the police force. Whenever women were arrested, Congressmen would accompany them as escorts to the jail so that the policemen would not touch their mothers, wives and daughters. In one particular instance, a respondent refused to be arrested. She stated: The police came looking for our family members. I had made my mother leave earlier. I was left alone and to protect myself, I brought out my father’s revolver. I told the police that I was willing to be arrested, but only when my father returned.17

REASONS

FOR

ARRESTS

Women were arrested by the custodians of law and order for any form of nationalist activity. They could be detained in prison for periods ranging from a day to a year. On the other hand men would be given a heavier sentence for comparable offences. About a quarter of the women respondents went to jail for up to one year while a very small number served two sentences. The menfolk were informed when women were arrested, and on almost all occasions a prominent Congress leader was present on the day the imprisoned women were released. This was primarily to pay their fines and to bail them out, as well to play the role of a guardian.18 Arrests were made for leading processions, holding meetings and delivering provocative speeches against colonial rule. Arrests were also made for picketing, staging boycotts, distributing proscribed literature or raising nationalist flags on government buildings.19 Arrests could be made both in accordance with ordinary law and the law of ordinances, which were instituted by the colonial government (see Table 4.2). Defiance of ordinary law was committed when processions were led or meetings were held. The emergency ordinance enabled the police and the military to arrest those associated with terrorist activities. The standard action was that the satyagrahis were fined by the police for breaking the law. The choice for the satyagrahis was to either pay the

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Ordinances Passed in 1930

• The Bengal Criminal Law Amendment Ordinance (April 1930) The Bengal government has the right to search without a warrant and to give any official indefinite imprisonment. • The Press Ordinance (April 1930) Banned all nationalist newspapers. Independent viewpoint in the newspapers was stopped. • The Lahore Conspiracy Case Ordinance (May 1930) All those responsible in this case were handed to a special court of justice so that they could not appeal to the High Court. • Unlawful Instigation Ordinance and Prevention of Intimidation Ordinance (May 1930) Arrests were made of people who instigated other people not to give taxes. It also curbed the non-violent picketing and dharnas at liquor and toddy shops and social boycott of government officials who commit various atrocities. • Unauthorised New Sheets and Newspapers Ordinance (July 1930) Unregistered pamphlets published were declared unlawful. • Martial Law Ordinance (August 1930) The British government could declare martial law whenever it wanted. • Unlawful Association Ordinance (October 1930) The government had unrestrained rights to confiscate, houses, wealth, possession of all those associations which they considered unlawful without the benefit of a court case. Source: Editorial, Chand, November 1930, pp. 2–4.

fine or be arrested. In some instances, if the satyagrahis did not stop their activities after paying their first fine, on the second occasion they had to pay a fine as well as serve a sentence. Sometimes if the activists were not arrested immediately, the police would go searching for them and later seal their houses. This was known as kurki, under which, depending on the nature of offence, the family had to pay a monetary fine. In many instances the doors of the houses were broken, family crops set alight and domestic animals auctioned.20 Even if the family had only one politically active member, the actions of the police affected the entire family. This explains why a male activist would sometimes be asked to leave his father’s house if he was taking part in

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the nationalist movement. Government officials discouraged any form of nationalist activity in their families. For instance, a participant whose father-in-law was employed by the Imperial Dock Company explained that if she or her husband had had any involvement with the movement, then the father-in-law would have certainly lost his government job. Her husband corroborated this, and went on to say: An ordinary middle-class man always had the fear of earning a livelihood. So one was scared of participating. In the service middle class, if one earning member was imprisoned or killed, there would be a calamity in their house.21

Some extended families, particularly in-laws, disowned their daughterin-laws if they were associated with the nationalist, and particularly revolutionary, activities. Raj Kumari Gupta’s in-laws went to the extent of publishing a disclaimer in the local newspaper Vir Bharat that ‘we have no relationship with her’.22

COURTING ARREST The act of courting arrest was an identifiable characteristic of the demonstrations by Indian women. ‘Courting’ means ‘to behave as though trying to provoke something harmful’.23 An activist from the Nehru household explains one such scene of courting arrest in Allahabad: Processions grew larger and larger as they proceeded through the town to the prohibited area. Here we were faced with the police and military, halted and asked to return. At this point we would sit down in orderly rows on the street, shouting slogans and singing national songs at the top of our voices. This situation sometimes went on for hours. Finally, arrests of the leader with a couple of hundred others followed, and the procession dispersed for the day (Pandit 1979: 101).

There were similar incidents in other states in India. For example, Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay was arrested for breaking the salt law in Dharsana district of Maharashtra. She intentionally sat with her volunteers on the road and refused to move. The police finally arrested her (Agnew 1979: 41). Women satyagrahis shared a feeling of cohesiveness because they were never alone—even when arrested.

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The British authorities were forced to make mass arrests and groups of women had to be placed together in the same barracks. On certain occasions the classification between prisoners was blurred in order to provide accommodation for the masses arrested. An important feature of courting arrest was to mentally prepare women beforehand to enter the jails. This was achieved through public speeches and the flooding of vernacular literature with appeals in the form of prose and poetry.24 The nationalist press and printed material played a vital part in the dissemination of nationalist propaganda (Mitra 1988: 160). In particular, Hindi newspapers such as Aaj25 and Vartman (later called Mansukha) from Kashi (Benares), and Abhyudaya from Allahabad circulated information of nationalist significance. Appeals were made both to women to prepare themselves for jail and to the Indian men to leave the British police force. In order to bolster the confidence of the women references were made to places of imprisonment in Indian mythology. While addressing a gathering of women in Allahabad, Mrs Motilal Nehru stated: ‘Jails are holy places as Lord Krishna was also born in jail’. Such an argument was put forward while appealing to women citizens to come out of purdah (confinement) and get ready for the jails.26 An anonymous poem in a proscribed pamphlet compiled by Govindram Gupta and published by Lala Sawaldam in Bukselar read: Together we shall say, Bande Matram Women, lift the flag of your nation And let us march together The enemy will tremble with our slogans Stop the sale of foreign cloth Let us sit on a dharna together Stop the sale of liquor Let us picket together The men have worn bangles So let them sit at home, day and night But you should be pleased to wear hathkadi Let us go to the jail together27

The poem exhorts women to participate in nationalist activities from leading processions to picketing. Sitting on a dharna (silent protest) is significant because women would sit for hours outside

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shops, hindering sales and obstructing the authorities. Eventually, this behaviour would lead to their arrest. The masculinity of Indian men is also questioned, and to wear ‘bangles’ signifies that men have adopted feminine traits. In Indian mythology when men are projected as weak, women adorn supportive as well as militant roles. For example, the Indian god Rama always invokes the goddess Durga when in need. In a welcoming speech at a political conference in Benares, Srimati Gangadevi specified the repressive measures adopted by the British government, especially the ordinances. However, her speech encouraged volunteers to continue with their nationalist activities on the ‘path of satyagraha (struggle) and ahimsa (non-violence)’. The struggle that has encompassed our nation has led many brothers and sisters to go to the jail. Over 1,500 countrymen, with the purpose to liberate their motherland, have broken the laws of this government and have been imprisoned. If we also perish while getting rid of this government then we will also consider ourselves blessed and privileged. Our goal is complete independence and it is our birthright. The government cannot suppress our movement with bullets, lathis (sticks) and jails. In this nation, because of Gandhi’s efforts, the feeling of self-pride has been generated. Now the present government cannot exercise its unlawful rule. I hope that we should be able to go to the jail in large numbers.28

The main aim of appeals to the police force was to incite the protective or caring sentiments of men towards their sisters and mothers. This protection of women by men is an important feature of Indian culture. An extract from a proscribed publication reveals the feelings of an activist, Indumati Goyanka, towards the atrocities committed by the police force: The present condition of the nation is not hidden from you and the government, horrified with Gandhi’s andolan (movement), is trying to suppress it. The same woman who was worshipped like a goddess in our culture is being assaulted by the government. For example, in Bengal, heinous crimes were committed on our womenfolk. Mothers and sisters were stripped naked and beaten and their private parts violated. One thing is certain. The last days of this regime are drawing closer. Where the government has raised hands at womankind, in that nation it cannot survive. If you resign from your jobs, then our struggle will be successful. The British cannot win without your help. We cannot tolerate you beating up your countrymen. We are your sisters and born on the same soil. We pray

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to you that you should not help this government and if you do, then at least you can refrain from beating up your brothers and sisters.29

This appeal was in ‘one of the leaflets which were secretly printed and circulated in various districts to celebrate events like National Week’.30 The act of courting arrest was different from the experiences of imprisoned women in other parts of the world. For example, during the apartheid regime in the 1960s in South Africa, arrest and indefinite confinement was practised on politically active men and women. Arrests could be made on the grounds of suspicion alone, without a warrant or a charge. The experience of Ruth First, a journalist in South Africa, provides an understanding of the mechanics of police machinery. She was held in the women’s cells of Marshall Square, under the Ninety-Day Law, in solitary confinement. It puzzled her whether she: … was being held by the Security Branch not for interrogation at all, but because police investigations had led to me and I was being held in preparation for prosecution and to prevent me from getting away before the police were ready to swoop with a charge (First 1982: 14).

The above statement reflects the uncertainty that is faced by an imprisoned woman who is aware of the nature of her activities, but who also avoids arrest in order to be able to pursue her political activities. Unlike the Indian satyagrahis who were first charged for an offence, tried in court and then sentenced, Ruth First was neither mentally prepared, nor did she provoke an arrest. Similarly, Nawal el Sa’adawi, a political writer in Egypt, mentions in her memoirs that she was not even informed by the police that she was being led to prison (Sa’adawi 1986: 50). She was held in prison under the Precautionary Detention Order,31 and in a confrontation with one of the senior jail officials she argued: We’ve been here for days, for weeks, and no one has begun any investigative procedures with us. Not one of us knows what the charges are against her. They invaded our homes by armed force without warrants from the Chief Prosecutor and to this day our families don’t know anything about our circumstances (ibid.: 53).

The above situation was different from the Indian social scene where the families not only knew the whereabouts of women prisoners, but also

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escorted them to prison. Moreover, women satyagrahis shared the feeling of togetherness because they were never alone—even when arrested.

CLASSIFICATION

IN

JAILS

In a mixed jail, men and women were completely segregated. Otherwise, there were separate jails for men and women. In UP, near the Fategarh District Jail was the Women’s Central Jail, the only women’s jail where all categories of women prisoners were kept. The age of the women prisoners varied from adults and teenage girls to small babies who were with their mothers. The classification of prisoners within the jail was implemented through government statute. In regard to the classification of women prisoners, government is not aware of any instance in which the accepted principles are not followed. Those principles have reference to social status and education but not sex.32

A distinction was made between political prisoners and convicts according to the nature of offence as well as the class background of the offender. Convicts were arrested for criminal charges and were from the lower classes, while the ‘politicals’ were arrested for participating in the nationalist movement and were generally from the middle classes. The convicts were classified as being lower than the political prisoners and had to undergo more hardships in jail. We can get a general picture of life within the jail from the recollections of a political prisoner. She described the situation every Monday when the superintendent of the jail came to the women’s prison for inspection: All the convicts had to wear their clean pair of spare clothes used only for such occasions and squat on the ground with bent heads; their iron plates shining brightly were held in front of them. Their whole attitude had to be one of servility and cringing, to make them feel that they were the lowest of God’s creatures. If anyone of them sat a little erect or refused to adopt a cringing attitude, the matron’s cane came down upon them (Hutheesing 1946: 30).

The convicts were placed in a ‘C’ class while the political prisoners were assigned the ‘A’ or ‘B’ class. The ‘A’ class was the best according to one activist’s recollection:

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I was given ‘A’ class. In those days there was a distinction between ordinary prisoners and political prisoners. I was given one single ward. I had one sweeper (a lady to clean her daily ablutions), one lady warden and other ordinary prisoners used to come and do my work (source: transcript of interview with Rama Devi Chaudhuri).

The ‘C’ class prisoners were women who were imprisoned for criminal activities like theft, murder or fraud, as opposed to the political prisoners who were in jail for activities related to the nationalist movement. The male and female leaders of the movement were assigned the ‘A’ class. The main criterion of classification was one’s social and economic situation, and ‘sometimes a university degree was considered’ (Pandit 1979: 103). Only the elite fulfilled these requirements and were assigned the ‘A’ class. Vijaylakshmi Pandit comments on her prison experiences: The magistrate who tried us was new to the town and extremely nervous. My sister and I, because we had the Nehru name, were an embarrassment and a problem to the poor man. He wanted to give us every advantage. We had a social position and, he presumed, a suitable bank balance. The magistrate entered his comments as follows, ‘recommend for privileges of class “A” as, besides having a high social position, they are probably graduates of a foreign university’ (ibid.).

The terms and conditions set for prisoners could vary with individual jail systems. For example, an activist from the elite Nehru household imprisoned in Naini Jail, near Allahabad, was asked by the jail doctor whether she would prefer to move up to the ‘A’ class. In this class she would be allowed to wear her own clothes, be entitled to books and also given a daily allowance of twelve annas (ibid.: 165). In general, political prisoners received slightly better treatment than the other prisoners. This can be seen from a matron’s reaction in Sultanpur to a threat from an inmate: Inmate: I am not one of your wretched convicts to be used at your sweet will and pleasure. I am a political prisoner and you must not touch me. Matron: You think you are too high and mighty for me because you are a political? (Hutheesing 1946: 40).

Sometimes ordinary prisoners had to render their services to the political prisoners at the matron’s behest. The ‘B’ class was for ordinary

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middle-class citizens and the ‘C’ class was specifically for convicts, labourers and peasants.33 Revolutionaries were often assigned the ‘C’ class or subjected to solitary confinement. Solitary confinement and separating individuals in the prison ‘community’ was part of the vision of the utilitarian thought and Benthamite panoptican plan34 (Arnold 1994: 162). The social hierarchy of Indian society was reflected in the colonial prison. Caste differences were maintained within the prison in the same way they were adhered to outside the prison. Similarly, in the Barrages women’s prison in Egypt, Nawal el Sa’adawi mentions how their ‘political cell’ was separated from the ‘mothers cell’, which comprised women who had been imprisoned for theft, prostitution, begging and drugs. Also, the ‘political ward’ in which she was kept, was cleaned by women inmates from the prostitution section (Sa’adawi 1986: 49). In early 20th century England, the suffragettes in Holloway gaol were similarly segregated from women of the criminal classes. They were placed in different cellblocks and not allowed to mix during communal activities such as chapel services and physical exercise. A strict hierarchy was enforced and women from the third division cleaned the cells of other prisoners, who for various reasons were exempt from doing so (Purvis 1995: 109–10). In England, Emmeline Pankhurst, the suffragette and leader of the Militant Women’s Social and Political Union, mentions the privileges of being placed in the ‘first division’ along with Emmeline Pethick Lawrence. They … furnish(ed) (their) cells with comfortable chairs, tables, our own bedding towels. We had meals sent in from the outside; we wore our own clothing and had what books, newspapers and writing material we required (Pankhurst 1914: 251).

However, as the Indian nationalist movement progressed and women courted arrest in large numbers, the authorities were forced to blur the classifications because of space constraints: At a later stage in the movement, when the numbers of persons courting imprisonment had increased beyond the expectations of the authorities, they were herded indiscriminately with ordinary convicts (Pandit 1979: 103).

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At times this practice was not looked upon favourably by the women ‘politicals’ and there were protests and demonstrations to oppose political prisoners being placed in the ‘C’ class.35

UNDERSTANDING PRISON DYNAMICS The imprisoned women were completely isolated from the rest of society, and the jail represented their home, a domestic space within the public domain. Fahey locates ‘internal gradations of privacy’ within the private sphere and ‘numerous zones of privacy embedded within the public sphere’ (Fahey 1995: 690). The prison was a site where segregation between men and women was reinforced in the public domain. In prison women led secluded lives just as they had in their homes, and to some extent this explains how it was possible for these purdah-clad women to enter the public domain. Life in prison featured segregation at two levels. First, the inmates had no contact with the outside world beyond the four walls of their cells. The prisoners were allowed limited access to letters that were written to them by their friends and family, who were either themselves serving jail sentences or participating in nationalist activities in the public and domestic spheres. The letters had to be restricted to personal matters and did not contain any information of political significance. An inmate referred to the letters as the ‘only bright spots of jail life that came once a fortnight and interviews that could also be had once a fortnight’ (Hutheesing 1946: 28). The inmates did not have access to any other sources of information. They were not allowed to read any national or local newspapers. A sympathetic jail matron would sometimes smuggle a newspaper inside for the prisoners to read, but often the newspaper was a fortnight or a month old (ibid.). Second, women were segregated from men, as they would have been in their conservative purdah-practising households. Their segregation was sometimes broken when British male administrators visited the jail to ask these women questions about their activities and the whereabouts of their friends and family members who were participating in the nationalist movement. Otherwise, women came in contact only with other women prisoners. At times even that access was

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denied, and some women were placed in solitary confinement. Sharing the same environment of segregation and seclusion made women rely on each other for support and solidarity. They developed strong feelings of sisterhood, evident from their shared hunger strikes, boycotts and mutual emotional support. The other woman prisoners became the sole reference points. They developed strong feelings of sisterhood, and Sa’adawi commented that a ‘decent person cannot possibly forget the companionship of prison’ (Sa’adawi 1986: 70; Harlow 1986: 513–15). Women’s experiences in jail can be placed into two categories: the prison as a site of humiliation and separation from family, and the prison as a site of female community and resistance. These experiences are personal and unique to these women respondents. However, some broad generalisations can be made from the common accounts of political prisoners. Through the imprisonment of political individuals, the colonial authorities tried to isolate them from the political scene, deter other individuals from joining the movement and, by humiliation, grind them down psychologically. Thus, prison existence brought difficulties upon the prisoners. They shared feelings of humiliation and sorrow, and were worried about their own adjustment to prison existence as well as those family members they had left behind. The vernacular literature acknowledges the courage of these women and numerous poems were written to both encourage other women to participate in the movement as well as enlighten the general populace on the difficulties of women in prison. In a poem titled ‘Bharat Ke Vartman Nariyan’ (The Present-day Indian woman) the poetess (Devi 1931: 809) comments: She who was called weak (abla) till now Has shown the world she is brave (sabla) The woman of India is now set to liberate her own country She is moving ahead of men And is busy in the service of her nation Soft (komal), a girl with good qualities (sukumari), and radiant like the moon (chandramukhi) Has turned to a raging bloodthirsty goddess (bhikala chandi) The women of the palaces are now Facing hardships in the jail We should sacrifice our bodies, mind and wealth for the service of our motherland (matrubhumi)

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Be liberated: sacrifice now This is what our sisters teach us

The poem is rich in nationalist imagery and exhorts other women to participate in the movement and court arrest. It also suggests that women were able to adapt and adhere to certain role models. For example, a woman from the domestic sphere with ‘softer’ virtues could also come out into the public sphere and take on the role of a ‘defender of civilisation’ (Thapar-Björkert 1998: 216). The male political prisoners shared similar experiences with their women ‘comrades’, though the atrocities carried out on the former were more severe. One of the reasons could be that in conventional patterns of thinking, men are seen as more dangerous even though women can be involved in more seditious activities. Men were segregated on the basis of their activities and association with political parties. Divisions were drawn between men associated with revolutionary activities and those who adhered to the Gandhian non-violent strategies. The former were kept in the ‘criminal ward’ and the latter in the ‘European ward’. When the Europeans were arrested they were kept in the European ward. When some of the prominent Congress leaders such as Nehru, Patel and Gandhi were arrested, they were also kept in the same ward. But no matter how important a revolutionary—he was kept in the criminal ward.36

Amongst the male political prisoners, the revolutionaries were treated most harshly. They were tortured physically by prison officers, either to extract information about other associates or simply to deter them from further activities. To combat this severity in their existence, the political prisoners like women prisoners developed networks of support which enabled them to tide over the difficult times.

Prison as a Site of Humiliation and Family Separation Even though the jail inmates were all women, power hierarchies were enforced between women who were a part of the British system (for example, the matrons and the wardens) and women who were citizens

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of a colonised nation (India) and who made their entry into the jail as political prisoners. Forms of humiliation were both physical and psychological. The prison was a site for imprisonment of the body.37 The Foucaultian understanding of bodies as sites where power is exercised is relevant to this discussion. Foucault argues that ‘power relations have an immediate hold upon it (bodies), they invest it, mark it, train it, torture it, force it to carry out tasks, to perform ceremonies, to emit signs’ (Foucault 1977: 25). The political prisoner could be body-searched without the prisoner’s consent by the superintendent or matron of the jail. One of the reasons for this inspection was to check for any hidden articles of food or clothing which the prisoners might have. Occasionally, in order to increase the feelings of humiliation, women who cleaned the jail courtyards and toilets were asked to inspect the prisoners. The former belonged to the untouchable castes, and it was sacrilegious for these women to touch women prisoners from the middle classes. For example, an inmate in Farrukhabad Jail was inspected by an untouchable woman on the instructions of the English matron. The inmate was having her periods, and stated: She inspected me and even saw the pad I was wearing. But instead of feeling shame I became very angry and said to the untouchable, ‘Have we committed a dacoity (robbery) that you are inspecting us?’38

The woman prisoner understood that the untouchable herself was in a difficult position and could not refuse to carry out the orders of the British representative of law and order. She said about the untouchable, ‘She was doing her duty. She had been ordered to do so’.39 There were also instances of a matron forcing herself on a young female prisoner. The matron would come and explore the body of the prisoner and if her actions were resisted, she physically tortured the prisoner with cane beatings. For example, one former political prisoner recollected: The matron’s coarse hands slipped down the young girl’s shoulders and passed over her full breasts while she cuddled up closer muttering words of endearment all the time. Chitra screamed, ‘Don’t touch me, you wicked woman. How can you be so evil?’ (Hutheesing 1946: 39).

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These examples speak about the powerlessness of these women and the consequent humiliation and discomfort which they suffered. Pregnant women were never imprisoned. There were exceptions to this rule, and this indicated the determination of politically active women to serve the nationalist cause. Mothers often left their young children with relatives or family friends. However, small infants accompanied their mothers to jail. Some mothers took their six-month-old infants to jail.40 A few women with young babies died in prison (ibid.: 42). An activist from Kanpur, Tara Devi Agarwal, was arrested under sections 126 and 129 of the British Penal Code and locked up in Lucknow Jail. She recollected, ‘Along with me was my one-year-old son, and he stayed with me throughout’ (Dainik Jagran, March 1972, p. 65). In one particular instance, the new-born child of an undertrial political prisoner, Sarla Debi, died in the prison. The injustice and tyranny of the government in arresting a pregnant woman was condemned by the whole society. Sarla Debi had been arrested on a warrant from Farrukhabad and confined in Cawnpore Jail for eighteen days. In a condolence meeting in Cawnpore presided over by Dr Hulas Rai, it was said: The government has lost humanity and chivalry. Why did the jail doctor not report the case to the civil surgeon? In jails one may be beaten to death and then declared as having died of pneumonia, but the neglect of the child was new. This kind of treatment will have to bring swaraj.41

A similar incident happened in Aligarh, where Ganga Devi was imprisoned for picketing and had to witness the death of her three-month-old son in jail (Saxena 1988: 7). In England, Ellen Wilkinson in general stirred discussions on imprisoned mothers, and she informed the press (Daily Herald, 2 September 1931) of the case of a mother of four young children who had been sentenced to three months imprisonment for attempting suicide. Her husband was unemployed and they had debts to pay off (Vernon 1982: 99). Wilkinson argued that the mother was in need of sympathetic help and ought not to be locked behind bars. Prison as a Site of Female Community and Resistance The jail was a social space in which women enjoyed some degree of freedom of expression and speech. Most of the women came from

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conservative purdah-practising households and, ironically, the jail could be an exhilarating experience for them. This was especially true for women who were jailed for a night or two and who did not suffer any severe deprivation. It was an opportunity for these women to be away from family pressures and a secluded lifestyle, if only for a night or two. For example, a participant who was arrested one night for hoisting the national flag had stated, ‘I still remember the taste of the chana’. Chana is like chickpeas, and quite hard to digest. What was important was the thrill and anticipation experienced by the participant in going to the jail and also her memories of the experience.42 She does not remember what the jail looked like, the conditions within the jail, or the rules and regulations to which all inmates had to adhere within the premises. She remembers the excitement that a night away from home generated inside her. In her memoirs Krishna Hutheesing recollects, ‘It was a new experience for all of them. The very novelty of it kept the girls’ spirits up, though the older people were more subdued (Hutheesing 1946: 25). Women were kept in barracks, with up to fifteen women from different zillas (districts) in one barrack. In the Allahabad District Jail, We were told to settle ourselves in a long room known as a barrack, with gratings in the wall at intervals of four feet. Through these gratings we looked onto a dreary yard with one gigantic banyan tree in the centre (Pandit 1979: 102).

Similarly, in the Lucknow Central Prison, in the barrack for class ‘A’ prisoners, women were: … packed in a space meant for half that many. The small iron beds were placed in rows facing each other with a narrow passage in between. We had a stool and a tin box containing a few articles of clothing allowed under the prison rules (ibid.: 104).

Although the jailer (usually an English woman) usually attempted to separate the women in order to keep them from talking and socialising, often the jail turned into a communal site. Respondents have narrated a range of experiences. For example, some respondents who were imprisoned talked together about the arguments they had with the jailer. The

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jailer insisted that they should use individual boxes to perform their morning ablutions and should not meet in the open grounds. These women insisted on going to the grounds in the morning since that was the time when they met everybody and talked. The same group of respondents mentioned how they harassed the jailer by calling her names: for example, ‘Lal muh valey bandar, tera nash ho!’ (red-faced monkey, may you perish!). The jailer finally removed the locks from their barracks.43 Sharing living space encouraged a feeling of collective struggle and solidarity against colonial rule, as it did in the domestic sphere. The networks of information and knowledge were used by both men and women to carve out spaces of resistance and negotiation (with the colonial authorities) within the walls of the prison, an institution of colonial power. Within this communal space of the jail women said that they experienced regional differences apart from differences on the basis of age, religion and caste, but that these differences did not affect their feeling of unity. Women also used to read and write within the four walls of the jail. As an activist said, ‘The political prisoners spent their time reading, writing and discussing the future’ (Hutheesing 1946: 27). Women respondents recalled hiding some of the nationalist literature to read it. On one occasion a political prisoner handed some literature to the matron.44 Women composed poetry and wrote radical nationalist tracts. This written material was smuggled out of the jail and published in national newspapers and vernacular magazines. Considered inflammatory, this literature was confiscated by the British and categorised as proscribed literature. One such tract was called ‘Bahen Satyavati ka Jail Sandesh’ (A message from your sister Satyavati from jail), and was published by Pandit Babu Ram Sharma. Satyavati was the grand-daughter of Swami Shraddhanand and a founder member of the Naujavan Bharat Sabha, a youth organisation in Delhi. She was imprisoned several times. An extract from her prison writings reads: This is a message from your jailed sister Sister Satyavati appeals to you Do not slacken from your work

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Jump if required into the burning flames The sacred battle should be full of strength Once you have stepped forward, never retreat Die before the men in the battlefield Do not fear bullets or sticks Put your head forward before the men Once lit, the fire should never go out I have full faith now Because the women have prepared themselves (PP.Hin.B. 146, 1931b).

This poem is inspirational, and its emotional appeal serves as fuel for mobilising and motivating women to participate. It is about sacrifice and commitment to the nationalist cause. Women are depicted as wanting to show themselves as stronger than men, as wanting to take up the challenge first. The battle to come is given both religious and moral significance. In a movement which involved the masses, it was natural that the participants would exhibit different levels of commitment and motivation. The poems tried to keep the nation’s commitment to the movement high by resorting to personalised appeals and stressing the idea of sacrifice for the motherland. They were written to touch the emotions of the populace and enhance their nationalist fervour. Though the prison was a site of captivity and discipline, it ‘often became a focus or symbol of wider defiance against the British’ (Arnold 1994: 152).45 Acts of defiance, indicative of women’s physical and moral strength, were located around the issue of food. First, women would voluntarily stop accepting food to express their resentment towards the matrons or wardens. This would lead to the matron cajoling as well as coaxing these women to resume eating. For example, an English matron in Farrukhabad jail said to one respondent, ‘You are intelligent, you should start eating’. The respondent replied, ‘That means the rest are idiots! If that is so, then I am more of an idiot than them’.46 Second, the jailer would refuse food to women who would not ask for forgiveness for their misconduct. The women who could control their hunger helped the other inmates who were unable to sustain for a longer time. For example, women with infants (Subba Rao 1994) were secretly given food, and those women who could not control their

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hunger were also fed secretly so that they did not have to ask for forgiveness.47 The entry of women into male-dominated spaces dispelled the British stereotypes about Indian women as subordinate, weak and docile. By entering the jails women proved their courage, determination and strong commitment to put an end to British rule. Women’s experiences are a strong indictment of British rule as well as a statement of their courage. Women brought features of the domestic sphere into the public domain of the jails, features such as solidarity, support and steadfastness. They built similar networks in jail that they would in their own neighbourhoods. On the other hand, the British could no longer talk unabashedly about their civilised behaviour once Indian women protesters were physically assaulted and manhandled by the guardians of law and order, and ‘by clearing protesting women off the streets they (British) had to give up their image of being supporters of social progress and the women’s cause’ (Engels 1989: 432). The women exposed the brutality of the British government. They were also aware that by endangering their womanhood on the streets and putting their bodies under risk of attack, they proved that they could share common experiences with their fellow men in the public sphere. Moreover, contrary to claims by British administrators such as Lord Cornwallis and T.B. Macaulay that ‘imprisonment’ was humane and rational, it was only one mode of punishment. The British responded differently to male and female revolutionaries. A female revolutionary, Bina Das, at her trial spoke of the ‘murder and indiscriminate beatings at Chittagong, Midnapore and Hijli detention centres’, all of them in Calcutta (Forbes 1980). Citing the example of a detained revolutionary widow Nanibala Devi,48 Engels comments, ‘her revolutionary connections as well as her social background did not qualify her for the special considerations British officials reserved for respectable middleclass women freedom fighters’ (Engels 1989: 433). Male revolutionaries were hanged, sent to the Andaman’s or imprisoned for life. The transportation from India to south-east Asia, which began in the 1780s, was recommended as ‘an instrument of power because of Hindu antipathy towards crossing the “black waters” (kala pani)’ (Arnold 1994: 175).

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The reasons for differential attitudes towards revolutionaries and satyagrahis are beyond the scope of this chapter. However, I would like to suggest that prisons and punishments exposed the ways in which, at specific historical junctures, nationalist and colonialist discourses intersected to meet their specific political agendas. For the colonial authorities the revolutionaries were a more serious threat than the Congress satyagrahis, and for the Congress nationalists the image, goals and aspirations of the revolutionaries were antithetical to the Gandhian non-violent movement.

Notes 1 David Arnold and Anand Yang’s work had brilliantly explored the emergence of the colonial prison as a site of resistance and contestation of the colonial power in 19th century India (Arnold 1994; Yang 1987). 2 Chand (Moon) was published from Allahabad. Its editor Ramrakh Singh Sahgal and manager Vidyavati Sahgal were a husband and wife team. 3 Vidyavati Sahgal, Chand, November 1930, pp. 2–4. 4 The British authorities treated women who engaged in violence harshly. ‘Those who neither conformed with the British image of a lady nor the heroic woman were singled out and harshly punished by the colonial authorities as well as Bengali society’ (Engels 1989: 432). 5 In the wider nationalist context, it can be argued that the Indian ‘woman’ was the embodiment of the sacred, untouched, un-colonised domestic sphere, which in many ways was being replicated in the colonial prison. Any misdemeanours towards them were perceived as an attack on the sanctity of the untarnished domestic sphere as well. Also, women used a primarily male vocabulary of ‘honour’ and ‘shame’ to serve their own purpose. 6 Transcript of interview with Vijay Devi Rathore. 7 The Leader carried articles which mentioned the ‘indiscriminate’ assault on lady volunteers. ‘Lady Volunteers hurt: Allegations against Agra Police’, The Leader, 26 April 1930, p. 10. 8 Speech of the President of the National Conference for the Hind Nation, PP.Hin.F4/1931. Two lakh is 200,000. 9 The dictators were appointed leaders by the Congress committee. They were known as dictators because it was not possible to have proper meetings of the committee to elect a leader, nor was it even possible always to meet because the Congress office was guarded by the police. A dictator, therefore, had full powers to issue orders for nationalist activities and all Congress workers obeyed such commands (Pandit 1979: 102). These experiences are similar to those of the suffragettes in Britain who were

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fighting the liberals over the political issue of their own enfranchisement. Emmeline Pankhurst in her autobiography mentions that they were ‘so organised that the arrest of leaders does not seriously cripple. Everyone has an understudy, and when one leader drops out her substitute is ready instantly to take her place’ (Pankhurst 1914). Agra District Congress Committee, Agra Satyagraha Sangrama, PP.Hin.33, 1931:17. Satyagraha Samachar, 29 May 1930; Home Police Department, File No. 106/1930, file heading: ‘Demanding Security from the Satyagraha Samachar’. Satyagraha Samachar was published by Baij Nath Kanpur from the Abyudaya Press in UP. After it was banned it started appearing on cyclostyled sheets. It carried provocative nationalist articles. Also see Purshotamdas Thakurdas papers, File 101, 1930, NMML. H.W. Emerson, Secretary to the Government of India, NAI, No. D. 1305/32, Pol., 30 January 1932. ‘Lord Irwin’s reply “The Women Prisoners”’, Hindustan Times, 11 February 1930, p. 9. This also suggests the effects of deification of Indian women on the subconscious of the British rulers. She was elected in April 1924 from the largely industrial Middlesbrough constituency. Ellen deplored the government’s failure to extend franchise to women under the age of 30. She strongly advocated for women’s employment in England and questioned the inadequacies of unemployment benefit which affected women more than men (Vernon 1982). This event was reported in Pearsons Weekly on 7 January 1933 (Vernon 1982, p. 99). Transcript of interview with Narayani Tripathi. A Brahmin born in 1927 at Jhubrajpur village in Kanpur district. Her father was a small zamindar and her step-mother, Lakhmi Devi Dixit kept purdah. She was sent for primary education to Nigoha village, approximately two kilometres from her village. Her father never encouraged her step-mother to come out but used to take her to attend all Congress political meetings. Transcript of interview with Satish Saxena. A Kayastha by caste, he was born in 1927 and spent many years in Kanpur. No political activity was encouraged by his father who worked at the Imperial Dock Company. He said that the only time he wore khadi was when he had little money not because of nationalist sentiments. Transcripts of interviews with Vijay Devi Rathore and Gayatri Dubey. Gayatri Dubey was born in 1908 in Farrukhabad district. She was married to Pandit Dwarkaprasad Dubey. The husband-wife team were supporters of the Congress. Transcripts of interviews with Uma Dixit, Tulsa Devi and Gayatri Dubey. Tulsa Devi, Brahmin, spent her married life at Dharmangadpur village, Kanpur district. She was illiterate but supported her husband’s political

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activities. She kept purdah, and her first child died because of lack of food in the house. The primary reason being that her husband spent most of his time either way from home or in prison. Transcripts of interviews with Satish Saxena and Uttara Saxena. Uttara Saxena, a Kayastha, was born in 1928. She was educated till the eighth standard at Sen Balika Vidhyalaya in Kanpur. Her father never asked her mother (who kept purdah) to participate in the movement. She was encouraged at school to participate by the girls in the senior grades. Raj Kumari Gupta was born in Banda zilla of Kanpur in 1902. Her father was a grocer, and her mother was in purdah. She was married at the age of 13 to the late Madan Mohan Gupta. He was a revolutionary but also participated in Congress activities. The Oxford English Dictionary (1988), third edition, Oxford University Press. The provocative nature of these narratives pushed the government to categorise them as ‘proscribed’. By the late 1930s, the editor of Aaj, Baburao Vishnu Pararkar, a Maharashtrian, converted the newspaper into a mouthpiece for the Congress party (Mitra 1988: 160). The Leader, 26 May 1930, p. 12. Inquilab ki Lahar, PIB. 67/19:1931. PP. Hin. F25/1932. ‘An appeal to Indians in the police force to resign and join the freedom movement’, Indumati Goyanka, Rashtriya Mahila Samiti, Calcutta, PP. Hin. F90/1930. Confidential letter from J.M. Clay, Esq., CIE, OBE, ICS, Chief Secretary to Government of United Provinces to Hon. H.W. Emerson, CSI, CIE, CBE, ICS, Secretary to the Government of India, Home Department, Simla, Police Department, 18 April 1932, India Office Records/L/PJ/7/293. An order which enabled the state to keep a suspect in a ‘secure place until the Socialist Prosecutor can begin the investigations’ (Sa’adawi, 1986: 52). NAI, No.D. 1305/32, Home Pol., 30 January 1932. Transcript of interview with Shiv Singh Verma. While this research looks specifically at middle-class nationalist experiences in the first half of the 20th century, David Arnold’s important piece of writing looks at the experiences of prisoners from other classes as well as illiterate prisoners who formed the great majority of convicts (Arnold 1994). Vartman, 22 February 1931, p. 1. There were similar protests and hunger strikes by suffragettes who wanted the government to recognise the political nature of their offences and the nature of difficulties political prisoners had to undergo (Pankhurst 1914). Transcript of interview with Dhirendranath Pandey, son of late Surendranath Pandey, a revolutionary. In a chapter titled ‘Women’s Prisons’, the author Malek Alloula explores themes of imprisonment of the body with reference to Algerian women.

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The women confined to the home, the inaccessible veiled woman or the woman in the harem are some forms of imprisonment that are explored (Alloula 1987: 17–26). Transcript of interview with Gulabo Debi (name changed). Transcript of interview with Gulabo Debi (name changed). Transcripts of interviews with Brij Rani Misra, Tara Devi and Vijay Kumari. Brij Rani Misra, a Brahmin was politically active in Tehsil Bilhour, near Kanpur Dehat. She and her husband, Brij Kishore Misra were Congress members. She was actively involved in the Quit India movement. Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Allahabad, Vol. XLIX, No. 3, 1931. Transcript of interview with Uttara Saxena. Transcript of interview with Vijay Devi Rathore. Shiv Rani Devi, the wife of the famous Hindi writer Premchand, received literature written by her husband in the prison. Transcript of interview with Vijay Devi Rathore. There are many examples of prison protests and wider and popular revolts, most evident in the 1857 revolt which saw the destruction of jails in Meerut, Kanpur and Allahabad (Kaye 1870: 42, 44–45, cited in Arnold 1994: 153). Transcript of interview with Vijay Devi Rathore. Transcript of interview with Vijay Devi Rathore. She was born in 1888 in Bali, Howrah district, Calcutta.

Chapter 5

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18 OCTOBER 1992, a local newspaper called the Dainik Jagran published from Kanpur district of UP carried an article titled ‘Narratives that never surfaced’ (translated) as part of a special Independence Day feature: N

The tears of pativratas1 do not fall on their motherland without any significance. In our long nationalist struggle for independence, the widows and companions of nationalist men have shouldered extraordinary pain without a sigh, without complaining. However, the nation has not realised it, neither has anybody remembered it. The names of men who sacrificed their lives for the nation have been recorded in books, in memoirs and biographies, inscriptions and writings on slabs of stones. However, those wives, mothers and nurturers who agreed with their husbands and who transformed the oil of their tears to light the paths of their husbands—their names are never mentioned (Prasad Jagesh, Dainik Jagran, 1992).

The article suggests that while the contribution of men (in the public sphere) were ‘recorded’ and celebrated, there is no such mention of the women in the households, who stood as pillars of support for ‘their husbands’ throughout the movement. In the decades after Independence, newspapers and vernacular literature published the reminiscences of women’s domestic nationalist activities.2 These articles referred to ordinary middle-class women, whose nationalist contributions, primarily in the domestic sphere, have been inadequately acknowledged in Indian nationalist historiography. Several questions arise: Why were ordinary middle-class women’s contributions, such as those described above, not included in the ‘memory’ of

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the nation? Is it because, within the specific social and political context, it was necessary to emphasise only women’s nationalist activities in the public domain? What was the nature of nationalist activities of ordinary middle-class women within the domestic sphere in the Hindispeaking belt of India? How did women who were mainly confined to the domestic sphere understand and articulate their own contributions to the political movement? It would be difficult to demonstrate the validity of these questions without exploring some of the influential scholarship that has highlighted the centrality of the domestic sphere/inner spiritual domain to the nationalist project, and the ways in which domesticity and domestic order came to ‘service’ the nation. Though some of these debates have been articulated in the context of colonial Bengal and are most relevant to the Bengali Hindu bhadralok class (the respectable middle class of colonial Bengal), they are nonetheless important in trying to understand the ways in which nationalist debates were not only politically and historically contingent, but arose out of the specific needs of anti-colonial nationalism in India. Partha Chatterjee (1989, 1993, 1996) argues that anti-colonial nationalism creates its ‘own domain of sovereignty within colonial society well before it begins its political battle with the imperial power’ (Chatterjee 1996: 217). The world of social institutions was divided into two distinct domains—the material and the spiritual. The spiritual domain represented by home and family was the ‘sovereign territory’ where no colonial intrusion would be allowed. Though the state was in the hands of the colonial power in the material sphere, it was sovereign in its spiritual domain. Chatterjee argues that it was this period that was ‘already the period of nationalism’ (ibid.; see also Madan 2003). The ‘new woman’ was the embodiment of the nationalist culture, the upholder of nationalist traditions within the spiritual domain, the domain of the family, the home. The new woman was to be ‘modern’ but not ‘western’. Her primary duty was to preserve the culture of her nation by upholding the tradition and values that constituted that culture (Chatterjee 1989: 243).3 Dipesh Chakrabarty (1993), focusing on the Hindu bhadralok, argues that their engagement with ‘modernising’ the domestic cannot be discussed in separation from nationalism, ‘the ideology that promised citizenship and the nation-state—and thus the ideal civil-political society that the

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domestic order would have the duty of servicing (ibid.: 2). Thus in 19th and early 20th century colonial Bengal debates on domesticity came to be framed by the needs of the civil-political life. Influenced by the ideas of Victorian England, the personal and the domestic came to be more closely associated with the idea of the nation. Bengali narratives of the time reflected some of the key concerns within nationalist thought on reforming and reconstructing domestic life along lines of education of wives and mothers, personal and domestic discipline, food regimes and the management of time. Focusing on the Hindu middle class in late 19th century Bengal, Tanika Sarkar (2001) argues that through successful ‘governance’ of the household the Hindu nationalist could ‘establish a claim to the share of power in the world, a political role that the Hindu is entitled to’ (ibid.: 38; see also Sarkar 1992). Paradoxically, the Indian male could not access the same freedom associated with being a public man (the male citizen-subject in western liberalism was a ‘public’ man and was a representative of freedom) because he was ‘colonised’ in the public domain. Instead the Indian male exerted his freedom and autonomy in the ‘uncolonised’ domestic domain—a space where no negotiations would take place with the British.4 In an important piece of work, Kamala Viswesaran agrees with Chatterjee and Chakrabarty that ‘the “home” becomes the discursive site of nationalist victory when the “world” has been ceded to the colonial state’ (Viswesaran 1996: 86). However, she departs from their analyses and suggests that nationalist ideology rendered women as ‘…domestic(ated) and not political (public) subjects. Through the nationalist resolution of the “woman question”, the home became the “site of nationalist silence”’, a non-negotiable domain within the colonial state. Since women’s subjectivities are located in the home, it also led to a silencing of women’s agency (ibid.: 88). She argues that both the nationalist and colonial discourses are implicated in ‘containing’ women’s agency through silencing and selection. Focusing on Madras Presidency, Viswesaran argues that this containment is two-pronged, ‘one which locates agency in speech and then denies speech to most women’ (ibid.: 86). Though these analyses deal with specific regions some common themes emerge: first, the public profile of Indian male activists was shaped mainly by their relationship with the domestic sphere, which was

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a site of national and cultural identity, and women the chief symbols thereof. Second, the domestic domain was both inseparable and permeable to political actions in the public sphere and shaped by anti-colonial nationalist needs. However, ‘politics’ and the ‘political’ is associated with the public domain. Domesticity is analysed in relation to its importance to the nationalist discourse and civic-political life for male nationalists. Even though Viswesaran importantly points out the ways in which women’s agency was being silenced by both nationalist and colonial ideology, her contention with these discourses is the way they render women as ‘domesticated’ and not as ‘political’ subjects. But could not the idea of ‘domestic/domesticated’ also incorporate the idea of ‘political/ politicisation’? Could we not only see how the domestic sphere was being reformed but also getting politicised through women’s own activities within the domestic sphere? How were ordinary middle-class women, women who could never cross the domestic threshold to participate in the public sphere, perceive and experience ‘nationalism’? How important was domesticity for women themselves and in what ways did it enable women to shape their own subjectivities? It is important to explore the ‘complexity of this for women themselves’ (Blom 2000: 14). These questions were to take me into the heart of my own family, which actively participated in nationalist politics during the anti-colonial struggle against British rule in India in the 19th and 20th century.

COLONIAL CONTEXTS: SUBJECTIVE ACCOUNTS Hancock states that the ‘home’s salience as a nationalist icon stems from its potency as a site of memory. It is a metaphor for narrating personal and collective pasts, as well as an index of the socio-cultural economic and political forces that affect individual lives’ (Hancock 1999: 156). My emphasis on the domestic/home as a site of political activity has its own history. I grew up in a household in which my grandmother, Iqbalwati Handa, and mother, Kamala Seth, saw themselves as having made significant contributions to the nationalist movement.5 Yet because my grandmother was confined to the domestic sphere, her activities have never been acknowledged within the dominant public discourse. My maternal grandfather, a state public prosecutor during British rule, did

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not allow her to leave the house. But she overcame the restrictions imposed by my grandfather and taught my uncles and aunts, especially my mother, about the freedom movement. She memorised patriotic songs that she learnt at Arya Samaj meetings and would sing these to her children.6 She was an avid reader of Hindi newspapers like Dainik Milap, a local Lahore publication, and other Hindi magazines to which my grandfather subscribed. My grandmother found herself in a difficult position because she was positioned in a household that was pro-British while she herself harboured strong nationalist feelings. The environment of the home is often influenced by the ‘larger culture’ (Burton 1997: 922) and what Kumkum Sangari (1993) calls the pressures of ‘historical placement’ (Sangari, cited in Burton 1997). My mother Kamala talks about my grandparents: My father used to read the English newspaper, The Tribune, and he also had access to secret information about the activities of anti-British leaders and to files on those who were soon to be arrested. My mother was very inquisitive and kept prodding my father for more information on the current situation, which he supplied willingly. Often their discussions used to become acrimonious because my mother was strongly anti-British and pro-Hindu while my father was pro-British and even seemed to like the Muslims.7

As part of his professional duties my grandfather had to keep himself informed of local news and the latest developments in the nationalist movement. Ironically, he used to make my grandmother read aloud the latest news in Hindi, since he had a poor command of the language. Despite my grandfather’s opposition, my grandmother created a nationalist environment within the home and infused her children with patriotic feelings. She would memorise the nationalist details which she discussed with her husband, and in his absence would narrate these details to my mother and my uncles and aunts or to other women at Arya Samaj meetings. My mother recalls: My mother used to become very excited reading from the newspapers about the exploits of Gandhi, Nehru and other leaders. She used to call all of us and give us details of the activities of Kamala Nehru and Sarojini Naidu. We were inspired by her stories of Bhagat Singh and Jhansi ki Rani and Hari Singh Nalva (a general in Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s army),

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who fought valiantly against the British. She used to say to us, ‘See what sacrifices our countrymen are making to drive these Britishers out. How brave Indians are’.8

In detailing her ‘domestic genealogies as a daughter’, my mother Kamala Seth sought to ‘represent’ her experiences as what Burton calls ‘not just in history but as history as well’ (Burton 1997: 922). This personal narrative gave me the interest to locate the narratives of other women, who due to social constraints had to spend a large part of their lives within the domestic sphere.

FAMILY DYNAMICS During the non-cooperation movement that began in 1920, the first organised mass campaign against the British Raj, Gandhi sought to mobilise a large number of women in the movement. However, he was acutely aware of the social status of women, and though his approach was pragmatic, ‘he did not shut his eyes to the actual situation of women. He laid stress on that part of the non-cooperation movement in which women could participate without having to make the attempt to break free of their fetters’ (Rao 1994: 33). The direct participation of women in the public sphere was not significant during the non-cooperation movement, and women were actively encouraged by nationalist leaders to make their political contributions from within the domestic sphere. Women’s public activities were more pronounced during the civil disobedience movement (Rao 1994; Viswesaran 1996; Chatterjee 2001). Since many upper caste women were still confined to the domestic sphere, family dynamics were important in encouraging women to express themselves politically. Those women who were exposed to nationalist family attitudes in their parental homes and in conjugal households were in a very different situation from those women who faced unfavourable family attitudes and circumscribed family circumstances. In northern India, particularly in Uttar Pradesh, most of the respondents had been in purdah at some stage in their lives, whether as unmarried girls in their fathers’ houses or as married women in their husbands’ houses, though the degree of restrictions could vary across households.

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In other situations women could make limited visits outside their homes if male members of the family escorted them. In some conservative families, strict purdah was enforced. Manavati Arya in ‘A Report of the participation of Women in the Azad Hind Movement led by Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose in South East Asia’ says that ‘women were limited within the four walls of their homes with no opportunities for education or economic independence’.9 However, for some women, practices like purdah that enforced segregation and the exclusion of women from men’s affairs were not obstacles to activities of nationalist importance. Instead, women used segregation to help them organise their activities in the domestic sphere, in a similar way that they had used segregation to participate in activities in the public domain. In the parental home, an activist would often gain support from the womenfolk, primarily from the mother. If the father was involved in the public sphere or serving a long jail sentence, the mother was the primary source of emotional support.10 She was also responsible for the family’s livelihood. In other circumstances, where the father or husband opposed any nationalist activity within the house, women conducted such activities clandestinely.11 My own grandmother paid no heed to my civil servant grandfather’s pro-British stance, and continued with her activities. Occasionally, men tried to persuade their womenfolk to participate or encouraged them to leave the purdah. Often, when this happened, women refused to come out of the domestic sphere because, ‘us samay aache khandan ke aurate ghar se bahar nahin nikalti’ (in those days women from good families did not come out of the house).12 The dynamics within the joint family in north India were contradictory. Some women did not come out because the elder women (grandmothers, mother-in-laws, aunts, sister-in-laws) in the household objected to the younger women discarding purdah. This was not of unalloyed significance since the younger women were able to enjoy the company of women from the same generation (sisters, aunts, sister-inlaws) in a joint household, and it was possible for them to organise and conduct activities as a group. Older women are particularly responsible for the ‘cultural reproduction’ of the nation, and at certain historical junctures govern the most appropriate behaviour, appearance and conduct of other women (Yuval-Davis 1997: 37). The element of solidarity and sisterhood was stronger in a joint family household, and as one

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respondent commented, ‘I do not recall my mother either encouraging or discouraging me. Purdah prevailed in sasural (husband’s house) and I could only go out with my mother-in-law. However, there was lots of conversation between the womenfolk about the prevailing political atmosphere’.13 Within a shared urban middle-class household there were tensions, strains and varying layers of consciousness among women. The extended family may ‘look harmonious to the casual observer, but it may contain many divisions. Inside the courtyard, there are probably several hearths’ (Minault 1981: 15). Women organised themselves as both imparters and recipients of nationalist information. In order to facilitate their own activities in the domestic sphere, it was important for women to maintain links with political activities in the public domain. There were three ways through which women kept themselves informed of the wider political developments. First, they educated themselves by reading local Hindi newspapers and Hindi printed material like Viswamitra and Vir Arjun. Women came to ‘know the activities of the Congress and the demands of the nationalist movement’.14 Some respondents mentioned having read the stories and plays of Premchand (1880–1936), who wrote in Hindi on nationalist themes and ideas.15 He is regarded as the ‘most remarkable figure in modern Hindi literature in the colonial era, who had a tremendous impact in north India. His work has the same historical significance for India as that of Dickens for England, Balzac for France and Tolstoy and Maxim Gorky for Russia (Gupta 1991: 88). His novels such as Godan, Vardan and Kafan address nationalist themes and ideas through fictionalised characters (Lal 1965: 284). Other writings of Prem Chand such as Juloos, Sharab Ki Dukan and Jail refer specifically to women’s participation in the civil disobedience movement (Saxena 1988: 8). Some women enjoyed the poems and prose of two female writers from northern India—Mahadevi Verma, born in Farrukhabad, UP, and her college companion Subhadra Kumari Chauhan. Through the vernacular styles of braj bhasha and khadi boli, these writers wrote nationalist poetry and articles on the nationalist participation and social reform for women (Verma 1986: 5).16 Second, they eavesdropped on men’s conversations in the household and discussed ideas amongst themselves; the household emerged as a hotbed of discussions and conspiracy between extended kin, particularly in the sasural (husband’s house) between the in-laws (sas and sasur) the

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Figure 5.1

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Kala Tripathi of Hissar, Haryana

Born in 1919 and remained confined to the domestic sphere under strict purdah. She never participated in the public domain of the movement.

younger brothers of the husband and their wives (devranis) and the unmarried sisters-in-law (nanad).17 Fourteen members in a household was an average size, though it could reach up to sixty.18 Although the domestic politics within large households led to conflicts and disagreements, it also encouraged community feelings among family members. Women would sing patriotic songs and share pieces of information that they acquired from various sources. One activist (Figure 5.1) remembers two lines of a particular song: Listen friend, Congressmen will establish a New World, Very worthy accomplished people have lived in this country of ours.19

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Figure 5.2

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Itraaji and Chabiraji of Faizabad, Uttar Pradesh

Sisters by birth. After their marriages, they moved from Faizabad to Sultanpur. They were illiterate but it did not prevent them from keeping themselves informed of the nationalist movement. While in purdah, they often eavesdropped on men’s conversations in the house and then discussed the political issues between themselves.

On women’s discussions in her sasural, an activist (Figure 5.2) recalled: The women of the house would discuss the political situation after hearing the menfolk discussing it. The women gained information passively by listening to men. We had no direct discussions with the men.20

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One woman had memorised the patriotic songs she learnt from her brother, who had learnt them at school and then recited it to the womenfolk in his family: Yeh desh hamara hai Bharat hamara pyara hai.21 (This nation is ours This is India, the nation we love.)

She remembered that her parents had listened to these songs with great pride. Occasionally, women held meetings in each other’s homes. The women of a mohalla (neighbourhood) would invite other women to their homes to discuss political events and sing patriotic songs, songs such as: Mard bano mard bano, Sab Hindustani mard bano, Avtar Mahatma Gandhi huye, Azad Hindustan karane ko.22 (Be a man, be a man All Indians be men Mahatma Gandhi is our god To liberate India now.)

The song is provocative and is directed at those men who were either scared of losing their government jobs or were supportive of British rule, which questioned their masculinity. It urges the men to act like a mard (real man), one who is courageous and strong. Third, the women listened to the radio, which was an invaluable source of nationalist information, such as broadcasts of patriotic songs, details of the progress of the movement, the number of imprisonments and life sentences as well as stirring speeches. Women who could not read or write could keep themselves informed through the radio. However, in a few households, women were not allowed to listen to the radio. In one particular household, ‘when the radio was on, the men of the house collected around it and listened. The women were not allowed, neither the mothers, daughters nor anybody’.23 If women listened to the radio in that household it would mean that they were

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disrespectful and wanted to engage in activities associated primarily with men. In households where purdah was followed it would also suggest that women were disrespectful to their purdah status.

DOMESTIC VALUES There were five main ways in which women participated in nationalist activities and demonstrated the political significance of the domestic sphere. These were: (i) constructive programmes like spinning khadi, (ii) familial sacrifice, (iii) being supportive wives and mothers, and nurturers, to activists, (iv) being pillars of support and strength, and (v) conducting secret activities.

Gandhi and the Constructive Programme Gandhi expected women to contribute to the political cause primarily from within the domestic sphere through their roles as supportive wives and mothers.24 The concept of swadeshi (indigenous) was aligned with the political liberation of the country (Brown 1989: 89). Like salt, he used another ordinary household item, the charkha or spinning wheel, to ignite the imagination of the masses, and politicised and popularised this domestic object at both the national and local levels. It was possible for women to contribute to the nationalist movement from within the domestic sphere since Gandhi had articulated that ‘every act counted’ (Forbes 1998: 125).25 The charkha was the ‘symbol of the unity of the people and their respect and dignity as a nation’ (Agnew 1979: 37). The role of women was significant in this constructive programme because they were expected to be responsible for spreading both the message of swadeshi and emphasising its importance in India’s struggle for independence. For example, it was said by Yatindra Kumar in the magazine Chand: Delicate sisters of ours are wearing coarse khadi. The modern Indian woman has sacrificed all means of luxury and old archaic rotten traditions into the sacrificial fire of freedom. This is an absolutely new fact in the history of the world (Kumar 1930: 72).

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Spinning khadi on the charkha was a powerful nationalist statement which showed that not only could domestic values be associated with nationalist activities in the public sphere such as in the picketing of foreign cloth shops, but also that nationalist activities could be taken into, and performed, within the domestic sphere. Men and women wore khadi in the public domain as a mark of national pride. Gandhi’s belief in self-rule and self-reliance (swavalambh) was not ‘rugged individualism but rather individual responsibility in the context of the community’ (Jain 1986: 267). Self-reliance for Gandhi did not only mean liberation from British colonial rule but also internal liberation from the dominant classes and capitalists. This could be achieved through spinning khadi and production for self-consumption, even if on a small scale. Self-reliance also minimised one’s material wants and disciplined one’s mind and body, ‘preparing in every way for the hardship and potential deprivation of a non-violent struggle. Swaraj (home rule), swadeshi (the use of self-made goods) and swavalambh (self-reliance) were linked together in Gandhi’s opinion. Self-made goods became Gandhi’s platform, linking political with individual freedom’ (ibid.: 267–69). Besides, he argued that colonial rule would be contested from both the political and economic platforms (Guha 1997). Ideas about spinning and weaving khadi were propagated through literature and public speeches.26 Paradoxically, foreign (videshi) cloth was cheaper than indigenous (swadeshi) cloth, and more comfortable to wear than the coarse khadi. A woman contributor to Chand commented: Kamala Nehru said a lot of things but the most important point was the boycott of foreign cloth and adoption of swadeshi. But how can one talk of adopting swadeshi when people here think that these days foreign cloth is cheap. So why not buy some and keep? Men somehow manage to wear coarse khadi but women tend to turn up their noses at it. It is thus the duty of our sisters to take to swadeshi things.27

By spinning, weaving and selling khadi, women could help in their own liberation by gaining a modicum of economic independence. The self-sufficiency achieved through producing swadeshi cloth also helped the struggle for national liberation. Women could bring swaraj to the household.

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Womankind, it’s time to be alert, Wake up from your slumber, Leave your laziness behind, Call swaraj to the household yourselves, In your free time move the charkha, Make your clothes yourselves. (PP.Hin.B. 3121, 1922)

Extracts from three poems illustrate the collective feelings towards these actions. In a poem entitled ‘Swatantra ki Devi’ (Goddess of Independence) published from Agra by Girij Kishore Agarwal, a woman tells her husband: Why don’t you get me a sari of khaddar, I no longer like the foreign silk sarees. Nobody wears videshi (British) clothes, Get me a charkha, on which I can spin. (PP.Hin.B. 66, 1931)

At times poems were written by men but in a woman’s voice and addressed to women. In ‘The Jingle of the Shackles’, Jagannatha Prasad Arora draws links between national independence and the spinning of the charkha: Now we shall spin on the charkha, Silk sarees made in London. And the satin threads will all be boycotted, All foreign clothes will be burned. Their place will be taken by our pure khadi, India will now save its money. If you want to liberate yourself, If you have the feeling of swaraj in your hearts, Then wear the coarse khadi, And spin the charkha in your homes. (PP.Hin.B. 298, 1930)

In a poem written by Kasturba Gandhi, the contribution of women to the nation through the use of the charkha is stressed: Move the charkha my sisters, Whenever you have spare time from domestic chores,

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Spend the day on the charkha. Do not wear makhmal (silk), Instead stitch chadars (sheets) made from khaddar. The nation has become poor from its own carelessness, However, you can increase India’s wealth by spinning on the charkha. In the ancient manuals of work, it is directed that the charkha should be worshipped. Do not forget your old ritis (values), Do desh seva (serve your nation). This is the best opportunity, Do not waste time. After you have heard this message from me, Spread the message around to the other sisters, And all sisters should spin on the charkha. (PP.Hin.B. 462, 1923)

Some common themes can be identified in this poem. First, nationalist activity could be brought within the domestic sphere through constructive programmes. More importantly, women were given charge of the economic status of their country as well as themselves. Khadi served as a means of generating economic fluidity primarily for the lower classes, but through this activity Gandhi also challenged the dominant norms of the upper castes, as well as the middle-class values that associated high status with women’s non-involvement in ‘productive work’ (Kasturi and Mazumdar 1994: 42). However, it needs to be emphasised that many women from ordinary middle-class homes were compelled to take cognisance of the movement when their sons/fathers/husbands were hauled to prisons and they were left to provide the economic means for the household. Individual women respondents spun on the charkha, some everyday uninterrupted by other responsibilities. Kusum Agarwal said, ‘When I was twelve years old my father’s elder brother used to tell us to spin on the charkha. Even at that age I was very conscientious about my nation. Everyday we used to spin after school’.28 Sometimes, the khadi chadars that were made were given away to revolutionaries in hiding.29 To support and coordinate the efforts of women involved in spinning and weaving it was necessary to form local organisations which encouraged constructive work and also had access to purdah-bound women. Individual women took the initiative in forming such organisations. For

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example the Mahila Mandal (Women’s Association) in Benares was established in 1934 by 27-year-old Srimati Ratneshwari Devi. The Mandal gradually developed into a small organisation, and one of the points on its agenda was to introduce purdah-clad women to social and economic activity. Ratneshwari, supported by her family and elder brothers, had a strong belief that if women became educated and economically independent they would be able to be of greater help to the nation. The initial committees within the organisation were formed primarily to educate women, and to develop their consciousness towards both their status in society and the broader political situation. The organisation had a charkha centre, a home nursing centre, a music department, a painting school, a rifle club and also produced a magazine called Vidushi (literate woman). Women who joined this organisation ‘were enlightened towards the notion of loving one’s nation’ and made monetary contributions towards the Azad Hind Fauj (Army for India’s Independence).30 Symbols of nationalism were also popularised through cultural themes, illustrated by cartoons in magazines and newspapers. Plays were staged in public places, often based on nationalist themes associated with the domestic sphere, such as the spinning and weaving of khadi. The nationalist symbolism associated with domestic objects like the charkha was made to be of public interest. The vow of swadeshi was also transformed ‘from its political underpinnings to a religious and moral issue and held within it the protection of Indian womanhood as a dharma. The defence of this honour, in turn, becomes Ishwar bhakti or devotion to God’ (Patel 1985: 1256). The second important way through which women’s activities politicised the domestic sphere was through the nature of familial sacrifice that was necessary for supporting the nationalist movement.

Familial Sacrifice The domestic-based qualities of sacrifice, the good nurturer, strength of will and fortitude were linked by the key concept of ‘service (seva) to the nation’ and widely referred to in the Hindi literature. Vidyavati Sahgal wrote about how, ‘In this short time this andolan (movement)

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despite repression has created an extraordinary awareness and given new life to the women of India’ (Sahgal 1930: 4). She emphasised that ‘in a few months this movement has liberated women from centuries of subordination’ (ibid.). Drawing on a quote from the Indian Mahila Sangh magazine Stree Dharm she states that, ‘The weapons of the movement like truth, patience, sacrifice, purity of soul are only of women and it is thus no surprise that women are taking the main part in the movement’ (ibid.). The activity that best encapsulated the ‘weapons of the movement’, particularly sacrifice, was fasting, a practice that is still popular in contemporary India for self-purification as well as for the general prosperity of one’s family. Even Gandhi advocated fasting for both men and women to enable them to have greater control over their bodies and the senses that generated pleasure: Gandhi viewed the body as inextricably linked to the soul and spirit, and also as a microcosm of the social. It is thus not surprising to find that his political campaigns were often intimately linked with bodily functions. He used fasting as a weapon in his political armoury (Caplan 1989: 277).

In their own homes women fasted and conducted nationalist religious prayers.31 It was an activity associated with the Hindu religious beliefs of purification of the body, mind and soul and closely associated with the Hindu concept of dharma.32 Food is necessary for personal survival, and thus fasts can be turned into a public political weapon, having ‘a beneficial effect upon the penitent (that is the faster), upon the wrongdoer and upon the congregation which witnesses the act’ (ibid.: 278). Through fasting women were also completing their essential religious duties (dharma). To abruptly end fasting, especially when it was so closely aligned with nationalist duty, was viewed as breach of dharma.33 Women’s fasting for the well-being of their husbands, sons and brothers who were serving jail sentences was extended to the idea of fasting for the nation, closely aligning the domestic sphere with nationalist politics. Surendranath Pandey, along with his associates Bhagat Singh and Chandrashekhar Azad, was accused in the Lahore conspiracy case and was imprisoned in the Lahore Borstal prison. During his time of imprisonment his wife fasted, ‘and the day she died, all the accused in the prison wore black bands and did not eat for the whole day’.34 The

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wife, in purdah, fasted within the confines of the domestic domain as a way to identify with the suffering of their husbands in prison and also the nationalist movement.35 She was also aware that her husband was carrying out hunger strikes, and her own fasting enabled her to support her husbands’ struggle.36 Women conceptualised their roles as wives in accordance with political demands. For a woman to stoically bear a long separation from her husband, and to face the mental and physical trauma of his imprisonment and disappearance for weeks on end was to undertake another form of sacrifice which showed strength of will, steadfastness of purpose and fortitude in the face of adversity. In the aforementioned case of the imprisonment of a family member in jail (a public site), other members of the family within the domestic sphere were also affected. As Govardhan Singh ‘Swatantra’ in an unpublished article ‘Women’s movement in Kanpur’ commented: There were thousands of women whose sacrifice and contribution has never been mentioned, women who were offering silent contribution. It is hard to realise how women would have led their lives, once their husbands went to jail or were killed. These middle-class women had to face many problems. Not only were they bound in purdah and conservative traditions, but most of them were economically dependent on their menfolk.37

Separation from their husbands increased the social burden on women, and their political responsibility got re-organised by the necessity of them assuming the place of the absent men. Nationalist politics entered the home and altered/affected women’s lives. Women were left to manage household finances and raise children when their menfolk were active in the nationalist movement. Most of these women were in purdah and they felt they could not seek employment outside and had to manage as well as possible. However, circumstances forced a few women to step out into the public domain. P. C. Mitra’s grandmother,38 Sharad Kumari Sinha, was an ordinary housewife in purdah. In 1925 her eldest son Raj Kumar Sinha was imprisoned in connection with the Kakori case.39 Soon after her husband Markhandya Sinha (an accountant in a mill in Kanpur), died from depression due to his son’s arrest. Mitra gives an insight into the changes in his grandmother’s life:

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My grandmother kept strict purdah, so much so that when she visited the balika vidyalaya (children’s educational institution), she used to hang a chadar on the tonga (horse-driven carriage). But once her sons (the second son was arrested in the Lahore conspiracy case) were imprisoned, she left her purdah. She mortgaged her house and struggled financially. She had never travelled alone on a train, but now she started travelling to Lahore for her son’s mukadma (criminal case). Political circumstances and difficult times changed my mother.

Similarly Surya Kumari, an associate of the freedom fighter Bhagat Singh’s mother Vidya Devi stated that: I would not have stepped outside my house if my husband had not served such a long sentence. I felt responsible for my old in-laws and two small children. Though hesitant in the beginning, I started teaching children itihas (history) at a primary school. My in-laws did not appreciate that I travelled alone and taught, but they were majboor (helpless) too.

This respondent was in purdah during the nationalist movement and she suggested that in difficult social circumstances women were allowed to discard their purdah. Adverse circumstances rendered such women vulnerable but not less patriotic. Chail Bihari of Kanpur spent most of his life serving jail sentences and was considered a dangerous political prisoner.40 His daughter Uma Dixit narrated an incident where a woman supporter of the British Raj tried to draw her mother away from nationalist activities: Lady Kailash, the wife of Sir Srivastava and a supporter of British rule, brought to our house expensive clothes made of malmal (silk) and poplin (fine cotton). Her intention was to brainwash my mother, so that she would become a supporter of British rule. My mother refused to entertain her.41

Lady Kailash, a resident of Swarup Nagar in Kanpur, was held in awe by the local residents because of her title and wealth. Her visit to the respondent’s house was a form of social pressure on the family to stop Chail Bihari from further nationalist involvement. It was clear that the visitor tried to use the adverse circumstances of the family to her own advantage. She realised that if she could convince the mother, she could also influence the opinion of the father.

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Uma Dixit’s father Chail Bihari, under the pseudonym ‘Cuntack’, wrote a poem titled ‘A freed prisoner’ in 1941 while imprisoned in Fategarh jail. The poem captures the effect of the nationalist movement on prisoners’ perceptions of their domestic ties and extended social networks. It recollects the time spent in jail and recognises the suffering and sacrifice womenfolk had to endure because of men’s public activities. The poem exhorts Cuntack’s fellow prisoners as follows: Hey prisoners, the time for our freedom has arrived, Our only expectation for days and nights on end. An era was spent in sorrow and happiness, Time and again the tears have flown from our eyes, recounting our tale of sorrow. With stoic hearts we kept our sorrow caged in our bones as we counted our moments of sacrifice, The light of dawn has finally come and our shackles are breaking. Oh! caged prisoners, fly away from this existence, Go to your friends whom you left in this struggle of life, Go where the lamps of hope have been long extinguished and only sorrow and darkness encompass. The time for our freedom has arrived. No friends are left behind, Our houses have been destroyed and mixed with the earth. There is nobody left whom we can say is ours, Oh! man is so destructive. Even though our life is so agonising, It is still attractive. The time for our freedom has arrived.42

Individual freedom and national freedom are linked together in this poem. The first verse expresses the trauma and anxiety a prisoner experiences within the confines of the prison walls. On the one hand, the prisoner is being released and has hope and a new life before him, but on the other hand he encounters misfortune, having lost everything that was dear to him during the struggle. The extinguished lamps and the destroyed houses are symbolic of the dying hope of family members who were left behind. Chail Bihari wrote this poem when many families had their menfolk in prison or in hiding. He was sensitive towards the anguish individuals experienced, his own life being a prime example. He realised that if either of the parents served long jail

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sentences they would miss out on their children’s development. His own children grew up without his love and security. His imprisonment resulted in his family suffering financially and his daughter who had committed herself to the movement remaining unmarried.43 His daughter Uma Dixit remembers a conversation with a close aunt: She told me that I should get married. I said to her that as long as my father was in jail I would not marry. She then said, ‘What if he is in jail for life?’. I replied, ‘Then I will remain without a life partner’.

The respondent and her mother sacrificed not only marriage but also motherhood, economic security and the social status associated with marriage. Uma Dixit sacrificed a stable future in order to protest against her father’s political imprisonment. Her domestic life became closely associated with the political movement. Many women did not see their husbands for long periods of time, and the most unfortunate of them became widows when their husbands were hanged or died after contracting diseases in jail. The stability of women’s domestic lives was wrecked during the course of the movement. However, to keep up the nationalist spirit, they did not complain, but accepted widowhood as a ‘nationalist sacrifice’. Left with no other choice, women faced their widowhood alone. An article in Dainik Jagran titled, ‘Brave feats’44 gives an account of the lives of women who were widowed during the nationalist movement (Dainik Jagran, 18 October 1992, p. 3). It tells the story of a nationalist, Sardar Arjun Singh, who had three sons, Kishan Singh (father of Bhagat Singh), Ajit Singh and Swarn Singh. All three sons were ardent nationalists. The narrative concerns the lives of the widows of Ajit Singh and Swarn Singh. In 1909 Ajit Singh led a peasant movement in Punjab and was exiled from the country by the British government. To alleviate her sadness and loneliness during Ajit Singh’s absence, his wife adopted Bhagat Singh, the son of her brother-in-law. However, Bhagat Singh was hanged in 1931, and because she was not his janma mata (biological mother) the government refused to let her see him before his execution. Her husband returned to India only after Independence in 1947. His wife had waited for 38 years, and when her husband finally returned, he died within four months. ‘Her hopes were crushed. First she lost her dear one and then her husband. Tears had become the destiny for Harnam

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Kaur’ (ibid.). The article was written with the specific purpose of making readers aware of the indirect involvement of family members in the nationalist movement as well as the effects of the movement on their individual lives. The wife of Swarn Singh met with a similar fate. Swarn Singh served numerous jail sentences and when he was finally released, he died at the age of 23 from an infection contracted in jail. His wife is said to have spent the rest of her life in ‘loneliness and heartache’ (ibid.). What kept women’s spirits together was the thought that all nationalist activities were for the highest goal, the independence of India. Women assured both themselves and their menfolk that their sacrifices were supreme. I asked a particular respondent about the most vivid memory she had of the movement. She replied, ‘Till today I remember how great my husband was. Whenever he went to jail, I always thought he had gone for a good cause’.45 Fasting, facing domestic instability and forgoing or losing their life companions without complaint were unparalleled sacrifices made by women in the domestic sphere as forms of resistance to colonial oppression. Women as Mothers Indian motherhood had been subject to British criticism. Mother India, the controversial book by Katherine Mayo (1927), highlighted ‘inertia, helplessness, lack of initiative and originality and sterility of enthusiasm’ as some of the characteristics of Indian men, and was thus one of the many who questioned the adequacy of Indian ‘masculinity’ (ibid.: 24). She identified forced early motherhood as one of the features of women’s subordination in India and an indicator of India’s unfitness for self-rule. Mayo commented: Force motherhood upon her at the earliest possible moment. Rear her weakling son in intensive vicious practises that drain his small vitality day by day. Give him no outlet in sports, give him habits that make him, by the time he is thirty years of age, a decrepit and querulous old wreck—and will you ask what has sapped the energy of his manhood? (ibid.: 25).

The Indian Consent Act of 1891, a colonial move towards prohibiting consummation of marriage by Indian men before their wives reached twelve years of age, was provided as proof of the ‘depraved nature of

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Indian gender relations’ (Sinha 1995). It was argued by the legislators that consummation before a designated age was a feature associated with ‘effeminate’ ‘effete’ and ‘sexually impotent’ men, categories used to express disdain for Indian ‘masculinity’, especially that of Bengali men (Sinha 1987: 226; Nandy 1980: 60). British hegemonic masculinity sustained itself through assigning the colonised a more ‘subordinate’ form of masculinity (Connell 1987: 187; Mayer 2000: 15).46 As Nandy argues, the history of colonisation is also a history of feminisation (Nandy 1983). This feminisation of the nation was accompanied by masculine ‘countertypes’, which incorporated both racial and sexual identities (Nagel 1998: 246; Jayawardena 1995: 3). The ‘Orient, as female, was eroticised and then consumed by those in positions of power. This power depended not only on the construction of the erotic feminine mystique, but also on the deconstruction of the indigenous male identity’ (Alter 1994: 55). The British made a ‘metaphoric connection between heroism, strength and courage on the one hand and virility on the other. Virility, in British terms, was associated with a particular form of sexuality wherein strength and power was a function of potency, stamina, size and appetite … power measured in terms of one’s ability to spend semen’ (Nandy 1980: 56). Constructions of ‘subject’ peoples as passive, in need of guidance, incapable of self-government, and romantic, passionate, ‘unruly’, and ‘barbarous’ were used as reasons for India’s unfitness for self-rule by the colonial officials. Both British men and women, primarily Christian missionary women, were implicated in emphasising ‘difference and sameness’ with Indian women. ‘On the one hand they remained obsessed with charting the aberrant socio-sexual customs, of emphasising the “otherness” of the Indian women in whose lives they intervened. At the same time they offered rescue and relief, extending the hand of sisterhood to Indian women whom they saw as their special responsibility’ (Price and Shidrik 1999: 393). An article by Margaret Cousins titled ‘Women and Oriental Culture’ in the newspaper The Leader highlights some of these issues: In the extremes of honour and serfdom accorded to womanhood, Asia is one. In its worship of the family, in the hopes of the here and hereafter that it places in the child, in its marriage codes, in its illiteracy, in its present renaissance, Asia is one. How can Asia’s gifts be preserved? By bringing together the closest custodians of her inherent life, the woman of Asia,

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that they may discuss their own cultural problems and through a better knowledge of their fundamental differences from women of other lands … may be able to solve their difficulties. Cannot Bharatmata, Mother India, the foster mother of Asia’s culture, cannot she call her daughters to her shores so that in a joint family they may review their oriental qualities and defects … remedy the evils of their illiteracy and infant mortality (The Leader, 9 January 1930, p. 12).

Indian women were held responsible for the moral and physical health of their children.47 So there was a shift from the ‘discursively constructed incompetent masculinity of Indian men to the newly perceived inadequacy of the Indian mother’ (Price and Shildrick 1999: 396). In the light of these debates, it was thus essential for the nationalist leaders to project ‘femininity’ in ways which would enhance the ‘masculine’ or worldly virtues of Indian men, but at the same time also maintain traditional patriarchal relations within the family. When the nation symbolically figures as a large family in which members are assigned distinct roles in accordance with their gender, it needs both masculinity and femininity to sustain itself (McClintock: 1997). It is not surprising that motherhood was given political significance by linking it with the well-being of the Indian nation. Sikata Banerjee (2003) argues that women’s role as a mother intersects with the nationbuilding process in three ways. One, women are expected to bear children, especially sons, who will become the citizen-soldiers ready to defend the nation. Two, they have the responsibility of passing on ‘culture, rituals and nationalist “myths” to the next generation’. Motherhood implied that a woman not only loved and cared for her children, but ‘also produced healthy progeny and educated them to be the future enlightened citizens of India’ (Thapar 1993a: 84). Finally, the concept of motherhood assumes that women will play multiple roles and ‘this can prove useful in shaping political rhetoric aimed at bringing women into the nationalist conflict’ (Banerjee 2003: 177). British attempts to ‘liberate’ Indian women, and their willingness to introduce reforms in Indian society, particularly those relating to the status of women, was questioned by Indian men. Instead, positive qualities of motherhood were given political significance by leaders, reformers and writers. ‘Motherhood emerged as the domain which the colonised could claim as their own’ (Bagchi 1990: 65). The Bengali

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writer Bankim Chandra Chatterjee in his novel Anandamath (1882) ‘popularised the worship of the Mother, as well as female duties and power, thus laying the foundation for women’s active participation in the nationalist movement in years to come’ (Engels 1989: 430). This sanctified and deified image of the mother (as Saraswati, Sita, Lakshmi) was now considered an important vehicle for symbolising a strong civilisation inherited by the nation. For example, Gandhi’s wife, Kasturba, was addressed by the people as ‘Rashtramata’ or ‘mother of the nation’ (Shukla 1938: 212).48 Gandhi accorded Kasturba the position of both his wife and the mother of the nation. For Gandhi, it was essential for women to possess the warmth of motherhood and sustain the spirit of seva, or service to everyone (ibid.). An activist relates to the idea of Rashtramata and comments: ‘Children are rashtradhan (wealth of the nation) and are nurtured by the Rashtramata. We should cherish them and devote our energies to them’.49 The family was thus seen as an integral part of national life, and without mothers and their children, the nation would lose its glory. These ideas were also emphasised through poetry. For example, Rajarani Suri in her poem ‘Matra Puja’ (worship of mother), which was published in Maharathi, re-defines the qualities of Indian mothers: May the womankind of India be the ideal for the world, May India worship its mothers. May our minds be full of knowledge, May our bodies be full of strength and devotion. May we gain happiness from serving our pure husbands, May India worship its mothers. May we fight with anti-nationalist people, May we crush enemies of religion within their homes. Let mothers transform from being weak to strong, and help our nation, May India worship its mothers. (Suri 1927: 624)

This poem exhorts women to change themselves from ‘weak’ to ‘strong’ individuals. They should be devoted to their husbands and should protect their religion and society from dissent and desertion. By acquiring moral, physical and emotional strength women would help themselves and their nation. This poem links the role of women as mothers with women’s support for the nationalist movement.

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Mothers were the sole guardians of children, especially when their men were busy in nationalist activities or serving long jail sentences. They acquainted their children with the popular nationalist vocabulary and with the important goal of becoming enlightened future citizens of the nation. It was also the responsibility of the mother to create a congenial environment within the household and to inform and educate her children on the subject of political events. Sushila Devi Misra, a Hindu middle-class woman, was married to the late Brahmdutt Misra in 1926 at the age of fourteen. She had strong feelings about the importance and responsibilities of mothers, both towards the nation and the domestic sphere (husband and children). While she emphasised the importance of the home and children in women’s lives, she did not hesitate to question her husband’s political integrity. Sushila Devi was confined to the domestic sphere and expressed no displeasure about this, but used her educational qualifications to start working as a teacher once her husband Brahmdutt Misra50 started serving his jail sentence for involvement in the Lahore conspiracy case. However, her employment was terminated because of the revolutionary activities of her husband and her own revolutionary ideas. In relation to her burgeoning political consciousness, she said: In 1928, I was influenced by the political environment. Before marriage Gandhi influenced me, and after marriage, Brahmdutt (her husband) influenced me with communist ideas. My husband used to bring home revolutionary material and I read a lot on Russian history. At this time I had mixed feelings for both the Gandhian movement and the revolutionary movement. In 1929, I was a revolutionary. I realised that non-violence was not effective.51

Despite the influence of revolutionary ideas, being a good housewife gave Sushila Devi personal satisfaction. She saw it as political support for her husband, who was active in the public sphere. ‘I never went to jail, I never led a procession. I was actually a housewife and would prefer to serve my husband’.52 During the movement her husband had remarked to her: ‘Because of you my life has become successful. You are managing the house and my children’. Sushila Devi linked emancipation with the neglect of domestic duties and expressed displeasure at words like emancipation and equality. Ideas of women’s emancipation

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articulated by male and female leaders, ‘did not affect me’. As for other activities, like participating in processions, she said she took part ‘only if I had spare time from my household duties’. It was suggested by her that political duties towards the nation could be fulfilled through the domestic sphere: ‘Having a sense of moral duty towards the nation, a belief in right and wrong, was itself an involvement in the nationalist movement’. Sushila Misra also told me her husband was arrested in 1929, but would not talk to me about an incident in which her husband had at first turned state informer but later refused to help the British government by testifying because she and her mother-in-law had disowned him. A more detailed story was narrated to me by an associate of Brahmdutt, Shiv Verma, who had been arrested for the same offence. Her husband, Brahmdutt Misra, a revolutionary with the Hindustan Republican Socialist Party, was arrested in 1929 in the Lahore conspiracy case along with other revolutionaries such as Shiv Verma, Vijay Kumar Sinha and Surendranath Pandey. They were accused of promoting the idea of a socialist society and a new social order. During the course of their trial they observed Lenin Day, wore red scarves and delivered the following message in court: ‘On the occasion of Lenin Day we express our … congratulations to Comrade Lenin’s success for the great experiment carried out in Soviet Russia. We wish to associate ourselves with the world revolutionary movement: Victory to Workers, Down with Imperialism!’ (Sinha 1984: 316). However, Brahmdutt Misra turned ‘approver’ and gave evidence in return for a pardon from the British government. When I interviewed his former associates, they said that the reason for his political disloyalty was moh (lust) for his wife.53 The wife told her mother-in-law that she did not want to see her husband again, implying that he was not worthy if he was disloyal to his friends and supported the British government. The wife while exercising her moral power questioned her husband’s political integrity and his decision to appeal for a pardon from the British. Shiv Verma was a witness on the morning when Brahmdutt’s mother went to the prison and said to her son, ‘Your wife prefers to be called a widow and I a niputin (without issue, childless). You have put a blot on my name’.54 Such was the impact that Brahmdutt tore the pages off the

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register (which had a record of his statement), and in the end refused to testify in front of the government prosecutor.55 ‘Patriotism is a siren call that few men can resist, particularly in the midst of a political crisis, and if they do, they risk the disdain or worse of their communities and families including their mothers’ (Nagel 1998: 252). Contrary to the common stereotypes of mothers attempting to hold back their sons as they marched off to war, many Indian mothers objected to the pacifism or reluctance of their sons at the time. What is remarkable is that Sushila Devi, an ordinary woman with traditional values, could rise to the occasion and question her husband’s political integrity. What stopped Sushila from narrating the other half of the incident is not entirely clear, even though her role was commendable. It is likely that she considered that it would be inappropriate for a woman of traditional values to criticise her husband, even though she believed that what he did was wrong or was ashamed of it.56 In many Indian households a woman’s power and influence over the male members of the house increases with her age. A wife was expected to be obedient to her husband, but that didn’t necessarily mean blind obedience without any nationalist awareness. Mythologically and in the contemporary world, women as mothers exercise a great amount of power over their children and particularly their sons (Caplan 1989: 285). The imagery and symbolism associated with mothers enhanced their significance for the nation and the struggle for independence. It is thus not surprising that women found it an appealing identity, and that the honour and respect associated with it enhanced their confidence. Women as Sources of Strength and Support Political upheavals shook domestic stability and comfort in the lives of many activists.57 If a woman went out demonstrating in the streets, then someone had to be at home to look after her family. However, the reconstructed nationalist interpretation of respectability and symbolic association of the nation as a large family enabled nuclear households to build forms of neighbourhood nationalism. Children and elderly people were the primary responsibility within families. Children were perceived to be especially vulnerable, since it

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was more difficult to explain to them the reasons for the disruptions in the family. The circumstances were different for each family. For example if in nuclear families both the husband and wife went out to participate in the movement, the responsibility for the children had to be shouldered by neighbours or relatives. I will illustrate this through an example where the movement was a traumatic experience for the whole family. A particular activist narrated the events which she experienced as a child following the hanging of Bhagat Singh and Sukhdev Thapar (Hindu male activists) by the British government on 23 March 1931 at Lahore Central Jail. Soon after, Hindu and Muslim riots broke out in Kanpur city. The respondent’s mother along with some other Hindu women were shifted to a safer site in the Kallu Mal building in Begumgang locality of Kanpur. The father was busy defending people from the riots. The respondent was looked after in a nearby neighbour’s house in Sisa Mau (a locality). When I enquired about any particular incident that had left an impression on her, she said: When I was very young, my mother was locked in the building (mentioned earlier). In the night, I used to get up and enquire from my aunt (neighbour) if my father had come back. When I did not find him, I used to cry. I wanted my mother back but could not understand what was going on. When I asked my father, he used to say, ‘She will come back, she has gone for some work’.58

At other times the neighbours took upon themselves the responsibility of feeding and clothing the children. For example, in another respondent’s family, the father was serving a long jail sentence. The wife shouldered the responsibility of nurturing her children. However, she was also arrested once, and the children were looked after by a family friend, who was not a public activist herself. The respondent commented: I was present when my mother was arrested after addressing a meeting. We children came back home and were fed by our father’s friend, Narayan Prasad Arora. His wife used to buy aata (flour), dal (lentils) and chawal (rice) for us.

On being asked about her feelings towards the help rendered by the neighbour, she responded:

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Participation in the nationalist movement does not have to be ‘on the streets’ only. Krishna Arora (the wife) was serving the nationalist cause by helping another family.59

Some women saw involvement in nationalist activities more as a way of supporting and encouraging their menfolk in jail, while facilitating at the same time their desire to stay close to their husbands. The emotional loyalty of women towards their husbands and sons was an expression of commitment to the movement as well. Often, parental families would disown their sons and daughters for nationalist involvement. While parental support was important, it created generational conflicts within joint-family households. Chail Bihari ‘Cuntak’ and his family were forced by his father to move away and re-settle in Kanpur where the financial condition of the household deteriorated.60 Chail ‘would barely come out of the jail for a few months before going back again’. Kishori Devi, Chail’s wife, told him: ‘You could do something that will at least give food to the children’. The respondent Uma Dixit said, ‘My mother may have had very little money but still she never objected to paying for our education’. At the same time however Kishori Devi was too scared to object to her husband’s activities because she feared that he would send her back to her in-laws in Itawah. By supporting their husbands in nationalist activities, some women could get away from restrictions and curtailing social norms in their in-laws’ homes. The nationalist movement called for upheavals and re-adjustments in nationalist households. Women stoically faced the isolation and hardship which the movement demanded. Women often told their husbands: Chahe hum barbad ho jaye, par mafi mang kar ghar na aana. ‘We might get destroyed, but never ask for forgiveness and come back home’ … ‘I will bear all hardships but will not leave you alone’ … ‘Whatever you do I will never interfere. You carry on with your activities. I will look after the children’.61

The respondents were aware then that deteriorating domestic conditions could put a moral strain on men and force them into seeking pardons from the British government. Through their emotional commitment to their families, they also supported the nationalist cause.

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Many women were in purdah, but that was not seen as a hindrance in providing support for a political cause. In her account Uma Dixit, Chail Bihari’s daughter, stated that her twelve-year-old brother died during the Quit India movement: ‘My father was in the prison. When he was informed he sent a message saying “The whole of India is full of boys. So what happens if one does not exist anymore?” Uma carries on, ‘It was my mother’s courage that enabled her to face it bravely. She often used to cry silently but never in front of us’. Regarding the cruel remark from her father, Uma Dixit herself did not express any resentment or regret. On the contrary, she implied that during the movement the fever of patriotism governed everybody’s heart and her father had made this particular statement to instil courage in her mother and to remind her that all the boys of India were her sons too. The anguish and the sadness of a wrecked domestic life, and a husband who was always in jail affected Kishori Devi more than the colonial crisis did. What was remarkable was her ability and courage to conceal this, while still providing moral support to her husband. About this the respondent asked, ‘Was not so much support itself a contribution to the movement?’ She tried to explain through her own experiences that it was possible to make sacrifices for the nationalist movement without taking on public activities, for example, through activities such as looking after the children of another activist’s family, facing economic adversities and long separations while the husband was in prison, or offering support and assurance to others who were involved in public activities. There were instances where if one family member was in prison, the police would come looking for other family members, break into their houses, sell off their animals, burn their crops and fine them. In such circumstances the neighbours were ready to offer support. Other women would come and praise me for supporting my husband. They used to say, ‘Don’t lose hope. We will all eat together and if we die we will do it together’. Women from all castes used to be present in such moments of crisis.62

The help from neighbours was often spontaneous and unconditional. Mohallas (neighbourhoods) organised themselves to give nationalist

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support. The nationalist consciousness of these neighbourhoods burgeoned at moments of crisis and created an environment of support and concern. In one instance, a Deputy Commissioner was passing through a street with his entourage when his car was hit by a boy’s wooden ball: Immediately the Commissioner ordered his car to be stopped and he sent the accompanying policemen to bring the boy for punishment. The boy panicked and fled into the narrow by-lanes. Some women who were peeping through the doorways had seen what had happened. They secretly took the child and hid him in a tandoor (a domestic oven for roasting food) which was situated on one of the rooftops. They then placed a ghada (a round pan) on the mouth of the tandoor. The policemen searched everywhere but could not find the child and the Commissioner left.63

According to the activist, the women in the mohalla realised that if the child had been caught his parents would have been jailed for showing disrespect towards a representative of British rule. Women were also aware of British brutality, and they sought to both resist it and save other families from being unjustly imprisoned. My mother remembers being told by her mother and other women in the locality: ‘The British are very strict. They are a heartless race and the punishments they give are harsh. They are zalim (ruthless) and think that they are the greatest. If caught by them, one is definitely tortured’.64 This feature was not unique to UP alone. In Bengal, revolutionaries would often go into hiding in villages to escape imprisonment. During the time they were in hiding they were supported by people in the neighbourhood: ‘We used to hide in Khirod Prabha Biswa’s (a woman) house in a village near Chittagong. Other people in the village used to make tea in large cauldrons and call us over. They used to call us athiti (guests)’.65 Although many women never crossed over the boundary from the domestic sphere to the political, they were able to identify with the nationalist movement by giving support to their husbands’ activities, managing the household and the children during an economic crisis, giving moral support to other women activists and looking after their children. The mental trauma of long separations from husbands, and facing adversity created by political exigencies is seen by women in

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terms of their own nationalist contribution. The transformations within the domestic sphere often reflect the intimate connections between the home and the nation, the public and private. (Burton 1997: 941).66 Women’s roles within the domestic sphere were shaped by nationalist politics in the public sphere. Clandestine Activities within the Domestic Sphere The broader social atmosphere influenced two types of nationalist activities that women undertook. First, if family dynamics did not permit nationalist activities, then middle class women who were politically conscious supported the movement in ways that did not challenge the familial norms. These women relied on their own will power and determination to serve the nationalist cause. Their activities supported the dominant Congress ideology of swadeshi through activities such as spinning and weaving khadi or as supportive mothers, wives and daughters. However, there were women who specifically decided to support the revolutionary organisations through subversive acts from within the domestic sphere. In the context of a revolutionary woman’s activities within the domestic sphere in Bengal, Forbes rightfully observed that, ‘where public and private roles were sharply divided by both ideology and physical arrangements, women’s political acts were hidden from the British authorities’ (Forbes 1998: 123). In Bengal, during the protest movement against the partition of Bengal in 1905, ‘Women did not do the same things as men. Instead they used their traditional roles to mask a range of political activities. While the public and private continued to exist as distinct categories, usual definitions of appropriate behaviour in each sphere were re-defined and given political meaning’ (ibid.). The domestic sphere was a useful location for secret activities since the police were less suspicious of women’s activities and were wary of encroaching on the privacy of the domestic sphere, especially since it was seen as the women’s space. In a politically sensitive environment, any encounter between police and women was widely publicised by the media and could lead to further disturbances. Women were primarily involved in holding secret political meetings, shifting people and

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Figure 5.3

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Urmilla Goorha of Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh

Born in 1930. Despite being discouraged by her father Triveni Johari, she participated in the movement along with her mother Ganga Devi. She attended Prabhat Pheris since the age of 8 but her mother was in strict purdah in the domestic sphere and supported the movement clandestinely.

proscribed literature from place to place and passing on information to men who were in hiding.67 Urmilla Goorha (Figure 5.3) and her mother Ganga Devi, Hindu middle-class women from Kanpur district, were both involved in the nationalist movement. As a thirteen-year-old Ganga Devi had been married to eighteen year old Triveni Shah Johari, who was literate in both English and Hindi, while Ganga Devi had received no formal education. They lived in a joint family of sixty-two people, all relatives of her husband. The household was so large that ‘food was cooked in a large cauldron which needed more than two people to lift off the fire’.68 She observed purdah and was confined to her room for most of

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the day. No part of her body could be exposed, especially in front of male members of the family. A maidservant who had come with her from her parent’s house looked after her needs. A new bride was expected to stay in her own room and only come out when some form of domestic help was required of her. Triveni Shah enforced strict discipline over his wife and children and did not encourage any nationalist activities. However, Ganga Devi reacted against her husband’s authoritarianism and encouraged her son, daughter and nephews to support the movement. Once, when her son made a donation to the Congress Committee, the receipt was mistakenly drawn in his father’s name, and when this was found out Triveni Shah, a government employee, was reprimanded at work: ‘His salary was cut by seventy-five rupees and he was nearly suspended’.69 The son was given a beating by his father. Ganga Devi, who witnessed this, advised her son to be cautious, but not to give up his activities. She avoided confronting her husband, and tried to work her way around the familial constraints. She realised that all nationalist activities had to be undertaken clandestinely while maintaining a united domestic facade. For example, her husband was given no opportunity to complain when he wanted his food on time. Her daughter recalls her father’s attitude: My father wanted his food on time. At the same time, he did not want the name of his family to be associated with the movement. When my father came back at 4 o’clock and realised that my mother had gone out of the house in relation to nationalist activities, he would get angry and not eat his food at all.70

In Indian households, typically the eldest earning male member of the family is supposed to be revered, especially by the women. His domestic needs, especially for food and clothes, are well looked after by his wife, sisters or daughters. For example, his clothes for the next day will be washed and ironed and his food prepared on time. For the husband to deny the women the privilege of looking after him by refusing food is taken as a serious protest. Ganga Devi’s consciousness of the political situation and her desire to support the nationalist cause led her to get round these domestic constraints. She started to organise secret meetings with people in hiding when the husband was away at work. Her

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daughter Urmilla remembers, ‘Sometimes my cousins held a meeting in the house from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. when my father was away. My mother used to sit in these meetings and was always ready to help’.71 Ganga Devi contributed khadi chadars and money in these meetings. For example, she gave ten rupees to one of the activists in hiding from the money she had received from her husband for household expenses. She then managed the household with the remaining money since she could not ask her husband for more. She also prepared food late at night for activists who were in hiding. Her daughter said: The people who visited our house were ‘wanted’ by the police. ‘Swatantra’ (a pseudonym used by the person) bhai sahib came to our house and told my mother that he needed food at 3 o’clock in the morning for the other inmates in hiding.72 When my father was asleep, my mother made chappatis using five kgs of flour. After that she cleaned everything so that the mahri (woman who cleaned domestic utensils) did not realise the night activities. My mother gave the gahtari (a bundle) to Swatantra and said to him, ‘God bless you, but I should not see you again in the mohalla’.73

She did not want him to come to the house again because the police could get suspicious and this would jeopardise the domestic order. Ganga Devi also spun on the charkha and she encouraged her daughter to wear khadi saris. An understanding between daughter and mother facilitated clandestine activities so that everything in the house would appear to be normal. Urmilla remembers witnessing her mother’s night-time activities when she was nine. Urmilla was unable to speak for the first nine years of her life: One evening I came down in the night and saw a man with his face covered, talking to my mother at the doorway. She was handing him a bundle of food. I screamed and it was the first time in nine years that I had made a sound. Everybody in the house was baffled.

The fright she experienced made her regain her speech. Since her mother’s activities were a secret, nobody in the house could be given a reason for this amazing change, and it left all the members of the family in a state of confusion. In their role as messengers, women, who were less suspect than men, kept people in hiding informed of political developments. This

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was especially the case with women whose husbands were in hiding from the British authorities. Tulsa Devi used to keep purdah in the joint family of in-laws, and her mother-in-law was specifically opposed to any political activity on the part of her son. However, he continued, in secret, to be politically active. He used to go into hiding in the jungles near their village and emerge when it was safe. Tulsa Devi used to sneak out of the house late at night disguised as a beggar or a religious mendicant and she would give her husband news of the developments of the day, concerning (for example) whether the police were looking for him or whether there was any message from his compatriots. Tulsa Devi was aware of the political upheavals of the time and was a support to her husband’s political practices. She said that the constraints at home did not stop her from moving outside, though she was aware that her movement at night was dangerous: ‘Near the village there were jungles. I used to disguise myself and sneak out at night without informing my in-laws’.74 Often households were used as hideouts by political suspects or political prisoners who were on the run, and usually in these cases, both male and female members were politically involved. Since women were less prone to suspicion they were responsible for moving people in hiding from one domestic space to another. Women effectively used their domestic roles as wives, mothers and sisters for such clandestine activities. For example, Tara Devi Agarwal describes the activities at her residence in Kanpur city and her role in facilitating the movement of a political prisoner. The incident occurred during the festival of Rakshabandan, when a sister ties a symbolic thread of protection on her brother’s wrist. My house in Latouche Road was called ‘Azad’ because Chandra Shekhar Azad used to come and stay there. Once Azad was in my house and the police surrounded the house. Consequently, I pretended that I had to visit my brother to put rakhi on him. I disguised Azad as my servant and with my thali (plate) went out.

Azad, as Tara’s escort to her brother’s home, was transferred from one household to another and managed to escape arrest.75 Durga Bhabi Vohra also played an important role in transporting, shifting and hiding ‘wanted’ revolutionaries from one town to the other.

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During a protest march in Lahore against the Simon Commission, Lala Lajpat Rai, a revolutionary, died as a result of a police assault. His associates Bhagat Singh, Raj Guru and Jai Gopal avenged his death by shooting the British police official Saunders. Durga was assigned the task of bringing Bhagat Singh and Raj Guru to her house in Calcutta. She travelled with them from Lahore to Calcutta with her infant son. The revolutionaries were safer with a woman escort than travelling alone. Another respondent comments on Durga Bhabi Vohra’s activity: ‘The risk was heavy. At any stage she could have been stopped by the police. She would have lost not only her two compatriots but also her own son’.76 Women like them put their lives at risk through their clandestine activities. A Bengali schoolteacher who was addressed by the public as Ma (mother) hid members of the Hindustan Republican Socialist Party in her house in Kanpur in 1930. The police discovered her activities and issued a warrant for her arrest. Ma escaped, but her daughter Khoki was caught and imprisoned in Alipore Jail in Calcutta, where she committed suicide by jumping from the third floor so that she would not be forced to disclose the whereabouts of her mother or other revolutionaries. The narrator emphasised that this tragedy wrecked the mother’s life.77 Women like Uma Dixit, Kishori Dixit and Usha Azad hid proscribed literature for the menfolk, and it thus became difficult for the police to confiscate this literature. ‘My mother used to hide my father’s books and pamphlets regularly. There were difficult times because sometimes my mother used to keep the books with her women friends’.78 The British authorities did not suspect women as much as men, so women would carry about contraband literature and distribute copies to other families in a locality. Sometimes the literature had to be moved from one hiding place to another (usually another house). At times certain menfolk from families in the neighbourhood objected to the hiding of proscribed literature. These men would tell their wives that they would get caught and ask their wives to return the material, which the wives would then proceed to do. Some women hid ammunition, pistols and other kinds of arms for revolutionaries, in the fields or near the house well, and brought them out when they were required by their husbands or their friends.79 Through these clandestine activities, the domestic sphere emerged as a site of both resistance and subordination.80

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However, there were other forms of clandestine activities, which were not confined to the domestic sphere. During the 1942 Quit India movement, when most of the important Congress Party leaders were arrested, men and women worked underground to publish Congress bulletins, published by the ‘shadow’ AICC who were ‘cautious and conservative’ (Agnew 1979: 73). Under these circumstances, … when the press is gagged and news banned, a transmitter helps a good deal in acquainting the public with the events that occur. The Congress Radio was not one only in name. It had its own transmitter, transmitting station, recording station, its own call sign and a distinct wavelength.81

The transmitter ‘Voice of Freedom’, organised by Usha Mehta, started broadcasting on 14 August 1942. She still remembers the call sign: ‘This is Congress Radio calling on 42.34 metres from somewhere in India’. She further recalled: We used to relay news, speeches, instructions and appeals to different classes of women. The news item was a special daily feature of the programme. We used to receive news from all over India through special messengers. The news bulletin was supplied by Sucheta Kripalani and Aruna Asaf Ali who were in charge of the banned Congress.82

The place where programmes were recorded was different from the broadcasting station. Vithalbhai Jhaveri was responsible for recording and Usha Mehta for broadcasting. The news explained what the Congress Party stood for and its aims (Agnew 1979: 74; see also Kaur 1968). Speeches were addressed to both national and international audiences. For example, a national speech addressing the police said: ‘Do you or do you not want to become good citizens of a free India? Do you want to be permanent enemies of India? It is unfortunate that you take pleasure in shooting your own countrymen’.83 The broadcast was made twice daily, in the morning and the evening, in both English and Hindi. The broadcasting activities implied a woman-to-woman public discourse, addressing both individual and national needs. The translation of the news in Hindi was crucial for women confined to the domestic sphere. Usha continued broadcasting till she was arrested in November 1942 (Kaur 1968).

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CONCLUSION The majority of debates and analyses on women’s participation in the nationalist movement have focused on the public sphere. But this was a sphere that all women could not access, and ignoring ‘the thousands of housewives, mostly mothers and wives, who provided indirect support by shouldering family responsibilities when their men went to jail or got killed’ would perpetuate an elitist perspective (Kasturi and Mazumdar 1994: 26). This chapter is based on the autobiographical narratives of ordinary middle-class women from northern India concerning events during 1930–42; women who due to social constraints did not participate in any ‘public’ nationalist activity. Yet their lives within the domestic sphere were affected by political changes in the public sphere and it is important to understand how women made sense of their experiences and activities. Since women undertook significant political activities from within the domestic sphere, such activities cannot be seen as a prerogative of actors within the public sphere only, just as politics cannot be the prerogative of the public sphere only. There were certain ideas that were reiterated in nearly all the interviews that I conducted. First, for these women, invisibility from ‘public’ life did not translate into ‘oppression’, ‘inequality or ‘patriarchy’ in the domestic-private-familial spaces, categories often used in feminist analyses. Judith Allen has argued that feminism should be able to explain women’s experiences in different cultural contexts as well as in different periods of time. She argues that women before the 1950s should not be considered as ‘backward’ if they cannot analyse their situation in feminist terms (Allen 1986: 175). It is a more useful exercise to study the constraints and limitations that groups of women experienced in different cultural contexts, ‘that have made the same basic situations be experienced by masses of women as endurable oppression in some places and periods, in others less so, or not at all’ (ibid.). Though respondents mentioned the constraints of purdah and segregation, they were more interested in what they did despite such constraints, and for these women the domestic sphere emerged a site of both contestation and subordination. Second, women’s nationalist activities within the domestic sphere also suggest that political activism does not always involve engaging

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with formal political machinery—instead domestic spaces can become sites of political practices. Monica Neugebauer in the context of Palestine argues that the ‘politicising of domesticity consists of women baking the bread, preparing the food and tending to the wounded…. These forms of action do not challenge domesticity, but expand the tasks and political significance associated with them’ (Neugebauer 1998: 178; see also Sharoni 1998). In Indian households, women re-aligned their domestic roles to accommodate the nationalist cause. When women lost their family members, they not only suffered grief and sorrow but their responsibilities towards themselves and their nearest kin had to be re-organised. For example, women became responsible for the wellbeing of their aged in-laws when their husbands were imprisoned, especially if they happened to be the oldest of the daughters-in-law. Some women had to earn the family’s livelihood, take decisions about their children’s education and/or deal with loss of income and shortages of food. Very few women returned to their parental homes, shouldering the economic strains in their husband’s homes. Third, women respondents identified a ‘political act’ as one, which supported the nationalist cause or expressed nationalist feelings irrespective of whether it was located within the domestic or public sphere. It was not simply individuals, but entire households who were affected by the political turmoil, and women had to resolve the conflicts and contradictions that any form of nationalist activities created for them. The awareness that they had to survive without inhibiting their husbands’ commitment to the nationalist cause helped in the development of their own political consciousness.

Notes 1 A woman whose love for her husband is unchanging, and who serves her husband throughout her life. 2 “There Were Dreams in Our Eyes”, Saptahik Press, 29 January 1984. 3 On a different tack, Denis Kandiyoti with reference to classic patriarchy has argued that women in Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa and Middle East have resisted new capitalist developments and new roles for women ‘for alternatives that are perceived in keeping with their respectable and protected domestic roles’ (Kandiyoti 1988: 280).

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This was a significant shift because 19th century debates suggest that Indian men did allow colonial interference when it assisted their patriarchal agendas. In 1793 the Restitution of Conjugal Rights Act was introduced into the Indian legal framework. This concept was based on Christian Ecclesiastical Law, and thus was ‘imported to India from England’ (Liddle and Joshi 1985b: 73). This right allowed a husband to file a case against his wife if he perceived that she had not fulfilled her duties as his wife. If the wife refused to agree, she could be punished through imprisonment. This was a fine example of Christian norms on Indian law, and Indian orthodox men welcomed colonial intervention despite its overt discrimination of women (Engels 1989: 428). However, when the British administrators tried to raise the age of consent from 10 to 12 years, it was opposed by Indian men on grounds that the Act implied a threat to female honour. Engels has shown that when legislation threatened gender relations, Indian men opposed it. Kamala Seth was born in 1932 in District Gujarat of undivided India. Her father Raghunath Lal Seth was well educated and had done his BA and LLB from Forman Christian College, Lahore. Kamala Seth attended middle school in District Montgomery in Pakistan. She was sent to the Arya Girls school where she first came to know the details of the nationalist movement from the schoolteachers. I grew up in Ambala district of Punjab. The Arya Samaj was a reform movement among the Hindus in north India. Transcript of interview with Kamala Seth. As she pointed out, his sympathy for ‘the Muslims’ may have been a reflection of British strategies to win Muslim support. At various stages of the nationalist movement the British and Indians working for the British sought an alliance with Muslim leaders. This was a conscious strategy of the British, because while it gained them the support of a minority religious group, it also maintained communal divisions between the Hindus and Muslims. Transcript of interview with Kamala Seth. The report was prepared for the Department of the Provincial Government of Azad Hind and Rani Jhansi Regiment of the Azad Hind Fauj. Manavati Arya was born in Tehsil Bikapur, Zilla, Faizabad. She received her education in Burma and lived in Burma till 1946. She joined Netaji’s Rani of Jhansi Regiment during 1943–1945. Transcript of interview with Uma Dixit. Transcript of interview with Urmilla Goorha. Transcript of interview with Kishori Devi. Transcript of interview with Avadh Rani Singh. Transcripts of interviews with Madhavi Lata Shukla and Brij Rani Misra. Transcript of interview with Avadh Rani Singh.

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They met at Crossthwaite Girls College, Allahabad. Mahadevi was a radical woman of her times and having been married at the age of nine, later rejected her marriage to Swaroop Narayan Verma. Transcript of interview with Kala Tripathi. Transcripts of interviews with Itraaji and Avadh Rani Singh. Avadh Rani Singh had 23 members in her house. Transcripts of interviews with Avadh Rani Singh and Kala Tripathi. Transcript of interview with Itraaji. Transcript of interview with Maazma Begum. Transcript of interview with Kala Tripathi. Transcript of interview with Itraaji. Veena Mazumdar (1979), Devaki Jain (1986), Sujata Patel (1988) and Madhu Kishwar (1985) have provided lucid analyses of Gandhi’s opinion on the contribution of women to the movement. Mazumdar argues that Gandhi’s greatest contribution lay in his ‘revolutionary’ approach to women in society. He respected their ‘personal dignity as individuals without belittling their roles as mothers and wives’ (1979: 58). Jain argues that Gandhi was ‘methodologically’ a feminist because for him the means were as important as the ends. He propagated self-reliance while encouraging the discipline of the mind and body. Patel argues that by introducing the spinning wheel as a political symbol, Gandhi enabled women in the domestic sphere to participate from within the home. In the 1930s Gandhi reconstructed a new model of Indian womanhood to accommodate women coming out on the streets. But women could participate only after giving up sex, reproduction and family life (Patel 1985: 378–85). Kishwar’s analysis has been most critical to Gandhi (1985: 1691–701). Transcript of interview with S. Ambujammal, cited in Forbes 1998. Gandhi, ‘To the Women in India’, Young India, 11 August 1921, CWMG Vol. XX, p. 496. Anonymous letter to editor from Gorakhpur, 24 September 1930. Transcript of interview with Kusum Agarwal. She was born in 1930 in Benares and was encouraged by her paternal uncle to spin on the charkha. Her father, Radha Raman Shah, a zamindar, did not take part in the nationalist movement, but he did not oppose any political activities within the domestic sphere. Kusum Agarwal used to hide the proscribed publication Ran Bheri in her children’s room which was never searched by the police. Transcript of interview with Ganga Devi. Transcript of interview with Srimati Sulbha Gupta, managing director of the Mahila Mandal. In 1905, in Bengal, an important act of protest by women was to conduct the ritual of arandhan whereby women did not light the hearth for cooking food on a publicly named day (Basu 1976: 17; Forbes 1998). At the

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turn of the century the participation of women in the public sphere was limited, and so women could identify with opposition to partition by focusing on an important activity in the domestic sphere. Dharma can be interpreted as a doctrine of righteousness, sacred law, or a general code of conduct which is appropriate to each class and each stage in the life of an individual. Basawan Singh in Bhagalpur Jail went on a fast. His mother was an illiterate woman and was asked by the colonial authorities to persuade her son to end his fast. On her visit to the jail she said, ‘How can I ask my son to violate his dharma. Keeping one’s dharma matters more than life’. The British administration conceded to his demands after 57 days. Transcript of interview with Dhirendranath Pandey, son of revolutionary Surendranath Pandey. The narrative is an extract from Surendranath Pandey’s diary. In other political contexts, fasting and repeated hunger strikes were often used by male and female prisoners to initiate reforms in the jails (Arnold 1994). In Calcutta, Beni Madhav Das the headmaster at Ravenshaw Collegiate school in Cuttack, allowed his students to fast on the day Khudiram Bose was hanged and even joined them in singing patriotic songs (Forbes 1980). Beni Madhav was the father of Kalyani Das who was engaged in revolutionary activities. Transcript of interview with Govardhan Swantantra. The details of the narrative were provided to the respondent by his mother, Asha Lata Misra. Sharad Kumari Sinha was married to Markhandya Sinha, and they had two sons and two daughters: Vijay Kumar Sinha (1905–72), Raj Kumar Sinha (1909–92), Asha Lata (Misra) (1894–69) and Sushila Ghosh (date unknown). A train robbery by revolutionary-terrorists near Kakori, Lucknow in 1925. The four accused were sentenced to death (Pandey 1978: 93). Chail Bihari was a member of the Congress Committee in Uttar Pradesh and married Kishori Devi (Uma’s mother) when he was fourteen, before the civil disobedience movement started. Transcript of interview with Uma Dixit. Transcript of interview with Uma Dixit. The poem is taken from her father’s diary. In Indian society an unmarried daughter comes under a lot of social pressure from the rest of the community. The issue called ‘Swatantra Ang’ (independence issue) was published to commemorate the years of independence. Transcript of interview with Sushila Devi Misra. Mayer argues that both Indian and Caribbean nationalism developed in reaction to British imperialism and to British imperialism’s feminisation

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and infantilisation, both of the colonies themselves and the indigenous men. As the British challenged their masculinity, Indian men emphasised both control over their own bodies and control over Indian women’s bodies, most evidently through control over women’s sexuality (Mayer 2000: 15). These views were articulated by the journal India’s Women published by Church Missionary Society & Church of England, Zenana Missionary Society Archives, Special Collections, Main Library, University of Birmingham. Article written by Shrimanyan Agarwal titled ‘Rashtramata Kasturba’. Transcript of interview with Narayani Tripathi. Brahmdutt Misra , a Brahmin, was born in 1906 in Mahrajpur in Kanpur district. He studied at PPN and DAV colleges in Kanpur. He was involved in the revolutionary movement. Transcript of interview with Sushila Devi. Transcript of interview with Sushila Devi. Transcript of interview with Shiv Verma. Transcript of interview with Shiv Verma. Since omissions and displacements shaped oral narrative, I tried to validate some of this data with the help of official documents. The official intelligence documents also mentioned that ‘Brahm Dutt, son of Ram Ratan and from village Maharajpur, Cawnpore, turned approver but subsequently retracted his confession’. Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Vol. XLIX, Nainital, 20 June 1931. This incident also revealed the silences of memory or the unconscious and conscious repressions in the narratives of the respondent. Nehru’s sister Vijaylakshmi Pandit in her memoir (1979) mentions the domestic strain she experienced during her participation in the public sphere. However, the Nehru women were a privileged elite who could afford attendants and nannies for their children, but ordinary families had different experiences. Transcripts of interviews with Satya Saxena and her mother Vidyavati Saxena. Transcript of interview with Uma Dixit. Kailash Behari Misra and Chail Bihari were renowned in Cawnpore for their provocative songs. Police Abstract of Intelligence, United Provinces, Vol. XLVIII, Allahabad, 1 February 1930, No. 4, Criminal Investigation Department. Transcripts of interviews with Narayan Prasad and Phul Kumari Devi. Also, transcripts of interviews with Tulsa Devi and Uma Dixit. Transcripts of interviews with Tulsa Devi, Uma Dixit and Ganga Devi. Transcript of interview with Kamala Seth. Transcript of interview with Kamala Seth.

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Transcript of interview with Kalpana Joshi. Janaki Agnes Penelope Majumdar in her personal narrative ‘Family History’ which she wrote in 1935 describes the important role her mother, Hemangini Motilal, played in 19th century Bengal in the ‘preservation of the family household’, and how her, and her mother’s, identity was shaped by the political exigencies of the time and her father W.C. Bonnerjee’s political career (Burton 1997: 924). Burton argues that the Bonnerjee house ‘was by no means private space’ and Janaki’s narrative reveals how ‘nationalist politics entered into and shaped the domestic scene’ (ibid.: 932). It should be mentioned that initially it was difficult to obtain these narratives because the respondents were suspicious and hesitant to disclose activities within a conservative household: ‘What we remember is, by and large, though not entirely, culturally sanctioned (even those memories we preserve in the secret recesses of our minds are ideological in that they are what is socially tabooed). Hidden conventions and models shape the “fiction” through which we grasp and project our lives’ (Stree Shakti Sanghatana 1989: 3). Transcript of interview with Urmilla Goorha (daughter of Ganga Devi). Transcript of interview with Urmilla Goorha. Transcript of interview with Urmilla Goorha. Transcript of interview with Urmilla Goorha. The word ‘swatantra’ means ‘independence’, and revolutionaries who concealed their identities from the police usually adopted patriotic pseudonyms. Transcript of interview with Urmilla Goorha. Transcript of interview with Tulsa Devi. The respondent, Sharad Kumari Sinha, also hid Azad. A male respondent and an associate of Durga narrated this incident. Transcript of interview with Ram Krishna Khatri. Transcript of interview with Shiv Verma. Transcripts of interviews with Uma Dixit and Ratneswari Agarwal. Transcript of interview with Sushila Devi Misra. Similarities can be found with Ireland. During the Irish War of Independence 1919–21, with the British army occupying Ireland and imposing martial law on the civilian population, women took an increasingly active part in the Republican campaign. The Irish Republican Army (IRA) engaged in a two-year guerrilla war and relied very heavily on female involvement at two key levels. While outside the home women were increasingly used as intelligence agents, couriers and despatch riders, in the domestic sphere women provided a network of ‘safe houses’ across the country. With tens of thousands of British troops present in Ireland women risked the ever-present threat of attack, arrest and imprisonment. Typical among these was Kathleen Keyes McDonnell, a young wife and

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mother who provided food and shelter for Republican guerrilla fighters. Although operating within the domestic sphere and appearing to perform traditional gender roles, Kathleen exemplifies the blurring of boundaries in nationalist warfare. An active member of the Republican women’s group Cumann na mBan, she devoted her home to the war effort. Despite constant military raids she provided a meeting place for the IRA, a hiding place for secret documents and a refuge for wanted men (Keyes McDonnell 1972; see also Thapar-Björkert and Ryan 2002). Transcript of interview with Usha Mehta. Speech of Usha Mehta at Chandigarh Women’s Conference in April 1993. Manavati Arya attended the conference. Transcript of interview with Manavati Arya. Transcript of interview with Usha Mehta.

Chapter 6

RE-NEGOTIATING THE BOUNDARIES IDENTITY AND DOMESTICITY

I

OF

N THE FIRST half of the 20th century, in the Hindi-speaking belt, Hindi magazines and journals were the first public self-expression of women’s ideas and opinions, and a rich medium through which conflicts and ambiguities about the role of women in the domestic sphere in relation to the national-political movement were expressed. Women’s writings in English and the vernacular languages reflected how intimately connected the personal, the familial and the political were (Tharu and Lalita 1993). The Hindi literature provides insights into the way women in the first half of the 20th century perceived their own roles in relation to education, the women’s movement in the West and the significance of women’s roles towards the nationalist movement.1 All these themes were framed through the emerging dilemmas of colonial modernity and the growing consciousness of the relevance of the domestic sphere. As discussed in the earlier chapters, women used the symbolic nationalist repertoire to carve politicised spaces for themselves in both the public and domestic spheres. Hindi journals and magazines offered women (and men) writers another medium to express themselves, and also to resist and push the boundaries of acceptable discursive traditions. It enabled them to ‘gain a public voice and to expand their horizons and areas of activity’ (Orsini 2002: 244). In aligning their discussions with the nationalist discourse, women contributors also aligned the ‘domestic’ to the ‘nation’. Though the articles were written by educated urban middle-class and elite women, the issues discussed crossed class and caste boundaries.

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Some articles provided a schematic overview of social, political and economic developments or took up one particular issue, for example women’s education, social reforms or the role of mothers in domestic reforms. Occasionally, an article lacked clarity about the specific topic it was discussing. The style of writing varied from gentle urging to emphatic exhortation and was specific to the nationalist period. The significant purpose of prose and poetry was to stir and provoke what was perceived as ‘the populace’ into mobilisation for the nationalist movement. In particular, a concerted effort had to be made to motivate and encourage women who led a segregated existence. Exhortations like ‘Wake up sisters!’ and ‘We will fight together!’ were commonly used phrases that constructed the idea of a shared ‘sisterhood’. The Hindi tracts were similar to Bengali literature of the late 19th century, which can be classified as exhortatory literature. ‘Written as poems, stories and essays, these compositions had the express purpose of reminding the readers of their basic responsibilities in a changing environment’ (Karlekar 1991: 2; Talwar 1989: 207). In this chapter, I discuss the writings of only those individuals who were regular contributors to these magazines.

COVER REPRESENTATIONS The covers of Hindi magazines like Saraswati, Madhuri, Chand and Stree Darpan usually depicted a woman appearing as a re-incarnation of a goddess of Indian mythology. For example, one issue of the magazine Madhuri had a cover image of Kamala, which is another name for Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and the consort of the god Vishnu. The magazine Saraswati was frequently illustrated with a drawing of the goddess of learning and knowledge of the same name. The goddess appears on a white swan, symbolising purity. The scroll in one of her many hands is a symbol of learning, and the musical instrument in another hand represents her prowess in music. These are feminine images signifying powerful roles. Though these images were progressive in the way that they projected women possessed with knowledge and artistic skills (such as music), they could also be seen as being conservative because they create moral and religious boundaries. I looked at seven journals issues covering the years 1909 through 1942. Stree Darpan, which means ‘Women’s Mirror’, was published as early as

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1909, and was one of the ‘three most important journals dealing with women’s problems’ (Rao 1994: 29). It had two women editors, Rameshwari Nehru and Roop Kumari Vanchu, and was financed and published by Kamala Nehru, the wife of Jawaharlal Nehru and the president of the Allahabad District Congress Committee. The two Nehru family women were from elite backgrounds, while Roop Kumari was from a more modest middle-class family. Rameshwari Nehru was the daughter of a renowned leader of the Punjab, Raja Narendra Nath. Articles in Stree Darpan emphasised not only nationalist issues but also women’s rights, and argued for reforms in gender relations. The articles highlighted the need to bridge the gap between men’s emphasis on national rights and their concern for women’s rights. An editorial in the magazine had this to say: Today Stree Darpan has completed twelve-and-a-half years of service to the women in society. This magazine commenced publication when no other magazine dealt with women’s opinions. The only talk during this period was on stree dharma (religious duty of women) and nobody even spoke about women’s rights. However, through our labour we have managed to help the women by trying to introduce reforms for men. (Nehru and Vanchu 1921: 329).

Apart from editorial comments, poems and short stories, Stree Darpan had well-researched articles on women’s roles in the nationalist movement. The issues of 1922 included poems and articles related to the national movement such as ‘The goddess of freedom’, ‘The message of Mother India’ and ‘A national prayer to Indian women’. The editorial influence of the Nehru women was evident, and just as they had set a precedent in women’s activities in the public domain, they also set a precedent in literary activities. In 1923 the journal came to be edited from Kanpur by Sumati Devi and Phulkumari Mehrotra. Grihalakshmi, meaning ‘Lakshmi/Goddess of the Home’, was a monthly magazine published from Allahabad which was edited by the husband and wife team of Pandit Sudharshan Charya and Srimati Gopaldevi. They were both Brahmins and, like almost all other editors, were from the high castes. Pandit Sudharshan Charya had a university degree and was an urban-based middle-class individual. The issues ‘debated in Stree Darpan were echoed in Grihalakshmi and many

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debates were simultaneous, often rebuttals and rejoinders to questions raised in one could be found in the other’ (Talwar 1989: 208). The contents in Grihalakshmi reflect the name of the journal, and articles discussed the appropriate and desirable behaviour and conduct of women within the household. The magazine emphasised that education was important for girls, but that the purpose of education was to make girls aware of their streedharma (religious duty of women) and pativratdharma (duty of women towards their husbands). Another magazine published from Allahabad was Chand (‘The Moon’).2 Its editor, Ramrakh Singh Sahgal, and the manager, Vidyavati Sahgal, were a husband and wife team. In 1935 Mahadevi Verma (the renowned poet and literary figure of north India) was the editor of Chand, and she brought out a special issue called ‘Vidhusi Ang’, or ‘Issue of the Learned’. It contained contributions from educated urbanbased women, some of whom had university degrees. For example, Uma Nehru wrote about ‘The role of women in marriage’, Vijaylakshmi Pandit wrote on ‘Present-day women’s education?’ and Kumari Amrit Lata wrote wondering ‘Will women remain unmarried after acquiring education?’ Letters reporting on current political events (like a nationalist meeting) or social issues (such as new reforms or legislation affecting the status of women) in the form of ‘Notes to the Editor’ appeared frequently.3 Other articles covered a range of issues, from women’s contributions to political developments, and the influence of the wave or lehar of new ideas on women to the historical participation of women. The magazine carried many poems written on issues involving women, like prostitution and widowhood, which were seen as being related to the progress of society. Occasionally Chand would comment on articles in other magazines such as Saraswati that were significant and reflected on new social developments in other magazines.4 Local women’s organisations such as the Prayag Mahila Samiti helped in establishing and supporting these magazines (Talwar 1989: 207). Two magazines published from Benares were Kamala (the lotus, the national flower of India and also a female name) and Arya Mahila. The editors of Arya Mahila5 were Sukha Kumari, Narayani Devi, Sundari Devi and Bindeshwari Prasad. The magazine was associated with the Sanatan Dharma Mahamandal, a conservative Hindu organisation. The

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title Arya Mahila was different from other magazine titles in identifying the Vedic woman as a role model. It was published from 1918 onwards, and carried articles on child development and the Vedic ideals of women, and every page of an issue had a sloka (two to three lines of profound philosophy) in Sanskrit. During the nationalist period the ancient values and roles of women were glorified and the magazine reiterated these dominant ideas. The construction of a specific glorified past facilitated the representation of a particular kind of Indian womanhood (Chakravarti 1989: 78). This representation was based on tradition, religion and mythology, and organisations that were set up to help Hindu women emphasised the higher (Aryan) qualities in women. For example, there were organisations called the Arya Nari Samaj or Arya Mahila Samaj. Kamala was edited by Babu Rao and Vishnu Paradkar, and its annual inland subscription was Rs 4.80, with a foreign subscription being Rs 6.40. This was expensive for that period. Babu Rao was also editorin-chief of the vernacular newspaper Aaj. In many editorials in Kamala, it was reiterated that the aim of the magazine ‘is not only to uplift the Indian womenfolk by freeing them from superstition and many other evils that have crept into the Indian society, but also to remind them of the old Indian culture and tradition of which Indian women were renowned in the past. In emphasising women’s traditional roles in the domestic sphere, the magazine shared many similarities with Grihalakshmi and Kamala. Saraswati was edited by Devidutt Shukla Srinath Singh and Thakur Srinath Singh and published from Prayag in UP. The title referred to the goddess of knowledge and music. It was a monthly magazine and many articles were about contemporary political developments in Europe. The magazine had foreign subscribers and correspondence, and received occasional letters to the editor from European women. There is a possibility that Indians residing in European countries were subscribing to these Hindi magazines too. Sudha, Prabha, Maharathi, Usha and Vidushi were some of the other magazines.6 Sudha, which had a male editor, Dulare Lal Bhargava, was published from Lucknow. The title means ‘pure and holy’. Prabha had a male editor, Bal Krishna Sharma, and was published from Kanpur. Prabha means ‘the light and glory of the morning sun’. Maharathi also

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had a male editor, Ramchandra Sharma, who held a bachelor’s degree, and was published by a woman, Chandra Devi. It was published monthly from Delhi but had contributions from writers in Uttar Pradesh. The title means ‘warrior’, and most covers of this magazine had mythological gods leading their chariots into the battlefield. Similarly, the magazine Usha was published monthly from Jammu and was edited by a woman, Shakuntala Seth, and a man, Ayodhya Nath ‘Vir’. Vidushi, meaning ‘a learned woman’, was published from Benares by Ratneshwari Agarwal, the founder of the Mahila Mandal (women’s organisation) in the same city. The magazine was edited and published entirely by women.7 The magazine was started in 1937 and was regarded by educated people as offering enlightenment to women on Sanskritic traditions. It was published and printed every month on a full moon day, and carried a range of articles from ‘National Awakening and Women’ (1938) to ‘Man and Woman’ (1940). The editorial board comprised three women: Ratneshwari Agarwal, Lalibai Pandey and Kusumlata. A contemporary commented on the magazine: This was the first magazine which came about as a result of women’s awakening. The moral of the magazine was ‘Amar jyotimah jeevan ka shubh sandesh sunayege: Vidushi ye mahila samaj ko vidushi nitya banayege’ (We will achieve the goal of a long-lasting life: the magazine Vidushi will make every woman learned).

This extract is taken from a special issue of the magazine brought out to celebrate the golden jubilee of the establishment of the Mahila Mandal (1934–1984). The issue was published in 1984 titled: ‘Commemorating Those Years’. Another magazine called Shradhanjali (offerings) was brought out on Ratneshwari’s death. It was also edited by a woman, Lalibai Pandey, and published by Shri Sharda Mehta from Benares.

WOMEN’S EDUCATION The educational patterns of women readers and writers varied on a national level. The articles were mainly written by urban Hindu middle-class men and women with formal education in Hindi and

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often in English. Some male and female writers were educated to the postgraduate level, and a few up to the university level. As Jayawardena comments, although women’s education in India (and many parts of Asia) was geared primarily to providing good wives and mothers ‘for those men who had risen on the economic and social ladder of colonial society’, it also facilitated women’s own literary activities (Jayawardena 1986: 16). The obituary of a female writer in an issue of Saraswati actually emphasised the writer’s educational qualifications: With utmost grief, I have to inform you (readers) that Kumari8 Savitri Devi is no more with us. It would not be wrong to say that in our Akhil Bharatvarsha Manvachari Viswakarma society, Kumari Savitri occupied a high place. In May the lady had been successful in her M.A. examination and had taken it in Arthashastra (Economics)’ (Vishvakarma 1935: 253).

Some men and women writers were also active in the public sphere and articles in the magazines would reflect their active engagement with the nationalist movement and growing political consciousness. For example, the magazine Chand commented in its columns under ‘miscellaneous events’: Srimati Sitadevi, editor of Mahila Sudhar (Women’s Reforms) published from Kanpur, has to undergo one year’s imprisonment in Lucknow Jail for her service to the nation (anonymous in Chand, April 1931: 737).

As Jayawardena comments, although women’s education in India (and many parts of Asia) was geared primarily towards creating good wives and mothers ‘for those men who had risen on the economic and social ladder of colonial society’, it also facilitated women’s literary activities (Jayawardena 1986: 16). These women’s ideas were transmitted through speeches and women’s meetings to ordinary middle-class women who had little or no formal education. Spokeswomen at the national and local levels wanted to share their ideas with other women. Most of the women’s magazines were published from large cities like Allahabad, Benares, Kanpur and Lucknow, where women’s education was more developed and the editors and readers were urban-based middle-class men and women.

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Table 6.1 Number of Women in the Educational System in India, from Academic Year 1923–24 to 1928–29 1923–24

1924–25

1925–26

1926–27

1927–28

1928–29

College 1,622 1,807 1,881 1,933 2,099 2,280 High School 44,170 47,290 51,560 54,826 62,776 69,549 English Middle School 31,011 31,630 34,800 36,605 36,867 40,565 Hindi Middle School 70,734 69,153 87,424 93,416 99,365 101,509 Primary School 1,264,814 1,324,002 1,434,639 1,549,281 1,681,414 1,800,073 Source: (Nigam 1934: 325).

A general picture of the level of female education (from a national survey) in India during the 1920s can be drawn from Table 6.1. It appears that of all the girls who started primary school by the 1920s, only about 11 per cent continued their education till middle school. The dropout rate at this stage was 89 per cent. The majority of women who continued their education went to Hindi rather than to English middle schools. However, the figures show that the dropout between middle school and high school was only 35 per cent, but this increased to 96 per cent when it was time to go to college. Education up to primary school was regarded by most families as sufficient, so only a small percentage went on to middle school. However, once the families (a small ratio) encouraged their daughters into further education, women would carry on until high school. The high dropout rate at the college level suggests that only women who had the ability and who could afford the expenses acquired university education. Also, by the time women reached university level they would be married and a lot was dependent on the support they received from their marital homes.9 Most of the respondents I interviewed in UP were educated to the primary school level. Some respondents mentioned that though little education was given to girls, their natal families supported their primary school activities.10 However, some were forced to discontinue their schooling after primary school by their families, ‘on the grounds

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that it was enough for a girl to read and write’.11 Some respondents reached middle school (eighth class was referred to as middle school by respondents) and high school. Some respondents’ husbands, who were educated till the postgraduate level, taught them up to high school and encouraged them in further education.12 My maternal grandmother, Iqbalwati Handa, did not receive formal education at a school but was educated at home up to the high school standard by a German governess. The few respondents who acquired university education were supported in their parental homes as well as in their husbands’ families. Several themes emerged in the magazines on which both male and female writers expressed concern. The overarching context was the nationalist movement and there were debates and rebuttals on women’s roles towards the nation. An idea that was repeatedly emphasised was the importance of women’s education for national development. Education was important for producing good mothers and wives and it would enable women to bring about reforms within their homes. Also it would enable women to produce and educate ‘healthy progeny’ for the nation. This would align their domestic responsibilities more closely with political demands of the nationalist movement. To achieve these objectives, male and female writers referred to the ‘glorious past’ and contrasted that with the current state of ‘ignorance’. Some urgency was expressed in these writings to ‘awaken women from their slumber’, often reproducing Orientalist stereotypes of ‘Eastern’ women as passive, ignorant, weak and needing to be enlightened. At the same time, selected constructs were borrowed from the West, particularly those that were seen as significant by writers for national regeneration. Women’s contemporary position was judged with reference to their status in ancient times (Chakravarti 1989). Resorting to the tenets of ancient culture provided a partial solution to some of the anxieties about modern changes. Women of ancient times were viewed as independent, brave and capable of making decisions themselves. By contrast, present-day women were seen as timid and afraid of struggle. The aim was to revive women’s courage in order to aid the nationalist movement. For instance, an article in Stree Darpan, entitled ‘The bad condition of women in India’ referred to various activities in ancient times:

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In ancient times women were so brave and full of vigour that they used to go in the battlefield and fight side by side with men and fighting the enemy with the sword was an easy task for them. However, these days women get cold feet with the thought of war. Women wake up! Mothers leave your slumber and try to liberate your country from dasta (slavery) (Devi 1922: 174).

The main reasons for women’s present position were perceived to be lack of education and enthusiasm, especially in the case of mothers, as well as the apathy and physical weakness of women in general. The uneducated and ignorant status of women was one of the main causes why ‘our nation is under the control of foreign powers’ (ibid.: 172). Also, lack of enthusiasm, apathy and timidity of women would not enable them to ‘liberate your (their) country from dasta (slavery)’. Education of women was articulated as the sole remedy to help them achieve a status similar to that of women in ancient times, for women to contribute to the nationalist movement and for their own upliftment. As Vir Talwar argues: The nationalist movement also helped the issues of women’s education to become important. Stree Darpan advocated an education that was geared to meeting the needs of the nationalist movement, in other words a social and politically sound education. The women’s movement of the time (recognised this fact and) linked the issue of women’s education to that of women’s liberation (Talwar 1989: 221).

Articles were written with the aim of guiding women in their goals and duties (kartavya) towards the nation, to ‘awaken the women’. It is time to forsake a part of your peaceful domestic existence and show the world that when the time and need arises, then women of India, like men, can make the biggest sacrifice for the freedom of their nation. The nation in which we are born, whose wheat we have eaten and on whose soil we have played and grown up—that very nation’s slavery and subordination would affect us (Devi 1940: 167–68). If we have to give any meaning to our existence, we will have to free our nation. An existence that cannot be used for the nation is equivalent to one of the small creatures that take birth in this world and somehow manage their lives. If our lives are spent within comfortable surroundings and for our own satisfaction, then there is no difference between the ‘insects’ and us (ibid.: 167).

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Women were expected to develop an awareness of the political condition of their country through ‘rashtriya kam’ (national work). Though no specific sacrifice was asked of women, it was expected that women, like men, would not hesitate to undertake any form of activity and face its consequences, whether in the public or domestic spheres. Women’s lives would become meaningful (sarthak) only when they were used to liberate the nation. For an effective nationalist contribution, women were expected to give up their laziness and a comfortable domestic existence. Exhortatory phrases such as ‘an existence that cannot be used for the nation’ or ‘our lives are spent … for our own satisfaction’, tried to persuade women to give up what were presented as self-centred concerns. It was suggested that as long as the Indian populace was under colonial rule, society would not be able to get rid of its harmful customs and malpractices, and as long as society was not reformed, ‘women will not be able to progress either’ (ibid.: 168). In other words, it was argued that women could help to promote their own progress and enlightenment by contributing towards the movement. It was also the main issue for the emerging women’s movement, which saw the links between self-emancipation and national emancipation (Chatterjee 1989: 246). However, self-emancipation was projected as non-antagonistic and even though women’s organisations such as the All India Women’s Conference demanded adult suffrage and reservation of seats, they were hesitant to come across as anti-male (Chattopadhyay 1983; Jayawardena 1986). It was also one of the reasons why they hesitated to use the word ‘feminist’, because of the word’s association with the West (Forbes 1982). The ‘West’ was a reference point, and the progressive character of Western women was used as an appropriate role model to encourage uneducated Indian women to become independent and self-reliant. Kumari Jayawardena notes the influence of ideas from different parts of Europe upon writings in Asia: While many of these publications discussed traditional women’s topics, they could not avoid getting involved in the ongoing debate on women’s subordination. In many cases they reported developments in the sphere of women’s emancipation in other countries. Egyptian women, for example were told of innovations and legislative reforms in Turkey; such journals also informed their readers about the suffragist and feminist struggles in Europe (Jayawardena 1986: 17).

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By referring to the changes and development in women’s status in other countries, an international network of support was built by writers in India and other Third World countries. For example, the suffragist struggle in the early 20th century was cited to encourage women in other countries to fight for similar rights. References were drawn with other countries, and in an article in the magazine Kumari Darpan entitled ‘Message to Indian Women’, women were chastised by a male writer for their lack of awareness and inability to act independently. Also current social developments were questioned: In contrast to other countries, women in India are without any ambition and neither doing anything to come out of seclusion, nor to educate and be independent, for parity with men. Leave aside uneducated women, even the educated ones go about in closed carriages and seem to be doing nothing for the education of the illiterate. Instead, they are looking to men for direction. One who wants to improve her status to obtain equal rights will have to work hard and face difficulties herself. To be at the mercy of others will be a mere illusion. So if women have to progress and be independent as women in other countries, they will have to become self-reliant (Sataybhakt 1920: 331–37).

But many magazines were aware that ‘as compared to men’s education in India, there is considerable lack of women’s education in the twentieth century’ (Nigam 1934: 325). In the context of Bengal, Karlekar identified a gap of nearly three decades between the education of men and women, and it was ‘only around the 1840s that schooling for girls gained acceptability among the middle classes’ (Karlekar 1991: 6). Initiatives for the education of women were taken by two national organisations, the Women’s Indian Association (which began in 1917) and the All-India Women’s Conference (formed in 1927). In north India, Annie Besant started an institution for girls in Benares called the Besant Kanya Mahavidyalaya. In Mirzapur the Bharat Mahila Parishad encouraged educated women to come and teach in schools (Talwar 1989: 222). The new political situation also encouraged both male and female nationalist leaders to take a closer look at the ‘educational and social reforms for women, since they formed an integral part of modernising the country and society’ (Agnew 1979: 104).13 Education was expected to help women adapt more easily to the changing social, political and

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cultural environment. From the 19th century, economic changes in the public sphere led to the emergence of a male middle class ‘caught in the stormy days of social and occupational change’ (Karlekar 1991: 7). These men required ‘intelligent companions’ to help them cope with the pressures of change. Specifically in relation to Bengal, Borthwick has argued that the professionally aspirational bhadralok (upper caste middle-class Hindu men) felt the need for educated wives who would also be good mothers and combine this with a ‘Victorian woman’s ability to co-operate in the furtherance of their husband’s career’ (Borthwick 1984: 26–45).14 The ‘Victorian patriarchal ideals’ of companionate marriage, introduced by the British in India in the 19th century, were adopted by both Bengali male and female reformers (Chakrabarty 1993: 2). Moreover, the bourgeois Victorian domesticity emulated by the bhadramahila (female version of the bhadralok) was to be combined with the qualities embodied in Hindu goddesses such as Sita and Lakshmi. In particular, home science was intricately linked with nationalism, and as Hancock has argued, ‘in order to do the work of nationalism, women themselves had to be reformed and re-domesticated under the regime of home science’ (1999: 152).15 The emerging discourse on education perceived women’s position through ideas of ‘progress’ (auniti) and ‘regression’ (avnati). Progress in ‘present times’ (vartman) was associated with modernity (aadhunikta, awarchin and naya) and a form of education which removed the extreme imbalances between a man and woman and helped in the development of the nation (Chand, January 1938, p. 267). A ‘modern’ (aadhunik) woman was expected to bridge the existing gulf between the educated man and his uneducated counterpart, but without displacing genderspecific roles. Moreover, women’s education would facilitate the construction of a strong and stable national identity. It was argued that a nation was progressive when women acquired qualities such as patience, devotion and self-sacrifice, and regressive when women were ‘drowned in ignorance’. The author Sehgal quotes Aristotle, and claims that, ‘On the auniti (progress) or avnati (regress) of women is dependent the nation’s progress or regression’ (Sehgal 1921: 301). She goes on to argue that, ‘the historian Gibbon, has mentioned that the Romans unlike the Greeks used to treat their women well and this is one of the reasons

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why the Romans became powerful and the Greeks had to bow in front of the Romans’ (ibid.: 302). What is important is that the writer identifies the qualities that Roman women nurtured when Rome was on the path of utkarsh (fame, prosperity). The women were pativrata (devoted and loyal to the husband), swalamban (without greed), swarth-tyag (self-sacrificing) and tharya (patient). However, the writer argues that during the downfall of the Roman Empire all these qualities were replaced by bad behaviour and ignorance (ibid.). Similarly another article in Stree Darpan entitled ‘The importance of women’s education in the eyes of the nation’ argues that a nation’s strength and weakness rests upon the education of its women citizens. Sehgal argues that in the view of learned men: Two things are closely joined together, the education, the training and development of women; and the greatness of a nation. When those women were the Indian mothers, heroes and rishis (religious mendicants) were born and now out of child mothers, cowards and social pygmies come forth (ibid.: 301).

Women’s education would lead to national regeneration and the elimination of the practice of child marriage, which was seen as a cause for the degradation of Indian women and a reason for India’s political dependence. The reference to ‘cowards’ implies an inability to defend the country from the British. This was a contentious issue since early motherhood as a result of child marriage was also viewed by the British as one of the causes of the depraved nature of the Indian men. In her controversial book Mother India, Katherine Mayo highlighted some of these characteristics to facilitate her argument on the backwardness of Indians (Mayo 1927: 25). At the same time, men’s ambivalent attitudes towards their own women was also questioned. The articles in the magazines commented on the disparity between the ideas articulated by men and the actual implementation of those ideas in practice. People in their speeches say that education for women is important, but when they come back home, I don’t know where it goes. If the woman is educated till second class she is considered to be too educated

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and intelligent and the next task for her is to get married. However, if she gets too educated then she may not be able to make chappatis for her in-laws (Gupta 1925: 164).

Moreover, during matchmaking men looked for educated women as wives for their children. However, these same men did not consider the uneducated status of their own daughters inside their homes (ibid.: 165). It was also argued that the emerging imbalance in education between men and women had to be altered to facilitate a more progressive future. If men and women are not equally educated, then love and mutual understanding are not possible and there would be perpetual fights in the house. Thirdly, men also assume that uneducated women are powerless and have to be controlled. Because of women’s ignorance, our nation is under the control of foreign powers (Devi 1922: 172).

In another editorial in Chand entitled ‘The importance of women in national life’, different roles for women are considered. For example, as a mother the woman gives birth to a man; as a wife she becomes his consort; and as a sister she offers him companionship. The sacrificial woman in every home is the moving spirit behind the three stages that the man has to go through in his life (Sehgal 1932: 12–14). The author says that God has put heavy responsibilities on the shoulders of women whom the men, in the East, do not hesitate to ‘crush under their feet’ (ibid.). One should not forget that if man is the creation (kirti) of God, then the woman is the idol/image (murti) that he should worship. The importance of woman in national life is greater than that of the man, and every man should reconsider his behaviour towards women. The current and future situation of the country was dependent on men’s attitude and behaviour towards women. While a correct balance in the domestic domain was seen as important, at no point was the relationship between the sexes projected as antagonistic. Problems within the domestic sphere can be resolved and, as the writer puts it, ‘If the man deems it desirable to think of his wife as a horse then he should be prepared to become another horse’ (Sushma 1943: 95). In other words, if the man expected physical work from his wife, then he should also be ready to undertake physical work when required. The domestic sphere is like a rath (carriage) with two

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wheels, and unless both the wife and husband balance the workload between them, the domestic sphere will not run smoothly (Khanna 1925: 86). It was reiterated that time ‘has washed away man’s godlike position and woman’s position as a slave. Now both will have to behave like human beings’ (Verma 1937a: 383–84). Domestic politics and public participation were seen as mutually supportive. Women writers argued that if they were ‘equal participants’ in the public domain then they should have equality at home as well. While some of these discourses on domesticity questioned men’s attitudes and contributions within the domestic sphere, during this period there was another conflicting discourse that emerged in relation to the appropriate curriculum for women. While some writers expressed concern with the uneducated status of women, others argued that education was ‘incomplete’ and ‘too little’ while others questioned the appropriateness of ‘modern education’ influenced by the West. Proper education for women, it was argued would allow women to acquire a ‘consciousness’ as well as assist in ‘achieving those rights’. A ‘well educated’ woman, it was argued, would also be able to build an ‘equal’ life with her partner in the domestic domain, and this would also assist her in achieving her national goals. It was believed that it was not too much education but ‘too little’ education, which was to blame for inappropriate training of women, and that if particular subjects were encouraged, they could enhance domestic skills. An article in Stree Darpan titled ‘Women’s Education’ argues that: Those of us who oppose women’s education say that women tend to become very liberal after education and do not bother about their husbands’ welfare. They get involved in various kinds of fashion and even start considering household work as degrading. I think all these qualities do not generate from education but little education (Khanna 1925: 84).

The writer expresses the view that women who have ‘little’ education can read a few novels or a few ghazals (expressive Urdu poetry) but cannot concentrate on books related to difficult matters. The author wants women to have knowledge of their religion so that they can realise their kartavya (duties) and domestic responsibilities (ibid.: 85).16 An aspect that comes across in this article on women’s education is that the incorporation of new subjects in the curriculum for women could re-invigorate the domestic sphere, excluding ‘subjects that are not essential and useful for

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them because, of various reasons, women can neither spend a lot of their time in studying, neither can they put their minds through a lot of strain and neither can they do physical work for a long time’ (ibid.: 89). For example, it is stated that: ‘Bhugol aur Itihas ki yadi unko shiksha di jaye to grihasthi ki karyavahi badi sugamta se bahut thode vayay se chal sakti hai’ (ibid.: 86). This means that if women are given education in geography and history, then they can run their household matters more efficiently. An editorial informed its readers of a new university for women called the ‘Prayag Mahila Vidyapith’, and at a meeting of men and women held in the Prayag municipal office, a curriculum was drawn up in which only national languages would be used, mainly Hindi and Urdu. The compulsory subjects included history, geography, housework and cleanliness, preparing food, spinning the charkha and first aid. Other subjects like physics, botany and chemistry were optional (Nehru and Vanchu 1922: 168). So it was important for women to be ‘well educated’ rather than just ‘educated’ or ‘less educated’ (Pandey 1939a: 23–24). Today’s scientific age has produced in the woman a consciousness about equality with man. The slogan ‘Independence is a man’s birthright’ which was only used in the political sphere against the British, is also used within the homes. For women, education is the only tool for achieving those rights, which she should have got since her birth. However, both men and women should build a prosperous domestic life, which also assists us in performing our duties towards the nation. This can only happen if we are ‘well educated’ and not simply ‘educated’. Men should also change their ideas (Sushma 1943: 95).

A well-educated women or a grihalakshmi would fulfil her political obligations towards the nation as well as facilitate the process of achieving rights for women. Education would facilitate ‘swaraj at home’ and ‘swaraj for India’. Links were drawn between Indian women’s uneducated and pathetic (shochiniye) status and colonial rule. The retrogressive effects of colonialism and lack of education were given as the main reasons ‘why it is expected of women to also endeavour to liberate their own country’ (Devi 1940: 167). However, Gyanendra Kumari Sushma in an article titled ‘Women’s education’ in the magazine Usha questions the appropriateness of geography and history as subjects. She argues that civics, politics,

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geography and economics are part of a ‘modern’ curriculum which does not include domestic subjects. Since religious and domestic subjects are completely neglected, women have forgotten their true national role of being able mothers and successful housewives and instead they have moved towards ‘Western unbridled freedom and fashion’.17 She argues that the greatest harm ‘modern’ education has done is to remove selfdiscipline and self-control from the lives of women and not prepare them to enter the life of a householder (Sushma 1943: 94–95). Loss of self-control was associated with women losing their virginity, and writers urged that ‘we women should keep our virginity and after marriage recognise the importance of a wife’s role as well as protect the family honour. These are the duties towards the nation’ (Kibe 1935b: 581). Modern education was seen to encourage fashion and lack of physical decorum among Indian women. Fashion, particularly, was associated with bringing superficiality into people’s lives, encouraging consumerism, disassociating women from their modesty and encouraging people to view them as commodities. While male and female writers realised that lack of education or ‘little’ education was not good for women, they also feared that ‘modern’ education would make women (especially younger women) try and subvert the old established values, becoming more fashionable, demanding liberal sexual relations and more economic freedom, and not recognising their duties as wives and mothers in married life. Interestingly, women themselves were held responsible for their current situation, and were also expected to bring about appropriate changes themselves. It was also suggested that women could not depend on men for change, since men set up most of the institutions, including purdah. The emerging identity was of a ‘domestic woman’ who was not only ‘well’ educated, but could also maintain the key tenets of Indian culture, primarily through her roles as a good nurturing mother and dutiful wife. Through these domestic values the women could both educate her progeny to be the future enlightened citizens of India and politically align them to the movement from within the domestic sphere. While it was acceptable that women would become as ‘self-reliant’ and ‘independent’ as their Western counterparts, they were not encouraged to become ‘modern’. A model of ‘femininity’ which was progressive but not Westernised was emphasised. Unhappiness was

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also expressed on the idea of women going abroad to take diplomas and degrees, because it could change women’s priorities. For example, it was argued middle-class women with degrees who were exposed to Western culture desired men who were well placed in society and who earned large sums of money. Moreover, younger ‘educated’ women formed attachments with either married or older divorced men. It was argued that some women did not hesitate to marry men who had divorced their wives, especially women who could not come up to their high standards. The solution to these social issues was seen as acquiring a right balance between being ‘educated’ and ‘well educated’. In the next section I will elaborate on the concerns of both male and female contributors regarding social changes (parivartan), particularly in relation to fashion, norms and lifestyles that were seen as originating in the West.

WESTERN VALUES AND INDIAN CONCERNS: FASHION, BEAUTY AND LIFESTYLE Though advanced material progress and organisational skills of the European nations and the United States were viewed as having a lot to offer to the rest of the world, not all ideas from these advanced societies were seen as useful for India. Nandgopalsingh Sehgal in his article Bhartiye Nari ka Sandesh (‘The message of Indian woman’) writes that people who desire the good of their nation have viewed these new changes and their influence on women with great suspicion. This is primarily because women’s role in keeping society together is seen as being more important than that of men. He suggests that, ‘Till now the influence of this lehar (wave) of western ideas was primarily on men but since the last 10 to 15 years it has started affecting women too (Sehgal 1937: 256). While acknowledging that an individual should change with the demands of different situations, and that change is essential for any individual who wants to achieve her/his goals, he however states that: ‘It is essential that the change should be progressive and not retrogressive. We consider “change” and “progress” to mean the same thing and thus the consequences will push us towards prosperity (ibid.)’. In Indian society, it was argued, the primary role of women was to manage the household and look after the children. In Western nations,

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by contrast, the nature of women was inclined towards jobs and leading an unrestrained life. This freedom was not suitable for women in Indian society as it lacked a specific goal and encouraged women to be lax towards household duties (ibid.: 257–59). Moreover, in current times, India had to deal with other problems of colonialism and financial deficits. Women also shared these views: From Europe originates the emancipation of modern womanhood and the women who are free in India today owe much to the example and influence of their western sisters. When this has proved advantageous in allowing Indian women to exercise their intellectual powers, there has also been a curse attached to it, under which the unbalanced have fallen. In a frenzy of achieving freedom they have sought to imitate the western women in every way, sometimes totally unsuitable to the oriental character and life. Seeking unfettered liberty the Indian woman have lost sight of the objective in a frantic desire for western moulding. They have forgotten that the East too, has much to teach the women of West, each can borrow from the other, but the absolute submergence of one into the other is bound to lead to disaster. This craze for Westernisation in all its superficiality, this loss of individual outlook has a far-reaching effect and it will be a herculean task for many generations yet to come and combat (Ila Sen’s ‘The West’ in Amrit Bazaar Patrika, cited in Sehgal 1937: 257).

Sister Nivedita18 compared the Western emphasis on the development of qualities associated with a wife with the Eastern emphasis on motherhood. The land that provides grain and clothes is referred to as motherland and the cow that gives milk, ghee (butter) and other good products is called ‘mother-cow’ (gaumata). In the West the country is referred to as ‘fatherland’ but in India it is referred to as ‘motherland’ (Sehgal 1937: 258).

In the shastras, the mother is respected more than the guru, acharya or the father, who are all males. Sister Nivedita remarked: ‘In India respect for the mother is particularly found amongst great men’ (ibid.). She narrates the incident of a Bengali judge who was highly regarded by the British for his decisions. It is believed that he was lying on his deathbed when he heard that his mother who was on her way to see him had hurt her ankle. Even though he was weak, he dragged himself to his mother and washed her feet with his ‘warm tears’. He felt bad that his mother had to suffer so much (ibid.).

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Thus to achieve good status, an Indian woman, unlike a woman of the West, has to make a lot of sacrifices, one of them being complete loyalty to her husband. Women readers were urged not to lose the glory of their motherhood since ‘it is the home not the factory that fills the life with inspiration’ (ibid.: 259). While the economic independence and social and political freedom of western women was appreciated, it was seen to be less fulfilling than the domestic prosperity of an Indian home. It is also suggested that though economic earnings will give Indian women independence and power, the power exercised by women within their homes is greater and more satisfying … economic earnings distance women from those ‘higher natural values, which give life its real meaning together with economic independence’ (Shastri 1935: 214). Questions such as ‘What is liberty?’, ‘What is progress?’ and ‘What is meant by independence?’ were regularly addressed in the magazines. Freedom in every sphere of life was seen as good as long as it did not adhere to Western assumptions: I would like to state humbly that if this tide of independence keeps flowing westwards, then it is going to prove highly detrimental to our Indian civilisation. The Western and the Oriental principles of freedom are vastly different. Western modes of freedom are unrestrained, lacking dignity and un-progressive. The freedom of the West is like a cyclone, sweeping before it the inherent and natural qualities of womankind like softness, gentleness, shyness and self sacrifice (Shastri 1935: 214).

One such idea of unrestrained freedom and lack in dignity was in relation to fashion. Excessive fashion was associated with ‘modern Western’ ideas which had infiltrated society, and was regarded by both men and women writers as leading women astray. Fashion and Beauty Several writers concurred that recent trends in fashion were distracting women from their traditional duties as good mothers and wives, making them over-indulgent and acquiring a life of sloth and laziness. Accompanying the critique of Western ways was a critique of social habits in Indian society. If fashion was regarded as Western and bad, then Indian women were also held responsible for adopting it (Bhuradia 1940: 57). Habits borrowed from the West were criticised:

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Figure 6.1 Two Representations of Beauty in Maharathi The representation of beauty in India was the bhadramahila, who was fully clothed, adorned with expensive ornaments and appreciated the charm of keeping purdah. This was contrasted with the Western model of beauty, which was projected as a woman without any clothes and who unashamedly/shamelessly appreciated the male gaze.

In old historical times it is true that a lot of effort was made to impart education to women. But it is also true that at that time women did not go to schools in high heeled boots, thin saris from Manchester and light umbrellas in their hands. The kind of education imparted to women with the help of religious and philosophical books, not even half of that is taught in schools today (Sehgal 1932: 14).

Fashion was not only about Western ideas, but was also analysed as a form of colonial exploitation. Western goods such as ‘high heeled

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boots’ or ‘thin sarees from Manchester’ were displacing Indian goods. Contributors encouraged the use of indigenous goods like khadi saris and derided the consumption of colonial goods that further drained the economy of the Indian colony. Some articles by women writers criticised other women for believing that ideas of fashion meant freedom and ‘unrestrained wildness’: Purity of soul is losing its importance in front of bodily beauty, which seems to have become the sole aim of women nowadays. This is not freedom. This is unrestrained wildness. Even the highly educated women of Indian society are showing these propensities (Sehgal 1935: 214).

An issue of the magazine Maharathi shows two representations of beauty (Figure 6.1). One is the Western (Paschatya) concept of beauty, which is represented by a completely nude woman. The Eastern

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(Prachaya) representation has a fully clothed woman who is adorned with expensive clothes and jewels (Maharathi, April–May 1927). The contrast between these two pictures suggests that Indian woman can look ‘modern’ and attractive without projecting themselves as ‘sex objects’ as Western women do. It was argued that though purdah of ancient times had not been good for women’s progress, boundaries should be drawn between doing away with the practice of purdah and complete brazenness. Moreover, ‘everything new is not good and everything old is not bad. In the old values are hidden some gems’ (Pandey 1939a: 23). It was suggested that in the current ‘new age’ (naya yug) it is difficult to distinguish between a bhadramahila and a prostitute (roopajiva). Women can adopt new ideas of fashion but should not forget to look respectable like a bhadramahila, and should also ‘attempt to be saubhaya kumari (decent girls) and keep some distance from men’.19 The author Rajrani Suri argues that women who complain about the bad behaviour of men should realise that they are partly to blame for dressing in an ‘exhibitionist’ style. In many Bengali and Hindi tracts the kind of behaviour associated with roopajiva was assigned to lack of education. The kulastree (calm, covers up her body, dresses simply) was distinguished from the kulata/beshya (seeks male company, parts of the body exposed, dresses up). The term vaishya was often used interchangeably with the term memsahib (European women). Chakrabarty argues that these terms stood for individual assertiveness on the part of women and its undesirability. They were the figures of imagination that helped demonise the ‘free’ and ‘private’ female individual whom the European writers on conjugality idealised. ‘Friendship’ between husbands and wives grown in the freedom and privacy of bourgeoisie patriarchy, ‘appear to have run into opposition from the patriarchal structures that already existed’ (Chakrabarty 1993: 22). The articulation of one set of ideas contradicted the other, ‘heightening the contradictions between civic-political life and the ways in which domesticity was framed’. The magazines cannot be just seen as prescriptive treatises on appropriate role-models for women, both in relation to the domestic sphere or to the nationalist movement. Instead they became channels for reflection and questioning of gender roles, particularly in relation to women’s

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individual subjectivities. The identity of the Indian middle-class ‘woman’ was continuously re-negotiated to accommodate what were viewed as the complimentary positive features of both Western and ancient Indian cultures. Aspects which were considered negative from an Indian cultural viewpoint, such as lack of education, absence of enthusiasm and the general physical weakness of Indian women were consciously discarded. Women in the ‘glorious past’ were considered to be brave, full of vigour and not afraid of war. Similarly, Western women were projected, in these writings, not only as companions and pillars of support to their men in the public sphere, but also as participants in political developments. Like her Western counterparts, the Indian ‘public woman’ was brave, ‘independent’, self-disciplined and ready to serve the nationalist cause through her participation and sacrifice in satyagraha. However, unlike her Western counterparts, she was non-violent in nature and non-antagonistic in her relationships with men. Those features of Western society which were considered inappropriate such as the use of violence in political movements and antagonism between the sexes were not incorporated. Also, the superficiality, loss of individuality and self-indulgence of the West was discouraged.

EDUCATION, MOTHERHOOD

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The development of the nation, education and successful motherhood emerged as three interdependent issues. The uneducated mother/wife was a cause of concern since women were responsible for a balanced regime of discipline, health and hygiene within the family. Its importance was heightened because domestic order was important for national progress. In the context of Bengal, Chakrabarty argues that ‘the public sphere could not be erected without reconstructing the private’ (Chakrabarty 1993: 7). It was argued that mothers should bring up their children and not depend on servants and maids. From healthy educated mothers, healthy children can be born who will grow up to be warriors, leaders, writers and poets. Superiority of gender relations was closely linked to cultural superiority. Indian writers argued that the qualities women had as mothers, companions and helpmates was something ingrained in women since ancient times. As early as the 19th century, Bengali literature used the symbol of the mother to represent the past,

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present and future states of India. For example, the mother of the past was represented as a glorious figure of wealth and prosperity. This image was an antithesis to the image of ruin and chaos in the colonial present. (Sarkar 1987: 2012). The nationalist construct of motherhood entailed a woman who not only produced healthy progeny, but also loved and cared for her children. Annie Besant, supporter of women’s education, drew links between women’s education and the ‘making of the nation’. She argued that education would facilitate women in reproducing a ‘race of patriots’ (Besant 1917: 233). Good education and successful motherhood would provide support to the political movement as articulated in magazines such as Stree Darpan. Women were assigned the responsibility for the liberation of their country from the current status of dasta (slavery) (Devi 1922: 172–76). An article titled ‘The deplorable condition of women in India’ expressed anxiety over the effects that lack of education had on mothers and the health of society. The issues of health, women’s progress, and future progeny were linked with national development. It was also in this context that the importance of ‘domestic science’ as a subject was emphasised. An article in Chand, ‘Education in Motherhood’, raised the issue of motherhood, mothercraft and education.20 The article emphasised that women’s education should be accompanied by training in ‘motherhood’ and ‘mother-craft’, thus enabling mothers to nurture and raise ideal citizens. Young ‘girl children’ should be trained to bring up children carefully and to prevent the development of destructive habits. The writer stated: ‘If the mothers are ignorant of the right way to bring up children then how can the children grow up to vanquish their enemies and gain victory?’ (Verma 1937b: 160–61). It was argued that if women were kept ignorant and uneducated like animals, then the children who played in their laps and who were the future foundation of society would also be ignorant (Sehgal 1932: 13). Even if these children are placed in the best schools, and if the fathers also contribute to their knowledge, this will still not yield the same results as the education given to the children by their mothers.21 The mothers should be educated because the children spend most of their time with them, and they are the ones who instil feelings of valour and patriotism. ‘Nationalism was thus at work in re-defining childhood’ (Chakrabarty

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1993: 6).22 On the institution of purdah the writer comments that if women are kept in purdah and deprived of fresh air and exercise, then the development of both their soul and body is prevented. Such mothers would have only weak and sick children. This was often compared with Western women and their healthier lifestyles (Devi 1922: 174). There were wider concerns for the physique and health of the youth. The emasculation of the colonised body, particularly in relation to Bengali men, had already been subject to scrutiny by the British (see Sinha 1995; Chakrabarty 1993).23 The same rhetoric was used primarily by male writers who argued that ‘the youth are the strength of the nation but these days they are not free of bad behaviour, animalistic, unnatural acts’. They want narrow waists, sunken eyes and sunken cheeks, and behave and walk like women. India that used to produce warriors now produces effeminate men’ (Jarkeshwar Prasad, ‘Swastha aur Navayuvak’, Chand, November 1930, p. 4). Women are encouraged to work towards the goal of being true and ideal mothers and like the ‘mothers’ from whom they are born, they should nurture their families. An article in Saraswati titled ‘Awakened women: The lack of an ideal mother’ expresses the author’s fear and worry about the new attitudes that the younger generation of women have adopted and their lack of responsibility in marriage. With the merriment of marriage most women forget that marriage means change. The woman should have the courage to be responsible for the good and bad days of her family. She should be more proud that she is born from a woman than to be married to a high profile man. Thus she should not do any work that will bring a bad name to womankind (Kibe 1935b: 581–84).

The writer suggests that women need to be morally pure, maintain an unblemished character and set an iconic model of being chaste and spiritual mothers and wives. The home was to become a site of ‘reproduction of labour and of moral entity’ (Sen 1993: 233). She also argues that if women are ignorant, then their men should make the effort to improve their situation. She states that ‘Ignorance in a man is more harmful than it is in a woman. Sometimes on seeing careless men one feels like asking them whether they don’t feel like being ideal fathers’ (Kibe 1935b: 585).

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Global comparisons were made to highlight the significance of women’s nurturing roles in India. In an article called ‘The role of women in various parts of the world’, different role models that women have adopted in three countries around the globe are discussed. In America, it was argued, the model is that of a sister. Everyone is referred to as a brother and sister. The husband considers his wife in the role of his sister and expects her to be obedient (aagyakrini), sweetly spoken (madhurbhasini) and capable of answering sensible questions. The husband in return offers her ‘freedom, high education and help of every kind’. The brother-sister relationship exemplifies a relationship based on love, sharing and mutual bonding. In England, the womanly ideal is that of the wife. Women are referred to as the ‘good wives of England’. Husbands consider them their partners and adopt a friendly attitude. The woman is independent and regarded as a helpmate, a friend and a mistress of the house. In Far Eastern countries like Japan, women are primarily seen as colleagues and companions (sahkari) who assist their husbands in all kinds of work. For example, ‘a politician’s wife will be interested in politics and service to the nation, an editor’s wife would be his co-editor and a dealer’s wife will be his clerk’ (Devi 1927: 602). In India, the role model of a woman is that of a re-incarnated goddess and a mother. Women are referred to as the ‘mothers of India’, not only because they have given birth to great men and women such as: ‘Shri Krishna, Bhishma the brahmachari, Kalidas the poet, brave mothers like Kunti and Sumitra, but they also have been mothers and have educated and reared them’ (ibid.). Devi states that these same mothers have fought enemies, protected their own honour and kept their ideals high. Women give birth to men and, if they are ideal mothers, then their children can never be cowardly, stupid or scared. The author identifies these features as the ‘ideal of our nation’ (ibid.: 602–07). An Indian woman is (and should be) her husband’s companion (as in England), his helpmate (as in Japan) and a sweet-spoken sister (as in America). However, such an ideal can only be realised if, despite the influence of Western ideas, ‘the modern woman has knowledge of her religion and Indian values as well as takes pride in being called an Indian’ (ibid.: 604). Symbolic constructs of Indian motherhood were projected as supreme and unmatchable since motherhood is associated with a pastiche of qualities that the individual role models of different countries possessed.

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The final aim of these cross-cultural references—whether drawn to highlight the inadequate educational status of Indian women, or to highlight the positive features of motherhood—was to encourage Indian women to contribute to national life as participants or supporters of the anti-colonial movement. Articles encouraged women to take cognisance of political life in India and to learn from global historical events (Devi 1922: 172). Western women were projected both as sources of encouragement to their menfolk in their war efforts, and as ‘protectors of their nation’s freedom’. In the 1940s, several articles drew on the example of Russia and other socialist countries. Russia was seen as progressive in its political history and its efforts to improve the status of women.24 The author argued that the condition of Russian women in the 18th century25 was similar to the condition of Indian women under colonial rule. However, after the 1917 revolution, ‘Russia was reborn’ (Devi 1940: 168). However, After decades of living under slavery, both men and women developed a consciousness and tried to reform their degraded position. On seeing the men sacrifice their lives women also took part in the struggle for independence. Women went to jail and with the efforts of both men and women, Russia gained independence (ibid.).

Though optimistic conclusions concerning the success of Russian women in gaining equal rights with men were reached, the main purpose of these references was to encourage Indian women to contribute to the nationalist movement. With reference to India, it was also argued that although the Congress movement had created a high level of awareness amongst women, the number of women taking part in nationalist activities was still inadequate: We should clearly understand that as long as our nation is dependent on colonial rule we cannot remove the bad practices from our society and, unless society is reformed, women cannot progress. We should learn from the example of our Russian sisters (ibid.).

Also, like Russia, any national effort during a big war or religious task of any kind was incomplete without the help of women, ‘which

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emphasises the truth that the position of women is high in our society’. Consequently, Today when the nation is preparing to inaugurate a new national conquest, when India is going to add a few pages to the historical book on humanity, when the nation for its freedom will sacrifice its life on the guillotines, then how can we now achieve anything without the support of our womankind? (Shastri 1940: 9–11).

This piece is written in the context of the current war in Europe where ‘the once independent and strong nations are getting transformed and nobody knows the end result’ (ibid.: 9). The article suggests that India is one of many nations in the world being affected by political change. Significance to ideals upheld by Indian society, such as trust, humanism and non-violence, is emphasised: We have to also show the cruel and barbaric West, who take the support of their barbarism to slice the throat of humanity, a new civilised life. We have to show that the relationship between man to man, and nation to nation cannot be based on mistrust and violence. For that we have to resort to humanism, independence and non-violence. However, remember that all this work cannot be done alone by man (ibid.: 10). India refuses to support any such forces and for the welfare of the world, we need to make our nation completely independent. It is apparent that Britain wants to retain control over us and in this light the satyagraha struggle is crucial. Both men and women will have to contribute. Women should contribute to the spread of khadi and charkha, Hindu-Muslim unity and Harijan seva (help). Women should not consider themselves as abla (helpless) and restrict themselves to a life of fashion and laziness within the homes. The latter activities are against the pride of the nation (ibid.: 11).

Articles often challenged/resisted the colonial discourses and the ‘civilising’ mission of Britain towards its colonies like India and Africa. Instead the Indian nation is projected as responsible for civilising the ‘barbaric’ West, especially Britain: a strategic opposition to the ideology of colonialism. British imperial domination was projected as hindering the progress of humanity. Moreover, statements such as ‘both men and women will have to contribute’ are used to deny the West’s claim about the backwardness and barbarity of gender relations in India. The East is

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projected as adopting a ‘civilised’ approach to the relationships between people and nations in opposition to the violent approach of the invading colonialists. The violent aspects of movements in the West, and the prevalence of dishonesty, untrustworthiness and antagonism between the sexes there are contrasted with the higher tenets of Indian culture. For example, the violent behaviour of women suffragettes in the West was emphasised in opposition to the non-violent but successful struggle of Indian women for their own upliftment (uddhar): In India one will find very few pashchadgami (backward) men who would stop their women from doing what they like. A women’s movement opposed to men is absent in India. Unlike the women in the West, we have not broken windows or damaged anything to achieve our rights. We have achieved our appropriate position in this struggle, which is based on the tenets of Ahimsa, love and truth. We have done our duty in this struggle and as a result have not only achieved our rights but also self-respect (Kripalani 1940: 297).

The relationship here between men and women was projected as non-antagonistic, and women were seen to be ready to take on the same responsibilities as men. In their ‘shoulder to shoulder’ (kandha se kandha) participation, women underwent the same trials and tribulations as men, whether this meant going to jail, picketing or facing lathi charges from the police. In the June 1940 issue of the magazine Kamala, it was argued that in comparison to Britain and other nations, the progress of Indian women’s movements was quite different (Prasad 1940: 232–33). Whereas British women got the right to vote after the ‘stress’ of public agitation, the women of India got the vote without much struggle, and some Indian people even said that the same British government which was against the women’s movement in Britain helped Indian women to gain education and the vote. The articles demonstrate a lot of ambiguity and confusion. While the contribution of women to nation-building, as well as in defending their nation, is seen as invaluable, the writings often reinforce stereotypes of Indian women as being weak, degenerate and lazy. Writers encouraged women to retain the distinctiveness of Indian cultural values (‘Indianness’), and on these grounds opposed the ‘barbaric, antagonistic West’. However, colonial stereotypes of being ‘degenerate’ and ‘lazy’

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were borrowed to encourage women to participate in the nationalist movement. Dipesh Chakrabarty (1993) argues that on the one hand the ‘colonial modern’ wanted to align domesticity to the requirements of the civil-political, but on the other hand the public narratives of the social life of the family was replete at the same time with the opposite theme, that of degeneration in the 19th century, also referred to as the ‘dark ages’. The reasons for male and female degeneration were different; for example, women in earlier times were more hard-working, and men were on the other hand working too hard under the British bourgeois regime (ibid.: 22). Another contentious issue was the emphasis placed on satyagraha and the ‘feminine’ attributes of women. As we know this was not a true representation of the nationalist movement which also saw the participation of revolutionary women and their engagement in violence.

MODERNITY, THE ‘MODERN WOMAN’ AND GENDER RELATIONS Women’s writings, which emerged within a specific political background, also reflect the paradoxes and complexities of women’s lives. While some conformed to the prevailing social expectations, some moved beyond that frame and introduced new issues which related to ‘their’ needs, feelings and expectations as women, rather than what was expected of them. The debates and articles on the ‘respectable new woman’ and their contribution to national life did not preclude radicalism. Though it was primarily women contributors who articulated the more radical views, some men also held less conservative views on women’s roles in this period. Articles projected women as wanting to have more control over their social, economic and public lives, thus sharpening the conflicts women faced in their daily existence. The writers explore ideas on sex, love, independence and women’s rights, although they are not fully developed. These writers rejected the values which kept women out of public life. For example, a woman writer in an article titled ‘The real problem in the life of a woman’, argues that in previous times … the question was of protecting ‘this property in the form of a woman’ from anti-social elements. The solution to this problem was to keep

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women behind the purdah. The only remaining problem that surfaced was how to involve women in activities from which society would eventually benefit. This was taken care of by philosophers like Manu and Parashar who laid down the dos and the donts for the women (Ghosh 1940: 228).

However, the problem looks different in the ‘modern age’ with women resisting the inhibited identity constructed for them by men: The property called woman for whom men since ages have been taxing their intelligence to develop good behaviour in her, suddenly acquired a spark of awakening (chetna ka sanchar) and is no longer ready to be a toy in the hands of the man (Ghosh 1940: 227).

The new issues were seen in terms of women wanting greater breadth of knowledge, the freedom to marry and to end marriage and like men to have property rights of their own. These were projected by some authors as a woman’s natural rights and ‘to ask is natural for all human beings’.26 This also prompted writers to look anew at the relationship between men and women. In an article in Kamala by Meenadevi Bhuradia titled ‘We Women’, the author expresses amazement at an oftrepeated statement in speeches and reform movements; that ‘any nation’s progress or backwardness is dependent on its womankind’ (Bhuradia 1940: 57). She asks the question that if the relationship is so mutual then why do men consider ‘us’ as their aashrit (subordinates) or see a woman belonging to a lower category. The author suggests that such a situation has emerged because the woman is not progressing. She has become ‘handicapped’ and has left all her burdens to men. ‘The man finding us incapable, has committed a lot of crimes against us; however things can be reformed.’ The author continues by raising a few questions. ‘What is man? A person who has played in our laps. Then we can make him what we want to. Because of our ignorance the man thinks that he can keep us in darkness. However, we ourselves should leave this ignorance and bring “momentum” to our lives. Man with our “momentum” will also look progressive.’ However, it was suggested that the mind of the male is not sufficiently liberated to accept the demands of women. The cause of the problems is thus the transition between one form of ‘consciousness’ to another, between ‘ego and sex’ and between ‘independence and love’:

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Unlike the struggle between the rich and the poor the struggle between man and woman is different. The inherent nature of the woman does not allow her to grab and rob (as the deprived classes do), rather because of her awakened soul she wants to get her rights and independence from the man. However, her natural inner love for the man stops her from fighting all the way through. Today the woman’s own expectations are divided. In psychology you would refer to it as ‘ego versus sex’ and in common language as ‘independence and love’. It is in the clash between the latter two that the problems in human existence emerge. However, for men and women it is manifested in different ways. For example in a physical relationship a man naturally occupies a stronger position and the woman enjoys his nature. To be close to her husband makes her lower her head down for him but the challenge of independence pulls her in a different direction. This same problem does not arise for the man because for him his pride and his sexual prowess takes him in one direction only (Ghosh 1940: 229).

It was argued that a woman’s love has not been respected, and instead it has been considered as a weakness. Along with a change in ‘her’ consciousness, the nature of her love is also seen as undergoing change. She is not happy with only bodily love and satisfaction, she wants respect for her love, and this is the reason why she is against polygamy and loveless marriages. Moreover, she has realised that love is not greater than the soul, and to sacrifice the soul for feeble love is no longer the aim of her life. A further dilemma for a woman as projected in this article was that if she loved a man and also desired his love, then to fight against him was problematic and dangerous. The solution to this dilemma was suggested as one in which a woman should not hide the good aspects of her personality by showing any impatience for love, but on the other hand she should not crush love and acquire harmful pride. ‘Love for oneself and for the husband should be knotted together in harmony, and this will give rise to a new woman not seen before in society only’ (ibid.). The above debates foreground the discussion on the construct of the ‘modern woman’. Mahadevi Verma,27 in ‘The state of the modern woman’ describes three categories of ‘modern’ women. In the first category she places those women who have discarded the purdah and given unmatchable support to men in order to make the political revolution successful. In the second category are those educated women who have started using their education and awakened consciousness

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as a tool to redeem the ills of society. The third category is of those women who have very little education but have adopted western modernity. The ‘modern’ woman of the final category, particularly, comes under a lot of scrutiny and her defining qualities are seen to be unbridled freedom, indifference and no sense of moral discrimination between good and bad. However, the author argues that there is considerable overlap between these viewpoints, and that ‘women embrace those ideas which provide a solution to their own specific problems’. Since women have different perceptions of changes in society, their ideas on what constitute ‘modernity’ also vary. For example, in the first category, the women who have joined the political movement see ‘modernity in the form of national awakening’. The second category of women sees modernity as ‘acquiring education and disseminating that knowledge’, while the third category of women view modernity ‘as decorating their homes and taking an interest in fashion’ (Verma 1938: 267). However, Verma is sceptical of women’s ‘public’ participation in the nationalist movement. While agreeing that participation enabled women to ‘remove the blot of powerlessness from their personality’, but with this ‘honey was also mixed some poison’. What the women managed to grab was priceless, ‘but what they lost was also priceless’. The author argues that women experienced centuries of oppression, and with the awakening of the nation they found an opportunity for ‘self-progress’, which was the ‘honey’ in their lives. Women who took part in the nationalist movement were taught self-control and self-discipline along with the spirit of rebellion. Though these women became ‘good soldiers’, they forgot to be ‘good citizens’. The harshness of the movement brought a certain degree of callousness and indifference to women’s lives, which not only became a part of their personality, but also encroached upon their personal domestic lives too (Verma 1938: 269). This was the ‘poison’ that seeped through. What women did not realise was that rebellion could only be a tool for significant change and not a quality to be acquired. Moreover, some women, the author argues, ‘… did not follow the call of nationalism for any special sacrifice or renunciation’. In fact, The truth is that their domestic life called for so much sacrifice that they rebelled against it. They realised that their restricted lives and an existence

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dictated by tradition did not raise their prestige or give them a sense of dignity (Verma 1938: 270).

This, the author argues, is one of the reasons why, ‘women turned their faces against duties at home and opted for duties in the public domain’ (ibid.). The author emphasises that she does not want to view middle-class women as a homogeneous group, and instead identifies resolution of individual specific problems as a personal endeavour for every woman. Though Mahadevi Verma does not identify the specific category of ‘modern woman’ (as she does earlier), she does argue that the ‘modern’ woman finds herself facing the same prejudices which have faced her traditional sisters. For example, she is looked at with contempt by those men who support old thoughts and traditions, and even men with modern views are unable to offer any useful assistance. However, the intelligent women manage to ‘marry the sword and the bangle together’ (ibid.: 267–70). This means that a correct balance is drawn between the contradictory pulls of public participation and domestic commitments. Those who cannot achieve this balance rely more on rebellion than on their femininity. For example, women who take part in the nationalist movement (rebellion) focus their vision on the single goal of sacrifice for the nation and lose sight of everything else, including their femininity (ibid.: 270). The writer appreciates the awakening of women, but expresses fear about the nonfeminine traits that women have acquired, like apathy, harshness and lack of concern. She suggests that though a woman is non-violent by nature, the political movement has wrecked violence on her emotions, feelings and domestic life. The solution to the latter concern, in Verma’s opinion, is for women to stay at home and still contribute usefully to society. A woman’s contribution can be in the field of literature, something which would not only give her fulfilment and improve her intellectual powers, but also remove the monotony of her domestic duties. She suggests that if literature does not have any contribution from women, then it is bereft of the representation of half the human race (Verma 1937a: 383–84). It would not be incorrect to suggest that Mahadevi Verma was writing this from her own experience as a poet and a woman with a literary profile. This was also the kind of activity that many middle-class women who could not cross the domestic threshold engaged in.

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However, some articles questioned the dynamics of the home. Kamalabai Kibe, in ‘Awakened Women’, states that to consider ‘the home to be the only world’ will actually bring more disintegration to homes. This is because women will not be able to realise the nature of their rights as women, and their ‘ignorance is using us as a tool to destroy our own dynasty (of women)’ (Kibe 1935a: 387). The nature of school education provided for women is questioned, since it has improved literacy but not helped in the growth of ideas. Consequently, any improvement to education will have to be brought about by women themselves. Also, with reference to those Western values ‘which are peeping through the door’, it is argued that men should not be the ones who make decisions about which ideas are good or bad for women. If men make the decisions, then ‘it will be injustice and a rule of suppression’ (ibid.: 388). Moreover, the author argues that men will be able to achieve swaraj (independence) through satyagraha, but women will not be able to achieve similar independence if they do not rely on their own decisions. Similarly, when ‘fashion’ is discussed, male attitudes are questioned. In an article by Rukmini Devi Bhargav titled ‘Our Ideals’, it is suggested that men should be held responsible and not women, since it is the men who expect women to emulate fashions. The author mentions that there is an ‘epidemic of fashion’ (phasan ka bhayanak rog) and asks who should be blamed: ‘the present day parents or the youth?’. She sees that youth, who have no regard for their parents or their nation, want themselves and their women to adopt Western culture. Though the older generation blame women, they should instead endeavour to educate young men in order to make them more aware ‘towards their own and the nation’s future’. This will also prevent them from ‘running after’ fashion. It was argued that the youth, under the influence of modern ideas, were depriving the woman of her natural talents and making her an object of display. The woman no longer put on decorations for herself, but for the man. Her situation had become so pathetic that the poet Sumitra Nandan Pant commented: The one who sees her body through the eyes of the man, The one who fills her mind with the thoughts of the man towards her,

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She now shies away from her own gaze. Hiding from herself, She is invisible from the society. Hey, woman, the shadow of the man, The sahadharmini (companion)of man, The light in the household now flickers. (Bhargav 1939: 68).

The woman, through this new role model, appears to appease the male gaze that reduces her to a sexual object. In the process she loses the modesty and shyness associated with her femininity. The poem also suggests that the ‘woman’ has lost her own identity and personality (vayaktitva) as she has adopted the new ideas of fashion, which men find appropriate and which appeal to their senses. The woman finds her new self an embarrassment and consequently she shies away ‘from her own gaze’. It was also suggested that though young men are attracted towards ‘modern’ women, they should exercise their discretion and good taste (suruchi) in adopting ‘modern’ ideas. These young men should stop encouraging women to indulge in ‘superficial show’, because though ‘paper flowers are beautiful to look at, they are without life’. The author suggests that the superficiality and ostentatious decoration associated with the new trends in fashion dissociate women from their natural beauty, which women had earlier adopted as a form of art (aek kala ke roop mein apnati aayi hai) (ibid.: 67–68). This art took the form of mehndi (hand decorations), lal sari (red sari) and suhag bindi (the dot on the forehead).28 The woman, through her good taste and her skills, has adapted goods aspects in nature and transformed them into a natural art (swabhavik sringhar). Instead, the author urges men to provide a good education for women, and to impart knowledge about good qualities which will make these women the ‘goddesses of their homes’ and sahadharminis (companions) since inside the home she was ‘the human idol of nature: prakriti ki manavai murti’. (ibid.). The author Bhargav says that ‘we’ are sick of these new developments, and that ‘through our poetess, Pant, we would like to say’ the following to the men: ‘Hey mankind, free the woman and liberate her body from these jewels from her soft body’ (ibid.: 68). The author then

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goes on to say that a new voice for women’s freedom has arisen. However, like the fashion of clothes, this is a fashion of ideas. For example, in every conversation the word ‘independence’ comes up so that people are prompted to appreciate the new progressive ideas. These days the meaning of woman’s independence is being understood as similar to the independence of European women, and consequently more bad rather than good qualities are being adopted: Freedom of a woman who has stayed behind four walls does not mean that she ruins her household and starts staying in a hotel. The ideal is that women within their homes should administer a path of progress without any hindrances. We should not just be slaves but ‘house-women’. Like an ideal householder we should give up bad practices and superstitions and help in building national strength (ibid.).

Though this article could be read as conservative, but when placed in the social context in which it was written, it articulates a view of women’s interests which is different from earlier conservative ideas. The quotation suggests that physical and economic independence associated with Western women should not affect the domestic duties of Indian women. ‘Staying in a hotel’ implies that Indian women should not confuse independence and economic freedom with a neglect of the household. This is important because articles of the period suggest that since Western women started earning, they have lost their domestic values and those feminine traits associated with motherhood and nurturing. The author reminds women to strike a healthy balance between their public and private lives. The author suggests that women should not indulge in unnecessary expenses such as expensive jewels and clothes, and should not be negligent towards their children.

CONCLUSION Women raising issues about themselves in 1930s and 1940s is of considerable significance since the United Provinces was an extremely conservative society, steeped in repressive social norms and high rates of female illiteracy. The Hindi magazines also illustrate the conflict/ambiguity women felt between the desire for individual self-expression and a reluctance to challenge existing role models and nationalist constructs

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on the other. Some themes that arise can be discussed as follows: First, there is unanimity in the arguments that women were seen as the touchstone of national progress and moral regeneration. It was clear, however, that women’s education had to be beneficial for the nation and serve the immediate purposes of the nationalist movement. In the context of the wider anti-colonial struggle, the idea of a healthy nation was linked with nearly every issue, and the idea of defending the nation was the driving force behind many discussions and disputes. The ambiguities and contradictions in the literature could be a reflection of the fact that it was easier to reform and challenge oppressive social structures in society by articulating issues through interests for the nation than for equality for women. Ideas articulated on behalf or for the nation acquired political legitimacy and respectability. Also, by emphasising that reforms were ‘for the nation’, new changes were aligned with the nationalist movement. Second, the domestic space acquired a new political significance, and domestic responsibilities (such as nurturing and mothering) were aligned with national work and national contributions. The debates over the correct balance between modernity and tradition within the domestic sphere also generated competing identities for women: the uneducated and ignorant women, the educated grihalakshmi and helpmate, and the ‘modern’ educated woman who was subversive and nonconformist. The constructed image of the ‘new nationalist woman’ was of a non-violent woman who extended the discipline and sacrifice of her home to the nation as a whole. Third, there was a burgeoning consciousness of a woman’s movement, though it was built on non-antagonism between the sexes. This in itself was part of more complex debates. Emphasising gender division would feed into British justification that Indian society was retrograde. In fact, women through debates in the magazines tried to demonstrate the superiority of gender relations which was built on non-antagonism between the sexes. There were repeated suggestions that one should borrow sparingly from the ‘West’ but not ‘westernise’. While the western women were seen as self-reliant and independent, Indian writers also emphasised that the domestic sphere was to be built on harmony between the sexes. In this respect men’s roles and attitudes were questioned. However, the extreme radicalism of ideas was jettisoned.

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Fourth, though men and women writers try to avoid highlighting overt antagonism between the sexes, they do emphasise that inequalities can be resolved if men also realise about, and contribute in alleviating, unequal structures. In this respect, conservative attitudes of men towards women are questioned. For example, contributors argue that women should not sacrifice their ‘soul for feeble love’ and that they should also not ‘crush’ their love for men and acquire damaging pride. It was considered progressive for women to explore social aspects that concerned them as women (such as divorce and property rights, freedom to decide on the Western values they wanted to adopt, respect from men for their love) and also engage in public activities (like their Western counterparts). However, they were expected not to associate economic independence with the neglect of domestic duties and values such as mothering and nurturing (unlike their Western counterparts). Furthermore, they could adopt certain Western trends of fashion without losing their individuality, natural aesthetic sense and respectability. Unlike her Western counterparts, she could still look beautiful without indulging in vulgar exhibitionism, which was meant primarily to attract the male gaze. Within this balance, women were expected to select those relevant values which positively facilitated the construction of their individual female identities as well as the national identity. The debates, expressions and statements in the magazines point to the steady politicisation that was taking place in women’s lives— through women’s activities in both the domestic and public spheres.

Notes 1 On a different tack, Margaret Beetham (1998) has analysed a particular women’s magazine called Woman at Home that was launched by Hodder and Stoughton in 1893 in London. It was sub-titled ‘Annie S. Swan’s Magazine’. Beetham argues that a magazine as a form is characterised by a ‘variety of voices and by the co-existence on the page of heterogeneous, even contradictory positions’ (225). 2 The moon is associated with the feminine world. 3 The editor received contributions from women from other parts of Uttar Pradesh. For example, a woman wrote to the editor, Ramrakh Singh Sahgal, from Gorakhpur after the city had received a visit from Swaruprani Nehru, a prominent leader of Allahabad, where the magazine was published (anonymous in Chand, 1930, p. 148).

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Editorial in Chand, February 1937, p. 396. The word Arya is associated with a person with superior qualities in social, religious and political matters. Mahila refers to a woman. My use of these magazines is limited since I was able to locate only some of the issues. Literature acquired through Suman Agarwal, grand-daughter of Ratneshwari Agarwal of Benares. Three generations of women from the Agarwal family were involved with this magazine. An unmarried woman was addressed as Kumari, and a married woman as Srimati. Transcripts of interviews with Prakashvati Yashpal, Sushila Rohatgi, Satya Saxena and Lakshmi Sehgal. Transcript of interview with Narayani Tripathi, Mrs. Misra, Smt. Phul Kumari Devi, Sridevi Tewari and Godavari Devi. Transcript of interview with Manavati Arya. Transcripts of interviews with Vijay Devi Rathore, Uttara Saxana, Madhavi Lata Shukla, Kaushalya Devi, Avadhrani Singh who attended high school in Hindi. The AIWC, a women’s organisation established in 1927, emphasised during the early half of the 20th century that education for women should be complementary with their roles as wives and mothers, in other words women’s education should have a different purpose from that of men (Agarwal 2000: 42). Some such as Ghulam Murshid (1983: 10–12) have viewed this process as one of modernity and modernisation. This was also the time when middle class English women were encouraged towards house management, also constitutive of their identities as women (Adam 1996: 3). This the author explains through a much-quoted example. A Maharashtrian engineer had a wife who was educated till the intermediate level. This particular woman, who diligently did her household work, is contrasted with the wife of a rich husband who was reluctant to sweep the floors. In another example he narrates the incident of a less educated woman who had a ‘big mouth’. This woman took no interest in household work or obeying her elders. She became interested in the Congress satyagraha and gave speeches. Her parents feared that if she was put behind bars they would never be able to find a match for her to marry. So they sent her to another town to stay with some relatives. When she was finally married, she created such a horrible scene with her mother-in-law that her husband had to leave home and move to the town. In order to avoid household work the couple start eating outside. In the final analysis the author points out that only if the woman realises her duty can both she and her husband lead a comfortable life (Pandey 1939b: 139–40).

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In 20th century tracts on domesticity in Bengal, a distinction was drawn between Lakshmi and Alaksmi. The latter were women who were both uneducated as well those who were the products of education itself (Chakrabarty 1993: 9). ‘Sister Nivedita’ was Margaret Nobel from Ireland. She was given the name of ‘Nivedita’ after she became a disciple of Swami Vivekanand. Bhadramahila meant a ‘Bengali gentlewoman’. She was expected to be an ‘intelligent companion to her husband, who was caught up in the stormy days of social and occupational change’ (Karlekar 1991: 7). The construction of ‘mother-craft’, as opposed to ‘motherhood’, was borrowed from Britain, with the purpose of education for the poor and working class women being to assist them in being good mothers. Though the ‘actual education was vastly different, the assumptions behind the arguments promoting formal education for middle-class women and mother-craft for poor/working-class women were very similar’ (Sen 1993: 238). However, the issue of mother-craft was also fraught with tensions since working-class women were economically compelled to work in factories and paradoxically the high maternal and mortality rates were seen to be due to physical strain in factories (ibid.). However education imparted by ‘European mistresses’ is not looked upon favourably: If you want to remove your children from the influence of women like Lakshmibai and introduce them to french lilies, you do so (go to these mistresses). If you do not want India to be called India, and you want to wipe the meaning from Hindu life, you do so (Devi 1927: 604).

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These debates were dominant in 19th century Bengali literature, but were not confined only to Bengal (see Chakrabarty 1993). Several of the books on health and medicine written in the 1860s and 1870s were concerned with the supposed laziness of the Bengali body. The question of health reflected the relations of power under colonial rule, the idiom of gender in which it was often manifested and the extent to which the male body was itself a signifier for these relationships. The nationalist leader Jawaharlal Nehru in particular was influenced by the socialist ideas prevalent in Russia, ‘especially in its massive and planned attack on poverty, disease and illiteracy and its push forward towards industrialisation’ (Luthra 1976: 7). It was argued by the author that during the 18th century women in Russia were treated badly by men. The article describes how a father used to give a stick to his daughter’s husband and asked him to use it without any fear or hesitation. Also, when a husband met his wife for the first time after marriage he would hit her on her shoulders twice with the stick and say

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to her that from then on she should forget her father and obey her husband’s wishes. Property was owned by the husband and, during that century, women would accept this and suffer accordingly. In a magazine published from London, Woman at Home: Annie S. Swan’s Magazine (launched in 1893), the primary aim was the construction of a specific gendered, classed and raced identity of the English domestic woman who would also be signifier of Imperialism. Queen Victoria was represented as a mother not only to her family but also to the whole Empire. Motherhood was regularly used to legitimate the exercise of imperial power and the mobilisation in which ‘natives’ were constituted as ‘children’—in a similar way that working class domestic servants in English homes were treated as objects that had to be disciplined and closely monitored. However, by the late 19th century the magazine began receiving correspondence which challenged the traditional narratives of femininity (the good mother and wife) and which argued that the old models of domestic femininity did not fit the ‘truths’ of their lives. In particular, correspondents argued that femininity was deemed incompatible with working for a wage or earning a living. However, the magazine’s columnist Annie Swan, though herself a financially independent professional woman, seemed unable to articulate the identity she lived and instead emphasised a model of domestic femininity whose chief tenets were heterosexual marriage, motherhood and domestic philanthropy (Beetham 1998: 223). Though she was referred to as a ‘feminist’, she actually belonged to the tradition of ‘chayawad’, which focused on the ‘inner’ qualities, softer sensibilities and feminine attributes of women. Thus, for these authors, the domestic sphere was very important. All these forms of decoration are associated with a married woman.

CONCLUSION

This book would not be complete without looking at ways in which women’s participation shaped their lives after Independence. The nationalist leaders recognised that the contribution of women was extremely important for the success of the movement, but did postIndependence India continue to recognise that contribution? Did women’s political contributions in the Hindi heartland in particular and India in general facilitate their demands for women’s rights or did the nationalist agenda supersede the women’s agenda? Was it sidelined by other political priorities, thus making it difficult for women to articulate a clear agenda for themselves in post-Independence India? Some scholars argue that women are drawn into the anti-colonial political struggle as a tactical necessity and once the goal of national independence is achieved the newly-established state quickly reaffirms ‘traditional’ gender roles and excludes women from much of the political activity they had experienced during the years of national conflict (cited in Jayawardena 1986). Women’s agenda is subsumed by the nationalist agenda, women’s traditional roles and images are unchanged after independence and they retreat back to their homes without any changes to their self-perception (Jayawardena 1986; Chaudhuri 1999). In relation to India and Ireland, Holmes and Holmes (1997) have argued that though women in India (and Ireland) ‘subordinated their desires’ for greater equality until independence had been achieved, they were subsequently let down by the practices of the post-independence governments which failed to deliver on promises of supporting and advancing the cause of women’s rights. In particular, Gandhi’s involvement of women has been analysed as a carefully planned strategy that would fulfil a specific political purpose in the nationalist movement (Agnew 1979; Patel 1985). His use

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of household objects such as the charkha and khadi is understood by some authors as an essential ‘tool’ to involve women in the national struggle, but without shifting any gender inequalities within or outside the household (Patel 1985; Kishwar 1985). Moreover, the symbolic repertoire used by Gandhi and other nationalist leaders has been critically investigated and it has been argued that symbolic representation of women was a patriarchal extension of the nationalist project (Bagchi 1990; Jolly 1994; Rao 1999; Yuval-Davis and Anthias 1989). Even the minimum political gains that some women accessed, it has been argued, were not shared equitably (Holmes and Holmes 1997). Pearson argues that ‘women of the extended female space’ on whom the ‘universalisation’ had been based, gained little from the post-1947 state (Pearson 1981: 187; Minault 1981). The political status granted to the female intelligentsia (primarily elite women) was only within a slightly modified ideological and spatial structure. These elite women were not able to represent the interests of women from diverse social sections and exposed the fragility of the post-colonial women’s movement (also see Kumari Satyavati, ‘Bhartiya Striyan’, Stree Darshan, 1932). Women’s participation in the nationalist movement in the Hindi belt was initiated by the Nehru household who articulated a particular nationalist discourse to middle-class women, a discourse that facilitated the nationalist movement but sidelined the more pressing women’s issues. Though the participation of thousands of women may not have lead to an autonomous women’s movement in the Hindi-speaking heartland or bring immediate changes for purdah-bound women, it did generate an enhanced sense of evaluation among women of their own strength (Basu 1995: 22). In a geo-political region that was steeped in conservative social norms and practices, even small changes in women’s perceptions, attitudes and expressions were of considerable significance. Moreover, social norms are not immutable, even if the timeframe for changing such norms may be a long one. Many women did what they thought they should do—not always conforming to what was expected of them. If we conceptualise this as ‘agency’ on behalf of women, then one can argue that ‘agency is never to be found in some pure state of volition and action’, but has to be understood through the contradictory structures of patriarchy (also see Rajan 1998: 37). Women in the Hindi-speaking heartland worked around the ‘disabling’

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practices of segregation and respectability and like in the public sphere, re-fashioned and re-modelled symbolic representations to facilitate their nationalist activities. As we see, the symbolic significance of women ‘entrusted with the task of saving the nation’ re-surfaced during the anti-Mandal agitation (Tharu and Niranjana 1996: 240), and the symbolism associated with ‘love and protection of the motherland’ was again invoked in Hindutva politics (ibid.: 250). Women in the Hindi-speaking heartland became aware of the significance of the freedom struggle, both for the nation and in their personal lives. Nationalist participation enabled women, and also male nationalist leaders, to see their demonstrable as well as latent political potential. The public sphere offered a challenge and an exciting alternative to tradition-bound domestic lives and enabled women to experience a new sense of freedom. Women who had been in purdah managed not only to step out on the streets but also engage in public activities, court arrest and go to jail. Women for the first time found they could associate with other women without the supervisory gaze of the males in their families. Women had believed in the nationalist promises of freedom and justice and they were not about to let the new state renege on these promises. Instead, they used the opportunities that arose with new nationalist expectations to develop a distinct political awareness and consciousness. However, while the activities of women who stepped out in the public domain have been adequately analysed, they have largely focused on the activities of primarily elite women who were engaged in formal political organisations such as the Indian National Congress and who provided leadership to other women. But what about the activities of middle-class women who were not formally part of any political organisation, though often identifying themselves as either ‘Gandhiwad’ or ‘Krantikari’? While building on the narratives of ordinary middle-class women, this volume also sees the character and genesis of the political consciousness and political potential of purdah-bound women within the domestic sphere as being equally important as their activities in the public domain. In doing so this work challenges the view that political activities only take place in the public sphere. The success of the nationalist movement was not only due to women’s public activities, but also because of the politicisation of the domestic sphere. During the

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anti-colonial movement, the home was not only a site of nationalist reform (Chakrabarty 1993; Chatterjee 1989) but also a site of political resistance. The domestic sphere enveloped women’s lives with ambiguities and uncertainties and both gender and generational dynamics became important as a means of support or contestation. Women used the discourse of the ‘familial’ to carve out a political niche inside the domestic domain. Is not the manner in which women perceived the contradictions and limitations of their participation itself indicative of their burgeoning political consciousness? It is also important to emphasise that though the nationalist discourse projected women as united in their commitment to, and the extent of involvement in, the nationalist movement, women did not perceive the political reality in the same way nor did they organise collectively with the purpose of resisting unequal structures either in the public or the domestic sphere. They expressed different motivations for participation, from sharing a romantic vision of swaraj to a desire for sharing the privation and suffering of their men to making an effective contribution to the nation. However, despite varied motivations, women’s participation set a precedent for future generations regarding women’s important role in nation building. While it is true that some women who took part in the nationalist movement, primarily in the public domain, later discontinued their activities and concentrated on their domestic responsibilities, there were many women who never left the domestic sphere—who had instead negotiated political activities around their domestic responsibilities. As many respondents expressed, ‘There was no “going back” for us—we only moved forward’. For these women to bring up a new generation that was more articulate, more politically aware and more conscious of their rights as women—that was their ‘biggest nationalist act’. And I am a product of that generation.

GLOSSARY

aadhunik aadhunikta aagyakrini aashrit aata abla agyanta ahimsa andolan arandhan arthashastra arya athiti atyachar audasenaya auniti avnati awarchin bande matram bhadramahila Bharatmata Bharatvarsha burqa

modern modernity obedient subordinates flour helpless ignorance doctrine of non-violence movement A rite where women do not light the hearth for cooking economics supreme guests atrocity loneliness progress regress modern Literally ‘bow to thee mother’. As a slogan, long live the motherland respectable women Mother India India One-piece covering worn a Muslim woman in public places. Apart from the mesh through which the woman can see, the burqa covers the wearer from head to toe.

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chadar chappati charkha chawal chayawad chetna ka sanchar dacoity dal dasta desh seva devar devi devrani dharma

dharna Durga gahtari gaumata ghada ghazal ghee godown grihalakshmi Holi itihas janma mata josh josh-utsah kala pani

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thick sheet made from cotton flour pastry wooden spinning-wheel operated by hand on which khadi cloth is spun rice a style of poetry consciousness robbery lentils slavery serving the nation husband’s younger brother goddess husband’s younger brother’s wife. can be interpreted as a doctrine of righteousness, sacred law or a general code of conduct which is appropriate to each class and each stage in the life of an individual silent protest Goddess of strength a sort of bundle mother cow round pan expressive poetry clarified butter storage room goddess of the home a festival celebrating the victory of good over evil. history biological mother eagerness enthusiasm Literally ‘black water’. The term implied lifelong incarceration in the most brutal conditions, often leading to death. The most common cause of death was black water fever. Goddess of destruction

Glossary kamal Kamala kandha se kandha kartavya khaddar khadi khadi chadar kshatriya kirti krantikari kripan kumari kurki lehar Lakshmi lal sari lalan bachan lathi ma madhurbhasini madyayug mahila mahila sudhar makhmal malmal mandal mard mata majboor mehndi mela moh mohalla mukadma murti

267

lotus Another name for Lakshmi shoulder to shoulder duty another word for khadi coarse hand-spun cotton cloth mainly spun on a charkha sheet made from coarse cotton warrior caste creation of God revolutionary small dagger mode of address to an unmarried woman confiscation of immovable property by the police wave Goddess of wealth red sari children baton; a charge by the police mother sweet spoken Middle Ages woman women’s reforms silk silk organisation a real man mother helpless hand decoration fair lust neighbourhood, localities court case idol/image

268

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nala nanad nari naya naya yug Oudh paisa parivartan paschatya pashchadgami pati grah pativrata pheri pita grah poplin prabha prabhat pheri

prachaya prachinyug protsahan purdah

rakhi rakshabandhan

IN THE

INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT

canal sisters-in-law woman new new age present-day Uttar Pradesh Indian currency change western backward husband’s house devotion to one man, the husband procession father’s house fine cotton light and glory of the morning sun Literally ‘morning processions’. It comprised groups of women and men going around various localities, and singing devotional and nationalist songs. eastern ancient times to generate enthusiasm Originally derived from a Persian word meaning ‘curtain’, it carries an implicit meaning of subordination. For example, in Hinduism, women are encouraged to remain inside the home or to cover their heads when they are in public view. Purdah is also the veil often used by women of the Muslim communities, which leaves only the eyes showing, the rest of the body being completely covered. symbolic thread of protection Literally ‘protection bond’. An annual ceremony where the sister ties a thread on her brother’s wrist and he vows to protect her honour.

Glossary randi rashtradhan rashtramata rashtriya kam rath rishi riti roopajiva roti sahadharmini sahkari samaj sanghar Saraswati sarthak sasural satyagraha satyagrahi saubhaya kumari seva Shakti shastra shochiniye Sita

sloka srimati stree dharma suhag bindi suruchi svayam sevika swabhav swabhavik swabhavik karya swabhavik sringhar

269

prostitute wealth of the nation mother of the nation national work carriage religious man values prostitute unleavened bread companion colleagues, companions society destructive war Goddess of knowledge and music meaningful husband’s house social boycott of the legal and political institutions of the British Government. protester respectable girl help, service Goddess of strength and courage religious book uneducated and pathetic In Hindu mythology, the wife of Lord Ram. She was noted for her obedience and devotion to her husband. two to three lines of philosophy mode of address to a married woman women’s religious duty dot on a woman’s forehead signifying marriage good taste volunteer nature natural natural tasks natural decoration

270

WOMEN

swadeshi swalamban swaraj swarth-tyag swavalambh tehsil takli taluqdar tandoor thakurain thali tharya toddie toddy tonga uddhar utkarsh vartman vartman yudh vayaktitva videshi vidushi Vishnu Viswakarma zalim zamadarni zamindar zilla

IN THE

INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT

indigenous without greed self rule self-sacrifice self-reliance revenue division of a district spinning wheel landholder oven for roasting food Rajput woman landholder plate used for eating patient slang used by Indians for the British liquor horse-driven carriage upliftment fame/prosperity current/present present struggle identity/personality foreign literate woman A God in Hindu mythology, responsible for the creation and sustenance of the universe. work for the universe ruthless a lady who cleans the premises landholder district

BIBLIOGRAPHY

MANUSCRIPT SOURCES (FORMATTED) Unofficial India Office Library, London:

Papers of the Earl of Halifax, Mss.Eur.C.152. Papers of Sir Frederick Sykes, Mss.Eur.F.150. Papers of William Malcolm Hailey, Mss.Eur.E.220.

Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New Delhi

All India Congress Committee Papers. All India Congress Committee Supplementary Papers. All India Women’s Conference Papers (held on microfilm). Jawaharlal Nehru Correspondence. Jawaharlal Nehru Papers. Krishna Dutt Paliwal: Gaol Diary and Other Papers. Motilal and Jawaharlal Nehru: Correspondence. Motilal Nehru Papers. Vijaylakshmi Pandit Papers.

Official Criminal Investigation Department Office, Lucknow

Police Abstracts of Intelligence for the United Provinces of Agra and Oudh, Weekly, Vol. XLVIII (1930), Vol. XLIX (1931).

India Office Library, London

Civil Disobedience Movement: Events in the United Provinces, L/PJ/7/293. Civil Disobedience Movement: Reports from the Government of India, L/PJ/7/303.

272

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Correspondence between Sir Fredrick Hall and Secretary of State for India, L/PJ/7/43. Reports from Police Force in United Provinces, L/PJ/7/325.

National Archives of India, New Delhi

Census of India 1921, United Provinces of Agra and Oudh, Vol. XVI, Part 1, Report, Vol. XVI, Part II, Imperial Tables, E.H.H. Edye, I.C.S., and W.R. Tennant, I.C.S., Superintendent Census Operations, Allahabad, 1923 (cited in Rao 1994: 32). Proceedings and Files of the Government of India, Home Department, Political Branch. File Nos 4/20/1932, 5/1/1932, 5/4/1932, 5/29/1932, 5/36/1932, 5/46/1932, 14/8/1932.

UP State Archives, Lucknow

Proceedings and Files of the Government of United Provinces of Agra and Oudh, Home Police Department, File Nos 102/1930, 106/1930, 151/1930.

PRINTED SOURCES Material in the Proscribed Book Collection (India Office Library) PIB. 14/3, 1930 PIB. 21/15, 1930 PIB. 27/39, 1931 PIB. 67/19, 1931 PP.Hin.B. 33, 1931 PP.Hin.B. 66, 1931 PP.Hin.B. 146, 1931a PP.Hin.B. 146, 1931b PP.Hin.B. 215, 1930 PP.Hin.B. 298, 1930 PP.Hin.B. 416, 1930 PP.Hin.B. 462, 1923 PP.Hin.B. 3121, 1922 PP.Hin.F. 4, 1931

Bharat mein Kranti ka Itihas. Kalam ka Jauhar. Nari Ratna Shingar. Inquilab ki Lahar. Agra District Congress Committee, Agra, Satyagraha Sangrama. Swatantra ki Devi. Jawahar Lal ki Mata ka Paigam. Bahin Satyavati ka Jail Sandesh. Sarojini Sandesha. Beriyon ki Jhankar. Swarg se Purkho ki Chitti. Ankhon ka Kanta. Striyan aur Samaj. Sabuhai Rajnetik Conference ke Sabhapati ka Bhashan.

Bibliography PP.Hin.F. 25, 1932 PP.Hin.F. 90, 1930

Speech of Welcome to the Ninth District (Benares) Political Conference by Srimati Gangadevi. An Appeal to the Police Force.

Newspapers Aaj, Benares. Abhyudaya, Allahabad. Amrit Bazaar Patrika, Calcutta. Bombay Chronicle, Bombay. Dainik Jagran, Kanpur. Hindustan Times, New Delhi. Hitavada, Bombay. The Leader, Allahabad. Mahratta, Bombay. Modern Review, Calcutta. The Pioneer, Allahabad. Pratap, Kanpur. Saptahik Press, Kanpur. Satyagraha Samachar, Prayag. The Times of India, Lucknow. Vartman, Kashi. The Week, Delhi.

Magazines and Journals Arya Mahila, Benares. Chand, Allahabad. Grihalakshmi, Allahabad. Kamala, Benares. Kumari Darpan, Prayag. Maharathi, New Delhi. Mahila Sarvasv, Aligarh. Prabha, Kanpur. Ran Bheri, Benares. Saraswati, Prayag. Shradhanjali, Benares. Stree Darpan, Allahabad. Stree Dharma, Madras. Sudha, Lucknow.

273

274

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Usha, Jammu. Vidushi, Benares. Viplav, Lucknow.

Hindi Pamphlets Sarojini Sandesha, 1930. Stree Darshan, 1932. Stri Shiksha Darpan, 1923. Striyon ka Swaraj, 1922. Striyon ki Stiti, 1934. Striyon pe Samajik Anayay, 1892.

INTERVIEWS All interviews were conducted between October 1992 and October 1993. All the respondents (unless stated otherwise) were middle-class Hindu women. Agarwal, Gyan Kumari Agarwal, Suman Agarwal, Kusum Agarwal, Tara Arya, Manavati Azad, Usha Kumari Bajpai, Gauri Begum, Hasra Begum, Maazma Devi, Kaushalya Devi, Kishori Devi, Phul Kumari Devi, Tulsa Devi, Godavari Dixit, Uma Goorha, Urmilla Gulshan Gupta, Ramesh Chandra Gupta, Manmathnath Handa, Iqbalwati Itraaji Joshi, Kalpana Khatri, Ram Krishna Loomba, Promilla

Benares, Bania Benares, Bania Benares, Bania Kanpur, Bania Kanpur, Brahmin Farrukhabad, Brahmin Kanpur, Brahmin Lucknow, Muslim Madhya Pradesh, Muslim Aligarh, Brahmin Kanpur, Brahmin Kanpur, Kayastha Kanpur, Brahmin Kanpur, Bania Itawah, Brahmin Lucknow, Kayastha Jhansi, Muslim Kanpur, Bania (male) New Delhi, Bania (male) Ambala, Khatri Faizabad, Brahmin New Delhi, Brahmin Lucknow, Khatri (male) New Delhi, Khatri

Bibliography Misra, Brij Rani Misra, Sushila Devi Misra, Mrs Pandey, Dhirendranath Prasad, Narayan Rathore, Vijay Devi Rohatgi, Sushila Saxena, Satya Saxena, Uttara Saxena, Satish Saxena, Prasad Narayan Sehgal, Lakshmi Shukla, Madhavi Lata Singh, Prof. M.P. Singh, Govardhan Singh, Avadrani Singh, Ram Narain Sinha, Sharad Kumari Tewari, Sri Devi Thapar, Kamala Thapar, Premvati Tripathi, Narayani Tripathi, Kala Verma, Shiv Yashpal, Prakashvati Yogiji, Hirdaya

275

Kanpur, Brahmin Itawah, Brahmin Farrukhabad, Brahmin Kanpur, Brahmin (male) Kanpur, Katiyar (male) Kanpur, Rajput Allahabad, Bania Kanpur, Kayastha Kanpur, Kayastha Mainpuri, Kayastha (male) Bareilly, Kayastha (male) Kanpur, Khatri Kanpur, Brahmin Benares, Thakur (male) Kanpur, Kayastha (male) Jaunpur, Thakur Jaunpur, Thakur (male) Kanpur, Kayastha Kanpur, Brahmin Kanpur, Khatri Punjab, Khatri Jubrajpur/Kanpur, Brahmin Kanpur, Brahmin Shahjahanpur, Kayastha (male) Lucknow, Khatri Lucknow, Kayastha (male)

ARTICLES

AND

BOOKS

This is a select bibliography. Not all works listed here have been used directly in this volume, but many of them have helped to provide background information.

English Adam, Ann Marie, 1996, Architecture in the Family Way: Doctors, Houses and Women, 1870–1900, Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University. Agarwal, Bina, 1989, ‘Women, Land and Ideology in India’, in Haleh Afshar and Bina Agarwal (eds), Women, Poverty and Ideology in Asia: Contradictory Pressures, Uneasy Resolutions, Hampshire: Macmillan Press. ———, 2000, ‘The Idea of Gender Equality: From Legislative Vision to Everyday Family Practices’, in Romila Thapar (ed.), India: Another Millennium?, New Delhi: Penguin.

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Agnew, V., 1979, Elite Women in Indian Politics, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House. Ahmad, K.C., 1984, ‘Gandhi, Women’s Roles and the Freedom Movement’, Occasional Papers on History and Society, 19: 1–24. Al-Ali, Nadje, 2000, ‘Nationalisms, National Identities and Nation States: Gendered Perspectives’ (Review Article), Nation and Nationalism, 6 (4): 631–38. Allen, Judith, 1986, ‘Evidence and Silence: Feminism and the Limits of History’, in Carol Pateman and Elizabeth Gross (eds), Feminist Challenges: Social and Political Theory, Australia: Allen and Unwin. Alloula, Malek, 1987, The Colonial Harem, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Altekar, A.S., 1962, The Position of Women in Hindu Civilisation, New Delhi: Motilal. Alter, Joseph, 1994, ‘Celibacy, Sexuality and the Transformation of Gender into Nationalism in North India’, The Journal of Asian Studies, 53 (1): 45–66. Amin, Shahid, 1984, ‘Gandhi as Mahatma: Gorakhpur District, Eastern UP, 1921–22’, in Ranajit Guha (ed.), Subaltern Studies III: Writings on South Asian History and Politics, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Anderson, Benedict, 1991, Imagined Communities: Reflection on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, London: Verso. Anthias, Floya and Nira Yuval-Davis, 1989, ‘Introduction’, in Nira YuvalDavis and Floya Anthias (eds), Women–Nation–State, London: Macmillan. Arnold, David, 1994, ‘The Colonial Prison: Power, Knowledge and Penology in Nineteenth-Century India’, in David Arnold and David Hardiman (eds), Subaltern Studies VIII: Essays in Honour of Ranajit Guha, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Bagchi, Jasodhara, 1990, ‘Representing Nationalism: Ideology of Motherhood in Colonial Bengal’, Economic and Political Weekly, XXV (42–43): 20–27. Baig, T.A. (ed.), 1958, Women of India, New Delhi: Ministry of Information and Broadcasting. ———, 1976, India’s Women Power, New Delhi: Chand. Bakshi, S.R., 1987, Gandhi and the Status of Women, New Delhi: Criterion. Bandyopadhyay, Sibaji, 1995, ‘The Contemporary Popular Bengali Fiction: Textual Strategies’, in Jasodhara Bagchi (ed.), Indian Women: Myth and Reality, London: Sangam Books. Banerjee, Sikata, 2003, ‘Gender and Nationalism: The Masculinisation of Hinduism and Female Political Participation in India’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 935 (1): 167–78. Bannerjee, Himani, 1995, ‘Attired in Virtue: The Discourse on Shame (lajja) and Clothing of the Bhadramahila in Colonial Bengal’, in Bharati Ray (ed.), From the Seams of History: Essays on Indian Women, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Barrett, M., 1980, Women’s Oppression Today: Problems in Marxist–Feminist Analysis, London: Verso.

Bibliography

277

Basu, Aparna, 1976, ‘The Role of Women in the Indian Struggle for Freedom’, in B.R. Nanda (ed.), Indian Women: From Purdah to Modernity, New Delhi: Radiant Publishers. ———, 1995, ‘A Nationalist Feminist: Mridula Sarabhai (1911–1974)’, Indian Journal of Gender Studies, 2 (1): 2–24. Basu, Tapan, P. Datta, Sumit Sarkar, Tanika Sarkar and S. Sen, 1993, Khaki Shorts and Saffron Flags: A Critique of the Hindu Right, New Delhi: Orient Longman. Bayly, C.A., 1975, The Local Roots of Indian Politics: Allahabad, 1880–1924, Oxford: Clarendon Press. ———, 1983, Townsmen and Bazaars: North Indian Society in the Age of British Expansion, 1770–1870, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———, 1988a, ‘What is Third World History?’, in Juliet Gardiner (ed.), What is History Today?, Hampshire: Macmillan. ———, 1988b, Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Beetham, Margaret, 1998, ‘The Reinvention of the English Domestic Woman: Class and Race in the 1890s Woman’s Magazine’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 21 (3): 223–33. Bell, Diane, Karen Caplan and Wazir Karim (eds), 1993, Gendered Fields: Women, Men and Ethnography, London: Routledge. Besant, Annie, 1917, The Birth of New India, Adyar, Madras: Theosophical Publishing House. Bhabha, Homi, 1983, ‘The Other Question’, in Padmini Mongi (ed.), Contemporary Postcolonial Theory: A Reader, London and New York: Arnold. Bharucha, Rustom, 2000, ‘Thinking Through Culture’, in Romila Thapar (ed.), India: Another Millennium?, New Delhi: Penguin. Blom, Ida, 2000, ‘Gender and Nation in International Comparison’, in Ida Blom, Karen Hagemann and Catherine Hall (eds), Gendered Nations: Nationalisms and Gender Order in the Long Nineteenth Century, Oxford: Berg. Borland, Katherine, 1991, ‘That’s Not What I Said: Interpretive Conflict in Oral Narrative Research’, in S.C. Gluck and D. Patai (eds), Women’s Words: The Feminist Practice of Oral History, London: Routledge. Borthwick, M., 1984, The Changing Role of Women in Bengal, 1804–1905, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Bose, S.C., 1964, The Indian Struggle, 1920–42, New York: Asia Publishing House. Bose, Sugata and Ayesha Jalal, 1997, Modern South Asia: History, Culture, Political Economy, London: Routledge. Bowers, C.A., 1984, The Promise of Theory: Education and the Politics of Cultural Change, New York: Longman. Bracewell, Wendy, 1996, ‘Women, Motherhood, and Contemporary Serbian Nationalism’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 19 (1–2). Braham, Peter, Ali Rattansi and Richard Skellington (eds), 1992, Racism and Antiracism: Inequalities, Opportunities and Policies, London: Sage.

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Broomfield, J.H., 1968, Elite Conflict in a Plural Society: Twentieth Century Bengal, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Brown, J.M., 1977, Gandhi and Civil Disobedience: The Mahatma in Indian Politics, 1928–1934, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———, 1989, Gandhi: Prisoner of Hope, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Burke, Peter (ed.), 1991, New Perspectives on Historical Writing, Oxford: Polity. Burton, Antoinette, 1997, ‘House/Daughter/Nation: Interiority, Architecture and Historical Imagination in Janaki Majumdar’s “Family History”’, The Journal of Asian Studies, 56 (4): 921–46. ———, 1998, ‘Some Trajectories of “Feminism” and “Imperialism”’, Gender and History, 10 (3): 558–68. Butalia, Urvashi, 1993, ‘Community, State and Gender: On Women’s Agency during Partition’, Economic and Political Weekly, XXVIII (17). Caplan, Pat, 1989, ‘Celibacy as a Solution? Mahatma Gandhi and Brahmacharya’, in Pat Caplan (ed.), The Cultural Construction of Sexuality, London: Routledge. Chakrabarty, Dipesh, 1992, ‘Postcoloniality and the Artifice of History: Who Speaks for Indian Pasts?’, Representations, 37: 1–26. ———, 1993, ‘The Difference-Deferral of a Colonial Modernity: Public Debates on Domesticity in British Bengal’, History Workshop Journal, 36: 1–34. Chakravarti, Uma, 1989, ‘Whatever Happened to the Vedic Dasi? Orientalism, Nationalism and a Script for the Past’, in Kumkum Sangari and Sudesh Vaid (eds), Recasting Women: Essays in Colonial History, New Delhi: Kali for Women. Chakravarty, R., 1980, Communists in India’s Women’s Movement, 1940–1950, New Delhi: People’s Publishing House. Chandra, Bipan, 1972, Elements of Continuity and Change in Early Nationalist Activity, paper presented at the Symposium on Continuity and Change in the Indian National Movement, 33rd Session, Indian History Congress, Muzaffarpur. Chandra, Bipan, Mridula Mukherjee, Aditya Mukherjee, K.N. Panikkar and Sucheta Mahajan, 1998, India’s Struggle for Independence, New Delhi: Penguin. Chapkis, W. and E. Cynthia (eds), 1983, Of Common Cloth: Women in the Global Textile Industry, Amsterdam: Transnational Institute. Chatterjee, Manini, 2001, ‘1930: Turning Point in the Participation of Women in the Freedom Struggle’, Social Scientist, 7–8: 39–47. Chatterjee, Partha, 1989, ‘The Nationalist Resolution of the Women’s Question’, in Kumkum Sangari and Sudesh Vaid (eds), Recasting Women: Essays in Colonial History, New Delhi: Kali for Women. ———, 1993, The Nation and its Fragments: Colonial and Post-Colonial Histories, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. ———, 1996, ‘Whose Imagined Community’, in Gopal Balakrishnan (ed.), Mapping the Nation, London: Verso.

Bibliography

279

Chattopadhyay, K., 1983, Indian Women’s Battle for Freedom, New Delhi: Abhinav. Chattopadhyay, R., 1989, ‘The Women Perceived: A Study in the Changing Visual Iconography, Indian Women Myth and Reality’, paper presented at the national seminar, School of Women’s Studies, Jadavpur University, Calcutta, March. Chaudhuri, Maitrayee, 1999, ‘Gender in the Making of the Indian NationState’, Sociological Bulletin, 48 (1 & 2). Chaudhuri, N. and M. Strobel (eds), 1992, Western Women and Imperialism: Complicity and Resistance, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Chhachhi, Amrita, 1991, ‘Forced Identities: The State, Communalism, Fundamentalism and Women in India’, in Deniz Kandiyoti (ed.), Women, Islam and the State, London: Macmillan. Chodorow, N., 1978, The Reproduction of Mothering: Psychoanalysis and the Sociology of Gender, Berkeley: University of California Press. ———, 1979, ‘Mothering, Male Dominance and Capitalism’, in Z. Einstein (ed.), Capitalist Patriarchy and the Case for Socialist Feminism, New York: Monthly Review Press. ———, 1989, Feminism and Psychoanalytic Theory, London: Blackwell. Chowdhury-Sengupta, Indira, 1992, ‘Mother India and Mother Victoria: Motherhood and Nationalism in Nineteenth Century Bengal’, South Asia Research, 12. Clark, A., 1989, ‘Whores and Gossips: Sexual Reputation in London, 1770–1825’, in A. Angerman, G. Binnema, A. Keunen, V. Poels and J. Zirkzee (eds), Current Issues in Women’s History, London: Routledge. Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi (CWMG), 1953–73, Vols 1–59, New Delhi: Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India. Conlon, Lil, 1969, Cumann na mBan and the Women of Ireland, Kilkenny, Ireland: Kilkenny People Press. Connell, Robert, 1987, Gender and Power: Society, the Person and Sexual Politics, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Connolly, Clara, 1991, ‘Washing Our Linen: One Year of Women Against Fundamentalism’, Feminist Review, 37. Cott, Nancy, 1978, ‘Passionlessness: An Interpretation of Victorian Sexual Ideology’, 1790–1850’, Signs, 4 (2). Cousins, M.E., 1941, Indian Womanhood Today, Allahabad: Kitabistan. Curgel, D., 1920, ‘The Reproductive Life of Indian Women’, Indian Journal of Medical Research, 8 (2). Das, V., 1976, ‘Indian Women: Work Power and Status’, in B.R. Nanda (ed.), Indian Women: From Purdah to Modernity, New Delhi: Vikas. Davidoff, Leonore, 1995, Worlds Between: Historical Perspectives on Gender and Class, Cambridge: Polity Press. Davin, A., 1978, ‘Imperialism and Motherhood’, History Workshop Journal, 5. Davis, Natalie Z., 1976, ‘“Women’s History” in Transition: The European Case’, Feminist Studies, 3 (3 & 4).

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Davis, Natalie Z., 1988, ‘What is Women’s History?’, in Juliet Gardiner (ed.), What is History Today?, Hampshire: Macmillan. Desai, A.R., 1979, Peasant Struggles in India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Desai, Neera, 1986, ‘From Articulation to Accommodation: Women’s Movement in India’, in Leela Dube, Eleanor Leacock and Shirley Ardener (eds), Visibility and Power: Essays on Women in Society and Development, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Dietrich, G., 1985, ‘“Personal is Political”: Women and the Process of Political Participation’, Teaching Politics, 10. Dutta, K.K., 1957, Freedom Movement in Bihar, Vol. 11, Government of Bihar, India. Eck, Diana L. and Devaki Jain (eds), 1986, Speaking of Faith: Cross-cultural Perspectives on Women, Religion and Social Change, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Einhorn, Barbara, 1996, ‘Introduction’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 19 (1 & 2). Einstein, Z.R. (ed.), 1979, Capitalist Patriarchy and the Case for Socialist Feminism, New York: Monthly Review Press. Elshtain, J.B., 1993, Public Man, Private Woman: Women in Social and Political Thought, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Engels, Dagmar, 1983, ‘The Age of Consent Act of 1891: Colonial Ideology in Bengal’, South Asia Research, 3 (2). ———, 1989, ‘The Limits of Gender Ideology: Bengali Women, The Colonial State, and the Private Sphere, 1890–1930’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 12 (4). Enloe, Cynthia, 1989, Bananas, Beaches and Bases: Making Feminist Sense of International Relations, London: Pandora. Everett, Jana, 1981, Women and Social Change in India, New Delhi: Heritage. Fahey, Tony, 1995, ‘Privacy and the Family: Conceptual and Empirical Reflections’, Sociology, 29 (4). First, Ruth, 1982, 117 Days: An Account of Confinement and Interrogation under the South African 90-day Detention Law, London: Penguin. Fleischmann, Ellen, 1996, ‘Crossing the Boundaries of History: Exploring Oral History in Researching Palestinian Women in the Mandate Period’, Women’s History Review, 5 (3). Fonow, M. and J. Cook (eds), 1991, Beyond Methodology: Feminist Scholarship as Lived Research, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Forbes, Geraldine, 1979, ‘Women’s Movements in India: Traditional Symbols and New Roles’, in M.S.A. Rao (ed.), Social Movements in India, Vol. II, New Delhi: Manohar. ———, 1980, ‘Goddesses or Rebels? The Women Revolutionaries of Bengal’, The Oracle, 2 (2): 1–15. ———, 1981, ‘The Indian Women’s Movement: A Struggle for Women’s Rights or National Liberation’, in G. Minault (ed.), The Extended Family:

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281

Women and Political Participation in India and Pakistan, New Delhi: Chanakya Publications. Forbes, Geraldine, 1982, ‘Caged Tigers: “First wave” Feminism in India’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 5 (6). ———, 1988, ‘The Politics of Respectability: Indian Women and the Indian National Congress’, in D.A. Low (ed.), The Indian National Congress: Centenary Hindsights, Oxford: Oxford University Press. ———, 1998, Women in Modern India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Foucault, Michel, 1977, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, New York: Vintage. ———, 1981, The History of Sexuality, Vol. I: An Introduction, London: Cambridge. Freeman, Mark, 1993, Rewriting the Self: History, Memory and Narrative, New York: Routledge. Friedan, B., 1963, The Feminine Mystique, Harmondsworth: Penguin. Frieden, Sandra, 1989, ‘Transformative Subjectivity in the Writings of Christa Wolf ’, in The Personal Narratives Group (ed.), Interpreting Women’s Lives: Feminist Theory and Personal Narratives, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Gamarnikow, Eva, D. Morgan and J. Purvis (eds), 1983, The Public and the Private, London: Heinemann Educational Books. Gandhi, M.K., 1927, An Autobiography or The Story of My Experiments with Truth, Ahmedabad: Navajivan. ———, 1930, Young India. ———, 1942, Women and Social Injustice, Ahmedabad: Navajivan. ———, 1962, Letters to Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, Ahmedabad: Navajivan. Gandhi, Nandita and Nandita Shah, 1992, The Issues at Stake: Theory and Practice in the Contemporary Women’s Movement in India, New Delhi: Kali for Women. Gardiner, Juliet (ed.), 1988, What is History Today?, Hampshire: Macmillan. Gedge, Evelyn Clara and Mithan Choksi (eds), 1929, Women in Modern India, Bombay: Taraporewala. Genovese-Fox, E., 1982, ‘Placing Women’s History in History’, New Left Review, 133. ———, 1987, ‘Culture and Consciousness in the Intellectual History of European Women’, Signs, 12 (3). Ghulam, Murshid, 1982, Reluctant Debutante: Response of Bengali Women to Modernization, 1849–1905, Rajshahi, Bangladesh: Rajshahi University. Gluck, S.C. and D. Patai (eds), 1991, Women’s Words: The Feminist Practice of Oral History, London: Routledge. Gopal, K., 1966, ‘The Development of the Indian National Congress as a Mass Organisation, 1918–23’, Journal of Asian Studies, 25 (3). Gopal, S. (ed.), 1972–1982, Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, Vol. II–VI, New Delhi: Orient Longman. ———, 1975, Jawaharlal Nehru: A Biography, Vol. I, 1889–1947, London: Jonathan Cape. ——— (ed.), 1980, Jawaharlal Nehru: An Anthology, Calcutta: Eastend.

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Thapar-Björkert, Suruchi, 1998, ‘Gender, Nationalism and the Colonial Jail: A Study of Women Activists in Uttar Pradesh’, Women’s History Review, 7 (4). ———, 1999, ‘Negotiating Otherness: Dilemmas of a Non-Western Researcher’, Journal of Gender Studies, 8: 57–71. ———, 2000, ‘Nationalist Memories: Interviewing Indian Middle Class Nationalist Women’, Oral History Journal, 27 (2): 35–46. Thapar-Björkert, Suruchi (with Louise Ryan), 2002, ‘Mother India/Mother Ireland’—Comparative Gendered Dialogues of Colonialism and Nationalism in the Early Twentieth Century’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 25 (30): 301–13. Thapar-Björkert, Suruchi and Marsha Henry, 2004, ‘Re-assessing the Research Relationship: Location, Position and Power in Fieldwork Accounts’, International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 7 (5): 363–81. Tharu, Susie and K. Lalita (eds), 1993, Women Writing in India, 600 B.C. to the Present (Vol 11: The 20th Century), New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Tharu, Susie and Tejaswani Niranjana, 1996, ‘Problems for a Contemporary Theory of Gender’, Shahid Amin and Dipesh Chakravarty (eds), Subaltern Studies IX: Writings on South Asian History and Society, Delhi: Oxford University Press. Thompson, Andrew and Ralph Fevre, 2001, ‘The National Question: Sociological Reflections on Nation and Nationalism’, Nations and Nationalism, 7(3): 297–315. Thompson, Paul, 1988, The Voice of the Past: Oral History, (2nd edition), Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tomlinson, B.R., 1976, ‘Imperialism, Nationalism and Politics: The Indian National Congress 1934–42’, PhD thesis, Cambridge University. Torri, Michelguglielmo, 1990, ‘“Westernised Middle Class” Intellectuals and Society in Late Colonial India’, Economic and Political Weekly, XV (4). Vaid, Sudesh, 1985, ‘Ideologies on Women in Nineteenth Century Britain, 1850s–1870s’, Economic and Political Weekly, XX (3). Vernon, Betty, 1982, Ellen Wilkinson: 1891–1947, London: Croom Helm. Vickers, Jeanne, 1991, Women and the World Economic Crisis, London: Zed Press. Vickery, Amanda, 1993, ‘Golden Age to Separate Spheres? A Review of the Categories and Chronology of English Women’s History’, The Historical Journal, 36: 383–414. Viswesaran, Kamala, 1996, ‘Small Speeches, Subaltern Gender: Nationalist Ideology and its Historiography’, in Shahid Amin and Dipesh Chakravarty (eds), Subaltern Studies IX: Writings on South Asian History and Society, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Walby, Sylvia, 1997, Gender Transformations, London: Routledge. Walkowitz, Judith R., 1980, Prostitution and Victorian Society, Women, Class and the State, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wallace, Tina (ed.), 1991, Changing Perceptions: Writings on Gender and Development, Oxford: Oxfam.

294

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INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT

Ward, Margaret, 1989, Unmanageable Revolutionaries: Women and Irish Nationalism, London: Pluto Press. Washbrook, David, 1976, The Emergence of Provincial Politics: Madras Presidency 1870–1920, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Weiner, Gaby (ed.), 1987, Gender under Scrutiny: New Enquiries in Education, London: Open University Press. White, Cynthia L., 1970, Women’s Magazines, 1693–1968, London: Michael Joseph. Wilkinson, S. and C. Kitzinger, 1996, Representing the Other: A Feminism and Psychology Reader, London: Sage. Wolf, Diane (ed.), 1996, Feminist Dilemmas in Fieldwork, Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Wolf, Noami, 1990, The Beauty Myth, Toronto: Vintage. Wolkowitz, Carol, 1987, ‘Controlling Women’s Access to Political Power: A Case Study in Andhra Pradesh, India’, in Haleh Afshar (ed.), Women, State and Ideology: Studies from Africa and Asia, Hampshire: Macmillan. Wolpert, Stanley, 1977, A New History of India, New York: Oxford University Press. Yang, Anand, 1987, ‘Disciplining Natives: Prisons and Prisoners in Early Nineteenth Century India’, South Asia, 10 (2): 29–45. Yapp, M.E., 1988, ‘What is Third World History?’, in Juliet Gardiner (ed.), What is History Today?, Hampshire: Macmillan. Yuval-Davis, N., 1997, Gender and Nation, London: Sage. Yuval-Davis, N. and F. Anthias, 1989, Women–Nation–State, New York: St Martin’s Press. Zemon-Davis, Natalie, 1988, ‘What is Women’s History’, in Juliet Gardiner (ed.), What is History Today?, Hampshire: Macmillan.

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INDEX

Abhyudaya, 28 Agarwal, Girij Kishore, 183 Agarwal, Kusum, 28 Agarwal, Ratneshwari, 222 Agarwal, Tara Devi, 161, 206 ahimsa, 79, 152 Ahmedabad Textile Labourers Association, 59 Aligarh Muslim University, 97 Allahabad District Congress Committee, 219 Allahabad District Jail, 162 Allahabad Printing Works, 127 Allahabad University, 63 All India Congress Committee. See Congress Party All India Women’s Conference, 58, 227 Ambujammal, 57 Ammal, Narayani, 128 Anandamath, 194 Anand Bhawan, 81, 115 Andaman Islands, 19 Andhra Mahila Sabha, 57 Anjuman Tarakki Urdu, 97 Ansari, M.A., 119 anti-drink campaign, 57 Arms Act, 131 Arora, Jagannatha Prasad, 183 Arora, Narayan Prasad, 198 arrest: courting, 150–54; reasons for, 148–49 articles: on nationalist participation, 177 Arya Mahila Samaj, 220, 221 Arya, Manavati, 115, 128, 176 Arya Marriage Bill, 117

Arya Nari Samaj, 221 Arya Samaj meetings, 174 Asaf Ali, Aruna, 208 Ashfaqulla, 19 Aurobindo Ghosh, 129 autonomy, violation of national, 146 Azad, Chandrashekhar, 20, 126, 186 Azad Government, 97 Azad Hind Fauj. See Indian National Army Azad, Usha, 207 Azizan, 99, 100 Baba Ramchandra of Avadh, 62 Bachchan, Harbans Rai, 89 Baig, Tara Ali, 44 bangles, 113, 152 Basu, Aparna, 142 Basu, Satyendra Kumar, 127 beating up of women. See lathi beauty: concepts of women’s, 239–40; natural, of women, 254 Begum, Atiya, 63 Benares bomb case, 131 Benares Hindu University (BHU), 97 Benares Youth League, 131 Bengal Criminal Amendment Law Act, 131 Bengal Criminal Laws Amendment Ordinance (April 1930), 149 Bengal: colonial, 172; political activity in, 56 Bengali: families in Bihar, 59; reformers, 229

Index Bengali literature, 218 Benn, Wedgwood, 110 Benthamite panoptican plan, 156 Besant Kanya Mahavidyalaya, 227 Besant, Annie, 227, 242 bhadralok, 171, 229. See also bhadramahila bhadramahila, 43, 229, 239, 240 Bhagini Samaj, 55 Bharatmata, 84, 87, 88 Bhargav, Rukmini Devi, 253 Bhargava, Dulare Lal, 221 bharti chanda, 62 Bhattacharya, Durgadas, 64 Bhuradia, Meenadevi, 249 Birkenhead, Lord, 69 Bismil, Ram Prasad: 19, 20, 90, 126, 127 Biswas, Khirod Prabha, 201 body: colonisation of the, 140 Bombay, 46, 55, 56, 63, 66, 108, 140–41 Bose, Khudi Ram, 127 Bose, Subhas Chandra, 24, 120, 128, 176 boundaries: violation of national, 146 boycott: of foreign cloth, 47, 106; of government institutions, 54 brahmacharya, 78 British: administrators, 141; —, killing of, 129; atrocities, 126, 131; colonialism, 40, 41; discipline and control, 24; government, loyalty towards, 112; police force, 151; Raj, 63, 188; rule, resentment towards, 142; rule, the first struggle against, 42. See also colonialism broadcast of patriotic songs. See patriotic songs Cambridge School, 42 cartoons, 28–29, 89, 185 celibacy, 78 Chaatri Sangha, 56 Champaran indigo cultivators, 125 Chand, 65, 218, 220, 222, 231 charkha, 109–10, 118, 122, 181–84, 233 Charya, Pandit Sudharshan, 219 Chatterjee, Bankim Chandra, 129, 194 Chatterjee, Saratchandra, 127 Chattopadhyay, Kamala Devi, 77, 105, 150

297

Chauhan, Subhadra Kumari, 177 Chauri Chaura, 125 child-bearing and nurturing, 84 child marriage, 65 Chintamani, C.Y., 63 Chittagong Armoury Raids, 131 chowkidari tax, 55, 122 Christian: community in Bombay, 55; missionary women, 192 Christian norms and Indian law, 211 civil disobedience movement: 121, 110, 140; withdrawal of, 122–23, 125; women’s participation in, 60, 70, 98, 125, 141, 177; —, communal relations and, 94–95; —, Gandhi’s thoughts on, 77–78 clandestine: meetings, 202–8; publishing, 97 cloth. See foreign cloth colonialism: fashion as a form of, 238; women’s relationship with, 40, 45, 233, 246 colonisation: feminisation and, 192 Communist Party of India, 126 Congress Party: 28, 59, 64, 74, 91, 119, 208, 263; All India Congress Committee, 57; civil disobedience, decision to undertake, 69; Congress Working Committee, 20; Desh Sevika Sangh, collaboration with, 55; District Congress Committee, 54, 98; District Volunteer Boards, 54; ideology of swadeshi, 202; Lahore session, 69; leaders, 44, 46, 123, 147; use of religious symbols by, 86–87 Congress Radio, 208 Congress Socialist Party, 64 conversion: of Mohammedans into Hindus, 64 Cornwallis, Lord, 165 Cousins, Margaret, 105, 192 criminal ward, 159 Cripps, Stafford, 123 Cuntak, Chail Bihari, 188, 189, 199 Dainik Jagran, 28, 170, 190 Dandi March, 104–5

298

WOMEN

IN THE

INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT

Das, Bina, 165 Das, C.R., 24, 56 Dayal, Lala Har, 127 Dayal, Narsingh, 106 Debi, Sarla, 58, 60, 161 Defence of India Act (1915), 126 demonstrations, 22, 56, 120 Deshmukh, Durgabai, 57 Desh Sevika Sangh, 55 Devi, Basanti, 24, 56 Devi, Bhagwati, 58 Devi, Chandra, 222 Devi, Damyanti, 111 Devi, Ganga, 74, 161, 203, 204, 205 Devi, Godavari, 93 Devi, Gulabo, 33 Devi, Kaushalya, 75 Devi, Kishori, 199, 200 Devi, Krishna, 59 Devi, Nanibala, 165 Devi, Narayani, 87, 220 Devi, Parvati, 111, 144 Devi, Rajbansi, 58 Devi, Ratneshwari, 185 Devi, Savitiri, 58 Devi, Shakuntala, 58, 59 Devi, Shanti, 59 Devi, Sumati, 219 Devi, Sundari, 220 Devi, Tulsa, 206 Devi, Urmila, 56, 112, 117 Devi, Vidya, 188 Devi, Vijay. See Rathore, Vijay Devi dharma: 220; nationalist activities and, 186. See also women dharna, 111, 112, 116, 117, 149, 151. See also demonstrations Dikshit, Surya Sahai, 127 Dixit, Kishori, 207 Dixit, Uma, 74, 188, 190, 199, 200, 207 dowry, 58 Dutta, B.K., 127 Dutta, Kanai Lal, 127 education: in Hindi, 222, 224, 233; respondents’ levels of, 33; women’s, 59, 65, 222–35; —, links with

motherhood and nation, 241–48; —, reforms and, 46, 228; —, support to, 56–59, 65 educational institutions, 60, 63, 120 elite women. See women Explosive Substances Act, 131 Farrukhabad jail, 164 fashion, 237–38, 240, 246, 251, 253–55, 257 Fategarh District Jail, 154 female intelligentsia, 47, 55 femininity, 25, 91, 119, 193, 234, 254; women revolutionaries and, 129, 130 feminisation: of the nation, 192 feminism, 83, 209 First, Ruth, 153 flag, 70, 101, 106, 122, 130, 151, 162 foreign cloth: campaign against, 44, 59–60, 107–15, 182; compared to indigenous cloth, 182, picketing, 55, 58, 110, 112, 117; —, Hindu–Muslim relations and, 114 forest laws: breaking of, 55 Gandhi, Mohandas Karamchand: 115, 194; on the Constructive Programme, 181–82; on women in nationalist activities, 22, 76–79, 91–92, 104, 105, 186; —, analysis of, 261–62 Gandhi–Irwin Pact (1931), 122 Gandhi, Kasturba, 78, 183, 194 gandhiwadi, 125 Gangadevi, Srimati, 152, 219, 222 Ganju, M.S.P., 117 gender: 192, 193, 229, 241, 246, 248–57; historiography, 31–32, 41, 42, 85; roles in national movement, 112; solidarity, as a basis for, 141; in magazines, 219, 240 Ghadr, 125–26 Ghosh, Latika, 56 Gokhale, Avantikabai, 55 Goorha, Urmilla, 74, 203 Gopal, Jai, 207 Government of India Act (1935), 65, 123

Index Goyanka, Indumati, 152 Grihalakshmi, 219–20; 221 Gujarati Hindu Stree Mandal, 55 Gupta, Govind Ram, 111, 112, 151 Gupta, Madan Mohan, 20 Gupta, Raj Kumari, 20 Guru, Raj, 207 Handa, Iqbalwati, 172, 225 Harijan uplift, 64 Hayat, Sultana, 96 Hindi education. See education Hindu: 95; communal associations, 64, 94; merchants, 114; middle-class, in Bengal, 48, 172; picketers, 114; relations with Muslims, 95–96, 115 Hindu Code Bill, 57 Hindu Mahasabha, 64, 69 Hindu Mahila Samaj, 55 Hindustan Republican Association, 28 Hindustan Republican Socialist Party, 28, 196, 207 Hindustan Socialist Republican Association, 20, 90, 126 households: politics within, 178 Husain, Zafiz Hidayat, 115 Hutheesing, Krishna Nehru: 81, 101, 106, 146; jail experiences, 142, 154, 155, 157, 160, 162, 163 Ilahabadi, Akbar, 63 illiteracy, 57, 58, 66. See also education Imperial Dock Company, 150 imprisonment: 190; of political individuals, 158; of mothers, 156, 161. See also prison Independence Day, 170 Independence League, 120 Indian Consent Act (1891), 191 Indian League of London, 147 Indian National Army, 115, 128, 176, 185 Indian National Congress. See Congress Party Indian Republican Army, 56 Indra, Brahmachari, 127 Irwin, Lord, 69, 147, 110 Itraaji, 179

299

jail: classification in, 154–57; conditions in, and women prisoners, 142; conditions of Indian, 147; women’s experiences in, 141, 158. See also prison Jama Masjid, 114 Jha, Ganga Nath, 63 Jhaveri, Vithalbhai, 208 Johari, Triveni Shah, 203 joint family, 73, 176 journals. See literature Jugantar, 56 Jyoti Sangh, 60 Kailash, Lady, 188 Kakori, 19–20, 126, 127, 131, 187 kala pani, 88 Kali, 129 Kamala, 102, 218, 220, 247, 249 Kanpur, 20, 32–33, 65, 73, 74, 94, 107, 112, 161, 187, 188, 203; clandestine activities in, 206–7; organisations in, 117; prostitutes in, 98, 99; publications from, 170, 219, 221, 223; Purn Library of, 127; rioting in, 198 Kapur, Jaidev, 126 Karam Yogi, 126 kartavya, 232 Kaur, Harnam, 190 Kaur, Kesar, 128 khadi: 73, 106, 182, 184, 202, 246; in Constructive Programme, 181–85; as a nationalist symbol, 108–9, 130, 262; use of, 33, 60, 111, 205, 238 Khatri, Ram Krishna, 90 Khilafat movement, 54, 94 Khilafat organization, 64 Khurshedbehn, 77, 104 Kibe, Kamalabai, 253 Kisanin Panchayat, 62 Kisan Sabha, 62 Kochar, T.D., 112 krantikari, 125, 263 Kripalani, Sucheta, 102, 124, 208, 247 kulastree, 240 Kumari Darpan, 227 Kumari, Raj, 131

300

WOMEN

IN THE

INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT

Kumari, Sukha, 220 Kumari, Surya, 188 Kumar, Yatindra, 181 Kusumlata, 222 Lahiri, Rajendra, 19 Lahore Borstal prison, 186 Lahore Central Jail, 198 Lahore conspiracy case, 195, 196 Lahore Conspiracy Case Ordinance (1930), 149 land reforms, 122 land revenue, 121 Lata, Kumari Amrit, 220 lathi: use of, 55, 144–45, 146, 247 Lawrence, Emmeline Pethick, 156 Leader (newspaper). See The Leader Lenin Day, 196 liquor: picketing of, 44, 45, 55, 115–20; —, British response to, 114, 149; —, Gandhi on, 104, 109; —, in literature, 112, 151; —, opposition to, 57. See also toddy literature: 158, 163, 177, 185, 217, 240; Hindi magazines and newspapers, 151, 174, 177, 217–18, 221, 255; —, covers of, 218–22; —, revolutionary, 28; proscribed, 28, 97, 148, 203, 207; sources for studying, 27–30. See also press Lohia, Ram Manohar, 60, 124, 130 Lucknow Central Prison, 162 Macaulay, T.B., 165 Madhuri, 218 Madras, 56, 172 magazines. See literature Maharathi, 27, 221, 239 Mahila Charka Samiti, 59 Mahila Mandal (in Benares), 185, 222 Mahila Rashtriya Sangha (MRS), 56 Mahila Satyagraha, 117 Mahila Satyagraha Samiti, 111 Mahila Swaraja Sabha (in Kanpur), 117 Mainpuri conspiracy case, 127 Malaviya, Madan Mohan, 30, 63, 94

Mandal Commission report: agitation against, 263 marriage, 229, 234, 243, 249; early, 57, 60, 65, 191, 230; participation in national movement and, 76, 93, 195. See also women Marshall Square, 153 Martial Law Ordinance (1930), 149 masculinity, 88, 113, 152, 180, 191–93 Mayo, Katherine, 191, 230 McDonald, Ramsay, 69 Mehrotra, Phulkumari, 219 Mehta, Hansa, 44 Mehta, Sharda, 222 Mehta, Usha, 208 Menon, Krishna, 147 Militant Women’s Social and Political Union, 156 Misra, Brahmdutt, 195, 196 Misra, Sushila Devi, 36, 195, 196, 197 Mitra, Suniti Debi, 110 modernity: 48, 49, 171–72, 217, 228, 234, 248; Gandhi on, 77; Nehru on, 80. See also women Mohila Sudhar, 222 Moplah Rebellion, 125 motherhood: 48, 88, 191–97; Eastern emphasis on, 236; nationalism and, 83–85; constructs of, in India, 242, 244 Mother India, 191, 230 motherland: 85, 88, 130 Muslim: 64, 121; civil disobedience movement and, 141; communal associations, 64; elite, 60, 96; relations with Hindus, 95–96, 114, 198, 246; women, 56; —, participation in movement, 96, 115; —, segregation, 93–94; —, working-class, 97. See also Khilafat Muslim League, 64, 69 Naidu, Padmaja, 106 Naidu, Sarojini, 44, 54, 65, 85–86, 105–6, 119 Naini Jail, 155

Index Naoroji, Goshiben, 54 Narayan, Jayaprakash, 60, 124 Nari Satyagraha Samiti, 56 Nath, Raja Narendra, 219 national boundaries. See boundaries national flag, 122 natural art, 254 Nauchandi Mela, 111 Naujavan Bharat Sabha, 163 Navin, Bal Krishna Sharma, 89, 221 Nawal el Sa’adawi, 153, 156, 158 nazrana, 61 Nehru family, 22, 65, 66, 150, 155. See also Pandit, Vijaylakshmi Nehru, Jawaharlal, 63, 66, 69, 76, 81 Nehru, Kamala, 81, 100, 101, 106, 110, 182, 219 Nehru, Krishna. See Hutheesing, Krishna Nehru Nehru, Motilal, 30, 69, 81, 119 Nehru, Rameshwari, 65, 219 Nehru, Swaroop Rani, 81, 82, 106 Nehru, Uma, 65, 81, 101, 106, 220 newspapers. See press. Ninety-day Law, 153 Nivedita, Sister, 90, 129, 236 non-cooperation movement, 54, 59, 64, 92, 174 non-violence, 20, 22, 125, 195 no-rent–no-revenue campaign, 120–21 oral narratives, 26, 30–37 ordinance, 54, 114, 119, 144, 148–49, 152 Paliwal, Sukhdevi, 111, 144 Pandey, Lalibai, 222 Pandey, Surendranath, 196 Pandit, Vijaylakshmi: 44, 65, 100, 107, 220; on joining national movement, 81–83; on prison experiences, 142, 155 Pankhurst, Emmeline, 156 Pant, Govind Ballabh, 120 Pant, Sumitra Nandan, 253 Paradkar, Vishnu, 221 partition of Bengal, 202 partition of India, 41, 96

301

patriotic songs: 178, 180 patriotism: 197, 242 peasant movement, 62 Penal Code, 161 Petit, Mithubehn, 59 picketing: 45, 47, 56, 112, 114, 247; arrests for, 148, 161; British response to, 113–14; Gandhi on, 44, 104, 109; poetry and, 151. See also foreign cloth; liquor poetry: 28–29, 56, 88, 151, 177, 194, 218, 232; in prison, 142, 163 police: atrocities by, 152. See also lathi political socialisation, 66 prabhat pheris, 23, 88, 118 Prabhawati, 58 Prantiya Mahila Parishad (in Jhansi), 117 Prasad, Bhuvneshwar, 77 Prasad, Bindeshwari, 220 Prayag Mahila Samiti, 65, 220 Prayag Mahila Vidyapith, 79, 233 Prayag Narayan Mandir, 127 prayers, 88, 106, 186, 219 Precautionary Detention Order, 153 Premchand, 177 press: 151, 161, 163, 170, 208; curbs on, 119, 149. See also clandestine; radio Press and Registration of Books Act (XXV), 119 Press Ordinance (1930), 149 Prevention of Intimidation Ordinance (1930), 114 prison: 24–25; as a site of female community and resistance, 161–66; as a site of humiliation and family separation, 159–61; segregation in, 157–58. See also jail prostitute, 98–99, 156, 220, 240 Public Safety Bill, 127 purdah: 93–94, 142, 184–85, 187–88, 200, 203, 206, 263; family dynamics and, 175–81; institution of, 23–24; jail experiences and, 151, 157, 162; protests against, 58, 234; Western women and, 240, 243; writings on, 249, 250 purna swaraj, 70

302

WOMEN

IN THE

INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT

Qidwai, Mushir Husain, 115 Quit India movement, 58, 92, 97, 123–24, 200, 208 radio, 180, 208 Rai, Dr Hulas, 161 Rai, Lala Lajpat, 119, 127, 207 Rajagopalachari, C., 57 Rajguru, 128 ram rajya, 122 Ran Bheri, 28 Rani of Jhansi Regiment, 115, 128 Rao, Babu, 221 Rashtramata, 194 Rashtriya Stree Sabha, 54 Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), 64 Rathore, Vijay Devi, 76, 143, 145 Rau, Krishna, 57 revolutionaries: 20, 24, 45, 126–28, 156, 184, 196–97; attitudes of women towards, 124–25, 196–97, 202, 206–7; wanted, 206; in hiding, 201; magazines, 28; in prison, 156, 159, 165–66; women, 56, 107, 128–31, 150, 195 Rohatgi, Jawaharlal, 110 Sa’adawi, Nawal el. See Nawal el Sa’adawi Sahgal, Ramrakh Singh, 220 Sahgal, Vidyavati, 185 salt law: violation of, 102–7 Sanatan Dharma Mahamandal, 220 Sanghari, Kumkum, 174 Santhals in Bengal, 122 Sanyal, Sachindranath, 126 Sapru, Tej Bahadur, 63 Sarabhai, Ambalal, 59 Sarabhai, Anasuyaben, 59 Sarabhai, Mridula, 59, 60, 104 Sarabhai, Sarladevi, 59 Saraswati, 27, 218, 220, 222 Saraswati Mahila Samaj, 55 Sarda Act, 58, 60 satyagraha: 44, 79, 54, 124, 248, 252, 253; forest, 55; salt, 55, 102–5; women in, 111, 142, 146, 150, 154 Satyagraha Samachar, 119

Saurabji, 117 Sawaldam, Lala, 112, 151 Saxena, Satya, 112 Scott, J.A., 127 Sehgal, Lakshmi, 80 Sehgal, Nandgopalsingh, 235 self-reliance. See Gandhi, Mohandas Karamchand Sen, Surya, 56 Seth, Kamala, 172, 174 Seth, Shakuntala, 222 sexual puritanism, 78, 101 sexuality: management of female, 98 Shah, Triveni, 204 Sharma, Pandit Babu Ram, 163 Sharma, Ramchandra, 222 shastras, 236 Sherwani, Ahmad Khan, 119 Sherwani, Nisar Ahmed, 114 Shraddhanad, Swami, 163 Shradhanjali, 222 shuddhi, 94 Shukla, Devidutt, 221 Shukla, Vidya Bhaskar, 127 Simon Commission, 69, 119, 207 Singh, Ajit, 190 Singh, Bhagat, 95, 174, 186, 188, 190, 198, 207; in Hindustan Socialist Republican Association, 126, 127–28 Singh, Kartar, 126 Singh, Kishan, 190 Singh, Madhuri, 74 Singh, M.P., 97 Singh, Roshan, 19 Singh, Sardar Arjun, 190 Singh, Swarn, 190, 191 Singh, Thakur Srinath, 221 Sinha, Bejoy Kumar, 126 Sinha, Markhandya, 187 Sinha, Raj Kumar, 187 Sinha, Sharad Kumari, 187 Sinha, Vijay Kumar, 196 sisterhood, 176 Sitaramayya, B. Pattabhi, 122 songs. See patriotic songs sovereignty, 146 Stree Darpan, 65, 218–19, 225–26, 230, 232, 242

Index Stree Mandal, 117 Stree Samaj (in Aligarh), 117 streedharma. See women students’ associations, 56 subaltern: historiography, 42–44; militancy of, 121–23 Subbamma, Duvvuri, 57 Sudha, 221 suhag bindi. See natural art Sukhdev. See Thapar, Sukhdev Suri, Rajarani, 194 Sushma, Gyanendra Kumari, 233 swadeshi: 45, 57, 70, 105, 117, 118, 122, 181–85, 202. See also foreign cloth swaraj: 66, 122, 126, 182, 253, 264 Swatantra, Govardhan Singh, 187 swayamsevikas, 117 symbolism: 22, 23, 24, 86, 94; of domestic items, 108–9; gendered, 47, 84; impact of, 47, 119, 262, 263; of motherhood, 244; nationalist, 46, 83–91, 113, 116, 185, 193, 197, 217; in poetry, 189; religious, 122, 143, 206; of revolutionaries, 128–29 tabligh, 94 taluqdar, 43, 61, 62, 120 taluqdari settlements, 61 tanzim, 94 Tenancy Act, 121 tenants, 61–62, 120–21, 140 terrorism, 24, 114, 125, 126, 128–29, 131. See also revolutionaries Tewari, Sridevi, 35, 73, 99, 109 Thapar, Sukhdev, 126, 198 The Leader, 28, 30, 116 toddy, 112, 117, 149. See also liquor Trades Dispute Bill, 127 Tripathi, Kala, 178 Tripathi, Kalka Prasad, 87 Tripathi, Narayani, 35 Tyabji, Abbas, 105 Unauthorised New Sheets and Newspapers Ordinance (1930), 149 universal adult suffrage, 69 Unlawful Association Ordinance (1930), 149

303

Unlawful Instigation Ordinance and Prevention of Intimidation Ordinance (1930), 149 untouchability, 58, 99, 160 UP Arya Pratinidhi Sabha, 94 US-based Indians, 126 Usman, Hafiz, 115 Vanar Sena, 60 Vanchu, Roop Kumari, 219 Verma, Mahadevi, 79, 89, 115, 177, 250, 252 Verma, Shiv, 90, 91, 126, 196 Videsh Kapda Bahiskar Samiti (Association for the Boycott of Foreign Cloth), 60 Vidushi, 221, 222 Vidyarthi, Ganesh Shankar, 95 village officials, 121 Viplav, 28 Vir Arjun, 177 Vir, Ayodhya Nath, 222 Vir Bharat, 150 Viswamitra, 177 Viswesaran, Kamala, 172 Vivekananda, 129 Vohra, Bhagwati Charan, 126, 127 Voice of Freedom, 208. See also radio Western values: Indian concerns, 235–41 Whatley, Monica, 147 widowhood, 57, 190, 220 Wilkinson, Ellen, 147, 161 womanhood: 46, 55, 84, 109, 142–43, 192, 221, 236; protection of, 165, 185 women: aspirations of, 24; awareness raising of, 60, 65, 118, 186, 210, 227, 228, 247, 263; British attempts to liberate Indian, 193; British hesitation to arrest Indian, 146; convictions of, 141; dharma and, 118; economic independence of, 79, 110, 176, 182, 237, 255, 257; education of, See education; elder, 74, 176, 197; elite, 30, 34, 37, 49, 65–66, 81, 101, 132, 217, 262; —, experience in jails, 142; entry of,

304

WOMEN

IN THE

INDIAN NATIONAL MOVEMENT

into politics, 58, 59; familial sacrifice, 185–91; identity of, 34, 84, 87, 95, 96, 197, 234, 241, 249, 254; inheritance, 117; low-caste, 98, 103; lower-class, 33, 148, 154, 184; married, 35, 59, 73, 74, 98, 161, 175, 190, 195, 203, 234, 243; —, and education, 224, 231, 235; —, Gandhi on, 78, 101; mobilisation of, 30, 40, 44, 46, 106, 108, 113, 121–22, 128, 218; —, organisations for, 62; middle-class, 22, 33, 44, 46, 47, 67, 70, 83, 98, 100, 105, 109, 132, 187, 223, 235, 252; —, studying, 30, 32, 50, 170; modern, 25, 74, 171, 181, 225, 229, 232, 234, 236, 237, 240, 244, 249, 250–52, 254, 256; —, as a symbol, 46; as mothers, see motherhood; as prisoners, see prison; religious duty of, 87, 219–20; rights of, 261; role model of, 244; segregation of, 93–94; social reform and, 41, 48, 59, 177;

students, 70, 86, 119; taluqdars, 43, 62; unmarried, 25, 73, 74, 175, 178, 190, 220; violence and, 124–28, 128–31; Western, 227–28, 237, 240, 241, 243, 245, 255; widowed, 170, 190; as wives, 88, 187, 206, 234; working-class, 96, 97, 98. See also colonialism; marriage; revolutionaries; women’s movement Women’s Central Jail, 154 Women’s Indian Association, 105, 227 women’s movement: compared to in the West, 44–45, 227. See also women Women’s Swadeshi League, 57 World War I, 61 World War II, 123, 128 Yashpal, Prakashvati, 28 youth leagues, 119–20 zamindar, 58, 61, 73, 107, 117, 120–21, 125

ABOUT

THE

AUTHOR

Suruchi Thapar-Björkert is Lecturer in the Department of Sociology at the University of Bristol, UK, and Visiting Research Fellow at Tema Ethnicitet, Linköping University, Sweden. She has previously held teaching and research positions at the Development Studies and Gender Institute, London School of Economics and Political Science. Her research interests lie in three specific areas: gendered discourses of colonialism and nationalism; gendered violence in India and the UK; and qualitative research methodologies. Suruchi has published widely in refereed journals including Feminist Review, Women’s Studies International Forum, Journal of Gender Studies, Women’s History Review, International Journal of Social Research Methodology and Oral History Journal. She has made several media presentations to Radio Feminist ATTAC, BBC Radio Bristol and BBC World.