There is a section in the British Museum in London which contains centuries-old manuscripts from India. Scripted on fragile, faded palmyra leaves, these priceless stories from great Indian epics like the Mahabharata and Ramayana and even the Puranas are carefully preserved and exhibited to showcase a great civilisation. Visitors from India may have mixed feelings when they arrive in this section. Some may think this is what they looted from our country. Others may feel happy that our treasures have been preserved so well, albeit in another land. I share the latter view when I think of the sorry manner in which we treat our heritage sites, buildings and monuments.
We, Indians, do not care for history which is the most fascinating tool to recall and relive past events – be they happy or sad, triumphant or beaten. It is our story, to be preserved and cherished. The latest incident that has betrayed gross insensitivity to historical treasures was the omission, rather the deletion, of a prayer that was part of our country’s struggle for freedom from colonial rule. Every year, for the past 75 years, this prayer was played to the slow beat of drums during the retreat of the troops after the Republic Day parade. It also celebrated India’s republic status. The “Beating of the Retreat” was a solemn and truly moving event, that concluded with that stirring prayer Abide with me.
Composed by American soloist Henry Francis Lyte, this poignant hymn described India’s struggle and triumph in a musical score that was universal in its appeal. It does not belong to any particular country, culture or religion.
“I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where, death is thy sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me…” sang the poet. India’s freedom celebration has become poorer with its omission.
Every time our rulers change the name of a street, a building, or a city, they are slicing off a bit of history. It is a puerile way of displaying patriotism. And the surest way of losing out on our meaningful past. A past that was full of struggle, suffering, sorrow — and survival. India, more than any other country in the world, has been assaulted and subjugated again and again by marauders who came to steal her wealth of gold, spices and other treasures. That history, as the German philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer reminded humanity, does not belong to us, we belong to it.
Take a city like Bengaluru, with its quaint street names — especially in the cantonment area — that make you wonder who these people were who made our city what it is. Roads were named Lavelle, Cubbon, or Ali Asghar, side by side with Visvesaraya, Krishna Rajendra or Netkalappa. A Mosque Road and Church Street had their counterparts in Bull Temple or Jain Temple Streets. Hindu, Muslim, Christian and Parsi co-existed peacefully — until the tar and brush took over. Future generations in this city will never know that a man called Lavelle discovered gold reefs 40 miles away from the city. The gold mines of KGF owe their origin to him. Yet, a single road named after him was, ironically, changed to that of a liquor baron noted for unethical business practices.
There is a street in south-west London named Bangalore St, because the recruitment centre of the Bangalore Regiment was located there 300 years ago. Even though it should make every Britisher hang his head in shame because he thought that the sun would not set on the empire he had built, the street remains there to remind him of his colonial downfall.
If you walk in Westchester in Chicago, you will find British history unravel before you. Sherwood, Cambridge and Canterbury rub shoulders with Robin Hood, Chaucer and Becket. A Shakespeare corner stands next to a Bernard Shaw avenue. A Dickens Street adjoins a Shelley suburb. Balmoral, Buckingham, Cromwell, Nelson – they are all there to narrate British history. Chicago is not the poorer for it, is it?
Why can’t we tolerate memories of our historical past? We change history in school textbooks, in our maps, even in our films. Masterpieces like City of Joy, Jodhaa Akbar or Viswaroopam have come under the Censor Board’s scanner and suffered because they were said to offend social, communal or caste sentiments. The banning of Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Padmavati was the last straw. It was allowed to be released only when its title was changed to Padmaavat and big scenes were deleted. It is the same story with the arts like music, dance or drama. History is dumped without a care into the dustbin to placate one group or the other.
The latest victim is Gandhi’s Sabarmati Ashram in Gujarat. This is the place where India’s fight for independence took shape. It contains Gandhi’s letters, speeches, reminiscences that tell you how he planned his strategies to overthrow British supremacy in this country. A place where celebrated personalities like Rabindranath Tagore met and conversed with him. The scene of his fasts and prayer meetings which were the essential components in the freedom struggle. Sabarmati Ashram is the place that was witness to India’s freedom struggle. In the guise of repair and renovation, will we lose yet another piece of history? The prayer Abide with me… was never so relevant as it is today.