Excerpts : Bharat Mata
January 08, 2020
Often, as I wandered from meeting to meeting, I spoke to my audience of this India of ours, of Hindustan and of Bharata, the old Sanskrit name derived from the mythical founder of the race. I seldom did so in the cities, for there the audiences were more sophisticated and wanted stronger fare. But to the peasant, with his limited outlook, I spoke of this great country for whose freedom we were struggling, of how each part differed from the other and yet was India, of common problems of the peasants from north to south and east to west, of the Swaraj that could only be for all and every part and not for some. I told them of my journeying from the Khyber Pass in the far north-west to Kanya Kumari or Cape Comorin in the distant south, and how everywhere the peasants put me identical questions, for their troubles were the same—poverty, debt, vested interests, landlords, moneylenders, heavy rents and taxes, police harassment, and all these wrapped up in the structure that the foreign government had imposed upon us—and relief must also come for all. I tried to make them think of India as a whole, and even to some little extent of this wide world of which we were a part.
I brought in the struggle in China, in Spain, in
Abyssinia, in Central Europe, in Egypt and the countries of Western Asia. I
told them of the wonderful changes in the Soviet Union and of the great
progress made in America. The task was not easy; yet it was not so difficult as
I had imagined, for our ancient epics and myths and legends, which they knew so
well, had made them familiar with the conception of their country, and some
there were always who had travelled far and wide to the great places of pilgrimage
situated at the four corners of India. Or there were old soldiers who had
served in foreign parts in World War I or other expeditions. Even my references
to foreign countries were brought home to them by the consequences of the great
depression of the 'thirties.
Sometimes as I reached a gathering, a great roar of
welcome would greet me: ‘Bharat Mata ki Jai’—'Victory to Mother India.'
I would ask them unexpectedly what they meant by that cry, who was this Bharat
Mata, Mother India, whose victory they wanted? My question would amuse them
and surprise them, and then, not knowing exactly what to answer, they would
look at each other and at me. I persisted in my questioning. At last a vigorous
Jat, wedded to the soil from
immemorial generations, would say that it was the dharli, the good earth
of India, that they meant. What earth? Their particular village patch, or all
the patches in the district or province, or in the whole of India? And so
question and answer went on, till they would ask me impatiently to tell them
all about it. I would endeavour to do so and explain that India was all this
that they had thought, but it was much more. The mountains and the rivers of
India, and the forests and the broad fields, which gave us food, were all dear
to us, but what counted ultimately were the people of India, people like them
and me, who were spread out all over this vast land. Bharat Mata, Mother
India, was essentially these millions of people, and victory to her meant
victory to these people. You are parts of this Bharat Mata, I told them,
you are in a manner yourselves Bharat Mata, and as this idea slowly soaked
into their brains, their eyes would light up as if they had made a great
discovery.
This
excerpt is from the book The Discoveryof India by Jawaharlal Nehru.
Excerpts
is a series
where we post thoughtful passages from different books which provide for a
quick and easy reading.
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