Fiction: Azad takes up a fight for salt farmers, decades after his grandfather marched with Gandhi

The year the country became independent was also the year in which Azad’s father Ramsingh Patel was born. But even he used to say the British Raj was better. They respected the Agarias and valued them. What an odd idea, Azad told himself in childhood. Wars of independence were fought across the country, the Indian flag was hoisted at Red Fort, Nehru became the Prime Minister, and yet the British were to be considered the better option?

His grandfather Tribhuvan lived to be fifty-five. After Tribhuvan got his son Ramsingh married, he kept waiting eagerly for a grandchild to be born. In his head he had already installed himself in the grandfather’s seat. He had told his son that if it was a girl who came first, she should be named Sarojini. And if a boy, Azad. Tribhuvan never said anything good about the British, he had fought for azaadi, after all. At fifteen he had joined Gandhibaba on the Dandi salt satyagrah. Police batons had fractured his head and ribs. How will any of you know the joy and peace of living in an independent country? You have seen nothing but an independent country from the time you learnt to understand...

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