Somnath Hore module glimpse

Who was Somnath Hore? Somnath Hore—one of the foremost painters and sculptors the country has ever seen was born on 13 April, 1921 in the Barama village of Chittagong district. Through his childhood years, he was drawn to art like nothing else, developing his early instincts of drawing, painting, making models. During his years as a student attending college, he came in contact with the Communist Party through his friends. ‘The Party was illegal, which explains the attraction. I created a number of handwritten posters during this period.’ (Hore 2015a) With college closed, and no money in his hands, he was forced to leave Calcutta and head back to the village where some of his friends were active Communist party workers, which is where he also joins them. They supplied him with brushes and ink and he made posters towards mobilising people for these movements. ‘It was during this period that I met the Communist painter Chittaprasad. He took me with him to the hospitals and through the roads and demonstrated with ink on paper how to draw the ill and the starving. I started drawing in my unskilled manner. I was pro- vided paper and colours by the Party. Using these to draw posters of the famine-affected and exhibiting these in the villages involved me in a new movement. The district committee of the Communist Party gave me a lot of encourage- ment. A few of the pictures were even pub- lished in People’s War. The IPTA songs and the poster movement created a different sort of am- bience. We opened a public kitchen. With the support of the government and the enthusiasm generated by our people’s movement, it became a huge success and managed to help a large number of people. In the middle of all this I joined the Party office at Chittagong as a full- time worker.’(ibid) 5

The state party then instructed him to proceed to Calcutta and work for the party, where the support of the party secre- tary P.C. Joshi resulted in Somnath Hore's admission into the Government College of Art. During his time at Art College, he was sent by the party to document the peasants' Tebhaga movement and the Darjeeling Tea Gardens' workers' move- ment which resulted in his two priceless works The Tea Garden Journal and Tebhaga. However, he gradually realised that de- spite having got the opportunity to draw because of the Party, he would not be able to reach his levels of fullest creativity until freed from material politics. Thus, he gave up his mem- bership of the Communist Party. He then converted many of his sketches from the Tebhaga Diary of 1964 into woodcuts, and immersed himself into thinking about the aesthetics of art. He went on to do his woodcuts, metal work—bronze figurines, develop his own methods of lithographs and much more during this period. 6

The paper pulp print that he created culminated in the series of his works titled Wounds emerging out of years of working on themes of famine and starvation. His experience from years of communal violence, World War II, the partition of India, and the violent and political conflicts of the 1970s, both at home and in Vietnam went into influencing his work heavily. A new technique was developed when he worked with wax to create sculpture, which then his student Chandravinod wanted to cast in bronze and Somnath Hore became entirely involved in this new medium. ‘The old concept was ‘wounds’. The fresh thoughts on wounds included pieces of wax, a knife heated in the fire, the flame of a blow lamp and so on.’ (Hore 2015a) His deep anguish over the Vietnam war led him to create his most well known bronze sculpture called Mother and Child over the span of two and a half years, that was later stolen from Kala Bhavan and is yet to be found. ‘I created a mother figure in bronze, holding an infant, surrounded by lo- tuses, to her torn breast. The child is looking upwards at her and, the mother, her head held high, is holding him with an air of confident assurance.’ (ibid)

Some concepts from the textbooks on colonial rule over the countryside From CBSE Textbook OUR PASTS - III PART 1 Textbook in History for Class VIII Ch: Ruling the Countryside ‘The need to improve agriculture If the economy was in ruins, could the Company be certain of its revenue income? Most Company officials began to feel that investment in land had to be encouraged and agricul- ture had to be improved. How was this to be done? After two decades of debate on the question, the Company finally introduced the Permanent Settlement in 1793. By the terms of the settlement, the rajas and taluqdars were recognised as zamindars. They were asked to collect rent from the peasants and pay revenue to the Company. The amount to be paid was fixed permanently, that is, it was not to be increased ever in future. It was felt that this would ensure a regular flow of revenue into the Company’s coffers and at the same time encourage the zamindars to invest in improving the land. Since the revenue demand of the state would not be increased, the zamindar would benefit from increased production from the land.’ (NCERT 2018b) ‘The Problem The Permanent Settlement, however, created problems. Company officials soon discovered that the zamindars were in fact not investing in the improvement of land. The revenue that had been fixed was so high that the zamindars found it difficult to pay. Anyone who failed to pay the revenue lost his zamindari. Numerous zamindaris were sold off at auctions or- ganised by the Company. By the first decade of the nineteenth century the situation changed. The prices in the market rose and cultivation slowly expanded. This meant an increase in the income of the zamindars but no gain for the Company since it could not in- crease a revenue demand that had been fixed permanently. Even then the zamindars did not have an interest in improving the land. Some had lost their lands in the earlier years of the settlement; others now saw the possibility of earning without the trouble and risk of investment. As long as the zamindars could give out the land to tenants and get rent, they were not interested in improving the land. On the other hand, in the villages, the cultivator found the system extremely oppres- sive. The rent he paid to the zamindar was high and his right on the land was insecure. To pay the rent he had to often take a loan from the moneylender, and when he failed to pay the rent he was evicted from the land he had cultivated for generations.’ (ibid) 8

Brief background to understand both these movements THE DARJEELING TEA GARDENS’ WORKERS’ MOVEMENT Famous for their Darjeeling tea, the tea gardens of Bengal were the birthplace of a workers’ union movement in the 1930s, while India was under British colonial rule. Protesting op- pression by owners and managers, the workers formed unions, organized by the Commu- nist Party of India, which pitted them against the owners and managers, their enforcers, and the constabulary. A critical point to situate this movement is that this was a movement of the workers during the later years of British colonisation. These workers were met with the harshest of repression by the Company—first the English East India Company (EIC) and later by the private companies to whom the EIC sold their shares. Their backbreaking labour brought them only the lowest of low wages for their work. This further worsened when hit by the global depression of 1930-31. This, as in most other cases of oppression was systemic and not limited to the economic sphere. These workers had little rights over how they would live and what would become of them, particularly true in the case of women. Survival was at the mercy of the Company who were there only to siphon off even the bare minimum from these workers. This movement mobilised workers to shift away from the half and half produce settlement between them- selves and the Company and demand that they would retain two thirds of the produce for themselves and hand over the other one third to the company officials. Despite stiff resistance, obstruction and forceful oppression on the part of the Com- pany officials, the Darjeeling Tea Garden workers’ movement was successful in achieving its aims against all odds. TEBHAGA MOVEMENT The Tebhaga movement was an early example of a fully formed peasant agitation led by the undivided Communist Party of India between 1946 and 1947 against feudal exploita- tion with its major centres of struggle located in the 24 Parganas, where paddy cultivation was the mainstay. A significant point in locating this movement historically is that this was a movement of the peasants during the last year of British colonisation and the first stages of independence of the newly formed Indian nation state and Partition. The main demand of the sharecroppers through this movement was to give one third of their produce to their landlords, instead of the earlier demand of them having to part with half their produce. Under the given circumstances of corruption, deceitful jotedars, erratic weather and the memory of the 1943 famine, parting with half their produce was an immense burden on the sharecroppers who had little to almost nothing to survive on at the end of it—their survival was now forced to depend on the mercy of the wealthy jotedars and landlords, who often turned their backs at them after siphoning off enough profits for themselves. 11

‘It drew into its orbit parts of at least fifteen of the twenty eight districts of Bengal and at least five million kisans of the poorer and more exploited strata who fought heroically against the jotedars, their goondas and the police, and defied all hostile propaganda, both official and non-official, in spite of the all round communal hatred and rioting.[. . .]Tremen- dous police repression was let loose on the struggling kisans everywhere and particularly in the northern districts of Dinajpur, Rangpur and Jalpaiguri, the coastal areas of 24-Par- ganas and Khulna, and eastern district of Mymensingh, the tribal areas of the Garo Hills on the Assam border. Jotedars and their goondas beat kisans and even killed them.’ Excerpts from The Tea-Garden Journal CONTEXTUALISING THE MOVEMENT ‘I have arrived at the kingdom of darkness in the dark of the night. From my childhood I had learnt that this was the land of coolies; there was no light to be found here. Some 60 years ago, when the English merchants arrived to start their tea gardens, the one thing they relied upon was that no light had ever penetrated this area; nor would they allow any light to be lit. Bihari, Madrasi, Oriya, Santhal, Oraon—people from all over the country, starving at home, had made this journey to a strange land, driven by the greed for something more. When they arrived, what they received was: a blanket, a steel thaali, a tumbler to drink from and a scrap of land for lying down on. In addition, they got to be part of a depraved social system entirely cut off from the world at large, and—wine shops. Moreover, from the very start of their lives as coolies, they learnt that the Manager was the beginning and the end of all things; there was nothing greater than him in the entire universe. Old Pardesi said, “The managers have stored a great deal of sorrow in those hills you see there. Occasionally cracks appear here and there and the smoke pours out!” I remember that following a brief downpour during my last day here, the hills were covered by what looked like hazy clouds. But Nagen Dey informed me that it was not clouds I was seeing, but smoke. Perhaps this is what Pardesi had taken to be the smoke from accumulated anguish. Who knows? A strapping coolie from one of the estates apparently told the Manager, “I’m running a high fever today, Sir. I won’t be able to do any hoeing.” The answer he received was—a savage beating and death! Only the old can tell us how many whimpers of pain remain hidden in every footstep. They can also tell us why no pretty girl should be born in the worker’s slums: because they have no right to their beautiful girls. As soon as one grows up, she has to be delivered to the clutches of the Manager, to be the prey to his lust. These people weren’t even able to contemplate marriage with any sense of assurance. 12

A large number of white owners sold their estates at the end of World War I. Among the people who took their place were such people as B. K. Roy Choudhury (who bought Bharat Tea Co. Ltd), Ma- halaxmi Bank (they bought Rangapani Tea Estate), Chandmal Bhatia (Bullion & Co. Ltd) and other In- dian owners. The change of ownership, however, left the system of the tea gardens unchanged, except that now there were 20 tea estates, large and small, as opposed to the previous eight. And over this ex- tensive area roam dark-skinned men and women from all over India; they raise the embankments during the monsoons and use shovels to dig during the winters. The men receive wages of eight annas a day; the women, six. They live in extreme penury with their children and occasionally, drink moon- shine to get merry and forget their miseries. Then came the global financial disaster of 1930– 31. The daily wages came down to four annas for men, three annas for women and two annas for chil- dren. The less they became capable of working, the worse grew the repression. Pushed beyond all en- durance by the unending oppression, the previously mute exploded in fury. “Who are you to beat us?” they asked, demanding explanations. Then back to the moonshine-induced stupors and the factionalism resulting from helplessness.’(Hore 2015b)

THE DISENCHANTMENTS OF THE TEA-GARDEN WORKERS WITH THE CONGRESS: ‘Congress activist arrived at Halda Valley Tea Estate in 1936. This was one Sushanta Choudhury and he had come to organize a membership drive for the Congress Party. The Manager of the estate was Bhuvan Guha; and, through his good graces, not only did dear Mr Choudhury manage to recruit members for the Congress Party, he also managed to ef- fectively sort out his own timber business. Having thus killed two birds with one stone, Mr Choudhury departed, never to be seen or heard from again, at least on behalf of the Congress Party.’ (ibid) STRATEGIES THEY DEPLOYED TO STEER THE WORKERS’ MOVEMENT FORWARD: ‘Movements started wherever there were unions and wages went up somewhat as a result; but by much less than what was necessary. Some gardens, out of fear of the union-led movements, increased wages to start with. As for those who refused (for instance, Chand- mal Bhatia), they were pressured by the government acting on behalf of the unions and forced to increase wages. The work of building the union spread to new areas during the start of 1944. As an- nouncements and bulletins spread from tea garden to tea garden, workers heard the news with keen interest—how the workers of such and such a garden were standing up with heads held high and saying in an united voice, “You will have to treat us like human beings.” They in turn would whisper to one another and form groups, and, in the dark of the night, meet the union organizer to ask, “What is to be done?” This is precisely how the union movement started at Rangapani Tea Garden. A little thatched cottage on top of a small hill—the workers call it the Ashram. A num- ber of workers have congregated here in the dark of the night in order to form a union. They grow food on small personal plots by dint of back-breaking labour during their spare time and the company forcibly takes away two-thirds of the crop. However, one of the things they learnt from the financial crisis of last year was that it was critical not to let their produce out of their hands. They have therefore decided to store their crop in their own granary and give the company one-third instead of two-thirds. They have other demands as well: “increase wages”, “stop the Manager’s excesses” and so on. However, unity and solidarity are required for such enterprises to succeed. This is why they have gathered. In front of them is the traditional pot covered with flowers, filled with water and containing copper coins and tulsi leaves. They look at each other awkwardly, too frightened to take such a potent oath, fearful of the consequences. Rashmohan is another matter altogether: holding the pot firmly in his hands, he is the first to take the oath: “I will build the union, I will obey the union and I will share the fate of 14

my brothers in the union.” His dark, massive physique, huge moustache and personality give the rest of the assembly reassurance. Slowly, each of them takes the oath. “The Union is Our Family.” Rashmohans’s eyes light up even today when he speaks about taking that oath. “The company brought in troops in order to frighten us. But we told the Manager, we aren’t frightened of your soldiers. In what way are we less than them? You’ve got six soldiers, we have two hundred. We are united.” ’ (ibid) 15

WHO WERE THEIR LEADERS? ‘From the Andamans, across the ocean, came Nagen Dey—a party worker of a rather different kind—who had taken part in the famous Bethua robbery. Having read and contemplated a lot during his stint in jail, he came to the conclusion that the real struggle for inde- pendence consisted of working for the peasants and workers. He started the first workers’ union, with a member- ship of around 70/80 at Neptune Tea Garden, after hold- ing secret meetings, night after night, under the huge garjan trees. From here, this clandestine movement to build trade unions spread to Fatikchhari Tea Garden. It had to re- main clandestine in order to avoid being noticed by the Manager. The other day, pointing to a mango tree in Darmara Tea Garden, Nagen Dey described to me how he had managed to save himself from an attack by three thugs. The people of the surrounding villages would never have learnt where Nagen Dey disappeared to had the lathi blows landed that day.’ (ibid) ‘Kulachandra A party member, he founded the trade union movement among the Bhumiya community. As a result, he found himself in the manage- ment’s black books and was forced to give up his job. He now works as a guard in the Forest Department and on the basis of de- mands for wages, kerosene, ration, etc., tries to organize the Bhumiyas of the Reserve Forest. In response to a sharp rebuke from the forester, he apparently told the man, “I’m a communist, y’know. We’re poor and used to surviving through our labour. So what do I care if I lose my job here. I’ll get a job some- where else. We don’t worry about our jobs.”‘ (ibid)

‘Sukchand He is a real worker’s leader. Husband and wife both work in the garden as does their 12-year-old daughter. Sukchand has worked in the gardens for 27 years, his wife for 17. Their posses- sions, after these 44 years of combined labour are: A tumble-down single-room hut, one third occupied by a cow and the rest by them, four children—two boys and two girls, four metal drinking glasses, two glass tumblers, three thaalis, two kadhais, one chopper, one torn dhoti and another in good condition, three saris between mother and daughters. Torn shirts on the two boys, one of whom is in a pair of shorts, the other in a breech clout. Ten chickens, two cows, a number of gunny sacks, a broken hurricane lantern and bow and arrows. Their circumstances may be thought of as quite comfortable. Not the least be- cause, in his wife’s words, they own silver ornaments worth 30 rupees, even though Sukchand insists that they can’t be worth more than 20. During the first phase of the union movement (the struggle over rice), Sukc- hand led the movement to store the har- vested rice with themselves rather than in the company’s granaries. Moreover, he provided leadership during the 1944 movement to demand increased wages. The movement was successful. A very steady individual, he was a delegate at this year’s All India Trade Union Congress. He is a party member as well as a member of the district committee.’ (ibid)

‘Suryamani Sukchand’s wife, party member, among the most conscientious and enthusiastic of the women party-workers. Something of a daredevil, she leads the broomstick brigade. When asked what they’d do if the police arrived, her answer was, “We’re not weaker than the police in any way. We’ll give ’em a whipping with our brooms!” She’s taught their slogans to her youngest, a girl of 18 months, so well that the child can complete each one with the greatest ease. “If we ever forget,” says Suryamani, “our children will remind us.” At 11 a.m. on 30 April 1947, the Superintendent of Police, complete with two armed policemen, turned up at the garden. He proceeded straight to the bungalow and ordered Rashmohan to see him there immediately. Rashmohan flatly refused to pre- sent himself at the bungalow. A group of workers, armed with bows and arrows, were holding a meeting near the bungalow. One of them went to the police officer and asked him to address his complaints to the meeting. The Superintendent lost control of himself. “Who d’you think you are; d’you think you can frighten me with your bows and arrows? I’ ll shoot the lot of you right now; I’d like to see the bloody commies try and stop me!” The moment they heard this, the women gathered in a group and lay in front of the officer’s vehicle and kept chanting, “You can’t leave without shooting.” The Superintendent was allowed to leave after he apologized. Suryamani was the leader of this band of women.’ (ibid)

ACTIVITY 1: Divide the class into seven groups. Having discussed these two movements in some detail, students should now draw a comparative analysis between them along the fol- lowing sub categories, pointing out the similarities and differences in each of these cases. 1. The background and context 2. The socio political realities of the time 3. The grievances in particular that brought about this agitation and the op- posing forces that they were addressing in both cases 4. The kind of leadership in the movements 5. The response of the peasants and the workers in mobilising themselves and building the movements 6. The role of women in each of the two movements 7. The impact that it had Once this comparison is drawn, each group should present and discuss their findings before the class. ACTIVITY 2: The Darjeeeling Tea Gardens’ Workers’ movement succeeded in achieving its demands while the Tebhaga movement failed to do so. In this context, explore the fol- lowing questions with students: • Why were they met with opposing fate? • From the narrative presented above, could you point out some critical junc- tures that broke the Tebhaga movement? • Was it entirely to do with internal tensions and violence, or did it have any linkages with the larger historical reality of that moment in the founding of the Indian nation state along with Partition? Follow this up with a creative writing exercise in which students imagine themselves to be one of the peasant leaders and: draw out a list of what they would have done differently in addressing prevalent issues and tension to push the Tebhaga movement towards success Or prepare a small speech addressing the peasants who see them as their leader, ex- plaining that the best that could be done under the prevailing circimstances, was done. 30

ACTIVITY 3: Throughout both Tebhaga and The Tea Garden Journal, the author records how the people were mobilised for the movements in vivid detail. This includes the slogans they used, the songs they sang, the stories they shared, and even their lan- guage. Given the nuances of the background; geographical settings; the people they were addressing; their demands, grievances and hardships, students should be asked to draw posters to mobilise the workers and peasants for either of the two movements. In doing this, they could refer back to the excerpts, particularly the images of the var- ious night meetings, harvests, protest marches from the above resource. ACTIVITY 4: ‘At night, a peasant comrade sang for us. I could see for myself tonight how a new culture was taking root in the ordinary man’s life through the activities of the Communist Party. [. . .] I realized for the first time that those songs which had brought a momentary thrill to our lives had now become part of the culture of ev- eryday life.’ -Tebhaga Here is an example of what formed the repertoire of that native protest culture in the Tebhaga movement. ‘The demands of the Tebhaga peasant movement were brilliantly articulated in another famous song, “Hey Samalo”, written and composed by Salil Chowdhury, the poet Sukanta Bhattacharya, and others, many of whom were members of the Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA). Mora tulbona dhan parer golay Morbo na ar khudhar jalay morbona Tar jomi je langol chalay Dher soyechhi ar to mora soibo na [ . . . ] . . . went the song.’ (Damodaran 2019) We will not take paddy to others’ granaries We will not die of starvation any more Who tills the land, owns the land/ The land belongs to its tiller We have tolerated enough, we’ll tolerate no more 31