Sacred Waters by Meira Chand

Author:Meira Chand
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789814794237
Publisher: Marshall Cavendish International

16

SINGAPORE, 1944

In those first days at the camp Sita slept soundly, and woke each morning to the powerful feminine scents of the warm hut, an odour reassuring in its familiarity, and for a moment there was a vague sense that she might still be in the bhajanashram, with the comforting presence of Billi beside her. Then the sharp note of the bugle broke upon her and in the bunk above, Muni stirred. The barracks were still in darkness but already birds in the trees outside welcomed the dawn, and Sita listened to their riotous affirmation of the new day.

Then there was the rush to the toilets, to the washroom, to the lockers, everything happening at once but in an organised manner, for they were all now used to the military precision of the day, who went first, who went next, the speedy pace of ablutions and dressing, the making of their beds. Within a short while they assembled on the parade ground for the raising of the tricoloured flag of Azad Hind, orange, white and green, the Free India for which they were all fighting now. As it made its graceful ascent up the flagpole, the tiger at its centre stirred briefly, and Sita silently acknowledged the devi.

Then the hour of physical exercises began; sit-ups, push-ups, squats and crunches, ten, twenty, fifty, eighty, followed by running, round and round the perimeter of the parade ground until several miles were covered. There was also an obstacle course of challenging rope constructions they must scramble up and down, and the vertical course with its swinging logs and ladders to be traversed. Then, exhausted and starving, they lined up with their metal cups and plates at the canteen for breakfast. At first the physical demands of military training seemed impossible to fulfil, but they were surprised at how quickly their bodies strengthened and their muscles hardened. Soon, they cohered as a group, drilling and marching smartly in unison, inhibitions and inadequacies dropping away as their abilities improved.

The routine of camp life left no moment unoccupied, and was organised to train not only their bodies but also their minds. Some hours each day were given to the learning of Hindustani. On Netaji’s order, they learned the language in Romanised script; it was thought a knowledge of this script would be useful in learning other languages later, and also promoted national unity in a country with so many ethnic divides and vernaculars. As a group, they communicated mostly, if imperfectly, in the common language of bazaar Malay that most of them already knew. There were also lessons in political history and geography; they learned why they were fighting the battle for India’s freedom, how they had been colonially enslaved, and the history of the Indian National Congress. They were also taught the theoretical side of military training, battle strategy and the ways of ambush in guerrilla warfare. An officer from one of the men’s camps came to instruct them, and for a while Sita hoped

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