Who Was Bharati ‘Asha’ Sahay? The Teenager Who Joined Rani of Jhansi Regiment

In June 1943, seventeen-year-old Bharati ‘Asha’ Sahay, a headstrong Indian teenager living in Japan during the Second World War, decides to join the Rani of Jhansi Regiment of the Indian National Army after meeting Subhas Chandra Bose. An excerpt from The War Diary of Asha-san: From Tokyo to Netaji’s Indian National Army by Lt Bharati ‘Asha’ Sahay Choudhry, translated by Tanvi Srivastava

Thursday, 15 February 1945

Papa is with us. He will go to Tokyo city today and will return late. My freshly sewn Rani of Jhansi Regiment uniform has arrived. Baby and Ashok have been called back from their school in Niigata-ken. All of us take a photograph together.

A few days later

There is a farewell ceremony for me at 4 p.m. in my college. I have to sit with the principal on the stage today, not with my friends. I don’t like this special treatment.

I say to Hitomi-sensei, ‘I am going to fight for my country—what need is there for a ceremony?’

Mid-sentence, the sensei cuts me short and pats my shoulder, ‘Fine, fine, just come with me …’

I suppose, in any case, I will have to bid farewell to my friends, companions and teachers today.

Hitomi-sensei gives a speech praising Indian culture and the miracle of Azad Hind governance. He speaks of Papa’s selfless efforts in creating a bridge of friendship and understanding between Japan and India, and then, at the end, praises me as well. I turn red with embarrassment. Am I worthy of praise? After all, the girls facing me are dealing with adversities of their own. It is my good fortune that I have received the opportunity to join the Indian National Army.

He asks me to rise and say a few words. I feel weak, as though I may collapse at any moment. What will the senior girls say, looking at me?

I whisper, ‘I won’t be able to speak.’

But the sensei doesn’t agree. And I have to stand. I say, ‘Thinking about the fact that I have to leave you and go far saddens me. But for you and me alike, serving our nation is our religion; we must fulfil our duty towards our country. When you pray, please pray for India’s independence, too. This is my only request. Sayonara.’

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In the large hall, amid a sea of bent heads, white blouses and blue slacks, a ripple of white handkerchiefs flutter. I can hear soft sniffling. I sit absolutely still, as though made of stone. At the instructions of the sensei, we stand for the Japanese national anthem ‘Kimigayo’, and after that I sing the national anthem of the Azad Hind, ‘Shubh sukh chain ki barkha barse’.

We disperse, and I walk ahead of my group. The senior girls, who usually distance themselves from us junior girls, come to say sayonara.

They say, ‘Asha-san, don’t lose. When you reach Delhi, call us, too.’

They gift me a haramaki as a memento, a piece of cloth that is tied around the waist. Japanese women usually give this talisman to soldiers before they leave for the battlefield. The cloth is one-metre long and laced with a hundred red stitches sewn by one hundred different women.

From college, we go to the hostel and our photographs are taken. First, with my best friend, Suzuki-san, and then with the rest of my group. This is followed by a photograph with our seniors, teachers and the hostel superintendent.

I return home at seven in the evening. Ma and Tulu are busy with housework. Ma doesn’t give me any work to do any more.

‘Arre baba, if you cut your hand here, how will you work there?’ she says.

Papa overhears us and says, ‘What, is she going to her in-laws that you’re not letting your daughter work?’

Ma retorts quickly, ‘You be quiet!’ She then smiles and speaks before going to the living room. ‘Netaji’s soldier will hold a gun in her hand, not a flower.’

End-February 1945

Bombs are falling over Tokyo continuously now. Ma still does not let me do any work around the house. Whenever I try to do anything, she instructs me to stop. She speaks to me lovingly, but after living in such a disciplined manner for so many years, this care and concern seems strange.

Ma says to me, ‘Look, Asha, I have already handed over your father and uncle to Mother India. Now you, too, are no longer my daughter, but India’s daughter. You must forget all of us and follow Netaji’s orders. Yes, and remember, being my Asha, never do anything that will make people laugh at your Papa and Ma.’

She continues, ‘In India, when a daughter’s marriage is arranged, her mother keeps her away from all activities involving fire, where she could get hurt. I’m not worried about whether you will go to your in-laws or not; however, your body now belongs to Mother India and hence, I will protect you from now itself.

‘One more thing, you are leaving your home. You are intelligent. However, you are still a teenager, a bookworm. How will you tell men apart? It is very difficult to recognize men. Just remember one thing—never be alone, always be with two–three people, and, if you face any adversity, then remember me. I will pray for your well-being.’

I don’t know why she’s so worried. I am going to fight. I will have a gun in my hand. Aside from the British, everyone else will be my friends. Anyway, I will remember Ma’s words.

End-February to March 1945

My eyes open at 5 a.m. Tulu is working mechanically. I go to lend a hand.

‘Just go from here …’ she says, turning her face away.

Ma is chirping like a little girl, singing Rabindranath Tagore’s song ‘Baje vidai shuru’. Let the songs of farewell commence. I am cruel; I am leaving these people today. Baby and Ashok are singing because their eldest sister is going to fight for freedom. But I cannot bear to see Tulu in this state. Our relationship, the relationship of two sisters, has always been such that this farewell is bound to be especially painful. Nonetheless, I have to forget myself. The sadness of others cannot concern me. My sole aim is to serve the nation.

Excerpted with permission from The War Diary of Asha-san: From Tokyo to Netaji’s Indian National Army by Lt Bharati ‘Asha’ Sahay Choudhry, translated by Tanvi Srivastava by HarperCollins Publishers India.

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