Sunday, September 12, 2021

Family Heritage & Traditions a QA session with Ishaan Krishnan (Singapore) Part 2 of 3

 

6.   During World War Two, how was the situation in the country and how did your family manage to survive the hardship?

I need to recall so much from my memories to the extent what transpired by a gentleman and a father-figure to me.  He is none of other than (Late) Shri V Sankara Iyer, who is incidentally your great grandfather in the maternal hierarchy.  I used to visit his place often during my childhood in Kumbakanam, where his youngest son, Swaminathan (you know him as Sama Uncle) was and is still my close classmate and long-time family friend and associate over 5 decades. We know each other since primary, secondary, higher secondary and university education, besides, we have had the opportunity to work together once during our initial career in the mid 1980s.

 

Shri Sankara Iyer used to share lot of his youthful memories from his experiences he used to interact with many people both in person and at professional level during his lifelong career. I used to get such nostalgic memories from my maternal uncle (Late) Shri Ramanathan Iyer, who used to be in Indian Armed Forces, where one of his military circle friends was (Late) Shri Krishnamurthy Iyer, who is incidentally the brother-in-law of (Late) Shri Sankara Iyer.  You may now relate to your connection to people who lived in those critical times of World War II.

In those nostalgic discussions, I have had the opportunity to listen to their nostalgic memories of World War II as well.

To give you a nutshell of such memories, to name a few.  The reminiscence of these brings me goosebumps even today. Such a historic significance this has had in the Indian Independence history. Reading this, you would realize where Singapore was having a significant role in this struggle directly or indirectly, due to INA – Indian National Army – and their significant presence in Singapore those days. Read on.

6.1 Significant memories from World War II

The Second World War was the most widespread conflict in history. It was a global feud lasting from 1939 to 1945. Nearly every country in the world participated and so did India. Indian soldiers participated on almost all fronts, but very few of them fought on Indian soil, except in Nagaland.

Field Marshal Sir Claude Auchinleck, Commander-in-Chief of the Indian Army from 1942 said, “The British couldn't have come through both wars I and II if they hadn't had the Indian Army.” It is estimated that more than 87,000 Indian soldiers are buried in foreign soil.

Ironically, Madras citizens Lakshmi Sehgal of the Rani Jhansi regiment fought for the Axis powers and Paramasivam Kumaramangalam (later head of the Indian Army) fought for the Allied forces.

Historically, Madras was a relatively peaceful state. The French took it in the 1740s, Hyder threatened it half a century later and the German cruiser, Emden, bombed it in 1913. So, it was not prepared for the effects of a long-drawn war although the theatre of conflict was far away.

Madras had just one day of direct tussle in the six years of the deadly war, and yet, it suffered from a hysteria never seen in her history. Madras had to bear its share of the almost insupportable weight of the entire world waging war and the threat loomed and the hue and cry over a distant war disrupted life for over a decade.

Those were years that the citizens must have borne with every evidence of distaste. But to rest in the shade of peace and view those dangerous days from the distance of 70 years is often bewildering and evokes much amusement as well.

On the evening of 3 September 1939, Subash Chandra Bose, while addressing a public meeting on the Marina beach, announced the invasion of Poland by Germany. To the citizens of Madras, it was a distant war. Like Panipat or Plassey.

Two distant alliances were fighting, and the war was slowly engulfing the globe but it was still too far-flung for the city. Little did they think it would affect their day-to-day life.

The Viceroy of India, Linlithgow, declared that India was at war with Germany on 3 September 1939. Rajaji, the premier of Madras, objected strongly. Saying, “It is wholly unsatisfactory and calculated to rouse resentment among all those who are anxious to gain India's independence," his ministry tendered its resignation. That was the first political fallout.

War disrupts manufacturing and supply lines and triggers hoarding. So scarcities are felt by the population. The frequent representations of the Madras Hotel Association to the government give a clear picture of the food situation during that period.

With Burma under attack and shipping lines targeted by Japanese torpedoes, rice — the staple food of the Madras presidency — became scarce. Idlies and dosas were being taken off the menus of most hotels. Idlies — the staple dish of the city — became scarce with strong rumours that the government would ban the food item.

Wheat was being imported as well as being moved in from the north. But the food tastes of people were not very easy to change. Free cooking demonstrations of wheat dishes were given at street corners.

Rava idly and wheat dosas were invented during this period. Every type of home need like firewood and kerosene was scarce. Even matchboxes were rationed.

The government categorised weddings as a major usage of food and restricted wedding invitation lists to 30 people. The organisers had to advertise to guests not to turn up for weddings.

I am not in a position to issue invitations to relations and friends for the function. Those who would like to convey their blessings to the bridal couple, may do so by post which will be gratefully accepted as offered in person,” says a press advertisement of the period.

The cinema industry was one that suffered most — mainly because the world’s largest film manufacturers were in Germany and Japan, and they were at war with Britain. In 1943, the government imposed a raw stock film control and ruled that no cinema film should exceed 11,000 feet (the average length of a Tamil talkie at the time was anywhere between 18,000 and 20,000 feet with 50 songs).

Directors struggled with the craft of telling a story crisply or without too many songs. The war period produced lesser talkies with fewer songs and the unwritten restriction that heroes had to be good singers also faded.

It laid the line for actors proficient at other aspects — like stunt scenes and oration — to become heroes. MGR and Sivaji Ganesan found their feet post-war.

Conservation was considered a major step towards combating scarcities. The railways actually advertised asking people not to travel.

“The last journey you made — was it necessary?” asked an advertisement of M&SM (Madras and Southern Mahratta Railway) railway. Airways too advertised asking customers to avoid needless travel.

The scarcities gave rise to peculiar situations. War was a glutton for metal. Wiring for radios and planes, casings for bullets and bombs to stop them from fouling — all of these were made of copper.

Unfortunately, more copper was in the coins circulating in the market than in the inoperable mines. So, people realised that the intrinsic value of the coin was higher than its notional value (six annas of copper was in a four anna coin).

This led to a large-scale hoarding of coins and a shrinking of trade. The government —unable to crack down on the coin hoarding — introduced the coin with a hole in the middle.

Maria Montessori, the education pioneer arrived in Madras mainly to escape the war in Europe. Ironically, she was arrested as an alien, being an Italian whose country had allied with Hitler.

Forcible war fund collection was another irritant. Money was collected in Madras to buy planes for the RAF (Royal Air Force). The aircraft were even called St George, Anantapur, Bellary, Guntur, Kurnool, Madura, Malabar, Ramnad, and Trichinopoly as a gesture of thanks.

A city not used to military presence having thousands of troops — mainly foreigners — with little knowledge of local customs, was a fertile ground for conflict. Rival sects treated one another with cold hostility.

Some hotels had placards saying “Out Of Bounds For Soldiers”. There were constant rumours that the city would be handed over for military rule. That terrified the population.

And then, in late 1942, the war became a serious reality for Madras, which till then was suffering only from scarcities. The Japanese Air Force and Navy were conducting daring attacks in the Indian Ocean and had captured Singapore and Andaman Islands from the British. The threat across the Bay of Bengal was imminent.

The first attack happened in Colombo. In April 1943, on the Easter Sunday, 75 Japanese planes dive-bombed on the harbour. Sir Andrew Caldecott, Governor of Ceylon, speaking in Tamil, asked people to not panic. The death toll was only 50, “much less than the daily casualties from the street accidents in London,” he tried to reassure.

The same month, a single Japanese plane fired at Cocanada (Kakinada), a port town 700 km north of Madras, damaging two ships. and on the same afternoon at 1.45 pm, a small group of planes attacked Visakhapatnam.

In spite of censorship, Madras was scared. Blackouts were issued in the night. Defence of India Act made the Marina Beach a prohibited area between lighting-up time and sunrise and anyone found there after sunset, which ironically included fishermen, were fined. Trenches were dug along the roads for people to hide after air raid warnings were given.

The lights on the Marina Beach were fully extinguished. Glass windows had to be removed. Trees were not supposed to be cut. To hide the city from a Japanese bomber seemed the primary motive.

In the midst of all this, the city resorted to a pestilential pastime of rumour-mongering. Every noise was suspect. Every bird in the sky was frightening.

However, Madras was not altogether unprepared for the eventuality of an aerial attack. Preparations went on in full swing. Some very drastic ones too. Madras had a century-old zoo. The municipal corporation started wondering, “What if a stray bomb opened up the zoological garden?”

Realising that wild animals let loose would be a major problem to the city, the governments issued a culling order to dispose of the animals. The zookeepers must have dispatched the animals with mixed feelings.

Herbivores were dispatched by special trains to Erode and carnivores by guns. Three lions, six lionesses, four tigers, eight leopards, four bears and a black panther were shot in the matter of an hour.

The British government thought an air attack and a seaborne invasion of Madras was imminent. But of what interest was Madras to the Japanese? It was just a sleepy town in the corner of the empire. Perhaps, the Japanese intelligence knew more about Madras and particularly its suburb Avadi than the locals under censorship.

Avadi is described in 1946 as the largest military base of its kind in India and possibly the British empire. Built at the cost of Rs 8 crore, it covered 20 square miles and was entirely self-supporting with water and electricity.

It had multiple airfields and a huge railway within. Three transit hospitals nursed the allied soldiers hurt in the war. The Avadi base employed 10,000 people in an ordnance depot and could repair guns, tanks, lorries and even amphibious aircraft (seaplanes landed in the nearby Red Hills water reservoir). There were even theatres and swimming pools for the staff.

Censorship didn’t last long in Madras. Thousands of refugees from Burma landed there. And with them came stories of Japanese cruelties in conquered areas. People were scared to the hilt. Obviously to their mind, Madras lay next in line, helpless like meat on a butcher’s table.

When the government issued an advisory on 13 April for people to move away from exposed positions, even Gandhi advised: “There is no cowardice in orderly withdrawal. Moving to villages will help the city defence to work better.”

Then commenced the biggest evacuation in the history of Madras. The rural areas seemed like paradise in comparison and five lakh people moved away from the city. Trains were full. The highways were demarcated for fast and slow traffic. Those exiting by bullock carts used the Kodambakkam-Sriperumbudur route for slower traffic and automobiles used Madras-Poonamallee-Kundrathur Road meant for fast traffic.

The government was under no delusion either. The collector, high court and the government moved away from their Beach Road premises. Banks moved inland or shut shop. Businesses lowered their shutters.

There ensued a shortage of locks, for people wanted to secure their homes before leaving Madras. There rose a gang of robbers who specialised only in stealing locks that were being sold at a premium in the black market.

But in two to three months, luckily for Madras, the tide turned in the war. The Japanese were being beaten clearly in the Pacific and were on the back foot. Madras was not a Japanese priority any longer when they needed to defend the territories they had captured.

Many of the evacuees started returning to Madras. By July-end, news about evacuees and their problems almost disappeared from the newspapers and it was clear that the city had almost come back to its normal self.

However, there was an anti-climax to this series of events. There was a torrential downpour in the month of October and the city was severely flooded. The two rivers Cooum and Adyar even linked up and the city was under a blanket of water.

And when the city was grappling with flood rehabilitation measures and cleaning up the mess, the Japanese struck, though in a feeble way.

On the night of 11 October 1943, a single Japanese reconnaissance plane dropped a few bombs resulting in, what the government claimed as, ‘light damages and casualties’.

Strangely, the ARP (Air Raid Precautions) unit did not sound any alarm or warning siren to alert people. The government took two weeks to explain this failure, finally saying it had not operated the alarms since the floods had damaged the electrical supply.

With no alarms and no newspapers, the people did not even know they had been bombed for a week. Less than 10 persons had been killed, other than some livestock. But soon, rumours spread that the Japanese had bombed the reservoirs, and hence the flood.

In 1945, when the Japanese surrendered, Governor Hope took a salute at the Monroe statue during the victory march past. Soldiers danced on the streets. The people were relieved and special pujas and abhisekas were done in the temples of Madras in the name of the king emperor.

The World War marks an epoch in the history of Madras. It was not written in blood as in other parts of the globe. But it left Madras’ residents deeply seared by fate's unkindness as a faraway war changed their lifestyles for five long years.

For those years, their disposition was far from cheerful, and though there were few casualties, their life was soured.

Thus, The World War marks an epoch in the history of Madras. It left Madras’ residents deeply seared by fate’s unkindness as a faraway war changed their lifestyles for five long years.

For those years their disposition was far from cheerful, and though there were few casualties, their life was soured.

 

6.2    Role of Indian National Army for India’s Independence

The long struggle towards freedom of India is enfolded with the forgotten and undying spirits of freedom fighters. Indian National Army or the Azad Hind Fauj is one such group which is buried in the pages of the struggle.

Azad Hind Fauj, the army organisation was founded by Mohan Singh and comprised Indian prisoners of war in Singapore.

Azad Hind Fauj was another name of Bose’ Indian National Army which was inspired by the concepts of Netaji who planned to take foreign help to get rid of the country of British reign.

The Fauj was revived with the determination and leadership of Netaji and entered in the freedom fight portray in 1943. On the birthday of the ultimate revolutionary of India, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose here is some facts about his Azad Hind Fauj.

World war II was at its peak and Britain just had lost Singapore to Japan. With the slogan “Asia for Asiatics” Japan wanted to capitalise their strength against British with Indian soldiers. About 45,000 Indian soldiers gathered and Japanese Army called to form Azad Hind Fauj in 1942.

A year after the army took a new avatar under Bose. Netaji escaped house arrest in Culcutta and reached Singapore, and took leadership of the Azad Hind Fauj. The army was then declared to be the Army of Netaji Subash Chandra Bose.

 

6.2.1 Fauj of Youth

By the time the Azad Hind Fauj was formally established, it had a strong strength of 85,000 troops. Bose believed in the power of the youth. He inspired the soldiers to give up on everything and be part of the fight of the nation. By the time the Azad Hind Fauj or Indian National Army was formally established, it was strong with 85,000 troops.

6.2.2 Use of Azad Hind Radio

The fauj selected radio station to encourage countrymen to fight for freedom. It formed Azad Hind Radio to broadcast news in the most common languages of the Indians.


6.2.3 Army which truly empowered Women

The army was a believer in women power. Rani of Jhansi Regiment was formed as all-women-soldiers under the Azad Hind Fauj. The women were given training like night marches, bayonet charging, tactical combat, weapon skills and made ready for the battle.

6.2.4 Contribution and impact

The exceptional courage, determination and sacrifice the Azad Hind Fauj showed, reached the people of India and the nation witnessed a surging wave of revolution. The impact of Azad Hind Fauj on Indian revolution is not military but it seeded the spirit of courage and determination in Indians.


References to most of all information above, please check below links. 

https://www.visitsingapore.com/see-do-singapore/history/memorials/indian-national-army-monument/

https://www.oneindia.com/india/explained-the-role-of-the-azad-hind-fauj-in-indias-freedom-3019642.html?story=1

https://swarajyamag.com/world/when-madras-was-bombed-by-the-japanese-during-the-second-world-war

(To be concluded) 

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