When we think of the freedom struggle, the Revolt of 1857, Dandi March, Mahatma Gandhi and Bhagat Singh, who fought to break the chains of colonial rule, mainly come to mind. Yet, there are faces and stories that Indians barely know of. Janaki Thevar, Subhadra Khosla, Momota Mehta and Bibi Amar Kaur, among others, played their part—sometimes by a single gesture, at other times by picking up the baton from a fallen comrade, and by marching in a regiment.
On the walls of India International Centre’s Main Art Gallery, photographs of the ongoing ‘Hamaara Itihaas Archives of Freedom Fighters’ (HIAFF) exhibition brings many of them out of obscurity. The show of these grainy, black-and-white photographs of women in crisp military uniforms, or in humble saris with a rifle in hand, arrives on time as India celebrates its 79th Independence Day. But unlike grand military parades or patriotic replays of textbook heroes, it becomes a space for those who never made it to the headlines.
Considered India’s first and “perhaps only” international archive focusing on women freedom fighters from Southeast Asia, the exhibition showcases over 100 photographs, video interviews, 16mm film, letters, documents, and newspaper clippings. Much of the material comes from writer-filmmaker Sagari Chhabra’s own recordings and photographs from personal meetings with these women since 1995 with her HIAFF team, while other pieces have been sourced from families, private collections, and national archives.
Women in uniform
A section of the exhibition honours Indian-origin women of the Indian National Army’s (INA) Rani of Jhansi Regiment. Formed in 1943 by Subhas Chandra Bose, the regiment drew inspiration from Rani Lakshmibai, defeated in the 1857 Battle of Jhansi by Major General Hugh Rose, who famously described her as “a man among mutineers”.
Under the leadership of Captain Lakshmi Sahgal, the regiment drew women from across Southeast Asia — Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand and Burma (now Myanmar). They were not Indian by birth but by origin; many had never lived in India, yet made its freedom their cause.
“The Ranis in Southeast Asia were not highlighted enough. They never had a reunion. The Ranis in south-east never received any pension as freedom fighters of India. However the Ranis in India did,” says Chhabra, who in 2004 travelled across Myanmar, Singapore, Thailand, and Malaysia in search of them. She recorded their stories and testimonies, driven by a self-imposed responsibility to document their voices before their passing, “so no one could doubt that they had truly been part of this history”.
Remarkably, many Ranis of the Regiment volunteered after being moved by Netaji’s fiery speech in which he declared: “Give me blood, and I’ll give you freedom.” Clad in khaki uniforms, the women marched with pride, took up arms against British rule and were trained in basic military skills — rifle shooting, map reading and guerrilla warfare.
On display are photographs taken by Chhabra during her meetings with the Ranis, alongside letters from Sahgal to her troops that capture both the daily grind of military life and the constant shadow of danger. One image from Rangoon shows Sahgal inspecting a march-past, her posture exuding discipline and resolve.
Chhabra’s face gleams with pride as she recalls these encounters, many of which are woven into her long-in-the-making documentary Asli Azaadi (1999) also being screened at the exhibition. She remembers meeting Delhiite Gouri Sen in 1997, who joined the regiment “out of excitement to serve the nation for a noble cause.” There is Janaki Thevar, who took command after Sahgal was sent to Upper Burma, where a hospital stood at an advanced camp, and who witnessed comrades killed by a grenade; and Bhagyalakshmi Davies, who rejected marriage at 16, declaring it was “better to die for India’s independence than marry a man I may not like,” before enlisting in the INA.
The exhibition also remembers the women who hoisted the national flag inside Lahore Women’s Jail on October 9, 1942 — Subhadra Khosla, Satyavati Devi, Pushpa Gujral, Nirmal Kant, Sarla Sharma, and Vijay Chauhan. They ripped their own clothes to make a flag, climbed charpoys stacked as a platform, and declared solidarity despite guards’ resistance.
Other frontlines
The exhibition’s focus also shifts from battlefields to equally dangerous terrains in Bengal and Punjab. In Bengal, Illa Mitra endured torture in custody; At 13, Narayani Tripathi shot and injured a constable during a raid on her home to arrest her father, fled with eight constables in pursuit, and was later captured and imprisoned. In Punjab, veterans remember the trauma of Jallianwala Bagh and Partition violence. Gandhians like Sushila Nayyar worked alongside Gandhi in detention camps, while Sarla Shah lived participating in satyagraha and carrying bombs for revolutionary groups.
The archives also underscores how the freedom struggle’s ripples extended far beyond India’s borders. Many INA veterans and their families in Myanmar, who are still stateless, unable to buy property, without employment, or travel freely. “They exist on a Foreigners Registration Certificate that has to be renewed annually. Their children are as stateless as their grandchildren. The Indian government must take this up urgently. India’s freedom fighters cannot remain stateless,” says Chhabra.
She recalls meeting veteran D.R. Sharma of Myanmar: “He started crying and said, ‘Nobody has come from India in 60 years.’ I told him, “if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be walking in free India.”
A home for the stories
Much of the collection is digitised, but Chhabra hopes it will find a permanent home in a museum or public institution. “I hope it’s placed somewhere safe and accessible, for public benefit, not a commercial venture. It’s meant to be shared with the people of India and with future generations, so they know the immense sacrifices that went into achieving freedom,” she says.
Hamara Itihaas arrives at a time when history is being written and rewritten in real time and for Chhabra, the relevance of these stories is urgent. “Even today, women are pushed back into their homes. We have terrible working conditions, rampant harassment, and structural discrimination. We need indigenous role models — women who defied the odds in their time — to inspire the current and coming generations. That’s why I do this.”
She is blunt about the inadequacy of popular culture’s role models: “We are fed the same starlets talking about diet and fashion. That is not asli azaadi — true freedom is what these women fought for.”
On view till August 23 at Kamaladevi Complex, IIC, 11 am onwards
(Written by Adithi Reena Ajith)