When she departed, I chose not to follow her; instead, I headed to Palash's place rather than returning home.
"Could you please provide me with some newspaper articles about the famine that occurred here in Bengal a few years ago?" I inquired as soon as I arrived.
"What happened, Brown? Is everything okay? Did you confront her?" he asked in a concerned tone.
"Yes, I will, once you provide me with those articles."
"What will you do with those articles?"
"I need to know the reality."
He blinked before asking, "what reality, Brown? Look, I think you should go home and take a rest; you seem panicked," he suggested.
"No, please, Palash...please, help me; help me get me those articles," I pleaded.
He stared at me with frowned expression for few moments. "Okay, wait. I need to find the 1942-43 shelves. Please, sit here," he offered me a wooden stool before going inside his collection shelves. I sat, feeling stressed.
A few minutes later, he emerged. "I only have this old magazine, Brown. My shop is not that big to accommodate many books or newspapers," he explained. I hurriedly went to grab the magazine and started looking for the articles.
Sensing my desperation, he advised, "Why don't you go to the city library?"
I raised my head, frowning at him. "City Library?"
"Yes, you can find any article you want there. They must have all the newspapers from those years. I am sure you will get whatever you are looking for," he explained.
"Oh, yes, yes. Yes, yes, thank you so much, Palash," I patted his shoulder, feeling thankful.
"Please, friend, mention not. And don't be worried. Let me know if I can help you with anything," he said with a smile. I nodded hurriedly. "Take care, see you."
I hurried to the city library, conveniently located not far from the main market. Upon entering, I proceeded directly to the newspaper shelves, meticulously organized by years and dates. It took sifting through numerous newspapers before finally discovering the ones I sought.
After perusing more than ten articles, I sighed in disappointment, realizing that every word Avni uttered held truth. While The Statesman newspaper, being under British government ownership, didn't extensively report on the brutality against people's lives, other Indian-owned newspapers were a harsh wake-up call. My perception of British India underwent a profound shift.
The photographs captured during that period depicted the harrowing ordeal endured by the people of Bengal two years prior. It was barbaric; over three million lives were lost to hunger, poor sanitation, cholera, malaria, typhoid epidemics, and the absence of proper treatments as hospitals couldn't accommodate the overwhelming number of people. Children suffered severe malnutrition, succumbing to the cruel grip of hunger.
The British government could have easily assisted these people, but their indifference towards Indians was evident. Countless individuals lost their lands, jobs, and properties, resulting in mass destruction.
As I absorbed the images, my head spun, and a lump formed in my throat. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my vision blurred. The year 1943 cast a dark shadow over Bengal, and the squarely on the British government.
Exiting the library, I walked home slowly, reflecting on the innocent lives lost. Bhavani's struggle to feed his family, Avni's mother's death, and her forced labor weighed heavily on my mind. What disturbed me most was that they weren't isolated cases; there were countless families mistreated by us, the British.
YOU ARE READING
1945, My Love Story (Unedited & Raw Version)
Fiction HistoriqueThe love story of a British young soldier named Edwin Brown is recounted by himself in his diary-how and when he met her, how he fell in love with her, and how he fought for her. Immerse yourself in the realm of Indian history. Step into the vintage...
