Next came the crucial task of choosing songs that would resonate with the common people—melodies that could be easily sung and would convey my message of unity and pride in our land. I needed songs that could rise from the lips of farmers in the fields, artisans in their workshops, and children playing in the streets.
I envisioned folk tunes that reflected the spirit of different regions, songs that spoke of the beauty of our landscapes, the richness of our culture, and the resilience of our people. Each note should carry the essence of our shared struggles and aspirations, making it easy for anyone to join in.
Perhaps I could draw inspiration from the classical poetry of past poets, adapting their verses into lyrical forms that could be sung. The rhythm of their words could lend a sense of gravitas, echoing the historical significance of our quest for freedom and unity.
I also thought about incorporating simple refrains, catchy enough to stick in people's minds, creating a sense of camaraderie among those who sang them. These songs would become anthems of hope, reminders that we were all in this fight together.
As I began to think about the songs that could effectively carry my message, memories flooded back—songs I had heard from various movies, the stirring melodies that echoed through the streets during Independence Day and Republic Day celebrations. Those tunes were not just music; they were the heartbeats of a nation yearning for freedom and unity.
I decided to categorize the songs, focusing first on those that spoke of unity. These songs could be sung openly, allowing people to express their sense of belonging without fear. They would resonate in crowded markets, at bustling roundabouts, and in homes filled with the scent of traditional dishes. These would be the songs that would bind us together, celebrating our shared identity as Indians.
On the other hand, I recognized the need for songs about freedom—powerful anthems that would inspire courage in those willing to take risks. However, these songs could not be sung openly just yet; they would find their place in small, secret gatherings where those of us yearning for change could gather in hushed tones, sharing our hopes and dreams away from prying eyes.
I envisioned organizing these gatherings, creating spaces where like-minded individuals could come together to share stories, songs, and plans. In these intimate settings, we could ignite the fire of revolution, fostering a collective spirit that would ultimately empower our struggle.
With a sense of determination, I set about writing down the lyrics of the songs that resonated with my vision.
Some of the songs I chose were timeless, already deeply embedded in the soul of our people. One of them was "Vande Mataram"—a song that had always stirred something deep within me. The words, so simple yet powerful, spoke of the motherland as a goddess, worthy of our deepest love and devotion.
The imagery of our land—rich with fields, rivers, and the cool breeze—made the song more than just a melody. It was a tribute to Bharat Mata, our motherland, a reminder of what we were fighting for.
Another song that came to mind was "Maa Tujhe Salaam," though it wouldn't be created for years to come, its message was timeless. It was more than a song; it was an anthem for those who loved their land more than life itself.
I imagined rallies where thousands of voices would rise as one, singing the line:
"Maa Tujhe Salaam, Vande Mataram…"
The sheer power of such a moment, the sound of a crowd united in song, gave me chills.
With "Vande Mataram" and "Maa Tujhe Salaam" stirring my mind, I knew I had to add more songs that could inspire the masses, songs that could touch every corner of the land. "Mere Watan Se Acha" was one such song. Its lines held the promise of loyalty, love, and sacrifice:
"Mere watan se achha
Koi watan nahi hai..."
It captured the heart of our fight, that there was no place more precious than our homeland. This song would remind people of their bond to the soil, and of their duty to protect it at all costs.
Another one was "Saare Jahan Se Achha". Though the future would see this song become iconic, even now, the lyrics are deeply resonant. It painted a picture of our land as a beacon of beauty and strength:
"Saare jahan se achha,
Hindustan hamara..."
The pride these words carried could lift the spirits of even the most downtrodden. In this song, there was no division—Hindustan belonged to all of us, and we to it. It was the perfect song to instil a sense of collective identity.
Lastly, I couldn't leave out "Dil Diya Hai Jaan Bhi Denge"—a powerful song of sacrifice, something the freedom fighters of tomorrow would embody. The words rang in my ears as I wrote them down:
"Dil diya hai, jaan bhi denge
Ae watan tere liye..."
This song would strike at the core of every individual who heard it, reminding them that in the end, freedom came with sacrifice. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be worth it.
Qadir: "Servant, please call Sufiyan and tell him it's a bit urgent."
Servant: "Yes, sahib." Without wasting a second, the servant rushed out of the room, disappearing down the hall to find Sufiyan.
I leaned back in my chair, tapping the pen against the desk.
I could already picture crowds gathering, singing in unison, their voices rising together like a storm.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open. Sufiyan stepped in, his expression calm as always.
Qadir: "Sufiyan, I've been thinking... we're too divided. Each region and ruler is fighting their own battles, but there's no unity. And if we stay like this, the British will keep exploiting us." I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "So, I thought—what can bring the ordinary people together? That's when it hit me. We need songs, stories, and poems that speak to everyone. Something they can sing and share. And... a flag. A symbol for them to rally around."
Sufiyan: "A flag and songs?" His eyebrows raised in curiosity as he looked at me.
Qadir: "Yes. I've already finished designing the flag." I pulled out the design and spread it out on the desk. "A tricolour flag. But instead of the Ashoka Chakra, I've chosen the Lion of Ashoka. It represents power and authority. It will remind people that India is meant to be strong, united."
Sufiyan examined the flag, nodding slowly. "This... this will speak to them, sahib. It's bold. It gives people something to stand behind."
Qadir: "Exactly. And the songs—" I handed him the papers, showing the lyrics of Wande Mataram and Maa Tujhe Salaam. "I've written these. They're songs of unity, songs that can be sung openly. We'll use them to stir the people's hearts and remind them of their land."
Sufiyan took the papers, his expression turning serious as he read through the words. "These songs are powerful. They will resonate with the people, sahib."
Qadir: "That's the idea. I want you to gather some gawai. Train them to sing these songs in the markets and in the streets. Wherever people gather, they should hear these words. They should feel proud of their land."
Sufiyan: "I'll see to it. The gawai will be ready, and the songs will spread." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "What about the poems and stories? The ones about freedom?"
Qadir: "We'll share those in secret for now. Let the people sing these songs first, get them used to the idea of unity. Then, in smaller gatherings, we'll introduce the stories of freedom." I met his eyes. "We need to be careful, but we also need to act."
Sufiyan nodded, determined. "Understood. I'll make sure the songs are sung, and the flag is seen."
Qadir: "One more thing, Sufiyan." I leaned forward, resting my hands on the desk. "I need you to establish contact with the members of the Voices of Calcutta. Instruct them to start writing stories and poems—focused on unity, and the pride we should feel for our history."
Sufiyan nodded, understanding the gravity of the task. "Understood, As soon as you give me the stories, I'll reach out to them. They'll know what to do."
Qadir: "Good." I handed him a stack of paper. "Make sure the stories flow with the same message—unity and the pride of our shared heritage. We need to get this right."
Sufiyan: "I'll take care of it. Once I have the stories, I'll contact them immediately." He took the papers from my desk, his expression focused and resolute.
Qadir: "That's what I need. Thank you, Sufiyan."
With a final nod, Sufiyan left the room, leaving me to my thoughts. This revolution wasn't just about battles and guns; it was about words, ideas, and the unity that stories could inspire.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the gardens, I realized it was already past Maghrib time. I needed a break from all the thinking.
I called for my servant. "Prepare a bath for me, will you? And while I'm at it, make sure some food is ready afterwards."
The servant nodded quickly. "Right away, sahib!"
After a refreshing bath, I savored a light meal, letting the flavors of the food wash over me. Once I finished eating, I decided to take a short walk through the gardens. The night air was cool, and the fragrant flowers were a soothing balm for my weary mind.
Once I returned to my room, the exhaustion hit me again, and I felt the weight of the day pulling me down. I crawled into bed, letting my thoughts drift into a peaceful slumber, already planning to continue my writing tomorrow. The stories I wanted to share were waiting, and I could feel the beginnings of something powerful stirring within me.