By the following week, all the gawai were ready. Their voices had transformed, and they were now proficient in the songs that conveyed unity and patriotism. It was time to decide how to spread these songs to common people without Britishers outright stopping it.
After deep contemplation, I thought to form a semi-secret performance group. The concept was to create a buzz among the local people about a nighttime song performance in their respective areas, all while keeping the nature of the songs under wraps. I was sure with our intelligence organization capability was an easy task.
This approach would generate interest within the local population without raising any suspicion from the British authorities at first.
There he would perform I single song and if possible also share stories or poems with local people and give the idea about unity and pride about our land. He would also subtly guide them to stand against the British who are foreign and harming us like leach who such our resources without giving anything in return.
After each performance the gawai would swiftly relocate to new venues, leaving the British guessing and scrambling to decipher our movements. This strategy would allow us to spread the songs far and wide, making it seem like a grassroots movement rising organically from the locals. The more I contemplated this plan, the more I recognized its potential to ignite something truly significant.
As the possibilities unfolded before me, a surge of inspiration coursed through my veins. I realized we needed to flesh out this plan further, taking our time to ensure every detail was meticulously arranged. This plan would not only ignite the first rebellion but also signify the first true act of defiance by the locals against British authority. I knew, without a doubt, that once they heard these songs, the melodies would embed themselves in their hearts. People would hum the tunes and carry the verses with them, and soon our message would be on the lips of every villager, merchant, and traveller.
But the plan didn't stop there; I had something else in mind—something bold and deeply symbolic. This would be the perfect moment to introduce the concept of an Indian flag. While performing in each region band carries a flag or symbol something like—a green flag in Awadh, saffron in Delhi, and white elsewhere. Ashoka chakra on the back of the shirt in one region while the lion of Askoka in another region During the performances,
but by the end of the year or after some time in this movement these colors and symblon would converge, forming a united flag that symbolized our collective identity. It would represent something powerful: that by bringing together all of India, we create this flag, a vivid emblem of freedom and unity.
As these ideas swirled in my mind, I felt an exhilarating sense of purpose. This was more than just a cultural act—it was a declaration of intent. We were no longer merely resisting; we were laying the groundwork for something monumental: a unified rebellion, a beacon of hope that would resonate far and wide, despite the myriad challenges we knew lay ahead.
Determined to make this work, I understood that this wasn't merely a performance—it was the seed of a revolution. To set things in motion, we needed a more detailed plan and a step-by-step approach.
I called sufiyan and told him about my plan.
Sufiyan was taken aback by the plan. His eyes widened as he absorbed the scope of what I had just laid out before him.
"This… this would be big," he said slowly, his voice thick with concern. "And dangerous. If the British find out about our involvement—"
"I know," I interrupted, my tone firm but steady. "But this is necessary. At some point, we need to start resisting them, or they'll keep pushing us further and further. If we don't act now, it will only get worse."
He shook his head slightly, still wrestling with the magnitude of it all. "But... is it the right time?"
"There's no right or wrong time for this," I replied, leaning forward. "The more we delay, the more difficult it'll become. It's like that story of the boiling frog. They're boiling us slowly, and we don't even realize it."
Sufiyan sighed deeply, but I could see the conviction forming in his eyes. He was beginning to understand. Sensing his resolve, I leaned back in my chair and asked, "So, what do we need to keep in mind if we really want to make this work?"
He paused for a moment, thinking through the logistics. "First off, we'll need more gawai. If we want this to happen in multiple places at the same time, we'll need more performers. That way, we can spread the revolution quicker, and the British will have less time to react."
I nodded, understanding the importance of speed. "What else?"
"Secondly, we should wait until we've translated the songs and stories into local languages. The message has to be clear to everyone. And if possible…" He hesitated before continuing. "If we can create some sort of distraction to keep the British busy, even for a short time, that would be ideal. But it's not entirely necessary."
"How much time would we need to train more gawai and complete the translations?" I asked, eager to finalize the timeline.
"At least a month," Sufiyan replied after some thought. "Maybe more. Training the new gawai, getting the songs and stories translated... it'll take time. But once it's done, we'll be ready to cover all areas simultaneously."
I sat back, considering his words. A month was a long time, but it would be worth the wait if it meant our movement had the strength to spread far and wide. As we continued discussing the details, a sudden idea came to me.
"Why not distribute small pamphlets during the performances?" I said, my excitement rising. "We could print short stories on them and give them out to the people. It'll reinforce the message even further."
Sufiyan's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "That could work, huzoor. We'll need to start printing them immediately and arrange transport to different regions. They can be handed out discreetly during the performances."
I nodded, feeling the pieces of our plan coming together. The pamphlets would be another layer to the strategy, ensuring that even those who didn't attend the performances would hear our message.
"This will work," I said quietly, more to myself than to Sufiyan. "This will set everything in motion."
Sufiyan got up, his expression more determined now. "With your permission, huzoor, I'll start planning right away," he said, turning toward the door.
I nodded but just as he was about to leave, a thought struck me. "Wait, Sufiyan."
He paused and turned back, curious.
"Before you go," I continued, "let's decide on a name for this performance band. And while we're at it, we should also settle on a name for our intelligence organization,We've put it off for long enough."
Sufiyan smiled slightly, as though the thought had also been lingering in his mind. "You're right. We've delayed it too long."
He stepped back into the room, and we both sat down again, our minds now shifting to the next important task
"So," I began, "what should we call the band? It needs to be something that speaks to the people, something that represents unity, strength, and resistance."
Sufiyan thought for a moment before responding. "What about something like Swaraj Sangeet? It captures the essence of freedom and music coming together."
I nodded, considering it. "It's a good start. I like the idea of freedom being in the name, but maybe something that's easier for the people to remember."
After a few moments of silence, an idea came to me. "What about Awaz-e-Hind? The Voice of India. Simple, but powerful."
Sufiyan's eyes lit up in agreement. "Awaz-e-Hind... yes, it's perfect. The name itself will spread like wildfire."
I smiled, feeling satisfied. "Then it's settled. The band will be called Awaz-e-Hind."
Sufiyan nodded, his smile widening, but I wasn't done yet. "Now, for the intelligence organization. We need something that sounds intimidating, something that gives the British a reason to fear us."
He leaned forward, intrigued. "It should be a name that evokes a sense of mystery and strength."
I thought for a moment, and then inspiration struck. "What about Dawn? It signifies a new beginning, the rise of something powerful. The British may not see us coming, but when we strike, it will be the dawn of a new era."
Sufiyan's eyes brightened with excitement. "Dawn... I love it! It's powerful and evokes a sense of hope and revolution."
"And it's ironic," I added with a smile. "Dawn will bring about the end of the British in a place where 'the sun never sets.' Imagine that—Dawn heralding the twilight of their empire."
"Exactly," Sufiyan said, his expression thoughtful. "It's a beautiful irony.
"Or," I added, "we could go with Akatsuki. It is more fierce and memorable and it's a Japanese translation for dawn"
"Akatsuki is also perfect," Sufiyan agreed. "It's memorable and has a fierce edge. Either name would serve us well."
I nodded thoughtfully. "Let's go with Akatsuki for the intelligence organization. It's symbolic of our intent to bring light into the darkness imposed by the British."
"Then it's settled. The performance group will be Awaz-e-Hind, and our intelligence network will be Akatsuki "
Sufiyan rose again, this time with a renewed sense of purpose. "I'll make sure these names are known, but only among those who need to know."
"Go now, and start making the arrangements," I said, feeling the weight of our choices.
[ Akatsuki(Dawn): name of the intelligence organisation.]
[Awaz-e-Hind(Voice of India): name of the performance band]