Voices of India’s forgotten: Freedom fighters find a home at 'Hamaara Itihaas'

In the Main Art Gallery of the India International Centre in New Delhi, the past speaks in fragments — a crackling voice from an old tape, a faded photograph, a weathered letter.

Hamaara Itihaas – Archives of Freedom Fighters, curated by award-winning writer and filmmaker Sagari Chhabra, gathers these fragments into a living record of courage — and of the brutality that once sought to crush it.

Since 1995, Chhabra has travelled across India recording the memories of those who fought for freedom from a British Empire that met dissent with imprisonment, flogging, and execution.

It was the same empire whose officers, like Brigadier General Reginald Dyer, could order Indians in Amritsar to crawl through the dirt of Kucha Kaurianwala — their noses scraping the ground — as punishment, a spectacle of deliberate humiliation designed to break the spirit of a colonised people.

Her mission has been to document lives that official histories often neglect, especially the women who endured beatings, solitary confinement, and public shaming for daring to demand independence.   One of those women was Gouri Bhattacharya Sen of the Rani of Jhansi Regiment.

In an interview, she recalled: “The Ranis wrote a petition in their blood and asked me to give it to Netaji.”

Although the petition itself is not on display, her testimony preserves a searing memory of defiance forged under the shadow of British repression.

The gallery — part of the Kamaladevi Complex — is lined with photographs, handwritten letters, and screens looping interviews.

A striking black-and-white portrait of Bhagat Singh greets visitors near the entrance. Nearby, a dedicated section honors the heroes of the Ghadar Movement — the revolutionary network that fought to overthrow British rule. Chhabra notes that 40 Ghadar activists were hanged and 400 sentenced to long prison terms, their sacrifice remembered here through rare photographs and biographical accounts.

In one corner, her film Asli Azaadi (“Real Freedom”) plays, weaving together archival footage with contemporary testimonies. Some, like that of freedom fighter Kannusamy, remain etched in her mind: “It’s a funny question to ask an Indian! Once an Indian, always an Indian… if you get a chance to do something for your motherland, you must do it.”

At the exhibition’s inauguration, Chhabra paid tribute to the late Kuldip Nayar, the legendary journalist and human rights champion who supported her work from its earliest days. She recalled his unwavering belief in preserving the voices of those the British tried to erase from history.

Chhabra’s sustained commitment over nearly three decades has created a national resource of rare depth and authenticity. By placing women freedom fighters at the center, she has expanded the country’s understanding of its own past — and safeguarded voices that might otherwise have been lost forever.

Her work is marked by patience and empathy; she spends hours listening before she begins recording, earning the trust of men and women who have carried their memories of imprisonment, hunger, and resistance for decades in silence.

In a time when public memory is contested and marginal voices risk being erased, Chhabra’s archive offers both preservation and defiance. As she wrote recently: “Let this be a republic of love not hate, where we live, love, eat, and work together in peace under a beautiful, diverse razai that is India. Jai Hind!” Hamaara Itihaas – Archives of Freedom Fighters runs from August 9 to 23, 2025, open daily 11:00 AM–7:00 PM at the Main Art Gallery, Kamaladevi Complex, IIC, Lodhi Estate. Entry is free.

Each evening at 5:30 PM, Chhabra personally leads visitors through the exhibition, offering context and backstories behind the photographs, letters, and recorded testimonies, often drawing on her decades of research and field interviews. The experience is intimate — and unflinching. These voices and images do not sit behind glass as relics. They speak, directly and insistently, into the present.