Reliving the revolution

The nonchalant manner in which these young rustics romped off to plunder the Britons, depriving them of the snobbery so associated with the stiff upper lip, gave a black eye to the bloated British ego.
Your average college going hunk would not dream of what the handful achieved. As if sipping a cup of tea by the village chaupal they just started off towards the Kakori Railway station.Hawai chappals then did not portray poverty as much as it did a defiant attitude, the chutzpah, with which they took the train by storm. It was after all money which was essentially Indian. What if the money was being transported under tight security.
The four 20 ft by 6 ft mural paintings at the ''Kakori Shahid Smriti Udyan'' capture the essence, which was, by the way, not freedom ''struggle'' per se, as it was termed. The scenes depicted in these intense paintings by renowned artist Mohd Shakil sketch the deep emotion which brought India freedom from British colonial rule. It was a group of ''common'' people as shown on the station. Common, Shakil remarks, as in pens showing from their shirt pockets, wearing chappals — Jiske haath mein jo bhi tha wo le kar chal diya... (they carried along whatever they had in their hands while they were at their homes).
While one can see the tiranga in its natural proud swirl in the background, the ''box'' is wrapped in the British flag. It is not shown as a treasure chest with money to be seized, but, could be anything — thoda sa modern touch hai yahan... aur realistic bhi (A modern stroke, realistic too), observes Shakil on his own piece. Yes, could be anything... does the painter suggest that the box depicted freedom...?
The police on the job of guarding the box are Indian, but obviously they were not inducted on good posts (Shakil ponders). The Indian flag in hands, all set to lay down their lives for their motherland, the young group in the mural reflected the message that it was no train dacoity as publicised by the Britons, but an ''enough is enough'' warning to Britsh forces to scram if they wanted to live.
Four freedom fighters are moving forward. Thorns in their path are non-existent for all these happy-go-lucky firebrand rustics care. So fire just might be add to their arsenal. The apparent hurdles act as a balm which takes the pain away while they take long strides towards target — Azaadi.
"Woh koi chor nahin thae," observes Shakil in another mural he created, explaining the reason he had refused to show their faces while they were being taken to the gallows. Indian flag covering their faces, they fearlessly embraced death.
The passion was overpowering. The Britsh, at times, would be almost scared upon a chance encounter with a fiery freedom fighter. Though they would not make that apparent. A headless youth with the Indian flag held high in one hand and rifle in the other would perhaps make one realise the fervour in the romantic. Who would rather have his head cut off than let the revered flag fall to dust.
The colour scheme gives mood to the glass mural wherein you cannot make a nose, or shape the lips, give an expression. Coloured square glass pieces covering the four 120 sq ft are what the painter uses for shaping the mural — recreating the passionate era. One-and-a-half month time for recreating history is enough.
Of course, the foundation has to be firm. "It was almost similar to the experience while creating murals for the Kalindi Van park in the Vrindavan scheme of the UP Housing and Development Board (UPHDB)," recollects Shakil — Krishna there, is ''karma'' not ''dharma''. The expression here is not simply filling the walls, but to give a message. "I studied the subject, met housing commissioner VN Garg, understood what he wanted — it was recreating the intense times, giving a fresh feeling to Lucknow — after all, as Garg sahab said — we must make our contributions to Lucknow".
Realising the importance of the ideology behind the park, "even before actually starting the project I would visit the spot, sit there for hours — taking in the whole scene — khajur ke ped — and many a time I felt yahan kuch hua tha...