Published in the Rajkot-based Gujarati daily Phoolchhab, the piece is about Dashriben Chaudhary, an Adivasi freedom fighter. Before I met her in 2006 at Vedcchi, all I knew was that she had “taught” Kasturba Gandhi to read and write while they were imprisoned together in Yerwada Jail in 1933 during the Civil Disobedience Movement—something I had read about in both English and Gujarati media.
As often happens with journalists, I didn’t write about her for The Times of India then. The story had already appeared in several dailies, and from a newsman’s angle, I thought there was nothing new to add. Perhaps I was wrong. We didn’t just talk about Kasturba—we spoke at length about Dashriben herself and her family’s deep involvement in the freedom struggle.
My visit to Vedcchi that year was not planned solely around her. I had been considering another inquiry—about my father’s wall paintings in Vedcchi Ashram. I had first learned about these from South Gujarat’s Congress stalwart of yesteryears, Zinabhai Darji, sometime in the mid-1990s. He had mentioned knowing my father, seeing those paintings, and promised to photograph them for me. All I knew from my father was that he had lived in Vedcchi Ashram before independence and painted its walls.
By then, I had already met Dashriben’s son, Ashok Chaudhary, a soft-spoken but incisive South Gujarat tribal activist with a Gandhian bent. I had been introduced to him by the late Achyut Yagnik—Gujarat’s top social activist, and my friend, philosopher, and guide after I made the state my journalistic karmabhoomi in 1993. Ashokbhai often urged me to visit Vedcchi.
My father’s connection to the ashram had another thread. Sometime in the early 1950s, Dr Zakir Husain had asked its founder, Jugatram Dave—a Gandhian close to Gandhi himself—to send an art teacher to Jamia Millia Islamia in Delhi. I have preserved the letter. My father readily agreed, saying he would serve any nationalist institution. He and my mother taught art at Jamia until their retirement in the mid-1970s.
But let me return to Gaurang Jani’s article on Dashriben, published on August 13 to mark Independence Day, titled Freedom Fighter Who Taught Kasturba to Read and Write: Dashriben Chaudhary. It tells how she was drawn into the freedom movement by Gandhi at just six years old.
In 1924, little Dashri attended a conference where Gandhi was present. Seeing him draped in a khadi scarf, she too approached to drape one on him. Gaurang writes, “Gandhi lifted her up, and noticing the jewellery on her hands and feet, told her, ‘Child, we are slaves; we should not wear ornaments.’ The little girl immediately removed her jewellery and never wore any again in her life.”
Born on October 3, 1918, in Vedchi to Ambaben and Rumsi Bhai, she benefited from compulsory education under Gaekwad rule. Her father and grandfather had both united local tribals against British rule and moneylender exploitation, and the family was deeply influenced by Gandhi’s ideals. Dashriben studied at the national school in Mandvi taluka, boycotting government schools.
When the Dandi March and Civil Disobedience Movement began in 1931, she left school to join the struggle. On January 26, 1933, while picketing a foreign cloth shop, she was arrested. Confronted at gunpoint and asked if she knew what could happen to her, the 14-year-old replied, “Yes, if I die, I will be called a martyr.” She was sentenced to a year in prison and sent to Yerwada Jail, where Kasturba Gandhi was also imprisoned. Living with Kasturba for a year, Dashriben taught her to read and write. After four months, Kasturba could write letters to Gandhi. When Gandhi learned that a tribal teenager had taught his wife to write, he reportedly said, “Tell this girl she has done what I could not do.”
Later, at Gujarat Vidyapith, she learned music under Pandit Narayan Moreshwar Khare, mastering the dilruba and harmonium. In 1942, she joined the Quit India Movement, leaving her studies to sing stirring patriotic songs. Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel often kept her close during events. Once, while leading a procession of 5,000 during a flag-hoisting programme in Bardoli, she was lathi-charged, arrested, and sentenced to another year in prison.
When I met her in 2006, then in her late eighties, she was brimming with memories. Upon hearing my father’s name, she instantly recalled both my parents: “Jagubhai and Vanlilaben… of course I knew them. We got them married in Vedcchi. They garlanded each other with sutar ni aanti (handmade cotton garland).”
I was taken aback. In all my years, neither my parents nor anyone else in the family had ever told me they were married in Vedcchi, much before they were formally married on May 25, 1952 at my maternal ancestral home in Ahmedabad following several years of stiff opposition from my mother's parents.
This was not just a forgotten detail—it was a revelation. Sitting there in that modest home on the edge of the ashram, I was hearing my own family history from someone who had lived it. For me, it felt as if the past had cracked open, offering a vivid glimpse I had never imagined.
Those humble cotton garlands, common among Gandhians, symbolised simplicity and shared ideals. In that instant, I could almost picture the scene—the quiet ceremony, the absence of pomp, the spirit of the freedom movement woven into the very fabric of the occasion.
She went on to recount vivid scenes of British police on horseback raiding tribal homes, beating activists, and arresting them—her father among those severely injured. That evening, in over three hours of conversation, she frequently broke into patriotic songs, her eyes alight with emotion.
We stayed overnight at her home, just on the border of Vedcchi Ashram. In NGO circles of Ahmedabad, it is widely believed that the ashram’s land was donated to Gandhi by her father, though officially it is recorded as having been given by Kalidas Desai, Dewan of the princely state of Bansda. In reality, the land was part of the traditional territory of local Adivasi communities, reclassified as “state land” under princely rule and then repurposed for the ashram.
The next morning, Ashokbhai showed us around the ashram. Sadly, none of my father’s wall paintings—once photographed by Zinabhai—remained; the walls had been repainted. Zinabhai had passed away in 2004, and my efforts since to trace the photographs have been in vain.
Dashriben passed away on September 2, 2013, at the age of 95. Gaurang Jani ends his tribute with a reminder: “On Independence Day, when we hoist the tricolour, let us remember Dashriben and reflect on how many sacrifices were made to win our freedom.”
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