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This is an archive article published on August 11, 2007

THE FREEDOM SPIEL

Here is how India sold itself to a newly liberated people, mixing national triumph with a good dose of commerce

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History is, sometimes, a scribble on the margins, a forgotten footnote or even a two-column advertisement inserted in the corner of a newspaper. One midnight, 60 years ago, the grand narrative was of an inspired prime minister speaking about a tryst with destiny, of two nations being born amid bloodbath while the Mahatma slept on the floor in a dilapidated Muslim haveli in Beliaghata. But beyond the headlines and the big story, another India was ad-libbing about freedom.

In the run-up to Independence Day, the nationalist spirit spilled over to the advertisements that appeared on newspapers—a toothpaste brand called itself “India’s Leading National Toothpaste” as popular as the National Flag of India, while a cement company’s spiel was “Construct Your House of Independence”. If Evening in Paris Face Powder and Cavenders Magnum Cigarettes had sketches of memsahibs with powder puff and a puff of smoke, suddenly a bindi-sporting Kanan Devi became, to use a word that was hardly in circulation then, the brand ambassador of a soap and radiant skin. The fixation with beautiful people had not changed but the face was Indian. And Chevrolet owners happily drove in for their free flags on August 15, little knowing that the Tricolour would not flutter on the Chevy for long — six years later General Motors was asked to shut shop in socialist India.

Those were simpler times when globalisation and Bollywood were not quite part of the vocabulary; when a groom earning Rs 100 a month was a suitable boy; when the radio was a luxury; and when Hind Atom Bomb was just a fire cracker. Those were complex times when the government asked refugees to collect ration cards on arrival and was overwhelmed by people who were pouring into the Capital in lakhs; when a biscuit company asked customers to “please ask for Barley biscuits” since a wheat shortage had gripped the country after World War II; and when a matrimonial ad sought a “disciplined and accomplished virgin girl, aged 12-16”. Here is the zeitgeist of the times revealed in classified columns and catch lines; here is the fine print that points to the big picture of Free India.

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