Tracing the Lineage of Memory in the Book

The story of Birsa Munda in this book is that of a transitioning—the transition from systemic exploitation to the advent of new forms of law—and that of extractive industries. It is a narrative that marks the transition to post-colonial Jharkhand. It speaks of discontinuity; yet it also admits to great continuities. Politics then was organized by the ‘lost Munda raj’, a reclamation trope of Adivasis to secure abua disum. It displayed the complex process of transitioning: the making of sociopolitical fabric through encounters with the new institutional enterprise (colonial administration), violent caste orders (zamindars) and the theological carriers (missions).

The book briefly outlined the historical account of the land conflict that emerged from a series of new kinds of interventions, surveys and laws, missionization, and zamindari exploitation in the late 19th century. The historical contingencies frame the narrative of the historical memory of the region. This historical memory of the ulgulan presents a response to not only systemic violence but also the transition of power. In such a transition narrative, the book has identified a few nodal points to understand the contemporary articulation of Birsa's memory. Memory emerged as both a methodological and epistemic tool to illustrate the continuing effects of colonialism, the everyday politics of Adivasi memory and the enmeshing of the state in the shadows of the ulgulan. I have engaged with three specific ‘sites of memory’: statues, memorials and the Pathalgadi movement. The specific characteristic of each site explains its political use.

Birsa Munda, Adivasi icons at large and their legacy of anti-colonial struggle contain in themselves resistance as the primal force. In the wake of new political conditions—unabated wide-scale land dispossession, attempts at diluting protectionary legislations (such as the CNTA) and the normalization of development as the critical vocabulary in Adivasi regions, which has adverse effects on their lifeworld—any efforts to suspend or remove the force of resistance in portrayals of the anti-colonial icon is simply a betrayal of their heritage. In turn, I proposed in this book that memorialization should incorporate newer forms of the aesthetic of rebellion that mainstream the political urgencies.

Statues, memorials and a whole range of objects are far from being an isolated passive object for the aesthetic display of memory. In fact, they are also a manifestation of political ideologies and widespread entangled corporate interests.