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India Wins Freedom
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A Pinch of Salt!
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Bardoli
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A People Reject Their Rulers
Jallianwala — The Aftermath
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From Swadeshi to Swaraj
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The Monk Who Shook The Nation
Father of Indian Unrest
An Old Man's Dream
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Pressing On !
Europeans Take To The Street!
The British Raj in Black and White
Mamool Raj
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Hunger Deaths
The Delhi Durbar
Return to Swadeshi
Barbarous Britannia
‘Rani Ka Hookum’
Perishing in Peace
The Blue Mutiny
English Education
The Trial of the Last Emperor
Roll of Honour
The Empire Strikes Back
British Authority Collapses
Sepoys on the Move
Tribal Uprisings
The Empire Builders
For God and Country

The resistance began to spread to other villages and within two years peasants in all the districts of Bengal had vowed to give up growing indigo even if it cost them their lives.
Sisir Kumar Ghose, Harish Chandra Mukherjee the editor of the Hindu Patriot and many other intellectuals worked relentlessly to rouse public opinion against forced cultivation of indigo. Lieutenant-Governor J.P. Grant was most sympathetic towards the plight of the indigo cultivators. By the end of 1860, the cultivation of indigo in Bengal had come to an end. However, it continued in Bihar, particularly in Champaran where fifty years later, M.K. Gandhi would emerge as a mass leader.

Indigo in Song and Drama

The anguish of the indigo cultivators found expression in numerous folk songs and is graphically depicted in the famous play Neel Darpan written by Dinabandhu Mitra. The play evoked considerable emotion whenever it was staged. During one performance, a spectator is said to have hurled shoes at the actors playing the roles of the planters.
One of the folk songs translated by Rev. Long, a Christian priest, goes like this:
When the planter first applies to the ryots to sow indigo, he comes like a beggar,
But finally he makes grass grow on the ryot's bones;
The indigo planters come like a needle,
But go out like a ploughshare 
And are devastating Bengal like swarms of locusts;
The king looks on while the subjects are drowned;
Should we shut our eyes at night
We see the white face before us, and through fear, our lives fly away like a bird;
Our souls are burning in the strong flames of pain.

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