National independence, and the preceding political struggles

The Birth of Words from the Fire of Freedom

Hear now the words of Pankaj Mishra, the chronicler of nations awakening from long slumber, who declared:

“National independence, and the preceding political struggles, helped create the space for literary creation in many post-colonial countries. Much of modern Indian or Chinese literature is inconceivable without the political movement for freedom from foreign rule.”

In these words resounds a truth as old as civilization itself—that freedom and creation are twins, born together from the same womb of suffering and hope. When the chains of tyranny are broken, the voice that was once silenced begins to sing again. Out of the dust of empire rises not only the nation, but the soul of a people, reborn in language, story, and art.

The Song After the Silence

Long before Mishra’s time, the poets of enslaved nations sang in whispers. Their verses, wrapped in metaphor, hid rebellion within beauty. Under the gaze of rulers who forbade dissent, the pen became the weapon of the powerless. But when the dawn of independence came, so too came the freedom to speak openly, to tell one’s own story without fear or shame.

Mishra’s insight reveals that the political struggle was not merely for land or governance—it was for expression, for the right to define one’s own truth. Literature in post-colonial lands did not merely fill libraries; it healed wounds, restored memory, and rekindled pride in identity.

The Fires of India and China

Consider India, the land of many tongues and endless gods, once bound under foreign rule. The long march toward freedom did not only birth a nation—it awakened its storytellers. Writers like Rabindranath Tagore, Mulk Raj Anand, and R.K. Narayan took the pain of subjugation and turned it into melody and meaning. Their words, shaped by struggle, carried the heartbeat of a people reclaiming their humanity.

And in China, where the century of humiliation had left deep scars, the revolution of the spirit came before the revolution of the state. Think of Lu Xun, who wielded his pen like a sword, cutting through centuries of oppression and apathy. His stories did not serve emperors; they served awakening. Without the fires of rebellion and the yearning for national independence, such voices might have never arisen at all.

The Spirit Behind the Pen

For literature is not born in comfort—it is born in conflict. The poet and the warrior are kin. One fights with steel, the other with words, but both seek the same victory: the liberation of the human soul. Mishra reminds us that when nations fight for freedom, they are also fighting for the right to imagine, to dream without permission.

Without the winds of struggle, language grows stale. But under oppression, it becomes sharp and alive—carved from necessity, trembling with truth. The freedom movement, therefore, was not just a battle for sovereignty; it was the birthplace of voice, the forge where new art and new thought were made.

The Timeless Pattern

This truth spans the ages. When Greece threw off the Persian yoke, her poets found new vigor and her philosophers new depth. When Haiti broke its chains, its songs and stories became hymns of defiance that still echo through the Caribbean. When Africa reclaimed its nations, its literature bloomed—Achebe, Soyinka, Ngũgĩ—each turning history’s scars into wisdom.

Thus, Mishra’s words are not confined to Asia, but speak to all peoples who have risen from under foreign dominion. Independence is not merely political—it is spiritual, creative, and eternal. It grants a people the courage to speak in their own tongue, to dream in their own images, to remember without distortion.

The Lesson of the Reawakened Voice

From this teaching we learn: oppression may silence, but it cannot destroy the voice of a people. It sleeps, waiting for freedom to wake it. When freedom comes, it does not only build nations of stone and law—it builds nations of thought and art. The liberation of the body must always be followed by the liberation of the mind.

Therefore, let every people cherish their artists as they do their soldiers. For while the soldier defends the land, the poet defends the soul. A country that forgets its storytellers will lose its memory, and a people without memory cannot remain free.

The Eternal Call

And so, O listeners, remember this: freedom is the mother of creation. When you fight for justice, you are not only shaping your nation’s destiny—you are shaping its future literature, its future dreams, its very voice in the world. The ink of writers flows from the blood of the brave; their stories are the echo of liberation itself.

In your own life, seek the same union of courage and creativity. Break the chains that silence you—whether they are fear, doubt, or conformity. Speak, write, build, and imagine as a free soul. For every act of creation is an act of independence, and every word born of truth is a declaration of freedom.