A Brief History of Tezpur Mahila Samiti

A Rich Tapestry of Courage and ‘Her-Story’

Soaso soa bilati bai

Chanar Prava jai bicycle bai

Tiritor dekho morodor sah

Dekhi mare loke hasi-kah

Look, there goes Chanar Prava,

On her bike—the “bilati mem”!

Oh, she dares to act like a man,

And people laugh as she rides past.

At a time when colonial India shackled women within narrow gendered roles, any deviation from the norm was subject to ridicule. The above limerick was aimed at Chandraprabha Saikiani, who boldly rode a bicycle through the streets of Assam. In a society where women were expected to remain within the confines of the Ghor Jeuti (the domestic hearth), this simple act became a profound statement of defiance.

It was in these times of darkness—when patriarchy, casteism, and colonial hierarchies cast long shadows—that the first flickers of a women’s movement began to glow. Among them was the Tezpur Mahila Samiti, born not in uproar but in quiet determination. Its story is not just a historical account—it is a living memory woven from the threads of resistance, solidarity, and vision.

Foundations of a Movement

In 1919, as the world emerged from the ruins of war and India stirred with calls for independence, a small group of visionary women in the town of Tezpur, nestled by the banks of the Brahmaputra, established a collective that would change the course of women’s lives in Assam. Led by pioneers like Kironmoyee Agarwala and Chandraprabha Saikiani, the Tezpur Mahila Samiti was more than just an organization—it was a manifesto. A platform for education, empowerment, and collective identity.

In its early days, meetings were often held in humble spaces—such as Kolibari or the town’s Naamghars (religious congregational halls)—where spirituality merged with social transformation. Here, women spun yarn together, each thread symbolizing a quiet rebellion. Half of the yarn was donated—a small but deeply symbolic gesture of shared purpose.

As documented by Hemchandra Prabha Saikiani in Itibritto, Mahila Samitis across Assam became spaces where women could step out of domesticity and into the world of cultural discourse—reading, music, discussion, and spiritual inquiry. As scholar Dr. Hemjyoti Medhi notes, this was “a desirable extension of the Aideo (ideal Assamese woman)’s domain from the home into the public sphere.”

Catalysts for Change

The Samiti quickly became a powerful force in India’s freedom movement. When Mahatma Gandhi visited Tezpur in 1921, it was the Samiti that mobilised hundreds of women to attend his rally—many stepping out of their homes and removing their veils for the very first time. That evening, when foreign clothes were set ablaze, it wasn’t cloth that burned—it was a rejection of centuries of silence and submission.

Through everyday acts—spinning Khadi, boycotting foreign goods, promoting Swadeshi values—the women of the Samiti embedded themselves into the fabric of India’s resistance.

Resilience Through Reinvention

The journey was not without setbacks. The original Samiti was dissolved, only to be reconstituted in 1928 as the Tezpur Asamiya Mahila Samiti, distancing itself from the earlier iteration. Yet by the following year, former members including Saikiani rejoined individually, carrying forward the mission.

The Samiti navigated societal resistance, resource constraints, and internal shifts, yet it continued to evolve. In 1934, it staged an all-women play, Basantir Abhishek, to raise funds for malaria relief in Ceylon. In 1945, it began collecting funds for what would become Darrang College, the first higher education institution on Assam’s north bank.

When two Congressmen in 1941 called for the revival of the dormant Samiti, the word “Asamiya” was dropped—reflecting a broader, more inclusive vision. The Tezpur Mahila Samiti was reborn.

In 1948, the Samiti passed a resolution introducing fixed meal times—a seemingly minor decision that highlighted the unacknowledged labor and lack of leisure in women’s lives. This act echoed the concerns raised by Virginia Woolf in A Room of One’s Own (1929), where she explored the unequal distribution of time and space across genders.

Building Institutions, Shaping Futures

The 1950s ushered in initiatives for financial independence. In 1951, the Samiti launched a weaving centre and established the Shishu Bharati School. The loom, once a domestic tool, became a symbol of autonomy. Over a hundred women turned threads into livelihoods, nurturing skills, dignity, and economic freedom.

By 1947–48, then-secretary Swarnaprabha Mahanta dreamt of a permanent headquarters. That dream materialised in 1953, when Indira Gandhi, then known as the daughter of Prime Minister Nehru, laid the foundation stone in the presence of President Meena Agarwala.

The Samiti extended its compassion to victims of the 1962 Sino-Indian War, offering aid to displaced communities. Its influence now spanned across education, relief work, and cultural revival.

Navigating Tradition and Change

The Samiti was instrumental in reviving Assamese handicrafts and making traditional cotton mekhela sadors fashionable again. Yet, the emergence of the salwar kameez in the 1970s and 80s posed challenges to this vision rooted in tradition. In 1975, the TDMS (Tezpur District Mahila Samiti) was revived, marking another era of reflection and reinvention.

The Samiti’s cultural contributions helped Assamese women transition from being participants in folk traditions to active agents in politics, literature, and civic life.

From its inception, the Samiti addressed the three critical issues identified by Saikiani—purdah, child marriage, and opium addiction. What began as a protest against these injustices matured into a space of possibility, community, and hope.

Today, under the dynamic leadership of Mita Nangia Goswami and her dedicated team of volunteers, the Tezpur Mahila Samiti continues its legacy of empowerment and equity, adapting to contemporary challenges while holding fast to its foundational ideals.

The Eternal Flame

The story of the Tezpur Mahila Samiti is like a patchwork quilt, lovingly stitched over generations—each square a testimony to courage, struggle, and transformation. Its revolution was not in loud proclamations, but in the quiet, determined actions of women who refused to be silenced.

As the Brahmaputra flows past Tezpur, it carries echoes of those early days when a handful of women chose to imagine a freer world. Once affectionately called Poharir Mel (the fisherwomen’s gathering), the Mahila Samitis of Assam have illuminated paths for the subjugated and the subaltern.

This is not just her story. It is our story—of how a collective dream can become an enduring force for justice.

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Sources:

Gendered Publics by Dr. Hemjyoti Medhi

Interviews with members of TMS and TDMS