"Let us not seek to measure a man’s worth by the medals on his chest, but by the love he carried for his land."
On the evening of April 14, 2025, at around 5:30 PM, I received a message from Dr. Vekho Swuro, the son of Poswuyi Swuro. It read:
“Sad to inform you that my father, Poswuyi Swuro, 106 years, who was appointed as DB by Subhas Chandra Bose in 1944, took his last breath at 4.03 PM on 14.04.2025 at his native house at Ruzazho village.”
It was more than a personal bereavement—it was a profound national loss. With his passing, we lost one of the last living links to a defining chapter in India’s freedom struggle. A close associate of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose and a devoted member of the Azad Hind Fauj, Poswuyi Swuro’s life stands as a testament to patriotism, sacrifice, and silent heroism. This tribute is a humble offering in honour of a forgotten son of the soil who epitomised loyalty and service to the nation.
Born in 1919 into a humble agrarian family in Ruzazho village of present-day Nagaland, Swuro’s early life was rooted in simplicity. His parents, Nuzuru Swuro and Pozolu Sapuh, raised him with values of integrity and resilience. Remarkably, he received his primary education in an English-medium school—a rarity at the time—which laid the foundation for his later role in the national movement.
In his early twenties, fate placed him in the path of one of the most charismatic leaders in India’s history—Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose. It was during the legendary march of the Azad Hind Fauj (Indian National Army) towards Delhi, cutting through the thick jungles of the Patkai Hills, that young Swuro found himself swept up in the tide of revolutionary fervour. Inspired by Netaji’s vision of a free and united India, he joined the INA’s efforts to overthrow British colonial rule.
Recognising his intellect, sincerity, and communication skills, Netaji appointed Swuro as a Dubhashi—an interpreter and liaison between the INA and local Naga communities and the local administrator. According to Poswuyi, Netaji held him in high regard and even recorded his name in his personal diary—an exceptional honour that reflected the deep trust and responsibility entrusted to him.
As Dubhashi and Local administrator, Swuro travelled extensively from village to village, spreading Netaji’s message of resistance and unity. He mobilised local support, organised logistics, collected food supplies, and inspired entire communities—including women and children—to assist the INA and its Japanese allies. Villagers offered everything they had—despite the strain it placed on their limited resources. Driven by hope and Netaji’s promises, they endured hardship in anticipation of a better future. They cooked meals, fetched water, carried supplies, dug trenches, built camps, carried arms and ammunitions to the frontline.
In July 2021, I had the honour of meeting Poswuyi Swuro at his modest home in Ruzazho. Seated beside a large cut-out of Netaji, his Supreme Commander, he vividly recalled the day Subhas Chandra Bose arrived in the village in April 1944—on horseback, flanked by tall, turbaned INA soldiers. Though initially fearful, the villagers were soon moved by Netaji’s humility and visionary assurances. He had promised to return and develop their region with roads, schools, hospitals, and water systems. But destiny had other plans.
Poswuyi Swuro recalled with a heavy heart the tragic ambush by British forces at Dzulha, about 50 km from Ruzazho, on 30th April 1944. He was among four Naga guides including his elder brother Vesuyi assisting the joint INA and Japanese forces. As the column retraced their steps through Kilomi and the surrounding jungles, they approached the British Bungalow at Dzulha, unaware that British troops had taken up a strategic position above the road. Suddenly, an ambush was launched. In the fierce skirmish that ensued, two of his Naga companions were martyred followed by the killing of three Japanese soldiers. Amidst the chaos, the troops scattered, and Poswuyi and Vesuyi escaped from village to village until they reached home. It was a brutal reminder of the dangers these unsung heroes faced at the battlefront, sacrificing their lives for a free India.
His reflections on Netaji were filled with both reverence and pain. He lamented that India had failed to honour the leader who had liberated large parts of the Naga Hills and Manipur and even established a provisional administrative centre at Ruzazho. “Had Suba Bose won the war,” he said, “India would have been a more prosperous nation—and perhaps my village too would have become a model of development.” He never accepted the news of Netaji’s death, holding firmly to the belief that his beloved commander would one day return to Ruzazho to fulfil the promises he had made.
His able son, Dr. Vekho Swuro—whom I had the privilege of meeting and befriending—often speaks with reverence about his father’s profound love for the country and his unshakable bond with Suba Bose. He shared his father’s long-cherished dream of building a memorial in Ruzazho to honour Netaji. Today, it is heartening to note that due to the relentless efforts of the Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose Memorial Development Committee, the Government of India’s Ministry of Culture has initiated the development of such a memorial—an act that reflects the present administration’s commitment to acknowledging Netaji’s legacy.
Swuro often wept at the continued underdevelopment of his beloved region, recalling with emotion the promises of transformation made by Netaji. Even during the height of insurgency in Nagaland, when many households were coerced into sending youth to rebel forces, Swuro stood his ground. He defied pressure, upheld peace, and remained steadfast in his loyalty to the Indian nation—just as he had during the INA campaign. His commitment to the nation never wavered, even in the face of great adversity.
Even after Netaji’s departure from the region, Swuro remained his devoted follower. For more than eight decades, he preserved not only Netaji’s memory but also the collective history of Naga people’s contribution to the independence movement. Through oral narratives, local celebrations, and the careful preservation of historical sites, he ensured that the sacrifices of his people would not be forgotten. To this day, Ruzazho continues to celebrate Netaji’s birth anniversary with pride and reverence, and the house where Netaji once stayed remains a preserved monument of history.
Yet, this story also lays bare a painful truth—a national failing. Despite their undeniable contributions, heroes like Poswuyi Swuro remain largely absent from mainstream historical discourse. According to Dr. Vekho, more than 900 individuals from the region had served the INA and participated in the Kohima Campaign, but none have received governments official recognition. It is indeed an injustice to these great souls of our nation. In contrast, soon after the independence many so-called "freedom fighters" who had no role in the actual struggle were awarded pensions due to political patronage, while genuine warriors like Swuro and companions were systematically overlooked and excluded from recognition for decades.
Why has this injustice persisted? Is it because they fought under the leadership of Netaji— a leader who himself was marginalised in post-independence narratives? Or is it because they did not align themselves with the Gandhi-Nehru establishment? Or perhaps it reflects a broader national apathy towards acknowledging the diverse and decentralized efforts that made India’s freedom possible?
These are uncomfortable questions. But they deserve answers.
As we debate these issues, one truth remains undeniable: Poswuyi Swuro, like his Supreme Commander, lived and , departed this world without ever seeking reward, recognition, or honour.. He stood tall among the countless unnamed patriots who gave their all for India’s liberation. His story—like those of many others—deserves to be heard, remembered, and honoured.
Though no state wreath may be laid upon his grave, the memory of Poswuyi Swuro lives on—in the hearts of his people, in the hills he loved, and in the oral traditions of Nagaland. His life is a powerful reminder that India’s freedom was not a history of one man or one family, but the culmination of sacrifices made by countless souls—from the coasts of Tamil Nadu to the peaks of Kashmir, from the deserts of Rajasthan to the jungles of the Northeast.
Let us not forget them. Let us, at long last, give them their due.
JAI HIND
Dr Raktim Patar, Associate Professor, Centre for Historical Studies, JNU
