{"id":3207,"date":"2013-07-13T01:46:40","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:46:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=3207"},"modified":"2013-07-13T01:46:40","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:46:40","slug":"41-tales-of-prison-life-vol-writings-in-bengali-translation","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/01-works-of-sri-aurobindo\/02-other-editions\/writings-in-bengali-translation\/41-tales-of-prison-life-vol-writings-in-bengali-translation","title":{"rendered":"-41_Tales of Prison Life.htm"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n\n\n
\n

\n
\nTales of Prison Life <\/font><\/b><\/p>\n

\n1<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n

\nOn Friday, May 1, 1908, I was sitting in the Bande
\nMataram<\/i> office, when Shrijut Shyamsundar Chakravarty
\nhanded over a telegram from Muzaffarpur. On reading it I
\nlearned of a bomb outrage in which two European ladies had
\nbeen killed. In that day’s issue of the "Empire" I read
\nanother news item that the Police Commissioner had said
\nthat he knew the people involved in the murder and that they
\nwould soon be put under arrest. At that time I had no idea
\nthat I happened to be the main target of suspicion and that
\naccording to the police I was the chief killer, the instigator
\nand secret leader of the young terrorists and revolutionaries.
\nI did not know that that day would mean the end of a chapter
\nof my life, and -that there stretched before me a year’s
\nimprisonment during which period all my human relations
\nwould cease, that for a whole year I would have to live,
\nbeyond the pale of society, like an animal in a cage. And
\nwhen I would re-enter the world of activity it would not be
\nthe old familiar Aurobindo Ghose. Rather it would be a new
\nbeing, a new character, intellect, life, mind, embarking upon
\na new course of action that would come out of the ashram at
\nAlipore. I have spoken of a year’s imprisonment. It would
\nhave been more appropriate to speak of a year’s living in a
\nforest, in an ashram, hermitage. For long I had made great
\nefforts for a direct vision (sakshat darshan)<\/i> of the Lord of my
\nHeart; had entertained the immense hope of knowing the
\nPreserver of the world, the Supreme Person (Purushottam)
\n<\/i>as friend and master. But due to the pull of a thousand <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-261<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nworldly desires, attachment towards numerous activities, the
\ndeep darkness of ignorance I did not succeed in that effort.
\nAt long last the most merciful all-good Lord (Shiv Hari)
\n<\/i>destroyed all these enemies at one stroke and helped me in
\nmy path, pointed to the yogashram.<\/i> Himself staying as guru
\nand companion in my little abode of retirement and spiritual
\ndiscipline. The British prison was that ashram. I have also
\nwatched this strange contradiction in my life that however
\nmuch good my well-intentioned friends might do for me, it is
\nthose who have harmed me\u2014whom shall I call an enemy,
\nsince enemy I have none?\u2014my opponents have helped me
\neven more. They wanted to do me an ill turn, the result was I
\ngot what I wanted. The only result of the wrath of the British
\nGovernment was that I found God. It is not the aim of these
\nessays to provide an intimate journal of my life in the prison.
\nI wish to mention only a few external details, but I have
\nthought it better to mention, at least once, in the beginning,
\nthe main theme of the prison life. Else readers may think
\nthat suffering is the only fact of prison life. I can’t say there
\nwere no inconveniences, but on the whole the time passed
\nquite happily. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nOn Friday night I was sleeping without a worry. At about
\nfive in the morning my sister rushed .to my room in an
\nagitated manner and called me out by name. I got up. The
\nnext moment the small room was filled with armed police-
\nmen; Superintendent Cregan, Mr. dark of 24-Parganas, the
\ncharming and delightful visage of familiar Sriman Benod
\nKumar Gupta, a few Inspectors, red turbans, spies and
\nsearch witnesses. They all came running like heroes, pistols
\nin hand, as though they were besieging, with guns and
\ncannon, a well-armed fort. I heard that a white hero had
\naimed a pistol at my sister’s breast, but I did not see it. I was
\nsitting on my bed, still half-asleep, when Cregan inquired,
\n"Who is Aurobindo Ghose, is that you?" I answered, "Yes. I <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-262<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nam Aurobindo Ghose." Immediately he ordered a police-
\nman to put me under arrest. Then, because of an extremely
\nobjectionable expression used by Cregan, there was a little
\nexchange of words between the two. I asked for the search
\nwarrant, read and signed it. Finding a mention of bombs in
\nthe warrant I understood that the presence of these soldiers
\nand policemen was connected with the Muzaffarpur killing.
\nThe one thing I did not understand was why, even before any
\nbombs or explosives had been discovered in my house, I was
\narrested in the absence of a body warrant. But I did not raise
\nany useless objections. Afterwards, under instructions from
\nCregan, my arms were handcuffed, and a rope tied round my
\nmiddle. An upcountry constable stood behind me holding
\nthe rope end. Just then the police brought in Shrijut Abinash
\nBhattacharya and Shrijut Sailen Bose, hand-cuffed and rope
\nround the midriff. Nearly half an hour after, I do not know at
\nwhose bidding, they removed the rope and the handcuff.
\nFrom Cregan’s words it seemed as if he had entered into the
\nlair of some ferocious animal, as if we were uneducated,
\nwild, lawbreakers, and that it was unnecessary to speak or
\nbehave courteously towards us. But after the sharp exchange
\nthe sahib grew a little milder. Benodbabu tried to explain
\nsomething about me to him. After which Cregan asked me: "It seems you are a B.A. Is it not a matter of shame for an
\neducated person like you to be sleeping on the floor of an
\nunfurnished room and in a house like this?" "I am a poor
\nman, and I live like one," I said. "Then have you worked up
\nall this mischief with the idea of becoming a rich man?"
\nCregan replied in a loud voice. Knowing how impossible it
\nwas to explain the love of motherland, sacrifice or the
\nsublimity of a vow of poverty to this thick-skulled Briton I
\ndid not make the attempt. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nAll the while the search continued. Beginning at five-
\nthirty, it was over at about eleven-thirty. Inside or outside <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-263<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nthe boxes, all the exercise books, letters, papers, scraps,
\npoems, plays, prose, essays, translations, nothing escaped the clutches of the
\nall-engrossing search. Among the witnesses to the search Mr. Rakshit seemed a little put out; later, bemoaning his lot, he informed me that the police had
\ndragged him along, and that he had no idea that he would
\nhave to be a party to such a nefarious activity. He described,
\nmost pathetically, how he had been kidnapped for the
\npurpose. The attitude of the other witness, Samarnath, was
\nof quite another kind, h& discharged his part of the job with
\nconsiderable gusto, like a true loyalist and to the manner
\nborn. Nothing remarkable transpired in the course of the
\nsearch. But I recollect Mr. dark looking long and suspiciously at the sacred earth from Dakshineshwar that had
\nbeen kept in a small cardboard box; he suspected it might be
\nsome new and terribly powerful explosive. In a sense Mr.
\nClark’s suspicions were not ungrounded. In the end the
\ndecision was reached that it was a piece of earth which it was
\nunnecessary to send to the chemical analyst. I did not join in
\nthe search except to open a few boxes. No papers or letters
\nwere shown or read out to me. Mr. Cregan, for his own
\ndelectation, read out loudly a letter from Alakdhari. The
\nfriendly Benod Gupta in his natural and delightful style
\nmarched round the room, raising echoes everywhere and
\nbrought out from the shelf or some other corner papers or
\nletters, and now and then, muttering "Very important, very
\nimportant" handed these over to Cregan. I was never told
\nwhat these important documents might be. Nor was I at all
\ncurious, since I knew it was impossible that there might be in
\nmy house any formula for the manufacture of explosives or
\ndocuments relating to conspiracy. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nAfter rummaging through my room the police led us to the
\nadjoining room. Cregan opened a box belonging to my
\nyoungest aunt, he once or twice glanced at the letters, then <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-264<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nsaying that it was no use carrying these women’s correspondence, left them behind. Then the police mahatmas<\/i> appeared on the ground floor. Cregan had his tea there. I had a
\ncup of cocoa and toast. During this period Cregan tried to
\nargue and convince me about his political views\u2014this
\nmental torture I had to suffer coolly. But may I ask, one
\nknows physical tortures to be part of the traditional police
\nstrategy, but does such inhuman mental torture also fall
\nwithin the purview of its unwritten law ? I hope our highly
\nrespectable, friend-of-the-country Srijut Jogeshchandra
\nGhose will raise this question in the Legislative Assembly. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nAfter searching the rooms on the ground floor and the
\noffice of "Navashakti" the police again came up to the first
\nfloor to open an iron safe belonging to "Navashakti". Uable
\nto open it after a half-hour battle, they decided to remove it
\nbodily to the police station. This time a police officer
\ndiscovered a bicycle, with a railway Sable bearing the mark of
\nKushtia. Immediately they took it as an important proof that
\nthe vehicle belonged to the man who had earlier shot a sahib
\nthere and they gladly took it away with them. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nAt about eleven-thirty we left our house. Outside the gates
\nstood, in a car, my maternal uncle and Srijut Bhupendranath
\nBasu. "On what charges have you been arrested?" asked
\nuncle. "I know nothing," I answered, "they arrested and
\nhandcuffed me soon after getting into my room; they didn’t
\nshow any body warrant." When uncle inquired why the
\nhandcuffs were thought necessary, Benodbabu said, "Sir, it’s
\nnot my fault. Ask Aurobindababu, I told the sahib and had
\nthe handcuffs removed." On Bhupenbabu’s asking about my
\noffence, Mr. Gupta mentioned the I.P.C. article on murder.
\nBhupenbabu was stunned and did not say another word.
\nLater on I came to know that my solicitor, Sri Hirendranath
\nDatta, had expressed a desire to be present on my behalf
\nduring the search. The police had turned down the request.<\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-265 <\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nBenodbabu was entrusted with taking us to the police
\nstation. There he behaved with us in a remarkably decent manner. We had our bath
\nand lunch there and then proceeded towards Lal Bazar. After being made to wait there
\nfor a couple of hours we were removed to Royd Street, in
\nwhich auspicious locality we stayed all evening. It was there
\nthat I first came to know the sly detective Maulvi Samsul-Alam and had the pleasure of entering with him into a
\ncordial relation. Till then the great Maulvi had not acquired
\neither enough influence or energy, he was not yet the chief
\nresearcher in the bomb outrage or functioning as Mr.
\nNorton’s prompter and unfailing aide-memoire.<\/i> Till that time
\nRamsadayababu was acting as the chief protagonist. The
\nMaulvi made me listen to a most entertaining sermon on
\nreligion. That Hinduism and Islam have the same basic
\nprinciples: in the Omkara of the Hindus we have the three
\nsyllables, A, U, M; the first three letters of the Holy Koran
\nare A, L, M. According to philological laws, U is used for L; ergo,<\/i> Hindus and Musulmans have the same mantra<\/i> or
\nsacred syllables. Yet one has to maintain the uniqueness of
\none’s faith, so a Hindu considers it wrong to eat with
\nMusulmans. To be truthful is part of the religious life. The
\nSahibs say Aurobindo Ghose is the leader of the terrorist
\nparty, this is a matter of shame and sorrow for India. But by
\nkeeping to the path of rectitude the situation can yet be
\nsaved. The Maulvi was fully convinced, that distinguished
\npersons, men of high character, like Bipin Pal and Aurobindo Ghose, whatever they might have done, they would
\nopenly confess these. Shrijut Purnachandra Shastri, who
\nhappened to be present there, expressed his doubt in this
\nrespect. But the Maulvi did not give up his views. I was
\ncharmed and delighted with his knowledge, intelligence and
\nreligious fervour. Thinking that it would be impertinent to
\nspeak much I listened politely to his priceless sermon and <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-266<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ncherished it in my heart. But in spite of so much religious
\nenthusiasm the Maulvi did not give up his profession of a
\n‘tec’. Once he said: "You made a great mistake in handing
\nover the garden to your younger brother to manufacture
\nbombs. It was not very intelligent on your part." Under-
\nstanding the implication of his words I smiled a little, and
\nsaid: "Sir, the garden is as much mine as my brother’s.
\nWhere did you learn that I had given it up to him, or given it
\nup to him for the purpose of manufacturing bombs?" A little
\nabashed, the Maulvi answered: "No, no, I was saying in case
\nyou have done it." Then the great souled Maulvi opened a
\nchapter of his life before me, and said, "All the moral or
\neconomic progress that I have made in life can be traced
\nback to a single sufficing moral adage of my father. He would
\nalways say. Never give up an immediate gain. This great
\nword is the sacred formula of my life, all this advancement is
\nowing to the fact that I have always remembered that sage
\nadvice." At the time of this pronunciamento the Maulvi
\nstared at me so closely that it seemed as though I was his
\nmeat and food, which, following the parental advice, he
\nwould be loath to give up. In the evening, the redoubtable
\nRamasadaya Mukhopadhyaya appeared on the scene. He
\nexpressed words of unusual kindness and sympathy, told
\neveryone present to be careful about my food and bed.
\nImmediately afterwards some fellows came and took Sailen-
\ndra and me, through rain and storm, to the lock-up at Lal
\nBazar. This was the only occasion when I met Ramasadaya. I
\ncould see the man was both intelligent and active, but his
\nwords and demeanour, his tone, his gait, all seemed fake and
\nunnatural, as if he was for ever acting on a stage. There are
\nmen like that whose words, bodies, efforts are an embodiment of untruth. They are expert in imposing on immature
\nminds, but those who know men and their ways, find them
\nout at once. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-267<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n     At Lal Bazar on the ground floor in a spacious room we
\ntwo were kept together. Some snacks were served. After a
\nwhile two Englishmen entered the room, later I was told that
\none of them was the Police Commissioner, Mr. Halliday
\nhimself. Finding us both together Halliday was wrathful with
\nthe sergeant, and pointing towards me he said, "Take care
\nthat nobody stays or speaks with this man." Sailen was at
\nonce removed and locked up in another room. When others
\nhad left, Halliday asked me: "Aren’t you ashamed for being
\ninvolved in this cowardly, dastardly activity?" "What right
\nhave you to assume that I was involved?" To this Halliday
\nreplied: "I am not assuming, I know everything." At this I
\nsaid: "What you know or do not know is your concern. I
\nwholly deny having any connection with these murderous <\/font><\/p>\n

\nacts." <\/font><\/p>\n

\nThat night I had other visitors, all members of the police
\nforce. There was a mystery behind the visit, which till now I
\nhave failed to fathom. A month and a half before my arrest
\nan unknown gentleman came to see me. He said: "Sir, we
\nhave not met, but since I have great respect for you I have
\ncome to warn you of an impending danger, I would also like
\nto know if you are familiar with anyone at Konnagar. Did
\nyou ever visit the place, and do you have a house there?"
\n"No, I do not have any house there," I said. "But I have
\nbeen there once and am known to some people there." "I
\nwill say nothing more," said the stranger, "but now on you
\nshould not meet anyone from there. Some wicked people are
\nconspiring against you and your brother, Barindra. Soon
\nthey will put you into trouble. Don’t ask me anything more."
\nI told him: "Gentleman, I am unable to understand how this
\nincomplete information will help me, but since you came
\nwith friendly intentions, thank you for coming. I do not wish
\nto know anything more. I have complete faith in God, He
\nwill always protect me, and it is for me needless to make any <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-268<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nattempt or be careful." I heard nothing about this afterward.
\nThat this stranger and well-wisher did not imagine things, I
\nhad proof the same night. An inspector and a few police
\nofficers came to pump out my connection with Konnagar. "Is
\nyour original home at Konnagar?" they asked. "Did you
\never visit the place? When? And Why? Has Barindra any
\nproperties there?"\u2014and other questions. I answered these
\nquestions in order to get at the root of these. But the attempt
\nwas not a success, but from the questions as well as the
\nmanner of the police inquiry it appeared that they had come
\nby some information which they were trying to verify. I
\nguessed just as in the Tai-Maharaj case there had been an
\nattempt to prove Tilak as a hypocrite, liar, cheat and tyrant
\nin which the Bombay Government had joined hands and wasted public
\nmoney,\u2014similarly there were people interested in putting me into trouble. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nThe whole of Sunday was passed in the lock-up. There was
\na staircase in front of my room. In the morning I found a few
\nyoung lads coming down the stairs. Their faces were unfamiliar, but I guessed that they too had been arrested in the
\nsame case. Later I came to know that these were the lads
\nfrom the Manicktola Gardens. A month after in the jail I
\ncame to know them. A little later I too was taken downstairs
\nfor a wash\u2014since there was no arrangement for a bath, I
\nwent without it. For lunch I grabbed, with some effort, a few
\nmorsels of pulse and boiled rice, the effort proved too much
\nand had to be given up. In the afternoon we had fried rice.
\nFor three days this was our diet. But I must also add that on
\nMonday the sergeant, of himself, gave me tea and toast. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nLater I came to learn that my lawyer had sought permission from the Commissioner to have my food sent from
\nhome, but to this, Mr. Halliday did not agree. I also heard
\nthat the accused were forbidden to consult their lawyer or
\nattorney. I don’t know if this restriction is valid or not. It is <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-269<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ntrue that though lawyer’s advice would have been of help to
\nme, I didn’t quite need it; it has however, harmed some
\nothers involved in the case. On Monday we were presented
\nbefore the Commissioner. Abinash and Sailen were with me.
\nWe were taken in different batches. Thanks to our good
\n.deeds in our past incarnation we three had been arrested
\nearlier, and, since we had already some experience of legal
\nquibblings, all of us refused to make any declarations before the Commissioner. Next day we were taken to the court of
\n, the magistrate, Mr. Thornhill. It was then that I met for the
\nfirst time Shrijut Kumar Krishna Datta, Mr. Manuel, and
\n‘ one of my relations. Mr. Manuel asked me, "According to
\n-the police a good deal of suspicious literature has .been
\n, recovered from your house. Were these papers or letters
\nreally there?" "I can say without a shadow of doubt," I told
\nhim, "that there were no such things, it is quite impossible."
\nOf course then I did not know of the "sweets letter" or of the
\n"scribblings." I told my relative: "Tell the people at home
\nnot to^fear or worry, my innocence will be fully vindicated."
\nFrom that period I had a firm belief that it would be so. In
\nthe beginning, during solitary imprisonment, the mind was a
\nlittle uneasy. But after three days of prayer and meditation
\nan unshakable peace and faith again overwhelmed the being.
\nFrom Mr. Thornhill’s court we were taken in a carriage to
\nAlipore. The group included Nirapada, Dindayal, Hemchandra Das, and others. Of these I knew Hemchandra Das, once
\nI put up at his place in Midnapore. Who could have known
\nthen that I would meet him like this, as a prisoner on the way
\nto the jail? We were detained for a little while at the Alipore
\nmagistrate’s court, but we were not presented before the
\nmagistrate; they went in only to get an order signed. We
\nagain got into the carriage, when a gentleman came near me
\nand said, "I have heard that they are planning solitary
\nconfinement for you and orders are being passed to that <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-270<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\neffect. Probably they will not allow any one to see or meet
\nyou. If you wish to convey any information to your people, I
\nshall do that." I thanked him, but since what I wished to
\nconvey I had already done through my relative, I did not tell
\nhim anything more. I am mentioning this fact as an example
\nof my countrymen’s sympathy and unsought kindness to-
\nwards me. Thereafter from the court we went to the jail, and
\nwere surrendered to its officers. Before entering the jail
\nprecincts we were given a bath, put into prison uniform,
\nwhile our clothes, shirts, dhotis and kurtas<\/i> were taken away
\nfor laundry. The bath, after four days, was a heavenly bliss.
\nAfter that they took us to our respective cells. I went into
\nmine and the doors were closed as soon as I got in. My prison
\nlife at Alipore began on May 5. Next year, on May 6, I was
\nreleased. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nII<\/b> <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nMy solitary cell was nine feet long and five or six feet in
\nwidth; it had no windows, in front stood strong iron bars, this
\ncage was my appointed abode. Outside was a small court-
\nyard, with stony grounds, a high brick wall with a small
\nwooden door. On top of that door, at eye level, there was a
\nsmall hole or opening. After the door had been bolted the
\nsentry, from time to time, peeped through it to find out what
\nthe convict was doing. But my courtyard door remained
\nopen for most of the time. There were six contiguous rooms
\nlike that, in prison parlance these were known as the ‘six decrees’. ‘Decrees’
\nstood for rooms for special punishment\u2014those who are condemned to solitary imprisonment
\nby the orders of either the judge or the jail superintendent
\nhave to stay in these minicaves. Even in such solitary
\nconfinement there is the rule of caste or hierarchy. Those who are heavily
\npunished have their courtyard doors permanently closed; deprived of contacts with the rest of the <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-271<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nhuman world their only point of relation with the outside
\nworld is restricted to the vigilant eyes of the sentry and the
\nfellow-convict who brings his food twice a day. Since
\nHemchandra Das was looked upon as being a greater terror
\nfor the criminal investigation department than I, he had been
\ngiven this strict regimen. But in the solitary cell too there are
\nrefinements\u2014handcuffs and iron rings round one’s hand and
\nfoot. This highest punishment is meted out not only for
\ndisturbing the peace of the prison or playing rough but also if
\none is found frequently slack in prison labour. To harass
\nthose convicted in cases of solitary confinement is against the
\nspirit of law, but the Swadeshi or ‘Bande Mataram’ convicts
\nwere beyond the pale and according as the police desired
\nbenign arrangements were made for these. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nSuch was the place where we were lodged. As for fittings
\nour generous authorities had left nothing to be desired so far
\nas our hospitable reception was concerned. One plate and
\nbowl used to adorn the courtyard. Properly washed and
\ncleansed my self-sufficing plate and bowl shone like silver,
\n; was the solace of my life. In its impeccable, glowing radiance
\nin the ‘heavenly kingdom’ in that symbol of immaculate
\nBritish imperialism, I used to enjoy the pure bliss of loyalty
\nto the Crown, Unfortunately the plate too shared in the bliss,
\nand if one pressed one’s fingers a little hard on its surface it
\nwould start flying in a circle, like the whirling dervishes of
\nArabia. And then one had to use one hand for eating while
\nthe other held the plate in position. Else, while whirling, it
\nwould attempt to slip away with the incomparable grub
\nprovided by the prison authorities. But more dear and useful
\nthan the plate was the bowl. Among inert objects it was like
\nthe British civilian. Just as the civilian, ipso facto,<\/i> is fit and
\nable to undertake any administrative duty, be it as judge,
\nmagistrate, police, revenue officer, chairman of municipality, professor, preacher, whatever you ask him to do he <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-272<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ncan become at your merest saying,\u2014just as for him to be an
\ninvestigator, complainant, police magistrate, even at times to
\nbe the counsel for defence, all these roles hold a friendly
\nconcourse in the same hospitable body. my dear bowl was
\nequally multipurpose. The bowl was free from all caste
\nrestrictions, beyond discrimination, in the prison cell it
\nhelped in the act of ablution, later with the same bowl I
\ngargled, bathed, a little later when I had to take my food,
\nlentil soup or vegetable was poured into the same container,
\nI drank water out of it and washed my mouth. Such an
\nall\u2014purpose priceless object can be had only in a British
\nprison. Serving all my worldly needs the bowl became an aid
\nin my spiritual discipline too. Where else could I find such an
\naid and preceptor to get rid of the sense of disgust ? After the
\nfirst spell of solitary imprisonment was over, when we are
\nallowed to stay together my civilian’s rights were bifurcated,
\nand the authorities arranged for another receptacle for the i,
\nprivy. But for one month I acquired an unsought lesson in
\ncontrolling my disgust. The entire procedure for defecation
\nseems to have been oriented towards the art of self-control.
\nSolitary imprisonment, it has been said, must be counted
\namong a special form of punishment and its guiding principle
\nthe avoidance of human company and the open sky. To arrange this ablution in the open or outside would mean a a
\nviolation of the principle, hence two baskets, with tar
\ncoating, would be kept in the room itself. The sweeper,
\nmehtar,<\/i> would clean it up in the morning and afternoons. In case of
\nintense agitation and heart-warming speeches from 
\nour side the cleaning would be done at other times too. But if
\none went to the privy at odd hours as penance one had to put ‘ i
\nup with the noxious and fetid smell. In the second chapter of
\nour solitary confinement there were some reforms in this
\nrespect, but British reforms keep the old principles intact
\nwhile making minor changes in administration. Needless to <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-273<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nsay, because of all this arrangement, in a small room, one
\nhad throughout to undergo considerable inconvenience,
\nespecially at meal times and during night. Attached bath-
\nrooms are, I know, often times a part of western culture, but
\nto have in a small cell a bedroom, dining room and w.c.
\nrolled into one\u2014that is what is called too much of a good
\nthing! We Indians are full of regrettable customs, it is painful
\nfor us to be so highly civilised. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nAmong household utilities there were also a small bucket,
\na tin water container and two prison blankets. The small
\nbucket would be kept in the courtyard, where I used to have
\nmy bath. In the beginning I did not suffer from water
\nscarcity, though that happened later on. At first the convict
\nin the neighbouring cowshed would supply water as and
\nwhen I wanted it, hence during the bathing recess amidst the
\nausterities of prison life I enjoyed every day a few moments
\nof the householder’s luxury and love of pleasure. The other
\nconvicts were not so fortunate, the same tub or pail did for
\nthe w.c., cleaning of utensils and bath. As under trial prisoners this extraordinary luxury was allowed to them, the
\nconvicts had to take their bath in a bowlful or two of water.
\nAccording to the British the love of God and physical well-
\nbeing are almost equal and rare virtues, whether the prison
\nregulations were made in order to prove the point of such a
\nproverb or to prevent the unwilling austerity of the convicts
\nspoilt by excessive bathing facilities, it was not easy to
\ndecide. This liberality of the authorities was made light of by
\nthe convicts as "crow bathing". Men are by nature discontented. The arrangements for drinking water were even
\nbetter than bathing facilities. It was then hot summer, in my
\nlittle room the wind was almost forbidden to enter. But the
\nfierce and blazing sunlight of May had free access to it. The
\nentire room would burn like a hot oven. While being locked
\nthus the only way to lessen one’s irresistible thirst was the <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-274<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ntepid water in the small tin enclosure. I would drink that
\nwater often and often, but this would not quench the thirst,
\nrather there would be heavy sweating and soon after the
\nthirst would be renewed. But one or two had earthen pots
\nplaced in their courtyard, for which, remembering the austerities of a past
\nincarnation, they would count themselves lucky. This compelled even the strongest believers in
\npersonal effort to admit the role of fate; some had cold
\nwater, some remained thirsty for ever, it was as the stars
\ndecreed. But in their distribution of tin-cans or water-pots,
\nthe authorities acted with complete impartiality. Whether I
\nwas pleased or not with such erratic arrangements the
\ngenerous jail doctor found my water trouble unbearable. He
\nmade efforts to get an earthen pot for my use, but since the
\ndistribution was not in his hands he did not succeed for long,
\nat last at his bidding the head sweeper managed to discover
\nan earthen pot from somewhere. Before that in course of my
\nlong battle with thirst I had achieved a thirst-free state. In
\nthis blazing room two prison blankets served for my bed.
\nThere was no pillow, I would spread one of these as mattress
\nand fold the other as a pillow, and I slept like that. When the
\nheat became unbearable I would roll on the ground and
\nenjoy it. Then did I know the joy of the cool touch of Mother
\nEarth. But the floor’s contact in the prison was not always
\npleasing, it prevented the coming of sleep and so I had to
\ntake recourse to the blanket. The days on which it rained
\nwere particularly delightful. But there was this difficulty that
\nduring rain and thunder, thanks to the danse macabre
\n(tandava nritya) of<\/i> the strong wind, full of dust, leaf and
\ngrass, a small-scale flood would take place inside my little
\nroom. After which there was no alternative but to rush to a
\ncorner with a wet blanket. Even after this game of nature
\nwas over, till the earth dried one had to seek refuge in
\nreflection leaving aside all hope of sleep. The only dry areas <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-275<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nwere near the w.c., but one did not feel like placing the
\nblankets near that area. But in spite of such difficulties on
\nwindy days a lot of air also blew in and since that took away
\nthe furnace-like heat of the room I welcomed the storm and
\nthe shower. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nThis description of the Alipore government hotel which I
\n.have given here, and will give still more later, is not for the; <\/font><\/p>\n

\npurpose of advertising my own hardship; it is only to show; <\/font><\/p>\n

\nwhat strange arrangements are made for undertrial prisoners
\n <\/i>in the civilised British Raj, what prolonged agony for the’
\ninnocent. The causes of hardship that I have described were;]
\nno doubt there, but since my faith in divine mercy was strong I had to suffer
\nonly for the first few days; thereafter\u2014by
\nwhat means I shall mention later \u2014the mind had transcended these sufferings and grown incapable of feeling any
\nhardship. That is why when I recollect my prison life instead
\nof anger or sorrow I feel like laughing. When first of all I had
\nto go into my cage dressed in strange prison uniform, and
\nnotice the arrangements for our stay, this is what I felt. And
\nI laughed within myself. Having studied the history of the
\nEnglish people and their recent doings I had already found
\nout their strange and mysterious character. So I was not at all
\nastonished or unhappy at their behaviour towards me.
\nNormally this kind of behaviour towards us would be for
\nthem extremely illiberal and blameworthy. We all came from
\ngentlemanly stock, many were scions of landlords, some were, in terms of their
\nfamily, education, quality and character, the equals of the highest classes in England. The
\ncharge on which we had been arrested, that too was not
\nordinary murder, theft or dacoity; it was an attempt at
\ninsurrection to liberate the country from foreign rulers or
\nconspiracy towards armed conflict. The main cause of
\ndetention was suspicion on the part of the police, though
\neven there in many instances the proof of guilt was wholly <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-276<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nwanting. In such cases to be herded together like ordinary
\nthieves and dacoits\u2014and not even as thieves and dacoits, to
\nkeep them like animals in a cage, to give them food unfit for
\nanimals, to make them endure water scarcity, thirst and
\nhunger, sun, rain and cold, all these do not enhance the glory
\nof the British race and its imperial officers. This is, however, a national
\ndefect of their character. The English are possessed of the qualities of the Kshatriya, but in dealing with
\nenemies or opponents they are cent per cent businesslike.
\nBut, at the time, I was not annoyed at this. On the conrary, I
\nhad felt a little happy that no discrimination had been made
\nbetween the common uneducated masses and myself, more-
\nover, this arrangement added fuel to the flame of my
\nadoration of the Mother {matribhakti).<\/i> I took it as a
\nmarvellous means and favourable condition for learning
\nyoga and rising above conflicts. I was one of the extremists,
\nin whose view democracy and equality between the rich and
\nthe poor formed a chief ingredient of nationalism. I remembered that, thinking it our duty to turn the theory into
\npractice, we had travelled together, on our way to Surat, in
\nthe same third class, in the camp the leaders instead of
\nmaking separate arrangements would sleep in the same room
\nalong with the others. Rich, poor, Brahmins, businessmen,
\nShudra, Bengali, Maratha, Punjabi, Gujarati, we all stayed,
\nslept, ate together in a wonderful feeling of brotherhood. We slept on the
\nground, ate the normal fare, made of rice-pulse curd, in every way it was superlatively swadesi.<\/i> The "foreign-
\nreturned" from Bombay and Calcutta and the Brahmin-born
\nMadrassi with his tilak<\/i> (head-mark) had become one body.
\nDuring my stay in the Alipore Jail I ate, lived, went through
\nthe same hardship and enjoyed the same privileges with the
\nother convicts, my fellow nationals, the peasants, iron-
\nmonger, potter, the doms<\/i> and the bagdis,<\/i> and I could learn
\nthat the Lord who dwells in every body, this socialism and <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-277<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nunity, this nation-wide brotherhood had put its stamp on my
\nlife’s dedication (jivan brata).<\/i> The day when before the
\nsacred altar of the world-Mother in the form of the Mother-
\nland, all the orders of the country will stand with proud heads as brothers and
\nof the same mind, the loving-kindness of my fellow convicts and prisoners as
\nwell as the impartiality 
\nof the British administrators, during the imprisonment I
\ncould feel the coming of that happy day and many a time it
\nbrought such delight and thrill. The other day I noticed that
\nthe Indian Social Reformer,<\/i> from Poona, has ironically
\ncommented on one of my simple easy-to-understand state-
\nments by remarking: "We find an excess of God wardness in
\nthe prison!" Alas for the pride and littleness of men, seeking
\nafter renown, of little learning, proud of their little virtues!
\nThe manifestation of God, should it not be in prison, in huts,
\nashrams, in the heart of the poor, but rather in the temples of
\nluxury of the rich or the bed of repose of pleasure-seeking-
\nselfish worldly folk? God does not look for learning, honour,
\nleadership, popular acclaim, outward ease and sophistication. To the poor He reveals Himself in the form of the
\nCompassionate Mother. He who sees the Lord in all men, in
\nall nations, in his own land, in the miserable, the poor, the
\nfallen and the sinner and offers his life in the service of the
\nLord, the Lord comes to such hearts. So it is that in a fallen
\nnation ready to rise, in the solitary prison of the servant of
\nthe nation the nearness of God grows. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nAfter the jailor had seen to the blankets and the plates and
\nbowl .and left, I began to watch, sitting on the blanket, the
\nscene before me. This solitary confinement seemed to me
\nmuch better than the lock-up at Lal Bazar. There the silence
\nof the commodious hall with an opportunity to extend its
\nhuge body, seems to deepen the silence. Here the walls of
\nthe room seemed to come closer, eager to embrace one, like
\nthe all-pervading Brahman. There one cannot even look at <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nPage-278<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nthe sky through the high windows of the second storey room,
\nit becomes hard to imagine that there are in this world trees
\nand plants, men, animals, birds and houses. Here, since the
\ndoor to the courtyard remains open, by sitting near the bars
\none could see the open spaces and the movement of the
\nprisoners. Alongside the courtyard wall stood a tree, its
\ngreen foliage a sight for sore eyes. The sentry that used to
\nparade before the six ‘six decree’ rooms, his face and
\nfootsteps often appeared dear like the welcome steps of a
\nfriend. The prisoners in the neighbouring cowshed would
\ntake out in front of the room the cows for grazing. Both cow
\nand cowherd were daily and delightful sights. The solitary
\nconfinement at Alipore was a unique lesson in love. Before
\ncoming here even in society my affections were confined to a
\nrather narrow circle, and the closed emotions would rarely
\ninclude birds and animals. I remember a poem by Rabibabu
\nin which is described, beautifully, a village boy’s deep love
\nfor a buffalo. I did not at all understand it when I read it first,
\nI had felt a note of exaggeration and artificiality in that
\ndescription. Had I read that poem now, I would have seen it
\nwith other eyes. At Alipore I could feel how deep could be
\nthe love of man for all created things, how thrilled a man
\ncould be on seeing a cow, a bird,, even an ant. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nThe first day in prison passed off peacefully. It was all so
\nnew that it was almost gay. Comparing it with the Lal Bazar
\nlock-up I felt happy with my present circumstances, and
\nsince I had faith in God the loneliness did not weigh heavily
\non me. Even the strange spectacle of prison diet failed to
\ndisturb my attitude. Coarse rice, even that spiced with husk,
\npebbles, insects, hair, dirt and such other stuff\u2014the tasteless
\nlentil soup was heavily watered, among vegetables and
\ngreens mixed with grass and leaves. I never knew before that
\nfood could be so tasteless and without any nutritive value.
\nLooking at its melancholy black visage I was struck with fear, <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-279<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nafter two mouthfuls with a respectful salaam<\/i> I took leave of
\nit. All prisoners receive the same diet, and once a course gets
\ngoing it goes on for ever. Then it was the Reign of Herbs.
\nDays, fortnights and months pass by, but the same herbs, or
\nShak,<\/i> lentils and rice went on unchanged. What to speak of
\nchanging the menu, the preparation was not changed a jot or
\ntittle, it was the same immutable, eternal from beginning to
\nend, a stable, unique thing-in-itself. Within two evenings it
\nwas calculated to impress the prisoner with the fragility of
\nthis world of may a.<\/i> But even here I was luckier than the
\nother prisoners because of the doctor’s kindness. He had
\narranged supply of milk from the hospital, thanks to which I
\nhad been spared on certain days from the vision of Shak.<\/i> <\/font><\/p>\n

\nThat .night I went to bed early, but it was no part of the
\nprison regulations to be allowed to enjoy undisturbed sleep,
\nsince this might encourage a love of luxury among the
\nprisoners. Hence there is a rule that every time sentries are
\nchanged, the prisoner has to be noisily disturbed and till he
\nresponds to their cries there is no respite. Among those who
\nwere engaged in this kind of patrolling the ‘six decree’ cells
\nthere were a few who would be no doubt remiss in their duty
\nin this respect\u2014among the police there was as a rule more of
\nkindness and sympathy than strict sense of responsibility\u2014
\nthis was especially so with the Hindustani policemen. Some
\nof course remained obstinate. Waking us up at odd hours
\nthey would inquire about our well-being thus: "How do you
\ndo, Sir?" This untimely humour was not always pleasant or
\nwelcome, but I could see that those who were behaving like
\nthis were but carrying out orders. For a few days in spite of
\nthe annoyance I put up with this. In the end to preserve my
\nsleep I had to scold them. After repeating this process for a
\nfew times I noticed that this custom of seeking news about
\nmy well-being stopped of itself. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nNext morning at four-fifteen the prison bell rang, this was-
\nthe first bell to wake up the prisoners. There is a bell again <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-280<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nafter sometime, when the prisoners have to come out in file,
\nafter washing they have to swallow the prison gruel (lufsi)
\n<\/i>before starting the days’s work. Knowing that it was impossible to sleep with the bells ringing every now and then, I also
\ngot up. The bars were removed at five, and after washing I
\nsat inside the room once again. A little later lufsi<\/i> was served
\nat my door step, that day I did not take it but had only a
\nvision of what it looked like. It was after a few days that I had
\nthe first taste of the ‘great dish’. Lufsi,<\/i> boiled rice, along with
\nwater, is the prisoner’s little breakfast. A trinity, it takes
\nthree forms. On the first day it was Lufsi<\/i> in its Wisdom
\naspect, unmixed original element, pure, white, Shiva.<\/i> On the
\nsecond, it was the Hiranyagarbha aspect, boiled along with
\nlentils, called kedgeree, yellowish, a medley. On the third
\nday lufsi<\/i> appeared in its aspect of Virat, a little mixed with
\njaggery, grey, slightly fit for human consumption. I had
\nthought the Wisdom and the Hiranyagarbha aspects to be
\nbeyond the capacity of average humanity and therefore
\nmade no efforts in that direction, but once in a while I had
\nforced some of the Virat stuff within my system and
\nmarvelled, in delightful muse, about the many-splendoured
\nvirtues of British rule and the high level of western humanitarianism. It should be added that lufsi<\/i> was the only nutritious diet for the Bengali prisoners, the rest were without any
\nfood value. But what of that? It had a taste, and one could
\neat this only out of sheer hunger, even then, one had to force
\nand argue with oneself to be able to consume that stuff. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nThat day I took my bath at half past eleven. For the first
\nfour or five days I had to keep wearing the clothes in which I
\nhad come from home. At the time of bathing the old
\nprisoner-warder from the cowshed, who had been appointed
\nto look after me, managed to procure a piece of endi,<\/i> a yard <\/font><\/p>\n

\n    ‘ A kind of coarse silk. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-281<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nand half long, and till my only clothes did not dry I had to
\nkeep wearing this. I did not have to wash my clothes or
\ndishes, a prisoner in the cowshed would do that for me.
\nLunch was at eleven. To avoid the neighbourhood of the
\nbasket and braving the summer heat I would often eat in the
\ncourtyard. The sentries did not object to this. The evening
\nmeal would be between five and five-thirty. Then on the
\ndoor was not permitted to be opened. At seven rang the
\nevening bell. The chief supervisor gathered the prisoner-
\nwarders together and loudly called out the names of the
\ninmates, after which they would return to their respective
\nposts. The tired prisoner then takes the refuge of sleep and in
\nthat has his only pleasure. It is the time when the weak of
\nheart weeps over his misfortune or in anticipation of the
\nhardships of prison life. The lover of God feels the nearness
\nof his deity, and has the joy of his prayer or meditation in the
\nsilent night. Then to these three thousand creatures who
\ncame from God, victims off a miserable social system, the
\nhuge instrument of torture, the Alipore Jail, is lost in a vast
\nsilence. <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nIII <\/font><\/b><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nI would rarely meet the co-accused. They had been kept
\nelsewhere. Behind the "six decrees" there were two rows of
\nceils, forty-four in all, the reason why it was known as forty-
\nfour decrees. Most of the accused were placed in one of these
\nlines. Confined to the cells as they were, they did not suffer
\nfrom solitary imprisonment, since there were three in each
\nroom. On the other side of the prison there was another
\ndecree, with a few large rooms, these could accommodate
\neven up to twelve persons. Those who were fortunate
\nenough to be placed in this decree lived more happily. Many
\nwere confined to a room in this decree, with leisure to talk
\nday and night and spend their time happily in human <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-282<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ncompanionship. But there was one who was deprived of this
\npleasure. This was Hemchandra Das. I do not know why the
\nauthorities were especially afraid or angry with him, out of so
\nmany people he had been singled out for solitary confine-
\nment. Hemchandra himself believed that since, in spite of
\nmuch effort, the police had failed to make him admit his guilt
\nexplained their wrath. He was confined to a small room in
\nthe decree of which even the door would be closed from
\noutside. I have said that this was the extreme form of this
\ntype of punishment. From time to time the police would
\nbring forward witnesses of different kind, colour and shape
\nand enact the farce of an identification parade. On these
\noccasions we would be made to line up, a long row, in front
\nof the office. The prison authorities would mix up those
\naccused on other charges along with us. But this was only in
\nname. For among these other accused there was none that
\nwas either educated or from gentlemanly stock, and when we
\nstood by their side there was such obvious disparity between
\nthe two types of accused, on the one hand the sharp,
\nintelligent features of those accused in the bomb conspiracy,
\non the other hand, the soiled dress and lustreless visage of
\nthe average accused, that if looking at them one could not
\nmake out the difference, that could only mean that one was a
\nbig fool, bereft of the lowest human intelligence. The
\nprisoners were not however averse to the identification
\nparade. It brought a kind of variety in prison life and
\nprovided a chance to exchange a-few words. After our arrest
\nit was during one of the parades that I could first meet my
\nbrother, Barindra, though we did not speak at that time. It
\nwas Narendranath Goswami who would often stand by my
\nside, so I had a little more exchange with him. Extremely
\nhandsome, tall, strong, plump, but his eyes spoke of evil
\npropensities, nor did his words reveal any signs of intelligence. In this respect he was quite different from the other <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-283<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nyoung people. On their lips were often expressed high and
\npure ideas and their speech showed keen intelligence, a love
\nof knowledge and noble selfless aspirations. For though
\nGossain’s words were those of a fool and a light-hearted
\nperson, they expressed vigour and boldness. At that time he
\nfully believed that he would be acquitted. He would say: "My father is an expert in litigations, the police can never
\nbeat him. My evidence too will not go against me, for it will
\nbe proved that the police had got those statements by
\ntorturing me." I asked him, "You had been with the police.
\nWhere are your witnesses?" Gossain answered unabashed: <\/font><\/p>\n

\n"My father has conducted hundreds of cases, he knows all
\nthis very well. There will be <\/b> no lack of witnesses." Of such
\nstuff are approvers made. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nEarlier we have referred to many of the needless sufferings
\nand difficulties of the accused, but it should also be added
\nthat these were all part of prison administration; the sufferings were not due to any one’s personal cruelty or lack of
\nhuman qualities. Indeed, the persons on whom rested the
\nadministration of the Alipore Jail, they were all of them
\nexceedingly polite, kindly and conscientious. If in any prison
\nthe prisoner’s suffering has been lessened, the inhuman
\nbarbarity of the western prison lightened through kindness
\nand conscientiousness, then that good out of evil has hap-
\npened in the Alipore Jail under Mr. Emerson. This has
\nhappened due to two main reasons, the extraordinary
\nqualities of its Superidntendent, Mr. Emerson, and the
\nassistant doctor, Baidyanath Chatterji. One of them was an
\nembodiment of Europe’s nearly vanished Christian ideals,
\nthe other was a personification of the charity and philanthropy that form the essence of Hinduism. Men like Mr.
\nEmerson do not come to this country often, they are getting
\nrarer even in the West. In him could be found all the virtues
\nof a Christian gentleman. Peace-loving, just, incomparably <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-284<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ngenerous, full of rectitude, simple, straight and disciplined
\neven towards inferiors, he was by nature incapable of
\nanything but polite conduct. Among his short-comings were
\nlack of energy and administrative efficiency, he would leave
\nall the responsibility on the jailor, himself remaining a roi
\nfaineant.<\/i> I do not think this caused much harm. The jailor,
\nJogendrababu, was a capable and efficient person, in spite of
\nbeing seriously handicapped by diabetes he would himself
\nlook after all the activities and since he was familiar with the
\nboss’s nature, he would respect justice and the absence of
\ncruelty in the administration. But he was not a great soul like
\nEmerson, but only a minor Bengali officer, he knew how to
\nkeep the Sahib in humour, would do his job efficiently and
\ndutifully, treat others quietly and with natural politeness.
\nOther than these I did not observe in him any other special
\nquality. He had a great weakness for the service. More so
\nsince it was then the month of May and the time for his
\npension had drawn near, he was looking forward to well-
\nearned rest from January next. The sudden appearance of
\nthe accused in the Alipore Bomb Conspiracy had caused in
\nour jailor much fear and cogitation. There was no knowing
\nwhat these violent energetic Bengali boys might be up to one
\nof these days, the thought gave him no rest. He would say,
\nthere was only an inch and half left for him to climb to the
\ntop of the palm tree. But he had succeeded in neogtiating
\nonly half of that distance. Towards the end of August Mr.
\nBuchanan was pleased with his prison inspection. The jailor
\nsaid gleefully, "This is Sahib’s last visit during my term of
\noffice, there is nothing to worry about the pension now."
\nAlas, for human blindness! The poet has truly said, God has
\ngiven two great aids to the suffering race of man. First, he
\nhas covered the future with darkness; secondly, as his sole
\nsupport and consolation, he has endowed him with blind
\nhope. Within five days of this statement by the jailor Naren <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-285<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nGossain fell a victim at the hands of Kanai, and Buchanan’s visits to the prison grew increasingly frequent. The result was
\nthat Jogenbabu lost his job before time, and, because of the
\ncombined attack of sorrow and disease, he soon breathed his
\nlast. If instead of delegating all the work to such a subordinate, Emerson had looked after the administration, there
\nwould have been the possibility of greater improvement and
\nreform during his regime. The little that he himself looked
\nafter he no doubt did that properly, it was due to his
\ncharacter that the prison had become a place only for severe
\npunishment and not turned into a veritable hell. Even after
\nhe had been transferred, the effect of his goodness did not
\nwholly disappear. Even now his sucessors have been obliged
\nto keep sixty per cent of his good measures intact. <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nIV<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nJust as in the other jail departments Jogenbabu, a Bengali,
\nwas the chief, similarly in the hospital, the Bengali doctor,
\nBaidyanathbabu, was all-in-all. His superior officer. Doctor
\nDaly, though not as charitable as Mr. Emerson, was out and
\nout a gentleman and a most judicious person. He had high
\npraise for the quiet demeanour, cheerfulness and obedience
\nof the boys, and loved to exchange pleasantries with younger
\npeople and discuss with the other accused problems of
\nreligion, politics and philosophy. The doctor was of Irish
\nstock and he inherited many of the qualities of that liberal
\nand sentimental race. There was no meanness or duplicity
\nabout him, once in a while when angry he might use a rough
\nword or behave harshly, but on the whole he loved to help
\npeople. He was familiar with the trickeries and the got-up
\ndiseases resorted to by the prisoners, but sometimes, suspecting trickery, he would neglect even genuine sufferers.
\nBut once sure of the disease he would prescribe with great <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-286<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ncare and kindness. Once I had a little temperature. It was
\nthen the rainy season, in the hospital’s many-windowed huge
\nverandahs the moisture-laden winds played about freely, and
\nyet I was unwilling either to go to the hospital or take
\nmedicine. My views on illness and cure had undergone
\nchange and I did not have much faith in medicines. Unless
\nthe disease was severe, nature herself would cure it in her
\nown way, such was my belief. The harm done by the humid
\nair, by controlling that yogically I wished to verify and prove
\nto the logical mind the success of my yogic training and
\nmethods. But the doctor was extremely anxious on my
\naccount, he explained to me with much eagerness the need to
\ngo to the hospital. And when I had gone there he kept me
\nwith empressement<\/i> and saw that I had meals such as I might
\nget at home. Fearing that by staying in the prison-wards my
\nhealth might suffer during the rains he desired that I should-
\nbe comfortably lodged in the hospital. But I refused to stay
\nlonger in the hospital and insisted on going back to the ward.
\nHe was not equally considerate to everybody; especially
\nthose who were strong and healthy, he was afraid of keeping
\nsuch people in the hospital even when they were sick. He had
\na false notion that if ever any incident took place it would be
\nbecause of these strong and restless lads. What happened in
\nthe end was its exact opposite, the incident in the hospital
\nwas due to the ailing, emaciated Satyendranath Bose and the
\nsick, quiet-natured Kanaiial, a man of few words. Though
\nDr. Daly had his qualities, most of his good deeds were
\ninspired and set into motion by Baidyanathbabu. I had never
\nseen such a sympathetic soul before, nor do I expect to see it
\nafter, it was as if he had been born to help and do good to
\nothers. Whenever he heard of a case of suffering to try to
\nlessen it had become for him almost a natural and inevitable
\nact. To the residents of this abode of misery, full of suffering,
\nit was as if he would distribute the carefully preserved <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-287<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nheavenly waters to the creatures of hell. The best
\nway to remove any want, injustice or needless suffering was to reach a report of
\nit to the doctor’s ears. If its removal lay within his powers he would never
\nrest without doing it. Baidyanathbabu harbo ured in his heart a deep love of the motherland,
\nbut as a government servant he was unable to express that
\nemotion. His only failing was his excessive sympathy.
\nThough in a prison administrator this may be looked upon as
\na defect, in terms of higher ethics this may be described as
\nthe finest expression of one’s humanity and the quality most
\nbeloved of God. He did not discriminate between the
\nordinary prisoners and the ‘Bandemataram’ convicts; who-
\never was sick, or ailing, he kept them in the hospital with the
\nsame care and would be unwilling to let them go till they had
\nwholly come round. This fault of his was the real reason for
\nhis loss of job. After the killing of Gossain the authorities
\nsuspected this attitude of his and wrongfully dismissed him. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nThere is a special need to speak of the kindness and human
\nconduct of these officers. The prison arrangements made for
\nour detention I have been obliged to describe earlier, and
\nafterwards too I shall try to show the inhuman cruelty of the
\nBritish prison system. Lest some readers may look upon this
\nas an evil effect of these officers, I have described the
\nqualities of some of the chief of the staff. In the description
\nof the early stages of prison life there will be found further
\nevidence of these qualities. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nI have described my mental state on the first day of solitary
\nconfinement. For a few days I had to be without books or
\nany other aid to spend the period of forced isolation. Later
\non Mr. Emerson came and handed over to me the permission
\nto get some clothes and reading material from home. After
\nprocuring from the prison authorities pen and ink and their
\nofficial stationery I wrote to my respected maternal uncle,
\nthe well-known editor of Sanjibani,<\/i> to send my dhoti<\/i> and <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-288<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nkurta,<\/i> among books I asked for the Gita and
\nthe Upanishads. It took a couple of days for the books to reach me. Before that
\nI had enough leisure to realise the enormity or dangerous potentiality of solitary confinement. I could understand
\nwhy even firm and well-developed intellects crack up in sucti
\na state of confinement and readily turn towards insanity. At
\nthe same time, I could realise God’s infinite mercy and the
\nrare advantage offered by these same conditions. Before
\nimprisonment I was in the habit of sitting down for meditation for an hour in the morning and evening. In this solitary
\nprison, not having anything else to do, I tried to meditate for
\na longer period. But for those unaccustomed it is not easy to
\ncontrol and steady the mind pulled in a thousand directions.
\nSomehow I was able to concentrate for an hour and half or
\ntwo, later the mind rebelled while the body too was fatigued.
\nAt first the mind was full of thoughts of many kinds.
\nAfterwards devoid of human conversation and an insufferable listlessness due to absence of any subject of thought the
\nmind gradually grew devoid of the capacity to think. There
\nwas a condition when it seemed a thousand indistinct ideas
\nwere hovering round the doors of the mind but with gates
\nclosed; one or two that were able to get through were
\nfrightened by the silence of these mental states and quietly
\nrunning away. In this uncertain dull state I suffered intense
\nmental agony. In the hope of mental solace and resting the
\noverheated brain I looked at the beauties of nature outside,
\nbut with that solitary tree, a sliced sky and the cheerless
\nprospects in the prison how long can the mind in such a state
\nfind any consolation? I looked towards the blank wall.
\nGazing at the lifeless white surface the mind seemed to grow
\neven more hopeless, realising the agony of the imprisoned
\ncondition the brain was restless in the cage. I again sat down
\nto meditate. It was impossible. The intense baffled attempt
\nmade the mind only more tired, useless, made it burn annd <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-289<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nboil. I looked around, at last I found some large black ants
\nmoving about a hole in the ground, and I spent sometime
\nwatching their efforts and movements. Later I noticed some
\ntiny red ants. Soon there was a big battle between the black
\nand the red, the black ants began to bite and kill the red ants.
\nI felt an intense charity and sympathy for these unjustly
\ntreated red ants and tried to save them from the black killers.
\nThis gave me an occupation and something to think about.
\nThanks to the ants I passed a few days like this. Still there
\nwas no way to spend the long days ahead. I tried to argue
\nwith myself, did some deliberate reflection, but day after day ,
\nthe mind rebelled and felt increasingly desolate. It was as 
\nthough time weighed heavy, an unbearable torture, broken j
\nby that pressure it did not have leisure even to breathe ; freely, it was like being throttled by an enemy in a dream and
\nyet without the strength to move one’s limbs. I was amazed
\nat this condition! True, while outside, I never wished to stay
\nidle or without any activity, still I had spent long periods in
\nsolitary musings. Had and mind now become so weak that
\nthe solitude of a few days could make me so restless?
\nPerhaps, I thought, there, is a world of difference between
\nvoluntary and compulsory solitude. It is one thing to stay
\nalone in one’s home, but to have to stay, forced by others, in
\na solitary prison cell is quite another. There one can turn at
\nwill to men for refuge, find shelter in book knowledge and its ,
\nstylistic elegance, in the dear voice of friends, the noise on ¦
\nthe roadside, in the varied shows of the world, one can find
\njoy of mind and feel at ease. But here, bound to the wheels
\nof iron law, subservient to the whim of others, one had to
\nlive deprived of every other contact. According to the
\nprodverb, one who can stand solitude is either a god or a
\nbrute, it is a discipline quite beyond the power of men.
\nPreviously I was unable to believe in what the proverb said,
\nnow I could feel that even for one accustomed to the yogic <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-290<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nlife this discipline is not easy to acquire. I remember the
\nterrifying end of the Italian regicide, Breci. His cruel judges,
\ninstead of ordering him to be hanged, had given him seven
\nyears’ solitary imprisonment. Within a year Breci had gone
\nmad. But he had endured for some time! Was my mental
\nstrength so poor ? Then I did not know that God was having
\na game with me, through which He was giving me a few
\nnecessary lessons. First, He showed me the state of mind in
\nwhich prisoners condemned to solitary cells move towards
\ninsanity, and turned me wholly against the inhuman cruelty
\nof western prison administration, so that I might, to the best
\nof my ability, turn my countrymen and the world from these
\nbarbarous ways to the path of more humane prison organisation. This was the first lesson. I remembered, fifteen years
\nback, after returning home from England, I had written
\nsome bitterly critical articles in the Induprakash,<\/i> of Bombay,
\nagainst the petitionary ethics of the then Congress. Seeing
\nthat these articles were influencing the mind of the young,
\nthe late Mahadeo Govind Ranade had told me, when I met
\nhim, for nearly half an hour, that I should give up writing
\nthese articles, and advised me to take up some other
\nCongress work. He was desirous of my taking up the work of
\nprison reform. I was astonished and unhappy at his unexpected suggestion and had refused to undertake that work. I
\ndid not know then that this was a prelude to the distant
\nfuture and that one day God himself would keep me in
\nprison for a year and make me see the cruelty and futility of
\nthe system and the need for reform. Now I understood that
\nin the present political atmosphere there was no possibility of
\nany reform of the prison system, but I resolved before my
\nconscience to propagate and argue in its favour so that these
\nhellish remnants of an alien civilisation were not perpetuated
\nin a self-determining India. I also understood His second
\npurpose: it was to reveal and expose before my mind its own <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-291<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nweakness so that I might get rid of it for ever. For one who
\nseeks the yogic state crowd and solitude should mean the
\nsame. Indeed, the weakness dropped off within a very few
\ndays, and now it seems that the mental poise would not be
\ndisturbed even by twenty years of solitude. In the dispensation of the All-Good (mangalamaya)<\/i> even out of evil cometh
\ngood. The third purpose was to give me this lesson that my
\nyoga practices would not be done by my personal effort, but
\nthat a spirit of reverence (śraddhā)<\/i> and complete self-surrender (ātma-samarpana)<\/i> were the road to attain perfection
\nin yoga, and whatever power or realisation the Lord would
\ngive out of His benignity, to accept and utilise these should
\nbe the only aim of my yogic endeavour. The day from which
\nthe deep darkness of Ignorance began to lessen, I started to
\nsee the true nature of the All-Good Lord’s amazing infinite
\ngoodness as I watched the different events in the ward.
\nThere is no event\u2014great or small or even the smallest\u2014
\nfrom which some good has not accrued. He often fulfils three
\nor four aims through a single event. We frequently see the
\nworking of a blind force in the world, accepting waste as part
\nof nature’s method we ignore God’s omniscience and find
\nfault with the divine Intelligence. The charge is unfounded.
\nThe divine Intelligence never works blindly, there cannot be
\nthe slightest waste of His power, rather the restrained
\nmanner ,in which, through the minimum of means. He
\nachieves a variety of results is beyond the human intelligence. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nTroubled by mental listlessness I spent a few days in agony
\nin this manner. One afternoon as I was thinking streams of
\nthought began to flow endlessly and then suddenly these
\ngrew so uncontrolled and incoherent that I could feel that the
\nmind’s regulating power was about to cease. Afterwards
\nwhen I came back to myself, I could recollect that though the
\npower of mental control had ceased, the intelligence was not <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-292<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nself-lost or did not diviate for a moment, but it was as if
\nwatching quietly this marvellous phenomenon. But at the
\ntime, shaking with the terror of being overcome by insanity,
\nI had not been able to notice that. I called upon God with i
\neagerness and intensity and prayed to him to prevent my loss 
\nof intelligence. That very moment there spread over my
\nbeing such a gentle and cooling breeze, the heated brain
\nbecame relaxed, easy and supremely blissful such as in all my
\nlife I had never known before. Just as a child sleeps, secure
\nand fearless, on the lap of his mother, so I remained on the 
\nlap of the World-Mother. From that day all my troubles of
\nprison life were over. Afterwards on many occasions, during
\nthe period of detention, inquietude, solitary imprisonment,
\nand mental unease because of lack of activity, bodily trouble
\nor disease, in the lean periods of yogic life, these have come,
\nbut that day in a single moment God had given my inner
\nbeing such a strength that these sorrows as they came and
\nwent did not leave any trace or touch on the mind, relishing
\nstrength and delight in the sorrow itself the mind was able to
\nreject these subjective sufferings. The sufferings seemed as
\nfragile as water drops on a lily leaf. Then when the books
\ncame, their need had considerably lessened. I could have
\nstayed on even if the books were not there. Though it is not
\nthe purpose of these articles to write a history of my inner
\nlife, still I could not but mention this fact. From this one
\nincident it will be clear how it was possible to live happily
\nduring long solitary confinement. It was for this reason that
\nGod had brought about this situation or experience. Without
\nturning me mad he had enacted in my mind the gradual
\nprocess towards insanity that takes place in solitary confinement, keeping my intelligence as the unmoved spectator
\nof the entire drama. Out of this came strength, and I had an
\nexcess of kindness and sympathy for the victims of human
\ncruelty and torture. I also realised the extraordinary power \\
\n<\/i>and efficacy of prayer. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-293 <\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nV<\/b> <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nDuring the period of my solitary confinement Dr. Daly
\nand the Assistant Superintendent would come to my room
\nalmost every day and have a little chat. From the beginning,
\nI do not know why, I had been able to draw their special
\nfavour and sympathy. I did not speak much with them, but
\njust answered only when they asked something. If they
\nraised any issues I either listened quietly or would stop after
\nspeaking a few words. Yet they did not give up visiting me.
\nOne day Mr. Daly spoke to me, "I have been able, through
\nmy Assistant Superintendent, to get the big boss to agree
\nthat every day, in the morning and evening, you will be
\nallowed to take a walk in front of the decree. I do not like
\nthat you should be confined throughout the day in a small
\ncell, it’s bad for both body and mind." From that day on I
\nwould take a stroll everyday in the morning and evening in
\nthe open space before decree. In the afternoons it would be
\nfor ten, fifteen or twenty minutes, in the morning for an
\nhour; at times I would stay out for two hours, there was no
\ntime limit about it. I enjoyed this very much. On one side
\nwere the jail industries, on the other, the cowshed\u2014my
\nindependent kingdom was flanked by these two. From the
\nindustrial section to the cowshed, from the cowshed to the
\nindustrial section, travelling to and fro I would recite the
\ndeeply moving, immortal, powerful mantras<\/i> of the upanishads, or watching the movements and activities of the
\nprisoners I tried to realise the basic truths of the immanent
\nGodhead, God in every form. In the trees, the houses, the
\nwalls, in men, animals, birds, metals, the earth, with the help
\nof the mantra:<\/i> All this is the Brahman, (sarvam khalvidam
\nBrahma),<\/i> I would try to fix or impose that realisation on all
\nof these. As I went on doing like this sometimes the prison
\nceased to appear to be a prison at all. The high wall, those <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-294<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\niron bars, the white wall, the green-leaved tree shining in
\nsunlight, it seemed as if these common-place objects were
\nnot unconscious at all, but that they were vibrating with a
\nuniversal consciousness, they love me and wish to embrace
\nme, or so I felt. Men, cows, ants, birds are moving, flying,
\nsinging, speaking, yet all is Nature’s game; behind all this is a
\ngreat pure detached spirit rapt in a serene delight. Once in a
\nwhile it seemed as if God Himself was standing under the
\ntree, to play upon his Flute of Delight; and with its sheer
\ncharm to draw my very soul out. Always it seemed as if
\nsomeone was embracing me, holding me on one’s lap. The
\nmanifestation of these emotions overpowered my whole
\nbody and mind, a pure and wide peace reigned everywhere,
\nit is impossible to describe that. The hard cover of my life
\nopened up and a spring of love for all creatures gushed from
\nwithin. Along with this love such sāttvik<\/i> emotions as charity,
\nkindness, aimsā,<\/i> etc., overpowered my dominantly rajasik
\n<\/i>nature and found an abundant release. And the more these
\nqualities developed, the greater the delight and the deeper
\nthe sense of unclouded peace. The anxiety over the case had
\nvanished from the beginning, now it v\/as a contrary emotion
\nthat found room in my mind. God is All-Good, He had V
\nbrought me into the prison-house for my good, my release 1
\nand the quashing of charges was certain, I grew firm in this
\nfaith. After this for many days I did not have to suffer any
\ntroubles in the jail. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nIt took some days for these emotions to settle and deepen.
\nIt was while this was going on that the case opened in the
\nmagistrate’s court. At first the mind was greatly perturbed,
\nby being dragged from the silence of solitary imprisonment
\nto the noise of the world outside. The patience of inner
\ndiscipline was lost and the mind did not at all consent to
\nlisten for five hours on end to the dull and bothersome
\narguments by the prosecution. At first I tried to continue the <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-295<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ninner life while sitting in the court-room, but the unaccustomed mind would be attracted to every sound and sight, and
\nthe attempt would not succeed, in the midst of the noise
\ngoing on all round. Later the feelings changed and I acquired
\nthe power to reject from the mind the immediate sounds and
\nsights, and draw the mind inwards. But this did not take
\nplace in the early stages, the true power of concentration had
\nnot developed then. For that reason, giving up the futile
\nattempt, I would be content with seeing, now and then. God
\nin all creatures, for the rest I would observe the words and
\nbehaviour of my companions in adversity, else think of other
\n.things, or sometimes listened to Mr. Norton’s valuable
\n‘.remarks or even the evidence of witnesses. I found that while
\n,i spending one’s time in solitary imprisonment had grown easy and pleasant, it was not that easy in the midst of the crowd
\n‘and in the life-and-death game of a serious case. I greatly
\n; enjoyed the laughter, the jollities and the pleasantries of the <\/font><\/p>\n

\naccused lads, else the time spent at the court appeared
\n[wholly annoying. At four-thirty I would happily get into the
\npolice van and return to the prison. The contact of human life and each other’s company, after
\nfifteen or sixteen days of prison life, made the other prisoners extremely happy. As soon as they got into the cariage
\nthe fountain of laughter and conversation would open and
\nduring the ten minutes that they were inside the carriage the
\nstream would never cease for a moment. On the first day
\nthey took us to the court with great eclat. There was a small
\nplatoon of European sergeants who went along with us and
\nthey carried loaded pistols. At the time of our getting into
\nthe carriage a band of armed policemen stood guard round
\nus and did some marching behind the carriage, the ritual was
\nrepeated at the time of our getting down as well. Looking at
\nso much to-do some inexperienced spectators must have
\nthought that these laughter-loving young lads must be some ; <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-296<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ngroup of daredevil famous warriors. Who knows how much
\ncourage and strength resided in their bodies so that even with
\ntheir empty hands they might be able to break through the
\nimpassive cordon of a hundred policemen and tommies.
\nMaybe it was for this reason that we were being conducted
\nwith so much honour and ceremony. For a few days the
\npomp was kept up, then there was a gradual decline, in the
\nend two to four sergeants would be there to take and bring us
\nback. At the time of our getting down they did not very much
\nobserve how we entered the prison; we would walk into it as
\nif we were returning home after a stroll, just as a free person
\ndoes. Watching this carelessness and slackening the Police
\nCommisssioner and some of the Superintendents said angrily: "On the first day we had aranged for twenty-five to
\nthirty sergeants, now we see that not even four or five turn
\nup." They would scold the sergeants and make strict arrangements for supervision. Then, maybe for two days, two more
\nsergeants would come, and again the earlier slackness followed ! The sergeants found that the devotees of the bomb
\nwere quite harmless folk, who were not attempting to escape
\nand had no plans to kill or attack anyone, so they wondered
\nwhy they should waste valuable time in performing unpleasant duties. At first before entering and leaving the court
\nthere used to be a personal search, during which we used to; have the joy of feeling the soft palms of the sergeants,
\notherwise no one was likely to profit or to lose from this,
\nsearch. It was clear that our protectors had profound seepticism about the utility of such a procedure, and after a few 
\ndays this was also given up. We could safely carry with us f
\ninto the courtroom books, bread, sugar just as we liked.
\nThey soon got the feeling that we were not there to hurl a
\nbomb or fire a pistol. But I noticed that there was one
\nsingular fear from which the sergeant’s mind was not free.
\nWho knew which of the accused will have the evil brainwave <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-297<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nof hurling a pair of a shoes at the glorious pate of the
\nmagistrate ? Then the fat would be in the fire! For this reason
\nentering the court with shoes on was strictly forbidden, and
\nthe sergeants were always alert on that point. I did not notice
\nthem to be keen on any other safety measures. <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nVI<\/b> <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nThe nature of the case was a little strange. Magistrate,
\ncounsel, witnesses, evidence, exhibits, accused, all appeared
\na little outre.<\/i> Watching, day after day, the endless stream of
\nwitnesses and exhibits, the counsel’s unvaried dramatic
\nperformance, the boyish frivolity and light-heartedness of
\nthe youthful magistrate, looking at the amazing spectacle I
\noften thought that instead of sitting in a British court of
\njustice we were inside a stage of some world of fiction. Let
\nme describe some of the odd inhabitants of that kingdom. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nThe star performer of the show was the government
\ncounsel, Mr. Norton. Not only the star performer, but he
\nwas also its composer, stage manager and prompter\u2014a
\nversatile genius like him must be rare in the world. Counsel
\nMr. Norton hailed from Madras, hence it appeared he was
\nunaccustomed and inexperienced in the common code and
\ncourtesy as it obtained among the barristers of Bengal. He
\nhad been at one time a leader of the National Organisation,
\nand for that reason might have been incapable of tolerating
\nopposition and contradiction, and in the habit of punishing
\nopponents. Such natures are known as ferocious. I cannot
\nsay whether Mr. Norton had been the lion of Madras
\nCorporation, but he certainly was the king among beasts at
\nthe Alipore court. It was hard to admire his depth of legal
\nacumen\u2014which was as rare as winter in summer. But in the
\nceaseless flow of words, and through verbal quips, in the
\nstrange ability to transmute inconsequential witness into <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-298<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nsomething serious, in the boldness of making groundless
\nstatements or statements with little ground, in riding rough-
\nshod over witnesses and junior barristers and in the charming
\nability to turn white into black, to see his incomparable
\ngenius in action was but to admire him. Among the great
\ncounsels there are three kinds\u2014those who, through their
\nlegal acumen, satisfactory exposition and subtle analysis can
\ncreate a favourable impression on the judge; those who can
\nskilfully draw out the truth from the witnesses and by
\npresenting the facts of the case and the subject under
\ndiscussion draw the mind of the judge or the jury towards
\nthemselves; and those who through their loud speech, by
\nthreats and oratorical flow can dumbfound the witness and
\nsplendidly confuse the entire issue, can win the case by
\ndistracting the intelligence of the judge or the jury. Mr.
\nNorton is foremost in this third category. This is by no means
\na defect. The counsel is a worldly person, he takes money for
\nhis service, to gain the intention of the client is his duty, is
\nwhat he is there for. Now, according to the British legal
\nsystem the bringing out of truth by the contending parties,
\ncomplainant and defendant, is not the real purpose, to win
\nthe case, by hook or by crook, is what it is really after. Hence
\nthe counsel must bend his energies, towards that end, else he
\nwould be Unfaithful to the law of his being. If God has not
\nendowed one with other qualities then one must fight with
\nsuch qualities as one possesses, and win the case with their
\nhelp. Thus Mr. Norton was but following the law of his own
\nbeing (svadharma).<\/i> The government paid him a thousand
\nrupees a day. In case this turned out to be a useless
\nexpenditure the government would be loser, Mr. Norton was
\ntrying heart and soul to prevent such a loss to the government. But in a political case, the accused have to be given
\nwide privileges and not to emphasise doubtful or uncertain
\nevidence were rules germane to the British legal system. Had <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-299<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nMr. Norton cared to remember this convention it would not
\nhave, I feel, harmed the case. On the other hand, a few
\ninnocent persons would have been spared the torture of
\nsolitary imprisonment and innocent Ashok Nandi might have
\neven been alive. The counsel’s leonine nature was probably
\nat the root of the trouble. Just as Holinshed and Plutarch had
\ncollected the material for Shakespeare’s historical plays, in
\nthe same manner the police had collected the material for
\nthis drama of a case. And Mr. Norton happened to be the
\nShakespeare of this play. I, however, noticed a difference
\nbetween Shakespeare and Mr. Norton: Shakespeare would
\nnow and then leave out some of the available material, but
\nMr. Norton never allowed any material, true or false, cogent
\nor irrelevant, from the smallest to the largest, to go unused; on top of it he could create such a wonderful plot by his self-
\ncreated and abundant suggestion, inference and hypothesis
\nthat the great poets and writers of fiction like Shakespeare
\nand Defoe would have to acknowledge defeat before this
\ngrand master of the art. The critic might say that just as
\nFalstaff’s hotel bill showed a pennyworth of bread and
\ncountless gallons of wine, similarly in Norton’s plot "an
\nounce of proof was mixed with tons of inference and suggestion". But even detractors are bound to praise the
\nelegance and construction of the plot. It gave me great
\nhappiness that Mr. Norton had chosen me as the protagonist
\nof this play. Like Satan in Milton’s paradise Lost,<\/i> in Mr.
\nNorton’s plot at the centre of the mighty rebellion stood I, an
\nextraordinarily sharp, intelligent and powerful, bold, bad
\nman! Of the national movement I was the alpha and the
\n; omega, its creator and saviour, engaged in undermining the
\nBritish empire. As soon as he came across any piece of
\nexcellent or vigorous writing in English he would jump and
\nloudly proclaim, Aurobindo Ghose! All the legal and illegal,
\nthe organised activities or unexpected consequences of the <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-300<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nmovement were the doings of Aurobindo Ghose! and when
\nthey are the doings of Aurobindo Ghose then when even
\nlawfully admissible they must contain hidden illegal inten-
\ntions and potentialities. He probably thought that if I were
\nnot caught within two years, it would be all up with the
\nBritish empire. If my name ever appeared on any torn sheet
\nof paper, Mr. Norton’s joy knew no bounds, with great
\ncordiality he would present it at the holy feet of the presiding
\nmagistrate. It is a pity I was not born as an Avatar otherwise
\nthanks to his intense devotion and ceaseless contemplation
\nof me for the nonce, he would surely have earned his release,
\nmukti,<\/i> then and there and both the period of our detention
\nand the government’s expenses would have been curtailed.
\nSince the sessions court declared me innocent of the charges
\nNorton’s plot was sadly shorn of its glory and elegance. By
\nleaving the Prince of Denmark out of Hamlet<\/i> the humourless
\njudge, Beachcroft, damaged the greatest poem of the twentieth century. If the critic is allowed his right to alter poetic
\ncompositions, such loss of meaning can hardly be prevented.
\nNorton’s other agony was that some of the other witnesses
\ntoo were so caused that they had wholly refused to bear
\nevidence in keeping with his fabricated plot. At this Norton
\nwould grow red with fury and, roaring like a lion, he would
\nstrike terror in the heart of the witness and cower him down.
\nLike the legitimate and irrepressible anger of a poet when his \/
\nwords are altered or of a stage manager when the actor’s 
\ndeclamation, tone or postures go against his directions,
\nNorton felt a comparable loss of temper. His quarrel with
\nbarrister Bhuban Chatterji had this holy or sattvic<\/i> anger as its
\nroot. Such an inordinately sensitive person as Mr. Chatterji I
\nhave not come across. He had no sense of time or propriety.
\nFor instance, whenever Mr. Norton sacrificed the distinction
\nbetween the relevant and the irrelevant, tried to force odd
\narguments purely for the sake of poetic effect, Mr. Chatterji <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-301<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nwould invariably get up and raise objections and declare these as inadmissible. He did not appreciate that these were
\npeing furnished not because they were relevant or legal, but
\n[because they might serve the purpose of Norton’s stage-
\ncraft. At such impropriety not Norton alone but Mr. Birley
\ncould hardly contain himself. Once Mr. Birley addressed
\nChatterji in a pathetic tone: "Mr. Chatterji, we were getting
\non very nicely before you came." Indeed so, if one raises
\nobjections at every word the drama does not proceed, nor
\nhas the audience the joy of it. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nIf Mr. Norton was the author of the play, its protagonist
\nand stage manager, Mr. Birley may well be described as its
\npatron. He seemed to be a credit to his Scotch origin: His
\nfigure was a symbol or reminder of Scotland. Very fair, quite
\ntall, extremely spare, the little head on the long body seemed
\nlike little Auchterlome sitting on top of the sky-kissing
\nAuchterlonie monument, or as if a ripe cocoanut had been
\nput on the crest of Cleopatra’s obelisk ! Sandy-haired, all the
\ncold and ice of Scotland seemed to lie frozen on his face. So
\ntall a person needed an intelligence to match, else one had to
\nbe sceptical about the economy of nature. But in this matter,
\nof the creation of Birley, probably the Creatrix had been slightly unmindful and
\ninattentive. The English poet Marlowe has described this miserliness as "infinite riches in a
\nlittle room" but encountering Mr. Birley one has an opposite
\nfeeling, infinite room in little riches. Finding so little intelligence in such a lengthy body one indeed felt pity. Remembering. how a few such administrators were governing thirty
\ncrores of Indians could not but rouse a deep devotion
\ntowards the majesty of the English masters and their
\nmethods of administration. Mr. Birley’s knowledge came a
\ncropper during the cross-examination by Shrijut Byomkesh
\nChakravarty. Asked to declare when he had taken charge of
\nthe case in his own benign hands and how to complete the <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-302<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nprocess of taking over charge of a case, after years of’
\nmagistracy, Mr. Birley’s head reeled to find these out.
\nUnable to solve the problem he finally tried to save his skin
\nby leaving it to Mr. Chakravarty to decide. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nEven now among the most complex problems of the case
\nthe question remains as to when Mr. Birley had taken over
\nthis case. The pathetic appeal to Mr. Chatterji, which I have
\nquoted earlier, will help one to infer Mr. Birley’s manner of
\njudgment. From the start, charmed by Mr. Norton’s learning
\nand rhetoric, he had been completely under his spell. He
\nwould follow, so humbly, the road pointed out by Norton.
\nAgreeing with his views, he laughed when Norton laughed,
\ngrew angry as Norton went angry. Looking at this daft
\nchildlike conduct one sometimes felt tenderly and paternally
\ntowards him. Birley was exceedingly childlike. I could never
\nthink of him as a magistrate, it seemed as if a school student
\n‘suddenly turned teacher, was sitting at the teacher’s high
\ndesk. That was the manner in which he conducted the affairs
\nof the court. In case someone did not behave pleasantly
\ntowards him, he would scold him like a schoolmaster. If any
\nI one of us, bored with the farce of a case, started to talk
\namong ourselves, Mr. Birley would snap like a schoolmaster,
\nin case people did not obey he would order everybody to
\nkeep standing and if this was not done at once he would tell
\nthe sentry to see to it. We had grown so accustomed to the
\nschoolmasterish manner that when Birley and Chatterji had
\n[started to quarrel we were expecting every moment that the
\nbarrister would now be served with the stand up order. But
\nMr. Birley adopted an opposite course Shouting "Sit down, Mr. Chatterji", he
\nmade this new and disobedient pupil of the Alipore School take his seat. Just as
\nwhen a student asks questions or demands further explanation an irritated teacher threatens him, so whenever the advocate representing the
\naccused raised objections Mr. Birley would threaten him. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-303<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nSome witnesses gave Norton a hell of a time. Norton wanted
\nto prove that a particular piece of writing was in the
\nhandwriting of such-and-such accused. If the witness said
\n"No sir, this is not exactly like that handwriting, but may be,
\none cannot be sure,"\u2014many witnesses answered like that\u2014
\nNorton would become quite agitated. Scolding, shouting,
\nthreatening, he would try somehow to get the desired
\nanswer. And his last question would be, "What is your
\nbelief? Do you think it is so or not?" To this the witness
\ncould say neither "yes" nor "no", every time, again and
\nagain, he would repeat the same answer and try to make
\nNorton understand that he had no "belief" in the matter and
\nwas swayed between scepticisms. But Norton did not care for
\nsuch an answer. Every time he would hurl the same question,
\nlike thunder, at the witness: "Come, sir, what is your
\nbelief?" Mr. Birley, in his turn, would catch fire from the
\nembers of Norton’s anger, and thunder from his high seat
\nabove: "Tomar biswas ki achay?"<\/i> Poor witness! he would
\nbe in a dilemma. He had no "biswas" (belief), yet on one
\nside of him was ranged the magistrate, and on the other, like
\na hungry tiger, Norton was raging in a circle to disembowel
\nhim and get at the priceless never-to-be-had "biswas". Often
\nthe "biswas" would not materialise, and his brain in a whirl,
\nthe sweating witness would escape with his life from the
\ntorture chamber. Some who held their life dearer than their
\n"biswas" would make good their escape by offering an
\nartificial "biswas" at the feet of Mr. Norton, who also, now
\nhighly pleased, would conduct the rest of the cross examination with care and affection. Because such a counsel had
\nbeen matched with a magistrate of the same calibre the case
\nhad all the more taken on the proportions of a play.
\n<\/font><\/p>\n

\n     Though a few of the witnesses went against Mr. Norton
\n<\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/font><\/p>\n

\n       ‘ What is your belief? Or, simply, what do you think? <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-304<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nthe majority answered in support of his questions. Among
\nthese there were few familiar faces. One or two we of course
\nknew. Of these Devdas Karan helped to dispel our boredom
\nand made us hold our sides with laughter, for which we shall
\nbe eternally grateful to him. In course of giving evidence he
\nsaid that at the time of the Midnapore Conference when
\nSurendrababu had asked from his students devotion to the
\nteacher, gurubhakti,<\/i> Aurobindobabu had spoken out: "What
\ndid Drona do?" Hearing this Mr. Norton’s eagerness and
\ncuriosity knew no bounds, he must have thought "Drona" to
\nbe a devotee of the bomb or a political killer or someone
\nassociated with the Manicktola Garden or the Student’s
\nStore. Norton may have thought that the phrase meant that
\nAurobindo Ghose was advising the giving of bombs to
\nSurendrababu as a reward instead of gurubhakti.<\/i> For such an
\ninterpretation would have helped the case considerably,
\nHence he asked eagerly: "What did Drona do?’" At first the
\nwitness was unable to make out the nature of the (silly)
\nquestion. And for five minutes a debate went on, in the end; throwing his hands high, Mr. Karan told Norton: "Drona
\nperformed many a miracle." This did not satisfy Mr. Norton.,
\nHow could he be content without knowing the whereabouts
\nof Drona’s bomb ? So he asked again: "What do you mean by
\nthat? Tell me what exactly he did." The witness gave many
\nanswers, but in none was Dronacharya’s life’s secret unravelled as Norton would have liked it. He now lost his temper
\nand started to roar. The witness too began to shout. An
\nadvocate, smiling, expressd the doubt that perhaps the.
\nwitness did not know what Drona had done. At this Mr.,,
\nKaran went wild with anger and wounded pride, abhiman<\/i><\/font><\/p>\n

\n    <\/font><\/p>\n

\n ‘ In Mahabharata<\/i> Drona or Dronacharya is a preceptor of the royal
\nprinces. Norton and others, ignorant of the reference, took him to be a
\ncontemporary character, in fact a conspirator. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-305<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n"What", he shouted, "I, I do not know what Drona had
\ndone? Bah, have I read the Mahabharata<\/i> from cover to
\ncover in vain?" For half an hour a battle royal waged
\nbetween Norton and Karan over Drona’s corpse. Every five
\nminutes, shaking the Alipore judge’s court, Norton hurled
\nhis question: "Out with it, Mr. Editor! What did Drona do ?"
\nIn. answer the editor began a long cock and bull story, but
\nthere was no reliable news about what Drona had done. The
\nentire court reverberated with peals of laughter. At last,
\nduring tiffin time, Mr. Karan came back after a little
\n, reflection with a cool head, and he suggested this solution of
\nj<\/i> the problem, that poor Drona had done nothing and that the
\nhalf-hour long tug of war over his departed soul had been in
\nvain, it was Arjuna who had killed his guru,<\/i> Drona. Thanks
\nto this false accusation, Dronacharya, relieved, must have
\noffered his thanks at Kailasha to Sadashiva, that because of ;¦
\nMr. Karan’s evidence he did not have to stand in the dock in ‘
\nthe Alipore bomb conspiracy case. A word from the editor
\nwould have easily established his relationship with Aurobindo Ghose. But the all-merciful Sadashiva saved him from
\nsuch a fate. <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nVII<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nThe witnesses in the case could be divided into three categories. There were the police and the secret service men; i
\nthere were people from the lower classes and other gentry,
\nfor misdeeds of their own, deeply in love with the police; and
\nthere were others who, because of personal failings and
\ndeprived of the love of the police, had been dragged
\nunwillingly to give evidence. Each category had its own style
\nof offering evidence. The gentlemen of the police would say
\ntheir say, already decided upon, quite cheerfully, without
\nhesitation, just as it pleased them, would recognise those
\nthey had to, without a shade of doubt, hesitation or any <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-306<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nmargin of error. The friends of the police would give witness
\nwith considerable eagerness, those they had to identify they
\nwould, but sometimes in their excessive eagerness they
\nwould even identify those who were not to be identified.
\nThose who had been brought there against their wishes
\nwould say only what they knew, but this would come to very
\nlittle and Norton would feel unsatisfied. Assuming that the
\nwitness was holding back highly valuable and certain proof
\nhe would make every attempt to cross-examine him and get
\nthe secret out of his system, by a surgical operation of the
\nabdomen as it were. This put the witnesses into a good deal
\nof difficulty. On one side stood a thundering Mr. Norton, a
\nred-eyed Mr. Birley, on the other the great sin of sending, on
\nfalse evidence, one’s countrymen to the Andaman islands.
\nWhether to please Norton and Birley or God, for the witness
\nthis question assumed serious proportions. On one side,
\ntemporary danger because of incurring other men’s displeasure, on the other, hell and misery in the next life due to
\none’s evil deeds. But the witness would reflect: hell and the
\nnext life are still far beyond while the man-made dangers
\nmight swallow him at the next moment. Afraid that they
\nmight be convicted of bearing false evidence because of their
\nunwillingness to do so, such a fear was likely to be shared by
\nmany, since in such cases the consequences were none too
\nrare. For this type of witness the time spent in the witness-
\nbox was made up of a good deal of fear and agony. At the
\nend of the cross-examination their half-vanished life would
\nreturn to their bodies and relieve them of the suffering.
\nSome, however, gave their evidence boldly without caring
\nfor Nortonian thunders, at which the English counsel, following national habit, would soften. Like this so many
\nwitnesses came and went and gave such a variety of evidence, but not one helped the police cause in any way worth
\nmentioning. <\/b> One spoke quite plainly, "I know nothing, and <\/font><\/p>\n

\n Page-307<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\ncannot understand why the police have dragged me into it!"
\nThis sort of method for conducting cases is possible perhaps
\nonly in India, had it been some other country the judge
\nwould have been annoyed and would have severely censured
\nand taught the police a lesson. Hauling hundreds of wit-
\nnesses, gathered on a basis of guesswork, and without
\ninquiring whether one was guilty or not, wasting the country’s finances and keeping without any sense the accused for
\nlong periods under the hardship of prison life, it is worthy
\n‘only of the police force of this country. But what were the
\npoor police to do? They are detectives only in name, but
\n^without much power of their own. Hence to throw a wide net
\n:¦and catch good, bad and indifferent witnesses in this manner and bring them to the witness box, like pig in a poke, was
\n;their only way. Who knows, these men might have some  information, even provide some proof. <\/font><\/p>\n

\n The method for identification was also extremely mysterious. First, the witness was told. Would you be able to
\nj recognise any one of these persons? If the witness answered,
\n1 Yes, I can, happy Mr. Norton would arrange for the identification parade in the witness box itself and order him to
\n‘demonstrate the powers of his memory. In case the man said,
\nI am not sure, maybe I can recognise, Mr. Norton would
\ngrow a little sad and say, All right, go and try. When
\nsomeone said, No, I can’t, I haven’t seen them or I did not
\nmark carefully, Mr. Norton would not let him go even then.
\nLooking at so many faces some memory of the past life might
\ncome back, in that hope he would send him to the experi-
\nment to find out. The witness however lacked such a yogic
\npower. Perhaps the fellow had no faith in the past life, and
\ngravely marching, under the sergeant’s supervision, between
\ntwo long rows of accused persons, he would say, without
\neven looking at us, No, I don’t know any one of them.
\nCrestfallen, Norton would take back his human net without <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-308<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nany catch. In course of this trial there was a
\nmarvellous illustration of how sharp and correct human memory could be. Thirty
\nto forty people would be kept standing, one didn’t know their name, hadn’t known
\nthem at all in this or any other life, yet whether one had seen or not seen
\nsomeone two months back, or seen such and such person at three places and not
\nseen in the other two;\u2014one had seen him brush his teeth once, and so his figure
\nremains imprinted in the brain for all time. When did one see this person, what
\nwas he doing, was there anyone else with him, or was he alone? One remembers
\nnothing of these, yet his figure is fixed in one’s mind for all lives; one has
\nmet Hari ten times, so there is no probability of forgetting him, but even if
\none has seen Shyam only for half a minute, one would not be able to forget him
\ntill one’s last breath, and with no possibility of mistake,\u2014such a power of
\nmemory is not to be found frequently in this imperfect human nature, this earth
\nwrap- ped up in matter and its unconsciousness. But not one, not two, every
\npolice chap seemed to be the owner of such uncanny, error-proof accurate memory.
\nBecause of which our devotion and respect for the C.I.D. grew more profound day
\nby day. It is not that in the magistrate’s court we did not have, once or twice,
\noccasions for scepticism. When I found in the written evidence that Sisir Ghose
\nhad been in Bombay in the month of April, yet a few police chaps had seen him
\nprecisely during that period in Scott’s Lane and Harrison Road,’ one could not
\nbut feel a little uneasy. And when Birendrachandra Sen of Sylhet, while he was
\nphysically present at Baniachung, at his father’s place, became visible in his
\nsubtle body to the occult vision of the C.I.D. at the Garden and Scott’s Lane\u2014of
\nwhich Scott’s Lane Birendra knew nothing, as was proved conclusively in the
\nwritten <\/font><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n   ‘ In Calcutta.<\/font><\/font>
\n<\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-309<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nevidence\u2014the doubts could not but deepen: especially when ; those who had never set their foot in Scott’s Lane were
\ninformed that the police had often found them there, in the
\ncircumstances a little suspicion seemed not unnatural. A
\nwitness from Midnapore\u2014whom the accused persons from
\nMidnapore however described as a secret service man\u2014said
\nthat he had seen Hemchandra Sen of Sylhet, lecturing at
\nTamluk. Now Hemchandra had never seen Tamluk with his
\nmortal eyes, yet his shadow self had rushed from Sylhet to
\nMidnapore and, with his powerful and seditionary nationalist speech delighted
\nthe eyes and ears of our detective monsieur. But the causal body of Charuchandra Roy of Chandernagore, materialising at Manicktola had perpetrated’ even
\ngreater mysteries. Two police officers declared on oath that
\non such and such date at such and such time they had seen
\nCharubabu at Shyambazar, from where he had walked, in
\nthe company of a conspirator, to the Manicktola Gardens.
\nThey had followed him up to that and watched him from
\nclose quarters, and there could be no ground for error. Both
\nwitnesses did not budge when cross-examined. The words of
\nVyasa are true indeed, Vyāsasya vacanam satyam,<\/i> the
\nevidence of the police also cannot be otherwise. They were
\nnot wrong in their view about date and time either, since
\nfrom the evidence of the Principal, Dupleix College, Chandernagore, it seemed that on the same day and at the same
\ntime, Charubabu had taken leave from the College and gone
\nto Calcutta. But the surprising thing was that on that day and
\nat that hour on the Howrah station platform he was found
\ntalking with the Mayor of Chandernagore, Tardival, his wife,
\nthe Governor of Chandernagore and few other distinguished
\nEuropean gentlemen. Remembering the occasion they had,
\nall of them, agreed to stand witness in favour of Charubabu.
\nSince the police had to release Charubabu at the instance of
\nthe French government the mystery has remained unsolved. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-310<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nBut I would advise Charubabu to send all the proofs to the
\nPsychical Research Society and help in the advancement of
\nknowledge. Police evidence\u2014especially the C.I.D.’s\u2014can
\nnever be false, hence there is no way out except to seek
\nrefuge in Theosophy. On the whole during this trial at every
\nstage I could find, in the British legal system, how easily the
\ninnocent could be punished, sent to prison, suffer transportation, even loss of life. Unless one stood in the dock oneself,
\none cannot realise the delusive untruth of the Western penal
\ncode. It is something of a gamble, a gamble with human
\nfreedom, with man’s joys and sorrows, a life-long agony for
\nhim and his family, his friends and relatives, insult, a living
\ndeath. In this system there is no counting as to how often
\nguilty persons escape and how many innocent persons
\nperish. Once one has been involved in this gamble, this
\ncruel, callous, reactionary social machinery, one can under-
\nstand the reason for so much propaganda on behalf of
\nSocialism and Anarchism, and their wide influence. In such a
\nmilieu it is not to be wondered at that many liberal and kind-
\nhearted men have started to say, it is better to end and
\ndestroy this society; if society has to be preserved with the
\naid of so much sin and suffering, the burning sighs of the
\ninnocent and their heart’s blood,its preservation would seem
\nunnecessary.  <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nVIII<\/b>  <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nThe only worthwhile event in the magistrate’s court was
\nthe evidence of Narendranath Goswami. Before describing
\nthat event let me first apeak about the companions of my
\ndays of trouble, the boys who had been accused along with
\nme. Watching their behaviour in the court room I could well
\nguess that a new age had dawned, a new type of children had
\nbegun to live on the Mother’s lap. Those days the Bengali
\nboys were of two kinds: either docile, well mannered,’<\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-311 <\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nharmless, of good character, cowardly, lacking in self-respect
\nand high aims; else they were evil characters, rowdies,
\nrestless, cheats, lacking in restraint and honesty. Between
\nthese two extremes, creatures of many kinds must have been
\nborn on the lap of Mother Bengal, but except for eight or ten
\nextraordinary talented and vigorous pioneers no strong
\nrepresentatives of a superior breed beyond these two groups
\nwere usually to be seen. The Bengali had intelligence, talent.
\nbut little power of manhood. Looking at these lads, how-
\never, one felt as if the liberal, daring, puissant men of an
\nearlier age with a different training had come back to India.
\nThat fearless and innocent look in their eyes, the words
\nbreathing power, their carefree delighted laughter, even in
\nthe midst of great danger the undaunted courage, cheerful-
\nness of mind, absence of despair, or grief, all this was a
\nsymptom not of the inert Indians of those days, but of a new
\nage, a new race and a new activity. If these were murderers,
\nthen one must say that the bloody shadow of killing had not
\nfallen across their nature, in which there was nothing at all of
\ncruelty, recklessness or bestiality. Without worrying in the
\nleast about the future or the outcome of the trial they passed
\ntheir days in prison with boyish fun, laughter, games, reading
\nand in discussions. Quite early they had made friends with
\nevery one, with officers, the sentries, convicts, European
\nsergeants, detectives, court officals and without distinguish-
\ning between friends and enemies, high and low, had started
\nto tell stories and jokes. They found the time spent in the
\ncourt-room quite tiresome, for in that farce of a trial there
\nwas very little that was enjoyable. They had no books with
\nwhich to pass the time, and talking was forbidden. Those of
\nthem who had started doing yoga, they hadn’t so far learnt
\nhow to concentrate even in a crowd, for them passing the
\ntime proved quite difficult. At first some of them began to
\nbring books with them, this was soon followed by others. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-312<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nLater on, one could see a strange spectacle: while the trial
\nwas going on, and the fate of thirty or forty accused persons
\nwas being wrangled over, whose result might be hanging or
\ntransportation for life, some of the accused persons without
\nas much as glancing at what is happening, around them, were
\nabsorbed in reading the novels of Bankimchandra, Vivekananda’s Raja Yoga<\/i> or Science of Religions,<\/i> or the Gita, the
\nPuranas, or European Philosophy. Neither the English
\nsergeants nor the Indian policemen objected to this. They
\nmust have thought, if this keeps the caged tigers peaceful,
\nthat only lightens their duty. Further, this arrangement
\nharmed no one. But one day Mr. Birley’s eyes were drawn to
\nit, to the magistrate this was unbearable and unpardonable.
\nFor two or three days he kept quiet, then, he could not hold
\nhimself any longer and gave orders for biding the bringing of
\nbooks to the court room. Really, Biriey was dispensing
\njustice so beautifully, but instead of everybody enjoying that
\nand listening to his judgements, here was everybody reading
\nbooks! There was no doubt that this showed great disrespect
\nfor Birley’s dignity and the majesty of British justice. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nDuring the period of our detention in separate cells, it was
\nonly in the police van, an hour or half before the magistrate’s
\narrival and during tiffin time that we had some scope for
\nconversation. Those who were known to each other from
\nbefore would employ this recess to have a revenge for the
\nforced silence and solitude of the cell and would spend the
\ntime in jokes, pleasantries and a variety of discussions. But
\nthe leisures were not conducive to conversation with unfamiliar people, hence I did not talk much. I would listen to their
\nstories and laughter but myself did not join any one other
\nthan my brother and Abinash. One person would however
\noften edge his way towards my side, this was the future
\napprover, Narendranath Goswami. He was not quiet and
\nwell-behaved like the other boys, but looked bold, light-
\nhearted and in character, speech and act, undisciplined. At <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-313<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nthe time of his arrest he had shown his natural courage and
\nforwardness, but being light-hearted it was impossible for
\nhim to put up with the minimum suffering of prison life. A
\nlandlord’s son, brought up in luxury and evil ways, the severe
\nrestraint and austerity of prison life had proved too much for
\nhim, a fact which he did not hesitate to express before
\nothers. The grotesque longing to be freed by any means from
\nthis agony began to grow upon his mind from day to day. At
\nfirst he had the hope that by withdrawing his confession he
\nmight be able to prove that the police had extorted, by
\ntorturing him, a confession of his guilt. He told us that his
\nfather was determined to procure these false witnesses. But
\nwithin a very few days another attitude revealed itself.’ His
\nfather and a moktar,<\/i> a pleader’s agent, began to visit him
\nfrequently in the prison, in the end the detective Sham-sulAlam also came and started holding long and secret conversations with him. During this period Gossain’ developed a
\ntendency to be curious and ask questions. At this many felt
\nsuspicious about him. He would ask big and small questions,
\nof Barindra and Upendra, if they knew or were close to the
\n‘big men of India’, and who were the people that helped the
\nsecret society with money, and the men belonging to the
\ngroup outside India and in the different provinces of India,
\nwho would run the society now, where are its branches, etc.
\nThe news of Gossain’s sudden thirst for learning soon
\nreached everyone and his intimacy with Shams-ul-Alam too,
\ninstead of remaining confidential love-talk, became an open
\nsecret. There was a good deal of talk over this and it was
\nnoticed by some that these ever new questions would sprout
\nin Gossain’s mind after every visit from the police. It is
\nneedless to say that he did not receive satisfactory answers to
\nhis questions. When these things were being first talked <\/font><\/p>\n

\n       ‘ A short, familiar form for Goswami. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-314<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nabout among the accused, Gossain himself had
\nconfessed that the police were trying to persuade him in a number of ways to
\nturn into a "king’s approver". He had once mentioned this to me in the court. "What did you tell them?" I
\nhad asked him. "Do you think I am going to listen to that!
\nAnd even if I do, what do I know that I could offer evidence
\nin the way they would like to have it?" When after a few days
\nhe broached the subject once again, I noticed events had
\nmoved a bit too far. While standing by my side at the
\nidentification parade he told me, "The police are visiting me
\nall the time." "Why don’t you tell them that Sir Andrew
\nFrazer’ was the chief patron of the secret society, that would
\nbe ample reward for their labour," I told him jokingly. "I
\nhave said something of the sort," answered Gossain. "I have
\ntold them that Surendranath Banerji is our head and that
\nonce I had shown him a bomb." Staggered at this I asked,
\n"What was the need of saying that sort of thing?" In answer
\nGossain said: "1 shall make mincemeat of the…. I have told
\nthem many other things of that kind. Let the \u2014s die of
\nseeking for corroboration. Who knows because of this the
\ntrial may go phut." In answer I only said: "You should give
\nup this kind of mischief. By trying to be clever with them you
\nwill be fooled." I do not know how far Gossain had spoken
\nthe truth. The other accused thought that he had said all this
\nin order to throw dust in our eyes. To me it seemed that till
\nthen Gossain had not wholly made up his mind to turn an
\napprover, even if he had proceeded quite far in that direction, but he had also the hope of spoiling the case by
\nmisleading the police. To achieve one’s end through trickery
\nand evil ways is the natural inspiration for a wicked disposition. From then on I could make out that, under the thumb
\nof the police, by telling them fact or fiction, just as they <\/font><\/p>\n

\n     ‘ The Governor of Bengal. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-315<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nneeded, Gossain would try to save his own skin. The
\ndegradations of an evil nature were being enacted before our
\nvery eyes. I noticed how, from day to day, Gossain’s mind
\nWas undergoing rapid changes, his face, his movements and
\nmanners, his language were not the same as before. He
\nstarted to adduce economic and political justifications in
\nsupport of ruining his companions through treachery. One
\ndoes not often come across such an interesting psychological
\nstudy. <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nIX<\/b> <\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nAt first no one allowed Gossain to guess that his designs
\nwere known to all. He too was so stupid as to be unaware of
\nthis for quite some time, he thought he was helping the
\npolice quite secretly. But when after a few days it was
\nordered that instead of solitary confinement we would have
\nto live together, because of this new arrangement we used to
\nmeet and talk throughout the day and night, and the thing
\ncould not be a secret much longer. At this time one or two of
\nthe boys had quarrels with Gossain. From their language and
\nthe unpleasant behaviour of everybody else Gossain could
\nsee that his intentions were not unknown to any one. When
\nlater he gave his evidence before the court, some English
\nnewspapers reported that this had caused surprise and
\nexcitement among the accused persons. Needless to say, this
\nwas entirely the reporters’ fancy. Days ahead every one had
\nknown the nature of evidence that would be offered. In fact,
\neven the date on which the evidence was given was known
\nfrom before. At this time an accused went to Gossain and
\nsaid\u2014"Look, brother, life here is intolerable. I too would
\nlike to turn an approver. Please tell Sham-sulAlam to
\narrange for my release." Gossain agreed to this and after a
\nfew days told him that a government note had come to the
\neffect that there was a possibility of favourable consideration <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-316<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nof the accused’s appeal. After which Gossain suggested to
\nhim to eke out some necessary information from Upen and
\nothers, for instance, the location of the branches of the secret
\nsociety and its leaders, etc. The pretended approver was a
\nman with a sense of humour, a lover of fun, and, on
\nUpendra’s advice, he supplied a number of imaginary names
\nto Gossain, and said that among the leaders of the secret
\nsociety were Vishambhar Pillay in Madras, Purushottam
\nNatekar at Satara, Professor Bhatt in Bombay and Krishna-
\njirao Bhao of Baroda. Gossain was delighted with this and
\npassed on this reliable information to the police. And the
\npolice too rummaged the whole of Madras, and came across
\nmany Pillays, big and small, but not one that was Pillay
\nVishambhar, not even half a Vishambhar; as for Satara’s
\nPurushottam Natekar, he also seemed to keep his identity
\nhidden in deep darkness; in Bombay a certain Professor
\nBhatt was found no doubt, but he was a harmless person and
\na loyalist, there was no likelihood of any secret society using
\nhim as a cover. Yet at the time of giving his evidence,
\nGossain, depending on what he had heard from Upen
\nearlier, offered such ring-leaders of conspiracy as the imaginary Vishambhar Pillay, etc., at the holy feet of Norton and
\nstrengthened the latter’s strange prosecution theory. With
\nregard to Bir Krishnajirao Bhao the police perpetrated a
\nhoax. They produced the copy of a telegram sent by some
\nGhose from the Manicktola Gardens to Krishnajirao Deshpande of Baroda. The people of Baroda did not know of the
\nexistence of any one answering to that name, but since the
\ntruthful Gossain had spoken of a Krishnajirao Bhao of
\nBaroda, then surely Krishnajirao Bhao and Krishnajirao
\nDeshpande must be the same person. And whether Krishna-
\njirao Deshpande existed or not, the letters mentioned the
\nname of our respected friend, Keshavrao Deshpande. Hence
\nKrishnajirao Bhao and Krishnajirao Deshpande are surely <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-317<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\none and the same. From which it followed that Keshavrao
\nDeshpande was a ringleader of the secret conspiracy. Mr.
\nNorton’s famous theory was based on such extraordinary
\ninference. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nTo believe Gossain one had to accept that it was at his
\nsuggestion that our solitary confinement was done away with
\nand we were ordered to stay together. He had said that the
\npolice had aranged it like this and kept him in the midst of
\nthe other accused with the intention of drawing out secret
\ninformation about the conspiracy. Gossain did not know that
\nhis new business was known to every one long before, when
\nhe started to ask questions about those who were engaged in
\nthe conspiracy, and the whereabouts of the branches of the
\nsecret society, about patrons and contributors, about those
\nwho would now be in charge of continuing the secret
\nactivities, etc. I have already given examples of the kind of
\nanswers he received. But most of Gossain’s words were false.
\nDr. Daly had told us that, by persuading Mr. Emerson, it
\nwas he who had brought about this change in our accommodation. Possibly Daly’s was the true version; afterwards
\non hearing about the change in arangements the police may
\nhave imagined this likely gain. Be it as it may, everyone,
\nexcepting me, was extremely pleased at the change. At that
\nperiod I was unwilling to be in the midst of a crowd, for my
\nspiritual life, sadhanā,<\/i> was proceeding at a rapid pace. I had
\ntasted a little of Equality, Non-attachment and Peace, but
\nthese states had not been yet fully stabilised. By being in
\ncompany, the pressure of other men’s thought-waves on my
\nunripe young ideas, this new state of being might suffer, or
\nbe even washed away. In fact, it did happen like that. Then I
\ndid not understand that for the fullness of my spiritual
\nexperience it was necessary to evoke opposite emotions,
\nhence the Inner Guide, antaryamin,<\/i> suddenly deprived me of
\nmy dear solitude, flung me into the stream <\/b> of violent <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-318<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\noutward activity. The rest of the group went wild with joy.
\nThat night the big room in which singers like Hemchandra
\nDas, Sachindra Sen, etc., were staying, most of the accused
\npersons collected there, and no one could sleep till two or
\nthree in the morning. The ring of laughter, the endless
\nstream of singing, all the pent-up stories began to flow like
\nswollen rivers during the rainy season. The silent prison
\nreverberated with noise and merriment. We fell asleep but
\nevery time we woke up we heard the laughter, the singing,
\nthe conversation going on as before. Towards the small
\nhours the stream thinned, the singers too fell asleep. Our
\nward was silent once again. <\/font><\/p>\n

\nPage-319<\/font><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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