मेरा आजीवन कारावास / माझी जन्मठेप (स्वातंत्र्यवीर सावरकर - काले पानी का ऐतिहासिक संस्मरण)

We provided the prisoners with books, slates, pencils and readers to begin with. There was yet another difficulty in our way. The jailor was sure to question them how these books had come to them. Many a prisoner had suffered punishment for keeping books and writing material with him. If a warder told that he had received the book from me, he was sure to lose his job or be sent back to work on the 'Kolu'. He was forbidden to talk with a political prisoner. What then of accepting a book from him? Therefore, when a warder went out on a holiday, the book had to be sent in with him as a gift from a rela- tive. So we spread the readers among prisoners in this jail. More than this difficulty there was another which we had to overcome and that was the reluctance of the prisoner himself. Whenever one asked him to begin reading and writing, the stock question that he put was, "What was the use of it?" If we dwelt on their intellectual benefit, or their national importance, it was out of his power to understand us. Again, Mr. Barrie was particularly cross with those who liked to read and write. And the prisoner had no desire to incur Mr. Barrie's displeasure. By no means. Still we tried to educate those who came in close contact with us; We offered him to teach English as soon as he had finished his Marathi; we showed him its advantage by pointing out that it would lead to some post associated with the office; that he would be a 'Munshi' or a clerk. That would mean an honour for him. Many prisoners learnt to read and write because that would lead them to that post. There were also a few who learnt the language for its own sake, because it was their mother-tongue, or it would enable them to read religious works in that language. There were also some among them who learnt to spell their rudiments after they had passed their youth, and only as a national call. All honour to them. How strenuous the work was you can imagine from the fact that we had to begin everything in that education from the very beginning. We had to teach them the A.B.C. of their vernacular alphabets; we had to take them through the formation of words through these alphabets; we had to plod on with them that they might remember them, write them and make them into simple sentences. And all this work had to be done secretly and regularly. We had to wheedle them into pursuing their lessons from day to day. Sometimes the prisoners would not accept the slates and pencils that we gave them free for writing their lessons; others refused to talk to us for fear we might open to" them the subject of learning. We gave them tips to induce them to read and write. We paid them in the currency of the Andamans. Rupees, annas and pies were not so important a currency with them as what they called "Sukka", that is, payment in quantities in tobacco. If we gave a prisoner two pinchfuls of tobacco he would bestow upon his teacher the favour of reading his lessons with him for fifteen to twenty minutes at the most. This heart-breaking work was hard to pursue from day to day, and my collaborators simply refused to go on with it after a few days' experience. This was a waste of time, energy and talent, as they put it to me. They were themselves graduates and double graduates and it was hard on them to be giving lessons in rudiments to ignorant, dull-headed, disinclined pupils like the thieves, dacoits, murderers, swindlers, and hardened criminals in this jail. While teaching them the three R's they had so many times to flatter them, and break their heads over them. Whenever this mood came over myself or other teachers, I