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

Those Hot Plains The windows of my compartment were always kept shut. Across the bars in another compartment was huddled up the party bound for the Andaman islands. They were all in an uproar on that side. Those were hot summer days. The heat of the Sun overhead was like that of a burning furnace. A marriage party going in that train would have found the journey unbearable. I was only a prisoner sent to transportation for life. How then must have I felt it? the plains all about us were exuding hot vapour, and correspondingly it was steaming hot in the train. And both vied, as it were, with the dreariness and burning heat of the heart within. My soul and body were oppressed by both. In this state of mind and body I found the train running at full speed through the Mogul territory on its way to Madras. In desperateness, I recalled to my mind the treck of prisoners in Russia marched in exile to the bleak regions of Siberia. Their miseries made me cry, “You have not yet experienced a fraction of them. This is not a mere matter of words. As thou sowest so shalt thou reap. And he alone will reap who had dared to sow”. The train was leaping across village after village, town after town, through gardens and forests, across the rivers and over the valleys, along the mountains, up hill and down dale like an maddened tigress carrying in its mouth the prey which was no other than myself. The train was delivering me to the Andamans with the rapidity of a lightening. Will it bring me back to my own country with the same speed? Will it bring me back at all? How can it bring me back and when? Vain imaginings these and obstinate questionings! But the mind that hopes against hope cannot escape them. In far off Siberia, many a prisoner dies with the name of dear Russia on his burning lips. So may I die far away from dear India, and in the Andamans breathing the last word-my motherland! The train arrived at Madras. I was taken down from my compartment and was kept under guard apart from my fellow prisoners in the train. An Officer had accompanied the train right through the journey. Between every two stations he would come to my compartment, talk to the Officer in it, have a look at me and go back. I thought he was to leave us now as we had reached Madras. He approached me now and wished me good-bye. He seemed to be overcome with feeling as he said, “ I do hope, my friend, you will be let off in the coming coronation ceremony at Delhi.” That was to be on December. I answered, “Thanks for your good wishes. My wounds are so raw that nothing can heal them. It would be folly for me to bank upon this hope.” The officer assured me t the contrary as of he was in the know of things. “Believe me; you will be free before long; good-bye. Nothing will efface from my mind the impression of this your dignified courage.” Other Officers also took leave of me in the same manner. Having heard all sorts of report about my behaviour at Marseilles, they had conjectured that, in the journey, I would prove a horrible nuisance to them, I would hate the Englishman as a devil, I would burn with rage against him. They took me naturally enough for a ruffian, a braggart and an indecent fellow-a veritable miscreant in short. But I gave them no trouble whatsoever. And they could pass me on safely to the Officers in Madras. At long last!