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

weapon can slay it, no fire can burn it " The young men who heard him had become fearless of death and were ready to face the worst ordeal for the cause they were championing. But when the leader and fiery writer was himself sentenced to Imprisonment in this jail and saw its stone- walls, and had to faint one day under the grinding labour of running the oil-mill, which even two powerful bullocks could not go round easily, then the body avenged itself upon the soul by trampling it underfoot. His courage failed him and he could no longer bear the hardships of that labour. Again, it was not a question of a day or two. It was a prolonged agony of a life-time. To refuse to work meant added labour and increased agonies. In this dark despair, life cried hoarse to be spared that labour at any cost. What was the way out of it? Where was the outlet from the enclosing walls of these unbearable calamities? There was only one way and one gate. The way was fifth and the gate narrow. That was to report against one's fellow- conspirators. That board-"Say it out"-was ever hanging on the road and pointing to the gate. And who, do you thank, carried tales about this man's despair to the authorities? A friend and no one else. And that friend again, who had himself desired a similar escape ! The matter was reported by the gaoler to the authorities in Calcutta. At last. fine promises were made him in order to trap him completely in the net A drowning man is known to catch at a straw So our Bengali writer and preacher went in jail and fell To enact the drama, the gaoler one day brought in that jail the highest officer of the island. The political prisoners were busy going round the mall. The Officer came to the entrance of this man's cell. The man shouted, "a petition, Sir " The Officer echoed, "What do you want?" He proceeded a few paces, returned and awaited the prisoner. The latter knelt, folded his hands, and prayed. "Do what you will, Sir, but free me from these tortures; that is all I beg of you ." The Officer replied : "You may report to the goaler." The curtain was rung down on the scene, and the drama ended. The betrayal After the Officer had gone, the gaoler sent him ink and paper as pre-arranged. The man started reporting on the Calcutta Conspiracy Case. He gave all the information about it, right or wrong, true or false, as suited his purpose. Naturally, all the other persons involved in the Conspiracy regarded the action as a cruel betrayal. And the man himself had the conscience to feel that he was doing a bad act, though he was too enfeebled in mind to desist from it. He wrote a letter to his friend as follows’ “I can no longer bear the suffering. The only alternative to it is suicide. I attempted it, but dare not attempt it again. You may kill me as you have killed other betrayers of the cause before this. I will not blame you. I must propitiate the Officer by betraying you. I must give him all possible information in order to save myself from the tortures of the body. I have lost control over my mind.” He sent this strange epistle to his friend and passed the other letter, with the names and Information in it, to the jailor. On the third day he was taken off from the hard labour of turning the mill and given the lighter work of picking oakum. He was neither removed from his cell, nor let off from the prison.