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.

The man had, at least, the honesty of feeling that he was doing a reprehensible act, and of acknowledging the fact. Two of his other partners in the act had parted company with their conscience. These found, in my coming to that prison, an opportunity of their life-time. To report everything about me to the jailor, to Invent stories for that purpose when truth had proved of no avail; anyhow to compass the end of redding themselves of the hardships of the prison-life, though they trembled in the act; to prove false to themselves-all this they achieved without the least compunction of the soul. So much were they lost to all sense of shame and decency. It was thus caught between these two inescapable alternatives. I continued my life here on the horns of a dilemma Whosoever reported against me at once became the favourite of the jailor, and got some facility or another in this prison. So to carry tales about me had become, with some of them, a regular and fashionable business. It was no surprise to me that mean and wretched fellows should ply this trade But that these decent men, coming from respectable families, should have stooped so low in order to make their lives easy, and to get some concessions, here and there, was, Indeed, a surprise and degradation beyond my imagining But they did it, making hay whale the sun shone ! Every facility that they had won by this means was an added burden to my suffering in the jail. But that story I shall unfold, as I go on, in this narrative. The note sent on to me had a reference to all Intrigues of prison-life. One section was reporting against the other, and the warning was conveyed that I should be on my guard against the traitors. The letter was couched in a spirit of sincerity and earnestness. I, therefore, decided that until I had convinced myself of the facts, I was to cherish no suspicion in my mind about those who, in the past, had proved themselves bold, fearless, sincere and devoted servants of their country. And even if I knew that they had fallen now, I was to cast no aspersion upon their character and on their former service. The only thing I was to do was to walk warily in my contacts with them and throughout my stay in this prison. Pardon me, please; enough of it' A day or two after this incident, I saw a crowd of prisoners, excluding political prisoners, gathered in the fore-yard of my shawl. Two hundred in number, they were employed in the work of peeling, breaking and cutting to pieces the coconut fruit gathered, in a heap, before them. From his sequestered place on the third floor of my crawl, the Pathan warder was looking on with eager eyes. He felt a hungering for a coconut or two from that heap. His mouth watered to drink the water and to eat the luscious sweet Inside it. His appetite was whetted by what he saw right under his nose He was a favourite with his master, and who will not fear him? Who dares deny him what he asks? The Pathan went down into the court yard, and slapping a prisoner in the face, charged him of eating a coconut. "Look at his mouth, it is too full of it," he fired By this threat at the outset, he had created an atmosphere, as he felt, favourable to his game. For he was confident that none could say no to him, if he were now to ask for the choicest fruit from that heap. The king of fruit is known in the producer's parlance as "Dahi-

Naral"-that is a coconut fruit full of curd-milk-sweet Inside it. Presently, he saw the fruit secreted in the hand of a Madrasi man who was a recent arrival in that prison. Straightaway my Pathan warder went up to him and said, "O, you scoundrel, hand over that fruit to me." But the Madrasi man seemed to be recalcitrant. He was the most notorious dacoit in his part of the country He was a Tamil and, before being sent here for transportation, he had seen life in many a prison and many tames in his own province He was sentenced here for only ten years' imprisonment which he treated as a trifle. He did not know Hindusthani and could very well put off the importunate warder by pretending not to understand him He faced up to him and ejaculated "Ille, Ille"-meaning that he had no fruit with him. That was his peculiar way of putting off any one who happened to press him He had secured the particular fruit by palming off an anna worth of good tobacco to the prisoner whose business it was to break the coconuts. How can then a hardened criminal like him part with his booty to this Pathan Warder? But the haughty warder was sure in his self-importance, that a mere Hindu dare not deny him what he had asked. The warder abused the Madrasi prisoner and ordered him to part with the coconut forthwith The Tamil man at first proceeded on the principle of discretion being the better part of valour. Piteously he wailed, "I have not it, surely, I have not it", pretending ignorance and feigning madness. The Pathan was furious. He flew into a rage. As the quarrel was with a Hindu, it soon turned into a question of religion, and fanaticism put the fat into the fire. He showered abuse after abuse upon his victim. He called him names. "Kafir, scoundrel, let me uproot his tuft of hair', were some of his choicest epithets. "A Hindu, a villain, yes, I must pull it out", so he went on And he put his hand to the Tamil man's sacred tuft of hair. Being ignorant of Hindusthani, he seemed to be confounded by the Pathan's ejaculations and outburst. He thought that the Pathan was asking him to do some good piece of work, and that he was angry because the latter was not doing it. But when the Pathan treed to wrest the fault from him, tile Madrasi prisoner came to close grips with him. It was a veritable wrestle and tug of war between the two None of them cried out halt after it had begun. For both of them had fastened their attention on the bone of contention which was the "curd-milk-coconut".

The whole crowd was enjoying the scene and the Pathan was having the worst of it. The crowd began to titter and Jeer, and the game was getting too hot for my warder. Instantly, he lifted his bludgeon and gave a heavy blow on the Tamil man's head. He also wrenched his turft of hair and had almost uprooted it. The Pathan kept on raining blow after blow, and showering abuse after abuse 'Kafir, scoundrel" was the constant refrain. All of a sudden, the scene changed The prisoner had lost his temper. Without uttering a word and putting his hand straight to his antagonist's beard, he lifted him bodily off the ground and dashed him down in the dust. The Pathan measured his full length upon the earth and the Hindu prisoner sat firmly on his chest. He planted his knee upon it, and gave slap after slap Into his face. The crowd watched the fight with gaping eyes. It did not raise any alarm, for the Pathan man was extremely unpopular with one and all of them. I was watching the whole show from my room, and I was nearly bursting into laughter. The Fez which the warder wore, his turban thereon, all lay in the dust on the ground. Muttering within his laps, the Tamil prisoner was stall belabouring him. He had held fast his beard, and was slapping him in the face. The Pathan broke down completely. No more abusive words danced on his lips. The coconut? There was no more of it.

Instead was the rider belabouring his mule under the stride. Two or three minutes had thus gone and the Pathan, while the slaps were stall hot in his face, begged of his opponent to halt. "Enough, enough, my man, enough, I beg of you, enough." These were the words that trembled on his laps, so done up was he by the hard drubbing that the Madrasi had given him. But this exasperated him still more. Showering abuse for abuse, the prisoner rained fisticuffs on the head of the Pathan. It was the dialect that had made confusion worse confounded. The Pathan had said in Hindusthani-Maph karo-pardon me. The Madrasi caught only the first letter of it Ma, which in Tamil meant mother He took it as the most insulting abuse that one man can utter to another. And so he attached the Pathan all the more vehemently, never understanding that the fellow was all along begging for mercy. "Ma", "Ma", replied the prisoner, and at every repetition felled him with bludgeoning blows. At last the inevitable had happened. The petty officer had arrived, the crowd rushed on the scene, and the combatants were separated. The Madrasi kept on gibbering-saheb-hum-tum-mar-with gesticulations, which Indicated that if the Pathan were to take the complaint to the gaoler, he will not stop short of throttling him. The Pathan is constitutionally a bully and a coward; the threat of the Madrasi, one better than him, completely unnerved him. Again he had broken the law himself, for he had left his post on the top-floor, and gone down into the crowd to purloin a coconut That must go against him. So he ended the quarrel there, and, adjusting his dishevelled hair and turban returned to his place on the top-floor of my building. So was his greed satisfied. For three or more of the sweet coconuts, he had received blow after blow on his mouth and had to swallow them quietly.

"What's the matter? Why this hulloballoo?" I asked him. The warder replied haughtily, as if I had not witnessed the scene, "O, Sir, there was a man there, the rascal that he is, who wanted to steal the curd-milk- coconut". I gave him a sound thrashing." "Well done". I answered, "a thief, and, at that, one who would thieve again, and also in prison! He deserved what he got". The Pathan and myself knew well who the thief was, and who gave the thrashing.

End of Chapter VIII

CHAPTER IX EARLY HISTORY OF THE POLITICAL PRISONERS The Cult of the Bomb The first batch of political prisoners sent to the Andamans consisted of Bengalis Involved in the Manik Tola Bomb Case, and two gentlemen from Maharashtra, namely Mr. Ganesh Savarkar and Mr. Wamanrao Joshi. Soon after them came another batch of six persons from Bengal Implicated in the trial for political dacoity. Of all these, three from Bengal and two from Maharashtra happened to be sentenced to transportation for life Others, who were all of them Bengalis, had been sentenced for three to ten years' Imprisonment. When I reached the Andamans there were the Bengali persons I have mentioned, and four editors of Swarajya from Allahabad with seven to ten years' Imprisonment against them. The latter were sentenced for sedation and treason against the Government and, not like us, for revolutionary crime against the State. Some of these editors were deadly against all revolution and had not even understood its theory or known its practice Their association with us had this advantage, that they had begun to know both the theory and practice of revolutionary movement and had begun to sympathise with it. I must be satisfied with this general statement today for I do not recollect now the trials in which these men were Involved, their names, and their opinions on the Issues in question I remember another being there in addition to those I have already named. As the majority of the first batch were Bengalis, we were all, in prison- parlence, known as Bengalis Later on, the number was swelled by an influx from the Punjab in their hundreds, and several frown other provinces as well So we came to be designated now by the hybrid name-the Bomb- makers. Politicals or Men of the Tongue Those who had never heard the name-political prisoner-could not understand what it really signified. Thousands of such prisoners could, on the other hand, form a distinct notion of bomb-throwing and hence the generic name of bomb-throwers by which all of us were recognised in the jail at Andaman. Whenever Mr. Barrie had to send for any one of us or all of us, he would order the Jamadar in the following words "Go and fetch Bomb- golawalla No 7" or "Go, and gather quickly all the bomb- throwers and shut them up." All understood that order and did accordingly. When I had entered the place, I enlightened my fellow-countrymen on the distinction between the bomb-thrower and the political prisoner. told them we were not charged with the crime of bomb throwing. We were charged and sentenced for agitation to fight the Government, and win and establish Swaraj. Some of us no doubt used pistols and bombs and rifles, but others fought only with their pens. Many had not even seen a bomb; what then of using it ! What we all of

us, exercised most, was our tongue You should, therefore, call us men of the tongue, if not men of the pen. Surely the appellation 'bomb-thrower' does not fit us. To this, my disciples answered humorously, "Tell us then the right name for you, we shall adopt it." "We are rightly called political prisoners. If you cannot easily utter it, then abridge it if you please in your vernacular as Raj-Kaidi." This word was picked up quickly, and they could pronounce it easily. Henceforward "political prisoner" became our common designation. Mr. Barrie did not welcome the change. He never put up with it. If any one addressed us as 'Babu', Mr. Barrie would shout at him, "What Babu, who is Babu here? They are all prisoners, you fool." Mr. Barrie, of course, distinguished between prisoners who knew to read and write and those who did not He had no objection to call the former 'Babus.' But he resented that name being bestowed upon us How then will he allow others to call us political prisoners? 'D' Ticket "You are not political prisoners"-that was Mr. Barrie's slogan to the end of the chapter. If any prisoner pronounced that name in his presence, the Sahib would go at him, "Ah! What political prisoner? There is none here of that kind. They are all of a common class like you. Ticket No D marks the so-called politicals, as it brands you all and the worst among you." The letter D signified 'dangerously.' And the badge that we wore had this letter inscribed on it. The clothes we were given to wear also had badges with that letter. With all Mr. Barrie's objection to these appellations, from the first day to the last, I came to be known as "Bada Babu " Even Mr. Barrie, at tames, would say, "Go, Havildar and fetch here the Bada Babu No 7 " As my fellow-countrymen in that prison learnt to distinguish between ordinary prisoners and political prisoners, they all called us by that name. The word had the smell of Swaraj and that was why Mr. Barrie hated the word. On the other hand, I desired to stamp the word Swaraj upon their hearts. So I particularly stressed the point that, when referring to us, they should all mention us as political prisoners and, in course of time, that word became a current coin in the terminology of the Silver Jail. An offering to a cruel deity(A sop to Cerberus) The political prisoners in the Andamans, before my arrival there, were all put together in one crawl. They had one Pathan warder to watch over them. The hard upper covering of the coconut fruit was broken into pieces, dried in the sun and was given to the prisoners to pick out threads from them. 'Picking oakum' is the technical term for this kind of hard labour in the prison This labour was hard enough but was not so exhausting and soul- racking as the grinding mill to which they were yoked later on. Ordinary prisoners who could hardly spell the three 'R's were employed in this prison for light desk work and they at once became 'Babus ' But political prisoners were shut out from that work and given hard labour the kind of which their hands had never done. Surely they knew better the art of reading and writing than the prisoners who had hardly spelt its

rudiments. Perhaps, this was their very disqualification for clerkship within the prison- door. Though picking oakum was a task hard enough, its tedium was relieved by the company of prisoners working in the same crawl. An educated man desires company and association with his equals and, therefore, this mode of working was a solace to him. One or two of these prisoners were ailing and milk was provided for them. It was given to the Pathan warder as an offering to God. And the God -the Pathan-on that account was less cruel to them. All these factors made prison-life for political prisoners less endurable than it is today. My elder brother was in the same chawl. Months passed on in this manner when a high official from Calcutta came to the Andamans to Inspect the prison. When he saw the political prisoners picking oakum in the same tenement and in one another's company, he was, of course, put out by it He passed severe strictures upon local officers for ordering things in this manner These men, he said, were not ordinary criminals-the thieves, the robbers, the murderers, the dacoits and others of that fry. They were entirely submissive and, therefore, praise- worthy men. But political prisoners! They are the worst prisoners in the world and they must be treated in this prison in a way that will break their spirit and completely demoralise them This high policy the official from Calcutta had Impressed thoroughly on the mind of the rude, matter-of-fact, soldierly Officers prison-life for today. The Oil-Mill And everything changed since that time in this prison. A new era had begun. The political prisoners were split up, and put in different crawls, and one in each cell of that shawl If their talk with another excited the slightest suspicion, handcuffs were put on them, and they were subjected to all kinds of punishment. On the tank for a bath or in a row for their meal, if they merely signed to one another to Inquire after health, the sentence for that infringement was to keep a man standing with handcuffs on, for seven days. And to crown it all, the sentence of picking oakum was substituted by work round the grinding oil mall. Yes, they had determined to break our spirit and to demoralise us. So they gave us that hard work to do for two months continuously, then one month on picking oakum, again the grinding work on the mall. We were to be yoked like animals to the handle that turned the wheel. Hardly out of bed, we were ordered to wear a strap of cloth, were shut up in our cells and made to turn the wheel of the oil-mill Coconut pieces were put in the empty and hollow space to be crushed by the wheel passing over them, and its turning became heavier as the space was fuller. Twenty turns of the wheel were enough to drain away the strength of the strongest cooly and the worst, brawny badmash. No dacoit past twenty was put on that work. But the poor political prisoner was fit to do it at any age. And the doctor in charge ever certified that he could do it! It was the medical science of the Andamans that had upheld the doctor ! So the poor creature had to go half the round of the wheel by pushing the handle with his hands, and the other half was

completed by hanging on to it with all his might. So much physical strength had to be expended on crushing the coconut pieces for oil. Youths of twenty or more, who in their lives had not done any physical labour, were put upon that labour. They were all educated young men of delicate constitution. From six to ten in the morning they were yoked to the wheel which they turned round and round till their breath had become heavy. Some of them had fainted many tames during the process. They had to sit down for sheer exhaustion and helplessness. Ordinarily all work had to be stopped between ten and twelve. But this 'Kolu' as the oil-mill labour was called, had to continue throughout. The door was opened only when meal was announced The man came in, and served the meal in the pan and went away and the door was shut. If after washing his hands one were to wipe away the perspiration on his body, the Jamadar-the worst of gangsters in the whole lot-would go at him with loud abuse. There was no water for washing hands. Drinking water was to be had only by propitiating the Jamadar. While you were at Kola, you felt very thirsty. The waterman gave no water except for a consideration which was to palm off to him some tobacco in exchange. If one spoke to the Jamadar his retort was, "A prisoner is given only two cups of water and you have already consulted three. Whence can I bring you more water? From your father?" We have put down the retort of the Jamadar in the decent language possible. If water could not be had for wash and drink, what can be said of water for bathing?

Must finish your quota

What of bath? Even of our usual meal it was the same story. The dinner being served, the door of the prison-cell was locked; and the Jamadar was upon us to see, not if we had dined well, but if we had not already begun our round of the grinding oil-mill ! He paraded through the shawl, halting before each room and announcing to its inmates in bad and threatening words that, come what may, the usual quota had to be completed by evening. He added that otherwise the prisoner would get a sound thrashing from him and some additional punishment from his superior. When we heard this shouting, while we were just at our meat, the morsel in our hand would not go down, and we had to stop eating all at once. For every one of us had seen how a man who had failed to do his quota had a belabouring of kicks and fisticuffs from the august Jamadar, in addition to his bludgeoning him with the stick. The anticipation of this terror took away all appetite, though we were, all of us, indeed, very hungry. We got up, and began our work of pushing the handle and going round the mill like a yoked buffalo, with perspiration dripping down from our face, and its beads falling into the dish we were carrying in the other hand. I have seen prisoners working in this pitiable condition-swallowing, anyhow, the food in their plate, and running round the mill at the same time. The claims of hunger could not be put off while the demand of labour was equally excruciating. The work of the 'Kolu' had to be carried on in this condition till five o'clock in the evening with the hurried meal preceding it, the mode whereof I have already described. Out of a hundred, only one with a callous body could hardly complete his dally quota of thirty pounds of cocoanut oil. The rest took two days, at the least, to crush so much oil out of dried coconut pulp. The novitiates, the simpletons, the Inexperienced, and the honest were the greatest sufferers in the process. They always got the severest beating from the Jamadar,

when they poured out before him the quantity of oil they had crushed from the substance; and they went back to their cells with tears in their eyes and groaning with pain. I see their weeping faces vividly even to this day! The 'Kolu' work at night In spite of this, if any day none of them could finish the quota allotted to them for the day, Mr. Barrie would come upon the scene, when they were all sitting down for their expected evening meal, and announce to the assembly that there would be no grab for them, as they had not done the work; and none would get anything to eat till he had finished his quota. Imagine a prisoner rising with the day; beginning his work at six; tolling at it till eleven; and continuing it without rest till 5 o'clock in the evening; with the morning meal half-finished and hurriedly gulped down or hardly eaten at all; and you will realise the cruelty and injustice of this punishment, if you can at all picture it to yourself. For it beggared description. Some forty or fifty persons could not go through their work with all their will to finish it. But Mr. Barrie would not realise the hardship and the harshness of the imposition He would bring his chair in the shawl, sit upon it, and would see the slackers, as he imagined these fifty helpless creatures to be, going on with their work far into the night. The rest of the prison was, of course, closed for work at night, and no one dared report against Mr. Barrie that this part of the Chawl was being treated at night to this grinding piece of work. If any one dared he was sure to be falsely charged for some offence and put to trouble. Everywhere was the stillness of night; but here the mill creaked on till 8 or 9 P. M. In the meanwhile, Mr. Barrie dozed in his chair; woke up at intervals, his mouth full of abuse, and cursing the labourers that they had not yet finished their day's work." Woe be to them", he would exclaim, "punish them now; do not reserve it for the morrow; cane them, Jamadar, within an inch of their lives; the scoundrels are idlers they are slackers, no mercy on them." And presently he would doze again and snore. Pretext of ailment None was spared, among political prisoners, from the rack of that Inhuman toil. Most of them were unaccustomed to any kind of physical labour; the best part of them were college youths; some had not turned sixteen or seventeen; they were tender in age and body. But they were forced, for months on end, to do this grinding work-Kolu. Their tortures knew no bounds. Among them many had fallen ill, and preferred death to this work. As they became worse, they were declared to be feigning illness. If their bodies burned with high fever, they were shut in their own cells and were never taken for treatment to the prisoner hospital, for they were all "honourable men"- political prisoners ! The thief, the dacoit, the cut-throat had his bed in the prison hospital but not the poor political prisoner! That was the ethics of prison-life at Port Blair ! Fever, motion, vomiting were obvious diseases. But not so, head-ache, heart-ache, stomach-ache and heavy breathing! If political prisoners showed such symptoms, then the diagnosis was

invariably that they were feigning! And the reason given was-they were shirkers. The most hardened of convicts in this prison knew drugs that would make them vomit, pass motions, and even to burn with high fever. And they would use them cleverly when they desired a transfer from the prison-bed to the hospital-cot; no doubt about their feigning in order to avoid work. But if the prisoners preferred 103 to 104 degrees of high temperature to their work on the oil mall, then the fault was not of the prisoner but of the inhuman torture that was such work. And to such racking toil was a political prisoner yoked as soon as he had crossed into the prison ! And worse stall, if he really fell ill as the effect of his work, he was sent mercilessly back to it with the reason that he was only feigning it. To such kind of soul- racking labour was my elder brother yoked. And he was the first to be yoked to it, because he belonged to the first batch of political prisoners transported to the Andamans. An experiment to tame him My brother was suffering from hemicrany as a chronic complaint even while he was free. The hardships of prison-life, physical and mental, with the added work of the grinding mill, had not subdued him, but had made him fierce and fearless. Not a word had escaped his lips about his fellow-prisoners, no piece of Information could thus be wrung out of him, and he never prayed for any leniency from the authorities. That was why Mr. Barrie was persistent in his efforts to 'convert' him, though he had no scruples to treat all political prisoners as if they were animals in his menagerie. In this plight and as a result of Mr. Barrie's coaxings, one day the hemicrany came down upon him with a vengeance. As the day went up with my brother's work round the grinding mall, his headache also pursued him with an increasing pain. He could not bear the heat of the sun, and yet the sweating work had to be carried on, for the Jamadar was ever behind him shouting "Crush, crush, grand on at the oil- mill, don't relax; for I know nothing but to get the work done. Go on." Overborne by this, my brother petitioned to the Superintendent on his rounds that he was suffering from a severe attack of hemicrany. The Superintendent said that it was not his business to attend to him, and the doctor should be sent for. The doctor was an Indian and would say, when he did not find the patient suffering from fever, that there was nothing wrong with him. He directed that the patient should be referred to the jailor. The thermometer, of course, did not register fever. And there was no other test there to detect hemicrany. Hence it must be feigning, especially so with a political prisoner like Ganesh Savarkar. I alone can say who is ill The doctor realised the untruth of his statement. But he was more afraid of Mr. Barrie than of lying. For he knew that the former would constantly goad him in these words:-"Doctor, you know but too well that you are a Hindu and these political prisoners are Hindus. There is no knowing when they will let you down. If any one sees you talking to them without my permission, he may report you to the authorities. So, please,

be careful. If you care for your job you must not say anything about them, do anything for them; you hold a degree but I have more experience than you. I know who feign illness and who do not; so that, be guided by me in these matters. When I say a man is well, he is well; when I say a man is ill, he is ill. Understand me, will you?" He said this as if lightly; and, smiling to himself, he went forward. Once, an hospital assistant realised the pitiable case of my brother and could not contain himself. My brother had severe pain in the head, and the doctor saw him dashing it against the prison wall, and yet carry on his grinding work uninterruptedly. The doctor came up to him and told him that he was removing him to the hospital as an observation case. He asked him to take up his bed and proceed. My brother was making ready to depart, when, on a sudden, Mr. Barrie confronted him, dashing his stick upon the floor. He accosted the Jamadar gruffy, "Where is this bomb-thrower going?" The Jamadar shivered all over, and said, "It is under the doctor's orders, Sir, that I am taking him to the hospital for observation." "Why the hell, did you not ask me? Who is the wretched doctor to give the law here?" Mr. Barrie's voice went like an echo and a thunder throughout the whole building. "Take him back to work", he ordered, "I shall take care of the doctor. I must rate you as well; you, to take him out without my orders?" And he saw the patient back into his cell and at work again. He had the door locked before he went away. The doctor, strictly speaking, was not under the gaoler but under the Superintendent of that jail. But the Hindu jailor and his Hindu myrmidons took great care that no news about the political prisoners reached the ears of the Superintendent As a sequel, the doctor had to eat his words; he apologised to the jailor, and solemnly resolved never more to interfere with the political prisoners, and did not take a single patient from them to the hospital without the permission of the Superintendent. For all others the hospital remained an open door. Prisoners with ten years' sentence against them, those who had broken open the prison itself , had free access to it under any pretext of illness. Permission was never denied to them. It was for the doctor to decide if he would keep the patient or discharge him. Of course, the jailor had no voice in that decision. But, for political prisoners, the hospital ever remained a closed door. With hemicrany and the hard labour of the grinding mill, my brother felt dead-tired by the time he had finished it, and delivered his quantum of oil to the blessed Jamadar. Sweated and exhausted, he tottered to his cell and threw himself at full length on the wooden plank of his bed in that prison, where he groaned the whole night for the pain all over his body. The day dawned again; hemicrany, the Jamadar, the insult to the Indian doctor and the tortures of the oil-mill, stood like grim spectres before him Weeks, months he had spent in this dire condition, and they were to be his inevitable lot, all his life.

Enough of this life

Who can describe the suffering-these agonies of mind and body? I may give you an instance, however, to point the moral. Of all the hardships of prison-life in the Silver Jail of the Andamans-gruelling work, scanty food and clothing, occasional thrashing and others-none was so annoying and disgusting as its provision for urinals and lavatories. The prisoners had to control the demands of nature, of hours together, for want of these arrangements in the cell itself. Morning, noon and evening-these were the only hours

when prisoners were let off for this purpose and at stated time only. It was an outrage to ask the Jamadar for this convenience at any other moment than the stipulated hour The prisoners were locked in their cells at six or seven o'clock in the evening and the lock was opened only after six the next morning. A sort of clay-pot was given them to use it for that purpose during the night. As I have already told you, the prison is called Cellular Jail, because the prisoners in that jail were confined each in a separate, solitary cell. During twelve hours of the night, the warders insisted that the prisoner shall have no occasion to ease himself. The pot was so diminutive in size that one could not discharge into it even once during the night. As for nature's call, one had to go down on his knees to the Jamadar to let him out The warder may or may not take the call seriously. He may be reluctant himself or he may fear the Officer. The prisoner had, therefore, to check it till the morning. If the warder relaxed and carried the matter to the Jamadar, the Jamadar would severely rate the convict for the call at such an odd hour. He would severely reprimand the warder also for having heard the prisoner. He would or would not report to the doctor as his fancy or memory may guide him! The doctor's report on the ailment was never made, or made only in one case out of a hundred. That report had to go to Mr. Barrie and Mr. Barrie would take action upon it at his own sweet will. Imagine the prisoner's condition during the night and during this process of red-tape, particularly when the call was not normal but an abnormal and sudden ailment ! In the morning, Mr. Barrie would sit in judgement upon it, rebuke sternly the warder and the Jamadar for their lapse of duty. When he brayed in this fashion there was no answering him. The prisoner was also cross-examined by Mr. Barrie. And if the former said that he could not help the call of nature, Mr. Barrie turned round upon him fiercely with the ejaculation, "Why the devil did you have it?" And if the wretched creature had the courage to say, "I got it because I got it", the Jamadar would give a slap in the face and scold him for giving such an insolent answer. Usually the prisoner was let off only with this cannonade of words. But Mr. Barrie's particular kindness to the prisoner always ended in an order to put him immediately on the grinding mill! A pinch of Tobacco In this unbearable state of mind, some prisoners found it impossible to control the call of nature and answered it on the floor of their cells. The cell was eight by ten feet, and the prisoner had to sleep with his head near the nuisance he had committed. As soon as the lock was opened for the day, he had to persuade the sweeper to clean the room of the filth. He promised him the much desired tobacco in return. It was well if the scavenger agreed to do so. Otherwise he would cry out for the Jamadar and break the fact to him The Jamadar kicked the prisoner and rained fisticuffs on him if he was meek enough to bear them. If he resisted, the Jamadar instantly took him to Mr. Barrie and lodged complaint against him. The complaint was that the prisoner had dirtied the room. Mr. Barrie passed orders that the prisoner was to clean the room himself or was to be put in the stocks for three to four days. Standing in the stocks meant continuous stoppage of urine and secretion, compulsorily so for four or five hours on end. The sentence was executed between six to ten in the morning, and from twelve to five in the afternoon, during which the prisoner had to stand with chains on hand which were fastened to the

top above him. During this period he was not to be let off for either of the two functions. This hardship all had to bear equally but the stringency of it was felt more by the political prisoners than by others. For whether they worked or not during the day, they were in solitary confinement all along. So during the day, as also at night, to answer the call of nature was prevented in their case as it could not be prevented in the case of other prisoners. Betimes, they had to relieve themselves either on the floor or on the side-wall of their cells. The other prisoners felt neither compunction nor shame about it. They would let themselves off in the face of the passer-by and roar into laughter for doing it. But the political prisoners could not be so brazen-faced. It was a trial to them, when, inspire of themselves, they could not help answering it either in the room or on the wall or right in the public eye The jail regulations condemned as a crime what was simply a function of the human body without making decent provision to discharge it decently. The jail punished the act, as it had banned from its precincts its other needs like wholesome food and decent clothing. It considered all the three as useless luxuries. Ethics of the Andamans My elder brother had to suffer terribly for the perpetration of the crime. And he was given the alternative to pick oakum by way of relief. And he contracted dysentery. He had gripping pain in the stomach as one of its symptoms. The pain and the sensation were acute after each meal. But once the door was locked in the morning, it was opened only for the evening meals Other patients were removed to the hospital for the treatment of the disease. And they could ease themselves comfortably-if comfort that be called-in that place. But a political prisoner was an exception to the rule, till he was entirely bed- ridden by the ailment. When in his cell, the pot that was furnished him was also equally ailing ! The doctor, unless the ailment was acute. could not certify removal. So he had the hell of his life in that sickness. My brother informed the warder and the Jamadar of his acute ailment. But it took two days to reach the ears of the doctor in charge. The sickness had aggravated into diarrhoea. The badly boiled rice made the complaint stall more acute and persistent. Add to it the work of packing oakum and close confinement. So he had to discharge it all over the room. And when the evening revealed it, he had to bear all the abuse about it. The matter was exposed all over the prison, additional punishment followed with disgrace to crown it all. To avoid it all, my bother covered the nuisance under a heap of rubbish in that room and when he was released in the evening for removing the rubbish, he removed the nuisance along with it and swept the room clean Whenever he was put in the stocks and hands were manacled, he had to go for days together without the function But diarrhoea and dysentery could not be put off. So he had to do the double function standing in the stocks and was punished for it. This was not an occasional trial with him as with many other political prisoners. It had become his ordeal for years. He had to stay and sleep in that dirtied room and in that wretched condition of his body all along, and throughout the many years of his stay in the Cellular Jail.

The cattle yoked to the cart or the plough are treated better in this respect than the human material in this prison-house of ours. It is considered a cruelty to obstruct them as they obstruct us here at night and during the period of close confinement. A political prisoner in this jail was worse off than the cattle under the yoke. He did not enjoy the freedom of movement that the dumb-driven animals enjoyed under the whip of their drivers. The ethics of prison-life in the Andamans condemned asking for such freedom between twelve and six during the day and in the night that followed it We petitioned to the Commissioner of prisons against it. But Mr. Barrie interfered, and deposed that the complaint was a fake. He brought In as his witness the Jamadar of the place and piteously moaned, "Look here, Sir, ask him if I treat them so badly. It is all a fabrication against me; it is their trump-up to damn me; they lodge this complaint to disgrace me." The Commissioner and the other Officers with him exonerated Mr. Barrie and warned the complainants not to make such allegations against an honest servant of the Crown. Why should political prisoners, of all others, file such a petition? Why should not the rest make any grievance of it? The fact of it was that these did not suffer that way; they did not suffer as much; and, last, they bore it meekly for fear that Mr. Barrie might belabour them with kicks and caning, and detail them for the horrible grind of the oil-mill,-the eternal rack of the 'Kolu'! So they dared not utter a word against Mr. Barrie. The Right of Nature We had to take up the matter, at long last, with the Government of India that this political right be secured to us against all injunctions. We got the primitive right of answering the calls of nature established in our favour by carrying an agitation till the grievance had reached the Home Member of that Government. How we achieved it will be narrated during the course of the story. When the Home Secretary happened to visit the place and went about inspecting the prison-cells, some of us took the complaint before him. As usual Mr. Barrie protested, when one Mr. Nanda Gopal-a Punjabi and fellow-prisoner -challenged him on the spot and offered to take the Home Member round the cells that he may see them for himself and be convinced. He added, "You have only to step in, Sir, and smell the corners of our rooms and be assured if the arrangement in our prison for urinals and lavatories does suffice or help us in our lock up in these cells. Your nose will be our best witness. " Although this outrageous language got for him the rebuke of silence from the authorities, and although the political renegades among us sought to flatter Mr. Barrie by denouncing his language and challenging it as unbecoming and insolent in the extreme, the Home Member caught the force of it and severely remonstrated with Mr. Barrie for his prison-management. Thenceforward this disgusting practice had almost ended. At least it ceased to be harassing as before, and no more so rigorously enforced. It reminded me constantly of the text of the Yoga-Sutra-the disgust for the body going along with attraction for the same in another. Nanda Gopal himself had an experience similar to my brother's. Hence Mr. Barrie had condemned his outburst as an act of malice against himself.

The First Strike The series of endless hardships described above ended in a manner that came as a surprise to the jail authorities. The political prisoners reacted to it each in his own ways. The general trend among them was to obey and do the allotted work as far as it lay in them to put up with it But when the discipline and its rigid enforcement had become too harsh, well-nigh impossible to endure, then the question that faced one and all was "to live or not to live." It was no longer an academic discussion, no mere philosophising, but a stern reality. And it effected two extremes in a different way The one extreme was but to practise abject flattery and be relieved of it. Among these were those who had lost heart and the control of their minds. Safety first safety at all cost had become an obsession with them. At the other end were those who, suppressed and downcast as they were by all the vigours of their prison-life, were now out to fight it out to the finish, and never submit at the cost of self-respect and honour. Fight, fight to the last ditch. That had become a slogan with them. There were those in the centre whom their inner voice had told not to seek death but live, so long as you can live without being false to your principles, and work up politically to remove the grievance. At the same tame, if life with self-respect became an impossibility, they would, of course, prefer death to it and without a moment's hesitation. I have already described to you the type which chose for safety at any cost. The other which went on for fight, and those who counselled discrimination, resolved to join hands and go on passive resistance against the unendurable vigours and humiliations of our prison existence. As a first step they were to refuse work that involved hard labour. And it materialised in the political prisoners' non-co-operation with the |'Kolu"-the grinding mill that had ground down their lives. This was the first strike in the history of the Silver Jail. It was a strike on a small scale, but the very act was regarded as an impossibility under the stern regime of Mr. Barrie, and its beginning created a stir and excitement in the prison-world the like of which it had not witnessed before. Mr. Barrie regarded it as a great personal insult, and was infuriated by it. Poor Mr. Barrie ! This was but the beginning of the end. And the insult was nothing compared with what he had to face in the sequel. The Demi-God of Port Blair To all other prisoners and occasionally to us also Mr. Barrie would sometime harangue as follows:- "Listen, ye prisoners. an the Universe there is one God, and He lives in the Heavens above. But in Port Blair there are two: one, the God of Heaven, and another, the God of Earth. Indeed, the God of Earth in Port Blair-that is myself. The God of Heaven will reward you when you go above. But this God of Port Blair will reward

you here and now. So, ye prisoners behave well. You may complain to any superior against me, my word shall prevail; I hold my own. Mind ye well." One day to make a display of his power before us and to show us how they all trembled in his presence, as also to dazzle us by the display, Mr. Barrie arranged all prisoners before him in a row of two each, and while the petty officers and jamadars were standing in front of it, he suddenly rushed into the seated line and asked a petty officer if it was day or night. The petty officer, new to his task, replied that it was day. Seeming to fly into a rage, Mr. Barrie affirmed that it was night. The petty officer said it was day, and Mr. Barrie persisted it was night. Not content with the duck, Mr. Barrie suddenly turned to his trusted servant and questioned, "Well, Jamadar, is it day or night now? I am sure it is complete dark and night." The Jamadar replied, "Yes, Sir, it is night." Mr. Barrie remarked significantly, "You speak aright, but you will realise that you don't tutor your petty officer aright Well, take care, let not this happen again." And, indeed, the trusted servant of "Barrie Baba" never failed to improve upon the lesson. A Sight to God The man, who ruled the prison with an iron hand, who made the prisoners tremble in their shoes, could not bear the slight to his authority by political prisoners like us. It is no surprise that he was terribly annoyed by it. Up to that time even the Jamadar dared pour fowl abuse upon us, and Mr. Barrie had instigated him to do so And the Jamadar and his lieutenant slapped any one of us in the face if he was found talking or had not finished his day's work. And if he happened to report the incident to the jailor, the latter would laugh outright in his lace. The same political prisoners had now turned against the Pathan warder to the ex-tent of returning word for word, abuse for abuse, and slap for slap. Two of our political prisoners, who had stopped all work, did not spare Mr. Barrie himself from such humiliation. They began to show him up as he had never been shown up before. Mr. Barrie exposed I give here one example of how they made fun of him. Mr. . . . . . . . . had been sentenced to ten years' imprisonment in this jail. He came from a respectable family in the Punjab, and was himself a man of education and culture. For the first time that he was put on the grinding mill, the gentleman entered his cell, did the work in a leisurely fashion till ten o'clock, and came down for dinner pot upon the hour. The prisoners put on the grinding mill were not allowed to bathe or dine before they had finished their allotted task. But this man did not mind it. He straightaway went for his bath, had his full time of it, and quietly sat down for his meal. By this time, the other prisoners had already been driven back to their work by their warders, with abuses and fisticuffs amply bestowed upon them. The man in question had his shower of abuse like others, but, as if it was not meant for him, he went on unperturbed until he had his full. The warder and the petty officer goaded him on to hasten and go back to work. But they could not move him from

his seat. They sent for the Havildar. He tried his best to bring the man round. But the latter quietly said to him, "Look here, Havildar, I must have a full bite for each morsel that I take in, or else I may not digest it. To gulp down one's food was a sure way to spoil the stomach and I won't do it." Discomfitted, the Havildar took the complaint to Mr. Barrie. All others used to be frightened out of their wits to hear that Mr. Barrie was coming. Mr. Barrie came and this gentleman kept on eating as if nothing had happened Mr. Barrie shouted at him and expostulated, "All the prisoners have gone back to their work, and you are still at your meals. Do you take yourself to be a gentleman-at-large? Who will finish your work? I will break your bones, remember it too well " Biting slowly and deliberately the food in his mouth, he said to Mr. Barrie, with a calm and smiling face, "Sir, I am not Idling away my time. Medical science Insists that a man must give, at least, ten bites to every morsel that he chews. Our digestion, you know well, begins with this process in the mouth, and one dare not hurry over it. " Full of fury, Mr. Barrie abused him for that information, and declared with a loud voice that he would proceed against him the following morning for such breach of discipline. Softly our prisoner answered, "Look here, Sir, from ten to twelve is our time for rest, during which you have often forced us back to work. If anyone is unlawful in this affair is it not you? I have broken no law." Mr. Barrie was taken aback, for he did break the law, as the prisoner had brought it home to him. Mr. Barrie told him to go on with his food as long as he liked, but when he had finished it, he must return to work forthwith, and that if he did not finish in time his allotted work, he would not spare him, for anything in the world, but flay him alive with the strikes of his cane. He said this and walked away, sad at heart and stamping his feet for the insult he had received before all the prisoners in that part of the building. How much he would have liked to thrash and make an example of him before the whole world ! But he knew full well that, in spate of kicks and fisticuffs, the political prisoners had gone beyond his power to control them and was, therefore, uneasy at heart that they were on the verge of a general strike.

and beat the prisoner. Instead he gave hard slaps in the face of some of the jeerers. In the evening, the gentleman delivered to the Jamadar fifteen pounds of coconut oil which he had pressed from the oil-mill. That was, according to the prison-calculation, half-a-day's work Others could not have given even that much quantity of oil, but he was a strong and sturdy fellow, so he could do it. We have already spoken of his courage. He was punished for his slackness, he was kept on reduced ration, and, at last, the Superintendent had to promise that they would take him off the oil-mill if only he gave them his complete quota for three days in continuation. The prisoner, it must be admitted to his credit, completed his three days' work, taking leave, for the tame, of his strict medical observance. Mr. Barrie, puffed up by this success, broke the promise and sent him back to the oil-mill. The prisoner flatly refused to go back. He said that he was not an ox to be tied so to the grading wheel. "We are all men," he added, "and must be treated as such." Thus began the prisoners' first strike in the Andamans. The political prisoners on strike were subjected to all kinds of punishments in succession. Hand-cuffs shackles, solitary confinement and other regular forms of punishment were inflicted upon them to last for a week But the prison authorities gave them punishments severer than these in order to put down the strike They were in some cases against the sanction of the prison-regulations. Thus the prisoner whose story we have already related was made to subsist on 'Conji', for ten days continuously, when other punishments had proved in his case of no avail to subdue him. No prisoner could be put on 'Conji' for ten days in succession. It was a clear violation of the prison- rules. Sometimes three days on conji was a limit. And it was inflicted to tame down the prisoner by weakening his power of resistance. But the prison-calendar did not include this form of punishment. Later on when a high official from the Government of India visited the place, we drew his attention to this fact and Mr. Barrie flatly denied that he ever had recourse to it The prisoners subjected to this ordeal have declared to me on oath that they were not only kept on Conji but, at the same time, they were treated to large dozes of quinine, so that they felt dizzy; their stomachs turned, and they had suffered in body and mind beyond any power of human endurance. But it availed not in the least to overcome their passive resistance. Their unity and their courage and its unfavourable effect on the mind of fellow-prisoners at last compelled the authorities to surrender to their demand which was never to put political prisoners for work on the oil-mill. The authorities had to assure them on the point, in order that the strike may be called off. They pledged their word that "Kolu" shall be administered only in rare instances and the political prisoners shall be detailed for lighter work outside the prison-wails. From what they had heard of this kind of work they had inferred that it would mean more freedom for them. And once the right was conceded, it was sure to pave the way for further concession, namely, after five years' term of imprisonment in the jail they would be entirely free to work on their own within the bounds of those islands, and in ten years' time, they shall have the privilege of setting up an independent home there with the necessary 'ticket' of the prison authorities themselves. These considerations led the political prisoners to conclude that the relaxation as regards work on the oil-mill was the thin end of the wedge and, therefore, it would not be unwise or cowardly on their part to call off the strike although it was not to be done all at once. Some of these prisoners had already filled their one year's term of Imprisonment, and they would be set free

immediately to go on work outside the prison. These began to go back to work one by one and thus the strike had gradually come to an end. Within a few days, the first batch of political prisoners was sent out to do all kinds of sundry work. Some of them had to dig in the mud, others to load their buckets with the mud so dug out, others were detailed to sweep the streets, and others, again, to carry loadfuls of coconut fruit-so on and so forth.

Yoked to the carriage

In the Andamans it is the fashion for the Government Officers to drive in carriages to which, instead of harnessing bullocks or horses, they harness convicts from the silver Jail. It was a common sight in the streets of this Island to meet such carriages. The prisoners ran them over steep climbs nearly breathless with that exertion and received epithets from their inmates, like "Go on, you scoundrels, run on quickly." A few of them, I knew, had refused to drive in carriages driven by these human animals. But there was none among the prisoners themselves to offer resistance. This fact was, later on, brought home to them by Mr. Barrie's indiscretion. He had no penetration of intellect to perceive the folly of his action. But the outrage became too patent when, in order to impress upon the Superintendent the recalcitrance of political prisoners, he had arranged with the Jamadars to make the daring experiment of yoking the stoutest and the most daring among them to such carriages. The experiment was made on a batch recently set free to work outside. But the experiment failed and fabled miserably. When the Jamadar concerned proceeded to carry out the orders of his master, those selected for that humiliating operation refused to move. They refused to be harnessed to the carriage like dumb-driven animals. "We are not oxen or horses that we should be made to pull the carriage", that was the firm reply they gave Mr. Barrie felt that he had got what he wanted. He, at once, called the attention of the Superintendent to this act of disobedience and remarked, "Now, you can judge for yourself how vile and hopeless they are; they wanted to be free and we have given them freedom; and yet they would not do what we bid them to do ! They will not pull the carriage; what other work can I give to them which they deem unobjectionable? And if I detail them for lighter work or work that they consider decent, others may blame me for being partial to them. So I am in a fix here."

The God-fearing Mr. Barrie

But had not the same god-fearing Mr. Barrie swallowed all his scruples when he had given the lightest of work to those who least deserved it? He had appointed in his office or at his residence men to do work who did not know how to spell their rudiments. He had selected for desk-work some of the worst characters in that jail. And he had bestowed such favour upon those of the political prisoners who had served him as spies, or who had won light jobs by sheer flattery and similar demeaning behaviour. Where had his conscience gone when he had shown these preferences and exclusions? The definition of favouritism in Mr. Barrie's vocabulary of words was evidently an action that had inevitably led to the fall of his favourites ! When I reached that prison, the condition

of political prisoners was as I have described above. This I came to learn within a month's time of my being in that prison. Some of these prisoners were definitely against the policy of strike as a matter of conviction. Others had decided to give implicit obedience. These Mr. Barrie had used to sow dissensions between the strikers, and to bring home to them that strikes were a great blunder. Between stern resisters who would use abuse for abuse, insolence against insolence, he sought, through these renegades, to create aversion for such tactics, as being quite unbecoming to them as well-bred young men. Naturally they desired to seek my opinion on all these matters. Not they alone but Mr. Barrie himself was anxious to know what I thought of it. He had striven his hardest to pump me out upon the whole question. After a fortnight of close and secluded life in my cell, he brought me down on the shawl nearby, and on its ground-floor to work there during the day. Picking Oakum There I was to pick one pound of oakum on the first day. Usually the piece of work to do for an ordinary prisoner is no less than one and half or two pounds of oakum. Mr. Barrie declared that it was a favour done to me as a special case and in consideration of my superior status. So he harangued briefly to his listeners. The work may be less and Inspired by added kindness, as Mr. Barrie sought to put it; but this kindness did not make the oakum less hard for my hands to ply with, and there was no kindness in it to soften the labour for me My muscles were swollen by it and the pain it gave me was unbearable My palms blistered and blood flowed from its cracks. I showed them to the Superintendent and asked him if he could not change it I exhorted him to give me a respite from it for a few days at least To it the inevitable answer was, "that is the experience of all of them here. Take it as a favour that we gave you one pound to do, and not like others, one and half or two pounds a day." And the Superintendent went away I had to do the picking all the same. And the material I had picked was stained with the drops of my blood Mr. Barrie was careful to note if it was one pound He did not care to note the drops that had stained it. He had no time for such attention. Rascals! I will cane you And yet not a day passed when he had not exchanged a few words with me. Gradually he Introduced, in his ten minutes' daily talk with me, reference to the attitude of political prisoners under him Others were strictly banned from carrying information from one of them to the other or even to convey greetings from one to other. And if any one was caught in the act, the punishment visited upon him was reduction from his post as a warder or a week's hard labour on the oil-mill. But the same information Mr. Barrie was free to carry from one member to another; only it was to be an information to sow dissension and to create division among them. Mr. Barrie knew well that I had all the past information about these prisoners and it had come to me inspite of his strict watch to the contrary. Why not then put forth one's own point of view? So had Mr. Barrie thought