1128. But the British had laid down one crafty and far more dangerous condition. The British statesmen insisted that India be vivisected into two because they wanted to reward those Muslims who had consistently and treacherously helped the British throughout the Indian War of Liberation ever since 1857, and who demanded a unified state of the Muslim-majority provinces cut out from the rest of India, as a price for that help. The British statesmen conceded to this anti-Hindu, highly perfidious and anti-national demand of the Muslims with a still deeper and more sinister motive of creating an everlasting enemy for the Hindu nation.
1129. This insistence of the British was basically the Muslim demand for a separate sovereign state over the Muslim-majority provinces, which had been supported quite vehemently by all the Muslims in India. But all the Hindus in India, strongly enough, did not oppose this Muslim demand for a Pakistan so vehemently! With only one exception, all the political parties in India were for granting the Muslims Pakistan, and ending the strife forever. It meant that the whole of Punjab and Bengal should be ceded to Pakistan. Over and above this, the Muslims demanded a corridor to connect their two Muslim states of Punjab and Bengal, a strip of land right from the Punjab to Bengal through the heart of North India!!
1130. The only party which staunchly and consistently opposed these Muslim demands throughout India was avowedly a pro-Hindu party! Under the leadership of the Hindu Mahasabha, these Hindus started an all-India agitation against the vivisection of India, and protested against it as bitterly as possible. The anti-Hindu elements, the Muslims, the British Government, all persecuted them, tortured them, locked them up in prisons, shed the Hindu blood at various places, to crush this great agitational movement of the Hindus. But throughout the whole of India, these avowed pro-Hindu (Hindutwa-nishtas) faced boldly all the atrocities of the enemies, even when they were in a minority. They even did not refrain from avenging the spilling of Hindu blood by shedding the enemy blood and by beheading those who proved treacherous to the Hindu cause!
1131. Fortunately, this retaliation by the loyal Hindus, done at the risk of their lives, did not prove quite futile. For, although the British Government decided much against our wishes to partition India, they had to concede to the least of our demands that instead of giving over the whole of Punjab and Bengal to the Muslims, as per their demand only, the Muslim-majority part of those provinces should be included in Pakistan while the rest of Punjab

and Bengal with Hindu majority should be joined to India as Eastern Punjab and West Bengal. The demand of the loyal Hindus (Hindutwa-nishtas) ‘Let us vivisect their proposed Pakistan before they vivisect our Hindusthan’, thus proved successful. And as for the more dangerous Muslim demand for a corridor—a passage through north India to join Punjab and Bengal—not a word was ever spoken nor considered during these talks of the transfer of power mainly because of the bitterest opposition of these ‘loyal’ Hindus! 1132. And when during the election for the central and provincial legislatures of India, the majority of the Indian voters elected those very candidates and parties who gave their consent to create Pakistan, they proved themselves to be the greatest sinners, responsible for the horrible national crime of eternally harming the undivided India! 1133. Again the ‘loyal Hindu’ knew in their heart of hearts that this creation of Pakistan was the necessary consequence of the great sins of cherishing perverted conception of virtues, of banning reconversion of the polluted Hindus and many other such religious and social vices imbibed in us from our old ancestors. These very anti-Hindu and anti-national practices of the Hindu had already created big and small “Pakistans” in every city and every village. It was inevitable that we had to suffer the horrible consequences of these, our social sins and crimes. A detailed discussion on this point is available in the foregoing pages (of Chapter 8, Paras 421 to 472.) 1134. While all these momentous movements were going on in India, the British Cabinet itself, after taking into account the general trend, tabled a bill in the British Parliament, named “Independence of India Act,” which was unanimously passed. Accordingly on the 15th of August, 1947, the British Governor-General in Delhi declared, at last, with the consent of the elected representatives of India, that the British nation was on that day liberating India from their imperial domination and making it politically free, that of the Muslim majority districts of West Punjab and East Bengal separate independent Muslim State, called Pakistan, would be created. While the rest of India would be founded as an independent Indian State! 1135. Thus was India liberated from the domination of the British Empire and this great Indian republic was established! The practical politicians amongst the ‘loyal Hindus’ satisfied themselves, whatever was obtained was not meagre! Though not the whole of Bharat, at least three-fourths of it was liberated in an undivided state! Quite a great boon indeed! After about

a thousand years, a great new age of national importance has dawned in the history of the Hindus. As such, the real strategy for the Hindus from the point of view of their own benefit and the greater glory of Hindutwa is first to make the newly won Bharat wholly their own. The fragments that were left in the foreign hands could be attended to later on! 1136. Immediately, the British Union Jack which had been fluttering proudly over the Red Fort in Delhi—over the heart of India as it were—for the last hundred or a hundred and fifty years with overbearing imperial haughtiness, was pulled down and in its place was hoisted amidst tumultuous applause and the deafening cries of “Hail, Indian Independence, all Hail to thee!” the tri- coloured flag of the independent, sovereign Government of India, with the Sudarshan wheel imprinted on it! 1137. From the Western Seas came the British imperial power marching on us with the supercilious vanity that with the sword alone, they would conquer empires and with the sword alone, would they run them, and straightway it climbed the Indian imperial throne of Delhi. But, at last, from the very same throne of Delhi was it dragged down, its vaunting sword being cut to pieces! To the shores of the very same Western Seas, it was driven back and was ultimately submerged into the very same Western Seas! The last defeated British soldier, we saw with our own eyes going back to the same Western Seas with his head long down and back towards us. 1138. Thus of all the foreign aggressions over India that took place during the last two thousand years, the greatest and mightiest one—the sixth in order—that of the British was in the end, utterly defeated by India and its political domination crushed to pieces! This victory over the English which deserves the Commemoration by a Horse-Sacrifice is The Sixth of the Glorious Hindu Victories over foreign aggressors! ❑ .

Oh Martyrs

The Battle of Freedom once begun and Handed down from sire to son Though often lost is ever won!! Today is the tenth of May! It was on this day that in the ever memorable year of 1857, the first campaign of the War of Independence was opened by you, Oh Martyrs, on the battlefield of India. The Motherland, awakened to the sense of her degrading slavery, unsheathed her sword, burst forth from the shackles and struck the first blow for her liberty and for her honour. It was on this day that the war-cry ‘Maro Feringhi Ko’ was raised by the throats of thousands. It was on this day that the sepoys of Meerut, having risen in a terrible uprising, marched down to Delhi, saw the waters of the Jumna, glittering in the sunshine, caught one of those historical moments which closed past epoch to introduce a new one, and ‘had found, in a moment, a leader, a flag and a cause, and converted the mutiny into a national and a religious war. All honour be to you, oh Martyrs. For it was for the preservation of the honour of the race that you performed the fiery ordeal of a revolution when the religions of the land were threatened with a forcible and sinister conversion, when the, hypocritc threw off his friendly garb and stood up into the naked heinousness of a perfidious foe breaking treaties, smashing crowns, forging chains and mocking all the while our merciful mother for the very honesty with which she believed the pretensions of the white liar, then you, oh Martyrs of 1857, awoke the mother, inspired the mother, and for the honour of the mother, rushed to the battlefield terrible and tremendous with the war-cry ‘Maro Feringhi Ko’ on your lips, and with the sacred mantra of God and Hindusthan on your banner! Well did you do in, rising. For otherwise, although your blood might have been spared, yet the stigma of servility would have been the deeper, one more link would have been added to the cursed chain of demoralising patience, and the world would have again contemptuously pointed to our nation saying, ‘She deserves slavery, she is happy in slavery.’ For even in 1857, she did not raise even a finger to protect her interest and her honour!’ This day, therefore, we dedicate, oh Martyrs, to your inspiring memory! It was on this day that you raised a new flag to be upheld, you uttered a mission to be fulfilled, you saw a vision to be realized, you proclaimed a nation to be born!

We take up your cry, we revere your flag, we are determined to continue that fiery mission of ‘away with the foreigner’, which you uttered, amidst the prophetic thunderings of the Revolutionary war. Revolutionary, yes, it was a Revolutionary war. For, the War of 1857 shall not cease till the revolution arrives, striking slavery into dust, elevating liberty to the throne. Whenever a people arises for its freedom, whenever that seed of liberty gets germinated in the blood of its fathers, whenever that seed of liberty gets germinated in the blood of its Martyrs, and whenever there remains at least one true son to avenge that blood of his fathers, there never can be an end to such a war as this. No, a revolutionary war knowns no truce, save liberty or death. We, inspired by your memory, determine to continue the struggle you began in 1857, we refuse to acknowledge the armistice as a truce; we look upon the battles you fought as the battles of the first campaign—the defeat of which cannot be the defeat of the War. What? Shall the world say that India has accepted the defeat as the final one? That the blood of 1857 was shed in vain? That the sons of India betray their fathers’ vows? No, by Hindusthan, no! The historical continuity of the Indian nation is not cut off. The war began on the 10th of May, 1857, is not over on the 10th of May, 1958, nor shall it ever cease till a 10th of May to come sees the destiny accomplished, sees the beautiful India crowned, either with the lustre of victory or with the halo of martyrdom. But, O glorious Martyrs, in this pious struggle of your sons, help. O help us by your inspiring presence! Torn in innumerable petty selves, we cannot realise the grand unity of the Mother. Whisper, then, unto us by what magic you caught the secret of Union. How the Feringhi rule was shattered to pieces and the Swadeshi thrones were set up by the common consent of Hindus and Mahomedans. How in the higher love of the mother, united the difference of castes and creeds, how the venerated and venerable Bahadur Shah prohibited the killing of cows throughout India, how Shreemant Nanasahib after the first salute of the thundering cannon to the emperor of Delhi, reserved for himself the second one! How you staggered the whole world, by uniting under the banner of mother and forced your enemies to say ‘Among the many lessons the Indian Mutiny conveys to the historian and administrator, none is of greater importance than the warning that it is possible to have a revolution in which Brahmins and Shudras, Mahomedans and Hindus were united against us and that it is not safe to suppose that the peace and stability of our dominion in any great measure depends on the

continent being inhabited by different races with different religious systems, for they mutually understand each other and respect and take part in each other’s modes and ways and doings. The mutiny reminds us that our dominions rest on a thin crust ever likely to be rent by titanic fires of social changes and revolutions. Whisper unto us the nobility of such an alliance of religion and patriotism, the true religion whichever is on the side of patriotism, the true patriotism which secures the freedom of religion. And give us the marvellous energy, daring and secrecy with which you organised the mighty volcano; show us the volcanic magma that underlie the green thin crust on which the foe is to be kept lulled into a false security; tell us how the chapati, that fiery Cross of India flew from village- to-village and from valley-to-valley, setting the whole intellect of the nation on fire by the very vagueness of its message and then let us hear the roaring thunder with which the volcano at last burst forth with an all shattering force, rushing, smashing, burning and consuming into one continuous fiery flow of red-hot lava-flood! Within a month, regiment-after-regiment, prince-after-prince, city-after-city, sepoys, police, zemindars, Pundits, Moulvis, the multiple-headed Revolution sounded its tocsin and temples and mosques resounded with the cry ‘Maro Feringhi Ko’! Away with the foreigners! Meerut rose, Delhi rose, rose Benares, Agra, Patna, Lucknow, Allahabad, Jadagalpoor, Jhansi, Banda, Indore—from Peshwar to Calcutta and from the Narmada to the Himalayas, the volcano burst forth into a sudden, simultaneous, and all consuming conflagration!! And then, oh Martyrs, tell us the little as well as the great defects that you found out in our people in that great experiment of yours. But above all, point out that most ruinous, nay, the only material drawback in the body of the nation, which rendered all your efforts futile—the mean selfish blindness which refuses to see its way to join the nation’s cause. Say that the only cause of the defeat of Hindusthan was Hindusthan herself, that shaking away the slumber of centuries, the mother rose to hit the foe, but while her right hand was striking the Feringhi dead, her left hand struck, alas, not the enemy, but her own forehead! So she staggered and fell back into the inevitable swoon of 50 years. Fifty years are past, but, oh restless spirits of 1857, we promise you with our hearts’ blood that your Diamond Jubilee shall not pass without seeing your wishes fulfilled!! We have heard your voice and we gather courage from it. With limited means you sustained a war, not against tyranny alone,

but against tyranny and treachery together. The Duab and Ayodhya making a united stand, waged a war, not only against the whole of the British power but against the rest of India too; and yet you fought for three years and yet you had well-nigh snatched away the crown of Hindusthan and smashed the hollow existence of the alien rule. What an encouragement this! What the Duab and Ayodhya could do in a month, the simultaneous, sudden and determined rising of the whole of Hindusthan can do in a day. This hope illumines our hearts and assures us of success. And so we allow that your Diamond Jubilee year 1917 shall not pass without seeing the resurging India making a triumphant entry into the world. For, the bones of Bahadur Shah are crying vengeance from their grave! For, the blood of dauntless Laxmi is boiling with indignation! For, the shahid Peer Ali of Patna, when he was going to the gallows for having refused to divulge the secrets of the conspiracy whispered defiance to the Feringhi said in prophetic words: ‘You may hang me today, you may hang such as me everyday, but thousands will still rise in my place—your object will never be gained.’ Indians, these words must be fulfilled! Your blood, oh Martyrs, shall be avenged. VANDE MATARAM

Letters From Andamans D/15-12-12 Dearest brother Thus it is after 18 months I have a chance to touch pen and ink again. At this rate one can quickly unlearn the art of writing altogether! You must have been very anxious about this delay but as you had received a letter from our dearest Baba in July, I thought it would be more assuring to you to hear from us a few months later than at about the same time. How glad I was to learn that you have joined the medical course and are doing well. How do you like that course? To me it is a noble course. I should like you to take not only Medicine but the Science of Physiology itself as your special province. Please do follow it up not only as a profession but as a pursuit. It opens out inexhaustible field for charity and benevolence. It is respected all over the world, in the Hotenttots as well as in the Aryans. The study of body—a temple wherein the soul lives—is next to the study of the soul itself. Your choice of books last year was simply capital. Moropant, Bharat, Vivekanand—all standard books. Out of the books asked for by me only ज्ञेयमीमांसा and अज्ञेयमीमांसा did not come why? I have sent a list for this year, but do not spend more than 10 rupees on my books. If the list comes to more than that please go on omitting from the bottom. You need not buy all books new. You can send some second hand ones if you like. And how do you like Bengal? By this time after the Puja holidays you are back to Calcutta and must have grown quite into a Bengali Babu—is not it? Forgotten Marathi language? Please take care you do not lose something else. For, I am afraid I might hear at any time that some one in those clever Bengalis has stolen your heart away! Though I for one should like so much to have found a dear little Bengali sister-in-law. I am as strongly in favour of these inter-provincial marriages among the Hindus as I am deadly opposed to the practice of marrying the European girls at this stage of our national life. And now my dear Bal, something about me here. My health is all right. Ever since I came to this jail, I never had a serious illness and have managed to keep my weight just what it was when I came here. I

am both physically and mentally doing well—believe me, dearest, in some respects so well that I had hardly ever done so before; for life in a jail, for good, for evil, is a unique chance. Man can never go out of it exactly as he came in. He goes out far better or far worse. Either more Angelic or more Fiendish. Fortunately, for me, my mind has so quickly adapted itself to the changes in circumstances. It seems so strange that a nature so restless and active, roaming over continents, should so quickly feel quite at home in a cell hardly a dozen feet in length. And yet one of the kindest gifts of the Providence to Humanity is this plasticity, this adaptability of human mind to the ever changing environments of life. When early in the morning and late in the evening, I try a bit of Pranayam and then pass insensibly into a sweet sound-sleep. Oh how calm and quiet is that rest; so calm that when I get up in the morning, it is long before I can realize again that I am in a prison cell lying on a wooden plank. All the common aims and allurements of mankind having receded far, the conscience is perfectly pleased with itself with the conviction of having served under His banner and served to some purpose. A calm, a sweet equanimity is left with my soul and it lulls my mind in an intense peace. There are exceptions but this is the general rule. In fact, if I be suddenly dropped in the midst of Bombay or London I think I will have to shout with the hermit in ‘शाकुन्तलः — ‘जनाकीर्णं मन्ये हुतवहपरीतं गृहमिव॥’ And even if hearing the market gossip, your mind sometimes sighs: ‘Oh still his life would have been more useful and dazzling outside’, even then remember that those who work outside, work much; but those who work in the prison, work more; and after all, my dearest Bal, don’t you think that suffering is in itself work intense because it is subtle! I get up in the morning when the bell goes on at 5 A.M. At its sound, I feel as if I have entered a higher college for a higher study. Then we are doing our work of rigour till 10 A.M. while my hands and feet are automatically doing the given task, my spirit avoiding all detection is out for a morning trip, and across seas and oceans, over hills and dales, it roams sipping only pleasant things, and things noble, like a bee amongst the flowers. Then I compose some new lines. Then we dine at 12 noon, work again. From 4 P.M. comes rest; reading & c. This is the usual round of life here.

In your answer, please inform me how our dear Motherland is getting on? Is the Congress united? Does it pass the resolution for the release of the political prisoners from year to year as it did at Allahabad in 1910? Any remarkable Swadeshi enterprise like the iron works of Tata or Steam Navigation Company or new mills? How is the Republic of China? Does it not sound like Utopia realized? A Romance of History! Don’t suppose that China’s work is a day’s. No! from 1850, they have been strenuously at it, though the world knows not where the Sun is making its way—till it is risen: and Persia, Portugal and Egypt? And are the Indians in south Africa successful in getting their demands? Please do mention if any important law has been passed by the new Councils, e. g. the Education Bill of the Hon. Mr. Gokhale. When the great Tilak is due to be released? Did you show my letter to my beloved Yamuna? Please translate all to her. It is only a few years more not more than 5—when a better day will dawn. So my beloved wife, hold on as nobly as you have done. My most respectful pranams to my dearest Vahini—she who had been and is still through her blessings—a mother, a sister and a friend at the same time. I cannot name, for obvious reasons, others with whose memory my heart is now overwhelmingly full. Tell them all that I remember each and all of them. How can I forget them? No, a man in a prison cannot forget. The mind, shut up from the new impressions can only feed on the old ones, and so in a prison, so far from forgetting old acquaintances, one vividly remembers and begins to love even those who were before forgotton. My sweet friends, in a prison one weeps and weeps and vainly waits for some one to come to wipe the tears—to speak a word of affection and love. Oh in a prison how can I forget? To all those please give my affection and love who you know were my sweet friends and comrades and dearer than life to me, and to those who even when some were not ashamed to disown the ties of blood, are still standing by you and remember me, my deepest obligations are due. They know that a letter from a jail must be more or less stereotyped, and hence no names. Please give my ashirwadas to dear Mai, my only sister and Vasant, my only hope. Also remember me to dear Mami and little Champi. with all love I remain, your own brother TATYA

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Cellular Jail 15-2-1914 Port Blair My beloved Bal, And now come along. A year has rolled by and the happy day has come back again! Only those who had been in a jail can fully appreciate what a soul-entrancing blessing it is to hear from home, to write to home!! Sweet- sweet something like the sweetness of conversation in the moonlight, by the sea-beach, with one whom one loves and adores! But wait, the bell is gone and I must go to take my food—it is 10 A. M. ...yes, now I have come back again, after having taken my food in the general file of the denizens of the jail. Yes I said it was sweet; in fact the day of a letter to home is to me always the real पाडवा, my new year’s day; I count my year from that day; for I get a stock of energy and enthusiasm from the communion with my chosen few, which enables me to breathe and live and laugh a year further on. I was sorry not to write earlier and to compel you to undergo the troubles of sending a telegram. The authorities had kindly informed me of it. But you see, brother, though a year was past and I was entitled to send a letter, yet the antediluvian spirit of our postal system here does not carry a letter to Calcutta from this place unless some five or six weeks after it is written, so I am told. That is why a letter cannot be sent unless some fourteen months go by. But then any letter that you send reaches here almost as soon as in this twentieth century it ought to. From your letter, I am so glad to learn that you are in sound health and passed the examination with credit. Examination or no examination, you must not neglect your health. No. I long to see you robust, bubbling with health and freshness and vigour. The dawn of youth, that is just breaking upon you, is the very fountain of life and energy. So do not waste it by overwork of any one member in excess of the rest. But grow in harmony, brain and body. You are a Doctor yourself and it is a bit of presumption on a layman’s part to insist on good health. But then youth is blind and forgets to lay by, a fund of energy and life, while the vital forces are still welling up from within, and the organism is growing so that when the winter age comes, they may have abundant fund of vitality to draw on. Otherwise, if your eyesight is weakened, if you look like the willow of a man—I will shout out: ‘Physician, heal thyself! (Don’t laugh in the sleeves—for I am not a physician and so I can afford to have a bad eyesight! For, all lawyers have

it—at least ought to have!) And how proud am I to know that some of my pet lambs have come out first class B.A. and M.A. That is noble! But then nobler when the field of duty that faces them now, is also well fought and well won, and they are hailed therein too, as deserving of its gold medals, for before the gold medals of that great corporation of man, the gold medals of these so-called ‘universities’ are as of tinsel! I should be so glad to hear from them personally—for some of them are never absent from my memory even down to this day. About those who inform you voluntarily to do so, write to me by naming and particularizing. The books that you sent are simply capital. The महात्मा परिचय—what a fine translation.—and the introduction of two lines how modest and appropriate—‘फोडिलें भांडार धन्याचा हा माल। मी तव हमाल भार वाही’!!!I liked it awfully. And the ‘जाईचा मंडप!’ No sooner did I go through a dozen of pages, then each time, each word began to pulsate harmoniously with my heart, and I knew who could have written it! The language is worthy of the sentiments, the sentiments so poetic and sublime, worthy of the theme, and the theme worthy of both. I wish that such popular series as the भारत गौरव माला realize their responsibility of guiding and not only tickling the popular fancy and so publish every now and then political history, science and economy, e.g. Mill’s Representative Government etc. About the books on Vedant philosophy, well, I fear it is not opportune that such men should be busy with such things. The Americans need Vedanta philosophy, and so does England; for they have developed their life to that fulness, richness and manliness—to Kshatriyahood and so stand on the threshold of that Brahminhood, wherein alone the capacity to read and realize such philosophy can coexist. But India has not. We are at present all शूद्र and cannot claim access to the Veda and Vedanta. That is the underlying idea why शूद्र were not allowed to read Vedas, not certainly not, for cruelty, nor for narrow or vested interest—otherwise “पुराण would not have been written by the very Brahmins expounding the same philosophy more lucidly. We, as a nation, are unfit for these sublime thoughts, for it is well known that Bajirao II was a great Vedantist and that is why, perhaps, he could not see the difference between a kingdom and a

pension. Let us study history, political science, science, economy, live worthily in this world, fulfil the “गृहस्थाश्रम—the house-holders’s duties —and then the वानप्रस्थाश्रम and its philosophic dawn might come. And whatever these works are meant to do, they might be left to be written by widows, old men and pensioners out of offices. They should live in the past old works and old puzzles of God and soul and man. The young, the youth—why not live in the future? Talk of Vedanta—Benares has not produced a single martyr and they cannot give up a farthing for their fatherland!!! And now, something about myself here. Well, during the last year, I had no illness, whatever. My health is excellent and my weight, as yet, unreduced and that is a feat, is it not? In this tiny cellular sanitarium, I get up early, take regular amount of food regularly, and go to bed early—in fact have to do all these things and so early to bed and early to rise is making me healthy—(though not)—‘wealthy and wise’! In fact you, Oh! would-be-Doctor Saheb! could not have devised a better time table for your patients. And, good as is the health of my body, the health of my mind is better still. Any work hard or mean, I ply myself to humming every now and then, ‘स्वे स्वे कर्मण्यभिरतः संसिद्धिं लभते नर’ : शङ्क ‘यतः प्रवृत्तिर्भूतानां येन सर्वमिदं ततम्। स्वकर्मणा तमभ्यर्च्य सिद्धिं विंदन्ति मानवा’ or ‘सर्वारंभा हि दोषेण धूमेनाग्निरिवावृताः!!And every evening—for nowadays I am in a cell, a bit of the sky is visible from—I watch the glorious sunset and the pomp of light and shade and loose myself in the rose and the lilly, and the lilac of the west; thinking now this and now that; from the poets ‘कतस्तटतमालमालिनीम्। पश्य धातुरसनिम्नगामिच’ or ‘तेन मानिनि ममात्र गौरवम्ं to the profoundest fancies of idealist philosophers, that all that seems is but subjective affection and there is nothing objective to correspond to it—at least we do not know of it. And my mind is perfectly happy—happy even as it was in his company there— with her company there!! And if at times, the mind like a child gets silly and simply will weep—then the Grand Reason steps in and smiles ‘well sweet heart, what ails thee? What un-known you suffer? How silly! Did you want to ride on the crest of ambition, drive in the chariot of self-

glorification yourself? If you did, well, then you deserved to be baffled and defeated in such a selfish and demoralising ambition! But God and I know you did not covet any reward personally—no, neither fame nor name nor land nor lucre, nay, not even happiness. The only thing you wanted was to be privileged to suffer most! At least, that is what you used to say in my presence—to sacrifice most, for others, for humanity. Then lo! where is the disappointment? you have done ‘यज्ञम् सर्वस्वदक्षिणम्’ are suffering without end, without limitation of time! Not a minute, not an action of yours that is not dedicated to the purification of the race through suffering. Then rejoice! What could you have done better than this? And the mind plumes its feathers again, and soars, and rises and sings once more! But if ever the mind still goes on still puffing up its little ego, then the Grandam takes it out and showing the world says: ‘There are the Himalayas! There was a time that they were not there and a time there will come when they shall not be there!!! And this moon and this solar system and the Sidereal!! It is too much then for that little mind; it forgets itself, is absorbed in the Universe—ashamed of its self-importance and self-care!!!’ So my beloved Bal, both of us here are in perfect health of body and mind. Do not care at all about us. The only thing that we feel still individually attaches us to this world is thy health and safety. So if you guarantee these two—of course, try your best and then we do not care for the result—we shall be happiest. As yet jail has left no mark, no shadow on us for anything, worse—and all this health is in spite of circumstances and not in virtue of them. You have written about the petition you sent to the authorities here enquiring about the time of visit. Well, in fact, I ought to have been, according to the practice here, released from this Cellular Jail and allowed to live on the island. My ‘behaviour’ is admittedly good. But then neither of us is released. I am trying to request the Government to reconsider this and you, too, whenever you know anything be writing to the authorities here. Very soon our dearest Baba will have done his 5 years and you can then claim a visit. But our release and permission to bring our relations here to live with us, the authorities here can do very little, though they can do every thing in the case of other convicts. Nor are they very much to be blamed, for orders we suppose come directly from the Indian Government. So, you better send a petition to the Indian Government whenever you fail to know anything directly from the authorities here. But even as it is, do not worry yourself about any arrangements concerning us.

The Government will do in all likelihood all that justice demands themselves. And we shall be reminding them every now and then. What else have we to do? You only care for your health and safety. I am glad you remember what I told you in the High Court. Assure our beloved Yamuna that these four years will not pass without ushering the dawn of a happier day. So let that noble heart and that heart— our dearest Vahini hold on! Hold on even as they have been doing up to this time!! Let them read all मराठी literature and not only the old mythological works but new and current and living streams of life's expression in the West and the East. It was a sad pride that I felt when I heard the noble death of our noble comrade and brother Sakharam.$^1$ You know it was in the High School days that we first saw each other! He lived bravely—died bravely. What more can one wish for oneself! His wife— dear Janki Vahini—well I have not seen her and yet have seen her through your pen-pictures. All that I feel for her is that she is not poor, not ill- starred—but called upon to play the holiest part in life even because it is the lanliest! Remember me to her. And how is tiny Vasant? Will the great little man write me a word? He is now some 7 years old, is he not? And his mother? Oh! I saw her for the last time in the Dongri jail A sister is one of the richest gifts that a man can have!! Give my love to her and a sweet kiss to that great little gentleman—my Vasant! Also remember me to all our relations—one and all—and above all to her who though not a relation and even because she is not a relation, whom I used to call jokingly the mother of the party and whom now in all seriousness and gratefulness, 1 call my own mother, and who is standing by you and remembers me—give her my most grateful regards and loving remembrances—names not to utter which seems a sacrilege and yet which cannot be uttered, for their own sake, from a prison wherein not only legs but tongues too are fettered! Well you know them all. I told you who were nearest to my heart as my most intimate friends—to all of them give my love, my fresher love! If some of them voluntarily ask you to be particularized in letters to me from you, I will then umburden my heart and name them. The books that are to be sent to me, I write down here. The time is up and so my sweetest Bal, I am, with most reluctant steps receding and tearing myself away from you. Your own brother TATYA

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Celluar Jail 9-3-1915 Port Blair Best beloved Bal, And once again, my pen after a Ripvanwincle’s sleep is wakened and hastens to acknowledge the receipt of your letter received some 7-8 months ago. To have a letter from you is like to see you: for partly owing to the cinematographic flashes with which your letter abounds and partly owing to the wonderful faculty, with which the solitude of a prison, endows the power of hearing in man-faculty, which enables one to visualize the thing heard, as in the case of those born blind. Whenever I hear from you, I succeed in almost seeing you and all those dear faces and dear scenes that constitute our happy little home on the banks of the musical Godavari. Our dearest brother Baba and myself are happy in seeing you doing well and as long as you take care of your health and try your best to lead a life, at once noble and happy and healthy, you need not be anxious about our health, mental and physical. The books that you sent last year were 16 and this year’s 13 (4 English 2 Oct. 2 Nov. The rest Sanskrit and Vernacular. Please do write whether this is correct. Next time you send a parcel, please do send a list with it in your own handwriting, so that we may be able to check the postal delivery. I was glad to read समाज-रहस्य (why you sent two copies of it?). It is a very good novel. One thing more—among the social institutions—the greatest curse of India is the system of castes. The mighty current of Hindu life is being threatened to perish in bogs and sands. It is no good saying: ‘We will reduce it to four caste-system first. That would not and should not be. It must be swept away, root and branch.’ The best means to that effect is a crusade against it, in all forms of literature, especially drama and novel. Every true patriot should cease to have double dealing and speak out his mind clearly and act up to it. The only care to be taken being not to pay so much attention and not to create so much fuss in this side-issue and our internal relation as to forget and hamper and thwart the issue—our relation with the world—but for the right adjustment of which, no internal questions can be satisfactorily solved, or solved to any substantial purpose. So, I shall like to have a number of goodly written novels like the समाज-रहस्य, which would attack this effete and unjust social curse. It had done much good in the past, but it is dead now. So let us

bury it, with tears if you like. I am glad to hear that the Government is going to allow you to see me this year. Please do thank the authorities for it. But I am firmly of opinion that dear Vahini should not be put to troubles of the voyage this year. You should come alone and when you see all the facilities or otherwise here and know the best way to bring her, then the next time you come to see me, you may bring her, and dear Mai too. I feel it a duty to forego the inestimable pleasure of seeing those dearest ones this year for the sake of their convenience. So, please come alone this year. It sent a thrill of delight in my heart to hear that the Indian troops were allowed to go to Europe, in their thousands to fight against the best military power in the world and that they had acquainted themselves with such splendour and were covered with military glory. Thank God! Manliness, after all, is not dead yet in the land! And what a funny thing! We have been trying our best to encourage foreign travel and used to congratulate ourselves if a dozen could be sent a year! And now Providence has done what we could not—thousands of Hindus, orthodox like the Gurkhas and Rajputs and reformed like the Shikhs have crossed the sea and under the Government patronage! Now let our Pandits sit hatching over the eggs of शास्त्रार्थ to see if foreign travel is permissible to the Hindus or not. Permissible or not, the Hindus have crossed the sea, and in crossing it, they have crossed an epoch! What the crusades have done for Europe by bringing it in contact with the superior civilization of Asia, this conflict with the Europeans of our Hindu troops across the seas will do for India—for Asia. As for the petition, that is made for the release of Political prisoners in the Punjab we can hardly thank them sufficiently for this, their charitable deed. You may be knowing by this time that some of us have already volunteered, to go to the front of the War and I am glad to inform you that Government have made a special note of it, though no answer could come as yet. By the by, please do write of the rumour that some M.P. had asked a question in the Parliament about me, or some of us before the war broke out, be true and if so the particulars of it. Did you get the poems on Guru and Ravi? It pained me very much to hear, that Hon. Gokhale was dead. He was, after all, a great patriot. True, at times, especially in panics, he used to say and do things, which he himself must have been ashamed of a few months after, to own. But then, his life was dedicated to the service of Motherland

and there was very little personal and selfish about him. All along his life, he served Her and for the good of Her, as he saw it. How anxious I was to see him, before death parted us; and to compare notes as he had said to me in London, when we saw each other for the last time. We could not agree on certain points and he said ‘well Mr. Savarkar, come! We will see each other after some six years and then would compare notes’! Maharashtra must send some one—worthier than he—to his place in Councils. If every Indian could do at least as much as he did! Next time you send books, please send the novels जन्मभूमि and गौतम, which brother is very eager to read. I was very much afraid that owing to the invasion of France, you would be unable to hear from Madame Cama- who had been ever since my coming here a second mother to you and who had so nobly and so faithfully stood by us in the darkest hour of our life. But I was very glad to be assured that she, even in the midst of this world- hubbub, remembered you and had regularly been sending letters to you. At the touch of one such faithful, noble, unshaken loving hand, one’s heart recovers its belief in Humanity—belief rudely shaken by the disappearance of the closest and by the treachery of the truest and by the indifference of the dearest. It is a pity I can not write to the dear lady and tell her how I esteem her noble life and her solicitude for the needy and the distressed and love and long to see her once more: but as it is, please give to her all my esteem and respects, before you give them to any of our relatives: for what wonder they do something for us? Wonder is how she does and does so much. While I am reading the books you sent, I see that in the Telugu provinces, the new life that is struggling to find expression all over India, has been sweeping over our bretheren there. The Andhra-Sabha आंध्रसभा is a great and grand movement but the question of getting that province separated from the Tamil one is not ennobling. But what pained me most and what was but a natural corollary from the desire of petty provincialisms was that the national shouts were आंध्र माता की जय! In this little thing and straw, we see the direction of an ominus wind to come. This is one of the unhealthy reactions of the grand Swadeshi movement and must be corrected before it is too late. The Swadeshi connected in Bengal with the little partition question brought in this reaction. Every province wants to be separated, and shouts and invokes long life to itself! But how can the