Consolidation and propaganda in the Andamans
In the first part of this narrative I have given an account, not of prisoner’s life and condition only but mainly that of the political convicts in the prison-house of the Andamans. The Story is brought down to the year 1914, The struggle, the courage, the tenacity of will, and the fight for principle of the political prisoners during the period, had their effect on other Hindu prisoners in that jail and had instilled into them the spirit of social and cooperative endeavour. They had gradually begun to realise the meaning and significance of words like ‘country’ ‘religion’, and ‘service’ in relation to themselves and to the larger community of which they were also social units. The Mussulman Warder as also the Mussulman prisoner had each his copy of the Koran to read in the jail. And, sometimes they apparently read the Koran to put off their normal work. This facility was dented to their Hindu brethren in that jail. These had no religious books given them to read and understand. They could keep none of them themselves; and it was an offence to read them openly. Either the superior officer strictly banned them, or the lesser man-the Mussulman Jamadar - would not get them any copy of their religious scriptures. If a few of them even on a holiday gathered together sometime to read and hear the Ramayana of Tulsidas, the Muslim warder or Jamadar would suddenly disperse the assembly by force and loud abuse. I had seen these happenings myself, and several times, looking at the pictures in such a book, they denounced as indecent; and they regarded it as a religious duty not to allow prisoners to see and read such stuff. Not tolerating such interference and coercion, the political prisoners often carried the matter to the superior officers. And this knocking at the door resulted, in the long run, in the prisoners’ freedom to keep a religious book. After his day’s work, from that time onwards, the prisoner could openly keep also a slate and pencil to con his alphabets and write them.
There was extreme partiality on the part of the authorities as regards their holidays. On a Mohamedan holiday, the Mussulman prisoner was allowed to spend the whole day in idleness and free talk with his fellow-men. The Hindu prisoner, on the other hand, got very few holidays in the first instance. Some holidays were not even recognised as holidays for Hindu prisoners of that jail. And when they got the holiday at all, their warders and Jamadars gave them the Hobson’s choice at work or solitary confinement in their own cells. The prisoners at this threat went quietly to work for they knew by experience what the other alternative had meant for them. To put an end to this glaring partiality, I induced all of them to stop work and also joined them in the strike. When the Superintendent came on the spot and found the atmosphere too hot for him; he turned to me and spouted, “The Hindus shall have their due holidays but they must not make such a grievance of it. If they do so again, they shall be handled severely. I forgive them now for I do not ordinarily like to punish them.”
As I have written above, the prisoners were given the facility of keeping a slate and pencil. The question remained of procuring books for them. The ordinary prisoners came as a rule from families ignorant of books. If they ordered books, they would get instead parcels of rich pairs of shoes, never a book worth two annas apiece! To ask Government to provide books for them to learn their three R’s, was bound to prove mere waste of ink and paper. That a book or two was spared them was in itself an act of favour. I, therefore, got these books through our own parcels
from home, and distributed them widely among these prisoners. Elementary books of geography and history, readers and books on arithmetic-these I gave them. And days passed on in this arrangement.
Soon we set up a central organisation to do the work with method and precision.
I have already told of the beginning we had made to take within our fold, by solemn oath and declaration, prisoners who had no training whatever in the political work they had done. I have also narrated the efforts made to educate them in the ideals of social service which included the service of their country. I had begun later on to include in that organisation ordinary prisoners as welland to instil into them similar principles. These prisoners when they went for outside work after six months’ or one year’s stay in that prison, started similar organisations in the centres of their work. It was these organisations which imposed a rising scale of fees from one anna in a rupee to eight annas in five rupees, as an educational cess, on persons in their respective localities. Some of the skilled political prisoners earned as much as forty rupees a month. And when the political prisoners had won freedom for work outside, they spread the net wider and got ordinary traders and other independent men to subscribe to this education fund, and also to interest themselves in the general politics of their country. Those who were pledged by solemn oath to carry on the task, had also done their work splendidly in the districts where they went. The political prisoners and others had got themselves acquainted with the independent settlers in these islands. These had come there on business or on mechanical jobs in factories, as doctors and lawyers or as officers in other lines of service. They were all, more or less, educated men, and they also, as the result of our acquaintance with them, had pledged themselves to Swadeshi. They paid five percent of their monthly income to our organisation. Some of them took advantage of our institution to learn Hindi, both to read and write. We had organised a library of select books on Constitutional History, on the History of Politics, on Economics and on the Science of Government, according to a list I had already drawn up for the purpose. They either purchased these books for themselves, or read them from our library. The funds of the association and its general management were looked after by us without any correspondence or written constitution. We had to work secretly because we had to count upon the opposition of the jail officers to our programme.
We provided the prisoners with books, slates, pencils and readers to begin with. There was yet another difficulty in our way. The jailor was sure to question them how these books had come to them. Many a prisoner had suffered punishment for keeping books and writing material with him. If a warder told that he had received the book from me, he was sure to lose his job or be sent back to work on the ‘Kolu’ He was forbidden to talk with a political prisoner. What then of accepting a book from him? Therefore, when a warder went out on a holiday the book had to be sent in with him as a gift from a relative. So we spread the readers among prisoners in this jail.
More than this difficulty there was another which we had to overcome and that was the reluctance of the prisoner himself. Whenever one asked him to begin reading and writing, the stock question that he put was, “What was the use of it?” If we dwelt on their intellectual benefit, or their national importance, it was out of his power to understand us. Again, Mr. Barrie was particularly cross with those who liked to read and write. And the prisoner had no desire to incur Mr. Barrie’s displeasure. By no means. Still we tried to educate those who came in close contact with us; we offered him to teach English as soon as he had finished his Marathi; we showed him its advantage by pointing out that it would lead to some post associated with the office; that he would be a ‘Munshi’ or a clerk. That would mean an honour for him. Many prisoners leamt to read and write because that would lead them to that post. There were also a few who learnt the language for its own sake, because it was their mother-tongue, or it would enable them to read religious works in that language, There were also some among them who learnt to spell their rudiments after they had passed their youth, and only as a national call. All honour to them.
How strenuous the work was you can imagine from the fact that we had to begin everything in that education from the very beginning. We had to teach them the A. B. C. of their vernacular alphabets; we had to take them through the formation of words through these alphabets; we had to plod on with them that they might remember them, write them and make them into simple sentences. And all this work had to be done secretly and regularly. We had to wheedle them into pursuing their lessons from day to day. Sometimes the prisoners would not accept the slates and pencils that we gave them free for writing their lessons; others refused to talk to us for fear we might open to them the subject of learning. We gave them tips to induce them to read and write. We paid them in the currency of the Andamans. Rupees, annas and pies were not so important a currency with them as what they called “Sukka”, that is, payment in quantities in tobacco. If we gave a prisoner two pinchfuls of tobacco he would bestow upon his teacher the favour of reading his lessons with him for fifteen to twenty minutes at the most. This heartbreaking work was hard to pursue from day to day, and my collaborators simply refused to go on with it after a few days’ experience. This was a waste of time, energy and talent, as they put it to me. They were themselves graduates and double graduates and it was hard on them to be giving lessons in rudiments to ignorant, dull-headed, disinclined pupils like the thieves, dacoits, murderers, swindlers, and hardened criminals in this jail. While teaching them the three R’s they had so many times to flatter them, and break their heads over them. Whenever this mood came over myself or other teachers, I would talk in the following words, “You think it a waste of your energy; what better work can you do for your country, what more important work can you accomplish while you are here? He who would assure me of such work, I shall relieve him at once of this drudgery. But to waste one’s time in idle brooding or in useless discussion is worse than this drudgery. For this, at least, means to raise the fallen by teaching them to read and write; it is to infuse into them the right sense of looking at things; it is to imbue them with the spirit of service and mutual help. Is it not service of the country, the hardest it may be, but sterling service all the same? Remember again, that we pass resolutions to establish schools of primary education, free and compulsory all over the country. Some men must come forward to teach in these schools. Some must dedicate their lives for this work. Why then, not do that thankless task ourselves? Are we only meant for drawing fat salaries and filling top-jobs and passing on drudgery and hard work to others? Is this not unfair? Is it just for us who call ourselves servants of the people? Real and faithful national work must begin with the uplift of the down-fallen and the down-trodden. Great missionaries in the West dedicate their learning to the spread of education among prisoners and in the jails of their own countries. In Russia thousands of revolutionaries have spent their lives in going from village to village and educating the masses, their unfortunate and ignorant brethren. Why then should we grudge to do it here? By our teaching we are not only making them learn to spell their rudiments; but we are opening the windows of their soul upon the world, and making them understand their best interests in life. In contact with us, they come to know of their country, of their nation, and of their people. They imbibe right notions about them from us. When we tell them stories of great men from our history of the past, light shines in their eyes. Are they the really fallen ones? Then what are we? We were not bom emancipated. If we have improved and are ’twice- born’ now, they also can improve and take their rank with us. Hence, so long as we cannot do better work than this, that long we must do this, for that is real national service, however laborious, disappointing and nerve-racking it may be. To educate the fallen into seeing right and feeling right, to give them as much of literary, intellectual, moral and national education as it is in our power to give them is a duty we must do as long as we are in this prison.”
As we kept on working with this faith, gradually there arose from among these outcasts of society men so generous, so selfless, so pure in life and conduct, so strong of purpose, so tenacious of will, that their zeal in the national cause put to shame some of the best workers among us. And before the former self-praise became a fatuity and a shame.
We started a library
Having provided reading books and writing material for ordinary prisoners in the jail, I set myself to the task of founding a decent library for the use of the political prisoners themselves. We called upon all of them to put their own collection of books together. Seeing the circular, Mr. Barrie, as usual, strongly opposed the move. He realised that we were bent upon carrying it out, and communicated to the Superintendent that the political prisoners were unwilling to part with their valuable collection of books and hand it over into the common stock. He brought forward his own pawns to support the move. These good men informed the Superintendent that they were opposed to this common collection, whereupon the Superintendent asked us how we could bring allthe hooks together and form a common library, when a large number of political prisoners disapproved of that proposal. I proposed to the Superintendent to have a referendum on that subject, and he would know the truth of the matter. On this Mr. Barrie went round and threatened evcry-one of them that if they voted for a common library, he would bum such books from it as bore pencil marks on them or notes in their margin, by one who was not the owner of those books.
Inspite of this and other threats by Mr. Barrie, when the Superintendent came the next day to sound our opinion, all of us voted in favour except the two or three among us who were the henchmen of Mr. Barrie. As regards Mr. Barrie’s threat of burning the books, I said, “in the proposed collection, I have my own precious and valuable books worth three hundred rupees; and I must have a library in this prison for free and common use by all the political prisoners, and I do not mind if you burn my books out of the collection. Every prison has a library of its own provided by Government. But none of us can use it. Now we start a library on our own, and we lend our books for that purpose. We have sought your permission to help us. Why then should you find it hard to grant our request?” The Superintendent was a man of progressive views. He agreed to our proposal and started a library, only omitting from the collection the books of those who had objected to it. Every Sunday a political prisoner could go to the library and get such books issued to him as he wanted for his reading during the week. The library gave them an opportunity of reading books on a variety of subjects, and such of our political prisoners as had no chance of ordering books from home, could read them freely in the library. Those of us who could order out books from home, timed our orders in a manner that the parcels came to each one of us one after the other; and not all at the same time. Again, we arranged matters between us that each parcel should contain a different set of books. The avoidance of overlapping in time and books, enabled us to read many books and on many subjects, without multiplying copies of the same books. We procured in this manner books in Bengali, Hindi, Panjabi and Sanskrit without unnecessary burden upon a single individual. We had a parcel of books addressed to one or the other of us. So we had a full and growing stock of new books and of literary and religious magazines. And these kept us abreast of news in India many times, to fight hard for magazines. We have already referred to Mr. Barrie’s way of assessing their worth. But a level-headed Superintendent was in charge for some time, and he showed considerable good sense in the choice of books. As regards magazines, however; he dared not go against the opinion of Mr. Barrie. For Mr. Barrie, he knew, would not hesitate to report against him to the Chief Commissioner that the Superintendent was giving to us magazines full of seditious writing. Hence magazines like the Modem Review and the Indian Review found access to our library only after taking up the matter with the Commissioner himself. I always used to argue that the magazines which had not been proscribed by the Government of India ought not to be banned in the Andamans. And there should be no objection to their reading by a class of educated men like the political prisoners in this place. For a book or a magazine which had passed the thousand-eyed scrutiny of censorship in India, must be considered free from sedition and from any other objectionable reading matter in them. That a man of the intellectual calibre of Mr. Barrie should sit in judgment upon us was to declare that censorship purblind. This argument weighed with the Commissioner and we got these magazines all right for our perusal in the library. However, with the change of that Superintendent, Mr. Barrie found his chance once more to interfere with our work. Sometime he would tear off pages from a magazine; at another time he would blacken the objectionable portion in it with an ink-roller from his printing press; so on and so forth. And, yet, we got what we wanted and fought for more. Once or twice Mr. Barrie intercepted parcels of books which had been sent to us after the lapse of a year, and informed us that they were not received. We had information that they had been delivered in the jail. We, therefore, wrote to the Superintendent who discovered that they had been received a month before. Mr. Barrie had to look very small in that episode. He found it very hard to make up with the Superintendent. To obtain books and magazines, we had sometimes to strike our work. We had opened the library against his wish, and he gave us considerable trouble over it.
Passing through all these difficulties, the library became a model institution in our jail. It contained from one to two thousand books in different languages and on different subjects. It contained choicest books on these subjects. Those who had kept aloof from it at the start, now began to take full advantage of it by sending their own books to that collection. Even the Superintendent became proud of that institution. He sanctioned new cupboards for it, gave it An independent hall to house in, and got all old and tattered books hound for it. He appointed three political prisoners to supervise that work and to take proper care of the books. They knew the art of book-binding, did their job thoroughly well, so much so that Government began sending its orders for book-binding to the jail from that time onwards. Some of them were excellent photographers, and they got orders for photo-enlargements from European officers in our jail, with the permission of the authorities themselves. Thus, these were released from hard manual labour, and got an opportunity for doing work that was entirely to their taste. Of course, these relatively easy jobs fell to the lot of those who were the favourites of Mr. Barrie. They did not go to those who had done their best work in that line. Mr. Barrie and they put spokes in our wheel and he did his best to pay his debt back to those who had obliged him.
The Origin of Vainayak Vritta
The library contained biographies of Raja Ram Mohan Roy, Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar and other great men of Bengal in the original Bengali language. It included works of Navin Sen Roy and Rabindranath Tagore; and books by Jogeshchandra and others in original Bengali. It had complete Sanskrit editions of the Mahabharat, the Ramayan and the Yoga Vashistha. Lives and works of Vivekananda and Ramkrishna Paramahansa, and magazines bearing on the subject of religion and philosophy constituted a special feature of the library. We had these in duplicate and triplicate copies, so that the political prisoners read them repeatedly and with avidity. It was through the study of these books thut I mastered the Bengali language then. While in London and when I was engaged on the study of all available material for my book on the Indian Mutiny of 1857, I came across a work on the subject written in Bengali by Babu Rajanikanta. The book was styled “The History of the Sepoy War.” I had it read to me by a Bengali friend in London. I knew at that time to read and speak in Bengali - But I could not master the script and was unable to write in Bengali. I mastered it later on, and I can write it now; yet I must say that while I can make them out when I read Bengali books, they somehow slip from my memory when I undertake to write Bengali. Life and sayings of Ramkrishna Paramahansa. Reminiscences of Rabindranath Tagore, his dramas like Chitra, I read all of them from the library of the Silver Jail. I then turned to the study of old Bengali as in the Ramayana and in the Mahabharata written in Bengali metre known as the ‘payara’ metre. This special metre was used by Michael Madhusudan Dutt in his own Bengali poems. He slightly modified it to suit his own blank verse. His poems like ‘Meghanad Vadha’, ‘Kurukshetra’ and others made me familiar with this form of unrhymed verse. It taught to me to appreciate English blank verse. And, ot last, I succeeded in adapting it to Marathi metre after the model of English blank verse. I have employed it to the full in my longer narrative verse known as ‘Gomantak’. Since then it has come to be known as ‘Vainayak Vritta.’
As for Marathi books, we had a good collection of the works of ancient Marathi poets from Dnyaneshwar to Moropant inclusive. We had works on scientific subjects like those of Dikshit. We had Marathi serial readers for the use of ordinary prisoners; we had works on Indian History in Marathi from its early days to the close of the Maratha Period, and a special, comprehensive selection of books on Maratha History. We had, besides, a full and complete translation in Marathi ofthe Mahabharata, all the Baroda series of the Dwaita and the Advaita Bhashyas or commentaries and the translation into Marathi ofthe entire text ofthe ‘Brahma Sutras’. In all, this section came to about two hundred volumes. My friend and collaborator, Mr. Wainanrao Joshi of Nagpur, made a full use of this collection.
All the Hindi books in the library had to be paid for through our own pockets. We ordered them in a large number because I was of opinion that every Indian should study Hindi as his national language. I purchased for that purpose selected Hindi books, magazines and readers, and stocked them in our library. Later on, there was, by far, a large addition of political prisoners from the Punjab and the U. P., and Hindi books began to come in in a growing number.
The principal and the largest section in our library, of course, consisted of English books. Herbert Spencer’s volumes on Synthetic Philosophy, including his ‘First Principles’, and Sociology and Ethics; all the works of John Stuart Mill; of Darwin, Huxley and Tyndals. and Haeckel; the writings of Carlyle and Emerson; of historians like Macaulay and Gibbon; of poets like Shakespeare, Milton and Pope, constituted its main feature. We had in it Abbot’s Life of Napoleon, the Life of Prince Bismark, of Garibaldi and Mazzini, with Mazzini’s complete works. The library contained historical works bearing on England, Italy, America and India. We had novels ranging from Charles Dickens to Count Leo Tolstoy; and we had works of Kropatkin. The library had English writings of Vivekananda and Ramtirtha; works of the German Historian Trietske and of the German PhilosopherNietzche. Plato’s Republic, Aristotle’s Politics and Bluntchili’s Theory of the State as well as Rousseau’s Social Contract, found their place on its shelves. Our political friends had thus succeeded in bringing into one place the most representative collection of books on subjects of general interest and of deep educational value, in almost all the vernaculars of India, and in the English language. It was a fine library of about two thousand volumes available to all the inmates of the Silver Jail; and all could profit by it, if they had the desire in them to read and improve. Books on Theosophy abounded in this collection. We had to carry on a long struggle for securing works on politics for this library. Excepting one liberal-minded Superintendent, all other officers of this jail regarded this library with deep suspicion. It was an eye-sore to them. When a high official from India happened to visit this jail, the first concern of Mr. Barrie was to hide these works on politics from the official’s gaze. Mr. Barrie was afraid that if the officer saw them, he was sure to take him to task for it. But as time went on, everything passed muster with him. In course of time the officers themselves offered their collection of books for keeping in our library, and issued books from the libraiy for their own personal use. One of these officers presented to our library all his books on theosophy from the works of Mrs. Annie Besant down to the latest work of Krishna Murti on “My Gurudeo”.
I read all these books carefully. Not a single book in that library I had left unread. Some of them I read over again, and I made my companions study works on politics, political histoiy and economics with particular attention. I made them write summaries and discourses on them so that the knowledge they had derived from these books should remain a permanent treasure with them. Our Sunday meetings developed, in course of time, into lectures by them on the different subjects they had studied. Books like Bluntchill’s ‘The Theory of the State’ I taught them in the spirit of a regular college class.
All the Sanskrit books in the library belonged to us. None was bought from outside. Most of them were translations with the Sanskrit text embodied in them. All Upanishads, the Rig Veda, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, the Brahma Sutras, the Sankhya texts, the Karikas of Ishwar Chandra, the Yoga Sutras, all these works we studied here in translations and along with their originals.
Whenever a new book in Bengali, Marathi, Sanskrit or English was published, we ordered a copy of it for our library, if we found it worth having, Thus though we were far away from our homes, and from the world, we could know everything that was happening there, and had our finger on the pulse of every moment in that world. Away from it, far far away from it, as we were, these movements and this new information communicated a new hope to our hearts, and a new energy to our brain. I used several other ways to inspire the hearts of my political friends with the highest sentiment, long before the library had taken its present form. For instance I set them a question to state the names of national leaders in Indian history from the fall of the Peshwas down to our times. I told them I would select from them the twelve who top the list by the total number of votes against their names. The discussion went on for a week and the names were at last submitted, In the list there was no name from among the leaders of the Mutiny of I857. One alone had mentioned the name of Laxmibai of Jhansi. I called them together and discussed the mutiny with them in several meetings through lectures, conversation, and by questions and answers. I brought the book on the Indian Mutiny by Rajanikant. I pointed out to them how his designation that it was the Sepoy War was a mistake. I showed that it was really a revolutionary movement, a war of independence an a larger scale. Thereafter every one of them knew who were Tatya Tope, Nanasaheb Peshwa, Kunwar Singh and Laxmibai. They became familiar names to them.
My study of the Koran
Thomas a Kempis’ “Imitation of Christ” was a favourite book of mine. When I began the study of Koran in England, I read it first in its English translation. Then I turned to its Bengali version. Back to India I read it in Marathi. I read it in the original with a Mohomaden friend who always told me that its beauty and spirit could only be felt by its study in the tongue it was delivered. I read the scripture page by page with him, washing my hands and feet and sitting apart and with my mind concentrated on the text. I made my friend recite the suras and translate them into Hindi far me, as we studied the text together from day to day, at a stated hour, and in a devoted frame of mind. I then read Mohomad Ali’s modern version of Koran in English. I had already read the English Bible twice. I had studied the ten principal Upanishads, finishing each of them in one month, and taking one whole year to complete them. I used to read them and ponder every night with deep thought and meditation. All of a sudden I fell upon the Yoga Vashistha, and I found it of such absorbing interest that I have come to regard it ever since as the best work on the Vedanta Philosophy. The propositions were so logical, the verse is so beautiful, and the exposition is so thorough and penetrating that the soul loses itself in raptures over it. Such a fine combination of philosophy and poetry is a gift reserved only for Sanskrit poets. Look at the eleventh chapter ofthe Bhagwat Gita, and remark the manifestation in it of the Divine Spirit as cosmic force, embracing in its sweep both the One and the Manifold. Note, again, the verses in Kalidas on the manifestation of Vishnu, or note in his Kumar Sambhava those grand lines in which the Poet compresses the vastness and majesty of thought into the setting of a beautiful lake-like flowing stanza of charming verse.
And, indeed, there cannot be any antagonism between poetry and philosophy. Poetry is the expression of beauty, and that alone is beauty, which communicates ineffable and perfect bliss; and nothing can bring perfect bliss but truth. “Beauty is truth and truth beauty.” And that alone is truth which communicates to the soul the feeling of doubtless and deepest satisfaction above the conflicting suggestions ofthe senses, the emotions and the reasoning faculty of man. That is peace, that is pure contemplation of truth, that is ecstatic beauty and joy. Hence the highest poetry fulfils itself by locking herself in deep excellences of truth.
As I went on studying Vedanta Philosophy, I began to experience one feeling above everything else. And it was that the study of these books relaxed every fibre and nerve of my mind, and merged me completely in the contemplation ofthe Universal, to the extent that I completely turned away from fruitless action in the world of man. It destroyed my will to power and my power to act. “The highest attainment was inaction.” This text resounded continuously in my brain. And words like ’the service of my country’, ‘altruism and humanity’ faded into the back-ground as useless phantoms. Before this supreme goal, they appeared as transient and childish pastimes. A similar feeling of higher pessimism was breathed upon me when I read master-works on geology and astronomy. But for different reasons. These works describing as they did the earth and the starry heavens, brought home to me infinity of time and space, and, correspondingly puniness of man and the briefness of his life on this tiny globe. Why then struggle, why work and strive, why not live like lotus- eaters? That is what I felt. For all this was to end and to be lost in the depth of space and time. The study of Vedanta did not fill the heart of man with this kind of cynicism and despair. It did commend inaction; but in order to reveal to us the deeper joy and the higher realisation of our being, it exhorted man to cast off spurious dolls, but to endow him with something higher, deeper and more abiding than the fleeting pleasures of this world. In Vedanta the abandonment of action was in itself supreme self-realisation and supreme bliss. Not so the mood of despair and utter futility brought on by the study of geology and astronomy. In Vedanta, man is the master and the maker of his being, the spark of the divine, the emanation from the fount of life. To Science, man is the creature of nature, and subject to her mutations, and heading for the final dissolution of the universe into the vast emptiness of space and time. When I used to be lost in the reading of the Yoga Vashistha, the coil of rope I was weaving dropped automatically from my hands; and, for hours on end I lost the sense of possessing the body and the senses associated with that body. My foot would not move and my hand was at a stand still. I felt the deeper yearning to surrender it all. All propaganda, all work seemed such a worthless task, a sheer waste of life. At last the mind and the matter asserted their sway over the body and swung it back to work again.
On the other hand, when I read history and the other sciences, the will to power asserted itself with tremendous impact. When I read about revolutionary upheavals in the East and West, tottering thrones and empires to their fall, the news went to my brain like heady wine, and I felt that I should forthwith break the bars of my prison-door and escape, in order to hold up the flag of independent India, and plant it on the Himalayas. I felt I must rush into the fray, be in the thick of the battle, fight and win, or lose and be in the dust. These conflicts were all on the battlefield of my mind, and when I recovered from them, I used often to laugh at myself. What a plaything I was to be so tossed between these emotions-But! This is not the occasion for a synthesis of these questionings, imaginings and feelings. Hence, I mark the end of these musings with a ‘Yet’, and hasten on with the main narrative.
A travelling library
There were educated men even among ordinary prisoners. And of those whom we had taught to read and write, we found some men of talent and intelligence who proved to be keen on reading books of history and other serious subjects. We had to open for them another library well-stocked with Hindi and Marathi books. Where were we to open it? And who will provide books for it? The officers were dead against providing such reading facility for ordinary prisoners. They would connive at their chewing tobacco, carrying tales, and indulging openly in any unseemly vice. But if ten of them were to open and manage a reading room for themselves, it would be a serious offence in their eyes. Hence, we had to provide them this convenience on our own, and through an organisation we had already started for outdoor propaganda and work, mention of which we have already made in a former chapter. From the secret funds ofthis secret association we procured books on Economics, history, fiction and novel, and made them accessible to ordinary prisoners. We ordered them on the address of Hindu officers outside the jail. We did not stock them in one place, and we circulated them among intending readers. By turns the books passed from hand to hand and were duly returned to the place from where they were being circulated among the readers. The movement spread all over the settlement, and we added Hindi and Marathi newspapers to the circulation of books. I had also prepared a list of books on general politics which were read accordingly by the Hindu officers themselves. Every man who earned a monthly salary of seventy- five or hundred rupees had his small library at home full of such select books. We were always pressing for such a home library and we largely succeeded in our efforts.
Another advantage of training ordinary Hindu prisoners was that as soon as they could read and write in Hindi and English, and had learnt English up to the Third Standard, they could get jobs as Munshis. Thus many of our trained prisoners had gradually spread over the whole island, in districts and at the centre, as clerks, writers, munshis and petty officers. They were freed from their hardships of manual labour and could save from four to five rupees per month. And they became available to us for our propaganda of “Swadeshi” all over the place, among prisoners as well as free citizens, without am interference with their settled and usual work. And there was a distinct improvement in their private and personal life. They were andlectually better and morally purer. There were less quarrels among them because they were now free from the common vices of their class like drinking and theft, riotiy and beating, wickedness and deceit. The main object of putting them in prison and segregating them from society in this settlement was thus bearing its fruit. It was for the Government to introduce these measures, but it never cared for their improvement, for that was not its ideal and goal. What it cared for most was to exact as much work from them as it could, and to punish them severely if they failed to give that much work. The officers appointed on prisons had no better outlook than this, and we were
forced to undertake the work of improving them without their knowledge. Otherwise, there was no need for secrecy in such a laudable enterprise.