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

Resolved to go out at any cost
As soon as I had completed my one year in the Silver Jail, I began sending
petition after petition to be sent out for work. During one year and a half, I had the
misfortune to be caught by Mr. Barrie and appear twice before the Magistrate on charges
framed by him against me. First, on having written an anonymous letter to a person
outside the prison for some news and press-cuttings from him. Unfortunately, the man
to whom I had entrusted the letter happened to be Mr. Barrie's spy upon my move-
ments and the letter went straight to him. I had not mentioned the name of the man to
whom the letter was to be delivered. A certain man would meet him at a certain place
to whom the letter was to be given. That was the direction I had given to Mr. Barrie's
man. Hence that man's name could not come out in the trial. But I was punished for it
by one month's solitary confinement. The next occasion for coming into Mr. Barrie's
clutches was the first strike. I had discussed in a letter how the strike was to be
organised and carried on, and I was about to circulate it among the political prisoners.
On a sudden my room was searched. The Officers had just stepped in when I threw the
letter away. Somebody got hold of it and handed it over to the authorities. It was
written in Modi script and the Officers could not ascertain who was its writer. Mr.
Barrie got it read by one of his confidents. But the political prisoner dared not depose
before me, when the case was on, that it was written by me. For he feared his other
friends in the prison. Whereupon Mr. Barrie got his Bengali clerk to declare that the
letter was written in Bengali, and to read it out before the Superintendent. But a
friend on our side gave evidence to prove that the letter was not written in Bengali.
"Damn me", said he, "if a single Bengali alphabet appears in that letter." The
Superintendent was non-plussed, but Mr. Barrie held his own, and shouted, "Oh, Sir,
these political prisoners have conspired not to give true evidence." At last the clerk's
word was accepted as truth and I was sentenced to be manacled for a week.
While so manacled
I appealed to the Chief Commissioner that he should make a thorough
investigation and decide if the letter, put In evidence, was written in Bengali or Modi.
The complaint was against false evidence about the letter in question. It did not
matter to me if the sentence passed upon me was not annulled. The Commissioner
replied that the letter contained not a single word in Bengali. The clerk had deposed
otherwise and had read the letter clearly and boldly in the Bengali script and had
interpreted it to mean that I had advised the prisoners to go on hunger-strike. The
Superintendent, when he knew of the report of the Commissioner upon the letter, was
simply in a rage. He sent for the clerk and asked Mr. Barrie to go out. He threatened the
clerk with punishment if he were not to tell the whole truth. The clerk was terribly
frightened and blurted out, "Sir, I am only a prisoner; I have to do what Mr. Barrie orders
me to do; I swore that the letter was in Bengali and I drew upon my wit to read its
contents as if it was a Bengali script. It is not so, but I read what I was made to repeat in
original Bengali. It was all under Mr. Barrie's instruction that I did it." The

Superintendent was beside himself with anger, but to save Mr. Barrie he dismissed the
clerk as the guilty person, he removed him from the job and informed me that, as I said it,
the letter was not in Bengali and that he had taken proper steps against the clerk who had
misled the court.

Mr. Barrie was scolded

The Superintendent gave it hot to Mr. Barrie and warned him against practising
such a deceit upon him. Whenever, in rare cases, the political prisoners taught Mr. Barrie
a lesson, he used to be as meek as a lamb with them during the succeeding weeks. He
then recollected that he was an Irishman. He said to us, "Oh my friends, [ am an
Irishman; when I was young I hated the English as you hate them now. I have been a
conspirator myself; behave like this now simply because I am a government servant, and
I have to carry out orders. Why do you consider me as your enemy? If you suffer, it is the
government to blame and not I. I am innocent." He used to be loquacious and ended his
rigmarole with an apt story. He used to give us, during these weeks of expiation, a paper
to read as an occasional act of favour. And we did make a full use of such facility and
thanked him for it, taking him to be honest for the time being, and wasting no more
flattering words on him. For we had to give even the devil his due.

Excepting tehse two cases against me, the rest of my period was completed
without any flaw. As such, I kept on sending petitions for out door work as it was my due
after the lapse of one year and a half in that prison. For other prisoners who had been sent
out before me had not only cases against them, but had also gone on strike. My brother
had already put in two and a half years. Sometime I got an answer as follows: "You are
not a political prisoner; you are classed as an ordinary prisoner. And I used to reply,
"Ordinary prisoners include thieves, robbers and dacoits. They also have among them
some who have broken open prisons, escaped from them, are hardened criminals and
sentenced several times. But they are also detailed for out-door work and have become
petty officers and jamadars in this prison. If I am an ordinary prisoner, then I must get the
same concessions as they. I should have been let out long ago. You should have
appointed me as a petty officer or a jamadar. For I have not against me any charges of
breach of discipline in this prison." At long last, the Chief Commissioner wrote
categorically that

I was not to be sent out

for any work outside the prison-walls. The reason he had given for this final decision was
that though my conduct in that prison was exemplary, I had a very dangerous past behind
me. If the past conduct was the criterion of decision, where was the point in the remark
that my present conduct was unexceptionable? The sum and substance of it all was, that I

may behave well or ill, I was always to be treated as a prisoner. There was no getting out
of that position even for a slight concession.
While I was being dealt with in this manner inside the prison, the political
prisoners who were sent for work outside the prison were being treated more harshly than
before. All of us had begun to think that it was part of our duty to make an organised
move to retaliate in behalf of Indu Bhushan the account of whose tragic end I have given
in the previous pages. They had misrepresented him and they had sought to prove that
he had done himself to death in a fit of insanity. We felt that we must do something to
set things right in this affair. And we decided after considerable discussion and
deliberation that strike was the only weapon that could bring the authorities to their
senses. We further felt that we must be recognised as political prisoners not only for
purposes of maltreatment, but also for purposes of due concessions, that whether we were
kept inside the prison or sent out on the settlement, we must be given comparatively light
work to do, some writing work inside according to our ability, or some light work outside
according to our status. Nothing should be forced upon us simply to undermine our health
as was being purposely clone then. Political prisoners, other than those who had been
transported here on life-sentence, should be treated like ordinary prisoners, so on and so
forth. We put down these demands in a serial order, and we selected two of us
as our representatives to submit the petition personally to the authorities- In the petition
I had pointed out that prisoners on transportation for life did not get even the ordinary
facilities of other prisoners, like sending and receiving letters, or occasional meeting
with relatives and friends, or facility to read and write, or to be taken up as petty officers.
We were not recognised as ordinary prisoners entitled to these concessions and we got no
facilities as prisoners belonging to a special class. If we claimed any rights as political
prisoners, we were put off with the excuse that ordinary prisoners would resent the
partiality shown to us, and the prison-officers would not be a party to such a decision. To
sum up, we were subjected, as political prisoners, to all the disabilities of prison-life in
India and the Andamans, without the compensating facilities afforded to ordinary
prisoners in all the jails of India, as well as in the Cellular Jail of the Andamans. I ended
the petition with a solemn warning that no longer shall we tolerate such treatment of
political prisoners in the jail presided over by Mr. Barrie. 'No relief, no concession, then
no work'—that was our final resolution on the matter. And, in the carrying out of this
solemn covenant, we were prepared for the worst. Our petition, like all other petitions
before it, went for nothing; and strike was the weapon we decided to employ. One by
one, the political prisoners outside began to repair to their cells in the Silver Jail. The
prisoners inside stopped all work on the fixed day and thus the strike began. This was the
second strike during my period in the prison of the Andamans.
My brother had joined the strike on its first day. Prisoners were handled severely
for this species of non-cooperation. Batch after batch of civil resisters was hauled up
before the Superintendent, and sentences were passed upon them of putting on handcuffs,
or chains on the arms, or shackles on the feet, or solitary confinement in the cells. Every
block of the Silver Jail, and every room in that block witnessed the scene of prisoners
hanging with their manacled hands tied to the top above. Some tried to squat on the

ground with the claims on their hands and feet. Others offered stern resistance when
shackles were being put on their feet. Others deliberately broke the rule of perfect silence
and kept on talking loudly with one another. Others, again, refused to stand up, when
Barrie would come to see them. Most of them had stopped work. When Mr. Barrie came,
the petty officers announced him as 'Sircar'. Ordinary prisoners, off their guard, would
stand up. But the political prisoners, to a man, firmly sat upon the ground; and it took
three men to dislodge them, each one from his seat and put him on his feet. Mr. Barrie
would not like the exhibition of enforced respect, and he could not continue this
exhibition endlessly. The political prisoners were given no food as retaliation against
their stopping work.
Food stopped or cut down
Some of these were given very scanty food to eat and others were put on conjee
without salt from week-end to week-end. Some skirmishing also began between the
guardians of law and these passive resisters. So there were obvious signs of impending
disaster all about the prison. When the news came to my ears I sent for Mr. Barrie and
warned him to take care. I added, "They are at present only civil resisters. They disobey
the law and you punish them for disobedience. And I don't blame you for that. But if you
are going to punish them in a manner to infringe your own regulations, then these
infuriated young men will not fail to retaliate. They will return
blow for blow
They realise that you will crush them. But they are like vipers. Even a worm
turns; and they will not fail to sting you to the quick before you are able to scotch them.
The responsibility of all this will rest on your petty officers who hammer them, and who
set on each one of them, three of your creatures to pinion them and beat them down. Your
petty officers are cruel, they are bullies and cowards. They abuse and they beat. The
Pathan, the Punjabi, and the Mussalman—they are your agents in this nefarious business.
But, be sure about it, abuse will meet with abuse and blow will meet with blow, before
long. Our political prisoners are up to that game if you would have it. The Pathan and the
Mussulman petty officers will stand aghast when they get such abuses from them—the
choicest abuses, the like of which they may never have heard before. And abuse
invariably leads to blows. And I have already warned you of the consequences; so you
had had better muzzle your men." This warning was not without its effect on Mr. Barrie.
He misrepresented me, all the same, to his superiors as the arch-instigator of the strike,
and of violence that would come in its wake. I had not yet gone on strike myself. For, I
was expecting every day my annual letter from home. I had asked the political prisoners
to wait till they had received their letters. Besides, my letter always contained fuller news
of events in India, and that had afforded to all of us ample matter for discussion later on.
It used to be circulated throughout the prison for perusal by political prisoners. As the
time was near for receiving the letter, I had decided to postpone going on strike till the

receipt of that letter. As I have mentioned above, my brother had already stopped work
and joined the strike.
As the strike went on, Mr. Barrie began to meet with insult from every quarter, as
he had never done before that time. All the prisoners seemed to view things differently.
They behaved with perfect indifference. He tried his utmost to re-establish his influence
over them by striking terror into their hearts. How hard put to it he was! Sometime this
led to funny incidents. Among the political prisoners some knew English nominally, but
they • talked to Mr. Barrie in his own tongue like others. Mr. Barrie took it into his head
that these prisoners wielded influence over the rest, because they were able to speak to
him in English. He told them one day that they had no right to use English in their talks
with him. He said, "You do not know good English and, therefore, you must express
yourself like common prisoners in
Hindusthani alone."
Well, they began to act up to his precept. No sooner said than done. The very first
sentence they spoke in Hindi was to the effect, "We don't regard English as the language
of the Gods. You addressed us in English and we replied in English; that was all. It is not
a shame to us that we cannot speak English well; the more shameful thing, indeed, is that,
being born an Irishman, you do not know your mother-tongue which is Irish. It is a credit
to us that we don't talk such fine English as to make us forget our mother-tongue. You
ought to be ashamed that you speak English so well and altogether forget your native
Irish." Mr. Barrie, exposed to this barrage of Hindi sentences which all understood
so well in this prison, became an object of ridicule to all of them. They began to stare
at him with gaping eyes. Whenever he talked to us in English, they did not understand
him so well, and our answers to him in English lost all their significance and innuendo
for them. And though really crest-fallen, he used to stand to his ground as if he was a
hero and a victor. But now he stood thoroughly exposed, and every prisoner henceforth
answered him straight in Hindi; and more so the political prisoners than any one else.
Question and answer followed like an exchange of bullet-shots. The Northerners among
us were fine Hindi speakers. To Barrie they gave answers as he deserved. If he talked
to them politely, they returned the compliment in choicest Hindi. But if he was rough,
coarse and abusive to them, they retaliated in Hindi which he could never cope with in
abuse, satire, innuendo and brutal frankness. So he was confounded and scared by their
talk to them in Hindi. He would have fain returned to English, if it was possible for him
to eat his own words. I may give here a few samples of these quick repartees. One day
he said to a political prisoner in his usual way, "You, Hindusthanis, are all slaves." He
was full of exultation over this jibe, for he showed through it, he imagined, how he was
looking down upon them. Out came the prompt answer from a political prisoner,
"Indians, if they are slaves at all, are slaves of Englishmen. We are not your slaves.
You are the slave of slaves, for England holds Ireland in subjection. We Indians are
prepared to fight for freedom with our lives. But you serve those who throw a few
crumbs of office at you. You bark like dogs for the master who feeds them. You regard

as your own the British Empire that has enslaved your people as much as they have
enslaved us, and are proud to be the watch-dogs of that Empire. You bark and bite at us
because we do not recognise this Empire as our own." , This retort in Hindi to the
supercilious Mr. Barrie made all the prisoners giggle with laughter, and Mr. Barrie
became red in the face with shame and anger. It was he that had begun the discussion and
introduced politics, and he was floored in that discussion. The only recourse left to him
was to shout out. And he did shout,
No more of your Hindi, speak in English
But now the political prisoners would not listen to him. "You ordered us to speak
in Hindi. You forbade us to speak in English. Now we will stick to that order. No more of
English for us." Thenceforward not once did he say to any one that he must talk to him in
Hindi. He learnt the lesson of his life, and expressed a desire that we should all address
him in English alone.
Many things had happened in this prison to spoil its discipline and lower the
prestige of its authorities. And the resistance of political prisoners made that discipline
and prestige totter to their fall. All the weapons in the armoury of its officers had spent
themselves. Only caning remained to be used with such frequency as the other weapons
were used. The officers were at their wit's end what to do with us. They threatened us
to beat with cane, but none of us minded that threat. At last the Chief Commissioner
asked the Superintendent as also Mr. Barrie to make overtures to us. He told us through
them to return to work. He promised that he would give light work to us, and assured us
that he would see that the political prisoners would be sent out for work like ordinary
prisoners. And, lastly, he also promised that he would definitely take up our case
with the higher authorities to determine our status as a class of political prisoners. So,
some among us resumed work; and, as soon as it was resumed, they were given lighter
work to do, and they were also sent abroad. When we got the news, a change of opinion
began that we should not now strain too much. I had always considered it desirable that
my friends, the political prisoners, should have the freedom of going out for work in the
settlement, for I was sure that it would help me in my propaganda, and would pave the
way for my escape from the prison. So I advised, them to call off the strike and go to
work. If all of them were not treated equally in the matter of out-door work, we were free
to declare strike once again. Within a few days the prisoners resumed their normal life
and my brother was one of them. The officers kept their word and sent many political
prisoners on light work outside the prison, such as watching the coconuts, sweeping the
streets and so on. If they had continued this policy, the strike would have ended at once.
But they refused permission to the ring-leaders to work outside. My brother, Mr.
Wamanrao Joshi, Hotilal, Nani Gopal and two or three others were denied that right. Of
course, I was out of question. I had never given up my work even during the progress of
the strike, though I did not escape the charge that I was their ring-leader. It was well that
the political prisoners, who had been punished many more times than myself for
breach of discipline in and outside the prison, were chosen, after the strike, to be detailed

for that work as before. They had gone on strike as their last recourse against the tyranny
of their prison-life. I asked the officers why a thing that was just in their case should
not be so in mine. The only answer they could give me was the remark of the Chief
Commissioner that "my previous history in India had prevented them from doing so."
I answered to it that there were others like me involved in that history and
sentenced to life-imprisonment for the same offence; but they had got the relief which
was being denied to me. The previous record of that jail was that a prisoner was set free
to go out and work on the settlement without regard to his previous history, if in the
prison itself he had done nothing to violate its regulations. Besides, there were
instances in that record of those who had been granted the concession in spite of the fact
that they were prisoners on two to three years' sentence and were clapped in this jail for
the offence of breaking open and escaping from prisons in India. Invariably the reply
was that the Government of India had ordered not to give me that relief. How long and
for how many years was this ban to continue in my case? That they could not say
definitely I, therefore, decided to appeal directly to the Government of India.

They would not let me appeal

I was, therefore, in a fix. My brother was in the prison much earlier than I came
in. But even he was not being let out though he had been long assured of the concession.
While discussing and arguing in this fashion, the Superintendent of the jail said to me,
"Your protests are no doubt unanswerable, but, there is no doubt, it is you who encourage
the strike." To it my answer was, "But those who were actually in the strike have already
been sent out. Why do you then come in the way of one who, like me, has only
approved of the strike? Is my offence really graver than theirs? Is it not against all
laws of the British Code? Just consider why I had not encouraged strike so far, or if I
had done it, why did not my friends approve of it before? Why should there have been a
strike at the moment when it happened? Did I encourage Indu Bhushan to hang
himself? Did I teach Ullaskar to go mad? It is not I but the regulations of this jail, its
hard physical labour, its mental agonies, its insults, and its whole system that are to be
held responsible for the strike." This way of reasoning convinced the Superintendent
as also Mr. Barrie. Their stock answer was, "We are helpless; everything rested with the
Government of India. It is their orders which have compelled us to keep you in this
prison." While I was fighting out my case, a new episode occurred and matters were
carried to extremes. Among those political prisoners, who had held out to the last in the
last strike, there was a Bengali youth sixteen or seventeen years old. He was a Brahmin
lad from a respectable family. His name was

Nani Gopal

Nani Gopal was sentenced to fourteen years' rigorous imprisonment for throwing
a bomb on the running motor of a high police officer in Bengal. He was a lad of sixteen
and in spite of prison-regulations to the contrary, he was put on the hard labour of the oil-

mill. A struggle went on and he offered resistance. He had to suffer terribly in the last
strike. He was segregated from his elders on the ground that they were spoiling him, But
he did not give in. He resisted all the same. He was kept standing with manacles on. The
more they punished him, the wilder he became. They punished him for the stoppage of
work, but he gave up even washing his own clothes. He was given clothes made of gunny
bags. He gave up wearing clothes altogether. They held him fast on the ground and put
those clothes upon him, and sewed them on his body, but he tore them off at night.
Thereafter, he was put in chains. Hands and feet were both tied up. But during the night
he managed to break the lock, snap the chains and set himself free. They abused him for
the act, but he did not reply. He was punished for refusing to answer any question; and he
refused to stand up before the officers. Then he was sent to solitary confinement and he
refused to come out of his cell. He would not turn out even for bath. Then he was bodily
lifted, stark-naked to be washed on the reservoir. He was stretched flat upon it, and the
Bhangis washed his body. They rubbed his body with a piece of dry cocoanut shreds.
And they rubbed it so hard that the skin was almost blood-red with the rubbing. The skin
burnt, but he was not to be beaten. The Pathan warder, when he was alone with me,
abused him in vulgar and indecent- language. Nani Gopal went about naked during the
day and they deprived him of one of his blankets at night. He threw off the other along
with the first. So he remained day and night stripped in body and at night shivering with
cold on the bare floor of his prison cell. His contention was that the prison authorities
should rank him among political prisoners.
Recognise me as a political prisoner
That was his contention all along. He never cared, he said, what kind of food they
gave him, for that was with him a minor matter. But the question of rank was not so
insignificant for it was a question of honour with him. We are, he said, political prisoners
and not thieves, robbers and dacoits. And the matter had to be decided once for all. The
Chief Commissioner informed him that that status would never be given to him, do what
he will. Nani Gopal would not surrender when the Chief Commissioner visited him
personally and told him to his face, "You think that if you continue in this state you will
melt our hearts, frighten us, and compel us to yield. That shall not be. We do not care
even if you die. Believe it." The officers may not yield, but that his behaviour gave them
no rest, gave them furiously to think, was obvious to all of us. It was a creed with Mr.
Barrie that two or three sharp raps with a cane were bound to bring a political prisoner to
his knees. That was his experience with other prisoners in the jail. On the other hand,
some of us quoted the order of Lord Morley that such a punishment was strictly
forbidden in the case of political prisoners. We, therefore, thought that Mr. Barrie's words
were but an empty threat. However, I did not fail to warn them that Mr. Barrie might
carry out his threat inspite of Lord Morley, for in this prison he was his own master, and,
if it came to that, he would get an order changed; that they must go on strike bearing this
fact full well in their minds. The Burmese lads of sixteen and twenty took twenty or thirty
strokes of the cane on their palms without wincing, because they were accustomed to that
form of punishment from their early boyhood. They may also get accustomed to it, and
take as many canes as Mr. Barrie gave them. This made Nani Gopal face the threat of the

Chief Commissioner unconcerned. He would obey none, he would bend before none, and
he would do no work, leave alone the ' Kolu.' In sheer desperation the officers felt
inclined to support Mr. Barrie and decided at last to resort to caning.
Nani Gopal was to be caned
Mr. Barrie was the first to inform me of it and confidentially. I told him frankly
that though he was speaking to me confidentially, he was speaking as an officer, that he
had given me the news intentionally that I may pass it on to my friends. I had, however,
to warn him that if he ever used the cane on Nani Gopal its effect on all of us would be
tremendous, and the consequences to him and to the prison would be terrible. All the
political prisoners would be roused as they were never before roused in that jail. He had
to recall, I told him, how dangerous these men were and what horror and violence
capable of, once they were inflamed in mind. Their past deeds were witnesses to this fact
and he had to think a hundred times before he caned Nani Gopal. I knew, I further told
him, that his might was supreme to theirs and they would be crushed. But they will not
fail to do, and will not shrink from doing, all they can. For the present they only protest
and offer civil resistance. But if he resorted to inhuman punishment like caning, they will
unfailingly resort to violence and then anything might happen.
They will shed blood and not refrain
"I do not say", I asked Mr. Barrie to note, "what should happen, but what cannot
but happen." Mr. Barrie pretended to smile, but really he was startled. The punishment
was announced, the frame was set up, we were all locked up in our rooms, every
precaution was taken to prevent a riot and revolt. We were all ears to hear the piercing
cry go forth from the mouth of Nani Gopal with the spirt of blood from his lacerated
body. A warder came and informed us that Nani had been removed from that prison. He
went away and presently an overseer came up to volunteer the information that the victim
was thrashed within an inch of his life, and in indecent language he added, "Nani's had
been rent into twain.' I answered him calmly, "Nani has not suffered in the least, and I
may tell you that if any one has come worse off in this business, it is not he. For I know
that he has been transferred from this place elsewhere." The overseer was simply
astonished and went back without making any reply. The petty officer soon learnt the
mischief that the overseer was spreading. He issued orders to apprehend the man and
went away in anger.
The news was correct, the sentence was pronounced, but no one was prepared to
execute it. They telephoned to the Chief Commissioner, but he hesitated to give the final
order. At last Nani was taken down from the frame, the order was cancelled, and he was
removed from the jail to be confined in a district prison for a few days. The Chief
Commissioner carried out all this on the telephone, and the danger was avoided. That

Nani Gopal was spared the ordeal made us all happy, but he himself felt bitterly
disappointed. For he was determined to bear the caning and hold out to the end. He was
flush with it and now it had all gone. His courage extorted the admiration of his enemies.
He was taken out of our midst and far away, perhaps with the belief that they would be
able to tame him down in the new prison. Soon they discovered how mistaken they were
in this belief. For, in that new place he at once went on
hunger strike.
When Nani Gopal was among us, we had all along tried our best to dissuade him
from that step. For three days he went in that prison without a particle of food. But none
paid the slightest attention to him. He did not eat and he did not speak. He lay on the
ground without food and water. He was brought back to the Silver Jail, but he would not
give up. Some five or six days it had continued like this, when they forced the food into
him through a tube, as was allowed by the regulations of the prison. He was made to
inhale milk through the nose. While this was going on in the prison itself, something
happened outside that fell upon us like a bomb-shell.
The political prisoners detailed for outside work went about from district to
district and established contact with those who had become free and set up a house for
themselves over the entire settlement. This was strictly for-bidden by law, though all
prisoners without exception fully availed themselves of the opportunity of work outside
to move freely among the people in the locality where they worked. The political
prisoners were specially interested in the spread of Swadeshi among those with whom
they came in contact and to get from them bits of news which they would communicate
to us inside the prison. There were in the settlement families of former prisoners of the
Silver Jail. The. new generation among them were free citizens and as such got reports of
happenings in India without let or hindrance. We spread through them, by poems and
articles, the spirit of Swadeshi all over the settlement. The articles sent out by us through
this agency assumed the form of a circulating newspaper, and it helped to build up the
influence of political prisoners in the world around them. The news of this spreading
influence was carried to the ears of the authorities in an exaggerated manner, so that,
before long, it was interpreted by them as a regular conspiracy. By this time, the letters
surreptitiously passed from here to India about the suicide of Indu Bhushan and the
insanity of Ullas, had gone to their proper quarters. And they found their place and
publicity in the newspaper world of India. This fact and the knowledge of it in the jail
itself created a flutter in the official dovecotes. Even the most commonplace news was to
us, prisoners of the Andamans, good tidings of great joy. A question about us in the
Legislative Council gave us the strength and the hope to bear it all with patience here for
a month following. For, we had begun to think of ourselves as the neglected ones of the
earth, whom any one could trample under foot with impunity; it had filled us with dark
despair about our life. This news came as a ray of hope to illumine that darkness. And
hope revived and with it courage, when we realised that our sufferings were not all in

vain, but had in them the power to stir other men even as a drop of oil serves to flare up
the burning fire into flame.
And it happened like that on the day about which I am writing. Who must have
sent the news to India and carried the letters, was a matter of discussion among the jail
authorities. And as they could not get at the source, they became more irritated than ever.
Days went on in this way when I was informed in reply to my former petitions that I was
allowed to move out, and the officers would send me out on the following Monday. I was
surprised at the reply! I felt that my brother also would be allowed to go out. I learnt by
heart all the lines of poetry that I had scribbled on the walls of my room, and waited for
the promised Monday to arrive. I was not sure all the, same that they would keep their
word, Monday dawned. Some prisoners were sent out, and I was not among them. I lay
confined in my own cell. On the third day the Superintendent came to me, and I asked
him about it. As he was honest of word, he felt shamed of himself as he was the man who
had given me the news of the promised relief. The Chief Commissioner, he said, had
gone to Rangoon and that I would know about it after his return. I felt doubtful about it.
The Commissioner had gone to Rangoon to see the Lieutnent Governor, and, as soon as
he had returned, there began one fine morning a regular campaign of arrest in the
Andamans instead of my being sent out of the Silver Jail as promised by the
Superintendent when he saw me last.
Mass arrests
Some were manacled, others were detained, and others again had their rooms
searched. Prom the political prisoners the campaign spread out to the houses of free
citizens, of Jamadars and tindels. The search and arrest party was manned entirely by
European officers. And it did its work with terrible efficiency. It threatened, it shouted, it
scolded and it terrorised, till the whole of the colony was stricken with nervousness and
fear. The cause of all this noise and fury was that the officers had information of a bomb-
factory started in the island by political prisoners working in the settlement. And it was
not altogether without foundation. But the search and the arrests afforded no clue to it.
Even a cracker did not come out in the search, not to speak of a bomb. The informant was
a Bengali gentleman, Lalmohan by name. On two other occasions he had similarly put
the Officers on a false trail. The officers were, of course, furious with him. It was the
same warder who was suspected by them of delivering Hotilal's letter from the prison to
its proper quarters. The warder had perhaps raised the canard to propitiate the gods he
had displeased. However that be, the political prisoners suffered terribly by this tale-
telling of Lalmohan. Rumours were afloat that a bomb was found in an adjoining brook;
that letters were intercepted by the police containing the plan of chartering boats to take
the prisoners across the seas. No one was sure of what he was saying and what he had
heard. The only thing one was sure of was the wholesale arrest of political prisoners and
their being clapped back into their cells. Now we knew why the Chief Commissioner had
gone to Rangoon. Mr. Barrie's stock went high up in the market. He dared say to the
Commissioner himself that he was always telling him that these were dangerous men and

never to be trusted. But, he continued, the Commissioner had always blamed him. They
did not behave well even to him. They deserved nothing but kicks.
It gave me great anxiety about the future in store for me. I had already suffered
enough in one conspiracy case, and I feared what this case would bring to me. We had
already been on transportation for life, my life-sentence was fifty years. The Gods that
did me that ill-turn may involve me in this and deal even worse with me. I never more
thought of being sent out in the settlement. The manufacturing of bombs and the
chartering of boats had made that out of question. The officers behaved insolently
towards me and told me openly that I should no more think of it. They had final orders
from the Government of India that I was not to be released from this jail till I had run my
full sentence of fifty years or till I was dead before that time.
Who can describe the state of their mind, when these political prisoners heard
these words from their officers? Some like me on life-sentence, all utterly helpless and
locked up in their respective cells, with this new charge possibly hanging over their
heads, and the nature of that charge still a mystery to them ! A few days passed in this
disordered and apprehensive state of mind, and they could not see their way out of it.
But this bewilderment continued no further and we were soon able to plan our
future course. First of all, we made up our minds to entertain no unnecessary fears. Next,
three of us were to write to the authorities to let them know definitely what the charge
against them was. Thirdly, if our offence was bomb-making, plotting to escape from this
place, conspiracy, or general revolt, we were to ask them to start criminal prosecution
against us. The suspicion was, of course, against those of us who had been working
outside the prison and the petition was forwarded in their names. They got a reply that the
officers had not sufficient evidence in their hands to launch a prosecution. Then they
insisted on work outside the prison, when they were warned not to think of it. The
ordinary suits in the Andamans were filed before a court without a pleader to conduct
either the prosecution or the defence, without either assessors or a jury. And if a man like
Mr. Barrie, who was an expert in concocting evidence, could not prosecute us before
such a court, the conclusion was inescapable that the whole story must be both imaginary
and exaggerated. But whatever the nature of the evidence, it was enough to damn us with
the Government of India. For, it would afford them material enough to send highly
coloured reports about miscreants in this prison so that they could be doomed for life to
rot in this jail. It was particularly so in an individual case like mine.
We have said above how our letters had reached India and how their publication
in the newspaper had created a stir there. To this was added the report of a bomb-factory
in the Andamans. The Government of India, therefore, decided to depute their own
officer to ascertain the truth behind these two reports. And no less a person than the
Home Member himself—Sir Reginald Craddock, afterwards Governor of Burma—
undertook the voyage on that mission.

Usually, the arrival of such an officer to the Andamans, in itself a very rare
occurrence, was kept a close secret from the inmates of the Silver Jail. None knew his
name; often he came as a stranger and went as a stranger. His inspection of the prison
was almost a farce, for the prisoners were seldom asked questions or gave answers. They
looked upon him as a casual visitor and never took him seriously. He, therefore, did not
know their real grievances and was often guided by those who chaperoned him. As a
result, he went back to report that all was well in the Andamans, and there everything
ended.
But, this time the political prisoners had got previous news of the arrival of the
Home Member to the Andamans. And they were prepared to make the full use of this
opportunity. They informed the jail authorities that some of us wanted to have a personal
talk with that distinguished visitor. The authorities asked them how they had come to
know of his impending visit, and who had told them about it. But we were not to be
cowed down by such threats. When the officer was going the round of our prison, he was
sure to pass by our cells. And if we were not allowed to talk to him, we had decided to
invite his attention to us by raising a hullabaloo as he went along our blocks. It was no
matter to us if we were punished for it after the event. They had tried this method on
former occasions and suffered punishment for it. But 1913 was different in this respect
from all the years before it.
Sir Reginald Craddock came
A few prisoners were called out to meet him. Questions were put and answered.
Some were told that they were the enemies of government and deserved nothing short of
death. Others were told that they should never talk of being sent out for they were
sentenced for high treason and they had conspired against the King. When some of us
asked for proofs, the answer was that though they could not prove, they knew enough of
it. My interview with Sir Reginald began on a different note altogether. Sir Reginald
began, "Savarkar, to what a wretched state have you reduced yourself? I have studied all
your books. If you had applied all your talents to nobler ends, there was no high place in
Government service which was beyond you to fill and adorn. But you chose to fall into
this wretched condition. To which I answered, "I am grateful to you for your kind wishes.
I may tell you, however, that it is entirely in your hands to take me out of this. Mr.
Gokhale has just brought in his resolution on compulsory education in the Imperial
Legislative Council. If it is accepted by Government, and if such measures of progress
are assured to my people that they may rise as a nation, then not only myself but all my
friends who are dubbed as revolutionaries will be ready to turn to the path of peace. They
must be thinking similarly, I feel sure, as I am speaking to you now."
Sir Reginald : How do you know this? Do you know where they are?

Myself : How is that possible? Am I not here confined in a solitary cell, and under your
close watch and ward? But I know their minds as they know mine, and hence I draw this
inference. If we advance definitely through methods of peace, it is immoral for us to enter
on methods of violence. That is a principle with me, and I feel sure it 'is equally sound to
them.
Sir Reginald: I am sorry you are entirely wrong there, for they are still advocating
terrorism and they still swear by you. In India and in America your followers are still
busy with their plans of secret societies and revolutionary activities.
Myself : I know it for the first time from you. How can I prevent any one from swearing
by me? Why do you take it that I can influence them from here for the simple reason that
they call me their leader? (The reference here was to the Gadar movement and its
newspaper in America started by Har Dayal and other members of the Abhinav Bharat
Mandal)
Sir Reginald: (after a little conversation on the subject) If you are really prepared to
stand by what you have said just now, I may think of permitting you to write a letter
embodying your views.
Myself : I shall be very glad indeed to write such a letter. But it must be sent by me
independently.
Sir Reginald : It must go through us or through me at least
Myself : Will it not mean that it was written under your pressure? I should write, I think,
independently.
Sir Reginald : I cannot allow it.
Myself : Then, I am sorry, I cannot write it, for I feel that to write through your
government will make it suspect.
Sir Reginald : (Looking at me closely as if we thoroughly understood each other):
Well, what are your grievances? May I know them?

I then told him the full story of sufferings in the Silver Jail. I also described to him
the disabilities and hardships of political prisoners as well, when the Chief Commissioner
who was present on the occasion interposed, "But you, political prisoner, have you not
murdered? Are you not violent? Have you not conspired to destroy the Government in
power? If Russia were ruling here, they would all have been sent to Siberia or
straightaway shot in the back. It is the British Government that is treating you so
leniently. And it is your good fortune that you are under that Government."
Myself : I am sure, however, that Russia would not have disarmed India. Today Russia
enrolls inhabitants in Siberia as well as foreigners in its army, and appoints them to
responsible military posts. And it would have appointed Indians to the same posts, and if
it had treated us as you do, we would have beaten them, as we beat and conquered the
Mogal Emperors of India.
Sir Reginald : Your Hindu Rajas would have treated you much worse than we are
alleged to be treating you now. Do you not know how they tied rebels to the foot of an
elephant and crushed them?
Myself: Yes, I know it. And I know also that in England they dragged a prisoner along
the street for felony and hanged him. But these are things of the past by which none
should swear today. You don't hang a thief today in England. The fact is that the benefits
of civilisation, wherever they may originate, are shared by all alike. Formerly a
traitor was I trampled under the foot of an elephant, but the victor punished a king by
sending him to the block. Charles I and the English rebellion are instances in point. On
both the sides the rule now is to follow civilized methods and, as you seemed to
agree with us, we appeal to you to treat and judge us accordingly. If you say that you will
treat us barbarously, we shall face the situation as best as we can.
After this long digression into history, we returned to the main subject. Some
questions and answers passed between us about the management of the prisoners in our
jail. Finally, I was told that the Government of India would reply, as it thought fit, on the
subject under discussion. Sir Reginald Craddock came and went. But no reply was sent to
us from India. The authorities in the Andamans told us to be satisfied with the interview,
and reconcile ourselves to the status quo. But we decided that something had to be done,
we could not take it lying low. With this decision made, we went on strike for the third
time.
The Third Strike
Except one or two, all of us struck work. Sentence after sentence was passed upon
us of six months' imprisonment in chains. It was now one month and a half that Nani

Gopal had gone on hunger strike. Only a little quantity of milk was daily administered to
him through the nose. He was reduced to skin and bones. Even then this lad was
sentenced to stand for a whole week with chains on his hands and feet. But he remained
firm, nothing could deter him. But others, deeply touched by his sufferings—some six or
seven in number—went on sympathetic hunger strike. They were put in chains and
subjected to similar punishment. I had, by this time, my expected letter from India. But it
was not given to me on the ground that it contained some objectionable matter. And I
immediately joined in the strike. I was sentenced to stand for two weeks in a framework
of fetters for my feet. This punishment was followed by chains for hands and feet
interlinked with a chain between them. My informants told me the contents of that
objectionable letter. There was in it a reference to the criticism of Keir Hardie in
Parliament on my imprisonment in this jail.

Keir Hardie's Criticism

The gist of that criticism was that while in Ireland the Government had
taken no steps against those who had threatened open rebellion, who had raised armies to
fight the partisans of Home Rule on the soil of England, a man like Savarkar, whose only
crime had been to distribute pistols among his fellow-conspirators, was sentenced by the
Indian Government to fifty years' transportation to the Andamans. If I had received the
letter, the jailor felt, that criticism in particular against my incarceration might go to our
heads and it might lead to the intensification of strike in that jail. Hence the letter was
withheld from me. In the manifesto about the strike, we had made three principal
demands : (1) That, as political prisoners, we should have all the privileges of the first
class, (2) that we should, otherwise, be put in the category of ordinary prisoners, given all
the facilities accorded to them and the periodical visit to this jail be permitted to members
of our families; or (3) we should be sent back to serve our term in the jails of India, so
that we may get all the facilities of that jail life, including reduction in the period of the
sentence on certificate of good behaviour. During the strike we defied all ordinary
regulations of the prison. We were locked up separately and under strict guard. So it had
become difficult for us to communicate with one another. Even "the telephone
method" described in previous pages was no longer available to us. It broke down
completely because we could not reach the iron-grating near the floor of our cell and in
the wall to talk. Well, if the telephone had stopped, we hit upon the method of telegraph,
and that again of the wireless telegraph. It went on splendidly for a long time. We had
shackles on our feet and they had manacles on their hands. We rang them on the bars of
our doors according to a particular code. And the news went round not only through the
three or four adjoining rooms but through all the storeys of the near-by blocks. And in
this mode of communication there was no scope for the warders to betray us. We carried
on the communication in English to start with. My brother remodelled it into Nagari.
Thus we had a pure Swadeshi telegraphic code and message to run through the whole
building. Marconi may have invented the wireless for the world. My brother hit upon the
plan for our prison before Marconi's invention had reached the world of the Andamans.

Oh, Now I remember
By the way, as I am writing, I remember what the Capital of Calcutta had written
about my brother. It had published the news that my brother had been appointed in this
jail to run the wireless. You will please understand, my reader, that the news was not
altogether without foundation! In vain, did we threaten the Capital with a suit and exact
its apology! Yes, my brother was, indeed, working the code; the mistake lay in the fact
that he communicated by it with two or three rooms close by, and not, as it had alleged,
with Germany during the outbreak of the first World War. But what is 'space' and 'time'
to the philosopher of the Capital ?
We conveyed our messages through this device to all the political prisoners in our
jail, and whatever we pro posed to do, we did, all as one man. Mr. Barrie was ever at the
throat of the warders to extort how the communication was effected and how combined
action was undertaken. The Pathan warders were ignorant blockheads. They made no
head or tail out of the sounds they heard, They did not grasp why the handcuffs were
sounded or knocked in a particular manner. If any one of them shouted out to enquire, we
said we were keeping tune to the singing of religious songs, which we recited inwardly.
At last one of them suspected foul play. He made out sound responding to sound in
regular sequence all. over the building and in the rooms of the prisoners. And he reported
his suspicion to Mr. Barrie. One night Mr. Barrie went silently over all the blocks in the
building. He heard these sounds and their rhythmic beats. It was not difficult for him to
make out what it was. He went back with an order to the warders not to let the devils
make these noises. But who would listen to the warders? Who would obey the order?
Were we not out for passive resistance?
During this period of noise and disobedience, we were every day taken out for our
dinner for one hour in the morning and one hour in the evening. Mr. Barrie kept standing
before us during the hour, lest we might talk to one another. For two or three days at the
beginning, everything went on quietly. On the fifth day, however, while all of us had sat
down to our meal and we were however, while all of us had sat down to our meal and we
were eating it, each from his own plate, we heard some one lecturing to us. The opening
words that fell on our ears were,
"Brothers ! We are free !"
Every one was startled and looked up. And behold, here was Nani Gopal who had
uttered the words to defy the 'silence' order of Mr. Barrie. And he went on "Brethren, we
are all born free. It is our birthright to speak to one another with love and kind greetings.
If an enemy were to deprive us of that right, we must challenge him. Here I am speaking
to you and will continue speaking." Hardly had these words escaped his lips, when,
bursting with rage, Mr. Barrie, Mirza Khan and the Pathan warder rushed at him. Nothing

daunted, Nani Gopal went on with his eloquent discourse. He was lifted up bodily out of
us and locked in the room. Still he had kept on talking and had not finished his
peroration. The political prisoners could not contain themselves for laughter, and Mr.
Barrie's anger knew no bounds.
Pathan or Hindu
Mirza Khan presently came to my room. He could not hold his peace; he seemed
eager to unburden his heart to me, and said, "Bada Babu, that young fellow is your true
disciple, I mean Nani Gopal. He is loyal to the core. His daring becomes a Pathan like me
more than any one else. He is verily a Pathan lad." I answered, "Bada Jamadar, you are
wrong. Your father was a Pathan and you are a Pathan. If he were a Pathan, he would not
have rotten in this jail for the sake of his country; he would have, like you, licked the
shoes of Mr. Barrie and would not have defied him. If Mr. Barrie said it was night you
would say ' yea ' to him even though it was day. It is because Nani Gopal is a born Hindu
that he is so brave. I am full of admiration for his daring and intelligence. But if all the
Pathans were brave and all the Hindus were cowards, how could the Hindus have
overthrown the Pathan or the Mussulman Raj in India?
The Hunger Strike Ends
I was always against the suicidal policy of hunger-strike, as I regarded it as
ruinous to the individual and ruinous to the cause. That was not the way to fight the
enemy, I maintained strongly. My view had its desired effect on the mind of our friends
and they gave up the hunger-strike. The hardest nut to crack was Nani Gopal. He would
not yield. He was on the verge of death. I, therefore, employed an extreme measure to
overcome his resistance. I threatened him with hunger-strike if he would not give up his
own. And the following day I acted up to my word.
I went on hunger-strike
The news that I had stopped taking my food went like wild fire round the prison.
The officers were full of fear. It was all stir and excitement among them. The Cheif
Commissioner expostulated with the Superintendent to put an end to it. I was tried for
this new offence. But in the trial, instead of punishing me, they exhorted me to break the
fast. I told them why I had gone on hunger-strike, and asked them to permit me to speak
to Nani Gopal. When Nani heard the news that I had declared three days' hunger-strike,
he was stricken with grief. I was taken to his cell by Mr. Barrie. I saw him and he agreed
to break his fast. I took him aside and whispered, "Do not die like a woman; if you must
needs die, die fighting like a hero. Kill your enemy and then take leave of this world."

He dines and I break my fast.
From this time onwards we had our two meals and had plenty of coconuts to eat
in addition to them. The quantity of daily ration had been reduced for strikers. Yet they
consumed it all and would not work. Why do you starve yourselves? Take as much food
from them as you can, grow fat and don't work. This was the mantra I gave them, and
they followed it to the letter. All forms of punishment by the jailor were exhausted in our
case. And we were hauled up before the Magistrate. Some got two months, some four,
and Nani Gopal was given one year's rigorous punishment. But the strike continued all
the same. At last the Government of India had to come out with a special notification on
the subject. It was about the new order of things affecting us as political prisoners in the
Silver Jail of the Andamans.
The New Order
What did the notification say? What was there in it so that our officers read it out
to us so grandiloquently? Well, the following were some important items in that
notification :—
(1) All the prisoners who were sentenced to a definite period of time, short of life-
sentence shall be sent back to their respective prisons in India, where the remission of
their sentences will be duly considered and followed,
(2) Prisoners on life-sentence shall be detained in this prison for a continuous period
of fourteen years, whereafter they will be set free for some labour of a light character.
This shall operate only in the case of those prisoners who give proof of good behaviour
during their period of incarceration.
(3) During the period of fourteen years, the prisoner shall be given decent food to
eat, and decent and decent clothes to wear. After five years, he shall be allowed to cook
his own food and given from twelve annas to a rupee per month as his pocket allowance.
The end of the third strike
From the concessions granted in the notification it is easy to realise that many of
them had conformed to the demands made by the strikers. Although the notification had
stated that the order was final, we knew what to think of them, for, in the opinion of the
political prisoners, nothing was a settled fact that could not be unsettled. However, we

decided to accept what had come to us, and to end the dispute for the present. We,
therefore, called off the strike and resumed work.
Soon after, the term-convicts began to be sent back to the prisons in India. We,
who were left behind, did not fail to remind them that in India they must give as much
publicity as they could to the prevailing harsh condition in the Andamans, and, with
every chalan despatched to the Andamans, they had to send us news from India. As these
political prisoners were distributed all over India, it was easier for them to do this double
work. And be it said to their credit that they did their part remarkably well. After the exit
of the term-convicts, those who had remained behind on life-sentence like me were very
few in number. There were one or two term-convicts still with us. We were all allowed in
batches to cook our own food. As such we got clean and well-cooked food to eat. Some
of us were detailed for work in the printing press, in the library, and on map-drawing, of
which we shall write in its due place. And each of them earned about Rs. 10 a month
from such work. Those who had not seen a single rupee since their incarceration, had
now with them five to ten rupees every month, a change in their status equivalent to that
of a millionaire among beggars. So many of those were at their beck and call for anything
they needed. Don't think it was a miracle. That was bound to happen in a prison like the
Silver Jail, and in a place like the Andamans.
About those on life-sentence
All this was no less than a revolution in the life of a political prisoner. But to what
extent was I benefited by it? Not very much indeed ! I was given no writing work to do. I
was not appointed to supervise any factory. The only satisfaction I had was to see my
friends in better condition than myself. Myself and my brother had to weave the same
strand, and do the same work. Later on, my brother and Wamanrao Joshi were transferred
to the cooking department, and they cooked for all of us. I was the same solitary prisoner,
in the same solitary cell, and in the same block No. 7. The administration of the Silver
Jail in my time had one policy to follow and Mr. Barrie had defined it to me many times
before. The keynote of that policy was that " Savarkar was the father of unrest in the
Andamans; he was to be given no quarter and shown no mercy.”
We have reached the year 1914 in our narrative. Here ends the first part of the
history of our agitation in the Andamans. The political prisoners in the Silver Jail were
mainly responsible for that agitation. We now enter on an epoch fraught with immense
changes in the world as the result of the first World War, It had also its repercussions,
mainly political, in India. And these affected, in no small degree, life in the Andamans as
well, and changed the course of its future history. In the years till 1914, the political
prisoners had directed all the energy of their mind and will to improve their own
condition in the prison-life of the Andamans. And the first part of our narrative describes
that struggle. After 1914, they concentrated their work on the awakening of the people in
the Andamans and on putting new life into them. This remarkable difference between the