An offering in the freedom pyre . . . !

Hi, Everyone! In the readers’ journey through the Burning for Freedom, I want them to go through the same myriad of emotions as I did, as Savarkar’s larger-than-life personality, his staunch principles, his amazing deeds, and the gross injustice, all unfold before their eyes.

Do forgive me, for I shall digress here for a moment. Talking of Savarkar’s amazing deeds, do check out the link below. It gives an account I have written (Part I and II) of Savarkar’s unbelievable escape from the porthole of the SS Morea on the morning of July 8, 1910.

http://www.savarkar.org/en/armed-revolution/historic-leap-marseilles/savarkar-great-escape-recreated

Among what moved me terribly was Savarkar’s breakdown in 1946, right from the first biography I read. It is mostly hushed up (I had my work cut out to collect the meager facts that are available.) I can understand why perfectly. There is so much undeserved and unwarranted mud-slinging—which I shall address one by one, in future posts—going on re Savarkar that those devoted to him do not want to add to the pot.

A mental breakdown—certainly in the years gone by and even, perhaps, today—is looked upon as a stigma by Indians in general. Which Savarkarite will want that period of Savarkar’s life to be highlighted?

And yet I chose to do just that! For me Savarkar’s breakdown is not a stigma. Never!

It was his ultimate offering on the freedom-pyre.

He ground himself to dust for love of his country, fighting for her (and then the country or rather her free Government burnt him to ashes . . . !) Not writing about it, would be belittling that, I felt. Given certain circumstances—and Savarkar’s were certainly excruciatingly horrendous—anyone’s mind can cave in. Let no one think they are immune!

The depth and strength of Savarkar’s character lies in the fact that he pulled himself out of it—in a short three months period or so! That is very, very difficult to do.

That I was going to highlight it in my novel was definite.

But how?

Fortunately (if I may put it like that), I have personal experience of a very deeply hurting mind. I had to pluck out those emotions from my heart and soul to write the scenes.

A mental breakdown cannot be a pretty thing—to write about Savarkar’s was a harrowing experience for me. I cried through the writing of it. I was quite an emotional wreck after it was written.

Some may think it was presumptuous of me to dare to peek into and write of Savarkar’s mind, but as the writer of Burning for Freedom—a novel written to showcase Savarkar to the world—it was unavoidable.

Anurupa

Shivaji and Savarkar

Hi, Everyone! Anyone who has read Savarkar’s biography, even in a cursory manner, is conscious of the immense admiration and respect Savarkar had for Shivaji—from the earliest childhood. Savarkar’s chapter on Shivaji in his book Hindu Padpadshahi (find an e-book @ www.savarkarsmarak.com) gives a very good idea of this too. Time and again Savarkar has hailed Shivaji as the heroic king who wrested back large portions of India from the Mughals and actively chased a “Hindavi Swaraj.”

It seems utterly preposterous and ridiculous to me that anyone should point accusing fingers at Savarkar saying he disrespected Shivaji. It is inconceivable!

Yet we live in an imperfect world—when mud is slung at anyone it tends to stick, particularly when it is accompanied by a sensationalized, wanton act of vandalism like burning copies of (Savarkar’s) books. And so, much though it goes against the grain to give even an appearance of credibility to such fallacy by mentioning it or offering vindication for Savarkar, I have decided to do it.

Here are some examples which illuminate just what place Shivaji held in Savarkar’s heart and soul.

•  In 1902, Savarkar composed an aarti, a song of worship, in honor of Shivaji. Every Friday as a part of the Ferguson club activity, this aarti was sung before a picture of Shivaji.

•  In 1903, Savarkar composed the poem Shivaveer (Shivaji: the Hero) in honor of Shivaji.

• He has also composed another poem, Hindunrusimha, praising Shivaji.

(I have given all the three poems at the end of this post.)

• The very first function organized by Savarkar’s Mitra Mela was a celebration of Shivaji Jayanti (birth anniversary.) This is a practice he continued to follow down the road.

• In 1905, his group popularized his ballads on Sinhagad and Baji Prabhu. Both ballads extolled the heroics of Shivaji with Tanaji and Baji Prabhu. Using these incidents of guerilla warfare, Savarkar subtlely promoted the idea of freedom. The people in Maharashtra just loved the ballads.

• Sometime after this a Shivaji festival was celebrated at Raigad. These ballads were sung there. The audience was enthralled by them, but Daji Khare, who was presiding over the event, became nervous by their inflammatory words. So fiery were the words that when the audience joined in the singing, Khare, a friend of Tilak, told him to close the show down as he did not want to be party to any unconstitutional activity! 
• Babarao published this ballads in 1906 and three years later the Government proscribed them.

Unfortunately, I have not translated these ballads yet.

• In the women’s organization, parallel to Savarkar’s Mitra Mela, each member was required to take this pledge: “In the name of the Motherland, Shivaji Raja who won freedom through war, and Bhavani Mata who gives strength, I hereby give witness before Shivaji and Bhavani Durga Devi that I shall use swadeshi goods only, love my country more than my life, strive for my country’s freedom and help those who are doing so.”

• In 1906, in the patriotic song, Priyakar Hindustan (O Beloved Hindustan,) which Savarkar specially composed for the occasion commemorating the death anniversary of Guru Govind Singh, organized in a grand manner at Caxton Hall, London on December 29, 1908, he most certainly included Shivaji as one of the virtues of Hindustan.

जिजा जन्म दे शिवा जिच्यास्तव गुरु पुत्रांचे प्राण

जिच्यास्तवचि त्या कुमारिकांसी विस्तवांत ये न्हाण

Here too was born of Jijabai, Chatrapati Shivaji,

And maidens who embraced the pyre for their honor.

Bricked to death here were the Sons of the Guru,

So staunch were they in their loyal fervor!

• Again in 1908, when he composed another patriotic song, Hind Sundara Ti (Hind, the Beautiful One,) he makes a mention of Shivaji.

प्रताप शिव बंदा I श्रीगुरू गोविंदा

संभव दे उद्भव दे I दे जी उत्स्फुर्ती II ७ II

To Rana Pratap, Shivaji, Banda Bairagi, lo

And Guru Gobind Singhji too

She gave birth, beginning, n’ inspiration so!

• Savarkar followed Shivaji’s precept of manipulating a powerful enemy any which way, especially from a position of great weakness. He also advocated others to do so too. To give an example, he quoted instances from life of Shivaji to convince the political prisoners in Andman who had received amnesty to sign the pledges. I am giving here the incident as I have written it in my novel Burning for Freedom:

“Soon enough, general amnesty was granted to several of them here but not unconditionally. They had to sign a pledge refraining from any political activity for a specified time. This offended most of them. It was an infringement upon their rights! A slur upon their patriotism! Sign a pledge? Never! Savarkar was very heartened to see that despite all their sufferings, they were still such staunch patriots. Such Sons of India should definitely be free to fight for their country!

‘Brothers, there is nothing wrong in signing this pledge. Sign it and be free—free to work for the freedom of our motherland.’

‘Tatyarao, with the signing of this pledge our hands are tied! It forbids us to do just that very thing.’

‘Ah, but do you have to follow its dictate?’ asked Savarkar passionately. ‘No! A pledge imposed upon us by a foreign enemy power is worth only the paper it is written on. There is no reason to stay committed to it! It is merely a means to an end—only an avenue to break the locks of this jail.’

‘But that would be deceitful, Tatyarao!’

‘Deceitful to whom?’ exclaimed Savarkar. ‘When we have no constitutional rights and are crushed into subjugation by arbitrary laws of an enemy power, honesty as you mean it is not a luxury we can indulge in!’—he raised the palms of his hands—’the only honesty and truth for us is reinstating the honor of our beloved Hindustan. We follow any path that circumstances force us to take. If the British rule us by unlawful means, we go against this law of theirs to gain freedom. When under duress we make petitions and even sign pledges!’

‘Yes, Tatyarao, there is much in what you say. But it still seems cowardly to sign such papers. The blood of heroes like Shivaji flows in our veins! What, shall we supplicate before the enemy? History will label us as cowards and hypocrites!’

‘We cannot swerve from our path by fear of adverse public opinion! Shivaji was very brave indeed. Yet when needed, he took a conciliatory position with Aurangzeb. At one time, Shivaji suffered many losses from the mighty Mughal forces led by Mirza Raja Jaisingh and Dilerkhan. He made a small capitulation and signed the Treaty of Purandar. He was forced to hand over to Aurangzeb many forts and go to Agra. Here he was treacherously imprisoned by Aurangzeb. Shivaji sent petition after petition professing loyalty to him, all the while planning his escape! It was his strategic move to lull the enemy. Can Shivaji be accused of cowardice? Change of heart? Never! We must also admire the forethought with which he killed the mighty Afzal Khan by ripping open his stomach with the tiger claws. If he had not broken his promise of being unarmed in that meeting, Afzal Khan’s plot to crush him to death would have been successful!’

‘Tatyarao, indeed, we did not see it in this light.’”

• Time and again Savarkar had said India needs a Shivaji. Keer writes in his biography of Savarkar that in 1952, in one of his lectures he said that “if God were to ask him to beg for a boon, he would pray him to bless India with a Chandragupta or a Shivaji to wipe out the despondency prevailing in the minds of the younger generation and make the nation valorous and great. He said he preferred a rule of a benevolent great leader like Shivaji to an ignorant, weak-kneed democracy.”

• In 1953, when addressing a big meeting at the Jackson Garden in Nasik, he declared that the name of the garden should be changed to Shivaji Garden. He also stated that Indian Statesmen should follow the tactics and policy of Shivaji, who was a real statesman.

After reading this (and the poems below) there should be no doubt in anyone’s mind in just how high an esteem Savarkar held Shivaji.

-  Anurupa

Hindunrusimha

Click here for PDF

Shivaveer

Click here for PDF

 

Aarti on Shivaji composed by Savarkar

जय देव, जय देव, जय जय शिवराया

या, या अनन्य शरणां, आर्या ताराया

आर्यांच्या देशावरी म्लेच्छांचा घाला

आला आला सावध हो शिवभूपाला

सद्गदीता भूमाता दे तुज हाकेला

करूणारव भेदूनी तव हृदय न का गेला

जय देव, जय देव, जय जय शिवराया

श्रीजगदंबा जी स्तव शुंभादीकभक्षी

दशमुख मर्दुनी जी श्रीरघुवर संरक्षी

ती पूता भूमाता, म्लेंच्छा ही छळता

तुजविण शिवराया तिज कोण दुजा त्राता

जय देव, जय देव, जय जय शिवराया

त्रस्त आम्ही दीन आम्ही, शरण तुला आलो

परवशतेच्या पाशी मरणोन्मुख झालो

साधुपरित्राणाया, दुष्कृती नाशाया

भगवन् भगवद्गीता सार्थ कराया या

Babarao-Savarkar Deathbed Scene

Hi, Everyone! Today, March 17, 2014, I am posting what I call the Babarao-Savarkar deathbed scene from my novel Burning for Freedom.

Like so many other Savarkar scenes, it was ve-e-ery challenging to write this one; in fact I almost chickened out of doing it. It would have been only too easy to take a leap in the story—the story, after all, inevitably has several such leaps (as it begins in 1913 and ends in 1948) which I had to blend convincingly and was by then quite adept at it. I even had a suitable line or two drafted.

But my conscience began to bite at me. I was convinced that not to write this scene would be a terrible injustice to Babarao and Savarkar; plus one of the aims of B for F was to reveal the human and vulnerable side of Savarkar and this scene was the perfect, though difficult, opportunity.

So I got down to it. And here it is:

Early 1945

“Gajanan!” called out Savarkar.

“Yes, Tatyarao?”

“I want to go see Baba tomorrow.”

“But, Tatyarao, we are knee deep in checkmating another of the Nizam’s schemes,” Gajanan exclaimed.

“He is asking for me, Gajanan; to wait may be too late. You can take care of the office. Please get tickets for Prabhat, Keshu, and me. Vishwas can stay behind to be with Mai; she is unwell.”

There was no arguing with that.

February 5: They went straight from the station to see Babarao. One look at the skin-and-bones figure of his beloved brother lying supine upon the bed, and Savarkar’s heart squeezed painfully. He sat by the bedside chair and took Babarao’s hand in his own, gently.

“Baba!” he whispered. “Baba, I have come.”

Very tiredly, Babarao raised his eyelids. His eyes were sunk deep into his face. For a moment he gazed blankly at Savarkar—and then recognition dawned; a profound gladness suffused his face.

“Tatya … Tatya ….” His voice was a mere whisper, faltering and breathy. “Now … I can … die happy.”

Savarkar took a shuddering breath but quickly schooled his face into an impassive mask. Only his fingers clutching Babarao’s so convulsively betrayed the depth of his emotions. Keshu, Prabhat, and two well-wishers standing behind him faded from his consciousness.

“Baba, don’t talk; it bothers you. We can sit here in silence.”

“Tatya … let me … talk. Perhaps it is the … last time. Death is … so near.”

Savarkar blinked rapidly to quell the tears that threatened to spill over. “We have thumbed our nose at death several times, dared it to vanquish us—we had our life’s work ahead of us then. But now, now, beloved Brother, we have consolidated the Hindus to fight for their rights and the freedom of United Hindustan. We even have our own army! So now, don’t fight it, Baba. Open your arms and welcome death—it comes as a friend.”

Babarao sighed. “I know, Tatya, I know …. But I am sorry … leaving you alone … cannot be with you … till the end … till freedom.”

Savarkar tightened his grip on Babarao’s hand, but his words were calm. “Baba, we have lived by the principles of Karmayoga. We shall die abiding by them too. With life comes death. But don’t fear that you leave me alone—do I not have all the Hindus with me?”

“Oh, Tatya, do you … really think so?”

“Yes, Baba, I do. Hindus will fight with us to put the Crown of Freedom upon our Mother’s head.”

“United Hindustan … Tatya?”

“Yes, Baba.”

“Oh, I do … hope so,” said Babarao, with a look of great satisfaction. “Tatya, quote … some lines … from Upon the death bed … please.”

“Certainly, Baba. It will give you much solace:

O Death! I give you leave to end

The script of my life here,

Squandered not I even a moment of my life,

So the day’s end brings no sorrow to me.

I have no fear, for what we sow here today

That blooms and bears fruit, so they say.

With hardship did I sow,

Choosing the best seeds,

Sowing them without expectation of fruit.

Heaven, hell, rebirth, captivity,

Release from the burden of human life—

All are but the consequence of one’s own actions.

Where the door of Death shall open,

Predetermined it is by us, by the down payment paid

By our deeds and actions along the path of Dharma.

O Death! So, I fear not the graveyard,

What is it but an unfamiliar, foreign land?

And to ease the travel in this land,

Have not I from Lord Krishna

An introduction to every house on the way?”

Savarkar’s voice petered out; they sat in silence, eyes saying all that the lips would not.

Babarao diffused the poignant moment. “All is … well, Tatya?”

“Baba, the Nizam is trying to consolidate his son’s position with the neighboring Hindus. I am working on squashing that goal. Gandhi’s statement that he would welcome the Nizam’s rule all over India, would even consider it freedom, has given a boost to the Nizam’s ambition, perhaps!”

Babarao rolled his eyes. In his depleted state, he could not express his disgust as he would like to. “Any more … tricks … from Gandhi?”

“Not since the Rajaji debacle. He has retired to his ashram—though in December he took a month-long vow of silence. That makes me nervous, Baba! At times like these he hatches his schemes! He is also threatening a fast, for many reasons—one being that he thinks people like Dr. Shyamaprasad put spokes in the political wheel by believing that Jinnah is hand in glove with the British!”

Babarao rolled his eyes again. “What did our … Mother do to … deserve him?” His gaze went beyond Savarkar. “Tatya, Tatya … is that … Prabhat?”

“Yes, Baba, I am here,” said Prabhat, coming forward. Silent tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry … silly girl. Death comes to … us all.” Babarao extended his free hand feebly.

“Baba, Baba, I don’t care about all—only you! I don’t want to lose you.”

She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed helplessly. Savarkar dropped Babarao’s hand and got up quickly. He walked blindly past everyone there to the yard. There he stood, oblivious to the cold evening air, gazing fixedly upon a flowering bush. His whole being was concentrated on one thing—control, control, control! Tatya, he admonished himself, you shall not—not—fall apart! Remember your oath—attachment to your brother shall not falter your steps! Karmayoga is the mainstay of your life. Attachment has no role to play. This body is just a vehicle to bear the soul. Baba’s death is his final offering in the holy pyre of our freedom struggle. His body will die, but his work is immortal. He dinned this in his head over and over, standing there until he was cold inside out.

“Tatyarao?”

Keshu had come looking for him. Savarkar paid no heed. Keshu touched his arm lightly. “Tatyarao, it is time to go in.”

“In? Oh!” Savarkar snapped out of his trance.

“You don’t want to get bronchitis again, Tatyarao. Shantabai has a hot meal ready.”

Savarkar stayed in Sangli for just three days; then it was back to work again.

*   *   *