Book: Sanghi Who Never Went to a Shakha by Rahul Roushan.

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This is one of the most common criticisms made against Savarkar. Critics use his clemency petitions to mock him or portray him as someone who betrayed the freedom struggle and begged for mercy from his colonisers. So what are the facts?

Before discussing why he wrote the petitions, a few points need to be made clear:

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1) Writing clemency petitions was a common legal remedy.

The option of submitting a clemency petition was available to all political prisoners, it was not exclusive to Savarkar.

Nor was he the only freedom fighter to do so. Many political prisoners in the Andamans submitted clemency petitions, including Barindra Kumar Ghose of the Anushilan Samiti & Sachindranath Sanyal of HSRA. And many other prominent leaders including Lokmanya Bal Gangadhar Tilak, who used a clemency petition to secure his release from Mandalay Prison; S.A. Dange, one of the founders of the Communist Party of India; and Ram Prasad Bismil of the Kakori Conspiracy Case.

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2) His petitions sought relief not just for himself, but for all political prisoners.

Through this petitions, Savarkar repeatedly asked that he and his fellow revolutionaries be treated as political prisoners rather than ordinary convicts. This would have entitled them to better food, relief from the harshest labour, more frequent letters, family visits, and access to books and writing materials.

He also repeatedly requested a general amnesty for all political prisoners.

In one petition, he even wrote that if his name was preventing the Government from granting a general amnesty, then his own name should be cut off, everyone else should be released, and that would give him as much satisfaction as his own freedom:

> …In conclusion, I beg to add, in all sincerity, that if the Government thinks that it is only to effect my own release that I pen this; or if my name constitutes the chief obstacle in the granting of such an amnesty, then let the Government omit my name in their amnesty and release all the rest; that would give me as great a satisfaction as my own release would do.

This is, in fact, what happened. During the general amnesty of 1920, other political prisoners including Sachindranath Sanyal and Barin Kumar Ghose were released, while the Savarkar brothers were excluded, Sachindranath Sanyal writes this in his Prison Memoir:

> [Someone said to him:] The government has now given you another opportunity. It is now your duty to work sincerely for the welfare of the country and to abandon the path of violent revolution. It is with this hope and this confidence that the government has released you.

> Sanyal replies: Vinayak Damodar Savarkar also expressed the same sentiments in his petition as I did. Then why was Savarkar not released while I was? If what you say is true, Savarkar too should have been released.

> I believe there were two reasons why I was released but Savarkar was not.

> First, in Bengal there was tremendous public agitation demanding the release of political prisoners like me. This was the main reason behind the release of political prisoners. In Maharashtra, however, there was no movement as intense as the one in Bengal.

> Second, after the arrest of Savarkar and a few of his associates, the revolutionary movement in Maharashtra had largely been suppressed. Therefore, the government feared that if Savarkar and others like him were released, the revolutionary movement in Maharashtra might begin again.

> Apart from this, another reason was that Savarkar had been implicated in the assassination of an Englishman in London. The British government was especially angered by this. At the time of releasing political prisoners, the government had adopted a policy that those who had been convicted of murder or charged with committing or abetting murder would not be released. According to this policy as well, Savarkar could not be released because he had been charged with murder.

—Sachindranath Sanyal, Bandi Jeevan: A Life in Chains, p. 226

Writing to his brother Narayanrao on 6 July 1920, Savarkar said:

> …For although we two [Vinayak and his brother Babarao] have been declared to fall outside the scope of the Amnesty and are still rotting in the cells, yet the sight of hundreds of our political comrades and co-sufferers' release makes us feel relieved and repaid for all the agitation that we have been carrying on for the last eight years or so through strikes, letters, petitions, the press, and the platform, here and elsewhere.

Savarkar not only campaigned to secure a general amnesty, but also urged his fellow political prisoners to accept the conditions attached to it. Those released were required to sign a pledge undertaking to abstain from political and revolutionary activities for a specified period. While many prisoners were initially reluctant to do so, Savarkar argued that accepting these conditions was a pragmatic and strategic course of action that would ultimately serve the larger national interest by enabling experienced revolutionaries to return to public life:

> ...All these discharged prisoners had to sign a pledge that they would abstain from politics and revolutionary activity for a certain number of years. And, if again they were tried and found guilty of treason, they would come back to the Andamans to serve the remainder of their life-sentence…a hot discussion went on among us whether we should at all sign such a pledge for procuring our release. My advice to my friends was that there was nothing wrong in it, as it referred to a future contingency and was in the best national interest. I quoted to them instances from the life of Shivaji, of his dealing with Jai Singh and Afzulkhan; I told them of Guru Govind and his flight after the incident of Chamkaur; nay, I drew upon the life of Lord Krishna himself, in order to convince them of the correctness of the step they were taking.

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3) He never apologised for his revolutionary activities or begged for release.

None of Savarkar's petitions contain an apology for his revolutionary activities or a plea for mercy. He used flowery, submissive language (we will discuss this later using the example of Shivaji), such as calling himself a "prodigal son" returning to the "parental doors of the Government." Critics interpret these phrases as proof that he surrendered. However, this kind of language was standard in formal petitions of the time and does not amount to an admission of guilt or repentance.

In fact, even the British official Reginald Craddock, to whom Savarkar wrote his first clemency petition in 1913, clearly stated in his report that, from his conversation with Vinayak, it was evident that “he cannot be said to express any regret or repentance” for what he had done, and that “the hopeless condition of Indians in 1906–1907 was his excuse for entering upon a conspiracy.”

Even during his conversation with the Governor of Bombay in 1923, he defended his earlier revolutionary actions, arguing that revolutionary methods had become necessary only because peaceful and constitutional means were unavailable at the time. However, now that constitutional methods existed, he was willing to pursue national work through them instead:

> I was compelled to be a revolutionary and a conspirator when I had discovered that there was no peaceful or constitutional method open to me to attain the goal I had in view. But if the present reforms prove to be useful for the furtherance of our hopes in a peaceful way, we shall very willingly turn to constitutional methods and pursue gladly the constructive work on the principle of responsive cooperation... National good was our sole objective and, if peaceful means served that end, we had no reason to cling to our old ways.

At the same time, as a barrister, he fought for the legal rights of political prisoners and argued that they were being denied the rights and privileges granted to white political prisoners convicted of similar offences in Britain:

> …Will you keep a convict for ever in jail for fear that if he is discharged, he will begin his old game again? It is fair that you release me in pursuance of your own regulations…So long as you don't catch a thief in the very act, or you have no ground to suspect him of theft, you cannot arrest him for theft. And the same rule applies to a case of treason…You have let off the Irish Sinn Feiners ten times. They broke your conditions ten times and yet you have made them free on the same conditions the eleventh time. Why not trust us then at least once? Why not give us a chance?

> ...I had the deep satisfaction of realising that I had done all that I could for the well-being of thousands of my fellow-prisoners, and the Government had no rational explanation to offer for my detention in that prison.

In other words, Savarkar was using his knowledge of law as a barrister to argue that there was no lawful basis for his continued imprisonment, even under British law. He was not simply begging for mercy or apologising to secure his release, but making a legal case for it.

This is supported by later British official reports, which repeatedly concluded that Savarkar had not genuinely renounced his revolutionary beliefs or undergone a change of heart. This was one of the reasons they kept him imprisoned for over a decade and then restricted his movement and political activities for another 13 years, even after conditionally releasing him.

With these facts established, we can now turn to the central question:

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What was Savarkar's rationale behind writing the clemency petitions?

When Savarkar was sentenced to two life terms and transported to the Andaman Cellular Jail, he experienced profound despair. He writes in his prison memoir:

> …My mind asked me: "This your body and this your power, of what use are they to you now? What will you, and what can you, do with them to liberate your country, to revive its spirit, and to cover it with glory? Nothing, nothing at all, now and forever. Your body, your mind, your will and your power—they are all dust now in this darkness of your prison-house. And no more will you see light, no more the way out. The world knows not of your sufferings, and will not care to know. What effect, then, can it have upon the world? Thus you are of no use to yourself, no use to the world, nothing for the cause, nothing for mankind.

This passage reveals how Savarkar viewed his imprisonment. He believed that his education, leadership, writing, and organisational abilities had become useless so long as he remained locked away. To him, a revolutionary's value lay not in suffering for the sake of suffering, but in escaping and continuing the struggle against the enemy.

Unlike Gandhi, He rejected the idea that enduring imprisonment or death would soften the heart of a ruthless colonial regime. His approach was fundamentally strategic: when facing a cunning enemy, a revolutionary should use strategy and deception, not voluntary self-destruction.

This principle consistently guided his actions.

One example comes from the Andaman Cellular Jail, where a young prisoner undertook an indefinite hunger strike and was reduced to skin and bones. Rather than praising the fast, Savarkar persuaded him to abandon it, arguing that a revolutionary's foremost duty was to remain alive and continue the struggle.

He advised prisoners to stop weakening themselves through hunger strikes and instead do work strikes, that imposed costs on the British authorities. His advice was simple:

> Why do you starve yourselves? Take as much food from them as you can, grow fat, and don't work.

In other words, extract as many resources from your enemy as possible while giving as little in return. Make the prison costly for the British, not for yourself.

Savarkar reiterated exactly the same philosophy years later, after the death of revolutionary Jatindranath Das during the Lahore Jail hunger strike in 1929. Writing in the 5 May 1929 issue of the weekly Shraddhanand, he praised Das's courage but warned against turning martyrdom into a general strategy:

> …Many have refused to take food and are saying, “Our death will be on England’s conscience. It will be on their head.” Many have become disabled as a result; some are on the point of dying. They are all praiseworthy. But…what is praiseworthy in one instance is not worth being followed in other instances.

> Any behaviour or virtue which is praiseworthy or honourable under one set of circumstances is not necessarily worth following in other circumstances. On the contrary, such action may need to be discouraged. One must consider the tactics carefully. We must give due consideration to the relative strengths and weaknesses, circumstances, and possible movements of the enemies. Our agitation or our fight should not only be praiseworthy but must also be effective and achieve the desired aim.

> …A good general only sends in just enough troops to win a battle. His interest is not in sacrificing the lives of his soldiers but in winning with the least number of casualties. Dying for the sake of dying is madness. Martyrdom, the spirit to defend a post to the last man, is sometimes necessary but only as part of a greater strategy of a struggle. Guru Tegh Bahadur (9th Guru of Sikhs) and Maratha King Sambhaji became martyrs in the 17th century for defence of Hindu Dharma because there was no other choice. The main aim of a struggle is VICTORY. Our tactics must ensure maximum damage to the enemy with least damage to ourselves.

> Martyrdom can be a part of battle strategy; it may be essential but must be used in exceptional circumstances. We must remember that it does not guarantee success.

> Guru Tegh Bahadur and Maratha King Sambhaji refused to renounce Hindu Dharma and embrace Islam. They became martyrs in the 17th century for our cause. That martyrdom is commendable and worth following. Similarly, if any revolutionaries face torture and are asked to reveal any information that would damage our freedom struggle, and so decide to be martyrs, it would be commendable. But sacrificing one’s life for the sake of it is madness, and we must condemn that tendency.

> …Under such circumstances it is more prudent to retreat. That is a sign of true patriotism and bravery. We must distinguish between determination and stubbornness. The weapon which inflicts wounds on the user is not a weapon. Anyone using such a weapon is not a clever leader.

> While in Andaman, Bhai Paramanand, Nani Gopal, Bhai Prithwisingh, Bhai Mohansingh, and others resorted to hunger strikes for their grievances. But I (Savarkar) persuaded them to abandon their method. And as a result, after release from jail, they are doing wonderful service to our nation. I have explained such cases in my book My Transportation for Life. But suppose they had not listened to me and died of hunger strikes, no one back home (on mainland India) would have even heard of them.

> Prisoners in jail should fight for their rights and concessions, be it for a glass of milk, or for getting newspapers, for provision of a table and chair. Make life difficult for the authorities. But hunger strike? And that too for such ordinary demands? And without making any dent in the arrogance of the authorities? And that too by warriors like Bhagat Singh, Datta, Satinbabu, and fifty others like them? I must vehemently oppose such action. My friends, for God’s sake abandon such suicidal hunger strikes immediately. Eat twice the normal amount but cause damage to our enemy.

> I say once again that the example of Jatindra is honourable, praiseworthy, but it is an exception. Others must NOT follow his example. Shivaji was imprisoned by Aurangzeb. He did not go on hunger strike. He escaped and challenged the might of Aurangzeb again. Change with times by all means, but follow his strategy.

Just like Shivaji, Savarkar tried to escape from British custody by jumping through the porthole of a ship at Marseille and attempting to claim asylum in France, an incident that later triggered a famous international legal battle.

Talking about Savarkar in his report, British official Reginald Craddock says: “…I think he would escape from any Indian jail. So important a leader is he that the European section of the Indian anarchists would plot for his escape, which would before long be organized. If he were allowed outside the Cellular Jail in the Andamans, his escape would be certain. His friends could easily charter a steamer to lie off one of the islands and a little money distributed locally would do the rest.”

This suggests that Savarkar was confined in the Andamans precisely because the British believed he would have escaped from any prison on the Indian mainland.

Now that escaping was out of question in the Andamans, Savarkar regarded these clemency petitions as a tactical means of continuing the freedom struggle, not abandoning it.

He believed a revolutionary's duty was to remain effective: dying or going insane in prison served little purpose, whereas securing release even by accepting temporary defeat allowed one to continue the struggle.

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Example of Shivaji Maharaj

To deceive the British authorities that he was no longer a threat, Savarkar declared his willingness to pursue constitutional methods instead of revolutionary violence. Using his extraordinary skills as a writer, he used colourful language in these petitions, describing himself as a "prodigal son" returning to the "parental doors of the Government."

Some critics say that such language is proof of Savarkar's surrender. I wonder what these people would say when they find out that Shivaji Maharaj himself used such deceptive language before Jai Singh and Aurangzeb:

Quoting from Shivaji Raje's letters to Aurangzeb documented in the book House of Shivaji by Jadunath Sarkar:

> I am a useful servant of the Imperial Throne, and many services can be secured from my humble self. If the Mughal army turns to the invasion of Bijapur, such a course would be better than undergoing the many hardships of campaigning in this hilly region (i.e., the Konkan) of difficult paths and stony soil. (p. 104)

> Shiva, the meanest of life-devoting slaves, who wears the ring of servitude in his ear and the carpet of obedience on his shoulders, like an atom, represents the following words to those who stand at the Court of the Eternal Kingship and the intimate ones of the Court of the Khalifate of perpetual duration…(p. 127)

> On 20th May, Jafar Khan presented Shivaji's petition to the Emperor and got him to pardon Shivaji's offences and spare his life. (p. 143)

And yet, the same seemingly submissive Shivaji went on to build the Maratha Empire on the chest of that very Aurangzeb to whom he had not long before, been petitioning! He became one of the most celebrated Indian kings in popular memory, inspiring generations of freedom fighters, from Bal Gangadhar Tilak to Savarkar himself. Like any Maratha, Savarkar followed the example of his idol and employed deception when confronting a far stronger enemy.

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Evidence That Savarkar's Views Remained Unchanged

The final question that critics may put is this: how do we conclude Savarkar was genuinely using deception, with his petitions forming part of a strategy to convince the British, maybe he actually changed his views in prison?

To begin with, we should note that, as documented by the British themselves, they consistently concluded that Savarkar had not abandoned his revolutionary convictions. From his interviews in the Andamans to intelligence reports after his release, British officials repeatedly noted that Savarkar's revolutionary beliefs remained unchanged.

Apart from British assessments, Savarkar's own prison memoir, My Transportation for Life, published publicly in 1927, presents very different views than the one conveyed in his petitions:

> My brothers, you will surely bear me out when I say that, ground down under the sufferings as I was during the fourteen long years that I spent in the Andamans and even to the last day here, I have not flinched or retracted from what I was preaching all my life. I have given you the stories of all our martyrs and I have advised all along to hold firm by our creed of violent resistance if circumstances were to force it upon us. I have kept the flag flying. When I heard the sentence passed upon me fourteen years ago, the words dancing upon my lips were the same that are dancing upon them today. I uttered them then, I have uttered them during my long stay in prison, and they come forth from my mouth today, to be carved on your heart and mind, and to ring in your ears for good. Let us say all of us, Glory to the Goddess of Freedom; Victory to our Mother!

A skeptic might still argue that by publicly writing this, Savarkar was merely trying to protect his reputation after his release. For the sake of argument, let us accept that possibility.

Now, is there any anecdote that tells us Savarkar expressed similar views privately or promoted revolutionary violence as a means to freedom? The answer is a resounding yes!

One such account comes from Vasudev Balwant Gogate, a revolutionary who as a student at Fergusson College, attempted to assassinate Sir Ernest Hotson, the Governor of Bombay, in 1931. Gogate was sentenced to rigorous imprisonment and was released in 1937. He later joined Hindu Mahasabha and served as Mayor of Poona (1959–60), became a member of the Maharashtra Legislative Council, and was Leader of the Opposition during his final four years there.

As a young man, Gogate belonged to Savarkar's revolutionary circle in Maharashtra. In an oral interview taken in 1970 he narrated visiting Savarkar in Ratnagiri in 1929. Although Savarkar was prohibited from participating in politics at the time, Gogate stayed with him for several days and held lengthy private discussions about the political situation in India.

From the Transcript of interview:

> Shri Gogate commences his reminiscences by relating how he was influenced by the revolutionary philosophy of V. D. Savarkar and how he joined his group.

> Shri Gogate: When I was studying in the 5th Standard (English) at Miraj High School, I happened to read the life of Vir Savarkar and was greatly influenced by his revolutionary activities in London.

> I myself, along with certain friends, got 1,000 copies of Vir Savarkar's photograph printed and distributed them free among the Fergusson College students.

> During this period, I went to Ratnagiri, where Vir Savarkar was interned. There were restrictions on him not to take any part in politics. However, he was then carrying on a social reform movement for Hindus. I went to his house, stayed there for a couple of days, and had long discussions with him about the political situation in India.

> He first of all advised me to determine my goal. He said:

> If you want to be an editor, you can do that. But my view is that whatever political consciousness is created by writing in a newspaper is of much less effect than the political awakening which is created by the sacrifice of men like Bhagat Singh and Rajguru. So, unless you first determine your goal, you should not step into politics. But once you do that, then certainly you will have to join politics.

> Then the question arose whether the method of terrorism was the right method. He said:

> The method of terrorism is right, because so long as India is in bondage, the only way to fight the British will be by revolutionary activities. The other activities will lead to mass agitation. But the revolutionary activities will create an effective point. The slogan of 'Bande Mataram' given by the martyrs on the platform of execution—that platform on which the martyrs were hanged—has created greater political awakening than ten sessions of the Indian National Congress.

> He referred to the statement of Madan Lal Dhingra, in which Madan Lal Dhingra had stated:

> So long as the British are ruling India, there is a war between the British and the Indians. An open war is rendered impossible. I attack by surprise. And the only lesson that India wants to learn is how to die, and that can best be taught by dying ourselves.

> Therefore, the revolutionary philosophy states that if revolutionaries come together and make an active effort, they will be able to drive the British out.

> Then the question arose whether this individual terrorism—shooting a Governor here and there—would be helpful to freedom. He said:

> Shooting a Governor here and there certainly would not bring freedom, but there are times when the atrocities reach such a point that unless you register your protest by such an effective action, the atrocities do not stop.

And then the same V.B. Gogate went on to shoot at the Governor of Bombay, Ernest Hotson.

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Conclusion

After reading this post, the reader should now understand that submitting clemency petitions was a common practice and that many eminent freedom fighters wrote them. The reader should also understand Savarkar's pragmatic and strategic approach: to secure his release so he could continue serving the national cause from outside prison. Finally, the evidence presented shows that his views remained fundamentally unchanged after his release in 1924.

Now the reader must question: if these facts are so clear and well documented, why does so much misinformation about Savarkar persist? Why is he so often vilified despite the sacrifices he made for the nation? Who benefits from promoting these misconceptions?

Vande Mataram!

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Book name: Sanghi who never went to a Sakha by Rahul Roushan

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On 6 January 1924, after spending almost fourteen years in prison, Savarkar was conditionally released by the British Government.

Several factors led to this decision.

First, years of harsh imprisonment had severely damaged Savarkar's health. The British Government feared that if such a prominent political prisoner died in custody, it would spark widespread public outrage, damage the government's reputation, and possibly encourage more people to join the revolutionary movement.

Second, public pressure for his release continued to grow. His supporters became increasingly vocal, and campaigns demanding the release of the Savarkar brothers gained momentum across the country.

The Bombay National Union organized a massive petition calling for their release, collecting more than 75,000 signatures.

Reference: Vikram Sampath, Savarkar: Echoes from a Forgotten Past, p. 419.

In the Legislative Assembly, legislator Vithalbhai Patel moved a resolution on 24 February 1920 recommending amnesty for the Savarkar brothers and other political prisoners.

A year later, on 26 March 1921, legislator Rangaswamy Ayyangar moved another resolution in the Council concerning a petition signed by more than 50,000 people seeking amnesty for the Savarkar brothers. The resolution urged the House to recommend their release to the Governor-General in Legislative Council.

Reference: Vikram Sampath, Savarkar: Echoes from a Forgotten Past, p. 424.

Despite sustained pressure from family members, political leaders, the public, and even international supporters, the Government remained unwilling to release Savarkar. Officials feared that his return would once again revive revolutionary activity in the Deccan, which had largely subsided after the arrest of the Savarkar brothers.

By 1922, however, the government faced increasing and justified criticism for continuing to imprison the Savarkar brothers, especially after other political prisoners involved in similar conspiracy cases had already been released.

Following his interview with the Governor of Bombay, the authorities concluded that releasing Savarkar under strict restrictions in the remote district of Ratnagiri was safer than keeping him in prison.

Accordingly, on 6 January 1924, Savarkar was released from prison under two strict conditions. He had to remain confined to Ratnagiri district and was prohibited from taking part in political activities. These restrictions were initially imposed for five years, however, the British Government repeatedly extended them and even considered sending him back to the Cellular Jail, claiming that he had violated the conditions of his release by making seditious speeches. This tells us that Britishers still did not trusted him to have quit his revolutionary ways, He was finally granted complete freedom in 1937.

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Excerpt from 'My Transportation for Life'

> Just then I received a call from the Superintendent to meet him in the office. At the same time a trusted man sent me a message that I was free.

> The political convicts who had stayed with me, worked with me, and suffered with me, in whose company I had passed so many years of my hard life in the Andamans, were full of joy at the news. Their eyes shone full of tears. But I trembled that I was leaving them behind in that prison. They heartily congratulated me. The Sikhs among them, some of whom were sixty years old, said, “Babuji, come closer to us, do not forget us.” And they locked me up in their embrace full of affection and reverence. They added, “You have been on transportation for life long before us. You had passed seven or eight years in the Andamans when we came there. Why then should you be sorry that you go out, while we remain behind? Is it not right that you should precede us? If you are free, we are as good as free. In fact, your freedom will pave the way for us. At least it will pave the road to freedom for our motherland.”

> I answered, “It all depends upon the strength that God will give me to complete the task. But, my brothers, you will surely bear me out when I say that, ground down under the sufferings as I was during the fourteen long years that I spent in the Andamans and even to the last day here, I have not flinched or retracted from what I was preaching all my life. I have given you the stories of all our martyrs and I have advised all along to hold firm by our creed of violent resistance if circumstances were to force it upon us. I have kept the flag flying. When I heard the sentence passed upon me fourteen years ago, the words dancing upon my lips were the same that are dancing upon them today. I uttered them then, I have uttered them during my long stay in prison, and they come forth from my mouth today, to be carved on your heart and mind, and to ring in your ears for good. Let us say all of us, Glory to the Goddess of Freedom; Victory to our Mother.”

> We greeted one another with these words, we hailed our mother, and then I parted from them.

> As soon as I stepped into the office, the Superintendent read out to me the order of my release. It was that for five years after my release I was to take no part in politics and stay at Ratnagiri as a prisoner on parole.

> All the inmates of the prison, my fellow-countrymen, prisoners and officers, the youngest as well as the oldest, formed a circle round me. They said with one voice, “Savarkar, you have been an exile from your country like Rama who went to the forest for fourteen years, abandoning his beloved Ayodhya. You have passed through similar trials, sorrows and bereavements. Hail to you, Savarkar, may God bless you. The whole country rejoices today and its joy knows no bounds.”

> I could not contain myself for the kind words spoken by them and for the affectionate heart they betokened. And I replied, “There is one great omission in this comparison. Rama went into exile, but Rama finished Ravana and won the battle. I have gone into exile and suffered, but Ravana is still alive. I shall feel myself free only when that is accomplished. With God's grace even that task will accomplish itself like many other minor things to which I have put my hand. Some day, sometime, that also will happen, and you must realise the difference, and it must give you acute pain.”

> My relative had come to fetch me away. The prison gate was opened and I came out. What varied means I had used to secure my release! And how I felt then that I was escaping, not through the open gate, but through its keyhole.

> At last I was a free man. I looked about me and said to myself I had scored over my life sentence of fifty years. But who dares say that I may not be sent back to serve it to the full? It was not yet time, methought, to bid final goodbye to this prison. I must not forget it yet. Was I not free at Marseilles? Had I not made my escape? This may be but the repetition of that experience, for India's battle for freedom has yet to be won, and the struggle must go on.

> Indulging in such kind of talk with my friends, and smiling at the same time, I entered the car and it moved on its wheels. It brought me into the land of the living and had left behind my sentence to perish. The boundary line was crossed, and I was both alive and free.

> The greetings that I received from the whole country, as I came back alive to them, made me for a time oblivious of myself. On the very first day of my freedom, I was floating, as it were, in the upper air of my country. When it hailed me as a hero and patted me on the back, all the wounds inflicted on me during my fourteen years of prison life seemed to heal. And the only thing that remained with me were these reminiscences.

> Therefore, as I had invoked the Goddess with the words "That another image," in order to fortify myself against the intending shadow of the death sentence and to be prepared to swallow the cup of poison it was holding out to my lips, I now recall the same Goddess to my mind with deep gratitude for my survival and, bowing my head, take final leave of her. I pray that the heavenly Goddess may go back, for the time being, to her abode.

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Dear Reader

The story is told. The curtain is rung down on it. Two life sentences have been run. And I have brought together my recollections of them within the cover of this book. They are narrated in brief outline to you; they are put together within the narrowest compass.

When I came into this world, God sent me in it on a sort of life sentence. It was the span of life allotted to me by Time to stay in this "prison-house of life." This story is but a chapter of that book of life—a longer story not yet ended. As I completed this chapter as a dedication to my great worship of the ideal, so the book of life may end as a dedication to it without break or faltering.

Yes, I am free. The iron fetters on my feet are broken. But the chain of longing that binds my heart still remains. I have come out of the stone walls which had buried me. But my soul is still imprisoned, for my vision is not yet reached. The horizon that limits it is not yet crossed. It engirdles my soul and stifles it.

Dear Reader, surely you must have been wearied to hear my story, and put out by the endless repetitions it contains. But I am as much tired in writing as you may begin reading it, this weary tale of my life. It has been a long and weary way for me also. How I have suffered and how much fatigue of the mind I have passed through in putting it on paper! But I shall be more than paid for it if you feel the same disgust for it that I have felt. For you can finish reading it in a day, while I had to live it for fourteen long years of transportation. And if the story is so tiresome, unendurable and disgusting to you, how much must the living of it have been to me! Every moment of those fourteen years in that jail has been an agony of the soul and the body to me, and to my fellow-convicts in that jail. It was not only fatiguing, unbearable and futile to us all. It was equally, or more, excruciating as well, to them and to me. And it is only that you may know it, and feel the fatigue, the disgust and the pain of it, as we have felt it, that I have chosen to write it for you. I hope you will have through it some idea of what we have passed through, what we have endured.

Dear Reader, I lay down my pen and take leave of you. My broken pen I cannot put aside, however, without telling you never to forget those who stuck to their task, disheartening and trying though it was; who embraced it to the last; who were nearly burnt up in that fiery ordeal; and who came out of it because nothing could burn them up completely in it. Lest you forget! Dear Reader, I say it to you as my last word, do not forget them. For sooner or later the memory of them will serve you and be your salvation; nothing else will avail!

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Reference: My Transportation For Life

Get the PDF of the whole book from here: https://savarkar.org/en/pdfs/My-Transportation-for-Life-Veer-Savarkar.pdf

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Revolutionary Sachindranath Sanyal [1893-1942] founded the Patna branch of the Anushilan Samiti in 1913 and was involved in the Ghadar uprising. Arrested by the British, he was sentenced to transportation for life and imprisoned in the Cellular Jail.

Following his release under the Royal Clemency of 1920, Sanyal reorganized the revolutionary movement in North India. In 1924, he co-founded the Hindustan Republican Association (HRA) alongside Ram Prasad Bismil, Jogesh Chandra Chatterjee, and others. He also mentored a younger generation of revolutionaries, including Bhagat Singh and Chandra Shekhar Azad. The HRA sought to establish an independent democratic republic through armed revolution, and its celebrated manifesto, The Revolutionary, is attributed to Sanyal.

After the Kakori Conspiracy, Sanyal was arrested once again and received a second sentence of transportation for life, making him one of the very few Indian revolutionaries to be sentenced to life imprisonment twice.

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In his prison memoir Bandi Jeevan, Sanyal reflected on Savarkar not being granted amnesty. He noted that he had submitted an assurance to the British Government that was almost identical to Savarkar's in the aftermath of the constitutional reforms, yet he himself had been released while Savarkar remained imprisoned.

Sanyal reasoned that, following the arrests of Savarkar brothers and other members of Abhinav Bharat, the revolutionary movement in Maharashtra had largely subsided. The British authorities feared that releasing Savarkar could rekindle revolutionary activity in the province and therefore resorted to legal technicalities and administrative pretexts to keep him confined.

> [Someone said to him:] The government has now given you another opportunity. It is now your duty to work sincerely for the welfare of the country and to abandon the path of violent revolution. It is with this hope and this confidence that the government has released you.

> Sanyal: Vinayak Damodar Savarkar also expressed the same sentiments in his petition as I did. Then why was Savarkar not released while I was? If what you say is true, Savarkar too should have been released.

> I believe there were two reasons why I was released but Savarkar was not.

> First, in Bengal there was tremendous public agitation demanding the release of political prisoners like me. This was the main reason behind the release of political prisoners. In Maharashtra, however, there was no movement as intense as the one in Bengal.

> Second, after the arrest of Savarkar and a few of his associates, the revolutionary movement in Maharashtra had largely been suppressed. Therefore, the government feared that if Savarkar and others like him were released, the revolutionary movement in Maharashtra might begin again.

> Apart from this, another reason was that Savarkar had been implicated in the assassination of an Englishman in London. The British government was especially angered by this. At the time of releasing political prisoners, the government had adopted a policy that those who had been convicted of murder or charged with committing or abetting murder would not be released. According to this policy as well, Savarkar could not be released because he had been charged with murder.

—Sachindranath Sanyal, Bandi Jeevan: A Life in Chains, p. 226

The video is created by @Bhawani_mandir, @Kraantiie and @Savarkarite on Instagram, please do interact with the original video to give it more reach:

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DaIxYOLSn7k/

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Context:

On 15 January 1934, a devastating earthquake struck Bihar and Nepal, killing thousands of people.

After the disaster, Mahatma Gandhi wrote that the earthquake was God's punishment for the sin of untouchability. He said that his "inner voice" told him this.

Many people criticized this view. Rabindranath Tagore said that by linking a natural disaster to divine punishment Gandhi is promoting superstition.

At the same time, some orthodox Hindu religious leaders claimed the opposite: they said the earthquake was God's punishment for efforts to weaken or abolish the caste system and the traditional Hindu social order.

Savarkar's remark was aimed at both of these explanations. He rejected the idea that natural disasters should be interpreted as divine punishment for social or religious issues.

The image was made by @kraantiie on Instagram, please follow them:

https://www.instagram.com/kraantiie

I was reading the book Sanghi Who Never Went To A Sakha by Rahul Roushan and this passage came where he talks about how Hindu victims are systematically erased from memory and I find this so true.

How many of us think of Kanhaiya Lal or Umesh Kolhe or

Kamlesh Tiwari even once a month while the Other side keeps repeating the same narrative, whenever we think of pogrom against minorities or riots in India we always think of 2002 Gujarat riots not the 1984 Anti-Sikh pogrom.

Why is that?

Excerpt from Calcutta Maidan Speech which Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel gave on 3 Jan 1948 as Deputy Prime Minister.

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The speech is authentic and here is its complete transcript: https://cbkwgl.wordpress.com/2021/01/02/sardar-patels-calcutta-maidan-speech-transcript/

Longer excerpt from speech: https://youtu.be/\_3HFNqforiM?si=vXTIT3y-LzbUSnnG

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The speech is authentic and here's the complete transcript: https://cbkwgl.wordpress.com/2021/01/02/sardar-patels-calcutta-maidan-speech-transcript/