After 27 years of imprisonment & internment, SwatantryaVeer Savarkar was finally released unconditionally in 1937. His release marked the beginning of a new phase in his public life. After receiving a large reception in Poona, Savarkar proceeded to Bombay, where an even more elaborate welcome awaited him.

At the city’s railway station, the three brothers—Vinayak, Babarao and Narayan—met as free men for the first time since Savarkar’s departure to London in 1906!!

The newspapers were agog with information about the public reception that awaited Savarkar in Bombay. As the Kaiser-i-Hind reported on 27 June 1937:

> As previously announced, Mr. Vinayakrao Savarkar will arrive here this morning. Mr. Savarkar will be taken in procession from Azad Maidan to Krishna Cinema. The procession will start at 9 A.M. today and terminate at the Krishna Theatre at 10 A.M. At the Krishna Theatre at 10 A.M. Mr. Savarkar will be accorded a Public Reception and Address by the Bombay Savarkar Reception Committee. Mr. Laxmidas Tairsee will preside at the function and prominent leaders, including Messrs. K.F. Nariman, S.K. Patil, President and General Secretary of the Bombay Provincial Congress Committee, Mr. Jamnadas Dwarkadas, Mr. M.N. Roy, Mr. Silam will attend and address the gathering.

Several eminent citizens under the leadership of Barrister Jamnadas Mehta, who was instrumental in ensuring Savarkar’s release after his own election to the Bombay Provincial Legislative Assembly, decided to give a rousing public reception.

A committee was formed for this and, unlike in the rest of Maharashtra, was supported by the Bombay Pradesh Congress Committee. This committee requested several political leaders to give their messages on this occasion. Some of these messages were published in the Lokmanya dated 27 June 1937.

Congress president Jawaharlal Nehru sent his greetings saying: “Welcome and respect to Vinayakrao Savarkar.”

Subhas Chandra Bose in his statement said:

> I heartily welcome Barrister Savarkar who is returning to Bombay now as a free man. I hope that he will join the Congress and support the freedom movement. He has a bright future ahead of him.

C. Rajagopalachari said:

> The vigour and organizing abilities of Mr. Savarkar is something I can never forget. It also brings waves of memories of his phenomenal plan of escaping by jumping into the sea near Marseille under the nose of the guards when he was being escorted from England to India, and France then handing him over to British by violating the International Law is fascinating even today. According to me he is someone who has always been a fighter who will keep the torch of independence burning. He must be called an embodiment of heroism, courage, adventure, and nationalism.

Rajagopalachari also revealed that he had written a biography of Savarkar about twenty years ago. ‘What can I now add,’ he wondered, ‘to a biography of his that I had penned nearly twenty years ago, because since then his intellectual prowess must have only deepened by his prolonged introspection during his extended internment.’

Manvendranath Roy, the founder of the Communist Party of India, said in his message:

> Savarkar is a leading freedom fighter of the 20th century, who had dedicated his life to the freedom the country. He didn’t care that he could have been hanged or jailed in Andaman. I disagree with Savarkar’s political ideology but I have the utmost respect for him as he is one of the few patriots who risked his life and whose sacrifice, bravery and his philosophy demands respect. I welcome his return to full freedom.

These were certainly different times in the history of Indian politics where political opponents were not personal enemies and one could differ with another’s political ideology and yet have charitable assessments of their contributions.

A massive public reception was organized in Bombay to welcome Savarkar. After a grand procession from Azad Maidan to Girgaon, Savarkar was felicitated at Krishna Cinema. He was given a citation in a silver trophy and garlanded on behalf of forty-one different national organizations.

Several renowned personalities such as Congressmen K.F. Nariman and S.K. Patil, and M.N. Roy of the CPI spoke on the occasion. Patil made an earnest appeal that Savarkar take over the reins of the party that looked at him with the hope of much-needed guidance and support at this juncture.

In his thanksgiving speech, Savarkar expressed his gratitude and said:

> This is a unique ceremony as people of different ideologies have gathered together to welcome me. I will try my best to fulfill your expectation of working towards the national good. I have had a lot of ups and downs in my life and I am used to facing difficulties. If communists are asking for a religion-less society, I would support them, but I cannot accept injustice heaped on only one religion in the name of equality. I would urge the Congress to not deny the rights of a particular community while giving special privileges to another. I do not expect the Congress to turn into Hindu Mahasabha, but it should not turn into an outfit that treats Hindus unfairly in order to safeguard the interests of other communities.

The Bombay Chronicle, while welcoming his release, summed up the exhilaration with which he was being received across cities and towns:

> Savarkar is almost a legendary figure to the modern generation. His career reads almost like a romance, and though the struggle for freedom has received a new orientation during the last quarter of a century under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi, there will not be a true nationalist in India who will not feel happy today

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Reference: Vikram Sampath, Savarkar: A Contested Legacy page 201-204.

Preface

Savarkar’s decade-long imprisonment in the Cellular Jail (1911–1921), commonly known as Kala Pani, involved extreme physical labour, degrading sanitary conditions, and sustained psychological pressure.

This post aims to summarise and present those conditions to a general audience. It is not intended to evoke sympathy or pity. As rightly put by eminent Marathi writer and humourist Purushottam Lakshman Deshpande while speaking during Savarkar’s birth centenary at the Cellular Jail in 1983:

> You have probably read what punishments he suffered in Andaman, from his book 'My Transportation for Life.' However, I am certain that, in this book, he has not described even 10 per cent of what he actually suffered, because he did not want pity or sympathy from us, neither did he want people to react and merely say, ‘My God, what horrors Savarkar suffered.’ He wanted youngsters to react and say, ‘I too am prepared to suffer like Savarkar for our nation!’

Reference: Original article by Prem Vaidya, published in Tumhi Ahmi Apan Saglech (Marathi bimonthly, 21 February–6 March 2000), edited by Avinash Dharmadhikari.

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Brutal Physical Labor

The work given to political prisoners in the Andamans was meant to break their bodies and spirits.

Savarkar was tied to a heavy wooden beam like a bullock and made to run in circles to crush dried coconut and extract oil. The daily target; about 30 pounds of oil, was nearly impossible to meet. If he failed, he was often dragged across the floor or beaten severely. He wrote that his hands would bleed, crack, and peel, and that the exhaustion was so intense he would sometimes lose consciousness.

He was also made to pound coconut husks with heavy wooden mallets to extract fiber. This work continued until his hands became swollen and covered with painful, bloody blisters.

He was forced to do such labor for months at a time. Savarkar described these hardships as:

> Hardly out of bed, we were ordered to wear a strap of cloth, were shut up in our cells, and made to turn the wheel of the oil-mill. Coconut pieces were put in the empty and hollow space to be crushed by the wheel passing over them, and its turning became heavier as the space was fuller. Twenty turns of the wheel were enough to drain away the strength of the strongest coolie and the worst, brawny badmash. No dacoit past twenty was put on that work. But the poor political prisoner was fit to do it at any age. And the doctor in charge ever certified that he could do it! It was the medical science of the Andamans that had upheld the doctor!

> So the poor creature had to go half the round of the wheel by pushing the handle with his hands, and the other half was completed by hanging on to it with all his might. So much physical strength had to be expended on crushing the coconut pieces for oil. Youths of twenty or more, who in their lives had not done any physical labour, were put upon that labour. They were all educated young men of delicate constitution. From six to ten in the morning they were yoked to the wheel, which they turned round and round till their breath had become heavy. Some of them had fainted many times during the process. They had to sit down for sheer exhaustion and helplessness.

> Ordinarily, all work had to be stopped between ten and twelve. But this ‘Kolu’, as the oil-mill labour was called, had to continue throughout. The door was opened only when the meal was announced. The man came in and served the meal in the pan and went away, and the door was shut. If, after washing his hands, one were to wipe away the perspiration on his body, the Jamadar—the worst of gangsters in the whole lot—would go at him with loud abuse. There was no water for washing hands. Drinking water was to be had only by propitiating the Jamadar.

> While you were at Kolu, you felt very thirsty. The waterman gave no water except for a consideration, which was to palm off to him some tobacco in exchange. If one spoke to the Jamadar, his retort was, ‘A prisoner is given only two cups of water and you have already consumed three. Whence can I bring you more water? From your father?’ We have put down the retort of the Jamadar in the most decent language possible! If water could not be had for washing and drinking, what can be said of water for bathing?

Reference: My Transportation for Life, Chapter IX, Early History of the Political Prisoners.

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Physical Torture and Punishments

Any disobedience or even slight slowing down at work led to harsh punishments.

As punishment, Savarkar was often chained to a hook high on the wall of his cell. He was forced to stand for long hours without rest, usually from 7–11 AM and 12–5 PM, and this continued for several days at a time.

He was also made to wear painful iron restraints. A 16-inch iron bar was fixed between his ankles, keeping his legs forced apart. This made walking, working, and even sleeping extremely painful.

Barindra Kumar Ghose (also known as Barin Ghose) was a Bengali revolutionary and a key figure in the Alipore Bomb Case (1908). He was also the younger brother of Aurobindo Ghose. After his conviction, he was sent to the Andaman Cellular Jail for life.

Barin Ghose was among about 100 political prisoners held there, along with Savarkar brothers. His writings give a clear picture of the brutality inside the prison.

He noted that prison authorities deliberately chose warders and officers who would show no sympathy toward prisoners. These guards were often extremely harsh and violent in enforcing discipline.

> There was an apprehension that Hindu guards might sympathize and fraternize with us. Therefore, all the masters of our fate—the Petty Officers and warders—were chosen from among the Mahomedans, either Hindusthani, Punjabi, or Pathan. A Pathan is what we ordinarily know as a Kabuli fruit-seller. But in Port Blair they form the Myrmidons of King Yama [the God of Death]. Ask them to capture a man, they will bring his head. Lazy and slothful and corrupt themselves, they are violently overzealous in extracting work from other people.

He described how punishments were given for even small reasons:

> … ‘Ramlal sits a little crosswise in the file, give him two blows on the neck’, ‘Mustapha did not get up immediately he was told to, so pull off his moustache’, ‘Bakaulla is late in coming from the latrine, apply the baton and unloose the skin of his posterior’—such were the beautiful proceedings by which they maintained discipline in the prison.

Reference: Barindra Kumar Ghose, The Tale of My Exile, pp. 66–67.

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Dehumanizing Living Conditions

The jail authorities controlled even the most basic human needs to humiliate and break the prisoners.

Savarkar was forced to bathe and rinse his mouth with dirty, salty seawater. This left his skin sticky and his hair rough and stiff. Clean drinking water was limited and strictly rationed, making daily life even more difficult.

Prisoners were allowed to use the toilet only three times a day. During the night, when they were locked in their cells for about 12 hours, they were given a small clay pot. If it overflowed, they had no choice but to sleep on a floor soiled with their own waste.

Savarkar described this as one of the worst parts of prison life:

> Who can describe the suffering—these agonies of mind and body? I may give you an instance, however, to point the moral. Of all the hardships of personal life in the Cellular Jail of the Andamans—gruelling work, scanty food and clothing, occasional thrashing, and others—none was so annoying and disgusting as its provision for urinals and lavatories. The prisoners had to control the demands of nature for hours together, for want of these arrangements in the cell itself. Morning, noon, and evening—these were the only hours when prisoners were let off for this purpose, and at stated times only. It was an outrage to ask the Jamadar for this convenience at any other moment than the stipulated hour.

Reference: My Transportation for Life, p. 86.

Prisoners had to control their bodily needs for long hours, as they were not allowed to go outside fixed times. Asking for permission at other times often led to scolding or punishment, so many suffered in silence.

At night, the situation became even more difficult. The small pot provided was too small to be of real use, and guards often ignored or refused requests to be let out. Prisoners were sometimes forced to beg repeatedly, and even then, they could be insulted or punished for asking.

The problem became far worse for prisoners suffering from illnesses like diarrhoea, which was common. Medical help was rare and unreliable, and officials often dismissed or ignored complaints. In some cases, prisoners were even blamed or punished for being sick.

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Psychological Torture

From the eleventh day of his imprisonment, Savarkar was kept in complete solitary confinement for six months.

Hard labor like the oil mill exhausted the body, but total isolation with no conversation, no human contact, was even more damaging to the mind.

He described this as a maddening solitude. He would spend hours looking at his own dusty, sweat-covered body, which slowly filled him with disgust and self-hatred.

Even after the initial six months, Savarkar was frequently kept in isolation to prevent him from "contaminating" other prisoners with his revolutionary ideas.

For ten years, he was also denied the chance to work outside the jail for fear of him escaping, something usually given to other prisoners after a few months.

He notes poignantly:

> To speak to none, to discuss with none, and to keep on looking at my naked body—so shabby, so dust-covered, so sweated by the work on the oil-mill, a work that I had to do for the best part of the day. The body used to be full of perspiration; the dust thrown up by the turning wheel of the mill, as it crushed and ground down the pieces of dry coconut fruit for oil, with other dust mixed up in it, had clung to it all over—this was the experience from which the mind revolted with disgust.

> It went on like this from hour to hour, from day to day, and who knows, it might continue from month to month and lengthen out into years. I began to hate myself.

Reference: My Transportation for Life, p. 103

The separation from his family caused deep mental suffering. He was allowed to send only one censored letter per year. He remained separated from his wife, Yamuna, for nearly ten years. He was also not allowed to meet his brother, Babarao, even though they were in the same prison. When they finally managed to see each other or exchange secret notes, his brother’s weak and sick condition deeply disturbed him.

He had to wear an iron badge marked “1960”, the year of his expected release, reminding him he might spend 50 years in prison.

The harsh environment pushed him to the edge of suicide multiple times. In moments of extreme exhaustion and despair, he would look at the cell windows where others had hanged themselves. He described entering a “null state”, where nothing mattered and death felt like relief. He was also deeply affected by other prisoners’ suffering, such as Indu Bhushan Roy, who took his own life, and Ullaskar Dutt, who lost his sanity after severe punishment.

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Prison Food

The food given to prisoners in the Andaman Cellular Jail was poor in quality, insufficient in quantity, and often mishandled by staff.

The cooks were usually unhygienic and sometimes ill. While preparing food, their sweat and saliva often fell into it, making it unsafe and unpleasant.

Vegetables were taken from the nearby jungle and carelessly chopped and boiled. Prisoners often found insects like centipedes and even small snakes in their curry.

Drinking water was dirty, foul-smelling, and sometimes mixed with salty sea water. Many prisoners had to hold their noses just to drink it.

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Health & Medical Neglect

Savarkar’s health deteriorated severely during his imprisonment in the Andaman Cellular Jail. He suffered from chronic illnesses, while the prison authorities provided little to no proper medical care.

Between 1915 and 1916, the effects of hard labor, poor food, and the harsh climate caused his health to collapse. He developed several serious health problems:

Chronic dysentery: He suffered constant stomach pain and bloody diarrhea. The poor-quality food was hard to digest, so he sometimes had to soak his rice in water just to eat it.

Malaria and fever: He had repeated attacks of malaria and a persistent fever (100–102°F).

Extreme weakness: By his eighth year in prison, his condition had worsened greatly. He often fainted, and experienced delirium and hallucinations.

His weight dropped from 111 lbs to around 95–98 lbs, leaving him extremely thin and weak.

By 1919, his condition had become so serious that doctors suspected he had tuberculosis, a common and often deadly disease in the Cellular Jail.

The doctor too was petrified of Barrie and seldom reported the truth about a prisoner’s condition. Serious illnesses of prisoners were concealed, despite the doctor knowing about them. To avoid the back-breaking work, many prisoners went to the extent of infecting themselves with other ailments and diseases. As Savarkar notes:

> ‘Give me medicine for fever and diarrhoea!’ When any prisoner asked this favour of another in a suppressed voice and with a dejected mind, it did not imply that he demanded a mixture to drive out these maladies, but to induce them into him. A man, it was reported, gets high fever if he swallows the paste of Kanheri roots; another told me that the easiest way to get loose continuous motions, with blood in them, was to drink the paste of red berries called Gunja. If a thread soaked in some liquid—I forgot which—were sewn into a wound, another said, the wound remained raw and open for six months on end.

> This was the talk of the prison. And if I questioned the authenticity of these reports, they told me that the medicines were tried and found effective for these purposes. Prisoners, put on the oil-mill or sent out to cut down the jungles or detailed to pick oakum and weave the threads into a coil of rope, were so much done up with the work and felt such a terror for it, that they preferred anything else to going on with it. Hence, they would resort to these dangerous shrubs, roots, and berries or would make a wound to their feet with the scythe they carried, to fall ill and come back into the hospital.

> They would sew a thread into that wound to keep it from healing. They would prick their throats with a needle to convince the physician in charge that the blood had come out with their spit and from their chest. Any of these tricks they employed for purposes of escape from the toil under which they were being ground down in their prison life. Others feigned madness, and, to prove that they were really mad, would besmear their faces with urine and excreta, and occasionally ate them also.

Reference: My Transportation for Life, p. 149

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The condition of the Cellular Jail inmates also found its echo in Madame Cama’s newspaper Bande Mataram:

> In jail there are various kinds of work to do, the most difficult being the oil-mill, whether by hand or by foot. The latter means that four men are tied to the mill and have to go round and round a centre post just as bullocks do. They have to press out 30 lb. of oil during the day… in the oil-mill work by hand you have to turn a handle round and round during the whole day, and thus press out about 30 lb. of oil…

> Chopping cocoanut bark is another species of work… Ropemaking is the lightest work one gets in jail… the regulation about punishment for short work is handcuffs for seven days for the first offence; for the second offence a week’s handcuffs and four days’ ganji. For the next offence, the punishment was fetters for a month or two, then cross-bar for ten days, and for further repetition of the offence—fetters for six months or so and solitary confinement…

> The work outside jail is still more dreadful. Among such work may be mentioned felling large trees and piling them up in a large heap; running about with heavy lumps of clay and handing them to workmen; laying 1200 bricks in the day or hoeing a plot of tea-land 40 yards by 4 yards in area; and all this one has to do in all sorts of weather…

> The Indian Jail Code, it should be noted, recognizes no class of prisoners as first-class misdemeanants… Indu Bhushan Roy, one of the political prisoners in the Alipore Case, undergoing his sentence of transportation in the penal settlement in the Andaman Islands, has committed suicide.

Reference: EPP 2/11, Bande Mataram , July 1912, British Library, London.

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Beacon of Inspiration

A large group of political prisoners arrived at the Andaman Cellular Jail around 1915, after the Lahore Conspiracy Case.

These prisoners were mainly Punjabi and Sikh revolutionaries linked to the Gadar Party, who had returned from abroad to start an armed revolt in India. Among them was Bhai Parmanand, a historian and Arya Samaj member whose death sentence had been reduced to life imprisonment by Viceroy Lord Hardinge.

> Though I knew only Professor Permanand among them, most of them knew me. They had read my contributions to the press; they had studied my books. Their reverence for me made them eager to see me as soon as they had stepped into the prison…

They told Savarkar that his book, The Indian War of Independence of 1857, had been translated into Hindi, Punjabi, and Urdu by the Gadar Party in America. It was being widely read as a revolutionary handbook.

> They told me that newspaper 'Gadar' in America had published translations in Hindi, Urdu and Punjabi, of my book on the Indian Mutiny of 1857. One of the prominent leaders of the 'Gadar Movement' in America, Pandit Jagatram… told me, "I was once an easy-going man; one who loved pleasure and knew nothing else of importance in life. I did not dabble at all in politics. But one day, I happened to get your book on Indian Mutiny to read. I sat out for one whole day and one whole night and finished the book. I set it aside, and, with it, I also set aside my former mode of life. I took an oath that I will work for the freedom of my country, and here I am today with you."

Hearing this deeply moved him. Some of these revolutionaries said this had inspired them and made them feel guilty about not contributing to the Freedom Struggle while one of them was suffering, yoked as a beast to an oil mill.

> Referring to the Kolu, I am reminded of a story of its publicity in America. Its publicity had induced some of the brave Sikhs, who had now come here as prisoners, to join our movement in America. They told me, "A cartoon, showing you yoked to the oil-mill, was published in one of our papers in America. I got the newspaper from a newsboy hawking it about in the streets of America. As we saw the cartoon, we were deeply pained by the sight and were full of tears. While men like you, we felt, were sacrificing their all for their country, we were wasting our lives in spending lavishly on drink and enjoying ourselves. And the thought made us ashamed of ourselves."

> This revulsion of feeling made them take life seriously, join our movement, forego their wealth and suffer as others had suffered for the independence of India. They left America, came back to India and joined in conspiracies for the overthrow of the British Raj. And here they were now in the prison of the Andamans along with us, and sentenced like us to serve long terms of imprisonment across the seas.

This gave Savarkar a sense of purpose. He felt that his suffering had not been in vain, and that it had helped inspire others to continue the struggle.

> For whenever I turned the Kolu in the solitude of my room and was done up by the exertion, I always used to console myself by the thought that I would bear it all, if the knowledge of it to the world outside were only to pour oil into the flames of discontent that I knew were spreading all over the country.

> But I was in despair about it. For how was the story of my hardships to reach the ears of those who were so far away from me?

> …But when my Sikh friend told me the story, I said to myself, Yes, I must bear it all, for it is never lost, it produces its effects in due time. That is the only way that one can put fat in the fire and make it burn. An agitation succeeds finally on the strength of tenacity and patience of its sufferers.

> Here was the proof of it. Every drop of oil that fell into the vat below, as I turned the wheel that ground down and crushed the dried coconut-kernels in the rut and the well, was a spark that had kept blazing the sacred fire of discontent already aflame all over the country.

—SwatantryaVeer Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, in My Transportation for Life, p. 252.

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> 'Give me medicine for fever and diarrhoea!’ When any prisoner asked this favour of another in a suppressed voice and with a dejected mind, it did not imply that he demanded a mixture to drive out these maladies, but to induce them into him. A man, it was reported, gets high fever if he swallows the paste of Kanheri roots; another told me that the easiest way to get loose continuous motions, with blood in them, was to drink the paste of red berries called Gunja. If a thread soaked in some liquid—I forgot which—were sewn into a wound, another said, the wound remained raw and open for six months on end.

> This was the talk of the prison. And if I questioned the authenticity of these reports, they told me that the medicines were tried and found effective for these purposes. Prisoners, put on the oil-mill or sent out to cut down the jungles or detailed to pick oakum and weave the threads into a coil of rope, were so much done up with the work and felt such a terror for it, that they preferred anything else to going on with it. Hence, they would resort to these dangerous shrubs, roots, and berries or would make a wound to their feet with the scythe they carried, to fall ill and come back into the hospital.

> They would sew a thread into that wound to keep it from healing. They would prick their throats with a needle to convince the physician in charge that the blood had come out with their spit and from their chest. Any of these tricks they employed for purposes of escape from the toil under which they were being ground down in their prison life. Others feigned madness, and, to prove that they were really mad, would besmear their faces with urine and excreta, and occasionally ate them also.

Reference: V.D. Savarkar. My Transportation for Life, p. 149

Sir Reginald H. Craddock, Home Member of the Government of India, personally interviewed Savarkar at the Cellular Jail on 16 November 1913. In the report he wrote after visiting the Andamans, Craddock noted that, through his petition for mercy, Savarkar “cannot be said to express any regret or repentance” for his actions, but rather that he only affected to have changed his views due to the current political circumstances.

Craddock strongly opposed giving Savarkar any freedom, arguing that it was:

> quite impossible to give him any liberty here, and 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.

Primary Source: Home Department, Pol A. Feb 1915, No. 68–160.

Secondary Source: R.C. Majumdar, Penal Settlement in the Andamans, pp. 202–05, 221–22.

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Abhinav Bharat was one of the earliest and most influential secret revolutionary societies of India's freedom struggle. Founded by Vinayak Damodar Savarkar and his associates in 1904, it aimed to achieve complete independence through armed revolution.

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Vande Mataram (Salutations to the Mother!)

In the name of God, In the name of Bharat Mata, In the name of all the martyrs who have shed their blood for Bharat Mata,

By the love innate in all men and women that I bear for the land of my birth, Wherein lie the sacred ashes of my forefathers, and which is the cradle of my children;

By the tears of the countless mothers whose children the foreigner has enslaved, imprisoned, tortured, and killed,

I…Convinced that without absolute political independence, or Swarajya, my country can never rise to the exalted position among the nations of the earth which is her due, And convinced also that such Swarajya can never be attained except by waging a bloody and relentless war against the foreigner,

Solemnly and sincerely swear that, from this moment, I shall do everything in my power to fight for independence and place the lotus crown of Swaraj on the head of my Mother;

And with this object, I join Abhinav Bharat, the Revolutionary Society of all Hindustan, and swear that I shall ever remain true and faithful to this, my solemn oath, and that I shall obey the orders of this organization;

If I betray the whole or any part of this solemn oath, or if I betray this organization or any other working with a similar objective, May I be doomed to the fate of a perjurer!

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Primary Reference: EPP 1/46, “Card with portrait and text of Oath of Abhinava Bharat,” India Office Records (British Library, London).

Secondary Reference: Vikram Sampath, Savarkar: Echoes from a Forgotten Past, p. 103.

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Abhinav Bharat was one of the earliest and most influential secret revolutionary societies of India's freedom struggle. Founded by Vinayak Damodar Savarkar and his associates in 1904, it aimed to achieve complete independence through armed revolution.

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Vande Mataram (Salutations to the Mother!)

In the name of God, In the name of Bharat Mata, In the name of all the martyrs who have shed their blood for Bharat Mata,

By the love innate in all men and women that I bear for the land of my birth, Wherein lie the sacred ashes of my forefathers, and which is the cradle of my children;

By the tears of the countless mothers whose children the foreigner has enslaved, imprisoned, tortured, and killed,

I…Convinced that without absolute political independence, or Swarajya, my country can never rise to the exalted position among the nations of the earth which is her due, And convinced also that such Swarajya can never be attained except by waging a bloody and relentless war against the foreigner,

Solemnly and sincerely swear that, from this moment, I shall do everything in my power to fight for independence and place the lotus crown of Swaraj on the head of my Mother;

And with this object, I join Abhinav Bharat, the Revolutionary Society of all Hindustan, and swear that I shall ever remain true and faithful to this, my solemn oath, and that I shall obey the orders of this organization;

If I betray the whole or any part of this solemn oath, or if I betray this organization or any other working with a similar objective, May I be doomed to the fate of a perjurer!

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Primary Reference: EPP 1/46, “Card with portrait and text of Oath of Abhinava Bharat,” India Office Records (British Library, London).

Secondary Reference: Vikram Sampath, Savarkar: Echoes from a Forgotten Past, p. 103.

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After the construction of the Patit Pavan Temple, Savarkar organised numerous inter-caste social events there. Since the temple was owned by Bhagoji Keer, there were no legal obstacles to holding such gatherings.

Savarkar wanted Dr. B. R. Ambedkar to preside over one such event. Ambedkar was unable to attend because of prior commitments, but sent Savarkar his apologies along with a message expressing his appreciation for Savarkar’s social-reform work:

> I take this opportunity of conveying to you my appreciation of the work you are doing in the field of social reform… If the untouchables are to be a part and parcel of the Hindu society, then it is not enough to remove untouchability; for that matter you must destroy chaturvarnya… I am glad that you are among the very few who have realized this. That you still use the jargon of Chaturvarnya although you qualify it by basing it on merit is rather unfortunate. However, I hope that in course of time you will have courage enough to drop this needless and mischievous jargon.

Reference: Dhananjay Keer, Veer Savarkar, p. 190.

Ambedkar therefore acknowledged Savarkar’s work in the field of social reform while disagreeing with Savarkar’s continued use of the concept of Chaturvarnya. Savarkar was using Hindu scriptures to argue that Chaturvarnya should be understood as being based on merit rather than birth and used this argument to persuade orthodox Hindus to reject the birth-based caste system. Ambedkar argued that merely making Chaturvarnya merit-based was insufficient and hoped that Savarkar would abandon the concept altogether.

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A few years later, on 13 November 1935, Savarkar again invited Ambedkar to visit Ratnagiri. In his letter, Savarkar described the social reforms that had been undertaken there and invited Ambedkar to see the results for himself:

> You say that you do not need mere sympathy but show me something concrete that you can achieve. Your demand is perfectly justifiable and understandable. For the last five to six years, I have been asking my followers for specific programmes of action. We have managed to break the shackles of the caste system in Ratnagiri and also in Malvan. What succeeds in one place can also succeed elsewhere because human beings and the pattern of their behavior are same all over. Come and see for yourself what we have achieved.

> One of the major obstacles to breaking the barriers of the caste system is the barrier to inter-caste dining. One who breaks the taboo of inter-caste barrier also breaks the shackles of untouchability. What remains is the barrier of inter-caste marriages. But this is up to individual brides and bridegrooms. As long as inter-caste marriages are acceptable and not regarded as anti-religion or such couples are not treated as outcastes, then it would be the end of that matter. I propose the following:

> 1. Please come to Ratnagiri after a fortnight, and give me, if you can, one week’s notice.

> 2. We propose to arrange a huge inter-caste dining ceremony of about one thousand people that includes Brahmins, Marathas, Vaishyas, Shimpis, Kulavadis, as well as Mahars, Chamars, and Bhangis. People will include all layers of society from well-respected citizens to workers and cleaners. Such ceremonies are not new. In the past, untouchable leaders such as Shri Rajbhoj and Shri Patitpavan Das have witnessed such inter-caste dinings.

> 3. If you like, we can also arrange an inter-caste dining of ladies. They would include old and young and ladies from well-to-do families to working women. They would also be from all castes—Brahmins, Khatris, Vaishyas, as well as Mahars, Chamars and Bhangis.

> 4. It is a condition that names of everyone who takes food in such functions would be published in newspapers. Only those who accept this condition will take part.

> 5. It is the usual practice that religious discourse is delivered by a preacher from one of the castes regarded as very low. You will observe that at the end of the session, the attendees, irrespective of their castes, would bow to that preacher. Recently, Mr. Kajrolkar was honoured in this manner.

> 6. If you agree, we would like to arrange a lecture by you.

> 7. Our functions will take place at the Patit Pavan Mandir, which is owned by Seth Bhagoji Keer. There is therefore no legal obstruction whatsoever. Only those who are prepared to participate in inter-caste dining will attend.

> 8. One important point. So far we organized about 150 inter-caste dinings. The names of the participants have been regularly made public. And yet, no one has been treated as outcaste by his or her people. It has become a matter of personal choice. You will notice the evidence of this change in peoples’ attitudes.

> We are not saying that by what we have done, we have solved the national problem. But it is a good indication of what can be achieved. We have shown that even the tradition of six thousand years can be broken, as we have done, within six years. And our success in Ratnagiri and Malvan can be repeated elsewhere. You can be sure of that. And it is for this reason, that we are inviting you to Ratnagiri.

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In the same letter, Savarkar also drew Ambedkar’s attention to the divisions among untouchables themselves, arguing that these divisions also had to be completely overcome if the caste system was to be dismantled. He wrote:

> The responsibility for abolishing untouchability and the division created by the caste system lies not only on the shoulders of the high castes. Untouchability and caste division is strongly observed by untouchables too. From the highest (Brahmins) to the lowest (Bhangis) all have committed the same sin. Both must show that they have changed their minds. Both together must absolve this sin. Fault lies with both, question is of degree.

> One can say that the rigours of the caste system have been broken only if it can be proven that Mahars share food with Brahmins and Marathas but Mahars also share food with Bhangis. I am sure you too have experienced that Mahars are not free from caste prejudice and cannot therefore demand proof of changed mentality only from high castes.

Reference: V. D. Savarkar, Savarkar Samagra, pp. 575–77.

For reasons best known to him, Ambedkar could not oblige this request either, although he held Savarkar’s social-reform work in high esteem.

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Savarkar and Ambedkar continued to have both agreements and disagreements.

For example, in 1927, Savarkar supported Ambedkar’s Mahad Satyagraha

Dhananjay Keer writes in Savarkar’s biography Savarkar and His Times:

> At that time he had said that untouchability should not only be condemned, but now the time has come to root it out as a mandate of religion. It is not a question of policy or propriety, but issues of justice and service to humanity are also involved.

Savarkar and Ambedkar also found common ground in their concerns about Pan-Islamism and the disproportionately high representation of Muslims in the British Indian Army, issues that Ambedkar discussed in his book Pakistan or Partition of India.

In July 1941, following the announcement of the new Executive Council without a representative from the Depressed Classes, Savarkar wired Viceroy Lord Linlithgow in support of Ambedkar, stating that “the British Government could find no more capable a gentleman to fill that post than Dr. Ambedkar himself.”

Savarkar also highly praised Ambedkar on his 50th birthday

Even after independence, Savarkar continued to praise Ambedkar and referred to him as Maharashtra Kulbhushan while discussing the constitutional abolition of untouchability, Savarkar wrote:

> When it was revealed that slavery would be abolished in America, millions of Americans took up arms against the government. After the Civil War, the abolition of slavery was imposed as a condition of surrender. The declaration of abolition of untouchability has not been forced on us; no one has been persuaded to do so as a condition of refuge. It is self-motivated atonement by Hindus for the well-being of the nation.

> The Constituent Assembly had representatives of all the provinces and of all the castes, and the bill received support from all over the country. On top of that, ‘Manu’ of this new Smriti (code) was a Mahar, ‘Maharashtra Kulbhushan’ Dr. Ambedkar. This is a unique capacity for the reforms inherent in the Hindu race.

Reference: Balarao Savarkar, Swatantryaveer Savarkar Sangata Parv, p. 165.

However, Savarkar and Ambedkar disagreed on whether conversion could solve the caste problem. Savarkar believed that mass conversion from one religion to another would create social tensions and further divide Indian society.

For further reading, see: https://rediscoveringsavarkar.wordpress.com/2026/02/12/savarkar-and-ambedkar-the-question-of-caste/

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This is Part 10, and the final part, of the series on Savarkar’s Social Reform Movement in Ratnagiri.

The previous parts are:

Part I: Bringing ‘Untouchables’ into Public Life

Part II: Campaign Against Caste Discrimination in Schools

Part III: Promoting Inter-Caste Social Integration

Part IV: Breaking the Caste Monopoly Over the Janeu

Part V: Support to Ambedkar's Mahad Satyagraha

Part VI: Temple Entry at the Vitthal Mandir

Part VII: Inter-Caste Dining

Part VIII: Social Boycott of Caste Reformers

Part IX: The Results of the Social Reform Movement

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This final post is intended to share Savarkar’s views on social reform and explain why he considered it as important as political reform.

For Savarkar, eliminating social evils was as important as achieving political freedom for India. He made this point in several of his writings and speeches.

Three of them are quoted below:

> Though I said it a hundred times before, I say it again so that no one should have any doubts about the reality that for the progress of the Hindu nation, we need both political and social reforms. Consider politics as a sword and social reforms as a shield. Both are complementary to each other. One is ineffective without the other.

Primary reference: Speech in village Shirode in 1937. Balarao Savarkar, Ratnagiri Parva, p. 372.

> Some may feel that social reforms are much less important than gaining of political power. But they are closely related to each other. It is therefore essential to pay attention to social reforms too. It is no good assuming that social reforms will take place with the passage of time. Sometimes that may appear to be the case. However, those changes took place because someone in the past made efforts for them. Therefore, we must make persistent efforts for the changes that we wish to see in future.

Primary reference: Speech at a sahabhojan organized on 1 July 1937. Balarao Savarkar, Hindu Mahasabha Parva, Bombay: Veer Savarkar Prakashan, 1972, p. 31.

> The abolition of the caste system is far more important than the mere thinking of political movements. It is true that many social reforms cannot be pursued with vigour without political independence, but a start has to be made for those social reforms, which would enable us to sustain our freedom after independence.

Primary reference: Writing in 1936. See V.D. Savarkar, Savarkar Samagra, Vol. 4, p. 638

Secondary reference for all three quotes: Vikram Sampath, Savarkar: A Contested Legacy, pp. 91–92.

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Part I: Bringing ‘Untouchables’ into Public Life

Part II: Campaign Against Caste Discrimination in Schools

Part III: Promoting Inter-Caste Social Integration

Part IV: Breaking the Caste Monopoly Over the Janeu

Part V: Support to Ambedkar's Mahad Satyagraha

Part VI: Temple Entry at the Vitthal Mandir

Part VII: Inter-Caste Dining

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Savarkar, on the third day of the inauguration of the Patit Pavan Mandir, organized inter-dining in the temple complex. He preached on this occasion:

> Eat with anybody. Eat anything that is medically fit and clean. That does not deprive you of your religion. Remember, the root of religion is not the dish or the stomach, but the heart, soul and the blood!

But interestingly, several of his closest associates and supporters, including the Shankaracharya, Dr. Kurtkoti, religious figures such as Masurkar Maharaj, Pachalegaonkar Maharaj, Chowde Maharaj and even Sheth Bhagoji Keer, who bore the expenses of the temple, refused to join.

Savarkar was a liberal who was extremely accommodative of differing opinions and never forced his ideas over others. When he heard about their reservations on the inter-dining plan, he said:

> I respect the wishes of those who do not wish to join in. They can have their dinners separately according to the tradition. I do not insist that they must join in. However, those who wish to eat together should also be free to do so.

He held the same view all along: that any societal change must come from within the society and with a genuine change of heart. Forcing people to do something against their wishes creates ill will and ruptures in society.

Even in an article of December 1936, he said:

> We want to abolish the caste system and propagate dining together. But, we do not insist that everyone must take part in such communal dinners. Those who do not want to join in must not regard others as sinners or behaving unethically. That is all!

His inter-dining project was truly pushing the envelope a bit too much in its initial days, especially in a caste-ridden, orthodox society. Conservatives were livid and made declarations that if the Peshwas had been around, Savarkar would have been trampled under the foot of an elephant as a punishment for such blasphemy.

To these barbs hurled against him, Savarkar wrote:

> We, the reformers, have realized that unless we eradicate the division by castes, the Hindu society cannot make progress. We do not feel that by propagating our views on the subject we are hurting religious feelings of anyone. We say to our opponents, if you feel that our opinions are wrong, you put forward your arguments. We do not object to that. On the contrary, we say that, just as the reformers have the right to propose social reforms, the society, reluctant to reform, also has the right to boycott the reformers.

In an article, Savarkar mentions how his crusade for social reforms led to his boycott. Even those who deeply revered him for his revolutionary work and patriotism were uncomfortable on sensitive issues such as inter-dining.

He narrates in the article how many of these people would invite Savarkar to their family celebrations and marriage parties. Out of immense respect for him, they would have a special seat with decoration and dishes served in silver vessels and so on. But Savarkar would approach the host and tell them candidly:

> Listen, I do not want to cause any embarrassment to you. It is well known that I propagate and do take part in dining with the Mahars. It is not right that my eating at your place should lead to spoiling the atmosphere at your festivities, as many of your guests may not like to dine with me. So, I suggest a compromise. In accordance with the tradition, you would provide dinner to the Mahars and other untouchables outside the compound. I would also sit in their company. Then there would be no ill feeling of any kind.

This statement would baffle and also melt the hearts of even his opponents. They would then insist on him joining the main party.

Extending this idea of inter-caste dining, on 1 May 1933, Savarkar got an All-Hindu cafe (Akhil Hindu Upaharagruha) opened in Ratnagiri. He writes about the need for such a cafe:

> When I first came to Ratnagiri in 1924, the restaurant owners would serve tea to untouchables only by pouring into their own cups or coconut shells from a distance. However, Muslims were welcome and allowed to sit inside and were served tea normally.

> We therefore established a restaurant that would be open to ALL Hindus. In this place, it was the usual practice to publish names of those who take food, tea and snacks. Despite this publicity, Hindus of ALL castes openly used this restaurant for their regular meals. No one was made outcast for eating in this place. This happened on 1 May 1933. It must be emphasized that tea and food were served by untouchables. Once again, we have to remember that such a café was unique in the whole of India at that time. It was not possible to run such a café even in urbanized Mumbai.

It was not as if those who dined at the cafe were openly accepted in society. N.C. Kelkar drank tea in this cafe on 15 May 1933, for which he was severely criticized by orthodox Hindus. Savarkar’s biographer Dhananjay Keer too faced social ostracism for drinking tea at this cafe.

Almost always, the cafe ran on losses and Savarkar made up the deficit from his own pocket, despite the paltry income that he got. In March 1934, when Savarkar went to Khed to deliver a lecture on the need to break the caste barriers, followed by a public reception, attendees refused to drink water with him!

But Savarkar was never miffed with people, including his supporters, who differed with him, especially on touchy matters such as inter-dining. In a December 1936 article, he writes:

> Among the people who boycott our programmes for dining together, there are many conservatives who sincerely believe that it is a sin to dine together with people of all castes. They naturally feel hurt by such reforms. They do not want to keep any contact with the reformers. That is but natural, due to centuries of social conditioning. We should not be angry with them. We must never ever hate them. We should gladly suffer their boycott and persecution till they voluntarily change their minds, as long as they adopt legal and peaceful means of protesting against us.

> We must disregard their opposition and simply carry on with our reforms. We require dynamism and movement for the good of the society. But we also require stability and restraint to some extent. A train needs an engine as a driving force. But it also needs brakes. Our Hindu society has shown remarkable capacity for both survival and revival under enormous threats from outside.

> There is a danger that the reformers may get carried away. They therefore need a control, some exercise of restraint. To what extent and proportion are they necessary is a matter of judgment. We need to understand that reforms and restraints are complementary. It is therefore vital that we try to convince the conservatives of our point of view, try to persuade them and try to convert them. That is essential for the nation’s good.

After the initiation of inter-dining in 1930, Savarkar used numerous occasions—be they family ceremonies or religious festivals—to propagate and popularize the concept. At times he would even put this as a precondition for his participation in events or staging of his plays.

In March 1936, when the renowned Marathi theatre artist Bal Gandharva, a great admirer of Savarkar, insisted that he attend a play, Savarkar agreed to come if an inter-dining was organized after the staging. Bal Gandharva readily agreed and the play was followed by sahabhojan.

That same year, during Ganeshotsav on 26–27 August, inter-dining was organized, in which Prabodhankar, the father of Shiv Sena founder Bal Saheb Thackeray, too participated.

On 11 September 1935, a Bhangi woman came to the Patit Pavan temple, sat in the company of upper-caste women and was served food. This news was published in several newspapers along with the names of the participants, but no one seemed to bother much about their names being made public.

Despite this eventual success, among all his reform movements, the inter-dining seemed to face the maximum resistance from society. It was difficult to hire halls for conducting the dinners or even get a cook. Conservative Hindus began treating those who participated in Savarkar’s inter-dining programmes as outcastes. They refused to marry into the households of such people and boycotted them socially.

Even if a person who participated in inter-dining was of their own caste, he/she was refused entry into houses or disallowed from drawing water from the other’s wells. Priests refused to officiate in marriages or sacred thread ceremonies of inter-dining participants.

One can imagine the amount of mental trauma that anybody participating in such activities faced on a daily basis. Many of them could not take it any more and rushed back to their religious heads to purify themselves and eschew the idea.

But none of this deterred Savarkar. He was resolute in his mission. The perseverance paid off. In due course, the movement spread all over Maharashtra and other parts of India too—Poona, Bombay, Vasai, Sangli, Kalyan, Kolhapur, Karhad, Savantvadi, Amravati, Shahabad, Indore, Karachi and Rajputana.

Many eminent people lent their names and support to his mission. They included Keshavrao Jedhe, Parsi leader K.F. Nariman, theatre superstar Bal Gandharva, the maharaja of Aundh State, social reformer Maharshi Annasaheb Karve (or Dhondo Keshav Karve), novelist V.S. Khandekar, social worker and Congressman ‘Kakasaheb’ Narhar Vishnu Gadgil, writer, educationist, orator and poet ‘Acharya’ Prahlad Keshav Atre and others.

The inclusion of such ‘celebrities’ normalized inter-dining and the fierce opposition that it faced in its initial years, gradually seemed to taper down.

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Reference: Vikram Sampath, Savarkar: A Contested Legacy, Chapter 2, “Caste in Stone,” pp. 85–89.

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This is Part 7 of a series on Savarkar’s social reform campaign in Ratnagiri. The previous six parts are:

Part I: Bringing ‘Untouchables’ into Public Life

Part II: Campaign Against Caste Discrimination in Schools

Part III: Promoting Inter-Caste Social Integration

Part IV: Breaking the Caste Monopoly Over the Janeu

Part V: Support to Ambedkar's Mahad Satyagraha

Part VI: Temple Entry at the Vitthal Mandir

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Another major initiative that Savarkar undertook was the initiation of inter-caste dining or sahabhojan. At the time when he began this movement, people of a caste who belonged to different sub-castes within that same caste also refused to eat together.

For instance, despite being Brahmins, the Deshasthas and Chitpawans would not dine together. Mahars refused to eat with the Bhangis, and the Bhangis in turn with the Dhors. Unlike the usual practice to blame the Brahmins or upper castes alone for the scourge of untouchability, Savarkar understood that the malaise ran deep.

Time and time again, Savarkar emphasized this aspect of the highs and lows even among the so-called lower castes and untouchables in his speeches and writings and the imperative to get rid of all these divisions within Hindu society equally. A Mahar priest would never officiate a Bhangi wedding or a Mahar would never accept tea or water from a Dhor, Chamar, Maang, Matang or Bhangi who were considered lower in caste status than him.

Once, during a public speech on 28 March 1934, a Mahar brought a cup of tea to Savarkar with the intention to test him and was flummoxed when the latter readily drank it.

He told the Mahar: ‘You put me to test, right? Now will you accept the same tea served by this Maang or Matang here? Please don’t make such a show again. Untouchability is not being observed by Brahmins alone. Untouchables do the same. We are all equally guilty of this offence.'

Writing further on these deep-rooted divisions among castes in the Kirloskar Magazine, January–February 1935 issue, Savarkar postulated:

> But it is not just the high castes who persecute untouchables. Persons of one group of untouchables persecute persons of another group of untouchables whom they consider as their inferior or as ‘their untouchables’ with just the same vigour. Consider a hot summer’s day.

> A Mahar is thirsty, on a village well there are crows and dogs drinking water, but he is forbidden to drink water from that well. He becomes furious and curses the Brahmins and Marathas who will hound him out. When he says they are demons, he does tell the truth. But if a Bhangi was to take water from a well in a Maharwada, the Mahars would also hound the Bhangi with equal wrath. Then the Mahars become Brahmins to that Bhangi.

> Recently, there was a Satyagraha by Mahars who wanted to enter the Rama Mandir of Nasik. They were badly beaten up by Brahmins and Vaishyas. True, that was terribly unjust. But it should not be forgotten that if a Bhangi were to enter a Mariaii temple of the Mahars, they too would have thrashed that Bhangi just as badly.

In such a deeply fractured social order, expecting people to sit down and share their meals with untouchables was both unimaginable and considered blasphemous. There were reports of how even Mahar beggars would rather die of hunger than accept food served at Savarkar’s inter-caste dining, only because castes lower than them were also part of the congregation.

But Savarkar, with his perseverance, slowly managed to convince people. The first such inter-dining programme took place in 1930. About this event, the Times of India, dated 9 December 1930, wrote:

> This all-caste dinner was organized in a unique manner—a manner that has given deep offence to Nationalist Congressmen, who are mostly believers along with Mr. Gandhi in four watertight castes by birth. For, at Ratnagiri, some enthusiastic reformers, who regarded caste system as the bane of Hinduism, held an all-caste dinner, which was attended by Brahmins, Banias, Chambhars, Mahars and Bhangis…

> what is still more interesting, the spirit of this splendid essay in practical reform, Mr. V.D. Savarkar, delivered a speech in which he flung into the teeth of orthodoxy… “From today, I shall not believe in highness or lowness of caste. I shall not oppose the intermarriage between the highest and lowest castes. I shall eat with any Hindu irrespective of caste. I shall not believe in caste by birth or by profession and henceforth, I shall call myself a Hindu only—not Brahmin, Vaishya, etc.”

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Reference: Vikram Sampath, Savarkar: A Contested Legacy, Chapter 2, “Caste in Stone,” pp. 84–85.

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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (5/5)

Definitely one of the most engrossing books I’ve read in months. I completed it within a week.

Vikram Sampath’s Waiting for Shiva explores the history of Varanasi, the Vishwanath Temple, and the legal dispute surrounding the Gyanvapi complex.

The book begins by examining the importance of the ancient city in Hindu mythology, drawing upon Hindu scriptures to explain why Kashi holds such profound significance for Hindus. Sampath combines and shows the mythological foundations of Kashi’s prominence with an account of its historical significance.

The book then moves into the medieval history of Varanasi, discussing how the Vishwanath Temple was desecrated on multiple occasions, and no, not only during Aurangzeb’s reign, but both before and after it as well. It also recounts how the temple was reconstructed during Akbar’s reign by Todar Mal and Narayana Bhatta before Aurangzeb had it destroyed.

The narrative subsequently moves into the colonial history of Varanasi and the origins of the legal dispute surrounding the Gyanvapi complex in British courts. Before delving into the legal proceedings however, Sampath takes a detour to explain the meaning and significance of Shiva Linga worship, once again drawing extensively upon Hindu scriptures.

The section dealing with the Gyanvapi litigation is especially compelling. It must have involved extensive examination of the legal documents and records associated with the case, and Sampath presents the complex and often convoluted history of the proceedings in such an accessible manner!! It is difficult to find such a comprehensive account of the case presented in such a clear and digestible form elsewhere.

The book then brings the narrative up to the present, discussing the current stage of the dispute and the major developments that have unfolded over the past five years.

Overall, the book is quite concise, containing fewer than 200 pages of actual reading material. A substantial portion of the total page count consists of photographs of the temple and its surroundings, along with images documenting the findings of the ASI survey at the site. These illustrations, however, considerably enhance the book and provide useful visual context.

So, who should read this book?

A Shaivite Hindu can read it to learn more about the history of the city that their deity has regarded as His eternal abode. A history enthusiast can read it for its account of Varanasi’s past, while anyone interested in Indian politics or in understanding the factual and legal history surrounding the Gyanvapi dispute can also benefit from it.

Overall, it was an excellent reading experience, and I would definitely recommend it to anyone interested in Varanasi, the Vishwanath Temple, or the Gyanvapi dispute!!!!