Yesterday [17 January] I was informed by the Government of India that the Savarkar brothers were not included in those that are to be released . . . It is now clear that the Indian Government have decided not to release them. Please let me hear from you as to how to proceed in such circumstances. They have already undergone a rigorous sentence for more than ten years in the Andamans and their health is utterly shattered. Their weight has come down from 118 lbs. to 95–100. Though they are given a hospital diet at present, their health does not show any sign of improvement. At least a change to some Indian jail of better climate is the most essential for them. I have received a letter from one of them very recently (one month back) in which all this is mentioned. I hope that you will let me know what you mean to do in this matter. 1
One week later, on 25 January 1920, Gandhi replied and quite expectedly told him that he could do very little by way of assistance.
Dear Dr Savarkar, I have your letter. It is difficult to advise you. I suggest, however, your framing a brief petition setting forth facts of the case bringing out in clear relief the fact that the offence committed by your brother was purely political. I suggest this in order that it would be possible to concentrate public attention on the case. Meanwhile as I have said to you in an earlier letter I am moving in the matter in my own way. 2
However, several months later, on 26 May 1920, Gandhi wrote an article in Young India titled ‘Savarkar Brothers’ and built a case for their release by the government.
Thanks to the action of the Government of India and the Provincial Governments, many of those who were undergoing imprisonment at the time have received the benefit of the Royal clemency. But there are some notable ‘political offenders’ who have not yet been discharged. Among these I count Savarkar brothers. They are political offenders in the same sense as men, for instance, who have been discharged in the Punjab. And yet these two brothers have not received their liberty although five months have gone by after the publication of the Proclamation . . . It is clear . . . that all the offences charged against Mr Savarkar (senior) were of a public nature. He had done no violence. He was married, had two daughters who died, and his wife died about eighteen months ago . . . the other brother . . . is better known for his career in London . . . He was charged also in 1911 with abetment of murder. No act of violence was proved against him either.
Both these brothers have declared their political opinions and both have stated that they do not entertain any revolutionary ideas and that if they were set free they would like to work under the Reforms Act, for they consider that the reforms enable one to work thereunder so as to achieve political responsibility for India. They both state unequivocally that they do not desire independence from the British connection. On the contrary, they feel that India’s destiny can be best worked out in association with the British. Nobody has questioned their honour or their honesty, and in my opinion the published expression of their views ought to be taken at its face value . . .
Now the only reason for still further restricting the liberty of the two brothers can only be ‘danger to public safety,’ for, the viceroy has been charged by His Majesty to exercise Royal clemency to political offenders in the fullest manner which in his judgment is compatible with public safety. I hold therefore that unless there is absolute proof that the discharge of the two brothers who have already suffered long enough terms of imprisonment, who have lost considerably in body-weight and who have declared their political opinions, can be proved to be a danger to the State, the Viceroy is bound to give them their liberty. The obligation to discharge them, on the one condition of public safety being fulfilled, is in Viceroy’s political capacity just as imperative as it was for the Judges in their judicial capacity to impose on the two brothers the minimum penalty allowed by law. If they are to be kept under detention any longer, a full statement justifying it is due to the public . . .
This case is no better and no worse than that of Bhai Parmanand who, thanks to the Punjab Government, has after a long term of imprisonment received his discharge. Nor need his case be distinguished from that of Savarkar brothers in the sense that Bhai Parmanand pleaded absolute innocence . . . The public are entitled to know the precise grounds upon which the liberty of the brothers is being restrained in spite of the Royal Proclamation which to them is as good as a royal charter having the force of law. 3
Narayanrao was relentless in his efforts to secure the release of his brothers. Apart from the petitions that they were sending to the government from the Andamans, he sent one in 1918. Yesu Vahini and Yamuna had each sent one in 1915. All of them had been rejected. Undaunted by this, Narayanrao kept trying to mobilize public support as well as that of prominent citizens and members of the legislative councils to raise this issue at multiple forums.
On 12 July 1920, Vinayak and the chief commissioner of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands received the Government of India’s reply to Savarkar’s 20 March1920 petition: ‘His Excellency the Viceroy is not prepared at present to extend to them the benefit of the amnesty.’ 4 A pall of gloom fell upon the Savarkar household. Vinayak had been diffident about this, as revealed in the letters he wrote to Narayanrao. In the letters of 1918, 1919 and 1920 he repeatedly stressed a desire to move from the revolutionary to the constitutional path that the government had facilitated through its reforms. Given that all the letters were thoroughly scanned by the jail authorities for any objectionable content before they were posted, one is unsure if he truly spoke his mind or was self-censoring the content with an eye on his release. In his final letter to Narayanrao dated 6 July 1920, and a week before his petition was quashed, Vinayak had concluded with a somber note: ‘Please do not hope much from this petition [20 March 1920] so far as our release is concerned. We never pitched our hopes too high and if not released we shall not be very much disappointed. We are quite prepared to face it either way.’ 5
A dejected Narayanrao visited his brothers for a second time in November 1920. Reduced to bones, Vinayak was hardly recognizable. In a sullen voice, he told his brother: ‘Bal! Be prepared to hear the worst of us any day in the future. I don’t think we can pull on for a long time now. Do not forget, however, that even the unexpected sometimes happens. Who knows we may survive from this. But the chances are very remote for that. Take it that this is our last meeting together on this side of the world!’ 6
Through the efforts of Narayanrao, however, the issue of the Savarkar brothers’ release was brought up often in the legislatures. On 15 February 1921, legislator Mohammad Faiyaz Khan raised a question in the Bombay Legislative Assembly on the basis of the report on the tortures suffered by the brothers, published in the Leader of Allahabad on 2 December 1920. The report had stated that the Savarkar brothers were undergoing hard labour for the last eleven to twelve years now. Ganesh Damodar Savarkar was suffering from a constant fever and had lost a lot of weight. Though he was diagnosed with tuberculosis, there was no treatment and he was kept confined in his cell. Faiyaz Khan wished to know from the government if this was happening with its consent and what action they intended to take to stop the brutality and if they could get to meet their families.
In the reply on behalf of the Government of India, S.P. O’Donnell mentioned that the labour they were put to could hardly be construed as rigorous. They were allowed to sleep peacefully in their cells and work in the open daily. They were allowed to exercise in the corridor or in the yard during non-working hours. The elder brother, Ganesh, was under medical observation and it was noted that his temperature rose to 99 degrees every evening. But for this, he seemed fine. His body parameters too were perfect—the government recorded that he currently weighed 110 lbs as against 113 lbs on admission ten years ago. His illness could not be termed as tuberculosis; he only had a slight cough which was suggestive of congestion. However, as a precautionary measure, he was allowed to spend time on the veranda attached to the cells. Vinayak had done no labour harder than rope making and since 1915 both of them had only been given short
periods of separate confinement. Vinayak’s weight on admission was 111 lbs. and was now 106 lbs. Hence, everything seemed to be fine with him. A special order was issued for Vinayak on 1 April 1919: ‘To continue as a hospital patient for purposes of diet and treatment, but will live in end cell (i.e., a special cell with its own piece of veranda) in top corridor.’
O’Donnell added that since both brothers had been in the settlement for merely ten years, they could not be classified as self-supporters or allowed to bring their families there so long as they were not released from jail. The government at any rate considered it a dangerous proposition to release them, though their petitions to this effect were under consideration. 7 Many of the details that were read out contradicted the jail ticket history of the brothers maintained by the jail authorities.
In the Legislative Assembly, another legislator, Vithalbhai Patel, moved a resolution on 24 February 1920 recommending amnesty to the Savarkar brothers and other political prisoners. G.S. Khaparde and other members too had drawn the government’s attention to the matter. A year later, legislator Rangaswamy Ayyangar moved another resolution in the Council on 26 March 1921 regarding the signature campaign of over 50,000 people seeking amnesty for the Savarkar brothers. The resolution sought a recommendation from the House to the Governor General in Legislative Council to release the brothers. Providing a spirited defence, Ayyangar quoted from Vinayak’s petitions and letters where he claimed a change of his political thought and abstinence from violence in the wake of the reforms. Ayyangar said, ‘We can charge Savarkar with anything, but he is not the man who is a liar who will tell anything against his convictions even to buy life. Such is the present mentality of the man for whom I am pleading for the grant of amnesty.’ He drew from Vinayak’s letter dated 8 February 1920: ‘As circumstances change, do also change the ways and means of men. So let none—neither our friends nor our critics—disbelieve us when we declare that we pledge our word to make the new constitutional and constructive epoch a success, by all means in our power and to the best of our ability.’ Ayyangar argued that people directly connected with conspiracies and murders had been granted amnesty; those transported for life with forfeiture of property were now entrusted with ministerial portfolios. Yet the Savarkars continued to rot in the dungeons of Andaman. A spirited discussion followed on this issue in the Council with several members participating in the debate.
One Council member, C.N. Seddon, provided an opposing view to Ayyangar’s and read extracts of the judgment in their respective trials to prove how dangerous the two brothers were. He felt that the Council must leave this decision to the Government of India and more so to the Government of Bombay to do what it feels would be consistent with public safety. Sir William Vincent presented his case that a distinction needed to be made between the brothers and their role. He was in favour of no leniency shown to Vinayak given the grievous nature of his abetting the murder of a man, Jackson, who was loved by all. But he was willing to consult the Bombay government regarding Babarao. Since his conviction was sedition—which was a political crime—different from murder that Vinayak had been charged with, differential parameters could be applied. Another Council member, Colonel Sir Umar Hayat Khan, strongly opposed Ayyangar’s resolution. He hypothesized that if all murderers were to be released, they may as well do away with jails. He likened their release to the adding of petrol to the fire that was already raging across the country. Council member Nawab Sir Bahram Khan too opposed the resolution and opined that the decision must be left to the local government to pursue.
At this point, Ayyangar offered to give guarantees and furnish securities on Savarkar’s behalf to secure the amnesty. He referred to the ‘forget and forgive’ policy stated in the royal proclamation. Sir William Vincent intervened and said that the policy did not mean they empty jails and let every criminal out. Given the overwhelming opposition to the resolution, it was rejected in the Council and the ball was back in the Government of Bombay’s court to arbitrate on the matter. 8
Later that year, the Governor General mentioned that the Government of Bombay was unwilling to accept the Savarkar brothers in the Bombay jails on the grounds that their incarceration there could aggravate the situation. It was similar to the attitude of the Government of Punjab that did not want the Ghadr conspirators to be lodged in Punjab jails, in view of the prevalent feeling among Sikhs. There was a possibility of asking the local governments whether they would object to the transfer of their political prisoners to other provinces in India. For example, a confinement of the Savarkar brothers in jails of the Madras Presidency or the United Provinces without causing any embarrassment to Bombay. Whether these provinces would be willing to accept them was another matter; they would probably strongly object, but it was worth ascertaining if such a transfer would be acceptable to both governments involved. 9
Sir William Vincent was of the view that all political prisoners should be transferred to British Indian jails from the Andamans. Given the worsening health of the Savarkar brothers, he opined that pressure must be put on the Government of Bombay to accede to the wishes and take back their prisoners from the Andamans. He saw no reason for the objections since Bombay had many equally, if not more, dangerous political prisoners. Prolonged incarceration of the Savarkars in the Andamans was increasingly exposing the Government of India ‘to severe criticism of a justifiable character’. 10 There was unanimous agreement among all members to this suggestion.
Cellular Jail, July 1920
Far removed from the hectic parleys that were going on regarding his release, on 4 November 1920, Vinayak was promoted to the position of a foreman in charge of manufacturing oil. After a brief probation he was confirmed as a permanent foreman. He drew a handsome monthly salary of Re 1 for this work! The coconut gardens and the oil from them were the main source of revenue in the Andamans. Cellular Jail had three big reservoirs full of oil ground out of the mills by prisoners. Big casks were filled with oil and exported to Calcutta and Rangoon and in return several thousand rupees accrued to the government treasury.
In addition to the shuddhi, sangathan and literacy movements that he spearheaded in jail, another issue close to Vinayak’s heart was the propagation of Hindi. Right from 1906, while in England, he had begun work to make Hindi the national language of India. In a linguistically diverse country such as India the exalting of a single language was bound to create tensions and differences. But it was also an important tool for national unity, Vinayak argued. Making Hindi the national language of the independent republic of India and Devanagari the script in which it was to be written, was something that all members of Abhinav Bharat pledged. It was long after 1906, and an initial rejection of the idea, that several other national leaders like Tilak and Gandhi espoused the cause of Hindi as the national language. Their acceptance followed agitations on the matter by the Nagar Pracharini Sabha of Benares and the Arya Samaj. In fact, the propaganda in favour of Hindi as India’s national language and encouraging patriotic writings in it was pioneered by Swami Dayanand Saraswati.
Right from his early days in the Andamans, Vinayak encouraged people to speak in Hindi. Its status was one of confusion to many. Was it a language at all or merely a mixture of several dialects? Did it have a grammar? Did it have any sound literature to its credit? There were many such misgivings. Prisoners from Bengal and Madras Presidencies felt that their languages—Bengali and Tamil—had such an ancient history and rich literature that they deserved to be the national language, rather than this concocted language of sorts. Vinayak’s argument was that while one could love their mother tongue and keep its antiquity intact, there was a need for a cultural integrator given India’s diversity. Such an integrator would bind all Indians together in a common thread of national identity and unity. Given that a vast section of Indians spoke or understood Hindi, promoting it as the lingua franca and the national language would help foster people-to-people integration and thereby of the nation.
In the classes that Vina
yak conducted at jail, he would insist that every prisoner learn the languages of provinces other than his own. He prescribed an order of study for all prisoners which was first their mother tongue, followed by Hindi, and lastly, the language of any province other than their own. The Andamans offered a rare opportunity to them for such a study as well. He taught the Bengali prisoners Hindi and Marathi; to prisoners from Maharashtra, Hindi and Bengali; and to the Punjabi, Hindi as well as their script, Gurumukhi. The Gujaratis were the last to come to Cellular Jail, but Vinayak managed to teach them the Hindi alphabet and equipped them to read and write. Being personally unaware of the south Indian languages, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada and Malayalam, and since none of the prisoners were competent enough to teach them, provisions could not be made for classes in these languages. Vinayak was ‘conscious of this defect in our common programme of teaching languages’. 11 For ten years, Vinayak stuck to this task of propagating Hindi and had the full cooperation of his colleagues.
Till then, government records were maintained in Urdu, and even Hindi was written in the Persian script. Vinayak strongly advocated the implementation of the Devanagari script as it was the one in which the oldest language of the subcontinent, Sanskrit, was written. During his interactions with local merchants in his capacity as the foreman of oil collections, Vinayak passed this zeal on to them too. Through his influence, a girls’ school that was started in the Andamans began a compulsory teaching of Hindi in the Devanagari script. There were many books in Hindi procured for the library and these were circulated among the prisoners and also among the locals, through a travelling library. Making them all conversant with Hindi, and not slip into Urdu which they were used to, was a challenge and Vinayak managed to circumvent that to a large extent.
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