Tilak, when asked if he had anything to say, said, “All I wish to say is that in spite of the verdict of the Jury I maintain that I am innocent. There are higher powers that rule the destiny of things and it may be the will of Providence that the cause which I represent may prosper more by my suffering than by my remaining free.”
At about 7 that evening the news about the judge’s decision to finish the case that night leaked from the High Court, though it was kept a specially guarded secret. Within a couple of hours thousands of people gathered at the entrances to the High Court and were anxiously waiting to know the result of the trial. Heavy showers of rain and the dim light in the streets combined with the murky weather spread a pall of gloom, which could not but affect the minds at least of those who were absorbed in imagining what must be passing in the courthouse. All access to it was completely prohibited. At about 10 p.m. the verdict was out. There was a sudden flurry of activity amongst the people outside. The mounted police dispersed the crowd.
But the next morning the news spread like wild fire through the city and the people conducted demonstrations with a vengeance. The effect of the news of Tilak’s conviction and transportation was massive. The mill workers went on a day-long strike, bazaars closed down spontaneously, and the streets rang with the cries of the newspaper boys bringing in the latest news about Tilak. Newspapers giving accounts about the proceedings sold like hot cakes. Tilak’s photographs and leaflets containing songs composed in his honour were sold by tens of thousands. The popular feeling about Tilak was manifested in a hundred other ways in private and public places. The police tried to repress any kind of demonstration, even passive ones, and soon things got out of control. There was rioting in several places. The Tilak Trial Disturbances Government Gazetteer Vol 11, 1908 noted that to deal with such a situation there was the Bombay Garrison consisting of three companies of Royal Garrison Artillery, half a Battalion of British Infantry, one Regiment of Native Infantry, supplemented by a force of 1,274 volunteers composed of Foot, Mounted and Artillery, and the police Force made of 85 Europeans armed with revolvers, 2,038 Native Constables armed with batons, and 100 Native sowars armed with sabres, and 70 Native Constables armed with breech loading, smooth bore, 476 rifles firing buck shot. Before such a movement could come to a head, the police would for some time have been in possession of information enabling them to judge the gravity of the situation, and that steps would already have been taken to warn the military to be in readiness in the event of the civil power being overawed. It was likely that the military authority would have made arrangements to obtain additional troops from outside, acting on experience gained during the previous riots. If the trouble had not spread sufficiently over the rest of India to prevent the military requisitions being complied with, the Bombay military authorities would be prepared for all emergencies.
The military had to be called out and the firing resulted in the deaths of fifteen and the wounding of thirty-eight people. For nearly six days business was at a standstill and a reign of terror prevailed in many parts of the city. These unusual demonstrations proved the great depth to which the roots of Tilak’s popularity had penetrated in a population that was generally regarded as the least homogenous in formation and the least susceptible to political sentiment.
Protests arose in very large numbers in all parts of the country and from all political parties. Tilak’s incarceration in 1908 was the first occasion on which the whole of India, for the first time, rose together and demanded an explanation for the high-handedness of the bureaucracy. Justice Davar was condemned throughout by leaders of various political parties in the country as also by the editors of Indian newspapers. Wrote the Mahratta on 2 August 1908:
Now that the disturbances in Bombay have subsided, we may, we suppose, state freely what we think of them without being misunderstood. These disturbances have a history which may be divided into three parts. In their initial stage they were a mere passive expression of sorrow at the sufferings of Mr. Tilak on the part of the toiling thousands in the industrial field of Bombay who, though not educated, were familiar enough with Mr. Tilak’s name and personality to feel for him in the hour of his trouble. And this passive expression of sorrow took the usual form of a temporary cessation of work. If the men who voluntarily stopped work had been allowed to do so without interference, then there would have been no trouble. We all know that such stoppage of work could not possibly have gone on for an indefinite period of time. But strange to say, the authorities and the Anglo-Indian press were not prepared to allow the sympathisers of Mr. Tilak even that much latitude. Admittedly the stopping of work was meant as an expression of sympathy and respect for Mr. Tilak; there was no secret about that. But the authorities and the Anglo-Indian press took umbrage at it. They could not even bear the idea of the people showing sympathy for a man who had been judicially convicted of sedition. The action, however, to which they were opposed was legal; and so they set about to counteract it in a round about and under-hand manner. The movement for stopping work and the countermovement for forcing it to go on—these were the two main factors which contributed to the disturbances. But of the two the second was less remote and more avoidable than the first; and on the analogy of the doctrine of contributory negligence in the law of Torts, we are inclined to think that so far as the preparatory stage of the riot goes, those connected with the counter-movement are more responsible for the disturbances than those who had thought of quietly stopping work for a brief space of time. It would be easy enough to imagine what might have happened in the absence of this counter-movement. The mills would have stopped work for some time and that would be about all. There is not a scrap of evidence to show that the mill-hands meant to do anything else but to quietly show their sympathy for Mr. Tilak. Breach of peace was not their purpose; for what were the poor people to gain by it? But imprudent counsels prevailed, and some mills were kept going in spite of the unwillingness of the operatives to work. A kind of coercion also was used to keep them working. The consequence was that with one class of mill-hands clamouring outside, and another class within the mills who were only coerced to work and were prepared to step out if they met with the least support from outside, the situation of passive expression of feeling at once assumed the form of a disturbance. But the conduct of the officials in another matter, viz., the closing of the bazaars was calculated to throw a still more clear and certain light upon this question of the responsibility for the Bombay riots. Now with regard to the closing of the mills it may perhaps be urged with some degree of plausibility that it might have resulted in thousands of mill-hands being idle and that in its turn might have led to the growing of mischief. But nothing of the kind was to be feared from the closing of the shops! For it is impossible to find in the City of Bombay a more peaceful class of people than its businessmen, the shopkeepers, their Gumastas and servants. And surely the closing of the bazaars could not possibly have by itself led to any riots. But the meddlesome hand of official mischief-maker was to be seen even here, and with what consequences we have all seen. The closing of the bazaars was meant as an expression of sympathy for Mr. Tilak and in their unreasonable solicitude for securing their judicial prosecution of Mr. Tilak from even the slightest disapprobation from the public, the officials set out, with the assistance of their non-official henchmen, upon a campaign of coercion of these business men, which was the most unwise thing they could do. The result was that the stopping of business in Bombay was after all more prolonged, and the expression of sympathy for Mr. Tilak rendered all the more pointed and educative than it would have been otherwise. It is this imprudent countermovement that naturally led to remonstrance and the remonstrance led to rioting. That with such large reserves of civil and military power at their command, Government succeeded eventually in putting down the disturbances speaks nothing in their favour. But apart from the sad loss of life caused by the procedure adopted in putting down the riots, are Government sure that even on the merits of the policy of interference
they do not stand to-day one inch lower in the estimation of the people than they did before Mr. Tilak’s conviction and their interference with the spontaneous general movement of sympathy for him? If it was legitimate for Government to prosecute and transport Mr. Tilak, it was, we think, equally legitimate for the people to express their sympathy for a citizen and public-spirited scholar and fellow-countryman who, they believed, worked for them and who, they also believed, suffered for that work. In transporting Mr. Tilak and in coercing the people with a view to prevent any expression of sympathy for him, Government were evidently burning the candle of the popular goodwill at both ends; and for the result, as we have already indicated, they have themselves to thank. Mr. Justice Davar himself remarked in his charge to the jury that Government had no right to expect that the people should entertain affection for them; but their interference within the liberty of the mill-hands and the businessmen of Bombay showed that they would have the people indirectly express their affection for Government by going on with their business as if nothing at all had happened in their social and political world.” 13
Tilak’s trial was a grave political blunder. It was aggravated by the judge’s intemperate words about the patriot who was loved and admired by all. Davar had called Tilak a man with a “diseased and perverted mind”. This provoked a ready retort from one of Tilak’s compatriots, N. C. Kelkar, who ridiculed the judge assuming gratuitously the role of an expert on mental diseases. He called him in his paper, “Lal zagyacha vaidu”, a quack in red robes. Morley, then secretary of state for India, disapproved of both the trial and the sentence. He wrote a letter to Lord Sydenham, the then governor of Bombay, at whose instance the prosecution was launched. In his view, “The mischief of the trial and condemnation of Tilak would be greater than if you left him alone.” Sydenham tried to justify himself. Morley stuck to his opinion, observing that although it was morally and legally right, it was politically wrong. Following this, Morley issued orders that henceforth, local governments, before launching upon a political prosecution, should refer the matter to the government of India. But the Indian government persisted in its purblind policy of prosecuting patriots,raising their appeal and further enhancing their prestige amongst their countrymen. Sydenham was later forced to change the verdict from hard labour to simple imprisonment, to cancel the imposed fine and to also allot a separate cook for Tilak in Mandalay.
In the meanwhile, Tilak was whisked away to the then Colaba station and from there to the Sabarmati jail where he was lodged for sixty-two days before he was transferred to Mandalay. There was a lot that he had to do in the meanwhile and he gave instructions regarding the house and the newspapers to his eldest son-in-law and his nephew. He also had to send a lot of telegrams and letters as also some instructions to his friend and co-adjudicator Khaparde who was to go to England to carry his case to the Privy Council. But all his efforts and the expenses proved to be ineffective. The Privy Council did not find sufficient reasons to admit the case. Tilak would have to undergo the full term of imprisonment. Tilak wrote about his journey to Mandalay:
On September 13, 1908, the jailor came to the room that was allotted to me at Sabarmati. He seemed to have made all the arrangements and I was lodged into the train which seemed to be quite close to the jail. I was dressed in my regular clothes and not a jail uniform. I came to know after reaching Mandalay that I was to undergo simple imprisonment instead of hard labour. Despite all the secrecy surrounding my shift from Sabarmati, I could still hear the cries of “Tilak Maharaj ki jai” from several hundred people when the train left Baroda and reached Miyagaon. At 6.30, I was shifted to the steam launch in Mumbai which was to take me to Hardy’s, a boat used for military transport. No one other than the captain knew where the boat was to go. The boat was quite big but I was put in a small dungeon-like room at the bottom of it. Once in 24 hours, a white officer escorted me to the deck for a walk. Rest of the times, I was in that room. It was extremely hot in there.
On the ninth day the boat reached Rangoon. We did not halt anywhere on the way. About 2,000 people awaited me there. I was put into a train and the next day we reached Mandalay by eight in the morning. The superintendent had already made arrangements for me. I never left that place till the time I was there except for once when I was shifted to Meiktila for about two months due to the outbreak of Cholera in Mandalay.
My room was on the second floor and was 20 ft x12 ft. Initially, there were two or three other prisoners with me but later there was no one other than the prisoner whose job was to cook for me. The compound around the room was 130 ft long and 50 ft wide and I had to take my walk in that area when they let me for one hour in the evening. The room was built like a cage.14
Tilak was allowed to write home once a month and was allowed visitors once in three months. When he was shifted to Meiktila, he was accompanied by a British officer, B. S. Carey, who later had this to say about his interaction with Tilak:
Lieutenant Fennell, who took Tilak to Meiktila, tells me that the prisoner spoke most openly to him on the journey and told him that the moment he was released he should recommence his preaching and teaching against the British. He said that he knew law as well as any man and that had he but been a little more careful in choosing his words he could never have been convicted. He says that the British are treating India better than any other foreigners would treat her, but no foreigner has a right to rule India, and no amount of trying to do right can count against the initial wrong done by the administration of the country by the British. He says that he will run his newspaper again and that he will devote his life to getting the British turned out of the country. He quotes Japan and Russia, and he says that India will rise before long, already the people are preparing or being prepared and the Indian Empire will live and outlast the British Empire, which like all Empires must crumble. He confesses that our departure will be followed by years of bitter warfare, but one race or one religious body will conquer and will rule, and India will be for better or for worse ruled by her own sons.15
With such reports being sent against him, it wasn’t surprising that Tilak’s petition regarding the rest of his sentence were quashed. Says one such letter from the governor of Bombay to the secretary to the government of Burma: “With reference to the correspondence ending with your confidential letter No. 352-16 J-54, dated the 14th May 1912, regarding a petition, dated the 24th February 1912, from convict Bal Gangadhar Tilak at present confined in the Mandalay Central Prison, who prays that the unexpired portion of his sentence may be remitted or that he may at least be allowed such remissions of the sentence as he would have obtained by his good conduct, etc., in jail, but for the commutation of his sentence, I am directed to request that, with the permission of His Honour the Lieutenant Governor, the prisoner may be informed that the Governor in Council is unable to accede to his prayer.”16
Tilak’s health was a matter of concern to his friends, family and well-wishers back home. There was news that he had lost a lot of weight. A letter from the medical officer and superintendent of the Mandalay Central Jail to the inspector-general of prisons, Burma, described it thus:
The prisoner was admitted into this Jail in September 1908 weighing 117 lbs. I believe his original weight was somewhere near 125, and the deduction was probably due to the change in mode of living and the long journey from India to here. The prisoner appears to have improved gradually but steadily. The prisoner may be said to have kept his normal weight, during at least 1910, 1911, 1912 the original reduction being a phenomenon often seen in prisoners of all classes. The last week or two, the prisoner has lost a couple of pounds but I attach no importance to it; we have had a “heat wave” lately and everybody has, I am sure, suffered a little. Apart from the weighment, the prisoner’s general health is, in my opinion, as good as can be expected. He has always been cheerful and active. Even at his present age (55) and with diabetes, I have often seen him running up or down stairs in his quarters. He pursues his usual occupation of reading and
writing and is hardly ever ill. Those who see him at long intervals have remarked that he is ageing fast, but of course I am unable to judge on this point owing to the fact of my seeing him constantly. There is only one trouble the prisoner has worth mentioning, viz., diabetes. He has been subject to it for years. He has had it all the time he has been under my observation. But the progress of the diabetic condition is controlled as far as possible by suitable diet and medicines . . . The latest treatment (a German method) appears to have done the prisoner a lot of good. Under the circumstances, I do not consider that the prisoner is showing signs of a breakdown. It has, at the same time, to be borne in mind that a diabetic may collapse suddenly at any time. The danger, however, is no greater now than it was on the first day the prisoner was admitted into Jail. 17
His world now shrunk to 20 ft x 12 ft, and totally devoid of any outside contact, Tilak successfully turned inwards with his usual determination. There was no greater theme than that of man’s existence and duty that could naturally suggest itself to him. The Bhagavad Geeta is a message of duty and Tilak decided to examine it in the light of his intellect and genius and interpret it for himself. A man of action that he was, he could not help realising the great message of karmayog that the Geeta contained. He elaborated his thesis and projected a work of large dimensions. The Geeta Rahasya is the result of all that labour in restraint. Wrote Tilak about it:
The conclusion I have come to is that the Geeta advocates the performance of action in this world even after the actor has achieved the highest union with the supreme Deity by Jnana (knowledge) or Bhakti (devotion). This action must be done to keep the world going by the right path of evolution, which the Creator has destined the world to follow. In order that the action may not bind the actor it must be done with the aim of helping his purpose and without any attachment to the coming result. This I hold is the lesson of Gita. Jnana Yoga there is. Yes. Bhakti Yoga there is. Yes. Who says not? But they are both subservient to the Karma Yoga preached in the Gita. What was to be done in a case of conflict of duties, e.g. where one urged him to fight and the other not to fight. Krishna’s answers always ended in asking him to stick to his duty as a Kshatriya. All philosophical ramifications of Krishna’s advice always converged towards saying, Therefore do your hero’s duty. The word therefore occurring at the end of all his particular disquisitions indicated the point which he was proving and that point was Karma or Action and not Knowledge or Dhyana nor Sanyasa or Renunciation nor again Bhakti or Devotion. The real question at the root of the Gita is: Is it better to be content with knowledge and renounce the world or to participate in the action of the world. And Krishna definitely answers: Action with Knowledge is better than Renunciation with Knowledge. Arjuna was urged to Action on four grounds, (1) because action could not be shirked (2) because there was no sin if action were performed through reason as a duty (3) because if action or no action was the same, there was no ground to choose the one before the other (4) finally because for the sake of Lokasangraha a philosopher must act and show how to act.
Lokmanya Tilak- the First National Leader Page 5
