Lokmanya Tilak

by A K Bhagwat

  In the course of his speech Tilak uttered most memorable words. He said “The mere character of the writing may be Prima facie evidence of the intention but intention must always be inferred from overt acts. Tilak or no Tilak is not the question. The question is, do you really intend as guardians of the liberty of the press to allow as much liberty here in India as is enjoyed by the people of England? That is the point that you will have to very carefully consider. I wish to show you that mine is an article written in controversy as a reply to an opponent. It was penned to defend the interests of my community. You may not agree with me in my views. Different communities have different views. And every community must have opportunity to express its own views. I have not come here to ask you any grace. I am prepared to stand by the consequences of my act. There is no question about it. I am not going to tell you that I wrote the article in a fit of madness. I am not a lunatic. I have written it believing it my duty to write in the interest of the public in this way, believing that that, was the view of the community. I wanted to express it, believing that the interests of the community would not be otherwise safeguarded. Believe me when I say that it was both in the interest of the people and government that this view should be placed before them. If you honestly go to the question like that it will be your duty to give a verdict of not guilty, whatever may be your opinion about me, even if you dislike me as much as you can. I know I am not a persona grata with the government; but that is no reason why I should not have justice. My personality is not the question.”

  Kelkar, in his summary, further writes: “His real object or motive in writing the articles, Mr. Tilak contended, was to give a reply to the theories and suggestions, which were controversial enough, of Anglo-Indian and other critics who took the opportunity of the bomb-outrages merely for recommending to government an aggravated policy of repression. The surrounding circumstances showed that and to prove this one circumstance Mr. Tilak had to put in seventy-one newspapers, Indian or Anglo-Indian, a perusal of the articles in which would show how big was the controversy that was raging. Mr. Tilak’s intention could not be to excite disaffection because the articles showed that they were written with the express purpose, mentioned in so many words in the articles themselves, of giving advice and a warning to government. The construction put upon the words of the articles by the prosecution was unjustifiable. In the first place the words relied on were mistranslations, some of them very gross ones, calculated to mislead the mind of the jury. The translator himself was not put into the witness box, but an official expert who generally certified to the correctness of translations which he himself had not made. Even when the necessary corrections were made, there remained the inuendoes ascribed to the writer. No specific inuendoes were charged and therefore no inuendoes could be found or supplied by the jury. But the prosecution affected to find an inuendo in every word, as it were, on the gratuitous assumption that the writer was actuated by a criminal intention. This intention they had not proved. As for the language of the articles, it had to be remembered that in writing on high political thesis, the writer had to labour under the disadvantage of the Marathi language not yet being able to cope with the progress in the political life of the country. Even the official expert had to use antiquated dictionaries in the witness box to translate certain sentences put to him in the cross-examination; and even when he had the help of those dictionaries he could not help making himself ridiculous by making queer translations of simple words and sentences. That should give an idea as to the hard task a leading newspaper writer has to perform, as he has to write on all manner of subjects without long notice and sometimes on the spur of the moment. Moreover the words and ideas for which Mr. Tilak was now being sought to be held responsible were not invented by him. They formed a part of the political controversy which had been raging in India for over thirty years past between the official and the pro-official party on the one hand and the popular party on the other. If the language of the articles was properly understood in the light of these considerations, then the jury would have no difficulty in acquitting him. Something more than the mere objectionable character of certain words had to be proved to bring home the charge to him; and the prosecution not having done so, the jury had no option but to acquit him.”

  Tilak concluded his speech with the words: “I appeal to you not for myself but in the interest of the cause I have the honour to represent. It is a cause that is sacred and I doubt not, gcintiemen, that He before whom all of us will have to stand one day and render an account of our actions will inspire you with the courage of your convictions and help you in arriving at a right decision on the issue involved in this case.”

  Mr. Branson, the Advocate-General, then rose to speak. While commenting on the charge of sedition he mainly referred to the judgment of Justice Strachey. “Every point which can arise and has arisen in this case, has been discussed by Mr. Justice Strachey in complete opposition to what has been the defence of Tilak. That is why I have pointed out to you the decision of the Privy Council, as supporting my contention that the truth of the language charged with sedition cannot be pleaded or proved.” He further observed: “You have been told that you are guardians of the press. Fiddlesticks! You are guardians of the press no more than I am. Before God, you are the guardians of the Penal Code and the Penal Code protects the press.” Referring to Tilak’s objections about translations he said: “Can Mr. Tilak benefit if I will allow him the whole of his objections to the translations,... eighteen words in all are disputed! And he has the effrontery to call them ‘the distortions of the Translator’s office’.” The Advocate-General knew very well that ‘the card,’ which was regarded by the ingenious police officer as a trump card, proved nothing and therefore said in a face-saving manner: “I am unwilling to unduly press the matter, if you think or if his Lordship thinks that it is a matter that should not be pressed...” After carrying on his argument for some more time the Advocate-General addressing Justice Davar asked: “May I ask whether your Lordship proposes to go on and finish this case tonight?” Justice Davar replied that he proposed to do so and the Court adjourned for twenty minutes. After this brief interval the Advocate-General hurried through his speech within a few minutes.

  Summing Up

  Then commenced the judge’s summing up. It went on till 8 p.m. after which the jury retired to the Chamber. It was indeed extraordinary that instead of following the usual routine, Justice Davar decided to finish the case in the dark hours of the night. Everything appeared to be preordained and the movements of the police officers had started right from the afternoon. It was indeed amusing to watch the restlessness of the bureaucracy whenever there was a trial of a political leader in India under British rule. A conviction was almost a certainty in these cases. The individual who was being tried never intended to run away and yet the anxiety of the police officers knew no bounds. In the present case, the anxiety was all the greater, for Tilak’s trial had caused great commotion in the people. The decision of Justice Davar to finish the case was altogether unexpected and many people had left the High Court at 5 p.m. thinking that the case would continue the next day. After 7 p.m. the news, however, went out that the judgment would be given at night and crowds immediately flocked to the High Court, eager to know the future of their beloved leader. Only a few, however, got admission to the premises of the High Court and others were held up by a strong police cordon. It was a dark night and there were occasional showers which added to the chill in the minds of the people. Time crept snail-like with ominous slovenliness. None knew what was happening inside the grey walls of the High Court. The presentiment that Tilak was going to be removed from among them had a stunning effect on those near him. An atmosphere of grimness prevailed. The hall of the High Court which was already dark, appeared gloomy as the dim lamps made one conscious more of the presence of darkness than of light. When the jury retired at 8 p.m., there was a terrible suspense. Khaparde, Kelkar and a few other friends of Tilak, gathere
d around him and all of them took tea together. The summing up of Justice Davar was self-evident and an unpredictably long term of imprisonment for Tilak appeared to be the only result of the case. Tilak’s friends were overwhelmed and words were inadequate for feelings. The situation was almost unbearable. And yet it was relieved in a moment by Tilak who laughed in his usual hearty manner and said to Khaparde: “Dadasahib, today the complexion of the game appears different than usual. Most probably it is going to be a transportation for life. This might be our last tea together.” Tilak laughed so that others must not weep. His light-hearted words were a triumph of the mind over matter, of self-contained will over the domineering power, of the spark of goodness over the might of tyranny. The prospect of the punishment which would have struck terror in the hearts of most people, appeared to Tilak as the pranks of a power intoxicated by its own might, as childish efforts to put the clock backwards and to stem the tide of a freedom movement.

  The jury returned at 9-20 p.m. On all the three charges they by a majority of seven to two found Tilak guilty. Justice Davar asked him, “Do you wish to say anything more before I pass the sentence?” And thus spake Tilak: “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.” To comment on these words is impertinence. They are meant for the delight and wonder of generations to come. For these words raised the whole issue from the bleak atmosphere of the Court to the rarified atmosphere of eternal values. Justice Davar had said that Tilak’s was ‘a diseased and a perverted mind’ and ‘that such journalism as was represented by his articles was a curse to the country.’ Fourteen years later another and a better judge, an Englishman, tried another Indian patriot for the same offence and under the same section. Though the punishment too was exactly the same the difference in their attitudes towards the men whom they were sentencing was very striking. Mr. Broomfield in giving his verdict against Mahatma Gandhi said: “I propose in passing sentence to follow the precedent of a case in many respects similar to this case, that was decided some twelve years ago, I mean the case against Mr. Bal Gangadhar Tilak under the same section. The sentence that was passed upon him, as it finally stood, was a sentence of simple imprisonment for six years. You will not consider it unreasonable, I think, that you should be classed with Mr. Tilak, that is a sentence of two years’ simple imprisonment on each count of the charge that is six years in all, which I feel it my duty to pass upon you. And I should like to say in doing so, that if the course of events in India should make it possible for the government to reduce the period and release you, no one will be better pleased than I.”

  Gandhiji said: “I would say one word. Since you have done me the honour of recalling the trial of Lokmanya Bal Gangadhar Tilak, I just want to say that I consider it to be the proudest privilege and honour to be associated with his name. So far as the sentence itself is concerned, I certainly consider that it is as light as any judge, would inflict on me; and so far as the whole proceedings are concerned I must say that I could not have expected greater courtesy.”

  Tilak was sentenced to six years’ transportation and was asked to pay a fine of one thousand rupees. Everything was over at 10 p.m. and Tilak was removed from the Indian scene. He was taken away by a private door to the western gate of the High Court where a police-van was kept ready. And this was only the beginning of a journey and none knew how it would end.

  The Sequel

  The news of Tilak’s conviction and transportation came as a terrible shock to the people of India. The working-class population in Bombay, spontaneously observed a strike and held demonstrations, which were at first peaceful, but which owing to the police-offensive became violent. The military was brought on the scene and as a result of firing, 15 people were killed and many others were injured. The Bande Mataram, of Calcutta voiced the feelings of people all over India in the following words: “We are after all human and cannot press back our tears when high-souled patriotism is reported to be rewarded with sy convict’s fate in a penal settlement. Solemn thoughts may afterwards prevail, strength may afterwards come to pull up the sinking heart; but the keen anguish of the hour when the stunning news of a great patriot’s fate is flashed by the wire for time, is too real to be glossed over with the admonitions of proud philosophy. This morning, we have actually seen three or four old men flinging away the newspaper that brought them the terrible news and taking to mournful musings. Such chastening sorrow has its noble use. It is that one touch of nature which will make us all kin and add to the credit side of the account.”

  The Manchester Guardian wrote: “The nature of the sentence passed upon Mr. Tilak will be interpreted throughout India as a proof that the government had resolved by hook or by crook to remove him from their path. He has been condemned on his ‘general record’ which being interpreted means that he has been punished because he can and does stir up to higher things the emotion of a multitude that understands him.

  “Mr. Tilak is fifty-two. He will never return from the penal settlement to which he has been consigned. But the memory of his trial and his conviction will serve for many a long day to prevent that amelioration of race-bitterness and that restoration of confidence and mutual understanding without which the good government of India by Englishmen is entirely impossible, and without which all ‘reforms’ will be completely futile.”

  1 This, however, was not an isolated instance of the ingenuity of fficials in India and how they used their imagination particularly in unearthing political crime. Story goes that a parcel of a college student in Poona was intercepted by the police. It contained a tin, which was believed to be full of some explosive substance After it was carefully opened, the police officer danced with joy for in it was a yellow powder. Could it be anything else but sulphur? What if it was, unlike sulphur, completely odourless? Imagine the disappointment and chagrin of the custodian of law when it was finally found to be nothing more deadly than the powder of gram-pulse and spices, which, in Maharashtra, is eaten along with rice and is called metkoot!

  AWAY FROM THEPUBLIC GAZE

  12

  The Lokmanya, in Mandalay, was away from the public gaze, shut out from the busy, noisy world of everyday happenings. The life of solitary confinement creates a new world for the prisoner, a world in which time proceeds with the speed of a snail, a world of suffocating monotony and crushing isolation. This objective description reveals only a minor part of the life of a prisoner. The whole truth can be understood only when one knows the moods and the reactions of the prisoner. Nowhere is Milton’s stipulation that ‘the mind is its own place and can make a hell of heaven and a heaven of hell’ truer than in prison. We look to Tilak’s letters from prison to catch a glimpse of his personal life; but there too his usual reticence does not leave him. He had that stoical attitude of mind which made him impervious to personal sentiments or emotions. Like all normal persons he might of course have felt them and in prison, away from the busy activities of a political life, one expects a person to be more than usually subjective, personal and even sentimental. Tilak had, however, the philosophic temperament which enabled him to sublimate the personal by creating a world of ideas – ideas which would resolve the torments of his soul and point out to him and others a way of action. Out of prison he seldom, if ever, spoke about himself. Little, therefore, could have been known of his life in prison. Fortunately for posterity, there is a humble biographer of Tilak in prison, a biographer who has done much more than what was expected of him.

  Vasudeo Ramchandra Kulkarni, a convict from Satara district, stayed with Tilak as his cook for nearly two years. At the instance of Shri Bapat, the editor and compiler of Tilak’s reminiscences, Kulkarni gave a wonderful account of Tilak’s life at Mandalay. For an uneducated person to whom the art of writing was something of a mystery to be
regarded with awe, Kulkarni has done marvellously well. His devotion to Tilak and his sincere effort to do his very best to serve the great man give a rare elevation to his simple, unadorned account. Kulkarni writes: “I was one night picked up suddenly from Yeravda prison. I did not know where I was being taken. I could not understand anything about my destination even after I was taken to Madras and in a boat across the sea.... From Rangoon, I was taken directly to Mandalay prison. Mandalay jail is situated in the south-west corner of the Mandalay fort. I was first kept in a separate cell. I was asked to cook food in one corner of the common kitchen and to take it in a plate to Tilak Maharaj. I had not seen Tilak Maharaj before I was convicted and I was therefore very glad to see him. This arrangement continued for some days. In the meanwhile Tilak Maharaj had made a persistent demand that his cook should be kept with him. His efforts at last succeeded and I went to stay with him. Tilak Maharaj was kept in a cell on the first floor. It was 20’ × 12’ and was separated from the rest of the barrack by a wooden partition. Tall brick-walls were also built around it and it was cut off from the barrack-compound. This cell in which Maharaj was kept was originally meant for white prisoners. The yard around the room was about 150 feet long and 60 feet wide and there were mango and neem trees. He was allowed to move only in this yard. Nobody, who was not accompanied by a jailor, was allowed to enter the yard. The yard was locked day and night and the jailor personally locked the cell at night. On the ground floor we had some space about the same size as the cell upstairs, where arrangements for bath, cooking, etc. were made. Our cell, like the rest of the barracks, had wooden bars like those in a cage. In the cell of Tilak Maharaj, there was a table, two chairs, an easy chair, an iron cot, and two cupboards for keeping books which Maharaj always wanted in huge numbers. Maharaj was allowed to have his usual clothes-dhoti, cap, shirt, Poona shoe. These and a few other things such as the lantern, the bed, etc. were in his cell. In the kitchen, there were the necessary utensils, a wooden seat and one or two baskets to keep things. All these, Maharaj had to purchase at his own expense. We could not, however, get anything unless it was sanctioned by the jail superintendent.”