by Robert Payne
Within a few days most of the conspirators were rounded up. Badge was arrested the following day; Gopal Godse and Parchure were both arrested four days later, and Kistayya was arrested on February 14. Finally on April 11 the police caught up with Jagdish Prasad Goel, the man who had sold Nathuram Godse a revolver and seven bullets for five hundred rupees. The police had nearly arrested him some weeks earlier, but he saw them coming and escaped through a back door. For some reason he was not ordered to stand trial with the other prisoners.
The Verdict of the Court
THE TRIAL of Nathuram Godse and seven other conspirators implicated in the murder of Gandhi opened on the morning of May 27, 1948, in the Red Fort at Delhi.
Only the most important political trials were held at the Red Fort Here, exactly ninety years before, the last of the Mughal emperors, Siraj-ud-din Bahadur Shah Zaffar, had been placed on trial by the British and sentenced to banishment for life. Here, too, there was held in 1945 the trial of the leaders of the Indian National Army, who were acquitted after leading members of the Congress Party, including Nehru and Asaf Ali, rose to defend them. The trial known as Rex versus Nathuram Godse and others took place in an upper room in a large Victorian building erected in the grounds of the Fort. The judge was Mr. Justice Atma Charan, and there was no jury.
The prisoners sat in a small dock in three rows: Nathuram Godse, Apte and Karkare in the front row, Savarkar sitting alone in the back row, and the remaining prisoners in the middle row. Because May and June are the hottest months of the year in Delhi, the prisoners wore open-neck shirts without coats, and this air of informality seemed to spread throughout the entire court. Fans revolved overhead, lawyers mopped their brows. There were days of suffocating heat when the judge, the lawyers and the prisoners could scarcely breathe. From outside there would come the sounds of the sweepers cutting the grass on the great lawns surrounding the marble palaces nearby.
A heavy security guard was placed round the courtroom. Admission to the court could be obtained only by the production of special passes signed by a magistrate. The passes were valid for only one day, and had to be renewed the following day. Visitors and learned counsel were liable to be searched at the gate.
The trial was one of the longest on record, lasting well into the following year. There were altogether 149 prosecution witnesses. The examination of the witnesses and the recording of the evidence were not concluded until the beginning of November. Every question and answer had to be interpreted by Hindustani, Marathi and Telugu interpreters. One witness might spend the whole day in the stand, and there would be only one or two pages in four languages to show for it.
The main outlines of the conspiracy were soon established by the prosecution. The prisoners’ statements, read in open court, dovetailed with sufficient neatness to enable the judge to follow the day-by-day actions of the conspirators. Nathuram Godse was the pivot around which the conspiracy revolved. Occasionally, out of the mountains of evidence, there came unexpected discoveries. It was learned that the five hand grenades were in perfect working order with the igniter set at four seconds’ delay. Godse had intended to use all the hand grenades at the prayer meeting on January 20 with no thought of the innocent bystanders who would inevitably be killed. From the beginning to the end it was a strangely amateurish conspiracy. When Pahwa was igniting the guncotton slab, he was being closely watched by a woman, Sulochana Devi, who lived not far from the back gate of Birla House. Immediately after the explosion she went up to him and called for the police, and he made no effort to escape. As the trial progressed, it became increasingly evident that none of the conspirators except Godse really knew what they were doing. Kistayya was illiterate, and very close to being a half-wit. Karkare, the former actor, appeared to be enjoying conspiracy for its own sake without regard for the consequences. Gopal Godse played the role of the diffident, adoring brother. Only Nathuram Godse wore the tragic robes of the authentic antihero.
Month after month he watched the trial with an air of calm detachment, more completely self-possessed than anyone else in the courtroom. Quite early in the trial it became clear that he wanted to assume the entire burden of guilt, and was especially anxious to remove any traces of guilt from Savarkar whom he revered. Finally on November 8, 1948, more than nine months after the assassination, he was allowed his day in the sun. Speaking quietly in English from a long handwritten manuscript covering ninety-two pages, he explained why he killed Gandhi. The speech should be quoted at some length because it provides the best available portrait of the man.
Born in a devotional Brahmin family, I instinctively came to revere Hindu religion, Hindu history and Hindu culture. They envisage human society free from narrow or aggressive mentalities, recognize the kinhood of the entire race of man and consider the whole world as one family. I had, therefore, been intensely proud of Hinduism as a whole. As I grew up I developed a tendency to free thinking unfettered by any superstitious allegiance to any isms, political or religious. All the evils which have crept into Hindu society, in particular the caste system and untouchability, I came to regard as excrescences and aberrations from the lofty conceptions of human relationship inherited by me from my faith: “treat the whole world as your family,” which Hinduism enjoins.
That is why I worked for the eradication of untouchability and the caste system based on birth alone. I openly joined anti-caste movements and maintained that all Hindus were of equal status as to rights, social and religious, and should be considered high or low on merit alone and not through the accident of birth in a particular caste or profession. I used publicly to take part in organized anti-caste dinners in which thousands of Hindus, Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas, Chamars and Bhangis participated. We broke the caste rules and dined in the company of each other.
We used to read the speeches and writings of Dadabhai Naoroji, Vivekan-and, Gokhale, Tilak, along with the books of ancient and modem history of India and some prominent countries in the world like England, France, America and Russia. Moreover I studied the tenets of Socialism and Marxism. But above all I studied very closely whatever Veer Savarkar and Gandhiji had written and spoken, as to my mind these two ideologies have contributed more to the moulding of the thought and action of the Indian people during the last thirty years or so, than any other single factor has done.
My study of men and things led me to believe it was my first duty to serve Hindudom and Hindus both as a patriot and as a world citizen, not in antagonism, however, to my non-Hindu fellow citizens, but as part of the whole. To secure the freedom and to safeguard the just interests of some thirty crores of Hindus would automatically constitute the freedom and the well-being of all India, one fifth of the human race. This conviction led me naturally to devote myself to the Hindu Sanatanist ideology and programme, which alone, I came to believe, could win and preserve the national independence of Hindustan, my Motherland, and enable her to render true service to humanity as well.
* * *
Since the year 1920, that is, after the demise of Lokamanya Tilak, Gandhi’s influence in the Congress first increased and then became supreme. His activities for public awakening were phenomenal in their intensity and were reinforced by the slogan of truth and non-violence which he paraded ostentatiously before the country. No sensible or enlightened person could object to these slogans. In fact there is nothing new or original in them. They are implicit in every constitutional public movement. It will, however, be an error—sometimes a dangerous one—to imagine that the bulk of mankind is, or can ever become, capable of scrupulous adherence to these lofty principles in its normal life from day to day. In fact, honour, duty, and love of one’s own kith and kin and country might often compel us to disregard non-violence and to use force. I could never conceive that an armed resistance to an aggression is either wrong or immoral where one has to fight an enemy who is violent, aggressive or unjust. I would consider it a religious and moral duty to resist and, if possible, to overpower such an enemy by use of force. Shri Ra
mchandra killed Ravana in a tumultuous fight and relieved Sita. Shri Krishna killed Kansa to end his wickedness. In the Mahabharata Arjuna had to fight and slay quite a number of his friends and relations including the revered Bhishma. Drona, his preceptor, had to succumb to the arrows of Arjuna. It is my firm belief that in dubbing Krishna and Arjuna as guilty of violence, the Mahatma betrayed a total ignorance of the springs of human action.
* * *
The accumulating provocation of thirty-two years, culminating in his last pro-Muslim fast, at last goaded me to the conclusion that the existence of Gandhi should be brought to an end immediately. Gandhi had done very good work in South Africa to uphold the lights and self-respect of the Indian community there. But on coming back to India he developed a subjective mentality under which he alone was to be the final judge of what was right or wrong. If the country wanted his leadership, it had to accept his infallibility; if it did not, he would stand aloof from the Congress and carry on in his own way. Against such an attitude there can be no halfway house. Either Congress had to surrender its will to his and had to be content with playing second fiddle to all his eccentricity, whimsicality, metaphysics and primitive vision, or it had to carry on without him. He alone was the judge of everyone and everything; he was the master brain guiding the civil disobedience movement; no other could know the technique of that movement. He alone knew when to begin it and when to withdraw it. The movement might succeed or fail, it might bring untold disaster and political reverses but that could make no difference to the Mahatma’s infallibility. “A Satyagrahi can never fail” was his formula for declaring his own infallibility and nobody except himself knew what a Satyagrahi is.
Thus the Mahatma became the judge and jury in his own cause. These childish insanities and obstinacies, coupled with a most severe austerity of life, ceaseless work and lofty character made Gandhi formidable and irresistible. Many people thought that his politics were irrational but they had either to withdraw from the Congress or place their intelligence at his feet to do with as he liked. In a position of such absolute irresponsibility Gandhi was guilty of blunder after blunder, failure after failure, disaster after disaster.
* * *
Only on the rarest occasions did the Mahatma have a dim glimpse of the error of his policy. He then admitted his Himalayan blunders but continued in his ways. In his prayer speech on November 5, 1947, Mahatma Gandhi said: “I confess my own impotence in that my words lack the strength, that perfect mastery over self as described in the concluding lines of the second chapter of the Gita. I pray and invite the audience to pray with me to God that if it pleases Him, He may arm me with the qualifications I have just described.”
Why did this great power decline? It is my deep conviction that the decline was due to its misuse. It is common knowledge that spiritual power which can be acquired by the scientific yogi process laid down by our great seers always declines if prostituted to worldly purposes. By making right use of the power he acquired Mahatma Gandhi might have raised our country to the pinnacle of greatness and glory. As it is he brought untold miseries and indescribable tragedies on the country, the end of which is hardly yet in sight.
* * *
Briefly speaking, I thought to myself and foresaw that I shall be totally ruined, and the only thing I could expect from the people would be nothing but hatred and that I shall have lost all my honour, even more valuable than my life, if I were to kill Gandhiji. But at the same time I felt that the Indian politics in the absence of Gandhiji would surely be practical, able to retaliate, and would be powerful with armed forces. No doubt, my own future would be totally ruined, but the nation would be saved from the inroads of Pakistan. People may even call me and dub me as devoid of any sense or foolish, but the nation would be free to follow the course founded on reason which I consider to be necessary for sound nation-building. After having fully considered the question, I took the final decision in the matter, but I did not speak about it to anyone whatsoever. I took courage in both my hands and I did fire the shots at Gandhiji, on 30th January 1948, on the prayer-grounds in Birla House.
* * *
My respect for the Mahatma was deep and deathless. It therefore gave me no pleasure to kill him. Indeed my feelings were like those of Arjuna when he killed Dronacharya, his Guru at whose feet he had learnt the art of war. But the Guru had taken the side of the wicked Kauravas and for that reason he felt no compunction in finishing his revered Guru. Before doing so, however, he first threw an arrow at the feet of Dronacharya as a mark of respect for the Guru; the second arrow he aimed at the chest of the Guru and finished him. My feelings towards Gandhi were similar. I hold him first in the highest respect and therefore on January 30, I bowed to him first, then at point blank range fired three successive shots and killed him. My provocation was his con-stant and consistent pandering to the Muslims. I had no private grudge, no self-interest, no sordid motive in killing him. It was his provocation, over a period of twenty years, which finally exhausted my patience; and my inner voice urged me to kill him, which I did I am not asking for any mercy.
I declare here before man and God that in putting an end to Gandhi’s life I have removed one who was a curse to India, a force for evil, and who had, during thirty years of an egotistic pursuit of hare-brained policy, brought nothing but misery and unhappiness, not merely to the Hindus, who to their cost know it too well, but to the Muslims who also will soon realize the truth of my submission. I will gladly accept whatever judgment you might be pleased to pass and whatever sentence you pronounce on me. I am prepared for death with no consciousness of guilt. I am at complete peace with my maker. I do not claim to be a heretic nor am I a villain. I maintain that I had no sordid motive, no private revenge, no selfish interest to serve by killing a political and ethical imposter and a traitor to his faith and his country. Such a man I thought was unfitted to be the leader of a country of three hundred and thirty million human beings.
I became exasperated. I saw before me the tragedy unending and certain prospect of an internecine war in India so long as Gandhi had the run of things. I felt convinced that such a man was the greatest enemy, not only of the Hindus, but of the whole nation. I therefore decided that he should not live any more to continue his career of mischief, and I made up my mind to remove him from the scene of his misdirected activity. I therefore killed him. But mine was not an act based on any sordid motive. I have no private grudge against him. I had no old scores to settle. I only considered the future of our nation. I am sorry for what I had to do under a compelling sense of duty to my country. I now stand before you, Mr. Atma Charan, to accept the full share of my responsibility for what I have done. As I have already stated I am sorry for what I had to do in response to an insistent call from the depths of my soul, but I do not regret having done it. I place my neck at the service of my mother country and willingly go to my maker to receive judgment for my conduct. I do not think that the Nehru government will understand me, but I have little doubt that history will give me justice and I am content with that prospect.
Standing on the borderline that divides this life from the life beyond, I warn my country against the pest of Gandhism. It will mean not only Muslim rule over the entire country but the extinction of Hinduism itself. There are pessimists who say that the great Hindu nation, after tens of thousands of years, is doomed to extinction. Had I believed in this pessimism, I would not have sacrificed my life for its sake. I believe in Lord Krishna’s promise that whenever religion is in danger and contrary forces raise their head, I shall assume incarnation for the re-establishment of the religion. I believe with the poet prophet Jayadeva that in the tenth incarnation the Lord Almighty will act through human beings.
I assassinated Gandhi not with any earthly selfish motive but as a sacred duty dictated by the pure love of my motherland. Even when I did the act, I knew the consequences. I felt the rough hand of the hangman on my shoulder, the cold loop of his rope around my neck. But that could not swerve me from my mission
, nor did I want, or try, to escape the consequences. If my people can appreciate my motive, I am prepared, rather eager, to die a happy and pleasant death.
As Godse spoke in that bare, ugly courtroom in the Red Fort, he was well aware that he was not making an ordinary speech in defense of an ordinary crime. He was speaking as though the ancient Indian gods were present, their tremendous presences dominating the scene. The great battles between the Kaurava and Pandava princes were being fought again; and the great sermon spoken by Krishna to Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita was implicit throughout the argument. People had wondered why he had knelt before Gandhi before firing the fatal shots, and he explained quietly that he was re-enacting the drama of Arjuna, who first aimed an arrow at the feet of Dronacharya and then a second into his chest. Dronacharya had been the tutor of the Kaurava and Pandava princes, teaching them the art of war. There came a time when the princes could no longer tolerate the supremacy of their teacher, and Arjuna had therefore taken upon himself the task of killing him, but with sorrow and lamentation.
All the mythological characters mentioned by Nathuram Godse in his speech—Rama, Krishna, Bhishma, Kansa, Arjuna and Dronacharya— were warriors who took part in the great battle on the fields of Kuruk-shetra. It was as though mythology held him by the throat, and there was no escape from it. The interminable bloodletting which accompanied the partition of India had taken place on some mythological Kurukshetra of the imagination, and he saw himself as Arjuna, the hero who must put an end to the war. He was not the only Indian who thought the battles of ancient times were being repeated. So great and terrible was the war between the Hindus and the Muslims that many thought they had escaped out of history altogether. India seemed to be entering an apocalyptic age: the earth shuddering, while the lightning played on the faces of the heroes and the armies marched in silence and despair across the shadowy plains.