Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel

by B Krishna

  Babar Deva was required to report every morning and evening to the police station. For failure to do so one morning, he was arrested and sentenced to six months’ imprisonment.

  Since he was a scrupulously honest man, his pride was deeply hurt, and on escaping from prison, he turned into an outlaw. Anyone reporting his whereabouts was brutally dealt with. Some had their noses cut off while others were nailed to trees. He did not even spare his wife whom he suspected of betrayal. He committed no less than 22 murders. The police reportedly gave names of informants to Babar Deva. In order to arrest him, the police colluded with the other dacoit, Ali, by supplying him firearms. In return, the police got a share of the booty. Unchecked, Babar Deva and his gang roamed about in the countryside on horseback spreading terror.

  Imposition of the punitive tax was a decision of the superintendent of police, not of the collector. The mamlatdar had reported that the villagers were too poor to pay the tax. He had also confirmed: “No villager seems willing for the continuance of the additional police in the villages.” The collector supported the mamlatdar and communicated his concurrence to the commissioner. But the latter overruled both and sided with the superintendent of police. Patel ridiculed the whole affair with the caustic remark:

  When Babar could not be got hold of, the police made friends with this new genius [Ali], and sought to get rid of an outlaw with the help of another outlaw, and provided him with arms and ammunition. Oh, the pity and the shame of it! The Government ceased to rule, making room for the outlaw. Who is going to punish the Government for having leagued with this outlaw? God alone! The Government surely knows what number of murders and dacoities Ali has committed, having been armed by the Government itself . . . I hold the Government responsible for all the misdeeds of that miscreant Ali.

  Patel added:

  Babar has to his credit twenty-two murders. Not one of the victims was a rich man. He did not murder them for the mere fun of it. He murdered them as they were informants. After twenty-two such informants have been murdered, can the Government seriously argue that the people do not give information? Shall we ask how many policemen were murdered? An informant was crucified to a tree by Babar . . . A first-class magistrate was waylaid by an outlaw on his way from Wasad to Borsad. The outlaw gave a smack on his face, and wrested the rifle from his hands. The poor fellow had to plead that he was an ordinary clerk and not a magistrate in order to escape with his life! A Government with such a magistracy has no title to exist, and has surely no title to punish a people.

  Patel also stated:

  My information is that every petty village officer knows the whereabouts of these outlaws, but is afraid of them . . . What then should you do? Do not for a moment think that you are fighting for the paltry amount of two rupees and seven annas . . . You have been fined because of your complicity in the crime; because you are suspected of sheltering the outlaws and befriending them. I ask you to fight only if you are convinced that no power on earth has the right to impugn your character . . . We shall not recognise the police. Let us have our own volunteer corps. I ask you to raise a corps from among yourselves.1

  Patel disclosed that he possessed a secret circular issued by the district superintendent of police, advising all sub-inspectors and head constables “to turn a blind eye to dacoities and offences committed by Ali, as he had undertaken to assist in the arrest of Babar Deva”.2

  Patel drew up the battle line, dividing his volunteer corps into platoons. Each was to non-violently defend a group of villages. He made Borsad his headquarters, from where he conducted his satyagraha. He built up the morale of the people through regular issue of leaflets, which carried his instructions in regard to what they were supposed to do from time to time, what sort of vigilance they were required to maintain, and, above all, how they were to maintain unity among the ranks.

  Patel forewarned the villagers:

  The Government will confiscate your property, take away your cattle and will have no hesitation in attaching for the recovery of Rs. 2.50 property worth Rs. 25,000. All that you should bear patiently. Under no circumstance should you pay a pie or react violently. The Government has adopted for itself the untruthful and dishonest path. Truth is on your side. If you adhere to the principle of non-violence, you are bound to succeed. Anyone who is honest and who practises non-violence can never lose.3

  The government started attachment of property in all seriousness. The mamlatdar and his staff devoted themselves fulltime to the new task. Non-violent defence organised by Patel’s “platoons” reduced official operations to a comic drama. A volunteer was stationed atop a tree at the village entrance. On sighting an attachment party, he would beat a drum, and thereby signal the menfolk to make haste to lock up their houses with womenfolk inside, so as to avoid attachment, and to take their cattle outside the village for grazing. Only present to welcome the attachment party were the urchins, who would follow it shouting and creating all sorts of exasperatingly ludicrous scenes.

  Village after village presented a picture of desolation during the day with houses locked. At night, life returned to normal— houses opened and lighted, market place bustling with activity, and women wending their way to fetch water after dark. This was because attachments could not be carried out under law after sunset. The governor, Leslie Wilson, a liberal, felt upset by the allegations of complicity with the dacoits being publicly made against the government. He asked his home member, Maurice Hayward, to conduct an on-the-spot inquiry. Hayward reached Borsad on 4 January 1924. Besides his meetings with the commissioner, the collector, and other officials, he held an open court to which were invited some 150 selected men. After hearing all concerned, and convinced of the righteousness of the fight, he ordered immediate stoppage of attachment of property. On his return to Bombay, the government announced:

  The Governor-in-Council has resolved that the cost of the extra police, who have already been enlisted in, shall be met during the current year from general revenues and that the Legislative Council shall be asked to vote funds for the continuance of operations during the next financial year . . . The Governor-in-Council believes that the people of Borsad . . . will respond to this policy of liberality by cordial assistance and cooperation in the further operations necessary for suppressing the violent crimes from which their taluka has so long suffered.4

  Fully vindicated, Patel ordered immediate withdrawal of the satyagraha, stating:

  Once again there has been a triumph of Truth, nonviolence and penance. This victory has been as quick as our struggle was just. It is unique in that both the parties have won. The Government has admitted its mistake openly and with courage . . . We would be failing in our duty if we did not congratulate most sincerely His Excellency the Governor of Bombay, Leslie Wilson, for showing so much moral courage . . . Our victory lies in the Government’s withdrawal of the charge made against us.5

  More than 30,000 people joined the victory celebrations held in Borsad on 12 January. People came even from Ahmedabad and Mumbai. The presence of women electrified the atmosphere. Men added colour of their own: “Patidars, confident of their achievement and of their importance; fine, well-built Baraiyas and Patanwadias with their long sticks and their hubble-bubbles, and Garasias with large turbans.” Addressing them, Patel said: “During this short struggle, you have made great sacrifices. You have exhibited great courage, maintained unity, and shown great enthusiasm. We have gained this victory because we walked along the path shown by the great saint who is now in jail.”

  Gandhi wrote in Young India: “These achievements [in Kheda and Borsad] are a great tribute to Vallabhbhai’s magnificent organising and administrative ability. And he has collected around him in the process a band of devoted workers of like mind and ability. The Borsad satyagraha is a magnificent example of public activity governed wholly by public consideration.”6

  Lenin of Bardoli

  The Bardoli satyagraha occupies a unique position in India’s struggle for freedom. Its sole leader, P
atel, received rich tributes from Gandhi: “Vallabhbhai found his Vallabh [God] in Bardoli.”1 For leading over 87,000 highly disciplined, non-violent peasants, the British-owned Times of India wrote that in Bardoli, Patel had “instituted a Bolshevik regime in which he plays the role of Lenin”.2 As a true Gandhian, he led a weaponless army of satyagrahis with a farmer’s staff in hand, wearing a peasant’s crude countrymade pair of chappals, jubba (waistcoat), and dhoti made from coarse, handspun khadi. His heavy moustache and stern looks gave him the appearance of a Bismarck.

  In Bardoli, the unjustified enhancement of land revenue by 30% in 1926 made the peasants seethe with discontent. H. B. Shivdasani (ICS), a former revenue officer, described it as “not fair”. The matter could not be taken to the court, as judicial representation was debarred by the Bombay Revenue Jurisdiction Act. A member of the Bombay Legislative Council complained: “So far as the administration of the land revenue system is concerned, the reforms have proved to be a curse. The doors of the law courts are barred . . . by statute; the Government of India’s powers of interference are considerably limited . . . Land revenue is a provincial subject and also a reserved subject . . . local Governments possess acknowledged authority of their own.”3

  The revenue settlement of 1926-27 contradicted the assessment of the settlement commissioner in 1896. He had admitted that “the general conclusion from all recorded statistics is that the taluka [of Bardoli] in 1896 was either over assessed or assessed right up to the full limit of half the rental value”.4 In 1900-01, G. V. Joshi had proved that the incidence of land revenue on population in the Bombay Presidency was far heavier than in any other Indian province (as much as Rs. 2.00 per head of population); the incidence on cultivated acreage was the highest in the Gujarat districts (as much as Rs. 4.00 per acre); and that in Surat district, of which Bardoli was a part, it was the highest in Gujarat—as much as Rs. 5.90 per acre.

  The revenue settlement of 1926-27 was also in contradiction of what the British Joint Parliamentary Committee had observed in 1919: “The process of revising land revenue assessments ought to be brought under closer regulation by statute as soon as possible . . . the people who are most affected have no voice in the shaping of the system, and the rules are often obscure and imperfectly understood by those who pay the revenue.” In 1924 the Bombay Legislative Council likewise recommended: “No revision be proceeded with and no new rates under any revised settlement be introduced till the said legislation is brought into effect.”5 In 1927, the council, by a majority vote (52 against 29) reiterated its 1924 recommendation. The provincial government, however, authorised the action taken by the settlement commissioner. The government of India extended its support to the provincial government. The latter, ultimately, decided on a 22% increase in the revenue, and ordered collection of the enhanced land revenue from 5 February 1928.

  Anxious to seek a peaceful settlement, Patel sought a meeting with the governor, Leslie Wilson, whose high praise he had won earlier for outstanding work done during the Gujarat floods. Wilson merely passed on Patel’s letter to the revenue department for “official consideration and disposal”. Since no ground was left for compromise, Patel took command of the satyagraha but told the peasants:

  I still ask you to think twice before you take the plunge. Do not derive comfort from the feeling that you have as your leader a fighter like me. Forget me and forget my companions. Fight, if you feel that you must resist oppression and injustice. Do not take the plunge lightly. If you fail, you will not rise again for several years. If you succeed, you will have done much to lay the foundations of swaraj.”6

  Patel added:

  We have done everything we could. Now there remains only one way open to us: to oppose force with force. The Government has all the paraphernalia of authority and has the physical strength of the armed forces. You have the strength of Truth and your capacity to endure pain . . . The Government’s stand is unjust. It is your duty to oppose it . . . This is not merely a question of an increase of a lakh of rupees or so, or of 37 lakh in 30 years, but a question of Truth and falsehood—a question of self-respect.7

  The conference passed a resolution, which was supported by representatives of the villages and various communities in the taluka—Patidars, Vanias, Christians, Parsis, Muslims, and backward classes. It stated: “This conference of the people of Bardoli taluka resolves that the revised settlement . . . is arbitrary, unjust and oppressive, and advises all the occupants to refuse payment of the revised assessment until the Government is prepared to accept the amount of the old assessment in full satisfaction of its dues, or until the Government appoints an impartial tribunal to settle the whole question of revision by investigation and inquiry on the spot.”8

  The government was alarmed by the new spirit of rebellion that swept Bardoli. The commissioner of the Northern Division, W. W. Smart, was asked to camp at Surat, so as to be 15 to 20 miles from Bardoli town, while the district collector was asked to reach Bardoli immediately. On arrival, he had a chilling welcome: all the shops were shut and doors of all houses were closed. It was total boycott. He got no conveyance to go to a nearby village, Sarbhon, which he managed to reach with great difficulty. The village patel (headman) told him: “The people will not listen to us. They are indifferent to forfeitures and confiscations.”9 Annoyed, he ordered the talatis to prepare plans for auction of land and seizure of buffaloes. For implementation, “a number of Pathans of questionable character were brought in from Bombay”.

  Patel had organised the satyagraha on military lines. As supreme commander or senapati, he had under him sector commanders or vibhagpatis. Under each commander were volunteers called sainiks or soldiers. The battlefield covered about 92 villages. He had horse-riders to bring him messages from the remotest ones. The battle itself involved over 87,000 peasants from the Bardoli taluka and Valod Mahal. Operationwise, there were 18 sectors, 12 being in the former and 6 in the latter. Bardoli was the HQ of the supreme commander, who had, like a general, his personal staff: personal secretary to conduct his correspondence, as also to look after dissemination of war information; master of ceremonies to programme his movements; and editor of publications, patrikapati. There was an ambassador, who toured India to brief opinion-builders like Tej Bahadur Sapru, M. R. Jayakar, Srinivasa Sastri and others.

  A war bulletin, Larat-ni-Patrika, carrying Patel’s speeches and satyagraha news, was published daily and distributed among the Bardoli peasants, as also among others outside Bardoli. Hand-written copy would reach Surat before midnight, and the following morning the Tapti Valley railway would carry bundles of printed copies, which volunteers would collect at different stations en route, and take at galloping speed to “the villagers waiting anxiously for the Patrika every morning and devouring the contents with avidity”.10 From 5,000 copies at the start, the number soon rose to over 15,000. More than 10,000 copies were distributed in Bardoli alone. Outside Bardoli, every important Gujarat town and village received the war bulletin. To sustain the peasants’ enthusiasm, Patel organised a bhajan mandli—a troupe of musicians, which went from village to village at night, singing national and religious songs. A story-teller regaled the peasants with inspiring anecdotes and sarcastic jibes. A women workers’ unit also moved among the village womenfolk to keep their spirits high.

  Peasants, along with their womenfolk, children, and their “beloved cattle” voluntarily locked themselves up in their small, dingy houses for over three months to avoid attachments by officials. K. M. Munshi gave an account of this to the governor:

  As I passed through villages—silent, empty and deserted with sentinels posted at different ends—I saw women peeping through barred windows, and on being reassured they opened the doors. I went inside and I saw the darkness, the stench, the filth, and men, women and children herded together for months in the same room with their beloved cattle—miserable, lacerated and grown pale with disease. As I heard their determination to remain in that condition for months rather than abandon their catt
le to the tender mercies of the japti [attachment officer], I could not help but think that the imagination which conceived the dire japti methods, the severity with which they were enforced and the inhuman policy they represented were difficult to find outside the pages of a history of medieval times . . . The cheap sneers of lofty bureaucrats, the disproportionately severe sentences for technical offences, the thunders of arrogant proclamations and the official sabre-rattlings have ceased to excite anything but ridicule.

  Munshi asked the governor to appreciate the reverence Patel enjoyed of such people. He told him:

  Your japti officer has to travel miles before he can get a shave. Your officer’s car which got stuck would have remained in the mud but for Vallabhbhai, officially styled “agitator living in Bardoli” . . . The Collector gets no conveyance at the railway station without Vallabhbhai’s sanction. In the few villages which I visited, not a man, or woman, was either sorry for the step taken or is shaken in his or her faith, and as Vallabhbhai passed through village after village, I saw men, women and children coming out to greet him in spontaneous homage. I saw illiterate women, old and young, in tatters, placing on his forehead the auspicious mark of victory (kum-kum), laying at his feet, for their sacred cause, their hard-earned rupee or two and singing in their rustic accents songs of “the misdeeds of the hapless Government”.11

  The modus operandi of Patel’s sainiks was similar to the one in the Borsad satyagraha. Since law did not permit attachment work after sunset, life returned to the villages after dark. With that would begin Patel’s operations. As supreme commander, he moved from village to village, addressing public meetings, or conferring with his sector commanders, or giving his volunteers instructions on the strategy to follow. Each night he covered a distance of 15 miles or more. A friend had placed at his disposal an old Ford motor-car. Roads being unmetalled and dusty, a light rain turned them slushy. Often the car would fail, or get stuck in the mud. Patel, not minding his status or age, would get down, and along with others, push it to make it run again. He would return to his HQ not before daybreak. And before going to bed, he would attend to dispatches received from his sector commanders, and reports brought from government offices by his informants.