OXFORD INDIA PAPERBACK

Netaji: Collected Works

Volume t

An Indian Pilgrim
An Unfinished Autobiography
 Netaji: Collected Works
Volume 1

An Indian Pilgrim
An Unfinished Autobiography

Subhas Chandra Bose

edited by
Sisir Kumar Bose
and
Sugata Bose

NETAJI RESEARCH BUREAU, CALCUTTA

DELHI
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
CALCUTTA CHENNAI MUMBAI
1997
Oxford University Press, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford 0x2 6dp
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© Netaji Research Bureau 1997

ISBN 0 19 564148 5

Printed in India at Pauls Press, New Delhi 110020

and published for the Netaji Research Bureau,
(38/2 Lala Lajpat Rai Road, Calcutta 700026)
by Manzar Khan, Oxford University Press
YMCA Library Building, Jai Singh Road, New Delhi 110001
 Acknowledgements

We would like to thank Professor Krishna Bose and Professor

Leonard A. Gordon for editorial advice, Mr Kartic Chakraborty
for secretarial assistance, Mr Naga Sundaram for archival
support and Manohar Mandal and Munshi for unstinted, prac¬
tical help in running the Bureau’s publication division. We
wish also to record our gratitude to Oxford University Press
for their speedy and efficient handling of the publication
process.
We take this opportunity once again to express our deep
appreciation to Netaji’s wife Emilie Schenkl and their daughter
Anita Pfaff for having generously assigned the copyright in
Netaji’s works to the Netaji Research Bureau.

Sisir K. Bose
Sugata Bose
 Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2018 with funding from
Public.Resource.Org

https://archive.org/details/indianpilgrimunf01subh
 CONTENTS

Editors’ Introduction

Part I

AN INDIAN PILGRIM

Chapter I Birth, Parentage and Early

Environment . . 3- 6
Chapter II Family History . . 7- 13
Chapter III Before My Time . . 14- 20
Chapter IV At School (1) 21- 28
Chapter V At School (2) . . 29- 50
Chapter VI Presidency College (1) . . 51- 71
Chapter VII Presidency College (2) . . 72- 80
Chapter VIII My Studies Resumed . . 81- 95
Chapter IX At Cambridge . . 96-117
Chapter X My Faith (Philosophical) . . 118-124

Part II

LETTERS 1912—1921

Letter(s) 1-9 to Prahhabati Bose . . 128-148

10-13 Sarat Chandra Bose . . 148-156
14-44 Hemanta Kumar Sarkar . . 157-189
45 Bliolanath Roy . . 189-190
46 Hemanta Kumar Sarkar . . 190-191
47 Bholanath Roy . . 191
48 Hemanta Kumar Sarkar . . 192
 Vlll

Letter (s) 49 Jogendra Narayan Mitra 192-193.

50-51 Hemanta Kumar Sarkar 194-195
52 Jogendra Narayan Mitra 196
53-58 Hemanta Kumar Sarkar 196-205
59 Charu Chandra Ganguly 205-206
60 Sarat Chandra Bose 206-209
61-62 Deshbandhu Chittaranfan Das.. 210-217
63-66 Sarat Chandra Bose 217-229'
67 E. S. Montagu 229
68 Charu Chandra Ganguly 230
69-70 Sarat Chandra Bose 230-237

Part III

APPENDICES
Appendix 1 : Genealogical Tree of the Boses
of Mahinagar .. 240-241
Appendix 2 : Genealogical Tree of the Dutts of
Hatkhola .. 242-243
Appendix 3 : Janaki Nath Bose: A Brief Life
Sketch .. 244-246
Appendix 4 : Purandar Khan and Mahinagar
Samaj .. 247-253
Appendix 5 : Discipline in Presidency College .. 254-266
Appendix 6 : The Presidency College Trouble:
A True Version .. 267-268
Appendix 7 : Subhas Chandra Bose (A Poem
by Oaten) 269*
Appendix 8 : Scottish Church College Philo¬
sophical Society .. 270-272
References and Glossary .. 273-276
Index .. 277-280
 IX

ILLUSTRATIONS

Frontispiece : Netaji in Badgastein, Austria, in 1937 when

he wrote An Indian Pilgrim

Father Janakinath facing page 8

Mother Prabhabati facing page 9
Family photograph at Cuttack—Netaji
then a schoolboy, standing on extreme
right facing page 48
A page from a letter to his mother 1912 facing page 49
As a High School Student facing page 88
The University Unit of India
Defence Force 1917, Netaji standing
second from right facing page 89
Sarat Chandra Bose as a law student
in England 1913 facing page 208
A page from a letter to brother
Sarat Chandra then in England 1913 facing page 209
Letter of resignation from the Indian
Civil Service facing page 232
As a student in England 1920 facing page 233
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 EDITORS’ INTRODUCTION

Sisir K. Bose and Sugata Bose

‘How many selfless sons of the Mother are prepared, in this

selfish age,’ the fifteen-year old Subhas asked his mother in
1912, ‘to completely give up their personal interests and take
the plunge for the Mother? Mother, is this son of yours yet
ready?’ As he stood on the verge of taking the plunge by resign¬
ing from the Indian Civil Service, he wrote to his elder brother
Sarat on 6 April 1921: ‘I know what this sacrifice means. It
means poverty, suffering, hard work and possibly other
hardships to which I need not expressly refer but which you
can very well understand. But the sacrifice has got to be made—
consciously and deliberately. Father says that most of the
so-called leaders are not really unselfish. But is that any reason
why he should prevent me from being unselfish?’ An over¬
powering sense of mission impelled the young Subhas Chandra
Bose to set an early example of leadership as he dedicated
himself to a life of selfless service.
Subhas joined the freedom struggle as a lieutenant of Desh-
bandhu Chittaranjan Das when the non-cooperation movement
of 1921 was at its height. After sixteen years of tireless work,
several prison terms and long periods of exile he was chosen
by Mahatma Gandhi to be the President of the Indian National
Congress for 1938. Gandhi’s choice became known at the time
of the Calcutta meeting of the All India Congress Committee
in October 1937. With the Mahatma’s blessings Subhas decided
to go on a trip to Europe before taking up his duties as Congress
President. He spent more than a month from late November
1937 to early January 1938 with Emilie Schenkl at his favourite
health resort Badgastein in Austria. There in the course of
ten days in December 1937 he wrote ten chapters of his un¬
finished autobiography.
The handwritten manuscript is now preserved in the ar¬
chives of the Netaji Research Bureau. This narrative of the
 • •

Xll EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION

first twenty-four years of Bose’s life ends with his resignation

from the I.C.S. in April 1921. It is not often that remembrances
written later in life can be read together with primary source
materials, including letters and notes, of the earlier, formative
phase. This book is designed to provide the reader with that
rare, double first-person perspective. The unfinished autobiog¬
raphy published as Part 1 is complemented in Part 2 with a
fascinating collection of seventy letters of his childhood, adoles¬
cence and youth. This volume thus supplies the material with
which to commence the study of the socio-cultural environment
in which Subhas Chandra Bose grew up and the lineaments
of his mental and intellectual development. The reader will
gain a real insight into the influences—religious, cultural,
moral, intellectual and political—that moulded the character
and personality of India’s foremost radical nationalist. Both
the autobiography and the letters are marked by a lucidity
and directness which make the basic currents of the author’s
unorthodox and rebellious life easier to comprehend. Moreover,
the letters, which constitute the contemporary material, show
an uninhibited play of opinions, emotions and ideas lending
greater depth to the conclusions and inferences drawn in the
autobiography.
Bose was able to write only the first nine chapters of the
chronological narrative of his autobiography in December 1937.
He was elected Congress President soon after and could not
complete the work in the midst of a hectic and tumultuous
public life. However, that he intended to write a complete
autobiography is clear from the notes he made on the first
page of the original manuscript indicating the plan he had in
mind. The notes are as follows:
1. Birth—parentage—family history
2. School Education (a) P E School (b) R C School

3. College 1913-16—1916-17—1917-19 Scottish C. College

1919—Experimental Psychology
4. 1919-21—Cambridge
5. 1921-23
6. 1924-27 Burma etc.
7. 1927-29
8. 1929-31
 EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION xm
9. 1929-31
10.1932-1933—February
11. 1933-36—March—interlude in India
12. 1936-1937 March
13. 1937 March-December
The significance of this overall plan will be evident to those
who turn to Netaji’s Collected Works published in twelve
volumes.1 2 Subhas Chandra Bose wrote a separate, analytical
account of the independence movement from 1920 to 1942 in
two stages—in 1934 and 1942—under the title The Indian
Struggle 2 Even though this was not an autobiography, Netaji’s
personal involvement in the struggle was so complete that
the process of his own development can be discerned by the
careful reader in his rendering of the history of the nationalist
movement.
As he was writing the early part of An Indian Pilgrim in
Austria, he expressed his intention to write three chapters
on his fundamental beliefs titled £My faith—philosophical’, ‘My
faith—political’ and ‘My faith—economic’. These were to form
the last three chapters of his complete autobiography. Of these
he was able to write only one which forms Chapter 10 of Part
1 of this volume. He attempted to sum up his philosophical
ideas in a short article entitled ‘My personal testament’ which
he drafted three years later in the Presidency Jail, Calcutta,
in November 1940. This we have included in volume 10 of
the Collected, Works.
The tone and trend of the letters in Part 2 of this volume
deserve a comment. It has been already said that they are
complementary to the autobiography. The very early letters
to his mother Prabhabati and his elder brother Sarat Chandra
bring to light, as nothing else could, the springs of his idealism

1 See Sisir K. Bose (ed.), Netaji Collected Works vols 3-5 (Calcutta: Netaji
Research Bureau, 1984-1988); Sisir K. Bose and Sugata Bose (eds), Netaji
Collected Works vol 6 (Calcutta: Netaji Research Bureau, 1989); Sisir K. Bose
and Sugata Bose (eds), Netaji Collected Works vols 7-9 (Calcutta: Netaji
Research Bureau and Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1994-1996) and Sisir
K. Bose and Sugata Bose (eds), Netaji Collected Works vols 10-12 (Calcutta:
Netaji Research Bureau and Delhi: Oxford University Press, forthcoming).
2 See Sisir K. Bose and Sugata Bose (eds), Netaji Collected Works vol 2: The
Indian Struggle, 1920-1942 (Calcutta: Netaji Research Bureau and Delhi:
Oxford University Press, centenary edition, 1997).
XIV EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION

and missionary spirit. ‘India,’ Subhas Chandra Bose wrote to

his mother in 1912 when he was only fifteen years old, ‘is
God’s beloved land. He has been born in this great land in
every age in the form of the Saviour for the enlightenment
of the people, to rid this earth of sin and to establish righteous¬
ness and truth in every Indian heart. He has come into being
in many countries in human form but not so many times in
any other country—that is why I say, India, our motherland,
is God’s beloved land.’
Subhas’s ‘discovery of India’, unlike Jawaharlal Nehru’s,
occurred very early in his life when he was barely in his
teens. Born on 23 January 1897, he was deeply influenced by
the cultural and intellectual milieu of Bengal at the turn of
the century and grew up in harmony with the evolution of
India’s anti-colonial movement. In the course of his school
and college career he was in turn a pure humanitarian, a
paribrajaka and social reformer in the manner and spirit of
Vivekananda and eventually a political activist. As the letters
to his mother in 1912-13 reveal, his love for the country was
at this stage tinged with a religious sensibility and expressed
as devotion to the Mother. Yet he was dismayed at the current
state of both the country and of religion: ‘now, wherever religion
is practised there is so much bigotry and sin.’ He asked his
own mother, ‘Will the condition of our country continue to go
from bad to worse—will not any son of Mother India in distress,
in total disregard of his selfish interests, dedicate his whole
life to the cause of the Mother?’
The letters to his friends of student days expose the inner
struggles of a very sensitive and idealistic adolescent and youth.
These need to be read in context and the exaggerated asceticism
of his early youth should not lead to a misunderstanding of
the values he came to uphold later in life. Bose reflected back
on this turbulent period of his life in his autobiography with
a great deal of wit and detached humour. In his student days
he had believed that ‘conquest of sex was essential to spiritual
progress’. ‘As I have turned from a purely spiritual ideal to
a life of social service,’ he added in a note, ‘my views on sex
have undergone transformation.’
By the time Subhas graduated from Calcutta University in
1919 and set out to study philosophy in Cambridge and qualify
 EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION XV

for the Indian Civil Service, he already had a formed personality

and his sense of mission was not in doubt. That mission ad¬
mitted of no compromise. The letters to his elder brother Sarat
Chandra Bose during 1921, which he quoted extensively in
his unfinished autobiography of 1937, reveal what went through
his mind as he moved towards the decision to resign from the
I.C.S. These seven, remarkable letters were discovered along
with eighteen letters from Emilie Schenkl written in 1936-37
in a cigar box in 1980. He had evidently taken these letters
to Badgastein in November 1937 and brought them back with
him in January 1938. He told his brother of his decision ‘chuck
this rotten service’ and not to wear ‘the emblem of servitude’
as ‘national and spiritual aspirations’ were ‘not compatible
with obedience to Civil Service conditions’. He was inspired
at that time by the ideal of sacrifice set by Aurobindo Ghosh.
‘Only on the soil of sacrifice and suffering,’ he was convinced,
‘can we raise our national edifice.’
In the appendices we have included a number of supportive
documentary materials that strengthen the autobiographical
text as well as the letters. Apart from the genealogical tables,
there is a brief life-sketch of his father Janaki Nath Bose
written by Subhas himself and a very old article on Purandar
Khan and the Boses of Mahinagar by Nagendra Nath Bose.
Subhas drew from the latter article for his chapter on family
history. The report of the official enquiry committee on the
Oaten incidents and Subhas’s own short account of the first
Oaten incident should be read with his two chapters in his
autobiography on Presidency College. His minutes of the
Philosophical Society of Scottish Church College are significant
because it is known that his philosophical ideas began to ger¬
minate and take shape during his undergraduate studies there.
Professor Oaten’s poem on his former pupil is included on
account of its unusual human interest.
This book in its totality reveals that not only was Subhas’s
sense of mission fully formed by 1921 but that he had a clear
strategic sense of what was needed to win independence even
as he began his political life. ‘If the members of the services
withdraw their allegiance or even show a desire to do so,’ he
wrote to Sarat Chandra Bose on 6 April 1921, ‘—then and then
only will the bureaucratic machine collapse.’ Having himself
XVI EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION

refused to owe allegiance to the Civil Service in 1921, he em¬

barked on a mighty crusade in 1941 in an attempt to subvert
the loyalty of Indians to the armed services and replace it
with a new dedication to the cause of India’s freedom. As
Oaten wrote in 1947:
Let me recall but this, that while as yet
The Raj that you once challenged in your land
Was mighty; Icarus-like your courage planned
To mount the skies, and storm in battle set
The ramparts of High Heaven, to claim the debt
Of freedom owed, on plain and rude demand.
High Heaven yielded, but in dignity
Like Icarus, you sped towards the sea.
 Part I

AN INDIAN PILGRIM
 9! f ■
■

i:' 3 ^ S ISK Ig
 CHAPTER I

BIRTH, PARENTAGE AND EARLY ENVIRONMENT

My father, Janakinath Bose, had migrated to Orissa in the

eighties of the last century and had settled down at Cuttack
as a lawyer. There I was born on Saturday, the 23rd
January, 1897. My father was descended from the Boses
of Mahinagar, while my mother, Prabhabati (or rather
Prabhavati) belonged to the family of the Dutts of Hat-
khola. I was the sixth son and the ninth child of my parents.
In these days of rapid communication, a night’s
journey by train southwards along the eastern coast takes
one from Calcutta to Cuttack and on the way there is
neither adventure nor romance. But things were not quite
the same sixty years ago. One had to go either by cart
and encounter thieves and robbers on the road, or by sea
and brave the wrath of the winds and the waves. Since
it was safer to trust in God than in brother man, it was
more common to travel by boat. Sea-going vessels would
carry passengers up to Chandbali where transhipment
would take place and from Chandbali steamers would get
to Cuttack through a number of rivers and canals. The
description I .used to hear from my mother since childhood
of the rolling and pitching and the accompanying discom¬
fort during the voyage would leave no desire in me to
undergo such an experience. At a time when distances
were long and journey by no means safe, my father must
have had plenty of pluck to leave his village home and go
far away in search of a career. Fortune favours the brave
even in civil life and, by the time I was born, my father
had already made a position for himself and was almost
at the top of the legal profession in his new domicile.
Though a comparatively small town with a population
in the neighbourhood of 20,000, Cuttack 1 had an import-

1 Cuttack, under the Government of India Act, 1935, is the capital

of the new province of Orissa. Formerly, till 1905, along with Bihar, it
was a part of the Presidency of Bengal. Between 1905 and 1911 when
4 AN INDIAN PILCRIM

ance of its own owing to a variety of factors. It had an

unbroken tradition since the days of the early Hindu Kings
of Kalinga. It was de facto capital of Orissa which could
boast of such a famous place of pilgrimage as Puri (or
Jagannath) and such glorious art-relics as those of
Konarak, Bhuvaneswar, and Udaigiri. It was the head¬
quarters not only for the British administration in Orissa,
but also for the numerous ruling chiefs in that province.
Altogether, Cuttack afforded a healthy environment for the
growing child, and it had some of the virtues of both city
and country life.
Ours was not a rich but what might be regarded as
a well-to-do, middle-class family. Naturally, I had no per¬
sonal experience of what want and poverty meant and
had no occasion to develop those traits of selfishness, greed,
and the rest which are sometimes the unwelcome heritage
of indigent circumstances in one’s early life. At the same
time, there was not that luxury and lavishness in our
home which has been the ruin of so many promising but
pampered young souls or has helped to foster a super¬
cilious, high-brow mentality in them. In fact, considering
their worldly means my parents always erred—and, I dare
say, rightly too—on the side of simplicity in the upbringing
of their children.
The earliest recollection I have of myself is that I
used to feel like a thoroughly insignificant being. My
parents awed me to a degree. My father usually had a
cloak of reserve round him and kept his children at a
distance. What with his professional work and what with
his public duties, he did not have much time for his family.
The time he could spare was naturally divided among
his numerous sons and daughters. The youngest child
did, of course, come in for an extra dose of fondling, but
an addition to the family would soon rob it of its title to
special favour. And for the grown-ups it was difficult to

Bengal was partitioned, West Bengal, Bihar and Orissa formed one
province, while East Bengal and Assam formed another. After 1911 and
till quite recently, Bihar and Orissa together formed one province. West
and East Bengal have, since 1911, been re-united, while Assam and
the Bengali-speaking districts of Sylhet and Cachar have- been constituted
into a separate province.
 BIRTH, PARENTAGE AND EARLY ENVIRONMENT 5

discern whom father loved more, so strictly impartial he

appeared to be, whatever his inner feelings might have
been. And my mother? Though she was more humane
and it was not impossible at times to detect her bias, she
was also held in awe by most of her children. No doubt
she ruled the roost and, where family affairs were con¬
cerned, hers was usually the last word. She had a strong
will, and, when one added to that a keen sense of reality
and sound common-sense, it is easy to understand how
she could dominate the domestic scene. In spite of all the
respect I cherished for my parents since my early years,
I did yearn for a more intimate contact with them and
could not help envying those children who were lucky to
be on friendly terms with their parents. This desire pre¬
sumably arose out of a sensitive and emotional tempera¬
ment.
But to be overawed by my parents was not the only
tragedy. The presence of so many elder brothers and
sisters seemed to relegate me into utter insignificance.
That was perhaps all to the good. I started life with a
sense of diffidence—with a feeling that I should live up to
the level already attained by those who had preceded me.
For good or for ill, I was free from over-confidence or
cock-sureness. I lacked innate genius but had no tendency
to shirk hard work. I had, I believe, a subconscious feel¬
ing that for mediocre men industry and good behaviour
are the sole passports to success.
To be a member of a large family is, in many ways,
a drawback. One does not get the individual attention
which is often necessary in childhood. Moreover, one is
lost in a crowd as it were, and the growth of personality
suffers in consequence. On the other hand, one develops
sociability and overcomes self-centredness and angularity.
From infancy I was accustomed to living not merely in
the midst of a large number of sisters and brothers, but
also with uncles and cousins. The denotation of the word
'family’ was therefore automatically enlarged. What is
more, our house had always an open door for distant re¬
latives hailing from our ancestral village. And, in accord¬
ance with a long-standing Indian custom, any visitors to
 6 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

the town of Cuttack who bore the stamp of respectability

could—with or without an introduction—drive to our house
and expect to be put up there. Where the hotel-system
is not so much in vogue and decent hotels are lacking,
society has somehow to provide for a social need.
The largeness of our household was due not merely
to the size of the family, but to the number of dependents
and servants as well—and to the representatives of the
animal world—cows, horses, goats, sheep, deer, peacock,
birds, mongoose, ets. The servants were an institution by
themselves and formed an integral part of the household.
Most of them had been in service long before I was born
and some of them (e.g. the oldest maid-servant) were held
in respect by all of us.1 Commercialism had not then
permeated and distorted human relationship; so there was
considerable attachment between our servants and our¬
selves. This early experience shaped my subsequent
mental attitude towards servants as a class.
Though the family environment naturally helped to
broaden my mind, it could not, nevertheless, rid me of that
shy reserve which was to haunt me for years later and
which I doubt if I have yet been able to shake off. Per¬
haps I was and still remain an introvert.

Some of them have since retired from service and are enjoying
pensions, while others have died.
 CHAPTER II

FAMILY HISTORY f

The history of our family can be traced back for about 27

generations. The Boses* 1 are Kayastha2 by caste. The
founder of the Dakshin-Rarhi3 clan of the Boses was
one Dasaratha Bose, who had two sons, Krishna and
Parama. Parama went over to East Bengal and settled
there, while Krishna lived in West Bengal. One of the
great-great-grandsons of Dasaratha was Mukti Bose, who
resided at Mahinagar, a village about 14 miles to the south
of Calcutta, whence the family is now known as the Boses
of Mahinagar.4 Eleventh in decent from Dasaratha
was Mahipati, a man of outstanding ability and intelligence.
He attracted the attention of the then King of Bengal, who
appointed him as Minister for Finance and War. In appre¬
ciation of his services, the King who was Muslim by
religion, conferred on him the title of ‘Subuddhi Khan’.5
As was the prevailing custom, Mahipati was also given a
‘Jaigir’ (landed property) as a mark of royal favour and
the village of Subuddhipur, not far from Mahinagar, was
probably his jaigir. Of Mahipati’s ten sons, Ishan Khan,
who was the fourth, rose to eminence and maintained his
father’s position at the Royal Court. Ishan Khan had
three sons, all of whom received titles from the King. The
second son, Gopinath Bose, possessed extraordinary ability
f For some of the facts chronicled here I am indebted to Nagendra-
nath Bose, the well-known antiquarian and historian (see his article
on Purandar Khan in Kavastha Patrika, Bengali Monthly for Jaistha,
1335).
1 The original form in Sanskrit is Basil or rather Vasu. In common
parlance in Bengali, Vasu has become Bose.
2 The Kavasthas claim to be none other than Kshatriyas (i.e., warrior-
caste) in origin. According to popular usage, the Kayasthas are classified
among the (so-called) higher castes.
3 Dakshin-Rarhi probably means ‘South-BengaP.
4 From Calcutta Mahinagar can be reached via Chingripota, a station
on the Diamond Harbour Railway line.
5 It is interesting to note in this connection that the Muslim Kings
of Bengal used Sanskrit words in their titles. ‘Khan’ is of course a
typically Muslim title.
8 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

and prowess and was appointed Finance Minister and

Naval Commander by the then King, Sultan Hossain Shah
(1493-1519). He was rewarded with the title of Purandar
Khan and a jaigir, now known as Purandarpur, not far
from his native village of Mahinagar. In Purandarpur
there is a tank called ‘Khan Pukur’ (or Khan’s tank) which
is a relic of a one-mile long tank excavated by Purandar
Khan. The village of Malancha near Mahinagar has grown
on the site of Purandar’s Garden.
In those days the Hooghly flowed in the vicinity of
Mahinagar and it is said that Purandar used to travel by
boat to and from Gaud, the then capital of Bengal. He
built up a powerful navy which defended the kingdom
from external attack and was its commander.
Purandar also made his mark as a social reformer.
Before his time, according to the prevailing Ballali custom,
the two wings of the Kayastha—Kulin (who were the elite,
viz. the Boses, the Ghoses, and the Mitras) and Moulik
(the Dutts, the Deys, the Roys etc.)—did not, as a rule,
intermarry. Purandar laid down a new custom1 to the
effect that only the eldest issue of a Kulin need marry into a
Kulin family, while the others could marry Mouliks. This
custom, which has been generally followed till the present
day, saved the Kayastha from impending disaster—the
fruit of excessive inbreeding.
Purandar was also a man of letters. His name figures
among the composers of Padabali, the devotional songs of
the Vaishnavas.
Evidence is afforded by several Bengali poems, like
Kavirama’s ‘Raymangal’, that as late as 200 years ago, the
Hooghly (called in Bengali—Ganga) flowed by Mahinagar
and the neighbouring villages. (Even now, all tanks in the
former bed of the ‘Ganga’ are also called ‘Ganga’ by
courtesy, e.g. Bose‘s Ganga, meaning thereby Bose’s tank.)

1 Intercaste marriage which has been going on for the last 50 years
or more has considerably slackened existing caste rules. But in Purandar’s
time this move was regarded as revolutionary. The outstanding position
he had in special and public life enabled him to put through this measure
of reform. It is said that he invited over 100,000 Kavasthas to his
village to have the new code adopted by them. ‘Khan’s Pukur’ was
excavated on this occasion to supply pure drinking watei^ to this assembly.
-
 FAMILY HISTORY 9

The shifting of the river-bed struck a death blow at the

health and prosperity of these villages. Disturbance of the
drainage of the countryside was followed by epidemics,
which in turn forced a large section of the population to
migrate to other places. One branch of the Bose family—
the direct descendants of Purandar Khan—moved to the
adjoining village of Kodalia.
After a period of comparative silence, this neighbour¬
hood, containing the village of Kodalia, Chingripota, Hari-
navi, Malancha, Rajpur, etc. leapt into activity once again.
During the early decades of the nineteenth century there
was a remarkable cultural upheaval which continued till
the end of the century when once again the countryside
was devastated by epidemics—malaria carrying off the
palm this time. Today one has only to walk through these
desolated villages and observe huge mansions overgrown
with wild creepers standing in a dilapidated condition, in
order to realise the degree of prosperity and culture which
the neighbourhood must have enjoyed in the not distant
past. The scholars who appeared here about a century
ago were mostly men learned in the ancient lore of India,
but they were not obscurantists by any means. Some of
these Pundits were preceptors of the Brahmo Samaj, then
a revolutionary body from the sociocultural point of view,
while others were editors of secular journals printed in
Bengali which were playing an important part in creating
a new Bengali literature and in influencing contemporary
public affairs.
Pundit Ananda Chandra Vedantavageesh was the
editor of Tattwabodhini Patrika, an influential journal of
those days and also a preceptor of the Brahmo Samaj.
Pundit Dwarakanath Vidyabhusan was the editor of Som
Prakash, probably the first weekly journal to be printed
in the Bengali language. One of his nephews was Pundit
Shivanath Shastri, one of the outstanding personalities of
the Brahmo Samaj. Bharat Chandra Shiromani was one
of the authorities in Hindu Law, especially in the Bengal
school of Hindu Law called ‘Dayabhag’. Among the artists
could be named Kalikumar Chakravarti, a distinguished
painter, and among musicians, Aghor Chakravarti and
10 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

Kaliprasanna Bose. During the last few decades the loca¬

lity has played an important part in the nationalist move¬
ment. Influential Congressmen like Harikumar Chakra-
varti and Satkari Banerji (who died in the Deoli Detention
Camp in 1936) hail from this quarter, and no less a man
than Comrade M. N. Roy, of international fame, was born
•there.
To come back to our story, the Boses who migrated
to Kodalia must have been living there for at least ten
generations, for their genealogical tree is available.1 My
father was the thirteenth in descent from Purandar Khan
and twenty-sixth from Dasaratha Bose. My grandfather
Haranath had four sons, Jadunath, Kedarnath, Devendra-
nath, and Janakinath, my father. Though by tradition our
family was Shakta,2 Haranath was a pious and devoted
Vaishnava. The Vaishnavas being generally more non¬
violent in temperament, Haranath stopped the practice of
goat-sacrifice at the annual Durga Poojah (worship of God
as Divine Energy in the form of mother) which used to
be celebrated with great pomp every year-—Durga Poojah
being the most important festival of the Hindus of Bengal.
This innovation has been honoured till the present day,
though another branch of the Bose family living in the
same village still adheres to goat-sacrifice at the annual
Poojah.
Haranath’s four sons migrated to different places in
search of a career. The eldest Jadunath who worked in
the Imperial Secretariat had to spend a good portion of his
time in Simla. The second, Kedarnath, moved to Calcutta
permanently. The third, Devendranath, who joined the
educational service of the Government and rose to the rank
of Principal, had to move about from place to place and
after retirement settled down in Calcutta.
1 See Appendix 1.
2 The Hindus of Bengal were, broadly speaking, divided into two
schools or sects, Shakta and Vaishnava. Shaktas preferred to worship God
as Power or Energy in the form of Mother. The Vaishnavas worshipped
God as Love in the form of father and protector. The difference became
manifest at the ^time of initiation, or holv word’ which a Shakta received
from his guru, or preceptor, being different from what a Vaishnava
received from his guru. It was customary for a family to follow a
particular tradition for generations, though there was nothing to prevent
a change from one sect to the other.
 FAMILY HISTORY 11
My father was born on the 28th May, 1860 and my
mother in 1869.1 After passing the Matriculation (then
called Entrance) Examination from the Albert School, Cal¬
cutta, he studied for some time at the St. Xavier’s College
and the General Assembly’s Institution (now called
Scottish Church College). He then went to Cuttack and
graduated from the Ravenshaw College. He returned to
Calcutta to take his law degree and during this period
came into close contact with the prominent personalities
of the Brahmo Samaj, Brahmananda Keshav Chandra Sen,
his brother Krishna Vihari Sen, and Umesh Chandra Dutt,
Principal of the City College. He worked for a time as
Lecturer in the Albert College, of which Krishna Vihari
Sen was the Rector. In 1885 he went to Cuttack and joined
the bar. The year 1901 saw him as the first non-official
elected Chairman of the Cuttack Municipality. By 1905
he became Government Pleader and Public Prosecutor. In
1912 he became a member of the Bengal Legislative
Council and received the title of Rai Bahadur. In 1917,
following some differences with the District Magistrate, he
resigned the post of Government Pleader and Public Pro¬
secutor and thirteen years later, in 1930, he gave up the
title of Rai Bahadur as a protest against the repressive
policy of the Government.
Besides being connected with public bodies like the
Municipality and District Board, he took an active part in
educational and social institutions like the Victoria School
and Cuttack Union Club. He had extensive charities, and
poor students came in for a regular share of them. Though
the major portion of his charities went to Orissa, he did
not forget his ancestral village, where he founded a charit¬
able dispensary and library, named after his mother and
father respectively. He was a regular visitor at the annual
session of the Indian National Congress but he did not
actively participate in politics, though he was a consistent
supporter of Swadeshi.2 After the commencement of the

1 To be more exact, she was bom on the 13th Phalgun. 1275-

according to the Bengali year.—Phalgun 13th, 1344 is equivalent to
February 25th, 1938.
2 i.e home-industries.
12 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

Non-co-operation Movement in 1921, he interested himself

in the constructive activities of the Congress, Khadi1 and
national education. He was all along of a religious bent
of mind and received initiation twice, his first guru being
a Shakta and the second a Vaishnava. For years he was
the President of the local Theosophical Lodge. He had
always a soft spot for the poorest of the poor and before his
death he made provisions for his old servants and other
dependents.
As mentioned in the first chapter, my mother belonged
to the family of the Dutts2 of Hatkhola, a northern
quarter of Calcutta. In the early days of British rule, the
Dutts were one of those families in Calcutta who attained
a great deal of prominence by virtue of their wealth and
their ability to adapt themselves to the new political order.
As a consequence they played a role among the neo-aristo-
cracy of the day. My mother’s grandfather, Kashi Nath
Dutt, broke away from the family and moved to Bara-
nagore, a small town about six miles to the north of Cal¬
cutta, built a palatial house for himself and settled down
there. He was a very well-educated man, a voracious
reader and a friend of the students. He held a high ad¬
ministrative post in the firm of Messrs Jard.ine, Skinner
& Co., a British firm doing business in Calcutta. Both
my mother’s father, Ganganarayan Dutt, and grandfather
had a reputation for being wise in selecting their sons-in-
law. They were thereby able to make alliances with the
leading families among the Calcutta aristocracy of the day.
One of Kashi Nath Dutt’s sons-in-law was Sir Romesh
Chandra Mitter3 who was the first Indian to be acting
Chief Justice of the Calcutta High Court. Another was
Rai Bahadur Hari Vallabh Bose who had migrated to
Cuttack before my father and as a lawyer had won a
unique position for himself throughout the whole of Orissa.

1 Khadi or Khaddar is hand-spun and hand-woven cloth.

2 The original Sanskrit form of this word is ‘Datta’ or ‘Dutta’. ‘Dutt'
is an anglicised abbreviation of this word.
3 This is the same as Mitra. Sir Romesh had three sons—the
late Manmatha Nath, Sir Benode. and Sir Pravas Mitter. The late Sir
B. C. Mitter was Advocate-General of Bengal and later on, a member of
the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. Sir Pravas Mitter was mem¬
ber of the Executive Council of the Governor of Bengal.
 FAMILY HISTORY 13
It is said of my maternal grandfather, Ganganarayan
Dutt, that before he agreed to give my mother in marriage
to my father, he put the latter through an examination
and satisfied himself as to his intellectual ability. My
mother was the eldest daughter. Her younger sisters were
married successively to (the late) Barada Ch. Mitra, I.C.S.,
District and Sessions Judge, Mr Upendra Nath Bose of
Benares City, (the late) Chandra Nath Ghosh, Subordinate
Judge and (the late) Dr. J. N. Bose, younger brother of
the late Rai Bahadur Chuni Lai Bose of Calcutta.
From the point of view of eugenics it is interesting to
note that on my father’s side, large families were the ex¬
ception and not the rule. On my mother’s side, the contrary
seems to have been the case. Thus my maternal grand¬
father had nine sons and six daughters.1 Among his children,
the daughters generally had large families—including my
mother—but not the sons. My parents had eight sons and
six daughters.2 of whom nine—seven sons and two
daughters—are still living. Among my sisters and brothers,
some—but not the majority—have as many as eight or
nine children, but it is not possible to say that the sisters
are more prolific than the brothers or vice versa. It would
be interesting to know if in a particular family the prolific
strain adheres to one sex more than to the other. Perhaps
eugenists could answer the question.

1 For the genealogical tree, see Appendix I.

2 See Appendix I.
 CHAPTER III

BEFORE MY TIME

It requires a great deal of imagination now to picture the

transformation that Indian society underwent as a result
of political power passing into the hands of the British
since the latter half of the eighteenth century. Yet an
understanding of it is essential if we are to view in their
proper perspective the kaleidoscopic changes that are
going on in India today. Since Bengal was the first pro¬
vince to come under British rule, the resulting changes
were more quickly visible there than elsewhere. With the
overthrow of the indigenous Government, the feudal aris¬
tocracy which was bound up with it naturally lost its
importance. Its place was taken by another set of men.
The Britishers had come into the country for purposes of
trade and had later on found themselves called upon to
rule. But it was not possible for a handful of them to
carry on their trade or administration without the active
co-operation of at least a section of the people.. At this
juncture those who fell in line with the new political order
and had sufficient ability and initiative to make the most
of the new situation came to the fore as the aristocracy
of the new age.
It is generally thought that for a long time under
British rule Muslims1 did not play an important role,
and several theories have been advanced to account for
*

this. It is urged, for instance, that since, in provinces like

Bengal, the rulers who were overthrown by the British
were Muslims by religion, the Muslim community main¬
tained for a long time an attitude of sullen animosity and
non-cooperation towards the new rulers, their culture and
their administration. On the other hand it is said that,
prior to the establishment of British rule in India, the
Muslim aristocracy had already grown thoroughly effete

1 Also called Mohammedans.

 BEFORE MY TIME 15
and worn out and that Islam did not at first take kindly
to modern science and civilization. Consequently, it was
but natural that under British rule the Muslims should
suffer from a serious handicap and go under for the time
being. I am inclined, however, to think that in proportion
to their numbers,1 and considering India as a whole, the
Muslims have never ceased to play an important role in
the public life of the country, whether before or under
British rule—and that the distinction between Hindu and
Muslim of which we hear so much nowadays is largely
an artificial creation, a kind of Catholic-Protestant contro¬
versy in Ireland, in which our present-day rulers have had
a hand. History will bear me out when I say that it is a
misnomer to talk of Muslim rule when describing the poli¬
tical order in India prior to the advent of the British.
Whether we talk of the Moghul Emperors at Delhi, or of
the Muslim Kings of Bengal, we shall find that in either
case the administration was run by Hindus and Muslims
together, many of the prominent Cabinet Ministers and
Generals being Hindus. Further, the consolidation of the
Moghul Empire in India was effected with the help of
Hindu commanders-in-chief. The Commander-in-chief of
Nawab Sirajudowla, whom the British fought at Plassey in
1757 and defeated, was a Hindu, and the rebellion of 1857
against the British, in which Hindus and Moslems were
found side by side, was fought under the flag of a Muslim,
Bahadur Shah.
Be that as it may, it is a fact so far as Bengal is con¬
cerned, whatever the causes may be, most of the prominent
personalities that arose soon after the British conquest
were Hindus. The most outstanding of them was Raja Ram
Mohan Roy (1772-1833) who founded the Brahmo Samaj2
in 1828. The dawn of the nineteenth century saw a new

1 According to the 1931 census, the Muslims are roughtlv 24.7 per
cent of the total population of British India which is about 271.4
millions; roughly 13.5' per cent of the total population of the Indian states
which is 79 millions and roughly 22 per cent of the total population of
India, which is 350.5 millions.
2 The Brahmo Samaj can best be described as a reformist movement
within Hindu society, standing for the religious principles of the Vedanta
in their pristine form and discarding later accretions like image-worship
 16 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

awakening in the land. This awakening was cultural and

religious in character and the Brahmo Samaj was its
spearhead. It could be likened to a combination of the
Renaissance and Reformation. One aspect of it was national
and conservative—standing for a revival of India’s culture
and a reform of India’s religions. The other aspect of it
was cosmopolitan and eclectic—seeking to assimilate what
was good and useful in other cultures and religions. Ram
Mohan was the visible embodiment of the new awakening
and the herald of a new era in India’s history. His mantle
fell successively on ‘Maharshi’ Devendranath Tagore (1818-
1905), father of the poet Rabindranath Tagore, and Brah-
mananda Keshav Chandra Sen (1838-1884) and the in¬
fluence of the Brahmo Samaj grew from day to day.
There is no doubt that at one time the Brahmo Samaj
focussed within itself all the progressive movements and
tendencies in the country. From the very beginning the
Samaj was influenced in its cultural outlook by Western
science and thought, and when the newly established
British Government was in doubt as to what its educational
policy should be—whether it should promote indigenous
culture exclusively or introduce Western culture—Raja
Ram Mohan Roy took an unequivocal stand as the cham¬
pion of Western culture. His ideas influenced Thomas
Babington Macaulay when he wrote his famous Minute on
Education * 1 and ultimately became the policy of the Go¬
vernment. With his prophetic vision, Ram Mohan had
realised, long before any of his countrymen did, that India
would have to assimilate Western science and thought if
she wanted to come into her own once again.
The cultural awakening was not confined to the Brah¬
mo Samaj, however. Even those who regarded the

and the caste-system. Originally the Brahmos tended to break away

from Hindu Society, but their present attitude is to regard themselves
as an integral part of it.
1 Macaulay came to Calcutta as Law Member of the Governor
General’s Council in the autumn of 1834. He was appointed President
of the Committee of Public Instruction which he found divided into the
Orientalist and English parties. On February 2, 1835, he submitted a
Minute to the Governor General, Bentinck, supporting the English oarty
which was adopted by the Government.
 BEFORE MY TIME 17

Brahmos as too heretical, revolutionary, or iconoclastic

were keen about the revival of the indigenous culture of
India. While the Brahmos and other progressive sections
of the people replied to the challenge of the West by trying
to assimilate all that was good in Western culture, the more
orthodox circles responded by justifying whatever there
was to be found in Hindu society and by trying to prove
that all the discoveries and inventions of the West were
known to the ancient sages of India. Thus the impact of
the West roused even the orthodox circles from their self-
complacency. There was a great deal of literary activity
among them and they produced able men like Sasadhar
Tarkachuramani—but much of their energy was directed
towards meeting the terrible onslaughts on Hindu religion
coming from the Christian missionaries. In this there was
common ground between the Brahmos and the orthodox
Pundits, though in other matters there was no love lost
between them. Out of the conflict between the old and the
new, between the conservatives and the radicals, between
the Brahmos and the Pundits, there emerged a new type—
the noblest embodiment of which was Pundit Iswar Chan¬
dra Vidyasagar. This new type of Indian stood for pro¬
gress and for a synthesis of Eastern and Western culture
and accepted generally the spirit of reform which was
abroad, but refused to break away from Hindu society or
to go too far in emulating the West, as the Brahmos were
inclined to do at first. Iswar Chandra Vidyasagar, for
instance, was brought up as an orthodox Pundit, became
the father of modern Bengali prose and a protagonist of
Western science and culture, and was a great social re¬
former and philanthropist1—but till the last, he stuck to
the simple and austere life of an orthodox Pundit. He
boldly advocated the remarriage of Hindu widows and in¬
curred the wrath of the conservatives in doing so—but he
based his arguments mainly on the fact that the ancient

1 Speaking of the Pundit, the Poet Madhusudan Dutt, the originator

of blank verse in Bengali, once wrote...“You are not merely the ocean
of knowledge (Vidyasagar means literally ‘the ocean of knowledge ) as
people know you in India, but also the ocean of generosity.”
18 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

scriptures approved of such a custom. The type which

Iswar Chandra represented ultimately found its religious
and philosophical expression in Ramakrishna Paramahansa
(1834-1886) and his worthy disciple, Swami Vivekananda
(1863-1902). Swami Vivekananda died in 1902 and the
religio-philosophical movement was continued through the
personality of Arabindo Ghose (or Ghosh). Arabindo did
not keep aloof from politics. On the contrary, he plunged
into the thick of it, and by 1908 became one of the fore¬
most political leaders. In him, spirituality was wedded to
politics. Arabindo retired from politics in 1909 to devote
himself exclusively to religion; but spirituality and politics
continued to be associated together in the life of Loka-
manya B. G. Tilak (1856-1920) and Mahatma Gandhi
(1869).
This brief narrative will serve as a rough background
to the contents of this book and will give some idea of the
social environment which existed when my father was a
student of the Albert School1 in Calcutta. Society was
then dominated by a new aristocracy, which had grown
up alongside of British rule, whom we should now call, in
socialist parlance, the allies of British ‘Imperialism’. This
aristocracy was composed roughly of three classes or pro¬
fessions—(1) landlords, (2) lawyers and civil servants and
(3) merchant-princes. All of them were the creation of
the British, their assistance being necessary for carrying
out the policy of administration-cum-exploitation.
The landlords who came into prominence under British
rule were not the semi-independent or autonomous chiefs
of the feudal age, but mere tax-collectors who were useful
to a foreign Government in the matter of collecting land-
revenue and who had to be rewarded for their loyalty
during the Rebellion of 1857, when the existence of British
rule hung by a thread.
Though the new aristocracy dominated contemporary
society and, as a consequence, men like Maharaja Jatindra
Mohan Tagore and Raja Benoy Krishna Deb Bahadur were

1 Here he was a class-fellow of Sir P. C. Ray, the well-known chemist

and philanthropist.
 BEFORE MY TIME 19

regarded by the Government as the leaders of society, they

had little in the way of intellectual or moral appeal. That
appeal was exercised in my father’s youth by men like
Keshav Chandra Sen and to some extent, Iswar Chandra
Vidyasagar. Wherever the former went, crowds followed
him. He was, indeed, the hero of the hour. The spiritual
fervour of his powerful orations raised the moral tone of
society as a whole and of the rising generations in parti¬
cular. Like other students, my father, too, came under
his magic influence, and there was a time when he even
thought of a formal conversion to Brahmoism. In any case,
Keshav Chandra undoubtedly had an abiding influence on
my father’s life and character. Years later, in far-off
Cuttack, portraits of this great man would still adorn the
walls of his house, and his relations with the local Brahmo
Samaj continued to be cordial throughout his life.
Though there was a profound moral awakening among
the people during the formative period of my father’s life,
I am inclined to think that politically the country was still
dead. It is significant that his heroes—Keshav Chandra
and Iswar Chandra1 —though they were men of the
highest moral stature, were by no means anti-Government
or anti-British. The former used to state openly that he
regarded the advent of the British as a divine dispensation.
And the latter did not shun contact with the Government
or with Britishers as a ‘non-co-operator’ today would,
though the keynote of his character was an acute sense
of independence and self-respect. My father, likewise,
though he had a high standard of morality, and influenced
his family to that end, was not anti-Government. That was
why he could accept the position of Government Pleader and
Public Prosecutor, as well as a title from the Government.
My father’s elder brother, Principal Devendra Nath Bose,
belonged to the same type. He was a man of unimpeach¬
able character, greatly loved and respected by his students

1 Both of them were educationists and, largely, under their inspiration,

a new type of teachers, possessing a high moral character, was produced.
My father was also a teacher for some time and might have taken up
teaching as a profession.
20 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

for his intellectual and moral attainments, but he was a

Government servant in the Education Department. Like¬
wise, before my father’s time it was possible for Bankim
Chandra Chatterji1 (1838-1894) to compose the ‘Bande
Mataram’2 song and still continue in Government service.
And D. L. Roy3 could be a magistrate in the service of
the Government and yet compose national songs which
inspired the people. All this could happen some decades
ago, because that was an age of transition, probably an
age of political immaturity. Since 1905, when the parti¬
tion of Bengal was effected in the teeth of popular oppo¬
sition and indignation, a sharpening of political conscious¬
ness has taken place, leading to inevitable friction be¬
tween the people and the Government. People are nowa¬
days more resentful of what the Government does and the
Government in its turn is more suspicious of what the
people say or write. The old order has changed, yielding
place to new, and today it is no longer possible to separate
morality from politics—to obey the dictates of morality
and not land oneself in political trouble. The individual
has to go through the experience of his race within the
brief span of his own life, and I remember quite clearly
that I too passed through the stage of what I may call
non-political morality, when I thought that moral develop¬
ment was possible while steering clear of politics—while
complacently giving unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. But
now I am convinced that life is one whole. If we accept
an idea, we have to give ourselves wholly to it and to
allow it to transform our entire life. A light brought into
a dark room will necessarily illuminate every portion
of it.

1 One of the fathers of modem Bengali Literature.

2 ‘Bande Mataram’ literally means T salute the mother (i.e., mother¬
land). It is the nearest approach to India’s national anthem.
3 One of the foremost Bengali dramatists and composer of national
songs—father of Dilip Kumar Roy. He died in 1913,
 CHAPTER IV

AT SCHOOL (1)

I was nearing my fifth birthday (January, 1902) when I

was told I would be sent to school. I do not know how
other children have felt in similar circumstances, but I
was delighted. To see your elder brothers and sisters
dress and go to school day after day and be left behind
at home simply because you are not big enough—not old
enough—is a galling experience. At least, so I had felt,
and that is why I was overjoyed.
It was to be a red-letter day for me. At long last I
was going to join the grown-up respectable folks who did
not stay at home except on holidays. We had to start at
about 10 a.m. because the classes commended exactly at
10 a.m. Two uncles of about the same age as myself were
also to be admitted along with myself. When we were all
ready, we began to run towards the carriage which was
to take us to school. Just then, as ill-luck would have it, I
slipped and fell. I was hurt and, with a bandage round
my head, I was ordered to bed. The rumbling of the
carriage wheels grew fainter in the distance. The lucky
ones had gone, but there I lay with darkness staring me
in the face and my fond hopes dashed to the ground.
Twenty-four hours later I found solace.
Ours was a missionary school1 meant primarily for
European and Anglo-Indian boys and girls with a limited
number of seats (about 15 per cent) for Indians. All our
brothers and sisters had joined this school, and so I did.
I do not know why our parents had selected this school,
but I presume it was because we would master the English
language better and sooner there than elsewhere, and
knowledge of English had a premium in those days. I still
remember that when I went to school I had just learnt the

1 Protestant European School (P. E. School) run by the Baptist

Mission.
22 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

English alphabet and no more. How I managed to get

along without being able to speak a word of English beats
me now. I have not yet forgotten one of my first attempts at
English. We had been given slate pencils and told to
sharpen them before trying to write. Mine was done better
than that of my uncle; so I pointed that out to our teacher
by saying, ‘Ranendra mot1 I shor’2—and thought that I
had talked in English.
Our teachers were Anglo-Indians (and mostly ladies)
with the exception of the headmaster and headmistress,
Mr and Mrs Young, who had come out from England.
Most of our teachers we did not fancy. Some like Mr
Young we feared, though we respected, for he was too
liberal with his cane. Some like Miss Cadogan we tolerated.
Others like Miss S. we positively hated and would cry
‘Hurrah’ if she ever absented herself. Mrs Young we liked,
but Miss Sarah Lawrence who was our first teacher in the
Infant Class we loved. She had such a sympathetic under¬
standing of the child’s mind that we were irresistibly
drawn towards her. But for her, I doubt if I would have
got on so easily at a time when I was unable to express
myself in English.
Though the majority of the teachers and pupils were
Anglo-Indians, the school was based on the English model
and run on English lines, as far as Indian conditions would
permit. There were certain things we did learn there
which we would have missed in an Indian school. There
was not that unhealthy emphasis on studies which obtains
in Indian schools. Outside studies, more attention was
given to deportment, neatness, and punctuality than is
done in an Indian school. In the matter of studies, the
students received more individual attention at the hands
of their teachers and the daily work was done more regularly
and systematically than is possible in an Indian school.
The result was that practically no preparation was needed
when an examination had to be faced. Moreover, the

1 ‘Mota’ in Bengali means 'thick’ and ‘mot’ was a distortion of it.

2 ‘Shoroo’ in Bengali means ‘thin’ and ‘shor’ was a distortion of it.
 AT SCHOOL (1) 23

standard of English taught was much higher than that of

Indian schools. But after giving due consideration and
credit to all this, I doubt if I should today advise an Indian
boy to go to such a school. Though there was order and
system in the education that was imparted, the education
itself was hardly adapted to the needs of Indian students.
Too much importance was attached to the teaching of the
Bible, and the method of teaching it was as unscientific as
it was uninteresting. We had to learn our Bible lessons
by heart whether we understood anything or not, as if
we were so many priests memorizing the sacred texts. It
would be no exggeration for me to say that though we were
taught the Bible day in day out and for seven long years, I
came to like the Bible for the first time several years later
when I was in College.
There is no doubt that the curriculum was so framed
as to make us as English in our mental make-up as possible.
We learnt much about the geography and history of Great
Britain but proportionally little about India—and when we
had to negotiate Indian names, we did so as if we were
foreigners. We started our Latin declensions—‘bonus,
bona, bonum’—rather early and did not have to be bothered
about our Sanskrit declensions—‘Gajah, Gajow, Gajah’—
till we had left the P. E. School. When it came to music,
we had to train our ears to ‘Do, Ray, Me, Fah’ and not to
‘Sah, Ray, Gah, Mah’. The readers contained stories and
anecdotes from English history or fairy tales which are
current in Europe and there was not a word in them of
Indian origin. Needless to add, no Indian language was
taught1 and so we neglected our mother-tongue altogether
until we joined an Indian school.
It would be wrong to conclude from the above that we
were not happy at school. On the contrary. During the
first few years we were not conscious at all that the edu¬
cation imparted was not suited to Indian conditions. We
eagerly learnt whatever came our way and fell completely
in line with the school-system, as the other pupils did. The

11 believe there has been a change for the better in recent years.
24 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

school had a reputation for turning out well-behaved boys

and girls, and we tried to live up to it. Our parents, I
think, were on the whole satisfied with our progress. With
the school authorities our stock was high, because the
members of our family were generally at the top in which¬
ever class they happened to be.
Sports naturally came in for some amount of attention,
but not as much as one would expect in a school run on
English lines. That was probably due to the fact that our
headmaster was not much of a sportsman himself. He
was a unique personality in many ways and strong-willed
-—and the stamp of his character was visible everywhere
within the precincts of the school. He was a stern disci¬
plinarian and a great stickler for good behaviour. In the
Progress Report marks were given not only for the different
subjects but also for (1) Conduct, (2) Deportment, (3)
Neatness, (4) Punctuality. No wonder therefore that the
boys and girls turned out were well-mannered. For mis¬
behaviour or indiscipline, boys were liable to be flogged1 *
with a cane, but only two of the teachers had this authority
—the headmaster and his worthy spouse.
Mr. Young had several idiosyncrasies, however, and
many were the jokes we would have at his expense. He
had an elder brother, a bachelor and a missionary with a
venerable beard, who was exceedingly fond of children and
would love to play with them. To distinguish our head¬
master from his elder brother, we nicknamed him ‘Young
Young’, the latter being called ‘Old Young’. Mr. Young
Young was very sensitive to cold and even on a warm day
he would shut the windows lest the draught should come
in. He would frequently warn us about the risk of catch¬
ing cold and getting cholera therefrom. If he ever felt out
of sorts, he would take such a stiff dose of quinine as
would make him almost deaf. After he had lived twenty
years in the country, he could speak hardly a word in the

1 Nobody seemed to mind the caning which Mrs. Young adminis¬

tered, tor the boys usually came smiling out of her room. But the
headmasters flogging was a different story altogether and there was
hardly any boy who would not turn pale as he growled. “Go into mv
room, Sir . 3
 AT SCHOOL (1) 25

local dialect and never cared to go in for sight-seeing or

touring. If the caretaker forgot to put something on his
table, Mr. Young would ring for him, point to the thing
wanted, but, unable to scold him in the local dialect, would
content himself with glaring at him and then muttering,
“All this ought to have been done before”. If a messenger
brought in a letter and Mr. Young wanted to ask him to
wait, he would run up to his wife, get the correct words
from her, and go on repeating them till he was able to
come out and throw them at the man.
With all this our headmaster was a man who bore him¬
self with dignity and poise and commanded our respect,
though it was tinged with fear. Our headmistress was a
motherly lady who was universally liked. And I must say
that there was never any attempt to influence unduly our
social and religious ideas. Things went on smoothly for
some years and we seemed to have fitted into our milieu
splendidly, but gradually there appeared a rift within the
lute. Something happened which tended to differentiate
us from our environment. Was it the effect of local causes
or was it the echo of larger socio-political disturbances;
that is a poser I shall not answer for the present.
To some extent this differentiation was inevitable, but
what was not inevitable was the conflict that arose out of
it. We had been living in two distinct worlds and as our
consciousness developed we began to realise slowly that
these two worlds did not always match. There was, on
the one hand, the influence of family and society which
was India. There was, on the other, another world, another
atmosphere, where we spent most of our working days,
which was not England, of course, but a near approach to
it. We were told that, because we were Indians, we could
not sit for scholarship examinations \ like Primary School
and Middle School Examinations though in our annual
examinations many of us were topping the class. Anglo-
Indian boys could join the Volunteer Corps and shoulder
a rifle, but we could not. Small incidents like these began
to open our eyes to the fact that as Indians we were a

lrThis was because Indian boys would carry away the scholarships.
26 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

class apart, though we belonged to the same institution.

Then there would be occasional quarrels between English
(or Anglo-Indian) and Indian boys which would finish up
with a boxing bout1, in which sympathies would be mobi¬
lized along racial lines. The son of a very high Indian
official who was a fellow student would organise matches
between Indians and Europeans at his place, and those of
us who could play well would join either side. I can also
remember that we Indian boys talking among ourselves
would sometimes say that we were fed up with the Bible
and that for nothing in the world would we ever change
our religion. Then there came the new regulations of the
Calcutta University making Bengali a compulsory subject
for the Matriculation, Intermediate and Degree Examina¬
tions and introducing other changes in Matriculation curri¬
culum. We were soon made to realise that the curriculum
of the P. E. School did not suit us and that, unlike the
other boys, we would have to begin anew the study of
Bengali and Sanskrit when we joined an Indian school in
order to prepare for the Matriculation Examination. Last
but not least, there was the influence of my elder brothers
who had already left our school and were preparing for
the Matriculation, Intermediate and Degree Examinations
and who spoke to us at home of a different world in which
they moved about.
It would be wrong to infer from the above that I was
in revolt against my school environment after I had been
there some years. I was there for seven years, from 1902
to 1908, and was to all intents and purposes satisfied with
my surroundings. The disturbing factors referred to above
were passing incidents which did not affect the even tenor
of our life. Only towards the end did I have a vague feel¬
ing of unhappiness, of maladaptation 2 to my environment
and a strong desire to join an Indian school where, so I
thought, I would feel more at home. And strangely

1 In these bouts my uncles and some of my brothers always gave

a good account of themselves.
* It is possible that this feeling grew within me because I was too
much of an introvert, as I have remarked at the end of the first chapter.
 AT SCHOOL (1) 27

enough, when in January, 1909, I shook hands with our

headmaster and said good-bye to the school, the teachers
and the students, I did so without any regret, without a
momentary pang. At the time, it was quite impossible for
me to understand what had gone wrong with me. Only
from this distance of time and with the help of an adult
mind can I now analyse some of the factors that had been
at work.
So far as studies were concerned my record during
this period was satisfactory, because I was usually at the
top. But as I did badly in sports and did not play any
part in the bouts that took place, and as studies did not
have the importance which they have usually in an Indian
school, I came to cherish a poor opinion of myself.1 The
feeling of insignificance—of diffidence—to which I have
referred before, continued to haunt me. Having joined the
lowest standard I had probably got into the habit of look¬
ing up to others and of looking down upon myself.
Considering everything, I should not send an Indian
boy or girl to such a school now. The child will certainly
suffer from a sense of maladaptation and from consequent
unhappiness, especially if he or she is of a sensitive nature.
I should say the same of the practice of sending Indian
boys to public schools in England which prevailed and
still prevails 2 in certain aristocratic circles in India. For
the same reason, I strongly condemn the move taken by
certain Indians to start Indian schools run by English
teachers on the lines of English public schools. It is
possible that some boys, for example those who are men¬
tally extrovert, may not suffer from a feeling of maladap¬
tation and may feel quite happy in such an environment.
But introvert children are bound to suffer, and in that
event the reaction against the system and all that it stands
for is bound to be hostile. Apart from this psychological
consideration, a system of education which ignores Indian
conditions, Indian requirements, and Indian history and

1 Perhaps this was responsible to some extent for the feeling of

unhappiness to which I have referred in the preceding paragraph.
21 am fortified in this view by what I saw of the Indian products
of English public schools when I was a student at Cambridge.
28 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

sociology is too unscientific to commend itself to any

rational support. The proper psychological approach for
a cultural rapprochement between the East and the West
is not to force ‘English’ education on Indian boys when
they are young, but to bring them into close personal
contact with the West when they are developed, so that
they can judge for themselves what is good and what is
bad in the East and in the West.
 CHAPTER V

AT SCHOOL (2)

It is strange how your opinion of yourself can be in¬

fluenced by what others think of you. In January, 1909,
when I joined the Ravenshaw Collegiate School, Cuttack, a
sudden change came over me. Among European and
Anglo-Indian boys my parentage had counted for nothing,
but among our own people it was different. Further, my
knowledge of English was above the ordinary level and
that gave me an added estimation in the eyes of my new
class-mates. Even the teachers treated me with undue
consideration, because they expected me to stand first, and
in an Indian school studies, and not sports, brought credit
and reward. At the first quarterly examination I did
justify the hopes placed in me. The new atmosphere in
which I lived and moved forced me to think better of
myself—that I was worth something and was not an in¬
significant creature. It was not a feeling of pride that
crept into me but of self-confidence which till then had
been lacking and which is the sine qua non of all success
in life.
This time it was not the infant class which I joined
but the fourth 1 class—so I did not have to look up all
the time. Boys of the fourth class considered themselves
as belonging to one of the higher classes and moved about
with an air of importance. So did I. But in one respect
I was seriously handicapped in spite of all the other ad¬
vantages I enjoyed. I had read hardly a word of Bengali
—my mother-tongue—before I joined this school, while
the other boys had already reached a high standard. I
remember that the first day I had to write an essay on
‘Cow’ (or was it ‘Horse’?), I was made the laughing-stock
of all my class-mates. I knew nothing of grammar and

1 In our time the numbering was different from what obtains now.
For instance, formerly the first class was the top class in a High School.
 30 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

precious little of spelling and when the teacher read out

my composition to the whole class with running comments,
punctuated with laughter, flowing in from all sides, I felt
humbled to the dust. I had never had this experience
before—to be laughed at for deficiency in studies—and on
top of it, I had lately developed a species of self-conscious¬
ness which had made me ultrasensitive. For weeks and
months the Bengali lessons would give me the creeps. But
for the time being, however acute the mental torture,
there was nothing I could do but put up with the humilia¬
tion and secretly resolve to make good. Slowly and
steadily I began to gain ground and at the annual exami¬
nation I had the satisfaction of getting the highest marks
in that subject.
I enjoyed my new surroundings, the more so as I had
longed for the change. At the other school, though I had
been there for seven years, I had not left behind any
friends. Here it looked as if I would enter into lasting
friendship with at least some of my classmates. My friends
were not of the sporting type because I did not take kindly
to sports and only the drill lessons interested me. Apart
from my own lukewarmness, there was another obstacle
to my taking to sports enthusiastically. It was customary
for the boys to return home after school-hours, have a
light tiffin, and then go out for games. My parents did
not like us to do that. Either they thought that sports
would interfere with our studies or they did not regard
the atmosphere of the playground as congenial to our
mental health. Possibly the latter consideration weighed
more with them. Be that as it may, the domestic situation
was such that if we wanted to go out for games, we had
to do it on the sly. Some of my brothers and uncles did
do so and occasionally, when they were caught, were
given a talking-to. But, knowing my parents’ habits, it
was generally possible to dodge them, especially as they
were in the habit of going out for a drive and walk. If I
had had a strong desire like the others, I could easily
have joined them at the games. But I did not. Moreover,
I was then of a goody-goody nature and was busy devour-
 AT SCHOOL (2) 31

ing ethical verses in Sanskrit. Some of these verses taught

that the highest virtue consisted in obeying one’s father—
that when one’s father was satisfied all the gods were
satisfied 1 —that one’s mother was even greater than one’s
father etc., etc. I therefore thought it better not to do
what would displease my parents. So I would take to
gardening along with those who did not go out for games.
We had a fairly big kitchen and flower garden adjoining
our house and in company with the gardener we would
water and tend the plants or do some digging or help lay
out the beds. Gardening I found absorbingly interesting.
It served, among other things, to open my eyes to the
beauties of nature, about which I shall have something to
say later on. Besides gardening, we would also go in for
physical exercise and gymnastics for which there were
arrangements at home.
Looking back on my past life I feel inclined to think
that I should not have neglected sports. By doing so, I
probably developed precocity and accentuated my intro¬
vert tendencies. .To ripen too early is not good, either
for a tree or for a human being and one has to pay for
it in the long run. There is nothing to beat nature’s law
of gradual development, and however much prodigies may
interest us at first they generally fail to fulfil their early
promise.
For two years life rolled on in much the same way.
Among the teachers and students there were both
Bengalees and Oriyas and the relations between them were
quite cordial. One did not hear in those days—at least
we students did not hear—of any ill-feeling or misunder¬
standing between the people of the two sister provinces.
So far as the members of our family were concerned, we
could never think or feel in terms of narrow parochialism
or provincialism. For that we have to thank our parents.
My father had extensive contacts with the people of Orissa,
and intimate personal relations with many distinguished
Oriya families. His outlook was consequently broad and

1 Pitah Swargah, Pitah Dharma, Pitahi Paramantapah etc.

32 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

his sympathies wide and they unconsciously influenced

the rest of his family. I cannot remember ever to have
heard from his lips one single disparaging remark about
the people of Orissa—or for the matter of that about the
people of any other province. Though he was never effu¬
sive in his emotions and was inclined to be reserved, he
could endear himself to all those who came into contact
with him wherever he happened to be at the time. Such
parental influences work unobtrusively and only in later
life can the children discover by a process of analysis
what helped to mould their character or give their life a
definite direction.
Of the teachers there was one who left a permanent
impression on my youthful mind. That was our head¬
master, Babu Beni Madhav Das. The very first day I saw
him taking his rounds—and I was then just over twelve—
I felt what I should now call an irresistible moral appeal
in his personality. Up till then I had never experienced
what it was to respect a man. But for me, to see Beni
Madhav Das was to adore him. I was not old enough then
to realise what is was that I adored. I could only feel
that here was a man who was not an ordinary teacher,
who stood apart from, and above, the rest of his tribe.
And I secretly said to myself that if I wanted an ideal for
my life, it should be to emulate him.
Talking of an ideal, I am reminded of an experience
I had when I was at the P.E. School. I was then about
ten. Our teachers asked us to write an essay on what we
would like to be when we were grown up. My eldest
brother was in the habit of giving us talks on the respec¬
tive virtues of a judge, magistrate, commissioner, barrister,
doctor, engineer, and so forth, and I had picked up odd
things from what I had heard him say. I jumbled up as
many of these as I still remembered, and wound up by
saying that I would be a magistrate. The teacher remark¬
ed that to be a magistrate after being a commissioner
would be an anti-climax, but I was too young to under¬
stand the status of the different professions and designa¬
tions. After that I had no occasion to be worried by the
 AT SCHOOL (2) 33

thought of what I should aspire to be in later life. I only

remember hearing in talks within the family circle that
the highest position one could get to was the Indian Civil
Service.1
The headmaster did not usually give any regular
lessons till the boys reached the second class. So I began
to long for the day when I would reach the second class
and be entitled to listen to his lectures. That day did
arrive,2 but my good fortune did not last long. After a
few months orders for his transfer came. However, be¬
fore he left us he had succeeded in rousing in me a vague
perception of moral values—an inchoate feeling that in
human life moral values should count more than anything
else. In other words he had made me feel the truth of
what we had read in our Poetry-Book :

The rank is but the guinea’s stamp

The man is the gold for all that.

And it was well that I had, for about this time the
usual mental changes—best described in scientific ter¬
minology as sex-consciousness—which are incidental to
approaching puberty, began to overtake me.
I remember vividly the parting scene when headmaster
Beni Madhav took leave of his devoted and admiring pupils.
He entered the class-room visibly moved and, in a voice
ringing with emotion, said, ‘I have nothing more to say
but invoke the blessings of God on you. . .. ’ I could not
listen any more. Tears rushed to my eyes and I cried out
within myself. But a hundred eyes were on the alert and
I managed to restrain myself. The classes were then
dismissed and the boys began to file off. Passing near his
room I suddenly saw him standing in the verandah watch¬
ing the boys depart. Our eyes met. The tears which I
had managed to restrain within the class-room now began
to flow. He saw them and was also moved. I stood para-

1 In those days it was nicknamed the heaven-born service.

21 was then fourteen.
34 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

lysed for a moment and he came up to say that we would

meet again. This was, I believe, the first time in my life
that I had to weep at the time of parting and the first
time I realised that only when we are forced to part do we
discover how much we love.1
The next day there was a public meeting organised
by the staff and students to accord him a farewell. I was
one of those who had to speak. How I got through my
part I do not know, for internally I was all in tears. I was,
however, painfully surprised to find that there were many
among the staff and the students who did not realise at
all what a sorrowful event it was. When the headmaster
spoke in reply, his words seemed to pierce through my
soul. I could hear only his opening words saying that he
had never expected, when he first came to Cuttack, that
there would be so much affection in store for him. Then
I ceased to listen but continued to gaze at his impassioned
countenance, which spoke volumes to me. There was an
expression, a glow, therein—which I had seen in the por¬
traits of Keshav Chandra Sen. And no wonder, since he
was Keshav Chandra’s ardent disciple and devotee.2
It was now a different school altogether—so dull, un¬
interesting, and uninspiring—for a light that had hitherto
shone there had vanished. But there was no help, the
classes had to be attended, the lessons learnt, and the exa¬
minations taken. The wheel of life grinds on regardless
of our joys and sorrows.
It is interesting how you can sometimes come nearer
to a person when you have parted from him. This
happened in the present case. I started a correspondence
with Headmaster Beni Madhav which went on for some
years. One thing I now learnt from him—how to love
nature and be inspired by her, not merely aesthetically,
but ethically as well. Following his instructions, I took
to what, in the absence of anything better, might be des¬
cribed as a species of nature-worship. I would choose a

M have had repeated demonstrations of this principle in later life.

“ There is a saying in Sanskrit—‘As you think, so you become’.
 AT SCHOOL (2) 35

beauty-spot on the river-bank or on a hill or in a lonely

meadow in the midst of an enchanting sunset-glow, and
practise contemplation. “Surrender yourself completely to
nature’, he would write, ‘and let Nature speak to you
through her Protean mask’. This sort of contemplation
had given him peace of mind, joy, and strength of will.
How far I profited ethically from this effort I cannot
say. But it certainly opened my eyes to the hidden and
neglected beauties of nature and also helped me to con¬
centrate my mind. In the garden, among flowers, sprout¬
ing leaves and growing plants, I would find an indescrib¬
able joy and I would love to ramble, alone or in the com¬
pany of friends, amid the wild beauties of nature with
which the countryside was so plentifully supplied. I could
realise the truth of what the poet had said :

A primrose by the river’s brim,

A yellow primrose is to him,
And it is something more.

Wordworth’s poems now had an added significance for

me and I would simply revel in the descriptions of natural
scenery in Kalidas’s 1 poetry and in the Mahabharata2
which, thanks to my Pundit, I could enjoy in the original
Sanskrit.
I was at this time entering on one of the stormiest
periods in my psychical life which was to last for five or
six years. It was a period of acute mental conflict caus¬
ing untold suffering and agony, which could not be shared
by any friends and was not visible to any outsider. I
doubt if a growing boy normally goes through this ex¬
perience—at least I hope he does not. But I had in some
respects a touch of the abnormal in my mental make-up.
Not only was I too much of an introvert, but I was in
some respects precocious. The result was that at an age

1 The greatest poet and dramatist of ancient India who wrote in

Sanskrit.
2 The Mahabharata and Ramayana are the two greatest epics of
ancient India.
36 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

when I should have been tiring myself out on the football

field, I was brooding over problems which should rather
have been left to a more mature age. The mental conflict,
as I view it from this distance, was a two-fold one. Firstly,
there was the natural attraction of a worldly life and of
worldly pursuits in general, against which my higher self
was beginning to revolt. Secondly, there was the growth
of sex-consciousness, quite natural at that age, but which
I considered unnatural and immoral and which I was
struggling to suppress or transcend.
Nature-worship, as described above, was elevating and
therefore helpful to a certain point, but it was not enough.
What I required—and what I was unconsciously groping
after—was a central principle, which I could use as a peg
to hang my whole life on, and a firm resolve to have no
other distractions in life. It was no easy job to discover
this principle or idea and then consecrate my life to it.
My agony could have been terminated, or at least consider¬
ably mitigated, if I had either given in at the outset as
so many have done, or had with one bold effort of the
will fixed on an idea and heroically brushed aside all
other allurements. But I would not give in—there was
something within which would not let me do so. I had
therefore to fight on. And a stiff fight it was, because I
was weak. For me the difficulty was not about the deter¬
mination of life’s goal so much as about concentrating my
entire will to that single goal. Even after I had decided
What was the most desirable object in life, it took me a
long time to establish peace and harmony within myself
by bringing under control contrary or rebellious tenden¬
cies, for though the spirit was willing the flesh was weak.
A stronger will than mine would undoubtedly have mana¬
ged things more easily.
One day by sheer accident I stumbled upon what
turned out to be my greatest help in this crisis. A relative
of mine,1 who was a new-comer to the town, was living
next door and I had to visit him. Glancing over his books,

1S. c. M.
 AT SCHOOL (2) 37

I came across the works of Swami Vivekananda. I had

hardly turned over a few pages when I realised that here
was something which I had been longing for. I borrowed
the books from him, brought them home, and devoured
them. I was thrilled to the marrow of my bones. My
headmaster had roused my aesthetic and moral sense—
had given a new impetus to my life—but he had not given
me an ideal to which I could give my whole being. That
Vivekananda gave me.
For days, weeks, months I poured over his works. His
letters as well as his speeches from Colombo to Almora,
replete as they were with practical advice to his country¬
men, inspired me most. From this study I emerged with
a vivid idea of the essence of his teachings. ‘Atmano
Mokshartham Jagaddhitaya,’—for you own salvation and
and for the service of humanity—that was to be life’s goal.
Neither the selfish monasticism of the middle ages, nor the
modern utilitarianism of Bentham and Mill, could be a
perfect ideal. And the service of humanity included, of
course, the service of one’s country—for, as his biographer
and his chief disciple, Sister Nivedita, pointed out,1 The
queen of his adoration was his motherland. There was not
a cry within her shores that did not find in him a respon¬
sive echo.’ The Swami himself in one of his passionate
utterances had said, ‘Say brothers at the top of your voice
—the naked Indian, the illiterate Indian, the Brahman
Indian, the Pariah Indian is my brother.’ Talking of the
future, he had remarked that the Brahman (religious
caste), the Kshatriya (warrior caste) and the Vaisya (trader
caste) each had had their day and now came the turn of
the Sudras, the down-trodden masses. To the ancient
scriptures he had given a modern interpretation. Strength,
strength, is what the Upanishads 2 say, he had often de¬
clared; have faith (shraddha) in yourselves as Nachiketa3
of old had. To some idle monks he had turned round

1 See her book, The Master as I saw him.

2 The Upanishads are the philosophical portion of the ancient
scriptures, the Vedas.
3 The son of one of the ancient sages of India.
38 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

and said, ‘Salvation will come through football and not

through the Gita.’1
I was barely fifteen when Vivekananda entered my
life. Then there followed a revolution within and every¬
thing was turned upside down. It was, of course, a long
time before I could appreciate the full significance of his
teachings or the greatness of his personality, but certain
impressions were stamped indelibly on my mind from the
outset. Both from his portraits as well as from his
teachings, Vivekananda appeared before me as a full-blown
personality. Many of the questions which vaguely stirred
my mind, and of which I was to become conscious later
on, found in him a satisfactory solution. My headmaster’s
personality ceased to be big enough to serve as my ideal.
I had previously thought of studying philosophy as he had
done and of emulating him. Now I thought of the path
which Vivekananda had indicated.
From Vivekananda I turned gradually to his master,
Ramakrishna Paramahansa. Vivekananda had made
speeches, written letters, and published books which were
available to the layman. But Ramakrishna, who was
almost an illiterate man, had done nothing of the kind.
He had lived his life and had left it to others to explain
it. Nevertheless, there were books or diaries published
by his disciples which gave the essence of his teachings as
learnt from conversations with him. The most valuable
element in these books was his practical direction regard¬
ing character-building in general and spiritual uplift in
particular. He would repeat unceasingly that only through
renunciation was realisation possible—that without com¬
plete self-abnegation spiritual development was impossible
to acquire. There was nothing new in his teaching, which
is as old as Indian civilisation itself, the Upanishads having
taught thousands of years ago that through abandonment
of worldly desires alone can immortal life be attained. The
effectiveness of Ramakrishna’s appeal .lay, however, in the
fact that he had practised what he preached and that, ac-

1 The Gita or Bhagavad Gita contains the essence of Hindu philo¬

sophy and may be regarded as the Bible of the Hindus.
 AT SCHOOL (2) 39

cording to his disciples, he had reached the acme of

spiritual progress.
The burden of Ramakrishna’s precepts was—renounce
lust and gold. This two-fold renunciation was for him the
test of a man’s fitness for spiritual life. The complete
conquest of lust involved the sublimation of the sex-ins¬
tinct, whereby to a man every woman would appear as
mother.
I was soon able to get together a group of friends
(besides my relative S.C.M.) who became interested in
Ramakrishna and Vivekananda. At school and outside,
whenever we had a chance, we would talk of nothing else
but this topic. Gradually we took to long walks and ex¬
cursions which would give us greater opportunities for
meeting and discussion. Our numbers began to swell and
we had a welcome acquisition in a young student1 with a
spiritual bent of mind who could sing devotional songs
with deep fervour.
At home and abroad we began to attract attention.
That was inevitable because of our eccentricities. Students
did not, however, venture to ridicule us, because our pres¬
tige was high, as some of us occupied the top places at
school. But such was not the case at home. My parents
noticed before long that I was going out frequestly in the
company of other boys. I was questioned, warned in a
friendly manner, and ultimately rebuked. But all to no
purpose. I was rapidly changing and was no longer the
goody-goody boy afraid of displeasing his parents. I had
a new ideal before me now which had inflamed my soul
-—to effect my own salvation and to serve humanity by
abandoning all worldly desires and breaking away from
all undue restraints. I no longer recited Sanskrit verses
inculcating obedience to one’s parents ; on the contrary, I
took to verses which preached defiance.2
I doubt if I have passed through a more trying period
in my life than now. Ramakrishna’s example of renun-

1H. M. S.
2 ‘You, Divine Mother, are my only refuge-neither father nor
mother; neither friend nor brother, etc.
40 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

ciation and purity entailed a battle royal with all the

forces of the lower self. And Vivekananda’s ideal brought
me into conflict with the existing family and social order.
I was weak, the fight was a long-drawn one in which
success was not easy to obtain, hence tension and un¬
happiness with occasional fits of depression.
It is difficult to say which aspect of the conflict was
more painful—the external or the internal. A stronger or
less sensitive mind than mine would have come out suc¬
cessful more quickly or suffered much less acutely than I
did. But there was no help, I had to go through what was
in store for me. The more my parents endeavoured to
restrain me, the more rebellious I became. When all other
attempts failed, my mother took to tears. But even that
had no effect on me. I was becoming callous, perhaps
eccentric, and more determined to go my own way, though
all the time I was feeling inwardly unhappy. To defy my
parents in this way was contrary to my nature and to
cause them pain was disagreeable, but I was swept on¬
wards as by an irresistible current. There was very little
appreciation or understanding at home of what I was
dreaming at the time, and that added to my misery. The
only solace was to be found in the company of friends and
I began to feel more at home when away from home.
Studies began to lose their importance for me and,
but for the fact that for years I had studied hard, I would
have gone under. The only thing that now mattered to
me was mental or spiritual exercise. I had no proper
guide at the time and turned to books for such help as
they could afford me. Only later did I realise that not all
of these were written by reliable or experienced men.
There were books on Brahmacharya or sex-control, which
were readily made use of. Then there were books on
meditation which were greedily devoured. Books on Yoga
and especially Hatha-Yoga1 were eagerly hunted after

1 Yoga means literally ‘Union (with Godhead). The word ‘Yoga

is used, however, to indicate not merely the goal but also the means.
Yogic practice has two branches...‘Raja-Yoga and ‘Hatho-Yoga. ‘Raja-
Yoga’ is concerned with the control of the mind and ‘Hatha-Yoga’ with
that of the body.
 AT SCHOOL (2) 41

and utilised. And over and above this, all kinds of ex¬
periments were made. A faithful narration of all that I
went through would suffice to make a first-class entertain¬
ment. Small wonder that some thought that I was on the
verge of lunacy.
The first time I resolved to sit down in the Yogic
fashion, the problem was how to do it without being seen
and how to face ridicule should I be discovered during
the act. The best thing was to attempt it in the dark after
sunset, and so I did. But I was ultimately seen one day
and there was a titter. One night while I was meditating
in secret, the maid happened to come in to make the bed
and bumped against me in the dark. Imagine her surprise
when she found that she had knocked against a lump of
flesh.
Concentration was practised in many ways. A black
circle was made in the centre of a while background and
the eyes were brought to stare fixedly at it till the mind
became a perfect blank. Gazing at the blue sky was acca-
sionally practised, and what beat everything was staring
at the scorching mid-day sun with eyes wide open. Self¬
mortification of various kinds was also resorted to—for
instance, eating simple vegetarian food, getting up in the
early hours of the morning, hardening the body to heat
and cold, etc.
Much of this had to be done with as little publicity
as possible, whether at home or outside. One of Rama-
krishna’s favourite maxims was : practise contemplation
in a forest or in a quiet corner, in your house or in your
own mind, so that none may observe you. The only people
who may know of it are fellow-devotees or fellow-Yogis.
After we had practised for some time what we considered
to be Yoga, we began to compare notes. Ramakrishna
had often referred to the inner psychic experiences, in¬
cluding extraordinary powers, which would come one’s
way as he progressed along the spiritual path and had
warned his disciples against feeling elated over them or
indulging in self-advertisement or self-enjoyment of any
sort. These psychic experiences and powers had to be
42 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

transcended if one wanted to reach the higher regions of

spiritual consciousness. Even after some months’ effort
I found that I could not lay claim to any such experience.
I had a feeling of confidence, and more peace of mind and
self-control than before, but that was about all. Perhaps
this is due to the want of a Guru (Preceptor), thought I,
since people say that Yoga cannot be practised without
a Guru. So began my search for a Guru.
In India those who have given up the world and con¬
secrated their whole life to spiritual effort sometimes
adopt the life of a traveller (Paribrajak) or undertake an
all-India pilgrimage. It is therefore not difficult to find
them in the vicinity of holy places like Hardwar, Benares,
Puri (or Jagannath) or Rameshwaram. Owing to its proxi¬
mity to Puri, Cuttack also attracted a large number of
them. These monks 1 are of two classes—those who be¬
long to some organisation, ‘Ashrama’ or ‘Muth’, and those
who are entirely free, have no organisation behind them,
and hate to get entangled in any way. Our group—for by
now we had a definite group-—became interested in all
the Sadhus who happened to visit the towm, and if any
member got information about any such visitor, he would
pass it at once to the rest. Various were the types whom
we visited, but I must say that those of the hermit type
were more likable. They would not care to have any dis¬
ciples and would spurn money in any form. If they wanted
to instruct anybody in Yoga, they would prefer those who
like themselves had no worldly attachment at all. The
Sadhus who belonged to an organisation or were them¬
selves married men did not appeal to me. They would
generally search for disciples among men of wealth and

1 Also called Sannyasis, Sadhus or fakirs, though fakirs are generally

Mohammedans by religion. These must be distinguished from priests.
Among the Hindus, priests are an integral part of society. They are
Brahmans and are generally married. They perform religious and social
ceremonies for the ordinary householder. Sadhus, on the other hand,
renounce caste and all their family relationship when they take to holy
orders. They do not as a rule perform religious or social ceremonies for
householders. Their sole function is to show to others the path of
spiritual progress. They may be regarded as outside the pale of social
conventions.
 AT SCHOOL (2) 43

position who, when recruited, would be an acquisition to

their organisation.
Once there came an old Sannyasi, more than ninety
years old, the head of a well-known Ashrama of all-India
repute, one of whose disciples was a leading medical prac¬
titioner of the town. It soon became the rage to visit him
and we too joined the crowd. After doing obeisance to
him we took our seats. He was very kind to us—in fact,
affectionate—and we were drawn towards him. Some
hymns were recited by his disciples to which we respect¬
fully listened. At the end we were given printed copies
of his teachings and were advised to follow them. We
inwardly resolved to do so —at least I did. The first item
was—eat neither fish nor flesh nor eggs. Our family diet
was non-vegetarian, and it was not possible to adhere to
vegetarian food without coming in for criticism and per¬
haps opposition. Nevertheless, I obeyed the mandate
despite all obstruction. The second item was daily re¬
citation of certain hymns. That was easy. But the next
item was formidable—the practice of submissiveness to
one’s parents. We had to begin the day by doing obeis¬
ance (pranam) to our parents. The difficulty about doing
this was a two-fold one. Firstly, there was never any
practice to do daily obeisance to our parents. Secondly,
I had passed the stage when I believed that obedience to
one’s parents was in itself a virtue. I was rather in a
mood to defy every 'obstacle to my goal, no matter from
what source it came. However, with a supreme effort of
the will, I mastered myself and marching straight to my
father in the morning, I made obeisance as instructed by
my preceptor.1 I can still recall the scene—how my father
was taken aback at this unexpected sight. He asked me
what was the matter, but without uttering a word I mar¬
ched back after doing my duty. Up till now I have not
the faintest notion of what he or my mother (who also had
to undergo the same exp ;rience) thought of me at that time.
It was nothing less than torture every morning to muster

1 Another friend of mine, kept me company in this.

44 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

sufficient strength of mind to go up to my parents and do

obeisance to them. Members of the family or even ser¬
vants must have wondered what had made the rebellious
boy suddenly so submissive. Little did they know perhaps
that behind this phenomenon was the hand of a Sadhu.
After some weeks, perhaps months, I began to ques¬
tion myself as to what I had gained from the above prac¬
tice and, not being satisfied with the reply, I gave it up. I
went back to the teachings of Ramakrishna and Viveka-
nanda. No realisation without renunciation—I told myself
again.
It would be a mistake to conclude that my conception
of a religious life was restricted to the practice of indivi¬
dualistic Yoga. Though for some time I went crazy over
Yogic exercise, it slowly dawned on me that for spiritual
development social service was necessary. The idea came
probably from Vivekananda for, as I have indicated above,
he had preached the ideal of the service of humanity which
included the service of one’s country. But he had further
enjoined on everyone to serve the poor, for according to
him God often comes to us in the form of the poor and
to serve the poor is to worship God. I remember that I
became very liberal with beggars, fakirs, and Sadhus, and
whenever any of them appeared before our house, I helped
them with whatever came within my reach. I derived
a peculiar satisfaction from the act of giving.
Before I was sixteen I had my first experience of
what may be glorified with the appellation of village re¬
construction work. We went to a village in the outskirts
of the town with the object of attempting some service.
We entered the village primary school and did some teach¬
ing. By the teachers and the villagers in general we
were warmly welcomed and we felt greatly encouraged.
We then proceeded to another village but met with a sad
experience there. When we entered the village, the villag¬
ers who had seen us from a distance collected in a body
and as we advanced, they began to retreat. It was
difficult to get at them or to talk to them as friends. We
were shocked to find that we were regarded not only as
 AT SCHOOL (2) 45

strangers but as suspicious characters or enemies, and it

did not take us long to understand that whenever well-
dressed men had come into the village they must have done
so as tax-collectors or in some similar capacity, and had be¬
haved in such a manner as to create this gulf between
the villagers and ourselves. A few years later, I was to
have a similar experience in some other villages in
Orissa.
It would be correct to say that, as long as I was at
school, I did not mature politically, though in other
matters I was inclined to be precocious. This was due
partly to my innate proclivity which pointed in a different
direction, partly to the fact that Orissa was a political
backwater, and partly to lack of inspiration within the
family circle. Occasionally I did hear about the affairs of
the Congress from my elder brothers, but that did not
make any impression on me. The first bomb thrown in
1908 created a stir everywhere and we too were momen¬
tarily interested. At the P. E. School where I then was,
our headmistress condemned the throwing of bombs. The
matter was soon forgotten however. About the same time
processions used to be brought out in the town to condemn
the partition of Bengal and to propagate the cause of
Swadeshi (Home-industry). They occasioned a mild in¬
terest, but politics was tabooed in our house—so we could
not take part in any political activity. Our interest some¬
times found expression in peculiar ways such as cutting
out pictures of revolutionaries from the papers and hang¬
ing them up in our study. One day we had a visitor, a
relative of ours and a police officer, who saw these pictures
and complained to my father, with the result that before
we returned from school the pictures were all removed,
much to our chagrin.
Up till December 1911 I was politically so undevelop¬
ed that I sat for an essay competition on the King’s
(George V) Coronation. Though I generally stood first in
English composition, I did not get the prize on this occa¬
sion. During the Christmas vacation I went to Calcutta
with the rest of the family when King George V visited
46 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

that city, and I returned in an enthusiastic frame of mind.

The first political impetus I received was in 1912
from a student1 about the same age as myself. He came
to Cuttack and Puri on a tour and was introduced to us
by Headmaster Beni Madhav Das. Before he came, he
was connected with a certain group2 in Calcutta which
had as its ideal—spiritual uplift and national service along
constructive lines. His visit to Cuttack came off at a time
when my mind was beginning to turn towards social and
national problems. In our group there was a friend who
was more interested in national service than in Yoga.
Another friend was always dreaming of the Bengali soldier,
Suresh Biswas, who had migrated to South America (I
think it was Brazil) and had made a name for himself
there. And as a stepping stone to such a career, this
friend was practising wrestling while some of us were busy
with Yoga. At a psychologically opportune moment, the
visitor talked to us passionately about our duty to our
country and about his group in Calcutta, and I was greatly
impressed. It was good to be linked up with an organisa¬
tion in the metropolis and we heartily welcomed his visit.
On his return to Calcutta, he made a report about us and
not long after we received a communication from the head
of the group. Thus began a connection which was to last
several years.
As I approached the end of my school career, my re¬
ligious impulse began to grow in intensity. Studies were
no longer of primary importance. The members of our
group would meet as frequently as possible and go out on
excursions. We could thereby keep away from home and
enjoy one another’s company longer. As a rule, the
teachers failed to inspire us—with the exception of one or
two who were followers of Ramakrishna and Vivekananda.
My parents’ Guru3 visited Cuttack about this time and,
while he was there, was able to rouse my religious interest

1H. K. s.
“The head of this group was one S. C. B. who was studying medi¬
cine.
This was their first Guru. After his death they received initiation
from another Guru.
 AT SCHOOL (2) 47

still further. But his inspiration did not go very far be¬
cause he was not a ‘Sannyasi’. Among the teachers there
was only one who was politically minded and, when we
were about to leave school, he congratulated me on decid¬
ing to go to Calcutta where I would meet people who could
inspire me politically.
I believe that impressions received in early life linger
long and, for good or for ill, have a potent influence on
the mind of the growing child. I remember that in in¬
fancy I often used to hear stories of ghosts, either from
servants or from older members of the family. One parti¬
cular tree was pointed out as being the favourite abode
of ghosts. These stories when narrated at night had a
most chilling effect. On a moonlit night after hearing
such a story it was easy to conjure up a ghost on a tree
out of the play of light and shade. One of our servants—
a Mohammedan cook—must have done as much, for one
night he declared that he was possessed by some spirit.
A sorcerer had to be called and the spirit exorcised. Such
experiences were reinforced from other quarters. For in¬
stance, we had a Mohammedan coachman who would tell
us how skilled he was in the art of exorcising spirits and
how often his services were requisitioned for that purpose.
According to him, he had to slit his forearm near the wrist
and offer the spirit some blood as a parting drink. One
could question his veracity, but the fact remains that we
did see sometimes fresh incisions on his wrist as well as
marks of old ones. He was also a bit of a Hakim 1 and
would prepare quack remedies for various ailments like
indigestion, diarrhoea, etc, I must say that such experi¬
ence in infancy did not have a particular wholesome
feffect on my mind and it required an effort to overthrow
such influences when I grew into boyhoods

1 There are two indigenous systems of medicine in India which are

still in vogue-Ayurveda and Unani. Those who practise the former are
called Kavirajes or Vaids, while those who practise the latter are called
Hakims. The Ayurvedic system comes down from the very ancient
times, while the Unani system, came into vogue at the time of the
Moghul Emperors. Though there are many quacks practising these
systems, there is no doubt that Kavirajes and Hakims sometimes effect
wonderful cures where Western doctors fail.
48 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

In this task of freeing my mind of superstitions, Vive-

kananda was of great help to me. The religion that he
preached-—including his conception of Yoga—was based
on a rational philosophy, on the Vedanta,1 and his con¬
ception of Vedanta was not antagonistic to, but was based
on, scientific principles.2 One of his missions in life was
to bring about a reconciliation between science and religion,
and this, he held, was possible through the Vedanta.
Those who tackle the problem of child education in
India will have to consider the uncongenial influences which
mould the child’s mind at the present day. Of allied in¬
terest is the question of the lullaby songs which are sung
by the mother, the aunt, or the nurse to rock the child
to sleep or of the means adopted to induce an unwilling
child to take its food. Too often the child is frightened
into doing both. In Bengal one of the most popular
lullaby songs describes the ‘Bargis’ (or the Pindari hordes)
raiding the countryside after nightfall. Certainly not a
congenial song for a sleepy child.
One will also have to consider the dreams which some¬
times disturb the child’s sleep and leave an effect on its
waking life as well. A knowledge of the psychology and
mechanism of dreams will enable the guardian or the tutor
to understand the child’s mind and thereby help it to over¬
come unwholesome influences preying on its mind. I say
this because I myself was troubled greatly by frightful
dreams about snakes, tigers, monkeys, and the like in my
early years. Only when I began experimenting with Yoga
in an empirical fashion later on, did I hit upon a mental
exercise which relieved me of such unpleasant dreams3
once for all.

1 Vedanta is a general term for the philosophical portion of the

Hindu Scriptures.
2 It should be remembered that Vivekananda was trained in Western
logic and philosophy and was inclined to be a sceptic and agnostic before
he came under the influence of Ramakrishna. Since he had an
emancipated mind, he could extract the essence of religion out of a
mass of superstitions and mystical accretions in which it is sometimes
found embedded in India.
31 shall have occasion to refer later on to other dreams which
disturbed me from time to time, e.g. sex-dreams, of university examina¬
tion, dreams of arrest and imprisonment, etc.
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 AT SCHOOL (2) 49

It is possible in a country like India and especially in

families where conservative, parochial, sectarian, or caste
influences reign supreme, to grow into maturity and even
obtain high University degrees without being really eman¬
cipated. It often happens, therefore, that at some stage
or other one has to revolt against social or family
conventions. I was lucky, however, that the environment
in which I grew up was on the whole conducive to the
broadening of my mind. In my infancy I was brought
into touch with English people, English education, and
English culture. After that I went back to our culture—
both classical and modern—and even while I was at school
I had inter-provincial contacts and friendship which I
would have been deprived of, if I had been living in Ben¬
gal. Lastly, my mental attitude towards Muslims in
general was largely, though unconsciously, influenced by
my early contacts. The quarter in which we lived was a
predominantly Muslim one and our neighbours were mostly
Muslims. They all looked up to father as ordinary
villagers do to a patriarch. We took part in their festivals,
like the Moharrum, for instance, and enjoyed their
akhara1. Among our servants were Muslims who were as
devoted to us as the others. At school I had Muslim
teachers and Muslim classmates with whom my relations—
as also the relations of other students—were perfectly cor¬
dial. In fact, I cannot remember ever to have looked
upon Muslims as different from ourselves in any way,
except that they go to pray in a mosque. And friction
or conflict between Hindus and Muslims was unknown in
my early days.
Though the atmosphere in which* I grew up was on
the whole liberalizing, there were occasions when I was
forced into a clash with social or family conventions. I
remember one incident when I was about fourteen or fif¬
teen. A class friend2 of mine who was also a neighbour
of ours invited some of us to dinner. My mother came to

1 Physical sports which Muslim indulge in on the occasion of the

Moharrum festival.
2 D.N.D.
50 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

know of it and gave instructions that no one was to go.

It might have been because his social status was lower
than ours, or because he belonged to a lower caste, or
simply because on medical grounds it was considered in¬
advisable to dine out. And it is true that very rarely did
we go anywhere for dinner. However, I regarded my
mother’s orders as unjustified and felt a peculiar pleasure
in defying them. When I took to religion and Yoga se¬
riously and wanted freedom to go where I liked and meet
whomsoever I wished, I frequently came up against paren¬
tal instructions. But I had no hesitation in disobeying
them because by that time I believed, under the inspiration
of Vivekananda, that revolt is necessary for self-fulfilment
—that when a child is born, its very cry is a revolt against
the bondage in which it finds itself.
Looking back on my school days I have no doubt that
I must have appeared to others as wayward, eccentric,
and obstinate. I was expected to do well at the Matricu¬
lation Examination and raise the prestige of the school and
great must have been the disappointment of my teachers
when they found me neglecting my studies and running
after ash-laden Sadhus. What my parents must have
thought and felt over a promising boy going off his head
can best be imagined. But nothing mattered to me except
my inner dreams, and the more resistance I met, the more
obstinate I became. My parents then thought that a
change of environment would perhaps do me good and
that in the realistic atmosphere of Calcutta I would shed
my eccentricities and take to a normal life like the rest of
my tribe.
I sat for the Matriculation Examination in March, 1913
and came out second in the whole University. My parents
were delighted and I was packed off to Calcutta.
 CHAPTER VI

PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1)

Little did my people know what Calcutta had in store for

me. I was separated from a small group of eccentric
school-boys whom I had gathered round myself in Cuttack.
But in Calcutta I found crowds of them. No wonder that
I soon became the despair of my parents.
This was not my first visit to Calcutta. I had been
there several times since my infancy, but every time this
great city had intrigued me, bewildered me beyond
measure. I had loved to roam about its wide streets and
among its gardens and museums and I had felt that one
could not see enough of it. It was like a leviathan which
one could look at from outside and go on admiring un¬
ceasingly. But this time I came to settle down there and
to mix with its inner life. I did not, of course, know then
that this was the beginning of a connection which would
perhaps last all my life.
Life in Calcutta, like life in any other modern metro¬
polis, is not good for everybody and it has been the ruin
of many promising souls. It might have proved disastrous
in my case, had not I come there with certain definite
ideas and principles fixed in my mind. Though I was
passing through a period of stormy transition when I left
school, I had by then made certain definite decisions for
myself—I was not going to follow the beaten track, come
what may; I was going to lead a life conducive to my
spiritual welfare and the uplift of humanity: I was going
to make a profound study of philosophy so that I could
solve the fundamental problems of life; in practical life I
was going to emulate Ramakrishna and Vivekananda as
far as possible and, in any case, I was not going in for
a worldly career. This was the outlook with which I
faced a new chapter in my life.
These decisions were not the offspring of one night’s
52 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

thought or the dictation of any one personality. It had

taken me months and years of groping to arrive at them.
I had looked into so many books and sat at the feet of
so many persons in order to discover how my life should
be shaped and what the highest ideals were that I could
hold up before myself. The discovery would have been
easy and the task of translating it into action still easier
if I had not been pulled by my lower self in one direction
and by family influence in another. Owing to this double
tension the latter portion of my school life was a period
of intense mental conflict and of consequent unhappiness.
The conflict itself was nothing new. Everybody who sets
up an ideal before himself or endeavours to strike out a
new path has to go through it. But my suffering was un¬
usually acute for two reasons. Firstly, the struggle over¬
took me too early in life. Secondly, the two conflicts came
upon me simultaneously. If I had encountered them
consecutively, the agony would have been greatly alle¬
viated. But man is not always the architect of his fate,
he is sometimes the creature of his circumstances.
The strain of a fight on two fronts was so great for
a highly-strung lad like myself that it was quite on the
cards that I would have ended in a breakdown or in some
mental aberration. That I did not do so was due either
to sheer luck or to some higher destiny, if one believes
in it. Now that I have come out of the ordeal com¬
paratively unscathed, I do not regret what I have been
through. I have this consolation to offer myself that the
struggle made a man of me. I gained self-confidence,
which I had lacked before and I succeeded in determining
some of the fundamental principles of my life. From my
experience, I may, however, warn parents and guardians
that they should be circumspect in dealing with children
possessing an emotional and sensitive nature. It is no use
trying to force them into a particular groove, for the more
they are suppressed, the more rebellious they become and
this rebelliousness may ultimately develop into rank way¬
wardness. On the other hand, sympathetic understand¬
ing combined with a certain amount of latitude may cure
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 53

them of angularities and idiosyncrasies. And when they

are drawn towards an idea which militates against worldly
notions, parents and guardians should not attempt to
thwart or ridicule them, but endeavour to understand them
and through understanding to influence them, should the
need arise.
What may be the ultimate truth about such notions
as God, soul and religion, from the purely pragmatic point
of view I may say that I was greatly benefited by my early
interest in religions and my dabbling in Yoga. I learnt
to take life seriously. Standing on the threshold of my
college career, I felt convinced that life had a meaning
and a purpose. To fulfil that purpose, a regular schooling
of the body and the mind was necessary. But for this
self-imposed schooling during my school-life, I doubt if I
would have succeeded in facing the trials and tribulations
of my later years, in view of the delicate constitution with
which I had been endowed from my birth.
I have indicated before that up to a certain stage in
my life I had fitted into my environment splendidly and
accepted all the social and moral values imposed from
without. This happens in the life of every human being.
Then there comes a stage of doubt—not merely intellectual
doubt like that of Descartes—but doubt embracing the
whole of life. Man begins to question his very existence
—why he was born, for what purpose he lives, and what
his ultimate goal is. If he comes to a definite conclusion,
whether of a permanent or of a temporary nature, on such
problems, it often happens that his outlook on life changes
—he begins to view everything from a different perspec¬
tive and goes in for a revaluation of existing social and
moral values. He builds up a new world of thought and
morality within himself and, armed with it, he faces the
external world. Thereafter, he either succeeds in mould¬
ing his environment in the direction of his ideal or fails
in the struggle and succumbs to reality as he finds it.
It depends entirely on a man’s psychic constitution
how far his doubt will extend and to what extent he would
like to reconstruct his inner life, as a stepping stone to-
54 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

wards the reconstruction of reality. In this respect, each

individual is a law unto himself (or herself). But in one
matter we stand on common ground. No great achieve¬
ment, whether internal or external, is possible without a
revolution in one’s life. And this revolution has two stages
—the stage of doubt or scepticism and the stage of re¬
construction. It is not absolutely necessary for revolu¬
tionising our practical life—whether individual or collec¬
tive—that we should tackle the more fundamental pro¬
blems, in relation to which we may very well have an
agnostic attitude. From the very ancient times, both in
the East and in the West, there have been schools of philo¬
sophy and ethics based on materialism or agnosticism. In
my own case, however, the religious pursuit was a prag¬
matic necessity. The intellectual doubt which assailed
me needed satisfaction and, constituted as I then was, that
satisfaction would not have been possible without some
rational philosophy. The philosophy which I found in
Vivekananda and in Ramakrishna came nearest to meeting
my requirements and offered a basis on which to recon¬
struct my moral and practical life. It equipped me with
certain principles with which to determine my conduct or
line of action whenever any problem or crisis arose be¬
fore my eyes.
That does not mean that all my doubts were set at
rest once for all. Unfortunately, I am not so unsophisti¬
cated as that. Moreover, progress in life means a series
of doubts followed by a series of attempts at resolving
them.
Perhaps the most bitter struggle I had with myself was
in the domain of sex-instinct. It required practically no
effort on my part to decide that I should not adopt a career
of self-preferment, but should devote my life to some
noble cause. It required some effort to school myself,
physically and mentally, for a life of service and unavoid¬
able hardship. But it required an unceasing effort, which
continues till today, to suppress or sublimate the sex-
instinct.
Avoidance of sexual indulgence and even control of
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 55

active sex-desire is, I believe, comparatively easy to attain.

But for one’s spiritual development, as understood by
Indian Yogis and Saints, that is not enough. The mental
background—the life of instinct and impulse—out of which
sex-desire arises has to be transformed. When this is
achieved, a man or woman loses all sex-appeal and becomes
impervious to the sex-appeal of others; he transcends sex
altogether. But is it possible or is it only mid-summer
madness ? According to Ramakrishna it is possible, and
until one attains this level of chastity, the highest reaches
of spiritual consciousness remain inaccessible to him.
Ramakrishna, we are told, was often put to the test by
people who doubted his spirituality and mental purity, but
on every occasion that he was thrown in the midst of at¬
tractive women, his reactions were non-sexual. In the
company of women, he could feel as an innocent child
feels in the presence of its mother. Ramakrishna used
always to say that gold and sex are the two greatest obs¬
tacles in the path of spiritual development and I took his
words as gospel truth.
In actual practice the difficulty was that the more I
concentrated on the suppression or sublimation of the sex-
instinct, the stronger it seemed to become, at least in the
initial stages. Certain psycho-physical exercises, includ¬
ing certain forms of meditation, were helpful in acquiring
sex-control. Though I gradually made progress, the de¬
gree of purity which Ramakrishna had insisted on, seemed
impossible to reach. I persisted in spite of temporary
fits of depression and remorse, little knowing at the time
how natural the sex-instinct was to the human mind. As
I desired to continue the struggle for the attainment of
perfect purity, it followed that I had to visualise the future
in terms of a celibate life.
It is now a moot question whether we should spend
so much of our time and energy in trying to eradicate or
sublimate an instinct which is as inherent in human nature
as in animal life. Purity and continence in boyhood and
in youth are of course necessary, but what Ramakrishna
and Vivekananda demanded was much more than that.
56 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

nothing less than complete transcending of sex-conscious¬

ness. Our stock of physical and psychic energy is, after
all, limited. Is it worth while expending so much of it in
an endeavour to conquer sex ? Firstly, is complete con¬
quest of sex-that is, a complete transcending or sublima¬
tion of the sex-instinct, indispensable to spiritual advance¬
ment ? Secondly, even if it is, what is the relative im¬
portance of sex-control1 in a life which is devoted not
so much to spiritual development as to social service—-the
greatest good of the greatest number ? Whatever the
answer to these two questions may be, in the year 1913
when I joined College, it was almost a fixed idea with me
that conquest of sex was essential to spiritual progress,
and that without spiritual uplift human life had little or
no value. But though I was at grips with the demon of
sex-instinct, I was still far from getting it under control.
If I could live my life over again, I should not in all
probability give sex the exaggerated importance which I
did in my boyhood and youth. That does not mean that
I regret what I did. If I did err in overemphasising the
importance of sex-control, I probably erred on the right
side, for certain benefits did accrue therefrom—though
perhaps incidentally. For instance, it made me prepare
myself for a life which did not follow the beaten track
and in which there was no room for ease, comfort, and
self-aggrandisement.
To resume my story, I joined the Presidency College,
then regarded as the premier College of the Calcutta Uni¬
versity. I had three months’ holiday before the colleges
were to reopen after the summer vacation. But I lost no
time in getting into touch with that group, an emissary of
which I had met a year ago in Cuttack. A lad of sixteen
usually feels lost in a big city like Calcutta, but such was
not the case with me. Before the College opened I had
made myself at home in Calcutta and found a number of
friends of my choice.
The first few days of College life were interesting to

1 As I have gradually turned from a purely spiritual ideal to a

lire of social service, my views on sex have undergone transformation.
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 57

a degree. The standard of the Matriculation Examination

being lower in Indian than in British Universities, Indian
Matriculates enter College earlier than British boys do. I
was barely sixteen and a half years old when I walked
into the precincts of Presidency College; nevertheless, like
so many others, I felt as if I was suddenly entering into
man’s estate. That was indeed a pleasurable feeling. We
had ceased to be boys and were now men. The first few
days were spent in taking stock of our class-mates and
sizing them up. Everybody seemed to be anxious to have
a look at those who had come out at the top. Hailing
from a district towrn I was inclined to be shy and reserved
at first. Some of the students coming from Calcutta
schools, like the Hindu and Hare Schools, had a tendency
to be snobbish and give themselves airs. But they could
not carry on like that, because the majority of the higher
places at the Matriculation Examination had been cap¬
tured by boys from other schools and, moreover, we were
soon able to hold our own against the metropolitans.
Before long I began to look out for men of my own
way of thinking among my class-mates. Birds of a feather
flock together—so I managed to get such a group. It
was unavoidable that we should attract a certain amount
of attention because we consciously wore a puritanic ex¬
terior; but we did not care. In those days one could ob¬
serve several groups 1 among the College students, each
with a distinctive character. There was firstly a group
consisting of the sons of Rajas and rich folks and those
who preferred to hobnob with them. They dressed well
and took a dilettante interest in studies. Then there was
a group of bookworms—well-meaning, goody-goody boys
with sallow faces and thick glasses. Thirdly, there was a
group similar to ours consisting of earnest boys who con¬
sidered themselves the spiritual heirs of Ramakrishna and
Vivekananda. Last but not least, there existed a secret
group of revolutionaries about whose existence most of
the students were quite unaware. The character of Pre-

1 Sometimes these groups ran into one another.

58 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

sidency College itself was different from what it is now.1

Though it was a Government institution, the students as
a rule were anything but loyalist. This was due to the
fact that the best students were admitted into the College
without any additional recommendations and regardless of
their parentage. In the councils of the C.I.D.,2 the Presi¬
dency College students had a bad name—so ran the ru¬
mour. The main hostel of the College, known as the Eden
Hindu Hostel, was looked upon as a hot-bed of sedition, a
rendezvous of revolutionaries, and was frequently search¬
ed by the police.
For the first two years of my College life I was greatly
under the influence of the group referred to above and I
developed intellectually during this period. The group
consisted mainly of students, the leaders being two stu¬
dents of the Medical College.3 It followed generally the
teachings of Ramakrishna and Vivekananda but empha¬
sised service as a means to spiritual development. It in¬
terpreted social service not in terms of building hospitals
and charitable dispensaries, as the followers of Viveka¬
nanda were inclined to do, but as national reconstruction,
mainly in the educational sphere.4 Vivekananda’s teach¬
ings had been neglected by his own followers—by the
Ramakrishna Mission which he had founded—and we
were going to give effect to them. We could therefore be
called the neo-Vivekananda group, and our main object
was to bring about a synthesis between religion and
nationalism, not merely in the theoretical sphere but in
practical life as well. The emphasis on nationalism was
inevitable in the political atmosphere of Calcutta of those
days.
When I left Cuttack in 1913 my ideas were altogether
nebulous. I had a spiritual urge and a vague idea of social
service of some sort. In Calcutta I learnt that social ser-

1 The presence of men like the late Sir J. C. Bose and Sir P. C.
Ray among the prefessorial staff also had some effect.
2 India’s Scotland Yard (Criminal Investigation Department).
3 S. C. B. and J. K. A.
4 Possibly the example of the Christian Missionaries had some in¬
fluence.
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 59

vice was an integral part of Yoga and it meant not merely

relief to the halt, the maimed and the blind, but national
reconstruction on modern lines. Beyond this stage, the
group did not travel for a long time, because like myself
it was groping for more light and for a clarification of its
practical ideals. There was one thing highly creditable
about the group—its members were exceedingly alert and
active, many of them being brilliant scholars. The acti¬
vity of the group manifested itself in three directions.
There was a thirst for new ideas; so new books on philo¬
sophy, history, and nationalism were greedily devoured
and the information thus acquired was passed on to
others. Members of the group were also active in recruit¬
ing new members from different institutions in various
cities, with the result that before long the group had wide
contacts. Thirdly, the members were active in making
contacts with the prominent personalities of the day.
Holidays would be utilised for visiting the holy cities like
Benares or Hardwar with the hope of meeting men who
could give spiritual light and inspiration, while those in¬
terested in national history would visit places of historical
importance and study history on the spot. I once joined
a touring party who journeyed for seven days, book in
hand, in the environs of Murshidabad, the pre-British
capital of Bengal, and we thereby acquired more insight
into the previous history of Bengal than we would have
done if we had studied at home or at school for months.
On some important questions the ideas of the group
were in a state of flux, Such was the question of our re¬
lations with our respective families. The name, constitu¬
tion, plan of work, etc. of the group were not settled
either. But our ideas slowly moved in the direction of a
first-class educational institution which would turn out
real men and would have branches in different places.
Some members of the group interested themselves in the
study of existing educational institutions like Tagore’s
Santi-Niketan and the Gurukul University in Upper India.
In recruiting new members, attention was given to enlist¬
ing brilliant students studying different subjects, so that
60 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

we would have trained professors in all the subjects when

the time came for us to launch our scheme. The group
stood for celibacy and the leaders held that a breach
with one’s family was inevitable at some stage or other.
But the members were not given any clear direction to
break with their families, though the way they moved
about made it inevitable that their families would be es¬
tranged. Most of the weekends were spent away from
home, often without permission. Sometimes institutions
like the Ramakrishna Mission’s Muth at Belur would be
visited. Sometimes important personalities,1 generally
religious people, would be interviewed. Sometimes our
own members in different places would invite us and we
would spend a day or two with them. Outside college
hours most of my time would be spent in the company of
members of the group. Home had no attraction for me—
for it was a world quite different from that of my dreams.
The dualism in my life continued and it was a source of
unhappiness. This was accentuated whenever unfavour¬
able comments were made at home about my ideas or
activities.
Politically, the group was against terroristic activity
and secret conspiracy of every sort. The group was there¬
fore not so popular among the students, for in those days
the terrorist-revolutionary movement had a peculiar fasci¬
nation for the students of Bengal. Even those who would
keep at a safe distance from such an organisation would
not withhold their sympathy and admiration, so long as
they did not land themselves in trouble. Occasionally
there would be friction between members of our group
and members of some terrorist-revolutionary organisations
engaged in recruiting. Once a very interesting incident
took place. Since our group was very active, the C.I.D.
became very suspicious about its real character, wonder¬
ing if there was anything hidden behind a religious ex¬
terior. Steps were taken to arrest a member whom they

1 We visited the poet Rabirfdra Nath Tagore and he gave a dis¬

course on village reconstruction. This was in 1914, vears before the
Congress took up this work.
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 61

considered to be the leader of the group. At this juncture

the police intercepted some correspondence passing be¬
tween members of a terrorist-revolutionary organisation,
in which there was a proposal to liquidate the above leader
of our group for luring away some of its members into
the path of non-violence. The correspondence revealed
our real character to the police and thereby not only pre¬
vented the arrest but saved us from police persecution
which would otherwise have been unavoidable. In the
winter of 1913 we had a camp at Santipur, a place 50 miles
from Calcutta on the river Hooghly, where we lived as
monks wearing orange-coloured clothes. We were raided
by the police and all our names and addresses were taken
down, but no serious trouble followed beyond an enquiry
into our antecedents.
In my undergraduate days Arabindo Ghose was easily
the most popular leader in Bengal, despite his voluntary
exile and absence since 1909. His was a name to conjure
with. He had sacrificed a lucrative career in order to
devote himself to politics. On the Congress platform he
had stood up as a champion of left-wing thought and a
fearless advocate of independence at a time when most
of the leaders, with their tongues in their cheeks, would
talk only of colonial self-government. He had undergone
incarceration with perfect equanimity. His close asso¬
ciation with Lokamanya B. G. Tilak1 had given him an
all-India popularity, while rumour and official allegation
had given him an added prestige in the eyes of the gene¬
ration by connecting him with his younger brother
Barindra Kumar Ghose, admittedly the pioneer of the
terrorist movement. Last but not least, a mixture of spiri¬
tuality and politics had given him a halo of mysticism and
made his personality more fascinating to those who were
religiously inclined. When I came to Calcutta in 1913,
Arabindo was already a legendary figure. Rarely have I seen
people speak of a leader with such rapturous enthusiasm

1 Lokamanya Tilak was popularly known as ‘Bardada’ or Elder

brother and Arabindo as ‘Chotdada’ or Younger brother. Tilak was the
leader of the left-wing or “extremist” party in the Congress.
62 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

and many were the anecdotes of this great man, some of

them probably true, which travelled from mouth to mouth.
I heard, for instance, that Arabindo had been in the habit
of indulging in something like automatic writing. In a
state of semi-trance, pencil in hand, he would have a
written dialogue with his own self, giving him the name
of ‘Manik’. During his trial, the police came across some
of the papers in which the ‘conversations’ with ‘manik’
were recorded, and one day the police prosecutor, who
was excited over the discovery, stood up before the Court
and gravely asked for a warrant against a new conspirator,
‘Manik’, to the hilarious amusement of the gentlemen in
the dock.
In those days it was freely rumoured that Arabindo
had retired to Pondicherry for twelve years’ meditation.
At the end of that period he would return to active life
as an “enlightened” man, like Gautama Buddha of old, to
effect the political salvation of his country. Many people
seriously believed this, especially those who felt that it
was well nigh impossible to successfully contend with the
British people on the physical plane without the aid of
some supernatural force. It is highly interesting to ob¬
serve how the human mind resorts to spiritual nostrums
when it is confronted with physical difficulties of an in¬
surmountable character. When the big agitation started
after the Partition of Bengal in 1905, several mystic stories
were in circulation. It was said, for instance, that on the
final day of reckoning with the British there would be a
“march of the blanketeers” into Fort William in Calcutta.
Sannyasis or fakirs with blankets on their shoulders would
enter the Fort. The British troops would stand stock-still,
unable to move or fight, and power would pass into the
hands of people. Wish is father to the thought and we
loved to hear and to believe such stories in our boyhood.
As a College student it was not the mysticism
surrounding Arabindo’s name which attracted me, but his
writings and also his letters. Arabindo was then editing
a monthly journal called Arya in which he expounded his
philosophy. He used also to write to certain select people
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 63

in Bengal. Such letters would pass rapidly from hand to

hand, especially in circles interested in spirituality-cum-
politics. In our circle somebody would read the letter
aloud and the rest of us would enthuse over it. In one
such letter Arabindo wrote, “We must be dynamos of the
divine electricity so that when each of us stands up, thou¬
sands around may be full of the light—full of bliss and
Ananda.” We felt convinced that spiritual enlightenment
was necessary for effective national service.
But what made a lasting appeal to me was not such
flashy utterances. I was impressed by his deeper philo¬
sophy. Shankara’s doctrine of Maya was like a thorn in
my flesh. I could not accommodate my life to it nor could
I easily get rid of it. I required another philosophy to
take its place. The reconciliation between the One and
the Many, between God and Creation, which Ramakrishna
and Vivekananda had preached, had indeed inpressed me
but had not till then succeeded in liberating me from the
cobwebs of Maya. In this task of emancipation, Arabindo
came as an additional help. He worked out a reconcilia¬
tion between Spirit and Matter, between God and Creation,
on the metaphysical side and supplemented it with a syn¬
thesis of the methods of attaining the truth—a synthesis
of Yoga, as he called it. Thousands of years ago the
Bhagavad Gita had spoken about the different Yogas—
Jnana Yoga or the attainment of truth through knowledge;
Bhakti Yoga or the attainment of truth through devotion
and love; Karma Yoga or the attainment of truth through
selfless action. To this, other schools of Yoga had been
added later—Hatha Yoga aiming at control over the body
and Raja Yoga aiming at control over the mind through
control of the breathing apparatus. Vivekananda had no
doubt spoken of the need of Jnana (knowledge), Bhakti
(devotion and love) and Karma (selfless action) in deve¬
loping an all-round character, but there was something
original and unique in Arabindo’s conception of a synthesis
of Yoga. He tried to show how by a proper use of the
different Yogas one could rise step by step to the highest
truth. It was so refreshing, so inspiring, to read Ara-
64 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

bindo’s writings as a contrast to the denunciation of

knowledge and action by the later-day Bengal Vaishnavas.
All that was needed in my eyes to make Arabindo an ideal
guru for mankind was his return to active life.
Of quite a different type from Arabindo was Surendra
Nath Banerji, once the hero of Bengal and certainly one
of the makers of the Indian National Congress. I saw him
for the first time at a meeting of the Calcutta Town Hall1
in connection with Mahatma Gandhi’s Satyagraha2 cam¬
paign in South Africa. Surendra Nath was still in good
form and with his modulated voice and rolling periods he
was able to collect a large sum of money at the meeting.
But despite his flowery rhetoric and consummate oratory,
he lacked that deeper passion which one could find in
such simple words of Arabindo: “I should like to see
some of you becoming great; great not for your own sake,
but to make India great, so that she may stand up with
head erect amongst the free nations of the world. Those
of you who are poor and obscure—I should like to see
your poverty and obscurity devoted to the service of the
motherland. Work that she might prosper, suffer that she
might rejoice.” 3
So long as politics did not interest me, my attention
was directed towards two things—meeting as many reli¬
gious teachers as possible and qualifying for social service.
I doubt if there was any religious group or sect in or near
Calcutta with whom we did not come into contact. With
regard to social service, I had some novel and interesting
experience. When I became eager to do some practical
work, I found out a society for giving aid to the poor.
This society 1 used to collect money and foodstuffs every
Sunday by begging from door to door. The begging used
to be done by student-volunteers and I became one of

1 This was probably towards the end of 1913 or the beginning of

1914.
“ This may be paraphiased as passive resistance or Tivil disobe¬
dience .
3 An extract from a political speech of Arabindo which mv eldest
brother was fond of repeating.
1 The Anath Bhandar of South Calcutta.
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 65

them. The collections used to consist mainly of rice, and

each volunteer had to bring in between 80 and 160 lbs.
of rice at the end of his round. The first day I went out
sack in hand for collecting rice, I had to overcome for¬
cibly a strong sense of shame, not having been accustomed
to this sort of work. Up to this day I do not know if the
members of our family were ever aware of this activity
of mine. The sense of shame troubled me for a long time
and, whenever there was any fear of coming across a
known face, I simply did not look to the right or to the
left but jogged along with sack in my hand or over my
shoulders.
At college I began to neglect my studies. Most of the
lectures were uninteresting 1 and the professors still more
so. I would sit absent-minded and go on philosophizing
about the why and wherefore of such futile studies. Most
boring of all was the professor of mathematics whose for¬
mulae would bring me to the verge of desperation. To
make life more interesting and purposeful, I engaged in
various public activities of the student community, barring
sports of course. I also went out of my way to get ac¬
quainted with such professors as Sir P. C. Ray the eminent
chemist and philanthropist, who did not belong to our
department but was extremely popular with the students.
Organising debates, collecting funds for flood and famine
relief, representing the students before the authorities,
going out on excursions with fellow-students—such acti¬
vities were most congenial to me. Very slowly I was
shedding my introvert tendencies and social service was
gaining ground on the individualistic Yoga.
I sometimes wonder how at a particular psychological
moment a small incident can exert a far-reaching influence
on our life. In front of our house in Calcutta, an old, decre¬
pit beggar woman used to sit every day and beg for alms.
Every time I went out or came in, I could not help seeing
her. Her sorrowful countenance and her tattered clothes
pained me whenever I looked at her or even thought of

1 This impression must have been due partly to the fact that my
interest in studies had flagged.
66 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

her. By contrast, I appeared to be so well off and com¬

fortable that I used to feel like a criminal. What right had I
—I used to think—to be so fortunate to live in a three¬
storied house when this miserable beggar woman had
hardly a roof over her head and practically no food or
clothing? What was the value of Yoga if so much misery
was to continue in the world? Thoughts like these made
me rebel against the existing social system.
But what could I do? A social system could not be
demolished or transformed in a day. Something had to
be done for this beggar woman in the meantime and that
unobtrusively. I used to get money from home for going
to and returning from College by tramcar. This I resolved
to save and spend in charity. I would often walk back
from College—a distance of over three miles—and some¬
times even walk to it when there was sufficient time. This
lightened my guilty conscience to some extent.
During the first year in College I returned to Cuttack
to spend the vacations there with my parents. My
Calcutta record was much worse than my Cuttack record,
so there was no harm in letting me return to my friends
there. At Cuttack, though I had regularly roamed about
with my friends, I had never absented myself from home
at night. But in Calcutta I would often be absent for days
without obtaining permission. On returning to Cuttack, I
got into my old set again. Once, when my parents were
out of town, I was invited to join a party of friends who
were going into the interior on a nursing expedition in a
locality which was stricken with cholera. There was no
medical man in the party. We had only a half-doctor,
whose belongings consisted of a book on homoeopathy, a
box of homoeopathic medicines, and plenty of common
sense. We were to be the nurses in the party. I readily
agreed and took leave of my uncle, who was then doing
duty for my father, saying that I would be away a few
days. He did not object, not knowing at the time that I
was going out to nurse cholera patients. I was out for
only a week, as my uncle came to know of our real plans
a few days after I had left and sent another uncle posthaste
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 67

after me to bring me back. The searching party had to

scour the countryside before they could spot us.
In those days cholera was regarded as a fatal disease
and it was not easy to get people to attend cholera patients.
Our party was absolutely fearless in that respect. In fact,
we took hardly any precautions against infection and we
all lived and dined together. In the way of actual medical
relief, I do not think we could give much. Many had died
before we arrived there and, among the patients we found
and nursed, the majority did not recover. Nevertheness,
a week’s experience opened a new world before my eyes
and unfolded a picture of real India, the India of the
villages—where poverty stalks over the land, men die like
flies, and illiteracy is the prevailing order. We had very
little with us in the way of bedding and clothing, because
we had to travel light in order to be able to cover long
distances on foot. We ate what we could get in the way
of food and slept where we could. For me, one of the
most astonishing things was the surprise with which we
were greeted when we first arrived on the scene of our
humanitarian efforts. It intrigued the poor villagers to
know why we had come there. Were we Government
officials? Officials had never come to nurse them before.
Neither had well-to-do people from the town bothered
about them. They therefore concluded that we must have
undertaken this tour in order to acquire reputation or
merit. It was virtually impossible to knock this idea out
of their heads.
When I was back in Calcutta the craze for ‘sadhu’-
hunting continued. About sixty miles from the city, on
the bank of a river near a district town, there lived a
young ascetic hailing from the Punjab. Along with a
friend of mine 1 I would visit him frequently whenever I
could get away from Calcutta. This ascetic would never
take shelter under a roof, for the ideal which he practised
evidently was :
“The sky thy roof, the grass thy bed,
And food what chance may bring.’

1 H. K. S.
68 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

I was greatly impressed by this man—his complete re¬

nunciation of worldly desires, his utter indifference to
heat, cold1 etc. his mental purity and loving tempera¬
ment. He would never ask for anything, but, as often
happens in India, crowds 2 would come to him and offer
food, clothing etc. and he would take only his minimum
requirements. If only he had been more intellectually de¬
veloped, he could have lured me from my worldly moor¬
ings.
After I came into contact with this ascetic, the desire
to find a guru grew stronger and stronger within me and
in the summer vacation of 1914, I quietly left on a pil¬
grimage with another friend 3 of mine. I borrowed some
money from a class friend who was getting a scholarship
and repaid him later from my scholarship. Of course, I
did not inform anybody at home and simply wrote a
postcard when I was far away. We visited some of the
well-known places of pilgrimage in Upper India—Lach-
man-Jhola, Hrishikesh, Hardwar, Muttra, Brindaban,
Benares, Gaya. At Hardwar we were joined by another
friend. In between we also visited places of historical in¬
terest like Delhi and Agra. At all these places we looked
up as many Sadhus as we could and visited several
‘Ashramas’4 as well as educational institutions like Guru-
kul and Rishikul.5 At one of the Ashramas in Hardwar
they felt uncomfortable when we went there, not knowing
if we were really spiritually minded youths or were revo¬
lutionaries appearing in that cloak. This tour which lasted
nearly two months brought us in touch not only with a
number of holy men, but also with some of the patent

1 When it was about midday, he would light five fires (Panchagni)

and sitting in the middle, would practise meditation in the scorping sun.
He told me that snakes would often crawl over his body at night but that
did not disturb his sleep.
“ Among his visitors were the C.I.D. Police who wanted to know
if he was merely a harmless ascetic.
3 H. P. C.
4 These are homes for ascetics. Nowdays there are also Ashramas
for political workers.
1 r^j3e;se. are institutions based on ancient Hindu ideals. The
Gurukul being connected with the Arya Samaj is naturally more re¬
formist m outlook than the Rishikul, especially in the matter of caste.
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 69

shortcomings of Hindu society, and I returned home a

wiser man, having lost much of my admiration for asce¬
tics and anchorites. It was well that I had this experience
off my own bat, for in life there are certain things which
we have to learn for ourselves.
The first shock that I received was when, at an eat¬
ing-house in Hardwar, they refused to serve us food.
Bengalees, they said, were unclean like Christians because
they ate fish. We could bring our plates and they would
pour out the food, but we have to go back to our lodging
and eat there. Though one of my friends was a Brahman,
he too had to eat the humble pie. At Buddha-Gaya we had
a similar experience. We were guests at a Muth to which
we have been introduced by the head of the Ramakrishna
Mission at Benares. When we were to take our food we
were asked if we would not like to sit separately, because
all of us were not of the same caste. I expressed my
surprise at this question because they were followers of
Shankaracharya, and I quoted a verse 1 of his in which
he had advised to give up all sense of difference. They could
not challenge my statement because I was on strong
ground. The next day when we went for a bath we were
told by some men there not to draw the water from the
well because we were not Brahmans. Fortunately, my
Brahman friend, who was in the habit of hanging his
sacred thread on a peg, had it on him at the moment.
With a flourish he pulled it out from under his chaddar
and just to defy them he began to draw the water and
pass it on to us, much to their discomfiture.2
At Muttra we lived in the house of a Panda3 and
visited a hermit who was living in an underground room
on the other bank of the river. He strongly advised us
to return home and to give up all ideas of renouncing
the world. I remember I was greatly annoyed at a hermit

1 Sarvatotsrija Bheda-Jnanam.
2 All this happened in 1914. But India is now a changed country.
3 A Panda is a Brahman priest attached to one of the temples. He
runs a boarding-house where pilgrims visiting the place come and stay.
Many of them are regular blood suckers and make the life of the
pilgrims miserable from the time they reach the railway station.
70 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

speaking in that fashion. While we were at Muttra we

became very friendly with an Arya Samajist1 living next
door. This was too much for our Panda who gave us a
warning that these Arya Samajists were dangerous men
since they denounced image-worship.
The monkeys at Muttra who could not be kept down
in any way were a regular pest. If any door or window
was left ajar for any brief moment they would force their
way in and carry away what they found or tear it into
bits. We were not sorry to leave Muttra and from there
we proceeded to Brindaban where on arrival we were
surrounded by several Pandas who offered us board and
lodging. To get out of their cluthes we said that we
wanted to go to the Gurukul institution. At once they put
their fingers to their ears and said that no Hindu should
go there. However, they were good enough to spare us
their company.
Several miles away from Brindaban at a place called
Kusuin Sarobar, a number of Vaishnava asceties were
living in single-roomed cottages amid groves where deer
and peacocks were roaming. It was indeed a beautiful
spot—‘meet nurse’ for a religious mind. We visited them
and were given a warm welcome and spent several days
in their company. In that brotherhood was one Mouni
Baba who had not spoken a word for ten years. The
leader or guru of this colony was one Ramakrishnadas
Babaji who was well-versed in Hindu philosophy. In his talks
he maintained the position that the Vaishnavic doctrine of
Dwaitadwaita 2 represented a further progress beyond the
Adwaita doctrine of Monism of Shankaracharya. At that
time Shankaracharya’s doctrine represented to me the
quintessence of Hindu philosophy—though I could not
adapt my life to it and found the teaching of Ramakrishna

1 The Arya Samaj was founded by Dayananda Saraswati. It aimed

at a purification of Hindu religion and Hindu society by reverting to
th pristine purity of the ancient times and of the original scriptures—the
Vedas. The Arya Samaj does not believe in image-worship or in the
caste system. In this respect it is similar to the Brahmo Samaj. The
Arya Samaj has a large following in the Punjab and also in the United
Provinces.
2 This could perhaps be translated as ‘Dualism beyond Monism’.
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (1) 71

and Vivekananda to be more practical—and I did not relish,

hearing Shankaracharya assailed by anyone. On the
whole, I enjoyed my stay at Kusum Sarobar and we left
with a very high opinion of the ascetics there.
Coming to Benares we were welcomed at the Rama-
krishna Mission’s Muth by the late Swami Brahmananda
who knew my father and our family quite well. While I
was there, a great deal of commotion was taking place at
home. My parents who had waited long for my return
were now feeling desperate. Something had to be done
by my brothers and uncles. But what could they do ?
To inform the police did not appeal to them, for they were
afraid that the police might harass more than they might
help. So they betook themselves to a fortune-teller who
had a reputation for honesty. This gentleman after tak¬
ing counsel with the spirits announced that I was hale and
hearty and was then at a place to the north-west of Calcutta,
the name of which began with the letter B. It was imme¬
diately decided that place must be Baidyanath 1 for there
was an Ashrama there at the head of which was a well-
known Yogi. No sooner was this decision made than one
of my uncles was packed off there to get hold of me. But
it proved to be a wild-goose chase for I was then at
Benares.
After an exciting experience I turned up one fine
morning quite unexpectedly. I was not repentant for hav¬
ing taken French leave, but I was somewhat crest fallen,
not having found the guru I had wanted so much. A few
days later I was in bed, down with typhoid—the price of
pilgrimage and guru-hunting. Not even the soul can make
the body defy the laws of health with impunity.
While I lay in bed the Great War broke out.

1 Or rather Vaidyanath; in Bengali the pronunciation would be the

 CHAPTER VII

PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (2)

In spite of the political atmosphere of Calcutta and the

propaganda carried on among the students by the terrorist-
revolutionaries, I wonder how I would have developed
politically, but for certain fortuitous circumstances. I
often met, either in College or in the Hostel, several of
those who—I learnt afterwards—were important men in
the terrorist-revolutionary movement and who later were
on the run. But I was never drawn towards them, not
because I believed in non-violence as Mahatma Gandhi
does, but because I was then living in a world of my own
and held that the ultimate salvation of our people would
come through the process of national reconstruction. I
must confess that the ideas of our group as to how we
would be ultimately liberated were far from clear. In
fact, it was sometimes seriously discussed whether it would
not be a feasible plan to let the British manage the de¬
fence of India and reserve the civil administration to our¬
selves. But two things forced me to develop politically
and to strike out an independent line for myself—the be¬
haviour of Britishers in Calcutta and the Great War.
Since I left the P. E. School in January, 1909, I had
had very little to do with Britishers. Between 1909 and
1913, only occasionally did I see a Britisher—perhaps
some official visiting the school. In the town of Cuttack,
too, I saw little of them, for they were few and lived in
a remote part. But in Calcutta it was different. Every
day while going to or returning from College, I had to
pass through the quarter inhabited by them. Incidents
in tram-cars occurred not infrequently. Brishers using
these cars would be purposely rude and offensive to
Indians in various ways. Sometimes they would put their
feet up on the front-seats if they happened to be occupied
by Indians, so that their shoes would touch the bodies of
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (2) 73

the latter. Many Indians—poor clerks going to office—

would put up with the insult, but it was difficult for others
to do so. I was not only sensitive by temperament but
had been accustomed to a different treatment from my in¬
fancy. Often hot words would pass between Britishers
and myself in the tram-cars. On rare occasions some
Indian passengers would come to blows with them. On
the streets the same thing happened. Britishers expected
Indians to make way for them and if the latter did not
do so, they were pushed aside by force or had their ears
boxed. British Tommies were worse than civilians in this
matter and among them the Gordon Highlanders had the
worst reputation. In the railway trains it was sometimes
difficult for an Indian to travel with self-respect, unless
he was prepared to fight. The railway authorities or the
police would not give the Indian passengers any legitimate
protection, either because they were Britishers (or Anglo-
Indians) themselves or because they were afraid of re¬
porting against Britishers to the higher authorities. I
remember an incident at Cuttack when I was a mere boy.
One of my uncles had to return from the railway station
because Britishers occupying the higher class compart¬
ments would not allow an Indian to come in. Occasionally
we would hear stories of Indians in high position, includ¬
ing High Court Judges, coming into conflict with Britishers
in railway trains. Such stories had a knack of travelling
far and wide.
Whenever I came across such an incident my dreams
would suffer a rude shock, and Shankaracharya’s Doctrine
of Maya would be shaken to its very foundations. It was
quite impossible to persuade myself that to be insulted
by a foreigner was an illusion that could be ignored. The
situation would be aggravated if any Britishers on the
College staff were rude or offensive to us. Unfortunately
such instances were not rare.1 I had some personal ex¬
perience of them during my first year in College but they

1 Before my time on several occasions English professors had been

thrashed by the students. These stories were carefully chronicled and
handed down from generation to generation.
74 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

were not of a serious nature, though they were enough

to stir up bitterness.
In conflicts of an inter-racial character the law was
of no avail to Indians. The result was that after some
time Indians, failing to secure any other remedy, began
to hit back. On the streets, in the tram-cars, in the rail¬
way trains, Indians would no longer take things lying
down.1 The effect was instantaneous. Everywhere the
Indian began to be treated with consideration. Then the
word went round that Englishman understands and res¬
pects physical force and nothing else. This phenomenon
was the psychological basis of the terrorist-revolutionary
movement—at least in Bengal.
Such experience as related above naturally roused my
political consciousness but it was not enough to give a de¬
finite turn to my mental attitude. For that the shock of
the Great War was necessary. As I lay in bed in July,
1914, glancing through the papers and somewhat disillu¬
sioned about Yogis and ascetics, I began to re-examine all
my ideas to revalue all the hitherto accepted values. Was
it possible to divide a nation’s life into two compartments
and hand over one of them to the foreigner, reserving
the other to ourselves ? Or was it incumbent on us to
accept or reject life in its entirety ? The answer that I
gave myself was a perfectly clear one. If India was to be
a modern civilised nation, she would have to pay the
price and she would not by any means shirk the physical,
the military, problem. Those who worked for the country’s
emancipation would have to be prepared to take charge of
both the civil and military administration. Political free¬
dom was indivisible and meant complete independence of
foreign control and tutelage. The war had shown that a
nation that did not possess military strength could not hope
to preserve its independence.
After my recovery I resumed my usual activities and
spent most of my time with my friends, but inwardly I

11 knew a student in College, a good boxer, who would go out

for his constitutional to the British quarter of the city and invite quarrels
with Tommies.
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (2) 75

had changed a great deal. Our group was developing

rapidly, in number and in quality. One of the leading
members, a promising doctor,1 was sent to England for
further studies so that on his return he could be of greater
assistance to the group and greater service to the country.
Everyone who could afford it contributed his mite towards
his expenses and I gave a portion of my scholarship. Fol¬
lowing this, another leading member accepted a commi¬
ssion in the Indian Medical Service, and it was hoped that
he would thereby gain valuable experience and also lay
by some money for future work.
After two years’ hectic life my studies were in a hope¬
less condition. At the Intermediate Examination in 1915,
though I was placed in the first devision (which, by the
way, was an easy affair), I was low down in the list. I
had a momentary feeling of remorse and then resolved to
make good at the degree examination.
For my degree, I took the honours course in philo¬
sophy—a long cherished desire. I threw myself heart and
soul into this work. For the first time in my College
career I found interest in studies. But what I gained
from this was quite different from what I had expected in
my boyhood. At school I had expected that a study of
philosophy would give me wisdom—knowledge about the
fundamental questions of life and the world. I had possibly
looked upon the study of philosophy as some sort of Yogic
exercise and I was bound to be disappointed. I actually
acquired not wisdom but intellectual discipline and a criti¬
cal frame of mind. Western philosophy begins with doubt
(some say it ends with doubt also). It regards everything
with a critical eye, takes nothing on trust, and teaches us
to argue logically and to detect fallacies. In other words,
it emancipates the mind from preconceived notions. My
first reaction to this was to question the truth of the
Vedanta on which I had taken my stand so long. I began
to write essays in defence of materialism, purely as an
intellectual exercise. I soon came into conflict with the

1 This experiment ended in failure for he married a French lady

and settled in England and never returned to India.
76 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

atmosphere of our group. It struck me for the first time

that they were dogmatic in their views, taking certain things
for granted, whereas a truly emancipated man should
accept nothing without evidence and argument.
I was proceeding merrily with my studies when a
sudden occurrence broke into my life. One morning in
January, 1916, when I was in the College library I heard
that a certain English professc had manhandled some
students belonging to our year. On enquiry it appeared
that some of our class-mates were walking along the corri¬
dor adjoining Mr O.’s lecture-room, when Mr O., feeling
annoyed at the disturbance, rushed out of the room and
violently pushed back a number of students who were in
the front row. We had a system of class-representatives
whom the Principal1 consulted on general matters and I
was the representative of my class. I immediately took
the matter up with the Principal and suggested among
other things that Mr O. should apologise to the students
whom he had insulted. The Principal said that since Mr
O. was a member of the Indian Educational Service, he
could not coerce him into doing that. He said further
that Mr 0. had not manhandled any students or used force
against them—but had simply Taken them by the arm’
which did not amount to an insult. We were naturally not
satisfied and the next day there was a general strike of all
the students. The Principal resorted to all sorts of coer¬
cive and diplomatic measures in order to break the strike,
but to no avail. Even the Moulvi Sahib’s efforts to wean
away the Muslim students ended in failure. Likewise the
appeals of popular professors like Sir P. C. Ray and Dr D.
N. Mullick fell flat. Among other disciplinary measures,
the Principal levied a general fine on all the absentee
students.
A successful strike in the Presidency College was a
source of great excitement throughout the city. The strike
contagion began to spread, and the authorities began to
get nervous. One of my professors who was fond of me

1 Mr. H. R. J. (deceased):
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (2) 77'

was afraid that I would land myself in trouble being one of

the strike-leaders. He took me aside and quietly asked
me if I realised what I was in for. I said that I was—
whereupon he said that he would say nothing more. How¬
ever, at the end of the second day’s strike pressure was
brought to bear on Mr 0. He sent for the students’ repre¬
sentatives and settled the dispute amicably with them, a
formula honourable to both parties having been devised in
the meantime.
The next day the lectures were held and the students
assembled in an atmosphere of ‘forgive and forget’. It was
naturally expected that after the settlement the Principal
would withdraw the penal measures he had adopted dur¬
ing the strike, but they were disappointed. He would not
budge an inch—the fine would have to be paid unless a
student pleaded poverty. All appeals made by the students
as well as by the professors proved to be unavailing. The
fine rankled in the minds of the students, but nothing
could be done.
About a month later a similar incident came like a
bolt from the blue. The report went out that Mr O. had
again manhandled a student—but this time it was a student
of the first year. What were the students to do? Cons¬
titutional protests like strikes would simply provoke dis¬
ciplinary measures and appeals to the Principal would be
futile. Some students therefore decided to take the law
into their own hands. The result was that Mr O. was
subjected to the argument of force and in the process was
beaten black and blue. From the newspaper office to Go¬
vernment House everywhere there was wild commotion.
It was alleged at the time that the students had attack¬
ed Mr O. from behind and thrown him down the stairs.
This allegation is entirely false. Mr O. did receive one
solitary stroke from behind, but that was of no account. His
assailants—those who felled him—were all in front of
him and on the same level with him. Being an eye witness
myself I can assert this without fear of contradiction. It
is necessary that this point should be made clear in fair¬
ness to the students.
78 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

Immediately after this the Government of Bengal

issued a communique ordering the College to be closed and
appointing a Committee of Enquiry to go into continued
disturbances in that institution. The temper of the Go¬
vernment was naturally very high and it was freely ru¬
moured that the Government would not hesitate to close
down the College for good. No doubt the Government
would have given the fullest support to the staff as against
the students. But as ill-luck would have it, the Principal
fell out with the Government over the official communique.
As the Government orders were issued over his head, he
felt that his amour proper had been hurt and his prestige
damaged. He called on the Honourable Member in charge
of Education and made a scene at his place. The next
day another official communique was issued saying that
the Principal1 was placed under suspension for ‘gross
personal insult’ to the Honourable Member.
But before power could slip out of his hands the
Principal acted. He sent for all those students who were
in his black list including myself. To me he said—or
rather snarled—in unforgettable words, ‘Bose, you are the
most troublesome man in the College. I suspend you’. I
said. ‘Thank you’, and went home. Shankaracharya’s Maya
lay dead as a door nail.
Soon after the Governing Body met and confirmed
the Principal’s order. I was expelled from the Presidency
College. I appealed to the University for permission to
study in some other college. That was refused. So I was
virtually rusticated from the University.
What was to be done? Some politicians comforted
me by saying that the Principal’s orders were ultra vires
since the Committee of Enquiry had taken over all his
powers. All eyes were turned to the Committee.

Subsequently, tbe Principal was reinstated, probably of ter be had

made amends and he retiied for good. Here I must say in fairness to
him that he was very popular with the students for protecting them
against police prosecution on several occasions. On the present occasion
he probably lost his head and could not decide whether he should side
enhrely with the authorities or with the students. If he-had done either,
The would have had at least one party to side with him.
 PRESIDENCY COLLEGE (2) 79

The Committee was presided over by Sir Asutosh

Mukherji, former Vice-Chancellor and Judge of the High
Court. Naturally we expected justice. I was one of those
who had to represent the students’ case. I was asked a
straight question—whether I considered the assault on Mr
O. to be justified. My reply was that though the assault
was not justified, the students had acted under great pro¬
vocation. And I then proceeded to narrate seriatim the
misdeeds of the Britishers in Presidency College during
the last few years. It was a heavy indictment, but wise¬
acres thought that by not unconditionally condemning the
assault on Mr 0. I had ruined my own case. I felt, how¬
ever, that I had done the right thing regardless of its
effect on me.
I lingered on in Calcutta hoping against hope that
something favourable would turn up. The Committee sub¬
mitted its report and there was hardly a word in favour
of the students. Mine was the only name singled out for
mention—so my fate was sealed.
Meanwhile the political atmosphere in Calcutta grew
from bad to worse. Wholesale arrests were made, and
among the latest victims were some expelled students of
the Presidency College. My elder brothers were alarmed
and held a hurried consultation. The consensus of opinion
was that to stay in Calcutta without any ostensible voca¬
tion was extremely risky. I should, therefore, be packed
off to a quiet corner like Cuttack where there was com¬
parative safety.
Lying on the bunk in the train at night I reviewed
the events of the last few months. My educational career
was at an end, and my future was dark and uncertain.
But I was not sorry—there was not a trace of regret in
my mind for what I had done. I had rather a feeling of
supreme satisfaction, of joy that I had done the right
thing, that I had stood up for our honour and self-respect
and had sacrificed myself for a noble cause. After all,
what is life without renunciation, I told myself. And I
went to sleep.
Little did I then realise the inner significance of the
80 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

tragic events of 1916. My Principal had expelled me, but

he had made my future career. I had established a pre¬
cedent for myself from which I could not easily depart
in future. I had stood up with courage and composure in
a crisis and fulfilled my duty. I had developed self-con¬
fidence as well as initiative, which was to stand me in
good stead in future. I had a foretaste of leadership—
though in a very restricted sphere—and of the martyrdom
that it involves. In short, I had acquired character and
could face the future with equanimity.
 CHAPTER VIII

MY STUDIES RESUMED

It was the end of March, 1916, when I came down to

Cuttack as a rusticated student. Fortunately, no stigma
attached to that appellation. By students everywhere I
was regarded with sympathy tinged with respect, because
I had stood up for their cause. There was no change
whatsoever in the attitude of my parents and, strange to
say, my father never put one question to me about the
events in College or my part therein. My elder brothers
in Calcutta had sympathised with me in my tribulations
believing that I had done the right thing in the circum¬
stances that I had to face. My parents’ attitude, as far as
I could judge from their behaviour in spite of their reserve,
seemed to be that I had to suffer for being the spokes¬
man of the students. It was a great relief to know that
I had the sympathy of those with whom I had to spend
my days and nights and that they did not think ill of me
because I had been sent down.
Thus my relations with my family did not suffer a
set-back, but rather improved. The same could not be
said of the group. Throughout the exciting events of
January and February I had not taken counsel with them
and had acted entirely on my own initiative. Later on
I gathered that they did not quite approve of what I had
done and would have liked to see me avoid a direct con¬
flict with the powers that be. When I decided to leave
Calcutta I did not so much as inform them, though pre¬
viously I had spent days and nights in their company,
joining in their plans for the future. By this time the
group had become a well-knit organisation. Most of the
important members in Calcutta belonging to different insti¬
tutions used to live in one boarding-house, where every
afternoon those living at home or in other hostels would
assemble for discussion and exchange of ideas. The group
82 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

was bringing out for private circulation a manuscript

journal as its organ. Regular lessons used to be given
to educate the members in different subjects, and since
emphasis was laid on moral and religious training it was
but natural that ‘Gita’ classes should form a regular
feature of the afternoon gatherings.
It will be easily realised that after the recent happen¬
ings, mentally I was not the same man as when I left
home and comfort two years ago to find a guru for my¬
self. The change came somewhat suddenly—like a storm
—and turned everything upside down. But long before
the storm broke, a silent 'change had been going on with¬
in me of which I was unconscious at the time. Firstly, I
was being pulled in the direction of social service. Se¬
condly, in spite of ail my eccentricities, I was acquiring
moral stamina. Consequently, when I was faced with a
sudden crisis which put to the test my sense of social
duty, I was not found wanting. Without a tremor I took
my stand and gladly faced the consequences. Shyness
and diffidence vanished into thin air.
What was I to do now? I could not continue my
studies because I did not know where and when I would
have to begin again. The expulsion being for an indefinite
period amounted to a sentence for life, and there was no
certainty that the University authorities would relent after
a time and permit me to resume my studies. I sounded
my parents as to whether they would send me abroad to
study, but my father set his face against the idea. He
was definitely of opinion that I should have the blot on
my escutcheon removed before I could think of going
abroad. That meant taking my degree from the Calcutta
University first.
I had therefore to hold my soul in patience till the
University authorities would think of reconsidering their
orders, and meanwhile I had to fill my time somehow.
Putting my books aside, I took to social service with
passionate zeal. In those days epidemics like cholera and
smallpox were of frequent occurrence in Orissa. Most
people were too poor to afford a doctor and, even when
 MY STUDIES RESUMED 83

they could do so, there was the further difficulty of find¬

ing nurses. It would sometimes happen that if cholera
broke out in a hostel or boarding-house, the inmates would
clear off bag and baggage, leaving the victims to their
fate. There is no reason to be surprised at this, because
prior to the introduction of saline injection treatment
following the researches of Leonard Rogers, cholera was
a most fatal disease, and in addition highly contagious.
Fortunately, there was a group among the students, con¬
sisting partly of my old friends, who would go out to differ¬
ent parts of the city and do voluntary nursing. I readily
joined them. We concentrated on such fell diseases as
cholera and smallpox, but our services were available for
other diseases as well. We also did duty in the cholera
ward of the local Civil Hospital, for there were no trained
nurses there and nursing was left in the hands of ignorant
and dirty sweepers. In spite of the dire lack of adequate
nursing, the cholera mortality in the hospital was much
lower than in the village we had visited two years ago
with a box of homoeopathic medicine and under the leader¬
ship of a halfdoctor. The fact is that saline injections
worked like magic and, when they were administered at
an early state of the disease, there was eighty per cent
chance of recovery.
Nursing cholera patients we enjoyed greatly, espe¬
cially when we found that several patients were thereby
saved from the jaws of death. But in the matter of taking
precautions, I was criminally negligent. I never cared to
disinfect my clothes when I returned home and, of course,
I did not volunteer information to anybody as to where
I had been. I wonder that during all the months that I
had been doing nursing I did not carry infection to other
people or get infected myself.
With cholera patients I never had a feeling of repul¬
sion even when I had to handle soiled clothes, but I could
not say the same of smallpox in an advanced stage of
suppuration. It required all my strength of mind to force
me to attend such a patient. However, as a schooling,
this sort uf voluntary work had its value and I did not
84 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

shirk it.
Nursing brought in other allied problems. What
about those who died in spite of doctoring and nursing?
There was no association for taking charge of the dead
bodies and cremating them in the proper manner. In the case
of unclaimed bodies, the municipal sweepers would come
and dispose of them as they liked. But who would relish
the idea of having his body labelled as unclaimed after
death? The nurses, therefore, were often called upon to
function as undertakers. According to the Indian custom
we would have to carry the dead body ourselves to the
cremation ground and perform the funeral rites. The
problem was comparatively simple when the dead person
had well-to-do relatives and only needed volunteers. But
there were cases when there was no money available and
we had to send the hat round for meeting the expenses
of cremation. Apart from cases which volunteers had
nursed, there were other cases where outside physical help
was needed to perform the funeral rites and we had to
minister in such cases as well.
Interesting and useful though nursing was, it could
not fill all my time. Moreover, nursing was but an expe
dient; it was not a permanent remedy for any of our
national ills. In our group we had always criticised the
Ramakrishna Mission for concentrating on hospitals and
flood and famine relief and neglecting nation-building
work of a permanent nature, and I had no desire to repeat
their mistake. Consequently, I tried my hand at youth or¬
ganisation. I got together a large number of youths and
we started an organisation with different departments for
their physical, intellectual, and moral advancement. This
work went on pretty well while I was there. About this
time I was brought face to face with the problem of un-
touchability. In a students’ hostel which was one of our
favourite haunts there was a Santal student called Majhi.
The Santals are generally looked upon as an inferior caste,
but the students who were broadminded did not mind that,
and Majhi was welcomed as a boarder. Things went on
all right for a time. One day a personal servant of one
 MY STUDIES RESUMED 85

of the boarders somehow came to know that Majhi was

a Santal and he tried to stir up trouble by calling upon
the other servants to refuse to work in the hostel if Majhi
did not leave. Fortunately nobody was in a mood to listen
to his demand and the trouble was nipped in the bud.
What struck me at the time was that the really higher
castes, who could have objected, never so much as thought
of the case of the Santal student—whereas the servant
who himself belonged to a comparatively low caste
appeared highly indignant. Soon after this incident Majhi
fell ill with typhoid and we made it a point to nurse him
with extra care and consideration. In this, to my surprise
and joy, my mother joined me.
To fill the gaps in my time I went out on excursions
with friends to different places of religious or historical
interest. Life in the open with plenty of walking was good
for the health and it gave opportunities for that intimate
communion with other souls which is never possible with¬
in the four walls of a room. Moreover, it helped me to
keep away from home where I had nothing particular to
do, because individualistic Yoga had no longer any attrac¬
tion for me and the study of text-books did not interest
me. I now tried an experiment in using our religious
festivals for developing our group life. From the earliest
times the important religious ceremonies have been festi¬
vals in which the whole of society participates. Take the
Durga Poojah in a village in Bengal. Though the religious
part of the Poojah lasts only five days, work in connection
with it lasts several weeks. During this period practically
every caste or profession in the village is needed for some
work or other in connection with the Poojah. Thus,
though the Poojah may be performed in one home, the
whole village participates in the festivity and also profits
financially from it. In my infancy in our village home a
drama used to be staged at the end of the Poojah which
the whole village would enjoy. During the last fifty years,
owing to the gradual impoverishment of the country and
migration from the villages, these religious festivals have
been considerably reduced and in some cases have ceased
86 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

altogether. This has affected the circulation of money

within the village economy and on the social side has made
life dull and drab.
There is another form of religious festivity in which
the community participates even more directly. In such
cases the Poojah is performed not in a home but in some
public hall and the expenses are borne not by one family;
but by the community. These festivals, called Baroari Poojah,1
have also been gradually going out of existence. So in
1917 we decided to organise such a Poojah. On the social
side it was a great success and it was therefore repeated
in the following years.
During this period, on the mental side I remember to
have made a distinct progress in one respect, that of the
practice of self-analysis.2 This is a practice which I have
regularly indulged in ever since and have benefited greatly
thereby. It consists of throwing a powerful searchlight
on your own mind with a view to knowing yourself better.
Usually before going to sleep or in the early morning I
would spend time some over this. This analysis would be of
two kinds—-analysis of myself as I was at that time and
analysis of my whole life. From the former I would get
to know more about my hidden desires and impulses,
ideals and aspirations. From the latter I would begin to
comprehend my life better, to view it from the evolution¬
ary standpoint, to understand how in the past I had been
struggling to fulfil myself, to realise my errors of the past
and thereby draw conclusions for the future.
I had not practised self-analysis long before I made
two discoveries, both important for myself. Firstly, I knew
very little about my own mind till then, that there were
ignoble impulses within me which masqueraded under a
more presentable exterior. Secondly, the moment I put
my finger on something ignoble or unworthy within me,
I half-conquered it. Weaknesses of the mind, unlike

1 During the last ten years Baroari Poojah has once again become
extremely popular in Calcutta. Physical display, exhibitions, etc. are
organised in connection with these Poojahs.
21 kit upon this method quite empirically in my effort to master my
own mind. At that time I did not know anything about psycho-analysis.
 MY STUDIES RESUMED 87

diseases of the body, flourished only when they were not

detected. When they were found out, they had a tendency
to take to their heels.1
One of the immediate uses I made of self-analysis was
in ridding myself of certain disturbing dreams. I had
fought against such dreams in my earlier life with some
measure of success, but as I gradually improved my
method of analysis, I got even better results. The earliest
dreams of an unpleasant character were those of snakes,
wild animals, etc. In order to rid myself of snake-dreams,
I would sit down at night before going to sleep and picture
myself in a closed room full of poisonous snakes and repeat
to myself—‘I am not afraid of being bitten; I am not afraid
of death’. While thinking hard in this way I would doze
off to sleep. After I practised in this way for a few days
I noticed a change. At first the snakes appeared in my
dreams but without frightening me. Then they dropped
off altogether. Dreams of other wild animals were
similarly dealt with. Since then I have had no trouble
at all.
About the time I was expelled from College I began
to have dreams of house-searches and arrests. Un¬
doubtedly they were a reflection of my subconscious
thoughts and hidden anxieties. But a few days’ exercise
cured me altogether. I had only to picture to myself house-
searches and arrests going on without disturbing me and
to repeat to myself that I was not upset in any way.
Another class of dreams which occasionally disturbed me,
though not to the same extent, was about examinations
for which I was not prepared or in which I fared badly.
To tackle such dreams I had to repeat to myself that I
was fully prepared for the examination and was sure of
doing well. I know of people who are troubled by such
dreams till late in life, and sometimes get into an awful
fright in their dreams. For such people a more prolonged
exercise may be necessary, but relief is sure to come if

1 Later on when I took up the study of psychology I learnt that a

mental conflict was cured immediately the sufferer understood its origin
or cause through psycho-analysis.
88 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

they persist. If a particular class of dreams appears to

be persistent, a closer analysis should be made of them
with a view to discovering their composition.
The dreams most difficult to get rid of are those about
sex. This is because sex is one of the most powerful
instincts in man and because there is a. periodicity in
sex-urge which occasions such dreams at certain intervals.
Nevertheless, it is possible to obtain at least partial relief.
That, at any rate, has been my experience. The method
would be to picture before the mind the particular form
that excites one in his dreams and to repeat to himself
that it does not excite him any longer—that he has con¬
quered lust. For instance, if it is the case of a man being
excited by a woman, the best course would be for him
to picture that form before his mind as the form of his
mother or sister. One is likely to get discouraged in his
fight with sex-dreams unless he remembers that there is
a periodicity in sex-urge which does not apply to other
instincts and that the sex-instinct can be conquered or
sublimated only gradually.
To continue our narrative, I returned to Calcutta after
a year’s absence in order to try my luck with the Univer¬
sity authorities once again. It was a difficult job, but the
key to the situation was with Sir Asutosh Mukherji, the
virtual dictator of the University. If he willed it, the
penal order could be withdrawn. While waiting for the
matter to come up, I grew restless and looked out for a
suitable outlet for my energy. Just then the campaign
for recruitment to the 49th Bengalees was going on. I
attended a recruiting meeting at the University Institute
and felt greatly interested. The next day I quietly went
to the office in Beadon Street where recruits were medi¬
cally examined and offered myself for recruitment. Army
medical examinations are always nasty and they show no
consideration for any sense of shame. I went through it
without flinching. I was sure that I would pass all the
other tests, but I was nervous about my eyesight which
was defective. I implored the I.M.S. officer, who happened
to be an Indian, to pass me as fit, but he regretted that
 •

■ '
 MY STUDIES RESUMED 89

for an eye examination I would have to go to another

officer. There is a saying in Bengali—‘it gets dark just
where there is a fear of a tiger appearing’—and so it
happened in this case. This officer, one Major Cook I
think, happened to be very particular about eye-sight and,
though I had passed every other test, he disqualified me.
Heartbroken I returned home.
I was informed that the University authorities would
probably be amenable, but that I would have to find a
College where I could be admitted if the University had
no objection. The Bangabasi College offered to take me in,
but there was no provision there for the honours course in
philosophy. So I decided to approach the Scottish Church
College. One fine morning without any introduction what¬
soever I went straight to the Principal of that College,
Dr. Urquhart, and told him that I was an expelled student,
but that the University was going to lift the ban, and I
wanted to study for the honours course in philosophy in
his College. He was evidently favourably impressed, for
he agreed to admit me, provided the Principal of the Pre¬
sidency College did not stand in the way. I would have
to get a note from him to the effect that he had no ob¬
jection to my admission into the Scottish Church College.
That was not an easy task for me. My second brother,
Sjt. Sarat Chandra Bose, who was my guardian in Calcutta,
however, offered to do this for me and he interviewed the
new Principal.1 Mr. W., he told me, was quite tractable
on this point but he wanted me to call on him once. I
went and was put through a searching cross examination
about the events of the previous year. At the end he
wound up by saying he was concerned more with the
future than the past and would not object to my going to
some other institution. That was all that I wanted. I had
no desire to go back to the Presidency College.
Once admitted, I took to my studies with zeal and
devotion. I had lost two years and when I joined the third
year class again in July, 1917, my class-mates had taken

JMr w.
90 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

their B.A. and were studying for their M.A. degree. At

college I led a quiet life. There was no possibility of any
friction with the authorities with such a tactful and con¬
siderate man as Dr Urquhart as Principal. He was him¬
self a philosophy man and lectured on that subject, be¬
sides giving Bible lessons. His Bible lessons were very
interesting and, for the first time, the Bible did not bore
me. It was such a welcome change from the Bible lessons
in the P. E. School. Life was humdrum in College except
for the fact that I took part in the activities of the College
Societies, especially the Philosophical Society. But I soon
found something to add some spice to my daily life.
The Government had agreed to start a University
unit in the India Defence Force—India’s Territorial Army
—and recruiting was going on for this unit, a double com¬
pany. The physical tests would not be so stiff as in the
regular army tests, especially in the matter of vision. So
there was a chance of my getting in. This experiment
was being sponsored on the Indian side by the late Dr. Suresh
Chandra Sarvadhikari,1 the famous Calcutta surgeon,
whose zeal for providing military training for Bengalees
was unbounded. I was not disappointed this time. Our
training began at the Calcutta Maidan in mufti and the
officers and instructors were provided by the Lincolns
Regiment in Fort William. It was a motley crowd that
assembled there the first day to answer the roll-call. Some
in dhoti (Bengalee style), some in shorts (semi-military
style), some in trousers (civilian style), some bareheaded,

1 Dr. Sarvadhikari, Dr. S. K. Mullick (now dead) and some others

were pioneers of the movement to persuade the Government to admit
Bengalees into the Army. During the war, when the Government was
hard up in the matter of man-power, they were successful. Bengalees
were first allowed to join the Ambulance Corps and were sent to Meso¬
potamia. As they had a very good record there, they were admitted
into the regular army and the 49th Bengalees was then started. Bengalees
were also admitted into the Indian Territorial Force and the University
Infantry was the university section of that force. The University In¬
fantry is now a permanent corps but the Bengalee units in the regular
army were disbanded at the end of the war. In 1916 I met a demobilised
officer of the Bengal Ambulance Corps who had been present at the
siege of Kut-el-Amara and thereafter was a prisoner of war in Turkey.
I was greatly excited by his tales of adventure and wanted to ioin the
army.
 MY STUDIES RESUMED 91

some in turbans, some with hats, and so on. It did not

look as if soldiers could be made out of them. But the
entire aspect changed when two months later we shifted
to the vicinity of the Fort, got into military uniform,
pitched our tents, and began drilling with our rifles. We
had camp life for four months and enjoyed it thoroughly.
Part of it was spent at Belghurriah about twelve miles
from Calcutta where we had our musketry practice at the
rifle range. What a change it was from sitting at the
feet of anchorites to obtain knowledge about God, to stand¬
ing with a rifle on my shoulder taking orders from a
British army officer !
We did not see any active service nor did we have
any real adventure. Nevertheless we were enthusiastic
over our camp-life. There is no doubt that it engendered
real esprit de corps, though we had never experienced
anything like military life before. Besides our parade we
had recreation of all sorts—official and unofficial—and
sports as well. Towards the end of our training we had
mock-fights in the dark which were interesting and excit¬
ing to a degree. The company had its comic figures and
many were the jokes we would have at their expense. At
an early stage they were put in a separate squad, called
the ‘Awkward Squad’. But as they improved, they were
drafted into the regular platoons. Jack Johnson,1 how¬
ever, refused to change and till the last he stood out as a
unique personality and had to be tolerated even by the
Officer Commanding.
Our O. C., Captain Gray, was a character. He was a
ranker, which meant much, considering the conservative;
traditions of the British Army. It would be difficult to
find a better instructor than he. A rough Scotsman with
a gruff voice, on the parade-ground he always wore a
scowl on his face. But he had a heart of gold. He always
meant well and his men knew it and therefore liked him,,
despite his brusque manners. For Captain Gray we will
do anything—that is how we felt at the time. When he

1 That was his nickname.

Q:2
yJ -j
AN INDIAN PILGRIM

joined our Company, the staff officers in Fort William were

of opinion that we would be utter failures as soldiers.
Captain Gray showed that their estimate was wrong. The
fact is that, being all educated men, we picked up very
soon. What ordinary soldiers would take months to learn
we would master in so many weeks. After three weeks’
musketry training there was a shooting competition be¬
tween our men and our instructors, and the latter were
beaten hollow. Our instructors refused to believe at first
that our men had never handled rifles before. I remember
asking our platoon-instructor one day to tell me frankly
what he thought of us as soldiers. He said that on parade
we were smart but that our fighting stamina could be
tested only during active service. Our 0. C. was satisfied
with our turn-out, at least he said so when we broke up,
and he felt proud when the military secretary to the Go¬
vernor complimented us on our parade the day we fur¬
nished the guard-of-honour to His Excellency at the Cal¬
cutta University Convocation. His satisfaction was even
greater when we did well at the Proclamation Parade on
New Year’s Day.
I wonder how much I must have changed from those
days when I could find pleasure in soldiering. Not only
was there no sign of maladaptation to my new evironment
but I found a positive pleasure in it. This training gave
me something* which I needed or which I lacked. The
feeling of strength and of self-confidence grew still fur¬
ther. As soldiers we had certain rights which as Indians
we did not possess. To us as Indians, Fort William was
out of bounds, but as soldiers we had right of entry there,
and as a matter of fact the first day we marched
into Fort William to bring our rifles, we experienced a
queer feeling of satisfaction, as if we were taking posse¬
ssion of something to which we had an inherent right but
of which we had been unjustly deprived. The route-
marches in the city and elsewhere we enjoyed, probably
because it gave us a sense of importance. We could snap
our fingers at the police and other agents of the Govern¬
ment by whom we were in the habit of being harassed or
 MY STUDIES RESUMED 93

terrorised.
The third year in College was given up to soldiering
and the excitement connected therewith. Only in my
fourth year 1 did I commence my studies in right earnest.
At the B. A. Examination in 1919 I did well, but not up
to my expectations. I got first-class honours in philosophy
but was placed second in order of merit. For my M.A.
course I did not want to continue philosophy. As I have
remarked before, I was to some extent disillusioned about
philosophy. While it developed the critical faculty, pro¬
voked scepticism, and fostered intellectual discipline, it
did not solve any of the fundamental problems for me.
My problems could be solved only by myself. Besides this
consideration there was another factor at work. I myself
had changed considerably during the last three years. I
decided therefore to study experimental psychology for my
M.A. examination. It was a comparatively new science I
found absorbing, but I was not destined to continue it for
more than a few months.
One evening, when my father was in Calcutta, he
suddenly sent for me. I found him closeted with my se¬
cond brother, Sarat. He asked me if I would like to go
to England to study for the Indian Civil Service. If I
agreed I should start as soon as possible. I was given
twenty-four hours to make up my mind.
It was an utter surprise to me. I took counsel with
myself and, within a few hours, made up my mind to go.
All my plans about researches in psychology were put
aside. How often, I wondered, were my carefully laid
plans going to be shattered by the superior force of cir¬
cumstances. I was not so sorry to part company with
psychology, but what about joining the Indian Civil Service
and accepting a job under the British Government? I had
not thought of that even in my dreams. I persuaded my¬
self, however, that I could never pass the I.C.S. examina-

1 In the Indian Universities after the 1st and 2nd year comes the
Intermediate Examination. After the 3rd and 4th year comes the B.A.
or B.Sc. Examination and after the 5th and 6th year comes the M.A. or
M.Sc. Examination.
94 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

lion at such short notice, for by the time I reached England

and settled down to study, barely eight months would be
left and I had but one chance, in view of my age. If,
however, I managed to get through, there would be plenty
of time to consider what I should do.
I had to leave at a week’s notice. A berth was some¬
how secured in a boat going all the way by sea. But the
difficulty was about my passport. There one was left to
the tender mercies of the C.I.D., especially in a province
like Bengal. And from the police point of view, my ante¬
cedents were certainly not irreproachable. Through the
good offices of a high police official who was a distant
relative of mine, I was introduced to police headquarters
and within six days my passport was forthcoming. A
marvel indeed !
Once again I had done things off my own bat. When
I consulted the group regarding my proposed journey to
England, they threw cold water on the project. One of
the most promising members who had been to England
had married and settled down there and did not think of
returning. It was dangerous to try another experiment.
But I was adamant. What did it matter if one member had
gone astray? It did not follow that others would do the
same, so I argued. My relations with the group had been
growing increasingly lukewarm for some time past, and I
had joined the University infantry without consulting them.
But this was the limit. Though we did not say so, we
felt that we had come to the parting of the ways, since
I was determined to strike out a line for myself.
Then I visited the Provincial Adviser for studies in
England, himself a product of Cambridge and a Professor
of the Presidency College. He knew me by sight and
naturally did not have a high opinion of an expelled
student. As soon as he heard that I intended to sit for the
I.C.S. examination the next year, he summoned up all his
powers of dissuasion. I had no chance whatsoever against
the ‘tip-toppers’ from Oxford and Cambridge; why was I go¬
ing to throw away ten thousand rupees? That was the burden
of his homily. Realising the force of his argument and
 MY STUDIES RESUMED 95

unable to find an answer to his question, I simply said,

“My father wants me to throw away the ten thousand
rupees”. Then seeing that he would do nothing to help
me secure admission to Cambridge, I left him.
Relying entirely on my own resources and determined
to try my luck in England, I set sail on the 15th September,
1919.
 CHAPTER IX

AT CAMBRIDGE

When I left India the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre at Amrit¬

sar had already taken place. But hardly any news of it
had travelled outside the Punjab. Punjab was under mar¬
tial law and there was a strict censorship on all news sent
out from that province. As a consequence, we had heard
only vague rumours of some terrible happenings at Lahore
and Amritsar. One of my brothers who was then working
at Simla brought us some news—or rather rumours—
about the Punjab happenings and about the Anglo-Afghan
war in which the Afghans had got the better of the British.
But on the whole the public were ignorant of what had
been going on in the north-west, and I sailed for Europe
in a complacent mood.
On the boat we found quite a number of Indian passen¬
gers, mostly students. Accordingly we considered it ad¬
visable to take a separate table where we would feel more
at home. Our table was presided over by an elderly and
estimable lady, the wife of a deceased Indian Civil Ser¬
vant. The majority of the passengers were Britishers of
the sun-burnt snobbish type. Association with them was
hardly possible—so we Indians kept mostly to ourselves.
Occasionally there would be friction between an Indian
passenger and a Britisher over some thing or other, and
though nothing very serious took place by the time we
reached England, we all had a feeling of resentment at the
supercilious attitude of the Britisher towards Indians. One
interesting discovery I made during the voyage—Anglo-
Indians develop a love for India and the Indian people
when they are out of India. In the boat there were a few
Anglo-Indian passengers. The nearer we came to Europe,
the more home-sick—I mean ‘India-sick’—they became.
In England Anglo-Indians cannot pass themselves off as
Englishmen. They have, moreover, no home there, no
 AT CAMBRIDGE 97

associations, no contacts. It is, therefore, inevitable that

the farther they go from India, the closer they should feel
drawn towards her.
I do not think that we could have chosen a slower
boat than the City of Calcutta. She was scheduled to reach
Tilbury in 30 days but actually took a week more. That
was because she was held up at Suez for want of coal,
owing to the coal-strike in England. Our only consolation
was that we called at a number of ports on our way. To
make life on board for five weeks somewhat bearable, we
had to fall back on that spice of life, humour. One fellow-
passenger had been ordered by his wife not to touch beef.
By another passenger he was tricked into taking ‘copta
curry’ of beef—which he thoroughly enjoyed—under the
impression that it was mutton ‘copta curry’. Great was
his remorse when he discovered his mistake after twelve
hours. Another passenger had orders from his fiancee to
write a letter every day. He spent his time reciting love-
poems and talking about her. Whether we liked it or not,
we had to listen. He was beside himself with joy when
one day I remarked in reply to his importunity that his
fiancee had Grecian features.
Even the longest day has its end; so we did reach
Tilbury after all. It was wet and cloudy—typical London
weather. But there was plenty of excitement to make us
oblivious of outside nature. When I first went down into
a tube-station, I enjoyed the experience, for it was some¬
thing oew.
The next morning I began exploring. I called at the
office of the Adviser to Indian students at Cromwell Road.
He was very nice to me, gave me plenty of advice, but
added that so far as admission to Cambridge was con¬
cerned, there was nothing doing. There by chance I met
some Indian students from Cambridge. One of them
strongly advised me to proceed straight to Cambridge and
try my luck there, instead of wasting my time at Cromwell
Road. I agreed, and the next day I was at Cambridge.
Some students from Orissa, whom I had known slightly
98 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

before, lent me a helping hand. One 1 of them who be¬

longed to Fitzwilliam Hall took me to Mr Reddaway, the
Censor, and introduced me to him. Mr Reddaway was
exceedingly kind and sympathetic, gave me a patient hear¬
ing, and at the end wound up by saying that he would
admit me straightaway. The problem of admission settled,
the next question was about the current term which had
begun two weeks ago. If I lost that term then I would
probably have to spend nearly a year more in order to
qualify for a degree. Otherwise, I would take my degree
by June, 1921. On this point also Mr Reddaway was ac¬
commodating beyond my expectation. He made use of the
coal-strike and of my military service in order to persuade
the University authorities to stretch a point in my favour.
He succeeded, and the result was that I did not lose that
term. Without Mr Reddaway I do not know what I would
have done in England.
I reached London about the 25th October and it was
the first week of November before I could settle down to
work at Cambridge. I had an unusually large number of
lectures to attend—part of them for the Mental and Moral
Sciences Tripos and the rest for the Civil Service Exami¬
nation. Outside my lecture hours I had to study as hard
as I could. There was no question of any enjoyment for
me, besides what I could get from hard work. I was to
appear under the old Civil Service Regulations which ne¬
cessitated my taking up eight or nine different subjects,
some of which I had to study for the first time. My sub¬
jects were as follows: Engligh Composition, Sanskrit, Philo¬
sophy, English Law, Political Science, Modern European
History, English History, Economics, Geography. Over
and above studying these subjects, I had to do surveying
and map-making (Cartography) for the Geography paper
and to learn something of French in connection with the
Modern History paper.
The work for the Mental and Moral Sciences Tripos
was more interesting but I could not devote much time to

1 S. M. D.
 AT CAMBRIDGE 99

it, beyond attending the lectures. Among my lecturers were

Prof. Sorley (Ethics), Prof. Myers (Psychology), and Prof.
McTaggart (Metaphysics). During the first three terms
I devoted practically my whole time to preparing for the
Civil Service Examination. In the way of recreation, I
attended the meetings of the Indian Majlis and the Union
Society.
Cambridge after the war was conservative. Oxford
was much the same but was beginning to go liberal. One
could judge of the prevailing atmosphere from the fact
that pacifists, socialists, conscientious objectors, and the
like could not easily address a public meeting at Cam¬
bridge. The undergraduates would generally come and
break up the meetings and ‘rag’ the lecturer by throwing
bags of flour at him or giving him a ducking in the river.
'Ragging’ was of course a legitimate recreation for the
undergraduates there and I heartily approved of it. But
breaking up meetings simply because the speaker repre¬
sented a different ideology did not appeal to me.
What greatly impressed an outsider like myself was
the measure of freedom allowed to the students, and the
general esteem in which they were held by all and sundry.
This undoubtedly had a very wholesome effect on their
character. What a change, I thought, from a police-ridden
city like Calcutta where every student was looked upon
as a potential revolutionary and suspect! And living in
the atmosphere of Cambridge, it was difficult to imagine
the incidents in the Calcutta Presidency College—profes¬
sors maltreating students—for there it was the professors
who ran the risk of being maltreated by the under¬
graduates. In fact, unpopular dons were occasionally
‘ragged’ by the undergrads and their rooms raided by the
latter though in a friendly way, for later on they were
compensated for any damage done. Even when a ragging
was going on in the streets of Cambridge, causing damage
to public property, the police would behave with remark¬
able restraint, a thing quite impossible in India.
Apart from the measure of freedom enjoyed by the
students, which would naturally appeal more to me than
100 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

to British students born and brought up in a free atmos¬

phere, the consideration and esteem with which they were
treated everywhere was very striking. Even a fresher
coming up for the first time would at once get the im¬
pression that a high standard of character and behaviour
was expected of him, and he would be bound to react
favourably. This consideration shown towards the under¬
graduates was not confined to Cambridge but existed to
some extent all over the country. In the trains when one
was questioned and replied that he was at Cambridge (or
Oxford), the attitude of the questioner would change at
once. He would become friendly—or shall I say more
respectful? This was my personal experience. If there is
an element of snobbishness in those who go up to Cam¬
bridge or Oxford, I certainly do not hold a brief for it.
But, having been brought up in a police-ridden atmosphere,
it is my firm conviction that there is a lot to be said in
favour of allowing students and young men more freedom
and treating them with consideration as if they were res¬
ponsible citizens.
I remember an incident when I was a College student
in Calcutta. I was then awfully fond of buying new books.
If I set my heart on a book in a shop-window, I would
not rest till I possessed it. I would feel so restless till I
got the book that I had to buy it before I returned home.
One day I went to one of the biggest shops in College
Street and asked for a book on philosophy, on which I was
very keen at the time. The price was announced and I
found that I was short by a few rupees. I requested the
manager to let me have the book and promised to bring
the balance the next day. He replied that that was not
possible, I would have to pay the full price down first. I
was not only disappointed at failing to get the book but
was extremely hurt because I was distrusted in this way.1
It was therefore such a relief to find that you could walk
into any shop in Cambridge and order anything you liked
without having to bother about payment on the spot.
There is another thing which drew my admiration—
1 I know that things have changed now.
 AT CAMBRIDGE 101

the debates at the Union Society’s meetings. The whole

atmosphere was so exhilarating. There was perfect free¬
dom to talk what you liked or attack whomsoever you
wished. Prominent members of Parliament and sometimes
members of the Cabinet took part in these debates in a
spirit of perfect equality and would, of course, come in
for slashing criticism not unmixed with invective at times.
Once Horatio Bottomley, M. P. was taking part in a debate.
He was warned by an oppositionist speaker—There are
more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than your John
Bull dreams of.’
Sparkling bits of humour would enliven the proceed¬
ings. During the course of a debate on Ireland a pro-
Irish speaker, while exposing the real character of the
Government, referred to the ‘forces of law and order on
one side and of Bonar Law and disorder on the other.’
Among the guests at these debates, besides well-known
parliamentary figures, there were also those who were on
the threshold of a public career. I remember, for instance,
that Dr Hugh Dalton was often present at these debates.
He was a prospective M. P. nursing some constituency at
the time. Sir Oswald Mosely, then a Left Wing Liberal
(or Labourite) participated in a debate on India. He
vehemently denounced 1 the policy of Dyer and O’dwyer
and raised a storm in British circles by his remark that
the events in Amritsar in 1919 were the expression of
racial hatred. Sir John Simon and Mr. Clynes once came
to plead the miners’ cause before the Cambridge public
at Guildhall. The undergrads turned up with the object
of giving them a hot time. Sir John Simon had to run
the gauntlet, but when Mr Clynes got up (I think he had
been a miner himself) he spoke with such sincerity and
passion that those who had come to scoff remained to
pray.
During the six terms that I was in Cambridge the re¬
lations between British and Indian students were on the
whole quite cordial, but in few cases did they ripen into

1 What a change now.

102 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

real friendship. I say this not from my personal experi¬

ence alone but from general observation as well. Many
factors were responsible for this. The war undoubtedly
had its effect. One could detect in the average Britisher
a feeling of superiority beneath a veneer of bon-homie
which was not agreeable to others. On our side, after the
post-war events in India and particularly the tragedy at
Amritsar, we could not but be sensitive (perhaps ultra¬
sensitive) with regard to our self-respect and national
honour. It also pained us to find that among middle-class
Englishmen there was a great deal of sympathy for General
Dyer. It is probable that speaking generally the basis for
a friendship between Britishers and Indians did not exist.
We were politically more conscious and more sensitive
than we had been before. Consequently friendship with
an Indian presupposed sympathy, or at least toleration, for
his political ideas. That was not always easy to find.
Among the political parties only Labour expressed sym¬
pathy for Indian aspirations. It followed that there was
greater possibility of friendship with Labourites or people
having pro-Labour views and sentiments.
The above remarks are of a general nature, and must
provide for exceptions. I myself made friends with people,
students and non-students, holding conservative views re¬
garding British politics, which continues till the present
day in spite of all that I have been through. That was
possible because they had sufficient toleration for my ideas.
The intelligentsia of Great Britain has been passing
through something like an intellectual revolution during
the last decade, and specially during the last five years,
and I daresay that that is reflected in the atmosphere of
Cambridge, Oxford, London, and other places. The ex¬
perience of today may not therefore tally with that of
1919 and 1920.
That I have not misjudged British, mentality as I found
it soon after the war can be demonstrated from one or
two incidents. It is generally claimed that the average
Briton has a sense of fairplay, a sportsmanlike spirit.
During my time at Cambridge we Indians wanted more
 AT CAMBRIDGE 103

proof of it. The tennis champion for the year was an

Indian student, Sunder Dass, who naturally got the blue.
We expected that he would be called upon to captain the
team in the inter-varsity matches. But in order to frus¬
trate that, an old blue who had already gone down was
sent for and made to stay on for another year. On paper
it was all right. The senior blue had the priority in the
matter of captaining the team, but everybody knew what
had passed behind the scenes and there was silent resent¬
ment in the ranks of the Indian students.
Another instance. One day we saw a notice inviting
applications from undergraduates for enlistment in the
University Officers’ Training Corps. Some of us went up
and applied. We were told that the question would have
to be referred to the higher authorities. After some time
came the reply that the India Office objected to our enlist¬
ing in the 0. T. C. The matter was brought before the
Indian Majlis and it was decided to take the matter up with
the Secretary of State for India, and Mr K. L. Gauba and I
were authorised to interview him if necessary. The then
Secretary, Mr E. S. Montague, referred us to the Under¬
secretary of State for India, the Earl of Lytton, who re¬
ceived us cordially and gave us a patient hearing. He
assured us that the India Office had no objection at all
and that the opposition came from the War Office. The
War Office was informed that the enlistment of Indians in
the O. T. C. would be resented by British students. Fur¬
ther, the War Office was afraid that since members of the
0. T. C., when fully qualifed, were entitled to commissions
in the British Army, a difficult situation would arise if
Indian students after qualifying in the 0. T. C. demanded
commissions in the British Army. Lord Lytton added that
personally he thought it was inevitable that in future
Indian officers should be in charge of mixed regiments, but
the prejudice against Indians unfortunately persisted in
certain circles and could not be ignored. We replied that
in order to obviate the difficulty we were prepared to give
an assurance that we would not ask for commissions in
the British Army. We added that we were more interested
104 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

in getting the training than in joining the army as a pro¬

fession. On returning to Cambridge we again tackled the
0. T. C. staff, and we were again told that the War Office
was not objecting to the proposal but the India Office.
Whatever the truth, no doubt that there was prejudice
against Indians in certain British circles. As long as I was
there, our demands were not met by the authorities and I
daresay the position is the same today as it was seventeen
years ago.
Indian students at Cambridge at that time had, on the
whole, a satisfactory record, especially in the matter of
studies. In sports, too, they did not do badly at all. We
would only have liked to see them doing well in boating.
Now that boating is becoming popular in India, it is to
be hoped that in future they will figure conspicuously in
boating also.
The question is often raised as to whether it is desir¬
able to send Indian students abroad and if so at what age.
In 1920 an official committee was appointed, presided over
by Lord Lytton, to consider the affairs of Indian students
in Great Britain, and this point was also discussed in con¬
nection therewith. My considered opinion was and still
is that Indian students should go abroad only when they
have attained a certain level of maturity. In other words,
as a rule, they should go after graduation. In that case
they can make the most of their stay abroad. This was
the view that I put forward when I represented the Cam¬
bridge Indian Majlis before the above Indian Students’
Committee. Much is made of public school training in
Britain. I do not desire to express any opinion as to how
it affects British people and British students. But so far
as Indian students are concerned, I do not have a kind
word for it. At Cambridge I came across some Indian
products of English public schools and I did not think
highly of them.1 Those who had their parents living with
them in England and had home influence to supplement
their school-education fared better than those who were
quite alone. Education in the lower stages must be
1 Every rule has its exceptions, of course.
 AT CAMBRIDGE 105

‘national,’ it must have its roots in the soil. We must draw

our mental pabulum from the culture of our own country.
How can that be possible if one is transplanted at too
early an age? No, we should not, as a rule, countenance
the idea of sending boys and girls to schools abroad quite
alone at an immature age. Education becomes inter¬
national at the higher stages. It is then that students can,
with profit, go abroad, and it is then that the East and
the West can commingle to the benefit of both.
In India members of the Civil Service used to be
known formerly as ‘subjunta’, or one who knows every¬
thing. There was some justification for that because they
used to be put up to all kinds of jobs. The education that
they received did give them a certain amount of elasticity
and a smattering of a large number of subjects which was
helpful to them in actual administration. I realised this
when I sat for the Civil Service Examination, with nine
subjects on my shoulders. Not all of them have been
useful to me in later life, but I must say that the study
of Political Science, Economics, English History, and
Modern European History proved to be beneficial. This
was specially the case with Modern European History.
Before I studied this subject, I did not have a clear idea
of the politics of Continental Europe. We Indians are
taught to regard Europe as a magnified edition of Great
Britain. Consequently we have a tendency to look at the
Continent through the eyes of England. This is, of course,
a gross mistake, but not having been to the Continent, I
did not realise it till I studied Modern European History and
some of its original sources like Bismarck’s Autobiography,
Metternich’s Memoirs, Cavour’s Letters, etc. These ori¬
ginal sources, more than anything else, I studied at Cam¬
bridge, helped to rouse my political sense and to foster
my understanding of the inner currents of international
politics.
Early in July, 1920, the Civil Service open competi¬
tive examination began in London. It dragged on for a
month and the agony was a prolonged one. I had worked
hard, on the whole, but my preparation was far below
106 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

my expectation. So I could not feel hopeful. So many

brilliant students had come down in spite of years of pre¬
paration that it would require some conceit to feel any¬
thing but diffident. My diffidence was heightened when I
foolishly threw away about 150 sure marks in my Sanskrit
paper. It was the translation paper, English to Sanskrit,
and I had done it well. I prepared a rough copy of the
translation first with the intention of making a fair copy
in the answer-book. But so oblivious was I of the time
that when the bell went, I had transcribed only a portion
of the text I had prepared in rough. But there was no
help—the answer-book had to be surrendered and I could
only bite my fingers.
I informed my people that I had not done well and
could not hope to find a place among the selected candi¬
dates. I now planned to continue my work for the Tripos.
Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I got a telegram one
night when I was in London from a friend of mine which
ran thus—‘CONGRATULATIONS SEE MORNING POST’. I
wondered what it meant. Next morning when I got a copy
of the Morning Post, I found that I had come out fourth.
I was glad. A cable went off to India at once.
I had now another problem to face. What should I
do with the job? Was I going to give the go-by to all my
dreams and aspirations, and settle down to a comfortable
life? There was nothing new in that. So many had done
it before—so many had talked big when they were young
and had acted differently when grown up. I knew of a
young man from Calcutta who had Ramakrishna and Vive-
kananda at the tip of his tongue in his college days, but
later on married into a rich family and was now safely
landed in the Indian Civil Service. Then there was the case
of a friend from Bombay who had promised in the presence
of the late Lokamanya Tilak that, if he happened to pass
the I.C.S. Examination, he would resign and devote himself
to national work.1 But I had resolved early in life not to

1 When Lokamanya B. G. Tilak visited Cambridge in 1919 he appealed

to the Indian students not to go in for Government service but to devote
themselves to national service. He regretted that so many bright and
promising students were hankering after Government jobs. This friend
 AT CAMBRIDGE 107

follow the beaten track and, further, I had certain ideals

which I wanted to live up to. It was therefore quite im¬
possible for me to go into the Service unless I could make
a clean sweep of my past life.
There were two important considerations which I had
to weigh before I could think of resigning. Firstly, what
would my people think? Secondly, if I resigned now in a
fit of excitement, would I have any occasion in future to
regret my action? Was I absolutely sure that I was doing
the right thing?
It took me seven long months to make up my mind.
In the meantime, I started a correspondence with my second
brother, Sarat. Fortunately the letters I wrote have been
preserved by him. The ones I received have all been lost
in the storm and stress of a hectic political life. My letters
are interesting inasmuch as they show the working of my
mind in 1920.
The I.C.S. Examination result was declared about the
middle of September, 1920. A few days later when I was
taking a holiday at Leigh-on-Sea in Essex I wrote to him
on the 22nd September as follows :
T was so glad to receive the telegram conveying con¬
gratulations. I don’t know whether I have gained anything
really substantial by passing the I.C.S. Examination—but it
is a great pleasure to think that the news has pleased so
many and especially that it has delighted father and mother
in these dark days.
in a fit of inspiration stood up and announced that, though he was trying
to qualify for the Indian Civil Service, if he manages to pass the exa¬
mination, he would resign and then serve the national cause. He did.
not pass the first time but the next year he was successful and he is
now in the service.
When Lokamanya Tilak was to visit Cambridge, the India Office and
the Foreign Office became nervous. Lord Curzon, who was then the
Foreign Secretary, wrote to the Vice-Chancellor requesting him to stop
his visit if possible. The Vice-Chancellor sent for the Indian students
in that connection, but they declared that since Lokamanya Tilak had
already been invited, it was quite impossible to cancel his visit. There¬
after, there was no interference on the part of the University, Lord
Curzon's letter notwithstanding.
The burden of Lokmanya Tilak’s speech at Cambridge was that he
demanded ‘Home Rule within fifteen years’. Some English undergrads
who had heard that Lokmanya Tilak was a firebrand came to the lecture
expecting some hot stuff. After the lecture they remarkd : Tf these
are your extremists, we don't want to hear your moderates.’
108 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

‘I am here as a paying guest of Mr B.’s family. Mr

B. represents English character at its very best. He is
cultured and liberal in his views and cosmopolitan in his
sentiments... .Mr B. counts among his friends Russians,
Poles, Lithuanians, Irishmen, and members of other nationa¬
lities. He takes a great interest in Russian, Irish and Indian
literature, and admires the writings of Ramesh Dutt and
Tagore... .1 have been getting heaps of congratulations on
my standing fourth in the competitive examination. But
I cannot say that I am delighted at the prospect of enter¬
ing the ranks of the I.C.S. If I have to join this service I
shall do so with as much reluctance as I started my study
for the I.C.S. Examination with. A nice fat income with
a good pension in after-life—I shall surely get Perhaps
I may become a Commissioner if I stoop to make myself
servile enough. Given talents, with a servile spirit one may
even aspire to be the Chief Secretary to a provincial Go¬
vernment. But after all is Service to be the be-all and end-
all of my life? The Civil Service can bring one all kinds
of worldly comfort, but are not these acquisitions made at
the expense of one’s soul? I think it is hypocrisy to main¬
tain that the highest ideals of one’s life are compatible
with subordination to the conditions of service which an
I.C.S. man has got to accept.
‘You will readily understand my mental condition as
I stand on the threshold of what the man-in-the-street would
call a promising career. There is much to be said in
favour of such a service. It solves once for all what is
the paramount problem for each of us—the problem of
bread and butter. One has not to go to face life with risk
or any uncertainty as to success or failure. But for a
man of my temperament who has been feeding on ideas
which might be called eccentric—the line of least resis¬
tance is not the best line to follow. Life loses half its in¬
terest if there is no struggle—if there are no risks to be
taken. The uncertainties of life are not appalling to one
who has not, at heart, worldly ambitions. Moreover, it is
not possible to serve one’s country in the best and fullest
manner if one is chained to the Civil Service. In short,
 AT CAMBRIDGE 109

national and spiritual aspirations are not compatible with

obedience to Civil Service conditions.
‘I realise that it is needless to talk in this fashion as
my will is not my own. Though I am sure that the C.
Service has no glamour for you, father is sure to be hostile
to the idea of my not joining. He would like to see me
settled down in life as soon as possible.... Hence I find
that owing to sentimental and economic reasons, my will
can hardly be called my own. But I may say without
hesitation that if I were given the option—I would be the
last man to join the Indian Civil Service.
‘You may rightly say that, instead of avoiding the
service, one should enter its ranks and fight its evils. But
even if I do so, my position any day may become so into¬
lerable as to compel me to resign. If such a crisis takes
place 5 or 10 years hence, I shall not be in a favourable
position to chalk out a new line for myself—whereas today
there is yet time for me to qualify for another career.
‘If One is cynical enough one may say that all this
“spirit” will evaporate as soon as I am safe in the arms
of the service. But I am determined not to submit to
that sickening influence. I am not going to marry—hence
considerations of worldly prudence will not deter me from
taking a particular line of action if I believe that to be in¬
trinsically right.
‘Constituted as I am, I have sincere doubts as to
whether I should be a fit man for the Civil Service and I
rather think that what little capacity I possess can be better
utilised in other directions for my own welfare as well as
for the welfare of my country.
‘I should like to know your opinion about this. I have
not written to father on this point—I really don’t know
why. I wish I could get his opinion too.’
The above letter shows that the conflict had begun
but was still far from being resolved. On the 26th January,
1921, I reverted to the subject and wrote :
‘... .You may say that instead of shunning this wicked
system we should enter it and fight with it till the last.
But such a fight one has got to carry on single-handed in
110 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

spite of censure from above, transfer to unhealthy places,

and stoppage of promotion. The amount of good that one
can do while in the service is infinitesimal when compared
with what one can do when outside it. Mr R. C. Dutt no
doubt did a lot of work in spite of his service but I am
sure he could have done much more work if he had not
been a member of the bureaucracy. Besides the question
here involved is one of principle. On principle I cannot
accept the idea of being a part of the machinery which
has outlived the days of its usefulness, and stands at pre¬
sent for all that is connected with conservatism, selfish
power, heartlessness, and red-tapism.
‘I am now at the cross-ways and no compromise is
possible. I must either chuck this rotten service and de¬
dicate myself whole-heartedly to the country’s cause—or
I must bid adieu to all my ideals and aspirations and enter
the service. .. .1 am sure many of our relatives will howl
when they hear of such a rash and dangerous proposal....
But I do not care for their opinions, their cheers or their
taunts. But I have faith in your idealism and that is why
I am appealing to you. About this time 5 years ago I
had your moral support in an endeavour which was fraught
with disastrous consequences to myself. For a year my
future was dark and blank, but I bore the consequences
bravely, I never complained to myself, and today I am
proud that I had the strength to make that sacrifice. The
memory of that event strengthens my belief that if any
demands for sacrifice are made upon me in the future I
shall respond with equal fortitude, courage and calmness.
And in this new endeavour can I not expect the same
moral support which you so willingly and so nobly lent
me, five years ago? ....
T am writing to father separately this time and am
appealing to him to give his consent. I hope that if you
agree with my point of view you will try to persuade
father to that effect. I am sure your opinion in this matter
will carry great weight.’
This letter of the 26th January, 1921, shows that I had
moved towards a decision but was still awaiting approval
 AT CAMBRIDGE 111

from home.
The next letter in which there was reference to the
same topic was dated the 16th February, 1921. I wrote
therein :
‘. .. .You have received my “explosive” letter by this
time. Further thought confirms me in my support of the
plans I have sketched for myself in that letter.... If C.
R. Das at his age can give up everything and face the un¬
certainties of life—I am sure a young man like myself, who
has no worldly cares to trouble him, is much more capable
of doing so. If I give up the service, I shall not be in want
of work to keep my hands full. Teaching, social service, co¬
operative credit work, journalism, village organization work,
these are so many things to keep thousands of energetic
young men busy. Personally, I should like to take up
teaching and journalism at present. The National College
and the new paper Swaraj will afford plenty of scope for
my activity. . . .A life of sacrifice to start with, plain living
and high thinking, whole-hearted devotion to the country’s
cause—all these are highly enchanting to my imagination
and inclination. Further, the very principle of serving
under an alien bureaucracy is intensely repugnant to me.
The path of Arabindo Ghosh is to me more noble, more
inspiring, more lofty, more unselfish, though more thorny
than the path of Ramesh Dutt.
‘I have written to father and to mother to permit me
to take the vow of poverty and service. They may be
frightened at the thought that that path might lead to
suffering in the future. Personally I am not afraid of
suffering—in fact, I would rather welcome it than shrink
from it.’
The letter of the 23rd February, 1921, is also interest¬
ing. Therein I say :
‘Ever since the result of the I.C.S. was declared, I
have been asking myself whether I shall be more useful
to my country if I am in the service than if I am not. I
am fully convinced now that I shall be able to serve my
country better if I am one of the people than if I am a
member of the bureaucracy. I do not deny that one can
112 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

do some amount of good when he is in the service but it

can’t be compared with the amount of good that one can
do when his hands are not tied by bureaucratic chains.
Besides, as I have already mentioned in one of my letters,
the question involved is mainly one of principle. The
principle of serving an alien bureaucracy is one to which
I cannot reconcile myself. Besides the first step towards
equipping oneself for public service is to sacrifice all
worldly interests—to burn one’s boats as it were—and
devote oneself whole-heartedly to the national cause. .. .The
illustrious example of Arabindo Ghosh looms large before
my vision. I feel that I am ready to make the sacrifice
which that example demands of me. My circumstances
are also favourable.’
It is clear from the above that I was still under the
influence of Arabindo Ghosh. As a matter of fact it was
widely believed about this time that he would soon return
to active political life.
The next letter was written on the 6th April from
Oxford where I was spending my holidays. By then I had
received my father’s letter disapproving of my plans, but
I had definitely made up my mind to resign. The follow¬
ing extracts are interesting :
‘Father thinks that the life of a self-respecting Indian
Civil Servant will not be intolerable under the new regime
and that home rule will come to us within ten years. But
to me the question is not whether my life will be tolerable
under the new regime. In fact, I believe that, even if I
am in the service, I can do some useful work. The main
question involved is one of principle. Should we under the
present circumstances own allegiance to a foreign bureau¬
cracy and sell ourselves for a mess of pottage? Those who
are already in the service or who cannot help accepting
service may do so. But should I, being favourably situated
in many respects, own allegiance so readily? The day I
sign the covenant I shall cease to be a free man.
‘I believe we shall get Home Rule within ten years
and certainly earlier if we are ready to pay the price. The
price consists of sacrifice and suffering. Only on the soil
 AT CAMBRIDGE 113

of sacrifice and suffering can we raise our national edifice.

If we all stick to our jobs and look after our own interests,
I don’t think we shall get Home Rule even in 50 years.
Each family—if not each individual—should now bring
forward its offering to the feet of the mother. Father wants
to save me from this sacrifice. I am not so callous as not
to appreciate the love and affection which impels him to
save me from this sacrifice, in my own interests. He is
naturally apprehensive that I am perhaps hasty in my
judgement or overzealous in my youthful enthusiasm. But
I am perfectly convinced that the sacrifice has got to be
made—by somebody at least.
‘If anybody else had come forward, I might have had
cause to withdraw or wait. Unfortunately nobody is com¬
ing yet and the precious moments are flying away. In
spite of all the agitation going on there, it still remains
true that not a single Civil Servant has had the courage to
throw away his job and join the people’s movement. This
challenge has been thrown at India and has not been ans¬
wered yet. I may go further and say that in the whole
history of British India, not one Indian has voluntarily
given up the Civil Service with a patriotic motive. It is
time that members of the highest service in India should
set an example to members of the other services. If the
members of the services withdraw their allegiance or even
show a desire to do so—then only will the bureaucratic
machine collapse.
‘I therefore do not see how I can save myself from
this sacrifice. I know what this sacrifice means. It means
poverty, suffering, hard work, and possibly other hardships
to which I need not expressly refer, but which you can
very well understand. But the sacrifice has got to be
made—consciously and deliberately.... Your proposal
that I should resign after returning is eminently reason¬
able but there are one or two points to be urged against
it. In the first place it will be a galling thing for me to
sign the covenant which is an emblem of servitude. In
the second place if I accept service for the present I shall
not be able to return home before December or January,
 114 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

as the usual custom stands. If I resign now, I may return

by July. In six months’ time much water will have flowed
through the Ganges. In the absence of adequate response
at the right moment, the whole movement might tend to
flag, and if response comes too late it may not have any
effect. I believe it will take years to initiate another such
movement and hence I think that the tide in the present
movement must be availed of. If I have to resign, it does
not make any difference to me or to any one of us whether
I resign tomorrow or after a year, but delay in resigning may
on the other hand have some untoward effect on the move¬
ment. I know full well that I can do but little to help the
movement—but it will be a great thing if I have the satis¬
faction of having done my bit.... If for any reason I
happen to change my decision regarding resignation, I
shall send a cable to father as that will relieve his anxiety.’
In the letter written from Cambridge on the 20th
April, I said that I would send in my resignation on the
22nd April.
In my letter dated the 23rd April from Cambridge I
wrote as follows :
‘I had a talk with the Censor of Fitzwilliam Hall, Mr
Reddaway, about my resignation. Contrary to my expect¬
ations, he heartily approved of my ideas. He said he was
surprised, almost shocked, to hear that I had changed my
mind, since no Indian within his knowledge had ever done
that before. I told him that I would make journalism my
profession later on, and he said that he preferred a journa¬
listic career to a monotonous one like the Civil Service.
‘I was at Oxford for three weeks before I came up
here and there the final stage of my deliberation took place.
The only point which had been taxing me for the last few
months was whether I should be justified morally in follow¬
ing a course which would cause intense sorrow and dis¬
pleasure in many minds and especially in the minds of
father and mother .... My position therefore is that, in
entering a new career, I am acting against the express
wishes of father and mother and against your advice
though you have sent me your ‘warmest felicitations in
 AT CAMBRIDGE 115

whatever course I choose.’ My greatest objection to join¬

ing the service was based on the fact that I would have to
sign the covenant and thereby own the allegiance of a
foreign bureaucracy which I feel rightly or wrongly has
no moral right to be there. Once I signed the covenant, it
would not matter from the point of view of principle
whether I served for three days or three years. I have
come to believe that compromise is a bad thing—it de¬
grades the man and injures his cause.... The reason
why Surendra Nath Bannerji is going to end his life with
a knighthood and a ministership is that he is a worshipper
of the philosophy of expediency which Edmund Burke
preached. We have not come to that stage where we can
accept a philosophy of expediency. We have got to make
a nation and a nation can be made only by the uncompro¬
mising idealism of Hampden and Cromwell.I have
come to believe that it is time for us to wash our hands
clean of any connection with the British Government.
Every Government servant whether he be a petty chaprasi
or a provincial Governor only helps to contribute to the
stability of the British Government in India. The best way
to end a Government is to withdraw from it. I say this
not because that was Tolstoy’s doctrine nor because
Gandhi preaches it—but because I have come to believe
in it. . . . I sent in my resignation a few days ago. I have
not yet been informed that it has been accepted.
‘C. R. Das has written, in reply to a letter of mine,
about the work that is already being done. He complains
that there is a dearth of sincere workers at present. There
will consequently be plenty of congenial work for me when
I return home .... I have nothing more to say. The die
is cast and I earnestly hope that nothing but good will
come out of it.’
On the 18th May, I wrote from Cambridge as follows:
‘Sir William Duke is trying to persuade me to with¬
draw my resignation. He wrote to Bardada about it. The
Secretary of the Civil Service Board at Cambridge, Mr
Roberts, also asked me to reconsider my decision and he
said he was acting under instruction from the India Office.
116 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

I have sent word to Sir William saying that I have acted

after mature deliberation.’
This letter requires an annotation. Soon after I sent
in my resignation, there was a flutter in the India Office
dovecots. The late Sir William Duke, then Permanent
Under-Secretary of State for India, who knew my father
when he was Commissioner of Orissa, got into touch with
my eldest brother, Sjt. Satish Chandra Bose, who was then
qualifying himself for the Bar in London. Sir William
advised me through my brother not to resign the service.
I was also approached by lecturers in Cambridge and
asked to reconsider my decision. Then there was a request
from the Secretary of the Civil Service Board in Cambridge,
the late Mr Roberts. All these moves taken from different
directions intrigued me, but most interesting of all was the
last move.
Some months earlier I had a passage-at-arms with Mr
Roberts over some printed instructions issued to Civil Ser¬
vice Probationers by the India Office. These instructions
were under the caption ‘Care of Horses in India’ and con¬
tained remarks to the effect that the India syce (groom)
eats the same food as his horse—that Indian Bunnias
(traders) are proverbially dishonest, etc. I naturally felt
indignant when I received them and had a talk with other
fellow-probationers who had also got them. We all agreed
that the instructions were incorrect and offensive and that
we should make a joint protest. When the time came for
us to write, everybody tried to back out. Ultimately I
grew desperate and decided to act on my own.
I went straight to Mr Roberts and drew his attention to
the incorrect statements in the printed instructions. He
flared up and said, ‘Look here, Mr Bose, if you do not take
up the official point of view, I am afraid you will have to
clear out.’ I was not to be browbeaten so easily and I had
gone prepared for a scrap. So I calmly replied, ‘Yes, but
what do you mean by the official point of view ?’ Mr
Roberts realised at once that browbeating would not do,
so he changed his tone and voice and remarked gently,
‘What I mean is that you should not look out for offences/
 AT CAMBRIDGE 117

I replied that I had not looked out for offences, but that
the instructions were there in front of me. At the end he
came round and said that he would draw the attention of
the India Office to what I had told him. I thanked him and
left.
A fortnight later Mr Roberts sent for me. This time
he was very cordial. He read out a letter from the India
Office in which they thanked me for drawing their atten¬
tion to the printed instructions and assured me that when
the instructions would be reprinted, the necessary correc¬
tions would be made.
After my resignation it was quite a different Mr
Roberts that I met. He was so sweet. He argued long
with me and tried to persuade me that under the new
Constitution, I should try the service for a couple of years.
It was possible under the new Constitution to serve the
country while remaining in the service and if at the end
of two years I found that I could not carry on, then I
would be perfectly justified in resigning. I thanked him
but told him that I had made up my mind because I felt
that I could not serve two masters.
 CHAPTER X

MY FAITH (Philosophical)

In 1917 I became very friendly with a Jesuit father. We

used to have long talks on matters of common interest.
In the Jesuit order founded by Ignatius Loyala I then
found much that appealed to me, for instance, their triple
vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience.1 Unlike many
Jesuits, this father was not dogmatic and he was well versed
in Hindu philosophy. In our discussions he naturally took
his stand on Christian theology as interpreted by his
church, while I took my stand on the Vedanta as inter¬
preted by Shankaracharya. I did not of course compre¬
hend the Shankarite Doctrine of Maya2 in all its abstruse¬
ness, but I grasped the essential principles of it—or at least
I thought I did. One day the Jesuit father turned round
to me and said—‘I admit that Shankara’s position is logi¬
cally the soundest—but to those who cannot live up to it,
we offer the next best.’
There was a time when I believed that Absolute Truth
was within the reach of human mind and that the Doctrine
of Maya represented the quintessence of knowledge. To¬
day I would hesitate to subscribe to that position. I have
ceased to be an absolutist (if I may use that word in my
own sense) and am much more of a pragmatist. What I
cannot live up to—what is not workable—I feel inclined
to discard. Shankara’s Doctrine of Maya intrigued me for
a long time, but ultimately I found that I could not accept
it because I could not live it. So I had to turn to a different
philosophy. But that did not oblige me to go to Christian
theology. There are several schools of Indian philosophy
which regard the world, creation, as a reality and not as

1 There is some analogy to the triple prayer of the Buddhists which

has to be repeated daily—“I take refuge in Buddha; I take refuge in
Dharma (Truth); I take refuge in the Sangha (Order)”.
2 In brief, this theory implies that the world as we perceive it through
our senses is an illusion. It is a case of the rope being mistaken for a
snake, the snake being the world of the senses.
 MY FAITH (PHILOSOPHICAL) 119

an illusion. There is, for example, the theory of Qualified

Monism according to which the ultimate reality is One and
the world is a manifestation of it. Ramakrishna’s view is
similar, that both the One (God) and the Many (Creation)
are true. Several theories have been advanced to explain
the nature of creation. According to some the universe is
the manifestation of Ananda or Divine Bliss. Others hold
that it is the manifestation of Divine Play or ‘Leela’. Several
attempts have also been made to describe the One—the
Absolute—God—in human language and imagery. To
some, like the Vaishnavas, God is Love, to some like the
Shaktas, He is Power; to others He is Knowledge; to still
others He is Bliss. Then there is the traditional conception
of the Absolute in Hindu philosophy as ‘Sat-Chit-Ananda’,
which may be translated as ‘Existence-Consciousness (or
Knowledge)-Bliss’. The more consistent philosophers say
that the Absolute is indescribable or inexpressible (anir-
vachaneeya). And it is reported of Buddha that whenever
he was questioned about the Absolute he remained silent.
It is impossible to comprehend the Absolute through
our human intellect with all its limitations. We cannot
perceive reality as it is objectively—as it is in itself—we
have to do so through our own spectacles, whether these
spectacles be Bacon’s ‘Idola’ or Kant’s ‘forms of the under¬
standing’ or something else. The Hindu philosopher will
probably say that as long as the duality of Subject (Jnata)
and Object (Jneya) remains, knowledge is bound to be
imperfect. Perfect knowledge can be attained only when
Subject and Object merge into oneness. This is not possible
on the mental plane—the plane of ordinary consciousness.
It is possible only in the supra-mental plane—in the region
of super-consciousness. But the conception of the supra-
mental, of the super-conscious, is peculiar to Hindu philo¬
sophy and is repudiated by Western philosophers. Ac¬
cording to the former, perfect knowledge is attainable only
when we reach the level of the super-conscious through
Yogic perception, i.e., intuition of some sort. Intuition as
an instrument of knowledge has, of course, been admitted
in Western philosophy since the time of Henri Bergson,
120 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

though it may still be ridiculed in certain quarters. But

Western philosophy has yet to admit the existence of the
supra-mental and the possibility of our comprehending it
through Yogic perception.
Assuming for a moment for argument’s sake that we
can comprehend the Absolute through Yogic perception,
the difficulty about describing it will still remain. When
we attempt to describe it, we fall back into the plane of
normal consciousness and we are handicapped by all the
limitations of the normal human mind. Our descriptions
of the Absolute God are consequently anthropomorphic.
And what is anthropomorphic cannot be regarded as Ab¬
solute Truth.
Now can we comprehend the Absolute through Yogic
perception ? Is there a supra-mental plane which the in¬
dividual can reach and where the Subject and the Object
merge into oneness ? My attitude to this question is one
of benevolent agnosticism—if I may coin this expression.
On the one hand, I am not prepared to take anything on
trust. I must have first-hand experience, but this sort of
experience in the matter of the Absolute, I am unable to
get. On the other hand, I cannot just rule out as sheer
moonshine what so many individuals claim to have experi¬
enced in the past. To repudiate all that would be to re¬
pudiate much, which I am not prepared to do. I have,
therefore, to leave the question of the supra-mental open,
until such time as I am able to experience it myself. Mean¬
while I take up the position of a relativist. I mean thereby,
that Truth as known to us is not absolute but relative.
It is relative to our common mental constitution—to our
distinctive characteristics as individuals—and to changes
in the same individual during the process of time.
Once we admit that our notions of the Absolute are
relative to our human mind, we should be relieved of a great
deal of philosophical controversy. It would follow that
when such notions differ, they may all be equally true—
the divergence being accounted for by the distinctive in¬
dividuality of the subject. It would follow, further, that
the notions of the same individual with regard to the Ab-
 MY FAITH (PHILOSOPHICAL) 121

solute may vary with time along with his rtiental develop¬
ment. But none of these notions need be regarded as false.
As Vivekananda used to say, ‘Man proceeds not from error
to truth but from truth to higher truth’. There should
accordingly be scope for the widest toleration.
The question now arises : Granting that reality as
known to me is relative and not absolute, what is its nature?
In the first place, it has an objective existence and is not
an illusion. I come to this conclusion not from a priori
considerations but mainly from the pragmatic point of view.
The Doctrine of Maya does not work. My life is incompa¬
tible with it, though I tried long and hard to make my
life fit in with it. I have, therefore, to discard it. On the
other hand, if the world be real (not, of course, in an ab¬
solute but in a relative sense) then life becomes interest¬
ing and acquires meaning and purpose.
Secondly, this reality is not static, but dynamic—it is
ever changing. Has this change any direction ? Yes, it
has; it is moving towards a better state of existence. Actual
experience demonstrates that the changes imply progress
—and not meaningless motion.
Further, this reality is, for me, Spirit working with a
conscious purpose through time and space. This concep¬
tion does not, of course, represent the Absolute Truth which
is beyond description for all time and which for me is also
beyond comprehension at the present moment. It is there¬
fore a relative truth and is liable to change along with
the changes in my mind.1 Nevertheless, it is a conception
which represents my utmost effort to comprehend reality
and which offers a basis on which to build my life.
Why do I believe in Spirit ? Because it is a pragmatic
necessity. My nature demands it. I see purpose and design
in nature; I discern an ‘increasing purpose’ in my own
life. I feel that I am not a mere conglomeration of atoms.
I perceive, too, that reality is not a fortuitous combination
of molecules. Moreover, no other theory can explain

1 There is nothing wrong in this—for as Emerson said, a foolish

consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. Moreover, what is progress
if it does not involve change ?
122 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

reality (as I understand it) so well. This theory is in short

an intellectual and moral necessity, a necessity of my very
life, so far as I am concerned.
The world is a manifestation of Spirit and just as Spirit
is eternal so also is the world of creation. Creation does
not and cannot end at any point of time. This view is
similar to the Vaishnavic conception of Eternal Play (Nitya
Leela). Creation is not the offspring of sin; nor is it the
result of ‘avidya’ or ‘ignorance’ as the Shankarites would
say. It reflects the eternal play of eternal forces—the
Divine Play, if you will.
I may very well be asked why I am bothering about
the ultimate nature of reality and similar problems and
am not contenting myself with experience as I find it. The
answer to that is simple. The moment we analyse experi¬
ence, we have to posit the self—the mind which receives
—and the non-self—the source of all impressions, which
form the stuff of our experience. The non-self—reality
apart from the self—is there and we cannot ignore its exis¬
tence by shutting our eyes to it. This reality underlies all
our experience and on our conception of it depends much
that is of theoretical and practical value to us.
No, we cannot ignore reality. We must endeavour to
know its nature—though, as I have already indicated, that
knowledge can at best be relative and cannot be dignified
with the name of Absolute Truth. This relative truth must
form the basis of our life—even if what is relative is liable
to change.
What then is the nature of this Spirit which is reality?
One is reminded of the parable of Ramakrishna about a
number of blind men trying to describe an elephant—each
giving a description in accordance with the organ he touch¬
ed and therefore violently disagreeing with the rest. My
own view is that most of the conceptions of reality are
true, though partially, and the main question is which con¬
ception represents the maximum truth. For me, the essen¬
tial nature of reality is LOVE. LOVE is the essence of
the Universe and is the essential principle in human life.
I admit that this conception also is imperfect—for I do not
 MY FAITH (PHILOSOPHICAL) 123

know today what reality is in itself and I cannot lay claim

to knowing the Absolute today—even if it be within the
ultimate reach of human knowledge or experience. Never¬
theless, with all its imperfection, for me this theory repre¬
sents the maximum truth and is the nearest approach to
Absolute Truth.
I may be asked how I come to the conclusion that the
essential nature of reality is LOVE. I am afraid my epis¬
temology is not quite orthodox. I have come to this con¬
clusion partly from a rational study of life in all aspects—
partly from intuition and partly from pragmatic consider¬
ations. I see all around me the play of love; I perceive
within me the same instinct; I feel that I must love in
order to fulfil myself and I need love as the basic principle
on which to reconstruct life. A plurality of considerations
drives me to one and the same conclusion.
I have remarked above that the essential principle in
human life is love. This statement may be challenged
when one can see so much in life that is opposed to love;
but the paradox can be easily explained. The ‘essential
principle is not fully manifest yet; it is unfolding itself in
space and time. Love, like reality of which it is the essence,
is dynamic.
What, now, is the nature of the process of unfolding?
Firstly, is it a movement forward or not? Secondly, is
there any law underlying this movement?
The unfolding process is progressive in character. This
assertion is not quite dogmatic. Observation and study of
nature point to the conclusion that everywhere there is
progress. This progress may not be unilinear; there may
be periodic setbacks—but on the whole, i.e., considered
from a long period point of view, there is progress. Apart
from this rational consideration there is the intuitive ex¬
perience that we are moving ahead with the lapse of time.
And last but not least, there is the necessity, both biological
and moral, to have faith in progress.
As various attempts have been made to know reality
and to describe it—so also have attempts been made to
comprehend the law of progress. None of these efforts
124 AN INDIAN PILGRIM

is futile; each gives us a glimpse of the truth. The Sankhya

Philosophy of the Hindus was probably the oldest endeav¬
our to describe the evolutionary process in nature. That
solution will not satisfy the modern mind. In more recent
times, we have various theories, or perhaps descriptions,
of evolution. Some like Spencer would have us believe
that evolution consists in a development from the simple
to the complex. Others like von Hartmann would assert
that the world is a manifestation of blind will—from which
one could conclude that it is futile to look for an underly¬
ing idea. Bergson would maintain his own theory of
creative evolution; evolution should imply a new creation
or departure at every stage, which cannot be calculated
in advance by the human intellect. Hegel, on the contrary,
would dogmatise that the nature of the evolutionary pro¬
cess, whether in the thought world or in reality outside,
is dialectic. We progress through conflicts and their solu¬
tions. Every thesis provokes an antithesis. This conflict
is solved by a synthesis, which in its turn, provokes new
antithesis—and so on.
All these theories have undoubtedly an element of
truth. Each of the above thinkers has endeavoured to
reveal the truth as he has perceived it. But undoubtedly
Hegel’s theory is the nearest approximation to truth. It
explains the facts more satisfactorily than any other theory.
At the same time, it cannot be regarded as the whole truth
since all the facts as we know them, do not accord with
it. Reality is, after all, too big for our frail understanding
to fully comprehend. Nevertheless, we have to build our
life on the theory which contains the maximum truth. We
cannot sit still because we cannot, or do not, know the
Absolute Truth.
Reality, therefore, is Spirit, the essence of which is
Love, gradually unfolding itself in an eternal play of con¬
flicting forces and their solutions.
 Part II

LETTERS 1912 — 1921

■' s
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 LETTERS 1912-1921

These letters were written by Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose

during his boyhood, adolescence and youth between 1912 and
1921. There are altogether 70 letters written by him to his mother
Prabhabati Bose, brother Sarat Chandra Bose, boyhood friends
Hemanta Kumar Sarkar and Charu Chandra Ganguly, Deshbandhu
Chittaranjan Das and other friends. His historic letter to the
Secretary of State for India tendering resignation from the Indian
Civil Service is also included. Seven letters to Sarat Chandra
Bose written in connection with his decision to resign from the
Indian Civil Service have been published in full in this volume
for the first time.

The letters to his mother and brother provide together with his
autobiography, the source material with which to begin a study of
Netaji’s early mental and intellectual development. A long series
of letters to Hemanta Kumar Sarkar, suitably edited, cover the
period from his early college days to his resignation from the
Indian Civil Service. It will be seen that these letters, rather
than merely recording the many events and episodes, reveal the
inner struggles of the writer. The two letters to Deshbandhu Das
and the seven letters to Sarat Bose from England will, we hope,
not fail to receive the special attention they deserve. They mark
the first major decision in Subhas Chandra’s life and what is his¬
torically most stimulating, they reveal for the first time the political
visionary, planner and strategist that was about to enter the Indian
political scene-

Except for the letters written to his brother in 1912-13 and

again in 1920-21 all the rest had to be translated from the originals
in Bengali. In rendering them into English—by no means an easy
task—every effort has been made to preserve the spirit and tone of
the originals, even if that has meant disregarding English idiom to a
certain extent. In his letters to his friends and to Deshbandhu
Das, Netaji used English expressions rather freely. These have
been retained with necessary alterations in placement. For Ben¬
gali expressions and names which we have chosen to retain the
non-Bengali reader will please refer to the section of Refer¬
ences and the Glossary.

The first nine letters were written bv Netaji to his mother

Prabhabati Bose. All of them were undated. But, checking up
on events mentioned in the letters, it can be established that they
were written in 1912-13.
The letters have been translated from the originals in Bengali.
The traditional form of address' used by the writer in the letters,
if translated literally, would read: 'Submitted at the lotus-feet
of my most revered mother’. For the convenience of the non-
Bengali reader, this has been given in the translations simply as
‘Revered mother’.—Ed.
128 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

(1)

THE LORD BE WITH US

Cuttack,
Saturday

Revered mother,
Today is the final day of the Puja; so you must now
be in our country home—engrossed in the worship of the
Goddess.
I expect the Puja this year will be performed with
great pomp and ceremony. But, mother, is there any need
of pomp and ceremony ? It is enough if we invoke the
One we seek to attain with all our heart and in all sincerity;
what more is needed ? When devotion and love take the
place of sandal wood and flowers, our worship becomes
the most sublime thing in the world. Pomp and devotion
are incompatible. This year I have a pang in my heart.
It is a great sorrow—not an ordinary one. This year I
have been denied the fulfilment that comes through the Dar-
shan of the Goddess Durga, the Queen of the three realms,
our Saviour from all misfortune and Protector from all
evil, the Mother of the Universe,—attired in elaborate and
magnificent robes and revealed in all Her resplendent glory
with myriad lights shining around her; this time I have
missed the happiness that comes from listening to the
melodious chanting of the sacred hymns by our revered
priest to the sound of the conch-shell and the gong; the
satisfaction of sensing the sacred aroma of flowers, sandal¬
wood and incense and of sharing with others the holy food
offered to the Goddess; on this occasion I have been de¬
prived of the privilege of being blessed by the priest with
the holy flowers and, above all, of the mental peace that
comes from contact with the holy water of the Puja; I
missed everything; all my five senses remain unsatisfied.
If I could perceive the omnipresent and universal image
of the Goddess, I would not be so mortified and I would
not hanker after the wooden image; but how many are so
blessed and fortunate as to have this perception ! So, I
 LETTERS 1912-1921 129

remain unconsoled.
I shall be pining away at this place on the immersion
day but at heart I shall be with you all. There will be no
happiness for me on such a sacred day. There is no help
for it now—tomorrow evening we shall send you our
pronams from here. You and father will please accept
the pronams and convey the same to all superiors.
We are all well. I hope all of you are in good health.
My pronams to you and father.
Your devoted son
Subhas
P.S.—How is Sarada ?

(2)

THE DIVINE MOTHER BE WITH US

Cuttack,
Saturday
Revered mother,
I was extremely happy to receive your letter this
morning. The money order for Rs. 50/- came with it.
Please do not be in a hurry to reply to my letters—
please do so at your leisure. If you have difficulty in read¬
ing through them, please get somebody else to read them
out to you.
Pea seeds are being sown or will soon be sown in
Jobra garden. Five or six days ago Raghua took the seeds
from me. I did not visit the garden.
I was sorry to hear that Nagen Thakur was not able
to perform the Puja this year. Has he recovered com¬
pletely ? Of all the Pujas that I have attended, those con¬
ducted by Nagen Thakur and our most revered Gurudev
I have found to be the most effective in creating religious
fervour. Nagen Thakur’s chanting of the Chandi is most
moving and even an unbeliever becomes a devotee.
I am delighted to learn that the house of our revered
Gurudev in Kodalia has been completed. We shall take
the first opportunity of visiting the house when we go to
130 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

our village next. Please convey my respectful pronams to

him when you see him. I am pained to hear of Bardidi’s
illness. How is she ? We were anxious to learn that you
had an attack of dengue fever. Please let us know how
you are now and relieve our anxiety. The entire set of
hymns of Sankaracharya are being sold from the office of
Basumati at a very reasonable price. One book contains
all his hymns and the price is only twelve annas or one
rupee. Please do not miss this chance. Please ask Kanchi-
Mama to go and buy a copy. Please keep the book with
you and bring it along when you come to Cuttack.
Mother, I have something to tell you. You are pro¬
bably aware that I am particularly anxious to become a
vegetarian. But lest people say something adverse or take
it otherwise, I have not been able to fulfil my wish. A
month ago I gave up all non-vegetarian food except fish.
But today Nadada forced some meat on me. What could
I do ! I could not help eating it, but with great reluctance.
I want to be a vegetarian because our sages have said that
non-violence is a great virtue. Not only the sages—but
God Himself has said so. What right have we to destroy
God’s creations ? Is it not a great sin to do so ? Those
who say that visual power diminishes if fish is not eaten,
are wrong. Our sages were not so ignorant as to forbid
eating of fish if that would cause blindness in people. What
is your opinion in this regard ?
I do not feel like doing anything without your consent.
We are all well. My pronams to you all,
Your devoted son
Subhas

(3)
THE LORD BE WITH US
Cuttack
Saturday
Revered mother,
Gopali told me that you have not gone to Kashi and
that father has gone there alone. I learn from father’s
 LETTERS 1912-1921 131

letter that it was not possible for you to go because the Raja
of Aal did not send money in time. Yesterday I sent you
the prescription you mentioned but as I was in haste I
could not write very much. I found two prescriptions of
Nilratan Babu in your room. But I could not decide which
one was wanted; so I sent both. Please ask Chotdada to
pick the right one.
I finished my letter to Didi and mailed it yesterday.
I am eager to know where and how Lily is.
Mejdada has written me a long letter at my request.
I received it yesterday—my joy on receiving it knew no
bounds. The trouble he has taken at my very humble
request is embarrassing to me. I shall preserve the letter
like a treasure till his return.
What more can I write? By God’s grace, we are all
well. Sarat Babu (Jamaibabu’s brother) is here now. I
suppose he will leave when he has been able to fix up his
quarters.
Please let me know how our most revered Gurudev
and the Mother are keeping ? Please convey my respectful
pronams to them. I remember them every day. How he
used to gather flowers here and how we used to go to him
to enjoy their fragrance—all this is still vivid in my
memory. How he distributed the holy water and flowers
after performing Puja one day still floats clearly before
my mind’s eye. I am writing like a mad man. You will
probably have trouble reading my letter.
Our school will probably close on the 15th—I am not
sure—the notice is not out yet. The rest of the news you
will have from Bardada.
I am well. I expect you will find me stronger and
heavier when you see me next. If that does not happen,
it will not be my fault—I have to thank my stars for it.
I doubt if others take as much care of their health as I do.
But you seem to think that I am wilfully spoiling my health.
I am feeling better now than a month ago.
The average daily expense is coming to Rs. 4/- to
Rs. 5/- on some days and Rs. 3/- on others. The thirty
rupees received from you have all been spent. Jagatbandhu
132 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

gave me Rs. 37-8-0 annas from father’s account. I am

spending out of that for different items.
It is getting somewhat cool here very early in the
morning—but winter is yet to come. Cauliflowers have not
yet been planted. Two rupees worth of cauliflower seeds
have been purchased—only tiny shoots have made their
appearance.
Where are Bowdidi, Mamima and Mejabowdidi now
and how are they ? Convey my pronams to them. How
is Asoke ? Does he have all his teeth by now ? All is well
here. I hope all is well at your end too. Please accept
our pronams.
Your devoted son
Subhas

(4)
Cuttack
Thursday
Revered mother,
Please forgive me for not having written to you for so
long. Please write to us about the present state of NadadxTs
health and allay our anxiety. Will it not be possible for
him to take his examination this time ?
Divine Mother’s mercy is ever present with us—if one
looks for it one can perceive it every moment of our lives.
But, then, we are ignorant, non-believers and confirmed
atheists—that is why we fail to realise the profundity of His
mercy. And, we pray to him when we are in trouble—
maybe with some degree of sincerity; but, once we
are out of trouble and things begin to look up we stop
praying and forget Him. That is why Kunti Devi had
said, ‘0 Lord ! please keep me in adversity, all the time,
so that I may be praying to you always with all my heart;
happiness may lead me to forget you; so let me not be
happy.’
The essence of human life—a continuous cycle of birth
and death—is dedication to Lord Hari. Life is meaningless
without it. The difference between me and an animal is
 LETTERS 1912-1921 133

that the latter cannot feel the presence of God or pray to

Him, while we can, if we try. So my coming into this
world will be of no avail if I fail to sing His Glory. Knowl¬
edge is vast—much too vast—my limited intellect cannot
grasp it all; therefore, 1 must have Devotion now, not
Knowledge. I do not want to (reason) argue—because I
am utterly ignorant. I must therefore have only Faith—
unquestioning Faith—Faith in the existence of the Lord; I
want nothing else. Faith will bring Devotion and Knowl¬
edge will come from Devotion. The great sages have said:
Devotion leads on to Knowledge. The aims of education
are to sharpen the intellect and develop the power of dis¬
crimination. Education can be taken to have served its
purpose if these two aims are fulfilled. If an educated
person has no character, shall I call him a Pandit ? Never.
And, if an uneducated person is conscientious in his ways,
believes in and loves God, I am prepared to accept him as
a Maha-Pandit. Learning a few platitudes does not make
a man learned; true knowledge comes from realisation of
God. The rest is not Knowledge. I do not wish to lionize
the learned or the Pandit. I worship the man whose heart
is overflowing with the love of God. Even if he be of low
caste, I am prepared to accept the dust of his feet as
something sacred. And, one who shows all the signs of
ecstasy at the mere mention of ‘Durga’ or ‘HarV—-namely,
perspiration, weeping, etc. is undoubtedly God Himself.
The world is hallowed by their presence—we are just in¬
significant beings.
For nothing we hanker after riches, but we never care
to think who is truly wealthy. In this world, one who is
endowed with love of and devotion to God and such price¬
less attributes, is the wealthy person. Compared to him
even the big kings are like beggars. That we are alive
even after losing this priceless treasure is a wonder !
We become restless at the approach of ‘examinations’
but never stop to think that every moment of our lives
we are being tested. We are on trial before God, before
our Dharma. Educational tests are quite unimportant—
and they are of temporary value. But the other tests are
134 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

for eternity. We have to suffer their results in this life

and those that follow.
He who goes through this life placing himself unreserve¬
dly at the hands of God is the blessed one—his life attains
fulfilment and his coming into this world has meaning. But,
alas, we refuse to accept this great truth. We are so blind,
so unbelieving and so ignorant that we fail to realise this
truth. We are not men, we are rakshasas of this sinful
age.
Nevertheless, we have hope—God is merciful, He is
always merciful. Even in the midst of the darkest sin, we
can recognise His mercy. His compassion is immeasurable.
When Vaishnava religion was facing extinction, the
greatest of the Vaishnavas, Adwaitacharya, mortified by the
humiliation of his religion, prayed thus : ‘0 Lord, save us,
religion is in peril in this sinful age; please come and save
us.’ Thereupon Lord Narayana appeared on this earth in
the form of Shri Chaitanya. Such experience—that of
emergence from time to time of the light of truth, knowl¬
edge, love and piety in the midst of darkness and sin—
gives us hope that we are not beyond redemption yet;
else why should He return to this earth in human form
again and again. How much longer will you be staying
in Calcutta ? Please let us know how you all are and allay
our anxiety. We are all well. Father is well.
Your devoted son
Subhas

(5)

THE DIVINE MOTHER BE WITH US

Cuttack
Sunday
Revered mother,
I have not written to you for quite some time; I have
some leisure today and so I wish to give myself and my
pen the great privilege of writing these few lines to you.
Ideas come surging from within me from time to time
 LETTERS 1912-1921 135

as when flowers come to bloom in a garden and I offer

them at your feet as outpourings of my heart. But, I have
become somewhat impatient as I have had no means of
knowing whether they give you the sensation of some
satisfaction as fragrant flowers do or whether they repel
you because of their pungency.
I do not know in whom to confide the thoughts that
come rushing inside me as untimely clouds in the horizon;
and so I send them far away to you. I shall be delighted
to know how you take them. But whether they please you
or not, I dare to send them to you as the only offering that
I can make from my heart.
Mother, what in your opinion is the purpose of our
education ? You are spending so much on us—you are
sending us to school by car in the morning and fetching
us again in the afternoon, giving us sumptuous food four
or five times a day, dressing and clothing us, employing
servants,—I wonder what are all this trouble, struggle and
effort for? What after all is the purpose? I am unable to
understand. After finishing our education we shall enter
the life of activity, then go on toiling the rest of our lives
like beasts of burden and thereafter depart from this world.
Mother, what sort of career for us will please you most ?
In what sort of activity would you like us most to be
engaged in when we grow up ? I wonder what your desire
is. I do not know if you will be the happiest if we grow
up to be judges, magistrates, barristers or high-placed
officials, or if we come to be admired for wealth and for¬
tune by the men of the world, or if we come to possess
abundant wealth, cars, horses, etc. and can command long
retinues of servants, mansions, landed estates, etc. or if we
earn the respect of the learned and the virtuous for having
grown up to be “real men” even though we may be poor.
I am most anxious to know what you would most like
your son to be. Merciful God has given us this life, a
sound body, intelligence and strength, which are all so
precious, but why ? He has given us so much of course
for His worship and His work—but, Mother, do we do His
work ? We hardly pray to Him with all our heart once a
136 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

day. Mother, it is most painful and disheartening to think

that we hardly ever call out to Him—who is doing so much
for us, who is always our friend, in prosperity or adversity,
at home or in the wilderness, who lives always in our heart
and is so close to us and who belongs to us. We weep
over unimportant worldly things but have not a tear to
spare for Him. Mother, are we not more ungrateful and
heartless than even animals ? Shame on this Godless edu¬
cation ! One who does not sing His Glory has been born
in vain! One can quench one’s physical thirst by drinking
water out of a pond or river, but is it so easy to satisfy
one’s spiritual thirst ? No, it is never possible to quench
spiritual thirst completely. That is why our sages have
said:
“O Ignorant Man ! Take refuge in Him! Resign your¬
self completely to Him.”
In the current age, God has created something new,
something that was not in existence in previous ages. This
new creation is the Babu. We belong to this community
of Babus. God has given us a pair of legs, but we are un¬
able to walk 40/45 miles because we are Babus. We
possess a pair of precious hands but we are averse to
manual labour, we do not make proper use of our hands,
because we are Babus. God has given us good physique
but we look upon physical labour as behoving only inferior
classes because we are of the class of Babus. For all sorts
of work we cry out for servants—we have difficulty in
working our limbs—because, after all, we are Babus.
Though born in a tropical country we cannot bear the heat
because we are Babus. We are so scared of the cold that
we cover ourselves up with the heaviest possible clothing
because we are Babus. We parade ourselves as Babus
everywhere as we are after all Babus—but in fact we are
animals in the garb of humans, devoid of all human attri¬
butes. We are even lower than animals because we have
intelligence and conscience which animals have not. Being
reared ever since birth in comfort and luxury, we have
no capacity whatever to face difficulties—and that is why
we cannot master our senses. We remain slaves of our
 LETTERS 1912-1921 137

senses throughout our lives and life becomes* a burden to

us. I often wonder when will the Bengalis rise to the full
stature of manhood—when will they overcome their weak¬
ness for money and start thinking of the higher things of
life—when will they learn to stand on their own legs in
all matters—when will they start striving simultaneously
for physical, mental and spiritual upliftment—when will
they become self-reliant like other nations and proclaim
their manhood? It pains me deeply to find that nowadays
many Bengalis, under the influence of Western education,
turn into atheists and spurn their own religion. It distresses
me to see the present-day Bengalis drifting into a life of
foppery and luxury and losing their character. What a
pity that Bengalis nowadays have learnt to look down
upon their own national costume! It hurts me deeply to
find that among the Bengalis today there are very few
strong, healthy and vigorous persons. And to crown it
all, it is so tragic to see that very few among the Bengali
gentlemen today pray to God as a daily duty. What can
be more painful, Mother, than to find that Bengalis today
have become ease-loving, narrow-minded, characterless,
and given to jealousy and dabbling in other people’s affairs!
We are now being educated; if the aim is mere jobs and
money, how can we be worthy of the education and of our
manhood? Mother, will Bengalis ever come into their
own? What is your view? Mother, we as a nation are
heading towards perdition. Who will be our saviour? The
saviour can only be Bengal’s mothers; if Bengal’s mothers
bring their sons up in an entirely new way can Bengalis
once again regain their manhood.
We are doing well. I have written to Chotdada. Father
will be leaving for Gopanipalan on Monday. Please
accept my pronams. I have raved a lot in this letter. If
you have trouble reading it, please tear it up and forgive
me.
Your devoted son
Subhas
138 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

(6)

THE DIVINE MOTHER BE WITH US

Cuttack
Sunday
Revered mother,
India is God’s beloved land. He has been born in this
great land in every age in the form of the Saviour for the
enlightenment of the people, to rid this earth of sin and
to establish righteousness and truth in every Indian heart.
He has come into being in many countries in human form
but not so many times in any other country—that is why
I say, India, our motherland, is God’s beloved land. Look,
Mother, in India you may have anything you want—the
hottest Summer, the severest Winter, the heaviest rains
and again, the most heart-warming Autumn and Spring—
everything you want. In the Deccan, I see the Godavari)t
with her pure and sacred waters reaching up to its banks,
wending its way eternally to sea, a holy river indeed !
To see her or think of her at once brings to one’s mind
the story of Panchabati of the Ramayana—and I can see
with my mind’s eye the three of them, Rama, Lakshmana
and Sita, spending their time in great happiness and in
heavenly bliss on the banks of the Godavari, forsaking their
kingdom and wealth; no worldly grief or anxiety affect the
contented look on their faces; the three of them are spend¬
ing their time in great joy in the worship of Nature and
the Almighty. And, at the other end, we are all the time
being consumed in the fire of worldly sorrows! Where is
that happiness! Where is that peace! We are hankering
after peace! There can be peace only through the con¬
templation and worship of God. If there is any way of
having peace on this earth, every home must resound with
the song of God. Again, when I look in the northerly direc¬
tion, a more sublime scene comes before my mind’s eye.
I see the holy Ganges proceeding along her course—re¬
viving in me another scene of the Ramayana. I see
Valmiki’s sacred abode of meditation in the wilderness—
resounding all the while with the voice of the great sage,
 LETTERS 1912-1921 139

chanting mantras from the Holy Vedas—I can see the aged
sage sitting on a deer-skin with his two disciples at his feet,
Kusha and Laba, who are receiving instruction from him.
Even the crooked serpent has lost its venom and is silently
listening to the mantras with its head raised in attention;
herds of cattle, come to the Ganges to quench their thirst,
are also stopping to listen to the blessed sound of the
mantras; nearby a deer is lying on the ground and gazing
intently at the face of the great sage. Every little thing
in the Ramayana is so noble—the description of even a
single blade of grass is so nobly done; but, alas, having for¬
saken religion, we are now unable to appreciate this
nobility. I am reminded of another scene. The Ganges
is on its course, carrying away all the filth of this world;
the Yogis have collected on its bank—some have half-
closed eyes engrossed in their morning prayers, some have
built images and are worshipping them with sweet-smelling
flowers collected from the forest and with burning sandal¬
wood and incense, mantras chanted by some of them are
being echoed and re-echoed through the atmosphere—some
are purifying themselves with the holy water of the Ganges
—some again are humming to themselves as they collect
flowers for the Puja. Everything is so noble—and so pleas¬
ing to the eye as well as to the mind. But, alas! Where
are those high-souled seers today ? Do we hear their
prayers any more ? There is no more of their yoga, their
prayers, their worship, etc.! It is a heart-rending situation.
We have lost our religion, and everything else—even our
national life. We are now a weak, servile, irreligious and
cursed nation ! 0 Lord ! the same India has fallen on
such evil days ! Will you not come and resurrect us ?
This is Your land—but, look, 0 Lord, in what state she is
now ! Where is the eternal religion that your chosen
men established here ? The religion and the nation that
our forebears the Aryans built up and established are now
in ruins. 0 Merciful God, take pity on us and save us !
Mother, when I sit down to write a letter I lose all
sense of proportion. I hardly know what I am going to
write and what I am able to write. Whatever occurs to
14,0 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

me in the first instance I put down—I do not care to think

what I write and why. I write as I wish and as my mind
dictates. You will forgive me if I have written anything
improper.
When I think of the passing away of our most re¬
vered Gurudev, I hardly know if I should feel sorry or be
happy. We do not know where man goes after leaving
this world or what happens to him. But, ultimately our
soul merges with the Eternal—and then is the happiest
time for us—without any pain and sorrow—there are not
any more the pangs of rebirth—we enjoy eternal bliss.
When I think that he has left for a region where eternal
peace prevails, that he is enjoying heavenly bliss in the
company of Immortals, I do not find any reason to be
sorry. Sorrow should not get the better of us when he
has reached the abode of eternal happiness and the thought
of his happiness should make us happy also. Whatever
Merciful God does is for the good of the world. We were
unable to realise this in the beginning because we were
immature. When realisation comes we can appreciate with
all our being that actually whatever our good Lord does is
for the good. When God has taken him away from us for
the fulfilment of His own purpose, we should not needlessly
give in to sorrow; after all, what belongs to Him He can
take away at His Will—what right have we to interfere ?
And, if, by the Will of God, he chooses to take on
human form again to lead his misguided fellow-men along
the path of righteousness and to inspire them with the
tenets of the eternal religion, we have nothing to be sorry
about. Because, the world will be benefited immeasurably
thereby. We cannot as well go against something that is
for the good of the world. Every human being stands to
benefit from this. We are Indians—so India’s good is our
good. We should feel infinitely happy if he is reborn and
seeks to bring our Indian brethren back to the path of
religion. The Lord has Himself said in the Gita.
As are childhood, youth and old age, in this body to the
embodied soul, so also is the attaining of another body.
Calm souls are not deluded thereat.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 141

We are all well. We are in His keeping and it is His Will.

We are merely His playthings—how much power do we
possess—all depends on His Mercy. We are gardeners—
He is the owner of the garden. We work in the garden
but we have no right to the fruits. We work in the garden
and what fruits are grown we offer at His feet. We have
the right to work, it is our duty to work—but the product
belongs to Him, not to us. So, God has said in the Gita:
“You have a right to action, but not to the fruits thereof”.
Where is Lily now and how is she ? I am not writing
to her as I do not know where she is. Where and how
are Mamima and my sisters-in-law? How are the brothers?
How are all the rest ? How is father and how are you ?
Please accept my pronams. What news have you of
Mejdada ? I have not received any letter from him for
the last two or three mail days. How is Natun Mamababu?
I have heard that Choto Mamima is seriously ill. How
is she ? How is Sarada ?
Your devoted son
Subhas

(7)
Ranchi
Sunday
Revered mother,
I have not had any news of Calcutta for quite some
time. I hope all of you are in good health. I presume
you have not written for want of time.
How did Mejdada fare in his examination ? Did you
read the whole of my letter ? I would be indeed sorry if
you did not.
Mother, I wonder if Mother India in this age has one
single selfless son—is our motherland really so unfortun¬
ate ? Alas ! What happened to our hoary past ? Where
are those Aryan heroes who would freely sacrifice their
precious lives in the service of Mother India ?
You are a mother, but do you belong only to us ? No,
you are the mother of all Indians—if every Indian is a son
142 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

to you, do not the sorrows of your sons make you cry

out in agony ? Can a mother be heartless ? No, that can
never be—because a mother can never be heartless. Then,
how is it that in the face of such a miserable state of her
children, mother remains unmoved ! Mother, you have
travelled in all parts of India—does not your heart bleed
at the sight of the present deplorable state of Indians ? We
are ignorant—and so we may be selfish but a mother can
never be selfish because a mother lives for her children.
If that be so, how is it that mother is unmoved when her
children are suffering ! Then, is the mother also selfish ?
No, no, that can never be—a mother can never be selfish.
Mother, it is not only the country that is in a pitiable
condition ! Look at the state of our religion ! How holy
and eternal the Hindu religion was and how degraded our
religion is now ! Think of the Aryans who hallowed this
earth by their presence and look at us their fallen descen¬
dants ! Is that holy eternal faith going to be extinct ? Look,
how atheism, lack of faith and bigotry have become ram¬
pant—leading to so much sin and so much misery for
the people. Look, how the descendants of the deeply re¬
ligious Aryan race have now become irreligious and
atheistic ! Worship, prayer and contemplation were then
man’s only duty ; how many today invoke His name once
in their lifetime ? Mother, does not the sight of all this
and the thought of all this move you too deeply and to
tears ? Do you not really feel this way ? That can never
be. A mother can never be heartless !
Mother, please take a good look at the miserable condi¬
tion of your children. Sin, all manner of suffering, hunger,
lack of love, jealousy, selfishness and above all, lack of
religion, have made their existence a veritable Hell. And,
look at the state of the holy eternal religion ! And look,
it is on the way to oblivion ! Lack of faith, atheism and
superstition have brought our religion down and vulgarised
it. What is more, nowadays so many sins are being com¬
mitted in the name of religion—so much sacrilege in the
holy places ! Look at the terrible state in which the
pandas of Puri find themselves ! What a shame indeed !
 LETTERS 1912-1921 143

Look at the holy Brahmin of our olden days and the hypo¬
critical Brahmin of the present time. Now, wherever re¬
ligion is practised there is so much bigotry and sin.
Alas ! What have we come to ! What has our religion
come to ! Mother, when you think of such things, do you
not become restless ? Does not your heart cry out in
pain ?
Will the condition of our country continue to go from
bad to worse—will not any son of Mother India in distress,
in total disregard of his selfish interests, dedicate his whole
life to the cause of the Mother ?
Mother, how much longer shall we sleep? How much
longer shall we go on playing with non-essentials ? Shall
we continue to turn a deaf ear to the wailings of our nation?
Our ancient religion is suffering the pangs of near death—
does that not stir our hearts ?
How long can one sit with folded arms and watch this
state of our country and religion ? One cannot wait any
more—one cannot sleep any more,—we must now shake
off our stupor and lethargy and plunge into action. But,
alas ! How many selfless sons of the Mother are prepared,
in this selfish age, to completely give up their personal
interests and take the plunge for the Mother ? Mother, is
this son of yours yet ready ?
We have attained human life after as many as eighty-
four cycles of existence,—we have intelligence, conscience,
soul, etc. But, in spite of having all these, if we remain
satisfied like animals with mere eating and sleeping, if we
remain slaves of the senses, if we remain occupied only
with ourselves and like animals lead amoral lives,—then,
what is the meaning of our being born humans ? A life
in the service of others is the only one worth living.
Mother, do you know why I am writing all this to you?
To whom else can I talk ? Who will listen to me ? Who
else will take all this seriously ? Those, whose lives are
motivated only by selfish considerations, cannot afford to
think on such lines—will not think on such lines—lest their
self-interest should be impaired. But, a mother’s life is not
motivated by selfish considerations. Her life is dedicated to
 144 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

her children—to the country. If you read the history of

India, you will see that so many mothers have lived for
the sake of Mother India and have, when the need arose,
sacrificed their lives for her. Think of Ahalya Bai, Meera
Bai, Durga Bati—there are so many—I cannot remember
all their names. We are reared on mother’s milk—there¬
fore, nothing can be more educative and elevating than
what instruction and guidance we get from the mother.
If the mother tells her child ‘Be satisfied with your¬
self,’-—what can one say? The child must then be the un¬
fortunate one. And you must take it that in this sinful
age, good men will never appear. You have to presume
that nothing is left of India’s heritage ! And there is no
hope for the future ! Nothing is left then but remorse !
If that be so, if no hope is left of a recovery—if all that
one can do is to sit and watch this degradation and misery,
-—then, what is all this trouble about ? If I cannot achieve
anything more in this life, why live ?
I pray I may continue all my life in the service of
others. I hope all are well there. All is well here. Please
accept my pronams. Please do reply to this letter.
Yours ever affectionately
Subhas

(8)

THE DIVINE MOTHER BE WITH US

Ranchi
Sunday
Revered mother,
I received your letter quite some time ago and I had
also written a reply. But on looking through my letter I
found that while in an emotional mood I had written many
silly things. So I did not feel like sending it and I tore it
up. It is my nature that I cannot restrain myself while
writing letters—my heart gets the better of me. I dislike
writing and reading letters on the worldly things of life-—
this explains my attitude—I want letters full of ideas. I
 LETTERS 1912-1921 145

do not write when I do not feel like it. When I feel so in¬
clined, I write letter after letter.
I do not always consider it necessary to write about
physical well-being. If one has faith in God, worry, anxiety
and fear keep away. What, after all, can one do even
when misfortune befalls us ? We have no such power that
we can heal anybody as we may wish to. Why then must
we worry ? She—in whose keeping we all are—will pro¬
tect us. When the Mother of the three realms is there
to save us, what is there to fear or worry about ? Lack
of faith is at the root of all unhappiness and misfortune.
But man fails to realise this. He thinks he can cure any¬
one if he so wishes. What ignorance! Uncle went down
to Calcutta eight or nine days ago and he is keeping well.
He is very fond of coconut water. And, in his present
state of health it is very good for him. If you could get
some coconuts down to Calcutta and sent them to him,
you would be doing him a lot of good. He asked me to
mention this to you.
All is well here. I am happy to know that you are all
keeping well. When will Mejdada return ?
Our examination results will probably be out by the
middle of May. I do not know what the truth is, but I
have heard that many have even come to know their
marks.
Are you expecting Sejdidi and her family ?
I am all the time tormented by the thought that I have
already wasted so much of this precious but brief life. At
times, it becomes intolerable.
Having been born as a man, if I fail to achieve the
purpose of human existence, if I fail to fulfil its destiny,—
what is the meaning of it all ? As all rivers ultimately
find their way to the sea, so do all human lives reach their
finality in God. If one cannot realise God, his life is in
vain—all ritual, worship and contemplation are in vain—
they are nothing but hypocrisy. I no longer feel like
wasting time in empty talk. I would rather shut myself
up in a room and devote myself day and night to contem¬
plation, thinking and study. Every day brings us nearer
146 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

to Death—when is the time for us to strive for Him and

achieve Him and earn eternal peace and rest ? Till we
have realised Him—the fountainhead of all happiness—
there can be no happiness. How men can at all be content
with wealth and property is something that often baffles
me. Without Him—the repository of all happiness—there
can be no bliss. One must reach Him—the source of all
joy—only then can one achieve contentment.
Without realisation and divine revelation, life is in
vain. Worship, meditation, prayer, contemplation, etc. that
man engages in, have only one aim—realisation of the
Divine. If this purpose is not fulfilled, all this is in vain.
One who has tasted this heavenly bliss once, will never
turn to the sinful material world.
He has sought to lead us into temptation with the
material things of the world and reduced us to mere victims
of Maya. The mother, as it were, is busy with her house¬
hold and the child with his playthings—unless the child
cries out to her with all his heart leaving all his toys be¬
hind, the mother does not come to him. Assuming that
the child is at play, the mother feels no necessity to come
to him. But when the child’s wailing reaches her, she
rushes to his side. The Mother of the Universe is play¬
ing the game with us. One cannot reach God unless his
dedication is hundred per cent. If God could be realised
with only fractional attention, why do such people who are
steeped in worldly pleasures fail to achieve Him ? With¬
out Him, all is empty, absolutely empty,—life is a farce
and an intolerable burden.
What do you say ?
If I cannot reach Him, where shall my life belong—
with what shall I occupy myself—with whom shall I com¬
municate—where shall I seek happiness ?
He epitomises all beings—He has to be achieved and
realised.
He can be attained only through Sadhana, deep medi¬
tation and intense prayer; only thus can He be realised
quite speedily—even within the space of two or three years.
One must persevere—success or failure is His Will. I must
 LETTERS 1912-1921 147

go on working—the ultimate result is in His hands—

whether I succeed or I do not is His concern—we must
continue and go on trying. One who has realised Him
once has no need to strive or pray any more. I hope all
of you are well. Please accept my pronams.
Your devoted son
Subhas

(9)
Ranchi
Monday (1913)
Revered mother,
I was delighted to receive your letter yesterday. We
had to extend our stay here so long on account of aunt’s
illness. She is better now—and the weather has also
cleared. We shall be leaving here tomorrow and arrive in
Calcutta early in the morning day after tomorrow.
We are all keeping well.
I had expected long before the examination and was
almost certain that I would get a scholarship of Rs. 20/-.
This was because I had wished it with all my heart—I
had wished it not for my own sake because, after all, what
need have I of money ? I abhor money, as money is at
the root of all evil. My wish was not in my personal in¬
terest—I had resolved not to spend a penny out of my
scholarship on myself but to spend the whole of it for the
good of others. And I hope I shall stick to my resolution.
But I fail to see how I could secure such a high position.
I had studied very little indeed prior to the examination,—
and for quite some time I was paying inadequate attention
to studies. I know it for certain that I do not deserve this
position—I had expected to come seventh. If I can secure
such a position without studying enough, what will become
of those to whom nothing is higher than studies and who
would even stake their lives on the pursuit of studies !
But then,—whatever I come first or I come last,—I have
come to realise that pursuit of studies is not the highest
goal of the student; students feel that by securing a stamp
148 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

from the University they achieve their mission—but if one

fails to acquire real knowledge in spite of obtaining this
stamp from the University,—I say I hate this sort of edu¬
cation. Is it not more desirable to remain uneducated ? To
build his character is the student’s primary duty-—University
education helps in building character—and we can tell
one’s character from what work he does. Work reveals
character. I detest bookish knowledge with all my heart.
I want character—wisdom—work. Character is all-inclu¬
sive, it includes devotion to God, love of country—the
yearning to reach Him. Bookish knowledge is a worthless
commodity of very little significance—but, alas ! so many
people brag so much about it.
There are certain advantages of studying in Calcutta
and there are others of studying at Cuttack. I have not
been able to make up my mind as to where to study—I
shall decide on my return to Calcutta. But I think I should
not be at the Presidency College because there are no
facilities there for studying the subjects I want to take up.
With my pronams,
Your devoted son
Subhas

The following four letters were written by Netaji to his eldei

brother Sarat Chandra Bose. Netaji was at the time 15 years
old and he wrote them in English. The first letter was written
when his brother was preparing to sail for England to qualify
for the Bar and the other three when he was studying there.
Netaji also wrote a number of very important letters to his
brother in 1920-21 in connection with his resignation from the
Indian Civil Service.—Ed.

(10)
Cuttack
The 22nd Aug, 1912.

My dear brother,
It is not without some reluctance that I am writing
this letter as you are now very busy and anxious about your
departure. But thinking that this will be the very last
letter that you will receive from me while you are in India,
 LETTERS 1912-1921 149

I venture to take my pen in hand.

In writing this, I have but one object—to make one
request—that you will delight and instruct me by the des¬
criptions of the various things you see on your journey to
England and you will let me have a share of mind regard¬
ing how you feel among strange and foreign associations.
When your ship leaves the port of Bombay and moves
farther and farther away from the shore—when you lose
the last glimpse of the green vegetation and see the last
blue line of your native land fade away like a cloud in
the horizon and turn round to see the surging waves and
the roaring billows with the ship cutting her way through
them—the azure sky above, the monotonous deep below—
will these elements of nature bring into your mind any
strange feeling ? Will they remind you of these lines of
Irving—‘It seemed as if I had closed one volume of the
world and its contents and had time for meditation till I
opened another’ or will they make you repeat some lines
of the same author—‘It makes us conscious of being cast
loose from the secure anchorage of settled life and sent
adrift upon a doubtful world.’ Surely anybody would
choose the former rather than the latter.
You will have to pass some days, I think, before you
come in sight of land again and that will be near Aden.
How will you feel when land greets your eyes again after
a short adieu ?
In the sea, you can have a full and clear view of the
sunset. It is indeed a glorious spectacle and those who
have never been to sea envy the sight very much—it is
so very beautiful ! Will you not delight me with a brief
description of a sunset at sea ? What a beauty ! That
dazzling flood of ebbing light lighting up the entire expanse
of the sea and playing up and down with the undulating
waves ! The Western horizon all rose-red in the rays of
the setting sun ! And the next moment you see the shades
of evening stealing across the sky and in less than half
an hour—the whole atmosphere enveloped in darkness—
pierced here and there by the faint streaks of some pallid
heavenly bodies ! It is so very beautiful and so enchant-
 150 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

ing to the eyes and the soul!

Then after a monotonous sea-voyage lasting for a fort¬
night you are launched into the noise and tumult of another
world—among an alien race and among fair skins and blue
eyes. Will not these strange surroundings compare palpably
with your former surroundings ? Of course this will soon
wear away in a day or two.
I hardly know what I have written. I have scrawled
at random like a madman. But I hope I shall not be dis¬
appointed in my expectations. If it be not improper for
the younger to say so, I ardently hope and wish, God-speed
and comfort will attend your journey. We are well.
With love and due regards,

I am
Your very affectionately,
Subhas

(11)

Cuttack
17.9.12

My dear brother,
I hope you have received my letter addressed to London
by this time. I wrote a letter to you while you were in
Calcutta but I could not get any assurance as to whether the
letter reached you. I went through your letter to mother
from Aden and from that I learnt to my great delight that
it did reach you. When I wrote it, I never for a moment
thought that it would give you any satisfaction but I was so
glad to learn that it gave you pleasure to read it. This is
due to the fact that what I wrote came from my heart. The
heart always appeals to the heart and so it was the case. The
thoughts that come direct from the heart are far more
effective than those that do not come from the heart even
if the former be clothed in a simple and graceful style
while the latter are gaudily attired in an ornate style. I do
 LETTERS 1912-1921 151

not know why I wrote it—I cannot recall ahything. I was

suddenly overpowered with emotion and I instantly took
my pen in hand. I do not know what or why I wrote—I
simply gave utterance to the thoughts that were then
uppermost in my breast. Perhaps it was the dead stillness
of the night, for it was then close upon midnight, that
contributed to the rearing up of such weird feelings. I
believe everybody experienced such feelings and especially
those who attended the parting ceremony, and more violently
too—for it was such a critical moment and it would have
been too much for me. But, no, I must not talk of the past
and give your feelings an unpleasant shaking.
You will there perhaps hear and read a good deal about
the Bengali poet and venerable sage, Rabindra Nath Tagore.
We feel so proud to read of him and the high honour shown
to him by an alien people that for the time we become
optimistic about the future of Bengal and of India. I am
almost stung with self-reproach when I think how indifferent
Bengal has been in showering laurels upon him and has
suffered his genius, super-human though it is, to lie in the
shade of neglect, whereas a foreign people, speaking an
alien tongue and cherishing ideas and sentiments, diametri¬
cally opposed to ours in some cases, have lifted him up
from this shade to sunshine and have extolled him as the
greatest poet the world has produced. What a strange
people we are ! We have so little of reverence in us. So the
poet has sung :
‘Let knowledge grow from more to more
But more of reverence in us dwell’.
I hope a time will come when I shall be able to appreciate
the poems of Rabi Tagore.
Have you met any of your old friends and Mr. Biren
Bose among the number ?
Englishmen speak very highly of the natural scenery
of their motherland. Is it really so ? I think you are in a
position to draw a comparison between the sceneries of
India and England.
We are pretty well here. Hope this will find you in the
best of health.
152 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

With due regards and pronams,

I remain
Yours v. affly.
Subhas

(12)

Cuttack,
11.10.12
8 P.M.
My dear brother,
Your voluminous letter was to hand only this evening.
I do not know how I am to express my sincere gratitude
for the extreme trouble you have taken for the gratification
of a childish request of mine. Language fails ; for it half
expresses and half conceals thoughts. I wish man could
make it more perfect, it fails so short of expression. I cannot
express to you how heartily I enjoyed your descriptions—
vivid and appealing as they are. The scenes you have
described seem to dance before my inward vision and seem
to be living and real—and not only that—they call up other
scenes that my eyes once took in and which were lying
dormant for want of recollection and inspiration. The
beautiful scenes of fair Darjeeling are now coming back to
me—one by one—like the films of a bioscope—the sea, the
blue, blue sea at Puri is dashing with fury against the sandy
shores—the blue waters, flecked here and there with
touches of white, stretching out to meet the blue sky in the
horizon are now before me—the bare, rocky and barren
hills of Naraj rising up to a noble height on the banks of
the lordly and majestic Mahanady—the historic caves of
Udaigiri and Khandagiri at Bhuvaneswar—these are all that
I have seen—are now playing their part in the stage of
my mind. Here I have before me a picture of ‘Happy
Snowdon’—it is such a beautiful thing. The playful and
transient colours of the sky are casting their reflection on
the snowy peaks—the icy lakes below are all catching a
 LETTERS 1912-1921 153

reflection of the glorious colours—the snow-covered rocks

are tinged with bright red—the whole scene seems to be
a picture of Hemkut Parbat of Hindu mythology or of
Olympus, the abode of the gods of Greece.
I do not know what I am writing all this nonsense for
and detaining you for nothing but something within urges
me to go on. I do not know—this may be tiresome to you.
About a fortnight ago you sent mother a packet of the
choicest picture post-cards. You have made a nice selection,
a combination of such beautiful post-cards is one of rare
choice. When asked by mother to choose the best, I replied
that all of them were above comparison and superb. The
pictures are so fine and, of course, exaggerate the beauty
so much that it seems to make a Heaven of Hell. Though
they are not faithful they are charming. We enjoyed the
pictures heartily and I have kept some with me.
The descriptions you have given are so vivid that had
1 known something of drawing I would have attempted to
represent them—only to make the impressions more deep
and to satisfy my mind. But ignorant as I am of that art
I must rest content with merely picturing them in my mind.
I can well imagine the state of your mind when you
were between Bombay and Suez, tired of the monotony of
the blue sea and the azure sky and longing to catch a
glimpse of living nature. I do not like to stay in Calcutta for
more than a month at a stretch, for I long to feast my eyes
on the fresh beauty and the smiling appearances of nature.
Without nature to soothe one’s soul and to inspire him in
his moments of weakness, man, I think, cannot lead a happy
life. Without nature as one’s companion and instructor life
is no better than banishment in a desert—life loses all its
freshness and activity and the sunny side of life grows
•gloomy.
I cannot do more than thank you over and over again
for the trouble you have taken for me and for your
exquisitely beautiful descriptions.
I hope you have by this time received the letters I
wrote to you at London.
154 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

16.10.12

Today is the mail-day and I must post my letter. Last

Monday I received a letter from you. I am glad to learn
therein that you are putting up quite close to Captain and
Mrs. Webb and that you meet them often.
When does the sun rise and set in London now ? Is the
parliament in session now ? Have you experienced London’s
fog as yet—now that winter has come ?
Glad to learn that you have met your old friend ‘Sudhir
Roy’.
Did you halt at Paris on your way to London from
Marseilles ?
I have already asked you to spare yourself the trouble
of writing to me separately whenever you are busy. May
I repeat it—you have so many letters to write and so limited
a time at your disposal.
I am sending your ‘long letter’ to Mejojamai Babu and
shall ask him to send it to Sejajamai Babu after perusal.
But I shall have it back again.
School is closed and we are enjoying a pretty long
vacation till Nov. 11th. Nadu, Rangamamababu and myself
shall be here during the vacation. The rest are in Calcutta
now. Nadada has come down here. Father and mother are
doing well there.
I think this will find mother’s letter as its companion
in the G.P.O. in Calcutta. Please accept our Bijaya pronams
though it is late. With due regards, I am
Yours v. affly.
Subhas

(13)
Cuttack
8.1.13.
My dear brother,
Another year has roiled by and we find ourselves
responsible to God for the progress or otherwise that we
have made during the last twelve months.
When I survey my last year’s work, I cannot help
 LETTERS 1912-1921 155

reflecting on the goal of life. Tennyson, I think, is a staunch

optimist and strongly believes that the world is progressing
day by day. Is it really so ? Are we really nearing our
longed for goal ? Is our dear country, India, on the high-road
to progress ? I can’t think so. May be, good may come out
of evil—may be India is wading through sin and corruption
towards peace and progress. But as far as the eye of
prudence, prophecy or foresightedness can behold, all is
darkness—dense darkness with here and there a faint ray
of hope to cheer up the earnest worker or the high-
souled patriot. Sometimes the rays seem to brighten up
—sometimes the gloom seems to darken. The future
history of India is like the condition of the gloomy
sky, during a storm. England and of course the whole
of Europe may be progressing. The star of religion is
rising in the sky of Europe but it is steadily declining in
the sky of India. What was India and what is she now ? What
a terrible change ! Where are those saints, those sages,
those philosophers—our forefathers who had explored the
farthest limits of the realm of knowledge ? Where is their
fiery personality ? Where is their strict Brahmacharya ?
Where is their realization of God ? Where is their unification
with the supreme soul, of which we now simply talk of. All
is gone ! Hushed is their vedic strain ! No more are the
songs of the Sama Veda to be heard resounding on the banks
of the sacred Ganges ! But there is hope yet—I think there
is hope yet—the angel of hope has appeared in our midst
to put fire in our souls and to shake off our dull sloth. It
is the saintly Vivekananda. There stands he, with his angelic
appearance, his large and piercing eyes and his sacred dress
to preach to the whole world, the sacred truths lying
embedded in Hinduism ! The evening star is up—the moon
of course must come. A brighter future is India’s destiny.
God is ever good. Through sin, irreligiousness, corruption
and every other vice He is leading us towards our only
goal. He is the magnet round which all things revolve and to
which all creation inevitably moves. We must move—the road
may be dangerous and stony—the journey may be a laboured
one, but we must march. We must ultimately lose ourselves
156 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

in Him. The day may be far off—but it must come. That is

the only hope I now cherish—otherwise everything is dis¬
appointing and disheartening to me.
Don’t we feel that He is pulling us towards Him with
magnetic force—I think we do. Has He not spread nature’s
charms around us only to remind us of His existence ? Has
he not bidden the stars to speak for Him and the infinite
sky to teach man that He is infinite ? Has He not instilled
love in our hearts, to remind us of the love He bears towards
us ? Alas ! He is so good—and we, so naughty.
Dear brother, I don’t know why I feel inclined to scribble
in this fashion. I have marked that at certain intervals,
I feel tempted to disburden my heart. Perhaps, this is one
of those strange moments.
I was very glad to receive your letter by the last mail.
I was feeling all these days that distance had distanced you
from me but this sacred messenger more than made up
for this feeling of absence.
We like to keep a memorial of our late Asst. Head¬
master (Now Headmaster, Sambalpur Zillah School) Babu
Suresh Ch. Gupta in our school. We would like very much
to have a life-size bust direct from England. If it costs a
pound, it is certainly very cheap. How much do you think
will be the freight ? Will Rs. 35 or 40 be sufficient for getting
it from England direct ?
We are having our Test Exam, now and we are faring
quite well. We are doing pretty well here. Hope you are in
the best of health.
With pronams to you,
I am,
Ever affiy. yours,
Subhas

The following thirty-one letters were written by Netaii to Hemanta

Kumar Sarkar, a friend of younger days, during 1914-1919.
They have been translated from the Bengali. English expressions
used in the original letters have been retained. The first letter
deals with the circumstances of his return home after his wander¬
ings in search of a Guru to which Netaji has referred in his
autobiography—Ed.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 157

(14)
Thursday
Afternoon
19-6-14

I got off the street car, braced myself up and entered

home. I met Satyen Mama and another acquaintance in the
front room. They were rather surprised. I met Pishamaha-
saya and Dada inside the house. Mother was informed. Half
way up I met her. I made pronams to her—she could not
help weeping on seeing me. Later, she only said, ‘It seems
you have come into this world to kill me. I would not have
waited so long before drowning myself in the Ganges ; only
for the sake of my daughters have I not done so.’ I smiled
within myself. Then I met father. After I had made my
pronams, he embraced me and led me to his room. On the
way he broke down and in the room he wept for quite some
time holding on to me. When he was weeping with myself
in his arms, I could not help feeling that although I had
tried to forget everything else for that youthful face, innocent
as the full moon,—I had not been able to do so with all my
being. Then he lay down and I massaged his feet—it appeared
as if he was feeling some heavenly pleasure. Thereafter
both of them went on enquiring at length where I had
been. I told them everything frankly—I mentioned about
the money. They had come to know about Haripada ; it
was not necessary to tell them about you and so I did not
say anything. Mama asked me and so I told him. But that
matters little. They only asked me why I had not written
at all.
Telegrams were sent to and enquiries made at vairous
places. Mother was active. Father was passive, his attitude
being that things would take care of themselves. The matter
was not reported to the police—a relative who happened
to be a police officer having advised against it. Mother was
almost mad at the thought that I had left home for good.
So, another Mama (America-returned) went out in search
of me ; he wrote a letter after making exhaustive enquiries
at Baidyanath and Deoghar which reached here today ; I
158 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

know its purport. He went to Balananda. Another Brahma-

chari told him, ‘If he has gone out unprepared, he will get
a hard knock and return; if it is the contrary, it is useless
to try to get him back.’
Enquiries were made at Belur, a wire was sent to the
Ramakrishna Mission at Hardwar—-the reply was negative.
An astrologer of Howrah was approached. He said that I
would return in nineteen or twenty days, that I was well
and not alone but had two companions and further that
I was somewhere in the North-West the name of the place
starting with ‘B’. I think I was then at Benares. He added
that I would not become a Sannyasi owing to some contrary
influence but would return to the world. He may go to
Hell ! He knows nothing at all. Of all people, Ranen Mama's
attitude is most favourable. Satyen advised me to be most
obedient—as if that is his life’s ideal. The rest did not say
very much.
There is a gentleman I have known for some time.
He is quite reasonable. He said that I should boldly discuss
matters, talk the matter over and then be a Sannyasi. Who
after all, he asked, could stand in my way ?
I had long talks with father again in the afternoon.
They related to various views of life, meeting Sannyasis
and about my wanderings. I told him I did not like any¬
body. I also told him immediately what my ideal was. What
he wanted to drive at during the discussion was : (1)
whether it was possible to practise Dharma while leading
a worldly life, (2) that renunciation needs preparation,
(3) whether it was right to shirk one’s duty. I said in reply—
(1) Everybody cannot have the same medicine because
everybody has not got the same disease and the same
capacity—(2) Whether or not renunciation is possible
depends on how much cleansing one needs—all may not
require much in the way of polishing up—(3) Duty is
relative—higher call may completely supersede lower calls
when Knowledge comes, action becomes redundant.
He asked me if indivisibility of the Divine Spirit, that
is to say that ‘the Spirit alone is true, the world is all false’,
was not a mere theory. I said that so long as it was a mere
 LETTERS 1912-1921 159

platitude it was a theory, but it becomes true when it is

realised and that such realisation was possible. Those who
said so realised its truth and have also said that we could
realise it. He asked, ‘Who were able to do it and what is the
proof ?’ I answered that the Rishis achieved it and then
quoted the Sloka beginning with ‘Vedahamiti.’ He then said
that once upon a time Maharshi Devendra Nath, Keshab
Chandra and Paramhansa were in Calcutta—and people
were able to achieve what they were capable of. I said that
Vivekananda’s ideal was my ideal.
He said at the end, ‘When your higher call comes,
we shall see.’ I have so far not opposed father actively—
passively I have won the victory. Now he is unable to force
anything upon me. And, when I go away next time, he will
probably give up the idea and the effort to get me back.
However, I now see that I have done well in coming
back.
Mother is a fanatic and says that next time I go, she
will also leave with me and not return home again. I think
I will not be able to understand her. I find father very
reasonable.
I am quite well. Please let me know how you are.
Yours—
All have a very good impression of Beni Babu and they
respect him. Beni Babu did not say much. He mentioned the
Sannyasi but did not mix you up at all in my austere
activities. The man in him revealed himself again in this
matter.

(15)
21-6-14.
I have become so callous. I really do not know why I
have turned so stone-hearted. I do not feel at all for my
parents—they wept and I could not help smiling. It is true
there is no love in my heart—if there was any, I would
give it to you unreservedly. I had a talk with father today.
He gave me three nieces of advice and said that when I
regained my sanity, he would discuss other things with
me. He is trying to make me adopt the worldly way of
160 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

life. I did not say anything today—I maintained passive

silence implying non-submission. Later on I might, if I feel
so inclined, talk to him more frankly. It is not possible to
reason with mother—she is displeased with me—she thinks
I do not care for her in the least....
People generally take maternal love to be the deepest and
the most selfless and say that a mother’s love is immeasur¬
able. But, my dear friend, I do not rate maternal love so
highly. Beni Babu has probably not experienced any other
love in his life and that explains his view. Is a mother’s
love really completely selfless ? I do not know; nevertheless,
so long as a mother cannot accept any other boy from the
street equally as her own son, can her love be called
selfless ? Her attachment is born of having reared her
child herself....
But compared to the love I have tasted in this life,
the ocean of love I find myself in, mother’s love is like a
puddle. In this self-centred world, man’s only refuge is
mother’s love and that is why they raise it so high. For one
you have brought up yourself you may well develop affec¬
tion—is there much credit in that ? But, somebody who
can give a man from the street the highest place in his
heart—how big is his heart—how sublime is his love !
People will refuse to understand this.
Do I have it all wrong ?

(16)

38/2, Elgin Road

Calcutta
18/7/14.
Saturday 11 a.m.

I just received your letter. I probably forgot to mention

in my letter yesterday that parents and others were reaching
Calcutta on Monday. You better come again—because later
when the house fills up, I do not quite know if it will be
convenient or not for us to meet. Please come on Sunday
any time you like. He is always present. Even if He is not
 LETTERS 1912-1921 161

physically close to me, I can always feel His invisible

presence and His good wishes are all the time leading me
along the right path.
One may also serve through the Soul and through love
that is not outwardly evident. What pleasure it gives me
to think that you are doing your work ! Incidentally, did
you miss your supper day before yesterday ? You must
not be too hard on yourself; your penance will not be in
the usual form—it is all His will, His love and His work—
what more can I write—you can well understand what I
mean. I am quite well. Yesterday morning the minimum
temperature was 97° and in the evening the maximum
was 100.2°; today the minimum was 97.4°. I am well and
you need not worry. We shall talk when we meet. On
Sunday you may stay from morning till afternoon or evening
—who dares interfere ? It will be better if you come alone.

(17)
Calcutta
Friday Evening
3/10/14

The greatest gift is to give one’s heart away. When

this is done, there is nothing else left to give away. Is not
the one who receives this gift also the most fortunate ? Is
there anybody more fortunate or happier than he ? But
who is more—than one who cannot reciprocate this gift ?
What is the result ? The result is peace for both.
* * *

A vision rises before my eyes. It is the Kali temple at

Dakshineshwar. In front of me I see Kali the Mother, sabre
in hand, a picture of happiness—poised on the seat of
Shiva, with lotuses all around her. Facing her is a boy—
more childlike than his age—sobbing and appealing to
somebody in his yet indistinct words : ‘O Mother, accept
my offering, what is good as well as what is bad, what is
sinful as well as what is virtuous’. The fierce and fiery
Mother is not satisfied so easily—She wants to devour
everything, so She must have the good as well as the bad.
162 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

the virtues as well as the vices. The boy must give up

everything. He cannot have peace otherwise and the Mother
will not let him go.
* * *

It is most painful. Mother must have everything. She

is not satisfied at all. So he is weeping and repeating, ‘Take
all, Mother, take all’. Gradually, the flow of tears stopped,—
his cheeks and breast dried up—peace came back to his
heart. His heart was now empty—no trace of the great pain
was left—and everything became peaceful. His heart was
all sweetness now and he rose. He had nothing to call his
own any more—he had given everything away. The boy
is Ramakrishna.

(18)

27-3-15

I shall be going with father towards the end of April.

The house of the Maharaja of Burdwan has been fixed up
for us. I shall feel most uncomfortable in the midst of
luxury and domestic limitations but I shall stick it out.
While there I shall occupy myself with extensive study.
My studies will be in four parts:
(1) Study of man and his history
(2) General study of the Sciences—first principles
(2) The problem of Truth—the goal of human progress,
that is, philosophy
(4) The greatness of the world.
Besides these, I propose to go through all my college
books once. I feel very enthusiastic about studies now. I
find things are now completely reversed. The examina¬
tions are over and my interest in studies grows ! I now
feel like devouring all the books.
I wish to take Honours in Philosophy in my B.A. and
come out first. I am unable to decide now if I should take
up Sanskrit or Economics thereafter—you cannot live in
this modern world without some knowledge of Economics.
Sanskrit one can study by himself. Now the question is
 LETTERS 1912-1921 163

whether the economics that is taught in the college is of

much use in the practical field. However, I shall make my
mind up soon. If you are well, I shall go to Germany. In
order to decide upon our duties in the future and how
we shall proceed step by step, it is necessary that we meet
once.
If considerations of health warrant it, I shall not study
in Calcutta. The advantage of studying in Calcutta is that
there are good professors here. The advantage of studying
in Cuttack is that the climate there is better; there are
better opportunities of work there because of the consider¬
able influence we command among the public; this will be
so at least as long as father is alive. If necessary, I can
study in Cuttack or Hazaribagh. I have written to Hazari-
bagh for the prospectus. After my return from Kurseong
I shall, if need be, discontinue my studies in Calcutta. If
it comes to that, you will have to repay my loans to you,—
initially you may give me small sums, because there will
not be any more tuition work. And I have to give some
to Dutta Gupta also.

(19)

Cuttack
Saturday
3-4-15

You have probably received my last two letters. Impor¬

tant events took place yesterday and the day before. It is not
possible to write everything openly just at present. Besides,
Girish and Sureshda have particularly requested me to tell
you about it some time later. I shall be in Calcutta within
a month—I shall see you then and let you know the whole
thing. There has been a most wonderful reconciliation—
Girishda was some sort of a mediator. Sureshda said that
he thought the relationship to be undesirable but not
unhealthy. He said further that he was never in the least
doubtful as regards purity, but he was quite pained to
receive complaints from all the rest about our exclusive-
164 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

ness. He told me also how a sense of remorse grew in him

day by day on account of our behaviour. I said whatever I
had to say. I am most impressed by Girishda’s faith and
his character. He added that if the East Bengali had nursed
any suspicions in his mind, he would call him a liar to his
face. However, all’s well that ends well and let us close
that chapter. We committed one mistake (and we have to
be very careful about this in future) and that is, we failed
to realise that each word or action on our part carried so
much weight. What a profound effect they had on our
brothers.
Sureshda told me that we must mix with the public on
equal terms, so that nobody gets to know how much a
particular person loves another.

(20)

18-7-15

Well, is it possible for man to realise Absolute Truth?

Everybody takes one relative truth to be the absolute in
his life and then uses that as the yardstick to judge good and
evil, happiness and sorrow of this life. Nobody has really
the right to interfere in anybody else’s individual philosophy
of life or to speak against it, but the fact remains that the
basis of that philosophy has got to be sincere and true, as
Spencer’s theory is—‘he is free to think and act so long
as he does not infringe the equal freedom of any other
individual’.
* * *

Intellectual preparation is necessary in the first instance.

Then, thinking and work will go on simultaneously. Ulti¬
mately one has to lose himself completely in work. Initially,
one must have some make-shift activities so as not to lose
the capacity to work.
Look, there are two sides to a life—intellect and
character. It is not enough to offer only character to your
country—you must be able to produce an intellectual ideal.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 165

It will not do to know something of everything but to

organise them into a systematic whole—and to know
everything of something. Simple assimilation will not do—
but creative genius is necessary.
I shall give you an inkling of my intellectual career.
Only a vague outline of it has formed in my mind. The
idea is indeed grand—I do not know if I can translate it into
reality in my own life. Even if that does not happen,—if
the idea is really good, somebody else may be able to
fulfil it.
* * *

(21)

27-7-15

I have not got anything special to do at present,—

except working for the Famine Relief Fund. For the time
being, all else remains suspended.

(22)

29-7-15

I am not doing anything special at the moment. Poor

fund—debating—magazine have not started as yet. Since
a week ago I have stopped coaching. It affects your own
studies. But I shall remain an auxiliary—I shall teach if I
am in want and it is necessary. They have made me the
Secretary of the College Famine Fund. I must work for
it to a certain extent. There is no one else available.
I should like to go out to do relief work—one can thus
gain practical experience. And, experience of famine is
something that you cannot have all the time. My emotions
want me to go—in fact I am eager to go—but reasoning is
bidding me not to—
(1) I may lose my health, because I cannot help
exerting myself to the utmost.
(2) Work of the College Relief Committee will suffer.
166 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

(3) If I go I should go on behalf of the College orga¬

nisation—as I am in it.
I have told them I shall give them an answer after due
deliberation. Most probably my answer will be in the
negative. Will you please let me have your opinion ?
Nevertheless, I greatly desire to see the world as it
actually is. I must however suppress the desire.

(23)

38/2, Elgin Road, Calcutta

31-8-15

In my article I have expressed my attitude in an

indirect manner—I have described it as supreme and
sublime indifference. I am realising more and more as time
passes that I have a definite mission to fulfil in life and for
which I have been born, and I am not to drift in the current
of popular opinion. It is the law of this world and people
will criticise but my sublime self-consciousness will enable
me not to be influenced by them. If the treatment I recieve
in this world brings about a change in my attitude, that is,
makes me unhappy and despondent, I have to assume that
it is all due to my own weakness. But, as one who is aiming
to reach out to the skies is oblivious of hills or wells on
the way, so also is one whose mind is directed towards his
mission to the exclusion of everything else, completely
unconcerned by other things. I must move about with the
proud self-consciousness of one imbued with an idea.
Well, I now understand that to be a man in the real
sense there are three prerequisites :

(1) Embodiment of the past

(2) Product of the present
(3) Prophet of the future

(1) I must assimilate the past history, in fact all the

past civilisation of the world.
(2) I must study myself—studv the world around me
 LETTERS 1912-1921 167

—both India and abroad and for this foreign travels are
necessary.
(3) I must be the prophet of the future. I must discover
the laws of progress—the tendency of both the civilisations
and therefrom settle the future goal and progress of mankind.
The philosophy of life will alone help me in this.
(4) This ideal must be realised through a nation—
begin with India.
Is not this a grand idea ?
* * *

The more we lift our eyes heavenwards the more we

shall forget all that was bitter in the past. The future will
dawn upon us in all its glory.
Why have you not written about your health ? Please
reply soon and let me know how you are.
I have plenty to talk to you about. When shall we meet?

(24)
16-9-15

Your letter is to hand.

Many people ask : when philosophy cannot lead you to
any conclusion and is ever-growing—one man lays down
certain theories, another comes, goes beyond his predecessor
and puts forward bigger ideas ; when such is the way of
philosophy, why go in for philosophy and the philosophic
way of life ? When Hegel’s philosophy was first preached
in this world, all people thought as if his was the last word—
as if that was the final conclusion. But the world is unfortun¬
ate. The march of philosophy has now left Hegel behind.
Nevertheless, if you have to live, you must face such
questions. Just as fragrance is the inevitable accompaniment
of a blooming flower (there is nothing to question about
it) so also are such searching questions inevitable in life.
What is the good of studying philosophy ? It is this—
that you come to know your own questions, your own
doubts. ... You come to know how so many others have
thought about them. You may then organise and properly
direct your line of thinking.
168 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

Nobody who is not eccentric can attain greatness. But,

all eccentric people do not become great men. All mad men
do not become great men of genius. Why ? Only madness
does not suffice. Something more is necessary. You cannot
arrive at solutions to your questions if eccentricity robs you
of self-control. One must remain calm even in the midst
of emotion. Then and only then can you build your life on
a constructive basis. One must control his emotions and
think deeply. Without emotion, thinking is impossible. But
with nothing but emotion, thinking cannot be fruitful. Many
are quite emotional but do not want to think—many others
do not know how to think.
* * *

.... Once you have come to know the technique of

thinking, there is nothing to fear—to reach a conclusion
will still be difficult but not impossible. That is why I believe
that my yearning, questions, doubts, will not end in nothing
but will bring me something positive. You may now have
the same expectation.
If there is an ideal, it can be realised—this is my faith.
For example, if perfection be the ideal, man can become
perfect, otherwise there is no such ideal as perfection.
Any way, whatever the ideal may be—it can be realised
—this is the basis of my life-philosophy.
One must not be impatient. How can we find an answer
to a question in a day, in search of which so many people
have laid down their lives !....
* * *

But, then, unless I can find a fundamental principle on

which to build my life, with what do I go forward ?
Do you know what Kant*s philosophy is like ? It
assumes something to be true, analyses it and criticises it
ruthlessly and then gives it up. And having given it up, it
arrives at a higher truth. Then, once again, the latter is
analysed and criticised in the same manner—and ultimately
you arrive at the highest truth.
Life is like that. By all means build up a philosophy
in order to harmonise all your present activities in life.
Then proceed in accordance with that philosophy. On the
 LETTERS 1912-1921 169

other hand, in the inner recesses of your mind, destroy and

reconstruct it every moment of your life. Life progresses
through continuous construction and destruction. Construct
something, then destroy it, build something else and destroy
it again and so on.
Something cannot come out of nothing. Man proceeds
from Truth to higher Truth. We must pass through inconsis¬
tencies. They fulfil life.
If emotions get the better of you, you lose reason, critical
power, analytic and synthetic power. Because, only in cool
moments can one make proper use of these qualities.

20-9-15
The state of my health is such that I cannot imagine
being able to achieve anything special in life. Vivekananda
was perfectly right when he said : ‘Iron nerves and a well
intelligent brain and the whole world is at your feet’.
If the change helps me to recoup my health completely,
I shall begin to believe again that life is worth living.

(25)

26-9-15

I have just read Lodge. I do not quite understand

why you have asked for my views regarding the Jesuit
movement.
That community in question has both good and bad
sides. What is good will continue to be good for the pre¬
sent age. What is bad is not intrinsically bad—it was all
right for the bygone ages—but is not suited to the needs
of the present age.
What is the reason ? The concept of human ‘freedom’
has changed. In ancient times, by ‘freedom’ people of
India meant spiritual freedom—renunciation—freedom
from lust, greed, etc. But this freedom also included
freedom from political and social bondage. The Sannyasi
could, if he so wished, cut across social and political
barriers with impunity—he could even change rules of
170 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

government. The western world, however, is now engaged

in finding solution to political and social problems. There
has been a rise of individualism among them. They are
seriously considering what should be the relationship of
the individual to society and the ruling class.
This conflict has made an adjustment of mutual rights
necessary. Now we can see that in society and in relation
to the State, every individual has certain rights; he is free
so long as he does not misuse them or violate them. Every¬
body is conscious that he is a human being and has cer¬
tain rights and a voice.
We have been born in this democratic age in a demo¬
cratic atmosphere. So, if you reject this, you cannot get
anywhere in the current age.
But then, individualism may bring harm to the orga¬
nisation. What is the way out ? The answer again is
adjustment. There is a way—there is nothing to fear.
Germany is trying to solve this problem to a certain extent.
In peace time all are enjoying their freedom (the State
has no control over the universities there)—but when the
call comes, all voluntarily renounce their freedom and
present themselves most obediently and ready with their
arms. Such is the law for all co-operative endeavour; or¬
dinarily for transaction of business, everybody has a
voice....
Autocracy results in the dearth of competent men, and
the cause suffers as a result. Naturally and constitu¬
tionally, one who is the superior in knowledge, wisdom,
experience, etc. shall have a bigger voice in the Council
and the rest will pay more attention to him. But they
will follow him and accept his advice for its intrinsic worth
and not because it is coming from him.
If this is the yardstick of judging an organisation, it
is not difficult to criticise the Jesuit community. Now let
us have a look at the similarities :
1. Protestantism—Western civilisation and Western
influence.
2. Counter reformation—Indian renaissance in nation¬
al and spiritual life.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 171

3. Loyola—began as a man of action, ended life as a

religious man.
4. Paris— !
5. Church—religious and country.
6. Chastity—poverty and obedience (absolute).
7. General—the absolute Commander.
8. Relief from ordinary duties of life.
* * *

The history of every community or fraternity is about

the same.
Their motto is on the whole not bad. Chastity and
poverty are obligatory. Then, I have already mentioned
obedience. One must fashion himself and function in ac¬
cordance with the demands of the age. If this is taken
into account, there is much in common between the pre¬
sent and the past ages. It is only natural that this has
attracted your attention.

Tuesday

Your letter reached me yesterday. I am tolerably

well. It is not certain yet where I shall go; most probably
it will be Kurseong. Because father is also thinking of
going there. Father’s health has improved but it will take
him some time to recover. It would be good if he could
give up work, but then the difficulty is how to keep the
family running.
So long. ‘

(26)
26-9-15.

Despondency does sometimes cast its shadow on my

mind but hope returns as naturally as lightening in the sky.
Who can suppress it? That light once again renders life
desirable and I find anew that life is worth living.
172 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

(27)
3-10-15
Saturday

On the one hand one is reminded of the message of

Brahmananda and on the other, of the Western ideal—Life
is activity. On one side there is the silent and peaceful
life of an introspective.. . the Yogi who has realised the
futility of the world; on the other I see the great labora¬
tories of the West, their scientific way of life, their wonder¬
ful inventions, discoveries and knowledge. Then I feel
like going over to their continent and spend ten or twelve
years there in a single-minded pursuit of knowledge; after
all, only one who has earned something is in a position to
give. I have the desire also to take a plunge for once into
their life of activity and then see if, instead of being merely
carried along by the current, I can direct it myself. .. .

(28)
19-10-15

Mr. Sentimentalist,
Your letter reached my hands yesterday. I now weigh
one maund and twenty-one and a half seers. I am rather
surprised at this, because at Cuttack my weight was one
maund and sixteen and a half seers. Any way, if I am
here for a month I expect to gain another five seers.
Since coming here I have been well from all points
of view. That is why I like the hills so much. Occasionally
rains bother you a little—otherwise there is no trouble at
all. Bright sunshine and dry fog make ideal weather here.
So far I have not been able to study at all. Let me see if
I can do better hereafter.
* * *

The mountains are most wonderful; I think these slopes

are the most fitting abode of the heroic Aryans. One
should not live in the degenerate plains. Of course, it is
no use just saying this because it cannot be helped. But,
it is much better to have a house in the hills than to build
 LETTERS 1912-1921 173

one on two cottahs of land in Calcutta at a cost of fifty-

thousand rupees. There is no better way of reviving our
Aryan blood than to consume meat and scale mountains.
That pure Aryan blood no longer flows in our veins.
Slavery of ages—so much of adulteration....
As I wander about the hills, I think of this very often.
The sense of power must permeate our entire being. We
again have to leap across mountains—it was only when
the Aryans did such things that they were able to produce
the Vedas.
The Hindu race no longer has that pristine freshness
—that youthful vigour and those unmatched human qua¬
lities. If we want to get them back we must begin from
the land of our birth—the sacred Himalayas. If India has
something priceless, something noble—something to be
proud of—it is the memory of all that is linked up with the
Himalayas. That is why when you are face to face with
the Himalayas, such memories come back to your mind....

Yours
Rationalist

(29)

Hawk's Nest, Kurseong

21-10-15
Thursday
Your letter reached me yesterday.
* * *

You w7ent to the hills with a sick mind; that is why

you were not able to enjoy the trip. You must go once
again when your mind is at peace.
In the hills physical vigour increases very consider¬
ably and one can have perfect peace of mind. In the peace¬
ful solitude of the hills, life can be dreamt away—the misty
veil hanging about the hills is but the dreamy veil of fair
poetry. Was it Pope or somebody else who said :
‘Thus let me live unseen, unknown, etc. etc.
174 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

Thus unlamented let me die, steal from the world and

not a stone tell where I lie.’
You can appreciate the spirit behind these words
when you come to the hills; but one must admit that only
one facet of human life is brought out into the open—while
another side, that is, ceaseless and frantic activity and
movement, which you see in Calcutta, lies dormant. In
Calcutta, my mind is always occupied with some work or
other. The mind is, as it were, forced to work; the serious¬
ness of life—complexity and variety of life become appar¬
ent to you, problems of life weigh heavily on your mind.
But, here, you can afford to be a lotus-eater for a while—
Why should life all labour be ?
* * *

Yours
Rationalist

(30)
26-10-15
* * *

Most of my thinking is related to my own self.

I am amazed to see how so many conflicting desires
and motives influence man in his life. So many desires
come from where one does not know and then, after some
time, they go away. Why and where do such desires come
from—I cannot tell. The first chapter of human life is
completely irrational. We take pride in saying that man
is very rational—but man is more irrational than rational.
Man acts by instinct and sentiment like animals rather
than by reason. I cannot find the cause and meaning of
so many of our actions. How strange !
Today I found the solution of a long-standing question
in my mind. As I sat inside the temple reflecting the
answer came.
* * *

Yours
Western Philosopher
 LETTERS 1912-1921 175

(31)
29-10-15

I have come to know through conversation, the history

of the Jesuits in its broad outline. It is not easy to write
all that in a letter; so, I shall tell you when we meet. They
bitterly complain that they have been given a very inferior
position in modern history, because most of the historians
are Protestants and even the Royalty is the same. Further,
they have not got a place in the history of Philosophy.
In Schwegler’s History of Philosophy, which we read,
medieval philosophy has for the most part been omitted.
I had a mind to learn something of medieval or scho¬
lastic philosophy, in other words, theology. But, when I
learnt that they have to study theology for four years be¬
fore taking the D. D. degree, I did not make the attempt.
Besides, it will not work now because of lack of time.
Jesuits say that whatever philosophy there was in the
Middle Ages was nothing but theology and the Jesuits were
in the forefront of all literary and educational activity.
Education all over Europe was in their charge.
Their doctrine and forms are extremely dogmatic—I
shall tell you about them later. But, from a certain point
of view, their organisation is most attractive. They do not
worship the Founder—and bigotry has not made inroads
into their organisation. Their dogmatism does not vary
quantitatively—it is all defined. One who will not accept
the defined doctrines has no place among them.

Yours
Rationalist

(32)
Vishram Kutir
Kurseong
7-11-15
My dear Poet,
I was sorry to receive your letter as you have showed
me up as a mischievous person. You know very well that
176 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

I have always been a ‘good boy’—am I capable of any

naughtiness ? So, what is the meaning of this accusation
of yours ? Can one who has always been a ‘good boy’
be up to any mischief at any time ? So, I cannot be a
‘naughty boy’ and any mischief on my part is impossible.
I am not at all a thinker, nor a poet; how, then, can
I appreciate the essence of poetry or the sentiments of
lyrics ? Having failed to appreciate the thoughts behind
your perfect, deeply introspective and great poems, I have
merely criticised their outward form. Those who are
devoid of the finer sensibilities and are not connoisseurs
only see the ant-hill around Valmiki, the boisterous blank
verse of Madhusudan, the Calcutta language of Rabindra¬
nath and skeletal images of Abanindranath. So, is there
any wonder that a reader of this category should seek
lapses in rhyme in your thoughtful poetry. .. .
If I have committed an offence, the fault lies in my
lack of discriminative power and in my want of apprecia¬
tive faculty. And I offer my apologies for such poverty
of my mind.
Professor Prafulla Chandra has left. I have had some
talks with him—of this later.
* * *

In the matter of writing articles of your own way of

life, you cannot afford to go by other people’s opinions.
What you have got to say, you will say—regardless of
others.
As to my article, it will appear meaningless if one
does not know why and in what spirit I wrote it. It is
not surprising that some people will find it so. But what
does it matter ?
In such a society or organisation, a particular person
may attain a very high position; but I can now well un¬
derstand that in a different set-up, his place may be at
the very bottom; one’s judgment of things depends on
his own ideas and his estimate of man.
* * *

So, how can appreciation or non-appreciation of other

people affect you ? Yes, you are right in saying that you
 LETTERS 1912-1921 177

must be guided by the light within you.

Yours
Foolish and Poor
Correspondent

(33)
Vishram Kutir
Kurseong
17th November (1915)

It is only natural for you to be impressed with the

teachings of Lord Buddha—but I shall be happy only if
you will follow them to the letter. Will you do so ?
* * *

I have very largely solved my life’s problem. All of a

sudden I found the answer today. I have solved it intellec¬
tually—I have decided upon the main principles although
some minor details remain to be worked out. I now want the
iron will to carry out the plan into systematic details. I
lack system—I cannot function systematically. I must
rectify this by effort and practice.
* * *

We are most probably going to Darjeeling tomorrow

morning. From there we want to go up to Senchal hill.
On a clear day you can see Mt. Everest from Senchal hill.
We shall return in two or three days.

(34)
Craig Mount
Darjeeling
Saturday
20-11-15
* * *

We came here day before yesterday. In a sense this

place is better than Kurseong. You get better things to
eat and a lovelier view of Nature. In addition, there are
a number of places worth visiting. We have been to Ob¬
servatory Hill, Botanical Gardens, Museum, Race Course,
178 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

Military Barracks and Mount Senchal. Kanchenjungha is

of course visible from Mount Senchal—we also saw Everest.
Senchal is at a height of about 8400 feet—we went there
this morning. One has to go about six miles uphill. For¬
tunately the sky was clear and we had a good view of
Everest.
However, this town is—‘Calcutta transferred to the
hills’ and that is its drawback. Now it is not crowded—
people have left for the plains—I am therefore enjoying it
here.
We get a clear view of the snows from our verandah.
There are mountains and mountains all around and—the
sky-scraping, shining white peaks of Kanchenjungha
covered with perpetual snow. How fascinating is this
place ! When you see it you can hardly control your
emotions. From one end of horizon to the other there are
ranges of snow-capped mountains—like waves lashing
against the sky. Far, far away, nestled in mountain slopes
there are monasteries of Buddhist Lamas. If one wants to
lead an extremely individualistic life, there is nothing more
satisfying than the life of a wandering pilgrim. I feel like
crossing the mountains to Sikkim and Nepal. There is a
road to Tibet also. This is used for trade and commerce.
But, in the current age the life of a wandering pilgrim
is not for the youth of Bengal. Fie has very onerous duties
to shoulder.
One gentlemen asked me in Kurseong how I was enjoy¬
ing my stay there. As a matter of courtesy, I replied,
‘very well’. But I felt in my own mind that the days of
enjoyment had passed. I remember our great delight when
we came to Darjeeling for the first time during the Puja
holidays eight years ago. We had of course come here for
enjoyment then. But what a change has come upon me
now ! I had said then as an expression of boyish emotion,
‘The happiest day in my life will be when I shall become
independent and a still happier one when I shall go to
Darjeeling’.
But, today, my life is not for my own enjoyment. My
life is of course not devoid of happiness but is not for
 LETTERS 1912-1921 179

enjoyment—my life is a mission—a duty. The gentleman

in question probably came to Kurseong to enjoy himself
but I have come for physical and moral improvement. I
loathe to leave these mountains. Bengal of course has other
attractions, but, apart from that, this rustic hilly country is
incomparable. Verily, the Himalayas are the abode of the
Gods—a paradise. Our illiterate Brahmin cook, pointing
towards the Kanchenjungha said, ‘That way is paradise’.
All others laughed at him. But I realised that his words
were metaphorically true.
Well, if I try to tell you everything, I will never finish.
I am putting up here with a rich relation. They are
taking very good care of me—more than one could expect.
I have come here with a maternal uncle. People here
knew about my waywardness and now having seen me have
come to know more of it.
Now,—I have written a lot about myself. We shall go
down to Kurseong tomorrow and leave for Calcutta
the day after. The day after we shall reach Sealdah at
II a.m. I shall try to go to College the same day.
When I meet you, I shall have to undertake a sort of
judicial enquiry about yourself. I shall have to investigate
why you neglect your health.
I do hear from you but you write hardly anything
about yourself. This you also have to explain.

(35)
Wednesday Evening
8-12-15

There was a meeting today at the University Institute

to accord a reception to Jagadish Chandra. I went there
in high hopes of listening to a few words from Jagadish
Chandra’s own lips,—just to see him and to hear him speak.
I do not know why since my childhood I have always had
the deepest respect for two persons —Jagadish Chandra
and Vivekananda. I had been attracted to them by the
pictures I saw of them and ever since I came to know some¬
thing of them from other people. The ostensible purpose
180 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

of the meeting was of course ‘to honour him by a recep¬

tion’. But none other than a patriot at heart will under¬
stand how Bengalis and above all, Bengali students, have
insulted and humiliated him. The entertainment consisting
of songs, local instrumental music, poetry reading, etc. were
quite good, but, then, there was also English drama; the
actors were students—and you can well imagine what the
themes were like, and, at the end,—God save the King \
When I found that acting was on the programme, I once
thought of leaving. But in fond expectation of hearing
him speak, I tried to have a nap for the duration of the
drama. Amongst a gathering of boisterous young men, I sat
with my eyes closed like a stern puritan. The meeting
drew to a close but my wish was not fulfilled. I returned
broken-hearted and thought to myself that until we learnt
to honour our great men properly, there could be no de¬
liverance for us Bengalis, or for that matter, of India f
Honouring the great with a theatrical performance ! What
a shame ! Poor India ! 0 Bengalis, to what depths have
you descended ?
This incident has pained me deeply. I am reminded
again and again of what the most revered Dharmapala said
at a meeting : So long as men run after sensual pleasures,
India will not rise. I do not remember his exact words.
But that was the burden of his speech. I saw that with
the Bengalis, the desire for sensual pleasure had gone
deep down into the marrow of their bones. And, this was
the principal reason of their weakness in spite of their
intelligence.
What is the way out? I feel that to counteract this,
we need a band of outstanding young men of stern puri¬
tanic principles. Our countrymen must have their eyes
opened. Indeed, Ramakrishna got at the root of our
national character.
I do not know in what light Jagadish Chandra took
this reception. Jagadish Chandra the patriot will no doubt
accept whatever his country has to offer him—be it fragrant
flowers or be it dumb ash. But there can be little doubt that
this reception pained him.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 181

I am writing an article for our Debating Club in the

column ‘Next Monday’s Reading’—the subject being ‘The
civilization of India in the Vedic and Pouranic Age’. It will
help matters if you will send me in the meantime one or
two books or let me have your hints regarding some titles,
etc. or your own notes.

(36)
Sunday
19-12-15
* * *

Nowadays I have become too rational and intellectual.

All sentiments have almost died out and a stoic sternness
is getting hold of me. As days pass, the nature of life’s
ideal becomes clearer to me,—but I have not the necessary
strength to fulfil it.
* * *

In order to be able to mix with everybody in this world,

one must come out of his shell. Have I succeeded in
doing so ?

(37)
Friday
27-12-15
* * *

We are back once again in December and January is

not far behind. About this time two years ago we were in
Santipur. The most pleasant memories of that band of
sannyasis of Santipur are coming back to me.
India has lost almost everything—she has even lost
her soul, but still, we must not worry, we must not lose
hope; as the poet has said, ‘You must regain your man¬
hood’. Yes, we must be men again. The beautiful land
of India is now haunted by creatures who are but the em¬
bodiments of ghosts of the dead past. All over the place,
there is lack of hope—and death, luxury, disease, limitless
sorrow—‘Dark clouds of misfortune have overcast the en¬
tire horizon of India.’ But, regardless of all this hopeless-
182 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

ness, stillness, poverty and squalor and starvation, and

drowning the wailings of half-starved beings on the one
hand and the pompous noise made by those wallowing in
riches and luxury, we must once again sing the national
song of India. And, that is—Arise, Awake !

(38)
Wednesday Evening
2-2-16
* * *

Please take care of your health. You should take pro¬

per exercise, morning walks, have milk and eggs and not
over-tire yourself. Your whole life is in front of you;
there is no necessity of foolishly over-working yourself now
on the plea of making proper use of time.
Sureshda left yesterday. He was sorry not to have
been able to meet you. He had to leave yesterday on some
pressing work. The hostel has been changed—a shift from
2/11 to 45/1 Amherst Street. The other house was very
damp and had to be given up. All living in that Calcutta
mess excepting one or two are about to develop pharyn-
gites. Sureshda suspects that you are showing signs of
pharyngites (I am not sure of the spelling). Does your
throat still bleed ? It is my request that you get yourself
treated both for this and for your dysentery. You may get
yourself examined by Jnanda or somebody else and then
take medicines as required. Please do not neglect this.
Arabinda has been spreading news of your ill health
all over the place. Many have asked me about you. If
you wish to teach Arabinda a lesson and avoid discomfiture
for yourself, you better get yourself cured. In that case
when people come to see you, they will find you in better
health.
I heard from Bidhu that Sureshda has pharyngites.
Any way, it has been proved that even a strong physique
may break down as a result of over-work under unhealthy
conditions.
You have the bad habit of trying to suppress physical
 LETTERS 1912-1921 183

illness by will power. This is how you fell so seriously ill

on the last occasion. You may be taken ill this time also
if you are not careful. So, it is my earnest request to you
to take care of your health while there is still time. So
long.

The next two letters deal with the Oaten affair in the Presidency
College, Calcutta, to which Netaji has referred in his autobio¬
graphy.—Ed.

(39)

3812, Elgin Road

Calcutta
29-2-16

Hemanta Kumar,
I did not write to you for a day or two as there was
nothing special to write about. You cannot afford to be
restless or impatient on my account. We have to wait
patiently for a while.
In view of my representation to the Syndicate, they
will not issue any orders on my case now—they will pro¬
bably wait till the Committee’s report has been published.
Today I applied to the Committee requesting them to re¬
cord my evidence and reconsider my case. The Committee
is now recording the evidences of professors. I think it will
take another three or four days hearing the professors and
thereafter the boys will be called. We shall then appear
and give evidence. The terms of reference of the Com¬
mittee are quite wide. Thy will enquire into the following:
(1) Relation between European and Indian professors
in Presidency College.
(2) Relation between European Professors and Indian
students.
(3) Relation between Indian Professors and Indian
students.
(4) Cause of indiscipline leading on to the strike.
(5) Do leading on to assault.
The Government will probably try to carry out certain
184 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

reforms and run the Presidency College according to neces¬

sary new regulations on the basis of the recommendations
of the Committee. This is with a view to avoiding any
kind of trouble in future. So, you can well understand that
the matter is quite serious. Ashu Babu is there, so we
hope the rights of students will not suffer. If the Com¬
mittee find us innocent or give us the benefit of doubt, we
shall apply to the Syndicate to reinstate us as students of
Presidency College. If they do not reinstate us, we shall
ask for transfer. If we are given transfer certificates, there
will be no difficulty in getting admission to other colleges.
In case we fail to obtain this, I shall be practically rusti¬
cated. However, they usually do not rusticate in such cases
for more than a year. For offences of a very grave nature,
they may order rustication for life—which of course means
that studies end for good.
But then, I have much in my favour. I am well-known
as a ‘good student’, I am known at least by name in high
circles, the vast majority of the public feel that I am in¬
nocent. Ashu Babu knows of me personally and the evi¬
dence of the orderly against me is much too weak. So,
there is every possibility of my being found innocent and
let off. At least, I should get a transfer.
If ultimately everything fails, we might file a law suit.

(40)
38/2, Elgin Road
Calcutta
6-3-16
Monday

He manta,
I am feeling worried not having heard from you. Have
you not received my letter ? Our letters are being inter¬
cepted. I think I wrote my last letter on the day after I
appeared before he Committee. You may have heard that
the hostel has been closed and the college will probably not
reopen before the holidays are over. It appears that the
attitude of the Committee towards us is favourable and we
 LETTERS 1912-1921 185

hope that even if we are not declared to be innocent, we

shall be given the benefit of doubt. Anyway, for the pre¬
sent we have to wait and see. It may be desirable for you
to destroy my letters.
Please let me have all news. I had a discussion with
Beni Babu one of these days. He criticised the boys
severely and sympathised with Mr. James.
How is your health ? Please write how you are. I
hope you are taking proper care of yourself and I shall
not have to remind you again of this. Please reply early.

Yours
Subhas Chandra

(41)
Tuesday
4-7-16

When I left you I could see that your mental state was
far from good. Even so, I had to come away. I did not
write to you for the last few days. But, was that any
reason why you should not have written ? I had a mind
to see you the next morning but could not do so for some
special reason. Anyway, please let me know in detail how
you are. I should like to know what sort of comments people
are making regarding your health.
It apears I shall have to discontinue my studies. I am
facing a serious problem. So long I have been seeking
help and advice from this person and that. I now see that
the solution rests very largely with myself. Besides, my
mental state at present is not good—I do not know if I
shall survive this. Nevertheless, one of the experiences of
my life has been that a sense of hope always keeps me
going and never allows me to turn away from life. Who
knows if this is mere illusion ! Will you turn away from
me at this crisis in my life ?
I could never imagine that the problem I am facing
today would turn out to be so enormously difficult.
What more can I write ? Please write to me at length.
How is everything over there ?
186 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

(42)
Friday
(1917)
My dear Hemanta,
I just received your letter. I met Atul Babu—he failed
to find suitable quarters for me. There is some hope that
the University may open a new mess. I do not see any
other way than to wait for that. The places that Atul Babu
found out about are not convenient at all. On the first
floor of the mess on Sambhu Chatterjee Street, there is a
room available—but it is poorly lighted and ill-ventilated.
It cannot therefore be taken.
I have secured admission to the third year class in the
Scottish Church College.
I did not quite appreciate the purport of your letter.
I was not born in a poor family. This is indeed true—but
am I responsible for that ? What penance do I have to do
on that account ? I do not see any other way than to take
full advantage of the domestic and social situation in which
we have been born. Of course, the case is different with
those who are full-fledged Sannyasis. And I am not one.
And then, I do not find any change in me. To external
appearance there may have been some change as a result
of necessity, but inside me there has been none. Well,
the impetuosity of youth is calming down. With advanc¬
ing age and cumulative experience, one’s mind gets
steadier. That is most probably what has been happening
to me. Ideas which seek to fight their way out against all
opposition when one is young, tend to sober down with
advancing age.
Of course there is another consideration. If one comes
to believe that there has been a change in the mental make¬
up of the other person, he can never again be convinced
by explanation and persuasion that that is not so. In such
situations, if one tries too hard to explain himself, others
tend to get more convinced of exactly the opposite. Let
us leave it at that !
If anybody believes that there has been a change in
my mental make-up or that I am not what I was, this is
 LETTERS 1912-1921 187

a matter of great sorrow and misforture for me. I never

expected that you would do so.
In the kind of age and world we are living, we cannot
afford to give full and uninhibited play to all our senti¬
ments. We have to keep them inside us. The whole of
nature is forcing us into this.
The root of the matter is that the disease is yours,
nobody else s. And it is a kind of mental aberration—of
which I have been warning you for quite some time and
which I have tried to cure as much as I could. So long as
you are not cured of this, the whole world—why me alone
—will apear to you to be abnormal.
Have you received any answer from the Presidency
College ?
Yours
Subhas

In the following two letters Netaji relates his experiences with the
Calcutta University Unit of the India Defence Force in 1917-18.
The relevant writing in his autobiography will be found in
Chapter VIII. —Ed-

(43)

Y. M. C. A.
Calcutta University Infantry
Shooting Camp
Belghurria, E. B. Rly.
5-4-18

I have received your letter. I did not go to the Uni¬

versity Institute on that day as I was supposed to go to
Camp. The doctor having advised against it, I could not
go to camp either. We came here day before yesterday
and shall be here for two to three weeks. Rifle practice
started today. I find it quite interesting. I do not expect
we shall get leave before the 24th April. So, it will not
be possible for me to be present at the annual meeting of
the Night School at Krishnagar on the day mentioned by
you.
188 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

I am keeping reasonably well. The rest is O.K. How

is your health ?
SUBHAS

(44)
Culcutta
Tuesday
30-4-18
Hemanta,
Your letter was to hand duly. All of us returned home
on Friday last. I am keeping well. I do not expect there
will be much work for me during the vacation—as there
will be very few people left in Calcutta during the holidays.
I cannot say, however, what will happen after the Pujas.
I suppose we shall know the trend from the proceedings
of the big assembly in Delhi. Capt. Gray will take charge
of General I.D.F. from the 1st May next. After their train¬
ing has been completed, he will go out on recruiting work.
Of course, it will take another month and a half to complete
their training.
Our experience has been quite pleasant on the whole,
and there is no doubt that all of us have benefited to some
extent from what we have learnt. But then, the effect
of three months’ training cannot be very lasting and how
much one gains from any experience is determined by the
type of trainee in question.
There is not much of romance in our experience. That
is why while we were in Calcutta things sometimes appear¬
ed rather monotonous. But in Belghurria, when one day
our camp was washed away by rain and storm and the
next day there was continuous firing from dawn till 4.30
in the afternoon, we felt as if we were in field service.
Moreover, building latrines, collecting drinking water from
far-off villages, doing patrol duty at night and above all,
taking part in night operation brought a lot of satisfaction.
And, then, in the shooting competition at Belghurria, the
British instructors were beaten by the boys. The last few
days at the camp were quite decent and we came to love
 LETTERS 1912-1921 189

the life there. All of us felt a pang in our hearts, more

or less, when we had to leave.
Yesterday, I met Nilmoni and Mondal. I may see them
again today. I heard that you were too busy with your
studies to meet any people. What happened to your trip
to Bolpur ? Will you spend the holidays at Goari or go
somewhere ? I wish to have news of your health.
I shall probably stay on in Calcutta. From time to
time however I am feeling like going fo Puri. I have a
mind to visit your place also.
I am keeping reasonably well. I have not resumed
my studies yet. I shall write an article on camp life for
the College Magazine. I shall show it to you when it is
complete. Please let me have an early reply.
Subhas

P.S.— You have enquired about my promotion. I did not

get any promotion—I remained a private till the
last. One reason for this was that under Capt.
Gray’s orders, the N.C.O.s were deprived of their
stripes and instead of nominations, a fresh election
was held by vote. I was absent (sick) at the parti¬
cular time. And all the posts were filled up.

The following letter was written to Bholanath Roy, fellow-student

and friend.

(45)

38/2 Elgin Road,

12-4-19
My dear Bholanath Babu,
I ought to have informed you earlier as to how I have
fared in the examination. However better late than never.
I have done well in the first four papers but have not
been able to do satisfactorily in the last two (viz : History
of Philosophy and essay). The questions were not quite
suitable.
It is needless for me to tell you that your hints were
of great value to me within the examination hall. I got
190 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

your essay (Religion and Morality) in time. Rajen Babu

was kind enough to send it to me by post. I am going to
return it to him again as I have done with it.
Hope you are doing well. We are mostly well here.
Yours affly,
Subhas

P.S.— Relation between ethics and theology was one of the

questions in the ethics paper.
Subhas Chandra Bose
Bholanath. Roy Esq. M.A.
18, Ram Mukherjee Lane,
Sibpur.
The following letter was written to Hemanta Kumar Sarkar.

(46)
38/2, Elgin Road,
Calcutta
26-8-19

I am facing a most serious problem. Yesterday the

family made an offer to send me to England. I have to
sail for England immediately. There is no chance of gett¬
ing into any good University in England just at present.
It is their wish that I should study for a few months and
appear at the Civil Service examination. It is my consi¬
dered view that there is no hope of my passing the Civil
Service examination. The rest are of the view that in case
I fail the examination I might get into London or Cam¬
bridge University in October next. My primary desire is
to obtain a university degree in England; otherwise I can¬
not make headway in the educational line. If I now refuse
to study for the Civil Service, the offer to send me to
England will be put into cold storage for the time being
(and for all time). Whether it will ever materialise in
future I do not know. Under the circumstances, should
I miss this opportunity ? On the other hand, a great
danger will arise if I manage to pass the Civil Service
examination. That will mean giving up my goal in life.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 191

Father had been to Calcutta. He made the offer yesterday

and I had to give my consent in course of the day. Father
left for Cuttack yesterday. And I have agreed to sail for
England. But, I am at a loss to understand what my duty
is and a discussion with you is most necessary. It would
be very good indeed if you could make a trip to Calcutta
soon. I heard you were due here on the 4th. But that
will delay matters unduly.

The following letter was written to Bholanath Roy.

(47)

38/2 Elgin Road

1-9-19

My dear Bholanath Babu,

Your letter was to hand on the 20th August and I had
given Schwegler’s book to a friend of mine for making it
over to you. In the meantime events so turned out that
I had to take the book back. You will doubtless be sur¬
prised to learn that I am sailing for England on the 11th
September from the Kidderpore Dock. I intend to make
an attempt for the I.C.S. and failing that, to go up to
Cambridge. Of course I shall not be going to Cambridge
before October 1920—but shall reside at present in London.
As I mean to take up Philosophy both in the I.C.S. and at
Cambridge, I think it advisable to take my Philosophy
books with me and if possible to make some study on
board. Shall I not be so fortunate as to see you before
I leave ? I had been to college today but could not find
you.

With love,

Yours affly,
Subhas
Bholanath Roy
18, Ram Mukherjee Lane
Sibpur
192 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

The following letter was written to Hemanta Kumar Sarkar.

(48)
38/2, Elgin Road, Calcutta
3-9-19
The last few days I have been through a mental
turmoil. I had consented to go abroad after a long struggle
-—yet I was not able to convince myself that my decision
had been right. Anyway, I felt much relieved on receiving
your letter.
I was frightfully busy yesterday and so could not
write to you. I shall be sailing on the morning of the 11th
September from Calcutta—provided of course I can then
complete all necessary arrangements.
Whether or not letters of introduction will be neces¬
sary I shall decide after a personal discussion with you.
I must also consult with you about my studies. Well, once
you are here, all that will be taken care of. You need
not rush down because I shall be constantly on the move
for the next two or three days. I hope, after that, I shall
have some leisure. Your impending examination makes
things rather difficult.
The following letter was written to Jogendra Narayan Mitra-

(49)
City of Calcutta
at Indian Ocean
20th Sept. 1919
My dear Sir,
It certainly appeared ungrateful and unbecoming on
my part to neglect to see you once before leaving Calcutta,
after all that you had done for me. But I hope you will
pardon me considering the fact that I was naturally very
busy just before my departure. I might have written to
you before coming, but up till the last I hoped to go and
see you at your residence and when I failed, there was
no time for writing to you. You must have been very
anxious to know what became of the certificate and pass¬
port that I was so urgently in need of and to say the least
 LETTERS 1912-1921 193

it was extremely unkind on my part to leave you in that

state of anxiety when even a few lines might have been
welcome to you. Though it is so late in the day still you
will be glad to learn that I got the age certificate from
the Commissioner in time and the P.A., Mr. F. M. Mukherjee,
was very kind to me and did his utmost to hasten the
granting of the Certificate. If you have occasion to meet
him in the future kindly convey to him my warmest
gratitude. I also got the Passport in good time and for
this I am grateful to Mr. J. N. Bose the Assistant Com¬
missioner and some other gentlemen. I cannot say how
greatly they helped me in that critical moment. I have
stood the sea well and have not been sick since I left. We are
about twelve Bengali students on board and we have all
managed to make friends. But for their company I might
have felt lonely and uncomfortable.
We reach Colombo during the course of the day and
on the whole it will take us about 30 days to reach London.
When I reach London I hope to write to you again.
I am doing quite well on board. Hope this will find
you all in the best of health. Before closing allow me
once more to tender my warmest gratitude and my best
respects to you.
Yours affly,
Subhas Ch. Bose

I am anxious to know whether this letter reaches you.

If you find time kindly drop me a line at your convenience.
My address for the present will be
C/o. Thomas Cook & Son
Ludgate Circus
London.
Subhas
Jogendra Narayan Mitra Esq.
Deputy Magistrate & Dy.
Collector, Alipore
4, Kartic Bose’s Lane
Off Grey Street
Calcutta.
194 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

The following two letters are to Hemanta Kumar Sarkar.

(50)

8, Glenmore Road
Belsize Park
London N.W. 3
Undated (1919)
Hemanta,
I am writing a long detailed letter to you—but it is
yet unfinished. I am writing this just to inform you of my
safe arrival and my address. I am very busy at the moment
because I have not been able to fix things up about my
studies. I shall write to you at length by the mail. My
eldest brother is also staying in this house. I arrived in
London on the 20th October. Please tell Pramatha that
Jugalda is still in Marseilles. He will be going to India
with his regiment in November or December. They will
be demobilised there probably in April 1920. I got this
information from Dhiren’s father Mr. M. M. Dhar. I shall be
writing myself to Jugalda for news and then let you know.
Mr. Bharat Ch. Dhar’s son is also living in this house.
He has come to London to study for the B. Com. I find
it very cold here now. I shall stop here today. In haste,
Yours
Subhas

(51)

Fitz William Hall

Cambridge
12-11-19
* * * *
Those from whom I did not expect any letters have
written to me while none came from you. Never mind, I
hope you will be writing in future.
I told you in my last letter that I had secured admission
to Cambridge University and that I had arrived here. I
succeeded in getting a seat thanks to a friend’s help and
 LETTERS 1912-1921 195

partly also to my service with the I.D.F. Despite scarcity

of accommodation, I have been lucky enough to find living
quarters also.
I am planning to take the Civil Service examination
next year and, whether I pass or fail, to appear at the
Moral Science Tripos examination in May 1921.
I must take a degree here because that will stand
me in very good stead in future.
Indians have an association here called the ‘Indian
Majlis’. Meetings are held weekly and from time to time
guest speakers come from outside. Mrs. Sarojini Naidu
once spoke on ‘Kingdom of Youth’. Mr. Andrews has spoken
on ‘Indentured Labour System’ and on the present
grievances of Indians living in the Fiji Islands. Before I
arrived the great Tilak paid a visit here. India House tried
to prevent his coming but without success. Indians here
are of extremist temperament and there were protests at
his mild speech.
It has been snowing here for the last two days. Whether
one wills it or not, the climate of this country makes people
energetic. The activity you see here is most heartening.
Every man is conscious of the value of time and there is
a method in all that goes on. Nothing makes me happier
than to be served by the whites and to watch them clean
my shoes. Students here have a status—and the way the
professors treat them is different. One can see here how
man should treat his fellow man. They have many faults—
but in many matters you have to respect them for their
virtues. How are you ? How did you fare in the examina¬
tion ? I am anxious to know what you plan to do next.
Please write to me in detail. Suniti Babu is doing research
work in London. I am well. Jugalda is in France.
196 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

The following letter is written to Jogendra Narayan Mitra.

(52)

Fitz William Hall

Cambridge
19-11-19
My dear Sir,
On my way to London I dropped a letter to you at
one of the ports. I hope the letter reached you duly.
It looks monstrous on my part not to see you and bid
you good-bye before leaving Calcutta after all that you
had done for me. I must apologise to you once more and
I hope you will excuse me in consideration of the fact that
I was so very busy at that time. I was hoping till the last
day to be able to find time to go and see you but I failed.
The voyage was a pleasant one though rather long
and tedious. I reached London on the 20th October and
was there for a few days with my brother. I was advised
by many people in London to prefer Cambridge to London
and so I came over here. I intend to sit for the I.C.S.
examination in August 1920 and to take the Moral Science
Tripos in 1921.
I am quie well and comfortable here. Hope this will
find you all in the best of health.

With my best regards

I am
Yours affly
Subhas Ch. Bose

The following six letters were written to Hemanta Kumar Sarkar.

(53)

Fitz William Hall

Cambridge 7.1.20.
Hemanta,
Your letter (of the 27th November) reached me a few
days ago. Why have you not written to me for so long ?
 LETTERS 1912-1921 197

* * *

You have received by now the news of my coming

over to Cambridge from my letter. I found this place suitable
for studies and so I decided to come here. To have found
a seat was a matter of good luck,—it was partly due to
my University result—and above all, thanks to a friend’s
help.
* * *

What will Prafulla do now ? Please send me a copy

of the article in Bharatvarsha after it has been published.
Is Prafullada still working in Presidency College or
has he been transferred elsewhere? Please write to me fully
about your talks with Sureshda. He says he wants to start
a school, but can he get himself relieved of his employ¬
ment ? Jugal wrote to me about a month ago that he would
be relieved soon. But I do not see any sign of that happening
soon.
Sureshda has in a sense given me up. If I do not enter
the Service, there is a possibility of reunion with him.
Whether I join the Service or not, I do not understand
how that can terminate the relationship between man and
man. Is this sort of shopkeeper’s mentality the proper
mental attitude ? Anyway, I do not wish to quarrel with
anybody—I shall continue to do my duty—and in doing
so, it will be very good if I come close to other people;
if I do not, there is rfothing to lose.
I saw Suniti Babu in London.
How is Beni Babu ? Please write to me in detail about
things back home and let me know also some of your
thoughts.
In your letter I discovered a sorrowful note of some
deep-seated pain. Why this pain ?
I am quite well. If you meet Pramatha, Hemendu or
Charu, please ask them to write to me. When you see
Priyaranjan, please tell him that I have received his letter.
I shall reply to him by the next mail.
Yours
Subhas
198 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

(54)

Cambridge
Monday
19th January (1920)
Hemanta,
I was happy to receive your letter. I have the feeling
that you have taken too much work at the same time. One
has to spend a lot of energy in teaching at the University—
then there is the shop and on the top of that so much
more ! When you understand that your health is deterio¬
rating day by day, there can be no justification for such
behaviour. It is a fault with the way of life in our country
that those who do not work just do nothing at all and
those who do, try to do too much and by trying to achieve
everything in a day lose their health and all the rest of it.
If your original plan was to try for the P.R.S. and do some
teaching at the same time, it would have been better for
you not to have gone for the shop. If one is desirous of
achieving something of permanent nature, he has to remain
occupied with it for many years,—that is not possible in
a year or two. So, if you wish to do something permanent
for your country, you should function in such a manner
that you may retain your capacity to work for many years.
True enough, nobody can tell when the call to depart
comes—but even so, there is nothing to be gained by
stabbing yourself or by spoiling your health by over-work.
I am writing in very strong terms. But I feel sure you will
not misunderstand me. It is a pity, you take too much on
yourself and sometimes even though your health fails, you
complete your assignment by will power. This is not at all
a desirable situation.

Wednesday, 21st January

I am happy to have details of your examination results.

I am all the more happy to learn that you have been given
various duties at the University. I feel confident that you
will give a good account of yourself in all this work—but
 LETTERS 1912-1921 199

my only anxiety is about your health.

The ‘natives’ of this country have certain qualities
which have made them so great. First, they can work strictly
to time with clock-work precision, secondly, they have a
robust optimism—we think more of the sorrows of life,
they think more of the happy and bright things of life.
Then, they have a strong commonsense—they appreciate
their national interest very well. Now to sum up, there is
something wrong with the air we breathe—we must bring
about a change in that.
The principal cause of your neglect of yourself and
your health is that—Oriental indifference.
‘What is the good of taking care of the body, when
it lasts only a few days and will return to the dust in a few
days !’—such indifference is most undesirable for a Hero
of Labour. You need a little air from the West if that will
bring you that robust optimism.
I have written a letter to Beni Babu. I have not written
to Mr. Dutta Gupta yet.
* * *

I have nothing more to say. If you lose your health at

this young age as a result of your own neglect—the fault
is entirely yours. Man has no hand in many matters—but,
apart from that, to neglect one’s health is an offence—an
offence not only to one’s self but also to others and above
all to one’s country. If the youth of our country lose their
physical capacity at an early age, then it must be said
that there is something wrong or small in their ideal. Your
body is not your own—you are merely the trustee. That
is why I am so brutal in what I am saying. I believe you
will not neglect that trust.
I have not been able to write a detailed letter,—pro¬
bably it will not materialise. I made a mistake in thinking
that after reaching England I would take my time to write
a detailed letter. It is very difficult at the present time to
have that leisure.
I do not yet understand if I have swerved from my
ideal. I do not want to deceive myself and persuade myself
to believe that studying for the Civil Service is a good
200 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

thing. I have always hated it—and probably I still do--in

the circumstances I do not quite understand if working
for the Civil Service is a sign of my weakness or a good
augury for the future. My only prayer is that my well-
wishers may not form any hasty opinion about me.
The meaning of many events cannot be properly
assessed till the very end. Is the same not possible in my
case as well ?
Yours
Subhas

(55)

Cambridge
4th February, 1920

Hemanta,
I am happy to receive your letter. Almost all the
newspapers and the important monthly journals of our
country come here. But, there is no time to read them—
I get to know news from home from, my friends.
I am pleased to know about Prafulla. Is it a fact that
Surhit has received the nomination ?
* * *

My detailed letter to you is still in my mind—parts of

it have been written down. I wanted to write it more or less
in the form of a travel diary. For the present it will not
materialise for want of time.
How much work will you take upon yourself simulta¬
neously ? The shop, teaching, studies, Night School,—and
what more. What will be the result ? You will spoil your
health and become useless within a short period of time.
There is something so wrong with our climate that we can¬
not strike a balance between moderation and enthusiasm.
Where there is enthusiasm there is no moderation and
where there is moderation there is no enthusiasm and no
vitality. However much you may consider yourself to be
practical,—you have not yet learnt to be practical in such
matters.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 201

How are you now ? I am quite well. I have not written

to Dutta Gupta yet—I shall probably do so by the next
mail.
Yours
Subiias

(56)

Fitz William Hall

Cambridge
2nd March 1920
Hemanta,
For some time now I have not heard from you, neither
have I written to you. When the time at your disposal is
limited, you can only write to such people for whom just
a few lines suffice.
The other day there was the Annual Dinner at the
Indian Majlis. Mr. Horniman attended as our guest. Some
local foreign friends also came. 'On Sunday last Mrs. Ray
gave a lecture at a meeting of the Majlis on the ‘Rights
of the Indian Mother’. Really, when will Indian women once
again assume their role as educators of society ? So long
as India’s women will not wake up, India will never wake
up. When I heard Mrs. Sarojini Naidu speak here the other
day, I could hardly contain the happiness that was surging
within my breast. On that day I could see that even today
a woman of India had such erudition, inspiration, qualities
and character that she could face the Western world and
express herself. Later I came to know Dr. Mrigen Mitra’s
wife in London. I found Dr. Mitra a moderate in politics
and Mrs. Mitra an extremist and my happiness knew no
bounds. And then I came to know Mrs. Dhar—Girishda’s
mother—she is also an extremist. After seeing all this I
have come to believe that the country which has women
of such high ideals, cannot but make progress. I believe
a deep sense of patriotism develops in Indian women who
come to this country, because a mother’s heart is very
sensitive and deep.
Let us leave it there—I am just rambling. Do you meet
202 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

Girishda ? Where is he and how is he doing ? Please ask

him to write to me when you see him. What is all the other
news of the shop ? I have heard Jagadish Babu has become
an F.R.S. Labour leaders had told him—‘The country which
can tolerate Amritsar massacres deserves it’. Horniman is
a true friend of India. He is very keen to return to his land
of adoption. He is not getting his passport.
* * *

I do not know which way I am drifting. Neither do I

know at which port my voyage will end. However, I have
faith that if you all do not deny me your love and blessings,
I shall not go astray.
My handwriting is probably getting wrorse everyday.
So much for today. Please give me all your news.

(57)

Cambridge
10th March (1920)

Hemanta,
I have received your long letter. I shall not be able to
answer it before reading it over and over again. I am
therefore not replying to it by this mail—I am confining
myself to business matters only.
1. Re : Expenses
If you leave out the initial expenses on account of
clothing and personal effects, I think one can get along with
£250/-. I suppose you will not be admitted as an ordinary
student—so lecture fees can be left out. It is quite difficult
for an ordinary student to carry on—but I believe it should
not be at all hard for a research student. Here there are
three terms in a year.
After thinking it over seriously, I feel it is very difficult
to say if £250/- will do. It is impossible to manage boarding
and lodging etc. here for less than fifteen or sixteen pounds
for four weeks (you may take it as a month). In some
colleges the expenses are much higher. Then, you have to
 LETTERS 1912-1921 20a

provide for University fees and books. You will have one
advantage in that your lecture fees will be less than those
for an ordinary student. All University charges here are
billed at the end of the term. There are three terms in a
year, the terminal bill is quite a fat one and in some colleges
bills are very heavy. During term it is not possible for you
to manage with £21/-. But one hopeful feature is that terms
take only six months. During the remaining six months
there are no expenses other than board and lodging. So, for
that period, the expenses should not exceed fifteen pounds
per month. Therefore at the end of the year one may manage
with £250/- but one cannot be dead sure about it. Personally
I feel you should provide yourself with some extra funds—
it may come handy in case of need. Probably Hem Babu
(Dutta Gupta) will be willing to give you a loan. This money
will be on fixed deposit in your name. If it is not needed,
he will get the money back with interest. And in case it
is spent, you will return it later on out of your earnings.
What you will get out of your scholarship for initial
outfit will probably not be enough for all the expenses.
2. Re : Studies
In the matter of studies, there are three avenues open
to you in England—London D. Litt or Oxford degree or
Cambridge. I do not know much about Oxford—I shall make
enquiries and let you know. In Cambridge, now there is
only the B.A. Degree; you may obtain this degree either
by sitting for the examination as an ordinary student or by
submitting a thesis as a research student.
You will of course be a research student. A new proposal
has been mooted to start Ph. D. in Cambridge from this year.
I guess all arrangements in this regard will be completed
before the October term. Dr. Taraporewalla should be able
to tell you which place—London, Oxford or Cambridge will
be suitable Tor your work. London is most convenient from
the point of view of expenses. But, at the London University
they often do not exempt you from the M.A. examination and
taking the M.A. examination means a lot of trouble. Suniti
Babu was exempted but they did not want to exempt Sushil
Dey. The atmosphere of London is not good at all for studies.
204 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

I am of opinion that—it is best to work for Ph.D. at Oxford

or Cambridge and I hope arrangements for Ph.D. will t>e
completed before October.
When you are a Govt, scholar, you should apply to all
the three places through Prof. Cozajee. Nowadays it is
difficult to gain admission to Oxford or Cambridge but I
believe there will be no difficulty at all for a research student.
Suniti Babu will be able to tell you what were the advantages
as well as disadvantages of being in London.
As Michaelmas term starts in the beginning of October,
there is not much gain in coming here very early. After
June comes the long vacation here. So, once it is not possible
for you to come for the April term, it is better for you to
come for the October term. So much for today.
Yours
Subhas

(58)

Cambridge
23-3-20

I am happy to learn that you are coming here on a

State Scholarship. Whatever it is, you should come to a
quick decision as to where you wish to get admitted and
put in your application here. Then there is the question of
money. In addition to your scholarship you have to arrange
for £50 - per year. May be you will not need it—but most
probably you will. Then there is the question of outfits. I
heard that Government scholarship does not provide
anything for outfits. I think the entire range of outfits will
cost nearly one thousand rupees—of course that includes
everything.
I duly received the M.A. list you sent.
There are many truths in your long letter. But you are
not right about two things. I am not offended even now if
I am called a Sannyasi. I may not now deserve to be called
a Sannyasi—but I still feel proud of myself as before if I
am called one.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 205

Secondly, I have not told anyone that I shall not return

to Bengal after passing the I.C.S.
I approve of almost everything in your letter. If I have
to give a reply, it will become very long. Now that you are
coming, we shall talk things over and settle accounts face
to face. Let us postpone it for the present.
I am fairly well. How are you ?

The following letter was written by Netaji to Mr. Charu Chandra

Ganguly, a fellow student and friend.—Ed.

59

Cambridge
23rd March (1920)

Charu,
I was happy to receive your letter and to know your
examination result. Now you will be facing the trials of
life—I hope you will be equally successful in all the tests
to come.
So far I have not had the time to mix with a large
number of people—I expect I shall have sufficient leisure
after the ‘August’ examination.
Nilmoni, Satyen Dhar and others are well. Prankrishna
Parija is doing good research work here—his subject is
Botany.
Is there no hope of your coming abroad ?
We get all news about India here—and there is also
a lot of discussion on India. Even one who has never
thought of his own country cannot help doing so after
coming here.
I have a complaint to make. You have not replied to all
my letters. And, should you not write to me even if you
do not hear from me ?
You have to do me a service—I want the pamphlets
which Dr. P.K. Roy has written on Dr. Ward’s psychology.
Besides, I want your M.A. Psychology notes. I have no time
now to read books—so I have to depend on notes. After com¬
ing here and observing people here and their methods of
206 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

work, I have been feeling that in our country two things are
especially needed—(1) Spread of education among the
common people—(2) Labour Movement.
Swami Vivekananda used to say that India’s progress
will be achieved only by the peasant, the washerman, the
cobbler and the sweeper. These words are very true. The
Western World has demonstrated what the ‘power of the
people’ can accomplish. The brightest example of this is,—
the first socialist republic in the world, that is, Russia. If
India will ever rise again—that will come through that
power of the people.
In all the countries of the modern world which have
made progress, the same ‘power of the people’ has come
into its own.
Swami Vivekananda has said in his Bartaman Bharat
that the dominance of the three castes, Brahmana, Kshatriya
and Vaishya is a thing of the past. Among the Western
peoples, the Vaishya caste is made up of—Capitalists and
Industrialists,—their days are numbered. The Sudras or the
untouchable caste of India constitute the Labour Party. So
long these people have only suffered. Their strength and
their sacrifice will bring about India’s progress. That is
why we now need mass education and labour organisation.
I better stop here today ; there is hardly any time.
Please send the books by all means. I am fairly well. I hope
this will find you all in good health.
Yours
Subhas

The following letter is written to Sarat Chandra Bose.

(60)

Leigh - on - Sea
22.9.20
My dear brother,
I was so glad to receive the telegram conveying
congratulations. I don’t know whether I have gained any¬
thing really substantial by passing the I.C.S. Examination—
 LETTERS 1912-1921 207

but it is a great pleasure to think that the news has pleased

so many and especially that it has delighted father and
mother in these dark days.
I am here as a paying guest of Mr. Bates’s family. Mr.
Bates represents English character at its very best. He is
cultured and liberal in his views and cosmopolitan in his
sentiments. He is altogether unlike the ordinary run of
Englishmen—who are proud, haughty and conceited and to
whom everything that is non-English is bad. Mr. Bates
counts among his friends Russians, Poles, Lithuanians,
Irishmen and members of other nationalities. He takes a
great interest in Russian, Irish and Indian literature and
admires the writings of Romesh Dutt and Tagore.
I am thinking of presenting him with something which
can stand as a representative of Indian art and culture.
It strikes me that it will be a good thing to present him
with a miniature model of the Taj Mahal. The Taj Mahal
is undoubtedly one of the finest specimens of our art and
I am sure that such a present will be cordially welcomed
by him. But the difficulty in sending such a delicate com¬
modity is to pack it properly so that it may be proof against
all damage. Miniature models of the Taj can be bought in
Calcutta but failing that, can you order for one in the Jaipur
art school ? I have no idea of its price but Bardada told
me that it would not cost more than twenty or thirty rupees.
If the price is not prohibitive, i.e., if it is on this side of
forty rupees, can you order for one to be sent to Mr. Bates ?
The best thing would of course be to send it straight to
Mr. Bates instead of sending it to me. But it won’t be worth¬
while sending it if the suppliers cannot guarantee that the
thing will not be damaged on the way.
I have sent father a copy of the mark sheet which
has been sent to us. I have asked him to send it on to you
after he has done with it.
I am returning to Lond : on the 24th. I shall be back
to Camb : about the 7th of Oct: my present plan is to
prepare for the Moral Science Tripos in May (or June)
next. I shall have to prepare for the I.C.S. final examination
in Hindusthani, Riding etc. also. This will be held in
208 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

September next year.

I have been getting heaps of congratulations on my
standing fourth in the competitive examination. But I
cannot say that I am delighted at the prospect of entering
the ranks of the I.C.S. If I have to join this service I shall
do so with as much reluctance as I started my study for
the C.S. Examination with. A nice fat income with a good
pension in afterlife—I shall surely get. Perhaps I may
become a Commissioner if I stoop to make myself servile
enough. Given talents with a servile spirit, one may even
aspire to be the Chief Secretary to a provincial Govt. But
after all is service to be the be-all and end-all of my life ?
The Civil Service can bring one all kinds of worldly comfort
but are not these acquisitions made at the expense of one’s
soul ? I think it is hypocrisy to maintain that the highest
ideals of one’s life are compatible with subordination to the
conditions of service which an I.C.S. man has got to accept.
You will readily understand my mental condition as
I stand on the threshold of what the man-in-the-street
would call a promising career. There is much to be said
in favour of joining such a service. It solves once for all
what is the paramount problem for each of us—the problem
of bread and butter. One has not got to face life with any
risks or any uncertainty as to success or failure. But for
a man of my temperament who has been feeding on ideas
which might be called eccentric—the line of least resistance
is not the best line to follow. Life loses half its interest if
there is no struggle—if there are no risks to be taken. The
uncertainties of life are not appalling to one who has not,
at heart, worldly ambitions. Moreover it is not possible to
serve one’s country in the best and fullest manner if one
is chained on to the Civil Service. In short, national and
spiritual aspirations are not compatible with obedience to
Civil Service conditions.
I realise that it is needless to talk in this fashion as
my will is not my own. Though I am sure that the C. Service
has no glamour for you, father is sure to be hostile to the
idea of my not joining the C. Service. He would like to see
me settled down in life as soon as possible. Moreover if I
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 LETTERS 1912-1921 209

have to qualify for another career it will add considerably

to the financial burden which is already on your shoulders
and I am not so heartless as not to feel what that burden
means for you. Hence I find that owing to sentimental
and economic reasons, my will can hardly be called my
own. But I may say without hesitation that if I were given
the option—I would be the last man to join the Indian Civil
Service.
You may rightly say that instead of avoiding the service
one should enter its ranks and fight its evils. But even if I
do so, my position any day may become so intolerable as
to compel me to resign. If such a crisis takes place 5 or 10
years hence, I shall not be in a favourable position to chalk
out a new line for myself—whereas today there is yet time
for me to qualify for another career.
If one is cynical enough one may say that all this
“spirit” will evaporate as soon as I am safe in the arms
of the service. But I am determined not to submit to that
sickening influence. I am not going to marry—hence consi¬
derations of worldly prudence will not deter me from
taking a particular line of action if I believe that to be
intrinsically right.
Constituted as I am, I have sincere doubts as to whether
I should be a fit man for the Civil Service and I rather
think that what little capacity I possess can be better
utilised in other directions for my own welfare as well as
for the welfare of my country.
I should like to know your opinion about this. I have
not written to father on this point—I really don’t know why.
I wish I could get his opinion too.
If the ^£^s [match-makers.—Ed.] come to trouble you
again, you can ask them straight away to take a right about
turn and march off.
I am pretty well here. How are you all doing ? Where
are father and mother ?
Yours v. affly
Subhas
210 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

The following two letters were written to Deshbandhu Chitta-

ranjan Das and were sent by Netaji through a friend for being
delivered to him personally. In his letter to Sarat Chandra Bose
from Cambridge of the 28th April, 1921, Netaji mentioned the
reply that he received from the Deshbandhu to one of his
letters. The letters have been translated from the originals in
Bengali. The form of address used in the Bengali originals,
literally translated, would read: I beg to submit with saluta¬
tions’. The appropriate English form ‘Sir’ has been given in
the translations.—Ed.

(61)

The Union Society

Cambridge
16th Frebruary (1921)

Sir,
I am probably a stranger to you. But you will perhaps
recognise me if I tell you who I am. I am writing this letter
to you on one very important matter—but before I come
to business I must first prove my sincerity. Therefore I shall
first introudce myself.
My father Mr. Janakinath Bose is a practising advocate
at Cuttack and was the Government Pleader there a few
years ago. One of my elder brothers Mr. Sarat Chandra
Bose is a barrister of Calcutta High Court. You may know
my father and you surely know my elder brother.
Five years ago I was a student of Presidency College.
During the trouble in 1916 I was expelled from the
University. After losing two years I obtained permission to
resume my college studies. Thereafter in 1919 I passed the
B.A. examination and got a first class in Honours.
I arrived here in 1919 in the month of October. I passed
the Civil Service examination in August 1920 and secured
the fourth place. In June this year I shall take the
examination in Moral Science Tripos. The same month I
shall get the B.A. degree here.
Now I shall come to business. I have no desire at all
to enter government service. I have written to my father
and brother at home that I wish to give up the Service. I
have not had their reply yet. In order to get their consent,
I have to convince them of what tangible work I want to do
 LETTERS 1912-1921 211

after giving up the service. I know very well that if after

quitting the service I plunge into national work with resolute
determination, I shall have plenty to do, viz. teaching at
the National College, writing and publishing books and
newspapers, organisation of village societies, spreading
education among the common people, etc. But, if I can
now show to my family what tangible work I wish to
undertake—it will probably be easier for me to obtain
their permission to leave the service. If I can give up the
service with their agreement there will be no need to do
anything against their will.
You know best about the situation in the country. I
heard you had established National Colleges in Calcutta and
Dacca and that you wanted to bring out a newspaper
'Swaraj’ in English and Bengali. I have heard also that in
various places in Bengal village societies, etc. have been
established.
I should like to know what work you may be able to
allot to me in this great programme of national service.
Of education and intelligence I have but little—but I believe
I have the enthusiasm of youth. I am a bachelor. As regards
my education, I have read something of philosophy because
that was my Honours subject in Calcutta and I am doing
the same subject in my Tripos here. Thanks to the Civil
Service examination I have had an all-round education up to
a certain standard—such as, Economics, Political Science,
English and European History, English Law, Sanskrit,
Geography, etc.
I believe that if I can join this work, I shall be able to
bring one or two Bengali friends from here into it. But until
I personally enter the field, I cannot drag anybody else
into it.
I cannot visualize from here which are the suitable
fields of work in our country at present. But I have the
feeling that on my return to my country, I should be able
to take up two kinds of work, teaching in college and writing
for newspapers. I desire to give up the service with clear-cut
plans. If I can do that, I shall not have to spend time in
thinking and I shall be able to enter the field of work
212 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

immediately after throwing up the service.

You are today the high priest of the festival of national
service in Bengal—that is why I am writing this letter to
you. Echoes of the great movement that you have launched
in India have reached here through letters and newspapers.
The call of the motherland has thus been heard here also.
A Madrassi student from Oxford is suspending his studies
for the time being and returning home to start work there.
Not much work has so far been done at Cambridge although
a lot of discussion is continuing on ‘non-co-operation’. I
believe if one person can show the way there will be people
here to follow in his footsteps.
You are the apostle of our national service programme
in Bengal—I have therefore come to you today—with
whatever little education, intelligence, strength and enthu¬
siasm that I may possess. I have nothing much to dedicate
at the altar of our motherland—all that I have is my con¬
science and my weak physical frame.
My purpose in writing to you is only to ask you what
work you may be able to give me in this gigantic
programme of national service. If I know that, I shall be
able to write to my father and brother at home accordingly
and I shall be able to prepare my mind in that light.
I am now in a sense a government servant. Because I
am now an I.C.S. Probationer. I did not dare to write to
you direct lest my letter is censored. I am sending this
letter through a trusted friend of mine Mr. Pramatha Nath
Sarkar—he will deliver this letter personally to you. When¬
ever I shall write to you, I shall be doing so in this way. You
may of course write to me because there is no danger of
letters being censored here.
I have not told anybody of my intentions here—I have
written only to my father and brother at home. I am now
a government servant—so, I hope, you will not mention
this matter to anyone till I have resigned from the service.
I have nothing more to say. I am now ready—you have only
to command me to go into action.
My personal feeling is that if you start with the English
edition of Swaraj, I may be working as one of the sub-
 LETTERS 1912-1921 213

editorial staff. Besides, I may be teaching the junior classes

of National College.
I have quite a few ideas in my mind regarding the
Congress. I think there must be a permanent meeting place
for the Congress. We must have a house for this purpose.
There will be a group of research students there who will
be carrying on research on various national problems. As
far as I am aware, our Congress has no definite policy
relating to Indian currency and exchange. And then, it has
probably not been decided what sort of attitude the Congress
should adopt towards the Native States. It is perhaps not
known what the stand of the Congress is in regard to
franchise (for men and women). And further, the Congress
has not probably made up its mind as to what we should
do about the Depressed Classes. Because of lack of effort
in this regard (that is, about the Depressed Classes), all
non-Brahmins of Madras have become pro-Government and
anti-nationalist.
My personal view is that the Congress has to maintain
a permanent staff. They will do research on individual
problems. Each one will collect up-to-date facts and figures,
and after all such facts and figures have been collected,
the Congress Committee will formulate a policy vis-a-vis
every individual problem. Today the Congress has no defi¬
nite policy with regard to many national problems. That is
why I think the Congress must have permanent quarters
and a permanent staff of research students.
Besides, the Congress should open an Intelligence
Department. It has to be so arranged that all up-to-date
news and facts and figures about our country are available
in the Intelligence Department. Booklets will be published
in every provincial language by the Propaganda Department
and will be distributed free among the general public. Apart
from that, a book will be published by the Propaganda
Department on each and every question in our national life.
In such a book the policy of the Congress will be explained
and the grounds on which such a policy has been formulated
will also be given. I have written so much. These questions
are not new to you. I could not help writing about them as
214 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

to me they appear to be quite new. I feel that tremendous

work lies ahead of us in connection with the Congress. If
you so wish, I shall probably be able to make some contribu¬
tion in this respect.
I shall be awaiting your views. I am anxious to know
what are the different kinds of work you may be able to
assign to me. If you desire to send somebody to England to
learn journalism, I am prepared to take this work up. If I
am given this work, expenses on account of passage and
outfits will be saved. I shall of course resign from the service
before I take up this work. You will no doubt pay for my
board and lodging because after giving up the service there
will be no justification for my accepting money from home.
My personal wish is to leave for home in the month of
June if I quit the service. But I am prepared to forego that
wish if necessary.
You will forgive the great length of this letter. I hope
you will let me have your reply as early as possible. Please
accept my pronams.
I am
Yours respectfully,
Subhas Chandra Bose
My address :
Fitz William Hall,
Cambridge.

(62)

The Union Society

Cambridge
2nd March, 1921
Sir,
I wrote you a letter a few days ago—I hope you re¬
ceived it in due time.
I expect you will be happy to learn that I have all but
made up my mind to resign from the service. I have told
you in my previous letter what different kinds of work I
may be suitable for. I cannot visualize clearly from here
what sort of work offers the best scope at the present
 LETTERS 1912-1921 215

time. You are now actively in the field—you will there¬

fore know very well what kind of work presents the best
possibilities and what sort of workers are needed at
present.
It is my request that
You may kindly not mention this matter to anybody
till you receive news of my resignation from the service.
If I give up the service, I should like to return home
towards the end of June provided of course I can secure
a passage in time. I am eager to know what sort of work
awaits me at home—because I wish to prepare my mind
accordingly. Besides, it is also possible to undertake studies
here according to the nature of the work that I shall be
taking up on my return home. I hope you will let me
have a reply on this point as early as possible.
Certain ideas are coming to my mind—I am com¬
municating them to you.
(1) I may take up teaching at the National College.
I have read a little of Western philosophy.
(2) If you publish a daily newspaper in English, I
may work as one of the sub-editorial staff.
(3) If you open a research department for the Con¬
gress, I may also work there. I have written about this at
some length in my previous letter. I think we must have
a band of research students. They will deal with individual
problems in our national life and collect facts about them.
Then the Congress will appoint a committee and that com¬
mittee will consider all such facts and formulate the policy
of the Congress on each question.
Our Congress has no distinctive policy regarding
Currency and Exchange, neither has the Congress a clear-
cut policy about Labour and factory legislation. Then,
our Congress has no definite policy about Vagrancy and
Poor Relief and, again, the Congress has probably no de¬
termined policy as to the type of the Constitution we are
going to have after the attainment of Swaraj. In my view
the Congress-League scheme is entirely out-of-date. We
must now frame the Constitution of India on the basis of
Swaraj.
216 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

You may well say that the Congress is now engaged

in pulling down the existing order, so until this work of
demolition has been completed it is not possible to start
constructive activity; but I am of the view that right from
now when the work of destruction is going on, we must
begin to create. To be able to formulate a policy in res¬
pect of any problem of our national life will require think¬
ing and research over a long period of time. So research
should start right from now. If the Congress can draw up
a complete programme, we shall not have to worry about
our policy in respect of any question when we have achiev¬
ed Swaraj.
And then, there has to be an Intelligence Department
of the Congress, where all information about the country
will be available. It will be necessary for this department
to publish booklets. One book will deal with one particular
problem—for instance, the rates of birth and death during
the last decade and the mortality rates due to different
diseases.
Further, India’s position in the last decade as regards
revenue and expenditure will be published in another book
—what have been the sources of revenue and what have
been the items of expenditure. Thus we shall have to
spread information throughout the country on all aspects
of our national life through small publications.
(4) There is plenty of scope for work directed to the
spread of education among the common people. Simul¬
taneously with such activity, it will be necessary to esta¬
blish Co-operative Banks.
(5) Social Service.
It is my view that there is scope for work in the above
directions. But it will be for you to consider in which
department you would have me. Of course teaching and
journalism are the sort of work that appeals to me. I may
make a beginning with these for the present and then,
as opportunities present themselves, take part in other
activities also. To me, giving up the service means taking
the vow of poverty; so I shall not refer at all to my emo¬
luments; bare subsistence will be enough for me.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 217

If I can take up the work with full determination, I

believe I shall be able to bring one or two Bengali friends
here into it.
In Bengal you are the high priest of the great move¬
ment of national service that is now being organised. I
have come to the end of what I had to say—now it is for
you to let me participate in your great work.
As soon as I quit the service, people here will be
asking me what I shall do on my return home. So, for my
own satisfaction and in the interest of self-justification to
others, I am most anxious to know how you can utilise my
services.
I hope you will please keep all these matters confiden¬
tial for the present.
Please accept my pronams.
I am
Yours respectfully,
Subhas Chandra Bose

The following four letters are written to Sarat Chandra Bose.

(63)

Cambridge
16-2-21
Wednesday

My dear brother,
I was expecting copies of some of the photographs
taken at Shillong. I suppose they are on their way now.
Has Saroj Babu started an independent firm of his
own ? It appears so, from the letter he has written to me.
Your letter of the 20th Jan. reached me on Saturday
last. I am glad to learn how the children are getting on.
I am told Asoka has improved considerably of late. From
what I know of the Bolpur School I think it is a jolly good
idea to send Bimal there. I hope Bardidi will approve of
this plan.
You have received my ‘explosive’ letter by this time.
Further thought confirms me in my support of the plans I
218 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

have sketched for myself in that letter. The only difficulty

is what I may call social opposition. No man of the world
will approve of my rash enterprise. The ordinary man
lacks the idealism which alone can conceive of a life diffe¬
rent from the one we ordinarily live. I am sure you will
support me. If C. R. Das at this age can give up every¬
thing and face the uncertainties of life—I am sure a young
man like myself, who has no worldly cares to trouble him,
is much more capable of doing so. If I give up the service,
I shall not be in want of work to keep my hands full.
Teaching, social service, co-operative credit work, journal¬
ism, village organisation work—there are so many things
to keep thousands of energetic young men busy. Person¬
ally, I should like to take up teaching and journalism at
present. The national college and the new paper “Swaraj”
will afford plenty of scope for my activity.
As for my livelihood, I hope to earn enough to make
both ends meet—either as a teacher in the National
College or as a member of the Editorial Staff of any of the
nationalist papers, or as both. My wants are few and I
shall be satisfied with little.
When I persuaded myself, a few months ago, that I
should accept the service at present, my idea was to save
an amount roughly equivalent to the money spent over
me and then to resign the service and join public life.
That amount I wanted to set apart for the higher educa¬
tion of Gopali or Sati or for the upbringing of Bardidi’s
children. I felt (and I still feel) that I owed a duty to
the members of our family—having myself enjoyed the
benefit of an education abroad. But I have begun to doubt
whether that is the best way I can fulfil the moral res¬
ponsibility which hangs on my shoulders. I have further
begun to think that the sum total of good I can do if I
resign the service is more than what I can do if I stick to
the service and simply save money. It is for you to decide
whether I can better fulfil the moral responsibility which
rests on me by resigning the service or remaining in it.
Personally I have no doubt that I can do much more if I
am not in the service. A life of sacrifice to start with,
 LETTERS 1912-1921 219

plain living and high thinking, wholehearted devotion to

the country’s cause—all these are highly enchanting to my
imagination and inclination. Further, the very principle
of serving under an alien bureaucracy is intensely repug¬
nant to me. The path of Arabindo Ghosh is to me more
noble, more inspiring, more lofty, more unselfish though
more thorny than the path of Romesh Dutt.
I have written to father and to mother to permit me
to take the vow of poverty and service. They may be
frightened at the thought that that path might lead to suffer¬
ing in the future. Personally I am not afraid of suffering
—in fact, I would rather welcome it than shrink from it.
I am pretty well here. How are you all doing ?
I shall keep all this a secret until a decision is arrived
at.
Yours v. affiy
Subhas

P.S,.— If I resign, I intend to return home as soon as

possible. The Tripos comes off early in June and the
results will be declared within a fortnight. So I
shall be in a position to return in June along with
Bardada. I shall of course have to refund to the
India Office the total sum I get as allowance by that
time. I shall get the second instalment of the allow¬
ance ( £50/- ) by the end of March and the 3rd
instalment by the end of June.
S. C. Bose

(64)

Cambridge
23-2-21
My dear brother,
I did not hear from you by the last mail. You were
too busy at the time-—I presume.
I have already written to you more than once about
my desire to resign the Civil Service and take up public
service instead. I have submitted this desire of mine to
220 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

a severe analysis and to a mature deliberation. I can

assure you that I have not arrived at such a decision in a
moment of mental excitement. The decision may be a
regredable one from a certain point of view but it is based
on my whole outlook on life. Ever since the result of
the I.C.S. was declared, I have been asking myself whether
I shall be more useful to my country if I am iri the service
than if I am not. I am fully convinced now that I shall
be able to serve my country better if I am one of the
people than if I am a member of the bureaucracy. I do
not deny that one can do some amount of good when he
is in the service but it can’t be compared with the amount
of good that one can do when his hands are not tied by
bureaucratic chains. Besides, as I have already mentioned
in one of my letters, the question involved is mainly one
of principle. The principle of serving an alien bureaucracy
is one to which I cannot reconcile myself. Besides, the
first step towards equipping oneself for public service is
to sacrifice all worldly interests—to burn one’s boats as
it were—and devote oneself wholeheartedly to the national
cause.
You will realize that the conditions under which an
I.C.S. man has got to live and work are incompatible with
my temperament, training and general outlook on life.
Under these circumstances it would be a most illogical
thing for me to accept conditions in the midst of which I
am sure to feel miserable. On the other hand I know that
a life of sacrifice, of suffering and even of poverty is
heartily welcome to me if only it is in the interests of our
national cause.
I have already said more than once that the uncer¬
tainties of life are powerless to intimidate me. I am fully
aware that I am deliberately courting pecuniary loss and
physical discomfort. But I am prepared for the untoward
effects of my action—both immediate and remote.
The illustrious example of Aurobindo Ghose looms
large before my vision. I feel that I am ready to make
the sacrifice which that example demands of me. My
circumstances are also favourable. Our family is fairly
 LETTERS 1912-1921 221

well-to-do (except for Bardidi and her children) and I

have no pressing worldly responsibilities. I believe I have
an ascetic frame of mind which will enable me to bear
with patience any misfortune which may visit me in future.
Lastly, I am unmarried and hope to remain so. Who can
ever expect such easy circumstances ?
My plan is to return home in June after taking my de¬
gree—with Bardada if possible. I desire to take up teaching
work in the National College on my arrival in Calcutta. In
addition to this I intend to join the staff of one of the
nationalist daily papers in Calcutta. I have other plans
also in my mind viz. social service, mass education, co¬
operative credit society and the organisation of a research
department for political and economic problems in con¬
nection with the National Congress. But these plans will
be taken up later on when men and money are forthcoming.
In any case I shall have plenty of work to do to keep my
hands full when I arrive in India.
I am sure you will respond favourably to this proposal
of mine. The only obstacle is that hardly any one else
among our relatives will approve of my eccentric plans.
There will be a terrible hue and cry everywhere but I do
not think that that should scare us if we take our stand
on truth.
You have done all that you could for me and all that
I could expect from you—and without being solicited either.
I feel that I have been placed under a kind of moral obli¬
gation—the meaning and depth of which I do not suffi¬
ciently comprehend. The result is that I feel that my
proposal to resign is, to say the least, a cruel one. Such
a proposal means that the sum of Rs. 10,000/- spent for
my sake will yield no return whatsoever. But when I
appeal to you to consent to my resignation I do so, not as
a personal favour but for the sake of our unfortunate
country which is in dire need of wholehearted devotees.
You will have to look upon the money spent for my sake
as a gift laid at the feet of the mother without any ex¬
pectation of return in any shape or form.
This is my last letter to you on the subject of my
222 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

resignation. I am making a similar appeal to father and

mother also. I am sure I shall get your consent. The
next riding examination comes off on or about the 23rd
April. I hope to get a reply to this before that date and in
all probability I shall not have to appear at the next riding
examination.
I realize that it will require more strength of mind
on your part to consent to my proposal than has been
required of me in formulating this proposal. But I am
fully confident that you possess the requisite strength of
mind. I am sure that if you are convinced of the sound¬
ness of my proposal you will not allow any other con¬
sideration to withhold your consent.
Aurobindo Ghose is to me my spiritual guru. To him
and to his mission I have dedicated my life and soul. My
decision is final and unchangeable, but my destiny is at
present in your hands.
Can I not expect your blessings in return and will you
not wish me Godspeed in my new and adventurous career?

Your v. affly
Subhas

P.S.— Glad to receive your letter of the 2nd inst: and

to learn that all of you are doing well.

We are pretty well here. How are you all doing ?

Subhas

(65)

Oxford
6th April ’21
My dear brother,
Your letter of the 12th March was to hand duly. I
have been profoundly impressed by the sentiments ex¬
pressed in that letter. I am gratified to find that you
corroborate my point of view even though you do not
 LETTERS 1912-1921 223

accept my conclusions.
Since the 15th of August last, one thought has taken
possession of me—viz. how to effect a reconciliation be¬
tween my duty to father (and mother) and my duty to
myself. I could see from the very outset that father would
be against my proposal—in fact, my idea would seem to
him preposterous. It was not without a shudder therefore
—shudder at the thought of causing him pain—that I asked
you to communicate my intention to father. In fact, I did
not then have the heart to write to him direct. That was
in September last and the result of that attempt you know
very well.
Since then the struggle has been going on in my mind
—a struggle intensely painful and bitter in view of the
issues involved. I have failed to arrive at any reconcilia¬
tion. We who have grown up under the influence of Swami
Vivekananda on one side and Aurobindo Ghose on the other
—have, fortunately or unfortunately, developed a mentality
which does not accept a compromise between points of
view so diametrically opposed. It is quite possible that I
have been nurtured on a wrong philosophy. But it is the
characteristic of youthful minds to have more faith in
themselves than in others. It is perhaps an unfortunate
fact but it is a fact all the same.
You know very well that in the past I had occasion
to cause great pain not only to father and mother but to
many others including yourself. I have never excused my¬
self for that and I shall never do so. Nevertheless, con¬
ditioned as I was by temperament and circumstance, there
was no escape for me out of an intellectual and moral
revolt. My only desire then was to secure that amount of
freedom which was necessary for developing a character
after my own ideals and for shaping my destiny after my
own inclination.
Since then, circumstances have considerably changed.
Bereavement after bereavement has overtaken us. Father
and mother are not in the same state of health in which
they were some years ago. It will be cruel—exceedingly
cruel—for me to cause them grievous pain in their present
224 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

state of mind and health. I know I shall never be able

to excuse myself in afterlife for being instrumental in
bringing so much pain and worry. But what can I do ?
Should I abandon my own point of view ?
I realise that all along I alone have been instrumental
in introducing so much discord into our otherwise quiet
family. The reason is that certain ideas have taken posses¬
sion of me and these ideas have unfortunately been un¬
acceptable to others.
Father thinks that the life of a self-respecting Indian
Civil servant will not be intolerable under the new regime.
And that home rule will come to us within ten years. But
to me the question is not whether my life will be tolerable
under the new regime. In fact I believe that even if I am
in the service, I can do some useful work. The main
question involved is one of principle. Should we under the
present circumstances own allegiance to a foreign bureau¬
cracy and sell ourselves for a mess of pottage ? Those
who are already in the service or who cannot help accept¬
ing service may do so. But should I, being favourably
situated in many respects, own allegiance so readily ? The
day I sign the covenant I shall cease to be a free man.
I believe we shall get Home Rule within ten years and
certainly earlier if we are ready to pay the price. The
price consists of sacrifice and suffering. Only on the soil
of sacrifice and suffering can we raise our national edifice.
If we all stick to our jobs and look after our own interests,
I don’t think we shall get Home Rule even in 50 years.
Each family—if not each individual—should now bring for¬
ward its offering to the feet of the mother. Father wants
to save me from this sacrifice. I am not so callous as not
to appreciate the love and affection which impels him to
save me from this sacrifice, in my own interests. He is
naturally apprehensive that I am perhaps hasty in my
judgment or over-zealous in my youthful enthusiasm. But
I am perfectly convinced that the sacrifice has got to be
made—by somebody at least.
If anybody else had come forward, I might have had
cause to withdraw or wait. Unfortunately nobody is com-
 LETTERS 1912-1921 225

ing yet and the precious moments are flying away. In spite
of all the agitation going on there, it still remains true that
not a single civil servant has had the courage to throw
away his job and join the people’s movement. This
challenge has been thrown at India and has not been
answered yet. I may go further and say that in the whole
history of British India, not one Indian has voluntarily
given up the civil service with a patriotic motive. It is
time that members of the highest service in India should
set an example to members of the other services. If the
members of the services withdraw their allegiance or even
show a desire to do so—then and then only will the
bureaucratic machine collapse.
I therefore do not see how I can save myself from this
sacrifice. I know what this sacrifice means. It means
poverty, suffering, hard work and possibly other hardships
to which I need not expressly refer but which you can
very well understand. But the sacrifice has got to be made
—consciously and deliberately.
Father says that most of the so-called leaders are not
really unselfish. But is that any reason why he should
prevent me from being unselfish ? If anybody wants to
be unselfish he will unavoidably cause suffering and worry
in his own family. We cannot complain that other people
are not self-sacrificing if we ourselves are not prepared
to be so.
From the above considerations I conclude that on be¬
half of our family I must come forward with my little
offering and since this sacrifice must be undergone we
might as well do so with a light heart. Father is afraid
that I am ruining my career and that I may bring untold
suffering on myself in future. I do not see how I can per¬
suade him that the day I resign will be one of the proudest
and happiest moments of my life.
Your proposal that I should resign after returning is
eminently reasonable but there are one or two points to
be urged against it. In the first place it will be a galling
thing for me to sign the covenant which is an emblem of
servitude. In the second place if I accept service for the
226 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

present I shall not be able to return home before December

or January, as the usual custom stands. If I resign now,
I may return by July. In six months’ time much water
will have flowed through the Ganges. In the absence of
adequate response at the right moment, the whole move¬
ment might tend to flag and if response comes too late it
may not have any effect. I believe it will take years to
initiate another such movement and hence I think that the
tide in the present movement must be availed of. If I
have to resign, it does not make any difference to me or to
anyone of us whether I resign tomorrow or after a year
but delay in resigning may on the other hand have some
untoward effect on the movement. I know full well that
I can do but little to help the movement—but it will be a
great thing if I have the satisfaction of having done my
bit.
As to my programme when I return home—that will
depend on the conditions then existing in Bengal and on
the needs of that province. Apart from the work I do,
I shall have to devote a lot of time to a study of the
different problems of our national life. Only a profound
study of these problems can equip a man intellectually for
the task of intelligent service.
A couple of years’ service—specially under Lord
Sinha’s regime—will not help me in my future work. A
couple of years’ work as district officer will no doubt afford
valuable experience. But it will take about eight years to be
a district officer and two to three years in order to be a
sub-divisional officer. The first year is devoted more or
less to official, or rather clerical, work.
The movement—as you say—is now in a nebulous and
chaotic condition. But it is for us to shape it in the proper
manner. It will serve no useful purpose if we adopt the
Asquithian policy of wait and see. The movement will
either succeed or fail. If it succeeds it will do so in spite
of our indifference which one may call criminal. If it fails,
the responsibility will be ours for having kept aloof from
the movement.
I have no exaggerated opinion about the progress of
 LETTERS 1912-1921 22/

events at home. If I were sure that the movement would

progress favourably, I could easily have waited. The
apprehension of failure or slackening impels me to throw
myself into the movement before it is too late to mend
matters.
I do not know who has spread the rumour in Cal¬
cutta that I have resigned already. Some people perhaps
presume to know more about myself than I do.
The application for a military commission refers to
myself though there has been some misunderstanding on
this score. The Indian students at Cambridge have been
agitating for admission into the Officers’ Training Corps
there. I was one of those who applied in Michaelmas
Term 1920, for enlistment. But we only wanted training
during our stay at Cambridge. I expressly mentioned in
the application that I was a probationer in the I.C.S. It is
clear that when I resign the I.C.S., I can have nothing to
do with H.M’s Army.
I may do some teaching work immediately I return but
as a permanent profession I shall choose journalism. That
will help me to earn my living as well.
If for any reason I happen to change my decision re¬
garding resignation, I shall send a cable to father as that
will relieve his anxiety.
How are you all doing ? We are all pretty well here.

Yours v. affly.,
Subhas

(66)

Cambridge
20-4-21
My dear brother,
I have not heard from you for the last two weeks. I
am particularly anxious on Mejdidi’s account.
I do not know how the rumour spread in Calcutta
about 2 months ago that I had resigned. I had written only
to one man in Calcutta about my desire and he has not
228 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

given it out. I believe the expectations of certain people

took shape in the form of a rumour which soon gained
currency.
I am going to send in my resignation day-after¬
tomorrow. I have written this week to two persons in Cal¬
cutta about it and have requested them not to make a fuss
over it. The fact that I am definitely going to resign has
leaked out here only within the last few days. Unfor¬
tunately it seems to have created a sensation among the
Indian Community. I am afraid, therefore, that some of
the people here will send word to India and some people
there will try to make a sensation over it. I am anxious to
avoid creating a sensation for several reasons. In the first
place, I dislike both sensation and popular applause. Se¬
condly, if there is no sensation there is not likely to be
any difficulty about my getting home as soon as possible.
Thirdly, I would like to hide the fact of my resignation
from father’s knowledge, in view of Mejdidi’s presest state
of health. I have not written to father anything about
my resignation since I heard of Mejdidi’s illness. But I
am afraid it is impossible to keep it a secret. Still, I shall
try my best.
I had a very stormy time at Oxford—stormy—from
the mental point of view. I shall write to you in my next
letter all the reasons which finally persuaded me to choose
the path of resignation.
You need not bother about sending me any money at
present—especially in view of the unfavourable rate of
exchange. Some of my friends have offered to lend me
sufficient money which will keep me going till I reach
home. I have not hesitated in accepting the offer because
I have been assured that they are lending out of their
surplus stock which they have at present. I shall borrow
in pounds and if the rate of exchange improves during the
next few months, it will be convenient for me to repay
the amount from India. They will not lose anything by
lending me the money (except the bank rate of interest)
whereas it may be of great help to me. I expect the rate
of exchange to improve during the next few months.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 229

I shall apply for a passage early next week. I intend

to leave for home by the end of June. I shall try for a
berth in the Messageries Maritimes and failing that, in the
B.LS.N. or City Line.
You have said too many kind words about me in your
letters which I know how little I deserve. The magnanimous
spirit revealed in your letters has touched me profoundly.
I know that that spirit is worthy of you and all I shall
say is—I am proud of you. In spite of the difference of
opinion, I feel sure that no one could have expected a
more cordial and sympathetic response from one’s elder
brother.
I know how many hearts I have grieved—how many
superiors of mine I have disobeyed. But on the eve of this
hazardous undertaking my only prayer is—may it be for
the good of our dear country.
Yours v. affly.,
Subhas
Letter of resignation from the Indian Civil Service.

(67)
16, Herbert Street
Cambridge)
22-4-’21.
The Right Hon. E. S. Montagu M.P.
Secretary of State for India.
Sir,
I desire to have my name removed from the list of
probationers in the Indian Civil Service.
I may state in this connection that I was selected as
a result of an open competitive examination held in August,
1920.
I have received an allowance of £100/ (one hundred
pounds only) up till now. I shall remit the amount to the
India Office as soon as my resignation is accepted.
I have the honour to be
Sir,
Your most obedient servant,
Subhas Chandra Bose
230 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

This letter to Mr. Charu Chandra Ganguly was written by Netaji

on the day he sent in his resignation from the Indian Civil Service.
—Ed.
(68)

Fitz William Hall, Cambridge

22nd April, 1921
My dear Charu,
You are aware that once before I sailed forth on the
sea of life at the call of duty. The ship has now reached a
port offering great allurement—where power, property and
wealth are at my command. But, the response from the
innermost corner of my heart is—‘You will not find happi¬
ness in this. The way to your happiness lies in your
dancing around with the surging waves of the ocean.’
Today, in response to that call, I am sailing forth again
with the helm in His hands. Only He knows where the
ship will land.
I have not been able to decide yet what I shall do.
Sometimes I feel like joining the Ramakrishna Mission. At
other times I feel like going to Bolpur. And, then again,.
I have the desire to become a journalist. Let us see what
happens.
Yours
Subhas

The following two letters are written to Sarat Chandra Bose.

(69)
The Union Society
Cambridge,
23-4-’21
My dear brother,
I have not heard from you for the last two weeks. I
learn from father’s letter that you had been to Cuttack
during Easter Week. I am anxious to know how Mejdidi
is doing, but all of you are maintaining what appears to
me a suspicious silence about her.
I had a talk with the Censor of Fitzwilliam Hall, Mr.
Reddaway, about my resignation. Contrary to my expecta-
 LETTERS 1912-1921 231

tions, he heartily approved of my idea. He said he was

surprised, almost shocked, to hear that I had changed my
mind, since no Indian within his knowledge had ever done
that before. I told him that I would make journalism my
profession later on and he said that he preferred a journa¬
listic career to a monotonous one like the Civil Service.
I was at Oxford for three weeks before I came up here
and there the final stage of my deliberation took place.
The only point which had been taxing me for the last few
months was whether I should be justified morally in follow¬
ing a course which would cause intense sorrow and dis¬
pleasure in many minds and especially in the minds of
father and mother.
I wrote to you in one of my previous letters that I
felt that, having had the advantage of an education abroad,
I should try my best to extend the same advantage to
some other members of our family or at least to contribute
to the material welfare of our family in some other way.
Strictly personal questions did not in any way trouble me
as I did not have any worldly ambition to start with and
as I had further resolved to live a life of celibacy. But
it occurred to me that before I turned my back on all
family interests I should be convinced that I was really
acting under the inspiration of some higher duty. The apt
saying of Christ that he who hates his brother and says
that he loves God is a hypocrite—reminded me that it is
often possible to neglect mundane duties under a delusion
of working for higher ends.
I have always felt that it is unfair from our point of
view to place such a huge financial burden on your
shoulders—though I could never effect any other practical
solution of our financial problem. Consequently I felt that
I should try to decentralize the burden and take some res¬
ponsibility on my shoulders. This appeared to me all the
more imperative since in order to help father to retire you
would have to take over some further financial respon¬
sibility. I wrote to you what I felt on this matter and re¬
ceived your reply to it. The reply was magnanimous as
it could be and you tried therein to absolve me of the
232 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

moral obligation under which I felt I had been placed.

Nevertheless I feel that I have not been absolved of the
moral obligation and shall not be absolved—until and un¬
less I prove to my own satisfaction that I have done sound
and solid work in the career which I am now going to
follow.
I need not make it a secret that I felt I was responsible
more to father, mother and yourself for what I did, than
to anyone else. You have tried to absolve me of the moral
obligation though moral obligation which is deeper than
legal obligation cannot be disowned at the will of either or
both parties. The obligation I own to father and mother
is not to displease them to the best of my ability. They
are inspired by a desire to look after my own interests and
they are naturally afraid that if I resign the Civil Service
I shall be courting financial ruin and poverty for myself
in the future. I have not been able to persuade them that
the course I intend to follow will bring me the greatest
amount of happiness—that real happiness cannot be
measured in terms of pounds, shillings and pence and that
if I stick to the service I shall always feel that I am a
criminal who has not got the courage of his convictions.
Their view follows naturally upon a materialistic interpre¬
tation of life but I quite realize that out of their affection
for me they are anxious to see me getting on well in life
instead of being plunged once more into a sea of uncer¬
tainties.
My position therefore is that in entering upon a new
career I am acting against the express wishes of father
and mother and against your advice though you have sent
me your “warmest felicitations in whatever course I
choose”.
My greatest objection to joining the service was based
on the fact that I would have to sign the Covenant and
thereby own the allegiance of a foreign bureaucracy which
I feel rightly or wrongly has no moral right to be there.
Once I signed the Covenant, it would not matter from the
point of view of principle whether I served for three days
or three years or thirty years. I have come to believe
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 LETTERS 1912-1921 233

that compromise is a bad thing—it degrades the man and

injures his cause. When I was hauled up for assaulting
Oaten, I denied any complicity in the affair. I was then
labouring under a delusion that the end justifies the means.
Later on when I joined the I.D.F., I took the oath of alle¬
giance to the higher authorities—though in my heart of
hearts there was no feeling of allegiance. I have learnt
from all this that one compromise always leads to another.
The reason why Surendra Nath Banerji is going to end
his life with a Knighthood and a ministership is that he
is a worshipper of the philosophy of expediency which
Edmund Burke preached. We have not come to that stage
where we can accept a philosophy of expediency. We have
got to make a nation and a nation can be made only by
the uncompromising idealism of Hampden and Cromwell.
I feel, very strongly, as a result of my past experience
that compromise is a very unholy thing. If I had stood
up before James in 1916 and admitted that I had assaulted
Oaten, I would have been a better and truer man and
would have served the students’ cause better—though per¬
haps with unfavourable consequences to myself. Similarly,
I would have been true to myself and to my principles if
I had refused to join the I.D.F. under the existing con¬
ditions and had refrained from coming to England for the
Civil Service. But the past is past and I cannot bring it
back again. The future is still in my hands and it is for
me to decide whether I should continue further—and per¬
haps irretrievably—in the path of compromise or whether
I should stand up for a principle regardless of all conse¬
quences.
I do not believe that one cannot do any good to the
country while in the service. Neither do I believe that
one must live like a European in order to get on well in
the service. I quite realize that the true man will always
be able to shape his circumstances instead of being mould¬
ed by them. These considerations, therefore, were minor
ones and to me the most vital consideration was that of
principle.
I have come to believe that it is time for us to wash
234 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

our hands clean of any connection with the British Govern¬

ment. Every Government servant whether he be a petty
chaprasi or a provincial Governor only helps to contribute
to the stability of the British Government in India. The
best way to end a government is to withdraw from it. I
say this not because that was Tolstoy’s doctrine nor be¬
cause Gandhi preaches it—but because I have come to
believe in it.
I have come to believe, further, that the national
liberty which we want cannot be attained without paying
for it dearly in the way of sacrifice and suffering. Those
of us who have the heart to feel and the opportunity to
suffer should come forward with their offering. I do not
expect that those who have been long in the service and
have financial responsibilities to shoulder can do this.
Nevertheless each family in this wide land of ours must
come forward with its own humble tribute and as long as
we do not do our duty, we have no right to complain that
the leaders are selfish.
I feel that we have not yet contributed our share and
therefore I should make the sacrifice. Sacrifice and suffer¬
ing are not in themselves very attractive things but I can’t
avoid them as I have been convinced that without them
our national aspirations can never be fulfilled. It is purely
an accident that I should be coming forward for the work
and not somebody else. If we would approve of the sacri¬
fice in the case of a third person there is no reason why
we should not approve of it in our own case.
Besides, I find that fortunately I am fitted for this task
by my temperament and previous training.
These considerations lead me to think that I am right in
giving up the service—that father’s desire that I should
serve is unreasonable and is actuated only by natural
affection for me and solicitude for my worldly prosperity.
My resignation will bring some amount of suffering—
it may for instance hinder Sejdada’s promotion later on.
But I think we should accept some amount of suffering as
inevitable.
I hope it will not appear from this long letter that I
 LETTERS 1912-1921 235

am sermonising. Any such thing is farthest from my mind.

My desire in writing the above has been to tell you what
considerations have led me to decide upon a course of
action which is opposed to the wishes of almost all of you.
I have taken up an attitude of disobedience only after being
convinced that sacrifice and suffering are inevitable for
gaining one’s ends and that under the circumstances I am
best fitted to undergo the sacrifice.
It is not for me to judge whether this constitutes a
moral justification for acting on my own initiative in the
face of all advice to the contrary. I know I have hurt
father beyond measure and I shall never excuse myself
for having done so. Time alone will prove whether I am
right or not. If you think that I have been guilty of rash¬
ness and indiscretion I pray that you will suspend your
judgment and restrain your condemnation till my folly
is thoroughly exposed by time. If you think I am not
wrong in my choice I am sure your blessings and good
wishes will always attend on me in my future career.
I received a letter from mother saying that in spite
of what father and others think she prefers the ideal for
which Mahatma Gandhi stands. I cannot tell you how
happy I have been to receive such a letter. It will be
worth a treasure to me as it has removed something like
a burden from my mind.
I sent in my resignation a few days ago. I have not
yet been informed that it has been accepted.
C. R. Das has written, in reply to a letter of mine,
about the work that is already being done. He complains
that there is a dearth of sincere workers at present. There
will consequently be plenty of congenial work for me when
I return home.
I intend to sail for home by the end of June. I shall.
apply for a berth as soon as my resignation is accepted.
You need not bother about sending me any money now.
I have been offered a loan which will keep me going till
I reach Calcutta.
I am relieved to learn that Mejdidi has come round.
I am therefore writing to father to say that I have resigned.
236 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

1 hope and pray that he will be able to stand this piece of

bad news.
I have nothing more to say. The die is cast and I
earnestly hope that nothing but good will come out of it.
I have not heard from you for three weeks at least.
Your silence surprises me. Are you doing quite well ?
We are all pretty well here. How are you all doing ?
Does Ami still remember me ? He will be a big boy by
the time I return.
Yours v. affly.,
Subhas

(70)

The Union Society

Cambridge
18-5-21

My dear brother,
I am anxious to hear from you as I have not received
any letter from you for a long time. The Indian mail has
arrived but the first instalment of it did not contain any
letter from home.
Sir William Duke is trying to persuade me to withdraw
my resignation. He wrote to Bardada about it. The Secre¬
tary of the Civil Service Board at Cambridge, Mr Roberts,
also asked me to reconsider my decision and he said he
was acting under instructions from the India Office. I have
sent word to Sir William saying that I have acted after
mature deliberation.
My examination (Tripos) comes off on the 1st June.
According to my present plan I shall sail from
Marseilles towards the end of June or the beginning of
July. I shall book my passage as soon as I receive inti¬
mation that my resignation has been accepted.
How are you all doing ? I am pretty well here.
Bardada will be going to Oxford shortly on a visit.
I intend to travel by one of the Nippon Yasen Kaisha
boats and shall land at Colombo.
 LETTERS 1912-1921 23 7

The Japanese Crown Prince is receiving a magnificent

reception all over England. He came here yesterday to
receive the Hon. L.L.D. He had a splendid ovation here
as well.
Yours v. affly.,
Subhas
 j ,• i.’ m * 2*1 ? • ■':}

■ ><

.
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 Part III

APPENDICES
 APPENDIX 1

GENEALOGICAL TREE OF THE BOSES OF MAHINAGAR

1. DASARATHA BOSE
!
2. Krishnarama
I
3. Bhavanatha
I
4. Hangseshwar
I
5. Shaktiram 5. Muktiram 5. Alankar
I
6. Damodar
I
7. Ananta
I
8. Gunakar
I
9. Madhav
I
10. Lakhan

11. Mahipati 11. Panchanan 11. Narayan

(Subuddhi Khan)
12. Ishan Bose Khan (4th --1
of the 10 sons of
Mahipati) 12. Sthir
13. Gopinath (Purandar |
Bose Khan) (2nd 13. Konark
son of Ishan)
14. Paramanand
I
15. Basudev

16. Janakinath
 APPENDIX 241

17. Ramaninath
I
18. Bhawanidas
I
19. Rambhadra
I
20. Jadavendra 20. Sadashib
I
i i i
21. Rameshwar 21. Khargeshwar 21. Ratneshwar

22. Ramcharan
I

23. Ramkanta 23. Ramhari

I
I I
24. Ram- 24. Madan- 24. Pranmohan 24. Krishna- 24. Mathura- 24 Bhuvan-
mohan mohan mohan mohan mohan
1
I
25. Brindaban 25. Dinanath 25. Haranath
I

26. Jadunath 26. Kedarnath 26. Devendranath 26. Janakinath

I
27. Pramila Bala Mitra 27. Sarala Bala Dey 27. Satish Chandra 27. Sarat Chandra
27. Suresh Chandra 27. Sudhir Chandra 27. Sunil Chandra 27. Tarubala Roy
27. Subhas Chandra 27. Malina Dutta 27. Protiva Mitra 27. Kanaklata Mitra
27. Sailesh Chandra 27. Santosh Chandra
 APPEN

GENEALOGICAL TREE OF

KASI NATH PUTT

I
I I i
1st Daughter W/o. 1st Son Ganga Narayan 2nd Daughter W/o.
Late Sir Romesh Mitter Dutt (Grand father of Atal Behari Bose
Subhas Chandra) (Hooghly) Sub-
Judge, Maternal
Grandfather of
Sir Nripendranath
Sircar

I .! i I !
Monmotho Nibaran Daughter W/o. Sir Benod Sir Provas
Mitter Mitter Suresh Ch. Mitter Mitter
Biswas

I I
Surendra Jyotindra Prabhabati Satya Bati Late Rupa Bati
W/o. Tanakinath W/o. Baroda W/o. Upendra-
Bose Ch. Mitra, c.s. nath Basu

Nishabati Arunendra
W/o. Jatindra-
nath, Basu

Promila Sarala Satish Sarat Suresh Sudhir Sunil Taru Bala

W/o. Sushil W/o. Bisseswar W/o. Radha
K. Mitra De Benod Roy
DIX 2

THE DUTTS OF HATKHOLA

of Baranagore

3rd Daughter W/o. 2nd Son 4th Daughter W/o.

Rai Hari Ballav Bose Jnanendranath Dutta Dr. Mohendra Nath Bose
Bahadur, Cuttack of Kidderpore

I I 1 I
Surobala Monindra Bibhabati Roby Datta,
linguist, scholar 8c poet.

Guna Bati W/o. Bhupendra Jogindra Girindra Birendra Ushabati

Chandranath
Ghose,
Sub-Judge

Satyendra Ronendra

l I i
Subhas Molina Protiva W/o. Kanaklata W/o. Sailesh Santosh
W/o. Saroj K. Hemanta K. Nalininath Mitra
Dutt Mitra
 APPENDIX 3

JANAKI NATH BOSE

A BRIEF LIFE SKETCH *

by

Subhas Chandra Bose

In a village not far from Calcutta called Kodalia, Janaki Nath Bose
was born in 1860. He lost his mother when he was sixteen years old.
He passed the Entrance Examination from Albert School of Calcutta.
After passing the Entrance Examination he studied for some time in the
St. Xavier’s College and in the General Assembly College and then left
for Cuttack with his elder brother Devendra Nath Bose. Winning scholar¬
ships he passed F.A. and B.A. examinations with credit from Ravenshaw
College at Cuttack. He was a class-mate of Professor Prafulla Chandra
Roy and at the Cuttack College Professor Girish Chandra Bose and
Byomkesh Chakravarty were his teachers. After graduation he came to
Calcutta to take the Law Examination and at that time he had the good
fortune to become familiar with Brahmananda Keshab Chandra Sen, his
brother Krishna Vihari Sen and also with Umesh Chandra Dutt, Principal
of City College and others. By courtesy of Krishna Vihari Sen he was
professor for some time in Albert College and then for about nine months
he served as Head Master of the High School in the village of Joynagar
in 24 Parganas. He had to face severe financial difficulties during this
time.
In 1880 he married Shrimati Prabhabati, grand daughter of Kashinath
Datta and a daughter of Ganga Narayan Dutt of Baranagore near Cal¬
cutta. In 1884 he obtained the B. L. degree from the Metropolitan College
and returned to Cuttack where he started practising law with the support
of Rai Bahadur Hari Ballav Basu, the then Government Pleader of
Cuttack. Within a short time he became a very successful and influential
lawyer. His father Haranath Bose died in 1895. Some years after the
event—in 1901—-he was appointed Public Prosecutor of Cuttack. After the
death of Rai Bahadur Hari Ballav Basu in 1905, he was appointed the
Government Pleader. He was elected the first non-official Chairman of
Cuttack Municipality in 1901. In 1912 he was appointed a member of
Bengal Legislative Council and the title of Rai Bahadur was conferred on
him. In 1916 he was appointed the Government Pleader of the Circuit
Court. In 1917, owing to some disagreement with the District Magistrate,
he gave up the post of Government Pleader. Thirteen years thereafter,
in 1930, as a protest against the repressive measures of the British Raj,

* Translated from the original in Bengali.

 APPENDIX 245

he renounced the title of Rai Bahadur.

Janakinath spent his professional life in Orissa. He was very closely
connected with all philanthropic institutions and activities there. Poor
school and college students used to get help from him regularly, month
after month and year after year. Indigent neighbours and families in
straightened circumstances expected help from him and none was ever
disappointed. On every Sunday beggars were fed at his residence. He
did not remain satisfied after doing his duty to Orissa and the Oriya
people. He was deeply attached to his own village also. Poor relations,
nay any and every poor villager of Kodalia received his help in times of
need and distress. Every year he performed Durga Puja with great
pomp and grandeur in the village Kodalia and on that annual occasion he
enjoyed the re-union with his fellow villagers. For the progress and the
welfare of the villagers he set up two institutions in memory of his
parents—the Kamini Charitable Dispensary and the Haranath Library.
Janakinath had all along been very sympathetic to the Indian National
Congress. Even during the period when he was a Government Pleader,
he used to attend Congress sessions regularly and on account of this he
incurred the displeasure of the authorities from time to time. When the
non-co-operation movement started, he tried to help the Congress as far
as practicable in its constructive programme. He was a patron of khaddar,
used all kinds of Swadeshi goods and was an all-round supporter of
Swadeshi. He was connected with the first nationalist educational institu¬
tion of Orissa established by Gopabandhu Das called “Satyavadi Vidyalaya”
and he tried his utmost for the upliftment of that institution. Moreover,
when his sons devoted themselves to Congress work, he supported them
wholeheartedly.
Janakinath, throughout his life, was deeply religious. Over a long
period of time he was the President of Cuttack Theosophical Lodge. In
1912, he along with his wife, took spiritual initiation from Pandit Shyama
Nath Bhattacharyya of Bagbazar. A few years after the death of the first
Guru, he and his wife joined the ‘Satsangha’ of Thakur Anukul Chandra
of Himaitpur and both of them took spiritual initiation there. He became
all the more religious as he grew in years. In his life of intense activity
and struggle, religious inspiration was the greatest source of sus-
tenance and strength. In his youth he had to fight material want and
only through his own efforts and faith in God, could he establish him¬
self in life. Later in life when the untimely death of near and dear
ones smote him again and again, only his deep faith in God kept him
unperturbed. When his two sons, Suresh Chandra and Subhas Chandra
gave up governmental posts, he was not upset in the least—on the
contrary, all his life he encouraged his sons in all public welfare acti¬
vities. Not long before his demise, he had to face two kinds of agony
simultaneously, the untimely death of son-in-law, daughter and others
and the cruel imprisonment of his two sons Sarat Chandra and Subhas
Chandra. But even under such tragic circumstances he remained heroic¬
ally firm, never losing for a moment his deep faith in God.
Janakinath was a self-reliant man. He prospered in life by virtue
of his own hard work and he desired his sons also to be self-
246 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

reliant. To the best of his ability he arranged for good education for
his sons, but he never wanted to curb their freedom. He was a large-
hearted man. He felt very deeply for the poor. Before his death he
arranged for regular pensions for his old servants and for many un¬
fortunate and indigent persons known to him. In regard to charity
while he was generous to a degree, he preferred to keep the matter to-
himself. He was truthful and a lover of truth. Deep in his heart he
hated evil deeds, evil thoughts and evil means. He always remembered
and felt indebted to persons who helped him, but never nursed in his.
mind the thought of misdeeds or harm done to him by others. Nobody
ever heard him slandering anybody and jealousy was something com¬
pletely unknown to him. Moreover, he was extremely polite in his
speech. He never had a hard word for anybody—relations, friends,
servants, the rich or the poor, elders or youngsters. The ideal he set
up as a son, as a husband, as a father, as the patriarch of a big family
and as a man is truly rare. The way he did his duty to his family, to his.
village, to society, to the country and the way he lived his life based on
truth and righteousness is trulv worthy of emulation bv one and all.
 APPENDIX 4

PURANDAR KHAN AND MAHINAGAR SAMAJ*

by

Nagendra Nath Bose

Arrangements are being made at Mahinagar to commemorate Purandar.

In this connection discussion is taking place regarding the place where
Purandar really lived. Some time ago Sarada Charan Mitra, in his booklet
‘Purandar Khan' wrote: “The birth-place of Purandar was Sheakhala a
village in the police station Chanditola in the district now called Hoogly.
Formerly the river Kausiki used to flow by the side of the village Sheakhala.
At present only the bed of the dried up river is visible. When the flow
of the river stopped the place became extremely unhealthy and so the
descendants of Purandar left the place to live somewhere else.”
To contradict this observation of Mr. Mitra I contributed an article
to the ‘Kayastha Patrika’ fifteen years ago entitled “A visit to the land
of my forefathers”. In that article I tried to establish that actually Mahi*
nagar was the birth-place and also the place of social activities of Purandar.
It is regrettable that despite my recording of facts after that visit to
Mahinagar, Purandar’s base of activities, many even now have their doubts
about the matter; and to dispel their doubts I am writing the present
article.
The founder of the Dakshin Rari Bose dynasty was Dasaratha who
had two sons, Krishna and Param. Param migrated to Banga and his
descendants came to be classified as Bangaja. Krishna Bose chose Rarh as
his place of residence. His son was Bhabanath and Bhabanath’s son
was Hangsha. Hangsha had three sons, Sukti, Mukti and Alankar. Sukti
started living at Baganda, Mukti at Mahinagar and Alankar in Banga.
Mukti became the head of the Hindu Society of Mahinagar. This was
the period when both Rarh and Gour were under Muslim influence. In
the beginning the Kulins used to be chary of, and looked down
upon, any socio-political dealings with the Muslims. They were ex¬
tremely careful about maintaining proper social customs and manners
and preserving the biological purity of lineage. Mukti’s son was Damodar,
his son was Ananta, his son was Gunakar, his son was Lakshman
and Lakshman’s son was he famous Mahipati Basu, the eleventh
one in the genealogical tree stemming from Dasaratha. Coming to know
of his endowments, keen intellect and efficiency, he was called by the

° Translated from the original in Bengali.

Reprinted from Kayastha Patrika
27th year of publication, 2nd issue, Jaistha, 1335 B.S.
248 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

Muslim ruler of Bengal to the capital of Gour. The Muslim King

of Bengal was fully satisfied with him and appointed him to a high
post, the Minister-in-charge of the Revenue and War.
This post was something akin to the post which in the Hindu period
used to be called the post of Mahasandhi-bigrahik. Those who could
secure such posts during the rule of the Muslims were venerated as kings
by the people of their own community. Mahipati was a real leader and
when the honorific title of Subuddhi Khan was conferred on him by the
Muslim ruler, he came to be regarded as a real ruler by the people of
his own community. There is a place now called Subuddhinagar lying
about two miles to the South of Mahinagar and about a mile from Baruipur
and this ancient site keeps alive even now the memory of Subuddhi Khan.
Probably this Subuddhipur was a largesse from the Muslim ruler to
Subuddhi Khan. He might have lived here for quite a while.
Mahipati had ten sons among whom the eldest Sureshwar became as
famous as his father. His second son Gadadhar lost his status as the
son of a Kulin family on account of undesirable activities. The third
son Vishnu and the fourth son Ishan, both, were given the status of
ordinary chiefs. The fifth one Dasharathi and the sixth one Sarbeshwar,
both, were given the status of Kanistha Kulin and the rest of Mahipati’s
sons Bisheshwar, Gangadhar, Bhagirath and Parameshwar were given the
status of Teojo Kulin.
Ishan Khan, the fourth son of Mahipati topped the list by dint
of his scholarship, intellect and wisdom. At the Royal Court of Gour
he had the same position and post which his father enjoyed. Ishan
Khan had three sons, Govinda, Gopinath and Ballav. The Sultan of
Gour conferred on Govinda the honorific title Gandharva Khan, Purandar
Khan on Gopinath and Sundarbar Khan on Ballav. During the Muslim
period the system was to add some largesse in the form of fief to the
conferring of title on some person. The fief which went to Govinda
Basu was situated one and half mile to the east of Mahinagar and is
known now as Govindapur. The fief which went to Purandar is now
called Purandarpur, situated two miles to the North-westerh corner of
Mahinagar1. The fief which went to Ballava, was called Bura Mullick,
where the famous E. B. Railway Station Mallickpur is situated.
Purandar Khan was the Finance Minister and Naval Commander of
Sultan Hossain Shah. Purandar was closely associated with Sultan Hossain
Shah and helped him a great deal during the period of the Sultan’s
ascendency. As they functioned as ministers for generations from the
time of Subuddhi Khan in the court of Muslim rulers, the influence,
power, social status and prestige of the family were tremendous. More¬
over, as the finance department and the navy were under the control
of Purandar, Purandar could enjoy a great deal of autonomy. And because
of Purandar’s residence in Mahinagar, Mahinagar became a sort of centre of
the society of Dakshin Rarhi Kayasthas. At that time Mahinagar lay on the
bank of the main course of the Ganges and one could very conveniently
go all the way to Gour from Mahinagar by making a journey over the

1 There is another Purandarpur near the house of the Bandopadhyayas

of Kalyanpur.
 APPENDIX 249

river Ganges. Under the Admiralship of Purandar Khan the navy of

the Sultan of Gour commanded this water-way and thus protected the
kingdom and property of the Sultan. When Purandar was at the zenith
of his power and prestige, he took the initiative in changing the old
Ballali Kulabidhi to bring about friendly and family relations between
the Kulins and Mouliks of the Dakshin Rarhi Kayasthas. He was
prepared to unify and bring to a common status the thirteen levels of
the Kulins. On the occasion of this work of unification the whole of
the Kulina section and the leading Mouliks of the Dakshin Rarhi
Kayasthas were invited. In Mahinagar more than a lakh of people
gathered during this social function. Before this great gathering, Puran¬
dar, with a view to supplying the people invited with pure water, dug
a vast tank by appointing a large force of labourers. The place where
these large numbers of diggers used to keep the spades after washing them
at the end of the day came to be called Kodalia now a suburb of
Mahinagar. That big tank of Purandarpur stretching a mile is even now
known as the Khanpukur. This tank which was made on the occasion
of the unification of thirteen categories of Kayasthas is now mostly boggy
and this morass is now choked with wild growth of weeds and hedges.
The garden cultivated by Purandar is even now known as Malancha.
Some people point to a place where Purandar’s stable for the elephants
used to stand. As a matter of fact, due to Purandar’s residence there
Mahinagar became the main centre amongst the six centres of the
Dakshin Rarhi Kulin Kayasthas.
Before the rise of Purandar, amongst the Dakshin Rarhi Kayasthas
the Ballali custom of maintaining the purity of line through the
daughters, that is, to marry all the daughters of a family strictly to
Kulins, was prevalent. As a result no daughter of a Kulin could be given
in marriage to any Moulik. And also as a result of this, any kinship
through marriage between the Kulins and the Mouliks was almost im¬
possible. Formerly, the leading Kulins had to learn the Kulashastras well.
Purandar, being himself a leading Kulin, was a scholar on the subject
and he knew that before the Sen Kings of Bengal, no bar existed against
marital relations between the Kulins and the Mouliks. But after the
introduction of the Ballali system of Kaulinya, within a few generations
the Kulins faced the acute problem of giving in marriage their daughters
“properly”—actually a large number of Kulin daughters had to remain
spinsters throughout life. Also a gulf was created between the Kulins
and the Mouliks. Purandar realized that by imposing such parochialism on
society one could only harm society immensely by depriving it of the
power which lies in unity. And lack of social unity leads to ultimate
destruction. For this reason, conferring with scholars of the system of
Kaulinya and with Kulins he brought about unification. In that con¬
ference called to deliberate over and take the decision about this unifica¬
tion, Purandar as the leader of the caste introduced a new Kulapratha.
He knew that the I Kayasthas of Bengal had enjoyed kingly positions
themselves, had been the favourites of kings and actually were kings. So
in a kingly fashion he introduced that new system. As a king might
have many sons, but only the eldest son is entitled, by custom and
250 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

heritage, to the throne and the regal prestige of his father according to
the law of inheritance or primogeniture, similarly Purandar made it the
custom that only the eldest son of the Kulin family should be given the
task of performing the Kulin rites. Other sons, not bound by this, would
be allowed to marry girls either from Kulin or from Moulik families.
Of course to give daughters in marriage to Kulin bridegrooms and to
marry Kulin girls remained a matter of great pride and prestige. For
the Mouliks too to give daughters in marriage to Kulin bridegrooms
and to have brides from Kulin families became a matter of pride and
prestige. As a matter of fact-due to this custom of Mouliks preferring
kulin brides and bridegrooms—the prestige of the Kulins went up.
Previous to this, the prevalence of the custom of keeping Kaulinya
by marrying Kulin girls only to Kulin boys, Kulins seeking proper bride¬
grooms for their daughters had to move within a narrow circle and found
the task pretty difficult. And the Mouliks also hesitated to extend due
courtesies to the Kulins. Now, in the post-reformation period, as inter¬
marriage between the Kulins and Mouliks became possible, the Mouliks
accepted the Kulapratha introduced by Purandar with a great deal of
zest and the Kulins now commanded much more respect of the Mouliks.
Previously marriage amongst the Mouliks was endogamous universally; even
now the custom is current in Burclwan and Bankura districts. But as
soon as Purandar introduced the new system, the Dakshin Rarhi Mouliks
inhabiting the coastal regions of the Ganges began practising with zest
the custom of marrying their sons and daughters to Kulin families with
the idea that thereby they would be able to add lustre to their families.
And as a result of this, in six such centres of the Kulins as Mahinagar,
Baganda, Akna, Bali, Teka and Barisha and in neighbouring places, the
custom of marriage between Mouliks and Mouliks gradually ceased to be
in vogue. Owing to the introduction and later prevalence of purandaric
reform the Kulin families could get rid almost totally of the problem of
failing to give their daughters in marriage properly. Every aristocratic
Moulik family became eager to have Kulin brides for their sons and
to have Kulin bridegrooms for their daughters and this they came to
consider as an essential duty. At that time most of the Dakshin Rarhi
feudal chiefs were Mouliks and without a moment’s hesitation they all
supported the reform introduced by Purandar. After the introduction
of inter marriage between Kulins and Mouliks, a large number of Moulik
zamindars gave their daughters in marriage to Kulin boys and then by
endowing their Kulin sons-in law with substantial landed property helped
in establishing landed Kulin zamindar families. Quite a large number
of documentary evidences are here to prove this point.
Among the Dakshin Rarhi Kayasthas, nine hierarchical groupings have
been made—Mukhya, Kanistha, Chha Bhaya, Maddhyangsha, Teoj, Kanis-
tha Dwitiya Putra, Chha Bhaya Dwitiya Putra, Maddhyangsha Dwitiya
Putra, Teoj Dwitiya Putra. Among the nine Kulas, the first five ones,
i.e., from Mukhya to Teoj, are considered to be the leading ones. The
first born son of the Mukhya Kulin attains the status of the Mukhya by
the very fact of his birth and he is titled as Janma Mukhya or Mukhya
Kulin. In the hierarchy of the Kulas this is the highest one and this
 APPENDIX 251

too is divided into three categories—Prakrita, Sahaj and Komal. The

first one among these categories, i.e., Prakrita, is considered to be higher
than the latter two. The Kula of second born son of the Mukhya Kulin
is called janmakanistha and the eldest son of this janmakanistha has
the Kula status called Chha Bhaya. The third son of the Mukhya Kulin
has the Kula status called Maddhyangsha and the fourth has the one
called Teoj. From the fifth son downwards the other sons of the Mukhya
Kulin have the Kula status called Dwitiya Putra. The persons with such
Kula status or names as Kanistha Dwitiya Putra, Chha Bhaya Dwitiya
Putra and Teoj Dwitiya Putra are branches of Kulas with the names of
Kanistha, Chha Bhaya and Teoj.
The six persons who set up these six centres of the Kulins—Akna and
Bali of the Ghoshes, Mahinagar and Baganda of the Boses and Teka and
Barisha of the Mitras—are revered as the Prakrita Mukhyas. Later their
descendants were accorded the following status : only the eldest son of the
Prakrita Mukhya is to be considered Prakrita, the second son is to be
considered Sahaja, the third and fourth sons as Komala Mukhya, the
fifth one as Kanistha, the sixth one as Chha Bhaya, the seventh one as
Teoj, the eighth one as Maddhyangsha and the ninth son as Maddhy-
angser Dwitiya Po. Up to the time of Mahipati Bose alias Subuddhi
Khan, the 11th descendant of Dasaratha Bose the leading Prakrita
Mukhya, the above mentioned categorization of the Kula was current.
During the period of Purandar Khan this underwent some change and
became like this—Mukhya, Kanistha, Chha Bhaya, Maddhyangsha, Teoj,.
Kanistha Dwitiya Po, Chha Bhaya Dwitiya Po, Maddhyangser Dwitiya
Po and Teoj Dwitiya Po—these nine categories were made.
There is no scope here to write in great detail about the history of
the Kula-system introduced by Purandar. This much can be asserted here
that by the move taken by Purandar the Kulins of Dakshin Rarhi were
saved from extinction. Not only Purandar Khan but his eldest son
Keshab Khan, the fourteenth in the line from Dasaratha, too brought
about greater unification between the Kulins and Mouliks and became
famous by this deed. The son of Keshab Khan, Sree Krishna Biswas, the
fifteenth in the line from Dasaratha, carried on this job of unification
and became famous. This 15th one in the line Sree Krishna Basu got the
title of Biswas directly from the Sultan of Gour. On the occasion of
this title-giving, the Jaigirdari, the lordship of land fief, he got is now
called Sreekrishnapur situated to the south of Purandarpur. To the west
of this Krishnapur is the village Akna, the centre of the Ghoshes. At
present not many relics are left in Akna to demonstrate the ancient fame
of the Ghoshes—yet the neighbouring village Ghoshpur stands as a relic
to the memory of the Ghoshes.
Ananta Roy was the son of Sree Krishna Biswas. His son was Chand
Mullick and the village Chandpur named after him now stands by the
side of that canal now silted up and through which once the main current
of the river Ganges flowed—to the east of Kodalia.
As the act of unification took place thrice in Mahinagar, it became a
place of pilgrimage to those who were socially conscious.
Even two hundred years ago the Ganges used to flow with wide and
252 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

fast currents by the side of Mahinagar. In the book ‘Raimangal’ written

by Kaviram, an account of that time has been given thus :
Leaving behind Sadhughata the boat moved onwards from Surjapur
and then anchored at Baruipur. In appreciation of Her glory the worthy
one worshipped the goddess Bishalakshi and then started the journey by
boat again. In the course of the journey Malancha was left behind and
he moved towards Kalyanpur and in Kalyanpur the traveller bowed down
to the god Madhava. Now, there is no point in naming all the villages
he passed and just let me mention that the boat reached the Baradaha
Ghat. (Raimangal—p. 49).
After the Ganges changed this course, the places on the coast turned
unhealthy and an epidemic fever broke out which was the reason why
many of the Boses left this place and migrated to healthy and safe places.
Though leading Kulin Kayasthas left their ancestral homes, yet the Brah¬
mins who functioned as their preceptors and priests did not think it
advisable to move to some other places, leaving behind the rent-free
land granted to them. In all these neighbouring places of Mahinagar,
Kodalia, Changripota, Rajpur, Harinavi, Langalberia etc. the memory of
-such eminent and venerable Brahmin pundits as Vidyavachaspati etc. is
still alive. In all those places hundreds of famous Brahmin pundits were
born and because of the assemblage of so many pundits, Kodalia became
as famous as Benaras to the Dakshinatya Vedic society. A verse in Sans¬
krit is current regarding this—“Kodalia is like Puri and Kashi and
Goghata is like Mani Karnika Ghat, because Ramnarayan Tarkapanchanan
who was like Vyasa lived there.” It should be mentioned that the editor
of Somprakash, Dwaraka Nath Vidyabhusan, was a descendant of the
family of Ramnarayan Tarkapanchanan who himself was a descendant of
Vidyavachaspati. It is not possible to mention in this small article all
the names of the famous pundits who lived in that localityr.
Among the Kayasthas of that place the name of Rai Bahadur Janaki-
nath Bose of Kodalia (father of the famous Subhas Chandra Bose) and
that of Dr. Kartick Chandra Bose are worthy of special mention. Though
these two gentlemen do not reside there now, yet as it happens to be
their birth-place they often visit it and try to improve it.
About sixteen years ago a number of persons decided to keep alive
the memory of Purandar Khan by restoring the big tank dug by Purandar
Khan. But as many of them died, the attempt was nipped in the bud.
Afterwards, through the efforts of a few Brahmin youths, a library named
after Purandar was set up here. On the occasion of the inauguration of that
memorial to Purandar Mr. Jatindra Nath Bose and Mr. Amrita Krishna Basu
Mallick were present, both of them leading Kulin members of the Mahinagar
society. It is undoubtedly true that preserving the memory of Purandar
at Mahinagar is a duty which devolves mainly upon the Dakshin Rarhi
Kayasthas. But it is a matter of great regret that, though a few meetings
were arranged to be held in Calcutta with a view to taking a decision
regarding the matter of commemorating Purandar Khan, not to speak of

1 Those who desire to have some knowledge about the revered

pundits who lived here, I would refer to the third part of the Vedic
chapter of the National History of Bengal.
 APPENDIX 253

the general public, even the members of the Committee failed to join
the meetings. Only Mr. Jatindra Nath Bose and Rai Bahadur Janakinath
Bose took the initiative to carry the plan forward. A plot of land has
been purchased thanks to the efforts of Rai Bahadur Janakinath Bose.
Bricks have been collected, but the work of building the house has not
started yet due to lack of funds. This is the reason why I have been
induced to write this essay on the past glorious deeds of Purandar and
I am making this appeal to the public that all' sympathetic persons having
the good of society in their hearts should come forward to preserve the
memory of Purandar ( the defender of our society and the lion-hearted
man. Let them help to translate into reality the laudable plan of those
who took the initiative by sending money, according to their judgment
and capacity at the earliest.
 APPENDIX 5

DISCIPLINE IN PRESIDENCY COLLEGE

(a) Government Statement

(b) Report of the Enquiry Committee

(a) GOVERNMENT STATEMENT

A committee, consisting of the Hon’ble Justice Sir Ashutosh Mukherjee,
K.T., C.S.I., D.L., the Hon’ble Mr. W. W. Hornwell, M.A., Director
of Public Instruction, Bengal, Mr. C. W. Peake, Professor, Presidency
College, the Rev. J. Mitchell, M.A. F.R.A.S., Principal, Wesleyan College,
Bankura and Mr. Herambachandra Maitra, M.A., Principal, City College,
was appointed by this Government in Resolution No. 416, dated the 20th
February 1916, and letter No. 442, dated the 21st February 1916 to enquire
into the general state of discipline at Presidency College, Calcutta, with
special reference to a strike which took place on the 10th January 1916,
and to an attack upon Professor Oaten which occurred on the 15th Febru¬
ary 1916. The report of the Committee has now been received by Govern¬
ment and is published for general information. The Governor in council
desires to tender his thanks to the members of the Committee for their
labours, for the care with which they have made the enquiry entrusted to
them and for their conclusions and recommendations, which will receive
all the consideration which is due to the authority with which they have
been made.
2. The Committee have described in detail the two incidents parti¬
cularly referred to above and the antecedent circumstances which led up
to them. With regard to the strike which occurred in January, they are
of opinion that it is clearly established that some at any rate of the
students’ consultative committee entirely failed in their duty, and that
so far from assisting the Principal, some members rendered the task of
the Principal more difficult by deliberate mis-representations of his attitude.
In respect of the assault on Mr. Oaten, the Committee are impressed with
the gravity of the offence committed by those who organised and carried
it out and consider that they should be severely punished. As to the
light thrown by these incidents upon the general question of discipline
in the College, the view taken is that “it would be unjust to base on
these two incidents alone a sweeping condemnation of the entire College,
or to conclude that there had been any lack of strenuous and successful
effort on the part of the Principal and the staff to maintain discipline in
the institution”. The Committee consider that on the other hand, “the
true reasons for the present condition of things must be sought for in
other directions”. They come finally to the conclusion in which the Go¬
vernor in Council concurs, that no further disciplinary action of a general
 APPENDIX 255

nature is required, and that the Governing Body may be left to deal with
any individuals who may have been concerned with the assault on Pro¬
fessor Oaten, and also with those members of the Students’ Consultative
Committee who were implicated in the strike.
3. The Committee have made a careful examination of the general
state of discipline at Presidency College. They find that recently there
has been some ferment among the students as a body, due, in the main,
to political causes, which has resulted in the spread among them of a
spirit of insubordination and the existence of what is described as “a
spirit of excessive touchiness”. The Committee note that there is a
tendency among these young men to insist upon what they considered to
be their rights without a full realisation of their accompanying respon¬
sibilities. These unfortunate conditions are attributed in part to the acti¬
vities of dangerous revolutionary propagandists, and to the baneful in¬
fluence of injudicious discussion in the public press of breaches of discfpline.
They are also in the opinion of the Committee due in part to the irrita¬
tion caused by the division of the members of the College and between
the Indian and the Provincial Educational Services, and to the want of
free intercourse between the European Professors and the students, which
lias led, on four specified occasions in the past four years, to the exhibition
of want of tact on the part of the teachers and to an undue sensitiveness
on the part of their pupils. The Governor in Council believes that the
Committee have accurately summarized the disturbing influences which have
been at work, and desires to express his general concurrence in their
findings.
4. The Committee then proceeded to make 12 recommendations, each
of which has been carefully considered by the Governor in Council. In
the first place, he accepts the suggestion that the Governing Body of Presi¬
dency College should be reconstituted so as to make it more representative
and bring it into closer touch both with Government and with the public.
Immediate action will be taken to give effect to this recommendation. The
Governor in Council further accepts the views expressed by the Committee
as to the departmental system in the College, and also with regard to
the desirability of reconstituting the Consultative Committee of students on
a basis other than the system of election, which has clearly proved a failure.
These views will now be brought to the notice of the Principal and the
Governing Body.
5. In their fifth recommendation the Committee deal with the re¬
lations between members of the Indian Educational Service and of the
Provincial Educational Service and suggest that members of the teaching
staff should be appointed not to Services but to posts on an incremental
salary. The whole question of the future constitution of the Indian Edu¬
cational Service and the Provincial Educational Service was discussed very
thoroughly before the Public Services Commission, and now awaits the
orders to be passed on its report. It will be impossible, therefore, to take
any further action in the matter, until the recommendations of the Com¬
mission have been dealt with. The Governor in Council is in full sym¬
pathy with the views of the Committee that, in order to promote inter¬
course and foster a better understanding between the European Professors
256 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

and the students, the former should possess a competent knowledge of the
vernacular and be encouraged to learn a classical Indian language. The
Committee’s recommendation on this subject will be considered in con¬
sultation with the Director of Public Instiuction, and after reference to
the existing rules governing language examinations. The Committee fur¬
ther advise that the ^Principal should take an active part in the instruction
of the students, and thus come into more direct contact with them. Orders
have already been received from the Government of India sanctioning the
appointment of two professors of the College as Bursar and Dean respec¬
tively, and the Governor in Council hope that in view of the relief which
will thus be afforded to the Principal, he may be able to carry out the
recommendation made by the Committee. Action will therefore be taken
at an early date in furtherance of this proposal of the Committee. The
Governor in Council is not prepared to accept without some qualification
the suggestion that professors of note should be transferred from the other
colleges to the staff of Presidency College. He appreciates, however, the
value of the recommendation that graduates of special distinction, with
some experience in teaching, should alone be appointed to Presidency
College, and suitable action will be taken to give effect to it. The pro¬
posals for structural alterations designed to minimise the likelihood of
disturbance in the corridors will be referred to the Principal for exami¬
nation, in direct communication with the Superintending Engineer, with
instructions to submit their joint proposals to the Governing Body before
they are sent up to Government.
6. The Committee refer in the following terms to the question of
discussion in the Press of breaches of discipline in educational institu¬
tions : —
“It is essential that a definite pronouncement should be made by
Government as to the incalculable mischief likely to result from the injudi¬
cious discussion in the Public Press of questions relating to breaches of
discipline in educational institutions. At the same time we recognise that
the most effective remedy for the situation would be the creation of an
‘esprit-de-corps’ which would render impossible the ventilation of grievances
in the public Press”. The Governor in Council emphatically endorses
these views, to which he desires to draw the attention of all the editors
of newspapers in Bengal. He trusts that they will recognise the grave
injury which may be caused to the student community by the public
discussion of the grievances of youths who are still “in statu pupillari”.
7. The question of the management of the Eden Hindu Hostel, with
which the Committee deal in the recommendation will be taken up at
once in consultation with the Principal and the Governing Body. The
Governor in Council will also take into consideration in communication
with the Director of Public Instruction and the Vice-Chancellor and
Syndicate of the University, the general recommendations made by the
Committee on the subject of hostels.
8. The Committee refer finally to the undesirable character of the
present surroundings of Presidency College. Proposals for the removal of
the College to a more suitable situation were considered with much care
and from all points of view some ten years back, when it was deliberately
 APPENDIX 25 7

decided to retain Presidency College on its present site and elaborate

plans were prepared for its future expansion. In accordance with these
plans, a considerable area of land has since been acquired and the Baker
Laboratories have been built at a large cost. The Governor in Council
will, however, examine the papers connected with the previous proposals
in the light of the present recommendations of the Committee.

(b) REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE

We, the Committee appointed to enquire into the general conditions
of discipline at the Presidency College with special reference to the strike
which occurred in January last and the recent attack upon Professor Oaten,
have the honour to submit our report and to make recommendations.
The first of the two incidents mentioned took place on the IOth Janu¬
ary last. On that date, prizes were distributed to the students of the Hindu
and Hare Schools by His Excellency the Governor of Bengal. Some of
the Professors of the Presidency College as also some of the students who
were ex-students of these schools were invited to the function. The result
was that some of the Classes in the College were not held at the appointed
hours. There was, besides, one Professor who was late and did not take
his class in time. Many of the students of the 3rd Year Class
appeared in these circumstances to have been present in one of the
corridors contrary to the rule prescribed by the College authorities in this
behalf. The particular rule (which appears in a book of instructions,
supplied to each student) may be set out here in full : —
“To guard against disturbances to classes while lectures are going on,
it is a rule of the College that students must not enter the corridors out¬
side the lecture-rooms on the first and second storeys of the College build¬
ing until the hour for the lectures they have to attend has struck. No-
student, therefore, should be in the corridors between the sounding of the-
second gong for lectures and the next hours; nor may students enter un¬
occupied lecture-rooms, except in accordance with the first part of this
rule.”
Mr. Oaten was at the time lecturing in one of the rooms adjoining
the corridors and felt himself seriously disturbed by the noise outside; he
accordingly asked the students several times to go back to their class¬
rooms. They did so, but, later on, in the course of the same hour, the
Professor in charge of the class called the rolls and dismissed the students.
The boys then left the class-room and came into the corridor again with the
professor amongst them. Mr. Oaten was disturbed, came out of his lecture-
room and ordered the students back to their class-rooms and pushed some
of them. The evidence also shows that he stopped the professor, but
the latter established his identity and was allowed to pass through. It
is neither necessary for our present purpose nor possible on the evidence-
to determine with accuracy the exact amount of force used by Mr. Oaten,
but the fact remains that the students whose bodies had been “touched”'
by Mr. Oaten with “an impulsive gesture”, as he says, felt aggrieved and
lodged a complaint with the Principal. One of the students was Subhas
Chandra Bose, the representative of the class on the Students’ Consultative
258 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

Committee. Here it may be observed in passing that the rule in question

does not appear to have been always strictly enforced by every professor
of the College, especially when classes were dismissed before the prescribed
hour. This is not a matter of surprise when we remember that as many
as 80 lectures are delivered in the College in the course of a single day.
It should be noted, besides, that on both the occasions which have been
brought to our notice the presence of students in the corridor was due to
exceptional circumstances. To continue the narrative the Principal asked
the students to see Mr. Oaten and advised them to make up the difference
with him. This apparently dissatisfied them and the impression rapidly
got abroad amongst them that Mr. James lacked sympathy with them
and was reluctant to listen to their complaint against Mr. Oaten. This,
as we shall presently see, was entirely unfounded and aggrieved students
wholly misjudged the real attitude of Mr. James towards them. It now
transpires that while on the one hand Mr. James referred the students
to Mr. Oaten, on the other hand he privately wrote to Mr. Oaten and
hinted that it would be the wise and gentlemanly thing to make it up
with the students. Mr. Oaten has not preserved the original letter but
this is the impression we gather from his statement as to its contents.
The next day Mr. Oaten could not come to the College as he was on
guard at Government House. On that day no classes could be held as
the students went on strike. It is plain from the evidence that the lead¬
ing part in this discreditable strike was taken by a few students while of
the large majority who kept away from the classes, some did so on account
of fear of personal violence and others owing to a lack of moral courage
to face the ridicule of their fellow-students. Some of the professors, both
European and Indian, intervened but not very successfully to bring the
students round and induce them to attend their classes. We desire to
invite special attention here to the fact that in the organisation of this
strike a very prominent part was taken by some at least of the Members
of the Students Consultative Committee; while some failed to assist their
Principal to uphold law and order on the occasion of this trouble, others
actually spread an unfounded rumour that the Principal had no sympathy
for them and thus helped in a large measure to foster discontent and to
develop the strike. In the course of the day, a notice was posted by the
Principal to the effect that a fine of Rs. 5/- would be imposed upon
every student of the college who kept away from his class. This order
was issued in accordance with one of the College rules, which may be
quoted here ‘in extenso’ : —
“Whenever the students of a class are all found to be absent, un¬
less such absence can be shown to have been accidental and due to
misunderstanding every student of the class will incur fine of Rs. 5/-.
Should such absence be repeated a second time, the facts will be laid
before the Governing Body and such further punishment will be inflicted
as the circumstances require."
The next day Mr. Oaten returned to the college. He was interviewed
by a select number of students and the matter was amicably settled. The
students admitted that there had been on their part a technical breach
of rules, while Mr. Oaten expressed regret for what had happened. Mr.
 APPENDIX 259

Oaten was enthusiastically cheered by the students when he left the college
premises in the afternoon and everything seemed to have ended peacefully.
It now appears that after the strike was over Mr. James called together
all the European members of the staff and impressed upon them that they
should not on any account touch the person of students, as experience
had shown that this invariably led to serious trouble. This demonstrates
how utterly unfounded was the impression that Mr. James lacked sympathy
towards the students of the College. On the day following the strike, an
untoward event, however unexpectedly happened. Mr. Oaten had to
lecture to some of his students in history. When he went to his class he
found that a dozen students were present, of whom ten had been absent
on the day previous. He asked the students who had been absent to leave
the class. As Mr. Oaten explained to the Committee, he did so to mark
his disapproval of the conduct of his own students who had failed to stand
loyally by him. These students thereupon withdrew from the class and
complained to the Principal of the treatment they had received at the
hands of their professor. The Principal sent the complaint to Mr. Oaten,
who replied in writing seeking to justify his action as a disciplinary
measure. Mr. James had expressed the opinion before the Committee that
the action taken by Mr. Oaten was extremely injudicious, and in that
view we all concur. The students of the College in general applied to
the Principal on the same day to remit the fine which had been imposed
on them. The application was rejected by the Principal with the con¬
currence of the Governing Body and we have ample evidence that this
refusal created considerable discontent among the students. We are in¬
formed, however, that the fine was subsequently reduced to a nominal
amount in the case of some poor students and partially remitted in the
case of others who had attended classes on the second though not on the
first day of the strike.
We next come to the second incident, which took place on the 15th
February following. On that day there was an accident in the Chemical
Laboratory and the Professor of Chemistry was not able to take one of the
classes. The lecture was delivered by a substitute, who dismissed the
class five minutes before the appointed time. The students passed out
of the Laboratory and proceeded along the corridor. The evidence shows
that they talked to each other and were possibly somewhat noisy. Mr.
Oaten was very near the end of a lecture he was delivering in a room
adjoining the corridor. (The room and the corridor, it may be added,
are different from those which formed the scene of the first incident.)
He came and remonstrated with one of the students. As soon as he
turned his back and was about to enter the room, another student in the
crowd, Kamalabhusan Bose, called one of his fellow-student, Panchanan by
name. There is no reason to suppose that the boy did so with intent to
create a disturbance or to annoy Mr. Oaten. Mr. Oaten, however, heard
the boy call out in this way, came out of the room, caught hold of him,
took him to the steward and had him fined Re. 1/-. The boy asserts that
he was caught by the neck and was called a rascal. Mr. Oaten, on the
other hand asserts that he took the boy by the arm and denies that he
called him a rascal. Whatever might have actually happened, it is certain
260 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

that the impression quickly got abroad that the boy had been rudely
treated. As a matter of fact, the boy forthwith complained to Mr. James-
that he had been caught by the neck and was called a rascal. Mr. James,
thereupon directed the boy to make a written complaint and to see him
later in the day. It appears that Mr. James asked Mr. Oaten to see him
about the matter and to meet the boy in the Principal’s room. The boy
appears to have drafted a petition forthwith and to have taken it home
with the intention of showing it to his father; this draft has been pro¬
duced before us; the fair copy was filed before the Principal on the day
following. Meanwhile about two hours after this incident and shortly
before 3 o’clock Mr. Oaten went to the ground floor of the College pre¬
mises to post a notice on the Notice Board. He observed a number of
students (his own estimate is from 10 to 15) who were assembled near the
foot of the staircase. They at once surrounded him, threw him orr
the floor and brutally assaulted him. Mr. Gilchrist, who was on the first
floor, heard a noise and rushed down to help Mr. Oaten, but the assai¬
lants disappeared before he could reach the spot. We are not concerned
with the question of identification of the actual assailants of Mr. Oaten.
In fact that matter is under investigation by the Governing Body of the
College; they have, we understand upon evidence taken by them, expelled
two of the students of the College on the ground that their complicity in
the assault has been proved, and the enquiry has not yet been closed.
There can, in our opinion, be no question as to the gravity of the offence
committed by the persons who organised and carried out the assault, and
whoever is shown to have been implicated in this disgraceful affair de¬
serves severe punishment. We are, however, concerned here with the strike
and the assault only in connection with the question of the general con¬
ditions of discipline at the Presidency College.
These then are in outline the incidents with special reference to which
we are called upon to consider the general conditions of discipline in the
Presidency College and to formulate our conclusions. Are we really forced
to what, if true, would be a disquieting conclusion, namely, that the
general tone of the College is bad because although in ordinary circum¬
stances everything works smoothly, yet, when a dispute occurred between
a professor and the students, a considerable proportion of the students
behaved is if they were undisciplined? Or is it the right view that there
is no ground for anxiety as to the condition of the College because the
twro incidents mentioned, however discreditable, are due entirely to acci¬
dental circumstances and should be regarded only as unfortunate events
of an exceptional and isolated character? We are not disposed to take
an entirely optimistic view of the situation; at the same time we feel con¬
vinced that it would be unjust to base on these two incidents alone a
sweeping condemnation of the entire College or to conclude that there
had been any lack of strenuous and successful effort on the part of the
Principal and the staff to maintain discipline in the institution. The
true reasons for the present condition of things must, we think, be sought
for in other directions and to these we shall now proceed to refer.
The evidence proves conclusively the presence in the College and the-
collegiate hostel of a number of turbulent youths whose capacity for mis-
 APPENDIX 261

chief is by no means of a restricted character and who are evidently able

to make their presence felt whenever there is an occasion calculated to
•excite the students to an outbreak against authority. The circumstances
to which pernicious influence of this class of students may rightly be attri¬
buted are not far to seek, and, as will presently appear, they have been
in a large measure beyond the eontrol of even the most devoted and effi¬
cient Principal. (1) In the first place, we hold it undeniable that during
the last ten years there has been a ferment amongst students in general,
due mainly to what may be called causes of a political character which
need not be described here in detail. This has led in many instances to
a manifest spirit of insubordination and a reluctance to render unquestion¬
ing obedience to rules and orders promulgated by lawful authority. (2)
In the second place, there is baneful influence of obviously injudicious dis¬
cussions in the public press whenever a case of breach of discipline arises
in an educational institution. The harm caused in this way is incalcul¬
able. (3) In the third place, we are bound to dwell upon the possibility
of a disturbing influence of a very grave character. No evidence is needed
in proof of the undoubted fact that revolutionary propagandists have with
considerable success carried on their work among students and have from
time to time brought into their camp disaffected youths of even consider¬
able ability. To what precise extent the influence of that organisation
may have affected the rank and file of Presidency College Students, it is
impossible to determine on the evidence before us; but it is significant
that the hostel premises have been searched more than once in quite recent
years, though on neither occasion was any incriminating article found.
We cannot ignore the fact that one student of the college has been prose¬
cuted under the Indian Arms Act and that his conviction was upheld by
the High Court. We cannot also overlook the fact that action under the
Defence of Indian Act has been taken by Government against more than
■one student of the institution. Events like these in connection with what
is rightly deemed the premier college in this Presidency are undoubtedly
Calculated to cause serious anxiety amongst all persons truly interested in
its welfare and reputation and the gravity of the situation is unquestion¬
ably in no way reduced when we bear in mind the character of the assault
on Mr. Oaten. It may be conceded that no assault would probablv have
taken place on the particular day but for what may be called the Kamala
incident. Yet it would be idle to disguise the fact that the assault was
not committed by a mob of angry students in the heat of the moment but
was premedidated and carefully organised. In these circumstances, we are
of opinion that special precautions should in future be exercised in the
matter of the admission of students to the college, that their conduct there
should be carefully watched, and that all suspicious characters should be
promptly removed from the rolls by the Governing Body. (4) In the
fourth place, the arrangement which divides the staff of the college into
two Services—The Indian Educational Service and the Provincial Edu¬
cational Service—has generated in the mind of many an educated Indian
a sense of real grievance which, there is good reason to apprehend, has
been reflected upon the minds of students in general. The Indian Edu¬
cational Service, as is well known, is confined to those who were recruited
262 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

bv the Secretary of State in London and are mainly Europeans; the Pro¬
vincial Educational Service consists of all those, irrespective of their quali¬
fications, who were appointed by the Local Government. The feeling has
thus become prevalent to a considerable extent that young European Pro¬
fessors are unfairly allowed preference over the experienced Indian Pro¬
fessors of equivalent attainments. It is, we think, lamentable that this
impression should continue to gain ground,- because the inevitable effect
i§ that almost every European professor, when he first enters upon the
discharge of his duties starts at an obvious disadvantage and with a certain
amount of prejudice against him; he is regarded by the students as a member
of an unjustly favoured class, and this feeling is probably shared, though it
may be never be expressed, by some of the young professors’ Indian collegues.
(5) In the fifth place we cannot refrain from mentioning the harm done by
the occasional use of tactless expressions by certain European professors in
addressing students. For instance evidence has been given before us to
the effect that a professor of the College as chairman of a meeting of
students in the Eden Hindu Hostel once said in substance that as the
mission of Alexander the Great was to hellenise the barbarian people with
whom lie came into contact, the mission of the English here was to civilize
the Indians. The use of the term “barbarian” in this connection in its
literal Greek sense, i.e., “non-hellenic”, was misunderstood and engendered
considerable bitterness of feeling. It is also plain that, although theHrue
meaning was subsequently explained, the explanation reached only a small
portion of those who had heard the original version. We also had evidence
to the effect that a young European professor asked certain students in
the Presidency College why they were howling like wild beasts; another
asked on a different occasion why they were chattering like monkeys; while
a third is reported to have enquired of his students why they had behaved
like coolies. Only four such instances have been reported to us as having
occurred in four years, but reports of these have spread and have not
been forgotten. We are convinced that in none of these instances had the
professor concerned any ill-will towards the students or a desire to wound
their feelings; yet the deplorable fact remains that these unfortunate ex¬
pressions have been interpreted as an index of ill-will on the part of the
professors towards their students or towards Indians in general. We are
equally convinced that if a healthier tone had prevailed generally among
the students, these expressions would probably not have been interpreted
as they have been. But while we wish to emphasize the necessity for
caution and tactfulness on the part of professors in their treatment of
students, we are inclined to the view that the danger of misunderstand¬
ing would be appreciably diminished by natural intercourse between Eu¬
ropean professors and their students such as is calculated to lead to a
better mutual appreciation. We realise, however, that the Presidency
College is so located as to render practically impossible, for the present
at any rate, such intercourse between the European professors (who are com¬
pelled to live far away from the college premises) and their students, the
large majority of whom are scattered all over the city. (6) We may finally
add that the evidence shows the existence of what may be called a spirit of
excessive touchiness amongst students of the rising generation. They have
 APPENDIX 263

a very keen sense of what they call their rights, but we have unfortunately
not gained the impression that they are equally alive to their responsibi¬
lities. This characteristic is, in our opinion, a matter for serious concern.
If a student has a grievance he can make his submission to his Principal;
but he must distinctly realise that the Principal’s decision is final and has
to be accepted loyally and cheerfully. The position becomes intolerable
when a student, who fails to obtain from the authorities of his college what
he deems to be just redress, considers that he may take the law into
his own hands and even call on his fellow-students to go on strike. Even
a tacit acquiescence in so pernicious a doctrine must inevitably lead to
defiance of law and order and speedily end in the annihilation not only
of all academic but of all civilized communal life. Whilst we recognise
that every legitimate grievance should be enquired into, students should
be made clearly to understand that a frivolous complaint is in itself a
breach of college discipline and will be treated accordingly. With these
preliminary observations we proceed to state our recommendations :
(1) The Governing Body of the college should be reconstituted. It
should be of a more representative character than at present and should
be brought into closer contact with Government on the one hand and the
community on the other. The Director of Public Instruction should ob¬
viously be a member of the Governing Body and its President ‘ex-officio’.
The Principal should be an ‘ex-officio’ member and Secretary. There
should be four other members of the staff on the Governing Body, two
Europeans and two Indians, all to be nominated by the Director of Public
Instruction in consultation with the Principal. Two representatives of
the Indian Community and one representative of the non-official European
community should also be invited to join the Governing Body; there
should be no difficulty in the selection of such representative men as have
worked amongst Indian students and are familiar with the conditions of
student life in Calcutta, and one of them may very well be appointed
Vice-President of the Governing Body.
The College Council which consists entirely of professors and lecturers,
should, as hitherto, continue as an Advisory Body which would be con¬
sulted by the Principal whenever he desired.
(2) The Consultative Committee of students has, we understand, been
disbanded. If the Principal desires to reconstitute the Committee in
future, he should himself nominate the members on the recommendation
of the professors. The system of election which owed its origin to the
natural wish of the Principal to secure a Committee whose views would
represent as closely as possible those of the general body of students, has
proved a failure, as it has brought on the Committee students of what
may be called the demagogue type who are not necessarily the most
desirable members from an intellectual and moral standpoint. Mr.
Maitra does not share the view indicated in this sentence.
(3) The evidence taken by the Committee clearly shows that some
at any rate of the members of the Students Consultative Committee entirely
failed in their duty on th occasion of the strike in January. They had
been elected as representative students and occupied a position of some
trust and responsibility; yet they neglected to assist the Principal in his
264 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

endeavour to deal effectively with the strike. There is also good reason
to hold that some of the members deliberately misrepresented the attitude
of the Principal at that time and thereby rendered more difficult the
settlement of the strike. One of the members has already been expelled
by the Governing Body on account of his conduct in connection with the
assault on Mr. Oaten; but the action of the members during the strike
does not appear to have been yet investigated. The Governing Body should
now fully investigate the conduct of each member of the Consultative
Committee at the time of the strike, and should take strong action against
any members who were found to have been implicated.
(4) The departmental system which has been introduced in the
College should be retained; but we strongly advise that a member of a
department should not be chosen as its head merely because he is a member
of the Indian Educational Service. The professors and lecturers who form
the members of a department, it should also be generally understood,
stand in the relation of colleagues to each other, and any point of difference
that may arise between them should be referred to the Principal for his
ultimate decision.
(5) There is a potentiality for grave dissatisfaction in the relations
between members of the Indian Educational Service and the Provincial
Educational Service. The members of the teaching staff should conse¬
quently be appointed, not to Services, but to posts on an incremental
salary, and this is also the soundest course to follow from an educational
point of view. If effect were given to this recommendation, much of the
discontent which now prevails in the Provincial Educational Service would
disappear. A healthier tone of comradeship would prevail amongst all
the members of the professorial staff, and this could not but produce a
beneficial effect upon the students as well.
(6, European professors, more especially the professors of Arts sub¬
jects, should possess a competent knowledge of the vernacular and, if their
tastes are literary, should receive every encouragement to acquire some
knowledge of an Indian classical language. Such knowledge of the verna-
cular is likely to foster better understanding between teachers and students.
As it is difficult for a professor to learn a language in addition to the
due performance of his professorial duties, facilities should be given to
educational officers appointed in England to obtain a scientific grounding
at home, and their duties when they first join should be so arranged as
to give them opportunities for acquiring a sound working knowledge of
the vernacular.
(7) The Principal should take an active part in the work of ins¬
truction of the students and thus come into direct contact with them.
A Principal who is constrained to occupy mainly the position of an ad¬
ministrator can hardly be expected to exercise a permanent and effective
influence upon the students, as he would unquestionably do if he had
the opportunity by direct teaching to impress upon them a full re¬
cognition of his high intellectual attainments. In order that the Principal
may be able to deliver lectures, he should, we think, be relieved of routine
duties as far as possible, which may be delegated to a professor who
would hold a position similar to that of the Dean of an English College.
 APPENDIX 265

We understand that a scheme has already been drawn up by the Govern¬

ing Body of the College with a view to give effect to the suggestion we
now make, and we trust it will receive early consideration.
(8) We consider that the Indian members of the staff of a college
of the standing of Presidency College should be graduates of special dis¬
tinction and usually with some experience in teaching work, even though
this may occasionally involve transfers of professors from other Colleges.
Scholars of this stamp alone are likely to be able to command readily
the respect of their students and to maintain a position of equality as
professors in the company of their European colleagues.
(9) The question of possible structural alterations in the building
should be investigated and every effort made (by the erection of additional
staircases or other devices of a likely nature) to minimise the likelihood
of disturbances in the corridors.
(10) It is essential that a definite pronouncement should be made
by Government as to the incalculable mischief likely to result from the
injudicious discussion in the public press of questions relating to breaches
of discipline in educational institutions. At the same time we recognise
that the most effective remedy for the situation would be the creation of
an ‘esprit de corps’ which would render impossible the ventilation of
grievances in the public press.
(11) The question of a thorough reorganisation of the Eden Hindu
Hostel should be immediately taken up for consideration. It is obviously
an unsatisfactory arrangement to leave 250 students under one Superin¬
tendent, for, however, efficient and devoted he may be, he cannot
possibly exercise any real control over his wards. The arrangements
contemplated for the provision of residential quarters for the Principal
and some European members of the staff in the immediate neigh¬
bourhood of the hostel should be made for the accommodation in the
hostel of some Indian members of the staff. We regard these recom¬
mendations as of such vital importance that we press for the immediate
assignment of the necessary funds in spite of the present financial position.
This so far as we can judge, is the only means at present feasible, so
as to enable the residents of the hostel to have the benefit of social in¬
tercourse with the members of the college staff. We observe that the
hostel is divided into five wards, each under a professor as a warden.
These professors should be encouraged to visit the hostel at intervals,
and at such hours of the day, as to make it possible for them to have
friendly intercourse with the students under their charge. We desire,
finally, to sound an emphatic note of warning in reference to the building
of hostels in the future. The evidence has convinced us that a large
hostel with inadequate supervision is a source of grave danger to a college,
and we strongly advocate that no hostel should accommodate more than
40 or 50 students in charge of a resident Superintendent, preferably a
member of the college staff.
(12) While we have made the above recommendations for the con¬
struction of certain additional residential quarters in the neighbourhood
of the present hostel, and while -vye consider that this provision is essential
so long as the college continues in its present position, yet we desire
266 NETAJI; COLLECTED WORKS

to place it on record as to our emphatic opinion that the situation of the

college is most distinctly unsuitable on account of its surroundings, both
from the point of view of the congested character of the neighbourhood
and the impossibility of adequate expansion in the future even at an
enormous cost. The problem of the creation of a University town and
the removal of the college to a more healthy and commodious site in
the immediate neighbourhood of Calcutta and with easy reach of the
Indian community whose boys receive instruction in the institution is by
no means impossible of solution. The question is one of grave importance
and we feel convinced that unless it is approached and solved in a
generous and statesmanlike spirit, there is no real hope for radical im¬
provement; it is imperative that the large majority of the students—in fact
all who do not reside with their parents or natural guardians—should
be removed from unhealthy influences and every possible facility be given
for a free social intercourse between the students and the members of
die staff, both European and Indian.
We understand that with a view to indicate their unqualified dis¬
approval of the lamentable events which have happened in the college
during the last two months, the Government of Bengal have directed that
the College should be deemed closed for the remainder of the current
academical session, subject to the reservation that the annual examination
of the 1st and 3rd year students tvill be held in due course on such
dates as may be specified by the Principal and that the students in the
M.A. and M.Sc. classes will be sent up for their respective examinations
on the dates prescribed by the University authorities. In view of the
action so taken by the Government, which will have operated as a punish¬
ment upon all the students of the college we are of opinion that no
further disciplinary action need be taken in respect of the college as a
whole, though individual delinquents implicated in the strike and the
assault on Mr. Oaten should be suitably dealt with by the Governing
Body.

The 3rd April

1916.
Ashutosh Mookherjee
W. W. Horneil
C. W. Peake
j. Mitchell
Herambacliandra Maitra.
 APPENDIX 6

[ Netaji evidently intended to write out a complete account of the

two incidents involving Professor Oaten in the Presidency College*
Calcutta, in 1916. An incomplete account is available relating to
the first incident and is published below.—Editor ]

THE PRESIDENCY COLLEGE TROUBLE—A True Version

by

Subhas Chandra Bose

On Monday some 8 or 10 ex-students of the Hindu and Hare Schools,

now belonging to the 3rd year B.A. class, were invited to the School
Prize Distribution Ceremony. The meeting broke up at about 12-15 p.m.
and the students were returning. They had been informed previously
that Prof. R. N. Ghosh would not take his English class (from 12 to*
1 o’clock). But while returning they met the Steward who informed
them that as Mr. Ghosh had come, he would probably take his class.
As they were passing along the corridor of the room in which Mr. Oaten
was teaching, Mr. Oaten came out, obstructed them, catching one or two
by the hand, and insultingly ordered them to go away. The students
most becomingly went down with the intention of applying to the Prin¬
cipal. In the meantime the students already assembled in the 3rd year
class room. Seeing that it was twentyfive minutes past twelve, they
thought of going down to inform the Professor. When they were coming
out they were met by Mr. Oaten who threatened them with a fine of
5 Rupees if they left the room before one o’clock and sent them back
in the same insulting manner though they informed him of their intention
and assured him that they would not make any noise. A little before
12-25 p.m. Prof. Ghosh came and formally dismissed the class. The
students asked him if they could go down, in spite of Mr. Oaten’s threat,
with Prof. Ghos’s permission, to which he replied in the affirmative.
The students while coming away were met by Mr. Oaten and told him
that their class was dismissed and they would undertake to make no noise.
In spite of this, Mr. Oaten ordered them to go back and wait till one
o’clock and adding injury to verbal insult actually gave them rough
pushes. The students went back. At one o’clock Mr. Oaten went to
them and added some more threats, saying that a Professor had the power
to fine students. He regretted that that power was not utilised so long and
said that thenceforth it would be made use of. The students made an
application to the Principal and the same day the Principal had a long
talk with some of the aggrieved students and told them to withdraw the
application and patch up the matter with Mr. Oaten. Personally three
268 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

only agreed to see Mr. Oaten regarding their personal grievance, but
the class as a whole did not. The next day the three students waited
on Mr. Oaten but he could not unavoidably come. The class as a whole
remained so dissatisfied on getting no promise of redress and the dissatis¬
faction spread so widely that the whole body of students refused to attend
classes till their grievance was attended to. The strike lasted for two
days and on the third day Mr. Oaten spoke to the students and brought
the unpleasant incident to an end.
 APPENDIX 7

SUBHAS CHANDRA BOSE

Obiit 1945

Did I once suffer, Subhash, at your hand ?

Your patriot heart is still’d ! I would forget !
Let me recall but this, that while as yet
The Ra] that you once challenged in your land
Was mighty; Icarus—like your courage planned
To mount the skies, and storm in battle set
The ramparts of High Heaven, to claim the debt
Of freedom owed, on plain and rude demand.
High Heaven yielded, but in dignity
Like Icarus, you sped towards the sea.
Your wings were melted from you by the sun.
The genial patriot fire that brightly glowed
In India’s mighty heart, and flamed and flowed
Forth from her Army’s thousand victories won.

E. FARLEY OATEN

This poem was written about 1947. It was printed and published by
the author in a collection of his poems entitled “Song of Aton and
other Verses” in 1967. A holograph copy of the poem was presented to
the Netaji Research Bureau by the author in June 1969.
 APPENDIX 8

SCOTTISH CHURCH COLLEGE

PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY

[ Minutes of meetings as recorded by Subhas Chandra Bose, fourth

year honours student in philosophy and Secretary of the Society,
in 1918 ] *

The fifth meeting of the Society came off on the 7th of March with Prof.
K. D. Chatterjee in the chair. Mr. M. L. Himatsingka read an interesting
paper on the “Origin of Evil”. The essayist tried to look at the problem
from the theistic standpoint, leaving other points to shift as best as they
could for themselves. He said that we are not made machines, so we
■want freedom of will. There must be various possibilities to choose and
herein the possibility of sin lies.
Many critics rose to address the meeting. Almost all of them contend¬
ed that as inscrutable are the yays of God we cannot fully know why
God created sin and evil. “Wait and see” should be our motto.
The President then, in the course of a very beautiful speech, said
that tve must not hold with Pascal that every change of climate means
change of morality, but there is an absolute ideal. Now if we deeply
consider the fact that the most High was capable of creating us good
then the question which puzzles all is why God in that case created evil
at all? We must, to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion, fully endorse the
views of Schopenhauer and Hartmann that evil is not really evil but
‘partial evil is universal good’. Evil is a means to something good. As
Leibnitz puts it, “Evil is a metaphysical necessity; the world is the best
possible world with the presence of evil and we can by no means know
what form a better world would take”. With a vote of thanks the meet¬
ing broke up.
We offer a cordial welcome to the students who have recently joined
the Third Year Class and have taken up philosophy. It would sit very
well upon them to make a point of attending the meetings of the above
Society, and as philosophy will stand with all its ctiarms before them,
we are looking forward confidently for their co-operation to make this
Society a brilliant success.

Subhas Chandra Bose

Secretary

* Published in the Scottish Church College Magazine, July 1918.

 APPENDIX 271

September 1918

PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY

Since our last report we have been able to hold four meetings. There
has always been a large attendance and what delights us most is the
enthusiasm of our third year friends.
“Faith and Reason” was the subject of the first meeting and Mr.
Kiran Kumar Bhattacharya was the essayist. The essayist held that reason
could at least give us scientific knowledge but scientific knowledge was
all based on hypothesis and could not give us the whole truth regarding
the nature of the world. Faith alone could give us a solution of the
ultimate problems of life, and without faith morality and religion were not
possible. There was a very interesting discussion and the President wound
up the proceedings with an excellent address. Religion, he held, comes
through faith but should be justified by Reason. Faith and Reason are not
contradictory but they are simply different ways of approaching the same
truth.
In the next meeting, Mr Jadunath Das read his paper on “Who is
the Father of Modern Philosophy?” —and Dr. Urquhart was in the chair.
The essayist first enumerated the main characteristics of Modern Philosophy
and proceeded to examine how far Bacon or Descartes possessed them.
Because philosophy, he said, was void of content and his method also
was faulty. His contribution was negative. Descartes’s philosophy had
a positive content and he treated almost all the problems of modern
philosophy.
Consequently Descartes ought to be regarded as the founder of Modern
Philosophy. After a lively fight between Baconians and Cartesians, the
President’s speech came as a reconciliation. According to the President,
Bacon and Descartes must be taken together to be the Fathers of Modern
Philosophy.
The subject of the next debate was “The Philosophical Basis of
Indian and European Civilization”. Mr. Binoy Rakhit was the essayist
and Prof. Ewan was in the chair. The essayist tried to maintain that
the Indian civilization was essentially spiritualistic whereas European
civilization was materialistic. The abuse of sciene was in great measure
responsible for this in Europe. He hoped that the civilization of the
future would be a harmonious blending of Indian and European culture.
It was urged by the critics that it was not fair to hold that India had
neglected the material aspect and Europe the spiritual aspect of civilization.
The synthesis of spiritual and material interests had been attempted both
here and in Europe. The President said that European civilization was
based not on Materialism but on Christianity. The performance of so-
called secular duties was in fact the service of God.
The fourth meeting, since the opening of this session, came off on
6th September, Dr. Urquhart presiding. Mr. Subhas Chandra Bose read
his paper on ‘A Defence of Idealism’. The essayist supports Idealistic
Monism of the Hegelian tvpe but differed from Hegel and Schopenhauer
in conceiving of the Absolute not as pure Reason or pure Will but as
272 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

Spirit in all its fulness, striving through all the processes of the world
to rise into the bliss of self-consciousness in the life of man. He held
that such a view could reconcile both Science and Religion and supple¬
ment the popular and scientific conception of things with the metaphysical.
Mr. M. L. Himatsingka read his criticism of the paper and an in¬
teresting discussion followed. The President in his closing speech referred
to two difficulties in a Hegelian type of philosophy (1) The relation be¬
tween eternity and time, (2) the freedom of the human will.
With a vote of thanks to the chair the meeting broke up.

Subhas Chandra Bose

Secretary
 REFERENCES AND GLOSSARY

Abanindranath—Abanindranath Tagore, well-known Bengali painter

Adwaitacharya—the great Vaishnava who anticipated the appearance of
Shri Chaitanya
Ahalya Bai—Holkar Queen (1765-1795) known for her piety and admini¬
strative ability
Ami—Sarat Chandra Bose’s second son Amiya
Arabinda—Arabinda Mukherji, a student worker of the Jugantar party in
its early days
Ashu Babu—Ashutosh Mukherji (Sir), the then Vice-Chancellor of Calcutta
University.

iBabu—Bengali Hindu gentleman

Baidyanath (dham)—a place of pilgrimage in Bihar
Balananda—Swami Balananda, a well-known Sadhu who had his monastery
in Deoghar, Bihar
Ballali Kulabidhi—rules prescribed by Ballal Sen of Bengal for the different
castes of Hindu Society
Bardidi—eldest sister Pramila
Bardada—eldest brother Satish Chandra Bose
Bartaman Bharat—Swami Vivekananda’s work entitled India Today
Basumati—a Bengali daily and monthly publication
Belur—a town near Calcutta where monasteries of the Ramakrishna Mission
are situated
Belghurria—a town near Calcutta
Beni Babu—Beni Madhav Das, Head-Master, Ravcnshaw Collegiate school,
Cuttack, when Netaji joined it
Bharatvarsha—a Bengali periodical
Bidhu—Bidhu Bhusan Roy (Dr.), later Khaira Professor of Physics, Calcutta
University
Bijaya—the immersion day of Goddess Durga
Bimal—eldest son of eldest sister Pramila
Bolpur—the village in West Bengal where Tagore established his ‘Santi-
Niketan’
Bowdidi—sister-in-law (elder brother’s wife)
Brahmin, Brahman—one belonging to the priest caste
Brahmachari—one practising self-control
Brahmacharya—the practice of self-control
Brahmananda—Swami Brahmananda, a direct disciple of Ramakrishna
Paramhansa

Capt. Gray—Commanding Officer, University Unit of India Defence Force

(1917)
Chaitanya (Shri)—the greatest Vaishnava saint (1485-1533)
Chandi—Book of psalms glorifying Goddess Durga
 274 NETAJI .* COLLECTED WORKS

Charu—Charu Chandra Ganguly, fellow-student and friend of Netaji

Choto Mamima—youngest maternal aunt
Chotdada—brother Dr. Sunil Chandra Bose
C. Cozajee (Professor)—Head of the department of Economics, Presidency
College
Cuttack—the former capital city of Orissa where Netaji was born

Dada—elder brother
Dakshineshwar—a place near Calcutta by the Hooghly river well-known for
the Kali Temple where Ramakrishna worshipped
Darshan—divine audience
Dcoghar—a place of pilgrimage in Bihar (the same as Baidyanathdham)
Dharma—religion
Dharmapala—a great king of Bengal who ruled towards the end of first
century A.D.
Dhiren—Dhirendra Nath Dhar, a contemporary of Netaji in Cambridge
Didi—eldest sister Pramila
Durga—Hindu goddess
Durga Bati—Rajput Queen (sixteenth century) known for her beauty and
valour

Girish, Girishda—Girish Banerjee

Gita—or Bhagavat-Gita contains the essence of Hindu philosophy and may
be regarded as the Bible of the Hindus
Goari—home town of Hemanta Kumar Sarkar in Nadia, West Bengal
Godavari—a river in South India
Gopali—younger brother Sailesh Chandra Bose
Gurudev—religious preceptor

Hemendu—Hemendu Sen, a friend of Netaji’s younger days

Hardwar—a place of pilgrimage in Uttar Pradesh
Haripada—Haripada Vishnu
Hazaribagh—a town in Bihar
Hem Babu—Hem Sarkar, Professor of English, Ravenshaw College, Cuttack
Hemkut Parbat—a Himalayan peak tinged with bright red (gold)

Jagadish Babu—Jagadish Chandra Bose, the eminent scientist

Jamai Babu—brother-in-law, elder sister’s husband
Jugalda—Jugal Kishore Adhya (Dr.)

Kali—Hindu goddess
Kanchi Mama—maternal uncle Satyendra Nath Dutt (Dr.)
Kashi—the holy city of Benaras
Khandagiri—historic caves near Bhubaneshwar, Orissa
Khatriya—the warrior caste
Krishnagar—a town in West Bengal
Kulapratha—the custom of a family
Kulasastra—family rules
 REFERENCES AND GLOSSARY 275

Kulin—a person of a special social status conferred by Ballal Sen of Bengal

Kunti Devi—the mother of the Pandavas (Mahabharata)
Kurseong—a hill station near Darjeeling
Kusha—one of the twin sons of Rama and Sita (Ramayana)

JLaba—one of the twin sons of Rama and Sita

Lama—Buddhist monk
JLakslimana—half-brother of Rama (Ramayana)
Lily—fourth sister
Lord Hari—another name of Lord Krishna

Madhusudan—Michael Madhusudan Dutt, well-known Bengali poet

Maha-Pandit—a very learned person
Mama—Maternal uncle
Mamima—maternal aunt
Mantra—holy word
Maya—the theory that the world as perceived through the senses is an
illusion
Meera Bai—well-known preacher of the Radha-Krishna cult (fifteenth cen¬
tury)
Mejabowdidi—sister-in-law Bivabati, wife of Sarat Chandra Bose
Mejdada—second brother Sarat Chandra Bose
Mejdidi—second sister Sarala Bala Dey
Alejajamaibabn—second elder sister’s husband

Nada, Nadada—-fourth brother Sudhir Chandra Bose

Nagen Thakur—family priest
Narayana—another name of Lord Krishna
Natun Mamababu—fifth maternal uncle
Nilmoni—Nilmoni Senapati (I.C.S.) a contemporary of Netaji in Cambridge
Nilratan Babu—Nilratan Sircar (Sir), an eminent Calcutta physician

Panda—a priest attached to a temple

Panchabati—the forest in Deccan where Rama, Sita and Lakshmana spent
part of their exile (Ramayana)
Pandit—a learned person
Parija (Prankrishna)—Netaji’s contemporary who later became a well-
known scientist
Pishamahasaya—paternal uncle
Prafulla—Netaji’s contemporary who later became a doctor
Prafulla Chandra—Prafulla Chandra Ray (Sir) well-known Bengali chemist
and philanthropist
Priya Ranjan—Priya Ranjan Sen, Netaji’s contemporary who later became
Professor of English, Calcutta University
Pramatha—Pramatha Nath Sarkar, a contemporary of Netaji
Pro na ms—obei sa n ce
Puja—worship
P.R.S.—Premchand Roychand Scholarship (Calcutta University)
276 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

Rabindranath—Rabindra Nath Tagore

Raghua—family gardener at Cuttack
Rakshasa—a monster
Raja of Aal—the head of a native State in Orissa
Rama—the principal character in the Ramayana
Ramayana—Hindu epic
Ramakrishna—Ramakrishna Paramhansa, the great Hindu saint
Ramkrishna Mission—Religious Order founded bv Swami Vivekananda
Rangamamababu—maternal uncle, Birendra Nath Dutt
Rancn Mama—maternal uncle, Ranendra Nath Dutt
Rishi—a sage

Sadhana—spiritual exercise
Sama Veda—the third of the four Vedas
Sankaracharya—the great Hindu philosopher (eighth century^
Sannyasi—a monk
Santipur—a town in West Bengal
Sarada— the oldest family maid who looked after Netaji in childhood
Saroj Babu—Sarojendra Kumar Dutt, fourth brother-in-law of Netaji
Sati—Youngest brother Santosh Chandra Bose
Satyen Dhar—elder brother of Dhiren Dhar
Satyen Mama—maternal uncle Satyendra Nath Dutt (Dr.)
Sealdah—one of the railway stations of Calcutta
Sejajamaibabu—third elder sister’s husband Radha Binode Roy (Dr.)
Sejdada—third elder brother Suresh Chandra Bose
Sejdidi—third elder sister
Senchal—a beauty spot near Darjeeling
Sita—the consort of Rama (Ramayana)
Shiva—Hindu God, consort of Parvati
Sloka—psalm
Sudra—one of the four castes in old Hindu society
Sureshda—Suresh Chandra Banerjee (Dr.) well-known political leader of
later davs
j

Surhit—Surhit Chandra Mitra (Dr.)

Snshil Dey—Dr. Sushil Dey, Senior Professor of English and later Head of
the Department of Sanskrit, Dacca University

Taraporewalla (Dr.)—Professor of Comparative Philology, Calcutta Uni¬

versity

Udaigiri—historic caves near Bhubaneshwar, Orissa

Valmihi—the Hindu sage who wrote the Ramayana

Vaishya—one of the four castes of old Hindu society
Vaishnava—the Hindu sect who worship God as Love in the form of
father and protector
Vedas— the ancient Hindu scriptures

Yoga—union with Godhead; the word is used to indicate the goal as well
as the means
Yogi—one who practises Yoga
 INDEX

Adhya, Jugal Kishore (J.K.A.), 58, Bose, Bivabati (Mejabowdidi), 132

194, 195, 197 Bose, Damodar, 247
Adjustment between the individual Bose, Dasaratha, 3, 10, 247, 251
and Society, 170 Bose, Devendra Nath, 10, 19
Adwaitacharya, 134 Bose, Gadadhar, 248
Agnosticism, 54; benevolent kind of, Bose, Professor Girish Chandra, 244
120 Bose, Gopinath (Purandar Khan), 7,
Albert School, 18 8, 9, 10, 247-254
Anath Bhandar of South Calcutta, Bose, Govinda (Gandharva KhanC
64 248
Andrews, C. F., 195 Bose, Gunakar, 247
Anglo-Afghan War, 96 Bose, Hangsha, 247
Ary a, 62 Bose, Haranath, 10, 244
Arya Samajist, 70 Bose, Rai Bahadur Hari Vallabh, 12r
Aryans, 139, 142 244
Asquithian Policy, 226 Bose, Janakinath (father), 3-4, 10,.
Autocracy, 170 11-12, 31, 50, 81, 82, 93, 110-
‘Awkward Squad’, 9 112, 130, 137, 154, 157, 158, 171,
191, 210, 244-246
Bose, Sir Jagadish Chandra, 58, 179,.
Babu, 136 180, 202
Bacon, 119, 271 Bose, J. N., 193
Bahadur Shah, 15 Bose, Dr. J. N., 13
Balananda (Swami), 158 Bose, Jadunath, 10
Ballali Kulabidhi, 249 Bose, Jatindra Nath, 252, 243
Bardada, See Bose, Satish Chandra Bose, Kaliprasanna, 10
Bartaman Bharat, 206 Bose, Kamalabhusan, 259
Banerjee, Girish Chandra, (Girishda), Bose, Dr. Kartick Chandra, 252
163, 164, 202 Bose, Kedarnath, 10
Banerji, Satkari, 10 Bose, Krishna (Sree Krishna Biswas),
Banerjea Dr. Suresh Chandra, 46, 7, 247, 251
58, 163-164, 182, 197 Bose, Lakshman, 247
Banerji, Sir Surendra Nath, 64, 115, Boses of Mahinagar, 7, 240
233 Bose, Mukti, 7, 247
“Barbarian”, 262 Bose, Mahipati (Subuddhi Khan), 7,
Basumati, 130 247, 248, 251
Bates (Mr. B.), 108, 207 Bose, Parama, 7, 247
Beni Babu, see Das, Beni Madhav Bose, Prabhabati (Prabhavati, mo¬
Bengalees (49th), 88 ther), 3-5, 11-12, 49-50, 85, 111,
Bentinck, 16 114, 128-148, 154, 157, 159, 244
Bentham, 37 Bose, Sarat Chandra (Mejdada), 89,
Bergson, Henri, 119, 124 93, 107-117, 127, 131, 141, 145,
Bharatvarsha, 197 148-156, 206, 210, 217-229, 230, 245-
Bhattacharya, Kiran Kumar, 271 Bose, Satish Chandra, 116
Bhattacharya, Pandit Shyama Nath, Bose, Sukti, 247
24 Bose, Suresh Chandra, 245
Bidhu, see Roy, Dr. Bidhu Bhusan Bose, Sureshwar, 248
Bismarck, 105 Bose, Upcndra Nath, 13
Biswas, Suresh, 46 Bose, Vishnu, 248
Bonar Law, 101 Basu Mullick, Amrita Krishna, 252
Bose, Ananta, 247 Bottomley, Horatio, 101
Bose, Asoke (Asoka), 217 Brahmananda, Swami, 71
Bose, Biren, 151 Brahmo Samaj, 9, 15-17, 19
Bose, Bhabanath, 247 Buddha, Lord Gautam, 62, 119, 177
Bose, Chuni Lai, 13 Burke, Edmund, 115, 233
278 NETAJI : COLLECTED WORKS

Cadogan (Miss), 22 Freedom, change in the concept of,

"“Care of Horses in India’, 116 169-170
Catholic-Protestant Controversy in
Ireland, 15 Gandhi, Mahatma, 18, 64, 72, 115,
Cavour, 105 234, 235
Chaitanya, Shri, 134 Ganguly, Charu Chandra (Charu),
Chakravarti, Aghor, 9 197, 205, 230
Chakravarti, Byomkesh, 244 Gauba, K. L., 103
Chakravarti, Harikumar, 10 Ghosh, Chandra Nath, 13
Chakravarti, Kalikumar, 9 Ghosh, Professor R. N., 267
Christ, 231 Ghose, Arabindo, 18, 61, 62, 63; his
Chatterji, Bankim Chandra, 20 conception of Yoga, 63-64; 111,
Chatterjee, Professor K. D., 270 112, 219, 222
Chatterji, Sunitikumar (Suniti Babu), Ghose, Barindra Kumar, 61
195, 197 Gilchrist, 260
Clynes, 101 Girishda, see Banerjee, Girish Chan¬
Contacts and associations with Mus¬ dra
lims, 49 Ghose, Prafulla (Prafullada), 197
Cromwell, 115, 233 Gita, 140, 141
Coronation of King George V, 45 Gopali (Sailesh Chandra Bose), 218
Cozajee, (Professor), 204 Gray (Captain), 91, 92, 188, 189
Curzon, Lord, 107 Gupta, Suresh Ch., 156
Cuttack Union Club, 11 Gurukul University, 59

Dakshin-Rarhi Clan, 7 Hakim, 47

Dalton, Dr. Hugh, 101 Hampden, 115, 233
Das, Beni Madhav (Beni Babu), 32, Haranath Library, 245
33, 34, 46, 159, 160, 185, 197, 199 Hare School, 257, 267
Das, C. R., Ill, 115, 210-214, 218, Hartmann, von, 124, 270
235 Hatha-Yoga, 40
Das, Gopabandhu, 245 Hegel, 124, 167, 271
Das, Jadunath, 271 Hem Babu, See Sarkar. Professor
Dass, Sunder, 103 Hem
Datta, Sarojendra Kumar, 217 Hemendu, See Sen, Hemendu
Deb, Raja Benoy Krishna, 18 Hemkut Parbat, 153
Descartes, 53, 271 Hindu School, 257, 267
Dey, Dr. Sushil, 203 Home Rule, 107, 113, 224
Dhar, Bharat Ch., 194 Horniman, B. G., 201, 202
Dhar (Mrs.), 201 Hornwell, W. W., 254
Dhar, Dhiren, 194 Hossain Shah (Sultan), 8, 248
Dharmapala, 180
Durga Bati, 144 Indian Majlis, 99, 103, 104, 195, 201
Duke, Sir William, 115, 116, 236 Indian National Congress, 11, 2t3,
Dutts of Hatkhola, 3, 12, 242 215 916 945
Dutt, Ganganarayan, 12, 13, 244 India’Officef 107, 219, 229
Dutt, Kashinath, 12, 244 Irving, 149
Dutt, Michael Madhusudan, 17, 176
Dutt, R. C. (Ramesh Dutt), 110, Jagatbandhu, 131
111, 207, 219 Jallianwalla Bagh massacre, 96
Dutt, Dr. Satyendra Nath, 157, 158 James, H. R., 76; his amour propre
Dutt, Urnesh Chandra, 11, 244 hurt, 78; 185, 233, 258, 259, 260
Dutta Gupta, 163, 199, 201, 203 Jesuit, 118, 175
Dyer (General), 101, 102 Jnanda,182
Johnson, Jack, 91
Eden Hindu Hostel, 58, 262, 265 Jugalda (Jugal), See Adhya, Jugal
Emerson, 121 Kish ore
Evolutionary process in nature. Va¬
rious theories of. 124 Kalidas, 35
Ewan (Professor), 271 Kamala incident, 261
Kamini Charitable Dispensary, 245
Eort William, 92 Kant, 119; philosophy of, 168
 INDEX 279
Kavirajes (or Vaids), 47 Nature-worship, 36
Kaviram’s Raymangal, 8, 252 Neo-Vivekananda group, 58-61
Kayastha Patrika, 247 Nilmoni (Nilmoni Senapati), 189
Khan, Ishan, 7, 248 Nitya Leela, Vaishnavic conception
Khan, Purandar, See Bose, Gopinath of Eternal Play, 122
Khan, Subuddhi, See Bose, Mahipati Nivedita, Sister, 37
Kulin, 8, 247
Kunti, Devi, 132 Oaten (Professor), 76-79, 233, 254,
Kusha, 139 257, 258-260, 267, 268
O’dwyer, 101
Laba, 139 Olympus, 153
Lakshmana, 138 Oriental indifference, 199
Lawrence, Sarah, 22
Panchabati, 138
Leibnitz, 270
Panchanan, 259
Lodge, 169
Love, the essential nature of reality, Parija, Prankrishna, 205
122-124 Partition of Bengal, 45, 62
Peake, C. W., 254
Loyala, Ignatius, 118, 171
Lytton, Earl of, 103, 104 P. E. School, 21, 23, 32, 45, 72
Philosophical Society, Scottish
Macaulay, Thomas Babington—his Church College, 270-271
Pope, 173
Minute on Education, 16
Mahabharata, 35 Presidency College, 51-80, 99, 254-
266
Mahasandhi-bigrahika, 248
Protestants, 175
Mahinagar Samaj, 247-254
Mondal, 189
‘Manik’, 62 Qualified Monism, theory of, 119;
Maitra, Herambachandra, 254, 263 Ramakrishna’s agreement with it,
119
Majhi (a Santal student) 84, 85
“March of the blanketeers’’, 62 ‘Ragging’, 99
Materialism, 54 Rakhit, Binoy, 271
McTaggart (Professor), 99 Raja of Aal, 131
Mecra Bai, 144 Raja-Yoga, 40
Metternich, 105 Rajen Babu, 190
Mill, 37 Rama, 138
Mitchell, Rev. J., 254 Ramayana, 138, 139
Mitra, Jogendra Narayan, 192, 196 Ramakrishna, Paramahansa, 18, 38,
Mitra (Mrs.), 201 39, 41, 44, 46, 51, 55, 58, 70, 122,
Mitra, Dr. Mrigen, 201 159, 162
Mitra, Sarada Charan, 247 Ramakrishnadas Babaji, 70
Mitra, Dr. Surhit Chandra (Surhit), Ravenshaw College, H, 244
200 Ravenshaw Collegiate School, 29
Mitter, Sir Benode C., 12 Ray (Mrs), 201
Mitter, Manmatha, 12 Ray, Sir Prafulla Chandra, 18, 58,
Mitter, Sir Pravas, 12 65, 76, 244
Mitter, Sir Romesh Chandra, 12 Reddaway, 98, 114, 230
Montagu, E. S., 103, 229 Renaissance and Reformation, 16
Morality—Non-political, 20 Roberts, 115, 116, 117, 236
Morning, Post, 106 Rogers, Leonard, 98
Mosely, Sir Oswald, 101 Roy, Dr. Bidhu Bhusan (Bidhu), 182
Moulik, 8 Roy, Bholanath, 189, 191
Mukherji, Sir Asutosh, 79, 88, 184, Roy, Dilip Kumar, 20
254 Roy, D. L., 20
Mukherjee, F. M., 193 Roy, M. N., 10
Mullick, Dr. D. N., 76 Roy, Dr. P. K., 205
Mullick, Dr. S. K., 90 Roy, Raja Ram Mohan, 15-16
Muslim rule, a misnomer, 15 Roy, Sudhir, 154
Myers (Professor), 99
Saktas, 10, 119
Nachiketa, 37 Santiniketan (Tagore’s), 59
Naidu, Sarojini, 195, 201 Sarada, 129, 141
 280 NETAJI: COLLECTED WORKS

Saraswati, Dayananda, 70 Tagore, Maharaja Jatindra Mohan,

Sarkar, Hemanta Kumar, 156, 190, 18
192, 194, 196, 198, 200, 202 Tagore, Rabindranath, 60, 151, 176,
Sarkar, Pramathanatha, 194, 197, 212 207
Saroj Babu, See Datta, Sarojendra Tarkachuramani, Sasadhar, 17
Kumar Tarkapanchanan, Ramnarayan, 252
Sarvadhikari, Dr. Suresh Ch., 90 Tattwabodhini Patriha, 9
Sati (Santosh Chandra Bose), 218 Tennvson, 155
“Satyavadi Vidyalaya”, 245 Teojo Kulin, 248
Satycn Mama, See Dutt, Dr. Satyen¬ Thakur, Anukul Chandra, 245
dra Nath Thakur, Nagen, 129
S. (Miss), 22 Theosophical Lodge, 12
Schopenhauer, 270, 271 Taraporewalla (Dr.), 203
Schwegler’s History of Philosophy, Tilak, B. G., 18, 61, 106, 107
175, 191 Tolstoy, 115, 234
Scottish Church College, 11, 89 Truth, nature of, 120-122
Self-analysis, the practice of, 86-88
Sen, Hemendu, 197 Union Society, 99, 101
Sen, Keshav Chandra, 11, 16, 19, University Officers’ Training Corps,
34, 244 103
Sen, Krishna Vihari, 11, 244 Upanishads, 37, 38
Sen, Priyaranjan, 197 Urquhart, Dr., 89, 90, 271
Shankaracharya, 69, 70, 71;
his doctrine of Maya, 63, 73, 118, Vaishnavas, 8, 10. 12, 119
121 Valmiki, 138, 176
Sankhya Philosophy, 124 Vedanta, 48, 75
Shastri, Shivnath, 9 Vendantavageesh, Ananda Chandra,
■Shiromani, Bharat Chandra, 9 9
Simon, Sir John, 101 Vidyabhusan, Dwarakanath, 9, 252
Sinha (Lord), 226 Vidvasagar, Pandit Iswar Chandra,
Sirajudowla, the Nawbab of Bengal, 17, 18, 19
15 Vishnu, Haripada, 157
Sircar, Dr. Sir Nilratan (Nilratan Vivekananda, Swami, 18, 37, 38, 40,
Babu), 131 44; his mission to bring about a
Sita, 138 reconciliation between science and
Sorely (Professor), 99 religion, 48; 50, 51, 55, 58, 63,
Spencer, 124; his theory of freedom, 71, 121, 155, 159 169, 206
164
W., (Mr.), 89
■Sureshda, See Banerjea, Dr. Suresh
War Office, 103, 104
Chandra
Webb (Captain), 154
Webb (Mrs.), 154
Tagore, Abanindranath, 176 Wordsworth, 35
Tagore, Devendranath (Maharshi),
16, 159 Young, Mr. Sc Mrs., 22, 24-25
.
 AN INDIAN PILGRIM
AN UNFINISHED AUTOBIOGRAPHY
SUBHAS CHANDRA BOSE

Subhas Chandra Bose’s ‘discovery of India’, unlike Jawaharlal

Nehru’s, occurred very early in life, when he was barely in his teens.
‘How many selfless sons of the Mother are prepared, in this selfish
age,’ the fifteen-year-old Subhas asked his mother in 1912, ‘to
completely give up their personal interests and take the plunge for the
Mother? Mother, is this son of yours yet ready?’ As he stood on the
verge of taking the plunge by resigning from the Indian Civil Service
in 1921, he wrote to his elder brother Sarat: ‘Only on the soil of
sacrifice and suffering can we raise our national edifice.’
In December 1937 Bose wrote ten chapters of his autobiography,
providing a narrative of his life until 1921 and a reflective chapter
entitled ‘My Faith-Philosophical’. It is not often that remembrances
written later in life can be read together with primary source materials
of the earlier, formative phases.
The autobiography is complemented with a fascinating collection of
seventy letters of Bose’s childhood, adolescence and youth. This
volume thus supplies the material with which to study the influences
— religious, cultural, moral, intellectual and political— that moulded
the character and personality of India’s foremost radical nationalist.

Sisir K. Bose is Director of the Netaji Research Bureau, Calcutta and

President, Institute of Child Health, Calcutta.
Sugata Bose is Professor of History and Diplomacy and Director,
Centre of South Asian and Indian Ocean Studies, Tufts University,
USA.

Oxford India Paperbacks ISBN DLBSbMma-S

Oxford University Press

780195 641486