Bose - Immortal Legend of India's Freedom: Contemporary Critical Orientations : Netaji Trail: The Bose Particle by Anurag Mallick & Priya Ganapathy and Emilie Schenkl: In Letter and Spirit by Sunita Rani Ghosh

Re-Markings Special Number January 2017

Netaji Trail: The Bose Particle

Anurag Mallick & Priya Ganapathy

Subhash Chandra Bose travelled from Calcutta to Peshawar as an insurance agent called Mohammed Ziauddin. As Khan Mohammed Ziauddin Khan, a mute tribal Pathan, he travelled on foot and by mule to Kabul. In the guise of a radio telegraphist and an Italian count Orlando Mazzotta, he reached Germany, met Hitler and eventually took a submarine halfway around the world to Japan to raise an army in the hope of liberating India from the yoke of British rule. There are many heroes who fought for India’s independence, but few as enigmatic as Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose. We retrace his incredible journey from Kolkata to Kabul, Berlin to Burma and across the Far East – Japan, Vietnam, Singapore, Taiwan and North East India to the Andaman & Nicobar Islands....

As a young radical returning from Cambridge to Calcutta, Bose quit the Indian Civil Service in 1921 and rose to the post of president of the Indian National Congress by 1938. In 1939, he showed up on a stretcher and despite being unwell, defeated Mahatma Gandhi’s candidate Pattabi Sitaramayya. Differences with Gandhiji on his revolutionary ideals led to Bose being ousted from the Congress. After a hunger strike led to his release from prison, he was put under house arrest by the British.

With the outbreak of World War II in 1939, Bose saw it as an opportune moment to wrest freedom from the British. Indian support to the colonial cause during World War I in the hope of getting independence had yielded nothing except Jallianwala Bagh and the Rowlatt Act. The time had come for more direct action and Bose could go to any length to see India free – even shake hands with the devil if he had to. He believed in the maxim, “An enemy of an enemy is a friend of mine” and sought help of the Axis powers Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan to oust the British.

Accompanied by his nephew Sisir, Bose escaped British surveillance on 19 January 1941 in a car that is now on display at his home in Kolkata’s Lala Lajpat Rai Sarani. Run as a memorial and research center, Netaji Bhavan also houses relics of Bose’s footprints. He crossed the Indian subcontinent from east to west, reaching Peshawar and Kabul. British presence in the area made him travel under disguise as he finally reached Germany on April 1941, where the leadership seemed sympathetic to the cause of India’s independence. In November 1941, with German funds, a Free India Centre was set up in Berlin, and soon Bose was broadcasting every night on Free India Radio.

A 3,000-strong Free India Legion, comprising Indians captured by Erwin Rommel's Afrika Korps was formed to aid in a possible future German land offensive of India. Few know that the title “Netaji” was given to Bose in Germany by Indian soldiers of the Indische Legion in 1942. The title was used by the German and Indian officials in the Special Bureau for India in Berlin, before it gained popularity in India.

Meanwhile, the Japanese occupied Singapore and by January 1942, Rangoon was the next to fall. On 23 March 1942, Japanese troops landed in Port Blair and captured it without firing a single shot. By spring, changing German priorities and Japanese victories in the Far East made Bose think of moving to southeast Asia. Bose met Hitler only once in late May 1942 and the Fuhrer arranged for Bose to be transported by submarine. On 8 February 1943, Netaji boarded the German submarine U-180 from Kiel and travelled around the Cape of Good Hope to the southeast of Madagascar, where he was transferred to the Japanese submarine I-29. This was the only civilian transfer between two submarines of two different navies during World War II. Bose finally disembarked at Sabang in Japanese-held Sumatra in May 1943.

If the term “Netaji” was coined in Germany, equally surprising is the fact that the Indian National Army (INA) was the brainchild of Japan! Japanese major and chief of intelligence Iwaichi Fujiwara met Pritam Singh Dhillon, president of the Bangkok chapter of the Indian Independence League, and recruited Mohan Singh, a captured British Indian army captain to raise an army that would fight alongside the Japanese. It had the blessings of Rash Behari Bose, head of the Indian Independence League. The first army was formed in December 1941 and the name INA was mutually chosen in January 1942. In February, from a total of 40,000 Indian personnel in Singapore, about 30,000 joined the INA, of which nearly 7,000 later fought Allied forces in the Burma Campaign and at Kohima and Imphal.

However, disagreements led to the first INA being disbanded by December 1942. Mohan Singh believed that the Japanese High Command was using the INA as a pawn and propaganda tool. He was taken into custody and the troops returned to the prisoner-of-war camp. However, with the arrival of Subhash Chandra Bose in 1943, the idea of an independence army was revived. In May, Bose travelled via Penang and Saigon to Tokyo, where he attended the Diet, met reporters and gave speeches addressing overseas Indians that were broadcast on Tokyo Radio. By July, Bose was in Singapore and it was with equal excitement that we arrived there on the INA trail.

As we drove past Dhobie Ghaut, the guide pointed out Cathay Cinema (earlier, the Greater East Asia Theatre), where the India Independence League’s Assembly of Representatives met on a drizzly morning of 4^th July. To a resounding applause, Rash Behari Bose handed over the reins of the organization to Subhash Chandra Bose. Over the next few days, soldiers of the INA lined up in the padang (ground) opposite the Singapore Municipal Office for inspection and new recruits eagerly joined the ranks.

With Japanese support, Bose revamped the Indian National Army (INA), composed of Indian soldiers of the British Indian army captured in the Battle of Singapore. Bose received massive support among the expatriate Indian population in south-east Asia as many Indian civilians from Malaya and Singapore enlisted. Those who could not, made financial contributions. The INA also had a separate women's unit – the first of its kind in Asia. The Rani of Jhansi Regiment was headed by Capt. Lakshmi Swaminathan, a doctor from Chennai.

The India Heritage Centre in Little India has a small section dedicated to the Indian freedom movement. A bust of Subhash Chandra Bose stands in front of a wallpaper made of INA postage stamps. The INA troops were under the aegis of the Provisional Government of Free India (Azad Hind) formed in October 1943, which had its own currency, postage stamps, court and civil code, and was recognized by nine Axis states. An INA uniform was on display while letters, cheque donations and photographs lined the wall. A magazine cover showed Captain Lakshmi in military attire.

The Provisional Government, presided by Supreme commander Bose, was formed in the Japanese-occupied Andaman and Nicobar Islands. On 30th December 1943 Netaji hoisted the Indian tricolor in British-free Indian territory for the first time at Ross Island. The Andaman and Nicobar Islands were renamed Shaheed Dweep (Martyr Island) and Swaraj Dweep (Self-Rule Island). As head of the government, Bose stayed in the British High commissioner’s house and a memorial commemorating his visit was erected near present day Netaji stadium in Port Blair.

We followed the Bose trail past World War II bunkers dotting the island to Cellular Jail. When Netaji visited the infamous prison, he was welcomed by Admiral Ishikawa, who deliberately kept him away from incarcerated Indians and stories of Japanese torture. Like Singapore, the three year Japanese occupation of the Andamans was a dark chapter in history with innocent islanders tortured mercilessly on charges of espionage, often executed or imprisoned. Like the Changi prison, the Cellular Jail too bears testimony to the bravery of those fighting for freedom.

In early 1944, the INA marched through Kohima Pass and the national flag was hoisted in the Indian mainland for the first time at Moirang in Manipur on April 6, 1944. Kohima was strategically located on the lone road connecting the British supply depot at Dimapur (40 miles northwest) to Imphal (80 miles south). As part of Japan’s Operation U-Go, three columns aimed to cut off the Kohima-Imphal Road and surround Kohima. Between April and June 1944, Kohima witnessed the bloodiest and grittiest fighting seen in World War II.

The Battle for Kohima was fought in two phases: the 13-day siege from 4 April and clearing Japanese forces from mid-April to 22 June to reopen the Kohima-Imphal road. Both sides suffered high casualties. Grenades were lobbed at point blank range across the tennis court in “unending snowball fights” as soldiers dug holes to burrow or tunnel forward using plates, mugs, bayonets or anything they could lay their hands on. The carefully tended tombstones in the grassy clearing with pretty flower beds seemed a far cry from the bloodbath of World War II. The original Deputy Commissioner’s (DC) Bungalow was destroyed in the fighting and the historic tennis court could be distinguished only by the white concrete lines denoting the boundaries.

The 161^st Indian Infantry Brigade’s stand at Kohima blunted the Japanese attack. With the opening of the Dimapur-Kohima road, the 2^nd Division and troops from XXXIII Corps supported the counterattack in early May. General Sato, Commander of the 31^st Division, ordered Japanese withdrawal, signaling the biggest Japanese defeat in history. British and Indian troops from Kohima and Imphal met at Milestone 110 on 22 June, formally ending the siege. The fierce hand-to-hand combat in the Battle of Kohima was a defining moment in the Burma Campaign and halted Japan’s foray into India. Near the entrance of Kohima War Memorial, the Kohima Epitaph bears the immortal words: “When you go home, tell them of us and say; For your tomorrow, we gave our today.”

Despite the reverses on the battlefield, Bose travelled across Penang, Rangoon and Saigon, mobilizing support among Indian expatriates to fight the British Raj. He had great drive and charisma and he coined popular Indian slogans such as “Jai Hind”, “Chalo Dilli” and “Give me blood and I shall give you freedom”, which he said in a motivational speech at a rally in Burma on 4 July, 1944.

By 1945, almost half the Japanese forces and the INA contingent were killed. A vast number of INA troops were captured, defected or fell into British hands during the Burma campaign by March end. By the time Rangoon fell in May 1945, the INA was driven down the Malay Peninsula and disintegrated although some activities continued until Singapore was recaptured by the British. On 8 July, in Singapore’s Esplanade Park, Bose laid the foundation stone for a hastily-built memorial dedicated to the unknown fallen soldiers of the Indian National Army. On it were inscribed the proud motto of the INA – Etihaad (Unity), Etmad (Faith), Kurbani (Sacrifice).

Instead of surrendering with his forces or with the Japanese, Bose chose to escape to Manchuria in the Soviet Union, which he felt was turning anti-British. Taking off from Taihoku airport at Formosa in Taiwan, his overloaded plane crashed and he died from third degree burns in a military hospital nearby on 18 August, 1945. However, Bose was known for his miraculous escapes and dramatic appearances in the past. From eluding house arrest in Calcutta and his escape to Afghanistan and Europe under various aliases to his submarine journey from Germany to Singapore; his past exploits fuelled the myth of his future return.

To the Japanese, he was no less than an Indian samurai. Some believed he had become a sanyasi (holy man) called Gumnami Baba. According to various stories, he was seen as a recluse in the Naga hills or on an abandoned island, was a member of a Mongolian trade delegation in Peking, was hibernating in Russia or in a gulag (prison) and was spotted in the Chinese Army. Most believed he was preparing for his final march on Delhi and would reveal himself when the time was right. There were several Bose sightings, one even claiming he met Bose “in a third-class compartment of the Bombay Express on a Thursday.”

Though INA’s military achievements were limited and the British Raj was never seriously threatened by it, the psychological impact was immense. Indian troops fought on both sides at the Battle for Kohima –  Jats, Rajputs, Sikhs, Marathas and Gurkhas under the Allied forces versus soldiers of Bose’s Azad Hind Fauj. Had the eastern offensive through Burma and North East by Japan been coordinated with the German advance through Egypt, Iran and Iraq, a war on two frontiers would have stretched the British forces. A Japanese-INA victory and unfurling of the Indian flag could have prompted the Indian sepoy to switch loyalties. Even in defeat, the INA managed to ignite a revolt within the British Indian army.

Several former personnel of the British Indian Army, captured fighting in INA ranks or working in support of the INA’s subversive activities, were court-martialed. The British charged 300 INA officers with treason and the first joint trial of Shah Nawaz Khan, Prem Sahgal and Gurubaksh Singh Dhillon took place at Red Fort in Delhi. All three were sentenced to deportation for life. The INA trials led to huge public outcry and became a rallying point. It was the last major campaign where the Congress and the Muslim League aligned together. Immense public pressure, widespread opposition and demonstrations eventually led to the release of all three defendants.

Besides the protests of non-cooperation and non-violence, there was a spate of mutinies as support within the British Indian Army wavered. During the trials, mutiny broke out across the Royal Indian Navy from Karachi to Bombay and Vizag to Calcutta. In Madras and Pune, British garrisons faced revolts within the ranks of the British Indian Army as NCOs started ignoring orders from British superiors. Another mutiny took place at Jabalpur during the last week of February 1946.

There were several factors that guided British prime minister Clement Attlee to relinquish the Raj in India, but the most important reason was the INA activities of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, which weakened the Indian Army – the very foundation of the British Empire in India. The Royal Indian Navy Mutiny made the British realize that the Indian armed forces could no longer be trusted to prop up the Raj.

When Singapore was recaptured in 1945, Lord Mountbatten, Head of Southeast Asia Command, ordered the INA War Memorial to be blown to bits. It was partly an act of vengeance for the pain the allies suffered in Imphal and Burma as well as an attempt to stamp out proof of INA’s existence. After the war, fearing mass revolts and uprisings across its empire, the British Government forbade the BBC from broadcasting the epic tale of the INA. In 1995, to commemorate the 50^th anniversary of the end of World War II, the National Heritage Board of Singapore marked the spot of the original INA memorial as one of the eleven World War II historic site markers.

As we walked down Esplanade Park in Singapore, we struggled to find vestiges of the INA Memorial. The Cenotaph of the British Indian Army stood tall in honour of “Our Glorious Dead” of the two World Wars. Further down, a Chinese memorial commemorated Singapore war hero and resistance fighter Lim Bo Seng. Yet, there was no sign of INA – just a few stone slabs with peepholes. Often relegated as a footnote in history and denied the importance in the story of India’s freedom movement, was a memorial too much to ask? A local passing by noticed our perplexed look and kindly explained, “There was a signboard, but they’ve recently removed it for renovation.” We breathed a sigh of relief. Mountbatten may have demolished the original memorial, but the spirit of Bose and the INA live on...

Back home in India, the stories surrounding Netaji had always been shadowed by mystery and controversy for decades. Imagine, it was only on 14^th October 2015 that the Government of India under Prime Minister Narendra Modi announced that it would declassify the famous “Netaji Papers”. Two months later, the whole country watched the broadcast of the event when the first lot of 33 declassified files were handed over by the PMO’s office to the National Archives of India. It was an emotional moment for several members of Netaji’s family and his admirers as the gesture promised to fill the many gaps and loopholes in tracing the legacy of Subhash Chandra Bose. Subsequently, 150 declassified files of the 250 files are now in public domain. Time and again, Netaji has reminded us how he would remain a statesman the world cannot ignore or bury in the dusty pages of history. 

Anurag Mallick and Priya Ganapathy, Travel writing duo and media professionals, are regular contributors to leading magazines and newspapers. They have authored several books for national and international publications and run Red Scarab, a Bangalore-based travel & media outfit specialising in communication solutions for the travel and hospitality industry. They undertook a transcontinental journey in the footsteps of one of India’s most daring freedom fighters for this Special Re-Markings’ Number. Catch their stories on https://redscarabtravelandmedia.wordpress.com. 

 Copyright Nibir K Ghosh 2017

For copy of the Special Number please contact ghoshnk@hotmail.com

Response from Anurag Mallick & Priya Ganapathy:
ast year, out of the blue, Prof Nibir Ghosh from Agra University contacted us saying he was so impressed by our war story on Kohima War Cemetery, he wanted us to write an article on the travels of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose for an international biannual journal. Little did we know it will take the form of a book! Here are pics from the launch of Re-Markings, special issue on Subhash Chandra Bose, launched in Agra by Prof Sugata Bose. Couldn't attend the event, but felt happy to be in the company of professors and academicians in this collection of 'Contemporary Critical Orientations.' ...
Felt honoured that we were invited to contribute an article for 'Bose: Immortal Legend of India's Freedom', a special issue of Re:Markings, an international biannual journal. Pics from the book launch in Agra.

Emilie Schenkl: In Letter and Spirit  

Sunita Rani Ghosh

We often hear, both in context and out of it, the adage that “behind every great man there's a woman.” However, it is usually seen that the woman behind the great man remains either shrouded in mystery or at best relegated to the isolated confines of anonymity. It is precisely with this thought in mind that I intend to focus on the various dimensions of  the woman who made a substantial impact on the personal life of Subhas Chandra Bose who himself, till very recent time, remained in the annals of post-independence Indian history a “Lost” or at best a “Forgotten” Hero.  In this Special Re-Markings’ Number on the legendary luminary who changed the course of the Indian freedom struggle, I consider it imperative that adequate light also be shed on the rare and exemplary personality of Emilie Schenkl (1910-1996).

Subhas came into contact with Emilie Schenkl in 1934 during his European exile in distant Vienna. He was looking for someone who could offer him clerical assistance in taking down notes for his book The Indian Struggle. On June 24, 1934 Emilie came to Subhas to be interviewed for the said position. The casual meeting soon developed into a deep relationship that grew out of mutual admiration and endearment for each other. However, the relationship remained hidden from the gaze of even his close associates. Following their secret marriage on 26 December 1937, their daughter Anita was born on 29 November 1942 in Vienna. In less than three years’ time the joyous family world of Emilie was shattered when she heard the news of Subhas’s death in a plane crash on 18 August 1945. However, before embarking finally on his mission to see India free from British rule, Subhas, anxious about the future course of his life, confided the fact of his marriage to his brother Sarat Chandra Bose in a letter dated 8 February 1943: “Today once again I am embarking on the path of danger. But this time towards home. I may not see the end of the road. If I meet with any such danger, I will not be able to send you any further news in this life. That is why today I am leaving my news here—it will reach you in due time. I have married here and I have a daughter. In my absence please show my wife and daughter the love that you have given me throughout my life. May my wife and daughter complete and successfully fulfil my unfinished tasks—that is my ultimate prayer.”

I may mention at the outset that my word-portrait of Emilie is based not on any official or fictional chronicle of her life but on the twenty odd letters that she wrote to her beloved Subhas between 3 August 1936 and 30 September 1937. These letters have been made available in a book entitled Letters to Emile Schenkl 1934-1942 jointly edited by Sisir Kumar Bose and Sugata Bose. The title of the collection of letters does strikes me as slightly odd since it indicates Emilie as a mere recipient rather than as a co-respondent to the exchange between the two. It may be emphasized that the very fact that the letters that Subhas wrote to Emilie greatly outnumber the ones that Emilie wrote to him (though she wrote to him regularly at least once a week but the letters, unfortunately, are not available) speaks volumes about the sterling quality of Emilie who preserved with so much care the 160 plus letters that Subhas wrote to her between 30 November 1934 and 19 December 1942.

Emilie’s letters, available in the collection mentioned above, though small in number, do offer useful insights into various aspects of her life and personality. As a loving companion of Subhas, she is always deeply concerned about his health and wellbeing, a concern that surfaces in most of her letters to him: “Please take a complete rest and do not, as you are in the habit, strain yourself too much by reading till 3o’clock in the morning. When you are quite well again then you can work. And even then you must not exploit your health, because the more care you take the better work you will be able to do” (Letters 140). Similarly, when he is released from prison, she expresses her delight but also cautions him to be careful about his health as is evident from one of her letters: “I can well imagine that the stream of visitors keeps you busy day and night. One nearly does not get time to take a breath, because people have a terrible skill to occupy one’s time and energy. But I think that when you have the opportunity to go to some health resort, you should do so, get well first and then begin the ‘fight with the dragon’ (called visitors) anew” (Letters 122). In yet another letter written in response to a letter of Subhas wherein he had enclosed his photograph, she wrote: “Well, nearly could not recognize you, not because of the dress, but because you are looking so thin. What a shame! You will have to be very careful now and please do eat plenty, so that you may increase a little. Otherwise I shall be very sorry.” 

One of Emilie’s attributes is the clarity of mind and her rational outlook that come to the fore in many of her philosophical musings. She frankly tells Subhas that though she was interested in spiritual things since she was 12 or 13 years, she had no intention of becoming saintly or “so absorbed in spiritual things, in order to give up the world completely.... First I think it would not do good to give up the world, because in active life one can fulfill a mission, while as a monk or so, one does not fulfill a useful mission. The world as a whole is not yet ripe to penetrate into a more spiritual sphere” (Letters 72). Once when a friend tries to take her to the Krishnamurti camp, she makes it evident that “I think that would not be the right environment for me at present as I do not feel the need to meditate and hear lectures on philosophy and religion. Now is the time for work. Meditating will come when I am older. Now I want work and action”. These statements resonate the idea of commitment and devotion to a worthy that Subhas was endowed with. Though she hailed from a culture that was quite alien to that of Subhas, she was quite liberal in her outlook. Simple and straightforward in nature, she candidly tells him, “I am always for frankness and I can appreciate the frank speech of a friend.” 

Emilie was an ardent lover of nature both for its own sake and for what objects of nature symbolized. In one of her letters she recounts the attraction that she had for nature: “Only a few days ago I had a funny dream that I was in the Himalayan mountains. But it was not Darjeeling. It was somewhere high up near the highest summits and I was so charmed by the beauty of this dream landscape that I was quite sorry when I woke up and beautiful dream was gone….  The high mountains I always compare with a young man who wants to storm the summits of the heaven.” Her preference is for idyllic settings close to nature rather than living in townships that make her feel “like prisoners in the middle of houses…. In the country one does not see so much poorness together as one sees in a town.”  Though she loves the natural surroundings, she often expresses her dread for “cold, ugly, foggy, rainy” weather that gives her a feeling of despair. In a lighter vein she writes, “No, I have not been lying ill, only my usual winter cold and cough. These two are my most faithful friends. They love me so much that they visit me every year and stay the whole winter.” …“I really envy you the sun and the warm weather. We will make a change. You come to Vienna and I go to India.” 

Her letters reveal her avid love for books, magazines and newspapers. She often refers to periodicals like The Review, Anand Bazar Patrika, Illustrated Orient and other magazines that bring to her news from India especially those that give her an update on the activities of Subhas whom she requests to send her “from time to time Indian papers or magazines.” She frankly admits: “I am a terribly curious person” (Letters 98)… I am now getting both the ‘Orient’ and the weekly edition of ‘Patrika’. It is really kind of you, but please let me know the price, because why should you take all this trouble of paying.”  In addition to her love for books, we get to know of her love for music but mainly light rather than the heavy classical variety as reflected in her remark: “I hate heavy music, I cannot digest it. For instance one can drive me out with Wagner’s operas. What I like is light music. Specially the Viennese songs. But I also like peasant songs, or even jazz-music.” 

A careful glance at the available one score letters brings to light not only the abundant and unstinted love she had for Subhas but also for the nation he loved more than his life. In these letters India remains uppermost in her mindful consciousness. In a letter that she wrote to Subhas on the New Year’s Day in 1937, she refers to the way the Germans celebrate the New Year by observing the custom of “Bleigiessen.” In this custom one places in a spoon chunks of lead and holds it over a lighted candle allowing the lead to melt. The molten lead is then quickly poured from the spoon into a container of cold water, where it hardens almost immediately. The shape of the cooled lead determines the future of that person for the year to come. Looking at the object that emerged out of her own “Bleigiessen” experience, Emilie tells Subhas: “I had a very funny thing, looking like a map of India.”  

Through her interaction with Subhas and through the regular exchange of epistles, Emilie was aware of the nuances of Indian culture, traditions, ceremonies and customs. Names of places in India like Calcutta, Dalhousie, Allahabad, Lahore, Darjeeling figure often in her letters and she is keen to know more about such places as she points out: “Of course I can spot out every place on the map. But a map can never give you an idea about the place itself.” She is equally keen to write and publish her writings on India: “I would like to write a few articles about India together with a journalist and put those articles in the Austrian papers. Could you suggest where to get the necessary information? I want to write about things like family life, wedding ceremonies, etc. I just remember now that the Puja festival must be over by now. Allow me to send you Bijoya greetings” (If it is possible that a non-Hindu can send Bijoya greetings). In one letter, written in 1936, she requests him to send her, if possible, “photo of Krishnaji,” and “a legend about Buddha’s life.” She displays her fondness for Indian bangles and asks him to send them to her: “I have already inquired about the bangles but could not get them here. Please do not worry, if you can’t send them, does not matter. I wanted simple glass-bangles of different colouring.” 

Besides knowing German and English she was very fond of learning new languages like French. “If I have more time and money,” she says, “I would learn other languages too.”  On account of Subhas, she loves the Bengali language but admits that she knows hardly anything in that language. She encouraged Subhas to translate into English the books he had written in Bengali: “You told me once you have written two books in Bengali. I forgot the titles… I suggest now that you should translate these books into English, that also people outside Bengal may be able to read them. I would be very interested to read these books, but as I know only three words in Bengali (how are you, good day, what is your name), I think I could never read your books.”  

In many of her letters she has shown appreciation for the fondness and love Subhas had for his mother: “I was very glad to hear that you have been allowed to visit your mother while you stay in Calcutta. It will be a great comfort for you and your mother because a mother is always anxious to see her child, I think.” .… “It is very fine that you can now visit your mother daily. Specially for your mother it will be very good, as she is already old and lonely and so she will be anxious to see as much of you as possible”  The tenderness that she displayed for Subhas in all things big and small shows the essential traits of her humanity.

It is obvious that Emilie may have often dreamt of living in India as Subhas’s wife and compatriot in the independent India of his dreams. But then she may have also been aware that the way to such togetherness was paved with thorns of turmoil that the world then was in. The uncertainty and apprehension of what the future for them would be like would often torment her: “I am doing nothing useful the whole day long except brooding over the gloomy future…. Sometimes I wonder, what for I live at all. There is rather no sense in going on living and still, one is too much of a coward to throw away life.” There is present in her statement a sense of foreboding when she speculates about the future: “…the old year is over now and the new year begins. What will it bring? Will there be a better mend in this world situation or will we still be drawn down deeper into a world mess” (Letters 97). With her intense concern for the safety and wellbeing of Subhas, she has no hesitation in sending him talismans for his safety and protection as she writes in her letter of 17 August 1936: “Enclosed please find a plant… We call it ‘Klee’ and as it has 4 leafs it is a ‘Gluckslee’. Put it in your purse, it shall bring you luck. We say, if one presents you with a ‘Gluckslee’, you have luck. But it must be found by the one who makes the present. I found it myself and as it would not bring luck to myself and I am obliged to give the luck to someone, I send you the luck. Hope, it will really bring luck to you.”

It is quite apparent from even these handful of letters that Emilie had bound herself to Subhas with “hoops of steel” (to use an expression from Shakespeare) perhaps knowing full well that their relationship was not destined for a fairytale ending where one gets married and lives happily ever after. In a letter to Emilie – published in Sugata Bose’s His Majesty's Opponent: Subhas Chandra Bose and India's Struggle Against Empire – Subhas gave expression to his spontaneous passionate love for her:

Even the iceberg sometimes melts and so it is with me now. I can no longer restrain myself from penning these few lines to convey my deep love for you — my darling — or as we would say in our own way — the queen of my heart. But do you love me — do you care for me — do you long for me? You called me 'Pranadhik' — but did you mean it? Do you love me more than your own life? Is that possible?" With us it may be possible —  for a Hindu woman, for centuries, has given up her life for the sake of her love. But you Europeans have a different tradition. Moreover, why should you love me more than your own life? I am like a wandering bird that comes from afar, remains for a while and then flies away to its distant home. For such a person why should you cherish so much love my dearest! In a few weeks I must fly to my distant home. My country calls me —  my duty calls me —  I must leave you and go back to my first love —  my country. I have very little to give to any one. What little I have — I have given you. It may not be worthy of you and of your great love for me — that is all that I have to give.

Though we are not in possession of the letter that Emilie may have written to Subhas in response to the above query, there is no denying that Emilie did love him more than she loved her own life, a fact that is well substantiated by the testimony of Madhuri Bose (daughter of Amiyanath Bose, a nephew of Subhas Chandra Bose) who spent considerable period of time with her aunt Emilie from 1978 to 1996:

In discussions about Subhas, she told me that over the eight or so years that they knew each other, less than three were spent in each other’s company, including their one year of marriage together from January 1942 until just before he boarded a German Navy U-Boat in early February 1943 heading for his historic mission in the Asia/Pacific theatre of war. They were not to see each other again.... When I asked Auntie if she had ever considered marrying again, she said quite simply that that was out of the question, that no other man could match the one she had married. She knew too and readily acknowledged to me that the first love of Subhas was India, and that the imperative of removing the binding chains of British colonialism was an overriding commitment for him. She herself would only have come to India in the company of Subhas.

To conclude my narrative on Emilie, I refer here to a few lines from a poem by the German writer Goethe that Subhas sent to Emilie in a letter requesting her to provide him with the original German version of the lines:

 

Wouldst thou the young years blossom and the fruits of its decline,

And all whereby the soul is enraptured, feasted, fed;

Wouldst thou the heaven and earth in one sole name combine,

I name thee oh Shakuntala! And all at once is said. – Goethe

 

These lines, Subhas mentions to Emilie, were written by Goethe in appreciation of Kalidasa’s Sanskrit play, Abhigyan Shakuntalam. I think if the name of Shakuntala is replaced by the name of Emilie in the poem, it would be a fine tribute from Subhas to a unique human being who loved her in abundant measure and who, unlike King Dushyant in the fable, was not likely to forget her even unto his very end. Emilie too, like Shakuntala, remained very steadfast in her love for Subhas, the love that asked no question, the love that stood the test in allowing him the freedom to offer upon the altar of his nation the dearest and the best. So, let us remember with pride and fondness how a non-Hindu woman from an alien clime and culture could so selflessly devote and dedicate herself, like the legendary Indian women of bygone ages, to her first and only love.

Dr. Sunita Rani Ghosh is Associate Professor in the Department of Hindi Studies & Research at Agra College, Agra. She was Visiting Scholar in the Department of Asian Languages in University of Washington, Seattle, U.S.A. during 2003-04. A UGC JRF, her writings have appeared in reputed journals like Hindi Jagat, Aksar, Purvgreh, Panchsheel Shodh Samiksha, Hindi Anusheelan, Re-Markings etc. Her essay “Bani Rahengi Kitaben,” published by Madhya Pradesh Hindi Granth Academy is prescribed in the Foundation Course for undergraduate students in M.P. Government degree colleges. She has edited Erasing Barricades: Woman in Indian Literature (2010) and Gandhi and His Soulforce Mission (2012).

 

"Foreword" to The Forgotten Ram: Lore and Legend of Sir Chottu Ram by Divyajyoti Singh

The Forgotten Ram: Lore and Legend of Sir Chottu Ram by Divyajyoti Singh (Authorspress, 2015)

FOREWORD

by

Nibir K. Ghosh

When I received a request from the author to write the “Foreword” to this book, I was visibly intrigued. I hadn’t known much about the life and work of the legend the book celebrates. As I leafed through a few pages of the book, one thing that came to the fore was the passionate lyricism of the author in telling the tale of her forgotten hero. I was reminded of a statement made by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.: “Charm was a scheme for making strangers like and trust a person immediately, no matter what the charmer had in mind” (Breakfast of Champions). I was charmed, no doubt, by the hymns of praise that the author displayed for a revolutionary leader hailing from her own community, an icon of undivided Punjab. However, I felt a little diffident in undertaking the task as the persona in question appeared to be remotely located in my consciousness in terms of both space and time.

A bit of biographical research provided the impetus to share the author’s adulation for Sir Chhotu Ram. I learnt that the cult figure was, by profession, an advocate who had lived and studied Law at Agra. Knowing that Law was then taught only at Agra College, Agra, where I was educated and am now teaching, I tried to locate Sir Chhotu Ram in the annals of the college’s history. It was a pleasant experience to learn that he was an alumnus of this College, having taken his LL.B. degree from Agra College in the year 1911. As the Coordinator of Agra College Alumni Association, I thought it would be unfair to shy away from the labour of love that would associate me with a fellow-alumnus.

The book effortlessly glorifies the man and the legend. Mixing history and fiction, reality and imagination, memory and desire, lore and myth, it projects Sir Chhotu Ram as a veritable object of veneration especially for the poor and struggling farmers not only in undivided Punjab but also in the entire northern segment of British India. It was he alone who realized how farmers were relentlessly exploited by money lenders whom he referred to as merciless “Shylocks.” His legal expertise and astuteness are evident from the many landmark legislations he was instrumental in initiating during his consistent struggle to alleviate the sordid plight of farmers and the downtrodden people.

Many of us are familiar with Premchand’s short story, “Sawa Ser Gehu” where Shankar, a poor farmer, borrows sawa ser gehu (wheat) from a money-lender to feed a saint who comes to his house. Consequently, Shankar remains enslaved to the money-lender as a bonded labour. After him, the onus of repaying the debt is transferred to his son. At the end of the story, Premchand says that the reader ought not to dismiss the facts stated in the story as fiction for it was a projection of the grim reality that actually existed in the society of his time. If we fast-forward the situation depicted in Premchand’s story to our own contemporary times, the harsh reality of farmers committing suicide is bound to convince us that the predicament of farmers, to whom we owe our very existence, hasn’t changed much despite the passage of more than three quarters of a century.

The book lucidly recreates how, cutting across class, caste, communal and religious boundaries, Sir Chhotu Ram became the epitome of the struggle for a world where the farmer could live his life with courage and dignity instead of being a mere cog in the economic machine. The book venerates Sir Chhotu Ram as a revolutionary thinker and leader who pioneered an era of unprecedented changes in the socio-economic lives of Punjab farmers. It looks at him as an embodiment of secularism who fought communal politics till the very end of his life. He is portrayed as a visionary for whom setting the farmer free of social, economic and mental slavery always remained a top priority in his scheme of things. In the contemporary context, the author rightly points out how India needs today a man like him to counter powerful moneylenders like “the IMF, the World Bank, and individual donor countries.” His life amply demonstrates how features of character are carved out of adversity. Endowed with a fiery scientific temperament, he was above religious or communal bias: “If the Hindu peasants called him “Ram,” the Muslims considered him a “Pir.” According to a folklore cited in the book,

“In temples they sing of Radha and Shyam

In fields you hear the name of Chhotu Ram!”

It is passing strange that a man of action who constantly strove to transform his vision and mission into attainable realities, a spirited leader who lived in the hearts of millions on account of his dedication to the common cause, has been relegated from the exalted position of historical body text to a passing footnote in contemporary history. I remember having come across a newspaper report stating that during the academic session 2004-05, an inspirational lesson on the Deenbandhu Sir Chhotu Ram prescribed in the Class V curriculum of government schools in Haryana had been unceremoniously withdrawn. After such knowledge what forgiveness!

I congratulate Dr. Divyajyoti Singh for celebrating, through this comprehensive quasi-fictional narrative, the precious life blood of a noble soul that resonated with the agony and anguish of the tillers of the soil. Since there is acute dearth of material on Sir Chhotu Ram, the book is bound to motivate truth-seekers to follow the trail of his footprints that appear to have been obscured by the ebb and flow of time. It is quite likely that the lore of the “forgotten  Ram” may inspire young leaders to move beyond vote bank politics to champion the cause of labourers and the peasantry to create a sublime world where nightmarish realities of “Sawa Ser Gehu” are rendered anachronistic or redundant.

 

About the Book

 

About the Book

The Forgotten Ram: Lore and Legend of Sir Chhotu Ram is a quasi-fictional biography centered on the stalwart peasant leader Chaudhary Chhotu Ram. It is woven out of folklore and oral narratives gathered about him. The book includes about twenty- two chapters spanning his life that illustrate a watershed time in the history of undivided Punjab. The text blends narrative, dialogue, sketches and commentary to imaginatively reconstruct the rural life of Punjab in 1900s. It also illustrates the political scene of the day where Chhotu Ram’s Unionist Party came with a thumping majority, changing the established equation between the farmer and the Raj forever. Though an eminent part of the lore in Haryana, Chhotu Ram has been relegated from mainstream historical accounts. His radical thoughts, rare agenda and the agrarian renaissance he ushered, however, demand to be chronicled.

For Chhotu Ram, reforms could have a lasting character, only if the farmer changed too. He brought in momentous legislations monitoring the economic and social life of the day. He was unfazed by serious and offensive opposition that tried to stall his programme. Furthermore, he urged the farmer to assume the role of a forerunner rather than a mere follower in the freedom movement. His arch-antagonist was not a person but the system of ‘compound interest’ that fleeced the farmer, but there was also Jinnah on the horizon slowly closing-in. Chhotu Ram perceived his destructive potential and undertook a blitzkrieg march from Peshawar to Hodal that should have concluded in a grand rally at Lyallpur (Faizlabad, in current Pakistan), had he lived. The fate took an unfortunate turn and after Chhotu Ram’s death due to high fever and fatigue, Jinnah was able to make a rapid headway in Punjab politics, breaking the secular bond that Chhotu Ram, Mian Fazli Hussain, Sir Sikandar Hayat Khan, and Khizr Hayat Khan had built dedicatedly over decades. 


- Dr. Divyajyoti Singh teaches English at the YMCA University of Science & Technology, Haryana.

In 2008 and 2014 two plays written by her on the life of the ‘Deenbandhu’ were also performed by student amateurs from Nehru College, Faridabad and YMCA University, Faridabad. She runs a blog on Sir Chhotu Ram: sirchhoturamforfarmers.blogspot.com and is an ardent admirer of the great man. This book is her dream project.