Sri Aurobino's account of his
experiences as an undertrial prisoner in Alipore Jail,
On Friday, May 1, 1908, I was
sitting in the Bande Mataram office, when Shrijut Shyamsundar Chakravarty
handed over a telegram from Muzaffarpur. On reading it I learned of a bomb
outrage in which two European ladies had been killed. In that day's issue of
the "Empire" I read another news item that the Police Commissioner
had said that he knew the people involved in the murder and that they would
soon be put under arrest. At that time I had no idea that I happened to be the
main target of suspicion and that according to the police I was the chief
killer, the instigator and secret leader of the young terrorists and
revolutionaries. I did not know that that day would mean the end of a chapter of
my life, and that there stretched before me a year's imprisonment during which
period all my human relations would cease, that for a whole year I would have
to live, beyond the pale of society, like an animal in a cage. And when I would
re-enter the world of activity it would not be the old familiar Aurobindo
Ghose. Rather it would be a new being, a new character, intellect, life, mind,
embarking upon a new course of action that would come out of the ashram at
Alipore. I have spoken of a year's imprisonment. It would have been more
appropriate to speak of a year's living in a forest, in an ashram, hermitage…
The only result of the wrath of the British Government was that I found God.
On Friday night I was sleeping
without a worry. At about five in the morning my sister rushed to my room in an
agitated manner and called me out by name. I got up. The next moment the small
room was filled with armed policemen; Superintendent Cregan, Mr. Clark of
24-Parganas, the charming and delightful visage of familiar Sriman Benod Kumar
Gupta, a few Inspectors, red turbans, spies and search witnesses. They all came
running like heroes, pistols in hand, as though they were besieging, with guns
and cannon, a well-armed fort. I heard that a white hero had aimed a pistol at
my sister's breast, but I did not see it. I was sitting on my bed, still
half-asleep, when Cregan inquired, "Who is Aurobindo Ghose, is that
you?" I answered, "Yes. I am Aurobindo Ghose." Immediately he
ordered a policeman to put me under arrest. Then, because of an extremely
objectionable expression used by Cregan, there was a little exchange of words
between the two. I asked for the search warrant, read and signed it. Finding a
mention of bombs in the warrant I understood that the presence of these
soldiers and policemen was connected with the Muzaffarpur killing. The one
thing I did not understand was why, even before any bombs or explosives had
been discovered in my house, I was arrested in the absence of a body warrant.
But I did not raise any useless objections. Afterwards, under instructions from
Cregan, my arms were handcuffed, and a rope tied round my middle. An upcountry
constable stood behind me holding the rope end. Just then the police brought in
Shrijut Abinash Bhattacharya and Shrijut Sailen Bose, hand-cuffed and rope
round the midriff. Nearly half an hour after, I do not know at whose bidding,
they removed the rope and the handcuff. From Cregan's words it seemed as if he
had entered into the lair of some ferocious animal, as if we were uneducated, wild,
lawbreakers, and that it was unnecessary to speak or behave courteously towards
us. But after the sharp exchange the sahib grew a little milder. ...
I recollect Mr. Clark looking long
and suspiciously at the sacred earth from Dakshineshwar that had been kept in a
small cardboard box; he suspected it might be some new and terribly powerful
explosive. In a sense Mr. Clark's suspicions were not ungrounded. In the end
the decision was reached that it was a piece of earth which it was unnecessary
to send to the chemical analyst. …
At Lal Bazar on the ground floor in
a spacious room we two were kept together. Some snacks were served. After a
while two Englishmen entered the room, later I was told that one of them was
the Police Commissioner, Mr. Halliday himself. Finding us both together
Halliday was wrathful with the sergeant, and pointing towards me he said,
"Take care that nobody stays or speaks with this man." …
The whole of Sunday was passed in the lock-up. There was a staircase in front
of my room. In the morning I found a few young lads coming down the stairs.
Their faces were unfamiliar, but I guessed that they too had been arrested in
the same case. …
Later I came to learn that my
lawyer had sought permission from the Commissioner to have my food sent from
home, but to this, Mr. Halliday did not agree. I also heard that the accused
were forbidden to consult their lawyer or attorney. …
From Mr. Thornhill's court we were taken in a carriage to Alipore. … We were
detained for a little while at the Alipore magistrate's court, but we were not
presented before the magistrate … from the court we went to the jail, and were
surrendered to its officers. Before entering the jail precincts we were given a
bath, put into prison uniform, while our clothes, shirts, dhotis and kurtas
were taken away for laundry. The bath, after four days, was a heavenly bliss.
After that they took us to our respective cells. I went into mine and the doors
were closed as soon as I got in. My prison life at Alipore began on May 5. Next
year, on May 6, I was released.
My solitary cell was nine feet long
and five or six feet in width; it had no windows, in front stood strong iron
bars, this cage was my appointed abode. Outside was a small courtyard, with
stony grounds, a high brick wall with a small wooden door. On top of that door,
at eye level, there was a small hole or opening. After the door had been bolted
the sentry, from time to time, peeped through it to find out what the convict
was doing. But my courtyard door remained open for most of the time. There were
six contiguous rooms like that, in prison parlance these were known as the `six
decrees'.`Decrees' stood for rooms for special punishment—those who are condemned to
solitary imprisonment by the orders of either the judge or the jail
superintendent have to stay in these mini-caves. Even in such solitary
confinement there is the rule of caste or hierarchy. Those who are heavily
punished have their courtyard doors permanently closed; deprived of contacts
with the rest of the human world their only point of relation with the outside
world is restricted to the vigilant eyes of the sentry and the fellow-convict
who brings his food twice a day. Since Hemchandra Das was looked upon as being
a greater terror for the criminal investigation department than I, he had been
given this strict regimen. But in the solitary cell too there are
refinements—handcuffs and iron rings round one's hand and foot. This highest
punishment is meted out not only for disturbing the peace of the prison or playing
rough but also if one is found frequently slack in prison labour. …
Such was the place where we were lodged. As for fittings our generous
authorities had left nothing to be desired so far as our hospitable reception
was concerned. One plate and bowl used to adorn the courtyard. Properly washed
and cleansed my self-sufficing plate and bowl shone like silver, was the solace
of my life. In its impeccable, glowing radiance in the `heavenly kingdom' in
that symbol of immaculate British imperialism, I used to enjoy the pure bliss
of loyalty to the Crown. Unfortunately the plate too shared in the bliss, and
if one pressed one's fingers a little hard on its surface it would start flying
in a circle, like the whirling dervishes of
Among household utilities there
were also a small bucket, a tin water container and two prison blankets. The
small bucket would be kept in the courtyard, where I used to have my bath. In
the beginning I did not suffer from water scarcity, though that happened later
on. At first the convict in the neighbouring cowshed would supply water as and
when I wanted it, hence during the bathing recess amidst the austerities of
prison life I enjoyed every day a few moments of the householder's luxury and
love of pleasure. The other convicts were not so fortunate, the same tub or
pail did for the w.c., cleaning of utensils and bath. As undertrial prisoners
this extraordinary luxury was allowed to them, the convicts had to take their
bath in a bowlful or two of water. … Before that in course of my long battle
with thirst I had achieved a thirst-free state. In this blazing room two prison
blankets served for my bed. There was no pillow, I would spread one of these as
mattress and fold the other as a pillow, and I slept like that. When the heat
became unbearable I would roll on the ground and enjoy it. Then did I know the
joy of the cool touch of Mother Earth. But the floor's contact in the prison
was not always pleasing, it prevented the coming of sleep and so I had to take
recourse to the blanket. The days on which it rained were particularly
delightful. But there was this difficulty that during rain and thunder, thanks
to the danse macabre (tāndava
nritya) of the strong wind, full of dust, leaf and grass, a small-scale
flood would take place inside my little room. After which there was no
alternative but to rush to a corner with a wet blanket. Even after this game of
nature was over, till the earth dried one had to seek refuge in reflection
leaving aside all hope of sleep. …
This description of the Alipore government hotel which I have given here, and
will give still more later, is not for the purpose of advertising my own
hardship; it is only to show what strange arrangements are made for undertrial
prisoners in the civilised British Raj, what prolonged agony for the innocent.
The causes of hardship that I have described were no doubt there, but since my
faith in divine mercy was strong I had to suffer only for the first few days;
thereafter—by what means I shall mention later—the mind had transcended these
sufferings and grown incapable of feeling any hardship. That is why when I
recollect my prison life instead of anger or sorrow I feel like laughing. When
first of all I had to go into my cage dressed in strange prison uniform, and
notice the arrangements for our stay, this is what I felt. And I laughed within
myself. Having studied the history of the English people and their recent
doings I had already found out their strange and mysterious character. …
After the jailor had seen to the blankets and the plates and bowl and left, I
began to watch, sitting on the blanket, the scene before me. This solitary
confinement seemed to me much better than the lock-up at Lal Bazar. There the
silence of the commodious hall with an opportunity to extend its huge body,
seems to deepen the silence. Here the walls of the room seemed to come closer,
eager to embrace one, like the all pervading Brahman. There one cannot even
look at the sky through the high windows of the second storey room, it becomes
hard to imagine that there are in this world trees and plants, men, animals,
birds and houses. Here, since the door to the courtyard remains open, by
sitting near the bars one could see the open spaces and the movement of the
prisoners. Alongside the courtyard wall stood a tree, its green foliage a sight
for sore eyes. The sentry that used to parade before the six `six decree'
rooms, his face and footsteps often appeared dear like the welcome steps of a
friend. The prisoners in the neighbouring cowshed would take out in front of
the room the cows for grazing. Both cow and cowherd were daily and delightful
sights. The solitary confinement at Alipore was a unique lesson in love. Before
coming here even in society my affections were confined to a rather narrow
circle, and the closed emotions would rarely include birds and animals. I
remember a poem by Rabibabu in which is described, beautifully, a village boy's
deep love for a buffalo. I did not at all understand it when I read it first, I
had felt a note of exaggeration and artificiality in that description. Had I
read that poem now, I would have seen it with other eyes. At Alipore I could
feel how deep could be the love of man for all created things, how thrilled a
man could be on seeing a cow, a bird, even an ant.
The first day in prison passed off
peacefully. … That night I went to bed early, but it was no part of the prison
regulations to be allowed to enjoy undisturbed sleep, since this might encourage
a love of luxury among the prisoners. Hence there is a rule that every time
sentries are changed, the prisoner has to be noisily disturbed and till he
responds to their cries there is no respite. …
Next morning at four-fifteen the prison bell rang, this was the first bell to
wake up the prisoners. There is a bell again after sometime, when the prisoners
have to come out in file, after washing they have to swallow the prison gruel
(lufsi) before starting the days' work. Knowing that it was impossible to sleep
with the bells ringing every now and then, I also got up. The bars were removed
at five, and after washing I sat inside the room once again. A little later
lufsi was served at my door step, that day I did not take it but had only a
vision of what it looked like. It was after a few days that I had the first
taste of the `great dish'. Lufsi, boiled rice, along with water, is the
prisoner's little breakfast. A trinity, it takes three forms. On the first day
it was Lufsi in its Wisdom aspect, unmixed original element, pure, white,
Shiva. On the second, it was the Hiranyagarbha aspect, boiled along with
lentils, called kedgeree, yellowish, a medley. On the third day lufsi appeared
in its aspect of Virat, a little mixed with jaggery, grey, slightly fit for
human consumption. I had thought the Wisdom and the Hiranyagarbha aspects to be
beyond the capacity of average humanity and therefore made no efforts in that
direction, but once in a while I had forced some of the Virat stuff within my
system and marvelled, in delightful muse, about the many-splendoured virtues of
British rule and the high level of western humanitarianism. …
That day I took my bath at half past eleven. For the first four or five days I
had to keep wearing the clothes in which I had come from home. At the time of
bathing the old prisoner-warder from the cowshed, who had been appointed to
look after me, managed to procure a piece of a yard and half long, and till my
only clothes did not dry I had to keep wearing this. I did not have to wash my
clothes or dishes, a prisoner in the cowshed would do that for me. Lunch was at
eleven. To avoid the neighbourhood of the basket and braving the summer heat I
would often eat in the courtyard. The sentries did not object to this. The
evening meal would be between five and five-thirty. Then on the door was not
permitted to be opened. At seven rang the evening bell. The chief supervisor
gathered the prisoner-warders together and loudly called out the names of the
inmates, after which they would return to their respective posts. The tired
prisoner then takes the refuge of sleep and in that has his only pleasure. It
is the time when the weak of heart weeps over his misfortune or in anticipation
of the hardships of prison life. The lover of God feels the nearness of his
deity, and has the joy of his prayer or meditation in the silent night. Then to
these three thousand creatures who came from God, victims off a miserable
social system, the huge instrument of torture, the Alipore Jail, is lost in a
vast silence. …
I have described my mental state on
the first day of solitary confinement. For a few days I had to be without books
or any other aid to spend the period of forced isolation. Later on Mr. Emerson
came and handed over to me the permission to get some clothes and reading
material from home. After procuring from the prison authorities pen and ink and
their official stationery I wrote to my respected maternal uncle, the
well-known editor of Sanjibani, to
send my dhoti and kurta, among books I asked for the Gita and the Upanishads.
It took a couple of days for the books to reach me. Before that I had enough
leisure to realise the enormity or dangerous potentiality of solitary
confinement. I could understand why even firm and well-developed intellects
crack up in such a state of confinement and readily turn towards insanity. At
the same time, I could realise God's infinite mercy and the rare advantage
offered by these same conditions. Before imprisonment I was in the habit of
sitting down for meditation for an hour in the morning and evening. In this
solitary prison, not having anything else to do, I tried to meditate for a
longer period. But for those unaccustomed it is not easy to control and steady
the mind pulled in a thousand directions. Somehow I was able to concentrate for
an hour and half or two, later the mind rebelled while the body too was
fatigued. At first the mind was full of thoughts of many kinds. Afterwards
devoid of human conversation and an insufferable listlessness due to absence of
any subject of thought the mind gradually grew devoid of the capacity to think.
There was a condition when it seemed a thousand indistinct ideas were hovering
round the doors of the mind but with gates closed; one or two that were able to
get through were frightened by the silence of these mental states and quietly
running away. In this uncertain dull state I suffered intense mental agony. In
the hope of mental solace and resting the overheated brain I looked at the
beauties of nature outside, but with that solitary tree, a sliced sky and the
cheerless prospects in the prison how long can the mind in such a state find
any consolation? I looked towards the blank wall. Gazing at the lifeless white
surface the mind seemed to grow even more hopeless, realising the agony of the
imprisoned condition the brain was restless in the cage. I again sat down to
meditate. It was impossible. The intense baffled attempt made the mind only
more tired, useless, made it burn and boil. I looked around, at last I found
some large black ants moving about a hole in the ground, and I spent sometime
watching their efforts and movements. Later I noticed some tiny red ants. Soon
there was a big battle between the black and the red, the black ants began to
bite and kill the red ants. I felt an intense charity and sympathy for these
unjustly treated red ants and tried to save them from the black killers. This
gave me an occupation and something to think about. Thanks to the ants I passed
a few days like this. Still there was no way to spend the long days ahead. I
tried to argue with myself, did some deliberate reflection, but day after day
the mind rebelled and felt increasingly desolate. …
Troubled by mental listlessness I
spent a few days in agony in this manner. One afternoon as I was thinking streams
of thought began to flow endlessly and then suddenly these grew so uncontrolled
and incoherent that I could feel that the mind's regulating power was about to
cease. Afterwards when I came back to myself, I could recollect that though the
power of mental control had ceased, the intelligence was not self-lost or did
not deviate for a moment, but it was as if watching quietly this marvellous
phenomenon. But at the time, shaking with the terror of being overcome by
insanity, I had not been able to notice that. I called upon God with eagerness
and intensity and prayed to him to prevent my loss of intelligence. That very
moment there spread over my being such a gentle and cooling breeze, the heated
brain became relaxed, easy and supremely blissful such as in all my life I had
never known before. Just as a child sleeps, secure and fearless, on the lap of
his mother, so I remained on the lap of the World-Mother. From that day all my
troubles of prison life were over. … It was for this reason that God had brought
about this situation or experience. Without turning me mad he had enacted in my
mind the gradual process towards insanity that takes place in solitary
confinement, keeping my intelligence as the unmoved spectator of the entire
drama. Out of this came strength, and I had an excess of kindness and sympathy
for the victims of human cruelty and torture. I also realised the extraordinary
power and efficacy of prayer.
During the period of my solitary
confinement Dr. Daly and the Assistant Superintendent would come to my room
almost every day and have a little chat. From the beginning, I do not know why,
I had been able to draw their special favour and sympathy. I did not speak much
with them, but just answered only when they asked something. If they raised any
issues I either listened quietly or would stop after speaking a few words. Yet
they did not give up visiting me. One day Mr. Daly spoke to me, "I have
been able, through my Assistant Superintendent, to get the big boss to agree
that every day, in the morning and evening, you will be allowed to take a walk
in front of the decree. I do not like that you should be confined throughout
the day in a small cell, it's bad for both body and mind." From that day
on I would take a stroll everyday in the morning and evening in the open space
before decree. In the afternoons it would be for ten, fifteen or twenty
minutes, in the morning for an hour; at times I would stay out for two hours,
there was no time limit about it. I enjoyed this very much. On one side were
the jail industries, on the other, the cowshed — my independent kingdom was
flanked by these two. From the industrial section to the cowshed, from the
cowshed to the industrial section, travelling to and fro I would recite the
deeply moving, immortal, powerful mantras of the Upanishads, or watching the
movements and activities of the prisoners I tried to realise the basic truths
of the immanent Godhead, God in every form. In the trees, the houses, the
walls, in men, animals, birds, metals, the earth, with the help of the mantra:
All this is the Brahman, (sarvam khalvidam
Brahma), I would try to fix or impose that realisation on all of these. As
I went on doing like this sometimes the prison ceased to appear to be a prison
at all. The high wall, those iron bars, the white wall, the green-leaved tree
shining in sunlight, it seemed as if these common-place objects were not
unconscious at all, but that they were vibrating with a universal
consciousness, they love me and wish to embrace me, or so I felt. Men, cows, ants,
birds are moving, flying, singing, speaking, yet all is Nature's game; behind
all this is a great pure detached spirit rapt in a serene delight. Once in a
while it seemed as if God Himself was standing under the tree, to play upon his
Flute of Delight; and with its sheer charm to draw my very soul out. Always it
seemed as if someone was embracing me, holding me on one's lap. The
manifestation of these emotions overpowered my whole body and mind, a pure and
wide peace reigned everywhere, it is impossible to describe that. The hard
cover of my life opened up and a spring of love for all creatures gushed from
within. Along with this love such sāttvik
emotions as charity, kindness, ahimsā,
etc., overpowered my dominantly rājasik
nature and found an abundant release. …
At first I tried to continue the
inner life while sitting in the court-room, but the unaccustomed mind would be
attracted to every sound and sight, and the attempt would not succeed, in the
midst of the noise going on all round. Later the feelings changed and I
acquired the power to reject from the mind the immediate sounds and sights, and
draw the mind inwards. But this did not take place in the early stages, the
true power of concentration had not developed then. For that reason, giving up
the futile attempt, I would be content with seeing, now and then, God in all
creatures, for the rest I would observe the words and behaviour of my
companions in adversity, else think of other things, or sometimes listened to
Mr. Norton's valuable remarks or even the evidence of witnesses. I found that
while spending one's time in solitary imprisonment had grown easy and pleasant,
it was not that easy in the midst of the crowd and in the life-and-death game
of a serious case. I greatly enjoyed the laughter, the jollities and the
pleasantries of the accused lads, else the time spent at the court appeared
wholly annoying. At four-thirty I would happily get into the police van and
return to the prison. …
At that period I was unwilling to
be in the midst of a crowd, for my spiritual life, sādhanā, was proceeding at a rapid pace. I had tasted a little of
Equality, Non-attachment and Peace, but these states had not been yet fully
stabilised. By being in company, the pressure of other men's thought-waves on
my unripe young ideas, this new state of being might suffer, or be even washed
away. In fact, it did happen like that. Then I did not understand that for the
fullness of my spiritual experience it was necessary to evoke opposite
emotions, hence the Inner Guide, antaryāmin,
suddenly deprived me of my dear solitude, flung me into the stream of violent
outward activity. The rest of the group went wild with joy. That night the big
room in which singers like Hemchandra Das, Sachindra Sen, etc., were staying,
most of the accused persons collected there, and no one could sleep till two or
three in the morning. The ring of laughter, the endless stream of singing, all
the pent-up stories began to flow like swollen rivers during the rainy season.
The silent prison reverberated with noise and merriment. We fell asleep but
every time we woke up we heard the laughter, the singing, the conversation
going on as before. Towards the small hours the stream thinned, the singers too
fell asleep. Our ward was silent once again.
