Sri Aurobindo for All Ages

VIII: “Karmayogin” - Chandernagore - Pondicherry (1909-1910)

AFTER his acquittal, Sri Aurobindo wrote a letter to the Editor of the Bengalee, a popular daily newspaper of thattime, to express his gratitude to all those who had sent in contributions to the fund opened by his sister Sarojini for his legal defence. The letter is beautifully worded, simple yet moving. Here is the text:

Sir,

Will you kindly allow me to express through your columns my deep sense of gratitude to all who have helped me in my hour of trial? Of the innumerable friends known and unknown, who have contributed each his mite to swell my defence fund, it is impossible for me now even to learn the names and I must ask them to accept this public expression of my feeling in place of private gratitude; since my acquittal many telegrams and letters have reached me and they are too numerous to reply to individually. The love which my countrymen have heaped upon me in return for the little I have been able to do for them, amply repays any apparent trouble or misfortune my public activity may have brought upon me. I attribute my escape to no human agency, but first of all to the protection of the Mother of us all who has never been absent from me but always held me in Her arms and shielded me from grief and disaster, and secondarily to the prayers of thousands which have been going up to Her on my behalf ever since I was arrested. If it is the love of my country which led me into danger, it is also love of my countrymen which has brought me safe through it.

Aurobindo Ghose
6, College Square, May 14, 1909

As a result of his profound spiritual experiences, Sri Aurobindo came out of the jail a completely changed person. But the situation outside had also changed radically. The Bande Mataram had come to a stop during his absence. Tilak had been sentenced to six years' imprisonment and banished to Burma. The Government had clamped down on the Nationalists and the revolutionaries with ruthless force. There was simmering discontent below the. surface but it could not find expression except in stray acts of violence and terrorism.

On May 30, 1909, Sri Aurobindo delivered his historic speech at Uttarpara, from which I have already given you extracts relating to his spiritual experiences in jail. At Uttarpara ten thousand people listened to him in pin-drop silence in a spiritually surcharged atmosphere. He began by contrasting the situation before his arrest with what he now saw. He said: 'It was more than a year ago that I came here last. When I came I was not alone; one of the mightiest prophets of Nationalism sat by my side.... Now he is far away, separated from us by thousands of miles. Others whom I was accustomed to find working beside me are absent. The storm that swept over the country has scattered them far and wide.... When I went to jail the whole country was alive with the cry of Bande Mataram, alive with the hope of a nation, the hope of millions of men who had newly risen out of degradation. When I came out of jail I listened for that cry, but there was instead a silence. A hush had fallen on the country and men seemed bewildered; for instead of God's bright heaven full of the vision of the future that had been before us, there seemed to be overhead a leaden sky from which human thunders and lightnings rained. No man seemed to know which way to move, and from all sides came the question, "What shall we do next? What is there that we can do?" I too did not know which way to move, I too did not know what was next to be done. But one thing I knew, that as it was the Almighty Power of God which had raised that cry, that hope, so it was the same Power which had sent down that silence. He who was in the shouting and the movements was also in the pause and the hush. He has sent it upon us, so that the nation might draw back for a moment and look into itself and know His will. I have not been disheartened by that silence, because I had been made familiar with silence in my prison and because I knew it was in the pause and the hush that I had myself learnt this lesson through the long year of my detention.'

Then Sri Aurobindo related the experiences which were vouchsafed to him in the Jail and said that they had revealed to him the truth of the Hindu religion. He said: realised what the Hindu religion meant. We speak often of the Hindu religion, of the Sanatana Dharma, but few of us really know what that religion is.

' ...day after day, He showed me His wonders and made me realise the utter truth of the Hindu religion. I had had many doubts before. I was brought up in England amongst foreign ideas and an atmosphere entirely foreign. About many things in Hinduism I had once been inclined to believe that they were imaginations, that there was much of dream in it, much that was delusion and Maya. But now day after day I realised in the mind, I realised in the heart, I realised in the body the truths of the Hindu religion. They became living experiences to me, and things were opened to me which no material science could explain. When I first approached Him, it was not entirely in the spirit of the Bhakta, it was not entirely in the spirit of the Jnani. I came to Him long ago in Baroda some years before the Swadeshi began and I was drawn into the public field.

‘When I approached God at that time, I hardly had a living faith in Him. The agnostic was in me, the atheist was in me, the sceptic was in me and I was not absolutely sure that there was a God at all. I did not feel His presence. Yet something drew me to the truth of the Vedas, the truth of the Gita, the truth of the Hindu religion. I felt there must be a mighty truth somewhere in this Yoga, a mighty truth in this religion based on the Vedanta. So when I turned to the Yoga and resolved to practise it and find out if my idea was right, I did it in this spirit and with this prayer to Him, "If Thou art, then Thou knowest my heart. Thou knowest that I do not ask for Mukti, I do not ask for anything which others ask for. I ask only for strength to uplift this nation, I ask only to be allowed to live and work for this people whom I love and to whom I pray that I may devote my life." I strove long for the realisation of Yoga and at last to some extent I had it, but in what I most desired I was not satisfied. Then in the seclusion of the jail, of the solitary cell I asked for it again. I said, "Give me Thy Adesh. I do not know what work to do or how to do it. Give me a message." In the communion of Yoga two messages came. The first message said, "I have given you a work and it is to help to uplift this nation. Before long the time will come when you will have to go out of jail; for it is not my will that this time either you should be convicted or that you should pass the time, as others have to do, in suffering for their country. I have called you to work, and that is the Adesh for which you have asked. I give you the Adesh to go forth and do my work." The second message came and it said, "Something has been shown to you in this year of seclusion, something about which you had your doubts and it is the truth of the Hindu religion. It is this religion that I am raising up before the world, it is this that I have perfected and developed through the Rishis, saints and Avatars, and now it is going forth to do my work among the nations. I am raising up this nation to send forth my word. This is the Sanatana Dharma, this is the eternal religion which you did not really know before, but which I have now revealed to you. The agnostic and the sceptic in you have been answered, for I have given you proofs within and without you, physical and subjective, which have satisfied you. When you go forth, speak to your nation always this word, that it is for the Sanatana Dharma that they arise, it is for the world and not for themselves that they arise...."

‘...But what is the Hindu religion? What is this religion which we call Sanatana, eternal? It is the Hindu religion only because the Hindu nation has kept it, because in this Peninsula it grew up in the seclusion of the sea and the Himalayas, because in this sacred and ancient land it was given as a charge to the Aryan race to preserve through the ages. But it is not circumscribed by the confines of a single country, it does not belong peculiarly and for ever to a bounded part of the world. That which we call the Hindu religion is really the eternal religion, because it is the universal religion which embraces all others. If a religion is not universal, it cannot be eternal. A narrow religion, a sectarian religion, an exclusive religion can live only for a limited time and a limited purpose.'

These wonderful words from the Uttarpara Speech help us to understand the inspiration behind Sri Aurobindo's activities at this time and his perceptions regarding the true meaning of nationalism and religion. From now on he relied increasingly on the inner voice — the adesh or divine command from within — to regulate his actions and at any moment of crisis, he instantly obeyed its dictates. Also, mark that when he speaks of a Sanatana Dharma, it is not of creed and dogmas, rites and rituals, that he speaks. As he was to explain further in the Karmayogin: 'There is a mighty law of life, a great principle of human evolution, a body of spiritual knowledge and experience of which India has always been destined to be a guardian, exemplar and missionary. This is the sanatana dharma. the eternal religion.'

In order to combat the gloom and despondency in the air Sri Aurobindo launched the publication of two weekly journals, the Karmayogin in English and the Dharma in Bengali. The first issue of the Karmayogin came out on June 19, 1909, and that of the Dharma on August 23. The Karmayogin described itself as 'a weekly review of National Religion, Literature, Science, Philosophy etc.' The cover illustration was that of Sri Krishna and Arjuna seated in their chariot on the battlefield of Kurukshetra, and the two mottos on the top were 'Remember me and fight' and 'Yoga is skill in works.' Week after week Sri Aurobindo contributed articles of rare inspiration. The early issues also carried his translations of the Isha, Katha and Kena Upanishads. There were literary contributions as well — several of his poems, 'Baji Prabhou', 'The Birth of Sin', 'Epiphany' and others appeared in the paper for the first time; it also published his translation of the first thirteen chapters of Bankim Chandra's Anandamath. In the later issues can be found some remarkably constructive prose contributions such as 'A System of National Education', 'The National Value of Art', 'The Brain of India', etc. Both the Karmayogin and Dharma soon acquired a wide readership and, unlike the Bande Mataram, were financially self-supporting.

It must not be thought, however, that the Karmayogin refrained from political writings. As in the Bande Mataram, there were trenchant comments on political developments but the stress was on larger issues, moral and spiritual. The British Government, in an effort to placate Indian feelings, had come forward with some halfhearted proposals for political reforms, but as they did not really transfer any political power to India Sri Aurobindo did not accept. The Moderates in Bengal, under the leadership of Surendranath Bannerjee, were anxious to come to an understanding with the Nationalist leaders so as to repair the split at Surat. Sri Aurobindo led the Nationalist delegates to a conference at Hoogly which was attended by the Moderates as well. He was also present at a few private meetings called by Surendranath to explore the possibilities of a rapprochement. However, these negotiations failed because Sri Aurobindo would in no way compromise on the issue of independence or accept the new constitution of the Congress. This again shows how steadfast he was in exercising his political will to establish independence as the one ideal to be followed and to plant this seed in the national consciousness.

The Government were in a quandary how to deal with. Sri Aurobindo. They considered appealing to the High Court against the judgment of Beachcroft. After careful consideration, however, they dropped the idea as the appeal was not likely to succeed. A strong section of the bureaucrats was in favour of deportation but the Viceroy was against this extreme move lest it trigger off a violent reaction in India and provoke criticism in England. In fact Sister Nivedita warned Sri Aurobindo that the Government might deport him and he then told her that he would take steps to forestall their action. Accordingly Sri Aurobindo wrote a signed article in the Karmayogin in July 1909, calling it 'An Open Letter to My Countrymen' in which he exposed Government intentions and left his countrymen with what he called his 'last political will and testament' to guide them in his enforced absence. A masterly move, this must have effectively silenced those bureaucrats who were still thinking in terms of deporting him. Frustrated in these two directions, the Government continued to keep a close watch on the writings in the Karmayogin so as not to miss any opportunity of convicting Sri Aurobindo on a charge of sedition.

Meanwhile the political atmosphere remained murky and sullen. On December 25, 1909, Sri Aurobindo wrote another open letter, 'To My Countrymen', which appeared in the Karmayogin. In it he reviewed the political situation, referred to the failure in the negotiations between the Nationalists and the Moderates, strongly opposed the Morley-Minto Reforms which the Moderates were in favour of accepting and ended the letter by advocating a renewal of the passive resistance movement with a readiness to defy the Government if they resorted to ruthless repression. Again, it was a masterly example of political polemics.

At this time we have the remarkable instance of a prediction made by Sri Aurobindo regarding India's independence. This was in January 1910 when he gave an interview to a correspondent of the Tamil Nationalist weekly India. Sri Aurobindo said: 'Since 1907, we are living in a new era which is full of hope for India. Not only India, but the whole world will see sudden upheavals and revolutionary changes. The high will become low and the low high. The oppressed and the depressed shall be elevated. The nations and humanity will be animated by a new consciousness, new thought and new efforts will be made to reach new ends. Amidst these revolutionary changes India will become free.' These words were published with Sri Aurobindo's authorisation. I shall have occasion to remind you of the prediction later in our story.

On January 24, 1910, Shams-ul-Alam, Deputy Superintendent of the Police Intelligence Department, was shot down on the steps of the Calcutta High Court publicly and in daylight. You will remember no doubt the name of this detective about whom Sri Aurobindo has written with so much humour in his Karakahini. The very nature of this official's duties together with his ability and zeal had made him a marked man in the eyes of the revolutionaries. It became obvious that severe Government reprisals would follow this sudden assassination and the political situation became tense once again.

In the evenings Sri Aurobindo used to go to the Karmayogin office at 4 Shampukur Lane in the Shambazar area of Calcutta to attend to editorial work. One evening around the middle of February 1910, probably on the 15th, Sri Aurobindo went to the office as usual. Work over, he sat down with a few young associates in an automatic writing seance. Suresh Chakravarty (Moni) was one of the young men who was present on the occasion and I will now quote a passage in translation from his Bengali book of reminiscences which tells us of subsequent events. He writes: 'The atmosphere was filled with fun and laughter when Ram Majumdar, a staff member of the Karmayogin, suddenly entered and informed Sri Aurobindo that he had come to know from a high police official that a warrant of arrest had been issued against Sri Aurobindo. There was a tense moment of silence as we sat in perplexity. Then Sri Aurobindo calmly said: "I will go to Chandernagore." He stood up and came out of the house with Rambabu behind him. At a little distance were Biren and myself — in this way a "dumb procession" was formed.

‘Usually the police kept a watch over Sri Aurobindo's movements but that evening, when he came out of the office, there was no vigil anywhere. After walking for about fifteen minutes we reached a ghat of the river Ganges. Rambabu called out for a ferry boat. Sri Aurobindo stepped into it — Biren and myself followed. Then Rambabu went back. The boat started and we were afloat on the Bhagirathi waters. It was a full-moon night; all around were ripples as of a silver smile. Perhaps it was —

The eleventh day of the moon,
The sleepless moon
Is ferrying all alone in the dream-sea!

‘After a long night's crossing the boat reached Chandernagore in the early morning. Sri Aurobindo sent Biren to Charu Chandra Roy, well-known in revolutionary circles, to ask for shelter. But he was singularly unhelpful and indeed suggested that Sri Aurobindo should leave India and go to France! However the young revolutionary, Motilal Roy, came to know of Sri Aurobindo's arrival and welcomed him in his own house. Now that a safe refuge had been found, we returned to Calcutta in the same boat.'

Apropos of these events Sri Aurobindo later said: 'When I heard of the arrest, I was thinking what should be done. Then all on a sudden I got a clear command, "Go to Chandernagore." At once I was ready, not from fright or despair, but that there should be no hindrance to my yoga — that was why I came away. I gave up political connections because I knew that the work I had started would go ahead and its success was assured. My presence was not needed for it. I requested Nivedita to take up charge of the Karmayogin.'

Sri Aurobindo stayed at Chandernagore for about six weeks, first at Motilal's house and then in a number of other locations to avoid attracting attention from the police or the informers. He demanded the strictest security precautions which Motilal did his best to provide. In fact, throughout Sri Aurobindo's stay at Chandernagore the Government had no scent of his whereabouts although they were engaged in intensive searches for him everywhere.

Sri Aurobindo has said hardly anything about this short period of secluded life at Chandernagore except that 'he plunged entirely into solitary meditation and ceased all other activities'. What little we know is from Motilal who later wrote a book of memoirs. It was a period of intense sadhana for Sri Aurobindo. When he spoke it was as if somebody else was speaking through him. He would eat the food placed before him mechanically — even then he was deeply absorbed and ate very little. He meditated with his eyes open and saw various subtle forms and sights. Three deities appeared before him — Ila, Mahi (Bharati) and Saraswati whom he later recognised as Vedic Ishwaris. Motilal was himself now attracted to yoga and Sri Aurobindo gave him guidance — 'Surrender everything to God!' was his instruction.

Chandernagore was too dangerously near Calcutta for Sri Aurobindo to stay on there. Various plans for going elsewhere were being suggested when Sri Aurobindo again heard the Voice: 'Go to Pondicherry.' On his part, Sri Aurobindo once again followed this Voice without any hesitation or question. This is how the Divine guides and protects us when we take refuge in Him alone — mamekam saranarn vraja, as the Gita says.

Plans for his departure to Pondicherry had to be made in great secrecy because of police surveillance. There were two stages of the journey. The first, and much the shorter passage, was from Chandernagore to Calcutta. Sri Aurobindo relied on Motilal to make the arrangements. He also sent word to Amax Chatterji, the young revolutionary from Uttarpara of whom I have spoken earlier, to give his assistance. As regards the second part of the journey, the longer and much more risky passage, he wrote to his maternal cousin Sukumar Mitra (Krishnakumar Mitra's son), to work out the details of a plan. Sukumar was also advised that Bijoy Nag, a young follower of Sri Aurobindo, would accompany him to Pondicherry. At the same time Sri Aurobindo sent a note to Suresh Chakravarty asking him to be ready to go to Pondicherry in advance.

Some of the persons who played a part in the exciting events that followed published their reminiscences in subsequent years. There are a few discrepancies in some of these accounts, possibly due to the fading memory of the authors, but the overall picture is clear enough and I shall be drawing on these writings to enable you to visualise the dramatic episodes.

First let us listen to Suresh: '...while I was living in a mess at No. 6 Crouch Lane, quite unexpectedly one day I received a small piece of paper, with a message in three or four lines of Aurobindo's handwriting. It asked me to go to Pondicherry to arrange a house for him. My friend (who gave me the note) told me further that Sukumar, and Saurin Bose, Sri Aurobindo's wife's cousin, would make all the arrangements for my going to Pondicherry, the former secretly and the latter openly. All I had to do was to go to the Howrah station and get on the Madras Mail. My departure for Pondicherry was set for March 28.... Generally I never used to venture out before sundown but on the day of my departure I went out in the morning and had a hair-cut. I bought some new clothes too. I let it be known to everyone in the mess that I was going to my home-town Pabna in the evening by the Darjeeling Mail to attend a marriage.' I might mention here that Suresh was a very fair-complexioned young man and he purchased a suit of European clothes so as to pass off as an Anglo-Indian and not be suspected by the police.

To continue with Suresh's narrative, 'In those days the Madras Mail used to leave Howrah station in the evening. In the afternoon I put on my new clothes and left the house without any luggage. In my pocket I had a recently purchased money-bag containing three ten-rupee notes, a little change, and a piece of paper on which Aurobindo had written a few lines that were to be my letter of introduction to Pondicherry friends.... I reached Howrah station. The train was already at the platform. All around was the noisy hustle-bustle of the passengers. I found Saurin after much searching. He was waiting for me with a trunk and a small bedding-roll in front of a second-class compartment. After I took them from Saurin he gave me a second-class ticket (the second class, instead of third, being a cover) and a colourful paper-back novel by Guy Boothby entitled Love Made Manifest, recently bought from a book-stall for six annas....'

This is how young Suresh — he was barely eighteen at the time —left Calcutta. But his very youth and the fact that he was one of the few around Sri Aurobindo who did not have a police record gave him very suitable cover as an emissary. He duly arrived at Pondicherry on March 31, after changing trains at Madras. Later I shall pick up his trail at Pondicherry. Let me now return to Calcutta.

In his reminiscences, Sukumar Mitra writes: 'It was 1910, around the end of March. Unexpectedly I received a letter from Sri Motilal Roy of Chandernagore. He informed me of Auro-da's desire to leave Chandernagore and go to Pondicherry. All the arrangements for his departure were to be made by me. And I had to be most careful in keeping all this a secret.... I resolved to work with the utmost care and circumspection at every step and in every detail. At that time half a dozen plain-clothes detectives used to sit near the tank in front of our house and keep watch. They shadowed me as soon as I came out of the house.... Since the police openly picked me up and followed me from the moment I left the house, I felt it better not to be directly involved in making the arrangements but instead to get the work done by giving instructions to two men I trusted. Even so what I told one I did not pass on to the other, and I did not allow the two to meet.... I decided to send Aurobindo to Pondicherry by a French ship rather than by train, for to go by rail was, I decided, too dangerous. If he took the train he might be recognised during the long journey, for there were police spies on the alert at the stations. At that time a French shipping company called Messageries Maritimes operated from Calcutta. Ships of other companies also sailed from Calcutta to Colombo but they did not halt at Pondicherry. There was another advantage in travelling by a French ship, a political one. As soon as the ship went beyond the British Indian coast, the passengers would come under French jurisdiction. The security Aurobindo sought by going to Pondicherry would be his once he had travelled eighty miles south of Calcutta.'

The two persons chosen by Sukumar to assist him in carrying out the plan were Nagendrakumar Guharay and Surendrakumar Chakravarty, both trustworthy Swadeshi workers from Noakhali.

In later years Nagendrakumar wrote about these events and to his reminiscences he gave the title Farewell to the god. He writes: 'One day in the last week of March, Sukumar-da showed me two steel trunks in a room of his house (the Sanjivani office) and said that I should take them away and keep them at my mess. I lifted the trunks a little and realised that they were full. Jokingly I enquired whether they contained bombs and pistols. Sukumar-da smiled and said that whatever the contents, the trunks must be kept with me. So I took them to my mess at 44/1 College Street. He asked me to meet him again the following day.

‘The next day when I met Sukumar-da at the appointed time, he wrote down the names and addresses of two men and, giving me the necessary money, asked me to buy two second class tickets on the Colombo steamer. I cannot remember exactly whether I bought the tickets for Pondicherry or Colombo. Sukumar-da recalls that the tickets were for Colombo. He says that he did this to divert the police for, in the event of an enquiry later, their attention would first be directed towards Colombo instead of Pondicherry. I cannot recall the name of the steamer company but Sukumar-da still remembers it. It was Messageries Maritimes. But I certainly haven't forgotten the name of the ship on which we would bid farewell to the god. A picture of that ship, the Dupleix, docked at Chandpal Ghat near the Eden Gardens of Calcutta still floats before my eyes. Sukumar-da had asked me to reserve a single cabin for two persons and I made the bookings accordingly. I then returned to the Sanjivani office and gave him the two tickets which he checked carefully. Handing them back to me he said, "Keep them with you for the time being — I will take them later."'

Under Sukumar's instructions Nagendrakumar had booked the passages in the names of Jatindra Nath Mitter of Uluberia (a town not far from Calcutta), and Bankim Chandra Bhowmik of Nilphamari, in Rangpur district, names to be assumed by Sri Aurobindo and Bijoy for the journey. Actually, they were not fictitious names and addresses but were taken by Sukumar from the subscribers' list of Sanjivani, his father's nationalist journal. This was done to mislead the police in case of any later investigations.

These arrangements took care of Sri Aurobindo's proposed journey from Calcutta to Pondicherry. The S.S. Dupleix was due to sail in the early hours of April 1, from Chandpal Ghat, Calcutta.

Sukumar now gave his attention to the problem of bringing Sri Aurobindo across from Chandernagore to Calcutta without arousing the suspicions of the police. He was determined to take the utmost precautions and decided that Sri Aurobindo should not be brought direct from Chandernagore to Calcutta so that the boatmen would be in the dark about his destination. So Sukumar planned the journey in several stages. Here let me explain that Chandernagore is situated on the western bank of the Ganges, whereas Calcutta is on the eastern side, about 35 km downstream from Chandernagore. Sukumar decided that the first stage of Sri Aurobindo's journey should be from Chandernagore to Agarpara, on the eastern side of the river, about halfway between Chandernagore and Calcutta. Whilst Sri Aurobindo made his journey.

Amar Chatterjee would hire a boat at Uttarpara, situated on the western bank, cross the river and pick up Sri Aurobindo from Agarpara. However, they would still not proceed direct from Agarpara to Calcutta. Instead, Amar and Sri Aurobindo would again cross the river and take up position at another ghat on the western side of the river, a few miles below Uttarpara. In the meantime Nagen and Suren, accompanied by Bijoy Nag, would hire a boat at Calcutta and proceed upstream to the appointed ghat on the opposite side of the river below Uttarpara. It was further decided that in event of any delay, Amar's boat would not be moored at the ghat, to avoid attention being drawn to it, but move towards the mid-river. Each boat would fly a banner of the same kind which would be their flag of identification. Once the two boats had established contact, Sri Aurobindo would be transferred to Nagen's boat which would bring the party direct to Dupleix at Chandpal Ghat. Sri Aurobindo and Bijoy would then board the ship from the river by a rope-ladder, instead of using the gangplank. The captain's permission to do so would be taken in advance and at that time the passengers' baggages would be deposited in the cabin reserved for them.

It was certainly an elaborate plan, perhaps over-elaborate, but Sukumar considered that a zig-zag route and various diversionary tactics were necessary so as to hoodwink the police. Also, it seemed a good idea for Sri Aurobindo to board the ship straight from the river, as the police usually kept a sharp look-out from the adjoining road when passengers entered the ship from the jetty.

On the morning of March 31, the day prior to the Dupleix's date of sailing, Motilal Roy saw Sri Aurobindo off from the Boraichanditola Ghat at Chandernagore. Motilal himself did not accompany Sri Aurobindo but deputed two of his trusted followers to be with him. In accordance with the plan, the boat moved downstream and crossed the river to reach Agarpara on the eastern bank.

In the meantime Amar Chatterjee had hired a boat at Uttarpara and, along with his right-hand man Manmath Biswas, set off for Agarpara. This journey was also uneventful and they had no trouble in making contact with Sri Aurobindo at Agarpara.

Now let us turn to the other participants in these exciting events and see what they were doing. On the same morning of March 31, Sukumar sent word to Nagen, to come and see him. To quote from Sukumar's memoirs: 'I called Nagendra and asked him to put Aurobindo's two steel trunks in the reserved cabin on the Dupleix, show the two tickets to the captain and lock up the cabin. Nagendra loaded the trunks on to the ship and returned to inform me. I then called Surendranath Chakravarty and told him that before noon he would have to hire a boat to go northward up the Ganges. I gave him a banner I had ready and asked him to fix it high on the boat. I told him that a similar banner would be flying on a boat which he would come across near a ghat on the opposite side of Agarpara. He should meet this boat, transfer its passengers to his own boat and carry them to the Dupleix which would be moored at Chandpal Ghat. Surendrakumar did not ask any questions nor did he show any undue curiosity. He left to do his work as instructed.'

When Nagen came back after having deposited the two trunks in the ship's cabin, Sukumar instructed him also regarding the boat journey that he would have to make with Suren to pick up two persons from another boat and take them to the Colombo-bound ship. Recalling the events Nagen writes: 'I enquired of Sukumarda "How am I going to recognise the men of the boat?" He replied, "I have explained everything to Suren." As Sukumar-da was saying this, all at once something flashed across my mind. I suddenly asked: "It isn't your Auro-da who is going, is it?" A little surprised he answered with a laugh, "Well, you have become very clever, haven't you? How did you know?" "It just occurred to me," I answered. "You guessed right", he said. "But be very careful that no one else finds out."'

Around midday Nagen and Suren set off in a boat which went up the river with the object of meeting the other boat that carried Sri Aurobindo, Amar and Manmath. All had worked out well so far. But now fate, or an unseen Hand, intervened. The two boats failed to establish contact either at the appointed ghat or in mid-river. There had probably been some delay in Nagen and Suren starting from Calcutta or the two boats might have passed each other without recognising the banner of identification which they were flying; whatever the reason, a very grave situation now developed.

Remember that Amar was neither aware of the arrangements which had been made for boarding the Dupleix nor did he have the tickets. Detailed instructions as well as the tickets were being carried by Nagen and now the two parties had missed each other. The whole sequence of carefully prepared arrangements had gone awry.

Amar was now getting increasingly worried. He decided that he could wait no longer for Nagen to turn up and instructed the boatman to proceed towards Calcutta. He rightly concluded that he must meet Sukumar to find out what had gone wrong.

Meanwhile Nagen and Suren, equally perturbed at having searched for and failed to find Sri Aurobindo, also decided that they must return to Calcutta and report to Sukumar. Nagen writes in his reminiscences: 'We went straight to Sukumar-da's house and told him what had happened. He asked me to go at once to Chandpal Ghat and take the two trunks out of the ship's cabin. It was then about six in the evening. I again rushed to Chandpal Ghat. There was no end to my scurryings that day.... On the ship I learned that the ship's doctor had finished his examination of the passengers and gone home. My heart sank when I heard this. I thought, "All this labour and now our efforts are all wasted!"'

However, Nagen was resourceful enough to meet the captain, obtain the doctor's address (he was a European) and get the captain to agree that if the passengers could board the ship by 10 or 11 p.m. with the required medical certificates, they would be accepted. Then there was a stroke of good fortune. Nagen goes on to write: 'The coolie who took the two trunks down from the ship's cabin and put them on the hired horse-carriage told me that he knew the doctor-sahib's house and was acquainted with the sahib's servant. He could arrange everything. In the same breath he also made it clear that I would have to give him and the servant a fat tip to keep them happy. The coolie was a Bengali, a Calcutta man and very clever. From his behaviour and words I could see that he could get the job done. But the cloud of anxiety did not dissolve completely, because we did not know yet when and where this unforeseen game of hide-and-seek with the two passengers would end.'

To return now to Amar, Manmath and the precious human cargo they were carrying. Alighting at a ghat near Chandpal Ghat where the Dupleix was berthed, they hired a carriage, put Sri Aurobindo inside and rushed towards Sukumar's house in the College Square area. Amar stopped the carriage some distance away from the house and sent Manmath to enquire at Sukumar's place.

The situation was now full of danger. This was an area where plain-clothes policemen and informers were always on the lookout. Sri Aurobindo's face was well known. If by chance he were recognised and the police tipped off, the authorities would take swift action. To make matters worse, Manmath came back and reported that Sukumar was not in the house — he had apparently gone out in search of the missing party! There was nothing to be done except to wait. Amar recalling the events writes: 'My mind was restless as I sat with Aurobindo in the carriage worrying about where the others were. But he whose safety was causing me so much restlessness and agitation was himself untroubled, unshaken, motionless like a statue he sat there like a lifeless stone image.'

After some time Manmath tried again and on this occasion he succeeded in meeting Sukumar. The latter was aghast to hear that Sri Aurobindo was in that dangerous locality and asked that they immediately go back to the vicinity of Chandpal Ghat and wait there — he would arrange to send Nagen with the tickets etc. to them. Subsequent events have been vividly described by Nagen in his memoirs: By the time I arrived back at the mess with the two trunks, evening had advanced. I had asked the coolie to wait at the Ghat. Once again I rushed towards Sukumar-da's house. He was waiting for me in the outer room. I told him that I had removed the luggage from the ship's cabin. But before I could give him any other news he ordered me take the two trunks and the tickets back to the pier immediately. He said that Amar-babu had taken Aurobindo and Bijoy Nag there by carriage and they were waiting for me. I told him about the arrangements I had made for the medical examination and getting the health certificate. When I asked him for the necessary money he went in at once, got the money and gave it to me.

‘Once again I took the two trunks from the mess and loaded them on a horse-carriage; taking the tickets along with me I rushed back to Chandpal Ghat. There I saw Aurobindo's carriage waiting by the roadside. Our coolie was sitting nearby. When he saw me he at once ran up and said, "Your babus have come. I've already told them of our arrangement. It's late. If you waste any more time, the doctor sahib won't carry out the examination — he will have gone to sleep."...

‘I sent my carriage away. The coolie put the two trunks on the roof of Aurobindo's carriage with some other things.... I climbed in and sat beside Amar-da. Aurobindo and Bijoy Nag were sitting behind us. The coolie got up and sat next to the coachman. I don't remember the name of the street on which the doctor's house was situated but I recollect that it was in the European quarter on the other side of Chowringhee.

'When we reached the doctor's residence, all four of us waited on the verandah. The coolie called the servant and came to terms with him. Before the doctor called in Aurobindo and Bijoy Nag, I gave them their tickets and told them the names and addresses under which they had been purchased. I recall that I gave the money for the doctor's fees to Aurobindo but do not remember the exact amount — perhaps thirty-two rupees.

'We had to stand and wait on the verandah for almost half-anhour before the doctor called Aurobindo and Bijoy Nag inside. During this period the coolie did something amusing that we all enjoyed a great deal. He came and whispered in my ear, "That baba of yours — is he frightened? I guess he has never been near an Englishman before. Tell him the doctor sahib is a good man, he doesn't have to be afraid!" The coolie had noticed the three of us chatting off and on but, noticing that Aurobindo remained completely silent and absorbed, he had reached his own conclusions! And, in a wink, he was before Aurobindo whispering to him softly: "Babu, why are you afraid? The sahib is a very good man, you don't have to be afraid." And as he spoke, he took hold of Aurobindo's arms and shook them as if to make him alert. The three of us silently enjoyed the whole episode, exchanging amused glances and laughing to ourselves. Aurobindo too smiled gently. The scene comes alive in my mind like a film even today.

‘Hardly a moment later, the servant came and told us, "Sahib salaam diya" (the master bids you enter). Aurobindo and Bijoy Nag were led into the doctor's room by the servant. They came out ten or fifteen minutes later with certificates. I heard from Bijoy Nag that after a moment or two of conversation the sahib had realised that Aurobindo had been educated in England. When the doctor asked about this, Aurobindo merely said, "Yes."

‘We climbed back into the carriage greatly relieved. It again sped towards Chandpal Ghat. We could not see the slightest trace of anxiety on Aurobindo's face. Later, we were to talk about this among ourselves and Amar-da rightly said: "The one for whom we were anxious was altogether calm like someone absorbed in the trance of samadhi." That Aurobindo was a man beyond anxiety or fear, that he was abhi (fearless} I had heard, but before this meeting I had not had the good fortune of seeing it for myself.

‘It was almost eleven at night when the carriage reached Chandpal Ghat. After putting the luggage on the coolie's head the four of us boarded the Dupleix and entered the reserved cabin. The coolie arranged the luggage and then left. Bijoy Nag made Aurobindo's bed. Amar-da and I stood facing Aurobindo near the door. Amar-da took some currency notes from his shirt-pocket and gave them to Aurobindo saying that they were from Michhribabu (Zamindar of Uttarpara). He accepted the notes without a word. Then Amar-da lowered his head, and touching his forehead with folded hands made namaskar to Aurobindo. I laid my forehead on Aurobindo's feet as an expression of my reverence, and in the touch of that divine body, I felt fulfilled.'

Early next morning, April 1, the Dupleix steamed out of Calcutta carrying Sri Aurobindo into the safety of the open seas and, four days later, on April 4, 1910, he reached Pondicherry where he was beyond the writ of British authority. His departure also marked the end of his physical association with his native province, for he left the shores of Bengal never to return.

How mysteriously does the Divine move in protecting those who surrender themselves to Him! Late in the afternoon of March 31, Sri Aurobindo's safety seemed to be in great jeopardy, for the carefully prepared plans for his getaway seemed to be wrecked. And yet, as we look back and reconstruct those distant events, it becomes clear that the delay in the two passengers boarding the ship actually proved a blessing in disguise. Had Sri Aurobindo reached the ship in time to be examined by the doctor, he would have faced much greater danger. It seems that those who made the plans so carefully had overlooked the fact that a Calcutta policeman was detailed, as a matter of routine, to be present at medical examinations. Sri Aurobindo could then have been easily recognised — with disastrous consequences. The records show that the police report for that evening merely stated that two ticket-holders with Bengali names did not turn up at the ship for the medical examination. It was not until April 4 that the police made further enquiries and learnt that two passengers had in fact embarked at the last moment and sailed away the next day. And because of the late hour at which Sri Aurobindo boarded the ship (it was about 11.00 p.m.) the police pickets had left so that there was no one to watch his arrival. In fact at every stage of the events which culminated in his final departure to Pondicherry one feels the presence of Sri Aurobindo's all-seeing Friend and Master controlling the events. And Sri Aurobindo's own comments on the Adesh which he received are wonderfully revealing: 'As for Adesh, people speak of Adesh without making the necessary distinctions, but these distinctions have to be made. The Divine speaks to us in many ways and it is not always the imperative Adesh that comes. When it does it is clear and irresistible, the mind has to obey and there is no question possible, even if what comes is contrary to the preconceived ideas of the mental intelligence. It was such an Adesh that I had when I came away to Pondicherry.'

Even in this age of skepticism and materialism can one really deny that God exists, is near us, with us and leads us if only we are ready to surrender ourselves?

After Sri Aurobindo's departure to Pondicherry he ceased all public connection with politics for reasons I shall presently explain. Here I would like to pause briefly and sum up what Sri Aurobindo did for the nation during the four brief but tumultuous years (of which one was spent in jail). His first achievement was to awaken the nation from its torpor and slavish mentality under the British rule. His magnetic personality and his inspired writings in the Bande Mataram exercised a profound influence and I have already stressed that it was he who first demanded, in clear and explicit terms, that India must have complete political freedom. Next, he spiritualised politics, placing God at the head of the National movement as its leader, inspirer, force and strength. He saw the country, not as a political or geographical entity, but as the very body of the Divine Mother — this was the key to the inspiration he provided. Lastly, Sri Aurobindo developed the theory and practice of Passive Resistance as a means of giving a direction to the political struggle with the aim of achieving freedom. These ideas and programmes were imperfectly understood at that time but they influenced (sometimes unconsciously) subsequent political developments, such as the non-cooperation movement, with far-reaching results and eventual success.

Sri Aurobindo's sudden departure for Pondicherry and thereafter his complete severance with politics left a vacuum which was all the greater because of the powerful impact he had made earlier. The British did not believe that he had in fact withdrawn from politics but suspected that he was preparing for revolutionary action in secret. On the other hand those concerned with day-to-day politics deplored his retirement and thought that he was lost to India and the world, being interested only in his own spiritual salvation. So he was called a truant or an escapist. Even now there is insufficient understanding of what led to his decision. Yet Sri Aurobindo's own words in this connection leave little room for any misunderstanding. This is what he wrote in a letter to a disciple: 'I may also say that I did not leave politics because I felt I could do nothing more there; such an idea was very far from me. I came away because I did not want anything to interfere with my yoga and because I got a very distinct adesh. I have cut connections entirely with politics, but before I did so I knew from within that the work I had begun there was destined to be carried forward on lines I had foreseen by others and that the ultimate triumph of the movement I had initiated was sure without my personal action or presence. There was not the least motive of despair or sense of futility behind my withdrawal.'

There is another important consideration we should not overlook. Sri Aurobindo has stated that the very principle of his Yoga is 'not only to realise the Divine and attain to a complete spiritual consciousness, but also to take all life and all world activity into the scope of this spiritual consciousness and action and to base life on the Spirit and give it a spiritual meaning'. To say therefore that he had shunned the world is to misunderstand the nature and purpose of his Yoga. The vast range and significance of his spiritual force and action which he was now to radiate from Pondicherry — his 'Cave of Tapasya' — will unfold themselves more and more to us as we proceed further.