Tales of Prison Life

Sadhana in the Court

It took some more time for the experiences to deepen. Meanwhile, our case came up for hearing in the magistrate's court. Initially the mind was perturbed on being thrust into the commotion of the external world. The change in setting was a complete contrast to the silence of solitary imprisonment and initially resulted in the disruption of the flow of Sadhana (spiritual discipline). The mind refused to be an audience to the dull and uninteresting proceedings of the court, that stretched for five hours at times. My attempt to continue the Sadhana in the courtroom did not succeed at first since the unconditioned mind was easily distracted by any aural or visual stimuli. The capacity of dhyana-dharana was acquired in the later phase, when it became possible for me to draw the mind inwards, thus ensuring that it was unaffected by external events. As this capacity was absent in the first phase of court-proceedings, I discontinued my failed attempts at Sadhana in the courtroom and contented myself with occasional visions of the omnipresent Divine. For the remaining time I turned my attention to my co-accused and their activities and conversations or simply reflected on other things. Sometimes I would even listen in to Mr. Norton's invaluable expositions and the revelatory evidence presented by witnesses. While the passage of time in solitary imprisonment was a simple and pleasant affair, I discovered that it was not so easy to be in the midst of so many people and watch a serious court-case unfold like a play before one’s eyes while so many lives hung in the balance. The banter of the young revolutionaries, their pranks and carefree laughter did gladden the heart. The court proceeding, on the other hand, was a bothersome affair and when it ceased for the day at four-thirty, I was all too happy to return to the prison in the carriage.

The contact with the free world outside and the opportunity to be in each other's company, after a fifteen or sixteen day spell of prison-life, made the accused extremely happy and excitable. They made every moment of the ten odd minutes, that we spent in the carriage, count, with an incessant flow of laughter and conversation.

Security Arrangements

The authorities made elaborate arrangements in our honour for the first trip to the Court. A small platoon of European sergeants, with loaded pistols, was assigned to us as our armed escort. A band of armed policemen formed a protective ring around us as we boarded the carriage and then marched behind us. The same ritual was repeated when we alighted from the carriage. All this fanfare might have led uninformed bystanders to believe that this bunch of young, fun-loving lads were intrepid warriors of some notorious gang and that they were perhaps endowed with such strength and courage so as to be able to breach the impregnable human-wall formed by hundreds of policemen and 'tommies' with their bare hands and escape; and hence such security arrangements as on display were necessary and justified.

This pomp and pageantry was kept up for the first few days. Thereafter, a gradual decline was observed. Eventually, our escort-party dwindled to two or four sergeants at the most on our journey both to and from the Court. Our escorts did not enforce any protocol or constraints on our return to the Prison. So we would just casually walk into the Prison as if we were free men returning home from a stroll. The Police Commissioner and some Superintendents were incensed at the slackness of their officers and commented on their negligence: "We had arranged for twenty-five to thirty sergeants on the first day. It is now observed that not more than four or five sergeants turn up." They would thus rebuke the sergeants and demand strict arrangements for the desired level of security. A slight increase in the number of sergeants would be seen as a consequence of this pressure. However, the change was short-lived and soon there would be a relapse into the previous state of laxity! The sergeants had actually found the "devotees of the bomb" to be a remarkably harmless and peaceful lot. They had not detected any discernible intention or plan to effect an escape or kill or attack anyone. For these reasons, the sergeants had perhaps started to consider the elaborate security measures to be unnecessary and a waste of their time and energy. Initially a body-search was conducted both before entering and leaving the court. This was actually a futile exercise if one were to disregard the dubious joy of feeling the soft touch of the sergeants’ rough hands. It became evident that the Police too was not fully convinced of the practical utility of such a procedure since they discontinued the practice after a few days. We were then left free to carry books, bread, sugar or any item of our choosing to the courtroom. At first, this was done covertly. Later on we did it openly. The Police soon ruled out the possibility of us hurling a bomb or firing a pistol in the courtroom. However, the Sergeants had one apprehension that they were never able to overcome and that was the calamitous possibility of some mischievous prisoner throwing his footwear at the glorious pate of the magistrate! Therefore, footwear was strictly forbidden in the court and the sergeants never let their guard down in this matter. They did not demonstrate the same level of alertness in implementing any other security measure.

Court-room Drama

The court trial had an air of unreality about it. There was a certain oddness about each aspect of the trial whether it be the Magistrate, the prosecution counsel, the witnesses, the evidence, the exhibits or the accused. Day after day, we were made an audience to an endless stream of witnesses and exhibits, the play-acting of the prosecution counsel and the magistrate's childish behaviour and his fickleness and levity. There were times during the trial when we felt as if we were not in a British Court of Justice but on a theatrical stage or within a fictional world out of some novel.

Prosecution Counsel Eardley Norton

Prosecution Counsel Norton

Mr. Norton, the government counsel, was not only the leading actor of this theatrical production but also its author, Sutradhar and a prompter for court-witnesses - such wondrous talent in one man is a rare phenomenon indeed. Mr. Norton seemed to be neither aware of nor accustomed to the code of conduct and ethics prevalent amongst the circle of barristers in Bengal, probably because he was himself based in Madras. Mr. Norton had also been a neta (leader) of the National Organisation at one time. This could explain his constitutional aversion to dissent or opposition of any kind and his habitual intimidation of those who dared to stand up to him. People likened Mr. Norton's aggression in this regard to that of a lion in the jungle. It is not known whether Mr. Norton revealed his leonine temperament at the Madras Corporation. However it was most certainly in evidence at Alipore court. His legal expertise, if one could call it that, was like snow in summer. Nevertheless it was difficult not to be charmed by Mr Norton's verbal dexterity and unceasing flow of commentary, his amazing ability to make inconsequential evidence appear important, the audacity of his baseless deductions, his bullying of witnesses and junior barristers and his hypnotic powers of persuasion to make white appear black.

The leading barristers may be broadly classified into three categories. The first kind are the ones who inspire confidence and conviction in the judge's mind by dint of their legal expertise, logical exposition of facts and detailed analysis. The second kind are those who uncover the truth through skillful cross-questioning of witnesses and achieve resonance with the judge or the jury by dexterous presentation of the facts of the case and the related circumstances. The third kind comprises those whose strategy is to disorient the witness through a play of words or intimidation or by subjecting them to a verbal barrage, in order to splendidly confuse the entire issue and to deliberately mislead or confuse the judge or the jury to win the case. Mr. Norton was amongst the foremost practitioners of the third kind.

However this should not be held against him. After all a barrister is a paid professional. Hence he is duty-bound to serve his client's interests. As it is, in this day and age neither the complainant nor the defendant are interested in the truth. All they care about is winning the legal case by any means possible. Therefore the counsel too must focus only on winning the case or else he would be remiss in his duties towards his client. Unfortunately for Mr Norton, God had not endowed him with the requisite qualities to win a case on merit. So he had no choice but to follow his own bent of nature in trying to win the case and in doing so he was merely performing his swadharma.

Mr. Norton was paid a sum of thousand rupees by the Government daily as his fees. If this expenditure did not yield the desired results, it would be considered a loss. Hence it could be argued that Mr. Norton was doing his utmost only to prevent any loss to the Government. However for political cases such as this, the British Legal system specifically allowed for special leniency to the accused in the matter of basic conveniences and also discouraged undue emphasis on suspect or unverified evidence. I believe that adherence to these legal provisions would not have weakened Mr. Norton's case in any manner. On the other hand, if he had played by the rules, the innocent would have been spared the torture of solitary imprisonment and the harmless Ashok Nandi may not have lost his life. The counsel's aggressive personality was probably the principal cause for this shortcoming in his approach.

The historical material that Shakespeare was able to use as a source for his plays had been compiled by people like Holinshed, Hall and Plutarch. Similarly, the source material for the court-room drama, that was enacted here in the name of a trial, had been compiled by the Police. The Shakespeare of our drama was none other than Mr. Norton. But unlike Shakespeare who exercised his discretion while choosing from the compiled material, Mr. Norton would seize upon every scrap of the material made available to him irrespective of whether it was true or false, good or bad, cogent or irrelevant, important or inconsequential. He would then embellish these with suggestions, inferences and hypotheses drawn from his fertile imagination to construct a plot so wondrous that even Shakespeare, Defoe and the greatest of poets and novelists were eclipsed by this high priest of literature. Some critics may well point out that just as Falstaff's hotel bill reflected a penny's worth of bread and countless gallons of wine, Mr. Norton's plot too appeared to combine a ratti of admissible evidence with ten maunds of inferences, guesswork and suggestions. Still they could not help but admire the dexterity and skill inherent in the plot's construction.

I was most gratified that Mr. Norton had chosen me as the protagonist of his play. Whilst Milton's Paradise Lost had its Satan, Mr Norton's revolutionary plot had me at its centre as an extraordinarily intelligent, immensely powerful, bold, bad man! It was as if the National Movement began and ended with me; as if I was at once its sole creator and saviour, in trying to bring down the British empire. During the trial, if any elegant or brilliant piece of English writing came into view, Mr. Norton would jump up from his seat and loudly proclaim - Aurobindo Ghose! All legal or illegal acts whether deliberately organised or occurring unexpectedly must necessarily originate from Aurobindo Ghose! And the apparently legal acts, having Aurobindo Ghose at their origin must surely be a cover for hidden intentions that were potentially illegal. Mr Norton seemed to be convinced that were I not apprehended, the British Raj in India would be dismantled within two years. If my name was discovered, even on a scrap of paper, Mr. Norton would be thrilled and respectfully lay this invaluable evidence at the feet of the presiding magistrate. It is a pity that I was not born as an Avatar. Otherwise, such devotion and ceaseless meditation upon me would have surely earned him mukti (salvation). This in turn could have reduced both the period of our detention and the government's expenses.

Since I was declared innocent and acquitted of all charges in the Sessions court, Mr Norton's plot lost both its essential validity and glamour. Mr. Beachcroft, the spoilsport, had impoverished the greatest epic of the twentieth century by leaving out Hamlet from Hamlet, the play. How can one expect anything other than such a tragedy, if the supposed critics are also allowed editing rights to creative works? Norton held a similar grouse against some witnesses, who too played spoilsports and completely refused to bear evidence in accordance with his fabricated plot. Norton would become furious when faced with such hostile witnesses and roar like a veritable lion to strike fear into their hearts and threaten them. Mr. Norton's anger under such circumstances was similar to the legitimate outburst of a poet aggrieved at an inaccurate representation of his poem or that of a stage manager when the actor's declamation, tone or postures are not in keeping with his specific directions. This sattwic anger also led to a quarrel with barrister Bhuban Chatterji. Now, there could be no greater kill-joy than Mr. Chatterji. He had scant regard for propriety and his sense of timing too was poor indeed. Whenever Mr. Norton tried to present evidence without regard for its relevance but purely for the sake of poetic effect, Mr. Chatterji would invariably object and rise to say "inadmissible" or "irrelevant". He was unable to grasp that the inclusion of such evidence was not based on its relevance or legitimacy but purely for its potential usefulness to Mr Norton's drama. Such impropriety irked not just Mr. Norton but even Mr. Birley. On one such occasion, Mr. Birley addressed him a manner that was pitiable: "Mr. Chatterji, we were getting on very nicely before you came." That was indeed so; such frequent objections, regardless of their validity, caused both unnecessary hold-ups in the unfolding of the drama and interruptions in the audience's entertainment.

Magistrate Birley

If Mr Norton were the acknowledged author of this drama, as also its lead-actor and stage manager, then Mr. Birley may well be declared as its patron. It seems that Birley was the pride of the Scottish race. His appearance was itself a living memorial of Scotland. The inordinately white, inordinately long and inordinately lean body with a disproportionately small head, conjured up images of Ochterlony himself perched atop the towering Ochterlony monument or a ripe coconut affixed to the pointed tip of Cleopatra's obelisk! Birley was sandy-haired and his facial expression was as frigid and immobile as the snow and ice in Scotland. One must be endowed with an intelligence proportionate to one's physical size else doubts may arise regarding nature's sense of economy. However, Mother Nature seems to have been distracted or inattentive with regard to this sense of economy while creating Birley. The English poet Marlowe had aptly qualified this sense as 'infinite riches in a little room'. An encounter with Mr. Birley however gave rise to a contrary impression - 'little riches in an infinite room'. Actually, one felt rather sorry that such a large frame housed so little intelligence and knowledge. The fact that thirty crore Indians were being governed by administrators of this very kind, aroused nothing but profound admiration for the greatness of the English and their system of governance.

Mr. Birley's legal knowledge was exposed during the cross-examination conducted by Shrijut Byomkesh Chakravarty. In spite of having served as a Magistrate for many years, Birley's head had reeled when he was asked about the exact timing and the legal procedure for the case being entrusted to his charge. Unable to provide appropriate answers, he tried to redeem himself by transferring the responsibility back to Mr. Chakravarty. This matter still stands as one of the unresolved complexities of the case. Birley's pitiable appeal to Mr. Chatterji, mentioned earlier, provides some insight into his method of administering justice in the court. From the very outset, Birley had been charmed by Mr. Norton's learning and rhetoric and as if fallen under his spell. He would humbly follow the path as led by Norton, derive his views from Norton's views, join enthusiastically in Norton's laughter and grow angry in Norton's anger. His simple childlike conduct sometimes aroused an overwhelming sense of affection and tenderness for him. In fact Birley was indeed childish. I had never been able to accept him in the role of a magistrate. He seemed to be like a student who has been prematurely elevated to the role of teacher and installed on the teacher's high seat. And that was indeed how he conducted the affairs of the court. When he came across someone whose behaviour was contrary to his expectations, Birley would discipline him in the manner of a schoolmaster. When he found us chatting amongst ourselves to dispel the boredom brought upon by the farcical proceedings, he would chide us as a schoolmaster would; if we did not obey him, he would order us to 'stand up' as punishment; if his order was not complied with immediately, he would ask the sentry to enforce it. We had grown so accustomed to this 'schoolmaster-like' manner, that when Birley and Chatterji began to argue, we expected the 'stand-up' punishment to be delivered upon the barrister imminently. However Mr. Birley adopted a different course of action. He screamed: "Sit down, Mr. Chatterji" and forced this newly-arrived, disobedient pupil at his Alipore School to take a seat. Some teachers when confronted with too many questions or requests for elaborate explanations from their students get annoyed and heckle them. Similarly, Mr. Birley would lose his cool and threaten defence counsels, if they dared to raise objections.

Bothersome Witnesses

Norton, too, on his part, found some witnesses particularly bothersome. For instance, Norton's desire would be for a witness to corroborate that a specimen of writing matched the handwriting of a particular accused person. But the witness may not be obliging enough in his response: "No sir, this specimen is not exactly like that handwriting. But it could be, one cannot be sure." - and many witnesses did respond like that. Norton would lose his patience at this. He would shout, scold, intimidate and even threaten the witness to elicit the desired response. His final question would invariably be, "What is your belief? Yes or no?". The witness could neither say 'yes' nor could he say 'no'. He could only reiterate his original statement and try his best to explain to Norton that he held no 'belief' in the matter and was currently oscillating between the two possibilities in a state of grave doubt. But such a response was unacceptable to Norton. He would repeatedly thunder out his favourite question. Again and again that terrifying question would strike the witness like a lightning bolt: "Come, sir. What is your belief?" Mr. Birley, following Mr. Norton's cue, would add his own thunder: "Tomar biswas ki achay?" (What is your belief in the matter?) The poor witness would now face a horrendous dilemma. He had no 'biswas' (belief) worth speaking of. Yet he was faced, on one side, with a thunderous magistrate and on the other, with the menacing prosecution counsel, who, like a veritable tiger, seemed eager to tear out his very internals to extract the priceless, elusive 'biswas' from it. More often than not, the 'biswas' would fail to materialise. Finally, the hapless witness, his body soaked in sweat and his brain in a whirl, would escape from this place of torture with his life. Some witnesses held their life dearer than their 'biswas'; they would make good their escape by offering a made-up 'biswas' at the feet of Mr. Norton, who thus propitiated, would complete his cross-examination in a suitably affectionate manner. The prosecution counsel and the magistrate thus combined to make the proceedings appear more like a staged drama than a court-trial.

The 'Drona' Episode

In spite of some witnesses turning uncooperative in this manner, a majority of witnesses gave evidence as Mr. Norton desired. But it has to be said that there were very few known faces amongst this group of pliant witneses. Some faces were recognizable though. Devdas Karan Mahashaya was one of them. We shall remain eternally grateful to him for dispelling our boredom and making us laugh in the court-room. This truthful gentleman had recounted an incident at the Midnapore Conference where Surendra babu had appealed to his students for guru-bhakti (devotion to the teacher) and Aurobindo babu had remarked: 'What did Drona do?'. Mr. Norton's eagerness and curiosity knew no bounds on hearing this. He must have imagined this 'Drona' to be a devotee of the bomb or a political assassin and if neither, then at least someone associated with the Manicktola Garden or the 'Chhatra Bhandar'. Norton may have even interpreted it to mean that Aurobindo Ghose was advising the students to repay Surendra babu with bombs instead of guru-bhakti. If that were to be true, the prosecution case would certainly be strengthened. Hence, Norton repeated his question eagerly: 'What did Drona do?'. At first, the witness did not comprehend the intent of the question at all. The back and forth continued for a while in this state of confusion. Finally, he threw up his hands, pointed to the sky and told Norton: 'Drona had performed many many amazing things.' Obviously, Mr. Norton did not find this satisfactory enough. How could he be satisfied with anything less than the discovery of "Drona's bomb"? So he repeated his question: "What do you mean by 'many amazing things'? Be more specific." Though the witness provided varied responses, Dronacharya's secret deeds remained shrouded in mystery. Mr. Norton now lost his temper and started to thunder. The witness too began to shout. An advocate quipped: 'Perhaps the witness does not know what Drona had done'. At this Karan Mahashaya, nursing his wounded pride, flared up. He screamed: 'What? I do not know what Drona had done? Bah, have I read the Mahabharata from cover to cover in vain?' This verbal battle over the departed soul's secret deeds stretched for almost thirty minutes. During this time, every five minutes or so, Alipore Judge's court would be shaken to its very foundations by Norton's thunderous exhortation: 'Out with it, Mr. Editor! What did Drona do?' Mr. Editor now launched into a long-winded story, but alas it provided no reliable clues as to what Drona had done. Peals of laughter reverberated throughout the courtroom.

Eventually, Karan Mahashaya, who had utilized the tiffin-break to calm himself down, offered a potential resolution to the matter, on resumption of the court proceedings. He clarified the issue by stating that poor Drona had actually done nothing and hence the earlier heated debate over the past acts of the departed soul had been in vain and it was Arjuna who had killed his guru, Drona. Notwithstanding this false accusation against Arjuna, Dronacharya must have felt greatly relieved and offered his gratitude to Sadashiva at Kailasha for ensuring that he would not be summoned as a witness in the Alipore bomb case, on account of Karan Mahashaya's evidence. After all, a single word from the editor would have been sufficient to establish his relationship with Aurobindo Ghose but for Ashutosh Sadashiva (Lord Shiva), who had saved him from such a fate.

Types of Witnesses

The witnesses who gave evidence in the trial could be categorized into three discernible types: police officers and detectives from the CID, people from either the lower classes or bhadralok (middle class), who were bound in their affection for the Police department and those who deprived themselves of such affection for the Police but became unwilling witnesses nevertheless. Each kind had a distinct and characteristic style of giving evidence. The police officers and detectives would cheerfully act out their scripted parts, fluently deliver their given lines and identify those who they were supposed to identify, without the slightest hint of doubt or hesitation or faltering even once. The second kind would also give evidence with considerable eagerness and identify those who they were supposed to identify. Sometimes, they would get carried away in their enthusiasm and even identify those who were not meant to be identified. The third kind of witnesses, who were giving evidence under coercion, shared whatever they knew but it did not amount to much. Norton would be dissatisfied with their evidence under the implicit assumption that the witness was withholding valuable and certain proof. He would then resort to intimidatory cross-examination to elicit the desired evidence from them. This created a terrible crisis for such witnesses. On one side there was the combined pressure exerted by Mr. Norton's intimidatory roar and Mr. Birley's blood-shot eyes. On the other side, there was the thought of committing the great sin of sending their countrymen to the Andaman islands by bearing false evidence. Such witnesses had to choose between satisfying either Norton and Birley or God. The choice was critical as it could either lead them into transient danger arising from human wrath or create the prospect of hell and misery in the next life as punishment for committing a sin. The witnesses probably reasoned that the prospect of hell and misfortune in the next life were matters of the far-off future whilst the danger of human origin was immediate and could well materialize the very next moment. The fear of being convicted for bearing false evidence, because of unwillingness to do so, must have also played on the minds of many witnesses, since examples of such a consequence in this very place were none too rare. Hence, every torturous moment that the third kind of witnesses spent in the witness-box was coloured with fears of untold hues. When the cross-examination finally ended, their half-dead bodies were as if resuscitated and they were able to breathe freely again. Some witnesses, however remained unimpressed and unaffected by Norton's intimidation and boldly gave their evidence without so much as raising their eyebrows. In such cases, the English counsel, in accordance with his national character, would beat a retreat and soften his approach. In this manner, many witnesses were called to the witness-box and made to give evidence of varied nature but none of it really helped in establishing the police case. One witness spoke quite plainly, "I know nothing and I do not understand why the police has dragged me into this!" It is inconceivable that such a case could be set up in this manner with impunity in any country other than India. In any other country, the Judge would have severely censured the Police and taught them a lesson. It is the Police of this country alone that could take pride in putting so many people in the dock without conducting a proper investigation or evaluating the probability of guilt, in presenting hundreds of witnesses on the basis of guesswork and thus wasting the tax-payer's money and then senselessly detaining the accused in torturous prison conditions over extended periods of time. But the poor police officers probably had no other option. They possessed neither the capabilities nor the competence to justify the label of detectives. Hence, their only option was to cast a wide net for witnesses, with little or no consideration for the relevance of their evidence and then present as many of them as possible in the witness box, in the hope that at least some of them might possess relevant information and may accidentally even provide useful evidence.

Identification of Accused

The method employed for identification of the accused was also extremely odd. The first question posed to the witness would be: "Do you recognize any of the accused?" Mr. Norton's joy would know no bounds, if the witness responded positively. He would immediately arrange for an identification parade and demand that the witness demonstrate his powers of recollection right there at that very moment. If the witness sounded somewhat hesitant: "I am not sure but I may be able to recognize", Mr. Norton would get annoyed and say: "All right then, give it a try". Some witnesses would respond negatively : "No, I cannot recognize anyone; I have not seen them earlier". However, it was not so easy to earn a reprieve from Mr. Norton, who probably believed that the sight of the accused persons might trigger some buried memory of the witness's past life and therefore compelled the witness to undergo a test to verify his belief. But such yogic powers would be beyond the reach of most witnesses. The witness might not even believe in re-incarnation. A common sight in this situation would be that of the witness marching gravely between two long rows of accused persons under the watchful eyes of the sergeant, and without so much as a glance at us, shaking his head and making the announcement: "No, I cannot recognize anyone". Norton would be crestfallen and sorrowfully withdraw his net in a human form, without a catch.

Amazing Memory of Witnesses

The trial could be considered a testament to the levels of precision and faultlessness that the human memory is capable of. For instance, the witness neither knew any of the forty-odd accused by name nor had any acquaintance with them in any life, past or present. Yet he was able to recollect precisely having seen someone two months ago in a specific location or not having seen someone in another location or having seen someone at three specific locations but not in two other locations. The witness would catch a glimpse of a person while he is brushing his teeth and his face gets etched in memory for eternity; for another person, the witness does not remember the time or date of their meeting or what he was doing at the time or whether he was alone or with some other persons and yet amazingly his face too is etched in memory for eternity; one has seen Hari on ten occasions and hence it is not possible to forget him ever but one has spent merely half a minute with Shyam and yet he too will be remembered till one's dying day, with no possibility of a lapse in memory - such powers of memory are a rare phenomenon indeed in this imperfect human form existing in a mortal world of ignorance and error. Yet such amazing, faultless, precise powers of recollection were exhibited by not just one or two policemen but the entire police force. As a consequence, our devotion and reverence for the C.I.D. deepened with every passing day. Unfortunately though, when the case reached the Sessions Court, the respect had to be considerably reduced. This is not to say however that there had been no occasion for doubt in the magistrate's court. When it was clearly established by way of written evidence that Sisir Ghose had been in Bombay in the month of April and yet some eminent police officers claimed to have seen him in Scott's Lane and Harrison Road during that very period, one could not help but feel suspicious. When the occult vision of the C.I.D. saw the subtle body of Birendrachandra Sen of Sylhet at the Muraripukur Garden and Scott's Lane - the very property at Scott's Lane that Birendra had no knowledge of, as proven conclusively by way of written evidence - even though his physical self was present at his father's place at Baniachung at that very time, the suspicion was strengthened. And when the Police claimed to have seen some persons, who had never set foot in Scott's Lane, in that very location on more than one occasion, the preponderance of suspicion was but natural. A witness from Midnapore - whom the accused from Midnapore identified as a police detective - claimed to have seen Hemchandra Sen of Sylhet delivering a speech at Tamluk. As Hemchandra had never visited Tamluk physically, one can only infer that it must have been his causal body that had rushed there from far-off Sylhet to deliver a powerful and seditionary nationalist speech and thus provided visual and aural stimuli to the detective Mahashaya. An even greater mystery was the sighting of the causal body of Charuchandra Roy of Chandernagore at Manicktola. A couple of police officers declared on oath that on a certain date and time they had seen Charu babu at Shyambazar, from where he had walked down to the Manicktola Gardens, in the company of an important conspirator. The police officers claimed to have followed them all the way and observed them at close quarters, thus ruling out any possibility of mistaken identity. Both witnesses maintained their stand during cross-examination. Vyasasya vacanam satyam (Vyasa speaks the truth); the evidence given by the police has to be accorded a similar reverence. There was no possibility of a mistake in the date or time either, since it was established on the basis of the evidence given by the Principal, Dupleix College, Chandernagore, that Charu babu had indeed taken leave from the College and gone to Calcutta on the said day and during the said time. But amazingly, on that very day and at that very hour, Charu babu had actually been chatting with Mayor Tardival of Chandernagore, Tardival's wife, the Governor of Chandernagore and few other distinguished European gentlemen as they strolled about on a platform of Howrah station. Charu babu's companions on the day had readily agreed to stand witness in his favour. Since the police had to release Charu babu at the instance of the French government, this secret was never revealed in the court. But it is my suggestion to Charu babu that he should provide this evidence to the Psychical Research Society and assist in the advancement of human knowledge in this field. Since it is inconceivable that the testimony of the Policemen, more specifically the men from the C.I.D., could be false, one has no option but to seek refuge in Theosophy for explanations.

In summary, the British legal system makes it exceedingly easy for an innocent person to be imprisoned, sent to kalapani (transportation) or even served with the death sentence, as was demonstrated at every step of the trial. It is difficult to realize fully the illusory promise and falsehood inherent in the Western Legal system, unless one gets first-hand experience as an accused in the dock. This European system then appears to be a form of gambling where one gambles with the freedom and happiness of a human being and consequences like a life-time of pain, humiliation and a life that is worse than death for the accused and his family and friends. There is no count of the guilty who are let-off and the innocent who perish in this gamble. A first insight into the propagation and impact of Socialism and Anarchism in Europe is gained the moment one has a personal stake in this gamble and finds oneself trapped in this heartless, unjust, threshing-machinery devised for protecting society. In such circumstances it is hardly surprising that a section of kind-hearted liberals have raised demands for dismantling the social structure. When a society has to pay such a huge cost by way of injustice and the innocent's pain and suffering due to the very system meant for its protection, it needs to be debated whether such a society deserves to be protected at all.

The New Race..

The one significant event in the magistrate's court was the testimony of Narendranath Goswami. But before we come to that episode, let us turn our attention towards my companions in misery - the young revolutionaries who were my co-accused in the trial. Their attitude and bearing in court convinced me that a new age had begun in Bengal and a different breed of men were now walking the motherland. The Bengali youth in that era could be typified either as ones who were meek, quiet, well-mannered, harmless, of good character but with low self-esteem and bereft of lofty aspirations or the kind who were ill-behaved, boisterous, restless, violent, lacking in self-restraint and truthfulness! Many specimens of various types had taken birth in this land. But barring some eight to ten exceptionally talented, powerful personalities with leadership qualities, it was rare to come across someone outside these two major types who could be described as a worthy descendant of the illustrious Aryan race. It was not as if Bengalis did not possess intelligence or talent but they lacked in power of action and a humane approach. However, looking at this group of young boys one felt as if that rare breed of large-hearted, puissant, dynamic men of a bygone era had been reborn in India. That fearless, ingenuous look in their eyes, that dynamism in their speech, that delight and joy devoid of any sentimentality, that unaffected brightness in the midst of this crisis, that cheerfulness and pleasantness, untouched by irritation, concern or grief, was characteristic, not of the inertia-bound Indians of the time, but of a new race, of a new age and of a new orientation in action. If these were indeed murderers as claimed, then it is strange how their natures seemed remarkably unblemished by the dark shadow of murderous deeds and how their conduct did not betray the slightest hint of cruelty, recklessness or brutishness. These boys did not worry in the least for either their own future or the outcome of the trial but instead spent the period of detention by having youthful fun and indulging in laughter and games and in studies and critiques. They quickly became friends with the Prison-staff, the sentries, the convicts, the European sergeants, the detectives, the court officials and engaged in playful banter with all, without any distinction between friend or foe and high or low. The court-trial was a tiresome period for them since the proceedings were a rather dry affair. They had neither books to read nor were they permitted to talk amongst themselves to while away the time. Those who had started the practice of yoga were not advanced enough to be able to meditate in the midst of commotion. Therefore, they found it really difficult to pass the time in court. Soon, some of the boys started the practice of bringing books to the court and it was swiftly emulated by the others. This resulted in a strange spectacle after some time: whilst the fate of the forty-odd accused convicts hung in the balance in the ongoing trial and either death by hanging or transportation for life seemed likely, the convicts themselves, without so much as a glance at the proceedings, remained absorbed in perusal of Bankimchandra's novels, Vivekananda's Raja Yoga or Science of Religions, or the Gita, the Puranas, or books on European Philosophy. Neither the English sergeants nor the Indian policemen created any hindrance in this conduct. They probably reasoned that if so many of the 'caged-tigers' could be kept quiet in this manner, their own jobs would become that much easier. Moreover, they could not foresee any potential harm being caused to anyone. However, one day Mr Birley's attention was drawn to this sight. It became intolerable to him. He kept quiet for the first few days. But he could not exercise self-restraint any longer and issued orders banning the access to books. Here he was dispensing justice in the most remarkable fashion and instead of being a good audience and trying to appreciate this, everyone was absorbed in reading books! There was no doubt that such a conduct demonstrated complete disrespect for Birley's personal standing as well as the prestige of the British justice system.

Naren Goswami turns Approver

When we were detained in separate cells as part of solitary confinement, the only opportunity for brief conversation amongst ourselves was generally during the journey to the court in the police van or while waiting for the magistrate's arrival or during the tiffin-break. Those of us who already knew each other, spent every moment of this time in laughter, banter, pleasantries and discussion of all kinds, as if trying to make up for the time lost in the forced silence and solitude of the cell. I mostly limited my interaction to either Barindra or Abinash, as it was difficult to get acquainted or strike up a friendship with complete strangers in the prevailing circumstances. Hence, I would generally remain a passive participant in the conversation and laughter around me. However, there was one person who would sometimes try to strike up a conversation with me - this was none other Narendranath Goswami, who later turned into a State 'approver'. He was neither quiet nor well-behaved like the other boys but rather impudent, frivolous and unrestrained in character, speech and act. At the time of the arrest, his natural courage and boldness came to the fore but later on he found himself incapable of bearing even the slightest suffering and inconvenience of prison life. After all, he was a landlord's son, with a spoilt upbringing amidst luxury, pomp and moral indulgence. The severe austerity and constraints of prison life had driven him to despair and he expressed these feelings freely and openly to all. Gradually, he became possessed by an intense desire to escape the torturous conditions by any means possible. At first, he had hoped to retract his confession and prove that the Police had used physical torture to extract a confession of guilt from him. He mentioned that his father was determined to make requisite arrangements for false witnesses. A few days later, a new aspect was revealed to us. His father and a moktar (a pleader's agent) began to visit him frequently in the prison. Eventually detective Shamsul Alam also started holding long conversations with him in secret. During this period, Gossain's inquisitiveness and prying questions led to a preponderance of suspicion in the minds of many amongst us. He would ask many kinds of questions of Barindra and Upendra, regarding their acquaintance with or closeness to important Indian personalities, the identity of those who nourished the secret society with financial assistance, the identity of other members outside India or in other provinces of India, the next rung of leadership who would run the society and the location of other branches of the society. Soon, everyone came to know of Gossain's thirst for information and his trysts with Shamsul Alam and their growing intimacy too became an open secret. All of this was analyzed in detail and it was noticed by some that after every such darshan (visit) by the police, Gossain seemed to discover a fresh set of questions. It is needless to mention that Gossain did not receive satisfactory answers to any of his questions. When this matter first came to light, Gossain confessed that the police were trying to persuade him to turn "King's Witness". He once mentioned this matter to me in the court. I asked him: "What has been your response?" He said: "Am I going to fall for that! And even if I do agree, how much do I really know, to give the kind of evidence they want me to?" After a few days, when he broached the subject once again, I noticed that things had advanced substantially. He was standing by my side at the identification parade when he said, "The police repeatedly visit me." I told him jokingly: "Why don't you tell them that Sir Andrew Frazer was the chief patron of the secret society - that should make their persistence worth its while". Gossain responded: "I have indeed said something on these very lines. I have told them that Surendranath Banerji is our head and that I had once shown him a bomb." I was staggered at this disclosure and asked him: "Was there any need of saying such a thing?" Gossain responded: "I will send these ... to an early grave. I have fed them many such things. They will perish in trying to find corroboration. Who knows, the trial might be held up because of this." I only said this in response: "You should give up this kind of mischief. If you try to be too clever with them, you will end up being deceived yourself." I do not know the degree of truth in Gossain's words. The general belief amongst the accused was that Gossain was trying to mislead us by saying all this. My own sense was that Gossain had not yet committed himself to the idea of turning an 'approver'. Although he was leaning more and more in that direction, he also nurtured hopes of damaging the Police case by misleading them. The ones of a wicked disposition are naturally inclined to achieve their ends through deception and dishonesty. It became evident to me that the Police now held sway over Gossain and he would say or do anything under their influence to save his own skin. The degradation of a base nature through successively more ignoble acts was being enacted before our very eyes like the acts of a play. I noticed the changes in Gossain's mental make-up, his appearance, his expression and mannerisms and even in his speech. In order to justify his treachery, he would devise various kinds of economic and political pretexts from time to time. It is not very often that one gets first-hand access to such an interesting psychological study.

At first, we did not let Gossain know that his deception lay exposed to us. He too was stupid enough not to realize this for quite some time and imagined that he was helping the police in complete secrecy. But after a few days, orders were passed to keep all of us together instead of keeping some separately in solitary confinement. In this new arrangement, where people could mix and converse freely with each other, it was very difficult to keep the facade. During this phase, quarrels broke out between Gossain and a couple of the boys and Gossain was able to infer from their words and the generally unpleasant treatment from everyone around that his deception was no longer a secret. Later on, when he gave his evidence before the court, some English newspapers reported that this unexpected event had caused surprise and excitement amongst the accused. Needless to say, this report was based entirely on the imagination of the reporters. We had guessed well in advance the manner and nature of evidence that would be provided in court. In fact, even the date on which the evidence would be given was known to us. During this time, an accused went to Gossain and said - "Look, brother, life here is intolerable. I too would like to turn an 'approver'. Please tell Shamsul Alam to arrange for my release." Gossain agreed to this and after a few days, he informed the convict that a favourable consideration of his request was likely and a letter from the government had been issued to that effect. Gossain then asked the convict to eke out some important information like the location of the branches of the secret society and the identity of its leaders from Upen and the others. The make-believe 'approver' was a mischievous person with a sense of humour. He consulted with Upendra and then provided a set of imaginary names to Gossain as the said leaders of the secret society: Vishambhar Pillay in Madras, Purushottam Natekar at Satara, Professor Bhatt in Bombay and Krishnajirao Bhao of Baroda. Gossain was delighted and conveyed this 'reliable' information to the police. The police on their part searched every nook and cranny of Madras, and found many Pillays, of various shapes and sizes, but none that also answered to the name of Vishambhar or even half of it. As for Satara's Purushottam Natekar, he kept himself shrouded in utmost secrecy. In Bombay, a certain Professor Bhatt was discovered, but he turned out to be a harmless gentleman. Since he was a loyalist to the Crown, it was inconceivable that he could be linked to any secret society. Yet Gossain based his evidence upon this very hearsay from Upen and made a sacrificial offering of Vishambhar Pillay and other fictional leaders of the conspiracy at the holy feet of Norton to strengthen his made-up prosecution case. The police added to the mystery around Bir Krishnajirao Bhao by producing the copy of a telegram sent to Krishnajirao Deshpande of Baroda by some 'Ghose' from the Manicktola Gardens. The people of Baroda were unable to confirm the existence of anyone answering to that name, but since Gossain, the very epitome of truthfulness, had spoken of a Krishnajirao Bhao of Baroda, then surely Krishnajirao Bhao and Krishnajirao Deshpande must be the same person. The name of our respected friend, Keshavrao Deshpande, had already been discovered in my correspondence. Therefore, it hardly mattered whether Krishnajirao Deshpande really existed or not and it could not but be that Krishnajirao Bhao, Krishnajirao Deshpande and Keshavrao Deshpande were all names of the same person. This proved that Keshavrao Deshpande was a leader of the secret conspiracy. Such extraordinary inferences formed the basis for Mr. Norton's infamous prosecution theory.

Gossain claimed that it was at his instance that our solitary confinement ended. According to him, the police had made arrangements for us to be together in larger groups so that he could stay amidst us and glean secret information related to the conspiracy. Gossain did not realize that we were aware of his new-found vocation and continued with his probing questions regarding the identity of those engaged in the conspiracy, the locations of other branches of the secret society, the identity of the patrons and financial contributors, the identity of those who would now be in charge of the secret society and other enquiries on the same line. I have already given examples of the kind of responses he received. But a majority of Gossain's assertions turned out to be untrue. Dr. Daly had informed us that it was he who had persuaded Emerson sahib to allow this change in our accommodations. It is possible that Daly's version was correct and on being informed about the change, the police may have sought to benefit from the new arrangement in the manner Gossain had described. Be as it may, everyone welcomed this change except me; I was reluctant to be in the company of other men, as my sadhana was progressing rapidly during that period. I had had a fore-taste of samata (equality), 'desirelessness' and peace, but these states had not yet been fully established in the being. I was apprehensive that the new consciousness may diminish and even be subsumed in the company of other men or if my nascent condition was prematurely exposed to thought-waves of other persons. In fact that is exactly what happened. I understood only later that it was necessary to raise the opposing state for the completeness of my realization. Hence, the Antaryamin (Inner Guide) suddenly brought me out of solitude and flung me into an overpowering stream of outward activity. The rest of the group however found it difficult to contain their joy at this turn of events. That night everyone gathered in the largest room, in which singers like Hemchandra Das, Sachindra Sen were already resident and no one slept till two or three in the morning. That night, the silent prison reverberated with the ring of laughter, the endless stream of songs and the pent-up stories that were flowing like flooded rivers in the rainy season. We fell asleep but every time we woke up, we heard the laughter, the singing and the conversation continuing unabated. In the early hours of the morning the stream thinned out. The singers too fell asleep and our wards fell silent.