Chapter 107 - Pondicherry
Aiyar, Bharathi, and Aurobindo
We’re just seven more chapters to The End here. And then, what? I don’t know yet!
I’m thinking a lot about how to release India House. I’m of course going to do the basic stuff of having it edited well, with a nice cover, available for sale, and try to market it at the best pace I can. I’m a debut author, and I don’t expect people to take a huge bet on me.
But… it doesn’t feel sufficient! There have been several, SEVERAL books detailing Savarkar’s story with incredible research. I had to hunt them out with great difficulty!
Harindra Srivastava wrote a great book titled Five Stormy Years - Savarkar in London, which I’ve used in my research, and it is eminently readable despite its detail. But it was out of print for several years, and it took me a long time to track down a copy.
British writer Adam Yamey, who has several self-published books ha written the incredibly researched Indian Freedom Fighters in London (1905 - 1910). I didn’t even know this well-researched, well-written work was even there. I stumbled on it quite by accident.
Bhuvan Lall, whom I had the pleasure of meeting recently, has written an incredibly researched book on Lala Hardayal, among several others. He has gone deep into researching sources in India, California, and Sweden, including Hardayal’s descendants. But this work hasn’t gotten him the attention he deserves.
Nirode Barooah has taken great pains to investigate Virendranath Chattopadhyay and the Hindu-German conspiracy in Germany, from German sources. It was quite by chance that I came across his book. Most well-known historians in India haven’t put in this level of work.
Really, I haven’t seen anyone other than Vikram Sampath and Sanjeev Sanyal attain mainstream success from writing about history in recent times.
All I have done is to weave a tale based on primary research. It isn’t on-ground research — I haven’t even been to London or even Pune — but it is no small feat to collate what I have and create a narrative story.
I do not want this work to sink without a trace.
Savarkar deserves better than that.
And I have no clue how to give him what he deserves. Is my manuscript even enough? I don’t know.
Anyway, here’s this chapter that follows VVS Aiyar in Pondicherry.
Pondicherry in 1910 was a veritable revolutionary hub, as a French enclave — it had Aiyar, who was Savarkar’s deputy, Aurobindo Ghosh on the run, and Mahakavi Subramanya Bharati. Then there was Nilakanta Brahmachari, whom I’ve coalesced into the character of Srinivasachari. He went to prison for an assassination we’ll see in a couple of chapters, and, like Aurobindo, he turned to spirituality in prison. He had an ashram in Nandi Hills, and he lived there until his death at 89.
When an action-oriented man like Aiyar arrives in Pondicherry, what does he do? He’s itching to take action. But then, he’s also finally happy to be united with his wife. And they have to grapple with the loss of their child when he was away. All this while there’s the threat of being kidnapped and taken away to English territory, where he would be forced to stand trial.
He decides to lie low. For now.
But, not for long.
Pondicherry
Night had fallen by the time Aiyar’s jutka clattered down Pondicherry’s wide, right-angled streets.
He got off and knocked on the door of a nondescript house.
The door opened. Srinivasachari, tall and imposing with a perfect sricharanam, stood there, wondering who this Muslim man was.
“Did you get the Divine Commedia and the Italian dictionary that I sent?” Aiyar asked brightly.
Srinivasachari looked baffled. He indeed had received a copy of Divina Commedia, with an Italian dictionary. Was this the sender? Why was he sending it?
“Yes…” He started.
“I’m Mani Aiyar.”
Srinivasachari’s face lit up in surprise.
“Come inside, come inside, where are my manners?” he said, welcoming Aiyar in and unrolling a mat for him.
Subramanya Bharati appeared behind him.
“Kavi Subramanya Bharati?!” Aiyar said in pleasant surprise, not expecting this noted poet and writer in their midst. But, of course, Chari had told him about this little French enclave in India where his brother housed revolutionaries on the run. It made sense that Subbayya, with all the cases against him, would be here.
“Subbayya, do you know who this is?” Srinivasachari said in an excited voice, “This is the elusive Mani Aiyar, who is currently at large in both India and England.”
“What a privilege it is to host you fugitives,” Srinivasachari chuckled.
“Mythili!” he called out to his wife, “Set another leaf for dinner. Our new guest is going to stay awhile.”
