Author’s Note: While editing the previous chapter, I wasn’t happy with it in the least. It took me a long time to rewrite it satisfactorily. Here it is! Posts will be more regular now.
In a house on Scott Lane, one man was looking to make one of the biggest decisions of his life. Clad in a crisp white dhoti, a sharp blue achkan, a neat turban, and a perfectly combed handlebar mustache, Chidambaram Pillai faced Babarao and looked him straight in the eye.
“Shriman Chidambaram Pillai, do you, with your heart, mind, and soul want to become a member of Abhinav Bharat?” asked Babarao.
He looked at the twenty-odd men gathered in the room, all of them eagerly waiting for him to say yes.
Chidambaram Pillai had also traveled to Calcutta for the session of Congress, as a card-carrying member. But his fervor had dampened over the past few years, as the top leadership had deigned to listen to the opinions of patriots on the ground. He had long been crying hoarse over the unfair laws around shipping, that virtually ensured a British monopoly on shipping lines out of his native Tuticorin, as well as all over the coast of India. But none had listened to him, much less agree to raise the issue at higher levels. He had become frustrated and tried to do something about it, but opening his own shipping line to compete with the mighty British was easier said than done.
He had met Aurobindo Ghosh at the Congress session this time, and had for once had someone patiently hear out his concerns. Though Mr. Ghosh had offered little but kind words, a weight seemed to be lifted off Mr. Pillai’s shoulders. He had joined him at a social gathering later.
He had spent several hours talking out his frustrations with the Congress, the shipping industry, and the British with Tatyarao, Babarao, and several others. He somehow felt like he had finally found his people.
So when Tatyarao had said something to the tune of “We ought to form an organization where we can discuss and act on issues like this. A more action-oriented way to throw off the British yoke!”, he had readily agreed. Vehemently, even.
“I spoke to so many people here who agreed with me. If even a tenth of them agreed to join such an organization, wouldn’t it be quite something!” Chidambaram Pillai had said.
“I think I might be able to arrange something like that,” Tatya had said, “What are you doing later this evening?”
When Chidambaram Pillai showed up at the house on Scott Lane, there were a whole host of young men there, mostly belonging to the group of Tilak supporters.
And he was then informed by a smiling Tatyarao that this organization already existed, and there were many many members already.
Soon after his oath to the Goddess Bhavani, Tatya had been inspired by a book he had found - Thomas Frost’s Secret Societies of the European Revolution. He and his friends in Nasik had created the Rashtrabhakta Samooha, a secret organization meant to liberate India through armed struggle. Being the boys they were, they went all bells and whistles on it, with an oath of secrecy, an initiation ceremony, and secret symbols, passwords, and codes. They cryptically said “Ram Hari” to each other to indicate they were to meet that day. Tatya didn’t even tell Babarao about it.
Just like the book had said, Tatya decided they needed a front organization for the Rashtrabhakta Samooha. A public group, which organized benign and highly popular public events, and whose members were from the larger population. It would be used to filter and recruit worthy young men into the secret society.
They formed the Mitra Mela, and used it to organize Ganesh Chaturti and Shivaji Utsav celebrations in Nasik. Many of their friends, including Babarao joined. The group was filled with youthful exuberance, enthusiasm, and brotherhood.
In the Mitra Mela meetings, the conversations would tend toward nationalistic matters. Based on these conversations, they invited people they felt fit the Rashtrabhakta Samooha, which, by now had been renamed to Abhinav Bharat.
They had started as just a group of boys in the narrow lanes of Nasik, meeting in the house of whoever had the laxest families. Soon, Tatya had established branches that met in the sea cliffs of Bombay, and caves on the outskirts of Pune.
Tatya had come across the Lokmanya, the one who hordes of people had accepted as their leader and representative, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, while organizing the Ganesha and Shivaji festivals. Subsequently, Tatya struck a friendship with Vishwanath, the son of Bal Gangadhar Tilak, at Ferguson college, and the two started the Mitra Mela in Pune too. These sustained connections made Tilak, the tall leader of the Indian National Congress, become very close to Tatya and Babarao, seeing Tatya as a potential future Congress leader who could drag the party, kicking and screaming into the future, far away from its roots as a British safety valve.
Thus, Tatya and Babarao were among Tilak’s contingent at the Calcutta session of the Congress.
These Congress sessions were great opportunities for the Abhinav Bharat. Not only was their recruitment in full swing, but their members could travel from all over to one city without arousing any suspicion.
And now Chidambaram Pillai was in a room with members of a secret society, taking their oath, in front of a large tapestry of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj touching his sword.
There was the Mitra Mela where you could be a casual member, organizing Ganesh Chaturti celebrations, but you had to be invited to this restricted version, it seemed. And Chidambaram Pillai was completely on board. With establishing a competing shipping line with the British, he had already thrown caution to the wind in order to serve his motherland. Nothing gave him more joy than knowing he was not alone.
“Do you, with your heart, mind, and soul want to become a member of Abhinav Bharat?” Babarao said.
“I do.”
“Then repeat after me this oath,” said Babarao.
Chidambaram Pillai did.
Vande Mataram,
In the name of God,
In the name of Bharat Mata,
In the name of all the Martyrs that have shed their blood for Bharat Mata,
By the Love, innate in all men and women, that I bear to the land of my birth,
wherein the sacred ashes of my forefathers, and which is the cradle of my children,
By the tears of countless Mothers for their children whom the Foreigner has enslaved, imprisoned, tortured, and killed,
I, Valliyappan Olaganathan Chidambaram Pillai,
Convinced that without Absolute Political Independence or Swarajya my country can never rise to the exalted position among the nations of the earth which is Her due,
And Convinced also that Swarajya can never be attained except by the waging of a bloody and relentless war against the Foreigner,
Solemnly and sincerely Swear that I shall from this moment do everything in my power to fight for Independence and place the Lotus Crown of Swaraj on the head of my Mother;
And with this object, I join the Abhinav Bharat, the revolutionary Society of all Hindustan, and swear that I shall ever be true and faithful to this solemn Oath and that I shall obey the orders of this body;
If I betray the whole or any part of this solemn Oath, or if I betray this body or any other body working with a similar object,
May I be doomed to the fate of a perjurer!
His heart swelled in dutiful pride after he had spoken the oath. He looked at everyone and beamed, as they all moved in to embrace him into their fold. He had found his people. And with their strength, he would stop at nothing to serve Mother India.