Yerwada 231116 PDF

Tales from Yerwada Jail
Rita Shahani
translated by Saaz Aggarwal
Published by black-and-white fountain

2 Flemington Terrace, Clover Village, Wanowari, Pune 411040, India
www.blackandwhitefountain.com
For feedback and inquiries email blackandwhitefountain@gmail.com
First Edition November 2013
ISBN No. 978-81-922728-4-9
Published in Sindhi as Yerwada jaila jyu kahaniyoon by Rita Shahani
translated by Saaz Aggarwal
Book design, cover design and original images by Veda Aggarwal
Copyright Saaz Aggarwal 2013
Dedicated to
the memory
of my beloved husband
Vishnu Shahani
Contents
Foreword by Gobind Malhi
PART I: TALES FROM YERWADA JAIL
A nightly bedtime story
Did you really make bombs?
Objectionable material
But what happened to Ami and the children?
A visit to the jail
PART II: MY HUSBANDS JAIL FRIENDS
Jail beds, jail food
The Maharashtra Conspiracy Case
PART III: SHE WAS A PILLAR OF STRENGTH
Professor of English
Life in a cantonment town
PART IV: THE SINDH STORY
Fifty Years of Indian Independence
Our unsung heroes
The Sindh Story
A land of poetry and mysticism
Part V: VASUDAIVA KUTUMBAKAM
A latter-day freedom struggle
Secular Sanghi
Arranged marriage
Karma marga, the path of right action
No more jail stories
Loss by Madhavi Kapur
Glossary
7
11
19
25
33
37
45
57
69
81
95
103
109
121
129
133
139
147
153
161
162
Foreword
e celebrated the Golden Jubilee of Indian

Independence with enthusiasm and pride.
How much and in what ways we have
prospered in those fifty years is a matter of opinion.
However, there is one thing that we all agree upon: our
freedom was not handed to us on a platter. Although
our rulers wished to be perceived as liberal, India
was not treated with generosity. Many of us were
martyred. Thousands held their heads up with pride
when confronted by lashes and even bullets. Lakhs
were imprisoned. Crores made one sacrifice or another.
In the history of this freedom movement, Rita Shahani
gives us here the story of one representative family.
On one side we see the ugly picture of the arrogant
English and the ones who upheld their dictatorship.
On the other is the force of patriotism which led to
eventual victory.
Ritas lively descriptions are compelling. The sorrows
and pain of one family, their courage and teamwork, the
sacrifices they endured, all provide a glowing example
Rita Shahani
of what ordinary Indians endured during that time.

Since it is her own family, the family into which she
married, we observe this from close quarters. Ritas
father-in-law Jivatram and her husband Vishnu both
spent months together in jail. It was Vishnu himself,
mostly while talking to his wife and children, who
spoke of his own and his fathers jail experiences. She
had already started documenting them, asking him for
information, when he suddenly passed away. A few of
these articles had appeared in Hindvasi and readers
had even written in their responses but with Vishnus
sad demise the articles stopped. Then Rita decided to
continue writing the story. To get more details, she
interviewed other family members and close friends.
I knew Vishnu Shahani as a lovable person of high
principles, strongly humanitarian, and a devoted
social worker. He spent a lot of his time in the service
of others. He was also committed to preserving and
promoting Sindhi culture. He was a man with strong
leadership qualities, stamped with his own nature and
principles. He would never tell someone to go and
do something. His way was to say: Let us do this.
For his ideals he was prepared to make any personal
sacrifice and he was able to convince others to do
so too. Vishnu was a man who was easy to love and
respect.
Everybody knows that Motilal Nehru was influenced
by his son Jawaharlals patriotism to participate in
the freedom movement. In Vishnus case, he not only
influenced his father but also took him along to jail.
10
Rita has also made it clear that her father-in-law had

his own powerful anti-British feeling, and freely made
sacrifices for his own convictions. The way in which
Rita has brought these two heroes of her book to life
is admirable. In their absence, the family faced many
difficulties. Ritas descriptions, laced with detail and
emotion, create a powerful impact.
Apart from these two main characters, the role of the
two women members of the family is also depicted
in an impressive way. Sati Shahani, Vishnus sister,
emerges as an icon worthy of respect, love, and pride,
showing the heights to which a woman can rise. At a
time when women were protected inside the home,
she came forward boldly to confront every danger for
the sake of her family.
I knew, from Ritas previous writings, that Vishnu was
the kind of person who would go out of his way to
help others, freely sacrificing the comfort of his own
family. It could not have been easy to live with such
an idealistic husband. Later in this book, too, Rita
shows us this aspect of Vishnu.
I thought I knew Vishnu closely and was surprised
to learn so much more about him. I applaud the words
that flowed from Ritas pen. Today Vishnu is no longer
amongst us, but his memory lives on in her tribute to
her late husband.
Gobind Malhi
November 1998
11
The Central Prison located at Yerwada, Pune, is the

largest jail in the State of Maharashtra. It was built
by the British in the nineteenth century. During
the Quit India movement of 1942, it was so full
of political prisoners that it became necessary to
prepare and put to use other temporary jails.
Part I
A nightly bedtime story
e had finished our dinner and were getting

ready for bed. A dim night light shone
from the childrens room. Kumar and
Lalita were lying on their beds. It was 1970; Kumar
was seven and Lalita twelve. Vishnu was sitting
comfortably on the chair placed between the beds. I
was sitting at the desk, trying to read in the light of the
table lamp, and listening. It was story time.
During the Quit India movement of 1942, Vishnu and
his father had been guests of the Government of India
the British Government of India in Yerwada Jail.
It had become a habit for Vishnu to tell the children
bedtime stories of their time in jail. Kumar would
refuse to sleep until his father had told him one or
two interesting incidents. Both children would be
impatient to hear what their father was going to tell
them.
Listen, children, he began.
In the city of Pune, in the days of the British, there
Jivatram Shahani (Baba), his wife Devi (Ami), Sati,

Vishnu, and Devis sister Laali, outside Modern Book
Stall on East Street, Pune in 1929.
was a large military cantonment. It is the southern

headquarters of the Indian army, and we call it the
Southern Command, but in those days it was the
Southern Army. Most of the officers and soldiers were
British. It was a prestigious posting, and they were
hand-picked and brought out from England. Our
bookshop is in the cantonment area. In those days
too, it was inside the cantonment area. Our shop was
started by your grandfather in 1926. There werent
many shops on East Street back then, and ours was
the only bookshop. Naturally the English officers
would come to us to buy their books.
They were our rulers and there was a tendency
among Indians to fear their white skin and autocratic
manner. And many of them were rude and insulting to
us. If they sat outside a shop in their cars, shopkeepers
would rush out with a greeting and salute. Folding
their hands and bowing, they would ask, What can
I get for you Sahib? The British officers had got
quite used to being treated like that by the native
shopkeepers. But we never did anything like that!
But why, Dada? Kumar asked.
Well, Baba had a rule that anyone who wanted a
book, whether he was English or Indian, had to come
inside the shop and select it himself. Your grandfather
and I would never serve anyone outside the shop!
So that must have made them very angry? That was
Lalita.
17
Rita Shahani
Yes, they would be very angry! But Baba was firm

about this rule. If it was a wounded soldier then we
would go out and serve him, but that was the only
exception.
Quite often they would make insulting remarks
about Indians.
This bloody country!
You damn Indians!
Baba would reply in the same tone to every rude word
they said. He would say firmly, Are you insulting the
country that feeds you? You should be ashamed of
yourself!
One of the things they disliked most about us was
that we all wore khadi. In those days, khadi was a
symbol of our national identity. When we wore it we
felt proud of ourselves as Indians. And the British
despised it when we felt proud of ourselves!
What else did they despise, Dada? asked Kumar.
On the birthday of the English emperor, and on
other state occasions, every shop was expected to fly
the British flag, the Union Jack. Naturally we were
expected to do so too but we never did. And it
wasnt just the big flag we were against you would
never even see a small Union Jack inside our shop!
What else, Dada?
Well, Gandhi had just come out with a little book
18
called Quit India. The cover

had these words written
on it in large letters, QUIT
INDIA! So we filled the
display case at the entrance
of our shop with dozens of
these books. Every time
British soldiers entered our
shop they would see Quit
India! Quit India! staring
down at them. And they
would be livid.
Both children began to
giggle. Kumar began to
clap his hands Wow,
Dada, what a good idea!
he said.
Well, this meant that they
became more and more
angry with us.
Then what happened?
One day, a group of
soldiers burst into our
shop. They began opening
the drawers, pulling out
my papers and throwing
them around. Some of
these were the pamphlets
and clandestine messages
19
Rita Shahani
that I used to distribute. In my drawers they found

handwritten papers. One paper was entitled An
Appeal to British Troops.
One of the books that fell into the hands of the British
soldiers that day was about how to make bombs. They
immediately arrested my father and me, even though
my father had never done any underground work.
Our home was also raided.
It was decreed that our family would be out of
bounds from the cantonment. This meant that no
one from our family was allowed to set foot in the
cantonment! So our family had to close the shop and
leave our home.
With Baba and me in jail, Ami and the other children
had a very difficult time. It was only in August 1945,
when the Second World War ended, that our family
was freed from the out of bounds decree.
Dada, tell us more, what did Ami and the children
do?
Ill tell you more tomorrow! Now be still and go to
sleep.
20
Did you really make

bombs?
he next morning, after the children left for

school, Vishnu and I sat at the table drinking
tea.
I asked Vishnu, Yesterday you were talking about

some papers which the English soldiers found in your
drawers with instructions to make bombs! Were you
really involved in making bombs?
Why are you asking me these questions so early in
the morning! he replied.
I said, I didnt want to talk about it in front of
the children. What would they think? They are too
impressionable. But Im anxious to know.
Ok then listen, he said. Underground work is team
work. Its not something that can be done by one
person working alone. Large groups of people work
together. As far as possible they remain anonymous.
Vishnu and Rita on a family holiday in

Mahableshwar in 1968.
So were you involved in such a group? I asked

Yes, he replied, I was involved! One person would
write; another would send. One person would make;
another would use. My role was to take things from
one to another.
That must have been dangerous, I said softly.
Yes, of course it was dangerous! he said. Its not
possible to do such work without taking risks. There
were many who willingly offered their heads, quite
prepared to be covered in shrouds if the need ever
arose. It was not a simple task, wresting freedom from
a powerful empire.
Mohandas Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Abul Kalam
Azad, Bal Gangadhar Tilak and others gave speeches.
They inspired us with courage it was like a fever that
infected us all. Amongst the thousands who risked
their lives, I was one.
I understand that, I said. But werent Ami and
Baba worried? And didnt they try to persuade you to
stay out of it?
Ami and Baba didnt know about any of this, he
replied.
Well, I said, you must explain one thing to me.
Gandhi was preaching Ahimsa. He wanted us to
follow the path of non-violence. How come there were
so many of you taking part in these violent acts?
Vishnu was silent for a while. Then he said, There
23
Rita Shahani
were two movements in our country and they were

taking place alongside at the same time. Many
people were just not satisfied with what Gandhi was
proposing.
On 14 July 1942, the Quit India movement was
proposed at a meeting of the All India Congress
Committee and it was passed a few days later, on the
18th. As Gandhi exhorted the British to leave India as
soon as possible, he said in his speech on 8 August
1942:
Here is a mantra, a short one, that I give you.
You may imprint it on your hearts and let
every breath of yours give expression to it.
The mantra is: Do or Die. We shall either
free India or die in the attempt; we shall not
live to see the perpetuation of our slavery.
Do or die! That was something that appealed to us.
We understood it from the bottom of our hearts. And
we were prepared for it.
Gandhi made us visualise what it could mean if we
felt ourselves free from this moment on! We would no
longer be slaves of any empire. As you can imagine,
these speeches filled the veins of his listeners with
passion and energy! And this led to difficult times for
the British administration.
Really? I asked him. Things are so different these
days. It seems as if the goal of freedom gave us unity
and energy. But we dont have nationalistic feelings
24
like that anymore! These days, people only think of

their own selfish needs and dont think about others,
or the good of society, at all.
Yes, thats true, he agreed, shaking his head
regretfully. But wait, let me finish what I was telling
you. There were two parallel streams of thought.
Subhash Chandra Bose and Abul Kalam Azad did not
subscribe to Gandhis policy of Ahimsa. Netaji was
working hard to prepare his army, the Azad Hind
Fauj. And by June 1942, it was ready. He believed that
to achieve freedom, spiritual power would not suffice;
that we would have to invest physical and mental
energy too. It was clear that the Second World War
had weakened the British Empire at a global level.
He believed that India should take advantage of this
situation to achieve independence. By participating in
world politics, we could join forces with the enemies
of the British and defeat them.
I had no idea! I said, quite surprised.
Yes. And he was willing to stake his life. He
travelled to Rome, Berlin and Moscow and discussed
various options with the heads of government there.
Finally, in a meeting of one hundred and twentyfive representatives of South East Asian countries
in Bangkok on 15 June 1942, the establishment of
the Azad Hind Fauj was announced. Japan released
its Indian prisoners of war in Burma and together
they began to march towards Delhi in a fervour of
patriotism. We all loved the marching song of Boses
25
Rita Shahani
army which urged us to step forward, singing happily,

and joyously surrender our lives for the motherland:
Qadam qadam badhaye ja
Khushi ke geet gaye ja
Yeh zindagi hai qaum ki
Tu kaum pe lutaye ja!
That was the scene outside India. Within the
country too, there was great turmoil. Azad made
speeches indicating that, in his opinion, for the
conditions prevailing in our country, just ahimsa was
not sufficient. You could hear a chorus of Inquilab
Zindabad! ringing out wherever you went. In some
places railway tracks were being vandalised and in
others electric lines were being cut. People were setting
fire to government property; others were exploding
bombs. While all this was going on, it was just not
possible to sit continue with ones work as before!
Did all these things really happen in Pune? I asked,
surprised.
Yes. The Capitol Bomb Case is famous: there was an
explosion in the Capitol Cinema. I was not involved.
It happened the day after I went to jail and we heard
about it there. The Poona Club building was also set
on fire. These were places the British officers used to
frequent. Later, a bomb was placed in the West End
Cinema too. But the authorities got information about
this, and they managed to defuse it.
26
Objectionable material
t was bedtime again. The children were waiting

for their story. Said Kumar, Dada, please tell us
properly about the time the police came to the
shop to arrest you. Please!
In those days, I was a college student, Vishnu began.
I would leave home in the morning and get back at 4
in the evening, and open the shop.
That day I was slightly delayed. So Baba opened the
shop. I was walking towards it, and what did I see!
There were policemen standing outside. And from
a distance I could see more policemen inside, busy
searching through the drawers.
I remembered with a start that there were all kinds
of papers and leaflets at home which might get us into
trouble, and I started running towards the house. There
too I saw police patrolling outside. Trying to stay calm
and pretending nothing was wrong, I entered.
We had an old coal boiler in which we used to heat
water for our baths. I put it on. Gathering up all the
Rita Shahani
papers I could find, I started stuffing them into the fire.

The papers began to burn and very soon smoke was
pouring out of the stove. When the policemen realised
there was smoke, they became suspicious. Knocking
on the door, they demanded to know where the smoke
was coming from.
I told them very calmly, Ive just come back from
college. I now have to have a bath and get ready to go
and open my shop. Ive just put the water to heat and
the boiler seems to be smoking.
Wow! That was smart! said Kumar excitedly.
I quickly took some leaflets and concealed them
under the rim of the toilet seat, Vishnu continued,
laughing.
You mean they had no idea?
Who would think of looking in a place like that!
But they did find some papers, didnt they?
Yes, some documents did fall into their hands. And it
was on that basis that we were captured.
Dada where did the British police officers take you
and Baba? asked Kumar.
The police first took us to Faraskhana in the city,
replied Vishnu.
Where is that?
Faraskhana is bang in the middle of Pune city, right
28
near Lakshmi Road. There was a large hall there, and

in the middle of the hall was a cage. An 8-foot by
8-foot cage. They kept Baba and me there that first
night.
In a cage? They closed it and left you there? asked
Lalita in horror.
Yes!
And you just sat there quietly?
Well, we had no other option.
Then what happened?
We spent the night in the cage. The next day we were
taken to the Central Prison.
And where did they make you stay there?
Inside the jail there are barracks laid out in concentric
circles. The more dangerous prisoners were kept
deeper inside which made it easier for the jailers to
manage them.
We political prisoners were housed in the third layer.
There was a vacant place right in the middle circle,
protected by barbed wire, and it was guarded by
criminals.
You mean the government was using criminals as
their security guards? asked Lalita.
Yes! laughed Vishnu, Who could be more suitable
for security guards than criminals?
29
Rita Shahani
Oh! What did they look like?

Well, they were young men, tough and muscular.
They wore yellow pyjamas with square vests, and a
belt around the waist.
But Dada what clothes did you wear? That was
Kumars eager voice I could hear in the dim light.
They gave us clothes. They were blue and white
checks, and made of coarse, thick cloth. But I continued
to wear my own clothes from the very first day.
But how?
I sent for them from home.
Did they allow you to do that?
Yes. I got two sets of clothes from home.
Only two? asked Kumar.
Two were quite enough. I would wash one and wear
the other.
You washed your clothes yourself?
Yes, son. Its not like I had my servants there with
me. You seem to have forgotten than I was in jail!
Oh yes, thats right.
I not only washed my own clothes there but also
Babas.
What! And did you have to wash vessels too?
Yes twice a day after each meal. Our dabba came
30
from home and I would wash that. I had to wash our

plates too.
No wonder even now dada does all his own work by
himself, said Lalita proudly.
Oh is that so! I objected loudly. In fact he now gets
served hand and foot.
Well, replied Vishnu quietly, You may be cooking
the food and serving me, but I do things for myself
and dont order you around as many others do.
What do you mean!
Have I ever told you to go and get my kurta, get my
pajama, iron my clothes as most men do? I take out
my own clothes and put them away too.
Yes, thats true, I thought to myself, but remained
silent.
But Dada, we are talking about jail. Why is Mummy
bringing all this into it?
Well these things are also important, said Vishnu,
smiling at Kumar. I had certain experiences in jail,
and they must have had an impact on my life and
continue to influence me.
What sort of food did they give you?
After a day or two of eating jail food, we started
getting a dabba from home. Ami used to send us
quite a lot of food and we used to share it with our
companions. She always sent us extra chappatis.
31
Rita Shahani
What about the bathroom?

There was only one toilet. And there were one
hundred and twenty-five of us prisoners.
Just one toilet for one hundred and twenty-five
people!
Yes. We managed somehow. But it was very difficult
for Baba and he fell ill.
Then?
Then they shifted us to another jail.
East Street, Pune, circa 1950

Illustration courtesy INTACH
32
But what happened to

Ami and the children?
ada, after you and Baba went to jail, what

happened to Ami and the other children?
asked Lalita.
Ami and our family had a very difficult time. In those

days Sati was twenty-two years old, Savitri was eleven,
Sundri was eight. Apart from the three girls there was
my brother Moti, your chacha. At that time he was
fifteen.
Such a big family! said Kumar. How could Moti
look after all of them when he was so small?
Well, Sati is two years older than me. And it was she
who took care of the family.
They had to leave our home in the cantonment. There
was a decree that they could no longer live there. Our
friends and neighbours began to avoid them! After all,
everyone was afraid for their own skins. They did not
want to get involved. Nobody wanted to be identified
Rita Shahani
as an enemy of the British and be harassed by them.

So when they saw any one of the family, they would
turn away and pretend they hadnt seen.
Were your neighbours such heartless cowards?
Lalita asked with surprise.
Yes Babla. This is the way the world works. People
think first of their own needs. Its not that easy to find
people who live by strong, moral values and go out of
their way to help others.
Then what happened?
Ami and the other children had to take shelter in
the Morarji Gokuldas Gujarati Dharamshala near the
station.
A dharamshala? the children gasped.
Yes they had no other option. Our relative Sucheta
Kriplani, sister of the Congress leader Acharya
Kriplani, tried to get help but even after that, they
had to move from one temporary home to another.
In the end they settled in Ramzan Cottage, close to
the Synagogue, the Lal Deval. It was just outside the
cantonment.
Oh yes, said Lalita, Lal Deval is right near us.
But why did they want to live near the cantonment?
asked Kumar.
Well, we had kept the Modern Book Stall open even
though it was out of bounds for soldiers. Sati would
34
open the shop in the morning for a few hours and then
again for a while in the evening. Living close to the
cantonment meant that she could go and come from
there easily. The children were also going to schools
which were close to Ramzan Cottage.
But how did Didi manage such a big shop all by
herself! asked Lalita.
Why not, my dear? Your Didi is a smart and
courageous woman. She knows the difference between
right and wrong. And you know that she is capable of
speaking her mind quite bluntly!
Thats right, Dada, hasnt Didi been a professor of
English all her life?
She became a professor later. At that time, she was
still a young student. But really, it was an extremely
difficult time for us. Amis brother Kishna Malkani,
Kewals elder brother, came from Hyderabad, Sindh,
to stay with us, and that helped. Then he was taken
to jail too.
Dada, you have only described the jail to us. Please
take us there some time and show us. We want to see
it ourselves! said Lalita.
Yes of course we must go with Dada to see the jail,
Kumar piped up in support of his sister.
I will take you to show you the jail next Sunday.
Actually we were put in three different jails.
Three jails?
35
Rita Shahani
Yes. One was the main Central Prison. Then we were

in the juvenile prison for a few months. But they were
taking so many of us freedom fighters prisoner that
the space in these buildings was insufficient, and they
became very badly overcrowded. So they set up the
Camp Jail, and that was the third prison we were in.
Youll definitely take us there on Sunday?
Yes I will, for sure.
Mrs Devi Shahani (Ami) declared undesirable by

the authorities and ordered to leave the Poona
Cantonment.
36
A visit to the jail
e were driving along the airport road.

Vishnu turned left. In a short while we
arrived at an impressive gate. What a
grand gate! It looked worthy of a jail. In large letters
it said, Yerwada Central Jail.
Uniformed guards with guns were standing outside. A
high wall stretched on either side of it. Vishnu parked
and we sat in the car for a few minutes to get a good
look before he started again.
Dada where are we going?
Im going to show you the jail to which we were
shifted and which was more comfortable.
In another five minutes we stopped outside what
looked like a bungalow.
What is this?
This is the reformatory where juvenile prisoners
are housed. But in those days political prisoners
Rita Shahani
The externment order on Ami was lifted on 1

October 1944, more than a year after Vishnu was
released from jail. However, he and Baba were still
forbidden from entering the cantonment. Vishnus
reprieve came on 2 August 1945, and Babas on 12
August 1945.
38
were accommodated here. Because we were detained

without trial, we were also called detenues. Can you
see that tree there?
Yes, there was a tree there, inside the compound. It
stood a short distance away from the wall, and rose
about eight to ten feet higher than it.
Whats so special about this tree, Dada?
When we were inside and Ami missed me very badly,
she would come and stand outside. I used to climb the
tree and she would look at me, feasting her eyes!
Dada, how dramatic! said Lalita eagerly. It sounds
like a movie story.
Well, this is not a movie it is something that
actually happened. You know, quite often reality is
more interesting than movies!
Kumar was silent. He stared, speechless, trying to take
it all in and visualise what his father was describing.
Dada, was this tree there even in those days? he
asked.
Kumar, havent you been listening to me? Yes, it was
right here, at this very spot! And we are standing at
the very spot where Ami would stand and look at me.
Trees dont change their position! And they live for
quite a long time, you know!
But why did Ami come here?
Ami would come here so that she could gaze at her
39
Rita Shahani
son! explained Lalita.

Her son? You mean she came here to gaze at you,
Dada?
Kumar cant you understand such a simple thing!
scolded Lalita. Dada explained it all to us, why are
you asking such silly questions?
Let him ask, Lalita. He should understand whatever
he wants to know, I interrupted, and continued,
Kumar, Ami wanted to see your Dada. She would
gaze at him and feel better. It was something she had
to do to console herself that everything was alright
with her Kikko.
Kikko? asked Kumar.
Arre bhai. Ami calls our Dada Kikko, doesnt she!
said Lalita impatiently.
Oh yes, he agreed.
Thats how a mother feels! I said. She just has to
look at her children to feel happy. You must understand
this.
Now you tell me, Vishnu continued, if you are
separated from your mother wouldnt you cry? And
wouldnt your mother cry if you were taken away
from her?
Ami felt an extraordinary love for your Dada, I said.
She used to tell me, When Kikko and Baba were in
jail, my eyes were never dry. I had tears rolling down
40
my cheeks all the time. When I saw people laughing, I

would wonder, how can they laugh!
Really, did she cry that much? asked Kumar.
Yes. When she began to weep, others in the family
would bring her here. When I came out and climbed
the tree, she could look at me and feel better.
But how could you know that she was coming and
climb the tree at that time? asked Lalita.
Thats a good question. A dabba was sent to us from
home every day. Ami used to smuggle letters in with
the food. She used to tell me what time to come out
and I used to do that.
But didnt anyone ask you why you were climbing
that tree? Didnt they try to stop you?
No. No one said anything.
But Dada why is there a tree so close to the wall of
the jail? Anyone could climb it and jump over the wall
and escape!
Take a closer look at the tree. It is not that close to
the wall. If somebody jumps, he would only fall inside
the compound. There was no question of escaping.
Dada, did you try to jump? Is that how you know?
Yes I did try it. And I did fall inside. After all, this is
a prison. And jailers are not that foolish!
Dada, have you noticed the walls of the jail on the
41
Rita Shahani
airport road? There are double walls, and they are so

high!
Yes, my son. Criminals are imprisoned there. And
these days there are dangerous criminals in Pune so
they have to be very careful. There are high double
walls, and they also have search lights with strong
beams.
Tell me one thing, Dada. Baba was in jail too. Didnt
Ami cry for him too?
Crying had become second nature to Ami. But more
than Baba she was anxious for me. Mothers always
think of their children as little ones. I was twenty years
old. But Ami still went around calling me little Kikko!
Baba could not climb the tree he was not a young
man. So Ami had to be patient. She could only look at
me for comfort.
Shall we go? asked Vishnu, starting the engine.
I nodded.
The car started moving.
42
Part II
My husbands jail friends
Excerpt from the transcript of an interview of

Baburao Vithoba Chavan on 8 February 1971 for the
archives of The Centre of South Asian Studies at
Cambridge University.
Jail beds, jail food
t was Sunday. At breakfast time Vishnu informed

us that his friend Mahendra Desai would be
joining us for dinner. Perhaps you remember
him? he asked.
Yes, Dada, piped up Lalita, Isnt he the same
Mahendra Desai who lives in Delhi? You took us to
his home when we went there two years ago.
Yes, thats the one, replied Vishnu. He holds a
prominent position in All India Radio. And before
that he was Resident Editor of the Times of India for
some years.
In fact, I interrupted, hes quite a well-known
writer too. He is translating his father Mahadev
Desais diaries into Gujarati. His father was Mohandas
Gandhis personal assistant and very close to him. He
showed me the diaries when I visited him in Delhi,
and they were quite fascinating.
Yes, continued Vishnu. Mahendra was with us in
Yerwada jail. And since you two are so very interested
Mahadev Desais Day-to-Day with Gandhi diaries have

intricate details of Mohandas Gandhis activities,
speeches, correspondence and even thoughts
expressed from time to time.
Source: www.mahadevdesai.org
in all that goes on inside a jail, you can ask him

whatever you want!
No Dada, how can we ask him questions! We hardly
know him.
Dont worry, Ill bring up the subject myself. Maybe
hell remember something I havent told you yet.
The Desai family had been friends with my in-laws for
a long time. They were hard-core Congress people. In
those days, the Congress was not a political party as it
is now. The Government of India was British. We were
under British rule, and the Indian National Congress
had been established as an annual assembly of welleducated, well-placed young men and a few women,
who came together to discuss issues of national
concern. As the freedom movement progressed, it
became more and more important. Mahendra Desais
family, and our family too, had been very involved
and it was a strong bond between them. Mahendras
father was a close friend of Baba and after we were
married their home was one of the first I was taken
to visit as a new bride. I remember going with Baba,
Ami, and Vishnu to their traditional Gujarati mansion
in Punes Kanchangalli, where I received a very warm
welcome indeed.
The struggles our families had experienced, and the
involvement of our menfolk in the freedom struggle,
had deepened their friendship.
Mahendra arrived and even before we sat down to
47
Rita Shahani
dinner, they started reminiscing about their time in

jail.
Vishnubhai and Baba and I spent five months in the
same tent, Mahendra remarked.
Are you sure it was five months? asked Vishnu.
Yes I remember this very well. You were already in
jail when I arrived. After five months I was shifted to a
jail in Gujarat. Till then we were together in the same
tent. As the British kept imprisoning people, numbers
grew and space became short. So they had set up this
special camp jail for us.
How many people could be accommodated inside
one tent? I asked.
There were five of us in ours Vishnu, Baba and me,
and another two. Some tents had more.
Where did you sleep? asked Kumar.
On the ground. You dont get beds in jail!
Wasnt that uncomfortable? Lalita wanted to know.
Uncomfortable? replied Mahendra, No, not really.
We had no complaints. We were quite happy!
How did you spend your time?
Well, we spent a lot of time reading and writing. And
we spent quite a lot of time chatting said Mahendra.
Time passed quite easily.
Uncle, were there any restrictions? asked Lalita.
48
Did they try to stop you from meeting each other?

Yes they did make attempts to keep us apart, said
Mahendra. Prisoners who were being held in the
tents were not allowed to meet those in the barracks.
Those of us who lived in the tents were allowed to
mingle freely. But we used to get newspapers from the
barracks.
Added Vishnu, A newspaper was a luxury, because
we were very eager to stay abreast of political events.
Somehow we would manage to lay our hands on them.
And who lived in the barracks in those days? I asked.
Well, replied Vishnu, Morarji Desai was there for
some time. But Kaka Gadgil, Sharad Marathe, and
Gopal Patwardhan were with us in the tents. Ashok
Mehta and Yusuf Meherali were there too. And there
were many of us whose names are not as well known.
You may have noticed Kaka Gadgils statute near
the Shaniwarwada in Pune, Mahendra told the
children. After Independence, Kaka Gadgil was made
Governor of Punjab. Somehow, we did not achieve all
that much. But we made our sacrifices too!
Yes, my friend, said Vishnu, you speak the truth.
And we have no regrets of any kind. What we did, we
did for our country, from the bottom of our hearts.
We listened in silence.
Vishnubhai, Mahendra continued nostalgically, do
you remember we would get dabbas from our homes?
49
Rita Shahani
My mother and your Ami used to send us food.

He looked at the children and said, Lalita and Kumar,
listen carefully. In those days there was a shortage of
grain. People had to buy wheat and rice and other
essential groceries on ration. There was never enough.
There were traders who hoarded grain and would sell
it at a higher price. People who had money and were
willing to pay the higher prices could buy as much as
they wanted! But our parents were so idealistic that
they would rather have starved to death than buy any
of these essential items in the black market.
Even then, Vishnubhai, he continued turning to
Vishnu, they made sure that they sent us plenty of
food.
Yes, agreed Vishnu. We would not only have
enough to fill our own stomachs but could even share
the food they sent us with our jail-mates.
You can imagine what this meant, said Mahendra.
Our families were eating less. They went hungry to
send us plenty of food, even more than we needed for
ourselves.
There was silence for a while, which I broke by saying,
Now that were talking about food, lets go and have
dinner.
We sat down to eat and the conversation turned
to other subjects. But as soon as we had finished,
the political discussion resumed. Lalita, who had
obviously been waiting to return to the subject, said,
50
Uncle, what did you do in the evenings?

Beta, now stop worrying Uncle, Vishnu smiled at
her. Im sure he wants to talk about something else!
Bhai, it is a good sign that our children are interested
in these things, responded Mahendra. Why shouldnt
we tell them about our golden past! Children, in the
evenings those with a religious inclination would
perform pooja or read from one of the religious books.
Sometimes we would get together in small groups and
talk.
Yes, said Vishnu. Quite often I would address
groups of other prisoners. We had all been imprisoned
because of our dedication to the freedom movement
and very soon we would be deep in political discussion.
At the end we would chant an inspiring slogan.
Sometimes we would call out, Vande Mataram!
One of us would shout Vande! and the rest would
chorus in raised voices, Mataram!
When they heard this, the jail authorities would come
running. Quite often when this happened and I said,
Vande! the number of voices shouting Mataram!
would fade away. The jailers would rush in to disperse
us and we would scatter.
Didnt they do anything to you? asked one of the
children.
No, Mahendra replied, They were not allowed
to punish the detenues. But they would sometimes
threaten us with khana bandh, saying that if we
51
Kumar and Lalita pose proudly with the brand new

family radiogram, a coveted possession in 1968.
continued shouting and raising slogans, we would not

be given food.
Our food was coming from home so that didnt
bother us, Vishnu laughed. But there were others
who may have feared that the jailers would starve
them. In reality, these threats carried no weight. They
were bound to give us food under any circumstances,
and they did.
Tell us more, Uncle! said Kumar.
Mahendra smiled, thinking back to what he had
referred to sardonically as his golden past. One of
the detenues was able to smuggle a radio in. In those
days the radios were rather large. How he managed
to get it in, I dont remember. But for a few days we
enjoyed gathering together and listening to fresh news
on the radio. Very soon the radio was confiscated.
Did you listen to songs also? asked Kumar.
Mahendra laughed. No, son, he said. It was news
about our freedom struggle that we were interested in.
Every day there were new acts of defiance. And every
day the British were putting our leaders in jail. We
had been put away, but we wanted to know how our
movement was progressing! And our jailers did not
want us to know.
Dada, tell us more! said Lalita.
Yes. Kasturba Gandhi had just passed away at the
Aga Khan Palace. Mahendra, dont you remember
53
Rita Shahani
this?
Yes, I remember.
That day we kept a memorial fast and did not eat
anything.
Yes, neither of us ate anything that day.
But why, Dada?
Well we just did not feel like eating. There were many
others who fasted that day.
I remember that, said Mahendra. You children
live in a world of plenty but in those days, staying
without food all day was a way of showing that we
cared about people who had less.
And I began to grow a beard, Vishnu mused.
Really, Dada? You stopped shaving!
Yes, I let my beard grow.
The children were astonished to hear this.
I remember! said Mahendra. You stopped shaving
a few days before I was sent off to Gujarat, and your
beard had begun to grow.
After you left, my beard grew quite long, Vishnu
told him.
Dada, do you have a photo of that time? Lalita
asked enthusiastically. We want to see you with a
beard!
54
What a mistake! Vishnu said, I did not get my

photo taken then. Or I could have shown it to you
very proudly!
Oh Dada why didnt you do that! said Kumar,
disappointed.
Dada, when did you get rid of your beard? asked
Lalita.
When I returned home from jail, Ami insisted that I
should shave it off.
Oh Dada we really want to see you with a beard!
Well thats easy! I can grow it now just to show
you.
But now whats the point. We want to see you the way
you were then. We want to see an old photograph!
Vishnu and Mahendra began to laugh.
55
Rita Shahani
Datta Guru, Pheroze Boyce and Vishnu, the very

best of friends. Pheroze Boyce, whose office was in
the same row of shops, visited Modern Book Stall
at least twice every day for more than fifty years.
While Vishnu and Baba were in jail, he was a source
of great moral support to Sati. Quite often he
would pick up the dabba from Ami and ride over to
the jail on his bicycle to deliver Vishnu and Baba
their lunch.
56
The Maharashtra
Conspiracy Case
bout a month after Vishnu died, Datta Guru

came to pay condolence. My children were
now grown up, living in their own homes,
telling bedtime stories to their own children. The
idea of writing this book was already in my mind. In
fact I had started writing some time ago, and the first
few instalments had already appeared in the Sindhi
weekly Hindvasi. Vishnus sudden death had been a
great shock. I collapsed and had to be hospitalized for
a few weeks. I was now gradually coming to terms
with the new phase in my life.
Dattu, as we called him, had been very close friends
with Vishnu. They met often. Every Wednesday we
went as a family to Punes well-known Coffee House
to enjoy the British-influenced Parsi cuisine it was
famous for then. Dattu often told me how fond he
was of Vishnu. But he didnt have to tell me, I could
see for myself.
Rita Shahani
I told Dattu about this book, and asked him to tell me

how he had met Vishnu.
It was through the Modern Book Stall, he said.
I was a regular visitor to the bookstore. One of
my uncles, Lakshman Rao Guru, had financed the
Quit India book by Mohandas Gandhi, a slim but
outspoken book which spoke out fearlessly against
British rule. Modern Book Stall was stocking it, even
though their main customers were British soldiers.
And they started getting raided.
In those days we all felt the same way about the
British government. We didnt like them, and wanted
something to be done. I used to come to the shop at
least three or four times a week. There I would meet
Vishnu and Baba, and we would exchange whatever
news we had about the movement.
So your family was a part of the Pune freedom
movement? I asked him.
Not really, he replied. My father and grandfather
had been public servants. That meant they were
working for the British. In fact, as a child we lived in
Rangoon where my father was a doctor, serving in the
British Army.
What a difficult choice it must have been for young
people who joined the freedom movement, I thought
to myself. Many of their parents were working for
the British government. Their livelihood depended on
it. How could they be disloyal? We Indians are very
58
conscious of our duty to be loyal to people who we

depend on for our sustenance.
In that case, what drew you to it? I asked Datta
Guru.
I was influenced by something my uncle said casually
when there was a discussion about the movement, he
replied. I remember him saying, Its the students who
agitate. I knew he had financed the book. That is how
I got that attitude.
I used to cycle around the camp. Sometimes I would
take a bottle of chloroform from my dads dispensary.
And if I saw a soldier, Id throw it at him and cycle off!
Slowly this graduated into looking out for explosives.
I was interested in hand grenades and I used to read
books in Modern Book Stall about how they are
made.
Oh, so you were also taken in because they found
literature that implicated you? I asked.
No, that happened to Vishnu. He and Baba were
always under surveillance, because of their shop.
In my case, it was the connection with people like
Baburao Chavan. We had a group of friends. Rambhau
Telang lived near us in Rasta Peth. His family had a
unit manufacturing beedis in Shukrawar Peth. I had
a classmate, Wadke. His family had a vessel-making
factory in Vetal Peth. He stored the bombs and
dynamite in the attic of their home on Kasba Peth.
Our families did not know about our activities. None
59
The Capitol Cinema on East Street, Pune, was the

haunt of British soldiers and the Westernised
gentry of Pune during the Raj.
Renamed Victory in the 1970s, it fell into neglect
when multiplex cinema complexes became popular
in the 1990s and 2000s. It was then refurbished in an
attempt to regain its old standing.
of us talked about these things at home.

I handled the bombs in Wadkes house but never
planted one myself. There was a man who used to
bring them. We did not know him. In fact, we never
tried to know each other or find out any more about
anyone we were working with. Any one of us could be
arrested at any time, and the less we knew, the better
for all the rest.
As Datta Guru spoke, I tried to picture the activities
of these young men. They would have been in their
late teens and early twenties. Their lives lay before
them. The whole fervour of their youth lay in fighting
the British, the struggle to achieve independence
from imperial rule. They were engaging in dangerous
activities that made them terrorists in the eyes of the
government. Yet, to generations of free Indians, they
must remain heroes forever. How easily we judge and
condemn people who stand up for causes dear to them!
And how complex are the realities that surround us.
What did your activities result in? I asked him.
On 24 January, 1943, a bomb exploded in Capitol
Cinema. Four Englishmen were killed. A few days
later, Bhaskar Karnik, a boy who worked in the High
Explosive Factory at Khadki, was arrested. He was
responsible for bringing out the fulminates which
explode to set off a detonation. He was caught. It was
determined that it was the same explosives which had
been used in the Capitol bomb.
61
These lines were noticed by Kishna Malkani as he

read British Soldier in India- The Letters of Clive
Branson published by the Communist Party, London
1944. His handwritten jottings, simulated above,
were found more than seventy years later.
Karnik always carried cyanide in his possession, and

he must have taken it, because he died the same night,
before giving any names. You can see his memorial in
Budhwar Peth chowk, opposite the police station.
There were other such activities in Pune. Bombs had
been placed at West End Cinema as well but somehow
they did not explode. There was a fire at Poona Club,
which in those days was frequented only by the
English. More than fifty of us were arrested in what
came to be known as the Maharashtra Conspiracy
Case.
Tell me about your arrest, I said.
I was in the first year at Fergusson College, and my
exams were the following month. One day at the end
of February, they arrested me. I was at home in the
Rasta Peth house when the police came. It was two
or three at night. We lived on the second floor. There
were dogs on the ground floor and we later learnt
that they were detained by the dogs for an hour or so.
Then they knocked on the door and woke us up. It
was a shock. Nobody had expected anything like this.
They searched our home. My uncle had studied in
the States. He had brought home double-barrelled
guns and gunpowder. He and my father used to go
shooting for sport. In those days you could find deer,
rabbits, and other game in Kothrud. Luckily they
were concealed under the staircase, and they didnt
find them. If they had, that would have been the first
case put on me.
63
9 August 2013: A Martyrs Day ritual observed by

a group of former freedom fighters at a memorial
to Bhaskar Karnik at Faraskhana. Datta Guru is
seated right-most on the bench above. Next to him
is Haribhau Limaye, youngest of the six conspirators
he was just sixteen who placed the bomb that
exploded in Capitol Cinema on 24 January 1943.
There was an Anglo Indian, Roach, in charge at the

Cantonment police station. The inspector was Ranpise.
I tried to explain that my exams were coming up and
asked them to give me leave to attend the exam. They
refused.
There were many of us taken to jail that day. At first
we were herded and put under tents. We were kept
there for a week. Then we were moved to a special
building where we were kept in cells. It was in a
separate compound. We were considered the most
dangerous prisoners. The Class II and other prisoners
were in another building. Vishnu was in another cell
because when Baba fell ill, they had been moved out.
Mahendra Desai, whose father Mahadev Desai had
been Gandhijis secretary and close aide, was also in
jail at the time with Vishnu and Baba.
Were you ill-treated in jail? I asked.
No, he replied. They never manhandled us. And we
didnt find it difficult to live in jail. There was nothing
to do. We had to sleep on the floor, wash our own
clothes. They used to give some common food. Once a
cockroach was found. And once when we were in the
outside jail, I remember somebody put his hand inside
the curry and it came out full of worms. The food was
atrocious but we had no choice, after all it was jail, we
had to get used to it.
How long were you imprisoned? I asked him.
It was a long time ago, he said, thinking, I cant
65
Rita Shahani
remember exactly. I think it must have been four or

five months. Vishnu was still inside when they released
me. I still frequented the shop. His sister was running
it, and later an uncle came to help them.
I was not involved in the Capitol Bomb Case. Most
of us who were charged with the conspiracy were
released because they were unable to find witnesses
to testify.
Soon after I came out, my father expired. He may
have suspected that I was involved in the freedom
movement, as many young people were in those days.
But he did not know any of my specific activities.
Because I was arrested and put in jail he got a shock
from which he never recovered.
Lalita, Vishnu and Kumar in 1966, enjoying ice-cream

at one of their regular after-dinner outings to
Datta Gurus house.
66
Part III
She was a pillar of strength
Sati Shahani caught on camera in a characteristic

pose in 1937.
Professor of English
ati, Vishnus sister, was a professor of English

at Punes historic Fergusson College. She was a
spinster, and lived with Ami, my mother-in-law,
in their home on East Street, close to our bookstore
Modern Book Stall.
Sati periodically arranged meetings of the University
Womens Council in her home. She had called me to
help her entertain these special guests and to serve
the snacks she had prepared for them. Sati had lived
in Pune for most of her life, and the intellectuals of
the city were her friends. That day there were women
of many communities in her home, Maharashtrians,
Parsis, Christians and South Indian. Standing in
the kitchen, I listened to them speak of the special
problems we women face. They wanted women to
have equal rights, and they discussed legal matters
in domestic life. And they rued the ignorance and
primitive traditions that had suppressed the women
of our villages, towns and cities. Men want women
always under their thumbs! I heard an angry voice
Jivatram Shahani, founder of Modern Book Stall,

circa 1968.
declaim. They want all the authority and want to

control us on puppet strings. First a woman has to
obey her father; then she must obey her husband. And
when her husband dies she is at the mercy of her son.
Why? In what way are we less than them? The time
has come for women to be aware of their rights.
Sati responded in a loud voice, Yes, even in our big
cities people feel that it is only their sons who can
manage their businesses. How can a daughter be left
to look after a shop? And they grab it away from her.
But I tell you, women were quite capable even in the
old days! Back in 1943, when I was still only a BA
student, our circumstances were such that I had to
manage Modern Book Stall all on my own. My father
and brother had been sent to Yerwada Jail because
of their participation in the freedom movement. The
entire responsibility of the family fell on me. I was
only twenty-two, but the eldest of the children. Wasnt
I able to go to the shop all alone? Wasnt I able to
manage it? And wasnt I able to support the family
with the income I brought in?
Soldiers were prohibited from entering the shop. But
they would still wander in. And they would make all
kinds of derogatory remarks. Wasnt I able to confront
them? Didnt I do it? In fact I was even able to respond
boldly and snub them! The women applauded loudly,
and praised her.
I was in the kitchen, listening.
After the guests had left I said to Sati, I always knew
71
Rita Shahani
that you had taken care of the shop when Vishnu was
in jail. But I had no idea you were managing it all
alone and struggled through so many bad times!
Well, said Sati, I looked after the shop for two or
three years. It wasnt just two or three days, you know!
Baba and Vishnu were arrested in January 1943,
and the British government imposed a restriction
preventing us from entering the cantonment in March.
They lifted it only in August 1945, after the Second
World War ended.
Yes, I agreed, that was certainly a very long time.
What happened to your studies?
I somehow managed to finish my BA examinations,
Sati said. But there was no question of my attending
lectures. I had to be at the shop all day. I lost two
years. And I began my MA course after 1945.
I must say you sacrificed a lot for the family! I said
admiringly.
Sati laughed. Well what choice did I have! she said
wryly. The men had gone off to jail. I was the eldest
child. Ami wasnt good for much more than weeping!
Will you tell me how it happened?
Yes of course, why not. When the police raided our
house I was at home. We had no idea where Vishnu
was. I stalled them outside for a few minutes. I knew
there were papers lying around which they should not
find. I hunted around and found some. Stuffing them
72
into my frock, I slipped on a loose cape. It was winter. I

stepped boldly out of the house, carrying a few books.
Very pointedly, I told the policeman that they were
creating a disturbance. My exams were going on and
I would have to go to my friends house to continue
with my studies. I raced off in a hurry to my friend
Dolly Borettos house. Together we began cramming
the papers into the kitchen fire.
But you couldnt have taken all the papers, could
you? I asked.
Sati replied, How could I possibly know how many
papers there were! I quickly picked up whatever I
could find and ran out.
And then what happened?
Well, said Sati, it was a foregone conclusion. The
police confiscated several copies of Navjivan and
Padma publications, some copies of Nehrus life by
Krishnamurty, some Marathi bulletins and a paper in
Vishnus handwriting from the shop. From our home
they seized an old copy of Quit India. What Vishnu
had written implicated him.
What was that? I asked eagerly.
It was a paper with the title An Appeal to British
Troops. And it was in his own handwriting! There
was no way he could talk himself out of that.
Really! I said. What had he written in that paper?
Sati sniffed. It was a piece of sentimental nonsense,
73
Rita Shahani
she said. Vishnu had written, You are fighting against

the Germans for your freedom. We are fighting for our
freedom too. We are on the same side, we should be
friends! And he had written, You want your homes
to be safe. We want our homes to be safe too. You
dont want to be ruled by foreigners. Well, neither do
we! And so on. There was logic in what he said. But
it was considered treasonous.
Really! I said in admiration. So they found it, did
they? Vishnu told the children that he had burnt and
hidden incriminating papers when the soldiers came.
Sati looked annoyed. Vishnu used to get up to all
kinds of tricks, she said. And it was because of these
activities that we had to suffer so much.
Oh. Are you complaining?
Sati thought for a while before she answered.
Complaining? Well, yes and no. It was a difficult
time for all of us. The arrest wasnt merely about the
papers. Baba did not bow down to the British the way
they wanted, and they did not like that. The British
officers were rude and insulting, and Baba was a
proud, self-respecting person who would look them
in the eye and reply to their taunts in kind, with his
head held high.
Then?
Well, the police took Baba and Vishnu away, leaving
Ami and me at home. I sent a telegram to Amis parents,
asking that her brother, my Kishna Mama, be sent to
74
help us. Ami continued weeping. Soon we received

an Order of Externment from the cantonment. This
meant that we were no longer permitted to remain in
the cantonment. We had to leave our home! To us it
was like a bomb had fallen. Where were we to go?
Then?
We had no one who could help. Our friends and
neighbours turned away from us. It was the boys who
worked in the shop, Tukaram and Dhondu, who came
to our rescue. They were local Pune people. They
managed to get us a place in the Gujarati Dharamshala
in front of the station. It was a shabby little room, like
a servants quarter. But our family now got shelter. We
had four walls and a roof, and we were grateful for
that.
I was silent for a moment, and then I said, Tell
me something. This restriction from entering the
cantonment was it binding on all members of the
family?
Sati replied, It was for Baba, Ami and Vishnu. I could
go into the cantonment, and thats how I was able
to continue running the shop. The children too were
not prevented from going to school. But we were no
longer allowed to live in that area.
By then Kishna Mama had arrived from Hyderabad
to help me with the shop. But he was soon arrested
and taken to jail too! When they searched our flat,
where he was now living, they found and seized a
75
Vishnu with his sisters Savitri (Kiki) and baby

Sundari, circa 1936.
childrens colouring book of Kimono designs and a

travel agency brochure entitled Visit Japan.
They searched our store again, and confiscated
copies of Marlboroughs Japanese Self Taught, and
Identification of Japanese Aircraft & Warships, which
they found suspicious even though they were printed
in Great Britain and had passed the Customs office!
At the same time, the CID in Hyderabad, Sindh raided
Ami and Kishnas mothers home, and took away
two notebooks containing commercial addresses
of Japanese and other foreign manufacturers and
merchants. Kishna had lived in Japan for three years
but before that had been a British citizen of Shanghai,
working as the manager of one of the hundreds of
Sindhi business houses there, well known for silks and
curios throughout the world. He was not a spy or a
Japanese agent! But what could we do? It just meant
that I was on my own again.
After the childrens exams got over, I took them and
Ami to Sindh for the holidays. We had always done
this. But I left my mother there and came back with
the little ones because I couldnt let them miss school.
I asked her, The soldiers were forbidden from entering
Modern Book Stall. But you said that they still came?
Yes, Sati replied. There was a big board outside
the shop which said, Out of Bounds to British
Troops. One day a Hindustani inspector of police,
Mr Kulkarni, entered the shop. I asked him, There
is a board outside but soldiers still continue to come.
77
Rita Shahani
Who is responsible for that? He replied: The notice

is for them. They should not come. They are taking a
risk by coming. But there is no need for you to stop
them. It is they who are doing wrong, not you.
Sati laughed and said, They would come, buy books
and go. Our business continued. I said nothing.
Werent you scared? I asked.
Scared? Why? Do I look like a coward to you? Sati
reared up and said crossly.
Oh no, not at all, I reassured her. But back then
you were young and alone!
Well I was quite brave in those days too! And I
wasnt entirely alone. Tukaram and Dhondu were
my allies, she said. I remember something else,
she continued. There was a man who visited the shop
regularly. He would stand and browse for hours at
a time. He seemed most interested in the books on
India. He would pick one up, read it for a while, and
put it back. I dont think he ever bought anything. He
may have been military intelligence.
Thats interesting, I said. And how was business?
We managed to survive, she replied.
What about food? Who took the dabba to jail?
That was Amis department. One of the servants
from the shop would carry it there on a bicycle.
Sati laughed. I remembered something, she went on.
78
Ami often appeared to be helpless and confused. But

she wasnt a fool! When she wanted she could use her
mind quite well.
Oh? I asked.
Ami had made a bag for the tiffin, she continued.
She had sewn a secret pocket into it. She would write
letters to Baba and conceal them in the pocket.
Wow thats interesting. Did Baba write back?
Yes, he did. Nobody ever found out.
Did he write anything romantic? I asked.
Well, replied Sati, I have no idea what they wrote
to each other. In those days I was occupied with my
own work.
Then what happened?
Kishna was in jail for about a month. But he went
to court saying he had been falsely implicated. There
was no proof against him. They had to let him out of
jail. Baba was also released quite soon. The jails were
overflowing with people and they were made to stay
in tents. Poor thing, he fell ill. And they had nothing
against him. But even when he came out of jail, they
wouldnt let him into the cantonment. So I had to
continue running the shop. People told Baba, youve
left your daughter to look after the shop on her own!
They will put her also in jail! I said thats ok. When
the time comes, we will face it.
79
Vishnu (right) with Balachandra Sule and another

friend, at Khadakvasala Dam outside Pune in April
1941.
Life in a cantonment
town
n October 1943, after about six months in the

dharamshala, we managed to get two rooms at
a rather high rent in Ramzan Cottage. It was on
the boundary of the cantonment, quite close to the
shop, Sati continued. We moved there. There was
one Ramzan Ali who gave us the place. He told Baba,
Come along Mr Shahani, I am not afraid of these
people. You can stay here!
In August, Vishnu had finally came back home. He
was also still under the externment order. So he had
nothing to do and would spend the day wandering
around with his friends. When we realised that the
CID were following him all over the place, Ami kept
him home. He would be sitting in one place, looking
out of the window all day long! Our parents decided
to send him to Karachi to study. He was admitted
into the BA course at DJ Sind College. He was given
a room in Mitharam Hostel, where he shared a room
Rita Shahani
with our uncle Kewalram Malkani who happened to

also be studying there at the time.
I sat up. Sati, I said, Do you know that I stayed
in that hostel too, at around that time! My uncle
Mangahram Malkani was the warden, and when my
parents and I visited Karachi from Hyderabad, we
would stay in his quarters!
Vishnu is much older than you, isnt he?
Yes, there is an age difference of eleven years. So when
he was in college he was twenty-two and I was only
eleven. I remember seeing hundreds of boys there, and
obviously didnt notice any one in particular. Neither
would he possibly have imagined, if he ever saw me at
all, that this little eleven-year-old child would one day
be his wife! We had to travel quite a long way from
Karachi and go through many different experiences
before we finally came together in Pune.
Sati went on, Amis brother Kewal was only two years
older than Vishnu. In fact, he is my age. In independent
India, Kewal rose to prominence as a politician and
writer, and was widely known as KR Malkani. As
students in Karachi, he and Vishnu shared a hostel
room. They had always been close, a relationship
which had developed over the years of our extended
summer holidays together in Hyderabad as children.
We would also accompany Ami when she went to her
mothers home for care during pregnancy, staying on
until she was well enough to travel back to Pune with
the new baby. As a result, large parts of our childhood
82
were spent in Hyderabad. We had very close ties with

the family, and they came to Pune to visit us too.
In Pune, we spoke in English at home. But with a
Maharashtrian servant in the house, there was no one
in Pune to whom we could speak Sindhi! Our friends
also spoke Marathi but we spoke to them in English.
It was only Ami and Baba who spoke to us in Sindhi.
It was in Hyderabad that we became fluent in our
mother tongue.
When Kewal was born, his mother, my Nani, had
tuberculosis. This was quite a common illness in those
days. Ami was nursing me, and she would also nurse
her little brother Kewal. She had a very special feeling
for him, and even now Ami lovingly calls Kewal
Kikko.
I mused, Mother and daughter having babies at the
same time! That must mean that Ami was very young
when she got married.
Yes, said Sati. Thats the way it was in those days.
She was just fourteen when she got married. When
I was born when Kewal was born she was just
fifteen.
In fact, I learnt when I was older that Ami was my
fathers second wife. He had been married to her
elder sister, who died of tuberculosis. Similarly, my
grandmother Bhabhi was my grandfathers second
wife. He married her after his first wife, her elder
sister, died.
83
Kewal Malkani at Bund Garden, on a visit to the

Shahani family in Pune in 1939, after completing his
matriculation in Hyderabad, Sindh.
Really? I asked. Does that mean that Narayandas

Rattanmal Malkani, Professor Ghanshyamdas, and
Dr Bhoolchand were not Amis real brothers?
Well, replied Sati, they were her half-brothers. But
they were sons of two sisters, and even closer than real
brothers. They had a deep love for each other.
How interesting! I said. You know, when my
parents were considering Vishnu as a prospective
groom for me, they made enquiries and found that
Baba had been married twice. My mother was worried
that Vishnu was from the first wife, which could have
meant that he had not been well cared for. But that
was not true. In fact, we all knew very well how much
Ami loved Vishnu! And his devotion and sense of duty
towards her was something we could all see.
Our discussion had digressed. Women died early in
those days, I mused. Things were so different then.
Some succumbed to fatal illnesses for which medicine
had not yet found a cure. Many women died in
childbirth. And the men would remarry, sometimes
again and again. It was considered best that ones sonin-law be given the younger daughter in marriage.
That way, she would be secure. And the children, if
any, would be well looked after. After all, they had
the same blood. In the absence of their mother, they
would get loving care from their masi. Many families
found solace in this arrangement.
Kewal and Vishnu had been good friends as children,
and the bond was cemented when they stayed together
85
Rita Shahani
in the Karachi hostel, Sati continued. In Sindh

in those days, the RSS had just come up. How did
our parents know that Vishnu would go to Karachi
and get infected by Hindu politics? Yes, I call it an
infection. There was no way he could break away. He
should have realised that we still had to work under
the British. The war was on and things were not that
easy.
Kewal used to go to the shakha, and he influenced
Vishnu also towards the RSS. The young Sindhi
freedom fighters were not very happy with the
policies of the Indian National Congress. The talk
about Partition was causing turbulence in the country.
Dividing the country on religious lines meant that the
two communities were looking at each other warily.
The RSS had taken root in Sindh and in practically
every home there were young people joining the
shakhas.
I knew that the RSS had originated in Maharashtra
and was very strong in Pune. All our lives together,
I had seen that Vishnu was committed to the code
of self-respect and discipline of the RSS. Now Sati
was telling me that he had been introduced to the
organization in Sindh. I was curious to hear more but
wanted her story too. What happened to you in Pune
when Vishnu went off to Karachi? I asked.
Well, Baba stayed at home. He continued to order
books and maintain the shop accounts as he had
done in the past, but from home. And he would visit
86
the lawyer regularly, to discuss ways to remove the

restraining order that kept us outside the cantonment.
I would tie my books to the bicycle carrier and ride off
to the shop every day.
One day, we heard that an Englishwoman had
threatened the owner of the Royal Shoe Shop on Main
Street. It was a Bohra shop. She was trying to return
a pair of shoes she had worn once and get a new pair
in exchange. And when the owner protested, she said,
Dont you fuss! Do you know what I did to that man
in Modern Book Stall? Do you want to go to jail like
him?
Really! I was shocked. This was a story I had never
heard before. But Sati went on.
Thats when we realised why they had come after
us. I forget this womans name but she was the wife
of a junior officer. In those days there were many of
them living in Pune. When the British fled Burma,
they had come to Delhi and then settled in various
cantonments across India. The regiments were
moved up and down the country. When the men got
transferred, they couldnt take their women along
with them. Cantonments always had bungalows
where the families lived, and there were many in Pune.
The children too went to school here, they couldnt
send them back to England. These were the war years,
remember, and conditions there were bad. There were
shortages of everything. So they preferred it out here
in India.
87
Rita Shahani
What did the woman

do? I asked.
She came into our
bookstore one day and
called haughtily out to my
father. Boy! she said.
Really?
I
asked,
surprised. Why would she
do that?
Thats what the British
called
their
Indian
servants, Sati explained.
My father knew that. And
he wasnt going to take the
insult! He was an old man,
he had grey hair. Nobody
was going to get away with
This clipping from
calling him boy. So he let
Bharat Jyoti edition of 7
October 1945, reporting her have it. And soon after
news which appeared in that, he and Vishnu were
Today, the Australian
put in jail.
News review, gives a
glimpse of the values of
imperial times.
It also refers to
a certain Poona
bookstore as being the
only one in the world
to be out of bound to
other ranks.
Before I could digest this

bit of interesting news, Sati
started on another equally
fascinating story. People
have forgotten what it
was like living in a British
cantonment town, she
said. I remember we once
88
had this shootout. There was a Parsi family who lived

in a beautiful old mansion on Main Street.
In those days, Main Street was lined with shops and
at the end there were a number of lovely old Parsi
houses. Main Street was the only street the soldiers had
access to in the Bazaar area. There were boards clearly
telling them, Out of Bounds to British Troops and
they were not allowed to go beyond. One day, a group
of soldiers walked into this Parsi mansion. The owner
was sitting there, and he stood up and told them to
get out. But they were in a boisterous mood, and there
was an exchange of words. And that old Parsi brought
out his gun and shot one of those soldiers dead!
I tell you, Rita, that Parsi was a wealthy old man.
If he had been a Congressman, or a local Maratha,
things might have been different. But he wasnt. So the
British couldnt do anything! It was well known that
the Parsis were loyal to them. If they antagonized one
important Parsi family, the whole community could
turn against them. After all, that Tommy had been the
one in the wrong. So they hushed it up."
Really! I said, and when did this happen?
Sati thought for a while. Im not exactly sure, she
said, but I think it was soon after Vishnu and Baba
were dragged off to jail.
Oh and yes, theres another thing I have to tell you!
she added.
What?
89
Sati Shahani in January 2013, at her sister Mithus

home in Delhi where she now lives.
Ami was pregnant again.

Thats right! I said. Mithu was born in 1944.
I was twenty-three, the eldest of the children. So
there are twenty-three years between Mithu and me.
Yes, I know. Mithu was the darling of all the other
children. She was like an adored doll.
I remember once Ami brought Mithu to the shop. I
think that was the first time she had come to the shop.
Seeing the military personnel there she fainted! Sati
laughed.
Ami was very timid, wasnt she, I said.
You know, said Sati, I dont think she was timid as
a person. But Baba had spoilt her with his protective
love.
Thats interesting, I said, reflecting. The truth
is, when we talk about the past and remember old
incidents, things become clearer in our minds. The
events that transpired since give us a better perspective
and we understand our memories in a clearer light.
We must never forget that whatever happened in that
period is a very important part of our history.
Absolutely! said Sati. When you say this, I feel as
if I am living that time all over again. Talking about
those days is a good feeling. It makes me happy and
sad, and it makes my mind clearer too. She walked
with me to the door, and we bid each other goodbye.
91
Chronology of events
n 23 November 2013, a commemorative

edition of this book was released in memory
of Rita and Vishnu Shahani. Three days
later, new documents were found, confirming that the
events took place as follows.
21 January 1943: Police raid Modern Book Stall and
the residence of Mr JT Shahani (Baba).
24 March 1943: Order of externment from the
cantonment issued.
22 June 1943: Vishnu and Baba are told they will
be released from jail if they sign an undertaking not
to participate in the Congress movement, and agree
to obey the order of externment. Baba signs, Vishnu
declines.
2 July 1943: Baba released from jail.
15 August 1943:
unconditionally.
Vishnu
released
from
12 August 1945: Babas externment rescinded.
jail
Rita Shahani
Perhaps an example of a womans contribution being

overlooked due to bias or preconception, Satis role
is not mentioned in this appeal.
(filed by family advocate SS More of Shivaji Nagar)
94
Part IV
The Sindh story
The province of Sindh remained undivided during

the Partition of India, but not unaffected by it.
Fifty years of Indian

Independence
5 August 1997, a day of nation-wide rejoicing,

set off a year of celebrations across the
country the Golden Jubilee Year of Indian
Independence. Those who had participated and made
personal sacrifices in the freedom struggle had been
recognized and honoured by the government over the
last few decades, as Freedom Fighters. They were now
feted and felicitated with enthusiasm. In the course of
the year, Vishnu received many invitations to events in
Pune, where he was honoured.
I remember one occasion when he was invited to
speak to the students at St Miras College for Girls,
the college started by Sadhu TL Vaswani. The students
were fascinated to hear about the freedom struggle,
and asked many eager questions. At another ceremony,
he was honoured at the silver jubilee celebration of
Jan Seva Bank. The most prominent event to which
he was invited was at Bal Gandharva Rang Mandir,
Rita Shahani
on behalf of the Indian government. There was a

gathering of freedom fighters and the Chief Minister,
Gopinath Munde, gifted them with a shield, a shawl,
and a few other tokens of appreciation. Of all the
veterans there, only two were asked to share the stage
with the government representatives, and one of them
was Vishnu.
Vishnu must have felt some satisfaction that his
commitment to the nation had been recognized. He
was not a man who thrived on public appreciation.
However, the respect he was showered with drew
forth a look of happiness on his face, and this made
me happy too. How glad I am to look back and be
able to remember that he was honoured in this way.
Who knew that Vishnu had just three months left in
this world?
On the Fiftieth Indian Independence Day, Punes daily
newspaper Maharashtra Herald had a special issue
and a reporter, Mohan Sharma, interviewed Vishnu.
I remember Vishnu was wearing black sunglasses; he
had had a cataract operation just four days before.
He spoke about his days in jail and his participation
in the freedom struggle, and the partition that took
place at independence. Vishnu shared his reactions,
his perspective, and his opinions with great passion,
and the reporter recorded what he said. The interview
appeared, along with a photograph of Vishnu and
Modern Book Stall. Vishnu had told the reporter that
fifty years ago, the country was celebrating but he was
personally very unhappy.
98
Why? the reporter asked with surprise.

Had we struggled for this! Vishnu exclaimed. Was
it to see this day that we sacrificed our youth and lost
so much? The thought of India cut into pieces gave me
pain. Bhai, Sindh is our motherland, the place of our
birth. Why was it separated from our country?
I was so furious, so full of frustration and despair,
and I felt so repulsed by the Indian tricolour, that I
tore it up and flung it aside.
Its true that our family had not lived in Sindh all our
lives. But it was the land of our ancestors. Both sets
of my grandparents lived there, and we spent months
together with them every year. It was our motherland.
Our roots are there!
Vishnu told the reporter about the exodus that started
from Sindh soon after that first happy Independence
Day. Displaced persons, or refugees as they were
called, were pouring into Maharashtra. Pune too was
getting its share. Our family had been settled here for
several years, so others of our community from across
the new border gravitated to us. Our home was full of
aunts, uncles, cousins and distant relatives who had
fled Sindh. As one family was settled, more would
come.
Many people still come to me expressing gratitude
for the help the Shahani family gave them in those
days. Many who were affected by Partition, not just
Sindhis, were coming to make new homes in our city.
99
As part of the activities held to commemorate

fifty years of Indian Independence, Vishnu Shahani
addressed students of Rewachand Bhojwani
Academy, a school in Pune, where his daughter
Lalita, also known as Madhavi Kapur, (seen standing)
was Principal at the time.
The Weikfield Malhotras, and many others, tell me

how Vishnus support helped them through those
difficult times.
Some of us Sindhis who lived in Pune began going
around to the government offices to ask that a refugee
camp be set up in Pune too. Eventually, a small plot
of land was allotted at Uruli Kanchan, some distance
outside the city. Vishnu went with a few others to
see it. But they did not like the place, finding it too
isolated. Our community needed a place which had
easier access to Bombay, to help the displaced ones to
settle into new businesses and find their feet quickly.
In those days, BG Kher was the Chief Minister of
Bombay State. Vishnu was one of those who went to
meet him in his bungalow adjacent to the RSI Club.
They spoke for a while and found him unresponsive.
The Chief Minister appeared unable to understand
what they were saying. He said to them, Why are the
Sindhi Hindus leaving Pakistan? They are cowards!
It would have been better if they had stayed behind
there. We have Muslims staying on here, dont we?
What is the point of this exodus! Bombay State cannot
absorb so many Sindhis. Let them go back.
Hearing these words from this senior representative
of the new Government of India, which so many
of us Sindhis had fought long and hard to achieve,
upset Vishnu terribly. Did the Minister Sahib think it
was an easy matter to leave ones motherland? Who
would get up and simply leave their home, their lane,
101
Rita Shahani
their neighbourhood, their city? Who would leave the

province to which they belonged, the place which gave
them their innermost identity? And who would do this
of their own volition? Who would want to wander
homeless, in unknown lands? Who wants to have no
place of their own? Who chooses to be a refugee?
Dear Minister, I can imagine Vishnu thinking and
controlling himself from shouting, there is a simple
answer to these simple questions, why does it not
enter your fat head! How can you be so insensitive?
Hearing the minister speak in this manner, some of the
women in the group began to tell about the kind of
problems they had faced. We did not want to leave!
they assured him. But seeing what was happening
around us, the looting, rapes, murders and threats,
what choice did we have? Do you think we should have
stayed behind and been forced to convert to another
religion? Do you really think we became refugees by
choice? Listening as they wailed out their sad stories,
tears trickled down the ministers cheeks too. He sat
silent for a while. Finally, he offered them a stretch of
land at Pimpri which was used as a grazing ground by
local farmers.
They went to see the land and found that there were no
buildings on it. The sheds were marked with bamboo
poles and had no walls. Most did not even have a roof.
And there were no bathrooms. They began digging
more holes to place bamboo poles, and tied saris and
old bed sheets between them to serve as temporary
walls. The men, many of them zamindars who had
102
never done a day of work in their lives, could walk

down to the river to bathe, but temporary bathing
shelters had to be built for the women. This was all
that the Chief Minister of Bombay State could do for
those of our community who had to leave their homes
in Sindh.
Other Sindhi groups in other parts of the country had
similar experiences with the leaders of the newly freed
but partitioned India. It led to a growing disillusionment
with Congress, a feeling of betrayal which led the
community to seek their own alternatives.
If you look at the Sindhi Refugee Camp in Pimpri
today, you will see a modern, prosperous township.
Those wretched refugees, who fled their homes with
nothing, are well-settled and even affluent. Far from
begging, they used their sense of enterprise and skills
at trading to improve their situation. And they went
on to contribute generously to the community that
so grudgingly accepted them. The Pimpri Chinchwad
Municipal Corporation is the richest corporation
not just in India, but in all of Asia. And many of the
corporators are Sindhi. The Bharat Vikas Bank deals
with crores of rupees in deposits. It is well known that
the hardworking and enterprising Sindhi traders have
contributed in many ways to the development of Punes
industrial belt and made the entire area prosperous.
This is a success story you will see repeated in every
area of Independent India where the people of our
community, uprooted and made destitute by Partition,
settled.
103
Signed by Jawaharlal Nehru, this cheque for Rs1200

was presented to the Sindhi community for its
resettlement, from the Prime Ministers Relief Fund.
Our unsung heroes
ecords of the participation of Sindhis in Indias

struggle for freedom against Imperial rule go
back to the Thar uprising (1846), the Nagar
Parkar revolt (1859), and the Hur revolt (1896-1900).
During the First World War, Punjabi revolutionaries
living in the United States and Canada set up the
Ghadar Party to overthrow British colonial yoke. The
Sindworkis, Sindhi merchants who traded overseas,
were willing financiers, couriers and publicists.
Sindh played an important part in the Reshmi Rumal
Movement, an armed uprising organized by Deobandi
leaders, and Maulana Ubaidullah Sindhi was one of
its chief mentors, travelling to Afghanistan for special
tasks. Sindhi leaders were captured and imprisoned in
Lahore, Pathankot, Dinpur and Karachi. Many were
killed. In 1906, when Lord Curzon partitioned Bengal
into two parts, a new uprising began. The Swadeshi
movement was started. Nationalist feelings began to
emerge across the country.
In December 1919, at the annual session of the
A 1921 Poster advertising a Congress noncooperation Public Meeting and Bonfire of Foreign
Clothes in Bombay, and expressing support for the
Karachi Khilafat Conference.
National Congress held at Amritsar, a special train

of Sindhis travelled to pay homage to the Jalianwalla
Bagh martyrs and brought back blood-mingled dust
to display in Sindh.
In 1920, the Civil Disobedience Movement led to
mass rallies, hartals and demonstrations in Karachi,
Hyderabad, Sukkur and other places in Sindh. AntiBritish agitation spread in the countryside. Honorary
appointments and titles given by the British were
returned by many; official receptions were boycotted,
including one held for the Prince of Wales who visited
in 1922.
Imported goods were also boycotted. Khadi became
the symbol of patriotism. Many wealthy families and
many prominent individuals, from Ram Panjwani to
Allah Bux Soomro, wore only khadi. In those days,
entire bridal trousseaus of the wealthiest families
committed to the movement might be stitched entirely
of khadi. In the Shahani household, all the linen,
including bedsheets, towels and napkins, was made of
khadi. My father-in-law Jivatram himself wore khadi
trousers all his life. His trousers always had a knife
crease and stylish turn-ups but they were made of
khadi. Tirathdas Vaswani, a Sindhi Bhaiband, was
so committed to Swadeshi that he stopped trading in
imported fabrics and opened a khadi store in Calcutta,
compromising his business profits in favour of his
commitment to the freedom movement.
These are sacrifices that went without note.
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Rita Shahani
Writers worked hard to inspire their readers and

to convey patriotic feelings across the country. The
British did not take kindly to this, considering it to be
subversive journalism. Many Sindh newspapers were
served with Show Cause notices and were asked to
furnish securities for publishing objectionable articles.
When Hindu was asked for security of Rs2,000, the
money was raised almost immediately by contributions
from members of the public. Editors of newspapers
welcomed imprisonment for publishing seditious
articles in their papers. I read examples of these in an
article, Swatantra sangram mein Sindhi patrakaron ka
yogdan, by Dr Murlidhar Jaitley. Dr Jaitley lists these
editors and their periods of imprisonment for their
contribution to spreading nationalistic feelings:
Verumal Beghraj 3 years
Jairam Doulatram 3 years
Choitram Gidwani 1.5 years
Chetumal Hariram 3 years
Hiranand Karamchand
Jhamtamal Lakhasingh
Jethmal Pursram 2 years (it is specified that
he was sent to Yerwada Jail)
Govardhan Sharma 5 years
Lokram Sharma 1.5 years
Vishnu Sharma 3 years
Ghanshyam Shivdasani 2 years
Choitram Vallecha
108
After the imprisonment of each one, the newspaper

would be closed. A new team would be quietly formed,
and the publication would resume from another
location. When that editor was taken into custody,
the paper would move to yet another location. This
went on and on, until the tenure of Press Ordinance
ended on 5 March 1931 after the Gandhi Irwin pact.
Political prisoners were released from jail and the
press was given back to the editors.
One of the most notable Sindhi writers who gave the
call for awakening people to the cause of freedom was
the poet Hundraj Lilaram Manik, better known by his
pen name Dukhayal. He was eleven years old when
Mohandas Gandhi launched the Non-Cooperation
movement in 1921. Motilal Jotwani writes, in an
article in Indian Literature, that Dukhayal, a fourteenyear-old who had just started writing poetry, began
composing national songs and singing them in public
processions and meetings organized in support of
Indian Independence. In 1930, at the time of the Salt
Satyagraha, a non-violent protest against the British
monopoly on salt, he organized a Bandar Sena and
Swaraj Sena, the student-members of which picketed
shops that sold liquor and imported fabrics. He
also brought out The Hanuman, a weekly in Sindhi,
which led to his arrest in 1931 for writing seditious
articles against British rule. In 1932 he was arrested in
Larkana and sentenced to rigorous imprisonment for
twenty-eight months and a fine of Rs200. Dukhayal
was arrested five times during the freedom movement.
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Rita Shahani
Staying on in Sindh after Partition on Mohandas

Gandhis instructions, he was accused of conspiracy
by the Government of Pakistan, and imprisoned again.
In 1949, he migrated to India, where he devoted
his services to the cause of rehabilitating displaced
people from Sindh. In 1951, he joined Vinoba Bhaves
Bhoodan movement.
We Sindhis lost many of our people to the freedom
movement. There were many families in Sindh so
involved in the freedom struggle that almost every
member of the family was in jail at one time or another.
Most notable, and perhaps least known despite his
bravery and extreme sacrifice, is Hemu Kalani, the
Sindhi revolutionary and freedom fighter. Hemu
Kalani was captured while participating in activities
of the Quit India Movement. He was put on trial and
sentenced to death. The people of Sindh petitioned the
Viceroy for mercy, and it was granted on condition
that he divulge the identities of his co-conspirators.
He refused. Hemu Kalani was hanged in Sukkur jail
on 21 January 1943. He was just nineteen years old.
These heroic Sindhis helped to win freedom for India,
but with Partition, they lost their own homeland
forever.
110
The Sindh Story
ver the years, when Kewal Malkani and his

wife Sundri visited Pune, they would stay
with his sister, Vishnus mother, whom we
called Ami. In later years they came to stay in our
home. Sundri and I became close friends, and I too
stayed with them often. I remember one assignment
in Delhi when I stayed in their Rajendra Nagar house.
We spent a lot of time chatting at the dining table and
Kewal Mama would entertain me with stories about
Baba, Ami and Vishnu, and my fathers sister Guddi,
in the old days in Sindh. I loved listening to Kewals
memories of Sindh. He is a historian, and knew how
to bring the old places and events alive in the minds of
his listeners. His strong emotions about Sindh evoked
the same sort of feelings in us too.
Our family bonds too went back to the previous
generations. My mothers parents lived in the same
lane in Hyderabad, Sindh, as Kewals parents. The
Amil families of Hyderabad were very similar in
many ways. We followed the same social traditions
Rita Shahani
and it is interesting how each family was almost

indistinguishable in its culture and practices. Our
ways of doing things were identical! My mother and
masi, my mother-in-law, and other little girls of the
neighbourhood, played with their dolls in the same
courtyard. They studied in the same school. They sat
together under the same lanterns working on their
trousseaus. They did the finest needlework, making
identical velvet cushions richly embroidered with
flowers, birds and peacocks.
If you entered an Amil home in Hyderabad, you would
find it exactly like the others in the neighbourhood.
The layout of the house, the furniture, everything
even down to the kitchen utensils, was the same. We
followed the same standards. If you walked down the
streets, you would find that everyone knew each other.
Vishnu and Kewal spent many happy childhood years
in this milieu. In college together in Karachi, it was
Kewal who influenced Vishnu to start attending the
RSS shakha. RSS had become popular in Sindh and
youngsters from almost every family had become
members. In later years Kewal took up prominent
positions in first the Jan Sangh and then BJP political
parties. He had always been a writer and a journalist.
With his scholarly background and leadership
qualities, he held various important positions in the
government and was also Member of Parliament. Of
the many books he wrote, most popular was an English
one called The Sindh Story, which traced the history
of Sindh. It has also been translated into Sindhi.
112
Vishnu was a successful businessman, but he remained

loyal to the RSS and to social work. He believed in a
certain simple way of living and had upright values,
following his conscience to make even the smallest
decision. He worked hard to give young people a
similar direction. I let him follow his path, just as he
never interfered with the choices I made.
I had started working on this book even before Vishnu
passed away. After I got over the shock of his sudden
death, and found in myself the courage to continue
with my life and work, I decided to carry on writing
and complete it. To find out more about his life and
his work, I interviewed some of his close friends and
family members. Many new things came up with each
interview. But there was also a certain amount of
overlap in what they told me. I decided to leave the
repetition in the book because these separate accounts
supported each other and also reassured me of the
reality. It was also interesting to see that sometimes the
accounts varied slightly, depending on the perspective
of the person giving it.
When I asked Kewalji to rummage the treasure house
of his memories and tell me what he could about
Vishnu, Baba and others of our family, he said he
would be delighted to do so.
One of my earliest and happiest memories is the daily
prabhat feri, he began. It must have been around
1930. I was nine years old and Vishnu was seven. We
were staying in Vishnus grandfathers place. Vishnus
113
Line drawing of an Indian spninning wheel or

Charkha, symbol of the Swadeshi Movement.
father Jivatram, who wore khadi even in those days,

woke us up. We got ready and walked in the morning
procession with others like us through the streets of
Hyderabad for an hour or two chanting slogans and
singing patriotic songs. We were filled with feelings of
national pride!
Every year Vishnu and Sati would come, together
with my sister, their Ami, and the little ones, to our
home in Hyderabad. This was usually in the school
winter vacation. We children would play together.
One of our favourite games was a pretend satyagraha.
There was an evil dictator, some of us would be in
jail, and one of us would be giving an interview to
another.
Oh, I said, That sounds as if what you are doing
these days, going about giving interviews all over the
place, is a fulfilment of your childhood dream!
He laughed. You could put it that way if you like!
he said, and continued, One day, I think it was some
time in 1932, your aunt Guddi Chandurbhan came
to my school, Bandhu Ashram. She taught a song to
my class and we sang it together. At the end of the
class she chose me as the best singer and gave me a
prize a charkha. That evening Vishnu and his family
were going back home on the Bombay Mail. I took
the charkha home and gave it to Vishnu as a farewell
present.
This story touched me. The Malkani family were
deeply committed to the Swadeshi movement. The
115
This 1930 news bureau photograph shows the dense

crowds of followers at a meeting held by Mohandas
Gandhi. He continues to spin while he addresses
them, strategically demonstrating his commitment
to spreading his message of self-reliance and the
dignity of labour.
charkha was a central symbol, introduced by Gandhi

to bring pride to the people of our country in our
national heritage. I could understand what it meant
for Kewal to have gifted Vishnu his prize charkha to
take home with him.
I asked Kewal, You also came to Pune for your
studies. When was that?
He replied, It was 1942. Vishnu was a student at
the Poona Engineering College, in those days one
of the few engineering colleges in India, and very
highly regarded. I had got admission into Fergusson
College, and we stayed together in lodgings that
were equidistant from both institutions. One thing I
remember is how fascinated Vishnu used to be when
I talked to him about History and Politics. He always
said he found them much more interesting than
Engineering.
Oh I had no idea about this!
Yes. On 9 August 1942, the Indian National
Congress passed the Quit India resolution. Vishnu
and I took part in a procession against the British, in
protest against the subsequent arrest of Indian leaders.
Mahendra Desai, at that time editor of Times of India
in New Delhi, was also there along with us. The police
opened fire on the procession, and we managed to
escape with our lives.
Because of the political situation, the colleges were
unable to conduct classes. After two weeks I went back
117
Rita Shahani
to Sindh. Im afraid my presence in Pune contributed

to the problems of the Shahani family.
Really? I asked, how come?
He replied, You see, in Sindh I was quite immersed
in the Indian National Congress agitation against the
government. I had taken part in the protest where we
displayed the Indian tricolour in front of the governor.
The police were looking for me in Sindh but I was
in Pune. By the time the warrant was sent to Pune, I
had already left to go back. And when the warrant
came back to Hyderabad, the movement had cooled
down. Still, they raided our house. When they did not
find anything objectionable, I was given a warning
and told that I would be under observation. And I
was warned that if I was caught again, I would not
be spared.
You think that your being in Pune was responsible
for Vishnus and Babas arrests? I asked.
To an extent, yes. Both of them had been followers
of the Swadeshi movement right since it started. But it
was my Pune sojourn that brought the Shahani family
directly under the government gaze. And sure enough,
in January 1943 they were both arrested. Later when
my brother Kishna went from Hyderabad to Pune to
help Sati manage the Modern Book Stall, they arrested
him too. He was in jail for a while, leaving Sati on her
own again.
Yes, I told him. You certainly did make an impact
118
on Vishnus politics.
Its natural to be influenced by those around you!
he responded. But whether I had an influence on him,
or he had one on me, who knows.
Oh, I said, Vishnu joining RSS was definitely your
influence!
Vishnu was an intelligent person, he said. He was
quite capable of making his own decisions. We had
great regard for each other. I was his mama but also
his friend.
When Vishnu took admission in DJ Sind College in
Karachi, I was already studying there and sharing a
room with Vashi Mahtani. I took Vishnu to meet the
hostel warden, Professor MU Malkani. He was your
uncle, wasnt he?
We were unable to get a room, and Vishnu had to
move in with Vashi and me.
I remember when we were packing our things as we
left our home in Hyderabad, I noticed that Vishnu was
taking a tennis racket. I asked him why. He replied, "I
wont be going with you to the shakha. I am going to
play tennis instead.
I was astonished to hear this. Vishnu and tennis!
That didnt sound like him at all. Kewal noticed my
bewilderment, and I explained. When Kumar was
fourteen or fifteen years old, he had bought a tennis
racket and told us that he wanted to take lessons and
119
Rita Shahani
play at Poona Club. And Vishnu was furious! Why

do you want to play tennis? You should be going to
the shakha! he had said to him angrily. Thinking
about this, I started laughing. Laughing and laughing,
I had tears in my eyes.
It had been a terrible quarrel. I could not understand
why Vishnu was so angry and I had taken Kumars
side. In fact I was so upset that I left the house in a
huff and went to stay with my uncle for a few days.
And now to hear that Vishnu himself had once been
determined to learn tennis how strange! I felt sad
that I could not confront him with my new knowledge
and demand an explanation.
What happened then? Kewal asked. Did Kumar
play tennis or go to the shakha?
Neither! I said. He was confused. He never did
either.
There was silence for a while. Then I asked, But tell
me, did Vishnu play tennis in Karachi?
I dont know, he replied. But one fine day I saw
him with Vashi in the Artillery Maidan shakha. And
he soon became the most dedicated member of that
shakha.
As you know, Vishnu was a pillar of the RSS in
Pune. He was the leader of the cantonment and other
shakhas which meant that one-third of Pune was
under him. Vishnu was an institution in himself. He
was always willing to help any needy person.
120
Kewal smiled to himself at his memories of Vishnu.

And he quoted a verse by Shah Abdul Latif:
All humans are not beautiful.
Just as all birds are not swans.
And yet there are some
who exude the fragrance
of a flower garden.
That was our Vishnu, he said.
121
An evening of music and poetry at Bhit Shah, the

shrine of Shah Abdul Latif (16891752).
Considered the greatest poet of the Sindhi language,
Shah was a Sufi scholar, mystic, poet, and musician.
Photograph by Dinar Qadri in September 2012
A land of poetry and

mysticism
ince historical times, Sindh has been a land of

Sufi poets, fakirs and wandering mystics. The
people of Sindh revered them simply as spiritual
leaders. They spread in Sindh the strong belief in the
One divine being, and that every living being is of divine
essence. Depending on their religion, they expressed
this sentiment in different ways. But whether they said
Annal Haq, Advaita Vad or Aham Brahmasmi they
meant the same thing: I am God, God lies within me.
Sindhi Hindus and Muslims alike revered this credo.
They went together to listen to the folk singing of
the bhagats whose music absorbed them, intoxicated
them, all night long.
Under these benign influences, Sindhis have generally
been tolerant, secular and flexible. When Partition
came, it was a terrible separation. Partition! declared
Shaikh Aiyaz, the great mystic poet of Sindh, Can you
partition my literature? Perhaps he already foresaw
This picture, which appeared in Time Magazine soon

after Partition in 1947, shows BS Kesavan, Indias
first National Librarian, agonizing on how the
National Librarys collection could be partitioned
between the two countries.
another tragedy of our fractured community the

withering away of our language among us Hindus
when we left the home of our ancestors.
People in India do not realize that it was not only
the Sindhi Hindus who suffered because Partition
displaced them. The Sindhi Muslims faced an ordeal
of their own. They too took part in the Indian freedom
movement, and made sacrifices to get independence
from the British Empire. When the Hindus left, and
Muslims from other parts of India settled in Sindh, the
demography of the province changed and the culture
began to change too. With new settlers questioning
their old ways, they found themselves strangers in
their own homes.
The Muslim poets of Sindh wrote sad letters to their
Hindu counterparts, letters of anguish, letters strewn
with love, longing, frustration and guilt. Mourned
Shaikh Aiyaz, Did we sacrifice our youth and suffer
so much to see this day? Fifty years later, Vishnu
would unknowingly utter almost exactly the same
words in his interview to Maharashtra Herald.
In our intellectual and emotional lives, there was
no distinction between religions. We Sindhi writers
have always been a close community, bound by our
deep love for our homeland. As a writer, I hosted
regular meetings and discussions in my home. I was
fortunate to have literary figures like Dr Lacchman
Khubchandani, Taj Joyo, Hari Dilgir, and many others
come to meet me here. Other luminaries such as Dada
125
Rita Shahani
Vaswani were regular visitors.

To my good fortune, Shaikh Aiyaz came too. He was
on a visit from Pakistan with his wife Zarina, and
the Hindu Sindhi writer Hari Motwani brought him
from Bombay to spend a few days in my home. I took
these celebrated writers, both no more now, to visit
my mother-in-law. To Amis great delight, they chatted
with her about the old days in Sindh, and about life in
jail, a topic that seemed to fascinate everyone. Shaikh
Aiyaz had had a taste of it too.
It was the 1971 Indo-Pak war, when Bangladesh was
formed, that saw the first stirrings of the Jiye Sindh
movement, with people of the province demanding
national autonomy too. Turbulent times had come to
Sindh once again and Shaikh Aiyazs acclaimed book
Sahiwal Jailaji Diary provides a glimpse. He became
known as a rebel poet.
One of my most favourite Shaikh Aiyaz poems is one
he wrote during the 1965 Indo-Pak war. It starts:
Hee sangram!
samhoon aa
Narayan Shyam.
Roughly translated, this means:
We took up arms
but before me stood
Narayan Shyam!
126
Narayan Shyam was a well-known Hindu Sindhi

poet. The poem continues with Shaikh Ayaz lamenting
his inability to shoot someone who shares the same
stories, is of the same blood, has the same dreams, and
even the same nightmares.
Shaikh Aiyaz told us that the Government of Pakistan
took offence at his use of the phrase Narayan Shyam,
assuming that it was a reference to the Hindu god
Krishna. A warrant was issued for his arrest, but
fortunately the misunderstanding came to light.
However, Shaikh Aiyazs writing, in particular his
paeans to his Hindu brothers, was seen as antinational.
Three of his anthologies had drawn sharp criticism
from fundamentalists and the government of Pakistan
had denounced him. He was banned a number of
times from mushairas he was scheduled to participate
in, and some of his poems had been banned by Radio
Pakistan.
Ami was able to tell Shaikh Aiyaz much of her ordeal
when the menfolk had been sent to jail. He took notes
in a little notebook he had brought with him. He told
her that when he went back to Sindh he would include
what she had told him in his next book, and he did.
When Narayan Shyam passed away in Delhi in January
1989, Shaikh Aiyaz was so stricken with shock and
grief that he shut himself in a room for three days
and wrote poetry in a trance, expressing his feeling of
homage to the late contemporary poet.
127
Rita Shahani
One of the poems Shaikh Aiyaz wrote in that time of

anguish reads thus:
Sindhu tuhinji lehar maa
janmiyo Narayan Shyam
keeyan kando vishram
so Ganga god mein?
In a way it would apply to all of us Sindhis who left
our homes, never to return:
Oh Indus
he was born of your waves!
how will he find peace
in the lap of the Ganges?
128
Part V
Vasudaiva Kutumbakam
Modern Book Stall displays the book The Two

Faces of Indira Gandhi by Uma Vasudev, during the
Emergency. This bold act, at a time of severe press
censorship, reflects the same strategy of protest
used in 1942 when the book Quit India by Mohandas
Gandhi was prominently displayed in the store
window in support of the Quit India movement.
A latter-day freedom
struggle
hile our bookstore was the heart of

Vishnus life and work, at one time he also
went into business with his dear friend
Datta Guru, with the backing of the land developer
Mahadkar. Alike in their striving for high thinking
and a simple lifestyle, the two former freedom fighters
set up a construction business together. When Kumar
was born in 1963 we shifted to our own flat in one of
their buildings.
In 1972, I learnt of a bungalow up for resale, which
would give us one of the best addresses in Pune. Vishnu
had many reasons why we should not buy! However,
I stayed adamant and, with the help of family friends,
was finally able to persuade him to do so. We moved
into the house in Floriana Estate, which was to be my
home for more than forty years. Living here, I became
a writer. Both our children, Lalita and Kumar, got
married from here. It was here that Ami took her last
Rita Shahani
breath. And it was in this home that Vishnu fought

another battle for Indian democracy, one that many
have forgotten.
The worlds largest democracy has had periods in
which some tried to take our freedom away and there
were many who fought to keep it. On 26 June 1975,
the Indian Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, declared a
state of national emergency. For the next twenty-one
months, the government imposed rule by decree and
a suspension of elections and civil liberties. Of the
many acts imposed, control of information was one.
Censors sat in every newspaper office to ensure that
nothing was printed against the government. People
who protested or spoke out in public were promptly
jailed.
Quite characteristically, Vishnu opened our home
to the struggle against an oppressive government.
Confidential meetings were held here. Rebels from
other cities used it as a safe home. They would
come and shave off their beards and change their
clothes in my bathroom so that they could step into
Pune without fear of being recognized and arrested.
Others who supported the anti-Emergency movement
lived in congested areas of the city. Our home was
comparatively isolated. With an upstairs balcony
which was even more secluded, it was a preferred
location for the meetings.
One of our friends in Bombay had been locked up in
Yerwada Jail for speaking out against the government.
132
His wife came faithfully to spend two days in our

home every week, visiting him with a tiffin box of
home-cooked food prepared in my kitchen.
Here I must confess that Vishnu was looking forward
to a second stint in jail during the Emergency. His
bag was packed. He was ready to leave at a moments
notice. Many thought he was vulnerable. I remember
Atur and Kaushalya Sangtani dropping in, late one
evening, to see if he had been arrested. Atur was a
businessman and philanthropist, a popular person
and one of Pune citys most prominent Sindhis. They
were our very close friends. They must have heard at
the club that arrests had been made, and dropped by
on their way home to see if Vishnu was safe. They
were most relieved when Vishnu opened the balcony
door and waved out to them!
For Vishnu, it was second nature to support an
underground movement, with no thought for the
safety of his own family. The cause of freedom and
democracy was his cause. But sad to say, he was
never indicted. There were far too many people, from
every socio-economic group and from every religious
community, who could vouch for his basic honesty
and sincerity. People knew Vishnu for a good man,
a reliable man, one who would never step across the
line that separates good from bad.
Over time I have understood that there are certain
qualities of a human being that stand out far beyond
any measure of knowledge, fame, wealth, or prestige.
133
Rita Shahani
These are a basic simplicity, innocence and sincerity

and they are so tangible that they can be seen through
all else. It doesnt matter how you are dressed, or
what your education is, or how well-connected you
are. People whether strangers or ones own; whether
ordinary or exalted can see these qualities and are
influenced by them. They are clearly obvious to all,
just the way we can all enjoy tuneful melodies even
when we know nothing about music, and shudder
at a discordant note. Vishnu was a backseater.
People clamour for prominence not he. During the
Emergency, more members of RSS were jailed than
people of any other affiliation. But the authorities
never found any excuse to haul Vishnu off to jail.
134
Secular Sanghi
SS was started as a militant organization,

Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, in 1925.
The founder was Keshav Baliram Hedgewar.
From 1940 to 1973, it was led by Madhav Sadashiv
Golwalkar, known to his followers as Shri Guruji. He
implemented a paramilitary style of functioning with
discipline, and he continues to be the ideological guide
of RSS. Its members are Hindu males, and supporters
describe it as an organization dedicated to fostering
the moral and spiritual traditions of India. Critics
believe it to be a Hindu fundamentalist organization.
There are secularists who hate and fear the RSS. And
RSS has been banned three times in India. Once in
1948 when Gandhi was assassinated, next during the
Emergency, and the third time in 1992 after the Babri
Masjid was abolished. The bans of 1948 and 1992
were lifted when no proof was found associating the
organization with either crime.
When the great mystic poet of Sindh, Shaikh Aiyaz,
planned to come and stay in our home in Pune, he was
Shaikh Aiyaz with Rita Shahani on a visit to

Sinhagad, seventeenth-century fort of Shivaji
Bhosale, founder of the Maratha Empire.
warned to be very careful, because my husband was

a committed RSS worker. Vishnu was also warned by
some well-wishers in Pune that we were being foolish
to think of hosting Muslims from Pakistan in our
home, because they may murder us in our sleep. Vishnu
and I talked about these warnings with Shaikh Aiyaz
and his begum, Zarina, and we had a good laugh, but
also felt sad that people could think in this way. The
philosophy ingrained in the traditional literature of
Sindh propounds humanity, and this basic value is
shared across all our religions. In our home, there was
nothing sinister about RSS. Vishnus approach to RSS,
though solemn, was totally secular.
I knew that I was marrying a Sanghi I had been
warned in advance. As a young bride, I did not know
what exactly that meant. But as time passed, what I
observed was a strong brotherhood of men whose
most fundamental commitment was service to their
nation. They had certain rituals a salute and the
stylised greeting of Bharat Mata ki Jai! which
means, Long live Mother India! They met once a
week every Sunday morning. There were also annual
events. One of these was the Raksha Bandhan ritual.
Though Raksha Bandhan is usually celebrated between
brothers and sisters, in RSS the theme is extended as a
pledge of protection to one another.
The annual Raksha Bandhan meetings were held in
our home. Sixty or seventy men would attend the
occasion, and our house would be a mess. The corridor
would be strewn with their chappals. It annoyed me
137
RSS Dussehra route march in the 1980s. Vishnu

Shahani can be seen in the tenth file.
like anything. I stayed away, sitting by myself upstairs.

His comrades would go into my kitchen and make
their own tea.
I had learnt from Kewal how popular RSS was in
Sindh before Partition, and how Vishnu had become a
part of it. I had seen for myself his involvement with
the organization, and was never much in favour of it,
considering it an activity which took his time without
giving anything in return. He was the Sangachalak of
the Cantonment division. Pune had two RSS divisions
or Vibhaags, the other being the Pune Mahanagar
Vibhaag. The sangachalak is the head of a unit, and it
is a position of great responsibility. He is considered as
the father of the unit and looks after the members or
swayamsevaks. Anyone who has any kind of difficulty
will go to his sangachalak for help and advice. The
sangachalaks word is never challenged. It is generally
accepted that the sangachalak is a mature person who
will consider the pros and cons of every problem. He
will give advice without any personal interest. I have
been told by Dada Bendre, who was the sangachalak
of Pune Mahanagar, that Vishnu was very committed
to his duties. He had visited the home of all his
swayamsevaks and they all knew very well that if they
had any difficulty, he would be their representative of
the god Vishnu!
Physical prowess is the essence of a militant
organization, even when its days of militancy are long
past. Part of the annual Dussehra ritual was the astra
pooja, a ritual worship of weapons which symbolises
139
Rita Shahani
Letter sent from Rohtak jail by KR Malkani to his

brother-in-law Jivatram Shahani (Baba) when he was
imprisoned during the Emergency.
140
the victory of good over evil. The peak of the RSS year
is a route march on the occasion. Vishnu would take
out his full dress uniform, polish his shoes and big
brass buckle. But to him, the focus of his commitment
to RSS was social service. The organization was a way
to address the wrongs of society; it was a way to spread
his sense of social responsibility. Religion had nothing
to do with it. His dedication was to the discipline and
positive cultural aspects. Vishnu was a truly secular
person. He believed in simple living; he believed in
karma and the consequences of ones actions. But he
never prayed; never expected miracles from above. I
dont think he knew how to do a pooja. They have a
Hanuman mandir at the shakha but I cant imagine
Vishnu bowing his head or doing aarti or ringing the
temple bell! He felt a responsibility towards society
as a whole that had nothing to do with Hinduism.
Vishnu believed Vasudaiva Kutumbakam, a Sanskrit
phrase which means the world is one family. He
had close friends who were Parsi, Muslim, Christian.
Religion was of no consequence. And this, I later
learnt, was the reason that he was never much to his
disappointment imprisoned during the Emergency.
141
Vishnu (right) manning a stall set up by Modern

Book Stall at the grounds of College of
Engineering, Pune, in the 1940s.
Arranged marriage
came to Pune as a young bride from Lucknow in

1957. I was 22 years old.
In 1947, we had travelled from Hyderabad to

Lucknow for some medical treatment my father
needed. Partition was declared, and the borders
became unsafe so we stayed on, waiting for things to
settle down. They never settled down. We could never
go back to Sindh. We never saw our home again.
I grew to adulthood in Lucknow, and my parents
arranged my marriage with Vishnu Shahani, an eligible
young man whose family owned a bookstore in Pune.
Leaving my parents home, my peko, to go and live in
my in-laws home, my sahuro, was not easy, but it was
something every young woman had to adapt to.
Pune was a strange city to me, and everything was
completely new. One of the things that helped in this
difficult transition was the two families whose homes I
could visit for short periods and briefly feel the warmth
and comfort of my peko. One was my fathers cousin
Rita Shahani
Doulat Malkani, and his wife Radhika, who became

my close friend. It was from their home that I got
married. The other was my mothers cousin Kalavati
Punwani, whom we called Kikkan. Her daughter
Sarla was studying to be a doctor at Punes BJ Medical
College and her two little sons later became engineers,
graduating from College of Engineering, Pune. They
accepted me as their sister and I loved spending the
day in their happy home. Sarla and I would go for
Hindi movies together and I would have to keep up
a continuous stream of translation for her having
spent my formative years in Lucknow, my Hindi and
Urdu were of a higher standard than hers.
Kalavati had grown up together in Hyderabad with my
mother and Vishnus mother. They were classmates in
school and the best of friends. My mother-in-law was
a little resentful of the close relationship I developed
with my masi, perhaps concerned that private matters
of our home would become known to others. But
Kalavati always laughed it off, saying, When a
Malkani mother-in-law gets a Malkani daughter-inlaw, she will know how to deal with her!
When my children were born, too, it was Kikkan who
performed the role of mother it was to her home that
I went on the twenty-first day after delivery, ekiho,
the day on which a new mother traditionally visits
her peko. And on the chaliho or fortieth day, when
the new mother is allowed to step out for the first
time, I visited Radhika and was overwhelmed to see
how much time she had spent on her sewing machine,
144
making little baby clothes for my children. Its hard

to explain to people in todays world how much their
company meant to me. The home into which I had
married was my world, but there I was expected to
behave in a certain way. With them, however, it was
clear from the beginning that I did not have to do
anything to gain their love and acceptance. I could
always just take it for granted.
t was a week or so after my marriage. My motherin-law said to me in a friendly tone, You know,
this Kikko, your prince of a bridegroom, he belongs
less to this home and more to the outside world. If he
found a stranger who needed his dhoti he would
happily give even that away!
I was pleased, thinking how blessed I was to have
such a virtuous and unselfish husband who cared so
much for others. Then a few days later, Ami began
reminiscing about the old days and I heard something
new. Do you know what sort of troubles we had to
put up with because of this Kikka! During the freedom
struggle, he spent nine months in Yerwada jail. And he
dragged his old father in too, for three months! For
a full three years we had to live out of bounds from
the cantonment. Our shop was in the cantonment
and we were not allowed to enter the area! All our
people, our friends and relatives, were doing well,
earning well. And there we were, with no home or
145
Rita Shahani
hearth, and no idea where our next meal was coming

from. And all because of this Kikka. Revolutionary
papers were found on him. So those white-skinned
policemen barged into our home, overturned things,
stomping up and down our wooden staircase in their
heavy boots, ransacked our drawers and cupboards,
and found other incriminating material. Alla, what
days were upon us! They created a mess in the house
and havoc in our lives. I spent days doing nothing but
weeping. I wept my heart out. And for months on end
I forgot to laugh. I would look at others smiling and
wonder, why are they laughing, how can they laugh.
So you see, that is what my Kikko is like! Not the least
concerned about the welfare of his own family.
These words of Ami had the opposite effect on me
than perhaps she intended. After all, this was Kikka,
also known as Vishnu, who just happened to be my
husband, and I began to feel mighty proud of him.
But as the years rolled by, day upon day and night
upon night, living with him, observing how much
effort he put into his social work, helping and
uplifting others, I found myself developing the same
sort of longsuffering weariness Ami had expressed to
me. This was the most prominent aspect of Vishnus
personality, something that he had inculcated in
himself right from his young days. Looking back, it
is with some sense of wonder that I think about all
that he did for others and how he ever made a living
for us! I remember any number of students who went
on to become engineers, who borrowed heavy course
146
books from our shop at no charge. These were not

just poor students and underprivileged children, but
children with parents who could well afford to buy
them expensive textbooks. Over the years many have
told me how Vishnu would stop them, saying, Look,
why do you want to buy such an expensive book?
Why dont you just read it and give it back? I have
been told, We didnt even ask for discount. But he
insisted that we borrow the books we wanted! Is this
any way to do business? But he did.
Looking back, this help he gave students fills me with
the poignancy of his own early ambition to become an
engineer, thwarted by the gap in his education because
of his involvement in the freedom movement and stint
in jail. We are a free people, members of the worlds
largest democracy! And we have forgotten that an
entire generation gave up their dreams for us. Many
lost their lives still more suffered jail terms or the
displacement of Partition. Any number of young men
like Vishnu gave up their education; any number of
young women like his sister Sati had to set aside their
dreams of marrying and having their own children,
to be heroines who supported their siblings and their
families through the difficulties of a nascent country.
There was much that made me proud of Vishnu. When
he helped someone he did so with no ulterior motive,
and never expecting anything in return. He would do
what he had to do to help someone and then simply
forget about what he had done. If somebody praised
him, he would simply get up and leave the room.
147
Rita Shahani
Memorial at Yerwada Jail commemorating the

bravery of the freedom fighters who sacrificed
their own freedom and lives during the struggle for
Indian Independence.
148
Karma marga, the path

of right action
e are driving back from Mahableshwar.

Our two children and Vishnus brothers
daughter Choti, a little girl about the same
age as Kumar, are with us in our old Fiat. About 60km
short of Pune, a car drives into a motorcycle, throwing
it down, and driving on without stopping. The two
riders are flung onto the road. Cars are passing by.
Who would stop and get involved in something like
this? Vishnu would. We stop. The boys are injured,
and one is unconscious. Vishnu lifts them one at a time
and puts them in the back seat of the car. They are
bleeding and vomiting. The boy who is unconscious
seems to have a head injury. The rest of us crowd
into the front seat. As we drive, we can hear strange,
frightening sounds coming from behind us. The car
reeks of vomit. I am terrified that he will die what
would happen then? How is Vishnu driving, how does
he change gears, pressed up as we are? In about two
hours we arrive at Punes Sancheti Hospital, where
Rita Shahani
Vishnu goes in and gets the boys admitted and makes

sure they are comfortable. I dont think it even occurs
to him for a minute that the four of us are sitting
outside in the car, waiting.
I never found out who those boys were, what happened
to them, whether the one who was unconscious
survived or not. But this was my husband, Vishnu.
Other people were always more important.
nother day, Vishnu is driving. We are on our

way to Wellesley Road, and the children are
with us. A lorry carrying a load of cement bags
passes by. Suddenly, Vishnu accelerates and overtakes
the truck. What made him do that? I have no idea.
Blaring the horn, he swerves over and stops our car
right in front of the lorry. The lorry is still moving!
Isnt that dangerous? But now the lorry driver has to
press his brakes fast and stop too. Flinging the car
door open, Vishnu races out and opens the door of
the truck. He grabs the drivers collar and, pulling him
out, whacks him a few good ones. Left and right he
slaps him! The labourers in the back of the lorry climb
out. Now Vishnu catches a few of them by the scruff
of the neck and shoves them against each other.
You thieves! You cheats! he shouts. When the
building falls down who will be responsible?
We still do not know what exactly is going on. Now
150
Vishnu notes the license number of the truck and drives

to the next traffic light where he finds a policeman on
duty, and brings him back to the lorry, and hands the
crew over to him. We now understand why they had
accepted Vishnus blows meekly. They were indeed
guilty. Getting back in the car, Vishnu now explains
that he had noticed the men tampering with the sacks,
and that had enraged him.
The British had left, taking their high-handed,
sneering habits with them. But somehow our country
had spawned these people who we had to continue to
fight against. In building a bright and beautiful India,
how could we tolerate the use of cement adulterated
with sand?
e are driving along in our car once more.

Just as we approach the Out gate of
Poona Club, suddenly Vishnu presses the
accelerator and we start going very fast. Theres a boy
riding a bicycle. And we are chasing him. He leaves
the tar road and rides on the unpaved surface on the
left. We follow at breakneck speed.
I am sitting alone in the car with Vishnu. And I am a
bit confused. What on earth is going on?
The boy on the bicycle, trying to escape, rides wildly
into the Poona Club Out gate. And Vishnu follows
him, driving into the club the wrong way. Why is he
151
Rita Shahani
doing something unlawful, so unlike him? Now I am

scared. But it looks like the boy is even more scared
than I am. Flinging his bicycle aside, he starts running.
And Vishnu leaps out of the car and, grabbing the
boys collar, whacks him left and right.
The boy presses his hands together in apology and
began to weep.
Vishnu says to him, Are you ever going to behave like
that again?
The boy is cringing. Never! I will never. Forgive me,
he whimpers.
Vishnu lets him go. As we drive back onto the road,
he tells me that he had seen the boy teasing a girl who
was walking on her own. He was pulling her dupatta
and she was terrified, trying to get away.
How did Vishnu manage to see such things while he
was driving? I certainly hadnt noticed. But he was
like that, always looking outwards, always concerned
about others. And he never hesitated, when the other
person was guilty of doing something wrong, of
administering his version of justice on the spot, even if
it meant giving a few whacks to the other person and
collecting a few apologies in return.
Being a mild mannered and polite person, his friends
would never imagine that Vishnu was capable of
that uninhibited right-and-left slap Ive seen him
treating thieves and rascals to when he felt they were
getting away. It was his lifes mission to fight for the
152
underprivileged and downtrodden. In a way it was

a continuance of his commitment to the freedom
struggle, to the idea of India as a free and upright
country. Was this country, which he and so many
others like him had given everything to create, a place
where a woman could not walk on the road without
fear of harassment and unwanted advances?
ur rishis preached three paths to the

liberation of the soul: gyana marg, bhakti
marg, and karma marg. Gyana is study;
bhakti is worship; karma is work. In the fifth chapter
of our Shrimad Bhagvad Gita, Arjan asks Shri Krishna
which is the best of these three paths. And Krishna
explains that while all are effective, it is the path of
action, the karma marg, which is superior. It is better
to work steadfastly than to be knowledgeable or to
have faith. The condition is that the work should be
unselfish and pure, without any craving for reward.
The true karmayogi works with dedication and love.
And Vishnu was the embodiment of these.
153
Vishnu Shahani Chowk, a busy Pune junction, is on

East Street, facing the location of the erstwhile
Modern Book Stall.
No more jail stories
am sitting at the Poona Club. I am alone. There is

activity around me. People are walking past, on
their way to play games or to meet their friends.
Some are talking. Many are laughing. I watch them,
wondering, will I ever be able to laugh again? Will I
ever be able to enjoy life again?
We had many happy moments together in this club.
But it had been a struggle to join. We had fought
bitterly.
Will you go and play rummy there? he asked when
I suggested that we join Poona Club. I wept, feeling
taunted, and asked him whether, in the twelve years
we had been married, he had seen any signs of a
rummy addict in me. I tried to explain that I wanted
this for my children it was a place where they could
learn swimming, tennis, and golf.
Right! he said, angrily, Teach them these shallow
British habits. I want Kumar to go to the shakha. I
want him to learn discipline. I want my children to
Rita Shahani
learn about our culture. And you want them to learn

tennis and golf!
Maybe Vishnu hated these clubs because they had
been started by the British. In those days, Indians were
not permitted inside. Many displayed boards which
said, Indians and Dogs not allowed.
All the more reason, I insisted. This is now our
country! You got us our freedom for what? We can
proudly use the clubs now, they belong to us!
I cried all night. On the second day, he went and
brought the form. We paid a fee of Rs500 and became
members and enjoyed the club for many years. I
myself learnt to swim so well that I taught a number
of ladies, some of whom still remember it fondly.
I now remember Kewal telling me that Vishnu had
taken a tennis racket with him to college in Karachi,
intending to learn and play the game. And yet, years
later when Kumar wanted to learn, he had thrown
a fit and refused. Why had he done that? What had
happened to change his way of thinking? Why had
I found out about this from someone else, and only
after he was no more? I realised with deep sadness
that these questions would never have answers for me.
On the morning of 23 November 1997, he passed
away.
He had not been ill. There was no warning. No
intimation. There was no goodbye. When I woke up
that morning, he was gone.
156
People tried to console me, saying that only saints

and great people are blessed with such a death. They
neither face any struggle themselves while leaving the
body, and neither do they trouble others.
And did that make me feel better? All I knew was that
when he died, I was lying right next to him. All he
had to do was reach out his hand and tell me that he
was going. But even in his last moments, he had not
wanted to trouble someone who lay not one and a
half feet from him.
The doctors said he had had the cardiac arrest in his
sleep. I would never know how it had struck him, what
he suffered. What I did know was that the previous
day he had worked 10 hours at the shop. Vishnu was
fit he would still climb the stairs running. He was
in the best of health. I was the one who fell ill! Just
that night I had taken a homoeopathic remedy for
restlessness. When I woke next morning, he was gone.
What an awful trick life had played on me! He served
me; he served countless others. He never gave us a
chance to serve him. And he went without warning,
leaving us always in his debt.
25 November 1997 was Vishnus marka. It would also
have been his seventy-fourth birthday. We received
birthday greetings and condolence messages at the
same time. The ground outside our home was filled
with people. They had come from all over not just
Pune, but our friends and relatives from Bombay,
Delhi and other places. I could not feel that he had
157
Rita Shahani
left me. I could not put a garland on his photo. I could

not bear to hear him being called The Late Vishnu
Shahani. How could it be? Vishnu would never sit
quietly, doing nothing. Every waking moment, he was
using all his faculties. People who saw him working in
the shop would tell me with surprise that he collected
money, prepared the receipts, chatting and laughing
with his customers all at the same time. He stamped
the books himself, careful to lay the stamp straight.
When customers wanted a book, he would help them
search for it and try to save them money by advising
cheaper options. Why should they spend so much? He
would suggest that they read and return the book they
wanted. It upset me when he did this.
Our backgrounds were very different. My family
was committed to luxurious living. We enjoyed good
clothes, comfort and style. How could Vishnu and I
ever adjust to each other? But we did. The first few
years were difficult. I suppose we both moved a little
from our principles and met somewhere in the middle.
One thing I must say about Vishnu: he believed in
simple living, but he was not a rigid person. He did
humour me. After a little opposition from me, he
would come round. And once he did, he would never
look back. So I had got used to the fact that I had to
fight for everything. When Lalita wanted to learn to
play the piano, he was upset. Why didnt she learn sitar
instead? I wanted to buy a piano from an American
expatriate couple who were going back home. What
a lot of resistance he put up! And how much we all
158
struggled against him! Every piece of furniture in the

house was procured after a similar battle. I remember
one sofa. He wanted one without arms. I said, No,
we must have a sofa with arms. What is a sofa without
arms! In the end we put in a sofa with one arm.
I must confess that in the end I did as I pleased. And
later Vishnu would feel proud of the thing he had
refused to allow into the house. He would boast about
his piano! After we became members of Poona Club,
he would tell his friends about it proudly. So, despite
the storms that assailed the little boat of our lives,
things never got too rocky or tempestuous.
Just as he never stood in the way of my career or selffulfilment, I never stood in the way of his. And Vishnu
was not just a karma yogi. He was a political man.
I was the opposite fond of music, whether ghazal,
classical or Western. My father was a singer who loved
dance and poetry. To us these subtle pleasures were
the essence of life. Vishnu, however, had no interest in
the arts. His interest was ignited by movements. First
he was with the Indian National Congress and then
the freedom struggle. Then came his jail yatra, and
after that he was devoted to the RSS. His whole being
was suffused with energy when he was engaged in
activities aligned with his ideals! Yes, these are virtues
but so different from mine.
How did we spend twenty-four hours a day together
for more than forty years? How did we manage?
Neither of us was submitting to the other. Perhaps
159
Rita Shahani
we were practicing what Khalil Gibran prescribed for

marriage:
Let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens
dance between you.
Love one another
but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea
between the shores of your souls.
It is hard to believe that Vishnu left us sixteen years
ago. And I am still here, watching the world go by.
When Vishnu died, I lost a husband. My children lost
their father. It was the end of an era in which children
could feel proud of a father who had served a jail
sentence.
Time moves on. The values of life change, attitudes
change, and human behaviour changes. In the first half
of the last century, the common people of India fuelled
a huge movement unlike anything the world had seen
before. They brought about tremendous changes, and
they achieved freedom, a basic human right denied
them by the British for centuries, for future generations
of Indians. In the process of their struggle, they were
insulted; they were imprisoned; they were tortured.
Efforts were made to humiliate them but so proud
were they to be a part of this freedom movement that
when their jailers tried to force them to bow their
160
heads, they endured a rain of blows rather than do so.

When all is well in a family, its members may quarrel
and give importance to petty grievances. But when
an outsider enters and tries to dominate, they forget
their trivial differences and unite themselves in trying
to push the stranger out. There was a surge of this
energy in India in the heady pre-Independence days.
The entire country vibrated with the feelings of deshbhakti, slogans like Bharat mata ki jai! and patriotic
songs. Young people today have forgotten the struggles
and sacrifices that gave the freedom and democracy
which they take for granted. I have used these real-life
incidents of three generations of the Shahani family,
to bring alive scenes of that era, showing people of
today the arrogant manners of the British soldiers, the
hardship and bravery of the Indian freedom fighters,
and the way in which family stories can be handed
down through the generations.
And so the caravan passes by, engulfing me with the
fog of memories of bygone days, leaving my eyes
misty, as my hand continues to write.
161
Vishnu and Lalita in Mahableshwar in 1970.
Loss
There is a loss
When tears dont flow
Just sand in the eye
Dust clogging every pore
But this,
Drowned breath,
Choked thought,
Crushed the spirit at the core.
That one
Who gave so much
Took so little
Passed so silently to the other shore.
Madhavi Kapur
GLOSSARY
aarti: a Hindu ritual usually performed at the end of ceremonial
worship
ahimsa: non-violence
alla: a Sindhi expression used as an exclamation
arre: an exclamation, something like hey!
astra pooja: ritual worship of weapons to commemorate the victory of
good over evil
azad: free
Babla: affectionate name by which a child may be called
Bandar Sena: monkey brigade
bandh: stop or close. Often used to describe a strike or shutdown.
beedi: traditional Indian hand-rolled cigarette
begum: lady or queen
bhagat: a Sindhi folk art incorporating song, dance, story and drama.
bhai: brother
Bharat Mata ki Jai: Victory to Mother India!
chacha: fathers brother
chaliho: the fortieth day after a baby is born
chappal: Indian slippers
chappatis: flat, unleavened bread
chowk: intersection of roads
CID: Criminal Investigation Department
dabba: box, in this case one in which food is packed to eat later
dada: elder brother; sometimes used for father, or as a respectful way
of addressing an older man.
detenue: described by Oxford Dictionaries as Indian. A person held in
custody; a detainee.
desh-bhakti: devotion to country; patriotism
dharamshala: free lodging, usually provided by a Hindu or Jain
religious organization
Sahewal Jailaji Diary: Diary of Sahewal Jail
Dilli chalo: lets march to Delhi!
didi: elder sister; sometimes used as a respectful way of addressing an
older woman
dupatta: a wide scarf that forms a part of traditional north Indian
womens attire
ekiho: the day on which a new mother traditionally takes her baby to
her mothers home
externment: legal order to remove a person or group of people from an area.

fauj:
army
an Urdu verse-form set to music
hartal: strike action or mass protest against authority
Hind: India
Heeu kehiro sangram: What sort of battle is this!
Inquilab Zindabad: Long Live the Revolution!
karma: concept of action and a cycle of cause-and-effect, in Indian religions
khadi: coarse fabric spun on a loom by hand
khana: food
Kikka/Kikkan/Kikko: affectionate name by which a child may be called
kurta: traditional shirt, usually long and loose
maidan: a large open ground
mandir: temple
mama: mothers brother
marka: ceremony traditionally held by Sindhis on the fourth day
after a persons death
masi: mothers sister
mushairas: a poetic symposium; an event where Urdu poets gather to
perform their works
peko: the childhood home of a married woman
peth: the Marathi word for a locality in Pune
pooja: ritual worship
prabhat feri: an age-old tradition of walking through the streets in
the early hours of the morning singing spiritual songs. It was used
during the freedom movement to inspire patriotic feelings.
radiogram: a now old-fashioned piece of furniture that combined a
valve radio and record player.
Raksha Bandhan: a Hindu festival, also known as Rakhi, in which
a sister ties a sacred thread around her brothers wrist. This is a
symbol of her love and prayers for his well-being, and the brother's
lifelong vow to protect her.
RSS: Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh
sahuro: a married womans home
samho: Sindhi word which means in front
sangachalak: head of an RSS unit
satyagraha: commitment to truth. This word was developed by
Mohandas Gandhi to describe the campaigns of the Indian freedom
movement.
shakha: branch or limb; also a term for an RSS morning gathering in
a fixed location
Swadeshi: a movement introduced during the struggle for
independence, to create economic self reliance. Strategies included
boycotting British products and the revival of domestic products
and production processes.
swaraj: self-governance or self-rule. The word usually refers to
Mohandas Gandhis concept for Indian independence from foreign
rule.
Tommy: the name commonly ascribed to the British private soldier in
the First World War
Vande Mataram: a poem by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyaya, a hymn to
the motherland, which played a vital role in the freedom movement
Vasudaiva Kutumbakam: the world is one family
vikas: progress
yatra: journey
zamindar: landlord in rural India
ghazal:
Rita, Lalita, Kumar and Vishnu pose outside

Fredericks Hotel, Mahableshwar, in 1970.

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Tales from Yerwada Jail

Published by black-and-white fountain

e celebrated the Golden Jubilee of Indian

of what ordinary Indians endured during that time.

Tales from Yerwada Jail

Rita has also made it clear that her father-in-law had

The Central Prison located at Yerwada, Pune, is the

A nightly bedtime story

e had finished our dinner and were getting

Jivatram Shahani (Baba), his wife Devi (Ami), Sati,

Tales from Yerwada Jail

was a large military cantonment. It is the southern

Yes, they would be very angry! But Baba was firm

Tales from Yerwada Jail

called Quit India. The cover

that I used to distribute. In my drawers they found

Did you really make

he next morning, after the children left for

I asked Vishnu, Yesterday you were talking about

Vishnu and Rita on a family holiday in

Tales from Yerwada Jail

So were you involved in such a group? I asked

were two movements in our country and they were

Tales from Yerwada Jail

like that anymore! These days, people only think of

army which urged us to step forward, singing happily,

t was bedtime again. The children were waiting

papers I could find, I started stuffing them into the fire.

Tales from Yerwada Jail

near Lakshmi Road. There was a large hall there, and

Oh! What did they look like?

Tales from Yerwada Jail

from home and I would wash that. I had to wash our

What about the bathroom?

East Street, Pune, circa 1950

But what happened to

ada, after you and Baba went to jail, what

Ami and our family had a very difficult time. In those

as an enemy of the British and be harassed by them.

Tales from Yerwada Jail

Yes. One was the main Central Prison. Then we were

Mrs Devi Shahani (Ami) declared undesirable by

A visit to the jail

e were driving along the airport road.

The externment order on Ami was lifted on 1

Tales from Yerwada Jail

were accommodated here. Because we were detained

son! explained Lalita.

Tales from Yerwada Jail

my cheeks all the time. When I saw people laughing, I

airport road? There are double walls, and they are so

Excerpt from the transcript of an interview of

Jail beds, jail food

t was Sunday. At breakfast time Vishnu informed

Mahadev Desais Day-to-Day with Gandhi diaries have

Tales from Yerwada Jail

in all that goes on inside a jail, you can ask him

dinner, they started reminiscing about their time in

Tales from Yerwada Jail

Did they try to stop you from meeting each other?

My mother and your Ami used to send us food.

Tales from Yerwada Jail

Uncle, what did you do in the evenings?