08-24-2004, 12:34 AM
<span style='font-size:14pt;line-height:100%'><b>The Life and Death of WÄsudeo Balwant Phadke</b></span>
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->âEven as the nation celebrates its 57th Independence Day, with the usual accolades being showered upon the father of the Nation, who wielded the remarkable weapon of Satyagraha against the might of the British Empire, it may also be worth remembering some of the other unsung heroes of the Freedom Struggle, whose intentions, aspirations, and sacrifices were equally noble, though their means of execution often violent.â<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->
As noted above, it may be worth our while spending some time tracing the origins of militant or armed nationalism and the relative rôle that it played in the Indian Freedom Struggle. While this movement as such belongs to 20th century (which produced such a plethora of revolutionaries), instances of armed resistance to British authority are many in the latter half of the 19th century, and manifested in forms like Wahabism, the Kuka revolt in PanjÄb, the Birsa Movement in ChotanÄgpur etc. To this may be added the repercussions of the Indigo planatation outrages (one of the blackest chapters of the British rule) and the agrarian riots of Poona (1875). Also, as I observed elsewhere, Wahabism, which some have equated with a Muslim national movement, was basically a religious movement which transferred its aggression from the Sikhs to the British.
What all these mass rebellions tried to achieve, one single man in Maharashtra attempted, by single handedly taking on the British, aided by the strength of his arms alone! Incongruous as it sounds, WÄsudeo Balwant Phadke (1845â1883) has gone down as one of the (relatively) unsung heroes of the Freedom Struggle. I have to say that the tale of WÄsudeo Balwant Phadke is not a very romantic one; on the contrary, it has a rather abrupt and tragic ending. But, nonetheless, it does raise some philosophical questions as regards to the means that may be employed to achieve a political end.
It is not my intention to lionize or glorify him out of proper proportion or commend some of the methods he employed, which were often barbaric and unsuited to the times. Indeed, in the final analysis, one of the most tragic aspects of WÄsudeoâs unsuccessful attempt was that his final victims were hapless Baniyas and other townsfolk of Maharashtra, while his actual enemies, the British, he could never touch. Yet, he left a legacy which within a quarter of a century would spread all over India and attain menacing proportions.
A very interesting echo or parallel to his life may be found in Bankim Chandraâs 1882 novel âAnandamathâ, which describes the doings of a heroic band of brigand sanyasis, looting government treasuries and bravely fighting the British Empire. Indeed, some of the scenes of Anandamath â like revolutionaries hiding in remote forests and temples, enlisting the support of local militias, swooping down upon government hoards, and using the money to train an army â are all very reminiscent of WÄsudeoâs own deeds and settings. Another interesting parallel is that Phadkeâs hatred towards the British was inflamed by the famine which ravaged western India in 1876-77. Bankimâs militant sanyasis too were deeply stirred by the terrible Bengal famine of 1772. It is quite amazing how Bankimâs novel, embedded the great song âBande MÄtaramâ, went on to inspire a whole generation of patriots, not just from Bengal, but all over India!
The best way to narrate Phadkeâs tale is to weave in excerpts from his own diary and biography :
[This account is largely drawn from RC Majumdarâs âBritish paramountcy and Indian Renaissanceâ, (Vol IX of âThe History and Culture of the Indian Peopleâ, Bharati Vidya Bhavan, ed. RC Majumdar)]
âBorn in1845 in the district of Kolaba near Bombay, WÄsudeo Balwant did not receive much education, but just enough knowledge of English to secure a government service, which he did in his teens.â [From early childhood, he never had any great inclination towards studies.] âIn 1863, he joined the Commissariat (Military Accounts) and continued there for over 15 years.â
âExtremely sensitive and impulsive by nature, WÄsudeo had developed a feeling of profound dislike for the British government and that feeling deepened into hatred when in 1869 there was some delay on part of his superiors in granting him leave for which he had applied on account of his motherâs illness. It was sanctioned too late and when he rushed to his motherâs bedside she was already dead.â
This apart, his feelings of hatred were further stirred by the terrible famines of 1867-77 and he grew firmly convinced that the British were the sole cause of Indiaâs miseries. It occurred to him that if only he could stir up the minds of youths and make them aware of the injustice and oppression they were subject to, he would soon be able to organize a militia which would rise in rebellion against the British. To this end, he began organizing and training a band of young men in the use of arms. But his passionate appeals found little sympathy among the educated people and he had to garner support from the lower or backward communities of Maharashtra like the Ramoshis.
Practical considerations led him to realize that the only way he could raise a militia was by acquiring money through dacoity. He gave lectures in Pune and other places to expound this idea. From his autobiography we get a glimpse of the workings of his febrile mind, fully consumed as he was by the thought of ruining the British. He writes:
âFirst of all, having gone to Naroobaâs Wada, I performed prayers. Going and coming on the road, I poisoned the minds of the people against the Europeans. My mind turned against the English and I wished to ruin them. From morn to night, while bathing, eating, and sleeping I was constantly brooding over this â how will I destroy the British. I used to get up at midnight and rave as one mad.â
He seems to have had some innate skill in arms, coupled with a warlike urge. He writes: âI have a great love for weapons and always kept 2 or 3 guns, 5-6 swords, pattas (long swords), spears, etc by my sideâ
[This was subsequently corroborated by the search results of his house in Pune by the Police.]
Finally, on 20th February 1879, having obtained some money from a SÄwarkar, he decided to put his scheme of dacoity into practice. He held a large scale meeting at a village called Loni Khand, 12 miles from Pune on the Nagar road. Here he expounded to his followers his ambitious plans of disrupting the British trains, telegraph, and postal systems. Further, he described how he would fall upon the prisons and set all the convicts free, and then plunder the treasury with the help of an armed band. Again and again, in passionate terms, he elucidated to his band the need to raise money.
Two days later, theory was put into practice as he and his men committed a dacoity in the village of Dhamari. He describes how he broke into nearly all shops and looted about Rs 400 and had a short skirmish with the police. The terror stricken inhabitants fled, but public support was not all together lacking for his enterprise. It is said that a lady of a distinguished family prepared food for Phadkeâs party while they were hiding in the ravines.
He soon received intelligence that the cavalry were coming after him, but managed to avoid the police by seamlessly drifting into the local populace. He tried hard to befriend them and elicit their sympathies with his exhortations: âTrust me and have no fear of me⦠the day of comforts for ryots has comeâ¦â Accordingly, some villagers brought him milk and curds.
In this vein Phadke continued his spate of dacoities and several villages were looted. But his ambitions of looting the Government Treasury received a setback when he painfully realized that he could hardly depend upon his raiding Ramoshis for such a major enterprise. They were hardly inspired by patriotic feeling and had joined him out of selfish interests â that is, to partake in the plunder. He expresses his bitterness and frustration at his rabble thus:
âSeeing what had occurred in the last 10 days, I began to seriously consider what all this would end in, and how I could ever accomplish anything with such people (Ramoshis), who on committing a dacoity first of all rob and make away with the booty and then bully for their share of the division. Under such circumstances, how can 200 men be collected?â He further laments: âIf only I had 200 men, I would have looted the Khed treasury. With this, I could have raised a cavalry of 500 horses. If only I had horsemen, they would have been good men, not deceitful like these Ramoshis, who fear to go before guns, but have such great avarice for money!â
[In this respect, they were not unlike the raiding cavalry of the Holkars which a century earlier had terrorized many lands.]
Despite these difficulties Phadke seems to have continued his guerilla movement through the 1870s. Repeatedly he pleaded to the people that all human endeavors start small, but soon swell in force, and that some day the tide would definitely turn against the British. These pleas often fell deaf ears, but he found some support from the Dhangar community. On the night of March 29th, 1879, Phadke committed two dacoities, but soon after brawls broke out over the distribution of the plunder. Phadke realized that the Ramoshis had misappropriated part of the loot without even informing him.
Fully disgusted and disillusioned by this, Phadke decided to abandon his plans and live the life of a wandering mendicant. He was so distraught that all his high ideals had come to nothing that he even seems to have contemplated ending his life. In the guise of a mendicant, wearing long disheveled hair, he wandered through many regions like Nasik, Nagar, Khandesh, Berar, Indore, Ujjain, Kolhapur, Tasgaon, Miraj, Sangli, Baroda etc. Finally, he retired to remote shrine in the Kurnool district. And there, fully weighed down by his self-appointed task of fighting the might of the British Empire, an air of resignation and despair seems to have come over him. He laments pathetically:
âFinding no success to be to be obtained in this world, I having gone to world above should plead on behalf of the people of Indiaâ¦â Then, dreading the consequences of the British rule he says âIt is not my life alone, but thousands of others will be killed for I am not alone in this struggle.â Thus, despite masterminding brutal crimes, in the core of his heart he always seemed to have the larger end in view and his depth of feeling for his fellow countrymen is quite touching: âI have only seven days to live. So I bow before the feet of all of you, my dear brethren, citizens of India and give up my life for you. I pray to God that he may take my life as a sacrifice for your welfare. I will remain pleading for you in the just court of God.â
But suddenly all this despondency seems to worn off and he was back to his normal self again. He made his way to a Ghanur, village near Sholapur and soon he came in contact with one Raghunath Moreshwar Bhatt. The latter turned out to be the very ally Phadke had needed all these years. But his position was now quite desperate, with a highly tempting government reward of Rs 3000 hanging for his head.
Bhatt promised him 200 men, though it must be said that the choice of the men was rather dubious. He introduced Phadke to one Ismail Khan, a Rohilla brigand. The Rohilla chief agreed to supply Phadke 500 Rohillas at a rate of Rs 10 per mensem each. A formal agreement was signed to this effect.
[This sudden, unnatural friendship with the Rohillas strikes one as the most bizarre part of the tale. It is very strange how Phadke â who would definitely have retained some historical memories â could have even thought of forging an alliance with the Rohillas, the avowed enemies of the Marathas at the battle of Panipat.]
Be that as it may, Raghunath also managed to muster a few other men, and finally it all totaled to a band of 900 armed men, including the 500 Rohillas. But alas, Phadkeâs dream of putting these men to good use would never come true. The British, who by now had got full wind of all his activities, were in hot pursuit. Major Daniel, on the information supplied by spies arrived at Ghanur and surrounded the village. Phadke managed to escape but to his ill luck, his papers fell into the hands of Daniel. Raghunathâs mother had actually thrown them into the river but they were recovered by Daniel. Among the documents salvaged, were a Bombay army map, a diary, and several proclamations offering rewards with sums of Rs 10,000 or 5000, etc for the Governorâs head, and similar incentives for the lesser Europeans. Another very curious document was recovered which sheds some light about what could have proved to be the actual undoing of Phadke. There was a letter written by an astrologer recommending Phadke to Maulvi Mahmood Sahib, who as the head of the Rohillas and Arabs in the Nizamâs service.
[The whole thing sounds very unnatural. There is little doubt that Phadke was betrayed by one of his own militia men, lured by the prospect of a handsome government reward, rather than dying for the country. There was definitely someone somewhere in his loop playing a dirty double game.]
Phadke fled from place to place, but was relentlessly hunted by Major Daniel and Abdul Haque, a henchman of the Nizam, until they finally came across him lying asleep in the precincts of a temple in the remote village of Dever Nadigi in the Kaladgi district of Hyderabad, at 3 am on 21st July 1879. Thus ended the tale of the unfortunate WÄsudeo Balwant Phadke.
The rest may be told very briefly. He was tried under various sections of the law for collection of men, arms, and ammunition with the intent of waging war against the Queen, and for exciting feeling of disaffection against the Government. All these charges were amply proved by his diary, his autobiography and his own confessions. He was sentenced to transportation for life, with the Government deciding to send him to Aden rather than the Andamans (where Veer SÄwarkar another heroic revolutionary had to eke out his miserable days, churning the oil mill). He was fettered, trussed and placed in solitary confinement in a small cell in Aden. But even in such straits, Phadke managed to pull off a miraculous escape by wrenching a door off its hinges and using the hinge to break his fetters! The spirit and courage of the man is truly admirable! Unfortunately, though, he was recaptured the very next day. Now Phadkeâs spirit was at last broken and by August 1882 he reduced his food by half and developed Phthisis. Gradually he sank and died on February 17th 1882.
Tragic though his end was, WÄsudeo did play his part in sowing the seeds of militant Indian nationalism, which, in conjunction with the âCivil Disobedienceâ and âNon-cooperationâ movements would very soon threaten the existence of the British Empire in India. He was thus a worthy predecessor to the likes of Bhagat Singh and Chandrashekar Azad who sacrificed their lives in the great struggle.
Finally, as the great historian RC Majumdar sums up, WÄsudeoâs life raises some philosophical questions about the eternal problem of âhow far the end justifies the means.â The Indian freedom struggle produced great heroes at both ends of the spectrum, with the Mahatma on the one hand and Subash Bose on the other. Inspiring as their individual lives may be, it is still a perennial problem as to what constitutes a mature human response to tyranny, hegemony, and oppression. Wasudeoâs life also illustrates how difficult it is to secure support even for just causes. While many may condemn the sorry state of affairs vociferously, how many actually have the guts to sacrifice their lives for a cause? But wait a moment. I think I should actually recant that statement -- given the recent plethora of suicide bombings, jihads etc in various parts of the world. It is probably much easier to sacrifice oneâs life than to actually get down and dirty with the bureaucratic machinery. This is especially relevant in the context of the apathetic response to the many social, political, and environmental challenges that Indian society faces. Very soon, one realizes to oneâs despair that just like Wasudeo, any attempt at change will most likely result in a sordid end. "Things will never change". So, why not just keep quiet and accept things as they are? Yet, it takes but one spark to set ablaze a haystack; So too, it takes just a few men to inspire an entire nation.... (Or so the idealist would think.)
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->âEven as the nation celebrates its 57th Independence Day, with the usual accolades being showered upon the father of the Nation, who wielded the remarkable weapon of Satyagraha against the might of the British Empire, it may also be worth remembering some of the other unsung heroes of the Freedom Struggle, whose intentions, aspirations, and sacrifices were equally noble, though their means of execution often violent.â<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->
As noted above, it may be worth our while spending some time tracing the origins of militant or armed nationalism and the relative rôle that it played in the Indian Freedom Struggle. While this movement as such belongs to 20th century (which produced such a plethora of revolutionaries), instances of armed resistance to British authority are many in the latter half of the 19th century, and manifested in forms like Wahabism, the Kuka revolt in PanjÄb, the Birsa Movement in ChotanÄgpur etc. To this may be added the repercussions of the Indigo planatation outrages (one of the blackest chapters of the British rule) and the agrarian riots of Poona (1875). Also, as I observed elsewhere, Wahabism, which some have equated with a Muslim national movement, was basically a religious movement which transferred its aggression from the Sikhs to the British.
What all these mass rebellions tried to achieve, one single man in Maharashtra attempted, by single handedly taking on the British, aided by the strength of his arms alone! Incongruous as it sounds, WÄsudeo Balwant Phadke (1845â1883) has gone down as one of the (relatively) unsung heroes of the Freedom Struggle. I have to say that the tale of WÄsudeo Balwant Phadke is not a very romantic one; on the contrary, it has a rather abrupt and tragic ending. But, nonetheless, it does raise some philosophical questions as regards to the means that may be employed to achieve a political end.
It is not my intention to lionize or glorify him out of proper proportion or commend some of the methods he employed, which were often barbaric and unsuited to the times. Indeed, in the final analysis, one of the most tragic aspects of WÄsudeoâs unsuccessful attempt was that his final victims were hapless Baniyas and other townsfolk of Maharashtra, while his actual enemies, the British, he could never touch. Yet, he left a legacy which within a quarter of a century would spread all over India and attain menacing proportions.
A very interesting echo or parallel to his life may be found in Bankim Chandraâs 1882 novel âAnandamathâ, which describes the doings of a heroic band of brigand sanyasis, looting government treasuries and bravely fighting the British Empire. Indeed, some of the scenes of Anandamath â like revolutionaries hiding in remote forests and temples, enlisting the support of local militias, swooping down upon government hoards, and using the money to train an army â are all very reminiscent of WÄsudeoâs own deeds and settings. Another interesting parallel is that Phadkeâs hatred towards the British was inflamed by the famine which ravaged western India in 1876-77. Bankimâs militant sanyasis too were deeply stirred by the terrible Bengal famine of 1772. It is quite amazing how Bankimâs novel, embedded the great song âBande MÄtaramâ, went on to inspire a whole generation of patriots, not just from Bengal, but all over India!
The best way to narrate Phadkeâs tale is to weave in excerpts from his own diary and biography :
[This account is largely drawn from RC Majumdarâs âBritish paramountcy and Indian Renaissanceâ, (Vol IX of âThe History and Culture of the Indian Peopleâ, Bharati Vidya Bhavan, ed. RC Majumdar)]
âBorn in1845 in the district of Kolaba near Bombay, WÄsudeo Balwant did not receive much education, but just enough knowledge of English to secure a government service, which he did in his teens.â [From early childhood, he never had any great inclination towards studies.] âIn 1863, he joined the Commissariat (Military Accounts) and continued there for over 15 years.â
âExtremely sensitive and impulsive by nature, WÄsudeo had developed a feeling of profound dislike for the British government and that feeling deepened into hatred when in 1869 there was some delay on part of his superiors in granting him leave for which he had applied on account of his motherâs illness. It was sanctioned too late and when he rushed to his motherâs bedside she was already dead.â
This apart, his feelings of hatred were further stirred by the terrible famines of 1867-77 and he grew firmly convinced that the British were the sole cause of Indiaâs miseries. It occurred to him that if only he could stir up the minds of youths and make them aware of the injustice and oppression they were subject to, he would soon be able to organize a militia which would rise in rebellion against the British. To this end, he began organizing and training a band of young men in the use of arms. But his passionate appeals found little sympathy among the educated people and he had to garner support from the lower or backward communities of Maharashtra like the Ramoshis.
Practical considerations led him to realize that the only way he could raise a militia was by acquiring money through dacoity. He gave lectures in Pune and other places to expound this idea. From his autobiography we get a glimpse of the workings of his febrile mind, fully consumed as he was by the thought of ruining the British. He writes:
âFirst of all, having gone to Naroobaâs Wada, I performed prayers. Going and coming on the road, I poisoned the minds of the people against the Europeans. My mind turned against the English and I wished to ruin them. From morn to night, while bathing, eating, and sleeping I was constantly brooding over this â how will I destroy the British. I used to get up at midnight and rave as one mad.â
He seems to have had some innate skill in arms, coupled with a warlike urge. He writes: âI have a great love for weapons and always kept 2 or 3 guns, 5-6 swords, pattas (long swords), spears, etc by my sideâ
[This was subsequently corroborated by the search results of his house in Pune by the Police.]
Finally, on 20th February 1879, having obtained some money from a SÄwarkar, he decided to put his scheme of dacoity into practice. He held a large scale meeting at a village called Loni Khand, 12 miles from Pune on the Nagar road. Here he expounded to his followers his ambitious plans of disrupting the British trains, telegraph, and postal systems. Further, he described how he would fall upon the prisons and set all the convicts free, and then plunder the treasury with the help of an armed band. Again and again, in passionate terms, he elucidated to his band the need to raise money.
Two days later, theory was put into practice as he and his men committed a dacoity in the village of Dhamari. He describes how he broke into nearly all shops and looted about Rs 400 and had a short skirmish with the police. The terror stricken inhabitants fled, but public support was not all together lacking for his enterprise. It is said that a lady of a distinguished family prepared food for Phadkeâs party while they were hiding in the ravines.
He soon received intelligence that the cavalry were coming after him, but managed to avoid the police by seamlessly drifting into the local populace. He tried hard to befriend them and elicit their sympathies with his exhortations: âTrust me and have no fear of me⦠the day of comforts for ryots has comeâ¦â Accordingly, some villagers brought him milk and curds.
In this vein Phadke continued his spate of dacoities and several villages were looted. But his ambitions of looting the Government Treasury received a setback when he painfully realized that he could hardly depend upon his raiding Ramoshis for such a major enterprise. They were hardly inspired by patriotic feeling and had joined him out of selfish interests â that is, to partake in the plunder. He expresses his bitterness and frustration at his rabble thus:
âSeeing what had occurred in the last 10 days, I began to seriously consider what all this would end in, and how I could ever accomplish anything with such people (Ramoshis), who on committing a dacoity first of all rob and make away with the booty and then bully for their share of the division. Under such circumstances, how can 200 men be collected?â He further laments: âIf only I had 200 men, I would have looted the Khed treasury. With this, I could have raised a cavalry of 500 horses. If only I had horsemen, they would have been good men, not deceitful like these Ramoshis, who fear to go before guns, but have such great avarice for money!â
[In this respect, they were not unlike the raiding cavalry of the Holkars which a century earlier had terrorized many lands.]
Despite these difficulties Phadke seems to have continued his guerilla movement through the 1870s. Repeatedly he pleaded to the people that all human endeavors start small, but soon swell in force, and that some day the tide would definitely turn against the British. These pleas often fell deaf ears, but he found some support from the Dhangar community. On the night of March 29th, 1879, Phadke committed two dacoities, but soon after brawls broke out over the distribution of the plunder. Phadke realized that the Ramoshis had misappropriated part of the loot without even informing him.
Fully disgusted and disillusioned by this, Phadke decided to abandon his plans and live the life of a wandering mendicant. He was so distraught that all his high ideals had come to nothing that he even seems to have contemplated ending his life. In the guise of a mendicant, wearing long disheveled hair, he wandered through many regions like Nasik, Nagar, Khandesh, Berar, Indore, Ujjain, Kolhapur, Tasgaon, Miraj, Sangli, Baroda etc. Finally, he retired to remote shrine in the Kurnool district. And there, fully weighed down by his self-appointed task of fighting the might of the British Empire, an air of resignation and despair seems to have come over him. He laments pathetically:
âFinding no success to be to be obtained in this world, I having gone to world above should plead on behalf of the people of Indiaâ¦â Then, dreading the consequences of the British rule he says âIt is not my life alone, but thousands of others will be killed for I am not alone in this struggle.â Thus, despite masterminding brutal crimes, in the core of his heart he always seemed to have the larger end in view and his depth of feeling for his fellow countrymen is quite touching: âI have only seven days to live. So I bow before the feet of all of you, my dear brethren, citizens of India and give up my life for you. I pray to God that he may take my life as a sacrifice for your welfare. I will remain pleading for you in the just court of God.â
But suddenly all this despondency seems to worn off and he was back to his normal self again. He made his way to a Ghanur, village near Sholapur and soon he came in contact with one Raghunath Moreshwar Bhatt. The latter turned out to be the very ally Phadke had needed all these years. But his position was now quite desperate, with a highly tempting government reward of Rs 3000 hanging for his head.
Bhatt promised him 200 men, though it must be said that the choice of the men was rather dubious. He introduced Phadke to one Ismail Khan, a Rohilla brigand. The Rohilla chief agreed to supply Phadke 500 Rohillas at a rate of Rs 10 per mensem each. A formal agreement was signed to this effect.
[This sudden, unnatural friendship with the Rohillas strikes one as the most bizarre part of the tale. It is very strange how Phadke â who would definitely have retained some historical memories â could have even thought of forging an alliance with the Rohillas, the avowed enemies of the Marathas at the battle of Panipat.]
Be that as it may, Raghunath also managed to muster a few other men, and finally it all totaled to a band of 900 armed men, including the 500 Rohillas. But alas, Phadkeâs dream of putting these men to good use would never come true. The British, who by now had got full wind of all his activities, were in hot pursuit. Major Daniel, on the information supplied by spies arrived at Ghanur and surrounded the village. Phadke managed to escape but to his ill luck, his papers fell into the hands of Daniel. Raghunathâs mother had actually thrown them into the river but they were recovered by Daniel. Among the documents salvaged, were a Bombay army map, a diary, and several proclamations offering rewards with sums of Rs 10,000 or 5000, etc for the Governorâs head, and similar incentives for the lesser Europeans. Another very curious document was recovered which sheds some light about what could have proved to be the actual undoing of Phadke. There was a letter written by an astrologer recommending Phadke to Maulvi Mahmood Sahib, who as the head of the Rohillas and Arabs in the Nizamâs service.
[The whole thing sounds very unnatural. There is little doubt that Phadke was betrayed by one of his own militia men, lured by the prospect of a handsome government reward, rather than dying for the country. There was definitely someone somewhere in his loop playing a dirty double game.]
Phadke fled from place to place, but was relentlessly hunted by Major Daniel and Abdul Haque, a henchman of the Nizam, until they finally came across him lying asleep in the precincts of a temple in the remote village of Dever Nadigi in the Kaladgi district of Hyderabad, at 3 am on 21st July 1879. Thus ended the tale of the unfortunate WÄsudeo Balwant Phadke.
The rest may be told very briefly. He was tried under various sections of the law for collection of men, arms, and ammunition with the intent of waging war against the Queen, and for exciting feeling of disaffection against the Government. All these charges were amply proved by his diary, his autobiography and his own confessions. He was sentenced to transportation for life, with the Government deciding to send him to Aden rather than the Andamans (where Veer SÄwarkar another heroic revolutionary had to eke out his miserable days, churning the oil mill). He was fettered, trussed and placed in solitary confinement in a small cell in Aden. But even in such straits, Phadke managed to pull off a miraculous escape by wrenching a door off its hinges and using the hinge to break his fetters! The spirit and courage of the man is truly admirable! Unfortunately, though, he was recaptured the very next day. Now Phadkeâs spirit was at last broken and by August 1882 he reduced his food by half and developed Phthisis. Gradually he sank and died on February 17th 1882.
Tragic though his end was, WÄsudeo did play his part in sowing the seeds of militant Indian nationalism, which, in conjunction with the âCivil Disobedienceâ and âNon-cooperationâ movements would very soon threaten the existence of the British Empire in India. He was thus a worthy predecessor to the likes of Bhagat Singh and Chandrashekar Azad who sacrificed their lives in the great struggle.
Finally, as the great historian RC Majumdar sums up, WÄsudeoâs life raises some philosophical questions about the eternal problem of âhow far the end justifies the means.â The Indian freedom struggle produced great heroes at both ends of the spectrum, with the Mahatma on the one hand and Subash Bose on the other. Inspiring as their individual lives may be, it is still a perennial problem as to what constitutes a mature human response to tyranny, hegemony, and oppression. Wasudeoâs life also illustrates how difficult it is to secure support even for just causes. While many may condemn the sorry state of affairs vociferously, how many actually have the guts to sacrifice their lives for a cause? But wait a moment. I think I should actually recant that statement -- given the recent plethora of suicide bombings, jihads etc in various parts of the world. It is probably much easier to sacrifice oneâs life than to actually get down and dirty with the bureaucratic machinery. This is especially relevant in the context of the apathetic response to the many social, political, and environmental challenges that Indian society faces. Very soon, one realizes to oneâs despair that just like Wasudeo, any attempt at change will most likely result in a sordid end. "Things will never change". So, why not just keep quiet and accept things as they are? Yet, it takes but one spark to set ablaze a haystack; So too, it takes just a few men to inspire an entire nation.... (Or so the idealist would think.)