Chachaji

In 1930, the picketting was organised by the Delhi Provincial Congress Committee and the prominent leader of this programme was Satyawati Behan. Smt. Memobai was the next in command; she was illiterate, yet a powerful organiser and leader, followed by three or four women workers. There were about one hundred volunteers, who were placed in different katras, where there were shops selling foreign cloth. The women volunteers stopped the sale of foreign cloth by the retail shops. But at the wholesale shops, there was a lot of resentment by merchants as they were unable to sell and move the cloth bundles to the outstations and retail merchants. There were underhand dealings by which they wanted to take away the cloth to the railway station. It was just a kind of struggle that they were trying to wage and we were trying to defeat their moves. Sometimes, we caught bales of foreign cloth at the Railway Station, brought them back and stored in the Congress Office. The seized goods were given back to the owner after they paid the fines, as there was no other alternative for them. It was not true to say that the merchants paid the fines willingly. The fines thus collected went to the Delhi Provincial Congress Committee, which was never in a comfortable position financially. There were no regular sources of income except some donations. Mostly, they were secret donations. If any sympathiser or donor wanted to give money he could not give it openly because the British Government would come to know of it and start harassing him. Whenever money was needed, senior leaders would collect donations. I know one or two prominent donors who were contributing the money. One was Lala Pearey Lal Motorwala of Pearey Lal & Sons, and the other Lala Narain Dutt, contractor, who was a leading Arya Samajist; he could bring donations from other contractors also. Lala Peary Lal’s son was Shri Raghunandan Saran, who was a member of the Congress and was actively participating in the freedom movement. He became a good friend of Shri Jawaharlal Nehru in those days. He was also my colleague.

I used to work quite a lot, collecting the annual subscriptions from the members and sympathisers of Congress and also enrolling new members, who would give five or ten rupees. Of course, the membership was limited. We would request the people to become members. And at times, there were arguments. We used to assure them: “Why do you fear? It is a national movement. You should be courageous to enroll as members”. Likewise, we made serious efforts to enlist new members. It was not an easy task for the people to come forward and become members.

In 1930s the members of the Congress party were mostly belonging to the middle class, except some wealthy persons like Dr. Mukhtar Ahmed Ansari. Very few working class people like Mohammad Qadris, a tailor, had joined the Congress. The Congress movement had not taken root among the sections of factory workers or farmers or the small shopkeepers at that time in Delhi.

Bonfire of Foreign Cloth in Delhi

In October 1929, there was a bonfire of foreign cloth on the banks of the Yamuna in the presence of Pandit Motilal Nehru and Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya. Many people surrendered their foreign clothes, and indeed there was a very big bonfire on that day.

I was married in 1927. At that time foreign clothes were given to my wife by her parents, especially two valuable suits made of makhmal and zari. All these were given away for the bonfire except the makhmal (velvet) and zari (gold brocade) suit. They were later presented to King Amanullah Khan of Kabul and his wife during their sojourn at Delhi. It was a very big bonfire and it inspired the people of Delhi, arousing the national consciousness for Swadeshi goods and khadi.

The Congress party used to appoint one Dictator to run the movement against the promulgation by the Govt. of repressive Ordinances. I do not remember the exact nature of these Ordinances, but some were mentioned in my case of

1930. When the boycott of foreign cloth gained momentum,

the Delhi Police issued warrants against me. I remember that there were two or three cases against me, for ‘obstructing the Police on duty’, ‘obstructing the public’ and such like things. When I got the information about the issue of warrants against me, I escaped from Chandni Chowk and I went undergound.

In 1930, the most important programme was reading the Congress Pledge for Purna Swaraj (Complete Freedom) in the prominent places of the city. The British Government prohibited it and unleashed its repressive measures. This pledge for Purna Swaraj was in accordance with the Resolution of Lahore Congress, which was presided over by Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru. I was present in this Congress Session on the banks of the river Ravi and also in the massive procession through the Anarkali Bazar and other important streets of Lahore city. That was a historic occasion in the freedom movement of our country, which was an inspiring and heartening moment to every Indian.

In Delhi, the office-bearers and leaders of the District Congress Committee had a secret meeting in Nai Sarak to chalk out a plan of action for reading the Congress Pledge for Purna Swaraj as per the stirring call of national leaders. In the meeting, they were very anxious to have a person who would volunteer to read the Pledge. I was sitting there in the meeting. I was about twenty-five and probably I was the youngest in the group. As Lala Narain Dutt and Maulana Abdulla looked at me with hope and expectation I was inspired and offered spontaneously: “I will read the Pledge.” Probably, they could not get any person who had the courage to go through the ordeal and face the grave risk. There were guns with the Police and there could be firing. When I offered to take the plunge, I was given this responsibility to read the Pledge.

The procession was to start in small batches from different parts of the city and assemble at the Barshah Bullah and then go through the Nai Sarak. I was to lead the procession and I had to read out the pledge for Purna Swaraj.

At that time there were two or three warrants already against me. If the police could spot me, they would arrest me immediately. The Delhi Congress High Command had earlier appointed me as the seventh Dictator of the Congress Non-cooperation movement in Delhi.

I drove a car, neither my own nor that of any Congress sympathiser. I sat in that car with two persons — my Mamaji (maternal uncle) and a personal friend. One sat by my right and the other on my left side. I wore a big overcoat and a turban. My maternal uncle used to wear a turban with a kullah and with a big shamla, which was called mushaddi lungi. So, I wore all that dress and kept a cigarette in my hand which was anathema to me because of a personal dislike, and my background of Sikhism, Arya Samaj and Gandhism. My maternal uncle kept a cigar in his hand. The police could never suspect that we were Congress workers. I went round the procession, giving them instructions discreetly. It took nearly eight hours to reach our destination. When we reached the Clock Tower, the procession was cordoned off. We were not allowed to move any further. I think that there must have been more than 50,000 people in the procession. It was a sight to see. There was excitement, expectation and suspense all around. All of them sat around the Clock Tower, braving the worst from the police. One six feet high platform was arranged for me near the Clock Tower, so that I could climb on that and read out the Pledge of Purna Swaraj.

It was about 4 or 5 o’clock in the evening. I waded through the dense crowd and it took me about half an hour to reach the Clock Tower. When I reached the platform, I pulled off my overcoat and mushaddi turban and gave them to the nearby volunteers. I was in my plain white khadi clothes with achkan and Gandhi cap. I stood on the platform and read loudly the Pledge of Purna Swaraj with great inspiration and defiance. There was much of noise and excitement. Since it was a long pledge, I took time to complete the reading.

The policemen led by the kotwal — his name was Abdul Wahab — ran, dragged me and put me in the waiting police van. I found that hundreds of people were coming in trucks and buses to the jail. Probably hundreds of people were arrested but the police could not mobilise adequate number of vehicles.

I was told that Chand Bibi, a powerful Congress worker, rose up on the same platform and started giving an inspiring speech. She was arrested and brought to the jail. By the night, hundreds of arrested persons were let off. But still, a few hundreds of them were in jail throughout the night.

The next morning, cases of the undertrials were registered in the jail and the cases were disposed off quickly. As far as I remember, all those cases were under the Ordinance 17(1) and a few hundred persons were sentenced to six months’ rigorous imprisonment. But my case went on for a few weeks. I have forgotten the name of the magistrate who tried me; he was an Englishman. By the time my case came up, the Government had promulgated another ordinance. It probably was 17(2) and under that provision the imprisonment could be up to two years in addition to heavy fine. The magistrate asked me whether I would like to defend my case. I replied: “No, not at all. I will never defend my case. There is nothing to defend.” But he said: “There are a number of cases against you.” I replied: “It does not matter.” Then he asked me: “What is your age?” I said: “Twenty-five.” He asked: “Are you married?” I said “Only last year, I was married.”

And to my pleasant surprise, a number of prominent lawyers came to defend my case in the court without any request, as they had decided on their own to defend all such cases. So, they started to defend my case. But, there was not much to defend. I remember only a few details. In the first case the magistrate gave a verdict: “You are sentenced to six months’ rigorous imprisonment.” In the second case he said: “I am so sorry I cannot help you, the sentence has now been raised from six months to two years.” Again he pronounced another verdict: “I sentence you to nine more months’ R.I.” There was also a third case. The magistrate was puzzled what to do. He fined me rupees five hundred or three months’ R.I. But I said: “I can’t pay any fine.” So, he said: “All right.” The police officials intervened. “Sir, there are a few more cases against him.” The magistrate advised: “Is it not sufficient? Can’t you withdraw these cases now?” Accordingly, the police withdrew the additional cases.

I must mention that during the trial period — three or four weeks — my mother used to bring me food at the court. When she saw me in handcuffs she would cry, shout and abuse the police. And she would utter shaaps (curses) — that they may be ruined, that nobody in their families might survive etc. I used to console her, “Why should you abuse these people? It is not their fault.” But she could not help cursing them.