Some Reminiscences of Revolutionary Activity and Yoga by A.B. Purani

Dear Friends,

Ambalal Balkrishna Purani (26.5.1894—11.12.1965) was a Gujarati revolutionary who met Sri Aurobindo in 1907. A graduate from St. Xavier’s College (Mumbai) with Honours in Physics and Chemistry, he established a chain of gymnasiums in various parts of Gujarat. He went to Pondicherry in December 1918 to meet Sri Aurobindo who assured him that India’s freedom was imminent. He visited Pondicherry again in 1921 and joined Sri Aurobindo’s household as an inmate in 1923. Posterity would always remain grateful to him for keeping detailed notes of the ‘Evening Talks’ Sri Aurobindo had with His disciples. His duties in the Ashram included answering correspondence arriving from Gujarat, preparing hot water for the Mother’s bath at 2 a.m. and meeting aspirants who were keen to know about the Integral Yoga. He became Sri Aurobindo’s personal attendant when the latter met with an accident in November 1938. After Sri Aurobindo’s mahasamadhi, he took some classes in the Ashram School. He visited U.S.A., U.K., Africa and Japan to preach the message of Sri Aurobindo. A prolific writer who wrote in English and Gujarati, his published works include Evening Talks with Sri Aurobindo, The Life of Sri Aurobindo, Sri Aurobindo in England, Savitri: An Approach and a Study, On Art: Addresses and Writings, Sri Aurobindo: Addresses on His Life and Teachings, Sri Aurobindo’s Vedic Glossary, Sri Aurobindo’s Life Divine, Studies in Vedic Interpretation, Sri Aurobindo: Some Aspects of His Vision and Lectures on Savitri.

We are happy to publish on the website of Overman Foundation an incomplete autobiographical account of A.B. Purani entitled Some Reminiscences of Revolutionary Activity and Yoga.

With warm regards,

Anurag Banerjee

Founder,

Overman Foundation.

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Some Reminiscences of Revolutionary Activity and Yoga by A.B. Purani

Some friends asked me to write my reminiscences. I represented to them why I was averse to it: generally it is an attempt to interpret the past in the light of the present. In my opinion it should rather be reliving the past. I grant there are merits in both ways of writing, for even when one tries to be objective, it is the result of his present or past subjectivity. Almost in-variably the element of autobiography plays a part.

The answer of some friends was that they were not asking me because of their interest in my biography; they wanted to have, if possible, some glimpses of the early Ashram life and also of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother.

I undertake the task in order to satisfy their desire as far as I am capable of doing it. I beg to be excused for the personal element which is inextricably bound with such writing. I would request the reader not to treat this even as part of my political autobiography. It is the events that I want to recount and some glimpses of those days. That is the main purpose.

When Sri Aurobindo came to Baroda after attending the Surat Congress in [December] 1907, my elder brother, Chhotubhai B. Purani, met him in Sjt. Khasirao Jadhav’s house and asked for guidance for starting revolutionary work in Gujarat. Sri Aurobindo gave a plan, drawing a sketch with notes in pencil on a foolscap paper. It had three concentric circles—the first, the smallest ring, was formed of the few members who would act as the nucleus, the second larger ring was composed of persons and activities that could provide the recruiting ground, and the third, the largest circle, would be the general public whose sympathy and support must be enlisted for the cause. The liaison among them was to be provided by someone from the inmost group.

We preserved this paper for some time but when the police became suspicious, we buried it underground in a tin and painted the tin with tar to prevent rusting. But it was of no avail. Some years later, when we opened the pit, it was completely worm-eaten.

During Sri Aurobindo’s sojourn in Baroda, Barin came two or three times to our house on the Raj Mahal Road, Kumedan Falia, to see my brother. They used to go out together for a walk on the Baroda-Vishwamitri rail-track. I learnt afterwards from my brother that Barin explained to him the organisation of the revolutionary activity in Bengal and on the last day he asked my brother to promise that he would take up the same type of work in Gujarat. He also gave the formula for preparing bombs. My brother told him that work in Gujarat would have to be done under different conditions. He could not promise that it would take the same form. But he promised to prepare at least ten men who would be ready to die for the country. This promise he more than fulfilled. After Barin’s departure my brother received two or three post-cards signed ‘Das Gupta’ evidently from Barin under an assumed name. Thus a link was established between Gujarat and Bengal.

After Sri Aurobindo left Baroda, our small group became very active. To begin with, the work was in three spheres: 1) Education on national lines; 2) Spread of physical culture; and 3) Uplift of villages by co-operative movement in the cotton-growing districts of Broach and Ankleshwar.

As a result of our activity from 1909 to 1914 a group came into existence which we called ‘Our Mandal’ and outsiders knew it as the ‘Purani-Mandal’. It was in many ways a unique organisation. It had no constitution, no written rules and no treasurer, as there was no money! It was a sort of natural union of persons inspired by an ideal whose mode of working was freedom of thought and expression for the members. Its strength lay in honesty of purpose, sincerity, and the spirit of sacrifice for the cause of Indian Independence. Absence of rules did not lead to lack of efficient work or discipline. The volunteers who took up the work were anxious not to take any remuneration for it as far as they could and when obliged to take it, they tried to take the minimum. It had no “ism”, and was not supported by any great personality.

*

My elder brother had lent his services to the D. A. V. College, Lahore from Baroda State after 1908-09. But in 1914, the situation in the country became acute [That is, disturbed due to outbreak of the First World War] and he returned to Baroda, resigned his post, and started the Broach Education Society, which I also joined. The course of studies in this Education Society started from the infant class and ended in the Matric class of the High School. Later, after 1918, we had also the first year College class. C. B. Purani was the first to introduce the Montessori method in Gujarat and he translated a work on the same subject. The school staff prepared text-books for teaching in our schools; many extra-curricular activities— including professions like weaving and carpentry—were introduced.

When there was a great demand for nationalising education, the Gujarat Vidyapith was started at Ahmedabad; I was a member of the original committee set up for the purpose. When there was a cry for affiliation of our Broach Institute to the Vidyapith, a reference was made to all the guardians of the students and an over-whelming majority voted against it. My brother and others lost interest in the work. He turned to political work though it was not to his taste. I was reading the Arya since its commencement in 1914 August. My brother knew my interest in the Gita and in Yoga. I tried to interest him in Sri Aurobindo the Yogi, but he steadily refused to accept him as such. He said: “My Guru is Sri Aurobindo, the patriot and the politician. I follow him alone.” He remained one of Sri Aurobindo’s true political disciples to the end of his life.

*

I took up the physical culture part of our programme. Yashwantrai Joshi took up the village organisation work with a few helpmates. All of us, except my brother, were students when the plan was conceived, it must be remembered. I trained myself in all the arts and practices of physical culture and starting as a student I continued the work after I graduated from St. Xavier’s, Bombay. The chain of our vyayam mandirs (gymnasiums) spread from Surat in the south, to Mehsana in the north of Gujarat, including Broach, Baroda, Nadiad, Ahmedabad, Anand and other places. This net was intended to serve as the recruiting ground and to support and ultimately to work as the basis for revolutionary activity.

Our gymnasium was not merely an institution, it was rather a movement; going to the gymnasium was not merely for physical exercise but for the country. The gymnasiums we started did change the course of the lives of many young men and gave direction to many others. Some of the best workers in the subsequent political movement in Gujarat came from those who had their training in these gymnasiums.

Over and above physical exercise, there was an effort to prepare young men temperamentally to face dangers, to be adventurous, to accustom themselves to hard-ships. During our “Hill Fights” our party divided itself in two groups and actually carried out fighting. Organising tours for one or two weeks during vacations was part of the physical culture programme in all gymnasiums. These tours were planned in advance in every detail—things necessary were listed and made ready.

Tours on foot too were organised—the group walked about 20 to 25 miles per day—of course, this was only for the middle age-group, all 15 or above 15 years. These walking tours also included reading maps, crossing streams, cooking, keeping watch, etc. They gave the students a knowledge of the countryside, of its roads, places of safety, etc. All these activities instilled in many young men the spirit of service and sacrifice for Mother India and also taught them to organise themselves for action when needed.

The description of one such tour is worth recording. It was during the First World War, probably in 1915, that we started from Baroda via lake Ajwa, which supplies water to the city of Baroda, to reach Mt. Pavagadh. This was a very unusual route to Pavagadh in those days. It was part of the training for revolutionary work, for, we had to learn the use of the pedometer, of maps and charts, telescope and binoculars. We had to cook our food on the way, camp and pitch tents and guard them at night.

The most impressive sight that met us when we reached Ajwa was the golden reflection of Mt. Pavagadh in the still waters of the lake. The afternoon sun had gilded the grass on the mountain in gold and we were delighted to see its double in the water.

As we went further the terrain became more wild, hardly any roads were visible. The villagers we met on the way always guided us in the wrong direction! I must also confess that our unusual dress and the arms we carried could not have inspired sympathy in the villagers. The result was that we went on from place to place without reaching our first halt. At last we gave up asking the villagers and resorted to making our way by reading the map. At the end of the day when we reached the village the pedometer had registered 50 miles!

But a more surprising experience was in store for us at the village. As soon as we entered, people closed their doors—shops not excepted—and they peered from behind the cracks and holes in the windows. We went to the little pond by the side of which there was a temple and a verandah around it. We put our bags and baggage on the verandah and decided to prepare khichadi. We knocked at a shop; but the shopkeeper would not open the door. We could not understand this behaviour at first. Later, after their attitude changed, we found that they had closed their doors out of fear, thinking that we were out to recruit soldiers by force for the World War! We had a few khakhi half-pants as part of our dress and our arms—swords, lances, dharias [scythes]—had added a sinister colour to their fear. When they found out that we were as good men as they, they confided that they were also afraid that we might be robbers come to loot the village. Here was an example of the characteristic lack of unity and co-operation among our people. Some of the villagers even tried to accuse us for our dress and equipment, completely ignoring that they had behaved as cowards, —in the village each was for himself only!

We bought some rice and dal and cooked khichadi and everything ended in a good spirit. It is true however, that some recruiting in the villages was done by unscrupulous agents who lured simple villagers with false promises and then forced them to join the labour corps.

*

An incident during this period, when we were preparing for the revolutionary work, is worth recording.

The first gymnasium we started at Baroda in 1909 was in the heart of the city. From the College hostel which was outside the city proper, I used to go there every afternoon at about 4.30. The main workers did not leave the gymnasium before 8 p.m. One day on my way to the gymnasium, while crossing the Vishwamitri bridge, I passed a group of about twenty people looking down at something below on the river bed. I too looked down and saw a cow sinking in the soft mud of the narrow bed. The group was talking about it and sympathising with the cow—from the bridge. In about two minutes I decided to go down to do something to take the cow out. A collegian friend was there who also followed me. I had a piece of cloth and using it like a rope I wanted to extricate the cow. But before we could do anything, by our very presence perhaps, the cow pulled herself out of the mud,—it did not take more than five minutes! This has always been a characteristic example of our people’s mentality to me: we Indians have ideas—sometimes more than we should have, and theories and philosophies—tons of them—but hardly an ounce of practice or timely action.

In 1916-17 when I was working at Nadiad for establishing a gymnasium, I received a post-card from Mahatma Gandhi—only four lines, asking me to find time to see him at the Ashram that he was trying to establish at Sabarmati. He had heard about the ‘Purani Mandal’ and wanted a vyayam mandir to be started in his Ashram. I went and met him. He wanted to ascertain whether we believed in non-violence. I told him frankly that we did not believe in non-violence as a religion or creed. Man has a right to risk his life in fighting for his freedom if every other means fails. But I assured him that as long as we subscribe to non-violence as a policy we will stick to it. With this understanding I sent him one of our workers—Dwarkanath Harkare of Baroda—who was willing to work at Ahmedabad. I used to go to Ahmedabad to prepare the ground for starting a gymnasium in the city and also supervise the work at the Satyagraha Ashram.

Vinoba Bhave had recently joined the Ashram and his room was just on the bank of the river Sabarmati. He got interested in physical culture and I remember teaching him lakadi-patta (called fari-gatka in the north) which he learnt well. Per-haps, it may be a pleasant surprise to some to know that the ardent votary of non-violence learnt the art of offence and defence also.

Sometimes, when the Mahatma was free—and in those early days he was more free than in later days—myself, Dr. Chandulal Desai and Swami Adwaitanand had discussions with him on Incarnation, the Gita, Non-violence etc. I think at the end of such discussions both sides remained firm in their respective positions.

*

The difference of ideal between the various political leaders at that time was brought home to me when I had a talk with Lokamanya Tilak at Surat. There was a great agitation for Home Rule at that point and members were being enrolled with a pledge to secure it ‘with peaceful and legitimate means’. When our group was approached we did not join it on the ground that we did not approve of the limitation of ‘peaceful and legitimate means’. We assured the Congress that we would co-operate with it and do everything without signing the prescribed form. Tilak came to know about it and said, “Why do you hesitate to join the Home Rule League and sign the form? When you want to carry out revolution you say that you have changed your mind. That is all.” Tilak, certainly, was a politician!

*

Of the many tours on foot in which I took part, my impression of the Abu tour is worth recording. About 42 of us went from Ahmedabad to Abu-road. It was decided that about eight to ten hardy grown-up boys would try to climb to the top of Mt. Abu by a short but unusual and narrow footpath with me, while the rest of the company would walk up by the ordinary wide road which was much longer. The shortcut had no water and was steep, while the long road was easy, and had facilities. But the youngsters protested at night and did not want to miss the thrill of the adventure. So at last it was decided that all go by the shorter way.

Early next morning the march began and at the last well everyone took his fill of water and all water-cans were filled up. I remained at the tail-end to see that no one was lost on the path which was unknown to all of us. We continued walking until 10 or 10.30 when I felt that the party was going on the wrong track. All water-cans were empty by that time. It was the month of June and we were on the borders of Rajputana. The temperature on Abu was unbearably hot, very often reaching 110° F. I stopped the company and decided to send all back to the main road from where we had diverged. I could see the road through the telescope and guided the members along the rough and rocky course of a stream which had completely dried up. Follow-ing my signals the party at last reached a place on the main road where there was a well. But during the interval every one felt such acute pangs of thirst that it had be-come an unforgettable experience to all. Some boys in the company could not swallow sugar, others could not take lime or onion for want of salivation in the mouth. Everyone had taken such an overdose of water that some of them vomited. The detailed description of this adventure may be found in the hand-written monthly magazine of our Ahmedabad branch or when some participant like Pujalal writes about it.

Everyone threw down their packs in the valley and raced to the main road. I remained alone on the hill and tried to find the way to the top. But after about half an hour gave up as I was not sure of the way and was anxious about the party. The heat dried up almost all the water from the system and the skin became, after sometime, full of eruptions. A shepherd who met me gave me some water to drink from his bag, but that was no solution. Some of the captains after reaching the road and well, came in search of me fearing I might have become unconscious. But I answered their whistle and we all came out safe.

There was a sequel to this. Everyone had left everything in the valley. So, early next morning a strong party was sent to recover all that was abandoned and as no time was lost, the party recovered literally everything, including blankets, foodstuff, sweets and postcards.

*

One day in 1914 I saw a notice in the Bombay Chronicle declaring that Sri Aurobindo was bringing out a monthly, the Arya, on August 15th and it called for subscribers. I immediately sent my name and I believe I was the 24th or 25th subscriber to it. I ordered it to an address outside the College hostel [St. Xavier’s, Bombay] in order to avoid suspicion. [Sri Aurobindo was then considered an absconder from British Justice and any communication or contact with him automatically invited the suspicions of the British Indian police.] I began to read it in my hostel at night because being very active during daytime I could not spare time then. So, I kept it for the night, getting up at midnight, reading it up to 2 a.m. in the quiet hours. Then I found that I was able to understand it.

*

All these incidents I have recounted are to show how all our activities had their origin in the inspiration which Sri Aurobindo had given to us. It was after these preparations lasting for eleven years that I came to Pondicherry to seek his assent to the active execution of the plan which he had given.

(Incomplete typescript with several changes and corrections made by the author)