IN BURMESE PRISONS (1) (1925-7)

In the early hours of the morning of October 25th, 1924, I was roused from my sleep as I was wanted by some police officers. The Deputy-Commissioner of Police, Calcutta, on meeting me, said: 'Mr. Bose, I have a very unpleasant duty to perform. I have a warrant for your arrest under Regulation III of 1818.' He then produced another warrant authorising him to search my house for arms, explosives, ammunition, etc. Since no arms, etc., were forthcoming, he had to content himself with taking a pile of papers and correspondence. To avoid public attention, he drove me to prison in his own car but so utterly unexpected was my arrest that known faces, whom I met on my way, never thought that my destination was His Majesty's Prison at Alipore. At the Alipore New Central Jail I was surprised to find that there were others in the same boat with me. The prison authorities did not seem to be happy to receive us. Special arrangements had to be made for segregating us from the rest of the prison population and they had hardly any surplus accommodation. As the day advanced, our numbers began to swell and to our great delight (there is nothing so welcome in prison as companionship) when the time for evening lock-up came, we found that we were eighteen in number.

As I was the Chief Executive Officer of the Calcutta Municipal Corporation at the time, my sudden arrest dislocated the work of the Municipality. The Government therefore gave special orders that till the beginning of December I could attend to my office work in prison and that my Secretary could see me from time to time with office files and documents. In all these interviews a police-officer would be present besides a jail-officer and usually some of the worst police-officers would be detailed to conduct these interviews. I had frequent trouble with them and had to put up with a great deal of unpleasantness and on some occasions I had to rebuke some of them for their impertinence. As a punishment I was given orders of transfer to another prison (Berhampore Jail) in the interior of the province where it would be difficult for people to interview me. Neither at Alipore nor at Berhampore did I have much trouble with the prison-staff. Some of the Government orders were of course humiliating, but for that we did not blame the prison-staff. My trouble with the police-officers, however, continued at Berhampore. Most of my time was spent in study and many were the plans we discussed about the work that we would do when we left prison once again. As the arrests continued from day to day, the prison population began to increase to our great delight. My stay at Berhampore did not last more than two months. On January 25th, 1925, I suddenly received orders of transfer to Calcutta. On my way I learnt to my great surprise that my real destination was Mandalay Prison in Upper Burma. At midnight I reached Calcutta and was taken to the Lalbazar Police-station to spend the night there. The room in the police-station was a dirty hole and thanks to mosquitoes and bugs, it was impossible to have a wink of sleep. The sanitary arrangements were horribly bad and there was no privacy at all. I then realised the truth of what others had said before, namely, that if there is a hell on earth, it is the Lalbazar Police-station. As I lay down, counting the number of beams in the ceiling to while away the time, I heard familiar voices in an adjoining room. So the good Government had sent me companions even there! In the early hours of the morning when it was still dark, a police-officer appeared on the scene. This was Mr. Lowman, Assistant-Inspector General of Police, who, we learned later, was to escort us to Mandalay. The doors of the cells were opened and out came seven familiar faces, all bound for the same destination. A surprise indeed! Under cover of darkness, surrounded by armed guards, we came out of the police-station. Two prison vans were standing in front with their doors invitingly open. In one, our worldly belongings were placed; in the other the living luggage was deposited. With terrific speed, the prison vans moved out of the yard, and merged in the darkness that still hung over the landscape. After a while both the vans drew up and as we alighted, we realised that we were on the river bank. There was a ship standing near the bank, but we were all put into a small motor-boat. For three hours we cruised about on the river and when it was time for the strip to sail, we were quietly taken up into the ship from the farther side. By nine o'clock in the morning, we were sailing down the river towards the sea. In front of our cabins heavily-armed guards were stationed, and great was the curiosity of the other passengers to know who we were and why these elaborate arrangements had been made. When we reached the high seas, the armed guards in front of our cabins were withdrawn and only plain-clothes officers were left to look after us. Our four days' voyage was rather interesting. Mr. Lowman was jovial and communicative and we discussed all possible subjects, including our estimate of Governors, Executive Councillors, public leaders, etc. I even raised the question of the torture of political prisoners by the police. Mr. Lowman at first denied the charge, but at the end he admitted that on some occasions such misdeeds had been committed. On the whole, though I began with a strong prejudice against him, I came to hold a favourable opinion of him and this opinion was confirmed as a result of my subsequent meetings and talks with him. The night before we reached Rangoon, Mr. Lowman had almost a nightmare. He complained in the morning that he could not sleep well as he dreamt that some of the state prisoners had escaped through the port-hole in the evening. From Rangoon to Mandalay it was a long journey of twenty hours. We had a very large police escort and at every stop on our way, they would line up on both sides of the train. From the fuss they made, one would think that we were either high state-officials or wild animals. Till then Mandalay was but a name to us. I had a hazy idea that it was the capital of the last independent kingdom of Burma and the scene of the second Burmese war. But I remembered distinctly that it was the place where Lokamanya Tilak had been imprisoned for nearly six years and later on Lala Lajpat Rai for about a year. It gave us therefore some consolation and pride to feel that we were following in their footsteps. From the station .we drove inside the fort to the prison and we passed on our way the houses in which Lalaji and Sardar Ajit Singh had lived during their internment. Outlined against the morning sky we saw beautiful structures which, we were told, were the palace and state-buildings of the old kingdom. The memory of the good old days that were no more, produced a pang in our hearts and we began to wonder when Burma would once more be able to fly her flag of independence. As our carriages drew up in front of the grey walls of Mandalay prison, our day-dreaming came to an end. The massive gates of the prison-house yawned and we were soon swallowed up. The interior of a Burmese prison is somewhat different from that of an Indian prison and the first few minutes were spent in examining our new surroundings. The first thing we realised was that the jail-buildings were built not of stone nor of brick, but of wooden palisading. The buildings looked exactly like cages in a zoo or in a circus. From the outside and especially at night, the inmates of these buildings appeared almost like animals prowling about behind the bars. Within these structures we were at the mercy of the elements. There was nothing to protect us from the biting cold of winter or the intense heat of summer or the tropical rains in Mandalay. We all began to wonder how we were going to live our life there. But there was no help and we had to make the best of a bad situation. In the yard adjoining ours, so we were told, Lokamanya Tilak had spent about six years of his life. Among the prison-staff we found many men who had been there when Lokamanya Tilak was a prisoner. From them and later on from the Inspector-General of Prisons himself, we heard interesting anecdotes of him and how he spent his days in prison. Not less interesting for us than the anecdotes were the lemon-trees which he had planted with his own hands. From one of the state prisoners, Mr. Jibon Lai Chatterji, who had preceded us, we took our first lessons in the Burmese language. I was not there long before I developed a strong liking for the Burmese people. There is something in them which one cannot help liking. They are exceedingly warm-hearted, frank and jovial in their temperament. They are of course quick-tempered and are sometimes liable to lose their self-control when under the influence of temper. But that did not appear to me as a very serious shortcoming. What struck me greatly was the innate artistic sense which every Burman has. If they have any faults, it is their extreme naivete and absence of all feeling against foreigners. In fact, I was told later that for a Burmese woman, a foreigner has greater attraction than a member of her own community.

Our Superintendent, Captain (later on, Major) Smith, was exceedingly nice in his dealings with us and there was never any misunderstanding between us. Even when we had to fight the Government or go on hunger-strike, our friendly relations were not disturbed. With the Chief Jailor we had frequent trouble and we would receive constant pin-pricks from him. He would justify himself by saying that he had to act under orders, but till the end I was not able to find out who was really responsible for these pin-pricks. However, after some time, when the subordinate staff realised that if we were given trouble we could also make trouble, they settled down to a friendly alliance with us. The head of the Prison Department was Lieut.-Col. Tarapore, a Parsi gentleman, a very tactful, intelligent and well-meaning official. Though state-prisoners in Mandalay or in other prisons of Burma had occasional misunderstandings with him, I must admit and that with great pleasure, that on the whole he endeavoured to treat us well. His difficulty was that in the first place, the Bengal Government who were ultimately responsible for us, were exceedingly vindictive. Secondly, the Government of India, the highest authority in the land, were too far away and too indifferent. Thirdly, the Burma Government, though not vindictive towards us, did not want to do anything on their own responsibility. Lieut. -Col. Tarapore was a great enthusiast of prison-reform and at his instance the Burma Government invited Mr. Patterson, one of His Majesty's Prison Commissioners in England, to visit Burma and advise them on prison-reform there. But with all his enthusiasm Lieut.-Col. Tarapore could not achieve much because of his reactionary environment. I remember that a very important piece of reform which he had once attempted had to be given up because of opposition in other quarters. To the ordinary Burman, accustomed to smoking tobacco from a very early age, tobacco is more important than food. As tobacco was banned in Burmese prisons, the prisoners would commit innumerable jail-offences in trying to smuggle it from outside. The Inspector-General of Prisons rightly thought that if tobacco were given to the prisoners in a legal way, there would be a drop in the number of prison-offences and the illegal traffic would also be stopped to a large extent. He, therefore, introduced a rule that as a reward for good behaviour prisoners would be given a certain quantity of tobacco every day. Though the reform was not sufficiently far-reaching, it was an improvement on the existing state of things. The experiment was tried for a year but at the end of that period, most of the Prison Superintendents reported against the experiment and the Finance Department also raised difficulty about funds. The reform had consequently to be dropped. Towards the end of our stay in Burma, another important reform was attempted by him. Prisoners were taken out of prison and employed for road-making. They were accommodated in camps, were allowed more freedom than in prison and were also given a certain allowance in addition to their food. I do not know what the ultimate result of the experiment was, but about the time that I left Burma, difficulty was being experienced in finding suitable officers for running these camps. In our talks with him, the Inspector-General used to complain that he did not have officials possessing the necessary education and character who could forget their prison-environment and treat the prisoners as human beings.

From time to time we would receive visits from many interesting people including officials. From the Home Member down to the petty magistrate no one would ignore us, since Indian state prisoners were to them interesting specimens of humanity. Among the visitors was Mr. Patterson, a Prison Commissioner from England, who greeted us as 'eight of the most dangerous men in India.' A regular visitor was Mr. Brown, the Deputy-Commissioner (i.e. District Officer) of Mandalay. Whatever may have been his attitude towards the people of Mandalay, with the state prisoners his dealings were those of a straightforward gentleman. He was a cultured man and we enjoyed our discussions with him. He was, moreover, helpful to us in supplying literature and in mediating, whenever we fell out with the prison officials. Our relations with the prison officials suddenly became strained, when Captain Smith went on leave. He was succeeded by Major Findlay. While Captain Smith had a genial temperament, Major Findlay had a rough exterior and a rather saturnine temperament. We soon fell out with Major Findlay over trifling matters and this led to hunger-strike. Through Mr. Brown's mediation, the misunderstanding was however cleared up. Thereafter, when we came to know one another more intimately, I discovered that he was an exceedingly nice and straightforward man. Another official who acted as Superintendent for a time was Major Sheppard, with whom there was constant friction, but since he did not stay long, matters did not reach a crisis.

Ours was not the first batch of state prisoners to be deported to Burma. About a year before we arrived, another batch had been sent across there. When the first batch came they were not confined in the same prison, but were transferred in twos to different prisons in Burma. They had a very hard time and as they were separated, they could not put up a joint fight for improving their conditions. During this period two of the state prisoners, Mr. Jibon Lai Chatterji and Mr. Bhupendra Kumar Dutt, sent a representation to the then Secretary of State for India, Lord Olivier, severely criticising the conduct of the Political Branch of the Bengal Police, called in India the Intelligence Branch. The main thesis was that agent-provocateurs were employed by the police for entrapping innocent but over-enthusiastic young men and that the bogey of a revolutionary conspiracy was deliberately raised by the Intelligence Branch because they could thereby draw extra allowances, like 'danger allowance,' and could also have at their disposal large sums of money for employing informers. Certain facts and figures were given by way of substantiating this charge. This letter somehow found its way to the Indian Press and after its publication it was quoted by the Swarajist leader, Pandit Motilal Nehru, in a speech in the Assembly, attacking the policy of imprisoning people without trial. The publication of the letter so annoyed the Government that severe restrictions were imposed on the state prisoners in Burma. After some time the temper of the Government cooled down and the state prisoners were allowed then to come together in one prison. An exception was however made in the case of Mr. Bhupendra Kumar Dutt, whom the Government wanted to punish for the publication of the letter.

In prison we were able to meet from time to time Burman political prisoners from whom we learned a lot about the intricacies of Burma politics. Among those whom we met there were some priests (called in Burma 'hpongyis'). These priests, or hpongyis, whom I met in prisons of Burma, are some of the finest specimens of humanity I have ever met. Burma is a land where there is no caste and no class. It is probably the most classless country outside Russia. Buddhism there is a living religion and the priests who live that religion are held in high esteem. For centuries, they have been imparting free elementary education to men and women, with the result that in the matter of literacy, Burma today is far ahead of India. Since the British annexation, the hpongyis alone have kept up the flame of dying nationalism, since they were never reconciled to British domination or to British culture. Under their leadership for many a year, guerilla warfare was carried on. Owing to their consistent opposition to the foreign Government, they are intensely hated by all Britishers, official and non-official. Strangely enough, though they are anti-British, they are nevertheless pro-Indian and they are strongly opposed to separation from India. Apart from the cultural affinity they have with India, they feel that when they are separated from India, it will be more difficult for them to fight Great Britain for their political freedom. Among the mass of the Burmese people the influence of the priests is very strong. The English-educated Burmans are politically a divided commuaity. The majority are politically opposed to the priests and are anti-Indian and pro-British. (2) A minority among them is however allied politically with the priests. The English-educated Burmans generally think that separation from India will improve their lot, though the fact remains that it is the Britishers who have the best of everything in the country and not the Indians. The 'anglicised' Burmans generally have no idea or intention of fighting for their freedom and they think that once the Indians are eliminated from Burma, everything will be all right for them. The hpongyis or priests, on the contrary, are politically-minded and they follow the policy and tactics of Indian National Congress. When I was in Burma, the uncrowned king of the Burmans was Rev. U. Ottama, a priest. (3) The impression that I had during my stay there was that the priests had the largest following in the country. They had boycotted the Burma Legislature since 1920 and they did not have their representative there. That led the Government to think that the Burmans really wanted separation from India, as the English-educated Burmans generally were saying. The recent elections have shown, however, that the people are against separation. The significance of the last elections will be understood better when it is remembered that they were fought on the basis of the old electoral roll and that the request of the anti-separationist party for a revision of the electoral roll prior to the elections, was turned down. Among the separationists (the English-educated Burmans) as also among the anti-separationists, it is very difficult to have a united party, because personal considerations play an important role in Burma. The priests who are anti-separationists are on the whole, a compact party. Among the English-educated Burmans, when I was in Burma, there were several parties, the most important of them being the Twenty-One Party (4)— so called because twenty-one persons joined together and formed the party. The Nationalist Party in Burma is called the G.C.B.A. — that is, the General Council of Burmese Association and there are as many G.C.B.A.'s as there are parties. Many people wonder today, why Britain is so keen on separating Burma from India — but if one knew Burma, there would be no reason to wonder. Many Britishers think that even if India be a lost Dominion, it is still desirable to try and keep Burma. Burma is so thinly populated, is so rich in minerals and in certain parts has such a pleasing climate that it would be fit for colonisation by Britishers. Besides, Burma is the gateway of the Far East and has an important strategic position.

Notes

1. The writer has been in custody eight times but he has tried to chronicle the events of only one such experience, since it is more interesting than the others.
2. The New Constitution, outlined by the Joint Parliamentary Committee on the basis of separation from India, is likely to prove disappointing to English-educated Burmans and may bring about a change in their general attitude.
3. Rev. U. Ottama is now an exile living in Calcutta and is not allowed to return to Burma. His health is completely shattered as a result of repeated incarceration. When I was in Burma an interesting incident took place. Rev. U. Ottama was in prison and a rumour got afloat that he had been secretly transported to a prison in India. In the Burma Legislative Council, questions were put on this point. The Home Member, himself a Burman, felt annoyed at the questions and replied that U. Ottama was one of ten thousand criminals in his jails and he could not be expected to know where he was confined at the time. At this insulting reference to U. Ottama, all the non-official members of the Legislative Council walked out as a protest. They resolved to dissolve their separate parties and started a united party—called the People's Party.
4. The policy of the Twenty-One Party was to work the Constitution, while that of the G.C.B.A. was to boycott it.
5. Mrs. Naidu was the second woman to be elected President of the Congress, the first being Mrs. Besant who presided over the Calcutta Congress, in 1917. A distinguished poetess, she had been closely associated with the Mahatma in the non-co-operation movement since 1920. She continues till today as one of his closest adherents and has been a member of the Congress Working Committee with hardly any break.
6. Pandit Malaviya, though a veteran Congressman and an ex-President of the Congress, did not accept the Swarajist policy. During the period 1923-26, he was a member of the Assembly but did not belong to the Swaraj Party. After the general election of 1926 he continued as an Independent. The change in the politics of Lala Lajpat Rai was due to the Hindu-Moslem tension in the Punjab and the influeace of the Hindu Mahasabha.
7. The position of the Advocate-General of Madras would correspond to the position of the Solicitor-General in England.
8. As explained in Section III of the Introduction, the Arya Samaj is a reformist sect of the Hindus with a large following in Upper India.
9. It is generally believed that the estrangement between the Ali brothers and the Mahatma took place over the Hindu-Moslem riots at Kohat in North West Frontier Province. In this dispute the AH brothers took the side of the Moslems and complained that the Mahatma had taken the side of the Hindus.
10. The Bill was first ruled out of order by the Assembly President, Mr. V. J. Patel, whereafter it was introduced again in an altered form. The Congress Party succeeded in throwing out the section relating to the management of the Bank, whereupon the Bill was withdrawn by Sir Basil Blackett.