Savarkar’s Constitution for India

Posted on by Anurupa

“The living owe it to those who no longer can speak to tell their story for them.”

Czestaw Mitosz, The Issa Valley: A Novel

Anti-propagandists and detractors have been writing so fast and furiously saying that Savarkar was “communal,” anti-Muslim, and what not that this erroneous, unjust accusation has come to be an accepted fact.

Anyone who will take the trouble to read Savarkar’s words in their original form will see the truth for themselves.

I am presenting below the main points of Savarkar’s guideline for India’s proposed Constitution. You can judge for yourself how very democratic his ideas were. He truly believed in equal rights for all.

Savarkar’s Proposed Guidelines for the

National Constitution of Hindustan

(A) Hindustan from the Indus to the Seas will and must remain as an organic nation and integral centralized state.

(B) The residuary powers shall be vested in the Central Government.

(C) All citizens shall have equal rights and obligations irrespective of caste or creed, race or religion—provided they avow and owe an exclusive and devoted allegiance to the Hindustani State.

(D) The fundamental rights of conscience, of worship, of association etc. will be enjoyed by all citizens alike; whatever restrictions will be imposed on them in the interest of the public peace and order or national emergency will not be based on any religious or racial considerations alone but on common national ground.

(E) “One man, one vote” will be the general rule irrespective of creed, caste, race, or religion.

(F) Representation in the Legislature etc. shall be in proportion to the population of the majority and minorities.

(G) Services shall go by merit alone.

(H) All minorities shall be given effective safeguards to protect their language, religion, culture etc. but none of them shall be allowed to create “a state within a state” or to encroach upon the legitimate rights of the majority.

(I) All minorities may have separate schools to train their children in their own tongue, religion, or culture, and can receive government help also for these, but always in proportion to the taxes they pay into the common exchequer.

(J) In case the constitution is not based on joint electorates and on the unalloyed national principle of one man one vote but is based on the communal basis, then those minorities who wish to have separate electorates or reserve seats will be allowed to have them, but always in proportion to their population and provided that it does not deprive the majority also of an equal right in proportion to its population too.

Mr. J. D. Joglekar has given an interesting “Vignette” in his Veer Savarkar: Father of Hindu Nationalism:

“I started reading books on nationalism in 1942. In the next four years I read considerable literature on that subject. I also read Savarkar’s Hindutva a few times. Therein he has written, “It may be that at some future time the word ‘Hindu’ may come to indicate a citizen of Hindustan and nothing else.’ This clearly shows that Savarkar was ready to include Muslims and Christians in the family of the Hindus. In his concept of nationalism, loyalty to land and secularism had primacy.

In 1946, Savarkar was staying in a hotel in Poona for some much needed rest and change. I met him there. While discussing the above point I said to him, ‘I do not understand why Hindu Sanghatanists are dubbed communalists?’

‘I write for people. I cannot read for them. If my reading would have helped them to understand what I say, I would have done that,’ he said.”

Anurupa

Treasured Memories . . .

Posted on by Anurupa

“When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.”

- Unknown

I met Dr. Godbole only one more time, for he lived in Mumbai, and I in the U.S. But we communicated regularly by e-mail. He was not in favor of phone calls or “chat,” either. But once in a while when I saw him in my contacts, I couldn’t resist sending him a “hi,” though he never replied!

Dr. Godbole was most certainly a man of few—very, very few—words. But quality and not quantity in what is said tells you that someone cares.

In 2009 the Swine flu was rampant. I was going to Pune. With just a one meeting acquaintance he called me, greatly concerned, and tried to talk me out of going there. He also called to let me know when the movie “Savarkar” was playing on TV. I thought it was so sweet and caring of him.

When I got back to the U.S. we continued to correspond via email. Soon we were comfortable enough for him to give me health tips and weight-loss tips. For a while, though, that went along the lines of the segment mentioned in the last post!

He told me I must walk everywhere (for errands etc.) and use the steps instead of the elevator. Oh dear, I thought to myself. Really, I almost never come across any staircases here. Everywhere I go (and they are not too many places) is on the ground level. And I could, possibly, see myself walking to the grocery store, but who would carry all the groceries on the way back? So that wasn’t going to work.

But, I told him brightly, I shall dance for exercise. I don’t know what he thought of that, but he said it was important that I wear shoes. It was another “oh dear” moment. First thing I do when I begin dancing is to kick off my shoes. The feeling that he was going to think I was an odd one was creeping up on me again.

His next advice threw me right off my stride! “Don’t,” he wrote, “start smoking and drinking in excess!”

Eek! I thought, is that what he thinks of me?!! I laugh to myself when I remember this.

I read my novel over and over and over in the editing phase. And every time I read it I had bitter-sweet moments when I came across the memories of Dr. Godbole captured in it. There were so many scenes where I had reached out to him for help. Savarkar’s conversation with the political prisoners getting amnesty in the Cellular Jail could never have been written had he not given me the historical background and a perspective of the reasoning Savarkar had used. Unfortunately, Savarkar himself has not given the details, so I had really been in a bind. When I was about to write the scene of Keshu’s concussion, I came up with a blank. How were the hospitals in 1921? How did they treat the patients? How were the nurses? Again it was Dr. Godbole who helped me out. Even if I didn’t actually use what I learned in the writing of the scene, it was essential for me to picture the scene in its totality.

When the whole of the Part II was written, I was so emotional that I couldn’t judge it. Dr. Godbole was not doing well at the time. But when I called him and told him of my worries, he asked me to send it over and he would check it for me.

And he did.

It must have been very, very taxing for him. I truly appreciated what he did for me. He gave a very detailed feedback and I was able to polish my novel with it. One point he made was very funny:

I am saying everywhere that I have written true incidents, and have really tried to be authentic. But in some incidents I have given myself some freedom. One such scene was Savarkar and the kids in Savarkar Sadan. While it is true that Savarkar did spend time with his family in the garden, the actual scene is from my imagination. I really enjoyed writing that scene. It was cute, I thought. I threw in a mango tree (using my grandmother’s garden as inspiration.)

Well, in Dr. Godbole’s comments he wrote, “Did Savarkar Sadan have a mango tree?” He really did want me to be authentic!!

I hadn’t any way of knowing what trees were planted there (though I knew from Vishwasrao’s writings there were fruit trees.) Perhaps a mango tree was too much, I thought. So I have now changed it to a peru tree—much easier for a little boy to climb.

Dr. Godbole was not very effusive in his compliments. Sometimes he said “very good,” often though it was just “quite good.” But that was worth so much more to me than fulsome flattery from others. And there are two things he has said to me which are my treasured memories.

He once wrote to me, quite early on, “You belong to the Savarkar family.” I was so very touched. I felt cloaked in a warm envelop of caring. Since my childhood, I have never felt I belonged anywhere—like the “dhobi ka kutta” I always felt “na ghar ka na ghat ka”—always the odd one out. I cried all day that day.

And once he wrote to me, “Oh, so that’s what makes you so unusual.” I really, really treasure that one too. No one had ever said that to me (and only one other, my doctor, since.) I have, of course, had people tell me I am “different,” and “not normal.” No one has, quite, said I am “odd” or “peculiar,” but they have looked it. And so many look at me as if I am an alien being from another planet!

So you see why I hug that one to myself so dearly!

It was Dr. Godbole who always encouraged me to keep writing and working on my novel. In 2010, I went through a very rough patch supporting a friend through her crisis. It was very difficult to focus on the novel then. I turned more and more to translating Savarkar’s poems and doing research for him. Dr. Godbole was the only one who kept me on my toes re the novel through that time.

In 2010 January (23^rd or 24^th, I think) something in my correspondence with Dr. Godbole touched my nerve. I reacted like a wounded animal—very upset. Dr. Godbole took the trouble to comfort me and console me. He didn’t get upset with me, nor did he say or feel why I was being such a so-and-so. It was a week before he wrote to me next. It was a single-liner saying: he had had a serious operation; he had not told me as he knew I would be upset, but he was now back home recuperating.

I had to read that many times before it sunk in. I had been giving him a headache almost up to the time he went into surgery . . . ! He had been giving me solace and comfort at just a grave juncture in his life, and he was worried about bothering me. I cannot even begin to describe all that I felt then, so I won’t try.

But you do see what a special person he was?

I have come across a Hebrew proverb:

“Say not in grief ‘he is no more,’ but live in thankfulness that he was.”

And I do indeed try to follow that, for I am certainly most thankful that my path did cross that of Dr. Godbole’s. He holds a very special place in my heart.

Anurupa

I miss you, Dr. Godbole . . .

Posted on by Anurupa

“How do I deal with my grief, immeasurable beyond belief?”

- Unknown

Sometimes in our lives—if we are lucky enough—we meet someone special who just by being themselves, just by being there, however fleetingly, enrich our lives.

For me that special someone was Dr. Arvind Godbole.

November 1, 2011, was the very dark day when Dr. Godbole passed away. It wasn’t totally unexpected; I had been dreading that news for months. And yet I wasn’t prepared to hear it—one never is.

“No . . .!” my brain had screeched then and is perhaps still screeching it. But there is none more relentless than death. Sometimes I remember him with a smile or a laugh, other times tears roll down my cheeks before I know it . . .

“If tears could build a stairway

And memories a lane,
I’d walk right up to Heaven

And bring you home again.”

Last year I wanted to pour my heart out and write just what he meant to me and couldn’t. It was too painful. But today I can walk down that memory lane—yes, most definitely today I can do it.

It was in August of 2009 that I met Dr. Godbole for the first time. The plan to meet was made months before, but still I had been dithering nervously and not making the appointment. I just so hate making phone calls, especially to people I don’t know! Or perhaps I was nervous because he had been Savarkar’s physician? Anyway, at this point Shreerang (Dr. Godbole’s son whom I have mentioned in previous posts and to whom my novel is dedicated) lost patience with me. With his “stop indulging in irrational fears” ringing in my years, I found myself outside Dr. Godbole’s door on a Sunday morning at 9 a.m. Out here in the U.S. one wouldn’t dream of disturbing anyone at that hour!

I took to Dr. Godbole right away, at first sight. He had this aura of sweetness and gentleness about him—so soft-spoken, so genteel. I felt very loud, bold, and brash by comparison. He was so very, very knowledgeable too. He had so many Savarkar anecdotes to tell, and he could quote passages from books off the top of his head. And here I was—a very, very raw writer (who hadn’t yet reached the stage of calling herself an author,) one who had as yet barely grasped the basics of efficient research, but one who was proudly clutching a very much incomplete manuscript (written as a continuous narration till halfway through the Andaman incidents; no chapters as yet, but I was quite confident all would fall into place by and by.)

I can’t remember the details of our conversation, but one segment went like this:

“So, do you take notes of research?” Dr. Godbole asked.

“No, Dr. Godbole.”

“Have you decided on your chapters?”

“No, Dr. Godbole.”

“Have you written anything else, articles and such?”

“No, Dr. Godbole.”

Mentally I began to wonder how many more times I would be saying “No, Dr. Godbole”! If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now very much evident how really heavily the odds were stacked against my writing and publishing this novel.

Fortunately, I am quite irrepressible when on a roll and almost impossible to embarrass. Plus my sense of humor came to the rescue. And so I was still holding my own, laughing and brimming with confidence of succeeding in my oh-so-impossible dream of writing and publishing my novel.

What, I did wonder though, must he think of me? Normally I don’t much care what people think of me, but what Dr. Godbole thought of me was rather important. Fortunately—since I couldn’t actually ask him outright. That was beyond even my gumption!—I was put out of my suspense very soon.

At the same time as I was dashing off an email to Shreerang (upon reaching my parents’ home) telling him how wonderful I thought his dad was, Dr. Godbole was telling him he was favorably impressed with me! He even said (from the quick scan he had done of my manuscript) I wrote well . . . !! I quite shudder to think about that manuscript now, but at the time I was soooo thrilled.

Such was the beginning of our acquaintance.

Anurupa

The Three Wise Monkeys

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! Perhaps because the last few days—since my Gandhi posts—I have been made extremely aware of just how much resistance there is in the minds of people to seeing, hearing, and speaking the truth, the three so-called wise monkeys have been popping in my mind.

· Why do we call them the “wise” monkeys?

· Why do we take the advice of monkeys as gospel?

I really don’t know. Especially since the advice of these particular monkeys “see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil” is a fast-track to La-La land—a world of illusion rather than reality.

· Is there any sense in being willfully blind?

· Is there any sense in being willfully deaf?

Not that I can see.

Yes, there is no reason to speak evil, but when speaking the truth is being looked upon as speaking “evil,” then that is necessary too.

What, I wonder, would the world have been like today, if these monkeys had been telling us “see the truth, hear the truth, speak the truth”?

Anurupa

Reactions to my "Gandhi Facts: Gandhi Revealed" posts

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Hi, Everyone! As I consider birthdays sacrosanct, and today is Gandhi’s birth anniversary, I have taken a break from my posts on Gandhi Facts: Gandhi Revealed for today.

I have had two set of reactions to my posts, one representative of ‘Gandhians’ and the other of ‘Savarkarites.’

I was under the impression that I have made myself very clear about my motives and the driving force behind why I became an author and why I consider it necessary to reveal the truth re Gandhi, but maybe I have not. I am going to give a recap here. More is revealed in my interview @

http://www.readerviews.com/InterviewCinarAnurupaBurningForFreedom.html

But before I go any further, I do want to let everyone know (for I have received insulting, ranting emails from a Gandhian, whom I shall refrain from naming at this time) that any insults to be made to me, must be made as comments on my blog, boldly and openly. Hence forth, I shall certainly consider myself free to publish them there, anyway.

I shall reiterate some points re myself:

· My goal: Worldwide recognition and justice for Savarkar.

· My stand: Truth cannot—and shall not—be hidden!

· My way: Doing what I see is right, even if society in general will oppose it.

Questions I have been asked re my Gandhi posts:

Why am I painting Gandhi black?

· I am not painting Gandhi black. I am presenting documented facts. Whether people see Gandhi as black or white or grey, or indeed any other color, after reading them is entirely up to them.

What do I have to gain by writing so of Gandhi, “the greatest man born on Earth”?

· I don’t consider Gandhi “the greatest man born on Earth,” and I never have.

· I don’t do anything just for “gain.” I am stating unambiguously and frankly what is my driving force and purpose in my first post September 28, my interviews, my website and anywhere else I have a chance to speak.

Is this a disservice to Savarkar (“painting Gandhi black” to “elevate” Savarkar’s image)? “Savarkar does not need this kind of support.”

· Savarkar himself did his very best to let the Indians know the truth about Gandhi—so, no, I don’t see it as a disservice to Savarkar to reveal the truth re Gandhi.

In fact, I see it as a disservice notto do so.

· I am not interested in “elevating” Savarkar’s image—I want the world to know who and what Savarkar is. I want them to look beyond “images.”

· For sixty-five years plus Savarkar has suffered maligning of his name, annihilation of his work and many gross injustices. It is still going on today. Savarkar needs justice and recognition—worldwide.

This is my way of doing it, even if I walk alone on the path.

And I want to state here categorically that I am doing it in my individual capacity—not as a representative of “Savarkarites” or any other group/party/organization nor indeed as a team member of www.savarkar.org.

I particularly want to stress that my opinions and actions are not a reflection of www.savarkar.org. My role there is purely that of a researcher and writer on Savarkar.

Anurupa

Oh, why did they not ask Savarkar?

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Hi, Everyone! In the last three years I have often wished that someone had asked Savarkar a few simple questions. He had lived until the age of 83, after all. That should have given people plenty of time to dig up the courage, if indeed courage was needed!

While reading one of Savarkar’s biographies, an intriguing fact jumped out at me. Savarkar was wearing a bath-robe given to him by Prince Kropotkin at the time of his escape in Marseilles. He had to leave it behind in the SS Morea, naturally.

Why, oh why did no one ever ask him re this bathrobe? There is surely some interesting story behind it?

A bathrobe is hardly the sort of gift one gives to a casual acquaintance! Under what circumstances did Prince Kropotkin gift one to Savarkar? There isn’t even any mention anywhere that the two knew each other. A host of questions come to mind, and the answers are not to be found.

I am on the lookout for Prince Kropotkin’s biographies, hoping that they will shed some light on the subject.

The other thing I really wish Savarkar had noted down was his escape from the SS Morea. It has taken me months and months to chase every detail down and put together a scenario. I even have studied the map and figured out the logical escape route, for Savarkar must have done the same as he walked on the deck plotting his escape. Plus accounts of the various parties mention some landmarks here and there.

But wouldn’t it have been wonderful to hear it all from Savarkar himself? So why did no one ask him?

When Savarkar was being extradited to Mumbai in 1910 in the SS Morea, he was not the only political prisoner on board! But except for a reference here and there re ‘two’ prisoners, accounts are silent on this fact. It is crucial to know the identity of this political prisoner. It will be very interesting to know what kind of paperwork was done for his extradition. It will be interesting to know if he has left an eyewitness account of Savarkar’s escape somewhere. Again, why did no one badger Savarkar to disclose it?

The list can go on. Fortunately, where we have unanswered questions, we also have found documentation that gives validity to many other things that Savarkar has written.

So I shouldn’t really be complaining. But I would so-o-o-o like to know everything.

Anurupa

A little bone to pick . . .

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Hi, Everyone! It is definitely no secret how I feel about Savarkar! But there is one place where I have a bone to pick with him.

Savarkar was held in great awe by all those around him. Though he inspired great devotion in many, not many expressed themselves freely to him. So many simple questions that are being argued over re Savarkar today would not be necessary had someone actually asked him. It puzzles me why it was not done!

Anyway, I do feel, since I don’t believe in being awestruck by anyone, that I would have the necessary gumption to put my issue before him.

Savarkar definitely had great respect and admiration for strong women who faced adversity and took bold steps especially for Mother India. That is apparent in his expressed feelings re Lakshmibai, Queen of Jhansi, his sisters-in-law, and the female characters in his fictional writing.

But when it came right down to it, so it seems to me, he didn’t quite believe women could actually be strong and bold enough to achieve anything in general. In the meager words he has written on women, one finds that he will almost always include the word ‘beautiful’ before the word ‘woman.’ One gets the impression that he believes women are overall all fluff.

This is just my impression, mind you. But I sure would have liked to have an opportunity to put it before him and argue his ears off, if it was indeed true.

Savarkar, of course, was famous for his comebacks, and I might have found myself squashed gently but surely instead (and perhaps turning tail as fast as Nirmalamaushi.) But I would have surely tried.

Anurupa

Another Staunch Savarkarite in the Family

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Hi, Everyone! I was making wholesale discoveries about my family. Long, long before me a granddaughter of Ramchandra Sathe, Mrs. Nirmala Vaidya, was staunchly championing Savarkar’s cause. Not only had she known Savarkar personally, was considered a friend of the family in fact, she has written many articles on Savarkar.

The very day I reached Mumbai in 2009, I had rushed out to meet her. It seemed incredible to me that I was meeting someone who had known Savarkar so well. Nirmalamaushi was a friend of Savarkar’s daughter Prabhat. She was very excited to hear about the novel I fully intended would see light of the day. It made her very happy to see the ‘youngsters’ championing Savarkar, she said.

I stirred restlessly at the ‘youngsters.’ When one gets to my age, one balks a bit at being described as a youngster! I did voice a protest or two, but it went unheard.

She talked of Savarkar and I listened avidly. My author’s mind was busy absorbing impressions. This was as close as I was going to get to Savarkar’s mind. I don’t believe she realized how revealing her words were. Particularly I got an insight into Savarkar re his breakdown and post Gandhi-murder state of mind.

Though it did occur to me that she might not be so forthcoming if she realized I would transfer my impressions into my novel, I did not enlighten her.

I have put an anecdote she told me in story-form:

Savarkar had just returned to Bombay after his meeting with Sir Stafford Cripps. Great things were expected from Cripps, even a solution for the deadlock in the Indian political situation. What had Savarkar and Cripps said to each other? That was the burning question. Everyone around Savarkar had a great curiosity to know the answer. Eighteen-year-old Nirmala was no exception. She had been counting the days, minutes, seconds until Savarkar got back. She had to know the answer to that question—she just hadto know it! And now.

But how? Approaching Savarkar directly was impossible. She, like everyone else, was in great awe of him. He never raised his voice, was always soft-spoken, and didn’t ever express his anger if he felt it. But his intellect, his magnetic personality, his repartee set him apart. It would be quite an impertinence to ask such a question to him.

Nirmala was not one to give up easily! There was only one person who could perhaps get away with it: Prabhat, her dear friend and Savarkar’s daughter. He doted on her, everyone knew that. She hotfooted it to Prabhat’s side.

“Psst, Prabhat!” Nirmala whispered urgently.

“Nirmala! Why are you whispering?” exclaimed Prabhat, looking up from her reading. “What’s going on . . . ?” She had noticed Nirmala’s air of barely contained excitement.

“Ooh, Prabhat! You must, must, must do me a favor!” said Nirmala grabbing Prabhat’s arm and dragging her towards the door.

“I will, Nirmala, I will,” laughed Prabhat, allowing herself to be pulled. “But what do I have to do?”

“Nothing much! Just ask Tatya what he and Sir Cripps talked about.”

“What!” Prabhat came to a screeching halt, and now the dragging started in the opposite direction. “Are you crazy? Never! I cannot do such a thing.”

“Yes, you can,” coaxed Nirmala. “Does he not love you a lot?”

“Ye-e-e-s, but . . . but . . .”

“Don’t you want to know what happened between them?”

“To tell the truth, Nirmala, I re-e-e-ally want to know. But it never occurred to me to ask!”

“Well, now it has. This is our opportunity. He is by himself right now. The coast is clear.”

“Well . . . maybe . . .” Prabhat allowed herself to be drawn towards Savarkar’s room. “He won’t be upset, I hope.”

“Well, if he is a bit, it’s okay. He won’t scold, I’m sure!”

“But his eyes, Nirmala! That look . . . ! I shall sink through the floor if he looks at me like that.”

“Be brave, Prabhat! You are Savarkar’s daughter.”

They had now arrived outside Savarkar’s door. Both girls stood close, clutching each other’s arms for courage. Prabhat knocked timidly and poked her head in. Nirmala peeked over her shoulder.

“Prabhe, Nirmala, what brings you here?” said Savarkar, surprised to see them.

Prabhat ventured into the room on reluctant feet. With Nirmala’s hand urging her forward from behind, there wasn’t much choice.

“Tatya . . . Tatya . . .”

“Yes, Prabhe? Anything wrong?”

“I . . . we . . .” Prabhat swallowed and then the words tumbled out. “What did you say to Sir Cripps, Tatya?”

Savarkar looked at them for a moment. “I told him, Prabhe, that I have two little girls here whom it is very necessary to consult before we make any decision about our Hindustan!” he said, quite gently.

These gentle words had an electrifying result. With one mind both girls turned about and fled out of the room.

This is one of Nirmalamaushi’s fond memories of Savarkar.

Anurupa

Oh Dear . . . !

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Hi, Everyone! Even as I was basking in this glory of my great-grandfather, my aunt added another titbit to my woefully small knowledge-pool of my family.

Ramchandra Sathe had received a gold watch from the British for his investigative efforts in the Nasik Trials.

For a minute I could not grasp all the implications:

· Nasik Trials were the trials in which Savarkar was put away for 50 years!!

· My great-grandfather was a Public Prosecutor in Nasik and had played a role in Savarkar’s fate.

· For which he had received a gold watch from the British. The gold watch is still in my family with my cousin.

I couldn’t think beyond “ulp!” and “oops . . . !” and “Oh dear . . . !” but what to do? It is what it is.

Here I am trying to bring justice to Savarkar, and there was my great-grandfather who was party to one of the injustices inflicted upon him.

C’est la vie!

Anurupa

My wonderful great-grandfather!

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Hi, Everyone! In the course of researching for my novel, I made some surprising discoveries about my own great-grandfather (my mother’s paternal grandfather), Ramchandra Sathe.

Right from the beginning I had decided I would highlight the plights of widows in India in those days. It has always bothered me that widows should receive such horrendous treatment. And perhaps, the fact that I am a widow myself and have experienced some social ostracization (and that in today’s world and in the U.S.!) probably influenced me. Which is why both Mohini and Lakshmi are widows (in the case of Mohini there were other reasons as well).

It was as I started discussing my novel plot with everyone that I discovered—much to my surprise—from my aunt that my great-grandfather had married a widow the second time around. What makes it even more astounding is that he had not married a child-widow, but a widow who had lived with her husband for some years! And this in 1917. I was so, so proud. It shocked me that such an important fact had passed me by all these years.

In 1917, only child-widow remarriage was being advocated by social reformers. And even then, much trouble was given to the widow after her second marriage. Social acceptance was hard to come by. Even Maharshi Karve, who did so much for the emancipation for women, could not give social acceptance to his child-widow wife. She was not allowed in the kitchens, and had cow-dung thrown on her, too, I believe.

Under these circumstances, Ramchandra Sathe’s act seems incredible. Non-virgin widow remarriage was unheard of then. Nor did his wife, Venutai (Janaki, after remarriage,) rush into the marriage to escape widowhood. They corresponded with each other, got to know each other and then decided to marry. They also consulted my grandfather (then only a teenager) to make sure he was not against their marriage. My grandfather was just as great a reformer as his father! He welcomed the idea.

I am not one for walking down a path laid out by traditions. I guess it is in my blood!

But not too long after I discovered something quite, quite shocking (to me) re Ramchandra Sathe. Life is not all sweetness and light.