A Thing that Happened

IT IS not the policy of the Karmayogin to dwell on incidents whether of the present administration of the country or of the relations between the ruling caste and the people. To criticise persistently the frequent instances of high­handedness and maladministration inevitable under a regime like the present does not lead to the redress of grievances; all that it does is to create a prejudice against the reigning bureaucracy. The basis of our claim to Swaraj is not that the English bureaucracy is a bad or tyrannical Government; a bureaucracy is always inclined to be arrogant, self-sufficient, self-righteous and unsympathetic, to ignore the abuses with which it abounds, and a bureaucracy foreign and irresponsible to the people is likely to exhibit these characteristics in an exaggerated form. But even if we were ruled by a bureaucracy of angels, we should still lay claim to Swaraj and move towards national self-sufficiency and independence. On the same principle we do not notice or lay stress on the collisions between Englishmen and Indians which are an inevitable result of the anomalous and unnatural relations existing between the races. It is the relations themselves we seek to alter from the root instead of dealing with the symptoms. But the incident at Goalundo detailed in this week's Dharma is one which the country has to take notice of, unless we are to suppose that the movement of 1905 was the last flaring up of national strength and spirit previous to extinction and that the extinction has now come. We have received a letter from the sufferer translated into English, it is from his own account that we summarise the facts.

A Brahmin Pandit with the title of Kavyatirtha, ignorant of English, was proceeding with two Bengali ladies from Mymensing to Calcutta on Sunday the 2nd January by the Kaligunge mail steamer, and reached Goalundo at 11 o'clock at night, too late to catch the Calcutta train. He and some other passengers decided to spend the night in the steamer. While he was going

down to look after his luggage, an European came up to him, caught his wrapper, twisted it tightly round his neck and said in Hindustani, "Who are you ?" Getting no answer to his request for an explanation except the repetition of the question, he replied that he was a passenger. Thereupon without farther parley the Englishman proceeded to drag the unresisting Pandit to another steamer lying alongside. On the way the latter appealed to the sub-agent of the Steamer Company, a certain Sarat Babu, but, after a word from the Saheb, was told that he must accompany the aggressor to the Company's agent, with a name which the Pandit caught as Joyce. It was not, however, to the Agent, but into a first-class cabin where there were three other Europeans and two English women, that the Brahmin was dragged and the door closed behind him. No sooner was he in the hands of this company than he was charged with having abused the Englishman whom he had never seen before in his life, and a savage blow dealt him in the left eye which cut the skin and set blood flowing freely. Blows after blows were rained on head and body, the head being cruelly battered, the lips cut open and some of the teeth loosened. His appeals for mercy were answered by a shower of kicks with booted feet on his head and the English women joined in the pastime by beating him furiously on the thigh with a dog chain. The unfortunate Bengali was by this time sick, stunned and almost senseless with the beating. The pain of the blows falling on his already bruised and battered head was intense and the iron chain drew blood with each cut. Fortunately he happened to fall against the door and it flew open. With difficulty he managed to crawl to the staircase; but at this moment the Englishman drew a revolver and, pointing it at him, cried out "Shala, I will shoot you." In terror of his life the Brahmin managed anyhow to plunge down the stairs and dropped almost senseless at the bottom. His eyes were clotted with blood, but he caught a glimpse of Sarat Babu coming near him with an European whom he conjectured to be the Agent Mr. Joyce. A few words were spoken between the two. Afterwards Sarat Babu returned and told the Pandit that he could expect no redress from the Company, but he might bring a criminal suit if he cared to do so. The farther happenings of that night need

not be entered into, except to note the extraordinary conduct of the Company's officers who almost immediately separated the two steamers and took the Kaligunge mail into midstream where they kept it until the Europeans had escaped in their steamer to Naraingunge. It was only possible to discover from the luggage labels that they belonged to a jute factory in Nakail near Aralia. There were some Bengali passengers present, including a pleader from Jessore and an employee of the Sealdah District Superintendent's Audit office but, though they sympathised with and cared for their compatriot after he had escaped with his life, there was none to assist him at the moment of the outrage, nor could even the piteous cries of the ladies awake a spark of resolution anywhere in those present. The Samities of young men are disbanded, the cry of Bande Mataram has sunk to rest, and royally-minded individuals like the perpetrators of this murderous assault can finish their imperial pastime unhindered.

We feel a great difficulty in dealing with this case. We are not in the habit of dealing in violent language, yet to write coolly of it is a little difficult. And if we describe the assault as an infamous atrocity or describe these English gentlemen and ladies as cowardly ruffians and fiendish assassins, we have to recollect that such phrases are properly applied to Indian Terrorists and we may be prosecuted under Sec. 153A if we apply them to Europeans who, after all, did nothing but amuse themselves. Moreover, any indication of the proper deserts of these people, however carefully expressed, might expose us to forfeiture of our Press and prosecution under the new laws. If we point out that such things seem to happen with impunity under the present conditions in India, Sec. 124A is lying in wait, ready to trip us up, and the Andamans or twenty years' hard labour with handcuffs and fetters loom before our uneasy apprehensions. We do not know whether, considering how the Sedition law is being interpreted in Bombay, Nagpur, and the Punjab, even mentioning this incident may not bring us within its provisions. It is impossible, however, to pass it over in silence, and we proceed, therefore, to make a few observations, treading amid the pitfalls of the law as carefully as we can.

First, we have a word to the Government of East Bengal.

It is very busy dealing with romantic dacoities, shapeless conspiracies, vague shadows of Terrorism, Arms Act Cases, meetings of Reform Councils overstocked with landholders and Mahomedans. We do not know whether it has any time or interest to spare for little sordid unromantic incidents of this kind. If it has any spare time, it might do worse in its own interests than glance once at that night's doings at Goalundo. It is obviously impossible to appeal to the law. Even if the identity of the assailants were fixed, the culprits would at once bring a trumped-up countercharge, say, of robbery, dacoity, Anarchism or any handy accusation, and the word of a hundred Bengalis, of whatever position or honourable antecedents, would not weigh with any but an exceptional Judge, against that of a single Englishman, whatever his antecedents or education. The only probable result would be to add a term of imprisonment to the Pandit's misfortunes. Even to reveal his name might expose him to the gentle mercies of the local Police in his District. All we can do, therefore, is to advertise the Shillong Government of what has happened and give them the chance of action.

Then, we have one word to say to the nation. The assault was motiveless and seems to have been committed merely because the Pandit was a Bengali and the Europeans felt in the mood to hammer a Bengali, perhaps out of the race-hatred which organs like the Englishman are busy fomenting with perfect impunity. There is no other explanation of the facts. The thing has happened and we wish to say at once that nothing in our remarks must be held to mean that we advise retaliation. But incidents like these never happen to a brave, patriotic and self-respecting nation; they happen only to those who cower and fear and, by their character, justify men who think themselves entitled to treat them like slaves. When the Bengalis showed themselves in the first ardour of 1905 a brave, patriotic and self-respecting nation, these incidents ceased to happen. If they are now reviving with features of a studied atrocity absent from similar brutalities in the past, it must be because we are ceasing to deserve those appellations. The nation is cowering in silence under the terror of repressive laws, all symptoms of national life are discouraged by the leaders and the elders as dangerous and untimely. Those

who dare to speak words of hope and courage to the people, are denounced by your vernacular journals, shut out by carefully devised creeds and regulations from the body you still call the National Congress, boycotted by some of your District Conferences. If the Government see Anarchists and dacoits in every bush, you see deportations and house-searches in every Lal-pagri. You cower in your homes, speak your opinions in hushed whispers, allow the national spirit to die out and your Mother to go down again into the black pit from which we raised her. And this incident at Goalundo is the first ominous warning God gives you of the inevitable result.

There is only one way to uphold a nation's honour and to compel outrages upon it to cease automatically, — and that is to show that we are a nation and not a herd. If by any means within the law, the perpetrators of this outrage can be made to feel that Bengalis cannot be half-battered to death with impunity, it should doubtless be done. But no personal anger, no violent language or violent actions are needed. The reawakening of the national spirit ready to act fearlessly and blamelessly — for self-defence and prevention of a crime are blameless, — on every emergency great or small, will of itself be sufficient.