A few hours after landing at Port Blair airport, we were taking a ride around the city in a car provided by the tour operator. The driver was a friendly young man, eager to show us the sights normally frequented by tourists. He was driving at the usual speed feasible in a traffic returning home after a day’s work.
Suddenly, he slowed down the car and pulled up at the side next to the curb and pointed to a huge gated premise. It was rather an obscure building but bright flood lights and presence of a few armed guards in uniform standing in rapt attention gave it an ominous look.
This is the Cellular Jail,- the driver’s voice suddenly sounded grim. I felt an instant chill down my spine. So, this was the place which bore witness to a sordid tale of our freedom struggle. Innumerable stories lodged in my memory narrated by my teachers at school and the stories I read in various books and magazines suddenly started flooding my mind. I suggested to take a walk around the building and “feel” the place. The young driver objected, - it was rather late and the gate was closed for the visitors. Moreover, we were scheduled to visit the place the following day.
There was a long queue outside the building when we arrived next day. People came from all over the country and waited patiently for the gate to open. Our guide, who joined us in the morning, had the tickets ready.
An eerie feeling greeted me the moment we entered the compound of the stone and brick structure that stood witness to a gruesome saga of our freedom movement. My heart felt heavy; breath heavier and the cool January air whined and resonated the screams of hundreds of interns, who were exposed to the worst kind of torture perpetrated by fellow human beings.
Who were the tormentors? They were the colonial representatives of the world’s most advanced civilization of the time, a nation known and admired for its sense of justice and fairness. It was a society that gifted the world a charter of democracy. It was the leader of the free world before the Americans stepped on the global stage.
However, the treatment meted out to the prisoners stood in sharp contrast to their sanctified image. They left behind contraptions and devices meant and designed to torture a fellow human being to the worst form of agony. The victims were not hard-core criminals who indulged in murder, drug peddling or kidnapping! They were men from average Indian families with an indomitable desire to set their country free from the clutches of an alien power. Some of them were barely in their teens.
The jail was originally designed in the form of a Star fish with 7 wings radiating out of a watch tower at the centre. The front of each wing faced the back of the next to eliminate any chance of communication between the prisoners. Only three wings survived the Japanese bombing during the Second World War. The prison came to be known as the cellular jail due to number of isolated cells built for the prisoners. There were 693 cells in all, each measuring 13.5 ft x 7.5 ft with a 3 ft x 1 ft ventilator located 10 ft above ground. There was no light whatsoever. The cells have been left as they were to let the visitors have a feel of the mental torture the prisoners were exposed to. The prisoners begged for lights to be installed inside the cells to enable them to read or write within a brief time slot they were allowed . Their request was summarily dismissed.
The prisoners were pushed into the cell behind heavy iron doors at 6 pm every evening and let out after 12 hours. Each prisoner was given a small earthen plate to defecate or answer to nature's call. Each morning, their first duty was to clean the plate for reuse. There were no toilet facilities inside the cells or anywhere else in the prison for the inmates. Their meals consisted of dry grass roots and rice mixed with stones.
The prisoners were given hard labour with unattainable targets. Flogging and solitary confinement without food was routine. Of the many arduous tasks, the toughest was to extract oil from cocoanuts and make ropes. The target set was often unachievable and prisoners were punished with severe flogging with their hands and feet tied in chains. No rest or recess was allowed. Any resistance, overt or covert, forced the inmates to solitary confinement with no food or water for days.
Political prisoners and revolutionaries were given the cruellest treatment. At the slightest pretext, they were flogged till they bled and became unconscious. Many died, some committed suicide. Ullaskar Dutta lost his mental balance and was transferred to Madras. Indubhushan Roy was another revolutionary who could not stand the torture and killed himself. Pandit Ramraksha went on a hunger strike as his holy thread was snatched away. He died of self-inflicted hunger. Vinayak Damodar Savarkar was branded as a “dreaded revolutionary” and was kept confined in an iron contraption that made his movement severely restricted. Ganesh Damodar Savarkar, Veer's elder brother was also in the same jail at the same time. They were not aware of each other's presence. So severe was the isolation.
Quite frequently, a few prisoners were condemned to death. The gallows were set up behind a wall, where all the prisoners would be gathered before carrying out the execution. Normally, three condemned prisoners were hanged simultaneously. There were no funerals, neither cremation nor burial. The bodies were tossed away in the sea as a feed to marine creatures in full view of the prisoners.
Due to the vast stretch of Bay of Bengal and the ferocious marine creatures, escape from the island was perilous.
David Berry, a devil reincarnate, was the dreaded jailor whose cruelty probably had no parallel in history. He boasted often that in heaven and on earth there was one God but on the Andaman Islands, the sole God was he himself. Some of the survivors described Berry as a 5 ft 3 inches tall bull dog whose ferocity was unparalleled. Unfortunately, as has been the norm in our country’s history, his assistant and partner in crime was an Indian. Mirza Khan was a petty officer who often went beyond his brief to torture his fellow countrymen to keep his masters happy. He was rewarded with a promotion to the rank of Jamadar and proudly flouted his authority. It was probably divine justice that Berry became ill with a mysterious disease and died on the way to Calcutta for treatment. Our guide was unclear about the fate of Mirza Khan.
There was a dead silence all around when our guide was narrating the horrifying stories. The tourists were too numb to even react or comment. Suddenly, there was a commotion behind us. I turned around and saw a young lady presumably in her thirties, on her knees and sobbing profusely. A young man, obviously her husband was knelt beside her and consoling her affectionately. It transpired that the young lady’s late grandfather was a freedom fighter and was confined here for many years. For her, the tragedy was too personal. Later, we saw the lady once again caressing the name of her grandfather on one of the many tablets where names of the internees were inscribed.
In spite of the inhuman treatment meted out to the inmates, a few had the courage to defy orders. They were locked up in devilishly designed devices that were far worse than being confined in a tiny cell. No wonder, in course of time the notoriety of the cellular jail reached every corner of the country and this beautiful islands of Anadaman Nicover came to be known as “Kala Pani”.
Ever since the British strengthened their grip on the country in 1857, they were on the lookout for a penal colony as there were not enough jails to imprison their perceived adversaries. Andaman & Nicobar Island, which were initially conceived as a naval base, were found the most suitable. Ironically, the freedom fighters themselves were sent to these islands as bonded labours to construct the dreaded dungeon.
Being away from the roving eyes of the society, the jail authority in the cellular jail unabashedly indulged in the worst form of atrocities. However, due to a twist of fate, the Japanese captured the islands in 1939 during the Second World War and many of the British perpetrators were interned in their own cesspit. One important event in history during this period was the arrival of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose here under the tutelage of the Japanese army. He hoisted the Indian flag here for the first time. However, Japanese turned out to be equally cruel in their treatment to the prisoners. They even tortured the local residents ruthlessly. At the end of the Second World War, the British recaptured Andaman Islands.
It was really tragic and outright shocking that the government of independent India continued to use this place as a prison till the late seventies. Though the freedom fighters were released, the appeal to dedicate this structure to the memory of thousands who made the highest sacrifice to see their motherland free was lost in procedural complexities. Only in 1979, it was declared as a national monument. Every evening, a light and sound show at the courtyard kept the memories of the sacrifices alive.
A memorial with an eternal flame has been erected at the entrance with the heart rending message, "When you go home, tell them of us and say, for your tomorrow, we gave our today'.
Jai Hind.
23 January 2018
Suddenly, he slowed down the car and pulled up at the side next to the curb and pointed to a huge gated premise. It was rather an obscure building but bright flood lights and presence of a few armed guards in uniform standing in rapt attention gave it an ominous look.
This is the Cellular Jail,- the driver’s voice suddenly sounded grim. I felt an instant chill down my spine. So, this was the place which bore witness to a sordid tale of our freedom struggle. Innumerable stories lodged in my memory narrated by my teachers at school and the stories I read in various books and magazines suddenly started flooding my mind. I suggested to take a walk around the building and “feel” the place. The young driver objected, - it was rather late and the gate was closed for the visitors. Moreover, we were scheduled to visit the place the following day.
There was a long queue outside the building when we arrived next day. People came from all over the country and waited patiently for the gate to open. Our guide, who joined us in the morning, had the tickets ready.
An eerie feeling greeted me the moment we entered the compound of the stone and brick structure that stood witness to a gruesome saga of our freedom movement. My heart felt heavy; breath heavier and the cool January air whined and resonated the screams of hundreds of interns, who were exposed to the worst kind of torture perpetrated by fellow human beings.
Who were the tormentors? They were the colonial representatives of the world’s most advanced civilization of the time, a nation known and admired for its sense of justice and fairness. It was a society that gifted the world a charter of democracy. It was the leader of the free world before the Americans stepped on the global stage.
However, the treatment meted out to the prisoners stood in sharp contrast to their sanctified image. They left behind contraptions and devices meant and designed to torture a fellow human being to the worst form of agony. The victims were not hard-core criminals who indulged in murder, drug peddling or kidnapping! They were men from average Indian families with an indomitable desire to set their country free from the clutches of an alien power. Some of them were barely in their teens.
The jail was originally designed in the form of a Star fish with 7 wings radiating out of a watch tower at the centre. The front of each wing faced the back of the next to eliminate any chance of communication between the prisoners. Only three wings survived the Japanese bombing during the Second World War. The prison came to be known as the cellular jail due to number of isolated cells built for the prisoners. There were 693 cells in all, each measuring 13.5 ft x 7.5 ft with a 3 ft x 1 ft ventilator located 10 ft above ground. There was no light whatsoever. The cells have been left as they were to let the visitors have a feel of the mental torture the prisoners were exposed to. The prisoners begged for lights to be installed inside the cells to enable them to read or write within a brief time slot they were allowed . Their request was summarily dismissed.
The prisoners were pushed into the cell behind heavy iron doors at 6 pm every evening and let out after 12 hours. Each prisoner was given a small earthen plate to defecate or answer to nature's call. Each morning, their first duty was to clean the plate for reuse. There were no toilet facilities inside the cells or anywhere else in the prison for the inmates. Their meals consisted of dry grass roots and rice mixed with stones.
The prisoners were given hard labour with unattainable targets. Flogging and solitary confinement without food was routine. Of the many arduous tasks, the toughest was to extract oil from cocoanuts and make ropes. The target set was often unachievable and prisoners were punished with severe flogging with their hands and feet tied in chains. No rest or recess was allowed. Any resistance, overt or covert, forced the inmates to solitary confinement with no food or water for days.
Political prisoners and revolutionaries were given the cruellest treatment. At the slightest pretext, they were flogged till they bled and became unconscious. Many died, some committed suicide. Ullaskar Dutta lost his mental balance and was transferred to Madras. Indubhushan Roy was another revolutionary who could not stand the torture and killed himself. Pandit Ramraksha went on a hunger strike as his holy thread was snatched away. He died of self-inflicted hunger. Vinayak Damodar Savarkar was branded as a “dreaded revolutionary” and was kept confined in an iron contraption that made his movement severely restricted. Ganesh Damodar Savarkar, Veer's elder brother was also in the same jail at the same time. They were not aware of each other's presence. So severe was the isolation.
Quite frequently, a few prisoners were condemned to death. The gallows were set up behind a wall, where all the prisoners would be gathered before carrying out the execution. Normally, three condemned prisoners were hanged simultaneously. There were no funerals, neither cremation nor burial. The bodies were tossed away in the sea as a feed to marine creatures in full view of the prisoners.
Due to the vast stretch of Bay of Bengal and the ferocious marine creatures, escape from the island was perilous.
David Berry, a devil reincarnate, was the dreaded jailor whose cruelty probably had no parallel in history. He boasted often that in heaven and on earth there was one God but on the Andaman Islands, the sole God was he himself. Some of the survivors described Berry as a 5 ft 3 inches tall bull dog whose ferocity was unparalleled. Unfortunately, as has been the norm in our country’s history, his assistant and partner in crime was an Indian. Mirza Khan was a petty officer who often went beyond his brief to torture his fellow countrymen to keep his masters happy. He was rewarded with a promotion to the rank of Jamadar and proudly flouted his authority. It was probably divine justice that Berry became ill with a mysterious disease and died on the way to Calcutta for treatment. Our guide was unclear about the fate of Mirza Khan.
There was a dead silence all around when our guide was narrating the horrifying stories. The tourists were too numb to even react or comment. Suddenly, there was a commotion behind us. I turned around and saw a young lady presumably in her thirties, on her knees and sobbing profusely. A young man, obviously her husband was knelt beside her and consoling her affectionately. It transpired that the young lady’s late grandfather was a freedom fighter and was confined here for many years. For her, the tragedy was too personal. Later, we saw the lady once again caressing the name of her grandfather on one of the many tablets where names of the internees were inscribed.
In spite of the inhuman treatment meted out to the inmates, a few had the courage to defy orders. They were locked up in devilishly designed devices that were far worse than being confined in a tiny cell. No wonder, in course of time the notoriety of the cellular jail reached every corner of the country and this beautiful islands of Anadaman Nicover came to be known as “Kala Pani”.
Ever since the British strengthened their grip on the country in 1857, they were on the lookout for a penal colony as there were not enough jails to imprison their perceived adversaries. Andaman & Nicobar Island, which were initially conceived as a naval base, were found the most suitable. Ironically, the freedom fighters themselves were sent to these islands as bonded labours to construct the dreaded dungeon.
Being away from the roving eyes of the society, the jail authority in the cellular jail unabashedly indulged in the worst form of atrocities. However, due to a twist of fate, the Japanese captured the islands in 1939 during the Second World War and many of the British perpetrators were interned in their own cesspit. One important event in history during this period was the arrival of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose here under the tutelage of the Japanese army. He hoisted the Indian flag here for the first time. However, Japanese turned out to be equally cruel in their treatment to the prisoners. They even tortured the local residents ruthlessly. At the end of the Second World War, the British recaptured Andaman Islands.
It was really tragic and outright shocking that the government of independent India continued to use this place as a prison till the late seventies. Though the freedom fighters were released, the appeal to dedicate this structure to the memory of thousands who made the highest sacrifice to see their motherland free was lost in procedural complexities. Only in 1979, it was declared as a national monument. Every evening, a light and sound show at the courtyard kept the memories of the sacrifices alive.
A memorial with an eternal flame has been erected at the entrance with the heart rending message, "When you go home, tell them of us and say, for your tomorrow, we gave our today'.
Jai Hind.
23 January 2018
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