I was 12 years old when the Emergency was declared by Indira Gandhi. Our house was hardly 100 meters away from the RSS Headquarters in the Mahal area of Nagpur. We had a joint family. Our family and my uncle’s family lived together.
I distinctly remember my father (whom we used to call “Baba”) entering the house with a tense face on 26 June 1975 to break the news that the Emergency had been declared and several Jana Sangh leaders, including Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Lal Krishna Advani, had been arrested. Newspapers and radio were the only sources of news in those days.
At that time, the RSS Sarsanghchalak, the late Madhukar Dattatraya Deoras, was on a regular tour. He was scheduled to arrive in Nagpur by train on 30 June. As usual, Baba, along with a few others, went to receive him at the Nagpur railway station. As soon as Deoras got off the train, a group of plainclothes policemen surrounded him, showed him the arrest warrant, and took him away. He was later transferred to Nashik Central Jail.
On the afternoon of 4 July, Baba rushed home and called all the children in the house (and their friends) to accompany him to the RSS office. We kids were each handed bundles of papers wrapped in bed sheets or dhotis, which we innocently transported on bicycles to various nearby houses, including our own.
Soon after, the police arrived at the RSS office. As planned, two senior pracharaks — late Krishnarao Mohril and late Pandurangpant Kshirsagar (who was then the “Vyavastha Pramukh” of the RSS) — remained in the office and surrendered to the police, while everyone else went underground. The police didn’t find anything significant. Both pracharaks were arrested, and the office was sealed. Pandurangpant was later shifted to Thane Central Jail.
In our family, my father and his five brothers were all Sangh Swayamsevaks. Three of the younger brothers were lifelong pracharaks: in Vidarbha, Assam, and Odisha. Naturally, we were concerned about them. Within a couple of days, we received news that Sharad Kaka (the pracharak in Vidarbha) had been arrested and sent to Nagpur Jail. The other two pracharak uncles remained underground.
Baba assumed he would also be arrested soon. He was a school principal and delegated his responsibilities to someone else. But, surprisingly, he was not arrested until September 1975. He was then lodged in Nagpur Jail. Since both brothers were in the same jail, we applied to meet each of them separately so we could see them more frequently. Small pleasures in those days.
Later, home-cooked food was allowed. Though the jail was quite far from our house, one of us would cycle there to deliver a tiffin to the jail authorities. The tiffin box also became a safe mode of correspondence. Relatives of those arrested devised innovative ways to exchange letters, like stitching a letter into the inner pocket of a cotton carry bag, or wrapping it in plastic and dipping it inside daal or curry. I am sure the jail authorities were aware of these tricks, but they mostly ignored them.
Letters sent by post to anyone in the family were usually opened and read by the police before delivery. So, they were written in coded language and sent to the address of an unsuspecting neighbour. When Arvind Kaka (the pracharak in Odisha) was arrested, one of our relatives received a letter stating he had been “admitted to hospital.” Most of the letters were written on postcards.
My youngest cousin Ajay was just 8 or 9 years old. As an extra precaution, we drafted a postcard in his name, addressed to the RSS chief, inquiring about his health. He replied on a postcard too, saying he was doing quite well.
RSS chief Deoras’ 60th birthday occurred while he was in jail. A campaign was launched to send him 60,000 postcards with birthday wishes. As a precaution, people were instructed to sign only their first names and mention only their town. On behalf of our family, my mother wrote him a postcard. Connecting her first name, “Vaijayanti,” with “Nagpur,” Deoras recognised the sender and sent a handwritten reply.
That period, of course, was full of anxiety, tension, and bad news: swayamsevaks losing their jobs, financial crises, and the deaths of relatives, to name a few. Fortunately, since we were part of a joint family, my uncles took care of us. But many others needed support. There was an elaborate arrangement to collect small amounts from those who could afford it and redistribute to those in need. Grain merchants and farmers also contributed food grains to support the families of those in jail.
One such bad news was the death of Pandurangpant Kshirsagar in Thane Jail. His mortal remains were brought to Nagpur by road. Defying police restrictions, hundreds of Swayamsevaks turned out to pay their respects. Though it had been decided that no underground pracharak would attend the funeral, Abaji Thatte (then personal secretary to Deoras) could not hold himself back. He was recognised by the police and arrested at the funeral itself.
As mentioned earlier, Baba and one of my uncles were in Nagpur Jail. Eventually, my eldest brother Shriram also participated in the satyagraha and was jailed for more than a month in Nagpur itself. So it was relatively easier for us to meet them. My fifth uncle, who was based in Assam, remained underground. He came to Nagpur disguised in trousers and a shirt, kept long hair, and wore thick spectacles. He stayed hidden throughout the Emergency.
The inability to arrest him and most other pracharaks in Assam — many originally from Maharashtra — was a great source of frustration for the Assam government, especially for then Congress president DK Barooah of “Indira is India” fame.
Meanwhile, my uncle Arvind was far away, lodged in Balasore Jail in Odisha. My second and third uncles, both government servants, were under surveillance. Eventually, they wrote to the jail authorities in Balasore to request a meeting. After some effort, they received permission and travelled to Balasore to meet him.
Our home was always full. There would be underground RSS pracharaks (whom even we could hardly recognise due to their changed appearances), well-wishers, and occasionally, uninvited intelligence officers. Sometimes, underground pracharaks even crossed paths with police officers without being recognised. The only news of interest was who had been arrested the previous day. Those who weren’t in jail had to bear more responsibility and stress than those who were.
No one was sure when the Emergency, or the ban on the RSS, would be lifted. The RSS had shown tremendous strength and, at the same time, great patience. Deoras described it as a “war of nerves.” In spite of all the difficulties, no one from the RSS wrote a letter of forgiveness to the government. Baba and my uncles, like many others, walked out of jail only after Indira Gandhi was defeated.
Vijay Chauthaiwale is in-charge, foreign affairs department, BJP. He tweets @vijai63. Views are personal.
(Edited by Prashant)