The Japanese Monsoon missions, and the I-29

And its involvement in Indian affairs

During the early 40’s, as the world was engulfed in a great war, pitting the Allies against the Axis, the battles drifted Eastwards, and the skirmishes in the air and over the seas intensified. Frigates churned the waters and bombers roared overhead in many war theaters, while submarines prowled the depths waiting to pounce on enemy warships and merchantmen plying the waters above. German U-boats, Italian Sottomarini, and Japanese Sensuikan competed with British and American submarines in outmaneuvering each other, while radar-equipped B-24s scanned the waters, to swoop down like eagles and bomb them as they surfaced. Through this melee, two Axis submarines, one from Japan and another from Germany, moved in opposite directions, and at each other, intent on a secret mission somewhat connected to the liberation of India.

In the previous article, we followed the fortunes of the American cargo ship Paul Luckenbach, read about its sinking off the coast of Madagascar, and checked the fate of its survivors, who ultimately ended up in Calicut. The latter story of the submarine I-29, which fired its torpedoes at the Luckenbach, is equally interesting due to its subsequent connections to India. Let’s spend a few minutes checking it out.

Recapping, we saw that those Japanese submarines and their support frigate groups had moved out of the Pacific Ocean and relocated to attack Allied merchant ships plying the Indian Ocean, preventing supplies from reaching Allied front lines, circumventing blockades, and augmenting German Axis efforts. Many of the submarines involved in these shipping attacks moved out from European bases to Penang after the Japanese took Singapore, Malaya, the Andaman Islands, and later, Burma.

U-boat Base - Penang

As we read previously, U-boats became the most significant peril to maritime shipping since the War started in 1939. Wolfpacks roamed freely underwater and sank many a ship destined for the West. While the subs roamed the seas, the Allies were perfecting their submarine search-and-destroy techniques from the air. By February 1942, Singapore had become part of the Japanese-controlled territories in Southeast Asia. As the Japanese joined up with the Germans to form the Axis powers, the Kriegsmarine, i.e., the Third Reich’s navy, decided to create an Eastern base in Penang. Strangely, it remained somewhat of a secret, and few locals were aware of this establishment. It was also a base for Japanese submarines during the remainder of the war. The Japanese 8th Flotilla, commanded by Admiral Uzuki, which participated in the Yanagi transport missions, used Penang as its staging base, while Singapore remained the repair base.

The base was established at George Town, at a former British seaplane station in Penang. Japan was 3500 nautical miles away, and Singapore was 415 nautical miles from the base. It was certainly strategic, located on the Swettenham Pier, and covered the northern end of the strategic Malacca Strait, through which shipping destined to the West had to pass. Not a full-fledged base, it was at best a repair depot and a home base for the crew.

From the German side, the U-511 was the first to arrive at Penang, which was then sent to Kobe, allowing the Japanese to model new submarines around it for the future. Wilhelm Dommes, the captain of U-178, arrived to set up the U-boat base in August 1943. From there, he would oversee the U-boat operations at Penang, Singapore, Surabaya, and Kobe.  Thus, this became the home for the Monsunboote or the Monsoon boat program. Initially, 11 German U-boats were deployed, but during transit, 4 were destroyed, two were converted into supply boats, out of which one sank, and five got through to Penang. As these U-boats arrived towards the end of the monsoon season, they were called the Gruppe Monsun or the Monsoon group. Three Italian submarines were also stationed there, but they were primarily used for transport. Over time, U Boat combat missions were reduced and converted to Yanagi transport missions.

Another reason for the move out East was that the war in the Atlantic, where the U-boats had wreaked havoc, was now tilting in favor of the Allies. Although the concept was sound, the problem was that Penang was far away, and secondly, supply boats were scarce.  It was certainly not a great arrangement; the Japanese and the Germans (who considered themselves vastly superior) quarreled incessantly, and therefore, the sharing of authority between them proved to be quite difficult.  Also, around this time, Allied SIGINT had cracked the German Enigma codes and were finding it easier to track the movements of these U-boats.

Yanagi missions

The Axis powers needed supplies badly to continue on with the War, and these had to arrive from diverse sources. Germany needed rubber, tin, tungsten, copper, and bismuth, as well as medicines such as quinine, while the Japanese needed steel, mercury, and optical glass. It also became clear that Japan and Germany should exchange military technology, including military hardware, prototypes of new weapons, and research data. The only corridor for exchanging the above information was underwater, using submarines, simply because air transport was no longer viable.

The naval and air power of the Allies made overseas blockade-running shipments difficult. German Admiral Karl Dönitz conceived the idea of utilizing refitted submarines for this purpose. The Japanese Navy agreed to build twenty large cargo submarines for the Yanagi missions (the significance of the U511 transfer via Penang). This was how the Yanagi Sakusen started, namely a series of submarine voyages undertaken by the two navies to exchange technology, skills, and materials with Nazi Germany.

The Japanese Submarine I-29

The 8th Submarine Squadron, part of the Japanese 6^th Fleet, was thus relocated from the Marshall Islands to Penang in 1942 and remained there until late 1944. These Japanese subs were involved in offensive raids and sank many ships, participated in Yanagi missions, and were also involved in transferring IIL spies and saboteurs to Indian shores (see articles on the Swaraj School).

Many submarines (I- followed by two digits such as I-10, 16, 20, 21, 22, 24, 27, 28, and through to 30) participated in the missions, and perhaps the most famous was the B1 class I-29, named Matsu, launched in 1940. Commissioned on 27 February 1942, into the 14th submarine squadron and commanded by Izu Juichi, it was involved in many daring raids, the famous reconnaissance of the Sydney harbor before it was attacked, sinking of quite a few ships, including the Paul Luckenbach on Sept 22, 1942, plus a few others along the way. The I-29 returned to Penang after a successful run on 5th Oct 1942 and went on to have a remarkable wartime record for a Japanese submarine, sinking even more merchant ships. It also did multiple successful Yanagi missions to Germany (Juichi Izu was part of many more exploits before losing his life in another submarine that was sunk by the Allies).

In April 1943, it was tasked with a Yanagi mission by Masao Teraoka, the commander of the submarine flotilla. She left Penang with a cargo that included two tons of gold for the Japanese embassy in Berlin and was additionally tasked with a secret mission, to bring back a couple of mechanics from Berlin.

Berlin - Germany

Bose arrived in Nazi Germany in 1941, where the leadership offered little support and mostly sympathy for India’s independence. German funds were nevertheless provided to open a Free India Centre in Berlin. A 3,000-strong Free India Legion was recruited from among Indian POWs captured by Erwin Rommel’s Afrika Korps to serve under Bose. As we saw in the Jai Hind article, Bose had Abid Hassan and NG Swami assist with recruiting of key personnel from this group to team up with the Germans in an attack on the Afghan border, a project which was eventually shelved. Bose was then asked to travel to Japan and discuss arrangements to collaborate with the Japanese and plan resistance from Southeast Asia.

Continuing discussions with German authorities, Bose also met (May 29, 1942) with Adolf Hitler to cement his proposals. He desired to move as soon as possible to SE Asia and direct the free India operations from as close to the Indian border as possible. Hitler agreed to find a way of sending Bose to Asia, and suggested traveling in either a German or a Japanese submarine. Things were not going well for the Germans in the war, and Bose’s plans did not receive any urgency from that point on, so he attempted to persuade the Italians to assist him in flying to Burma. On a personal level, Emilie was pregnant with Bose’s child and nearing the delivery date. The flight plans were delayed for various reasons, while Emilie delivered Anita in Vienna.  Eventually, Bose’s submarine voyage to Japan was finalized in January 1943. Though intending to take along Swami, Hassan, and Vyas, Bose had to contend with just Hasan, as space was limited in the submarine. Bose and Hasan thus started preparing for an arduous submarine trip to Japan.

The submarine they boarded was the U-180 with its forward torpedo tubes removed to create space for cargo. Overland, meanwhile, the war was starting to turn. After their rapid advance into Russia, the seemingly invincible German army was defeated by the harsh Soviet winter and a determined, resolute Red Army in Stalingrad in February 1943. Mahatma Gandhi was undertaking a hunger fast in India, and the Quit India Movement had been crushed.

U 180

On 9th February 1943, the submarine sailed from Kiel, headed towards the Indian Ocean. On the eve of their departure, cargo destined for Japan was loaded onto the submarine, and eventually, the supercargo arrived – two Asian-looking gentlemen. The crew was not told who the two strangers boarding the U-Boat were, only that they were machinists. One of the sailors recognized Bose and mentioned that it was the Indian Adolf, who had been with Hitler, as he had seen the press report and the photographs. But the U-boat’s commander, Musenberg, assured them that the two men were two specialist engineers going to help in a submarine bunker construction in Norway.

Abid Hasan recounts the voyage in his interviews and notes, he remembers that everything smelled of diesel, omnipresent within the hull. Bose was given a bunk along the passage, and the spartan meals served were chunks of beef and dank bread. Hasan managed to find some rice and lentils, which, much to Hasan’s dismay, Bose shared with other sailors. He then helped Bose make revisions to his work “Indian Struggle”, drafts of many speeches, as well as the plans to create a women's regiment. The long voyage was dangerous and adventurous, and had a close shave when the U-180 had to make a hasty dive to escape a British frigate speeding up to ram them. After a two-month voyage, the U-boat circumvented the Cape of Good Hope in April 1943 and lay in wait for the Japanese submarine headed their way.

Meanwhile, the I-29 had departed Penang, carrying a small reconnaissance aircraft, 17 torpedoes, a 14 cm gun, and a crew of 94. The crew had been having a torrid time, for the subs had no air conditioning, and with a range of some 16,000 miles, they had been at sea for a long time. Eventually, the I-29 rendezvoused with the U-180 near Madagascar.

Even though the waters were rough, the transfer was completed on April 26, and rafts were used to ferry cargo back and forth, as well as the two Indians. Two Japanese naval officers sent to study U-boat construction and 2 tons of gold were transferred to U-180. The I-29 took a path far away from the British sea patrols and changed their destination to Sabang, in Sumatra. On May 29^th, the I-29 docked at Sabang, and Subhas Bose, accompanied by Abid Hasan, stepped ashore after a 90-day voyage under the seas. Following a few days' rest, accompanied by Admiral Yamamoto, Bose flew to Tokyo. Both submarines returned safely to their bases.

“It took us three full months.” Abid Hasan said, “To travel from Berlin to Sumatra, every minute of which was full of dangers. We were taken in two submarines, one arranged by the Germans and the other by the Japanese. The long time taken for the journey was due to the fact that we had to remain submerged throughout the day and could only travel at night, as all along we were going through dangerous zones”. When we boarded, we found that the U-boat had space enough for only one bed. It was a small room where the entire crew, the doctors, and we all sat together. We sat up all 24 hours, and we sat there motionless. There was no elbow room at all. We felt cramped; it was like solitary confinement. Even in jail, the living conditions would be better.

Penang Submarine Base

The U-boat base at Georgetown ceased to exist as a functional base after October 1944, when all U-boats transferred to either Djakarta or Surabaya due to intense Allied submarine activity off Penang, accompanied by aerial bombing and mining, since it was within range of both Kharagpur-based B-24 Liberators and B-29 bombers. A raid by mine-laying Liberators in October 1944 blocked the harbor entrance. The last submarine to leave was the German U-843 in December 1944. After the transfer of the two Indians to Japan, the I-29 continued on and dropped many Indian revolutionaries, saboteurs, and radiomen on Indian shores, on other voyages, as we discussed previously.

The I-29 left for Europe in November. Arriving off the Spanish coast in March 1944, the submarine and her escort of four German torpedo boats and eight German Junkers aircraft came under attack by the RAF and US Liberators. The Allied code breakers had been tracking the I-29 and located it off the Spanish coast.

The I-29, then commanded by Kinashi, survived the attack and arrived at Boudreaux in occupied France, where Kinashi received an Iron Cross from Hitler. The I-29 departed Lorient in April 1944 with a significant amount of German technology, including a Walter rocket engine and plans for the jet-powered Me 262, as well as a rocket-powered Me 163. It is also mentioned (HistoryNet - Hackett) that it carried a quantity of Uranium Oxide (it is not clear whether it was for a bomb or other Japanese research) though it seems unlikely. Loaded with vital military plans and hardware, and 20 Enigma machines, the I-29 departed Lorient on April 16. It arrived in Singapore on July 13^th. The blueprints and paper cargo were flown to Tokyo.

Desperately tracking the U-boat and with some knowledge of what the submarine was carrying, the Allied code breakers waited for the I-29 to break radio silence. On July 20^th, Kinashi transmitted their plans to Tokyo, which were intercepted by a US Navy radio unit. Orders were passed to Commander Wilkins, who was sailing the USS Tilefish in tandem with subs Rock and Sawfish.

On July 25^th, the I-29 surfaced, and that was when Commander Alan B. Banister’s Sawfish sighted the sub. Banister fired four torpedoes at I-29. Three of them hit, and the Japanese submarine exploded and sank almost immediately. Three Japanese sailors blown off the sub, swam to a Philippine island and reported the sinking. Although the engine prototypes were lost, the Japanese, using the blueprints that had been air-dropped, developed the Nakajima Kikka (orange blossom) jets based on the Me-262 and the Mitsubishi J8M Shusui (sword stroke) based on the Me-163.

Despite the loss of the I-29, the Yanagi missions continued. While jet engine technology managed to reach the Japanese, Uranium oxides did not, fortunately.  Another story involving Japanese attempts to mine and ship the material from Thailand will follow later. While it is not established that the I-29 carried Uranium dioxide, other Yanagi subs, such as U 234, which moved a significant amount of strategic equipment and specialists, supposedly carried a large amount of Uranium dioxide stored in lead caskets, while Nazi Germany was collapsing and in its death throes.

The story of the U-234, which surrendered to America, is, for those interested, a fascinating read. Did the captured uranium become part of the payload of the ‘Little Boy’ dropped at Hiroshima? Joseph M. Scalia’s book Germany's Last Mission to Japan: The Failed Voyage of U-234 discusses the topic.

The story of Bose, who arrived in Tokyo, his work with the IIL, INA, and the creation of the Azad Hind Fauj with volunteers and Indian soldiers captured by the Japanese, is well known; however, there are many lesser-known details. We will uncover them along the way. The story of the girl who was involved in getting a Congress radio repaired (and which reported about the Japanese submarines prowling the Malabar shorelines) will be one of them and will follow shortly.

References

More than Merchants – Khoo Salma Nasution

His Majesty’s opponent – Sugatha Bose

Yanagi Missions – Bob Hackett

Abid Hasan Safrani: Netaji’s Comrade-in-Arms, Ismat Mehdi and Shehbaz Safrani

Relevant articles

On and Under the High Seas – Maddy’s Ramblings

The Indian Swaraj Institute (ISI) and the 5th column- Maddy’s Ramblings

The fate of the Penang ISI's 5th column- Maddy’s Ramblings

Those interested in seeing the innards of a U-boat, click this link

And the inside of a Japanese submarine – see this video

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The Story behind ‘Jai Hind’

A Victory slogan and Abid Hasan Safrani

Many articles and books mention that Champakaraman Pillai was the originator of the usage of “Jai Hind,” and I was also misled by it initially. Though Pillai was a hardcore patriot who fought for Indian independence from Berlin during the early WW1 years and until he died in 1934, he was barely involved with Subhas Bose and the INA. Pillai’s seminal work with the Indian Independence committee is somewhat misunderstood and exaggerated, and requires more research to be retold, which I promise to do another day, as it is still a work in progress. However, I had promised to clear the air about the slogan Jai Hind, and that is our topic for the day.

The term Jai Hind was surely the handiwork of Abid Hasan (Safrani), who was Bose’s 1940s confidante and fellow traveler for some years thereafter.  To get to the story, let us first retrace Bose’s trips to Europe and Safrani’s arrival at Berlin. Bose had, after a couple of arrests and jail terms, become quite sick and suspected to be suffering from Tuberculosis (potentially contracted in Mandalay prison in 1925), was advised to have it diagnosed and have it treated at a European sanatorium. It took a while for him to get permission to travel, following which he was packed off to Europe from the prison in February 1933, in a vessel bound for Italy.

After a few days in Rome and Venice, he was interned at the Furth sanatorium in Vienna, where the TB diagnosis was confirmed. In June, he traveled to Prague, and it was there that he met ACN Nambiar, who had been living there after being expelled from Berlin, following which Bose visited Poland. In July, he traveled to Berlin, where the ailing Bose met very few Germans of importance, and went back to Vienna to take care of an ailing Vallabhai Patel. His travels continued around Europe, and he visited Germany again in 1934, demanding an end to Hitler’s Anti Indian propaganda. Returning to Vienna, he met his future partner Emilie Schenkel, who became his stenographer. He then spent time dictating his work, ‘Indian Struggle’, and getting it proofed for his publisher. When an urgent telegram arrived informing him of his father’s illness, Bose departed for Calcutta in 1934, where his father passed away shortly thereafter. Returning to Vienna in April 1935, he underwent gall bladder surgery and spent his recovery time at Karlsbad and Bad Gastein (the thermal baths – or springs which supposedly had radioactive traces and curative sulfurous mineral water). Later, he visited an ailing Kamala Nehru, who was spending her last days at Badenweiler. Here he also met Nehru and Indira, who had arrived to be at Kamala’s side.

From 1933 to 1936, under watchful British eyes, he travelled around Europe, rebuilding his health and developing contacts with political movements of both right and left to further the cause of Indian independence. In April 1936, Bose returned to India.

It was during this sojourn in Europe that Bose met Abid Hasan, an engineering student at Berlin. Abid Hasan, a Hyderabadi, after schooling at the St George’s Grammar school, entered the Nizam College, only to leave and join Gandhiji’s Congress Volunteer corps in Bombay, and later moved to Sabarmati, where he was arrested and briefly imprisoned. In 1935, he left India to study engineering in Berlin. It appears that Hasan saw Bose in a meeting in Berlin in 1936, but they never met formally.

As we know and studied earlier, in 1941, Bose, who had returned to India, slipped out and went to Afghanistan, donning the guise of Italian Orlando Mazzotta, traveled across to Russia, Austria, and Germany. It was during Bose’s second trip to Berlin in the Italian guise that Abid Hasan met Bose for the second time. When his friend N ‘Gopu’ Swami told him that a strange-looking bloke was visiting Berlin and talking about India, Hasan decided to check him out.  NG Swami, then working with Siemens, brought along Abid Hasan to a meeting with Bose, and they hit off famously after that and started the Free India Center in Berlin. Abid Hasan and Swami offered their services, and when Abid mentioned that he could do more after finishing his last semester, Bose chided him for being selfish. Safrani and Swami later worked at Annaberg to recruit Indian POWs and create the Azad Hind Fauj, as well as receiving training in military and radio equipment. I will cover the interesting story of N.G. Swami in a forthcoming article.

During those days, the INA was in its formative phase. The flag was made up from the green, saffron, and white tricolor of the Indian National Congress. The springing tiger took the place of the Congress charka while Tagore’s Jana Gana Mana was chosen by Bose as the national anthem, as against “Bande Matram,” which he was not keen on (since Muslims would not accept Mother worship) and hence dropped, to ensure Muslim support. Nevertheless, the original Jana Gana Mana, being a Bengali song, took quite some time before its acceptance. It appears also that around that time, Abid Hasan took the surname Safrani after the saffron color, signifying Hindu solidarity.

In one of those meetings, Bose asked his team to find a common national greeting that would have a nice ring to it and would be acceptable to all religious communities. In a report quoting Hasan, I set about noting how each one greeted the other. We had the Garhwalis, Dogras, Rajputs, Sikhs, Muslims. . . . The Muslims were ruled out by their ‘Shalaam alekum’ and the Sikhs by their ‘Sat Sri Akal’. . . Some people who were supposed to be educated said ‘Namaskar’, but it was not a common greeting. Then I found that the Rajputs mainly greeted each other with ‘Jai Ramjiki ’. [This] ... is the common man’s language. So that began to appeal to me. Then I thought, why not ‘Jai Hindustan ki’? [then] why not ‘Hind’? . . . ‘Jai Hind’. Ah! That appealed to me.

There is also a mention that the initial suggestion from Hasan, who had an impish sense of humor, was “hello’ but as it was just a flippant remark, it was quickly discarded. According to Krishna Bose, Netaji immediately called MR Vyas and other Free India Center workers for a consultation. They kept saying Jai Hind to each other to get a sense and feel of how it sounded. Everyone liked it, and “Jai Hind” was approved.

In a speech/paper, ‘Netaji and the Indian Communal Question’ – Safrani, who penned it for The Oracle in 1979, explains the real purpose and implies it was a group activity that produced it. One serious hindrance in seeking emotional integration was the absence of a communal greeting. Namaste, Sat Sree Akal, Salaam, had all to be dropped, not finding common acceptance apart from the fact that each of these required the submissive bowing of the head, accompanied by the equally submissive movement of one or both the hands. We, on the contrary, wanted to stand erect with our heads lifted up when greeting even those much senior to us, as soldiers do when greeting their officers. Netaji prodded us on to find such a greeting, and we did so. “Jai Hind’ was spontaneously acclaimed, and it became our salutation and war cry common to every Indian.

A documentary titled The War of the Springing Tiger with voices of various INA personnel, including Abid Hasan, Lakshmi Sehgal, etc. (plus script from Illustrated Weekly March 1964) nails it –

Quoting Abid Hasan (time marker 15:50):

When I was called to Berlin one day, I told Mr. Bose: Sir, that we must have a national greeting.

He said: What is it? What is it?

I said: Hello. He was furious. He said: Hasan, I don't like cheap humor.

But he said: The idea is good. We must have a national greeting. You had better all think over it.

So, I thought of Jai Hind, and I tried it with a couple of friends of mine. They liked it.

So, I went back to Berlin and told Mr. Bose.

He immediately called everyone and said Try it out.

Everyone was saying Jai Hind, Jai Hind, Victory to India, Victory to India.

They liked it.

Soon enough, German reports termed the Indian legion units as the Jai Hind Volunteers and the movement the Jai Hind (Bose) movement.

Interestingly, Bose was always conscious of the need to have all communities working together. Abid Hasan led efforts to ensure that Hindu, Muslim, and Sikh soldiers dined together instead of eating in separate messes. Bose, when deciding to leave Germany and ally with Japan, had toyed with the idea of taking a Hindu, a Muslim, and a Sikh on his journey to Asia. When the German naval authorities told him that he could take only one aide, he picked Abid Hasan to be his companion. N.G. Swami, and four others with advanced training in wireless telegraphy, secret ink, and sophisticated radio transmitters, were to follow on MV Osorno in March.

Before we continue further with the story of Jai Hind, let us see the purported connections to Champakaraman Pillai, who was also a freedom fighter present in Germany and who passed away in 1934. When Bose tried to travel to Germany, Pillai, who was firmly entrenched in Berlin, had actively dissuaded the trip, believing that Bose would not be well received, which proved to be right. It is said that Pillai gave the slogan to Bose when they met in Vienna in 1933, but it seems unlikely. Moreover, though we have records of Pillai’s letter to Bose, the meeting in Vienna is unsubstantiated, as Pillai was quite ill at that time. They may have met in Berlin - MR Vyas mentions that Gen Werner Von Hentig met Bose through the good offices of Pillai.

Anyway, going by legends, Pillai coined the phrase in 1907 while schooling at Trivandrum, aged 16 years. Now, this is quite unlikely as Hindustani was never taught or spoken in Trivandrum during that period, and Pillai had little possibility of learning such terms (though in all fairness, he may have heard it much later at Turkey and from Arabs, who termed India as Al Hind or Hindistan), let alone coining something in such an alien language. Also, there are no mentions of the usage of Jai Hind being uttered or popularized between his coining it and the time when Bose used it in Germany. His letters to various people do not have the usage mentioned. But some reports, a couple of books, and speeches about him, much later, credit him with the usage, thus lending weight to the legend. I am convinced that Pillai was not the originator of the usage.

Jai Hind thus became the popular war cry during the INA years in SE Asia. However, during the war, it was considered a rallying cry and disapproved by the British. An INA archiver, Madan Gopal, states - When the British took Mandalay, they issued an order that no Indian was to use the greeting 'Jai Hind’. The result of this order was that boys and girls of our Balak Sena in Mandalay came out in the streets and greeted British officers with Jai Hind. After the INA debacle and demobilization post WW II, the usage was popularized by Congress and other Indian leaders.

Gandhiji was not too keen with the usage but waffled about it when asked by the United Press of India (Jan 1946), whether Jai Hind could be appropriately adopted in a non-violent scenario since it was coined as a war cry and replied - It does not follow that because Jai Hind was devised by Subhas Babu as a war cry in armed warfare, it must be eschewed in a non-violent action. On that basis, even Vande Mataram may have to be given up because there are instances of people committing violence with this cry on their lips. If a thing is essentially an evil, it becomes a positive duty to abjure it. In my opinion, Jai Hind and Vande Mataram have almost the same meaning. In one, we make obeisance to Mother India and thereby wish her victory; the other merely wishes her victory. There is no question of singing the two together. As I have said before, Jai Hind cannot replace Vande Mataram.

Interestingly, Nathuram Godse, who assassinated Gandhiji, listed in his manifesto (point 84) his disgust with Congress for appropriating Subhas’s INA slogan ‘Jai Hind’ and pretending to like INA and Subhas, resulting in the Congress election victory in 1945-46.

Nehru was asked this question once (Note that Nehru also knew Pillai and they had met in Berlin) by BC Roy, when traveling to the DVC together with Lady Mountbatten – He said – Yes, it was used by Subhas and the INA people. I used it for the first time in a meeting at Lucknow, about the time the INA was in the news, and it caught on marvelously. It is short and compact and conveys an idea – Victory to India, a New India. He also complained that Rajendra Prasad was, however, fond of using the alternate Jai Bharat!

Later, it became a standard utterance at the end of most nationalist and political speeches, and is a standard usage in the Indian armed forces.

In 1966, Indira Gandhi explained it succinctly – I call upon you to join me in raising the great slogan given to us by Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose. This slogan represents our strength, so join me in raising this slogan three times. Your voice is the voice of a great nation; it should reach the far-off mountains and every nook and corner of India. It should inspire courage and self-confidence in every Indian, Jai Hind, Jai Hind, Jai Hind.

Safrani was a man of the world, and many referred to Abid Hasan as ‘Jai Hind Safrani’, after the event. But Babu Rao, writing about Telangana heroes, states - One of the controversial issues was the designing of the National Flag. The Hindus wanted a saffron flag, while the Muslims insisted on Green. Later, the Hindus gave their insistence. Hassan was impressed by this gesture that he decided to append Safrani to his name. Since then, he became known as Safrani. I will, as I mentioned earlier, get to the South Indians around Bose, a subject skimmed over in most Bose and INA books, in more detail in forthcoming articles.

After his INA days and a prison sentence, Abid Hasan joined the IFS and over a long diplomatic career, served as the first secretary or Ambassador in several countries, including Egypt, China, Switzerland, Iraq, Syria, Senegal, and Denmark, before retiring in 1969 and settling back in Hyderabad. He passed away in 1984, unheralded and unsung.

Many years later, Gandhiji had become famous and was frequently associated with the loincloth he wore. Gandhiji’s wedding gift for Elizabeth’s and Philip’s royal wedding in November 1947 is even more interesting as he presented them (on Mountbatten’s recommendation) with what is termed as ‘fringed lacework cloth made of yarn spun by the donor on his spinning wheel’. The royal family was reviewing the presents later, and Queen Mary was horrified when she saw it, mistaking it for Gandhiji’s loincloth!! She stated to her lady (Pamela Hicks, Mountbatten’s daughter, confirms this event in a Telegraph article) in waiting – ‘Such an indelicate gift, what a horrible thing’!! Prince Philip stated that it was not and that Gandhiji was a great man, but Queen Mary had by then moved to stony silence…

This 12”x24” tray cloth (I thought it was 12” square) read "Jai Hind," and according to Pamela Hicks "Before we left, my parents saw Mahatma Gandhi and he told my father, 'I so want to give Princess Elizabeth a present, but I have given all my possessions away.' My father, however, knew he still had his spinning wheel, and he told Gandhi, 'If a cloth could be made from the yarn you have spun, that would be like receiving the Crown Jewels'.

Gandhiji wrote a note to accompany the gift. It stated- Dear Lord Mountbatten, This little thing is made out of doubled yarn of my own spinning. The knitting was done by a Punjabi girl who was trained by Abha’s husband, my grandson. Please give the bride and the bridegroom this with my blessing, with the wish that they would have a long and happy life of service of man… Yours sincerely M K Gandhi….

Despite what she thought the special gift was, Queen Elizabeth held onto it for years, and it popped up in royal exhibitions, but with a wrong translation – “Jai Hind- long live India”. The cloth was regifted by Queen Elizabeth to Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi when he visited the UK in 2018.

References

Netaji: Subhas Chandra Bose's Life, Politics & Struggle - Krishna Bose

Abid Hasan Safrani: Netaji’s Comrade-in-Arms - Ismat Mehdi, Shehbaz Safrani

Legendotes of Hyderabad – Narendra Luther

I Was Nehru's Shadow: From the Diaries of KF Rustamji (IP) Padma Vibhushan - Ed P.V. Rajgopal

Orlando Mazotta - the Adventures

The real Orlando Mazotta

Champaka Raman Pillai – The forgotten Freedom fighter 

Gandhiji’s Jai Hind gift – image courtesy Hindustan Times, and note transcript from Rebecca English’s photo of it. Abid Hasan - Siasat

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The King Who Never Returned

 A Raja Rani Story

Raja Ravi Varma, the great painter, on assignment to the Tondaiman palace for a month, could not have imagined that the little eleven-year-old sitting across from him, modeling for a remarkable painting (which you can still see and admire at Google Art), would go on to create waves across many continents after he grew up. The painting itself shows a demure little boy, resplendent in royal robes and jewels, wondering why he was being forced to sit through all this instead of playing in the royal courtyards. The story of that boy, will, without doubt, take you places. From the ancient principality of Pudukkottai, this tale will take you to England, Australia, New York, and France, places where the characters stayed during their tumultuous lifetimes.

Pudukkottai & Kallars

But before we get to all that, let us locate Pudukkottai, the Tondaiman rulers, the Kallar subjects, and their place in history. Though these rulers have connections to the ancient Pallava and Chola rulers and were involved with an area to the North of Madras, termed Tondaimandalam then, we are now focused on an area called Pudukkottai which came under their realm, much later. The Tondaiman (of Telugu extract) were the chieftains who ruled over Pudokkotai from the 17th to 20th century, an area gifted to them by the Sethupatis of Ramnad. As the story goes, Ranga Raya, a 17^th-century Vijayanagara king, was on his way to Rameswaram when one of his elephants ran amok. A local chieftain, Raghunatha Tondaiman at Karambakudi, managed to calm the angry elephant and was then bestowed with many an honor by the grateful Ranga Raya and given the title Avadai Raya Tondaiman. Later on, Raghunatha and his brother helped the Sethupathis of Ramnad in some regional conflicts, and it then that Pudukottai (some 1179 square miles of land), previously part of the Sethupathi domain, was gifted to them. After several wars against the Nayaks of Tanjore, Hyder Ali, Tipu, and so on, it became a British protectorate and eventually, a princely state of British India under the political authority of Madras Presidency.

The subjects were mostly Kallars, who were in those days, characterized as a tribe of thieves, though the Pudukkottai lot, in reality, were mostly cultivators. That they had an unsavory reputation even in the 19^th century, is quite clear in the definitions provided by Turnbull, Stuart, and Thurston, for British reactions to revolt or uprising resulted in the branding of these warrior class or watchmen (kavalkar) class of ‘Cullars’ or Kallars, thenceforth as dacoits, drunkards, devil worshippers, cattle thieves and blackmailers. These Kallars were experts in the usage of a boomerang-styled weapon called the vali or vellari thadi (bent stick) as well as indulgence in the sport of bull-taming called Jallikattu (much talked about these days). Among other legends, we can read that the Tirupati Tondaiman were also from the Kallar caste and originated from the union of Ahalya and Indra. Pudukkottai was the fifth princely state in the Madras Presidency, while the other four were Cochin, Travancore, Banganapalli, and Sandur! Another interesting reason behind the British alliance was due to the help they provided to the British in capturing the famous Kattabomman ( See article Cat, Kattappa and Dumby) in 1799. It was due to their unstinted support to the British, and their subservience that they obtained the privileged status of a princely state, without having to pay any tax or tributes to the British.  

Ramachandra Tondaiman

The Tondaiman royals seem to have administered their country reasonably well after the British resident William Blackburn helped them build the city, and accumulate considerable wealth during the 17^th and 18^th centuries. Our story starts with the larger-than-life Raja Sri Brahdamba Dasa Raja Ramachandra Tondaiman Bahadur from the 19^th century and the attention he invited from his British principals, due to his wayward lifestyle which stirred up quite a commotion at Madras.

Taking a cue from the Travancore rajas who they maintained a very cordial relationship, the Kallar Raja decided to elevate his ritual status from the commoner and thus in 1882, Ramachandra Tondaiman, the Raja of Pudukkottai, took the title “Brihadambal Das,” the servant of the goddess Brihadambal. The court had already become a ‘go-to place’ for Carnatic musicians, percussionists, and dancers, much like Travancore. Ramachandra who inherited the throne very young, ruled under the tutelage of the previous resident Blackburne’s brother John, until formal accession in 1838. Things were not going too well with his subjects, an agrarian uprising and a palace revolt followed in 1854, resulting in a British warning that they would remove the honorific ‘his Excellency’ while addressing him.

The main reasons were the excessive expenditure and wayward life of the young Raja and his family, and a major influence of his shrewd second wife Janaki. The British tried to bring about a semblance of control by routing all requests for expenses through his Sirkele (Prime minister or Dewan), but the expenditure continued to balloon and the Dewan sanctioned most of the Raja’s requests, until 1878. Incredibly expensive clothes and jewels continued to be purchased, while at the same time, the British, especially the Blackburne’s profited from extensive Indigo cultivation. But the need for reform was felt in the upper echelons and thus it was that the previous Dewan of Travancore, the rotund and strict, convent educated Sashia Sastri, was virtually forced on Pudukkottai, through the recommendations of yet another Travancore administrator – Dewan Madhava Rao. Sastri accepted the position and proceeded to Pudukkottai, not imagining for a moment that he would soon be embroiled in all kinds of palace intrigues.

Sastri did not walk into a welcoming embrace and faced resistance from the young Tanjore-born second wife of the Raja, Janaki Subbamma, who was not only quick-witted but also quite forthright. She refused to allow the Dewan to change long-standing practices in place, such as reducing staff and celebrations and got on to the warpath when the Sastri took a moral stance against the palace Devadasis and their association with the Royals (especially the young prince). As for Sastri, the extravagant, non-vegetarian, and wayward life in the palace was not something he could stomach. Matters came to a head when he decided to seal off the door provided for the Devadasi’s private entry into the palace. The simmering fight exploded and the queen decided to take action, with a few of her priests (parasites according to Sastri) goading her on. Not only did she try legal means, by hiring a British lawyer, but she also decided to start using black magic to oust the Dewan. Among the methods she tried was a ceremonial sacrifice where 1,000 cobras were hung by their tails over a fire of ghee, and chants to oust the minister were sung (Read the fascinating story as narrated by Manu Pillai).

Interestingly, the Travancore and Pudukkottai royal families maintained good connections, the princes often went to the Travancore forests for royal hunts, musicians were exchanged (one or two Rajas even spoke Malayalam), and so on. How Raja Ravi Varma ended up in Pudukottai is an interesting story. Sastri had chanced on the painter Ravi Varma at a railway station and invited him to the Tondaiman palace in 1879, which resulted in the first set of paintings of the Raja, his wife, the adopted son, and other paintings including the Durbar. He followed up with a second visit in 1886, creating more paintings of the raja and his family and the adopted prince.  We can observe the changing figure and countenance of the second Ranee in two paintings done by Ravi Varma between 1879 and 1886.

The Tondaiman palace was a house of intrigue during those years, and we can read how Sastri remained firm and it became clear that sacrifices, magic, and threats would not budge the firmly seated Sastri. The Ranee accepted defeat and Ramachandra Tondaiman also agreed to reforms, deciding to adopt and appoint his nephew as his successor. He passed away in 1886 and thus the little prince Martanda Bhairava Tondaiman now aged 11, (untainted by the Zenana!) took over a titular position, though Sastri held the reins to the state and the palace, till the young fella attained majority in 1894.

It was a period when the British decided that they should take guiding control of local princes and have them educated in the British style and morality, under Christian tutors (check out the article on the De la Hey case), As we saw in many cases, it was not a very wise step and proved to be a failure.

Martanda Tondaiman

Martanda, the subject of the British experiment grew up on Sastri’s lap but was quickly moved under the care of a specialist British tutor FF Crossley, at Kodaikanal. Both Martanda and his brother  Dorairaja, came under the care of Crossley. Crossley and RH Farmer brought them up as pukka gentlemen, but it seems did not quite instill in them the abilities required for the governance of Pudukkkottai! A newspaper reported that Kodaikanal was a sleeping princess till the touch of the prince (Martanda) woke her to life. Martanda and Do lived at a cottage named Woodville from 1890 and moved later to another called Nutshell. While Martanda moved to Britain for higher studies, Do continued to live at Kodai.

He was brought up as a truly Western subject and became proficient in sport, attire, and manners, he played tennis, cricket, and golf, practiced shooting and hunting, rode horses and automobiles, played chess and the banjo, and violin, held a drink well, knew the ballroom, shot guns and cued well at the billiards table. He was what the British desired, a ’pukka’ subservient Brown Sahib. By 1913, accolades and honors such as the GCIE were accorded to him, and for all practical purposes, the knighted young man had set an example for his British principals. Perhaps Sastri was not too happy with all this, but that was how it turned out, and strangely Martanda had little interest in his land and his subjects. Sastri had by now retired, was eulogized as the maker of modern Pudukkottai, as the great and wise steely administrator who brought about Devadasi reform in the Madras Presidency and placed on the throne an educated and suave young raja, after a lengthy period of decadence, waste, and intrigue.

Martanda learned of the lavish ways at the European playfields, the glam and the glitz, the gorgeous women, and loved high society life in Paris, Cannes, and London. Though he spent short stints at Pudukkottai, far and few, between long forays in Europe, he made sure that the Pudukkottai palace was revamped. He employed no less than 924 servants and commissioned a new palace for himself (finished in 1924), complete with a wine cellar, but he was rapidly becoming a disappointment to his British bosses.

Over time, Martanda was associated with many white women and was even engaged to an American at one time. But the British were getting quite disturbed by all this, for this was against the British moral code, and their perception of moral and racial superiority. This became clear when the young Martanda decided that he wanted a polished white girl for a wife, a decision when conveyed to his ‘bosses’, rudely jolted them. The British tried to dissuade him from marrying a white woman; they tried to tell him that such a union would not be accepted by his subjects, and succession would not be guaranteed for any offspring of such a union. From dissuasion, they tried threats and even suggested that he court a North Indian ‘fair’ princess, but Martanda remained adamant.

It was a trip down under, in March 1915, to Australia, which changed everything. Martanda plunged head-on into the social scene, was a regular at the races and parties, and well, one fine day he spotted a pretty woman hanging around in the hotel where he dined, and cupid struck! Martanda had found the woman of his dreams, and wasting no time, the smitten prince went after the fair lady, intent on wooing her to the altar. Molly Finks, for that was her name, and her sister, actually brought to Sydney by her mother, so that they could find suitors, acceded to Martanda’s advances.

Martanda wrote to Lord Pentland (Governor of Madras) that he had decided to marry Molly and received a reply admonishing him for doing what he had been banned from doing, but Martanda would have nothing of it and proposed to Molly, who accepted and their union took place in Melbourne in August 1915. A white Australia frowned at the sight of a very brown Martanda, calling him the Rajah of Bong, immaculately attired, standing next to a demure Molly Finks in a white gown. King George and Viceroy Harding fumed, while the Australian Governor-General was wondering if Molly would have to contend with other women in a harem (which he assumed existed). The press speculated that she may even be forced to wear a purdah (in Pudukkottai??) and wear a belly dancer dress!! Their honeymoon was in San Francisco and a few months later proceeded to Pudukkottai, where the royal couple was introduced to the Kallar subjects in a lavish procession.

The British at Madras were incensed and gave them a cold shoulder, not recognizing him or the new Ranee of Pudukkottai, formally. Molly was not welcome for any state visits or occasions, and that was not acceptable to Martanda, who despite many faults was devoted to his wife. Very soon, Molly realized that she had become pregnant and was beset with morning sickness, which intensified. Martanda tried moving her to Trichy, but things did not improve, and it was rumored that she was being poisoned with Oleander. Martanda decided to move to Ooty, but the Madras government did not sanction the funds for a custom house, opining that Molly’s presence would alienate the other whites at Ooty.

Molly and Martanda eventually moved back to Sydney, where their son Sydney Martanda was born in July 1916. Soon it became clear that the British would not allow Sydney to ever succeed Martanda as the Raja of Pudukkottai, and with that, any interest Martanda had in his kingdom, waned. He was soon in negotiations with the British on leaving it for good and settled for 20 Lakhs (then £15,000) annual pension plus a big lumpsum and after installing his brother Ragunatha as regent, departed India for good, lock, stock, jewelry, and barrel.

After the war, Martanda and Molly moved in 1922 to Cannes and settled in their villa named La Favorite, and while Martanda continued with his passion – horse racing, Molly preened in the balls and parties held by European and English high society. They were extravagant and well-attired, with the Ranee of Pudukkottai, as she called herself, immaculately attired in one of her prized sarees. In 1927, Martanda was hospitalized with abdominal pains and passed away, aged 53. Madras refused permission for a ceremonial cremation at Pudukkottai, and the body had to be finally cremated in London. At Pudukkottai, under the regency of Raghunatha, Rajagopala Tondaiman took over as the last ruler of Pudukkottai.

Molly, the rich widow, had many admirers and suitors, including the Aga Khan, but she did not accept any of them and lived her flamboyant life in London, while Sydney was sent off to a boarding school in Switzerland. The future Shah of Iran was his best friend for life, and Sydney completed his studies at Cambridge. In 1938, Sydney was involved in a horrific car crash that left him with a limp, and the marriage that followed failed, after the girl ran away with somebody else. Sydney Martanda had many other issues, and a habit of kleptomania, to make things worse. 

Sometime later, both of them moved to the US, and Sydney even became a citizen in 1943, and joined the US Army, while Molly worked for a fashion house. Sydney was later arrested and imprisoned in New York for alleged theft. His citizenship was revoked (both of them were investigated by E Hoover and the FBI) and after a stint in Cuba moved back (seems his citizenship was reinstated in 1980) to London to live with his mother, who had by this time, become a recluse and an alcoholic, beset with severe depression.

In 1967, Molly, suffering from bowel cancer, returned to Cannes to spend her last dying days there (You can still see her clothes at the Bath Museum of Costume, and many of her jewels are being auctioned now and then). Sydney passed away in 1984. Many still believe that huge sums and jewels belonging to them are locked away in banks.

In the end, it was a social experiment gone wrong and became the sad story of a Raja who never ruled over his subjects. While they faced hatred and racism, it should also be borne in mind that their decadent lifestyle was enriched by the hardworking, impoverished peasants of Pudukkottai.  Adding insult to this, the British even implied that this was what mixed marriages end up as, producing offspring with the worst traits from both races!

Pudukkottai today is a district like any other, with tourists checking out the palaces, hosting destination weddings at its durbar, and its musical legacies being written about and compositions sung. It also comes up in discussions about Ravi Varma, who, during two visits completed a few glorious paintings and left one or two unfinished.

Rao Bahadur PK Kunhunni Menon (1924-28) was appointed as the Pudukkottai Dewan, and it was his efforts that resulted in the establishment of the Pudukkottai Electric Supply Corporation Ltd. That was one of the last appointments by Martanda Tondaiman before he left India forever. VP Menon in connection with Pudukkottai’s integration into India, says - I met the Rajah (Rajagopla) only once when he was invited to Delhi to discuss the future of his state. He was just twenty-six at the time and seemed completely overwhelmed when the proposal to merge his State with Madras was put to him. Neither he nor his adviser had anything to say. The agreement was signed on 29 February 1948. The palace served as a hospital during WW II. Handing over the treasury in its entirety, Rajagopala vacated the palace for the Collectorate in 1972.

Tondaiman descendants are doing well; some are excellent administrators or sportsmen, winning medals. I am sure they look back now and then, and often read about the days of Ramachandra and Martanda, of Janaki and the snakes, and of course wonder about the prince who never saw India or his inheritance – Sydney Martanda. Interestingly, when Sydney was told by a friend about the latter’s visit to Pudukkottai in 1967, Sydney expressed surprise that the place and the palace even existed!

Though Coralie Younger did not imply it, it was a classic case of the crescent-shaped Pudukkottai Vali thadi or the Indian Boomerang. By design, this top-heavy weapon was not capable of, or ever designed to return. It symbolized the story of Martanda Tondaiman, the king who never returned.

The story of Pudukkottai’s Devadasis is one that I will get to another day. Those desiring to study Pudukkottai further should at least read Waghorne’s and Younger’s works, as well as Manu Pillai’s False Allies, though I have listed below all relevant works that I have looked at.

The Villa La Favorite, originally built for  Maxime Outrey, a French ambassador, and occupied by the Tondaiman’s, was recently acquired by an American family, captivated by the timeless elegance and prestige of the iconic property.

References
Molly and the Rajah: Race, Romance, and the Raj - Edward Duyker, Coralie Younger
The Raja's Magic Clothes Re-Visioning Kingship and Divinity in England's India - Joanne Punzo Waghorne
Wicked Women of the Raj: European Women Who Broke Society Rules and Married Life – Caroline Younger
The Hollow Crown: Ethnohistory of an Indian Kingdom - Nicholas B. Dirks
Joan of India – Suzanne Falkner
Courtly Indian Women in Late Imperial India - Angma Dey Jhala
The Indian Boomerang – Coralie Younger
A General History of the Pudukkottai State – A Radhakrishna Aiyar
Princely India and the British Political Development and the Operation of Empire - Caroline Keen
False Allies: India's Maharajahs in the Age of Ravi Varma - Manu Pillai
Black magic and a bureaucrat (Mint Lounge - 05 October 2019) – Manu Pillai

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Three Dewans and a Poetess

Sankara Variyar, Sankunni Menon and Govinda Menon – Dewans of Cochin 

Ikkavamma the poetess

Many families produced illustrious bureaucrats, but only one produced three dewans. They were  Sankara Variyar and his sons Sankunni Menon and Govinda Menon who served as the Dewans at Cochin during the second half of the 19^th century. Today there are buildings and roads named after them, but it will still be hard to find people who know about these stalwarts, the seminal architects of modern Cochin. The Thottekat family was connected to so many great people, and at one time, they owned large swaths of land, much of it given away since then or sold, a part of it to the Maharaja’s College. I am sure several readers would be interested in this story, yet again one of the rags to riches. Towards the end, you will find a small personal connection to yet another stalwart of this family, the well-known poetess, Ikkavamma.

Cochin until the time it was absorbed in the Kerala state was a kingdom ruled by Maharajas originating from the Perumbadappu Swaroopam. While the principalities of Kolathunad and Calicut fell to the British, Travancore and Cochin continued as Kingdoms until the 20^th century. Today, Cochin is a vibrant and bustling city, home to an active port and a main entry point for most tourists coming to visit ‘God’s Own Country’, as Kerala is termed.

A note about Dewans- Dewan (also spelled as Diwan) was a powerful government official or Chief minister of a princely state. From the 19th century onwards, the Dewan or Chief Minister was an administrator selected by the Raja under advice from the British Indian Government and assisted by a secretariat. While the king had all the authority, the Dewan was the chief executive who exercised this authority over all governmental departments. The Dewan was also in charge of the Raja’s bodyguard and remained the Chief Magistrate.

The three Dewans who laid the foundations of modern Cochin, covered today are T. Sankara Variyar (1840–1856), T. Sankunni Menon (1860–1879), and T. Govindan Menon (1879–1890). The three Dewans, father and sons, were responsible for the successful administration of the State during 1840-1890 (barring a short period of 1856 –1860 when a Venkata Rao was in charge), a period distinguished by high principles of personal conduct and loyalty to their State.

The Thottekat family traces their roots to Poomangalam in Trichur, then part of the Aiylur Swaroopam.

The Thottekad Taravad

TK Krishna Menon provides us with a glimpse of Tharavad’s setup. Near Karupatanna, where the Perumals went during the summer, is located Poomangalam, within which is the desam called Vellanganellur. This was where the Ayilur Swarupam was located and lorded by the Vazhapilli Nambudiuri. A well-to-do officer of the Nayar brigade married Kochulla Amma from Vellanganellur and moved to Ernakulam. His house was near the palace fort and covered some 10 acres. It is the Cochin homestead of this family which goes by the name Thottekat similar in meaning to Poomangalam – a forest of flowers. Kunjipilla Amma from Thottekat got married to Sankara Variyar. Over time, from 1837-1844, the old premises owned by the family were expanded and rebuilt and encompassed a sizeable area of today’s Ernakulam town.

Sankara Variyar

Originally from Edakunni in Trichur, he belonged to a family barely eking out their existence from temple earnings. Sankaran learned Sanskrit and with a recommendation of District Judge Sankara Menon, trudged the path to Ernakulam, aged 18. Here he found a job as a clerk in the appeal court, then moved to the Huzur office after the first Cochin Dewan Nanjapayya had been appointed in 1818. The minister became his mentor and within six years, Sankaran became the head Rayasam (Correspondence office) in the Dewan’s office, attaining proficiency in English. Just before his Rayasam posting, he had married Kunjipilla Amma from Thottekat and they had two sons ( a third passed away young), Sankaran and Govindan. Kunjipilla too passed away young, aged just 34 after which Variyar married a widow named Kunji Amma from the Kurupath Taravad, who had two children from her previous marriage, a son and a daughter. The daughter later married Variyar’s elder son Sankara Menon.

Sankara Variyar served under and for five Kings of Cochin and no part of his career proved to be easy. Facing continuous intrigues, and tremendous resistance from some Rajas or mostly their corrupt advisors, he tread along a difficult and stressful path throughout his career. An upright man, he insisted on complete honesty and brought about many changes, heralding a new era in Cochin’s administration and development. Though he was a deputy in the sovereign’s (Rama Varma 1828-38) reign, it was in the next Raja’s reign (Rama Varma 1838-44) that he became a Dewan following the commotion arising from the disagreement over the provisions for the previous Raja’s consort (See this link for details if interested).

Variyar was reluctant, but the Raja, interceded and assured him that he was in support of the arrangement, and that was when the 42-year-old Variyar became the Dewan of Cochin in 1840. As a person of outstanding morals and great character, he had the support of the many residents who followed such as Maclean, Douglas, and Cullen. A prosperous period followed, the financial conditions of the state improved, public works improved, expenditure was controlled, and the treasury had a surplus for the very first time. Roads, canals, waterways, culverts, lodges, and canals (drainage and irrigation) were constructed, in tune with the improvements being carried out in Malabar by Collector HV Conolly.

During the Elaya Raja’s reign (Rama Varma 1844-51) Variyar had to contend with a difficult monarch who could not stand the sight of the Dewan and did his best to get rid of him. Complaints were sent regularly to Madras, and a vexed Variyar decided to retire while the resident Cullen tried to placate Variyar with an offer to move him to Travancore, which Variyar would not accept. This continued till the recalcitrant Raja passed away in1851, but not after attempts were made to assassinate him (intrigued by one JW Harris) – as CA Menon states ‘with bullet and poison’. It is mentioned here and there that Sivaraman, a singer, tried to poison Variyar, to earn the favor of the Raja. Strangely just before he passed away, the Raja called Sankara Variyar and told him that his fight was on a matter of principle, which was - that the Raja had the right to hire and fire and was not to be considered secondary to a Dewan.

The next Raja’s reign was short (Vira Kerala Varma 1851-53) for he passed away while on a pilgrimage to Benares. During the next Raja’s ( Ravi Varma 1852-64) reign, though Variyar got through the promulgation abolishing slavery, his involvement in the Konkani temple idol smuggling affair, from Alleppey to Cochin, put him on the wrong side of Resident Cullen.

By then the aged administrator was ailing from the complications arising from diabetes and eventually passed away in Oct 1856.

Dewan Sankunni Menon

Sankunni Menon was the elder son of Sankara Variyar,  he grew up and spent his early schooling at Trivandrum. Later he interned with his father in Cochin and became a head clerk in his father’s office in 1844. Three years later he moved to Calicut as a translator at the Civil court. Sometime later, he married his stepsister Kurupath Narayani Amma, who however passed away in 1858, after they had two sons ( Sankunni and Krishnan)  and a daughter. Menon returned to Cochin and after passing the requisite exams became the Munsiff of Veliyangode, at a time when his father’s fame was at its apex.

Venkata Rau, who was Cullen’s protégé, succeeded Variyar as Dewan, and Sankunni Menon was transferred from Veliyangod to Ponnani in September 1857, and thence to Ernad in January 1858. It was when he was stationed at Ponnani that he lost his young wife, and soon after his transfer to Ernad, her only brother. In 1859, he was posted as a Deputy collector to Tirunelveli. It was not a healthy period for him, for he was beset with malaria and yearning to go back to Cochin.

Venkata Rau a highhanded administrator from Coimbatore, had to contend with the intrigues brought about by Sarvadhi Kariakar Parameswara Pattar of Nemmara and was retired in 1860 by the new resident Matby after Resident Cullen retired. Pattar tried to short-circuit the decision using the Raja’s influence and promote a Judge and at the same time appoint Govinda Menon as Dewan Peishkar, but Matby decided that Sankunni was the man for the job.

Thus, Sankunni Menon became the Dewan in 1860 and had several issues to sort out as soon as he was appointed.  He had to contend with the Konkani populace who were against succession fees, then the royals due to their using treasury money for expensive ritual ceremonies and celebrations, and finally with Parameswara Pattar, a perpetual thorn in his flesh, poisoning the ailing Raja against him. Eventually, the Raja passed away in 1864 and Pattar was quickly deported to Chittur. Following Pattar was another irksome and corrupt character named Cheruvattur Narayanan Nambudiri. He handled most of these with aplomb and became well-known as a just and honest administrator.

He employed qualified people, replaced customary laws with English Common law, and carried out many development projects including the metaling of many roads in the state.  During the reign of (Rama Varma 1864-88) the next Raja, trade relations, customs, and tariffs were formalized between British Malabar, Cochin, and Travancore. Revenues and expenditures were controlled and new revenue streams were established to create a good surplus. Though a later Raja implemented the rail link, Sankunni Menon had mooted the idea. Many schools were opened, supervisors were appointed, and libraries were started. A gazette was published documenting the state’s annual report, and in general, one could say that Cochin was quickly posting a new and modern look.

However, this hectic career was affecting his health and by 1872, he suffered from various illnesses, first with his bowels resulting from poor eating habits, then problems with his heart and later insomnia, forcing him to announce retirement plans,  which were quickly thwarted by both the residency and the royalty. His life became a daily struggle, and he kept asking the Raja to appoint his protégé Sankara Aiyar as his successor, but the Raja had no confidence in Ayyar and refused to have a foreigner, a Paradesi Brahmin in power, more so since Aiyar did not quite understand Malayalam.

The Raja then surprised everyone by recommending Govinda Menon, Sankunni’s brother as his successor, and Sankunni finally retired in 1879. Interestingly, for all his virtues, he was never an accomplished orator and avoided public speaking, though quite social when ensconced with his close circle of friends. Sankunni Menon passed away in Aug 1883, following a paralytic stroke.

Lord Salisbury, the Secretary of State for India wrote “If all native States in India were administered as was Travancore by Madhava Rao and Cochin by Sangunni Menon, the British Government would have to look to their laurels”.

Lawson said -  The Rajah in former times used to take what he wanted, upon a verbal understanding of accounting for the loan on some distant day, the arrival of which, it may be guessed, was not a wise subject of conversation to a despotic monarch; but now he receives the fixed allowance, and transfers the entire care of the exchequer to his Dewan. This minister has, consequently, great influence in the country, and it is according to his character rather than to the Rajah's that national prosperity results. The balance at the credit of Cochin in British bonds was almost wholly saved by Shungra Warrier, the penultimate Dewan, an able, upright man, whose eldest son, Shungoony Menon, has just been appointed to this distinguished office amid universal satisfaction.

Dewan Govinda Menon

Sankunni Menon was succeeded by his brother Govinda Menon, a man of calm and placid demeanor. Though Govindan had been connected to the Castor-Mudaliyar blackmail scandal, he managed to get away from it with some help from his brother Sankunni Menon. Later he was instrumental in coffee planting at Nelliyampati and after a career running parallel with his elder brother was contemplating retirement when he was suddenly recommended to the post of Dewan. Achyutha Menon mentions that he sacrificed his official prospects on many occasions only to make things easier for his father and elder brother.

Though not much talked about, his administration was also very good, he established the court of appeal, cleared up boundary disputes with Travancore over the Idiyara matter, and the right for Travancore to nominate the Tachudaya Kaimal to manage the Koodalmanickam temple, etc. The school system was better organized, standards were improved, new hospitals were built, and finances were streamlined. Raja Rama Varma died in 1888, after reigning for 24 years. When Raja Veera Kerala Varma 1888 – 1895 took the throne, Govinda Menon announced his retirement in 1889 after ensuring that he too left a sizeable surplus of Rs 10 lakhs (His brother left 16 lakhs, and his father 10.5 lakhs) in the coffers, when he left office. No other Dewan managed to exceed 3-4 lakhs. Govinda Menon passed away in 1901.

The Taravad split

After his third son’s passing, Variyar and his immediate family moved to another house North of Thotekkat, and in 1844, Thotekkat itself was renovated into an 8-kettu with three bathing tanks. At the same time, the family split into two, with one of them building a residence to the East of the house, calling themselves the East Tavazhi. The East Tavazhi wanted a partition of the properties, and Sankunni Menon agreed to the plan, but action was deferred. After his death, Govinda Menon from the West faction and Neelakanta Menon, the Karanavar of the East branch drew up the partition deed in 1884. There are many more details and asides to this but are deliberately not recounted here, as they are family matters of no public interest.

Many other luminaries were part of the family or married into it over time, such as TKK Menon, Mannathu Padmanabhan, Madhavi Amma, Kollengode Vasudeva Raja, Naraynana Menon, Chettur Sankaran Nair, etc. just to name a handful. The TDM Hall is named after them, and roads are named after the family - Thottekat Road and possibly the Dewans Road. There is so much more to add, but it would only tire the lay reader.

Thottekkad Ikkavamma, the first woman dramatist of Kerala

Finally, a small personal connection to the Thottekat family – It was Thottekat Ikkavamma (1865-1916) who wrote the play Subhadrarjunam, way back in 1891, to become the first woman dramatist of Kerala.

Her play was reviewed and introduced to the public with a foreword by my great-grandfather Vidwan Manavikrama Ettan Thampuran. He says – There cannot usually be more than five scholars among some 500 contenders, and even if we did find a hundred scholars, there cannot be more than five among them who are good poets. Considering all that, is it not astonishing that here we have among us a great Sanskrit poet among women, a gender generally considered ignorant?

While CP Achyutha Menon (Ed. Vidyavinodini) thought she merited the title of Thunchath Ezhuthacchan among women, Chandu Menon commented that he had not found any work as pleasing and as enjoyable as ‘Subhadrarjunam’, and Kerala Varma Valiyakoyi Thampuran added, “I have absolutely no reservation in stating that ‘Subhadrarjunam’ excels all other plays written in Malayalam till now in sheer simplicity and sweetness.”

The Poetess herself found all this quite silly and asks the reader as she starts her work – mind you, this was in 1890, when it was a rarity as Ettan Thampuran says, for women to master poetry. She asks - Didn’t Bhama, Krishna’s consort wage war? Was it not Subhadra who held the chariot’s reins and can you not see Queen Victoria ruling over this land? And so, can women not pen good poetry?

She went on to author nine more works, passing away in 1916.

C Achyutha Menon, the biographer of the three Dewans, concluded effusively in 1922 - If Cochin enjoys the reputation of being one of the best governed Feudatory States in India, she owes it primarily to Edakunnni Sankara Variyar and his son Thottekat Sankunni Menon, who held the Dewanship of the State from 1840 to 1856, and 1860 to 1879 respectively. The foundation of the modern administration of the State was laid and its basement was built by the former, while its superstructure was raised by the latter. The work of their successors, who were most of them worthy men, was more or less of the nature of plastering, painting, and decorating and of executing annual repairs.

All in all, an illustrious family, and in many ways the very pillars of Modern Cochin.

References
Dewan Sankara Variyar of Cochin – C Achyutha Menon
The Life of T Sankunni Menon-Dewan of Cochin - C Achyutha Menon
The days that were – T K Krishna Menon
The Rajarshi of Cochin – IKK Menon
Cochin State Manual
Maharajas College Handbook
Progress Of Cochin – TK Krishna Menon
Kerala District Gazetteers: Trichur, Ernakulam
History of Medieval Kerala – VKR Menon
Subhadrarjunam – T Ikkavamma

Pictures – Variyar & Ikavamma – Thottekat family album, rest courtesy C Achyutha Menon.

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Abu Bakr and Lamba Kaka

A story from Victoria Point – Burma- May 1942 – WW II

Japan entered the war with an attack on the American Pearl Harbor naval base at Hawaii, on Dec 7th1941. It was a devastating attack, launched mainly from Japanese aircraft carriers, destroying many ships in the American Pacific fleet. Their primary intention was to cripple the Western command, thereby preventing the Pacific Fleet from interfering with the Japanese conquest of the Dutch East Indies and Malaya. Having succeeded in that effort, the Japanese commenced with the plan to bomb Burma’s Victoria Point next and secure an entry into the Burmese mainland.

Strategically, the Japanese aims were multifold and involved the destruction of other key Allied strongholds of SE Asia, in the march towards India. The Japanese intent was to get to the oilfields in Burma, a strategic foothold to regroup and ensure they had the resources before the grand entry westwards across India. Simultaneous forays into Malaysia and Singapore resulted in rapid Allied capitulation. As events galloped on at a fast clip, Kuala Lumpur fell in Jan 1942 and Singapore was surrendered in Feb 1942. The British bastions had been breached, and the victorious Japanese were on the rampage, headed for Rangoon. Our story takes us to the Southern borders of Burma.

On the night of 7th/8th December 1941, the Japanese invaded Thailand by land and sea, and so gained possession of airfields and assembly areas for the invasion of Burma. The first blow fell on 11th December, when an air attack was made on Tavoy in Tenasserim. On the 12th a Japanese detachment crossed the frontier in the extreme south, their objective being Victoria Point, the site of one of the airfields on the Singapore route. Victoria Point and Mergui both suffered air raids on the 13th, and the former was evacuated on that day, although the Japanese did not occupy it until the 15th. From there they moved slowly up the coast and after a series of engagements Rangoon fell on 7th March 1942, as the British started their retreat to India.

Hundreds of thousands of Indian workers in SE Asia were now in full flight across the land borders into India, their ancestral home. Their belief was total that the British Raj would do nothing to help them, for they saw no support either at Malaya, Singapore, or in Burma. Subhas Chandra Bose was still in Germany and the Azad Hind had not yet been formed.

The Japanese had full control of the air space and the seas between SE Asia and India. The only way for the refuges to India, though hazardous and distant, was by land. They streamed Northwards from Singapore, and Malaya. After a perilous trek, survivors reached the southernmost border point of Burma, a place which was in those days called Victoria Point (Kawthoung these days), an area already in Japanese hands, and just across Thailand.

At Victoria Point, and many other sleepy towns along the way, the war quickly brought about huge turmoil. Within days, these places were teeming with Japanese, fleeing Indians, and shortly thereafter, many Australian prisoners of war. Before we get to Victoria Point, there, let us go back a few decades and check out the demographics, and the life of the many people from Malabar, mainly Moplahs, settled in Burma

The worker migrations from Malabar started during the famine years in the final decades of the 19^th century. Another reason for this was the antagonism and the oppressive situation prevalent in Malabar after the 1921 Moplah revolt. Many a Moplah ended up in Burma, where the rice mills and the paddy fields were slowly coming into Chettiar hands, the financial/banking system being mostly in their control, and getting a job in Burma, as a menial laborer was quite easy and lucrative. The Bafaqih and Jifri Sayyids had their warehouses and business in Burma, and they employed quite a few Malabari Muslims for port and mill jobs.  Others found work in British plantations. A network was thus in place, kinsmen could be found, and one could get started quickly. Another incentive was that once they earned some money and stability, one could even acquire a local mistress.

During 1900-1938, a total of 11,515,000 Indian migrants (derogatively or not, but called kallas) went to Burma. In 1901 the number of Indians in Rangoon increased to 120,000 i.e., about half of the population of that. In 1941 out of the total Burmese population of 16,823,798, Indians constituted 918,000 or 5.4%. On average they made between 10/ to 40/-Rs per month. Though these comprised mainly Telugu, Oriya, and Tamil Bengali labor, quite a few were from Malabar, mainly Moplahs. While a few worked in the menial labor category, many ran tea shops, restaurants, and provision shops. These were the kakas as they were termed in Burma, Mayala, and Singapore, and the people we will be talking about. (Note: This article is narrowly focused on the Moplah worker from Malabar)

According to the intrepid journalist M Sivaram – People from Kerala were dominant among Burma’s white-collar workers, governmental and commercial. It was a common joke that every other man in this category came from Ottapalam. And wherever you went in rural Burma, the first Indian you met was a ‘kaka’ from Kozhikode or Koyilandi, running a modest but popular tea shop.

The Cholia Muslim Association was established on October 20, 1912, by Malabar Muslims, following which The Malabar Muslim Association was established in 1918. In Rangoon, the Malabar Muslims conducted a social club together with the Malabar Hindus, the Malabar Club, which started activities in 1913, some years before the Muslim Malabar Association came into being. In 1931, Malayalees in Burma totaled 11,343 males and 875 females. As documented by Nalini Ranjan Chakravarti, there were 3,205 ‘Malabaris’ and 9,441 kakas (Moplahs) in Burma, then. Interestingly, there were so many Malabar Moplahs in Burma, that when Abdurahman Sahib decided to start a newspaper in Calicut, he went to Burma to solicit collections. If you recall, Kozhikode Abdul Khader, did a stint in Burma. On the darker side, whenever there were racial riots in Burma, kaka shops were the first to be looted or damaged.

Kaka - Etymology

Moplah (Mapilla) people of the Malabar Coast constitute Kerala’s Muslim community. Moplah men are sometimes referred to as Kaka. An elderly Muslim man is respectfully addressed as Kaka (Ikkaka with i silent) with respect, while a woman is addressed as Thatha (Ithatha) in Malabar. One can also connect Kaka to the North Indian term of respect -for paternal uncle, while it was used to address a brother in Archaic Farsi. For all practical purposes, the tea shop owner and the ubiquitous grocer or provision supplier were called Kaka’s, and their small establishments were called Kaka shops in Burma and Malaya.

The escapees from Singapore

After the war, several accounts of valor and struggle surfaced, and Lt MM Pillai’s small book is just one among them. Corroborated by his debrief accounts, we come across the mentions of two brave Moplah traders in the war zone and their selfless actions, each straddling the waters separating Burma and Thailand. What is remarkable is that while ANZAC survivors failed to mention such acts when writing tomes about their POW days, Pillai and the other escapee Radhakrishnan did not fail to remember these simple shopkeepers.

The Japanese whom the British remarked – ‘could not even shoot straight’ had brought them to their knees and by February 15, it was all over. Mark Pillai from the # 45 Army Troops Company became yet another among the thousands of prisoners-of-war following the fall of Singapore. Pillai and many others were packed into 13 prisoner-of-war camps on the humid, mosquito-infested island. But Pillai and two of his friends Radhakrishnan and Natarajan decided to escape.

Why escape? Food was becoming scarce (camp rations comprised two chapatis a day and a cup of black tea). Brutal punishments such as beheadings were not uncommon. Already, the Japanese had machine-gunned thousands of Singapore’s Chinese residents. The prisoners now faced the prospect of torture, and slow death, following potential transfer as slave laborers to distant Thailand, Borneo, and Manchuria.

Pillai was to become the first Allied Officer to escape from Changi and make his way back to India accompanied by Radhakrishnan, a medical officer, traversing all of 3,000 miles. They traveled roughly a thousand miles on foot, a thousand miles by boat, and a thousand miles by train to make this epic journey to freedom.

Pillai & Radhakrishnan’s 3000-mile journey

Radhakrishnan, having sent his family back home before the war managed to rustle up 600 $,  selling his belongings, while Natarajan and Pillai had 100 $ between them. Finally, after 11 weeks as prisoners of war, on May 6, Pillai and Natarajan slipped out of their camp at Bidadari and linked up with Radhakrishnan to commence their flight to freedom. Wearing dhotis, long shirts, and Gandhi caps, they boarded a train with tickets to Penang in Malaya, posing as onion and potato traders.

After a long and arduous trip through Singapore and Malaya, the three escapees arrived at Pak Nam Ranong, in Thailand, then called Siam. It was here they chanced on Abu Bakr Kaka and Lamba Kaka, the two shopkeepers.

Abu Bakr Kaka

At Ranong on the Siam side, they met Abu Babr Kaka, a Moplah shop owner, considered quite influential in the neighborhood. Pillai says - Abu Bakr was a rough diamond, a person of strong likes and dislikes, yet with sterling qualities. He took charge of us almost immediately. Abu Bakr gave us a lot of encouragement and promises and helped us, to the best of his ability. He secured some cheap lodgings and introduced us to another friend of his who was running a tea stall.

They stayed there, lying low for a couple of days, obtaining information from BBC & AIR broadcasts, waiting to cross over to Burma. Not divulging that they had Military antecedents or about the prison escape, they lied to Abu Bakr that they were Tamil civilians (even though Radhakrishnan was Telugu) trying to get to their relatives living in relative safety at Moulmein.

Pillai explains their perilous situation – Our funds were running low, if only Abu Bakr had been told the truth about our financial conditions, no doubt he would have saved us the money we spent on our boarding. He thought that money was no problem to us. We dared not disillusion him, for he would have then wondered why, if we were so broke, we should concern ourselves with our kith and kin across the border.

After some persuasion by his wife who was partial to Indians, the Japanese (Burmese man) Counsel at Ranong granted the three escapees, visas to go to Victoria Point across the waters in Japanese-occupied Burma. Chanting India and Gandhi, flashing their IIL passes and visas, the three alighted at Victoria Point. It was here that they met Lamba Kaka, referred to them by Abu Bakr on the Siam side.

That these Moplahs were in regular touch and knew each other is quite clear. Such shopkeepers formed loose trading networks, especially so since vegetables and provisions were moved in boats from Siam to Burma.

Lamba Kakka

Pillai and his two compatriots walked up the slope and the narrow street to the biggest of the provision stores around. There they met Lamba Kaka, a tall, thin Moplah. After some refreshments, the three sat down in the store to cool their heels and observe the goings on, continuing to stay with Kaka for the next two days. They saw Indians, very few Burmese, and quite a few Australian prisoners of war, but they never learned Kaka’s real name.

Quoting Pillai -  Whoever he was and whatever he did before the war, he was now a changed man, and making money was certainly not what motivated this towering figure. The Japanese garrison was guarding a bunch of Australian prisoners, forced to labour at some important war project somewhere near Victoria Point. During the rest period, the guards allowed a few of these miserable POWs to roam a while on the only street, hoping to get some food. Many of them came to Lamba Kaka's establishment often singly and occasionally in groups, not exceeding three in number. Lamba Kaka's kindness to them needed to be seen to be believed. He handed out the goods, accepting whatever money was offered to him. Kaka never missed espying any penniless Aussie looking longingly at some tinned foodstuff. He would quickly collect a few tins of fish, cheese, butter, or anything edible that was handy and thrust them into the pockets of the dumbfounded prisoner. The stories of his generosity travelled like Wildfire among the prisoners. I saw many an Australian n enter the shop and come out carrying an abundance of food items far beyond his means. Some of them were too overcome with gratitude to express it in words.  There was no need. Their eloquent eyes said everything better than worlds could.

Lamba Kaka's open-handed charity was unsullied by ostentation or any other selfish motives. His general store must have been a source of steady income earlier. I did not find out how long he had been in business, nor could I assess the extent of his wealth. But the transactions he carried out during the few days that I was there would certainly have made serious inroads into his reserves. With the cessation of all mercantile shipping in these waters, his turnover must have dropped down to a trickle - the little that could come from the interior of Siam via Ranong.

I never could find out what motivated this Moplah to become Victoria Point's fountainhead of charity. All I could think of was that Nature had infused in him a sense of unassailable optimism and unparalleled kindness. He had no thought for his immediate safety, let alone the distant future, I sincerely hope that no harm ever came to him and that he was able to regain the wealth he had fed to the river of charity. 

The official report in the archives also has no name for Lamba Kaka.

It simply describes them thus…

Abu Bakr Kaka - A sturdy loyal man, running an eating shop. Of generous proportions, fair, bold, and can speak a number of languages. He has lived in Siam for many years. Very dependable type.

Lamba Kakka – Has a pock-marked face, is brusque and blunt in speech but has a good height. Intelligent and loyal. Can speak eight languages. Is giving free cigars to Australian POWs.

In the official report, the escapees state - Whilst in a provision shop at Victoria Point an Australian sergeant came for stores. The prices were high, but the shopkeeper was pro-Ally, and he was allowed to take Rs. 15 worth of goods free and was told to tell his friends that they could do the same. The Australian informed us that by tipping the Japanese sentry 20 cents a time he was allowed out. He gave his name as Eric Merrill and said he came from Perth. There had been talk amongst the P.OW. of escaping but it was heard that this was too risky as it meant almost certain death. That evening, with the aid of the shopkeeper, we were able to catch the Japanese boat to Mergui.

The report also says - The South Indian Mohammedan predominates in the merchant section of the community. These are men of moderate incomes and had business and had business dealings with the Japanese but were invariably loyal (to the British). The richer merchants were Mohammedans from Bombay like the Suratees and they too were loyal.

The escapees got through to India, thanks to many of these and other helpers, after seven months. Pillai & Radhakrishnan arrived at the Indian border on Aug 2^nd, and in Delhi on Aug 25^th. Natarajan remained in Burma.

Markandam Murugesan (Mark) Pillai and Radhakrishnan were awarded Military cross medals, and while Mark continued service in the Army, retired as a brigadier in 1965, and passed away in 1988,  Radhakrishnan succumbed to illness in 1945.

The fates of Abu Bakar and Lamba Kaka are not known. Perhaps they survived the war, and their progeny are living in the region, perhaps they too went back to India following the war, like many others. Over half a million Indians trekked home from Burma after Rangoon was bombed, with little official help, the British rulers simply abandoned them. It is a sad story, which I promise to retell, another day. Many thousands perished along the way, and I can only hope these two were not among the dead.

Pillai never went back to SE Asia following the war, I guess he had enough.

I find it sad that many in India keep on cribbing about religions and minorities and treat one or the other shabbily with revenge in their mind and driven by tales and happenings from ancient history! I wanted to simply tell this story to those who did not know that there was a time, a time when the world was at war and when such trivial thoughts hardly mattered. Simple people like Lamba Kaka and Abu Bakr viewed life and people differently, they were driven by humanity, not by hate, divisive thoughts, nationalities, or religion.

Notes

Burma has fascinated me, for years. I wanted to visit Rangoon and study the stories of the Indian workers during the 1930s, the war period as well as the INA years in Rangoon, but it never worked out. Amitav Ghosh’s fine work  ‘The Glass Palace’ was a consolation, when published. The recent earthquake brought many of the events I had studied during 2018-19, to the fore of my mind, and here I am with this small tale.

Pillai’s notes mention Australian POWs who had been at Victoria Point for some months, and of a larger group’s impending arrival on May 23^rd. The first of the 'A' Force prisoners started arriving on 20^th May (4 days before Pillai and Radhakrishnan arrived at Victoria Point) in Burma and worked on airfield construction at Victoria Point, Mergui, and Tavoy. Possibly, it was an error in recollection. Pillai also mentions an ANZAC POW Eric Merrill whom I could not trace, using Varley’s diary.

Varley’s diary makes no mention of Lamba Kakka. The A Force sailed in the Celebes Maru on 15 May 1942, from Singapore to Victoria Point, in Burma, where Green's battalion and some other groups (a total of 1,017) disembarked. Varley mentions - natives started to throw parcels of food over the back, unbeknownst to the Japs of course, they would have skittled if they’d have got caught. But they’d throw over a box with fifty boiled eggs in it or something like this. I have thus far not found any other corroborating Australian account of this benevolent shopkeeper, but it does not surprise me.

From the story of an executed ANZAC prisoner RS Goulden at this site, we note - Goulden tried to escape in July 1942, and was caught and beheaded, by the Japanese. Camp life was harsh. Food was meagre and consisted of rice and vegetables and any protein that could be brought from the local villagers.

Hopefully someone from down under will chime in.

Gautam Hazarika, whose book “The Forgotten Indian Prisoners of World War II” will hit the stands soon, helped me with the official report of Pillai’s escape (I had only the shortened version from Sareen’s compilation).

References
Three Thousand Miles to Freedom – MM Pillai – A wonderful read…
Escape narrative of Lieut M.M. Pillai, Royal Bombay Sappers & Miners, and Lieut V. Radhakrishnan, Singapore Volunteers – AWM 54: 779/10/4
Muslims Of Burma – Moshe Yegar
Diary of Brigadier A. L. Varley. M.C. 12 May 1942 - 26 March 1944
INA, A documentary study, Vol 1 – TR Sareen

MM Pillai pic - courtesy  Aviation-defence-universe.com

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