Standing on the stage, Apte first asked the gathering to remain calm, reminding them to be true to their vow of non-violence. Then he moved on to comment on the country’s political state of affairs. At that moment his eyes fell on Miss Joshi’s veranda, and his heart, which beat for the poor and the downtrodden, seethed with rage. While hundreds of people had gathered there to share their misery and look for some respite, right across the ground, tables were crammed with tea, biscuits, dry fruits and snacks and liquor flowing freely for the select gathering. As the distinguished guests feasted they would occasionally cast a supercilious look at the lesser mortals across the road, clapping their hands together in unconcealed amusement. For the first time in his life, Apte lost control and thundered . . .
‘While our comrades here struggle for each morsel of food, a tax is being levied on foodgrain—simply to ensure that the government officials don’t have to go without their usual share of goodies. We, who are the breadwinners of this country, who extract wealth from the core of the earth—we are dying of hunger, while those whom we have elected to power to make our lives decent and safe, have turned into our masters, who spend their days in drunken revelry. Isn’t it strange that we who toil day and night—we, who should be crowned kings—have to go hungry day after day? While those who are really at our mercy for all their luxuries are savouring delicacies brought in from Spain and Italy! Who is to blame for this?
‘Is it them? Is it their fault? No, certainly not. We are to blame for this, friends, it is our fault! It is our fault that we have given them so much power over ourselves. But today, we want to say it—loud and clear—that we shall no longer tolerate this cruel and callous behaviour. It is unacceptable to us that our children beg for food while this privileged group remains soaked in luxury, completely oblivious to our misery. It is unacceptable that our families have to sleep on empty stomachs while these people dance the night away in theatres and clubs, drinking and throwing away money on prostitutes. Where else in the world does the public die of starvation while government officials are lost in a world of depravity and decadence, where poor, respectable women get pushed around in the streets, while prostitutes masquerading as school-teachers live in the lap of luxury?’3
Suddenly, the group of armed policemen looked agitated. Their officer was giving orders, ‘Disrupt the meeting, round up the leaders, nobody should escape. This is a subversive speech.’
Calling the police officer Mr Johri said, ‘There is no need to arrest anyone else. Get Apte. He is our real enemy.’
The police started beating the crowd and soon an officer, accompanied by a group of soldiers, surrounded and arrested Apte.
The crowd went berserk. Seeing their beloved leader being rounded up in this manner was the ultimate test of their patience.
Just then Apte’s voice was heard rising over the commotion: ‘You have taken a vow to remain non-violent and if any one of you breaks it I shall hold myself responsible for it. I request you to please go home. The government officials have behaved exactly in the manner we had thought they would. We have succeeded in our aim behind holding this meeting. We didn’t come here to create trouble—we gathered here to generate people’s sympathy and we have succeeded in that objective.’
In a moment the crowd dispersed, and Apte was taken into police custody.4
Mr Johri said, ‘I’ve got my hands on the fellow after a long time. I’ll have him booked under anti-national activities and make sure he goes to the Andaman prison for at least ten years.’
‘What use would that be?’ asked Miss Joshi.
‘Why? He’ll be punished for what he has done.’
‘But just think of the heavy price we’ll have to pay for it. What is known only to a handful of people right now will become common knowledge and we shall lose face. You can’t stop journalists from writing what they want.’
‘I don’t care. I want to see him rotting in jail. Life will be peaceful for some time at least. There’s no point thinking of what people will say. We can take over all the newspapers in the province and make them dance to our tune. We can prove all their allegations wrong and charge Apte for casting false aspersions on us.’
‘I can show you an easier way out. You leave Apte to me. I’ll meet him and by skilfully using all the charms that the fairer sex is known for I’ll help you know his inner thoughts and emotions. I want to probe and find out intimate details of his personal life—the kind that he dare not own up to in public. And then, before we know it, public opinion will swing in our favour and soon everyone will believe that he was a truly scheming character and had vested interests and that the government has dealt with him appropriately. I’m convinced he is a master conspirator and I’m determined to prove as much. I’ll make sure he’s no longer a God in the eyes of the people—I want to expose him as the evil force that he really is.’
‘It is not as simple as you imagine. Apte is a clever politician.’
‘There is no man who cannot be charmed by a woman.’
‘If you’re confident you can do this, then I have no problem. I only want to punish him, one way or the other.’
‘Then order his release right now.’
‘Won’t that be perceived as weakness on our part?’
‘No, as a matter of fact, it will have a positive effect on people. Everyone will think that the government has respected the public opinion.’
‘But what will people say if they see you going to his house?’
‘I’ll wear a veil and go
