Everyone suffered during the Emergency. Even getting reminded of those days sends shivers down my spine. Those were painful, miserable days.
I was a college student and an Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) karyakarta. I remember that day vividly. The news on the radio at 7 pm announced that an emergency had been imposed in the country. Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) pracharak Dattaji Bhale was going to stay with us after lunch and then proceed on his next journey. However, on hearing this news, he burned the important papers in his bag in a big basket and destroyed them. In the darkness of early morning, he changed his clothes and left our house. Unfortunately, I was unable to meet him again. He passed away while he was in hiding.
One such pracharak came to us secretly. The police were on his trail. Where would we have hidden him? A friend of mine had recently come to her parents’ house for maternity care. I took him to her house. The house was very small; there was no place to hide, and time was of the essence. My friend, who was sleeping on the bed, got up and asked the Pracharak to sleep near the baby. Just then, the police arrived. Except for the baby’s mother, they searched the entire house and left. After that, he had to be shifted to another place. But the police were guarding outside the house. What to do? A serious situation arose. Finally, a trick was devised, and at five in the morning, six of us got into a bullock cart and left him outside the village. He lay in the bullock cart, and we put bundles of grass on top of him. Then, we sat close to each other, our feet pressed together so that no one would become suspicious. In this way, the Pracharaks would leave safely. But it was all very scary to accomplish. Fortunately, nothing untoward ever happened.
The police were keeping an eye on me. When going out of the house, I would inform those at home whom to contact in case I was caught.
Once, a Pracharak was travelling from Sambhajinagar (formerly Aurangabad) to Jalna. The rail route seemed convenient. The police were on the trail. Just as we dropped him off safely, the police arrived as we were heading out. They started asking who was with us. Without showing fear, we killed time by saying that we were with our grandfather. Just then, the train left. We kept them so busy talking that they could not get on the train. Otherwise, it would have been difficult.
I had very long hair and had to always cover it with the pallu of a saree.
Many of our karyakartas were kept in Harsul Jail. Fortunately, my classmate was the daughter of Jailer Sahab. She was not much of a talker and kept to herself. I befriended her and went to her home with her. I got to know her father and started visiting her house more often. When Sankranti arrived, in an emotional appeal, we obtained permission from him to only serve homemade Tilgul Poli. We put a leaflet in each poli and delivered it.
We were working together in many ways. Pracharaks convey their messages, protect themselves, visit the karyakartas’ homes, inquire about their needs, and solve their problems. Everyone worked together successfully on many such fronts. This work completely took us over. Now, I don’t even want to remember those days. Anyway.
Finally, “Be patient, be patient, if you are patient, you would get big fruits!”
