Anandamath

Chapter VI

Edwards was a clever resourceful Englishman. He had his men placed at every outpost. Very soon news was brought to him, that, the Vaishnabi having thrown Lindley down had ridden away somewhere on horseback. Hearing this Edwards said, “An imp of Satan! Strike the tents.”

Then the pegs everywhere began to be struck with mallets with clatter and din. The city of tents disappeared like a heavenly city built with clouds. Goods were loaded on carts and men were disposed off on horseback or on foot. Hindus, Mohammedans, Madrasis and Britishers marched with crunching boots and with guns on their shoulders. The gun carriages rolled on noisily.

On the other side Mohendra approached the fair with his hordes of Santan force. That evening Mohendra thought, “The day is nearing its close, let us camp somewhere.”

It was considered wise then to encamp at a suitable spot. The Vaishnabas had no tent. They slept under trees spreading their gunny pieces on the ground. They spent the night drinking water offered at the feet of Hari. What hunger was left unappeased was satisfied in dream drinking nectar from the lips of their Vaishnabis. There was a spot in the neighbourhood ideal for encamping. It was a big garden full of mango, jackfruit, babla and tamarind trees. Mohendra ordered his men, “Encamp here.” There was a mound by its side, rough and uneaven to ascend. The idea once crossed Mohendra’s mind, that, it would be good to camp on the top of that hillock. He decided to go and investigate.

Thinking thus Mohendra slowly ascended the mound on horseback. When he had gone up part of the way, a young Vaishnava entered the ranks of the fighters and said, “Come, let us climb on the mound.” They were all surprised and asked, “Why?”

The young warrior stood upon a small mound of earth and cried, “Come on! On this moonlit night inhaling the fresh fragrance of the new spring-time flowers we will have to fight with our enemies. The soldiers all recognised the young warrior to be their general Jivananda. Then shouting the battle cry, “O Hari! О Murari!” the entire Santan army raised themselves erect with their lances and imitating Jivananda began rushing up in a body towards the top of the hillock. Someone brought a caparisoned horse to Jivananda. Mohendra noticed this from a distance and stood there in surprise. He thought, “What is this? Why are they coming up without orders?”

Thinking thus Mohendra whipping his horse began rushing down in a cloud of dust. Having met Jivananda in the forefront of the force he asked, “What is this, Ananda (delight)?”

Jivananda laughed and said, “Today is a day of great rejoicing. Edwards is on the other side of the mound. Whoever climbs on the top first wins.”

Then Jivananda shouted to the Santans, “You know me? I am Jivananda Goswami. I have killed a thousand enemies.”

With a great din resounding the fields and the forest they cried back in answer, “We know you, you are Jivananda Goswami.

Jivananda: Say — “O Hari! О Murari!”

From thousands of throats rose the answering cry — “O Hari! O Murari!”

Jivananda: The enemies are on the other side of the hillock. Today on this hillock the Santans will join battle the witness of which will be the blue dome above and the night below. Come, quick, whoever reaches the top first wins.

Say — “Hail Mother!”

Then both the field and the forest reverberated with the song — “Hail Mother.” Slowly the Santan army began to climb the hillock. But they suddenly saw in alarm that Mohendra Singha was rushing down the mound sounding his whistle. In a very short time against the blue sky on the top of the hillock British guns with gunners were visible. In loud voice the Vaishnab army sang —

Thou art wisdom, thou art law,
Thou art heart — our soul — our breath,
Thou the love divine — the awe
In our hearts that conquers death.

But the loud report of the British cannons drowned that noble song. Hundreds of Santans fell down dead and dying on the mound with their arms clutched. Again mocking the bones of Dadhichi,[1] and taunting the waves of the sea the thunders of the British guns began rolling. The Santan army began to fall cut into pieces like ripe paddy before a scythe. In vain Jivananda toiled and Mohendra took such pains. Like a falling shower of stones the Santan army turned and descended down the hillock. They fled hither and thither at random. Then in order to wipe out the entire force the British soldiers began descending with the cry — “Hurrah! Hurrah!” With raised bayonets like a vast and loosened hill-torrent the countless unconquerable and fierce British soldiers began chasing the fleeing Santans. Jivananda meeting Mohendra once said, “Today is the end of everything. Come, let us die here.”

Mohendra said, “If dying meant winning battle I would gladly die. To die in vain is not the religion of a hero.”

Jivananda: I shall die in vain, even then I shall have the consolation of dying in battle.

Then turning back Jivananda cried aloud, “Whoever prefers to die with the name of Hari on his lips, come with me!”

Many came forward. Jivananda said, “No, not like that. Take a vow before Hari that you will not return alive.”

Those who had come forward fell back. Jivananda said, “No one will come it seems. Then let me go forward alone.”

Jivananda raised himself on horseback and called out to Mohendra who was far behind, “Brother, tell Nabinananda that I have gone, we shall meet in heaven.”

Then that heroic figure dashed his horse in that hail of bullets, his left hand holding the lance, the right hand the gun, his lips crying “Hare Murare! Hare Murare! Hare Murare!” There was hardly any chance of a fight. There was no meaning in this courage. Even then Jivananda crying “Hare Murare! Hare Murare!” entered the serried ranks of the foe.

Mohendra called the fleeing Santans — “Turn once and look at Jivananda Gosain. Looking back once will not mean death for you.”

Turning back some of them saw Jivananda’s superhuman feat. At first they were amazed, then they said, “Only Jivananda knows how to die, we don’t know? Come, let us follow Jivananda to Heaven.”

Hearing this some Santans turned back; their example made others turn, theirs again still others. A great uproar set in. Jivananda had already entered the ranks of the enemy. No one could find him.

In the meantime from all over the battle field fleeing Santans began detecting that parties of Santans were turning back. All came to the conclusion that the Santans were victorious. They were chasing the enemy. Then the whole body of Santans cried out “Kill! Kill!” and rushed at the British.

On the other side there was a great confusion created among the British force. The Sipahis without caring for fight were fleeing right and left, the white soldiers were also turning back to their camp with raised bayonets. Looking about intently Mohendra found innumerable Santans on the creep of the hillock. They were heroically descending the hillock and attacking the British force. Then he called back his men and said, “Look! There is our Master Satyananda’s flag visible on the top. Today Murari himself, the killer of Madhu and Kaitava, the destroyer of Kansa and Kesi has come down to join the fray. One hundred thousand Santans are on the hillock. Say, “Hare Murare! Hare Murare!” Get upon the back and the chest of the Musalmans and strangle them. There are a hundred thousand Santans on the rock.”

Then the cry of “Hare Murare” echoed through the field and the forest. The Santans’ cry of, “No fear! No fear!” and the sweet music of clashing weapons entranced every living creature. The army of Mohendra began rushing up mightily. Like the current of a stream sent back and broken up dashing against a stone barrier the government army became stunned and panic-stricken and utterly broken. Just at that moment Satyananda Brahmachari with his twenty-five thousand troops fell upon them from the crest of the hillock like a mighty sea wave. A great battle was fought there.

Just as a small fly is crushed between two big stones, so the huge government army was crushed between the two bodies of Santans.

There was no one left alive to carry the news to Warren Hastings.

[1] Dadhichi is primarily known for sacrificing his life so the Gods could make weapons called “Vajra” from his bones. After being driven out from Svarga, or heaven, by the serpent king Vritra, the Deva defeated the Asura by using their vajra to reclaim heaven. He is well known for his sacrifice, in spite of his wife’s crying for that he convinced her stating that.