Dr. HEADGAWAR JI

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Dr. HEADGAWAR JI

 

DOCTOR KESHAV BALIRAM HEDGEWAR, the founder of the

Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (R.S.S.), was born in 1889 in Nagpur.

>From his early childhood until his very last, his life burned like a

steady lamp in the cause of the motherland. Even as a child of eight

he threw away in disgust the sweets given to him in his school on

Queen Victoria's birthday saying that it was a sign of slavery. He

amazed his elders by his strange questions such as- "How is it that

these Englishmen coming form thousands of miles away have become our

rulers?" When he was in high school he was rusticated for lighting

the flame of Vande Mataram movement among the students. He had, as

it were, imbibed the spirit of undiluted patriotism right from his

mother's womb.

 

Rarity Among Rarities

 

After matriculating from Poona, he chose Calcutta,

then the home of revolutionaries, with a view to studying their

movement at close quarters and participating in it. He soon became

one with the Bengalis in their life customs. He plunged into the

inspiring political and social activities there and soon became the

inspiring center of a band of patriotic young men drawn from all

over the country.

 

When he returned to Nagpur as a young and brilliant

doctor, many eyes were riveted upon him with fond hopes about

the 'bright career' that awaited him. Many were the matrimonial

approaches made to him. But, his was not a life to be chained to the

narrow confines of family. By way of a final to all such proposals

he wrote to his uncle Abaji Hedgewar, "I have pledged my life to an

ideal. I have staked my all at its altar. Where then shall I find

time and energy to indulge in personal pleasures and family life?"

 

Be it remembered, he was born in a family groveling

in stark poverty. We may come across persons born in affluence, who

have no need to worry about their bellies or of their kith and kin,

coming out for national work, though, of course, even such instances

are rare. But Doctorji was a rarity among rarities. Though stark

poverty and half-starvation was staring in the face, he never

thought of earning a single pie for himself or his family. He never

practised though he was a doctor. He preferred to become the 'Doctor

of the nation'.

 

Like a Lamp

 

Right up to his very end, dire poverty remained his

faithful companion. For months on end he carried on with hardly one

full meal a day. Many times he was in tattered clothes. He was ever

short of the barest necessities of life. One day, a gentleman called

on Doctorji. As the conversation was coming to a close, Doctorji

requested him to stay for tea and sent word to his sister-in-law to

prepare tea. Some minutes passed; there was no tea. Some more

minutes; still no tea came. The gentleman was in a hurry to go.

Doctorji went inside to find out what the matter was. And he found

nothing except cold water and his sister-in-law quietly sitting in a

corner! There was no one else to go to market and bring the

necessary things. So Doctorji himself went out,

brought sugar and tea, and after a short while tea was served to the

gentleman. That gentleman was shrewd enough to understand the

situation. Till then he had not the least scent of the monetary

plight of Doctorji though he was acquainted with him for a long

time. In fact, looking at the ever smiling face of Doctorji, his

radiant enthusiasm, his infectious laughter, his captivating

manners, shedding sweetness and joy all-round, no one could imagine

the extremities under which he was living. He was like a lamp, which

burns itself silently but sheds warmth and light all-round.

 

Immediately after the incident, the gentleman sent

for me and inquired in detail about doctorji's monetary condition.

He was shocked to know the abject state of affairs. He became

restless and angrily asked me, "Why have you not made arrangements

to remove his financial worries?" I replied, "How can 'Ekadashi'

fill the belly of 'Shivaratri?' He became grave for a while and told

me, "I simply cannot stand this. You should accept twenty-five

rupees every month from me at least to meet the expenses for

Doctorji's guests. But take care, let this not reach his ears!" I

suggested that he himself should propose it to Doctorji. But knowing

as he did Doctorji's strong views in the matter, he also did not

dare broach the subject with Doctorji, and there the matter rested.

 

An Adage Disproved

 

In addition to his burning idealism, he was a glowing

example of the rarest of virtues - the will to reform oneself in

conformity with the chosen mission in life. He was born in a family

known for its violent and fiery temper. Doctorji too inherited that

ancestral 'heritage' in full. It is stated that inherited tendencies

and habits die hard - Swabhavo duratikramah. The queer saying, "Man

should be careful in the choice of his parents", expresses the same

idea. But all such self-weakening ideas were proved false by

Doctorji. Since the day he resolved to build an organisation,

wherein people of varied natures and qualities were to be blended

into an organised and harmonious whole, he decided to reform

himself. Those who had seen him before were surprised to find him a

completely transformed man. After he founded the organisation rarely

did anyone see him using a harsh word or getting upset in the face

of even the gravest provocation. If anybody spoke to him harshly he

would just smile and that would wear away the edge of opposition.

Doubtless, his inner fire would erupt sometimes - but that was when

he used to find insults and ignominy heaped upon our nation and

people mutely submitting to all that.

 

Steadily and with stupendous self-effort Doctorji had

transformed himself in every little detail of his behaviour as a

moving and living example of a worker dedicated to the mission of

national reorganisation based on the highest values of our cultural

heritage. He had realised from his experience that fiery public

speeches, however thrilling for the moment, would never help to

build an enduring organisation of dedicated hearts, which will burn

like a steady flame amidst all tempests of temptations and

adversities. On the contrary, such intemperate speeches would only

harm the organisation by inculcating, though unconsciously, a

mentality of finding cheap satisfaction in criticising and exposing

one's opponents. Such a mentality could have no place in an

organisation of the type of the Sangh, which sought self-reformation

in society, knowing as it did the one lesson of our history that our

people alone, and not outsiders, are responsible for our

degeneration and disaster.

 

Before the founding of the Sangh, Doctorji himself

was a fiery speaker. In 1921, during the non-cooperation movement,

he was arrested for one such of his speeches. He was produced before

the court on the charge of sedition. After listening to his spirited

defence in the court the magistrate remarked, "His defence is more

seditious than his speech!" But after the starting of the Sangh he

fully restrained his expressions. Thereafter his speeches, though

charged with feeling and capable of burning themselves into the

heart of the listeners, were never provocative and violent. Even in

informal chitchat his words carried a wave of sweetness and appeal

to the heart. He had known by experience that sweetness of speech

was a 'must' for a national organiser.

 

Yudhishthira Reborn

In all this transformation there was nothing

artificial or superficial. It was so deep and enduring that it

became the very texture of his nature expressing itself

spontaneously in thought, word and action. His was not the 'long-

distance popularity' which would vanish like a soap bubble on closer

contact and scrutiny. There is a saying, "No hero is a hero unto his

own valet." But in his case, the opposite was true; the more one

came near him, the more would one love and adore him. His character

was the same in private as in public - one sweet harmonious whole.

Such was his pure, noble, radiant and transparent character that

even those who opposed him in the public field had not a word of

reproach or abuse about his person.

 

There was a famous barrister in Nagpur by name

Abhyankar, who was a leading political figure of that province. He

had a voice of thunder and a knack for picking holes in his

opponents' character. And he used these qualities in full measure

during elections to expose and browbeat his opponents. Once Dr.

Moonje contested against him in elections. The barrister imagined

that Dr. Moonje had as one of his main supporters Doctorji and his

Sangh. So he decided to attack Doctorji and Sangh in his public

speech. In his speech he directed his tirade against every supporter

of Dr. Moonje, but when he began referring to Doctorji his tone at

once softened. He frankly confessed that he would not find a single

word by way of abuse against Dr.

 

Hedgewar. Just imagine, such a public confession

amidst a virulent election campaign and from such a person!

 

In fact, Doctorji's relations even with his opponents

went deeper than could be affected by any superficial differences.

Right from his Calcutta days he had cultivated an attitude of love

and regard and co-operation towards all persons and organisations

devoted to the cause of national emancipation-even those with whom

he did not see eye to eye. Political jealousies found no place in

him. The flame of patriotism burning in his heart was too radiant to

allow the shadows of parochial considerations to fall anywhere near

him.

 

Once a friend approached Doctorji in the night to

urgently secure for him a loan of five hundred rupees. It was

nearing midnight and Doctorji was in a fix. Then he got up, went

directly to Sri Abhyankar and made a request. Without a word he

brought the amount and handed it over to Doctorji. Doctorji asked

him for paper and pen so that he could write out a promissory note.

Sri Abhyankar replied, "Doctorsaheb, have I gone out of my senses

that I should take a promissory note from Dr. Hedgewar? All Nagpur

would laugh at me!"

 

Such was the absolute faith and confidence that his

sterling character had inspired even in the minds of his public

adversaries. He was like Yudhishthira who would address even

Duryodhana as Suyodhana. When the incredible news of Ashwathama

spread in the battlefield, Drona decided to verify its truth from

Yudhishthira, his chief adversary! Such was his rectitude of

conduct, which had made others, his friends and foes alike, to trust

him. Doctorji was, as it were, the modern reincarnation of

Yudhishthira. He was verily a man with no foes and only friends - an

Ajatashatru.

 

Once, the Government of the then Central Provinces and

Berar was seized with an apprehension that the growing strength of

the Sangh might prove a menace to the 'communal peace' in the

province. The Government sent out a circular in 1932 prohibiting its

servants from taking part in the activities of the Sangh.

 

The municipalities and the district boards were also

advised to take similar steps. There was an uproar in the province

at the thoughtless and anti-national step of the Government. It

found its echo in the Provincial Assembly also. A censure motion

against the Government was moved in the Assembly. And it was

supported not only by the Hindu members but also the Muslim,

Christian, Parsi and all other members. It was preposterous, they

all asserted in one voice, to imagine that an organisation headed by

Dr. Hedgewar could be against any community. The ministry itself had

to quit office shortly after that.

 

The Irresistible

 

This feature of his character had endowed him with such a

rare power of personality that even persons notorious for their

arrogance and turbulence would behave in a decent and gentle manner

in the presence of Doctorji. There was a person in Nagpur who used

to call himself a 'general', he had taken a vow not to allow any

meeting, which did not have him as the president, to go undisturbed.

The 'general' had an army of goondas, who would fall upon such

an 'unauthorised' meeting and within few minutes the meeting would

end in confusion and chaos. During those days a friend of Doctorji

coming from outside was to address a meeting in Nagpur. But the

promoters of the meeting had apprehensions that the 'general' would

not allow the meeting to go on. But Doctorji's calm assurance gave

them confidence and they arranged the meeting. As the meeting

commenced, the 'general' arrived with his 'army'. Seeing him coming,

Doctorji rose and welcomed him with great warmth and made him sit by

his side. The speaker too was in his full spirits and scathingly

criticised the party to which the 'general' belonged. The 'general'

was wild with rage, throwing his glances here and there; but seeing

the calm, confident and majestic figure of Doctorji sitting just

beside him, a cold shiver would pass through his body and he would

sit back helplessly in his chair. The meeting went on peacefully for

over two hours. After the meeting was over his followers pestered

him with questions for keeping mum. He only replied, "What could I

do? That man was sitting beside me!"

 

Incomparable Unifier

What a mountain-load of anxieties and torments Doctorji

must have been carrying in his bosom to be able to hold together

countless number of men, mould each one of them after the image of

an ideal national worker and set up enduring conventions and

inspiring examples as basis for the organised life of whole nation-

and all this under extremely hard conditions of personal existence!

But the most amazing part was, no one could guess these deep

undercurrents coursing through his being. Whoever came in his

contact would go back bathed in the fresh springs of joy and

laughter gushing forth from him. Various and diverse were the types

of persons who invariably surrounded him. His friends would

jocularly say that Doctorji was maintaining a 'human zoo'! But no

one in the 'zoo' felt himself out of tune while in the company of

Doctorji. The young and the aged, the orthodox and the modern, the

educated and the uneducated, the rich and the poor would all find in

him a note of common interest. Such was his spirit of identification

and the sweep of his dexterity. To him no man, however low and

deficient in the eyes of others, was worthless.

 

Self-Effaced

 

At the root of that exceptional quality lay the

spirit of complete humility, unsullied by even the least traces of

ego. Infatuation for name or fame, position or power, never touched

him. Right from the inception of the Sangh, he was constantly on the

look-out for a suitable person who could be the head of the

organisation.

 

And he himself wanted to remain as his humble

follower, thus setting up a living example for all other workers. In

fact, he made repeated efforts to bring in a great Hindu leader as

its chief, but in vain. That great man with all his other virtues

could not grasp the potentialities of the Sangh and make up his mind

for that historic role. Doctorji was sorely disappointed but he

continued his search. He remained naturally the chief of the

organisation on the sheer merit of his virtues, like the lion, which

is the natural king of the forest - swayameva mrigendrata. But he

could not till the very end reconcile himself to that position.

 

In spite of his towering height Doctorji never

exhibited any airs. He would even restrain the natural and

spontaneous expressions of adoration for him by his co-workers and

Swayamsevaks. He was severely uncompromising in that regard. In 1940

he was returning to Nagpur after visiting the training camp at

Poona. I had gone to the Railway Station to receive him. As the

train arrived we found him standing at the entrance of the

compartment, his face beaming with a smile. Just as I advanced

towards him to offer a garland, I met his stern forbidding glance. I

stopped half-way with my hands half-stretched. Immediately he smiled

and remarked, "I am coming to my own home. Where is the need for all

this? In fact we should welcome our honoured guest." And he

indicated the gentleman who was accompanying him. I offered him that

garland. I had no opportunity to garland Doctorji all through his

life. I could only garland his body after he had left us. He was

equally averse to being photographed. It was only rarely and after a

prolonged tussle with his co-workers that he would consent to his

photograph being taken.

 

Though stern and unsparing to himself, what an ocean

of love he was to each and every one of us! Words fail to describe

the depth of that pure and selfless love. The boundless affection of

the mother's heart, the sleepless care and diligence of the father

and the inspiring guidance of the guru found their culmination in

that single bosom. I for one feel it my proud privilege to worship

him as my ideal. The worship of such a soul transcends the worship

of an individual and becomes the worship of the ideal itself. He is

verily my chosen deity.

 

Philosophy of Action

Single-minded devotion, sterling character, matchless

organisational skill, unflinching faith in the ultimate success of

the cause he had taken up as his life-mission and limitless capacity

for effort and exertion. His co-workers were torn with anxiety about

his worsening health. Some warned that his body would not last long

if he continued in that strain. But he would reply to all such

queries in a simple sentence, "After all, my body is for the sake of

work" and would close the matter. He knew no rest or respite. His

was the philosophy of action. He was for ceaseless and intense

action, especially during the days of the youth. "What is the use of

resting during the days of youth only to prolong one's life up to

old age when the body becomes useless for any active work?" he used

to ask. If out of compulsion of his co-workers he consented for

rest, he would not rest without starting a few shakhas in and around

that place!

 

In 1939 his illness became very acute. Doctors

advised him complete rest. I was with him at that time. Treatment

was going on. Medicines were regularly given, but to no purpose. The

doctor who was treating him was perplexed. While checking the

details of the treatment, he inquired at what time Doctorji would go

to sleep. I replied, "As usual at 1 or 1.30 in the night." The

doctor was shocked to hear that. He said, "That is why he is not

improving. Probably you are not allowing him to sleep early. He must

go to bed by 10 o'clock." I confessed my inability to make him sleep

so early. The doctor said, "Well, if you cannot do it, I will myself

come and do it." I welcomed his proposal. That day the doctor came

at 9 o'clock in the night. Doctorji had just taken his food and was

alone in his room. As it was not good to sleep immediately after

taking food, the doctor began chitchatting with Doctorji for a

while. I was sitting outside all the while. When, however, the

doctor felt drowsy, and looked at his watch, it was past 1 o'clock!

He got up hurriedly, instructed Doctorji to sleep and came out. As

he started out, I just enquired of him the time. In an apologetic

tone he said, "I forgot myself in talking!" and went away.

 

Offer Flower of Youth

 

Doctorji stuck to that practice even during his

serious illness. He would call the workers at night and talk to them

singly or in groups till late in the night. All our efforts to

dissuade him proved futile before his grim resolve to expand the

work at peak speed. Even the steel frame of his body could not cope

for long with his intensely dynamic spirit. Within fifteen years of

the starting of the organisation, his body was completely consumed

by the fire of idealism. It was not that he was unaware of the

approaching end. In fact, he used to say, "I know quite well the

nature of my malady. I also know its remedy. But I have simply no

time to spare for treatment. I do visualise its result. But I cannot

help it. God's will be done."

 

Just as a yogi finds fulfillment in offering himself

as an oblation in the fire of yoga manifested in his body, so did

Doctorji offer his body in the fire of suffering and sacrifice. That

has been our glorious tradition. But today we often hear that we

should not exert ourselves too much in our younger days lest our

lifetime be cut short. Doctorji ridiculed this advice of wasting the

precious moments of youth only to drag on in old age for some more

years. One should in fact offer oneself at the altar of the Mother

when the flower of youth is in full bloom shedding fragrance and

radiance all-round. It would be a sacrilege to offer a faded flower

devoid of colour and odour in the worship on one's chosen deity.

This was his concept of fruitfulness of human life; this was how he

lived and this was how he died.

 

Living and Dying

 

His was not an ordinary death. It was a steady and

consuming fire stretched over the entire period of his youth. There

are some, who sacrifice their lives in a flash of martyrdom. True,

that is also glorious and inspiring. But to burn oneself every

moment of one's life in order to light up countless other hearts is

a tapasya of the highest order. Like Shibi of the olden days

Doctorji cut his own flesh bit by bit in order to protect the 'dove'

of society. Like Dadhichi, who gave his bones to be forged into a

deadly weapon to slay the demon Vritasura, Doctorji too smilingly

transfused his life-blood to society till the last drop. That was

how Shankaracharya died at the age of thirty-two, Vivekananda at

thirty-nine and Shivaji at fifty. Doctorji too died at fifty. And it

is they who live eternally!

 

How Words Derive Power

Words get charged with irresistible power when

uttered by such souls. Doctorji's words used to be very simple - as

if he was speaking to a child. But what a force they carried! Once

Dr. Shyama Prasad Mukherjee of revered memory came to see Doctorji

with a desire to discuss a serious problem with him. At that time

Doctorji was too ill - and that was to be his last illness - to

engage himself in a long discussion. So I requested Dr. Mukherjee to

have a preliminary talk over the subject with me and if anything

remained he could go to Doctorji for a final answer. He agreed. We

had a prolonged discussion. And although each one of his queries and

doubts was answered, still he remained unsatisfied. So we went to

Doctorji, he put the same question to Doctorji. And Doctorji replied

in a few words, conveying the same answer as I had given. But to my

astonishment I heard Dr. Mukherjee say, "Now I am completely

satisfied." That incident gave me the lesson of my life that it was

the character, the penance, the sacrifices of a person that impart

power to his words. Arguments, discussions, flashes of intellect,

all pale into dismal dimness before that supreme power.

 

A Child of Greatness

Excelling though in all that go to make an epoch-

maker, he remained all through his life like a child-simple,

unassuming, without any airs, speaking to one and all in a spirit of

intimacy, laughing, joking and appreciating the smallest of virtues

in others.

 

Once in a weekly meeting of some advocates in the

Sangh, several issues connected with the organisation were being

discussed in a free and informal manner - someone mooting a query

regarding the future set-up of the Sangh, some one else suggesting

the formation of a formal central committee and so on. Then abruptly

one of them posed the question, "What, after all, is at the root of

the Sangh?Well, it is Doctorsaheb", I simply said. An old

gentleman was present in the meeting who had known Doctorji form his

boyhood.

 

Doctorji would often go to him seeking his

suggestions and guidance. Obviously he was deeply moved to hear my

words regarding Doctorji. He was surprised to find that all of a

sudden the 'boy Keshav' had grown to such heights. A flash of new

realisation, as it were, dawned upon him. After the meeting he went

to Doctorji and remarked affectionately, "Doctor, how great you have

become! All the while I was imagining you as the same old lad

Keshav!"

 

The greatest of men grace the world stage often cast

that spell to make others unaware of their greatness, so that they

may not shirk and shudder at their greatness, but come and freely

mix with them in a spirit of comradeship. Sri Krishna by his

childish pranks had cast a spell over all in the Gokula. No one, not

even Yashoda, would remember that he was God Incarnate Himself. Once

when he was reported to have eaten dust and Yashoda forced him to

open his mouth, she saw illimitable universes dancing in that little

cavity. She was shocked and dumbfounded. But that was only for the

moment. The same old smiling, mischievous, teasing pranks of the

child Krishna made her forget that fleeting realisation.

 

Doctorji's disarming simplicity had cast a similar

spell upon all those who came near him, even his nearest friends and

co-workers. It was only rarely that they would remember, as if in a

flash, that they were in the company of a great soul of

unsurpassable majesty born but once in centuries for the redemption

of the people. And they would be surprised and even shocked at the

free and almost equal way in which they mixed with him, sometimes

even taking liberties with him! But that was all for a moment. Again

the simple, smiling figure of Doctorji would cast its spell and they

would forget all about it.

 

Such was our Doctorji, the founder of the Sangh, the

Hindu ideal of man in flesh and blood, the embodiment of the saying,

Kriyasidhihi Sattve Bhavati Mahatam Nopkarne (The great ones achieve

great tasks not because of external aids but by their intrinsic

merit), a Guiding Light for all generations to fashion their lives

in its effulgence for glorious and immortal national life.

 

 

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(*) Compiled from the speech of Sri Guruji at Nagpur