Chitrabhanu Man with Vision

Author(s): Clare Rosenfield
Publisher: Jain Meditation International Centre New York

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1929, “and we, who are but clods of clay encasing sparks of the divine fire, have only to consecrate ourselves to these ideas. A life so consecrated is bound to fulfill itself, regardless of the vicissitudes of our material and bodily existence...." This remained his unshakable philosophy throughout his life.
That part of Rup's nature which nurtured a dream of heroism and devotion to a selfless cause responded at this time to Bose's eloquence. He was eager to turn his renewed flow of energy in such a purposeful direction. His persistent determination to go his own way found an outlet in this wave of nationalism. Caught up in the tide of emotion, Rup directed himself toward the teeming city of Calcutta to join Subhash Chandra Bose.
In a hideaway in Calcutta, Rup met other young freedom fighters of the Forward Bloc. There they lived and scanned the newspapers for articles for or against Bose's political views, and worked together at a feverish pace to stir their countrymen to action. One thought prevailed — to free their fellow Indians from the shackles of British colonialism.
For twenty-two days Rup remained in this highly charged atmosphere. One day, one of the leaders of the Bloc told his workers that some explosives were hidden in a certain corner of their shack, in case of some future need. But he had been noticing some British soldiers keeping a more than watchful eye on their whereabouts. He became eager to move to a new hideaway, but he wanted the explosives to be transferred first.
"Let one of the youngest men carry out this errand. It is not likely that the authorities will notice him,” he commanded.
Rup was chosen for this dangerous mission.
Dusk was about to fall over Calcutta when Rup ventured forth. Two British plain-clothes men became suspicious and asked him to stop and be searched. He started to run. But before he could escape, they swung their bayonets wounding him in both legs, across his feet and along his upper right arm. He fell to the ground unconscious in a pool of his own blood.
Years later, when he remembered his feeling during that harrowing experience, he recorded these words in his diary:
“It was the beclouded night of dismay. Dreary was the path. There was no friend, no colleague. None was beside to
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