The Most Sacred Experience of My Journalism Career: Meeting Sachindra Nath Sanyal’s Friend.
This post is about my meeting with Sachindra Nath Sanyal’s friend in 2004-2005.
In my 25 years of journalism, I consider this incident to be the most important and sacred one. Even today, nearly 20 years later, I still remember every detail of that meeting.
I came across a rare line drawing of Sachindra Nath Sanyal, also known as Sachin Da, in a magazine from the 1970s. I found this magazine while browsing through a library in Banaras.
Sachindra Nath Sanyal was not only a great revolutionary but was also the guru or associate of most of the revolutionaries of India. To know about him, please read my post:- https://nithinks.com/2021/08/12/sachindra-nath-sanyal-a-great-forgotten-freedom-fighter/
Beyond the Textbooks: Rediscovering Sachindra Nath Sanyal
Sachin Da
After India gained independence, Marxist writers often shaped the history taught in schools. In these textbooks, figures like Lenin and Stalin were glorified, while only revolutionaries who followed communist ideologies were given significant attention.
As a result, many of India’s other freedom fighters, especially those who did not align with communist views, were overlooked or minimized.
One such revolutionary was Sachindra Nath Sanyal. His name barely made it into the history books. In fact, during my school days, the entire knowledge I had about Sanyal was limited to just two facts:
*Sachindra Nath Sanyal founded the Hindustan Republican Association (HRA).
*He wrote the book Bandi Jeevan (Life in Prison).
That was all I knew about him—nothing more, nothing less.
Growing up in Sanyal’s hometown, I never learned about the depth of his contributions or his true significance in India’s freedom struggle. Like many other revolutionaries, his story was overshadowed by political ideologies that shaped our education system.
A Discovery at Banaras Hindu University
It wasn’t until I was pursuing my undergraduate degree at Banaras Hindu University (BHU) that I learned for the first time that Sachindra Nath Sanyal had lived in Varanasi. It came up during a lecture by my history teacher, who was discussing the contributions of Varanasi to India’s freedom struggle.
Ravindra, one of my classmates, also seemed to know a lot about the subject. When the teacher finished, I approached him and asked, “Where do you get all this information from?” He smiled and replied, “From the wall of the school!”
I was confused and didn’t quite understand what he meant. Sensing my confusion, he added, “I’m an alumnus of the Bengali Tola School. The main building of the school has the names and information of Sachindra Nath Sanyal and other revolutionaries who were former students there.”
I had often seen the Bengali Tola School building from a distance. It’s located on the road connecting Godauliya to Banaras Hindu University. A few days later, while passing by that route again, I remembered Ravindra’s words as soon as I spotted the school. Curious, I parked my bicycle near the school gate and decided to go inside.
The main building stood about 10 meters from the gate, just as Ravindra had described. And there, on the walls of the building, were the names of some students and teachers who had made significant contributions to India’s freedom struggle. It was a revelation for me, a hidden chapter of history I had never learned before.
A Journey into Forgotten History
Five or six years after my experience with the Bengali Tola School, when I had started my journalism career and was writing for several magazines, one of them asked me to write an article for India’s Independence Day.
As I sat down to work on the piece, I found myself stuck—unsure of what to write next. And then, suddenly, a memory struck me: The revolutionaries honored on the walls of the Bengali Tola School. That’s when I decided I would write a separate story focusing on these forgotten revolutionaries.
A few years later, I found myself once again at the Bengali Tola School campus. I carefully wrote down the names of the revolutionaries inscribed on the school’s walls and headed home, thinking it would be a simple story to complete.
At home, I called my good friend and talented photographer, “Dinesh Bhaiya”—whom I had mentioned in my previous post about the Vishwanath Corridor Project—and asked him to take a photo of the stone plaque at the school and send me the pictures.
In those days, I was an avid reader and frequented a nearby library. I was confident that I would find plenty of information about these revolutionaries. I believed that, after working alongside several experienced journalists for a while, I could seek their help as well. I planned to gather photographs of places connected to these revolutionaries and collect stories from the locals who lived near their homes. With around fifteen days to work on this, I was sure I would have enough time to finish the story.
However, when I started working on the article, I quickly realized I was mistaken. The library had very little information on the subject, and even the seasoned journalists I approached had no detailed knowledge of these revolutionaries. The biggest shock came when I discovered that no one knew where most of these revolutionaries had lived.
Determined, I expanded my search to the older libraries in Banaras. I did manage to find some material on the subject, but it was scattered across many books. This meant that I had to read through all of them patiently, which clearly wouldn’t be possible within the fifteen-day timeframe.
Some of my journalist friends suggested names of people who might have more information, but meeting all of them in such a short time proved impossible. After much consideration, I reluctantly decided to put aside my idea of writing about the revolutionaries of Varanasi for the time being, with plans to return to it later.
In the Footsteps of a Revolutionary: My Meeting with a Friend of Sachindra Nath Sanyal
Meeting with Bhaduri Ji
Later, while working as a journalist, I stumbled upon the famous book Bandi Jeevan written by Sachindra Nath Sanyal at the Carmichael Library, one of the oldest libraries in Varanasi.
Coincidentally, Sanyal Ji himself had mentioned this library in his book.
He used to visit the library to browse through books, much like I was doing at that time. A few years ago, Bandi Jeevan was republished by a Delhi-based publisher, giving new life to Sanyal’s account.
Around this time, while working on another article, I was introduced to Dr. Bhattacharya, a homeopathic doctor whose knowledge of history was remarkable, despite being a medical professional. During a conversation about Sachindra Nath Sanyal, Dr. Bhattacharya recommended I meet Bhaduri Ji, a figure with a rich history in the freedom struggle.
A few days later, I visited the address Dr. Bhattacharya had given me. I met Bhaduri Ji’s son and explained the reason for my visit. He kindly invited me to wait in the dining room. During our conversation, I learned that Bhaduri Ji himself had been a freedom fighter and had spent time in prison during India’s struggle for independence. He was also a scholar.
His son shared that, when renowned filmmaker Satyajit Ray was in Varanasi shooting for his famous film Feluda, he came to seek advice from Bhaduri Ji.
By this time, Bhaduri Ji was quite elderly and had difficulty speaking, so his son kindly requested me to limit my questions. As Bhaduri Ji struggled to walk, his son helped him into the room where I was waiting. I wasted no time and immediately asked,
“Did you ever meet Sachindra Nath Sanyal?” To my surprise, Bhaduri Ji answered, “Yes, I met him thrice.”
I was taken aback. This was the answer I hadn’t expected. Trying to contain my excitement, I asked, “Is there anything specific that you remember from those meetings?”
Bhaduri Ji explained that the last time he met Sanyal was probably in 1939, near Niranjani Akhara.
I knew that around this time, Sachindra Nath Sanyal had been associated with Subhas Chandra Bose and had edited Bose’s mouthpiece, Agragami, which was published near Niranjani Akhara.
Bhaduri Ji shared a recollection of their last conversation. “Sachindra da told me,” he said, “that soon Hindus would have to fight on two fronts—against British imperialism and also against Islamic imperialism.”
This wasn’t surprising to me, as Sanyal had written extensively about both these issues in his works.
I thanked Bhaduri Ji, touched his feet, and left. That meeting clarified something important:
Sachindra Nath Sanyal had perhaps been the only revolutionary who had foreseen the coming storm. His philosophy was grounded in the reality of the times, and he had a deep understanding of the issues that would shape India’s future.
Sachindra Nath Sanyal was the voice of the common Indian. He didn’t explore India from the comfort of a car, nor did he live in the realm of Gandhi’s idealism. Gandhi’s idealism, though noble in thought, was ultimately powerless against the brutal reality of Jinnah’s Two-Nation Theory. Gandhi’s vision of a united India crumbled in the face of partition and the massacre of millions of Hindus.
Sanyal did not oppose Muslims as a community, but he was fiercely critical of Muslim leaders who prioritized Muslim-majority countries over India.
He knew that many Muslims in India saw the pride of Turkey as their own and that there were those who still, even today, place the Muslim Brotherhood’s spirit above their Indian identity.
Even today, some political parties continue to exploit such sentiments for votes, further dividing the nation.
The truth cannot be hidden behind the curtain of fake idealism or glossy ideals. The actual thoughts and vision of Sachindra Nath Sanyal must be taught in schools, colleges, and universities. This true son of Mother India deserves a rightful place in history. His contributions must not be overlooked or forgotten.
