The Last Days of Subhash

By Dr Bhatnagar Rajendra Mohan

'Agyatvas ka humsafar' is not just a work of fiction but a testimonial to the support lent by the family and friends of this great leader. It is also the story of colonization and colonies all over the world. Subhash Chandra Bose was a formidable foe of the allies especially the British who left granted India a broken freedom, shackling India forever to its colonial past. The mystery that shrouds Subhash's death had led to the formation of 3 commissions namely the Shah Nawaz Khan, Ayub Khan and Mukherjee which set up at different times, to examine these circumstances inconclusively. It was difficult to believe that Bose had actually died in the air crash. Files on Subhash have never been opened, to public scrutiny nor has a DNA test been conducted on the ashes preserved in Japan. Mystery surrounding Bose continues to keep his story alive, piquing the interest of readers and rescarchers alike. The story delves into these truths creating a tale that will keep you on the cdge, making it hard to put down this page turner till the end!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diamond Books
• Release date: Mar 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9789356841390

Book preview

Chapter 1

The night had resumed its watch. It seemed to stretch in an unending spiral of darkness with not a spark of light seeping through its starless gaze. Subhash loved watching his little girl sleep. He could not but caress her sleeping back or run his fingers through her hair. Watching Anita had instilled such feelings of tenderness in Subhash that he was overcome with emotion and bent to kiss her forehead. The thought of his precious daughter being left with a babysitter or a maid had filled him with consternation. He had told Emilie calmly. Ani needs a mother. She needs love and affection which a maid or babysitter cannot give her.

I understand. I am an Indian wife. I understand my responsibilities. But you are the one who is leaving. Anita has become quite used to you. She didn’t cry at all when you held her in your arms. You will leave in the morning and she will be with me all the time. I will be forced to act both as her mother and father. Is this the punishment for marrying an Indian? Schenkl smiled as she said this. Bose sighed. You call that punishment? Could anything be worse than leaving Anita and you? What would you call that? Subhash’s expression betrayed his emotion. It would be some time before he could see Emilie again.

Skirting the issue, he spoke generally as he was wont to do. Isn’t love itself a punishment? A sweet penalty, a voluntary chastisement which one longs for, which one is ready to give up one’s life for, a kind of punishment which one prays for?

Emilie Schenkl nestled against Subhash’s chest, silenced by the depth of his feeling. This is a test of our love, dear. I do not know whether this mission that I have undertaken in the most painful time of my life will find love or fruition. Exiled from the country I have sworn to give my life to………..

Emilie Schenkl placed a tender finger on his lips and looked deep into his eyes as if to say that she was his companion there and forever. Love was their guiding light. She remembered thinking that when a goal greater than a man’s desires was the beacon of life, every act became a part of that greater picture to culminate into a life which was equally an inspiration to many.

Did you say something, Schenkl? He had addressed her by her last name as he often did.

Yes, certainly.

What? for no sound had escaped Schenkl’s lips. That which you heard, Subhash. What did I hear, my dear? He had pulled her closer, locking his arms around her in a tight embrace which filled her with the conviction that he’d never let go.

To be heard without speaking is true communication, isn’t it?

Subhash bent down to kiss her welcoming lips, drinking deeply of her love.

Bengalis are known to be emotional, aren’t they?

Aren’t you..?

You have changed me Subhash. I am no longer myself.

It is thing I regret, a mistake that I have committed that I commit repeatedly.

Oh Subhash! Weren’t you the one who said that life must be lived like the sun which shines not for itself but for others?

Her words had seemed to fill the room with his ideals for it was a while before Subhash spoke.

You do remember everything I say, don’t you?

What about you, Subhash? Don’t you? Subhash kissed Schenkl deeply. She had grown limp in his arms, weakened by his love. His caressing unleashed her desire like a horse whose reins were firmly held in his soft hands.

Now, only the memory of their love stretched out like a barren desert before them with nothing but hope and faith forming an oasis. Emilie’s thoughts clung to the details of Subhash’s love, refusing to let the present day touch the memory. As Emilie replayed the moment of Subhash’s parting in her mind, she felt that her presence was indeed just a figment of time amidst fragmented memories from the past.

It is dawn. The port outside the fort beckons…..

The blind tunnel…….

And you its companion!

Yes, certainly. You can hold me responsible for everything! She recalled how she had remonstrated him, not without a tinge of regret.

No, no, no….there is never a reason for love. Like there can never be one for visiting a temple or church… The simplicity of his response had broken her resistance, replacing it with a kind of adulation that she learnt later had inspired so many.

There are reasons….advantages, overcoming obstacles, success …..

Stop it now ……when you start philosophizing, it appears to be just as if you are whiling away your time.

Emilie Schenkl had recalled the love that she felt and hoped that Subhash could read it in her eyes. Her love was so powerful that it had drowned out her own existence. They had crossed the Rhine together without even realizing it. She wondered at its power. It was like a prayer. The most unselfish prayer which was the only true kind in which there was not even a strain of desire to ask God any favours for oneself. Time was slipping out of her grasp like water. Subhash would leave shortly and she would be left here alone like a river flowing, perennially longing for its destination. It was fate that though she did not consider herself to be of any significance, she was becoming a part of an important event. Much more important than she had ever dreamt of. Her only wish had been to become his wife.

Madame, your call is through! The voice caused Emilie to push aside her reminiscences and rush towards the telephone. The broadcasting secretary of Germany, Goibles, had called yesterday. German foreign minister Ripentup had also called last Saturday. Now since you have appeared, I am calling you from Goibles office….

Yes Schenkl, I have spoken to him. The phone number must be confidential so the call has been placed from his office.

How are you Bose?

How do I sound?

Just hearing your voice drives me crazy. I don’t know what to say. Do you recall the foggy morning of 8th February 1943? As you headed towards the fort and then the port, you had said that I could not go with you to Japan and so should not accompany you even to the fort. Your words still ring in my ears. ‘Never pray for a selfish aim or objective. Always pray for what is good for humanity, good for all time.’

I had also said that Germany cannot win this war and victorious Britain will lose Hindustan. But why are you still here, Emilie? You were supposed to leave for your country, Austria. There is no one around me right now. But the Gestapo can create trouble for anyone at any time. I was worried about you and your well-being, Subhash.

I am a freedom fighter, Emilie. I have come here to free my country. I am not alone here, Emilie. There are thousands of freedom fighters here with me. Whatever becomes of them will become of me. I can understand your concern in the face of such adversity. Hitler probably never played chess. If he had, he would know that he has made the wrong move. He has created a trap for himself which he cannot escape.

There is no room for pardon in chess.

You are becoming more and more insightful each day.

You speak too soon, Subhash.

Do you remember everything, Emilie?

Yes, the quiet on the banks of the Rhine with the rainbow spreading over the sky….

And the rainbow too was sinking. You had wondered why any man would hate himself so much that he would become Hitler? This is a war of Kauravas. There are no Pandavas in this war and no Krishna, either. There are inhuman forces on both sides. Even then…….The desire to see my country free has forced me to accept this. As I approached Burma and proceeded towards my country, memories of you and Anita clouded my thinking, and I asked Goible to place this call. How is she?

Don’t be afraid. She is a lovely girl. Her face is shaped like yours. Her eyes are also more like yours than mine. Her lips do not resemble either yours or mine. Her nose is a mix of ours. She has beautiful, thick, silky hair. She tries to call me Mamma. Will Papa do for you? It does go with Mamma, you know.

I wish I could see her. Hitler should not have attacked Russia. It is a big mistake.

It is done and cannot be undone. You will see her, Subhash. I work from home now. I proofread and translated to be with her. I have taken your words very seriously, that she needs a mother. Though you are far away, I can feel your large eyes staring at me, so I never feel alone. My mother’s earnings support also helps us. But Anita cries in the middle of the night, quite inconsolably. I feel she misses you. Your memory is like a rainbow, preserved in my heart. I am just going on about myself. Tell me, how have you been….

I wish I could listen to your voice forever.

So do I. Emilie could hear Subhash’s lips blow a kiss on the instrument.

I spent some money today.

On what?

Do you recall ‘Here is Thierstein. This is Thierstein. Thierstein welcomes you’?

Oh yes. That Tibetan station where a multilingual announcer called out the comings and goings of trains on the loudspeaker.

Yes, the same. Do you recall the man you had spoken to and the story of his lost love who would not marry him?

Certainly. I had said to him that society deserves to get back what it had given to him, as he was well educated and could easily get a good job. He was truly annoyed with me for saying this.

I went back there and found a different man there. He was selling small booklets or rather pamphlets. Reading those pamphlets, I learnt that love has a power all of its own.

Stronger than ours? Subhash asked a now quiet Schenkl.

Why don’t you send me one through Goibles? His voice was quiet. He needed to connect with her in whatever way he could.

Okay.

I am sure that they contain something that even Gold Marks cannot buy. Few people can overcome hatred with love. It is only hatred which results in war. My goal is not only the freedom of my people but also to free people from this hatred.

This is now really serious Subhash. Will you speak to Anita? said Schenkl and lowered the receiver towards the sleeping girl who began wailing as soon as she heard Subhash’s voice. Replacing the receiver after their goodbyes, Emilie started to leave. Goibles stopped her at the door.

Dr. Vonn Trott du Solje is the Director of affairs related to Bharat is here. Emilie sat down with Anita.

The pamphlets will reach Subhash but remember that no discussion on politics must ever take place over the phone again, Vonn Trott said.

I will be more careful in future, but do tell Subhash the same thing. As Emilie walked away, she pondered on the complexity of the situation. Could any man, however great, manage love and war simultaneously? It was something that she was sure few men could pull off with any success. As soon as Subhash reached Tokyo, he wrote to Emilie.

‘Dear Emilie

I am really glad you are learning French. Please continue your efforts. I am enclosing herewith two addresses with which you may correspond in French. But I advise you to begin only if you wish to continue. Though I expect you to reply as soon as you receive my letter, I think it is preferable to call.’

Emilie heaved a sigh of relief and continued reading.

‘The voyage was full of dangers, but my faith in my goal was unshakeable. It was like an eclipse, as if we were going down a never-ending blind tunnel. No doubt, my ship had sailed into troubled waters. A goods carrier started firing at our vessel, thinking it was an enemy ship. For a short while, everyone on board, including the captain, felt that we had reached the end of our journey. But I was stolid. No fear. Four hundred nautical miles south of Madagascar, in the Mozambique channel, I was to leave our German vessel and board the Japanese one. The waves seemed to have a mind of their own. Abid Hassan was petrified and did not come out during the storm. I asked him to have faith in Allah. He stared at me as if I had gone out of my mind. We could not wait out the storm. So we had to don rubber jackets and tie ourselves with nylon ropes to go over to the other ship. None of us was worried about the sharks who were known to be fond of human flesh. However, we were unharmed and reached Tokyo safely.

I am writing this letter to you from the famous Imperial Hotel in Tokyo. Under the circumstances, with the strength of our intentions and support, freedom cannot be far away. Don’t worry about me. Lots and lots of love and blessings for Anita.

Yours

Subhash’

The car stopped. What’s the matter? Emilie asked.

Checking, ma’am, replied the driver.

Under Hitler’s regime, trying to understand the reasons for these checks was futile. There was always some sort of checking going on. As Emilie sat there waiting, her mind drifted back to Subhash with his high-necked woollen jacket. It was 8th February 1943. Subhash arose from the writing table with a letter in his hand.

I am leaving tomorrow on a journey which is completely uncharted, dear.

So….?

So read this ….. said Subhash handing her the letter.

The letter is in Bengali and it is to your elder brother, Mr. Sharad Chandra Bose.

You are right. How did you know?

Whenever you write to your brother, your eyes are filled with emotion just like when you sing in your beautiful voice in the language of Tagore.

Yes Schenkl, Tagore is just like Shakespeare or Schilling.

That’s what you always say. Watching you, listening to the sound of your soul, reading divine love in your beautiful eyes, I can understand the message. Gestures and expressions give away a lot when you know someone well, things that he doesn’t quite know about himself.

You are right, Schenkl. I embark on a journey to which there seems no end right now. If something goes wrong…

No, don’t say that, Emilie silenced him with a finger on his lips.

Nothing will happen to you Subhash, ever! His hands gently caressed hers.

As long as you are with me, my dear, nothing can ever go wrong. This is a letter to my brother Sharad Chandra who has been my ally and support in my journey here, without whom I would never have gotten this far. I have written to him about you and Anita, as you have wished for so long.

Why are you telling me this, Subhash? protested Schenkl.

Let me be as I am. I believe in fate and God. I can feel God within me, said Emilie softly.

That is what I have written, Emilie. I have asked him to care for you and Anita, my wife and child, just as he has cared for me. Some people say that I have taken an oath not to marry till my country is free, which I haven’t. That is why it is necessary to write this letter. You are my legally wedded wife and Anita is my daughter. You must be welcomed into my family with the honour and respect accorded to your position. No misunderstandings or rumours must deny you that. Subhash’s voice was thick, betraying the depth of his emotion.

Emilie was taken aback by Subhash’s sense of righteousness and genuine concern. His concern for her, even when she was slightly ill, had always overwhelmed her. He would get her medicines, take her to the doctor and tend to her till she was fine. Emilie’s thoughts meandered to that cold winter night when Anita had fallen ill. The wall clock had fallen silent. The rain would not stop pouring. There was thunder and lightning. Anita was down with a bad cold. Her little body was wracked by fever and pain. Subhash had returned home late from a meeting. Nevertheless, he had dropped everything as soon as he entered and spent the night tending to Anita. Though Emilie had reminded him of his meeting the next morning, he hadn’t budged.

During their drives through the forests, he would point out to Anita that the great buck with twenty antlers lived here and was a great attraction for tourists, as were the tall beech trees that hovered over the area like sentinels. Subhash had said that she would know the day that she would step into a free India was not far. His family would embrace her and Anita would be the apple of their eyes. She would experience what an important position a wife held in an Indian family. Emilie had been carried away to that other world, which she was definitely curious about. Anita’s chirping brought her back to the present. She started patting her back to sleep. The car stopped. Carrying Anita on her shoulder, she entered the house. She had bought two books today, one of which was the ‘Legend about Buddha’. The picture on the cover was calm and serene. Buddha’s face stared back at her, with features so striking that he reminded her of the Greek gods.

❒

Chapter 2

The colours of the political landscape in Europe was changing as quickly as the colours of the sky at sunset. A shroud of increasing darkness gradually spread over Austria even as it threatened to cover Europe. The cornerstone of Europe’s prosperity had always been Germany and Austria depended on it. Actually, the cultures of these countries were not dissimilar. They differed in their sizes and the amalgamation of people of different cultures into their own. Emilie had returned to Austria via Hamburg, Prague, Vienna and Budapest. There were a large number of Czechs in Vienna. The Pan-German revolution, which had once been the mainstay of the Christian Socialist Party, had now succumbed to Hitler, whose control had a vice-like grip over the smallest act and the greatest declaration.

Emilie consoled Anita who had started a childish wail. A young, well built, young man sat across from her. Herr Herrer was returning from a meeting. Emilie pulled Anita closer to her protectively.

Are you Austrian? Your name? the young man asked.

Yes, but I am living in Germany now. Emilie, Emilie Schenkl.

What do you think?

About what?

Do you think Hitler will continue winning like this?

I am not interested in politics.

Or you are too scared to express your views about him?

Emilie held her peace. She was wary of Herr Herrer’s intentions.

Do you understand rape? Gang rape by Jews?

What do you want?

Are you married or divorced?

Married. My husband is Subhash Chandra Bose.

An Indian. From a slave country. Why did you choose him?

I think that the paths we have chosen are separate.

So?

Herr Herrer’s narrow face, with its high cheekbones and cut lower lip, hardened. He swallowed and looked out of the window. It was dark. The train was carrying few passengers. Emilie had heard stories of atrocities committed by young Germans. They were not known to show mercy. Anita became restless once again. Herr Herrer’s cold voice cut across.

You must be of mixed blood to have chosen an Indian belonging to a slave country.

You are crossing your limits now Herr Herrer! Emilie hoped that the cold firmness in her voice would thwart further conversation.

Anita would not be calmed. She had to feed her. She turned towards the window and, opening the buttons of her Chester, began feeding her. Anita was quiet and Emilie heaved a sigh of relief. But she could feel Herrer’s lustful gaze boring through her back. Her mother’s warning rang in her ears. Emilie, befriending a stranger and getting involved with him is sheer foolishness. Don’t you like any of the local boys?

Emilie had replied that Subhash was her first love that Subhash was not fooling around and that he was fighting to free his country. When she first met him in Vienna, he was writing the book called ‘The Indian Struggle’. Subhash had added her name to the preface and thanked her for helping him write the book. But what, after all, did she know of the Indian struggle? As her mother had put it, nothing, nothing at all.

Don’t become emotional and play with your life, Emilie. And what do you know about love? Forget him! Her mother had advised her vehemently. Mama, stop worrying about me! Emilie had protested. I have learnt a lot about the Indian struggle now. I have no illusions about him. But he is a divine soul. Simple, honest, foresighted and determined. He too had warned her of the fact that his life was full of uncertainty. I want freedom for my country! That is my ultimate goal. Subhash’s breathed and lived for that goal.

Emilie did not stop there. Despite advice, warnings and even threats, she and Subhash were married. There was no church wedding or a court one. No wedding rituals of any sort were performed. After the wedding, there was a small party for her parents, a few friends and some close relatives. Now that Subhash was gone, Emilie wondered about her future. That was 26th December 1937. An announcement of any sort would have caused great turmoil. So the wedding was kept quiet. Then Anita arrived. Now he had left them and embarked on this journey that he needed to undertake to garner support for a free Hindustan. Her mother could no longer hold her peace and said one day, Now what is the use of thinking about him, my child, when he has already left?

Ever since Anita was born in Vienna on 29th November 1942, I have spent my time with him and learnt what happiness is.

Now Subhash is not here. Japan is using him as a pawn on a chessboard. Japan does not really care about India’s freedom. Anything can happen during a war. The gentleness in her mother’s voice did not reduce the grimness of Subhash’s reality.

Emilie had pleaded with her not to speak of it while professing that she had prepared herself to face any situation. But her mother had persisted in asking her to think about her situation and even consider another marriage. Emilie had staunchly refused to do so.

She is a Jew, then. Herr Herrer’s hard voice cut through her thoughts bringing her back to the present. But you are not, he continued. Emilie heaved a sigh of relief. The torture and humiliation meted out to the Jews was no secret. "Our leader Herr Hitler had tried to explain to King Wilhelm that the Jews were dangerous for Germany, but the king had relied on them for counsel and appointed them as leaders. Austria, at that time, was ruled from Habsburg and they were of the opinion that past atrocities should be forgotten. Frankfurter Getting had poisoned the minds of the Germans and flung