23 march 1931

The yellowish light lit along the empty corridor gave away only bleak illumination into the room through those iron bars. But it didn’t matter much. He was voraciously going through the miniscule wordings of the book as if a hungry child eating his long awaited food.
"State and Revolution" by Vladimir Lenin. He had read lot about this revolutionist and his thinking. But reading this book is much more than that. It was like talking to the man himself.
"What a clarity in his thought." Bhagat sighed. He felt as if he will miss this knowledge most after this day, only second to his love- his country and fellowmen. For him it is just another day. A day of thoughts, a day of enlightenment and a day towards the social good. But whole nation was suffering from agonising pain as they saw the night lowering its curtain. Every inmate- political and non political together gazed at them with enormous love and sorrow. Even the stones in jail lay lustreless as if moaning into the darkness of the night.
Both Sukhi and Guru was lying in two corners of the room with their eyes shut. But Bhagat could feel that both of them are still awake deeply buried in their thoughts. In hours they together will face their destiny. A destiny much awaited. A destiny which thousands of young fellow men are craving to reach. To die as a martyr for the beloved motherland.
Outside the jail room silence ruled the night. Bhagat was sure that very few could sleep tonight in this jail. But as always, silence ruled the night. Intermittent footsteps and low whispering sounds did nothing to avert his attention from his newly found friend-Lenin.
He was always patriotic. It ran in the family. But the thing that shook his heart and soul was that massacre. He could clearly remember the blood stains, its noxious smell that stayed in the park for weeks and still thumbing in his head. It made him the fighter he is today. Soon came the days of confusion, anger and frustration. Days went by, reminding him of his destiny. Time played games with him. And here he is, face to face with his destiny. But that now he is not the lad, angry and frustrated, weeping loud at his helplessness. He has matured as a revolutionary. Now his vision is full of hope and clarity. He has foreseen the redemption of his people in an India which transforms itself into a socialist republic. May be the time is not ripe till now. But he was sure of its ultimate success.
The jailer and the guard were marching through the corridor with their heavy legs. Their minds were as gloomy as the starless sky outside. Nobody had a little desire of the task they are up to today. Those three lads were little adamant but never on whole earth did they deserve such a punishment. As they approached that particular cell room they saw one of them sitting close to the iron bars reading a book. And the other two were sitting upright behind him as if eagerly awaiting their arrival. The one with book was Bhagat, most vocal and appealing of the three.
" What is the book, lad? Something religious? " Queried a guard.
"Sought of !" Young man raised his head from the book with a smile and soon buried it back.
"I am sorry lad. Your time is up. You must get up now." told the jailer, sympathy clearly breaking his strong voice.
Bhagat singh hurried through the last paragraph of the book and smiled to his friends with relief
" Its just one revolutionary meeting the other. "
He told as he left the cell room along with his friends into the roaring slogans that made the jail erupt---
" Inquilab Zindabad"
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"The aim of life is no more to control mind, but to develop it harmoniously, not to achieve salvation hereafter, but to make the best use of it here below, and not to realize truth, beauty and good only in contemplation, but also in the actual experience of daily life ; social progress depends not upon the ennoblement of the few but on the enrichment of the many; and spiritual democracy or universal brotherhood can be achieved only when there is an equality of opportunity in the social, political and industrial life"….. Bhagat Singh
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