A Life Immortal 305to his mother. “Please do not be anxious on my account. I shall be all
right.”^2
Sarat Chandra Bose was then a prisoner at Coonoor, in distant
south India. The newspapers he received—the Indian Express and the
Hindu—were different, but “the heart- rending news” was the same
about “Subhas’s death as the result of an aeroplane crash.” Sarat was
utterly distraught. “Divine Mother,” he wrote in anguish, “how many
sac ri fices have we to offer at your altar! Terrible Mother, your blows are
too hard to bear! Your last blow was the heavi est and cruelest of all.
What divine purpose you are serving thereby, you alone know. Inscru-
table are your ways!” Four or five nights earlier, he had dreamed that
Subhas had come to visit. “He was standing on the verandah of this
bungalow and appeared to have become very tall in stature. I jumped
up to see his face. Almost immediately thereafter, he disappeared.”^3
The poet among India’s nationalist leaders, Sarojini Naidu, gave elo-
quent voice to the country’s admiration and grief. She recognized that
“myriads of men and women” in India felt “a deep personal bereave-
ment” at Netaji’s loss. She had not supported his decision to seek Ja-
pan’s help, but understood what impelled him to do so. “His proud,
importunate and violent spirit,” she wrote in her tribute, “was a flam-
ing sword forever unsheathed in defense of the land he worshiped with
such surpassing devotion. A greater love hath not man than this, that
he lay down his life for his country and his people.”^4
Death by WarWhen Netaji had set off from Saigon airport on the late afternoon of
August 17, 1945, the five Indian aides he left behind had badgered the
Japanese to put them on another plane immediately so they could fol-
low their leader, but to no avail. Eventually, on August 20, the Japanese
offered one seat on a plane fly ing to Tokyo. The Indians chose S. A.
Ayer to be the one among them to take this opportunity. As he was
about to board the aircraft, Rear- Admiral Chuda of the Japanese navy
blurted out something that sounded to Ayer like “Atherji is dead.” Ayer
wondered if he meant Chatterji. “No, Netaji,” the answer came as the