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Title: Anandamath আনন্দমঠ Appears in Collections: Bengali Fiction বাংলা গল্প ও উপন্যাস Title ppti.info, আখ্যাপত্র, kB, Adobe PDF, View/Open. Anandamath (Bengali: আনন্দমঠ Anondomôţh) is a Bengali fiction, written by Bankim Chandra . Print/export. Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version. Anandamath. byChattyapadhyay ppti.infope: application/pdf dc. ppti.info: Bengali ppti.infofication: Bengali Novel.

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Download free book (PDF, ePub, Amazon Kindle) Anandamath is a Bengali novel, written by Bankim Chandra Chatterjee and published in. Anandamath is a Bengali fiction, written by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay and published in Available Formats: PDF Immediate Download on Full Payment. Take for example an incident in his Bengali novel Anandamath, first translated into English as Abbey of Bliss, The story, set in eighteenth century India, concerns.

Disappointed, the pursuers became furious with anger. They shouted louder and louder, and enclosed on Kalyani from all sides. The frightened child cried loudly. Kalyani, feeling herself trapped, ceased her efforts to escape. She sat down on a thornless plot of green, velvety ground under a huge tree.

I bow to Thee everyday. It was my faith in Thee that enabled me to enter this jungle with my child. Where, where art Thou now?

She was as if in a trance. She awakened from it into a realm of luminous inner consciousness, and in that state she heard a singer chant divinely: 39 'God is great, God is great; Take refuge in God; in God alone. At last it paused when it reached right over her head. Kalyani opened her eyes to see a Mahatma with long white hair and beard, dressed in pure white.

She was moved by the sanctity and serenity of this holy man. In her effort to bow at his feet, she fainted and fell to the ground. Archaeologists could easily detect that it had first been a Buddhist vihara, then a Hindu temple and then a Mohammedan mosque. Now it seemed to have been finally converted into something else again. The building was twostoried and its compounds were so formidably surrounded by wild trees and creepers that no one could suspect its existence from a litde distance, even in broad daylight.

At places the broken buildings had been repaired. One could see that human beings still lived in this impregnably dense forest. Inside a room of the main building a huge log of wood was burning. It was in this room that Kalyani regained her consciousness. She opened her eyes to see the white-haired and white-bearded Mahatma seated 40 beside her. Kalyani looked around with wonder as if in a dream.

She had not yet regained her memory. Cast aside all fear from your heart. But as memory returned, she bowed in humility at the feet of the Mahatma. He blessed her; fetched a bowl of milk, warmed it over the fire and said: 'Mother, feed your baby with this milk, and drink the rest yourself. I shall then talk with you.

Upon his return he found that Kalyani had finished feeding the baby; but she had not drunk any milk herself. In a tone of surprise, he said: 'Mother, I see that you did not drink iny milk yourself. I am going out again. I will not return until you drink that milk. I am a forest hermit. You are my daughter.

What secret can you have that you do not want to tell me? When I saved you from the jungle I found you suffering from hunger and thirst. If you do not drink milk now, how can you expect to live? My husband is not fed yet. How can I eat or drink until I know that he is fed?

When he went out to look for milk, we were carried away by that famine-stricken mob. Kalyani, according to the custom, was unable to utter the name of her husband. But from what she said the Mahatma guessed who she was, and said, 'So you are Mahendra's wife, my little mother! I shall go out to get news of your husband. But I cannot leave this room until you have finished drinking the milk. The Mahatma pointed to a pitcher of water in a corner of the room.

Pouring a little on the palm of her hand, Kalyani requested the Mahatma to sanctify it with his touch. When the Mahatma had blessed the water, she drank it and said: 'I have now drunk nectar, Master. Please do not ask me to drink anything else, for I will neither eat nor drink anything until I get news of my husband. Stay strictly within these protected walls in safety. I am going to find your husband.

It was not a full moon; so it was not bright. Light, however, had fallen on the vast meadow making a shadow of the darkness. In such a light you could not see the borders of the meadow. Nor could you see what rested there. It was the very abode of fearful, endless loneliness.

The highway to Calcutta and Murshidabad passed through it. Nearby was a little hill covered with mango and other trees. The treetops swung to and fro, bright in the moonbeams and their shadows danced joyously on the dark stones below. Mahatma Satya climbed to the top of the hill and became absorbed, intently listening. The broad meadow was almost soundless. Only now and then could you hear the whisper of leaves. At a certain point a vast jungle touched the hill.

The hill stood at the top; the highway at the bottom; and the jungle in between. A litde noise mingled with the murmur of the trees. No one could know the nature of the noise. Satya walked in the direction of the murmur and entered the jungle. There he found rows of men seated amid the dark shadows of the trees. The men 43 were tall and armed.

Here and there their polished equipment shone brighdy in the moonlight that filtered through the openings between the branches. Two hundred men were sitting in perfect silence. Satya walked gendy into their midst and made a sign. No one rose and no one uttered a word. Past the files of men he walked, looking at each face. He seemed to be searching for someone. At last he found the man he sought and touched his body by way of command.

The man at once stood up. Satya took him aside. This man was young, his face covered with a black beard and moustache. He was strong and handsome, dressed in yellow, the holy colour, his body anointed with sacramental sandal paste. Who did that?

Hunger has driven farmers into robbery. These days, who is not a robber?

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We ourselves robbed to eat today. We deprived the British chief of police of his two maunds of rice for our meal. I have left them at the ashram. Now, I assign you to find Mahendra Singh for his wife and child. Jiban alone will be able to take care of the duties here and win success.

Mahatma Satya departed. He decided to go into the town, and from there to search for his wife and child with the help of government officials. He had not gone far when he found a bullockcart trudging along with a heavy guard of sepoys of the British army of occupation.

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The British had long been expert in collecting revenue. At different centres they had their collectors who realised taxes and revenues to be shipped to the treasury of the East India Company in Calcutta. Thousands of men, women and children might die of starvation; yet there must be no cessation in the collection of taxes. This years collection, however, fell short of expectations. If mother earth refused to yield wealth, humans could not create it.

All that could be collected, however, was being shipped at once to the British treasuries in Calcutta. In those days robberies were so prevalent that the bullock-carts bearing the tax money were guarded by fifty fully armed sepoys with bayonets drawn.

Their captain was an Englishman, who rode a horse in the 45 rear. During the daytime the heat was so great that the sepoys were forced to travel by night. Confronted with this procession of the tax-cart and its guards, Mahendra stepped aside. The sepoys spotted him. Realising that it was not the time for quarrels, Mahendra moved to the edge of the jungle.

When the sepoy saw the rifle in Mahendras hands, he was all the more convinced of this. He rushed towards Mahendra, shook him by the shoulders, called him thief, struck him and snatched the rifle away from him. Mahendra, furious with anger, returned a mighty blow.

The sepoy reeled under Mahendras blow and fell unconscious on the road. Three others then grabbed Mahendra, and dragged him forcibly to the English captain, alleging that he had killed a soldier with one blow. The English captain was smoking his pipe, and under the influence of liquor.

Anandamath by Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay - Bangla PDF

He said stupidly: 'Catch that villain and marry him. How could they marry a male armed robber! They hoped the captain would, of course, change his order when he became sober. So they tied Mahendra's hands and feet and placed him on the bullock-cart.

Mahendra knew it was useless to exert his strength against such odds. And again, what would he gain by freedom? He was so sad at his separation from his wife and child that he cherished no desire to prolong his life. The sepoys tied Mahendra well and routinely proceeded along the road as before. He followed such a route that very soon he, too, faced the sepoys and the tax-cart.

He, too, stepped aside as Mahendra had done. But the suspicion of the sepoys was now so aroused that they at once seized Bhavan.

How can I be a robber? Do I look like one? In the dark Bhavan's eyes flashed with anger. But he controlled himself, and said with much humility, 'My Lord, deign to command, and your orders shall be obeyed at once. Tie him tight in the spot where the other robber lies. So he dropped the load from his head, and slapped the sepoy who tried to put it the load back on 47 his head.

The sepoy then tied him hand and foot, and threw him beside the other captive. Bhavan recognised Mahendra Singh.

The sepoys became noisy again and the wheels of the cart began screeching. It is not necessary now that you know who I am. Please do as I tell you; and do it carefully.

Place the knot of the rope that ties your hands on the moving wheel of the cart. Moving a little in the dark, he pressed the knot against the wheel. The knot was soon cut by the friction. In the same way he freed his feet. Thus freed, he lay quiet on the cart beside Bhavan, until Bhavan, too, had freed himself. Both kept silent. The sepoys had to pass by the hill from where the Mahatma had reconnoitered the landscape.

The moment the sepoys reached the spot, they noticed a man standing on a mound at the foot of the hill. We will make him carry some of our things. The sepoy caught him, and the man said nothing. The sepoy brought him to the lieutenant.

Still the man did not utter a word. The lieutenant ordered that a bundle be placed upon the man's head. It was done. The lieutenant turned and walked alongside the 48 moving cart. Just then the sound of a pistol shot was heard. The lieutenant, shot in the head, fell on the road. In a moment he was dead. A sepoy caught the silent man by his hand and said: This bandit has killed the lieutenant. He threw down the bundle from his head; and struck the sepoy with the butt end of his pistol.

The sepoys head was fractured, and he could not molest the man anymore.

As if at a signal, two hundred armed men rushed out of the jungle and surrounded the sepoys with victory calls. The sepoys were awaiting the arrival of their English captain. An Englishman never stays drunk when danger comes. The captain, suspecting bandits, had rushed to the cart and at once ordered his sepoys to form themselves into a column. The column formation was instantly executed.

Then at the second command the sepoys pointed their rifles. All of a sudden someone snatched the captains sword away from his belt; and in a second cut off his head. The captain fell headless on the road, and his order to fire remained unuttered. A man, standing on the cart, was waving a blood-stained sword in the air as he shouted: 'Victory, victory! Kill the sepoys, kill the sepoys.


The sepoys were terror-stricken and helpless for a moment to see their English captain's head so dramatically chopped off. Taking advantage of this hesitation the energetic invading forces killed or wounded many of them. Then they approached the 49 tax-cart and took possession of the boxes full of coins.

Defeated and discouraged the remnant of the sepoys ran away in all directions. The man who had first stood up on the mound and had then taken the leadership in the fight approached Bhavan. They embraced each other affectionately. Then Jiban began making preparations for the removal of the treasure to its proper place. And soon he departed with his attendants for another destination. Bhavan stood there alone. But at second thought he felt convinced that these new people were really robbers.

They had attacked the sepoys only for money. So he stepped aside, feeling that if he helped the robbers in any way he would have to bear a share of the sin of this hold-up. When the fight was over, he threw the sword aside, and began slowly to walk away. It was then that Bhavan walked towards him, and stood close to him.

It is not necessary for you to know that. I am gready indebted to you today. You are a wealthy zamindar. In consuming lavish dishes for breakfast, luncheon and dinner you are second to none. Yet when it comes to doing something useful, you are nothing better than a baboon. But you cannot deny the fact that we did some good to you and may render further favours. But what more can you do for me? And again, it is certainly correct behaviour not to accept favours from robbers.

But you may come with me if you so desire. I want you to meet your wife and child again. Bhavan said no more, but started walking. Mahendra, of course, followed him while he thought within himself: 'These are strange robbers indeed!

Mahendra was silent and sad. He was also curious. Bhavan, on the other hand, suddenly changed himself into a different personality. He was no longer the quiet and grave holy man nor the heroic warriorslayer of the English captain. He was no longer the proud chastiser of Mahendra Singh. He seemed to have been uplifted into supreme joyousness by the unique grandeur of the enchanting panorama.

He smiled as the ocean smiles at the rising of the moon. He grew jubilant, talkative and most cordial. He seemed very anxious to talk. In various ways he tried to engage Mahendra in a conversation. When he failed, he sang softly to himself: 'Mother, hail! Thou with sweet springs flowing, Thou fair fruits bestowing, Cool with zephyrs blowing, Green with corn-crops growing, Mother, hail! He was also at a loss to know for whom these sweet attributes were meant and who this mother was!

This refers to a country, and not to a mortal mother, I see,' Mahendra remarked. The Motherland is our only mother. Our Motherland is higher than heaven. Mother India is our mother. We have no other mother. We have no father, no brother, no sister, no wife, no children, no home, no hearth — all we have is the Mother: With sweet springs flowing, Fair fruits bestowing, Cool with zephyrs blowing, Green with corn-crops growing —.

Mother, hail! Thou with sweet springs flowing, Thou fair fruits bestowing, Cool with zephyrs blowing, 53 Green with corn-crops growing, Mother, hail! Thou of the shivering joyous moon-blanched night, Thou with fair groups of flowering tree-clumps bright, Sweedy smiling Speech beguiling Pouring bliss and blessing, Mother, hail!

Though now million voices through thy mouth sonorous shout, Though million hands hold thy trenchant sword blades out, Yet with all this power now, Mother, wherefore powerless thou? Holder thou of myriad might, I salute thee, saviour bright, Thou who dost all foes afright, Mother, hail! Thou sole creed and wisdom art, Thou our very mind and heart, And the life-breath in our bodies. Thou as strength in arms of men, Thou as faith in hearts dost reign. Himalaya-crested one, rivalless, Radiant in thy spotlessness, Thou whose fruits and waters bless, Mother, hail!

Who are the Children? The British are forced to fall back. An idol of Goddess Kali 3. Pradeep Kumar and Geeta Bali. The Sannyasis undisciplined army. ISBN Oxford University Press. British artillery opens fire. The novel's prose has been quoted by many writers talking about Indian independence. An idol of Goddess Jagaddhatri 2.

What Mother Will Be. In this dream. Despite the romanticism. New Delhi: Sabyasachi See Terms of use for details. Anandamath Uploaded by nvragn.

Flag for inappropriate content. Related titles. Jump to Page. Search inside document. Anandamath - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia http: Related Interests Bengal Books.

Documents Similar To Anandamath. Ranveer Singh Dangi. Lorena Lee. Avinash Gamit. Saurabh Sinha. However, some rebels manage to capture some of the cannons, and turn the fire back on to the British lines.

The British are forced to fall back, the rebels winning their first battle. The story ends with Mahendra and Kalyani building a home again, with Mahendra continuing to support the rebels.

The plot background was loosely based on the devastating Bengal famine of and unsuccessful Sannyasi Rebellion. Bankim Chandra dreams of an India rid of the British.

In this dream, he romantically imagined untrained Sannyasi soldiers fighting beating the highly experienced Royal Army. Despite the romanticism, the novel patriotism was a significant voice amidst the oppression and the struggle for independence.

The novel's prose has been quoted by many writers talking about Indian independence.Do you know how to get out of here yourself? Do I look like one? Kalyani woke from sleep. Anandamath Bengali: Pouring a little on the palm of her hand, Kalyani requested the Mahatma to sanctify it with his touch. Out of the main building of the ashram, Mahendra found his wife and child seated in an adjoining pavilion.

Out of the fullness of his heart Mahendra himself began to sing the Bande Mataram in the rapturous joy of devotional fervour.

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