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April 10, 2026
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"Cum pressus ab hoste clauditur externis miles Romanus in oris, effugit exiguo nocturna pericula uallo, et subitus rapti munimine caespitis agger praebet securos intra tentoria somnos: tu tantum audito bellorum nomine, Roma, desereris; nox una tuis non credita muris."
"To scale a castle-wall, Besiege a fort, to undermine a town, And make whole cities caper in the air."
"The stress and strain of siege Prove the true metal and detect the base. But slur not Capua; for each counterfeit, Whose soul is in his purse, or in his mouth, We have a hundred hearts of steel, resolved To fire our temples, ere we yield our towers. We are in straits; but think ye that in Rome They walk on roses; where they melt their Gods In change for stores of rotten grain that sink In crazy vessels? In a mortal strife He wins who can endure to suffer most."
"Corpses across the threshold; heroes tall Dislodging pinnacle and parapet Upon the tortoise creeping to the wall; Lances in ambush set."
"Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes, Secure advancing, to the turrets rose: Some mount the scaling-ladders; some, more bold, Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold: Their left hand gripes their bucklers in the ascent, While with the right they seize the battlement. From the demolished towers, the Trojans throw Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe: And heavy beams and rafters from the sides, (Such arms their last necessity provides!) And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high, The marks of state, and ancient royalty. The guards below, fixed in the pass, attend The charge undaunted, and the gate defend. Renewed in courage with recovered breath, A second time we ran to tempt our death, To clear the palace from the foe, succeed The weary living, and revenge the dead."
"As when it happ’neth that some lovely towne, Unto a barbarous besieger falles, Who there by sword and flame himselfe enstalles, And, cruell, it in teares and blood doth drowne; Her beauty spoyl’d, her citizens made thralles, His spight yet so cannot her all throw downe, But that some statue, arch, phan of renowne Yet lurkes unmaym’d within her weeping walles: So, after all the spoile, disgrace, and wrake, That time, the world, and death could bring combin’d, Amidst that masse of ruines they did make, Safe and all scarre-lesse yet remaines my minde: From this so high transcending rapture springes, That I, all else defac’d, not envie kinges."
Young though he was, his radiant energy produced such an impression of absolute reliability that Hedgewar made him the first sarkaryavah, or general secretary, of the RSS.
- Gopal Mukund Huddar
Largely because of the influence of communists in London, Huddar's conversion into an enthusiastic supporter of the fight against fascism was quick and smooth. The ease with which he crossed from one worldview to another betrays the fact that he had not properly understood the world he had grown in.
Huddar would have been 101 now had he been alive. But then centenaries are not celebrated only to register how old so and so would have been and when. They are usually celebrated to explore how much poorer our lives are without them. Maharashtrian public life is poorer without him. It is poorer for not having made the effort to recall an extraordinary life.
I regret I was not there to listen to Balaji Huddar's speech [...] No matter how many times you listen to him, his speeches are so delightful that you feel like listening to them again and again.
By the time he came out of Franco's prison, Huddar had relinquished many of his old ideas. He displayed a worldview completely different from that of the RSS, even though he continued to remain deferential to Hedgewar and maintained a personal relationship with him.