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By:

Ashok Rane

27 August 2024 at 10:18:04 am

Annaji Deshpande: A Pioneer Pracharak of the RSS

He placed Sangh ideology above personal and family considerations. After the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) was founded on Vijayadashami in 1925, its work spread across Nagpur and Vidarbha within a few years. Guru Pujan festivals and Sangh camps were launched, and expansion activities gathered momentum. RSS founder Dr. Keshav Baliram Hedgewar aimed to spread Sangh work across Maharashtra and other provinces. As a result, 1939–1940 became a crucial period for the organisation's growth....

Annaji Deshpande: A Pioneer Pracharak of the RSS

He placed Sangh ideology above personal and family considerations. After the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) was founded on Vijayadashami in 1925, its work spread across Nagpur and Vidarbha within a few years. Guru Pujan festivals and Sangh camps were launched, and expansion activities gathered momentum. RSS founder Dr. Keshav Baliram Hedgewar aimed to spread Sangh work across Maharashtra and other provinces. As a result, 1939–1940 became a crucial period for the organisation's growth. During these years, young Swayamsevaks from Nagpur moved to different parts of the country and established Sangh work there. Among the Swayamsevaks who went to other provinces, Krishnarao Harihar Deshpande holds a prominent place in Sangh history. A first-batch pracharak, he was sent to Bihar, where he established Sangh work despite challenges such as unfamiliarity with the local language, lack of contacts, limited transport, financial constraints and inadequate accommodation. Today, the Sangh’s nationwide presence owes much to the tireless efforts of the first-batch pracharaks. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the Sangh’s centenary is the result of the dedication and sacrifice of countless Sangh workers. Krishnarao Harihar “Annaji” Deshpande was born in Nagpur on 11 June 1919. He studied at Fate School in Mahal before his family moved to Dharmapeth, then a centre of Sangh activity. With Sangh workers frequently visiting their home, Annaji absorbed Sangh values from an early age. He came into direct contact with Sangh work in 1930 and went to Bihar as a full-time pracharak in 1939. While a pracharak, he completed his graduation and post-graduation from Patna University. Pracharak in Bihar In 1939, Dr. Hedgewar visited the Deshpande home in Dharmapeth and suggested that Annaji go to Bihar for higher studies while carrying out Sangh work. Annaji went to Bhagalpur as a pracharak, earning B.Sc. and M.Sc. degrees while building the organisation there. He returned to Nagpur in 1944 and joined the Nagpur Agricultural College. On 10 March 1945, Annaji married Vimal Balkrishna Pimparikar of Amravati. Soon after, he lost his job for participating in the Satyagraha against the ban on the Sangh following Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination and his imprisonment. He placed Sangh ideology above personal and family considerations. He later pursued private business alongside higher studies, earning M.Ed., LL.B. and Ph.D. degrees. In 1952, he joined a B.Ed. college in Nagpur and later headed its Department of Education. He was the first person from Vidarbha to earn the Acharya degree in education. Despite professional responsibilities, he remained deeply involved in Sangh work. He served as Karyavah of the Dharmapeth Shakha and later as Vibhag Karyavah. Under his guidance, many Dharmapeth pracharaks helped expand Sangh work. His son, Sunilji Deshpande, also became a pracharak in 1982 and currently holds the responsibility of Akhil Bharatiya Sah-Sampark (All-India Joint Contact) in the Sangh. Gandhinagar 261 Owing to his commitment to social harmony and selfless service, the Deshpande residence in Dharmapeth became a centre of Sangh activity in the 1960s. The family later moved to Gandhinagar 261, where their home became a gathering point for Swayamsevaks. Sangh office-bearers were frequent visitors, and after the formation of the Bharatiya Jana Sangh, the residence also functioned as an office for the Sangh, Jana Sangh and Vishva Hindu Parishad. Smt. Vimaltai was actively involved in the women’s wing of the Jana Sangh, while Annaji devoted himself to the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, Vishva Hindu Parishad and Dharmapeth Education Society. During the 1962 and 1967 Lok Sabha elections, the Deshpande residence effectively served as the Jana Sangh office. Their home at 261, Gandhinagar, became a support centre for Swayamsevaks and workers. At a time when telephones were rare, its number—24779—was widely regarded as a public phone for the area, and messages received there reliably reached their recipients. Even today, veteran Nagpur workers fondly recall Annaji Deshpande, his home at 261 Gandhinagar, and the well-known telephone number 24779. Sarsanghchalaks Association Annaji Deshpande came into full contact with the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh in 1930 and remained devoted to its work until his passing in 2009, dedicating nearly 75 years to the organisation. Throughout, he received steadfast support from his wife, Smt. Vimaltai. He had the privilege of associating with RSS founder Dr. Hedgewar and successive Sangh leaders, including Pujya Shri Golwalkar Guruji, Balasaheb Deoras, Sudarshanji and Mohan Bhagwat. He also received guidance from senior pracharaks such as Bhaurao Deoras and Sheshadriji. The highly educated Annaji Deshpande was a source of knowledge for students and ordinary people and a pillar of strength for Sangh workers. His words and actions were always in harmony. He served as president of the Dharmapeth Education Society, Vidarbha provincial secretary of the Vishva Hindu Parishad, and mentor to several Sangh-affiliated organisations. After a life of dedicated service, Annaji Deshpande passed away on 23 September 2009. (The writer is a resident of Akola. Views personal.)

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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