This high level of consciousness and experience among textile workers came from a long tradition of indigeous organisation within the mills, primarily  the storm of  mill committeesd Some of the earilest mill commIttees were formed in 1908 when Bal Gangadhar T ilak adv ised jobbers to organise in this manner for the purpose of discouraging workers from drinking liquor. But one of the first actions of these committees was to organise a total strike in protest against Tilak's conviction and deporta- tion by the British Government.* 

Dange's Girni Kamgar Union (GKU)had therefore made a provision in its constitution to channelise the workers' initiative and provided for the formation of mill committees to be established and run by workers at the" factory level. But the constitution did not give these committees the individual power to call a strike and they were meant to act as 'purely advisory' bodies. But, as Dange soon found, the committees could not be compelled to restrict their sphere of activity. After the 1929 strike mill committees functioned as rival authorities in the mills and used lightning strikes to assert their power. Dange told the court during his trial in the Meerut conspiracy case: "They (mill committees) took initiative and powers of their own accord and it was against my principles to lessen their initiative by pointing out the letter of the constitution. They were controlled only so far as to guide their actions in a disciplined channel, conformable with the general interests of all the workers, and to give them a proper perspective in matters which were immediately beyond their com- prehension and in which therefore their individual actions were likely to conflict with the general line of movement.'3 

The mill committees, in Dange's view, were schools of learning where the workers would learn the whole mechanism of production and distribu tion, and become capable of exercising control when the factories were nationalised. The mill committees were also a means of reading the pulse of the union: "They are advisory in the sense that they advise the central leadership on the workers' mood, their grievances, the state of organisation and the steps that are to be taken on a scale larger than that of one individual mill or factory." 

Dange made scathing remarks about the role of non-militant trade unions which, ironically, were equally valid half a century later in 1982: "Afraid of displeasing the bourgeoisie, (the reformist trade unions) do not want the mill committees or factory councils to take initiative in direct action, where necessary, in India. They want to keep these committees as 'purely applicant bodies', standing in all humility before the trade unions bureaucracy sitting at the head office." But eventually the character and nature of the organisation Dange built also changed, to become less radical and militant. And in 1983 another trade unionist of the communist tradition, Yashwant Chavan, noted that the left trade unions are "very hostile to this concept of mill committees. They use mill committees gave strenght to the workers for fighting day-to-day harassment." The committees of the late 1920s did not survive beyond the strike of 1934, when the communists faced severe repression and militant activity among textile workers declined. But the basic instinct, crystallised and channelized by mill committees, survived over the decades to reassert itself from time to time and was responsible for the historic strike of 1982. 

Discussions and activity in the mill committees preceded the tidal wave that swept through the mill areas and headed for Ghatkopar. Thus, when I Ithe workers promised to manage the strike them- selves they acknowledged the magnitude of the talk and were confident of the machinery through which it could be accomplished. The RMMS bosses, had typically failed to understand the mill committee phenomenon. Even with the benefit of hind- sight, RMMS General Secretary Bhai Bhosale insisted that mill committees were no more than a means for other unions to enter the textile mills:  "They (mill committee) are alright for some purpose like inviting Samant." Bhosale acknowledged that the committees might have some potential to curb malpractices of managements but "we have not taught them." Bhosale also refused to make any allowance for the workers' innate organisational abilities, saying that "workers forming their own union is a good idea, but -old affiliations remain and nothing much can come of it (such independent efforts). We have seen for the last 20 years". 

This attitude made it impossible for Bhosale and others like him to perceive the depth of enthusia- sm, excitement and organisation that marked the first few months of strike. P.N.Samarit later re- called: "In the first month they (workers) had tents in front of the mill gates and were very well, organised. They would sit there, celebrate the strike and enjoy -we (MGKU officials) were also roaming about." All this changed with the imposition of section 144 outside the mills. Samant clai- med that the order had been imposed because the millowners wanted to remove stocks piled up in the mills and were afraid the workers would prevent them if allowed to congregate around the mill gates. Hundreds of workers were arrested following the imposition of  the order. At this point 
Vidyadhar Budbadkar, one of Samant's most dynamic young lieutenants, regularly met with Salaskar and Mandre, an aged worker from Kohinoor Mills. The three of them often met under a tree on the Empire Dyeing compound to discuss developments in the strike and explore possibilities of a future course of action. It was at these sessions that the concept of zone committees was discussed and formulated. The two veterans, Salaskar and Mandre, recognized that the mill committees in their ori- ginal form had limited use in maintaining the strike and there was a need for a wider body which would perform the same function at a larger level. Budbadkar elaborated upon the idea and by March five zones had been demarcated, one each for the Kala Chowki area, Delile Road, Saat Rasta, Worli and Dadar. 

The establishment of the zone committees was coordinated by the Ghatkopar office. The activists of all mill committees were called there and 12 of the most active workers in each mill were selected for membership of the zone committee of their area. Many of these workers were not members of their mill committee but were selected for the zone committee on the basis of the depth of their involvement in the strike. Positions and titles had little relevance in the thick of battle and everyone who was fighting fit did whatever was in his capacity. In May, a general meeting of all zone commi- ttees was called at the union headquarters and their role was clearly defined. The zone committees were essentially expected to intensify the struggle, organise workers, hold public meetings and maintain contact with the workers in their homes. The mill committees, about six in every zone, conti- nued to function in coordination with the zone committees and began a door-to-door campaign of meeting workers, to appraise them of the situation and ensure their active participation in the strike. At another level of zone committee activists met at Samant's office in Ghatkopar every week to give an account of the situation in their area and whenever heeded, to take advice from the MGKU leadership which, at this juncture, consisted of Dr. Samant., P.N.Samant and T .S.Borade. 
 

In a highly organised manner some mill committee representatives chose a place near the mill where all the workers were required to come every morning and sign on a roster. (Workers leaving for the villages were required to inform the committee. This allowed the committee not only to keep track of the number of workers still on strike but 'also helped them to identify who was eligible for strike benefits if and when some were available. Mill committee leaders, who, met privately in strategy sessions, often addressed the rank and file with information about fresh developments on the strike situation and called for solidarity. This regular contact allowed them to accurately gauge the level of morale and take action to boost it when found flagging. In several instances the committees of different mills held joint meetings. On a few occassions they also organised free meals with the help of sympathetic organisations. Such programmes provided little material assistance but were intended to, and did, boost the workers' morale. When workers gathered in thousands at such occassions the mood was not only aggressive but also festive. Mill level leaders made speeches, others distributed 
leaflets and copies of Shramik Vichar while workers I exchanged notes with each other. 
 

The government responded to these campaigns of the zone committees by extending section 144 in the entire mill area and thus prohibiting gatherings of five or more people in a vast area of the city. (Earlier the order had been imposed only around the gates of the mills). Over 116 strike activists were arrested. P.N.Samant was arrested while addressing a meeting in the mill area. Salaskar was also arrested. Vidyadhar Budbadkar and five others were arrested under the NSA. Wherever even ten or less workers gathered at one place the police would swoop down and arrest them. Earlier the workers had gathered in the open spaces around their chawls and bast is. The workers of Sriram Mills, for instance, lined up under a tree in a compound near the mill to note their attendance on the roster. 

Meanwhile, the main activists of the mill committee would sit in the tea shop next door and map strategies for their immediate needs. Most of them were slightly brash young men with an air of aggressive defiance. They were cautious of stran- gers and at first spoke hesistantly. Any suggestion about the inevitable failure of the strike aroused instant anger among these young men. They had more than the emotional fervour and almost reli- gious faith of a Lata Shelke. In the eyes of these young men was the cold look of die-hard zealots. Most of them were badli workers who felt they had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Vishnu Rane, 25, a worker of Srinivas Mills was among those young men who formed the backbone of the strike. An SSC graduate with the look of a smart college student, Rane was a leader in the Srinivas Mill committee. Rane and his friends had a simple manner of articulating their views which was Surprisingly devoid of rhetoric. But then Rane, like others in his ranks, was no ideologue. He belonged to a set which was assertive and even included rougher goonda elements. Ironically, some of these goondas were first inducted into the mills by the RMMS to protect its own interests. But in the turbulent times of the strike some of their henchmen also turhed against the RMMS. This was one of the factors which helped to explain the growing assertivehess of workers' committees under the nose of the RMMS. With the help' of such erstwhile goonda elements, organisers like Rane were able to mount a strong Campaign  to counter the efforts of the RMMS and millowners to force workers back into the mills. They always rerhalned reluctant to reveal details about their operations and even' had a 'bodyguard front' which remained unidentified not only to the police but also to much of the rank and file of strikers. Violence and counter violent tactics were the forte of groups like the one led by unassuming and harmless looking Rane. Rane and his friends earned notoriety when petrol bombs were  thrown on a bus of 'loyal' Srinivas Mill workers, killing two and injuring nine others. Five of the activists were eventually sentenced to life imprisonment. Rane was acquitted. 

When the police began raiding the meeting places of these groups most. of the activists went under- ground. Those who remained in circulation kept a low profile and set up offices in obscure chawls where workers came one by one throughout the day and marked their attendance. Some, however, continued to fight the battle o:n a violent front. But such actions invited intensified police action against the strikers. Many of them stopped sleeping at home since the police often pounced on them late at night. In many cases the families of the workers were besieged and harassed by the police.* 

The police also arrested workers at random and held them in lock-up overnight, or for a day or two, without pressing specific charges. Like the activists before them the police went door to door ordering workers to return to work, using arbitrary lock-ups as a threat. The strikers were located and threatened by the police with the Qirect collusion of the RMM5 functionaries. The zone committees, however, continued to function 'underground.Most of their activists, except those arrested under NSA,  were released within two weeks. According to Gurbir Singh of the Navjawan Bharat Sabha (NBS), which supported the strike for the first ten months there were essentiall y two forms of police terror . The first consisted of' general harassment, under which workers were picked up and kept in the lock-up for upto one month under section 151 of the CRCP. The second form grew out of the local police officials, need to show that they were actively dealing with incidents of violence. "So they made arrests to show to the higher authorities," explained Gurbir Singh, "and the police got lists of activists directly from the mills." 

A similar process was at work in the villages where textile workers had sought refuge. The 

government estimated that 50% of the workers had gone to the villages, but the MGKU put the figure as high as 70%. About 97% of textile workers come from outside Bombay, and 32% live in the city without their families. Though these workers by and large have no substantial land holdings, they retain strong links with kith and kin in the villages. Since the wages of the male worker in the city have usually been a major source of sustenance for the workers' immediate family and relatives in the village, it was all the more remarkable that his rural relatives could not only manage without his  input but also support him. These urban-rural linkages of the workers played a major role in sustaining the strike effort for such a long period. 

In areas with a strong concentration of textile workers, strike activists went on bicycles from village to village, in groups of five to ten. 4 They shouted slogans along the way and held meetings, where they read out reports on the progress of the strike in Bombay. The workers had gone to the villages with the intention of staying away for six to eight months, which was their initial estimate of the duration of the strike. Even after this period was over they remained determined to return to Bombay only when called by Samant. There was correspondingly a firm belief that Samant would not give the call to return till the battle had been won. 

Sarva Shramik Sangh activists in Pune reported that workers in villages around that city needed little organising and convincing in the first six months  -when they kept the struggle alive on their own strength.. But the reach of the RMMS also extended to these villages and this was used to exert pressure on the strikers to return to work. The entire kulak elite, including the sarpanch and other powerful men of the village hierarchy supported the RMMS in its "efforts to persuade and bully workers to return to work. The Economic and Political Weekly reported in September 1982 that "the village governmental structure has also been used, with notices sent to every potice patil asking for the names of the striking workers and asking him to approach them and convince them to go back"... 

However, these exhortations had no impact on workers and only served to further convince them of the nexus between the urban-rural elite and the governmental structure. A knowledge of the theory and history of class struggle was not necessary to perceive this nexus and most of the activists had no links with the communist parties or Marxist traditions of the older workers. These youths found their ideal not in a political party but in Samant, who had no professed ideology or specific long-term aim. For it was' Samant who was forging the links between urban and rural workers that 'revolutionary' parties had merely theorized about. 

Samant made his debut on the rural scene on February 21 at a conference of agricultural labourers at Satana in Nasik district, organised by the Lal Nishan Party (LNP). Following this Samant and 
Yashwant Chavan went on tour of three southern districts of Maharashtra. Thousands of peasants and the textile workers gathered at planned and spontaneous -meetings, to meet and hear Samant. Most of such meetings were organised by the workers and rural poor themselves with only some help from activists of Samant's union or the Lal Nishan Party. Samant's' message to those who 
attended these meetings was that the urban and rural workers must unite to fight against the monied elite of both town and country. 

The Economic and Political Weekly reported in September 1982 that Samant's tour, early in the strike was a resounding success. Workers and their poor peasant relatives and friends turned out in masses of upto twenty to thirty thousand for meetings in the bigger villages, and often gathered to force spontaneous unscheduled meetings on the way or to turn planned 'road visits' into full-scale rallies complete wIth processions through the villages. These meetings were nearly all organlsed by the workers and rural poor themselves, with some preparatory help of textile union activists from Datta Samant's Maharashtra Girni Kamgar Union and the LNP's Kapad Kamgar Sanghatana. Just as  in the Satana conference, they were marked by expressions of unity between workers and rural toilers and hostility against the rich farmer elite. Few of this elite or their political representatives attended the workers' meetings and when they did they often found a highly uncogenial atmosphere. At Uttur In Kolhapur district a sarpanch grew intensely disturbed at talk by LNP organiser Santaram Patil on agricultural labourers' problems and the need for unity, he rose to protest "just talk about workers, why are you bringing in politics," and was ignored. In the following speech Datts Samant himself took up the theme saying that workers could not afford to stay away from politics, that they had experience of all the ruling parties betraying them, and that 'the sarpanch's party should send a resolution through the grampanchayat supporting the strike. And the man was besieged by workers afterwards pressing this demand.5 
 
On such tours of the rural areas Samant collected grains from the peasants and strengthened solidarity among the striking workers in the rural area consequently, the workers in the villages enthusiastically participated in bandhs and gheraos of M.L.As and government officials. At one point there were innumerable tales circulating about how RMMS activists, sent to counter the strikers' campaign were hounded out of villages by striking workers. 

The CPI and CPM had from the outset, opposed the large scale migration of strikers into the villa- ges on the grounds that this would damage the dynamic momentum of the strike. The momentum, however, was maintained by workers in the city who through the broad-based area committees managed to cut across all trade union and party affiliations to create solidarity among a diverse variety of industrial workers, while at the higher level various major unions including the LIC workers, Western Railway workers, Glaxo, R.C.F. etc., contributed cash and grains to the strike efforts. These area committees took receipt book from the MGKU and collected thousands of rupees for the strikers from individuals. Thus these area committees played a key role in keeping the strike alive. The Chembur Kamgar Samiti was a prime example of this and in time became the most famous of the committees. This Samiti was born out of the efforts of a handful of non-textile workers (some of them in white-collar jobs) who wanted to participate in the strike effort. Samant's answer to all such people who offered him their help was that they should help educate the workers to keep morale high and provide aid through supply of free grain. The textile workers living in Chembur worked along with such active supporters from the RCF and other units to organise a body aimed at providing a joint forum for all workers and consoli- dating the strike effort. 

The Samiti was divided into sections. One group was incharge of running the meetings. A second" group was in charge of distributing food. A third group (known as Sangharsh Vibhag) was in charge of keeping in touch with the MGKU office and prov iding adequate support for all centrally organi- sed protest actions like morchas and dhamas. A fourth group, called Sanghatana Vibhag was responsible for encouraging further proliferation of such committees. A fifth group was in charge of encouraging the use of militant songs and dramas (to spread the message and spirit of the strike). A sixth group was responsible for explaining the implications of the latest developments to the strikers. Each group had five or six activists. Among their more successful actions was a morcha taken to the local housing board office where the officials were persuaded not to forcibly demand rent from tex- tile workers while the strike lasted. 

As stated earlier, the area committees were created partly for logistical reasons. Apart from the problems created by the "widespread imposition of section l44, it was also expensive and inconve- nient for workers living outside the mill area to travel every day to the mill committee's gathering spot near the mill. The area committees were meant to perform the same function in the suburbs. The workers could sign on the muster roll maintained by th area committee and also keep informed about developments. 

Apart from raising funds from workers in other  industrial units these committees also organised madat pheries -donation collection rounds in the streets of their neighbourhood. For example, the Oharavi committee (which had about 10 main activists) with only 1040 textile workers as its core membership was able to raise enough funds to distribute 1200 books free to children of textile workers when schools reopened in June. These area committees coordinated their activities with the mill committees and MGKU head office to partici- pate in strike related programmes. 

Most area committee activists felt a great sense of pride and satisfaction about their non-hierarchical style of functioning. They tirelessly stressed that among them there were no bosses and all decisions were taken by consensus. Though deepiy sincere and full of conv iction these activists also displayed a painful, probably inevitable, streak of naivete. For they frequently said quite earnestly that "the workers must unite and tell the government that we are one, peacefully.f' Implicit in such statements was the belief that if the government could only be convinced about the solidarity of the workers it would relent and take the necessary action in their favour. There was a tendency to over-look just how strongly the government was committed to crushing the struggle, and Samant, at any cost. Therefore, many area committee activists were not aware, till it was too late, of just how heavily the odds were stacked against them. They were also not severely bitter or critical of Samant's handling of the strike until the strike was a year old.* 

Samant had used mill comittees before in a variety of industrial units where he had taken over the union. The established trade unionists had criticised these committees as 'mere' strike committees. The current stage of capitalism, it was argued, rendered them grossly inadequate and incompetent.. These committees of Samant's were also, moreover, largely undemocratic and hence in spirit bureaucratic and vulnerable to corruption, co-optation and distortion.6  

The same could not be said of the area committees, and later zone committees, of the textile , strike. (Though in many ways the strike was a natural culmination of the Samant style.) Their internal functioning was by and large democratic. Regardless of their level of proficiency against this stage of capitalism, these committees represented and provided to the rank and file -abetter fighting chance than the methods of the established trade unions.. Here, in operation was the working class solidarity that the "petty bourgeois intellectual bookworms"7, condemned by Dange, had only theorised about and debated. As with many other aspects of the strike there is a temptation to romanticise the workers' solidarity. But the success of the group formations which made this solidarity possible must not be over-rated or exaggerated. There were, ofcourse, major differences of opinion on the handling of the strike -within the mill and area committees. Those who disagreed with Samant, or some who even gently questioned his plans and actions, came away deeply embittered. The committees had some inherent limitations and could not prevent much of the rank and file from often feeling that they were floundering in the dark. Even as he held his position, still defiant and determined, the textile workers knew it was not enough to be assured of a light at the end of the tunnel when he often could not see it himself. 

Those who ventured into the workers' dark chawls past the sixth month point of the strike, confronted the sad reality of an inexorable struggle which would not end and was rapidly sapping the strength of the beleaguered army. Signs of battle fatigue were visible in even the most zealous and relent- less fighters. 

Within six months of the strike, the once bright and cheerful Lata seemed to have aged beyond her years. She talked mournfully about her youth spent in that dark and dismal hut and Khandeo's prime years gone amid the heat. and deafening noise of loom sheds. There was regret and a sense of doom of one who has burnt all bridges and finds only closed doors ahead. By then, Lata was running  her household on the income from a pan-bidi shop she, and her husband had opened in an outer corner of their 10' by 10' hut. Since the daily profit of about Rs.12 from this shop was not enough to feed a family of seven, Lata took to different types of handicrafts to earn money. But the proud Khandeo Shelke would not allow his wife to work outside the house to earn a wage, like hundreds of other women who had taken to selling vegetables or doing manual labour. The sparkle in Lata's eyes had dimmed and her lack-lustre face spoke of a strain which had to be experienced to be understood. 
There were also underlying fears of intimidation by violence. The workers, Lata said one day, had to choose between life and going to work -"so they don't go. Khandeo keeps saying I'll go now this month but he never goes. We are already in debt to my sister for about Rs.7,000. Whatever can't be noticed (by neighbours) we have mortgaged -but not the utensils because then people will laugh. My brother has helped on a monthly basis. Thanks to God thece is at least family unity. But all around there is fear -millowners are not taking badlis or activists (back into the mills). What will happen... ?" As she talked about the strike and its all pervasive effect on her life Lata looked blankly around her. If she still continued to march along with the others it was with the weariness of one who wants only an end to the fighting -little caring whether it is in victory or defeat. But her mind remained lucid and her perceptions became even sharper. She one day compared herself and fellow textile workers to the refugees of Bangladesh and said, "They came to our cities and lived on our footpaths -where will we go... we are already on the footpaths."* 

For over two lakh men and women like Lata such moments of doubt and deep despair alternated 

with hope and a reaffirmation of faith. While fear of violence played its part, much of the power exercised by the mill committee activists was based on rekindling the basic sentiments which had generated the tidal wave of support for a prolonged strike. As S.B.Modak, a mill committee official said: "Workers are even eating half their normal food qnd livihg somehow and passing the time fight- ing for the future -now we are not scared." There were, of course, dissenters among the-- strikers - many were among the older generation of workers, who had a long association with the RMMS. Bapu Bale Mane, in his late fifties, belonged to this category. By June '82 Mane insisted that one-third of the workers wanted to return but were prevented by fear of violence from strikers. Mane's view of the strike was dominated by a sense of hopeless- ness. To him there was nothing heroic about the younger workers waging a war he knew they could not win. 

Outside the realm of the mills where the strike was not a day-to-day reality, the popular perception of the strike was similar to Mane's. As early as April 19, a Maharashtra bandh called by Samant in support of the then three months old strike was only a partial success.* But contrary to popular expectations this did not signal the end of the strike. The fact that Samant regularly threatened to launch a jail bharo andolan without actually doing so was also seen as a sign of weakness. Many strike activists had felt from the outset that Samant was not planning enough agitational mass actions. 

Samant's detractors were not far wrong when they accused him of lacking enough active participants for a jail bharo andolan. With over 60% to 70% of the workers in the villages and those in the city busy earning a living by any means possible, there was a limited number of workers available to court arrest. Thus the union first opted for actions like demonstrations in front of the homes of MLAs -a programme jointly organised with the Trade Union Joint Action Committee (TUJAC). Though the agitators were quickly picked up by the police, such events helped to highlight the strike in the press. It reminded the inhabitants of that parallel world that the strike was not fizzling out, as they had expected, and was instead going strong. Such events even compelled the millowners to admit that the strike continued.* 

The millowners' hopes for an early fizzting out soared when Samant lost the Thane Lok Sabha by- election in May 1982. Though Sqmant was careful not to make the Thane election a central issue in the strike his fate in this contest was taken by many industrialists as an indication of  his  future 

and that of the textile strike. Though Samant lost the election he managed to split the Congress(I) vote to ensure the defeat of its candidate and the v ictory of the BJP. candidate. 

Far from demoralising the textile workers this defeat worked in Samant's favour. His decision to contest the election had actually disenchanted some sections of the strike activists. They feared that if Samant was elected to the Lok Sabha he would go the way of George Fernandes -getting embroiled .in the petty party and power politics of Delhi at the cost of the interests of thousands of workers who had reposed their faith in him. Moreover, the demographics of the Thane Lok Sabha constituency were such that a defeat for Samant there did not necessarily indicate the same of his following among the textile workers. The BJP victory was largely the result of support from shopkeepers and petty businessmen who formed a sizeable segment of the electorate in the constituency. There was also a large 'Agri' caste vote which went to the BJP since its candidate, Jagannath Patil, belonged to that community.8 Samant's failure to win the support of the entire working class segment, in the many varied industrial units of the Thane-Belapur belt, did not automatically spell doom for his position in the textile mills. 

While the anti-strike forces were quick to claim that Samant's defeat in this election would soon diminish his following, their actions were contradictory. When Samant announced his jail bharo cam- paign shortly after the election defeat, .the then Chief Minister Babasaheb Bhosale addressed a rally at the RMMS's Mazdoor Manzil and commanded Congress(l) MLAs to seek out mill-workers and convince them to return to work. This was an unwitting admission that Samant's election defeat had not had the expected impact on the strikers. The intensified RMMS activity was based on the premise that with the end of the harvest season and reopening of schools, the workers in the villages would be compelled to return to the city. In the absence of an agreement the disappointed workers were expected to trickle back into the mills. But the workers did not pour back into the city. Samant had sent activists who put up posters in the villages urging workers to remain there. Those in the city remained adamant about returning only with benefits in hand. In this context, Samant's jail bharo call was a direct response to the workers demand for action instead of just speeches. But frayed nerves and short tempers at the MGKU office were evidence of the high tension existence of its inhabitants. Questioned by a reporter about future strategy in case the jail. bharo andolan failed. P .N.Samant burst into a tirade against the press accusing it of only "looking for sensational developments and asking what is happening next-nothing has to happen."* 

When both Samant's election defeat and the onset of rains did not bring workers back into the mills, the millowners were compelled to acknowledge that the strike had surpassed all their expectations. Gradually the millowners began to reassess the situation and found that there may after all be some good in evil and misfortune. For them Samant was both.