Hansraj "Wireless"

The Legend of Hansraj “Wireless”

This blog is just an effort of sorts to put on record what all is known by me of this extraordinary person, namely Hansraj “Wireless”. Since he is known by this name Wireless, I won’t put this word in quotes anymore. This is more or less his real name now.

Info about Hansraj Wireless is sketchy in the extreme. Even Wikipedia doesn’t have much on him. Google all you like, and the only info one does get is that he was involved in an abortive plot to assassinate a Viceroy, Lord Irwin by blowing up his train near what is now known as ITO Bridge in Delhi.

So, here’s the precious little that I’ve gathered about Hansraj Wireless:

He was a Punjabi, said to be of the Ramgarhia community. This info is probably correct because Ramgarhias are clever with their hands, adept with tools and machinery of all kinds, and claim Vishwakarma as their patron saint or God.

Hansraj Wireless was probably born in the early 20^th Century, or maybe even at the fag end of the 19^th. He was a self taught enthusiast in the then fairly new technology of electricity, and the even newer science of electronics. He was a genius with electronic circuits and dabbled in radio, wireless and remote control. Only, in those days the term Remote Control wasn’t in vogue, the accepted phrase being Radio Control. This talent of his explains his nickname Wireless. This is quite remarkable considering that few parts of India even had electricity.

Since he dabbled in remote control circuits, it seems the revolutionaries drew him to their fold and got him to rig up a circuit for blowing up the VIP train. The explosives exploded all right, but they seem to have been of insufficient power and the Viceroy survived.

Hansraj thereafter formed (or joined) a revolutionary group in Punjab called the Atishi Chakkar (Fiery Circle). But this soon broke up after an abortive attempt to assassinate the Punjab Governor. And then, according to a Pakistani blog http://knowmeknowsindh.blogspot.in/2016/05/freedom-fighter-hansraj-wireless-in.html he fled to Sindh Province, where he continued his revolutionary activities. Then he was arrested and jailed in Hyderabad (Sindh). According to this blog, the case of Hansraj Wireless was discussed at length in the Sindh Legislative Assembly. Then, it appears that he was released on health grounds and promising to eschew violence. Interestingly, the proceedings of the Assembly constantly refer to him as Hansraj (Wireless).

After that Hansraj Wireless drops off the radar. Then he re-surfaces in the early ’Forties. He now becomes a showman exhibiting his extraordinary gadgets to a paying audience. Patent? He never applied for one, or if he did, he was never granted one. His gadgets ranged from the mundane radio-telephony to various contraptions operated by remote control.

In the mid Forties, about 1944 or 1945, he had his show in Lahore. Father, who was a college student there, didn’t go, but his good friend, late Shri Attar Singh did. He came back full of wonder at all the things he had seen. He described an automatic shoe polishing machine which polished both your shoes, but clamped a tight hold over the second foot until the owner of the foot had put in the requisite coin in the slot. Another device was an electric bulb which lit up or went off by Hansraj standing at a distance and signalling with a hand. Like a good showman, he would open his palm and raise the hand, and the bulb would come on. Then he would lower the hand and close the palm; the bulb would go off. Infra-red sensors were not exactly in use use in those days. So how did he do it? Yet another contrivance was a recording device which recorded sound on a spool of thread (probably coated with some magnetic material. One must remember that in those days magnetic recording tape was unheard of. The nearest thing in the market was a wire recorder, which did the recording on a steel wire drawn at quite high speed over the magnetic sensor.

Then India became independent and Hansraj Wireless started doing the fairgrounds circuit in independent India, mostly in Punjab. He took his show from one important fair in North India to the next. But by now he seems to have gotten a bit tired and jaded. Shri Chand Kishore, who lives in Kullu, said that he has seen his show when it came to town sometime in the 1950s. It was a full-fledged show of three hours; entry by ticket. Shri Chand Kishore also describes the same shoe polishing machine which Sh. Attar Singh had seen about a decade back. Apart from that, Hansraj Wireless demonstrated another trick. A motor car drove up after Hansraj Wireless had set up his apparatus. As soon as Hansraj Wireless, sitting on the sidelines pressed a button, the engine went dead and the car came to a halt. Hansraj Wireless claimed that he had made the device which made the ignition coil (which makes the spark plugs of the petrol engine to burn the fuel) go dead. Now it’s hard to say if he really did that or it was a trick car, which one might expect from a fairground conjurer. And yes, there was no wire or anything physical contact between Hansraj Wireless’s apparatus and the car.

I grew up hearing this man’s name off and on but never got to know any more about him. I know a person in Pathankot, a Ramgarhia Sikh, who claims that Hansraj Wireless was related to him in some way. He says that Hansraj Wireless died sometime in the Sixties leaving a daughter. Before dying, my friend claims, Hansraj Wireless built a house for her near a powerline. He had rigged up some circuitry which supplied the house with free electricity by induction from the overhead lines.

Thus, all the info that I’ve gathered so far is hearsay. No records, but maybe in some old newspaper archives there might be news items about Hansraj Wireless. I’ll be interested to know if folks can add to the above or correct it if wrong.

An Education by Eavesdropping

One day in May 2016 (that’s to say yesterday) I had an educative experience by eavesdropping on a couple of characters.

Background

Our family owns a modest little hotel in Kullu town. This being the month of May the hotel is getting its share of customers. One room has been occupied for the last couple of days by a pair of guys in their thirties. Strangely, they’re always busy on their mobile phones and a laptop. There’s third guy too, but he only seems to the fetching-and-carrying type. These guys don’t show much interest in visiting the usual touristy haunts. Their favourite hangout seems to be the hotel rooftop and the steps leading to it. Busy sitting on the steps and yakking away.

I had a splitting headache and staggered up to a room next to those steps. This room isn’t exactly finished yet – my brother stays there – and I hoped for some peace on the hardbed next to the window. This window doesn’t have any glass as yet; only a wire mesh screen and a curtain. My peace and quiet was disturbed by a mobile call taking place on the steps a little more than 2 metres away. I ignored the conversation at first. But then I kept hearing words like Rupees, Credit Cards, Debit Cards. I was kind of drawn into the dialogue, as a passive listener.

The Spiel

The guy was obviously working through a list. He contacted about 7 or 8 people and the general drift of the (to me) one-sided conversation was like this:

“Hello. Good afternoon Sir. Is this Mr Amit (or whatever) speaking? I am Akshay from Onjob, from the Consultancy Department. You had applied through us and paid 28,900 rupees, right?” (The amount varied from Rs 18,000 to 30,000. He had the first few contacts’ amounts down correct. Then down the line he had to work by guesswork and gentle prodding).

“You made the payment online, is that correct?”

“Did you pay by Credit Card or Debit Card?”

“Well, I am sorry to say our Sales Department couldn’t get you a job to your satisfaction. You are to be refunded the amount of Rs. 28,900.”

“No, no, it doesn’t work like that. You see it is our Company policy to pay online payments by online payments, demand drafts by demand drafts… you see, this is Company policy; terms and conditions are there you know”.

If the guy at the other end didn’t give the brush-off – and only a couple of them did – he went on like this:

“You will get the refund after you complete some formalities. In a few minutes I will send you a link and give you a password. You click on that link and feed the password, then fill in the details. The refund amount will be immediately credited into your account within minutes”.

Of course, the conversation had some interesting variations from person to person. One went like this:

“Oh, you have contacted the office in Bangalore? Ye-e-s, we have a branch there. But our Company operates from NOIDA. Our Sales Department is there. Our Consultancy Department works from Faridabad.”

Another variant:

“When you applied, you paid a fee, right?”

“Eighteen hundred rupees? But I think you paid a very heavy amount …”

“Oh, one lakh rupees! I’ll check with the Sales Department to see what amount is due to you as refund. Then you will get the refund in a few minutes directly into your account.”

“OK, when you reach your office (the guy was obviously a techie on the graveyard shift) please come online and we will send you a link and give you a password..” etc.

Then he says in Hindi, “Kehta hai, atthara sau diye hain. Phir keheta hai ek lakh. Isse to main pel doonga” Loose translation: Guy says he paid eighteen hundred. Then he says one lakh. I will pel him. (Pel = squeeze juice from a sugarcane).

Some Interesting Facts

The guy who claims to be Akshay is registered in the hotel under another name. The photocopy of his Adhar Card says he is from Hardoi, UP.

I Googled a bit and found there is indeed a job-placing company called Onjob. There is also one called Injob (is case I misheard). Onjob.in has a website giving two addresses, both in Bangalore. Injob.com also has a website. It is an Italian company; no Indian branch.

There was another interesting fact about Onjob, which was spotted by an alert Sonia Rajput, who works in our office. This site hasn’t been active since mid-2015, at least till yesterday late afternoon. The site gives a phone number – only one number. I tried that number. First try: number busy. Second try: a few rings, then the computerised voice says the number is busy (means he probably cut me off). Third try: it rings and rings. Then the Voice says the number isn't answering. I mutter in Pahari "Swah kha" (eat ash) and hang up.

And Last

As i went back downstairs the second guy, the one who generally spoke little, said in Hindi "So-and-so is online." The last i heard the first guy was speaking on the phone and saying, "Your password is ..." followed by a string of numbers and letters,

I rang up Aditya, who is a techie in the IT Park in Manimajra, Chandigarh and told him the whole thing. His take: These guys may be legitimate and working while on vacation. And if they are not, they aren't using your phone or internet, are they?  So let them be. They can be ex-employees of that company and got the list somehow, which they are trying to milk. If the educated guys on their list are stupid enough to furnish their bank details, let them face the consequences. And you keep an eye on them, in case they skip out of the hotel without paying, coz a crook is after all, a crook. And be sure to save the CCTV pictures of these guys.

PS

Even as i finished typing up the previous paragraph, the phone rang and the guy said he was answering a missed call of yesterday, that he was from Bangalore. He confirmed he is from Onjob. He got quite agitated when i filled him in with the details. I just wanted to know if his company was really handing out refunds, and if the guy claiming to be Akshay was working for him under his real name. He wasn't, hadn't even heard the name. I advised him to alert all his customers/clients to beware of such calls. Now it's up to him, how he tells his clients while handling uncomfortable questions from them.