If an unknown Indian helped Austrian Jews avoid the Nazis

“Let me tell you a secret. Your Nano (Grandfather) helped Jewish families avoid the Nazis. “

That single proposal from his mother put a gupta gupt on his grandfather’s past. What he said is a fairy tale, more exciting than a fiction: a little-known act of heroism of the Indian businessman who risked everyone to save strangers in the darkest hour of Europe.

It was not just compassion; It was logistics, risk and determination. Returning to India, Kundanlal created the Jewish employment enterprises, built houses to place them – only to watch the British declare them as “enemy foreigners” and detained them as soon as the war began.

Kundanla’s life is read as an epic: a poor boy from Ludgi, who married 13, who sold everything: from wood and salt to laboratory circles and cats. He also managed the business of clothing and a match. He headed his class in Lahora – joining the colonial public service at the age of 22, only retired from all this to participate in the Movement for Freedom and Life of Construction Plants.

He shook his hand to the Indian Independence leader, and then the first Prime Minister Jawharlal Nera and crossed the ways with actress Davik Rani on a steamer to Europe.

In the rescue in Vienna, the family memoir, Gupto reveals the unusual Indian salvation of his grandfather on foreign soil – combined through family letters, interviews of survivors and historical records.

In the shadow of Hitler’s annexation in 1938, Austria Kundanlla, a machine manufacturer from Ludhian in the Northern State of Punjab, quietly offered Jewish professionals in India to receive their rescue visas. He offered work, providing livelihood and construction houses for these families in India.

Kundanlla saved five families.

Fritz Weiss, a 30-year-old Jewish lawyer, hid in the hospital, causing illness. Kundanlla was also in the same hospital to get treatment for the disease.

After the Nazis forced Vaisa to clear the streets with their own home, Kundanlol handed him a life circle: the proposal for work in fictional “Kundan agencies”. It received a visa to India.

Alfred Vachler, a master of woodworker, met Kundanlal, bringing his pregnant wife to the tests. He promised the future in furniture and exile sponsor, his family became one of the Jewish households that reached India from January 1938 to February 1939.

Hans Los, a textile technician, responded to Kundanla’s advertising in the Austrian newspaper for skilled workers. Proposed by the managerial role at the imaginary “Kundan fabric mills” in Ludhian – with housing, profit and a safe passage – he took the opportunity to start all over.

Alfred Shafranek, once the owner of the 50 staff factory, conveyed his skills to Kundanlal and was offered a role in the construction of the most modern plywood in India. His whole family, including his Mechanic Siegfried brother, was rescued.

And the Siegmund Retter, a businessman with machines, was one of Kundanla’s first approaches. When his business collapsed under the Nazi rule, Kundanlal started arranging his move to India to start again.

It all started with a hospital bed in Vienna.

Struggling with diabetes and hemorrhoids, Kundanlal, then 45, turned to new therapies and read about a specialist in Vienna. In 1938, recovering after surgery, he met Lucy and Alfred Vacitor, a young couple who was waiting for his first child. From them he learned about the growth of anti -Semitic violence and the destruction of Jewish life.

During the next few months he met other men. Kundanlol, who was encouraged to success, posted newspapers advertising, looking for skilled workers ready to move to India. Among the respondents were Wachsler, Losch, Schafranek and Retter. Kundanlla offered each work, financial guarantees and support to provide Indian visas.

“The strange aspect of all the complex schemes of Kundanla on behalf of these families was how close the mouth he remained by continuing the performance of technology to India until the very end,” Gupto writes.

“He did not shared his intention and plans with any Indian and British officials. His family learned about his plans only when he returned home later.”

In October 1938, Losch became the first of Kundanla’s recruits, who arrived in Ludgian.

He was welcomed at the Kundanla’s house – but found a little comfort in the quiet city, Gupta reports. Having a Jewish community, no cultural life and a fighting fabric, Losch left for a few weeks for Bombay (now Mumbai), citing bad working conditions and little chance of income. He never came back.

Weiss lasted even less – just under two months. The company, created for him, Kundana, has never soared. He soon moved to Bombay, found a job in the floor, and until 1947 moved to England.

Despite their departures, Kundanlal does not cause resentment, Gupta writes.

“My aunt told me that, on the contrary, Kundanlal was ashamed that he could not provide a lifestyle and social environment more suitable for the vein, and thought that if he had, two men, perhaps, remained in Ludhian.”

Not all stories ended this way.

Alfred and Lucy Vachler, with their babies, arrived on the sea, rail and road – finally retreating from the train to Ludhian.

They moved to the spacious house of Kundanlol, built for them next to another, prepared for Schafraneks. Alfred quickly created a furniture workshop using the Burmese Tick and a local Sikh working day to make elegant dining sets – one of which still survives in the author’s family.

In March 1939, Alfred Shafranek, his brother Siegfried, and their families arrived from Austria. They launched one of the earliest factories in India in the barn for two houses.

Alfred strongly pushed unprepared workers, determined to build something durable. Gupta writes, the work was intense, the Punjabh heat is unfamiliar, and the isolation is sensitive – especially for women who were mostly limited to inner life.

As the months passed in Ludhian, the initial relief gave way to boredom.

Men worked for long hours, while women, limited in language and isolation, continued home procedures.

In September 1939, Hitler invaded Poland. A few days later, Britain declared a war with Germany – the British Parliament involved India into the conflict. More than 2.5 million Indians would serve in the war, 87,000 never returned.

In Ludhian, the reality of the war quickly got into.

Until 1940, a new policy was ordered by all German citizens – Jewish or not – in the boarding camp.

The Wachsler and Schafranek families were forcibly relocated to the Purandhar Board near Puna (now Puna), located in bare barracks with gas lamps and minimal benefits. They did not commit crimes – only carried the wrong passport.

After all, the release was made possible – when they were able to find a paid job.

Alfred and Siegfried Shafranek provided roles by managing the new plywood in Bangalore and moved there with their families, starting at first. The Waxler family left the camp in 1942 after Alfred found a job in Karachi. Both families have never met again.

Purandhar’s camp closed in 1946, almost a year after the end of the war.

In 1948, Alfred Vacitor’s cousin sponsored American visas for refugees for the family. In October, they flew from Karachi, never returned to India. Schafraneks moved to Australia in 1947 after a successful plywood in Bangalore.

Studying the book, Gupta met Alex Vachler – whose father Alfredo also built a Burmese table – Stol Kundanla, which was used in his tiny office for 120 square feet. (Alfred died in 1973)

“Despite the fact that we have lived from the age of 10, and now in its eighties, Alex Vacker is still pine for his life in India, there is in Indian restaurants, enthralls with the Indians and surprises their knowledge of Urdu,” Gupta writes.

Returning to Ludhian, Kundanlol opened school for his daughters at home, soon expanding it to one of the oldest Punjab schools – he still works with 900 students. His wife Saraswati increasingly came out and fought with depression.

There were five children in Kundanlale and Saraswati, including four daughters. In 1965, Saraswati died after a tragic fall from his terrace. She spent recent years in silence, emotionally distant from the family. Kundanlla died a year later, 73, from a heart attack.

“The concept of a” passive observer “was anathema to Kundanla. If he saw something or anyone, it required attention, he was present on it, never intimidated the problem,” Gupta writes.

A suitable epitaph for a person whose heritage was not only business, but also calm, compassion and conviction.