Makers of Modern India

by Ramachandra Guha

  The question then arises: how is it possible to love those who consider themselves to be our enemies? Almost every week, I receive letters either from Hindus or from Mussalmans, sometimes from Christians, combating this fundamental position that I have taken up. If it is a Hindu who writes, then he asks me, ‘How is it possible for me to love a Mussalman who kills the cow, which is dear to me as my life?’ Or if it is a Christian who writes to me, he asks, ‘How is it possible to love Hindus who so ill-treat those whom they call untouchables, Hindus who have suppressed a fifth of their own numbers?’; and if it is a Mussalman who writes, he asks, ‘How is it possible to extend the hand of brotherhood or fellowship to Hindus who are worshippers of stock and stone?’ I say to all these three: ‘Your brotherhood is of no value to me if you cannot love the respective parties that you have described.’ But what does the attitude signify after all? Does it not signify cowardly fear or intolerance? If all of us are God’s creation, why should we fear one another or hate those who do not hold the same belief that we do? A Hindu will ask me, is he to sit or look on, while a Mussalman is doing something which is most repugnant to him? My brotherhood replies, ‘Yes’. And I add, ‘You must sacrifice yourself, or in the language you have just listened to, you must bear the cross. If you want to defend one who is dear to you, you must die without killing.’ I have personal experience of such occurrences.

  If you have the courage to suffer lovingly, you melt the stoniest heart. You may raise your hand against one whom you regard as a ruffian, but how if he overpowers you? Will not the ruffian be more ferocious because of his victory over you? Does not history show that evil feeds on resistance? History also furnishes instances of men having tamed the fiercest man with their all-embracing love. But I admit that such non-resistance requires far greater courage than that of a soldier who returns two blows against one. I also admit that if a man has anger instead of love in him for the evil-doer, it is better for him to fight clean rather than, in a cowardly manner, to sit still for fear of dying. Cowardice and brotherhood are contradictory terms. I know that the world does not accept the fundamental position that I have endeavoured to place before you. I know that in Christian Europe, this doctrine of non-retaliation is pooh-poohed.

  At the present moment, I am privileged to receive precious letters from friends all over Europe and America, some of them asking me to still further expound the doctrine of non-resistance. Some others are laughing at me and telling me: ‘It is all right for you to talk these things in India, but you dare not do so in Europe.’ Yet others tell me: ‘Our Christianity is a whitewash, we do not understand the message of Jesus, it has got to be still delivered to us, so that we can understand it.’ All these three positions are more or less right from the standpoint of the writers. But I venture to tell you that there is no peace for this world, and to take the name of brotherhood is a blasphemy, until we arrive at this fundamental position. Men there are who ask and so also women who ask: ‘Is it human to refrain from retaliation?’ I say it is human. Up to now we have not realized our humanity, we have not realized our dignity; we are supposed to be, if Darwin is to be believed, the descendants of monkeys, and I am afraid that we have not yet shed our original state.

  The late Dr. Anna Kingsford15 in one of her books wrote once: ‘As I walk about the streets of Paris, I seem to see before me diverse lions and snakes personified.’ She says these animals have only the human form but no more. Man, to realize his full stature, has to become absolutely fearless. This he will do not by being armed from head to foot, but by generating force from within. A Kshatriya is one who does not fly from danger, he is not one who strikes a blow for a blow. The Mahabharata says also that forgiveness is the quality of a brave man. There is a statue erected, I am told, in the memory of the late General Gordon.16 The sculptor does not put a sword in his hands, he puts only a stick. It is considered to be a beautiful work of art. If I was born a sculptor and I had the order, I would not have put even a stick in the hands of General Gordon, but I would have pictured him as one with folded arms, with his chest put forward, in all humility telling the world: ‘Come, all of you, who want to throw your darts, here is General Gordon to receive them without flinching, without retaliation.’ That is my ideal of a soldier. Such soldiers have lived on the earth.

  Christianity undoubtedly has given birth to such soldiers, and so has Hinduism, so has Islam. In my opinion, it is not true to say that Islam is a religion of the sword. History does not bear that out. But I am just now speaking to you of individual instances, and what is true of the individual can be true of nations or of groups of individuals; not all at once, I admit, but in the process of evolution, when men after men live this truth in their lives before our very eyes, they cannot but affect us. Such is the history of Quakers. Such is the history of Dukhobors whom Tolstoy has described. I do not know how far the latter, after having gone to Canada, are carrying out their original resolution, but the fact stands that they have lived this life of non-resistance as a community. I, therefore, feel that we are trifling with that sacred name, Brotherhood of Man, unless and until we are ruled by this fundamental fact in life.

  What I am just now combating is the position that is taken up by some of the finest writers in Europe and by some of the finest writers even in India: that man, as a class, will never be able to arrive at a stage when he can do without retaliation. I have a fundamental quarrel with that position. On the contrary, I say that man, as man, will not realize his full destiny, and his full dignity, until he has been so far educated as to be able to refrain from retaliation. Whether we like it or whether we do not like it, we are being drawn to it. It would be to our credit if, instead of being driven to the position, we will take ourselves to it, and I have come here this evening to ask you to exercise this privilege, the privilege of voluntarily taking up this idea in practice. Indeed, I ought not to have to be speaking to a Christian audience on this, because some of my friends tell me that I am really a Christian, when I talk about non-retaliation. Little do they know that I have got to strive with the Christians, as I have to with Hindus and my Muslim friends. I do not know many Christians who have adopted this thing as a rule of their life. Some of the very best Christians that I know do not admit that this is the teaching of Christ. I do believe that it is the teaching of Christ. They say it was meant merely for his twelve disciples, not meant for the world, and they quote some passages from the New Testament in support of their contention. The opponents of nonviolence as a rule of life say that it can only breed a race of cowards, and if India takes up this message of non-retaliation, she is a doomed country. On the contrary, the fundamental position that I place before you is, that unless India takes up this position, she is a doomed nation and with her all the nations of the world. India is a continent, and when India takes up the doctrine of force, as Europe today seems to have taken it up, then India becomes one of the exploiters of the weaker races of the world. Just imagine what it must mean to the world …

  The Position of Women

  A modern feminist would have ambivalent feelings about Gandhi. She might deplore his opposition to contraception and his lack of enthusiasm for women in the workforce, but perhaps admire his ability to bring women into social movements and his criticisms of the treatment of widows in Hindu society. The following excerpt succinctly states Gandhi’s views on the position of women, past, present and future.17

  A fair friend, who has hitherto successfully resisted the matrimonial temptation, writes:

  There was a women’s conference yesterday at the Malabari Hall [in Bombay], at which many sound speeches were made and many resolutions passed. The question of the evening was the Sarda Bill.18 We are so glad you uphold the age of 18 for girls. Another important resolution dealt with the laws of inheritance. What a help it would be, if you wrote a strong article on this subject in Navajivan and Young India? Why should women have either to beg or to fight in order to win back their birthright? It is strange—and also tragically comic—to he
ar man born of woman talk loftily of ‘the weaker sex’ and nobly promising ‘to give’ us our due! What is this nonsense about ‘giving’? Where is the ‘nobility’ and ‘chivalry’ in restoring to people that which has been unlawfully wrested from them by those having brute power in their hands? Wherein are women less important than men? Why should their share of inheritance be less than that of men? Why should it not be equal? We were discussing this very heatedly with some people a couple of days ago. A lady said, ‘We don’t need any change in the law. We are quite content. After all, it is but fair that the son, who carries on the name and family traditions, should have the greater share. He is the mainstay of the family.’ We said, ‘And what about the girl?’ ‘Oh,’ intervened a strapping young man who was there, ‘the other fellow will look after her!’ There you are. The ‘other fellow’! Always the other fellow! This other fellow is an absolute nuisance! Why should there be another fellow? Why should it be taken for granted that there will be another fellow? They talk as though a girl were a bale of goods to be tolerated in the parental house until ‘the other fellow’ comes round, and then coolly handed over to him with a sigh of relief. Really wouldn’t you be wild, if you were a girl?

  I do not need to be a girl to be wild over man’s atrocities towards woman. I count the law of inheritance among the least in the list. The Sarda Bill deals with an evil far greater than the one which the law of inheritance connotes. But I am uncompromising in the matter of woman’s rights. In my opinion she should labour under no legal disability not suffered by man. I should treat the daughters and sons on a footing of perfect equality. As women begin to realize their strength, as they must in proportion to the education they receive, they will naturally resent the glaring inequalities to which they are subjected.

  But to remove legal inequalities will be a mere palliative. The root of the evil lies much deeper than most people realize. It lies in man’s greed of power and fame, and deeper still in mutual lust. Man has always desired power. Ownership of property gives this power. Man hankers also after posthumous fame based on power. This cannot be had, if property is progressively cut up in pieces, as it must be if all the posterity become equal co-sharers. Hence the descent of property for the most part on the eldest male issue. Most women are married. And they are co-sharers, in spite of the law being against them, in their husbands’ power and privileges. They delight in being ladies this and what not simply for the fact of being the wives of particular lords. Though, therefore, they may vote for radical reform in academic discussions over inequalities, when it comes to acting up to their vote they will be found to be unwilling to part with the privileges.

  Whilst, therefore, I would always advocate the repeal of all legal disqualifications, I should have the enlightened women of India to deal with the root cause. Woman is the embodiment of sacrifice and suffering, and her advent to public life should, therefore, result in purifying it, in restraining unbridled ambition and accumulation of property. Let them know that millions of men have no property to transmit to posterity. Let us learn from them that it is better for the few to have no ancestral property at all. The real property that a parent can transmit to all equally is his or her character and educational facilities. Parents should seek to make their sons and daughters self-reliant, well able to earn an honest livelihood by the sweat of the brow … Much of the present imbecility of the children of the wealthy will go, if the latter can but substitute the worthy ambition of educating their children to become independent for the unworthy ambition of making them slaves of ancestral property, which kills enterprise and feeds the passions which accompany idleness and luxury. The privilege of the awakened women should be to spot and eradicate age-long evils.

  That mutual lust too has played an important part in bringing about the disqualifications of the fair sex hardly needs any demonstration. Woman has circumvented man in a variety of ways in her unconsciously subtle ways, as man has vainly and equally unconsciously struggled to thwart woman in gaining ascendancy over him. The result is a stalemate. Thus viewed, it is a serious problem the enlightened daughters of Bharat Mata are called upon to solve. They may not ape the manner of the West, which may be suited to its environment. They must apply methods suited to the Indian genius and Indian environment. Theirs must be the strong, controlling, purifying, steadying hand, conserving what is best in our culture and unhesitatingly rejecting what is base and degrading …

  The subject of this next excerpt is contained in its perhaps uncharacteristically strident title, namely, ‘Tear Down the Purdah’.19

  Whenever I have gone to Bengal, Bihar or the United Provinces, I have observed the purdah system more strictly followed than in the other provinces. But when I addressed a meeting at Darbhanga late at night and amid calm surroundings free from noise and bustle and unmanageable crowds, I found in front of me men, but behind me and behind the screen were women of whose presence I knew nothing till my attention was drawn to it. The function was in connection with the laying of the foundation-stone of an orphanage, but I was called upon to address the ladies behind the purdah. The sight of the screen behind which my audience, whose numbers I did not know, was seated made me sad. It pained and humiliated me deeply. I thought of the wrong being done by men to the women of India by clinging to a barbarous custom which, whatever use it might have had when it was first introduced, had now become totally useless and was doing incalculable harm to the country. All the education that we have been receiving for the past 100 years seems to have produced but little impression upon us, for I note that the purdah is being retained even in educated households not because the educated men believe in it themselves but because they will not manfully resist the brutal custom and sweep it away at a stroke. I have the privilege of addressing hundreds of meetings of women attended by thousands … I am quite aware of the very high culture of these thousands of sisters whom I get the privilege of addressing. I know that they are capable of rising to the same height that men are capable of, and I know too that they do have occasions to go out. But this is not to be put down to the credit of the educated classes. The question is, why have they not gone further? Why do not our women enjoy the same freedom that men do? Why should they not be able to walk out and have fresh air?

  Chastity is not a hot-house growth. It cannot be superimposed. It cannot be protected by the surrounding wall of the purdah. It must grow from within, and to be worth anything it must be capable of withstanding every unsought temptation. It must be as defiant as Sita’s. It must be a very poor thing that cannot stand the gaze of men. Men, to be men, must be able to trust their womenfolk, even as the latter are compelled to trust them. Let us not live with one limb completely or partially paralysed. Rama would be nowhere without Sita, free and independent even as he was himself. But for robust independence Draupadi is perhaps a better example. Sita was gentleness incarnate. She was a delicate flower. Draupadi was a giant oak. She bent mighty Bhima himself to her imperious will. Bhima was terrible to everyone, but he was a lamb before Draupadi. She stood in no need of protection from any one of the Pandavas. By seeking today to interfere with the free growth of the womanhood of India we are interfering with the growth of free and independent-spirited men. What we are doing to our women and what we are doing to the ‘untouchables’ recoils upon our heads with a force thousand times multiplied. It partly accounts for our own weakness, indecision, narrowness and helplessness. Let us then tear down the purdah with one mighty effort.

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  The Rooted Cosmopolitan

  Rabindranath Tagore

  The collected works of Rabindranath Tagore run into 18,000 printed pages in Bengali. The bulk consists of poems, plays, songs, short stories and novels; but there are some significant works of non-fiction as well. Although best remembered as a creative writer who transformed the Bengali language and became the first Asian to win the Nobel Prize in literature, Tagore was also a fine essayist, who had interesting and original things to say about t
he society and politics of India and the world.

  Rabindranath Tagore was born in 1861, into a family of scholars, social reformers and entrepreneurs. His grandfather was a close associate of Rammohan Roy. The family were among the earliest to join Roy’s Brahmo Samaj. Later members of the Tagore family started schools, wrote on the Upanishads and ran the large and profitable family estates in eastern India.

  As the fourteenth and youngest child of a rich, cultivated man, Rabindranath was educated at home and through his travels. He spent holidays with a brother in the civil service, whose official duties took him to parts of India very distant and in a cultural sense very different from Bengal. The boy also made regular trips to Europe. He was admitted to a school in England, but soon dropped out to resume his self-education.