by M K Gandhi
My studies were continued. I was not regarded as a dunce at the high school. I always enjoyed the affection of my teachers. Certificates of progress and character used to be sent to the parents every year. I never had a bad certificate.M1 In fact I even won prizes after I passed out of the second standard. In the fifth and sixth I obtained scholarships of rupees four and ten respectively, an achievement for which I have to thank good luck more than my merit. For the scholarships were not open to all, but reserved for the best boys amongst those coming from the Sorath Division of Kathiawad.80 And in those days there could not have been many boys from Sorath in a class of forty to fifty.
My own recollection is that I had not any high regard for my ability. I used to be astonished whenever I won prizes and scholarships. But I very jealously guarded my character. The least littleM2 blemish drew tears from my eyes. When I merited, or seemed to the teacher to merit, a rebuke, it was unbearable for me. I remember having once received corporal punishment. I did not so much mind the punishment, as the fact that it was considered my desert.M3 I wept piteously. That was when I was in the first or second standard. There was another such incident during the time when I was in the seventh standard. Dorabji Edulji Gimi was the head master then.81 He was popular among boys, as he was a disciplinarian, a man of method and a good teacher. He had made gymnastics and cricket compulsory for boys of the upper standards. I disliked both. I never took part in any exercise, cricket or football, before they were made compulsory. My shyness was one of the reasons for this aloofness, which I now see was wrong.M4 I then had the false notion that gymnastics had nothing to do with education. Today I know that physical training should have as much place in the curriculum as mental training.
I may mention, however, that I was none the worse for abstaining from exercise. That was because I had read in books about the benefits of long walks in the open air, and having liked the advice, I had82 formed a habit of taking walks, which has still remained with me. These walks gave me a fairly hardy constitution.
TheM5 reason of my dislike for gymnastics was my keen desire to serve as nurse to83 my father. As soon as the school closed, I would hurry home and begin serving him. Compulsory exercise came directly in the way of this service. I requested Mr. Gimi to exempt me from gymnastics so that I might be free to serve my father.M6 But heM7 would not listen to me. Now it so happened that one Saturday, when we had school in the morning, I had to go from home to the school for gymnastics at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. I had no watch, and the clouds deceived me. Before I reached the school the boys had all left. The next day Mr. Gimi, examining the roll, found me marked absent. Being asked the reason for absence, I told him what had happened. He refused to believe me and ordered me to pay a fine of one or two annas (I cannot now recall how much).
I was convicted of lying! That deeply pained me. How was I to prove my innocence? There was no way.84 I cried in deep anguish. I saw that a man of truth must also be a man of care. This was the first and last instance of my carelessness in school. I have a faint recollection that I finally succeeded in getting the fine remitted. The exemption from exercise was of course obtained, as my father wrote himself to the head master saying that he wanted me at home after school.85
But though I was none the worse for having neglected exercise,86 M8 I am still paying the penalty of another neglect. I do not know whence I got the87 notion that good handwriting was not a necessary part of education, but I retained it until I went to England. When later, especially in South Africa, I saw the beautifulM9 handwriting of lawyers and young men born and educated in South Africa, I was ashamed of myself and repented of my neglect. I saw that bad handwriting should be regarded as a sign of an imperfect education. I tried later to improve mine, but it was too late.M10 I could never repair the neglect of my youth. Let every young man and woman be warned by my example, and understand that good handwriting is a necessary part of education.88 I am now of opinion that children should first be taught the art of drawing before learning how to write.89 Let the child learn his letters by observation as he does different objects, such as flowers, birds, etc., and let him learn handwriting only after he has learnt to draw objects. He will then write a beautifully formed hand.M11
Two more reminiscences of my school days90 are worth recording. I had lost one year because of my marriage, and the teacher wanted me to make good the loss by skipping a class—a privilege usually allowed to industrious boys. I therefore had only six months in the third standard and was promoted to the fourth after the examinations which are followed by the summer vacation. English became the medium of instruction in mostM12 subjects from the fourth standard. I found myself completely at sea. Geometry was a new subject in which I was not particularly strong, and the English medium made it still more difficult for me. The teacher taught the subject very well, but I could not follow him. Often I would lose heart and think of going back to the third standard, feeling that the packing of two years’ studies into a single year was too ambitious.M13 But this would discredit not only me,91 but also the teacher; because, counting on my industry, he had recommended my promotion. So the fear of the double92 discredit kept me at my post. When, however, with much effort I reached the thirteenth proposition of Euclid, the utter simplicity of the subject was suddenly revealed to me. A subject which only required a pure and simple use of one’s reasoning powers could not be difficult. Ever since that time geometry has been both easy and interesting for me.
Samskrit, however, proved a harder task.93 In geometry there was nothing to memorize, whereas in Samskrit, I thought, everything had to be learnt by heart. This subject also was commenced from the fourth standard. As soon as I entered the sixth I became disheartened. The teacher was a hard taskmaster, anxious, as I thought, to force the boys. There was a sort of rivalry going on between the Samskrit and the Persian teachers. The Persian teacher was lenient. The boys used to talk among themselves that Persian was very easy and the Persian teacher very good and considerate to the students.M14 The ‘easiness’ tempted me and one day I sat in the Persian class. The Samskrit teacher was grieved. He called me to his side and said: ‘How can you forget that you are the son of a Vaishnava father?M15 Won’t you learn the language of your own religion? If you have any difficulty, why not come to me? I want to teach you students Samskrit to the best of my ability. As you proceed further, you will find in it things of absorbing interest. You should not lose heart. Come and sit again in the Samskrit class.’
This kindness put me to shame.M16 I could not disregard my teacher’s affection. Today I cannot but think with gratitude of Krishnashankar Pandya.94 For if I had not acquired the little Samskrit that I learnt then, I should have found it difficult to take any interest in our sacred books.M17 In fact I deeply regret that I was not able to acquire a more thorough knowledge of the language, because I have since realized that every Hindu boy and girlM18 should possess sound Samskrit learning.
It is now my opinion that in all Indian curricula of higher education there should be a place for95 Hindi, Samskrit, Persian, Arabic and English, besides of course the vernacular. This big list96 need not frighten anyone. If our97 education were more systematic, and the boys free from the burden of having to learn their subjects through a foreign medium, I am sure learning all these languages would not be an irksome task, but a perfect pleasure. A scientific knowledge of one language makes a knowledge of other languages comparatively easy.
In reality, Hindi, Gujarati and Samskrit may be regarded as one language, and Persian and Arabic also as one. Though Persian belongs to the Aryan, and Arabic to the Semitic family of languages, there is a close relationship between Persian and Arabic, because both claim their full growth through the rise of Islam. Urdu I have not regarded as a distinct language, because it has adopted the Hindi grammar and its vocabulary is mainly Persian and Arabic, and he who would learn good Urdu must learn Persian and Arabic, as one who would learn good Gujarati, Hindi, Bengali or Marathi must learn Samskrit.
VI
>
A TRAGEDY98
Amongst my few friends at the high schoolM1 I had, at different times, two who might be called intimate. One of these friendships did not last long, though I never forsook my friend. He forsook me, because I made friends with the other. This latter friendship I regard as a tragedy in my life.99 It lasted long. I formed it in the spirit of a reformer.
This companion was originally my elder brother’s friend. They were classmates.100 I knew his weaknesses, but I regarded him as a faithful friend. My mother, my eldest brother, and my wife warned me that I was in bad company. I was too proud101 to heed my wife’s warning. But I dared not go against the opinion of my mother and my eldest brother.M2 Nevertheless I pleaded with them saying, ‘I know he has the weaknesses you attribute to him, but you do not know his virtues. He cannot lead me astray, as my association with him is meant to reform him. For I am sure that if he reforms his ways, he will be a splendid man. I beg you not to be anxious on my account.’
I do not think this satisfied them, but they accepted my explanation and let me go my way.
I have seen since that I had calculated wrongly.102 A reformer cannot afford to have close intimacy with him whom he seeks to reform. True friendship is an identity of souls rarely to be found in this world. Only between like natures can friendship be altogether worthy and enduring. Friends react on one another. Hence in friendship there is very little scope for reform. I am of opinion that all exclusive intimaciesM3 are to be avoided; for man takes in vice far more readily than virtue.103 And he who would be friends104 with God must remain alone, or make the whole world his friend. I may be wrong, but my effort to cultivate an intimate friendship proved a failure.
A wave of ‘reform’ was sweeping over Rajkot at the time when I first came across this friend. He informed me that many of our105 teachers were secretly taking meat and wine. He also named many well-known people of Rajkot as belonging to the same company. There were also, I was told, some high-school boys among them.
I was surprised and pained. I asked my friend the reason and he explained it thus: ‘We are a weak people because we do not eat meat. The English are able to rule over us, because they are meat-eaters. You know how hardy I am, and how great a runner106 too. It is because I am a meat-eater. Meat-eaters do not have boils or tumours,107 and even if they sometimes happen to have any, these108 heal quickly. Our teachers and other distinguished people who eat meat are no fools.M4 They know its virtues.109 You should do likewise. There is nothing like trying. Try, and see what strength it gives.’
All these pleas on behalf of meat-eating110 were not advanced at a single sitting. They represent the substance of a long and elaborate argument which my friend was trying to impress upon me from time to time.M5 My elder brother had already fallen.M6 He therefore supported my friend’s argument. I certainly looked feeble-bodied by the side of my brother and this friend. They were both hardier, physically stronger, and more daring. This friend’s exploits cast a spell over me. He could run long distances and extraordinarily fast. He was an adept in high and long jumping. He could put up with any amount of corporal punishment. He would often display his exploits to me and, as one is always dazzled when he sees in others the qualities that he lacks himself, I was111 dazzled by this friend’s exploits. This was followed by a strong desire to be like him. I could hardly jump or run. Why should not I also be as strong as he?
Moreover,112 I was a coward. I used to be haunted by the fear of thieves, ghosts and serpents.113 I did not dare to stir out of doors at night. Darkness was a terror to me.M7 It was almost impossible for me to sleep in the dark, as I would imagine ghosts coming from one direction, thieves from another and serpents from a third. I could not therefore bear to sleep without a light in the room. How could I disclose my fears to my wife, no child, but already at the threshold of youth, sleeping by my side?114 I knew that she had more courage than I, and I felt ashamed of myself. She knew no fear of serpents and ghosts. She could go out anywhere in the dark. My friend knew all these weaknesses of mine. He would tell me that he could hold in his hand live serpents, could defy thieves and did not believe in ghosts. And all this was, of course, the result of eating meat.
A doggerel of the Gujarati poet Narmad115 was in vogue amongst us schoolboys, as follows:
Behold the mighty Englishman
He rules the Indian small,
Because being a meat-eater
He is five cubits tall.116
All this had its due effect on me. I was beaten.M8 It began to grow on me that meat-eating was good, that it would make me strong and daring, and that, if the whole country took to meat-eating, the English could be overcome.
A day was thereupon fixed for beginning the experiment. It had to be conducted in secret.M9 The Gandhis were Vaishnavas. My parents were particularly staunch Vaishnavas. They would regularly visit the Haveli. The family had even its own temples. Jainism was strong in Gujarat, and its influence was felt everywhere and on all occasions. The opposition to and abhorrence of meat-eating that existed in Gujarat among the Jains and Vaishnavas were117 to be seen nowhere else in India or outside in such strength. These were the traditions in which I was born and bred. And I was extremely devoted to my parents. I knew that the moment they came to know of my having eaten meat, they would be shocked to death. Moreover, my love of truth made me extra cautious.M10 I cannot say that I did not know then that I should have to deceive my parents if I began eating meat.118 But my mind was bent on the ‘reform’. It was not a question of pleasing the palate. I did not know that it had a particularly good relish. I wished to be strong and daring and wanted my countrymen also to be such, so that we might defeat the English and make India free. The word ‘swaraj’ I had not yet heard. But I knew what freedom meant. The frenzy of the ‘reform’ blinded me. And having ensured secrecy, I persuaded myself that mere hiding the deed from parents was no departure from truth.119
VII
A TRAGEDY (CONTD.)120
So the day came. It is difficult fully to describe my condition. There were, on the one hand, the zeal for ‘reform’ and the novelty of making a momentous departure in life. There was, on the other, the shame of hiding like a thief to do this very thing. I cannot say which of the two swayed me more. We went in search of a lonely spot by the river, and there I saw, for the first time in my life—meat. There was baker’s bread also. I relished neither. The goat’s meat was as tough as leather. I simply could not eat it. I was sick and had to leave off eating.
I had a very bad night afterwards.121 A horrible nightmare haunted me. Every time I dropped off to sleep,122 it would seem as though a live goat were bleating inside me, and I would jump up full of remorse. But then I would remind myself that meat-eating was a duty and so become more cheerful.M1
My friend was not a man to give in easily. He now began to cook various delicacies with meat, and dress them neatly. And for dining, no longer was the secluded spot on the river123 chosen, but a State house, with its124 dining-hall, and tables and chairs, about which my friend had made arrangements in collusion with the chief cook there.
This bait125 had its effect. I got over my dislike for bread, forswore my compassion for the goats, and became a relisher of meat-dishes, if not of meat itself. This went on for about a year. But not more than half a dozen meat-feasts were enjoyed in all; because the State house was not available every day, and there was the obvious difficulty about frequently preparing expensive126 savouryM2 meat-dishes. I had no money to pay for this ‘reform’.M3 My friend had therefore always to find the wherewithal. I had no knowledge where he found it.M4 But find it he did, because he was bent on turning me into a meat-eater.127 But even his means must have been limited, and hence these feasts had necessarily to be few and far between.
Whenever I had occasion to indulge in these surreptitious128 feasts, dinner at home was out of the question. My mother would naturally ask me to come and take my food and want to know the reason why I did not wish to eat. I would sayM5 to her, ‘I have no ap
petite today; there is something wrong with my digestion.’ It was not without compunction that I devised these pretexts.M6 I knew I was lying, and lying to my mother. I also knew that, if my mother and father came to know of myM7 having become a meat-eater, they would be deeply shocked.M8 This knowledge was gnawing at my heart.
Therefore I said to myself: ‘Though it is essential to eat meat, and also essential to take up food reform in the country yet deceiving and lying to one’s father and mother is worse than not129 eating meat. In their lifetime, therefore, meat-eating must be out of the question. When they are no more and130 I have found my freedom, I will eat meat openly, but until that moment arrives I will abstain from it.’
This decision I communicated to my friend, and I have never since gone back to meat. My parents never knew that two of their sons had become meat-eaters.
I abjured meat out of the purity of my desire not to lie to my parents, but I did not abjure the company of my friend. My zeal for reforming him had proved disastrous forM9 me, and all the time I was completely unconscious of the fact.M10
The same company would have led me into faithlessness to my wife.M11 But I was saved by the skin of my teeth.131 My friend once took me to a brothel. He sent me in with the necessary instructions. It was all pre-arranged. The bill had already been paid.132 I went into the jaws of sin, but God in His infinite mercy protected me against myself.M12 I was almost struck blind and dumb133 in this den of vice. I sat near the woman on her bed, but I was tongue-tied.M13 She naturally lost patience with me, and showed me the door, with abuses and insults. I then felt as though my manhood had been injured, and wished to sink into the ground for shame. But I have ever since given thanks to God for having saved me. I can recall four more similar incidents in my life, and in most of them my good fortune,M14 rather than any effort on my part, saved me.134 From a strictly ethical point of view, all these occasions must be regarded as moral lapses; for the carnal desire was there, and it was as good as the act. But from the ordinary point of view, a man who is saved from physically committing sin is regarded as saved. And I was saved only in that sense.135 There are some actions from which an escape is a godsend both for the man who escapes and for those about him. Man, as soon as he gets back his consciousness of right, is thankful to the Divine mercy for the escape. As we know that a man often succumbs to temptation, however much he may resist it, we also know that Providence often intercedes and saves himM15 in spite of himself. How all this happens—how far a man is free and how far a creature of circumstances—how far free will comes into play and where fate enters on the scene—all this is a mystery and will remain a mystery.M16