by M K Gandhi
Like loyalty an aptitude for nursing was also deeply rooted in my nature. I was fond of nursing people, whether friendsM9 or strangers.
Whilst busy in Rajkot with the pamphlet on South Africa, I had an occasion to pay a flying407 visit to Bombay. It was my intention to408 educate public opinion in cities on this question by organizing meetings,409 and Bombay was the first city I chose. First of all I met Justice Ranade,410 who listened to me with attention, and advised me to meet Sir Pherozeshah Mehta.411 Justice Badruddin Tyabji, whom I met next, also gave the same advice. ‘Justice Ranade and I can guide you but little,’ he said. ‘You know our position. We cannot take an active part in public affairs, but our sympathies are with you. The man who can effectively guide you is Sir Pherozeshah Mehta.’412
I certainly wanted to see Sir Pherozeshah Mehta,413 but the fact that these senior men advised me to act according to his advice gave me a better idea of the immense influence that Sir Phirozeshah had on the public. In due course I met him. I was prepared to be awed by his presence. I had heard of the popular titles that he had earned, and414 knew that I was to see the ‘Lion of Bombay’, the ‘Uncrowned King of the Presidency’.M10 But the king did not overpower me. He met me, as a loving father would meet his grown-up son. Our meeting took place at his chamber.415 He was surrounded by a circle of friends and followers. Amongst them were Mr. D.E. Wacha416 and Mr. Cama,417 to whom I was introduced. I had already heard of Mr. Wacha. He was regarded as the right-hand man of Sir Pherozeshah, and Sjt. Virchand Gandhi had described him to me as a great statistician. Mr. Wacha said, ‘Gandhi, we must meet again.’
These introductions could scarcely have taken two minutes. Sir Pherozeshah carefully listened to me. I told him that I had seen Justices Ranade and Tyabji. ‘Gandhi,’ said he, ‘I see that I must help you. I must call a public meeting here.’ With this he turned to Mr. Munshi, the secretary,418 and told him to fix up the date of the meeting. The date was settled, and he bade me good-bye, asking me to see him again on the day previous to the meeting. The interview removed my fears, and I went home delighted.
During this stay in Bombay I called on my brother-in-law,419 who was staying there and lying ill. He was not a man of means, and my sister (his wife)420 was not equal to nursing him. The illness was serious, and I offered to take him to Rajkot. He agreed, and so I returned home with my sister and her husband. The illness was much more prolongedM11 than I had expected. I put my brother-in-law in my room and remained with him night and day. I was obliged to keep awake part of the night and had to get through some of my South African work whilst I was nursing him. Ultimately, however, the patientM12 died, but it was a great consolation to me that I had had an opportunity to nurse him during his last days.
My aptitudeM13 for nursing gradually developed into a passion, so much so that it often led me to neglect my work, and on occasions I engaged not only my wife but the whole household in such service.
Such service can have no meaning unless one takes pleasure in it.M14 When it is done421 for show or for fear of public opinion, it stunts the man and crushes his spirit. Service which is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served. But all other pleasures and possessions422 pale into nothingness before service which is rendered in a spirit of joy.
XXVII
THE BOMBAY MEETING
On the very day after my brother-in-law’s death I had to go to Bombay for the public meeting.423 There had hardly been time for me to think out my speech. I was feeling exhausted after days and nights of anxious vigil, and my voice had become husky. However, I went to Bombay trusting entirely to God. I had never dreamt of writing out my speech.
In accordance with Sir Pherozeshah’s instructions I reported myself at his office at 5 p.m. on the eve of the meeting.
‘Is your speech ready, Gandhi?’ he asked.
‘No sir,’ said I, trembling with fear, ‘I think of speaking extempore.’
‘That will not do in Bombay. Reporting here is bad, and if we would benefit by this meeting, you should write out your speech, and it should be printed before daybreak tomorrow. I hope you can manage this?’
I felt rather nervous, but I said I would try.
‘Then, tell me, what time Mr. Munshi should come to you for the manuscript?’M1
‘Eleven o’clock tonight,’ said I.424
On going to the meeting the next day, I saw the wisdom of Sir Pherozeshah’s advice. The meeting was held in the hall of Sir Cowasji Jehangir Institute.425 I had heard that when Sir Pherozeshah Mehta addressed meetings the hall was always packed, chiefly by the students intent on hearing him, leaving not an inch of room.M2 This was the first meeting of the kind in my experience. I saw that my voice could reach only a few.426 I was trembling as I began to read my speech.427 Sir Pherozeshah cheered me up continually by asking me to speak louder and still louder. I have a feeling that, far from encouraging me, it made my voice sink lower and lower.
My old friend Sjt. Keshavrao Deshpande came to my rescue. I handed my speech to him. His was just the proper voice. But the audience refused to listen. The hall rang with the cries of ‘Wacha’, ‘Wacha’. So Mr. Wacha stood up and read the speech, with wonderful results.M3 The audience became perfectly quiet, and listened to the speech to the end, punctuating it with applause and cries of ‘shame’428 where necessary. This gladdened my heart.
Sir Pherozeshah liked the speech. I was supremely happy.M4
The meeting won me the active sympathy of Sjt. Deshpande and a Parsi friend, whose name I hesitate to mention, as he is a high-placed Government official today.429 Both expressed their resolve to accompany me to South Africa.430 Mr. C.M. Cursetji, who was then Small Causes Court Judge, however, moved the Parsi friend from his resolve as he had plotted his marriage.M5 He had to choose between marriage and going to South Africa, and he chose the former. But Parsi Rustomji made amends for the broken resolve, and a number of Parsi sisters are now making amends for the lady who helped in the breach by dedicating themselves to khadi work. I have therefore gladly forgiven that couple. Sjt. Deshpande had no temptations of marriage, but he too could not come. Today he is himself doing enough reparation for the broken pledge. On my way back to South Africa I met one of the Tyabjis at Zanzibar. He also promised to come and help me, but431 never came.M6 Mr. Abbas Tyabji is atoning for that offence. Thus none of my three attempts to induce barristers to go to South Africa bore any fruit.
In this connection I remember Mr. Pestonji Padshah. I had been on friendly terms with him ever since my stay in England. I first met him in a vegetarian restaurant in London. I knew of his brother Mr. Barjorji Padshah432 by his reputation as a ‘crank’. I had never met him, but friends said that he was eccentric. Out of pity for the horses, he would not ride in tram-cars, he refused to take degrees in spite of a prodigious memory, he had developed an independent spirit,433 and he was a vegetarian, though a Parsi. Pestonji had not quite this reputation, but he was famous for his erudition even in London. The common factor between us, however, was vegetarianism, and not scholarship in which it was beyond my power to approach him.
I found him out again in Bombay. He was Prothonotary434 in the High Court.435 When I met him he was engaged on his contribution to a Higher Gujarati Dictionary. There was not a friend I had not approached for help in my South African work. Pestonji Padshah, however, not only refused to aid me, but even advised me not to return to South Africa.
‘It is impossible to help you,’ he said. ‘But I tell you I do not like even your going to South Africa. Is there lack of work in our own country? Look, now, there is not a little to do for our language. I have to find out scientific words. But this is only one branch of the work. Think of the poverty of the land. Our people in South Africa are no doubt in difficulty, but I do not want a man like you to be sacrificed for that work. Let us win self-government here, and we shall automatically help our country-men there. I know I cannot prevail upon you, but I will not encourage anyone of your type to throw in his lot with you.’
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I did not like this advice, but it increased my regard for Mr. Pestonji Padshah. I was struck with his love for the country and for the mother tongue.M7 The incident brought us closer to each other. I could understand his point of view. But far from giving up my work in South Africa, I became firmer in my resolve.M8 A patriot cannot afford to ignore any branch of service to the motherland.436 And for me the text of the Gita was clear and emphatic:
Finally, this is better, that one do
His own task as he may, even though he fail,
Than take tasks not his own, though they seem good.
To die performing duty is no ill;
But who seeks other roads shall wander still.437
XXVIII
POONA AND MADRASM1
Sir Pherozeshah had made my way easy. So from Bombay I went to Poona.438 Here there were two parties. I wanted the help of people of every shade of opinion. First I met Lokamanya Tilak.439 He said:
‘You are quite right in seeking the help of all parties. There can be no difference of opinion on the South African question. But you must have a non-partyM2 man for your President. Meet Professor Bhandarkar.440 He has been taking no part of late in any public movement. But this question might possibly draw him out. See him and let me know what he says. I want to help you to the fullest extent.441 Of course you will meet me whenever you like. I am at your disposal.’
This was my first meeting with the Lokamanya. It revealed to me the secret of his unique popularity.
Next I met Gokhale.442 I found him on the Fergusson College443 grounds. He gave me an affectionate welcome, and his manner immediately won my heart.M3 With him too this was my first meeting, and yet it seemed as though we were renewing an old friendship.M4 Sir Pherozeshah had seemed to me like the Himalaya, the Lokamanya like the ocean. But Gokhale was the Ganges. One could have a refreshing bath in the holy river. The Himalaya was unscalable, and one could not easily launch forth onM5 the sea but the Ganges invited one to its bosom. It was a joy to be on it with a boat and an oar. Gokhale closely examined me, as a schoolmaster would examine a candidate seeking admission to a school. He told me whom to approach and how to approach them. He asked to have a look at my speech. He showed me over the college, assured me that he was always at my disposal, asked me to let him know the result of the interview with Dr. Bhandarkar, and sent me away exultantly happy.444 In the sphere of politics the place that Gokhale occupied in my heart during his lifetime and occupies even now was445 and is absolutely unique.
Dr. Bhandarkar received me with the warmth of a father. It was noon when I called on him. The very fact that I was busy seeing people at that hour appealed greatly to this indefatigable savant, and my insistence of a non-party man for the M6 president of the meeting had his ready approval, which was expressed in the spontaneous exclamation, ‘That’s it,’ ‘That’s it.’446
After he had heard me out he said: ‘Anyone will tell you that I do not take part in politics.447 But I cannot refuse you. Your case is so strong and your industry is so admirable that I cannot decline to take part in your meeting. You did well in consulting Tilak and Gokhale. Please tell them that I shall be glad to preside over the meeting to be held under the joint auspices of the two Sabhas.M7 You need not have the time of the meeting from me. Any time that suits them will suit me.’ With this he bade me good-bye with congratulations and blessings.
Without any ado this erudite and selfless band of workers in Poona held a meeting in an unostentatious little place, and sent me away rejoicing and more confident of my mission.
I next proceeded to Madras.448 It was wild with enthusiasm. The Balasundaram incident made a profound impression on the meeting. My speech449 was printed and was, for me, fairly long. But the audience listened to every word with attention. At the close of the meeting there was a regular run on the ‘Green Pamphlet’. I brought out450 a second and revised edition of 10,000 copies. They sold like hot cakes,M8 but I saw that it was not necessary to print such a large number. In my enthusiasm I had overcalculated the demand. It was the English-speaking public to which my speech had been addressed, and in Madras that class alone could not take the whole ten thousand.
The greatest help here came to me from the late Sjt. G. Parameshvaran Pillay,451 the editor of The Madras Standard. He had made a careful study of the question, and he often invited me to his office and gave me guidance. Sjt. G. Subramaniam452 of The Hindu453 and Dr. Subramaniam454 also were very sympathetic. But Sjt. G. Parameshvaran Pillay placed the columns of The Madras Standard entirely at my disposal, and I freely availed myself of the offer. The meeting in Pachaiappa Hall, so far as I can recollect, was with Dr. Subramaniam in the chair.
The affection showered on me by most of the friends I met and their enthusiasm for the cause were so great that, in spite of my having to communicate with them in English, I felt myself entirely at home. What barrier is there that love cannot break?
XXIX
‘RETURN SOON’
From Madras I proceeded to Calcutta455 where I found myself hemmed in by difficulties. I knew no one there. So I took a room in the Great Eastern Hotel.456 Here I became acquainted with Mr. Ellerthorpe,457 a representative of The Daily Telegraph. He invited me to the Bengal Club,458 where he was staying. He did not then realize that an Indian could not be taken to the drawing-room of the club. Having discovered the restriction, he took me to his room. He expressed his sorrow regarding this prejudice of the local Englishmen and apologized to me for not having been able to take me to the drawing-room.
I had of course to see Surendranath Banerji,459 the ‘Idol of Bengal’. When I met him, he was surrounded by a number of friends.M1 He said:
‘I am afraid people will not take interest in your work. As you know, our difficulties here are by no means few. But you must try as best you can. You will have to enlist the sympathy of Maharajas. Mind, you meet the representatives of the British Indian Association.460 You should meet Raja Sir Pyarimohan Mukarji461 and Maharaja Tagore.462 Both are liberal-minded and take a fair share in public work.’
I met these gentlemen, but without success.M2 Both gave me a cold reception and463 said it was no easy thing to call a public meeting in Calcutta, and if anything could be done, it would practically all depend on Surendranath Banerji.
I saw that my task was becoming more and more difficult. I called at the office of the Amrita Bazar Patrika.464 The gentleman whom I met there took me to be a wandering Jew.M3 The Bangabasi465 went even one better. The editor kept me waiting for an hour. He had evidently many interviewers, but he would not so much as look at me, even when he had disposed of the rest.M4 On my venturing to broach my subject after the long wait, he said: ‘Don’t you see our hands are full? There is no end to the number of visitors like you. You had better go. I am not disposed to listen to you.’ For a moment I felt offended, but I quickly understood the editor’s position. I had heard of the fame of The Bangabasi. I could see that there was a regular stream of visitors there. And they were all people acquainted with him. His paper had no lack of topics to discuss, and South Africa was hardly known at that time.
However serious a grievance may be in the eyes of the man who suffers from it, he will be but one of the numerous people invading the editor’s office, each with a grievance of his own. How is the editor to meet them all? Moreover, the aggrieved party imagines that the editor is a power in the land. Only he knows that his power can hardly travel beyond the threshold of his office. But I was not discouraged. I kept on seeing editors of other papers. As usual I met the Anglo-Indian editors also.M5 The Statesman466 and The Englishman467 realizedM6 the importance of the468 question. I gave them long interviews, and they published them in full.469
Mr. Saunders,470 editor of The Englishman, claimed me as his own. He placed his office and paper at my disposal. He even allowed me the liberty of making whatever changes I liked in the leading article he had written on the situation, the proof of which he sent me in advance.471 It is no exaggeration to say that a friendshi
p grew up between us. He promised to render me all the help he could, carried out the promise to the letter, andM7 kept on his correspondence with me until the time when he was seriously ill.
Throughout my life I have had the privilege of many such friendships, which have sprung up quite unexpectedly. What Mr. Saunders liked in me was my freedom from exaggeration and my devotion to truth. He subjected me to a searching cross-examination before he began to sympathize with my cause,472 and he saw that I had spared neither will nor pains to place before him an impartial statement of the case even of the white man in South Africa and also to appreciate it.
My experience has shown me that we win justice quickest by rendering justice to the other party.
The unexpected help of Mr. Saunders had begun to encourage me to think that I might succeed after all in holding a public meeting in Calcutta, when I received the following cable from Durban:473 ‘Parliament opens January. Return soon.’
So I addressed a letter to the Press,474 in which I explained why I had to leave Calcutta so abruptly, and set off for Bombay. Before starting I wired to the Bombay agent of Dada Abdulla & Co. to arrange for my passage by the first possible boat to South Africa. Dada Abdulla had just then purchased the steamship Courland and insisted475 on my travelling on that boat, offering to take me and my family free of charge. I gratefully accepted the offer, and in the beginning of December476 set477 sail a second time for South Africa, now with my wife and two sons478 and the only son479 of my widowed sister.M8
Another steamship Naderi also sailed for Durban at the same time.480 The agents of the Company were Dada Abdulla & Co. The total number of481 passengers these boats carried must have been about eight hundred, half of whom were bound for the Transvaal.
PART III