An Autobiography or the Story of My Experiments with Truth

by M K Gandhi

  I

  RUMBLINGS OF THE STORM

  This was my first voyage with my wife and children.M1 I have often observed in the course of this narrative1 that, on account of child marriages amongst middle-class Hindus, the husband will be literate whilst the wife remains practically unlettered. A wide gulf thus separates them, and the husband has to become his wife’s teacher. So I had to think out the details of the dress to be adopted by my wife and children, the food they were to eat, and the manners which would be suited to their new surroundings. Some of the recollections of those days are amusing to look back upon.

  A Hindu wife regards implicit obedience to her husband as the highest religion. A Hindu husband regards himself as lord and master of his wife who must ever dance attendance upon him.M2

  I believed, at the time of which I am writing, that in order to look civilized, our dress and manners had as far as possible to approximate to the European standard. Because, I thought, only thus could we have some influence, and without influence it would not be possible to serve the community.

  I therefore determined the style of dress for my wife and children. How could I like them to be known as Kathiawad Banias? The Parsis used then to be regarded as the most civilized people amongst Indians,2 and so, when the complete European style seemed to be unsuited, we adopted the Parsi style. Accordingly my wife wore the Parsi sari, and the boys the Parsi coat and trousers. Of course no one could be without shoes and stockings. It was long before my wife and children could get used to them. The shoes cramped their feet and the stockings stank with perspiration. The toes often got sore. I always had my answers ready to3 all these objections. But I have an impression that4 it was not so much the answers as the force of authority that carried conviction. They agreed to the changes in dress as there was no alternative. In the same spirit and with even more reluctance they adopted the use of knives and forks. When my infatuation for these signs of civilization5 wore away, they gave up6 the knives and forks. After having become long accustomed to the new style, it was perhaps no less irksome for them to return to the original mode. But I can see today that we feel all the freer and lighter for having cast off the tinselM3 of ‘civilization’.

  On board the same steamer with us were some relatives and acquaintances. These and other deck passengers I frequently met, because, the boat belonging to my client friends,7 I was free to move about anywhere and everywhere I liked.

  Since the steamer was making straight for Natal, without calling at intermediate ports, our voyage was of only eighteen days. But as though to warn us of the coming real storm on land, a terrible gale overtook us, whilst we were only four days from Natal. December is a summer month of monsoon in the Southern hemisphere, and gales,8 great and small, are therefore9 quite common in the Southern sea at that season. The gale in which we were caught was so violent and prolonged that the passengers became alarmed. It was a solemn scene. All became one in face of the common danger. They forgot their differences and began to think of the one and only God—Mussalmans, Hindus, Christians10 and all. Some took various vows. The captain11 also joined the passengers in their prayers. He assured them12 that, though the storm was not without danger, he had had experience of many worse ones, and explained to them that a well-built ship could stand almost any weather.M4 But they were inconsolable. Every minute were heard sounds and crashes which foreboded breaches and leaks. The ship rocked and rolled to such an extent that it seemed as though she would capsize at any moment. It was out of the question for anyone to remain on deck. ‘His will be done’ was the only cry on every lip. So far as I can recollect, we must have been in this plight for about twenty-four hours. At last the sky cleared, the sun13 made his appearance, and the captain said that the storm had blown over. People’s faces beamed with gladness, and with the disappearance of danger disappeared also the name of God from their lips. Eating and drinking, singing and merry-making again became the order of the day. The fear of death was gone, and the momentary mood of earnest prayer gave place to maya.14 There were of course the usual namaz15 and the prayers,16 yet they had none of the solemnity of that dread hour.

  But the storm had made me one with the passengers. I had little fear of the storm,M5 for I had had experience of similar ones. I am a good sailor and do not get sea-sick. So I could fearlessly move amongst the passengers, bringing them comfort and good cheer, and conveying to them hourly reports of the captain. The friendship I thus formed stood me, as we shall see, in very good stead.

  The ship cast anchor in the port of Durban on the 18th or 19th of December. The Naderi also reached the same day.17

  But the real storm was still to come.

  II

  THE STORM

  We have seen that the two ships cast anchor in the port of Durban18 on or about the 18th of December. No passengers are allowed to land at any of the South African ports before being subjected to a thorough medical examination. If the ship has any passenger suffering from a contagious disease, she has to undergo a period of quarantine.19 As there had been plague in Bombay when we set sail, we feared that20 we might have to go through a brief quarantine. Before the examination every ship has to fly a yellow flag, which is lowered only when the doctor has certified her to be healthy. Relatives and friends of passengers are allowed to come on board only after the yellow flag has been lowered.

  Accordingly our ship was flying the yellow flag, when the doctor21 came and examined us. He ordered a five days’ quarantine because, in his opinion, plague germs took twenty-three days at the most to develop. Our ship was therefore ordered to be put in quarantine until the twenty-third day of our sailing from Bombay. But this quarantine order had more than health reasons behind it.

  The white residents of Durban had been agitating for our repatriation, and the agitation was one of the reasons for the order. Dada Abdulla and Co.22 kept us regularly informed about the daily happenings in the town.23 The whites were holding monster meetings every day. They were addressing all kinds of threats and at times offering even inducements to Dada Abdulla and Co.24 They were ready to indemnify the Company if both the ships should be sent back.25 But Dada Abdulla and Co.26 were not the people to be afraid of threats. Sheth Abdul Karim Haji Adam was then the managing partner of the firm. He was determined to moor the ships at the wharf and disembark the passengers at any cost. He was daily sending me detailed letters. Fortunately the late Sjt. Mansukhlal Naazar27 was then in Durban having gone there to meet me. He was capable and fearless and guided the Indian community. Their advocate Mr. Laughton28 was an equally fearless man. He condemned the conduct of the white residents and advised the community, not merely as their paid advocate, but also as their true friend.

  Thus Durban had become the scene of an unequal29 duel. On one side there was a handful of poor Indians and a few of their English friends, and on the other were ranged the white men, strong in arms, in numbers, in education and in wealth. They had also the backing of the State, for the Natal Government openly helped them. Mr. Harry Escombe, who was the most influential of the members of the Cabinet, openly took part in their meetings.

  The real object of the quarantine was thus to coerce the passengers into returning to India by somehow intimidating them or the Agent Company.30 For now threats began to be addressed to us also: ‘If you do not go back, you will surely be pushed into the sea. But if you consent to return, you may even get your passage money back.’31 I constantly moved amongst my fellow-passengers cheering them up. I also sent messages of comfort to the passengers of the s.s. Naderi. All of them kept calm and courageous.

  We arranged all sorts of games on the ship for the entertainment of the passengers. On Christmas Day the captain invited the saloon passengers to dinner. The principal among these were my family and I.32 In the speeches after dinnerM1 I spoke on Western civilization. I knew that this was not an occasion for a serious speech. But mine could not be otherwise. I took part in the merriment, but my heart was in the combat that was going on in Durban. For I was the real
target. There were two charges against me:

  that whilst in India I had indulged in unmerited condemnation of the Natal whites;

  that with a view to swamping Natal with Indians I had specially brought the two shiploads33 of passengers to settle there.

  I was conscious of my responsibility. I knew that Dada Abdulla and Co.34 had incurred grave risksM2 on my account, the lives of the passengers were in danger, and by bringing my family with me I had put them likewise in jeopardy.M3

  But I was absolutely innocent. I had induced no one to go to Natal. I did not know the passengers when they embarked.M4 And with the exception of a couple of relatives,35 I did not know the name and address of even one of the hundreds of passengers on board. Neither had I said, whilst in India, a word about the whites in Natal that I had not already said in Natal itself. And I had ample evidence in support of all that I had said.

  I therefore deplored the civilization of which the Natal whites were the fruit, and which they represented and championed. This civilization36 had all along been on my mind, and I therefore offered my views concerning it in my speech before that little meeting.37 The captain and other friends gave me a patient hearing, and38 received my speech in the spirit in which it was made. I do not know that it in any way affected the course of their lives, but afterwards I had long talks with the captain and other officers regarding the civilization of the West.39 I had in my speech described Western civilization as being, unlike the Eastern, predominantly based on force.M5 The questioners pinned me to my faith, and one of them—the captain so far as I recollect—said to me:

  ‘Supposing the whites carry out their threats, how will you stand by your principle of non-violence?’ To which I replied: ‘I hope God will give me the courage and the sense to forgive them and to refrain from bringing them to law. I have no anger against them.40 I am only sorry for their ignorance and their narrowness. I know that they sincerely believe that what they are41 doing today is right and proper. I have no reason therefore to be angry with them.’

  The questioner smiled, possibly distrustfully.

  Thus the days dragged on their weary length.42 When the quarantine would terminate was still uncertain. The Quarantine Officer said that the matter had passed out of his hands and that, as soon as he had orders from the Government, he would permit us to land.

  At last ultimatums were served on the passengers and me. We were asked to submit, if we would escape with our lives. In our reply the passengers and I both maintained our right to land at Port Natal, and intimated our determination to enter Natal at any risk.

  At the end of twenty three days the ships were permitted to enter the harbour, and orders permitting the passengers to land were passed.

  III

  THE TEST43

  So the ships were brought into the dock and the passengers began to go ashore. But Mr. Escombe had sent word to the captain that, as the whites were highly enraged against me and my life was in danger, my family and I44 should be advised to land at dusk, when the Port Superintendent Mr. Tatum45 would escort us home.M1 The captain communicated the message to me, and I agreed to act accordingly. But scarcely half an hour after this, Mr. Laughton came to the captain. He said: ‘I would like to take Mr. Gandhi with me,46 should he have no objection. As the legal adviser of the Agent Company I tell you that you are not bound to carry out the message you have received from Mr. Escombe.’M2 After this he came to me and said somewhat to this effect: ‘If you are not afraid,47 I suggest that Mrs. Gandhi and the children should drive to Mr. Rustomji’s house, whilst you and I follow them on foot.48 I do not at all like the idea of your entering the city like a thief in the night.M3 I do not think there is any fear of anyone hurting you. Everything is quiet now. The whites have all dispersed. But in any case I am convinced that you ought not to enter the city stealthily.’49 I readily agreed. My wife and children drove50 safely to Mr. Rustomji’s place. With the captain’s permission I went ashore with Mr. Laughton. Mr. Rustomji’s house was about two miles from the dock.

  As soon as we landed, some youngsters recognized me and shouted ‘Gandhi, Gandhi’. About half a dozen men rushed to the spot and joined in the shouting. Mr. Laughton feared that the crowd might swell and hailed51 a rickshaw.52 I had never liked the idea of being in a rickshaw. This was to be my first experience. But the youngsters would not let me get into it. They frightened the rickshaw boy out of his life, and he took to his heels. As we went ahead, the crowd continued to swell, until it became impossible to proceed further.M4 They first caught hold of Mr. Laughton and separated us. Then they pelted me with stones, brickbats and rotten eggs. Someone snatched away my turban, whilst others began to batter and kick me. I fainted and caught hold of the front railings of a house and stood there to get my breath.53 But it was impossible.54 They came upon me boxing and battering. The wife of the Police Superintendent,55 who knew me, happened to be passing by. The brave lady came up, opened her parasol though there was no sun then, and stood between the crowd and me.M5 This checked the fury of the mob, as it was difficult for them to deliver blows on me without harming Mrs. Alexander.

  Meanwhile an Indian youth who witnessed the incident had run to the police station. The Police Superintendent Mr. Alexander sent a posse of men to ring me round and escort me safely to my destination. They arrived in time. The police station lay on our way. As we reached there, the Superintendent asked me to take refuge in the station, but I gratefully56 declined the offer. ‘They are sure to quiet down when they realize their mistake,’ I said. ‘I have trust in their sense of fairness.’ Escorted by the police, I arrived without further harm at Mr. Rustomji’s place.57 I had bruises all over, but no abrasions except in one place. Dr. Dadi Barjor, the ship’s doctor, who was on the spot, rendered the best possible help.

  There was quiet inside, but outside the whites surrounded the house. Night was coming on, and the yelling crowd was shouting, ‘We must have Gandhi.’ The quick sighted Police Superintendent was already there trying to keep the crowds under control, not by threats, but by humouring them. But he was not entirely free from anxiety. He sent me a message to this effect: ‘If you would save your friend’s house and property and also your family, you should escape from the house in disguise, as I suggest.’

  Thus on one and the same day I was faced with two contradictory positions. When danger to life had been no more than imaginary, Mr. Laughton advised me to launch forth openly. I accepted the advice. When the danger was quite real, another friend gave me the58 contrary advice, and I accepted that too. Who can say whether I did so because I saw that my life was in jeopardy, or because I did not want to put my friend’s life and property or the lives of my wife and children in danger?59 Who can say for certain that I was right both when I faced the crowd in the first instance bravely, as it was said, and when I escaped from it in disguise?M6

  It is idle to adjudicate upon the right and wrong of incidents that have already happened. It is useful to understand them and, if possible, to learn a lesson from them for the future. It is difficult to say for certain how a particular man would act in a particular set of circumstances. We can also see that judging a man from his outward act is no more than a doubtful inference, inasmuch as it is not based on sufficient data.M7

  Be that as it may, the preparations for escape made me forget my injuries. As suggested by the Superintendent, I put on an Indian constable’s uniform60 and wore on my head a Madrasi scarf, wrapped round a plate to serve as a helmet. Two detectives61 accompanied me, one of them disguised as an Indian merchant and with his face painted to resemble that of an Indian. I forget the disguise of the other. We reached a neighbouring shop by a by-lane and, making our way through the gunny bags piled in the godown, escaped by the gate of the shop and threaded our way through the crowd to a carriage that had been kept for me at the end of the street. In this we drove off to the same police station where Mr. Alexander had offered me refuge a short time before,62 and I thanked him and the detective officers.63

  Whil
st I had been thus effecting my escape, Mr. Alexander had kept the crowd amused by singing the tune:

  ‘Hang old Gandhi

  On the sour apple tree.’64

  When he was informed of my safe arrival at the police station, he thus broke the news to the crowd: ‘Well, your victim has made good his escape through a neighbouring shop. You had better go home now.’65 Some of them were angry, others laughed, some refused to believe the story.

  ‘Well then,’ said the Superintendent, ‘if you do not believe me,66 you may appoint one or two representatives, whom I am ready to take inside the house. If they succeed in finding out Gandhi, I will gladly deliver him to you. But if they fail, you must disperse. I am sure that you have no intention of destroying Mr. Rustomji’s house or of harming Mr. Gandhi’s wife and children.’

  The crowd sent their representatives67 to search the house. They soon returned with disappointing news, and the crowd broke up at last, most of them admiring the Superintendent’s tactful handling of the situation, and a few fretting and fuming.

  The late Mr. Chamberlain, who was then Secretary of State for the Colonies,68 cabled asking the Natal Government to prosecute my assailants.69 Mr. Escombe sent for me, expressed his regret for the injuries I had sustained, and said: ‘Believe me, I cannot feel happy over the least little injury done to your person. You had a right to accept Mr. Laughton’s advice and to face the worst, but I am sure that, if you had considered my suggestion favourably, these sad occurrences would not have happened. If you can identify the assailants, I am prepared to arrest and prosecute them. Mr. Chamberlain also desires me to do so.’

  To which I gave the following reply:

  ‘I do not want to prosecute anyone. It is possible that I may be able to identify one or two of them, but what is the use ofM8 getting them punished? Besides, I do not hold the assailants to blame. They were given to understand that I had made exaggerated statements in India about the whites in Natal and calumniated them. If they believed these reports, it is no wonder that they were enraged. The leaders, and, if you will permit me to say so, you are to blame. You could have guided the people properly, but you also believed Reuter and assumed that I must have indulged in exaggeration. I do not want to bring anyone to book. I am sure that, when the truth becomes known, they will be sorry for their conduct.’