I then ascertained the place of residence of Sister Nivedita, and met her in a Chowringhee mansion. I was taken aback by the splen- dour- that surrounded her, and even in our conversation there was not much meeting ground. I spoke to Gokhale about this, and he said he did not wonder that there could be no point of contact between me and a volatile 1 person like her.
I met her again at Mr. Pestonji Padshah’s place. I happened to Come in just as she was talking to his old mother, and so I became an interpreter between the two. In spite of my failure to find any agreement with her, I could not but notice and admire her over- flowing love for Hinduism. I came to know of her books later.
I used to divide my day between seeing the leading people in Calcutta regarding the work in South Africa, and visiting and study- Ing the religious and public institutions of the city. I once addressed a meeting, presided over by Dr. Mullick, on the work of the Indian Ambulance Corps in the Boer War. My acquaintance with The Englishman stood me in good stead on this occasion too. Mr. Saunders was ill then, but rendered me as much help as in B Regarding the use of the word ‘volatile’, see note ‘In Justice to Her Memory’, Young India, 30th June, 1927.
174 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH 1896. Gokhale liked this speech of mine, and he was very glad to hear Dr. Ray praising it.
Thus my stay under the roof of Gokhale made my work in Cal- cutta very easy, brought me into touch with the foremost Bengali families, and was the beginning of my intimate contact with Bengal.
I must needs skip over many a reminiscence of this memorable month. Let me simply mention my flying visit to Burma, and the foongis! there. I was pained by their lethargy. I saw the golden pagoda. I did not like the innumerable little candles burning in the temple, and the rats running about the sanctum brought to my mind thoughts of Swami Dayanand’s experience at Morvi. The freedom and energy of the Burmese women charmed just as- the indolence of the men pained me. I also saw, during my brief so- journ, that just as Bombay was not India, Rangoon was not Burma, and that just as we in India have become commission agents of English merchants, even so in Burma have we combined with the English merchants, in making the Burmese people our commission agents.
On my return from Burma I took leave of Gokhale. The separation was a wrench, but my work in Bengal, or rather Calcutta, was finished, and I had no occasion to stay any longer.
Before settling down I had thought of making a tour through India travelling third class, and of acquainting myself with the hardships of third class passengers. I spoke to Gokhale about this. To begin with he ridiculed the idea, but when I explained to him what I hoped to see, he cheerfully approved. I planned to go first to Benares to pay my respects to Mrs. Beasant, who was then ill.
It was necessary to equip myself Gokhale himself gave me a metal ti sweetballs and puris. I purchas and a long coat made of Chhaya 2 c you had gone first class, but now I had to,’ said Gokhale.
í No one stopped Gokhale from going on to the platform. He was in his silk turban, jacket and dhoti. Dr. Ray was in his Bengali dress.
He was stopped by the ticket collector, but on Gokhale telling him that he was his friend, he was admitted.
Thus with their good wishes I started on my journey. 1. Monks.
2. A place in Porbandar State noted locally for its coarse woolen fabrics.
XX IN BENARES The journey was from Calcutta to Rajkot, and I planned to halt at Benares, Agra, Jaipur and Palanpur en route. I had not the time to see any more places than these. In each city I stayed one day and put up in dharmashalas or with pandas? like the ordinary pilgrims, excepting at Palanpur. So far as I can remember, I did not spend more than Rs. 31 (including the train fare) on this journey.
In travelling third class I mostly preferred the ordinary to the mail trains, as I knew that the latter were more crowded and the fares in them higher.
The third class compartments are practically as dirty, and the closet arrangements as bad, today as they were then. There may be a little improvement now, but the difference between the facili- ties provided for the first and the third classes is out of all proportion to the difference between the fares for the two classes. Third class Passengers are treated like sheep and their comforts are sheep’s com- forts. In Europe I travelled third — and only once first, just to see what it was like — but there I noticed no such difference between the first and the third classes. In South Africa third class passen- gers are mostly Negroes, yet the third class comforts are better there than here. In parts of South Africa third class compartments are provided with sleeping accommodation and cushioned seats. The accommodation is also regulated, so as to prevent overcrowding, whereas here I have found the regulation limit usually exceeded.
The indifference of the railway authorities to the comforts of the hird class passengers, combined with the dirty and inconsiderate habits of the passengers themselves, makes third class travelling a trial for a passenger of cleanly ways. These unpleasant habits com- Monly include throwing of rubbish on the floor of the compartment, smoking at all hours and in all places, betel and tobacco chewing, Converting of the whole carriage into a spittoon, shouting and yelling, and using foul language, regardless of the convenience or comfort of ellow passengers. I have noticed little difference between my expe- rience of the third class travelling in 1902 and that of my unbroken hird class tours from 1915 to 1919.
I can think of only one remedy for this awful state of things — that educated men should make a point of travelling third class and reforming the habits of the people, as also of never letting the rail- Way authorities rest in peace, sending in complaints wherever neces- sary, never resorting to bribes or any unlawful means for obtaining ose TSS AR ae 1. Priests.
176 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH their own comforts, and never putting up with infringements of rules on the part of anyone concerned. This, I am sure, would bring about considerable improvement.
My serious illness in 1918-19 has unfortunately compelled me practically to give up third class travelling, and it has been a matter of constant pain and shame to me, especially because the disability came at a time when the agitation for the removal of the hardships of third class passengers was making fair headway. The hardships of poor railway and steamship passengers, accentuated by their bad habits, the undue facilities allowed by Government to foreign trade, and such other things, make an important group of subjects, worthy to be taken up by one or two enterprising and persevering workers who could devote their full time to it.
But I shall leave the third class passengers at that, and come to my experience in Benares. I arrived there in the morning. I had deci- ded to put up with a panda. Numerous Brahmans surrounded me, as soon as I got out of the train, and I selected one who struck me to be comparatively cleaner and better than the rest. It proved to be a good choice. There was a cow in the courtyard of his house and an upper storey where I was given a lodging. I did not want to have any food without ablution in the Ganges in the proper orthodox manner. The panda made preparations for it. I had told him before- hand that on no account could I give him more than a rupee and four annas as dakshina,1 and that he should therefore keep this in mind while making the preparations.
The panda readily assented. ‘ Be the pilgrim rich or poor,’ said he, ‘ the service is the same in every case. But the amount of dakshina we receive depends upon the will and the ability of the pilgrim.’ I did not find that the panda at all abridged the usual formalities in my case. The puja? was over at twelve o’clock and I went to the Kashi Vishvanath temple for darshan. I was deeply pained by what I saw there. When practising as a barrister in Bombay in 1891, I had occasion to attend a lecture on ‘Pilgrimage to Kashi’ in the Prarthana Samaj hall. I was therefore prepared for some measure of disappointment. But the actual disappointment was greater than 1 had bargained for.
The approach was through a narrow and slippery lane. Quiet there was none. The swarming flies and the noise made by the shopkeepers and pilgrims were perfectly insufferable.
l Where one expected an atmosphere of meditation and communion, it was conspicuous by its absence. One had to seek that atmosphere im oneself. I did observe devout sisters, who were absorbed in medi- tation, entirely unconscious of the environment. But for this the authorities of the temple could scarcely claim any credit. The autho- tities should be responsible for creating and maintaining about the 1. Gift. 2. Worship.
IN BENARES 177 temple a pure, sweet and serene atmosphere, physical as well as moral. Instead of this I found a bazar where cunning shopkeepers were selling sweets and toys of the latest fashion.
When I reached the temple, I was greeted at the entrance by a stinking mass of rotten flowers. The floor was paved with fine marble, which was however broken by some devotee innocent of aesthetic taste who had set it with rupees serving as an excellent receptacle for dirt.
I went near the Jnana-vapi (Well of knowledge). I searched here for God but failed to find Him. I was not therefore in a particularly good mood. The surroundings of the Jnana-vapi too I found to be dirty. I had no mind to give any dakshina. So I offered a pie. The panda in charge got angry and threw away the pie. He swore at me and said, ‘ This insult will take you straight to hell.’
This did not perturb me. ‘Maharaj,’ said I, ‘whatever fate has in store for me, it does not behove one of your class to indulge in such language. You may take this pie if you like or you will lose that too.’
‘Go away,’ he replied, ‘I don’t care for your pie.’ And then followed a further volley of abuse.
It ie and went my way, flattering myself that the CRA DE a pie and I had saved one. But the Maharaj was hardly the man to let the pie, go. He called me back and said, ‘ All tight, leave the pie here, I would rather not be as you are. If I refuse Your pie, it will be bad for you.’
I silently gave him the pie and, with a sigh, went ee eae Si twice been to Kashi Vishvanath, but that has a ae Pega, been afflicted with the title of Mahatma and experiences such as I have detailed above had become impossi- ble. People eager to have my darshan would not permit me to have a darshan of the temple. The woes of Mahatmas are known to ahatmas alone. Otherwise the dirt and the noise were the same as before.
If anyone doubts the infin at these sacred places. How Prince of Yogis suffer to be perpetra Proclaimed long ago: A à an at rA iaaa WAEN | 1 he reap.’ The law of Karma is in- on. There is thus hardly any need the law and, as it were, retired. ited upon Mrs. Besant. I knew ite mercy of God, let him have a look much hypocrisy and irreligion does the ted in His holy name? He “Whatever a man sows, that shal €xorable and impossible of evasi for God to interfere. He laid down r this visi the temple I wa. cane i SH eere from an illness. I sent in my name. She i ts to her, I said cam ished only to pay my respec 7: S TA ae oa are in delicate health. I only wanted to pay 12 178 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH my respects. I am thankful that you have been good enough to receive me in spite of your indifferent health. I will not detain you any longer.’
So saying, I took leave of her.
XXI SETTLED IN BOMBAY?
Gokhale was very anxious that I should settle down in Bombay, practise at the bar and help him in public work. Public work in those days meant Congress work, and the chief work of the institu- tion which he had assisted to found was carrying on the Congress administration.
I liked Gokhale’s advice, as a barrister. The unpleas: with me, and I still hated briefs.
but I was not overconfident of success ant memories of past failure were yet as poison the use of flattery for getting I therefore decided to start work first at Rajkot. Kevalram Mavji Dave, my old well-wisher, who had induced me to go to England, was there, and he started me straightaway with three briefs. Two of them were appeals before the Judicial Assistant to the Political Agent in Kathiawad and one was an original case in Jamnagar. This last was rather important. On my saying that I could not trust myself to do it justice, Kevalram Dave exclaimed: ‘ Winning or losing is no concern of yours. You will simply try your best, and I am of course there to assist you.’
} of course also the advantage of my legal experience in South Africa.
I won the case an the appeals, which that after all I mig d gained some confidence. I had no fear about were successful. All this inspired a hope in me ht not fail even in Bombay.
But before I set forth the circumstances in which I decided to go to Bombay, I shall narrate my experience of the inconsiderateness and ignorance of English officials. The Judicial Assistant’s court was peripatetic. He was constantly touring, and vakils and their clients had to follow him wherever he moved his camp. The vakils SETTLED IN BOMBAY? 179 would charge more whenever they had to go out of headquarters, and so the clients had naturally to incur double the expenses. The inconvenience was no concern of the judge.
The appeal of which I am talking was to be heard at Veraval where plague was raging. I have a recollection that there were as many as fifty cases daily in the place with a population of 5,500. It Was practically deserted, and I put up in a deserted dharmashala at some distance from the town. But where were the clients to stay? If they were poor, they had simply to trust themselves to God’s mercy, A friend who also had cases before the court had wired that I Should put in an application for the camp to be moved to some Other station because of the plague at Veraval. On my submitting the application, the sahib asked me: ‘Are you afraid?’
I answered: ‘It is not a question of my being afraid. I think I can shift for myself, but what about the clients??
‘The plague has come to stay in India,’ replied the sahib. ‘ Why fear it? The climate of Veraval is lovely. [The sahib lived far away from the town in a palatial tent pitched on the seashore.] Surely People must learn to live thus in the open.’
It was no use arguing against this philosophy. The sahib told his Shirastedar: ‘Make a note of what Mr. Gandhi says, and let me Ow if it is very inconvenient for the vakils or the clients.’
The sahib of course had honestly done what he thought was the Tight thing. But how could the man have an idea of the hardships of poor India? How was he to understand the needs, habits, idiosyn- Crasies and customs of the people? How was one, accustomed to Measure things in gold sovereigns, all at once to make calculations 1n tiny bits of copper? As the elephant is powerless to think in the terms of the ant, in spite of the best intentions in the world, even So is the Englishman powerless to think in the terms of, or legislate for, the Indian.
But to resume the thread of the story. In spite of my successes, I ad been thinking of staying on in Rajkot for some time longer hen one day Kevalram Dave came to me and said: Gandhi, we Will not suffer you to vegetate here. You must settle in Bombay.
‘But who will find work for me there?’ I asked. ‘ Will you find the expenses?’
. Yes, yes, I will,’ said he. ‘We shall bring you down here some- times as a big barrister from Bombay and drafting work we shall Send you there. It lies with us vakils to make or mar a barrister.
Ou have proved your worth in Jamnagar and Veraval, and I have therefore not the least anxiety about you. You are destined to do Public work, and we will not allow you to be buried in Kathiawad.
© tell me, then, when you will go to Bombay.’
180 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH ‘I am expecting a remittance from Natal. As soon as I get it I will go,’ I replied.
The money came in about two weeks, and I went to Bombay. I took chambers in Payne, Gilbert and Sayani’s offices, and it looked as though I had settled down.
XXII FAITH ON ITS TRIAL Though I had hired chambers in the Fort and a house in Girgaum, God would not let me settle down. Scarcely had I moved into my new house when my second son Manilal, who had already been through an acute attack of smallpox some years back, had a severe attack of typhoid, combined with pneumonia and signs of delirium at night.
The doctor was called in. He said medicine would have little effect, but eggs and chicken broth might be given with profit.
Manilal was only ten years old. To consult his wishes was out of the question. Being his guardian I had to decide. The doctor was a very good Parsi. I told him that we were all vegetarians and that I could not possibly give either of the two things to my son. Would he therefore recommend something else?
“Your son’s life is in danger,’ said the good doctor. ‘We could give him milk diluted with water, but that will not give him enough nourishment. As you know, I am called in by many Hindu families, and they do not object to anything I prescribe. I think you will be well advised not to be so hard on your son.’
As a doctor you could not very great. If the boy had tried to ascertain his wishes o think and decide for him. s, that a man’s faith is truly my religious conviction that and the like. There should be a limit lungs, ete. If you will kind d of his condition, I shall be grateful to FAITH ON ITS TRIAL 181 The good doctor appreciated my difficulty and agreed to my request. Though Manilal could not have made his choice, I told him what had passed between the doctor and myself and asked him his Opinion.
‘Do try your hydropathic treatment,’ he said. ‘I will not have eggs or chicken broth.’
This made me glad, though I realized that, if I had given him either of these, he would have taken it.
I knew Kuhne’s treatment and had tried it too. I knew as well that fasting also could be tried with profit. So I began to give Manilal hip baths according to Kuhne, never keeping him in the tub for more than three minutes, and kept him on orange juice mixed With water for three days.
But the temperature persisted, going up to 104°. At night he would be delirious. I began to get anxious. What would people say of me? What would my elder brother think of me? Could we not call in another doctor? Why not have an Ayurvedic physician? What right had the parents to inflict their fads on their children?
I was haunted by thoughts like these. Then a contrary current would start. God would surely be pleased to see that I was giving the same treatment to my son as I would give myself. I had faith in hydropathy, and little faith in allopathy. The doctors could not guarantee recovery. At best they could experiment. The thread of life was in the hands of God. Why not trust it to Him and in His Name go on with what I thought was the right treatment?
My mind was torn between these conflicting thoughts. It was night. I was in Manilal’s bed lying by his side. I decided to give him a wet sheet pack. I got up, wetted a sheet, wrung the water out of it and wrapped it about Manilal, keeping only his head out and then Covered him with two blankets. To the head I applied a wet towel. The whole body was burning like hot iron, and quite parched. There Was absolutely no perspiration.
Iw r ired. I left Manilal in the charge of his mother, and keit ine fies Chaupati to refresh myself. It was about ten o'clock. Very few pedestrians were out. Plunged in deep thought, Scarcely looked at them. “My honour is in Thy keeping oh Lord, in ted to myself. Ramanama was on my lips.
his hi ial,’ I repea: ‘aN fter aed Mas I returned, my heart beating within my breast.
No sooner had I entered the room than Manilal said, ‘You have ‘Do please pull me out. I am burning.’
182 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH ‘Are you perspiring, my boy?’ ‘I am simply soaked. Do please take me out.’
I felt his forehead. It was covered with beads of perspiration. The temperature was going down. I thanked God.
‘Manilal, your fever is sure to go now. A little more perspiration and then I will take you out.’
‘Pray, no. Do deliver me from this furnace. Wrap me some other time if you like’ I just managed to keep him under the pack for a few minutes more by diverting him. The perspiration streamed down his forehead. I undid the pack and dried his body. Father and son fell asleep in the same bed.
And each slept like a log. Next morning Manilal had much less fever. He went on thus for forty days on diluted milk and fruit juices. I had no fear now. It was an obstinate type of fever, but it had been got under control.
Today Manilal is the healthiest of my boys. Who can say whether his recovery was due to God’s grace, or to hydropathy, or to careful dietary and nursing? Let everyone decide according to his own faith. For my part I was sure that God had saved my honour, and that belief remains unaltered to this day.
XXIII TO SOUTH AFRICA AGAIN Manilal was restored to health, but I saw that the Girgaum house was not habitable. It was damp and ill-lighted. So in consultation with Shri Revashankar Jagjivan I decided to hire some well-venti- lated bungalow in a suburb of Bombay. I wandered about in Bandra and Santa Cruz. The slaughter house in Bandra prevented our choice falling there. Ghatkopar and places near it were too far from the sea. At last we hit upon a fine bungalow in Santa Cruz, which we hired as being the best from the point of view of sanitation.
I took a first class season ticket from Santa Cruz to Churchgate, and remember having frequently felt a certain pride in being the only first class passenger in my compartment. Often I walked to Bandra in order to take the fast train from there direct to Churchgate.
I prospered in my profession better than I had expected. My South African clients often entrusted me with some work, and it was enough to enable me to pay my way.
TO SOUTH AFRICA AGAIN 183 I had not yet succeeded in securing any work in the High Court but I attended the ‘moot’ that used to be held in those days, though I never ventured to take part in it. I recall Jamiatram Nanabhai taking a prominent part. Like other fresh barristers I made a point of attending the hearing of cases in the High Court, moré, I am afraid, for enjoying the soporific breeze coming straight from the sea than for adding to my knowledge. I observed that I was not the only one to enjoy this pleasure. Tt seemed to be the fashion and therefore nothing to be ashamed of.
However I began to make use of the High Court library and make fresh acquaintances and felt that before long I should secure work in the High Court.
Thus whilst on the one hand I began to feel somewhat at ease about my profession, on the other hand Gokhale, whose eyes were always on me, had been busy making his own plans on my behalf. He peeped in at my chambers twice or thrice every week, often in company with friends whom he wanted me to know, and he kept me acquainted with his mode of work.
But it may be said that God has never allowed any of my own plans to stand. He has disposed them in His own way.
seemed to be settling down as I had intended, I received an unexpected cable from South Africa: ‘Chamberlain expected here. Please return immediately.’ I remembered my pro- mise and cabled to say that I should be ready to start the moment they put me in funds. They promptly responded, I gave up the chambers and started for South Africa.
I had an idea that the work there would keep me engaged for at least a year, so I kept the bungalow and left my wife and children there. I believed then that enterprising youths who could not find an opening in the country should emigrate to other lands. I therefore took with me four or five such youths, one of whom was Maganlal Gandhi. The Gandhis were and are a big family. I wanted to find out all those who wished to leave the trodden path and venture abroad. My of them in some State father used to accommodate a number 0 i service, I wanted them to be free from this spell. I neither could nor would secure other service for them; I wanted them to be self- reliant.
But as my ideals advanced, I tried to persuade these youths also to conform their ideals to mine, and I had the greatest success in guiding Maganlal Gandhi. But about this later.
n from wife and children, the breaking up of a set- from the certain to the uncertain Just when I The separatio: L tled establishment, and the going 184 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH — all this was for a moment painful, but I had inured myself to an uncertain life. I think it is wrong to expect certainties in this world, where all else but God that is Truth is an uncertainty. All that appears and happens about and around us is uncertain, transient. But there is a Supreme Being hidden therein as a Certainty, and one would be blessed if one could catch a glimpse of that Certainty and hitch one’s waggon to it. The quest for that Truth is the summum bonum of life.
I reached Durban not a day too soon. There was work waiting for me. The date for the deputation to wait on Mr. Chamberlain had b een fixed. I had to draft the memorial to be submitted to him and accompany the deputation.
THE STORY OF MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH PART IV Mr. Chamberlain had come to get a gift of 35 million pounds from South Africa, and to win the hearts of Englishmen and Boers. So he gave a cold shoulder to the Indian deputation.
“You know,’ he said, ‘that the Imperial Government has little control over self-governing Colonies. Your grievances seem to be genuine, I shall do what I can, but you must try your best to placate the Europeans, if you wish to live in their midst.’
The reply cast a chill over the members of the deputation. I was also disappointed. It was an eye-opener for us all, and I saw that we should start with our work de novo. I explained the situation to my colleagues.
As a matter of fact there was nothing wrong about Mr. Chamber- lain’s reply. It was well that he did not mince matters. He had brought home to us in a rather gentle way the rule of might being right or the law of the sword.
But sword we had none. We scarcely had the nerve and the muscle even to receive sword-cuts.
Mr. Chamberlain had given only a short time to the sub-continent. If Shrinagar to Cape Comorin is 1,900 miles, Durban to Capetown is not less than 1,100 miles, and Mr. Chamberlain had to cover the long distance at hurricane speed.
From Natal he hastened to the Transvaal. I had to prepare the case for the Indians there as well and submit it to him. But how was I to get to Pretoria? Our people there were not in a position to procure the necessary legal facilities for my getting to them in time. The War had reduced the Transvaal to a howling wilderness. There were neither provisions nor clothing available. Empty or closed shops were there, waiting to be replenished or opened, but that was a matter of time. Even refugees could not be allowed to return until the shops were ready with provisions. Every Trans- vaaller had therefore to obtain a permit. The European had no difficulty in getting one, but the Indian found it very hard.
During the War many officers and soldiers had come to South Africa from India and Ceylon, and it was considered to be the duty of the British authorities to provide for such of them as decided to settle there. They had in any event to appoint new officers, and these experienced men came in quite handy. The quick ingenuity Of some of them created a new department. It showed their resource- fulness. There was a special department for the Negroes. Why then Should there not be one for the Asiatics? The argument seemed 188 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH to be quite plausible. When I reached the Transvaal, this new department had already been opened and was gradually spreading its tentacles. The officers who issued permits to the returning refu- gees might issue them to all, but how could they do so in respect of the Asiatics without the intervention of the new department? And if the permits were to be issued on the recommendation of the new department, some of the responsibility and burden of the permit officers could thus be lessened. This was how they had argued. The fact, however, was that the new department wanted some apology for work, and the men wanted money. If there had been no work, the department would have been found unnecessary and would have been discontinued. So they found this work for them- selves.
The Indians had to apply to this department. A reply would be vouchsafed many days after. And as there were large numbers wishing to return to the Transvaal, there grew up an army of inter- mediaries or touts, who with the Officers, looted the poor Indians to the tune of thousands. I was told that no permit could be had without influence, and that in Some cases one had to pay up to hundred pounds in spite of the influence which one might bring to bear. Thus there seemed to be no way open to me. I went to my old friend, the Police Superintendent of Durban, and said to him: ‘Please introduce me to the Permit Officer and help me to obtain a permit. You know that I have been a resident of the Transvaal.’ He immediately put on his hat, came out and secured me a permit. There was hardly an hour left before my train was to start. I had kept my luggage ready. I thanked Superintendent Alexander and started for Pretoria.
I now had a fair idea of I drafted the memorial. having been asked to sub: But another chapter is necessary for this painful though amusing incident.
I AUTOCRATS FROM ASIA The officers at the head of the new department were at a loss to know how I had entered the Transvaal. They inquired of the Indians who used to go to them, but these could say nothing definite. The officers only ventured a guess that I might have succeeded in entering without a permit on the strength of my old connections. If that was the case, I was liable to be arrested!
It is a general practice, on the termination of a big war, to invest the Government of the day with special powers. This was the case in South Africa. The Government had passed a Peace Preservation Ordinance, which provided that anyone entering the Transvaal with- out a permit should be liable to arrest and imprisonment. The ques- tion of arresting me under this provision was mooted, but no one could summon up courage enough to ask me to produce my permit.
The officers had of course sent telegrams to Durban, and when they found that I had entered with a permit, they were disappointed. But they were not the men to be defeated by such disappointment. Though I had succeeded in entering the Transvaal, they could still Successfully prevent me from waiting on Mr. Chamberlain.
So the community was asked to submit the names of the repre- Sentatives who were to form the Deputation. Colour prejudice was of course in evidence everywhere in South Africa, but I was not Prepared to find here the dirty and underhand dealing among offi- cials that I was familiar with in India. In South Africa the public departments were maintained for the good of the people and were responsible to public opinion. Hence officials in charge had a certain courtesy of manner and humility about them, and coloured people also got the benefit of it more or less. With the coming of the officers from Asia, came also its autocracy, and the habits that the autocrats had imbibed there. In South Africa there was a kind of responsible Bovernment or democracy, whereas the commodity imported from Asia was autocracy pure and simple; for the Asiatics had no res- Ponsible government, there being a foreign power governing them. In South Africa the Europeans were settled emigrants. They had ecome South African citizens and had control over the depart- Mental officers. But the autocrats from Asia now appeared on the Scene, and the Indians in consequence found themselves between he devil and the deep sea.
I had a fair taste of this autocracy. I was first summoned to Ceylon. Lest I See t i f the department, an officer from y Sia. a exaggerate when I say that I was ‘summoned’ to see Ge hief, I shall make myself clear. No written order was Sent to ae Indian leaders often had to visit the Asiatic officers.
190 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH Among these was the late Sheth Tyeb Haji Khan Muhammad. The chief of the office asked him who I was and why I had come there.
‘He is our adviser,’ said Tyeb Sheth, ‘and he has come here at our request.’
‘Then what are we here for? Have we not been appointed to protect you? What can Gandhi know of the conditions here? asked the autocrat.
Tyeb Sheth answered the charge as best he could: ‘Of course you are there. But Gandhi is our man. He knows our language and understands us. You are after all officials.
The Sahib ordered Tyeb Sheth to fetch me before him. I went to the Sahib in company with Tyeb Sheth and others. No seats were offered, we were all kept standing.
‘What brings you here?’ said the Sahib addressing me.
‘I have come here at the request of my fellow countrymen to help them with my advice,’ I replied.
‘ But don’t you know that you have no right to come here? The permit you hold was given you by mistake. You cannot be re- garded as a domiciled Indian. You must go back. You shall not wait on Mr. Chamberlain. It is for the protection of the Indians here that the Asiatic Department has been especially created. Well, you may go.’ With this he bade me good-bye, giving me no oppor- tunity for a reply.
But he detained my companions. and advised them to send me away.
They returned chagrined. We wer expected situation.
He gave them a sound scolding € now confronted with an un- LBA POCKETED THE INSULT I smarted under the insult, but as I had pocketed many such in the past, I had become inured to them. I therefore decided to forget this latest one and take what course a dispassionate view of the case might suggest.
We had a letter from the Chief of the Asiatic Department to the effect that, as I had seen Mr. Chamberlain in Durban, it had been found necessary to omit my name from the deputation which was to wait on him.
The letter was more than my co-workers could bear. They pro- Posed to drop the idea of the deputation altogether. I pointed out to them the awkward situation of the community.