XLIII HOMEWARD Mr. Kallenbach had accompanied me to England with a view to going to India. We were staying together and of course wanted to sail by the same boat. Germans, however, were under such strict surveillance that we had our doubts about Mr. Kallenbach getting a passport. I did my best to get it, and Mr. Roberts, who was in favour of his getting his passport, sent a cable to the Viceroy in this behalf. But straight came Lord Hardinge’s reply: ‘Regret Govern- ment of India not prepared to take any such risk.’ All of us understood the force of the reply. to part from Mr. Kallenbach, but It was a great wrench for me I could see that his pang was greater. Could he have come to India, he would have been leading today the simple happy life of a farmer and weaver. Now he is in South Africa, leading his old life and doing brisk business as an architect. We wanted a third class passage, bu on P. and O. boats, we had to g0 second. m South Africa, We took with us the dried fruit we had carried fro as most of it would not be procurable on the boat, where fresh fruit was easily available. Dr. Jivraj Mehta had bandaged my ribs with ‘Mede’s Plaster” and had asked me not to remove it till we reached the Red Sea. For two days I put up with the discomfort, put finally it became too much for me. It was with considerable difficulty that I managed to undo the plaster and regain the liberty of having a proper bath. My diet consisted mostly of nuts and fruits. I found that I was im- proving every day and felt very much better by the time we entered the Suez Canal. I was weak, but felt entirely out of danger, and I gradually went on increasing MY exercise. The improvement I attri- puted largely to the pure air of the temperate zone.
Whether it was due t nce or to any other reason, I do not know, put the kind of distance I noticed between the English and Indian passengers on the boat was something I had not observed even on my voyage from ica. I did talk to a few Englishformal. There were hardly any cordial ut the talk was mostly ems p s such as had certainly taken place on the South African con a E for this was, I think, to be found in the conscious or unconscious feeling at the pack of the Englishman’s mind that he belonged to the ruling race, and the feeling at the back of the o the subject race.
Indian’s mind that he belonged t ach home and get free from this atmosphere.
I was eager to re t as there was none available 266 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH On arriving at Aden we already began to feel somewhat at home. We knew the Adenwallas very well, having met Mr. Kekobad Kavasji Dinshaw in Durban and come in close contact with him and his wife.
A few days more and we reached Bombay. It was such a joy to get back to the homeland after an exile of ten years.
Gokhale had inspired a reception for me in Bombay, where he had come in spite of his delicate health. I had approached India in the ardent hope of merging myself in him, and thereby feeling free. But fate had willed it otherwise.
XLIV SOME REMINISCENCES OF THE BAR Before coming to a narrative of it seems necessary to recall a few which I have deliberately left out.
Some lawyer friends have asked me to e bar. The number of t the course my life took in India, of the South African experiences out of my scope. But it may not perhaps be improper to recall some of those which bear upon the practice of truth.
So far as I can recollect, I have alread: to untruth in my profession, and that a tice was in the interest of public work, beyond out-of-pocket ex: SOME REMINISCENCES OF THE BAR 267 I warned every new client at the outset that he should not expect me to take up a false case or to coach the witnesses, with the result that T bent up such a reputation that no false cases used to come to me. eed some of my clients would keep their clean cases fi and take the doubtful ones elsewhere. E There was one case which proved a severe trial. It was brought to me by one of my best clients. It was a case of highly complicated accounts and had been a prolonged one. It had been heard in parts before several courts. Ultimately the book-keeping portion of it was entrusted by the court to the arbitration of some qualified accoun- tants. The award was entirely in favour of my client, but the arbitra- tors had inadvertently committed an error in calculation which, however small, was serious, inasmuch as an entry which ought to have been on the debit side was made on the credit side. The oppo- nents had opposed the award on other grounds. I was junior counsel for my client. When the senior counsel became aware of the error, he was of opinion that our client was not bound to admit it. He was clearly of opinion that no counsel was bound to admit anything that went against his client’s interest. I said we ought to admit the error.
But the senior counsel contended: ‘In that case there is every likelihood of the court cancelling the whole award, and no sane counsel would imperil his client’s case to that extent. At any rate I would be the last man to take any such risk. If the case were to be sent up for a fresh hearing, one could never tell what expenses our client might have to incur, and what the ultimate result might be!’ The client was present when this conversation took place. Isaid: ‘I feel that both our client and we ought to run the risk. Where is the certainty of the court upholding a wrong award simply because we do not admit the error? And supposing the admission were to bring the client to grief, what harm is there?’ ‘But why should we make the admission at all?? said the senior counsel. ‘Where is the surety opponent not discovering Thy eee?
‘Well then, will you argue the case? I am not prepared to argue it on your terms,’ replied the senior counsel with decision.
answered: ‘If you will not argue, then I am prepared ete our client so desires. I shall have nothing to do with > the case if the error is not admitted.’ i i ked at my client. He was a little embarrassed. I h ve a EEL from the very first. The client fully trusted i a knew me through and through. He said: ‘Well, then, you mazes e case and admit the error. Let us lose, if that is to ill argue th t X cue eth od defend the right.’
of the court not detecting the error or our said I.
268 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH I was delighted. I had expected nothing less from him. The senior counsel again warned me, pitied me for my obduracy, but congratu- lated me all the same.
What happened in the court we shall see in the next chapter.
XLV SHARP PRACTICE?
I had no doubt about the soundness of my advice, but I doubted very much my fitness for doing full justice to the case. I felt it would be a most hazardous undertaking to argue such a difficult case before the Supreme Court, and I appeared before the Bench in fear and trembling.
As soon as I referred to the error in the accounts, one of the judges said: ‘Is not this sharp practice, Mr. Gandhi?’
I boiled within to hear this charge. It was intolerable to be accused of sharp practice when there was not the slightest warrant for it.
‘With a judge prejudiced from the start like this, there is little chance of success in this difficult case,’ I said to myself. But I com- posed my thoughts and answered: ‘I am surprised that your Lordship should suspect sharp practice without hearing me out.’
‘ No question of a charge,’ said the judge. ‘It is a mere suggestion.’
‘The suggestion here seems to me to amount to a charge. I would ask your Lordship to hear me out and then arraign me if there is any occasion for it.’
‘I am sorry to have interrupted you,’ replied the judge. ‘ Pray do go on with your explanation of the discrepancy.’
I had enough material in support of my explanation. Thanks to the judge having raised this question, I was able to rivet the Court’s attention on my argument from the very start. I felt much en- couraged and took the opportunity of entering into a detailed ex- planation. The Court gave me a patient hearing, and I was able to convince the judges that the discrepancy was due entirely to inadvertence. They therefore did not feel disposed to cancel the whole award, which had involved considerable labour.
The opposing counsel seemed to feel secure in the belief that not much argument would be needed after the error had been admitted. But the judges continued to interrupt him, as they were convinced that the error was a slip which could be easily rectified. The counsel laboured hard to attack the award, but the judge who had originally started with the suspicion had now come round definitely to my side.
CLIENTS TURNED CO-WORKERS 269 ‘t Supposing Mr. Gandhi had not admitted the error, what have done?’ he asked. à iii aa “It was impossible for us to secure the services of a more compe- tent and honest expert accountant than the one appointed by us.’
‘The Court must presume that you know your case best. If you cannot point out anything beyond the slip which any expert account- ant is liable to commit, the Court will be loath to compel the parties to go in for fresh litigation and fresh expenses because of a patent mistake. We may not order a fresh hearing when such an error can be easily corrected,’ continued the judge.
And so the counsel’s objection was overruled. The Court either confirmed the award, with the error rectified, or ordered the arbi- trator to rectify the error, I forget which.
I was delighted. So were my client and senior counsel; and I was confirmed in my conviction that it was not impossible to practise law without compromising truth.
Let the reader, however, remember that even truthfulness in the practice of the profession cannot cure it of the fundamental defect that vitiates it.
XLVI CLIENTS TURNED CO-WORKERS The distinction between the legal practice in Natal and that in the Transvaal was that in Natal there was a joint bar; a barrister, whilst he was admitted to the rank of advocate, could also practise as an attorney; whereas in the Transvaal, as in Bombay, the spheres of attorneys and advocates were distinct. A barrister had the right of election whether he would practise as an advocate or as an attor- ney. So whilst in Natal I was admitted as an advocate, in the Transvaal I sought admission as an attorney. For as an advocate I could not have come in direct contact with the Indians and the white attorneys in South Africa would not have briefed me.
But even in the Transvaal it was open to attorneys to appear before magistrates. On one occasion, whilst I was conducting a case before a magistrate in Johannesburg, I discovered that my client had deceived me. I saw him completely break down in the witness box. So without any argument I asked the magistrate to dismiss the case. The opposing counsel was astonished, and the magistrate was pleased. I rebuked my client for bringing a false case to me. He knew that I never accepted false cases, and when I brought the thing home to him, he admitted his mistake, and I have an im- pression that he was not angry with me for having asked the magis- trate to decide against him. At any rate my conduct in this case did not affect my practice for the worse, indeed it made my work 270 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH easier. I also saw that my devotion to truth enhanced my reputation amongst the members of the profession, and in spite of the handicap of colour I was able in some cases to win even their affection.
During my professional work it was also my habit never to conceal my ignorance from my clients or my colleagues. Wherever I felt myself at sea, I would advise my client to consult some other coun- sel, or if he preferred to stick to me, I would ask him to let me seek the assistance of senior counsel. This frankness earned me the unbounded affection and trust of my clients. They were always will- ing to pay the fee whenever consultation with senior counsel was necessary. This affection and trust served me in good stead in my publie work.
I have indicated in the foregoing chapters that my object in prac- tising in South Africa was service of the community. Even for this purpose, winning the confidence of the people was an indispensable condition. The large-hearted Indians magnified into service profes- sional work done for money, and when I advised them to suffer the hardships of imprisonment for the sake of their rights, many of them cheerfully accepted the advice, not so much because they had reasoned out the correctness of the course, as because of their confi- dence in, and affection for, me.
As I write this, many a sweet reminiscence comes to my mind. Hundreds of clients became friends and real co-workers in public service, and their association sweetened a life that was otherwise full of difficulties and dangers.
XLVII HOW A CLIENT WAS SAVED The reader, by now, will be quite familiar with Parsi Rustomji’s name. He was one who became at once my client and co-worker, or perhaps it would be truer to say that he first became co-worker and then client. I won his confidence to such an extent that he sought and followed my advice also in private domestic matters. Even when he was ill, he would seek my aid, and though there was much difference between our ways of living, he did not hesitate to accept my quack treatment.
This friend once got into a very bad scrape. Though he kept me informed of most of his affairs, he had studiously kept back one thing. He was a large importer of goods from Bombay and Calcutta, and not infrequently he resorted to smuggling. But as he was on the best terms with customs officials, no one was inclined to suspect him. In charging duty, they used to take his invoices on trust. Some might even have connived at the smuggling.
HOW A CLIENT WAS SAVED 271 But to use the telling simile of the Gujarati poet Akho, theft like quicksilver won’t be suppressed, and Parsi Rustomji’s proved no exception. The good friend ran post haste to me, the tears rolling down his cheeks as he said: ‘Bhai, I have deceived you. My guilt has been discovered today. I have smuggled and I am doomed. I must go to jail and be ruined. You alone may be able to save me from this predicament. I have kept back nothing else from you, but I thought I ought not to bother you with such tricks of the trade, and so I never told you about this smuggling. But now, how much I repent it!’
I calmed him and said: ‘To save or not to save you is in His hands. As to me you know my way. I can but try to save you by means of confession.’
The good Parsi felt deeply mortified. ‘But is not my confession before you enough 2? he asked.
“You have wronged not me but Government. How will the con- fession made before me avail you?’ I replied gently.
‘Of course I will do just as you advise, but will you not consult with my old counsel Mr. —? He isa friend too,’ said Parsi Rustomji.
Inquiry revealed that the smuggling had been going on for a long time, but the actual offence detected involved a trifling sum. We went to his counsel. He perused the papers, and said: ‘The case will be tried by a jury, and a Natal jury will be the last to acquit an Indian. But I will not give up hope.’
I did not know this counsel intimately. Parsi Rustomji intercepted: ‘I thank you, but I should like to be guided by Mr. Gandhi’s advice in this case. He knows me intimately. Of course you will advise him whenever necessary.’
Having thus shelved the counsel’s question, we went to Parsi Rustomji’s shop.
And now explaining my view I said to him: ‘I don’t think this case should be taken to court at all. It rests with the Customs Officer to prosecute you or to let you go, and he in turn will have to be guided by the Attorney General. I am prepared to meet both. I propose that you should offer to pay the penalty they fix, and the odds are that they will be agreeable. But if they are not, you must be prepared to go to jail. I am of opinion that the shame lies not so much in going to jail as in committing the offence. The deed of shame has already been done. Imprisonment you should regard as a penance. The real penance lies in resolving never to smuggle again.’
I cannot say that Parsi Rustomji took all this quite well. He was a brave man, but his courage failed him for the moment. His name and fame were at stake, and where would he be if the edifice he had reared with such care and labour should go to pieces?
272 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH ‘ Well,.I have told you,’ he said, ‘that I am entirely in your hands. You may do just as you like.’
I brought to bear on this case all my powers of persuasion. I met the Customs Officer and fearlessly apprised him of the whole affair. I also promised to place all the books at his disposal and told him how penitent Parsi Rustomji was feeling.
The Customs Officer said: ‘I like the old Parsi. I am sorry he has made a fooi of himself. You know where my duty lies. I must be guided by the Attorney General and so I would advise you to use all your persuasion with him.’
‘I shall be thankful,’ said I, ‘if you do not insist on dragging him into court.’
Having got him to promise this, I entered into correspondence with the Attorney General and also met him. I am glad to say that he appreciated my complete frankness and was convinced that I had kept back nothing.
I now forget whether it was in connection with this or with some other case that my persistence and frankness extorted from him the remark: ‘I see you will never take a no for an answer.’
The case against Parsi Rustomji was compromised. He was to pay a penalty equal to twice the amount he had confessed to having smuggled. Rustomji reduced to writing the facts of the whole case, got the paper framed and hung it up in his office to serve as a per- petual reminder to his heirs and fellow merchants.
These friends of Rustomji warned me not to be taken in by this transitory contrition. When I told Rustomji about this warning he said: ‘What would be my fate if I deceived you?’
THE STORY OF MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH PART V I THE FIRST EXPERIENCE Before I reached home, the party which had started from Phoenix had already arrived. According to our original plan I was to have preceded them, but my preoccupation in England with the war had upset all our calculations, and when I saw that I had to be detained in England indefinitely, I was faced with the question of finding a place for accommodating the Phoenix party. I wanted them all to stay together in India, if possible, and to live the life they had led at Phoenix. I did not know of any Ashram to which I could recom- mend them to go, and therefore cabled to them to meet Mr. Andrews and do as he advised. s So they were first put in the Gurukul, Kangri, where the late Swami Shraddhanandji treated them as his own children. After this they were put in the Shantiniketan Ashram, where the Poet and his people showered similar love upon them. The experiences they gathered at both these places too stood them and me in good stead.
The Poet, Shraddhanandji and Principal Sushil Rudra, as I used to say to Andrews, composed his trinity. When in South Africa he was never tired of speaking of them, and of my many sweet memories of South Africa, Mr. Andrews’ talks, day in and day out, of this great trinity, are amongst the sweetest and most vivid. Mr. Andrews naturally put the Phoenix party in touch also with Sushil Rudra. Principal Rudra had no Ashram, but he had a home which he placed completely at the disposal of the Phcenix family. Within a day of their arrival, his people made them feel so thoroughly at home that they did not seem to miss Phænix at all.
It was only when I landed in Bombay that I learnt that the Phoenix party was at Shantiniketan. I was therefore impatient to meet them as soon as I could after my meeting with Gokhale.
The receptions in Bombay gave me an occasion for offering what might be called a little Satyagraha. ‘ At the party given in my honour at Mr. Jehangir Petit’s place, I did not dare to speak in Gujarati. In those palatial surroundings of dazzling splendour I, who had lived my best life among inden- tured labourers, felt myself a complete rustic. With my Kathiawadi cloak, turban and dhoti, I looked somewhat more civilized than I do today, but the pomp and splendour of Mr. Petit’s mansion made me feel absolutely out of my element. However, I acquitted myself tolerably well, having taken shelter under Sir Pherozeshah’s pro- tecting wing.
Then there was the Gujarati function. The Gujaratis would not let me go without a reception, which was organized by the late 276 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH Uttamlal Trivedi. I had acquainted myself with the programme beforehand. Mr. Jinnah was present, being a Gujarati, I forget whether as president or as the principal speaker. He made a short and sweet little speech in English. As far as I remember most of the other speeches were also in English. When my turn came, I expressed my thanks in Gujarati explaining my partiality for Guja- rati and Hindustani, and entering my humble protest against the use of English in a Gujarati gathering. This I did, not without some hesitation, for I was afraid lest it should be considered discourteous for an inexperienced man, returned home after a long exile, to enter his protest against established practices. But no one seemed to mis- understand my insistence on replying in Gujarati. In fact I was glad to note that everyone seemed reconciled to my protest.
The meeting thus emboldened me to think that I should not find it difficult to place my new-fangled notions before my countrymen.
After a brief stay in Bombay, full of these preliminary experiences, I went to Poona whither Gokhale had summoned me.
II WITH GOKHALE IN POONA The moment I reached Bombay Gokhale sent me word that the Governor was desirous of seeing me, and that it might be proper for me to respond before I left for Poona. Accordingly I called on His Excellency. After the usual inquiries, he said: ‘I ask one thing of you. I would like you to come and see me whenever you propose to take any steps concerning Government.’
I replied: ‘I can very easily give the promise, inasmuch as it is my rule, as a Satyagrahi, to understand the viewpoint of the party I propose to deal with, and to try to agree with him as far as may be possible. I strictly observed the rule in South Africa and I mean to do the same here.’
Lord Willingdon thanked me and said: ‘You may come to me whenever you like, and you will see that my Government do not wilfully do anything wrong.’
To which I replied: ‘It is that faith which sustains me.’
After this I went to Poona. It is impossible for me to set down all the reminiscences of this precious time. Gokhale and the mem- bers of the Servants of India Society overwhelmed me with affec- tion. So far as I recollect, Gokhale had summoned all of them to meet me. I had a frank talk with them all on every sort of subject.
Gokhale was very keen that I should join the Society and so was I. But the members felt that, as there was a great difference betwee?
WITH GOKHALE IN POONA FTT my ideals and methods of work and theirs, it might not be proper for me to join the Society. Gokhale believed that, in spite of my insistence on my own principles, I was equally ready and able to tolerate theirs.
‘ But, he said, ‘the members of the Society have not yet under- stood your readiness for compromise. They are tenacious of their principles, and quite independent. I am hoping that they will accept you, but if they don’t, you will not for a moment think that they are lacking in respect or love for you. They are hesitating to take any risk lest their high regard for you should be jeopardized. But whether you are formally admitted as a member or not, I am going to look upon you as one.’
I informed Gokhale of my intentions. Whether I was admitted as a member or not, I wanted to have an Ashram where I could settle down with my Phoenix family, preferably somewhere in Gujarat, as, being a Gujarati, I thought I was best fitted to serve the country through serving Gujarat. Gokhale liked the idea. He said: ‘You should certainly do so. Whatever may be the result of your talks with the members, you must look to me for the expenses of the Ashram, which I will regard as my own.’
My heart overflowed with joy. It was a pleasure to feel free from the responsibility of raising funds, and to realize that I should not be’ obliged to set about the work all on my own, but that I should be able to count on a sure guide whenever I was in difficulty. This took a great load off my mind.
So the late Dr. Dev was summoned and told to open an account for me in the Society’s books and to give me whatever I might require for the Ashram and for public expenses.
I now prepared to go to Shantiniketan. On the eve of my depar- ture Gokhale arranged a party of selected friends, taking good care to order refreshments of my liking, i.e., fruits and nuts. The party was held just a few paces from his room, and yet he was hardly in a condition to walk across and attend it. But his affection for me got the better of him and he insisted on coming. He came, but fainted and had to be carried away. Such fainting was not a new thing with him and so when he came to, he sent word that we must go on with the party.
This party was of course no more than a conversazione in the open space opposite the Society’s guesthouse, during which friends had heart-to-heart chats over light refreshments of groundnuts, dates and fresh fruits of the season.
But the fainting fit was to be no common event in my life.
II WAS IT A THREAT?
From Poona I went to Rajkot and Porbandar, where I had to meet my brother’s widow and other relatives.
During the Satyagraha in South Africa I had altered my style of dress so as to make it more in keeping with that of the indentured labourers, and in England also I had adhered to the same style for indoor use. For landing in Bombay I had a Kathiawadi suit of clothes consisting of a shirt, a dhoti, a cloak and a white scarf, all made of Indian mill cloth. But as I was to travel third from Bombay, I re- garded the scarf and the cloak as too much of an incumbrance, so I shed them, and invested in an eight-to-ten-annas Kashmiri cap. One dressed in that fashion was sure to pass muster as a poor man.
On account of the plague prevailing at that time third class passen- gers were being medically inspected at Viramgam or Wadhwan — I forget which. I had slight fever. The inspector on finding that I had a temperature asked me to report myself to the Medical Officer at Rajkot and noted down my name.: Someone had perhaps sent the information that I was passing through Wadhwan, for the tailor Motilal, a noted public worker of the place, met me at the station. He told me about the Viramgam customs, and the hardships railway passengers had to suffer on ac- count of it. I had little inclination to talk because of my fever, and tried to finish with a brief reply which took the form of a question: ‘Are you prepared to go to jail?’
I had taken Motilal to be one of those impetuous youths who do not think before speaking. But not so Motilal. He replied with firm deliberation: ‘We will certainly go to jail, provided you lead us. As Kathiawadis, we have the first right on you. Of course we do not mean to detain you now, but you must promise to halt here on your return. You will be delighted to see the work and the spirit of our youths, and you may trust us to respond as soon as you summon us.’
Motilal captivated me. His comrade eulogizing him, said: ‘Our friend is but a tailor. But he is such a master of his pro- fession that he easily earns Rs. 15 a month— which is just what he needs — working an hour a day, and gives the rest of his time to public work. He leads us all, putting our education to shame.’
Later I came in close contact with Motilal, and I saw that there was no exaggeration in the eulogy. He made a point of spending some days in the then newly started Ashram every month to teach the children tailoring and to do some of the tailoring of the Ashram himself. He would talk to me every day of Viramgam, and the WAS IT A THREAT? 279 hardships of the passengers, which had become absolutely unbearable for him. He was cut off in the prime of youth by a sudden illness, and public life at Wadhwan suffered without him.
On reaching Rajkot, I reported myself to the Medical Officer the next morning. I was not unknown there. The Doctor felt ashamed and was angry with the inspector. This was unnecessary, for the inspector had only done his duty. He did not know me, and even if he had known me, he should not have done otherwise. The Medical Officer would not let me go to him again and insisted on sending an inspector to me instead.
Inspection of third class passengers for sanitary reasons is essential on such occasions. If big men choose to travel third, whatever their position in life, they must voluntarily submit themselves to all the regulations that the poor are subject to, and the officials ought to be impartial. My experience is that the officials, instead of looking upon third class passengers as fellowmen, regard them as so many sheep. They talk to them contemptuously, and brook no reply or argument. The third class passenger has to obey the official as though he were his servant, and the latter may with impunity belabour and black- mail him, and book him his ticket only after putting him to the greatest possible inconvenience, including often missing the train. All this I have seen with my own eyes. No reform is possible unless some of the educated and the rich voluntarily accept the status of the poor, travel third, refuse to enjoy the amenities denied to the poor and, instead of taking avoidable hardships, discourtesies and injustice as a matter of course, fight for their removal.
Wherever I went in Kathiawad I heard complaints about the Viramgam customs hardships. I therefore decided immediately to make use of Lord.Willingdon’s offer. I collected and read all the literature available on the subject, convinced myself that the com- plaints were well-founded, and opened correspondence with the Bom- bay Government. I called on the Private Secretary to Lord Willing- don and waited on His Excellency also. The latter expressed his sympathy but shifted the blame on Delhi. ‘If it had been in our hands, we should have removed the cordon long ago. You should approach the Government of India,’ said the Secretary.
I communicated with the Government of India, but got no reply beyond an acknowledgment. It was only when I had an occasion to meet Lord Chelmsford later that redress could be had. When I placed the facts before him, he expressed his astonishment. He had known nothing of the matter. He gave me a patient hearing, tele- phoned that very moment for papers about Viramgam, and promised to remove the cordon if the authorities had no explanation or defence to offer. Within a few days of this interview I read in the papers that the Viramgam customs cordon had been removed.
I regarded this event as the advent of Satyagraha in India. For during my interview with the Bombay Government the Secretary 280 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH had expressed his disapproval of a reference to Satyagraha ina speech which I had delivered in Bagasra (in Kathiawad).
“Is not this a threat?’ he had asked. ‘ And do you think a power- ful Government will yield to threats? ° ‘This was no threat,’ I had replied. ‘It was educating the people. It is my duty to place before the people all the legitimate remedies for grievances. A nation that wants to come into its own ought to know all the ways and means to freedom. Usually they include vio- lence as the last remedy. Satyagraha, on the other hand, is an abso- lutely non-violent weapon. I regard it as my duty to explain its practice and its limitations. I have no doubt that the British Govern- ment is a powerful Government, but I have no doubt also that Satyagraha is a sovereign remedy.’
The clever Secretary sceptically nodded his head and said: ‘We shall see.’
IV SHANTINIKETAN From Rajkot I proceeded to Shantiniketan. The teachers and stu- dents overwhelmed me with affection. The reception was a beautiful combination of simplicity, art and love. It was here I met Kakasaheb Kalelkar for the first time.
I did not know then why Kalelkar was called ‘Kakasaheb’. But I learnt later on that Sjt. Keshavrao Deshpande, who was a con- temporary and a close friend of mine in England, and who had con- ducted a school in the Baroda State called ‘ Ganganath Vidyalaya’, had given the teachers family names with a view to investing the Vidyalaya with a family atmosphere. Sjt. Kalelkar who was a teacher there came to be called, ‘Kaka’ (lit. paternal uncle). Phadke was called ‘Mama’ (lit. maternal uncle), and Harihar Sharma received the name ‘Anna’ (lit. brother). Others also got similar names. Anandanand (Swami) as Kaka’s friend and Patwardhan (Appa) as Mama’s friend later joined the family, and all in course of time became my co-workers one after another. Sjt. Deshpande himself used to be called ‘Saheb’. When the Vidyalaya had to be dissolved, the family also broke up, but they never gave up their spiritual relationship or their assumed names.
Kakasaheb went out to gain experience of different institutions, and at the time I went to Shantiniketan, he happened to be there. Chintaman Shastri, belonging to the same fraternity, was there also. Both helped in teaching Samskrit.
The Phoenix family had been assigned separate quarters at Shanti- niketan. Maganlal Gandhi was at their head, and he had made it his business to see that all the rules of the Phcenix Ashram should SHANTINIKETAN 281 be scrupulously observed. I saw that, by dint of his love, knowledge and perseverance, he had made his fragrance felt in the whole of Shantiniketan.
Andrews was there, and also Pearson. Amongst the Bengali teachers with whom we came in fairly close contact were Jagada- nandbabu, Nepalbabu, Santoshbabu, Kshitimohanbabu, Nagenbabu, Sharadbabu and Kalibabu.
As is my wont, I quickly mixed with the teachers and students, and engaged them in a discussion on self-help. I put it to the teachers that, if they and the boys dispensed with the services of paid cooks and cooked their food themselves, it would enable the teachers to control the kitchen from the point of view of the boys’ physical and moral health, and it would afford to the students an object-lesson in self-help. One or two of them were inclined to shake their heads. Some of them strongly approved of the proposal. The boys welcomed it, if only because of their instinctive taste for novelty. So we laun- ched the experiment. When I invited the Poet to express his opinion, he said that he did not mind it provided the teachers were favourable. To the boys he said, ‘The experiment contains the key to Swaraj.’
Pearson began to wear away his body in making the experiment a success. He threw himself into it with zest. A batch was formed to cut vegetables, another to clean the grain, and so on. Nagenbabu and others undertook to see to the sanitary cleaning of the kitchen and its surroundings. It was a delight to me to see them working spade in hand.