14. MY CHOICE
Dr. Mehta went on Monday
to the Victoria Hotel, expecting to find me there. He discovered that we
had left, got our new address, and met me at our rooms. Through sheer folly
I had managed to get ringworm on the boat. For washing and bathing we used
to have sea-water, in which soap is not soluble. I, however, used soap,
taking its use to be a sign of civilization, with the result that instead
of cleaning the skin it made it greasy. This gave me ringworm. I showed
it to Dr. Mehta, who told me to apply acetic acid. I remember how the burning
acid made me cry. Dr. Mehta inspected my room and its appointments and
shook his head in disapproval. 'This place won't do,' he said. 'We come
to England not so much for the purpose of studies as for gaining experience
of English life and customs. And for this you need to live with a family.
But before you do so, I think you had better serve a period of apprenticeship
with ---- . I will take you there.'
I gratefully accepted the suggestion
and removed to the friend's rooms. He was all kindness and attention. He
treated me as his own brother, initiated me into English ways and manners,
and accustomed me to talking the language. My food, however, became a serious
question. I could not relish boiled vegetables cooked without salt or condiments.
The landlady was at a loss to know what to prepare for me. We had oatmeal
porridge for breakfast, which was fairly filling, but I always starved
at lunch and dinner. The friend continually reasoned with me to eat meat,
but I always pleaded my vow and then remained silent. Both for luncheon
and dinner we had spinach and bread and jam too. I was good eater and had
a capacious stomach; but I was ashamed to ask for more than two or three
slices of bread, as it did not seem correct to do so. Added to this, there
was no milk either for lunch or dinner. The friend once got disgusted with
this state of things, and said: 'Had you been my own brother, I would have
sent you packing. What is the value of a vow made before an illiterate
mother, and in ignorance of conditions here? It is no vow at all. It would
not be regarded as vow in law. It is pure superstition to sick to such
a promise. And I tell you this persistence will not help you to gain anything
here. You confess to having eaten and relished meat. You took it where
it was absolutely unnecessary, and will not where it is quite essential.
What a pity!'
But I was adamant.
Day in and day out the friend
would argue, but I had an eternal negative to face him with. The more he
argued, the more uncompromising I became. Daily I would pray for God's
protection and get it. Not that I had any idea of God. It was faith that
was at work--faith of which the seed had been sown by the good nurse Rambha.
One day the friend began to
read to me Bentham's Theory of Utility. I was at my wits' end. The
language was too difficult for me to understand . He began to expound it.
I said: 'Pray excuse me. These abstruse things are beyond me. I admit it
is necessary to eat meat. But I cannot break my vow. I cannot argue about
it. I am sure I cannot meet you in argument. But please give me up as foolish
or obstinate. I appreciate your love for me and I know you to be my well-wisher.
I also know that you are telling me again and again about this because
you feel for me. But I am helpless. A vow is a vow. It cannot be broken.'
The friend looked at me in surprise.
He closed the book and said: 'All right. I will not argue any more.' I
was glad. He never discussed the subject again. But he did not cease to
worry about me. He smoked and drank, but he never asked me to do so. In
fact, he asked me to remain away from both. His one anxiety was lest I
should become very weak without meat, and thus be unable to feel at home
That is how I served my apprenticeship
for a month. The friend's house was in Richmond, and it was not possible
to go to London more than once or twice a week. Dr. Mehta and Sjt. Dalpatram
Shukla therefore decided that I should be put with some family. Sjt. Shukla
hit upon an Anglo-Indian's house in West Kensington and placed me there.
The landlady was a widow. I told her about my vow. The old lady promised
to look after me properly, and I took up my residence in the house. Here
too I practically had to starve. I had sent for sweets and other eatables
from home, but nothing had yet come. Everything was insipid. Every day
the old lady asked me whether I liked the food, but what could she do?
I was still as shy as ever and dared not ask for more than was put before
me. She had two daughters. They insisted on serving me with an extra slice
or two of bread. But little did they know that nothing less than a loaf
would have filled me.
But I had found my feet now.
I had not yet started upon my regular studies. I had just begun reading
newspapers, thanks to Sjt. Shukla. In India I had never read a newspaper.
But here I succeeded in cultivating a liking for them by regular reading.
I always glanced over The Daily News, The Daily Telegraph,
and The Pall Mall Gazette. This took me hardly an hour. I therefore
began to wander about. I launched out in search of a vegetarian restaurant.
The landlady had told me that there were such places in the city. I would
trot ten or twelve miles each day, go into a cheap restaurant and eat my
fill of bread, but would never be satisfied. During these wanderings I
once hit on a vegetarian restaurant in Farringdon Street. The sight of
it filled me with the same joy that a child feels on getting a thing after
its own heart. Before I entered I noticed books for sale exhibited under
a glass window near the door. I saw among them Salt's Plea for Vegetarianism.
This I purchased for a shilling and went straight to the dining room. This
was my first hearty meal since my arrival in England. God had come to my
I read Salt's book from cover
to cover and was very much impressed by it. From the date of reading this
book, I may claim to have become a vegetarian by choice. I blessed the
day on which I had taken the vow before my mother. I had all along abstained
from meat in the interests of truth and of the vow I had taken, but had
wished at the same time that every Indian should be a meat-eater, and had
looked forward to being one myself freely and openly some day, and to enlisting
others in the cause. The choice was now made in favour of vegetarianism,
the spread of which henceforward became my mission.