26. TWO PASSIONS
Hardly ever have I known
anybody to cherish such loyalty as I did to the British Constitution. I
can see now that my love of truth was at the root of this loyalty. It has
never been possible for me to simulate loyalty, or for that matter any
other virtue. The National Anthem used to be sung at every meeting that
I attended in Natal. I then felt that I must also join in the singing.
Not that I was unaware of the defects in British rule, but I thought it
was on the whole acceptable. In those days I believed that British rule
was on the whole beneficial to the ruled.
The colour prejudice that I
saw in South Africa was, I thought, quite contrary to British traditions,
and I believed that it was only temporary and local. I therefore vied with
Englishmen in loyalty to the throne. With careful perseverance I learnt
the tune of the National Anthem, and joined in the singing whenever it
was sung. Whenever there was an occasion for the expression of loyalty
without fuss or ostentation, I readily took part in it.
Never in my life did I exploit
this loyalty, never did I seek to gain a selfish end by its means. It was
for me more in the nature of an obligation, and I rendered it without expecting
Preparations were going on for
the celebrations of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee when I reached India.
I was invited to join the committee appointed for the purpose in Rajkot.
I accepted the offer, but had a suspicion that the celebrations would be
largely a matter of show. I discovered much humbug about them, and was
considerably pained. I began to ask myself whether I should remain on the
committee or not, but ultimately decided to rest content with doing my
part of the business.
One of the proposals was to
plant trees. I saw that many did it merely for show and for pleasing the
officials. I tried to plead with them that tree-planting was not compulsory,
but merely a suggestion. It should be done seriously or not at all. I have
an impression that they laughed at my ideas. I remember that I was in earnest
when I planted the tree allotted to me, and that I carefully watered and
I likewise taught the National
Anthem to the children of my family. I recollect having taught it to students
of the local Training College, but I forget whether it was on the occasion
of the Jubilee or of King Edward VII's coronation as Emperor of India.
Later on the text began to jar on me. As my conception of ahimsa
went on maturing, I became more vigilant about my thought and speech. The
lines in the Anthem:
'Scatter her enemies,
particularly jarred upon my sentiment of ahimsa.
I shared my feelings with Dr. Booth, who agreed that it ill became a believer
in ahimsa to sing those lines. How could we assume that the so-called
'enemies' were 'knavish'? And because they were enemies, were they bound
to be in the wrong? From God we could only ask for justice. Dr. Booth entirely
endorsed my sentiments, and composed a new anthem for his congregation.
But of Dr. Booth more later.
And make them fail;
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks'
Like loyalty, an aptitude for
nursing was also deeply rooted in my nature. I was fond of nursing people,
whether friends or strangers.
Whilst busy in Rajkot with the
pamphlet on South Africa, I had an occasion to pay a flying visit to Bombay.
It was my intention to educate public opinion in cities on this question
by organizing meetings, and Bombay was the first city I chose. First of
all I met Justice Ranade, who listened to me with attention, and advised
me to meet Sir Pherozeshah Mehta. Justice Badruddin Tyabji, whom I met
next, also gave me the same advice. 'Justice Ranade and I can guide you
but little,' he said. 'You know our position. We cannot take an active
part in public affairs, but our sympathies are with you. The man who can
effectively guide you is Sir Pherozeshah Mehta.'
I certainly wanted to see Sir
Pherozeshah Mehta, but the fact that these senior men advised me to act
according to his advice gave me a better idea of the immense influence
that Sir Pherozeshah had on the public. In due course I met him. I was
prepared to be awed by his presence. I had heard of the popular titles
that he had earned, and knew that I was to see the 'Lion of Bombay', the
'Uncrowned King of the Presidency'. But the king did not overpower me.
He met me as a loving father would meet his grown up son. Our meeting took
place at his chamber. He was surrounded by a circle of friends and followers.
Amongst them were Mr. D. E. Wacha and Mr. Cama, to whom I was introduced.
I had already heard of Mr. Wacha. He was regarded as the right-hand man
of Sir Pherozeshah, and Sjt. Virchand Gandhi had described him to me as
a great statistician. Mr. Wacha said, 'Gandhi, we must meet again.'
These introductions could scarcely
have taken two minutes. Sir Pherozeshah carefully listened to me. I told
him that I had seen Justices Ranade and Tyabji. 'Gandhi,' said he, 'I see
that I must help you. I must call a public meeting here.' With this he
turned to Mr. Munshi, the secretary, and told him to fix up the date of
the meeting. The date was settled, and he bade me good-bye, asking me to
see him again on the day previous to the meeting. The interview removed
my fears, and I went home delighted.
During this stay in Bombay I
called on my brother-in-law, who was staying there and lying ill. He was
not a man of means, and my sister (his wife) was not equal to nursing him.
The illness was serious, and I offered to take him to Rajkot. He agreed,
and so I returned home with my sister and her husband. The illness was
much more prolonged than I had expected. I put my brother-in-law in my
room and remained with him night and day. I was obliged to keep awake part
of the night, and had to get through some of my South African work whilst
I was nursing him. Ultimately, however, the patient died, but it was a
great consolation to me that I had had an opportunity to nurse him during
his last days.
My aptitude for nursing gradually
developed into a passion, so much so that it often led me to neglect my
work, and on occasions I engaged not only my wife but the whole household
in such service.
Such service can have no meaning
unless one takes pleasure in it. When it is done for show or for fear of
public opinion, it stunts the man and crushes his spirit. Service which
is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served. But all
other pleasures and possessions pale into nothingness before service which
is rendered in a spirit of joy.