22. 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 small-pox 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.'
'What you say is quite right,'
said I. 'As a doctor you could not do otherwise. But my responsibility
is very great. If the boy had been grown up, I should certainly have tried
to ascertain his wishes and respected them. But here I have to think and
decide for him. To my mind it is only on such occasions that a man's faith
is truly tested. Rightly or wrongly, it is part of my religious conviction
that man may not eat meat, eggs, and the like. There should be a limit
even to the means of keeping ourselves alive. Even for life itself we may
not do certain things. Religion, as I understand it, does not permit me
to use meat or eggs for me or mine even on occasions like this, and I must
therefore take the risk that you say is likely. But I beg of you one thing.
As I cannot avail myself of your treatment, I propose to try some hydropathic
remedies which I happen to know. But I shall not know how to examine the
boy's pulse, chest, lungs, etc. If you will kindly look in from time to
time to examine him and keep me informed of his condition, I shall be grateful
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 degrees. 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.
I was sorely tired. I left Manilal
in the charge of his mother, and went out for a walk on Chaupati to refresh
myself. It was about ten o'clock. Very few pedestrians were out. Plunged
in deep thought, I scarcely looked at them. 'My honour is in Thy keeping,
oh Lord, in this hour of trial,' I repeated to myself. Ramanama
was on my lips. After a short time I returned, my heart beating within
No sooner had I entered the
room than Manilal said, 'You have returned, Bapu?'
'Do please pull me out. I am
'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
'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 Manlial 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.