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AN INDICATIVE MAP OF SOUTH AFRICA (1890)

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Ordained in South Africa

Ordained in South Africa

J. N. UPPAL

PUBLICATIONS DIVISION

MINISTRY OF INFORMATION AND BROADCASTING

GOVERNMENT OF INDIA

First Published : August 1995 (Sravana 1917) Second Revised Reprint: 2007 (Saka 1929)

©J.N. Uppal

ISBN : 81-230-0284-X

GLI-ENG-REP-034-2007-08

Price: Rs. 380.00

Published by the Addl. Director General, Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting,

Government of India, Soochna Bhawan, CGO Complex,

Lodhi Road, New Delhi- 110 003

Website : http://www.publicationsdivision.nic.in

Editing: Nitima Shiv Charan

Cover Design: Asha Saxena

Front Cover : Gandhiji as Barrister in South Africa.

Back Cover : Map depicting South Africa in 1900;

Gandhiji as Satyagrahi in South Africa in 1913

Sales Centres : • Soochna Bhawan, CGO Complex, Lodhi Road, New Delhi- 110 003 • Hall No. 196, Old Secretariat, Delhi-1 10054 • 701, C-Wing, 7th Floor, Kendriya Sadan, Belapur, Navi Mumbai-400614,# 8, Esplanade East, Kolkata - 700 069 • ‘A’ Wing, Rajaji Bhawan, Besant Nagar, Chennai-600 090 • Press Road, Near Govt. Press, Thiruvananthapuram - 695 001 • Block No. 4, 1st Floor, Gruhakalpa Complex, M.J. Road, Nampally, Hyderabad-500 001 • 1st Floor, ‘F’ Wing, Kendriya Sadan, Koramangala, Bangalore-560 034 • Bihar State Co-operative Bank Building, Ashoka Rajpath, Patna-800 004 • Hall No. 1, 2nd Floor, Kendriya Bhawan, Sector-H, Aliganj, Lucknow-226024 • Ambica Complex, 1st Floor, Above UCO Bank, Paldi, Ahmedabad-380 007 • House No. 07, Cheni Kuthi, New Colony, K.K.B. Road, Guwahati-781 003

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About the author

Jagannath Uppal was born in 1920 at Chakmughalanl, a small village of Punjab. After about ten years of schooling at Nakodar, followed by graduation at Jalandhar, he completed his education from St. Stephen’s College of Delhi Uni¬ versity in 1943.

Subsequent to his retirement from public service in 1979, he was en¬ gaged in research and writing. His first book, Bengal Famine of 1943 - A Man - made Tragedy, was published in 1984. He had been occasionally contributing articles to The Statesman - Kolkata/New Delhi. After completion of his work con¬ nected with Gandhi - Ordained in South Africa, in 1995, he resumed his study of widespread poverty in India. This prolonged in-depth scrutiny of unending poverty and the processes of impoverishment had provided him with certain insights. Till his demise recently he was working on a policy framework, that he believed couid generate massive increments in employment and help eradicate poverty in India.

'

Preface

When the Indians at Durban were engaged in a stormy satyagraha campaign tagainst the Ghetto Act,* Mahatma Gandhi had felt induced to speak on the subject at length at a prayer meeting in New Delhi on June 28, 1 946. While doing so, he fondly reminisced about his Natal and the Transvaal days and remarked that he was born in India bat was made in South Africa 'where he had passed twenty years of his life at its meridian.' He had, thus, re-confirmed the importance he attached to the period spent by him in the service of his countrymen in that subcontinent. It is a universally accepted fact now that whatever Gandhi had imbibed, practised or enunciated in South Africa holds the key to the entire spectrum of Gandhian thought and the pinnacle of greatness later attained by him as a man of action.

This book aims at a more detailed and revealing treatment of his South Africa years than is available in most of his biographies wherein that part of his life gets overshadowed by the dazzling role played by him in India's fight for independence. The idea is to exclusively portray the South Africa period on a canvas large enough to satisfy the ever-so-curious among the Gandhi enthusiasts, anxious to understand precisely how an obscure young Indian lawyer striving for his livelihood, after reaching South Africa, gave a completely new direction to his life and slowly evolved himself into an eminent political leader and, later, a Mahatma.

For Gandhi, the South Africa experience was not something in the nature of veni, vidi, v/c/.lt was hard struggle all the way. During the first few years in Natal, the demands of a reasonably good living could not be shrugged off. Apart from having to provide for his wife and children, he was fretfully anxious to recompense his eldest brother who had paid for his education in England with much difficulty, even incurring debts. At the same time, deep inside him had grown an irresistible urge to serve the cause of his compatriots in South Africa. This last factor in due course brought him a deep sense of fulfilment, but it was not without its heart-breaking torments. The twinklings of joy were often followed by seizures of anguish. Dealing with individuals like Lord Milner and General Smuts could not have been a simple task. Within the Indian community, if there were many who had implicit faith in

This is how the Indian community had described South Africa's newly passed Asiatic Land Tenure and Indian Representation Law which involved further curtailment of land purchase and residence rights.

him, he had his share of detractors who did not hesitate to heckle and hound him. In the household, too, everything was not so smooth and agreeable. In the midst of trials and tribulations, Gandhi perseveringly followed the path he had charted for himself. His honesty of purpose and sincerity earned him unsparing help from his friends and associates. Whatever inner void and doubts he was troubled by could be overcome, thanks to the influence exercised by certain kindred souls. Above all, as Gandhi himself affirmed, time and again, God's own hand was always there at every turn.

While weaving the warp and weft of this high drama into a running narrative, effort has been made to bring out how the two salient facets of Gandhi's frame of mind, namely, love of truth and revulsion for the use of brute force, pollinated each other to produce the Gandhian creed of satyagraha in the course of the Indian community's fight against South Africa's racist regime to secure their basic rights. Non-violent protest against injustice, which constitutes the central point of satyagraha, is as old as civilization. But the way Gandhi amplified it into a full-fledged ideology and used it as an instrument of change was new to the world. By organizing non-violent campaigns in the land of stark racial segregation, Gandhi had played a pioneering role in switching on a world-wide movement against racism which, despite ups and downs, continues to gather more and more strength.

An equally significant enterprise embarked upon by Gandhi in South Africa, closely linked to the cult of satyagraha, was that of advancing ethical values into the realm of politics. Staunchly opposed to Machiavellian expediency, he not only articulated but also diligently put into practice a code of rigorous political morality. In this case too the Gandhian touch imparted to this value system a peculiar kind of effulgence which even the most hard- headed cynics could not lightly dismiss.

Strangely, Aurobindo Ghosh, the revolutionary-turned-sage, responding to the crisis the Indian national movement was faced with, had in July 1 909 made an observation which in retrospect looks like a mysterious premonition: 'All great movements wait for their God-sent leader, the willing channel of force, and only when he comes, move forward triumphantly to their fulfilment... Therefore the nationalist party, custodians of the future, must wait for the man who is to come, calm in the midst of calamity, hopeful under defeat, sure of eventual ... triumph ...' The ordained leader had got himself ready in South Africa for the larger task which was to be undertaken by him after returning to India. By leading this country to freedom with the help of methods he had devised in South Africa, he ultimately set in motion another global movement directed against colonial exploitation.

The special charm of Gandhi's life in South Africa lies in the gradual manifestation of some attractive features of his personal character as a human being and the emergence of certain distinctive elements of his world-view. The manner in which he interacted with the people he came across was particularly striking. With some of his friends he had immeas-urably intense

relationships, completely out of this world. An Indian to the core, Gandhi had absorbed a good deal from the west, though as he went along, he totally rejected the modern civilization and deplored the way of life ushered in by the industrial revolution. This aspect of his mindset found concrete and living expression in the village-like community life he had instituted at Phoenix and the Tolstoy Farm.

Thoroughly unconventional, Gandhi was at ease as much with the mighty as with the humble. Possessing neither the power of eloquent speech nor a commanding physical presence, he could enter the hearts of the people, high or low, through sheer unaffected cordiality. His passion for peace did not prevent him from being a determined fighter. He was conciliatory and militant, moderate and radical, simple and complex at the same time. The fusion of such antitheses in him was perhaps the secret of his strength. All in all, he remains one of the most charismatic persons amongst the greats of the twentieth century, occupying a unique place in the thinking of the common folk anywhere in the world.

Gandhi's working life can be viewed as a moral-cum-spiritual expedition in two stages separated from each other, both in time and space. The South Africa phase can be compared to a long-winding trek from the foothills to the high point of a mountain topping out into a tableland. The second part from 1915 to the last day of his life has then to be looked at as a maze of encounters with problems of gargantuan proportions in the difficult terrain in which Gandhi had to toil on the plateau representing India in search of its destiny. If in the latter case he had to operate at a higher plane and the challenges faced by him were more trying, in the former phase, behind every bit of ascent gained, there was an unimaginably arduous exertion on his part. It had necessarily to be backed by an enormous capacity to break new paths on an untrodden route. In consequence, whatever he was able to do in South Africa represented the formidable, but indispensable, groundwork for the decisive test which the Gandhian techniques were finally put to in India.

The main story to be told in this book starts with the second chapter, after a brief sketch of Mohandas's early years in the first. The family in which he was born, the kind of upbringing he had, his premature matrimony and the three years he spent in England for law, all had a great deal to do with the onset of psychic processes that influenced the entire course of his life.

New Delhi July 27, 1995

J.N.U.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

Over the years, after publication of this book’s first edition in 1 995, some of my friends and many other readers who came in contact with me, had been asking me how and why after writing on the Bengal Famine of 1 943, 1 undertook to spend nearly ten years researching and writing about Gandhi’s South Africa years. It was simple enough for everyone to understand that the Bengal Famine work had left me highly sensitized about India’s problem of unending poverty that had gripped a large proportion of its population. I spent a few months reading what important contributions had been made on this subject by leading economists and other social scientists. Not quite satisfied with the remedial measures tried so far and the results borne by them, I took up studying Gandhi who I thought had a deeper understanding of rural India which figured more significantly in this context. That is what led to my shift toward studying Gandhi’s life, work and world view in a systematic way. During the period of my focus on Gandhian literature, I was seized by an alluring charm of the South Africa part of his life. I had read the best of classics. No creative writer could have conceived the evolution of human character comparable in its potency to what had actually happened in Gandhi’s life from the moment he landed on South African soil until he finally left its shores in 1 91 4.

It is the overwhelming sense of fascination which compelled me to keep my obsession with India’s problem of poverty aside for some time until I had shared this enchantment of mine with admirers as well as critics of M.K. Gandhi. The work that was taking shape on my mental horizon had also the potential of becoming a powerful source of inspiration to those feeling drawn toward public work. They could not have a better role modell than this ‘Mahatma in the making’.

For the second edition of this book, I have thought it necessary to add another chapter ‘Legacy Left Behind’. What induced me to do that is Nelson Mandela’s observation: ‘He (MK Gandhi) served his apprenticeship in South Africa for 21 years and then as the Mahatma liberated, through

mass action, India from her imperialist bondage. Gandhiji was a South African and his memory deserves to be cherished now and in the post¬ apartheid era.’

New Delhi August 16, 2007

J.N.U.

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Acknowledgements

In the first place I would like to mention the encouragement I received from my good friend Muni Lai at the time I began working on this subject. I had been reading Gandhi for quite some time before I got the urge to carefully study the South Africa period of his life and write about it. It was Muni Lai who, besides approving of this idea, helped me a great deal in remaining firm about it until I had reached a point from which there was no turning back.

Amongst the other friends who were of great help to me are Prof. A.K. Gupta and Baren Ray to whom I could freely go whenever I was up against some serious doubt. The discussions I had with them invariably enabled me to view the relevant issues more clearly. Prof. Gupta was gracious enough to look through some portions of the manuscript and give me very useful suggestions.

I have acknowledged in the text a number of short quotations from various books. To their authors I express my gratitude. But I must underline my indebtedness to Pyarelal and Sushila Nayar, besides Robert A. Huttenback and Maureen Swan, for the help I have derived from their books to construct my narrative.

To Sudhir Chandra Mathur and his wife Madhu Mathur I must extend my grateful thanks for the pains taken by them to prepare a nicely finished print-out of the manuscript on their computer system. Their Technical Assistant Suzan worked very hard for five long months.

In equal measure I am obliged to Dr. O.P. Kejariwal, Director, Publica¬ tions Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, New Delhi for the care with which the book has been produced. One concrete manifestation of the interest taken by him was assignment of the responsibility for editorial work to Ms. Lalita Zackariah who, for her part, performed this task with great diligence and discernment.

I remain thankful to the National Archives of India and the Sapru House Library, New Delhi for the facilities extended to me. What I can never forget is the assistance I received at the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, Teen Murti House, New Delhi at all levels. I should like to make special mention of Dr H.D. Sharma, Deputy Director and Ms. Surinder Kaur, Assistant Librarian.

Finally, I must acknowledge the great moral backing I received from my

wife Sarala. It is because of her whole-hearted support that I could give undivided attention to this work. Thanks to my sons Satish and Rajiv, I found it possible to complete it without any kind of institutional funding.

New Delhi July 27, 1995

J.N.U.

Contents

Beginnings	1
Call of the Unknown	19
Lead Thou Me On	26
The Colonial Sequence	33
The Coming of Indians	45
He Feels His Way	57
On Anchor	67
Finds His Moorings	74
Natal Indian Congress	81
Man of Law	88
Earnest Petitioner	96
Visit to India	109
Grapes of Wrath	116
Bellows — Full of Angry Wind	130
The Transvaal Scene	143
The Anglo-Boer War	149
From the Mundane to the Sublime	161
Homeward	170
A New Challenge	179
Phoenix	197
In Uniform Again	205
A Solemn Pledge	213
Deputation to England	220
Passive Resistance	226
Satyagraha	237
Compromise and Its Aftermath	247
The Second Round	263

One More Spell in England 281

Hind Swaraj 294

Support from India 307

Tolstoy Farm 312

The Leo Light 319

The Union 323

Provisional Settlement 332

Unto His Family 345

The Gokhale Visit 359

Another Crisis 36 7

Third Round 377

Climax 385

Denouement 396

Adieu 408

Legacy Left Behind 420

Bibliography 429

References ' 433

Glossary 439

Abbreviations 440

Index 441

Illustrations between

236-237

BEGINNINGS

Octobers, 1869

The importance attached to this date in India should be known to anyone acquainted with the country. When the Dewan of Porbandar and his wife were being congratulated by kinsmen, friends and neighbours for the birth of their youngest son that day, no one amongst them could have imagined what the future had in store for this infant. Yet, how prophetically his parents named him Mohandas (the servant of God)!

Porbandar was a port town in Kathiawar, a peninsular bulge on the northern reaches of India's west coast, forming part of Gujarat. An important harbour at one time, known for overseas trade with the neighbouring countries as well as Africa and East Indies, it was now the capital of a small princely state. Having most of its dwellings, temples and other buildings made of creamy white limestone, it was popularly called the White City. Surrounded by the Arabian Sea waters at least on three sides and sometimes liable to be completely cut off, it was served by a bridge connecting it with the mainland. It was protected against the inroads of freebooters, by city walls several feet thick. In many ways it was an interesting place for a growing child and had plenty of narrow lanes and spacious courtyards for the restless Moniya (Mohandas's pet name) to romp about.

The Gandhis, belonging to the Vaishya caste, traditionally engaged themselves in small business as grocers and vendors of herbal medicines. An enterprising member of the clan, Lalji Gandhi, moved out from Junagarh state around the turn of the seventeenth to eighteenth century and settled down in Porbandar where he came to occupy the high office of Naib Dewan. After him his son, his grandson and then his great-grandson succeeded to that office one after the other. The last one, Harjivan Gandhi, handed down the post to his brother Daman Gandhi. Harjivan Gandhi's only son, Uttamchand, who started as a Collector of Customs was so venturesome and dynamic that the local ruler felt induced to appoint him his Chief Minister when he was still very young. As was expected of him, he proved an able administrator. But the Queen Regent, under whose control the state passed after the yoqng chieftain's untimely death, did not value the Chief Minister’s honesty and uprightness. She was enraged when he

2

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

tried to protect a straightforward official who had earned the displeasure of her ladies-in-waiting. The matter went so far that the Queen sent an armed troop to surround and shell the house of her Dewan who in turn had fortified it to enable his bodyguard to offer resistance. Soon after the fighting started, the British Political Agent intervened and stopped the outrage.

Uttamchand, along with his family, left for his native village in Junagarh. The Nawab of that state was kindly disposed to him. When he went to pay homage to His Highness, he saluted the Nawab with his left hand. He was at once questioned for breach of etiquette. He spontaneously replied that his right hand was already pledged to Porbandar. The royal displeasure mixed with an element of admiration for Uttamchand's sense of loyalty to his erstwhile master brought him the nominal punishment of having to stand barefoot in the sun for ten minutes. At the same time, the Nawab chivalrously conferred on him and his descendants the rights of trading without payment of customs duty.

When the Queen Regent's rule in Porbandar ended, an effort was made by the new chieftain to reinstate Uttamchand Gandhi as Dewan. Instead of accepting the offer for himself, he had his son Karamchand appointed Chief Minister of that state. The latter held the office for nearly three decades. He was as high-minded* as his father. Though Uttamchand and Karamchand were holders of high office, they had not had the advantage of much formal education. Their strength lay in administrative skill, acquired through experience, combined with sincerity and integrity.

Karamchand had been a widower twice. His first two wives died, each leaving him a daughter. From his seriously ailing third wife, he obtained consent tore-many He was about forty at the time of his fourth marriage with Putalibai, still in her early teens. She bore him a daughter and three sons. Mohandas was the youngest among them. Even as Dewan of Porbandar, Karamchand had lived in a small wing on the ground floor of the house which had been with the Gandhi family for three generations. It was in this house that Mohan grew up with his brothers, sisters and cousins, surrounded by numerous uncles and aunts. Living amongst them, it was not difficult for him to imbibe some of the qualities that became relevant to the ashram way of life he was to adopt in later years. Karamchand's children knew that their father was the virtual ruler of the principality. Nevertheless, they all led an utterly simple life, aware of the fact that they were born to rank and privilege, not riches.

At home, Mohan spent much of the time under the care of his mother, his sister Raliatbehn (seven years senior to him) and his nurse Rambha. As the youngest child of his parents, he was the darling of the family and,

Later, as Dewan of Rajkot, he once disdainfully snubbed the Assistant Political Agent for having made some disparaging remarks about his chieftain. For this act of impudence he was put under arrest and called to tender an apology, but he refused to bow down. The British officer, impressed by his boldness, dropped the matter. Pyarelal, Mahatma Gandhi: The Early Phase, (Ahmedabad, 1965), p.185.

BEGINNINGS

3

therefore, could not remain unspoilt. Even other people in the town and its vicinity would fuss over him and thus shore up his budding ego. Later in life, talking of his childhood, he told a friend: 'I roamed about in the villages in a bullock cart. As I was the son of a Dewan, people fed me on the way with jawar roti and curds and at times gave me eight-anna pieces.'

He attended a primary school at Porbandar. One important thing he later recollected about this period was the difficulty with which he got through the multiplication table. He was still very small when his father, feeling unhappy over happenings at the court, gave up the office of Dewan, there, in favour of his brother Tulsidas and moved to Rajkot, another princely state about 120 miles to the north-east. For about two years Karamchand functioned as a Karbhari (administrator) and was then appointed Dewan of that state. His family later joined him at Rajkot, a place having better facilities for education. Mohan had the rest of his schooling there.

Karamchand Gandhi had not completed even two years in his new appointment when, under a special arrangement between the rulers of Rajkot and Vankaner, he was offered the post of Chief Administrator of the latter state, on a five-year contract, with an undertaking that if he had to give up this office before completion of his tenure he would be entitled to payment of salary for the remaining period. He accepted this appointment on the assurance that he would have a free hand in running the administration, so long as he did not exceed his powers. Within less than a year it became clear that the ruler of the state could not desist from interfering with the day-to-day working and Karamchand was left with no option but to tender his resignation, in which he made it clear that he was constrained to do so because of non- observance of the stipulated conditions on the Thakore's part. The latter could not swallow this reference to breach of agreement from his side and tried to pressurize Karamchand to recast his letter and remove the portion he considered offensive, as a condition to payment of his salary for the rest of the contract period. Karamchand did not budge one wee bit. The ruler then offered to pay an ad hoc sum of Rs. 1 0,000. The unyielding chief insisted on formal acceptance of his resignation and full payment of what was due to him or none at all. He was not prepared to accept anything less offered to him as a matter of grace to which he was not clearly entitled. His Highness tried to draw him on: 'You won't find another ruler... willing to pay such a big sum just like that. I hear you intend sending your son to England. The largesse I am offering will come handy then. Reconsider your decision, therefore, for your children's sake.' To this Karamchand replied: 'Large-hearted princes, whom God has blessed with plenty, may yet be found, but you won't easily find another humble servant like me who, though in need, would refuse to be tempted even by a largesse such as yours, at the cost of truth.' When Karamchand was at last leaving Vankaner, sacks full of money were quietly placed in the carriage. This fact, however, did not escape his notice. He saw to it that these bags were returned to the ruler.

4

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

Only then did he start on his journey to Rajkot where, after a short intervening period, he rejoined as Chief Minister of that state.

Some of the virtues of Mohan's father and grandfather who did not attach much importance to material wealth, had passed down to him. The influence of his kindly mother, however, was more potent. She came from a family belonging to the comparatively humble Pranami sect which combined the teachings of Islam and Hinduism, enjoining equal reverence for the Koran and the Hindu scriptures and known for charity, temperateness and tolerance. Putalibai herself was an extremely tender-hearted person, unaffected by religious prejudice of any kind. Her saintliness was fine-tuned with discernment and wisdom. Close to the women of the royal house, she exercised considerable influence in the affairs of the state. Everyone admired the lady for her amicability and devoutness. To be of help to the poor and needy was one of her important traits. These elements of Putalibai's character and her austere life, an endless chain of fasts and otherforms of self-denial, seem to have left an indelible mark on Mohan's mind. When, however, it came to things like remaining away from the untouchable household sweeper, the curiou boy had many questions to ask and his mother could not answer them to his satisfaction.

Mohandas was not particularly bright in studies, though he attended to the daily lessons diligently so that no one should have to say a harsh word to him. For the same reason he always reached the school punctually. After school, he would literally run back home. To quote him: 'I could not bear to talk to anybody, i was ... afraid lest anyone should poke fun at me.' This inferiority complex troubled him for long. But he had certain strong points too.

He was in his first year at the High School when a visiting Inspector of Schools gave his class five English words to write as a spelling test. One of the words was 'kettle' and Mohan had spelt it wrongly. The teacher prodded him hard to see the correct spelling from the neighbouring boy's slate, but it had no effect on Mohan. Except for him, all the boys had spelt each word correctly. Subsequently the teacher tried to point out how stupid Mohan had been, but the latter sat unmoved. This incident can be viewed as a faint sign of his later passion for truth and his sense of right and wrong.

Rather shy and quiet Mohan kept away from sports. He found himself in a sorry plight when the Headmaster made gymnastic exercises compulsory. His lack of interest in physical training apart, it ate away the time he needed in those days for attending on his father who was sick. The special exemption he sought was not granted . On Saturdays the boys were required to go to school a second time for the afternoon gymnastics period. On one such day Mohan reached the school too late and, was marked absent. On Monday morning the Headmaster questioned him about it and he replied 'I was nursing my father. I had no watch and the clouds deceived me. When I arrived all the boys had gone.' The Headmaster refused to believe him and said curtly: 'You are lying.' Mohan did not know how to prove his innocence. It was too much for him to be called a liar. He

BEGINNINGS

5

felt deeply hurt and cried in anguish. He had learnt his first important lesson; 'a man of truth must also be a man of care.'

His reading was confined to school-books until he came across one about Shravana's devotion to his parents. He read this book with great interest. About the same time, he saw with a party of travelling minstrels a picture depicting Shravana and his blind parents borne by him on his shoulders with the help of slings for taking them on a pilgrimage. He also heard from them an elegy reflecting the agonized parents' lament over Shravana's tragic death accidentally caused by a prince in hot pursuit of some game. AH this touched his heart with such intensity that the mythical Shravana became his ideal as far as his filial duties were concerned. He had another experience of similar nature when he saw a play about Raja Harishchandra whose life had bristled with sufferings endured by him for the sake of truth. He was so enraptured by the performance that he witnessed it several times. Why should not all be truthful like Harishchandra? This thought haunted him day and night. The fervour with which Mohandas had reacted to the ideals represented by these two legendary figures was another sign of moral consciousness in his early years.

Though brought up in a deeply religious atmosphere, Mohan was not immune to small aberrations commonly associated with adolescence. One minor temptation that came his way quite early was that of smoking. He and one of his cousins used to collect cigarette stubs, light them stealthily, have a few puffs and satisfy their curiosity. They also tried the stalks of a plant that could be burnt and smoked. Slowly they reached the stage of purchasing cigarettes for which they needed money. This led to stealing of coins from the servant's pocket-money. After some time their want of independence to smoke freely began to trouble them. So deep was their frustration that they tried to commit suicide by consuming the poisonous dhatura seeds which they were able to obtain from the jungle. They did swallow a few seeds, but at this point the fear of death seized them. The more disturbing thought was; what will happen if they did not instantly die. Soon they realised how senseless the very idea of suicide was.

Small, somewhat disproportionately built but pleasant-looking, avowedly timid, haunted by fear of ghosts, serpents and thieves, physically weak, thoughtful by nature, happy to go for long walks rather than play games, an average student but very regular, ever ready to render any kind of help needed by his mother: this is what Mohandas was as a young boy. With his moral scruples often pitched high, growing up for this dearly loved son of his parents was a complex process. To make it more difficult, he was tied in holy wedlock at the early age of thirteen. His eldest brother Lakshmidas was already married The middle one, Karsandas, Mohandas and one of their cousins were now led to a triple marriage ceremony, partly for the convenience of it and partly for thrift. Preparations for it had been going on for months. Mohan who had been engaged to his would-be wife for about five years knew what he was heading for. He had studied a few Gujarati booklets on married life.

6

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

The marriage was to take place at Porbandar. Karamchand's family, including Karsandas and Mohan, had moved to that place beforehand. But the Dewan himself could not leave Rajkot until the Thakore found it convenient to spare him. When at last he was able to leave for Porbandar he had to cover five days' cart journey in three days by stagecoach specially ordered for him by his royal master. As ill luck would have it, on the last lap of fhe journey the coach overturned and Karamchand sustained serious injuries. He arrived in Porbandar bruised and bandaged, but with his fortitude intact. The wedding lost much of its fun; it did, however, take place on the appointed day. Mohan's bride, Kasturba, nearly his own age, was the daughter of a businessman of Porbandar who lived not far away from the Gandhi family's ancestral house. As children, they had played together and probably quarrelled as well.

Full of ardour for his wife at this time, Mohan continually thought of her during school hours and anxiously waited for the moment when they would meet at nigt ,t. Sexual experience during the early years of maturation, while saving him from the usual pains of adolescence, had an unsettling effect as far as his studies were concerned. His inherent sense of duty, however, prevented him from neglecting his lessons too badly. Another saving grace was that, according to the prevailing custom, the young bride spent nearly half the time every year at her parents' place. Nevertheless, Mohan did for some time suffer a setback in his studies on account of marriage.

Mohandas was generally averse to making friends. Whatever companionship he required could be had within the large circle of cousins. After marriage he could do without friends altogether. Close fellowship, however, had arisen between him and two other boys including Sheikh Mehtab, son of the Rajkot police chief, who lived only a few yards away from Karamchand Gandhi's residence. For some time this lad had been very friendly with Karsandas too. Three years senior to Mohan, Mehtab was a different type of character. An extrovert, free and easy in manner, a good athlete, physically strong, fearless, he had everything that Mohan lacked. But he was not free from vices. The growing friendship between the two was initially based on the protection that the stoutly built Mehtab provided to the Chief Minister's frail and diffident son from bullies, who had a grouse against him for having let them down on many occasions in the name of truth. In course of time Mohandas became so addicted to this friendship that even after discovering Mehtab's faults, he was unable to give him up. When his mother and the eldest brother warned him that Mehtab was not a good boy, he asserted: 'I know he has the weaknesses you attribute to him, but you do not know his virtues. He cannot lead me astray: my association with him is meant to reform him. I am sure that if

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he can mend his ways, he will be a splendid man. I beg you not to be anxious on my account.’

Before Mohandas could do anything to uplift his friend, he himself began to be influenced by some of the ideas the latter continually imposed on him. One new thought that got into Mohan's mind at Mehtab's instance was the advantage of meat-eating from which, according to him, he derived his robust health and fearlessness. He had also argued that the English were able to rule over India because they were all meat-eaters. In fact this idea formed part of a wave of reform at that time sweeping through Kathiawar that had manifested itself as a drive against some of the taboos marking out Hindu society. Before long Mohan came round to the view that if he could take non-vegetarian food he would gain both physical strength and courage which he lacked so badly. And if this dietary, change took place on a country-wide scale, India could easily get rid of the British. Coming as he did from an orthodox Vaishnava family, Mohan could not have consumed meat openly. With Mehtab's help he secretly tried one meal comprising baker's bread and mutton but found it thoroughly unpalatable. The following night he was haunted by a frightful nightmare giving him the feeling of a live goat bleating inside his belly.

The two friends did not leave the matter at that. Mohan now looked upon meat-eating as a duty. Mehtab was prepared to do anything to have his freshman acquire the necessary taste. Now and then they would surreptitiously have a non-vegetarian meal at the state guest house. Gradually Mohan began to relish this food. He was not, however, able to get over the sense of guilt that assailed him every time he went for a special treat. On each occasion he felt as if he was committing a theft. Whenever he skipped his dinner at home on this account, he had to hoodwink his mother by telling her some lies as to why he did not feel like eating. This itself was painful. He was also constantly troubled by the thought that if his parents learnt that he had taken to meat-eating they would be deeply hurt. A stage was reached after some time when he could not withstand this mental torture any more. He felt relieved only when he firmly decided: no more of meat-eating until he had found the freedom to do it openly. This is how he had reasoned with himself: 'Though it is essential to eat meat, and also essential to take up food reform in the country, yet deceiving and lying to one's father and mother is worse than not eating meat. In their life-time, therefore, meat-eating must be out of the question. When they are no more and I have found my freedom, I will eat meat openly, but until that moment arrives I will abstain from it.' He made this known to Mehtab and stuck to it. Before he attained the kind of freedom he had in mind, he on his own

became a staunch believer in vegetarianism.

*

The whole episode might look innocuous even as a prelude to its principal actor's life-long experiments with vegetarian diet. But the manner in which he, for the time being, disengaged himself from the so-called food reform had its own significance. It proved beyond doubt that, when it came to the crunch, the teenaged Mohandas had the capacity to think for

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himself and resolutely put across even to the domineering Mehtab that he would like to be left free to go by his own time-frame. Equally significant was the seriousness with which the future Mahatma had at that stage viewed the necessity of taking to non-vegetarian food. This was one of the early signs of his intensity of perception which was to become an important element of his personality.

The evil genius, as Sheikh Mehtab has often been described, crossed all limits when it came to sowing seeds of conflict between Mohandas and Kasturba. It appears he piayed an active part in drawing his friend over to the idea that if he was to live happily with his wife, he should have good control over her. In pursuance of this thought, he started asserting that she must not go anywhere without his permission. Kasturba, a little stubborn by nature, was not prepared to submit herself to such restrictions. The consequent tension was bound to strain the silken cord that joined the two young souls. The devoted but jealous husband that Mohan was, he would have slowly found his bearings. But Mehtab, bent upon stirring up the devil in him, continued to fan the flame of suspicion in his mind about the conduct of his wife. Acting at his friend's behest, many a time Mohan meted out to Kasturbai the sort of treatment that was nothing short of loathsome. Mehtab further went on to lure his friend into at least one visit to a brothel. He had organized the whole thing meticulously. Mohan was simply to go and give himself over to pleasure. What happened there Is best described by him in his autobiography:

He sent me in with the necessary instructions. It was all prearranged. The bill had already been paid. I went into the jaws of sin, but God in his infinite mercy protected me against myself. I was almost struck blind and dumb in this den of vice. I sat near the woman on her bed, but I was tongue-tied. She naturally lost patience with me and showed me the door, with abuses and insults. I then felt as though my manhood had been injured, and wished to sink into the ground for shame.

It is not known whether Kasturbai was at this time at Rajkot or had gone to her parents. Even if the latter was the case, this was an intensely traumatic happening. It would not have been possible for the highly sensitive Mohandas to drain out or digest the inner confusion left behind by his act of betrayal, in psychological terms, it was not a good foundation for a happy married life.

Mehtab was misleading Mohandas in various ways and yet the latter failed to realise how right his family was in warning him that he was not in good company. To make things worse, his elder brother Karsandas was also a party to some of the escapades. At one stage, the latter had run into a debt of about twenty-five rupees. For its clearance, Mohan played a leading role in removing and selling a small bit of gold out of the armlet worn by Karsandas. After having done it, he found it difficult to be at

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peace with himself. The aim was to help his brother. Thus the end was quite noble, but not the means. He strongly felt that he had committed a serious wrong. So deep was his sense of self-reproach that the mere resolve never to steal again failed to put him at ease. At this moment his real character manifested itself. He wrote down on a piece of paper whatever had happened, pledging that he would never do such a thing in future, and at the same time asking for appropriate punishment. Trembling, he handed the paper to his father who was bed-ridden at that time, and sat there fully prepared for an angry blast. As the ailing patriarch got up and read through the confessional note, 'pearl drops trickled down' from his care-worn eyes. He looked lost in thought for a moment; then, without uttering a word, he tore up the paper and again lay flat on his bed. Mohan could see the old man's agony and was unable to hold back his own tears. He had never thought his father could be so forgiving. If this early display of conscience on the part of his fifteen-year-old son left Karamchand deeply moved, the unexpectedly powerful effect produced by an honest confession on the father would have impelled the young boy to reflect on all that he might do if he could go about the business of life rightly.*

After this incident, Mohandas became more serious about his studies. His father's illness, however, continued to get worse, causing great anxiety to the entire family. Mohan spent a good deal of his time attending on him. He would go out for an evening stroll whenever possible. He had plenty to think of during these solitary walks. Kasturbai was in the family way. The sixteen year old school boy was soon going to be a father. His own father’s failing health must have been a fearful threat to the sense of security so badly needed by him.

As autumn approached there was not much hope left for Karamchand to survive. Mohan's unde was then in Rajkot. He would remain with his brother the whole day and have his cot by his side at night. One evening. Mohan gave his father a massage till late evening. On being relieved by his uncle, he retired to his bedroom. The fact that his father was at death's door could not at that moment shut out the longing for sex. Finding his wife fast asleep, he woke her up to satiate his desire. Within a few minutes there was a knock at the door by the servant who informed him that his father had passed away. There could be nothing more tragic for Mohan. What preyed on his mind ever after that fateful night was the thought that because of lust he had lost the privilege of remaining by his father's side at the last moment. It produced in him a deep sense of guilt about sex, a blot which he had ’never been able to efface or forget.' ** The

* While stressing the great significance of this incident, Erik H. Erikson has remarked that Mohandas's awareness of ’his power to induce in his father an extraordinary state of mind' by his clean confession had a part to play in the development of his premature conscience and a sense of 'superior destiny’. Ref. Gandhi's Truth (London. 1970), pp. 123-5

** To this incident, again, Erik H. Erikson attaches great significance. Following Kierkegaard, he calls this particular experience of Mohandas 'the curse’ common 'in the lives of spiritual innovators with a similarly precocious and relentless conscience.’ Ref. Gandhi's Truth (London, 1970), p. 128.

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trauma he suffered at this time left him intensely distrustful about his emotions. A few weeks later his wife delivered their first child who lived for barely four days. Even this he always recalled with shame rather than sorrow.

Karamchand's death left his wife and other dependents in great difficulty. The pension he had received from the Rajkot ruler was no more there. The family had very little property and hardly any cash to fall back upon. The Gandhis' social standing was such that they had to keep up appearances.

Mohan's performance at the school had again back-tracked. Gradually he managed to recover the ground lost by him. From January to December 1 887 he got a scholarship of Rs.10 per month, though it was not related to any special merit in studies. After clearing his matriculation examination, he went to Bhavnagar for further education instead of Bombay where the University course would have cost much more. The institution he joined was quite good but because of his weak grounding in English it was difficult for him to cope with the college curriculum. At the annual prize distribution of the school from which he had matriculated, however, his name was specially mentioned by the Headmaster. Even Col. Watson who presided over this function, after referring to the services rendered by Karamchand Gandhi to Porbandar and Rajkot states, had remarked: 'I hope that Mr. Mohandas will do credit to this institution, to his father, and to the province.' With such goodwill around, Mohandas could not have been free from the hangover of belonging to a distinguished family and the overpowering wish to prove himself worthy of his lineage. For fulfilment of this desire he could have thought of no better means than going to England for further education.

After his first term in college when he went back home for summer vacation, Mavji Joshi — a learned Brahmin and an old friend of the Gandhi family— happened to visit Rajkot. Talking to Lakshmidas and Mohan, he enquired how the latter was doing. On being told that he had joined the college at Bhavnagar and that he was not satisfied with his progress, Mavji expressed serious doubt as to the usefulness of taking a Bachelor of Arts degree even if he were to go in for the law course after that. He was of the view that, if they all wanted the boy to be a Dewan one day, he should go to England where he could become a barrister in three years. For one thing, this idea harmonised with the kind of career that Karamchand would have visualized for his youngest son. To Mohandas, who was weary unto death of what he had experienced at Bhavnagar, this proposal was like made from heaven. His 'secret design' of gaining an experience of life in distant London now looked more than a passing dream. Anyhow, he expressed his preference for a medical course there rather than law. This alternative was also discussed: it found favour neither with Lakshmidas nor Mavji. The latter urged upon the family before his departure that his suggestion should not be taken lightly.

One person who did not welcome the idea was Putalibai. She had heard so much about the unrestrained life led by youngmen going to England for

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higher education. With great difficulty Mohan obtained her assent after taking a pledge before the priest that he would not 'touch wine, woman and meat.' Kasturbai, who was at that time nursing the newborn Harilal, as also her parents, did not feel happy about Mohan going away for three years. It was not easy for him to convince them that a law degree from London was worth all this sacrifice. Lakshmidas, too, was wavering, though his foremost concern was how to bear the expense involved. He asked Mohan to take a trip to Porbandar and see if through the good offices of their uncle, who was still the Chief Minister of that state, they could get some government help. Mohan was no more his old passive self. He ran up and down to explore all possibilities of securing financial assistance byway of grantor loan, but all to no avail. It was then that Lakshmidas took on his own shoulders the responsibility of finding the money somehow.

Mohan was, none the less, under severe emotional stress. Inside him there was a constant battle going on between a blazing ambition and a deep seated sense of inadequacy. When his mind was not busy day-dreaming with regard to the type of life he would have in London, he was assailed by vague apprehensions about living away from home for a long time, to make things worse, he was also having some differences with his friend Sheikh Mehtab. The confused state of his mind showed up in excessive brooding, low spirits, absent-mindedness, strange mishaps, giddiness and even fainting on one occasion. At the farewell function held in the Kathiawar High School at Rajkot on the eve of his departure, he could with great difficulty drawl over the short written speech he had carried with him.

His brother Lakshmidas and Sheikh Mehtab were amongst those who accompanied him to Bombay. There he had to wait for some time before sailing off. His brother, therefore, returned to Rajkot. During this period Mohan found himself confronted with some members of his caste, determined to stop him from going abroad. But no obstacle could now prevent him from embarking on the great adventure that had taken possession of his mind. The same teenager, who before leaving Rajkot was feeling so unnerved, dauntlessly defended his plan for further studies in England. He sat unmoved when the headman of the community decreed that if he did not desist he would be treated as an outcast and that anyone helping him would also be punished. The excommunication order did create a problem in so far as the relative with whom Lakshmidas had kept the funds for his passage refused to part with the amount for fear of getting penalized. Mohan managed to get over this difficulty by borrowing the money from another person outside the caste. The next step was to make all the necessary purchases including the requisite western clothing.

In early September, Mohandas was already on board the S. S. Clyde, sharing a cabin with Tryambakrai Mazmudar, a lawyer from Junagarh, who was also proceeding to London. For Mohan the sea voyage was a novel experience. Quiet and reserved, he kept himself away from the fellow- passengers because of his difficulty in speaking and understanding

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English. Not knowing howto use knives and forks, he even avoided going to the dining-room for his meals, and mostly sustained himself on the snacks he had carried with him in plenty. Thanks to Mazmudar, used to the western style of life, Mohan slowly started feeling more at ease. The two of them and another person, Abdul Majid, normally went out together at the stopovers en route. They had many things of interest to see at Aden, Port Said, Brindisi, Malta and Gibraltar. Late at night on October 26, the ship reached Plymouth and the afternoon of October 28 saw them in London where they immediately moved to Victoria Hotel.

Before disembarkation Mohandas had donned a white flannel suit. When he actually landed he found it pretty cold. He was the only person dressed in clothes meant for summer wear. He felt odd, but was helpless as the rest of his kit had not yet been delivered to him. Within a few hours of his arrival in the hotel Dr. Pranjivan Mehta* called in and finding him clad in flannels could not but fee! amused. While they were engaged in conversation, Mohan cursorily picked up Dr. Mehta's top-hat and, trying to appraise its smoothness, disturbed the fur. The doctor gently admonished him and delivered a small lecture on the basics of European etiquette. He stayed for some time with one of Dr. Mehta's friends in Richmond. After this initiation he got accommodated as a lodger with an Anglo-Indian widow.

Mohandas had no difficulty in obtaining admission to the Inner Temple and getting on with his studies for the Law Course. What put him out was the effort required on his part to adapt himself to the completely new environment he was suddenly thrown into. His irrevocable pledge to live on vegetarian diet made things harder. Whatever dishes he couid eat were insipid and savourless. Feeling desperately homesick and lonely, he did not understand how he would pass three long years in England. But there was no getting away from it. Almost everyone he came across argued that if he did not take to meat-eating he would ruin his health. Listening to their arguments he often felt nervous but he was bound by the vow he had taken before leaving India. He, therefore, prayed to God to give him the strength to keep his word.

As time passed, Mohan gained some confidence. Encouraged by his landlady, he went around in search of a vegetarian restaurant. The day he found one in Farrigdon Street he was simply flushed with joy. He had his first satisfying meal since his arrival in London. He procured a copy of Salt’s book on vegetarianism and read it with deep interest. Following it he purchased some more books on the subject. The more he read such literature the more convinced he was that God had intended human beings to live on vegetarian food and that non-vegetarian diet was morally degrading. Thus he freed himself from his belief regarding the usefulness

Dr. Pranjivan Mehta, also from Kathiawar, was in England for higher studies in medicine.

Mohandas had taken with him four letters of introduction, one of them addressed to Dr.

Mehta. He had telegraphically informed him of his arrival on reaching Southampton.

TNs was to be the beginning of a life-long relationship between them. Pyarelal, Mahatma

Gandhi - The Early Phase (Ahrnedabad. 1965), pp. 229-30.

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of non-vegetarian food which he had nursed so iong under Sheikh Mehtab's influence. Now for the first time he was glad that he had vowed to keep away from meat. Henceforth he was a vegetarian by choice.

His outright conversion to vegetarianism left him genuinely happy, but some of his associates looked at it as a sign of eccentricity. In order to remove this impression he went out of his way to conduct himself like a polished English gentleman. He got himself new clothes at the Army and Navy Stores, discarding those he had brought with him from Bombay. He also bought a costly evening suit and obtained from India a double watch- chain of gold. Instead of wearing a ready-made necktie, he learnt the art of tying one for himself. He did not mind any amount of effort to keep his unruly hair nicely parted. All this was meant to have him look elegant. That was not enough. He had known what other accomplishments were necessary. The first step was to take lessons in dancing. Soon he found that in order to dance well he must have a good ear for western music. So he purchased a violin and put himself under a music teacher. To refine his manner of speaking English, he sought another expert to give him training in elocution.

His quest of social graces, characteristic of fashionable life in London, did not last too long. He just did not have the wherewithal to cope with expensive living. Prudent by nature, he soon realised that he had little to gain from it. It is only after he had rid himself of this craze, except his love for good clothes, that he became a serious student. The work he was required to put in for the Bar examinations was not much. He, therefore, took up in addition the challenge of passing the London Matriculation. Other subjects apart, it involved a good deal of effort to acquire proficiency in Latin. He could clear this particular paper only in his second attempt.

From the very beginning of his three-year stay in England, Mohandas had been in the habit of keeping careful account of whatever he spent on his studentship, boarding, lodging and sundries. The practice naturally made him more attentive to the need of reducing the financial burden on his brother. Finding that living with a family involved various kinds of expenditure besides the regular weekly payment, he decided to take his own lodging within walking distance from his place of work. Initially he rented a two-room apartment. Stili not content with the economy he had effected, he shifted to a single room suite and purchased a stove to be able to cook some of his meals at home. In this way he reduced his daily expense to about a shilling and a quarter. These changes, quite in keeping with his limited means, instead of making his life dreary, brought him real joy.

A similar happiness was experienced by him when he succeeded in curing one serious 'canker of untruth' which he shared with many other

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Indian students in England who went there for studies after early marriage, very common in India at that time. Most of these Indian youths pretended to be bachelors so that they could conveniently indulge in flirtation with young girls. To attract their attention, they would dress up nicely and strut about like peacocks. Mohandas also was not immune to this weakness. Sachchidanand Sinha had on one occasion met him in Piccadilly Circus. His recollection after six decades reflects to some extent what England had done to young Mohandas so far as his sartorial preferences were concerned:

He was wearing a high silk top hat burnished bright, a Gladstonian collar, stiff and starched; a rather flashy tie displaying almost all the colours of the rainbow under which there was a fine striped silk shirt.

He wore as his outer clothes a morning coat, a double-breasted vest, and dark striped trousers to match and not only patent leather boots but spats over them.

In Mohan's case his pompousness in the matter of dress was largely a defence against the view held by his friends that he was too much of an oddball. In any case, he had a voice of conscience which came to his help when he needed it most. During his visit to Brighton in his first year in England, he had come in contact with an old widow who felt impressed by his gentle manner. This casual acquaintance developed into a genuine regard on that lady's part. She gave Mohandas her London address and extended to him a standing invitation for dinner at her house every Sunday. The latter did not hesitate to frequently avail himself of the hospitality. Many a time the woman would get some female aiso for dinner and introduce her to Mohandas to help him overcome his shyness. After some time she began to encourage closeness between him and a young girl living with her. He has himself described the situation he was faced with:

I found all this very trying at first. I could not start a conversation nor could I indulge in any jokes. But she put me in the way. I began to learn; and in course of time looked forward to every Sunday and came to like the conversations with the young friend. The old lady went on spreading her net wider every day. She felt interested in our meetings. Possibly she had her own plans about us.

When things had reached thus far, Mohan's conscience rebelled. He now realised that it was wrong on his part not to have disclosed that he was married. He immediately made amends for it by writing an apologetic letter to the kind lady making a clean breast of his default. She took the entire happening sportingly and did not allow it to dilute her affection for Mohandas. He on his part was deeply relieved, feeling thankful to God for having shown him the right path before it was too late. This incident was as important as what had happened at Rajkot when he confessed a moral

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lapse to his ailing father. On both occasions he fought shame and guilt by drawing upon his own inner resources. He may not have vanquished the demons altogether; he had certainly had the better of them. This was possible because of his remarkable capacity for introspection when he was faced with a dilemma.

His growing moral consciousness was strengthened by a new draught he received as a result of his friendship with a couple of theosophists. With them he read Sir Edwin Arnold's The Song Celestial. This was his first exposure to the Bhagavad Gita. He was much impressed by Sir Edwin's rendering of the holy book which was to be for him an unfailing guide in his moments of gloom. Even at this initial acquaintance with the Gita, instead of looking at the warfare depicted in the Mahabharata as an historical occurrence he viewed it as a portrayal of the duel between good and evil that perpetually goes on in the human mind. About the same time he also read Arnold's The Light of Asia which left an equally deep impression on his mind. These readings came as an antidote to the agnostic line he had pursued for some time.

Mrs. Annie Besant after forswearing her atheistic creed had just joined the Theosophical Society. Mohandas felt happy when he was introduced to this illustrious lady. Though his friends wanted him to, he did not have himself enrolled as a member of the Society. What remains important was the stimulation of a more enlivened interest on his part in matters beyond the day-to-day earthly existence promoted by these contacts. As suggested to him by a Christian friend, he began reading the Bible too. The New Testament gained an immediate hold on him and the Sermon on the Mount went straight to his heart. Reminiscing about these days, he wrote in his autobiography: 'My young mind tried to unify the teaching of the Gita , the Light of Asia and the Sern >on on the Mount. That renunciation was the highest form of religion appealed to me greatly.'

This new change in Mohandas and his whole-hearted conversion to vegetarianism were closely related. The more he turned to religion, the greater was the vigour with which he studied the problem of food a decent human being should eat to maintain himself. The latter interest brought him in contact with some eminent persons who were leading the movement against the consumption of animal foods in England. He himself started a vegetarian club in Bayswater where he lived at that time, with Dr. Josiah Oldfield, the Editor of The Vegetarian, as President and Sir Edwin Arnold as Vice President, taking the Secretary's responsibility on his own shoulders. Although the club fell to pieces after a few months when Mohandas left that locality, this was his first experience of organising a public body.

As an active member of the London Vegetarian Society, he was elected to its executive committee. The organization had its own internal politics. Mohandas also played some part in it. He liked to support those who were right rather than get swayed by extraneous factors. Even while attending the meetings regularly, he would generally remain quiet. Now and then he

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felt like saying something at a committee meeting, but he was just not able to gather his thoughts and articulate his viewpoint. On certain occasions he carried with him written notes which too he found difficult to make good use of. He constantly felt oppressed by strong doubts about his general ability. Despite the stifling effect of this inhibition, he benefited in many ways from his participation in the Vegetarian Society's activities, it was one of the first important steps towards finding his identity. He contributed a series of articles to its journal, most of them dealing with the customs and food habits of the Indian people. This was his maiden exercise in journalistic writing. The written word was to be his principal medium of self-expression in later life.

A Vegetarian Conference at Portsmouth some time in 1890 landed him in a situation that put his moral firmness to another practical test. This sea-port was known for its houses of ill fame. It was in one such house that Mohandas and a friend of his were put up by the reception committee who could not have known of its reputation. On the opening day of the conference, the friends spent their evening playing bridge in which the landlady had also joined. Innocent jokes are a part of the game but soon an element of indecency crept in. Mohandas too had got into a wanton mood. Just as he was about to cross the limits of propriety his friend, who himself was no saint, warned him: 'Whence this devil in you, my boy? Be off, quick!' Mohandas felt ashamed and thought of the pledge he had given to his mother. He left the game and rushed to his room 'quaking, trembling, and with beating heart, like a quarry escaped from its pursuer.' This was the first time that a woman other than his wife had aroused in him carnal desire. The very next morning he left Portsmouth without waiting for the conference to conclude.

His short visit to Paris about this time was, however, sans reproche. Keeping away from the fun and frivolities the place was known for, he sedately saw the Great Exhibition, went up the Eiffel Tower and grudgingly had an expensive lunch in the restaurant on its first platform. He did much of his sight-seeing on foot and quenched his thirst for the sublime by spending hours in the old cathedrals. The Notre Dame was simply enchanting.

***

The Anjuman Islamia, a small body established in London, provided a good platform to the Indian residents, particularly students, for debating political and other issues of common interest. Many of the persons who participated in these discussions were later to play an active role in India's public life. Mohandas too attended the meetings, but he generally remained quiet. Although he had got into the habit of reading newspapers regularly, he hardly felt concerned with the changes that were taking place in England and elsewhere in Europe. Karl Marx, Darwin or Huxley did not mean much to him. On the other hand, when he met the simple, unkempt,

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bearded poet from Gujarat, Narayan Hemchandra, determined to go around the world and translate into his native Gujarati the best of poetry in other languages, he felt immediately drawn to him. Soon they were good friends. Both of them vegetarians, they often took their meals together, each one cooking whatever he could. Hemchandra was just not bothered about his clothing, moved about with perfect ease and in every field followed the path of his own choosing. His way of life seems to have left a mark on Mohandas, though it remained inconspicuous for many years.

When his time in England was coming to a close, he began to be troubled by a serious doubt as to whether he would be successful in the profession for which he was preparing himself. He had an idea of the kind of work that a lawyer was required to do but did not feel confident that he would be in a position to cope with it. When he came to England he had brought a letter of introduction to Dadabhai Naoroji* also. He had met him on one occasion, but did not have the heart to go to him again to seek his advice on the problem that was bothering him. He somehow picked up the courage to consult Mr. Frederick Pincutt who had been acting as a guide to most Indian students. He not only advised him how to equip himself for his professional life, but also tried to brush off some of his pessimism.

After he had passed all his examinations, he was called to the bar on June 1 0, 1 891 . Two days later he sailed for India. On landing at Bombay he was received by his eldest brother. Apart from other things, he enquired about his mother. He was not prepared for the shock he received when Lakshmidas, with his eyes cast down and moist with much-restrained tears, disclosed that she had passed away before his departure from England. This fact had been purposely withheld from him so that he should be able to get back home in peace.

They did not immediately leave for Rajkot. Mohandas was taken to the residence of Dr. Mehta who had insisted that he stay with him. Thus the acquaintance made in England was gradually ripening into a close friendship. It was at this time that Mohandas met Rajchandra whom he called Raychandbhai or Kavi, the son-in-law of Dr. Mehta's elder brother. Engaged in the business of jewellery, he was undeniably a man of God, well-versed in Hindu scriptures. He was also fond of writing poetry. What fascinated Mohandas straightaway was his prodigious memory. At the moment he little knew that the person he had met was going to be his spiritual guide in the years to come.

He had also to take care of the order of excommunication from his caste which had been passed when he left for England. As advised by his brother, he undertook a pilgrimage to Nasik to atone for the transgression by a holy dip in the Godavari as part of the purificatory rites. It was

* Described as the Grand Old Man of India, he was one of the moving spirits behind the Indian National Congress established in 1885. He had laboured for long to create organized public life in India. He was at this time in England struggling against all odds to vindicate the right he had diligently earned to stand as a Liberal (Radical) candidate for election to the House of Commons from Central Finsbury.

18

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

followed by a ceremonial dinner to his elders at Rajkot. Some of his detractors were still not reconciled. Instead of bearing any grudge against them, Mohandas quietly accepted the restraints imposed on him, feeling confident that the iron heel would slowly wear off.

For all members of the family, Mohan's home-coming was a very special occasion. The expensive face-lift the house had undergone and the new furniture as well as crockery brought in were a visible expression of the gusto with which Lakshmidas had welcomed his brother. The latter, however, did not like the extravagance he noticed, but on his own part he did not hesitate to set in motion various changes in the life-style of the entire household. In this matter he had acted like a typical young Indian, fresh from England.

After a brief respite, Mohandas moved back to Bombay and set up an office there to start his law practice. The fact that his brother, who had spent so much on his foreign education, expected him to quickly turn into a money- spinner, was all the time weighing on his mind. When it came to brass tacks, he could readily see that his earlier misgivings were not baseless. This was one profession in which a beginner was always handicapped. In his case, the difficulties were far more serious. To acquire a working knowledge of Indian law itself was an arduous task. His conscience was another formidable obstacle. He could not reconcile himself to obtaining briefs through agents on payment of commission. When he did get his first brief and stood up to cross-examine the witnesses, he lost his nerve: in consequence he had to withdraw and ask a colleague to take over the case. His confidence was badly shaken. Who would ever like to entrust legal work to such a lawyer? Even otherwise, the competition in Bombay was too hard. At times he thought of going to some other country to earn his living. He also toyed with the idea of undertaking journalistic work, but nothing came out of it. In desperation, he even tried to take a part-time teacher's job, which he was unable to secure as he did not have an Indian University degree.

He was still trying to recover from the trauma he had suffered on account of his mother's death. Outwardly he went about as if nothing had happened. But deep inside, the wound was too grave for quick healing. A great pillar of emotional strength, Putalibai had been the hub of his inner universe, the pole-star that had guided his footsteps in his early years. His overweighing grief, the disappointments he had met with in his search for a livelihood, all plunged him into dark despair which it was not easy to come out of. The silver lining to these clouds was the friendliness that had grown between him and Rajchandra, an earnest seeker after Truth. The state of equipoise that the latter had attained encouraged Mohandas to look at his own problems with some degree of philosophic detachment.

CALL OF THE UNKNOWN

Having failed in Bombay, Mohandas in consultation with his brother went back to Rajkot. His hands were empty and heart bereft of hope. The perplexities of life in the mofussil were foreseeable and he tried to meet them as best as he could. It did not, however, take him long to discover his aptitude for drafting applications and petitions. With Lakshmidas's help he was able to get enough work of this type. It could not have been very satisfying to the young barrister, but he had to make a living somehow. It brought him about Rs.300 a month which in those times was a good income for a lawyer to start with. He would have gradually settled down, but for an unfortunate incident that threw his life completely out of gear.

His elder brother, a small-time pleader, had been an adviser to the ruler of Porbandar before the Government of India, taking cognizance of mal¬ administration in the chieftaincy, snatched most of his powers and placed his tiny state under an administrator. Apart from other things, the Rana was alleged to have removed some jewels from the state treasury. It was presumed that all this had been done at Lakshmidas's prompting. His name was under a cloud on that account. How he stood in the estimation of the Political Agent at Rajkot (Charles Ollivant) was of great importance to him. Mohandas had casually met this person in England and had found him quite friendly. Lakshmidas persuaded his younger brother to meet him and intercede on his behalf. Much against his will, Mohandas sought an appointment and went across to the officer. At first the Englishman was polite. The moment he learnt the purpose behind this visit, he became cold and stiff. Firm in his belief that Lakshmidas was an intriguer, he refused to listen to Mohandas. When the latter persisted in having his say, the officer lost temper and asked his peon to show him the door. He was literally pushed out of the chamber. Furious at this insult, Mohandas seriously considered filing a suit against the officer. No less a person than Sir Pherozeshah Mehta* was consulted. He wanted the young man to cool off: such things, according to him, were part of life in India. While accepting this counsel, Mohandas made up his mind that in future he would never try to take advantage of a private contact and expose himself to embarrassment.

* A leading public figure of Bombay Presidency, he had a prominent role in the setting up of the Indian National Congress. The very qualities which put him in the vanguard of Indian political life had also brought him into limelight in the legal profession.

20

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

This incident, however, left him bitter. He was constantly tormented by the thought that practice of law in Rajkot would mean either submission to arrogant behaviour on the part of those in authority or outright collision with them sooner or later. It was also clear that, under the existing circumstances, despite his education in England he could not look forward to a political appointment comparable to that of his father. This was not the only thing to put him out. Even at home everything was not to his liking. His relations with Kasturba were anything but pleasant. He was feeling thoroughly depressed, when he got an offer of a brief assignment overseas. Abdul Karim Jhaveri, a partner of Abdulla and Company, a flourishing business firm in South Africa involved in a complicated court case there, wrote from Porbandar to Lakshmidas requesting for his younger brother's services. He was to go to South Africa and assist the lawyers engaged by the company. The job was to last for a year, for which the firm undertook to pay a sum of £1 05 and provide a free first-class passage both ways with an assurance that for the entire period he would be looked after as a guest. All things considered, the terms offered were far from attractive. Mohandas also sensed that it was not an attorney’s work that he would be going for. He was, however, so fed up with his lot then that he could not resist the temptation to take the uninspiring job that had come his way. For one thing, it provided an escape from the hell at Rajkot: it also could open an avenue for trying his luck in another country. With no expenditure to be incurred on his maintenance, he thought, he would be able to remit to his brother the amount he received from his employers.

He was ready to leave for South Africa in April 1893, less than two years after his return from London. His wife could not have liked it despite the continuing tension between them. Momentarily Mohandas himself felt the wrench of parting. All in all, his distress on this occasion was nothing as compared to what he had experienced at the time he left for England in 1 888. In these five years he had matured a great deal.

***

On arrival at Bombay, Mohandas found that the agent of Dada Abdulla and Company had not been able to secure for him a first-class passage on the steamship he was to board. The Governor-General of Mozambique, accompanied by his entourage, was to travel by the same boat s.s. Safari , scheduled to sail for Zanzibar on April 1 9, 1 893. All first-class berths were, therefore, booked. Conscious of his status as a barrister, Mohandas did not like the idea of going as a deck-passenger. He went to the captain and requested him to find some means to squeeze him in. The officer was good enough to allot him the extra berth in his own cabin. Soon the two of them got pretty friendly with each other. They spent a good part of their time playing chess. Gandhi did not know the game. The captain, himself not a good player, explained to him how the different moves were made. That proved to be a good pastime.

CALL OF THE UNKNOWN

21

At Lamur, the first port of call, the halt was very brief. Nevertheless Gandhi went out to see the place. Finding a few Indians at work in the Post Office, he talked to them for a while. He also saw some Africans and tried to get a feel of the way they lived. All this took some time and he got a little late. When the boat he had taken approached the ship, it was unable to contact the embarkation ladder due to a strong current. The first whistle had already gone. The captain was a witness to what was happening. He detained the steamer for an extra five minutes. In the meantime, the ladder had been raised. The captain had to arrange for Gandhi to be drawn up with the help of a rope. The incident was for him an unforgettable lesson in punctuality.

The captain had developed a great liking for Gandhi. It is doubtful if he really understood him. At Zanzibar, he took him along with another friend for an outing. Initially Gandhi had no idea what plan the captain had for this jaunt. As was intended by him, the guide took them to a whorehouse. Each of them was shown into a room. Gandhi 'simply stood there dumb with shame.' The poor woman must have been puzzled by his weird manner. When the captain after some time called him, he came out as he had gone in. Gandhi was thankful to God that he had not debased himself. But he also felt ashamed and pitied himself for his lack of courage to refuse a visit to such quarters. This was in his life not the first occasion of its kind. He could not but look at the happening with a sense of horror.

The passengers for Mozambique and Durban were to be transferred to another ship and they had to be in the port for about a week. Gandhi found it convenient to take a lodging in the town. Thus, he was able to see a good deal of the place. One thing he could not resist was a visit to the law court. There he watched the proceedings of a case in progress. The witness under examination was being questioned by a Farsi lawyer about debit and credit entries in a ledger. The court scene was of considerable interest to Gandhi who was to be involved with a similar case on arrival in South Africa. Knowing nothing about the subject, he felt bewildered. It required some effort on his part to compose himself.

***

During the voyage Gandhi had plenty of time to reflect. All the remembrances and yearnings that filled his heart at this time are not on record anywhere. But one can imagine his unmellowed mind crowded with memories, old and recent. He vividly remembered many incidents of his school days and every detail of his marriage to Kasturba. He could recollect the deep sense of devotion to his parents as intensely as the inability to resist his desire for sex even while his father was on the death bed. The whole drama preceding his departure for England in 1 888 was also fresh in his mind. What a torment it had been to part with his mother! Physically no more, she had left an unfading imprint on his psyche.

22

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

The recollections of his studentship in London and self-searching in those years remained a vital part of his consciousness. The spirit in which he had ultimately come to practise vegetarianism harmonized with other traits of character manifested by him early in life. Truth had already taken an important place in his system of values.

Deep in his mind, he was anxious to reach some corner of the world where he could achieve success and wipe off the scars left by his failure as a lawyer in India. He also had a strong desire to recompense his family for the burden it had borne to finance his education in England. He knew that Lakshmidas had his own expectations about the wealth and prestige that his younger brother could earn for all of them.

With lingering nostalgia, Gandhi thought of his wife and the two little children he had left behind at Rajkot. The continuing double-think that marked his relationship with Kasturba did have an element of remorse about the manner in which he had on occasions made her miserable. One of the difficulties that came in the way of adjustment between them arose out of the fact that Kasturba was a completely different person as compared to his late mother whose approach to life had shaped Gandhi's view of an ideal woman. Kasturba did not have the qualities that distinguished Putalibai. More than that, she was not prepared to change. Thanks to his own foreign education, he was anxious to educate her too fast. In this process he had been intolerant many a time. The disheartening view of things past was mingled with quite another picture of domestic bliss, that should be within his grasp, if he could establish himself as a successful lawyer in the country he was going to. The doleful memories were thus dissolving into dreams for the future.

Across the flood of these and many other thoughts Gandhi could not have seen the future that lay before him. The laws of life have their own mystique. The human spirit, it appears, has a strange power ingrained within itself that drives it in the direction of its natural destiny. What matters more than anything else is the emergence of appropriate ideals which are like stars guiding the seafaring man on a vast sea. In Gandhi's case all this was to take place in South Africa, where he was to reach in a few days.

After calling at Mozambique, the steamship in which Gandhi had sailed from Zanzibar reached Durban on May 23,1893. He felt enchanted by the superb view of the vast harbour area, with undulating hillocks, green with forest and foliage, in the background. It was the best time of the year to be in this part of Africa. The weather was lovely. It took Gandhi no time to discover that as far as non-whites were concerned the social climate for them was far from pleasant. The manner in which the port officials dealt with the Indian workers and even passengers made it clear that the coloured man should not look for equality in this land.

CALL OF THE UNKNOWN

23

Dada Abdulla Sheth, Gandhi's employer, was there to receive him. Though virtually uneducated, the talented Sheth was shrewd and sharp. The moment he saw Gandhi, immaculately dressed in an ostentatious frock- coat, he at once suspected that Abdul Karim had sent him a 'white elephant'. Time alone was to tell, what kind of person had come to work for him. Gandhi on his own part had not failed to notice how the merchant prince loved to be surrounded by numerous functionaries obsequiously fawning on him. So, the first impression on either side was not too happy. Before putting Gandhi on to his work, Dada Abdulla wanted to size him up. It so happened that the Sheth, a devout Muslim, was deeply interested in the teachings of the Holy Koran. Gandhi himself had as much interest in other religions as in his own. He listened to his employer's enunciations about Islam with rapt attention and put across his own ideas sagaciously. The exchange of views on religious matters between the two persons brought them close to each other.

The case for which Gandhi had been commissioned was going on in Pretoria, the Transvaal capital. He had some time in Durban to acquaint himself with the affairs. A couple of days after his arrival, along with Abdulla Sheth, he went to the local court where he was introduced to various people. He occupied one of the vacant chairs to watch the proceedings. The magistrate looked at him with some curiosity and, struck by the turban on his head, abruptly asked him to take it off. There were some other Indians present with their headgear on. Taken by surprise on hearing the magistrate's order, Gandhi looked at him astringently for a moment, apologized in a sarcastic tone and walked out of the court.

He pondered over this new threat to his sense of dignity. He first tried to understand the basis on which the magistrate had taken objection to his head-dress. A large number of Indians had been brought to Natal as indentured labourers, mostly to work at the plantations owned by European colonists. Numerous Indian traders had also come and engaged themselves in business. Afew of them were able to do exceedingly well. In course of time they got Parsi and other educated Indians to work as clerks and shop assistants. Employment of this nature to a limited extent was also availed of by the more pushing among the wards of indentured labourers who, on expiry of their agreement period, had settled in the Colony as free persons. Many among them had embraced Christianity and were employed on a variety of jobs. Some of them worked as waiters in the hotels. Afew thousand Indians had crossed over to the T ransvaal and the Cape: those who went over to the Orange Free State did not number more than a few hundred.

The Europeans made little distinction between the different groups among Indians, no matter what their vocation or social status was. In their eyes, they were all coolies, also called samis*. Both the terms smacked of

* Ironically, this term, based on the popular Tamil names with this ending, was derived from the Sanskrit word Swami (meaning Master).

24

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

contempt. In order to feel a little more respectable, the Gujarati traders liked to pass off as Arabs: the way they dressed helped them in this pretence. Parsis, having a distinctive dress of their own, described themselves as Persians.

Dada Abdulla explained to Gandhi that a person attired in what looked like Muslim dress might keep his turban on, but the other Indians on entering a court were expected to remove it. With this custom in vogue, Gandhi felt that wearing a turban would necessarily involve taking it off. To escape this insult, he thought, it would be prudent to put on an English hat. Dada Abdulla did not like the idea and said: The Indian turban sits well on your head. If you wear an English hat, the people might take you for a waiter.' His other argument was that it would discourage those who had so far persisted in wearing the Indian dress. Gandhi did not appreciate the Sheth's remark that it would be awful to look like a waiter. However, impressed by the latter part of his reasoning, Gandhi decided not to give up the use of turban. The matter, however, was discussed at length in the newspapers. The debate on the issue included the voice of those who had viewed it coolly. There were others who vehemently criticized the 'unwelcome visitor' for his audacity. Gandhi himself wrote to the editor of the Natal Advertiser because this paper had been particularly hostile in reporting the incident in question. While putting up his defence in favour of wearing a turban in the court, he made it clear that he meant no discourtesy to the magistrate. In this letter he had taken good care to see that the dust raised as a result of the occurrence should not make things difficult for him in case he found it expedient to set up law practice in Durban at a later stage. Strangely, a day after this letter was published, the more amicable Natal Mercury carried an interesting story: 'We hear there is quite a flutter of excitement amongst the legal fraternity... The innocent cause is the rumour that an Indian gentleman, holding an English barrister's diploma, is about to fix his tent in our midst and try his luck.'

As a consequence of the turban incident, Gandhi was a known person within a few days of his arrival in Durban. At the personal level also, he had come in contact with several important Indians including Parsi Rustomji and Adamji Miyakhan who later became his political associates. Among the local Indian Christians too, he picked up acquaintance with a few persons including Subhan Godfrey. Gandhi had a warm and disarming simplicity which won him many friends wherever he went.

He had been in Durban only for a few days when Abdulla Sheth received a communication from the firm's lawyer at Pretoria requesting him to come over there or send a representative to help him prepare the case. He asked Gandhi if he could now go to Pretoria. The latter undertook to do it after he had thoroughly studied the case. He made a concerted effort to understand all the ins and outs of the lawsuit with the help of clerks. As the entire case revolved around accounts, a subject with which he was unfamiliar, he went deep into the maze of tallies and computations. To be very clear, he even studied a manual on book-keeping.

CALL OF THE UNKNOWN

25

Having done his homework, Gandhi was ready to go: so he told Abdulla Sheth. The latter cautioned him that some persons friendly to the other party, namely Sheth Tyeb Haji Khan Mohammed, might attempt an access to his papers or otherwise try to influence him. His advice was not to get too familiar with those people. Gandhi assured him that nobody would be able to do any of these things. At the same time, he added that he did intend to be acquainted with Sheth Tyeb and, if possible, try to settle the case out of court. Though somewhat startled at this suggestion, Abdulla Sheth conceded that there could be nothing better than an amicable settlement. In the beginning, he had many misgivings about Gandhi. By now he had changed his mind. All the same, he went on to say: 'We are all relatives and know one another very well. Tyeb Sheth is not a man to consent to a settlement easily. With the slightest wariness on our part, he would extract all sorts of concessions out of us, and do us down in the end. So please think twice before you do anything.' The way Gandhi reassured Abdulla Sheth, he was left with no reason to feel uneasy.

LEAD THOU ME ON

For reaching Pretoria, after overnight rail travel from Durban to Charlestown, one had to avail of the tedious stage-coach service for Johannesburg with a short train journey beyond that point. A first-class rail-cum-coach ticket up to Johannesburg had been purchased for Gandhi. A passenger was required to pay five shillings extra if he needed a bedding. Abdulla Sheth had suggested that he should book a bedding too. Gandhi chose to save this additional expense. The Sheth found it necessary to advise him before his departure not to be overfrugal. What worried him more than anything else was that the young Indian barrister might find things in South Africa too hot to suit his temperament. Gandhi implored him not to be anxious on his account.

It was about 9 p.m. when the train arrived at Maritzburg, the capital of Natal, 73 miles from Durban. A railway employee enquired from Gandhi if he needed a bedding, to which he replied that he had one with him. After a little while, a white passenger came in and had a stern look at him. Apparently he was disturbed to find a coloured co-passenger. He went back and returned with a railway official who asked Gandhi to shift to a third-class compartment. He protested that he had a first-class ticket.

That doesn't matter,' rejoined the official, 'I tell you, you move to the van compartment.'

'But I was permitted to travel in this compartment at Durban, and I would like to continue here,' said Gandhi.

'No, you won't,' said the official. 'You must leave this compartment, or else I shall have to call a constable.'

'Yes, you may,' replied Gandhi. 'I refuse to get out voluntarily.'

He was determined not to go to another compartment. The constable came, seized Gandhi by the arm and pushed him out. His luggage also was off¬ loaded, whereafter the train left. Sorely humiliated, Gandhi went to the lampless waiting-room with his handbag, leaving the remaining luggage where it had been thrown off. The railway staff had the good sense to take charge of it.

It was the month of June. Maritzburg, situated more than 6 degrees south of the tropic of Capricorn and at an altitude of over 2,000 feet, could in mid-winter be very chilly. With a strong blast blowing from the surrounding hills at this hour, the place was icy cold. Gandhi's overcoat was in the suit¬ case; he did not want to go and ask for it, lest he should be put to

LEAD THOU ME ON

27

further insult. So he sat shivering through the night in the dark waiting-room. Another passenger came in after some time. Seemingly, he wanted to enter into a conversation with Gandhi. But the latter was in no mood to talk. He was busy debating with himself in what direction lay his duty. If he gave himself up to despair he would have to withdraw and go back home, breaking the engagement with his employers. The other alternatives he had before him were: to fulfil his undertaking and overlook the humiliations; or to seek redress of the wrongs committed by the privileged whites while still going ahead with his work. The last option was the one that ultimately appealed to him. He could see that the indignity he had suffered was the symptom of a deep- rooted malady. He felt an urge to make some effort to cure it and if necessary suffer hardships in the bargain. By daybreak he had made up his mind to accept the challenge and go forward.

In the morning Gandhi addressed a telegram to the railway chief and another one to Abdulla Sheth. The latter got in touch with the concerned railway official whose wishy-washy attitude did not inspire much confidence. The Sheth had, however, wired to the Indian merchants at important places en route to meet Gandhi and assist him. Some of them at Maritzburg promptly came to the railway station. When he narrated to them what had happened, they were not at all surprised. According to them any Indian travelling first or second class was to be prepared for trouble. Gandhi spent the day listening to their tales of woe. What distressed him most was the fact that his countrymen had come to accept their lot.

Gandhi resumed his journey by the evening train which had a reserved first-class berth for him. This time he purchased a bedding ticket also. The next morning he was at Chariestown. The coach agent there had been informed by Abdulla Sheth about the change in Gandhi's programme for his journey beyond the railhead. Even otherwise the ticket remained valid despite his break of journey for a day at Maritzburg. All the same, the agent did try to confound him by declaring that his reservation for the road journey had been cancelled. During the argument that followed, Gandhi could make out that the real problem was not want of accommodation but outright refusal on the part of the Leader* to have a coolie inside the coach with white passengers. After a good bit of heckling, the conductor who usually sat alongside the coachman assigned his own seat to the obstinate young Indian and himself sat inside. Gandhi could see how wrong it was and humiliating too. He had, however, weighed in his mind that if he insisted on his rightful seat, he would probably be left behind which would mean another day lost with no certainty that on the service the next morning he would fare any better. With a wry face, he occupied the seat offered to him.

★

The coach conductor was designated as Leader.

28

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

On arrival of the coach at Pardekop at about 3 p.m., the Leader decided to get back to his seat. Maybe, he wanted to smoke or have some fresh air. 'Sami, you sit on this, I want to sit near the driver.' So he said, addressing Gandhi, simultaneously taking a dirty piece of sack-cloth and spreading it on the footboard. This was more than Gandhi could tolerate. He put his foot down and asserted: 'It was you who seated me here, though I should have been accommodated inside. I put up with the insult. Now that you want to sit outside and smoke, you would have me sit at your feet. I will not do so, but I am prepared to sit inside.'

The coach conductor could not believe that even a coolie would have the temerity to talk in this fashion. Beside himself with anger, he gave his victim a hard blow, seized him by the arm and would have dragged him down. Gandhi who wanted neither to retaliate nor give in, managed, somehow, to cling to the brass rails of the coach box. The passengers could see what was happening — the conductor swearing at and belabouring a defenceless person. One of them felt shocked at what was going on and edged in: 'Man, let him alone. He is right. If he can't stay where he is, let him come and sit with us.'

Put to shame by this intervention, the bully relented a little and let Gandhi continue beside the coachman and secured for himself a seat on the other side of the coach box. But he had not calmed down. When he could not contain himself, he growled: Take care, just let me get to Standerton and I'll show you what I can do.' Gandhi sat speechless, praying to God for help.

Standerton was a small place on the Vaal river. The coach arrived there well after sunset. Gandhi felt relieved to see some Indians who had come to receive him on getting a telegram sent to them by Dada Abdulla. They took him to Sheth Isa Haji's shop. Here too Gandhi listened to distressing stories of experience, far more bitter than what he had gone through. Anyhow, he reported to the local agent of the coach company about the treatment meted out to him. Surprisingly, the response here was immediate and positive: for his onward journey, Gandhi was assured that he would have a seat with other passengers and the conductor against whom he had complained would not be there.

Gandhi had no problem the next day on the journey from Standerton to Johannesburg where the coach reached late in the evening. Finding no one to assist him, he engaged a cab and went to the Grand National. The manager looked at him for a moment. Very spontaneously he expressed regret, stated that the hotel was full up and bade him goodbye. Instead of wasting any more time, Gandhi proceeded to Mohammed Kasam Kamruddin's shop. Sheth Abdul Gani had, in fact, been waiting for him there. When Gandhi talked to him of his experience at the hotel, the Sheth laughed heartily and remarked that he should not have expected anything better. He was frank enough to acknowledge that people like him who had come to make money could not afford to be sensitive. One telling remark he made was: This country is not for men like

LEAD THOU ME ON

29

you.'* Some other friends joined the conversation. The hardships that the Indians suffered in South Africa made a heart-rending story. It was clear that conditions in the Transvaal were much worse than in Natal. Gandhi was warned that the following day he would have to travel to Pretoria third class because first or second-class tickets were never issued to the Indians. His comment was that they would not have fought for their right hard enough which was a fact.

Gandhi had made up his mind that he must travel first class, and if he could not do so he would take a cab to Pretoria, a distance of only 37 miles. He addressed a note to the Station Master making out a strong case for issue of a first-class ticket for his journey. He had added that he was a barrister and that he always travelled first class. He could foresee that if the Station Master were to give him a formal reply he would certainly say 'no'. He, therefore, concluded the note saying that, with no time for a written reply, he would reach the station and expect to get his ticket.

He took special care to dress himself nicely. The moment he was at the booking counter, the Station Master asked him: 'You sent me that note?'

That is so. I shall be much obliged if you will give me a ticket. I must reach Pretoria today,' replied Gandhi.

The Station Master smiled and said: 'I'm not a Transvaaler. I am a Hollander. I appreciate your feelings, and you have my sympathy. I do want to give you a ticket — on one condition, however, that if the guard should ask you to shift to the third class, you'll not involve me in the affair, by which I mean that you should not proceed against the railway company. I wish you a safe journey. I can see you are a gentleman.' Having said this, he issued the ticket. Gandhi thanked him and gave him the assurance he had asked for.

Sheth Abdul Gani was at the station to see him off. He watched everything with pleasant surprise. But he had his doubts as to whether the guard or other passengers would leave him in peace. He remarked that he would thank God if Gandhi reached Pretoria undisturbed.

Everything was fine until at Germiston the guard came to check the tickets. He was upset on seeing an Indian in the first-class compartment. Addressing Gandhi sternly, he asked him to go to a third-class coach. The latter showed him his first-class ticket. The guard still insisted that he should move out. There was just one English passenger in that compartment. He intervened and questioned the guard: 'What do you mean by troubling the gentleman? Don't you see he has a first-class ticket? I do not mind in the least his travelling with me.' Turning to Gandhi, he said: 'You please make yourself comfortable where you are.' The guard, feeling

* Erik H. Erikson sees in it Gandhi’s emerging sense of what he was not, what he would not become, what he had to fight against in himself as well as in others. On reaching South Africa, Gandhi had landed in the middle of his people's identity confusion - or rather in the middle of the web of pretences which were supposed to be its solution, at least in "adjusted" and moneyed circles.' Ref. Gandhi's Truth (London, 1970) p.165, and also Robert Coles, Erik H. Erikson - The Growth of His Work (London, 1973), p.338.

30

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

surprised at the passenger who had ticked him off in defence of a coolie, said something sharp and went away.

***

The train reached Pretoria at about 8 p.m. The railway station, serving the capital city, was at that time a very modest establishment. There was not much traffic either. Gandhi had expected someone on behalf of Abdulla Sheth's attorney to meet him. But he found no one there. The first thought that passed his mind was about the difficulty he might face in finding a place where he could put up. He was also chary about seeking the help of railway staff. After all the passengers had cleared out, very cautiously he approached the Ticket Collector, surrendered his ticket and enquired about the hotel he could go to. Gandhi was surprised at the courteous attention he received from this official. But he was not able to provide any useful guidance.

Luckily an American Black was standing close by. Feeling concerned for the helpless stranger, he thought of an immigrant from USA, well known to him, running a small hotel. He graciously offered to take him there. Thankfully accepting the help, Gandhi proceeded with him to Johnston's guest-house. He was accepted there for the night on condition that he should have dinner in his room. Mr. Johnston himself had no colour prejudice, but apprehended that if the gentleman came to the dining-room his European guests might object. Having known the conditions prevailing, Gandhi accepted the arrangement and went to the room allotted to him. While he was waiting for his dinner to be served, Mr. Johnston himself came there and said: 'I was ashamed of having asked you to take your dinner here. So I spoke to the other guests about you, and asked them if they would mind your having a meal in the dining-room. They said they had no objection. Please, therefore, come to the dining-room, if you will, and stay here as long as you wish.' Gandhi thanked Mr. Johnston, went to the dining-room and had a hearty meal.

Next morning Gandhi called on A.W. Baker, Dada Abdulla's attorney in Pretoria and found him warm and friendly. Baker lost no time in making it clear to Gandhi that a very competent counsel had been engaged and there was little to worry on that account. But the case being complex, it would be necessary for various kinds of information to be sifted and made available. Gandhi s function would be to liaise between Baker and his client.

Baker had intentionally not fixed up any accommodation for Gandhi. He wanted to meet him and then plan for it. He recognized that there was a 'fearful amount of colour prejudice' and therefore it was not easy to find a place for an Indian lodger like Gandhi. He thought of a poor, needy woman, the wife of a baker, who should agree to take him as a guest. Both of them went to her house. Baker took her aside and talked over the matter. She agreed to accept Gandhi as a boarder for 35 shillings a week.

LEAD THOU ME ON

31

The same day he shifted his luggage to the place. The landlady was a pleasant person and took a good deal of interest in cooking vegetarian food for him. In no time he began to fee! like a member of the family.

***

Gandhi had been in South Africa for a very short period. Inside him some hidden reserve of life force had been unlocked. The turban incident at Durban and his dramatic departure from the court instead of timorous submission to the magistrate's fiat had brought into open the man's inherent tenacity. His earlier encounter with the Political Agent in Rajkot fresh in his mind, he did not want a similar insult to be inflicted on him again. Yet, he had the astuteness to carefully weigh the entire issue regarding the head-dress he should adopt. In doing so he got acquainted with the complex structure of the Indian community in Natal. The fact that he took the initiative to write to a newspaper that had been particularly hostile made some of his countrymen aware of the difference between quiet resignation to any untoward happening in the normal course and swift practical response to a threat to one's honour or well-being. The dominant whites had noted that an exceedingly troublesome person was on the scene.

The fateful journey from Durban to Pretoria was for Gandhi the first lap of a spiritual odyssey. The personal anguish he suffered was his share of the lot of the hapless Indian settlers in South Africa. There was nothing new in what he had gone through, but the way he had reacted to it was unknown before. Something out of the ordinary had happened to him during the long, cold winter night he spent in the Maritzburg railway waiting-room, having neither fire nor light. He did not spend these hours nursing his injured feelings. He had thought over the whole thing until he was able to see what he ought to do. No doubt, he had his own self-respect to redeem. He realised at the same time that he could play a role in salvaging the dignity of his compatriots in this distant land. If the meaning of human life lies in striving for something outside one's personal existence, Gandhi had had a glimpse of it and this cognition helped him transcend the ordinary person's egocentric preoccupations. Consequently he was to a large extent rid of his diffidence and the inferiority complex which had for long smothered his personality. This was, in a way, one of the most creative experiences of Gandhi's early life.

The rest of his journey exposed Gandhi to a variety of afflictions as well as some pleasant surprises. It is noteworthy that even in the face of the vilest of affronts, he had not failed to observe how nice a few of the whites had been, for example, those who felt uneasy at brutality on the part of the blustering conductor of the stage-coach and the overbearing guard of the train from Johannesburg. Their interventions had no doubt touched his heart. Mr. Johnston's kindliness in dealing with him when he went to his guest-house had also not escaped his notice. On the whole, there was enough evidence to sustain Gandhi's faith in humanity. Having seen

32

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

the cruelty and prejudice of some side by side with the unmistakable decency of others, he had enough reason to hope that aberrations of the prevailing order even in South Africa were remediable. All this fortified his newly-aroused urge to combine public work with his struggle for livelihood — a combination which was to provide a new sense of direction for his future life. In its totality, what he had gained was something which he could have described as 'a lantern unto my feet: and a light unto my paths.' The transformation of this new stream of consciousness into an operative course of action was, however, to be a long and slow process.

THE COLONIAL SEQUENCE

South Africa where Gandhi found himself planted towards the middle of 1 893 had a unique colonial landscape. The story of European penetration into the subcontinent began in 1 652 when the Dutch East India Company set up a regular outpost in the Cape of Good Hope, though earlier too, ships had been coming to this natural harbour for replenishment of provisions. A class of native intermediaries had grown up and they provided a channel of trade with herdsmen from the interior. Even after the Dutch Company had established an enclave, it was reluctant to allow regular colonization.. Nevertheless, the small confine in the Cape slowly grew into an extended settlement.

'Before long, some employees of the Company and stray immigrants started rearing of herd cattle and cultivation of land to meet the essential needs of European settlers and supplement the supplies for passing ships. With the Khoisan* inhabitants of the area initially reluctant to give up their independent life and seek employment, the settlers in order to overcome the shortage of labour resorted to the importation of slaves mostly from East Africa and Madagascar. From the economic standpoint this was the simplest answer to the settlers' clamour for servile manual help. The Company had become so dependent on cattle trade that the directors could not have liked it to be dislocated for any reason. They did not, therefore, countenance the enslavement of any section of the local population which, having not experienced this evil in the past, might have reacted to it in a manner detrimental to smooth commercial dealings.

In course of time, the Dutch expansion had the effect of undermining the loosely organized social structure of the Khoisan. The Khoikhoi, essentially very simpte folk, trading with enterprising aliens, shrewd and artful, could not be the gainers. The consequent impoverishment apart, they also became vulnerable to the epidemics brought by the Europeans. The latter, on the other hand, thrived in the temperate climate of the Cape.

The process of white expansion, which was slow in the 1 7th century, gradually grew more rapid. It was partly the result of natural increase. There was some immigration too. The Dutchmen imbued with stern Calvinistic articles of faith were joined by some French Huguenots who shared

* This term is a compound name for the two aboriginal South African peoples known as Hottentots ( Khoikhoi ) and Bushmen (San) — the former largely pastoralists and the latter hunters and gatherers.

34

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

their beliefs. With increasing white population, the number of slaves also multiplied. Many amongst the latter and other non-whites were slowly coming into the Christian fold. In the early stages, European females in the settlement being scarce, there was no taboo on the whites marrying the Hottentot women or even those belonging to the freed slave families. The resultant mixed population came to be known as the Cape coloureds. Some of them were, no doubt, born out of illicit relationships. In any case, there was very little of racial prejudice at this time. The distinction in the Colony was 'not between White and Black but between Pagan and Christian, and no Christian could be held in slavery.' Baptism conferred on the non-whites legal and, to a considerable extent, social equality with the Dutch settlers. But these conditions did not last very long and gradually mixing between Europeans and others began to be frowned upon.*

The Dutch Company was all the time discouraging the settlers from spreading beyond the areas in the neighbourhood of Cape Town. In actual practice, it was impossible to hold them back. It did not take too long for the colonists to move beyond their coastal base. If the area was not fertile and the rainfall adequate, they compensated themselves by occupation of vast tracts of land. The comparatively poor among newcomers and the younger sons of those having large holdings in the settled districts who did not inherit the farmlands had, of necessity, to expand towards the North. The pastoral way of life adopted by them was not far different from that of the Hottentots. Practically beyond the reach of administrative control, the trekboers,** as these cattle-farmers were called, grew into independent, virile and self-reliant path-finders. They were getting increasingly conscious of a new identity as Afrikaners with certain peculiar traits of their own — tenacity of purpose, capacity for silent endurance and an extraordinary sense of self-esteem. Their prolonged severance from the mainstream of European culture was tending to sink into their character, causing their imagination to wilt and their mental horizon to narrow down. Their tenacity often degenerated into obstinacy, their power of endurance into recklessness and their self-esteem into contempt for others.

While the Dutch settlers were slowly moving northward, another migra¬ tion of greater magnitude was already taking place north to south. This was the

The change took place when a good number of the fresh immigrants from Europe came in with their families. The economic factor also appears to have had something to do with this social phenomenon. With the Khoikhoi getting conscious of the white farmers taking perma-nent possession of lands which had been under the occupation of native tribes, display of a certain degree of resistance by some of them was inevitable. This in turn prompted the colonists to strengthen their security and on occasion exhibit their authority. One simple method of asserting superiority was that of maintaining a certain distance from the non-whites. Thus a new social norm was created and it strengthened the nascent Afrikaner identity.

Farmers on the frontiers of settlement. The prefix 'trek' implies the nomadic nature of life. The word 'boer" means farmer. Gradually the term 'Boers' came to be used for Dutch colonists in South Africa engaged in agriculture and cattle-breeding.

THE COLONIAL SEQUENCE

35

steady stream of Bantu-speaking people who, displaced from their homelands near the highlands of East Africa by the depredations of slave hunters, had moved out in search of new lands. This mass migration and its criss-cross currents gave birth to a number of South African sub-nationalities, all having close ethnic, linguistic and cultural ties. The later history of the subcontinent to a large degree revolved around the subjugation of these polities by European immigrants.

***

The Khoisan had reacted to intrusion of the whites in various ways. The San hunters put up a stiff resistance to the trekboers encroaching upon their traditional habitat. In certain areas the San raids forced the settlers to abandon their farms. The San, too, had to give up some of their hunting lands. The conflict between the trekboers and the San became so intense after 1 71 5 that large sections of the latter had to face almost total extermination. The weak amongst the Khoikhoi slowly came to accept an inferior social status and began to work as farm servants and herdsmen. Those who had enough power of resistance strongly opposed the white man's domination. At times this opposition erupted into guerrilla warfare. In the last quarter of the 1 8th century, the entire northern frontier of the Colony was in a state of constant tension and recurrent hostility, raids and counter-attacks having become a common phenomenon. Though the Khoikhoi were ultimately vanquished, they were able to slow down the colonial expansion. Those amongst them who were pushed northward, settled along the Orange river. Others who escaped towards the East merged into the Xhosa* folk who had blocked the white dispersion on that flank that proved far more troublesome to the colonial administration. Minor cattle raids and the diminutive guerrilla incursions or territorial skirmishes of the earlier phase had escalated into frontier wars. The third one in the series took place between 1 799 and 1802 when conflict with the Xhosa in the East coincided with an uprising by the Khoikhoi in the North. About this time the Cape passed into the hands of Britain, eager to guard its vita! sea route to India. With the appearance of regular British troops there, the balance tilted more definitely in favour of the white colonists.

The British administrators, like the earlier Dutch bureaucracy in the Cape, did not have a clear understanding of the frontier problem. Their effort was to avert recurring conflict by keeping the white settlers farthest away from the African tribes and drive back the latter. What they failed to comprehend was the existence of a close economic interaction between them alongside the continuing unrest exploding into armed action from time to time. The situation was further complicated because of a major social upheaval caused in the subcontinent by the highly organized campaigns

* One of the major Bantu tribes which had moved down south and had spread out on both sides of the Fish river.

36

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

launched by Shaka, a dynamic tribal chieftain, who became the ruler of Zululand in 1 81 6. In his own way he was a military genius and within a short period he had built up a powerful war apparatus to subjugate the neighbouring territories. Aware of the fact that if he tried to move further down towards the Cape, he would have to confront a formidable adversary, Shaka kept the well- nigh depopulated Natal as a buffer zone. Anyhow, in this turmoil, refugees from the principalities under attack moved out to adjoining regions. Those who went southward spread themselves mainly over the area to the East of Cape colony. These displaced people, reduced to paupers with their social structures badly disrupted by prolonged warfare, became known as Mfengu* (or Fingos). Their appearance on the scene, added to the tensions within the Xhosa society, caused a major change in the situation.

During some of the frontier combats the Mfengu helped the British and were in turn rewarded by the grant of Xhosa lands and cattle. Ultimately the Xhosa resistance broke down. A large section of the people were wiped out either in fighting or by starvation. Among the survivors, very many were so demoralised that they moved westward across the frontier to seek whatever employment they could get. The Boers, however, were all the time weighed down by their common belief that they were not getting enough help from the Cape Government.

***

The socio-political problem within the European community was even more complex than the frontier question. The bulk of the white settlers consisted of Dutch Boers who, separated from the British by barriers of nationality and language, strongly felt that they had been condemned to subservience to an authority that did not understand their problems. They could not but resent the imposition of English by the new rulers.

Accustomed to regard the coloured servants or neighbours as their inferiors and therefore meant to be used more or less as slaves, the Boers were unable to adjust themselves to a different social ethic that the British sought to implant after the colony came under their occupation. This change was in some measure related to the influx of missionaries from Britian. They had produced an awareness of a more humanitarian social philosophy, though their principal aim was to convert the African communities to Christianity rapidly. The first large lot of converts in the Cape was drawn from the Khoikhoi and mixed groups along the Orange river. In the eastern regions, the Mfengu refugees under the impact of mission activity adopted the Christian faith and developed into prosperous peasant cultivators. Guided by their example, a large number of the Xhosa also turned to Christianity. Alongside the propagation of their faith, the missionaries did not hesitate to denounce unfair discrimination against the native population. They wanted the Government to follow a policy that would strengthen

A term derived from a verb meaning to beg for food.

THE COLONIAL SEQUENCE

37

their drive to win over people and spread the Christian gospel among them. The British Colonial Office too, under the influence of missionaries, was inclined to look at many of the problems from this standpoint.

The perennial shortage of labour in the settled areas, having regard to the actual requirements, should have induced the colonists to be a little liberal towards their non-white employees. The Cape economy, apart from very limited development of agriculture in the south-west, largely revolved around cattle and sheep-farming for the growth of which it needed successive increments of manpower. It is difficult to understand why even then the labour force in the Colony was subject to exploitation and oppression to an extent that would have necessarily kept the number of job-seekers low. The labourers were poorly paid and were subjected to rough treatment. They did not have freedom of movement: they were required to carry a pass, signed both by the master and the local official, if they wished to leave their registered place of abode. An ordinance, passed in 1 828, which sought to relieve the coloured servants of this restriction, caused a commotion among all the whites, more so among the Boers. Five years later, came an Act of Parliament according to which, after the prescribed period of apprenticeship, all slaves in the British Empire were to be emancipated. Although provision was also made to compensate owners of the slaves for the loss they were to suffer on this account, a large section of white settlers in the Cape looked at the whole thing as a great disaster. What hurt them all the more was that the payment of compensation was, according to their reckoning, less than half of their entitlement. The frontier farmers, already indignant at various forms of interference from the Cape Town Government, had taken a more serious view of this change.

The proverbial last straw was the Colonial Secretary's refusal to allow annexation of the Xhosa territory after the tribe was beaten decisively in the 1 834 frontier conflict. Towards the end of 1835, a few thousand Boers, in a rebellious mood but lacking the wherewithal to fight the administration, organized themselves into small groups and left the Colony with a deep sense of grievance against the Government, which they felt would not let them live in peace and provide them adequate protection against incursions by the African communities.

The Great Trek,* as this migration of the Boer farmers came to be called, gradually gathered momentum. The Voortrekkers (the term used for these migrants) who left the Cape with their families, their cattle and other belongings, moved northward. Crossing the Orange river,** they occupied the

* Ken Jordan has tried to explode the idea of 19th century British liberalism as the main cause of this wave of Boer migration. According to him, the British land speculators, anxious to grab large farms cheaply and put them to profitable use for sheep-rearing, were circulating all kinds of rumours among the Boer farmers to scare them into making distress sales: for instance, that the Roman Catholic religion was on its way to the Cape; that the Boers were going to be conscripted into the British navy. All this fitted into the British imperial device to use Boers to open up the interior. Ref. his paper on Iberian and Anglo-Saxon racism, Race and Class (London 1979), Vol. XX, No 4, pp. 401-3.

** By 1837 about 5,000 Voortrekkers had crossed the Orange river; by 1845 their number had gone up to about 14,000.

38

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

region that later became known as the Orange Free State. A sizeable section of the Voortrekkers moved further north across the Vaal and established themselves in the region that was named as the T ransvaal. The blacks who could possibly have opposed them were handicapped because of their low- grade weaponry. While the trade in firearms with the native chieftains was forbidden, it was freely allowed to white Afrikaners. Anyhow, the tribes vanquished by the trekkers decided to move beyond the Limpopo, leaving the latter as a dominant power on the western Highveld.

One of the ablest Boer leaders Piet Retief, who had played an important part in the fight against Xhosa raiders in 1 834-35, while leaving the Cape in 1837, had stated in a manifesto: 'We solemnly declare that we are leaving this Colony with the desire to lead a more peaceful life than we have had until now. We shall molest no people and deprive nobody of the least property. We are leaving ... with the complete assurance that the English Government has no further claim on us and will allow us... to manage our affairs in future.' What happened was very different from what was professed or hoped. The section of trekkers led by Piet Retief, eager to go into more fertile area and secure an outlet to the sea, was adventurous enough to cross the Drakensburg mountains. They had to confront the Zulus who were in occupation of the northern part of the present-day Natal. There were many ups and downs in which Retief himself lost his life. At last the help received by the Boers on arrival of another stream of trekkers, equipped with superior arms, enabled them to overpower the Zulus and put in place a ruler subservient to them. They could now spread themselves out in Natal and occupy large tracts of land of their choice. In the centre of the area seized by them, Pietermartizburg named after Piet Retief and Gert Maritz, another Boer leader, the seat of government was established .

Britain naturally felt disturbed by these evelopments. Technically, the Boers were still subjects of the British crown, but they were not prepared to accept its authority in any form. Aggressive and overbearing, wherever they reached they made unwarranted encroachments, thus stirring up waves of unrest among the native communities. The Cape administration had to do something about what had happened in Natal. A small British force had been stationed there in 1838. In 1845, Britain, prompted by the Cape Government, declared the annexation of this territory to further protect its sea-route to India and to prevent social turmoil among Africans in this part of the subcontinent which would have been caused by the trekker land and labour policies. Most of the Voortrekkers, who had reached there and were now unwilling to submit themselves to British rule, found it expedient to recross the Drakansberg to get back to the Highveld. Natal, at this stage,

THE COLONIAL SEQUENCE

39

attracted a large massof African refugees who flocked to the region, comparatively more peaceful than the adjoining areas. Between 1848 and 1 851 , a few thousand British immigrants also came to this Colony and they constituted the core of white settlers in Natal, which remained a dependency of the Cape up to 1 856.

The British wanted to avoid any more outright annexations in South Africa. To have a barrier between the colonies under their own control and the territories occupied by the Boers they had created a ring of protected native states. This political arrangement, however, did not work smoothly. In certain areas there was serious trouble between the Boers and the native communities. Ultimately a stage came when the Governor of the Cape, eager to control the Colony's turbulent frontiers, found it necessary to depart from the policy of minimum intervention. The result was annexation of the territory between the Orange and the Vaal (Orange Free State) in 1 848. The resistance that the Boers could offer remained feeble. A large section of the farmers in the region willingly accepted British rule. Those who could not reconcile themselves to it went across the Vaal. The Transvaal, left to itself, was still not a unified state.

The British Government did not like to follow the trekkers into the vast interior that promised no tangible gain but would have involved considerable expense. There was a widely held view in Britain that the Boers had a moral right to political freedom if they desired it. In 1852 the independence of the Transvaal was formally recognized under the Sand River Convention. Two years later, the British withdrew from Transorangia and the Orange Free State was also accepted as an independent republic under the Bloemfontein Convention. Despite these developments, the memories of bitterness severing the Boer republics from the crown colonies could not be obliterated.

One factor that guided the thinking of the Orange Free State Boers was the state of conflict with Basutoland, their neighbour on the eastern flank. When the latter was decisively defeated in 1865, the Free State would have annexed the whole of this territory but for the Cape Government's intervention that resulted in a treaty admitting a reduced Basutoland, as a British protectorate. The net gain to the Orange Free State was acquisition of a fairly large tract of fertile land. The Free Staters still had reason to feel that they had not fully reaped the fruits of victory.

Soon the Orange Free State was to have another grievance. In 1 867, diamonds were found in an area on the western border of the republic where Kimberley is now situated. In this region (the Western Griqualand) no precise delimitation of the borders had been carried out and there was a complex ownership dispute between the Free State, the Transvaal, the native chief of the neighbouring state and certain other interests about the territory now prized for its mineral wealth. While the Orange Free State was trying to set up an administrative apparatus in the area, the Griqua

40

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

chief found it expedient to opt for British sovereignty. The Cape Government, taking advantage of the situation, went on to annex Griqualand West. The Free State vehemently protested against this action; all it got was a sum of £90,000 as compensation. The whole affair left the republic deeply aggrieved.

***

As far as the Transvaal region was concerned, unlike the Orange Free State, it could not for many years evolve a viable central authority due to inability on the part of different leaders to pull together. Nevertheless, the bulk of Transvaalers had accepted, in February 1858, the constitution drawn up in 1855 and modified as a result of amendments made during the intervening period. In the early sixties, however, there was a 4-year-long civil war at the end of which Martin Pretorius* as President and Paul Kruger as military commandant, undertook the task of creating an integrated state. Even after 1 864 when the different units merged to form the South African Republic, the sense of national unity remained weak for a long time.

Constantly involved in armed encounters with the neighbouring native chiefdoms and tribes, the Transvaalers had become a menace to the stability of the entire subcontinent. With the Disraeli Government assuming office in 1874, Britain's South Africa policy went through a major change and the evolvementof a federal set-up became its principal constituent. It was believed that, as long as the Transvaal conducted its affairs in the style it had adopted, it was impossible to realise the federation ideal.

Earlier, Sir George Grey** had in the late fifties strongly advocated the idea of a South African federation on the ground that divisions between the white communities, each too weak to have a sound administrative apparatus and provide for an adequate security system to deal with the African chiefs, were bound to result in perpetual turmoil that could be avoided if there was a single federal state. His thinking was guided by an anxiety to head off somehow a union between the Free State and the Boers across the Vaal that otherwise could not be ruled out. The British Government then, just did not want to get entangled with affairs from which it could keep itself free. Disraeli's Colonial Secretary, Lord Carnarvan, now held that federation was the only solution to the South African problem.

When trouble arose between the Transvaal and Zuiuland because of expansionist tendencies on the one side and refusal to allow infringement of frontiers on the other, it was felt that the outbreak of war between the two would set in motion a convulsion which may be difficult to hold in. This was a good excuse for taking the republic under British control. Sir Theophilus Shepstone, the Secretary of Native Affairs in Natal, determinedly

The Transvaal President from 1864 to 1871. Paul Kruger was later elected President in 1883 and held this office for 18 years.

** Governor of the Cape from 1 854 to 1 861 .

THE COLONIAL SEQUENCE

41

carried through the annexation of the Transvaal in April 1877 and declared that the Colony would soon be given self-governing powers. It was a step towards the establishment of a federal system. It was also an indirect warning to the ruier of Zululand that if he attacked the T ransvaal he would have to fight against the British.

The Transvaal could not have reconciled itself to British rule. Particularly the farmers resented the new Government's harshness in the collection of taxes. When the Gladstone ministry came to power in 1 880, the T ransvaalers expected that their independence would be restored. When this hope did not materialize, they rose in revolt. Before the British forces could be moved in and brought into action, the Boers achieved a sensational victory in the battle of Majuba (1 881 ). if Britain had the will to put down the rebellion, there was no lack of means to do so. Gladstone, however, did not like to forcibly impose British rule on this region. A few months after Majuba, a negotiated settlement was reached under the Pretoria Convention whereby the Transvaal Boers were granted autonomy, subject to Britain's suzerainty, with a proviso that their foreign affairs would be controlled by the British Government. The terms of settlement were further liberalized under the Convention of London (1 884) which left Britain's suzerainty rather tenuous. The T ransvaal was again styled as the South African Republic. The possibility of having a federated South Africa had become all the more remote.

In the meantime Paul Kruger was elected as the Transvaal's President. As a young boy, he was among the earliest of the Boer trekkers. As he grew up, he participated in many of the fierce battles fought by the Voortrekkers with their adversaries. During the Civil War of 1 861 -64, he played a prominent part in rallying the people in support of a unified constitutional authority. He also had a leading role in the Transvaalers' revolt of 1 880-81 . He displayed considerable diplomatic skill in negotiating the terms of settlement with the British representatives in August 1881 and again in February 1884.

The Transvaal Boers, driven by an insatiable hunger for territory, were still restless. They started off raids on all sides in violation of the boundaries defined by the Convention of London. They occupied an area forming part of Zululand and founded the New Republic, which Britain chose to recognize. It was incorporated into the Transvaal in 1 888. The Boers gradually subjugated Swaziland also. When they entered Bechuanaland on the West, the British Government intervened and declared it as its own protectorate.

Within the Transvaal itself, the Africans who had in Cape Colony, on paper at least, some political rights, were denied all claims to citizenship by an express provision in the constitution.* As much of the available land was apportioned amongst the white settlers, the native population had

★

The well-known Article 9 provided: the people are not prepared to allow any equality of the non-white with the white inhabitants, either in Church or State.

42

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

little scope for extending their farming activity. Administration over them was left in the hands of chiefs and headmen who were required to provide labour for European farmers. This labour tax, which meant supply of labour at low wages, further impoverished the Africans. Often, force was used to secure more labour. Sporadic plunder and occasional savagery indulged in by the well-armed Boers on one pretext or the other served to remind tribesmen of the white man's fire power.

A more complex situation arose with the discovery of gold-fields in the Witwatersrand area which attracted thousands of diggers followed by traders and professional people. Within a few years Johannesburg, about 40 miles south of Pretoria, the tiny capital town, became an important urban centre. With only 3,000 inhabitants in 1887, its population was 25,000 in 1890 and was continuing to grow at a phenomenal pace. The flood of uitlanders (outlanders or foreigners) and establishment of a large Cosmopolitan, mainly English, community in the midst of a rural Boer society was, in the eyes of President Kruger, a threat to a separate national identity of his people. The positive side of the changing scene was the remarkable improvement in the economy of the South African Republic. Kruger was more concerned about the Dutch farmers being swamped by the newcomers and the country getting anglicized. This, he felt, could be prevented only by denying political rights to the new immigrants. It was with this aim that he restricted the exercise of franchise to only those settlers who had resided in the T ransvaal for at least fourteen years, with twelve years as naturalized subjects under an oath of allegiance. They were not allowed even municipal self-government in Johannesburg, the city of their own creation. The uitlanders naturally felt restive. The English mining magnates had their own reasons to be dissatisfied with Kruger's economic policies. Cecil Rhodes, at the helm of Government in the Cape, who himself had extensive gold interests and had created a vast consortium under his control, lent support to the uitlanders ' movement against Kruger's regime. The campaign was spearheaded by the T ransvaal National Union, formed in 1892 by Charles Leonard. Petitions, mass meetings and secret manoeuvres had become common elements of civic life in the republic. President Kruger, however, remained firm. His attitude was: this was his country; it had its own laws; those who did not like to obey them could go elsewhere.

***

In the British colonies, the Cape and Natal, the problems were different from those in the Boer republics. The Cape, of course, had a more heterogeneous society. Its white population in the latter half of the nineteenth century was growing at a rapid rate. Despite what had happened in the earlier period, the relations between the Dutch and the British in this Colony were generally amicable. Dutch racial feeling was, however, slowly getting

THE COLONIAL SEQUENCE

43

aroused in the Cape because of happenings in the Transvaal. It found expression in the establishment of an organization, known as the Afrikander Bond, in 1 882. However, with Cecil Rhodes becoming a dominant figure in Cape politics, tho antagonism between the white communities remained in control. When he became the Prime Minister in 1890, he took special care to enlist the cooperation of J.H. Hofmeyr, the most prominent leader of the Bond, and spared no effort to cultivate friendly relations between the Dutch and the English.

The Africans in the Cape were not as oppressed as elsewhere. This colony had the distinction of acquiring democratic institutions in the early fifties. In 1872 it got full responsible government. A striking feature of the political change introduced in two stages was grant of equal voting rights to the blacks and whites on the basis of the prescribed franchise qualification. After the incorporation of certain African territories in later years, there too the franchise was extended to eligible Africans. The participation in self-government, allowed to the coloured population, contributed to the promotion of some degree of racial harmony. If Sir George Grey's plan for a federal set-up, as mooted in 1 858, had found acceptance, the Cape tradition would have possibly extended to the other units and led to a different course of South African history. But, as it happened, with the passage of time the Cape's own liberal tradition became weak. In 1887 and again in 1892, the qualifications for franchise were modified in order to restrict the number of African and other coloured voters.

While the Cape had attained self-government early enough, Natal remained until 1893 a crown colony, administered by a Lieutenant-Governor assisted by a council, partly nominated and partly elected. The main factor that slowed down political change in Natal was the small number of white settlers. In 1 852 their number was less than 8,000 out of a total population of 1 72,000. The bulk of the population consisted of Bantu-speaking people who were left under the control of their own tribal chiefs in the reserved areas set apart for them. They managed their affairs under the customary law in vogue among the tribes. The architect of this policy, Sir Theophilus Shepstone, had created eight reserves covering an area of 2.25 million acres, to contain the reflux of Africans to their homelands that they had left during the period of turmoil.

The Government of Natal had to be careful in its relations with Zululand, its immediate neighbour in the North. The latter, no doubt, valued British goodwill, to be able to deal with encroachments by the Transvaal Boers on its western flank. With King Cetshwayo coming into power in Zululand, the British noticed a determined effort on his part to revive Shaka's military tradition. When the Transvaal was taken under British protection in 1 877, Cetshwayo felt that he had been deprived of a prize that could be his. In response to his manoeuvres that threatened the safety of South Africa, the British mounted pressure on him that ultimately led to the outbreak of Zulu war in 1879. In the confrontation of numbers and courage against organization and guns, the latter combination proved more potent

44

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and the British gained a decisive victory at Ulundi. They deposed Cetshwayo, but later restored him to power after making some territorial adjustments. Although there were adequate checks on his authority, the arrangement was not free from trouble. Those at the helm of affairs in Natal were keen on outright annexation. The Home Government, however, was not agreeable. Subsequently, when the British felt perturbed by Kruger's expansionist policy they went on to annex Zululand in 1 887, ostensibly as a means of preventing further aggression by the Transvaal. Treated as a crown colony, it was administered by the Lieutenant-Governor of Natal on Her Majesty's behalf.

Even after Natal had been under British occupation for some years, its economic viability was still in question. The early attempts made to grow cotton and coffee had not been successful. It was only when the sugar industry was established that the key to Natal's economic future was found. If cultivation of sugarcane was to flourish, a solution had to be sought to the problem of agricultural labour required for this purpose. A good number of the blacks in Natal at this time had been engaged as small tenants on the huge tracts of land occupied by the British immigrants. Some of them were otherwise employed for manual work by the white settlers. The rest of them, including those flooding back into Natal with the return of peace, had been absorbed by the spacious native reserves where they had resumed their traditional subsistence agriculture, in a tribal setting. They preferred it to working as wage labourers with all its drudgery to which they were not habituated. Thus there was no discernible section of Africans in the colony from which the coastal planters could draw their much-needed supply of farm hands. Their first reaction was to agitate against the system of locations which, according to them, had created this, problem. When it became dear that there was no prospect of a change in the official policy, they started thinking in terms of an external source of labour. That is how it became necessary for the Government of Natal to turn to India to meet this important requirement.

THE COMING OF INDIANS

Even after slavery was abolished over the British Empire, those who had thrived on it were eager to devise an alternative arrangement to obtain cheap and efficient labour for plantation farming. Some fertile mind, familiar with the flow of white contract labour from Europe during the early phase of colonization in North America, found an easy answer to this problem in the system of indentured labour for recruitment of which India, because of its imperial link, became an important source. The Indians' skill and hard work had brought prosperity to countries like Mauritius and the West Indies. No wonder, when Natal was in need of plantation labour for growing sugarcane, it looked up to the Government of India for help. All the formalities were gone through by September 1 860 and within five months as many ships carrying 1,029 men and 359 women along with some children had left for Durban. The competition by other colonies for recruitment of labour was so tough that for some time Natal was not able to obtain its full requirement.

The indentured workman going there was entitled, besides his keep, to a wage which starting with ten shillings a month for the first year rose to twelve shillings a month in the third. After three years he was required to enter into a fresh contract with the same or another employer for the fourth year, or two additional years if he chose to do so. In 1 864 the basic period of indenture itself was enhanced from three years to five. On completion of five years, the labourer was at liberty to seek employment in the open market. After a further period of five years, he became eligible for free return passage to India or in lieu thereof a grant of crown land of equivalent value.* There was nothing in the legislation whereby the immigrant could be forced to return to India.

At first the indentured labour was sent to Natal largely from the Bengal Presidency. South India was soon the leading source of supply. Whatever the region they belonged to, the majority of emigrants were lower caste Hindus. Among the caste Hindus, the largest group was that of Vaishyas. The Muslims and Christians were about twelve and five percent respectively. All these people, with their improvidence as one common factor, were out to make South Africa their new home. But from the very start, the majority of employers in the plantations did not deal with them in a

Approximately £ 10

46

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

manner that could have led to smooth master-servant relations. The misery and despair because of which these migrants left their homeland could not have failed to make them exceedingly docile. The only problem that should have bothered the planters was that of occasional absence from duty by the workers for one reason or the other. The penalty prescribed for such default in the statute was rather harsh: forfeiture of two days' wage for one day's work missed. The way this system worked was atrocious. In numerous cases the labourers had little or no wages to receive at the end of a month. On some estates, the masters were so inconsiderate that when fines for sickness, etc., imposed by them exceeded the salary due for the month, they would carry forward the balance for deduction from the next month's pay. The Immigration Agent found it necessary in November 1 965 to tell the Colonial Secretary of Natal that unless some measures were adopted to stop this practice the employers might manage in such a way that they had little or nothing to pay to the Indian coolies.

Despite the new legislation in 1870, that was meant to bring relief to the immigrants, the planters continued to impose unwarranted punishments. The officials charged with the duty to visit the plantations and keep a watch seldom attended to it seriously. Even if some of them were inclined to be conscientious, they could do little against the politically powerful proprietors, 'who treated their Indian employees at best unfairly and at worst cruelly.'

Of the first group of approximately 1 ,400 immigrants who, on completion often years in Natal between November 1 870 and March 1871, became entitled to free passage, about 400 chose to return to India. On getting back home, narrating their bitter experience in South Africa, they talked of unsatisfactory medical attention, illegal fines, floggings and withholding of wages as well as rations. With magistrates generally biased against them, the aggrieved persons had no means to seek redress. If any of them went to the court, they had to keep in mind the retaliation they were to face on their return. During the depression in the late sixties, a large proportion of workers on the plantations that went bankrupt had been left unpaid and without food. In May 1968 there were 260 Indians, with unexpired indentures, subsisting on Government doles. When they were ultimately re-employed on revival of Natal's economy, they did not receive any compensation for the period they had been out of work.

The emigration of Indian labour to Natal had been at a halt since 1866. The accusations made by the labourers on return, put the Indian Government on the alert and it refused to resume emigration to Natal until the colonial authorities became alive to th eir duty towards the labourers and took adequate measures to ensure full protection to them. The Natal Government came under heavy pressure from Whitehall on this issue. In the Colony itself a large section of the whites did not share the sugarcane- planters' enthusiasm for indentured labour from India. There was widespread opposition to the idea of Government subsidy* for such immigration.

The Government had met more than one-third of the expenditure incurred on Indian

immigration.

THE COMING OF INDIANS

47

The sugar lobby, however, was too conscious of the important role this labour had played in making the cultivation of sugarcane a paying proposition. With a new era of prosperity in sight, at a time when Natal was threatened by a serious labour crisis, it could not let grass grow under its feet. It brought all its influence to bear on the Government to get things on the move. The result was appointment of a commission in 1872 to study the problem. The principal recommendations of the commission related to abolition of flogging as a punishment, provision of improved medical care and creation of a senior post of Protector of Indian Immigrants. After these recommendations were implemented, the indentured Indian immigration was resumed in 1 874. Within a year about 6,000 labourers arrived in Durban. Although Natal's recruitment set-up in India was at times unequal to the task assigned to it, the number of Indians in the Colony steadily increased. Even while the Government of Natal had come to attach some importance to the protection of indentured immigrants, there was no fundamental change in the situation on ground. Subjection to humiliations and various forms of cruelty remained normal features of the indentured labourers' life in the Colony. The Protector himself was charged in 1876 for having killed an Indian worker.*

In the heart of their hearts, the sugarcane-planters were aware of the debt they owed to the indentured labourers who were by nature industrious and prepared to work day and night. Yet they seldom treated these poor people with kindness. The upcountry farmers who had the advantage of African farm hands or rent-payers working for them and could do without the Indian indentured labour were dead-set against further immigration or continued stay of these workers in the Colony on expiry of their contract period. The Natal Witness, the newspaper that represented their viewpoint, had commented about the Indian labourer:

He is introduced for the same reason as mules might be introduced from Monte Video, oxen from Madagascar or sugar machinery from Glasgow. The object for which he is brought is to supply labour and that alone. He is not one of us, he is in every respect an alien; he only comes to perform a certain amount of work, and return to India.

Most of the Indians who had come to Natal wanted to make the best of a bad bargain. They knew that they had little to gain by going back to their homeland. Having got used to a life of secure subsistence, many of them, on expiry of their term of indenture, continued to work on the same or other sugarcane plantations.** The few among them who were enterprising, on

* Robert A. Huttenback. Gandhi in South Africa (London, 1971), pp. 14-15.

** They could easily find employment as ordinary field hands at wages varying from 16 to 25 shillings per month with rations. For skilled and supervisory work the monthly wage ranged from £ 3 to 7.

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getting free, engaged themselves in a variety of skilled jobs. They worked as tailors, washermen, bakers, blacksmiths, carpenters, etc. Some of them were first-class cooks, earning handsome wages. Afew ex-indentured Indians had set up small shops. Those who had undertaken farming on the plots of land allotted to them, on completion of ten years' stay in Natal, produced several much-needed crops, including vegetables for the market. While these people were able to make a living, the colonists got access to goods and services that could not otherwise be available. By the mid-seventies there were over 5,000 time-expired Indians in Natal.

If a large number of Indians, on expiry of the ten-year period, chose to settle down in Natal, it was economically advantageous for its white population. The advantage would have been greater, if the second-generation Indians had received proper education. Even after a law aimed at promotion of education among the Indian immigrants' children was passed, the Natal Government failed to do anything substantial. In 1885, there were 22 schools for them dependent on Government grants and they received less than an aggregate of £1 ,500 per annum. Although the number of students was increasing, the total amount sanctioned for Indian education was more or less static. Naturally, the schools remained poorly equipped. Until 1887, the instruction imparted did not go beyond Standard III.

The white colonists had no desire to integrate Indians into the country's socio-economic system. In reality, the increasing number of Indians permanently residing in Natal was anathema to them. They were particularly tormented by the fact that these immigrants, who according to them were 'the scum of Madras and Calcutta,' should be eligible to appear on the electoral role. Although the number of such Indians was extremely small, the white settlers tried hard to deprive them of the right to vote. They did not succeed in doing so as long as the protective arm of the Colonial Office remained firm. There was also an apprehension that legislation to this effect might call for an embargo on indentured immigration into Natal.

Partly as a result of pressures from Calcutta and partly for internal reasons, the Natal Government appointed another commission* in 1 885 to restudy the Indian problem. But nothing much came out of it except for the public controversy that was sparked off by its report. The opponents of Indian immigration were imbued with the idea that they were building up a new nation and, according to them, the admission of 'undesirables' like those from India did not fit into the scheme of things. The Natal Witness again was in the forefront. It argued: There is probably not a single person in Natal who does not... deplore the Asiatic invasion, but personal and selfish considerations raise a barrier to any movement here to stem the tide. We want labour, is the cry;... and so we must take what is offered and what is cheap. Of the social evil and evils to the body politic which such indifference is fostering, they take no account...' At the other end of the spectrum was the opinion expressed by L Hulett, one of the influential

* Headed by Sir Walter Wragg

THE COMING OF INDIANS

49

sugarcane planters. He had asserted in the Legislative Council that Indians were the only reliable labour in the Colony. Its introduction, according to him, had not only helped the sugar estates to prosper, but had also relieved labour shortage generally. The anti-Indian voice in this debate was decidedly louder The inevitable result was the gradual erosion of Indian rights in the Colony. Local ordinances in Durban and Maritzburg had brought Indians within the purview of vagrancy laws, whereby they had become liable to arrest as vagrants if found on the streets after 9 p.m. without a pass. A law enacted in 1 890 went to the extent of limiting the right of indentured Indians and their descendants to the consumption of alcoholic drinks.

The Natal Government was anxious that the indentured labourers before becoming eligible for their free return passage should remain in bonded service for the entire period often years of their stay in the Colony and at the end of it, they must compulsorily return to India.* As a quid pro quo, it proposed to abolish the still continuing immigration subsidy, which the Colonial Office had all along abhorred. This guile did not work and the Secretary of State cold-shouldered both the proposals. About the immigrants’ compulsory return to India after completion of the indentured service, his reaction was that the British Government could not countenance a piece of legislation that interfered with the ordinary rights of British subjects. As regards the idea of ten years' indentured service, he advised the Natal Government to consult the Indian authorities directly. When this proposal reached Calcutta, it was categorically rejected by the Government of India. It argued that the proposed arrangement would not be fair in so far as it would deprive the immigrant of the option to return home at the end of five years, and at the same time prevent him from makmg the best use of the second spell of five years in South Africa.

Having failed in these manoeuvres, the Government of Natal did what lay in its power. For indentured Indians entitled to free return passage on completion of ten years after arrival in Natal, the Government could at its discretion commute the cost of the journey into a grant of crown land. This right was taken away under law 25 of 1 891 . This legislation, though largely in the nature of a consolidation of the existing laws, had some other regressive features also. The effect of one most outrageous section was that if the labourers, without first obtaining permission, absented themselves from work to approach the Protector of Indian immigrants in order to seek redress of a grievance, they were liable to be punished by fine or imprisonment, even if their complaint was found justified. The victims of cruel treatment had to ask for permission to go to the Protector from the very man they were to complain against. One small mercy shown at the

* At one stage an incentive plan had been tried to encourage ten years' indenture. For voluntary re-indenture on expiry of the regular five-year period, a special bonus of £10 was offered to the concerned labourers. But very few of them had availed themselves of it because of their clear preference for unbonded life.

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instance of the Colonial Office was: the Indian labourers recruited before this law was passed were to retain their earlier rights.

***

The Colony was continuing to prosper with the help of Indians. But its white settlers, all the time torn by the fear of being swamped by those choosing to settle down in Natal permanently, were not prepared to accept them as fellow-citizens. The European settlers' fright had turned into a kind of dread with the Indian traders' appearance on the scene. When some of them already in Mauritius learnt about the arrival of indentured Indians in Natal in large numbers, they felt tempted to follow them. The first Indian merchant to open a shop in Natal was Sheth Abubakar Amod. He had taken care to have an Englishman as his partner. The success achieved by him drew to the Colony a few others from his home town. This inflow of Memons from Porbandar and soon that of Bohras from Surat, at first only a trickle, had gradually increased. The new Indian immigrants were often referred to as 'passengers', having paid for their passage as distinct from the labourers who had come to Natal under contract on government expense. The growing Asian community, earlier served by a few Indian stores, was to be the main clientele of the passenger merchants. The ex-indentured store-keepers could not withstand their competition for long. By 1 885 the bulk of Indian shops in Durban had come under the ownership of Gujarati merchants who chose to describe themselves as Arabs. Some people called them Bombay merchants. The very rapid success achieved by them in their business was viewed by the Europeans as a new menace, far more serious than the imaginary threat they had already faced from the indentured Indians who, on expiry of their contract period, had branched off into different occupations.

The so-called Arab, who usually started with a retail shop, catered to the needs not only of the Asians, but to those of white colonists and Africans too. Often assisted by members of his family or relations, he could keep his overheads low. He generally worked on a small margin of profit. The people found that the cost of provisions was much less if purchased from an Arab shop than from large stores run by the whites. Many a colonial housewife, regardless of her prejudice against Indians in general, liked to patronize the Arab charging the lowest prices. The white establishments were, thus, faced with competition which, they could see, was affecting their business. In 1 880 there were seven Arab shopkeepers in Durban. By 1 885 their number was sixty. According to the census of 1 891 , there were 1 32 Indian storekeepers in that city. In the whole of Natal there were 598 such stores. In addition, there were 1 72 Indian traders, as distinct from shopkeepers. The total number of Indians in Natal by this time approximated to 41 ,000 — hardly 1 2 percent less than the Europeans. It looked as if the Indian population would soon exceed that of the whites. The economic and demographic factors had together caused outright panic among the white colonists.

THE COMING OF INDIANS

51

The earlier lot of immigrants from India had for a long time quietly accept-ed various forms of tyranny. The more confident and ambitious Gujaratis and other Indians who had come over as free migrants could not be that insensitive to their grievances. The Indian discontent found concrete expression in a memorial sent to the Secretary of State for Colonies in November 1 884.* It was the first signal shot conveying that submissiveness on the part of Indians in Natal should not be taken for granted. The immediate response of the whites was to further harden their attitude. The situation would have been aggravated but for the moderating influence exercised by the Colonial Office. The latter factor, combining with the Indian traders' own awareness of the reality that if they were to make money in this foreign land they should not aspire for equal status with the ruling class, had brought about a tenuous sort of equilibrium. All the same, when they found that their position was getting precarious, they did not hesitate to raise their voice by way of protest about the difficulties they were experiencing.

Several Indian traders were drawn to the Cape by the lure of commercial opportunities in that Colony. Some time-expired indentured labourers too had moved in. On the whole, the treatment meted out to Indians here was not so uncordial as in Natal. For one thing, their number was not too large. The Press in Cape Town had generally not been hostile to the Indian community. The Cape could also, to an extent, pride itself on a more liberal tradition in racial matters. If it was not seriously affected by colour prejudice, the main reason was its background of large-scale ethnic inter mixing. It had many Malays in its population for whom the Cape was almost like their motherland. As Dutch subjects, they had enjoyed more or less equal rights of citizenship and the white settlers had come to accept this fact. Some of the Indian immigrants, having married Malay women, had an additional sanction to identify themselves with the colonists. Nevertheless, as the number of Indians gradually increased, a consciousness regarding the danger of competition by them in the economic sphere became perceptible. This change coincided with a general decline of the earlier zeal for racial accommodation. It was conspicuously reflected in the Franchise and Ballot Act of 1892, scaling up the educational and property qualifications prescribed for the exercise of voting right.

The Coloured Agitation Committee, under the chairmanship of H.O. Ally,** sent a representation to Gladstone, the British Prime Minister at that time,

* The person who piayed an active role on this occasion was M.A. Dooraswamy Pillai, a resident of Natai since April 1883. The Indian merchants and storekeepers had subscribed generously toward the expense incurred for preparation and submission of the memorial.

** Haji Ojer Ally's father was an Indian and his mother a Malay. Able to speak Hindustani fluently, he had an equal command over Dutch and English. He took active part in public affairs. Later, for a few years he lived in the Transvaal.

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requesting him to withhold royal assent to the aforesaid law enacted by the Cape legislature. Ally also wrote to Dadabhai Naoroji who, on his part, took up the matter with great promptness. The Secretary of State for Colonies, Lord Ripon,*** on receipt of the protest felt rather unhappy about this legislation. When questioned, the Cape Government claimed that the measure was moderate and non-racial. A technically non-discriminatory law, passed by the legislature of a self-governing colony, to which the Governor had already given his assent, could not be vetoed by the British Government.

***

The Orange Free State also had attracted some indentured labourers after they were free on completion of their contract service in Natal. A few Indian merchants too had gone over and opened shops. Although their number was extremely small, the European settlers lost no time in launching an agitation against them. The Free State Government readily passed a stringent law prohibiting Indians from owning land or carrying on trade in the republic. The British Government frowned upon this legislation on the ground that 'such a proscription of one section of the settled population of a country, imposed... without any... provocation, would be contrary to the uses of civilized States.' The British High Commissioner made a protest about it, but with no result. The Free State Government's contention was that its constitution recognized the distinction between white and coloured races and that the enactment in question was of a declaratory nature emphasizing and enforcing the existing laws. In effect, the Indian traders were expelled from the republic with nominal compensation for the losses incurred by them. Only some labourers, cooks and hotel waiters were allowed to continue under special permission granted by the Government at its discretion.

***

The situation in the T ransvaal was far more complex. The first lot of Indians landed there in 1 881 . Sheth Abubakar again was the pioneer He opened a shop in Pretoria and purchased a plot of land in one of its principal streets. Many others followed suit. With gold discovered at Barberton in 1884, the republic got off to a period of boom. Immigrants started pouring in from various countries. The Indian traders had their share in the all-round prosperity. Their success excited the jealousy of European traders who started a relentless anti-Indian campaign. The Indian community could make out how things were shaping. Some of the leading persons among them went to see President Paul Kruger. He showed scant regard for the deputation and kept these people standing in

★★★

He had distinguished himself as the most liberal Viceroy of India (1880-84).

THE COMING OF INDIANS

53

the courtyard. After hearing them for a while, he said: ’You are the descendants of Ismael and therefore from your very birth bound to slave for us. As the descendants of Esau, we cannot admit you to rights placing you as our equals. You must rest content with what rights we grant you.’

President Kruger was clear in his mind that it was his duty to protect the interests of the whites. But if he was to do anything concrete about it, he had to turn to the British who, while conceding to the T ransvaal a large measure of autonomy in 1 881 in terms of the Pretoria Convention, signed before the Indians' arrival there, had made it subject to the suzerainty of Her Majesty's Government. In 1884 another agreement was reached under the London Convention which aimed at increasing the scope of self-government. This time the issue regarding British suzerainty was left vague. If the British Government was to take care of Indians in the Transvaal, it had to rely on its position as a suzerain power about which President Kruger had strong reservations. The stand taken by Britain was that the London Convention had merely amended the Pretoria Convention and that the articles not specifically altered by the later agreement were still effective. Article 14 of the London Convention (the same as article 26 of the Pretoria Convention) provided that all persons other than the African blacks, conforming to the laws of the Transvaai would be at full liberty to enter the Colony and engage in trade and industrial activity. Prima facie, Indians were covered by the guarantee contained in this clause.

The Transvaal Government's contention was that, according to the basic laws of the republic, coloured persons, a term that included Indians, were not entitled to the same treatment as whites. This gave rise to the question whether the basic laws had antecedence over the Pretoria and London Conventions. To remove whatever room there was for doubt, the Transvaai Government wanted article 14 of the London Convention to be amended. After a protracted correspondence channelled through the British High Commissioner, the Secretary of State for Colonies (Lord Derby) came round to the view that the aforesaid article 1 4 could be amended so as to allow full liberty of entry and engagement in trade and industry, etc., only to persons other than African blacks and Indian or Chinese coolie immigrants. In giving its assent to this change, the Colonial Office had been rather imprudent. It made things much worse by asking the Transvaal Government to go in for an enactment to this effect on the basis of an assurance that Her Majesty’s Government would not insist upon any such construction of the terms of the Convention as would interfere with a reasonable legislation on the proposed lines.* Behind the position thus taken by the British Government was its inherent sympathy for the white population seeking segregation of the so- called lower-class Indians and its inclination to safeguard the interests of only upper-class Indians already established in the republic.

* Despatch of March 19, 1885 from the Secretary of State for Colonies to the British High Commissioner in South Africa. Ref. Robert A. Huttenback, Op. Cit, p. 106.

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The British Government had not realised then the implications of whittling down the provisions of article 1 4 of the London Convention. The T ransvaal Government was too happy over the green signal it had received. The result was enactment of Law 3 of 1 885 excluding Asians, inclusive of the so-called coolies and Arabs from citizenship and franchise, decreeing separate locations for their residence and forbidding acquisition of landed property by them, exacting a compulsory registration fee of £25 from new immigrants wanting to settle in the republic to engage in trade or for other purposes. The law as passed by the Volksraad had, according to the British Government, gone beyond what it had agreed to, in so far as it would interfere with the rights of Indian traders already in the Transvaal, a group that it had been eager to protect. The T ransvaal Government argued back that it had legislated within the frame of reference provided by the final despatch of the Secretary of State to the High Commissioner which in responding to the proposals made by the Transvaal Government, as also the High Commissioner's covering note, had left some room for misinterpretation. Her Majesty's Government continued to insist that Law 3 should be revised. In response to this pressure, Pretoria justified the concept of locations on grounds of sanitation and public health that would suffer if the 'eastern strangers' were allowed to continue in the dwelling-places established by them in large numbers in the midst of white population.

The British Government found it expedient to extricate itself from an embarrassing situation by agreeing to the need for preserving adequate standards of sanitation to be made the rationale for the establishment of locations.

The amendment to Law 3 made in 1 886 met the above requirement by inserting the words 'for purposes of sanitation' in the clauses empowering the Government to assign to the Asians certain streets, wards and locations to live in and to exclude them from acquiring fixed property elsewhere. The latter part of it was not to have retrospective effect. The registration fee for new entrants, according to this amendment, was reduced from 25 to £ 3.

The British Government persuaded itself into acceptance of Law 3 as amended. But when the Transvaal Government came to its implementation it proceeded on the basis that Asians must both reside and trade in special locations outside municipal limits. The Colonial Office felt perturbed at this renewed attempt to drive out the established Indian traders. In its minute of November 26, 1888, besides criticising the Transvaal Government's faulty interpretation, it went on to flay the British High Commissioner himself: 'Sir H. Robinson seems to... take the matter too coolly, and in his friendship for the Boers to forget that these people [the Indian traders] have claims to our protection as British subjects.' Soon he was replaced by Sir Henry Loch who forcefully put it across to the Pretoria regime that Law 3 referred only to locations for residential purposes and that Indians could, therefore, continue to conduct business in the towns.

THE COMING OF INDIANS

55

He also claimed that Law 3 implied that the locations to be assigned for Indians to reside would be within, rather than outside, the municipalities.

The legality of the T ransvaal Government's interpretation of Law 3 was tested when the firm of Ismail Suleiman approached the High Court in August 1 888 for an injunction to the Middleburg municipality to give it a licence to trade. The court upheld the Government's view and gave a ruling that under Law 3 the Indians were required to maintain their business as well as residence in the locations. The Transvaal administration was, however, slow in implementing the new law. it did not like to offend the British Government. But it was under severe pressure from the Volksraad, faithfully representing the sentiment of white population in general, for early implementation of Law 3. This legislative body had passed resolutions in 1 888, 1 889 and 1 890 urging the executive to take prompt action. Yet the Government did not step up its pace, thus straining the legislature's patience.

The expulsion of Indian traders from the Orange Free State and the anti-Asiatic legislation in the Transvaal could not but scare the entire Indian trading community in South Africa. The well-to-do merchants having their principal base in Durban, with smaller branches spread elsewhere, could see that what was happening in the Boer republics would in due course overtake them in Natal as well: hence the realisation that if they were to survive in this foreign land they must get together and seek help from all quarters. That is how the Durban Indian Committee came into existence in the beginning of

1891. The first move made at the instance of this body, was representation of the Natal-based Indian traders' case to the Governor of Bombay. This petition dated July 9, 1891, signed by certain merchants and other residents of Bombay, passing through a long official channel, ultimately reached Whitehall and resulted in the Secretary of State for Colonies taking up the matter with the Government of Natal.

Some effect had also been produced by the telegrams sent by the Indian merchants in Durban and Pretoria to Dadabhai Naoroji (in England at that time), the Colonial Office, Prime Minister Gladstone and even Queen Victoria. In October

1892, they went on to address a memorial to Lord Ripon, Secretary of State for Colonies, known for his sympathetic attitude towards the people of India.* The oppression to which the indentured and ex-indentured Indians were subject had also figured in the representations made. The merchants, however, saw to it that the authorities in Natal dealt with them as a distinct group of British subjects not to be clubbed with the Indian labourers. What happened was that the Natal Government, on hearing from the Secretary of State, had in a routine way referred the

* See Maureen Swan, Gandhi - The South African Experience (Johannesburg, 1985) pp38-43. She has studied in good detail the Indian merchants' political activity before Gandhi's arrival in the subcontinent. She also refers to a printed pamphlet on Indian grievances that had been got out towards the end of 1892. In June 1893 a second pamphlet which dealt exclusively with the Orange Free State had been sent to the Colonial Office.

t>6

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

matter to the Protector of Indian immigrants. As the specific responsibility of the latter official was to look after the affairs connected with the indentured Indians, who according to common belief were in a state of semi-slavery, the Indian Committee had smelt the risk it would be running if it were to explain the merchants' part of the case to him and, therefore, refused to do so, whereupon the Government had to agree to deal with them directly.

All that the Indian merchants wanted was to 'salvage what they could from the Orange Free State... to prevent a further deterioration of the situation in the Transvaal, and to make it impossible for Natal to move in the same direction as the two republics.' One indirect aim of the protests made was to discourage the Imperial Government from undue haste in the grant of responsible government to Natal which, it was felt, would bring in its wake discriminatory legislation in the Colony similar to that already enacted in the Boer republics. Ultimately the only gain that accrued was the creation of a general consciousness at least in the Colonial Office that the two-fold problem of Indians in South Africa, one part relating to the indentured labourers and the second concerning those engaged in trade and other professions as free persons, were required to be handled in the coming years with care.

This limited political activity may not have done much good. Yet it was a sign of the awakening, howsoever feeble, that the Indian elite had undergone in reaction to the widespread white prejudice against them. Whatever experience they had gained should have been sufficient to bring home the need of a political body more cohesively organized than the loosely structured Indian Committee. More than that, they should have realised what a handicap it was to have no one amongst them who could play a key role in the handling of political issues and how awful it was to be entirely dependent on the European lawyers for this purpose. Strangely, they did not make any conscious effort to overcome this difficulty and circumstances having no connection with this matter providentially brought Gandhi on the scene. As the subsequent events were to prove, the right man had come to South Africa at the right stage.

Sheth Abdullah's attorney In Pretoria, A.W. Baker, as much of a lawyer as missionary, was to be in dose contact with Gandhi tor several months, not only in professional work, but in matters concerning religion also. The very first time they met, Baker had ascertained the young Indian’s religious views. His spontaneous reply was: 'i am a Hindu by birth. And yet I do not know much of Hinduism. I know less of other religions. In fact I do not know where i stand, and what is and what should be my belief. I intend to make a careful study of my own religion and, as far as I can, of other religions as well.' No wonder, Baker sensed in Gandhi a potential convert to Christianity. He immediately made it known to him that he was the local head of the South African General Mission and that he had built, at his own expense, a church where he delivered sermons regularly. Lest the person he was talking to should have any misgivings, he put across in plain words that he was free from colour prejudice and then went on to add: 'I have some co-workers, and we meet at one o'clock every day for a few minutes and pray for peace and light. S shall be glad if you will join us there. ! shall introduce you to my associates who will be happy to meet you, and S dare say you will also like their company.

\ shall give you, besides, some religious books to read, though of course the book of books is the Holy Bible, which I would specially recommend to you.' Gandhi thanked him and agreed to attend the afternoon prayers.

The conversation that had taken place between him and Baker left Gandhi pondering over the matter. He was unable to understand so deep an interest on Baker's part in his beliefs. What bewildered him was the thought of exposing himself to Christian influence before having made a serious attempt to understand the religion to which he already belonged. After a good deal of deliberation he could see that there should be no question of identifying oneself with another religious order before understanding one's own faith. The next day when Gandhi joined Baker and his group at the prayer meeting, he knelt down to pray just as others present were doing. On this occasion, to the usual prayer was added a special supplication: 'Lord, show the path to the new brother who has come amongst us. May the Lord Jesus, who has saved us, save him too.' The daily prayer did not take more than five minutes and after it was over they used to disperse for lunch.

The prayer meetings enabled Gandhi to know some good Christians. One of them was Michael Coates, a Quaker staunch in his faith but

58

GANDHI — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

extremely amiable. They did not take long to be friendly with each other. They would go for long walks together. Coates often took him to his other Christian friends, some of them very noble and God-fearing persons. He also made available to Gandhi a number of books to read. Every Sunday they discussed whatever the latter had read during the preceding week.

Coates had a strong desire to act as a healthy influence on his Indian friend. One day he asked Gandhi to take off the string of beads he wore around his neck. He insisted that this superstition did not befit a person like him. The latter argued back that his late mother had given it to him out of love and in the conviction that it would be conducive to his welfare; he could not therefore discard it. He conceded, however, that when in due course it wore away he would not have a new one.

Gandhi could see Coates as well as Baker and the other Christian friends trying hard to stimulate his interest in their religion and get him round to accepting it as the only pathway to salvation. About this time, he came in contact with a family belonging to the Plymouth Brethren, a Christian sect opposed to an elaborate order of priesthood. Someone amongst them argued:

1 1 .

You cannot understand the beauty of our religion. From what you say it appears that you must be brooding over your transgressions every moment of your life, always mending them and atoning for them...

You can never have peace... as we believe in the atonement of Jesus, our own sins do not bind us. Sin we must. It is impossible to live in this world sinless. And therefore Jesus suffered and atoned for all the sins of mankind. Only he who accepts His great redemption can have eternal peace. Think what a life of restlessness is yours, and what a promise of peace we have.

This argument did not at all appeal to Gandhi. His reply was utterly simple and direct. He did not seek redemption from the consequences of sin. What he wanted was riddance from sin itself, or rather from the very thought of sin. Until he had attained that end, he would be content to remain restless.

Baker's next step was to take his Indian colleague to the Wellington Convention, a major gathering organized by the Protestants. The convention lasted for three days. Gandhi felt moved by the spirit of religious exaltation prevailing there. He also saw that many were praying for him. This fact only made him more circumspect, though earlier he had told Baker that he had an open mind and that he would not hesitate to embrace Christianity if he got a call to that effect from inside. The more he listened to enunciations of the central Christian idea of atonement for the sins of all by Jesus Christ's crucifixion, the more unflinching was his refusal to accept that salvation could be attained only by becoming a Christian.

While Baker and others were wanting Gandhi to adopt Christianity, his

HE FEELS HIS WAY

59

Muslim friends were making an effort to impress him with the purity of their own religion. Enlightened by them on the strong points of Islam, Gandhi had the curiosity to know more about it. For this purpose he studied some books on the subject, including a translation of the Holy Koran.

It was because of his spirit of inquiry that he did not get swayed by the influences he was exposed to. As he could see, neither Christianity nor Islam was a perfect religion. The same thing could be said about Hinduism too. He considered untouchability as its most reprehensible feature. Another question that arose in his mind was: 'What was the meaning of saying that the Vedas were the inspired word of God? If they were inspired, why not also the Bible and the Koran?' Gandhi was finding it difficult to get at the heart of reality. In this state of uncertainty, he thought of Raychandbhai in whom he had found a truly religious person, driven by a genuine passion for truth. He wrote to him about his predicament. The reply he received from him poured balm on his troubled mind. The essence of what he told him was to be patient and to study Hinduism more deeply which would help him understand its subtleties and imbibe its charity which he may not find in any other religion. Although Raichandra himself was a Jain, never did he try to draw his firend toward Jainism as such. His emphasis was on the primacy of good conduct which included ahimsa and self-restraint.

Gandhi had also written to his friends in England. Edward Maitland, a former theosophist, who had been introduced to Gandhi by Josiah Oldfield (editor of The Vegetarian), sent him two of his books: The Perfect Way — The Finding of Christ* and The New Gospel of Interpretation. Gandhi studied both with great interest and came to see Christianity as well as Hinduism in a new light. The book that produced the deepest impression on him was Tolstoy's** The Kingdom of God Is Within you. After reading it, he could grasp the true spirit of the Sermon on the Mount and its relevance to present- day life. It brought home to him that one could seek real fulfilment by doing what is right, by loving all, and by freeing oneself from the evils of greed, lust, anger and violence.

Gandhi continued his correspondence with Raychandbhai and Edward Maitland. His thinking was gradually taking a direction completely different

* This was one of a series of books jointly written by Edward Maitland and Anna Kihgsford. The latter, herself an ardent vegetarian, was a person of considerable literary acumen. Both of them had a mystical bent of mind. The Hermetic Society, established by them, aimed at bringing about a new world order.

** Leo Tolstoy was one of the leading lights of late-1 9th-century Russia. An aristocrat by birth and upbringing, he had diverse interests — one of them, creative writing — in the earlier part of his life. He became renowned as a novelist on publication of his two great master¬ pieces, War and Peace and Anna Karenina. When he was at the zenith of his reputation as a writer, around the time he was 50, he became dissatisfied with himself and his way of life. This spiritual crisis turned him into a moral thinker and a Christian anarchist. The twists and turns that had been experienced by his soul since his childhood and youth were set out by him in A Confession (1879) . He spelt out his changed thinking in whatever books and pamphlets he wrote from this point onward. The most important of his works during this phase was The Kingdom of God Is Within you.

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GANDH! — ORDAINED IN SOUTH AFRICA

from what his Christian friends at Pretoria had intended. He, however, always felt beholden to them for having awakened in him a desire to remove his doubts, which helped him take command of himself and gain footholds from which he could have a wider view of things.

***

Even while Gandhi was engaged in anxious pursuit of spiritual inquiry, he lost no time in taking his first steps toward giving practical shape to his thoughts about associating himself with public work. Sheth Tyeb Haji Khan, defendant in the lawsuit that had brought Gandhi to Pretoria, held here an important position within the Indian trading community comparable to that of Sheth Abdulla in Durban. Gandhi got in touch with him soon after his arrival and with his help arranged for a meeting of the Indian residents in the city. His address to this gathering was the first public speech of his life. He laid stress on high standards of integrity in business. The Indian traders, according to him, had special responsibility in this respect because their conduct would determine the esteem in which ail their countrymen in South Africa would be held. He also emphasized the importance of proper attention to sanitation. Another point he stressed was the necessity to overcome their regional and sectarian prejudices. The hard-headed businessmen could have laughed ala sermon like this from a young newcomer but for the fact that behind what he said there was a sincerity of purpose that nobody could doubt. Gandhi's earnestness produced the right impression on the gathering, and a few participants lustily backed him up. For his own part, he felt that some knowledge of English was necessary for living among English-speaking people and announced his readiness to hold a class for those interested in learning the language. There were only three persons who chose to take advantage of his offer — a clerk, a shopkeeper and a barber. Gandhi took the trouble of going to their respective places of work to coach them. The first two were able to make good progress and It helped them in their vocations. The third one, as was his wish, picked up only a little bit to be able to deal with his customers. This gesture on Gandhi's part was an evidence of his capacity for taking pains to help his compatriots.

Encouraged by what transpired at the first meeting, the participants had decided to meet at short intervals. These meetings became a regular feature of the Indian community life in the city. The idea was to create a forum to discuss matters of common interest freely. Gandhi, himself playing an active role, came to know most of the Indians in Pretoria. After some time, he established contact with the British Agent stationed there. The latter was quite sympathetic to the indian cause although there was little that he could do. Acquaintance with him provided Gandhi an opportunity to go through some of the papers relating to the Indian problem and understand it better.

HE FEELS HIS WAY

61

Resentment about the difficulties that the Indians had to face while travelling by train stiil fresh in his mind, Gandhi wrote to the concerned railway authorities on this subject. The crux of his argument was that the treatment meted out was in violation of the regulations as they stood. He received a letter in reply stating that first and second-class tickets would be issued to Indians who were properly dressed. What a criterion! Its application entirely depended on the whims of the railway officials.

The inconvenience that the Indians had to suffer during rail journeys was an extension of the denial of civil liberties in general. For example, under the regulations in force, Africans and Asians were not allowed to walk on public footpaths or move about in the streets after 9 p.m. without a permit. The enforcement of this rule, as far as Indians were concerned, was somewhat erratic. The so-called Arabs amongst them were de facto exempted, but it was at the discretion of police officials. This exemption, however, could not have been applicable to Gandhi who often went out late at night for a walk along with Michael Coates. The latter felt anxious that it would be very embarrassing if the police at any time arrested his Indian friend. To get over the difficulty, they went over to F.E.T. Krause appointed about that time as the Public Prosecutor. He happened to be Gandhi's contemporary as a law student in London and was good enough