Rajchandra and Mahatma Gandhi

[Prof. Dr. Yogendra Yadav]

Prof. Dr. Yogendra Yadav

Senior Gandhian Scholar, Professor, Editor and Linguist

Gandhi International Study and Research Institute, Jalgaon, Maharashtra, India

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Rajchandra and Mahatma Gandhi  

 

I wish to refresh your memory. You may have forgotten the occasion, but I have not. After my return from England, we had met in the Premabhai Hall in Ahmadabad to celebrate the birth anniversary of this illustrious person. I had said then that, if we continued our disorderly noises, far from adoring the great man to respect whom we had gathered, we would be profaning his name. After this, with some difficulty people were made to keep quiet for a while. Much water has flowed down the Sabarmati River since then. We, too, have gone through many experiences, both sweet and bitter, and have learnt to some extent the lesson of keeping order at meetings. It is one of the simplest rules of civilized behaviour to arrive at a meeting in time and not to leave one’s seat till it ends. If I may say the same thing with reference to our subject today, this rule is the first lesson in the path of compassion. We must suffer inconvenience ourselves so that others may be comfortable. It is licence, not discipline, to act upon the impulse of the moment without pausing to consider how our action may affect others in the world. Such behaviour argues the satanic temperament, not the godly. It is the satanic way to embrace disorder as order.

Where it is all noise and no consideration or respect for anyone, it is the satanic way which the people follow. We cannot point to one specific mark through which we may recognize an action as being Satanic. Every action is prompted by mixed-motives. An action which springs from restlessness in the heart and creates the very image of restlessness should be regarded as characteristic of the satanic way. I stand first, these days, in using the word “Satanic”. Not that I am enamored of it. The world may imagine that I am, but my conscience tells me that I am prompted by nothing but compassion in using it. There is no hatred and no anger behind it. I describe things as I see them. In this, I merely follow the way of compassion. Today’s occasion is twice welcome as affording an opportunity for reflection over the meaning of compassion. We revere the person for honouring whose memory we have gathered here. I, too, rank myself among his adorers. A critic can never be this. This is, therefore, not the place for skeptics.

Even such persons may attend in a spirit of humility to get their doubts resolved. If, however, the motive is to find food for one’s scepticism, the rule of civilized behaviour requires that one should leave this place. Everyone in the world should have freedom. The sceptic should certainly have a place where he can be himself, but likewise the devotee or the worshipper, too, should have a place where he can go ahead with his work undisturbed by criticism. I assume, therefore, that only those who love the poet and hold him in reverence have come to this meeting. It is to these persons that I say that today’s occasion is twice welcome. The man in whose hallowed memory we have gathered here was the living embodiment of this religion of compassion. He understood it well and had perfected it in his life. This same compassion inspires our present activities in the country. It is not anger which prompts them. The situation as it has developed has given us sufficient reason to be angry and has hurt us deeply. But, even at this unhappy hour we pause and think how we may act so as not to hurt the opponents; how, on the contrary, we may do a good turn even to them. Non-co-operation springs from compassion and not from anger.

Afraid that we may be in the wrong, we refuse to be angry with the opponent and, instead, ourselves flee from him. This certainly leads to serious results. Those persons or institutions against which we employ non-co-operation are indeed hurt by our action, but the religion of compassion does not teach that we may never hurt anyone. That is not the meaning of compassion I have learnt from the Poet. True compassion lies in doing what is good or performing our duty even at the cost of inflicting pain on others through our action. I have often declared that I have learnt, and learnt much, from the lives of many persons. But it is from the Poet’s life that I have learnt most. It was from his life that I understood the way of compassion. There can be no act which will not hurt the feelings of someone or another, but the pain must have been inflicted out of compassion. Two conditions have to be satisfied for this purpose:

1. We can do something which hurts someone only if it hurts us more than it hurts him.

2. Our motive must be absolutely pure. We should have no other thought in our mind than the welfare of the other person. Let us suppose that my son is a drink-addict and a smoker and is given to dissolute ways. He asked me for some money. Till now I used to give him whatever he asked for, because I was a blind father. From my association with Raychandbhai, however, I learnt that not only should I myself not drink and smoke and live an immoral life, but that I must save others too from these things. It is, therefore, my duty to refuse to give a penny to my son, even to snatch away a wine-glass from his hand if I see him holding one. If I come to know that he keeps his liquors in a particular chest, I must burn it. If I see a wine bottle, I must smash it.

The son will certainly hurt, and he will look upon me as a heartless father. But a father who understands the meaning of compassion is not afraid of hurting his son or of being cursed by him. The way of compassion and benevolence dictates that, in such circumstances, one should snatch away the wine-bottle from the son’s hand. I would not do this forcibly but, if I come to know that he keeps his liquor bottle at a particular place in the house, I would seize it from there and smash it. Raychandbhai suggested an excellent rule of guidance in following this way, that we may not displease others in ordinary matters, may not start reproaching people over trifles in the name of the path of compassion. If we understand this simple rule, many things, which otherwise puzzle us, we would do out of deference to others. It may be I do not understand why we should wear khadi and am in love with fine muslin; but, then, it happens that in the society in which I live all wear khadi, and we commit no wrong in wearing it. I should, then, follow society. Raychandbhai taught me this simple rule.

Once, in Bombay, we were discussing the path of compassion. The point was whether one may use leather. In the end, we both agreed that we cannot do without leather. Professions like agriculture must go on. However, if we cannot do without it altogether, we should certainly refrain from wearing on the head anything containing leather. I have always been a man who would not miss a chance for a jest. I asked him to examine the cap on his head. He was a man ever wrapped in contemplation and never thought about what he wore and how he covered himself. The fact that there was a leather-strip in his cap had entirely escaped him. But as soon as I pointed it out, he tore the piece off. I don’t suppose that my argument was so cogent that it convinced him instantly. He did not argue at all. He simply thought that my motive was good and that I held him in reverence. So why should he enter into an argument with me? All he did was quietly to pull out the leather-strip and I am sure he never again thereafter wore any head-dress containing leather. Even if, however, somebody tells me that he actually saw the Poet wearing such a cap after that, I would not be hurt. If I had occasion to mention the thing to him again, he would have immediately torn off the piece of leather. It might have remained through over sight. In this lies the greatness of great souls. Such behaviour shows that they are free from egotism. They are ready to learn even from children. It is the characteristic of great men not to mind difference of views in small matters. To those who, in the name of the religion of compassion, always differ with others in every small matter and claim to be guided the voice of conscience, I would say that they hear no such voice, or that, as in animals, the atman in them is not yet awake. This is so with most of us.

The difference between man and the brute is that in the former, the atman can wake up to the full. If we follow the world in ninety-nine things, in regard to the hundredth thing we may tell it that its way is not right. But how cans a man who is at daggers drawn with the world from his birth can act with love for the world? In most cases, we should behave as though we were inert things. The difference between wholly inert matter and living matter as practically nil. The entire world seems to be inert matter, the atman shines but rarely. Those who live on a higher plane act on this principle. I saw that Raychandbhai did this. Had he been living today, he would have certainly blessed the present movement. It is based on dharma. No man who is imbued with compassion can but join it.

The movement is sure to produce excellent effects in the political, economic and other spheres. But the happiest result will be that it will have saved many persons and made some fit for moksha. If we do not discover this by the end of the year, life will become unbearable to me. Raychandbhai often used to say that he could bear being transfixed with spears, but could not bear being stabbed with the spear of the lies, the hypocrisies and the oppression which prevail in the world and of irreligion masquerading as religion. He was full of indignation over oppression and I often saw him boil over. The whole world was his kith and kin. The grief which we feel at the death of our own brother or sister, he used to experience at the existence of suffering and death in the world. If somebody argued that the people suffered for their own sins, he would ask what drove them to sin. We call the time the Age of Kali when the path of virtue is not easy but lies through hills and valleys. During this Age, virtue is a; rare sight in the world and vice flourishes, masquerading as virtue. If, in such a state of affairs, we wish to follow the path of compassion, our hearts must be filled with unendurable pain. Far better, we should feel that the body should become feeble and perish than that we should go on living in these conditions. This seems to me the real reason why Raychandbhai died at such an early age. It is true indeed that he suffered from a disease, but the pain he felt at the sight of suffering in the world was unbearable to him. If the physical disease had been the only cause, he could have won the battle against it.

But he was troubled with the thought how in these-evil times one could realize the atman. Such a feeling is an indication of the spirit of compassion. It is not the height of compassion to avoid killing a bug. True, a bug may not be destroyed, but, at the same time, one should see that one does not permit bugs to breed. Letting them breed is crueler than destroying them. All of us let them breed. Jains do that and so do I, a Vaishnava. We do not know cleanliness. When we go on adding to our possessions, we do not think of the consequences. What else put breeding [of bugs] can we expect from accumulation of unnecessary things? It is indeed a form of compassion not to kill insects such as bugs and mosquitoes. But the refusal to kill a human being is the higher form of it.

What should we do when we are forced to choose between killing a human being and destroying a bug? Circumstances may possibly arise in which it may be our duty to save a bug at the cost of human life. But the other way about is also possible. I am suggesting a way which will save us from either of these contingencies. This is the true spirit of compassion. The Poet used to say at times: “Had Jainism not fallen into the hands of those who are called Jains, it would have filled the world with marvel at its truths. The Banias bring discredit on the truths of Jainism. They scatter corn over ant-hills. If any preparation of potato chances to get into their mouth, they feel prices of conscience. In such small matters, they are ever punctilious. They are welcome to be so, but those who imagine that this is the height of Jainism really stand on the lowest level of dharma.

That level is for the fallen, not for the pure in heart.” Many Jains, therefore, say that Rajchandra knew nothing about dharma, that he was a hypocrite and an egotist. I know, however, that he had not a trace of hypocrisy and egotism. Though it is true that bugs and other insects should not be killed, that is not all that the spirit of compassion means. That is only the first step. During some past age, the belief must have come to prevail that there was no sin in destroying insects to save human life. A sage may have then arisen who must have laid stress on protection of insects and proclaimed: “O fool! Do not destroy insects for preserving the transient body. Pray fervently, rather, that it may perish today rather than tomorrow.” From this sentiment arose ahimsa. But the man who beats his wife or child, though he shrinks from killing a tiny bug, is not a Jain, nor a Hindu, nor a Vaishnava. He is a cipher. On this sacred day of the Poet’s anniversary, let us give up the narrow meaning of compassion and interpret the word in the broadest sense. It is a sin to hurt the feelings of a single person or to regard him as an enemy. Anyone who wants to see General Dyer hanged, or Sir Michael O’Dwyer burnt alive, is neither a Jain, nor a Vaishnava, nor a Hindu. He is nobody and nothing. The very essence of ahimsa lies in burning our anger and in cleansing the soul. Who am I to judge General Dyer? I know that I am myself full of ill will. How many persons I may be murdering in my mind! What right has I to judge General Dyer? I have, therefore, resolved not to retaliate if anyone attacks me with a sword. This is the path of compassion and the underlying principle of the non-co-operation movement. But in my speeches I do not mention the word “compassion”. I am talking about it today because this is the anniversary celebration of Shrimad Rajchandra.

I know that the result of this movement will be to spread the spirit of compassion. When that result follows, people will recognize it by themselves. There is greater sin in killing a serpent or a tiger in a human form than in killing a real serpent. We kill a tiger out of fear, not in anger. If there really is a Dharmaraja who judges our sins and good deeds, he will perhaps have pity on the person who may have killed a tiger and forgive him, because he will have only followed the natural instinct of the beast in him. One beast will have killed another. But behind the murder of a human being, there is the spirit of revenge and anger, of pride and hypocrisy. Dharmaraja will say: “You fool! What endless scheming and swindling must have preceded the murder?” I tell Jains and others too, that compassion does not merely mean not killing bugs, ants and other insects, though certainly they should not be killed. It also means that no soul born as a human being must be cheated. And yet what else do the businessmen do? If any Jain would show his account books to me, I would immediately prove that he was no Jain. How the cloth in which we trade is produced? Dealers ought to consider whether the manufacture of cloth is not tainted, whether it is not true that animal fat is used in sizing cloth. It must be, besides, repugnant to businessmen to charge exorbitant rates of interest. This is not worthily done by a Jain. Dealers may reasonably add to the cost of an article one pice or two pice for their services But why all this cunning haggling and lying? And the interest which is charged for money lent is so cruelly high that it kills the debtor. Wherever I go, I hear complaints against Banias, both Jains and Vaishnavas. Many whites ask me to see first what excessive rates of interest our own people charge. We must cease to be unscrupulous Banias and become Kshatriyas.

The Vaisya’s dharma does not mean doing no manual work, no ploughing, no heroism and no consideration for right and wrong. The true Vaisya, rather, shows him heroic in his generosity and discrimination in his business; he follows the Brahmin’s dharma, too, by exercising his discrimination and deciding that he may not sell liquor or fish that he may deal only in pure khadi. We shall fall into sin if others slave for us and we merely lend money and earn interest. At least by way of yajna, we should do some bodily labour every day. Primarily, the Banias sphere is business, but he must also possess the qualities of the other castes. If I should have to engage a Kabuli or a Pathan to protect my wife, it would be better, though I am a Hindu that I should divorce her and set her free. But what do we find many Banias doing? Most of them have engaged North Indians and Pathans as watchmen. You may do even that; I do not mind it. If, however, you lack the strength to protect your wife and children, you had better retire into a hermit’s cottage and live there as befits your dharma. It will not, then, be your duty, as Banias, to come forward to protect the world. The Kshatriyas will do that whenever and wherever they find people suffering. The biggest lesson I learnt from Rajchandrabhai’s life is that a Bania should always live as befits a Vania.

At present Banias are not true Banias. It is not necessary, for becoming true Banias, to be a great pundit or read bulky volumes. Anyone who does not let himself be defiled, who observes the rules of yama and niyama, who keeps away from untruth and takes care never to do anything contrary to dharma, who has not a trace of lust in his heart and is full of the spirit of compassion, such a person will be fit for the Absolute state; the realization of that state will not be beyond his reach. That is why I do not ask you to learn Sanskrit or to read the Bhagavata-sutra. Whether or not you read it, I am indifferent in the matter As early as when the anniversary was celebrated in Wadhwan, it was resolved that a library with the name of “Rajchandra Pustakalaya” should be started. There was a proposal for constructing a special building for it. I did not, at that time, show much enthusiasm for the idea. I told the people that, without a soul, the building would be a mere structure of brick and mortar. Today the three-year-old resolve has borne fruit. The circumstances are favourable. We have a worthy man like Jinavijayji to help us. The library of the Puratattya Mandir has also been amalgamated [with this]. Its benefit will be freely available to whosoever takes the trouble to go there. Please carry home with you what you heard here today and translate it into practice in your life. You may leave here what seemed to you questionable, but forthwith start acting upon whatever you found acceptable, what pleased your ears and your heart.

 

Reference:

Navajivan, 24-11-1921