For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment

Basanti Devi and Mahatma Gandhi

Prof. Dr. Yogendra Yadav

Senior Gandhian Scholar, Professor, Editor and Linguist

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

Contact No. – 09404955338, 09415777229

E-mail- dr.yadav.yogendra@gandhifoundation.net;

dr.yogendragandhi@gmail.com

Mailing Address- C- 29, Swaraj Nagar, Panki, Kanpur- 208020, Uttar Pradesh, India

Basanti Devi and Mahatma Gandhi

Basanti Devi was a close associate of Mahatma Gandhi. He did many satyagraha in guidance of Mahatma Gandhi. Please tell Basanti Devi to send her first quota of yarn to me. I want thirty days’ collection made into strands of 100 yards each nicely and neatly. Nothing but first class work will be accepted from the Mayoress of Calcutta. 1 But my keenest joy was to see Shrimati Basanti Devi Das learning spinning and taking a vow religiously to spin every day for at least half an hour except in cases of illness. Her daughter knew it already. But she had neglected it. She has now returned to it and added spinning by the takli which she picked in ten minutes. Shrimati Urmila Devi and her children have been spinning regularly for some time now. And Deshbandhu himself took lessons on the takli. But he finds spinning harder than giving defeats to the Government or winning cases for clients. “My husband can hardly turn the key of his box right; I have always to help him”, pleaded Basanti Devi on behalf of her husband. “You can, therefore, understand why it is so difficult for him to learn spinning.” But Deshbandhu has assured me that he is going to insist on learning spinning. He had lessons in spinning at the wheel in Patna. They were interrupted by his illness. He told me that he thoroughly believed in the charkha and wanted to help it in every way possible. It was a perfect pleasure to me to see the whole house-hold of the Mayor of Calcutta plying the charkha in fashionable Darjeeling creating a charkha atmosphere there. Needless to say, they were all dressed in khaddar. For Deshbandhu khaddar is not ceremonial wear. It is habitual with him. He tells me it would be difficult for him to revert to the foreign or mill-made cloth even if he wished to. 2

Some years ago I described my meeting with the late Ramabai Ranade. I had known her as an ideal widow. This time Fate has decreed that I should describe a great hero’s wife beginning to lead a widow’s life. I have known Basanti Devi since the year 1919. I came closer to her in 1921. I had heard a great deal about her goodness, her intelligence and her hospitality, and also had some experience of them. As I drew closer to Deshbandhu in Darjeeling, so did I to Basanti Devi. In her widowhood, I have come much closer to her. I have been practically by her side from the day they came from Darjeeling to Calcutta with Deshbandhu’s body. My first meeting with her as a widow was in her son-in-law’s house. She sat surrounded by a number of women. In the old days, as soon as I entered the house she herself would come out to receive and welcome me. Now that she was a widow, who would talk to me? I had to recognize her in the midst of all those women sitting as still as statues. For a minute, my eyes searched for her. Vermilion at the parting of the hair, tika on the forehead, betel-leaf in the mouth, bangles on the wrists, a bordered sari and a smiling face—without any of these signs how could I recognize Basanti Devi?

I went and sat where I thought she should be and scanned the face. The sight was too much. Yes, I recognized the face. I found it difficult to keep back my tears, let alone hardening my heart and offering consolation. Where was today the usual smile on her face? I tried in many ways to console her, to cheer her up and make her speak. After a long time I succeeded a little. Devi smiled faintly. That gave me courage and I said, “You cannot weep. If you do, others also will weep. We have quietened Mona (elder daughter) with the utmost difficulty. As for Baby (younger daughter) you know her condition. Sujata (daughter-in-law) has been crying uncontrollably and has barely stopped. You should have compassion on these. We want you to do many things yet.” The brave woman replied with great firmness of mind: “I will not weep. How can I, when tears don’t come?” I understood what this meant and was satisfied. Crying lightens the heart. But this bereaved sister did not want to lighten her grief. She wanted to bear the burden. So, why should she weep? How could I say, now: “Come, let us brother and sister weep and pour out our grief to each other?”

A Hindu widow is an image of suffering. She has taken upon herself the misery of the world. She has learnt to find happiness in suffering, has accepted suffering as sacred. Basanti Devi had no objection to eating any type of food. In the period of her life up to 1920, all manner of delicacies were cooked in her kitchen and hundreds of people feasted in her house. She could not go without pan even for an hour. A box containing betel-leaves was always to be found with her. And, now, she has given up all adornment, given up betel-leaves, sweet dishes and meat and fish too. All the time, her thoughts are fixed on her husband and on God. I plead with many women to pay less attention to adorning their person, ask many of them to give up addictions. Rarely does any give up these things. But think what a widow does? The moment a Hindu woman becomes a widow, she gives up addictions and lays aside jewellery and other adornments as the snake casts off its slough. She needs neither persuasion nor help from anyone for doing that. Is there anything which custom does not make easy? Is it a virtue or a sin to suffer in this way? We do not find this practice among the followers of any other religion. Could the authors of the Hindu Shastras have made a mistake? When I see Basanti Devi, I do not think they have; I see in the practice the purest spirit of dharma.

The widow’s manner of life is the glory of Hinduism. Let the world say what it will, the life of dharma has its glory in renunciation, not in enjoyment. But what is that widow’s life which the Hindu Shastras admire and praise? Certainly not that of the fifteen-year-old girl who does not know evens the meaning of marriage. For a girl married and widowed in childhood, a widow’s life means not virtue, but sin. If the god of love should himself try to tempt Basanti Devi, he would be burnt to ashes. Basanti Devi has a third eye, like Siva’s. But what does a fifteen-year-old girl know about the beauty of widowhood? For her, such a life is cruelty. In the increasing number of such widows, I see the destruction of Hinduism. In women like Basanti Devi leading the customary life of widows, I see a source of strength for dharma. There is no inviolable law that in all circumstances, in all places and at all times a widow must remain a widow and lead a widow’s life. This is a dharma only for a woman who can follow it. It is good to swim in the waters of tradition, but to sink in them is suicide.

There should be the same rule for men as for women. Rama acted in this manner. He could not bear separation from Sita, whom he had sent away. He himself sent her away and yet suffered for what he had done. After she had left, he gradually lost the light and power which was his. He abandoned Sita physically, but installed her as the queen of his heart. From that time onwards, he felt no interest in dressing himself well or in other kingly pleasures. He attended, disinterestedly, to the affairs of his kingdom as a matter of duty and lived a peaceful life. Hinduism will remain imperfect as long as men do not accept suffering as Basanti Devi did and, like her, withdraw their interest from the pleasures of this life. Sweets to the one and thorns to the other— such perverted justice can never be, and is not, acceptable in God’s court. But among the Hindus at present, disregarding the divine law, men have ordained perpetual widowhood for women and conferred on themselves the right to fix marriage with another partner, on the cremation-ground itself. Basanti Devi has not till now shed a drop of tear in anyone’s presence. Even then, the light on her face has not returned. It seems as dull as if she had recovered from a long illness. Seeing her in this condition, I requested her to go out with me for a little fresh air.

She did come along with me and sat in the car but did not speak a word. I talked about many things. She listened, but hardly said anything in reply. She had a drive, but felt miserable afterwards. She could not sleep the whole night. “Cursed that I am, I enjoyed today what was so dear to me. Is this all that my grief comes to?” She spent the whole night in such thoughts. Bhombal (her son) came and told me about this. Today is my silence day. I simply wrote on a piece of paper: “We must cure mother of this madness. There are many things which our beloved one may have loved and which we have no choice but to do. Mother did not have a drive for enjoyment; she had it for the sake of her health. She was in great need of fresh air. We must strengthen her and take care of her health. We must keep her alive so that we may be worthy of the legacy of Father’s work and carry it forward. Convey this to Mother.” He said: “Mother had asked me not to tell you this. But I could not help telling you; so I have come. It would be better if, for some time, you did not ask her to go out in a car.” Poor Bhombal!

He who would not be controlled by anyone, God bless him, has become today as meek as a lamb. But what should we think about this good widow? Widow-hood may be cherished but it appears unbearable. Sudhanva kept dancing in the cauldron of boiling oil but a person like me, watching the scene, would tremble with the thought of his agony. May chaste and virtuous women ever cling to their suffering? Their suffering is not suffering, but happiness. Thinking of them, many have found deliverance and many more will find it in future. Jai Basanti Devi! 3 Urmila Devi gives me a chapter of sorrows. She tells me that Justice Das had serious heart trouble, that Money is ailing and losing strength and that Bhaskar is dangerously ill. You know that my sympathies are all with you. What is the matter with Bhaskar? Do please let me have a line. How are you yourself keeping? Do tell me everything about Bhombal. I take it Baby is there and I hope that she is preserving her philosophic firmness. 4

I do not know what to say or how to console. When do I think about poor Sujata and you, the whole picture of sorrow rises before me? I can only hope that your innate bravery is not only keeping you up, but is proving a tower of strength to Sujata and all other members of the family surrounding you at the present moment. Do let me have a line if you can. 5 You never write to me and I must not expect you to write to me in your present state. Urmila Devi has just sent me a long letter describing your grief and telling me how you have broken down this time. I do not wonder at it. Mona, Baby ill and Bhomble are passing away so suddenly and so tragically, enough to break the stoutest heart. But I know that you will soon recover from the shock, if not for your sake, for the sake of those whom Bhomble has left behind him. Please pass the accompanying on to Sujata. I hope Mona and her child are quite all right, and that Baby has recovered completely. I take it that Bhaskar is his own self again. 6

I cannot invite you and Basanti Devi to come here because I am still half-bedridden and not moving about. In the month of July the doctors expect that I shall be able to do a little travelling. But it won’t enable me to put forth energy that I should have to if I invited you and took you from place to place. For that you will have to give me strength when I come to Bengal if I am ever enabled to do. How is Basanti Devi getting on? She and Mona and Baby are all playing me false. Tell them I shall have my revenge one of these days. I am here at least up to the end of the month. 7 It was fearful not to have met you again. As you were going, I do not know whether you noticed that I was casting hungry eyes on you, when Sarojini said you were soon coming back. But you were not to. What is the meaning of my being a prisoner, if things could happen in the natural course? Let us therefore be thankful for the mercies we had. I was glad that my fast drew you to Poona. I was hungering to see you, since you will not write. And now do throw yourself in this glorious work of untouchability. 8

If you are at all following the papers you must have noticed that all the dark reactionary forces are being brought together to impede the progress of purification. It is therefore time for all that is clean and uplifting in Hinduism to combine together and make a united effort to overthrow the many-headed monster of untouchability. Will you respond? If you will not summon up courage enough to write a letter, I dare not accuse you of laziness. I hope you will have the courage to send me a wire. It was only last week that I invited Urmila Devi to go down to the South in answer to a summons from Kerala. She at once wired consent. Will you do likewise? I do not say go down South, but I do want you to promise to take a due share in the uplift work. The field of work shall be chosen by you unless you will leave that also to me. 9

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