Reminiscences of Bengal – 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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 Reminiscences of Bengal – Mahatma Gandhi

 

I am writing these reminiscences on Monday after returning from Faridpur. I write sitting on the covered terrace of the mansion formerly belonging to Deshbandhu Das. I have been in Bengal for four days but have still not recovered from the shock I felt when I first entered this mansion. I knew that the Deshbandhu had made over this building for public purposes. He had debts, I knew, but I also knew that he could clear them by practicing for less than a year and keep the mansion. But he did not at all want to practice, or, rather, he wanted to plead the cause of his country without demanding fees. He decided, therefore, to give away this palatial building and made over its control to trustees. He wanted, however, that whenever I travelled I should stay while in Calcutta in that old building. And so I am lodged here. But it is one thing to know a thing and quite another to see it with one’s own eyes. My heart wept when I entered the house, and my eyes were moist with tears. In the absence of its former master, and no more his property, the mansion seemed to me like a jail. I felt miserable in it, and I have still not got out of that feeling.

I know that this is ignorant attachment. By giving up his ownership of the house, Deshbandhu has in fact lightened his burden. What use had the Dazes for a building in which they would lose their way? If they want, they can turn a hut into a royal palace. For both of them it was a willing sacrifice. Why feel sad about it? Well, this is being philosophical. If I did not have this gift I would feel impelled to start building a palace for myself straightway. Is it easy to escape the consequence of the atman dwelling in a physical body? Do others in the world act as Das did? People in the world would welcome a palace if they can have it, whereas this man gave away one. All honour to him! The tears in my eyes spring from love. The shock I felt was also the result of love. But is there no selfishness in this? If I had no bond at all with Deshbandhu, if I had not known him reigning like a king in this building, I would have felt no shock. I have seen many palaces whose owners departed from this world itself, leaving palaces behind them, but I shed no tears when entering them. These tears, therefore, spring from selfishness too. Chittaranjan Das has lost nothing by giving away the palatial bungalow. His services are the richer for this sacrifice. The Bengalis are mad folk.

If Das was mad, so is Prafulla Chandra Ray. He dances on the dais when addressing an audience. No one would believe that he is a learned man; he thumps his hands and stamps his feet. Whenever he likes he introduces English words and phrases in his Bengali. When speaking, he forgets himself. He is then totally absorbed in the flow of his thoughts and does not bother to know whether others laugh at him or what they think about him. We do not understand his greatness until we hear him speak, with our eyes fixed on his face. I remember that when I was staying with Gokhale in Calcutta and Acharya Ray was his neighbour, the three of us went to the station one day. I had my third-class ticket with me, and they two had come to see me off. Anyone coming to see a third-class passenger off must be a beggar, people believe. But Gokhale’s chubby face, his silken turban and silk-bordered dhoti were enough for the station master. But who would let this skeleton of a young bachelor, wearing a soiled long shirt and as lean as a beggar, go in without a ticket?

So far as I remember, he cheerfully stayed out. Criticizing my obstinacy when he saw me literally squeezed in my seat in the compartment, Gokhale went away and rejoined his comrade. Why does Acharya Ray rein supreme over the hearts of innumerable students because he is also a man of self-sacrifice? And now he has gone khadi-crazy. He did not feel the slightest embarrassment in asking a Bengali woman officer of the Education Department: “What good can you do unless you wear khadi?” If he did not say this, would anyone buy khadi manufactured by his beggars of Khulna? The same night we left for Faridpur. Shri Shankerlal had given Satish Babu a rather alarming account of my health. There was nothing, therefore, he would not do to make me comfortable. He, too, belonged to the mad folks’ league. He had looked into the minutest of details. In order that I might rest my back while sitting, a wooden support was kept ready wherever I sat. I could accept it because it was a simple and inexpensive thing. But when we reached the station, there was a first-class compartment for my companions and me. The Faridpur Reception Committee had also a hand in this arrangement. Only a few days ago a correspondent had asked me in a letter published in Young India whether I was a poor man or rich. It seemed as if Bengal had answered that question.

I asked them if a second-class compartment was not good enough for my comfort, and why Bengal had arranged a first-class compartment for me. I was told in reply that they had paid for a second-class compartment and secured a first-class one. How could that reply satisfy me? According to my principle, we should not avail ourselves of a thing of which we do not approve even if it is offered gratis. If there should be anyone so foolish or mad as to offer me, free, a diamond necklace to wear, should I wear it? Are my companions, too, who serve me as secretaries and may even clean the lavatory, as weak as I so that for them also a first-class compartment should be provided at second-class fare? Moreover, this could not have been managed without the Railway people obliging. Should such personal favours be accepted? I saw in this arrangement the madness or excess of love. I must find a solution to this problem. God’s will be done. But, then, this madness is not confined to one class of people. We started for Faridpur at night and I had thought that I would get plenty of rest on the way and would be able to make up fully for the lost hours of sleep. But that was not to be. I had great difficulty in getting sleep, thanks to cries of “alo, alo” and other noises. The train also stopped at almost every station. At every station there were crowds and people insisted on having darshan. But I had resolved never to give darshan during night-time. So I kept lying down. But that did not help.

My companions, too, tried hard to explain the position to the people, but the more they explained the more did the crowds get excited. There were louder and still louder shouts of “Vandemataram, Mahatma Gandhi ki jai, alo, alo”. Alo means light. The train lights had been switched off. The people wanted them to be switched on so that they could at least see me sleeping. This was the state of affairs at almost every station up to Faridpur all the time I kept earnestly praying to God to save me from such love! When we arrived at Faridpur, there was a huge crowd, of course, but the arrangements on the whole were good. Babu Surendra Biswas, the chairman of the Reception Committee, had instructed the people in advance not to shout or rush towards me. The car, moreover, was kept right at the spot where I was to alight, so that we entered the city without harassment. Before being taken to the place where I was to stay, I had to declare an exhibition open. They had accepted for it varieties of seeds and other such things supplied by the Government Agriculture Department, but the main sections related to khadi. Biswas Babu had decided not to permit the display of any specimen of cloth not manufactured from hand-spun, yarn, wool or silk. This helped the khadi section very much; it became the centre of interest and the visitors had no chance to compare it with mill-cloth. There were, among the varieties of khadi, a great many specimens of fine cloth too. There was also a large quantity of fine yarn. There were even two persons sitting on a chair and spinning, neither of whom had to turn aside for winding the yarn.

The yarn was being wound as it was spun. No doubt that type of the spinning-wheel did not produce more yarn at a faster rate, but there was one operation less to attend to and, as the wheel was being turned by foot, both hands remained free. Looms had been received as exhibits from the Government factory at Serampur, and these also were accepted on condition that only hand-spun yarn must be used for both warp and woof. It was learnt on inquiry that students were now taught hand-spinning too in that factory. There were many fataka looms, too, on which they used only hand-spun yarn as warp. Even jute and wool were spun by hand in this section. The processes relating to the tanning and dyeing of hides were also being demonstrated in the exhibition. There were spinning competitions, and since many men and women had taken part in them the two sections were kept separate. Almost all of them drew fine yarn. All this created the impression on my mind that, if Bengal took up this work enthusiastically, it would come to occupy the first place in regard to khadi. I found very few people in Bengal who insisted on not wearing khadi.

There is plenty of artistic sense, and much skill in spinning too. Many middle-class women spin fine yarn and with sincere devotion. The wife of the chairman of the Reception committee, in whose house I was put up, has spun a large quantity for her family. She grows the dev variety of cotton on her small farm and spins it uncared. This good lady made slivers for me with her own hands. They were very good indeed. She picks cotton from the plants as she needs it and arranges it properly to turn it into slivers. In a matter of minutes a whole heap of slivers is ready. A good many Swarajists in Bengal seem to have taken up spinning. Biswas Babu himself is a Swarajists. The chairman of one of the [Congress] committees in Calcutta is also a Swarajists. He had sent to me at a public meeting yarn spun by him. We saw many men in Faridpur clad exclusively in khadi. There was a separate meeting for women. At this meeting, too, one saw a relatively larger number of women, larger than in similar meetings in Gujarat, dressed in khadi. I observed that the Bengali women did not have pleats in their saris, and, therefore, did not require any great length in their saris. But this is not the explanation of there being a large number of women in khadi at the meeting. We can only say that women in this part are more intelligent. It is true, of course that a number of men and women had put on khadi especially for this occasion.

I have given here only the impression produced on me in Faridpur. As my present tour is connected solely with the khadi movement, I have still many more experiences in store for me. The reader will know afterwards what the sum total of these experiences comes to. As there is no entrance fee for the exhibition, thousands of people have taken advantage of it. On the next day, before I left Faridpur, prizes were awarded to persons who had demonstrated the different processes relating to khadi. The recipients of medals and prizes probably included equal numbers of men and of women. Among those who received medals three were Muslims. There were graded medals and prizes for the best carders, best sliver-makers, best spinners and best weavers. I found Deshbandhu’s physical condition to be very bad. His voice has lost its strength. There is extreme weakness. In fact, he has not recovered well enough to be fit to undertake such exertions. Just now, the doctors have advised him to go to Darjeeling or some place in Europe to recuperate his strength. But he intends to do this only as a last resort. A khadi marquee was specially erected for the Conference. It displayed the utmost simplicity. Seating arrangements were made on the ground. Not a chair was to be seen. The work of erecting the marquee was entrusted only to a tent-maker. He said he had made it exclusively of pure khadi, but all of us have serious doubts whether the cloth used was really khadi. I am trying to ascertain the truth. The important thing, however, is that the organizers’ intention was to have a khadi marquee and they believed that the one which was erected was of khadi. Deshbandhu’s speech was short and interesting.

Every sentence breathed the spirit of non-violence. He stated clearly in his speech that India’s salvation could come only through a non-violent struggle. If anyone asked me to put my signature to it, I would hardly find it necessary to alter a word or phrase. It was but natural that the resolutions should be in tune with such a speech. There was, therefore, a good deal of heat in the Subjects Committee. Matters reached a stage when Deshbandhu felt it necessary to offer to resign, but ultimately his influence carried the day and the important resolutions of the Conference were passed without unpleasantness. Muslim friends had arranged a separate meeting to which we both were invited. Accordingly, Deshbandhu, his wife Vasantidevi and I went to it. There is some estrangement [between Hindus and Muslims] in Faridpur. I advised that the matter should be settled through arbitration and suggested that the Muslims should participate in the Conference. As a result, about a hundred of them attended on Sunday evening.

Reference:

Navajivan, 10-5-1925