Mahatma Gandhi, page 20
In Alexandria this drama of spirit and matter was understood long ago. The mystical Christian was born heir to all that was great in Egypt and the Orient, heir to the mystery of Osiris, Mithra and the Buddha. Christianity, of course, did not invent anything new. It only expressed the mystery in new symbols. In fact, the whole of the Gospel is nothing but a poem in mystical symbolism. He who reads these scriptures literally does not understand its essence no more than he who sees the body as the man know the soul. To prepare the body for the discovery of the soul is true religion, the true mystical life. This is Hermetic Christianity, the Esoteric one. Let us therefore get to the source—the vital foods helping us to be right and pure—and we’ll all find God our own way.
To go inward is to discover the true Christian way. ‘One purified oneself through Abstinence, Prayer, Meditation, Self-restraint, Fearlessness and Voluntary Poverty.’ One must completely conquer the body. This was the Perfect Way, the way one enters little by little the realm of the spirit—to union with God. For ‘God is nothing that man is not.’ Thus with spiritual discipline one abandons one’s will to God’s will. ‘This unification of the human will with the divine will mystically termed the At-one-ment or the reconciliation between man and God.’ And this way one attains Christhood.
‘And he is a Christ who in virtue of his observance of this process to its utmost extent while yet in the body, constitutes the full manifestation of the qualities of Spirit.’ 8
Mohandas Gandhi was convinced this was indeed in the direction of Truth. Why should he not in some way participate in this unique, this transcendental movement for the spiritual unification of mankind? He would therefore be the representative of the Esoteric Christian Union (London) in Johannesburg.
He would sell their books and write about them. ‘I promise that after a perusal, he (the reader) will become a better man.’ For the ‘Union establishes the unity and common source of all the great religions of the world’, and shows ‘inadequacy of materialism which boasts of having given the world a civilisation which was never witnessed before . . . forgetting that its greatest achievements are the invention of the most terrible inventions of destructions, the awful growth of anarchism, the frightful disputes between capital and labour, the wanton and diabolical cruelty inflicted on innocent dumb animals in the name of science “falsely so called”.’ 9
This new version of religion appealed deeply to Mohandas Gandhi. Here were people, he felt, who had understood something that he had been discursively feeling but never formulated. So Christianity might not be the final answer. Besides transmigration and such other Hindu concepts—and Dr. Maitland seemed to find them quite rational, and rational a man must be—so these Hindu ideas were perhaps not so absurd. But where to seek the right answers? He should ask Srimad Rajachandra. And so he wrote the famous letter of the twenty-eight questions which asked about every religious problem a young man might ask of an important spiritual figure. To put God in the heavens and not worry about what one does here had no meaning for Gandhi. Everything had to be God’s way—that is if God existed—and the ultimate answer had to be to see ‘God face to face’—the true aim of every man in search of Truth.
‘What is the soul?’ Gandhi asked of Rajachandra. ‘Does it perform actions? Do past actions impede its progress or not?’
And again: What is God? And if God exists, did he create the universe?
If past actions bind one, and if God exists, then what is the relation between the two—how does one attain moksha or liberation? And if indeed moksha or liberation could be attained, could it be so while one is still alive?
How could one be alive and be perfect and free? How is this at all possible? Besides, be it true that when a man dies he could be reborn ‘an animal, a tree, or even a stone?’ What do you have to say to that, Rajachandraji?
What then also is Hinduism that people call the Arya Dharma or the religion of the Aryans? Did every Indian religion originate from the Vedas? Are the Vedas eternal? Anyway, who composed them?
And again, sir, who is the author of the Gita? If God is author of the Gita, as many Indians believe, where is the proof?
And also, how does one know his religion is the best? Do you, sir, know anything about Christianity? Was Christ the Incarnation of God?
It is said some great souls have attained liberation or moksha. How does one know about it? How do you know?
Can an illiterate person attain liberation by the pure love of God?
‘Rama and Krishna are described as incarnations of God. What does that mean? Were they God or only part of Him? Can we attain salvation through faith in them?’
‘Who were Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva?’
‘If the snake is about to bite me should I allow myself to be bitten or should I kill it, supposing it is the only way I can save myself.’ 10
Rajachandra, seated on his white, immaculate gaddi in his shop, reading the letter, and pondering over it between selling his diamond or ruby sapphire or gold to the marriage-making elder, the concubine, the Maharaja, must have written down his answers in the little notebook he always kept at his side. Thin, tall, and fiery-eyed Rajachandra was only a few years older than Mohandas Gandhi. But he had received his answers from his own Guru. And he knew. Every path leads one There. Religions are little pens in which men, like cattle, are huddled. One must get out of them and be free to know the truth. There is nothing wrong with religion as long as you know it’s a pen. And one’s own pen always seems the best to you because you know it best. Therefore, why not see every stone and nook of it so that you know what it is before you are free.
O for that hour of unique bliss,
When all the knots untied within without,
And all the subtlest bonds removed, I shall
Walk on the blessed path that sages tread of yore.
Transcending mind and all its fleeting moods
And fixed in deep detachment evermore,
Regarding body only as the means
For self-discipline,
And nothing else for any cause whatever,
No more deluded I shall be,
By this sense-magic or this earthly frame of mine. 11
And Sri Rajachandra wrote back: God is Atman freed from all bonds of karma. Atman in its pristine state is pure consciousness, total intelligence, all strength, all knowledge. There is no first cause mightier than or exterior to the Atman in its pure pristine state.
Both the Atman and the Universe are eternal—without being and without end . . . Both Cosmos and the Atman are in a perpetual state of flux and will endure for all time.
Passions like hatred and attachment, greed and lust, etc. bind the soul to matter and are the cause of its bondage. Liberation, or moksha is complete freedom from these.
Good and evil are like any other category of thought . . . Every individual is free to choose between good and evil, and it is the moral duty to embrace the one and eschew the other.
The antiquity of the Vedas cannot be denied. Before the Buddha and Mahavira were the Vedas . . . Both the Vedic and the Jaina ways of life may be said to have existed from the beginning; the question to be answered is, which one of these answers meets the needs of the soul best?
All the miracles of Christ pale into insignificance before the omnipotence of the perfected Atman.
Moksha or liberation can be attained only by the complete deliverance from the passions of hatred and attachment and the resulting ignorance . . .
And so now to the question, ‘Shall I kill the attacking snake or shall I not?’
‘If you have realised the transitory nature of the perishable body and the eternal glory of the immortal soul and its boundless potentialities, you will not wish to barter the latter for prolonging the momentary existence of the former.
‘The question therefore is not what I would wish you to do but what you would wish your choice to be. The choice will depend upon the degree of your illumination or enlightenment.’ 12
Hence be a better Hindu is more or less what Rajachandra said to Gandhiji, and sent him a number of important philosophical books: Panchikarana, Maniratna Mala, Mumukshu Prakarana (of Yoga Vasistha), and the famous Jaina text, Shaddarshana Samuchaya.
Thus you get out of your pen your own way. There is no other way. Your way is the all—for you. Gandhiji now returned to his study of Hindu philosophy. If one does not find in it what one wants, one can always find it elsewhere. Start then from where you are.
* * *
Facts are three-fourths law, an Englishman had told Mohandas Gandhi. And so having studied accountancy he plunged into the accounts. And having plunged into the accounts he studied the letters and the documents. Law was not merely a series of ethical edicts, it was something more final. The fire of truth lay behind it, something very living, impersonal, and that took you from depth to depth of perception. It seemed to take you from frontiers of facts to the discovery of some central power, vision, presence, in which all dissolved, and you enjoyed yourself. Such an enjoyment brought not only deep fulfilment but light.
By now Tyebji Seth, the merchant, and Gandhiji had become true friends. Indians met at least once a week and they met at Tyeb’s house. After all, he was a merchant-prince like Abdulla Seth, and he could be so generous and brotherly. Further, Gandhiji had finished the full study of the litigation case—the accounts had been minutely examined, and so was the correspondence. There was no question, any court of law would have given cause to Abdulla Seth. And the proceedings would take up so much time and would cost so much money, both the parties would be ruined here, and forever. This was no way to behave between man and man, between Indian and Indian. What would Dada Abdulla Seth say to arbitration? Dada Abdulla Seth accepted it but with reluctance. He knew he was going to win, and the costs would be paid by the defendant. There was no question this would be the ruin of Seth Tyeb. Is this what Dada Abdulla would wish for a fellow countryman, besides a relation of his own? Of course not, said Dada Abdulla. Then what about an arbitration out of court? If Tyeb accepts, why not? Gandhi was deeply moved by this experiment in human understanding. People given the right opportunity could behave decently. The problem therefore is only one of patience and understanding. Nobody was fully wrong and no man fully right. It all depends upon how you look at any situation. This is what Jainism had declared: You can look at an object in six different ways, and yet not be able to prove its reality. If so, is it not more difficult to find a man wrong? The crux of existence absorbs and absolves.
The arbitrator of course gave cause to Seth Abdulla. Not only Seth Abdulla won his case, but with so little cost. Now came the question of payment. Pound 37,000 is a big sum of money. If Tyeb Seth paid it all at once, he would go bankrupt. And that would be suicide. Would not Seth Abdulla, as a magnanimous gesture, suggested Gandhi, accept regular payments at fixed intervals? This would be human and brotherly and true. Dada Abdulla accepted the terms. The agreement was duly drawn up. Gandhiji had tried his hand—so young yet, he was hardly twenty-five years of age then—at disentangling the strands of complicated human relationships. By applying the twin arguments of understanding and truth he had won this, his first experiment. Naturally, this could be applied to every human predicament. Why not? For all problems are no different than the case between Dada Abdulla Seth and Seth Tyeb. Two men went to fight. Over what? Over a mere misunderstanding about accounts. Passions rise. Insults are hurled at one another. The rupture takes place. For complete satisfaction, one party or the other would have to be ruined. In every fight there is a loser. And the loser wants to rise again, fight and win. If this is human law then humanity is doomed. Are we still at the state of beasts? Yet, to say beasts is improper. For even beasts behave better. After their physical satisfactions are over, they leave one another at peace. If so, why not the higher being called Man?
Seth Tyeb rejoiced at the way the case was settled. Gandhi had been like a brother. Not only to Seth Tyeb but to everyone around him, to the barber, the cook, the tailor, the mechanic, the coolie. But now there was no more reason for Gandhi to stay in Pretoria. He had spent eight useful months here. Now it was time to go back.
It was sad to leave all his friends. But this had to be. Kasturba was at home waiting with her two children. Kasturba with her full square face, her luxuriant body, and her many tricks, tempers and withdrawn silences. She was a clever girl, was Kasturba. What a long separation it has been. Yet, somehow, the passion for work took away the passion from the loins. What next, however? And then again there was the brothers, Lakshmidas, Karsandas, their children, and others.
Gandhiji now left Pretoria with pain and gratitude. Of course, he would come back to meet his old friends. They, his friends, would never forget him.
Durban was a bigger image of Pretoria in every way and Dada Abdulla Seth had been closer to him than had Tyeb Seth. Of course, Gandhi Bhai 13 had now to go. There was no question. It was such a pity, however. But one has to go back to one’s home—to India, to Porbandar. The Indian community in Durban had to arrange a fitting adieu to this young and spirited barrister. Somehow he had, within these few months, changed the face of things for the Indians. Who would look after them now?
Sydenham is a seaside resort (full of parks and pleasant avenues) by Durban, and here people came for their holidays. It was such a lovely place where the whites enjoy themselves, why not the Indians enjoy themselves too there? Dada Abdulla Seth was after all a rich man. And he should do something befitting this important occasion. For when Gandhi Bhai goes from here who knows when he will ever return? Every departure is a movement in the great, and eternal, pilgrimage.
As the Indian holidaymakers were enjoying themselves, Gandhiji’s eyes caught a short note in the Natal Mercury. It was significantly called, ‘Indian Franchise’.
‘The Asiatic comes of a race impregnated with an effete civilisation,’ it began. Of course, he, the Indian, has no knowledge whatsoever of representative government. He is truly a political infant. And it would be unjust to ask him to have sympathy for our political aspirations. Besides they hardly know how to read a newspaper. So few of them know the English language. ‘He thinks differently and reasons in a plane unknown to European logic.’ Our political systems are as mystical to him as his Vedas be to us. Besides, they are a parasitical race. God knows why we ever gave them franchise. They would perhaps be so happy to have this responsibility removed. ‘If the Colonists arrogated to themselves the sole duties of government, they took upon their shoulders responsibility that the government should be fair and just, and by claiming to be the dominant race they understood that their rule should be one of generosity and justice to the unenfranchised.’ 14
Therefore it behoves the whites to disenfranchise the Indians. That sounds logical. Does it not? And a bill was accordingly brought before the Natal legislature. ‘Do you know anything about it, brothers?’ asked Gandhi.
‘What can we understand of these matters?’ answered Dada Abdulla. ‘We can understand only things that affect our trade.’ 15 Besides, similar things had already taken place in the Orange Free State, continued Dada Abdulla. ‘Indians were driven out by the colonists. No Indian could own property there or settle in trade.’ And listen, brother, here in Natal it all started in this manner. ‘A European attorney got a few of us to vote, and we voted for him. That is all. We know nothing.’
‘Something must be done,’ said Gandhiji gravely pondering over the situation. ‘Yes, something must be done about the franchise question, and forthwith. There is no time to lose.’
‘What shall we do, brother?’ they all said. ‘You say, and we do what you say.’
‘But I am going away.’ He had been almost a year in South Africa.
‘No, you must not go,’ they insisted. ‘Abdulla Seth, you must detain brother Gandhi.’
‘Of course, and how wonderful that would be,’ answered Dada Abdulla, adding diplomatically, ‘but you too have the same right to detain him. Let us all persuade him to stay.’
‘Of course.’
‘But you must not forget he is a barrister. What about his fees?’
‘Abdulla Seth,’ said Gandhi, ‘I need no fees for this work. There can be no fees for public work.’ But naturally there would be other expenses—postage, stationery and fees for the attorneys. ‘Everybody will have to cooperate with me. We will have to fight the Bill 16 with courage and sacrifice. It cannot be a one-man show. I will postpone my departure by a month provided you all promise me your full cooperation.’
‘Allah is great!’ they all shouted. ‘And of course money will come. And you can have as many of us at your service as you like. Stay with us then, Gandhi Bhai, stay with us.’
‘Yes, I stay,’ said Gandhiji and thereby his political vocation started.
* * *
Geologically speaking, the Deccan 17 is one of the oldest chunks of this rotating planet. Sturdy with laterite and gneissite, it once formed the cretaceous part of a continent, the famous Gondwanaland, of which Africa and India and South America are each a third of the whole landmass. But at some unknown time a mighty geological movement shook the earth—and this split it into many different parts, each with its own peculiar mutation of fauna and flora, in mountain, river and plain. For example, in that bright young past there were no Himalayas—they came much later—and they began to grow little by little and from their slowly emergent uplifts, little streams began to flow, which gurgled and watered and fed the oceans till the silt formations built up in millions of years the large spacious and auspicious Indo-Gangetic plain, the home of the Indo-Aryans, the Aryavarta. And the Aryans coming from the cold North when they met a dark-skinned, flat-nosed race, but mighty and highly civilised so historians conjecture, they fought these darker folk and defeated them and called them the slaves, the Dasyus. But as it often happens in history, they, the Aryans, probably took most of their civilisation from the Dasyus, and ruled happily their own republics and kingdoms according to Dasyu concepts—each village a little republic, with canals and aqueducts and collective grazing grounds. Five persons ruled each village by election, and thus from age to age, the Dasyus, now called Dravidians, ruled their own new territory, the Deccan. The rich thick velds, the Dandaka Forest, divided the Aryan and the Dravidian, so each one lived his own life. Again and again the white Aryan tried to conquer the South and again and again he was defeated for the thin and blue-coloured Dravidian is rich in intelligence and a mighty brave man. He has a speech of his own—among the most ancient of the earth—called the Dravida, from which rose Tamil and Telugu, Kannada and Malayalam, among the great languages of India, and with at least about one thousand years of literature each. Cultivating his great belt of rice fields, green and gold against the monsoon-blue sky, blue of skin, and singing his rich realistic songs, he made South India among the most civilised parts of the earth. Cities and emporia arose one after another, and from the ancient Egyptians, the Hebrews and the Chinese, the Greeks and the Romans—they all traded with the Dravidian and in fact Queen Sheba even received an Embassy from the Kings of Dravida, with gifts of ivory and the peacock. And the Roman emperors got the elephant instead. Thus the fame of the Dravida land wherever trade and learning flourished.
