My Choice

Dr. Mehta went on Monday to the Victoria Hotel expecting to find me there. He discovered that we had left, got our new address, and met me at our rooms. Through sheer folly I had managed to get ringworm on the boat. For washing and bathing we used to have sea-water, in which soap is not soluble. I however used soap, taking its use to be a sign of civilisation with the result that instead of cleaning the skin, it made it greasy. This gave me ringworm. I showed it to Dr. Mehta who told me to apply acetic acid. I remember how the burning acid made me cry. Dr. Mehta inspected my room and its appointments and shook his head in disapproval. ‘This place won’t do,’ he said. ‘We come to England not so much for the pupose of studies as for gaining experience of English life and customs. And for this you need to live with a family. But before you do so, I think you had better serve a period of apprenticeship with—. I will take you there.’

On Monday, Dr. Mehta went to the Victoria Hotel, expecting to find me there. He learned that we had left, got our new address, and met me at our rooms. Through sheer foolishness, I had managed to get ringworm on the boat. We used seawater for washing and bathing, but soap does not dissolve in seawater. Still, I used soap, thinking its use was a sign of civilization. As a result, it made my skin greasy instead of cleaning it. This gave me ringworm. I showed it to Dr. Mehta, who told me to apply acetic acid. I remember how the burning acid made me cry. Dr. Mehta examined my room and its furnishings and shook his head in disapproval. ‘This place won’t do,’ he said. ‘We come to England not so much to study as to gain experience of English life and customs. For that, you need to live with a family. But before you do, I think you should spend some time as an apprentice with . . . I will take you there.’

I gratefully accepted the suggestion and removed to the friend’s rooms. He was all kindness and attention. He treated me as his own brother, initiated me into English ways and manners, and accustomed me to talking the language. My food however became a serious question. I could not relish boiled vegetable cooked without salt or condiments. The landlady was at a loss to know what to prepare for me. We had oatmeal porridge for breakfast which was fairly filling, but I always starved at lunch and dinner. The friend continually reasoned with me to eat meat, but I always pleaded my vow and then remained silent. Both for luncheon and dinner we had spinach and bread and jam too. I was a good eater and had a capacious stomach; but I was ashamed to ask for more than two or three slices of bread, as it did not seem correct to do so. Added to this, there was no milk either for lunch or dinner. The friend once got disgusted with this state of things, and said: ‘Had you been my own brother, I would have sent you packing. What is the value of a vow made before an illiterate mother, and in ignorance of conditions here? It is no vow at all. It would not be regarded as a vow in law. It is pure superstition to stick to such a promise. And I tell you this persistence will not help you to gain anything here. You confess to having eaten and relished meat. You took it where it was absolutely unnecessary, and will not where it is quite essential. What a pity!’

I gratefully accepted the suggestion and moved into my friend’s rooms. He was unfailingly kind and attentive. He treated me like his own brother, introduced me to English ways and manners, and helped me get used to speaking English. My food, however, became a serious problem. I could not enjoy boiled vegetables cooked without salt or seasoning. The landlady did not know what to prepare for me. We had oatmeal porridge for breakfast, which was fairly filling, but I was always hungry at lunch and dinner. My friend kept trying to persuade me to eat meat, but I always cited my vow and then fell silent. For both lunch and dinner, we had spinach, bread, and jam. I had a good appetite and could eat a great deal, but I was ashamed to ask for more than two or three slices of bread. It did not seem proper to ask for more. On top of that, there was no milk at either meal. My friend finally grew disgusted with the situation and said: ‘If you were my own brother, I would send you packing. What is a vow worth when you made it to an illiterate mother without knowing the conditions here? It is no vow at all. The law would not regard it as a vow. Keeping such a promise is pure superstition. And I tell you, your persistence will not help you gain anything here. You admit that you have eaten meat and enjoyed it. You ate it where it was absolutely unnecessary, yet you refuse to eat it where it is quite essential. What a pity!’

But I was adamant.

But I refused to change my mind.

Day in and day out the friend would argue, but I had an eternal negative to face him with. The more he argued, the more uncompromising I became. Daily I would pray for God’s protection and get it. Not that I had any idea of God. It was faith that was at work,—faith of which the seed was sown by the good nurse Rambha.

Day after day, my friend argued with me, but I always said no. The more he argued, the more firmly I refused. Every day I prayed for God’s protection and received it. Not that I had any idea of God. Faith was at work, and the good nurse Rambha had planted its seed.

One day the friend began to read to me Bentham’s Theory of Utility. I was at my wits’ end. The language was too difficult for me to understand. He began to expound it. I said: ‘Pray excuse me. These abstruse things are beyond me. I admit it is necessary to eat meat. But I cannot break my vow. I cannot argue about it. I am sure I cannot meet you in argument. But please give me up as foolish or obstinate. I appreciate your love for me and I know you to be my well-wisher. I also know that you are telling me again and again about this because you feel for me. But I am helpless. A vow is a vow. It cannot be broken.’

One day, my friend began reading Bentham’s Theory of Utility to me. I was at a loss. The language was too difficult for me to understand. He began to explain it. I said: ‘Please excuse me. These difficult ideas are beyond me. I admit that it is necessary to eat meat. But I cannot break my vow. I cannot argue about it. I am sure I cannot match you in an argument. But please give up on me as foolish or stubborn. I appreciate your love for me, and I know you want what is best for me. I also know that you keep telling me this because you care about me. But I am helpless. A vow is a vow. It cannot be broken.’

The friend looked at me in surprise. He closed the book and said: ‘All right. I will not argue any more.’ I was glad. He never discussed the subject again. But he did not cease to worry about me. He smoked and drank, but he never asked me to do so. In fact he asked me to remain away from both. His one anxiety was lest I might become very weak without meat, and thus be unable to feel at home in England.

My friend looked at me in surprise. He closed the book and said: ‘All right. I won’t argue anymore.’ I was glad. He never discussed the subject again. But he did not stop worrying about me. He smoked and drank, but he never asked me to do either. In fact, he urged me to stay away from both. He worried only that I might become very weak without meat and be unable to feel at home in England.

That is how I served my apprenticeship for a month. The friend’s house was in Richmond, and it was not possible to go to London more than once or twice a week. Dr. Mehta and Sjt. Dalpatram Shukla therefore decided that I should be put with some family. Sjt. Shukla hit upon an Anglo-Indian’s house in West Kensington and placed me there. The landlady was a widow. I told her about my vow. The old lady promised to look after me properly, and I took up my residence in her house. Here too I practically had to starve. I had sent for sweets and other eatables from home, but nothing had yet come. Everything was insipid. Every day the old lady asked me whether I liked the food, but what could she do? I was still as shy as ever and dared not ask for more than was put before me. She had two daughters. They insisted on serving me with an extra slice or two of bread. But little did they know that nothing less than a loaf would have filled me.

That is how I spent a month as an apprentice. My friend’s house was in Richmond, and I could not go to London more than once or twice a week. So Dr. Mehta and Sjt. Dalpatram Shukla decided that I should stay with a family. Sjt. Shukla found an Anglo-Indian household in West Kensington and arranged for me to stay there. The landlady was a widow. I told her about my vow. The old lady promised to look after me properly, and I moved into her house. Here too, I practically had to starve. I had sent for sweets and other food from home, but nothing had arrived yet. Everything was bland. Every day the old lady asked whether I liked the food, but what could she do? I was still as shy as ever and did not dare ask for more than she gave me. She had two daughters. They insisted on giving me an extra slice or two of bread. But they had no idea that only a whole loaf would have filled me.

But I had found my feet now. I had not yet started upon my regular studies. I had just begun reading newspapers thanks to Sjt. Shukla. In India I had never read a newspaper. But here I succeeded in cultivating a liking for them by regular reading. I always glanced over The Daily News, The Daily Telegraph, and The Pall Mall Gazette. This took me hardly an hour. I therefore began to wander about. I launched out in search of a vegetarian restaurant. The landlady had told me that there were such places in the City. I would trot ten or twelve miles each day, go into a cheap restaurant and eat my fill of bread, but would never be satisfied. During these wanderings I once hit on a vegetarian restaurant in Farringdon Street. The sight of it filled me with the same joy that a child feels on getting a thing after its own heart. Before I entered I noticed books for sale exhibited under a glass window near the door. I saw among them Salt’s Plea for Vegetarianism. This I purchased for a shilling and went straight to the dining room. This was my first hearty meal since my arrival in England. God had come to my aid.

But I had found my feet now. I had not yet begun my regular studies. Thanks to Sjt. Shukla, I had just started reading newspapers. I had never read a newspaper in India. But here, by reading them regularly, I came to enjoy them. I always glanced through The Daily News, The Daily Telegraph, and The Pall Mall Gazette. This took me hardly an hour. So I began to wander about, looking for a vegetarian restaurant. My landlady had told me there were such places in the City. I would walk ten or twelve miles each day. I would go into a cheap restaurant and eat my fill of bread, but I was never satisfied. During these wanderings, I came across a vegetarian restaurant on Farringdon Street. Seeing it filled me with the joy a child feels on getting something they have set their heart on. Before going in, I noticed books for sale in a glass display near the door. Among them was Salt’s Plea for Vegetarianism. I bought it for a shilling and went straight to the dining room. This was my first hearty meal since arriving in England. God had come to my aid.

I read Salt’s book from cover to cover and was very much impressed by it. From the date of reading this book, I may claim to have become a vegetarian by choice. I blessed the day on which I had taken the vow before my mother. I had all along abstained from meat in the interests of truth and of the vow I had taken, but had wished at the same time that every Indian should be a meat-eater, and had looked forward to being one myself freely and openly some day, and to enlisting others in the cause. The choice was now made in favour of vegetarianism, the spread of which henceforward became my mission.

I read Salt’s book from cover to cover, and it impressed me deeply. From the day I read it, I may say I became a vegetarian by choice. I blessed the day I had made my vow to my mother. Until then, I had avoided meat for the sake of truth and to honor my vow. But I had also wished that every Indian would eat meat. I had looked forward to eating meat freely and openly myself someday, and persuading others to do the same. Now I had chosen vegetarianism, and spreading it became my mission from then on.