At High School

I have already said that I was learning at the High School when I was married. We three brothers were learning at the same school. The eldest brother was in a much higher class, and the brother, who was married at the same time as I, was only one class ahead of me. Marriage resulted in both of us wasting a year. Indeed the result was even worse for my brother, for he gave up studies altogether. Heaven knows how many youths suffer the same plight as he. Only in our present Hindu society do studies and marriage go thus hand in hand.

I have already said that I was in high school when I got married. My two brothers and I all attended the same school. The eldest was in a much higher class. The brother who married at the same time as I did was only one class ahead of me. Marriage caused both of us to waste a year. In fact, it was even worse for my brother, who gave up his studies altogether. Heaven knows how many young men suffer the same fate. Only in our present Hindu society do studies and marriage go hand in hand like this.

My studies were continued. I was not regarded as a dunce at the High School. I always enjoyed the affection of my teachers. Certificates of progress and character used to be sent to the parents every year. I never had a bad certificate. In fact, I even won prizes after I passed out of the second standard. In the fifth and sixth I obtained scholarships of rupees four and ten respectively, an achievement for which I have to thank good luck more than my own merit. For the scholarships were not open to all, but reserved for the best boys amongst those coming from the Sorath Division of Kathiawad. And in those days there could not have been many boys from Sorath in a class of forty to fifty.

I continued my studies. At the High School, I was not considered a dunce. My teachers were always fond of me. Every year, reports on our progress and character were sent to our parents. I never received a bad report. In fact, I even won prizes after completing the second standard. In the fifth and sixth standards, I received scholarships of four and ten rupees, respectively. I owe this achievement more to good luck than to my own merit. The scholarships were not open to everyone. They were reserved for the best boys from the Sorath Division of Kathiawad. In those days, there could not have been many boys from Sorath in a class of forty to fifty.

My own recollection is that I had not any high regard for my ability. I used to be astonished whenever I won prizes and scholarships. But I very jealously guarded my character. The least little blemish drew tears from my eyes. When I merited, or seemed to the teacher to merit a rebuke, it was unbearable for me. I remember having once received corporal punishment. I did not so much mind the punishment, as the fact that it was considered my desert. I wept piteously. That was when I was in the first or second standard. There was another such incident during the time when I was in the seventh standard. Dorabji Edulji Gimi was the headmaster then. He was popular among boys, as he was a disciplinarian, a man of method and a good teacher. He had made gymnastics and cricket compulsory for boys of the upper standards. I disliked both. I never took part in any exercise, cricket or football, before they were made compulsory. My shyness was one of the reasons for this aloofness, which I now see was wrong. I then had the false notion that gymnastics had nothing to do with education. Today I know that physical training should have as much place in the curriculum as mental training.

As I remember it, I did not think highly of my abilities. I was astonished whenever I won prizes and scholarships. But I guarded my character very carefully. The slightest blemish brought tears to my eyes. It was unbearable when I deserved a teacher’s rebuke, or when the teacher thought I deserved one. I remember being physically punished once. I minded the punishment less than the fact that I was thought to deserve it. I wept pitifully. I was in the first or second grade then. Another such incident happened when I was in the seventh grade. Dorabji Edulji Gimi was the headmaster then. He was popular with the boys because he maintained discipline, was methodical, and was a good teacher. He had made gymnastics and cricket compulsory for boys in the upper grades. I disliked both. Before they became compulsory, I had never taken part in exercise, cricket, or football. My shyness was one reason I stayed away. I now see that staying away was wrong. At the time, I wrongly thought that gymnastics had nothing to do with education. Today I know that physical training should have as much place in the curriculum as mental training.

I may mention, however, that I was none the worse for abstaining from exercise. That was because I had read in books about the benefits of long walks in the open air, and having liked the advice, I had formed a habit of taking walks, which has still remained with me. These walks gave me a fairly hardy constitution.

I should mention, however, that going without exercise did me no harm. That was because I had read about the benefits of long walks outdoors. I liked the advice and got into the habit of walking, which I still keep up. These walks gave me a fairly strong constitution.

The reason of my dislike for gymnastics was my keen desire to serve as nurse to my father. As soon as the school closed, I would hurry home and begin serving him. Compulsory exercise came directly in the way of this service. I requested Mr. Gimi to exempt me from gymnastics so that I might be free to serve my father. But he would not listen to me. Now it so happened that one Saturday, when we had our school in the morning, I had to go from home to the school for gymnastics at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. I had no watch, and the clouds deceived me. Before I reached the school the boys had all left. The next day Mr. Gimi examining the roll found me marked absent. Being asked the reason for absence, I told him what had happened. He refused to believe me and ordered me to pay a fine of one or two annas (I cannot now recall how much).

I disliked gymnastics because I wanted so much to nurse my father. As soon as school ended, I would hurry home to care for him. Required exercise directly interfered with this care. I asked Mr. Gimi to excuse me from gymnastics so that I could care for my father. But he would not listen. One Saturday, we had school in the morning. I had to return from home for gymnastics at 4 o’clock that afternoon. I had no watch, and the clouds misled me about the time. By the time I reached school, all the boys had left. The next day, Mr. Gimi checked the attendance record and found that I had been marked absent. When he asked why I had been absent, I told him what had happened. He refused to believe me and ordered me to pay a fine of one or two annas. I cannot now remember how much it was.

I was convicted of lying! That deeply pained me. How was I to prove my innocence? There was no way. I cried in deep anguish. I saw that a man of truth must also be a man of care. This was the first and last instance of my carelessness in school. I have a faint recollection that I finally succeeded in getting the fine remitted.

I was found guilty of lying! This hurt me deeply. How could I prove I was innocent? There was no way. I cried in deep distress. I realized that a truthful person must also be careful. This was the first and last time I was careless at school. I vaguely remember that I eventually succeeded in having the fine canceled.

The exemption from exercise was of course obtained, as my father wrote himself to the Headmaster saying that he wanted me at home after school. But though I was none the worse for having neglected exercise, I am still paying the penalty of another neglect. I do not know whence I got the notion that good handwriting was not a necessary part of education, but I retained it until I went to England. When later, especially in South Africa, I saw the beautiful handwriting of lawyers and young men born and educated in South Africa, I was ashamed of myself and repented of my neglect. I saw that bad handwriting should be regarded as a sign of an imperfect education. I tried later to improve mine, but it was too late. I could never repair the neglect of my youth. Let every young man and woman be warned by my example, and understand that good handwriting is a necessary part of education. I am now of opinion that children should first be taught the art of drawing before learning how to write. Let the child learn his letters by observation as he does different objects, such as flowers, birds, etc., and let him learn handwriting only after he has learnt to draw objects. He will then write a beautifully formed hand.

Of course, I was excused from exercise because my father wrote to the Headmaster himself. He said he wanted me at home after school. But although missing exercise did me no harm, I am still paying the price for another neglect. I do not know where I got the idea that good handwriting was not a necessary part of education. But I held on to that idea until I went to England. Later, especially in South Africa, I saw the beautiful handwriting of lawyers and young men born and educated there. I felt ashamed and regretted my neglect. I saw that bad handwriting should be considered a sign of an incomplete education. Later, I tried to improve mine, but it was too late. I could never make up for neglecting it in my youth. Let every young man and woman take warning from my example. Good handwriting is a necessary part of education. I now believe that children should be taught to draw before they learn to write. Let a child learn letters by looking at them, just as they learn to recognize flowers, birds, and other objects. Only after learning to draw objects should the child learn handwriting. Then the child will write with beautifully formed letters.

Two more reminiscences of my school days are worth recording. I had lost one year because of my marriage, and the teacher wanted me to make good the loss by skipping a class—a privilege usually allowed to industrious boys. I therefore had only six months in the third standard and was promoted to the fourth after the examinations which are followed by the summer vacation. English became the medium of instruction in most subjects from the fourth standard. I found myself completely at sea. Geometry was a new subject in which I was not particularly strong and the English medium made it still more difficult for me. The teacher taught the subject very well, but I could not follow him. Often I would lose heart and think of going back to the third standard, feeling that the packing of two years’ studies into a single year was too ambitious. Yet this would not only discredit me, but also the teacher; because counting on my industry he had recommended my promotion. So the fear of the double discredit kept me to my post. When, however, with much effort I reached the thirteenth proposition of Euclid, the utter simplicity of the subject was suddenly revealed to me. A subject which only required a pure and simple use of one’s reasoning powers could not be difficult. Ever since that time Geometry has been both easy and interesting for me.

Two more memories of my school days are worth recording. I had lost a year because of my marriage. My teacher wanted me to make up for it by skipping a class. This was a privilege usually given to hardworking boys. So I spent only six months in the third standard. After the examinations, which were followed by the summer vacation, I was promoted to the fourth standard. From the fourth standard onward, most subjects were taught in English. I felt completely lost. Geometry was a new subject, and I was not particularly good at it. Learning it in English made it even harder. The teacher taught geometry very well, but I could not follow him. I often became discouraged and thought of going back to the third standard. I felt that fitting two years of study into one was too ambitious. But going back would bring discredit not only on me, but also on the teacher. He had recommended my promotion because he counted on my hard work. Fear of bringing discredit on us both kept me going. After much effort, however, I reached the thirteenth proposition of Euclid. Suddenly, I saw how utterly simple geometry was. A subject that required nothing more than the pure and simple use of reason could not be difficult. Ever since then, I have found geometry both easy and interesting.

Sanskrit however proved a harder task. In Geometry there was nothing to memorise, whereas in Sanskrit, I thought, everything had to be learnt by heart. This subject also was commenced from the fourth standard. As soon as I entered the sixth I became disheartened. The teacher was a hard taskmaster, anxious, as I thought, to force the boys. There was a sort of rivalry going on between the Sanskrit and the Persian teachers. The Persian teacher was lenient. The boys used to talk among themselves that Persian was very easy and that the Persian teacher very good and considerate to the students. The ‘easiness’ tempted me and one day I sat in the Persian class. The Sanskrit teacher was grieved. He called me to his side and said: ‘How can you forget that you are the son of a Vaishnava father? Won’t you learn the language of your own religion? If you have any difficulty, why not come to me? I want to teach you students Sanskrit to the best of my ability. As you proceed further, you will find in it things of absorbing interest. You should not lose heart. Come and sit again in the Sanskrit class.’

Sanskrit, however, proved more difficult. In Geometry, there was nothing to memorize, but I thought everything in Sanskrit had to be memorized. We also began Sanskrit in the fourth standard. As soon as I entered the sixth standard, I became discouraged. The teacher was strict, and I thought he wanted to push the boys hard. There was a kind of rivalry between the Sanskrit and Persian teachers. The Persian teacher was lenient. The boys told each other that Persian was very easy and that the teacher was very good and considerate toward students. The promise of an ‘easy’ subject tempted me, and one day I sat in the Persian class. The Sanskrit teacher was upset. He called me over and said: ‘How can you forget that you are the son of a Vaishnava father? Won’t you learn the language of your own religion? If you have any difficulty, why not come to me? I want to teach you students Sanskrit as well as I can. As you progress, you will find things in Sanskrit that are deeply interesting. You should not lose heart. Come and sit in the Sanskrit class again.’

This kindness put me to shame. I could not disregard my teacher’s affection. Today, I cannot but think with gratitude of Krishnashankar Pandya. For if I had not acquired the little Sanskrit that I learnt then, I should have found it difficult to take any interest in our sacred books. In fact I deeply regret that I was not able to acquire a more thorough knowledge of the language, because I have since realised that every Hindu boy and girl should possess sound Sanskrit learning.

This kindness made me feel ashamed. I could not ignore my teacher’s affection. Even today, I think of Krishnashankar Pandya with gratitude. If I had not learned the little Sanskrit I did then, I would have found it difficult to take any interest in our sacred books. In fact, I deeply regret not learning the language more thoroughly. Since then, I have realized that every Hindu boy and girl should have a solid knowledge of Sanskrit.

It is now my opinion that in all Indian curricula of higher education there should be a place for Hindi, Sanskrit, Persian, Arabic and English, besides of course the vernacular. This big list need not frighten any one. If our education were more systematic, and the boys free from the burden of having to learn their subjects through a foreign medium, I am sure learning all these languages would not be an irksome task, but a perfect pleasure. A scientific knowledge of one language makes a knowledge of other languages comparatively easy.

I now believe that all Indian higher education curricula should include Hindi, Sanskrit, Persian, Arabic, and English, as well as the local language, of course. This long list need not frighten anyone. If our education were more systematic, and boys did not have to learn their subjects in a foreign language, I am sure learning all these languages would not be a chore. It would be a real pleasure. A systematic knowledge of one language makes learning other languages comparatively easy.

In reality, Hindi, Gujarati and Sanskrit may be regarded as one language, and Persian and Arabic also as one. Though Persian belongs to the Aryan, and Arabic to the Semitic, family of languages, there is a close relationship between Persian and Arabic, because both claim their full growth through the rise of Islam. Urdu I have not regarded as a distinct language, because it has adopted the Hindi grammar and its vocabulary is mainly Persian and Arabic, and he who would learn good Urdu must learn Persian and Arabic, as one who would learn good Gujarati, Hindi, Bengali, or Marathi, must learn Sanskrit.

In reality, Hindi, Gujarati, and Sanskrit may be regarded as one language, and Persian and Arabic as another. Persian belongs to the Aryan family of languages, while Arabic belongs to the Semitic family. Even so, Persian and Arabic are closely related because both reached their full development through the rise of Islam. I have not regarded Urdu as a distinct language because it uses Hindi grammar and draws most of its vocabulary from Persian and Arabic. Anyone who wants to learn good Urdu must learn Persian and Arabic, just as anyone who wants to learn good Gujarati, Hindi, Bengali, or Marathi must learn Sanskrit.