A Tragedy (Continued)

So the day came. It is difficult fully to describe my condition. There was, on the one hand, the zeal for ‘reform,’ and the novelty of making a momentous departure in life. There was on the other the shame of hiding like a thief to do this very thing. I cannot say which of the two swayed me the most. We went in search of a lonely spot by the river, and there I saw for the first time in my life,—meat. There was baker’s bread also. I relished neither. The goat’s meat was as tough as leather. I simply could not eat it. I was sick and had to leave off eating.

So the day came. It is hard to describe exactly how I felt. On one hand, I was eager for ‘reform’ and excited by the novelty of making a momentous change in my life. On the other hand, I felt ashamed to hide like a thief while making this change. I cannot say which feeling influenced me more. We went looking for a quiet spot by the river. There, for the first time in my life, I saw meat. There was also bread from a baker. I enjoyed neither. The goat’s meat was as tough as leather. I simply could not eat it. I felt sick and had to stop eating.

I had a very bad night afterwards. A horrible nightmare haunted me. Every time I dropped off to sleep it would seem as though a live goat were bleating inside me, and I would jump up full of remorse. But then I would remind myself that meat-eating was a duty and so become more cheerful.

I had a terrible night afterward. A horrible nightmare haunted me. Every time I fell asleep, I felt as if a live goat were bleating inside me. I would wake up filled with remorse. But then I would remind myself that eating meat was a duty, and I would feel more cheerful.

My friend was not a man to give in easily. He now began to cook various delicacies with meat, and dress them neatly. And for dining, no longer the secluded spot on the river was chosen, but a state house, with its dining hall, and tables and chairs, about which my friend had made arrangements in collusion with the chief cook there.

My friend was not one to give up easily. He began cooking various meat dishes and presenting them neatly. We no longer ate in the secluded spot by the river. Instead, we ate in the dining hall of a state house, with tables and chairs. My friend had made these arrangements secretly with the chief cook there.

This bait had its effect. I got over my dislike for bread, forswore my compassion for the goats, and became a, relisher of meat-dishes, if not of meat itself. This went on for about a year. But not more than half a dozen meat-feasts were enjoyed in all; because the state house was not available every day, and there was the obvious difficulty about preparing frequently expensive savoury meat-dishes. I had no money to pay for this ‘reform.’ My friend had therefore always to find the wherewithal. I had no knowledge where he found it. But find it he did, because he was bent on turning me into a meat-eater. But even his means must have been limited, and hence these feasts had necessarily to be few and far between.

The bait worked. I got over my dislike of bread and gave up my compassion for the goats. I came to enjoy meat dishes, if not meat itself. This went on for about a year. But we enjoyed no more than half a dozen meat feasts in all. The state house was not available every day, and preparing tasty meat dishes often was obviously difficult and expensive. I had no money to pay for this ‘reform.’ My friend therefore always had to find the money. I did not know where he found it. But he did find it, because he was determined to make me a meat eater. Even his means must have been limited, though, so these feasts had to be few and far between.

Whenever I had occasion to indulge in these surreptitious feasts, dinner at home was out of the question. My mother would naturally ask me to come and take my food and want to know the reason why I did not wish to eat. I would say to her, ‘I have no appetite today; there is something wrong with my digestion.’ It was not without compunction that I devised these pretexts. I knew I was lying, and lying to my mother. I also knew that if my mother and father came to know of my having become a meat-eater they would be deeply shocked. This knowledge was gnawing at my heart.

Whenever I had one of these secret feasts, I could not eat dinner at home. My mother would naturally ask me to come and eat and want to know why I did not want food. I would tell her, ‘I have no appetite today. Something is wrong with my digestion.’ I felt guilty about making these excuses. I knew I was lying, and lying to my mother. I also knew that if my mother and father learned that I had started eating meat, they would be deeply shocked. This knowledge gnawed at my heart.

Therefore I said to myself: ‘Though it is essential to eat meat, and also essential to take up food ‘reform’ in the country, yet deceiving and lying to one’s father and mother is worse than abstinence from meat. In their life-time therefore meat-eating must be out of the question. When they are no more and when I have found my freedom, I will eat meat openly, but until that moment arrives I will abstain from it.’

So I said to myself: ‘Though eating meat is essential, and so is promoting food “reform” in the country, deceiving and lying to my parents is worse than not eating meat. So I must not eat meat while they are alive. When they are gone and I have found my freedom, I will eat meat openly. But until then, I will not eat it.’

This decision I communicated to my friend, and I have never since gone back to meat. My parents never knew that two of their sons had become meat-eaters.

I told my friend of my decision, and I have never eaten meat since. My parents never knew that two of their sons had begun eating meat.

I abjured meat out of the purity of my desire not to lie to my parents, but I did not abjure the company of my friend. My zeal for reforming him had proved disastrous for me, and all the time I was completely unconscious of the fact.

I gave up meat because I sincerely wanted to avoid lying to my parents, but I did not give up my friend’s company. My eagerness to reform him had been disastrous for me, and I was completely unaware of this all the time.

The same company would have led me into faithlessness to my wife. But I was saved by the skin of my teeth. My friend once took me to a brothel. He sent me in with the necessary instructions. It was all prearranged. The bill had already been paid. I went into the jaws of sin, but God in His infinite mercy protected me against myself. I was almost struck blind and dumb in this den of vice. I sat near her on her bed, but I was tongue-tied. She naturally lost patience with me, and showed me the door, with abuses and insults. I then felt as though my manhood had been injured, and wished to sink into the ground for shame. But I have ever since given thanks to God for having saved me. I can recall four more similar incidents in my life, and in most of them my good fortune, rather than any effort on my part, saved me. From a strictly ethical point of view, all these occasions must be regarded as moral lapses; for the carnal desire was there, and it was as good as the act. But from the ordinary point of view, a man who is saved from physically committing sin is regarded as saved. And I was saved only in that sense. There are some actions from which an escape is a godsend both for the man who escapes and for those about him. Man, as soon as he gets back his consciousness of right, is thankful to the Divine mercy for the escape. As we know that a man often succumbs to temptation, however much he may resist it, we also know that providence often intercedes and saves him in spite of himself. How all this happens,—how far a man is free and how far a creature of circumstances,—how far free-will comes into play and where fate enters on the scene,—all this is a mystery and will remain a mystery.

The same company would have led me to be unfaithful to my wife. But I escaped by the skin of my teeth. Once, my friend took me to a brothel. He sent me in after telling me what to do. Everything had been arranged in advance. The bill had already been paid. I entered the jaws of sin, but God, in his infinite mercy, protected me from myself. In that den of vice, I was almost struck blind and speechless. I sat beside the woman on her bed, but I could not speak. Naturally, she lost patience with me and showed me the door, hurling abuse and insults. I felt that my manhood had been wounded and wanted to sink into the ground with shame. But ever since, I have thanked God for saving me. I can recall four more similar incidents in my life. In most of them, good fortune saved me rather than any effort of my own. From a strictly ethical point of view, all these occasions must be considered moral lapses. The sexual desire was there, and it was as good as the act itself. But from the ordinary point of view, a man is considered saved if he avoids physically committing a sin. I was saved only in that sense. Escaping certain actions is a godsend both for the person who escapes and for those around him. As soon as he regains his sense of right, he thanks divine mercy for his escape. We know that a man often gives in to temptation, however much he resists it. We also know that providence often intervenes and saves him in spite of himself. How does all this happen? How free is a man, and how much is he shaped by circumstances? How much does free will matter, and where does fate enter the picture? All this is a mystery and will remain a mystery.

But to go on with the story. Even this was far from opening my eyes to the viciousness of my friend’s company. I therefore had many more bitter draughts in store for me, until my eyes were actually opened by an ocular demonstration of some of his lapses quite unexpected by me. But of them later, as we are proceeding chronologically.

But to continue the story. Even this was far from making me see how harmful my friend’s company was. So I had many more bitter experiences ahead of me. My eyes were finally opened when I saw some of his faults for myself. They were faults I had not expected. But I will come to them later, since I am telling the story in order.

One thing, however, I must mention now, as it pertains to the same period. One of the reasons of my differences with my wife was undoubtedly the company of this friend. I was both a devoted and a jealous husband, and this friend fanned the flame of my suspicions about my wife. I never could doubt his veracity. And I have never forgiven myself the violence of which I have been guilty in often having pained my wife by acting on his information. Only a Hindu wife tolerates these hardships, and that is why I have regarded woman as an incarnation of tolerance. A servant wrongly suspected may throw up his job, a son in the same case may leave his father’s roof, and a friend may put an end to the friendship. The wife, if she suspects her husband, will keep quiet, but if the husband suspects her, she is ruined. Where is she to go? A Hindu wife may not seek divorce in a law-court. Law has no remedy for her. And I can never forget or forgive myself for having driven my wife to that desperation.

One thing, however, I must mention now because it happened during the same period. My friendship with this man was undoubtedly one reason for the disagreements between my wife and me. I was both a devoted and a jealous husband, and my friend fueled my suspicions about my wife. I could never doubt his honesty. I have never forgiven myself for the violence I committed by often hurting my wife when I acted on what he told me. Only a Hindu wife tolerates such hardships, and that is why I have regarded woman as the embodiment of tolerance. A servant who is wrongly suspected may quit, and a son in the same situation may leave his father’s home. A friend may end the friendship. If a wife suspects her husband, she will keep quiet. But if a husband suspects his wife, she is ruined. Where can she go? A Hindu wife may not seek a divorce in court. The law offers no remedy for her. And I can never forget or forgive myself for having driven my wife to such desperation.