Some Experiences

The Port of Natal is Durban, also known as Port Natal. Abdulla Sheth was there to receive me. As the ship arrived at the quay, and I watched the people coming on board to meet their friends, I observed that the Indians were not held in much respect. I could not fail to notice a sort of snobbishness about the manner in which those who knew Abdulla Sheth behaved towards him, and it stung me. Abdulla Sheth had got used to it. Those who looked at me did so with a certain amount of curiosity. My dress marked me out from other Indians. I had a frock-coat and a turban, an imitation of the Bengal pugree.

Durban is the port of Natal, and it is also known as Port Natal. Abdulla Sheth was there to meet me. As the ship reached the quay, I watched people come aboard to meet their friends. I noticed that Indians were not treated with much respect. I could not help noticing the snobbish way those who knew Abdulla Sheth behaved toward him. It stung me, though Abdulla Sheth had grown used to it. Those who looked at me did so with some curiosity. My clothes set me apart from other Indians. I wore a frock-coat and a turban, an imitation of the Bengal pugree.

I was taken to the firm’s quarters and shown into the room set apart for me, next to Abdulla Sheth’s. He did not understand me, I could not understand him. He read the papers his brother had sent through me, and felt more puzzled. He thought his brother had sent him a white elephant. My style of dress and living struck him as being expensive like that of the Europeans. There was no particular work then which could be given me. Their case was going on in the Transvaal. There was no meaning in sending me there immediately. And how far could he trust my ability and honesty? He would not be in Pretoria to watch me. The defendants were in Pretoria, and for aught he knew, they might bring undue influence to bear on me. And if work in connection with the case in question was not to be entrusted to me, what work could I be given to do, as all other work could be done much better by his clerks? The clerks could be brought to book, if they did wrong. Could I be, if I also happened to err? So if no work in connection with the case could be given me, I should have to be kept for nothing.

I was taken to the firm’s quarters and shown to my room, next to Abdulla Sheth’s. He did not understand me, and I could not understand him. He read the papers his brother had sent through me and felt even more puzzled. He thought his brother had sent him a white elephant. My clothes and way of life seemed expensive to him, like those of Europeans. There was no particular work he could give me then. The firm’s case was going on in the Transvaal, and there was no point in sending me there immediately. How far could he trust my ability and honesty? He would not be in Pretoria to keep an eye on me. The defendants were there, and for all he knew, they might try to influence me improperly. If he could not trust me with work on the case, what work could he give me? His clerks could do all the other work much better. The clerks could be held accountable if they did wrong. Could I be held accountable if I made a mistake too? So if he could give me no work on the case, he would have to keep me on for nothing.

Abdulla Sheth was practically unlettered, but he had a rich fund of experience. He had an acute intellect and was conscious of it. By practice he had picked up just sufficient English for conversational purposes, but that served him for carrying on all his business, whether it was dealing with Bank Managers and European merchants or explaining his case to his counsel. The Indians held him in very high esteem. His firm was then the biggest, or at any rate one of the biggest, of the Indian firms. With all these advantages he had one disadvantage,—he was by nature suspicious.

Abdulla Sheth had almost no formal education, but he had a wealth of experience. He had a sharp mind and knew it. Through practice, he had learned just enough English to hold a conversation. But that was enough for him to conduct all his business. He could deal with bank managers and European merchants and explain his case to his lawyer. Indians held him in very high regard. His firm was then the largest, or at least one of the largest, Indian firms. Despite all these advantages, he had one disadvantage: he was suspicious by nature.

He was proud of Islam and loved to discourse on Islamic philosophy. Though he did not know Arabic, his acquaintance with the Holy Koran and Islamic literature in general was fairly good. Illustrations he had in plenty, always ready at hand. Contact with him gave me a fair amount of practical knowledge of Islam. When we came closer to each other, we had long discussions on religious topics.

He was proud of Islam and loved to discuss Islamic philosophy. Though he did not know Arabic, he knew the Holy Koran and Islamic literature fairly well. He always had plenty of examples ready. Through him, I gained a fair amount of practical knowledge about Islam. As we grew closer, we had long discussions about religion.

On the second or third day of my arrival, he took me to see the Durban court. There he introduced me to several people and seated me next to his attorney. The Magistrate kept staring at me and finally asked me to take off my turban, which I refused to do, and left the court.

On the second or third day after I arrived, he took me to the court in Durban. There he introduced me to several people and seated me next to his lawyer. The magistrate kept staring at me and finally asked me to remove my turban. I refused and left the court.

So here too there was fighting in store for me.

So here too, I had a fight ahead of me.

Abdulla Sheth explained to me why some Indians were required to take off their turbans. Those wearing the Musalman costume might, he said, keep their turbans on, but the other Indians on entering a Court had to take theirs off as a rule.

Abdulla Sheth explained why some Indians had to remove their turbans. He said Indians wearing Muslim dress could keep their turbans on. But other Indians generally had to remove theirs when entering a court.

I must enter into some details to make this nice distinction intelligible. In the course of these two or three days, I could see that the Indians were divided into different groups. One was that of Musalman merchants, who would call themselves ‘Arabs.’ Another was that of Hindu and yet another of Parsi clerks. The Hindu clerks were neither here nor there, unless they cast in their lot with the ‘Arabs.’ The Parsi clerks would call themselves Persians. These three classes had some social relations with one another. But by far the largest class was that composed of Tamil, Telugu and North Indian indentured and freed labourers. The indentured labourers were those who went to Natal on an agreement to serve for five years, and came to be known there as girmitiyas from girmit which was the corrupt form of the English word ‘agreement.’ The other three classes had none but business relations with this class. Englishmen called them ‘coolies,’ and as the majority of Indians belonged to the labouring class, all Indians were called ‘coolies,’ or ‘samis.’ ‘Sami’ is a Tamil suffix occuring after many Tamil names, and it is nothing else than the Sanskrit Swami, meaning a master. Whenever therefore an Indian resented being addressed as a ‘sami’ and had enough wit in him, he would try to return the compliment in this wise: ‘You may call me sami, but you forget that sami means a master. I am not your master!’ Some Englishmen would wince at this, while others would get angry, swear at the Indian and if there was a chance, would even belabour him; for ‘sami’ to him was nothing better than a term of contempt. To interpret it to mean a master amounted to an insult!

I must give some details to make this subtle distinction clear. Over those two or three days, I saw that the Indians were divided into different groups. One group consisted of Muslim merchants, who called themselves ‘Arabs.’ Another consisted of Hindu clerks, and yet another of Parsi clerks. The Hindu clerks had no clear place, unless they joined the ‘Arabs.’ The Parsi clerks called themselves Persians. These three groups had some social relations with one another. But by far the largest group consisted of Tamil, Telugu and North Indian indentured and freed labourers. The indentured labourers had gone to Natal under an agreement to work for five years. They came to be known there as girmitiyas, from girmit, a distorted form of the English word ‘agreement.’ The other three groups had only business relations with these labourers. Englishmen called the labourers ‘coolies.’ Since most Indians belonged to the labouring class, all Indians were called ‘coolies,’ or ‘samis.’ ‘Sami’ is a Tamil suffix found at the end of many Tamil names. It is simply the Sanskrit Swami, meaning a master. So an Indian who resented being addressed as ‘sami,’ and was quick-witted enough, would try to return the compliment like this: ‘You may call me sami, but you forget that sami means a master. I am not your master!’ Some Englishmen would wince at this. Others would get angry and swear at the Indian, and if they had the chance, would even beat him. To the Englishman, ‘sami’ was nothing more than a term of contempt. To interpret it as meaning a master was an insult!

I was hence known as a ‘coolie barrister.’ The merchants were known as ‘coolie merchants.’ The original meaning of the word ‘coolie’ was thus forgotten, and it became a common appellation for all Indians. The Musalman merchant would resent this and say: ‘I am not a coolie, I am an Arab,’ or ‘I am a merchant,’ and the Englishman, if courteous, would apologise to him.

So I was known as a ‘coolie barrister.’ The merchants were known as ‘coolie merchants.’ The word ‘coolie’ lost its original meaning and became a common name for all Indians. A Muslim merchant would resent being called a coolie and say: ‘I am not a coolie, I am an Arab,’ or ‘I am a merchant.’ If the Englishman was courteous, he would apologize to him.

The question of wearing the turban had a great importance in this state of things. Taking off one’s Indian turban would be pocketing an insult. So I thought I had better bid good-bye to the Indian turban and begin wearing an English hat, which would save me from the insult and the unpleasant controversy.

In these circumstances, the question of wearing a turban was very important. Taking off an Indian turban would mean accepting an insult. So I thought it would be better to give up the Indian turban and wear an English hat instead. That would spare me the insult and the unpleasant controversy.

But Abdulla Sheth disapproved of the idea. He said, ‘If you do anything of the kind, it will have a very bad effect. You will compromise those insisting on wearing Indian turbans. And an Indian turban sits well on your head. If you wear an English hat you wil pass for a waiter.’

But Abdulla Sheth did not approve of the idea. He said, ‘If you do anything like that, it will have a very bad effect. You will undermine those who insist on wearing Indian turbans. And an Indian turban looks good on you. If you wear an English hat, people will mistake you for a waiter.’

There was practical wisdom, patriotism, and a little bit of narrowness in this advice. The wisdom was apparent, and he would not have insisted on the Indian turban except out of patriotism; the slighting reference to the waiter betrayed a kind of narrowness. Amongst the indentured Indians there were three classes—Hindus, Musalmans, and Christians. The last were the children of indentured Indians who became converts to Christianity. Even in 1893 their number was large. They wore the English costume, and the majority of them earned their living by service as waiters in hotels. Abdulla Sheth’s criticism of the English hat was with reference to this class. It was considered demeaning to serve as a waiter in a hotel. The belief persists even today among many.

This advice showed practical wisdom, patriotism, and a little narrowness. The wisdom was clear. He would have insisted on the Indian turban only out of patriotism. But his dismissive reference to the waiter revealed a kind of narrowness. Among indentured Indians there were three groups: Hindus, Musalmans, and Christians. The Christians were the children of indentured Indians who had converted to Christianity. Even in 1893, they were numerous. They wore English clothes, and most earned their living as waiters in hotels. Abdulla Sheth’s criticism of the English hat referred to this group. Working as a hotel waiter was considered demeaning. Many people still believe this today.

On the whole I liked Abdulla Sheth’s advice. I wrote to the press about the incident and defended the wearing of my turban in the court. The question was very much discussed in the papers which described me as an ‘unwelcome visitor’. Thus the incident gave me an unexpected advertisement in South Africa within a few days of my arrival there. Some supported me, while others severely criticised my temerity.

Overall, I liked Abdulla Sheth’s advice. I wrote to the newspapers about the incident and defended wearing my turban in court. The newspapers discussed the issue widely and described me as an ‘unwelcome visitor’. So, within days of arriving in South Africa, the incident brought me unexpected publicity. Some supported me, while others harshly criticized my boldness.

My turban stayed with me practically until the end of my stay in South Africa. When and why I left off wearing any head-dress at all in South Africa we shall see later.

I wore my turban until nearly the end of my stay in South Africa. Later, we shall see when and why I stopped wearing any head covering in South Africa.