A Month With Gokhale, Part II

Whilst living under Gokhale's roof I far from being a stay-at-home.

While living at Gokhale's home, I was far from a stay-at-home.

I had told my Christian friends in South Africa, that in India I would meet the Christian Indians, and acquaint myself with their condition. I had heard of Babu Kalicharan Banerji and held him in high regard. He took a prominent part in the Congress, and I had none of the misgivings about him, that I had about the average Christian Indian, who stood aloof from the Congress, and isolated himself from Hindus and Musalmans. I told Gokhale, that I was thinking of meeting him. He said: ‘What is the good of your seeing him? He is a very good man, but I am afraid he will not satisfy you. I know him very well. However you can certainly meet him if you like.’

I had told my Christian friends in South Africa that I would meet Christian Indians in India and learn about their situation. I had heard of Babu Kalicharan Banerji and held him in high regard. He played a prominent part in the Congress. I had none of the misgivings about him that I had about the average Christian Indian. Such a person stayed away from the Congress and kept apart from Hindus and Musalmans. I told Gokhale that I was thinking of meeting him. He said: ‘What good will it do to see him? He is a very good man, but I am afraid he will not satisfy you. I know him very well. However, you can certainly meet him if you like.’

I sought an appointment, which he readily gave me. When I went, I found that his wife was on her death-bed. His house was simple. In the Congress I had seen him in a coat and trousers, but I was glad to find him now wearing a Bengal dhoti and shirt. I liked his simple mode of dress though I myself then wore a Parsi coat and trousers. Without much ado I presented my difficulties to him. He asked: ‘Do you believe in the doctrine of original sin?’

I asked for an appointment, and he readily agreed to see me. When I arrived, I found that his wife was dying. His house was simple. At the Congress, I had seen him wearing a coat and trousers. But I was glad to find him now wearing a Bengal dhoti and shirt. I liked his simple way of dressing, though I wore a Parsi coat and trousers myself at the time. I promptly explained my difficulties to him. He asked: ‘Do you believe in the doctrine of original sin?’

‘I do,’ said I.

‘I do,’ I said.

‘Well then, Hinduism offers no absolution therefrom, Christianity does;’ and added: ‘The wages of sin is death, and the Bible says that the only way of deliverance is surrender unto Jesus.’

‘Well then, Hinduism offers no forgiveness for that, but Christianity does.’ He added: ‘The wages of sin is death. The Bible says that the only way to be saved is to surrender to Jesus.’

I put forward Bhakti-marga (the path of devotion) of the Bhagavad Gita, but to no avail. I thanked him for his goodness. He failed to satisfy me, but I benefited by the interview.

I suggested Bhakti-marga (the path of devotion) from the Bhagavad Gita, but it did not help. I thanked him for his kindness. He did not satisfy me, but I benefited from the conversation.

During these days I walked up and down the streets of Calcutta. I went to most places on foot. I met Justice Mitra and Sir Gurudas Banerji, whose help I wanted in my work in South Africa. And about this time I met Raja Sir Pyarimohan Mukarji.

During those days, I walked up and down the streets of Calcutta. I went to most places on foot. I met Justice Mitra and Sir Gurudas Banerji. I wanted their help with my work in South Africa. Around this time, I also met Raja Sir Pyarimohan Mukarji.

Kalicharan Banerji had spoken to me about the Kali temple, which I was eager to see, especially as I had read about it in books. So I went there one day. Justice Mitra’s house was in the same locality, and I therefore went to the temple on the same day that I visited him. On the way I saw a stream of sheep going to be sacrificed to Kali. Rows of beggars lined the lane leading to the temple. There were religious mendicants too, and even in those days I was sternly opposed to giving alms to sturdy beggars. A crowd of them pursued me. One of such men was found seated on a verandah. He stopped me, and accosted me: ‘Whither are you going, my boy?’ I replied to him.

Kalicharan Banerji had told me about the Kali temple, and I was eager to see it, especially because I had read about it in books. So I went there one day. Justice Mitra’s house was in the same area, so I visited the temple on the same day I visited him. On the way, I saw a stream of sheep being led to be sacrificed to Kali. Rows of beggars lined the lane leading to the temple. There were religious mendicants too, and even then I was strongly opposed to giving alms to able-bodied beggars. A crowd of them followed me. One of these men was sitting on a verandah. He stopped me and asked, ‘Where are you going, my boy?’ I answered him.

He asked my companion and me to sit down, which we did.

He asked my companion and me to sit down, and we did.

I asked him: ‘Do you regard this sacrifice as religion?’

I asked him: ‘Do you consider this sacrifice a religious act?’

‘Who would regard killing of animals as religion?’

‘Who would consider killing animals a religious act?’

‘Then, why don’t you preach against it?’

‘Then, why don’t you speak out against it?’

‘That’s not my business. Our business is to worship God.’

‘That’s not my business. Our business is to worship God.’

‘But could you not find any other place in which to worship God?’

‘But couldn’t you find another place to worship God?’

‘All places are equally good for us. The people are like a flock of sheep, following where leaders lead them. It is no business of us, sadhus.’

‘All places are equally good for us. The people are like a flock of sheep, following their leaders. It is none of our business as sadhus.’

We did not prolong the discussion but passed on to the temple. We were greeted by rivers of blood. I could not bear to stand there. I was exasperated and restless. I have never forgotten that sight.

We did not continue the discussion but went on to the temple. We were met by rivers of blood. I could not bear to stand there. I was upset and restless. I have never forgotten that sight.

That very evening I had an invitation to dinner at a party of Bengali friends. There I spoke to a friend about this cruel form of worship. He said: ‘The sheep don’t feel anything. The noise and the drum-beating there deaden all sensation of pain.’

That same evening, I was invited to dinner with a group of Bengali friends. There, I spoke to a friend about this cruel form of worship. He said: ‘The sheep don’t feel anything. The noise and drumming there deaden all feeling of pain.’

I could not swallow this, I told him that if the sheep had speech, they would tell a different tale. I felt, that the cruel custom ought to be stopped. I thought of the story of Buddha, but I also saw that the task was beyond my capacity.

I could not accept this. I told him that if the sheep could speak, they would tell a different story. I felt that the cruel custom should be stopped. I thought of the story of Buddha, but I also saw that the task was beyond my ability.

I hold today the same opinion as I held then. To my mind the life of a lamb is no less precious than that of a human being. I should be unwilling to take the life of a lamb for the sake of the human body. I hold, that the more helpless a creature, the more entitled it is to protection by man from the cruelty of man. But he who has not qualified himself for such service is unable to afford to it any protection. I must go through more self-purification and sacrifice, before I can hope to save these lambs from this unholy sacrifice. Today I think I must die pining for this self-purification and sacrifice. It is my constant prayer, that there may be born on earth some great spirit, man or woman, fired with divine pity, who will deliver us from this heinous sin, save the lives of the innocent creatures, and purify the temple. How is it that Bengal with all its knowledge, intelligence, sacrifice, and emotion tolerates this slaughter?

I still hold the same opinion today. To me, the life of a lamb is no less precious than a human life. I would be unwilling to kill a lamb for the sake of the human body. I believe that the more helpless a creature is, the more it deserves human protection from human cruelty. But anyone who has not prepared for such service cannot offer that protection. I must undergo more self-purification and make greater sacrifices before I can hope to save these lambs from this unholy sacrifice. Today, I think I must die longing for this self-purification and sacrifice. I constantly pray that some great spirit, a man or a woman, will be born on earth, filled with divine compassion. May that person free us from this terrible sin, save the innocent creatures’ lives, and purify the temple. How can Bengal, with all its knowledge, intelligence, sacrifice, and emotion, tolerate this slaughter?