A Sacred Memory and Penance

A variety of incidents in my life have conspired to bring me in close contact with people of many creeds and many communities, and my experience with all of them warrants the statement, that I have known no distinction between relatives and strangers, countrymen and foreigners, white and coloured, Hindus and Indians of other faiths, whether Musalmans, Parsis, Christians or Jews. I may say, that my heart has been incapable of making any such distinctions. I cannot claim this as a special virtue, as it is in my very nature, rather than a result of any effort on my part, whereas in the case of ahimsa (non-violence), brahmacharya (celibacy), aparigraha (non-possession) and other cardinal virtues, I am fully conscious of a continuous striving for their cultivation.

Many events in my life have brought me into close contact with people of many faiths and communities. My experience with all of them allows me to say that I have made no distinction between relatives and strangers, or between countrymen and foreigners. Nor have I made distinctions between white and coloured people, or between Hindus and Indians of other faiths, whether Muslims, Parsis, Christians or Jews. I may say that my heart has been incapable of making any such distinctions. I cannot claim this as a special virtue. It is in my nature, rather than the result of any effort on my part. By contrast, I am fully aware of my constant efforts to cultivate ahimsa (non-violence), brahmacharya (celibacy), aparigraha (non-possession) and other cardinal virtues.

When I was practising in Durban, my office clerks often stayed with me, and there were among them Hindus and Christians, or to describe them by their provinces, Gujaratis and Tamilians. I do not recollect having ever regarded them as anything but my kith and kin. I treated them as members of my family, and had unpleasantness with my wife if ever she stood in the way of my treating them as such. One of the clerks was a Christian, born of Panchama parents.

When I was practicing in Durban, my office clerks often stayed with me. Some were Hindus and some were Christians. Some were Gujaratis and some were Tamilians. I do not remember ever thinking of them as anything but family. I treated them as members of my family. If my wife ever stood in the way of that, it caused friction between us. One of the clerks was a Christian, born to Panchama parents.

The house was built after the Western model and the rooms rightly had no outlets for dirty water. Each room had therefore chamber-pots. Rather than have these cleaned by a servant or a sweeper, my wife or I attended to them. The clerks who made themselves completely at home would naturally clean their own pots, but the Christian clerk was a newcomer, and it was our duty to attend to his bedroom. My wife managed the pots of the others, but to clean those used by one who had been a Panchama seemed to her to be the limit, and we fell out. She could not bear the pots being cleaned by me, neither did she like doing it herself. Even today I can recall the picture of her chiding me, her eyes red with anger, and pearl drops streaming down her cheeks, as she descended the ladder, pot in hand. But I was a cruelly kind husband. I regarded myself as her teacher, and so harassed her out of my blind love for her.

The house was built in the Western style, and the rooms rightly had no drains for dirty water. Each room therefore had a chamber pot. Rather than have a servant or sweeper clean the pots, my wife or I took care of them. The clerks who felt completely at home would naturally clean their own pots. But the Christian clerk was a newcomer, and it was our duty to take care of his bedroom. My wife handled the other pots, but cleaning those used by someone who had been a Panchama seemed too much for her. We quarreled over it. She could not bear to see me clean the pots, but she did not want to clean them herself. Even today I can picture her scolding me as she came down the ladder, pot in hand. Her eyes were red with anger, and pearl-like tears streamed down her cheeks. But I was a cruelly kind husband. I saw myself as her teacher, and so I harassed her out of my blind love for her.

I was far from being satisfied by her merely carrying the pot. I would have her do it cheerfully. So I said, raising my voice: ‘I will not stand this nonsense in my house.’

I was far from satisfied with her simply carrying the pot. I wanted her to carry it cheerfully. So I raised my voice and said: ‘I will not put up with this nonsense in my house.’

The words pierced her like an arrow.

The words struck her like an arrow.

She shouted back: ‘Keep your house to yourself and let me go.’ I forgot myself, and the spring of compassion dried up in me. I caught her by the hand, dragged the helpless woman to the gate, which was just opposite the ladder, and proceeded to open it with the intention of pushing her out. The tears were running down her cheeks in torrents, and she cried: ‘Have you no sense of shame? Must you so far forget yourself? Where am I to go? I have no parents or relatives here to harbour me. Being your wife, you think, I must put up with your cuffs and kicks? For Heaven’s sake behave yourself, and shut the gate. Let us not be found making scenes like this!’

She shouted back: ‘Keep your house to yourself and let me go.’ I lost control of myself, and my compassion dried up. I took her by the hand and dragged the helpless woman to the gate, just opposite the ladder. I began to open it, intending to push her out. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she cried: ‘Have you no shame? Have you lost all control of yourself? Where am I to go? I have no parents or relatives here to take me in. Do you think that, because I am your wife, I must put up with your blows and kicks? For Heaven’s sake, behave yourself and shut the gate. Let’s not be seen making a scene like this!’

I put on a brave face, but was really ashamed, and shut the gate. If my wife could not leave me, neither could I leave her. We have had numerous bickerings, but the end has always been peace between us. The wife, with her matchless powers of endurance, has always been the victor.

I put on a brave face, but I was really ashamed, and I shut the gate. If my wife could not leave me, I could not leave her either. We have quarreled many times, but we have always made peace in the end. My wife, with her unmatched ability to endure, has always been the victor.

Today, I am in a position to narrate the incident with some detachment, as it belongs to a period out of which I have fortunately emerged. I am no longer a blind, infatuated husband, I am no more my wife’s teacher. Mrs. Gandhi can, if she will, be as unpeasant to me today, as I used to be to her before. We are tried friends, the one no longer regarding the other as the object of lust. She has been a faithful nurse throughout my illnesses, serving without any thought of reward.

Today, I can tell the story with some detachment because I have fortunately moved beyond that period. I am no longer a blindly infatuated husband, and I am no longer my wife’s teacher. If she wishes, Mrs. Gandhi can be as unpleasant to me today as I used to be to her. We are tried and trusted friends, and neither of us regards the other as an object of lust anymore. She has been a faithful nurse throughout my illnesses, caring for me without any thought of reward.

The incident in question occurred in 1898, when I had no conception of brahmacharya. It was a time, when I thought that the wife was the object, of her husband’s lust, born to do her husband’s behest, rather than a helpmate, a comrade and a partner in the husband’s joys and sorrows.

The incident happened in 1898, when I had no idea of brahmacharya. At the time, I thought a wife existed to satisfy her husband’s lust and obey his wishes. I did not see her as a helper, a companion, and a partner in her husband’s joys and sorrows.

It was in the year 1900 that these ideas underwent a radical transformation, and in 1906 they took concrete shape. But of this I propose to speak in its proper place. Suffice it to say that with the gradual disappearance in me of the carnal appetite, my domestic life became and is becoming more and more peaceful, sweet and happy.

In 1900, these ideas changed radically, and in 1906 they took concrete shape. But I will speak about this at the proper time. For now, it is enough to say that as my sexual desire gradually faded, my home life became more peaceful, sweet, and happy. It continues to become more so.

Let no one conclude from this narrative of a sacred recollection, that we are by any means an ideal couple, or that there is a complete identity of ideals between us. Mrs. Gandhi herself does not perhaps know whether she has any ideals independently of me. It is likely that many of my doings have not her approval even today. We never discuss them, I see no good in discussing them. For she was educated neither by her parents, nor by me at the time when I ought to have done it. But she is blessed with one great quality to a very considerable degree, a quality which most Hindu wives possess in some measure. And it is this; willingly or unwillingly, consciously or unconsciously, she has considered herself blessed in following in my footsteps, and has never stood in the way of my endeavour to lead a life of restraint. Though, therefore, there is a wide difference between us intellectually, I have always had the feeling that ours is a life of contentment, happiness and progress.

No one should conclude from this account of a sacred memory that we are an ideal couple. Nor should anyone conclude that we share exactly the same ideals. Mrs. Gandhi herself perhaps does not know whether she has any ideals independent of mine. Even today, she likely disapproves of many things I do. We never discuss them, and I see no good in doing so. Her parents did not educate her, and neither did I when I should have. But she is blessed with a great deal of one quality that most Hindu wives possess to some degree. Willingly or unwillingly, consciously or unconsciously, she has considered herself blessed to follow in my footsteps. She has never stood in the way of my efforts to lead a life of self-restraint. So, although we differ greatly in our intellectual abilities, I have always felt that our life together is one of contentment, happiness, and progress.