Satyagraha at Home

My first experience of jail life was in 1908. I saw that some of the regulations that the prisoners had to observe were such as should be voluntarily observed by a brahmachari, that is, one desiring to practise self-restraint. Such, for instance, was the regulation requiring the last meal to be finished before sunset. Neither the Indian nor the African prisoners were allowed tea or coffee. They could add salt to the cooked food if they wished, but they might not have anything for the mere satisfaction of the palate. When I asked the jail medical officer to give us curry powder, and to let us add salt to the food whilst it was cooking, he said: ‘You are not here for satisfying your palate. From the point of view of health, curry powder is not necessary, and it makes no difference whether you add salt during or after cooking.’

My first experience of jail life was in 1908. I saw that some prison rules were ones a brahmachari, or someone seeking to practise self-restraint, should follow voluntarily. For example, prisoners had to finish their last meal before sunset. Neither Indian nor African prisoners were allowed tea or coffee. They could add salt to cooked food if they wished, but they could have nothing merely to satisfy their taste. I asked the prison medical officer to give us curry powder and let us add salt while the food was cooking. He said: ‘You are not here to satisfy your taste. Curry powder is not necessary for health. It makes no difference whether you add salt during or after cooking.’

Ultimately these restrictions were modified, though not without much difficulty, but both were wholesome rules of self-restraint. Inhibitions imposed from without rarely succeed, but when they are self-imposed they have a decidedly salutary effect. So, immediately after release from jail, I imposed on myself the two rules. As far as was then possible I stopped taking tea, and finished my last meal before sunset. Both these now require no effort in the observance.

Eventually, these restrictions were changed, though only with great difficulty. But both were healthy rules of self-restraint. Restrictions imposed by others rarely work, but those we impose on ourselves have a clearly beneficial effect. So, immediately after my release from jail, I imposed both rules on myself. As far as possible at the time, I stopped drinking tea and finished my last meal before sunset. Now, following both rules requires no effort.

There came, however, an occasion which compelled me to give up salt altogether, and this restriction I continued for an unbroken period of ten years. I had read in some books on vegetarianism that salt was not a necessary article of diet for man, that on the contrary saltless diet was better for the health. I had deduced that a brahmachari benefited by a saltless diet. I had read and realised that the weak-bodied should avoid pulses. I was very fond of them.

However, an occasion arose that compelled me to give up salt altogether. I went without salt for ten years without a break. I had read in some books on vegetarianism that people do not need salt in their diet. In fact, the books said that a diet without salt was healthier. I had concluded that a brahmachari benefited from a diet without salt. I had read and come to realize that people with weak bodies should avoid pulses. I was very fond of them.

Now it happened that Kasturbai, who had a brief respite after her operation, had again begun getting haemorrhage and the malady seemed to be obstinate. Hydropathic treatment by itself did not answer. She had not much faith in my remedies though she did not resist them. She certainly did not ask for outside help. So when all my remedies had failed, I entreated her to give up salt and pulses. She would not agree, however much I pleaded with her, supporting myself with authorities. At last she challenged me, saying that even I could not give up these articles if I was advised to do so. I was pained and equally delighted,—delighted in that I got an opportunity to shower my love on her. I said to her: ‘You are mistaken. If I was ailing and the doctor advised me to give up these or any other articles, I should unhesitatingly do so. But there! Without any medical advice, I give up salt and pulses for one year, whether you do so or not.’

Kasturbai had a short period of relief after her operation, but she had begun bleeding again. The illness seemed stubborn. Water treatment alone did not work. She did not have much faith in my remedies, though she did not resist them. She certainly did not ask for outside help. So, when all my remedies had failed, I begged her to give up salt and pulses. However much I pleaded with her and cited authorities in support, she would not agree. At last, she challenged me. She said that even I could not give up salt and pulses if I were advised to do so. I was both hurt and delighted. I was delighted because I had an opportunity to shower her with love. I said to her: ‘You are mistaken. If I were ill and a doctor advised me to give up these or any other foods, I would do so without hesitation. But there! Without any medical advice, I am giving up salt and pulses for one year, whether you do so or not.’

She was rudely shocked and exclaimed in deep sorrow: ‘Pray forgive me. Knowing you, I should not have provoked you. I promise to abstain from these things, but for heaven’s sake take back your vow. This is too hard on me.’

She was deeply shocked and cried out in sorrow: ‘Please forgive me. Knowing you, I should not have provoked you. I promise to give up these things, but for heaven’s sake, take back your vow. This is too hard on me.’

‘It is very good for you to forego these articles. I have not the slightest doubt that you will be all the better without them. As for me, I cannot retract a vow seriously taken. And it is sure to benefit me, for all restraint, whatever prompts it, is wholesome for man. You will therefore leave me alone. It will be a test for me, and a moral support to you in carrying out your resolve.’

‘It is very good for you to give up these things. I have no doubt that you will be better off without them. As for me, I cannot take back a vow I made in earnest. And keeping the vow is sure to benefit me. All self-restraint is good for people, whatever the reason for it. So please do not try to change my mind. Keeping the vow will be a test for me. It will also give you moral support as you carry out your decision.’

So she gave me up. ‘You are too obstinate. You will listen to none,’ she said, and sought relief in tears.

So she gave up on me. ‘You are too stubborn. You won’t listen to anyone,’ she said, and found relief in tears.

I would like to count this incident as an instance of Satyagraha, and as one of the sweetest recollections of my life.

I would like to count this incident as an example of Satyagraha. It is also one of my sweetest memories.

After this Kasturbai began to pick up quickly—whether as a result of the saltless and pulseless diet or of the other consequent changes in her food, whether as a result of my strict vigilance in exacting observance of the other rules of life, or as an effect of the mental exhilaration produced by the incident, and if so to what extent, I cannot say. But she rallied quickly, haemorrhage completely stopped, and I added somewhat to my reputation as a quack.

After this, Kasturbai began to recover quickly. I cannot say why she improved, or how much each possible cause contributed. It may have been the diet without salt or pulses, or the other changes to her food that followed. It may have been because I was vigilant in making sure she followed the other rules of living. Or it may have been the excitement the incident gave her. But she recovered quickly, the bleeding stopped completely, and my reputation as a quack grew somewhat.

As for me, I was all the better for the new denials. I never craved for the things I had left, the year sped away, and I found the senses to be more subdued than ever. The experiment stimulated the inclination for self-restraint, and I continued the abstention from the articles until long after I returned to India. Only once I happened to take both the articles whilst I was in London in 1914. But of that occasion, and as to how I resumed both, I shall speak in a later chapter.

As for me, I was better off for giving up these things. I never craved them. The year flew by, and I found my senses more subdued than ever. The experiment encouraged my desire for self-restraint, and I continued to avoid both items long after I returned to India. I took both items only once while I was in London in 1914. But I will speak in a later chapter about that occasion and how I came to take both again.

I have tried the experiment of a saltless and pulseless diet on many of my co-workers, and with good results in South Africa. Medically there may be two opinions as to the value of this diet, but morally I have no doubt that all self-denial is good for the soul. The diet of a man of self-restraint must be different from that of a man of pleasure, just as their ways of life must be different. Aspirants after brahmachraya often defeat their own end by adopting courses suited to a life of pleasure.

I have tried a diet without salt or pulses with many of my co-workers in South Africa, with good results. Doctors may disagree about the value of this diet, but morally I have no doubt that all self-denial is good for the soul. A person who practices self-restraint must eat differently from someone who lives for pleasure, just as their ways of life must differ. People who seek brahmachraya often undermine their own goal by following practices suited to a life of pleasure.