The Result of Self-Reflection

When, in 1893, I came in close contact with Christian friends I was a mere novice. They were trying hard to bring home to me, and make me accept, the message of Jesus, and I was a humble and respectful listener with an open mind. At that time I naturally studied Hinduism to the best of my ability and endeavoured to understand other religions.

In 1893, when I came into close contact with Christian friends, I was a complete beginner. My friends tried hard to help me understand and accept the message of Jesus. I listened humbly and respectfully, with an open mind. At the time, I naturally studied Hinduism as best I could and tried to understand other religions.

In 1903 the position was somewhat changed. Theosophist friends certainly intended to draw me into their Society, but that was with a view to getting something from me as a Hindu. Theosophical literature is replete with Hindu influence, and so these friends expected that I should be very helpful to them. I explained that my Sanskrit study was not much to speak of, that I had not read the Hindu scriptures in the original, and that even my acquaintance with them through translations was of the slightest. But being as they were believers in samskara (impressions of previous births) and punarjanma (rebirth), they assumed that I should be able to render at least some help. And so I felt like a Triton among the minnows. I started reading Swami Vivekananda’s Rajayoga with some of these friends and M. N. Dvivedi’s Rajayoga with others. I had to read Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras with one friend and the Bhagavad Gita with quite a number. We formed a sort of Seekers’ Club where we had regular readings. I already had faith in the Gita which had a fascination for me. Now I realised the necessity of diving deeper into it. I had with me one or two translations, by means of which I tried to understand the original Sanskrit and decided to get by heart one or two verses every day. For this purpose I employed the time of my morning ablutions. The operation took me thirty five minutes, fifteen minutes for the tooth brush and twenty for the bath. The first I used to do standing in the Western fashion. So on the wall opposite I stuck slips of paper on which were written the Gita verses and referred to them now and then to help my memory. This time was found sufficient for memorising the daily portion and recalling the verses already learnt. I remember having thus committed to memory thirteen chapters. But the memorising of the Gita had to give way to the increase of other work and the birth and nursing of Satyagraha which absorbed all my thinking time, as the latter may be said to be doing even now.

In 1903, things were somewhat different. My Theosophist friends certainly wanted me to join their Society, but they hoped to gain something from me as a Hindu. Theosophical literature is full of Hindu influence, so these friends expected me to be very helpful to them. I explained that my knowledge of Sanskrit was limited. I had not read the Hindu scriptures in the original, and I knew very little of them even in translation. But my friends believed in samskara (impressions from previous births) and punarjanma (rebirth). So they assumed I could be of at least some help. I felt like a Triton among minnows. I began reading Swami Vivekananda’s Rajayoga with some of these friends and M. N. Dvivedi’s Rajayoga with others. I had to read Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras with one friend and the Bhagavad Gita with quite a number of them. We formed a kind of Seekers’ Club, where we read together regularly. I already had faith in the Gita and was fascinated by it. Now I realized that I needed to study it more deeply. I had one or two translations, which I used to help me understand the original Sanskrit. I decided to memorize one or two verses every day. I used the time I spent washing in the morning for this purpose. This took me thirty-five minutes: fifteen to brush my teeth and twenty to bathe. I used to stand while brushing, as people did in the West. So I stuck slips of paper with verses from the Gita on the wall opposite me. I looked at them now and then to help me remember. This gave me enough time to memorize each day’s verses and recall those I had already learned. I remember memorizing thirteen chapters in this way. But I had to stop memorizing the Gita as my other work increased and Satyagraha was born and nurtured. Satyagraha absorbed all the time I had for thinking, as it may be said to do even now.

What effect this reading of the Gita had on the friends with whom I read it, only they can say, but for me the Gita became an infallible guide of conduct. It became my dictionary of daily reference. Just as I turned to the English dictionary for English words that I did not understand, I turned to this dictionary of conduct for a ready solution of all my troubles and trials. The words like aparigraha (non-possession) and samabhava (equability) gripped me. How to cultivate and preserve that equability was the question. What was the meaning of making no distinction between insulting, insolent, and corrupt officials, co-workers of yesterday raising meaningless opposition, and men who had always been good to one? And how was one to divest oneself of all possessions? Was not the body itself possession enough? Were not the wife and children possessions? Was I to destroy all the cupboards of books I had? Was I to burn my boats, give up all I had and follow Him? Straight came the answer: I could not follow Him unless I gave up all I had. My study of English law came to my help. Snell’s discussion of the maxims of Equity came to my memory. I understood more clearly in the light of the Gita teaching the implication of the word ‘trustee.’ My regard for jurisprudence increased, I discovered in it religion. I understood the Gita teaching of non-possession to mean that those who desired salvation should act like the trustee, who though having control over great possessions regards not an iota of it as his own. It became clear to me as daylight that non-possession and equability presupposed a change of heart, a change of attitude. I then wrote to Revashankarbhai to allow the insurance policy to lapse and get whatever could be recovered, or else to regard the premiums, already paid, as lost, for I had become convinced that God who created my wife and children as well as myself would take care of them. To my brother who had been as father to me, I wrote explaining that I had always offered him all that I had saved up to that moment, but that henceforth he should expect nothing from me, for all future savings, if any, would be utilised for the benefit of the community.

Only the friends who read the Gita with me can say what effect it had on them. But for me, the Gita became a guide to conduct that never failed. It became my dictionary for daily reference. I turned to an English dictionary for words I did not understand. In the same way, I turned to this dictionary of conduct for ready answers to all my troubles and trials. Words like aparigraha (non-possession) and samabhava (equability) gripped me. The question was how to develop and preserve that equability. What did it mean to make no distinction between insulting, insolent, and corrupt officials, former co-workers raising meaningless opposition, and people who had always been good to me? And how was I to give up all possessions? Was not the body itself possession enough? Were not my wife and children possessions? Was I to destroy all my cupboards of books? Was I to burn my boats, give up all I had, and follow him? The answer came at once: I could not follow him unless I gave up all I had. My study of English law helped me. I remembered Snell’s discussion of the maxims of Equity. In the light of the Gita’s teaching, I understood more clearly what the word ‘trustee’ meant. My respect for jurisprudence grew, and I discovered religion in it. I understood the Gita’s teaching of non-possession to mean that those who sought salvation should act like a trustee. A trustee may control great possessions, yet regards not the smallest part of them as his own. It became as clear as daylight to me that non-possession and equability required a change of heart and attitude. I then wrote to Revashankarbhai, asking him to let the insurance policy lapse and recover whatever he could. If nothing could be recovered, he should regard the premiums already paid as lost. I had become convinced that God, who created my wife and children as well as me, would take care of them. I also wrote to my brother, who had been like a father to me. I explained that I had always offered him all I had saved up to that moment. But from then on, he should expect nothing from me. Any future savings would be used for the benefit of the community.

I could not easily make my brother understand this. In stern language he explained to me my duty towards him. I should not, he said, aspire to be wiser than our father. I must support the family as he did. I pointed out to him that I was doing exactly what our father had done. It only needed that the meaning of ‘family’ should be slightly widened and the wisdom of my step would become clear.

I found it hard to make my brother understand this. He spoke sternly about my duty to him. He said I should not try to be wiser than our father. I had to support the family as he did. I pointed out that I was doing exactly what our father had done. I said that if he widened the meaning of ‘family’ a little, he would see the wisdom of what I was doing.

My brother gave me up, and practically stopped all communication with me. I was deeply distressed, but it would have been a greater distress to give up what I considered to be my duty, and I preferred the lesser. But that did not affect my devotion to my brother which remained as pure and great as ever. His excessive love for me was at the root of his misery. He did not so much want my money as that I should be well-behaved towards the family. Near the end of his life, however, he appreciated my view-point. When almost on his death-bed he realised that my step had been right and he wrote me a most pathetic letter. He apologised to me, if indeed a father may apologise to his son. He commended his sons to my care, to be brought up as I thought fit, and expressed his impatience to meet me. He cabled to me that he would like to come to South Africa and I cabled in reply that he could. But that was not to be. His desire as regards his sons also could not be fulfilled. He died before he could start for South Africa. His sons had been brought up in the old atmosphere and they could not change their course of life. I could not draw them to me. It was not their fault. ‘Who can say thus far, no further, to the tide of his own nature?’ Who can erase the indelible impressions with which he is born? It is idle to expect one’s children and wards necessarily to follow the same course of evolution as oneself.

My brother gave up on me and practically stopped communicating with me. I was deeply distressed. But giving up what I considered my duty would have distressed me even more, so I chose the lesser distress. Still, my devotion to my brother remained as pure and great as ever. His excessive love for me was the cause of his misery. He wanted my money less than he wanted me to behave well toward the family. Near the end of his life, however, he came to understand my point of view. When he was almost on his deathbed, he realized that my decision had been right. He wrote me a deeply moving letter. He apologized to me, if a father can indeed apologize to his son. He entrusted his sons to my care, to be raised as I thought best, and expressed his eagerness to see me. He sent me a telegram saying he would like to come to South Africa. I replied by telegram that he could. But it was not to be. His wish for his sons could not be fulfilled either. He died before he could leave for South Africa. His sons had been raised in the old atmosphere and could not change their way of life. I could not bring them close to me. It was not their fault. ‘Who can say to the tide of his own nature, thus far and no further?’ Who can erase the lasting impressions they are born with? It is pointless to expect one’s children and those in one’s care to necessarily develop in the same way as oneself.

This instance to some extent serves to show what a terrible responsibility it is to be a parent.

This example shows, to some extent, what a terrible responsibility it is to be a parent.