A Sacrifice for Vegetarianism

As the ideals of sacrifice and simplicity were becoming more and more realised, and the religious consciousness was becoming more and more quickened in my daily life, the passion for vegetarianism as a mission went on increasing. I have known only one way of carrying on missionary work, viz., by personal example and discussion with searchers for knowledge.

As I increasingly put the ideals of sacrifice and simplicity into practice, my religious awareness also grew in daily life. Along with this, my passion for promoting vegetarianism as a mission grew. I have known only one way to carry out missionary work, namely, through personal example and discussion with people seeking knowledge.

There was, in Johannesburg, a vegetarian restaurant conducted by a German who believed in Kuhne’s hydropathic treatment. I began visiting the restaurant myself, and helped it by taking English friends there. But I saw that it could not last for any length of time as it was always in financial difficulties. I assisted it as much as I thought it deserved, and spent some money on it, but it had ultimately to be closed down.

In Johannesburg, a German man ran a vegetarian restaurant. He believed in Kuhne’s hydropathic treatment. I began eating at the restaurant and supported it by bringing English friends there. But I could see that the restaurant would not last long because it was always in financial trouble. I helped as much as I thought the restaurant deserved and spent some money on it. But it eventually had to close.

Most Theosophists are vegetarians more or less, and an enterprising lady belonging to that Society now came upon the scene with a vegetarian restaurant on a grand scale. She was fond of art, was extravagant and knew little of accounts. Her circle of friends was fairly large. She had started in a small way, but later she decided to extend the venture by taking large rooms, and she asked me for help. I knew nothing of her finances when she thus approached me, but I took it that her estimate must be fairly accurate. And I was in a position to accommodate her. My clients used to keep large sums as deposits with me. Having received the consent of one of these clients, I lent about a thousand pounds from the amount to his credit. This client was most large-hearted and trusting. He had originally come to South Africa as an indentured labourer. He said: ‘Give away the money, if you like. I know nothing in these matters. I only know you.’ His name was Badri. He afterwards took a prominent part in Satyagraha, and suffered imprisonment as well. So I advanced the loan assuming that this consent was enough.

Most Theosophists are vegetarian to some degree. An enterprising woman from the Society now appeared, running a large vegetarian restaurant. She loved art, spent extravagantly, and knew little about accounting. She had a fairly large circle of friends. She had started small, but later decided to expand the business by renting large rooms. She asked me for help. I knew nothing about her finances when she approached me, but I assumed her estimate was fairly accurate. And I was in a position to help her. My clients used to keep large sums on deposit with me. With one client’s consent, I lent her about a thousand pounds from his deposit. This client was very generous and trusting. He had originally come to South Africa as an indentured laborer. He said: ‘Give away the money, if you like. I know nothing about these matters. I only know you.’ His name was Badri. He later played a prominent part in Satyagraha and was imprisoned as well. So I made the loan, assuming that his consent was enough.

In two or three months’ time I came to know that the amount would not be recovered. I could ill afford to sustain such a loss. There were many other purposes to which I could have applied this amount. The loan was never repaid. But how could trusting Badri be allowed to suffer? He had known me only. I made good the loss.

Within two or three months, I learned that the money would not be recovered. I could hardly afford such a loss. I could have used the money for many other purposes. The loan was never repaid. But how could I let trusting Badri suffer? He had known only me. I covered the loss.

A client friend to whom I had spoken about this transaction had sweetly chid me for my folly.

A client who was also a friend had gently scolded me for my foolishness when I told him about this transaction.

‘Bhai,’—I had fortunately not yet become ‘Mahatma,’ nor even ‘Bapu’ (father), friends used to call me by the loving name of ‘Bhai’ (brother),—said he, ‘this was not for you to do. We depend upon you in so many things. You are not going to get back this amount. I know you will never allow Badri to come to grief, for you will pay him out of your pocket, but if you go on helping your reform schemes by operating on your clients’ money, the poor fellows will be ruined, and you will soon become a beggar. But you are our trustee, and you must know that if you become a beggar, all our public work will come to a stop.’

‘Bhai,’ he said, ‘this was not something you should have done.’ Fortunately, I had not yet become ‘Mahatma’ or even ‘Bapu’ (father). Friends used to call me by the affectionate name ‘Bhai’ (brother). ‘We depend on you for so many things. You are not going to get this money back. I know you will never let Badri suffer, because you will pay him out of your own pocket. But if you keep using your clients’ money to support your reform projects, the poor fellows will be ruined. And you will soon become a beggar. But you are our trustee. You must know that if you become a beggar, all our public work will stop.’

The friend, I am thankful to say, is still alive. I have not yet come across, in South Africa or anywhere else, a purer man than he. I have known him to apologise to people and to cleanse himself, when having happened to suspect them, he had found his suspicion to be unfounded.

I am thankful that my friend is still alive. In South Africa or anywhere else, I have never met a purer man. I have known him to apologize to people and cleanse himself after discovering that his suspicions about them were unfounded.

And I saw that he had rightly warned me. For though I made good Badri’s loss, I should not have been able to find another thousand pounds for any similar loss and should have been driven to incur debt, a thing I have never done in my life and have always abhorred. I realised that even a man’s reforming zeal ought not to make him exceed his limits. I also saw that in thus lending trust-money I had disobeyed the cardinal teaching of the Gita, viz., the duty of a man of equipoise to act without desire for the fruit. The error became for me a beacon light of warning.

And I saw that his warning had been right. Although I made up Badri’s loss, I could not have found another thousand pounds for a similar loss. I would have been forced to go into debt, something I have never done and have always hated. I realized that even a person’s zeal for reform should not lead them beyond their limits. I also saw that by lending money held in trust, I had disobeyed a central teaching of the Gita: a person who remains balanced must act without desire for the results. The mistake became a guiding warning to me.

The sacrifice offered on the altar of vegetarianism was thus neither intentional nor expected. It was a virtue of necessity.

The sacrifice made for vegetarianism was therefore neither intentional nor expected. It was a virtue born of necessity.