The Gentle Bihari

I knew Maulana Mazharul Haq in London when he was studying for the bar, and when I met him at the Bombay Congress in 1915,—the year in which he was President of the Muslim League,—he had renewed the acquaintance, and extended me an invitation to stay with him whenever I happened to go to Patna. I bethought myself of this invitation and sent him a note indicating the purpose of my visit. He immediately came in his car, and pressed me to accept his hospitality. I thanked him, and requested him to guide me to my destination by the first available train, the railway guide being useless for an utter stranger like me. He had a talk with Rajkumar Shukla and suggested that I should first go to Muzaffarpur. There was a train for that place the same evening, and he sent me off by it.

I knew Maulana Mazharul Haq in London when he was studying to become a barrister. I met him again at the Bombay Congress in 1915, when he was President of the Muslim League. He renewed our acquaintance and invited me to stay with him whenever I went to Patna. I remembered his invitation and sent him a note explaining the purpose of my visit. He immediately came in his car and urged me to stay with him. I thanked him and asked him to help me reach my destination on the first available train. As a complete stranger, I found the railway guide useless. He spoke with Rajkumar Shukla and suggested that I should first go to Muzaffarpur. There was a train to Muzaffarpur that evening, and he saw me off on it.

Principal Kripalani was then in Muzaffarpur. I had known of him ever since my visit to Hyderabad. Dr. Choithram had told me of his great sacrifice, of his simple life, and of the Ashram that Dr. Choithram was running out of funds provided by Prof. Kripalani. He used to be a professor in the Government College, Muzaffarpur, and had just resigned the post when I went there. I had sent a telegram informing him of my arrival, and he met me at the station with a crowd of students, though, the train reached there at midnight. He had no rooms of his own, and was staying with Professor Malkani who therefore virtually became my host. It was an extraordinary thing in those days for a Government professor to harbour a man like me.

Principal Kripalani was in Muzaffarpur at the time. I had known of him since my visit to Hyderabad. Dr. Choithram had told me about his great sacrifice and simple life. He had also told me about the Ashram he ran with funds provided by Prof. Kripalani. Kripalani had been a professor at the Government College, Muzaffarpur, but had just resigned when I went there. I had sent him a telegram to let him know I was coming. Although my train arrived at midnight, he met me at the station with a crowd of students. He had no rooms of his own and was staying with Professor Malkani. So Professor Malkani was, in effect, my host. In those days, it was extraordinary for a government professor to give shelter to a man like me.

Professor Kripalani spoke to me about the desperate condition of Bihar, particularly of the Tirhut division, and gave me an idea of the difficulty of my task. He had established very close contact with the Biharis, and had already spoken to them about the mission that took me to Bihar.

Professor Kripalani told me about the desperate conditions in Bihar, especially in the Tirhut division. He gave me an idea of how difficult my task would be. He had formed close ties with the people of Bihar and had already told them about the mission that brought me there.

In the morning a small group of vakils called on me. I still remember Ramnavmiprasad among them, as his earnestness specially appealed to me.

In the morning, a small group of lawyers visited me. I still remember Ramnavmiprasad among them because his earnestness especially appealed to me.

‘It is not possible,’ he said, ‘for you to do the kind of work you have come for, if you stay here (meaning Prof. Malkani’s quarters). You must come and stay with one of us. Gaya Babu is a well-known vakil here. I have come on his behalf to invite you to stay with him. I confess we are all afraid of Government, but we shall render what help we can. Most of the things Rajkumar Shukla has told you are true. It is a pity our leaders are not here today. I have however, wired to them both, Babu Vrajakishore Prasad and Babu Rajendra Prasad. I expect them to arrive shortly, and they are sure to be able to give you all the information you want, and to help you considerably. Pray come over to Gaya Babu’s place.’

‘You cannot do the work you came here to do if you stay here,’ he said (meaning Prof. Malkani’s quarters). ‘You must come and stay with one of us. Gaya Babu is a well-known lawyer here. I have come on his behalf to invite you to stay with him. I admit that we are all afraid of the government, but we will give you what help we can. Most of what Rajkumar Shukla has told you is true. It is a pity our leaders are not here today. However, I have sent telegrams to both of them, Babu Vrajakishore Prasad and Babu Rajendra Prasad. I expect them to arrive soon. They are sure to be able to give you all the information you want and help you a great deal. Please come and stay at Gaya Babu’s place.’

This was a request that I could not resist, though I hesitated for fear of embarrassing Gaya Babu. But he put me at ease, and so I went over to stay with him. He and his people showered all their affection on me.

I could not resist the request, although I hesitated because I feared embarrassing Gaya Babu. But he put me at ease, so I went to stay with him. He and his people showered me with all their affection.

Vrajakishore Babu now arrived from Darbhanga and Rajendra Babu from Puri. Vrajakishore Babu was not the Babu Vrajakishore Prasad I had met in Lucknow. He impressed me this time with his humility, simplicity, goodness and extraordinary faith, so characteristic of the Biharis, and my heart was joyous over it. The Bihar vakils’ regard for him was an agreeable surprise to me.

Vrajakishore Babu now arrived from Darbhanga, and Rajendra Babu arrived from Puri. Vrajakishore Babu was not the Babu Vrajakishore Prasad I had met in Lucknow. This time, his humility, simplicity, goodness, and extraordinary faith impressed me. These qualities were so characteristic of the Biharis, and they filled my heart with joy. I was pleasantly surprised by the respect the Bihar lawyers had for him.

Soon I felt myself becoming bound to this circle of friends in life-long friendship. Vrajakishore Babu acquainted me with the facts of the case. He used to be in the habit of taking up the cases of the poor tenants. There were two such cases pending when I went there. When he won any such case, he consoled himself that he was doing something for these poor people. Not that he did not charge fees from these simple peasants. Lawyers labour under the belief that if they do not charge fees, they will have no wherewithal to run their households, and will not be able to render effective help to the poor people. The figures of the fees they charged and the standard of a barrister’s fees in Bengal and Bihar staggered me.

Soon I felt that I was forming lifelong friendships with this circle of friends. Vrajakishore Babu told me the facts of the case. He often took on cases for poor tenants. Two such cases were pending when I went there. Whenever he won a case like that, he took comfort in having done something for these poor people. This does not mean he charged these simple peasants no fees. Lawyers believe that without fees, they would have no way to support their households. They also believe they would not be able to help poor people effectively. I was staggered by the fees they charged and by the usual fees of barristers in Bengal and Bihar.

‘We gave Rs. 10,000 to so and so for his opinion,’ I was told. Nothing less than four figures in any case.

‘We paid so and so Rs. 10,000 for his opinion,’ I was told. In every case, the amount was at least four figures.

The friends listened to my kindly reproach and did not misunderstand me.

My friends listened to my gentle criticism and did not misunderstand me.

‘Having studied these cases,’ said I, ‘I have come to the conclusion that we should stop going to law courts. Taking such cases to the courts does little good. Where the ryots are so crushed and fearstricken, law courts are useless. The real relief for them is to be free from fear. We cannot sit still until we have driven tinkathia out of Bihar. I had thought that I should be able to leave here in two days, but I now realise that the work might take even two years. I am prepared to give that time, if necessary. I am now feeling my ground, but I want your help.’

‘After studying these cases,’ I said, ‘I have concluded that we should stop going to court. Taking such cases to court does little good. When the tenant farmers are so oppressed and afraid, the courts are useless. What they really need is freedom from fear. We cannot rest until we have driven tinkathia out of Bihar. I thought I could leave here in two days, but I now realize the work might take two years. I am prepared to give that time, if necessary. I am still finding my footing, but I want your help.’

I found Vrajakishore Babu exceptionally cool-headed. ‘We shall all render the help we can,’ he said quietly, ‘but pray tell us what kind of help you will need.’

I found Vrajakishore Babu exceptionally calm. ‘We will all help as much as we can,’ he said quietly. ‘But please tell us what kind of help you will need.’

And thus we sat talking until midnight.

And so we sat talking until midnight.

‘I shall have little use for your legal knowledge,’ I said to them. ‘I want clerical assistance and help in interpretation. It may be necessary to face imprisonment, but, much as I would love you to run that risk, you would go only so far as you feel yourselves capable of going. Even turning yourselves into clerks and giving up your profession for an indefinite period is no small thing. I find it difficult to understand the local dialect of Hindi, and I shall not be able to read papers written in Kaithi or Urdu. I shall want you to translate them for me. We cannot afford to pay for this work. It should all be done for love and out of a spirit of service.’

‘I will have little use for your legal knowledge,’ I told them. ‘I need help with clerical work and interpretation. You may have to face imprisonment. Though I would love for you to take that risk, you should go only as far as you feel capable. Even working as clerks and giving up your profession for an indefinite period is no small thing. I find the local dialect of Hindi difficult to understand. I will not be able to read papers written in Kaithi or Urdu. I will need you to translate them for me. We cannot afford to pay for this work. It should all be done for love and in a spirit of service.’

Vrajakishore Babu understood this immediately, and he now cross-examined me and his companions by turns. He tried to ascertain the implications of all that I had said,—how long their service would be required, how many of them would be needed, whether they might serve by turns and so on. Then he asked the vakils the capacity of their sacrifice.

Vrajakishore Babu understood this immediately. He then questioned me and his companions in turn. He tried to understand the implications of everything I had said. He asked how long their service would be needed, how many of them would be needed, and whether they could serve in turns. Then he asked the vakils, or lawyers, how much they were willing to sacrifice.

Ultimately they gave me this assurance. ‘Such and such a number of us will do whatever you may ask. Some of us will be with you for so much time as you may require. The idea of accommodating oneself to imprisonment is a novel thing for us. We will try to assimilate it.’

In the end, they assured me: ‘A certain number of us will do whatever you ask. Some of us will stay with you for as long as you need us. The idea of preparing ourselves for imprisonment is new to us. We will try to get used to it.’