Face to Face With Ahimsa

My object was to inquire into the condition of the Champaran agriculturists and understand their grievances against the indigo planters. For this purpose it was necessary that I should meet thousands of the ryots. But I deemed it essential, before starting on my inquiry, to know the planters’ side of the case and see the Commissioner of the Division. I sought and was granted appointments with both.

My aim was to investigate the conditions of the farmers in Champaran and understand their grievances against the indigo planters. To do this, I needed to meet thousands of farmers. But before beginning my inquiry, I thought it essential to hear the planters’ side and meet the Commissioner of the Division. I requested appointments with both and was granted them.

The Secretary of the Planters’ Association told me plainly that I was an outsider and that I had no business to come between the planters and their tenants, but if I had any representation to make, I might submit it in writing. I politely told him that I did not regard myself as an outsider, and that I had every right to inquire into the condition of the tenants if they desired me to do so.

The Secretary of the Planters’ Association told me plainly that I was an outsider. He said I had no business getting involved between the planters and their tenants. But if I had anything to say, I could submit it in writing. I politely told him that I did not consider myself an outsider. I also said I had every right to investigate the tenants’ conditions if they wanted me to do so.

The Commissioner, on whom I called, proceeded to bully me, and advised me forthwith to leave Tirhut.

When I visited the Commissioner, he bullied me and advised me to leave Tirhut immediately.

I acquainted my co-workers with all this, and told them that there was a likelihood of Government stopping me from proceeding further, and that I might have to go to jail earlier than I had expected, and that if I was to be arrested, it would be best that the arrest should take place in Motihari or if possible in Bettiah. It was advisable, therefore, that I should go to those places as early as possible.

I told my co-workers about all this. I said that the government might stop me from going any farther, and that I might have to go to jail sooner than I had expected. I also said that if I was arrested, it would be best to be arrested in Motihari or, if possible, in Bettiah. It was therefore advisable for me to go to those places as soon as possible.

Champaran is a district of the Tirhut division and Motihari is its headquarters. Rajkumar Shukla’s place was in the vicinity of Bettiah, and the tenants belonging to the kothis in its neighbourhood were the poorest in the district. Rajkumar Shukla wanted me to see them and I was equally anxious to do so.

Champaran is a district in the Tirhut division, and Motihari is its headquarters. Rajkumar Shukla lived near Bettiah. The tenants of the nearby kothis were the poorest in the district. Rajkumar Shukla wanted me to see them, and I was just as eager to do so.

So I started with my co-workers for Motihari the same day. Babu Gorakh Prasad harboured us in his home which became a caravanserai. It could hardly contain us all. The very same day we heard, that about five miles from Motihari a tenant had been ill-treated. It was decided, that in company with Babu Dharanidhar Prasad, I should go and see him the next morning, and we accordingly set off for the place on elephant’s back. An elephant, by the way, is about as common in Champaran as a bullock-cart in Gujarat. We had scarcely gone half way when a messenger from the Police Superintendent overtook us and said that the latter had sent his compliments. I saw what he meant. Having left Dharanidharbabu to proceed to the original destination, I got into the hired carriage which the messenger had brought. He then served on me a notice to leave Champaran, and drove me to my place. On his asking me to acknowledge the service of the notice, I wrote to the effect that I did not propose to comply with it, and leave Champaran till my inquiry was finished. Thereupon I received a summons to take my trial the next day for disobeying the order to leave Champaran.

So I set out for Motihari with my co-workers that same day. Babu Gorakh Prasad took us into his home, which became like an inn. It could hardly hold us all. That same day, we heard that a tenant had been ill-treated about five miles from Motihari. We decided that Babu Dharanidhar Prasad and I should go and see him the next morning. So we set off on an elephant. An elephant, by the way, is about as common in Champaran as a bullock-cart in Gujarat. We had hardly gone halfway when a messenger from the Police Superintendent caught up with us. He said the Superintendent had sent his compliments. I understood what he meant. I left Dharanidharbabu to continue to our original destination and got into the hired carriage the messenger had brought. He then served me with a notice to leave Champaran and drove me back to where I was staying. He asked me to acknowledge receipt of the notice. I wrote that I did not intend to obey it or leave Champaran until my inquiry was finished. I then received a summons to stand trial the next day for disobeying the order to leave Champaran.

I kept awake that whole night writing letters and giving necessary instructions to Babu Vrajakishore Prasad.

I stayed awake all night writing letters and giving Babu Vrajakishore Prasad the necessary instructions.

The news of the notice and the summons spread like wildfire, and I was told that Motihari that day witnessed unprecedented scenes. Gorakhbabu’s house and the court house overflowed with men. Fortunately I had finished all my work during the night and so was able to cope with the crowds. My companions proved the greatest help. They occupied themselves with regulating the crowds, for the latter followed me wherever I went.

News of the notice and the summons spread like wildfire. I was told that Motihari saw unprecedented scenes that day. Gorakhbabu’s house and the courthouse overflowed with men. Fortunately, I had finished all my work during the night, so I was able to deal with the crowds. My companions were a great help. They worked to manage the crowds, who followed me wherever I went.

A sort of friendliness sprang up between the officials—Collector, Magistrate, Police Superintendent—and myself. I might have legally resisted the notices served on me. Instead I accepted them all, and my conduct towards the officials was correct. They thus saw that I did not want to offend them personally, but that I wanted to offer civil resistance to their orders. In this way they were put at ease, and instead of harassing me they gladly availed themselves of my and my co-workers’ co-operation in regulating the crowds. But it was an ocular demonstration to them of the fact that their authority was shaken. The people had for the moment lost all fear of punishment, and yielded obedience to the power of love which their new friend exercised.

A kind of friendship developed between me and the officials: the Collector, the Magistrate, and the Police Superintendent. I could have legally challenged the notices served on me. Instead, I accepted them all and treated the officials properly. They saw that I did not want to offend them personally. I wanted only to offer civil resistance to their orders. This put them at ease. Instead of harassing me, they gladly accepted help from me and my co-workers in managing the crowds. But the crowds also gave the officials visible proof that their authority had been shaken. For the moment, the people had lost all fear of punishment. They obeyed the power of love that their new friend exercised.

It should be remembered that no one knew me in Champaran. The peasants were all ignorant. Champaran, being far up north of the Ganges, and right at the foot of the Himalayas in close proximity to Nepal, was cut off from the rest of India. The Congress was practically unknown in those parts. Even those who had heard the name of the Congress shrank from joining it or even mentioning it. And now the Congress and its members had entered this land, though not in the name of the Congress, yet in a far more real sense.

It should be remembered that no one in Champaran knew me. The peasants were all ignorant. Champaran was far north of the Ganges, at the foot of the Himalayas, close to Nepal. It was cut off from the rest of India. The Congress was practically unknown there. Even those who had heard its name were afraid to join it or even mention it. And now the Congress and its members had entered this land. They had not come in the name of the Congress, yet they had come in a far more real sense.

In consultation with my co-workers I had decided that nothing should be done in the name of the Congress. What we wanted was work and not name, substance and not shadow. For the name of the Congress was the bête noire of the Government and their controllers—the planters. To them the Congress was a byword for lawyers’ wrangles, evasion of law through legal loopholes, a byword for bomb and anarchical crime and for diplomacy and hypocrisy. We had to disillusion them both. Therefore we had decided not to mention the name of the Congress, and not to acquaint the peasants with the organisation called the Congress. It was enough, we had thought, if they understood and followed the spirit of the Congress, instead of its letter.

After consulting my co-workers, I decided that nothing should be done in the name of the Congress. We wanted work, not a name, substance, not a shadow. The name of the Congress was the bête noire of the Government and its controllers, the planters. To them, the Congress was a byword for lawyers’ quarrels and evasion of the law through legal loopholes. It was also a byword for bombs, anarchist crime, diplomacy, and hypocrisy. We had to change the minds of both the Government and the planters. So we decided not to mention the name of the Congress or tell the peasants about the organization called the Congress. We thought it enough if the peasants understood and followed the spirit of the Congress rather than its letter.

No emissaries had therefore been sent there, openly or secretly, on behalf of the Congress to prepare the ground for our arrival. Rajkumar Shukla was incapable of reaching the thousands of peasants. No political work had yet been done amongst them. The world outside Champaran was not known to them. And yet they received me as though we had been age-long friends. It is no exaggeration, but the literal truth, to say that in this meeting with the peasants I was face to face with God, Ahimsa and Truth.

So the Congress had sent no representatives there, openly or secretly, to prepare for our arrival. Rajkumar Shukla could not reach the thousands of peasants. No political work had yet been done among them. They knew nothing of the world outside Champaran. Yet they welcomed me as though we had been friends for ages. It is no exaggeration, but the literal truth, to say that I came face to face with God, Ahimsa and Truth in this meeting with the peasants.

When I come to examine my title to this realisation, I find nothing but my love for the people. And this in turn is nothing but an expression of my unshakeable faith in Ahimsa.

When I ask what gives me the right to this realization, I find nothing but my love for the people. And that love is simply an expression of my unshakable faith in Ahimsa.

That day in Champaran was an unforgettable event in my life, and a red-letter day for the peasants and for me.

That day in Champaran was unforgettable for me. It was a momentous day for the peasants and for me.

According to the law I was to be on my trial, but truly speaking Government was to be on its trial. The Commissioner only succeeded in trapping Government in the net which he had spread for me.

Under the law, I was to stand trial. But in truth, the Government was the one on trial. The Commissioner had set a trap for me, but he only succeeded in trapping the Government.