Companions

Vrajakishorebabu and Rajendrababu were a matchless pair. Their devotion made it impossible for me to take a single step without their help. Their disciples, or their companions—Shambhubabu, Anugrahababu, Dharanibabu, Ramnavmibabu and other vakils—were always with us. Vindhyababu and Janakdharibabu also came and helped us now and then. All these were Biharis. Their principal work was to take down the ryots’ statements.

Vrajakishorebabu and Rajendrababu were an unmatched pair. Their devotion made it impossible for me to take a single step without their help. Their followers, or companions, were always with us. They included Shambhubabu, Anugrahababu, Dharanibabu, Ramnavmibabu, and other lawyers. Vindhyababu and Janakdharibabu also came and helped us from time to time. All of them were Biharis. Their main work was to write down the tenant farmers’ statements.

Professor Kripalani could not but cast in his lot with us. Though a Sindhi he was more Bihari than a born Bihari. I have seen a few workers capable of merging themselves in the province of their adoption. Kripalani is one of those few. He made it impossible for any one to feel that he belonged to a different province. He was my gatekeeper in chief. For the time being he made it the end and aim of his life to save me from darshan-seekers. He warded off people, calling to his aid now his unfailing humour, now his non-violent threats. At nightfall he would take up his occupation of a teacher, and regale his companions with his historical studies and observations, and quicken any timid visitor into bravery.

Professor Kripalani could not help joining us. Though he was a Sindhi, he was more Bihari than someone born in Bihar. I have seen a few workers who could fully become part of their adopted province. Kripalani was one of those few. He made it impossible for anyone to feel that he came from a different province. He was my chief gatekeeper. For the time being, he made it his life’s purpose to protect me from people seeking darshan. He turned people away, sometimes using his unfailing humor and sometimes his nonviolent threats. At nightfall, he would return to his role as a teacher. He entertained his companions with his studies and observations on history, and encouraged timid visitors to be brave.

Maulana Mazharul Haq had registered his name on the standing list of helpers whom I might count upon whenever necessary, and he made a point of looking in once or twice a month. The pomp and splendour in which he then lived was a sharp contrast to his simple life of today. The way in which he associated with us made us feel that he was one of us, though his fashionable habit gave a stranger a different impression.

Maulana Mazharul Haq had put his name on my list of helpers I could count on whenever needed. He made a point of visiting once or twice a month. The grandeur in which he lived then was a sharp contrast to his simple life today. The way he spent time with us made us feel he was one of us. Yet his fashionable dress gave strangers a different impression.

As I gained more experience of Bihar, I became convinced that work of a permanent nature was impossible without proper village education. The ryots’ ignorance was pathetic. They either allowed their children to roam about, or made them toil on indigo plantations from morning to night for a couple of coppers a day. In those days a male labourer’s wage did not exceed ten pice, a female’s did not exceed six and a child’s three. He who succeeded in earning four annas a day was considered most fortunate.

As I learned more about Bihar, I became convinced that lasting work was impossible without proper village education. The tenant farmers’ lack of education was heartbreaking. They either let their children roam around or made them work on indigo plantations from morning to night. The children earned only a couple of coppers a day. In those days, a male laborer earned no more than ten pice a day, a woman no more than six, and a child no more than three. Anyone who managed to earn four annas a day was considered very fortunate.

In consultation with my companions I decided to open primary schools in six villages. One of our conditions with the villagers was that they should provide the teachers with board and lodging while we would see to the other expenses. The village folk had hardly any cash in their hands, but they could well afford to provide foodstuffs. Indeed they had already expressed their readiness to contribute grain and other raw materials.

After consulting my companions, I decided to open primary schools in six villages. We asked the villagers to provide food and lodging for the teachers, while we covered the other expenses. The villagers had hardly any cash, but they could easily provide food. They had already offered to contribute grain and other raw materials.

From where to get the teachers was a great problem. It was difficult to find local teachers who would work for a bare allowance or without remuneration. My idea was never to entrust children to commonplace teachers. Their literary qualification was not so essential as their moral fibre.

Finding teachers was a major problem. It was difficult to find local teachers who would work for a bare allowance or no pay. I never wanted to put children in the care of mediocre teachers. Their academic qualifications mattered less than their moral character.

So I issued a public appeal for voluntary teachers. It received a ready response. Sjt. Gangadharrao Deshpande sent Babasaheb Soman and Pundarik. Mrs. Avantikabai Gokhale came from Bombay and Mrs. Anandibai Vaishampayan from Poona. I sent to the Ashram for Chhotalal, Surendranath and my son Devdas. About this time Mahadev Desai and Narahari Parikh with their wives cast in their lot with me. Kasturbai was also summoned for the work. This was a fairly strong contingent. Shrimati Avantikabai and Shrimati Anandibai were educated enough, but Mrs. Durga Desai and Mrs. Manibehn Parikh had nothing more than a bare knowledge of Gujarati, and Kasturbai not even that. How were these ladies to instruct the children in Hindi?

So I publicly appealed for volunteer teachers. People responded readily. Sjt. Gangadharrao Deshpande sent Babasaheb Soman and Pundarik. Mrs. Avantikabai Gokhale came from Bombay and Mrs. Anandibai Vaishampayan from Poona. I sent for Chhotalal, Surendranath, and my son Devdas from the Ashram. Around this time, Mahadev Desai and Narahari Parikh joined me, along with their wives. Kasturbai was also called in to help. We now had a fairly strong group. Shrimati Avantikabai and Shrimati Anandibai were sufficiently educated. But Mrs. Durga Desai and Mrs. Manibehn Parikh knew only a little Gujarati, and Kasturbai did not even know that. How were these women to teach the children in Hindi?

I explained to them, that they were expected to teach the children not grammar and the three R’s so much as cleanliness and good manners. I further explained, that even as regards letters there was not so great a difference between Gujarati, Hindi and Marathi as they imagined, and in the primary classes, at any rate, the teaching of the rudiments of the alphabet and numerals was not a difficult matter. The result was that the classes taken by these ladies were found to be most successful. The experience inspired them with confidence and interest in their work. Avantikabai’s became a model school. She threw herself heart and soul into her work. She brought her exceptional gifts to bear on it. Through these ladies we could, to some extent, reach the village women.

I explained to them that they were expected to teach the children cleanliness and good manners rather than grammar, reading, writing, and arithmetic. I also explained that Gujarati, Hindi, and Marathi were not as different in their writing as they imagined. At least in the primary classes, teaching the basics of the alphabet and numbers was not difficult. As a result, the classes these women taught proved very successful. The experience gave them confidence and interest in their work. Avantikabai’s school became a model. She put her heart and soul into her work and used her exceptional gifts to teach. Through these women, we were able to reach the village women to some extent.

But I did not want to stop at providing for primary education. The villages were insanitary, the lanes full of filth, the wells surrounded by mud and stink and the courtyards unbearably untidy. The elder people badly needed education in cleanliness. They were all suffering from various skin diseases. So it was decided to do as much sanitary work as possible and to penetrate every department of their lives.

But I did not want to stop at providing primary education. The villages were dirty and unhealthy. The lanes were full of filth, the wells were surrounded by mud and a foul smell, and the courtyards were unbearably messy. The older people badly needed to learn about cleanliness. They all suffered from various skin diseases. So we decided to do as much sanitation work as possible and reach into every part of their lives.

Doctors were needed for this work. I requested the Servants of India Society to lend us the services of the late Dr. Dev. We had been great friends and he readily offered his services for six months. The teachers—men and women—had all to work under him.

Doctors were needed for this work. I asked the Servants of India Society to make the late Dr. Dev available to us. We had been great friends, and he readily offered to help for six months. All the teachers, both men and women, had to work under him.

All of them had express instructions not to concern themselves with grievances against planters or with politics. People who had any complaints to make were to be referred to me. No one was to venture out of his beat. The friends carried out these instructions with wonderful fidelity. I do not remember a single occasion of indiscipline.

All of them had clear instructions not to get involved in complaints against planters or in politics. Anyone with a complaint was to be referred to me. No one was to leave their assigned area. My friends followed these instructions with remarkable faithfulness. I do not remember a single instance of disobedience.