Part 5, Chapter 27
Recruitment Campaign
So I attended the Conference. The Viceroy was very keen on my supporting the resolution about recruiting. I asked for permission to speak in Hindi-Hindustani. The Viceroy acceded to my request, but suggested that I should speak also in English. I had no speech to make. I spoke but one sentence to this effect: ‘With a full sense of my responsibility I beg to support the resolution.’
So I attended the Conference. The Viceroy was very eager for me to support the resolution on recruiting. I asked for permission to speak in Hindi-Hindustani. The Viceroy agreed, but suggested that I speak in English too. I had no speech prepared. I said just one sentence, to this effect: ‘With a full sense of my responsibility, I support the resolution.’
Many congratulated me on my having spoken in Hindustani. That was, they said, the first instance within living memory of any one having spoken in Hindustani at such a meeting. The congratulations and the discovery that I was the first to speak in Hindustani at a Viceregal meeting hurt my national pride. I felt like shrinking into myself. What a tragedy that the language of the country should be tabooed in meetings held in the country, for work relating to the country, and that a speech there in Hindustani by a stray individual like myself should be a matter for congratulation! Incidents like these are reminders of the low state to which we have been reduced.
Many people congratulated me for speaking in Hindustani. They said no one in living memory had spoken Hindustani at such a meeting. Their congratulations hurt my national pride, as did the discovery that I was the first to speak Hindustani at a Viceregal meeting. I felt like shrinking into myself. What a tragedy that our country’s language should be forbidden at meetings held here to deal with our own affairs! And what a tragedy that an isolated person like me should be congratulated for speaking Hindustani at such a meeting! Incidents like these remind us how low we have been brought.
The one sentence that I uttered at the Conference had for me considerable significance. It was impossible for me to forget either the Conference or the resolution I supported. There was one undertaking that I had to fulfil while yet in Delhi. I had to write a letter to the Viceroy. This was no easy thing for me. I felt it my duty both in the interests of the Government and of the people to explain therein how and why I attended the Conference, and to state clearly what the people expected from Government.
The one sentence I spoke at the Conference meant a great deal to me. I could not forget the Conference or the resolution I supported. While still in Delhi, I had one commitment to fulfill. I had to write a letter to the Viceroy. Writing it was not easy for me. I felt it was my duty to explain how and why I had attended the Conference. I also had to state clearly what the people expected from the Government. I felt I owed this to both the Government and the people.
In the letter I expressed my regret for the exclusion from the Conference of leaders like Lokamanya Tilak and the Ali Brothers, and stated the people’s minimum political demand as also the demands of the Muslims on account of the situation created by the War. I asked for permission to publish the letter and the Viceroy gladly gave it.
In the letter, I expressed regret that leaders like Lokamanya Tilak and the Ali Brothers had been excluded from the Conference. I stated the people’s minimum political demand. I also stated the demands of the Muslims arising from the situation created by the War. I asked for permission to publish the letter, and the Viceroy gladly gave it.
The letter had to be sent to Simla where the Viceroy had gone immediately after the Conference. The letter had for me considerable importance, and sending it by post would have meant delay. I wanted to save time, and yet I was not inclined to send it by any messenger I came across. I wanted some pure man to carry it and hand it personally at the Viceregal Lodge. Dinabandhu Andrews and Principal Rudra suggested the name of the good Rev. Ireland of the Cambridge Mission. He agreed to carry the letter if he might read it and if it appealed to him as good. I had no objection as the letter was by no means private. He read it, liked it and expressed his willingness to carry out the mission. I offered him the second class fare, but he declined it saying he was accustomed to travelling intermediate. This he did though it was a night journey. His simplicity, and his straight and plainspoken manner captivated me. The letter thus delivered at the hands of a pure-minded man had, as I thought, the desired result. It eased my mind and cleared my way.
The letter had to be sent to Simla, where the Viceroy had gone immediately after the Conference. The letter was very important to me, and sending it by post would have caused a delay. I wanted to save time, but I did not want to send it with just any messenger. I wanted a pure man to carry it and deliver it personally at the Viceregal Lodge. Dinabandhu Andrews and Principal Rudra suggested the good Rev. Ireland of the Cambridge Mission. He agreed to carry the letter if he could read it and thought it was good. I had no objection, since the letter was not private at all. He read it, liked it, and said he was willing to take it. I offered him the second-class fare, but he declined, saying he was used to traveling intermediate class. He traveled that way even though the journey was overnight. His simplicity and his direct, plainspoken manner captivated me. I thought the letter, delivered by a pure-minded man, had the desired result. It put my mind at ease and cleared my way.
The other part of my obligation consisted in raising recruits. Where could I make a beginning except in Kheda? And whom could I invite to be the first recruits except my own co-workers? So as soon as I reached Nadiad I had a conference with Vallabhbhai and other friends. Some of them could not easily take to the proposal. Those who liked the proposal had misgivings about its success. There was no love lost between the Government and the classes to which I wanted to make my appeal. The bitter experience they had had of the Government officials was still fresh in their memory.
The other part of my obligation was to raise recruits. Where could I begin except in Kheda? And whom could I ask to be the first recruits except my own co-workers? So as soon as I reached Nadiad, I met with Vallabhbhai and other friends. Some of them found the proposal hard to accept. Those who liked it doubted that it would succeed. The Government and the groups I wanted to appeal to disliked each other. Their bitter experiences with Government officials were still fresh in their memories.
And yet they were in favour of starting work. As soon as I set about my task my eyes were opened. My optimism received a rude shock. Whereas during the revenue campaign the people readily offered their carts free of charge, and two volunteers came forth when one was needed, it was difficult now to get a cart even on hire, to say nothing of volunteers. But we would not be dismayed. We decided to dispense with the use of carts and to do our journeys on foot. At this rate we had to trudge about 20 miles a day. If carts were not forthcoming, it was idle to expect people to feed us. It was hardly proper to ask for food. So it was decided that every volunteer must carry his food in his satchel. No bedding or sheet was necessary as it was summer.
And yet they were in favor of starting work. As soon as I began my task, my eyes were opened. My optimism received a rude shock. During the revenue campaign, people had readily offered their carts for free. When one volunteer was needed, two came forward. Now it was difficult to get a cart even for hire, let alone find volunteers. But we would not be discouraged. We decided to do without carts and travel on foot. This meant walking about 20 miles a day. If people would not provide carts, it was pointless to expect them to feed us. It was hardly proper to ask for food. So we decided that every volunteer must carry food in a bag. Since it was summer, no bedding or sheet was needed.
We had meetings wherever we went. People did attend, but hardly one or two would offer themselves as recruits. ‘You are a votary of Ahimsa, how can you ask us to take up arms?’ ‘What good has Government done for India to deserve our co-operation?’ These and similar questions used to be put to us.
We held meetings wherever we went. People attended, but hardly more than one or two offered to enlist. ‘You believe in Ahimsa. How can you ask us to take up arms?’ ‘What good has the Government done for India to deserve our cooperation?’ People used to ask us these and similar questions.
However our steady work began to tell. Quite a number of names were registered, and we hoped that we should be able to have a regular supply as soon as the first batch was sent. I had already begun to confer with the Commissioner as to where the recruits were to be accommodated.
However, our steady work began to pay off. Quite a few names were registered. We hoped that once the first batch was sent, we would have a steady supply of recruits. I had already begun discussing with the Commissioner where the recruits would stay.
The Commissioners in every division were holding conferences on the Delhi model. One such was held in Gujarat. My co-workers and I were invited to it. We attended, but I felt there was even less place for me here than at Delhi. In this atmosphere of servile submission I felt ill at ease. I spoke somewhat at length. I could say nothing to please the officials, and had certainly one or two hard things to say.
The Commissioners in every division were holding conferences like the one in Delhi. One such conference was held in Gujarat. My co-workers and I were invited, and we attended. But I felt even more out of place there than I had in Delhi. The atmosphere of slavish submission made me uncomfortable. I spoke at some length. I could say nothing to please the officials, and I certainly had one or two harsh things to say.
I used to issue leaflets asking people to enlist as recruits. One of the arguments I had used was distasteful to the Commissioner: ‘Among the many misdeeds of the British rule in India, history will look upon the Act depriving a whole nation of arms as the blackest. If we want the Arms Act to be repealed, if we want to learn the use of arms, here is a golden opportunity. If the middle classes render voluntary help to Government in the hour of its trial, distrust will disappear, and the ban on possessing arms will be withdrawn.’ The Commissioner referred to this, and said that he appreciated my presence in the Conference in spite of the differences between us. And I had to justify my standpoint as courteously as I could.
I used to distribute leaflets asking people to enlist. One argument I used displeased the Commissioner: ‘Among the many misdeeds of British rule in India, history will judge the Act that deprived a whole nation of arms as the worst. If we want the Arms Act repealed, and if we want to learn to use arms, this is a golden opportunity. If the middle classes volunteer to help the Government in its hour of trial, distrust will disappear. The ban on possessing arms will then be lifted.’ The Commissioner referred to this argument. He said he appreciated my presence at the Conference despite our differences. I had to explain my position as courteously as I could.
Here is the letter to the Viceroy referred to above:
Here is the letter to the Viceroy mentioned above:
‘As you are aware, after careful consideration, I felt constrained to convey to Your Excellency that I could not attend the Conference for reasons stated in the letter of the 26th instant (April), but, after the interview you were good enough to grant me, I persuaded myself to join it, if for no other cause, then certainly out of my great regard for yourself. One of my reasons for abstention and perhaps the strongest was that Lokamanya Tilak, Mrs. Besant and the Ali Brothers, whom I regard as among the most powerful leaders of public opinion, were not invited to the Conference. I still feel that it was a grave blunder not to have asked them, and I respectfully suggest that that blunder might be possibly repaired if these leaders were invited to assist the Government by giving it the benefit of their advice at the Provincial Conferences, which, I understand, are to follow. I venture to submit that no Government can afford to disregard the leaders, who represent the large masses of the people as these do, even though they may hold views fundamentally different. At the same time it gives me pleasure to be able to say that the views of all parties were permitted to be freely expressed at the Committees of the Conference. For my part, I purposely refrained from stating my views at the Committee at which I had the honour of serving, or at the Conference itself. I felt that I could best serve the objects of the Conference by simply tendering my support to the resolutions submitted to it, and this I have done without any reservation. I hope to translate the spoken word into action as early as the Government can see its way to accept my offer, which I am submitting simultaneously herewith in a separate letter. ‘I recognise that in the hour of its danger we must give, as we have decided to give, ungrudging and unequivocal support to the Empire of which we aspire in the near future to be partners in the same sense as the Dominions overseas. But it is the simple truth that our response is due to the expectation that our goal will be reached all the more speedily. On that account, even as performance of duty automatically confers a corresponding right, people are entitled to believe that the imminent reforms alluded to in your speech will embody the main general principles of the Congress-League Scheme, and I am sure that it is this faith which has enabled many members of the Conference to tender to the Government their full-hearted co-operation. ‘If I could make my countrymen retrace their steps, I would make them withdraw all the Congress resolutions, and not whisper “Home Rule” or “Responsible Government” during the pendency of the War. I would make India offer all her able-bodied sons as a sacrifice to the Empire at its critical moment, and I know that India, by this very act, would become the most favoured partner in the Empire, and racial distinctions would become a thing of the past. But practically the whole of educated India has decided to take a less effective course, and it is no longer possible to say that educated India does not exercise any influence on the masses. I have been coming into most intimate touch with the ryots ever since my return from South Africa to India, and I wish to assure you that the desire for Home Rule has widely penetrated them. I was present at the sessions of the last Congress, and I was a party to the resolution that full Responsible Government should be granted to British India within a period to be fixed definitely by a Parliamentary Statute. I admit that it is a bold step to take, but I feel sure that nothing less than a definite vision of Home Rule to be realised in the shortest possible time will satisfy the Indian people. I know that there are many in India who consider no sacrifice is too great in order to achieve the end, and they are wakeful enough to realise that they must be equally prepared to sacrifice themselves for the Empire in which they hope and desire to reach their final status. It follows then that we can but accelerate our journey to the goal by silently and simply devoting ourselves heart and soul to the work of delivering the Empire from the threatening danger. It will be national suicide not to recognise this elementary truth. We must perceive that if we serve to save the Empire, we have in that very act secured Home Rule. ‘Whilst, therefore, it is clear to me that we should give to the Empire every available man for its defence, I fear that I cannot say the same thing about financial assistance. My intimate intercourse with the ryots convinces me, that India has already donated to the Imperial Exchequer beyond her capacity. I know, that in making this statement, I am voicing the opinion of the majority of my countrymen. ‘The Conference means for me, and I believe for many of us, a definite step in the consecration of our lives to the common cause, but ours is a peculiar position. We are today outside the partnership. Ours is a consecration based on hope of better future. I should be untrue to you and to my country if I did not clearly and unequivocally tell you what that hope is. I do not bargain for its fulfilment, but you should know, that disappointment of hope means disillusion. ‘There is one thing I may not omit. You have appealed to us to sink domestic differences. If the appeal involves the toleration of tyranny and wrong-doing on the part of officials, I am powerless to respond. I shall resist organised tyranny to the uttermost. The appeal must be to the officials that they do not ill-treat a single soul, and that they consult and respect popular opinion as never before. In Champaran by resisting an age-long tyranny I have shown the ultimate sovereignty of British justice. In Kheda a population that was cursing the Government now feels, that it, and not the Government, is the power when it is prepared to suffer for the truth it represents. It is, therefore, losing its bitterness and is saying to itself, that the Government must be a Government for people, for it tolerates orderly and respectful disobedience where injustice is felt. Thus Champaran and Kheda affairs are my direct, definite and special contribution to the War. Ask me to suspend my activities in that direction and you ask me to suspend my life. If I could popularise the use of soul-force, which is but another name for love-force, in place of brute force, I know that I could present you with an India that could defy the whole world to do its worst. In season and out of season, therefore, I shall discipline myself to express in my life this eternal law of suffering, and present it for acceptance to those who care, and if I take part in any other activity, the motive is to show the matchless superiority of that law. ‘Lastly, I would like you to ask His Majesty’s Ministers to give definite assurance about Mohammedan States. I am sure you know that every Mohammedan is deeply interested in them. As a Hindu, I cannot be indifferent to their cause. Their sorrows must be our sorrows. In the most scrupulous regard for the rights of those States and for the Muslim sentiment as to their places of worship, and your just and timely treatment of India’s claim to Home Rule lies the safety of the Empire. I write this, because I love the English nation, and I wish to evoke in every Indian the loyalty of Englishmen.’
‘As you know, after careful thought, I felt obliged to tell Your Excellency that I could not attend the Conference. I gave my reasons in my letter of April 26. But after the interview you kindly granted me, I persuaded myself to attend, if only out of my great regard for you. One reason for staying away, and perhaps the strongest, was that Lokamanya Tilak, Mrs. Besant and the Ali Brothers were not invited. I regard them as among the most powerful leaders of public opinion. I still feel that excluding them was a grave mistake. I respectfully suggest that it might be corrected by inviting them to advise the Government at the Provincial Conferences. I understand that those conferences are to follow. I would suggest that no government can afford to disregard leaders who represent the great masses of the people, as these leaders do. This is true even when those leaders hold fundamentally different views. At the same time, I am glad to say that all parties were allowed to express their views freely in the Conference committees. For my part, I deliberately chose not to state my views in the committee on which I had the honour to serve, or at the Conference itself. I felt I could best serve the Conference’s aims simply by supporting the resolutions submitted to it. I have done so without reservation. I hope to turn my words into action as soon as the Government can accept my offer. I am submitting that offer at the same time as this letter, in a separate letter. ‘I recognise that, in its hour of danger, we must give the Empire our wholehearted and unqualified support, as we have decided to do. We aspire in the near future to be partners in that Empire in the same sense as the Dominions overseas. But the simple truth is that our response rests on the expectation that our goal will be reached all the sooner. Fulfilling a duty automatically grants a corresponding right. For that reason, people are entitled to believe that the coming reforms mentioned in your speech will embody the main general principles of the Congress-League Scheme. I am sure that this faith has enabled many Conference members to offer the Government their wholehearted cooperation. ‘If I could make my countrymen retrace their steps, I would have them withdraw all the Congress resolutions. I would have them say nothing about “Home Rule” or “Responsible Government” while the War lasts. I would have India offer all her able-bodied sons as a sacrifice to the Empire at this critical moment. I know that this very act would make India the Empire’s most favoured partner. Racial distinctions would become a thing of the past. But practically all of educated India has decided on a less effective course. And it is no longer possible to say that educated India has no influence on the masses. Since returning to India from South Africa, I have been in close contact with the ryots, or tenant farmers. I wish to assure you that the desire for Home Rule has spread widely among them. I attended the sessions of the last Congress and supported its resolution on Responsible Government. The resolution called for full Responsible Government for British India within a period fixed by an Act of Parliament. I admit that this is a bold step. But I am sure that nothing less than a clear prospect of Home Rule, achieved as soon as possible, will satisfy the Indian people. I know that many in India consider no sacrifice too great to achieve that goal. They are alert enough to realise that they must be equally prepared to sacrifice themselves for the Empire. It is within that Empire that they hope and wish to reach their final status. It follows that we can only speed our journey towards that goal by quietly and simply devoting ourselves heart and soul to saving the Empire from the danger that threatens it. It would be national suicide not to recognise this basic truth. We must see that, if we help save the Empire, we have secured Home Rule by that very act. ‘Although it is clear to me that we should give the Empire every available man for its defence, I fear I cannot say the same about financial help. My close contact with the ryots convinces me that India has already given more to the Imperial Treasury than she can afford. I know that, in saying this, I am expressing the opinion of most of my countrymen. ‘For me, and I believe for many of us, the Conference marks a definite step towards dedicating our lives to the common cause. But our position is unusual. Today we are outside the partnership. Our dedication rests on the hope of a better future. I would be untrue to you and to my country if I did not state that hope clearly and plainly. I do not bargain for its fulfilment. But you should know that, if the hope is disappointed, disillusionment will follow. ‘There is one thing I must not leave out. You have appealed to us to set aside domestic differences. If that appeal means tolerating tyranny and wrongdoing by officials, I cannot respond to it. I shall resist organised tyranny to the utmost. The appeal must be made to officials, asking them not to mistreat a single person. They must also consult and respect public opinion as never before. In Champaran, by resisting a tyranny that had lasted for generations, I have shown the ultimate supremacy of British justice. In Kheda, people who once cursed the Government now feel that they, not the Government, hold the power when they are prepared to suffer for the truth they stand for. They are therefore losing their bitterness. They are telling themselves that the Government must be a government for the people, because it tolerates orderly and respectful disobedience where people feel there is injustice. The affairs of Champaran and Kheda are thus my direct, definite and special contribution to the War. To ask me to suspend my work in that direction is to ask me to suspend my life. If I could make the use of soul-force, another name for love-force, popular in place of brute force, I know I could present you with an India able to defy the whole world to do its worst. I shall therefore discipline myself at all times to express this eternal law of suffering in my life. I shall offer it for acceptance to those who care. And if I take part in any other activity, my purpose is to show the unmatched superiority of that law. ‘Lastly, I would like you to ask His Majesty’s Ministers to give a definite assurance about the Mohammedan States. I am sure you know that every Mohammedan is deeply concerned about them. As a Hindu, I cannot be indifferent to their cause. Their sorrows must be our sorrows. The Empire’s safety depends on the most scrupulous respect for the rights of those States and for Muslim feeling about their places of worship. It also depends on your just and timely treatment of India’s claim to Home Rule. I write this because I love the English nation, and I wish to awaken in every Indian the loyalty Englishmen feel.’