The Rowlatt Bills and My Dilemma

Friends and doctors assured me that I should recuperate quicker by a change to Matheran, so I went there. But the water at Matheran being very hard, it made my stay there extremely difficult. As a result of the attack of the dysentery that I had, my anal tract had become extremely tender, and owing to fissures I felt an excruciating pain at the time of evacuation, so that the very idea of eating filled me with dread. Before the week was over I had to flee from Matheran. Shankarlal Banker now constituted himself the guardian of my health, and pressed me to consult Dr. Dalal. Dr. Dalal was called accordingly. His capacity for taking instantaneous decisions captured me.

Friends and doctors assured me that I would recover faster if I went to Matheran, so I went there. But the water at Matheran was very hard, which made my stay extremely difficult. My attack of dysentery had left my anal tract extremely tender. Fissures caused excruciating pain when I passed stool, so the very thought of eating filled me with dread. Before the week was over, I had to flee Matheran. Shankarlal Banker now took charge of my health and urged me to consult Dr. Dalal. So Dr. Dalal was called. His ability to make instant decisions won me over.

He said: ‘I cannot rebuild your body, unless you take milk. If in addition you would take iron and arsenic injections, I would guarantee fully to renovate your constitution.’

He said: ‘I cannot restore your body unless you drink milk. If you also take iron and arsenic injections, I guarantee that I can fully restore your health.’

‘You can give me the injections,’ I replied, ‘but milk is a different question; I have a vow against it.’

‘You can give me the injections,’ I replied, ‘but milk is different. I have vowed not to drink it.’

‘What exactly is the nature of your vow?’ the doctor inquired.

‘What exactly does your vow involve?’ the doctor asked.

I told him the whole history and the reasons behind my vow, how, since I had come to know that the cow and the buffalo were subjected to the process of phooka, I had conceived a strong disgust for milk. Moreover I had always held that milk is not the natural diet of man. I had therefore abjured its use altogether. Kasturbai was standing near my bed listening all the while that this conversation was going on.

I told him the whole story and explained the reasons for my vow. I had learned that cows and buffaloes were subjected to phooka, and this had made me deeply disgusted by milk. I had also always believed that milk was not a natural food for humans. So I had given it up entirely. Kasturbai was standing near my bed, listening throughout the conversation.

‘But surely you cannot have any objection to goat’s milk then,’ she interposed.

‘But surely you have no objection to goat’s milk, then,’ she interrupted.

The doctor too took up the strain. ‘If you will take goat’s milk, it will be enough for me,’ he said.

The doctor also urged me. ‘If you will drink goat’s milk, that will be enough for me,’ he said.

I succumbed. My intense eagerness to take up the Satyagraha fight had created in me a strong desire to live. And so I contented myself with adhering to the letter of my vow only, and sacrificed its spirit. For although I had only the milk of the cow and the she-buffalo in mind when I took the vow, by natural implication it covered the milk of all animals. Nor could it be right for me to use milk at all, so long as I held that milk is not the natural diet of man. Yet knowing all this I agreed to take goat’s milk. The will to live proved stronger than the devotion to truth, and for once the votary of truth compromised his sacred ideal by his eagerness to take up the Satyagraha fight. The memory of this action even now rankles in my breast and fills me with remorse, and I am constantly thinking how to give up goat’s milk. But I cannot yet free myself from that subtlest of temptations, the desire to serve, which still holds me.

I gave in. My intense eagerness to join the Satyagraha fight had given me a strong desire to live. So I satisfied myself with keeping only the letter of my vow, while sacrificing its spirit. When I made the vow, I had only the milk of cows and female buffaloes in mind. But the vow naturally included the milk of all animals. Nor could it be right for me to drink any milk, as long as I believed that milk was not a natural food for humans. Yet, knowing all this, I agreed to drink goat’s milk. My desire to live proved stronger than my devotion to truth. For once, I, a devoted follower of truth, compromised my sacred ideal because I was eager to join the Satyagraha fight. The memory of what I did still troubles me and fills me with remorse. I am constantly thinking about how to give up goat’s milk. But I still cannot free myself from the most subtle temptation of all, the desire to serve.

My experiments in dietetics are dear to me as a part of my researches in Ahimsa. They give me recreation and joy. But my use of goat’s milk today troubles me not from the view-point of dietetic Ahimsa so much as that of truth, a breach of pledge. It seems to me that I understand the ideal of truth better than that of Ahimsa, and my experience tells me that if I let go my hold of truth, I shall never be able to solve the riddle of Ahimsa. The ideal of truth requires that vows taken should be fulfilled in the letter as well as in the spirit. In the present case I killed the spirit—the soul of my vow—by adhering to its outer form only, and that is what galls me. But in spite of this clear knowledge I cannot see my way straight before me. In other words, perhaps, I have not the courage to follow the straight course. Both at bottom mean one and the same thing, for doubt is invariably the result of want or weakness of faith. ‘Lord, give me faith’ is, therefore, my prayer day and night.

My experiments with diet are dear to me because they are part of my study of Ahimsa. They give me pleasure and joy. But drinking goat’s milk now troubles me less as a question of Ahimsa in my diet than as a breach of my pledge to tell the truth. It seems to me that I understand the ideal of truth better than that of Ahimsa. My experience tells me that if I let go of truth, I will never be able to solve the riddle of Ahimsa. The ideal of truth requires that vows be kept in both letter and spirit. In this case, I kept only to the letter of my vow and killed its spirit, its soul. That is what troubles me. But despite knowing this clearly, I cannot see the right path ahead. Or perhaps I do not have the courage to follow the right path. At heart, both mean the same thing, because doubt is always the result of a lack or weakness of faith. ‘Lord, give me faith’ is therefore my prayer day and night.

Soon after I began taking goat’s milk, Dr. Dalal performed on me a successful operation for fissures. As I recuperated, my desire to live revived, especially because God had kept work in store for me.

Soon after I started drinking goat’s milk, Dr. Dalal successfully operated on me for fissures. As I recovered, my desire to live returned, especially because God had more work for me to do.

I had hardly begun to feel my way towards recovery, when I happened casually to read in the papers the Rowlatt Committee’s report, that had just been published. Its recommendations startled me. Shankarlal Banker and Umar Sobani approached me with the suggestion that I should take some prompt action in the matter. In about a month I went to Ahmedabad. I mentioned my apprehensions to Vallabhbhai who used to come to see me almost daily. ‘Something must be done,’ said I to him. ‘But what can we do in the circumstances?’ he asked in reply. I answered, ‘If even a handful of men can be found to sign the pledge of resistance, and the proposed measure is passed into law in defiance of it, we ought to offer Satyagraha at once. If I was not laid up like this, I should give battle against it all alone, and expect others to follow suit. But in my present helpless condition I feel myself to be altogether unequal to the task.’

I had hardly begun to recover when I happened to read the newly published Rowlatt Committee’s report in the papers. Its recommendations startled me. Shankarlal Banker and Umar Sobani came to me and suggested that I take prompt action. About a month later, I went to Ahmedabad. I told Vallabhbhai of my concerns. He used to visit me almost daily. ‘Something must be done,’ I said to him. ‘But what can we do in the circumstances?’ he asked. I answered, ‘Even if we can find only a handful of men to sign the pledge of resistance, we should offer Satyagraha at once if the proposed measure is passed into law despite the pledge. If I were not laid up like this, I would fight the measure all alone and expect others to follow. But in my present helpless condition, I feel completely unequal to the task.’

As a result of this talk, it was decided to call a small meeting of such persons as were in touch with me. The recommendations of the Rowlatt Committee seemed to me to be altogether unwarranted by the evidence published in its report, and were, I felt, such that no self-respecting people could submit to them.

As a result of this discussion, we decided to call a small meeting of people who were in touch with me. I felt that the evidence published in the Rowlatt Committee’s report did not justify its recommendations at all. I also felt that no self-respecting people could submit to those recommendations.

The proposed conference was at last held at the Ashram. Hardly a score of persons had been invited to it. So far as I remember, besides Vallabhbhai, among those who attended were Shrimati Sarojini Naidu, Mr. Horniman, the late Mr. Umar Sobani, Sjt. Shankarlal Banker and Shrimati Anasuyabehn. The Satyagraha pledge was drafted at this meeting, and, as far as I recollect, was signed by all present. I was not editing any journal at that time, but I used occasionally to ventilate my views through the daily press. I followed the practice on this occasion. Shankarlal Banker took up the agitation in right earnest, and for the first time, I got an idea of his wonderful capacity for organisation and sustained work.

The proposed conference was finally held at the Ashram. Barely twenty people had been invited. As I remember, those who attended included Vallabhbhai, Shrimati Sarojini Naidu, Mr. Horniman, the late Mr. Umar Sobani, Sjt. Shankarlal Banker, and Shrimati Anasuyabehn. The Satyagraha pledge was drafted at this meeting. As far as I recall, everyone present signed it. I was not editing a journal at the time, but I occasionally expressed my views in the daily press. I did so on this occasion. Shankarlal Banker took up the campaign in earnest. For the first time, I saw his remarkable ability to organize and sustain his work.

As all hope of any of the existing institutions adopting a novel weapon like Satyagraha seemed to me to be vain, a separate body called the Satyagraha Sabha was established at my instance. Its principal members were drawn from Bombay itself, where naturally therefore, its headquarters were fixed. The intending covenanters began to sign the Satyagraha pledge in large numbers, bulletins were issued, and popular meetings began to be held everywhere recalling all the familiar features of the Kheda campaign.

It seemed to me that there was no hope of any existing institution adopting a new weapon like Satyagraha. So, at my suggestion, a separate organization called the Satyagraha Sabha was established. Its principal members were from Bombay itself, so naturally its headquarters were set up there. People wishing to join began signing the Satyagraha pledge in large numbers. Bulletins were issued, and public meetings began to be held everywhere. These activities recalled all the familiar features of the Kheda campaign.

I became the president of the Satyagraha Sabha. I soon found that there was not likely to be much chance of agreement between myself and the intelligentsia composing this Sabha. My insistence on the use of Gujarati in the Sabha, as also some of my other methods of work, that would appear to be peculiar, caused them no small worry and embarrassment. I must say to their credit, however, that most of them generously put up with my idiosyncrasies.

I became president of the Satyagraha Sabha. I soon realized that the Sabha’s intellectual members and I were unlikely to agree on much. They were quite worried and embarrassed by my insistence on using Gujarati in the Sabha. Some of my other ways of working, which might seem unusual, also worried and embarrassed them. To their credit, however, most of them generously put up with my peculiarities.

But, from the very beginning, it seemed clear to me that the Sabha was not likely to live long. I could see that already my emphasis on truth and Ahimsa had begun to be disliked by some of its members. Nevertheless in its early stages our new activity went on at full blast, and the movement gathered head rapidly.

But from the beginning, it seemed clear to me that the Sabha was unlikely to last long. I could see that some members had already begun to dislike my emphasis on truth and Ahimsa. Nevertheless, our new activity went ahead at full speed in its early stages, and the movement quickly gained momentum.