That Memorable Week! Part I

After a short tour in South India I reached Bombay, I think on the 4th April, having received a wire from Sjt. Shankarlal Banker asking me to be present there for the 6th of April celebrations.

After a short tour of South India, I arrived in Bombay, I think on April 4. Sjt. Shankarlal Banker had sent me a telegram asking me to be there for the April 6 celebrations.

But in the meanwhile Delhi had already observed the hartal on the 30th March. The word of Swami Shraddhanandji and the late Hakim Ajmal Khan Saheb was law there. The wire about the postponement of the hartal till the 6th of April had reached there too late. Delhi had never witnessed a hartal like that before. The Hindus and Musalmans seemed united like one man. Swami Shraddhanandji was invited to deliver a speech in the Jumma Masjid, which he did. All this was more than the authorities could bear. The police checked the hartal procession as it was proceeding towards the railway station, and opened fire, causing a number of casualties, and the reign of repression commenced in Delhi. Shraddhanandji urgently summoned me to Delhi. I wired back, saying I would start for Delhi immediately after the 6th of April celebrations were over in Bombay.

But meanwhile, Delhi had already observed the hartal on March 30. The word of Swami Shraddhanandji and the late Hakim Ajmal Khan Saheb was law there. The telegram postponing the hartal until April 6 had reached Delhi too late. Delhi had never seen a hartal like it before. Hindus and Musalmans seemed united as one. Swami Shraddhanandji was invited to speak at the Jumma Masjid, and he did. All this was more than the authorities could bear. The police stopped the hartal procession as it headed toward the railway station. They opened fire, causing a number of casualties, and the reign of repression began in Delhi. Shraddhanandji urgently summoned me to Delhi. I telegraphed back that I would leave for Delhi immediately after the April 6 celebrations in Bombay were over.

The story of happenings in Delhi was repeated with variations in Lahore and Amritsar. From Amritsar Drs. Satyapal and Kitchlu had sent me a pressing invitation to go there. I was altogether unacquainted with them at that time, but I communicated to them my intention to visit Amritsar after Delhi.

Similar events took place in Lahore and Amritsar, though they differed in some ways from those in Delhi. Drs. Satyapal and Kitchlu had sent me an urgent invitation to visit Amritsar. I did not know them at all at the time, but I told them I intended to visit Amritsar after Delhi.

On the morning of the 6th the citizens of Bombay flocked in their thousands to the Chowpati for a bath in the sea, after which they moved on in a procession to Thakurdvar. The procession included a fair sprinkling of women and children, while the Musalmans joined it in large numbers. From Thakurdvar some of us who were in the procession were taken by the Musalman friends to a mosque near by, where Mrs. Naidu and myself were made to deliver speeches. Sjt. Vithaldas Jerajani proposed, that we should then and there administer the Swadeshi and Hindu Muslim unity pledges to the people, but I resisted the proposal on the ground, that pledges should not be administered or taken in precipitate hurry, and that we should be satisfied with what was already being done by the people. A pledge once taken, I argued, must not be broken afterwards; therefore it was necessary that the implications of the Swadeshi pledge should be clearly understood, and the grave responsibility entailed by the pledge regarding Hindu Muslim unity fully realised by all concerned. In the end I suggested that those who wanted to take the pledges should again assemble on the following morning for the purpose.

On the morning of the 6th, thousands of Bombay’s citizens flocked to Chowpati to bathe in the sea. Afterward, they went in a procession to Thakurdvar. The procession included a good number of women and children, and Muslims joined in large numbers. From Thakurdvar, our Muslim friends took some of us in the procession to a nearby mosque. There, Mrs. Naidu and I were asked to give speeches. Sjt. Vithaldas Jerajani proposed that we ask the people to take the Swadeshi and Hindu Muslim unity pledges then and there. But I resisted the proposal. Pledges should not be offered or taken in haste, I said. We should be satisfied with what the people were already doing. I argued that a pledge, once taken, must not be broken. Everyone concerned therefore needed to understand clearly what the Swadeshi pledge meant. They also needed to fully realize the serious responsibility involved in the Hindu Muslim unity pledge. In the end, I suggested that those who wanted to take the pledges should gather again the following morning to do so.

Needless to say the hartal in Bombay was a complete success. Full preparation had been made for starting the civil disobedience. Two or three things had been discussed in this connection. It was decided, that civil disobedience might be offered in respect of such laws only as easily lent themselves to being disobeyed by the masses. The salt tax was extremely unpopular, and a powerful movement had been for some time past going on to secure its repeal, I therefore suggested, that the people might prepare salt from sea-water in their own houses in disregard of the Salt Laws. My other suggestion was about the sale of proscribed literature. Two of my books, viz., Hind Swaraj and Sarvodaya (Gujarati adaptation of Ruskin’s Unto this Last), that had been already proscribed, came handy for this purpose. To print and sell them openly seemed to be the easiest way of offering civil disobedience. A sufficient number of copies of the books was therefore printed, and it was arranged to sell them at the end of the monster meeting that was to be held that evening after the breaking of the fast.

Needless to say, the hartal in Bombay was a complete success. Preparations for starting civil disobedience were complete. We had discussed two or three things in connection with it. We decided that civil disobedience should be offered only against laws that the masses could easily disobey. The salt tax was extremely unpopular, and a strong movement to repeal it had been underway for some time. I therefore suggested that people make salt from seawater in their own homes, in defiance of the Salt Laws. My other suggestion concerned the sale of banned literature. Two of my books had already been banned: Hind Swaraj and Sarvodaya (a Gujarati adaptation of Ruskin’s Unto this Last). They were useful for this purpose. Printing and selling them openly seemed the easiest way to offer civil disobedience. So enough copies were printed, and arrangements were made to sell them at the end of the huge meeting that evening, after the fast had been broken.

On the evening of the 6th, an army of volunteers issued forth accordingly with this prohibited literature to sell it among the people. Both Shrimati Sarojinidevi and I went out in cars. All the copies were soon sold out. The proceeds of the sale were to be utilised for furthering the civil disobedience campaign. Both these books were priced at four annas per copy, but I hardly remember anybody having purchased them from me at their face value merely. Quite a large number of people simply poured out all the cash that was in their pockets to purchase their copy. Five and ten rupee notes just flew out to cover the price of a single copy, while in one case I remember having sold a copy for fifty rupees! It was duly explained to the people, that they were liable to be arrested and imprisoned for purchasing the proscribed literature. But for the moment they had shed all fear of jail going.

On the evening of the 6th, an army of volunteers went out as planned to sell this banned literature. Shrimati Sarojinidevi and I both went out in cars. All the copies soon sold out. The money from the sales was to support the civil disobedience campaign. Both books were priced at four annas a copy. But I hardly remember anyone buying a copy from me for just the stated price. Many people simply emptied their pockets of cash to buy a copy. Five and ten rupee notes flew out to pay for a single copy. In one case, I remember selling a copy for fifty rupees! We explained to the people that they could be arrested and imprisoned for buying the banned literature. But for the moment, they had lost all fear of going to jail.

It was subsequently learnt, that the Government had conveniently taken the view, that the books that had been proscribed by it had not in fact been sold, and that what we had sold was not held as coming under the definition of proscribed literature. The reprint was held by the Government to be a new edition of the books that had been proscribed, and to sell them thus did not constitute an offence under the law. This news caused general disappointment.

We later learned that the Government had conveniently decided that its banned books had not actually been sold. It ruled that what we had sold did not count as banned literature. The Government considered the reprint a new edition of the banned books. Selling the reprint was therefore not an offence under the law. This news caused general disappointment.

The next morning another meeting was held for the administration of the pledges with regard to Swadeshi and Hindu Muslim unity. Vithaldas Jerajani for the first time realised, that all is not gold that glitters. Only a handful of persons came. I distinctly remember some of the sisters who were present on that occasion. Men who attended were also very few. I had already drafted the pledge and brought it with me. I thoroughly explained its meaning to those present before I administered it to them. The paucity of the attendance neither pained nor surprised me, for I have noticed this characteristic difference in the popular attitude—partiality for exciting work, dislike for quiet constructive effort. The difference has persisted to this day.

The next morning, another meeting was held to administer the pledges concerning Swadeshi and Hindu Muslim unity. For the first time, Vithaldas Jerajani realized that all that glitters is not gold. Only a handful of people came. I clearly remember some of the women who were there. Very few men attended, too. I had already drafted the pledge and brought it with me. Before administering the pledge, I thoroughly explained its meaning to those present. The small attendance neither pained nor surprised me. I had noticed a characteristic difference in the public’s attitude: people preferred exciting work and disliked quiet, constructive effort. This difference has persisted to this day.

But I shall have to devote to this subject a chapter by itself. To return to the story. On the night of the 7th I started for Delhi and Amritsar. On reaching Mathura on the 8th I first heard echoes about my probable arrest. At the next stoppage after Mathura Acharya Gidvani came to meet me, and gave me definite news that I was to be arrested, and offered services to me if I should need them. I thanked him for the offer, assuring him that I would not fail to avail myself of it, if and when I felt it necessary.

But I will have to devote a separate chapter to this subject. To return to the story, I set out for Delhi and Amritsar on the night of the 7th. When I reached Mathura on the 8th, I first heard rumors that I might be arrested. At the next stop after Mathura, Acharya Gidvani came to see me. He told me with certainty that I was to be arrested and offered to help if I needed him. I thanked him and assured him that I would ask for his help if and when I felt it necessary.

Before the train had reached Palwal railway station, I was served with a written order to the effect, that I was prohibited from entering the boundary of the Punjab, as my presence there was likely to result in a disturbance of the peace. I was asked by the police to get down from the train. I refused to do so saying, ‘I want to go to the Punjab in response to a pressing invitation, not to foment unrest but to allay it. I am therefore sorry that it is not possible for me to comply with this order.’

Before the train reached Palwal railway station, I was given a written order barring me from entering the Punjab. The order said my presence there was likely to disturb the peace. The police asked me to get off the train. I refused, saying, ‘I want to go to the Punjab in response to an urgent invitation. My aim is not to stir up unrest, but to calm it. I am therefore sorry that I cannot obey this order.’

At last the train reached Palwal. Mahadev was accompanying me. I asked him to proceed to Delhi to convey to Swami Shraddhanandji the news about what had happened, and to ask the people to remain calm. He was to explain, why I had decided to disobey the order served upon me and to suffer the penalty for disobeying it, and also why it would spell victory for our side if we could maintain perfect peace in spite of any punishment that might be inflicted upon me.

At last, the train reached Palwal. Mahadev was traveling with me. I asked him to continue to Delhi and tell Swami Shraddhanandji what had happened. I also asked him to urge the people to remain calm. He was to explain why I had decided to disobey the order given to me and accept the penalty. He was also to explain why our side would win if we remained completely peaceful, whatever punishment I received.

At Palwal railway station I was taken out of the train and put under police custody. A train from Delhi came in a short time. I was made to enter a third class carriage, the police party accompanying. On reaching Mathura I was taken to the police barracks, but no police official could tell me as to what they proposed to do with me or where I was to be taken next. Early at 4 o’clock the next morning I was waked up and put in a goods train that was going towards Bombay. At noon I was again made to get down at Sawai Madhopur. Mr. Bowring, Inspector of Police, who arrived by the mail train from Lahore now took charge of me. I was put in a first class compartment with him. And from an ordinary prisoner I became a ‘gentleman’ prisoner. The officer commenced a long panegyric of Sir Michael O’Dwyer. Sir Michael had nothing against me personally, he went on; only he apprehended a disturbance of the peace if I entered the Punjab and so on. In the end he requested me to return to Bombay of my own accord and agree not to cross the frontier of the Punjab. I replied, that I could not possibly comply with the order, and that I was not prepared of my own accord to go back. Whereupon the officer seeing no other help told me, that he would have to enforce the law against me. ‘But what do you want to do with me?’ I asked him. He replied, that he himself did not know, but was awaiting further orders. ‘For the present,’ he said, ‘I am taking you to Bombay.’

At Palwal railway station, I was taken off the train and placed in police custody. A train from Delhi arrived shortly afterward. I was made to board a third class carriage, accompanied by the police. When we reached Mathura, I was taken to the police barracks. But no police official could tell me what they intended to do with me or where I would be taken next. At 4 o’clock the next morning, I was woken and put on a goods train bound for Bombay. At noon, I was again made to get off, this time at Sawai Madhopur. Mr. Bowring, Inspector of Police, arrived on the mail train from Lahore and took charge of me. I was placed in a first class compartment with him. And so I became a ‘gentleman’ prisoner instead of an ordinary prisoner. The officer began a long speech praising Sir Michael O’Dwyer. He went on to say that Sir Michael had nothing against me personally. Sir Michael only feared a disturbance of the peace if I entered the Punjab, and so on. In the end, the officer asked me to return to Bombay voluntarily and agree not to cross the Punjab border. I replied that I could not possibly obey the order and was not willing to return voluntarily. Seeing no other way, the officer told me he would have to enforce the law against me. ‘But what do you want to do with me?’ I asked him. He replied that he did not know himself but was waiting for further orders. ‘For the present,’ he said, ‘I am taking you to Bombay.’

Thus we reached Surat. Here I was made over to the charge of another police officer. ‘You are now free,’ the officer told me when we had reached Bombay. ‘It would however be better,’ he added, ‘if you get down near the Marine Lines where I shall get the train stopped for you. At Colaba there is likely to be a big crowd.’ I told him that I would be glad to follow his wish. He was pleased, and thanked me for it. Accordingly I alighted at the Marine Lines. The carriage of a friend just happened to be passing by. It took me and left me at Revashankar Jhaveri’s place. The friend told me, that the news of my arrest had incensed the people, and roused them to a pitch of mad frenzy. An outbreak is apprehended every minute near Pydhuni, the Magistrate and the police have already arrived there,’ he added.

Thus we reached Surat. There I was placed in the charge of another police officer. When we reached Bombay, the officer told me, ‘You are now free. However, it would be better if you got off near Marine Lines. I will have the train stopped there for you. There is likely to be a big crowd at Colaba.’ I told him I would be glad to do as he wished. He was pleased and thanked me. So I got off at Marine Lines. A friend’s carriage happened to be passing by. It took me to Revashankar Jhaveri’s place. The friend told me that news of my arrest had enraged the people and stirred them into a wild frenzy. ‘An outbreak is expected at any moment near Pydhuni. The Magistrate and the police have already arrived there,’ he added.

Scarcely had I reached my destination, when Umar Sobani and Anasuyabehn arrived, and asked me to motor to Pydhuni at once. ‘The people have become impatient, and are very much excited,’ they said, ‘we cannot pacify them. Your presence alone can do it.’

I had barely reached my destination when Umar Sobani and Anasuyabehn arrived. They asked me to drive to Pydhuni at once. ‘The people have become impatient and very excited,’ they said. ‘We cannot calm them. Only your presence can do that.’

I got into the car. Near Pydhuni I saw, that a huge crowd had gathered. On seeing me the people went mad with joy. A procession was immediately formed, and the sky was rent with the shouts of Vande mataram and Allaho akbar. At Pydhuni we sighted a body of mounted police. Brickbats were raining down from above. I beseeched the crowd to be calm, but it seemed as if we should not be able to escape the shower of brickbats. As the procession issued out of Abdur Rahman Street, and was about to proceed towards the Crawford Market, it suddenly found itself confronted by a body of the mounted police, who had arrived there to prevent it from proceeding further in the direction of the Fort. The crowd was densely packed. It had almost broken through the police cordon. There was hardly any chance of my voice being heard in that vast concourse. Just then the officer in charge of the mounted police gave the order to disperse the crowd, and at once the mounted party charged upon the crowd brandishing their lances as they went. For a moment I felt, that I would be hurt. But my apprehension was groundless, the lances just grazed the car as the lancers swiftly passed by. The ranks of the people were soon broken, and they were thrown into utter confusion which was soon converted into rout. Some got trampled under foot, others were badly mauled and crushed. In that seething mass of humanity there was hardly any room for the horses to pass, nor was there any exit by which the people could disperse. So the lancers blindly cut their way through the crowd. I hardly imagine they could see what they were doing. The whole thing presented a most dreadful spectacle. The horsemen and the people were mixed together in mad confusion.

I got into the car. Near Pydhuni, I saw that a huge crowd had gathered. When the people saw me, they went wild with joy. A procession formed immediately, and shouts of Vande mataram and Allaho akbar filled the sky. At Pydhuni, we saw a group of mounted police. Pieces of brick were raining down from above. I begged the crowd to stay calm, but it seemed we would not escape the shower of bricks. The procession came out of Abdur Rahman Street and was about to head toward Crawford Market. Suddenly, a group of mounted police stood in its way. They had come to stop the procession from going farther toward the Fort. The crowd was densely packed and had almost broken through the police line. In that vast crowd, there was hardly any chance of my voice being heard. Just then, the officer in charge of the mounted police ordered them to disperse the crowd. At once, they charged, waving their lances as they went. For a moment, I thought I would be hurt. But my fear was groundless. The lances just grazed the car as the mounted police rode swiftly past. The crowd soon broke apart, and the people were thrown into complete confusion. Confusion soon turned into a rout. Some were trampled underfoot, while others were badly hurt and crushed. In that seething mass of people, the horses had hardly any room to pass. There was no exit through which the people could disperse. So the mounted police blindly cut their way through the crowd. I can hardly imagine they could see what they were doing. The whole scene was dreadful. Horsemen and people were mixed together in wild confusion.

Thus the crowd was dispersed and its progress checked. Our motor was allowed to proceed. I had it stopped before the Commissioner’s office, and got down to complain to him about the conduct of the police.

The crowd scattered, and its progress was stopped. Our car was allowed to continue. I had it stop outside the Commissioner’s office. I got out to complain to him about the police’s conduct.