The Khilafat Against Cow Protection?

We must now leave, for the time being, these dark happenings in the Punjab.

For now, we must leave these dark events in the Punjab.

The Congress inquiry into Dyerism in the Punjab had just commenced, when I received a letter of invitation to be present at a joint Conference of Hindus and Musalmans that was to meet at Delhi to deliberate on the Khilafat question. Among the signatories to it were the late Hakim Ajmal Khan Saheb and Mr. Asaf Ali. The late Swami Shraddhanandji, it was stated, would be attending, and if I remember aright, he was to be the vice-president of the Conference, which, so far as I can recollect, was to be held in the November of that year. The Conference was to deliberate on the situation arising out of the Khilafat betrayal, and on the question as to whether the Hindus and Musalmans should take any part in the Peace celebrations. The letter of invitation went on to say, among other things, that not only the Khilafat question, but the question of cow protection as well, would be discussed at the Conference, and it would, therefore, afford a golden opportunity for a settlement of the cow question. I did not like this reference to the cow question. In my letter in reply to the invitation, therefore, whilst promising to do my best to attend, I suggested that the two questions should not be mixed up together, or considered in the spirit of a bargain, but should be decided on their own merits, and treated separately.

The Congress inquiry into Dyerism in the Punjab had just begun when I received an invitation. It was to a joint Conference of Hindus and Musalmans in Delhi to discuss the Khilafat question. Among those who signed the invitation were the late Hakim Ajmal Khan Saheb and Mr. Asaf Ali. The invitation said that the late Swami Shraddhanandji would attend. If I remember correctly, he was to be the vice-president of the Conference. As far as I recall, the Conference was to be held in November of that year. The Conference was to discuss the situation arising from the Khilafat betrayal. It was also to consider whether Hindus and Musalmans should take part in the Peace celebrations. The invitation said, among other things, that the Conference would discuss cow protection as well as the Khilafat question. It would therefore provide a golden opportunity to settle the cow question. I did not like this reference to the cow question. So, in my reply, I promised to do my best to attend but suggested that the two questions should not be mixed together or treated as a bargain. Each should be considered separately and decided on its own merits.

With these thoughts filling my mind, I went to the Conference. It was a very well attended gathering, though it did not present the spectacle of later gatherings that were attended by tens of thousands. I discussed the question referred to above with the late Swami Shraddhanandji who was present at the Conference. He appreciated my argument, and left it to me to place it before the Conference. I likewise discussed it with the late Hakim Saheb. Before the Conference I contended, that if the Khilafat question had a just and legitimate basis, as I believe it had, and if the Government had really committed a gross injustice, the Hindus were bound to stand by the Musalmans in their demand for the redress of the Khilafat wrong. It would ill become them to bring in the cow question in this connection, or to use the occasion to make terms with the Musalmans, just as it would ill become the Musalmans to offer to stop cow slaughter as a price for the Hindus’ support on the Khilafat question. But it would be another matter and quite graceful, and reflect great credit on them, if the Musalmans of their own free will stopped cow slaughter out of regard for the religious sentiments of the Hindus, and from a sense of duty towards them as neighbours and children of the same soil. To take up such an independent attitude was, I contended, their duty, and would enhance the dignity of their conduct. But if the Musalmans considered it as their neighbourly duty to stop cow slaughter, they should do so regardless of whether the Hindus helped them in the Khilafat or not. ‘That being so,’ I argued, ‘the two questions should be discussed independently of each other, and the deliberations of the Conference should be confined to the question of the Khilafat only.’ My argument appealed to those present, and as a result, the question of cow protection was not discussed at this Conference.

With these thoughts filling my mind, I went to the Conference. It was very well attended, though it did not draw the tens of thousands seen at later gatherings. I discussed the question mentioned above with the late Swami Shraddhanandji, who was present at the Conference. He appreciated my argument and left it to me to present it to the Conference. I also discussed it with the late Hakim Saheb. At the Conference, I argued that the Khilafat question had a just and legitimate basis, as I believed it did. If so, and if the Government had really committed a gross injustice, Hindus were bound to support Musalmans in seeking redress for the Khilafat wrong. It would be improper for Hindus to bring up the cow question in this connection or use the occasion to make a bargain with Musalmans. It would be just as improper for Musalmans to offer to stop cow slaughter as the price of Hindu support on the Khilafat question. But it would be a different matter if Musalmans freely chose to stop cow slaughter out of respect for Hindu religious sentiments. They might also do so from a sense of duty toward Hindus as neighbors and children of the same soil. This would be a gracious act and reflect great credit on Musalmans. I argued that it was their duty to take such an independent position and that it would make their conduct more dignified. But if Musalmans considered it their neighborly duty to stop cow slaughter, they should do so whether Hindus helped them on the Khilafat question or not. ‘That being so,’ I argued, ‘the two questions should be discussed separately, and the Conference should consider only the Khilafat question.’ My argument appealed to those present, and as a result, cow protection was not discussed at this Conference.

But in spite of my warning Maulana Abdul Bari Saheb said: ‘No matter whether the Hindus help us or not, the Musalmans ought, as the countrymen of the Hindus, out of regard for the latter’s susceptibilities, to give up cow slaughter.’ And at one time it almost looked as if they would really put an end to it.

But despite my warning, Maulana Abdul Bari Saheb said: ‘Whether the Hindus help us or not, Muslims should stop slaughtering cows. As fellow countrymen of the Hindus, we should respect their feelings.’ And for a time, it almost seemed that Muslims would really stop slaughtering cows.

There was a suggestion from some quarters, that the Punjab question should be tacked on to that of the Khilafat wrong. I opposed the proposal. The Punjab question, I said, was a local affair, and could not therefore weigh with us in our decision to participate or not in the Peace celebrations. If we mixed up the local question with the Khilafat question which arose directly out of the Peace terms, we should be guilty of a serious indiscretion. My argument easily carried conviction.

Some people suggested linking the Punjab question to the injustice done over the Khilafat. I opposed the proposal. I said that the Punjab question was a local matter. It should therefore not affect our decision about whether to take part in the Peace celebrations. The Khilafat question arose directly from the Peace terms. If we mixed it up with the local Punjab question, we would be making a serious mistake. My argument easily convinced them.

Maulana Hasrat Mohani was present in this meeting. I had known him even before, but it was only here that I discovered what a fighter he was. We differed from each other almost from the very beginning, and in several matters the differences have persisted.

Maulana Hasrat Mohani was at this meeting. I had known him before, but only here did I discover what a fighter he was. We disagreed almost from the start, and we still disagree on several matters.

Among the numerous resolutions that were passed at this Conference, one called upon both Hindus and Musalmans to take the Swadeshi vow, and as a natural corollary to it, to boycott foreign goods. Khadi had not as yet found its proper place. This was not a resolution that Hasrat Saheb would accept. His object was to wreak vengeance on the British Empire in case justice was denied in the matter of the Khilafat. Accordingly he brought in a counter proposal for the boycott purely of British goods so far as practicable. I opposed it on the score of principle, as also practicability, adducing for it my arguments that have now become pretty familiar. I also put before the Conference my viewpoint of non-violence. I noticed that my arguments made a deep impression on the audience. Before me, Hasrat Mohani’s speech had been received with such loud acclamations, that I was afraid that mine would only be a cry in the wilderness. I had made bold to speak only because I felt that it would be a dereliction of duty not to lay my views before the Conference. But to my agreeable surprise, my speech was followed with the closest attention by those present, and evoked a full measure of support among those on the platform, and speaker after speaker rose to deliver speeches in support of my views. The leaders were able to see, that not only would the boycott of British goods fail of its purpose, but would, if adopted, make of them a laughing stock. There was hardly a man present in that assembly but had some article of British manufacture on his person. Many of the audience therefore realised, that nothing but harm could result from adopting a resolution that even those, who voted for it, were unable to carry out.

Among the many resolutions passed at this Conference, one called on both Hindus and Musalmans to take the Swadeshi vow. As a natural consequence, they would also boycott foreign goods. Khadi had not yet found its proper place. Hasrat Saheb would not accept this resolution. His aim was to take revenge on the British Empire if justice was denied in the matter of the Khilafat. He therefore offered a counterproposal to boycott only British goods, as far as possible. I opposed his proposal on grounds of both principle and practicality, using arguments that have now become quite familiar. I also presented my views on non-violence to the Conference. I noticed that my arguments made a deep impression on the audience. Before I spoke, Hasrat Mohani’s speech had received such loud applause that I feared my own would fall on deaf ears. I had dared to speak only because I felt it would be a failure of duty not to present my views. But to my pleasant surprise, those present listened to my speech with the closest attention. It also won full support from those on the platform, and speaker after speaker rose to support my views. The leaders could see that a boycott of British goods would not only fail in its purpose. If adopted, it would also make them a laughingstock. Hardly anyone in the assembly was not wearing or carrying some British-made item. Many in the audience therefore realized that nothing but harm could come from adopting a resolution that even its supporters could not carry out.

‘Mere boycott of foreign cloth cannot satisfy us, for who knows how long it will be, before we shall be able to manufacture Swadeshi cloth in sufficient quantity for our needs, and before we can bring about an effective boycott of foreign cloth? We want something that will produce an immediate effect on the British. Let your boycott of foreign cloth stand, we do not mind it, but give us something quicker, and speedier in addition’—so spoke in effect Maulana Hasrat Mohani. Even as I was listening to him, I felt that something new, over and above boycott of foreign cloth, would be necessary. An immediate boycott of foreign cloth seemed to me also to be a clear impossibility at that time. I did not then know that we could, if we liked, produce enough Khadi for all our clothing requirements; this was only a later discovery. On the other hand, I knew even then, that if we depended on the mills alone for effecting the boycott of foreign cloth, we should be betrayed. I was still in the middle of this dilemma when the Maulana concluded his speech.

‘A boycott of foreign cloth alone cannot satisfy us. Who knows how long it will take before we can make enough Swadeshi cloth for our needs? And who knows how long it will take to make a boycott of foreign cloth effective? We want something that will have an immediate effect on the British. Keep your boycott of foreign cloth, we do not mind it. But give us something faster in addition.’ That was, in effect, what Maulana Hasrat Mohani said. As I listened to him, I felt that something more than a boycott of foreign cloth would be necessary. An immediate boycott of foreign cloth also seemed clearly impossible to me at that time. I did not then know that, if we wished, we could produce enough Khadi for all our clothing needs. I discovered this only later. On the other hand, I already knew that if we relied on the mills alone to carry out the boycott of foreign cloth, we would be betrayed. I was still struggling with this dilemma when the Maulana finished his speech.

I was handicapped for want of suitable Hindi or Urdu words. This was my first occasion for delivering an argumentative speech before an audience especially composed of Musalmans of the North. I had spoken in Urdu at the Muslim League at Calcutta, but it was only for a few minutes, and the speech was intended only to be a feeling appeal to the audience. Here on the contrary, I was faced with a critical, if not hostile, audience, to whom I had to explain and bring home my viewpoint. But I had cast aside all shyness. I was not there to deliver an address in the faultless, polished Urdu of the Delhi Muslims, but to place before the gathering my views in such broken Hindi as I could command. And in this I was successful. This meeting afforded me a direct proof of the fact that Hindi-Urdu alone could become the lingua franca of India. Had I spoken in English, I could not have produced the impression that I did on the audience, and the Maulana might not have felt called upon to deliver his challenge. Nor if he had delivered it, could I have taken it up effectively.

I struggled to find the right words in Hindi or Urdu. This was my first argumentative speech before an audience made up especially of Muslims from the North. I had spoken in Urdu at the Muslim League in Calcutta, but only for a few minutes. That speech was intended only as an emotional appeal to the audience. Here, by contrast, I faced a critical, if not hostile, audience. I had to explain my point of view and help them understand it. But I had put aside all shyness. I was not there to give a speech in the flawless, polished Urdu of the Delhi Muslims. I was there to present my views to the gathering in whatever broken Hindi I could manage. And I succeeded in doing so. This meeting gave me direct proof that only Hindi-Urdu could become India’s lingua franca. If I had spoken in English, I could not have made the impression I did on the audience. And the Maulana might not have felt called upon to issue his challenge. Nor could I have responded effectively if he had issued it.

I could not hit upon a suitable Hindi or Urdu word for the new idea, and that put me out somewhat. At last I described it by the word ‘non-co-operation,’ an expression that I used for the first time at this meeting. As the Maulana was delivering his speech, it seemed to me, that it was vain for him to talk about effective resistance to a Government, with which he was co-operating in more than one thing, if resort to arms was impossible or undesirable. The only true resistance to the Government, it therefore seemed to me, was to cease to co-operate with it. Thus I arrived at the word non-co-operation. I had not then a clear idea of all its manifold implications. I therefore did not enter into details. I simply said:

I could not find a suitable Hindi or Urdu word for the new idea, and that troubled me somewhat. At last I called it ‘non-co-operation’, an expression I used for the first time at this meeting. As the Maulana spoke, it seemed to me that his talk of effective resistance to the Government was futile. He was co-operating with the Government in more than one way. If taking up arms was impossible or undesirable, the only true resistance, it seemed to me, was to stop co-operating with it. That is how I arrived at the word non-co-operation. I did not yet have a clear idea of all its many implications. So I did not go into detail. I simply said:

‘The Musalmans have adopted a very important resolution. If the Peace terms are unfavourable to them,—which may God forbid,—they will stop all co-operation with Government. It is an inalienable right of the people thus to withhold co-operation. We are not bound to retain Government titles and honours, or to continue in Government service. If Government should betray us in a great cause like the Khilafat, we could not do otherwise than non-co-operate. We are therefore entitled to non-co-operate with Government in case of a betrayal.’

‘The Musalmans have adopted a very important resolution. If the peace terms are unfavorable to them, may God forbid it, they will stop all cooperation with the Government. The people have an undeniable right to withhold cooperation in this way. We are not required to keep Government titles and honors or remain in Government service. If the Government were to betray us in a great cause like the Khilafat, we would have no choice but to stop cooperating. We therefore have the right to stop cooperating with the Government if it betrays us.’

But months elapsed before the word non-co-operation became current coin. For the time being it was lost in the proceedings of the Conference. Indeed when I supported the co-operation resolution at the Congress which met at Amritsar a month later, I did so in the hope that the betrayal would never come.

But it was months before the term non-co-operation became widely used. For the time being, it was lost amid the proceedings of the Conference. Indeed, a month later, I supported the co-operation resolution at the Congress in Amritsar. I did so in the hope that the betrayal would never come.