Chapter 1: The boy that defeated an empire
Mohan was a dull student in school. He used to be very shy and avoided all company. He used to be haunted by the fear of thieves, ghosts, and serpents. He did not dare to venture out of doors at night. It was almost impossible for him to sleep in the dark, as he would imagine ghosts coming from one direction, thieves from another and serpents from a third.
Those were the days when India was still under the British rule. Mohan was convinced by a close school friend that eating meat would make Indians strong enough to defeat the British.
Mohan was born into a strict vegetarian family and meat-eating was forbidden. But he went with his friend to a lonely spot by a river and tried eating goat meat. He found the meat as tough as leather and could barely swallow it. He felt sick and stopped eating. That night, he suffered from a terrible nightmare. He felt as though a live goat were bleating inside his stomach, causing him to wake up in deep remorse.
Later when Mohan was around the age of 15, he stole a small piece of gold from his brother's gold armlet and sold it, to settle a personal debt.
The guilt of stealing weighed so heavily on Mohan that he lost his peace of mind. But he lacked the courage to speak to his father directly, who at the time was bedridden with a severe illness. So Mohan wrote a confession letter and handed it over to his father. Then Mohan sat silently by his father's bedside, prepared to receive harsh punishment.
Mohan's father sat up, read the note in silence as tears rolled down his cheeks. He tore up the letter, closed his eyes and lay back down without speaking a single harsh word. Seeing his father's silent agony and sublime forgiveness instead of anger deeply moved Mohan's heart. He later said that these "pearl-drops of love" completely cleansed his heart and served as his first lesson in his experiments in life. He kept his promise to his father, and never stole again.
Later Mohan studied Law, but fared no better in his legal career. He did not know how to apply legal principles to practical situations. His book-learning left him without any clue about how to help a client. No one would dare to give him a case. His fellow advocates used to make jokes about him.
Having nothing else to do, he used to attend court every day to gain experience. But he had trouble following the cases and often dozed off in the middle of them. His first and only case was a routine, small claim. Following is an account what happened to that case, in his own words.
"This was my debut in the Small Causes Court. I appeared for the defendant and had thus to cross-examine the plaintiff's witnesses. I stood up, but my heart sank into my boots. My head was reeling and I felt as though the whole court was doing likewise. I could think of no question to ask. The judge must have laughed, and the lawyers no doubt enjoyed the spectacle. But I was past seeing anything.
I sat down and told the agent that I could not conduct the case, that he had better engage Patel and have the fee back from me. Mr. Patel was duly engaged for Rs. 51. To him, of course, the case was child's play.
I hastened from the Court, not knowing whether my client won or lost her case, but I was ashamed of myself, and decided not to take up any more cases until I had courage enough to conduct them."
After few such attempts to succeed in life, Mohan was exasperated. It was at that point that his life took one of those mysterious turns that some observers like to ascribe it to "fate" or "chance."
Through his brother, a local firm offered to help him out with a year's contract with its office in South Africa. It was a minor clerical position, well below the salary and prestige his education deserved. And it also meant separation from his wife, who had just borne them a second son. At the time it did not seem like much of an opportunity. But he jumped at the offer. It was, at least, a job, a chance to gain some experience and maybe an opportunity to send some money to his brother.
After a lengthy sea voyage, he landed in Durban in a frock-coat and turban and was received by his client Abdulla Sheth. Providence had lured him to what he later described as 'that God- forsaken Continent where I found God'.
Although the British and Dutch were altogether a small minority of the total population in South Africa, they treated both native Africans and Indians as less than human. Indians had been originally brought in 1860 at the request of the European settlers to help build their plantation economy. They had been lured as indentured labourers on a five-year contract with the right to stay on as free residents on their own.
In their path had followed merchants and other professionals. They were all looked down upon by the Europeans as outcastes and were contemptuously called 'coolies' or 'samis', irrespective of their occupation or status in society.
After about a week's stay in Durban his client arranged for Mohan to leave for Pretoria, where his presence would be required for the lawsuit. Europeans in South Africa always travelled in first class whereas Indians were expected to travel in third class. But Mohan's firm had reserved a first-class seat for him.
When the train reached Pietermaritzburg at about nine in the night, a white passenger boarding the train objected to the presence in the compartment of a 'coloured' man. Following is an account of the life-changing event in his own words.
The train reached Pietermaritzburg station, at about 9 in the night. A passenger came in, looked me up and down. He saw that I was a 'coloured' man. This disturbed him. Out he went and came in again with two officials.
They all kept quiet until another official came to me and said, 'Come along, you must go to the freight compartment.'
'But I have a first class ticket,' said I.
'That doesn't matter,' joined the other. 'I tell you, you must go to the freight compartment.'
'I was permitted to travel in this compartment, and I insist on going on in it.'
'No, you won't,' said the official. 'You must leave this compartment, or else I shall have to call police to push you out.'
'Yes, you may. I refuse to get out voluntarily.'
The police came. He took me by the hand and pushed me out. My luggage was also taken out. I refused to go to the freight compartment and the train steamed away.
I went and sat in the waiting room, keeping my hand-bag with me, and leaving the other luggage where it was. The railway authorities had taken charge of it.
It was winter, and winter in the higher regions of South Africa is severely cold. Pietermaritzburg being at a high altitude, the cold was extremely bitter. My over-coat was in my luggage, but I did not dare to ask for it lest I should be insulted again, so I sat and shivered.
There was no light in the room. A passenger came in at about midnight and possibly wanted to talk to me. But I was in no mood to talk.
I began to think of my duty. Should I fight for my rights or go back to India? Or should I go on to Pretoria without minding the insults, and return to India after finishing the case? It would be cowardice to run back to India without fulfilling my obligation. The hardship to which I was subjected was only a symptom of the deep disease of colour prejudice. I should try, if possible, to root out the disease and suffer hardships in the process.
But more was yet to come. The next evening Mohan continued the train journey - this time without any hindrance. But a bigger obstacle lay in wait on the journey from Charlestown to Johannesburg which had to be covered by stage coach. Mohan was made to sit with the coachman on the box outside, while the white conductor, or 'leader' as he was called, sat inside with the white passengers.
Mohan had pocketed the insult for fear of missing the coach altogether. On the way the 'leader' wanted to smoke and therefore made a seat on the box covered with a piece of dirty cloth on the foot-board and ordered Mohan to sit there instead. Mohan refused.
The 'leader', wild with rage, swore vilely and rained blows on Mohan, trying to throw him down. Mohan clung desperate to the brass rails, refusing to yield his seat and refusing also to be provoked to retaliate. Some of the white passengers protested at this cowardly assault, and the 'leader', crestfallen, was obliged to let Mohan remain where he was.
Thus Mohan learnt to say 'no', in the face of danger to his life. Earlier too he had learnt to say 'no' to wine and women, in the face of temptation to his virtue and in loyalty to the vow he had made to his mother. But this was a more dynamic 'No', which became the rock bed of fearlessness on which all his other virtues were to rest.
Faced with many failures and obstacles in life, instead of looking for solutions in the external world, Mohan started a life-long journey of self- discovery. He was none other than Mohan Das Karamchand Gandhi, famously known as Mahatma Gandhi or simply Gandhiji. He led his people towards Indian independence and thrown out the British during his very life time. We too can learn from him and walk in his footprints. Seeking Truth shall liberate us.