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A TRAGEDY

A TRAGEDY

Amongst my few friends at the high school I had, at different times, two who might be called intimate. One of these friendships did not last long, though I never forsook my friend. He forsook me, because I made friends with the other. This latter friendship I regard as a tragedy in my life. It lasted long. I formed it in spirit of a reformer.

This companion was originally my elder brother's friend. They were classmates. I knew his weaknesses, but I regarded him as a faithful friend. My mother, my eldest brother, and my wife warned me that I was in bad company. I was too proud to heed my wife's warning. But I dared not go against the opinion of my mother and my eldest brother. Nevertheless I pleaded with them saying, 'I know he has the weaknesses you attribute to him, but you do not know his virtues. He cannot lead me astray, as my association with him is meant to reform him. For I am sure that if he reforms his ways, he will be a splendid man. I beg you not to be anxious on my account.'

I do not think this satisfied them, but they accepted my explanation and let me go my way.

I have seen since that I had calculated wrongly. A reformer cannot afford to have close intimacy with him whom he seeks to reform. True friendship is an identity of souls rarely to be found in this world. Only between like natures can friendship be altogether worthy and enduring. Friends react on one another. Hence in friendship there is very little scope for reform. I am of opinion that all exclusive intimacies are to be avoided; for man takes in vice far more readily than virtue. And he who would be friends with God must remain alone, or make the whole world his friend. I may be wrong, but my effort to cultivate an intimate friendship proved a failure.

A wave of 'reform' was sweeping over Rajkot at the time when I first came across this friend. He informed me that many of our teachers were secretly taking meat and wine. He also named many well-known people of Rajkot as belonging to the same company. There were also, I was told, some high-school boys among them.

I was surprised and pained. I asked my friend the reason and he explained it thus: 'We are a weak people because we do not eat meat. The English are able to rule over us, because they are meat-eaters. You know how hardy I am, and how great a runner too. It is because I am a meateater. Meat-eaters do not have boils or tumours, and even if they sometimes happen to have any, these heal quickly. Our teachers and other distinguished people who eat meat are no fools. They know its virtues. You should do likewise. There is nothing like trying. Try, and see what strength it gives.'

All these pleas on behalf of meat-eating were not advanced at a single sitting. They represent the substance of a long and elaborate argument which my friend was trying to impress upon me from time to time. My elder brother had already fallen. He therefore supported my friend's argument. I certainly looked feeble-bodied by the side of my brother and this friend. They were both hardier, physically stronger, and more daring. This friend's exploits cast a spell over me. He could run long distances and extraordinarily fast. He was an adept in high and long jumping. He could put up with any amount of corporal punishment. He would often display his exploits to me and, as one is always dazzled when he sees in others the qualities that he lacks himself, I was dazzled by this friend's exploits. This was followed by a strong desire to be like him. I could hardly jump or run. Why should not I also be as strong as he?

Moreover, I was a coward. I used to be haunted by the fear of thieves, ghosts, and serpents. I did not dare to stir out of doors at night. Darkness was a terror to me. It was almost impossible for me to sleep in the dark, as I would imagine ghosts coming from one direction, thieves from another and serpents from a third. I could not therefore bear to sleep without a light in the room. How could I disclose my fears to my wife, no child, but already at the threshold of youth, sleeping by my side? I knew that she had more courage than I, and I felt ashamed of myself. She knew no fear of serpents and ghosts. She could go out anywhere in the dark. My friend knew all these weaknesses of mine. He would tell me that he could hold in his hand live serpents, could defy thieves and did not believe in ghosts. And all this was, of course, the result of eating meat.

A doggerel of the Gujarati poet Narmad was in vogue amongst us schoolboys, as follows: Behold the mighty Englishman He rules the Indian small, Because being a meat-eater He is five cubits tall.

All this had its due effect on me. I was beaten. It began to grow on me that meat-eating was good, that it would make me strong and daring, and that, if the whole county took to meat-eating, the English could be overcome.

A day was thereupon fixed for beginning the experiment. It had to be conducted in secret. The Gandhis were Vaishnavas. My parents were particularly staunch Vaishnavas. They would regularly visit the Haveli. The family had even its own temples. Jainism was strong in Gujarat, and its influence was felt everywhere and on all occasions. The opposition to and abhorrence of meateating that existed in Gujarat among the Jains and Vaishnavas were to be seen nowhere else in India or outside in such strength. These were the traditions in which I was born and bred. And I was extremely devoted to my parents. I knew that the moment they came to know of my having eaten meat, they would be shocked to death. Moreover, my love of truth made me extra cautious. I cannot say that I did not know then that I should have to deceive my parents if I began eating meat. But my mind was bent on the 'reform'. It was not a question of pleasing the palate. I did not know that it had a particularly good relish. I wished to be strong and daring and wanted my countrymen also to be such, so that we might defeat the English and make India free. The word 'Swaraj' I had not yet heard. But I knew what freedom meant. The frenzy of the 'reform' blinded me. And having ensured secrecy, I persuaded myself that mere hiding the deed from parents was no departure from truth.

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AT THE HIGH SCHOOL

AT THE HIGH SCHOOL

I have already said that I was learning at the high school when I was married. We three brothers were learning at the same school. The eldest brother was in a much higher class, and the brother who was married at the same time as I was, only one class ahead of me. Marriage resulted in both of us wasting a year. Indeed the result was oven worse for my brother, for he gave up studies altogether. Heaven knows how many youths are in the same plight as he. Only in our present Hindu society do studies and marriage go thus hand in hand.

My studies were continued. I was not regarded as a dunce at the high school. I always enjoyed the affection of my teachers. Certificates of progress and character used to be sent to the parents every year. I never had a bad certificate. In fact I even won prizes after I passed out of the second standard. In the fifth and sixth I obtained scholarships and rupees four and ten respectively, an achievement for which I have to thank good luck more than my merit. For the scholarships were not open to all, but reserved for the best boys amongst those coming from the Sorath Division of Kathiawad. And in those days there could not have been many boys from Sorath in a class of forty to fifty.

My own recollection is that I had not any high regard for my ability. I used to be astonished whenever I won prizes and scholarships. But I very jealously guarded my character. The least little blemish drew tears from my eyes. When I merited, or seemed to the teacher to merit, a rebuke, it was unbearable for me. I remember having once received corporal punishment. I did not so much mind the punishment, as the fact that it was considered my desert. I wept piteously. That was when I was in the first or second standard. There was another such incident during the time when I was in the seventh standard. Dorabji Edulji Gimi was the headmaster then. He was popular among boys, as he was a disciplinarian, a man of method and a good teacher. He had made gymnastics and cricket compulsory for boys of the upper standards. I disliked both. I never took part in any exercise, cricket or football, before they were made compulsory. My shyness was one of the reasons for this aloofness, which I now see was wrong. I then had the false notion that gymnastics had nothing to do with education. Today I know that physical training should have as much place in the curriculum as mental training.

I may mention, however, that I was none the worse for abstaining from exercise. That was because I had read in books about the benefits of long walks in the open air, and having liked the advice, I had formed a habit of taking walks, which has still remained with me. These walks gave me a fairly hardy constitution.

The reason of my dislike for gymnastics was my keen desire to serve as nurse to my father. As soon as the school closed, I would hurry home and begin serving him. Compulsory exercise came directly in the way of this service. I requested Mr. Gimi to exempt me from gymnastics so that I might be free to serve my father. But he would not listen to me. Now it so happened that one Saturday, when we had school in the morning, I had to go from home to the school for gymnastics at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. I had no watch, and the clouds deceived me. Before I reached the school the boys had all left. The next day Mr. Gimi, examining the roll, found me marked absent. Being asked the reason for absence, I told him what had happened. He refused to believe me and ordered me to pay a fine of one or two annas (I cannot now recall how much).

I was convicted of lying ! That deeply pained me. How was I to prove my innocence? There was no way. I cried in deep anguish. I saw that a man of truth must also be a man of care. This was the first and last instance of my carelessness in school. I have a faint recollection that I finally succeeded in getting the fine remitted. The exemption from exercise was of course obtained, as my father wrote himself to the headmaster saying that he wanted me at home after school.

But though I was none the worse for having neglected exercise, I am still paying the penalty of another neglect, I do not know whence I got the notion that good handwriting was not a necessary part of education, but I retained it until I went to England. When later, especially in South Africa, I saw the beautiful handwriting of lawyers and young men born and educated in South Africa, I was ashamed of myself and repented of my neglect. I saw that bad handwriting should be regarded as a sign of an imperfect education. I tried later to improve mine, but it was too late. I could never repair the neglect of my youth. Let every young man and woman be warned by my example, and understand that good handwriting is a necessary part of education. I am now of opinion that children should first be taught the art of drawing before learning how to write. Let the child learn his letters by observation as he does different objects, such as flowers, birds, etc., and let him learn handwriting only after he has learnt to draw objects. He will then write a beautifully formed hand.

Two more reminiscences of my school days are worth recording. I had lost one year because of my marriage, and the teacher wanted me to make good the loss by skipping a class a privilege usually allowed to industrious boys. I therefore had only six months in the third standard and was prompted to he forth after the examinations which are followed by the summer vacation. English became the medium of instruction in most subjects from the fourth standard. I found myself completely at sea. Geometry was a new subject in which I was not particularly strong, and the English medium made it still more difficult for me. The teacher taught the subject very well, but I could not follow him. Often I would lose heart and think of going back to the third standard, feeling that the packing of two years' studies into a single year was too ambitious. But this would discredit not only me, but also the teacher; because, counting on my industry, he had recommended my promotion. So the fear of the double discredit kept me at my post. When however, with much effort I reached the thirteenth proposition of Euclid, the utter simplicity of the subject was suddenly revealed to me. A subject which only required a pure and simple use of one's reasoning powers could not be difficult. Ever since that time geometry has been both easy and interesting for me.

Samskrit, however, proved a harder task. In geometry there was nothing to memorize, whereas in Samskrit, I thought, everything had to be learnt by heart. This subject also was commenced from the fourth standard. As soon as I entered the sixth I became disheartened. The teacher was a hard taskmaster, anxious, as I thought, to force the boys. There was a sort of rivalry going on between the Samskrit and the Persian teachers. The Persian teacher was lenient. The boys used to talk among themselves that Persian was very easy and the Persian teacher very good and considerate to the students. The 'easiness' tempted me and one day I sat in the Persian class. The Samskrit teacher was grieved. He called me to his side and said: 'How can you forget that you are the son of a Vaishnava father? Won't you learn the language of your own religion? If you have any difficulty, why not come to me? I want to teach you students Samskrit to the best of my ability. As you proceed further, you will find in it things of absorbing interest. You should not lose heart. Come and sit again in the Samskrit class.'

This kindness put me to shame. I could not disregard my teacher's affection. Today I cannot but think with gratitude of Krishnashankar Pandya. For if I had not acquired the little Samskrit that I had learnt then, I should have found it difficult to take any interest in our sacred books. In fact I deeply regret that I was not able to acquire a more thorough knowledge of the language, because I have since realized that every Hindu boy and girl should possess sound Samskrit learning. It is now my opinion that in all Indian curricula of higher education there should be a place for Hindi, Samskrit, Persian, Arabic and English, besides of course the vernacular. This big list need not frighten anyone. If our education were more systematic, and the boys free from the burden of having to learn their subjects through a foreign medium, I am sure learning all these languages would not be an irksome task. but a perfect pleasure. A scientific knowledge of one language makes a knowledge of other languages comparatively easy.

In reality, Hindi, Gujarati and Samskrit may be regarded as one language, and Persian and Arabic also as one. Though Persian belongs to the Aryan, and Arabic to the Semitic family of languages, there is a close relationship between Persian and Arabic, because both claim their full growth through the rise of Islam. Urdu I have not regarded as a distinct language, because it has adopted the Hindi grammar and its vocabulary is mainly Persian and Arabic, and he who would learn good Urdu must learn Persian and Arabic, as one who would learn good Gujarati, Hindi, Bengali, or Marathi must learn Samskrit.

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PLAYING THE HUSBAND

PLAYING THE HUSBAND

About the time of my marriage, little pamphlets costing a pice, or a pie (I now forget how much), used to be issued, in which conjugal love, thrift, child marriages, and other such subjects were discussed. Whenever I came across any of these, I used to go through them cover to cover, and it was a habit with me to forget what I did not like, and to carry out in practice whatever I liked. Lifelong faithfulness to the wife, inculcated in these booklets as the duty of the husband, remained permanently imprinted on my heart. Furthermore, the passion for truth was innate in me, and to be false to her was therefore out of the question. And then there was very little chance of my being faithless at that tender age.

But the lesson of faithfulness had also untoward effect. 'If I should be pledged to be faithful to my wife, she also should be pledged to be faithful to me,' I said to myself. The thought made me a jealous husband. Her duty was easily converted into my right to exact faithfulness from her, and if it had to be exacted, I should be watchfully tenacious of the right. I had absolutely no reason to suspect my wife's fidelity, but jealousy does not wait for reasons. I must needs be for ever on the look-out regarding her movements, and therefore she could not go anywhere without my permission. This sowed the seeds of a bitter quarrel between us. The restraint was virtually a sort of imprisonment. And Kasturbai was not the girl to brook any such thing. She made it a point to go out whenever and wherever she liked. More restraint on my part resulted in more liberty being taken by her, and in my getting more and more cross. Refusal to speak to one another thus became the order of the day with us, married children. I think it was quite innocent of Kasturbai to have taken those liberties with my restrictions. How could a guileless girl brook any restraint on going to the temple or on going on visits to friends? If I had the right to impose restrictions on her, had not she also a similar right? All this is clear to me today. But at that time I had to make good my authority as a husband!

Let not the reader think, however, that ours was a life of unrelieved bitterness. For my severities were all based on love. I wanted to make my wife an ideal wife. My ambition was to make her live a pure life, learn what I learnt,and identify her life and thought with mine.

I do not know whether Kasturbai had any such ambition. She was illiterate. By nature she was simple, independent, persevering and, with me at least, reticent. She was not impatient of her ignorance and I do not recollect my studies having ever spurred her to go in for a similar adventure. I fancy, therefore, that my ambition was all one- sided. My passion was entirely centred on one woman, and I wanted it to be reciprocated. But even if there were no reciprocity, it could not be all unrelieved misery because there was active love on one side at least.

I must say I was passionately fond of her. Even at school I used to think of her, and the thought of nightfall and our subsequent meeting was ever haunting me. Separation was unbearable. I used to keep her awake till late in the night with my idle talk. If with this devouring passion there had not been in me a burning attachment to duty, I should either have fallen a prey to disease and premature death, or have sunk into a burdensome existence. But the appointed tasks had to be gone through every morning, and lying to anyone was out of the question. It was this last thing that saved me from many a pitfall.

I have already said that Kasturbai was illiterate. I was very anxious to teach her, but lustful love left me no time. For one thing the teaching had to be done against her will, and that too at night. I dared not meet her in the presence of the elders, much less talk to her. Kathiawad had then, and to a certain extent has even today, its own peculiar, useless and barbarous Purdah. Circumstances were thus unfavourable. I must therefore confess that most of my efforts to instruct Kasturbai in our youth were unsuccessful. And when I awoke from the sleep of lust, I had already launched forth into public life, which did not leave me much spare time. I failed likewise to instruct her through private tutors. As a result Kasturbai can now with difficulty write simple letters and understand simple Gujarati. I am sure that, had my love for her been absolutely untainted with lust, she would be a learned lady today; for I could than have conquered her dislike for studies. I know that nothing is impossible for pure love.

I have mentioned one circumstance that more or less saved me from the disasters of lustful love. There is another worth noting. Numerous examples have convinced me that God ultimately saves him whose motive is pure. Along with the cruel custom of child marriages, Hindu society has another custom which to a certain extent diminishes the evils of the former. Parents do not allow young couples to stay long. The child-wife spends more than half her time at her father's place. Such was the case with us. That is to say, during the first five years of our married life (from the age of 13 to 18), we could not have lived together longer than an aggregate period of three years. We would hardly have spent six months together, when there would be a call to my wife from her parents. Such calls were very unwelcome in those days, But they saved us both. At the age of eighteen I went to England, and this meant a long and healthy spell of separation. Even after my return from England we hardly stayed together longer than six months. For I had to run up and down between Rajkot and Bombay. Then came the call from South Africa, and that found me already fairly free from the carnal appetite.

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CHILD MARRIAGE

CHILD MARRIAGE

Much as I wish that I had not to write this chapter, I know that I shall have to swallow many such bitter draughts in the course of this narrative. And I cannot do otherwise, if I claim to be a worshipper of Truth. It is my painful duty to have to record here my marriage at the age of thirteen. As I see the youngsters of the same age about me who are under my care, and think of my own marriage, I am inclined to pity myself and to congratulate them on having escaped my lot. I can see no moral argument in support of such a preposterously early marriage.

Let the reader make no mistake. I was married, not betrothed. For in Kathiawad there are two distinct rites, betrothal and marriage. Betrothal is a preliminary promise on the part of the parents of the boy and the girl to join them in marriage, and it is not inviolable. The death of the boy entails no widowhood on the girl. It is an agreement purely between the parents, and the children have no concern with it. Often they are not even informed of it. It appears that I was betrothed thrice, though without my knowledge. I was told that two girls chosen for me had died in turn, and therefore I infer that I was betrothed three times. I have a faint recollection, however, that the third betrothal took place in my seventh year. But I do not recollect having been informed about it. In the present chapter I am talking about my marriage, of which I have the clearest recollection.

It will be remembered that we were three brothers. The first was already married. The elders decided to marry my second brother, who was two or three years my senior,a cousin, possibly a year older, and me, all at the same time. In doing so there was no thought of our welfare, much less our wishes. It was purely a question of their own convenience and economy.

Marriage among Hindus is no simple matter. The parents of the bride and the bridegroom often bring themselves to ruin over it. They waste their substance, they waste their time. Months are taken up over the preparations in making clothes and ornaments and in preparing budgets for dinners. Each tries to outdo the other in the number and variety of courses to be prepared. Women, whether they have a voice or no, sing themselves hoarse, even get ill, and disturb the peace of their neighbours. these in their turn quietly put up with all the turmoil and bustle all the dirt and filth, representing the remains of the feasts, because they know that a time will come when they also will be behaving in the same manner.

It would be better, thought my elders, to have all this bother over at one and the same time. Less expense and greater eclat. For money could be freely spent if it had only to be spent once instead of thrice. My father and my uncle were both old, and we were the last children they had to marry. it is likely that they wanted to have the last best time of their lives. In view of all these considerations, a triple wedding was decided upon, and as I have said before, months were taken up in preparation for it.

It was only through these preparations that we got warning of the coming event. I do not think it meant to me anything more than the prospect of good clothes to wear, drum beating, marriage processions, rich dinners and a strange girl to play with. The carnal desire came later. I propose to draw the curtain over my shame, except for a few details worth recording. To these I shall come later. But even they have little to do with the central idea I have kept before me in writing this story.

So my brother and I were both taken to Porbandar from Rajkot. There are some amusing details of the preliminaries to the final drama e.g. smearing our bodies all over with turmeric paste but I must omit them.

My father was a Diwan, but nevertheless a servant, and all the more so because he was in favour with the Thakore Saheb. The latter would not let him go until the last moment. And when he did so, he ordered for my father special stage coaches, reducing the journey by two days. But the fates had willed otherwise. Porbandar is 120 miles from Rajkot, a cart journey of five days. My father did the distance in three, but the coach toppled over in the third stage, and he sustained severe injuries. He arrived bandaged all over. Both his and our interest in the coming event was half destroyed, but the ceremony had to be gone through. For how could the marriage dates be changed? However, I forgot my grief over my father's injuries in the childish amusement of the wedding.

I was devoted to my parents. but no less was I devoted to the passions that flesh is heir to. I had yet to learn that all happiness and pleasure should be sacrificed in devoted service to my parents. And yet, as though by way of punishment for my desire for pleasures, an incident happened, which has ever since rankled in my mind and which I will relate later. Nishkulanand sings: 'Renunciation of objects, without the renunciation of desires, is short-lived, however hard you may try.' Whenever I sing this song or hear it sung, this bitter untoward incident, rushes to my memory and fills me with shame.

My father put on a brave face in spite of his injuries, and took full part in the wedding. As I think of it, I can even today call before my mind's eye the places where he sat as he went through the different details of the ceremony. Little did I dream then that one day I should severely criticize my father for having married me as a child. Everything on that day seemed to me own right and proper and pleasing. There was also my own eagerness to get married. And as everything that my father did then struck me as beyond reproach, the recollection of those things is fresh in my memory. I can picture to myself, even today, how we sat on our wedding dais, how we performed the Saptapadi how we, the newly wedded husband and wife, put the sweet Kansar into each other's mouth, and how we began to live together. And oh! that first night.Two innocent children all unwittingly hurled themselves into the ocean of life. My brother's wife had thoroughly coached me about my behaviour on the first night. I do not know who had coached my wife. I have never asked her about it, nor am I inclined to do so now. The reader may be sure that we were too nervous to face each other. We were certainly too shy. How was I to talk to her, and what was I to say? The coaching could not carry me far. But no coaching is really necessary in such matters. The impressions of the former birth are potent enough to make all coaching superfluous. We gradually began to know each other, and to speak freely together. We were the same age. but I took no time in assuming the authority of a husband.

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CHILDHOOD

CHILDHOOD

I must have been about seven when my father left Porbandar for Rajkot to become a member of the Rajasthanik Court. There I was put into a primary school, and I can well recollect those days, including the names and other particulars of the teachers who taught me. As at Porbandar, so here, there is hardly anything to note about my studies. I could only have been a mediocre student. From this school I went to the suburban school and thence to the high school, having already reached my twelfth year. I do not remember having ever told a lie, during this short period, either to my teachers or to my school-mates, I used to be very shy and avoided all company. My books and my lessons were my sole companions. To be at school at the stroke of the hour and to run back home as soon as the school closed-that was my daily habit. I literally ran back, because I could not bear to talk to anybody. I was even afraid lest anyone should poke fun at me.

There is an incident which occurred at the examination during my first year at the high school and which is worth recording. Mr Giles, the educational Inspector, had come on a visit of inspection. He had set us five words to write as a spelling exercise. One of the words was 'Kettle'. I had misspelt it. The teacher tried to prompt me with the point of his boot, but I would not be prompted. It was beyond me to see that he wanted me to copy the spelling from my neighbour's slate, for I had thought that the teacher was there to supervise us against copying. The result was that all the boys, except myself, were found to have spelt every word correctly. Only I had been stupid. The teacher tried later to bring this stupidity home to me. but without effect. I never could learn the art of 'copying'.

Yet the incident did not in the least diminish my respect for my teacher. I was by nature, blind to the faults of elders. Later I came to know of many other failings of this teacher, but my regard for him remained the same. For I had learnt to carry out the orders of elders, not to scan their actions.

Two other incidents belonging to the same period have always clung to my memory. As a rule I had a distaste for any reading beyond my school books. The daily lessons had to be done, because I disliked being taken to task by my teacher as much as I disliked deceiving him. Therefore I would do the lessons, but often without my mind in them. Thus when even the lessons could not be done properly, there was of course no question of any extra reading. But somehow my eyes fell on a book purchased by my father. It was Shravana Pitribhakti Nataka (a play about Sharavana's devotion to his parents). I read it with intense interest. There came to our place about the same time itinerant showmen. One of the pictures I was shown was of Shravana carrying, by means of slings fitted for his shoulders, his blind parents on a pilgrimage. The book and the picture left an indelible impression on my mind. 'Here is an example for you to copy,' I said to myself. The agonized lament of the parents over Shravana's death is still fresh in my memory. The melting tune moved me deeply, and I played it on a concertina which my father had purchased for me.

There was a similar incident connected with another play. Just about this time, I had secured my father's permission to see a play performed by a certain dramatic company. This play- Harishchandra- captured my heart. I could never be tired of seeing it. But how often should I be permitted to go? It haunted me and I must have acted Harishchandra to myself times without number. 'Why should not all be truthful like Harishchandra?' was the question I asked myself day and night. To follow truth and to go through all the ordeals Harishchandra went through was the one ideal it inspired in me. I literally believed in the story of Harishchandra. The thought of it all often made me weep. My commonsense tells me today that Harishchandra could not have been a historical character. Still both Harishchandra and Shravana are living realities for me, and I am sure I should be moved as before if I were to read those plays again today.

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BIRTH AND PARENTAGE

BIRTH AND PARENTAGE

The Gandhis belong to the Bania caste and seem to have been originally grocers. But for three generations, from my grandfather, they have been Prime Ministers in several Kathiawad States. Uttamchand Gandhi, alias Ota Gandhi, my grandfather, must have been a man of principle. State intrigues compelled him to leave Porbandar, where he was Diwan, and to seek refuge in Junagadh. There he saluted the Nawab with the left hand. Someone, noticing the apparent discourtesy, asked for an explanation, which was given thus: 'The right hand is already pledged to Porbandar.'

Ota Gandhi married a second time, having lost his first wife. He had four sons by his first wife and two by his second wife. I do not think that in my childhood I ever felt or knew that these sons of Ota Gandhi were not all of the same mother. The fifth of these six brothers was Karamchand Gandhi, alias Kaba Gandhi, and the sixth was Tulsidas Gandhi. Both these brothers were Prime Ministers in Porbandar, one after the other. Kaba Gandhi was my father. He was a member of the Rajasthanik Court. It is now extinct, but in those days it was a very influential body for settling disputes between the chiefs and their fellow clansmen. He was for some time Prime Minister in Rajkot and then in Vankaner. He was a pensioner of the Rajkot State when he died. Kaba Gandhi married four times in succession, having lost his wife each time by death. He had two daughters by his first and second marriages. His last wife, Putlibai, bore him a daughter and three sons, I being the youngest.

My father was a lover of his clan, truthful, brave and generous, but short-tempered. To a certain extent he might have been given to carnal pleasures. For he married for the fourth time when he was over forty. But he was incorruptible and had earned a name for strict impartiality in his family as well as outside. His loyalty to the state was well known. An Assistant Political Agent spoke insultingly of the Rajkot Thakore Saheb, his chief, and he stood up to the insult. The Agent was angry and asked Kaba Gandhi to apologize. This he refused to do and was therefore kept under detention for a few hours. But when the Agent saw that Kaba Gandhi was adamant, he ordered him to be released.

My father never had any ambition to accumulate riches and left us very little property.

He had no education, save that of experience. At best, he might be said to have read up to the fifth Gujarati standard. Of history and geography he was innocent. But his rich experience of practical affairs stood him in good stead in the solution of the most intricate questions and in managing hundreds of men. Of religious training he had very little, but he had that kind of religious culture which frequent visits to temples and listening to religious discourses make available to many Hindus. In his last days he began reading the Gita at the instance of a learned Brahman friend of the family, and he used to repeat aloud some verses every day at the time of worship.

The outstanding impression my mother has left on my memory is that of saintliness. She was deeply religious. She would not think of taking her meals without her daily prayers. Going to Haveli -the Vaishnava temple-was one of her daily duties. As far as my memory can go back, I do not remember her having ever missed the Chaturmas . She would take the hardest vows and keep them without flinching. Illness was no excuse for relaxing them. I can recall her once falling ill when she was observing the Chandrayana vow, but the illness was not allowed to interrupt the observance. To keep two or three consecutive fasts was nothing to her. Living on one meal a day during Chaturmas was a habit with her. Not content with that she fasted every alternate day during one Chaturmas . During another Chaturmas she vowed not to have food without seeing the sun. We children on those days would stand, staring at the sky, waiting to announce the appearance of the sun to our mother. Everyone knows that at the height of the rainy season the sun often does not condescend to show his face. And I remember days when, at his sudden appearance, we would rush and announce it to her, She would run out to se with her own eyes, but by that time the fugitive sun would be gone, thus depriving her of her meal. "That does not matter," she would say cheerfully, "God did not want me to eat today." And then she would return to her round of duties.

My mother had strong commonsense. She was well informed about all matters of state, and ladies of the court thought highly of her intelligence. Often I would accompany her, exercising the privilege of childhood, and I still remember many lively discussions she had with the widowed mother of the Thakore Saheb.

Of these parents I was born at Porbandar, otherwise known as Sudamapuri, on the 2nd October, 1869, I passed my childhood in Porbandar. I recollect having been put to school. It was with some difficulty that I got through the multiplication tables. The fact that I recollect nothing more of those days than having learnt, in company with other boys, to call our teacher all kinds of names, would strongly suggest that my intellect must have been sluggish, and my memory raw.

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Gandhi; An Autobiography ; The story of my experiments with truth

Title : Gandhi; An Autobiography ; The story of my experiments with truth

By : M. K. Gandhi

Publisher : NAVAJIVAN PUBLISHING HOUSE, AHMEDABAD-380014

Language : English

Edition :

Page : Full | Limited

Note : Free | Buy

__________________________________

TRANSLATED FROM THE GUJARATI BY MAHADEV DESAI

GANDHI BOOK CENTRE

Bombay Sarvodaya Mandal

NAVAJIVAN PUBLISHING HOUSE

AHMEDABAD-380014

_________________________

Contents :

Chapter 1 BIRTH AND PARENTAGE

Chapter 2 CHILDHOOD

Chapter 3 CHILD MARRIAGE

Chapter 4 PLAYING THE HUSBAND

Chapter 5 AT THE HIGH SCHOOL

Chapter 6 A TRAGEDY

Chapter 7 A TRAGEDY (contd.)

Chapter 8 STEALING AND ATONEMENT

Chapter 9 MY FATHER'S DEATH AND MY DOUBLE SHAME

Chapter 10 GLIMPSES OF RELIGION

Chapter 11 PREPARATION FOR ENGLAND

Chapter 12 OUTCASTE

Chapter 13 IN LONDON AT LAST

Chapter 14 MY CHOICE

Chapter 15 PLAYING THE ENGLISH GENTLEMAN

Chapter 16 CHANGES

Chapter 17 EXPERIMENTS IN DIETETICS

Chapter 18 SHYNESS MY SHIELD

Chapter 19 THE CANKER OF UNTRUTH

Chapter 20 ACQUAINTANCE WITH RELIGIONS

Chapter 21 NIRBAL KE BAL RAM

Chapter 22 NARAYAN HEMCHANDRA

Chapter 23 THE GREAT EXHIBITION

Chapter 24 'CALLED'-BUT THEN ?

Chapter 25 MY HELPLESSNESS

Chapter 26 RAYCHANDBHAI

Chapter 27 HOW I BEGAN LIFE

Chapter 28 THE FIRST CASE

Chapter 29 THE FIRST SHOCK

Chapter 30 PREPARING FOR SOUTH AFRICA

Chapter 31 ARRIVAL IN NATAL

Chapter 32 SOME EXPERIENCES

Chapter 33 ON THE WAY TO PRETORIA

Chapter 34 MORE HARDSHIPS

Chapter 35 FIRST DAY IN PRETORIA

Chapter 36 CHRISTIAN CONTACTS

Chapter 37 SEEKING TOUCH WITH INDIANS

Chapter 38 WHAT IT IS TO BE A 'COOLIE'

Chapter 39 PREPARATION FOR THE CASE

Chapter 40 RELIGIOUS FERMENT

Chapter 41 MAN PROPOSES, GOD DISPOSES

Chapter 42 SETTLED IN NATAL

Chapter 43 NATAL INDIAN CONGRESS

Chapter 44 COLOUR BAR

Chapter 45 BALASUNDARAM

Chapter 46 THE £ 3 TAX

Chapter 47 COMPARATIVE STUDY OF RELIGIONS

Chapter 48 AS A HOUSEHOLDER

Chapter 49 HOMEWARD

Chapter 50 IN INDIA

Chapter 51 TWO PASSIONS

Chapter 52 THE BOMBAY MEETING

Chapter 53 POONA AND MADRAS

Chapter 54 'RETURN SOON'

Chapter 55 RUMBLINGS OF THE STORM

Chapter 56 THE STORM

Chapter 57 THE TEST

Chapter 58 THE CALM AFTER THE STORM

Chapter 59 EDUCATION OF CHILDREN

Chapter 60 SPIRIT OF SERVICE

Chapter 61 BRAHMACHARYA -- I

Chapter 62 BRAHM ACHARYA - II

Chapter 63 SIMPLE LIFE

Chapter 64 THE BOER WAR

Chapter 65 SANITARY REFORM AND FAMINE RELIEF

Chapter 66 RETURN TO INDIA

Chapter 67 IN INDIA AGAIN

Chapter 68 CLERK AND BEARER

Chapter 69 IN THE CONGRESS

Chapter 70 LORD CURZON'S DARBAR

Chapter 71 A MONTH WITH GOKHALE -- I

Chapter 72 A MONTH WITH GOKHALE -- II

Chapter 73 A MONTH WITH GOKHALE -- III

Chapter 74 IN BENARES

Chapter 75 SETTLED IN BOMBAY

Chapter 76 FAITH ON ITS TRIAL

Chapter 77 TO SOUTH AFRICA AGAIN

Chapter 78 'LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST'?

Chapter 79 AUTOCRATS FROM ASIA

Chapter 80 POCKETED THE INSULT

Chapter 81 QUICKENED SPIRIT OF SACRIFICE

Chapter 82 RESULT OF INTROSPECTION

Chapter 83 A SACRIFICE TO VEGETARIANISM

Chapter 84 EXPERIMENTS IN EARTH AND WATER TREATMENT

Chapter 85 A WARNING

Chapter 86 A TUSSLE WITH POWER

Chapter 87 A SACRED RECOLLECTION AND PENANCE

Chapter 88 INTIMATE EUROPEAN CONTACTS

Chapter 89 EUROPEAN CONTACTS (Contd.)

Chapter 90 'INDIAN OPINION'

Chapter 91 COOLIE LOCATIONS OR GHETTOS?

Chapter 92 THE BLACK PLAGUE - I

Chapter 93 THE BLACK PLAGUE - II

Chapter 94 LOCATION IN FLAMES

Chapter 95 THE MAGIC SPELL OF A BOOK

Chapter 96 THE PHOENIX SETTLEMENT

Chapter 97 THE FIRST NIGHT

Chapter 98 POLAK TAKES THE PLUNGE

Chapter 99 WHOM GOD PROTECTS

Chapter 100 A PEEP INTO THE HOUSEHOLD

Chapter 101 THE ZULU 'REBELLION'

Chapter 102 HEART SEARCHINGS

Chapter 103 THE BIRTH OF SATYAGRAHA

Chapter 104 MORE EXPERIMENTS IN DIETETICS

Chapter 105 KASTURBAI'S COURAGE

Chapter 106 DOMESTIC SATYAGRAHA

Chapter 107 TOWARDS SELF-RESTRAINT

Chapter 108 FASTING

Chapter 109 AS SCHOOLMASTER

Chapter 110 LITERARY TRAINING

Chapter 111 TRAINING OF THE SPIRIT

Chapter 112 TARES AMONG THE WHEAT

Chapter 113 FASTING AS PENANCE

Chapter 114 TO MEET GOKHALE

Chapter 115 MY PART IN THE WAR

Chapter 116 A SPIRITUAL DILEMMA

Chapter 117 MINIATURE SATYAGRAHA

Chapter 118 GOKHALE'S CHARITY

Chapter 119 TREATMENT OF PLEURISY

Chapter 120 HOMEWARD

Chapter 121 SOME REMINISCENCES OF THE BAR

Chapter 122 SHARP PRACTICE?

Chapter 123 CLIENTS TURNED CO-WORKERS

Chapter 124 HOW A CLIENT WAS SAVED

Chapter 125 THE FIRST EXPERIENCE

Chapter 126 WITH GOKHALE IN POONA

Chapter 127 WAS IT A THREAT ?

Chapter 128 SHANTINIKETAN

Chapter 129 WOES OF THIRD CLASS PASSENGERS

Chapter 131 KUMBHA MELA

Chapter 132 LAKSHMAN JHULA

Chapter 133 FOUNDING OF THE ASHRAM

Chapter 134 ON THE ANVIL

Chapter 135 ABOLITION OF INDENTURED EMIGRATION

Chapter 136 THE STAIN OF INDIGO

Chapter 137 THE GENTLE BIHARI

Chapter 138 FACE TO FACE WITH AHIMSA

Chapter 139 CASE WITHDRAWN

Chapter 140 METHODS OF WORK

Chapter 141 COMPANIONS

Chapter 142 PENETRATING THE VILLAGES

Chapter 143 WHEN A GOVERNOR IS GOOD

Chapter 144 IN TOUCH WITH LABOUR

Chapter 145 A PEEP INTO THE ASHRAM

Chapter 146 THE FAST

Chapter 148 'THE ONION THIEF'

Chapter 149 END OF KHEDA SATYAGRAHA

Chapter 151 RECRUITING CAMPAIGN

Chapter 152 NEAR DEATH's DOOR

Chapter 153 THE ROWLATT BILLS AND MY DILEMMA

Chapter 154 THAT WONDERFUL SPECTACLE !

Chapter 155 THAT MEMORABLE WEEK ! --I

Chapter 156 THAT MEMORABLE WEEK !---II

Chapter 157 'A HIMALAYAN MISCALCULATION'

Chapter 158 'NAVAJIVAN' AND 'YOUNG INDIA'

Chapter 159 IN THE PUNJAB

Chapter 160 THE KHILAFAT AGAINST COW PROTECTION ?

Chapter 161 THE AMRITSAR CONGRESS

Chapter 162 CONGRESS INITIATION

Chapter 163 THE BIRTH OF KHADI

Chapter 164 FOUND AT LAST !

Chapter 165 AN INSTRUCTIVE DIALOGUE

Chapter 166 ITS RISING TIDE

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Youth

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Traveling

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Perburuan

Perburuan

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Nyanyi Sunyi Seorang Bisu ( 2 )

Nyanyi Sunyi Seorang Bisu ( 2 )

Pramoedya Ananta Toer

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Larry King ; Master Mic

Title : Larry King ; Master Mic

Original Title : Larry King ; My Remarkable Journey

By : Larry King

Publisher : Ufuk Publishing House, Indonesia

Language : Indonesia

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Atlantis ; The Lost Continent Finally Found

Atlantis ; The Lost Continent Finally Found ; The Devinitive Localization of Plato's Lost Civilization ; Indonesia Ternyata Tempat Lahir Peradaban Dunia

By Prof. Arysio Santos

Publisher : Ufuk Publishing House, Indonesia

Language : Indonesia

Edition : 2009

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Dalih Pembunuhan Massal

Title : Dalih Pembunuhan Massal

Original Title : Pretext for Mass Murder ; The September 30th Movement and Soeharto's Coup d'Etat Indonesia

By : John Roosa

Publisher : Institut Sejarah Sosial Indonesia dan Hasta Mitra, Indonesia

Language : Indonesia

Edition : 2008

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Gadis Pantai

Gadis Pantai

Pramoedya Ananta Toer

Halaman : Full

Bahasa :Indonesia

Penerbit : Lentera Dipantara, Indonesia

Baca Sinopsis/ Artikel/ Resensi/ Opini Terkait

Buku ini menceritakan nasib seorang wanita yang lahir di sebuah kampung nelayan di pantai utara Jawa, dekat kota Rembang. Pada umur 14 tahun dia dinikahkan dengan seorang pembesar asal Bima. Pembesar itu Bendoro, tidak menghadiri upacara pernikahan sendiri, hanya diwakili sebilah keris. Gadis itu tidak mau pindah ke rumah mewah di kota itu, tapi terus diantarkan orang tuanya yang berpikir Gadis Pantai akan hidup berbahagia dan nyaman di sana. Di rumah Bendoro tersebut ada seorang pembantu tua yang mengajarkan kepada Gadis Pantai segalanya yang harus dia tahu dan lakukan untuk memelihara kenangan suaminya. Gadis pantai yang namanya diganti jadi Mas Nganten, dan pembantu tua itu saling menyukai. Selain dia tidak ada orang pun di rumah itu yang peduli pada Mas Nganten yang merasa sangat sendirian. Suaminya mengunjungi dia jarang saja. Sesudah pembantu mengkritik anak-anak yang ada di rumah, dia diusir walaupun sudah bekerja di rumah itu bertahun-tahun. Pembantu berikutnya ternyata sangat sombong dan jahat dan Mas Nganten merasa terancam. Akhirnya dia sadar bahwa pernikahan dia hanya percobaan saja dan bahwa suaminya akan menikah lagi dengan wanita segolongan. Gadis pantai mendapat ijin untuk mengunjungi orang tuanya di kampung. Disitu dia mengalami perubahan perilaku orang kampung terhadap dirinya. Dia dianggap Bendoro, priyayi bukan orang kampung lagi. Itu merupakan hal yang sangat menyedihkan dan menyakitkan buat Gadis Pantai. Waktu dia sudah tinggal di kota selama tiga tahun, dia melahirkan bayi perempuan. Beberapa saat kemudian dia diusir dari rumah Bendoro. Bayinya tertingal disana. Begini berakhir kisah si Gadis Pantai. Kisah berlangsung pada awal abad ke-20 dan menggambarkan hal-hal masyarakat pada saat itu. Memang masih ada perbedaan antara golongan-golongan sekarang juga, tetapi pada waktu itu orang biasa tidak punya hak apapun dan diperlakukan secara tidak manusiawi. Pramoedya Ananta Toer melukiskan keadaan dan suasana baik kota baik kampung dengan tajam. Penjelasan sifat dan pikiran-pikiran tokoh dan lingkungannya membuat pembaca sempat mengenal mereka seolah-olah dalam kenyataan. Sumber : Klik

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Arkeologi Sejarah Pemikiran Arab Islam

Judul : Arkeologi Sejarah Pemikiran Arab - Islam (Vol.2)

Penulis : Adonis

Halaman : Terbatas

Bahasa :Indonesia

Penerbit : LKiS Yogyakarta, Indonesia

Baca Sinopsis/ Artikel/ Resensi/ Opini Terkait

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Catalog of Recent Books

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