Mahatma Gandhi's autobiography Sathiya Sodhani is one book which guides you as to what is right and wrong. Most importantly, the author should have experienced all these. The original was in Gujarati, and was later translated into English and other Indian languages. The book is in five parts, beginning with his birth, up until the year 1921. In the last chapter he writes, "My life from this point onward has been so public that there is hardly anything about it that people do not know...."
The introduction reads, "What I want to achieve - what I have been striving and pining to achieve these thirty years - is self-realization, to see God face to face, to attain Moksha. I live and move and have my being in pursuit of this goal."
The paper back edition of the book costs Rs. 30 being subsidized by the Navajivan Trust, Ahmedabad.
Hardly ever have I known anybody to cherish such loyalty as I did to the
British Constitution. I can see now that my love of truth was at the
root of this loyalty. It has never been possible for me to simulate
loyalty or, for that matter, any other virtue. The National Anthem
used to be sung at every meeting that I attended in Natal. I then
felt that I must also join in the singing. Not that I was
unaware of the defects in British rule, but I thought it was on
the whole acceptable. In those days I believed that British rule was
on the whole beneficial to the ruled.
The colour prejudice that I saw in South Africa was, I thought, quite contrary to British
traditions, and I believed that it was only temporary and local. I
therefore vied with Englishmen in loyalty to the throne. With
careful perseverance I learnt the tune of the National Anthem and
joined in the singing whenever it was sung. Whenever there was an
occasion for the expression of loyalty without fuss or ostentation,
I readily took part in it.
Never in my life did I exploit this loyalty, never did I seek to
gain a selfish end by its means. It was for me more in the nature of
an obligation, and I rendered it without expecting a reward.
Preparations were going on for the celebration of Queen Victoria's
Diamond Jubilee when I reached India. I was invited to join the
committee appointed for the purpose in Rajkot. I accepted the offer,
but had a suspicion that the celebrations would be largely a matter
of show. I discovered much humbug about them and was considerably
pained. I began to ask myself whether I should remain on the
committee or not, but ultimately decided to rest content with doing
my part of the business.
One of the proposals was to plant trees. I saw that many did it
merely for show and for pleasing the officials. I tried to plead
with them that tree-planting was not compulsory, but merely a
suggestion. It should be done seriously or not at all. I have an
impression that they laughed at my ideas. I remember that I was in
earnest when I planted the tree allotted to me and that I carefully
watered and tended it.
I likewise taught the National Anthem to the children of my family.
I recollect having taught it to students of the local Training
College, but I forget whether it was on the occasion of the jubilee
or of King Edward VII's coronation as Emperor of India. Later on the
text began to jar on me. As my conception of Ahimsa
went on maturing, I became more vigilant about my thought and
speech. The lines in the Anthem:
Scatter her enemies,
And make them fall;
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks.
particularly jarred upon my sentiment of Ahimsa.
I shared my feelings with Dr. Booth who agreed that it ill became a
believer in Ahimsa to sing those lines. How could we assume that the so-called
'enemies' were 'knavish'? And because they were enemies, were they
bound to be in the wrong? From God we could only ask for justice.
Dr. Booth entirely endorsed my sentiments, and composed a new anthem
for his congregation. But of Dr. Booth more later.
Like loyalty an aptitude for nursing was also deeply rooted in my
nature. I was fond of nursing people, whether friends or strangers.
Whilst busy in Rajkot with the pamphlet on South Africa, I had an
occasion to pay a flying visit to Bombay. It was my intention to
educate public opinion in cities on this question by organizing
meetings, and Bombay was the first city I chose. First of all I met
Justice Ranade, who listened to me with attention, and advised me to
meet Sir Pherozeshah Mehta. Justice Badruddin Tyabji, whom I met
next, also gave the same advice. 'Justice Ranade and I can guide you
but little,' he said. 'You know our position. We cannot take an
active part in public affairs, but our sympathies are with you. The
man who can effectively guide you is Sir Pherozeshah Mehta.'
I certainly wanted to see Sir Pherozeshah Mehta, but the fact that
these senior men advised me to act according to his advice gave me a
better idea of the immense influence that Sir Pherozeshah had on the
public. In due course I met him. I was prepared to be awed by his
presence. I had heard of the popular titles that he had earned, and
knew that I was to see the 'Lion of Bombay', the 'Uncrowned King of
the Presidency.' But the king did not overpower me. He met me as a
loving father would meet his grown up son. Our meeting took place at
his chamber. He was surrounded by a circle of friends and followers.
Amongst them were Mr. D. E. Wacha and Mr. Cama, to whom I was
introduced. I had already heard of Mr. Wacha. He was regarded as the
right-hand man of Sir Pherozeshah, and Sjt. Virchand Gandhi had
described him to me as a great statistician. Mr. Wacha said,
'Gandhi, we must meet again.'
These introductions could scarcely have taken two minutes. Sir
Pherozeshah carefully listened to me. I told him that I had seen
Justices Ranade and Tyabji. 'Gandhi,' said he, 'I see that I must
help you. I must call a public meeting here.' With this he turned to
Mr. Munshi, the secretary, and told him to fix up the date of the
meeting. The date was settled, and he bade me good-bye, asking me to
see him again on the day previous to the meeting. The interview
removed my fears, and I went home delighted.
During this stay in Bombay I called on my brother-in-law, who was
staying there and lying ill. He was not a man of means, and my
sister (his wife) was not equal to nursing him. The illness was
serious, and I offered to take him to Rajkot. He agreed, and so I
returned home with my sister and her husband. The illness was much
more prolonged than I had expected. I put my brother-in-law in my
room and remained with him night and day. I was obliged to keep
awake part of the night and had to get through some of my South
African work whilst I was nursing him. Ultimately, however, the
patient died, but it was a great consolation to me that I had had an
opportunity to nurse him during his last days.
My aptitude for nursing gradually developed into a passion, so much
so that it often led me to neglect my work, and on occasions I
engaged not only my wife but the whole household in such service.
Such service can have no meaning unless one takes pleasure in it.
When it is done for show or for fear of public opinion, it stunts
the man and crushes his spirit. Service which is rendered without
joy helps neither the servant nor the served. But all other
pleasures and possessions pale into nothingness before service which
is rendered in a spirit of joy.