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.
Towards the end of my second year in England I came across two Theosophists, brothers, and both unmarried. They talked to me about the Gita They were reading Sir Edwin Arnold's translation – The Song Celestial – and they invited me to read the original with them. I felt ashamed, as I had read the divine poem neither in Samskrit nor in Gujarati. I was constrained to tell them that I had not read the Gita, but that I would gladly read it with them, and that though my knowledge of Samskrit was meagre, still I hoped to be able to understand the original to the extent of telling where the translation failed to bring out the meaning. I began reading the Gita with them. The verses in the second chapter.
If one
Ponders on objects of the sense, there springs
Attraction; from attraction grows desire,
Desire flames to fierce passion, passion breeds
Recklessness; then the memory–all betrayed–
Lets noble purpose go, and saps the mind,
Till purpose, mind, and man are all undone
made a deep impression on my mind, and they still ring in my ears. The book
struck me as one of priceless worth. The impression has ever since
been growing on me with the result that I regard it today as the
book par excellence for the knowledge of Truth. It has afforded me invaluable help in my moments
of gloom. I have read almost all the English translations of it, and
I regard Sir Edwin Arnold's as the best. He has been faithful to the
text, and yet it does not read like a translation. Though I read the
Gita with these friends, I cannot pretend to have studied it then. It was only
after some years that it became a book of daily reading.
The brothers also recommended The Light of Asia by Sir
Edwin Arnold, whom I knew till then as the author only of
The Song Celestial and I read it with even greater interest than I did the
Bhagavadgita. Once I had begun it I could not leave off. They also took me on one
occasion to the Blavatsky Lodge and introduced me to Madame
Blavatsky and Mrs. Besant. The latter had just then joined the
Theosophical Society, and I was following with great interest the
controversy about her conversion. The friends advised me to join the
Society, but I politely declined saying, 'With my meagre knowledge
of my own religion I do not want to belong to any religious body.' I
recall having read, at the brothers' instance, Madame Blavatsky's
Key to Theosophy.
This book stimulated in me the desire to read books on Hinduism, and
disabused me of the notion fostered by the missionaries that
Hinduism was rife with superstition.
About the same time I met a good Christian from Manchester in a vegetarian
boarding house. He talked to me about Christianity. I narrated to
him my Rajkot recollections. He was pained to hear them. He said, 'I
am a vegetarian. I do not drink. Many Christians are meat-eaters and
drink, no doubt; but neither meat-eating nor drinking is enjoined by
Scripture. Do please read the Bible.' I accepted his advice, and he
got me a copy. I have a faint recollection that he himself used to
sell copies of the Bible, and I purchased from him an edition
containing maps, concordance, and other aids. I began reading it,
but I could not possibly read through the Old Testament. I read the
book of Genesis, and the chapters that followed invariably sent me
to sleep. But just for the sake of being able to say that I had read
it, I plodded through the other books with much difficulty and
without the least interest or understanding. I disliked reading the
book of Numbers.
But the New Testament produced a different impression, especially the Sermon
on the Mount which went straight to my heart. I compared it with the
Gita.The verses, 'But I say unto you, that ye resist not evil: but
whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other
also. And if any man take away thy coat let him have thy cloke too,'
delighted me beyond measure and put me in mind of Shamal Bhatt's
'For a bowl of water, give a goodly meal' etc. My young mind tried
to unify the teaching of the Gita, the Light of Asia and the
Sermon on the Mount. That renunciation was the highest form of
religion appealed to me greatly.
This reading whetted my appetite for studying the lives of other
religious teachers. A friend recommended Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship.
I read the chapter on the Hero as a prophet and learnt of the
Prophet's greatness and bravery and austere living.
Beyond this acquaintance with religion I could not go at the moment, as
reading for the examination left me scarcely any time for outside
subjects. But I took mental note of the fact that I should read more
religious books and acquaint myself with all the principal
religions.
And how could I help knowing something of atheism too? Every Indian knew Bradlaugh's name
and his so-called atheism. I read some book about it, the name of which I forget. It had no effect on me, for I had
already crossed the Sahara of atheism. Mrs. Besant, who was then very much in the limelight, had turned to theism from atheism, and
that fact also strengthened my aversion to atheism. I had read her book
How I became a Theosophist.
It was about this time that Bradlaugh died. He was buried in the Working
Cemetery. I attended the funeral, as I believe every Indian residing
in London did. A few clergymen also were present to do him the last
honours. On our way back from the funeral we had to wait at the
station for our train. A champion atheist from the crowd heckled one
of these clergymen. 'Well sir, you believe in the existence of God?'
'I do,' said the good man in a low tone.
'You also agree that the circumference of the Earth is 28,000 miles, don't
you?' said the atheist with a smile of self-assurance.
'Indeed.'
'Pray tell me then the size of your God and where he may be?'
'Well, if we but knew, He resides in the hearts of us both.'
'Now, now, don't take me to be a child,' said the champion with a
triumphant look at us.
The clergyman assumed a humble silence.
This talk still further increased my prejudice against atheism.