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.
So the ships were brought into the dock and the passengers began to go
ashore. But Mr. Escombe had sent word to the captain that, as the
whites were highly enraged against me and my life was in danger, my
family and I should be advised to land at dusk, when the port
superintendent Mr. Tatum would escort us home. The captain
communicated the message to me, and I agreed to act accordingly. But
scarcely half an hour after this, Mr. Laughton came to the captain.
He said: 'I would like to take Mr. Gandhi with me, should he have no
objection. As the legal adviser of the Agent Company I tell you that
you are not bound to carry out the message you have received from
Mr. Escombe.' After this he came to me and said somewhat to this
effect: 'If you are not afraid, I suggest that Mrs. Gandhi and the
children should drive to Mr. Rustomji's house, whilst you and I
follow them on foot. I do not at all like the idea of your entering
the city like a thief in the night. I do not think there is any fear
of anyone hurting you. Everything is quiet now. The whites have all
dispersed. But in any case I am convinced that you ought not to
enter the city stealthily.' I readily agreed. My wife and children
drove safely to Mr. Rustomji's place. With the captain's permission
I went ashore with Mr. Laughton. Mr Rustomji's house was about two
miles from the dock.
As soon as we landed, some youngsters recognized me and shouted
'Gandhi, Gandhi.' About half a dozen men rushed to the spot and
joined in the shouting. Mr. Laughton feared that the crowd might
swell and hailed a rickshaw. I had never liked the idea of being in
a rickshaw. This was to be my first experience. But the youngsters
would not let me get into it. They frightened the rickshaw boy out
of his life, and he took to his heels. As we went ahead, the crowd
continued to swell, until it became impossible to proceed further.
They first caught hold of Mr. Laughton and separated us. Then they
pelted me with stones, brickbats and rotten eggs. Someone snatched
away my turban, whilst others began to batter and kick me. I fainted
and caught hold of the front railings of a house and stood there to
get my breath. But it was impossible. They came upon me boxing and
battering. The wife of the police superintendent, who knew me,
happened to be passing by. The brave lady came up, opened her
parasol though there was no sun then, and stood between the crowd
and me. This checked the fury of the mob, as it was difficult for
them to deliver blows on me without harming Mrs. Alexander.
Meanwhile an Indian youth who witnessed the incident had run to the
police station. The police superintendent Mr. Alexander, sent a posse
of men to ring me round and escort me safely to my destination. They
arrived in time. The police station lay on our way. As we reached
there, the superintendent asked me to take refuge in the station,
but I gratefully declined the offer, 'They are sure to quiet down
when they realize their mistake,' I said. 'I have trust in their
sense of fairness.' Escorted by the police, I arrived without
further harm at Mr. Rustomji's place. I had bruises all over, but no
abrasions except in one place. Dr. Dadibarjor, the ship's doctor,
who was on the spot, rendered the best possible help.
There was quiet inside, but outside the whites surrounded the house. Night was
coming on, and the yelling crowd was shouting, 'We must have
Gandhi.' The quick-sighted police superintendent was already there
trying to keep the crowds under control, not by threats, but by humouring them.
But he was not entirely free from anxiety. He sent
me a message to this effect: 'If you would save your friend's house
and property and also your family, you should escape from the house
in disguise, as I suggest.'
Thus on one and the same day I was faced with two contradictory
positions. When danger to life had been no more than imaginary, Mr.
Laughton advised me to launch forth openly. I accepted the advice.
When the danger was quite real, another friend gave me the contrary
advice, and I accepted that too. Who can say whether I did so
because I saw that my life was in jeopardy, or because I did not
want to put my friend's life and property or the lives of my wife
and children in danger? Who can say for certain that I was right
both when I faced the crowd in the first instance bravely, as it was
said, and when I escaped from it in disguise?
It is idle to adjudicate upon the right and wrong of incidents that
have already happened. It is useful to understand them and, if
possible, to learn a lesson from them for the future. It is
difficult to say for certain how a particular man would act in a
particular set of circumstances. We can also see that judging a man
from his outward act is no more than a doubtful inference, inasmuch
as it is not based on sufficient data.
Be that as it may, the preparations for escape made me forget my
injuries. As suggested by the superintendent, I put on an Indian
constable's uniform and wore on my head a Madrasi scarf, wrapped
round a plate to serve as a helmet. Two detectives accompanied me,
one of them disguised as an Indian merchant and with his face
painted to resemble that of an Indian. I forget the disguise of the
other. We reached a neighbouring shop by a by-lane, and making our
way through the gunny bags piled in the godown, escaped by the gate
of the shop and threaded our way through the crowd to a carriage
that had been kept for me at the end of the street. In this we drove
off to the same police station where Mr. Alexander had offered me
refuge a short time before, and I thanked him and the detective
officers.
Whilst I had been thus effecting my escape, Mr. Alexander had kept
the crowd amused by singing the tune:
'Hang old Gandhi
On the sour apple tree.'
When he was informed of my safe arrival at the police
station, he thus broke the news to the crowd: 'Well, your victim had
made good his escape through a neighbouring shop. You had better go
home now.' Some of them were angry, others laughed, some refused to
believe the story.
'Well then,' said the superintendent, 'If you do not believe me, you
may appoint one or two representatives, whom I am ready to take
inside the house. If they succeed in finding out Gandhi, I will
gladly deliver him to you. But if they fail, you must disperse. I am
sure that you have no intention of destroying Mr. Rustomji's house
or of harming Mr. Gandhi's wife and children.'
The crowed sent their representatives to search the house. They soon
returned with disappointing news, and the crowd broke up at last,
most of them admiring the superintendent's tactful handling of the
situation, and a few fretting and fuming.
The late Mr. Chamberlain, who was then Secretary of State for the
Colonies, cabled asking the Natal Government to prosecute my
assailants. Mr. Escombe sent for me, expressed his regret for the
injuries I had sustained, and said: 'Believe me, I cannot feel happy
over the least little injury done to your person. You had a right to
accept Mr. Laughton's advice and to face the worst, but I am sure
that, if you had considered my suggestion, these sad
occurrences would not have happened. If you can identify the
assailants, I am prepared to arrest and prosecute them. Mr.
Chamberlain also desires me to do so.'
To which I gave the following reply:
'I do not want to prosecute anyone. It is possible that I may
be able to identify one or two of them, but what is the use of
getting them punished? Besides, I do not hold the assailants to
blame. They were given to understand that I had made exaggerated
statements in India about the whites in Natal and calumniated them.
If they believed these reports, it is no wonder that they were
enraged. The leaders and, if you will permit me to say so, you are
to blame. You could have guided the people properly, but you also
believed Reuter and assumed that I must have indulged in
exaggeration. I do not want to bring anyone to book. I am sure that,
when the truth becomes known, they will be sorry for their conduct.'
'Would you mind giving me this in writing?' said Mr. Escombe.
'Because I shall have to cable to Mr. Chamberlain to that effect. I
do not want you to make any statement in haste. You may, if you
like, consult Mr. Laughton and your other friends, before you come
to a final decision. I may confess, however, that, if you waive the
right of bringing your assailants to book, you will considerably
help me in restoring quiet, besides enhancing your own reputation.'
'Thank you,' said I. 'I need not consult anyone. I had made my
decision in the matter before I came to you. It is my conviction
that I should not prosecute the assailants, and I am prepared this
moment to reduce my decision to writing.'
With this I gave him the necessary statement.