CHAPTER 6. A Tragedy | An Autobiography or My Experiments with Truth by Mahatma Gandhi

6. 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 the 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 meat eater. 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 I not 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 Narmada 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 meat eating 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 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.

Read All