From Poona I went to Rajkot and Porbandar, where I had to meet my brother's widow and other relatives.
During the Satyagraha in South Africa I had altered my style of
dress so as to make it more in keeping with that of the indentured labourers, and in England also I had adhered to the same style for
indoor use. For landing in Bombay I had a Kathiawadi suit of clothes
consisting of a shirt, a dhoti, a cloak and a white scarf, all made
of Indian mill cloth. But as I was to travel third from Bombay, I
regarded the scarf and the cloak as too much of an encumbrance, so I
shed them, and invested in an eight-to-ten-annas Kashmiri cap. One
dressed in that fashion was sure to pass muster as a poor man.
On account of the plague prevailing at that time, third class
passengers were being medically inspected at Viramgam or Wadhwan –
I forget which. I had slight fever. The inspector on finding that I
had a temperature asked me to report myself to the Medical Officer
at Rajkot and noted down my name.
Someone had perhaps sent the information that I was passing through
Wadhwan, for the tailor Motilal, a noted public worker of the place,
met me at the station. He told me about the Viramgam customs, and
the hardships railway passengers had to suffer on account of it. I
had little inclination to talk because of my fever, and tried to
finish with a brief reply which took the form of a question:
'Are you prepared to go to jail?'
I had taken Motilal to be one of those impetuous youths who do not
think before speaking. But not so Motilal. He replied with firm
'We will certainly go to jail, provided you lead us. As Kathiawadis,
we have the first right on you. Of course we do not mean to detain
you now, but you must promise to halt here on your return. You will
be delighted to see the work and the spirit of our youths, and you
may trust us to respond as soon as you summon us.'
Motilal captivated me. His comrade eulogizing him, said:
'Our friend is but a tailor. But he is such a master of his
profession that he easily earns Rs. 15 a month – which is just what he
needs – working an hour a day, and gives the rest of his time to
public work. He leads us all, putting our education to shame.'
Later I came in close contact with Motilal, and I saw that there was
no exaggeration in the eulogy. He made a point of spending some days
in the then newly started Ashram every month to teach the children
tailoring and to do some of the tailoring of the Ashram himself. He
would talk to me every day of Viramgam, and the hardships of the
passengers, which had become absolutely unbearable for him. He was
cut off in the prime of youth by a sudden illness, and public life
at Wadhwan suffered without him.
On reaching Rajkot, I reported myself to the Medical officer the
next morning. I was not unknown there. The Doctor felt ashamed and
was angry with the inspector. This was unnecessary, for the
inspector had only done his duty. He did not know me, and even if he
had known me, he should not have done otherwise. The Medical Officer
would not let me go to him again insisted on sending an inspector to
Inspection of third class passengers for sanitary reasons is
essential on such occasions. If big men choose to travel third,
whatever their position in life, they must voluntarily submit
themselves to all the regulations that the poor are subject to, and
the officials ought to be impartial. My experience is that the
officials, instead of looking upon third class passengers as
fellowmen, regard them as so many sheep. They talk to them
contemptuously, and brook no reply or argument. The third class
passenger has to obey the official as though he were his servant,
and the letter may with impunity belabour and blackmail him, and
book him his ticket only after putting him to the greatest possible
inconvenience, including often missing the train. All this I have
seen with my own eyes. No reform is possible unless some of the
educated and the rich voluntarily accept the status of the poor,
travel third, refuse to enjoy the amenities denied to the poor and,
instead of taking avoidable hardships, discourtesies and injustice
as a matter of course, fight for their removal.
Wherever I went in Kathiawad I heard complaints about the Viramgam
customs hardships. I therefore decided immediately to make use of
Lord Willingdon's offer. I collected and read all the literature
available on the subject, convinced myself that the complaints were
well founded, and opened correspondence with the Bombay Government.
I called on the Private Secretary to Lord Willingdon and waited on
His Excellency also. The latter expressed his sympathy but shifted
the blame on Delhi. 'If it had been in our hands, we should have
removed the cordon long ago. You should approach the Government of
India,' said the Secretary.
I communicated with the Government of India, but got no reply beyond
an acknowledgment. It was only when I had an occasion to meet Lord
Chelmsford later that redress could be had. When I placed the facts
before him, he expressed his astonishment. He had known nothing of
the matter. He gave me a patient hearing, telephoned that very
moment for papers about Viramgam, and promised to remove the cordon
if the authorities had no explanation or defence to offer. Within a
few days of this interview I read in the papers that the Viramgam
customs cordon had been removed.
I regarded this event as the advent of Satyagraha in India. For
during my interview with the Bombay Government the Secretary had
expressed his disapproval of a reference to Satyagraha in a speech
which I had delivered in Bagasra (in Kathiawad).
'Is not this a threat?' he had asked. 'And do you think a powerful
Government will yield to threats?'
'This was no threat,' I had replied. 'It was educating the people.
It is my duty to place before the people all the legitimate remedies
for grievances. A nation that wants to come into its own ought to
know all the ways and means to freedom. Usually they include
violence as the last remedy. Satyagraha, on the other hand, is an
absolutely non-violent weapon. I regard it as my duty to explain
its practice and its limitations. I have no doubt that the British
Government is a powerful Government, but I have no doubt also that
Satyagraha is a sovereign remedy.'
The clever Secretary nodded his head and said: 'We shall see.'