History Recalled: The Enchanted Isle

By Mahadev Desai*

The journalist in Mahadev Desai always kept his eyes and ears open even while attending to Mahatma Gandhi’s rigorous work as his secretary. M.D. has given vivid description of the places he visited as Gandhiji’s companion. Here is a dispatch of  December 1, 1927 from Ceylon (now Sri Lanka):-

I wrote my last letter from Colombo, when we had just finished a few functions at the place. Beyond the beautiful harbour, which in the matter of tonnage ranks sixth in the world, with its 20 million tonnage of mercantile vessels entering and leaving the port, and beyond some of the parts of the town which remind one of parts of Mylapore and Chowringhee, I had then seen nothing of Ceylon. And in modern towns what can one expect to find but a sort of dull drab uniformity of huge piles of buildings and of a superficial culture? And Colombo, where the ‘unifying’ agent of the Western civilization has been perhaps busier than elsewhere, has the look of any other modern town. But as you go into the interior, or as the Ceylonese say ‘Upcountry,’ you begin to have the smell of Ceylon’s ‘spicy breezes’.

Also read: History Recalled: With Gandhiji in Burma

We motored along the coast north up to Chilaw and thence entered the hill districts near Karunegala, reaching Kandy, having taken numerous places on the way. It is through a magnificent road with forests of huge rubber and cinnamon trees, with tea and coffee and cocoa in between, that one reaches the beautiful city encircled by an amphitheatre of hills. But the proud Kandyan tells you, as you begin going into raptures over the scenery around you, that you have seen nothing yet.

I realized the truth of the remark when we went next day to the central district of Badulla, and from Badulla to Nuwara Eliya, and thence to Hatton and other tea plantations and back to Kandy, and then again from Kandy to Columbo. European travellers have written pages upon pages on the exquisitely lovely scenery of this natural park of the world, and have tried to describe the kaleidoscopic vision that passes before one’s eyes as one moves from scene to scene. Some of them rest content with comparing the boldness of scenery around Nuwara Eliya with that of Snowdon, whilst others find in the neighbourhood of Badulla something more charming than the Sussex downs. The whole prospect, another exclaims, is ‘more like enchantment or a dream of fairyland, than sober reality.’ The truth of the matter is that on such vast subjects as these great works of Nature, as the Countess of Oxford says, “even the superb vocabulary of a Ruskin will probably not be more illuminating than what the school boy writes in the visitor’s book at Niagara, ‘Uncle and all very much pleased.’ Better perhaps than attempting the impossible, is the attitude of those who stand in silent and prayerful awe, because they ‘cannot find utterance to express their sense of the might, majesty and glory of the Almighty’s works, and the humiliating feeling of their own littleness.’

To Gandhiji, as to Wordsworth, ‘there was not a nook within that solemn grove, but were an apt confessional,’ and he wondered why man was unable to satisfy himself with these imposing temples that Nature had reared before him, and sought to find his God in brick and mortar which he called a temple! He concluded his long speech at Badulla with this reference to the curse of drink: “As I was coming today from Kandy to this place, I passed through some of the finest bits of scenery I have ever witnessed in my life. Where Nature has been so beneficent and where Nature provides for you such innocent and ennobling intoxication, and gives you invigorating air to breathe, it is criminal for man or woman to seek intoxication from that sparkling but deadly liquor.”

Something about the People

But that brings me to the people of this enchanted isle. Out of a total population of 4.5 million people, 2.9 million are Sinhalese, and 1 million Tamilians, out of whom over half a million are working as labourers on the tea, rubber and other estates. Ceylon has before it therefore not only the problem of the harmonious relationship between the Sinhalese and the Tamilian, but also of the conditions of labour on the estates. The bulk of the population which is agricultural finds its livelihood from the paddy and coconut crops, which latter covers a million out of the total four million acres under civilization. The tea industry which has grown to stupendous proportions – 17 crores of pounds of tea being exported every year – is principally in the hands of the European planter. Rubber, of which the area planted has increased sixteen times of what it was in 1904, is another principal industry, 12 1/2 percent, of the world’s production being claimed by Ceylon. That also belongs largely to the European planter. Among minerals the graphite industry is substantial, providing employment for about 1,00,000 Sinhalese men and women. But the bulk of the labour in the Island- whether on the plantations or on the plains and roads – is drawn from Tamil Nad to India. No doubt the immigrant comes to Ceylon because he cannot make both ends meet in Tamil Nad, parts of which are subject to years of successive famines. But there is no doubt also that the Tamilian is necessarily more industrious than the Sinhales and is usually preferred by the estate managers. This disinclination to work is no doubt due to Nature’s bounties. Even Knox, the English captive, in 1681 found the Sinhalese ‘not laborious and industrious,’ incapable of utilizing the ‘plenty of cotton growing in their own grounds, sufficient to make them good and strong cloth for their own use.’

The Buddhists have still retained not only the caste system of Hinduism, but even untouchability. In spite of the first command of Lord Buddha they eat meat and even beef, in spite of the fifth command the ‘civilised’ ones think it respectable to drink liquor, and in spite of the last command they had enshrined what they regard as a genuine tooth relic of the Buddha in fine cases of gold, two of them being inlaid with rubies! In an article written some time ago Anagarika Dharmapala thus bewailed the lot of his co- religionists: ‘The flower of the land, the rising generation of Sinhalese youth, has come under the influence of Christian propagandists …. Practices which were an abomination to the ancient noble Sinhalese have today become tolerated under the influence of Semitic sociology. .. In the days of Sinhalese kings no liquor was sold, no animals were slaughtered.’ ‘Apes of the West,’ ‘more de-nationalized than any other people’ ‘strangers in their own land’ are some of the epithets that Ceylonese writers themselves have given to the present generation, English-educated men and women.

And what will one say of the Government which, though it has more than doubled its revenue during the last ten years, derives 11 millions of rupees from arrack, rum and toddy, out of a total revenue of 126 millions! So long ago as 1872 a conscientious Governor of the Island, Sir William Gregory, sounded this note of warning which is yet unheard: “English rule has given to Ceylon many blessings which the inhabitants are ever ready to acknowledge … but we have at the same time extended a curse throughout the island which weighs heavily in the other scale, namely drunkenness. Some years ago a drunken Kandyan would have been disgraced in the eyes of his fellows. Now the occurrence is so common that the disgrace has passed away… I have had some remarkable petitions on the subject. They say, ‘restrict the places of sale, and thus discourage intoxication and diminish the great moral and social evils that flow from it.’ In these recommendations I warmly concurred. In restricting the sale of intoxicating liquor, some diminution of revenue was to be expected, but, in the words of the petitioners, any decrease under that head would be more than compensated by an improvement in the general well – being of the community and in the reduced cost of establishment for the suppression of crime.” Here are words of wisdom by a Governor who know his duty, which a Government claiming to have conscience should lay to heart.

The Response

But whatever may be the fallings of the Sinhalese, he has a big heart, and wherever we have gone we have met with nothing but large-heartedness. During our tour we occasionally come across places like those in Travancore for instance, where people, however wealthy, have yet to learn to give. But the Ceylonese seems to have learnt to give. The total collections while I am writing are in the neighbourhood of 60,000 rupees, and we may easily reach about a lakh by the time we leave the Island. This Rs. 60,000 includes purses from wayside places and from places like Kandy and Bedulla, purses from students, and individual contributions. The mention of ‘students’ reminds me of the students of the Dharmraja College whose Parsi Principal collected a purse from his students for presentation to Gandhiji, and of the Zahira College – an institution for Musalman boys.

The speech of the Principal of this College, wherein he referred to Gandhiji’s services to the Muslims in South Africa, with a touching reference to Mir Alam’s murderous attack on Gandhiji, and to his services in the cause of Islam in India, was particularly felicitous and the purse of Rs. 400 quite handsome. The collections include those from the Tamil Union – gentlemen and ladies – in Colombo, as also from the Parsi Community in the city. These latter had given their contributions to the general purse, but they felt that as a community they must invite Gandhiji in their midst and offer a special purse. The brief speech that Gandhiji addressed to them was one paean of praise for the sacrifice and large-heartedness of the Parsis and a warm acknowledgement of the debt he owed to them. The presence of the Parsis always makes Gandhiji feel completely at home, and when once he starts talking to them he finds it difficult to stop.

The Backbone

But I must come to the response which I prize much more than any other, and which leaves in the mind a feeling of regret that Gandhiji could not give more of his time to the humble labourers. I referred in my previous letter to the mammoth gathering of the labourers in Colombo. During this week we saw many more such gatherings on the tea estates about Badulla, Nuwara Eliya and Hatton. What faith and yet what ignorance! I met groups of them as they were vainly trying to get a glimpse of Gandhiji above the vast sea of human heads surging before them.

‘Why have you come here?’ I asked.

A women who was angered at the absurdity of the question answered with a counter question :‘Tell me why you have come!’

Another meanwhile took up the conversation and said: ‘Don’t you know? We have come to see our god!’

‘Your god!’ I asked. ‘Do you know him?’

‘Of course, Gandhi.’

‘Have you paid anything for the purse?’

‘Certainly, a day’s wage, 45 cents.’

‘Do you know what use he is going to make of your money?’

‘No. But surely he must have some good thing in view.’

We explained to him the purpose of the Khadi collections.

‘Do you know what he advises you people?’ I said. ‘He asks you to realize the dignity of labour, to lead clean and straight lives, refuse to accept conditions which force you into unclean and immortal lives, and above all tells you that the drink habit is worse than a snake-bite, while the one kills the body the other poisons and corrupts the soul, and so he wants you to fly from the curse as you do from a hissing snake.’

But they are inattentive. We had unnecessarily distracted their attention. They had come to see Gandhiraja! And as we left them, we came across a few stragglers still showing the effects of drink, and one dancing in great glee with ‘Mahatma Gandhiji – ki jai’ on his lips!

This was at Hatton. Let not the reader, however run away with the impression that this was the care everywhere. At Badulla there was a wonderfully quiet meeting which Gandhiji addressed for upwards of three quarters of an hour, and as he appealed to those who had not yet given their mite, money poured in like rain and as gently as rain, whilst the speech was going on. It was an unforgettable scene, nearly three hundred rupees being thus collected on the spot. At Nuwara Eliya the same thing happened; over and above the purse of Rs. 4,097 the meeting collections were about Rs. 500.

And no one was more pained than Gandhiji at the thought that he could not give more time to these simple folk, see them in their homes, – squalid even in a garden of Eden like Nuwaza Eliya, – share and ‘sup’ their sorrows, and show them how to avoid diseases like hookworm, so common amongst them even on these health resorts! He would have loved to meet the planters and the Kanganis (agents), and most proposals with them for the improvement of the labourers’ lot, but it could not be. He could only leave for them the message of purity and abstinence. One can only hope and pray that it will reach them and their employers so that they may no longer allow this backbone of the Island labour to go to rack and ruin. It is their backbone as well, and they will remain straight and strong only so long as the backbone is straight and strong.

A Sacred Episode

In the numerous speeches that Gandhiji has had to make during these busy days he has never, as usual, failed to strike an informal and intimate note. One of the men at one place asked if Kasturbai was Gandhiji’s mother, and an old European lady walked along their car with the same impression. With amused joy Gandhiji said, ‘Yes, she is my mother.’ The next morning at a public meeting which she did not attend, people missed her and inquired why ‘mother’ had not come. Gandhiji said: “A gentleman did last night mistake her for my mother, and for me as for her it is not only a pardonable mistake, but a welcome mistake. For years past she had ceased to be my wife by mutual consent. Now nearly 40 years ago, I became an orphan and for nearly thirty years she has filled the place of my mother. She has been my mother, nurse, cook, bottle-washer and all these things. If in the early morning of the day she had come with me to divide the honours, I should have gone without my food, and no one would have looked after my clothing and creature comforts. So we have come to a reasonable understanding that I should have all the honours and she should have all the drudgery. I assure you that some of my co-workers will duly inform her of all the kind things you have said about her, and I hope the explanation I have given will be accepted by as sufficient excuse for her absence.

“You will forgive me for having taken up your time over a flimsy personal explanation. But if the men in front of me and especially the women will understand the serious side of the explanation and appreciate the secret of it, we shall all be the happier for it. For I have no doubt that it is not necessary for me to explain to a people inspired by the spirit of Buddha’s life, that life is not a bundle of enjoyments, but a bundle of duties. That which separates men from beast is essentially man’s recognition of the necessity of putting a series of restraints on worldly enjoyment.” And that led on to the curse of drink, which makes him burn into a flame in every one of the speeches that he had made.

But I must close. There was the meeting with the Sinhalese ladies of which I should like to take note in this connection. But space forbids it this week. The speech at the Ceylon National Congress was a weighty one, and I reproduce it elsewhere in extenso.

*Mahadev Desai was an eminent freedom fighter and Mahatma Gandhi’s personal secretary; article courtesy his grandson, Nachiketa Desai.