April 21,1917,
Motihari Town, Bihar
India.
My dear Charlie,
It has been a while since I wrote to you, hasn’t it? I hope you are well, my best of friends, and as cheerful as ever. I, alas, am not.
Do not worry; it is not my body that is sick, but my heart. For I have seen such things that must wring the heart of the harshest souls. Perhaps it is best, then, that you were not here to see and hear all I did.
Do you remember a middle-aged farmer, who begged us a few months ago to come to his village? His name was Rajkumar Shukla. He followed us to Lucknow, then Calcutta, pleading for us to listen to his case. A week after you left, I finally accepted his plea and went with him.
I had no idea what I was in for.
The railway station — it’s the same that I have mentioned above, with the date — was filled to bursting with people. Thousands and thousands of them! The police arrived, of course, frowning and scowling about “not wanting any trouble” and I told them that I had no intention of causing any. Clearly, they didn’t believe me, but there was nothing I could do to convince them. I pushed through the crowds. We travelled to another remote village called Champaran. And it was here that the full scale of the disaster burst upon me.
The situation is terrible, Charlie.
It all began with the indigo crop. They call it neel. In years past, the British landlords made sure the farmers grew it on three out of 20 parts of their land. Now that the Great War has begun, the demand for indigo is as high as ever — but famine and drought have ruined agriculture in these areas. And yet, do you know what the worst part is? Farmers have to grow indigo crops anyway, despite great hardship to themselves. If they do not, the consequences are severe. Often the families are deprived of income, food, water and basic necessities. And still, they have to grow indigo.
You may imagine my outrage when I heard and saw all this. You also know that when it comes to injustice, my instinct is to protest. Still, I knew that I had nothing with which to challenge the massive British Empire.
I am an ordinary man. A simple lawyer. I have no great wealth, power or arms. But these are my people. This is my country. To watch India suffer is to watch my own mother suffer. How could I stand by and just watch?
I had to change this pathetic situation; bring some relief to these people. Therefore, I thought of a rather unique protest.
Civil disobedience
I will not raise a weapon. I will not advocate arms. I will not even raise my voice. If I am beaten, I will remain silent. If I am slapped on one cheek, I will show them the other. If I am bludgeoned with a stick, I shall offer no resistance. But my people shall not go to work. They shall not leave their homes, nor plough, sow, nor weed. There shall be nothing done. That is how it shall be. Where justice is not done; where truth and fairness are forgotten, where the law is ignored … there shall arise my Satyagraha.
That is what I call it. My way. Which will, if the people so will it, become a movement.
Naturally, when the British gathered a whiff of my plans, the magistrate sent an order to arrest me. They could not charge me with anything, of course, as I had disobeyed no laws and contravened no rules. The magistrate offered to release me on bail; I said I had no money.
They had no choice but to release me anyway.
I do not want to call myself a visionary, or a great soul. I’m telling you this, as you may hear those words being mentioned with my name … but I believe it is just the novelty of something new; perhaps the relief of finally seeing a solution. A light at the end of a tunnel.
I do not know if this Satyagraha will be a success. I have no way of knowing anything, really. There are those who laugh at it; who believe that it will fail spectacularly.
But I will continue anyway. For Champaran. For India.
Please write back soon. I miss our conversations.
Your brother,
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.
Historical Note: Gandhiji’s Satyagraha , or Civil Disobedience Movement saw its birth in Champaran, when he first challenged the British against the ruthlessness of landlords who forced farmers to grow indigo under desperate conditions. Shaken, the British government set up a committee to address the grievances of farmers. The Champaran Agrarian Bill was passed, and the plights of agriculturists immediately improved. In due course, Satyagraha spread like wildfire throughout the country, igniting the Freedom Movement, eventually leading to Indian Independence.
It was also during this movement that Gandhiji began to be known as Bapu , the Father, and also as Mahatma meaning Great Soul.
