XIV. MY CHOICE
Dr. Mehta went on Monday to the Victoria Hotel
expecting to find me there. He discovered that we had
left, got our new address, and met me at our rooms.
Through sheer folly I had managed to get ringworm on the
boat. For washing and bathing we used to have sea-water,
in which soap is not soluble. I, however, used soap,
taking its use to be a sign of civilization, with the
result that instead of cleaning the skin it made it
greasy. This gave me ringworm. I showed it to Dr. Mehta,
who told me to apply acetic acid. I remember how the
burning acid made me cry. Dr. Mehta inspected my room and
its appointments and shook his head in disapproval. 'This
place won't do,' he said. 'We come to England not so much
for the purpose of studies as for gaining experience of
English life and customs. And for this you need to live
with a family. But before you do so, I think you had
better serve a period of apprenticeship with -. I will
take you there.'
I gratefully accepted the suggestion and removed to
the friend's rooms. He was all kindness and attention. He
treated me as his own brother, initiated me into English
ways and manners, and accustomed me to talking the
language. My food, however, became a serious question. I
could not relish boiled vegetables cooked without salt or
condiments. The landlady was at a loss to know what to
prepare for me. We had oatmeal porridge for breakfast,
which was fairly filling, but I always starved at lunch
and dinner. The friend continually reasoned with me to
eat meat, but I always pleaded my vow and then remained
silent. Both for luncheon and dinner we had spinach and
bread and jam too. I was a good eater and had a capacious
stomach; but I was ashamed to ask for more than two or
three slices of bread, as it did not seem correct to do
so. Added to this, there was no milk either for lunch or
dinner. The friend once got disgusted with this state of
things, and said: 'Had you been my own brother, I would
have sent you packing. What is the value of a vow made
before an illiterate mother, and in ignorance of
conditions here? It is no vow at all. It would not be
regarded as a vow in law. It is pure superstition to
stick to such a promise. And I tell you this persistence
will not help you to gain anything here. You confess to
having eaten and relished met. You took it where it was
absolutely unnecessary, and will not where it is quite
essential. What a pity!'
But I was adamant.
Day in and day out the friend would argue, but I had
an eternal negative to face him with. The more he argued,
the more uncompromising I became. Daily I would pray for
God's protection and get it. Not that i had any idea of
God. It was faith that was at work-faith of which the
seed had been sown by the good nurse Rambha.
One day the friend began to read to me Bentham's Theory
of Utility. I was at my wits' end. The language was
too difficult for me to understand. He began to expound
it. I said: 'Pray excuse me. These abstruse things are
beyond me. I admit it is necessary to eat meat. But I
cannot break my vow. I cannot argue about it. I am sure I
cannot meet you in argument. But please give me up as
foolish or obstinate. I appreciate your love for me and I
know you to be my well-wisher. I also know that you are
telling me again and again about this because you feel
for me. But I am helpless. A vow is a vow. It cannot be
broken.'
The friend looked at me in surpirse. He closed the
book and said: 'All right. I will not argue any more.' I
was glad. He never discussed the subject again. But he
did not cease to worry about me. He smoked and drank, but
he never asked me to do so. In fact he asked me to remain
away from both. His one anxiety was lest I should become
very weak without meat, and thus be unable to feel at
home in England.
That is how I served my apprenticeship for a month.
The friend's house was in Richmond, and it was not
possible to go to London more than once or twice a week.
Dr. Mehta and Sjt. Dalparam Shukla therefore decided that
I should be put with some family. Sjt. Shukla hit upon an
Anglo-Indian's house in West Kensington and placed me
there. The landlady was a widow. I told her about my vow.
The old lady promised to look after me properly, and I
took up my residence in her house. Here too I practically
had to starve. I had sent for sweets and other eatables
from home, but nothing had yet come. Everything was
insipid. Every day the old lady asked me whether I liked
the food, but what could she do? I was still as shy as
ever and dared not ask for more than was put before me.
She had two daughters. They insisted on serving me with
an extra slice or two of bread. But little did they know
that nothing less than a loaf would have filled me.
But I had found my feet now. I had not yet started
upon my regular studies. I had just begun reading
newspapers, thanks to Sjt. Shukla. In India I had never
read a newspaper. But here I succeeded in cultivating a
liking for them by regular reading. I always glanced over
The Daily News, The Daily Telegraph, and The Pall
Mall Gazette. This took me hardly an hour. I
therefore began to wander about. I launched out in search
of a vegetarian restaurant. The landlady had told me that
there were such places in the city. I would trot ten or
twelve miles each day, go into a cheap restaurant and eat
my fill of bread, but would never be satisifed. During
these wanderings I once hit on a vegetarian restaurant in
Farringdon Street. The sight of it filled me with the
same joy that a child feels on getting a thing after its
own heart. Before I entered I noticed books for sale
exhibited under a glass window near the door. I saw among
them Salt's Plea for Vegetarianism. This I
purchased for a shilling and went straight to the dining
room. This was my first hearty meal since my arrival in
England. God had come to my aid.
I read Salt's book from cover to cover and was very
much impressed by it. From the date of reading this book,
I may claim to have become a vegetarian by choice. I
blessed the day on which I had taken the vow before my
mother. I had all along abstained from meat in the
interests of truth and of the vow I had taken, but had
wished at the same time that every Indian should be a
meat-eater, and had looked forward to being one myself
freely and openly some day, and to enlisting others in
the cause. The choice was now made in favour of
vegetarianism, the spread of which henceforward became my
mission.
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