I have already referred to the attack of pleurisy I had in England.
Gokhale returned to London soon after. Kallenbach and I used regularly to go to him. Our talks were mostly about the war, and as Kallenbach had the geography of Germany at his fingertips, and had travelled much in Europe, he used to show him on the map the various places in connection with the war. When I got pleurisy this also became a topic of daily discussion.
My dietetic experiments were going on even then. My diet consisted, among other things, of groundnuts, ripe and unripe bananas, lemon, olive oil, tomatoes and grapes. I completely eschewed milk, cereals, pulses and other things. Dr Jivraj Mehta treated me. He pressed me hard to resume milk and cereals, but I was obdurate. The matter reached Gokhale’s ears.
He had not much regard for my reasoning in favour of a fruitarian diet, and he wanted me to take whatever the doctor prescribed for my health. It was no easy thing for me not a yield to Gokhale’s pressure. When he would not take a refusal, I begged him to give me twenty-four hours for thinking over the question.
As Kallenbach and I returned home that evening, we discussed where my duty lay. He had been with me in my experiment. He liked it, but I saw that he was agreeable to my giving it up if my health demanded it.
So I had to decide for myself according to the dictates of the inner voice. I spent the whole night thinking over the matter. To give up the experiment would mean renouncing all my ideas in that direction, and yet I found no flaw in them. The question was how far I should yield to Gokhale’s loving pressure, and how far I might modify my experiment in the so-called interests of health.
I finally decided to adhere to the experiment in so far as the motive behind was chiefly religious, and to yield to the doctor’s advice where the motive was mixed. Religious considerations had been predominant in the giving up of milk.
I had before me a picture of the wicked processes the goals in Calcutta adopted to extract the last drop of milk from their cows and buffaloes. I also had the feeling that, just as the meat was not man’s food, even so, animal’s milk could not be man’s food.
So I got up in the morning with the determination to adhere to my resolve to abstain from milk. This greatly relieved me. I dreaded to approach Gokhale, but I trusted him to respect my decision. In the evening Kallenbach and I called on Gokhale at the National Liberal Club. The first question he asked me was: ‘Well, have you decided to accept the doctor’s advice?’ I gently but firmly replied: ‘I am willing to yield on all points except the one about which I beg you not to press me. I will not take milk, milk products or meat.
If not to take these things should mean my death, I feel I had better face it.’ ‘Is this your final decision?’ asked Gokhale. ‘I am afraid I cannot decide otherwise,’ said I. ‘I know that my decision will pain you, but I beg your forgiveness.’ With a certain amount of pain but with deep affection, Gokhale said: ‘I do not approve of your decision. I do not see any religion in it. But I won’t press you anymore.’ With these words, he turned to Dr Jivraj Mehta and said: ‘Please don’t worry him anymore.
Prescribe anything you like within the limit he has set for himself.’ The doctor expressed dissent but was helpless. He advised me to take mung soup., with a dash of asafoetida in it. To this, I agreed. I took it for a day or two, but it increased my pain. As I did not find it suitable, I went back to fruits and nuts.
The doctor of course went on with his external treatment. The latter somewhat relieved my pain, but my restrictions were to him a sore handicap. Meanwhile, Gokhale left for home, as he could not stand the October fogs of London. ~ GOKHALE’S CHARITY