From Rajkot, I proceeded to Shantiniketan. The teachers and students overwhelmed me with affection. The reception was a beautiful combination of simplicity, art and love. It was here I met Kakasaheb Kalelkar for the first time. I did not know then why Kalelkar was called ‘Kakasaheb’. But I learnt later on that Sjt. Keshavrao Deshpande, who was a contemporary and a close friend of mine in England, and who had conducted a school in the Baroda State called ‘Ganganath Vidyalaya’, had given the teachers family names to invest the Vidyalaya with a family atmosphere. Sjt. Kalelkar who was a teacher there came to be called, ‘Kaka’ (lit. paternal uncle). Phadke was called ‘Mama’ (lit. maternal uncle), and Harihar Sharma received the name ‘Anna’ (lit. brother). Others also got similar names. Anandanand (Swami) as Kaka’s friend and Patwardhan (Appa) as Mama’s friend later joined the family, and all in course of time became my co-workers one after another. Sjt. Deshpande himself used to be called ‘Saheb’. When the Vidyalaya had to be dissolved, the family also broke up, but they never gave up their spiritual relationship or their assumed names. Kakasaheb went out to gain experience of different institutions, and at the time I went to Shantiniketan, he happened to be there. Chintaman Shastri, belonging to the same fraternity, was there also. Both helped in teaching Samskrit. The Phoenix family had been assigned separate quarters at Shantiniketan. Maganlal Gandhi was at their head, and he had made it his business to see that all the rules of the Phoenix Ashram should be scrupulously observed. I saw that, by dint, his fragrance felt in the whole of Shantiniketan. Andrews was there, and also Pearson. Amongst the Bengali teachers with whom we came in fairly close contact were Jagadanandbabu, Nepalbabu, Santoshbabu, Kshitimohanbabu, Nagenbabu, Sharadbabu and Kalibabu. As is my won’t, I quickly mixed with the teachers and students and engaged them in a discussion on self-help. I put it to the teachers that, if they and the boys dispensed with the services of paid cooks and cooked their food themselves, it would enable the teachers to control the kitchen from the point of view of the boy’s physical and moral health, and it would afford to the students an object-lesson in self-help. One or two of them were inclined to shake their heads. Some of them strongly approved of the proposal. The boys welcomed it, if only because of their instinctive taste for novelty. So we launched the experiment. When I invited the Poet to express his opinion, he said that he did not mind it provided the teachers were favourable. To the boys, he said, ‘The experiment contains the key to Swaraj.’ Pearson began to wear away his body in making the experiment a success. He threw himself into it with zest. A batch was formed to cut vegetables, another to clean the grain, and so on. Nagenbabu and others undertook to see the sanitary cleaning of the kitchen and its surroundings. It was a delight to me to see them working spade in hand. But it was too much to expect the hundred and twenty-five boys with their teachers to take to this work of physical labour like ducks to water. There used to be a daily discussion. Some began early to show fatigue. But Pearson was not the man to be tired. One would always find him with his smiling face doing something or other in or about the kitchen. He had taken upon himself the cleaning of the bigger utensils. A party of students played on their sitar before this cleaning party to the tedium of the operation. All alike took the thing up with zest and Shantiniketan became a busy hive. Changes like these when once begun always develop. Not only was the Phoenix party’s kitchen self-conducted, but the food cooked in it was of the simplest. Condiments were eschewed. Rice, dal, vegetables and even wheat flour were all cooked at the same time in a kitchen to introduce reform in the Bengali kitchen. One or two teachers and some students ran this kitchen. The experiment was, however, dropped after some time. I am opinion that the famous institution lost nothing by having experimented a brief interval, and some of the experiences gained could not but be of help to the teachers. I had intended to stay at Shantiniketan for some time but fate willed otherwise. I had hardly been there a week when I received from Poona a telegram announcing Gokhale’s death. Shantiniketan was immersed in grief. All the members came over to me to express their condolences. A special meeting was called in the Ashram temple to mourn the national loss. It was a solemn function. The same day I left for Poona with my wife and Maganlal. All the rest stayed at Shantiniketan. Andrews accompanied me up to Burdwan. ‘Do you think,’ he asked me, ‘that a time will come for Satyagraha in India? And if so, have you any idea when it will come?’ ‘It is difficult to say,’ said I. ‘For one year I am to do nothing. For Gokhale took from me a promise that I should travel to India for gaining experience, and express no opinion on public questions until I have finished the period of probation. Even after the year is over, I will be in no hurry to speak and pronounce opinions. And so I do not suppose there will be an occasion for Satyagraha for five years or so.’ I may note in this connection that Gokhale used to laugh at some of my ideas in Hind Swaraj or Indian Home Rule and say: ‘After you have stayed a year in India, your views will correct themselves.’ ~ SHANTINIKETAN


Life is like a bunch of roses. Some sparkle like raindrops. Some fade when there's no sun. Some just fade away in time. Some dance in many colors. Some drop with hanging wings. Some make you fall in love. The beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Life you can be sure of, you will not get out ALIVE.(sorry about that)

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