XX. IN BENARES
The journey was from Calcutta to Rajkot, and I planned
to halt at Benares, Agra, Jaipur and Palanpur en
route. I had not the time to see any more places
than these. In each city I stayed one day and put up in dharmashalas
or with pandas like the ordinary pilgrims,
excepting at Palanpur. So far as I can remember, I did
not spend more than Rs. 31 (including the train fare) on
this journey.
In travelling third class I mostly preferred the
ordinary to the mail trains, as I knew that the latter
were more crowded and the fares in them higher.
The third class compartments are practically as dirty,
and the closet arrangements as bad, today as they were
then, There may be a little improvement now, but the
difference between the facilities provided for the first
and the third classes is out of all proportion to the
difference between the fares for the two classes. Third
class passengers are treated like sheep and their
comforts are sheep's comforts. In Europe I travelled
third and only once first, just to see what it was like
but there I noticed no such difference between the first
and the third classes. In South Africa class comforts are
better there than here. In parts of South Africa third
class compartments are provided with sleeping
accommodation and cushioned seats. The accommodation is
also regulated, so as to prevent overcrowding, whereas
here I have found the regulation limit usually exceeded.
The indifference of the railway authorities to the
comforts of the third class passengers, combined with the
dirty and inconsiderate habits of the passengers
themselves, makes third class travelling a trial for a
passenger of cleanly ways. These unpleasant habits
commonly include throwing of rubbish on the floor of the
compartment, smoking at all hours and in all places,
betel and tobacco chewing, converting of the whole
carriage into a spittoon, shouting and yelling, and using
foul language, regardless of the convenience or comfort
of fellow passengers. I have noticed little difference
between my experience of the third class travelling in
1902 and that of my unbroken third class tours from 1915
to 1919.
I can think of only one remedy for this awful state of
things that educated men should make a point of
travelling third class and reforming the habits of the
people, as also of never letting the railway authorities
rest in peace, sending in complaints wherever necessary,
never resorting to bribes or any unlawful means for
obtaining their own comforts, and never putting up with
infringements of rules on the part of anyone concerned.
This, I am sure, would bring about considerable
improvement.
My serious illness in 1918-19 has unfortunately
compelled me practically to give up third class
travelling, and it has been a matter of constant pain and
shame to me, especially because the disability came at a
time when the agitation for the removal of the hardships
of third class passengers was making fair headway. The
hardship of poor railway and steamship passengers,
accentuated by their bad habits, the undue facilities
allowed by Government to foreign trade, and such other
things, make an important group of subjects, worthy to be
taken up by one or two enterprising and persevering
workers who could devote their full time to it.
But I shall leave the third class passengers at that,
and come to my experience in Benares. I arrived there in
the morning. I had decided to put up with a panda.
Numerous Brahmans surrounded me, as soon as I got out of
the train, and I selected one who struck me to be
comparatively cleaner and better than the rest. It proved
to be a good choice. There was a cow in the courtyard of
his house and an upper storey where I was given a
lodging. I did not want to have any food without ablution
in the Ganges in the proper orthodox manner. The panda
made preparations for it. I had told him beforehand that
on no account could I give him more than a rupee and four
annas as dakshina, and that he should therefore
keep this in mind while making the preparations.
The panda readily assented. 'Be the pilgrim
rich or poor,' said he, 'the service is the same in every
case. But the amount of dakshina we receive
depends upon the will and the ability of the pilgrim.' I
did not find that the panda at all abridged the
usual formalities in my case. The puja was over
at twelve o'clock, and I went to the Kashi Vishvanath
temple for darshan. I was deeply pained by what
I saw there. When practising as a barrister in Bombay in
1891. I had occasion to attend a lecture in 'pilgrimage
to Kashi' in the Prarthana Samaj hall. I was therefore
prepared for some measure of disappointment. But the
actual disappointment was greater than I had bargained
for.
The approach was through a narrow and slippery lane.
Quiet there was none. The swarming flies and the noise
made by the shopkeepers and pilgrims were perfectly
in-sufferable.
Where one expected an atmosphere of meditation and
communion it was conspicuous by its absence. One had to
seek that atmosphere in oneself. I did observe devout
sisters, who were absorbed in meditation, entirely
unconscious of the environment. But for this the
authorities of the temple could scarcely claim any
credit. The authorities should be responsible for
creating and maintaining about the temple a pure sweet
and serene atmosphere, physical as well as moral. Instead
of this I found a bazar where cunning
shopkeepers were selling sweets and toys of the latest
fashion.
When I reached the temple. I was greeted at the
entrance by a stinking mass of rotten flowers. The floor
was paved with fine marble, which was however broken by
some devotee innocent of aesthetic taste who had set it
with rupees serving as an excellent receptacle for dirt.
I went near the Janana-vapi (well of
knowledge). I searched here for God but failed to find
Him. I was not therefore in a particularly good mood. The
surroundings of the Jnana-vapi too I found to be
dirty. I had no mind to give any dakshina. So I
offered a pie. The panda in charge got angry and
threw away the pie. He swore at me and said, 'This insult
will take you straight to hell.'
This did not perturb me. 'Maharaj,' said I, 'whatever
fate has in store for me, it does not behove one of your
class to indulge in such language. You may take this pie
if you like, or you will lose that too.'
'Go away,' he replied, 'I don't care for your pie.'
And then followed a further volley of abuse.
I took up the pie and went my way, flattering myself
that the Brahman had lost a pie and I had saved one. But
the Maharaj was hardly the man to let the pie go. He
called me back and said, 'All right, leave the pie here,
I would rather not be as you are. If I refuse your pie,
it will be bad for you.'
I silently gave him the pie and, with a sigh, went
away.
Since then I have twice been to Kashi Vishvanath, but
that has been after I had already been afflicted with the
title of Mahatma and experiences such as I have
detailed above had become impossible. People eager to
have my darshan would not permit me to have a darshan
of the temple. The woes of Mahatmas are known to
Mahatmas alone. Otherwise the dirt and the noise
were the same as before.
If anyone doubts the infinite mercy of God, let him
have a look at these sacred places. How much hypocrisy
and irreligion does the Prince of Yogis suffer to be
perpetrated in His holy name? He proclaimed long ago:
'Whatever a man sows, that shall he reap.' The law of
Karma is inexorable and impossible of evasion. There is
thus hardly any need for God to interfere. He laid down
the law and, as it were, retired.
After this visit to the temple, I waited upon Mrs.
Besant. I knew that she had just recovered from an
illness. I sent in my name. She came at once. As I wished
only to pay my respects to her, I said, 'I am aware that
you are in delicate health. I only wanted to pay my
respects. I am thankful that you have been good enough to
receive me in spite of your indifferent health. I will
not detain you any longer.'
So saying, I took leave of her.
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