Thus day by day the trial grew more and more severe for the Indians. Government became more and more violent in proportion to the strength put forth by the commu¬ nity. There are always special prisons where dangerous prisoners or prisoners whom Government wants to bend are kept, and so there were in the Transvaal. One of these was the Diepkloof Convict Prison, where there was a harsh jailer, and where the labour exacted from prisoners was also hard. And yet there were Indians who success¬ fully performed their allotted task. But though they were prepared to work, they would not put up with the insult offered to them by the jailer and therefore went on hunger strike. They solemnly declared that they would take no food until either the jailer was removed from the prison* or else they themselves were transferred to another prison. This was a perfectly legitimate strike. The strikers were quite honest and not likely to take food secretly. The reader must remember that there was not much room in the Trans¬ vaal for such public agitation as a case of this nature would evoke in India. Again jail regulations in the Transvaal were particularly drastic. Outsiders did not seek interviews with prisoners even on occasions of this nature. A Satyagrahi, when once he found himself in jail, had generally to shift for himself. The struggle was on behalf of the poor and was conducted as a poor men’s movement. And there¬ fore the vow which these strikers took was fraught with great risk. However, they were firm and succeeded in getting themselves transferred to another prison after a seven days’ fast. As hunger strikes were a rarity in those days, these Satyagrahis are entitled to special credit as pioneers (November, 1910).
CHAPTER XXXII CHAPTER XXXII Thus the Satyagrahis were being imprisoned or de¬ ported. There was sometimes a lull and then a storm, but both the parties had somewhat weakened. The Gov¬ ernment saw that they could not hope to subdue the Satyagrahi stalwarts by sending them to jail, and the policy of deportations had only put themselves in a false position. The Government also lost some cases which were taken to the courts. The Indians on their part were not in a position to put up a strong fight. There was not a sufficient number of Satyagrahis for the purpose. Some Indians were war-weary, while others had become entirely defeatist and therefore looked upon the staunch Satyagrahis as so many fools. The Tools’ however knew themselves to be wise and had full faith in God, in their cause and in the righteousness of the means they had selected to promote it. They were confident that great is Truth and it shall prevail in the end.
Meanwhile, there was continuous movement in South African politics. The Boers and the British were anxious to secure a higher status by effecting a union of the vari¬ ous Colonies in the sub-continent. General Hertzog stood for a total breach of the British connection while others preferred to keep up a nominal association with the Bri¬ tish Empire. Englishmen would never agree to a total secession, and any higher status in view could only be attained through the British Parliament. The Boers and the British in South Africa therefore decided that a depu¬ tation should visit England on their behalf and present their case before the British Cabinet.
The Indians observed that in case of a union of the Colonies their last state would be worse than their first. All the Colonies were ever desirous of suppressing the Indians, and it was clear in view of their anti-Indian ten¬ dency that it would go very hard with the community when they came closer together. In order that not a single avenue might remain unexplored, the Indians resolved to send once again a deputation to England, although there was every likelihood of their small voice being drowned in the loud roar of British and Boer lions. On this occasion Sheth Haji Habib, a Memon gentleman from Porbandar, was appointed as my colleague on the deputation. The Sheth carried on a long established trade in the Trans¬ vaal and was a man of wide experience. He had not rece¬ ived English education, yet he easily understood English, Dutch, Zulu and other languages. His sympathies were with the Satyagrahis but he could not be described as a full Satyagrahi himself. Mr Merriman the famous veteran statesman of South Africa was our fellow passenger on board S.S. Kenilworth Castle. which took us to England, /leaving Cape Town on June 23, 1909. He was going with a view to the unification of the Colonies. General Smuts and others were already in England. A separate deputa¬ tion of the Indians in Natal also visited England about this time in connection with their special grievances.
At this time Lord Crewe was Secretary of State for the Colonies and Lord Morley Secretary of State for India. There were many discussions, and we interviewed a large number of people. There was hardly a journalist or mem¬ ber of either House whom it was possible to meet but whom we did not meet. Lord Ampthill rendered us in¬ valuable help. He used to meet Mr Merriman, General Botha and others and at last he brought a message from the General. Said he: ‘General Botha appreciates your feelings in the matter, and is willing to grant you minor demands. But he is not ready to repeal the Asiatic Act or to amend the Immigrants Restriction Act. He also refu¬ ses to remove the colour bar which has been set up in the law of the land. To maintain the racial bar is a matter of principle with the General and even if he felt like doing away with it the South African Europeans would never listen to him. General Smuts is of the same mind as General Botha, and this is their final decision and final offer. If you ask for more you will only be inviting trouble for your¬ self as well as for your people. Therefore whatever you do, do it after giving due consideration to this attitude of the Boer leaders. General Botha has asked me to tell you this and give you an idea of your responsibility.5 And after delivering the message Lord Ampthill said, 4 You see that General Botha concedes all your practical demands, and in this work-a-day world we must always give and take. We cannot have everything that we desire. I would therefore strongly advice you to close with this offer. If you wish to fight for principle’s sake, you may do so later on. You and the Sheth think over this, and let me have your reply at your convenience.5 Upon hearing this I looked to Sheth Haji Habib, who said, ‘Tell him from me that I accept General Botha’s offer on behalf of the conciliation party. If he makes these concessions, we will be satisfied for the present and later on struggle for principle. I do not like the community to suffer any more. The party I represent constitutes the majority of the community, and it also holds the major portion of the community’s wealth.’
I translated the Sheth’s sentences word by word, and then on behalf of the Satyagrahis I said: ‘We are both highly obliged to you for the trouble you have taken. My colleague is right when he says that he represents a nume¬ rically and financially stronger section. The Indians for whom I speak are comparatively poor and inferior in numbers, but they are resolute unto death. They are fighting not only for practical relief but for principle as well. If they must give up either of the two, they will jettison the former and fight for the latter. We have an idea of General Botha’s might, but we attach still greater weight to our pledge, and therefore we are ready to face the worst in the act of abiding by it. We will be patient in the confidence that if we stick to our solemn resolution, God in Whose name we have made it will see to its ful¬ filment.
T can grasp your position fully. You have done much for us. We will not take it ill if you now withhold your support from a handful of Satyagrahis. Nor will we forget the debt of gratitude under which you have laid us. But we trust that you will excuse us for our inability to accept your advice. You may certainly tell General Botha how the Sheth and myself have received his offer and inform him that the Satyagrahis though in a minority will ob¬ serve their pledge and hope in the end to soften his heart by their self-suffering and to induce him to repeal the Asiatic Act.’
Lord Ampthill replied: ‘You must not suppose that I will give you up. I too must play the gentleman’s part. Englishmen are not will¬ ing at once to relinquish any task they have undertaken. Yours is a righteous struggle, and you are fighting with clean weapons. How possibly can I give you up? But you can realize my delicate position. The suffering, if any, must be borne by you alone, and therefore it is my duty to advise you to accept any settlement possible in the circumstances. But if you, who have to suffer, are prepared to undergo any amount of suffering for principle’s sake, I must not only not come in your way but even congratulate you. I will therefore continue as President of your Committee and help you to the best of my ability. But you must remeber that I am but a junior member of the House of Lords, and do not command much influence. However, you may rest assured that what little influence I possess will be continually exerted on your behalf.5 We were both pleased to hear these words of encourage¬ ment.
One delightful feature of this interview has perhaps not escaped the reader. As I have already observed Sheth Haji Habib and myself held divergent views, and yet there was such friendship and mutual confidence between us, that the Sheth did not hesitate to communicate his differ¬ ence of opinion through me. He relied upon me to present his case to Lord Ampthill all right.
I will close this chapter with a not quite relevant para¬ graph. During my stay in England I had occasion to talk with many Indian anarchists. My booklet Indian Home Rule written during my return voyage to South Africa on board S.S. Kildonan Castle (November 1909) and pub¬ lished soon afterwards in Indian Opinion had its birth from the necessity of having to meet their arguments as well as to solve the difficulties of Indians in South Africa who held similar views. I had also -discussed the main points of the book with Lord Ampthill in order that he might not feel for one moment that I had misused his name and his help for my work in South Africa by sup¬ pressing my views. This discussion with Lord Ampthill has always remained imprinted on my memory. He found time to meet me in spite of illness in his family, and al¬ though he did not agree with my views as expressed in Hind Swaraj, he accorded his support to our struggle till the last, and my relations with him were always cordial.
V / e r oV/ CHAPTER XXXIII t TOLSTOY FARM— I The deputation which now returned from England did not bring good news. But I did not mind what conclu¬ sions the community would draw from our conversations with Lord Ampthill. I knew who would stand by us till the end. My ideas about Satyagraha had now matured and I had realized its universality as well as its excellence. I was therefore perfectly at ease. Hind Swaraj was written in order to demonstrate the sublimity of Satyagraha and that book is a true measure of my faith in its efficacy. I was perfectly indifferent to the numerical strength of the fighters on our side.
But I was not free from anxiety on the score of finance, j It was indeed hard to prosecute a long protracted struggle without funds. I did not realize then as clearly as I do now that a struggle can be carried on without funds, that money very often spoils a righteous fight and that GodTnever gives a Satyagrahi or mumukshu* anything beyond his strict needs. But I had faith in God who did not even then desert me t)ut raised me from the slough of despondency. If on the one hand I had to tell the Indians on our landing in South Africa that our mission had failed, on the other hand God relieved me from the financial difficulty. As I set my foot in Cape Town I received a cable from England that Mr (afterwards Sir) Ratanji Jamshedji Tata had given Rs. 25,000 to the Satyagraha funds. This sum amply sufficed for our immediate needs and we forged ahead.
But this or even the largest possible gift of money could not by itself help forward a Satyagraha struggle, a fight on behalf of Truth consisting chiefly in self-purificartion and self-reliance. A Satyagraha struggle is impossible without capital in the shape of character. As a splendid palace deserted by its inmates looks like a ruin, so does a man without character, all his material belongings not¬ withstanding. The Satyagrahis now saw that no one could ♦Pilgrim bound for the eternal city. V. G. D.
/e q p^Jr^/s/o % TOLSTOY FARM - 1 tell how long the struggle would last. On the one hand there were the Boer Generals determined not to yield even an inch of ground and on the other there was a handful of Satyagrahis pledged to fight unto death or victory. It was like a war between ants and the elephant who could crush thousands of them under each of his feet. The Satya¬ grahis could not impose a time limit upon their Satyagraha. Whether it lasted one year or many, it was all the same to them. For them the struggle itself was victory. Fighting meant imprisonment or deportation for them. But what about their families in the meanwhile? No one would engage as an employee a man who was constantly going to jail and when he was released, how was he to maintain himself as well as those dependent on him? Where was he to lodge and where was his house rent to come from? Even a Satyagrahi may be excused if he feels troubled at heart from want of his daily bread. There cannot be many in the world who would fight -the good fight in spite of being compelled to condemn their nearest and dearest to the same starvation which they suffered in their own person.
Till now the families of jail-going Satyagrahis were maintained by a system of monthly allowances in cash according to their need. It would not have done to grant an equal sum to all. A Satyagrahi who had a family of five persons dependent upon him could not be placed on a par with another who was a brahmachari without any family responsibilities. Nor was it possible to recruit only brahmacharis for our ‘army.’ The principle generally obser¬ ved was, that each family was asked to name the minimum amount adequate to their needs and was paid accordingly on trust. There was considerable room hejre^jbr fraud, of which some rogues might not fail to take advantage. Others who were honest Tut who were accustomed to live in a particular style naturally expected such help " as would enable them to keep it up. I saw that at this rate the move¬ ment could not be conducted for any length of time. There was always the risk of injustice being done to the deserving, and undue advantage being taken by the unscrupulous. There was only one solution for this difficulty, namely, that all the families should be kept at one place and should hi 5 hi 5 become members of a sort of co-operative commonwealth. Thus there would be no scope for fraud, nor would there be injustice to any. Public funds would be largely saved and the families of Satyagrahis would be trained to live a new and simple life in harmony with one another. Indians belonging to various provinces and professing divers faiths would have an opportunity of living together.
But where was the place suitable for a settlement of this nature? To live in a city would have been like straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel. The house rent alone would perhaps amount to the same sum as the food bill, and it would not be easy to live a simple life amidst the varied distractions of a city. Again in a city it would be impossible to find a place where many families could prose¬ cute some useful industry in their own homes. It was there¬ fore clear that the place selected should be neither too far from nor too near a city. There was of course Phoenix, where Indian Opinion was being printed and where there was also some cultivation being carried on. Phoenix was also convenient in many other ways, but it was three hundred miles away from Johannesburg and to be reach¬ ed by a journey of thirty hours. It was therefore difficult and expensive to take the families such a distance and bring them back again. Besides, the families would not be ready to leave their homes for such a far off place, and even if they were ready it seemed impossible to send them as well as the Satyagrahi prisoners on their release.
The place required then must be in the Transvaal and near Johannesburg. Mr Kallenbach, whose acquain¬ tance the reader has already made, bought a farm of about 1, 1 00 acres and gave the use of it to Satyagrahis free of any rent or charge (May 30, 1910). Upon the farm there were nearly one thousand fruit-bearing trees and a small house at the foot of a hill with accommodation for half-adozen persons. Water was supplied from two wells as well as from a spring. The nearest railway station, Lawley, was about a mile from the farm and Johannesburg was twenty-one miles distant. We decided to build houses upon this Farm and to invite the families of Satyagrahis to settle there.
CHAPTER XXXIV TOLSTOY FARM— II Upon the Farm oranges, apricots and plums grew in such abundance that during the season the Satyagrahis could have their fill of the fruit and yet have a surplus.
The spring was about 500 yards away from our quar¬ ters, and the water had to be fetched on carrying poles.
Here we insisted that we should not have any servants either for the household work or as far as might be even for the farming and building operations. Everything there¬ fore from cooking to scavenging was done with our own hands. As regards accommodation for families, we resolved from the first that the men and women should be housed separately. The houses therefore were to be built in two separate blocks, each at some distance from the other. For the time it was considered sufficient to provide accom¬ modation for ten women and sixty men. Then again we had to erect a house for Air Kallenbach and by its side a school house, as well as a workshop for carpentry, shoemak¬ ing etc.
The settlers hailed from Gujarat, Tamilnad, Andhradesh and North India, and there were Hinus, Musalmans, Parsis and Christians among them. About forty of them were young men, two or three old men, five women and twenty to thirty children of whom four or five were girls.
The Christian and other women were meat-eaters. Mr Kallenbach and I thought it desirable to exclude meat from the Farm. But how could we ask people, who had no scruples in the matter, who had been habituated to taking meat since childhood and who were coming over here in their days of adversity, to give up meat even temporarily? But if they were given meat, would not that swell our cost of living? Again should those who were accustomed to take beef be given that too? How many separate kitchens must be run in that case? What was my duty on this point? Having been instrumental in giving monetary help to these families, I had already given my support to meat-eat¬ ing as well as beef-eating. If I made a rule that meat-eaters should not be helped, I would have to prosecute the Satyagraha struggle through vegetarians only, which was absurd as the movement had been organized on behalf of all classes of Indians. I did not take long clearly to visualize my duty in these circumstances. If the Christians and Musalmans asked even for beef, that too must be provided for them. To refuse them admission to the Farm was absolutely out of the question.
But where love is, there God is also. The Musalman friends had already granted me permission to have a purely vegetarian kitchen. I had now to approach Chris¬ tian sisters whose husbands or sons were in jail. I had often come in such intimate contact with the Christian friends who were now in jail and who had on similar occasions consented to having a vegtarian dietary. But this was the f first time that I had to deal at close quarters with their ~ families in their absence. I represented to the sisters the rf>^difficultv of housing accommodation as wellas of finance and my own deep-rooted"”sentiment in the matter. At the same time I assured them that even beef would be provided for them if they wanted it. The sisters kindly ft ' ’ consented not to have meat, and the cooking department b&fafw* placed irPtheif~cEarge. I with or without another man was detailed to assist them. My presence acted as a check upon petty bickerings. The food was to be the simplest possible. The time as well as the number of meals was fixed. There was to be one single kitchen, and all were to dine in a single row. Every one was to see to the cleaning of his own dish and other things. The common pots were to be cleaned by different parties in turn. I must state that Satyagrahis lived on Tolstoy Farm for a long time, but neither the women nor the men ever asked for meat. Drink, smoking etc. were of course totally prohibited.
As I have already stated, we wanted to be self-reliant as far as possible even in erecting buildings. Our architect was Mr Kallenbach of course, and he got hold of a Euro¬ pean mason. A Gujarati carpenter, Narayandas Damania, volunteered his services free of charge and brought other TOLSTOY FARM - II carpenters to work at reduced rates. As regards unskilled labour, the settlers worked with their own hands. Some of us who had supple limbs literally worked wonders. A fine Satyagrahi of the name of Vihari did half of the car¬ penter’s work. The lion-like Thambi Naidoo was in charge of sanitation and marketing for which he had to go to Johannesburg.
One of the settlers was Pragji Khandubhai Desai who had never been accustomed to discomfort all his life, but who had here to put up with bitter cold, a hot sun and sharp rains. In the beginning we lived in tents for about two months while the buildings were under construction. The structures were all of corrugated iron and therefore did not take long to raise. The timber too could be had ready made in all sizes required. All we had to do was to cut it to measure. There were not many doors or windows to be prepared. Hence it was that quite a number of build¬ ings could be erected within such a short space of time. But all this labour was a heavy tax on Pragji’s physical constitution. The work on the Farm was certainly harder than in jail. One day Pragji actually fainted thanks to fatigue and heat. But he was not the man to give in. He fully trained up his body here, and in the end he stood abreast as a good worker with the best of us.
Then there was Joseph Royeppen, a barrister free from barrister’s pride. He could not undertake very hard work. It was difficult for him to take down loads from the railway train and to haul them on the cart, but he did it as best he could.
The weak became strong on Tolstoy Farm and labour proved to be a tonic for all.
Every one had to go to Johannesburg on some errand or other. Children liked to go there just for the fun of it. I also had to go there on business. We therefore made a rule that we could go there by rail only on the public busi¬ ness of our little commonwealth, and then too travel third class. Any one who wanted to go on a pleasure trip must go on foot, and carry home-made provisions with him. No one might spend anything on his food in the city. Had it not been for these drastic rules, the money saved by living in a rural locality would have been wasted in railway fares and city picnics. The provisions carried were of the simplest: home-baked bread made from coarse wheat flour ground at home, from which the bran was not removed, groundnut butter also prepared at home, and home-made marmalade. We had purchased an iron handmill for grinding wheat. Groundnut butter was made by |J routing and then grinding groundnuts, and was four times cheaper than ordinary butter. As for the oranges, we had plenty of them on the Farm. We scarcely used cow’s milk on the Farm and generally managed with condensed milk.
But to return to the trips. Any one who wished to go to Johannesburg went there on foot once or twice a week and returned the same day. As I have already stated, it was a journey of 21 miles and back. We saved hundreds of rupees by this one rule of going on foot, and those who thus went walking were much benefited. Some newly acquired the habit of walking. The general practice was that the sojour¬ ner should rise at two o’clock and start at half past two. Fie would reach Johannesburg in six to seven hours. The record for the minimum time taken on the journey was 4 hours 18 minutes.
The reader must not imagine that this discipline operat¬ ed upon the settlers at all as a hardship. On the other hand it was accepted cheerfully. It would have been impossible to have a single settler if force had been employed. The youngsters thoroughly enjoyed the work on the Farm and the errands to the city. It was difficult to prevent them from playing their pranks while engaged in work. No more work was given to them than what they willingly and cheerfully rendered, and I never found that the work thus done was unsatisfactory either in quantity or in quality.
A paragraph may be devoted to our sanitary arrange¬ ments. In spite of the large number of settlers, one could not find refuse or dirt anywhere on the Farm. All rubbish was buried in trenches sunk for the purpose. No water was permitted to be thrown on the roads. All waste water was collected in buckets and used to water the trees. Leav¬ ings of food and vegetable refuse were utilized as manure. A square pit one foot and a half deep was sunk near the TOLSTOY FARM - II TOLSTOY FARM - II house to receive the nightsoil, which was fully covered with the excavated earth and which therefore did not give out any smell. There were no flies, and no one would imagine that nightsoil had been buried there. We were thus not only spared a nuisance, but the source of possible nuisance was converted into invaluable manure for the Farm. If nightsoil was properly utilized, we would get manure worth lakhs of rupees and also secure immunity from a number of diseases. By our bad habits we spoil our sacred river banks and furnish excellent breeding grounds for flies with the result that the very flies which through our criminal negligence settle upon uncovered nightsoil defile our bodies after we have bathed. A small spade is the means of salvation from a great nuisance. Leaving nightsoil, cleaning the nose or spitting on the road is a sin against God as well as humanity, and betrays a sad want of consider¬ ation for others. The man who does not cover his waste deserves a heavy penalty even if he lives in a forest.
The work before us was to make the Farm a busy hive of industry, thus to save money and in the end to make the families self-supporting. If we achieved this goal, we could battle with the Transvaal Government for an indefinite period. We had to spend some money on shoes. The use of shoes in a hot climate is harmful, as all the perspiration is absorbed by the feet which thus grow tender. No socks were needed in the Transvaal as in India, but we thought that the feet must be protected against thorns, stones and the like. We therefore determined to learn to make sandals. There is at Mariannhill near Pinetown a monastery of German Catholic monks called the Trappists, where industries of this nature are carried on. Mr Kullenbach went there and acquired the art of making sandals. After he returned, he taught it to me and I in my turn to other workers. Thus several young men learnt how to manufacture sandals, and we commenced selling them to friends. I need scarcely say that many of my pupils easily surpassed me in the art. Another handi¬ craft introduced was that of carpentry. Having founded a sort of village we needed all manner of things large and small from benches to boxes, and we made them all ourselves. The selfless carpenters already referred to helped us for several months. Mr Kallenbach was the head of the carpentry department, and as such every moment gave us the evidence of his mastery and exactitude.
A school was indispensable for the youngsters and the children. This was the most difficult of our tasks and we never achieved complete success in this matter till the very last. The burden of teaching work was largely borne by Mr Kallenbach and myself. The school could be held only after noon, when both of us were thoroughly exhaus¬ ted by our morning labour, and so were our pupils. The teachers therefore would often be dozing as well as the taught. We would sprinkle water on the eyes, and by play¬ ing with the children try to pull them up and to pull up ourselves, but sometimes in vain. The body peremptorily demanded rest and would not take a denial. But this was only one and the least of our many difficulties. For the classes were conducted in spite of these dozings. What were we to teach pupils who spoke three languages, Gujara¬ ti, Tamil or Telugu, and how? I was anxious to make these languages the medium of instructions. I knew a little Tamil but no Telugu. What could one teacher do in these circum¬ stances? I tried to use some of the young men as teachers, but the experiment was not altogether a success. Pragji’s services were of course requisitioned. Some of the young¬ sters were very mischievous and lazy and were always on bad terms with their books. A teacher could not expect to make much headway with such pupils. Again we could not be regular in our teaching. Business sometimes took Mr Kallenbach as well as me to Johannesburg.
Religious teaching presented another tough problem. I would like Musalmans to read the Koran, and Parsis the Avesta. There was one Khoja child, whose father had laid upon me the responsibility of teaching him a small pothi of that sect. I collected books bearing on Islam and Zor¬ oastrianism. I wrote out the fundamental doctrines of Hindu¬ ism according to my lights, — I forget now whether it was for my own children or for the Tolstoy Farmers. If this document was now in my possession, I should have inserted it here as a landmark in my spiritual progress. But I have TOLSTOY FARM — III thrown away or burnt many such things in my life. I desstroyed such papers as I felt it was not necessary to preserve them or as the scope of my activities was extended. I am not sorry for this, as to have preserved all of them would have been burdensome and expensive. I should have been compelled to keep cabinets and boxes, which would have been an eyesore to one who has taken the vow of poverty.
But this teaching experiment was not fruitless. The children were saved from the infection of intolerance, and learnt to view one another’s religions and customs with a large-hearted charity. They learnt how to live together like blood-brothers. They imbibed the lessons of mutual service, courtesy and industry. And from what little I know about the later activities of some of the children on Tolstoy Farm, I am certain that the education which they received there has not been in vain. Even if imperfect, it was a thoughtful and religious experiment, and among the sweet¬ est reminiscences of Tolstoy Farm, the reminiscences of this teaching experiment are no less sweet than the rest.
But another chapter must be devoted to these remini¬ scences.
CHAPTER XXXV TOLSTOY FARM— III In this chapter I propose to string together a number of Tolstoy Farm reminiscences which are rather disjointed and for which therefore I must crave the reader’s indul¬ gence.
A teacher hardly ever had to teach the kind of hetero¬ geneous class that fell to my lot, containing as it did pupils of all ages and both the sexes, from boys and girls of about 7 years of age to young men of twenty and young girls 12 or 13 years old. Some of the boys were wild and mischie¬ vous.
What was I to teach this ill-assorted group? How was I to be all things to all pupils? Again in what language should I talk to all of them? The Tamil and Telugu child¬ ren knew their own mother-tongue or English and a little