‘And what shall we call Moorthy?’ said Radhamma.
‘Why, the Small Mountain,’ said Rangamma, and we all said, ‘That is it,’ and so from that day we knew there were the Small Mountain and the Big Mountain to protect us.
The Ganges, sister, is born on the snows of high Kailas.
Oh, but when will it come, the call of the Big Mountain, Siva, Siva?
14
The call of the Big Mountain never came, for one morning, as we were returning from the river, Seenu comes and says the Congress committee has sent a messenger on bicycle to say the Mahatma was arrested, and we ask, ‘And when shall we begin, when?’ and he answers, ‘Next week, sister,’ and when we are back home we see Moorthy and Rangè Gowda and Rangamma and Pariah Rachanna all gathered before the temple, and Moorthy seemed to be all speech and Rangè Gowda all gestures, and we ask ourselves, ‘What are they deciding, what?’ And children gather round them, and one comes from this street, and one from that and there was quite a fair about, and when the kitchen fire is hardly lit, the temple bell goes ringing in the street, and we rush to the veranda and hear Seenu crying out, ‘The Mahatma is arrested! the Mahatma! — and next week there will be a Don’t-touch-the-Government campaign. And today everyone will fast, and the Congress panchayat will meet, and in the evening bhajan.’
And we said, ‘That is fine,’ and we poured water over our fires, and we drank a glass of curds and we dozed the whole afternoon, and every minute people could be heard hurrying about anxious and silent, and when Vasudev is passing by, Nanjamma says, ‘And the Skeffington people, are they with us?’ and Vasudev says, ‘Of course, of course, but not many.’ Then there is the sound of Moorthy speaking and of Rangè Gowda shouting, and Pariah Rachanna whispering this and Rangamma saying that, and bicycle after bicycle comes from the city, bicycle after bicycle carrying the orders to the Congress panchayat, and the Volunteers go straight to Rangamma’s veranda, and they talk to Moorthy. Then for a while there is silence, but Rangè Gowda starts again and then Rachanna and then Rangamma.
Thus it deliberated, the Congress panchayat, till the cattle came home, and when we had lit the lamps and had given a cold meal to the children, we took our baths and went to the temple, and there was Seenu in the sanctum and he would tell us nothing, and when he went up the promontory and blew the conch, people came — men, women, children — and the Pariahs and the Weavers and the Potters all seemed to feel they were of one caste, one breath. Then Moorthy came himself, straight as an aloe, strong and calm, and we say he looks as though something is passing through him, and when the camphor is lit and the flowers offered, he stands up and says, ‘Brothers and sisters, the call is come, and men, women and children will have to begin the Don’t-touch-the-Government campaign.’—’But how is that to be done, Moorthappa?’ asks Pariah Rachanna, and Moorthy, uplifted and sure, speaks in answer, ‘That’s what I am going to explain, brother Rachanna,’ and he talks of the taxes that are not to be paid, ‘even if the Government attaches the lands,’ and of the toddy booths that are to be picketed, ‘for toddy trees are Government trees, and toddy booths are there to exploit the poor and the unhappy,’ and he continues, his voice rising higher, ‘And we shall establish a parallel government, and it is this government that will rule and not that, and the first act of our government is to appoint Rangè Gowda patel again,’ and we feel our throats warm, and we look at Rangè Gowda waving away his hand saying, ‘Oh, that’s nothing, nothing!’ but Moorthy continues, ‘For the Congress is the people and the patel is the people’s man and Rangè Gowda is our man, and if the new patel comes and says, “Give me the revenue dues,” you will say, “I do not know you — you are not our man and we will offer you neither seat nor water,” but never be harsh to them nor wicked, and above all,’ he said, his voice becoming graver, ‘remember each one of you is responsible for the harm done by another, and the first time violence is done against the police or those that are not with us, we shall stop the movement and wait for six months and more in penance and in prayer that our sins may be purified. Brothers and sisters, remember we are not out to fight the white man or the white man’s slaves, the police and the revenue officials, but against the demoniac corruption that has entered their hearts, and the purer we are the greater will be our victory, for the victory we seek is the victory of the heart. Send out love where there is hatred, and a smile against brute force like unto the waters of the Himavathy that spread over boulder and sand and crematorium earth. Brothers, remember, too, I am but a pebble among the pebbles of the river, and when the floods come, rock by rock may lie buried under, and yet there are some that stand out pointed and dry, and it is they that give you a hold for your slippery, seeking feet. The police will take away one after another among us, and yet sometimes they may leave the leaders out for fear of disorder and desperation. But my time too will come. And when it comes, brothers and sisters, I ask of you, be not awed by the circumstances, but rather follow on and on, follow the one who follows me, for he is your chief, and the Congress has made him your chief. For who, sisters, but the first daughter milks the cow when the mother is ill? Obey your chief and love your enemy, that is all I ask of you.’
‘And remember always, the path we follow is the path of the spirit, and with truth and non-violence and love shall we add to the harmony of the world. For, brothers, we are not soldiers at arms, say I; we seek to be soldier saints.’ And just then Rangamma, who sat by the central pillar, unknowingly began to ring the gong, as though the curtain had fallen and the goddess beheld, and tears came to our eyes, and even our men felt there was something in the air, and they too looked unaware, and there was not a cough nor a sneeze but only the eyelashes quivered and closed, and Moorthy, in-lit and bright, says softly, ‘You are all with us?’ and we cry out, ‘All! All!’ and, ‘You shall harm no one?’—’None! None!’—’You shall go to the end fearlessly?’—’All! All!’—’And there shall be neither Brahmin nor Pariah?’ and the Pariahs shout out, ‘Mahatma Gandhi ki jai!’ and an uncontrollable emotion takes hold of us all, and Moorthy says, ‘The panchayat has decided that it shall be on Friday the seventeenth that we shall begin the fight,’ and Pandit Venkateshia says, ‘Few days could be more auspicious,’ and we say, ‘So only three days more,’ and Moorthy says, ‘Till then, pray, purify yourselves and pray,’ and we all cry out, ‘Narayan! Narayan!’ And Horn Nanjappa plays the tune of blessings and the gongs ring and the drums beat, and as the last carts are creaking round the street, music floats out of the temple, and we clap our hands and sing and our eyes are filled with tears. Why, sister, for no Harikatha have such tears flowed down our cheeks.