Rudrangshu Mukherjee traces the trajectory of two great Indians who emerged at the beginning of the 20th century, unrivalled public intellectuals who differed with each other but debated without acrimony
BY DR SANJEEV CHOPRA
The Poet (Tagore) and the Plowman (Gandhi) were born in the same decade—in the 1860s—and received global recognition for their poetry and politics by the first decade of the 20th century and had no real peers in their chosen domains. Both were prolific writers, both wanted India to break free from the shackles of British imperialism, both were strong advocates of writing in their own mother tongues—even as they were quite comfortable in English—and it is difficult to conceptualise their conversation in Bangla and Gujarati. They respected each other’s ideas and viewpoints but differed in their approach. While the poet cherished his freedom and his creative muse, the plowman preferred routine and discipline; while the poet gave the call to walk alone, the plowman insisted on mobilising the masses.
In his fascinating account of their interface with each other, Tagore and Gandhi: Walking Alone, Walking Together, historian Rudrangshu Mukherjee shares with readers the trajectory of their evolution as India’s foremost public intellectuals who thought about, and commented on, everything that concerned public life in the India of their times. Rabindranath had little formal education: he grew up in a family which was not just affluent, but also endowed with tremendous cultural capital, and he had good exposure to both the Eastern and Western schools of philosophical thought. The beauty of nature—whether it was the tall, majestic mountains of the Himalayas or the silence of the moonlit night
from his boat in Selaidah—made him, first and foremost, a poet of nature. In his youth, he was also seized of nationalistic fervour as well as the issue of stark inequality in his own estates, and these themes also found expression in his poems, lyrics, novels and novellas, short stories, and essays. In 1905, Tagore sang Bengal into a nation with the “Amar Sonar Bangla” decision.
After a not so remarkable schooling in Kathiawar, Gandhi proceeded to London in 1888, where he passed matriculation, qualified as a barrister, became a committed vegetarian and found a lifelong friend and financial anchor in Pranjivan Mehta, through whom he also met Raychandbhai (Jain), whose teachings made a lasting impact on him. Gandhi’s moment came when he accepted a brief from Dada Abdullah and Company, a commercial firm of Memon Muslims of Porbandar, to defend their lawsuit in South Africa in 1893. By the close of the 19th century, he had become, in the words of Ramachandra Guha, “the most important and influential Indian in Natal. Gujaratis and Tamils, Parsis and Christians, Hindus, and Muslims—all looked to him for legal and political advice. To merchant and labourer alike, he was ‘Gandhi Bhai’, a term used with affection and respect”.
Meanwhile, the poet was evolving his ideas of swadeshi—which was for him much more than the voluntary act of rejecting salt from Liverpool and cloth from Manchester: it was the mental slavery that accompanied the adoption of a foreign custom that riled him. However, he was extremely critical of any attempt to achieve swadeshi by coercion, clearly reflected in the conversation between Bimala and Nikhilesh (the protagonist) in his novel, Ghare Baire, published in 1915. Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj, published in 1909, too articulates swadeshi, but the focus is equally on swaraj (self-rule) and satyagraha or ‘truth-based peaceful resistance’. While Gandhi accepted the common understanding of the term swaraj as political independence, he added another dimension to it: it was ‘swa-raj’ or self-rule, with its focus on the village as the basic constituent unit of political and social life. In this, the poet and the plowman agreed that building a new India would have to begin at the level
of the village, and that swaraj would be vacuous unless people had the power to rule their own lives.
Their friendly disagreements started with their first encounters. When students from the Phoenix Ashram arrived at Santiniketan, the differences in their approach became obvious. While Tagore had his reservations on the uncritical discipline and obedience of the Phoenix boys, Gandhi’s students were shocked by the separate lines in the dining room for Brahmans and the rest. They were also keen that students should learn to cook, clean, and manage their own kitchen, but for Tagore Santiniketan was a school of learning, not ‘enforced discipline’.
Mukherjee then discusses their response to the Jallianwala Bagh massacre. While Tagore was appalled, disturbed and distraught and wanted to travel to Punjab with the Mahatma immediately, the latter was reticent. Presumably, he wanted to make an empirical assessment of facts on the ground, or perhaps he was thinking and planning a pan-India protest which required adequate training and preparation. They disagreed more vehemently on Gandhi’s tactical move to create Hindu-Muslim unity by linking the Khilafat and the Non-Co—operation movements. Their last major ‘public’ disagreement was when an earthquake of unprecedented intensity struck Bihar on January 15, 1934. Gandhi wrote, “We who have faith in God must cherish the belief that behind this indescribable calamity there is a divine purpose that works for the good of humanity. The earthquake is a divine chastisement for the great sin we have committed and are still committing against those whom we call
untouchables.” The poet was quick to react: “If this be your real view on the matter, I do not think it should go unchallenged.” Incidentally,
on this issue even Gandhi’s protégé, Nehru, was compelled to disagree with his mentor.
Why were their ideological dispositions and temperaments so different? To Mukherjee, this could be because of the different texts of the Indic philosophical tradition which they followed. While Rabindranath was drawn to the Svetavastra Upanishad, Gandhi drew his inspiration from the Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 3, verses 8-16). Tagore invoked the Being, “who alone, himself without colour, wielding his Power creates variously countless colours” and furnishes us with “lucid intelligence”. Gandhi’s choice was no less spiritual but was driven by Karma Yoga “work (which) is more important than idleness: the body’s life proceeds not, lacking work /There is a task of Holiness to do /unlike world – binding toil”.
However, even as they disagreed with each other on significant issues, they debated without acrimony. In fact, it was a wonderful exemplar and legacy of public reasoning: and this is the tradition of discourse that India needs to celebrate. Like Mukherjee, I end this review with these beautiful lines from Milton’s Paradise Lost:
… sing with the mortal voice, unchanged
… though fallen on evil days,
On evil days, though fallen and evil tongues.
In darkness, and with dangers compast round,
And solitude … yet not alone…”
The author is a historian, public policy analyst, and Festival Director at the Valley of Words, Dehradun. Until recently, he was the Director of the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration, Mussoorie.
@alephbookco @drsanjeevchopra @RudrangshuMukherjee
