Chapter 16-

HE CALL of the Big Mountain never came, for one THE 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 Range 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 Don't-touch-the-Govern- ment 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 pasing 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 Range Gowda shouting, and Pariah Rachanna whisper- ing this and Rangamma saying that, and bicycle after bicycle comes from the city, bicycle after bicycle carry- ing 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 con- tinues, 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 Govern- ment 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 Range 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 re- sponsible 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 god- dess 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.

Two days later, our sari fringes tied tight to our waists, our jewels hid deep beneath the earth, with men on the right and children beside us, with drum and horn and trumpet and a cart before us all adorned with lotuses and champaks and mango twigs, in which are seated Moorthy and Rangamma and Rangè Gowda and even Pariah Rachanna, we march on and on, and when we come to the village gate Seenu sounds the conch from the top of the Promontory, and Vasudev, with his twenty-three pariahs from the Skeffington Coffee Estate, breaks a coconut before us, and when the camphor is rising before the God, we all bow down in trembling prayer, and when the conch blows again we rise, and with the horn shouting and shining over the ripe valley, we turn round Bhatta's empty house and we hurry down to Boranna's toddy grove.

We were a hundred and thirty-nine in all, and we marched out to Boranna's toddy grove. And men came from Tippur and Subbur and Kanthur, kumkum on their foreheads and flowers in their hair, to see us pass by, and chrysanthemums fell on us, and rice and Bengal gram, and thus we marched out, a hundred and thirty-nine in all, to Boranna's toddy grove, our hearts round and ripe like an April pomegranate. And Puttanna made a song, and we beat our feet and we sang, At least a toddy-pot, sister, At least a toddy-leaf, sister, We'll go to Boranna's Toddy grove, We'll go to Boranna's Toddy growth, And procession back at least a toddy-leaf, sister, and we marched on to Boranna's toddy grove.

And when we were hardly at the Main Road Corner, we saw beyond the mango grove the red horse of the Police Inspector, and our hands began to shiver, and we held our breath beneath our breasts, and we said not a word to one another, and then when Moorthy had seen it too, he got down out of the cart, and Rangè Gowda followed him and Rangamma and Pariah Rachanna, and the cart stopped and we crossed beside it with Moorthy before us, and as we neared the toddy grove we began to see by the lantana fence policemen after policemen, their lathis tight in their hands, and the Police Inspector going among them and bending down and whispering to this one and that, and the horse wagging its tail and brushing away the summer flies.

And when we were by the Tippur stream bridge, the Police Inspector comes towards us and says, 'You are forbidden to march to the toddy grove,' and Moorthy smiles back and says he knows that but he thanks him all the same for saying so, but that he is following the instructions of the Congress and he would follow unto death if need be. And the Police Inspector says, 'I warn you for a third time, and I say that what you do is against law, and the Government is ready to use all the force it possesses to put you down,' and Moorthy says again 'Thank you' and he moves on; and just as we are near the toddy grove, the morning carts of Santur turn round the Kenchamma Hill Corner, and when they see us and the crowd behind us, they stop and come down to see what is all this procession and Police about, and we say, 'Well, there will be some more people with us'. We begin to count our beads and say Ram-Ram, and the nearer we approach the stiffer become the policemen, and as Moorthy and Rangè Gowda try to push open the gate of the grove, the police stand before them and push them back, and Pariah Rachanna cries out, 'Say Mahatma Gandhi ki jai!' and we all cry out too, 'Mahatma Gandhi ki jai!' and we say we too shall enter the toddy grove.

But the men were before us and the children huddled between us, and the Police surrounded our men and tried to push them back, and suddenly Pariah Rachanna slipped out and ran and we all turned to see where he was going when he jumped across the lantana fence with one leap he had crossed the ditch and the lantana fence-and he fell and he rose, and as he rushed to climb a toddy tree the police made towards him, but he was already half-way up the tree when the lathis banged against his legs. And the cart men, who had gathered round us, began to shout, and we cried out 'Vande Mataram!' and somebody began to clap hands and push forward, and we all clapped hands too and began to sing, and the Police began to push us this way and that, when Pariah Rachanna was torn down from the toddy tree, our hearts began to beat so fast that we cried out 'Hoye-Hoye!' and we pushed forward with the men. And the Police Inspector this time shouted out 'Attack!', and they lifted the lathis and bang-bang they brought them down on us, and the lathis caught our hair and rebounded from our backs, and Pariah Ningamma beat her mouth and wailed, 'Oh, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone,' and we say to ourselves' Oh! how unauspicious!' and we shout out Mataram Vande! with all our breath, and the children are so frightened now that they take it up and shout and shout and shout, and the Police break through us and, one here and one there, they catch the children by the hair and by the ear and by the jacket, and the mothers sob behind them and the cart men cry out Shame, shame,' and the lathis still shower down upon us. Then suddenly there is a cry, and we raise our heads and see the red horse of the Police Inspector charging upon the cart men, and the cart men spit and howl and rush for their lives to the mango grove, and there is another cry, and somebody says Pariah Lingayya has jumped over the fence, too, and the Police leave us and rush at him and more and more men jump over and they tear down the lantana fence. And the Police Inspector gallops across the road and brings down Chandrayya and Ramayya with the knob of his cane, and they roll over and fall into the ditch, and we say, 'Now, Rangamma, we'll go forward,' and just then, as though in answer, Moorthy shrieks out across the fence, Mahatma Gandhi ki jai!' and we see his lips split and four policemen around him, and somehow our eyes turn all to the Kenchamma Hill and as we say 'goddess, goddess' we see the scattered crowd of children rushing here, rushing there, and mothers, aunts, sisters, grandmothers rushing behind them. And Rangamma cries out, 'Now, sisters, forward!' and we all cry out, Mahatma Gandhi ki jai! Mahatma Gandhi ki jai!' and we deafen our- selves before the onslaught, and we rush and we crawl, and swaying and bending and crouching and rising, we move on and on, and the lathis rain on us, and the cart men have come back again and they feel so angry that they, too, cry out Mahatma Gandhi ki jai!' and they, too, rush behind us, and we feel a new force in us and we say we shall enter the toddy grove and tear out at least a toddy branch and break at least a toddy-pot. And there are shrieks and shouts and cries and sobs, and the more we are beaten the more we get used to it and we say, 'After all it is not bad -after all it is not so bad,' and our bangles break and our saris tear and yet we huddle and move on. Then once again Rangamma shouts Gandhi Mahatma ki jai!' and we all rush forward and the crowd rushes behind us and the gate creaks and breaks and we all rush towards the trees, one to this and one to that, to saplings and twisted trees and arched trees and ant- hills crumble beneath our feet, and the leaves tear and crunch, and the lathis break on our backs and hands and heads. And stones are thrown at the tree-trunks and pots break and spatter down and someone cries out Mahatma Gandhi ki jai!' and we rise with it, and we see up there on the top of the toddy tree is someone, and he is cutting down branch after branch of the toddy tree and men after men gather them like sanctified flowers and women slip in here and crouch along there, and policeman after policeman tries to climb the tree, and one falls and everybody laughs, and another goes up proudly and he slips down again, and the Police Inspector says, 'Moti Khan, you'd better try,' and as he is trying to go up the other policemen fall on us again, and we rush to this side and that, while somebody pulls down Moti Khan and the man on the top spits down on him, and a wave of laughter whirls up the toddy grove. But we never saw what came of it, for one by one they took us to the road, and there we stood huddled together between policemen, and we said the work of the day is done, and wives searched for their husbands and mothers for their sons, and brother searched for brother and sister-in-law for sister-in-law. And when the calm had flowed back to our hearts, we touched our bones and our knuckles and our joints, feeling the wounds fresh as burns, and when we saw all the people gathered to see us, there was something in us that said, 'You've done something big,' and we felt as though we had walked the holy fire at the Harvest Festival, and, policeman on the right and policeman on the left, we marched down to the Santur Police Outpost.

There they took only Pariah Rachanna and Lingayya and Potter Siddayya, and when we all thought, 'Now we are free-we can go,' they drove us into lorries, one lorry, two lorries, three lorries, men in one and young women in another and old women in another again, and they took each in a different direction, and when the night fell, they left us on the Beda Ghats and others on the Karwar Road and yet others again on the Blue Mountain Road, and when we were on the highway we all began to tremble and we said, 'Oh, we are in the middle of the jungle!' and our knees shook and our hair stood on end, and the whole forest seemed to rise up a wall of a thousand voices, and the road hissed this way and that, and tongued over a rill, and shot up the mountains to the seven-hooded skies and all the serpent-eyes of the sky looked down bright and bitter upon us and at last it was Rangamma who said, 'Don't be afraid, sisters. Tell me, how many are you?' And we huddled together in the middle of the road and said 'We are twenty-two in all' and Ran- gamma said, 'Form a line,' and we formed a line, and she said, 'Now march, singing,' and we said, 'Let us sing loud so that the panthers and the porcupines may be frightened away,' and we sang, 'Wheresoever we look you are there, my Lord!'

And we sing it louder and louder and we march fast and fearful until we are wet with perspiration and we forget the wounds on the thigh or the bruises on the face or the ache in the bones. And at last, when we had gone God knows how long, there on the top of the hill we see the dangling light of a cart, and the dust seems dust and the hand seems a hand and the trees, oh, nothing but trees, and after all we are not afraid, are we?-and the nearer comes the cart the louder we sing, and when it is in front of us Rangamma cries out, 'From what town, brother?'-'Why, from Racha- pura,' says he, and then he gets down, and the bulls ring their bells and yawn. And Rangamma tells him we are women and Satyagrahis and we are hungry, and he says he had heard about us in Kanthapura and that the Police are still there, and Nose-scratching Nanjamma can bear no more and she says, 'We are hungry, Rangamma-we have not had a meal since morning'; and Rangamma says to the cart man, 'Perhaps you've something to eat?' and he says, 'Why, I've copra,' and Nanjamma says, 'Anything. Any- thing,' and he lets down the yoke and he opens a sack and he gives us copra, one copra cach, and Rangamma says, Are there no more carts coming behind you?' and he says, 'Yes, there are,' And can you not take us to Kanthapura? We shall pay you two rupces a cart,' and he says, We shall see when the other carts come'. And we seat ourselves in the middle of the road, and now we can hear the jackals wail and the twitching trill of the jungle insects, and now and again the bulls shake their heads and the clanging of bells goes tearing down the mountain path and trailing up to the sturdy heights, and then the creak of the carts is heard, and carts after carts come down the hill and the cart men say, 'All right, we'll take you to Kanthapura,' and we say 'How much?' and they say, Ask the waters of the Himavathy!' and we say, 'No, no!' and one of them says, 'Hè, sisters, I've been to the city, to the big city, to Bombay, and I have been a weaver there, and I have seen the Red- man and the man that fights the Red-man, the Mahatma, and I say, "If we touch but the dirt of a coin, we'll be born in a million hells ". What do you say to that, brothers?' And the cart men say, 'As you like, Timmayya?', but he spits on them and calls them sluts and says, 'The Mahatma is born once and not twice, and if ye be such hang-lip hagglers, I'll go up and come down once, twice, thrice, a hundred times, taking these sisters to Kanthapura,' and they all turn their carts, and they say, 'You are a funny fellow-but you say there's a Mahatma, and maybe his ire will be upon us'. And they say 'Hoye-Hoye' and we climb into the carts, and hardly in, head against head and arm against arm, we lean over one another, and we doze and doze and snore and snore, and we groan up the hills and we grind down them, and when we have passed over a rattling river bridge, there's the familiar noise of dogs barking and doors creaking, and people are heard washing their hands after dinner, and Ran- gamma says, 'Stop the carts, brother,' and we wake up and get down, for we are in Santhapura and Rangamma's cousin Subbayya is land-holder there, and he says to the cart men, You can go now, I'll take them home,' and they get a coconut and betel-leaf good-bye. And we all sit in the hall, and Subbayya's wife,

Satamma, says, 'Oh, take only this much milk, aunt! -Oh, only this banana, aunt!-Just this handful of puffed rice!', and we are so tired that we say 'Yes, yes'. And people come from the Potters' quarter and the Weavers' quarter and say, 'We came to give you welcome. So it's you who fought the Police!', and an old woman comes to the door and says, 'Learned sir, I hear there are some pilgrims come, and I have a new calved cow, and I can offer fresh milk to the pilgrims,' and this way and that, milk and syrup and puffed rice and coconuts are offered and we tell them each our story and they say, 'Oh, poor mother-oh, poor mother,' and we get courageous and say, 'But that is what we should do to drive the British out!' Then, when we get up to go, lanterns after lanterns are seen in the courtyard, and everybody says, 'We shall follow you up to Kanthapura. One never knows these days. Why, only this morning we found elephant dung at the Temple Corner.' And they gave us new carts, and beadles walked in front of us, lanterns in their hands, and before them walked Iron-shop Imam Khan, gun in hand and fire in his eyes, and our carts clattered and creaked through the dense, droning night, by the Gold-mine Hill and Siva's Gorge and up the Menu Crag and down again to the valleys of the Himavathy, where lies Kanthapura curled like a child on its mother's lap. And when the carts had waded through the still, purring waters of the river and the bulls crunched over the sands of the other bank, we said, 'Here we are,' and mother and wife and widow- god-mother went up to their lighted, lizard-clucking homes. And when the wounds were washed and the bandages tied, we lay upon our beds, and it seemed as though the whole air was filled with some pouring presence, and high up, from somewhere over the Skeffington Coffee Estate and the Kenchamma Hill and the Himavathy, night opened its eyes to let gods peep through the tiles of Kanthapura. Sister, when Rama- krishnayya and Satamma returned from their pilgrim- age, what did they say? They said, in Kashi, when the night fell, gods seemed to rise from the caverns of the Ganges, to rise sheer over the river, each one with his consort, and each one with his bull or peacock or flower throne, and peep into the hearts of pilgrim men. May our hearts be touched by their light! May Ken- chamma protect us!

The next morning, with bell and camphor and trumpet wc planted our trophies before the temple. Five twigs of toddy trees were there, and a toddy-pot. Venkamma of course said, 'Look, look, a toddy god have they made of a Moon-crowned god,' and she spat on us and called us the toddy people. Yes, yes, sister, we are toddy people! But we don't marry our daughters to gap-toothed sons-in-law. Nor like Bhatta do we go on Kashi-pilgrimage with toddy contract money. Do we?