The Gandhis belong to the Bania caste and seem to have been originally
grocers. But for three generations, from my grandfather, they have been Prime
Ministers in several Kathiawad States. Uttamchand Gandhi, alias Ota Gandhi,
my grandfather, must have been a man of principle. State intrigues compelled
him to leave Porbandar, where he was Diwan, and to seek refuge in Junagadh.
There he saluted the Nawab with the left hand. Someone, noticing the
apparent discourtesy, asked for an explanation, which was given thus: 'The
right hand is already pledged to Porbandar.'
Ota Gandhi married a second time, having lost his first wife. He had four sons
by his first wife and two by his second wife. I do not think that in my childhood
I ever felt or knew that these sons of Ota Gandhi were not all of the same
mother. The fifth of these six brothers was Karamchand Gandhi, alias Kaba
Gandhi, and the sixth was Tulsidas Gandhi. Both these brothers were Prime
Ministers in Porbandar, one after the other. Kaba Gandhi was my father. He
was a member of the Rajasthanik Court. It is now extinct, but in those days it
was a very influential body for settling disputes between the chiefs and their
fellow clansmen. He was for some time Prime Minister in Rajkot and then in
Vankaner. He was a pensioner of the Rajkot State when he died.
Kaba Gandhi married four times in succession, having lost his wife each time by
death. He had two daughters by his first and second marriages. His last wife,
Putlibai, bore him a daughter and three sons, I being the youngest.
My father was a lover of his clan, truthful, brave and generous, but short-
tempered. To a certain extent he might have been even given to carnal
pleasures. For he married for the fourth time when he was over forty. But he
was incorruptible and had earned a name for strict impartiality in his family as
well as outside. His loyalty to the State was well known. An Assistant Political
Agent spoke insultingly of the Rajkot Thakore Saheb, his chief, and he stood up
to the insult. The Agent was angry and asked Kaba Gandhi to apologize. This herefused to do and was therefore kept under detention for a few hours. But
when the Agent saw that Kaba Gandhi was adamant, he ordered him to be
released.
My father never had any ambition to accumulate riches and left us very little
property.
He had no education, save that of experience. At best, he might be said to
have read up to the fifth Gujarati standard. Of history and geography he was
innocent. But his rich experience of practical affairs stood him in good stead in
the solution of the most intricate questions and in managing hundreds of men.
Of religious training he had very little, but he had that kind of religious culture
which frequent visits to temples and listening to religious discourses make
available to many Hindus. In his last days he began reading the Gita at the
instance of a learned Brahman friend of the family, and he used to repeat
aloud some verses every day at the time of worship.
The outstanding impression my mother has left on my memory is that of
saintliness. She was deeply religious. She would not think of taking her meals
without her daily prayers. Going to Haveli-the Vaishnava temple-was one of her
daily duties. As far as my memory can go back, I do not remember her having
ever missed the Chaturmas1
. She would take the hardest vows and keep them
without flinching. Illness was no excuse for relaxing them. I can recall her once
falling ill when she was observing the Chandrayana2 vow, but the illness was
not allowed to interrupt the observance. To keep two or three consecutive
fasts was nothing to her. Living on one meal a day during Chaturmas was a
habit with her. Not content with that, she fasted every alternate day during
one Chaturmas. During another Chaturmas she vowed not to have food without
seeing the sun. We children on those days would stand, staring at the sky,
waiting to announce the appearance of the sun to our mother. Everyone knows
that at the height of the rainy season the sun often does not condescend to
show his face. And I remember days when, at his sudden appearance, we would
rush and announce it to her. She would run out to see with her own eyes, but
by that time the fugitive sun would be gone, thus depriving her of her meal."That does not matter;" she would say cheerfully, "God did not want me to eat
today." And then she would return to her round of duties.
My mother had strong common sense. She was well informed about all matters
of State, and ladies of the court thought highly of her intelligence. Often I
would accompany her, exercising the privilege of childhood, and I still
remember many lively discussions she had with the widowed mother of the
Thakore Saheb.
Of these parents I was born at Porbandar, otherwise known as Sudamapuri, on
the 2nd October, 1869. I passed my childhood in Porbandar. I recollect having
been put to school. It was with some difficulty that I got through the
multiplication tables. The fact that I recollect nothing more of those days than
having learnt, in company with other boys, to call our teacher all kinds of
names, would strongly suggest that my intellect must have been sluggish, and
my memory raw.