Vol. 12 · pages 696–700

675WAITING FOR A VISA The inn on the first floor had a small bed-room and adjoining it was one small bath room with a water tap in it. The rest was one big hall. At the time of my stay the big hall was filled up with all sorts of rubbish, planks, benches, broken chairs, etc. In the midst of the surroundings I lived a single solitary individual. The caretaker came up in the morning with a cup of tea. He came again at about 9.30 with my breakfast or morning meal. A third time he came up at about 8.30 in the evening with my dinner. The caretaker came up only when he could not avoid it and on these occasions he never stayed to talk to me. The day was spent somehow. I was appointed a probationer in the Accountant General’s Office by the Maharaja of Baroda. I used to leave the inn at about 10 a.m. for the office and return late at about 8 in the evening contriving to while away outside the inn as much time in company of friends as I could. The idea of returning to the inn to spend the night therein was most terrifying to me and I used to return to the inn only because I had no other place under the sky to go for rest. In this big hall on the first floor of the inn there were no fellow human beings to talk to. I was quite alone. The whole hall was enveloped in complete darkness. There were no electric lights nor even oil lamps to relieve the darkness. The caretaker used to bring up for my use a small hurricane lamp. Its light could not extend beyond a few inches. I felt that I was in a dungeon and I longed for the company of some human being to talk to. But there was none. In the absence of the company of human beings I sought the company of books and read and read. Absorbed in reading I forgot my lonely condition. But the chirping and flying about of the bats, which had made the hall their home, often distracted my mind and sent cold shivers through me reminding me of what I was endeavouring to forget, that I was in a strange place under strange conditions. Many a time I must have been angry. But I subdued my grief and my anger by the feeling that though it was a dungeon, it was a shelter and that some shelter was better than no shelter. So heart-rending was my condition that when my sister’s son came from Bombay bringing my remaining luggage which I had left behind and when he saw my

676 DR. BABASAHEB AMBEDKAR : WRITINGS AND SPEECHES state, began to cry so loudly that I had to send him back immediately. In this state I lived in the Parsi inn impersonating a Parsi. I knew that I could not long continue this impersonation as I would be discovered some day. I was therefore trying to get a State bungalow to stay in. But the Prime Minister did not look upon my request with the same urgency. My petition went from officer to officer and before I got the final reply the day of my doom arrived. It was 11th day of my stay in the inn. I had taken my morning meal and had dressed up and was about to step out of my room to go to office. As I was picking up some books which I had borrowed overnight for returning them to the library I heard footsteps of a considerable number of people coming up the staircase. I thought they were tourists who had come to stay and was therefore looking out to see who these friends were. Instantly I saw a dozen angry looking, tall, sturdy Parsis, each armed with a stick, coming towards my room. I realised that they were not fellow tourists and they gave proof of it immediately. They lined up in front of my room and fired a volley of questions. “Who are you ? Why did you come here ? How dare you take a parsi name ? You scoundrel! You have polluted the Parsi inn ! “I stood silent. I could give no answer. I could not persist in impersonation. It was in fact a fraud and the fraud was discovered, and I am sure if I had persisted in the game I was playing I would have been assaulted by the mob of angry and fanatic Parsis and probably doomed to death. My meekness and my silence averted this doom. One of them asked when I thought of vacating. At that time my shelter I prized more than my life. The threat implied in this question was a grave one. I therefore broke my silence and implored them to let me stay for a week at least, thinking that my application to the Minister for a bungalow would be decided upon favourably in the meantime. But the Parsis were in no mood to listen. They issued an ultimatum. They must not find me in the inn in the evening. I must pack off. They held out dire consequences and left. I was bewildered. My heart sank within me. I cursed all and wept bitterly. After all I was deprived of my precious possession—namely my shelter. It was no better than a prisoners’s cell. But it was to me very precious.

677WAITING FOR A VISA After the Parsis were gone I sat for some time engaged in thinking to find a way out. I had hopes that I would soon get a State bungalow and my troubles would be over. My problem was therefore a temporary problem and I thought that going to friends would be a good solution. I had no friends among the untouchables of Baroda State. But I had friends among other classes. One was a Hindu, the other was an Indian Christian. I first went to my Hindu friend and told him what had befallen me. He was a noble soul and a great personal friend of mine. He was sad and also indignant. He, however, let fall one observation. He said, “If you come to my home my servants will go”. I took the hint and did not press him to accommodate me. I did not like to go to the Indian Christian friend. Once he had invited me to go and stay with him. But I had declined preferring to stay in the Parsi inn. My reason was that his habits were not congenial to me. To go now would be to invite a rebuff. So I went to my office but I could not really give up this chance of finding a shelter. On consulting a friend I decided to go to him and ask him if he would accommodate me. When I put the question his reply was that his wife was coming to Baroda the next day and that he would have to consult her. I learnt subsequently that it was a very diplomatic answer. He and his wife came originally from a family which was Brahmin by caste and although on conversion to Christianity the husband had become liberal in thought, the wife had remained orthodox in her ways and would not have consented to harbour an untouchable in her house. The last ray of hope thus flickered away. It was 4 p.m. when I left the house of my Indian Christian friend. Where to go was the one supreme question before me. I must quit the inn and had no friend to go to ! ! The only alternative left was to return to Bombay. The train to Bombay left Baroda at 9 p.m. There were five hours to be spent. Where to spend them ? Should I go to the inn ? Should I go to my friend ? I could not buck up sufficient courage to go back to the inn. I feared the Parsis might come and attack me. I did not like to go to my friend. Though my condition was pitiable I did not like to be pitied. I decided to spend the five hours in the public garden which is called Kamathi Baug, on the border of the city and the camp. I sat there partly

678 DR. BABASAHEB AMBEDKAR : WRITINGS AND SPEECHES with a vacant mind, partly with sorrow at the thought of what had happened to me, and thought of my father and mother as children do when they are in a forlorn condition. At 8 p.m. I came out of the garden, took a carriage to the inn, brought down my luggage. The caretaker came out but neither he nor I could utter a word to each other. He felt that he was in some way responsible for bringing him into trouble. I paid him his bill. He received it in silence and I took his leave in silence. I had gone to Baroda with high hope. I had given up many offers. It was war time. Many places in the Indian Educational service were vacant. I knew very influential people in London. But I did not seek any of them. I felt that my duty was to offer my services first to the Maharaja of Baroda who had financed my education. And here I was driven to leave Baroda and return to Bombay after a stay of only eleven days. This scene of a dozen Parsis armed with sticks lined before me in a menacing mood and myself standing before them with a terrified look imploring for mercy is a scene which so long a period as 18 years has not succeeded in fading away. I can even now vividly recall it and never recall it without: tears in my eyes. It was then for the first time that I learnt that a person who is an unouchable to a Hindu is also an untouchable to a Parsi.

THREE The year was 1929. The Bombay Government had appointed a Committee to investigate the grievances of the untouchables. I was appointed a member of the Committee. The Committee had to tour all over the province to investigate into the allegations of injustice, oppression and tyranny. The Committee split up. I and another member were assigned the two districts of Khandesh. My colleague and myself after finishing our work parted company. He went to see some Hindu saint. I left by train to go to Bombay. At Chalisgaon I got down to go to a village on the Dhulia line to investigate a case of social boycott which had been declared by the caste Hindus against the untouchables of that village. The untouchables of Chalisgaon came to the station and requested me to stay for the night with them. My original plan was to go straight to Bombay after investigating the case of social boycott. But as they were keen I agreed to stay overnight. I boarded the train for Dhulia to go to the village, went there and informed myself of the situation prevailing in the village and returned by the next train to Chalisgaon. I found the untouchables of Chalisgaon waiting for me at the station. I was garlanded. The Maharwada, the quarters of the untouchables, is about 2 miles from the Railway station and one has to cross a river on which there is a culvert to reach it. There were many horse carnages at the station plying for hire. The Maharwada was also within walking distance from the station. I expected immediately to be taken to the Maharwada. But there was no movement in that direction and I could not understand why I was kept waiting. After an hour or so a tonga (one horse carriage) was brought close to the platform and I got in. The driver and I were the only two occupants of the tonga. Others went on foot by a short cut. The tonga had not gone 200 paces when there would have been a collision with a motor car. I was surprised that the driver who was paid for hire every day should have been so inexperienced. The accident was averted only