Kya Sove Tu Bavri #1

So the first thing, as Dhirubhai said: there must be an organization of youth—organized, in some way, with a military flavor. Organization is essential. And as Kakubhai also said: without discipline, without an inner order, no organization can move forward; certainly not a youth organization.
So both suggestions—the one by Kakubhai and the one by Dhirubhai—are useful. Even if daily meetings are not yet possible, meet three times a week; if even that is not possible, then twice. Gather in one place. At a fixed hour, for an hour—an hour and a half—come together. And as a friend asked, ‘How does friendship grow?’ Friendship grows by doing anything together. There is no other way. What Kakubhai said can increase acquaintance, but not friendship. Friendship ripens when we are together in some work. If we play a game together, friendship will be born—it can’t be stopped. If we drill together, friendship will form; if we even dig a pit together, friendship will form; if we eat together, friendship will form. Do anything together and friendship begins. Sit and reflect together, and friendship will begin. He is right—friendship should be cultivated. But acquaintance is one thing; friendship deepens when we stand together, work together. And if we have to do something that simply cannot be done alone—something that requires togetherness—then friendship starts going to the roots.
So it is good to arrange some play, some discussion. Sit together, speak together, play together. And it is appropriate to sometimes organize a picnic, sometimes go out for an outing. Friendship grows only when we remain engaged with each other in some activity for a good length of time.
And meeting at a single place will be very useful—an hour, an hour and a half. There, in my view—and as he cited examples of other organizations—their outer framework can be used. I have no approval for their soul, their ideology and vision. I am totally opposed. For all those institutions that have run till now are, in one sense, anti-revolutionary. But their outer framework can be put to full use.
Add one more thing—Kakubhai understands this: when we drill together there are deep effects. When our bodies move together, in one rhythm, our minds also begin, after a while, to fall into one rhythm. The addition I would make is: I do not favor drill alone, because that remains largely physical. Nor do I favor games alone, for the same reason. Along with these, I would like—and we shall soon devise a way—that ten, fifty young people sit with me in one place and, within two to four days, grasp the whole method.
Let drill happen—and with it, meditation. Let games happen—and with them, meditation. I call it ‘meditation in action.’ Whenever old people meditate, it will be ‘in-action,’ inactive. They can sit in a corner and do it. But to tell a youth, a young woman, a small child: sit quietly in a corner for an hour—this is very unnerving for them. Hence, across the world, youth and children have not been able to meditate, because the condition traditionally laid down for meditation is perfectly suited to the old, but not at all to the young. We will need to devise something such that when the child is playing, we say to him: play with total awareness. Or when he is drilling, let the legs drill outside while inside the mind remains utterly silent—aware of where he is, which place; let that be watched. Two parallel streams—outside the body drills, inside the chitta remains in meditation. So an active meditation needs to be joined to that organization.
And as to the outer framework—just as youth organizations run the world over—we should understand and attempt a similar organization. Ultimately it will be necessary that members meet daily—that they care for their physical health—as Kakubhai said; because all foundations of mental health are laid upon physical health.
Also remember: a sick person can desire revolution, but his revolution will always be destructive; it can never be creative. A sick person’s impulse is: break things, erase things. But breaking is not enough. The question of breaking arises only in order to build. When a healthy person desires revolution, it is of a very different color. He is not eager to smash—he can smash if needed—but the eagerness is always to create. He wants to build something.
Simone Weil was a very revolutionary woman in France. She wrote that till the age of thirty, my head constantly ached. Until thirty I was an atheist, a revolutionary, deeply anarchic; and it never occurred to me that all this disturbance was rooted in my health. When my health became completely sound, a transformation happened in me. All my earlier thoughts dissolved, and new thoughts began to arise.
A sick brain attracts one kind of thought; a healthy brain attracts another. So it is very necessary that the organization do something in the direction of health. Let there be games, let there be drill; more can be explored. All of it should be directed toward health. Experiments with yogasana can be done, classes can be run—so that those who come into relation with us...
Whoever remains within our youth organization for a year should undergo a radical change in health; a change in his chitta. His mind should grow quiet. His body, strong. Then that one hour he comes for will make him feel he wasted the other twenty-three—after a year he will know that that one hour has remained with him. Merely coming and going won’t do. He must feel that by coming he gains something, and the one who doesn’t come is losing something.
So first, care for health: every person who comes into this organization should begin to taste a new sense of well-being.
At the same time, it is necessary that the people who gather there do not spend much of their thought worrying about whether Atman is or is not, whether Paramatman is or is not! Think of these sometimes, but more on the things we can use, as Kakubhai said—food, exercise, health, meditation. Reflect on these, experiment with these. Then experiments will begin to yield results. How we stand, how we sit; how we eat, what we eat; what clothes we wear—these are worth considering. Right now all this is haphazard. And the young—who have to shape an entire life—must think about the whole of life.
Soon, I think, as your circle grows and one hundred—five hundred youth gather around you, I want to hold a camp only for young men and women—so that in four days I can speak with them about the entire process of their life. Then they can carry the work forward in that direction.
It is also appropriate to undertake small experiments. These things are important. One matter is very necessary—it has always been in my heart, I always say it: in India, within the coming twenty years, we must strictly abolish the arrangement of marrying within the same caste. If ever the misfortune of castes is to be destroyed in India, if these walls of religion—like a leprosy—are to be demolished... explanation will not do it. However much we understand that Hindu and Muslim are one, nothing becomes one that way. To become one we must break into each other’s homes by tearing down the walls—and, in India as it stands, apart from marriage there is no other real entry into each other’s homes.
So it is essential that the youth who come to us receive this understanding: that at least once in life he will make this experiment—he will not agree to marry within his caste. He will try to marry outside his caste.
The truth is, the entire Indian stock has been debilitated—the entire race has gone to waste—through same-caste marriage. Not only is it irreligious, inhuman; it is unscientific. The more distant the caste in which marriage happens, the greater the possibility of good children—cross-breeding as it increases... But we are more scientific with animals than with human beings. We go and buy an English bull and have him ‘marry’ an Indian cow. But in human affairs we are not equally scientific. We know that the calf of an English bull with an Indian cow has a vigor that neither a pure English nor a pure Indian bull’s calf can match. The more two distant streams meet, the more robust the personality born.
So ultimately—if not today, then tomorrow—we should think now of inter-caste marriage. Slowly we must care, in the coming days, to begin inter-provincial, inter-national marriages. If not today, then twenty years hence, the whole country should care for inter-national marriages. Let us bring as many brides from outside India as we can; send as many of our girls out; bring in as many boys, send out boys—let this exchange move as swiftly as possible; it will help make this world a better world.
So we must think on this and gather courage. And the youngsters who can gather courage should raise a wind in this direction and experiment. This is a matter of personal experiment: each child should begin to feel—let me seek my bonds beyond my caste. This is wholly right.
And another matter I keep saying is also right—that we drop our old obstinacy about names. A friend of mine in Bihar named his child ‘Krishna Karim.’ I understood at once. Beautiful—utterly lovely! How lovely the name is! And ‘Krishna Karim’ is so graceful! We should care that if there are already four children at home and new ones come, we be even more careful to give names that are international—so that it becomes difficult to know which caste, which religion. When he tells someone his name, the other cannot tell anything from it. If for twenty years we care, it will become difficult in India to tell who is Hindu, who is Muslim, who is Christian. What you do within is your affair—go to church, mosque, or temple—no problem to us.
But a name should not be like a placard announcing who a person is. The person is sufficient; more than that, the name need not be a concern. This is very good. Whoever can muster courage should change their names. If not, then for new children arriving at home we must try to give new names. Within twenty years we should create such a wind. Because if not today, tomorrow these youth of yours will become fathers and mothers. If at that time they remember, and as parents they also give new names to their children, even that will be very valuable—immensely valuable. Such small suggestions are right; we should use them. They will be useful. They will help spread our movement, give it speed, create a climate.
As for clothing—it seems minor. Clothes have loosened a little; we should thank the English for that—not due to us but out of compulsion. Yet even today distance is evident. Even today one can tell from the clothes what a man is, who he is, which caste, what he is. That should end. Clothing should not convey any news. Slowly we must care that all castes wear the same style. At least our young men and women should. From their dress it should not be possible to tell who they are. We must care for this. Whatever barriers make a man appear separate from man—we must break those barriers. Then you will feel—as you keep asking, what is constructive—that you are actually doing something, actually breaking barriers.
There are many ways to break these barriers; we should care for them. If a good talk is happening in a mosque, members of our youth group should go, whatever their background; they should go and listen—and invite the people of the mosque to come when we hold something. If something is happening in a church, we should go. If in a Parsi temple, we should go. Wherever a good thing is available, we should go.
A strange condition has arisen: I may keep speaking for years in Bombay—if Hindus are listening, only Hindus will keep listening; a Muslim may never be seen. It will be hard to find him; no trace. That is a far matter. In Calcutta I speak—and till now no Bengali has come to hear me in Calcutta, because the organizers are Marwaris. Only Marwaris come to listen. In Calcutta I feel as if I am in Jaipur. It makes no difference to me, because in Calcutta a Bengali won’t come. If I speak in Calcutta, and if the organizer is Marwari, then Marwaris will come.
So Hindu–Muslim is a distant issue. If I speak among Jains in a village, the Hindus of that village won’t come. If I speak among Hindus in that very village... In Gwalior, the first time I spoke, I went to speak among Jains—Jains were my listeners. The second time, in the same town, some association of Maharashtrian Brahmins organized it; there I did not see a single Jain. I was surprised—what is this! They couldn’t even get the news. We have no entry into each other.
So we must change clothes, change names, give momentum to marriage.
From Raja Ram Mohan Roy to Gandhi, everyone tried to make Hindu and Muslim one. But the effort did not succeed, because the matter cannot be settled by explaining. If these people had tried this one thing—that Hindu and Muslim should intermarry—and if their followers had simply married across, then the partition of India–Pakistan would have been impossible; it would never have happened. In a country like China there has never been a religious riot. Not because Chinese are such good people that they don’t fight. The only reason is: inside one house there are two or three religions; whom will you fight? The wife is Buddhist, the husband Confucian. If there is a conflict between Buddhists and Confucians, how will it run in the village? In India a riot can run—Hindus apart, Muslims apart. Knifings can happen. But if my mother is Muslim and my father Hindu—where shall I stand, whom shall I fight? If a Hindu–Muslim riot breaks out, it will break out in my home. It cannot run. In China, even five religions within a single home can be found.
A friend of mine stayed in a house. He was astonished to discover five religions in that one home. So how can there be a riot? Whom will you fight? If you burn a church—someone in your house belongs there; if you torch a mosque—someone in your house belongs there; if you burn a temple—someone in your house belongs there. Then the whole family will wake up to the fact—this is his church, this is his temple.
Pakistan would never have been carved out of India if Indian youth had married across Muslims and Hindus and Jains and Buddhists. But youngsters are utterly weak—absolutely timid; they have no courage at all. So courage must be gathered. If a social revolution is to be brought, this courage is needed.
And just as the distance between Hindu and Muslim must fall, there is an even larger ‘caste’—women and men—and the distance between them must fall too. That is an even larger divide. Even if the Hindu–Muslim quarrel dissolves, the quarrel between woman and man does not. Now, seeing women sitting scattered among us makes me happy; yet seeing a space left in the middle—men on one side, women separately—hurts. All this appears absurd—uncouth. It is a sign of incivility, of lack of culture—that a woman cannot sit among you. It proves that the men nearby are dangerous, not civilized. That for a woman to sit among them is difficult—someone will shove, someone will tug at her clothing, someone will do something! We must break this distance. It must go.
Woman and man are not two species of animals. There should not be such a distance between them. But it is there—and in this country it is heavy. We must break it completely.
So this youth revolutionary group should slowly gather the courage so that there we do not recognize man and woman as categories. We do not accord it any sanction—who is woman, who is man—we do not care. Why has such a distance been erected between them? It is proof that our minds are very immoral. If minds were moral, this distance would not be required.
And the irony: because minds are immoral, the distance is created; and because there is distance, minds cannot become moral—they go on becoming more immoral—more and more.
Across the country—everywhere I go—I am shocked to hear that no girl can walk alone on the streets. Someone will abuse, someone will shove, someone will say something—something or other will happen. Just now, Jabalpur—where I live, and hence know more—there I am startled to see it. When I was at the university, the girls moved as if they were prey animals, hunters all around. That from somewhere they will be struck. How frightened they arrive at college, how frightened they leave. But neither can they say anything, nor is anyone willing to listen. It is not even seen as a matter for thought.
How has such madness arisen? This madness must be broken. Distances must fall between Hindu and Muslim; distances must fall between woman and man. But why have they not yet fallen? Why were they erected? Because if woman and man come close, the danger of love arises. And the caste-bound mind wants to protect itself from love—because love does not keep accounts of who is Muslim, who is Hindu, who is Christian.
In marriage, an arrangement can be kept: Hindu to Hindu, Brahmin to Brahmin. But love is very disturbing. It never checks whether the one in front is Brahmin or not. First love happens; later it turns out whether he is Brahmin or Christian or Muslim.
Since castes must be kept apart, no space must be given to love—not even a little. Give space to love and castes will go.
The day love is allowed space in the world, that very day castes will end—castes cannot survive. To save castes, love has been murdered—do not let love survive, then castes will survive; otherwise they cannot.
If we care to look, we must explore the whole social milieu, the climate of the society—everyone must contemplate what things are to be broken, on which we can agree, and break them. Even if we cannot break them today, keep them before us as a goal that we shall try. Perhaps we cannot, perhaps our children will. We will create the wind, devise the means, think. Such contemplation must be born there. And remember: the larger the revolution, the more tranquil the people required. Revolutions are not brought by the agitated. Revolutions are brought by the serene. The more quiet we are, the greater the revolution we can bring.
So at the center: let us gather strength there, gather thought. But above all, gather silence—so that when our youth speak to anyone, it does not appear that they speak of licentiousness; it does not appear as if they are irresponsibly calling for smashing things. Seeing him, one should feel he is so still that licentiousness cannot come from him. If he speaks, he speaks after seeing, after considering.
Then we must care what to carry into society. For two years, all the youth who come around me should care only for this: how to convey these ideas to every single home. Deliver literature into people’s homes. Among your acquaintances, make it your resolve that not a single home will be left where you do not deliver literature. Deliver it there. Play tapes for your friends. Care fully that your friends can come, listen, understand. Bring them once. Then leave the worry to them—if they want, they will come again; no compulsion. If a hundred—five hundred youth join hands and take up the task of delivering literature to every house in Bombay, within two years we will deliver to every home—there is no difficulty.
Deliver literature, home by home. Deliver the news, the message, to every home—especially to new young men and women. And there will be much work to do—because in saying what I am saying a thousand obstacles will be raised; a thousand oppositions will arise. To get past all that, there is no way except youth. It may be that no newspaper prints my words—then we must have so many youth that whatever news a paper could spread, our youth will deliver by foot.
If not today, then tomorrow they will raise obstacles of other kinds; because as vested interests begin to feel that if these ideas move, everything will be shaken, they will create disturbances of many kinds. Standing before those disturbances will require youth to gather strength. It may happen that we need something like satyagraha, some form of pressure. Even today, village by village, many things are happening—if we have five hundred youth in a village, we can undertake satyagraha-like actions. A thousand things are going on against which a wind can be raised. We can declare our resolve that this we shall not allow. There is plenty of work to do.
But before that work, the ideas must be conveyed—so that people come by way of thought, and from that work can arise. So for two years, do all these things I have said, and that you have suggested; do them. And care most for the central point: how to reach the maximum number of people, how to deliver the message to the maximum. Then every village, every town, will have its own small issues—attend to those too.
Now about our gatherings... I have just spoken with Premchandbhai: the youth and young women of the Youth Revolutionary Front should have a special uniform. At least in meetings they should be seen in uniform. Five hundred youth visible in uniform—the impact will be different. The assembly will appear orderly. It will be felt that behind the gathering a movement is rising. It will be clear that thought is not just thought—there is power behind it, a force standing there. What I say has its effect, but less than the effect of how many are resolutely ready to do for that word. It is about creating that wind.
For now, even if you meet once a day, listen to tapes—that is fine. Discuss—that too is fine. But talk and tapes are not enough. You need some work—youth need work; otherwise they will be bored. So find work—deliver literature, take tapes elsewhere to play. Listen there, while you make others listen. Deliver the message, deliver the discussion. You can issue a small bulletin here—a youth front bulletin—even monthly, even four pages. Care to deliver that bulletin door to door. For within two years, no paper will slowly agree to publish my words. We will need our own paper; through our own paper we’ll have to reach—otherwise nothing will reach. They can print anything and it will travel; we will not be able to send ours.
Today even a meeting of fifty thousand does not produce as much result as a small newspaper can. So a small bulletin should be issued here. And give special care in Bombay, for on that basis we will establish centers throughout the country. The responsibility here is larger upon you. If a nucleus is formed here, then upon that basis... Youth across the country ask what to do, what not to do. From here circulars can be sent, information can be sent; they can establish there. On university campuses, in colleges, form groups, form cells; arrange small meets. If you can’t meet everywhere—if in one college five of you study, gather fifty during recess for fifteen minutes and play a tape.
Much will be written against me—against my ideas. We have no idea yet. We think: it is written against—fine, what do we care! People will forget. This is wrong. If we have five hundred youth, responses must be written, answers must be written. If one item reaches them against me, two items in my favor should also reach them. They should begin to feel that it is not easy to print against, because ten people are ready to speak in favor too.
Often four people in a village are against—they will go and write to the paper. And the whole world will think the whole village is against. Those who are with me say: it is fine—what do we need to do! They are writing—wrongly. But those who don’t know me will have no way to know what was written and what wasn’t; what is being printed and what isn’t. They can write anything, print anything.
Just now a book has been issued against me. It says I was a Jain monk. When was I a Jain monk? I myself don’t know. I learned for the first time by reading that book that I was a Jain monk, and that I have now left monkhood and become corrupt. When this happened—I came to know only upon reading the book. For such things, strength must be gathered. For all this, there must be organization! Only if youth gather will it happen.
So care a little for this. And when you meet, do not overtalk—do not overthink. Create a coherent plan: this much we have to do; this is how we’ll do it; and begin. Don’t worry that many people must first come—people always come. If there is power in the work and in the thought, people will keep coming. If you have the means to retain them, they will come and stay. If you don’t, thousands will come and go. There must be a place to hold those who come out of curiosity. What can I do, how much can I do? I can roam the whole country shouting. I will be here three days and then go. After me there must be the care of follow-up.
We have no idea how small things create impact! When Hitler first formed his youth organization in Germany, he had seven people—none trained. With these seven ordinary men, how did he begin? Hitler would go to speak in a meeting; he trained those seven to sit in seven places and clap loudly at specific points. Because people’s minds—seeing seven clapping—make the whole hall clap. Hardly anyone claps by his own intelligence—don’t imagine it. Eighty out of a hundred clap when they see others clap. Hitler’s speech—and the whole hall claps. The whole town hears that something extraordinary is happening—an amazing speaker. And there were only seven who made the hall clap, and then the whole hall clapped.
Then he began a second tactic. I do not say you should begin such a thing. He made it difficult for others to hold meetings. Those same seven–eight would go and create disturbance. Seven–eight cause trouble—and the whole hall is disturbed. Slowly a condition arose: people of the town knew that only in Hitler’s meeting is there peace—and nowhere else. No use going; there will be turmoil; no need to go. He was neither a good speaker, nor had great thought, nor was he an intelligent man. And yet, with a few people, he captured all of Germany; not only Germany, he threw the whole world into such trouble as had never occurred before—that one man put so vast a world into such difficulty.
Those who do evil always form organization; they cast the world into hardship. Those who would do good sit and talk and go home. This has been the misfortune so far. For evil, organizations arise; for good, there is always talk—and it ends. Thus the bad man, who has no one’s support, slowly wins. And the good man, who might have everyone’s support, slowly loses.
We must attend to this: if an idea seems good to us, it becomes our duty to spread it as far as we can. Otherwise, a good idea remaining in the head is useless—it will go to waste. Only when it becomes active will it work. And the moment any good idea becomes active, those whose hands hold power will stand against it. They have the whole apparatus and arrangement. They can choke any new idea at birth.
Today it seems to us that Jesus’s idea is immensely powerful. But on the day Jesus was crucified, there wasn’t a single man to say no. This is worth pondering: for a man like Jesus—of whom hardly two or four like him have walked the earth—on the day he was nailed to the cross, not one person said you are doing wrong. A hundred thousand gathered to watch, but no one said it was wrong. People said it is perfectly right—because those who held power propagated that this man is wrong.
Jesus had, in his lifetime, only eight disciples—no more. And even they trembled. When the whole world stands against! When Jesus was seized at night, Peter, a close companion, said: do not worry, we will go with you. Jesus said: before the sun rises, before the cock crows, you will deny me thrice. Peter said: never in my life will I deny you.
They took Jesus away. Peter followed. The crowd suspected: this man seems a stranger; not one of us. They seized him—are you with Jesus? He said: no, why would I be! I am a stranger. Jesus turned back and said: did I not say, before the sun rises you will deny me three times?
When the crowd is so huge in opposition, when the entire world, the whole apparatus is against—even those who stand with you have their courage waver—how long to stand, how to stand? And their minds have been fashioned by the same crowd; doubt enters their minds—perhaps this man is indeed wrong. When so many say so, perhaps it must be wrong? Can so many be wrong?
Socrates was crucified—made to drink hemlock. People could not be found in his town to testify that this man was right. And for two thousand years now we bear witness that he was extraordinary. It is astonishing. Yet those who have the apparatus, who have the means of propaganda, can propagate anything; they can set up any arrangement.
So if any idea is to be conveyed—if it feels love-filled, worth conveying—then gathering strength, getting organized, becoming its support is absolutely essential. Think the details for that. But all these suggestions you have offered are right. Start thinking upon them.
Begin the work—even with five or ten gathered—that is fine. If this can be done, within five years a wholly new current of youth can be raised across the country: which will transform all education, transform the whole society, transform the whole system, transform the whole thinking. Think in that direction.
And soon do what is needed so that five hundred youth gather here in Bombay—then we shall quickly take a camp, so that a first camp is formed where everything can be discussed in detail. Upon that basis we can then devise a systematic plan. And for now, among those who meet, appoint a committee of three. Those three should draft a constitution—a charter, set membership rules. All that is formal should be put in order, and then begin work according to that order.
And life is not such a thing that we take a final decision today. We will work; tomorrow it may feel right or not. New suggestions will come and work will continue; we can develop it further. But a large responsibility lies upon the friends of Bombay; as you shape it here, the whole country can begin to shape upon that basis.
And do not look to me for everything. I can give the guiding thoughts; the details and specifics you should decide. Do not wait on me for every little detail—that I will come and then it will be done. If so, work will become very difficult.