satyagraha, and so come to grief, and bring us all to grief along with you,” said he with a smile.
“What else but grief can you hope to come to after having cast in your lot with me?” said I. “A Satyagrahi is born to be deceived. Let the Commanding Officer deceive us. Have I not told you times without number that ultimately a deceiver only deceives himself?”
Sorabji gave a loud laugh. “Well, then,” said he, “continue to be deceived. You will some day meet your death in satyagraha and drag poor mortals like me behind you.”
These words put me in mind of what the late Miss Emily Hobhouse wrote to me with regard to noncooperation: “I should not be surprised if one of these days you have to go to the gallows for the sake of truth. May God show you the right path and protect you.”
The talk with Sorabji took place just after the appointment of the Commanding Officer. In a very few days our relations with him reached the breaking point. I had hardly regained my strength after the fourteen days’ fast, when I began to take part in the drill, often walking to the appointed place about two miles from home. This gave me pleurisy and laid me low. In this condition I had to go weekend camping. Whilst the others stayed there, I returned home. It was here that an occasion arose for satyagraha.
The Commanding Officer began to exercise his authority somewhat freely. He gave us clearly to understand that he was our head in all matters, military and nonmilitary, giving us at the same time a taste of his authority. Sorabji hurried to me. He was not at all prepared to put up with this high-handedness. He said: “We must have all orders through you. We are still in the training camp and all sorts of absurd orders are being issued. Invidious distinctions are made between ourselves and those youths who have been appointed to instruct us. We must have it