Congress, but leave me free for the present.” Rajkumar Shukla of course wanted some help from the Congress. Babu Brajkishore Prasad moved the resolution, expressing sympathy for the people of Champaran, and it was unanimously passed.
Rajkumar Shukla was glad, but far from satisfied. He wanted me personally to visit Champaran and witness the miseries of the ryots there. I told him that I would include Champaran in the tour which I had contemplated and give it a day or two. “One day will be enough,” said he, “and you will see things with your own eyes.”
From Lucknow I went to Cawnpore. Rajkumar Shukla followed me there. “Champaran is very near here. Please give a day,” he insisted. “Pray excuse me this time. But I promise that I will come,” said I, further committing myself.
I returned to the Ashram. The ubiquitous Rajkumar was there too. “Pray fix the day now,” he said. “Well,” said I, “I have to be in Calcutta on such and such a date, come and meet me then, and take me from there.” I did not know where I was to go, what to do, what things to see.
Before I reached Bhupen Babu’s place in Calcutta, Rajkumar Shukla had gone and established himself there. Thus this ignorant, unsophisticated but resolute agriculturist captured me.
So early in 1917, we left Calcutta for Champaran, looking just like fellow-rustics. I did not even know the train. He took me to it, and we travelled together, reaching Patna in the morning.
This was my first visit to Patna. I had no friend or acquaintance with whom I could think of putting up. I had an idea that Rajkumar Shukla, simple agriculturist as he was, must have some influence in Patna. I had come to know him a little more on the journey, and on reaching Patna I had no illusions left concerning him. He was perfectly innocent of