I had undertaken to teach Tamil and Urdu. The little Tamil I knew was acquired during voyages
and in jail. I had not got beyond Pope's excellent Tamil handbook. My knowledge of the Urdu
script was all that I had acquired on a single voyage, and my knowledge of the language was
confined to the familiar Persian and Arabic words that I had learnt from contact with Musalman
friends. Of Samskrit I knew no more than I had learnt at the high school, even my Gujarati was no

better than that which one acquires at the school.

Such was the capital with which I had to carry on. In poverty of literary equipment my colleagues
went one better than I. But my love for the languages of my country, my confidence in my pupils,

and more than that, their generosity, stood me in good stead.

The Tamil boys were all born in South Africa, and therefore knew very little Tamil, and did not
know the script at all. So I had to teach them the script and the rudiments of grammar. That was
easy enough. My pupils knew that they could any day beat me in Tamil conversation, and when
Tamilians, not knowing English, came to see me, they became my interpreters. I got along
merrily, because I never attempted to disguise my ignorance from my pupils. In all respects I
showed myself to them exactly as I really was. Therefore in spite of my colossal ignorance of the
language I never lost their love and respect. It was comparatively easier to teach the Musalman
boys Urdu. They knew the script. I had simply to stimulate in them an interest in reading and to

improve their handwriting.

These youngsters were for the most part unlettered and unschooled. But I found in the course of
my work that I had very little to teach them, beyond weaning them from their laziness, and
supervising their studies. As I was content with this, I could pull on with boys of different ages and

learning different subjects in one and the same class room.

Of text-books, about which we hear so much, I never felt the want. I do not even remember
having made much use of the books that were available. I did not find it at all necessary to load
the boys with quantities of books. I have always felt that the true text-book for the pupil is his
teacher. I remember very little that my teachers taught me from books, but I have even now a

clear recollection of the things they taught me independently of books.

Children take in much more and with less labour through their ears than through their eyes. I do
not remember having read any book from cover to cover with my boys. But I gave them, in my
own language, all that I had digested from my reading of various books, and I dare say they are
still carrying a recollection of it in their minds. It was laborious for them to remember what they
learnt from books, but what I imparted to them by word of mouth, they could repeat with the
greatest ease. Reading was a task for them, but listening to me was a pleasure, when I did not
bore them by failure to make my subject interesting. And from the questions that my talks
prompted them to put, I had a measure of their power of understanding.

Chapter 111

TRAINING OF THE SPIRIT

The spiritual training of the boys was a much more difficult matter than their physical and

mental training. I relied little on religious books for the training of the spirit. Of course, I believed
that every student should be acquainted with the elements of his own religion and have a general
knowledge of his own scriptures, and therefore I provided for such knowledge as best I could. But