have meant sure ridicule. I had hardly the knowledge of a qualified vakil and yet I expected to be
paid ten times his fee! No client would be fool enough to engage me. And even if such a one was
to be found, should I add arrogance and fraud to my ignorance, and increase the burden of debt I
owed to the world?
Friends advised me to go to Bombay for some time in order to gain experience of the High Court,
to study Indian law and to try get what briefs I could. I took up the suggestion and went.
In Bombay I started a household with a cook as incompetent as myself. He was a Brahman. I did
not treat him as a servant but as a member of the household. He would pour water over himself
but never wash. His dhoti was dirty, as also his sacred thread, and he was completely innocent of
the scriptures. But how was I to get a better cook?
'Well, Ravishankar,' (for that was his name), I would ask him, 'you may not know cooking, but
surely you must know your sandhya (daily worship), etc.
'#Sandhya#, sir! the plough is our sandhya and the spade our daily ritual. That is the type of
Brahman I am. I must live on your mercy. Otherwise agriculture is of course there for me.'
So I had to be Ravishankar's teacher. Time I had enough. I began to do half the cooking myself
and introduced the English experiments in vegetarian cookery. I invested in a stove, and with
Ravishankar began to run the kitchen. I had no scruples about interdining, Ravishankar too came
to have none, and so we went on merrily together. There was only one obstacle. Ravishankar
had sworn to remain dirty and to keep the food unclean!
But it was impossible for me to get along in Bombay for more than four or five months, there
being no income to square with the ever- increasing expenditure.
This was how I began life. I found the barrister's profession a bad job - much show and little
knowledge. I felt a crushing sense of my responsibility.
Chapter 28
THE FIRST CASE
While in Bombay, I began, on the one hand, my study of Indian law and, on the other, my
experiments in dietetics in which Virchand Gandhi, a friend, joined me. My brother, for his part,
was trying his best to get me briefs.
The study of Indian law was a tedious business. The Civil Procedure Code I could in no way get
on with. Not so however, with the Evidence Act. Virchand Gandhi was reading for the Solicitor's
Examination and would tell me all sorts of stories about barristers and vakils. 'Sir Pherozeshah's
ability,' he would say, 'lies in his profound knowledge of law. He has the Evidence Act by heart
and knows all the cases on the thirty-second section. Badruddin Tyabji's wonderful power of