27/01/2020
My 21 years in Fiji Islands
Totaram’s story of leaving his mother and village and getting trapped by an arkati
I was born in 1876, in Hirangau (Firozabad), in the Sanadhya family. In 1887 my father Pt Raveti Ram Ji, died, and my mother, my brothers Ramanlal and Durgaprasad and I were left unprotected. Father left his wealth for us, about four thousand rupees worth of jewellery and so forth, but the whole of it was gone in just one year! This was because the dealers gave us very little money for it when we put the jewellery in their shops and took out loans. This way, four thousand rupees worth of jewellery was expended in just a short time. I still remember those days of poverty, and when the memory clouds into my mind, the sky of my heart is covered by gathering clouds of sorrow.
My elder brother Ramanlal afflicted by sorrow, went to Calcutta and worked as an assistant at Reilly Brothers for 8 rupees a month, my brother paid his own expenses and also sent money home. I was studying in class three at a school in Hirangau with Pandit Kalyan Prasad. My mother used to say to me: ‘Son, the way things are, you should plan for your subsistence now’. I could not see my mother’s suffering, so I left home in 1893, and went off on foot for work. I had only 7 annas with me. Facing many difficulties on the way, I reached Prayag in about 16 days. From this place begins the story of my own insignificant life, a sorrowful story on Ram.
Having arrived in Prayag, I bathed in the bank of Bhagirathi. Afterwards I met an Ahir, the son of Daragani. Hearing my whole story, this Ahir pitied me and brought me to his home. I lived with this Ahir for about two months. For the rest of my life I will never forget the merciful things this Ahir did for me.
When I spent many days in Trithraj, and never found work, I used to think that I should go, that I should return to my home. But then the thought would come to my mind that I could not bear to go home then and see my mother’s hardship. It could not be good to be nothing but a burden on her, not giving any help at all. Sometimes the love of my mother drew me towards home, and sometimes the knowledge of my mother’s suffering compelled me to the thought that I should do any kind of work, and not go home. I was thus fallen to indecision.
One day when I was in a market near Katwali, engaged in this worrying about finances, a man I didn’t know came up to me and asked, ‘Do you want employment?’ I said ‘Yes’ Then he said, ‘Good, I can get you a very good job. It’s the sort of work which will make your heart joyful’. To this end I said, ‘I will work but I won’t be able to work for more than six months or a year’. He said, ‘Good! You should come. When you wish, then quit working. Nothing will happen. Come, you should visit Jaganath Ji’.
My mind was not mature. On these words I came along! Deceived in this way, high class Indians come and then bear hardships for their whole lives. Oh my well-educated countrymen! Have you ever thought about these brothers? Have you ever heard about these sons of this green, bounteous motherland who have been sent to other countries by the cruelty of the people running the depots? Hearing the story of these people won’t you feel the lice crawling on your ear?
These arkati fooled me and brought me to his house. Once there I saw about 100 men sitting in one line and about 60 women in another. Some people were cooking with the damp wood and getting tired of blowing and blowing on the stove-fire.