My Public Awakening (9)

9. My Public Awakening

Father’s role 

My grandfather died at the age of 46 in 1930 when my father Khemchand was only 11 years old. My father migrated to Ahmedabad city in 1934 and became textile mill worker from 1935. He married in 1940 but had a tough decade from 1944 to 1954 when the mill was closed down. 

In 1954, when Bagicha Mill No. 2 (Dholka) was re-established, he gained importance amongst the workers. Since most of the workers were disciples of Gambhu seat of Guru, my father was unanimously elected as the representative of the Mill Workers’ Union (Majoor Mahajan Sangh). From then on, the title “Member” became an inseparable part of his identity something he carried with pride throughout his life.

He always wore a khadi long coat, dhoti, Gandhi cap, and black polished Mojdi shoes his lifelong attire. From 1954 until 1984, when the mill shut down, he served continuously for thirty years as a union member.

With the reform introducing workers’ participation in management, elections were held for the Joint Management Council, and he won by a large majority, receiving the highest number of votes.

Though illiterate, my mother had taught him basic reading and writing, which allowed him to write applications, maintain accounts, and keep records with remarkable discipline. His union diaries filled with careful notes later helped me trace important details of our family’s history.

Awareness of events of public importance 

Because of my father’s leadership and involvement in public life, I began developing a sense of maturity and social awareness from the young age of nine, around 1969, the year of the Ahmedabad riots.

During the 1971 India–Pakistan war, I would go around our chawl (worker housing colonies) at night ensuring that all households turned off their lights during air raid warnings.

Experience of Parliamentary Elections 

In the 1971 general elections, the Congress party had split into two factions —Organization Congress and Indira Congress. The Majoor Mahajan Sangh, with which my father was associated, supported Morarji Desai, so for the Ahmedabad Lok Sabha seat, industrialist Sheth Jaykrishna Harivallabhdas stood as the Organization Congress candidate.

Because of my father, I got involved in election work managing booths and serving as a polling agent at the Kamdar Maidan booth. I was told to look at the voters ensuring that bogus voters were stopped by alerting the Presiding Officer. I knew them all the voters of the booth coming from seven chawl. Thus, at just eleven years old, I got hands-on experience in India’s election process.

Though Sheth Jaykrishna lost to Induchacha (Indulal Yagnik), my interest in politics had already taken root.

In 1972, when Induchacha passed away, a by-election was held. Independent candidate Purushottam Ganesh Mavalankar’s speeches became widely popular. I joined his campaign trail and attended many of his speeches, so he came to recognize me personally.

He went on to win that by-election and became a Member of Parliament. Later, during the post-Emergency 1977 elections, he won again from the Gandhinagar seat as a Janata Party candidate though he eventually lost in 1980.

Through these experiences from my father’s union leadership to my own early exposure to politics, my journey in public life had already begun.

Mother’s Role in My Education and Upbringing 

Along with my formal education, my mother played a major role in my upbringing. During conversations or discussions, she would often quote proverbs and wise sayings, each carrying a moral lesson for life.

My mother had studied up to the fifth grade, but she was well-read and sharp-minded. She understood the meaning of words and sentences precisely. When she read a newspaper, she didn’t just skim it, she would read every corner carefully.

Rooted in Vaishnav traditions, her daily routine included devotional work to Lord Krishna and reading the Shrimad Bhagavat. Her collection of subhashitas (wise sayings) was a treasure, and she never missed the chance to quote the right one for any situation in daily life.

To ensure the children grew up disciplined and respectful, she would say: “Do what your parents say, respect your elders, follow your teacher’s guidance — God will bless you with grace.”

She believed deeply in the power of good thoughts, saying: “A good thought is worth a thousand rupees.”

For regularity and discipline in life, she would remind us:  “He who sleeps early and rises early is brave — his strength, wisdom, and wealth increase, and he remains healthy.”

She related poverty to the law of karma, saying: 

“If destiny has written hardship, who can erase it?
If it’s written that you’ll drink buttermilk,
how can you ever afford ghee?”

When it came to authority, she would caution against stubbornness:  “In whose reign you live, to him you must say yes.”

And for careful living, her favorite saying was simple: “A cautious person always remains happy.”

Saraswati Bachat Mandal 

Towards the end of each month, money always ran short. If someone fell ill, or there was a wedding, utensils to buy, or a family function to attend, one had to borrow money. But borrowing came at a heavy price, interest rate was six rupees per month on borrowing ₹100. It comes to 72% per annum. And if repayment was delayed, families would have to sell their ornaments.

So in 1971, I proposed the idea of a savings group (bachat mandal). We started with eleven members and decided on a monthly contribution of ₹10 each. The interest rate was set at ₹ 1 for borrowing 100 rupees making it 12% per annum. Loans had to be repaid in ten equal monthly instalments.

Out of my devotion to Goddess Saraswati, I named it “Saraswati Bachat Mandal.”

I went to Richee Road, bought a register, and carefully recorded members’ names, terms, and signatures or thumb impressions.

Every month, the ₹110 collected was loaned to one member in rotation. Gradually, new members joined, the monthly contribution increased to ₹25, and the loan amount grew larger.

The mandal ran successfully for about ten years, and through it, I learned valuable lessons in patience, interest calculation, loan recovery, and bookkeeping skills that stayed with me for life.

Slum Redevelopment Plan

In the 1975 Gujarat Legislative Assembly elections, the Shaher Kotda assembly constituency was allotted to the Majoor Mahajan Sangh (Textile Labour Association) as part of the Janata Morcha alliance. My father, was suggested as a potential candidate. However, out of respect and friendship, he gave up that opportunity in favor of his friend Naranbhai Ranchhodbhai. Naranbhai, however, lost the election to Narsinhbhai Makwana, the Congress candidate.

Although Shaher Katara seat was lost lost, the Janata Morcha won majority and formed the government, and Navinchandra Barot, a leader from the Majoor Mahajan Sangh, became the Minister of Labour.

As part of his vision to improve the living conditions of mill workers, he initiated meetings on slum redevelopment, aiming to free workers from their filthy and congested chawls. 

I was fifteen years old then still very young, but deeply active and involved. Through my father, I had come into contact with key trade union leaders like Arvind Buch, Shantilal Shah, Manhar Shukla, and Navinchandra Barot. I too attended those meetings, supported the redevelopment initiative, and tried to convince the chawl residents about its benefits.

However, the residents opposed it, saying, “If another flat is built above ours and someone else starts living there, what about our rights above the house, the open sky?” That narrow mindset caused the plan to collapse.

Emergency 

A few months later, the Emergency was declared in the country, and soon after, President’s Rule was imposed in Gujarat. With that, the progressive idea of slum redevelopment died prematurely.

I was destined to spend another decade living amid the filth of urban slums.

Because of the Majoor Mahajan Sangh’s loyalty to Morarji Desai, we too opposed the Emergency. 

Since the press was censored, we relied on underground publications for real news. These small, anonymous pamphlets were secretly printed and distributed across localities and chawls. Sometimes only one or two copies reached an entire chawl. We would stand in the courtyard and pass them around, reading eagerly. They carried painful stories of how George Fernandes and Subramanian Swamy were imprisoned and tortured, and such reports turned even lifelong Congress supporters away.

Still, Congress’s vote bank was so strong that in Shaher Kotda, its candidate never lost an election. 

Life in the Chawl — A Living Hell on Earth

Life in the chawl was nothing short of hell on earth. Between 80 small rooms and 25 shacks, there were only 10 public toilets. The men would go early in the morning, and the women at night — their nightly gatherings taking place in the open.

Each man carried a 200 ml water container in the morning and waited in a queue. There was only one tap for the toilets, but the municipal water supply was weak and ran for barely half an hour, not enough to fill the tank or clean the toilets. Sometimes the stone seat would be broken, making the filth unbearable.

When one’s turn came, it was like entering a pit of stench, sitting for a few moments, and running out gasping for air.

During the monsoon, worms and maggots appeared; if you sat even two or three minutes, they would crawl up your legs, filling you with horror.

Those hellish toilets and the crawling worms were constantly pushing me out of that chawl life — perhaps the strongest push that drove me toward the Indian Administrative Service.

Right next to my house was an illegal liquor business. So from a young age, I saw up close how alcohol, gambling, police corruption, and addiction destroyed families and lives. It was as if destiny had deliberately placed me there to understand the deep social decay caused by vice and poverty.

Gandhian Influence

My father was a staunch Gandhian, so my reading of Gandhi’s writings was deep and regular. In 1961, he attended the Majoor Mahajan Sangh’s delegation session in Bhavnagar, where he met Pandit Nehru. He also once travelled with a delegation on the Howrah Express to Calcutta.

I had read that when Gandhi visited the Calcutta Congress session in 1917, after two years of touring India, he personally cleaned toilets there and continued doing so even in jail.

Every day, I saw the filthy public toilets in our chali and the Valmiki youth, Bhikho, who came to clean them.

He had left school and taken up the degrading work of cleaning human waste. Watching him stirred deep compassion in me.

One day, moved by empathy and Gandhian ideals, I joined him and helped clean the toilets myself.

That experience gave me a profound understanding of human suffering and dignity — a lesson that stayed with me forever.

The Night School

I loved both learning and teaching. So, after returning home from my job, I ran a night school in the chawl courtyard.

There was a cement godown. Small square portion of it was plastered and painted it black to make a chalkboard. It was mainly used as a notice board. Since a municipal streetlight stood nearby, its glow became my classroom light.

There, I taught primary school children — reading, explaining meanings, teaching arithmetic. Through short moral stories, I instilled values, and through tales of great leaders, I inspired patriotism in them.

Little did I know then that this humble classroom of life was preparing me for a greater public service ahead.

17 September 2025