Summary of Cornelia Sorabji, "India Calling: The Memories of Cornelia Sorabji"
Cornelia Sorabji’s memoir, India Calling, gives an account of her life as a pioneer for women's rights and the first female lawyer in India. Born into a post-Mutiny world in the Bombay Presidency, Sorabji was the child of a Parsi [she spells it Parsee] father who converted to Christianity and a mother, Francina, who was a visionary in female education and social service. Her upbringing was a unique blend of English discipline and a her Indian heritage, as her parents fostered a sense of unity that aimed to transcend race and religion. Here is a passage showing how she described her childhood acculturation:
Sorabji credits her career path to her mother’s influence, who encouraged her at a young age to study Law to protect the property rights of secluded Indian women, known as Purdahnashins.My Father owed his personal thinking in an orthodox Parsee family to his English tutor, George Valentine. My Mother owed her education and ideals to her adoptive mother, Lady Ford, the wife of Sir Francis Ford, an Englishman in command of a regiment stationed during her childhood at the place in the Hills where her parents lived. We were therefore “brought up English”—i.e. on English nursery tales with English discipline; on the English language, used with our Father and Mother, in a home furnished like an English home. But—and this is where the Parents showed their wisdom—we were also compelled to learn the languages of the Peoples among whom we dwelt. We were told tales of our ancestors in Persia, and of our forbears and immediate family in the Parsee community in India. We were made proud of that community; but from our earliest days we were taught to call ourselves Indians, and to love and be proud of the country of our adoption: while the history of our Parents made us love also the people and country to which George Valentine and Cornelia Ford belonged.
Sorabji’s educational journey was marked by consistent breakthroughs against gender barriers. She was the first woman to attend Deccan College in Poona, where she topped the Presidency in her degree examinations. Despite this achievement, she was denied a government scholarship to study in England because she was a woman. Undeterred, she secured private funding and entered Somerville College, Oxford, in 1889. At Oxford, she became a protégé of Benjamin Jowett, the Master of Balliol, who helped her obtain a special University decree allowing her to sit for the Bachelor of Civil Law (B.C.L.) examination, a test previously reserved for men. Although she completed the examination in 1892, she could not formally receive her degree until 1922, after the law was changed to admit women to degrees.
Upon returning to India in 1894, Sorabji found that the legal profession remained closed to women in British India. She spent several years as a "rover," practicing in the Native States and Agency Courts, where rulers granted her special permission to plead cases. She describes the particular political situation that enabled that here:
The Thakur of a State was his own High Court; and, although my case was often brought against the Durbar itself (the Judge being also the Defendant!), I was given a special Sanad to appear. Who shall say whether this was due to luck or to curiosity?
Sometimes the case was what was known as “political”. The Agent to the Governor-General is the link between the Native States and British Control. He lives at the centres of political authority, is sometimes a Civilian in origin, sometimes a Military officer, but in his office of Agent belongs definitely to the Political Department of the Government of India.
Her early practice was defined by a commitment to the Purdahnashin, women who lived in strict seclusion and were often victims of fraud due to their inability to interact with male lawyers or government officials. One of her most famous early cases involved defending a woodcutter’s wife accused of murder; Sorabji secured an acquittal by using her knowledge of monsoon weather patterns to discredit the prosecution's evidence. Here is how she describes that particular case:
My own story included the fact that the murdered woodcutter lived in perfect harmony with his wife in a hut on the edge of a sloping wood. The murdered man had lent a considerable sum of money to a brother woodcutter with whom he used to go to work in clearings about a mile distant from their several huts.
He had had occasion the week previous to his death to ask the borrower for return of the money. Also, the day before the murder, the debtor had begged the loan of a vegetable cutter from the accused, saying that his wife had broken hers.
The night of the murder there was a terrific monsoon storm, the woodcutter did not return in the cowdust hour,9 as he was wont to do, and after waiting for him till far into the night the women ate their own meal and went to bed, thinking he had taken refuge from the storm in the hut of some brathari—other woodcutters who lived nearer the clearing.
Early next morning the police rapped on the door, and arrested the accused, showing her the body of her murdered husband lying not far from the hut. The debtor was with the police and had identified the woman.
The only witness I had of my version of the tale was the sister-in-law, not much use, even though cross-examination of the debtor had been helpful.
But that storm gave me an idea. I put in plans of the location, and evidence of the state of the barometer on the night of the murder. We all knew the violence of the Monsoon in the Western Ghats.
The hut was on such a sheer slope that the storm would not only have washed those well-measured pools of blood clean into a drain below, but would also have carried the body a considerable distance towards it.
She even accepted a "brief" for an elephant whose plantation had been seized by a Raja, a case decided in her favor by the Raja's bulldog.
Recognizing that her individual successes did not create a permanent path for other women, Sorabji lobbied the British government to create an official post for a woman legal adviser. In 1904, she was appointed the Lady Assistant to the Court of Wards for Bengal, Bihar, Orissa, and Assam. In this role, she acted as a liaison between the government and secluded widows and minors, protecting their health, education, and property rights. Her work frequently required her to navigate the intrigues of the Zenana, where she encountered everything from attempted poisonings to religious superstitions. She observed that the isolation of the Zenana often led to a distorted view of reality, where women used lies and curses as a form of "cleverness" to protect themselves from ignorance and powerlessness.
Throughout her career, Sorabji remained respectful of Indian cultural traditions even as she worked tirelessly to implement practical reforms. She believed that social change in India must proceed from the "known and accepted to the unknown," advocating for education that respected indigenous sensibilities. For instance, she successfully persuaded secluded women to accept vaccinations by framing them as a "prick of blood" to appease the goddess Kali. She also founded the League of Social Service, which utilized Purdahnashin volunteers to teach infant welfare and sanitation in rural villages, as she describes here:
Very soon the women will begin to say, “Of course, it was not a demon,” and to desire teaching. For that is another axiom which experience bought; you cannot help, however great the need, unless your help is desired. You have first to create recognition of a need for help, next a desire for help, and for help from you.
These reflections I put into a scheme—the League of Social Service—which planned for two kinds of workers, (a) the Forerunners, i.e. the indigenous or other worker acquainted with local superstitions who would go to the villages, accompanying a peripatetic clinic, so to speak, pitched under the village tree, demonstrating Infant welfare, Infant diet, giving talks about ante-natal care, a pure milk and water supply, etc. . . . all made attractive and complete with Magic Lantern and posters. . . .
Sorabji’s political views were defined by a strong loyalty to the British Raj and a deep skepticism of radical nationalism. During World War I, she organized "War Talks" for secluded women and conducted a massive survey of Indian food products to identify resources that could replace lost imports. However, she grew increasingly troubled by the rise of the Swaraj (Home Rule) movement and the tactics of Mahatma Gandhi. Here for instance is a passage where she describes the invention of the “Mahatma” title for Gandhi as a tactic by the Indian National Congress to excite uneducated villagers:
Another was to be found in the invention of the title “Mahatma” for Mr. Gandhi. I myself believe that Gandhi was genuine in his social service aspirations upon his return to India from South Africa, and that he was exploited by his disciples.
Gokhale, that level-headed and sincere reformer, realized Gandhi’s danger, and put him under promise not to interfere in politics. While Gokhale lived, Gandhi obeyed his Guru (Master), as he called him. But after Gokhale’s death, he was at the mercy of the body of clever young politicians. These men realized that the masses would respond to nothing but a call in the name of religion.
“A new Mahatma has arisen.”
“Where is he,” said the simple villagers, “that we might go and pay him reverence?”
“He does not allow you to visit his shrine, but he bids us collect alms in his name, and by us he will send you directions from time to time.”
She critiqued the Khaddar (Khadi/ home-spun) campaign as economically unrealistic and harmful to the poor, and she was horrified by the "tyrannies of terrorism" that she believed were corrupting Indian youth. Here is a passage where she questions the economics of the Khadi movement:
“Wait here!” commanded the boys, and went aside to consult with one another. They were in a predicament. For though they were Progressives, they were not past the superstitions of their race. He was a Brahmin. It would be difficult to keep their word about beating him to death. They came back to him. “This time we let you off. But if you spread this tale—beware!” and they shook their lathis in his face.
I visited the mills across the river in Calcutta, to ascertain the relative cost of production of handmade and machine-made goods. I found that a mill could turn out 400 yards a day as against 4 yards on a hand-loom. In the Bengal Home Industries Committee (started with Government help) of which I was a member, we tried to standardize hand-woven dhotis (the men’s ordinary wear), and a hand-woven sari (the women’s garment); but even giving the workers their looms and raw material did not help. We could not get the cost down any lower than twice that of the machine-made article. The hand-woven production is a luxury the world over. But Gandhi will not see this. He wants India to keep her place among the nations (the fourth Trade-Centre in the World), by the use of handicrafts, in a machine-made age. His campaign was at that time against Indian mills, as much as against Manchester, The smaller Indian traders had for years stocked the cheap goods demanded by the poorer clients in town and village. They were expected to scrap their stock immediately, in response to a political slogan—even though home-spun was unmarketable. The situation was complicated by the fact that a large proportion of this home-spun was imported from Japan (and so stamped, as I have seen with my eyes).
She recounts harrowing incidents where revolutionaries disguised themselves as widows to rob Purdahnashins, using the sanctity of the Zenana as a shield for crime.
In the latter part of her life, Sorabji achieved a long-held ambition by being formally called to the English Bar at Lincoln's Inn in 1923. After retiring from her government post, she continued to practice law privately, often returning to India to assist clients affected by new legislation that challenged traditional Hindu succession laws. Her later years included travels to the United States and Canada, where she lectured to counter anti-British propaganda and provide what she considered a more accurate view of Indian affairs.
Sorabji faced significant personal challenges toward the end of her life, including a period of near-blindness caused by health issues. She viewed her recovery as a miracle that allowed her to continue her "pilgrimage" of service. Her memoir concludes with a philosophical reflection on her life's work, which she likens to a tapestry woven with both successes and unfinished ends. Ultimately, Cornelia Sorabji’s legacy is that of a woman who "warmed her hands at two fires"—England and India—while remaining dedicated to the legal protection and social uplift of India's most vulnerable women.
This page has paths:
- Detailed Summaries of Works of Fiction Amardeep Singh