Back to the Mahatma

“Peace and quiet? Peace and quiet?” cried Gandhi. “How can there be peace and quiet when they keep going on a rampage down there, Ba? Look what they have gone and done in Orissa.”

“It’s terrible, but what can you do about it, Bapu?” asked good Kasturba, sensible as ever.

“Ba, you know what I’ve always said. Hatred ever kills, love never dies. Such a difference between the two. Whydon’t they understand that?”“The trouble with you is that you read too many newspapers,” said Kasturba, firmly putting the newspapers away. “You have done your bit by setting an example. Not it’s up to them.”

“You mock me, Ba. What example have I set? They’ve killed me, Ba. No, it’s not that gun at Birla House, you understand, they’ve killed me by forgetting what I have always believed in.”

Kasturba reverted to her spinning. She knew that once her husband fell into an introspective mood, there was no stopping him. She tried to console him. “After all, they are adults. They are bound to come to their senses. Or the people will punish them for it.”

“I hope you are right, Ba,” said Gandhi, after a moment’s pause.“I have always said, public opinion alone can keep a society pure and healthy. The average Indian does not believe in this madness, this burning of places of worship, this burning of men and children. Finally, I know, a nation’s culture resides in the hearts and in the soul of itspeople.”

Kasturba nodded her head absentmindedly. Her thoughts drifted to the kichdi for lunch. Must get it ready, she thought to herself. That’s when her husband hurled a question at her.

“Tell me, Ba, what does religion signify to you?”

She sighed. There was just no getting away. “Now you want me to answer your riddles!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “You have known me all these years as a God-fearing woman. I have kept the fasts, followed the Vaishnava faith, read the Ramayana…”

Yes, that I know. I too have tried to live by the tenets of the Gita. But the question I’m asking is: what does religion signify to you?” asked Kasturba’s incorrigible husband.

“Go on. Answer that question yourself. Don’t I know you? You ask questions so that you can expound on the answer thereafter,” said Kasturba wryly.Her husband’s creased face cracked into a toothless grin. “My Ba, how well you know me. But, yes, for me any religion without a moral basis ceases to be a religion. There is no such thing asreligion over-riding morality. I reject any religious doctrine that is in conflict with morality.”“Another bhashan, Bapu. Why is your mind so restless? They are grown men down there. Let them realise this for themselves,” said Kasturba.

“But Ba, why don’t you understand! It is these grown men who are unleashing violence on others. It has always been a mystery to me how men can feel themselves honoured by the humiliation of their fellow beings.”

Kasturba now began to seriously worry about her husband’s blood pressure. “Calm down, Bapu. Everything will be all right, calm down,”she said.But there was no stopping the old man. “They claim that it is because of Christian missionaries that they behave like this. This I cannot agree with. Remember what I once told you, Ba? I do not want my hose to be walled in on all sides and my windows to be stuffed. I want the cultures of all the lands to be blown about my house as freely as possible. But I refuse to be blown off my feet by any. Do you remember that,Ba?”

Kasturba nodded. She remember the faces, some brown, some black, some white; some Jewish, some Mohammedan, some Christian, many Hindu. People from every corner of the world, who professed to various faiths, visited their home freely, whether it was in South Africa or India.

“You know what I would like to tell them down there, Ba?” continued Gandhi, still in deep anguish, “I’d like to tell them that if they want to cultivate the true spirit of democracy they cannot be intolerant. Just keeping a fast in my name means nothing.”