Ch4- The passing away of Bapu
I was having tea at home on the evening of 30th January, 1948,when I was called to Birla house by an urgent telephome. Gandhiji had been shot on his way to a prayer meeting. I was numb with shock as I got into the car.
At the Birla House, Gandhijis relatives and followers had gathered round his body. There was silence in the room as Gandhiji breathed his last. Words of Bapujis death had spread through Delhi like a flame fanned by wing. Sad groups of men and women had collected around Birla House. Out of every window one could see a brown blur of faces. They did not make a sound. There was an unnatural silence. It was as if time stood still for those few minutes.
The people were too stunned to speak in thr beginning. Later they clamoured widly, shouting and crying. They jostled one another in a stampede to break into the house. They calmed a little when it was announced that they would be allowed to see Gandhiji before the funeral.
When one is faced with the shock of a loved one's death, one whimpers: "What will become of me now that he has left me?" This was surely the question uppermost in the mind of the mourning people. They looked like lost children. It was the question in many of our heart's as we sat, still shocked and unbelieving. We listened to the broadcast telling the people of India that there Bapu was no more.
Gandhijis funeral was to take place day after his death. Hours in advance, people lined the route the funeral procession was to follow. Padmasi, Mrs Naidus daughter, spoke for us all when she saod simply : we will walk. It is the last time we shall be walking with Bapu.
It was an anonizing walk. Thousands silently watched the procession. Bapu lay on an open truck covered with flowers. Thousands of people wept, typing to touch Bapu's feet. It was impossible to move in the thick crowd.
As i moved forward slowly I understood I was not merely in the midst of grieving people. This was even more than the funeral I procession of India's beloved leader. I was among people for whom walking with Bapu had a apecial meaning. We had walked with Bapu over the rough and smooth of India's recent historyv. We could not now accept the fact that the man who had led us over many difficult paths, was never going to walk with us again. Bapu's slight figure had walked, staff in hand,over a large part of India. To walk is to make slow progress. It is to think with clarity and closely look at all that is around you, frombsmall insects to the average Indian. It required no vehicle except his own body and cost him nothing but his energy. Gandhiji took this neceaaity, as he took that was commonplace and transformed intoba joydul effort.
Some days after the funeral, a special train took Gandhiji's presence amid the flowers and the songs. At every station sorrowful crowds filled the platform. Amid song and prayet the train reached allahabad. The ashes were immersed in the Ganges where a huge crowd had gatheredbat thr bank. Afterwards we all went back to Delhi.
Back in Delhi, I felt at sea. I had not directly walked with Gandhiji, gone to prison at his call or made any sacrifice for my country. My sister and i and other young people like me, had been merely onlookers. But still i felt at sea. I felt I had grown up within a magic circle. With Bapu's passing away, I felt the magic circle had vanished, leaving me unprotected.
With an efforts I roused myself. I asked myself -had Bapu lived and died for nothing? How could I easily lose courage when he was no longer thete? My values were not so weak. Millions of people would have been ordinary flok buy for Bapu. He brought them out of indifference and awakened them to one another's suffering. What if now Bapu is gone? We were still there, young, strong and proud to bearbhis banner before us.
Bapu has passed away but his India would continue to live in his children.