Our Bapu [On Hold]

Hari Learns About Gandhiji

    

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A/N hookah is a water pipe smoked in the East. 

Gautama Buddha is a great Indian prophet who preached love and non-violence.

Bapu is an affectionate term meaning father.

Khadi is hand-spun and hand-woven cloth.

Dhoti is a long piece of cloth which many Indians wear instead of trousers.

Chadar is a shawl wrapped around the shoulders.

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     It was six in the morning when Hari returned home. He found the house very quite. His father was not at his hookah, nor was his mother cooking in the kitchen. The silence and the stillness threatened him. He looked for his mother all over the house and at last found her sitting in a corner and sobbing.

     Hari had never seen his mother in tears before. And when he saw her crying, he too burst into tears. After a little while, he asked his mother in a voice that was choked with tears: "Whatever is the matter, mother? Why are you crying?" Hari's heart skipped a beat, as she spoke in slow, broken words: "Gandhi... Gandhiji... is dead." "How did it happen, mother? Only yesterday father took me to his prayer meeting! And I went up to him and touched his feet. He stroked my cheek tenderly and said, 'Well, son, I hope you are not being rowdy and naughty anymore?' Mother, only yesterday he was quite hale and healthy." But at these words, his mother cried even more bitterly than before. With sobs and tears, Hari asked again, "But how did it happen, mother? How did Gandhiji pass away?"

     "How shall I tell you, my child? A mad man shot him dead yesterday. Our beloved Gandhiji was killed."

     "But, mother, Gandhiji could not have harmed that man in any way! He was good, so very good!"

     "Yes, my child. This is a strange world, and those who are truthful and love God are not liked by many. Truth is bitter and very few can bear to be told which is not pleasant."

     Hari could control himself no longer. He flew into a rage and shouted: "Just let me have father's gun, mother, and I shall kill the rascal who killed our Gandhiji!!!!!"

     "No, no, my child," said his mother, "you musn't do any such thing!! That would be very wrong!! Gandhiji has taught us that it is a sin to kill. You saw him and met him, Hari, but, I fear, you have hardly understood him. Let me tell you something about him. You may be surprised to know that as a child was no different from you or from any other common child. But as he grew up, he strove to reach the heights of greatness. By love and service alone he became a saint as great as Gautama Buddha. Our country has never had a truer servant, yet he was it's uncrowned king as well. He reigned over the hearts of over four hundred million men and women. And men and women not merely bowed before him and paid him homage, they loved him from the bottom of their hearts. From the richest man in the country down to the poorest beggar, everyone looked upon Gandhiji as a father, and called him Bapu. For his heart grieved with others in their sorrow and rejoiced with them in their happiness. His love of the poor was boundless. In fact, he himself lived like any other poor man in the country, wearing only a khadi dhoti and a khadi chadar. He drank goat's milk and lived on boiled vegetables. He was, indeed, a very great saint."

     "And, mother, how fond Gandhiji was of little children! How he used to joke with them, and take them out for long walks! In the company of children, he would himself become a child! Mother, do tell me the life story of Gandhiji! The whole story!!!"

     "Very well, my son. I shall try to tell you something of Bapu's life-story. I'm not working in the kitchen today, for who can think of a meal tonight? Your father has gone to our neighbour's house to listen in to the radio for more news. In the meantime, I shall tell you the story of Bapu's life."

     And then Hari's mother began to narrate the life-story of Bapu...