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The Dying Of The Light - Pramod

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The Dying Of The Light | Pramod Kapoor

Part of the Gandhi series. Watercolour.

Atul Dodiya Fasting in Rajkot

“I wanted to depict an old, frail man in his last days and yet show his strength as a

leader—of subscribing to an entirely different method of resistance to protest

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against the violence and the injustice of British rule.”

excerpt

The Dying Of The Light

A new biography of the Mahatma explores hidden facets of his life. A section from

the first chapter, ‘The Final Hours’.

MY EXPERIMENT WITH GANDHI

BY

PRAMOD KAPOOR

ROLI BOOKS | PAGES: 512 | RS. 595

There is a widespread belief that living saints are given some intimation of their

own mortality. Mahatma Gandhi often talked about living to 125 years or more, like

some Hindu seers had done, but on January 29, a day before his assassination,

Gandhi was unusually eloquent about mortality and his own death. On that day,

members of the Nehru family had arrived at Birla Bhavan around lunchtime. They

included Krishna Hutheesing, Jawaharlal’s sister, his daughter Indira with her four-

year-old son, Rajiv, as well as Sarojini Naidu, the nationalist leader. They headed

straight for the garden where Gandhi was basking in the sun wearing a Noakhali

hat. Looking up at the approaching group, all wearing bright coloured saris, he

greeted them, saying: “So, the princesses have come to see me.” In winter, Gandhi

liked to enjoy his frugal lunch, mashed fruits and goat’s milk, in the open garden at

Birla Bhavan, where he always stayed when in the capital and where he held his

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daily evening prayer meetings. Recalls Nehru’s sister, Krishna Hutheesing: “Gandhi

looked exceedingly well that day; his bare brown body was absolutely glowing.

This was because, even during his fasts, he took very good care of himself; for he

had high blood pressure and used to have mud packs on his head and an oil

massage to keep his strength up…. We sat in the sunshine talking. He teased me

about my lecture tour, asked about my husband Raja and the children and we

gossiped, nothing serious, just gay, idle family chatter.” Rajiv picked up some

flowers that visitors had brought for the Mahatma, and started placing them around

Gandhi’s feet at which Gandhi playfully pulled the young boy’s ear, and said, “You

must not do that. One only puts flowers around dead people’s feet.”

Rajiv picked up some flowers and placed them around Gandhi’s feet, at which the

Mahatma playfully pulled his ears and said, “Don’t do that. One only puts flowers

around dead people’s feet.” An hour later, Margaret Bourke-White, the famous

American photographer for Life magazine, arrived for an interview. It would turn

out to be the last he gave. One of the questions she asked was: “Do you stick to

your desire to live to the age of 125 years?” to which Gandhi replied “I have lost

that hope because of the terrible happenings in the world. I don’t want to live in

darkness.” She was followed by a group of villagers from Bannu who had been

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involved in a communal attack and rendered homeless. One agitated member of

the group shouted at Gandhi: “You have done enough harm. You have ruined us

utterly. Leave us alone and take your abode in the Himalayas.” That evening, while

walking to his prayer meeting he confided to his grand-niece Manuben: “The pitiful

cries of these people is like the voice of God. Take this as a death warrant for you

and me.” While speaking at the prayer meeting, the angry words of the refugee

was still playing on his mind. He declared: “I have become what I have become at

the bidding of God. God will do what he wills. He may take me away. I shall not find

peace in the Himalayas. I want to find peace in the midst of turmoil or I want to die

in the turmoil.” Again, before going to bed, he repeated this thought to his long-

term associate Brij Krishna Chandiwala: “You should take that as a notice served on

me.”

Finally, there was this; an uncharacteristic outburst of anger at having to take some

penicillin pills that his doctor had left for him to cure a bad cough he had

developed. “If I were to die of disease or even a pimple, you must shout to the

world from the house tops, that I was a false Mahatma. Then my soul, wherever it

may be, will rest in peace. But if an explosion took place or somebody shot at me

and I received his bullets on my bare chest, without a sigh and with Rama’s name

on my lips, only then you should say I was a true Mahatma.” If this was a

premonition, it was so eerily accurate as to be almost prophetic. Just a few hours

earlier, Manuben, one of his “walking sticks” as he called her, had excused herself

to go and look for powdered cloves that Gandhi took with jaggery to relieve his

cough. Gandhi. who did not like his routine to be disturbed, remarked: “Who knows

what is going to happen before nightfall or even whether I shall be alive?” Then, at

4 pm on January 30, his last day on earth, two leaders from his home state,

Kathiawar, had arrived unannounced while Gandhi was in a crucial meeting with

Sardar Patel. On being informed of their desire to see him, Gandhi said, “Tell them

that I will see them, but only after the prayer meeting and that too if I am alive.”

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Gandhi was approaching his 80th year, and was frail and unwell, having just ended

one of his famous fasts, and the communal killings and ongoing tension had taxed

him to the limit. On January 30, Gandhi had awoken at 3:30 am, unusually

disturbed with the ‘darkness’ that had surrounded him, not just the killings but also

the infighting in the Congress that he had helped build, with the growing chasm

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between Nehru and Sardar Patel. There was even a growing chorus for the

Mahatma to withdraw to the Himalayas rather than face the post-Partition

paroxysms and hostility from right-wing elements who were angered by his secular

stand, especially what they saw as a soft line on Pakistan. He, however, knew that

this was when India needed him the most. He had a long and busy day ahead. It

would also be his last and it is possible he realised how much he still had to

achieve. At 3:45 am, he surprisingly asked for a rendition of a Gujarati bhajan:

“Thake na thake chhatayen hon/Manavi na leje visramo,Ne jhoojhaje ekal

bayen/Ho manavi, na leje visramo (Whether tired or not, O man do not take rest,

stop not, your struggle, if single-handed, continues.)” Shortly after, he started to

work on revising the draft constitution for the reorganisation of the Congress party

which he had started work on the previous night. It would be, in a sense, his last

will and testament, his vision for the nation. It would also be the last thing he wrote.

Photograph by Getty Images, From Outlook 03 February 2014

His body was covered with a white khadi cloth…then covered with flowers, except

for the chest. “I asked for the chest to be left bare. No soldier ever had a finer

chest than Bapu’s,” said Devdas. Ominously enough, as Gandhi was writing his

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treatise on the Congress, Nathuram Godse was also finishing the last thing he

would ever write, his own last will and testament. The letter was addressed to his

co-conspirator, Narayan Apte, and stated, “My mental condition is inflamed in the

extreme, so that it has become impossible to find out any reliable way out of the

political atmosphere. I have therefore decided for myself to adopt a last and

extreme step. You will of course know it in a day or two. I have decided to do what

I want without depending on anyone else.” Gandhi’s military-like routine made it

easier for him to carry out “the extreme step”.

On January 30, Gandhi woke early, as was customary for morning prayers which

was held in the verandah outside his bedroom where he used to sleep with his

inner circle, Manu and grand niece Abha, his two ‘walking sticks’, and Brij Krishna

Chandiwala. Feeling unwell from the after-effects of his recent fast, Gandhi walked

with the help of Manu and Abha to the inner room where he was given lemon and

honey soaked in hot water followed by a 16 oz glass of sweet lime juice. After

about an hour, he fell asleep, unusual for him. He awoke before 7 am to receive

Mrs Rajan Nehru, wife of Jawaharlal’s nephew, R.K. Nehru, who was leaving for

America that day. Normally, Gandhi would take a brisk walk outdoors before

settling down to receive visitors and work on his papers but being under the

weather, he did not feel well enough to perform his outdoor morning exercise.

At 8 am, it was time for his morning massage, during which he made some last

minute corrections to the draft of the new constitution for the Congress before

handing it over to his trusted secretary, Pyarelal, to give it a final look before

forwarding it to the party headquarters. Then it was time for his daily Bengali

lessons, both written and spoken, which he took from his grandniece Abha Gandhi.

Having learnt nine different Indian languages, both written and spoken, Gandhi was

determined to master Bengali. This day, his last day on earth, he did not deviate

much from the routine he had set for himself. His morning bath was accompanied

by a check on his weight, which, that morning, was 109.5 lbs. Those in the inner

circle remember that last day vividly, perhaps because of the tragedy that it would

end in, and they recall that the bath seemed to have refreshed Gandhi and given

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him greater energy, having been so ill and tired-looking for the past few days. He

even showed a healthy appetite for breakfast, which consisted of exactly 12 ounces

of goat’s milk, a cup of boiled vegetables with radishes and ripe tomatoes, as well

as a glass each of orange and carrot juice. This was usually followed by a medicinal

concoction of ginger, sour lime and aloe vera.

Photograph by Henri Cartier-Bresson/Magnum

A famed photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson of Nehru announcing the news of

Gandhi’s assassination. “The light has gone out of our lives,” he said, in a phrase

now forever welded to the death of the Mahatma. After resting for a while, Gandhi

got up on his own and started to walk towards the bathroom. It was a strange sight

for Manu who said, “Bapu, how strange you look?” a reference to the fact that he

had not gone anywhere recently without his ‘walking sticks’. Gandhi responded,

quoting Rabindranath Tagore: “Ekla chalo, ekla chalo (Walk alone, walk alone)”.

The last lonely walk he would take had begun. Gandhi had his usual mudpack at

1:30 in the afternoon and soon after received the well-known French photographer

Henri Cartier Bresson who had come with an album of his photographs as a

present. His last but possibly the most important meeting of the day was with

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Sardar Patel, which started, as scheduled, at 4 pm. Patel came with his daughter

Maniben who doubled as his personal secretary. Although the meeting was to sort

out differences between Nehru and Patel, Gandhi started the conversation with the

affairs of Kathiawar, his own home state, where his father Karamchand had once

served as dewan.

Gandhi and Patel shared a very close, warm relationship based on mutual respect.

Both had sacrificed much for the sake of independence but they also had their

differences. Only a few days earlier, Patel had spoken to Gandhi in harsh and bitter

tones on the issue of transferring `55 crore to Pakistan. Gandhi was so distraught

that he broke down and cried. Despite the opposition from stalwarts like Patel, the

Union cabinet later passed a resolution to transfer the money, under pressure from

Gandhi, a decision that had so angered Patel that he had offered to resign. At their

last meeting on January 30, neither of the two had any inkling that an hour later,

Gandhi would be breathing his last. The meeting was an attempt to repair damaged

relationships, between Nehru and Patel but also between Patel and Gandhi. Just a

few days earlier, Gandhi had counselled Patel and Nehru that one of them should

withdraw from the cabinet for it to function smoothly. Later, he realised that the

country needed the political wisdom of both Nehru and Patel, a view shared by the

last viceroy, Lord Mountbatten, who had requested Gandhi to try and persuade

Patel to continue to work together with Nehru for the sake of the country.

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As was his style, Gandhi continued to use his spinning wheel while talking to Patel.

He informed Patel that he would highlight the issue of unity in his post-prayer

speech and also told him that he was meeting Nehru and Azad to discuss the issue

after the prayer meeting that evening. He declared that he would not leave Delhi

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until the matter of unity between Nehru and Patel was settled. While Patel was still

with him, Gandhi had his last meal, 14 ounces of goat’s milk, a similar amount of

vegetable soup and three oranges. It was now 4:30 pm and the issue was still

unresolved. It was agreed that the three of them would meet the next day. He had

still not left for his prayer meeting which started punctually at 5 pm. Gandhi hated

to be late for anything. It was close to 5 pm but the discussion with Patel had

become so intense that no one dare disturb the two. Abha and Manu, as also

Maniben, Patel’s daughter, were getting uncomfortable at the delay. Abha, in

desperation, picked up Gandhi’s pocket watch and tried to show it to him but so

engrossed were the two that nothing registered. Finally, Manibehn plucked up her

courage and interrupted them. “It’s ten past five,” she announced. “I must tear

myself away,” was how Gandhi bade his final goodbye to Patel. Those would be his

last words, apart from that which escaped his lips before he breathed his last, a few

minutes later.

Photograph by Getty Images, From Outlook 03 February 2014

“If I were to die of disease or even a pimple, you must shout to the world from the

house tops that I was a false Mahatma…. But if somebody shot at me and I took his

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bullets in my bare chest…” Since he was running late Gandhi took a short cut,

walked briskly, faster than normal, to the waiting crowd and assassin. Standing in

front, wearing a military-style khaki dress, was Godse who greeted Gandhi with

folded hands, hands that had a Beretta automatic pistol hidden between the palms.

Gandhi returned his greetings and that would be his last act on earth. Godse fired

three bullets into Gandhi, who fell with folded hands and “Hey Ram” on his lips. His

body crumpled and Manu held him up in her lap. While some around him froze,

others ran in panic. The enormity of the incident had still to sink in on anyone,

except for Godse. The assassin did not try to flee. In the melee, no one had really

noticed the man who had fired the fatal shots. One man who did was Herbert ‘Tom’

Reiner Jr, a diplomat who had just joined the US Foreign Service. New Delhi was

his first posting and, after arriving, he wrote to his mother, expressing his wish to

meet Gandhi and attend one of his prayer meetings. On January 30, he left the

embassy and arrived at Birla Bhavan, to hear Gandhi speak. He was standing in the

front row when Godse brushed past him and fired the fatal shots. Reiner

immediately seized Godse and held him till the police arrived. Reiner would later

recount his actions: “People were standing as though paralysed. I moved around

them, grasped his (Godse’s) shoulders, and spun him around, then took a firmer

grip of his shoulders.” Most newspaper and wire reports on the assassination

merely referred to ‘an American diplomat’ and Reiner’s name only appeared in

some American newspapers at the time.

Even as Godse was being apprehended, Gandhi’s blood was spreading across the

white shawl, made of Australian wool but spun by him. The pocket watch that he

wore was shattered. It stood frozen at 5:17. His closest aides, Manu, Abha,

Chandiwala and Pyarelal were in complete shock. A young lady doctor from Lady

Harding Medical College, a close friend of Dr Sushila Nayar, Pyarelal’s sister, took

over and placed Gandhi’s head on her lap. The body was quivering and still warm,

the eyes half shut. She did not have the courage to announce his death, but she

could tell he was no more. The news of the assassination spread like wildfire. Patel,

who had barely reached his home after meeting Gandhi, rushed back to Birla

Bhavan with his daughter. He took Gandhi’s wrist, hoping to find some sign of life.

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Finally, it was left to Dr B.P. Bhargava, a close friend of Gandhi’s aides present at

the prayer meeting, to pronounce that Gandhi had been “dead for 10 minutes”.

The women gathered burst out wailing and weeping, grown men cried aloud. Patel

stood ashen, unable to take in the enormity of the tragedy. Later, he would say:

“Others could weep and find relief from their grief in tears, I could not do that. But

it reduced my brain to pulp.” Maniben, his daughter, composed herself and asked

the girls to join her in reciting the Gita. The sound of “Patita pavan Sita Ram…” rang

out, punctuated by wails, as the crowds started swelling. Devdas arrived with his

youngest son Gopal. He took his father’s hand in his and bending his head next to

Gandhi’s ears he cried, “Bapu, say something.” The wailing had become

uncontrollable. Next to arrive was Nehru, who buried his face into the blood-

soaked clothes and cried like a baby. Patel tried to console him, patting his back.

Nehru embraced Patel and sobbed uncontrollably. It was an unusual sight. The

country’s prime minister and home minister acting like sons who had lost a

beloved father. Lord Mountbatten was next to arrive. With thousands clogging the

gates of Birla Bhavan, he could barely find a way to get in. “It was a Muslim who

murdered him,” shouted an angry young man. “You fool,” retorted Mountbatten

with his usual presence of mind, “it was a Hindu”, for he knew that if it was indeed

a Muslim, the country would witness another bloodbath, this time of unimaginable

magnitude. Only later did he get to know that it was a Brahmin who had killed

Gandhi.

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Photograph by Corbis, From Outlook 03 February 2014

Godse wrote to his co-conspirator Narayan Apte: “My mental condition is inflamed

in the extreme. I have therefore decided to adopt a last and extreme step. You will

know it in a day or two.” Seeing Nehru and Patel in complete shock and grief,

Mountbatten quickly took charge of the situation. Taking Nehru by the hand, he

took him to Patel and whispered that Gandhi’s last request to him was to bring the

two of them together. Almost instantly the two stalwarts broke down and embraced

each other again. Grief had repaired what endless negotiations and go-betweens

had failed to do. Gandhi had planned this reunion for the next day but had not lived

to see it happen. That evening both Nehru and Patel addressed the nation over All

India Radio. “The light has gone out of our lives…” said Nehru, in a phrase that

would become interspersed forever with Gandhi’s death. A distraught Patel,

generally a man of few words, managed to say: “My heart is aching…my tongue is

tied…the occasion demands not anger but earnest heart searching from us….”

Someone suggested that Gandhi’s body be embalmed and kept in state for

national and international dignitaries to pay their final homage. However, Pyarelal

made it known that Gandhi was against this and had categorically told him “even in

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my death, I will chide you if you fail in your duty”. After much deliberation, Gandhi’s

body was taken to the first floor balcony for his countrymen to have a final

‘darshan’ of their departed leader. At one point, distraught and completely lost,

Nehru mentioned to Manu, “Let’s go and ask Bapu what arrangements must be

made….” Everyone present burst into tears. At about 2 am, Gandhi’s body was

brought down and given the last ritualistic bath by the family with water brought

from the river Jamuna. As Devdas removed Gandhi’s clothes one by one, those

present could see three clear bullet marks, the first one on the right side of the

abdomen two and half inches above the navel, the second, an inch to the right and

the third, the most fatal one, had made a hole an inch above the right nipple. The

first two bullets pierced the frail body and came out of the back. While bathing the

body, these two bullets were found lodged in the shawl. The third one was

embedded in the lungs. It was found 27 hours later, when the ashes were being

gathered from the cold pyre.

Gandhi would often say, “Death is a celebration…. The body falls and the bird

within it flies away. So long as the bird doesn’t die, the question of grief should not

arise.” Emotions continued to run high as the group cleaned the blood from the

body to prepare it for the final journey. The rosary that had fallen from Manu’s hand

when Gandhi was shot was placed around his neck and so was a special garland

made of handspun khadi. A red tilak was put on the forehead and sandalwood

paste applied all over his body. Using flowers and leaves, the words ‘Hey Ram’ was

fashioned near his head and ‘Om’ near his feet. His body was covered with a white

khadi cloth, possibly spun by Gandhi himself. The body was then covered with

flowers and rose petals, except for the chest. “I asked for the chest to be left bare.

No soldier ever had a finer chest than Bapu’s,” said Devdas. The room was soon

filled with the fragrance of flowers, smoke from the incense sticks and the sound of

Gandhi’s favourite hymns. At one point, Nehru came to Manu and said, “Sing

louder…who knows Bapu may wake up.” By now, thousands of people had surged

towards Birla Bhavan, in the heart of Lutyens Delhi, to have a last darshan of their

beloved Bapu. The body was once again placed on the balcony for them to view. It

was brought down the next morning, draped in newly independent India’s tricolor,

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and placed on a gun carriage decorated with flowers. Two hundred hand-picked

men from the Indian army, navy and air force pulled the vehicle manually, with

ropes. Nehru, Patel and close family members sat next to the dead body.

Gandhi would often say that “Death is a celebration…death is God’s eternal

blessing. The body falls and the bird within it flies away. So long as the bird does

not die, the question of grief should not arise.” As the funeral pyre was lit and the

world mourned the passing of the Apostle of Peace, the bird within was released

into eternity.

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