Last week, Rollins enjoyed a visit from Mr. Arun
Gandhi, the grandson of Mohandas Gandhi, the man who made non-violent
resistance world famous. I’ve often
thought that Mohandas Gandhi would have been a good candidate for a “man of the century”
award, but, when I googled this phrase, I discovered
that Time Magazine had named Albert Einstein the Man of the Century in 1999. Einstein is also a worthy choice, but I was
pleased to see that Gandhi was listed by Time as a runner-up.
Arun Gandhi keeps up the work of his influential
grandfather though, as he is quick to point out, he does not maintain the
ascetic lifestyle of the Mahatma. He
spoke to the campus on Wednesday evening in the Knowles Chapel. The crowd who came to hear him filled the
chapel such that a video feed had to be set up in the Tiedtke Auditorium to
accommodate the spillover audience.
He had a number of interesting stories about his
grandfather as well as about his grandmother who, it turns out, was near to
being saintly in her own right, given the demands of the Mahatma’s austere and
single-minded life.
Gandhi used to sell
his autograph for five dollars apiece as a way to raise money for his cause. When he was about twelve, young Arun had made
up his mind to get his grandfather’s autograph without paying the “fee.” His struggle went on for months, and involved
him interfering in his grandfather’s important meetings always with the hope that
the Mahatma would give up and in exasperation offer a free autograph to his
grandson just to end the nuisance. It
didn’t work. And tellingly, Gandhi’s
unyielding intransigence did not involve any sort of physical punishment or
harsh verbal scolding. The worst that
happened to the boy was that when his grandfather was busy in a discussion with
colleagues, if Arun showed up with his autograph book, the Mahatma would put
his hand over the boy’s mouth and hold his head to his breast to keep him
still. But of free autographs, there
were none, not even for beloved grandchildren.
At a later discussion, Mr. Gandhi recounted an
incident when he talked Jawaharlal Nehru (who was destined to be India’s first
prime minister) into making him an omelet by claiming that he ate eggs –
something Mahatma Gandhi did not do.
When his grandfather found out, he questioned the boy’s parents about
eating eggs. “No,” they said, “we do not
eat eggs in our household.” So later
when Gandhi was together with his son and grandson he asked, “Now which one of
you is telling the truth? Arun, you told Mr. Nehru that you eat eggs, but your
father says no eggs are eaten in your household.”
“Well,” replied Arun, “we eat cakes in our house,
and I don’t believe you can make cakes without eggs.” At this the Mahatma laughed and said, “Yes,
you will make a fine lawyer someday.”
I had the honor of driving Mr. Gandhi to the airport
at the conclusion of his visit. On the
way there he talked about Gandhi’s idea that people should not have
enemies. “As soon as you see someone as
an enemy,” said Arun, “you dehumanize them.”
I was also interested to hear him talk about the rivalry
between north Indians and south Indians that even finds expression in
communities here in the United States.
North Indians prefer statues of deities made of white marble, while
south Indians prefer black marble. In
fact, there is no religious reason to prefer one over the other, but sometimes
communities break apart over this issue and set up separate Hindu temples just because
they’re being “cussed.”
I loved hearing Mr. Gandhi use the word “cussed,”
which I don’t believe I’ve known anyone to utter since about 1958.
When I asked him about Richard Attenborough’s film Gandhi, he said that he thought it did a
very good job of portraying his grandfather’s philosophy and personality. Some people criticized the film, he said,
because it didn’t give adequate credit to Mr. Nehru and other leaders who
worked alongside Mahatma Gandhi for the independence of India. But, after all, he added, it was a film about Gandhi,
so this kind of distortion is to be expected.
When I asked if he and his grandfather appreciated
satire, Arun said, yes, if it was appropriately aimed and not too bitter. His grandfather, he insisted, had a terrific
sense of humor.
When I finally said good-bye to him at the
airport, I encouraged him to come back and spend more time at Rollins, and I
was glad to see that his response suggested that he just might.
The following morning, I bragged a little to my
class about having had the honor of taking Mr. Gandhi to the airport. They were duly impressed. Then I told them that we got into an argument
over my driving that resulted in fisticuffs, at which they laughed. They knew I was joking; not even I could be
that cussed.
With Mr. Arun Gandhi at the Knowles Chapel
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