A letter to Mohandas.
Priya Mohan Das, by the time I was born, luckily or unfortunately you were murdered. So I never got to see you. I don't even believe that if you're alive I'm still looking at you. Still without any reason about you, I've read a lot. There are people in our town who made long speeches about you so that I can sleep well. In a few days of the year, we all remember you without any opinion about you. There is also a park with your name in our town. Those who tried to tear the glasses of your statue there had cut your ears too. The crows were always sitting on your head because you didn't have a stick in that statue. I remember the owls who ruled on your ideal and your fame. You are a ghost for sixty sixties of abbepari like us. Whatever your present is, only through the pages of history. Even when I was walking on your road after coming to Bangalore, I didn't remember that it was your road. There were people who were dressed like you. We don't remember your Panchasheela non-violence, truth, asset, Brahmacharya and non-planet. The pose you sit on, the shirt you never wear, the hat you gave your name, the coffee you boycotted will be remembered by the helpless movement you taught. I'm with myself still doing it carefully. It's still not meaningful whether the one who killed you is right or wrong. But he didn't stab you from the back like you trusted. You walked, spoke, wrote, honest but you would die if you didn't kill the wall. Such an atmosphere we have all created together. Those who were in jail with you are coming out of there using your friendship, your name, power formula, developing their property, status and are going to jail again. There was a circle perfected. Jail - Power - Corruption - Jail. This is our fifty years achievement. Meanwhile many Gandhi came: more popular than you. One or two killed like you murdered. We have mocked 'Gandhiiklas' for your simplicity. What have we done in thy name? The Hokka of the palace. Laughing. We ate and drank. After all, it was a steep hike. That is what you have taught us; At least for some people. We know firsthand that you are crying too. Our wise men said, "I will remember the sins you have done in secret." They are like Buddha, fashioned like Allamana. They used your writings as arguments. Putting up your image, you started talking. The funny thing is, you went universal and became a model for a thief, a patriot, a deceiver, a diligent, a traveler, a luxury, a saint, an infant, a monster. Wanted. They all admired you. Your contracting was not possible, nor was there any contradiction in you. The reason why they can all be understood. It is not our question how you, as a trader, have achieved all this. You were pushed by the train and the leader in South Africa did not startle us. We are not concerned about your monastery, your mistreatment of your wife, or your neglect of your children. It's all about the kind of people you call Mahatma. Our only allegation is that you didn't love your country as deeply as you loved it. If you loved, you would hold the helm of the country as Prime Minister. Put the cloak of freedom in your hands. You've got your way. This country has seen you as the road to truth. We have all seen you standing on either side of your path. You did not teach us what you learned. It was not taught that we should atone for sins. The chair, though confronted, did not give it the understanding, the courage to resist it. You alone are the path of infinity. Nonviolence, Peace, Sahanou Bhunaktu. That's all you did. It would have been better for those who came after you. But they also taught us everything they learned. You know what they've learned. You have not taught the art of nepotism, corruption, frivolity, and mischief. He taught you what not to teach. Or is it something that we have learned more about ourselves? Ayya Gandhi, though, we should not save much. You didn't do that. That said. We are all Abbas. We believe that the truth is victory. But we don't know what is true and what is false. And thou hast delivered the captivity of the alien. The challenge of solitary confinement was not before you. Now we have no dream, no function, no freedom. You went to the synagogue and went out forever. But, we are not. There is no one who kills like us. You are a martyr. We are as well. Waiting for another great man! yours Faithfully (A 1994 letter) Credit: - from Jogi's