Everyday Gandhi

By Allan Anton Andrew

The Father of our great Nation was at the forefront of innumerable events which ultimately culminated in the country gaining freedom. Reflections of many of them are all around us and are discernable if only we choose to see them. Apurva, our protagonist, a girl born in the early 2000s, would begin to see them in the harder of ways, after her grandfather, a widower and a retired district judge shared with her stories of his days serving the office, and also his opinions and take on things small and large. Apurva’s parents, a banker father Ravi and a housewife mother Kajal had been surprised at how both she and her grandfather had taken to discussing matters of public import with great simplicity and clarity, something which Apurva’s elder brother Rohan, could never muster either the patience or the curiosity for.

This manifested itself first when Apurva was hardly six years old. Her Dadaji (Paternal Grandfather), or Daaji, as she called him, was nearing the end of a long and proud tenure in the judicial services. One summer when his and his grandchildren’s holidays coincided, he was in his garden, enjoying a cool drink, whiling away his troubled thoughts one at a time, while both Apurva and Rohan scampered around the garden in a game that neither had rules nor needed scoring or winning. The intention was simply to have fun and expend energy. When they’d had had just about enough running and jumping about to warrant a break, Rohan announced that he was going to immerse himself in his hand held PlayStation; while Apurva was free to do the same or laze in front of the television or pick up the comic book from where she had left off, she decided to plonk herself down in front of Daaji and probe him with why he wasn’t ‘doing anything’ except sit and occasionally take a sip of the iced drink that wasn’t sweet.

“What are you doing, Daaji?”, she asked.

“Thinking, child.’, he broke away from his thoughts and smiled at her, “Right now I’m thinking why a tiny creature as you would stop enjoying summer break and give me company. But since you ask, I wonder why people do terrible things and if they did think of consequences, why still go through with it.”

Apurva knew Daaji was a judge, but what that meant was limited to that of sending thieves to jail after the police caught them. She had only recently seen just enough tv to comprehend that people killed other people and they were also sent to jail. Maybe that was it, and she asked.

“You mean killing?”, perturbing Daaji a little, who wasn’t expecting concepts like murder to be present in this young mind unweighted by the world beyond her surroundings.

Apurva’s grandfather had presided over many a criminal trial, quite a few of them for murders, riots, lynching. He looked into the clear, brimming-with-life eyes of his granddaughter, “Yes. Killing, and worse.” Registering the confusion and disbelief apparent in the inexperienced eyes, continued, “Some people do more than kill others. Some do worse. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“But I am old enough. I can read full sentences, and even write cursive better than any of my classmates”, Apurva insisted.

Daaji chuckled at innocent insistence, and replied, “You would make a great lawyer. Meanwhile let Daaji worry about why the good are simply cast aside.”

“Just as you cast me aside saying I’m not old enough to understand. I’ll sit right here and badger you till you tell me.”, Apurva was getting more and more determined, not comprehending how adults see the world and how not all problems could be worked away in an afternoon.

“And if I still don’t talk, what would you do then?”, asked Daaji, pretending to be sterner, and straightened himself in his chair. Many an experienced advocate of the Bar had shriveled up when he did so, some even found they had lost their voice, but this young one was resolute, and Daaji saw a glimmer in her eyes which made him reflect on the might of an entire people’s movement, perhaps the most famous one, which through its simplicity had managed to bring the largest, most powerful imperial force in history to its knees and to the table of negotiations.

“I think we’re both right. I believe more now that you would be a great lawyer someday. You too are right believing you could sit here till forever and your poor Daaji will come round. Lets call a truce. Go play, or whatever mischiefs you fancy, and I’ll keep aside my troubles for us to go through over another day. Deal?”

“No!”, the little one was adamant. She wouldn’t let Daaji get away this easily, especially now that she thought he had admitted that something was troubling him indeed.

“Hey! Don’t go non-cooperative on me. Even your father never could manage that, and here you are, little devil being unfair to an old man with a grey moustache.” Daaji grabbed Apurva by the ears, cupping her head in his hands and gave her scalp a vigorous rubbing. She staged a protest, but knew that Daaji knew she loved the affection, and gave in.

“Okay, okay! I’ll go play a video game. But promise we will take this up again.”

“Yes, I promise. You promise me one thing in return. Never compromise on what you believe is the right thing to do. If you believe what you are thinking, saying, doing and asking for is right, only let someone you trust completely tell you that you’re wrong. Even then you needn’t believe what they say.”, Daaji held her head in his cupped hands, and then added in a bit of mirth, “Unless you’re being bratty about needing to have that ice cream you saw in a shop.”

Apurva grinned, both at the prospect of ice cream as well as from being happy she won with Daaji.

…. …. ….

And so the years passed, and our present day Apurva was now growing into her own young woman, full of ideas that were sometimes at odds with her peers and some which were conventionally rebellious. She was now the daughter of Ravi and Kajal, the regional branch manager, who would travel frequently, and the cloud kitchen owner who branched out after her tiffin services had been a hit. Rohan was now a student of history in the University of Delhi, in his second year, and the family was treated to tales how he was managing ‘nukkad nataks’ (street plays) for the underprivileged about the different schemes and programs the government was announcing. Daaji had retired, occasionally wrote for a magazine or a newspaper column, where a new decision of the government or any authority was discussed. With the exception of Daaji, not everyone was thrilled with this headstrong teenager Apurva who liked to pick at inaccuracies in debates springing from casual conversations from observations in the news or even from daily run-of-the-mill occurrences such as the growing prices of cooking gas.

On a day like any other, the women of the house and Daaji lunched together, discussed how amazing the egg curry tasted, and why Kajal’s customers couldn’t have been any happier at her giveaway prices. Ravi was gone for a week with routine inspections all over the state, and though his presence was missed in the house, the ladies felt they were more at ease with being able to lord over the household and be all the more in-charge of daily affairs. Kajal was able to employ Ashu, their driver for more than the usual tasks of driving and delivering food; and made him do the odd jobs of getting the silverware polished, the kitchenware cleaned and primed, and even the occasional heavy lifting around the house as and when she decided the furniture needed moving. Apurva also missed her father being around but got respite as being able to meet her friends more often, especially now during her year off, when she could meet her boyfriend in the nearby park or at the street food joints scattered around town, hoping nobody in the family found out. Daaji was the least bothered, or even affected by the presence or absence of any or even all the members of the family. As long as he was fed, he would spend his days reading, writing and socializing with members of the legal fraternity, sometimes in person but mostly over telephonic or video calls.

The usual comfort of the late afternoon and the routine ease of the household was interrupted by a phone call. Ravi had called Daaji, which in itself was strange when Apurva later recalled the fact, as most of the time it was after office hours when Ravi would call Kajal, or vice versa. Daaji was in the study, in a conference call on his laptop, talking to some lawyers. When Daaji picked up the phone from Ravi, he immediately told him to wait a minute, excused himself from the conference call and disconnected, and went back to speaking to Ravi. He sounded grave though calm and collected as he told Ravi that he would see what could be done. Apurva had been in the room at the time, looking over an article on the environmental guidelines which were now not according to international norms. She heard the muffled and worried tone of her father over the phone. She kept looking at Daaji as he hung up the call and began dialing another number. She asked what happened and if everything was alright, to which she was told to go and fetch her mother.

Kajal had been rearranging the kitchen after having had help from Ashu who had washed, wiped and dried the shelves upon shelves of condiment jars, prized possessions of Kajal. She looked up as Apurva called out to her and came into the kitchen, a larger than usual cooking area, carved out taking in a lot of the hallway between the kitchen and the dining space. Apurva said something was wrong, her father had phoned Daaji, and that Daaji seemed serious about it and wanted them to come to the study.

“Did you ask him what happened?”was Kajal’s immediate reaction. She began fearing the worst, and looked very anxious. This had a compound effect on Apurva, who till that instant had only assumed something out of order might have happened, but that nobody could have been in any manner of mortal peril. “I did. But he didn’t say much. Just that you should also be there. You think papa is ok?” Kajal gulped, tried her best to not lose composure, gathered herself, and started towards the study, “Yes, I’m sure your papa is fine. Let’s see what Daaji is calling us for.”

Apurva and Kajal entered the study, a sinking sensation gnawing away from the inside, Did he get diagnosed a medical condition? Did he lose his job? They fought back unwelcome thoughts while they settled themselves in chairs and looked up at Daaji, who was on a phone call, only nodding and murmuring in the affirmative.

“Yes, that would be great. No, I don’t think I would have any pull there, but we can try later. Yes, you know how that it. Yes, that would be best for now. Yes, I’d like an update as soon as possible. I could try but you are in the best position to find that out. Yes. Yes, thank you so much. Bye.” He ended the call and saw the worry on the faces of his granddaughter and daughter-in-law. He tried to smile reassuringly and failed. “What is it?”, Kajal asked as soon as she could form the words. “Is Papa ok?”, Apurva managed to get out.

“Ravi is fine. He called me after he got the news. Rohan has been arrested in Delhi, and he has had some injuries.”, the atmosphere in the room changed, from one dreading the worst to another of worry and anxiousness. Sensing that the two in front hadn’t grasped the gravity of the situation, he continued “He is fine now. He got beaten up by the police, along with many other students, and has been tended to by doctors. There seems to have been some form of a protest going on in one of the college campuses, and as I’ve been told, it turned violent when the police showed up and tried to arrest one of the student leaders.”

As he told them of the events which unfolded far away from their home, Apurva immediately plucked her phone out of her pocket and began looking up for any news updates that might throw light at the situation. Clever girl, he thought to himself, and explained, “Rohan seems to have been in the organizing committee of the nukkad natak which was part of the protests, to bring to the college authorities’ attention the discriminations being meted out against some students belonging to the LGBT communities.” “That’s horrible”, reacted Apurva, “Why would they get beaten up by the police for that?” “And Rohan is under arrest? They’ve jailed up my boy?”, Kajal almost cried, each word taking more effort than the last. “They beat him up? Can’t you talk to someone?”, she implored Daaji, “Get the police to release him? Or in the least let us talk to him? What he must be going through.”

Daaji had anticipated this. Having known the reactions and the outrages that erupted from arrests and detentions of all kinds, he did feel differently about it now, since his own family and his grandson was involved. To try and console them, he went on, “We can only do so much. I called Ravi and explained the situation, and he is not panicking as much. And you know I can’t have any pull over the Police, it would be extremely inappropriate.”, he glanced away from the pleading eyes of his daughter-in-law, the mother of a boy arrested, and looked over at Apurva, frantically trying to go through various news portals, refreshing their newsfeeds and going through them again. He tried bringing reason into the picture, and said, “All we know right now is that Rohan was arrested along with several other students and some student leaders, and the police have had to resort to the use of force. I’m actually comforted with Rohan being held at a police station, and no longer at risk of being involved with any backlash or reactionary violence.” This seemed to do a better job with the frantic ladies, and the worries now shifted on to different angles of the situation. “What about his career? This will leave a mark on his record! Who will want to hire him? My son couldn’t have deserved this! Why didn’t he tell us anything earlier?” “You really think so? Won’t bhaiya suffer later? Will he be considered a criminal now?”

“All that is nonsense. Many people face the process of the law. People get back to normal lives. The person I was on the call with was Vikas Sharma. Mr. Sharma was a colleague of mine way back in the day, and he gave up the services to start his own practice in Delhi. Since then, he has gained fame and is known to have represented many a person in criminal trials. He said, and I agree, that we will be able to get Rohan out soon. Whatever the charges may be, they can’t be grievous if they’re simply from a protest gone out of control. More so, if the police really wanted to get hold of the leaders and the politicians behind it all, Rohan is only collateral damage in the process. He will be out in no time and will not suffer any consequences of the legal process. You can trust me on that.”

“Daaji, this just in”, Apurva read from the screen held in her hands, “Over four hundred students clashed with the Delhi Police after a protest on campus grounds got out of hand and they damaged public property. The ruckus is credited to leaders of the student union, who are also allegedly supporters of the Maoist Communist Party and were raising slogans for the release of political prisoners.”, she looked up and thought out loud, echoing the sentiments of her mother and grandfather, “But how could that have happened? Didn’t you say the protests were to secure the rights of the marginalized students?” She looked on at her grandfather in dismay, waiting for the knowledgeable wise man to give her all the answers and tell her that it would all be fine.

“I know as much as I told you. If you wish, we can discuss the matter over again and nothing will come of it. My suggestion is, let’s wait for a couple of hours, and we can take stock of the situation as it develops. There isn’t any point being worried for the present. Kajal, talk to Ravi, make sure he’s ok, and see that he’s not making rash decisions. I know he is more sensible than that, but it couldn’t hurt to offer some comfort. Tell him about my conversation with Vikas, and that we’ll let him know if anything else happens.”

Kajal nodded and got up to leave the room. She looked at her daughter and took comfort in the fact that Apurva was now sitting cross legged in her chair, alternatively looking from her mother to her Daaji, and back. Kajal knew Apurva, she wouldn’t let it go as easily. She thought to herself about what else she could do to make things seem better, decided on making tea and talking to her husband . She would also send out a message cancelling that evening’s dinner tiffins and kitchen orders.

Daaji picked up his phone and typed a message. He knew Apurva would sit resolute till the situation was fully under control. Typing the message still, he felt her eyes on him, and looked at her. Her intent eyes showed no change, and she said, “If Rohan bhaiya really did damage public property, he must have done that with other students who were angry. I am more like him when it comes to these matters. Otherwise, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I know, little one. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ve asked Vikas to try and enquire with any of the police officers he knows, to best find out what happened. I’ve told him about the news as is coming to us and about Rohan’s usual involvement with college activities.”

“So we just sit here and do nothing? You tell me to take a stand even if it is with everyone thinking I’m in the wrong. How do I do that now?”

“You do that not in spite of knowing everything, but despite not knowing everything. And you do that well. Try keeping it up now, especially when it’s needed from the smallest creature of the house. Could you? Remember, even Bhagat Singh waited for Lala Ji to recover from his wounds from a similar lathi charge. We’re lucky Rohan only has minor injuries, and our Bhagat Singh can carry on her revolutions for much longer in a much longer life.”

“Don’t patronize me. If I were anything like Bhagat Singh I would gather the remaining students, and demand action on all fronts. The brutality of the police, the student leaders responsible and the rights of the marginalized students all together. But I’m not and I’m helpless and can’t do any of that.”

Daaji’s phone rang, he picked it up and said to Apurva, “Okay, then be the Sarojini you can very well be for now and take up the civil rights issues later. Go see if your mother needs help in her satyagrah.”

“Fine!”, Apurva replied. She rose and walked out of the study, leaving Daaji to attend to the phone call, and assuming the role of Sarojini Naidu, Gandhi’s aide.

Apurva found her mother in the kitchen, Kajal’s workplace as well as her haven for meditation. She was on her phone, talking to her husband, the couple assured each other that things were going to be fine. Seeing Apurva approach, she told Ravi to talk to her, and passed the phone, getting busy with stirring the boiler in which tea was boiling and ready.

“Yes, pa, I’m not troubling Daaji. Yes, pa, I’ll see mom doesn’t exert herself. Yes, pa, I’ll tell you immediately if Rohan calls us. No, I won’t post anything on Facebook, don’t worry. Ok, love you too.”

“You know we worried that this sort of thing only you could make us face, but never for once did we think your brother could be involved in anything like this.”, Kajal said matter-of-factly to her daughter, and began straining the tea into cups.

“I have no idea what you mean”, Apurva replied, getting hot under her collar, “and Rohan bhaiya isn’t all that goody-goody if you think about it. He is the one constantly raising awareness about social causes. I think it’s spectacular, but never thought this could happen. Do you want any help here?”

“Hmm. Ok, just carry the tray into the study. And maybe you’re right. Maybe we’ve let you kids do too much as you please, letting you off on your own”, she put the cups onto a tray, added, “Like roaming around town for long hours. Anything can happen.”

Apurva felt her mother’s gaze on her and feigned ignorance, feeling guilty about having a boyfriend, and the dread that followed the thoughts that maybe her parents knew about him. She busied herself with the tray, laid out a few digestive biscuits on a plate, and carried it following her mother into the study.

Daaji, leaning back in his revolving chair, beckoned them to the chairs in which they had previously sat. He told them that he had talked with Vikas, who in turn had received word from high ranking officials as well as the officer in charge of the police station where Rohan was held. This really was good news, and Kajal wanted to know what had really happened, and if Rohan would be free to go now.

“It’s not that simple”, he said, “turns out, Rohan is having multiple charges being levelled against him. No, this is not good, I know. He, along with others are to be tried for not just vandalism, but sedition as well.”

Kajal gasped, Apurva’s jaw dropped, and Daaji knew he should have used a different choice of words. Apurva cried out, “But that simply isn’t possible. Sedition is going against the country, how is anything that he could have been involved with amount to sedition?”

Daaji let her words hang in the air, continued, “The lot of the students will be tried for sedition. They will also be prosecuted for unlawful activities involving conspiracy against the state.” Again, he tried ignoring the pleading looks from both his daughter-in-law and his granddaughter. “Look, this is how the law works, if there is an allegation it will be seen through to its end. Besides, let me finish telling you what I’ve learnt.” He told them, almost verbatim, whatever information Vikas had given him. That there had been a protest as they knew, about the discrimination faced by the students of the LGBTQ, but here the matters went out of hand when the leaders of the student union had become involved. They were not aligned with the protests. They had their own agendas. The gathering protestors suddenly found themselves to have more than doubled in numbers. A few politicians had egged these leaders on. They had hijacked the protests, turned it into a stage for raising slogans which Rohan and his compatriots would not have been associated with. The police were summoned, hostilities grew, some students vandalized the college grounds, reinforcements were called in. This finally resulted in clashes and pandemonium ensued.

“So why is Rohan in jail? Why have the police not set him free? I’ll call Ravi and tell him to fly to Delhi immediately.”

“Why would the police be there in the first place? Is there any proof that Rohan bhaiya was actually involved in anything except being present there?”

“No, don’t tell Ravi to do anything. There isn’t anything that can be done by us. Vikas will apply for bail and hopefully things will clear up in a day or two. Don’t be worried for Rohan’s health, he would not want us to worry especially when he is cut off from communicating. As for proof, there doesn’t seem to be any evidence to suggest either which way, so the police and the courts must reach the conclusions themselves. They will eventually see that Rohan was a bystander as far as they’re concerned, and then let him go. All we can hope for is that he doesn’t make any politically charged statements to the police or in court tomorrow. Yes, he and all the others will be presented in court. No, that does not make him a criminal.”

“Hell with all of it”, flared Kajal and picked up her phone. She dialed Ravi’s number and found the line busy. Fuming, she waited before she tried again. Apurva had other things on her mind. She spoke softly and enquired, “Why did you say Rohan bhaiya should refrain from making any comments about the college politics, Daaji? If he isn’t in the wrong, he should say it straight up, haven’t you always said so?”

Daaji looked at Apurva, and sensed the confusion that comes with onset of maturity, and explained that if Rohan were to make any comment incriminating the student leaders, he would be caught up in more politics within campus, and if he sided with them, he would be labelled an anti-social element raising seditious slogans against the country. He ended with, “Remember what happened at Chauri Chaura after Gandhiji had called for pan country non-cooperation? Think of this as the same.”

“Okay. That might be so, but didn’t Gandhiji himself get charged with a case of sedition that once during the freedom struggle? I don’t want any of us to have to face any of those trials.”, Apurva didn’t want her elder brother to be accepting any charges that the authorities were making.

“Yes. Gandhiji did, and not just one but over several times. He accepted the charges because what he was saying might have been said to be sedition by the law as was then, but not by any standard now, and especially not for raising genuine concerns. If Rohan was arrested for demanding equal rights for his peers, would you hold it against him? Even if that meant that such demands were seditious?”

“Fine. I see your point, but here he is getting caught for slogans someone else said. He should tell the police that.”, Apurva’s repeated woes were drowned out by Kajal’s phone ringing. Ravi had called back. They sat in silence as Kajal talked it over with her husband, then handed the phone to Daaji, who went over the narrative again and told him what they were doing and reassured him convincingly enough to not have him catch a flight and return home, or worse, go to Delhi.

Daaji then narrated to his family Gandhiji’s trial for sedition. He recounted most of it from memory. Then he stood up, searched for a book from the shelf and read out how the mahatma said he believed “that I have rendered a service to India and England by showing in non-cooperation the way out of the unnatural state in which both are living. In my humble opinion, non-cooperation with evil is as much a duty as is co-operation with the good”

“You see, Apurva”, he said, “Much depends on your brother to not align, or co-operate with his fellow student leaders, but to also keep his head held high for his own beliefs and the causes that he supports. In fact, you as well as Rohan should be proud because”, he went back to the book, and recited, “I consider it to be the proudest privilege and honour to be associated with the name of Lokamanya Balagangadhar Tilak. So far as the sentence itself is concerned I certainly consider it as light as any Judge would inflict on me and so far as the whole proceedings are concerned, I must say that I could not have expected greater courtesy.”

A cloud was lifted from the dwelling which housed young Apurva. Her mother smiled faintly, still worried, but now certain that things would work themselves out, that Rohan would be free, eventually. Apurva stood up as well, went over to her Daaji, and hugged him tightly as only she could.

Joyfully taken aback, Daaji asked her, chuckling, “What form of rebellion is this, little one? You want this old man to become independent of his ribs?”

“Not at all, but this is a different revolution”, Apurva smiled and said, “Chipko.”

By Allan Anton Andrew