was the last political leader in the world who was a person, not a mask or a radio voice or an institution. The last on a human scale. The last for whom I felt neither fear nor contempt nor indifference but interest and affection. He was dear to me—I realize it now better than I did when he was alive—for all kinds of reasons. He believed in love, gentleness, persuasion, simplicity of manners, and he came closer to ‘living up to’ those beliefs than most people I know—let alone most Big Shots, on whom the pressure for the reverse must be very powerful. He was dear to me because he had no respect for railroads, assembly-belt production, and other knick-knacks of liberalistic Progress, and insisted on examining their human (as against their metaphysical) value. Also because he was clever, humorous, lively, hard-headed, and never made speeches about Fascism, Democracy, the Common Man, or World Government. And because he had a keen nose for the concrete, homely ‘details’ of living which make the real difference to people but which are usually ignored by everybody except poets. And finally because he was a good man, by which I mean not only ‘good’ but also ‘man’.41
More grudging in their response to Gandhi’s death were writers in the Soviet Union. Their leader, Stalin, had refused or forgotten to send a condolence message. After this was commented on in the Indian press, a Russian writer tried to make amends, while staying faithful to the Marxist catechism. So, he praised Gandhi for ‘draw[ing] the great labouring masses into the movement’, adding that he was however a ‘decided opponent of class struggle’, whose tactics of class collaboration ‘undoubtedly retarded the development of the national liberation struggle’.42
There was no public reference to Gandhi’s death by Winston Churchill. There was no public comment either by B.R. Ambedkar, despite him being a member of Nehru’s Cabinet. However, a week after Gandhi’s death, Ambedkar wrote a fascinating letter to his future wife Dr Sharada Kabir. Here, he called the murder a ‘foul deed’, adding: ‘You know that I owe nothing to Mr. Gandhi and he has not contributed to my spiritual, moral and social makeup….Nonetheless I felt very sad on hearing of his assassination.’
Ambedkar went to Birla House on the 31st morning, where he ‘was very much moved on seeing his [Gandhi’s] dead body’. He walked with the funeral procession for a short distance and returned home, but later in the afternoon went to the cremation site, where the massive crowds made him turn back again.
Writing to the friend whom he was to marry, Ambedkar remarked that ‘great men are of great service to their country, but they are also at certain times a great hindrance to the progress of their country’. He further elaborated:
Mr. Gandhi had become a positive danger to his country. He had choked all the thoughts. He was holding together the Congress which is a combination…agreed on no social or moral principle except the one of praising and flattering Mr. Gandhi….
As the Bible says that something good cometh out of evil, so also I think that good will come out of the death of Mr. Gandhi. He will release people from bondage to superman, it will make them think for themselves and it will compel them to stand on their own merits.43
More generous was Vasant Moon, a young Ambedkarite in Nagpur then in his teens, and in the fullness of time to become the chief editor of B.R. Ambedkar’s collected works. As he and his friends heard the news of Gandhi’s murder, recalled Moon, ‘everyone’s mind almost unconsciously sank into depression. In the sky clouds began to gather. If some great man dies nature reflects the despondency….We had never felt much sympathy for Gandhi; we understood Ambedkar’s opposition to him. Even so we were conscious that he was a great man.’44
Ideological opponents were moved by Gandhi’s death, and so were former associates who had fallen out with him. One of them was R.P. Parasuram, the typist who had quarrelled with Gandhi and left his entourage in eastern Bengal a year previously. Gandhi’s Calcutta fast had stoked feelings of guilt, these made stronger by the manner of Gandhi’s death. In early January, Parasuram had wanted to go and see Gandhi in Delhi, but didn’t have the money for a long-distance railway ticket. So, he thought he would go and see Gandhi when he visited Sevagram, which was closer to Bombay (where Parasuram then worked). Now that wouldn’t be possible either. ‘His going away like this, after the two successful fasts,’ wrote Parasuram sorrowfully to Nirmal Kumar Bose,
makes me feel completely foolish and greatly guilty. To the end of my days I shall have to remember that I put him to great trouble and deserted him at a time when my attendance was necessary. Even in July last he had given me a hint that he would welcome me back. But I was too conceited and proud.
It is no use crying over what one cannot undo. I know that [then] I thought sincerely. Whether I thought rightly, only the future could have shown. Yet my mind shall continue to be troubled. The only thing I can now do, in whatever little way I can, what all he has asked us to do. That way alone shall I find some peace.45
An interesting (and also prophetic) reaction came from the industrialist J.R.D. Tata. While (unlike Jamnalal Bajaj and G.D. Birla) Tata had never explicitly identified with the Congress, Gandhi was fond of him, not least because his uncle Ratan Tata had funded his struggle in South Africa. When Gandhi was murdered, J.R.D. Tata was in Switzerland, from where he wrote to a colleague:
I was horrified, as you all must have been, at the news of Gandhiji’s assassination. It is a World tragedy but who knows whether his paying the ultimate price may not in the end have done more for the cause of peace, tolerance and communal harmony for which he gave his life than he would have achieved by remaining alive. It may have, amongst other things, brought about greater solidarity and a tightening of the ranks in the Cabinet and the Congress and healed, at least for the crucial time being, the differences and fissiparous tendencies which were beginning to make themselves conspicuous in government circles….I trembled to think what would happen if Jawaharlal met the same fate. I hope however, that the grief and anger caused by Gandhi’s murder amongst the great mass of the people of India and the realisation of the righteousness and soundness of what he stood for, will keep…the extremists from further mischief and wean away many from their fold.46
IX
After he was cremated on 31 January, Gandhi’s ashes were collected and placed in several dozen boxes, these distributed to different parts of the country. On Thursday, 14 February, in a grand, coordinated ceremony, the ashes were immersed in rivers or in the sea, in towns and cities across India.
In Bombay, a city Gandhi knew intimately and which had witnessed the ups and downs of his political career, some half a million people participated in the immersion ceremony. The ashes were placed overnight for public viewing in the town hall, and taken the next day to Chowpatty beach in a procession of open vehicles. ‘Every inch of the roads was packed and every window and vantage point occupied. Flowers continued to be showered as the procession passed through Churchgate Street, Bazar Gate Street, Hornby Road, Sheikh Memon Street, Bhuleshwar, C.P. Tank, Vithalbhai Patel Road and Sandhurst Road to Chowpatty.’
In Calcutta, a city which had recently witnessed Gandhi’s epic fast for peace, the immersion took place in the Hooghly River at Barrackpore. It was observed by a ‘vast crowd, consisting of men, women and children of all castes and communities’. A boat was taken into the river, and the urn with the ashes lowered into the water by the West Bengal governor, C. Rajagopalachari, his hands shaking with emotion.
There were similar ceremonies in Patna, capital of Bihar, the state where Gandhi had organized his first Indian campaign; in Poona, home to his early mentor Gopal Krishna Gokhale; and in Paunar, near Wardha, where his disciple Vinoba Bhave had his ashram, not far from Gandhi’s own last ashram at Sevagram.47
With Manilal having arrived from South Africa, Gandhi’s sons took one urn for immersion in Allahabad, where the Ganga and Jamuna met. At every station along the way, Indians of all castes, creeds, classes and ages thronged th
e train to pay respects. At the industrial city of Kanpur, an estimated four lakh people turned up to have a last darshan. Even at the small railway town of Tundla, there was a crowd a lakh strong, ‘perched on roof-tops, railway wagons, railway engines, trees, lamp posts—any vantage point available…’48
X
Who was the man who murdered Gandhi? Why was he moved to act as he did? These details emerged in the course of the year 1948, as the trial of the murderer and his companions proceeded.
Nathuram Vinayak Godse was born in 1910, the son of an employee in the postal department. His was a family of Brahmins, well versed in the scriptures but also open to the currents of the modern world. In about 1930, his father was posted in Ratnagiri, where V.D. Savarkar also lived. Once a militant (and secular) revolutionary, Savarkar now propounded a philosophy he called ‘Hindutva’, which saw Hindus, and Hindus alone, as the true and proper inhabitants of India. Visiting his father in Ratnagiri, Nathuram met Savarkar, and soon ‘became thick with Savarkar’s activities and worked with him’.49
Through the 1930s and 1940s, Godse worked to further a militant, muscular form of Hinduism. He formed rifle clubs, and ran a newspaper. He joined the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, then left it. He also met many leaders of the Hindu Mahasabha, and retained a veneration for Savarkar himself, visiting him often in Bombay, where Savarkar now lived.
In February 1938, Nathuram Godse wrote Savarkar a long letter outlining how the Hindu Mahasabha could challenge the Congress in the political field. To strengthen the Mahasabha organization, argued Godse, it should bring in non-Brahmins and the Depressed Classes representatives into leadership positions, and make more active propaganda through newspapers and speeches.
Godse complained about an ‘inferiority-complex’ among Mahasabhites in Poona, who felt they couldn’t achieve ‘solid results’ to match those of the Congress. Godse himself thought the Mahasabha could learn a lesson or two from Gandhi’s party. His letter to Savarkar concluded:
In the last two years the Congress President Jawahar Lal [Nehru] has done a great deal of real work. He went by air from place to place, made speeches in the villages round about. Therefore the succeeding president will have responsibility of heavier work than that, and it seems they will successfully carry that out too.
The name of the Hindu Mahasabha President must resound as well. Maharaj, individually you do great work ceaselessly, but that work is not getting to-day the necessary publicity, and hence its importance does not become known to the public.
I have gone beyond my privilege in writing [such a] letter, but it is requested that you will be generous enough to excuse [me] for the same.50
Between 1941 and 1944, Godse wrote many letters addressed to ‘Venerable Barrister Tatyarao Savarkar’, praising his attempts at promoting Hindu Sanghatanist ideology, offering to organize Savarkar’s own tours through Maharashtra and to accompany him if he chose to tour Kashmir.51 Godse later recalled that under Savarkar’s ‘magnetic lead’, the ‘Hindu Sanghatan Movement got verily electrified and vivified as never before’. The man who became Gandhi’s murderer claimed that Gandhi’s old rival, Savarkar, was looked upon by right-wing Hindus as ‘the chosen hero, the ablest and most faithful advocate of the Hindu cause’.52
In 1946 and 1947, Godse was the editor and publisher of a Marathi magazine called Agrani. The magazine impressed Savarkar, who gave Godse and his colleague Narayan (Nana) Apte a grant of Rs 15,000, at the time a not inconsiderable sum.53 The articles printed by Agrani spoke of ‘Muslim goondas’ and their ‘terrible atrocities’ which led to ‘pools of [Hindu] blood and flesh’ being created, compared the leaders of the Muslim League to Nader Shah and Genghis Khan, and attacked the Congress (and Nehru and Gandhi personally) for not protecting the interests of Hindus. One article, published in March 1947, claimed that ‘whether it is Punjab or Bengal the real culprits in setting ablaze the conflagration that is seen flaring up far and wide with growing speed today are Gandhi and his followers, Congressmen’. It further spoke of ‘Gandhi’s incessant efforts for not allowing any spirit to be created in the Hindu community anywhere’, charged the British with favouring fanatical Muslims, and asked Hindus and Sikhs to take heart from (and follow the methods of) the medieval warriors Rana Pratap, Shivaji and Guru Govind.54
Godse’s closest collaborator was Narayan Apte, like him a Poona Brahmin. Others in his circle had a shared background of caste, language and ideology. Poona had long been a centre of Hindu extremism. Anti-Muslim sentiment ran deep amongst its intelligentsia and upper castes.
Godse detested Gandhi for his philosophy of non-violence, and for his tolerance of, or love for, Muslims. There was also a partisan flavour to his aversion—many Maharashtrians had reservations about Gujaratis, and many Brahmins saw Banias as scheming. In 1944, Godse had shouted angry slogans at a meeting Gandhi addressed in Panchgani. But it was with the partition of India and the flight of Hindus and Sikhs from the Punjab that his hatred for Gandhi turned venomous. When India should be taking on Pakistan, when Hindus should be subduing Muslims, the presumed ‘Father of the Nation’ was preaching peace and reconciliation.
It was in early January that Godse and Apte made up their mind to murder Gandhi. They travelled to Delhi on the 17th, stayed under assumed names at the Marina Hotel in Connaught Place, and made a reconnaissance of Birla House. On the 20th, they travelled to Kanpur and then on to Bombay, perhaps to meet fellow conspirators. On the 29th, they were back in Delhi.
In his testimony to the court, Godse said:
My idea was to shoot him twice-at-point-blank range so that none else might get injured. I bowed [to] him with the pistol between my two palms. I had removed the safety-catch when I had taken out the pistol from inside my bush-coat pocket….After I had fired the shot there was a lull throughout for about half a minute. I had also got excited. I then shouted ‘Police-Police—come’.
The bow before releasing the trigger was apparently in acknowledgement of Gandhi’s age, and his past services to the nation, before the recent events that had so completely turned Godse against him.
Godse told the court that he had ‘never made a secret about the fact that I supported the ideology or the school which was opposed to that of Gandhiji. I firmly believed that the teachings of absolute “Ahimsa” as advocated by Gandhiji would ultimately result in the emasculation of the Hindu Community [and] thus make the community incapable of resisting the aggression or inroads of other communities especially the Muslims.’
The judges asked Godse whether he was acting under the advice or inspiration of Savarkar. He rejected what he called an ‘unjust and untrue charge’, which was, he said, an ‘insult to my intelligence and judgment’.
Godse claimed that when he and Apte came to Delhi in early January, their plan was merely to organize a demonstration on behalf of the refugees. Then, ‘while moving in the camps my thoughts took a final and definite turn. Chancely I came across a refugee who was dealing in arms and he showed me the pistol. I was tempted to have it and bought it from him. It is the same pistol that I later used in the shots I fired. On coming to the Delhi Railway Station I spent the night of the 29th thinking and re-thinking about my resolve to end the present chaos and further destruction of the Hindus.’55
In his article in the Pakistan Times, Mian Iftikharuddin had characterized Gandhi’s killer as a ‘poor idiot or maniac’. That the murderer was crazy was the immediate reaction of others who knew and revered the Mahatma, such as C. Rajagopalachari. However, as the trial proceeded, it became clear that this was no idiot or maniac but a focused and ideologically driven individual, committed to a form of Hinduism and of nationalism totally opposed to Gandhi’s own. While Godse may have left the RSS, there was little question that, like M.S. Golwalkar and his organization, he detested the Mahatma for seeking to make Indian Muslims safe in India. Since by his acts Gandhi was (as Godse thought) weakening the consolidation of the Hi
ndus, he had to be (as it were) ‘immediately silenced’.
XI
On 31 January 1948, a former Punjab civil servant named Malcolm Darling wrote in his diary:
Gandhi was assassinated yesterday. A talk with Arthur Lall [an Indian friend, then posted in London] on the telephone. He thought this was the end of civilization in India. Very difficult to say what will happen, but it is as if a ship had lost its keel. Further disintegration seems inevitable, and what will happen to the 40 million Muslims left in India, now that they have lost their chief protector? Arthur Lall fears Nehru will be the next victim. I wonder if sooner or later we will have to go back.56
Darling was by no means a typical ICS man. A graduate of the famously liberal King’s College in Cambridge, a protégé of E.M. Forster, he was an urbane, cultivated cosmopolitan, who saw himself as a friend of India and Indians.57 Yet, even he was here thinking that perhaps Indians wouldn’t be able to run their country after Gandhi died, and the British might have to return to take charge.
They didn’t, of course. One reason was that the immediate fallout of Gandhi’s death was the reconciliation of Nehru and Patel. Two days after the Mahatma was murdered, Nehru wrote to Patel that ‘with Bapu’s death, everything is changed and we have to face a different and more difficult world. The old controversies have ceased to have much significance and it seems to me that the urgent need of the hour is for all of us to function as closely and co-operatively as possible…’ Patel, in reply, said he ‘fully and heartily reciprocate[d] the sentiments you have so feelingly expressed…Recent events had made me very unhappy and I had written to Bapu…appealing to him to relieve me, but his death changes everything and the crisis that has overtaken us must awaken in us a fresh realisation of how much we have achieved together and the need for further joint efforts in our grief-stricken country’s interests.’58
Gandhi Page 102
