After the funeral prayer had been said, Amir and Fadi along with Ajit’s two brothers carried Ajit’s body out of the house and towards the local cemetery. It wasn’t a long walk. It took them no longer than fifteen minutes. The rest of the mourners followed the four men who carried Ajit’s body.
The sun had just risen over the horizon as they got to the cemetery, as if to preside over the burial and ensure it was conducted in an appropriate manner. Amir, being the eldest son, oversaw the digging of the grave. With the help of his two uncles he made sure it was perpendicular to Mecca.
When it was sufficiently deep he took the responsibility of laying three balls of dirt in the grave. As Fadi and their uncles lowered Ajit into the grave, Amir adjusted the three balls of dirt so that they lay appropriately. One under his father’s head, one under the chin and the third under the shoulder.
They lay Ajit down on his right side, facing Mecca and as they did so they prayed. When Amir was satisfied that his father had been placed in his place of rest properly, those present threw in three handfuls of dirt, reciting the appropriate prayers each time. Then Amir oversaw the filling of the soil and ensuring that it was stamped down firmly enough.
Then he placed the small headstone on top of the grave. Then they stood around, silently as each said their goodbyes silently. Ghadda, Ajit’s wife, cried openly but dignified. There was no wailing and gnashing of teeth. Islam did not condone such exaggerated grief and Ghadda was a good and pious Muslim woman.
Amir and Fadi embraced their mother and they made their way slowly back towards their home as the other mourners dispersed to leave them to their mourning privately.
“I will ensure that father’s death does not go unanswered,” said Amir.
“And I will answer Amir’s call for restitution, mama,” said Fadi.
Though what that would be, Amir had no answer. For starters, he did not know who to blame. Surely it was the British for they had killed his father. His anger at them burned hot like a glowing coal in the pit of his stomach. But his mind kept turning to Gandhi. If Gandhi had not sent his father on this ridiculous march to the salt works then his father would be alive still.
And where was this Gandhi, this great soul, when things got difficult? How come he conveniently got arrested and never suffered the blows and stings like the others did? These were questions that Amir would seek answers to during his next three days of mourning and he would dwell upon them until he had all the answers and his path forward was clearly marked.
But in the meantime he would sit and watch over his father’s pyre until he collected the ashes and took him to his final place of rest.
SEVEN
Chapter 7
DECLAN and Everard were especially excited to be seeing Gandhi on this evening. There had been only a small article written up about it in the back pages of the paper. What had taken up most of the front pages was the usual political pandering about the Round Table Conference and how successful MacDonald and his government felt it would be.
Everyone was dressed smartly. The men in their suits and the women in long dresses and blouses. Frances was looking forward to hearing what Gandhi had to say. She was open minded about vegetarianism but not convinced of its benefits which Everard had often expressed. Frances was more interested in hearing about how that lifestyle was important in Gandhi's overarching philosophy of satyagraha.
They all waited patiently by the front door for Eric to make his way downstairs from the bedroom. There was nervous chatter with Everard explaining happily how thrilled he was that everyone was going to the lecture.
Eric came down the stairs slowly, wincing a bit as he did so.
"Are you alright, darling?" asked Frances.
He nodded.
"I put out my back trying to get my shoes on," he said. "That's what was holding me up. But I think I'll be alright."
"Are you sure? Perhaps you should stay home?" asked Frances.
"Nonsense," he said, "It'll do me good to get out and walk about."
There was no convincing him otherwise so they left Marmalade Park and made their way towards Abbot House in Surrey in two cars. Eric leading in the Rolls Royce and Alfie and Amelia following in Alfie's Austin Seven Swallow Saloon. Abbot House was about an hour and fifteen minutes from Marmalade Park and the drive was leisurely and pleasant once they'd gotten out of London.
By the time they got there just after six, Abbot House was already lively with throngs of people. Being out in the country there was plenty of parking. Some of the young children looked at them from the orphanage and smiled and waved as the visitors passed by towards the larger building which held the lecture hall.
Frances and Amelia smiled at the young boys and girls as they passed.
"Aren't they sweet?" said Frances.
"They certainly are," agreed Amelia.
Alfie looked down at his wife and grinned at her.
"We'll have some just like that one day," he said.
Amelia nodded her head and tucked her hand into his elbow. They followed Everard and Declan and Eric and Frances towards the lecture hall. Everard offered the tickets at the entrance and a young man nodded and punched holes in them.
"Enjoy the show," he said.
"We will," said Everard.
They walked inside. The hall was quite plain with a raised platform upon which plays and other shows might be offered. There was a red curtain that was draped in the first third of it, closing off the rest of the stage from the viewers. The seats were simple but cushioned and sloped downwards towards the front of the stage. Everard turned around and looked at Eric.
"Where would you like to sit?"
"Towards the front, I think," he said.
Everard gestured with his hand, and Eric lead the way. They found a row of seats close to the stage but not so close that you had to strain your head to look up at the lectern. Eric led them with Frances following and then Amelia and Alfie, and finally Everard and Declan.
It was busy as more and more people came in and took their seats.
"You said it was sold out right?" asked Amelia, looking over at Everard.
"That's what I heard."
And just before six thirty there wasn't an empty seat in that hall at Abbot House. The hall was abuzz with the noise of anticipation and voices speaking quietly to one another, wondering what Gandhi might speak of.
A tall, thin Caucasian man stepped out from the wings of the stage and walked up to the podium. He looked out towards the crowd and smiled at them for a while, taking his time to look over all the faces.
He took his time as his gaze took in the whole room. He had dirty blonde hair that was a mess, but he wore a clean and crisp suit. The auditorium was small and intimate, but it likely held at least two hundred people. Perhaps more.
"I wonder where the food is?" asked Declan, looking at Everard.
Everard leaned in to answer, in a soft voice.
"I think I overheard someone saying that they would be putting out the buffet in the garden under some tents during the talk."
Declan nodded.
"Good evening, ladies and gentleman," said the young man at the podium. "It is a great honor to have you here tonight and we have a very special guest for you. But first, let me introduce myself. I am Giles Hume and I am the president of the Vegetarian Society."
Giles smiled out towards the crowd. He had a very infectious and warm disposition that put people at ease. He paused for a moment before continuing.
"Some of you might be wondering where our delicious buffet is. Do not be dismayed, we have the finest Indian chefs preparing it as I speak. It will be your reward for listening to the esteemed Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi."
Laughter and clapping erupted from the group. Giles smiled down at them from the podium. He rested his hands lightly on the lectern. He was relaxed as if this was something he did every day.
"For those of you who are interested in the vegetarian lifestyle and philosophy, you will find brochures on al
l the tables when you leave the lecture hall to enjoy your buffet. I, as well as other members of the Vegetarian Society will be milling around if you'd like to speak to us personally. With that aside, let me introduce you to tonight's speaker…"
Declan looked over at Everard.
"I might like to pick up one of those brochures," he said.
Everard smiled at him.
"I think you should. It's healthier for you, you know." he said, smiling at his partner.
"Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi comes from a small village in India called Porbandar in the Indian state of Gujarat. His father was Chief Minister of Porbandar State. Mr. Gandhi is affectionately and reverently known as Mahatma Gandhi, Mahatma meaning 'great soul'. It was a title bestowed upon him in 1914 by the people of India whom he serves. It is similar to our word saint, and used to honor a person who has given much to his community."
Frances looked over at Eric.
"If only our Lords were as humble?"
She smiled at him and he looked back at her and smiled back.
"If only they were, perhaps we wouldn't be in the depression we find ourselves in."
"Mahatma Gandhi, as many of you are aware," continued Giles, "has taken up satyagraha, which means the 'adherence to truth'. Gandhi is on a mission to free the Indian people from British control, by non-violent means. He is here as part of the Round Table Conference, and I am both honored and delighted that he has seen fit to grace us with his presence for tonight’s talk titled 'Vegetarianism, Satyagraha and the Road to Peace'. I am also pleased to call the great Mahatma both a friend and fellow vegetarian. Ladies and gentleman, without further ado, will you please warmly welcome the great Mahatma, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi."
Giles stretched out his left hand towards the end of the stage and behind the wings a small and thin Indian man walked out, wearing a simple and plain gray suit. He was balding and the hair that was left on his head was cut very short. He wore an English style mustache and round rimmed glasses. He shook hands warmly with Giles who stood a foot taller than him.
He walked up to the lectern and took a moment to take in all of the audience. He smiled at them and his eyes twinkled. He cleared his throat.
"Thank you all for coming to hear me speak tonight. I hope that it may prove to be a good use of your time. He turned to his left where Giles had just recently left the stage.
"Thank you to Mr. Giles Hume for that very warm introduction."
Gandhi's humility was sincere and infectious. You couldn't help but to warm to the small man who stood up there with his emotions and truth naked for all to see. And to think that such a small man was such a giant on the world's stage was a profound dichotomy but testament to his lion heart.
Gandhi started speaking and he carried on, clearly and with erudite logic and compassion for almost an hour. It was a thrilling and enraptured talk which held everyone on the edge of their seats.
If there had been many who had not understood Gandhi or his focus on truth and non-violence, there were none left in the audience at the end of his talk. And those who had come to hear him but had not come in support of his cause had their opinions mostly changed.
"I will be happy to visit with any of you who would like to discuss what I have said in greater detail. I will be available in the garden where I understand they are serving a wonderful Indian buffet. Thank you all for listening to an old man speak of his hopes and dreams of peace amongst our two nations."
Gandhi bowed and the audience erupted in loud applause and stood as he walked off the stage. Giles returned and waited patiently until the audience settled down and took their seats again. Giles turned to his left.
"Thank you, Mahatma, for that wonderful and inspiring talk."
Giles turned back to face the crowd.
"I am sure that many of you can smell the wonderful curries and food that our chefs have prepared. I have been informed that it is ready for you now all to enjoy. If you'd like to partake in the wonderful meal, please depart out to your left and into the garden where tents, tables and chairs have been set up. Mahatma Gandhi will be out shortly to visit with any of you who wish to speak with him in greater detail about the topic of tonight's speech. Please remember that there are many who might have questions and if you can conduct yourselves with that understanding, we'd all be terribly grateful. For those of you who won't be joining us for any dinner, you are welcome to depart to your right, the same way you came in. Thank you, ladies and gentleman, and goodnight."
"We are staying for dinner aren't we?" asked Declan looking over at his parents.
Frances nodded.
"Most certainly, I gave Ginny the night off, so it's either this or we'll starve."
Declan smiled.
"Good, because I'm absolutely starving and it all smells so delicious."
"I agree," said Amelia.
And they all stood up from their chairs and walked out of the hall to their left and into the garden. It was still light out as the sun started its slow descent into the bottom of the earth. Looking around, Frances was amazed at how many people from the audience were so eager for the dinner buffet. She would guess that possibly half of the audience was staying for dinner.
They made their way to the end of the long line of hungry people. It moved rather quickly for such a long line, and as they made it to the front and picked up their plates and cutlery, empty pans were being taken away and fresh ones were being put in their place.
Frances had some saffron rice and pakoras as well as some dahl which she poured over her rice. Eric and the boys heaped their plates high with an assortment of vegetable and bean curries as well as pakoras and samosas. Amelia took a chickpea curry and a samosa and poured the curry over a bed of rice.
They found a table large enough for the six of them and placed their plates down upon it. Everard didn't sit.
"Can I get anyone some water while I'm up?" he asked.
Everyone nodded, so Declan got up with him to help. They came back with six glasses of water and put them in the middle of the table where everyone helped themselves. They started to eat quickly and quietly. The food was both warm and spicy but not overpowering for their palates. They were quite accustomed to Indian food, though they all had to agree that this was some of the best they had ever tasted.
When they were about halfway through their meal, they noticed a group of people crowding around by the exit of the hall. Declan noticed that they had gathered around Gandhi. As more and more people noticed, the crowd around the small Indian grew larger and larger.
"Looks like it might be difficult to get a word in with Gandhi," said Everard looking over at the crowd.
Declan nodded.
"All things come to those who are patient," said Eric. "I'm sure we'll get a chance if we wait. We aren't in any rush, are we?"
"I don't think so," said Declan, looking over at his sister.
"We're not. We've got all night to spend with the family," she said.
"What are you hoping to ask him?" asked Declan.
"I want to ask him how sincere he feels the British government is with these Round Table discussions."
"That's a loaded question," said Frances, looking up at her husband and smiling at him.
"Well, I suppose it is, and we'll see how he answers it."
"Probably not as openly as you might like. I'm sure he's going to say the political things, like the government is making the right sort of gestures and so on and so forth," said Declan.
Eric nodded.
"I agree, but I want to hear it from the horse’s mouth so to speak."
They ate the rest of their meal while occasionally looking up at the throng of eager citizens trying to have a word with Gandhi. The crowd around him didn't seem to be thinning and Frances noticed that there were a couple of other Indian men with Gandhi. They were clearly associates of his. Perhaps there to protect him from the pressing crowd. They looked particularly nervous, but perhaps that was because the crowd was thick and close aro
und them.
The crowd was mostly made up of British Caucasians though there were a few Indians amongst them and a couple of Africans, most likely students studying in London.
After some time, servers came by and cleared their plates. The group of diners had started to thin, but the crowd around Gandhi ebbed and flowed. Eric watched for a while as he drained the remainder of water from his glass. It didn't look like the crowd was going to dissipate soon, so Eric stood up.
"I think I'm going to go and join the throng and see if I can't get a question in," he said.
"I'll join you," said Frances. "Not sure how much longer we'll have to wait and those two over there look like they might not wish to trouble Gandhi with this crowd much longer."
Frances was looking over at the two men who seemed most concerned with the crowd around Gandhi. Frances stood up with her husband.
"Anyone else interested in speaking to the Mahatma?" asked Eric.
Declan shook his head.
"I wouldn't know what to ask him," said Amelia.
"Me neither," confirmed Alfie.
"I think I'll come along too," said Everard. "I might like to ask him about his thoughts on dairy foods and if he thinks they're any good."
Everard stood up and the three of them started off towards the crowd.
"We'll wait here for you three," shouted Declan after them.
Where they had sat was only about fifty feet from where the crowd had gathered around Gandhi. They started up towards them, by the main exit of the hall when they froze. A sound like thunder and lightning splitting the sky erupted from within the crowd. And then again.
The crowd quickly dispersed and there was pandemonium. Frances saw men running every which way, but she didn't see anyone with a gun. Though she knew there must have been a gun amongst them. But in the chaos she couldn't see any. Two of the Indians ran off together, through the exit where Frances lost sight of them. The third Indian ran off the opposite way, around the hall's length before disappearing behind it.
The two Africans ran off away from Frances and around the closer side of the hall to her, where they too disappeared out of view. A couple of canes and walking sticks were flailing about as the group dispersed.
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