Gandhi Page #10

GANDHI:

You'll find there's room for us both.

And he steps around him, Charlie trailing, as the first youth

stares at them sullenly.

As they stride on, Charlie glancing back --

CHARLIE:

(relieved)

That was lucky.

GANDHI:

I thought you were a man of God.

CHARLIE:

(wittily, but making

his point)

I am. But I'm not so egotistical as

to think He plans His day around my

dilemmas.

Gandhi laughs as they turn the corner.

BUSY STREET - JOHANNESBURG - EXTERIOR - MORNING

A busy street in the center of the town. Gandhi and Charlie

come around the corner into it.

GANDHI:

...you could call it a "communal

farm," I suppose. But we've all come

to the same conclusion -- our Gita,

the Muslim's Koran or your Bible --

it's always the simple things that

catch your breath -- "Love thy

neighbor as thyself" --

(He smiles, thinking

back at the youths.)

not always practiced -- but it's

something we Hindus could learn a

lot from.

He has paused before an office and a young girl (Sonja) has

come from it to speak to him about something of urgency, but

she hovers, not interrupting.

CHARLIE:

That's the sort of thing you'll be

seeking on this "farm"...

GANDHI:

(a smile)

Well, we shall try.

And now he turns to Sonja. Behind her we see the small office

"M.K. Gandhi/Attorney." Several clients waits, most of them

conspicuously poor. Sonja's tone is loaded with foreboding.

SONJA:

They're going to change the pass

laws.

Gandhi absorbs the news stiffly.

SMUTS'S OFFICE - INTERIOR - DAY

A strong masculine hand scrawls a signature across a document.

SMUTS'S VOICE-OVER

It's taken time, but it needed to be

done fairly. We didn't want to create

an injustice simply because Mr. Gandhi

was abusing our existing legislation.

Beneath the signature we see the boldly printed

identification:
Jan Christian Smuts.

SECOND VOICE:

Just one second, sir, please.

Another angle. A cameraman records the moment with a flash

photo. General Smuts, whose presence is equal to his office,

addresses someone out of shot as a male secretary removes

the document.

SMUTS:

But on a short trip, I wouldn't spend

too much time on the Indian question,

Mr. Walker. It's a tiny factor in

South African life.

The reporter who stands opposite him is Walker, much, much

younger, almost boyish compared to the way we saw him at the

funeral.

WALKER:

(a helpless shrug)

It's news at the moment. I will

certainly report on your mines and

the economy -- but I would like to

meet this Mr. Gandhi.

Smuts has risen. He knows how to concede with grace.

SMUTS:

Of course. We Westerners have a

weakness for these -- these

spiritually inclined men of India.

But as an old lawyer, let me warn

you, Mr. Gandhi is as shrewd a man

as you will ever meet, however

"otherworldly" he may seem. But I'm

sure you're enough of a reporter to

see that.

The gaze is firm, strong, cynical...

TENT - THE FARM - EXTERIOR - DAY

The sides are half up, but it is dusty and hot. This is where

the magazine Indian Opinion is printed and we see stacks of

it lying around. A short Westerner (Albert West) is running

the simple printing press which is powered by a crude

generator. A small staff helping him. A Sikh, a Muslim, a

couple of Hindus, two young boys.

Gandhi and Walker are approaching the tent from the river,

Gandhi discoursing earnestly.

GANDHI:

...so it's not "spiritualism" or

"nationalism" -- we're not against

anything but the idea that people

can't live together.

They've reached the entrance to the tent, and he gestures

in.

GANDHI:

You see -- Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs,

Jews -- even Christians.

This last remark has been directed toward Charlie Andrews,

who sits near them at a cluttered table, typing on an old

typewriter. He waves, and Gandhi shouts out to them all over

the putt-putt of the generator:

GANDHI:

Mr. Walker! Of The New York Times!

They nod. One of the Hindus bows with his hands clasped

together. Gandhi hands Walker a copy of Indian Opinion and

they start across the relatively barren field toward some

other tents, Walker glancing at the paper. Gandhi watches

him, grinning.

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