Gandhi Page #15

SERGEANT:

What the hell are we supposed to do

now?

CIVILIAN:

(watching the

procession narrowly)

Let them march... In our own sweet

time, in our own sweet way -- we'll

get them.

SMALL CHURCH - SOUTH AFRICA - INTERIOR - DAY

We are close on Charlie Andrews.

CHARLIE:

Some of you may be rejoicing that

Mr. Gandhi has at last been put into

prison.

The congregation is listening to him stiffly,

unsympathetically, and there is more than one murmur of assent

at his words. The clergyman who has given Charlie the use of

his pulpit sits beneath it, embarrassed, but sticking

resolutely to his decision to give Charlie a hearing.

CHARLIE:

But I would ask you -- assembled

here in this house of God -- to

recognize that we are witnessing

something new, something so

unexpected, so unusual that it is

not surprising the Government is at

a loss. What Mr. Gandhi has forced

us to do is ask questions about

ourselves.

A few men in the congregation rise and pointedly escort their

families from the church. Charlie struggles on.

CHARLIE:

As Christians, those are difficult

questions to answer. How do we treat

men who defy an unjust law -- men

who will not fight, but will not

comply?

More of the congregation rise and march from the church...

though a few pointedly do not.

PRISON YARD - EXTERIOR - DAY

Small, packed. Gandhi is threading his way in a line for

soup. But it is a line that winds through masses of prisoners,

some with bowls, eating, some not yet in the line.

As Gandhi near the two stone blocks that hold the large

barrels of soup, he sees that Khan is serving from one of

them. He too wears a prison uniform and there is a bandage

on his head. When he turns and reacts to the sight of Gandhi --

GANDHI:

They're sparing no one, I see.

KHAN:

No. You were the surprise. It's been

all over the prison. We thought they'd

be too afraid of the English press.

GANDHI:

So did I.

He takes his soup from Khan.

KHAN:

(acidly)

Don't worry about the meat -- it's

Hindu

(referring to the

soup)

-- there's not a trace.

Gandhi smiles, but they turn as the gate opens and a paddy

wagon is backed into the press of prisoners. Khan shakes his

head.

KHAN:

I don't know who they've left out

there to do the work. There can't be

one mine left open. Have they touched

the women?

GANDHI:

My wife publicly defied the law.

They've arrested her and four others.

KHAN:

(angrily)

The fools!

(He spills some soup.)

Sorry...

GANDHI:

It's split the Government.

KHAN:

Well, that's one victory.

Gandhi looks around the crowded yard at the soiled bandages,

the defiant, determined faces.

GANDHI:

If we hold firm, it won't be the

last.

KHAN:

Don't worry -- I've never seen men

so determined. You've given them a

way to fight... And I don't think --

He is distracted by a phalanx of guards (an officer and four

men) pushing their way through the prisoners.

PRISON OFFICER:

Gandhi! I want Gandhi! Which sammy

is it?

The prisoners are moving back from them resentfully but their

glances reveal who Gandhi is. The prison officer's eyes fall

on him.

CITY STREET - JOHANNESBURG - EXTERIOR - DAY

A side street, but active. Gandhi -- now manacled -- is being

marched down the pavement before two guards. The prison

officer strides in front of them. People in the street stop

and turn, staring. That part of Gandhi that is still the

dandy is discomfited, but there is a growing part of him

that defies appearances.

Featuring a doorway. It is the side door of a large imposing

building. The prison officer leads his little procession

toward it. He knocks and the door opens. The tall civil

servant has been waiting for them. The prison officer reaches

forward and undoes Gandhi's manacles.

GOVERNMENT BUILDING - INTERIOR - DAY

The tall civil servant, moving with aloof distaste for his

assignment, walks ahead of Gandhi, who in turn is followed

by one of the prison guards, toward a grand staircase that

is at right angles to them (i.e. facing the front of the

building). People working in offices pause to stare at Gandhi

as he moves along, more uncomfortably aware of his prison

garb than ever.

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