Gandhi Page #2

Godse swallows dryly, tension lining his face -- then he

moves boldly out into Gandhi's path, bumping Manu, knocking

a vessel for incense from her hands.

MANU:

(gently)

Brother -- Bapu is already late for

prayers.

Ignoring her, his nerves even more taut, Godse joins his

hands together and bows in greeting to the Mahatma.

And now we see Gandhi in full shot. The cheap glasses, the

nut-brown head, the warm, eager eyes. He smiles and joins

his hands together to exchange Godse's greeting.

Godse moves his right hand rapidly from the stance of prayer

to his jacket, in an instant -- it holds a gun, and he fires

point blank at Gandhi -- loud, startling -- once, twice...

thrice.

Gandhi's white shawl is stained with blood as he falls.

GANDHI:

Oh, God... oh, God...

Amid the screams and sounds of chaos we dissolve through to

KINGSWAY - NEW DELHI - EXTERIOR - DAY

Close shot. Soldier's feet moving in the slow step, half-

step, step of the requiem march...

Full shot. The huge funeral procession -- crowds such as

have never been seen on the screen massed along the route.

People everywhere, clinging to monuments, lamp standards,

trees -- and as the camera pulls back from the funeral cortege

it reveals more and more... and more. All are silent. We

only hear a strange, rhythmic shuffling, pierced by an

occasional wail of grief. We see the soldiers and sailors

lining the route, their hands locked together in one seemingly

endless chain. We see the two hundred men of the Army, Navy

and Air Force drawing the Army weapon-carrier that bears the

body of Gandhi.

And finally we see Gandhi lying on the weapon-carrier,

surrounded by flowers, a tiny figure in this ocean of grief

and reverence.

THE COMMENTATORS' ROSTRUM - KINGSWAY - NEW DELHI - EXTERIOR -

DAY:

Commentators from all over the world are covering the

ceremony. We concentrate on one, let us say the most

distinguished American broadcaster of the time, Edward R.

Murrow, who sits on the makeshift platform, a microphone

marked "CBS" before him, describing the procession as

technicians and staff move quietly around him.

MURROW:

(clipped, weighted)

...The object of this massive tribute

died as he had always lived -- a

private man without wealth, without

property, without official title or

office...

KINGSWAY - NEW DELHI - EXTERIOR - DAY

As the cortege continues on its way, we get shots of the

marching soldiers, of the faces of Sikhs, and Tamils, Anglo-

Indians, Moslems from the north, Marathas from the south,

blue-eyed Parsees, dark-skinned Keralans...

MURROW'S VOICE-OVER

Mahatma Gandhi was not a commander

of great armies nor ruler of vast

lands, he could boast no scientific

achievements, no artistic gift...

Yet men, governments and dignitaries

from all over the world have joined

hands today to pay homage to this

little brown man in the loincloth

who led his country to freedom...

We see the throng, following the weapon-carrier bier of Gandhi

as it slowly inches its way along the Kingsway.

Mountbatten, tall, handsome, bemedalled, walks at the head

of dignitaries from many lands... and behind them a broad

mass of Indians. For a moment we see their sandalled feet

moving along the roadway and realize their quiet, rhythmic

shuffling is the only noise this vast assemblage has produced.

MURROW'S VOICE-OVER

Pope Pius, the Archbishop of

Canterbury, President Truman, Chiang

Kai-shek, The Foreign Minister of

Russia, the President of France...

are among the millions here and abroad

who have lamented his passing. In

the words of General George C.

Marshall, the American Secretary of

State, "Mahatma Gandhi had become

the spokesman for the conscience of

mankind..."

In the crowd following the bier we pick out the tall, English

figure of Mirabehn, dressed in a sari, her face taut in a

grief that seems ready to break like the Ganges in flood.

Near her a tall, heavy-set man, Germanic, still powerful of

build and mien though his white hair and deep lines suggest

a man well into his sixties (Kallenbach). He too marches

with a kind of numb air of loss that is too personal for

national mourning.

On the edge of the street an American newspaperman (Walker)

watches as the bier passes him. He has been making notes,

but his hand stops now and we see the profile of Gandhi from

his point of view as the weapon-carrier silently rolls by.

It is personal, close. Walker clenches his teeth and there

is moisture in his eyes as he looks down. He tries to bring

his attention to his pad again, but his heart is not in it

and he stares with hollow emptiness at the street and the

horde of passing feet following the bier.

MURROW'S VOICE-OVER

...a man who made humility and simple

truth more powerful than empires."

And Albert Einstein added,

"Generations to come will scarce

believe that such a one as this ever

in flesh and blood walked upon this

earth."

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