Gandhi Page #25

NEHRU:

Thank you . . .

He looks around the ashram a little dismally.

FIRST FRIEND:

(drolly, as he climbs

out)

Come on! I'm anxious to meet this

new "force"!

ASHRAM - TREE BY RIVER - EXTERIOR - DAY

Gandhi sits under a tree, peeling potatoes. Nehru and his

friends are sprawled out around him. Beside them, the river;

in the background the business of the ashram goes on.

GANDHI:

I try to live like an Indian, as you

see... it is stupid of course, because

in our country it is the British who

decide how an Indian lives -- what

he may buy, what he may sell. And

from their luxury in the midst of

our terrible poverty they instruct

us on what is justice and what is

sedition.

(He looks at them, a

teasing but mordant

grin.)

So it is only natural that our best

young minds assume an air of Eastern

dignity, while greedily assimilating

every Western weakness as quickly as

they can acquire it.

His smile is sardonic, but genuine, theirs embarrassed and

self-conscious.

NEHRU:

(defensively)

If we have Home Rule that will change.

Gandhi has finished the last potato. He glances at Nehru

then drops the potato in the bowl. He lifts the pail of

peelings to Nehru.

GANDHI:

Would you, please?

Nehru in his fine linen suit takes the pail awkwardly. His

friends watch with amusement, but they too rise to follow as

they head for the kitchen.

GANDHI:

And why should the English grant us

Home Rule? Here, we must take the

peelings to the goats.

He re-directs Nehru toward a trough where two or three goats

are tethered, but he keeps right on talking.

GANDHI:

We only make wild speeches, or perform

even wilder acts of terrorism. We've

bred an army of anarchists but not

one single group that can really

fight the British anywhere.

NEHRU:

(surprised)

I thought you were against fighting.

They have reached the trough.

GANDHI:

Just spread it around -- they like

the new peelings mixed with the

rotting ones.

Nehru has carefully walked around something distasteful on

the ground, now he dumps the peelings along the trough and

spreads them "delicately." Gandhi scoops some peelings from

the trough to feed a goat that nudges him.

GANDHI:

Where there is injustice, I've always

believed in fighting.

(He looks at Nehru.)

The question is do you fight to change

things, or do you fight to punish.

(His smile.)

For myself, I have found that we are

all such sinners we should leave

punishment to God. And if we really

want to change things there are better

ways of doing it than by derailing

trains or slashing someone with a

sword.

He meets Nehru's gaze, and for a moment something deeper

than argument passes between them. Then something catches

Gandhi's eye. He looks off. Ba stands, watching him, waiting.

BA:

The fire is ready.

Gandhi turns. The goat is reaching for his bowl of potatoes.

He pushes it away and starts for the kitchen.

GANDHI:

You see, even here we live under

tyranny.

Nehru grins, captured by Gandhi's seriousness, and his humor.

He hasn't moved, and neither have his friends. They watch

Gandhi as he carries his bowl of potatoes to Ba.

NEHRU:

(reflectively)

I told you...

FIRST FRIEND:

Hm... but look at him. Some "fighter"!

I can see the British shaking now.

Gandhi plods on toward the kitchen, carrying the bowl of

potatoes.

THE RIVER BED AT THE ASHRAM - EXTERIOR - DAY

Clothes are dipped in the brownish water. Ba and an ashramite

woman squat by the river, washing clothes. It is long past

the monsoons and they have had to come far out in the riverbed

to the water. But they are laughing at their task.

BA:

But it's the ink that is the most

diffic --

She stops, because coming along the riverbed toward them is

a man (Shukla) who looks as though he has come a long, weary

way. His face is gaunt, his little bundle of belongings

pathetic. As he nears them, he pauses.

SHUKLA:

I am looking for Mr. Gandhi...

GANDHI'S HUT - ASHRAM - INTERIOR - DUSK

Shadowed, the end of the day. Gandhi sits cross-legged,

watching solemnly as Shukla reaches with his fingers into a

bowl to eat. The fingers are thin, half-starved, like the

man himself.

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