Gandhi Page #26

SHUKLA:

...I've wanted to speak to you for a

long time.

He looks up at Gandhi almost sheepishly. He does not eat

yet, but his hunger is evident. Ba sits at one side in the

shadows watching him as intently as Gandhi.

SHUKLA:

...our crops... we can't sell them...

We have no money... but the landlords

take the same rent.

His voice is choked and near to tears, resonant with the

unspoken agony his words mean for him and the others like

him. He looks at Gandhi nervously for a moment, then puts

the food to his mouth like a man who is starving, and trying

desperately not to show it.

Close shot. Ba. The solemn intensity of her gaze reflects

her identification with the man's agony. She glances up at

Gandhi...

TRAIN STATION - CHAMPARAN - EXTERIOR - NIGHT

The camera is low, shooting along the track toward the light

of an approaching train. From its distant glow we can see

that people line the platform of the small station, waiting,

but we cannot tell how thick the crowd may be.

The station house. An open staff car pulls up through the

press of the crowd. An English captain leaps out and pushes

aggressively through the mass of bodies toward the platform.

Again the darkness of the ill-lit station and the angle of

the camera limit our vision.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

Clear the way there! Get out of the

way!

A detail of British troops, already on the station, moves in

his wake, just as aggressive toward the crowd as he is.

SERGEANT PUTNAM:

Sir! Up here!

The sergeant is on the low sloping roof of the station. The

captain turns briskly to two of his detail.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

Give me a leg up, will you!

The two men join hands and the captain is hoisted up with an

assist from Sergeant Putnam. We hear the train stop in the

background.

On the roof. The captain stands erect.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

What the hell is it, Sergeant?

He is now standing and his face has frozen. It needs no answer

from Putnam.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

Jesus...!

He turns his head slowly, his mouth agape at His point of

view. The whole of the obscurely lit platform is covered

thick with waiting crowds. They engulf the station house,

back and front, and on the other side of the train more people

are packed all along its length, and beyond them along the

narrow street that stretches through the little collection

of houses adjoining the station, every rooftop is covered --

men, women with babes in arms, children. There is no

excitement, hardly any movement -- just a vast congregation

of people, waiting silently is the darkness -- and as the

camera pans we see that the crowd extends, indiscernible,

even beyond the range of light.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

(awed, a little

frightened)

What the hell is going on?

SERGEANT PUTNAM:

I don't know, sir. The agent says

they got a telegram and it just said,

he is coming... and gave the time of

the train.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

Who the hell is he?

SERGEANT PUTNAM:

I don't know, sir.

Featuring Gandhi. He has stepped down from the train. Shukla

guides him, Ba and Charlie a step or two behind. Gandhi moves

through the silent crowd, his hands in the pranam, bowing a

little to either side. As he advances, the crowd parts -- it

is almost eerily silent. As their clothes indicate, the area

is Muslim, so some salaam (a touch of the hand to the

forehead) and a few tentatively make the pranam back to Gandhi

as he moves through them. Most of the faces are gaunt and

lean. A destitute people.

And suddenly there is a commotion and the sound of boots on

the concrete platform, and the English captain shoves his

way through to confront Gandhi down the little aisle that

was being made for him. The sergeant and part of the detail

and behind the captain.

The captain stares. Then he looks around at the crowd,

suspiciously, a touch of inner fear, then back to Gandhi.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

Who the devil are you?

GANDHI:

My name is Gandhi. Mohandas K. Gandhi.

There is a flicker of recognition, but uncertain. The captain

stiffens; a steeling of the will. Another glance at the crowd,

this time with an air of outraged authority.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

Well, whoever you are, we don't want

you here. I suggest you get back on

that train before it leaves the

station.

GANDHI:

(calmly, a glance at

the crowd)

They seem to want me.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

Now look here. I'll put you under

arrest if you'd prefer?

GANDHI:

On what charge?

It has the cold assurance of a lawyer, and the Captain is a

little shaken by it. He glances at Charlie who stands behind

Gandhi now, and it makes him all the more uncertain.

ENGLISH CAPTAIN:

I don't want any trouble.

Rate this script:5.0 / 3 votes