Gandhi Page #46

Gandhi smiles.

GANDHI:

And you've come all this way because

you think something is going to

happen?

WALKER:

Hm.

(Then weightedly)

Is it?

GANDHI:

Perhaps. I've come here to think

about it.

They both watch the waves beat on the shore a moment, the

changing hues of the sunrise on the whites of Porbandar.

GANDHI:

(musing)

Do you remember much of South Africa?

WALKER:

A great deal.

GANDHI:

I've traveled so far -- and thought

so much.

(He smiles in self-

mockery, and turns

toward the city.)

As you can see, my city was a sea

city -- always filled with Hindus

and Muslims and Sikhs and Jews and

Persians.

(He looks at Walker.)

The temple where you were yesterday

is of my family's sect, the Pranami.

It was Hindu of course but the priests

used to read from the Muslim Koran

and the Hindu Gita, moving from one

to the other as though it mattered

not at all which book was read as

long as God was worshipped.

He looks out to sea, and we intercut his face with Walker's,

the sea, and the town itself as the sun turns it white.

GANDHI:

When I was a boy I used to sing a

song in that temple: "A true disciple

knows another's woes as his own. He

bows to all and despises none...

Earthly possessions hold him not."

Like all boys I said the words, not

thinking of what they meant or how

they might be influencing me.

(He looks at Walker...

then out to the sea

again, shaking his

head.)

I've traveled so far... and all I've

done is come back home.

Walker studies him as this profound man reaches, in his middle

years, a profound insight.

Featuring Gandhi staring out to sea, his mind locked in

reflection, and suddenly his head lifts, his eyes become

alert, he is caught by some excitement which he weighs for a

moment, then he stands, his manner suddenly tingling with

optimism.

Walker stares at him, then at what Gandhi seems to be looking

at.

His point of view. The waves lapping the shore below them.

Walker turns back to Gandhi, puzzled. But there is no

mistaking the sudden glow in Gandhi's face.

WALKER:

You know what you're going to do.

Gandhi looks at him, a teasing smile.

GANDHI:

It would have been very uncivil of

me to let you make such a long trip

for nothing.

The grin broadens, and then he starts briskly down the

promontory. Walker scrambles up after him.

WALKER:

Where are you going?

Gulls fly over them, squawking in the growing light. Gandhi

pauses, looking up at the gulls, then back down to the sea.

GANDHI:

I'm going back to the ashram

(then firmly)

and then I'm going to prove to the

new Viceroy that the King's writ no

longer runs in India!

He turns from the sea to Walker, his eyes confident, elated,

then he continues on down the promontory. Still baffled,

Walker glances at the sea, at him, then hurries after.

Full shot. The waves running against the shore...

LORD IRWIN'S OFFICE - INTERIOR - DAY

Close shot -- the Viceroy, a "new one," Lord Irwin.

IRWIN:

Salt?

Another angle. He is looking in astonishment at his principal

secretary. His ADC, a general, a brigadier, a senior police

officer are with him. Like him they hold the same offices,

but are a new team.

PRINCIPAL SECRETARY

Yes, sir. He is going to march to

the sea and make salt.

Irwin looks at him, still trying to penetrate the significance

of the act. The senior police officer helps.

SENIOR POLICE OFFICER

There is a Royal Monopoly on the

manufacture of salt, sir. It's illegal

to make it or sell it without a

Government license.

Irwin has listened; it's beginning to make a little sense.

IRWIN:

All right -- he's breaking the law.

What will he be depriving us of, two

rupees of salt tax?

PRINCIPAL SECRETARY

It's not a serious attack on the

revenue, sir. Its primary importance

is symbolic.

IRWIN:

Don't patronize me, Charles.

The principal secretary blanches.

PRINCIPAL SECRETARY

No, sir. I -- in this climate, sir,

nothing lives without water -- or

salt. Our absolute control of it is

a control on the pulse of India.

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