Gandhi Page #6

Gandhi wets his lips nervously. He glances with a little

apprehension at the police, then takes his notes from his

pocket and moves to the front of the fire. He holds up his

hand for attention. He forces a smile -- then starts reading --

GANDHI:

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have asked

you to gather here to help us proclaim

our right to be treated as equal

citizens of the Empire.

It is flat and dull, like someone reading a speech to

themselves, and those in the crowd who had hesitated before

wandering off shrug and continue on their way. Gandhi is

unnerved by it a little but he struggles on -- louder, but

just as colorlessly.

GANDHI:

We do not seek conflict. We know the

strength of the forces arrayed against

us, know that because of them we can

only use peaceful means -- but we

are determined that justice will be

done!

This last has come more firmly, and he lifts his head to the

crowd, as though expecting a reaction. Three or four committed

supporters applaud as on cue, but his technique is so inexpert

that it draws nothing but blank faces from the bulk of them.

He glances nervously at Ba, who is embarrassed for them both

now. She wraps her sari more closely around her and her

expression is a wife's "I told you so" -- sufferance,

mortification and loyalty, all in one. Gandhi wets his lips

again -- and takes a square of cardboard from his pocket --

his "pass."

GANDHI:

The symbol of our status is embodied

in this pass -- which we must carry

at all times, but no European even

has to have.

He holds it up. A constable glances at the police sergeant.

GANDHI:

And the first step to changing our

status is to eliminate this difference

between us.

And he turns and drops his pass in the wire basket over the

fire. The flames engulf it.

The police sergeant's eyes go wide with disbelief. The crowd

murmurs in shock. At last Gandhi has got a reaction, but the

dropping of the card has been as matter-of-fact as his

speaking, with none of the drama one might expect from so

startling a gesture. Even so, a constable glances at the

police sergeant again, "Do we take him?". The sergeant just

shakes his head, "Wait."

Khan moves up to Gandhi as the tremor of reaction ripples

through the crowd.

KHAN:

(quietly)

You write brilliantly, but you have

much to learn about handling men.

He takes Gandhi's notes from him, and faces the crowd.

KHAN:

(the reading not

fluent, but firm and

pointed)

We do not want to ignite... the fear

or hatred of anyone. But we ask you --

Hindu, Muslim and Sikh -- to help us

light up the sky... and the minds of

the British authorities -- with our

defiance of this injustice.

It is the end of the speech. He looks at the crowd. No one

knows quite what to do. Gandhi harumphs -- gesturing to a

shallow box Singh holds. Kahn turns back, extemporizing rather

lamely.

KHAN:

We will now burn the passes of our

committee and its supporters. We ask

you to put your passes on the fire

with --

POLICE SERGEANT:

Oh, no, you bloody well don't!

He has stepped forward with his constables, who have faced

the crowd, halting the tentative movements of the few

committed supporters toward the fire.

POLICE SERGEANT:

Those passes are government property!

And I will arrest the first man who

tries to burn one!

He is facing the crowd. Behind him, Khan holds himself erect

and slowly takes his own card from his pocket. He holds it

aloft and then lowers it resolutely into the wire basket.

The crowd reacts and the sergeant turns just in time to see

it dropped in the flame.

POLICE SERGEANT:

Take him away!

He gestures to a constable, who turns from the crowd and

marches to Khan, seizing him by the arm and marching him to

the paddy wagon. As he passes the sergeant, the sergeant

takes his billy club, and faces the crowd, rapping the club

menacingly against his hand.

POLICE SERGEANT:

Now -- are there any more?!

Behind him, Gandhi wavers indecisively a moment, then takes

the box from Singh and moves to the fire. Ba holds her hand

to her mouth -- terrified. Again the crowd's reaction turns

the sergeant. Gandhi is at the fire. For a second, his eyes

lock with the sergeant's -- and then nervously, he takes a

card and drops it in the wire basket, and another.

POLICE SERGEANT:

You little sammy bastard -- I --

He has leapt across the distance between them, knocking the

box from Gandhi's hands, sending the cards flying and shoving

Gandhi to the ground. He turns and faces the crowd angrily,

pointing the billy club threateningly.

POLICE SERGEANT:

You want that kind of trouble -- you

can have it!

Rate this script:5.0 / 3 votes