Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76Plough Quarterly • Summer 2015 35 would remain one for the next eighteen years, until moving to Uganda, when I gave it up in order to dine in fellowship with my African brethren.) From that day on, I began to follow Gandhi’s teachings. Despite my conflicting feelings toward British missionaries, whom I admired for their sacrificial work to uplift the so-called untouchables in Kerala, I began to participate in the Quit India movement pressing for India’s independence from Britain. Although as a twelve-year- old I would not have been able to articulate what drew me to Gandhi, I now see four facets of his life and teaching as keys to understanding him. First, truth and nonviolence were identical to him; they supported each other and gave coherence to his life. Nonviolence was not just a methodology or a “Gandhian tactic” as some have labeled it, but his religion itself. Truth is the ultimate reality, the climax of our search – the point where all our coverings and curtains are taken off. We do not know if he saw truth as an idea or as a person (“I am the Truth”), but he openly lived out the answer to the question “What is truth?” Second, simplicity. Simplicity is the heart of India’s age-old spiritual search. To Gandhi it was not just in lifestyle, but simplicity in all his actions. He simplified his dress code from that of the Western lawyer to that of the Indian sadhu, prompting Winston Churchill to call him a “half-naked fakir.” Gandhi dressed this way in England as well, even when he met King George V in Buckingham Palace at the king’s request. When the British press questioned the appropriateness of this dress for such a meeting, he replied that the king, as emperor of India, was wearing enough for two people, including clothing stolen from India’s poor. Gandhi’s own simplicity was thus a reflection of his nonviolence and compassion: he felt that if he used anything more than was absolutely necessary, he would be robbing a poorer brother or sister. For the same reason, he always travelled in what some now call the “cattle class” in Indian trains and followed the communal ashram style of living, remaining accessible to all who wished to meet him. Third, Gandhi proclaimed and practiced the dignity of manual labor. He believed that no one has a right to eat unless he is willing to get mud on his hands and participate in the production of food. He taught his students never to make anyone else do a task that we felt to be below our own dignity. Despite being so well known and honored, he cleaned the latrines himself. Finally, Gandhi’s life was transparent. He revealed his mind in advance to all who wanted to catch him for some fault. The secret police officer appointed to watch him for political reasons found him an easy assignment: he just had to ask Gandhi what he was going to speak about, and he would tell him. Yet those of us who admired his profound thoughts and practical actions felt the depth of his vision, his gift of withdrawal in the hurly-burly of an active and busy life, and his ability to relax, reflect, and meditate inside the storm. I never forgot my boyhood encounter with Gandhi, and his voice continued to influence my life. In 1947, when India became independent, Gandhi reminded me of Saint John in his old age, who constantly repeated: “Little children, love one another.”