Sacrifice for the country

AROUND 1990, a very close associate of Gandhiji died quietly in Anand, Gujarat. For those who have read the 147 letters which Gandhiji wrote to her, including one from Yeravada jail and one from a train and which were published by the Navjivan Trust in Ahmedabad, her death would have meant a significant loss. But, in the history of the nation, the name of this 112-year-old woman, like many others, went unrecorded. Now when we look into the crevices of history, these names emerge - telling us new stories, giving us a new history to record and to remember.

Her name was Ganga. Ganga was born into an orthodox family and was widowed at the age of 17. Until 1920, her life was similar to that of any other widow from an orthodox family. She probably stayed within the house most of the time, attending to the needs of the family, caring for the young and the sick. In 1920, she heard Gandhiji speak at a public meeting.

In an interview given in 1983, she said that she had gone out of curiosity but she listened to him spellbound, held by his magnetic voice, his conviction and the simplicity of his ideas. She wanted to hear him more often. Little knowing that this would change the entire course of her life, she went to the house of a family friend in Juhu, where Gandhiji often stayed often when he visited Mumbai. She listened to him talk to his followers.

One day she made bold to tell him that she wanted to dedicate her life to the Swadeshi movement and would he accept her as a volunteer? Gandhiji told her that he saw no reason why he should not. After a while, she received a letter from him asking her to join a small school he was running with a friend, to learn to spin on the charkha. When she went to the school, Gandhiji gave her an old, rickety spinning wheel and asked her to practise spinning. She took it home and repaired it. She began spinning on it, and after some time went to return the spinning wheel to Gandhiji. She took with her a few handkerchiefs that she and a few other women had made out of the cloth thus spun. In his characteristic way, Gandhiji told her that she was now properly initiated into the Swadeshi movement.

Ganga had done nothing but spin on the wheel within the four walls of her home, taking time off to do this as a daily routine. And yet this act, which she did to satisfy her own needs, made her take less travelled roads. Soon she told Gandhiji that she would like to leave her family and live in Sabarmati ashram. It was not an easy decision to live with. Life at the Ashram was not easy and often she longed for the household she had left behind, she missed the familiar surroundings and the love of her family. But she was not one to give up so easily. After a while, when Gandhiji asked her to take charge of the community kitchen, she readily agreed. He told her that she was going to be the Annapurna of the ashram. Ganga must have cooked in her household. But here she was in charge of feeding the whole ashram, managing the running of the kitchen and treating all the inmates as her own family. Gandhiji had warned her that his prestige as a just ashram head lay in her hands. Ganga carried out her duties successfully and came to be referred as Gangaba.

In 1983, when whe was interviewed, Gangaba's grey hair was cropped short - she explained the reason why. Sometimes she had to work in the ashram kitchen with practically no help. And one day she was late for the prayer meeting. Gandhiji delayed the meeting but asked her to explain why she was late. Gangaba did not want to complain against any of the inmates and, tears welling up in her eyes, she mumbled something about being delayed because she was doing up her hair. Gandhiji retorted, "If you care so much for beauty how will you care for the ashram inmates?" That night, she cropped her long hair short to show that these things did not really matter to her. Gandhiji was very sad when told about this.

When one reads all this one wonders why women like Gangaba had to prove their commitment to the cause in such a manner. Widows tonsured their heads and cropped their hair due to family pressure. A widow like Gangaba, committed to the cause of the Swadeshi movement, did the same for the sake of the nation. Did women have to prove themselves with similar gestures whether they were within the household or without? So what is it that changed in Gangaba's life? The questions are ours. But when we read about the life of Gangaba, we realise that her long hair was, for her, the last remaining vestige of what bound her to the norms of this world.

Having discarded it, she entered areas that where a normal householder would not venture into. Soon after the Dandi March, she led a group of women to picket before shops selling foreign cloth and liquor in Borsad town in the Kheda district of Gujarat. A volunteer was slapped by a constable when the picketeers courted arrest. Gangaba organised a protest march which was lathi-charged. She was hospitalised with severe head wounds. She was later arrested and sent to jail. That first trip to jail was followed by many more.

When Gandhiji abandoned the Sabarmati Ashram in the mid-1930s, he told the inmates to work in their own ways to awaken the public. Gangaba chose to settle in Bochasan and, in collaboration with trained persons, she ran a charitable hospital and a Bochasan shala. The work kept her busy, although she did go to see Bapu once in a way. Like many women who took part in the Swadeshi movement, marching, protesting, going to jail and raising their voice for independence, Gangaba was isolated from the mainstream politics. At the time gandhiji was assassinated, the leader who had brought her this far left her and many others like her behind to lead a life of sacrifice with no political power positions.

In the 1983 interview, Gangaba said that Bapu would have to be born again to save the country. But the question which arises in one's mind is; would our politics have been different if women like Gangaba, who left the comfort and security of a home to join the Swadeshi movement, had had a say in our politics? The answer is not simple. But it is a question which often haunts one.

C.S.LAKSHMI

C. S. Lakshmi is an independent researcher and a writer. She writes in Tamil under the presudonym Ambai. She has two short story collections and a translated one in English called A Purple Sea to her credit. She is the founder - trustee and director of SPARROW (sound and picture Archives for Researcher on Women).

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