The author and the text:

Nayantara Sehgal (1927-) is one of the first female Indian writers in English to receive wide recognition. Her fiction deals with India’s response to the crisis brought about by political changes. She won the Sahitya Academy award in 1986 for her novel Rich like Us.

The text, an extract from Nayantara Sehgal’s memoir Prison and Chocolate Cake, recounts the incidents following the death of Gandhiji. It vividly describes not only the author’s personal sense of loss, but also the collective grief of the entire nation at the passing away of Mahatma Gandhi.

Unit 1

I was having tea at home on the evening of 30th January, 1948, when I was called to Birla house by an urgent telephone. Gandhiji had been shot on his way to a prayer meeting. I was numb with shock as I got into the car.

At the Birla House, Gandhiji’s relatives and followers had gathered round his body. There was silence in the room as Gandhiji breathed his last. Words of Bapuji’s death had spread through Delhi like a flame fanned by wind. Sad groups of men and women had collected around Birla House. Out of every window one could see a brown blur of faces. They did not make a sound. There was an unnatural silence. It was as if time stood still for those few minutes.

The people were too stunned to speak in the beginning. Later they clamoured wildly, shouting and crying. They jostled one another in a stampede to break into the house. They calmed a little when it was announced that they would be allowed to see Gandhiji before the funeral.

When one is faced with the shock of a loved one’s death, one whimpers: “What will become of me now that he has left me?” This was surely the question uppermost in the mind of the mourning people. They looked like lost children. It was the question in many of our hearts as we sat, still shocked and unbelieving. We listened to the broadcast telling the people of India that their Bapu was no more.

Word Nest (Unit 1)

Comprehension Exercises (Unit 1)

Unit 2

Gandhiji’s funeral was to take place the day after his death. Hours in advance, people lined the route the funeral procession was to follow. Padmasi, Mrs Naidu’s daughter, spoke for us all when she said simply: we will walk. It is the last time we shall be walking with Bapu.

It was an agonizing walk. Thousands silently watched the procession. Bapu lay on an open truck covered with flowers. Thousands of people wept, trying to touch Bapu’s feet. It was impossible to move in the thick crowd.

As I moved forward slowly I understood I was not merely in the midst of grieving people. This was even more than the funeral procession of India’s beloved leader. I was among people for whom walking with Bapu had a special meaning. We had walked with Bapu over the rough and smooth of India’s recent history. We could not now accept the fact that the man who had led us over many difficult paths, was never going to walk with us again. Bapu’s slight figure had walked, staff in hand, over a large part of India. To walk is to make slow progress. It is to think with clarity and closely look at all that is around you, from small insects to the horizon in the distance. Moreover, to walk was often the only way open to the average Indian. It required no vehicle except his own body and cost him nothing but his energy. Gandhiji took this necessity, as he took much that was commonplace and transformed it into a joyful effort.

Word Nest (Unit 2)

Comprehension Exercises (Unit 2)

Unit 3

Some days after the funeral, a special train took Gandhiji’s ashes to Allahabad. The compartment was decked with flowers. People on the train sang *bhajans*. People did not weep anymore for they could feel Gandhiji’s presence amid the flowers and the songs. At every station sorrowful crowds filled the platform. Amid song and prayer the train reached Allahabad. The ashes were immersed in the Ganges where a huge crowd had gathered at the bank. Afterwards we all went back to Delhi.

Back in Delhi, I felt at sea. I had not directly walked with Gandhiji, gone to prison at his call or made any sacrifice for my country. My sisters and I, and other young people like me, had been merely onlookers. But still I felt at sea. I felt I had grown up within a magic circle. With Bapu’s passing away, I felt the magic circle had vanished, leaving me unprotected.

With an effort I roused myself. I asked myself —had Bapu lived and died for nothing? How could I so easily lose courage when he was no longer there? My values were not so weak. Millions of people would have been ordinary folk but for Bapu. He brought them out of indifference and awakened them to one another’s suffering. What if now Bapu is gone? We were still there, young, strong and proud to bear his banner before us.

Bapu had passed away but his India would continue to live in his children.

Word Nest (Unit 3)

Comprehension Exercises (Unit 3)

Grammar in Use

Writing Activities