Following his visit to Sevagram, Arun Sripati reflects on what Gandhi and Gandhian values and ideology means to our lives, our society, our policies and our worlds.

Whenever people came to Mahatma Gandhi to ask how they could help in his work, his advice was, "Go work in the villages". Following his own advice, Gandhiji chose to settle in a small village, now called Sevagram in Maharashtra. The choice was not random; it was located a night's journey away from most of India, in one of the poorest districts, and had a large Harijan population. There, quietly, Gandhiji began his visionary village work. Built from scratch with local resources (Gandhiji insisted that all materials be obtained within 70 km), the Sevagram ashram's earthy appeal and historical importance draw literally hundreds of thousands of people each year.

I was one such visitor to Sevagram. I had realized that to understand Gandhi was to understand India and vice-versa. For, how else could a single person command such enormous power over 300 million Indians, many of whom hadn't even seen him? My only satisfactory answer, unless I took Gandhiji as a divine incarnation, was that he had tapped into the ways and aspirations of the Indian people that had been dormant throughout the years of British rule. His bold renunciation of possessions, his severe penances, his abiding faith - were all uniquely Indian and appealed to the core of our beings. One of the many people inspired by Gandhiji's ideas was Sri Dharampal, who used British records to reconstruct the advanced state of science, technology and society in pre-British India. Finding that Dharampalji lived in Sevagram, I arranged to spend a few days there.

After all, to understand India is a big part of myself.

The museum Gandhi
There's one Gandhi you can find in ample measure in Sevagram. It is the museum Gandhi, living in his photographs, statues, quotes and books. About 20 people still live in the ashram; many of them have known Gandhiji, whereas a few others are in the twenties or thirties, mostly women. They wear homespun khadi, follow all the ashram vows and gather each evening for a serene and beautiful prayer. It is common to see a few visitors, looking around curiously, reading the notices and quotes of Gandhiji put up everywhere. The huts of Gandhiji, Kasturba and several others are preserved in impeccable condition to this day. The huts stand solidly, yet they are made of the simplest materials - a type of mud found at the bottom of rivers, that sticks well together once it is dry. The floor is made similarly; the roof is made of wooden poles and thatched with coconut and palm leaves. The hut is naturally cooler than the outside, with ample ventilation - there is no need for a fan, let alone an air-conditioner - even during summer.

During my visit, I attend the opening session of an international seminar on "A culture of peace and non-violence". VIPs came in their big jeeps and cars, and the function started with the usual flowery tributes and bouquets. The show and pomp was hardly Gandhiian! After about ten minutes I had had enough. I was learning more from the ashram surroundings than from the seminar. Later, I found out that the seminar was organized essentially because some foriegners attending a conference on athiesm were interested in visiting Sevagram! I had no problems with anyone visiting Gandhiji, but you had to admit that God has a curious sense of humor in making a bunch of athiests discuss Gandhi, himself a deeply religious person.

The atomized Gandhi
When Gandhiji died, his ashes were strewn all across India. It's probably a fitting metaphor to the way Gandhiji appears in our minds today: scattered and atomized into anecdotes, quotes and books. It is barely possible to keep the context and the history of Gandhiji's life together in one's head. Today, even those of us who want to know about Gandhi, accept only some aspects of his personality, and ignore other incomprehensible aspects, without determining if they are important to understanding his immense hold on India. A classic example is his views on brahmacharya (celibacy), which had even his most devoted followers flustered. For all these reasons, the real Gandhi seems like a distant sun setting on the horizon, despite (and even due to) his open admissions of his faults. His profound critiques of modern civilization are even more perplexing to us today, caught as we are in the sweep of modernity.

Throughout my visit, my host Sri Shivdutt Mishraji replies to my queries about Gandhiji with a continuous stream of anecdotes that illustrate his points forcefully.

Modern healthcare
Our conversation turned to Gandhiji's views on health. Gandhiji felt that an active mind, healthy diet and good habits were enough to ensure good health. He even considered the number of doctors and hospitals as a measure of a society's sickness, not its health! This is contradictory to the modern view of development, in which every village should have a hospital or doctor. Modern medicine often treats the symptom and not the cause, and we have even accepted the strange practice of paying today for our future sicknesses!

Gandhiji was a great believer in the dignity of labor. Gandhiji felt that public servants, in particular, needed to participate in all manual labor, to get rid of their ahambhaav (ego). Even toilets were constructed so that the waste could be removed and used as manure for plants. Gandhiji's definition of waste was - in nature, nothing is really wasted; thus, anything that is not in its place should be considered waste.

I'm struck by how, in our modern civilization, we have centralized everything, including where our crap goes. Everything is recast into such gigantic proportions that nature has no chance of working her own ways, or recycling at her own pace.

The creation of untouchables
Gandhiji was a deeply religious person, yet orthodox Hindus hated him for his views on untouchability. At this point, Mishraji makes a comment about untouchability that has stuck in my mind forever: Before the British came to India, people did not use indoor toilets - mostly, they went out in the wild. So how could there be a separate caste of toilet cleaners? It must be that the British made people of some castes clean toilets for them, and these castes must then have been rejected by society.

I also spent some time browsing through Dharampalji's books; the picture that emerges of India is a highly decentralized society, which by its nature, was able to promote a wholesome development of human values. When a reporter asked Gandhiji, "What do you think of Western civilization?", Gandhiji replied, "I think it would be a good idea". Gandhiji rejected any machine that did not promote self-reliance and wholesome development among its users. Thus a sewing machine is good, but a cloth factory is not.

The power of renunciation
The evening after the international seminar, I was disappointed at the state of Gandhiji's legacy today. I ask Mishraji why is there no leader today of Gandhiji's calibre. Mishraji's explanation is that no leader today has the tej (radiance) that comes from tapasya (renunciation). I muse about this for a long time. Indeed, in Indian mythology, mighty warriors and sages obtain supernatural powers through tapasya. Perhaps there is really something to renunciation? It is directly opposed to the Western way of thinking, where you "go out and get what you want"; today, we pamper ourselves with material comforts. But any ancient Indian sage will tell you that true mental strength is obtained by renunciation, not by indulgence. But we have time for all this only in retirement.

Mishraji gives me an example of Gandhiji's willpower. When Gandhiji was released from prison in South Africa, the Indians told him how they had been trampled by horses, and beaten by the police. Realizing that his suffering was nothing compared to what they had undergone for his sake, he decided to undertake a penance: he decided to walk for one full year barefoot. He often had to walk on hot summer days on roads with melting tar. Still, he never wavered from his oath. Who among us today even aspires to that tapasya, or that willpower?

Parting notes: Two perspectives
The common mode of transportation around Sevagram is auto-rickshaws. These three-wheelers are built to carry three passengers, but enterprising autowallahs will take upto even seven! On one such crowded journey, I told the driver that I came to see Sevagram. He tells me that the ashram has done nothing for the people. He points to the crowd of autos. "Ask them. They will all say that business is not good. We need more factories where we can work." Then he adds, "Gandhiji ne sab ko topi pehnaya, par khud topi nahi pehna". I cannot fathom which meaning he implies! Maybe both.

The day before I left Sevagram, I visited the photo exhibit across the road. I strike a conversation with a gentle old man who has spent all his life there. He tells me, "Gandhi jaisa leader na kabhi thaa, na kabhi hoga". Everyone continues their work in the Gandhiian tradition, but deep in their hearts they know this truth and seem resigned to it.
Dr. Arun Sripati is a neuroscientist at the Carnegie Mellon University, USA.

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