Gandhi by Kathleen Kudlinski

Author:Kathleen Kudlinski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

Within days, Kasturbai had the baby.

Everyone gathered to see the new mother and her child. They all cooed, “How beautiful!” and “She is perfect.” “A new Gandhi!” and “A blessing!”

But when Kasturbai could not hear, they said other things. “The child is so weak!” “She does not cry for food!” “Why doesn’t that baby squirm and wiggle? Something is very wrong with her.”

Mohan could tell the baby was ill when he held her in his arms. Kasturbai feared the worst. “What if she dies?” she wailed to her husband.

“It is in the hands of the gods,” Mohan said. His eyes filled with tears. “Her soul will just come back in another body, you know.”

“Why did she have to leave our family?” Kasturbai wailed when the baby died. “Are the gods punishing us?”

Mohan had a terrible thought: What if his weakness was to blame? He had turned to Kasturbai for comfort when Bapu was dying. “I don’t think so,” he lied.

“At sixteen, you are both young,” Ba said, after the baby had been set adrift in the river. “There will be other children. You still have years to give me grandsons and granddaughters. Just you wait.” There was such joy in her voice that Kasturbai smiled a little. Even Mohan relaxed.

The family grieved the death of Bapu and of the little nameless one. The house was full of sadness. Mohan plunged back into schoolwork. He had a goal now: his dharma to become a lawyer. Kasturbai clung to him.

Soon she had an announcement for the family. “Mohan and I will be having another baby,” she said. When everyone began to congratulate them, Kasturbai held up her hand. “I will not believe this until I hear him cry like a healthy baby.”

She left soon after this to spend months with her old family. Mohan’s grades rose. He entered his last year in high school. He kept exercising his willpower and studying his religion.

Kasturbai returned in a few months. The household waited to see if she could have a healthy child. They did not even celebrate at the childbirth.

“It is a son,” Ba told Mohan.

“And . . . ?” Mohan asked, before he even asked to see the child. “And he seems very healthy,” his mother said with a smile.

Soon the house was full of the baby’s lusty cries. He ate and wiggled and grabbed at fingers. “Little Harilal is fine,” the priest said. “Kasturbai is a wonderful mother. They will both thrive now.”

They did. Harilal was just walking when Mohan went to a college three hours away from home.

Mohan was miserable. He missed Kasturbai. He missed Ba, too. And he could not understand all of the professor’s words. Mohan could read English easily. Spoken English was much harder for him. Mohan was tired of the struggle.

“You aren’t thinking of dropping out of school, are you?” Joshi asked. It was vacation time. A family conference had been called. All of the uncles and brothers sat in a circle on cushions and mats, talking about Mohan’s future.

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