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India was imbued with revolutionary ardor, when I had the fortune of meeting him. It was my birthday, and my father had took me to this man with whom I apparently shared the same birth date: 2nd October.
Despite the decades that have ensued our meeting, I remember it like yesterday when he had ruffled my hair and told me, "Son, one must maintain integrity in one's actions and thoughts, because you are the future of this nation!" I was only ten then, but those words had been carved in my conscience for perpetuity.
Two years later in 1947, when India had unshackled Herself from foreign rule, and the name of Gandhi had resounded in every corner of the world, my exultation of victory was overwhelming. My hero had led us to freedom.
After all these years, even as I become an octogenarian on my birthday today, for the Independence that you bestowed upon us, I love you, Gandhi...
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I hate going to school. I don't mind playing mischiefs with my friends, or running around the corridors in the recess, but I hate waking up early and furthermore I hate studies. All I want to do is play all day long. But Mommy and daddy says that, "If you want to become a big man in life, you must study!" But not today at least!
"Mommy, I am going down to play!"
I ran towards the garden where my other fifth-standard friends had already arrived. All the schools had holiday today. Yesterday, our teacher had told us, it's the birth anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi, father of our nation. Well, be it so! For the holiday that you give us each year, I love you, Gandhi...
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I hear a mild bang on the closed shutter of my shop. I slightly lift it up from inside, to find two men who happen to be my regular customers, waiting flustered.
"Two bottles, usual ones!"
"No sir ji, not today. I'll get caught!"
"Come on, it's just the two of us!"
"But..." I give up my protest when I see one of them removing two notes of one thousand rupees.
I don't understand why can't I sell alcohol on this day openly. I mean, why even declare it a 'dry day', when people anyway buy it? Apprehensively, I hand over their drinks to them, damning Gandhi, whom I don't like as my business has to suffer for a day because of him!
But, as my eyes fall on his photo on our crisp currency, with an avaricious smile, I kiss it and decide, I love you, Gandhi...
© Story by Manas Madrecha