“Seven months with Gandhiji

Sri Krishnadas in his “Seven months with Gandhiji “describes a visit of on Englishman and a Bombay photographer.“The breakfast over, Mahatmaji was going to write it when Miss Anasuaya Ben entered with an English gentleman from the city. This gentleman was private tutor to the children of Mr. Ambalal Sarabhai, Cotton mill owner of Ahmedabad, and brother of Miss Anasuaya Ben. After a short talk with him, Mahatmaji deputed me to show him round the ashram. The gentleman was so nice, simple and quiet that I easily felt drawn towards him. He also was pleased with me and asked what I was. “I am one of mahatmaji’s humble attendants”, was my reply. He then brought out his Kodak from his pocket, and took snapshots of different parts of the ashram. Returning he approached Mahatmaji who said, “If you ask for my permission, I can’t give it, because I have definitely made up my mind not to give a sitting. But I will not prevent you from taking a snapshot of me if you so desire provided you do it without attracting my notice or interfering with my work. Mahatmaji then resumed his writing, and the gentleman took his snapshot.A certain photographer of Bombay was present there at the time who having heard all that Mahatmaji was saying did not leave the ashram as he had intended but stayed for a few days taking photos of Mahatmaji in his various postures. Finding that the gentleman was so persistent in his efforts, Mahatmaji one day told him with a laugh, “I tell you, you can’t take an exact likeness of me. In fact nobody has so far succeeded in reproducing my figure. My form is never constant. It undergoes various transformations in the course of the day”. The meaning of his was not clear to me at the time. But then having lived with Mahatmaji uninterruptedly a long time I have come to observe that his appearance does not indeed continue the same at all times. Sometimes he has appeared to me like a young man of twenty five pursuing his work with infinite and indomitable energy. At other times again his look has been that of an octogenarian, a shrivelled figure bent with the weight of years. What is at the bottom of all these fluctuation I cannot definitely say. But guess that the particles of his body may have become so pure and so shorn of grossness as to lend themselves to ready change in response to the changes of feeling within. It is as though his body has become a perfect mirror reflecting the feelings of his heart.