Subramanian 1

Aishwarya Subramanian

Ms.Wray

English 10

17 March 2010

A grain of change

The air was hot; filled with the sweat of the merchants peddling their goods, a

puriwalla flipping his hot, crispy chappathis in the sweltering summer heat, a vegetable

vendor yelling that his brinjals were now on sale. The sun was a bright pink, a strong

dusk, that seemed to hide my quandary.

As the evening sale was going on, all the Brahmins were getting ready for

tomorrow’s pooja and the sudras hastily haggled to get the day’s excess food in order to

survive for another day of hard labor, I felt my heart racing. I hated to do this, “but I

must”, I told myself silently as I weaved through the throng of colorful people dressed in

reds and blues and clad with diamonds, and gold. I spotted an unwary vendor, cheerfully

crying “Ayie! Ayie! Mere bajji achee hoon!” I hid behind a nearby silk stall, wishing my

tall body to conform into the nook. As the walla continued to chant his little jingle, I

eased underneath his table protected from discovery only by a coarse cotton tablecloth. I

held my breath, praying no one would notice. Just as I prepared to slyly extend my hand

onto the table to swipe some fresh vegetables and some fruits to last the week, I noticed

the silhouette of an armed man crossing the crowd and heading near our table. The throng

quickly moved away with whispers of, “British bhaiya ayie hai!” I held my breath,

praying I hadn’t caught his attention. As the silhouette came more into focus, I could

make out a rifle and the outline of a Western outfit with shorts and a shirt.
 Subramanian 2

He stopped right in front of the vendor, and looked curiously around. The vendor

nervously asked, “Bhaiya, Kya bath hai? Kuch ghadbud hai?” The British man looked

at him and snapped, “I don’t want any of your bloody Hindustani, you idiot. Did you

perchance see a tall, roguish boy cross your store? He was up to no good today, that’s for

bloody sure.” The vendor was beside himself, folding his hands in reverence and

repeating, “Nai bhaiyaa! Me nai dheka hai.” With that, the British man walked away,

pivoting his head around looking for me. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had escaped again,

but as I felt my way out, I felt woozy as the sun’s heat reached my brain and my throat

cried for paani. I limped my way out, and before I could escape I felt the sharp tug of the

ground underneath, I fell down, and all was black.

I woke up to a cold, sharp rap on my shoulder. “The boy is finally awake, sir,” informed a

mild mannered voice hovering close above my face. It sounded like a young man, fresh

from school. Another voice came from further away; a voice that chilled me to the bone

as it quietly replied,” Well, then send him up here then…. don’t wait too long for him.

He’s a sly one.” I was in a dark, dank jail filled with the stench of cobwebs and old mold.

Anger surged through my body, but as I gained consciousness, my body felt as though it

would break with the slightest touch. My throat was dry as sandpaper, and my eyes were

bloodshot. The young boy dragged me to my feet, and looked apologetically at me as I

drew myself to my full height (a foot above the poor scoundrel) and muttered, “Chup

Kar, Badir.” An echo of chuckle could be heard from down the corridor, and as I turned I

saw a feeble old man weaving his dhoti and humming “Ragupati raagava raja raam,

patetha pavana sita ram.” Before the boy could drag me to my jailor, I stormed down to

him, and said, “Do you have a problem with me, thatha?” He merely smiled and
 Subramanian 3

proceeded to weave quietly. The cells surrounding him were empty, and as I looked into

his cell, I noticed that I had seen him before. Somewhere. Someplace. He looked up after

finishing his stitch, and as the young boy was running to grab me and drag me to the

British officer, he stretched his hand out through the bars and said, “My name, beta, is

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.” Suddenly, it made sense. This was the leader of our

country, modestly offering me his hand. I folded my hand in reverence and stammered

for words, “Thatha! Pitaji! I am very sorry for my insolence. Mere nam Yahmir Vaikhan

hai.” Meanwhile, the young boy, started toward me with handcuffs. Before, I was caught,

Gandhi said, “Yahmir, one thing you can do for this old man here is to be nonviolent and

perhaps (and here he dropped his voice to a whisper) join us for the Dandi march.”

Before I could reply, I was dragged off, and he yelled out, “Nonviolence! Remember!”

Nonviolence, I repeated to myself. I just met Mahatma Gandhi – the brightest star of us

Indians. He was helping us get rid of these wretched British stealing our rights and the

whole Indian population must fight back. However, not lifting a fist at those idiots made

my stomach clench. But, I decided that if the British were going to get at me for

surviving by stealing food, I would get at them by going on this Dandi March.

By this time, the boy brought me to a small office at the front of the jail – a place

I had visited too many times. “Come in…Ayie,” said the jailor. He shook his head when I

came, and opened up my records, and mocking said, “What’s the matter Yahmir? Your

first offense? No! This is your fifth bloody offense for stealing, Yahmir! What shall we

have you do this time… Clean saani?” I remembered the words of Gandhi and kept my

mouth shut as I watched his face turned purple with rage. Finally, he made me do just

that – clean saani. As I contemplated this dirty job, I also thought about another work…
 Subramanian 4

the whisper of a plan from Gandhi – the Dandi march. What was this? A revolt on the

British oppression at last? I had to remember to keep my mouth chup because otherwise

I’ll be in for it for sure – and the punishment wasn’t going to be just some saani cleaning

but even a hanging or worse a public lynching! It’s perfectly fine for me to steal once in a

while – it toughens those white imperialists… but boldly crossing them!? My heart

quaked with fear… I had to keep my mouth chup about this. Who knows how many are

involved – the man who asked me to get involved was the leader of the Indian

independence after all. Nevertheless, he asked me to join him…ME! Who knew where

this could lead?

Soon, after I was mulling my thoughts in my brain, the inspector led me to a

grand dwelling that seemed very rich – lined with painted pillars and the little peek I got

from the outside door revealed women in saris and an ornate pooja room inside. The

inspector chuckled at my repeated attempts to peek at the grandeur of the house and

commented, “Now look here, don’t even bloody think about getting in here. This here is

the home of a man who has plundered and counted his booty bit by bit to build his own

miniature empire in India. This is the home of the Subedar Major Singh, and his only

lakshya in this world was to build this beautiful home and cherish his beautiful beta; they

say she’s so beautiful that even the Viceroy wants to marry her. So don’t go getting any

bloody ideas in your brain alright? You have enough trouble as it is. The only job for you

here is to clean their gutter and get on with it, alright?” I grunted and began my dirty

work, sweating as I gathered my shovel and a barrel load of teak leaves and proceeded to

rake and cover the latrines.

 Subramanian 5

As I worked below the house, I noticed the twinkling of laughter from a window

loftily placed in the house. A glance revealed a beautiful girl dressed in silk with fair skin

and green eyes peering down at me with the most curious look. I laal and look down and

studiously attempt to ignore her growing stares at me. Finally, curiosity got the better of

me and I hoarsely hissed, “Mere liya kya dekha rahe ho? Kya apa kucha kahana hai?”

She frowned at me and whisked away, angered at (what presumably must have been) a

lowly boy talking up to her in such a way. I sighed; relieved to be free to do my saza, but

soon I began to shoot furtive glances at the window hoping the grina saundarya ankhom

would come back. For about a kal gandhe, she did not show up, and I wished that I had

not been so harsh with her. After all, the Viceroy wanted to marry her. However, as the

hour was about to close, I saw the ghost of those green eyes peeking behind the thickly

curtained screens pull back from the windows, and I knew she was still watching me. I

gathered my courage to beam a smile and then the beautiful face peeked out from the

curtains and returned the gesture. My heart leaped. But just as I was about shout,

“Tumare naam kya hai?” I found myself face to face with an old man dressed with a

jeweled kurta. Although he had the same green eyes as the girl, he did not have the same

smile as his daughter. The minute he caught her looking down at me, it was over. I was

dragged away, whisked back to the very place I had been released from.

It wasn’t as if I was unaware of the caste system and its implying qualities but it’s

just that when I saw her green eyes, I left all caution and approached life with a dose of

abandon. It’s as if I finally saw the light in my life. I had been an orphan for so long; I

had ceased to have any ties that I could call bhand. I shook that thought though, for I was

dreaming the wishes of the Viceroy himself. Yet, as I was trudged back to the prison, I
 Subramanian 6

cast one more look at the towering castle, the home of a dream that wanted to stretch the

boundaries of society till it fell.

The minute I was dragged back to the jail, I knew this was a more serious crime

than stealing. This time the familiar British inspector did not appear, instead a severe

Singh walked closer to me, throwing me into a darkly lit cubicle. The Singh came up to

me, carrying a big bamboo stick. He leaned dangerously close and darkly whispered,

“Don’t you know fool, that you’re nothing but a lowly Shudra ? Don’t you know you

were talking to the daughter of the Major? This kind of action has consequences,

consequences that are so unbearable, that most die instead of making it alive. That girl is

the coveted procession of the Major, understand, and don’t come trying to even glance at

the highest form of society?” He gave me a sharp rap with the stick and suddenly his tone

became lighter, “Well… I suppose I gave you a good enough lecture. Just don’t even

come near those kinds of people, bhai. We are different from them and we can never

truly be like them. Why did you even take a glance at her? I suppose I would have given

her a look too, but people like her were only meant to be coveted by the Viceroy and

those of equal status. Now run along and don’t make such a mess of the system. It’s best

to go with the flow sometimes.” I was relieved when I realized he sympathized with me

and was going to let me go.

They say that when a ghanti is rung, it can never be unrung. That applied to me

seeing my sundaratha and feeling the passion I have never felt before. Suddenly, I

wanted to break the bonds that kept me from finding out her name and kept me from

taking her hand in marriage. I was also sick of being in prison – a trap for the lowly

people in India. I did not have much power to change the anyaaya in this country but I
 Subramanian 7

knew someone that did. The Dandi march was to be my road to freedom – a day to snip

away the ties to the different tryants in the world – the British, the caste. That day was to

be a triumph of the poor; symbol that shows even the lowliest can be harijans.

March 12th, 1930. That was to be a day to be remembered. It started with a dusky

pink hue, leaving an orange tinge in the sky. The march to break the British will began.

This was a walk to make salt at the Dandi coast, thereby violating the British law and

creating a display of flamboyant civil disobedience. It started at Gandhi’s ashram, and I

hastily walked to his meager farm smelling of goat milk and freshly picked leaves.

Gandhi himself was at the center of the farm, a frail man with a gaze that even the most

determined could not hold. He nodded to the men around him, and soon a group of men

formed a packed line that started to walk at a brisk pace. Gandhi started to sing a

melodious chant of, “Ragupati raagava raja raam, patitha paavana sita raam.” We

continued to trudge through the dusty fields and as we crossed people, they joined us,

eager to break the will of the British man. As I got tired, I dreamt of those haunting green

eyes, and my heart tugged with the pain of one who had lost a beauty to worse to a fate

than death. Nevertheless, I moved with the rest of them – an exponentially growing

crowd. As time went on, our numbers grew. Occasionally, people wanted to rest or take a

break but we kept on marching – working till we could smell the salty vapors of the

frothy waters that awaited us. As we walked, we crossed by the castle of my dreams – the

one that housed my green-eyed beauty. She had gathered with her siblings at the window

to view the winding procession, and as she looked on – I made a loud shout through the

racket of the crowd and tried to get her attention. Whether she saw me or not, I continued
 Subramanian 8

to wave, stopping by the window and slowly getting left behind as the procession

continued to meander through the streets.

The minute she saw me, the color drained from her face, but she still managed a

small smile but soon after vanished from the window. I presumed she wanted nothing to

do with me now, and I hurried back to join the forerunners of this march. As we

continued, the pain of being ‘rejected’ became clear, I realized the green-eyed girl did not

want me – she had ignored my call. Nevertheless, I continued with my goal, figuring that

this rejection furthered my cause to stop the injustice in the world. Hours turned into days

but we continued to march, relentlessly walking. By this time, there were masses of

people walking – some protesting with signs, others quietly praying - but all wanted to

break the will of the British.

In the midst of this commotion, I caught a glimpse of some police approaching

from the back of our group. Soon with their horses, the police caught up to the front of

the march where Gandhi relentlessly marched on. They commanded Gandhi to stop, but

Gandhi continued to walk on, ignoring their commands. Finally, the head of the police

boomed out, “We aren’t disturbing your march, we will see to that later. But have you

perhaps seen a girl that belongs to Subedar Major? She has gone missing.” My heart did

an nrtya – was my green-eyed dream among us? Did she wish to cross the boundaries of

society for me – a lowly sudhra? As I looked around frantically among the swarm of

people, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. As I turned suddenly, I saw a girl bundled

thickly with shawls that covered her head and obscured a face that had earthy - green

eyes. I burst into a smile as she kept her finger on her mouth to indicate the danger of the

situation but she bashfully smiled.

 Subramanian 9

My heart felt as though someone had bijili gaalaya me. For the first time in my

lonely, and abandoned seventeen years of my life, someone cared. As I walked with her, I

made sure to remain silent, so as the police would pass us by without any notice. Minutes

went by as we marched, hid by the thickly bound crowd. After the police did a quick

sweep on the crowd, they left the crowd with a promise that next time they would come

with charem to stop this atrocity. But the rest of the march went peacefully, and without

disturbance as some people left at certain places and others joined at certain places. We

often stopped to rest at places where independence fighters were welcomed and Gandhiji

would give a provoking and eloquent speech to rouse up more marchers. I made sure not

to talk to the green-eyed girl for fear of exposure and kept her well hidden in the crowd.

As the weeks went by, we finally came upon our destination – Dandi.

On April 5th 1930, we reached the coast of Dandi. As we arrived we all looked to

Mahatma, as we took to calling him, for more guidance and advise on what to do. He

looked even frailer from the beginning of the march, as his weariness was etched on his

face. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and spoke the words everyone was waiting for.

“God be thanked for what may be termed the happy ending of the first stage in this, for

me at least, the final struggle of freedom. I cannot withhold my compliments from the

government for the policy of complete non-interference adopted by them throughout the

march.... I wish I could believe this non-interference was due to any real change of heart

or policy. The wanton disregard shown by them to popular feeling in the Legislative

Assembly and their high-handed action leave no room for doubt that the policy of

heartless exploitation of India is to be persisted in at any cost, and so the only

interpretation I can put upon this non-interference is that the British Government,
 Subramanian 10

powerful though it is, is sensitive to world opinion which will not tolerate repression of

extreme political agitation which civil disobedience undoubtedly is, so long as

disobedience remains civil and therefore necessarily non-violent .... It remains to be seen

whether the Government will tolerate as they have tolerated the march, the actual breach

of the salt laws by countless people from tomorrow.” With that, we concluded the day,

leaving the salty smell of the ocean to the dark night sprinkled with the jewels of stars.

The next morning all the marchers were aroused early in order to do what all of us

have been waiting for so long – to break the Salt Law and make the most important

commodity of common man – salt. As I awoke, I looked at the green-eyed girl who was

still safe. Although, I knew it was perfectly fine for me to talk to her, so far away were

we from her town at Sabarmati, I still hesitated – wondering what we had in common.

Her life was a cloud held with the soft and fluffy memories of childhood and ease,

whereas I had never known a single person to call sapeksa. I stole, worked, and

scrounged my way through life without a home or hearth. Why would she, the epitome of

wealth, come down and walk beside me? I had nothing to offer her – no money or even

land for I was a penniless lad. Nevertheless, I smiled to myself for despite all these

worries, something inconceivable was happening. I was about to break British law and

throw away social class for the rest of my life.

When we arrived at the soft and sandy beach again in the morning, Gandhi was

refreshed. He looked alive and excited as he calmly told us, “Make salt along the

seashore, wherever you are convenient and comfortable.” I made a bold move and took

the hand of my green-eyed friend and walked to the edge of the soft sand, where the

water met land. I grabbed a bit of the dirt and slowly boiled it in the seawater. As it
 Subramanian 11

heated, I felt my heart warming with it. I finally asked the girl a question I wanted to ask

a month ago – “Tumare naam kya hai?” She blushed and replied, “Chandini.” Along

with a simple grain of salt, the grains of independence arrived. India and me could soon

be free to be as Mahatma put it, “the change one wishes to see in the world.”
 Subramanian 12

Glossary

Puriwalla – baker

Chappathis – leavened bread

Brinjals – eggplant

Brahmins – the highest caste (rich and powerful) and the Hindu priest caste

Sudras – working class, low income, very poor

Pooja – prayer

“Ayie! Mere bajji achee hoon!” – “Come! My vegetables are fresh!”

Walla – vendor

“British bhaiya ayie hai!” – “The british man is coming!”

“Bhaiya, Kya bath hai? Kuch ghadbud hai?” – “Sir is there a problem?”

“Nai bhaiyaa! Me nai dheka hai.” – “No Sir! I haven’t seen him.”

“Chup kar, Badir.” – “Shut up, you idiot!”

Dhoti – Men’s garb worn around waist (substitute for pants)

“Ragupati raagava raja raam, patetha pavana sita ram.” – a chant to god

thatha – grandpa (old man respectfully)

beta – my son; young lad

pitaji – father; respectable man/sir

“Mere nam Yahmir Vaikan hai” – My name is Yahmir Vaikhan.

Ayie – come

Saani – gutter/latrine

Chup – keep quiet

Lakshya – goal
 Subramanian 13

Beta – daughter

“Mere liya kya dekha rahe ho? Kya apa kucha kahana hai?” –“ What are you looking

at? Do you have nothing better to do?”

saza – work/punishment

grina saundarya ankhom – green-eyed beauty

kal gandhe – half an hour

“Tumare naam kya hai?” – “What is your name?”

bhand – familial ties

bhai – brother

ghanti – bell

sundaratha – beauty

anyaaya – injustice

bijili galaaya – electrified

charem – sticks

sapeksa – family
 Subramanian 14

Attribution of Facts

A) "Caste System in India." A Parent's Guide to Internet Safety ::Indianchild.com.

Web. 18 Mar. 2010. <http://www.indianchild.com/caste_system_in_india.htm>.

• There are multiple caste levels in india – the sudra’s, brahmin’s and the harijans
(untouchables)
• Inter – caste marriage is nearly impossible and frowned upon
• Caste also usually makes up class level in society to – the higher the caste the
richer you are
• People who break the caste system were viewed as outcasts
• Gandhi called the untouchables – harijans (children’s of god)
• Interaction between castes was also frowned upon as the higher caste was more
‘worthy’ than the lower one
• Gandhi didn’t want any religious discrimination but he also didn’t want caste
distinction

B) Herman, Arthur. Gandhi & Churchill: the Epic Rivalry That Destroyed an
Empire and Forged Our Age. New York: Bantam, 2008. Print.

• Because he [Gandhi] boycotted the cloth industry supported by Britain as it

hurt the workers, he wove his own cloth
• He sang the phrase “Ragupati raagava raja raam, patita pavana sita ram”
• Spent a lot of jail time, as he continued to violate the law
• During the british reign, it was referred as the British Raj
• During the british reign, the officers during the Raj – one of the highest
positions is the Subedar Major.
• The british also employed Indians against Indians to attract civil disturbance
• Singhs were viewed as the most aggressive and militaristic of the Indians
• Mahatma said “Be the change you wish to see in the world”
• The viceroy’s of that time were very corrupt and as a result tried to
accumulate personal wealth and status with their power

C) "The March to Dandi." Emory University---English Department "Where

Courageous Inquiry Leads" Web. 18 Mar. 2010.
<http://www.english.emory.edu/Bahri/Dandi.html>.

• Dandi march was conceived by Gandhi against the oppressive british law
regarding the Salt tax
• The march started on March 12th 1930 and ended on April 6th 1930
• The march was not hindered by police or any other government force
• There were times when they took rests at places like amritsar
• Only when they landed and after they illegally sold the salt for a week did
Gandhi get arrested
 Subramanian 15

• When they landed on the beach, Gandhi told his followers – “begin to
make salt wherever, along the seashore, "was most convenient and
comfortable" to them”
• Before actually taking the salt – “Upon arriving at the seashore he spoke
to a reporter: God be thanked for what may be termed the happy ending of the
first stage in this, for me at least, the final struggle of freedom. I cannot
withhold my compliments from the government for the policy of complete non-
interference adopted by them throughout the march.... I wish I could believe
this non-interference was due to any real change of heart or policy. The
wanton disregard shown by them to popular feeling in the Legislative
Assembly and their high-handed action leave no room for doubt that the policy
of heartless exploitation of India is to be persisted in at any cost, and so the
only interpretation I can put upon this non-interference is that the British
Government, powerful though it is, is sensitive to world opinion which will not
tolerate repression of extreme political agitation which civil disobedience
undoubtedly is, so long as disobedience remains civil and therefore necessarily
non-violent .... It remains to be seen whether the Government will tolerate as
they have tolerated the march, the actual breach of the salt laws by countless
people from tomorrow. I expect extensive popular response to the resolution of
the Working Committee (of the Indian National Congress). (qtd in Jack 238-
239)"
• It was a form of civil disobedience
• It helped get people aware of the independence movement and sped things
up

D) Gandhi. Dir. Richard S. Attenborough. Perf. Ben Kingsley, Rohini Hattangadi.

Columbia Pictures, 1982. DVD.

• Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi (full name)

• Later christened to Mahatma (great soul) when he gained popularity
• Was a devout Hindu with great tolerance and interest in Muslim & Christian
beliefs – often sang of rama (Indian god)
• Great public speaker – rallied up people to act

E) WELCOME TO MAHATMA GANDHI ONE SPOT COMPLETE INFORMATION

WEBSITE. Web. 18 Mar. 2010. <http://www.mkgandhi.org/>.

• Mahatma Gandhi advocated for nonviolence and as a result created the civil
disobedience way to remove the british
• He believed that even if the British were violent, the people who followed him
would not be
• Gandhi owned a farm that he called an “ashram” because he took his most devout
supporters there and led an idyllic life that followed Gandhian policies
• This ashram was the start all of Gandhi’s revolts as he started from there
 Subramanian 16

Works Cited

"Caste System in India." A Parent's Guide to Internet Safety ::Indianchild.com. Web. 18

Mar. 2010. <http://www.indianchild.com/caste_system_in_india.htm>.

Gandhi. Dir. Richard S. Attenborough. Perf. Ben Kingsley, Rohini Hattangadi. Columbia

Pictures, 1982. DVD.

Herman, Arthur. Gandhi & Churchill: the Epic Rivalry That Destroyed an Empire and

Forged Our Age. New York: Bantam, 2008. Print.

"The March to Dandi." Emory University---English Department "Where Courageous

Inquiry Leads" Web. 18 Mar. 2010.

<http://www.english.emory.edu/Bahri/Dandi.html>.

WELCOME TO MAHATMA GANDHI ONE SPOT COMPLETE INFORMATION

WEBSITE. Web. 18 Mar. 2010. <http://www.mkgandhi.org/>.