The 7:00 P.M. prayer hour found us back at the MAGANVADI ashram,
climbing to the roof where thirty SATYAGRAHIS were grouped in
a semicircle around Gandhi. He was squatting on a straw mat, an
ancient pocket watch propped up before him. The fading sun cast
a last gleam over the palms and banyans; the hum of night and the
crickets had started. The atmosphere was serenity itself; I was
enraptured.
A solemn chant led by Mr. Desai, with responses from the group; then
a GITA reading. The Mahatma motioned to me to give the concluding
prayer. Such divine unison of thought and aspiration! A memory
forever: the Wardha roof top meditation under the early stars.
Punctually at eight o'clock Gandhi ended his silence. The herculean
labors of his life require him to apportion his time minutely.
"Welcome, Swamiji!" The Mahatma's greeting this time was not via
paper. We had just descended from the roof to his writing room,
simply furnished with square mats (no chairs), a low desk with books,
papers, and a few ordinary pens (not fountain pens); a nondescript
clock ticked in a corner. An all-pervasive aura of peace and
devotion. Gandhi was bestowing one of his captivating, cavernous,
almost toothless smiles.
"Years ago," he explained, "I started my weekly observance
of a day of silence as a means for gaining time to look after my
correspondence. But now those twenty-four hours have become a vital
spiritual need.
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