The Great Trial of Mahatma Gandhi/Foreword
FOREWORD
A convict and a criminal in the eyes of the Law : Nevertheless the entire Court rose in an act of spontaneous homage when Mahatma Gandhi entered—a frail, serene, indomitable figure in a coarse and scanty loin cloth, accompanied by his devoted disciple and fellow-prisoner Shankerlal Banker.
“So you are seated near me to give me your support in case I break down,” he jested, with that happy laugh of his which seems to bold all the undimmed radiance of the world’s childhood in its depths. And looking round at the hosts of familiar faces of men and women who had travelled far to offer him a token of their love, be added. “This is like a family gathering and not a Law Court.”
A thrill of mingled fear, pride, hope and anguish ran through the crowded ball when the judge took his seat—an admirable judge deserving of our praise alike for his brave and resolute sense of duty, his flawless courtesy, his just perception of a unique occasion and his fine tribute to a unique personality.
The strange trial proceeded and as I listened to the immortal words that flowed with prophetic fervour from the lips of my beloved master, my thoughts sped across the centuries to a different land and a different age when a similar drama was enacted and another divine and gentle teacher was crucified, for spreading a kindred gospel with a kindred courage. I realised anew that the lowly Jesus of Nazareth cradled in a manner furnished the only true parallel in history to this sweet invincible apostle of Indian liberty who has loved humanity with surpassing compassion and to use his own beautiful phrase, “approached the poor with the mind of the poor”.
The most epic event of modern times ended quickly.
The pent up emotion of the people burst in a storm of sorrow as a long , slow procession moved towards him in a mournful pilgrimage of farewell, clinging to the hands that had toiled so incessantly, bowing over the feet that had overruled so continuously in the service of his country.
In the midst of this poignant scene of many voiced and myriad-hearted grief be stood untroubled in all his transcendent simplicity , the embodied symbol of the Indian Nation, its living sacrifice and sacrament in one.
They might take him to the utmost ends of the earth but his destination remains un changed, in the hearts of his people who are both the heirs and the stewards of his match less dreams and his matchless deeds.
Bombay,
20th March, 1922.
Sarojini Naidu.