Ye delight biography of mahatma gandhi
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Chapter 44: With Mahatma Gandhi in Wardha
“Welcome to Wardha!” Mahadev Desai, secretary to Mahatma Gandhi, greeted Miss Bletch, Mr. Wright, and myself with these cordial words and the gift of wreaths of khaddar (homespun cotton). Our little group had just dismounted at the Wardha station on an early morning in August, glad to leave the dust and heat of the train. Consigning our luggage to a bullock cart, we entered an open motor car with Mr. Desai and his companions, Babasaheb Deshmukh and Dr. Pingale. A short drive over the muddy country roads brought us to Maganvadi, the ashram of India’s political saint.
Mr. Desai led us at once to the writing room where, cross-legged, sat Mahatma Gandhi. Pen in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other, on his face a vast, winning, warm-hearted smile!
“Welcome!” he scribbled in Hindi; it was a Monday, his weekly day of silence.
Though this was our first meeting, we beamed on each other affectionately. In 1925 Mahatma Gandhi had honored
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Reading Gandhi Reading
Amit Chaudhuri reviews the new critical edition of Gandhi’s autobiography.
An Autobiography or The Story of My Experiments with Truth by M. K. Gandhi and Tridip Suhrud. Yale University Press, 2018. 816 pages.
It’s generally foolhardy to write about Gandhi.
— Akeel Bilgrami
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SOMETIMES IT SEEMS THAT Gandhi, Nehru, Bose, and Ambedkar are India’s greatest novelists. In using the word “novelist,” I’m referring to a figure who gives our world back to us, a world whose significance we then spend years trying to grasp and measure. I mean someone who has an impact in both serious and popular domains. In that sense, the novelist is partly a figure of the imagination, produced by a mix of canonical judgment and contingent forces. The novelist is also, today, by definition global, and supremely exportable.
Just as other cultures have thrilled to artists of such disparate gifts as Dostoyevsky and Melville and Haruki Murakami, the educated Indian mid
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Mahatma Gandhi: inom Meet Gandhi
by John Haynes Holmes
Community Pulpit, Series 1931-1932, Sermon No. 2
October 11, 1931
TEXTS:
(1) “It was a true report that inom heard in mine own land of thy acts and of thy wisdom Howbeit . . . the half was not told me.”—I Kings 10:6-7
(2) “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace . . . for mine eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared before the face of all people.”—Luke 2:29-31
These are the texts which I have chosen to introduce a sermon which is not really a sermon at all. What I have to säga to you this morning is only a anställda narrative—a little story out of my own life. I have met Gandhi—have clasped his hand, have looked into his eyes, have listened to his voice. inom have sat in a great public audience, and heard him speak; inom have sat alone at his feet and talked with him about many things. All this fryst vatten of no importance, except to myself. But inom have talked to you so often about the Mah