Ah, you are scattered everywhere, everywhere I roam. You are the beauty and gladness. You are the moment of my being. You are the months where I can assure the sea is blue. The waves are indented under the chalky sky, under the columnar moonless skies: you appear, you rise, you are the lyrical journey of my soul, with ardor and sensibility, with the carvings of my pedantic offerings. I paint you deliciously, unsuspected with splendor, a moral reflection of woman, crimson, cheerful.
— Chuck Akot, moral reflection
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My Experiments With Truth
An autobiography by Mahatma Gandhi
If you are from India, you probably know a lot about him already. As a child, our course books taught us all the great humanitarian public work he did during India's independence movement. Although, once I grew older and joined social media, a huge number of people DESPISED him because of multiple reasons. This book piqued my interest because this was the best way to know about his life.
I have read more than half of his story and I really enjoy his memoirs of Public service. They are moving, frightening, realistic and brings out the creative, humanitarian and down to earth person that Mahatma Gandhi was. However, I read his family life with nothing but contempt and rage. I try to argue that he belonged to a different time woth different values but it still doesn't calm the anger boiling in me!
One such story that stands out is this:
To give a little context: His father was on his deathbed for quite some time. Every night he tended to him until his father fell asleep. One particular night, his uncle was in town who wanted to step in and take care of his brother. So, Gandhi was excused from his duties for the night. He went into his room and as a married teenager felt some desires and had sex or in his words "gave into lust". On that very night, he was woken up and told that his father passed away. A little later they found out that that night's activity resulted in his wife being pregnant.
Here is what bugs me, he was obviously heartbroken and in pain. At the same time, he felt guilty for leaving his father alone in his final moments. But to call your unborn child an embarrassment? To say that your child's early death was a result of him being conceived out of embarrassment?
It boils my blood. All I want to do is scream that the little child in there is to be born and he his not to be shamed no matter the night he was conceived!!
To project such embarrassment onto a little child and to tell your pregnant wife that she was a walking proof of his shame is absolutely horrible! Imagine the pain that child would have faced if he had survived..
In all, I respect and appreciate his work as a Humanitarian but I cannot bear the way he treated his family and I will not accept any excuses for that!