The Hope of Shridula (23 page)

"Ridiculous!" Brahmin Rama sputtered. "Impossible!"

But Rajeev wasn't finished. "What of his push to open Hindu temples to all castes? Even Untouchables. I ask you, Brahmin Rama, would a Hindu of Hindus allow such a desecration of their holiest places?"

At first, the crowd fell silent and stared aghast at Rajeev. But then their eyes turned to the agitated Brahmin.

"The Mahatma and I think as one," Brahmin Rama said as forcefully as he could. "No Hindus must be allowed to convert to other religions. Not one man and not one woman! India is for Indians, and Indians are Hindu!"

March 1947

M
ahatma Gandhi is a Hindu," Shridula stated. "An Indian and a Hindu."

"I know that," Glory Anna said. "But he did live in England. That is where he heard the teachings of Jesus. He liked them so much that he took them as his own."

"You are making that up. The Mahatma is a Hindu."

"I have heard Rajeev say it again and again. Gandhiji especially liked the part of Jesus' teachings called the Sermon on the Mount."

Shridula looked doubtful. "What does that part say?"

"Well, I do not know," Glory Anna admitted. "Not exactly. But we could find out." She took her grandmother's Bible that now lay on the lowest shelf of the cupboard and flipped through page after page after page. "Here," she said. "This is the part about Jesus."

Glory Anna turned the page and read: "The Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Chapter one." Slowly she started to read:
The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham. Abraham begat Isaac; and Isaac begat Jacob;
and Jacob begat Judas and his brethren; And Judas begat Phares and Zara of Thamar—"

"This does not make any sense!" Shridula interrupted. "Why would the Mahatma take any of these words for his own? I do not believe he did!"

For hours on end, Saji Stephen sat on his veranda and watched the road, all the while making a great pretense of tending to his business affairs. Morning after morning, as the sun climbed in the sky, he settled himself on the fine Persian carpet under the fragrant new blossoms on the jasmine vines and loudly called for his leather-bound accounting book. For the remainder of the day, he sat alone with the book open in his lap. He watched the road until he saw someone approach, at which time he focused his eyes on the book and made a great show of tracing his finger down the page while mumbling to himself.

"Fine morning," a hunched-backed man called out as he reverently touched his forehead. Saji Stephen bent lower and squinted at his accounting book, completely ignoring the man.

Two young Brahmins passed by, deep in conversation. They never turned their eyes to the landlord at all. Although Saji Stephen's face hardened and his jaw clenched, he pretended not to notice the slight.

All day long, travelers passed along the road, their possessions tied to their backs or balanced on their heads or piled into bullock carts. Especially merchants, who were inevitably laden down with wares destined for the market in the next village. People hurried by on their way to tend to business, and so did people who hoped to look as though they had business to which they needed to attend. Some called out greeting to Saji Stephen. A few respectfully touched their foreheads. More than a few paid him no mind at all. Saji Stephen did not acknowledge any of them.

"Father, I—" Nihal Amos began as he stepped out onto the veranda.

But Saji Stephen cut him off. "Go away! Can you not see how busy I am?"

For three days, from midmorning until the sunset, Saji Stephen passed his time in that way. On the fourth day, as evening approached and a cool breeze stirred the air, Saji Stephen finally spied Brahmin Rama's skinny frame heading up the road. Quickly he bent low over his book of accounts and wrinkled his brow in a great show of concentration.

Brahmin Rama drew near, but Saji Stephen huddled down lower still. When the Brahmin approached close enough to be heard, he called out, "You sent your son to embarrass me, Landlord!"

Saji Stephen looked up in feigned surprise. He replaced the absorbed look on his face with one of pained offense and said, "Please, Rama, I know nothing of such an embarrassment."

Brahmin Rama quickened his steps. "The Great Soul Gandhi and I are of one mind."

"Is that so?" Saji Stephen's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "You agree with the Mahatma that all castes should be equal? My, my, that does astonish me."

The Brahmin, his lips pursed tight and his eyes defiant, stepped up beside the landlord's veranda.

"You agree with Mohandas Gandhi that Hindu temples should be open to all, including Untouchables? How enlightening that must be to your Brahmin brothers." A smile teased at the edges of Saji Stephen's mouth. "Do come up and sit beside me. I would be most interested in hearing about your drastic change of mind."

Brahmin Rama didn't waste time pretending to protest. Instead, he stepped up, arranged his
mundu
around him, and sat down. Carefully he removed his spectacles and swiped at the perspiration-spotted lenses with the corner of his fine linen garment. "The Mahatma and I are of one mind on
most
things," he said. "On those that remain in question, Mr. Gandhi simply requires further instruction."

"In order for him to become the 'Hindu of Hindus in every way' you claim him to be?" Saji Stephen's small smile broke into an unabashed grin.

The Brahmin replaced his spectacles on his nose and wrapped the stems over his ears. "No," he said. "To overcome the contagion he received from his time with the British."

"
And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him: And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying . . .
Yes, yes!" Glory Anna said. "Here is the Sermon on the Mount, in chapter five of the book of Matthew!"

Shridula's eyes narrowed.

"
Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.

Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.

Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you."

"The Mahatma really teaches all that?" Shridula asked.

"I suppose so," Glory Anna replied. "That is what Rajeev says."

Saji Stephen stared straight into the Brahmin's face. "Right now Dr. Ambedkar is busy stirring up the Untouchables, urging them to refuse to be Hindus. But of course this is not news to you."

"Certainly not," Rama replied. "But why should the words of so insignificant a fool make any difference to you?"

"Because that insignificant fool commands great respect among the hoards of Untouchables."

Brahmin Rama shrugged dismissively. "Hindus follow the Vedas. No other religion that—"

"There! That is precisely Dr. Ambedkar's point, is it not?" Saji Stephen interrupted. "He says Hinduism is not rightly a religion at all, but only a political scheme crafted by the upper castes to make it possible for them to rule India."

"Foolishness!"

"If so, then it is foolishness that grows more popular by the day."

Brahmin Rama sniffed. "Where is the problem in that, anyway? The upper castes
should
rule India!"

"
Blessed are the poor in spirit,"
Glory Anna read. "Well, that is not this family. We are not poor in anything."

"We are poor in everything," Shridula said. "Maybe the kingdom of heaven is for Untouchables."

"
Blessed are they that mourn,"
Glory Anna read. "Mourn. Hmmm. . . . Is mourning like complaining? Everyone here complains."

Shridula leaned over so that she could get a good look at the Bible on Glory Anna's lap. "
Blessed are the meek,"
she read. "What does 'meek' mean?"

"I do not know," Glory Anna said. "But whatever it is, the Vargheses must be it because they did inherit the earth."

"
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after . . . after . . .
"

"After righteousness," Glory Anna said. "It means goodness. Blessed are those who really want to be good."

Shridula said nothing, but Glory Anna knew exactly what she was thinking and it made her extremely uncomfortable.

"
Blessed are the merciful,"
Glory Anna quickly read. "
Blessed are the pure in heart."

Shridula bit her tongue to keep it quiet.

"
Blessed are the peacemakers.
Ha!" Glory Anna snickered. "This family is the troublemakers!"

"
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake,"
Shridula read.

"Well, this family is persecuted," Glory Anna said. "And reviled, too, and all manner of evil is said against them." "For righteousness' sake?" Shridula asked. "Because of their goodness?"

Glory Anna didn't answer.

"I am a friend of Mahatma Gandhi," Brahmin Rama said to Saji Stephen. "I believe you also to be his friend—in your own way, of course. True, Gandhiji has areas of blindness. But it is in those very areas that he most desperately needs men like me . . . and you. He is, after all, but a Vaisya. If he is to guide India, it is for us, the
Brahmins
and
Kshatriyas,
to guide him."

"Not to guide him," Saji Stephen said. "It is for us to rule over him. And over all of India!"