The Passing Away of Bapu in Urdu/Hindi
The Author and the text
Nayantara Sehgal(1927-) is one of the first female Indian writers in English to receive wide recognition. Her fiction deals with India’s response to the crisis brought about by political changes. She won the Sahitya Academy award in 1986 for her novel Rich like Us.
Nayantara Sehgal (1927-) un pehli Hindustani khawateen lekhikayon mein se ek hain jo English mein likhne wali hain aur jinhone bohot shohrat hasil ki. Unki afsaanvi likhai Bharat ke siyasi tabdeeliyon se paida hone wale buhran ke jawab ko darshata hai. Unhone 1986 mein apne novel Rich Like Us ke liye Sahitya Academy award jeeta.
The text, an extract from Nayantara Sehgal’s memoir Prison and Chocolate cake, recounts the incidents following the death of Gandhiji. It vividly describes not only the author’s personal sense of loss, but also the collective grief of the entire nation at the passing away of Mahatma Gandhi.
Yeh matn/moolapaath Nayantara Sehgal ki yaadon ki kitab Prison and Chocolate Cake se ek hissa hai, jo Gandhiji ki wafaat ke baad hone wale waqiyat ko bayan karta hai. Yeh na sirf lekhika ke zati nuqsan ke ehsas ko tafseel se darshata hai, balki Mahatma Gandhi ke guzarnay par pore logo ke gham ko bhi wazeh karta hai.
I was having tea at home on the evening of 30th January, 1948, when I was called to Birla house by an urgent telephone. Gandhiji had been shot on his way to a prayer meeting. I was numb with shock as I got into the car.
Main ghar par chai pee rahi thi sham ke waqt 30 January, 1948 ko, jab mujhe ek foran telephone call aaya Birla House se. Gandhiji ko ek duaye meeting par jaate waqt goli maar di gayi thi. Main jhatke se ma’roof ho gayi jab main car mein baithi.
At the Birla House, Gandhiji’s relatives and followers had gathered round his body. There was silence in the room as Gandhiji breathed his last. Words of Bapuji’s death had spread through Delhi like a flame fanned by wind. Sad groups of men and women had collected around Birla House. Out of every window one could see a brown blur of faces. They did not make a sound. There was an unnatural silence. It was as if time stood still for those few minutes.
Birla House pohanch kar, Gandhiji ke rishtedaar aur chele unke jism ke ird gird jama the. Kamre mein us waqt khamoshi thi jab Gandhiji ne apni aakhri saans li. Bapuji ki wafat ki khabar Dilli mein hawa ke jhonke ki tarah phail gayi thi. Udaas mard aur auratein Birla House ke ird gird jama ho gayi thi. Har khidki se ek bhura sa chehra dikhayi de raha tha. Unhone koi awaaz nahi ki. Ek ghair fitri khamoshi thi. Yeh aisa tha jaise waqt us chand mint ke liye ruk gaya ho.
The people were too stunned to speak in the beginning. Later they clamoured wildly, shouting and crying. They jostled one another in a stampede to break into the house. They calmed a little when it was announced that they would be allowed to see Gandhiji before the funeral.
Log shuru mein itne hairan thay ke wo kuch bol nahi sakte the. Baad mein unhone beinteha shor machaya, cheekh kar aur ro kar. Wo ghar mein ghusne ke liye ek doosre ko dhakka de rahe the. Thoda thehr gaye jab yeh elan kiya gaya ke unhe Gandhiji ko dafnane se pehle dekhne diya jayega.
When one is faced with the shock of a loved one’s death, one whimpers: “What will become of me now that he has left me?” This was surely the question uppermost in the mind of the mourning people. They looked like lost children. It was the question in many of our hearts as we sat, still shocked and unbelieving. We listened to the broadcast telling the people of India that their Bapu was no more.
Jab kisi apne ki wafat ka sadma hota hai, to insaan bilbilata hai: “Mere saath ab kya hoga jab wo mujhe chhod gaye?” Yeh zaroor hi wo sawal tha jo matam karne walon ke zehan mein tha. Wo khoye hue bachon ki tarah lag rahe the. Yeh humare dilon mein bhi sawal tha jab hum baith kar, abhi bhi sadme mein aur hairan, sun rahe the. Hum ne wo radio broadcast suna jo India ke logon ko bata raha tha ke unka Bapu ab nahi rahe.
Gandhiji’s funeral was to take place the day after his death. Hours in advance, people lined the route the funeral procession was to follow. Padmasi, Mrs Naidu’s daughter, spoke for us all when she said simply: we will walk. It is the last time we shall be walking with Bapu.
Gandhiji ka janaza unki wafat ke agle din hona tha. Hours pehle, log us raaste par saf banakar khade ho gaye jahan se janaza guzarne wala tha. Padmasi, Mrs. Naidu ki beti, hum sab ke liye keh gayi jab usne sirf itna kaha: hum chalenge. Ye aakhri dafa hoga jab hum Bapu ke saath chalenge.
It was an agonizing walk. Thousands silently watched the procession. Bapu lay on an open truck covered with flowers. Thousands of people wept, trying to touch Bapu’s feet. It was impossible to move in the thick crowd.
Ye ek takleef bhari walk thi. Hazaron logon ne khamoshi se juloos dekha. Bapu ek khuli truck par, phoolon se dhaka hua, lete the. Hazaron log ro rahe the, Bapu ke paon choone ki koshish karte hue. Ghane hujoom mein chalna namumkin tha.
As I moved forward slowly I understood I was not merely in the midst of grieving people. This was even more than the funeral procession of India’s beloved leader. I was among people for whom walking with Bapu had a special meaning. We had walked with Bapu over the rough and smooth of India’s recent history. We could not now accept the fact that the man who had led us over many difficult paths, was never going to walk with us again. Bapu’s slight figure had walked, staff in hand, over a large part of India. To walk is to make slow progress. It is to think with clarity and closely look at all that is around you, from small insects to the horizon in the distance. Moreover, to walk was often the only way open to the average Indian. It required no vehicle except his own body and cost him nothing but his energy. Gandhiji took this necessity, as he took much that was commonplace and transformed it into a joyful effort.
Jab mein aahista aahista aage barhi, mujhe samajh aya ke main sirf ghamgheen logon ke beech nahi thi. Ye aur bhi kuch tha, ye Bharat ke pyare leader ka janaza tha. Main un logon mein thi jinke liye Bapu ke saath chalne ka khaas ma’ani tha. Hum ne Bapu ke saath Bharat ki haal hi ki tareekh ki mushkil aur asaan raahon par chala tha. Hum ab is baat ko tasleem nahi kar sakte ke woh shakhs jo humein mushkil raahon par le gaya, ab hamesha ke liye humare saath nahi chalega. Bapu ka chhota sa jism, hath mein lathi pakde, Bharat ke bohot bade hisson par chala. Chalne ka matlab hai dheere dheere aage barhna. Yeh hai sochna, safai se aur idhar udhar ki cheezein, chhoti chinti se lekar door tak ke afaq ko dekhna. Chalna, aam Hindustani ke liye aksar sirf yahi rasta tha. Is mein kisi gaadi ki zarurat nahi thi, siwaye apni jism ke, aur iska sirf apni energy ka kharch tha. Gandhiji ne is zarurat ko, jaise ke unhone bohot saari aam cheezon ko, ek khushi ke saath koshish mein tabdeel kar diya.
Some days after the funeral, a special train took Gandhiji’s ashes to Allahabad. The compartment was decked with flowers. People on the train sang bhajans. People did not weep anymore for they could feel Gandhiji’s presence amid the flowers and the songs. At every station sorrowful crowds filled the platform. Amid song and prayer the train reached Allahabad. The ashes were immersed in the Ganges where a huge crowd had gathered at the bank. Afterwards we all went back to Delhi.
Janaze ke kuch din baad, ek khaas train ne Gandhiji ki raakh Allahabad le gayi. Train ka dibba phoolon se saja hua tha. Train mein log bhajan ga rahe the. Ab log nahi ro rahe the kyun ke wo Gandhiji ki mojoodgi ko phoolon aur gaane mein mehsoos kar rahe the. Har station par afsurdah hujoom platform ko bhar deta. Gaanon aur duaein ke beech train Allahabad pohanch gayi. Raakh ko Ganga mein ghol diya gaya jahan darya ke kinaray par ek bara hujoom ikatha tha. Iske baad hum sab Dilli wapas chale gaye.
Back in Delhi, I felt at sea. I had not directly walked with Gandhiji, gone to prison at his call or made any sacrifice for my country. My sisters and I, and other young people like me, had been merely onlookers. But still I felt at sea. I felt I had grown up within a magic circle. With Bapu’s passing away, I felt the magic circle had vanished, leaving me unprotected.
Dilli wapas aakar, main pareshan thi. Main ne seedha Gandhiji ke saath nahi chala, unki pukar par jail nahi gayi ya apne mulk ke liye koi qurbani nahi di. Main, meri behne aur mere jaise doosre jawan log sirf tamashai rahe. Magar phir bhi main pareshan thi. Mujhe mehsoos hua ke main ek jaadu khed se bara ho gayi thi. Bapu ke guzar jane par, mujhe laga ke jaadu khed khatam ho gaya tha, mujhe bayhifazat chhod kar.
With an effort I roused myself. I asked myself-had Bapu lived and died for nothing? How could I so easily lose courage when he was no longer there? My values were not so weak. Millions of people would have been ordinary folk but for Bapu. He brought them out of indifference and awakened them to one another’s suffering. What if now Bapu is gone? We were still there, young, strong and proud to bear his banner before us.
Apne aap ko jagaaya, maine apne aap se poocha — kya Bapu ne jee kar aur mar kar kuch nahi kiya? Main kaise itni aasani se hosla kho baithi jab wo wahan nahi rahe? Meri qeemat itni kamzor nahi thi. Hazaron log aam log hote magar Bapu ke bina. Unhone unhe laa parwahi se nikaala aur ek doosre ke dukhon se waqif karaya. Kya agar ab Bapu chale gaye? Hum phir bhi wahan the, jawan, mazboot aur unka jhanda apne samne le kar garv se chalne ko tayyar.
Bapu had passed away but his India would continue to live in his children.
Bapu guzar gaye magar unka Bharat unki aulad mein jeeta rahega.
