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Show secretary summoned me, for it was possible, even then, that I could not se Mr. Gandhi. On the verandah of the workshop, some distance from Gandhi' house, I sat awaiting the signal from Mr. Desai. In the workshop I coul hear the hum of a sewing-machine, a ing odors made it evident tha cooking was goin n the floor there were baskets of food and th cggs we had brought from Wardha were being treated, as Mr. Gandhi, a orthodox Hindu, would not eat an egg unless it had been rendered sterile A great brown man, clothed only in a breecht spinning upo the workshop verandah, another Indian prone upon a string-bed in the yar to the spinner Th boo wa in Hindustani an the ma upo th wheel. The volume was of a culinary nature, and, when I arrive and too my seat upon the porch, the reader was on the chapter embracing the making of cucumber soup. I listened all through this ch'\plu,as wellas throug another on the subject of buffalo milk, before of Gandhi's house and beckoned me o appro At Ll toward the house, photograph 67, past M: Gandhi's su th Nationa Congress Th hous wa one-storey thatched-roofed sur inded by a low rail and picket fence with a sort of turnstile entrance. As enterrcd the gate the secretary came forward and requested that T remai with the Mahatma only a few minutes and confine my conversation entirel 10 the craft of papermaking; Mr. Gandhi was extremely ill and very weak and could not under any condition discuss national or international politica Digital image © 2005 MarriottLibrary Universit of Utah, All rihts reserved |
