My father, 97 years old, is a retired IAS officer, still sharp in mind and active in disposition. He has been witness to a number of major world events — the Second World War, the freedom struggle and independence from colonial rule, assassinations, liberalisation and so on.
He is a great storyteller, and though I have heard his anecdotes umpteen times, they never fail to enthral me. His narration of the events of January 30, 1948, always gives me goosebumps.
One recent evening, I caught him in a reminiscent mood, and he needed no prodding to recount the events of that fateful day.
At that time, he was 23, working in the Secretariat in Trivandrum, now Thiruvananthapuram. His father, the Director of Panchayats, also had his office in the Secretariat building.
January 30, 1948, began like any other day, and the two of them visited my aunt’s house after office. On switching on the radio there, they were shocked to hear the news of Gandhiji’s assassination.
“The entire city poured out onto the streets. People were shocked and were seen openly crying in genuine grief. There were banners and flags everywhere, but no noise, just silence and tears,” my father says.
To Kanniyakumari
On the 12th day, Gandhiji’s ashes arrived in Trivandrum en route to Kanniyakumari to be immersed in the ocean. Veteran leaders received the urn with the ashes at the airport. It was to be taken in a jeep to Kanniyakumari. A Minister invited my father to travel with him in the jeep carrying the urn.
All along the way to Kanniyakumari, people lined up on the roads offered flowers and wreaths to be placed on the urn.
In Kanniyakumari, the urn was taken by boat some distance into the sea to be immersed. My father was on the boat and all of them took a dip in the sea as a mark of respect to Gandhiji. One of his senior friends did tharpanam (offering for the departed soul) in Gandhiji’s memory on the banks of the ocean — he was after all, the “Father of the Nation”.
vijayagovraj@gmail.com
