Mahatma Gandhi’s philosophy of satyagraha, or the insistence on truth and passive resistance, marked the beginning of his pursuit for equality and acceptance. My great great grandfather walked the two lands I hold dear, India and South Africa, paving the way for independence in each, shifting the course of history and setting ideals that would be emulated by many.
South Africa a hundred years ago was a starkly different country engulfed by the dark shadows of colonialism. Many learnt about Gandhi, the slight, bald and bespectacled man clad in little else than a loin cloth who began his journey of passive resistance in South Africa, which paved the way for India’s independence. I learnt about Bapuji (what Gandhi is fondly called) the man who instilled the value of satyagraha in his children and grandchildren.
His legacy was this power of satyagraha. Gandhi’s willingness to risk his freedom through civil disobedience without violence was the core of this phenomenon. Converting the opposing force or resisting with love was novel. The allure of the movement is that once you are charmed by the stories of passive resistance, satyagraha becomes firmly entrenched in you.
Perhaps the one legacy that has impacted the Gandhi family the most has been his printing press. After 10 years of a relentless crusade, Gandhi realized that the twin tasks of mobilizing public opinion and influencing official decisions required a newspaper.
As a great great grandchild returning to the Phoenix settlement in Durban in South Africa, it is often quite incredible to imagine that Gandhi, the commercial lawyer, had the foresight to understand the power of the media by starting a newspaper, Indian Opinion. This is perhaps why so many members of my family, and I, often seek solace in words to articulate our thoughts. The allure is in the history of Indian Opinion, where words became the cornerstone for change and acceptance.
As a family, we are often so disillusioned by the times, the violence and the conflict that seems to have engulfed the world. Disillusionment is soothed, however, by gentle reminders.
Phoenix transformed into a place for community living, a hundred acres of land with a school, a clinic and an arena for activists to meet in the true tradition of Gandhi’s philosophy. Family reunions are often spent retracing these moments with afternoons at Phoenix settlement in the company of my great aunt Ela Gandhi who takes us on nostalgic adventures.
We sit captivated by tales of our great great grandfather who began as a timid young boy, became a lawyer and transformed into a movement. We are awe-struck by the accounts of unwavering and untainted passive resistance, we listen with bated breath at the steadfast ideals he passed on from generation to generation, beginning with his four sons who were instilled with strong work ethics, a moral compass and ideals.
The narrative of satyagraha echoes in South Africa’s own stories of struggle. Born a few years before the end of the apartheid in South Africa, I grew up listening to stories of resistance, the underlying message of peace and passivity often serving as the moral. In tales that could compete with Aessop’s fables, I regaled in South Africa’s history as told by family and friends. Growing up, there was a lot I didn’t fully understand. I didn’t understand human rights, I didn’t understand equality or freedom, because I couldn’t fathom not having them or anyone else being denied them. Herein lies the magic of my family and the legacy that follows us. My bedtime stories were mesmerizing tales of people I knew, these formidable men and dignified women who had become the personification of satyagraha. They had guaranteed me my human rights, my equality, my freedom. I was surrounded by these people who had fought vehemently for what they believed in and told me their enthralling stories while I sat wide-eyed, listening intently, scared I might miss a word. These stories reincarnated Gandhi’s legacy in a timeline of differing contexts, satyagraha was imbibed into the fight for democracy.
Satyagraha has undoubtedly become a global movement but it is a legacy deep-rooted in my family. History lessons for 45 minutes a day, reading begrudgingly from a textbook or listening to my teachers, had little impact in comparison to the firsthand accounts I received, the anecdotes on Gandhi and his quest for equality.
Bapuji’s legacy has stretched far beyond the notion of satyagraha, it is entrenched in the freedoms I hold dear today, it is deeply embedded in the history of South Africa, and is a guiding force for anything I write. For me, his legacy is the ability to create a fundamental shift in the conscience of the masses through the written word.