Unbroken Prayer

". . . This frail old man of seventy-eight, who may be a politician among saints, but is no less a saint among politicians." Thus the Manchester Guardian last week described Mohandas Gandhi. The description was perfect.

Peace promises which the political saint had exacted from Indian leaders through his fast (TIME, Jan. 26) had brought at least temporary calm. There were noisy demonstrations in New Delhi--but they were for peace. Moslems moved unmolested into some areas from which rioting had driven them. On the third day after his fast, though weak, the Mahatma disdained to be carried to his daily prayer meeting; he walked, unaided, on his spindly legs. His audience of about 1,000 strained to hear as he prayed for Hindu-Moslem unity. A booming thud interrupted him. A hundred yards away, on the garden wall, a bomb had exploded.

It would take more than a bomb to break Gandhi's personal peace. Said he to his audience: "Don't bother about it. Listen to me." Then he resumed his prayer.

Outside the wall, a young Hindu was seized. He had placed the crude bomb, then had stood well back waiting for the explosion. It did not come. As he moved closer to relight the fuse, the bomb went off. He was the only casualty.

Why had he done it? He did not say. Police suspected a widespread plot. But next day, when Gandhi again appeared at his prayer meeting, he begged the police to be merciful with the youth: "We should not harbor hatred." One of his listeners, deeply moved, shouted that Gandhi should proclaim himself a reincarnation of God. The Mahatma smiled. But his worshiper persisted. Then Gandhi's weak voice rose almost to an angry shrill: "Sit down and be quiet."

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