UNFORGETTABLE THINGS
KHASA
SUBBA RAU
One
day as I was going with Rajaji to the beach he said, Suddenly, “You are restless. You are terribly upset over
something. What is it?”
I
answered. “Nothing. Nothing in
particular!”
He
said, “Shall I tell you what it is?”
“Two
bad proof mistakes have occurred in this week’s Swarajya. You discovered them after the whole printing was done.
You are unable to get the wrong lines out of your mind. So you arc unhappy.” I
was astonished at his accurate understanding of what had happened, but I said
nothing.
We
drove on in silence. After a little while he said. “There is no use regretting
what is done and past. Regret will not rectify an error already committed. Be
as careful as you can, and resolve to avoid mistakes in
future. But do not cry over spilt milk.”
“I
am giving you excellent advice,” Rajaji said. “It is
very easy to give advice to others. But it is not at all easy to act on the
same advice in one’s own case. To this day I have not been able to get over the
feeling of regret for something that happened years and years ago.
“Forty
years ago,” Rajaji continued, “my wife was very ill.
I nursed her with great care. She had become so weak that it was
difficult for her even to lie on a mattress. To ease her pain and make her more
comfortable, I took her in my lap. After sometime my legs got benumbed and I
gently moved her the bed. She was sensitive with the
augmented physical suffering of the acutely helpless. She said. ‘I am such a
burden. How long is it possible for you to hold me in your lap? There must be a
limit to the endurance of the greatest love.’ Ten Duties later she passed
away.”
Rajaji said, “My sorrow over
this breakdown, ten minutes early, is as vivid now as on the day she died forty
years ago. The greatest regrets of our life we carry with us for ever and there
are griefs that Time cannot heal.”
Rajaji is not superficially
demonstrative. But his capacity for affection is all-absorbing. His
preoccupation in the care of those for whom he cares is unremitting and
continuous. Except for rare moments of self-revelation, he loves to hide it in
reticence. His service to fellowmen is a silent dedication.
November 6, 1960.
–From Sidelights