It’s not about Gandhi and Khaadi. It’s about life…

To start with let me tell you that my Grandfather Late Shri Bajrang Lal Asopa was a Freedom Fighter, Congress Party worker and Sarpanch of a not so significant village near Bikaner called Napasar (I won’t flaunt it but this village has the largest number of voters in Rajasthan, around thirteen thousand). He passed away in 1979. Long before my parents got married. I have seen my grandfather only in photographs.

31 years later

I graduated from a highly reputed Engineering College in Delhi and was offered a job in some stupid IT Consultancy. Because I was sure that I will work on my own start up, a City Based Social Networking Website (which later on, failed very nicely), I decided not to join the company. To fund my start up, I had to make some big bucks which was not possible in the IT job. Surprisingly, an opportunity came to me and I started working on a Project with a small construction company in Bikaner. I was made the working partner on the Project.

India. Media. CWG. Ayodhya. Corruption. Life was literally hell in Bikaner. Amongst all this I went out to shop for a few computers for our office set up. I entered the market and gave orders for the computers and asked the owner of the company if we could pay him the next day. He replied, “Sir, its Gandhi Jayanti tomorrow”. I was silent. I was so involved in work that I just forgot about Gandhi Jayanti. What am I supposed to do? Celebrate, weave Khaadi, and preach non violence to Naxals, terrorists or youth of Kashmir. It’s just another holiday for all of us. I criticized Indians in my heart saying that everyday they need a reason for not working, some days it is the Ayodhya Result, some days it is Gandhi Jayanti.

I walked slowly towards my car thinking about hundreds of issues in my head. I felt all alone in the most crowded lane of this small city in Rajasthan. As I was walking, the sound of Prayers in the temple, the tring-tring of a bicycle rider, the beggar carrying a small malnourished child, the voice of the vegetable seller, the three people on the bike speeding away after hitting an old woman, the family of four sitting on one Bajaj Scooter who compromised with their lives seemed to disturb me. I just wanted to be alone. Just away from the entire hustle bustle going on around me. While I was walking on the pavement, I saw some beautiful Khadi Kurtas hanging outside a shop. I read the name of the shop. It was “Khadi Bhandhaar” established since 1959.

The shop had pictures of Mahatma Gandhi and Indira Gandhi at the entrance which seemed to be positioned in such a way as if they were talking to each other and discussing about the customers who were entering the shop.

Something made me stop there. I didn’t want to walk any more. Just wanted to enter the shop and talk to the old man sitting on the counter. The peace that was there in the small shop was incomparable to any air conditioned showroom. A different calmness was all over the place. Peace was all I could feel there.

The atmosphere was filled with a unique fragrance. Soaps, Attars, Perfumes, Incense Sticks, Candles, Herbal products were lying scattered in different shelves. But instead of being critical about the way they were kept, I just observed the minute work done by the weavers of Khaadi. Was I tired or was there something special about this shop? I just wanted to be there forever. I felt like I was home. This was the place I belonged to. I was born in Bikaner and brought up in some other place. I never felt that much connected to Bikaner the way I felt in those few minutes.

I started exploring the Khaadi products and started talking to the employee of Khaadi Board who was handling the shop since 1971. His name was Kishan Lal Gopal Aasdev, a “Vaidya” (an ayurveda specialist) by profession and an employee of this shop. I told him that I worked for a magazine called 21 fools (my new start up, post the debacle of my first start up) and would love to have his views on Gandhi, Khaadi and India.

He told me that a lot had changed since he joined work. He started with a salary at Rs. 145 per month and now he gets Rs. 7000. As he was an old fellow he started talking about his time and told me that during 1970’s only people who were congress followers, politicians or real Khaadi lovers had the courage to wear Khaadi as it was very thick and uncomfortable to wear. But these days due to introduction of new designs and technology, Khadi had become friendlier to skin. With new fashion trends setting in, Khaadi had also become a fashion wear.

On being asked why he still does this job when he can work from home as a “Vaidya”, he replied in a simple manner. He said, “Sir, I don’t do this for money. The more I work hard, the more those millions of weavers get a little less poor. Sale of these products assures us that those weavers will get a two day meal. I am not doing it for money but because I feel attached to Khaadi. It was a symbol of our Independence. And now it is a symbol of humanity, peace, self dependence and love.”

I was sitting on the plastic table and just listening to his words. It was not about KHAADI or GANDHI. It was a about a way of life. I understood what Gandhi felt when he started weaving Khaadi clothes.

Life was a bit more positive after those simple talks with Kishan lal ji. Life was not that complicated. It was beyond the project I was working on, beyond Ayodhya, beyond CWG, beyond 21 fools and beyond everything. We just needed to weave life properly the way Gandhi did.

I shook hands with the old man after our talks. He also gifted me a small Khaadi handkerchief as a memoir of the time I spent in his shop. I walked out of the shop and again looked back at the shop where it was written “Established in 1959.”

Something struck me. I wanted to ask him something. I entered the shop again and asked him “Kishan lal ji, have you heard of Napasar, a village near by?” 

He replied, “Yes, of course”. He asked “Why?”

I said, “No, nothing special, actually I am from Napasar.”

He said, “We have age old relations with the people of Napasar. Our woolen shawls were woven in the village long time back. And the Late Sarpanch of Napasar “Netaji” Bajrang Lalji Asopa used to visit our shop quite often.

I was blank. I stood still. This was the circle of life. I closed my eyes, thanked Gandhi and walked towards my car with tears in my eyes.

It doesn’t matter to me if Gandhi or Khaadi is relevant in today’s times but it surely helped me in getting close to my values, my roots, my culture and my grandfather. I felt as if my Grandfather (Netaji) just hugged me closely and spoke to me, “Son don’t get tired so soon, the journey has just begun. The Journey Within.”

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The article was written 2 years back for www.21fools.com