Daughter Of Midnight - The Child Bride of Gandhi. Arun Gandhi
for self-discipline and self-purification, even adding special vows of her own invention. Her daily rituals of purification had become the regimen for her whole household. Putliba wouldn’t eat without first saying her prayers, and wouldn’t pray without first having her bath, and wouldn’t bathe without first visiting the latrine. Ritual safeguards against spiritual pollution were not new to Kasturbai — her parents, too, were religious.
Not long after she settled into her new home, Kasturbai noticed a change in the quiet, likeable boy she had married. In an attempt to play the typical role of a dominant Indian husband, Mohandas was becoming very possessive and jealous.
It all started when he bought several little pamphlets at the bazaar, the sort of thing written in those days to educate young husbands about their conjugal rights and responsibilities. Aware that he had much to learn, Mohandas read the booklets from cover to cover. What impressed him was not the practical advice given, but the commendable exhortation that a husband must always be faithful to his wife. He found that idea compelling. And not just because it appealed to what he later described as his “innate passion for truth”. Mohandas was in the throes of first love. He was “passionately fond” of Kasturbai; he could think of nothing else all day long. To be false to her was unthinkable.
To him it was obvious that a wife, too, should pledge faithfulness; however his adolescent strategy for ensuring mutual fidelity was both unsophisticated and unenlightened. He concluded that it was the duty of the faithful husband to exert his authority over his wife and to make sure that she kept her pledge.
One night Mohandas announced to Kasturbai that from now on he wanted to be kept fully informed about where she went and when, and about whom she met and why. In fact, he declared, she should not go out of the house without his consent.
However, the notion of having to request permission from Mohandas for her every move sounded like oppression to Kastur. With her many household duties, she seldom had time to gallivant. She only accompanied other Gandhi women to call on friends or neighbours, or go with Putliba to the nearby temple for prayers. Nandkunwarba and Ganga never went in search of their husbands to tell them they were going out, so why should she? Besides, it was embarrassing and humiliating.
My grandmother’s spirit was always proud and free. Those who remembered her have testified that Ba would never allow anyone to dictate to her — not even her husband. Yet her manner was naturally accommodating; never challenging. And her instincts were essentially conservative. She had no inborn desire to flout tradition. At this point in her young life, she was not ready to rebel openly against accepted practices or established authority (this would change in the years to come).
On the night of their first confrontation, Kasturbai assured Mohandas she would always be a faithful wife. For her, any other course was unthinkable. She raised no objections to the restrictions he proposed. But she made no promise to observe them.
The next day, without consulting Mohandas, Kasturbai arranged to go with Putliba to the temple for prayers. How could Mohandas object? She was following the example of his own mother, the most virtuous of women. She went to the temple again the following day and the next. The day after that Kasturbai went with her sisters-in-law to call on friends. By actions, not words, she was making it clear to Mohandas how much she objected to his high-handedness.
Mohandas reacted vigorously and attempted to impose even more restraints. They had their first quarrel.
“Are you suggesting that I should obey you and not your mother?” Kasturbai asked.
The new husband had no answer.
“When she or other elders in the house ask me to go out with them, am I to tell them I cannot stir out without my husband’s permission?”
Finally, Mohandas acknowledged that Kasturbai was not the girl to brook such restraints. The orders were rescinded and normal life resumed.
The young husband was learning a hard truth about his wife: she obeyed as she chose. Unless he could convince her of the correctness of his decisions, she was prepared quietly to ignore them and go her own way (that would not change in the years to come).
Mohandas still remained troubled and preoccupied. He was neglecting his studies.
Word came from Porbandar that Kasturbai’s family wanted her to come for an extended visit. It is customary for Indian parents to arrange frequent and lengthy separation of young married couples. During the months she spent in Porbandar, Kasturbai happily settled back into the comfortable, undemanding routine of life in the Kapadia household. She seemed to be discovering anew the everyday enjoyments of calling on relatives and friends, chatting and singing: she loved to sing. In visits to the Gandhi house, where the newlyweds Motilal and Harkunwar lived, she exchanged confidences with another recent bride.
In such conversations, Kasturbai undoubtedly shared some of her confused feelings about her husband and her marriage: how she thought about Mohandas all day long — it made the cooking and the chores go faster. How eager she was, they both were, to be alone together in their room at night. How playful he could be: mischievous in fact, but agreeably so. He had his strange little ways. He always kept a small lamp lit in their room, something she wasn’t used to. But she never objected; she truly wanted to please him in all things.
Why, then, in the first few months of her marriage, had she defied her husband and gone against his wishes? Not just once, but repeatedly. She tried to explain to her friend and to herself.
It was because Mohandas had changed. He had become another person: disagreeable and unreasonable. But was that any reason for defying him — something no good wife should ever do? How could she make him understand that she had her own life to live, her own duties to perform? She wanted to be a good wife, but she also had to be true to herself.
Kastur loved to listen to the stories women told. Tales of the great heroines of ancient India. One of the stories Kastur often asked for was the true story of the brave queen Rani Laxmibai of Jhansi. In 1857, only a few years before Kastur herself was born, Rani had died on the battlefield. She was leading Indian troops against their colonial overlords. The British called this brief rebellion the Sepoy Mutiny.
Kastur’s mother was pleased to tell her daughter the story of a woman’s selfless patriotism, hoping, perhaps, that her daughter would grow up to emulate the courage of Rani Laxmibai. Vrajkunwerba had no illusions that Kastur would ever lead troops into battle, of course, but there were many different ways a woman could be courageous.
In Kasturbai’s absence Mohandas had studied hard, making up for time missed from school during the weeks of endless wedding celebrations. He wrestled with geography, and lost marks for his bad handwriting, but his marks in English and geometry were much improved. He was passed to a higher grade. This was better than the other recent Gandhi bridegrooms had done. Marriage marked the end of schooling for my grandfather’s older brother Karsandas, and his cousin Motilal in Porbandar.
All the while Mohandas was devoting himself to his studies, his inmost thoughts had been centred on his wife. Desperately lonely for Kasturbai, fervently yearning for her return, he had devised an experiment for them to carry out, a new project to bring them closer together: he was going to teach his illiterate wife to read and write. His ambition, as explained in his autobiography, was “to make my wife an ideal wife…. [T]o make her live a pure life, learn what I learned, and identify her life and thought with mine.”
He revealed the plan to Kasturbai as soon as she returned to Rajkot, keeping her awake late into the night outlining his course of instruction starting with the alphabet, and expecting her enthusiastic acceptance of the project. Instead, she seemed wary, unresponsive.
In truth, Kasturbai was surprised and shocked. How could her husband be so unpredictable, so inconsistent? First, he had wanted her to become the most subservient wife. Now he was suggesting she should become the most emancipated and do something totally unconventional, something that went against all tradition. He wanted her to learn to read and write! Her misgivings were almost instinctual. But with her usual protective reticence, she said nothing.
The experiment got underway. Each night in their room, the young couple would spread out