Mahatma Gandhi

born 2 October 1869

Friends, the frail exterior, the weakness of limbs – why bemoan? Soul is the conqueror of the cosmos. When the forces of mind and matter strike against the power of Spirituality, they crumble like a house built on sand.

A skeleton of bones, a handful of clay, which the hard granite walls couldn’t deter; a magic touch of his hand turned pointed bayonets into sheaves of corn. Does the sun accept defeat from the dark night?

Soul: the tormented soul of the earth, of the starved and naked millions, of the wailing, helpless folk, of the widow’s mate caught up in the flames of war – might failed to smash that powerful soul as strong wind tails to smother a tender petal.

A warrior who stakes his all in the great struggle scorns to die on a comfortable couch. He gulps the cup of death when a call comes and exposes his proud chest to the death-dealing bullets.
You are a votary of non-violence, a champion of the caravan of love. Your blood gave tint to the soil: Like oil, to be poured into more and more lamps – illumining and showing the path as the caravan moves on.

Darshan