Saving Bapu Privately – a DreamWorks production

It was the 30^th of January, 1948. The sniper was crouched up between two huge branches of the pupil tree that stood outside the garden, where Gandhi held his daily prayers. He had found his target – Nathuram and was following him closely through the scope (with Mk3 telescopic sight) of his World War II Rifle. He adjusted and repositioned every second, to make sure he had Godse, exactly at the point of intersection of the perpendicular lines.

The sniper also kept an eye on Apte, whom he was sure, would give a signal when it was time to make the move. Eventually none came. Finished with his round of interviews, Gandhi was returning for the evening prayer, and was surrounded by a human corridor. Mr.Sniper was dead sure that before Nathuram made his way through the crowd his bullet would make its way through Godse’s skull. Unexpectedly, Nathuram started moving. “This was not a part of the plan” thought the sniper, and fearing the worst he loaded the 10 round detachable box magazine into his No.4 Mk1(T), aimed and positioned his index finger on the trigger. Godse entered the corridor and mingled with the crowd. “Damn that bastard!” cried the sniper, as his fears realized and he lost his target. He could feel his heart beats on his stock, and the blood gushing to his brain on his cheek rest.

An era of seconds later, he found his prey again, but to his astonishment Godse was already in front of Gandhi, bowing down with his hands clasped. Before the sinper could steady his rifle, Nathuram brutally pushed Manu, who came forward to say something, with his left hand and exposed the black Beretta pistol that lay in his right. For a second the sniper wondered, “Will my bullet travel the distance fast enough to save the Mahatma. Mine had a good three hundred metres to travel, while his had to travel only the barrel length, that too a Baretta”. The trigger was pulled………Teeen wooon teeen wooon teeen wooon teeen wooon, went the siren alarm-tone of my mobile, freaking me out of bed. It always gives me the feeling of being chased by the police, and invariably I wake up at its first ring. I snoozed it and saw the time. It was 7:00 a.m. What was wrong with that? It was 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday.

Why the f*** dudn’t I disable my wake-up alarm? Telling myself that I had to buy a mobile with “Only on weekdays” alarm, I went back to bed (I know that sounded stupid, but I guess one can enjoy the luxury of being stupid, when he is sleepy). Why is that dreams never have an ending? Determined to dream-direct the climax, I closed my eyes. The images were loading and the stage was being setup, and Kraaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnn went my door bell.

It was the maid. My room-mate was not in town. I had to open the door. Punching the bed, and kicking the floor, I got out of bed. With closed eyes (to avoid the sunlight), I walked to the door, feeling my way like a blind man, unlatched it, and sleep-walked back to bed. The maid, industriously, took the broom, came right into my room, switched on the tube light, opened the windows, switched off the fan and started sweeping. Arrrrgggggghhhhh…..Like a drug addict seeking his needle, like a “-10 spherical” looking for his glasses, I searched the floor for the blanket that I had kicked off, and covered myself up to the head. Did I scare the maid? What would she have thought? How did I look doing it the frantic way? – I didn’t have time for these. Come on, Gandhi’s life was at stake.

Result of the manoeuvre: Realization of the fact that my blanket and my eye lids were translucent :(. Gandhiiiiii…..if you wanna save yourself pray to thy lord to give me sleep. The bullet is out of my rifle. (identity revealed huh! ;o ). The video is paused. I am not even able to do the 360 degree Matrix kinda camera work to see the state of Godse’s trigger… Sweating under my blanket (why the hell din’t she switch on the fan and turn off the lights after finishing), I tried to mentally shut my eyes. Gandhi’s three monkeys flashed in my mind. Concentrating hard I was about to get the video to stream…..and dhud dhud dhud sirk sirk sirk sirk dhud dhud dhud clug clug clug clug sirk sirk sirk…. Well what can I say? She washed away every trace of sleep in me, and with it went the dream like the bubbly foam into the gutter. Hey Ram ;-(

PS: Prelude: I was determined to finish “Freedom at Midnight” by midnight yesterday. This book seems to have a wireless link to the circuits at the power-station. Every time I sit down and open the book, the circuit there opens up too, and pop goes the power. The same sequence of events happened last night too. I was not going to accept defeat and resign to bed this time. So I lit up two candles and placed them on the window sill behind, on either sides of my chair and started reading. I was hardly through 20 pages and one source of light burnt down. Now I had to position the book in such acute angle, so that I could avoid the shadow of my head and at the same time get maximum light onto the pages. How far can a flight with a failed propeller, limited fuel and poor visibility fly? I had miles to go before I sleep, but I managed to cover only two more, and zzzzzzzzzzz I crashed.