The Sabarmati ashram is directly across the road from the hotel but the road is a frenzy of morning rush and my India reflexes aren’t operating yet. Some sort of magnetic attraction pulls me safely through traffic and we enter the gate into the ashram’s calming grounds. Suddenly I am in awe, wondering how I got here, and why. I feel myself at the beginning of redefinition, my old ways of thinking noisy as the traffic beyond. I shed this old skin and laying her in the shade I ask Erico to take my photo.
There is much to see and learn at Sabarmati ashram but Hriday Kunz, the cottage shared by Gandhi and his wife Kasturba, is the heart. Here is witness to Gandhi’s legacy, “My life is my message”.
A loud humming noise disturbs the atmosphere when I return to the ashram for evening prayers. I see a crowd gathered before Hriday Kunj looking skyward. A drone hovers overhead belonging to a film crew documenting the centennial of the ashram. I go join the locals who have come to enjoy the gardens, the view of the Sabarmati River and the fresh air at the end of their long working days. I sit on the steep staircase facing the water and watch. Two young fathers sit next to me and hold up their babies for me to admire. As I smile into their fresh new faces their shining black eyes dilate with shock and I realize it is me being shown to them. A family of four approaches. The parents are traditional and offer their welcomes as they nudge their children toward me for photos together. Little brother is excited as we stand close for the click but big sister decides she doesn’t define herself at the side a foreign white woman. She declines a photo and I admire her independence.