“Why do you ask me that? Why do you even have such a doubt? For me, there is only one path. That is the royal road—the very path shown by Gandhiji. There’s nothing left for us to think about. He has already thought of everything for us. Our job is not to think, but only to follow,” she declared, with great courage, without the slightest hesitation or shyness.

“Well then, let’s leave it to my own efforts,” I said, slowly leaning back on the bed. That devoted wife followed me.

For some months, without a moment’s rest, neglecting even my court cases, I wandered about like a man possessed. In villages and towns, at gatherings and meetings, I began to speak to the people about our country—its former glory, its present misery, and the administrative systems that had brought about this decline. I strove to awaken the people, to open their eyes. Day by day, my campaigning grew more intense. Old and young alike, in droves, flocked to these meetings. They began to listen with great enthusiasm, and their eager attention spurred us on even more. Not only did I neglect my household duties and my court work, but I even began to feel as though I was neglecting my own—

One day, I was giving a speech at a meeting in a hurry, when I began to feel a headache and feverish. By the time I returned home, Saraswati was not there. She had locked the door, assuming I wouldn’t return until ten at night, and had even taken the key with her. At a loss for what to do, I went to a hotel, had some coffee, and then spent time at a nearby friend’s house until nine o’clock. Then, I slowly made my way back to my lodgings. When I arrived, the lock was still firmly in place. I didn’t have the patience to go anywhere else, so I simply sat there.

After about half an hour, Saraswati came bustling in. She was startled to see me sitting on the steps, and rushed over to me, placing both her hands on my shoulders and peering into my face.

“Oh dear, what’s this? How long have you been sitting here? Why are you like this?” she asked, touching my cheek and forehead. “Oh no, you seem to have a fever!”

“All right, all right! First, open the door,” I said.

“Oh, my foolishness!” she exclaimed, hurriedly unlocking the door. After lighting the lamp, she came back to the porch, took me by the hand, and led me inside. She made me lie down on the bed.

“The moment you lie down, I’ll bring you some coffee,” she said, and dashed inside.

I didn’t even have the energy to protest, so I lay there in silence. True to her word, in five minutes she returned with a steaming cup of hot coffee and handed it to me. She sat beside me, her hand resting on me, gazing at my