Teen Gandhi

I inadvertently started Gandhi's autobiography recently and now I’m sucked in. I can’t put it down. It reads like a S.E. Hinton novel. Things begin innocently enough; at age seven he's a self-proclaimed mediocre student. I can picture it now:

Teacher: "Mohandas, you've been turning in some very mediocre work lately.
Gandhi: "Sorry about that, Mrs. B. It's just that I have a lot on my mind what with our nation’s suffering and-"
Teacher: "Siddown, Mohandas."
Gandhi: "Okay."

What Gandhi lacks in book learnin', he makes up for in moral fiber. "I do not remember having ever told a lie..." he says, "either to my teachers or to my schoolmates." Very impressive but no surprise there, he is Gandhi after all. Then he says, "I used to be very shy and avoided all company. My books... were my sole companions. I literally ran back (and forth to school) because I could not bear to talk to anybody." Gandhi the Nerd. Gandhi the Socially Inept. Not what I would have expected from one of our more charismatic iconic figures, but okay, I'll bite. He adds, "I was even afraid lest anyone poke fun at me." Gandhi the Insecure? Sounds like nearly everyone I knew growing up. Except for the saying of "lest" part, but other than that.

A few pages later, our story takes a turn; at the tender age of thirteen, Gandhi’s parents marry him off. Let’s go there, shall we:

Gandhi: "Are you kidding me? No way do I want to get married. Nuh, uh."
Mom: "You're getting married and that's the end of the discussion."
Gandhi: "Well, you can't make me."
Dad: "Actually, we can and we did. You're getting married to Kasturbai by the end of seventh grade."
Gandhi: "To who?"
Mom: "'To whom' and it's none of your business. You'll meet her at the wedding."
Gandhi: "But Mah-ahommm!!!"
Dad: "No buts, son. Now go finish your homework."

At this point most thirteen-year-olds would have said, "I hate your guys’ guts!" but, again, we're talking about Gandhi. So he and his brother were married and took to its obvious benefits immediately, even though he never forgave his parents for, “such a preposterously early marriage.”

Though any other hormonal teenage boy might have been distracted from his schoolwork by his wife's, um, cooking, Gandhi pressed on, working hard at his studies. He's even quoted as saying that one of his greatest regrets was not having worked harder on his handwriting. “I tried later to improve mine, but it was too late. I could never repair the neglect of my youth. Let every young man and woman be warned by my example, and understand that good handwriting is a necessary part of education.” You know you've lived a fulfilling life if your greatest regret is bad handwriting.

Then, while still a teen, Gandhi fell under the depraved influence of a bad egg who coerced him to eat meat—which was against his religion—; be unfaithful to his wife—also a no-no--; and steal from the servants to buy cigarettes. The chapter even ends in a suicide pact. He writes, “It was unbearable that we should be unable to do anything without the elder’s permission. At last, in sheer disgust, we decided to commit suicide!” What pathos, what angst. Vampires got nuthin’ on Gandhi.

So, the next time you wish your son would make more of an effort or stop hanging out with the wrong crowd; remember, he could have the makings of a spectacularly charismatic and learned leader. That head of hair, the one that so desperately needs washing, could be housing a truly enlightened mind. And that smelly room with the overflowing hamper and DVDs on the floor could be the sanctuary of a future pioneer of global action and compassion. Be patient. Your home could be nurturing an inspiration. This town could be lousy with Gandhis.