already taken a window seat behind the driver. I squished myself between the two
ladies in the middle.
The Sabarmati Ashram is eight kilometers away from campus. The twenty-
minute drive felt like an hour due to the silence. Ananya tried to make
conversation with her parents. They pretended not to hear her as they kept their
heads out of the windows. My mother took out a packet of Nice biscuits and
started eating them without offering them to anyone. She took one biscuit and put
it in my mouth, to assert maternal rights on me. Of course, I couldn’t refuse.
‘Why is everyone so silent,’ Ananya said to me as we went to the ticket counter at
the ashram.
‘My mother made a silly comment at the convocation,’ I said, hoping Ananya
won’t seek details.
‘What did she say?’ Ananya asked as she fished for the required amount of
money for six tickets.
‘It’s not important. But your parents left after that.’
‘What exactly did she say?’ Ananya persisted.
‘Nothing, something about South Indian women being loose or something. No
big deal.’
‘What?’ Ananya looked at me, shocked.
‘I didn’t say it. She did. Silly comment, ignore it.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Ananya said.
‘Nothing. Let’s get everyone talking again,’ I said as we walked to the main
entrance.
We came inside the ashram. Gandhi lived here from 1915 to 1930. The famous
Salt March started form this ashram. Ananya appointed a guide, for no other