"happy birthday, dear Gandhi..."

Tuesday was Gandhi's birthday. It was also my first official Good For My Soul Day, which is short for its complete title, "Good For My Soul, Tummy, Self-Awareness, and Adventurous Spirit Day." When I asked myself, what would be good for your soul today, Hannah Jo? I quickly answered myself, beautiful books. So I made my way to Earthcare books, a social justice bookstore tucked away behind a car lot/restaurant called the Drive Inn. Earthcare has books on sustainable farming and agriculture, feminism and women's issues, religion, trees and birds of India, war and peace, and poetry... just to name a few. I had to laugh at myself, because by the end of my perusing time, I was wandering around with arms weighed down in typical Powells style. This is the point where I stand helpless for twenty minutes, distraught at the knowledge that these books, quickly becoming new friends, can't all be bought on my budget. I say goodbye to them, feeling like I'm abandoning them to the cold while taking the chosen ones home for the night to a soft bed, a bowl of soup, and a warm bath. Maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but every time, I struggle to narrow it down. As if the books won't still be there next time I come to the store and drag them around with me.

I did finally manage to choose. I bought a book called Nature and the Environment, by an intriguing Indian man (whose name slips my memory,) but who turned down the status of highly-honored guru, declaring himself simply a man, wanting to both learn and teach. I also bought a few small, simply bound poetry anthologies. The poems are written by boys and girls who work sweeping the trains and selling bottled water at the station... but who are more than station children. They're learning that they are writers and dreamers, and most importantly, that they have something intrinsically valuable to say. These children are taught poetry by an NGO working here in Kolkata and elsewhere in India.

I then proceeded to be annoyed at Gandhi's birth. Okay, it wasn't so bad as that, but I did for one brief moment find myself angry at this small, bespectacled man in swaddling clothes. How can you get frustrated with Gandhi, you rightfully ask. Well, I made my way to the US embassy to see about a visa extension (a trip which I'd been procrastinating, of course.) Only to be laughed at by the man at the front door, because, as every one knows (including myself) it's a national holiday. When this happens, there is a brief moment when you selfishly wish that Gandhi wouldn't have been born... or at least not on this particular day. Shaking my head at the shallowness of my own thoughts, I quickly realized how ridiculous I was being, and returned to celebrating a beautiful man. It was humbling for me to be in India on this day, in the place that formed him and for which he fought valiantly, armed only with self-sacrifice and love. India was deeply changed because of him, is still in the process of changing. There were no big celebrations, or speeches, or memorial meetings. It was actually a quieter-than-normal day in Kolkata. Many businesses were closed, and people were at home. I found this a fitting way to honor him. I bought myself a coke from a street vendor, and watching the street from a shady spot of sidewalk, I raised my glass bottle, and sang "... happy birthday to you!"