The people I saw in India-those in the villages as well as those in high office-have both pride and lively sense of decency and citizenship. They also have a passion for independence. This beautiful child born in squalor and poverty, uneducated in both grammar and manners-had given me a glimpse of a warm soul of India.
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I had left New Delhi for the Himalayas. I was going as far as Bareilly by train and then by car to Ranikhet – an old British army hill station located on 6000-foot ridge opposite a 120-mile stretch of snow capped Himalayas. The train was slow; and it stopped at all the way stations. At every stop, I swung open the door of my compartment, and walked the platform.
The platforms were the people – Sikhs, Moslems, Hindus; soldiers, merchants, priests, porters, beggers, hawkers. Almost everyone was barefoot and dressed in a loose white garments.I would ask at least three people before I could find one who spoke English. We would talk world affairs and every major topic, the news of the day produced. In this way, I was trying to get a feel of the pulse of the nation, checking openion against official attitudes and reports.