My name is Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
and I'm known all over the world as Mahatma Gandhi.
One afternoon, I was at home weaving my own clothes,
when a young mother and her eight-year-old son came and asked me,
"Papu ..."
"Papu" was a loving name that Indians called me,
like "Papa" or "Daddy."
She said,
"Papu, please ask my son to quit eating sugar.
This boy eats so much sugar,
and if you ask it, I'm sure he'll obey."
So, I said to them, "Kindly, come back in a month."
The next month, they came back to my house,
and I talked with the boy.
When I talk with a child, I like to lower myself
to be on the same sight level as the child.
I told him,
"Oh, my son, I think you really should stop eating white sugar.
This kind of sugar is so bad for our bodies."
At this, the mother turned to me and said,
"Papu, I didn't really understand.
Why did you wait for a month?
Why didn't you say this a month ago?"
I told her,
"It's because, until a month ago, I also ate sugar."
In 1920, I took a vow to only wear handmade clothes,
and I called on the population of India to do the same.
At that time, cotton was exported from India to England
for a very low price,
and was returned to our country as finished woven products
that were sold at very high prices.
Our own Indian consumers had difficulty acquiring these products,
and Indian workers - artisans, spinners and weavers -
began to lose their jobs.
I led this campaign, and it had a very positive result.
But then, there started to be a problem in England
because the English textile workers began making known their concerns known.
So, in a visit I made to Great Britain,
I had the opportunity to ask for a meeting with the textile workers
from a county called Lancashire.
I explained our situation and asked them,
"You're saying that you want to prosper by taking crumbs of bread from the mouths
of Indian workers and their children?"
To my grateful surprise and happiness,
they completely understood our problem
and ended their claims.
This was one of the happiest days of my life.
On that same trip, when we arrived in London,
two very curious things happened to me.
The first happened one afternoon when we were walking
on a big avenue in downtown London, and I came across something
that I had never seen in my life,
and that, for the English, in a certain way, was also a novelty:
a shopping center.
I stopped in front of a window, and when a member of the delegation
realized that I had lagged behind, he turned to me and asked,
"Mister Gandhi, would you like to buy something?"
I said,
"No, I'm only looking at all the things I don't need."
That same night, we were invited for a reception at Buckingham Palace,
and the instructions I received were that I could not see King George V
dressed the way I normally do.
I would have to wear a tuxedo.
I tried to argue, but they wouldn't budge.
So, what did I do?
I found a tuxedo, wrapped it up, and sent the package to the palace,
since they were more worried about my clothes than about me.
Almost all of us make the same big mistake:
we think that there's an ethical way
to conduct ourselves in public, and another ethical way to act in private.
We are used to accepting certain lower moral standards
so that things will function well in the business and political world.
It seems that this double standard of conduct is convenient.
It's stimulated by the idea that winning at whatever cost
and getting results are the only things that matter.
This double standard of conduct is present in all of society.
I ask your permission to cite two segments of our society
where this is a little more clear:
First, politicians.
Politicians ask us to evaluate them based on their political accomplishments
and never by their personal conduct.
Second, businesswomen and businessmen, who also don't want to be judged
by their personal conduct
but rather, by their pragmatic and financial results.
These women and men forget:
in addition to being business managers,
they're also people managers -
they're leaders.
When the double standard comes from leadership,
a nation or organization is permeated by it.
People who want quick success quickly learn the rules of the game,
and many of them abandon their values to experience success.
We must be the change that we want to see in the world.
One time, they asked me why, when people are fighting, they scream.
I started to think, and I came to a small conclusion.
When people fight, their hearts start moving apart,
and for one heart to hear another heart,
it needs to scream.
But, if people live harmoniously,
lovingly,
their hearts are so close
that even a whisper can be heard from one heart to another.
My faith gives me a glimpse of humanity living in peace.
But, for this to happen, each person needs to achieve inner peace
because there can be no external peace in the world without inner peace.
There is no path to peace; peace is the path.
It takes peace to smile,
and it takes peace to dream.
Peace without a voice isn't peace, it's fear.
I lived 78 years.
Before turning 75, I was imprisoned many times,
adding up to, more or less, seven years.
I was arrested for my non-violent resistance to unjust laws,
like, for example, the "salt law."
The English decreed a law
saying that only they could produce and market salt.
For us, salt was essential to preserve our food.
The English charged themselves one price and, for Indians, they added a tax.
And this tax, at the time,
was one of the world's most extravagant,
and it had a terrible impact on the poorest Indians.
You can't imagine the price to buy a kilogram of salt.
I led a 386-kilometer march to the ocean,
and was followed by many people.
That morning, the 6th of April, 1930,
we arrived at the sea's edge in a village called Dandi.
When the sun rose from the horizon,
there were 12 million people participating in this march.
I got down and picked up a lump of mud that contained a little salt.
and in the caring way that all things -
a lump of mud, the seas, the rivers, the forests,
the animals, and the human beings -
deserve to be treated, I said,
"We need this salt like we need the air and the water.
This salt comes from the Indian Ocean, so it belongs to India,
and from now on,
any Indian can and should produce and market salt."
This was one of the first acts of civil disobedience.
The next morning, in the ashram, I received a visit from a history teacher,
who asked me if I sincerely believed
that it was only through non-violence or civil disobedience
that I would be able to liberate India from England.
I answered him,
"Sir, you're a history teacher.
You tell the history;
I make the history."
My oldest son lived 40 kilometers from the closest city,
and, on the day he was to take his car for repair,
he invited my grandson along.
Arriving there, he told my grandson,
"Kindly drop me off at our lawyer's office,
take the car to the repair shop, and come to get me at 4:00 p.m."
My grandson left the car at the shop, and, as he had time, went to the movies.
He liked the film so much that he saw it two times in a row.
When he went to pick up my son, it was already 5:00 p.m.
After he arrived, he explained,
"Father, I was delayed; the shop owner only just now delivered the car to me."
Then, my son said,
"I already called the repair shop, and the car's been ready since 2:00 p.m.
My son, we're going to do the following: you're going to drive the car home,
and I'm going to walk these 40 kilometers home,
so that I can reflect on my walk
where it was I went wrong in your education."
In 1944, my wife and I were prisoners.
At times, my wife was free, and I was in prison.
One particular time, when she was free and I was imprisoned,
I received a letter from her that I am going to read to you:
"I thank you for having had the privilege of being your collaborator
and companion in life.
I thank you for the most perfect marriage in this world,
based on "brahmacharya," self-control.
I thank you for having considered me your equal in labor for all your life
on the behalf of India.
I thank you for not being one of those husbands who spend their time
on gambling, horse races,
women, and drinking,
and are tired of their wives and children,
in the way that a young man soon tires of his childhood toys.
What gratitude I feel that you aren't one of those husbands
who pass their time enriching themselves from the exploitation of others.
And how thankful I am
that you put God and our homeland above bribery
and have had the courage of your convictions,
and your complete and implicit faith in God.
I thank you for tolerating me and my youthful shortcomings
when I grumbled about the change you brought to our lifestyle -
from much to little,
Kasturba."
That late afternoon,
when I finished reading this letter, there deep in my cell,
I started to reflect.
To call women the fragile sex is an injustice and a slander
from us, men, towards women.
Because love cures, love unites,
love nourishes, love pulsates,
love educates, love encourages,
love moves, love brings birth,
love thrills, love relieves,
love motivates, love mobilizes,
and love makes life possible.
I want to invite you, my female friend, to be an example for future generations.
I want to invite you, my male friend, to leave your written mark
and your signature engraved in human hearts,
to the point of being remembered,
many generations from now,
as a sower of prosperity and inner peace.
I now take my leave from you, but I leave with a happy heart, in peace,
because I believe in your intentions.
And I hope that each of your words and each of your gestures
can continue touching the soul of everyone -
curing, uniting,
nourishing, educating,
encouraging, relieving, motivating,
mobilizing, and making life possible.
Namaste.
(Applause)
Thank you.