A priceless exchange

I remember, it was the year 1945, when Mahatma Gandhi visited Tagore’s Santiniketan, for a short time. That time the whole nation was burning with the fire of freedom movement.

Though Tagore passed away in 1941, still Gandhi with his great respect for Tagore, visited Santiniketan many times, to be drenched in peace. His visit in 1945 was for a short duration, because he was actively involved with the freedom movement of India. 
At the time I was six years old, and was unable to understand the gravity of the freedom movement and did not know the situation our country was passing through. But I felt the whole environment charged with some positive energy and momentum. 
I remember my mind being fascinated by the one thing that captured my imagination the most - small little hand held national flags, affixed on thin popsicle straws that held deliciously sweet and colorful liquid treats. And they were being sold everywhere. I was much attracted to it, and had to have one. So after getting some insignificant sum of coins from my mother, I rushed out to get one for myself.

On the way to the popsicle stand, my attention got diverted to a huge crowd that was proceeding towards an unknown destination. I was too curious not to know what that attraction was about and started following them while keeping my precious coins secure within my tight grasp. As I flowed with that stream of people, I finally reached a large opening - one I was quite familiar with as it was the prestigious grounds, called Gour Prangan, (named by Tagore in honor of my late father Gour Gopal Ghosh, who was very dear to him and also a famous football player of the Mohan Bagan team of Bengal). 

 
I stood surrounded by a huge gathering and found myself peering through the crowd at a frail little man, wearing a loin cloth, holding a donation box in his outstretched hand. And people where people pushing through the throng to put money into it with much enthusiasm and reverence. I was quite inspired by this collective energy and holding my coins tight in my hand, pushed  through the crowd like a small rat, and emerged at the forefront to find myself face to face with him.  I happily dropped my few precious coins in Gandhiji’s donation box. It must've been a moment of some amusement to Gandhiji  to receive perhaps the smallest donation of the day from the smallest donor - a tiny five year old girl. Turning towards me,  he bent a little, and gave me a smile that remains vividly etched in my  memory even today . That smile had magic and divinity beneath it, which still inspires me in my ripe old age.  A priceless gift for a few annas (pennies).Today when I think back at how significant that moment was, for me, for India and for the world, I'm amazed at how little we understand of what matters most till we look back.