The Voice in the Garden

Yesterday morning, the MGIMS campus was very quiet. It was Badi Behenji’s death anniversary. We gathered around her samadhi in the garden—students and staff sat on the grass, and the elders took the chairs. The Sevagram winter air was sharp and clear.

The Friday prayers had just ended. Usually, we leave after the readings from the Gita, Quran, Bible, and Guru Granth Sahib. But yesterday, the silence felt different. We were waiting for something.

Then, an old tape recording began to play.

It was Badi Behenji’s voice. It sounded exactly as I remembered—soft, firm, and plain. There was no grand speech. It felt as if she were sitting right there with us, perhaps adjusting her glasses as she spoke about duty and how we should live.

She led us through the 15th and 16th verses of the Upanishads. These were the same verses once recited in Gandhi’s ashrams at Sabarmati and Sevagram:

तू विश्वपोषक है तथा तू ही निरीक्षक एक है।
तू कर रहा नियमन तथा तू ही प्रवर्तन कर रहा।
पालन सभी का हो रहा है तुझसे प्रजा की भाँति।
निज पोषणादिक रश्मियाँ तू खोलकर मुझको दिखा।
फिर से दिखा—एकत्र त्यों हो जोड़ करके तू उन्हें।
अब देखता हूँ रूप तेरा तेजयुक्त कल्याणतम;
वह जो परात्पर पुरुष है—मैं हूँ वही।

Her voice was steady. She had a gift for making difficult Sanskrit ideas feel simple and real in Hindi. She spoke about how brief life is and how the आत्मा eventually merges with the परमात्मा. She didn’t use fancy words; she just spoke from the heart about living a life of love and compassion.

I closed my eyes, feeling the winter sun on my face. She was so many things—a doctor, a leader, the builder of this place. But in that moment, the titles faded away. What remained was just the woman herself: deeply rooted in her spirit.

The tape hissed and stopped, but no one moved. We then walked to her samadhi to pay our homage, offering flowers and bowing in silence. The garden did not feel empty. Long after we went back to our work, her voice stayed with me. Calm and clear.