The story of my experiments with truth...................M. K. Gandhi.
MY FATHER'S DEATH AND MY DOUBLE SHAME The time of which I am now speaking is my sixteenth year. My father, as we have seen, was bed-ridden, suffering from a fistula. My mother, an old servant of the house, and I were his principal attendants. I had the duties of a nurse, which mainly consisted in dressing the wound. giving my father his medicine, and compounding drugs whenever they had to be made up at home, Every night I massaged his legs and retired only when he asked me to do so or after he had fallen asleep. I loved to do this service. I do not remember ever having neglected it. All the time at my disposal, after the performance of the daily duties, was divided between school and attending on my father. I would only go out for an evening walk either when he permitted me or when he was feeling well. This was also the time when my wife was expecting a baby,- a circumstance which, as I can see today, meant a double shame for me. For one thing I did not restrain myself, as I s...