Alone with Gandhiji and the Patels, Abha hesitated to interrupt. But she knew Gandhiji's attachment to punctuality. Finally, therefore she picked up the Mahatma's nickel-plated watch and showed it to him. "I must tear myself away," Gandhiji remarked, and so saying he rose, went to the adjoining bathroom and then started toward the prayer ground in the large park to the left of the house. Abha, the young wife of Kanu Gandhi, grandson of the Mahatma's cousin along with Manu, the granddaughter of another cousin, accompanied him. He leaned his forearms on their shoulders. "My walking sticks," he called them.

During the daily two-minute promenade through the long, red stone colonnade that led to the prayer ground, Gandhiji relaxed and joked. Now, he mentioned the carrot juice Abha had given him that morning.

"So you are serving me cattle fare," he said and laughed.

"Ba used to call it horse fare," Abha replied. Ba was Gandhiji's deceased wife.

"Isn't it grand of me." Gandhiji bantered, "to relish what no one else wants?"

"Bapu (father)," said Abha, "your watch must be feeling very neglected. You would not look at it today."

"Why should I, since you are my timekeepers?" Gandhiji retorted.

"But you don't look at the timekeepers." Manu noted. Gandhiji laughed again.
Isn't it grand of me." Gandhiji bantered, "to relish what no one else wants?"

By this time he was walking on the grass near the prayer ground. A congregation of about five hundred had assembled for the regular evening devotions. "I am late by ten minutes," Gandhiji mused aloud. "I detest being late. I should have been here at the stroke of five."

He quickly cleared the five low steps up to the level of the prayer ground. It was only a few yards now to the wooden platform on which he sat during services. Most of the people rose; many edged forward; some helped to clear a lane for him; those who were nearest bowed low to his feet. Gandhiji removed his arms from the shoulders of Abha and Manu and touched his palms together in the traditional Hindu greeting.

Just then a man elbowed his way out of the congregation into the lane. He looked as if he wished to prostrate himself in the customary obeisance of the devout. But since they were late, Manu tried to stop him and caught hold of his hand. He pushed her away so that she fell and planting himself about two feet in front of Gandhiji, he fired three shots from a small automatic pistol.

As the first bullet struck, Gandhiji's foot, which was in motion, descended to the ground. However, he remained standing. The second bullet struck; blood began to stain Gandhiji's white clothes. His face ashen pale, his hands, which had been held up in greeting by touching both palms, descended slowly; and one arm, remained momentarily on Abha's neck. Gandhiji murmured. "Hey Ram." A third shot rang out. The limp body settled to the ground. His spectacles dropped to the earth. The leather sandals slipped from his feet. Abha and Manu lifted Gandhiji's head and tender hands raised him from the ground and carried him into his room in Birla House. The eyes were half closed and he seemed to show signs of life. Sardar Patel, who had just left the Mahatma, was back at Gandhiji's side; he felt the pulse and thought he detected a faint beat. Someone searched frantically in the medicine chest for a shot of adrenaline but found none.

An alert spectator fetched Dr. D. P. Bhargava. He arrived ten minutes after the shooting. "Nothing on earth could save him," Dr. Bhargava reported later "he has been dead for ten minutes."

"Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth" said Albert Einstein about this man.

"Gandhiji was inevitable. If humanity is to progress, Gandhiji is inescapable. He lived, thought and acted inspired by the vision of humanity evolving toward a world of peace and harmony. We may ignore Gandhi at our own risk." Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.