FOUNDATION – STONES

For the last ten years, or more, I have been obliged, on my way to and from work, to pass and 're-pass' by a vast stone with inscriptions, dates, on which a magnificent Municipal Building or Town Hall was to have risen many years ago. That stone has obstinately refused to grow in spite of the affectionate attentions of boy and bird and beast. Remember it was laid by Hope. Nevertheless it remains so hopeless and helpless. How our Hopes come down in this wicked world! Yet perhaps the thing was not so useless: I have often seen an unfortunate man afflicted in the head delivering sermon after sermon from that not too elevated mount.

In another compound not so public are two or three stones in different stages of growth and still far from completion. They are going easy, having comparatively lighter burdens to bear than expected. The crows, in whose dictionary the word 'useless' finds no place, polish their beaks on them. One of these was laid by a great nationalist and another by a big white Sahib. When the Congress first came to power the nationalist stone showed some activity. But better times intervened and the other stone got its turn of luck, (Kind fate be thanked) for a short while. But now, with independence and a feeling of having arrived, both have ceased to trouble about growth and are now content to dream of 'what might have been.'

One foundation-stone in a remote village, meant to develop into a wonderful sanatorium, is now a gaily or-namented, vermilion-painted, bright and beaming, wonder-working idol. It cures more people than the hospital would have. And very cheap too, one cocoanut per cure on its lusty head. Buildings have come up around it, raised by the hand of piety and the greed of trade. Foundation-stone "well and truly laid", I say.

A friend, who I find some difficulty in disbelieving, tells me that a stone in his village, long deserted, has become so venerable with its mossy head and fading inscriptions that historians are being attracted by it. No wonder! Let no wise Pickwicks smile. Stones, especially heavy stones must attract, otherwise what will happen to Newton's law of gravity! My hope is that the Archaeological Department at least, being heavier, will be saved.

All this is nobody's fault. It is this new democracy, this independence that many have fought for and died for, some like myself have merely lived for, that has accelerated so phenomenally this stonelaying (or brick-laying?) activity. No minister is allowed to leave home or office without laying a stone on the way. But no strutting cock or humble hen ever comes out of these stones. Our friends who are organizing these foundation laying ceremonies seem to labour under the impression that the fathers of these stones could be expected to be not entirely indifferent to the fortunes of the young ones they have laid; that a stone laid by an education minister immediately becomes the favourite of the education department and cannot but be 'granted' all prayers. But they must remember that love of children is not in direct but in inverse proportion to the number of them one is encumbered with. Let them re-read the chapters on the laws of diminishing love. Let them not complain that they asked for a school and got a stone, or that they begged on bended knees or a hospital and got a 'concrete' block!

If only our great men knew the ancient history of foundation-stone-laying they would have thought twice, and shuddered thrice, before approaching a stone. Our savage forefathers thought that no town, no bridge, in short, nothing that was meant to endure, could so endure unless a human being was sacrificed under it. Or to convert it into philosophical jargon, that nothing could endure that was not built on blood, on sacrifice, on sweat, on tears... The idea probably was that the person so sacrificed became a protecting spirit, the only true foundation for anything great. In those days people were not unwilling to die for their town, bridge, etc especially as they lived for ever after as Gods. When willing victims became scarce first strangers and then the mere shadows of people were substituted; the owners of the shadows died soon after. In some places even the measurement of the shadow of the person put under the stone was sufficient to fix the thing and secure his ghost for it. This murderous bloodstained business is what has developed into the innocent festivity of foundation-stone laying, with no harm to layer, to the 'layee' or the flock looking on in enthusiastic admiration and hope.

One thing remarkable about these foundation-stones is passing unnoticed, that they are no longer foundation stones. They are not content to do their selfless work under the ground unseen unhonoured. By the way, who is? I have seen foundation stones five, ten, even twenty feet above ground. I hope to see them well above the first floor shortly. An understandable principle this, that foundation stones are not to support but to be supported, nay, held aloft. Do you think, in these days of world wide publicity for everything, that a great stone laid by a great man would willingly bury itself under the earth, supporting huge edifices? (The foundation stones of our homes, our solid women, even they are not so content to remain). I won't start objecting till after these have become coping-stones or weather-cocks or revolving lights on roof-tops beckoning ships to 1 heir doom.

Occasionally a foundation-stone has the good fortune, in its own life-time, to see the building complete itself. Verify, very verily, does its heart rejoice then. It sees the well-dressed crowds gather again to witness another ceremony, the grand Opening ceremony. But often the opening is long before the structure is complete, before it has any doors or windows, except the one hastily provided for the occasion, to open. More often the opening is too long delayed, classes have been in full swing, the doors and windows have been opened and closed a thousand times by active little urchins, the building itself is being subjected to analysis and parsing, when the august personage arrives. Doors are closed again to be really opened with acclamations and heaven-shaking music.

This is of course inevitable and ought not to be too much lamented. Buildings must wait, like maids, though decaying, till the great man arrives. How else we are to honour, and be honoured by our great man? Institutions can be opened but once, and except in schools there is no 'reopening'. Within my knowledge, (I seem to know a little too much, don't I?) a few (very few, thank God) institutions have been opened more than once, first by a local grandee, and then suddenly an all-province figure swimming into view, by this new figure. Neither the local population, nor the proud edifice is known to have protested even slightly. Prize distributions in schools too are sometimes conducted twice in similar inevitable circumstances but without additional expense.

I understand the opening of buildings. But when they talk of opening bridges, I am horrified. Bridges built at enormous cost to cover up dangerous streams being 'opened again'! and men, women to drop down to take holy dips, their last! Do they sometimes ask people to open innocent little children's stomachs?