Tribute: Sadhanatai was Ice to Baba Amte's fire

It was almost a decade ago that I had the opportunity to meet the Amtes — Baba, his wife Sadhanatai, their sons Prakash and Vikas, and grandson Digant — at Hemalkasa in the remote Gadchiroli district. It is an experience that I shall never forget my entire life. Sadhanatai’s demise on Saturday sent me down memory lane.

For those who don’t know the Amtes, here is a brief introduction. Baba could be called the last of the Gandhians, who practised what he preached.

Inspired by Mahatma Gandhi’s call to serve the most downtrodden in society, Baba took up the cause of lepers who were (and still are to an extent) seen as sinners. His faith was so firm that he did not hesitate to inject himself with the leprosy bacteria to see if the vaccine was really working or not.

His son Vikas took over from him as Baba moved on to other causes while his younger son Prakash set up a free dispensary for tribals in Gadchiroli district where, for the past 25 years, he has treated over 1 lakh tribals free of cost. The Amtes’ commitment to their cause is beyond question and duly recognised — Baba was honoured with the Magasaysay Award.

Where does Sadhanatai come in? She was to Baba what Kasturba was to Mahatma Gandhi — the shadow that never left them. It is quite fascinating to see how their lives were so similar. Neither Sadhanatai nor Kasturba had the social work inclination in them, but they remained with their husbands through thick and thin. They fought with them but never left them.

A chat with Sadhanatai on that winter evening, as she followed Baba during his brisk walk (he walked real fast, despite having spinal cord problems), was entertaining. She narrated their fights to me, how he had met her the first time. She also reminisced how a non-conformist Baba laughed at her when she observed fasts. “He never understands, I do it for him,” she blushed.

The chemistry between them was terrific. He joked around with her even then, and she responded in mock anger. The couple was completely totally into each other. She told me about their first meeting, his first letter, his conditions, his temper and then the travails of the marriage.

There was no regret. If anything, there was pride in her husband, who she once described as a volcano.

Theirs was a marriage of fire and ice. Perhaps men like Baba need an iceberg like Sadhanatai to achieve the feats they do. Her autobiography was aptly titled Samidha — offerings that go into the fire of a havan. She had offered herself to the yagna started by Baba.

She was laid to rest next to the samadhi of Baba (who died in 2008) in Anandvan, their karmabhoomi.