In a quiet corner of Bengaluru lives a man of paradoxes and passion. Jayaprakash Sarda, 51, is perhaps India’s most unusual Gandhi collector, for he is also an ardent admirer of Subhash Chandra Bose.
For over four decades, Jayaprakash has painstakingly amassed one of the most comprehensive private collections of Mahatma Gandhi memorabilia: handwritten letters, rare newspapers, original photographs, stamps, coins, spinning wheels, fantasy notes, and even cutlery – all sourced through traders, personal networks, and chance discoveries, especially from Gujarat.
But what makes Jayaprakash remarkable is not just the breadth of his collection, but the depth of his perspective. He does not place Gandhi on a pedestal. “I’m aware of his flaws,” he says matter-of-factly. He is critical of Gandhi’s ambiguous relationships with women like Sushila Nayyar and Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, and is disappointed that Sardar Patel – who received 13 out of 15 votes for Congress Presidency in 1946 – was asked to step aside so Nehru could become India’s first Prime Minister.
Jayaprakash also rues Gandhi’s failure to defend Bhagat Singh and Chandrashekhar Azad, though he acknowledges that Gandhi did write letters attempting to intervene. His collection includes some of these rare, unpublished letters that reveal a side of Gandhi not always found in history books – letters that show the man as well as the Mahatma. Gandhi’s sharp wit comes alive in some of these correspondences. In one letter to Rajkumari Amrit Kaur of the House of Kapurtala, Gandhi cheekily addressed her as “My dear idiot”. She responded in kind, with equal affection, “My dear Mickey”.
Jayaprakash’s favourites among his books are the eight-volume biography Mahatma by DG Tendulkar and The Man Who Killed Gandhi by Manohar Malgaonkar. Even more fascinating is his collection of mundane objects – matchboxes, notebooks, utensils – that bear the slogan ‘Jai Hind’, ‘Vande Mataram’ or images of the charkha. His collector’s eye once spotted cutlery from the 1938 Haripura Session of the Indian National Congress, every piece stamped with the national flag and charkha. This set, given only to VIP attendees, may be the only extant one.
Jayaprakash’s journey has not been a solitary one. His wife Anuradha, he admits with a laugh, ‘knows she is my second love’. His brother, ever supportive, has helped finance this lifelong obsession. But as he grows older, the pressures of family have started to weigh heavy. He has begun to part with some of the 60 original Gandhi letters he once vowed never to sell.
And yet, the collector in him endures. When a friend, Brigadier Vikas Chaudhary, asked for a letter in which Gandhi urged Tagore to rein in his friend Bose, Jayaprakash simply handed it over. No negotiation. No price. That selfless gesture has earned him an unexpected perk – a yearly invitation to the Brigadier’s cantonment in Jodhpur.
When I suggested he catalogue his top 100 Gandhi Memorabilia, he laughed: ‘I’m too lazy.’ He has no plans to build a museum either – ‘too expensive’. While his collection has been exhibited over a hundred times, he remains deeply protective of it. “Taking them out of the house worries me. What if they get damaged?” he wonders aloud. Still, he remains open to selling the entire collection – to someone who promises to preserve it as one unified body. ‘The cost?’ he says with a grin. ‘Priceless.’ The real collectors, he tells me, are not in it for the money. “Most people today collect Gandhi because ‘Gandhi is money, and money is Gandhi,’ he says, his voice tinged with irony and sadness.
Jayaprakash embodies the contradictions that defined Gandhi’s own life – deep conviction, critical thought, and above all, a commitment to truth, even when it is uncomfortable. In a world obsessed with valuation, here is a man who reminds us of values.