About a year ago, Qudsia Zai asked me to write a foreword to a little book about Gandhiji, which she had written especially for children. I pleaded lack of time and a reluctance to accept this suggestion. She was, however, insistent and d not wish to hurry me at all. It became difficult for me to continue to say no to her, because she had put her heart in the little book she had written. It was something much more than a book to her and the story of Gandhi obviously meant a great deal to her. For a year her manuscript has been with me, a constant reminder of what I was expected, and yet was so reluctant, to do. At last I took this manuscript with me to Sonamarg in the Upper Sind Valley of Kashmir, and there, in sight of the high mountains and the glaciers, I thought again of the story of Gandhi.