Reporter (to Mahatma Gandhi): Mr. Gandhi, what do you think of Western Civilization? Gandhi: I think it would be a good idea.

The dust of Sevagram settled slowly around the small, whitewashed structures as the late afternoon sun cast long shadows. I, a young reporter dispatched from the London Times, had traveled for weeks, enduring heat, bureaucratic hurdles, and a humbling sense of my own privilege, just to secure this interview. The weight of expectation, the enormity of representing a nation grappling with its imperial past and uncertain future, pressed upon me. My assignment was simple, yet profoundly difficult: to gauge Mahatma Gandhi’s opinion on Western Civilization. It was a question loaded with assumptions, anxieties, and centuries of complex history.

He sat spinning khadi on his charkha, the rhythmic whir a peaceful counterpoint to the churning in my own mind. He had offered tea, simple and sweet, and engaged in small talk about the monsoon's progress before I finally mustered the courage to pose the question. It felt almost sacrilegious to reduce such a nuanced thinker to a soundbite. I cleared my throat, adjusted my spectacles, and spoke, carefully framing the inquiry to avoid sounding condescending or accusatory.

“Mr. Gandhi,” I began, “given your steadfast commitment to Indian tradition, to self-sufficiency, and to a life rooted in simplicity, what, if anything, do you think of Western Civilization?”

He paused his spinning, his gaze meeting mine with an unsettling directness. His eyes, though aged, held a startling clarity. It wasn’t a withering look, or a judgmental one. Just…observant. A slight smile played on his lips, a smile that always seemed to know more than it revealed.

He didn’t launch into a lengthy critique of colonialism, nor did he offer a passionate defense of Indian values. He didn't mention the industrial revolution, the Enlightenment, or the vast disparities of wealth and power that defined the West. Instead, after a moment of quiet contemplation, he simply said, "I think it would be a good idea."

The comment hung in the air, utterly deflating my carefully crafted questions and preconceived notions. I stared, blinking. It was…unexpected. Disarmingly so. A complete ruination of the Pulitzer-worthy analysis I’d imagined crafting.

“A…a good idea, sir?” I stammered, feeling momentarily foolish. “Could you elaborate?”

He resumed his spinning, the charkha’s wheel gaining speed. "It would be a good idea," he repeated, this time his tone more conversational. “If it were. If Western civilization chose to live up to its potential. I do not condemn the technologies, the advancements in science, the pursuit of knowledge. These are things to be celebrated. But what I see too often is a civilization driven by greed, by the relentless pursuit of material comfort, by the exploitation of both people and the natural world. That is not a good idea.”

He gestured towards the small garden surrounding his ashram, brimming with vegetables and herbs. “This is civilization. Living in harmony with nature, meeting our needs with our own hands, fostering community. If Western civilization were to embrace these principles, to prioritize human dignity over economic gain, to renounce violence and embrace selfless service… then, yes, it would be a good idea.”

He explained that for him, civilization wasn’t defined by skyscrapers or industrial production, but by character. By the moral and spiritual development of its people. He acknowledged the West had produced great thinkers and artists, but argued that their contributions were often overshadowed by its inherent inequalities and its tendency towards domination.

“You have invented wonderful machines,” he continued, “but have you invented machines to cure the human heart? To eradicate hatred? To ensure justice for all?”

The silence that followed was heavier than before. I realised I hadn't come prepared for such a subtle dismantling of the question itself. I’d expected a condemnation, or perhaps a grudging acknowledgement of certain benefits. What I received was a challenge. A profound suggestion that Western civilization wasn't inherently good or bad, but rather deeply unfulfilled. It had the potential to be good, but was currently falling tragically short.

Leaving Sevagram, I knew my article would be radically different from anything my editors anticipated. It wouldn’t be a scathing indictment of the West, nor a glowing endorsement. It would be a story about a man who dared to redefine civilization itself, and a baffling, brilliant comment that forced a reconsideration of everything I thought I understood. The quote, “I think it would be a good idea,” wouldn't make headlines, but its quiet power, I suspected, would resonate long after the initial shock of its simplicity had worn off. It was less a judgment, and more a yearning - a plea for a civilization with the courage to be truly, profoundly, good.