by Kuldip Nayar
It was on the evening of 24 October that India received definite confirmation about the infiltration of Pakistani tribesmen into Kashmir. Nehru was hosting a dinner at that time in New Delhi in honour of Thailand’s foreign minister. Thus far, India had not taken any military action. Meherchand Mahajan had written to Patel on 23 October that the raiders had penetrated deep into the state. He said: ‘The help that you kindly promised has not arrived and we are surrounded on all sides.’ New Delhi was still caught on the horns of a legalistic dilemma although Mahajan had urged in the same letter: ‘you will agree with me it is hardly the time to think of any constitutional issues’.
Records of the Defence Committee’s meeting on 25 October show that Mountbatten, who was in the chair, favoured Kashmir’s temporary accession to India on the understanding that the people’s wishes would be ascertained after the restoration of law and order. Nehru and Patel found nothing to prevent India from sending assistance even in the absence of accession. They argued that India was duty-bound to provide assistance to Kashmir because it was the successor state to the British in the same way as the British were successors to the Mughals. Therefore, India exercised suzerainty over the entire subcontinent excluding those parts which had acceded to Pakistan.
By this time, Sheikh Abdullah was out of jail and organized people’s resistance against the invaders (he was released in September 1947). The maharaja sought India’s help which was denied until he signed an instrument of accession. Once Srinagar had legally accepted New Delhi’s requirement, Indian troops, in the face of Mountbatten’s reluctance, flew to Srinagar which at that time was within shooting range of the invaders. The two countries were at war now and India began pushing Pakistanis out of Kashmir.
The first Indian contingent arrived at the Srinagar airport when ‘the raiders’ were at its outskirts. An army major was killed on the tarmac. Had the tribesman not wasted time in looting and raping women in Baramulla, they would have been successful in capturing the airport, without which it would not have been possible to land Indian troops. A daring army officer, Major-General K.S. Thimayya, who later became chief of the army staff, drove a detachment of tanks to Zojila Pass at a height of 11,575 feet during winter, hastening the end of the war.
Gandhi blessed the operation on the ground that if cowardice came in the way of saving a community, it was better to fight to do so. This was his reply to those who wondered how he could support an armed conflict.
‘Why did you stop and not take over the whole of Kashmir?’, was a question I posed to Lt Gen. Kulwant Singh, who headed the Kashmir operation, many years after the ceasefire. He said the prime minister had instructed him to go up to the area where the population spoke Kashmiri. Nehru did not want the army to go into the Punjabi-speaking territory (now Azad Kashmir). In a sense, Nehru wanted only the Kashmir Valley: His thinking was clear from what he offered Liaquat Ali Khan at the Commonwealth Prime Ministers’ Conference in London in October 1947. It was the division of the state with certain areas in western Poonch and the north-western part of the state of Jammu & Kashmir going to Pakistan.
Hostilities in Kashmir escalated into a fully-fledged war between India and Pakistan. The fighting was still going on when Liaquat came to Delhi for a meeting of the Joint Defence Council on 26 November. He and Nehru agreed that Pakistan should persuade the tribesmen to cease fighting and leave Kashmir as soon as possible and that India should withdraw the bulk of its forces, requesting the UN to send a commission to hold a plebiscite.
It was New Delhi which referred the case of Pakistan’s attack to the UN, as Mountbatten had advised Nehru. It proved to be a mistake. There were many Indian leaders who did not wish the case to be referred to the UN, afraid that the British would play their old pro-Pakistani games. In this they were not proved wrong.
India suffered a major setback when the case came before the UN Security Council. This was primarily due to the brilliant advocacy by Pakistan foreign minister, Zafarullah Khan, an Ahmedi (his entire community was subsequently declared non-Muslim). Pakistan was able to refute all the charges levelled against it and contended, quite effectively, that India was hostile to Pakistan. He however admitted that Pakistani troops were fighting in Kashmir. The entire complexion changed and the UN passed a resolution (13 August 1948) calling for, (1) a ceasefire; (2) Pakistan to withdraw the tribals and place its troops under the command of local civilian authorities; (3) India to withdraw the bulk of its troops; (4) UN observers to supervise the ceasefire; and (5) holding of the plebiscite.
The resolution was not entitled Kashmir, as was India’s endeavour, but related generally to peace and security. India was unhappy. Nehru believed that this couldn’t have been possible without the help of Philip Noel-Baker, an ‘Old Labour’ minister in the Attlee government at the UN. It was apparent that the UK had decided to adopt a pro-Pakistan stance not because of any merit in the case but in the belief that the country was essential to its Middle-East policy. Baker was also personally prejudiced against India. He never forgave Nehru for not consulting him or even seeking his advice on disarmament, the subject on which he won a Nobel Prize in 1959.
When the British argued that Kashmir was a ‘territory in dispute’, the US first disagreed and stated that they ‘found it difficult to deny the legal validity of Kashmir’s accession to India’. The US opposed Noel-Baker’s resolution at the UN to allow Pakistan to deploy its troops in Kashmir. However, under pressure from the UK, the US eventually agreed to a draft resolution which would permit the entry of Pakistani troops into Kashmir ‘only if India concurred’.
Subsequently, the UK and the US joined hands. They did not want Pakistan to take any action to stop the invaders until a formula was found for a solution of the Kashmir problem acceptable to her. They also favoured removing the Sheikh Abdullah government and bringing Kashmir under the UN’s control and the subsequent organization of a plebiscite.
Nehru was furious at the British machinations. He wrote to Vijayalakshmi Pandit on 16 February 1948:
I cannot imagine that the security council could probably behave in the trivial and partisan manner in which it had and it is not surprising that the world is going to pieces … and the US and Britain have played a dirty game, Britain being the chief actor behind the scenes.
Nehru originally thought the Western bias was due to the US pursuit of concessions in Pakistan, but after a briefing by Indian officials at the UN, he realized that Noel-Baker was the ‘villain of the piece’. Nehru complained angrily to Attlee that Noel-Baker had in a conversation with Sheikh Abdullah dismissed as untrue the charge that Pakistan had assisted the raiders in entering Kashmir. Six decades later, Prime Minister Gordon Brown publicly admitted that London was misled by its UN envoy, Noel-Baker.
Nehru was, however, so incensed with the UK that India’s membership to the Commonwealth became a question mark. However, his friends, the Mountbattens, were keen on having India on board. How could a republic accept the Queen as its head? The question tormented Nehru. The acceptance of Commonwealth membership in 1947 was independent India’s first major foreign policy decision. It constituted a watershed in the evolution of the Commonwealth, establishing a precedent for non-white republican membership. The Mountbattens, as I learnt, were gratified.
The intelligentsia was against India joining the Commonwealth which was a reminder of our slavery. The British had committed so many atrocities that our association would give the impression of cowardice. They had not even asked for forgiveness or offered apologies. Many Congressmen too didn’t favour the idea of being hitched to British rulers in one way or another. Nehru’s defence was that it augured well for the future and that the old conflict between India and the UK had been resolved in a friendly and honourable way.
Nehru felt belittled by the attitude of both London and Washington towards the ceasefire proposal he had submitted to the UN. Subsequently, in December 1950, India rejected the UN offer to mediate in Kashmir. Nehru said at a press conference, at which I w
as present, that
the people who run the government of India have a record in the past of standing for what they consider to be right regardless of the consequences for the last thirty years and they propose to do that in regard to Kashmir and any other matter.
Nehru was opposed to a plebiscite but on different grounds. He told Mountbatten that ‘with the troops of the Indian Dominion in military occupation of Kashmir and with the National Conference under Sheikh Abdullah in power, such propaganda and pressure would be brought to bear that the average Muslim would never have the courage to vote for Pakistan.’
Without clearance from the government of India, Mountbatten suggested to Jinnah a plebiscite under the UN, with an advance complement of observers and organizers preparing the ‘necessary atmosphere’. Jinnah instead suggested that he and Mountbatten were ‘the only two who could organize the plebiscite’. To this, Mountbatten’s comment was that he had no authority to do so; Lord Ismay, who was Mountbatten’s chief of staff in India, added that Attlee would not give his consent.
Chester Bowles, then the US ambassador, told me that India would have won the plebiscite if it had held it before 1953. Then New Delhi had popular backing in Kashmir, but things changed subsequently, he said. He was probably referring to the arrest of Sheikh Abdullah.
The record of the talks, given by Mountbatten to Nehru in the form of a report, which I have seen, said that at the end of the meeting Jinnah was quite pessimistic and said ‘India was out to throttle and choke the Dominion of Pakistan at birth’. At that time, Claude Auchinleck, in a cable, sent a similar assessment to London: ‘I have no hesitation in affirming that the present Indian cabinet are implacably determined to do all in their power to prevent the establishment of the Dominion of Pakistan on a firm basis.’
The conflict in Kashmir was still raging when Hyderabad became a point of concern. Landlocked as it was, the state could not accede to any other country other than India although the Nizam’s preference was for Pakistan. The British had rewarded him with the title of ‘His Exalted Highness’ for his services. The Nizam’s grandiose idea was to declare himself a rightful descendant of the great Mughal dynasty. He also imagined India was too embroiled in Kashmir to pay any attention to Hyderabad.
The Kashmir war prompted New Delhi to stop the transfer of Karachi’s share of the cash balances of an undivided India. The Arbitration Tribunal had given Pakistan Rs 75 crore but New Delhi had paid only Rs 20 crore. Patel explained that India could not reasonably be asked to make a payment when an armed conflict was in progress. Pakistan’s reply was that at no stage of the negotiations was the Kashmir question mentioned or considered. Therefore, linking the two was an ‘unfriendly act’.
A large section of the Indian government wanted to adjust Pakistan’s share against the property which the Hindus and Sikhs had left behind. A rough estimate was that the evacuee property in Pakistan totalled Rs 500 crore ($375 million) as against Rs 100 crore ($75 million) in India, a ratio of five to one.
Mahatma Gandhi was appalled over the non-payment of dues to Karachi. Patel never forgave Gandhi for forcing the issue, nor did the extremist Hindus. They found him in the way of their design to set up a Hindu state. They conspired, and one of them shot him dead on 30 January 1948.
Patel submitted his resignation from the cabinet because he felt personally responsible for Gandhi’s assassination. His resignation was also intended to mollify the general opinion that pointed fingers at him. Everyone was aware that he was unhappy with the Mahatma who had gone on a fast to pressurize New Delhi to transfer the assets due to Pakistan. Failing to provide any security to Gandhi even after the bomb thrown by a person named Madan Lal a few days earlier (on 20 January 1948) was unforgivable. I was present at that prayer meeting. Gandhi acted as if nothing had happened. Everyone, including I, thought it was a cracker but learnt the next day from newspaper reports that it was a bomb.
Patel was known to be soft towards the RSS (Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh), which was suspected of involvement in Gandhi’s assassination. Patel banned the RSS but withdrew the ban soon after. It was as if he was going through the motions. Patel’s papers say that the Hindu Mahasabha, not RSS, was to blame. I do not think there is any difference between the two.
Nehru implored Patel not to resign and said that ‘in the crisis we face after Bapu’s death, I think it is my duty, and if I may venture to say, yours also, to face it together as friends and colleagues’. Patel was touched by this expression of affection and even abandoned his stand that every ministry was autonomous.
I was then working with Anjam, and 30 January 1948 was like any other normal winter day, sunny and cool. The PTI teleprinter was belching out words relentlessly in a corner of the office. The desk-in-charge, Sabri sahib, gave me a long copy datelined London, for translation. The peon had placed before me a cup of tea, hot and sugary. I was sipping it slowly when the teleprinter’s bell rang. I rushed to the teleprinter and read the flash: Gandhi Shot.
A colleague of mine with a motorbike immediately drove me to Birla House. It wore a sombre, forlorn look. I could hear from afar the chant ‘Gandhi Amar Rahe’. There was no one at the entrance to check the people entering. Swathed in white khadi, a group of men and women stood around Gandhiji’s body. They were his immediate followers who stayed with him. Many who had come early for the afternoon prarthana (prayer) had stayed back.
There was not much of a crowd. I could see Nehru, Patel, and Defence Minister Baldev Singh overcome by grief and their loss was palpable. I saw Azad sitting beneath a tree all on his own, lost deep in thought. Unfortunately he, an important voice before Partition, had ceased to count after Independence. Nehru continued to consult him and respect his advice but Patel would often relate how the Maulana’s influence had been reduced to nothing. By contrast, Gandhi invariably sought his advice.
I saw Governor General Lord Mountbatten arriving and saluting the body of the Mahatma, placed on a dais at the centre of the compound. ‘Thank God, he was not a Punjabi,’ Baldev Singh told Mountbatten. ‘He was not a Muslim either and we are broadcasting this fact.’ This would, I thought, stop the rumour that the assassin was a Muslim. Besides the dark cloud of gloom, anger and vendetta could easily have engulfed the country. Gandhi represented unity and pluralism.
By now the police presence was building into a large force. Gandhi had never liked the fuss of security. Leaders should not shun the public, he would say. Although the men in khaki had taken over the place, no one pushed me or any other person out of the circle of mourners around the body. Birla House still looked forlorn even though a sea of humanity surrounded it. A few devotees were singing Gandhi’s favourite bhajan: ‘Ishwar, Allah tere naam.’
I saw Nehru climbing a boundary wall and wiping his tears. In a broken voice, he said: ‘The light has gone out of our lives. Bapu is no more. A glory has departed and the sun that warmed and brightened our lives has set and we are left to shiver in the cold and dark.’ Nehru broke down, as did the crowd. There was hardly a face with dry eyes. The man who had guided India’s destiny for decades was gone. Who would the nation turn to now? Who would span the distance between Nehru and Patel who were drifting apart?
I did not see Nathuram Godse, who had shot the Mahatma thrice from close range. He had probably been locked up in a room in Birla House or been taken away by the police. I was too overwhelmed with grief to concern myself with where the killer of the apostle of non-violence was. I saw a trickle of blood and some flowers crushed on the path which Gandhi always took from the building to the place of prayer. Even with scores of people around, the path looked desolate. One man’s absence had made all the difference.
I tried to comprehend the meaning of the loss while struggling with a surge of emotion. I could see history exploding before my eyes. Perhaps I was too soft, too sentimental, too raw and too new to journalism and had not been hardened even by the carnage that I had witnessed during Partition. I wept unashamedly.
It was a catharsis of t
he anger which had swelled within me after seeing the killings during the days of Partition. I felt blank. I remembered the time when I saw the Mahatma on my arrival in Delhi from Pakistan. He epitomized for me all of India’s sufferings and dreams. Only a week earlier Gandhi had told B.C. Roy, the tall Congress leader: ‘What’s the good of my living? Neither the people nor those in power have any use for me. “Do or Die” becomes me more in the circumstances. I wish to die in harness, taking the name of God with my last breath.’ It is believed that when he collapsed under Godse’s bullets, he uttered the words ‘Hey Ram’.
I walked up to the place of prayer and stood there for a long time. It exuded an air of asceticism and spiritualism. It touched me within as if I was a part of the audience, the Indian people, whom Gandhi was counselling to renounce violence. Would the nation follow his voice, which a fanatic Hindu had silenced? Would his mission for secularism be completed after his sacrifice? At least, for the time being, the loss had fused the different religious communities – Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, and Christians – into one multitude of sorrow; as one nation in mourning. The miracle of Gandhi would remain, I was confident.
Pakistan did not join India in mourning Gandhi’s assassination. Even Jinnah’s reaction was lukewarm: ‘He was one of the greatest men produced by the Hindu community.’ I have not found any recognition of Gandhi’s greatness in Pakistan, as if doing so would belittle Jinnah.
