India After Gandhi: The History of the World's Largest Democracy

by Ramachandra Guha

  These claims were stoutly resisted. Gandhi himself had struggled against untouchability from long before Ambedkar had entered politics. And he had given his life in the cause of Hindu—Muslim harmony. For the Mahatma, swaraj (freedom) would have meaning only if it came to all Indians, regardless of caste or creed (or gender).

  These were commitments Jawaharlal Nehru shared with Gandhi. In other matters, he might have been a somewhat wayward disciple. With his fellow intellectuals he chose to take India down the road of industrial modernization, rather than nurture a village-centred economy (as Gandhi would have wanted). But when it came to preserving the rights of minorities he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Mahatma. His was likewise a nationalism that was both composite as well as egalitarian.

  Inspired by Gandhi, and guided by Nehru, the Indian Constitution both abolished untouchability and proclaimed the state neutral in matters of religion. Such was the law; how was the practice? Among all the tests faced by the new state this, perhaps, was the sternest. Since Hindus were both in a numerical majority and in positions of political pre-eminence, the idea of India would stand scrutiny only if they respected the rights and liberties of Indians different from themselves.

  II

  The idea of Pakistan had as its justification the need for minorities to be free of the fear of Hindu domination. Paradoxically, though, the state of Pakistan was created out of Muslim majority areas where this problem did not exist in the first place.

  After 1947 there were large populations of Muslims scattered all over peninsular India – as they had been before that date. Several million Muslims migrated across the borders to East and West Pakistan, but many more than this elected to stay behind in India. The creation of Pakistan had made their position deeply vulnerable. This was the view, ironically, of two men who had played critical roles in the making of Pakistan: the Bengali Muslim Leaguer H. S. Suhrawardy and his United Provinces counterpart Chaudhry Khaliquzzaman. On 10 September 1947 – less than a month after Independence and Partition – Suhrawardy wrote to Khaliquzzaman in horror that ‘the Muslims in the Indian Union have been left high and dry’. The antagonism caused by the formation of Pakistan had been heightened by the flight into India of Hindu and Sikh refugees. Suhrawardy now feared that ‘there may be a general conflagration which can well destroy the Muslim minority in the Indian Union’. As for Khaliquzzaman, he had reached the melancholy conclusion that ‘the partition of India [had] proved positively injurious to the Muslims of India, and on along-term basis for Muslims everywhere’.

  To protect their interests and their lives – Suhrawardy drafted ‘a declaration of co-operation and mutual assistance between the two Dominions’, committing both to protecting their minorities and to not making provocative statements against each other. Suhrawardy got Gandhi to endorse the declaration, but failed to get Jinnah to consent, despite begging him to do so, ‘for the sake of the helpless and hapless Muslims of the Indian Union’.2

  As we have seen, the creation of Pakistan provided a fillip to the forces of Hindu communalism. The RSS and its ilk could now argue that the Muslims were betrayers who had divided the nation. In the view of the extremist Hindu, these Muslims should either go to Pakistan or face the consequences. The RSS grew in strength immediately after Partition, and although the murder of Gandhi in January 1948 stemmed its rise, the organization continued to exercise considerable influence in northern and western India.

  Truth be told, there were chauvinists within the ruling Congress itself, men who were not completely convinced of the loyalty of Muslims to the new nation. Some were in positions of high authority. The governor of Bihar warned the owners of the great steel mill in Jamshed-pur that their Muslim employees would leave for Pakistan, but destroy the machinery before going. There were other such rumours floating around the town, but the factory owners stayed steadfast, issuing a notice that they had no intention of dismissing their Muslim employees or of promoting communal disunity among the workforce.3

  The deep insecurity of the Indian Muslim was foregrounded in a survey conducted by an American psychologist in 1950. His Muslim interviewees – who were from towns in north and west India – were beset by fear and suspicion. ‘We are regarded as Pakistani spies’, said one. ‘It is dangerous to live in a Hindu locality because they may abduct and rape our women’, said a second. ‘Hindus charge heavy black market prices for goods they sell to Muslims’, said a third.4

  III

  Among those who did not wholly trust the Muslims was Vallabhbhai Patel, Home Minister of India. Patel remembered that the majority of Muslims had voted for the League in 1946, even in areas which would not form part of Pakistan. After the two states were created he remained suspicious of those who had stayed behind. In a speech at Lucknow in early January 1948 he reminded his audience that it was in that town that ‘the foundation of the two-nation theory was laid’. For it was the UP intellectuals who had claimed that ‘Muslims were a separate nation’. Now, for those who had chosen not to go to Pakistan, it was not enough to give ’mere declarations of loyalty to the Indian Union , they ‘must give practical proof of their declarations’.5

  Later that year, the secretary of Patel’s Home Ministry wrote to the secretaries of all other departments, drawing their attention

  to one aspect of security which has assumed urgency and importance in the present context of relations with Pakistan. There is growing evidence that a section of Muslims in India is out of sympathy with the Government of India, particularly because of its policy regarding Kashmir and Hyderabad, and is actively sympathetic to Pakistan. Such Government servants are likely to be useful channels of information and would be particularly susceptible to the influence of their relatives.

  It is probable that among Muslim employees of Government there are some who belong to these categories. It is obvious that they constitute a dangerous element in the fabric of administration; and it is essential that they should not be entrusted with any confidential or secret work or allowed to hold key posts. For this purpose I would request you to prepare lists of Muslim employees in your Ministry and in the offices under your control, whose loyalty to the Dominion of India is suspected or who are likely to constitute a threat to security. These lists should be carefully prepared and scrutinised by the Heads of Departments or other higher authority, and should be used for the specific purposes of excluding persons from holding key posts or handling confidential or secret work.

  I need scarcely add that I am sure you will see that there is no witch hunting; and that only genuine cases are included in the lists. Those who are loyal and whose work is satisfactory should of course be given every cause to feel that their claims are no less than those of men belonging to the majoritycommunity.6

  This was an extraordinary letter, which sparked, if not a witch-hunt, an energetic attempt to seek out traces of disloyalty among the Muslim employees of the government of India. Consider the case of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), which had numerous Muslim employees, these entrusted with the upkeep of the great buildings of medieval India. When passed this letter by the education secretary, the ASI’s director general wrote to his circle heads asking them to furnish lists of Muslim employees, those loyal to the Dominion of India, and those ‘likely to constitute a danger to security’. The circle heads then commenced secret investigations among their staff, the results of which were communicated back to headquarters. Half a century later, their reports make for interesting and in some cases chilling reading.

  Several heads wrote back saying that they did not personally distrust any of their employees. However, they were pressured to transfer those likely to be in a position of vulnerability. The major of an infantry unit in Bijapur had advised the ASI that the custodian of the Gol Gumbuz was ‘not considered reliable’; he, apparently, had relatives in Hyderabad, a state which was refusing to join the Union. The custodian was then transferred to the Kanheri Caves in Bombay.

  The most detailed report came from the superi
ntendent of the northern circle, headquartered in Agra, and which had within its purview the Taj Mahal and Fatehpur Sikri. He listed twenty-eight employees whose relatives had migrated to Pakistan. Of these, he identified five ‘as persons whose loyalty to the Dominion of India may not be above suspicion’, who ‘may constitute a danger to security if they get a favourable opportunity’. One was a booking clerk in Agra Fort, with a brother, son and mother in Hyderabad (Sindh); another a watchman at the Taj Mahal with a wife in Karachi. Another Taj watchman had two sons and a daughter in Karachi. The superintendent listed another seven employees who ‘do not seem mischievous by nature, but may prove a useful channel for communicating information under the influence of their relations in Pakistan’.

  On 20 October the home secretary sent a follow-up letter, targeting officials who had close relatives in Pakistan. Now that several months had passed since Partition, he said, ‘there was no longer any reason [for] Government servants to keep their families in Pakistan. On the contrary, having regard to the strained relations between the two Dominions that would be prima facie evidence of disloyalty to the Dominion of India’ . Employees with families in Pakistan would have to bring them back within a month. The Home Ministry asked for lists of delinquents; it would then decide, case by case, whether ‘the interests of the country’ required disciplinary action against them.

  Once more, the home secretary’s instructions were passed on by the director general of the ASI to all his circle heads. Once more, the most detailed report came from the superintendent of the Agra circle, who did seem to regard this, with some relish, as a sort of witch-hunt. His ire was reserved particularly for the khadims, or hereditary watchmen, of the Taj Mahal, eighteen in all, whose posts were created by Emperor Shah Jahan in the seventeenth century, and later confirmed by the British. In the eyes of the superintendent they seemed all to be enemy agents, ‘unwilling to tell the whole truth about themselves’. At least six still had families in Pakistan. One khadim had overstayed with his relatives across the border; he had been suspended, and ordered to ‘hand over both summer and winter liveries and all other Government articles in his possession’. The superintendent wanted to suspend a second khadim, whom he suspected of wanting only to sell his property in Agra before migrating ‘to Pakistan surreptitiously’. He had also targeted a third, who ‘appears to have made efforts though not energetic enough to bring back the members of his family to India’.

  Agra lay in the United Provinces, whose Muslims were very deeply divided indeed. The Muslims of the Punjab had migrated en masse across the border. From Bombay and the south, many intellectuals had voluntarily migrated to Pakistan, but the working-class Muslims had stayed behind. Pakistan was too far and too alien for them to consider making a new life in a new place. However, the UP Mussalman spoke Urdu – the official language of Pakistan – and also lived close enough to be able to jump aboard a train and go there. Many went; many others stayed where they were.

  Almost every Muslim family in the UP was divided, and the employees of the ASI were no exception. The superintendent of the Agra circle, however, had no sympathy for employees with kin in what he considered ‘enemy’ territory. Bring them back, he told his subordinates, or face the consequences. A khadim named Shamsuddin had excited his boss’s suspicion by selling his house when his entire family was in Pakistan. In a somewhat pathetic petition dated 8 December 1948, Shamsuddin said that he had ‘not the least idea of ever going to Pakistan’. There were four reasons why he had disposed of his house: (1) to pay back a debt he owed his relatives; (2) as ‘my daughters are to be married, and I have to invest money in this peon’s duty of mine’; (3) as the refugee tenants who had been allotted his house were misusing it, and it was best to sell it before its condition further deteriorated; (4) as ‘I have to make arrangements for the last ceremonies of my life as my sons have deserted me’.

  The superintendent was not convinced, demanding more positive proof of Shamsuddin’s loyalty to the Union of India. A note of 13 June 1949 tells us that the khadim had travelled to Pakistan, and brought back with him his two unmarried daughters, and two grandchildren of a deceased daughter ‘over whom he could exercise control’.7

  Were the records of the government of India ever to be thrown open for those years, one might find that such loyalty oaths, extracted under pressure by senior officials, were very nearly ubiquitous. One scholar has recently found a statement issued in 1951 by Muslim pastoralists of Kachchh, the semi-arid part of Gujarat state which bordered the Sindh province of Pakistan. This assured the chief commissioner that ‘we are loyal to the Government of India, and if [the] Pakistan government attacks the Indian government, we will sacrifice our lives for the security of India’.8

  IV

  It is not clear whether the prime minister approved of the attempts to ascertain the loyalty of certain select employees of the government of India. But we do know that his view of the Muslim situation was somewhat different from that of his deputy. As he wrote to Patel, he deplored the ‘constant cry for retaliation and of vicarious punishment of the Muslims of India, because the Pakistanis punish Hindus. That argument does not appeal to me in the slightest. I am sure that this policy of retaliation and vicarious punishment will ruin India as well as Pakistan.’9 Where the home minister demanded that the Muslims prove their loyalty, the prime minister placed the onus on the Indian state, which had a constitutional obligation to make all its citizens, but the Muslims especially, feel secure.

  Nehru expressed these views both to Patel and in a series of letters he wrote to the chief ministers of various provinces.10 Three months after Partition he reminded them that

  we have a Muslim minority who are so large in numbers that they cannot, even if they want, go anywhere else. That is a basic fact about which there can be no argument. Whatever the provocation from Pakistan and whatever the indignities and horrors inflicted on non-Muslims there, we have got to deal with this minority in a civilized manner. We must give them security and the rights of citizens in a democratic State. If we fail to do so, we shall have a festering sore which will eventually poison the whole body politic and probably destroy it.

  Later in the same letter, he drew attention to ‘the paramount importance of preserving the public services from the virus of communal politics’.11

  This was a subject to which Nehru had necessarily to return. One provocation was quarrels about property, for in some places Muslims were being asked by over-energetic officers to give up their homes in favour of Hindu and Sikh refugees. The prime minister used the occasion of Gandhi’s birthday to warn against ‘creating an atmosphere of uncertainty and lack of security in the minds of large numbers of our Muslim fellow-countrymen’. For this had ‘far-reaching consequences not only in India but also in Kashmir. It affects our reputation abroad. A few houses or shops attached or taken possession of do not make very much difference. But, if wrongly done, they do affect our reputation and thus injure us.’

  The prime minister acknowledged that ‘Pakistan is pursuing a policy of utter callousness in this matter’. However, he insisted that ‘we cannot copy the methods or the ideals of Pakistan. They have declared themselves openly to be an Islamic State believing in the two-nation theory. We reject the theory and call ourselves a secular State giving full protection to all religions. We have to live up to our ideals and declarations. More especially on this day, Gandhi Jayanti, it is for us to remember what Gandhiji taught us and what he died for.’12

  Nehru had made communal organizations his principal target during the election campaign of 1951–2. That election was fought and won on the plank of not making India a ‘Hindu Pakistan’. However, Nehru continued to be worried about the rights of those Indians whose culture and faith demarcated them from the majority. A particular concern was the very low proportion of Muslims in positions of authority. There were hardly any Muslim officers left in the defence services, and not very many in the secretariat. This, he sensed, was the consequence of a failure in cr
eating a proper ’sense of partnership in every group and individual in the country, a sense of being a full sharer in the benefits and opportunities that are offered’. If India was to be ‘a secular, stable and strong state’, he told his chief ministers, then ‘our first consideration must be to give absolute fair play to our minorities, and thus to make them feel completely at home in India’.13

  V

  The acknowledged political leader of the Muslims left behind in the Indian Union was Maulana Abul Kalam Azad. Unlike his great rival Mohammad Ali Jinnah, Azad believed that non-Hindus could live with peace and honour in a united India. In Nehru’s characteristically eloquent formulation, Maulana Azad was ‘a peculiar and very special representative in a high degree of that great composite culture which has gradually grown in India’. He embodied that ‘synthesis of various cultures which have come one after another to India, rivers that have flowed in and lost themselves in the ocean of Indian life’.14

  Azad was deeply damaged by Partition. Seeing it as the failure of his life’s mission, he retreated from the world of party politics (though in any case his orientation was always more of the scholar than that of the mass leader). He served as education minister in the Union Cabinet, and in that capacity helped promote new academies for the nurturing of Indian literature, dance, music and art. His age and temperament, however, confined him for the most part to Delhi.

  A younger member of the Congress Party seeking amore active political role was Saif Tyabji, scion of a famous nationalist family. Grandson of an early president of the Congress, and himself an engineer educated at Cambridge, Tyabji was well placed to be a modernist bridge between the Congress and the Muslim masses. In 1955 he wrote a series of essays in the influential Urdu newspaper Inqilab, these later published in English translation under the title The Future of Muslims in India. In the 1952 election Muslims had voted in large numbers for the Congress, a party which, under Nehru’s leadership, they felt they could trust more than its rivals.15 Tyabji, however, felt that the Muslims should do more than vote for India’s dominant party – they should join it, and influence its policies.