Palace of Clouds

by Rajyashree Kumari Bikaner

  Every few days, the forest green Harrods van would arrive at our house in Edgware and unload further parcels and packages. It was a great challenge setting up house keeping in mind that till now everything in India had all been done for me without any exertion on my part. I was of course extremely grateful for the generosity of my parents in allowing me to furnish and prepare my first little house in the way that I wanted. I was also fortunate in having many beautiful artefacts from Bikaner that my parents had given me as I was growing up and also at the time of my wedding. It was a good way to mix the old and the new and I tried to create for my new husband and myself a cosy and beautiful new home. Though I have moved many times since, the house in Edgware will always hold a special place in my heart, as it was my very first independent home.

  Being a trifle ignorant the in the family planning department it seems that at the time I was in the early stages of pregnancy but did not realise it. I was feeling quite ill and run down most of the time, when I confided in MJ he reassured me and said that it was probably a bit of wind! The bit of wind turned out to be my first baby, Anupama! We were moving out of ‘Dipak’ at the time and every day we would remove several suitcases of our possessions to take with us to Edgware. While I was busy hoisting the heavy suitcase into the car I did not realise that I was coming dangerously close to harming myself and my baby. Finally, I could not bear feeling sick any longer and went to see my local GP Dr. Stanton, a very kind lady who, after hearing my symptoms asked me if I thought I might be pregnant. I stared at her vacantly and declared that I had no idea. ‘Well, let’s get a test done,’ she said reassuringly. Soon the results arrived, I was definitely pregnant and the baby was due in mid April 1974. It came as a huge surprise and shock to me and MJ, but we soon got used to the idea that we were to be parents shortly.

  Our house in Edgware was in a nice residential area where we had some charming neighbours, the Williamsons on one side and a couple of Jewish families with young daughters opposite us. The Williamsons had a ten year old son called Paul who was mischief incarnate and one morning we woke up to find that he had dismantled the entire fence in our front garden. The Williamsons were extremely apologetic and made sure that this was rectified at their expense. Settling up house was an entirely new experience for me and in many ways I quite enjoyed it. I tried my best by running the home as I saw my mother-in-law do at Dipak but of course, she had much more experience in this matter than I did and was far more proficient, but we pulled along somehow. Trying my best to be a good wife, I used to go out first thing in the morning and buy a newspaper and most days if we were not going out make a meal from scratch. It was cumbersome as in an Indian meal so many ingredients were involved and all the tidying and cleaning afterwards was tedious. This is where Mrs. Balbir Singh’s cookery book came in most handy. There was an Indian grocery shop in Golders Green where all the Asians used to shop, it was called Bina Stores and every week we would go down there and buy our provisions as did all the Asian families that lived around Golders Green, Finchley and Hendon.

  Finally, being constantly sick due to my pregnancy and running a home and cooking and doing the errands and chores became overwhelming for me, as I was simply not used to this pace of life. I burst into tears one day and told MJ in no uncertain terms that I was struggling and that I need to go home to my parents and be taken care of for sometime at least during my pregnancy and I would want to have my baby in India as I had no confidence in having a baby in London. I left for India soon after and stayed with my parents in Delhi. By now my father had sold our house on Prithviraj Road to the new buyers who proceeded to knock down the old bungalow and erect a number of condominiums for their family.

  I was much happier being in Delhi with my parents and slowly my morning sickness eased up as well. I elected to have Dr. Ghai as my obstetrician and we decided that the baby would be born at Sharma’s Nursing Home where Dr Ghai was on call. My aunt, Krishna Kumari of Suket, was kind enough to take me for all my various tests and scans; she had the right temperament and was both considerate and practical. On the subject of labour pains, MJ assured me that he had discussed this in detail with his friend William Morris and that William’s mother Patricia had declared that labour pains in fact were no more painful than a bad case of constipation. Well, in fact nothing could be more further from the truth, and they certainly do not call them ‘labour pains’ for no reason!

  When the time drew close to my due date, my father who was a very well-organised man—he thought things out to the minutest detail—and a very thoughtful father too; he was well aware of the fact that there were huge power cuts in the city from time to time and requested the relevant minister his Parliamentary colleague to ensure that there was no power cut during those few days when the baby was likely to be born. The minister was very accommodating and gave the necessary instructions. The nursing home had no air conditioning in the room and he made sure that an air conditioner was taken from the house and fitted into my room to make sure that I was comfortable, which was very kind and thoughtful of him—but that said, he was the kind of man who was always thinking of the comfort and welfare of his family.

  My daughter Anupama Kumari was born on 24 April, 1974. When the little baby was first handed over to me the first thing that struck me was her big eyes: she looked like a frightened little bunny rabbit and ‘Bunny’ then became her nick name. Her actual name Anupama was inspired from an old black and white Hindi film, ‘Anupama,’ starring Sharmila Tagore and Dharmendra, which I saw just days before she was born and it struck me that it was a beautiful name. We had no idea whether it was going to be a boy or a girl but I decided that if we had a baby girl we would name her Anupama.

  Shortly thereafter, it was time to return to London and at the time a baby could be endorsed onto the mother’s passport, though I believe the rules are now different and even babies have to have their own individual passports. My father sent Thakur Dalip Singh with my passport to get the endorsement stamped into it. The bureaucrat took one look at the passport and questioned Dalip Singh and elicited the information that the passport was in fact in my maiden name. He bizarrely declared that since a maid or unmarried girl cannot have a baby he was unable to comply. It was a hilarious situation and after some bantering Dalip Singh finally persuaded him that I was in fact married and it was only a matter of time before I applied for a new passport in my married name and it was perfectly alright for the endorsement of my baby to be done. After some persuasion he complied however, it was a very funny incident and we all had a good laugh at the attitude of the, it was in fact typical Indian bureaucracy at its best!

  I had absolutely no idea how to raise a baby and no book can possibly prepare a first time mother for the joys and problems that lie ahead. I was at least fortunate to have the help of my old ayah Champa nani who agreed to come with me to London and help me with the baby. Young mothers these days are so confident and capable and can look after their homes, careers and raise a family all at the same time; sadly, I was from a different generation and did not have that kind of confidence. I did not even know where to buy baby formula or her nappies. A family friend who lived in London very kindly helped me by pointing out that Boots, the chemist, pretty much provided everything that I could possibly need for my baby. My mother-in-law had also very thoughtfully brought the essentials like a bright yellow bathtub and other accessories that one needed immediately on arrival in London. The rest I am afraid, as is the case with every first born child, was all trial and error.

  Eddie my old governess was in Glasgow then; she was delighted to hear that I now had a daughter and wrote to me on 7 May, 1974:

  ‘What joy to hear the wonderful news of your dear little daughter’s arrival. I was all excitement, so much so that I forgot to affix an Air Mail label on the envelope of the greeting I sent you. Darling, I wish you and Mayur my sincere congratulations, and I can hardly realise that my “Snoocher” (her nick name for me) is a mother now. I wish you both and the little baby
the best of luck in the future. It is a really a relief to know that Champa is coming with you too, there is a lot of tender care and attention that little babies need.’

  How I wished that Eddie could have been there with me at the time, she was full of practical and knowledge and would have been a great comfort to me, but she was too old to start looking after small babies.

  Meanwhile back in India serious and long reaching developments were taking place, the Indian Emergency which lasted from 26 June, 1975 to 21 March, 1977 was a twenty one month period when President Fakhuruddin Ali Ahmed, at the request of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, declared a state of Emergency under Article 352 of the Constitution of India, effectively bestowing on her the power to rule by decree, suspending elections and civil liberties. It is without doubt one of the most dark and controversial times in the history of independent India.

  Indira Gandhi, when she was elected to lead the Congress party, was famously described as a ‘gungi gudiya’ (dumb doll) by the member of the Opposition Ram Manohar Lohia, implying that she was a mere ‘puppet’, clearly not capable of the job to which she had been elected. She would go on to prove both to the Opposition as well as to the entire country that she was anything but ‘gungi’. The moment Indira Gandhi was confronted with a judgement from the Supreme Court that was not to her liking she immediately used her powers in Parliament to pass amendments to the Constitution. In the instance of the Golaknath case, the Supreme Court ruled that the Constitution could not be changed by Parliament if it affected basic issues such as fundamental rights. Mrs. Gandhi immediately passed the 24 Amendment Act in 1971. Similarly, in the matter of the Princes and the privy purses, when the court ruled against her, she passed the 26 Amendment Act, nullifying the order of the Supreme Court.

  Mrs. Gandhi promoted Justice AN Ray to the post of Chief Justice of India, over and above three more senior judges who then subsequently resigned. This was met with vociferous criticism by Jaiprakash Narayan. Meanwhile, Raj Narain, one of Mrs. Gandhi’s most vocal critics who had lost the election against her, lodged cases of election fraud and misuse of state machinery against her in the Allahabad High Court. It was the first time that an Indian Prime Minister had to appear in court and be cross examined by Raj Narain’s lawyer Shanti Bhushan. On 12 June, 1975, the Court ruled against Mrs. Gandhi on charges of misuse of government machinery during her election campaign, declared her election null and void and unseated her from the Lok Sabha and banned her from contesting any further elections for a period of six years. This ruling became the primary reason for the imposition of Emergency by Mrs. Gandhi. The Prime Minster approached the Supreme Court on this particular judgement but found her way blocked here too, as the Supreme Court upheld the Allahabad judgement and ordered that all benefits of a Member of Parliament be stopped but that she could continue to be Prime Minister, which was a contradiction in terms.

  Meanwhile, in June 1975, Jaiprakash Narayan called a large rally in Delhi and called upon the police to reject any orders that it was given by the government if they were unethical or immoral. This was regarded as sedition by Mrs. Gandhi and inciting rebellion, she called upon the President to impose an internal emergency and to which President Fakruddin Ali Ahmned agreed. Within a matter of hours, the electricity supply to the major newspapers in Delhi was cut and Jaiprakash Narayan was promptly arrested. The proposal was ratified by the cabinet the very next day.

  A war with Pakistan had recently been concluded and so these actions by the Opposition were viewed by Mrs. Gandhi as a threat to national security. Meanwhile, internally there had been a drought in various parts of the country and the economy was quite precariously balanced. Strikes and protests had brought the country to a complete stand-still, claimed Mrs. Gandhi. She was advised by her younger son, Sanjay Gandhi and the Chief Minister of Bengal, Siddharth Shankar Ray to immediately impose ‘internal emergency. ‘The latter drafted a letter for the President to sign. President Fakhuruddin Ali Ahmed, who was appointed to the post of President by Mrs. Gandhi, upon her advice, signed the document which according to her opponents, brought democracy ‘to a grinding halt’. Members of President Ahmed’s family maintain that he warned Mrs. Gandhi several times not to go ahead with the imposition of Emergency and declined twice before he was more or less coerced into signing it by the adamant Prime Minister the third time round

  Subsequently, Mrs. Indira Gandhi, under section 352 of the Indian Constitution, granted herself draconian powers and cracked down in no uncertain terms on her political opponents and their civil liberties. The opposition members of Parliament such as LKAdvani, Rajmata Vijayaraje Scindia, Jaipraksh Narayan, Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Morarji Desai were all rounded up and placed under arrest. Elections for Parliament and state government were postponed indefinitely and since the Congress party had two-thirds majority in Parliament, they were able to rewrite the rules as she wanted.

  Eventually, on 23 January, 1977, Mrs. Gandhi called for fresh elections in March and all the members of the Opposition who had been till now languishing in prison were released. The Janata Party pointed out a stark reality to their constituents that this election may well be their last chance to choose between democracy and dictatorship.

  It was therefore hardly surprising, that in view of what had transpired these months, both Mrs. Gandhi and her son Sanjay lost the elections, as did most of their inner and trusted circle. The Janata party won two hundred and ninety eight seats and with some support from its allies they were able to form the Government and shortly thereafter Morarji Desai was elected to the post of Prime Minster.

  The Emergency lasted some twenty months and left behind a very bitter and controversial legacy. Quite predictably, the Indian princes came under the scrutiny of Mrs. Gandhi as most of them were members of the Opposition, including my father who was an independent Member of Parliament at the time. News reached us that there had been a raid on Rajmata Gayatri Devi of Jaipur’s residence. We were further appalled when we were informed that she together with her son Maharaja Bhawani Singh, popularly known as ‘Bubbles’ had been arrested on some trumped up charge.

  Rajmata Gayatri Devi was a vociferous opponent of Mrs. Gandhi and won all her elections most decisively and with large majorities that, I believe, she still may hold the record for the largest election margin even today. Maharaja Bhawani Singh was a war hero; he had been inactive service in the Indo-Pakistan war and was decorated for his valour and bravery. We were further shocked to hear that the much respected Rajmata Vijayaraje Scindia of Gwalior had also been arrested. Both these noble ladies who had until now lived lives of privilege were housed in Tihar jail, sharing their cells with criminals and prostitutes.

  We were quite naturally worried about what might happen to my father under the circumstances, as he too was a vocal opponent of Mrs. Gandhi. We were warned that arrest was imminent, and one evening when I was staying with my parents at Shantineketan and we were returning from a late night film and were taken aback to see a couple of jeeps standing in front of the house in which there were a number of policemen all dressed in khaki. ‘Tonight seems to be the night then,’ said my father quite calmly. We were all extremely dispirited and stressed and waited all night for the inevitable to happen, but nothing happened—the police drove away after a while and fortunately we did not have to see the indignity of my father being arrested. The next day I told my father, ‘Dad, it’s probably the gift of the grouse you used to send Mrs. Gandhi every winter and which she relished that kept you out of jail.’

  Many of my friends in years to come praised the Emergency: ‘... there were no beggars on the streets,’ they said ‘and the city was cleaned up properly...’ which was quite, unbelievable. I could not help but remark that that was a very small price for giving up one’s precious civil liberties and compromising the freedom of the press. As Malvika Singh writes in her book, ‘Perpetual City’:

  ‘A tension the like of which Delhi had not experienced for decades had begun to suffocate the city and its cit
izens.’

  Even today over forty years later, the very mention of the word ‘Emergency’ evokes very dark and unpleasant memories.

  My father and mother were in London for the summer visiting MJ and me at the time when the Emergency was declared. In the biography of my father, Dr. Rima Hooja writes:

  ‘The Emergency came as a great shock to him: though he felt that the country was not going in the right direction, he was astounded with the rapidity which Mrs. Gandhi followed the Allahabad High Court decision. The news of the emergency was given to him on 26th June by Kanti Bhai Desai, the son of Morarji Desai, who also told him of the arrest of many of the members of the opposition.’ Hesaid, ‘I knew that we were walking a lonely path, the motivation was strictly personal, coming as it did on the heels of the judgement.’ ...‘Sitting in England, as Karni Singh took in the news, he came to the conclusion that that the Emergency was a desperate step. He felt ashamed that such a thing had happened in Nehru’s India; in Mahatma Gandhi’s India; and he was deeply ashamed that such a step had been taken by the daughter of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru.’

  Although my father was receiving Indian newspapers, there was not much news coming through because of the strict censorship which was viewed very adversely in Britain. Ironically, the only source of impartial news was the BBC. On his return to India my father was not surprised to find that though the airport was functioning more efficiently, there was fear in the air, which was reflected in the eyes of the people working there, it seemed that no one was ready to make eye contact. Once he had the chance to go to the Parliament he found that the sense of unease had permeated the corridors of the Lok Sabha. Dr Hooja continues: