‘The atmosphere in Parliament was sullen and fear-ridden, and the Congress members walked about quietly. The kind of India that he saw during the twenty months of emergency made him feel as if he was sinking in a quagmire that threatened the very fabric of his being.’ ‘... The opposition was virtually cowed down and we received all kinds of threats. In fact, I was told that the Minister for Parliamentary Affairs had informed some opposition members that if anyone became too vociferous he would be ‘taken care of.’ “I have always regarded the Emergency period (1975-77) as the worst in so far as suppression of civil liberties and freedom of expression were concerned.”
Decades later, when I recently had the privilege of meeting with the veteran BJP politician LKAdvani, the subject of the Emergency came up during our conversation. I spoke to him about how difficult he must have found being confined in jail during the trying time. He merely smiled disarmingly and said it gave him some respite to write his books in peace.
When Parliament reassembled, my father along with some other members of the Opposition decided not to participate in any of the ongoing deliberations. They were not going to support dictatorial policies. When the 42nd Constitutional Amendment came up, the Opposition was told in no uncertain terms that their absence would be noticed. He was urged by well-meaning friends to attend and vote for the bill but he refused, as he could not condone action which was bad for the country, and although hardly any of the Opposition attended, the motion was nevertheless carried.
In his autobiography K. Natwar Singh who was very closely linked to Mrs. Gandhi’s regime writes of the Emergency:
‘Even after four decades, the memory of the Emergency survives. All those above the age of fifty remember those turbulent months with trepidation. The Emergency made a permanent dent on Indira Gandhi’s reputation. And while I know that she regretted it, she had no one to blame but herself. She had once even claimed that the reason for declaring the Emergency was a conspiracy to overthrow the government. To this date, no proof has come up of any such conspiracy.’
The fallout of the Emergency on the Indian princes came in another form, when in Bikaner the Government acquired our family estate of Gajner. The take-over was not wholly unexpected since; lands belonging to former princes were being acquired all over the country by the government simultaneously. We got a notice from the District Collector saying that under the Land Acquisition Act (which the government had brought in retrospectively by thirteen years) Gajner was to be taken over. Gajner Estate had never been agricultural at any point of time and the said Act clearly stated that this did not apply to fenced land. The fact is that the entire Estate was fully fenced from the time of Maharaja Ganga Singh. The land was not used for agricultural purposes in any way and this was quite clearly politically motivated move to harass my father by acquiring his favourite ancestral property.
Inevitably, litigation followed and eventually the main place, gardens and the immediate area around the walled enclosure known as the Sports Complex was handed back to my father. It was a victory of sorts, but the vast amount of lands lying outside the sports complex still stand acquired and are subject to litigation at present with the Forest Department. Tactics of this sort were adopted by Mrs. Indira Gandhi and the Congress across the country with the lands of most princes as they were in the Opposition and this was her way of punishing them. My father was lucky that he escaped being imprisoned but losing Gajner, albeit briefly, was just as bad.
The senior journalist Tavleen Singh in her book ‘Durbar’ writes of the aftermath of the Emergency:
‘The Janata government seemed to develop an unhealthy obsession with imported beverages. After news of the Prime Minister’s (Morarji Desai) urine drinking and the imposition of Prohibition in Delhi news came that Coca-Cola was going to be thrown out of India. For this last policy change in the beverage department we had the minister of industry George Fernandes to thank’.
The Coca Cola ban as far as my father was concerned, was the absolute limit. A teetotaller all his life, he was addicted to the American beverage and it seemed to him that not only were his civil liberties curtailed, but also that he was soon to be deprived of his favourite beverage as well. In an absolute panic, he asked Thakur Dalip Singh find out if any of the suppliers in Rajasthan had a hidden stock: this finally yielded a cache of Coca Cola in Jaiselmer, of all places. They it seems had several hundred bottles in stock—my father bought them all on the spot of course, and they were dispatched soon after to Bikaner by truck.
Not only were drinks such as Coke banned but there were also restrictions on foreign movies being shown in India. Indira Gandhi was aligning herself to the Russians who were only too eager to show her support at a time when the Americans were perceived to be hostile ever since the Bangladesh War. The United States had more openly supported Pakistan at the time. It was awful for us: as a family we all loved going to the cinema and were pretty much used to going to see all the new films that came around -both foreign and Indian- therefore, to be suddenly deprived of all the new Hollywood movies was unbearable. Russian movies however, were allowed to be freely shown across the country. Their quality both for production and presentation left for a lot to be desired. I recall going to see the Russian version of Anna Karenina, which was not only dubbed in questionable English, but the supposedly beauteous Anna also sported a resplendent moustache!
My grandfather, Maharaja Sadul Singh was a childhood friend of Lord Louis Mountbatten. I believe they met when they were teenagers and remained lifelong friends. Lord Mountbatten played a vital role in the history of Bikaner at the time of partition in ensuring that the Shivpur headworks of the Gang Canal were retained within Indian Territory. At the time it seemed very likely that Shivpur would be given to Pakistan, as Bikaner was a border state and my grandfather had opted to remain in India. The State of Bahawalpur had already expressed a desire to have the canal headworks handed over to them and there was every likelihood that they would not be very generous when it came to sharing the water with Bikaner State. Water was absolutely crucial to our desert state of Bikaner.
When an old friend of grandfather’s, Ramsay Brown, came to retire and was about to leave for England, he paid a farewell visit to my grandfather in Bikaner. During the course of the conversation my grandfather expressed his deep distress at the possibility of losing the headworks at Shivpur: ‘I cannot deprive my people of the precious gift of water,’ he had told Ramsay Brown, ‘If they give the headworks to Pakistan then I will have to rethink my policy about remaining in India.’ However, this extreme step was not needed as grandfather decided to tackle the matter on a personal basis with Lord Mountbatten. One day he told his aide, Captain Narain Singh, to get his private aircraft ready to fly him to Delhi. Captain Narian Singh asked him if he should call the staff at Bikaner House in Delhi and order them to make preparations of his stay, but he was told that that would not be necessary as he would be returning back to Bikaner that very evening. A phone call was made to the Viceroy’s House in Delhi, ‘Tell Dicky that his friend Hiru wants to meet with him, ‘thus setting the tone of the meeting at a friendly and informal level, just two childhood friends meeting for a chat.
My grandfather flew to Delhi where he was granted an immediate audience with Lord Mountbatten. What transpired between them will always remain a mystery as there was no one present to record the contents of the meeting. Cyril Radcliffe was busy at the time drawing up the two borders for partition on the east and west of united India. However, the result was that soon after, the Shivpur headworks were awarded to India, much to the irritation of Bhawalpur, a state in what would soon be Pakistan. Lord Mountbatten continued to maintain a cordial relationship with my parents even after the demise of my grandfather in 1950.
I found several old files among grandfather’s documents a while back a couple were of some interest to me in that they contained personal correspondence between grandfather and Dickie Mountbatten not in their professional capacity but simply as two old childho
od friends who referred to each other simply as Hiru and Dickie. Most of the letters exchanged between them at the time dealt with various shoots that they attended Mountbatten shooting grouse in Scotland and grandfather either on safari in East Africa or at the reserve of a brother prince in India.
What was more interesting was that Mountbatten was just about to get married to Edwina and grandfather wanted to gift them a carpet from Bikaner, carpets and dhurries made in the Bikaner jail at the time were much sought after. On the 17 June, 1922, grandfather wrote to Mountbatten gently teasing him about his forthcoming nuptials and keeping the fact hidden from his close friends ‘I hope I am not too late in sending you my hearty and warmest congratulations and good wishes on your wedding, which I believe comes off sometime next month; though knowing each other as we do you had not the decency to let me know exactly when!! But I won’t take it as your fault. I have heard of many people losing their heads on their wedding and some very silly mistakes being committed by them. I have even heard of a man who forgot his wedding day completely and while his bride and guests were waiting for him at the church he was enjoying himself shooting pheasants; and I think you are no exception to the rule!’ and after this gentle chiding he ends with a hearty ‘Well, good-bye old boy and again wishing you the best of luck’ grandfather then offers to send Mountbatten several lengths of turbans or safas as they are called in Rajasthan and a carpet made in Bikaner jail as a wedding gift.
On the 2 March, 1923, Mountbatten wrote to grandfather ‘Thank you very much for your letter and for ordering the carpet, which sounds as though it will be lovely. Your father (Maharaja Ganga Singh) explained to us what the lamp pattern on the blue ground looks like and this is exactly what we wanted. Thank you very much indeed. We also had dinner with your father and afterwards went to a most amusing and vulgar play!’
The wedding gift finally arrived at its destination sometime around Christmas 1923 and Mountbatten thanks grandfather for his thoughtful gesture. “I got leave to go to London for the first time (he was serving in the Royal Navy at the time) in 3 months and there discovered the lovely carpet which you so kindly had made for us as a wedding present and I hasten now that I have actually seen it to renew my thanks and express my great admiration both for the carpet and your excellent choice of colour and pattern. Edwina is even more pleased if possible as women always take a closer interest in furniture etc.’
My father continued the friendship between the two families as did many former Indian princes most of whom visited London in the summer months and were sure to receive an invitation to Broadlands the country Estate of Lord Mountbatten. It is said that in fact one prominent Maharaja who had been invited to dinner at Broadlands suffered a fatal heart attack while he was sitting at the table which must have been a terrible shock to all concerned. An elderly and avuncular man by the time we got married in 1973 Lord Mountbatten continued to maintain ties with us the next generation of his old friend ‘Hiru Bikaner’.
Soon after we had shifted to our little home in Edgware I received a letter from Lord Mountbatten dated 12 June, 1973, in which he invited my parents and us to come and spend the weekend with him at his Country estate, Broadlands in Hampshire:
‘Ayesha Jaipur (Rajmata Gayatri Devi) was staying with me for the night at Broadlands and told me that your parents were coming over to London to visit you from the 28th June to the 17th July. I have written at once to your father to ask him if he and your mother and you and your husband could all four come and visit me at Broadlands. I enclose a copy of my letter to them and am hoping to be able to get an answer fairly quickly.’
My parents accepted the invitation and we hired a car for the day to drive us to Romsey. My father, I think, was really a boy scout at heart and believed in the motto ‘always be prepared.’ He had therefore requested the Westbury hotel kitchens to make us all a batch of sandwiches just in case hunger was to strike us unexpectedly. On our arrival at Broadlands, I was a bit taken aback to see that all the guests that had been invited were extremely elderly which was hardly surprising since they were all friends of Lord Mountbatten who was quite senior in age by this time- there was not a single person in my husband and my age group. Lord Mountbatten was wearing lovely black velvet slippers with his family crest embroidered on them in gold thread. It was the custom at Broadlands to ask all important guests to plant a tree on the estate and he very kindly asked my mother to plant a tree and told her that he would be placing a plaque on it with her name when it was mature.
Mountbatten was connected through both his father and mother to just about every Royal house of Europe and England and it seemed that he delighted in telling us about his connections with the Russian Czar and Queen Victoria. In fact, he dropped names and titles with each step that he took while he gave us a guided tour of his beautiful home at Broadlands. We were then permitted some time off to prepare for dinner. I was a bit alarmed when the butler took us upstairs and showed us to four separate rooms. I imagine this must have been the custom when in olden times the lady had her own private maid to help her get dressed and equally, her husband had his own valet. Times had changed and I had no personal maid to assist me: eventually all four of us collected in one room and prepared for dinner.
Not being used to the etiquette at country homes of the grand and famous, I was unaware of the fact that we would be called upon to change several times a day. I completely forgot to pack an extra sari for the evening and when we all trouped down to dinner; Lord Mountbatten gave me a disapproving look and commented, ‘So, you did not change for dinner.’ I gave him my best shy smile and some frivolous excuse, which I doubt he believed. Thankfully, we have never been invited to stay at one of the Queen’s palaces as those that have, claim that they have to change several times during the course of a day. I was seated next to two unbelievably dull guests who had been posted in India during the days of the Raj and quite naturally their conversation consisted of their memories of India, which were now quite dated and it became a struggle to keep the conversation going during the dinner.
What amazed me even more than the dull guests were the meagre portions of food that we were served. I am normally a light eater but I definitely left the table hungry that evening. After dinner, the entertainment was in the form of the movie ‘Cabaret’ with Liza Minelli. The movie was just as slow and dull as his guests and soon after it had started, both Lord Mountbatten and most of his elderly guests were all sound asleep. We had decided not to stay the night and elected to leave after the screening of the film. We left for home after the movie thanking our host most profusely for the delightful evening. No sooner had we driven out of the gates, we asked the driver to stop and begged my father to bring out the sandwiches he had so thoughtfully brought and ate them voraciously as we were all starving.
After our visit, my father said I should request Lord Mountbatten for a photograph. It was the custom in those days for friends and dignitaries to exchange autographed photographs and the palace in Bikaner is full to the rafters with them. On 19 July, 1973, Lord Mountbatten wrote to me to say:
‘Your father said you would like to have a photograph of me so I am sending you one of my own frames with my best wishes to you. You are the fourth generation of your family whom I have known and I first met your great-grandfather in 1907 staying with my uncle, the Grand Duke of Hesse, and I stayed with him in Lallgarh when I was on the staff of the Prince of Wales in 1021. I also knew your grandfather as a small boy of five in 1907 and remained a lifelong friend of his. It is nice that the friendship between our families is continuing.’
As promised in due course a framed and signed photograph of Lord Mountbatten the last Viceroy of India was delivered to my house.
Claude Morris and his American wife Patricia and their three children William, Anne and Margaret were very close friends of my husband and at the time they lived in Vincent Square in London. William and MJ had been in college together and they were all very pleasant and friendly and welcomed me into their fa
mily. The Morrises always had an open house through which the friends of their respective children and office staff came and went freely, everyone was made welcome and hardly ever left their home without a hearty meal. Both MJ and William held very strong pro-Arab views—in fact, Mr. Morris ran a newspaper called ‘Voice of the Arab World’ in which there was the inevitable pro-Arab and anti-Israeli propaganda. William also worked with his father and there were always a heavy Arab influence in both their homes and their conversation. MJ had also written articles for their paper several times and we had quite heated arguments in the early days of our marriage as I was quite sympathetic of the Israelis’ cause, particularly in light of what had happened at the Munich Olympics and he of course, felt very strongly about the Palestinian cause. In the early days of our marriage after we had moved to Edgware we often went down to Leicester square where we would all meet up and go bowling. William much to my surprise, took to the Indian ‘bidi’ with great enthusiasm and each trip that we made to India, we were asked to bring back a healthy batch for him which he seemed to consume with great speed and relish.
Mrs. Morris was a Christian scientist and believed that a healthy body did not need medication and in most cases it healed itself. I did not subscribe to her views as it was she who had convinced my husband that having labour pains was the same as being mildly constipated. We had fairly lively discussions about many different subjects none of which ended in agreement. She did not believe in reincarnation and firmly rejected the idea that animals had souls; I have to admit I am not entirely convinced on the theory of reincarnation but I do believe that animals have souls: they are more caring, devoted and intelligent than most people and I am convinced that they have a soul even though the Bible says they do not. Thus I ‘agreed to disagree’ as my father used to say.
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