Lets Kill Gandhi

by Gandhi, Tushar A.

  Since India was being divided in two, Gandhi remarked during his prayer meeting on 10 July, they had to consider their conduct accordingly. Unfortunately, it had become the fashion to behave like they were enemies. There were allegations that, in 1944, he had 'danced in attendance' on Jinnah for eighteen days and the Muslim League was now reaping the fruits. Gandhi challenged this aspersion. He had made an offer to Jinnah, he said, which was in the interest of all concerned. If Jinnah had accepted his offer, he could have been a master in what could have been called 'Pakistan areas'. But they would have had one India before the whole world, without any fear of domination by a third party. But instead, everyone was now baying for the other's blood. He could sense no independence in that barbarous state. He could not be enthusiastic about the impending independence unless things changed during the next thirty-five days.

  Why could they not, he asked, reverting to the theme a few days later, remain united for the object of facing foreign aggression? The present mode of division might well lead to internal warfare between the two armies who might even look upon each other as rivals. That would be a tragedy too deep. For years they had said that they did not want any army. He still stood by that statement, but others did not. A new generation had arisen. Congressmen were not bound by what they had done during India's bondage. No blame could be imputed to them for the change. Almost every province wanted military assistance. There was a danger of a military dictatorship being established. Was this freedom?—he asked. This last warning proved true in the case Pakistan, which for a majority of its years as a nation has been subject to the rule of generals.

  As 15 August drew near, Gandhi noted with growing apprehension the portents that were gathering on the horizon. Vivisection of the country was the price that India had paid to avoid chaos and anarchy. But from the look of things, India after partition was heading for a worse time. Jinnah had once again promised complete freedom of faith, religious worship and full security of life and property to all minorities in Pakistan. But there was a wide chasm between what was professed and what was practiced. In Sind, non-Muslims were leaving their homes and fleeing with whatever they could carry on their person. In the meanwhile, nationalist Muslims were being warned by prominent Leaguers that, after Pakistan was established, they would be tried and hanged. Mountbatten had been able to incorporate in a Partition Council statement, a solemn assurance by both parties a guarantee of civil rights for minorities and former political opponents. But guarantees for the future that were belied by present performance had absolutely no value for Gandhi. He felt deeply worried at the complacency with which those concerned seemed to regard repeated, flagrant violations of solemn guarantees, while they deceived themselves with the hope that ultimately there would be peace. He knew how inexorable was the working of the moral law and how inevitable the penalty when that law is trifled with. He was increasingly apprehensive by the growing tide of counter communalism that was being bred in the Indian Union by the continued ill treatment of minorities on the other side. He was aware that, in some sections of Hindu society, the creed of revenge was firmly rooted, especially in some of the upper castes who were under the spell of Savarkar and his Hindu Mahasabha, as well as those who believed in religious segregation and Hindu supremacy as espoused by the RSS. However, he was aware that these organisations appealed to a small percentage of the population. For more than thirty years he had been able to keep the nation together; but the division of the country was rapidly severing the fragile threads of unity that he had woven.

  Around this time Arthur Moore, a former editor of the Statesman, met Gandhi. They had met earlier in 1924, when Gandhi had undertaken a twenty-one day fast for Hindu-Muslim unity, in New Delhi. Moore had then termed the method of fasting as a moral weapon for change as a 'complete failure'. He still had his doubts about its efficacy. 'It does not look like a success so far,' Gandhi said, referring to the 1924 fast, and added, perhaps as an expression of hope rather than an affirmation of faith, 'but there must be some result'. Moore thought Patel's attitude was bellicose, but Gandhi corrected him. 'You do not know the Sardar,' he said. 'He is not vindictive or communal. But he does not share my belief that non-violence can conquer everything. He used to be a whole-hogger once. He is so no more.'

  'The Sardar is the most popular leader. Perhaps that explains it,' Moore said.

  'No,' Gandhi replied, 'the Sardar is the strong man. He will not let any difficulty baffle him. That is the explanation.'

  It has been alleged by some that Gandhi was a dictator who forced his will on the Congress, and in turn the whole country. But history reveals otherwise. During the Non-cooperation Movement in the twenties, a group of Congress leaders had broken away to form a Swarajist group under the leadership of Deshbandhu C.R. Das. This group felt they should carry out their non-cooperation movement from within, by joining the Councils. A fanatical 'no-changer' had urged Gandhi to revive disobedience to punish the Swarajists. Gandhi refused; though he did not approve of their programme, he preferred to fight the government rather than the Swarajists. In 1940, when the Congress declared that if the British government accepted their terms, it would join the war on the side of the Allies, Gandhi refused to object. He allowed his colleagues to follow their own judgement, although he told them that he felt they were wrong. The reason he gave for following this course was significant: 'I had produced a draft resolution which almost all thought was the best, if they could bring to bear a living belief in non-violence through and through, or if they could truthfully say that such was the belief of their constituencies. Some had neither and some had individually the required faith. Rajaji was as certain of his position as I was of mine. I could not carry the Committee with me. I at once saw as clear as daylight that, if my position was not acceptable, Rajaji's was the only real alternative.'

  The second cause for the myth is Gandhi's insistence on the removal of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose as the Congress president, after he was elected by the party delegates at the Haripura Session. However, almost all the leaders of the CWC were against Bose. Right through his first spell as the president of the Congress, Bose was opposed by Patel and Jawaharlal Nehru. Patel had launched an open non-cooperation movement against Bose as he disapproved of the latter's socialist ideology. Nehru perhaps sensed a challenge to his position as the leader of the younger generation of Congressmen, and left no stone unturned to weaken Bose's power in the party. Gandhi did not approve of Bose's methods to fight the British; also, knowing how the other leaders felt, he sensed that, if Bose were to continue as president, the party would disintegrate and with it the unity that was a strength of Gandhi's non-violent fight for freedom. Gandhi therefore made his displeasure known and asked for Bose's resignation. It was after this, that the other disgruntled leaders went into overdrive and ensured the nomination of an alternative president and forced Bose out of the Congress. Gandhi was not a person who indulged in political intrigue and conspiracies: if he was opposed to an action, philosophy or person, he publicly voiced his displeasure. He did not carry grudges either; after severely criticising a person he would be seen laughing and joking with him or her the very next minute. This was true of his relationship with Bose as well. Even after the latter had quit the Congress and formed the Forward Bloc, they remained friends and had immense respect and affection for each other. Gandhi was the first to address Bose as 'Netaji'. Bose, on the other hand, in his address to the Indian nation from Rangoon, for the first time publicly referred to Gandhi as the 'Father of the Indian Nation'.

  During the Simla Conference in 1945, Gandhi was asked by Preston Grover of the Associated Press of America, why he had not asserted himself against his colleagues when, despite his advice, they accepted the 'parity formula'. Everyone—Jinnah, Lord Wavell, the country in general and all the observers at the conference—looked upon Gandhi as the head of the Congress regardless of the technicality that he was not a member, Grover said. No settlement would be reached without his consent. 'That is both right a
nd wrong,' Gandhi replied. 'That impression has been created because generally my advice is accepted. But technically and substantially it is wrong.'

  Grover insisted that Gandhi's was the controlling voice in the Congress to which Gandhi replied, 'Not even that. They can shut me out at any time. If I tried to override them, I might succeed for once. But the moment I try to cling to power I fall, never to rise again. That is not my temperament.'

  Finally, at the time of the Cabinet Mission negotiations in June 1946, not only did Gandhi not force the Congress leaders to follow his 'instinct'—which was against the acceptance of the Cabinet Mission Plan—but also insisted that, unless what he told them appealed to their head and heart, the only right thing for them was to follow their own judgement.

  If the British had dared to impose the division of India without the approval of the Indian parties, Gandhi—even if all alone—would have fought against it. But the League, as well as the Hindu supremacist parties headed by Savarkar had already endorsed the two-nation theory. Thus at the time of the agreement to divide India, Gandhi stood alone. Overriding the Congress' decision may not have ultimately prevented partition, and he would have certainly destroyed their political credibility. As a result, the country, looking for astute leadership, would have been faced with a vacuum, the kind Pakistan faced after Jinnah's death.

  Meanwhile, some members of the Muslim League made it known that they were not content with the version of Pakistan that had come into existence. They vowed that they would not rest till they secured Delhi, Agra, Ajmer and Aligarh, the most important seats of Muslim culture in India, for Pakistan. Before partition the League's slogan had been 'Ladhke lenge Pakistan', 'We will take Pakistan by fighting'; this was now modified to 'Hanske liya hai Pakistan, ladhke lenge Hindustan', 'We have taken Pakistan with a smile, we will take Hindustan with a fight'. These acts were meant to instigate Hindus, and the Congress succumbed. Since Pakistan was to be an Islamic state, some leaders said, why shouldn't the Indian Union be declared a Hindu nation? The Muslims who, by their very act of not aligning with Pakistan or the Muslim League's political agenda, had proved their loyalty to India, were now being eyed with suspicion and branded as traitors. At one stage, even a leader of Patel's calibre had harboured doubts about the loyalty of the Muslims who had stayed back in India. Gandhi, however, said that no matter what events unfurled, the Congress government could not discriminate against anyone on the grounds of religion. He likened the situation to the tragic life of his eldest son Harilal. 'My eldest son has often come to me saying, "I will be good in future, I will not touch wine". I tell him, "Though I do not trust you, I shall give you a chance". He has not been able to keep his word so far. Yet, if he comes again, I will not turn him out, and I shall hope that he will keep his word, until I know that he has come back only to deceive me. We must trust the Muslims in the same way and at the same time be vigilant.'

  Although publicly he did not show the deep hurt he felt about the division of his country and the rejection by his former proteges, the isolation he felt was very apparent in letters he wrote to his colleagues. 'Freedom has come but it leaves me cold,' he wrote to Asaf Ali, the newly appointed Indian ambassador to the United States, in the third week of July. 'So far as I can see, I am a back number. I have come to the conclusion that our way was non-violent only superficially, our hearts were violent. It was enough to displace the foreign power. But the violence nursed within has broken out in a way least expected. Heaven knows where it will lead us'. To another co-worker he wrote, 'Where is swaraj? The British are going but what is there in it to get excited about?'

  'I almost despair of seeing peace in my lifetime,' he wrote to Sushila, his daughter-in-law. 'What is going on in the country in connection with the transfer of power and Pakistan is putting a heavy strain on me. I have, therefore, lost confidence in my capacity to live for long.' His frequent references to a lack of desire on his part, in the existing circumstances, to live long drew a remonstrance from the American interpreter of Gandhian philosophy and non-violence, Richard Gregg, the author of The Power of Non-violence. He said that he read in Gandhi's utterances despondency and a loss of hope. He entreated him to reconsider his attitude. There was far more at stake than present violence in India 'even if this state of affairs should continue for fifteen years'. Replying to this in Harijan, Gandhi said that the statement that he found no place for himself in a society that based itself on violence had nothing to do with a loss of hope; he did not want to harbour the idea of hopelessness. At the same time, he reaffirmed his belief that there could be no place for a man of peace in a society full of strife. 'Yet he may hope by ceaseless striving to make a place for himself. That is exactly the meaning of my statement. I am in that society, though not of it. The statement registers my protest. We may not tell God that if violence, the folly of men, does not stop within a certain time that fits our hopes, we will stop doing our utmost including living as long as we can.'

  Quaker peace activist Carl Heath took up issues with Gandhi and said that his statement was tantamount to a declaration of loss of faith, which was worse even than loss of hope. 'The number of years that you live in this world is not of supreme importance to the multitude of your friends, but it is of supreme importance that you maintain your radiant hope. For hope in the man of faith is the same thing as belief in God. He hopes, not because of any confidence in the working out of human purpose but because of the deep faith in God and the purpose of the Eternal. What I believe has happened to you, dear friend, is a heart sickness due to the pain of communal violence in India and the severance of your country the Muslim League has compelled us all to accept. But all the planning of men are in time. The will of the Eternal Good prevails at the end—for God reigns'.

  'I wholly agree with you,' Gandhi replied, 'that the number of years a person lives in this world is of no consequence whether to him or to the world but even a day spent in true service of mankind is of supreme and only importance'. He further conceded that hope and faith were as often as not synonymous terms. 'Of course God is eternal, evil transitory'. That, however, did not affect the core of his argument. Gandhi maintained that, although his anguish was immense his attitude was not one of despair. His anguish did not betoken a desire to run away from evil. If anything, his anguish was only a measure of his determination to grapple with evil and do or die in the effort. His philosophy of non-violence was being challenged in the altered circumstances. Many questioned the very legitimacy of non-violence, saying 'non-violence has a limited potency and a limited objective, it cannot be employed in the new situation that has arisen'. Gandhi told them that, although they were not aware of it, the law of non-violence was in operation in their midst at that moment.

  Gandhi did not like the path his Congress colleagues seemed to be taking. At the same time he did not want to openly criticise them lest he should embarrass them. In the last week of July, he wrote to Patel: 'I do not like much of what is going on here. That does not mean that you should alter your course, but I do not want it to be said that I was associated with it.... I also feel that Harijan should now be closed. It does not seem to me to be right to give contrary guidance to the country. Think over it at your leisure'. To the manager of Harijan, he wrote: 'Perhaps we may have to decide to close Harijan. My mind rebels against many things that our leaders are doing. Yet I do not feel like actively opposing them. But how can I avoid it if I am running a paper? You do not want to run it without me, nor does the Sardar'.

  Gandhi had mentioned in his letter to Patel that he would like to return to Noakhali, but the Congress leaders wanted him to remain in the capital. With the date for independence fast approaching, the Congress leaders were trying hard to cope with the every day issues of running a country, including the princely states. Although almost all the princely states fell inside the borders of what was to be India after partition, Jinnah nursed ambitions of persuading some of the Muslim rulers and as many others as he could to declare independence and then form un
ions with Pakistan. Many of the princes had accepted that their previous way of life was coming to an end and had more or less accepted the terms offered by the Union of India. Most of them had signed the 'Instrument of Accession' prepared by V.P. Menon, secretary of the state department under Patel. The instrument left the constitutional independence of the states untouched barring three issues—defence, external affairs and communications—which they surrendered to the Union government.

  By the time of independence three princes remained who refused to surrender—Hyderabad, Junagadh and Kashmir. A 'standstill' agreement for one year was signed with Hyderabad in November 1947, the same being made permanent before the end of the year. Junagadh was successfully dealt with some time later by a popular movement against the Nawab's decision to accede to Pakistan. But Kashmir became a bone of contention between India and Pakistan and a festering sore in the body politic of both. 'The more I think over it, the more I feel that as soon as the matter of Kashmir is settled, I should leave Delhi,' Gandhi wrote to Patel on 24 July 1947. Nehru had decided to visit Kashmir in support of the incarcerated pro-democracy leader Sheikh Abdullah whose trial was scheduled to start on the same date. The Maharaja of Kashmir, Hari Singh, warned Nehru that while he was in the Valley he should confine himself to the defence of Sheikh Abdullah. If he participated in any other political activity he would have to 'face the consequences of his actions'. Hari Singh was a Hindu king who ruled over a state with a majority of Muslim subjects. Sheikh Abdullah; leader of the pro-democracy movement, was a Muslim. Hari Singh, in an effort to prolong his sovereignty, was known to have parleyed with the Muslim League as well as the militant Hindu lobby. With the Muslim League his plea was that, as the head of a largely Muslim population he deserved their patronage, while to the Hindu fanatics he appealed to them to rush to the rescue of a beleaguered Hindu king menaced by Muslims.