or the Japanese Embassy. We were exhausted, physically and mentally, and wanted to lie low for the time being. But, amid the new-fangled politics of the new order, we knew it would be difficult.
Looking back at those embarrasing days and weeks of suspense and anxiety, the most unbearable factor was the gnawing feeling of "not belonging"—to the society in which one existed, or any society, for that matter. It was shocking to realize how unpopular, how helpless I had suddenly become—and, that in Bangkok where, I imagined, I was somebody. And then, one day, equally suddenly, I found myself swimming in Indian Independence League politics!
The first phase of the war was almost over by that time. Life was fairly normal in Thailand but reports from Malaya and other parts of Southeast Asia were hardly reassuring. The Japanese military administration in these former colonial territories was a quaint combination of absurd reforms and ruthless tyranny. Probably, the exigencies of the war were partly responsible for it. But millions of people had already become disillusioned with the new order and the promised haven of Asia for Asians. The military regime was so stern, however, that everybody soon learned to value his head and became a loyal subject of the Tenno heika (Emperor) and an obedient servant of the Japanese war machine.
If someone suddenly set up a small wooden board, with something written in Japanese on it, at the gate of your house, you realized immediately that the place was needed for the use of the army, either for the residence of some officer or for operating a consolation camp, and you quit promptly, bag and baggage, and thus contributed your share to the victory campaign. If you happened to be taking a stroll and saw some Japanese soldiers unloading cases of ammunition from a fleet of lorries, you just rolled up your sleeves and helped the war effort. If you tried to walk away, you would not get far; you would be lying on the road with a bleeding bayonet wound in your back.
The Japanese military administration had introduced a series of reforms. All the clocks in Southeast Asia showed nothing but Tokyo time, which meant that the people got up at 4:00 in the morning, got to their place of work at 6:00, took their dinner at 4 p.m., and went to bed before 6:30 in the evening. Many people began to complain that meeting Nippon-jin always gave them a pain in the neck, as they had to bow before every one of them, and there were special orders specifying just how many degrees one should bend his back, to comply with the proper standard of the new order etiquette.
The new order, however, brought its crop of small mercies. Most of the people who formerly worked in British Government offices were able to get back to their jobs, though under a system of reduced pay. Those who picked up a smattering of Japanese went high up, while those who acted as agents and informers fared even better. The military administration tried to out-British the British in the tactics of "divide and rule," handling all matters on a communal basis—Malays, Chinese, Indians, Eurasians, and others, each under a leader chosen by the military chiefs. Those who spoke English in the streets were looked upon with distinct disfavor, suspected of being enemy agents and accused of undermining the morale of the public. Down went most of the signboards in English and those in Japanese took their place. Bars, restaurants, hotels, and dance halls were named Tokyo, Osaka, Kobe, and Sakura. Those who were unemployed, or suspected of being troublesome, were promptly rounded up and carted off to work on the strategic highways and railways which the Japanese had started building between Thailand and Burma.
Throughout Southeast Asia, the Indian Independence League was recognized by the Japanese military authorities as a branch of essential war service. League membership was supposed to assure your identity as a non-enemy subject, while active work for the League ensured some safety from the prying eyes of the Japanese military police.
Malaya was the nerve center of the Indian independence movement. League branches were established in most of the towns and many prominent Indians had joined the movement. While the civilian side of the organization grew fast, Mohan Singh and his followers were busy with the task of organizing the Indian National Army. In three months, about 12,000 Indian prisoners of war, out of nearly 80,000 who surrendered to the Japanese in Malaya, had joined the Indian National Army. The rest seemed undecided and stayed on in the prison camps.
The League organization was gaining popular acceptance in Thailand, too. After the death of Swami Satyananda Puri, in the air crash before the Tokyo conference of Indian leaders, the Indian National Council was taken over by one Mr. Debnath Das. He had arrived in Bangkok a few months before the outbreak of the war from Kobe where he was an employee of an Indian firm. He had been associated with Satyananda Puri in the work of the Thai-Bharat Cultural Lodge and was popular with the Japanese authorities.
The Indian independence movement in Burma had not made any significant progress. Rangoon had set up a League branch but the task of pacification had not yet been concluded in the interior. Besides, many of the more prominent Indians had left Burma and the Japanese found it difficult to locate acceptable leaders. In other occupied territories, Java, Borneo, Sumatra, the Philippines, and Hongkong, the Japanese military authorities were busy picking up suitable leaders of the Indian communities.
Indian leaders in Malaya were persistent in the demand that the Independence League, with its unorthodox origin, should be placed on a legal and constitutional basis, before it could command the respect and confidence of the people. This, they urged, was also important in the context of the struggle for independence inside India and overseas Indians wished to ensure that any movement they launched with Japanese assistance would not conflict with the policy and program of the Indian National Congress. The Japanese military authorities discussed the problem with Rash Behari Bose in Tokyo and it was decided to set up the headquarters of the Indian Independence League in Bangkok and to organize a conference of Indian representatives from all the territories in eastern and southeastern Asia.
Rash Behari landed in Bangkok early in June (1942) with A. M. Nair and a few other Indians from Japan. Among them was A. M. Sahay, a long-time resident of Kobe, who styled himself President of the Indian National Congress of Japan. Rash Behari held a press conference, to which I was invited. He had known me before and I happened to know the journalist crowd in the city. One of the decisions, announced at the press conference, was to set up a "preparatory committee" to organize the big conference of Indians in East Asia. The next day, I received an official letter from Rash Behari, appointing me as Secretary of this preparatory committee. And Debnath Das followed up the move by selecting me as a member of the Thailand delegation to the proposed conference.
The uneasy period of hibernation had ended, as suddenly as it began. I joined the movement, with my eyes wide open, and after a sober assessment of the prospects. There was adventure aplenty ahead of me, a trifle dangerous no doubt, but if all went well, there was a chance that I might be serving my country. Or, for all my excitement and craze for adventure, I was probably a coward at heart. I hated the peculiar penance I was going through. I was tired of the self-condemned role of the unwanted character. And I feared the painless operation of the samurai sword. The result was that I steeled my heart to see the game through, in spite of the risks involved, and to strive hard for survival.
Rash Behari Bose was no professional politician but he was gifted with a great deal of political common sense. Thirty years of exile from India had mellowed the fiery terrorist that Rash Behari had been. But the energy and pluck of the old war horse were remarkable.
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