as one of the most desirable of careers. The vast majority of officials, from members of the Viceroy’s Council, a pseudo-cabinet, to the village postman, were Indian. A select few were members of the ICS.
The British tolerated Indian political organizations, the most influential of which was a party called the Indian National Congress. It stood for Indian independence and claimed to represent all Indians irrespective of creed or class. In reality its following was predominantly Hindu. Mohandas K. Gandhi, the Mahatma or Great Soul, and originator of nonviolent resistance, dominated the Congress party. Jawaharlal Nehru and Mrs. Sarojini Naidu, known abroad for their literary attainments as well as their political activities, were among the secondary figures in the party.
The Muslim League, headed by Mohammed Ali Jinnah, advocated the creation on the subcontinent of an Islamic state to be called Pakistan, in which the Muslims would be free of what they regarded as oppression by both the British and the Hindus. Militant Hindus, for their part, belonged to the Hindu Mahasabha, which called for the uncompromising supremacy of the Hindu community. Other parties and factions, including rival communist parties, sought attention and support. But none approached the strength of the Congress, the League or the Mahasaba.
My initial instructors on India were colleagues in the American diplomatic mission at New Delhi and the consulate general at Calcutta. They were well informed, generously shared what they had learned with me, and introduced me to their British and Indian contacts. This was most helpful, but I wanted to go further afield, to other parts of India, and to meet influential Indians outside the diplomatic circuit, especially the troublemakers.
Had I been on the staff of the American Mission, it would have been awkward or even improper for me to associate with those hostile to the government to which I would have been accredited, the Government of India. But I was assigned to the American Embassy in China and detailed to General Stilwell. My legitimacy in India derived from my detail to the general who, as Commanding General of American Forces China-Burma-India, enjoyed for himself and his staff an accepted standing in India. As Stilwell allowed me wide latitude of initiative and action, I was free to move about the country and to seek out Indians with whom my Foreign Service colleagues had little or no contact.
Beginning my political explorations, I went to a meeting of the Congress leadership at Allahabad. Uninvited, I intended simply to appear on the scene and ask to be allowed to see and hear as much as permitted. Fortunately, I was in the company of Edgar Snow, who, as a famous liberal journalist, was a presumed partisan of Indian independence and therefore assured of a welcome. In any event, all literate Indians, especially the Congress people, were fascinated by the American newcomers on the Indian scene. It was not simply the novelty of the American presence and personality, it was also, at least during the first half of 1942, an astonishingly widespread assumption that the United States could and might induce Britain to give India back to the Indians. We were expected to identify ourselves with the Indians, for had we not also suffered under the British colonial oppression?
“With the magic password, ‘American correspondent,’“ I wrote in my diary on May 2, “Ed and I were hustled through the crowd into the council hall. The floor was covered with white canvas on which perhaps 300 people were seated. Ed and I sat on some steps at the side of the hall.”
There on the low platform at the end of the small hall were those who only five years later would govern India. Gandhi was absent, but only in the flesh, for although he was at his ashram, in Central India, all of the Working Committee were aware of what he expected of them. Sitting on a chair just off stage was the glamorous super-Brahmin, Nehru. Also on the platform was C. Rajagopalachari, the clever, pragmatic politician from Madras who would in 1948 become Governor General of India. The brilliant, ebullient, poet-politician, Mrs. Naidu, was settled comfortably on the floor with other members of the Working Committee. Maulana Azad, one of Congress’s token Muslims, whose membership was pointed to as a refutation of the Muslim accusation that the party was really a Hindu organization and not representative, presided over the meeting, seated on a chair and hunched over a footstool-high table.
The issues before the meeting were conditioned by two recent developments. One was the breakdown of negotiations between Congress and Sir Stafford Cripps, Lord Privy Seal, who had been sent out from London with a qualified offer of independence for India. Each side blamed the other for the failure. The second development was that by bombing some of the east coast towns, the Japanese had suddenly brought home to the Indians the threat of invasion.
Reflecting Gandhi’s position, the sense of the meeting was negative and passive—it would be futile to attempt to reopen negotiations with the British; the British would never relinquish control; also, it would be useless to seek to join forces with the Muslim League in approaching the British because the League would not accept a Congress overture. As for the war against Japan, the Congress would not support the British and if the Japanese invaded, they should be met by Gandhian non-violent resistance. Rajagopalachari voiced the only dissent.
“The windows were open,” I noted in my journal. “The railroad track lay beyond. An occasional train went past whistling in a piping little voice. The windows behind the platform were also open, framing in neat symbolism a corner of a small house with a collapsing roof caused by a crumbling wall.”
Rajagopalachari was speaking when we came in. A slight, stooped little man swathed in white yards of cotton and wearing a pair of large black glasses. He was speaking in well-chosen English. The atmosphere he created and that created by most of the other speakers was that of a polite debating society. There was obvious relish in the making and receiving of witticisms. The only sense of urgency and crisis was that of having to catch the 11 a.m. train to Madras on which some of the congressmen were returning home.
Rajaji was arguing for his so-called Madras resolution: India was being attacked; Indians had already been killed on Indian soil; it was useless to cry out over the inequities of the present Government; India must unite now; Mr. Jinnah’s Muslim League can be brought into a national government. It is a child which wants to sit in the front seat of a car taking a family to the station—if you enter into a discussion with the child on who is to sit up front you miss the train. The principal obstacle to a rational government is the psychological one of Muslim prestige; concede Pakistan in principle and in practice you will find the Muslims cooperating.
Then several other members of the Working Committee spoke. The speeches in native language were sprinkled with English phrases: popular mandate, wishful thinking, subtle brain, child psychology. The members and ladies in the gallery followed the proceedings intently.
Nehru, who had a cold and cough, spoke in opposition to the resolution, of course. He made a very poor case. He did little more than say that the concept of Pakistan was repugnant to him and opposed to the objectives of the Congress. He said that he had sought to bring about a Hindu-Muslim rapprochement, and that if going down on his knees to the Muslims or to the beggars would serve to bring about internal unity, he would gladly do so.
Maulana Azad, who looked and gesticulated rather like a forceful mayor of a small French town, allowed Rajaji a final speech. He [Rajagopalachari] opened with a crack saying that Pandit Nehru, possessing the reputation and personality that he did, had no need to resort to eloquence. He went on to say that time was very short, that the attitude of the Congress might serve in peace time but that in the present crisis the Congress should seize the initiative and seek a solution through compromise with the Muslims. (He did not say here that this was the best revolutionary opportunity before Indians in many years.) “You have proved your case against the British to the hilt, but what purpose does it serve?” The Congress should take such authority as was offered and use it.
The meeting broke up. The hot, tired young ushers in orange colored saris and soiled chemises ceased their bustling, leaned against the walls and fanned themselves. The young troopers in maroon-colored shorts melted into the sweating, milling crowd out in the sunny street. I saw a banner which at first
