bottled-up frustrations of many years in an emotional mass jag. Mob sprees have rolled from mill districts to gold coasts and back again . . . [T]he happy, infectious celebrations blossomed in forgetfulness of the decades of sullen resentment against all that was symbolized by a sahib’s sun-topi.’
The happenings in India’s most populous city, Calcutta, were characteristic of the mood. For the past few years the city had been in the grip of a cloth shortage, whose signs now miraculously disappeared in a ‘rash of flags that has broken out on houses and buildings . . ., on cars and bicycles and in the hands of babes and sucklings’. Meanwhile, inGovernment House, a new Indian governor was being sworn in. Not best pleased with the sight was the private secretary of the departing British governor. He complained that ‘the general motley character of the gathering from the clothing point of view detracted greatly from its dignity’. There were no dinner jackets and ties on view: only loincloths and white Gandhi caps. With ‘the throne room full of unauthorized persons’, the ceremony was ‘a foretaste of what was to come’ after the British had left India. Its nadir was reached when the outgoing governor of Bengal, Sir Frederick Burrows, had a white Gandhi cap placed on his head as he made to leave the room.
II
In Delhi there was ‘prolonged applause’ when the president of the Constituent Assembly began the meeting by invoking the Father of the Nation – Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. Outside, the crowds shouted ‘Mahatma Gandhi ki jai’. Yet Gandhi was not present at the festivities in the capital. He was in Calcutta, but did not attend any function or hoist a flag there either. The Gandhi caps were on display at Government House with neither his knowledge nor permission. On the evening of the 14th he was visited by the chief minister of West Bengal, who asked him what form the celebrations should take the next day. ‘People are dying of hunger all round,’ answered Gandhi. ‘Do you wish to hold a celebration in the midst of this devastation?’ 7
Gandhi’s mood was bleak indeed. When are porter from the leading nationalist paper, the Hindustan Times , requested a message on the occasion of Independence, he replied that ‘he had run dry’. The British Broadcasting Corporation asked his secretary to help them record a message from the one man the world thought really represented India. Gandhi told them to talk to Jawaharlal Nehru instead. The BBC were not persuaded: they sent the emissary back, adding, as inducement, the fact that this message would be translated into many languages and broadcast around the globe. Gandhi was unmoved, saying: ‘Ask them to forget I know English.’
Gandhi marked 15 August 1947 with a twenty-four-hour fast. The freedom he had struggled so long for had come at an unacceptable price. Independence had also meant Partition. The last twelve months had seen almost continuous rioting between Hindus and Muslims. Theviolence had begun on 16 August 1946 in Calcutta and spread to the Bengal countryside. From there it moved on to Bihar, then on to the United Provinces and finally to the province of Punjab, where the scale of the violence and the extent of the killing exceeded even the horrors that had preceded it.
The violence of August–September 1946 was, in the first instance, instigated by the Muslim League, the party which fuelled the movement for a separate state of Pakistan. The League was led by Mohammad Ali Jinnah, an austere, aloof man, and yet a brilliant political tactician. Like Nehru and Gandhi, he was a lawyer trained in England. Like them, he had once been a member of the Indian National Congress, but he had left the party because he felt that it was led by and for Hindus. Despite its nationalist protestations, argued Jinnah, the Congress did not really represent the interests of India’s largest minority, the Muslims.
By starting a riot in Calcutta in August