Slivers of a Nation

The Statue of Unity – the world’s tallest statue at 182 meters (600 feet) – at Kevadia on the banks of the Sardar Sarovar Dam is now the venue for Aarambh, a weeklong programme for all the young entrants to the civil services of India to pay their homage to the man who united India – both literally and metaphorically. There, in the museum, are on display the letters of accession of many of the 565-odd princely states, which bear the signature of the ruler of the state, followed by their acceptance by Governor General Mountbatten.

The rulers who signed the instrument of accession were a divergent lot – these included the rulers of twenty-one gun salute states such as Hyderabad, Mysore, Baroda, Gwalior and J&K – states with fabled riches, for whom Kipling said Providence created the maharajas to offer mankind a spectacle – to Vijanones in Kathiawar: states whose territory was less than one square mile, in which just two hundred souls resided, and whose annual income was less than Rs 500.

While each of these accessions to India is a story waiting to be told – for it marked one of the most successful transitions from a feudal order to a democratic polity – Mallika Ravikumar, in her creative non-fiction book for young adults, has captured thirteen unique slivers of our history: Travancore, which felt that it was better off as an independent country; Bhopal, which wanted to create a Princestan; Gwalior, which was in two minds about supporting Bhopal or joining the Dominion of India; Indore’s vacillation; Bikaner’s procrastination till Ferozepur was finally allotted to India by Radcliffe; Jinnah’s blank cheque to Jodhpur; and the firm commitment of UP’s Muslim riyasat of Rampur to India, which resisted all efforts by Liaquat Ali Khan, the first Prime Minister of Pakistan, who had come to cajole the Nawab into joining Pakistan. But Rampur was one of the first to accede to India.

On the other hand, Baroda and Nawanagar in present-day Gujarat – ruled by the clans of the Gaekwads and the Jadejas – were trying to create an independent union of Kathiawar, and the Sardar had to mobilise the volunteers of the Congress and the AIPSC to din some lessons of patriotism into these rulers. Ravikumar also shares with the readers the trauma of Punjab’s partition – the poignant story of how Sant Raja Singh of the village Thoa Khalsa decapitated twenty-six women and girls of his own family to prevent them from being brutally raped by vigilante mobs baying for the blood of Hindus and Sikhs.

Patiala too shared the antipathy of most rulers towards the Congress, but finally its Maharaja was coaxed and cajoled into becoming the Rajpramukh of PEPSU (the Patiala and East Punjab States Union), with the Kapurthala Maharaja as the Up-Rajpramukh. Ironically enough, Captain Amarinder Singh, the scion of the family, was later elected as the Chief Minister of the state on a Congress ticket! (Now, he is in the BJP.)

The book then takes us to the small 13-gun salute kingdom of Tripura. Here, Maharaja Sir Bir Bikram Singh, who had participated in the Second World War and received the Order of the British Empire, had been keen that the state should finally accede to India—a sentiment he conveyed through his representative to the Constituent Assembly, GS Guha. Unfortunately, he passed away two months before Independence, and the decision of Tripura was conveyed by her to Sardar Patel. This state required immediate assistance of Indian troops as three-quarters of her borders were now an international border.

Another interesting succession story is that of the Nawab of Junagadh, who had initially heeded the advice of his constitutional adviser Nabi Baksh to join the Indian Union, as its population was overwhelmingly Hindu, and the Nawab too was keen to join the Kathiawar States Union within the Dominion of India. However, Jinnah worked on Shah Nawaz Bhutto—the father of Zulfikar and grandfather of Benazir (both of whom became Prime Ministers of Pakistan)—to get the Nawab to sign the papers in favour of Pakistan. But Menon had an ace up his sleeve: he entered into negotiations with Mangrol, Manavadar and Babariawad—the three feudatory states of Junagadh—to secure their allegiance to India. Meanwhile, Congress volunteers under Sambaldas Gandhi set up a parallel government, Arzi Hukumat, and, aided by the Bombay State police forces, brought

village after village under their control. The eccentric Nawab fled with his dogs—leaving his wife and child behind. A referendum was held in which accession to India was confirmed with an overwhelming majority.

The official name of J&K was Riyasat-e-Jammu wa Kashmir wa Ladhak wa Tibet ha. As one of the largest—certainly the most picturesque—states of India with a majority Muslim population, Maharaja Hari Singh toyed with the idea of Independence, little realising that the public sentiment was with the National Conference of Sheikh Abdullah, who had been associated with the All-India States People’s Congress from the Haripura session of the Congress. When the Pakistani-backed intruders attacked the frontiers of the state, the Maharaja hastily signed the instrument of accession, and Indian forces stepped into Srinagar to retrieve the situation—albeit partially.

Last, but not the least, is the story of Hyderabad—aptly called The Crawling Caterpillar. Contrary to the advice of his cabinet and the constitutional adviser Sir Walter Monckton, the Nizam lent his ear to the rabble-rouser K Razvi, who did not realise that while he had the support of hundreds of Razakars, the support for the State Congress (aligned with the Arya Samaj and the RSS) was in the thousands. Rejecting the firman of the Nizam, Swami Ramananda Tirtha declared, “No decision can be accepted unless it is endorsed by the people. The people of Hyderabad—whether Hindu or Muslim, Telugu, Marathi or Kannadiga—they come from the same stock as their brethren outside... our future lies in the Union of India.”

The best part of the book is the ‘Postscript’ and ‘Did it Really Happen This Way’ at the end of each chapter. This gives the young reader an update on the developments in each of the states. Thus, for example, the postscript on Hyderabad informs us that, despite the posturing by K Razvi, the state fell within 108 hours of Operation Polo—necessitated by the Nizam’s obscurantism. On September 18, 1948, the Nizam announced Hyderabad’s merger with India, and in November 1949, he issued another firman accepting the adoption of India’s Constitution. Later, when the country became a Republic, the Nizam was made the Raj Pramukh of Hyderabad. Sidney Cotton, the man who tried to smuggle weapons into Hyderabad, went on to invent colour photographic film, and was the inspiration behind the iconic character James Bond.

And finally, she mentions the array of resources deployed by her in writing this chapter: in addition to Integration of States by VP Menon, she looked at the writings of Sir Mirza Ismail, John Zubrzycki, P Sundarayya, speeches of Swami Ramananda Tirtha, Uma T’s doctoral thesis, AG Noorani, Sardar Patel’s correspondence, and documents from Transfer of Power and Towards Freedom.

Before closing, one must mention the clever nuance of language employed by the British in their dealings with the states. In the first instance, they were called ‘princely states’ and their throne was called gaddi. A prince is a ‘king-in-waiting’, and the Indian Rajas and Maharajas, for all their pomp and glory, were always reminded of their status vis-à-vis their titles and gun salute rankings. Thus, the Viceroy’s gun salute of 31 guns was far higher than that of even the largest states in India. Gun salute status and titles kept the Rajas on their toes and more or less loyal to the Crown—the ultimate authority.

It is true that many rulers—Mysore, Travancore, Baroda—were progressive and introduced reforms through legislatures with limited mandates; but in general, they lived in their own world of privilege and titles. Most of the princes were members of the Chamber of Princes—or Narinder Mandal—and thought the Government of India Act of 1935 was looking at a role for them in the affairs of the state. By the time the Indian Independence Act of 1947 was announced, the British had renounced their paramountcy and left the princes with the limited option of joining either of the two dominions.

This is a book not just for young adults, but for everyone who wants to understand how the Dominion of India—with eleven provinces and 565 states—was transformed into the Republic of India by January 26, 1950, thanks to the stupendous efforts of Sardar Patel and his able lieutenant, VP Menon.

The writer, a former Director of LBS National Academy of Administration, is currently a historian, policy analyst and columnist, and serves as the Festival Director of Valley of Words — a festival of arts and literature