Page 63 of A Shimla Affair
‘When I saw him all those weeks ago, I couldn’t recognize him. But when you showed me the photograph, I knew. He was not ‘Guruji’ back then. He went by Vidyasagar, following Mistry Sahib around, gaining his trust. But your father threw this boy out of his life. He, too, had the same photograph, and he asked me to burn it.’
The look on Guruji’s face confirmed for us that this was true. Anger subsumed me, he who had earlier appeared benevolent and inspirational, was now pathetic.
‘Our father saw potential in you, didn’t he, Guruji? But he didn’t agree with your vision … you had a very different idea of how India should look, didn’t you?’ Noor said.
Afreen continued, ‘Sood went to you with the idea of starting riots between the Hindus and Muslims, which unknown to you, was coming from Beeson—but here you saw your chance. You took Sood’s idea and made it bigger. You saw this as an opportunity for Hindu triumph.’
I stepped towards him, a kind of hatred that I didn’t know I could feel emerging from within me. ‘You orchestrated the riots, setting up Bina with Iqbal, convincing the mobs that she had been kidnapped, killing scores of Muslims, killing scores of Hindus as well, through your actions. You let both communities destroy, their shops, their livelihoods, their very lives. And you yelled for revenge, caring for neither, because people are so dispensable to you, aren’t they?’
Noor pointed the gun to his head. ‘Then, you convinced us that, unless we wanted this violence to take over all of India, we had to help you get the Viceroy. You told us it would free India, but it would only make sure that you and your cronies quickly took over the government, before anyone else had any chance to react.’
Ratan Babu chimed in, ‘But there’s one place where Sood messed up. Instead of making Bina disappear, he got her a job at Lady Sinclair’s house. Sood was aware of the Viceroy’s relations with the lady, and he planned to use Bina as a spy. He either did not trust Beeson entirely or wanted his fingers in all the pies. Sood made the girl spy on the Viceroy. Whenever the Viceroy came to Lady Sinclair’s, Bina would tell Sood all that she overheard. Sood wanted to know what the Viceroy said about Beeson, he wanted to judge the intentions of both men.
‘But the funny thing is, you had the same idea, didn’t you? You were also going to Bina for information, were you not, Guruji?Bina heard the Viceroy advise Lady Sinclair to leave India before they rolled the civil war into action, and she told you what she had learnt. You didn’t understand fully at the time what this civil war could mean, but you knew that you had to get to the Viceroy before that. Eliza May recognized you earlier, saying that you had been to Lady Sinclair’s house.’
Noor exclaimed, ‘Bina told Begum Jaan about you, Guruji, and that’s why we know that you were a part of it all. You are as big a traitor as Sood. Our father left your side because he was appalled. Where you saw power, our father saw India, taking along anyone and everyone in India.’
I bent down to look him in the eye. ‘You have been betrayed, but you also betrayed, Guruji. You tried to play us, but you forgot that you can be played as well.’
The shock on his face was now replaced with defensiveness. At least he didn’t bother denying any of it. ‘What do you care? This is not your battle. Hindus, Muslims … it doesn’t matter. You are helping us win freedom, isn’t that what you wanted?’
‘It’s not freedom,’ Afreen said.
‘Of course it is, girl! And all is still not lost. Beeson is here, so nobody to give the orders. I’ll take the Viceroy to the Bhagat Fauj on my own, forget Sood—we could still win this. Let me out, let me be free, and we can lead India to a new horizon.’
‘No,’ Afreen said.
‘But why not—’
‘Because you don’t replace chains with chains! No, if there will be a new India, it will be free, but also free of your bigotry, your treachery and your prejudice.’
‘Tell me,’ I asked Guruji, stepping forward, ‘Do you even know what religion Bhagat Singh was?’
‘What? How does it—’
‘You call your army ‘Bhagat Fauj’. Why? What religion was Bhagat Singh?’
‘He was a Hindu, or Sikh I suppose—’
‘No, Guruji. Bhagat Singh was an atheist. He didn’t care for religion.’
He stared at me a long time as if wondering how to regain control of the situation, how to say the right things. ‘You’re making a big mistake here, in your naivety and your ignorance. You think empires are won like this? Heed my advice. What are you even planning to do?’
‘You’ll see. Stop pretending your motives are noble. Perhaps you might want freedom, but what you mostly want is power, and that’s why you couldn’t see what was right in front of you. Seal him up. Let’s put his gag back on.’
A loud noise announced Lord Ripon’s car getting closer to the hotel, the arrival of the first of the soldiers. This was it, there was no going back. We were now going to raise the Indian flags, the ones which meant independence, declaring defiance to the British government in India. I had never felt so scared; I had never been so brave.
I rushed to the entrance, opening the door and going to either side, where the flags were attached to their staffs. I pulled the rope with as much strength as I could muster, and the flag went up. Afreen had stuffed it with rose petals, and they showered on me like confetti, their satin silkiness caressing me. I did the same with the second flag and came back inside and shut the doors. The staffs were very tall, almost reaching the hotel’s upper floors, and could be seen from far. As they blew in the wind, I could see from the windows the people approaching the hotel.
The Commander-in-Chief’s car was followed by a cavalry of men, armed and uniformed, who split into two groups, going to the hotel gate’s left and right sides. The car parked in the cornerand Lord Ripon exited, flanked by his inferiors. They took out pairs of binoculars, trying to look inside the building.
The four of us and Khushilalji walked closer to the windows and hid under the ledge. We put on our gramophone, placed strategically close to the windows, to play the song of our freedom.
I began singing the soulful beats ofSaare Jahan se Achhaand soon fell into a rhythm, and the others joined me. It was easy to give in to this emotion—this love for what it meant to be Indians, to question where we stood, to fight for the essence of our being, to be able to live and breathe free as we are. I found myself choking up as I sang along.
All fear left me when I looked at my family. All that mattered, and was important in the world, was what we were doing right now. All that was beautiful was what we had set out to do, to stand up for what we believed in.
The army outside saw the raised flags, the sealed gates and, as the song ended Ratan Babu yelled out, ‘Hindustan,hamara hai!’
