That case of Pandit Brothers

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The strange world of the Emergency in India saw many extraordinary happen­ ings in many parts of the country. Here is the case of Pandit Brothers, a reputed Delhi firm, which had to face persecution and harass­ ment during the Emergency. This story told by one of the Partners of the firm, brings out vividly the enormity of the Emergency Raj, taking the reader along, from the shop counter to the Supreme Court, from peace-loving homes to the police lock-up.

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PANDIT BROTHERS

U R M ILA H AKSAR

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PUBLICATIONS

F -2 4 Bhagat Sii)gh Market New Oethi^l 10001 v-

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b ^7 *4* 1$ First published March 1978 © U R M ILA H A K S A R 1978

Available a t : P E R S P E C T IV E P U B L IC A T IO N S (P) LTD . F-2 4 Bhagat Singh Market New Delhi-110 001

P A N D IT B R O S F-10 Connaught Place New Delhi-110 001

CAT FOR

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r v ’ • ■- '■ • • r. c ■ ‘ ‘ ‘ Printed in India, * v " ’ ‘ “ at Shaheed Prakaahan Press. A-794, Amar Puri. Nabi Kareem, New Delhi and Published by Perspective- ^Publications Private Ltd., New Delhi

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I fumbled for the telephone in the dark. The bedside lamp was not working. *‘Who was it?” asked my husband sleepily. “D.P.” , I replied. “Mathur, the Manager of Pandit Brothers was arrested this afternoon.” “Whatever for?” “How should I know?” “But didn’t D.P. say anything?” “ No: All that he said was that we had better know of the arrest and rang off.” I: made no sense. I looked at my watch. It was ten thirty. Not really late. But having turned in early, we had been already asleep when the telephone rang. Being too dopey with sleep, nothing registered. The telephone woke us up early next morning. It was D.P. again — very agitated. Panditji had rung him up a little while ago to say that the police had come to his house in the morn­ ing and were taking him away. Panditji was my husband’s uncle. Before I could formulate a question, DP had rung off. Bewildered, I repeated the message to my husband. We looked at each other not comprehending. He asked me to ring 1 Digitized by

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back D.P. Singh while he went to the bathroom. D.P., as w e called him, is an old friend he is a Senior Supreme C o u rt Advocate and member of Rajya Sabha. It was D.P.’s wife. D.P. had left the house as soon as Panditji had telephoned to inform him of his imminent arrest. She d id not know where he had gone. All she could tell me was th a t there had been a raid on the Old Delhi branch of P andit Brothers, the day before, but she did not know the details. “It had something to do with tagging,” she said. “What tagging?” I asked. She had no idea. By then it was about eight in the morning. The courts do not open till ten. I t meant that the old man had been taken to the police station. He was 82 and had, recently, had a cataract operation. I tried to ring him up at his residence but the phone was constantly engaged and I could not get through. We sat down for breakfast. A poached egg for my husband,, toast and butter for me. I poured him a cup of coffee and was pouring one for myself when the telephone started ringing in the next noom. I rushed to pick it up and spilled the coffee in the process. It was Mrs Mushran. The police had come to take away her husband, she told me. She wanted to speak to Babboo — my husband — her brother. “What is happening?” I asked my husband. A grim face looked back at me not answering. We both sat at the breakfast table staring at the coffee cups. *

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“Parmeshwar, what’s happening?” this is what a friend had asked on the morning of June 26 as he and his wife had burst open the door and entered the dining room, where my husband and I were having breakfast. We sat discussing the Emergency and its implications. “What’s happening?” did not mean that our friend was confused and did not comprehened. None of usfour had any illusions. Just as on that day, so today, we both understood very well. It was a well-tried method to use the relatives for pressure tactics. Arrest of my husband's uncle, aged 82 and his brother-in-law, aged 72, fitted very well into an un­ folding pattern. The telephone broke up my reverie. It was Mrs Mushranagain wanting to speak to her brother. “I’m not going to do anything,” I overhead him say. He 2 Digitized by

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came back and sat down, his face flushed with anger and help­ lessness. “What can I do?” he said aloud. “What can I do?” We did not have to wait long. A hysterical Mrs Mushran informed me over the telephone “the police are taking him away...” her voice trailed off as she put the receiver back. I told my husband. He shrugged his shoulder. Getting up from the chair he walked into the study, picked up his briefcase and went to his office. He did not utter a word. Words were not necessary. I remained seated where I was, with breakfast things in front of me. •

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Pandit Brothers located in Chandni Chowk was opened in 1927. My associations with it went way back to almost its > inception, when as a child I spent my summer vacations with Inder Mamu (Panditji) in Old Delhi, Scenes flitted through my memory. Inder Mamu and Mausaji (his brother.in-law) sitting on the floor on spotless white sheets, reclining against huge bolster pillows. Climbing the staircase, a year or two later, finding a very modern showroom glittering with neon lights and glass topped counters, old fashioned seating on the floor had given place to chairs. The best kulfiwala in town sat in front of the shop and we could have as many kulfis as we liked. ‘Chaat’ was round the comer and many other eats, and lemonade from the bottles which had coloured marble stoppers. There were cut-pieces I aplenty. And I could take as many as I liked to make dolls’s clothes. What a booty we used to take home! *

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“Urmila what are you doing?” It was my mother-in-law. I was startled. Instinctively, I decided not to tell her anything till I knew the facts better. I told her that I was going out for a while and calling a taxi, I went straight to Maharani Bagh where the Mushrans lived. The door was ajar and I walked straight into the bedroom. Saraswati Didda (as I call Mrs. Mushran) was reclining on her bed talking to her daughter, Madhu. She had sounded hysterical over the telephone, but now, I was relieved to find her quite calm. “What happened?” I asked, my voice betraying anxiety. “Late last night we were woken up by a phone call from one 3 Digitized by

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of our salesmen. He told me that Mathur had been arrested and that.the police would come to our house the next morning. When I asked him the reason for the arrest he mentioned som e­ thing about missing tags. You know he (Mr Mushran) had been ill and I did not want him to get upset so I put the receiver down without asking any more questions. Frankly, I could’t understand what the salesman was talking about.” Then Saraswati Didda told me of that morning's drama. “I was saying my prayers”, she continued, “when the servant came in to say that two policemen had come to see the Saheb. It was about 8 o'clock and he was in the bathroom. So I went out and asked them what they* wanted. They said that they had to speak to Mr Mushran. I told the policemen that he had high blood pressure and was laid up in bed. But they absolutely insisted upon seeing Mr Mushran. So I called him.” Mr Mushran asked them if they had a warrant of arrest for him. The policemen said that they were not arresting him. They only wanted Mr Mushran to accompany them to the Police Thana for some questioning. Mr Mushran told them that he had not been going to the shop for more than a fortnight and was not in touch with whatever was happening in the shops and would not be able to help them in anyway. If it was merely to question him, they might as well do it at his jesidence. What was the point of taking him to the Thana? But the policemen were absolutely adament. Mr Mushran agreed to go with them only if his doctor accompanied him. The policemen said that they were willing to wait until the doctor arrived. “The first person I thought of ringing up” Mrs Mushran continued, “was Harish, the only lawyer I know. Beside he is related to us as you know and he lives next door. I asked him to come immediately. I rang up Dr Desai and told him to come at once. Then I rang up Babbo. It was Baboo who told me of Inderbhai’s arrest. I was taken aback. Baboo said to me. ‘this sort of thing is to be expected and perhaps more would happen’. I asked him to try and do something to stop all this and he said that he would try.” I remembered overhearing him say “1 am not going to do anything” but I did not contradict her. “What happened next?” I asked. She smiled and said that just then the telephone rang. It was Madhu enquiring if her mother wanted vegetables from Paharganj. Everything is so much cheaper there... “I told her that her father was about to be arrested.” 4 Digitized by

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Madhu, who had been listening, intervened, “I could not understand what Mama was talking about. Naturally, Yadu and I decided to come here instead of going shopping. What a scene when we arrived here!” “ Harish arrived, followed soon by Dr Desai.” Saraswati Didda continued. “We had been waiting for Babboo's telephone call. All of us had taken it for granted that Babboo would ring up somebody or the other and stop the police from proceeding further. At about 9.30 a.m. Harish asked me to ring up Babboo again. I was too disconcerted and told him to speak to Babboo himself. Babboo said ‘I can't do anything’. When Babboo said that, we felt disturbed and although the police had not mentioned the word arrest, we felt certain that Kamta would be arrested. I wanted to accompany him to the police station. But Harish persuaded me not to, and asked Madhu to stay behind to keep me company.” As Mr Mushran’s arrest was anticipated, Harish asked his wife, Asha, to go with him to stand surety for his bail. He was busy with a case in the High Court and suggested the name o f one of his juniors to accompany them to get the papers ready for the bail. Soon after 9.30 a.m. Mr Mushran, Dr Desai, Asha and the lawyer left for Lahori Gate police station. The morning lapsed into late noon but there was no sign of them. As the time passed we became anxious and apprehensive, wondering what could have happened. Even if Mr Mushran was arrested he should have been granted bail. Mathur, we knew, h a d been arrested under DIR; so Kamtabhai, if arrested, would also be arrested under DIR and not under MISA. The question o f not getting bail did not arise. At about half past three we heard a car stop outside. As we rushed to the door we saw Kamtabhai enter with the palms o f his hands stretched forward in front of him. He was in a rage, screaming and shouting incoherently. It was impossible to grasp what he was saying. Asha and Dr Desai came behind him looking very perturbed. Asha took me aside and told me “Urmila Didda! I just did not know how to control Kamtabhai. He was beside himself with rage. One should count one’s blessings that he was not handcuffed. Urmila Didda! he was swearing at the Prime Minister. He called her all sorts of names right in front of the policemen. He used the most abusive language, and went on swearing at the P .M .’ 5 Digitized by

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The food was on the table. We sat down to lunch but M r Mushran remained standing in the same posture as before. His hands upraised, his head slightly bent, muttering and mumbling to himself, As if half demented. Saraswati Didda asked him to wash his hands, which were black with ink. At the mention of his hands he started scream­ ing “No! No! No! I will not wash my hands. I want to smear this ink on her bloody face. Am I a criminal? Why should they take my finger prints, hand prints, palm prints...” He started swearing again. It went on for a long time, and we did not know how to pacify him. Ultimately Asha fished out an old newspaper with a blown-up photograph of Mrs Gandhi. Kamtabhai smeared the photograph. Then with his hands which were still black he smeared his wife’s cheeks, and also that of Asha’s and mine. Somehow this comforted him and he agreed to wash his hands and sat down to lunch. Mr Mushran had gone in the morning without any breakfast and was hungry. He started eating — but the moment he looked at his hands, he would stop eating and start swearing again. After much coaxing and cajoling, I managed to put Kamtabhai into good humour. We started discussing the problem of tagging, and decided that the best thing would be to close all the three shops, make sure that every item had been tagged, and only then reopen the shops. Kamtabhai talked in his normal manner, but from time to time he would glance at his hands and start screaming. “Am I a bloody criminal?” It had obviously been a traumatic experience to have his handprints taken like that of a common criminal. As decided, I left for Connaught Place. When I arrived at the shop I found Raj Kishanji and Bakaya Saheb, the two managers and Gopalji, the Sales Manager, standing in a comer, their faces weary and tense. I told them that I was coming from Mr Mushran’s house and gave them the message that the shops should be closed to check all tagging. Gopalji told me that he had been very concerned about Mr Mushran s abusive language, and was worried that even if there was no case against him, they might charge him with defam­ ation. One of the police officers was Gopalji’s friend. When he went to ask for help, the police officer put his hands over his ears as if to pretend that he had not heard what Mr Mushran was saying. It because of Gopalji’s friendship with the police officer, that they were not handcuffed, and all the three, Panditji, Mushrans Saheb and Mathur were well treated.

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1 came back home, at about 7 o’clock in the evening and found D .P. sitting in the study with my husband. D.P. told us that yesterday when he had come back from the Courts he found Panditji waiting for him. Panditji informed him of the raid on th e Chandni Chowk branch of Pandit Brothers and of the arrest o f Mathur, the Manager of that shop. He calmed Panditji, gave him a cigar to smoke, and told him not to worry. He wanted the car for investigating this matter. So he told Panditji to go home and send the car back to him. D.P. was convinced that neither the raid nor the arrest could have taken place without an order, or at least, without the knowledge of Delhi Administration. D.P.’s first instinct was to see the then Minister of State for Home Affairs. He went to Om Mehta's house. But he was not at home. D.P. wondered whom to go to next and decided upon seeing Ambika Soni. He knew that Kishan Chand, the JLt.-Governor, and his Secretary Navin Chawla were her good friends. Also that Ambika Soni had a high regard for Haksar Saheb and me. He went to her house, and had a talk with her for over three quarters of an hour. She did not know anything about this case, but she promised to find out and try to do whatever she could. Neither D.P. nor Ambika linked it with Haksar Saheb at that time. But when Panditji rang up to say that the police had come to arrest him, D.P. felt that there might be some connection. After ringing us up, D.P. rang up Garg, his colleague, who is also a Supreme Court Advocate, and informed him about all that had happened. Then D.P. called a taxi and went straight to Om Mehta’s house. It must have been between 7 and 7-30 in the morning. He gate-crashed into Om Mehta’s drawing room, and said loudly, “If you are having tea, please come out in the drawing room and have tea, with me” . Om Mehta came into the drawing room. D.P. told Om Mehta that the Manager of Pandit Brothers was arrested yesterday on some trumped-up charge. “A little while ago the police took Pandit Haksar to the Police Station. You find out exactly what has happened and intervene in the matter because such things are not in the interest of the Prime Minister.” Om Mehta tried to telephone the Lt. Governor several times, but could not get through to him. He promised to do whatever he could and remarked: “It appears rather 7 Digitized by

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serious . D.P. spent the next hour and a half going from person to person in the hope that someone would intervene in this m atter. He first went to the Congress President, Mr Borooah’s house. Mr Borooah’s instant reaction was that: “It looks like a personal vendetta” . He pleaded helplessness and said he could not do anything. The next stop was Ashoka Hotel where Rajni Patel was staying. When D.P. told him about the arrests he just kept mum. D.P. asked him to intervene in this matter with the P.M. “Great anarth (injustice) is being done,” : D.P. said. Rajni replied “What can I do”? D.P. tried Siddhartha Sankar Ray, the then Chief Minister of West Bengal, Siddhartha became very serious. After a while he replied, “You know in all these matters I am helpless.” As D.P. was returning from Siddhartha’s residence he found himself in Vijay Chowk. He looked at his watch. It was 10-35 by then. It flashed in his mind that the P.M. must have arrived at her office in the South Block by then. He decided to go and speak to her. D.P. told Seshan, P.M.’s Private Secretary about the arrests and asked him whether he could see the P.M. immediately. Before letting him in, Seshan told D.P. that Arunaji (Aruna Asaf Ali) had been trying to see the P.M. in this connection. P.M. had not so far given her an interview. D.P. did not have to wait, and was ushered into the P.M.’s room. First, D.P. narrated the sequence of events to the P.M. Then he said “Great anarth is being done” . To this P.M. replied, “There is some hanky-panky in every business. There must be some reason why the police have taken such action.” D.P. replied that he knew Panditji and his firm for the last twenty years. He could vouch for its integrity and clean record. He insisted that P.M. should intervene in this case. H e said Panditji was respected widely and always had a soft corner for the P.M. What was being done to the venerable old man was indefensible and would recoil on her. This argu­ ment seemed to make a dent. She asked Seshan to put her through to the Lt. Governor. She asked Kishan Chand what the case was about. She told D.P. that Kishan Chand had told her that Panditji was arrested because of some missing tags in his shops She assured D.P.that the prosecution would not oppose bail in this case. D.P. came back to his house, got ready and went to his 8 Digitized by

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chambers. There he was*inforthed that the bail application would be moved in the court at 2 p.m. and that under Garg’s instructions his junior was getting the papers ready for the bail. Garg came to the chambers at about 1 p.m. and showed D.P. a decision of the Court on a similar charge where bail had been granted. D.P. reached the court a little before 2 p m , took Panditji by the hand and gently brought him inside the court-room. Mushran Saheb came in accompanied by his Doctor and sat down in a chair behind D.P. and Panditji. He was muttering, something to himself but D.P. was too absorbed with the case to hear what he said. The argument before the Magistrate lasted well over an hour. D.P. was very angy and said that the rule of the jungle was prevailing. He told the Court that the two men under trial are known for their integrity and patriotism. He said Mr Mushran had been a Member of the Railway Board and had a reputation of uncompromising honesty. Panditji, needless to say, was a very respected old citizen of Delhi. And the shop had an unblemished record throughout its existence, a period of almost fifty years. D.P. argued that there was no reason why bail should not be granted to his clients especially since there was no such notification to this effect. When D.P. quoted the case which Garg had pointed out to him the Prosecutor said that he would have to ask for instructions. D.P. retorted that instructions were necessary on facts and not on questions of law: But it did not seem to have any effect. D.P. was surprised that the Prosecutor was so vehemently opposing the granting of bail, contrary to what the P.M. had told him. When D.P. found that the Magistrate was not yielding on the point of law, he made a case for bail on com­ passionate grounds. Panditji was old and infirm, and Mr Mushran was a heart patient and had come accompanied by a doctor. He said the Magistrate would be taking a grave risk if he were to put them behind bars on such tlimsy charges. Ultimately the Magistrate relented and granted bail for twentyfour hours to Mr R.N. Haksar and Mr K.P. Mushran on com­ passionate grounds, but he refused it to Mathur. 1 was very keen to go to the court the next day but D.P. was anxious to keep me out of this case and told me firmly not to be present at the court. He had to attend a banquet a t Rashtrapati Bhavan and left soon after. 9 Digitized by

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My husband told me that in his office (Planning Commis■sion) one of his visitors at the lunch hour was Arjun Singhji

from the early 1920s to the early 1940s. It is a subtly drawn portrait of men and things and events from the point of view of a young mind full of zest and curiosity, a crowded series of vignettes of life, which has the authenticity of a sociological record and the vividness of literature, pp 268.

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