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Phillips
Talbot was only 24 when he arrived in India in 1939. Within months
of his arrival, the young American met and interviewed Jawaharlal
Nehru, Liaquat Ali Khan, Mohammad Ali Jinnah and Khan Abdul Ghaffar
Khan. Of Nehru, he said, "He smiles easily" but "his
flashes of anger are also well known." He described Jinnah
as a bull-headed yet shrewd megalomaniac, while Abdul Ghaffar Khan
had "nothing wily about him, nothing clever. He lives with
a deep conviction of God."
In
August of 1941, he finally got to personally meet Mohandas Gandhi
at the Congress leader's ashram in Sevagram, near Wardha. And like
the other iconic leaders, he also managed to suck the awe and mystique
out of the most prominent personality of the time in Indian politics.
Gandhi, according to Talbot, would preach on the benefits of goat's
milk and made trite habitual expressions, such as "ah, you
have come" and "for the simple reason that," part
of his personality.
But
just as effortlessly, Talbot could eloquently show why Nehru, Jinnah
and Gandhi "were giants among men." After hearing Gandhi
speak to a crowd of 5,000, Talbot described his public speaking
skills with reverence: "He had an intimate home chat with each
member of that audience. There was warmth, friendliness, pleading
in his voice; not the slightest trace of oratory
As he continued,
the rustling of the whole day stopped
For half an hour the
eyes of hundreds of them never left Gandhiji's face. Few people
could give such a demonstration of super-rational crowd control."
All
these observations, and many more, had been recorded in a series
of letters written by Talbot between 1939 and 1950. Together, in
the book An American Witness to India's Partition, the letters create
a collection of detailed observations, analyses, opinions and personal
experiences that provide rare, third-party, evolving insight into
one of the most important political transformations of the 20th
century.
These
letters are fascinating because they combine the characteristics
of many forms of writing. They have the intimate nature of diary
entries, the detail and firsthand information of news reports, the
thoroughness of academic studies and the flow of well-structured
essays. This stems from his background and the purpose of his letters.
In 1938, with a degree in political science and journalism, Talbot
joined the Chicago Daily News as a reporter before being awarded
a fellowship from the New York-based Institute of Current World
Affairs. His letters were the core of his official communication
with the institute and its director, Walter S. Rogers, in which
Talbot was to detail his discoveries of the intricacies of Indian
political, economic and social life.
Talbot
travelled far and wide in his quest to understand India. He visited
Muslim University in Aligarh (for a lengthy five months) where he
first heard the Muslim League's cry against Hindu domination and
was exposed to the idea of partition, calling it a "backward
step." Talbot journeyed to a remote village to attend the annual
meeting of the Indian National Congress to witness 100,000 devout
Congressmen show up despite "bad rail connections and inconvenient
travel arrangements." He spent time with locals and families
in Lahore and Kashmir, and took a two-week tour of Afghanistan where
he appreciated the romantic grandeur of Mughal gardens, the broad-shouldered
and manly Pashtuns with rifles slung over their shoulders, the now-destroyed
Bamian Buddhas and a wide variety of agriculture encompassing everything
from wheat to pomegranates - the days before opium was the biggest
crop. By the spring of 1946, he sensed that "the ambitions
of the Congress and the League
have crystallised into unalterable
opposition," and in the post-Second World War climate, Britain
neither possessed the capacity nor the will to re-establish its
imperial presence in the subcontinent. In fact, he predicted the
forthcoming British fatigue as early as 1941 when he wrote that
even a victorious Britain would face a "mass movement of newly
enlightened voters [that] is less likely to be compromising than
skilled diplomats."
What follows are his accounts of the Calcutta riots - "watching
a great city feed on its own flesh" - and descriptions of Dawn's
editorial cartoons the day before 'Direct Action Day.'
Some
later passages are particularly fascinating. In July 1947, in the
weeks leading up to the transfer of power, he describes the state
of the players in Delhi: "Everywhere weary worn men were struggling
with problems that were too vast and too complex for them to comprehend
fully in the available time."
Talbot's
letters are special for another reason. They are incredibly insightful
for a young man with little professional experience and little exposure
to the world outside the US. Moreover, they are simply fun to read,
for in this age of email, they display the lost art of letter writing.
But
many sensitive and patriotic Pakistanis may take offence at Talbot's
observations on Jinnah and the League. Talbot wrote with a questioning
tone about the party's claims and sources of economic, political
and religious "irritation," and his letters clearly show
that he developed more respect for Gandhi, Nehru and Vallabhbhai
Patel than for Jinnah. "No man in Indian life today uses such
intemperate language in public references to other leaders,"
wrote Talbot about Jinnah in 1941. "Few men could be less compromising."
Jinnah is repeatedly described as cold and is subtly blamed for
the break-up of India.
But
one thing will be appreciated by all: by using key literary elements,
such as characters, dialogue and vivid, detailed description, Talbot
has painted a picture of a country in flux, and readers are treated
to an outsider's view of the seminal decade in South Asian history:
the 1940s.
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