LORD MOUNTBATTEN ‘UNDERSTOOD THEIR VERY SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP’, SAYS AUTHOR
by AMIT ROY
A NEW book on the Mountbattens reveals that Lord Louis Mountbatten and his wife, Edwina, one of society’s most glamorous couples, had a remarkably open marriage.
And, far from being jealous, Lord (“Dickie”) Mountbatten was proud of Edwina’s close relationship with Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minister.
Since Mountbatten was the last British viceroy sent out by the Labour prime minister Clement Attlee in 1947 to preside over the transfer of power and the creation of the new state of Pakistan following a bloody partition, The Mountbattens: Their Lives and Loves by Andrew Lownie (Blink; £20), will grip Indian and Pakistani readers.
Lownie poses the question about Edwina and Nehru that has never really been answered satisfactorily: “What was the nature of her relationship with Nehru?”
The author says: “Edwina’s authorised biographer, Janet Morgan, has claimed, having talked to ‘those who knew them well’, that it was purer than a physical relationship, that Nehru respected Dickie and would not have abused that trust.”
He adds that the Mountbattens’ younger daughter, Lady Pamela Hicks, “said it was platonic”.
Also “Mountbatten’s grandson, Ashley Hicks, claims Nehru’s sister (Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit who was once Indian high commissioner in London) revealed that he was impotent and therefore there could not have been a physical relationship with Edwina.”
Lownie himself inclines to the opposite view. “Richard Hough, the author of several books on the Mountbattens and who interviewed Edwina’s sister, later wrote, ‘Mountbatten himself knew they were lovers. He was proud of the fact, unlike Edwina’s sister who deplored the relationship.’ Marie Seton, a friend and biographer of Edwina agreed: ‘I really don’t know about the physical side of their affair – I’d think probably yes.’”
Nehru’s biographer, Stanley Wolpert, wrote that because of the relationship, “Nehru’s daughter Indira (Gandhi) hated her (Edwina)”, Lownie says.
But does any of this matter? The conventional theory is that because of the Mountbattens’ friendship with Nehru and their antipathy towards Muhammad Ali Jinnah, who had demanded a separate homeland for India’s Muslims, the latter was forced to accept “a mutilated, moth-eaten Pakistan”.
Jinnah died of cancer on September 11, 1948, barely a year after independence.
According to Lownie, “Mountbatten later reflected that if he had known the seriousness of his [Jinnah’s] illness, he might have delayed independence, and there might have been no partition.”
Lord Mountbatten and Edwina Ashley were married at St Margaret’s Church, Westminster Abbey, on July 18, 1922. The wedding was attended by King George V and Queen Mary, and with the then Prince of Wales acting as best man.
Lownie produces plenty of evidence to show Mountbatten was bisexual. It was certainly an unusual marriage – “one that was loving and mutually supportive, but also beset with infidelities. As Dickie would later claim, ‘Edwina and I spent all our married lives getting into other people’s beds.’”
No one questions the fact that Edwina and Nehru loved each other. In October 1948, when he came to London for discussions on the Commonwealth, which India had decided to join, “Dickie tactfully left the reunited lovers alone for a midnight rendezvous en route from the airport. ‘Too lovely,’ Edwina noted in her diary.”
Lownie goes on: “For the next week they were inseparable. They visited Jacob Epstein’s studio, Edwina joined Nehru on the platform at a meeting in Kingsway Hall, they saw Euripides’ Medea, jointly attended the Lord mayor’s banquet, a reception at the King’s Hall and a dinner for Dominion Premiers at Buckingham Palace, and were photographed at a Greek restaurant in Soho after the press were tipped off by Krishna Menon (then the Indian high commissioner in London).”
Nehru was soon “back with Edwina at Broadlands (the Mountbattens’ home in Hampshire). It was a relationship that suited them well. Politically, emotionally and intellectually compatible, they drew support from each other. He bought her small exotic gifts, welcome in Britain still in the grip of rationing, such as mangoes from India, cigarettes from Egypt, a Gruyère from Switzerland, but he brought much more. Where Dickie had been too gauche, busy or casually dismissive, here was a man with whom she felt comfortable and an equal, who respected her mind and knew how to appeal to her feelings.”
After the death of King George VI in February 1952, Edwina, hospitalised with a haemorrhage and worried she might also die, “passed Nehru’s letters to her husband for safekeeping”.
Her letter said: “You will realise that they are a mixture of typical Jawaharlal letters full of interest and facts and really historic documents. Some of them have no ‘personal’ remarks at all. Others are love letters in a sense, though you yourself realise the strange relationship – most of its spiritual – which exists between us. J had obviously meant a great deal in my life, in these last years, and I think I in his too. Our meetings have been rare and always fleeting, but I think I understand him, and perhaps he me, as well as any human beings can even understand each other… It is rather wonderful that my affection and respect and gratitude and love for you are really so great that I feel I would rather you had these letters than anyone else, and I feel you would understand and not in any way be hurt – rather the contrary. “
After asking his daughter Pamela to vet the letters first, Mountbatten took a year to reply: “I’m glad you realise I know and have always understood the very special relationship between Jawaharlal and you, made the easier by my fondness and admiration for him, and by the remarkably lucky fact that among my many defects God did not add jealousy in any shape or form. ..That is why I’ve always made your visits to each other easy...”
Edwina died suddenly, aged 59, on February 21, 1960, in British North Borneo (now Sabah), while on an inspection tour for the St John Ambulance Brigade. Her body was flown back to England. In accordance with her wishes, she was buried at sea off the coast of Portsmouth from HMS Wakeful on February 25, 1960.
Lownie writes: “Dickie, in full admiral’s uniform, tears streaming down his face, gently kissed his all-white wreath and tossed it into the sea. A cable away on the Indian frigate the Trishul, Krishna Menon, Indian defence minister, dropped a farewell garland of marigolds from Nehru.”
Incidentally, Edwina’s letters to Nehru are with Sonia Gandhi and her family in India and remain strictly and possibly forever under lock and key.
WHEN Rishi Sunak became an MP, he swore his oath on a copy of the Bhagvad Gita, but few people – including perhaps Britain’s first Asian prime minister – will have been aware of the efforts of a Shropshire-born civil servant in that little moment of history.
Charles Wilkins (1749-1836) was an employee of the East India Company and an avid Sanskrit lover. He arrived in India and went on to study the language under scholars in then Benares (now Varanasi, which India’s prime minister Narendra Modi represents) and produced what is believed to be the first English translation of the holy Hindu text.
It made the Gita accessible not only to the British, but also millions of Indians, including Mahatma Gandhi, and years later, Sunak.
This is just one of the anecdotes Manu Pillai uncovers in his new book, Gods, Guns and Missionaries: The Making of the Modern Hindu Identity, published earlier this year.
Pillai traces the transformation of the religion over the past four centuries – from the arrival of early Europeans in the Indian subcontinent to British rulers and the rise of Indian leaders during the freedom movement – and examines the impact of those influences.
Manu Pillai
“Most of us look at Hindu identity today through the prism of Hindu-Muslim relations, because in the present, that is what became,” Pillai told Eastern Eye. “But to me, it seemed like a lot of modern Hinduism was actually influenced by colonialism and Christianity.”
Not so much in the way that missionaries converted millions of people, Pillai explained, as they “never had physical success in terms of numbers”, but “they had a lot of intellectual success in terms of placing these moulds and frameworks of thinking, which we took in order to articulate a modern avatar for Hinduism. So, I thought that story deserved to be told.”
This is his fifth book, which Pillai began in 2019, following a dissertation on Hindu nationalism at King’s College London. At the outset, he clarified the book is not about his academic thesis, rather it examines the impact of the early Portuguese, the Italians and other Europeans, then the East India Company, the British and finally, Indian reformers and politicians prior to and after independence.
Pillai said, “Hinduism is not a Western-style religion. It’s a cultural framework in which there’s multiple diversities. Think of it like a draw cabinet; it is the overall frame that is Hinduism. But each door has its own individual identity, as well.”
And , the cover of his new book
Pillai charts the influence of hardline Portuguese missionaries whose influence is evident in Goa even today, while in the south, an Italian priest, Roberto de Nobili, adopted the local Hindu ways in order to spread the teachings of Christianity.
The book also shows how British colonial rulers were initially reluctant to the push from missionaries in the UK to proselytise communities in the subcontinent, before eventually changing their minds. Reformers such as Serfoji and Raja Ram Mohan Roy adopted a more modern approach, followed by Dayananda Saraswati, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Jotiba Phule and Veer Savarkar, whose interpretation of Hinduism came at a time of India’s freedom struggle.
This intertwining of religion and politics is not new, though, Pillai said. History has shown how rulers patronised places of worship and this continues in contemporary times, too.
The writer described how Jawaharlal Nehru (independent India’s first prime minister) and “the Nehruvian elites made a conscious effort to keep religion out, but bubbling just beneath that first level, (but) religion was always present in politics. Caste was always present in politics.”
Pillai said, “It was Nehru’s charisma and electoral success that allowed him to keep it at bay or in check. But it was never absent. By Indira Gandhi’s time, she started playing the religious card as needed, whenever she felt her party could benefit from it.”
He added, “The difference is religion has now come much more centrestage and openly acknowledged.”
Pillai also noted how economic clout and technology have both played a part in the recent assertion of religious identity, the most obvious is the patronage of places of worship, while carrying out rituals under the guidance of a priest over a video link is now the norm.
In the book, he writes about how the spread of the English language in the subcontinent meant exposure to new ideas, thus empowering Indians to not only challenge authority, but also learn about the world outside their country.
“The British employ Indians who can speak English. They pay those Indians. Those Indians are getting cash revenue. They are no longer dependent just on their farms (to earn their living). They use that to patronise their community. They build temples,” Pillai said.
“So, ironically, the wealth created by service in the British East India Company ends up in the flowering of Hinduism. The railways, which the British laid to move their troops around, also enables pilgrim traffic to temples. “All of these things come together – technology, politics and economics.”
More recently, Pillai said Hindu resurgence “isn’t purely due to political dynamics”. His view is that with rising disposable income, “you have time to think about identity, and now you have money to patronise things.”
He cites the example of Kerala, where he is from, explain how remittances from the Gulf countries led to a boom in old family temples being renovated. “There is something culturally coded in organising a big puja, or making donations to a temple is seen as an a c h i e v e m e n t , weighing yourself in grain and donating to a temple.
“So that kind of religious identity also boomed with economic boom. It’s not as an economic boom creates some rational paradise. On the contrary, an economic boom can actually result in a greater flowering of religiosity.
“Partly because of that, post liberalisation (of India in the 1990s), there’s been a new middle class that’s emerged, there’s also now disposable income. People have the wherewithal to now think beyond roti, kapda, makaan (food, clothes and shelter), and to think about who are we as a people? And the answer to that question lies in religion, culture, heritage.”
India and south Asia’s vast diversity dictate the way Hinduism is practised, across not just the subcontinent, but also across the world, where the diaspora communities are settled. Consequently, this shapes the evolution of Hindu identity.
Pillai said the next challenge for Hinduism will be maintaining that inner diversity, “because we live in times where there’s so much emphasis on that homogenised identity, on one reading of that label, of what it means to be a Hindu.
“It takes away from how much pluralism there is within the faith itself. The richness of Indian culture, in general, has been the fact that all religions that have entered India have become pluralized, even if it’s Islam.
“Islam in Kerala is not the same as Islam in Bhopal. When the north Indian Muslims under the Muslim League, as I mention in the book, went to Kashmir in the 1940s hoping to woo the Kashmiri Muslims, they were horrified. They thought that Kashmiris, with their saint worship, and all of that were not even proper Muslims. They said, ‘we’ll have to teach them Islam first, before making them Muslims, because they couldn’t recognise that version of Islam. “Everything in India is hybridised, and in many ways, that has been our strength, these hybrid identities have continued over so many generations. “What would be a major challenge is this tendency towards homogenising… towards feeling there has to be only one version of Hinduism and one interpretation of things.
“Even our epics have so many retellings. In Kerala there is an oral kind of Ramayana, in which Shurpanakha, when she propositions Rama and says, ‘I want to marry you’. And he says, ‘No, I’m already married. You go to Lakshmana.’ Shurpanakha turns around and says, ‘That’s okay; the Sharia says you can marry twice, more than one woman.
“So this is a Ramayana in which Shurpanakha quotes the Sharia, because it’s a Muslim Ramayana.
“That is the kind of country we come from. And I think losing that, where everything has become standardised, and that’s a global phenomenon, something we’re seeing around the world. That is a tragedy. That would be the bigger challenge.
“We need more people telling these stories about our inner plural, pluralism and diversity – which is not to devalue that framework. The framework has its own value. I’m not saying that Hinduism should somehow be only about its pluralism, but at the same time, it has to be a fine balance between maintaining that inner richness, maintaining all the threads in the tapestry without painting the whole tapestry one single shade.”
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