‘The report was furnished by the District Magistrate, who was present at the time of the event.’
‘By “present” you mean that he ordered the mowing down of these unfortunate people, is that not so?’
L.N. Agarwal paused before answering:
‘The District Magistrate is a seasoned officer, who took whatever steps he considered the situation required. As the honourable member is aware, an inquiry under a more senior officer will shortly be made, as it is in all cases of an order to fire; and I suggest to her that we wait until such time as the report is published before we give vent to speculation.’
‘Speculation?’ burst out Begum Abida Khan. ‘Speculation? Do you call this speculation? You should be — the honourable Minister’—she emphasized the word maananiya or honourable—‘the honourable Minister should be ashamed of himself. I have seen the corpses of two men with these very eyes. I am not speculating. If it were the blood of his own co-religionists that was flowing in the streets, the honourable Minister would not “wait until such time”. We know of the overt and tacit support he gives that foul organization the Linga Rakshak Samiti, set up expressly to destroy the sanctity of our mosque—’
The House was getting increasingly excited under her oratory, inappropriate though it may have been. L.N. Agarwal was grasping his curve of grey hair with his right hand, tense as a claw, and — having cast his calm demeanour to the winds — was glaring at her at every scornful ‘honourable’. The frail-looking Speaker made another attempt to stem the flow:
‘The honourable member may perhaps need reminding that according to my Question List, she has three starred questions remaining.’
‘I thank you, Sir,’ said Begum Abida Khan. ‘I shall come to them. In fact I shall ask the next one immediately. It is very germane to the subject. Will the honourable Minister of Home Affairs inform us whether prior to the firings in Chowk a warning to disperse was read out under Section 144 of the Criminal Procedure Code? If so, when? If not, why not?’
Brutally and angrily L.N. Agarwal replied:
‘It was not. It could not have been. There was no time to do so. If people start riots for religious reasons and attempt to destroy temples they must accept the consequences. Or mosques, of course, for that matter—’
But now Begum Abida Khan was almost shouting. ‘Riot? Riot? How does the honourable Minister come to the conclusion that that was the intention of the crowd? It was the time of evening prayer. They were proceeding to the mosque—’
‘From all reports, it was obvious. They were rushing forward violently, shouting with their accustomed zealotry, and brandishing weapons,’ said the Home Minister.
There was uproar.
A member of the Socialist Party cried: ‘Was the honourable Minister present?’
A member of the Congress Party said: ‘He can’t be everywhere.’
‘But this was brutal,’ shouted someone else. ‘They fired at point-blank range.’
‘Honourable members are reminded that the Minister is to answer his own questions,’ cried the Speaker.
‘I thank you, Sir—’ began the Home Minister. But to his utter amazement and, indeed, horror, a Muslim member of the Congress Party, Abdus Salaam, who happened also to be Parliamentary Secretary to the Revenue Minister, now rose to ask: ‘How could such a grave step — an order to fire — have been taken without either giving due warning to disperse or attempting to ascertain the intention of the crowd?’
That Abdus Salaam should have risen to his feet shocked the House. In a sense it was not clear where he was addressing the question — he was looking at an indeterminate point somewhere to the right of the great seal of Purva Pradesh above the Speaker’s chair. He seemed, in fact, to be thinking aloud. He was a scholarly young man, known particularly for his excellent understanding of land tenure law, and was one of the chief architects of the Purva Pradesh Zamindari Abolition Bill. That he should make common cause with a leader of the Democratic Party — the party of the zamindars — on this issue, stunned members of all parties. Mahesh Kapoor himself was surprised at this intervention by his Parliamentary Secretary and turned around with a frown, not entirely pleased. The Chief Minister scowled. L.N. Agarwal was gripped with outrage and humiliation. Several members of the House were on their feet, waving their order papers, and no one, not even the Speaker, could be clearly heard. It was becoming a free-for-all.
When, after repeated thumps of the Speaker’s gavel, a semblance of order was restored, the Home Minister, though still in shock, rose to ask:
‘May I know, Sir, whether a Parliamentary Secretary to a Minister is authorized to put questions to Government?’
Abdus Salaam, looking around in bewilderment, amazed by the furore he had unwittingly caused, said: ‘I withdraw.’
But now there were cries of: ‘No, no!’ ‘How can you do that?’ and ‘If you won’t ask it, I will.’
The Speaker sighed.
‘As far as procedure is concerned, every member is at liberty to put questions,’ he ruled.
‘Why then?’ asked a member angrily. ‘Why was it done? Will the honourable Minister answer or not?’
‘I did not catch the question,’ said L.N. Agarwal. ‘I believe it has been withdrawn.’
‘I am asking, like the other member, why no one found out what the crowd wanted? How did the DM know it was violent?’ repeated the member.
‘There should be an adjournment motion on this,’ cried another.
‘The Speaker already has such a notice with him,’ said a third.
Over all this rose the piercing voice of Begum Abida Khan: ‘It was as brutal as the violence of Partition. A youth was killed who was not even part of the demonstration. Would the honourable Minister for Home Affairs care to explain how this happened?’ She sat down and glared.
‘Demonstration?’ said L.N. Agarwal with an air of forensic triumph.
‘Crowd, rather—’ said the battling Begum, leaping up again and slipping out of his coils. ‘You are not going to deny, surely, that it was the time of prayer? The demonstration — the demonstration of gross inhumanity, for that is what it was — was on the part of the police. Now will the honourable Minister not take refuge in semantics and deal with the facts.’
When he saw the wretched woman get up again, the Home Minister felt a stab of hatred in his heart. She was a thorn in his flesh and had insulted and humiliated him before the House and he now decided that, come what may, he was going to get back at her and her house — the family of the Nawab Sahib of Baitar. They were all fanatics, these Muslims, who appeared not to realize they were here in this country on sufferance. A calm dose of well-applied law would do them good.
‘I can only answer one question at a time,’ L.N. Agarwal said in a dangerous growl.
‘The supplementary questions of the honourable member who asked the starred questions will take precedence,’ said the Speaker.
Begum Abida Khan smiled grimly.
The Home Minister said: ‘We must wait till the report is published. Government is not aware that an innocent youth was fired upon, let alone injured or killed.’
Now Abdus Salaam stood up again. From around the House outraged cries rose: ‘Sit down, sit down.’ ‘Shame!’ ‘Why are you attacking your own side?’
‘Why should he sit down?’ ‘What have you got to hide?’ ‘You are a Congress member — you should know better.’
But so unprecedented was the situation that even those who opposed his intervention were curious.
When the cries had died down to a sort of volatile muttering, Abdus Salaam, still looking rather puzzled, asked: ‘What I have been wondering about during the course of this discussion is, well, why was a deterrent police force — well, maybe just an adequate police force — not maintained at the site of the temple? Then there would have been no need to fire in this panicky manner.’