Challenges to the Master

Hot and grumpy was Jawaharlal Nehru last week. It was the temper-trying month before the monsoon, and the rains that had brought floods to the Brahmaputra Valley had not yet brought relief to New Delhi. In the dusty streets, bullocks steamed and lepers drowsed beside their begging bowls; in his office, a peevish Prime Minister grumbled about curdled milk, loudly complained about a badly designed public building, ticked off a Hindi language enthusiast in testy Hindi, finally flounced off for an hour's relaxation at a private screening of Danny Kaye's Knock on Wood.

More than the prickly heat was worrying Pandit Nehru. He was vexed about Goa, because the "inevitable historical process" of taking over this Portuguese colonial remnant had gone awry; the Goans had not risen up, as expected, to demand liberation, and Nehru had been made to look foolish. Nehru was also annoyed by his Minister of Labor who resigned from the Cabinet because Nehru had arbitrarily overruled the Labor Tribunal. But above all, Nehru showed telltale signs of jealousy. For one thing, Attlee & Co. Ltd. (of Great Britain) had poached on his position as No. 1 interpreter to the world of Chinese Communist behavior. For another, Red China's Prime Minister Chou En-lai has of late been displaying a Nehru-slighting tendency to pose as the No. 1 Asian. Beware of "Communist professions," Nehru told a student group. "China often says corruption has been eliminated, but China continues to publish the names of people executed for corruption."

Philosophy in the Rain. At midweek, Nehru collected an escort of Indian M.P.s and flew in an air force Dakota (DC-3) over the flood-devastated provinces of Bihar, West Bengal and Assam. Hundreds had drowned; scores of thousands were homeless in an area almost the size of South Carolina. Later, from a low-flying helicopter, Nehru saw the levees disintegrate and the river roll over most of the tea city of Dibrugarh (pop. 23,000), in the hills of Assam. Back on land, he shook off his nervous aides and went striding across rickety bamboo bridges to watch sawmills, temples, schools and homes collapse and vanish into the muddy torrent. Once a great mass of earth crashed down only 20 feet from him, but Nehru was unhurt.

Soaked by the rain, Nehru gave his blessing to thousands of wretched peasants. Then pausing, he began to philosophize. He still seemed mesmerized by thoughts of Chou En-lai and Mao. "If China could build a 1,000-mile canal in 80 days using her vast manpower, there is no reason why it cannot be done here ... I want to try the Chinese method." Meanwhile, Nehru told his dripping audience, Indians should remember that the "river is life." He left them with an obscure parable: "Though a river causes great devastation, it cannot be construed as an enemy."

Challenge in Manila. Back in drought-ridden Delhi, Nehru explained that his parable referred to the Chinese Communists, whom he compared with a "river of history." "One cannot stop a river, though one can build a canal," he told the Indian Press Association. "One should not try to dam it."

In Nehru's angry view, that was what the U.S. and its partners were trying to do by signing the Manila Pact, which is another significant challenge to Nehru's claim to be the Voice of Asia. The Manila treaty, complained Nehru, is forcing protection on "countries that do not want to be protected."

On Oct. 16, Nehru and his only daughter, Indira Gandhi (36) will fly to Peking as guests of Chou Enlai. But, of course, the look of neutrality would be scrupulously preserved. While Nehru is in China, India's Vice President Radhakrishnan will be presenting an ivory gavel, carved from an Indian elephant's tusk, to the U.S. Senate. The Senate's gavel, in use since the days of the first Vice President, John Adams, was recently broken by hard-gaveling Richard Nixon. India offers to replace it as "a symbolic gesture of friendship towards the U.S."

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