Part 007 - PAMPHLET 001 007

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A glorious sight met our eyes as the sun poured its rays all round the Taj Mahal, which we went all over again. Rightly described as one of the Seven Wonders of the World, it deserves such a description. It was built by Emperor Shah Jahan as an immortal tribute to his beloved wife. It was built of pure white marble, and when the sun is shining it dazzles the eyes to look at it. We couldn't stay any longer. We had to visit Fort Agra. Another exciting experience. A gigantic fort inside of which are several won- derful palaces. We hadn't time to take it all in. We were ponder- ing over this and that as we stood in the royal harem of one of these magnificent palaces. Suddenly I heard a noise, saw four youths gesticulating and giving the salute we knew so well in the days of the Spanish Civil War. They ran up to me, and before I knew where I was I was garlanded four times in the royal harem. But it's time to be off to Delhi. As we left the Agra Fort and emerged outside, it was to be greeted with cries of "Long Live Harry Pollitt!" which prompted a pedlar of souvenirs to reduce his price for his articles from 1s. 6d. to 1d. Into the Land Rover jeep once more. How different to travel through the countryside in darkness and in daylight! Never did I think such poverty existed! You can read the dry statistics, you can read words, you can try to imagine what it is like. But you have to see the poverty, the people, the houses they live in before this awful soul-searing poverty can make you understand the actual reality of the situation. It drove me into depression. I tried to think of what I would do if my people had to endure such conditions. The bitterness of thought, the hatred of the rich landlords and moneylenders, was profound in the extreme. The whole scene as we passed through village after village, was only relieved by the colourful and gay dresses of the peasant women, who seemed in this manner to be hurling defiance and a challenge to the whole of their ghastly squalid surroundings. We passed caravans drawn by bullocks and camels. We saw hun- dreds of monkeys and parrots. We passed a field where hundreds of vultures were to be seen. They seemed to be saying, "We'll get you all yet for your folly in tolerating such conditions!" At 5 o'clock we were back at the hotel. A wash and brush up, and then off to address a demonstration in Old Delhi. What a demonstration—and what a galaxy of pressmen! It is a huge field, right in front of Delhi's famous mosque. It is quite dark, but a full moon. Thousands and thousands of people are squatting in front of the platform and standing as far as the eye can see. I am garlanded by various Delhi democratic organisations, and then I receive one which I shall wear at our own Party congress. 12 It is the loveliest thing I have ever seen in my life and was presented by the Delhi district committee of the Party. I keep writing "What a day!", and so I must write it again, I have seen the Taj Mahal, the Agra Fort, where I noticed a tribute to Mr. John Strachey for his care of Indian culture. I have seen the Oulab Minar, and bullocks, monkeys, parrots, performing bears, vultures, camels, little donkeys carrying great loads. But later this morning I had the greatest thrill of all. And that is quite another story. December 20. I WAS leaving the hotel in Delhi this morning, and going down the stairs met the inevitable Scotsman. "Well, I'm blowed, fancy seeing you here, Harry! You don't re- member me, do you?" I looked a little, then replied: "Yes, you stayed in Jean Cowe's house in Scott Street, Glasgow, when Randall Swingler and I stayed there, when Malcolm McEwen fought a by-election in Dumbarton." "Right first time, Harry—all the best!" Then off to the Delhi aerodrome in that Land Rover. The driver is a Sikh comrade who fought with the British Army in Italy during the Second World War. He was chosen to take part in the Victory Parade in London in 1946, but his political opinions became known and that finished it. But what a driver! What he can make that Land Rover do is nobody's business. Left Delhi Airport at 8.15 a.m. and after a pleasant journey touched down at Calcutta Airport at 12.15 p.m. What a sight met our eyes! There were hundreds of Red Flags, and thousands of the working people of Calcutta waiting to greet me. Just one seething mass took hold of me as soon as I put my feet on the tarmac. I was garlanded until I lost count. At one time in the proceedings I could not see an inch before me. The car started, but after about 15 minutes a cry went up, and another crowd of people blocked the road completely. Poor people, their poverty stuck out a mile. They were refugees from East Pakistan. They brought their flowers and garlands, women and little children offering up a single flower. I was crying, and it's no use making any bones about it. I noticed the appalling conditions they were living under, and I shall look upon their floral tributes to me as one of my most precious memories. The weather was very warm and what with all the garlands, the heat and excitement, I felt almost all-in. But arriving at the hotel, a bath, forty winks, and at 3.30 p.m. I was ready for anything— and I was soon to have it in plenty. A number of the comrades came to discuss the demonstration I 13