Part 009 - PAMPHLET 001 009

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A quick lunch, and off again. I visited the dock, jute and engineer- ing and ship repair areas. It was dreadful. First, we stopped at the Indian Seamen's Union offices. Then to the "hostels" where Indian seamen waiting to be taken on for a ship are supposed to live. Never in my wildest experience of slum conditions have I seen any- thing like it. You won't believe me if I attempt to describe it, but I will just say this as a general remark. The worst slum in Britain is a paradise compared with the best conditions the mass of the workers of Calcutta have to live in. And this is true of seamen, engineers, jute and textile workers. Human beings with hearts that can beat and minds that can think were never meant to live in such conditions. After seeing the seamen's "homes," although I went through every street and area of the working-class areas of Calcutta, I just could not get out of the car and go into any more "houses." What I saw from the outside was enough. Oh, shades of the P. and O., the British-India Shipping Company, the jute millionaires who have made their ill-gotten gains out of this squalor and misery, this shameful poverty and degradation; there is blood and infamy on every penny of the profits you have extorted from the cheap labour of the Indian working class. There are rich and poor in every capitalist city. There are West Ends and East Ends in every capitalist city. But surely to whatever gods there may be, there cannot be any greater contrast between the two than here in Calcutta! The most depraved human being in Britain would not keep a dog under such conditions. Feeling like nothing on earth after such sights—back to the other Calcutta. The neon lights. The great palaces. The posh hotels. The boulevards, the lovely parks and lakes—and studded everywhere, monuments to such creatures as Lord Canning, streets named after the arch-robber Sir Robert Clive, and the memorial to Queen Vic- toria, a cheap imitation of the Taj Mahal. This is where I really wanted to spew in utter disgust. A late meal in an hotel patronised by the British citizens still making money out of the exploitation of the Indian working people. They are all in evening dress. There is only one thing I wish I could do to them. Not murder, not violence. Only just go and make them eat and sleep in the conditions of the working people who live in the other Calcutta. My only consolation is that this pack of parasites will be driven out of India, as surely as the British rulers who exercised their com- plete domination of India have already been thrown out. December 22. UP at 4 a.m. Funny how you cannot sleep however late you go to bed when next morning you know you have to catch a plane at some unearthly hour. 16 Through Calcutta streets. I wonder exactly how many human beings in Calcutta sleep in the streets. There must be thousands. It is pitiful to see them stretched out this way and that. No one seems to take the slightest notice of something that is a great shock to me. I suppose, having seen it in every city I have been in, I should have begun to get used to it. But I can't. It shocks me. And when, as I have seen, large rats move in and about these pavements, those who know me best will know how I feel. We board the plane and we're off. A lovely sunrise—and then I fall asleep. First stop is Nagpur at 10 a.m. We got there dead on time to wait for the plane from Delhi to Madras. When it comes in, one of Noel Coward's "Mad dogs of Englishmen" gets off, meets another of the same breed, and they get talking. Now I am no eavesdropper, as anyone can tell you, but they talk in the Oxford accent, so loud and so unmistakable that you cannot help hearing what is being said. It goes like this: "Nice to be on terra firma. Never feel sure until I am. Very hot, don't you think?" "Have you read Pollitt's speeches? Why the devil did they let the fellow in? Wonder what he is up to?" I never batted an eyelid. Then came the call. "Passengers for Hyderabad and Madras please take their seats." As far as I have been able to see it has all been very flat country we have flown over. Then we are going down and the Hyderabad Aerodrome is in sight. The nearer we get, the clearer becomes the spectacle of red and blue flags. You know what the red stands for, and the blue is for Peace. The "mad dogs" have also seen this sight, and they exchange glances as much as to say: "My God. He must be with us!" He was. He got down, and at once was surrounded by comrades, flags and flowers. I was informed that I was being housed in the State of Hyderabad Government Guest House. I had an excellent lunch and a couple of hours shut-eye. Then off to a public meeting. I have previously remarked how in the most squalid villages the women seemed to rebel against it by the colours of their saris, which were mostly of red and gold. But here in Hyderabad they took on the most beautiful and varied colours. When I remarked on it I was told in very proud tones: "We pride ourselves on our colours; we make the fabrics here, and we dye them ourselves." At last we arrived at the hall where the meeting was to take place. I tried to do what was expected. At the end I was garlanded by a young comrade who, as he mounted the platform, was received with great applause. It turned out he was 18 years of age, had been sentenced to death for having been allegedly concerned in the disturbances which shook 17