Free kindle book and epub digitized and proofread by Project Gutenberg. Indian Summer by William Dean Howells. No cover available. (DOWNLOAD) Indian Summer The Secret History of the End of an Empire By Alex A fascinating book that may well change how we look on the Indian Summer_ The Secret History of the - Tunzelmann, Alex lesforgesdessalles.info M. lesforgesdessalles.info - Buy Indian Summer: The Secret History Of The End Of An Empire book online at best prices in India on lesforgesdessalles.info Read Indian Summer: The.
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The focus of the book, Indian Summer, is mainly on five persons, namely, Lord Mountbatten, Edwina Mountbatten, Jawaharlal Nehru,. Mohandas Karamchand. Indian Summer- The Secret History of the End of an Empire. Home · Indian Summer- The Secret History of the End of an Empire. Indian summer Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files. IN COLLECTIONS. Books to Borrow · Books for People with Print Disabilities.
Von Tunzelmann down and, slowly, picking it up again. The Indian Summer is based on dissecting and researching deep into the true personalities and personal lives of Mountbatten and Jawahar lal Nehru in the backdrop of Indian Independence movement, giving an microscopic and magnified version of the last few months on the British Raj in India. It was his mother's hometown and a place where he had spent much of his childhood. I look forward to reading more by this author. Tell us what you like, so we can send you books you'll love.
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December edited December in Miscellaneous. A fascinating book that may well change how we look on the benighted world in which we live today.
December edited December Good book. Don't think I don't know how this might end. I've known it for years. Sign In or Join to comment. Categories Recent Discussions. At ForumIAS, we have a dream. Our dream is to make its members achieve their IAS dream. In current affairs reading Editorials Online needs an in-depth focus and hence we provide a separate analysis of daily editorials which is not found in any other website.
A history of the separation of India from the British Empire looks at the events and personalities involved, detailing the chaos that followed the separation as well as the secret love affair between Indian prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru and EdwinaMountbatten.
The Secret History of the End of an Empire probes the behind- the-scenes politicking — and the secret love affair — that facilitated Britain's handover of power in India 60 years ago.
Book excerpts are provided by the publisher and may contain language some find offensive. It gave up. The British Empire did not decline, it simply fell; and it fell proudly and majestically onto its own sword. It was not forced out by revolution, nor defeated by a greater rival in battle. Its leaders did not tire or weaken. Its culture was strong and vibrant. Recently it had been victorious in the century's definitive war. When midnight struck in Delhi on the night of 14 August , a new, free Indian nation was born.
In London, the time was 8: The Constituent Assembly of India was convened at that moment in New Delhi, a monument to the self-confidence of the British government, which had built its eastern capital on the site of seven fallen cities.
Each of the seven had been built to last forever. And so was New Delhi, a colossal arrangement of sandstone neoclassicism and wide boulevards lined with banyan trees.
Seen from the sky, the interlocking series of avenues and roundabouts formed a pattern like the marble trellises of geometric stars that ventilated Mogul palaces. New Delhi was India, but constructed--and, they thought, improved upon--by the British. The French prime minister, Georges Clemenceau, had laughed when he saw the new city half built in , and observed: Yet amid all the power and finery, two persons were conspicuous by their absence.
One was Mohammad Ali Jinnah, the leader of the Muslim League, who was in one of those parts of the empire that had just become Pakistan. His absence signified the partition of the subcontinent, the split which had ripped two wings off the body of India and called them West and East Pakistan later Pakistan and Bangladesh , creating Muslim homelands separate from the predominantly Hindu mass of the territory. The other truant was Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, who was sound asleep in a smashed-up mansion in a riot-torn suburb of Calcutta.
Gandhi's absence was a worrying omen. The seventy-seven-year-old Mahatma, or "great soul," was the most famous and the most popular Indian since Buddha. Regarded as little short of a saint among Christians as well as Hindus, he had been a staunch defender of the British Empire until the s.
Since then, he had campaigned for Indian self-rule. Many times it had been almost within his grasp: Each time he had let it go. Now, finally, India was free, but that had nothing to do with Gandhi--and Gandhi would have nothing to do with it. In the chamber the dignitaries fell silent as the foremost among them, Jawaharlal Nehru, stepped up to make one of the most famous speeches in history.
At fifty-seven years old, Nehru had grown into his role as India's leading statesman. His last prison term had finished exactly twenty-six months before. The fair skin and fine bone structure of an aristocratic Kashmiri Brahmin was rendered approachable by a ready smile and warm laugh.
Dark, sleepy, soulful eyes belied a quick wit and quicker temper. In him were all the virtues of the ancient nation, filtered through the best aspects of the British Empire: And now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge; not wholly or in full measure, but substantially.
At the stroke of the midnight hour, while the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom.
The reverential mood in the hall was broken abruptly by an unexpected honk from the back. The dignitaries jerked their heads around to the source of the sound, and a look of relief passed over their faces as they saw a devout Hindu member of the assembly blowing into a conch shell--an invocation of the gods.
Mildred Talbot, a journalist who was present, noticed that the interruption had not daunted the new prime minister. A few hours before, he had received a telephone call from Lahore in what was about to become West Pakistan. It was his mother's hometown and a place where he had spent much of his childhood. Gangs of Muslims and Sikhs had clashed in the streets.
The main gurdwara--the Sikh temple--was ablaze. One hundred thousand people were trapped inside the city walls without water or medical assistance. Violence was a much-predicted consequence of the handover, but preparations for dealing with it had been catastrophically inadequate. The only help available in Lahore was from two hundred Gurkhas, stationed nearby, under the command of an inexperienced British captain who was only twenty years old. They had little chance of stopping the carnage.
The horror of that night in Lahore set the tone for weeks of bloodshed and destruction. Perhaps the Hindu astrologers had been right when they had declared 14 August to be an inauspicious date.
Or perhaps the viceroy's curious decision to rush independence through ten months ahead of the British government's schedule was to blame. Emerging into the streets of Delhi, Nehru was greeted by the ringing of temple bells, the bangs and squeals of fireworks and the happy shouting of crowds. Guns were fired, in celebration rather than in anger; an effigy of British imperialism was burned, in both.
Tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, he had a brilliant Hollywood smile, easy wit and immediate charm; it might never have been guessed that he had been born a prince were it not for his ability to switch to a regal demeanor. The new earl and his countess, Edwina, had kept an appropriate distance from the festivities. While freedom was declared, the couple had spent the night at home, pottering around their palace and helping the servants tidy away anything marked with an imperial emblem.
It was a pastiche of the fashionable noir genre: No more than a handful of those in the Viceroy's House that evening could have realized what a very apposite choice of film it was. While Nehru had been declaring his nation's independence and worrying about the emerging crisis in Lahore, Mountbatten had been sitting in his study alone, thinking to himself, as he later recollected, "For still a few minutes I am the most powerful man on earth.
It was an act epitomizing Mountbatten's character. Kingmaking was his favorite sport.
Two minutes later, and the power had vanished. Nehru and Prasad were greeted by the viceroy's wife, Edwina Mountbatten, in lively form despite the lateness of the hour.
Vivacious, chic and slim, at forty-five Edwina was still in her prime. Her position as one of the world's richest women had never made her happy.