advertisement
“Hindsight comes unshaded by rose-coloured glasses… Distance lends detachment, allowing us to add tones to an earlier black and white,” points out Bachi Karkaria in her book, In Hot Blood: The Nanavati Case That Shook India.
The distance is all of half a century and more as she re-tells the story of Commander Kawas Nanavati who shot dead his English wife Sylvia’s paramour with three swift bullets from a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver, requisitioned from his ship’s gunnery, on the sunny, humid day of April 27, 1959. And the tone Karkaria adds to the story is grey, digging up facts hitherto not conspicuous in the public domain.
The Nanavati trial, that took place for five dramatic years, moving from a jury system in the Sessions Court to the High Court and then Supreme Court, had an entire nation in thrall, with the vox populi worshipping him as a noble hero, egged on by the sensational tabloid Blitz, edited by a fellow Parsi, RK Karanjia. Karanjia went to great lengths to paint the dead lover, Prem Ahuja, a prosperous, Sindhi car dealer, as a villain who lured unsuspecting women into his bedroom. He and the team of defence lawyers projected the murder as one done during the course of a scuffle, in the heat of the moment, under grave provocation.
Jethmalani, now 90-plus, seasoned lawyer of cases fair and foul, tells Karkaria, “The burden of proving that the jury’s verdict was perverse was troubling (public pleader YV) Chandrachud. So I pointed out to him that the test of perversity does not apply if the judge has committed errors of law in his summing up to the jury. I drew up those six-seven errors.” After that the case was conducted with aplomb, and followed with bated breath by Nanavati’s increasing legion of supporters. Finally, the High Court judgement pronounced Nanavati guilty and sentenced him to rigorous imprisonment for life.
But clearly Nanavati’s supporters were not just the hysterical crowds that thronged the courts. A bright, promising officer of the Indian Navy, he had the full backing of his superiors as well as those in the corridors of power. The Governor of Bombay, preoccupied though he was with the imminent formation of Maharashtra and Gujarat, used his powers to suspend the sentence of the High Court till the appeal intended to be filed by Nanavati in the Supreme Court was disposed of!
Was it just that or was there more to it? Karkaria hints at larger issues. Nanavati was Menon’s defence attaché in the early 1950s at the Indian High Commission in London, and was one of his blue-eyed boys.
But the judiciary remained unmoved by all this clout, with the Supreme Court ruling that the order of the governor could operate only till the matter became sub judice in the Supreme Court. And so, despite his political patronage, Nanavati was escorted out of naval custody to the (in)famous Arthur Road jail where he was to bide time till his appeal was heard in the highest court of the land. The appeal was heard and dismissed. Did the promising officer of the Indian Navy, thereafter, spend a lifetime behind bars?
Amazingly no! His high-powered battery of lawyers applied for parole, on health grounds, and he was shifted to a bungalow in the restorative hill station of Lonavala, where he had visitors like Nani Palkhivala and even Hollywood star Vivien Leigh. So did he then spend the rest of his life in the salubrious climes of a hill station, stripped of his uniform but still highly regarded?
The shrewd legal brain did so, on the condition that an elderly Sindhi gentleman, languishing in jail, on a false case of cheating, also be granted pardon by the Maharashtra Governor, Vijay Lakshmi Pandit. Thus, the Sindhi community was placated while the Parsis were euphoric.
“In this way,” points out Karkaria, “a life sentence is lifted in under three years…”
The Parsi community, too, rallied round him with industrialist JRD Tata giving him a job in the new country.
As the Nanavatis melted into a faraway country, the high-octane courtroom drama came to an end here. But, periodically, it is brought alive through films made on the subject and occasional books. What Karkaria has attempted, in her version, is deconstruct the story, rid it of its clichés of unalloyed hero, unmitigated villain and unwitting victim, and, most important, reveal the backroom drama in which the most powerful political figures, naval top-brass and the brightest legal brains were involved.
(In Hot Blood: The Nanavati Case That Shook India by Bachi Karkaria is available in bookstores and on Juggernaut.)
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)