One of Those Weeks

Not since the proud midnight twelve years ago when he became Prime Minister of newly independent India had Jawaharlal Nehru, 69, gone through such black times.

Wherever Nehru turned last week, India was in difficulties, and he was held ultimately responsible. On his nation's northern frontier, Red Chinese invaders made a mockery of his cherished ideal of peaceful coexistence with Peking, and rumors flew of continued bloody skirmishes between Chinese and Indian patrols. In Calcutta, India's largest city (pop. 4,000,000), Communist-led food riots raged into their fifth day as howling mobs stoned the police, burned ambulances, sacked food stores and police stations. By week's end 27 rioters had been shot dead, and only the arrival of Indian army troops restored peace to the city.

Even nature seemed to turn against Nehru; floodwaters swept down on the powerhouse of Bhakra Dam, showpiece of India's economic-development program, whose 740-ft. wall, when completed, will make it one of the world's highest. As they sought to stave off ruin, U.S. Builder Harvey Slocum and Indian engineers blamed each other for the catastrophe.

And from the Misamari refugee camp in the steaming jungles of Assam came bitter complaints of Indian neglect in the care of thousands of Tibetans who had fled the Red Chinese terror in their homeland. The refugees were reportedly crowded as many as 60 to a room, suffering from malnutrition, infected sores, malarial fevers and systematic looting by rapacious guards. Some had even given up in despair and returned to Communist-run Tibet.

With these charges ringing in his ears, Nehru had a meeting in New Delhi with Tibet's exiled Dalai Lama, who gently but firmly insisted on taking his country's case to the United Nations even though Nehru's government refused to sponsor or support him.

Coldly Cruel. The worst furor of all broke when the New Delhi Statesman headlined the shocking news that India's popular and able army chief of staff, General K. S. Thimayya, had handed in his resignation. The reason: months of incessant bickering, especially about promotions in the armed forces, between Thimayya and the civilian Minister of Defense, crotchety, Mephistophelean Krishna Menon.

Press and public opinion erupted. Krishna Menon, 62, is so oblivious of his own mistakes and so coldly cruel about the mistakes of others that even his well-wishers frequently find him intolerable. The fact that he had apparently precipitated strife in the high command at a time when India might be facing battle with Red China set off loud demands that he be sacked. The Hindustan Times proclaimed: "Krishna Menon must go!" The Indian Express called Menon "preeminently the guilty man."

When Nehru rose in Parliament to make his statement, the House was packed, hushed and expectant. But the M.P.s quickly discovered that, in one thing, the Prime Minister is completely predictable: he stands by his friends, no matter what. The uproar in the armed forces, said Nehru airily, was a trifling matter concerning the promotion of a single unnamed major general to the rank of lieutenant general. Under the circumstances, he said, Thimayya's resignation "seemed to me not the right thing at all. I advised him to withdraw it, and he accepted my advice." Then, as M.P.s sputtered and Krishna Menon leaned back comfortably, his legs crossed and his silver mane cushioned on a green upholstered bench, Nehru concluded with a ringing tribute to Menon's "great energy and enthusiasm." He did not bother to explain why, in the midst of the worst military crisis in Indian history, he still planned to send Menon off to New York to employ his great energy as head of India's U.N. delegation.

Pale & Haggard. The week's events did not augur well for Nehru's interview at New Delhi airport with General Mohammed Ayub Khan, the strongman leader of Pakistan, which used to be the only nation that Indian leaders could be said to hate, and the only one--until Red China --that independent India had fought. The two heads of state discussed "matters of mutual interest" for nearly two hours, and parted with a great show of amity. Said General Ayub: "I, as a military man, can foresee one danger, and that is, if we go on squabbling in this way and do not resolve our problems, we shall be defeated in detail. History tells us this is how invasions have always come to this subcontinent." Nehru said nothing for the record, but reporters noted that when he arrived in his black Cadillac, he looked pale and haggard, and his heavy-lidded eyes suggested a sleepless night. When he left, he seemed far happier and brighter. It was the one grace note in a week of sour discord.

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