Delhi – Constituent Assembly Hall – 12th February 1949
Things have been relatively calm in the recent few weeks in India, something which was not exactly common, given the chaotic few months that India had to undergo. And just when it seemed nothing out of the ordinary will happen, Prime Minister Arjun Mehra dropped his next bombshell.
The Constituent Assembly buzzed with energy after adopting India's Constitution weeks earlier, but now they faced something far more contentious. Law Minister K.M. Munshi quietly introduced the draft of Uniform Civil Code, and the hall erupted.
A single civil code to override centuries of personal law? The very idea sent shockwaves through delegates. The minority ministers in Congress, who were basically just present as ceremonial ministers and held little to no power to make any change, joined in to oppose the bill, or at least some clauses of it.
Even the hardliners from the Bharatiya Janata Dal (BJD) genuinely joined the chorus. Though they were less than a handful in number.
Arjun sat in the front row, stone-faced as the drama unfolded. Sardar Patel beside him radiated that quiet menace that kept order in check. Munshi had warned about backlash, but Arjun wasn't backing down. This was his vision of unified India taking shape, one law at a time.
One of the most opposed clause was that of the blanket ban on polygamy, across all communities. Sure, it would slow population growth, but that struck Arjun as a feature, not a bug. It was better to have controlled growth than the unwieldy masses that came with unrestrained expansion.
Munshi rose to present the bill, his lawyer's precision cutting through the chaos. "Mr. President, distinguished delegates," his voice carried clearly, "this Uniform Civil Code delivers on our Constitution's promise of equality. Its cornerstone is simple: no citizen, regardless of faith, may marry more than one living spouse. This protects women's dignity across all communities."
The Muslim delegates exploded. Chairs scraped as they jumped to their feet, shouting over each other.
"This is religious persecution!" one roared, face crimson with rage. "You're attacking divine law itself! Where's the religious freedom your Constitution promised?"
A Protestant Christian joined the fray. "Marriage is sacred and indissoluble for us! This bill forces divorce on communities that reject it. Government has no business dictating our most sacred beliefs!"
Then came the curveball. A respected Hindu scholar from Uttar Pradesh stood from the BJD benches, his scholarly authority commanding attention.
"Mr. President, marriage is a sanskar, a sacred sacrament, not some contract for any bureaucrats to regulate. Banning polygamy, however rarely practiced in our community, means legislating our scriptures. The state has crossed a line it should never cross."
His argument focused on principle rather than polygamy itself and struck home with conservative Hindus. Several BJD delegates nodded along, creating an unlikely alliance against the bill.
Not that it would really matter.
Munshi weathered each storm with Arjun's unwavering backing. The code would standardize marriage, divorce, inheritance, adoption, and maintenance nationwide while replacing legal chaos with clarity. "This is about justice and equal treatment for every citizen under one law."
But opposition kept mounting from every corner. Delegate after delegate rose with passionate defenses of ancient traditions, each fearing state overreach into their sacred customs.
Arjun listened with apparent calm although every argument was expected. His countermoves were already in motion. The Bureau of National Ideology had scholars from all faiths quietly pushing "modernization within tradition" narratives.
And the Intelligence Bureau watched for potential troublemakers although post-purge options seemed limited.
National Publicity Unit also stood ready with reports celebrating women's rights and national unity, while major newspapers would soon run editorials praising governmental courage while dismissing traditionalist concerns as backward thinking.
Dr. B.R. Ambedkar's intervention proved crucial. He framed the polygamy ban as social justice and women's emancipation because these were causes he'd championed his entire life. His constitutional arguments gave progressive cover to the controversial measure.
V.D. Savarkar eventually rose to back the code despite party concerns, calling it essential for national integration and women's rights. Most of his conservative base bought the argument, but not everyone fell in line.
Indira Gandhi sat quietly among the BJD members, sharp eyes tracking every exchange. When recognized, her voice cut through the din with surgical precision.
She didn't attack the polygamy ban directly because that was too risky. Instead, she questioned the broader philosophy.
"Mr. President, while equality matters, we must consider India's rich communal heritage. How do we balance uniformity with deeply held customs? Does national unity require imposing single rules on all, or might communities evolve their practices naturally, at their own pace?"
Respectful on the surface, her words carried deeper implications about centralized social engineering. It was a sophisticated challenge to Arjun's methods, appealing to pluralistic visions of Indian identity that his government was systematically crushing.
Arjun's expression never changed. Indira's intervention was expected as the kind of sophisticated dissent that wouldn't derail the vote but might plant dangerous seeds of doubt.
The debates revealed fascinating new fault lines. Conservative Muslims, Christians, and Hindus found common ground defending religious autonomy against state interference.
Progressive voices across communities rallied behind women's equality and national integration. Colonial-era divisions were giving way to ideological realignments.
Some pushed for gradual reform over sudden change. Others argued that decisive action was needed before entrenched interests blocked progress forever.
Unity versus diversity, progress versus tradition represented the eternal tensions of Indian society playing out in every speech.
And after four days of passionate debate, the vote came on February 15th, 1949. The Uniform Civil Code passed by a substantial margin, though significant opposition voices were heard and recorded for posterity.
Implementation would begin in three months to allow time for administrative preparation and public education campaigns that would smooth the transition.
Arjun watched the tally with quiet satisfaction. The legal framework for his unified society was in place. The Constitution wasn't just political theater; it was a blueprint for social transformation, where state will would reach into citizens' most intimate lives.
As delegates filed out, urgent whispered conversations continued in the corridors. Some celebrated victory for women's rights and national unity. Others worried about precedents for state interference in religious matters.
The divide was definitely present, but one thing was pretty clear now. And that was that India was becoming one nation under one law, forged by unwavering resolve and marching toward a future designed with careful planning.
[A/N: I will release the extra chapter tomorrow]