The main purpose of this civil service conference was, in plain terms, to raise money — to put into practice the mission that before the last drop of Indian blood is shed, the British Empire will never surrender.
No one objected to the idea. Most senior officials thought it wouldn't be hard to achieve, though the governors of Bombay Province and Bengal Province both said they wanted an explicit statement of support from the Congress Party.
Bengal, of course, needed no explanation: the Bengal Famine had ended barely two years earlier, and because of its proximity to Burma, the province would bear a heavy burden in supporting operations there. That required the backing of India's political elite — which meant Congress's cooperation.
Relations between British India and Congress were far from warm; the two sides watched and used each other constantly. As Bengal's governor, Burke, pointed out: "In fact, mutinies among Indian soldiers — though quickly suppressed — have been happening, and the trend is worrying."
Back in July 1942, Congress had formally demanded complete independence from the British authorities. Their resolution warned that if Britain refused, mass civil disobedience would break out. The Congress Working Committee's meeting in Bombay passed the "Quit India" resolution, launching the Quit India Movement. It began with peaceful demonstrations, rejection of British authority, and efforts to undermine the war effort — then escalated to widespread protests and calls for mass worker strikes.
Meanwhile, with the Japanese occupation of Burma threatening British India, many had been genuinely frightened. Eventually, however, the movement was suppressed.
"Alan, any trouble in Hyderabad?" Sir Barron turned to Alan Wilson, looking for good news.
"Sir Barron," Alan replied, rising to speak in a measured tone, "based on Hyderabad and the other princely states under my remit, their rulers remain strongly supportive of the Viceroy's office and British India's administration — without question. I believe most princely states are the same. They see British India as the guarantor of order in South Asia, unlike Congress or the Muslim League."
Barron nodded. Then John, the Resident in Junagadh, stood to say, "Junagadh and the other western coastal states are likewise calm — far more so than areas where Congress has built influence."
"Then things aren't so bad," Barron said, before his brow furrowed again. "But there's another problem — it hasn't happened yet, but we must be ready. The Viceroy expects us to have an answer. How do we deal with the Indian National Army?"
A heavy silence fell. Victory was in sight, but the postwar questions were only getting trickier. The Indian National Army (INA), created by Subhas Chandra Bose, had started with British Indian Army POWs captured by the Axis, then grew with volunteers from Japanese-controlled Malaya and Burma.
Its goal was to free India from British rule — and during the Japanese occupation of Burma, it had fought alongside them against British Indian forces, most famously in the Battle of Imphal.
Though Bose had sided with the Axis, he would later be lionized in India, his portrait often hung alongside Gandhi and Nehru. His personal stature in Indian eyes was immense.
As for the officials in the room, none said it aloud, but all would have liked nothing better than to see Bose and his INA men wiped out.
"We're still at war — it's too early to discuss this in detail," said Burke of Bengal. "But if it comes to it, using Indian troops to guard these so-called INA soldiers is a bad idea. It risks spreading dangerous ideas among our own forces. That would harm the Empire."
"Then perhaps," Alan said, following Burke's logic, "we could simply leave them in Burma — isolate them. For most INA soldiers, we could act as though they don't exist. Whatever the Burmese choose to do with them is their concern, not ours. Give it a few years, and they'll be forgotten amid the postwar rebuilding and production. As for Bose himself, I'd prefer he die in the war. Since the war isn't over yet, we can leave that to fate."
Alan's proposal was to dump the INA's tens of thousands of POWs in Burma and not bother transporting them back to India. He knew Burma well enough — the majority Bamar people and most other ethnic groups had little in common with Indians, religiously or otherwise. Burma was Buddhist, India largely Hindu.
And one shouldn't assume Buddhists were always peaceful. Chinese history showed plenty of bloodshed involving Buddhists. Burmese Buddhism had never been crushed — and was just as capable of killing and burning as anyone else.
Thanks to British colonial policies and manpower needs, South Asians had often been used to govern other colonies. The "red-turbaned Indian" was a familiar sight even in Shanghai's International Settlement, let alone across the Empire.
During the colonial period, Britain had moved large numbers of Indians into Burma. They often dominated economically and held stronger political resources, which created ethnic and religious tensions with the local Burmese. After independence, the Burmese government remained unfriendly toward Indians, barring them from the army and suppressing their cultural customs.
Alan was certain that if these INA POWs were left to the Burmese, and British officials "forgot" about them, the locals would ensure these enemies of the Empire suffered miserable ends.
"Oh?" Sir Barron said with an amused, knowing look. "Would something so… natural really happen?"
"Perhaps," Alan shrugged, smiling faintly. "There are many local factions we can't fully control. If provoked, they might act… unreasonably."
"Well, that would be an extraordinary coincidence," said Keane, the Governor of the United Provinces, catching the implication. With a sneer, he added, "Perhaps it would be for the best. Indians breed like cockroaches — even if they can't feed themselves, they never stop mating. Wherever you go, it's just endless crowds."