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The strategy of the British Raj was plainly to strangle what it called "open rebellion" before the rebellion could get organized. The British hoped to quell the riots in a few days, expected support from Communists, Untouchables, Moslems. Their program was ready for the push of a button. During the week the Viceroy's Council met almost daily instead of once a week. It was a period of great decision for the eleven Indians on the 15-man council. If they approved the arrest of Gandhi, it meant that their decision would haunt Indian politics for decades. It would cut them off from any Congress party support. On the fateful Friday they trudged three times up the winding spiral stairs of the Viceregal lodge to the Council Room. They left late at night with their decision made, their plans laid.
In moves that meant total war against the Congress party, with the backing of the Viceroy, the 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow, and the Home Government, the Council: 1) ordered strict control of the national press; 2) gave provincial authorities power over local governments; 3) announced that shops closing their doors as a part of a general strike would be immediately taken over by the Government. When the hour came the British operated with extraordinary efficiency.
August 7. Just as they struck first at week's end, the British struck hard earlier in the week with the revelation of documents seized last April in a raid on the Congress party headquarters at Allahabad. These documents were used to prove that Gandhi at that time had planned, as the first act of Indian independence, to negotiate for peace with Japan. Nehru and Gandhi promptly noted that the raid was illegal, claimed that the documents were misinterpreted by the British to influence
U.S. opinion and turn Gandhi supporters against him in Britain. To the British, the documents were evidence that Gandhi was a traitor. To the Congress party the British action was a dirty trick. Meeting in Bombay, on the fateful August 7, the party gave its answer.
Of all India's cities, Bombay represents the best and the worst that the Raj has brought—from enlightening contact with western civilization to the tragic abuse of industrialism expressed in miles of grimy slums like those in the Girgaun district. In this poverty-riddled, proud, resplendent citadel on the seven interwoven islands at India's gateway, the Congress leaders met with settled purpose. Inside their huge Pandal electric fans hummed. They had the unprecedented extravagance to provide chairs for everyone. They opened their meeting with terrific trumpet blasts. A band played Marching Through Georgia. Crowds surged on Gandhi when he arrived in his loincloth, a narrow white scarf around his neck. Twice he lost his glasses. Each time his admirers tried to put them back on for him. Momentarily forgetting nonviolence, he swung his fists to ward off the overzealous. Inside the Pandal, Gandhi spoke, cross-legged from a couch, into a microphone. A friend explained: "He has some difficulty because he has lost his teeth."