The curious case of Kawas Nanavati

In Hot Blood settles all debate on the Nanavati case with its impeccable research

In Hot Blood

The Nanavati Case That Shook India

Bachi Karkaria

Juggernaut

302 pages; Rs 699

On April 27, 1959, Commander Kawas Nanavati of the Indian navy dropped his wife and three children at the Metro cinema in downtown Mumbai for the matinee show of Tom Thumb, drove up to Jeevan Jyoti building on Napean Sea Road, and shot dead Prem Ahuja, the paramour of his English wife, Sylvia. The jury found him not guilty, though its decision was overturned by the higher courts, and Nanavati was sent to the Arthur Road prison. In a few short years, Nanavati received a pardon and relocated to Canada where the family lived happily ever after.

The story is well known. India’s most infamous scandal has been the subject matter of books, films and bazaar gossip for long. Bachi Karkaria adds to the narrative by exploring the various forces that worked behind the scene, first to save Nanavati and then to help him emigrate to Canada.

The Parsi community rallied behind Nanavati in full force. The best Parsi lawyers provided him legal advice and argued his case, while Russi Karanjia’s tabloid, The Blitz, worked non-stop to paint Ahuja as the unscrupulous Sindhi playboy who ensnared the wife of a decorated navy officer. Parsis from all over thronged the courts, often to catch a glimpse of the dashing Nanavati. They were the builders of Bombay, bestowing on the city innumerable hospitals, museums and libraries, and here was a migrant Sindhi upstart out to besmirch its pride. For the brief period that Nanavati was in Bombay after serving his sentence, he was provided a job by JRD Tata, the tallest Parsi businessman of his time.

His lawyers insisted that Nanavati, like a gentleman, asked Ahuja if he would marry Sylvia and take care of their children, and when the car dealer refused, a scuffle broke out between the two, in which Nanavati’s gun went off, not once but three times, and Ahuja was killed. But if there was a scuffle, as Ram Jethmalani suggested to the prosecution lawyers, how come Ahuja’s towel didn’t fall off? (Ahuja had just taken a bath and his body was found with a towel tied round the waist.) The sticky towel was discussed ad nauseam by the lawyers. But the notion of keeping one’s honour prevailed and the jury exonerated Nanavati. The judge found the verdict perverse and referred it to the Bombay High Court.

The Indian navy, too, rallied behind one of its own who, it felt, was wronged by a scheming civilian. For the entire length of the trial, Nanavati was kept in naval confinement and not in prison. He would attend court in uniform, complete with medals and sword, though it was not required of him. And even the chief of naval staff flew down from Delhi in his Canberra to vouch for his impeccable character. Nanavati was marked for big things early in his career, and the navy pulled all stops to save its star officer.

The navy brass could have received its instructions from V K Krishna Menon, the defence minister. Nanavati had worked for Menon when he was the Indian High Commissioner in London. Nanavati was also known to the Mountbattens. Since Jawaharlal Nehru, the prime minister, held Menon in high esteem and was close to the Mountbattens, it is possible that the levers to save Nanavati were pulled at the highest level.

There has always been conjecture that Nanavati knew more than he ought to regarding the Jeep scandal, in which Menon was allegedly involved, and the suspicious purchase of HMS Hercules  by the Indian navy, and that is why the powers that be moved heaven and earth to save him. It is worth noting that the Maharashtra Governor who finally signed Nanavati’s pardon letter was none other than Vijaylakshmi Pandit, Nehru’ sister. Soon, wheels were set in motion to fast-track his emigration to Canada —what should have taken years for others happened in a matter of weeks for Nanavati.

In the popular media, Ahuja has been painted a villain, a man with a raging libido who preyed upon the lonely and vulnerable wives of naval officers. There was even a suggestion that he would befriend officers posted abroad and persuade them to get their cars to India on their return, which he would then purchase and sell. The country imposed a high tax on car imports but people posted abroad were allowed to get one back after paying a concessional rate. Going beyond the information fed by Nanavati’s supporters, Ms Karkaria talks to people who had known Ahuja and the conclusion is that he was charming and stylish but not the scheming Lothario he was made out to be.

In Hot Blood is a landmark book — it settles all debate on the Nanavati case with its impeccable research. This is journalism at its very best. One missing link is the Nanavatis’ lives in Canada. Ms Karkaria tries to reconstruct it by talking to people of the Parsi community there but the account is unfulfilling. Otherwise, the book is one hell of a page turner.