Lighting up a Craven “A” cigarette, Jinnah examined the map of Junagadh before him. The 13-gun-salute state was a seafaring kingdom in Kathiawar but shared no land connectivity with Pakistan. And yet, as he waited in his new study in Karachi for a phone call from the diwan of Junagadh, he couldn’t help but wonder how that little princely state could become a key player in his masterstroke.

Junagadh was a political oddity. It had a Hindu majority in population and an eccentric nawab who was Muslim. Parts of other princely states that had acceded to India were interspersed in Junagadh; and fragments of Junagadh were enclosed within the boundaries of its neighbouring states. It had the holiest of Hindu and Jain temples, and a staunch Muslim Leaguer named Shah Nawaz Bhutto as diwan.

“Mr Bhutto on the line, sir,” Jinnah’s ADC said, interrupting his musings.

Jinnah cleared his throat and picked up the receiver, “Good morning, Shah Nawaz. What’s the news?”

“Uh…not good, I’m afraid…” sighed Bhutto, the Sindhi Muslim Leaguer from Karachi, who had taken over only recently from his ailing predecessor as Junagadh’s prime minister. “The nawab’s constitutional adviser, Mr Nabi Baksh, has advised him to join India…” Bhutto apprised Jinnah. “And the nawab himself appears to favour participating in an association of Kathiawari states.”

“Hmm…” Jinnah threw his head back to gaze at the ceiling. “Well, that can change.”

“Quaid-e-Azam, the nawab has just returned from a holiday in Europe,” said Bhutto through the crackling line. “I am doing my best to convince him.”

“Good…” Jinnah released a puff of smoke. “You must keep at it.”

“But there are other voices…” added Bhutto, “regional voices, urging the nawab to join India.”

“Junagadh must not fear Indian threats,” Jinnah reassured him. “You are not far from Karachi by sea. Pakistan will not allow Junagadh to be stormed…”

“Right, sir…” Bhutto pursed his lips, amused at the jolt Junagadh’s accession to Pakistan would give the Congress high command.

“But remember…” added Jinnah, lightly touching the little green flag of Pakistan on his desk, astutely aware that the timing of a strike was almost as critical as the blow itself, “keep out under all circumstances until 15 August.”

Sardar’s heart sank as he caught sight of the screaming headline.

His mouth dry, his mind numb, he bent down and picked up the newspaper. He had just returned from his morning walk in Lodi Gardens, past euphoric crowds waving the tricolour, celebrating India’s dawn of independence; and here, already, was the first stab in her back. His eyes scanned the article:

JUNAGADH ACCEDES TO PAKISTAN!

The government of Junagadh has been faced with the problem of making its choice: accession to India or Pakistan. After anxious consideration and careful balancing of factors, the Government of Junagadh has decided to accede to Pakistan.

Sinking into a chair, Sardar squeezed his eyes shut.

It was 17 August 1947, only days since they had all taken their first breath as citizens of a free nation. Partition had been a bitter pill to swallow, but they had forced it down with a heavy heart in the hope that it would settle all disputes – like two warring brothers parting in the interest of long-term peace. But even before the bloody wounds and shameful scars of that colossal separation had had a chance to heal, Pakistan had chosen to deal India a deceitful and devious blow.

Sardar exhaled deeply. Junagadh was in Kathiawar, surrounded by Indian territory and the nerve centre of trade in Gujarat. Now, in Pakistan’s hands. As an Indian, he was affronted. As a Gujarati, he felt pained.

Freedom for India had been a lifelong dream.

Freedom had come.

Yet India remained an elusive dream.

“Sardar, have you heard?” VP Menon burst through the door, his wavy hair dishevelled, his eyes heavy with dark circles.

“Hmm…” nodded Patel, deep in thought, sitting across from his secretary Shankar and CC Desai, the additional secretary of the States Department.

“After all our courtesies and telegrams, we are left to find out from newspapers,” Menon threw up his hands. “The nawab did not even have the decency to inform us himself!”

Sardar swallowed hard, shocked and distressed in equal measure as he reflected on the rumblings that were reaching his ears – about Junagadh recruiting Baluchis and Hurs from Pakistan in its state forces; of Muslims flooding the state in huge numbers and buying up property; about Hindus fleeing the state; of the local Bahauddin College being affiliated with Sind University in Karachi. As much as he hated to admit it, the truth was that Jinnah had dealt India a devastating blow.

“Only last week the nawab held meetings with his people,” Menon paced up and down the office room. “Most were in favour of joining India and the nawab had indicated he would go along with them. Clearly, it was all just eyewash!”

Excerpted with permission from 565: The Dramatic Story of Unifying, Mallika Ravikumar, Hachette India.