The Shivering Maharajah

Portly Sir Hari Singh was maladroit as a lover in his youth, despotic as a Maharajah in his prime and, in his declining years, the man who stuck the" world with the Kashmir problem. Last week he died after a heart attack at the age of 65. Republic of India flags in Jammu City were lowered to half staff, stores and businesses reverently closed, and thousands shuffled through the streets in mournful procession.

As a pukka youth in London, Sir Hari made his first headlines when, in the company of a Mrs. Maudie Robinson, he was surprised in a hotel room by a man claiming to be Mrs. Robinson's husband. Before young Sir Hari discovered that the man was not her husband and that he was the victim of one of the world's oldest blackmail games, he had paid $750,000 to the conspirators, among them his own British aide. Eventually, the truth came out and the case went to court, where Sir Hari's own counsel, Lord John Simon (later Britain's Chancellor of the Exchequer), described his client as "a poor, green, shivering, abject wretch." Sir Hari returned home to face the wrath of his uncle, the then Maharajah, who banished him to a remote jungle estate for six months and made him perform ritual acts of humiliation and penance.

Living It Up. When uncle died in 1925, Sir Hari took over as Maharajah of Jammu and Kashmir. The coronation was splendid (Sir Hari wore diamond earrings and his pony a bejeweled caparison), and the British government, which encouraged maharajahs in those days to shore up its colonial rule, spent $1,000,000 to celebrate. But the ensuing rule proved less glittering. Although Sir Hari had a yearly income of $10 million, a silver-plated airplane, and a Versailles-sized palace up in Kashmir at Srinagar--now one of the Orient's most luxurious hotels--he spent much of his working time suppressing opponents to his despotic rule.

The Unfinished Room. In 1947 Sir Hari haggled with the newly independent states of India and Pakistan to see which would give him the best deal for relinquishing Kashmir. Some 77% of Kashmir-Jammu's inhabitants are Moslem (and therefore inclined toward Pakistan), but Sir Hari was a Hindu.

The decisive moment came when Pathan warriors from Pakistan invaded the vale of Kashmir and cut the electric supply to Srinagar palace. Sir Hari promptly fled to Jammu, taking with him an 85-vehicle convoy loaded with his possessions, including polo ponies, and necklaces from the temple gods. He also took along most of his own army, while unabashedly appealing to Nehru to come to the aid of the Kashmiri people. In return he offered to sign an instrument of accession by which Jammu and Kashmir became part of India. Nehru, who nourishes a sentimental attachment for Kashmir because his forbears come from there, called it a deal, sent in the Indian army, which fought the invaders for 15 months until the U.N. arranged a cease fire. Ever since, India has based its claim to Kashmir on that accession, has steadfastly refused to hold a plebiscite (which it would probably lose) unless Pakistan talked the Pathans into withdrawing (which Pakistan has no intention of doing). The issue has poisoned relations between India and Pakistan ever since.

In time, Sir Hari abdicated his rule over the state, was given an allowance of $100,000 a year from the grateful Indian government, moved to Bombay and devoted himself to the breeding of polo ponies. But he was best known for the apartment building he started in Bombay, in which a team of masons was permanently employed to alternately tear down and rebuild the walls of one room. A fortune teller had warned Sir Hari that he would die the moment the building was completed.

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