The air in Simla was thinner than Lahore's, sharper, cleaner — but not kinder.
Jinnah stood near the tall windows of the Viceregal Lodge, looking over slopes that seemed engineered for calm. Inside, nothing was calm. The Viceroy sat at the long table, papers aligned with imperial neatness. The Governor of Punjab remained slightly behind him, not speaking, but listening carefully. This was not a courtesy meeting. This was a negotiation disguised as admiration.
"You asked," the Viceroy said evenly, "for structural authority at the grassroots. Not merely a title."
Jinnah turned from the window.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Then explain to me," the Viceroy continued, "what exactly you intend to build."
Jinnah did not reach for notes. He never did.
"It begins," he said, "with a Union Office."
The Viceroy raised a brow.
"In each cluster of villages," Jinnah continued, "one office. Not ornamental. Functional."
"And who commands it?" the Viceroy asked.
"A lawyer," Jinnah replied.
That caused a faint shift in posture around the table.
"Not a landlord. Not a police sub-inspector. A lawyer. Vetted personally."
"Vetted by you?" the Viceroy asked.
"Yes."
Silence followed.
Jinnah did not soften it.
"He will be paid through provincial channels," he continued, "but recommended through my legal network. His loyalty will not be to feudal patronage. His loyalty will be to documented procedure."
"And what powers will this lawyer hold?" the Viceroy asked.
"He sits above the local police in matters of action. Police cannot conduct raids, arrests, or punitive measures without Union Office authorization. Complaints are recorded. Police become executors of written instruction, not improvisers of violence."
The Viceroy leaned back slightly.
"You are proposing to subordinate the thana."
"I am proposing to discipline it."
A faint, controlled pause.
"And if the lawyer becomes corrupt?" the Viceroy asked.
"He will," Jinnah replied calmly. "Some of them."
That earned a look.
Jinnah continued.
"That is why each Union Office will have an external auditor."
"External?"
"Rotating every six months. Not local. Not socially tied to the villages. The auditor reports upward — not to the lawyer, not to the police — but to a provincial oversight committee."
"And who sits on this committee?" the Viceroy asked.
"A mixed body," Jinnah said. "Crown liaison officers included."
The Governor shifted slightly at that. That was deliberate.
Jinnah continued.
"Every transaction will be ledgered. Medical supplies. Seed distribution. Revenue collection. Police requisitions. Everything recorded."
"And if villagers distrust both lawyer and auditor?" the Viceroy pressed.
Jinnah's eyes sharpened.
"Then they travel."
"Travel?"
"To the nearest railway station. Or to the nearest major city bar. Every Union Office jurisdiction will know that if matters are suppressed locally, escalation is physically possible."
The Viceroy studied him.
"You are building an escape valve."
"I am preventing monopoly."
The Viceroy tapped a finger on the table once.
"And what," he asked slowly, "sits inside these Union Offices besides lawyers and ledgers?"
Jinnah's tone remained steady.
"A small dispensary. A makeshift schoolroom. A seed bank."
The Governor leaned forward slightly.
"Explain."
"Villagers are registered," Jinnah continued. "Names recorded. Holdings recorded. Births and deaths recorded. Lagan assessed transparently."
He paused.
"If productivity increases, revenue increases. If disease falls, disorder falls. If seed supply is stable, banditry reduces."
"And medical staff?" the Viceroy asked. "You propose dozens of these offices. Where do you find the staff?"
Jinnah allowed the faintest shift of expression.
"Female Farabis."
The Viceroy looked genuinely curious now.
"Explain."
"They will be trained in basic healthcare," Jinnah said. "Vaccination, wound care, cholera response, childbirth triage. Basic medicine. Structured referral to larger facilities."
"Women," the Viceroy repeated.
"Yes."
"That is unconventional."
"So was the telegraph once."
Silence again.
"Every Union Office," Jinnah continued, "will have a radio set and telegraph capability. Routine reports. Stress signals. Immediate escalation in case of riot, fire, epidemic."
The Viceroy's eyes narrowed.
"You are building a parallel administrative skeleton."
"I am building stability."
"And the police?"
"Operate only under written Union Office instruction. No autonomous action."
The Viceroy studied him carefully.
"And the Crown?" he asked.
Jinnah did not hesitate.
"The Crown retains oversight. Crown officers embedded as liaison at district and provincial levels. Military units available for intervention when necessary. Auditors transparent to Crown review."
He leaned slightly forward.
"You maintain sovereign visibility."
The Viceroy was quiet for a long moment.
"And what," he finally asked, "prevents this from becoming your personal empire?"
Jinnah's answer was calm.
"Documentation."
The word landed heavier than rhetoric.
"If the system works," Jinnah continued, "it scales. If it fails, it is exposed. That is not empire. That is administration."
The Viceroy rose and walked slowly toward the window.
"Do you understand," he said without turning, "that if this succeeds, it becomes precedent?"
"Yes."
"And precedent," the Viceroy continued, "can be scaled."
"Yes."
"And scaled systems," the Viceroy said softly, "can shift power."
Jinnah did not move.
"Only toward competence," he replied.
The Viceroy turned back.
"And you believe this is how India should be governed?"
Jinnah held his gaze.
"I believe independence without administration is chaos," he said. "And administration without accountability is tyranny. This model balances both."
The Governor spoke quietly for the first time.
"It would also increase revenue."
Jinnah nodded.
"And reduce riot frequency."
"Yes."
"And reduce police abuse complaints."
"Yes."
"And give villagers a belief," the Viceroy added slowly, "that the system is reachable."
"Yes."
The room held the weight of what had just been laid out.
The Viceroy returned to his chair.
"And if I permit this," he said, "you align publicly with the Unionists."
"Yes."
"And at the national level?"
Jinnah met his eyes.
"If I enter the Unionist framework, it will not be as a provincial ornament. It will be as a national lever."
The Viceroy almost smiled.
"Ambitious."
"Structured," Jinnah corrected.
The Viceroy leaned back.
"You are either the Crown's finest administrative experiment," he said, "or its most disciplined future opponent."
Jinnah's voice remained steady.
"I am building a system that will outlive both of us."
Silence.
Then the Viceroy said:
"Draft it."
And for the first time that afternoon, the Governor allowed himself to exhale.
Because he understood something that neither of them said aloud:
If this worked, Punjab would never look the same again.