COMMENTARY
INTERVIEWS
CAPITAL BUZZ
REDIFF POLL
DEAR REDIFF
THE STATES
YEH HAI INDIA!
ARCHIVES

The Rediff Special/K Natwar Singh

'What does Pakistan have about which India should be making such a noise?'

I have earlier mentioned Zia's St Stephen's link. Any Indian Stephanian visiting Islamabad could see him. In October 1981, a gorup of teachers and students from St Stephen's came to Pakistan. Principal William Rajpal and Professor Eric Kapadia were the senior members. As soon as Kapadia Sahib crossed the Wagah check post, he was escorted to a telephone and told President Zia-ul Haq was on the line and wished to speak to his old history teacher.

Kapadia Sahib was wholly unprepared for such high drama and said, "There must be a mistake." The Pakistani Rangers are all above six feet tall and told Kapadia that the president was on the line and he had better pick up the receiver. The history professor mumbled a few words and all but collapsed. The excitement was too much for him.

The president, of course, invited the group to dinner. Principal Rajpal had succeeded in excavating a 1942 OTC (Officer Training Corps) group, in which 18-year-old Zia-ul Haq is standing in the last row. When Rajpal gave him the photo, Zia said something on these lines:

My father gave me Rs 30 per month at college. Eighteen went for fees, ten for food. That left Rs 2. I could not have found the money to pay for this photo, and I can't tell you how much it means to me to have it and that too from Principal Rajpal.

Game, set and match to Zia. He placed a plane at the disposal of the Stephanians so that they could see Mohen-jo-Daro. The teenage boys were simply bowled over.

The president was keen to come to Delhi for the Jubilee, but Mrs Gandhi was not keen to have him in the capital. Nevertheless, he telephoned Principal Rajpal on the morning of February 1, 1981. I too had come to attend the jubilee. Mrs Gandhi was, of course, the guest of honour. She spotted me, 'Representing Zia, are you?' 'No Madam, I am representing you,' was my not so-intelligent response.

On my return to Islamabad, I gave the president a copy of The Stephanian which carried his article. A few days after he sent for me. "Kanwar Sahib, I want you to do me a favour." The president of Pakistan asking the Indian ambassador for a favour! Such things happen only in dreams.

Not knowing what to expect, I had a nervous grin. "Relax, Kanwar Sahib, I am not asking for Kashmir," he laughed. He then told me about Augustine Paul's article in The Stephanian. I had not read it. Paul, in his article recalled his sharing a room with Zia in college. He had done better than Zia in the OTC and ruefully written:

'In spite of my above achievements in the OTC it is a typical irony of fate that it was to be Zia who later opted for the army and has risen to his present position, whereas I have to derive satisfaction from my sedentary job as an officer of the Indian Foreign Service.'

In 1981, Augustine Paul was second secretary in our embassy in Bangkok. The president handed me a letter for Paul and also an autographed photograph of his. He asked me to send it on to Paul. Another PR bull's eye.

After six weeks or so the president enquired if I had forwarded his letter to Paul. I assured him I had. I would enquire why Paul had not written to thank him.

In far away Bangkok, Paul was being hauled over the coals. As a cautious IFS man he had informed his superiors that he had received a letter from the president of Pakistan who had also sent him a signed photo. Our intelligence sleuths got on to him right away and questioned him -- how did he know the president of Pakistan and how long had he been in touch with him, etc, etc. It took some effort on my part to get the poor man off the hook. There was so much suspicion on both sides that perfectly innocent acts were given treasonous colouring.

Eventually, Paul sent a correct and respectful letter of thanks to Zia, but he did so with no enthusiasm or pleasure after his disagreeable experience. He did write to me to say that I should request Zia to forget him and never write to him.

Zia's grip on the levers of power got tighter by the day. His constituency was the army-industrial-bureaucratic complex. He grew in the job. When he made a number of well-timed statements about Soviet military aid to India, I had several meetings with him, all at his home. Once he asked me to see him at the office of the chief martial law administrator. That was the second hat he wore. I was received by Lt General Khalid Mahmud Arif. Zia was in his military regalia.

"I am offering you a No-War Pact, why does not Madam Gandhi accept my genuine offer?" Then he switched to Urdu, slapped his thigh and in mock humility, said, "Pakistan ke pas hai kya, jis ke bare sare India mein hai toba macha hua hai. Kanwar Sahib zara mujhe samjhaiye." (What does Pakistan have about which India should be making such a noise? Please explain it to me.)

The word I have omitted could only be used in the presence of an Urdu understanding Indian who would not repeat it outside. I did not. The immediate consequence of his use of that word was to restore informality in what could have been an unpleasant encounter.

I raised the supply of F-16 planes to Pakistan by the United States. Why did Pakistan need them? Past events had sadly shown that all imported armour was used against India. I also reminded the chief martial law administrator that after the birth of Bangladesh, Pakistan's defence responsibilities had been considerably reduced. And yet in the last decade the defence budget kept rising each year. The strength of the army was almost half-a-million. India's defence responsibilities had not altered, but we had not increased the strength of our army.

"But what about my No-War Pact?" He again asked. I said that the government would most certainly examine this proposal seriously. Delhi was not too enthusiastic, but I did persuade Mrs Gandhi to make a mildly conciliatory reference to it in one of her public meetings. We did (just before I left Islamabad in March, 1982) succeed in setting up a joint commission. We also offered a treaty of friendship.

On August 17, 1988, President Zia-ul Haq was killed in a mysterious air crash near Bhawalpur. The ultimate futility of all human arrangements and plans was once more so painfully made obvious. Three days later I accompanied President R Venkataraman to Islamabad for the funeral. P V Narasimha Rao and Atal Bihari Vajpayee were in the delegation. The crowd was enormous, but the coffin was almost empty. Very little of the president's body could be identified.

The words of the great emperor Akbar came to my mind, when I saw his body lowered into the grave in front of the Faisal mosque in Islamabad:

The World is a bridge.
Pass over it,
But build no house upon it.

Excerpted from Profiles & Letters by K Natwar Singh, Sterling Publishers, 1997, Rs 350, with the publisher's permission. Readers who wish to buy a copy of this book may e-mail the publishers at sterlin.gpvb@axcess.net.in

The Rediff Special

Tell us what you think of this feature