INDIA’S ELECTION DILEMMA
Chaos Vs Governance
I returned to India in 1950 after almost three years' uncalled for incarceration in Skardu, part of Pak-occupied Kashmir now, as a child displaced person along with about 250 Kashmiri Pandits (Jammu and Kashmir Government servants) and Sikhs (businessmen) and their families. Most of us had lost our near and dear ones – some were Indo-Pak war of 1947-49 casualties, others were cold-blooded murders. Out group crossed Wagah border to reach Amritsar near about Vasaikhi festival which heralds Hindu Calendar's New Year and generally falls in mid-April.
The chaos in the Indian administration in 1947-49 Indo-Pak war has been amply described in my book, Debacle In Baltistan, published in 1973 which deals with the fall of Skardu to Pakistan and India’s knee jerk response. It also highlights the corruption prevailing in the Defence Ministry, which airdropped dud ammunition and outdated old medicines to the besieged Indian garrison. The airdrop generally fell in the enemy-held area – by design or mistake has still to be determined. (Later I learnt that this was the rule rather than exception on all fronts in Kashmir in 1947-49.)
By the way, the book was taken to the Defence Ministry for purchase for the Armed Forces and the dealing officials – clerks – demanded commission. I almost puked. And walked out of the meeting. Commission on spilled Army blood for the country ? The idea was repulsive.
But I consoled myself that we were not the only sufferers of Defence bungling when I read journalist Ms Baweja’s details of hand to hand combat in the Kargil war in India Today where she depicted how a not-so-critically- wounded soldier died awaiting much needed medical attention for almost an hour. Chaos prevails.
Coming back to Wagah and Amritsar, I reflect now that the Pakistanis were more efficient than Indians, even if they deployed their army for civil work of looking after us refugees.
At Amritsar camp, some of us refugees wanted to visit Harmandir Sahib (Golden Temple) on our own but the permission was refused by the camp commander on security grounds. Then he had the bright idea of having a common kitchen. It is easy to manipulate accounts when you cook for ten and feed 100. However, the refugees raised a hue and cry and every family got separate rations and cooking utensils.
We were given postcards to write to our relatives to take us away with them. Some of us were very excited to meet and live with our relatives. But the wise among us, the educated Government servants, and their well-advised widows, refused to go till the Indian or Jammu & Kashmir (J&K) Government decided their stipend.
Me and my mother were the most stupid, who took the non-economic decision in favour of love and loyalty and walked out of the camp with a relative. There was a lot of tear shedding on both sides initially. The relative even took us to Golden Temple before taking us – mother and child – home, but the bonhomie could not last long due to economic constraints.
I was a child still in pre-primary stage and mother was an illiterate, as ladies were not allowed education in those days. However, both of us learnt economics the hard way in due course of time.
(To be continued )
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