Nothing But!: Book Three: What Price Freedom

Copyright © 2013 by Brigadier Samir Bhattacharya.

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter-1     The Pangs at Birth

Chapter-2     October 1947—The Dice is Thrown

Chapter-3     The Battle For Paradise

Chapter-4     Lost and Found

Chapter-5     The Crisis Within

Chapter-6     The Final Farewell And The Cold War Begins

Chapter-7     The Joys and Sorrows of Freedom

Chapter-8     A Divided Pakistan

Chapter-9     From Cricket Diplomacy To Neutrality

Chapter-10   Tremors Again in Paradise

Chapter-11   Coming of Age of the Indian Armed Forces

Chapter-12   From One Crisis to Another

Chapter-13   The Grand Finale and After

Chapter-14   Fiascos Galore

Chapter-15   A Forward Policy without Any Teeth

Chapter-16   America’s Brave New World

Chapter-17   Enticing the Chinese Dragon

Chapter-18   The American-Soviet Brinkmanship while China Strikes

Chapter-19   Time to Ponder

Chapter-20   An Officer in the Making

Chapter-21   The Beginning of a New Era

Chapter-22   Pakistan’s Fruitless Gamble

Chapter-23   The Birth of a Dynasty

Chapter-24   Warning Bells in Pakistan and Turmoil in the Middle East

Chapter-25   Love Lessons and History

Chapter-26   More Tensions in the Subcontinent

Chapter-27   Limping Back Towards Democracy

Chapter-28   Pakistan-The Beginning of the End

Chapter-29   Ides of March-1971

Chapter-30   Madness at Midnight

Chapter-31   The Count Down Begins

Synopsis

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to all those Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs and others from the Indian Subcontinent who were killed in their quest to gain freedom and also to my regiment 'The Jammu and Kashmir Rifles" whose initial sacrifices paved the way for the Princely State Kashmir to accede to India.

Family Trees of the Eight Families

(Principal Characters Only)

1   Sikandar Khan—Muslim Family from Kashmir

First Generation—Sikandar Khan—Wife Zainab Khan—Brother Sarfaraz Khan

Second Generation—Curzon Sikandar Khan—Wife Nusrat Shezadi

Third Generation—Ismail Sikandar Khan

Fourth Generation—Shiraz Ismail Khan(Adopted Son of Ismail Sikandar Khan )

2   Harbhajan Singh Bajwa—Sikh Family from Kashmir

First Generation—Harbhajan Singh

Second Generation—Gurcharan Singh Bajwa—Wife Harbir Kaur

Third Generation—Daler Singh Bajwa—wife Simran Kaur

Fourth Generation—Montek Singh Bajwa—wife Reeta—sister Loveleen

Fifth Generation—Dimple Bajwa

3   Sonjoy Sen—Bengali Hindu Family from Calcutta

First Generation—Sonjoy Sen

Second Generation—Naren Sen—Wife Shobha Sen

Third Generation—Samir Sen—Wife Galina Sen—Ronen Sen—wife Mona Sen—Purnima Sen

Fourth Generation—Lalima Sen—Shupriya Sen

4   Apurva Ghosh—Bengali Hindu Family from Chittagong

First Generation—Apurva Ghosh

Second Generation—Debu Ghosh—Wife Hena Ghosh

Third Generation—Arup Ghosh—Swarup Ghosh—Anup Ghosh—Mona Ghosh

5   Haji Abdul Rehman—Afridi Pathan Muslim Family from Peshawar

First Generation—Haji Abdul Rehman

Second Generation—Attiqur Rehman—Wife Nafisa Rehman

Third Generation—Gul Rehman—Wife Zubeida—Aftab Rehman—Arif Rehman—wife Ruksana—Shenaz Rehman

Fourth Generation—Aslam Rehman—Wife Farzana—Fazal Rehman—Samina Mehmooda—Husband Karim Malik—Saira Rehman—`Salim Rehman

Fifth Generation—Samir Rehman

6   Shaukat Hussein—Muslim Family from Calcutta

First Generation—Shaukat Hussein

Second Generation—Dr Ghulam Hussein—Wife Suraiya Hussein

Third generation—Nawaz Hussein—wife Shenaz Hussein

Fourth Generation—Imran Hussein(Shiraz Ismail Khan)

7   Edwin Pugsley—Anglo Indian Family from Calcutta

First Generation—Richard Pugsley

Second Generation—Edwin Pugsley—wife Laila Pugsley

Third Generation—Shaun Pugsley—Debra Pugsley—Sandra Pugsley—Richard Pugsley—Veronica Pugsley

8   Colonel Ronald Edwards—Only son of Roland and Gloria Edwards—British Family from England—First Generation

CHAPTER-1

The Pangs at Birth

That evening on the birth of Pakistan, while Mr Jinnah as the father of the new nation enjoyed his scotch and soda, in Calcutta the father of the yet to be born new Indian nation was still policing as the Viceroy’s one-man boundary force. A day prior to his departure for Noakhali, the Mahatma was hijacked by a visibly shaken and nervous Hussein Shaheed Suhrawardy. He was the very man who had only a year ago had triggered off the great Calcutta killings and who even a few months ago was bubbling with the idea of having his own independent Bengal as a third free nation of the subcontinent. The same man was now begging the Mahatma not to abandon the city. The great Mahatma who throughout his life had struggled to give India her freedom and had worked relentlessly to keep the country united was now being cajoled by the very person who as the so called responsible Muslim League leader from Bengal had been the villain of peace in the Province. Dressed in his trademark white shark skin suit and a two tone pair of leather shoes, the man who now virtually feared that not only his own life was in danger but also of those thousands of Muslims who lived in Calcutta, felt immensely relieved, when the Mahatma finally relented to his request to move into the Hydari House from the ashram at Sodepur. However, it was on two main conditions. The first condition being that Suhrawardy and the Mahatma would remain in Calcutta and provided Suhrawardy guaranteed the safety of the Hindus in the villages of the Noakhali district in particular and in East Bengal in general. The second condition which was mandatory was that Suhrawardy himself should move in with him into that old abandoned and crumbling structure that once belonged to a wealthy Muslim owner, so that their presence under the same roof would symbolize a true bond of trust, friendship and solidarity between the Hindus and Muslims not only inside the city, but in the whole of Bengal and India.

Though everybody knew that the Province was being carved up to join two different countries, Suhrawardy had no other option. Apprehensive of the fact that there was no other alternative but to save the city of Calcutta from revenge killings, the dapper Muslim League leader who would have otherwise been seen that evening in the nightclubs of the city with a whisky in hand and a fair white skin cabaret dancer by his side, quietly moved into Hydari House. But the welcome that was given to both of them, one a Hindu and the other a Muslim as they entered the precincts of that old sprawling house on Beliaghata Road was far from warm. Infact it was hostile as the crowds of Hindus and Sikhs that had gathered at the entrance pelted the old Chevrolet car in which the Mahatma was traveling with stones and soda water bottles and shouted. You traitor to the Hindus, go back.

The atmosphere became all the more volatile when Suhrawardy arrived. The Hindus and Sikhs now felt that they had been betrayed by the Mahtma who as per their perception was only keen to save the Muslims of the city and they therefore attacked the decaying mansion with brickbats, soda water bottles, stones and with whatever else they could lay their hands on. That evening of 13th August, 1947 as the stones and bottles came crashing through the few glass pane windows that had remained still intact, the Mahatma vowed that he would fast to death if the Muslims reneged on their word for the safety of the Hindus of Noakhali and if the Hindus of Calcutta ignored his plea of not harming the Muslims who for centuries had made the city their home.

On that Wednesday morning of 13th of August, Ronen Sen with his wife Mona who was three months pregnant boarded the Kalka Mail for their journey to Delhi. Ronen Sen from the Bengal Provincial Service cadre had been selected as a deputy secretary in the Ministry of Refugees and Rehabilitation in the yet to be formed Indian Administrative Service. On reaching Delhi the next day he was alloted a small government quarter near the Gole market and was immediately assigned the task of protocol duties during the flag hoisting ceremony that was scheduled to take place on the 15th of August near the historical India Gate monument on Kingsway. As he was about to leave for duty Ronen said.

‘Please dont worry my love and there is nothing to fear. I will be back in an hour or two or maybe by lunch time and I will also make sure that you get a good seat near the VIP enclosure for tomorrow’s historic function.’ Reminding Mona to be alert and careful, Ronen pedalled away merrily on his new Hercules bicycle.

On 14th August, after Mr Jinnah was officially sworn in as the first Governor General of Pakistan and had inspected the Guard of Honour that was commanded by Lt Colonel Gulzar Ahmed and his men from the 7/10 Baluch Regiment, and while the flag of Pakistan fluttered majestically over the Government House in Karachi, in India the Union Jack that had been flying over the various Government houses and offices for nearly three centuries was now being readied to be ceremoniously brought down from its masts and encased for the last and final time as souvenirs and one that would mark the end of the long British Raj in India.

As the people of India, in Delhi and elsewhere and even in the villages and bustees waited in anticipation to unfurl the Indian tricolour over their roofs at the stroke of midnight, at the old British residency in Lucknow where traditionally the Union Jack had been kept flying night and day to commemorate those like Henry Lawrence and others who fell fighting there for the honour of the British Empire during the great siege of 1857, Warrant Officer Ireland with his group of his army sappers at around 10 PM that night was getting ready to perform a new drill that never existed earlier in the British military manuals. Having ceremoniously lowered the flag for the last and final time they now got busy to chop off the metal flagpole from its very base. After it was hacked from its masonry cemented foundation, the iron flag pole now become just another piece of junk as the sappers hurriedly sealed the opening with cement and mortar so that no other flag would ever be hoisted from that very place and from that very spot that was once the heroic bastion of British supremacy in India. On that evening of Independence Eve while addressing the large crowd that had gathered at Hydari House for the prayer meeting, a depressed and dejected Mahatma Gandhi said.

From midnight tonight though we shall be delivered from the bondage of British colonial rule, but India will be partitioned and divided too. For tomorrow it will be both a day of rejoicing and of sorrow also and as far as I am concerned, I shall observe it by fasting, praying and spinning for the salvation of all India, concluded the apostle of peace while once again appealing and pleading to the Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims to embrace each other and to remain as brothers and friends. Meanwhile, far away in New Delhi, as the midnight hour approached inside, the magnificent circular edifice built by architect Baker, the first Prime Minister designate of India, Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru spoke in a humble tone to his countrymen.

Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not only or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, while the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A few minutes later as the big clock above the Speaker’s stand inside the ornate and majestic council hall slowly chimed its twelve tolls, the congregation inside stood in complete motionless silence. No sooner the twelfth chime was heard the bleating of conch shells all over the country heralded the birth of a new and free India. It also heralded for some others the dawn of slaughter, rape, loot and murder. No sooner had the celebrations started, the killings, carnage and massacres especially in the Punjab had also begun. On that evening of 14th August and soon after his return from Karachi, the last Viceroy of India eagerly awaited the arrival of his guests who were to formally offer him the coveted post of becoming free India’s first Governor General.

I accept it with humble pleasure and honour, said Mountbatten as Mr Rajendra Prasad the president of the constituent assembly made the request to the very man who only just hours ago had been elevated from a Viscount to Earl by the King and Emperor for his great accomplishment in India. As Mountbatten opened the beautiful cut glass decanter and personally poured the port wine into the three empty wine glasses, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru lit a cigarette.

Well then let us now drink to free India,said the Governor General designate as the three of them clinked glasses. A while later having stubbed out his cigarette, the first Prime Minister designate of free India reciprocated the gesture with a toast to the King Emperor. Having done that, Pandit Nehru then handed over the envelope that was supposed to contain the names and portfolios of the members of his cabinet who were to be sworn in the next morning. After the guests had left when Mountbatten opened the envelope and all he got was a blank piece of paper. It seemed that somebody in a hurry had fumbled, but that only added to the honour that had been bestowed on the handsome Englishmen as he laughed away at the episode. Finally when His Majesty’s last Viceroy to India stood to attention and raised a toast to his King and Emperor, the two new nations had already started their own celebrations.

On that Friday morning of 15th August, a day that was predicted as inauspicious by the Pundits and astrologers of India, as soon as trumpeters in the scarlet and gold ceremonial uniforms heralded the arrival of free India’s first Governor General, Dr Kania having been given the honour of being the first Chief Justice of the country got ready to administer the oath of office to the very man who till yesterday was the representative of the King Emperor. When Mountbatten with his wife by his side and escorted by his ADC’s walked gracefully towards the two crimson thrones inside the majestic durbar hall, there was pin drop silence. After the swearing in was over and when they in an open landau drove towards the Council Hall, the mammoth crowd outside greeted them with loud cries of Jai Hind. As the Governor General in his white ceremonial uniform with full orders and decorations alighted on the steps of the Council Hall, Ronen Sen who was on his way to the India Gate with his team felt indeed very proud to listen to the band playing the Indian national anthem officially. As the strains of Jana Gana Mana echoed across the vast Kingsway Avenue, Ronen stood like a good soldier to attention, while the general public ignorant of the drill danced and rejoiced on the road.

When the Viceroy stood on the rostrum and began his speech by saying very humbly, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen from today I am your constituent Governor General and I would ask you to regard me as one of yourselves’, there was a big smile on Lady Mountbatten’s face. That very first sentence by him drew a marvelous round of applause. And when he further added that two years ago on that very day of 15th August when the treaty was signed to end the war, it was a day of thanksgiving and happiness, but today what India had achieved was even greater and that it was a treaty of peace without a war, it drew even a bigger applause. Though MB had concluded by mentioning it as a treaty of peace without a war, but for many Hindus and Muslims it had become a war for sheer survival. And with the Maharaja of Kashmir still undecided about his people’s future, the ominous war clouds had already started gathering on the horizon. On that very morning of 15th August, at Srinagar the last British Resident in Kashmir, Colonel WF Webb closed the Residency once and for all. Though the Great Game or the War of the Shadows as the Russians called it that had been played on the mighty Himalayas were no longer of any strategic importance to the rulers of the British Empire, but a new game for power in that region had already started to unfold itself between the Maharaja and the ruler of Kashmir, Mr Jinnah, Mr Nehru and Sheikh Abdulla.

That morning while Ronen Sen got busy in making the seating arrangements for the VIP’s and other dignitaries near the saluting base at the India Gate for the historical flag hoisting ceremony that was to be held later that evening, he was quite surprised to see the sudden change in the logo of the tricolour. Gandhiji’s spinning wheel also known as the ‘charka’ which was the emblem for the masses and which till now was in the centre of the orange, white and green flag had been replaced by the Ashoka Chakra. Ironically it was a patriotic Muslim gentleman and his talented wife who had designed India’s national flag that would proudly flutter in the monsoon breeze on that historic occasion. Badruddin Tyabji an ICS officer had thrown in his lot with India. Gandhiji’s spinning wheel in the centre was also the symbol of the Congress party and the Mahatma had agreed to the suggestion made by the Muslim officer that it be replaced by the Ashok Chakra, a wheel that signified the glory of India under King Ashoka the Great who though he started as a despot and a tyrant, he later ruled India with compassion and concern for the poor. Coincidently the flag on Pandit Nehru’s car with the Ashoka Chakra in the centre was also the handiwork of the gracious Mrs Tyabji. As the hands of the clock that evening neared the hour of five, the Governor General looking as handsome as ever in his Naval uniform with full medals shining from his chest together with his charming wife Edwina by his side sat in the gold carriage that India had won with the toss of a coin. Soon they were on their way for the historic ceremony of the unfurling of the national flag. Escorted by his Bodyguards resplendently dressed in their colourful ceremonial uniforms and with their penants and lances glistening under the fading rays of the monsoon sun, they drove out of the gates of what was once known as the Viceroy’s palace but was now renamed as the Government House. When the artillery guns gave the Governor General his 21 salutes he did not in the least mind the reduction by ten from the 31 that he was authorized till twenty four hours ago.

While Patel, Nehru and Rajendra Prasad the three senior stalwarts of free India waited near the flag pole to receive the MB’s, the four month pregnant Mona Sen sitting some 50 yards away from the VIP enclosure waited patiently for the historic ceremony to begin. Ronen Sen had meticulously done his duty of seating the various VIP’s according to the given protocol, but the authorities concerned had totally underestimated the strength of the crowd that had assembled there that evening. They had come on cycles, in tongas, rikshaws, cars, buses and phaetons. And a larger number had come on foot and they were not only from within the city but also from the far off villages to witness the momentous event. As the Governor General’s ceremonial landau approached the saluting base, till then everything was alright. But then suddenly while it was still some distance away, the crowd became restless and uncontrollable as everyone jockeyed to get as close as possible to the scene of action. Seeing the Viceroy’s young pretty daughter Pamela standing helplessly in the crowd, Nehru in sign language told her to take off her shoes and jump over them. And she didn’t have to wait for long as the crowd very sportingly helped her to leap frog over their heads. And while Pamela managed to reach the saluting base, Mountbatten’s ceremonial landau however got stuck 25 yards short of the finishing line. And as the massive crowd surged forward towards the landau, the Governor General fearing that any further move forward could lead to a stampede that would be simply tragic, he quickly stood up on the landau and shouted loudly to the Prime Minister. Jawahar for heavens sake forget all the formalities and the speeches and just unfurl the flag. Hearing that command coming from the Governor General, and seeing the unruly behavior of the huge crowd, Pandit Nehru did just as he was told. As soon as he pulled the string and the flag started floating in the light monsoon breeze, the crowd became delirious with joy. And when the loud cries of Jai Hind, Vande Mataram, Bharat ki Jai, Mountbatten Zindabad, Gandhi zindabad, and Nehru—Patel zindabad echoed in the distance, a light drizzle like holy water from heaven blessed the millions who had gathered there that evening. Then as the sunlight faded away through the rain bearing clouds, and a rainbow appeared on the horizon, some sang the national anthem while others hummed and sang the Vande Mataram. While those unfortunate people who were now refugees simply folded their hands to invoke the blessings of the Gods in heaven to stop the bloodshed of the innocent that was now increasing by the hour and in alarming proportions in and around the capital.

As soon as the half baked ceremony was over, Ronen Sen on seeing an angry Nehru cursing the unruly crowd while holding Pamela Mountbatten’s hand and forcing his way towards the Governor General’s landau, he rushed forward to control the mob. Meanwhile Mona Sen fearing that she would lose her second baby also, she tried to get away from the mad crowd while shouting and looking for her dear husband. Not finding him at the appointed place where he was supposed to be, she decided to move to a safer place that was a little away from the venue. And as soon as the mammoth crowd started slowly dispersing and not being able to locate her husband, Mona too decied to find her way home.

As soon as Nehru with Pamela got into the landau, the Viceroy who had commanded thousands of disciplined troops during the war knew that controlling a mob was entirely a different ball game. While requesting the Prime Minister to calm down, he ordered the coachman to head back to Lutyen’s magnificent edifice on Raisina Hill. And as Pandit Nehru sitting perched up next to the coachman like a sergeant major started shouting with anger to the crowd to make way, Mona Sen with tears in her eyes kept slowly walking along the broad avenue that would soon be renamed as Rajpath. Noticing some four women and two children who were trying to get away from the mob and who could possibly get trampled under the wheels of his landau, the Governor General and his wife sportingly extended their hands and took them aboard. That instantaneous rescue act by no less a person than the Governor General brought a big smile on the faces of the four ladies who now found themselves in elite company. As the landau extricated itself from the frenzied mob and headed home, Edwina Mountbatten finding a tired and frightened young lady in a sari and with a big red round vermillion mark on her forehead walking alone stopped the landau and picked her up also.

"Well young lady why are you alone and why are you crying and where is your dear husband?’ asked Edwina as Mona Sen quickly did a namaste and wiped away her tears.

‘I wish I knew Maam. I lost him in the crowd. The last time I saw him he was standing next to the flagpole and then suddenly he just vanished from there,’ said Mona Sen with anguish in her voice.

Don’t worry we will try and locate him but what was he doing near the flagpole. Maybe if you tell us a little more in detail about him, I could depute one of my ADC’s to look for him, said MB sounding somewhat concerned about the young married lady’s plight.

Incidentally Sir, my husband is a deputy secretary in the government and he was on protocol duty, said Mona quite proudly.

‘Well in that case there is nothing to worry about at all. I am sure after the crowd cools down a little more he too will make his way home. However, in the meantime I will ask the police to convey to him that his wife is in safe hands," said Panditji as he smiled at Mona and told coachman to go a little faster.

But where do you stay in Delhi my child, asked Edwina as she tried to raise Mona’s sagging morale.

‘I am sorry I do not even know the full address of the place since we only arrived in the capital from Calcutta just two days ago. But all I know is that the area is called Gole Market," replied Mona sounding a little sheepish and embarrassed.

‘I guess that is not very far from here I have just been told, and since it is getting dark I will ask one of our staff members to escort you home in a tonga,’ said the handsome Governor General with a big grin and which also brought a smile back on Mona’s pretty face.

On safely reaching home and not finding her husband there, Mona became even more worried. Having checked back with her neighbours, she went inside and prayed for her husband’s safe return. And it was only half an hour later that she breathed a sigh of great relief, when she heard the tinkling of the cycle bell outside the door. And though her anger and anxiety immediately vanished, but in order to teach her erring husband a lesson, she decided to give it back to him in a sporting manner by welcoming him with a broom in her hand. But as soon as she opened the door and Ronen held her tightly in his arms and said. Thank God you are safe and alive, the broom slipped out of her hand. And when her husband further added that he was extremely worried when he could not find her and that he had even informed the Parliament Road police station, Mona quickly bolted the door from inside and holding her husband in a tight embrace kissed him passionately on his lips. Then as Ronen lifted her up in his arms, Mona said somewhat teasingly.

‘Can you imagine what would have happened if I had eloped with the handsome Governor General or with the equally good looking Prime Minister of ours.’

‘Now that is being real naughty,’ replied Ronen as he heard her story and lifted her in his arms and kissed her on the lips again. A few minutes later they were in bed making passionate love to each other.

I think the little one has started moving inside you already, said an excited Ronen as he placed his right ear on Mona’s stomach and kissed her navel tenderly.

"Yes, and I hope it will be a boy my love and according to the doctor we should expect him only by late January,’ said Mona as she made her way to the kitchen to get supper ready.

Early next morning Ronen Sen had another important official duty to perform and this time it was at the Red Fort where the Prime Minster was once again scheduled to hoist the tricolour and to address the people for the first time from the historic ramparts of the old Moghul bastion.

‘Forget the breakfast, I am already late,’ said Ronen to his wife as he got on to his new Hercules cycle and sped away. By the time he crossed Daryaganj and approached the mammoth Jumma Masjid near Chandni Chowk on that dark monsoon morning, he was caught in a massive traffic jam as a sea of people in all shapes and sizes had blocked the only road leading to the historic fort. Taking the help of the policemen on duty, Ronen parked his cycle at the nearest police piquet and then hitched a ride on a police sergeant’s motorcycle. Luckily he had made it in time to check the public address system. Finding it in order he then tested whether all the speakers were powerful enough to reach the ears of the massive crowd that had gathered there since early morning. As half a million people that morning cheered with joy when Nehru unfurled the flag at the historic fort which was once the symbol of Moghul power in India, in the divided province of Punjab for the millions of Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims who were affected by the partition it was an unprecedented unfurling of a heart rending tragedy. But surprisingly in Calcutta and in most of divided Bengal at the dawn of Independence things were rather peaceful. A change of heart by the people from all communities that was given on the call by the Mahatma some twenty four hours earlier had miraculously transformed the same very people from killers, looters, plunderers and free-booters to that of disciplined and compassionate human beings as they happily and merrily sang and danced together to herald their new India. That morning at 8 AM no sooner was the tricolour hoisted over the Government House at Calcutta, a frenzied mob ecstatic with joy invaded the place and Governor Burrows with his wife Dora had to make a quick exit by taking another route that would see them eventually to safety across the River Hoogly. The final farewell that was planned for them by the new incumbent Shri Rajagopalachari that morning had therefore to be perforced cancelled at the last minute.

As truckloads of Hindus and Muslims of Calcutta together with their leaders jointly went around the slums of the city shouting Ek Ho, Hum Ek hogaye( Let us all become one for we are totally united),"it was indeed an example of communal harmony. Then suddenly from the lanes and bye lanes of the dirty ghettos of the city, when both Hindus and Muslims with big smiles on their faces came out from their bustees and shanty towns and on to the streets to sing and dance, it was like a miracle. There was not a single Pakistani flag to be seen anywhere and from every house where the tricolour flew it was greeted with a big Jai Hind.

It was sometime around eleven o’clock on the morning of that historic day of 15th August, when Lt Col Ingall while stopping for a cup of tea at the Brigade Headquarters off the Punjab Boundry Force stationed at Amritsar bumped into his old friend Lt Col Ismail Sikandar Khan. Early that very morning Amritsar railway station had witnessed a very traumatic and harrowing scene when a gang of fully armed Sikhs had set fire to a Muslim refugee train that was on its way to Lahore and had mercilessly slaughtered most of the unarmed and innocent passengers. To repay the Sikhs and Hindus in their own coin, the Muslims too had attacked a Hindu refugee train that was on its way from Pakistan to India. And as the train with all its compartments dripping with blood steamed into Amritsar railway station, the message across one of the compartment that was written boldly with the blood of one of the victims of this madness read. ‘Our return Independence gift for Nehru and Patel.’ Having surveyed the scene of the senseless and brutal massacres, Lt Colonel Ismail had just returned to his headquarters and he looked visibly upset.

‘But tell me where will all this madness end," said Ismail as he told the Civil administrative staff which had asked for more military protection that the Punjab Boundary Force with its mixed composition of Hindus, Sikhs and Muslim soldiers on both sides of the border were fully committed to their tasks and that there were no more troops available to police every inch of ground. He however promised Mr Dean the Superintendent of Police Amritsar and the Deputy Commissioner that he would redeploy more troops along the sensitive and vulnerable railway track and on the Grand Truck Road that connected the two ancient cities of Lahore and Amritsar. Colonel Ismail also warned them that the situation could get worse as and when Mr Radcliffe’s award whch was due to be announced any day was made public.

Yes and I think he is absolutely bloody right and the madness has only just begun, said Colonel Ingall as he got into his car and took the road to Lahore via Wagah. Meanwhile in Quetta as 15th August drew nearer, Brigadier Carrington Smith, the Officiating Commandant of the Staff College celebrated the birth of both the nations by hosting an evening party on the big and beautiful lawns of the prestigious military institution. After the Commandant had spoken a few words and had raised a toast to the departing Indian student officers and staff who were to leave shortly to serve with the Indian army, Colonel SD Verma the senior most Indian officer present reciprocated the gesture with a suitable warm reply and a return toast to the host and to his erstwhile Muslim colleagues in arms. Lt Col Yahya Khan who was also a member of the directing staff of the college having already tucked in quite a few large whiskies and with a glass in his hand was in a most nostalgic, sentimental and evocative mood that evening. And with tears streaming down his eyes when he walked up to Colonel Verma and said.

Sir this should be a day of mourning and not celebrations, and if we had remained as one nation we would have been really strong, but instead we are now being divided. Lt Colonel Gul Rehman Khan who was standing nearby hearing those words coming from his colleague and friend Yayha, put an arm around him and said.

Well Yahya I fully agree with what you have just stated but we are not the decision makers. Now let us only hope and pray that the ugly reports of the rioting and killings that have been fanned by communal frenzy does not permeate into our disciplined soldiers who are now occupied in a thankless task of guarding and saving the lives and property of those who for no fault of theirs have perforce to find a new home for themselves.

A few days later after the many cups and trophies of the historic staff college had been amicably divided; it was now the turn of the combined board of officers consisting of the Indian and Pakistani representatives and with the British officers as referees to divide the well-stocked library. The College library which was a treasure trove of military knowledge and which contained some very rare books and manuscripts had become an obsession with a young major from the Pakistan army by the name of Major Amir Abdullah Khan Niazi. Born in the small village of Balo-Khel on the East Bank of the River Indus that was not far from the town of Mianwali in the erstwhile Bannu District of the Frontier, Niazi had joined the Indian army as a ‘Y’ cadet. Coming from the ranks he was selected for emergency commission and had passed out of the Officers Training School at Bangalore and was commissioned into the 4/7 Rajput Regiment. The battalion under the command of Brigadier Daddy Warren of the 161 Infantry brigade had fought very heroically and gallantly against the Japanese at Kohima. On 11th June 1944 for his spirited offensive action against the enemy at Kikrima on the Assam-Burma front, Niazi had been decorated with a Military Cross. Now a regular officer with a permanent commission, ICO 906 who was nicknamed Tiger was soon to get the new number of PA 477. The young Niazi with Major Latif then a student in the staff college had been detailed by his superior Lt Col Yayha Khan to ensure that no books were misplaced or pilferred with and Niazi had done it in typical frontier style, first by relieving the civilian Indian incharge of the library with the keys of the place, and thereafter having sealed the lock, he dutifully placed a section strength of the Baluchis from the Baluch Regimental Centre at Quetta to stand guard over it. The story however came to light on the day when Lt Col Gul Rehman on the termination of the course, went to the library to return the borrowed books and found the place locked and sealed and the notice on the library door read. Main library temporarily closed for stock taking. All borrowed books may please be returned to the new librarian in syndicate room number 3.A few days later Lt Colonel Gul Rehman’s short stint as an instructor at Quetta also came to an abrupt end when he was asked to proceed to Rawalpindi immediately and on promotion as full Colonel to take up his new assignment as a senior staff officer at Pakistan Army Headquarters, which had been redesignated now as the GHQ, General Headquarters.

And while the brutal killing of Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs in Punjab in those early weeks of August, 1947 continued with vengeance as they attacked one another with lethal weapons, Major General TW Rees, the General Officer Commanding the famed 4th Indian Division, at Lahore who was solely responsible in maintaining the law and order all along the Punjab border was a very worried man. He was the man in charge of the Punjab Boundary Force and on receiving some very alarming and disturbing reports about the tension building up between the Hindus and Muslims soldiers from within the mixed units and regiments that were under his command, he immediately called for an emergency meeting of all the senior Hindu and Muslim army officers who were now officially representing the two emerging nations. With stories of inhuman killings, looting, rape and arson doing the rounds, it was imperative that his soldiers in the mixed units should not loose their cool and therefore very rightly General Rees in order to get a realistic assessment of the situation within his own command had called for this very important conference.

The evening prior to the meeting the next day, Lt Col Ismail Sikandar Khan was an invitee at a get together that was being especially hosted by Major General Mohamed Iftiqar, the senior most officer from Pakistan for his old friend and colleague Brigadier KS Thimmaya and the venue was his own residence at Lahore. That evening Ismail was pleasantly surprised when he overheard a couple of young armoured corps officers from the Pakistan army discussing the future peace time locations of the regiments that had been allotted to Pakistan.

Well since seniority is the factor I think my regiment the Probyn’s Horse should be located at Srinagar in the beautiful Kashmir valley and my squadron at Gulmarg, said a newly promoted Major.

Well if that be the criteria then the 13th Lancers of which I am very much a part should move to Pahalgam, said another young Captain. Both were very optimistic that Kashmir would be very much a part of Pakistan and quite rightly so thought Colonel Ismail Sikandar Khan as they all stood up, when Brigadier Thimaiya looking tall and handsome as ever and who was now tipped to take over the famous Red Eagle Division walked in arm in arm with his gracious host.

On the morning of 16th of August, 1947 on being told that his old friend Ismail Sikandar Khan was in Lahore to attend an important joint conference that was scheduled to be held at the Headquarters of the Punjab Boundary Force that morning, Gul Rehman with his wife and family decided to give him a surprise. While the conference was in progress an envelope marked ‘Top Secret’ was passed on to Ismail. The message inside and written in Morse code read.

Come what may, you will have to join us for lunch at Falletti’s today. We are on our way to Pindi. So just make any damn excuse and get away as soon as possible. It was signed. Gullu. On receiving the invitation, Ismail just could’nt wait. Therefore during the tea break he went upto Brigadier Thimmaiya and Brigadier Digambar Brar and frankly told them the truth. When he briskly started walking towards his jeep, he bumped into Brigadier Ayub Khan and Brigadier Nasir. They were both representing Pakistan and were on their way back from the toilet.

Well what is your damn hurry Ismail and why are you running away from us in such a frightful rush, and that too without having a cup of tea. There is no bloody war on I am sure, said a smiling Brigadier Ayub Khan a product of Sandhurst and who was from the erstwhile 14th Punjabees

No Sir.It is nothing very important, but I just cannot afford to miss this very urgent meeting with someone and his family and who mean more to me than anybody else in this world,said Ismail as he saluted the two senior officers and ran towards his Willy’s jeep.

While on his way to Falettis, Ismail stopped by to do some quick shopping. I must give all of them a nice parting gift, thought Ismail as he picked up a Max Factor make up set and a pair of ladies Ray Ban dark glasses for his Zubeida Bhabi, a monopoly set for Aslam who would soon be eight years old, a toy train set for little Fazal, a doll for little Mehmuda and a bottle of champagne for his dear friend Gullu. Not fully satisfied with the purchases which were like gifts to individuals and which were rather impersonal in nature, Ismail went to the best silversmith in Lahore and purchased the biggest and the best silver photo frame that he found displayed outside the shop window. Telling the shop owner to engrave on it the words To my dearest friend and family from Ismail Sikandar Khan, he then went to the old Swiss bakery on the Mall Road and bought a two pound Black Forest cake which he knew was Gullu’s favourite and some chocolates for the children.

When Ismail with all the gifts neatly wrapped in separate presentation packets arrived at Falletti’s, it was not even midday and Gul Rehman was pleasanrtly surprised to see him arrive so very early. He was not expecting him to turn up from the conference before 2 PM.

I must say that the red lipstick on your uniform collar looks rather impressive and may you get more promotions in the near future,said Ismail as he saluted his friend and then hugged him tightly.

It is all thanks to those senior British officers who were feeling homesick and I am sure these red tabs will soon find a place of honour on your collar too, said Gul Rehman as he lifted his old friend in his arms much to the surprise of the other guests in the hotel lobby.

Oh come on and stop behaving like little children please, said Zubeida looking a bit embarrassed as she with her two boys Aslam and Fazal and with little Mehmooda in her arms got up to greet their guest of honour. After giving the children their gifts, Ismail picked up the two boys in his arms and kissed them a few times on their red chubby cheeks and the children too returned the compliment as many times as was demanded, till the old Muslim waiter Shahbaz Khan a first world war wounded veteran from the Frontier Force Rifles whom Reggie had helped in getting this job walked in with the two Bloody Mary’s, a virgin pinacolada and two aerated lemonades that Gul had ordered earlier. As the old waiter placed the order on the table and did his customary salaam, Ismail noticed that the man had a few fingers missing on his right hand. He had lost them in the battlefield of Flanders during the First World War while throwing the improvised jam tin pot bombs on the attacking Germans. When they moved in for lunch, Zubeida who was thrilled with her own gifts said.

But Bhaijaan why did you not opt for the Pakistan Army, then we could have forever been together as one family and the children would have loved it too.

Well I will still be with you all whenever you desire and after all we were all part of the same country and the same army till 48 hours ago, weren’t we?" replied Ismail as he cuddled the one year old Mehmuda.

Well frankly speaking I cannot blame him for not opting for Pakistan. After all Ismail was always with the Second Punjabees and that Regiment has now been allotted to India. Moreover, Ismail always commanded the Dogra company and since a large number of them are recruited from Kashmir to which Ismail also belongs, I think he took the right decision which I too would have taken if I was in his shoes, said Gullu as Shabaz Khan walked in with a tray full of various types of kebabs for the elders and French fries for the boys.

Well if that is the logic then he should join the Maharaja of Kashmir’s State Forces,said Zubeida who had no clue whatsoever about the political turmoil in that State, or about the mindset of the ruler who was still undecided about his own kingdom’s future.

No thank you and even if the Maharaja promoted me to the rank of a General in his State Army, I will not make that silly mistake, said Ismail.

But why not? After all you belong to that State, don’t you? asked Zubeida.

Yes that is right but the reason is that the State Force is the Maharaja’s own private army and the future of their officers and soldiers are hanging in a balance and it will remain so till such time the Maharaja finally decides to accede to either of the two countries, said Gul Rehman as he called out to the waiter to get one more round of drinks for everybody.That afternoon as the two friends drank a couple of toasts to each other and their regiments and Ismail presented the big silver photo frame to his old colleague, Zubeida was literally in tears.

Promise me Bhaijaan you will never forget us,said Zubeida as she adjusted the new Ray Ban glasses that Ismail had presented her with to hide the moistness in her beautiful big eyes.

Well then let us all to do full justice to the beautiful gift and have a family photograph taken with Ismail in the centre,said Gul Rehman while requesting the restaurant steward to click a few shots with his Rolleiflex camera.

Indeed a splendid idea and we will have it enlarged and kept in this very photo frame,’added Zubeida as she quickly opened the Maxfactor compact that Ismail had presented her with and applied a wee bit on her cheeks.

And don’t forget to send me a copy of that photograph too,added Ismail while requesting Zubeida Bhabhi to stand in the centre for the next group family photograph. Amd when it was time to say the final goodbyes even the two old friends could not hide away the tears that had swelled in their eyes.

Now do please remember that our return gift to you Bhaijaan is still due and for that you will have to present yourself physically and personally at our house in Rawalpindi, said Zubeida as Ismail kissed the two boys and little Mehmuda and got into his jeep.

Inshallah and Khuda Hafeez and let us hope we meet each other soon,said Gul Rehman as he saluted his old friend. Ismail was so very touched by the warm send off that he did not have the heart to look back. He simply stretched his hand out from the jeep and kept waving out till it was out of the hotel gate.

On 17th of August, Mr Cyril Radcliff who had been given only 37 days after his arrival in India to divide the subcontinent, a country that was more than 26 times the size of Great Britain and which had a population that was nearing the 45 crore mark was already on his way back to England. The learned Judge who with his pen had divided the ancient land with impartiality and malice towards none had already submitted his set of confidential reports with the proposed international border in sealed envelopes to the Viceroy a few days ago. On that morning of the 17th August, when Mountbatten took out the two sealed envelopes which he had safely kept in his locker for nearly seventy two hours so that both India and Pakistan could celebrate the birth of their new nations a little more peacefully, he only hoped and prayed that as full fledged members of the British Commonwealth, both India and Pakistan should have a bright future. However, no sooner had the two nations been informed about the border that would henceforth be the International Boundary dividing the two countries and which they were honour bound to accept, all hell broke loose as Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims went for each other’s throats and especially so in those border districts where Radcliff’s pen had sliced through the hopes and aspirations of its mixed Hindu, Muslim and Sikh population. Thanks to Radcliff, the rivers and roads of the fertile Punjab region would now become rivers of blood and hatred.

That bloody Sunday of 17th August, 1947 having announced the Radcliffe award, Mountbatten flew down to Bombay to bid farewell to the Norfolk’s, the first British Regiment who were now all set to leave the shores of India for good. The Tommies after having heard the message of gratitude that had been sent by the Prime Minister of India and which had been read out to the British officers and other ranks by Major General KM Cariappa, the senior most officer of the Indian Army, they were now ready to board the ship. Under the wet monsoon weather as they kept waving back to the crowd from the gangway and from the decks of the the troopship Georgie for their journey back home, Colonel Reginald Edwards who had especially come all the way from Kasauli to see them off wondered whether Britain would ever rule the waves again. While most of them kept smiling as they went up the gangway, there were quite a few who felt sorry and sad leaving their land of milk and honey behind. All of them had happy memories of the neatly laid out cantonments with its wide Mall Roads, palatial mansions, officer’s messes and clubs that were located amidst the beautiful gardens of what some called their golden ghettos. They would now dearly miss the Koi Hais and the evening sundowners of scotch and soda that they always enjoyed after a hard days work. For those who loved their golf followed by a rubber or two of Bridge, there would be no more pow-wows, arguments and post mortems either about the good and bad putts on the greens or of the lousy table play and bad bidding by some on the bridge tables.

On that very evening as Georgie sailed away, and while Punjab was erupting like a mad volcano in flames, at the Government House on Malabar Hill in Bombay, all the British Governors of the Indian Provinces dressed in their formal attire of the heaven born ICS cadre for the last and final time together with their lady wives in long evening gowns were busy doing the waltz, the foxtrot, the tango and the quickstep on the polished wooden floors of the State ballroom. It was their final farewell dinner and dance that was being hosted by the last Viceroy of India. Early next morning they were on board The Empress of Scotland for their journey back to Blighty. As the ship sailed away most of them as a final salute to India threw away their regulation service toppees. Those were the same toppees that had kept them away from the hot Indian sun and were no longer required by them any more.

While Ismail Sikandar Khan after a long and tiresome day sat in the operations room of the Punjab Boundary Force headquarters in Lahore to draft his evening situation report that was required to be sent twice a day to the higher headquarters, it seemed strange to him that the fruits of independence had brought nothing but misery to the millions of poor people on both sides of the Radcliffe Line. And where as in 1942 at Gandhiji’s call to the British to Quit India, the people had targeted only the British and their establishments, but now five years later they were targeting one another, while the British like muted observers watched the massacres from the sidelines. The British units and regiments of the Indian Army having been given strict orders not to interfere or take sides now had no role to play at all. The British soldier just could never imagine that such would be the bitter fruits of sovereignty and freedom for the poor Indian masses.

While the man who with one stroke of his pen had divided the land of the five rivers which was also the buckler of the Indian Army was on his way home, the mass exodus of those who overnight became homeless destitutes had already become a raging torrent of hatred and revenge. The rain Gods too added to their agonizing miseries as the heavy monsoon showers flooded their fields and the low lying areas of the ever fertile province which was also the granary of India. On that very day as the reports of killing, looting, murder and rape reached alarming proportions, Liaquat Ali Khan and Pandit Nehru, the Prime ministers of the two new nations together with the Supreme Commander Field Marshall Claude Auchinleck met at Ambala to take stock of the situation.The Boundary Award by Cyril Radcliffe it seems had satisfied none of the leaders from both the sides. Whereas the Chittagong hilly tract in the east was awarded to Pakistan, Calcutta, a major city remained the capital of West Bengal and as part of India. But what had upset Mr Jinnah the most was the award of Gurdaspur district of the Punjab to India. Since the award was binding on both the sides, Mr Jinnah could do nothing more but console his own countrymen. However, he did show his utter disapproval when he said. I know that the award of the Boundary Commission is an unjust, incomprehensible and even a perverse award, but as honourable people we must abide with it and bear it with fortitude, courage and hope. Mr Jinnah was confident and had hoped that the Gurdaspur district with its majority Muslim population would become a part of Pakistan and as a result of which Kashmir would automatically fall into his lap. But the Radcliffe Award had upset his apple cart and he now had to think hard and think fast in order to have Kashmir in his bag.

Ironically the names of the two key towns Gurdaspur and Pathankot of that key border district were symbolic in the sense that the name Guru was not only a prefix to the name of Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religious order but it was also prefixed to the names of all the Sikh religious leaders who devoutly followed him. And strangely it would be a contingent of Sikh soldiers who would eventually come to the rescue of the Maharaja’s enchanting valley. Similarly the name Pathankot was derived from the word Pathan, the tribal people from the North West Frontier and it will be their help that the Quaid-e-Azam would now have to seek to ensure that Kashmir became part of his dream.

The first whiff of this sinister plot surfaced on 20th August 1947 when Major Onkar Singh Kalkat, a young Sikh officer of the Indian Army serving as a Brigade Major at Bannu in the North West Frontier Province received a top-secret demi official letter that was addressed to his Brigade Commander who was a Britisher. The letter also had an acknowledgement slip that was required to be signed by the recipient himself and returned within the next twenty-four hours. Major Kalkat was soon to hand over charge to his counterpart from Pakistan and return with his family to India. However, on that day his Brigade Commander, Brigadier CP Murray was away on a farewell visit to his old Battalion that was located some 21 miles away inside tribal territory. Very dutifully and on realizing the urgency of the matter, Major Kalkat contacted Brigadier Murray on the field telephone. The Brigadier in turn permitted him to open the letter and acknowledge the receipt on his behalf. But when he opened the letter Major Kalkat was now in for a rude shock. The letter was signed by no less a person than the new British C-in-C of the Pakistan Army, General Messervy and to it was also attached a proposed plan for the invasion of Kashmir by the Pathan tribesmen from the North West Frontier Province.

The very next day on returning to his headquarters, Brigadier Murray having read that letter extracted a promise from Major Kalkat not to reveal the contents to anybody till such time as he Major Kalkat was still in Pakistan territory. He was worried about his Brigade Major and his family’s safety. A week later Brigadier Murray handed over charge to a newly promoted Pakistani Brigadier and left for London. Not very sure of the fact whether Major Kalkat was privy to the top secret plan or not, the Muslim Brigade Commander very cleverly and on some pretext or the other kept delaying the officer and his family’s repatriation to India.

Mr Jinnah had earlier approached the Maharaja of Kashmir through the good offices of Major General HL Scott, a senior British Officer of the Indian Army who from 1936 as a Brigadier was the Chief of Staff of the Maharaja’s State Forces. Through him the Quaid-e Azam had assured the Maharaja that he and his state would be guaranteed the same status and conditions as those that were being enjoyed by him under the suzerainty of the British crown if he were to join the Pakistan constituent assembly. But since there was no response from the Maharaja, Mr Jinnah had to now think of an ingenious invasion plan.

On 23rd August, 1947 on seeing the terrible tragedy that was still unfolding in the Punjab, Lady Mountbatten spoke to the people of India and urged them to maintain sanity. She sang praises of those unsung heroes from both the communities who had thrown all their religious beliefs out of the window and who now like good Samaritans were toiling ceaselessly to save the lives and property of those who still believed in a united and secular India. She ended her broadcast with a quote from the inscriptions on the Jaipur column that stood as a silent sentry on the courtyard of the Government House. It read. In thought, faith, in word; in deed, in courage;in life, in service: so may India be great. But it seemed that her appeal to the Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs had no effect as she on 26th and 27th August visited Jullunder, Amritsar and Lahore to see the mutilated bodies of the refugees who could not make it to their new country from both sides. On 29th and 30th August, Mountbatten once again sent his close aide Pug Ismay to Kashmir and urged him to do his best to get the Maharaja