Open Secrets: The Explosive Memoirs of an Indian Intelligence Officer (30 page)

Her appearance looked rather clouded, though a bright sun had lighted up the Raj Bhavan lawns. Draped in a saffron
sari
she looked rather worried and sunk within herself. She did not talk much.

The secretary to the Governor summoned me to the Raj Bhawan at about 8 p.m. On arrival he told me that Sanjay wanted to meet Narbahadur Khatiwada and I should personally bring him to the Raj Bhawan. He also asked me to see Sanjay in his room. I did not like the idea but was left with no window to escape. I would like to describe my first meeting with the heir apparent.

Seated alone in his room Sanjay was expecting me.

“Are you the IB fellow? You don’t look like a Kashmiri!”

“Yes sir, I’m the IB rep and I’m a Bengali.”

“Do Dhar’s grow in Bengal too?”

“I’m not sure if they grow there, sir. But my last seven generations are domiciled in Bengal and I’m told that they had migrated from Dhar in Madhya Pradesh.”

Sanjay did not appear to be pleased with the reply. Perhaps he was not happy with the Dhar title itself, having his serious differences with another Kashmiri Dhar, a minister in his mother’s cabinet.

I was surprised to see suspicion and hate coming out of his eyes and contempt from the corners of his lips. It appeared that he wasn’t even happy with himself. Did his anger emerge out of self-hatred?

“How long have you been in the service?”

“Twelve years.”

“Fine. Brief me about Sikkim and tell me in details about the implementation of family planning programme.”

The political briefing was over in ten minutes. But I faltered on the briefing on the family planning programme. All that I could say that demographically the Bhutias and the Lepchas were far below the expected growth rate and the Nepalis too were not threatening the balance of population very adversely.

“Don’t you think that the Nepalis should be subjected to family planning measures?”

“I think it wouldn’t be a politically prudent step. Sikkim has just become a part of India. The citizenship issue is yet to be settled. Sikkim requires economic development and emotional integration.”

“Do you think population control is a bad policy?”

“No sir. But Sikkim is not yet mature for this programme.”

Sanjay dismissed me and directed to produce Khatiwada exactly at 10.30 p.m.

I drove back to my office and raised Delhi over the phone and asked if I should get involved with Sanjay. The desk analyst chided me for disturbing his evening peace and asked me to do whatever I could do not to antagonise the rising son. His final words were something like this: ‘you don’t live another day by antagonising him.’

I got the message loud and clear and picked up Khatiwada from his Deorali residence. He wasn’t apprehensive and expected great favours from Sanjay. Khatiwada of 1976 was a fence sitter. He had not joined the gang of political looters and hadn’t fully digested the ‘deceitful merger’ of Sikkim with India. ‘Disinherited and disowned’ by Kazi and Kazini he was striving for establishing his political identity. Khatiwada of those days was a dynamic person. He was not a mere rabble-rouser. He was divested of his political mooring and was desperately in search of important mentors in the capital of India.

I waited in an anteroom while Sanjay and Khatiwada confabulated in the confines of the room. They emerged after about an hour and Sanjay summoned me by rude finger gestures.

“I’m making Khatiwada an important functionary of the Youth Congress. Ensure that he is not obstructed by the chief minister and others.”

“Wouldn’t you like to speak to the Governor?”

“Do as I say. I’d do whatever I’ve to do.”

“Would you like to reconsider your decision to empower Khatiwada with wider credibility?”

Sanjay looked at me with utter disbelief. He couldn’t imagine that a lowly IB officer would talk in a condescending manner.

“What’re your problems?”

“I’ve no problem sir. The problem is that Sikkim is a new experiment. Kazi should be allowed to settle down and strengthen the process of integration. Khatiwada is a firebrand person and he is disillusioned. I am afraid that he may choose to challenge the chief minister.”

“No problem. I can have another chief minister. Now do as I said.”

I did not know that I had risked my job and neck that night by standing up to the greatest bully of Indian public life. Later I was advised by the Governor not to risk such honest opinion in front of Sanjay Gandhi. He mildly reminded me that as a civil servant my foremost duty was to carry out the orders of the political masters. I did not agree with him. Neither did I agree with Sanjay on a laterday encounter. That’s a different story. I’d like to tell a little later. The encounter over, I proposed to drop Khatiwada at his residence. He insisted on coming to my home and discussing the future course of action.

Khatiwada exploited his Youth Congress connections to build up a political firewall against L. D. Kazi. He was a frustrated man and he was an impatient person. Four Nepali youth leaders had played key roles during the political turmoil that was manoeuvred by Delhi to merge Sikkim with India. One of them Narbahadur Bhandari was loyal to the Chogyal and Sikkim’s special identity. He fought for it and suffered torture and indignity in the hands of the Indian security forces. He changed much later and surrendered his ideology to the lure of the lucre.

The other three Nepali youth leaders R. C. Paudyal, N. K. Subedi and Narbahadur Khatiwada had supported the popular movement spearheaded by L. D. Kazi that aimed at restoration of democracy under a titular monarchy. He hadn’t
barga
ined for the abolition of Sikkim’s identity.

N. K. Subedi, an enigmatic young man, was one of the most important segments of the youthful trident that Kazi carried in his hand. Subedi basically opposed the idea of merger of Sikkim with India, and Kazi and Kazini dropped him soon after they were ensconced at Mintokgong. R. C. Paudyal had succeeded in ingratiating to Kazi and Kazini and remained a minister in his cabinet until such time he condescended to swim along with the tide. He did not live up to the expectation and took off at a maverick tangent both in political and personal life.

Khatiwada, advertised as the adopted son of Kazi, was a unique spark of the ‘revolution.’ He possessed the properties that could put things to fire but like the amorphous spark of almost all revolutions he was consumed by it. He could not keep the fire in him intact. He too was not in favour of abolition of Sikkim’s unique identity. But two indomitable women, Indira and Eliza Maria, had put Kazi on a tiger and he did not know how to disembark. He was left with no option but to swim along the current that flowed from Delhi. He turned to Delhi for everything and started neglecting the Nepali forces that had the potential of challenging his actions.

Khatiwada too was abandoned like a pot of sour
chhang
(millet beer).

Proximity to Sanjay provided Khatiwada the much-needed fuel that he thought could fire up the spark in him again. He felt that he was no more dependent on the dual political stars, Kazi and Kazini, and the cosmic source of power, the Governor and his loyal bureaucrats. He started a sustained political campaign under the banner of the Youth Congress that actually eroded the political base of Kazi. He had started emerging as an alternative power base that had drawn attention of a number of fence sitters. Sanjay as well as my seniors in Delhi did not appreciate the point that weakening of Kazi Lehudup could lead to the strengthening of the pro-Chogyal forces.

Forcing Kazi to merge his Sikkim National Congress with Indian National Congress (I) was another cardinal mistake. Some arguments have been offered that the political managers and hammer smiths in Delhi did not want to commit the mistakes of granting special status to Sikkim and than chipping at those provisions on the sly, like they did in Kashmir. Such actions of erosion-on-the-sly in Kashmir had generated chain reactions of discord, dissent and devastating insurgency prompted and sustained by Pakistan. This analogy was not sustainable. The Chogyal had alienated his own people and a powerful hostile neighbour was not supporting him. Kazi had emerged as the saviour of the people. His independent image would have helped in building up a better political and economic infrastructure for Sikkim.

PEOPLE’S VICTORY: DEFEAT OF THE JOKERS.

Most human organizations that fall short of their goals do so not because of stupidity or faulty doctrines, but because of internal decay and rigidification. They grow stiff in the joints. They get in a rut. They go to seed.

James Gardner.

I returned to Gangtok from a short stint of holiday in the southern peninsula, on January 23, 1977, after receiving a message from the IB that I should get back to my station after cutting short my holidaying. The order was prompted by the decision of the prime minister on January 18 to hold Parliamentary election on March 17, 1977. My colleagues told me that she had taken the decision against the expressed opposition from Sanjay and assessment of her intelligence advisors. She had also ordered the release of most of the political detainees. It was a bold decision. That she decided to face the truth after a period of stupefied surrender to her notorious son spoke volumes of her intrinsic faith in democracy and the people of India. Indira had clearly realised that she could carry the emergency on for an indefinite period only to the peril of the country and her permanent destruction, political and probably physical. Her dependence on Sanjay had started frightening her. It was probably the proverbial case of the witch standing before the mirror and suddenly realising that she was no witch at all; she was the dame of democracy and daughter of a visionary, she was the torchbearer of a rich heritage. Indira’s self-realisation had prevented her from plunging into the perilous course of permanently damaging the rich Indian democracy.

But Indira’s woes were compounded by the sudden demise of President Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed and that was followed by resignation of Jagjivan Ram from her cabinet and floating of a new party, Congress for Democracy. Hemavati Nandan Bahugana, the chief minister of Uttar Pradesh, and Indira’s aunt and old personal family bug, Vijay Lakshmi Pandit, joined his bandwagon. Sanjay, the sandman, who had donned vain steel armour, had collapsed. The fountain of his power, his mother, had rebelled against him. For a while it appeared that the old Indira, the daughter of a chronic democrat Jawaharlal and an ardent disciple of Mahatma Gandhi, had found her feet again.

I admired her bold decision
and liked to believe
that Sanjay, who had taken advantage of the temporary political amnesia of his mother Indira, committed most of the emergency excesses. I did write a personal letter to her, thanking for the brave decision. I was not told about the fate of this letter by her aides. I did not expect. I wanted to see the Durga of 1971 to have a reincarnation.

Did Sanjay have any secret weapon to blackmail his mother? I did not believe in many of the stories that linked Indira with dubious male stalkers, who walked the political stretch along with her. She had suffered much as a child. She had seen her mother being humiliated and tormented. She did not enjoy a blissful married life. Her sons’ intellectual achievement often dismayed her. She wasn’t happy with Sanjay’s marriage. However, it would be preposterous to imagine that Sanjay had in his possession some scandalous material that he used to paralyse his mother’s political will.

I would like to revert to this aspect a little later.

Back in Sikkim the Kazi government and the Congress party were not in the best of health. The contentious issue of citizenship and Sikkim subject had brought to the fore the latent communal bitterness that existed between the numerically superior Nepalis and the politically superior Bhutia and Lepchas. In his heart of heart Kazi was not in favour of granting citizenship to all and sundry Nepali settlers and he was keen to go by the letter and spirit of Sikkim Subject Register.

Narbahadur Khatiwada had raised his voice in favour of Nepali rights even when he enjoyed the confidence of Kazi. His Nepali proclivities had also alienated Kazini Eliza Maria. But Khatiwada used his Youth Congress plank to advocate the Nepali cause more than any other Nepali politician did. But the dazzling spark of Sikkim’s revolution had other things in mind.

Little before Jagjivan Ram reneged against Indira Kazi called me to his office and wanted my opinion on accommodating Khatiwada in his cabinet. The idea was not new. But Khatiwada was an anathema to R. C. Paudyal, B. P. Dahal and even S. K. Rai, a party stalwart. They were opposed to his induction to the cabinet and their efforts were fortified by some of the bureaucrats on deputation, against whom Khatiwada had spoken vociferously. I supported the idea and advised Kazi that by inducting Khatiwada he could avert an impending split in the party. I sent a report to Delhi on my discussions with Kazi and also kept the Governor posted.

However, Eliza Maria and some of the cabinet colleagues prevented Kazi. I was given to understand that the Governor too was opposed to the idea. After a couple of days of the formation of Congress for Democracy by Jagjivan Ram Narbahadur Khatiwada dropped in at my residence well after midnight and informed that he was quitting Congress to join the new party floated by Jagjivan Ram. He was in touch with Ram’s son Sushil and a few other rebel Congress leaders. I was not concerned with his political decision. My concern was the professional link that I had assiduously built up for over last two years. We maintained our relationship strictly on professional basis and his political somersault did not affect my performance.

But the irrepressible police commissioner, who had mounted surveillance on Khatiwada, was not happy over my links with the stormy petrel. He summoned me to his office and demanded a clarification. I was aghast over the audacious attitude. Khurana was a drunken blob. But I was surprised to see that he had lost his professional sanity too. I returned after giving a curt reply that my relationship with my professional friends did not come under his policing jurisdiction.

Khatiwada was true to his assertion. He parted Kazi’s company with three members of the legislative assembly, reducing the strength of the ruling party to 28, in a house of 32. K. C. Pradhan, the most instable political needle of Sikkim, temporarily sided with Khatiwada. The Congress for Democracy organised series of rallies and criticised Indira Gandhi, who was reduced to ‘randi Indira’ (widow Indira) from ‘
Indira mai
’ (mother Indira). Kazi’s alleged misrule, interference by the Governor and ‘unholy influence’ of the officers on deputation were his stock arrows. He did not come out clearly against the ‘deceitful merger’ of Sikkim. But one of his friends was motivated to produce a document that Khatiwada had prepared for submission to the new government. I was advised that a lady advocate of the former Chogyal had helped Khatiwada in preparing that document. I kept Delhi informed but did not share this information with the governor.

I was not surprised by Khatiwada’s metamorphosis. What for politicians were if they did not take a couple of pole vaults, somersaults and back rolls? He wasn’t the first Sikkimese politician to change colour.

Kazi was affronted by another political development when Narbahadur Bhandari, a Sikkimese nationalist and a former Chogyal loyalist floated a new party on March 22, 1977. Bhandari left no hedge between his loyalty to Sikkim and hatred against the ‘desh bechuas.’

The March 17 national election resulted in the rout of Congress and personal defeat for Indira and Sanjay. No optimist had ever imagined Indira’s return after what she had done during the emergency regime under wrong advice and evil influence of Sanjay.

The ragtag Janata Party government wasn’t exactly what Jayaprakash Narayan had envisioned. Another pack of hungry politicians had replaced Indira’s team and hate Indira and finish Indira was the only national programme they could manage to formulate. They too followed the Congress practice of dismissing the provincial governments and ordering fresh elections. It was the most unfortunate practice that the Indian democracy was shackled to. Indira had started the practice way back in 1958 in Kerala and the new Janata messiahs emulated her with vengeance.

Sikkim, a small state with only one Parliamentary seat did not affect the political destiny of India. But the witches in the Janata government court were insistent on dismissing the Sikkim government too. Kazi Lehndup had two options. He could either play the ‘
aya ram gaya ram
’ (historically Kazi preceded Bhajanlal, the Haryana hero of Indian democracy) game and join Janata Party en block or face summary dismissal.

Kazi Lehndup personally rang me up to see him at his residence after 11 p.m. We usually conversed in Nepali. But that night I was intrigued by the use of broken English used by the chief minister. Kazi was fond of
chhang
(millet beer) and Scotch. He liked to retire after a few early drinks unless the affairs of the state required his late night presence. I was never a connoisseur of alcoholic beverage, but I mostly accepted his offer of
chhang
, which helped my penetration into his grooves. Otherwise an inscrutable Lepcha noble, Kazi very often opened up over
chhang
served in bamboo container.

“I’m under pressure to join the Janata Party,” He opened up in the confines of his bedroom, “What should I do?”

“Who is pressurising you?”

“Everybody,” Kazi continued, “The Governor and a few officers here and Madhu Limaye and George Fernandez in Delhi.”

“What is your gut feeling?”

“I think I should not. But the Governor says that Sikkim is dependent of central assistance and grant and my people would starve if I refuse to join the ruling party.”

I explained to Kazi, under oath of secrecy, that he should not switch over again. The first switch over to Indira Congress had eroded his credibility and popular base. Another change could create political crisis for him.

“Khatiwada is with Bahuguna and Jagjivan. They might topple me and make him the chief minister.”

Kazi’s argument was simple.

“I don’t think they would do that. I suggest you revert back to Sikkim National Congress and try to move nearer to the people of Sikkim. Changes in Delhi should not worry you.”

I was not sure that I could motivate Kazi that night. Next morning I transmitted my assessment to Delhi and pronto came a lightening call from the desk analyst. My presence was urgently required for certain consultations.

*

I had a prolonged meeting with the desk analyst and tried to convince him that Kazi was on the verge of losing his grip on the electorate. The people of the state did not like his joining the Congress. Another switch over could jeopardise his political existence and that would signal the rise of the pro-Chogyal forces. My senior colleague was not convinced and I was presented before the Union Home Minister, a sun burnt ambitious Jat from western Uttar Pradesh. He looked up at me and kindly offered a seat and spoke a single sentence.

“Get Kazi join my party.”

That was the end of the dialogue. I took a flight back to Baghdogra and broke my journey at the parlour of Kazi before I went home. The troubleshooting journalist and the Bhikshu and a couple of other hangers on surrounded him. I called him aside and shared with him the wishes of the Union Home Minister. Kazi looked up with his big eyes and spoke an enigmatic sentence in Nepali.

“
Huncha. Tara Dilli mo lai football josto lath mardaicha.
”

It meant that he would oblige Delhi but regretted that Delhi was kicking him around like a football. I was not amused by the comment. He was really a football, which had very little option but to be kicked around. He had agreed to be kicked around by Delhi in the oust-Chogyal game and it was now impossible for him to quit the arena without being kicked again and again, till he was kicked out of the stadium.

Finally, in a classic action of political prostitution Kazi merged the Sikkim unit of Congress with the Janata Party, which gave a unique opportunity to his political rivals to chisel out his coffin. The final nails were hammered in after the next election to the state assembly. Kazi was consigned to political oblivion. I would like to tell a few more snippets about the humiliation that this giant of a person suffered in the courts of Delhi politicians.

Kazi’s switch over to the Janata Party had outwitted Narbahadur Khatiwada. He tried to maintain the distinct identity of his party by renaming it as Sikkim Prajatantra Congress and made overtures to the leadership of the Congress (I). But Indira’s political advisors preferred to dissolve the state unit. She had other priorities than attending the affairs of the Sikkim unit of Congress, which did never exist at the grassroots level.

Having lost the grassroots support Kazi started depending more on the Governor and a band of officers who identified their own survival with that of the chief minister. I was pained to see the pathetic state of affairs, but could do very little to motivate my seniors in Delhi to suggest some course correction to the political leadership. The self-righteous Janata conglomerate busied itself with a single agenda: demolish Indira and punish her associates.

The situation in Sikkim was aggravated over the issue of communal representation, re-determination of the proportionate representation by the people of Nepali, Bhutia and Lepcha origin. The new breed of Indians who had started seeping into the social and political capillaries of Sikkim also demanded equal rights with the Sikkim citizens. Kazi, at his heart of heart was opposed to the abolition of preferred representation ratio to the minority Bhutia, Lepcha and Tsongs. The Indian bureaucrats’ thinking process was conditioned by general Indian susceptibility to the threat of unhindered migration of Nepali citizen to India and the brewing political agitation in the Darjeeling hills.