Open Secrets: The Explosive Memoirs of an Indian Intelligence Officer (15 page)

K .N. Prasad visited my humble office. He interrogated me for over two hours and pumped out all that he wanted to hear. He also interrogated a few junior officers over the allegations of the Chief Commissioner. Finally he expressed a desire to see my wife at my residence just across the road.

Sunanda was aware that Prasad was trained in the same course as her father was. She did not leave any gap in making the terse social visit a cordial one. Finally she asked him to grace us by attending a dinner at our residence.

“How can I have dinner with you young lady when I’m supposed to conduct an enquiry against your husband?”

Prasad replied in his inimitable bullish style.

“How is it that you are a house guest of a person who is a party to the controversy?”

Sunanda spoke out in her usual spirited way. I was surprised by her reply and the choice of words.

“Aren’t you the daughter of Satyen?”

Prasad asked Sunanda about her father.

“Yes. But it has nothing to do with my request. We’ll be glad if you have dinner with us.”

Prasad rolled his big eyeballs for a while and broke into a roaring laughter. That was the first and last time I saw him laughing so loudly.

“Fine, young lady. I’d be honoured to be your house guest.”

Later, before boarding the flight for Calcutta Prasad called me to a corner and talked in a measured tone.

“Look, this man has good connections with the top home ministry officials and a couple of ministers. Delhi is a melting pot. We in the IB are not sure about the attitude of the Prime Minister. She is visiting the North East next month. Cooperate silently with the CC. I hope the storm would subside soon.”

“You can send me back to my state if the IB feels that I’m in the wrong.”

“Shut up. You’re doing an excellent job. Keep it up.”

Prasad left me more confused. As a greenhorn in the service I was yet to leave past my world of accountability, which was painted in black and white. I had just started learning the tricks of filtering the events around me through the prism that brought out several hues of colours. In that world there was no event horizon between one colour and the other. It took me several years to understand the complicated colouration of human character. Manipur, in effect, taught me to start pursuing my ‘personal agenda’ in matters related to promotion of my professional edges and to look forward to my political moorings. The Intelligence Bureau had failed to notice this transformation in a key field operator.

*

With the bizarre enquiry behind us we decided to cool off a little bit at the lonely
dak bungalow
(rest house) at Mao, situated under the Zapfu Hills, the tallest peak in the vicinity of the village of Angami Zaphu Phizo, the Naga leader.

Mao fascinated me for a number of reasons. Sunanda and I enjoyed the privilege of taking a leisurely walk up the hills towards the Zapfu and down the hills to Ruvunamei, Kalinamei village clusters and sit down below Mao Songsong church and see the village belles working terraced paddy fields. We were not afraid of the Naga rebels. In those golden days the Naga rebels, so also the Meitei militants observed strict codes of warfare. They did not attack the civilians and hardly disturbed a lady. An Indian traveller, alone or with a lady companion was more secure in the highly disturbed Naga areas than he was in the streets of Calcutta.

Over and above I had earned the faith of the Mao people through N. Asholi, a teacher turned school inspector and another gentlemen from Ruvunamei, who was the
Midanpeyu
(governor) of the Naga Federal Government. Our friendship transcended professional brief. My understanding that the Nagas are socially more gentle and courteous and a village guest is often treated with Biblical courtesy had instilled a unique confidence in me.

For the two blissful days the village dance group and a mammoth feast in the Kalinamei church compound relaxed us. Sunanda was asked by the village chief to prepare a Bengali style fish curry, which he said, he had tasted long back when he volunteered as a porter to the advancing Indian National Army. Chief Npfrumo (not real name) cherished his memory of the days he worked for the Indian liberation forces. He produced a huge quantity of rainbow trout and between Sunanda and me we managed to dish out a fish curry laced with strong mustard sauce.

A surprise gift came next morning when Ms. Ngaperimi (not real name) walked up to the
dak bungalow
and handed over a letter from a self-styled Colonel of the 13th Battalion Naga Army. The Colonel thanked us for the fish curry and expressed that the ‘curry street’ should be the better way for resolving the Naga tussle. I was foxed. I had no idea that the dreaded Naga Army Colonel too was present in the feast.

We were physically and spiritually relaxed. But the charm of the forested hills and the primitive villages was broken early next morning when a messenger from Kohima knocked at our door. He carried the order for my immediate return to Imphal and attend the security briefing meeting at the Raj Niwas, in which a senior officer from IB headquarter was to take part. The most important occasion was the proposed visit of Indira Gandhi to Imphal on September 23, 1969.

CHITRANGADA BETRAYED

Hypocrisy can afford to be magnificent in its promises; for never intending to go beyond promises, it costs nothing.

Edmund Burke

There was nothing to be happy about the security scenario. Both the Imphal Valley and the surrounding hills were on fire.

The Meitei had not only unfurled the flag of revolt under the banners of the Pan Mongolian Movement, the Revolutionary Government of Manipur and the United National Liberation Front, they had also embarked upon a series of peaceful and democratic agitation over the demand of Statehood status for Manipur. Merged with India in 1949 the former princely state was still administered as a Union Territory by a Chief Commissioner, in the same style as the British agents did in the thirties and forties. A section of the Meitei people was yet to accept the merger. Their arguments were woven around the facts that the king of Manipur was coerced to sign the merger agreement at Shillong under duress, that he was a constitutional head and had no right to sign away the sovereignty of the state and that there was no subsequent ratification of the agreement by the state assembly and the council of Ministers.

The ministry formed by the Praja Shanti Sabha was dissolved and a Chief Commissioner was imposed on Manipur rather brutally. Manipur’s interests were ignored and it was relegated to a Part C State.

The neighbouring Nagas were treated differently. The Naga Hills and Tuensang Area was inaugurated by the President of India as the 16th State of the Union of India on December 1, 1963. The developments in Khasi, Jaintia and Garo Hills too sent out messages that Delhi was preparing to create another state out of the existing political geography of Assam. That status was finally accorded in 1972. Himachal Pradesh and Haryana too were curved out of united Punjab after 1965 war with Pakistan, leaving a truncated a Punjabi Suba to the sulking Sikhs.

The Meiteis were hurt when the States Reorganisation Commission ignored their pleas and the proud kingdom was assigned the Union Territory status with Territorial Council, which, in fact, was made to work as doormat of the Chief Commissioners.

The agitation for statehood had grown virulent over years and to it were added some fresh revolutionary tinges by the Meitei militant groups and the ambience of violence prevailing in the neighbouring Nagaland, Naga areas of Manipur and the Mizo Hills.

Indira Gandhi was the second Prime Minister to visit Manipur. Her father visited the Part C State way back in 1950 along with the Burmese prime minister U Nu, during which an agreement was signed to cede the Kabow Valley to Burma, which was in de facto Burmese possession but on which Manipur had a de jure historical claim. The Meiteis had a historical and sentimental attachment to the valley that ran deep into the fertile plains of Burmese Chin hills.

Indira was a suspect in their eyes. They had learnt to hate her representative at Imphal Raj Niwas. The Congress Party government headed by M. Koireng Singh too was in trouble. He had failed to distance himself from the Raj Niwas ruler and his coterie of officers. Koireng Singh, a former associate of the Indian National Army, believed that he was built with the same stuff as P. S. Kairon in Punjab and B. C. Roy in West Bengal was made of. He, however, did not fail to assess the mood of the people. The All Manipur Students Union, a powerful youth body, had already given him notice. A few ministerial colleagues and a couple of legislators were on the verge of revolting against his leadership. They wanted a change.

Politically Manipur suffered from chronic instability, since the days of Manipur Territorial Council. Though Haryana had earned the dubious reputation of a state of
ayarams and gayarams
(chronic defectors), it’s Manipur, which suffered most for the hungry political jackals. They switched beds at the spin of coins and the very scent of the spoils of office.

The tenuous majority Congress government formed by M. Koireng Singh after several rounds of horse-trading stood on the foundation of treachery and betrayal. Another round of defection rocked the fragile ministry and the opposition headed by Y. Yaima Singh tabled a no confidence motion, which was admitted for discussion on September 24, 1969.

The mood in the valley was dark. The statehood agitation had entered a crucial stage. The ranks of the All Manipur Students Union (AMSU), the All Party Statehood Demand Committee and other organisations were infiltrated by the elements of the Meitei State Committee, CONSOCOM, UNLF, RGM, Pan Mongolian Movement, the Pan Mongolian Youth League and all reckonable major and minor political forces.

The valley revolutionaries were not prepared to mount physical assault on the PM. But they were determined to exploit the statehood agitation to the fullest extent. My agents could not ferret out any intelligence to support that there was a conspiracy to assassinate Indira Gandhi. Such later claims were concocted around the events of September 23. The discordant notes, however, produced a unified symphony. Indira Gandhi wasn’t welcome to Manipur, until she decided on the statehood issue.

The hills were already bleeding despite sustained military and para-military operations. The ambience of insurgency was buttressed by the demand of creation of a greater Nagaland with the merger of the Naga inhabited areas of Manipur and Assam. The Manipuri elements in the NNC, NFG and the Naga Federal Army made it clear that Indira Gandhi’s proposed visit to Ukhrul was not welcome. The underground followers of A.Z.Phizo were determined to stage an impressive show.

The IB representative, Sudhin Gupta, a senior Deputy Director, landed at Imphal as a single person advance security liaison officer to study the security arrangements made for the visit of Indira Gandhi to Imphal and Ukhrul. Gupta presented a detached look, not really interested in the intricate security requirements for the high profile visit. I found him unfit for the job.

I was kept out of the formal security liaison meetings. But the copies of my teleprinter messages to Delhi and those of my written dispatches on the possible law and order situation were shared with the IGP, the Chief Secretary, the Security Commissioner, M. Ramunny, and DIG T.J. Quinn as well as the commanders of the 57th and 59th Brigade at Churachandpur and Leimakhong respectively.

My efforts were rewarded by a terse call from the Chief Commissioner’s office to attend a meeting at his office on September 11. I was fully armed with a detailed assessment on the political situation, tenuous position of the government and threats posed by the valley militants and agitators and the Naga insurgents. The all-important meeting was attended by the top government officials and Brigadier S.K.Sinha, commander of the 56th Mountain Brigade (presently Governor of J&K).

The Inspector and the Deputy Inspector General of Police expressed satisfaction with the police, paramilitary and military preparations for the VIP visit. Brigadier Sinha briefed the meeting about strengthening of the security parameters in the hill districts of Churachandpur and Ukhrul, where the PM was supposed to pay flying visits.

The Chief Commissioner then took up the notes submitted by me and disagreed with almost all the observations. In fact, he should have not discussed the IB reports in an open meeting. Perhaps the idea of ridiculing me floated at the topmast strata of his mind rather than observing the traditional rule of listening to the spy in total isolation. He blew his top when it came to my objection to the venue of the meeting at Polo Ground, next to the congested market and the Johnston High School. I had pointed out that the only entry to the meeting ground was narrow and there was no clear demarcated exit route to evacuate the PM in the event of an emergency. I had suggested that the public meeting should be organised at the abandoned Koirangei airstrip site.

The dialogue went on something like this:

“You’re interfering into the matters of the state.”

“There’s no interference. I have made a set of suggestions. It’s up to you and Delhi not to accept those.”

“You’re a panic monger. Your reports are paranoiac.”

“I’ve nothing to comment sir.”

“You don’t teach me security with your precious four year service behind you.”

“I agree sir. But length of service does not determine the capability for generating intelligence.”

He dismissed me curtly. I walked out of the Raj Niwas with a resolve to convey verbatim the last evening’s proceedings to K.N. Prasad and Gopal Dutta, the IB Joint Director responsible for the Prime Minister’s security.

*

September 23 dawned on the verdant Vale of Imphal with a glorious sun. But the serene rural ambience was disturbed by the milling crowed that had started gathering around the Raj Niwas. They came from all conceivable directions shouting slogans in support of the demand for statehood. By 9 a.m. they clogged all the roads that connected the Raj Niwas to the airport and the meeting ground, next to the Chief Commissioner’s official residence.

The Prime Ministerial cavalcade was received with the usual pomp and ceremony. Gopal Dutta jumped into my van and grilled me on each and every bit of intelligence that I had catered to Delhi.

He was inclined to swim along with the reports of the Manipur government and gave me to understand that the Director Intelligence Bureau too had rated my reports as alarming.

“I hope the events would prove me correct.”

That’s all I could reply to the veteran sleuth, who happened to be a senior of Sunanda’s father.

The truth hit us in the form of stones and assorted non-lethal missiles, just outside the Tulihal airport. The milling crowd, mostly women and youths, tried to obstruct the VIP cavalcade and a small group surged forward ostensivly to submit a memorandum. The PM’s party was escorted out of the confusion and taken to the safety of the Raj Niwas with the use of minor force.

“Things appear to be bad.”

Gopal Dutta commented.

“I suggest you take a round and survey the meeting venue.”

He agreed. I took him out on foot and pointed out that the bamboo barricade installed at the meeting ground was not strong enough to withstand the pressure of the hostile crowd. The lane that the PM was supposed to take to visit the State Museum and the meeting rostrum was clogged by the agitating mob. The meeting ground was surrounded by a school and business establishment. There was no safe escape route that could be used to evacuate the PM in the event of an emergency. The rostrum faced a couple of four storey buildings barely three hundred yards to the north.

“You’re correct. The venue is not suitable for the PM’s meeting.”

Dutta walked back into the Raj Niwas and sat with the reports I had submitted.

“What about the visit to Ukhrul?”

“She should not go there. According to the latest intelligence input the Naga Army had inducted three new units to the Tangkhul inhabited district to present a show of strength.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve no doubt,” I replied with a confident voice, “There is another problem. The Koireng Singh ministry is likely to be toppled in tomorrow’s trial of strength.”

“But the CC says that the situation is under control.”

“I don’t agree.”

I shared with him the information that I had received from my political and professional friends. The opposition was in majority. They were determined to topple Koireng Singh. The PM, I concluded, should have not chosen such a politically volatile time to visit the state.

She too had plenty of political trouble to reckon with in Delhi. The Syndicate’s candidate for the Presidential election, Dr. Sanjeeva Reddy, was defeated by a very narrow margin by Indira’s nominee V.V.Giri. But her battle against the organisational coterie was far from over. The ouster of Morarji Desai, bank nationalisation and other politically oriented fiscal measures that were aimed at giving a pro-poor image to Indira were yet to strengthen her political base. The Kashmiri coterie that had surrounded her was not a universally admired and loved band of kitchen assistants.

Back to Manipur, a few of the rebel Congress leaders and opposition stalwarts were in touch with Nijalingappa, Morarji Desai, and Atulya Ghosh, leaders of the syndicate. The Manipur Congress rebels had gathered the cue from them as well as Indira’s own slogan of ‘conscience voting.’ They were determined to oust Koireng Singh.

Gopal Dutta accepted my assessment and walked into the room where the PM was busy confabulating with the Chief Minister and the Chief Commissioner. He came out in a couple of minutes and told me that the PM was determined to address the public meeting. I opposed the idea. She could only be taken to the Polo Ground with use of force and the frenzied mob wouldn’t take that kindly. They could even harm the PM. But Indira Gandhi was an inimitable person. And nobody had the courage to counsel her to the contrary.

The combined force of the police and the Central Reserve Police opened baton charge and cleared the short stretch of the lane that connected the Raj Niwas with the Polo Ground. Draped in a saffron
sari
she climbed the rostrum and started addressing the gathering in her usual shrill voice. The crowd surged forward demanding statehood. The bamboo barricaded wilted. Gopal Singh, the Superintendent of Police, and the IGP Madan Gopal stood like frozen logs. The police force started falling back in panic.

Gopal Dutta dragged me, went down to the IGP and the SP, and implored them to direct the police to use force for deterring the mob from storming the rostrum. Gopal Singh, a Manipuri officer, looked lost. Gopal Dutta asked him and Madan Gopal to regroup the police contingent and charge back the advancing mob. In the meantime he climbed the rostrum and helped Indira’s security officer to evacuate her to the safety of the Raj Niwas after R.D.Kapur, a young IAS officer, dispersed the hostile mob with another round of baton charge. Police fired from their muskets and the crowd retaliated by burning the jeep of the IGP and killing a CRPF sepoy. The pandemonium continued for hours together. The situation could be controlled only by imposition of curfew and by deploying the Army, which carried out flag march in the capital town and the adjacent localities.