Open Secrets: The Explosive Memoirs of an Indian Intelligence Officer (16 page)

I returned home well after 10 p.m. and straight away went to my office after a quick dinner. In the midst of preparation of crash teleprinter and cipher messages to Delhi, Kohima and Shillong Sunanda came rushing to my office room to convey that Gopal Dutta wanted me immediately in the Raj Niwas. I escorted her back to our next-door residential home and boarded the van for negotiating the short stretch of road to the Raj Niwas. I was stopped by another jeep, from which alighted Holkhomang Haokip, a young Kuki leader from Henglep, and Arthur, a slightly built Tangkhul. Arthur worked for the government of Nagaland but acted as the political assistant to Rishang Keishing.

They added two fresh inputs: The United Front Legislature Party (the dissidents) had elected Md. Alimuddin as its leader and its strength had swelled to 20, in a house of 32.

Arthur had a different story to tell. The Naga Federal Government (NFG) had deputed three special task forces to Ukhrul to disturb the Prime Minister’s meeting and they were armed with Light Anti Aircraft Guns (LAAG). It would not be safe for the PM to fly into Ukhrul. He also gave me to understand that several ambushes were set up around the serpentine Imphal Ukhrul road. I thanked them and rushed to the Raj Niwas.

I was ushered in by Gopal Dutta into a room where Indira Gandhi was seated with a big scowl on her face.

She looked up and asked if I was the person who had originated the reports she was leafing through. I nodded silently in affirmation.

“Did you share these with the local authorities?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What else do you have to add?”

I looked at Gopal Dutta and narrated the latest inputs I had received from Holkhomang Haokip and Arthur. She noted down the details in a scrapbook and spoke slowly.

“See me in Delhi. I’d like to discuss something. Call up Dhawan. He would arrange it.”

Dutta escorted me out and spoke in a whisper.

“Thanks my dear boy. You’ve saved the day for the Intelligence Bureau.”

“Are you taking her to Ukhrul?”

“I don’t think she would like to go there after what you’ve shared with her.”

“Should I see her in Delhi?”

“Come over. I’d discuss the matter with the DIB and let you know.”

I returned home well after two a.m. and landed before the anxious eyes of Sunanda. It was a day and night of disaster and triumph. My credentials as an intelligence officer were partially redeemed. It was a moment of victory in a way. I was propelled by the desire to learn the techniques of gathering intelligence, basically HumInt, (Human intelligence), and refining the tradecraft that I happened to learn at Anand Parvat School of the IB.

Perfection had always been a dream and a thing of beauty and inspiration to me. My obsession with perfection often landed me in trouble. Only much later in life I realised that there was nothing called perfection. To a Neolithic man a rough-hewn stone arrowhead was a perfect tool. The USA and USSR thought that thermonuclear bombs are the perfect killers. Perfection was a state of mind, a matter of perception, a make believe confluence of time, space, mind and matter.

That night I pumped some air of ego inside my troubled mind and suckled a vain satisfaction that I had achieved some degree of perfection. My passionate attachment to my skill had outsmarted the blind beliefs of a bunch of men drunk with power and corrupted to the hilts. I liked to believe that I was destined to be a successful intelligence operator.

The satisfaction had buoyed up my spirits and I woke up early and spent some time in the office to scribble a cipher to Delhi, Kohima and Shillong about the events of the last 24 hours and the strange encounter with the PM, minus her gracious invitation.

I walked into the wireless room and activated the channel to Ukhrul. There was plenty of bad news. The officer at Ukhrul presented a horrible picture. Our agents inside the Naga underground outfits had given ample indications that self-styled Colonel Peter (name changed) had planned an elaborate arrangement to exhibit Naga muscles to the Indian PM.

I rushed down to the Raj Niwas and briefed Gopal Dutta. He took me to a side and said that the PM had cancelled her Ukhrul engagement and was instead flying to Kohima.

As we stood on the stairs to the front lawns of the Raj Niwas news came that the convoy in which M. Ramunny, the Security Commissioner and T .J. Quinn the DIG were travelling back to Imphal had been ambushed by the Naga insurgents and that both of them were injured. Someone rushed to inform the PM, who was getting ready to board the helicopter from the nearby Assam Rifles compound.

We saw off the PM who, before boarding the chopper told the journalists that the attack on her was ‘premeditated.’ She refused to elaborate but conveyed that she had enough information to support her comment.

That very day the Congress government suffered a defeat on the floor of the legislative council on a no-confidence motion moved by Salam Gambhir Singh. The Union Territory was brought under the President’s rule on October 16, 1969.

It’s not that my hurt ego has prompted me to record the detailed account of the incidents. I have done so to record the pathetic state of affairs of VIP security arrangements and how idiosyncrasies of small time bureaucrats can endanger the lives of important personalities. That terrorists and assassins can pass through the eyes of the needles was proved irrevocably at the cost of the nation: assassination of Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi. Very important functionaries around them were callous. The event, I believe, had prompted the security managers of IB to review the security rules and drills for the Prime Minister and other VIPs.

*

The Chief Commissioner and his coterie were not too pleased to see me emerging unscathed out of a series of nasty incidents that had sent Manipur into a spin. I took the initiative to restore normal relationship by periodically sharing unsigned reports with the IGP on law and order situation. I regretted my inability to share signed reports with him. I had lost confidence in this veteran inspector of Punjab police. The Chief Commissioner, lacking in behavioural grace, did not derive the correct lesson from the September fiasco. We had a couple of more brushes, rather nasty ones.

The tension of cohabiting with untrustworthy senior executives had some adverse effects on my health. We decided to cool it out at Moreh, the small smuggling hamlet on Indo-Burma border. It was a business cum pleasure trip.

India did not enjoy happy diplomatic relationship with the Ne Win regime in Burma. The Naga rebel groups under self-styled general Kaito Sema and later under Mowu Angami had developed bases in Burma Naga areas and they used the Tsawlaw, Hkamti, and Laksangwang route to Xianguang province of China. Besides using a part of the Second World War vintage Stillwell Road, they often used an alternative route through Hkamti, Shaduzup, and Auche above Mytkina and entered China through Shibei in the Baoshan administrative unit of Xianguang province. Much later they developed easier routes through the Nocte, Wanchoo inhabited areas of Arunachal Pradesh and the Heimi Naga areas in Burma to the Yunan province of China. The Burmese Army either did not have the resources or they lacked the will to intercept the Naga rebel groups invited to China for training and supply of arms and ammunition.

The Naga groups had also developed working relationship with the Shan, Kachin rebels of Burma, and they received tacit help from the Burmese Communist parties; Red and White Flag. Some left over elements of the Kuomintang regime also traded weapons with the Indian Nagas in exchange of cash. However, the Kuomintang element operating in the Chinese tribal areas had started large scale dealing in opium and opium derivatives.

The Nagas were not alone to use the Burmese territory. The Mizo rebels, besides being hosted in the Chittagong Hill Tracts of East Pakistan often camped at Darling, Falam and other Kuki and Chin inhabited villages in the Monywa Division of Burma. They were noticed traversing to the Chinese administrative sub-unit of Luxi in the Xianguang province through Kalewa, Chatkyi, Sikaw and Mong Yu areas in the Chindwin and Irrawady valleys.

The Kuki and Chin population of Burma living in the administrative units under Singgel, Sekshi, Pantha, Kuzet and Thygon often assisted the Mizo rebels. They too wanted to migrate to India. A nascent move was made by them demanding merger of the Burmese Kuki and Chin areas with India.

It was a dangerous move. The Kukis and other allied tribes had originally migrated to Manipur from Burma at a point of time when hegemony of the Manipur kings often stretched up to the Kabow valley and the banks of Chindwin. Jawaharlal Nehru had formally ceded the Kabow valley to Burma. The Meiteis of Manipur still consider it as an integral part of their territory.

As the central intelligence officer in Manipur I was not directly concerned with the Naga and Mizo traffic to China. But the nagging Naga insurgency in Manipur hills and the spill over of the Mizo insurgency required my attention. I had set up a few temporary intelligence posts to monitor these developments and also to keep vigil on the activities of the Burmese Kukis and Chins.

I was accidentally introduced to Col. Aung Than (name changed), the Burmese Army officer located at Tamu, during one of my sightseeing visits to the dusty Burmese town. It turned out that his wife Suyii had her schooling in Calcutta and she had developed a liking for the music composed by Rabindra Nath Tagore. That helped us in exploiting the accidental meeting to a lasting friendship. On our Christmas Eve trip to Moreh Sunanda packed two Benarasi saris and a few records of Tagore’s songs. I packed a carton of Dunhill for the Colonel. He loved smoking the American brand.

We spent the Xmas eve night at village Khunthak Khullen, where the former commander of the 10th battalion Naga Army had organised a reception for us. The festivities culminated in colourful Naga dances and excellently cooked Naga food. We were flooded with heaps of Naga shawls, the Anal, Maring, Moyal and Tangkhul shawls. In return we presented a case of XXX rum to the village elders and an amount of rupees three hundred to the village church. I must say that the gifts were parts of IB’s secret service expenditure. Such occasions and exchange of gifts helped in generating intelligence worth millions of rupees.

We visited Tamu next day and renewed our contacts with the Burmese officer and his wife. We reached an informal agreement that my officer at Moreh would exchange information with him pertaining to the Naga and Mizo rebel groups. We exchanged data on the Kuki and Chin movements in Burma and assured, as I was told by Delhi, that India had no intention whatsoever to encourage these migratory populations. I couldn’t invite Col. Aung over to the Indian side, as I was aware of restrictions imposed on him by the military regime in Rangoon.

The other reason that compelled me to visit Moreh was to conduct an informal enquiry into the allegations of smuggling activities of the IB post in charge Nambiar (name changed). He worked for a cartel of gem dealers in Madras and often carried the smuggled goods to Calcutta, where the agents of the Madras dealers took delivery against cash.

I had brought his undesirable activities to the notice of my superior at Kohima. He did not agree to take disciplinary action. Much later I came to notice that the wife of a particular senior officer used the services of Nambiar to acquire gold ornaments from Tamu. A few pieces of high carat ruby, I was told, were presented to certain senior officers in Delhi too. The disease was not unique to Nambiar. The vast majority of the Indian officers posted to Manipur, irrespective of their service affiliation, indulged in smuggling of gold and precious stones. Some of them smuggled in valuable teak and agar wood from Burma for building plush homes back in their home turfs. The agar wood was sold at a high premium to the traders in Delhi, who exported the prized commodity to the foreign perfume manufacturers.

Before I walk over to another turf I should complete the Nambiar episode. His blatant smuggling activities encouraged by a few senior officers of the IB exasperated me. I was bent upon taking firm action to unravel his malpractices. Finally I acted on a complaint from one of my junior staff. He informed me that Namibia’s unchecked activities had turned the SIB unit as a smuggling den. His compliant was fortified by a letter from P.N. Banerjee, the regional head of the Research & Analysis Wing at Calcutta. At that point of time I was supervising both the IB and the R&AW posts in Manipur. He wrote about his information about Namibia’s objectionable activities.

I pursued a specific lead and arranged his compromise and detention by the Manipur police. A consignment of ruby was recovered from his baggage while he was travelling to Imphal by bus. The IB did not suspend the notorious officer. I was asked to carry out a departmental enquiry which was buried somewhere in the greased alleyway of the IB. Namibia, I was told, had flourished in the southern region of the IB in his later career.

*

Manipur had in the meantime a welcome change. Baleshwar Prasad was kicked up by his benefactors and was appointed India’s ambassador to Burma. A suave, civilised and tactful Lieutenant Governor, D.R. Kohl, replaced him. A member of the Indian Civil Service, Kohl brought along with him a whiff of fresh air.

He had before him multifaceted challenges. The agitation for statehood had started gathering steam. The announcement of grant of statehood to Himachal propelled the agitation to higher acceleration, which had not only captured the imagination of the Manipuris, but also the entire opposition and even a section of the ruling party.