Open Secrets: The Explosive Memoirs of an Indian Intelligence Officer (28 page)

INSIDE THE
KALACHAKRA

(WHEEL OF TIME)

The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it.

George Bernard Shaw.

The beautiful ambiance of Sikkim and the quick pace of consolidation of the gains of ‘merger’ were not able to soften the disposition of at least one individual, P. R. Khurana, the police commissioner. He was mighty unhappy over my meetings with the former Chogyal and the visits of the Crown Prince Tenzing Namgyal to our modest home. He even resented my meetings with Jigdal Densappa, M. M. Rasaily and Narbahadur Bhandari. Another person, Narbahadur Khatiwada, the stormy petrel of Sikkim politics, was added to his hate list, because the Kazini had disowned her ‘adopted son’ soon after entrenching herself at the Mintokgong residency of the chief minister. He refused to recognise the fact that an intelligence operative is required to kiss even a venomous cobra.

Narbahadur Khatiwada and his band of fiery youths had helped Kazi Lehndup in mobilising the much needed Nepali support to his movement. Young Nepali leaders like Khatiwada and N. K. Subedi had wholeheartedly supported Kazi out of expectation that in a constitutional monarchy the Nepalis would get a better deal and be treated as equal to the Bhutias and Lepchas. Khatiwada’s youth brigade had successfully opposed the pro-Chogyal forces represented by Narbahadur Bhandari and others. Even Ram Chandra Poudyal, another Nepali youth leader, and a minister in Kazi’s cabinet, did not measure up to the popularity of Khatiwada. But the Kazini’s milk of kindness dried up after Khatiwada started questioning the propriety of outright merger of Sikkim with India. He preferred a lose tie with the big neighbour and a constitutional monarchy. Kazi Lehndup too had not
barga
ined for total merger, but he was outwitted by Delhi. Kazi was not undiplomatically curt to the youth leader. But Kazini’s options varied between extremes. After being lodged at the Mintokgong she discovered that Khatiwada had become an agent of the Chogyal and his close friend Mohon Gurung of Rhenok had developed Communist links. The police commissioner took Kazini’s orders rather seriously and started haunting Narbahadur Khatiwada.

My orders from Delhi were very clear. They wanted me to win over the turbulent youth leader and bring him back to the proximity of Kazi. His mischief potential could not be underrated. Delhi’s view had synchronised with my views: Khatiwada could not be allowed to whip up Nepali sentiment and destabilise the Kazi government. Besides the Nepali youths Khatiwada had made inroads into the Sangha constituency that gave him added strength. His strategy of uniting the Nepalis and the Bhutias against Delhi’s winning horse Kazi should be frustrated. These assessments acquired new dimensions after Narbahadur Khatiwada initiated a process of challenging some of the actions of the Governor.

I was not in a position to share these analyses with Khurana. He was a virtual leaking pot and the leaks multiplied after his sundown whisky eroded all banks of reason and training. On September 21 he invited me to his residence for an evening drink. I was, like many others were, mortally afraid of his invitation to drinks. His sundown session normally started around 6.30 p.m. and continued well after the midnight.

On my arrival he insisted on my giving him company. I agreed to hold a glass while he spoke.

“Are you aware that there is an emergency in the country?”

“Yes sir,” I replied, “It was imposed on the 25th of June under Article 325 of the Constitution.”

“Give me one reason as to why action should not be taken against you under the emergency provisions for your anti-national activities.”

I did not expect the bombshell.

“What are you hinting at?”

“You’re a regular visitor to the palace, the Crown Prince visits you regularly, you keep company of the traitors and you’re conspiring with Khatiwada and Bhandari to topple the government of Kazi.”

Khurana, already on high whisky trip, accosted me with sinister charges.

“Are you ready to give these charges in writing?”

“I don’t require. I’ll put you behind the bars.”

“Tell me under what provisions of the law and under what emergency provisions.”

“You’re not sharing your reports with me. You know that your DIB is my friend and he has authorised me to have full reports from you.”

“I’m not aware of any such orders from Delhi. Please ask the DIB to give me written orders.”

I stood up and said good night to the inebriated police chief.

I reported the matter to Delhi and kept the Governor posted with an unsigned report. He counselled me to bear with his police chief and to maintain a solid front ‘against the forces of threat to national integrity.’

*

My first major disagreement with the Governor surfaced sometime in November 1975. He called me to his official residence and asked my view on the propriety of merger of Sikkim National Congress of L. D. Kazi with the Indian National Congress (I), Indira Gandhi’s ruling party in Delhi.

I nursed my own opinion on the imposition of internal emergency that I hadn’t shared with anyone. We all were living through a difficult period. It was not safe to speak out. Indira Gandhi was forced to arm herself with the emergency and several amendments to the Constitution. She was isolated from the people and the reins were hijacked by Sanjay Gandhi, her younger son. Only the braves and fools could dare misguided Mrs. Gandhi and her son.

I did not lack in bravery but I had failed to develop confidence in the political forces that opposed her. The motley combination of the Jan Sangh, RSS, and Socialists of different hues, breakaway congressmen and regional satraps had succeeded in building up sporadic resistance but were yet to generate confidence that they were the political alternative to Indira. Moreover I understood the stake. As the only bread earner I had a binding duty to protect my family.

I, therefore, did not like the idea of swimming with the emergency tide, but at the same time tried to fathom the turbulence created by the Jayaprakash Narayan’s movement. My old friends in the Sangh Parivar (RSS) (identity hided on their request) were in touch with me and one of them based in Varanasi had eluded the police dragnet and was picked up by me from Siliguri. He had initiated me in the RSS ideology way back in 1953. He was my houseguest for a few weeks and later left for Assam for organising the anti-emergency forces. He gave me to understand that the Parivar was making a definite bid to share power in the centre after Indira was ousted. Was it possible for the Parivar to share power with the ideologically opposed political forces? His reply came in the form of an enigmatic smile. Power, he said, was not a Hindu wife. It could be shared even with the oddest bedmate, but only for a while. Such sharing alone could prepare the Parivar for staking greater claims to the reins of the nation. I was not yet convinced about the efficacy of this theory. But I supported him with some money for his work in Assam. For obvious reasons I cannot name him. He is still an important functionary of the RSS, though he had fallen foul of the BJP government leaders.

In fact, I was in a confused state of mind. I adored Indira and endorsed some of her tough actions that aimed at putting the country on the rails. But I hated her failure to abide by the court orders and at least a temporary abdication in favour of a trusted colleague. I developed positive aversion for Sanjay and the goons that surrounded him. He was the first sinner to drag down Indian democracy to the streets and put the mantle of anarchy on it. He worked devotedly to destroy the democratic edifices, which his grandfather had helped in putting together.

Nevertheless, I was yet unable to trust the intrinsic capability of the crowd that had gathered around Jayaprakash Narayan and the efficacy of the Sangh Parivar working in tandem with the conflicting political forces.

Amidst a chaotic political scenario Indira Gandhi was planning to hold the annual Congress party session in Chandigarh. Sanjay Gandhi, appointed to the executive committee of the Youth Congress had, in fact, hijacked the party affairs. He had started dictating terms on the politicians and the bureaucrats.

The Governor wanted my views on the desirability of merger of the Sikkim National Congress with the INC (I) during its Chandigarh session. I was not surprised by the question. Kazi Lehndup had already discussed the matter with me and I had informally advised him to maintain the distinct Sikkimese identity of his party. That would, I reasoned, enhance his image and enable him to fight the stigma of ‘
desh bechoa
’. Kazi was not a decisive person and he was not attuned to the political skulduggery of Delhi. He was under pressure from Delhi and the ‘deputationist officers’ too worked on him to make the intended merger possible. I had kept Delhi informed about my dialogue with Kazi and had recommended that preservation of the Sikkimese identity of SNC would go a long way in strengthening Kazi’s position and consolidating the gains of the ‘merger’.

I said the same thing to Governor B. B. Lal. My arguments were elementary:

Kazi and his legislators were described by the common people as ‘
desh bechoa
’ and Alibaba and 31 thieves. The later allusion was directed at the elected representatives to the Sikkim Assembly, who behaved less responsibly than wayside minor thieves. They were used to give stamps of approval to all major decisions formulated by the Governor and implemented by Kazi’s cabinet. They were a frustrated lot. With the merger they had lost their relevance and were denied the crumbs they received from the agents of Delhi. They had to depend on the mercies of Kazi and Kazini and the fringe loots that came their way. The Governor and his men failed to measure the degree of frustration of these elected people. The village folks hated them and the integrated socio-political forces of Sikkim had abandoned them.

All were not hunky dory with the Kazi government. There were serious charges of corruption against some of the ministers.

The merger of Sikkim, I argued, should not wipe out the Sikkimese identity of its political forces. The Indian states are states within the State and enjoyed their distinct political character, linguistic and ethnic identity. Kazi’s merger with Congress would cast deeper shadows on his personal integrity and his capability to uphold Sikkim’s uniqueness. The fear of ‘Indian influx’ inside Sikkim was stalking the minds of the hill state. I cited the example of the NNO, the major pro-Indian political force in Nagaland.

Kazi, I argued, should be allowed to project an independent image. That, I felt, should allow him to win over the confidence of the people and build up a broad base in support of his action of merging Sikkim with India. My strong views that merger of the SNC with the INC (I) would not strengthen the national party and brighten up its Emergency tainted image did not please many.

The Governor did not agree with me. He felt that the merger of SNC with the INC (I) would complete the process of Sikkim’s political unification with India. I did not agree. But the top man has always the advantage of being correct. History, rather near future developments, vindicated my arguments. Kazi, the creator of modern Sikkim, was thrown to political garbage and newer forces, headed by Narbahadur Bhandari, a man of principle turned political thug, had marginalized him permanently.

I would like to share my thoughts on this aspect a little later, when the same Governor and his advisers forced Kazi to switch over from Congress to the motley Janata Party. That was another pitiable instance of ‘leaning tower’ syndrome of Indian bureaucracy.

But B. B. Lal was not a mean person. He agreed to disagree with me and persuaded Kazi to board a plane at Baghdogra with his legislative assembly members for Chandigarh, where the Congress party was to meet in December 1975. Kazi returned to Gangtok as a lion. But it was a paper lion. He had lost his political relevance in Sikkim after he merged his party with the INC (I). The politically conscious people of the state did not share the assumed happiness of the masters in Delhi and their representatives at Gangtok. The vox populi condemned the final action of sell out. Kazi Lehndup Dorji Khangsarpa, the tallest political person in Sikkim and the last of the honest one, was entrapped by the mindless political manoeuvres of Delhi. Overnight he became a hated hunchbacked dwarf.

The Chogyal played his cards deftly. Several stalwarts of the ruling party were contacted by his agents and incited them against Kazi’s leadership. Very subtle efforts were made to distance the Sangha leaders and some of the important
Gompa
(monastery)
Rimpoches
(holy religious heads) to spread words of disapproval of the actions of Kazi Lehndup and his political colleagues. Tenzing Namgyal, the youthful Crown Prince, spearheaded the silent but effective campaign. Some of the staunch followers of the Chogyal had succeeded in infiltrating the camp of Narbahadur Khatiwada, the impatient youth leader abandoned by Kazi and Kazini. Khatiwada had teamed up with odd partners who represented pro-monarchist views. A few followers of Jayaprakash Narayan operating from Bihar-Bengal borders tried to allure Khatiwada to their camp.

Delhi’s instructions were clear. They did not want any destabilising game to be played by the opponents of Kazi. Under a well-researched intelligence operation I befriended Khatiwada and his charming young wife Hemlata. I was a frequent late night visitor to their modest Deorali home and Khatiwada too started visiting my official residence well after the sundown.