UN Memoirs – 3 : Blurred Boundaries
By
Colonel Akhil Gupta
We were living in interesting times, when these events unfolded. Pokhran – II was only, a few months in the past. Musharraf’s backstabbing Kargil misadventure was still several months in the future. Indian euphoria was yet to be dimmed with western sanctions awaiting to creep in. Pakistan had caught up even it had to eat grass – Bhutto would have been celebrating, had it not been for the noose.
On joining the UN Mission in Angola, to blend in cross-cultural milieu and be a part of the flow in intermingling with all nationalities was expected from everyone. Indians were well known for their amiability and comradery in the Mission. Indian Army, which draws its soldiers with diverse traits, religion, linguistic backgrounds, cultures and traditions makes you more than able, to not just mingle but also imbibe parts of their peculiarities and become a bit of each of them. In Angola, we had representation from more than 20 countries: at least 3-4 from each of the 4 bigger continents less North America, while the Oceania was represented by Australians and New Zealanders. Spending an evening at the UN campus bar or the occasional celebration of National Days gave plenty of opportunities to greet and meet new faces and add on to your growing number of expatriate colleagues.
This was as good, as was expected, till I came face to face with Pakistani Amy Officers. All this while, we had learnt how to strike at the Nark forces, No rules of engagement had been taught to us at the Staff College, on how to extend a hand of friendship or be cordial to your sworn enemy. Any attempt to hide hostility would be a failure because hatred ran deep, and the deception would surface one way or the other. I thought, I could get away by ignoring with a cold glacial attitude. Fortunately, I was one of the 5 Regional Commanders, pretty much high in the order of pecking and could resort to look snobbish.
This delusion did not last long when I received a PAK army officer, Major Sayyed as part of my team. I was his superior in rank but frankly, it was not of any worthwhile consequence because no disciplinary powers could be exercised. Hence, it was time to review the manual of terms of engagement with enemy on a neutral foreign soil, that too, when its within your own chain of command. I changed tack, believing then, that coordinated and balanced dealing without fraternisation had to be the modus operandi. This was possible. After all, this appeared par for this course.
Little did I realise that ‘Life also teaches you never to take things for granted’. Soon this technique of detached clinical attitude started coming in the way, when with other team members one would joke, back slap and get together but retain a subtle professional and a disconnected stance with the enemy. If this was to last for a short duration, it was possible to maintain the façade, but we had to be in the same grouping for long. Another change was due. The walls had to be broken. Its for the senior to do so. It would have been taken as affrontery if the junior had initiated it. Ways had to be found in adopting simpler solutions.
In a few days, an opportunity arose that needed physical verification of violation of ceasefire where there was a possibility of a face-off with armed rebels. As UN Observers, we were not allowed to carry arms, and with other nationality officers being green horns, I decided to lead the 2 Observer team with Sayyed. I asked Sayyed to go over the situation with the Operations Officer, study the lay of the land and be prepared for the task at hand. We would leave in half an hour and he should meet me outside the building. In the UN, you do not get a driver, so I drove my vehicle near the gate and was pleased to see that so had Sayyed. I asked him to leave his vehicle and hop into mine. He hesitated for a moment but seeing that I motioned to him to be quick, accepting no further delay, he quickly moved in. The move was planned to be the ice breaker.
The Govt representative with his posse of 4 soldiers led. We followed along with the QRT of Zambian contingent. While travelling, I asked Sayyed to give his assessment of the situation and how he intended to handle the investigation and the contingencies. His professional knowledge and understanding exhibited a good standard. Over the conversation, I asked him to be comfortable, encouraged him to speak in Punjabi-Hindi-Urdu, when he was at a loss of words for better explanation of the situation at hand. The task was soon done fortunately, without much excitement. We took a short 10 minutes break for a snack bite and commenced our return journey. It’s here, the opportunity existed to loosen the awkwardness further. I gave him a choice either to take over the wheel or sing a Bollywood song. I had heard him humming a number of times earlier. Moreover, driving someone else’s vehicle was usually a no-no since even a dent or God forbid, a minor accident would result in inquiry, losing your driving license, withdrawal of vehicle and to top it, a disproportionate monetary penalty. As anticipated, he sang quite a few numbers interspersed with discussing bollywood films and actors. By the time, we reached back, much to the astonishment of my team at the base, we were at ease with ourselves and were freely conversing in Punjabi-Hindustani, an alien language to all of them.
The acquaintance was to bloom further. With passage of time, either due to providence or some underhand machination, I was saddled with one more PAK army officer. When the 2 of them were observing their fasts during Ramzan period, they casually challenged me to observe one day of rituals with them. I agreed. The deal was to observe the day’s fast and break it with their iftar (meal after sunset for breaking the fast). The very thought of iftar with them was enticing. Whoever thought, I would ever want to eat my own cooked food has not tasted my broth. Well, at the end of the day after having observed the fast, in the iftar, they had planned beef alongside the usual dates, fruits and other delicacies. They were in for a shock, when in true spirit of friendship, I partook their food. A few days later, I invited them over to reciprocate their gesture. The meal included liquor and pork as part of the dinner. Of course, they failed in this reverse challenge. They politely rescinded on their promise and declined to eat pork. Unlike today’s PAK army, those days they would still share a drink without much demur, as long as it was not in public, but pork was still a no-no. They attributed many of such changes majorly brought in the army by their COAS turned martial law administrator turned president, the wily, Zia-ul-Haq.
They had a number of apprehensions and misconceptions about India. They refused to believe that Indian Army had muslim soldiers and especially officers. I had to make them talk over the sat-com with one of the muslim soldiers in Angola as part of the Indian contingent. To reaffirm, they asked him to recite aloud one ayaat (Kuran – verse) after another. This was indeed a ‘Lahaul
Wala Quwwat’ (OMG) moment for them. Further, they had heard but did not believe that a muslim could be a president of India. I had to seek Brazilian help for access to Yahoo search engine (Google had not picked up its monopoly then) to show that 3 of the India Presidents – Zakir Hussain, Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed and Mohd Hidayatullah had been muslims. Another muslim, APJ Abdul Kalam was to become President later. Over time, they acknowledged that a lot of misinformation about India is fed to them and is touted in their media. This attitude of ours, taking muslims along at equal footing was an eye opener for them.
It’s worth recalling another incident at the time of our departure from Angola. They were shocked to see us prepare for the stringent procedures of declaration with regard to baggage contents in terms of value to meet our custom requirements on arrival in India. Contrary to our situation, they happily told us that they would get a VIP treatment on return. They would be received at the aircraft stair case right on the tarmac. They would hand over their passports and travelling documents to the airport staff and would leave in the convoy of army vehicles. Baggage would be sent to their homes directly. This was a customary practice and nothing special, proving the oft repeated phrase ‘All nations have an army but Pak Army has a nation’.
Our goodbyes were accompanied with the usual pleasantries. They had one last request followed up by a surprise.
The request was not to mention a word of our friendly cordial relations and bonhomie developed over time to our High Commission in South Africa. In addition, also not to mention their occasional liquor consumption + not being regular in fitness training. They were mortally afraid that to their detriment this information would positively leak and reach their higher ups in Pakistan, and would have a direct bearing on their careers.
The surprise on the other hand, was a heartfelt invite to Pakistan with the promise that they will ensure that I would find myself being treated as a VVIP. I would have a red-carpet treatment through-out the period of my stay in Pakistan. The only caveat being that they could not be seen assisting me in getting a visa.
On the other hand, unfortunately, my final farewell was a cautionary reality check. I quote my exact words “I am grateful for our friendship on Angolan soil and I wish you well. We are unlikely to ever meet except on the border. I hope it does not happen, but if it does, then you shoot first because I will not hesitate”.
Disclaimer: Inaccuracies in the article are less because of loss of memory but more as a deliberate act with a dual purpose. They have been thoughtfully introduced at multiple places to mask the identities of the protagonists in deference to their desire. And secondly, a bit of spiced up exaggeration, when your bête noir is involved, does make an interesting read. Honesty in friendship between sworn enemies is a matter of convenience. Sounds perplexing, isn’t it? But that’s me.
