A Cave in the Mountains

In the last one decade this is the second time that I have been laid out with a major surgery. The last time it was a motorcycle accident when I was travelling around Rajasthan with my American friend Thomas Elliot. We had just crossed Jhunjhunun after copious amounts of tea, next stop Delhi. It was late evening and by the time we hit the road, the sky was turning dark. It was a moonless night and for about twenty kilometres I followed a highway taxi, making him the pace setter. Soon, he slowed down. There was a shantytown to our left and I figured he was stopping to disgorge passengers. Little did I know when I started overtaking him that barely at a distance of less than ten feet my life would change forever. The taxi was not stopping to disgorge passengers but to allow a cow to cross the road. But I was already committed and needless to say, I had not seen the cow. By the time I did, much of the less than ten feet had been covered and by the time I stood on my brakes I had smacked headlong into the cow. With a scream of agony that could be heard back in Jhunjhunun a little over twenty kilometres away, I lay on the road writhing in agony till some villagers came by and carried me to the side of the road where I lay for another hour or so trying to figure out what had happened. A taxi was commissioned and writhing in pain and agony I made my way to the Government Hospital back in Jhunjhunun. A doctor was summoned and he along with six or seven ward boys wrestled with poor little me till they could finally straighten my broken leg at the knee. My screams could be heard in Baggar, a little over twenty kilometres away, where the accident had taken place. The otherwise calm of the desert night was shattered by my screams yet again. The wildlife, of which there is plenty, must have wondered at this sudden, unknown, indescribable sound of what they must have thought was the growl of a new predator import.

I stayed in the Government Hospital overnight, got into an ambulance and drove back to Delhi to be operated on the following day. The knee was entirely shattered and the doctors managed to cement it in place and locked their craftsmanship with three screws, each about four inches long. My collar bone had broken too, but that was a minor irritant compared to what had happened to my knee.

About a week later I was back home, bed-bound for the next many weeks. Two months later the second round of agony hit me when physiotherapy started. My knee was a shambles and was irrevocably bent at about a thirty degree angle. The physiotherapist took it as his bounden duty to ensure that he straighten it out. Molten wax was something I got used to. What I did not get used to was the physical torture that I was subjected to by the physiotherapist. He tried for a few weeks and by that time I had decided to spare myself the torture and left the fate of my leg to well ... fate.

While in bed I had made myself three promises. One that I would ride a motorcycle again. Two, that I would visit my Buddhist teacher in Dharamshala. And three, I would visit Ladakh again. These three objectives kept me going and just about when I thought that the walker would be my companion for life, I stood on my own two feet again, without any other external support. And oh, the promises to myself? I kept all three of them within the next one year.

Doctors told me that osteoarthritis had set in due to the accident and the surgery and that I would require a total knee replacement in the next four or five years. Life went on and took on as normal a routine as possible pretty soon. A year later I was again in the hills riding my motorcycle again in an attempt at a new world record that unfortunately had to be aborted due to unseasonal weather patterns. I did have a pronounced limp, my right leg was shorter by about four inches, I had to relearn to walk and I overcame these situations. I started the OTA Survival School. I made almost 200 short films on survival. I relocated to Hyderabad for about a year. I then came back to Delhi. Produced a few corporate audiovisuals. Visited sundry places every once in a while. And managed to keep up my annual tryst with Ladakh.

The days went by as did the weeks and months and years. I was away in Sawai Madhopur shooting an audiovisual when the left ankle gave up on me entirely. I did not remember hurting it in any way, but I just could not walk anymore. X-rays did not show anything. A visit to the doctor and his immediate diagnosis was that it was because of the busted right leg that was putting increasing pressure on my left ankle. And hence the discomfort. Solution? Knee replacement surgery. I knew that I could postpone it by another year or so before walking would become very difficult and took the decision to go in for the surgery immediately. The surgeon was met and the date was fixed for Dec 18, 2013. 

That was still more than a month away and I decided to spend that time in Goa learning scuba diving. So I went off to Goa. And that was another story altogether. Spent the first day in the pool learning to breathe under water. Kind of figured that out after a while but could not get used to not getting air through my nose. Managed to stay underwater for sometime, panicked and resurfaced. Much to the chagrin of the instructor, I managed it enough for him to  invite me over the next day for a stint out in the sea. I was apprehensive throughout the boat ride and ultimately gathered enough courage to sit on the side of the boat, gear and all, to be pushed overboard into the sea. Took me almost half an hour to gather the courage to go more than a foot or so under water. The panic was a bit much. And the sea water, of which I drank plenty, was awful. Anyway, managed to go down about seven or eight metres to the bottom, did some of the mandatory things before I sprang back to the surface again.

There was to be a second dive and I just did not manage that. Try as I might, my mind had given up completely and refused to even try breathing under water. The instructor too gave up on me and we decided to spend another day at the pool overcoming my fear and panic.

And then it happened. On my way to the centre the next day I fell down on the road, slipping on some gravel and broke my busted knee again. Somehow I managed to get back home and visited the doctor in the evening. A wonderful doctor, he took a look at the X-ray and decided there was no fracture. He put a knee brace and told me to get back to Delhi. Which I did a few days later. I had already fixed my appointment with the surgeon from Goa itself and on reaching Delhi was relieved to hear from the doctor that this recent accident would not in any way postpone my slated surgery and that I could prepone it if I so desired. Not that I was going anywhere. The leg hurt bad and I was back on a walker. A date was fixed for Dec 1, 2013 to get admitted for surgery the following day. 

I believe that knee replacement surgeries normally take less than an hour ... mine took over two hours. I would wake up in the middle of the surgery and yap with the anaesthetist who was standing at my head. I could hear the chiselling and hammering going on and knew what was happening from all the videos I had seen on the subject on YouTube. Ooooops. But it did not hurt one bit thanks to the copious amounts of anaesthetics I was on. Out of surgery and into the ICU for a night which was spent yapping with the nurse into the wee hours of the night. 

Physiotherapy started in the hospital the next day and I learnt about the fracture that did not show up on the X-ray. Of the three screws from the previous surgery, one had to be kept inside the knee to take care of the fracture. Nevertheless the tortuous physiotherapists happened once again in my life but I must say, this time around it was far less painful.

And less than a week after my surgery I was back home. Lots of medicines, lots of painkillers and lots of pain followed. A physiotherapist came home everyday showing me the exercises and making his best effort to make me scream out in agony. But again, this time it was much easier than the last time around. The physiotherapist came once a day and every day he made me promise that I would continue the exercises at least five times each day. Never happened. Never did I get to do the exercises five times. Four is the maximum number I have managed.

And then one day the medicines stopped. And the pain started. Constant and nagging. It was as if someone had my knee in a vice and would not let go. In fact, s/he would twist it every now and then. So what, said the physiotherapist, no pain no gain. I wonder if he ever had to undergo the kind of pain I was being subjected to. And the additional fracture was not helping any. Moreover, my muscles had gone into hibernation over the last eight years and had to be goaded to come back to life. I had lived with a lower leg bent at the knee and below and now that the leg had been straightened, I had to relearn this new sensation. The walker gave way to a stick, the stitches were removed, the bandages found their way into the waste bin, and I continued to endure the pain. A pain so bad that I could not sleep at night. I would wake up groaning and moaning.

One thing that being in bed for extended periods with nothing to do, results in one thing – you get to do a lot of thinking. The last time I had in front of me three promises I had made myself. I wanted to go down that same road once again. But try as I might, no worthwhile promises made sense. I am eight years older and a look at the last few years and the years to come do not bring about any particular things that make much sense. All one can do is harp back at the past and the fruitlessness of an unknown future. And that is a bad combination. I know that I need something to look forward to, but just cannot seem to think of anything. It is as if my life has had its day and the future is kind of dark, bleak and pointless. A look further back into my life, prior to the accident, and another bunch of negative thoughts floods my brain. A childhood that left my parents wanting, a school life that could have been more academically inclined, a failure as an executive, a bigger failure as an entrepreneur, a sorry figure of a husband, just a little bit better as a father, a failed adventurer and now at a little over 50, a failed life to look back on, without a beacon blinking at me from the future.

My grandfather was some kind of astrologer and he had made me an almanac when I was still a toddler. He prophesied that one day I would become a mendicant. Maybe it is time for me to renounce the world and find myself a cave in the mountains.

The Possession of Leisure

Take a look around you. Everyone is running. Running after something or the other. Running to reach someplace. Running to catch a train. Running to make a meeting. Running to make end meet. Running to stay ahead of the others. Running after time. Everyone seems to have something to run after. Something that they aspire for. Something that they dream about. Something that they want to own. To possess. Whether it is at work or at home. And they end up spending their entire lives running, without ever having the joy of enjoying what they have attained through all this running. The time for enjoying is always tomorrow. Yet, tomorrow never seems to come. And one day it is all over. You lie on your deathbed, looking back at your life, and the process of running starts all over again. What could have been done. What should have been done. What needed to be done. All the missed opportunities. Now gone forever. And you close your eyes to eternal sleep.

Let us step back for a while and ask ourselves what is the purpose of all this running, when on that final moment of reckoning, all you have is you and your memories. Can the memories be of joy and happiness of a life well lived, or does it have to be about the things that could have been. I once read somewhere “No one on his deathbed ever said, I wish I had spent more time in the office.” So true. Yet, every waking moment of our lives we run after that elusive pot of gold at the rainbow. We run after that mirage in the horizon. We are always on the lookout for that turn in the road of our lives which will change our fortunes forever. And yet, when we finally do take that turn, there emerges ahead of us yet another turn, yet another rainbow, yet another mirage. And the chase continues. We continue to run till we fall.

Why can’t we gift ourselves the luxury of leisure? Why can’t we decide to take possession of that luxury called time? Is it decadence that allows us that luxury? Is it only people who do not have to think about what tomorrow entails who can have the luxury of leisure. Without a care in the world, without the eternal running endemic to humankind? Do people look at those with time on their hands, enjoying the luxury of leisure as fortunate human beings who do not have to work for a living? Maybe yes. But when you come down to think of it, how much of our lives are spent in keeping up with the person next door? Why do we have to compare ourselves with someone else? And why does all equations have to be drawn against the equaliser of material possessions? Isn’t that what we try to do when we are running? Get a better job, a higher salary, a bigger car, a four bedroom house, china and silver on the table? Why does it have to be that? Why can’t we be happy to live the life that we want to? Maybe because we have forgotten what we want out of life. Maybe we never knew what life has to offer. Maybe we are so conditioned to grow up, get educated, get employed, make money and teach our children to do the same. Why can’t we step back for once and gift ourselves the luxury of leisure?

Is it so difficult to possess leisure? No, it is not. Not when you really get down to it. What does one need to lead a happy and contended life? Not much, to be honest. Three square meals a day, a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs and the wind in our faces. Why should we consider ourselves happy only if we have the big television and a fancy cellphone and a sparkling sedan parked outside? We will not take any of that away with us when we make out final journey. On that day if we can ride the wagon with a smile on our faces and no regrets in our hearts, is the proof of a fulfilled life.

I would love to go back to sustenance living. Grow what you can eat, build a home with your own hands, as big as your needs, breathe the fresh clean air away from the dust and grime and fumes of the city, never have anyone to compete with, just have family around you to love and to cherish. That is my dream. I want to stop running and give myself the luxury of leisure.

The blood of our bravehearts

It has been a long time since the Army has been involved in a protracted operation to apprehend / neutralise infiltrators, trying to get into Indian territory. I understand that winter is near and the snows on the mountains will not make it easier for people to infiltrate. In 2013 the level of infiltrations and ceasefire violations have taken a quantum leap. Skirmishes have occurred quite frequently. But this operation in the Keran sector has lasted fifteen days. Despite what the denials might be, I am quite sure that the infiltrators were quite heavily entrenched, and equipped with arms, ammunition, food, medicines and other supplies. In the first few days we heard about infiltrators being eliminated but no bodies were recovered. This gave rise to the story that they had occupied a village along the border and that the operation was not only to neutralise or apprehend the terrorists, but also to liberate the village. This operation happened, as is so often the case, when one unit was handing over the area of operations to another. And this time one of the units that found themselves in the line of fire almost the day they landed in the sector was the 3rd Regiment of the Third Gorkha Rifles (3/3 GR), which I am proud to say is the Regiment that my father was commissioned into on Dec 4, 1954.

Anyway. After 15 days the operation came to a halt but the battle continues. A large cache of arms have been recovered – sniper rifles, automatic weapons, pistol, and such like. Almost ten of the supposed 35-40 terrorists have been killed. And in the coming weeks that are left before the snow comes down blanketing the countryside, the Army expects more such attempts to push in terrorists and militants (and soldiers?) into Jammu & Kashmir. The current operation is over, but the battle, like I said, continues.

There are a lot of people who are questioning the fact of these infiltrations. How can there be so many infiltrations in an area that is supposedly the most tightly guarded in the whole world? People are trying to fault the Army. Little do they realise the difficulties that the Army finds itself in. The terrain is hilly and mountainous. There are innumerable places to hunker down and evade detection. The terrorists have been known to dig tunnels under the fence. They cut the fence wire and sneak in under covering and distractionary fire from the Pakistan army. Yes, people will come in, the task is to catch them before they can get into more populated areas.

But the Army in under another kind of pressure, this time from their own Government unfortunately. They are not allowed “hot pursuit”. They are not allowed to cross the Line of Control. They are not allowed to use indiscriminate use of firepower. They also do not have the communication facilities required to combat such activities. Guerrilla warfare is very different from conventional warfare. And Pakistan and its cohorts excel in it. On the other hand, the powers that be, sitting in South Block, go back to the glory days of war, when armies faced each other, eyeball to eyeball, on the battlefield, went to war, and may the best team win. Guerrilla warfare is about tactics and deception, it has to be tackled to guile and strategy. Dealing with such infiltrators needs to be unconventional. It has to be demonstrably preventive. The soldiers need to send the message to the other side borrowing from the film Sholay – “Tum ek marogey to hum char marengey (If you kill one, we will kill four).”

Whenever people talk of sending a strong message to Pakistan, the almost automatic and robotic response is, “So do you think we should go to war?” The time probably has come for a military solution to the problem. Even so, short of war there are a lot of solutions to put pressure on the rogue elements in Pakistan, to squeeze them, to ensure that they start hurting at the upper levels. Currently, some infiltrators die and that is the amount of discomfort to the establishment training and equipping them. The discomfort needs to be palpable and it should come home to roost.

Why can’t the Indian Government be more assertive in their public statements?

Why can’t the Indian Government impress upon the global community about what is happening?

Why can’t the Indian Government insist on diplomatic sanctions against Pakistan?

Why can’t the Indian Government try and get sanctions imposed by the world against Pakistan?

Why can’t the Indian Government reinstate India as a no-fly zone for Pakistani aircraft?

Why can’t the Indian Government impose a blockade of ships going into Pakistan?

OK, the Pakistani Government could be the babe in the woods, without knowing what their military and intelligence services are up to. Let us give them the benefit of doubt. But with the above initiatives, the people of Pakistan will start putting pressure on the Pakistan Government to act against the rogue elements in the Pakistan military and ISI.

The possible outcome of such activity inside Pakistan could be another coup d’état. So be it. At least India and the rest of the world will know who is the person sitting across the table and whether that person has the power to take decisions. I am sure that the Prime Minister of Pakistan or his Government has no clue. They cannot have breakfast without the approval of the military/ISI nexus. And Nawaz Sharief will be extra cautious about displeasing the military given his history at having been ignobly ousted from office during his last term. So the less we expect from the civilian dispensation from within Pakistan, the better. It has to be external pressure applied to make things change.

In the meanwhile India should go ahead and destroy all known terrorist camps within Pakistan ... WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE PAKISTAN GOVERNMENT. After all these terrorists are “non State actors” and Pakistan has nothing to do with them. So they should not have any trouble if India “assists” them in removing this menace from within Pakistani territory. Maybe terrorism within Pakistan will also go down with these camps destroyed and manpower eliminated.

India could try these solutions for a few months to see if there is visible improvement in the situation. Meanwhile the threat of war should be a clear and distinct possibility ... visibly and out in the open. And this hogwash about both countries being nuclear powers is pure bollocks. Pakistan may not have a no-first-use policy, but they will be foolish to embark on a nuclear misadventure. They know they will become global pariahs overnight and with the state the country is in, they can ill afford that. Pakistan will never use their nuclear arsenal. Let India call the bluff and let us see who blinks first.

And after the war, let the armies decide on the post-war treaty. Left to the politicians, they will once again hand over strategic assets gained after the loss of soldiers. And the problem will continue. In 1965 we captured the Haji Pir Pass and then gave it away. The Haji Pir sector is from where much of the infiltration takes place today. If we land up in Lahore and are found having a drink at the Club waiting for the rest of the formations to catch up, we should hold on to it. And recapture and keep as much territory as possible from what Pakistan took away in 1947-48. Give the Army a free hand in case of war and see the Kashmir problem disappearing into the mists of history.

Meanwhile, along the Line of Control, we will continue to see the soldiers’ blood flowing needlessly.

REST IN PIECES

It has been more than thirty years that India and Pakistan have been at loggerheads at each other. Well, it started more than 65 years ago when Pakistani soldiers masquerading as mujahideens entered the newly formed State of India, trying to wrest as much territory of Jammu & Kashmir as they could. The newly formed Indian army, fought those who were their comrades in arms till a few weeks ago ... and prevailed. Though not after conceding a large part of Indian territory. There were a few years of relative tranquillity (if you can ever call it that between the two armies) and then came the summer of 1965, when the Pakistani army tried the same in the Rann of Kutch and through British intervention was awarded almost 1,000 sq km.

Gen Ayub Khan took over the reins of Pakistan and decided to enter Indian territory again  on August 5, 1965, followed by Indian soldiers crossing the line of control on Independence Day, 1965. Pakistan’s Operation Gibraltar had failed earlier in Kashmir, but now War was declared between the two countries. Notwithstanding the failure of Operation Gibraltar, Pakistan launched Operation Grand Slam on September 1, 1965 with the aim at capturing the strategic town of Akhnoor, near Jammu. The Indian Army crossed the International Border on September 6, 1965 and War was officially declared. Some major battles were fought, including the Battle of Asal Uttar. The War however was going nowehere with both countries occupying captured territory, India more than Pakistan. With American, Soviet and United Nations intervention, the War finally ended on September 23, 1965. The War was over but the animosity grew between the two belligerent nations.

A few years later the events after the democratic victory of Sheikh Mujibur Rehman and the awami League of East Pakistan in the elections of 1970 led to a major crackdown by West Pakistan on their Eastern citizens. Operation Searchlight was launched in East Pakistan after Sheikh Mujib was arrested. Over 10 million refugees fled into India and more than 3 million East Pakistanis were massacred. The refugee camps in India turned into training grounds for the Mukti Bahini. Meanwhile the genocide continued in East Pakistan and the Pakistani leadership refused to listen to Indian or other international voices on stopping the atrocities. Finally, on December 3, 1971 Pakistani Air Force jets entered Indian air space and bombed eleven air fields and War was on once again. Thirteen days later 93,000 Pakistani soldier surrendered and were taken prisoner and the new State of Bangladesh was born.

Pakistan could not digest this humiliation. India had helped carve a chunk of their territory and that was unacceptable. The Pakistani establishment conveniently forgot what they had done in 1947-48! A few years later, the Kahmisr problem started and has continued ever since.

Akin to the 1947-48 strategy, Pakistani soldiers dressed up as mujahideen and local Kashmiri freedom fighters, infiltrated Jammu & Kashmir and started a war, in keeping with the doctrine of bleeding India with a thousand cuts. The policy of subterfuge continued even in 1999 during the Kargil War when Pakistani soldiers were instrumental in entering Indian territory and the Pakistani Army refusing to take back the bodies of the soldiers who had died fighting for their Nation. Of course, the lies and the subterfuge came out in the open eventually, as it was bound to.

Bombay was shockingly attacked by a bunch of terrorists and suddenly the phrase “non State actors” started making the rounds. The Pakistani establishment had nothing to do with them and were as vulnerable to terrorism as India was and were trying their best to curb this scourge, even in their own country. They forgot to mention that they had managed to created a Frankenstein that got horribly out of hand. (Reminds me of Bindranwale, Prabhakaran, et al).

The Americans managed to track down and kill Osama Bin Laden and hastened to bury him at sea the same night. (That is a whole different story and deserves some investigation since it seems to be shrouded in controversy and cover-up, much like the 9/11 World Trade Centre bombings.) The former Director General of the ISI proudly made a public statement that it was a victory for the ISI to have managed to shield Osama Bin Laden in Pakistan for nine years. This despite the fact the Pakistani Government, the Pakistani Army and the ISI had continued to “help” coalition forces to hunt down Osama Bin Laden and denied having anything to do with the Al Qaeda.

Anyway, anything happened anywhere around the world that had Pakistani connections, was now conveniently dubbed to have been carried out by the infamous non State actors. Pakistan did not know who they were, where they were operating from, who they were targeting, etc. And of course, there was no blessings to these non State actors from the establishment or the Army or the ISI. Respective Prime Ministers and other Pakistani leaders have expressed their sympathies about the activities and results of the activities of these non State actors.

Of course, no one in the world believes them, except their own convoluted and screwed up minds. Pakistan has been declared a rogue State and no one wants to do any business with them. Well, not no one. There are the Somali pirates, the Yemeni insurgents, and other such motley groups.

If the Pakistani Government wants to wash the soot off their faces, I have a solution for them. Maybe they will not listen, because the last person to see what is good for them when things are rapidly going South, is the person himself. Anyway, at the risk of being ridiculed by the Pakistani establishment, I will be bold enough to continue to make the suggestion.

1.     The Pakistani Government (the Army will take a lot more convincing) should immediately launch a global public relations exercise aimed at telling the world that they are tired of these non State actors ruining the good name of Pakistan.

2.     They should immediately solicit the help of everyone who is willing to help to solve this menace to Pakistani society and the countries that are affected by these non State actors who use Pakistan as their base.

3.     They should welcome the Indian Armed Forces and the coalition Armed Forces to immediately destroy all the bases these non State actors use and neutralise all the leaders.

4.     They should immediately hand over all the people that various Governments around the world want – Hafiz Sayeed, Maulana Masood Azhar, Lakhvi, Dawood Ibrahim, including all those other people who are supposedly “not living in Pakistan”.

5.     At the end of this exercise – which should not take more than a couple of weeks – the Pakistani Government should call an international press conference and declare that they have rid their country of all non State actors. Further, that anyone wanting to use Pakistani soil for “non State activities” will be summarily caught and executed.

If the Pakistani establishment actually believes that these rogues are non State actors, then there will be no repercussion at all – either in Pakistan or anywhere around the world. From what the Pakistani Government maintains, these individuals and groups are ruining the reputation of Pakistan and Pakistanis. A couple of weeks is all that will take to get back the good reputation that Pakistan and Pakistanis crave. It is as simple as that. These are non State actors, without a State or country and no country will raise a hue and cry about their elimination. Why should Pakistan and Pakistanis take the blame for these roguish elements who fight under no flag but their own?

That is unless the Pakistan Government is indulging in subterfuge once again and is hoodwinking the rest of the world by stating that these are non State actors, when they are actually the un-uniformed covert wing of the Pakistani Army and establishment, trained to fight their dirty wars.

If Pakistan does not eliminate them, the country will soon be resting in pieces, much like the non State actors who try and destabilise the world ... and are ending up doing the same thing to Pakistan itself.