Calling Sehmat Page 14

  Stepping away from the podium, Mir walked to the edge of the stage and escorted Tej to the seat next to Sehmat. He was about to go back to the podium when he noticed something unusual: Sehmat was sliding from her seat. Mir realized that she was fainting. He turned immediately and caught Sehmat by her shoulders before she collapsed. He lifted her in his powerful arms and rushed to a waiting ambulance with Tej and Aby in tow. They were soon on their way to the military hospital at the Delhi cantonment.

  An hour later, an army doctor emerged from the examination room to face the three tense people. He smiled at them reassuringly and walked up to Tej. His smile widened as he came closer. ‘Your daughter is fine. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. It was fatigue, nervousness and excitement that caused the blood to rush to her head. She’ll be fine soon. All she needs is rest.’

  ‘But doctor, why did she faint?’ Tej still looked worried, apprehending bad news from the doctor.

  ‘She did not faint, Madam, well, not exactly. But she has to be careful and, as I said earlier, she needs rest. I presume you know that she is pregnant?’

  Tej covered her open mouth with both her hands, her eyes expressing extreme shock. Unable to regain control over her emotions, she slumped towards Mir who let her head rest on his shoulder.

  ‘How much more suffering will my daughter undergo?’ she wondered aloud. ‘Will she be able to bear this cruel twist of fate?’ Mir had no answer.

  Aby was standing nearby. Moving a step closer, he put his arm around Tej and gently pulled her away from Mir. He wiped her tears and made her sit on a bench a few steps away. Squatting by her side, he held her trembling hands firmly and looked at her as if nothing unusual had happened.

  ‘Look, Mrs Khan, there is nothing to feel bad about. She was married and a child is always a blessing. She has lost her husband, but if you and Sehmat agree, I will be honoured to have her as my life partner.’

  Even from a distance, Mir could understand what Aby was saying by reading his lips. He came closer and held him tightly in an embrace. ‘I must have done something great in my previous life to see the finest display of human spirit. I am proud of you, Aby. I am really proud of you, my son. May God bless you.’

  ‘Don’t make me a martyr, Sir. I have loved Sehmat right from the day I first saw her. I still do, and hope that she will agree to be my wife.’

  The expressions of depression and defeat evaporated from Tej’s face. Tears of happiness streamed down her face. She hugged Aby, clutching him with her feeble arms. She was happy that Sehmat would be able to pick up the pieces of her broken life and start afresh from where she had left. She deserved a new chance at a happy life with the man she truly loved. The army doctor escorted Tej to the room where Sehmat was resting after the check-up. Mir and Aby, meanwhile, sat on the bench outside and accepted tea served by a smartly dressed orderly.

  Wiping her tears, Tej patted down her hair and opened the door to Sehmat’s room. She was lying on the bed. She watched her mother enter and close the door behind her. Their eyes met, and they exchanged bittersweet smiles that reflected the pain they had gone through. Sehmat hid the fact that she already knew about her pregnancy from Tej. She was happy to be a mother, but the reality of having killed so many innocent people had begun to take its toll on her. Tej could almost read her mind.

  ‘Congratulations,’ she said sitting by her bedside. ‘I know how you feel, but I have good news for you. Aby still loves you and wants to marry you.’

  ‘But, Mother, I am carrying Iqbal’s child and under no circumstances am I going to get an abortion.’

  ‘He knows everything, but he says he loves you irrespective of that and just wants your consent.’

  Sehmat was nonplussed for a moment. The chance of being with her first love was exciting but deep within she was depressed. Would she ever be able to marry again and live happily after taking so many innocent lives?

  ‘I need some time, Mother. At the moment, I am not in a state to take such a decision. Also I don’t want to go back to Srinagar. Could you help me settle down in Maler Kotla?’

  ‘Maler Kotla? Where is that? And why there?’ Tej’s voice was tinged with the same surprise that was written on her face.

  ‘It is Abdul’s home town,’ Sehmat replied with a sorrowful expression.

  ‘And who is Abdul?’ Tej began to get more worried.

  ‘He was the most faithful servant of the Sayeeds.’

  ‘But that was in Pakistan, Sehmat. You are now back in your own country.’

  ‘Yes, Mother, but my conscience is heavy with guilt. Maybe this way I shall be able to ease some of its burden. I hope Abdul will forgive me for what I did to him.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘I crushed him under a military truck.’

  Tej was shocked by Sehmat’s plain speaking. She began to realize the extent of trauma her daughter was carrying in her mind and heart. She held Sehmat’s hands firmly and kissed her forehead. ‘I can understand what you must be going through. But remember, what you did was for the sake of your country. And I am with you, always.’

  ‘Thank you, Mother,’ she said, as she shut her eyes and pushed her head into the soft pillow. Tej could see the pain on her face but could do little to ease her agony.

  ‘Only time can heal her wounds and ease her burden,’ she told herself.

  As she came out of the room, she looked at the two men. Their eyes were glued to her face, trying to read her expressions. She smiled and walked slowly towards them. She was in a dilemma as she did not have the courage to face Aby. She sat next to Mir and, without looking directly at Aby, asked, ‘Where exactly is Maler Kotla?’

  Mir immediately realized that all was not well. Tej told them what Sehmat had said and they listened in silence. It took Mir no time to understand what Sehmat was going through. Anyone else in this situation would have become a nervous wreck. But what surprised him was the calmness and fortitude with which Aby took it all in his stride.

  As he walked towards his car an hour later, Aby’s words still rang in his mind. ‘Don’t worry, Mom, I am even more determined. And I’ll wait for eternity if so needed. Our first priority is to get her back to normality. She must be cheerful in her condition.’

  His calling her ‘Mom’ wasn’t missed by Tej. It cheered her up and also kept her hope alive.

  19

  Admiral M.S. Chand, Chief of the Naval Staff (CNS) of the Indian Navy, was pacing up and down in the ‘operations room’ at the naval headquarters (NHQ) in New Delhi. His face wore a worried expression. There was pin-drop silence in the hall that seated more than a dozen other Admirals who were waiting patiently for their Chief to speak. Chand had arrived before the scheduled time of the meeting, and had waited for everyone to assemble and take their seats. One by one, the officers had entered the hall, saluted the Chief and occupied their respective seats. Each officer had checked his watch to confirm if he had arrived on time because it was such a rare sight to see the CNS coming much ahead of schedule.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ began the CNS, after taking a long look at the officers, ‘in comparison to the Indian Army, the navy is yet to prove its mettle. We are one-tenth the size of the army and relatively untested on the battlefield. While the air force has repeatedly demonstrated itself through sheer air power and vital support to the country’s defence, the navy more or less stands in isolation due to its perceived limited role. Some people in the bureaucracy tend to accord it step-motherly treatment when it comes to formulating battle strategies. And it hurts even more when those in power overlook the navy’s views at high-level meetings. I am also deeply perturbed by their apprehensions of the navy’s limited capability in a war. But I am determined to press our case directly to the political leadership. Please be prepared. The navy is going to play an active role in safeguarding the interests of our great nation.’

  The CNS paused for a brief moment. He had his own reasons to press the navy’s case. Intelligence reports had categorically confirm
ed the presence of Pakistani submarines, primed to launch an all-out attack on India’s lone aircraft carrier, INS Vikrant, in Indian waters.

  Compounding the Chief’s worries was the fact that Vikrant was not fully operational. Having developed cracks in its main boiler, the big hulk’s ability to catapult fighter aircraft into flight had become suspect. Moreover, the Indian Navy could barely provide enough escort ships which were needed for carrier operations at sea in a hostile situation.

  Chand walked up to the wall and began positioning various models of ships on the huge chart. Holding Vikrant’s tiny replica in his hand, he turned to face his audience. ‘Any damage to the flagship would not only cause us humiliation, it would also adversely damage the morale of our men. Reports suggest that there are at least four Pakistani submarines in our waters, including the US-built Ghazi. The other subs are just as dangerous. They are equally advanced French machines that are capable of eluding us. While on one hand the navy has to keep Vikrant out of harm’s way from the sub attack, on the other hand, we have to engage in a diplomatic tussle with our own babudom.’

  Placing the model ship on the table, the CNS took his chair and put his head against the cushion. The meeting went on till midnight and the members dispersed only after the data to be presented to the government was compiled. It was rare for the officers to see their CNS involving himself in the minutest of details. The first battle was within the system; to convince the political leadership of the navy’s worthiness to take on the enemy. It was not going to be easy, but Chand was not one to give up.

  Armed with statistics and data, the CNS went to the Defence Minister the following day. The bureaucrats in the defence ministry persisted with their version of the unfolding scenario which was short-sighted. ‘Given the Pakistani naval strength,’ Chand was told, ‘they can do little at sea that can harm India’s vast coastline. Over 80 per cent of the Indian trade carried over the sea is conducted by foreign shipping liners. Pakistanis would think twice before attacking any foreign vessel and earning the wrath of the Western powers,’ the bureaucracy opined.

  Chand was shocked and dismayed by their comments. ‘What do you know about war?’ he wished to ask them but decided to push the matter through with persistence instead. The stakes were too high. Being the navy’s Chief, it was his duty to stand up to the challenge, both within and outside, and yet emerge victorious.

  To an audience that was to take the final call, Chand presented a detailed report on Pakistan’s inventory and its intentions. He placed copies of the intelligence report before the Prime Minister in the war room, and drew her attention to the specifics and statistics.

  ‘Madam,’ he pleaded before the Prime Minister, ‘Pakistanis have Ghazi on wet lease from the US and Daphne-class subs from the French. In addition, they have acquired midget submarines and chariots. These units are best suited for both long-drawn operations and for clandestine attacks. We have to consider the fact that they can attack ships in harbour and damage vital installations. I understand that the Pakistani Air Force is closely coordinating with its navy for the singular mission of damaging our aircraft carrier. We cannot let this happen. And the only way to defend it is by allowing us to counter-attack.’

  The Prime Minister heard him patiently but did not respond. Instead, she looked questioningly towards the bureaucrats, seeking an explanation from them but they seemed in no mood to relent. Even though most of them had never ventured into the sea, they felt they were experts in the field of naval warfare.

  ‘But, Admiral,’ one of them argued, ‘given Pakistan’s strength on the West Coast, how do you feel they’d be able to penetrate so deep? Let’s look at their firepower.’ Rising from his chair, the senior bureaucrat went on to read a prepared text. He felt it was his time to make a lasting impression on the Prime Minister, who was patiently listening to the discussion.

  ‘Let’s examine what the Pakistani Navy possesses in terms of numbers,’ he continued, simultaneously placing a leather folder marked ‘Secret’ in front of the PM. He then went on to read the names of Pakistani ships and submarines.

  ‘Madam,’ he said gently, ‘on paper, Pakistan has the following on its west coast:

  One cruiser, the Babur

  Four destroyers, the Shah Jahan, the Badr, the Khaibar and the Alamgir

  Three Daphne-class submarines, the Shushuk, the Hangor and the Mangro

  One frigate, Tipu Sultan

  One survey vessel, Zulfiqar

  Eight minesweepers

  Two motor torpedo boats

  Two tankers, the Attock and the Dacca

  One tug, an assortment of twelve midget submarines, twelve chariots and two seaward defence boats.’

  Then he turned to his right to face the CNS. ‘Admiral, are you sure that, with such limited naval capability, Pakistan would dare to come anywhere near our coast? Besides, do you think that by sending our navy out into the blue waters, we will be able to stop the British fleet or the US carriers or for that matter the Russian battleships from operating off our coast?’

  He then glanced towards the PM to see her reaction. Finding none, he looked at his counterparts from the ministry and saw them directing sarcastic smiles at the CNS. The bureaucrats as usual were at war with their uniformed counterparts.

  ‘But what about the Ghazi?’ the CNS was about to ask when he noticed the PM getting up. She looked at the Army Chief and then glanced at the Chiefs of the intelligence bureau, home affairs and air force. ‘Do you gentlemen have anything to add?’ Her question was an indication that she had had enough of their war games. Getting no response, she looked at her watch and then at the CNS. ‘Admiral, do you have anything to say?’

  Bruised and snubbed, the Admiral walked through the long corridors of the headquarters, anger and frustration writ large on his face. He had his task cut out and he knew it. The navy’s isolation during the 1965 Indo-Pak war had left the sailors deeply demoralized and hurt. Chand knew that any further isolation would not only affect the moral fibre of his men, it would also make them despondent. He was well aware that they were preparing for a war, and felt it was his sole duty to ensure that the navy was not left on the sidelines while the other two services took battle positions and faced the fire. The navy had to be given its rightful place amongst the major actors in this war theatre.

  Entering his spacious office, he called his ‘ops’ team to discuss the burning issue. The team started with the realization that the ground reality had changed since 1965. Having tasted defeat at the hands of India in the 1965 war, Pakistan would now do all it could to inflict damage on the Indian defence forces. In all subsequent meetings with the Defence Minister, RAW’s confirmation of the presence of Pakistani submarines, Ghazi, Hangor and Mangro, in Indian waters and the damage they could inflict on Indian pride was repeatedly stressed.

  The Defence Minister was a man of foresight and was practical in his approach. He realized the importance of having the navy actively involved.

  As the war fever grew stronger, the bureaucracy too realized the far-reaching consequences of undermining Pakistan’s intentions. It was soon after that the navy’s strategists were given a green signal for their mission ‘Bomb Karachi’.

  On 1 December 1971, the Indian Navy, for the first time in its history, was issued sealed orders to attack Karachi. The plan was imaginatively drawn on the drawing board. It looked simple on paper but drew its strength from the fact that it was unique, unheard of and untested by any nation in the past naval wars. It had the element of surprise in its armoury which is the first requirement for success.

  As per the plan, small missile boats were to be towed up to 200 miles off the Karachi harbour before commencement of the war. These boats were meant for coastal waters only and considered incapable of operating at high seas, even by their sellers, the USSR. These missile boats were launched by the escorting ships when the war broke out on the night of 3 December. Their mission was to hit Karachi harbour and the ships within, and retreat to the mother
ships to be towed back to safety.

  The first missile attack, ‘Operation Trident’, was carried out by three missile boats, Veer, Nirghat and Nipat, on the night of 4 December 1971. The resulting devastation shook the Pakistani Navy to its core. Taken by complete surprise, the Pakistani forces suffered heavy casualties and damage. Pakistan’s most important and well-protected harbour, Karachi, was rendered non-operational and its naval force disarmed. Most of its shore-based defence batteries were abandoned. The few that remained in action emptied their ammunition, firing in space at non-existent aircraft. Dumbstruck, the Pakistani intelligence was left struggling, unable to even locate the exact source of attack.

  Its frontline destroyer ship, Khaibar, sank without a trace. A nearby oil tanker sank after it caught fire that lasted for over seven days. Shaken by the ingenuity of the attack, the Pakistani Navy panicked. It recalled all its warships to the safety of the harbour, removed all the ammunition to avoid it being blown up and abandoned its naval warfare plans. It thus, unwittingly, gave free passage to the Indian missile boats to return to the safety of Bombay harbour after completing their operation.

  A second missile attack on Karachi was carried out by the Indian Navy’s frontline ships, Trishul, Talwar and Vinash, on the night of 8 December, destroying Karachi’s oil dumps and tankers as well as crippling many ships anchored in the harbour. Pakistan’s lack of preparedness could be gauged from the fact that even though its navy was aware of a missile threat, the ship-led attacks were mistaken for an air raid. The ensuing fire blazed for days together, throwing the entire panic-stricken Karachi town into disarray.

  News of Ghazi sinking with all hands followed next, leaving the Pakistani high command completely demoralized. On the other hand, the Indian Navy had done its homework rather well. Understanding the fact that Pakistan’s main aim was to sink INS Vikrant, the Indian Navy assigned a small destroyer, INS Rajput, whose duty was to patrol the Bay of Bengal and act like it was an aircraft carrier. Lieutenant Commander Sunderjeet Singh, the Commanding Officer of INS Rajput, played his role to perfection by releasing a series of misleading signals intended to waylay the enemy.