Considered by many to be one of the finest Hindi short stories, Chandradhar Sharma Guleri's Usne KahaTha, written in 1915, is a war story. The plot of the story deals with the life of an Indian solider,Jamadar Lahan Singh of the 77 Sikh Rifles.
Lahan Singh and his comrades are doing duty for the British Empire during the First World War and arefighting against the Germans in France and Belgium. Before leaving for the battlefront, in now-farawayAmritsar, Lahan Singh meets, after many years, the girl he loved, now the wife of his superior, the Subedar.He promises to protect her husband and son (who is also going to war under his father's command) just as hehad once saved her life. Set in the bitterly cold, wet and merciless trenches of Europe, the chilling butinevitable denouement of the story is Lahan Singh's death, who sacrifices himself to fulfill his promise andsave his comrades.
Like all great stories, Usne Kaha Tha reveals to us a glimpse of Truth and it does so by a ruthlessreflection on loyalty, fraternity and love - all telescoped into a few blurred hours alternating betweenwakefulness and memory. While he immerses us in the psychological universe of one man, Guleri is ever socareful to consistently remind us that Lahan Singh, like countless other soldiers, is also an unfortunate pawnin the game of a larger political arena.
When the Subedarni's son falls seriously ill, Lahan nurses and protects him and, unmindful of hisown danger, gives the boy his own warm clothes. For this wanton disregard of his own life he is rebuked by acomrade, Vazira Singh, "Pneumonia se marne wale ko murabbe nahin mila karte" (which roughlytranslates as "There are no rewards in dying of pneumonia").
While the metaphor may seem quaint to the modern reader, the message is clear : Dying soldiers don't add upto much in the modern political calculus. If Indian troops are indeed sent to Iraq, Guleri's poignant storywill be relived by many of our jawans who, as proxies for American soldiers, will inevitably besacrificed at the altar of realpolitik.
In every age, there comes a time when the shifting registers of history are marked off by a singlequestion. The answer one provides becomes the prism through which we begin to view the world. In Usne KahaTha itself we meet Vazira who dreams of asking for a few acres of the fertile French land he was defendingand settle down there as a farmer. But as thousands who staked their life on the war-front on behalf of theBritish Empire were to understand later, their dreams of being treated as equals by their British rulers weremere illusions. On the political front too, this shattering realisation was brought forth in the same Amritsarwhere Lahan Singh had once lived and loved.
In 1919, Jallianwala Bagh and its aftermath set the tone for Indian perceptions of the Raj; men like Tagorehad to sorrowfully shed their cherished goal of a reconciliation between East and West (Tagore famouslyrenounced his knighthood in protest). One result of this changed world-view was India's invention of anon-violent struggle for freedom that helped unleash a wave of decolonisation across Asia and Africa, foreveraltering the map of the world.
In the three decades between 1919 and 1947, the legacy of India's remarkable struggle for freedom wasinvented and bequeathed to us. But as social critic Ashis Nandy points out, contemporary India has spent aconsiderable amount of energy in shedding that legacy, as exemplified by the decision of Indian rulers to gonuclear in 1998. Writing right after the Indian and Pakistani nuclear tests, Nandy said, (in Preface to AnAmbiguous Journey to the City):
"In India at least, the new generation of a well-educated, urbane elite has been bristling for yearsat the limits imposed by the legacy of the country's freedom movement on hard-eyed political 'realism'. ... Inplace of these encumbrances have come the grim instrumentality and rationality of the rootless, deracinated,massified, urban middle classes ..."
At that time, we were told that Pokhran II would help us gate-crash into the 'elite club of nations', anuclear India would claim its 'rightful' place at the table of the haves of the world. Half a decade later, weare now being given the very same justifications on the "Troops for Iraq" question. Sending our jawansto do duty as constable for the global hegemon, we are being told, will help us sidle up to America and thusearn us a place at the table where the wealth of Iraq is to be carved up and feasted on.
It is a measure of our times that every thoughtful person is forced by his conscience into taking a standon crucial questions. Troops-for-Iraq is one such issue for it has provoked an uncharacteristically forcefulresponse from a usually measured and understated writer (Amitav Ghosh, Lessonsof Empire, The Hindu, 24 July 2003). Like Guleri, Amitav Ghosh is a fine, thoughtful writerwell aware of his history, one who seamlessly weaves his prodigious scholarship and historical understandinginto richly nuanced tapestries of grand narratives.
It is therefore both apposite and distressing that it has been his task to remind us that by sending ourtroops to Iraq we would be embracing a most dubious part of our colonial history. The British had used Indiansepoys to quell obstreperous natives both home and abroad (including in Mesopotamia, present-day Iraq) and asso much fodder for their great war machine. As Ghosh points out, the Indian soldier is still a part of a darkmemory in many once-colonised lands (as is the Indian trader, lest we forget East Africa and Idi Amin).
One could perhaps claim with some justice that such an ignoble legacy was not of our making and that theblame should lie at the doors of our erstwhile rulers. But what are we to make of this new incubus withinwhich our very Indian rulers want to forge a new, powerful, self-assured India? Are we to believe thatwe can feather our nest by any means, even if it meant oppressing other people in the same manner as we werein the not so distant past?
The arguments for sending our troops to Iraq are manifold and need to be addressed carefully for howeverunfortunate, even repulsive, they do seem to represent a substantial part of public perception, at leastamongst the opinion-makers. In that sense General Satish Nambiar's comment is understandable. In a recentarticle (Why We Should SayYes, Outlook, 7 July 2003) he says,
"It has long been the lament of many voices within India that despite our size, geo-strategiclocation, manpower resources, military capability and democratic traditions, we have not realised thepotential of being a regional or global player of significance. An opportunity to demonstrate whether we havethe will and determination to play such a role has again presented itself."
But then what are we to make of this most inventive justification from the redoubtable General:
"Most importantly, with India's historical links and traditionally friendly relations with the Iraqis,our participation would be an article of faith in terms of assisting them at this crucial juncture. In thelast 24 years, they have seen three wars and over a decade of economic sanctions. The Iraqis need ourassistance in rebuilding their country and society."?
Pointing our guns at an occupied people is a curious form of assistance and indeed the surest way toreiterate our historic friendship! Its bad enough that we are tripping over ourselves in complying with thebarely whispered wishes of the global potentate. Why do we - a country that hardly cares to clothe and feedits own people - try to cloak our avarice in the language of bringing succour to benighted Iraqis ? This isindeed a curious reprise of the White Man's Burden.
The suggestion bandied around that we could make oodles of money in contracts reminds me of a tiny littlefootnote in the history of Indian journalism, one with striking import. In February 1947, in the midst ofmassive political shifts, a small column appeared in a now forgotten journal, Gram Udyog Patrika - theorgan of the All India Village Industries Association, an organisation founded to further Gandhi's ideas ofgram swaraj and village industries. Its author was the economic philosopher J C Kumarappa who had a poser forthe industrialists of India.
Kumarappa was reacting to the news that some 51 German industrial plants were available for sale in India.These units were stripped out of Germany as war reparations by the victorious Allies and now soon-to-be-freeIndians could place bids to buy them. In his article titled "A Share in the Booty", an outragedKumarappa asked if the foundations of modern India's industries were to be laid with "war loot"?Were these industrial plants, "stained with injustice, cruelty, avarice and human blood", to formthe basis of our industrialisation?
For Kumarappa (best remembered in some circles for his book "Economy of Permanence"), a man whohad done much to infuse the moral question into economic considerations, the means were as important as theends. While his question had remained unanswered, today it takes on even greater urgency, what with many inIndia salivating at the prospect of a few minor contracts that might be thrown our way if we were to doAmerica's bidding. And for those who are able to disengage our stated opposition to the US-led invasion andoccupation of Iraq from the question of troops, here's what Kumarappa said in the same article,
"When we buy a stolen article knowing it to be such, we become morally responsible for the stealingthat had preceded the transaction. India refrained from entering this war. Can we now ask for a share in thebooty consequent on this war without assuming moral responsibility for the carnage?"
As many sane columnists have reminded us, comparing this new situation with India's past record ofpeacekeeping is at best being economical with the truth. Our troops arriving in Iraq will be there not aspeacekeepers but as enforcers of an American occupation. And most certainly they would earn the enmity of manya self-respecting Iraqi. Comparing this with India's disastrous misadventure in Sri Lanka is also equallyuntenable. The certainty of conflicts and loss of lives of Indian soldiers in Iraq has ominous implicationsfor the uneasy and fragile peace between Hindus and Muslims in India.
Most assuredly, there are many in our polity who will reap a grim harvest at the slightest opportunitypresented to them. But in a much larger sense, the day Indian troops set foot in Iraq, we would be committingpatricide - twice over. Having buried the moral vision of Gandhi's ahimsa in Pokharan, an unscrupulousalignment with American interests will at a stroke disown the ethical legacy of Nehru's non-alignment. Inbiting, black irony, we would be turning our backs on the foundational principles of our nationhood and thegreat heritage of our freedom movement that fought the very same colonial powers who used had Indians soldiersin Iraq.
However, all of this will presumably leave General Nambiar unmoved for he says,
"India's response to the American request for troops to stabilise Iraq needs to be free from rhetoricand moral posturing, and should be solely based on our national interests, ground realities and considerationsof realpolitik."
Apparently, having a moral view is mere rhetoric and posturing whereas kowtowing to the global hegemon isin the 'national interest' which should auto-magically put all debate to rest. If our hard-nosed General werearound in the 1920's to proffer sage advise, presumably he would have given the likes of Gandhi and Rajaji alesson in realpolitik and asked them to stop their "moral posturing" against the omnipotentBritish Empire.
While Gandhi and his life is a sepia-tinted shadow in Indian life today it is well worth remembering thathe was a great conscientious objector. In 1921, he was hauled up in Court for spreading disaffection againstthe British Empire by his articles in Young India (one of them with a characteristically short title,"Disaffection A Virtue"). Interestingly Gandhi pleaded guilty to the charges:
"Before I read this statement I would like to state that I entirely endorse the learnedAdvocate-General's remarks in connection with my humble self."
and went on to read a statement that is famed for laying out a man's supreme duty to his conscience. Gandhicalled on his judge to either punish him for his guilt or resign from his office to "dissociate fromevil".
While hard-eyed Indian realists have no use for such a conscience, we are provided a forceful object lessonin our own history by armymen from an unusual quarter. While Lieutenant David Zoneshine and Major Rami Kaplanmight not sound to us as Gandhians - Zoneshine, Kaplan and many others are convinced that they are walking inthe footsteps of the Mahatma. For some years now, a small, remarkable group of Israeli soldiers have beenrefusing to serve in the Occupied Territories. Going by the collective name of 'Courage to Refuse', theseprofessional soldiers conscientiously object to performing their duties in the Occupied Territories (thatIsrael illegally holds since the Six Day War of 1967) which requires them to oppress and make life miserablefor the civilian population of these areas.
Strikingly, they have each in turn asserted their moral beliefs and requested to be court-martialed underMilitary Justice Law. The nonplussed Israeli Army has refused to court-martial them and had insteadincarcerated them without a trial. Interestingly, in their affidavit submitted to the Supreme Court of Israel,the only non-legal document they quote from (in the context of a discussion on a free conscience) is theMahatma's famous statement in Judge Broomfield's Court.
And the question still remains : If Israeli soldiers are defying immoral orders from their Government andare quoting Mahatma Gandhi in their defense, are Indian jawans, as the legatees of Gandhi's moralbequest, going to accept equally immoral marching orders to go to Iraq ?
Afterword: It is being said that both India and Pakistan are carefully watching each other over their responses to theAmerican request for soldiers. Presumably this is one more move in the game of trying to win the help of theAmericans in a ceaseless battle over Kashmir. Such unseemly loyalty to America on both sides reminds me of thekatha in which two monkeys fighting over a roti approach a cat to adjudicate. While GeneralMusharraf might not know the Panchatantra, it would be churlish on my part to remind acclaimedupholders of the Great Indian Tradition like Shri Vajpayee and Advani, of what the cat's judgment was.
Venu Govindu's research interests are in computer science and contemporary social issues. He divides histime between Panaji and Visakhapatnam.
