The Rediff Special /Chitra Subramaniam
Indian diplomats in Geneva concluded that New Delhi was all set to snatch
defeat from the jaws of victory
India's answer to Bhutta was a blue-turbaned, mild-mannered Mohanman
Singh, also a Government College, Lahore, graduate, who countered
her figures of Indian troops deployed in Kashmir with figures
of India's GDP and growth rates. This, said the MEA, was part
of a tactic to rattle Pakistan with India's economic potential.
There was also a hidden message to the West -- hit us and lose
our markets. Besides, diplomats were not ready for another three
minutes with the Loin.
The last time he had bitten the microphone
and the sting of his speech had been lost in laughter. Mohanman
Singh was a Sikh and a secular Indian, the foreign office argued;
yet more evidence -- if evidence was needed -- that India was a
land of a million religions. Mohanman Singh spoke so softly, no
one heard him. When they did, it sounded like he was reciting
a poem. India may be right, Pakistan may be wrong, but Indian
diplomats in Geneva concluded that New Delhi was all set to snatch
defeat from the jaws of victory.
But, as happens in most circumstances similar to these, the people
in Geneva had no control over what New Delhi was planning. With
each passing day, it became clear that New Delhi too was in the
dark about what New Delhi was planning. Thus, to save Kashmir
in Switzerland several plans were hatched and demolished by Kashmir
experts huddled in rooms all across the Indian capital.
In addition
to the 83 in Geneva, several others flew in and out of the city
to assess the developing situation. Indian newspapers were full
of reports of 'war' in Geneva, and all across the country
people kept track of the votes in favour of and against India
as they would cricket scores.
The situation was tense, so tense, that the Loin agreed to stop
playing golf and devote more time to Kashmir. For him that meant
pacing the long corridors of the UNHRC, asking all and Sunday
"kya ho raha hai" (what is happening?). He was rarely
briefed -- Indian diplomats were afraid he would misunderstand or
talk too much, or tell it all to the next lady who caught his
fancy.
Their worst fear was a weeping Loin. Too often in the past, he
had brought tears to his eyes even when it was not absolutely
necessary. But, he was the head of the delegation and his presence
was of key importance. He had to be humoured, otherwise Kashmir
could not be saved.
Five days before the vote, the Loin surprised every Indian diplomat
by announcing that he had a plan. For a starter he wanted a mobile
phone. "Everybody except me has one," he complained
to the Indian ambassador, who gulped. He got one. He then asked
for a bullet-proof Mercedes. "I can see some Kashmiri militants
trailing me," he whispered.
A suitably black car with dark windows appeared, bringing along
with it protocol problems. If he got a phone and a car, it was
mandatory that every other alternate leader of the delegation
be provided these two items. This was not the time to trigger
off a diplomatic incident over the size of cars. National honour
was at stake. India opened its coffers.
Then, the Loin complained he was getting unfavourable and inadequate
coverage in the Indian press and summoned his favourite journalist
from the Kall of the Valley Times who spent
three weeks informing his public about the Loin's efforts to save
Kashmir. Billow-by-billow account de raha hoon
(I am giving a blow-by-blow account) he told the Loin every morning,
assuring him that blow-by-blow versions of the Loin's efforts
were being read breathlessly every morning back home where elections
had been announced. Loin was ready for Bhutta.
Illustrations: Dominic Xavier
Excerpted from India Is For Sale, by Chitra Subramaniam, UBS, 1997, Rs 250, with the publisher's permission. Readers who wish to buy a copy of the book may direct their inquiries to Mr H S Sethi, UBS, Apeejay Chambers, Wallace Street, Fort, Bombay 400 001.
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