The Price of Loyalty - THE CONFESSION !!!

I lay on the table, pressed by three men, leaving KSS free to show his bravery. He matched his strength with my resistance. KSS struck the soles of my fee with all the force he could muster. While hitting, KSS asked me with every stroke, `Speak your bastard, did you not go to Pakistan?' The remaining heroes of the gang who had pressed me and pinned me to the table created an ear shattering noise. The noise so created was enough to drive even a healthy person insane. And me? I was already a tatterdemalion; with an appearance of a ghost which had risen from a century old grave. A ghost with a difference; majority of human beings are afraid of ghosts, but was a ghost who was under a morbid fear of the human beings.

The sound proof interrogation room thundered and vibrated with incoherent shouts; emanating from the patriotic mouths. `Bastard....d ... d. Traitor... r ...r. Kill him .. klm .. klm. No.. o.. o. Pak spy.. spy.. ee.. ee. Don't let him move..ov ..ov. Went to Pakistan..an..an..an. He has a lot of strength, Chotte Sahib press his hands with force..orce..orce. He's a sula..a..a Did you go to Pakistan or did you not..ot..ot. No he didn't int..int..int. Janwar Sahib you appeared to be tried..ied..ied. Come out..ot..ot..' In addition the hum was arrayed with abuses.

My body arched in an involuntry spasm. My wrinkled face seemed like a winter apple, contracted in a soundless scream and my swollen lips were drawn away from my teeth. Me head flew side ways with a jerk showing the taut sinew of my neck and the muscles stood out in knots all over my depredated body. My fingers clenched in a fist until they were white. Then my body sagged and perspiration, mixed with blood came out from my body on to the table. I uttered a deep groan and then there was a complete black out.

When I came back to my senses, they again started beating the soles of my feet with a ruler. I pleaded for mercy and incoherently told them with each stroke that I did not go to Pakistan. The pain ripped my heart apart. I remembered and beseeched God to come to my rescue, and save me from the torture or to take me away from this senseless world. But its said "When fate strike, then even one's own shadow leaves him alone to suffer." It was true in my case. My own toughness and strength of conscientiousness, about which I was so proud, could not keep with me. In an attempt to pull through the calamity that had befallen me, I had tried beyond the limits that are not conceivable to a human mind. And thus when I could bear it no longer I said, "Oh leave me. I had gone to Pakistan but please don't beat me." Even then, before effecting the cease fire, I received five or six more strokes; each followed by dirty abuses. And then suddenly a hush descended upon the room. The interrogators were charged with a relief of Hitlerian victory over Poland. The only sound which disturbed the calm atmosphere of the room were my mute sobs. I was looking at the miserable state of my feet and trying to caress them with my hand which was paining as much.

It certainly is a matter of great pride for any soldier to die at the hands of his enemy; either in a battle or in custody. It's a matter altogether different for him to die at the hands of his own people, his close friends, for their unfounded misconceived sense of patriotism; for their perverted minds fantasies; for reasons unknown to him. Such a death is highly noxious. I also faced the latter situation. I sincerely wished that I had died in a battle in the 1971 war. Then at least I wouldn't have to see this day, but the inevitable always happens and disregards wishes; and for that I was alive, to face the incredible drama.

A clip board with papers clipped to it and a pen was handed over to me. I was asked to write down about my having gone to Pakistan and to sign it. I took the clip board and the pen, hesitated for a moment the clip board to Major Jolly. Looking at what I had written and smiling crookedly Jolly said, `Heh, heh, heh! Clever bastard. Aren't you?' And then displaying anger with deep furrows on his forehead, added `Write down the whole story from the beginning till the end. Do you understand that?'

`But I don't know the story,' I replied.

At that KSS leapt from his seat, apparently with an intention to hit me, but he was pulled back by Jolly who said, `Kanwar Sahib leave that. So what if he does not remember. `What are we here for?' He then turned to me and producing a few written sheets from his bag said, `Sign it... here.' He pointed to the place where my signature was required, with the tip of ruler, which he kept swinging in his hands. I closed my eyes, thought for a second; hesitated but when I heard Jolly shouting `Sign it you bastard,' I quickly put my signature down, while wondering what could the contents be, then dismissings the thought that, whatever it may be, let fate now takeover. I returned the signed sheet.

Once I had appended my signature, Jolly came to me and patted me most lovingly. I looked at the trio and found a kind of happiness radiating from their faces, which mostly manifests in a person on finding his hard and strenuous labour turning into a profitable one. And why not? Had they not stretched their every muscle and used every bit of their strategy to turn an innocent person to be a traitor? It was most remarkable that not a single senior officer of the Intelligence ever came to see what was happening in the Interrogation Centre. But what of senior officers, when the Commandant responsible to put me under arrest did not think it necessary to find out where the officer was. It would be very interesting to note that Colonel Harbhajan Singh, responsible for putting me under close arrest never showed up. It would do good to analyse the most irresponsible and unbecoming acts of the so called senior officers of the Indian Army. It proves the death of their morality and conscience. What of it, if I had died? How would Colonel Harbhajan Singh have accounted for his responsibilities? Was he not under the legal obligations to provide protection to me, as the law demanded? Alas no; there are plenty of escape routes for the senior officers that are intrinsic in the Indian army, which is nicely guarded with a tight iron curtain drawn on it by virtue of its being a highly secret organisation! Here the lives of innocent people really don't matter, is a conclusion one reaches after such analysis.

A physical wreck with my senses paralysed I became dumb. I had neither the strength nor the capability of thinking or appreciating anything. I was drifting without wings in the air; treading on unknown and hostile paths, stumbling with the reflexes of my new masters of destiny, who were to become the masters of the destinies of countless innocent people and that of the army itself.

`Jolly Sahib, I think you should let him write the whole story in his own handwriting...' it was suggested. I was sitting with closed eyes, thinking about nothing, almost asleep.

`Rathaur, don't sleep. You'd get plenty of time to do so, I'll make sure you get all available comforts due to an officer, but before you get that, write down the confession in your own handwriting,' Jolly said. `It would not take very long... I shall dictate it to you to make it quicker.' Then he passed the clip-board and a pen to me. On dictation I started writing.

`While I was posted in Samba, one day Captain Nagial came to me some time in third week of July 74. We met....'

`Sir, third week of July 1974?' I stopped writing and asked in surprise, `In third week of July I was not in Samba, but in my village...'

`Bastard stop wasting our time your game is over now. You cannot detrack us,' interrupted Jolly.

I looked at Major Jolly unbelievingly and thought to myself, so he is a friend of mine, who is not even prepared to listen to what I was going to say, eh? Then I decided something and said.' I'm sorry, sir, I will not interrupt you.' And I continued writing.

`.....affectionately and talked about our past. While tallking Nagial asked me about my work. Then changing the topic he talked about smuggling. He said that there was a lot of money in smuggling, that was easy for them. He tried to lure me into smuggling. I told him categorically that I did not want to earn a bad name and to put the name of my family into disrepute by indulging in unpatriotic and anti national activities. And when I enquired if he was already indulging in that, Nagial denied saying, don't be silly. After sometime, he left for his home in Manwal Camp.

He came again to meet me about a week late, in a taxi No. JKT 5290 belonging to his brother Rup Lal. I asked him, where was he going in the taxi. He tole me, he had come to leave a girl in one of the border villages, Nanga; and that the girl was a game. He asked me if I was interested in enjoying her. I consented. He invited me to his place at Manwal Camp. I went to him...." What was the date, 30 or 31 July 74?' Jolly asked.

Whatever it may be, how does it matter?' I thought and said, `I think it was 31 July.'

`Well then write it down,' said Jolly and I wrote it.

`... on 31 July 1974 I went to Manwal Camp, in my civil jeep. When I reached his house, I learnt that Nagial was at his in-laws house in Kishanpur Camp. In the house, his aunt Shrimati Shahni Devi was present. I was disappointed and I wanted to leave when suddenly gunner (Gnr) Aya Singh came. He made me wait while he went to fetch Captain Nagial. After about half an house, Captain Nagial, his wife Bechno Devi, Gnr Aya Singh and his wife, came in my jeep. Nagial introduced me to his wife and the others. Then he asked me to send the driver and the jeep back to Samba. He said he would drop me in Samba en route to Nanga, where he had to go to attend the marriage party of one of his friends Dr. R.K. Sharma. Thereafter, we started taking drinks..." What drinks did you take?' Asked Jolly.

`Scotch,' I replied mechanically.

Hmmm... scotch! Bastard you took whisky. Didn't you?' Corrected Jolly.

`Yes, sir, it was whisky.' What else did I know?

`Then write it down,' And I wrote, "... We took whisky.

It was over two hours past since we had started drinking, I started losing my senses. Nagial told me, let us go, and if you wish you can have the girl tonight, the one I promised to you. I agreed. Thereafter we set off in the taxi to Dr. Sharma's house, Gnr Aya Singh was also with us. We reached Ramgarh...."

`Which way did you drive?' Queried Jolly.

`Via Jammu.'

`No, no you clown. You drove via Samba.'

`Yes, sir, we came via Samba.' I conceded.

`Then why the hell do you say, Jammu?'

`I think, sir, as you say I was drunk, so probably I didn't know which way.'

`Well, that's okay. Then where did you go from Ramgarh?'

`....'

`I say where did you go from Ramgarh?' repeated Jolly

`Yes, sir. I think to, Nanga. Where else?'

"From Ramgarh we drove to Nanga. Then from Nanga we drove to Kamore, and from there to Palota. Near Palota the taxi broke down. Nagial suggested, that since the village was near by we should walk down to the house. Nagial asked me to open my bright shirt and Gnr Aya Singh went running to a nearby pond and returned with a wet towel. He placed the towel on me saying, it would ease me from my drunken state. Gnr Aya Singh was carrying a knife. He asked us to wait for him, while he went to leave the knife at one of his friend's house. He said, carrying a knife to attend a marriage party was improper.

While waiting for Aya Singh, we were suddenly surrounded by the Pakistan's rangers. I told Nagial to run away, but he kept standing and dissuaded me from running too. The rangers overpowered us saying, we were in Pakistan. I pleased to the rangers to let us go, since we had inadvertently crossed over the border while going to attend a marriage party. They refused and took us to Pak Post Gandial and there we were confined in a small room. After about an hour, a person came and introduced himself as Major Khan of the Pak Field Intelligence Unit (FIU). He shook hands with us, and thereafter persuaded us to work for Pakistan. After a little hesitation we gave in. Then we were entertained with the drinks, that Khan had brought with him. While we were drinking, another person in civilian clothes and dark glasses came in. He was introduced as Major Akhtar Mahmood of the Pak FIU. Then we were taken to separate rooms. I was asked to give information...'

`What information did they ask from you? Did they or did they not?' Questioned Jolly.

`Yes, sir, they must have, but since I was drunk already and as you say, had consumed liquor offered by Khan, so naturally I was not in my senses. Won't anyone else had become the same?'

`Major Jolly looked at me, smiled, and then said, `That's all right son, you keep writing.'

"... of my formation Hqs. The information passed were as under :-

(a) Orbat HQ 168 Inf Bde.

(b) The name of the Commander and the COs.

(c) The detail of the Bde defences and its area of responsibility.

(d) The battle location of flanking formations.

Then I was photographed with Majors Khan and Akhtar Mahmood.

Major Khan gave me an envelope containing....." `How much money was there in the envelope?' Asked Jolly.

I thought for a second calculating how much would I have paid to my sources for the above information, and replied `Sir, I think there were five hundred rupees.'

`Humm. Five hundred! And how much did you pay to Gnr Aya Singh?' Asked Jolly. Asked Jolly.

`You see, sir, since I didn't want to work, I gave all the money to him.'

`Heh, heh - heh!' Major Jolly laughed, twitching his lips and said, `Clever bastard, aren't you? - so you gave all the money to Aya Singh. tst-tst-tst,' he looked at me mockingly and said, àny way you keep writing.'

"... rupees 15,000/-. Then I was made to fill in a contract form and sign it."

`Weren't you? And were you not photographed with that form standing beside Khan?' Jolly suggested and said, `And son, those photographs are with us now.... in this bag... here,' and pointed to the bag usually carried by KSS. He further said,' You thought we just laid our hands on you!... Didn't you?... Son never underestimate us. We did, what we did to you to hear this from your mouth and make you realise the damage you have done. But it's okay now.'

Is it from my mouth that you're hearing? I wanted to say, `Yes. Yes devils, you don't have even an ant's brain to analyse things. You can't differentiate facts from fiction. Otherwise there was no reason for me to suffer the extreme torture and the ignominy, I've suffered. All the same never mind and let me get out of this cell, then you'll see every evidence including my photographs with Khan, and you'll keep seeing them for the rest of your life. You'll forget torturing people.

I said none of it, of course. I was too frightened to the people who had inhumanly tortured me and frightened of their biased minds. So instead, I feigned surprise and asked as if shocked, `Oh my God! I never thought you'd collected my photographs, infact, so much evidence against me! Why then didn't you tell me earlier!!' I said quizzically and muttered to myself, you visionary enthusiasts!

`That's okay son. Now you continue writing', Major Jolly thundered, assuming an air of authority.

"Then, from nowhere, suddenly Gnr Aya Singh appeared. I was surprised to see him there, and when I enquired, he just smiled. Thereafter we left. En route I asked Nagial, why did they do so to me, and asked if Nagial was already in the game. He told me, he wasn't but Gnr Aya Singh was. In the taxi I gave Rs. 200/- to Aya Singh as a reward, and asked them to work whole heartedly and earn as much money as was possible. Because I knew one day we would be caught.

They dropped me at the forest check post near Samba. I caught a bus and reached at the Bde Hqs. After three or four days Nagial came to me and told me that Sepoy Ajit was already working for Pakistan and hence he would act as my courier. I handed over an envelope to Nagial containing some information."....

`And what were those informations?'

`Well, sir, the same information as I gave verbally to Khan. This time they were in writing and in more detail.'

`Was it not the detailed deployment of the Brigade and its units, and the alignment of the DCB?' suggested Jolly.

`So, you know those details also which were contained in the envelope I handed over to Nagial, which subsequently, as it seems, must have been passed over to Pakistan?' I enquired tauntingly, but in such a way, so that the effect was not noticed by the interrogators.

Jolly said, `Damn it. You still think we don't know? We know each and everything.'....

`Son when you people used to enjoy' KSS interrupted, `wine and women we used to suffer all the unimaginable hardships to keep a track of your moments.....'

`... And wherever you have even pissed, we have put a circle around that place.' it was Chaudhary, giving the talk, a final touch.

I thought, while trying to resist the drowsiness due to utter exhausion, great detectives and big talks. One wonders why they wasted their efforts, putting only circles, instead of apprehending me? Alas! I wish I had done, what you're claiming. Then I wouldn't have been here... You're nothing but a wicked and vicious bunch of biased minds. That is what exactly you are. But I refrained from saying anything.

`And you were also given the task by Major Khan to submit the Orbat of 39 and 26 Infantry Divisions, and you gave that to Captain Nagial, did you not?' It was Major Jolly who was supplying me with answers that I was being made to write.

At that moment the light went out and the room was pitched into complete darkness. I wanted to take advantage of the darkness; to assault and kill them. I tried to raise my left hand which was handcuffed. But instantly it was evident to me, that the handcuff chain was too heavy for my hand to lift let alone strike. So even as the idea came to me, I let it pass. The adventure was too risky to undertake.

`The bastard is stinking like a decayed garbage heap,' Jolly uttered in disgust; apparently they had not realised earlier, because the celling fan running at its full speed, had warded off the nauseating smell, emanating from my unwashed and uncleaned body, which by then was covered with a thick paste of a mixture of blood and sweat. Meanwhile, the generator was switched on and the lights came on.

Everyone had blocked their smelling holes with handkerchiefs. I saw them with their disgusted looks, pulled up faces and contorted eyes. It was a wonder to see the scavengers acting aristocratically.

`Ohe Rathaur,' said Jolly, `Dammit, are you man? When did you take a bath? And since when have you not changed your clothes?' Then making his voice sound sympathetic, `After all you're an officer. At least you could have looked after yourself, by taking baths and changing your clothes! shouldn't you have?!'

I remained silent. infact I could not speak a word, as I found my voice choked, to listen to a sympathetic voice, of a person, whom I thought was my very close friend. I knew, the sympathy was nothing but a very hurting and painful joke. I considered. `He has a face to say that "who stopped you." And out of helplessness, the tears gave vent to the voice.

`Come on now, don't cry. You shall have a bath with a massage. Forget what all has happened,' Jolly consoled me.

I controlled myself and requested, if the remaining story could be dictated later on. I said, I was utterly exhausted and so, unable to do anything. The request was turned down. The important task must be completed first, in case I changed my mind, was what they probably thought.

`So where were we,' asked Jolly and then looking at the paper held his hands, said, `we were at the deployment of 26 Infantry Division.... Am I correct? Now that's the deployment of this formation?' Asked Jolly.

`I don't know, sir.'

`What? What did you say, you don't know?'

`I'm sorry, sir, what I mean is I don't remember.. I don't remember it now,' I tried to evade the question. In fact, I did not know the deployment of that formation as I had no concern with it, ever.

`Don't worry. What for I am here? I'm here to remind you everything.' said Jolly and dictated the deployment of 26 Infantry Division. Since I knew the deployment of 39 infantry Division, I wrote that myself.

`What next?'

`Nothing, sir. Because I decided not to work against my own organisation,' I replied.

`Heh - heh - heh. Look at the well wisher of the organisation!', Jolly said mockingly to me. `Son as yet your friend Ajit has not figured. What do you say to that?'

Oh! Where the hell are you dragging me? Now what about this fucking Ajit? What's he going to say? And you Nagial bastard, you shall never live in peace. You accused me, why did you have to do that?' I cursed God and every one alike. Though I was soon to learn why Nagial incriminated me, if at all it was Nagial who did that! But not then. That time I cursed and cursed Nagial.

`I am asking you something,' shouted Jolly, `Don't try to evade and start cooking fresh stories.... You can't. Your game is long over. Do you understand that?' Jolly squawked.

`Yes, sir, I understand that, but I cannot remember anything in the present state of mind, can I? Can't you see and realise my condition?' I said and then suggested, `It is better if you keep on dictating instead asking me questions...'

`All right, all right, now don't be jumpy. I shall do that,' Major Jolly said, and the rest of the story followed.

"... I was introduced to Ajit by Nagial later in December 1974 when he met me again. Iin March, 1975 before proceeding to attend the Junior Command Course, Nagial came to me. And we both, along with Ajit, crossed over to Pakistan. On Major Khan's arrival we all gave him the information that we had carried separately. This time I was given the task to expand my sphere of activities towards 11 Corps. I received rupees seven thousand and how much was given to the others, I don't know.

In July or August 1975, Nagial who had been posted to HQ 16 Corps as GSO 3 (Int), came to me and broke the sad news of Gnr Aya Singh's arrest. Though Nagial encouraged me by saying that Aya will not give our names. Through my contants with the local Intelligence agencies, I came to know that Gnr Aya Singh was lodged in the quarter guard of 5 Sikh Li. I sent Ajit to contact him and to warn him not to give our names. I also gave him Rs. 200/- to give to Aya Singh. Ajit came back and apprised me in the affirmative. I felt relieved. But in September 1975 Nagial was also arrested. I was perturbed. I learnt that Aya Singh had not disclosed my name during his interrogation, and that after the interrogation he was attached to 4/1 Gurkha Rifles at Dharamsala. I once again sent sepoy Ajit to meet Aya Singh and to tell him, not to disclose my name even if he was called for reinterrogation. And that I would help to fight his case. Later, Nagial was also attached with the same unit.

Thereafter I called Ajit and talked to him about the situation. We decided that I should provide help, while remaining undercover, whereas Ajit could do that openly, being a relation of Aya Singh and nobody would suspect him. While we were discussing sepoy Ajit disclosed to me that Sardar Ram Singh, father-in-law of Nagial was also working for Pakistan. hence we decided to take Ram Singh with us. Accordingly we crossed over. On Khan's arrival we apprised him about Nagial's arrest. Major Khan was grieved to hear the sad news. He gave us Rs. 30,000 and asked us to hire a top lawyer in the country for fighting Nagial's case. He also assured further help. On return I told Ajit to contact Major Ajwani, the DJAG, with whom I had already discussed the case after having taken him into confidence, soon after Captain Nagial's arrest..."

`Well now what happened thereafter? We would like to hear from you,' asked Major Jolly.

I thought for a while and wrote, "Thereafter I proceeded on leave. While on leave, I received my posting order. I felt very happy at the posting order, as I had become weary, because of my friends arrest. It was a break for me. And thereafter I did not work.."

God alone knows what the date was, but I was made to sign the confession dated as 31 August 1978. Then I was asked to read it loudly. I understood the meaning of reading it aloud. It was being tape recorded.

After the writing of confession was over, I was given a VIP treatment. I was led back to the cell where my injuries were nursed, antiseptic creams were applied to the wounds; a massage by one of the sentries was given, then I was ceremoniously led to the bathroom and given a hot bath treatment. I accepted everything with great relief, and was fast asleep in the cell. The sleep was much needed and hard earned! I was feeling content even after having signed the confession. At that time I did not want to think about anything, till I was fresh to do so.

During the entire period, since my arrest, I had not thought about my wife and my ailing daughter, except on occasional fleeting moments, which I was unable to hold due to the forced struggle for survival.

The following morning when I was woken up I realised, and said to myself, My God, how selfish had I been! Despite my chaim of unending love for my wife and children, I could not think of them; nor even once. So it was true; nothing is dearer than self. Even a claim of a true love is only a dictate of selfishness! And why, had Jolly not showed his true love for me.'

The Price of Loyalty - THE DEVIL !!!

I narrated a few more similar incidents and said, `Those were my activities in detail, sir, while I served in Samba.' Then I looked up helpfully at the interrogators - wishfully thinking they would let me go.

`Who all were your good friends, and the colleagues, seniors and subordinates with whom you had close and cordial relations?' Asked KSS.

I recounted the names of all such persons adding, `In fact I had cordial relations with everyone.'

At that moment, the door opened. I saw major S.C. Jolly entering the room dramatically. Bending a little forward, slowly lifting and placing each step in turn, hands swinging like the motion of leaves and shouting, `liar! liar!! liar!!!. The bastard is a liar. Gentlemen, whatever he told you is a complete lie.'

The happiness which had flashed in me on seeing Jolly disappeared like lightning behind clouds, when I heard that everything had come to a standstill. I watched the scene helplessly like a stranger in a strange land. I found myself looking at Major Jolly and through him, to our sweet association of the past; marvelling at the changed attitude of this officer whom I always adored.

`Look you bastard, you have been fooling these innocent police officers fot the past number of days. But you can't fool me.... your Pop, Pop who has known for complete two years.' Jolly shouted at me.

Listening to Jolly, for a few seconds, I was competely dumb. And when I spoke, I felt my words coming from a far off place. I said, `Jolly, sir tell me, have you gone out of your senses? Whatever shit you're talking from which it appears you have you're saying this!.... this to me? To me whom you always loved and liked. And more so when you know me, know my morality and my dedication to the work which you have admitted so many times and that too before the senior officers?' I stopped for a pause and, looking into Jolly's eyes, added, `It's terrible. Terrible to listen to this rubbish from your mouth.'

`Shut up you traitor,' shouted Jolly and added, `Yes I know you, I know bastards like you. I have to know, otherwise how can they be brought to book?... if you think you've a little sense and if you love your life, then blurt out the dirt.'

In my derelict and precarious condition, I found a surge of bitterness and anger overpowering me. When I spoke, I spoke with charged emotions. `Don't fuckin' well call me a traitor. Understand? And now, speak what? I'm fed up with listening to this speak out, speak out, speak of what, when I've spoken out my heart. Now listen you all, and carefully. I have nothing to....'

I was cut short with a slap with chappal on my face by Jolly, my best friend! I felt a stabbing pain for a moment and thereafter, I could not remember anything as I slumped to the ground, unconscious.

I remained senseless for hours on end. When revived I felt excruciating pain tearing my mind apart. I remembered the behaviour of Jolly with remorse. Ìncredible', I uttered to myself. Then, slowly I opened my eyes and inspected the surroundings. I found the door of the cell was open and the iron bars shutter was pulled on the door. At least some fresh air, I thought.

I saw a sentry standing in the gallery looking at me with a kind of pity in his eyes. Then suddenly, I felt terribly thirsty. `Can I have a glass of water?, `I pleaded in my weak voice to the sentry. The sentry kept his finger on his lips, an indication to remain quiet. Then, slowly he moved away and brought a glass of water, hidden in his pouch. Looking nervously for any sign of danger, yet with a desire to help me, the sentry slid the glass quickly through rectangled space of the iron shutter. In the process, half of the water spilled out. I quickly grabbed the glass and gulped the water down in half a breath. Then licking my dry lips with the tongue, I looked at the sentry with imploring looks for some more water. `I shall bring more, a little later,' the sentry coughed to assure himself that nothing had happened, stood erect, then winked at me giving an indication of the approaching danger and telling me in a whisper to keep lying and pose as unconscious. While telling this the sentry looked at the ceiling. At that moment, I heard the voice of Chotte Sahib asking the sentry. `Has he come to his senses?'.... Then a voice came from closeby - the jingling of the shutter. The Chotte Sahib entered the door and said, `My God! It's killing!!' These remarks were a reference to the foul smell permeating the air from a source, the unwashed, unwashed, with thick coat of sweat mixed in blood resulting from nose bleeding and other small wounds - my skeleton. The Chotte Sahib took my wrist in his hand to feel the pulse. Then, he placed one of his hands on my burning head. The placing of his hand by Chotte Sahib gave lot of relief to me. But I remained unmoved, pretending unconsciousness.

I heard Chotte Sahib saying, `The bastard is hell of a tough guy. After so much torture and beating, he's not given in. But anyway how long can he stand up to this..... Well let me try.' I found my body being shaken by Chotte Sahib who was asking me to get up. And then he gave up.

I was in my senses. But I pretended successfully to be out of senses. So, the Chotte Sahib, instructing the sentry to awaken him when I was revived, left. After about fifteen minutes, the sentry gave me a tumbler full of water and said, `Your life is spoiled sahib. The way they are torturing you makes our blood boil. But what then? We are quite helpless; we can't do any thing.' Then he asked innocently, `Sahib are you really a spy?'

Hearing that, for a moment I forgot all the pains, then looking at the sentry asked, `What do you think?'

`We can't believe it. But they are saying they have all the proofs against you,' replied the sentry.

`Well brother, I don't know what proofs they are talking about. It all sounds absurd.... But there has to be something, which rightly or wrongly they know about and believe to be correct. Otherwise, they would not have reduced me to the present state.... Now, what is that, how do they know and who is responsible for incriminating me? I've no answers to these questions; I don't know.... It's a mystery to me. I wish they ask me directly. Only then can I clear their doubts. But alas!..... `Staring into space, I muttered,' God alone knows why I'm made to suffer this humiliation and disgusting brutal torture... or.... How long this will continue; whether I will be pull myself through or die.... I don't know.'I breathed deeply and looked at the sentry.

Anyway sahib, if you're innocent God will see to it, don't worry.' The sentry consoled and offered me a biree to smoke.

Despite my crushing pains, I felt emotionally moved at this humane gesture of the sentry. I was disallowed smoking since the day I had been brought to this slaughterhouse. So I greedily accepted the offer. The sentry lit two birees and nervously, gave one to me, retaining the other for himself.

`Thank you.... Thank you so much brother,' I expressed my gratitude and smoked with relish till there was nothing left of the biree. After smoking, I asked the sentry, `What's the time?' It was 2:30 A.M. and the date 30 August.

`30 August?' I asked in surprise.

Yes. And, sahib I have strict orders to make you stand, the moment you regain consciousness. But seeing your condition, the only thing I can do to help you is to allow some rest. So, you better sleep,' advised tue sentry.

`Thank you, dear,' I said closing my eyes.

There was a chain of disorderly thoughts, like the cast of a film screened before the start of a picture - some readable, the others half read and remaining unread, when the viewer unable to keep pace with the fast changing cast, just stares, without any further attempt to read. I let my thoughts go astray, and along with the thoughts fell asleep on the only item in the cell; the rough coir mat, despite all the shooting pains in my body.

`However, the sleep didn't last long. I found myself up on my feet, after I had received a hard kick from the Chottee Sahib, and like an automation started counting the numbers. `Nine thousand nine hundred ninety eight... ninety seven.... six...'

It was the fifth or sixth or even the seventh day, since it was difficult for me to keep count, without sleep, rest, all the time either standing and counting the numbers or receiving severe beating, except when I was unconscious. I started loosing control over my senses, giving way to an unknown fear. I started trembling at the mere sight of Chotte Sahib or the interrogators. I saw my death looming large in them.

I was led to the interrogation room. Instead of two, now there were three butchers ready to suck the marrow from my bones.

`Heh - heh - heh. See here comes your friend Major sahib!' remarked KSS in sarcasm. Jolly looked at me for a few seconds and said, `Sit down you bastard.' And I obeyed.

`Ohe! Why the hell are you keeping your hands under your arse?' shouted KSS.

I didn't answer, but looked at KSS with the eyes of a goat taken for slaughter. At that, KSS got up, came near me and muttering, `You heard me, what did I ask?' slapped my face, adding, `You better answer fast, when I ask you. Understand, you mother fucker?'

I saw myself trapped in an utterly hopeless situation, where I could do nothing. Then I said, `Can't you see, my hands are cuffed behind?... where do you expect me to keep them? Under ....' I wanted to say `your arse', but kept quiet.

`Why? Why are you handcuffed? You must have done something wrong to annoy Chotte Sahib' said KSS stupidly.....

`Didn't you hear what I'm asking?', KSS shouted at the top of his voice.

What answer could I give? Didn't they know the answer. Was it not on their orders that the things were moving? Then what answer did they expect from me? But as I was afraid of another slap, I answered quickly, `I don't know sirs.... I really don't know what have I done to annoy anyone.... So what can I say?'

`Okay. This time I shall make you comfortable, but be careful in future. If I find you again handcuffed by the Chotte Sahib, then it might prove hard for you. And, bastard you're an officer; don't you feel ashamed if these inspectors handcuff you?' Saying this, KSS shouted for Chotte Sahib and, when he came, asked him to open the shackles.

Listening to the childish and irrelevant questions and finding myself forced to reply, to avoid beating, I was puzzled and lost. I did not understand nor did I know, what I should do to avoid getting slowly, but surely killed. `Oh God! How to pull through', I thought in utter desperation.

Logic and intelligence succeeds, but only when there is some one to appreciate to analyse such logic; not where the people are devoid of theintelligence to analyse such logic; not where the minds are pre-biased; not where the fools entertain a worng notion of being intelligent. And such I thought were my interrogators.

`All right. Now tell us, where all did you go and who all did you meet, after your arrival in Delhi?.. And don't try to hide anything or befool us. You have befooled us enough,' commanded Major Jolly.

`Well sir, you think so. I didn't. Nor have I any reason to befool you. But if you're thinking so, then how can I help that...'

`Shut up, and proceed to do what you've been asked to.'

I told them in detail about the places I had gone to and the people I had visited after my arrival in Delhi.

`Whose telephone numbers are lying in your sut case?'

`My sut case? How do you know there are telephone numbers?' so my box too has been opened in my absence: I want to know why? Who's got the right to do so? Why? Couldn't my box be opened in my presence? It's not that it matters, but a question of principles...'

`Chaudhary sahib I think we got to teach him principles first, before we asked any thing else,' KSS suggested. The Chotte Sahibs were called and I was laid on the table; flat on my stomach pressed by Chotte Sahibs, Jolly and Chaudhary. Thereafter KSS started hammering the soles of my feet with a ruler mercilessly, the feet which had become like feet of an elephant due to swelling caused by continuous standing. I shouted like a madman. It was beyond my physical or mental powers to bear this extreme brutal beating. I pleaded for mercy, I pleaded that I would not annoy them and I should be spared. At that I was left to cry. And cry I did, like an orphan child, but without any effect on the brutes who were devoid of any human feelings, I told them, the numbers were that of my friend Pasha and my sister's son.

`But we have checked; at these numbers no one knows you,' Jolly said.

Ìt's because, sir, the telephones belong to other people who live nearby. So obviously the owners don't know me, but they know my friend and my nephew,' I replied while wiping my tears with the torn sleeve of my stinking shirt.

`Okay, now tell us about Major Midha and Havildar Ram Sarup? What all did you talk to them?' Queried Major Jolly.

`I have already told you in detail; the time the date and the talk. Haven't I, sir? But if you again want I'll again tell you,'

`Hmmm, leave that. But you have been telling people here that you know about the interrogation. Haven't you?'

`Yes, sir. I did tell a few people and I told them also,' I said pointing to KSS and Mr. Chaudhary.

`Well if you're innocent then how the hell did you know it was interrogation?' asked Chaudhary.

I looked at all the three in contempt then suddenly remembering the beating, changed my expression. Then I explained in detail once again, about all the emaciated efforts to make the plan workable. I said, `sir, who under these circumstances would not know what it was? If one is a bit intelligent.'

`The problem with you bastard is that you are not only intelligent but super intelligent. Anyway rest assured; unless you come out with the dirt yourself, we will smash this brain of yours and throw it to the ants. Remember that. You think we can't do that?' said Jolly.

`Yes, sir, you can. I have no illusion that you cannot. You not only can do it, but you'll do so. Because I have no dirt in me to take out. And under the circumstances the only thing left for you to do is to smash my brain,' I looked at each of them and added,' so, sirs, I have a request. Kindly smash the brain quickly and relieve me of this inhuman torture.'

`Don't worry son. We'll not let you die so soon. Have you seen a dog dying?... You shall meet your end worse than a dog's death. If you have not seen one dying, you would soon see it for yourself.... tst..... tst. Sorry but you wónt live to narrate your experience to others,' spoke KSS, grinding his teeth and twitching his face. Then turning to his other companions he said, `I think we should give him an hour or two. In that let him decide. Which way he would like to be treated,' and turning to me said `Did you hear that, you burn, son of a dog.'.....

`Chotte Sahib, take this Dracula away,' KSS commanded. Thereafter I was sent back to the cell.

Immediately after lunch I was led back to the interrogation room. My blindfold was removed and I saw Major Midha sitting with the interrogators. Seeing him I saw a little streak of hope, an illusion which was soon dispelled. Major Midha strongly refuted any talk between us or having advised me to see the DMI. I could see clearly the contemptuous face, reflecting extreme hatred. He denied and belittled any knowledge about me or anything to do with my work.

It was a short interview. When Major Midha left, Havildar Ram Sarup was brought in. The interrogators asked Ram Sarup in my presence, if the latter had any talk which I had told the interrogators, that I had with him. like Midha, Ram Sarup also denied it. I saw clearly but with remorse, that my friends whom I held in esteem, were turning their faces away like strangers. What could I do? My friends had just tried to falsify the truth. In a desperate attempt to remind. Havildar Ram Sarup about the talks between us, I said, `But Ram Sarup I told......'

`You told me nothing and don't tell lies Sahib,' interrupted Ram Sarup. I looked at him in disgust, only a week ago, I remembered this worthy and loyal NCO swearing by his loyalty and here he was lying innocently. Phew!

I gave a derisive glance and looked away. I heard KSS shouting. `You are an intelligent liar but your game is now over.' Then KSS turned to Ram Sarup and said,' Thanks very much for telling us the truth. You may go.' Ram Sarup gave a nervous look at me and left.

Was Ram Sarup driven by the unknown forces of fate when he had denied a simple truth? Probably, yes. Because it was a look which turned out to be the last. I was never to see him again; except to hear the heart shattering cries, at the same place nearly after a month, before he was killed. He was tortured to death by the same persons who had thanked him for `telling the truth'. Was it fate that had contrived against the NCO? Once Ram Sarup left, the interrogators fell on me like hungry vultures on a carcass, denuding it or flesh with their sharp curved beaks and then breaking even the bones, one after the other. They slapped me, hit the soles of my feet with a ruler, bashed me up in my hips; and beat me with any weapon that was available to them. They pricked under the finger nails of my left hand with a needle, mercilessly and this was the most painful of all the tortures. Then they pulled away the hair of my moustache, one by one.

Under this hopeless situation I dragged on for two more days. Physically I was in hopelessly precarious condition. I was once again in the throes of agony which led me to the extreme and beyond it. But the devils took that as a part of my toughness. I was too though to be broken easily, the interrogators thought. But alas! There is nothing known to the human mind which is not broken. When the strongest matter can be broken, then what was I? A simple human being. And the human body is more vulnerable to such forces of brutality, as I was undergoing and mind deprived of physical support is fallible. So, the devils finally came out victorious!

`Do you know Captain Nagial?' Asked Jolly.

I looked at Jolly in surprise. Because Nagial was the GSO-3 (Int) under Jolly in Hq 16 Corps. Of course I knew Nagial as we had served together in 8 Dogras prior to our commission. We had applied and were selected to undergo pre-commission training together, in the Army Cadet College. I was put in a zero term and thus Nagial had passed out six months before me. That was in June 1969. After our respective commissions we had met each other for the first time in Major Jolly's office at Nagrota, in June 1975. This was known to major Jolly. Hence I was surprised at the question.

`Don't you know that, sir?' I asked

`But I'm asking you?'

`Yes, I know him,' I replied.

`Wasn't he your friend.'

`Well, if toknow a person while in service is called friendship, then yes.'

`The problem with you is that you know everything, but donkeys like you refuse to move unless kicked.'

`I don't get you, sir.'

`You will. Now, when was he posted as GSO 3 (Int)?'

Ì don't know. I only met him in 1975 in your office.'

`Don't you know Sepoy Ajit who was s relation of Captain Nagial?'

`Yes, sir, I know him. He was for sometime in my platoon before he was recalled to the Company Hqs'.

`Didn't he ever tell you he was related to Captain Nagial?'

`Yes, he did.'

`How and when?'

`How can I say that, when I don't remember. But may be during the short period he was my orderly.'

`When was it?'

`I don't exactly remember but I think when he served in Samba in March or April 1974.'

`Where did he go there after?'

`I said he was recalled to the Company Hqs.'

`Where is he now?'

`In some Jail, but where; that I don't know?'

`Why is he in a Jail?'

`For spying against India. Didn't I tell you?'

`How do you know this?'

Ì was told by Major Midha.'

`Bastard you know every thing. You know in which jail he is but you are bent upon getting yourself mauled. Aren't you?'

`I am completely exhausted replying to you time and again that I know nothing; nothing whatsoever about where either Nagial or Ajit is. However, since you are bent upon killing me, I am helpless-drifting in a rudderless boat. I'm being washed away under your tortures, like in an unknown swift current. By the way sir, can I dare to ask you, what relevance it has I know where Ajit is? Why don't ask me instead the circumstances, you know, to be the cause of my involvement with Ajit and Nagial. I can then clarify your doubts.' I said in a weak voice.

`Look Rathaur,' Jolly asked, `When was Nagial apprehended?'

`Well I think, sir, in September or October 1975.'

`When and how did you come to know about his arrest?'

`I came to know about Nagial's arrest from an Assistant Commandant (AC) of the BSF Intelligence, and if I correctly remember, his name was Ashok. This he told me during one of our joint interrogations, which we were carrying out at Samba, of a person apprehended at the border. It was probably mid November 1975,' I replied.

`Nagial's arrest was kept a high secret, then how did Mr. Ashok know?' Asked Jolly.

I wanted to say that was not my move to Delhi and arrest also kept a secret? So probably Nagial's arrest was also kept a secret similarly. Because that was the way the Military Intelligence tried to keep every thing a secret! Instead I said, `I don't know, sir. May be he knew that through the Intelligence Bureau sources, I can't say for sure how he did know.'

`But why did he volunteer the information to you?'

`I don't know why he did. May be out of mutual confidence being in the same profession, or may be out of revenge.

`What revenge? Why should he have any feelings of revenge?'

`Well, sir, if you may remember about Havildar Santokh Singh of the BSF who was apprehended for spying by the BSF and who, later had escaped from their custody. It was on your directions that I had indirectly investigated the case, and submitted the report to the Corps Hqs. And the draft of that report was prepared by you....! I said `looking at Jolly and asked, `Do you remember that, sir,?'

`Yes I know that.'

`Thank God! You remember at least that!! Then you would also remember that there was a big tumult over his interrogation. The army wanted to take him over but the BSF had not conceded. Then he escaped from their custody. And the BSF was openly ridiculed by the army. And I know it was all done under your investigation. It was you who use to say that Santokh Singh was deliverately allowed to escape from the BSF's higher direction...'

Yes, of course it was a preplan. Not only used to say, but I still say that,' Major Jolly interrupted and said,' and it was planned because there were a lot many BSF personnel including their officers who were involved. And the BSF didn't want their names to come out.'

`But how do you know, with such surety, that there were so many people involved and if you were or are still sure, then what action has been taken against them?'

`The action certainly will be taken. You don't have to worry about that. And bastard I'm not here to reply to your questions. And don't try to distract us. You've still not answered my question.'

`I 'm not distracting you, sir, rather I'm leading you to the answer. And to continue, there was lot of bitterness and mudslinging; though it was not on the surface. Prpbably Ashok also was bitter. So they had found a missile in the form of Captain Nagial to catapult on the army in exchange. Ashok had told me, "why blame a poor BSF Havildar, when in your army, officers are busy in spying, and what information can a Havildar give in comparison to an army officer, that too a GSO 3 (Int) of a Corps Hqs." And on my further asking about who the officer was Ashok had disclosed the name of Captain Nagial.'

`What was your reaction on hearing about his arrest?'

`Well, of course it was a shock to hear about an officer indulging is such dastardly acts, that too someone whom I knew.

At that I saw all three of them looking at each other with flashing eyes and crooked smiles on their lips.

At that moment it suddenly dawned on me and I thought, `Then was it Captain Nagial who incriminated me? Oh God! but why should he have done so? I had no enmity with him. And what could he have achieved by implicating an innocent person? But then if it was Nagial, then they should have called me earlier.'

Why have they done this after three years?

I got to know the answers to all the `why's', but that was much later.

`What did you do after hearing about Nagial?' Asked Major Jolly.

`Was I required to do anything, sir...?'

`Don't question, shouted Jolly,' answer precisely what is being asked.'

`Since I was not required to do anything, I didn't do anything. Out of sheer curiosity, I checked from Major Madan and disclosed the news to Captain V.K. Dewan the GSO 3 (Int), who was a friend of mine. Later. I also learnt about Nagial from Mr. A.K. Chabra from the Intelligence Bureau, who had probably arrested two serving personnels earlier; one of them was a relation of Nagial...'

`What else did Chabra tell you?'

`He told me that this relation of Nagial was instrumental in the arrest of Nagial.'

`And?'

`And, sir, he had expressed his shock over the way the army was interrogating, by treating a person worse than an animal: Then I had disagreed with his views. But how wrong I was! I know now, why he had condemned the army interrogators.'

Hearing this all three of them laughed at me, and Major Jolly said, `Son, your friend was correct and so are you. But you're a little mistaken at that. You haven't yet seen the real show. I'll tell you, we have mastered as many as thirty six techniques of inflicting torture. What you are undergoing is not even the third completed. So you can well imagine what might happen to you, in case you force us to apply all thirty six,' and giving a devilish smile he asked, `What is the name of that serving personnel who was instrumental in Captain Nagial's arrest?'

`I don't know, sir.'

`Don't worry we will make you remember.'

And remember, they made me. The beating was till then restricted to the interrogators and the Chotte Sahibs, and afterwards it was free for all. The sentries on duty were also made to test their strength against my misconceived toughness. I was made to suffer, the tortures of the worst kind and subjected to less unspeakable humiliation and disgrace. My whole body was lacerated with injuries, my ears were disfigured and my left hand had paralysed due to the insertion of needles under the fingers nails. My body had swollen like a balloon as a result of excessive pounding and continuous standing. There was hardly a part of my body which didn't have abrasions or that didn't pain. It was surely the eighth wonder of the world, to see me still breathing.

And finally I was lead again to the interrogation room, for the real show down; preliminary, to the bigger massacre of innumerable innocent lives which followed subsequently and a little later, not only the nation but the entire world knew it as `The Samba Spy Scandal', the worst of its kind in espionage history!

The Price of Loyalty - THE SECURITY !!!

It is a popular belief among the Indian public that its army is a very clean and honest organization. They look at the army with awe and reverence. But paradoxically the amount of corruption prevalent in this so-called clean organization if allowed to be exposed fully would make the `mafias' hang their heads in shame. However, an iron curtain is drawn to keep the army affairs secret from the public. Of course, in the army some of the people are very honest, upright and clean but exceptions cannot be termed as rules; corruption stems from the top and percolates to the lowest echelons. The best use is however, made by those who belong to its technical branches where there is plenty of scope to reveal the Indian character. To quote an instance: who does not know about the Indian General a GOC of an infantry division, who was removed from service along with many of his technical advisors, a couple of years ago. He was accused of misappropriation and misuse of vast public funds meant for the improvement of India's defense work in the Northern Sector. He is alleged to have made a glass-house on the banks of the fames Chenab River, and indulged in sprees of naked dances. But one thing clearly goes in his favor, that he did it not for himself alone but made the others share the joys equally, and that he had the guts to do so openly, in defiance of any danger from the government. Many dare not do that. Anyway there is a popular saying in the army: an elephant may pass undetected and instead a needle may get stuck. But in most cases how dare even a needle get stuck! The saying goes: When the beloved is in charge of the police station then who is there to be afraid of?

Apart from intelligence work, I was entrusted with security jobs also, specifically the security of material. If one is to do the job sincerely then it becomes a highly thankless one.

The high level security was however, not under my scope and purview as I was a mere speck in a dust storm. I had to placate were specific instructions to check and report upon the alleged underhand deals of selling damaged vehicles' spare parts en route Jammu and Pathankot. In order to do my job I created a network of informers all along my areas of responsibility.

The Army Supply Corps (ASC) convoys carry provisions for the troops deployed in forward areas. Such provisions are held by the forward depots and are further supplied to the troops. The provisions consist of a variety of stores such as coal, POL, cement rations etc. Some of these stores used to get diminished in quantity, through underhand deals, by the time convoys unloaded at the destination. The pilferage which took place (and who knows it must still be happening) was not in the form of a few odd bags of cement, rations or a couple of liters of POL. The ASC did believe in disposing of the entire load of a certain vehicle which may vary from three to tem tons or the entire POL tankers of three thousands liters capacity. The price of such stores was just nominal; clean and straight, one rupee a liter - thus leaving a vast margin of profit to the purchaser. Both parties were happy in their own ways. They had mutual love and affection. It became known during the course of investigation that the selling agent parted with a fraction of the money to please the in-charge at the unloading station / depot. Such amounts had already been settled through prior negotiations. But the bigger share went to the person who exposed himself to risk in contacting the purchaser and selling the material.

Initially, when I was told by my informer about these nefarious activities, I refused to believe it, but got a real shock when I saw it for myself. I immediately reported the matter to the Brigade Commander and to my OC at Yol. I was directed to impound such materials.

Such directions were wrong. It, by no stretch of imagination, fell under the scope of my duties. My task, being in the Intelligence and Field Security, was simply to locate the source and the place of pilferage: That I had done religiously. But I had to accept the directions even if reluctantly, as that meant exposing my men and myself to the offenders, because orders in the army are obeyed and not open to any just and reasonable arguments.

I was however, ensured help of the Military Police (CMP), whenever required.

There were only three NCOs with me in the Hqs. I could not nor did disturb the men already deployed on the border outposts (BOPs) along with the Border Security Force (BSF). The NCOs, viz. Havaldar Puran Chand who, on posting, was replaced by Raghubir Singh, Ram Sarup and Naik Jagdish Chand were excellent and experienced in their job. But the same was not true when it came to policing and catching people. And why only the NCO, I myself was blank on that issue.

Though we were able to impound the vehicles selling the military stores to the civilians, I could not bring the culprits to book. I was unable to retain the evidence. Thrice, it so happened. My men, who did the job in pairs, caught the culprits, but the latter escaped clear, as one of the pair would leave the other alone in order to inform the CMP. By the time the CMP would reach the spot, the driver, after intimidating the loner with the help of his civilian friends, used to disappear. The civilian party would remove the unloaded little quantity of stores to a safer place. Under the circumstances, without any witness and the material for evidence, the vehicle numbers that were noted, were of no use. We had no jurisdiction over the civilian. To check and interfere with them amounted to stirring up a hornets' nest. But there was one advantage; such persons were identified. I informed the local civil police about their activities.

The efforts were not half-hearted, but misdirected, ill-planned and prematurely enacted. This was due to lack of experience and ignorance of the job in the intelligence personnel trained entirely for jobs other than policing. However, these attempts, though failures, gave much-needed experience for future attempts, although, at the same time, it reduced the chances of success considerably. I and my men were exposed and there was a general alert among the offenders, who had switched over to more discreet methods of operations.

The major causes of failures were: premature raids, lack of strength to hold the offenders, uncertainty of the place and distance, speed with which the CMP could be summoned to the disturbed spot, presence of civil police to deal with the civilian and finally to immobilize the vehicle at the spot. The responsibility to affect these measures was ostensibly a complicated one.

I held a conference with my NCOs at length and devised a workable plan. According to this plan, selected places were to be kept under watch discreetly only during the convoy timings and from a concealed place, with full care, to avoid any alertness on the part of civilians. On detection of any underhand deal, one of the two persons was to leave instantly to inform the CMP and the civil police. The second person was to keep a vigil without interfering with the offenders' activities, till sufficient material was unloaded and then, if possible, to remove the ignition key of the vehicle, stealthily.

The act of pilferage was performed with great dexterity by ASC drivers. They would take the vehicle off the convoy under the pretext of a mechanical breakdown; then off the highway to a pre-selected hiding place and carry out the dubious transactions under the most favorable conditions. But the same could not remain a secret for long.

The incessant efforts at last bore the desired fruit. The opportunity was seized when one of the vehicles of the convoy first halted and then drove on to hide in a brick-kiln called `Jai Jawan' ironically and paradoxically true to its name, for it apparently flourished on the magnanimity of the army Jawans!

The vehicle was impounded with great precision and speed while the coal was being unloaded. The owner of the brick kiln and the driver were caught while exchanging money. Mr. Handoo the Assistant Sub Inspector of Samba Police Station, a shrewd and intelligent officer, proved of great help in initiating the case against the civilian defaulter. The ASC driver of the vehicle was arrested, brought to the brigade Hqs and later on handed over to his parent unit from where he was finally shunted out from the army by a court martial.

This tight sequence of fool-proof vigilance brought many offers to me, in the form of vast sums of money. In exchange, I was asked to lift the security curtain and to let the drama go on. I scornfully rejected those offers. `I am not the seed to grow in water' was the reply conveyed along with a request to the gangsters to stop their criminal and immoral acts. However, it was only after a couple of more such raids that these activities were checked to some extent.

It is only one side of the multi-faceted story, of corruptions that breed, get shelter and flourish in our so-called honest and clean organization.

Then there was the dirty business of selling and exchanging the damaged vehicles' spare parts while the vehicles were being evacuated from forward areas to OTG Pathankot.

In difficult terrain, when a vehicle meets with an accident, it is not recovered but written off as beyond economical recovery, although it is written off on papers, it is salvaged and sold. Where the money goes, remains a guess.

Is it the end? Surely not; not even the beginning. There was the case of RSSD Pathankot. It's a rail-head where the stores meant for Northern Command are unloaded. Tens of wagons carrying coal enter the heavily guarded siding and, after all the strict checks, leave empty. But at times, despite all eye-wash called checks, one odd wagon conveniently comes out minimum with two third of its load and, at a preselected place, is unloaded and the contents sold. Similarly the POL tankers are unloaded in 200 liters barrels. There is a space provided inside a barrel over and above 200 liters capacity, mainly to safeguard against escaping gases. If a barrel s topped it contains an extra ten liters. And where thousands of barrels are filled, the deal becomes reasonably profitable. Of course to write off vast quantities as leakage on papers, is a matter of privileged routine. If this can be done then no one dare raise an accusing finger when CGI sheets and the like, part of the defense stores are utilized in making trunks and like things of utility for personal use at a much lower level in the chain of command. One need not ask how these are then counted. These are counted because such stores are committed - on the ground. It is a different matter if the ground where these are committed is not the one for which these were meant. In any case how does it matter; who dares to challenge the probity of Indian army affairs? Would that not harm the security of the nation!

A ditch-cum-bundh, an artificial obstacle, was being constructed in the Samba Sector. The construction of pill boxes on the Ditch-cum-Bundh (DCB) and certain strong points was the task entrusted to an Engineer Regiment.

One day, when I had gone to visit one of the BOPs, I found a large, mixed working party of Engineers and Infantry in Tarna River. The party was busy making flower pots. I also found some cement slabs meant for the pill boxes. When I questioned the in-charge of the work site, I was told about the nature of the task. It was to prepare slabs. And the party in-charge was quiet when asked about the flower pots. I got suspicious and kept the site under watch for about one month. During that period, the slabs and the flower pots were prepared in the ratio of one to two. The pots were subsequently transferred to various army institutions, offices and finally to the houses of high ranking officials of the Northern Command. I thought the matter over with serious concern and realized that, apart from sheer misuse of manpower; the act amounted to playing with the lives of men and indirectly constituted an offence against the security of the nation. As such, it had to be reported. Before doing so I went to probe further. To my horror, the dastardly acts that I found through one of my highly reliable informers were enough to shatter the nerves and make a person insane. I at once reported this to my officer commanding.

The strong point, the name of which cannot be revealed due to security reasons, was supposed to be of a certain length. Half a kilometer was however missing from the total length on the ground. It was not that someone had removed it, but at the time of construction the length was left less.

To construct a yard of DCB costs thousands to the exchequer. And, if miles of it can be reduced on the ground, for who will go with a tape to make sure of the length, then no business can be more profitable. The cost of a pill-box constructed on the DCB is a little over six thousand rupees, whereas a pill-box in the depth cost around four thousand. If there were to be twenty pill boxes and twelve of them were to be constructed on the DCB and eight in depth, then, while keeping the number intact, the ratio was reversed on the ground, but not on the papers. Then hundreds of cement bags were shown as `set in' and destroyed by a board of officers, but in fact those were sold in the black market to civilians. Lacs of bricks were purchased from the local brick kilns but not more than half were ever lifted by the purchaser. Cement proportion for the pill boxes was supposed to be in the ratio of one is to three. In fact it was not even one is to five. Probably that had to be done otherwise from where the cement would have come for making flowers pots. Thus, under those circumstances a defense work which was being constructed as protection against a medium gun shell would not sustain, in practice, the impact of 81 mm mortar bomb.

What could be more preposterously murderer, profane and an act of devilry? Besides playing with the lives of innocent soldiers, it manifestly amounted to stabbing the nation in a broad daylight. Was there anything that anyone could do against such patriots? No, surely not. Who could do anything to such people who were the prot ges of very senior officers of the Indian Army?

The report, though turned down initially by the officer commanding, was later, on my persistent goading and supplying more information forwarded. No action however, was ever taken and who was to take the action when the Commander of that Engineer Regiment was very close to the Army Commander. It was widely rumored that a beautiful house for the Army Commander was constructed at Dharamsala by the commander of the Engineer Regiment concerned, making every use of the resources at his disposal, inclusive of the manpower.

Later there was a CBI enquiry against the Regiment. But nothing was known to me about the outcome of the case. The institution of CBI enquiry itself confirms that no action was ever taken by the army authorities concerned on my reports. On the other hand, I earned a title for myself - "Most Dangerous." The remark was conveyed to Brigadier SKA Borwanker, by the commander of the Engineer Regiment concerned, during one of the conferences. The same was communicated to me later on, and I had reciprocated with a broad smile.

I had caught one JCO carrying ammunition while he was proceeding on leave. The JCO was distantly related to the GOC of my division. So the General, naturally, was interested in saving him. Hence, the General tried to pressurize me and went even to the extent of saying; the ammunition was planted by my men. I did not yield to the pressure. My men could not plant the ammunition that had markings of the loaf of ammunition belonging to the JCO's unit, nor was there a motive for my men to do so.

`Then why, where was the motive for the JCO to carry ammunition?', asked the General.

`May be for fishing. How do I know?' I had replied.

But there were no fish in Rajasthan according to the General and rightly so. But probably the General did not know, or he did not want to know, nor was I prepared to speak in the face of stiff opposition, that such ammunition and even the arms were used by the dacoits! From where did the dacoits procure army weapons and ammunition? So was not the ammunition carried by the JCO meant to be sold to such dacoits? A General Court Martial (GCM) was held to try the JCO. Every material evidence, including the recovery of ammunition was produced before the court, against the JCO. But the GCM trying him could not find him guilty! He was acquitted. There was a retrial and again acquittal!!

Such were the army courts. As a result of my efforts, I fell from the pedestal of esteem of my GOC.