Palden Thondup Namgyal, the 12th and last Chogyal of Sikkim, would
complain bitterly to his Indian friends, “Why are they doing this?
They’ve got everything already! What more can India possibly want?” And
his friends would believe that agents of the government of India were
doing their utmost to wreck the administration of a benevolent king.
Accounts of Sunanda K Datta-Ray and others of similar views have kept
alive the late Chogyal’s lament, with Indira Gandhi
cast in the role of a successor to British imperialism. This is grist
to the mill of those in Nepal constantly cautioning about the
Sikkimisation of Nepal (however different the circumstances).
Even the Global Times of China recently threatened to rouse the
people of Sikkim to demanding independence. Credible counter-narratives
placing an “Indian” perspective have been absent, or incomplete. GBS
Sidhu provides a comprehensive account of the history of Sikkim since
1947, and of the eventful days leading to its merger with India. As the
R&AW representative in Gangtok, he was both a major actor in and a
close observer of the rapidly moving kaleidoscope of events from 1973 to
1975.
Jawaharlal Nehru
granted special status to Sikkim in 1947, overriding Vallabhbhai Patel
and BN Rau, who equated Sikkim with other members of the Chamber of
Princes. Years later, PN Dhar recalled that Indira Gandhi had said “in
very clear terms” that her father had made a mistake in not heeding the
wishes of the people of Sikkim to merge with India. Nehru possibly saw
the parallel between Sikkim and Tibet envisaged in the Anglo-Chinese
convention of March 1890, where their respective interests in Sikkim and
Tibet were acknowledged, and, thus, Tibet was expected to be
reciprocally left alone. He was soon to be gravely disillusioned.
Sikkim’s demand to be put on the same platform as Bhutan was, however,
rejected.
As the author points out, the Indian attitude after 1947 “left very
little scope for the pro-democracy and anti-durbar political forces in
Sikkim to fight for its merger with India.” Meanwhile, Palden Thondup
Namgyal — later the Chogyal — continued to feed into India’s security
concerns with assurances that he would be the best bet for India. The
electoral system introduced through a 1953 proclamation had given
overwhelming weightage to the Bhutia-Lepcha population, despite their
being 25 per cent of the population.
The majority Nepali population faced discrimination at many levels.
Agricultural and other reforms were not touched by the durbar. The
cornerstone of Indian policy, support to the durbar on perceived
security interests, “ran foul of the people’s aspirations”. A warning
bell would have sounded in the Indian establishment on Hope Cooke’s 1966
article seeking the restoration of Darjeeling. A CIA connection,
unsubstantiated and likely untrue, was suspected.
The Chogyal made the mistake, like many others, of underestimating
Indira Gandhi when she became prime minister in 1966. Anti-India
protests were encouraged and his European visits portrayed as meetings
with local royalty. There was a demand for revising the 1950 treaty as
between two sovereign states and suggestions for joining the UN. Soon,
the Chogyal was to acquire a staunch supporter in the new Indian foreign
secretary, TN Kaul, whom he had known since the early 1950s. Unknown to
Kaul, then principal secretary PN Haksar advised the PM, “There was a
time in 1947 when the people of Sikkim were with India. Thereafter, we
developed great fondness for the Sikkim durbar and now we wait on his
frowns and his smiles… we must not delude ourselves. The Chogyal wants
independence, a membership of the UN and is gradually eroding our will.”
In early December 1972, Kaul was replaced by Kewal Singh, a shrewd
diplomat with no personal axe to grind. By the end of 1972, in language
reminiscent of William Shakespeare, India Gandhi asked RN Kao, the
legendary head of the R&AW, “ to do something about Sikkim”.
Sidhu went to Gangtok in 1973 as head of a small R&AW team,
ostensibly to inform the Chogyal of Chinese activities. His real charter
was to liaise with the Sikkim Congress, provide them with assistance
and advice in the final, by then, aim of Sikkim’s merger with India.
Sidhu recounts in detail his efforts to unify the pro-democracy and
pro-merger political forces in Sikkim, which also happened to represent
the majority. His efforts contributed to their resounding victory in the
1974 elections and subsequent resolutions leading to the merger of
Sikkim in April, 1975.
Sidhu’s account of his tenure in Gangtok is absorbing. All the
characters in the last act of the play, the Chogyal and Gyalmo, the
irresistible sister Coocoola, Kazi Lhendup Dorjee, whose lifelong
ambition was to see Sikkim as a part of India, the Scottish Kazini Elisa
Maria who occasionally played foolish and dangerous games, political
officer KS Bajpai and Gurbachan Singh, the principal executives, BS Das
and his successor come to life in this extraordinary account.
Sidhu makes no bones about his personal admiration for the Kazi, whom
he considers a true Indian patriot. There is nothing defensive about
Sidhu’s narrative that India did withdraw its support to the Chogyal and
let the will of the people prevail with its support.
Of the Chogyal, there was prescient comment on his character, when he
was only the Maharaj Kumar, by the then diwan, JS Lall in a note for
Nehru in 1953: “The Maharaj Kumar once remarked that the state is the
ruler. When he becomes the ruler himself, he will probably try to put
this into effect, and thus set forces into motion which might well
annihilate him and his dynasty.” This prophecy was to hold true for
another dynasty as well in neighbouring Nepal a few decades later, where
king Gyanendra suffered from the same hubris.
Though written decades after the events described, Sidhu’s account is
essential for students of Indian history. It lays to rest any
suggestion of the forcible annexation of Sikkim. It also casts a searing
light on the functioning of the Indian establishment where, at various
times, the heads of the foreign policy and intelligence establishments
and others kept the cards so close to their chests that senior field
officers were misguided about national objectives, confusing friends and
adversaries alike. In this context, one must have some sympathy both
for the Chogyal and his apologists for misreading the omens. Sidhu’s
account brilliantly recaptures the aura of those times.
By Deb Mukharji (is former Indian ambassador to Nepal) for https://indianexpress.com
Post a Comment