Sunanda K Datta-Ray: Torn between the past and the present

If only the past could be rewritten in light of the present or, better still, the future! That thought occurred to me during last week's 100th anniversary of the Gallipoli landings when the Western Allies tried to seal off Ottoman Turkey by occupying the Dardanelles. Indians and Armenians both fought at Gallipoli, albeit on opposite sides, but neither seemed disposed to join the commemorative ceremonies. There's a difference: the Armenians have drawn their lines between friend and foe, while Indians can't decide whether today's friend should be treated as yesterday's enemy.

Beyond that theme to which I'll return in a moment, the ritual at the Cenotaph in London's Whitehall had certain lessons. First, of course, it illustrated how well the British handle ceremonial. No wonder they wallowed in durbars in India. Second, Queen Elizabeth may have dropped out of the 300 richest Britons list but is a marvel of endurance, patience and dignity. As she laid her wreath and walked backwards down the steps, I kept my fingers crossed lest she miss a step. A much younger person might have stumbled. Not the octogenarian monarch. She epitomised majesty as she bent unaided to lay down the wreath and walked back to her place after a deep bow.

That's something else to note. As colonel in chief of certain regiments, the Queen often wore military uniform and sat on horseback saluting smartly like any regular officer. But never in civvies. The distinction should be drilled into our politicians. Indian ministers, men and woman alike, some fat and flabby, others shambling in dhoti or sari, clumsy of gait and uncoordinated of movement, never fail to raise a hand to the forehead in an awkward gesture that is meant to be a military salute but often looks more like a durwan's salaam.

Their ADCs should tell these functionaries that civilians in civvies do not salute. They stand still in respect or bow to show reverence. Adapting Western protocol to Indian custom, they might perhaps make a namaste to acknowledge a soldier's formal greeting. But under no condition should civilians be allowed to mock a sombre military ritual with an amateurish imitation.

Watching the Cenotaph ceremony, I looked in vain for Ranjan Mathai, India's High Commissioner. I didn't hear India announced among the wreath layers. But Pakistan was announced, and from a distance, the Pakistani representative looked extraordinarily like Nawaz Sharif. I wonder who it could have been.

This is where the real anomalies of World War I, of which Gallipoli was a detail, begin. Most Armenians were then subjects of the Ottoman empire, which was fighting Britain as Germany's ally. They cannot willingly have fought for the Turks whom they regarded as oppressors. They were further outraged when Turkey declared April 24 Gallipoli Day. It's the date Armenians mourn as Meds Yeghem, Great Catastrophe, when 1.5 million Armenians were massacred in what they call the modern world's first genocide. Turkey retorts that some Armenians perished from disease and related causes but the state had nothing to do with it. Be that as it may, it's understandable why Armenians are lukewarm about Gallipoli.

If Indians are also lukewarm, it's because of ambivalence about the war. India responded enthusiastically in 1914. Gandhi and the politicians were convinced participation would be rewarded with self-government. The princes expected higher titles and honours. Enlistment solved the employment problem of millions of peasant lads across the country. At one time, Indians complained that history books didn't pay enough attention to this contribution.

I am sure the military would love to celebrate an event in which more than 15,000 Indian (mainly Sikhs) soldiers took part and 1,400 died. The ANZAC forces paid tribute to Indian infantry and artillery support and to the Indian Mule Corps, which supplied food, water and ammunition through heavy Turkish fire. The mules were the war's unsung heroes.

But as second thoughts set in, Indians began to wonder whether the sacrifice had yielded dividend and whether it had been politic to oppose another Asian nation. Indians still want their heroism praised, but without mention of their secondary wartime role under British command. Apparently, a small plaque in a hospital in Ferozepur is the only memorial to Gallipoli.

Two factors compound embarrassment. First, Indians fought the Islamic caliphate, which Gandhi soon began extolling. Second, the Turks won. Modern Turkey has come to terms with all this and took part in the Whitehall ceremony. India still isn't pragmatic enough to be reconciled to the quirks of its own history.