Travels and travails on the LoC

The Line of Control
Travelling With the Indian and Pakistani Armies
Happymon Jacob
Penguin Random House
201 pages; Rs 499
 
Happymon Jacob’s new book, The Line of Control: Travelling With the Indian and Pakistani Armies, is less about the line of control (LoC) than about travelling with the Indian and Pakistani armies. Presumably, the author meant this to be no more than a quick, racy travelogue for the lay reader; rather than a serious work on the peculiar environment and dynamics that prevail along the 776 kilometre-long LoC — reputedly the world’s most heavily militarised border between that part of Jammu & Kashmir (J&K) that India controls and the part that Pakistan occupied in 1947-48. For those interested primarily in the LoC and its periodic flare-ups, the author has simultaneously produced another academic study, titled: Line on Fire: Ceasefire Violations and India-Pakistan Escalation Dynamics.
 
In this very readable travelogue, which I consumed at a sitting, the author describes with almost childlike glee how he leveraged his contacts in the Pakistan Army and diplomatic establishment — mainly retired generals and ambassadors, who he befriended over years of India-Pakistan Track II meetings — to permit a visit to the Pakistani side of the LoC. In winning their trust, Jacob has undoubtedly pulled off a coup, since nobody before or after him has persuaded both armies to allow access. For this, credit goes to Mr Jacob’s unbiased and well-regarded work on India-Pakistan relations. However, Pakistan Army decision-makers must have also cynically calculated that they would be able to sell their version more easily to an academic than to, say, a journalist or someone with practical experience of the LoC.
 
Even so, the author, to his credit, has displayed commendable savvy in assessing military situations and feeling his way to valid conclusions. Travelling to Islamabad, Murree and Muzaffarabad, and from there to forward locations along the LoC, Jacob brings out the Pakistan Army’s similarity to ours in outlook and functioning. Like the Indian Army units on the LoC, the Pakistanis prefer to focus visitor's attention on the travails of civilians living in close proximity to the border. On both sides, local villagers are experienced at underlining their difficult lives, with death or maiming a lurking spectre. Both sides insist that the other side invariably initiates ceasefire violations, leaving no choice but “appropriate retaliation”. The difference, which Jacob says the Pakistan Army never acknowledges, is that one of their key roles is ensuring militant infiltration while the Indian side mans an increasingly sophisticated surveillance system and obstacle system (the border fence) to prevent infiltration. Another key difference is the way the two sides approach the United Nations Military Observer Group in India and Pakistan (UNMOGIP). India, which rejects a UN role in Kashmir, largely ignores the UNMOGIP; Pakistan sees it as an instrument for internationalising the Kashmir dispute.
 
Mr Jacob highlights the incongruity of his position in being conducted by the Pakistan Army to positions exposed to Indian cross-LoC firing. In his words: “What if something happens to me here? What if I get shot or hit by a mortar splinter? Would they take me to the Combined Military Hospital in Rawalakot? Does my Bajaj Allianz travel insurance cover bullet injuries in Pakistan? Perhaps not. How will I travel back to Delhi with a bullet/splinter injury? What will I tell those who ask who shot me? That I was shot by the Indian Army? What will the Indian authorities tell my family back in Delhi as to what happened to me -- ‘He was shot by us while on the Pakistani side’? How will my toddler explain it when he grows up — ‘Baba was shot by Indian soldiers while in Pakistan’?”
 

Photo: Amazon.in

The author, a professor in Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), is also worried about the optics of a professor from the Left-leaning JNU (dubbed by the Right wing as “anti-national” for producing students like Kanhaiya Kumar, who dismisses their version of nationalism) visiting the Pakistani side of the LoC as a guest of the Pakistan Army. His apprehensions were stoked when, a week before he left for Pakistan, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), including Prime Minister Narendra Modi, portrayed a dinner party in New Delhi, to which the Pakistani high commissioner was invited, as a conspiracy against the BJP and Mr Modi himself.
 
Mr Jacob spends perhaps too much space recounting capital city gossip about retired Pakistani envoys and senior military officers. This is interesting for journalists and diplomats who know those individuals, but is probably of less interest to the lay reader. He is on surer ground in describing his time with the Pakistan Army, especially his visits to key generals — such as that of the divisional commander in Muzaffarabad, and the Pakistani Army’s chief of general staff, who Mr Jacob describes as second in influence to the army chief. Both of them come off as highly competent, but somewhat unimaginative, functionaries, who would execute their orders to the letter. It is a pity that Mr Jacob did not get to meet the Pakistani army chief, General Qamar Javed Bajwa. Several independent accounts have portrayed Mr Bajwa as a visionary and it would have been interesting to hear Mr Jacob’s take on him.
 
This book is, ultimately, a useful and interesting read for students of India-Pakistan relations. Hopefully, its sensitive handling of New Delhi’s and Islamabad’s concerns might help them realise that providing access to foreign scholars and writers need not be taboo and that creating a balanced awareness is an essential first step in moving towards resolving what has long seemed an irreconcilable dispute.