Friday, August 13, 2010

The Forgotten War

There is a forgotten chapter in India’s modern history: the unique distinction of being a nation at war from both the allied and axis camps of World War II. This is the story of the people and the times we almost completely forget as a nation.

I was astounded to read that during the war, 2,500,000 men from British India (modern day India, Pakistan and Bangladesh) formed the largest volunteer army in the history of mankind, a fact that most of the world ignores. Amidst Gandhi’s “Quit India” and Congress’ Civil Disobedience, 2.5 million Indians took up arms to protect the democracy of Britain; the values of humanity they were told were at risk. These brave men fought across 3 continents, into territories and countries they hadn’t even heard of, risking their lives for a cause which was not their freedom. In return they got a 1/10th of pay of a British soldier, rug-sacks and rotten rations, horrid living conditions and worst of all ignorance, hatred and a sense of denial from their very own people.

Like most of us who have read about the turbulent phase of WWII, it fascinates me how the world’s powers struggled just a little over 60 years ago from the capitals of Europe to unknown uninhabited islands in the Pacific; from the deserts of Africa to the jungles of south-east Asia. In mankind’s ugliest hour, it truly must have been a test of what you are and what you stood for. But, in these large volumes of battles and bloody victories there is a place where the victors lost.

Year 2010: In a day and age where competition is everything, whether in our classrooms, offices or board rooms the only aim is to edge out and get credit and acknowledgement for the slightest, smallest things we do, I am intrigued by the story of these men. How does it feel to go discredited for life even when fighting for the right cause? What cause is worthy enough of a life and who decides history, not necessarily the victors at least in this case! Through these pages, I wish to salute the men and women who sacrificed their lives in a victory they believed in and the credit that they never got for it.

World War II: British Indian Army

When Britain declared war on India’s behalf (September, 1939), men volunteered and flocked the recruiting stations. Men perhaps my age or even younger, from villages in Punjab to Madras, from the Bengals to Baluchistan, ‘Jawans’ who were Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs and Christians from every caste and every backdrop formed this force. Winston Churchill had a deep distrust of the Indians and the British loathed them until the Battle of Dunkirk where The Indian Soldier rose to prominence for the first time since 1857 as the remarkable Gurkhas depicted unparalleled valor in the mayhem of British retreat. Subsequent deployments proved the prowess of these men on the field.

Libya and Egypt Theatre (1940-41): The first land victory of the WWII for the allies came when a 5-to-1 out-numbered Indian army defeated the Italians in the middle of the Saharan Desert. Imagine, fighting on a foreign soil for the cause of ‘the empire’. In a 2 year period, this Indian Army takes into custody 290,000 Italians as POWs and captures the whole of Italian East Africa (AOI).

South-east Asia (1941-45): Victory in Africa came with defeat in south-east Asia. The Japanese Army was a much more sophisticated war machine than one would imagine, after all it was the country that had the guts and will power to attack America and wage a battle for 7 years in which every inch of land on even the remotest of islands was fought for with blood. Sweeping across China and Vietnam, the Japanese Army swiftly cut across Malaya and Singapore which were defended by the British Indian Army.

The unexpected loss and retreat in Singapore caused 90,000 men to be taken as Japanese POW of which 2/3 were Indians. And here comes the most captivating part of the story, once captured these Jawans were separated from their British officers and given a choice: join the fledgling Indian National Army(INA) led by Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose and fight for ‘India’s Independence’ along with the Axis powers or rot in the diseased POW camps. The Japanese were notorious for using POWs for target practice and bayonet training. 20,000 men broke and joined the INA.

The INA Story: Contradiction like most things in India underlines this story as well. The INA was initially formed by Capt. Mohan Singh and recruited along with the 20,000 POWs, ethnic Indians from Malaya and Burma. The cause was just – ‘Liberation of India’ through an armed struggle however Mohan Singh fell out with the Japanese as he felt that he INA would be a puppet army.

The flavor touch of a nationalist force comes in the story with Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose escaping house arrest and fleeing to Germany to meet Hitler. The Germans too had a contingent of Indian POWs and Bose created and Indian ‘legion’ there. Bose then tried the Japanese who, disgruntled with Mohan Singh, were happy to hand him over the charge of the INA. There is no question about Netaji’s integrity as a patriot. He had seen Gandhi’s policies and a divided Congress-Muslim league in India and was disgruntled by the whole approach towards liberation that the Indian political movement envisaged. Netaji wanted India’s liberation at any cost and he believed that an armed struggle would make the British Empire in India fall like a house of cards.

Under Netaji’s command and supplies & support from the Japanese, the INA began its march towards Delhi and ‘Chalo Dilli’ was born.aji, the iconic schoolbook photo)

The surge of militant-nationalism was perceived in Delhi and in London. Churchill offered post-war Independence to India in return of continued support in WWII and India agreed. At this juncture, I think what Netaji would have come across would have been a déjà-vu of patriots of an earlier age, India’s first war of independence (1857) that also saw Indians fighting for Indians against Indians under the British.

This is what led to points in the war when Indian soldiers came face to face with each other, in the hills of Burma and Malaysia, speaking and shouting in their own mother tongues while carrying the arms for foreign nations on a pseudo national cause. The INA and Japanese troops reached the gates of Kohima, Nagaland when the falling and faltering lines of British Indian Army finally pounced on them and began the liberation of East Asia towards the very end of the war.

Think of these men, men of two Indian Armies. Who/What were they fighting for?

The End Game:

All this while as WWII raged, India at home was at a purely different saga. A nation is turmoil, eager to break the shackles of centuries of foreign domination wanting independence at any cost. In this charged nationalist atmosphere everybody collaborating with British, everything British was designated traitor. Protests, agitations and revolt must have filled the air in the final years before ’47.

Indian soldiers fighting for the British were seen as no exception in the list of traitors. On their return many were caught on the streets and roughed up, incidents have been recorded where mobs of nationalists ransacked the village homes and properties of these men. The soldiers on their return never wore their uniforms in public, never narrated the stories in fear of the anti-British sentiment.

On the other hand there was widespread sympathy for Bose’s defeated INA and to this day India honors the ranks of this organization. INA troops were given a hero’s welcome when they returned at the end of war and in independent India were beneficiaries of all schemes and pensions for the freedom fighters.

In an ugly contradiction of history, those who fought and prevailed were not victors instead became a national embarrassment, collaborators and a social-pariah and were never credited as much as the INA.

In all, India lost 87,000 men on the battlefields of World War II in 3 continents but this often overlooked chapter in history made me realize that the story of India’s independence is as ironical as India herself!

Sunday, February 21, 2010

O Sitaram!



The Men's Saloon is almost a mystic wonderland amidst the jungle of urban life in India. One of his last hide-outs, a man can truly relax and let-go of everything in this most unassuming adobe of tranquility. Men in the west may hit the sports-bars or join friends for a beer.Men in India are still more accustomed to the regal treatment at the local barbers'. Read the paper or magazines, discuss at length over politics or cricket-matches or local issues. Express yourself as the trained hands service the head and shoulders making click-clack sounds from bones you never knew even existed, lay back on a cushioned seat closing your eyes while the soft smell of talcum lingers in the air and there are brush-strokes of the most perfumed of shaving creme sweeping your face.

From the staunchest stubborns to aristocrats and elites... observe closely and you can see everyone unwind to their true honest selves in a little saloon. The fabled Indian Barber, the know-all social pundit still survives in some by-lane around the busy market street. I know of such a place, The Milan Saloon.... hairdressers serving 3 generations of my family (perhaps the only constant between these three generations :)). Sitaram, the proprietor is a master and guru at this fine art of (Indian) coiffures. I remember going there and getting my hair-cut done on my Grandpa's lap and for precisely a million other reasons I would visit this one shop every time I can do so in Jaipur. With his ever-growing team of apprentices and staff Milan glass door entrance is filled with banter, chatter and the light-hearted good natured spirit of men.

Welcome to the West, I don't wish to sound archaic but its actually weird to have a girl sit next to you at the barber's and as if this is the least of the inhibitions that affect you there are a million bottles of hair-serum and hair-dryers and tools and accessories of every kind with possibly more colour shades to choose from than on a Berger Paint's colour-sampler! I entered the reasonably hep Barber's Shop at the Reitz Union commercial center at UF (for those of you who're wondering, Yes... I still do have to visit the Barber's every few weeks and the dead tissues we embrace upon our skulls haven't eluded me completely as yet ).

A middle-aged woman who I assumed was a customer led me to a middle-aged man who was the barber. The middle-aged woman then went ahead trimming the golden-brown locks from a golden-brown haired girl's head. As I was trying to look-at-her without letting her know that I was looking-at-her I realized she could see me look-at-her in the mirror!

Anyways, the barber swung into action as the chair with some unknown configurational controls lifted, rotated, inclined me to an angle best suited for the middle-aged barber! As he started talking specifics about the operation at hand, I was thinking how to tell him small-but-not-too-small.

As scissor-hands clasped in the air the operation was underway! To my surprise, the middle-aged barber even triggered a conversation regarding departments and college studies which I tried support till our voices were subdued by the 'do you want me to leave the golden side up or do you want me to try the rollers' kind of a conversation from the next seat.

And I just sat there, sunk into this half robotic chair and murmured O Sitaram ji! I wish I was at Milan's.