A seeker of the unvarnished truth

KASHMIR was rocked by a series of avalanches in February 2005. Intezamia pleas to villagers living on the lower Pir Panjal slopes to shift to school halls/polyclinics had largely fallen on deaf ears. Consequently, hundreds of villagers and animals perished.

Then PM Manmohan Singh, Home Minister Shivraj Patil and Congress president Sonia Gandhi landed at the snow-cleared Srinagar airstrip on February 28 to get a first-hand report. As the officiating Corps Commander, I was tasked with briefing the PM. The Corps Commander, Lt Gen Nirbhay Sharma, who was on leave, had called me up that sleet-laden morning from his Delhi home: “He has specifically asked for an Army briefing. Apprise him of the ground reality and what needs to be done.”

Sometimes, challenges become opportunities and give you a chance to fly. For a while, I became Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the eponymous protagonist of Richard Bach’s famous book.

I did not perceive the PM as a sartorially impeccable, calm politician. He came across as a seeker of the unvarnished truth about the enormity of the loss, and he wanted to know my suggestions. I spoke uninterrupted for 30 minutes; my words needed no aids as I had already visited the affected areas. I told him about the natural disaster in painstaking detail — how the western disturbances had swamped south Kashmir to create an Armageddon-like scenario. He listened quietly.

On February 18, villagers had died in their sleep during a snowstorm at Waltengu Nar-Nagin Pora — a bunch of villages in Qazigund block of Kulgam district. The official death toll was 278, including 24 security personnel who had died during the rescue operation. Over 260 people were reported missing.

The Army, including Rashtriya Rifles troops deployed in the hinterland, were aided by mountain search and rescue teams from Gulmarg’s High Altitude Warfare School, paramilitary forces, the General Reserve Engineer Force, Indo-Tibetan Border Police, police and civil volunteers; sniffer dogs were also pressed into service. They dug through deep snow to rescue 445 people. Forty-five foreigners and 4,500 villagers were evacuated. Around 12,000 houses were damaged. The IAF evacuated about 15,000 stranded passengers. Army and IAF helicopters dropped bakarkhani and cooked food packets to stranded villagers and 300-odd trapped passengers in the Jawahar Tunnel. The Northern Army Commander ordered the immediate release of kerosene and cooking gas cylinders from the reserves.

I ended by saying: “Sir, we pulled out nine survivors from an outhouse in a village and also recovered nine AK-47 rifles.”

PM Manmohan Singh stood up and we shook hands. I fondly remember that handshake as my memory takes flight — like the iconic Seagull — and goes back to that day in calamity-torn Kashmir two decades ago.

Musings