Life Among the Scorpions

by Jaya Jaitly

  My father actually facilitated the final draft by allowing the Japanese to draft it themselves. As described by the same Japanese drafters, this was a gesture of ‘extraordinary friendly consideration’. The select clauses of the treaty were:

  •to co-operate in the promotion of common welfare and to maintain international peace and security,

  •to waive all claims to the properties, rights and interests of Japan or her nationals,

  •to employ negotiation and arbitration with respect to any dispute arising out of interpretation or application of the Treaty, and

  •to accord a most-favoured-nation treatment with respect to customs duties in connection with important and exportation of goods.

  After reading the paper, I spent two days at the National Archives of India at Janpath in Delhi searching through voluminous registers containing the indices of the material housed in it. Under the Foreign Affairs lists, I identified more than a dozen documents from those that were listed, including communications from my father from Japan during those years. I submitted my requisition slips and waited for the files to be exhumed. A few days later, I was told that these documents could not be found and had probably not been transferred from the Ministry of External Affairs. I listed them out in a letter and asked the Ministry to let me have a look at them. The informal reply I received said they were not traceable and must have been sent to the National Archives. I was back to where I started. I was surprised to note the Government of India’s lack of concern for its own recorded history—lost in a bureaucratic runaround—while the Japanese meticulously explored that period in the diplomatic history of their country.

  The story in Hiroshi Sato’s paper has an important footnote that made clear to me, quite unexpectedly after fifty years, why we went to Burma after two years in Tokyo. In a paragraph following the heading ‘Reparation and Burmese linkage’, Sato explores how India and Burma maintained close links in the reparation issue with the help of recently declassified information from diplomatic records on Burma. He writes,

  One interesting fact was that Mr. Chettur, who was the main participant in the negotiation during IJPT talks, was transferred to Burma in June 1952 after the conclusion of the IJPT. And he maintained close relations, not only with Japan’s foreign officials in Rangoon, but with Japanese foreign office delegation headed by Eiji Wajima, Director of Asian Division with whom Chettur had negotiated in Tokyo. Chettur suggested to Weijima that Japan should proceed with its own plan of reparation, as Burmese administration was neither competent nor prepared enough with good homework on their own12. Chettur’s report must have been valuable enough for Japanese officials to force a breakthrough in the Burmese reparation talks. Japan could almost force their terms for the settlement of reparation demands by Burmese government. (p. 7)

  Sato further writes:

  It eventually facilitated the Philippines and Indonesia to take similar compromised stand on reparation demand. We cannot emphasize too much that it was in the agreement with Burma that Japan first succeeded in broadening the scope of reparation to include comprehensive “economic co-operation”. “Economic co-operation” successfully mollified the stigma attached to “reparation” and it was under this new flag that Japan could progressively reconstruct her economic relations with former colonies and occupied countries in South east Asia. (p. 7)

  One of the important aspects of India-Japan relations was that India chose to take a line independent of the one taken by the Allied powers. What was also significant was that my father was expected by the Indian government to continue from Rangoon the work he began with the Japanese in Tokyo. The aim was to extricate Japan from the position of underdog without fear of being overwhelmed by the possibility of Japan’s economic resurgence.

  ~

  Documents are certainly not easy to come by. In a country where routine but important and declassified material is treated casually but policemen arrest people for possessing material easily available on the Internet for contravening the Official Secrets Act, anything of historical importance that comes into one’s hands is a treasure. If it concerns one’s own family, it becomes a matter of serendipity. There are papers containing information about the handling of treasures of the Indian National Army of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose in which I found notes and quotes ascribed to my father during his tenure in Japan. What is particularly significant about these notes is the propensity of government servants, even at that time, to loot official property and use it to make their own lives more comfortable. It also demonstrates another aspect of how little such people value history. The contents of the document give an insight into this through my father’s words as quoted in a letter from R.D. Sathe in the Indian Liaison Mission at Tokyo to the prime minister of India in 1951.

  According to the document, considerable quantities of treasures were given to Subhas Chandra Bose by Indians in the Far East as part of their war effort. While he carried a part of these treasures with him in his ill-fated flight from Saigon to Tokyo, the remaining were left in Saigon. According to photo-static [sic] copies of the documents, the following treasures are reported to have eventually reached Tokyo: ‘pure gold in two wooden boxes and paper wrapper’ weighing ‘7 kg 900 grms’; a packet of gold mixed molten iron, weighing 3 kg 100 gms; in addition ‘Mr SA Ayer* handed over Y. 20,000/-.’ Mr Sathe continued:

  The above treasures were handed over in Tokyo to one Mr Ramamurthy. Mr Ramamurthy [was] on several occasions questioned by the representatives of the Government of India regarding [the] treasures and it was only recently that he admitted that the treasures were in his possession.

  Mr Iyer recently visited Japan with the ostensible purpose of investigating the present position in regard to the treasure. Mr Iyer’s activities in Japan have been rather suspicious.

  And Mr KK Chettur’s views regarding this are as follows:

  “It appears that Netaji had with him in Saigon substantial quantity of gold ornaments and precious stones, but that he was allowed to carry only two suitcases on the ill-fated flight. These two suitcases must have carried very much more than has now been handed over to us, and even if allowances are made for the loss of the part of the treasures when the plane crashed, it seems obvious that what was retrieved was substantially very much more than has now been in our possession. What is still more important is that the bulk of the treasures were left in Saigon and it is significant from information that is available that on the 26th January, 1945, Netaji’s collection weighed more than himself. In this context you will notice that Iyer came to Tokyo subsequently from Saigon and that his statement at that time was that ‘the gold was intact as I have brought it from Saigon, … cash is the balance after changing Piastras into Yens and meeting my expenses during my stay in Japan since August 22nd 1945’. There is a party here who has seen the boxes in Iyer’s room and who was also to buy off the contents of these few boxes. What happened to these boxes is a mystery as all that we have got from Iyer is 300 gms of gold and about 260 rupees gold worth of cash. You will no doubt draw your own conclusion from all this, but to me it would appear as if Iyer, apprehensive of the early conclusion of the Peace Treaty came to Tokyo to divide the loot and to salve his and Murthy’s conscience by handing over a small quantity to Government in the hope that by doing so he would also succeed in drawing a red herring across the trail.”

  After quoting this pithy description by my father of the murky goings on concerning the treasures belonging to Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose, Sathe adds his own conclusion to corroborate what my father had said: ‘Suspicion regarding the improper disposal of treasure is thickened by the comparative affluence in 1946 of Mr Ramamurthy when all other Indian nationals in Tokyo were suffering the greatest hardships. Another fact which suggests that the treasures were improperly disposed of is the sudden blossoming out into an Oriental Cargo export of Col Figges, the Military Attache of the British Mission in Tokyo, and the reported invitation extended by the Colonel to Ramamurthy to settle down in the UK.’r />
  The letter signed by R.D. Sathe on 1.11.1951 was initialled by ‘J.Nehru’ on 5.11.1951 with no comment at all. It is decidedly strange that such important and historic material should be treated so lightly and its fate, unknown. In 1978, Subramaniam Swamy charged the same J. Nehru with accusations of melting down Netaji’s gold for his personal needs and demanded a full-fledged inquiry. The files are still secret, the fate of the treasures unknown, and, at the very least, the corruption involved in someone misappropriating some of the treasures was completely ignored by the same J. Nehru.

  Theories that Nehru wanted to obliterate the importance of Netaji, that Netaji did not die because there was in fact no air crash at all, that Netaji lived as an ascetic in Uttar Pradesh for many years and that the Government of India hushed all this up, was the subject of an enquiry by a commission headed by retired Supreme Court Judge Justice Manoj Mukherjee. There too, there are many classified documents that have not been made available, and many questions that lie unanswered. When eventually, the commission brought out its findings, the Manmohan Singh government disagreed with them. This raised doubts about Netaji’s death and there are many, who, after the release of some classified papers in 2016, have been demanding declassification of all the papers concerning him. I was one of the public who demanded this since it concerned my father. It made me very proud that a story in India Today* at that time referred to my father as the first whistle-blower of free India.

  ~

  These incidents, covering a span of many decades, revealed to me the strong moral and humanitarian positions my parents took whether they were in India or a foreign country. It also brought home to me the fact that truth is a crucial ingredient to understand history.

  As for my love for Japan, it keeps returning. Once in a while, a television company from Japan comes to India and does an interview with me, and I am able to reiterate my old links and loves.

  *The American PX is the Army and Air Force Exchange Service, retailer of US Army and Air Force installations.

  *See The Unknown Craftsman: Japanese Insight into Beauty, Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1989.

  *Iyer is also spelt as Ayer in some other sources.

  *Sandeep Unnithan, ‘Who Shrunk Netaji’s Fortune?’, 14 May 2015, India Today, http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/netaji-subash-chandra-bose-wealth-lost/1/438113.html

  5

  BURMA TO MYANMAR

  Engaging in Transitions

  IN 1952, MY FATHER REACHED Rangoon before us. My mother and I arrived only after visiting all our relatives in Madras, Trichur, Ernakulam and Kollengode. We prayed at all the big temples there so that the next posting would be blessed with success, and life would be safe and smooth. My mother needed some time with family, and conversations with all her sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts and family friends before isolation would conquer her life again.

  Rangoon felt like India with its crowded, dirty bazaars, high-decibel conversations, rickshaws and brown-skinned people. Except for the green paddy fields, it was a world away from Japan despite the influence of Buddhism. In Japan, the people were introverted, courteous, genteel and slowly succumbing culturally and materially to the domination of the USA following the Second World War. In Rangoon, human interaction was noisy and often violent. In Japan, the women were soft-spoken and self-effacing but in the crowded marketplaces of Rangoon, women smoked fat cheroots and were in control of their lives. They wore delicate, transparent aengyis with beautiful lacy bodices underneath, and opened and retied their lungis vigorously when their anger rose in the midst of a fight about space, prices or the unholy practices of their competitors—all this amidst the overwhelming smell of durian, a fruit that was sold in every market. It looked like our own jackfruit but was unbearable to approach. I fell instead, for Burmese kawswe, a spicy dish of noodle and meat cooked in a soup to which a fiery paste of red chillies, onion and garlic is added. In the end, there is also gram flour and coconut milk till the whole broth thickens somewhat. Kawswe has at least ten garnishes to sprinkle on for varied extra flavours—lime, fried onions, raw onions, fried garlic, green chillies in vinegar, red chilly powder, coconut bits, prawn balchow, shredded fresh coriander, crumbled hard-boiled eggs and dried fish so that each soup can be garnished according to a palate. For me, it was a smooth transition from the daily bowls of osoba (or Soba, a noodle soup) in Tokyo. In fact, the difference between Japan and Burma was at first simply like the difference between osoba and kawswe. One was subtle and lightly flavoured while the other was thick, fiery and intense.

  The Indian Embassy house appeared to be even bigger than the one in Tokyo. It was a majestic double-storeyed white building that looked a bit like a half of the Western Court on Janpath in Delhi. The main rooms downstairs were large enough for ballroom dancing, medal-distribution ceremonies or banquets, and a staircase descended to the front hall the way you see in houses in movies about great aristocratic families. We had a ‘mug’ cook from Chittagong, which was then in East Pakistan, who cooked in a kitchen which was set apart from the main house and was connected by a long open verandah. My father, mother and I looked lost sitting at one end of a dining table that could seat twenty-four people. I usually preferred to eat in the way one would snack, in one of the smaller lounges while playing with friends or doing my homework.

  U Nu was the prime minister of Burma during the period we were posted there (and after a brief interregnum, again from 1960 to 1962 when General Ne Win staged a coup and put U Nu in prison). He was a soft-spoken, ever-smiling, gracious man who provided the gentle healing touch that Burma needed after the assassination of their popular hero, General Aung San in 1947. He headed the Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League, and after independence became, like Nehru in India, his country’s first prime minister. As a close friend and compatriot of General Aung San, he was highly respected. Later, with Ne Win consolidating his grip over a vast network of commercial interests linked to military colleagues, U Nu was unable to fight back. He left Burma and stayed for many years in Varanasi in India, and finally went back to Burma to take up the quiet, meditative ways of a Buddhist monk.

  Speaking of General Aung San’ death, it feels right to bring forth here the occasional visits of his widow and daughter Suu Kyi, to my mother whose generous and spontaneous bearing offered them a much-needed comfort given the trauma they had suffered. The mothers developed a warm relationship which continued later in the 1970s when Mrs Aung San was posted to Delhi as Burma’s Ambassador to India. She spent several hours chatting warmly at my mother’s house in Sujan Singh Park, and gave her a beautiful silk lungi which I still have with me. Suu was a quiet, young girl in the background, but this old link came alive in a totally unexpected way after she led the pro-democracy demonstrations in August of 1988.

  In India, 1988–89 was a period of political transition. The sheen of the young, handsome, computer-loving Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi was fast dissipating in the controversy over the purchase of the Bofors guns from Sweden. His finance minister, V.P. Singh, had jumped ship and was attracting various elements of the opposition who encouraged him to challenge Rajiv Gandhi’s integrity and credibility, and take over leadership. Given such a scenario, India was too busy to bother about what was happening in Burma.

  The National Front government headed by V.P. Singh came to power in 1989. Singh replaced Rajiv Gandhi, but was succeeded eighteen months later (in 1990) by Chandra Shekhar, who too had a short-lived spell as prime minister. Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated in May 1991. India’s political scene finally acquired stability for the period under the Congress government headed by P.V. Narasimha Rao.

  In 1991, George Fernandes was a mere Janata Dal MP. However, he continued to live at the same residence (3, Krishna Menon Marg) which he was allotted as senior Parliamentarian and Minister of Railways in 1989, during the V.P. Singh government. One day after the May 1991 general elections, a group of fresh-faced but dishevelled young men came to his residence to meet him. They were refugees who had fled Bur
ma after the military refused to accept the overwhelming verdict in favour of Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD), and cracked down on the protestors. Suu Kyi was under house arrest. These pro-democracy activists were terrified that the Indian police would pick them up and send them back to sure death or incarceration in Burma. ‘They will have to pick me up first before they will be allowed to do anything to you,’ declared George Fernandes without a second thought. He walked into my office and announced that arrangements should be made to help them set up the All Burma Students’ League.

  I became ‘Aunty Jaya’ to all of them and helped them settle in. The young boys and girls, including truly dedicated ones like Kyaw Kyaw Htut, Shar Aung, Thin Thin Aye, Ma Thieu and others spent hours in discussing organization, the meaning of democracy, whether multinational corporations operating in Burma could help the development of the country while collaborating with a military dictatorship, ways of earning money through political and community programmes and organizing processions protesting military oppression in Burma. Noticeable among them for his sheer dedication and maturity was Soe Myint. But he had a serious court case against him for hijacking an Indian Airlines plane flying to Calcutta on 10 November 1990, which became almost intractable because of stringent international laws against hijacking in those days. It took almost ten years to extract him from the Kolkata High Court and persuade the government not to appeal or try too hard to look for witnesses who were not forthcoming. Soe Myint had merely held his fingers out like a revolver and covered them with a handkerchief, so it could not be considered a real act of terrorism. He had only intended to draw attention to the plight of Aung San Suu Kyi who was under house arrest in Rangoon.

  Subsequently, Soe Myint wrote a book called Burma File: A Question of Democracy in 2003*, which was released by George Fernandes. During that book-release event, Soe Myint remarked that it was probably the first occasion in history that a defence minister of a country was releasing the book of a hijacker.