by Anil Jaggia
In Delhi, there was little coordination within the government. The disunited colours of coalition politics were becoming obvious. There was a proliferation of government spokesmen who only compounded the problems for the PM. Vajpayee kept himself abreast of the situation and was busy talking to his Cabinet colleagues, while Jaswant Singh and Home Minister Advani camped at CMG and shuttled between Rajiv Gandhi Bhavan and Race Course Road. In the evening, S.S. Barnala, the Akali Dal leader announced that Lashakar-e-Toiba may be involved in the hijacking. The news spread like wildfire and an embarrassed Jaswant Singh denied that the government had any inkling of the group being involved.
That same evening, the Prime Minister convened a meeting of the Cabinet Committee on Security. Here, again, the discussion threw up two distinct divisions in thinking: L.K. Advani, Prabhat Kumar and Brajesh Mishra took the stance that a negotiating team should be sent at the earliest; the Intelligence chiefs, however, thought it better to wait before taking a decision in haste. External Affairs Minister Jaswant Singh also favoured this view. It was suggested that India should seek the necessary permission from Pakistan for flying through its airspace with a relief plane, if required.
While the stormy discussion was continuing, a message came from the control room at Rajiv Gandhi Bhavan. It had received a fax at 7.30 p.m. sent by the Kandahar ATC. It was immediately rushed to the CMG.
The fax was the first message from the hijackers to the Indian government and it spelled out their requirement for the governments of the countries of the various nationalities on board to begin negotiations. “The Taliban wants to emphasise that we want to disassociate ourselves with this hijacking and would want an early end to it ...” the note from Kandahar ATC began.
This was followed by a demand for the release of Maulana Masood Azhar.
If it was at all possible, the atmosphere at the CMG became more tense. The government was now faced with what it had been dreading. Maulana Masood Azhar of the Harkut-ul-Mujahideen, Islamic ideologue and revered guru of the militant groups in Kashmir, was the security forces' prize catch.
Earlier, the Civil Aviation Secretary confirmed to the media that the hijackers had broken their silence and that their demand was under examination. The long hours of uncertainty were now over and there was something concrete to move on, with possibly, the hope of some dialogue with the hijackers. In the bleak atmosphere, this was the only ray of hope in the CMG meeting room.
A sharp sense of discomfiture filled the room as the Intelligence agencies revealed that if the initial reports were true, the group behind the hijacking was known for its brutality. Maulana Masood Azhar had entered India on a fake Portuguese passport and galvanised many terrorist groups. His real job was to unite the disparate militant factions in Kashmir, and he had formed the Harkat-ul-Ansar by merging together the Harkat-ul-Mujahideen and the Harkat-ul-Jehadi Islami.
Since Azhar had been imprisoned, he had continued to be a source of trouble. In June 1994, the Harkat-ul-Ansar had kidnapped two British citizens, David Mackie and Kim Housego from Pahalgam and demanded the release of Azhar. A second attempt had been made when the group rechristened itself AI Faran, kidnapped six foreign tourists and demanded Azhar’s release. His release had also been sought by the government of Pakistan.
IB Director Shyamal Dutta was still at the CMG, but his men were working faster than ‘real time’ to piece together the information provided by the released hostages. Unfortunately, the ATC control room at Indira Gandhi International Airport had its task cut out for itself in trying to pierce through the Pushto language barrier at Kandahar.
New Delhi knew it was time to establish direct contact with the Taliban as yesterday’s rogues graduated to business partners, no matter how unwillingly. There were feelers from the UN offering active help in the crisis. Even the Taliban appeared agreeable to that. But New Delhi feared that UN involvement might signal its tacit approval for third party intervention in Kashmir, which the hijackers were bound to raise.
The CMG was informed that the Taliban officials were in touch with the UN and had given an ultimatum that unless an Indian representative was sent by the morning of December 27, they would let the aircraft go. Clearly, the Taliban was playing its own version of the negotiating game and had plotted all moves in an orchestrated manner. While it had announced to the world that the hijackers would blow up the plane if their demands were not met, on the ground the Taliban Civil Aviation Minister, Mullah Akhtar Mansur was initiating communication with the hijackers at Kandahar airport. Though it had faxed New Delhi that it had nothing to do with the hijackers, it had also approached the UN with the promise of assistance with the negotiations.
New Delhi was unconvinced and believed overwhelmingly in the Taliban’s active connivance in the hijacking. Yet, the CMG and the government decided to keep quiet about their suspicions lest the passengers be harmed. Intelligence agencies now indicated that the pattern of the hijacking and the route taken by the aircraft soon after it was hijacked, indicated that the hijackers may have wanted to take the aircraft directly to Kandahar, and that would not have been possible without the tacit support of the Taliban regime.
Lalit Mansingh and Naresh Chandra were in constant touch with India’s Permanent Representative to the UN, Kamalesh Sharma. Keen to avoid active UN intervention, New Delhi told Sharma to look for a strategically sound option and to try and persuade the UN to help India establish a direct channel of communication and provide help on humanitarian grounds. The Afghans were to be asked to supply food and other essentials to the aircraft and ensure that the hostages were not harmed. After consultations, Sharma informed New Delhi that the designated official for the coordination of humanitarian affairs, Eric de Mul was in Islamabad and had been asked to be on standby to reach Kandahar. De Mul would assess the situation and then take his own team to Kandahar. Indian High Commissioner in Islamabad G. Parthasarthy was also asked to establish contact with de Mul.
Even as the Crisis Management Group was trying to come to terms with opening a channel of communication with the Taliban and the hijackers, there were clear political overtones that seemed to.be on the minds of the powers-that-be who wanted to turn the hijacking to yet another opportunity to tip the balance of the political fulcrum in their favour. Prime Minister Vajpayee declared that the government would not buckle under acts of terrorism; the hijacking, he added, had “brought home with its full impact the horror of terrorism”. He exhorted the people to “face the terrorist challenge with determination and self-confidence”. It seemed nothing short of a political speech.
But as time ticked away, the thought uppermost in most minds was: Would the government agree to the deal?
* * *
Kandahar
UN coordinator Eric de Mul reached Kandahar from Islamabad to assess the situation and soon initiated talks with the Taliban. He was told to report back to the UN Headquarters in New York and await further instructions. The CMG members found that out from TV This was soon confirmed by the ATC control room that was in touch with Kandahar ATC. The officials heaved a sigh of relief “Thank God, some civilised channel has been opened,” said one official. The footage of a UN aircraft arriving in Kandahar, and de Mul arriving and talking with Taliban officials shown on most TV channels, helped to reassure the worried relatives of those on board the hijacked carrier.
Reports from Kandahar that the UN representative had pressed for better conditions on board the aircraft was also cause for some satisfaction. However, New Delhi remained in a fix about sending an Indian diplomat to Kandahar, while government representatives from France, Canada, Japan, Switzerland and Belgium had already arrived at the outpost.
Eric de Mul was no new face to the Taliban: he spoke direcdy with the hijackers. He listened as Red Cap told him tales of terror unleashed by the security forces in Kashmir, how innocent youth were being nabbed and tortured, and women raped. De Mul was unmoved and kept his calm. He told the hijackers that he would inform the Indian officials about th
eir concerns, and then asked them to release the women, children and the sick. Though this was turned down, his persistence paid off when they agreed to release a diabetic patient, Anil Khurana, who had been feeling uneasy for a long time. Khurana was escorted out by Taliban soldiers and brought to the terminal building for medical help.
* * *
On board IC 814
While the UN team was conferring among itself, Red Cap summoned Sharan and I to the cockpit and talked to us about the atrocities of the Indian paramilitary forces in Kashmir. “The beards of the elderly Muslims were pulled so hard, they came off in the soldiers’ hands. Their nails were pulled out with pliers. Our elders were asked to urinate in each others’ mouths. Our sisters and sisters-in-law were raped as many as 27 times.” The hijackers were becoming quite emotional and had tears in their eyes.
Sharan and I pretended to be as moved as him and were able to summon a few tears too. “Such things, if true, should not happen in our country,” I said. We were then sent back to the cabin.
Before the deadline ended we were again summoned to the cockpit. The hijackers said there was a message from the UN. Captain Sharan took the radio and was told that French diplomats were flying in shortly, and that diplomats from other countries were due soon. After consulting with the hijackers, Captain Sharan addressed the passengers and conveyed these developments to them.
Later in the day when one of the hijackers opened one of the doors (1L) by mistake, the emergency escape slide-chute was activated. As a result, the door would remain open until the emergency escape slide-chute was detached. Though we were happy that some fresh air was coming in (the air inside had begun to smell foul), and we could see what was happening outside, our joy was short-lived. The Taliban engineer came and cut off the slide-chute, dislodged it and closed the door.
Some time after that I was again called to the cockpit and informed that engineers had arrived from Kabul to examine the aircraft and run the maintenance check. I was asked to help them in their work.
I went down through the avionics bay to where the new arrivals—ten of them—were standing. We discussed the various problems. I told them about the need for the correct engine oil, and they suggested mixing the oil they had brought with what we had. I refused: “That isn’t possible,” I said, “it could lead to the engines being damaged.” The correct engine oil could only be obtained from Delhi or Mumbai. Then there was the matter of the aircraft’s tyres. Not all of them were in good shape and I insisted that they had to be changed.
The chief engineer enquired about the wings. I told him that this aircraft hand taken off from Lahore and Al-Minhad with a take-off weight far in excess of the prescribed maximum take-off weight. Now the aircraft required a thorough maintenance check as per our schedule. He said he had already inspected them and found nothing wrong with them.
I clarified that to inspect the wing route joints, the panels had to be removed.
“But that’s a major job—it’ll take a long time to do that,” he objected.
I said that was what I had been trying to tell the hijackers all the while. I also wanted the refuelling problem sorted out. The Afghans said that either the dumping valve had been shut or the circuit breakers had been pulled out.
I apprised them that these were perfectly all right.
Upon inspection of the fuel tankers, the Afghans came up with a stunning statement: “Sir, there is sufficient fuel in your aircraft. Only the gauges are defective.”
I was stunned. I said the aircraft had flown a four-hour journey from Dubai to Kandahar. “How can there be fuel inside the aircraft?”
But they insisted that the tanks were full.
This was unbelievable. After the previous day’s incident of spillage of fuel by the Taliban engineer, here were ten engineers saying the Airbus tanks were full.
One of them now stepped forward and said: “I have refuelled every type of aircraft in the world—Russian and German, English and French. Let me refuel it.” He too went through the futile exercise but proved as unsuccessful at the task.
They next asked what I would do to find out the aircraft’s fuel position if the gauges were not working.
“You tell me, you are engineers,” I taunted them.
One of them, a foreman, said he would open the overhead refuelling cap and check it. But he could not find the overhead refuelling point. Another said he would check with the dripstick. This was, in fact, done. Only then did they agree that the wing tanks were empty and apologised for having doubted my judgement. By this time, the Kabul engineers had again wasted a lot of fuel in their zeal to refuel the aircraft. I could see a huge pool of fuel extending about 200 metres from the parked aircraft. Frighteningly so, this could have terrible implications if someone threw a lighted cigarette or matchstick in that direction. It would mean our certain death!
As evening approached, the temperature turned biting cold. Kandahar has a very strange climate, as we were to discover for ourselves. It becomes very hot by noon, and at night it gets very cold. The barren landscape with no vegetation in sight, and no people other than the Taliban, was bleak. The airport itself is a picture of decrepitude. It has no emergency facilities. The injured and sick passengers who were rushed to the medical facility in the airport soon came back complaining about the squalor and the unhygienic conditions there. The airport’s drinking water facility is poor and its toilets awful. On board the aircraft too, the toilets had not been cleaned and were getting choked. The odour was permeating the aircraft. In fact, the aircraft doors had to be opened for a few minutes to let the awful stench out.
Late in the evening, while some passengers were asleep, the hijackers started pacing up and down the aisles. They collected the cameras and removed all films inside them. They opened one or two doors to check on any movement outside. They announced over the hand-held mike that all of us in the cabin should put our heads down. Some of the passengers were even blindfolded. Gunshots were heard in the distance. Suddenly over the public address system, a voice was heard: “Bismillah . . .” Later, some passengers seated near the aisles were to report having seen, from the corner of their eyes, a man with a long beard who looked like a typical Taliban official. Complete silence reigned over the cabin. In the rear, some of the hostages were slapped by the hijackers for being fidgety. Shankar, who had terrorised the hostages earlier, was now perspiring. Was it out of fear and nervousness? Had the aircraft been visited by some senior person who controlled the hijackers? If so, who was he? Visibly, from the sudden tension in the hijacker, he certainly was someone they dreaded. Passengers would later speculate whether this, in fact, had been Osama bin Laden himself!
At around 12.30 at night, I was woken by Shankar and asked to accompany him to the cockpit. The temperature in the cockpit had shot up and I was told, “Chief saheb wants you to adjust it.”
In the cockpit, as I proceeded to adjust the temperature control, Red Cap, who was playing with his gun and sitting in the Captain’s seat, said: “Never mind the temperature, please get our bags from the luggage hold.” “Now? Can’t you wait till morning?”
“No, we want the bags now.”
To defy our captors’ orders in a hostile territory was not wise: I had no option but to cooperate as required. I looked out of the cockpit window and noticed an air force aircraft and some equipment and other vehicles parked on the off side in front us. The Taliban guards were warming themselves around fires at various places. The temperature gauge in the cockpit showed the outside temperature as -5° C.
Red Cap politely reminded me of the task he had set me.
The cockpit floor hatch opening into the avionics bay was already open. Burger led the way to the ground down the small aluminium ladder of the aircraft. The chill penetrated my bones as I was clad in only my uniform. Burger, who held a revolver in his hand, reached Shankar who was already there, holding a dagger in one hand and a revolver in the other. The familiar sight of the Taliban soldiers and Kabul engineers confronted us.
When we reached the holds, I pointed towards the front cargo hold which I thought would not contain the passengers’ luggage. It was my way of delaying whatever they had in mind. The hijackers asked me to open the door, but I said that would require special luggage handling equipment without which I, at least, couldn’t do it. At this, some of the Afghan engineers said they would be able to manage it, and I was asked to move aside while they tried their ‘expertise’—naturally to no avail.
A stepladder was brought and the front cargo hold was opened. I told Shankar and Burger to go inside. Burger retorted, “Smart, eh! What are you planning?”
I kept silent. One technician and Shankar went inside. I remained outside in the bitter cold for over 30 minutes with Burger. Shankar returned, not having found their baggage. They then manage to open the rear hold. Shankar went in and was able to find one of the bags and brought it down. It was white and shaped like a golf bag. Whatever it contained, they took good care to ensure that I had no clue about its contents.
Shankar and Burger began to discuss where the second bag may be. Shankar went into the hold again to search for it, but returned disappointed.
I heard some gunshots. A Taliban engineer sensing my consternation reassured me that they were not from the aircraft, but from outside.
Another engineer on the tarmac told me that a Taliban engineer had confirmed that everything in the cockpit was in working order. I asked him how he knew this. There was silence on his side.
It was now around 2.00 a.m. The airport authorities had sent a water tanker to fill the aircraft’s water tank, but because the hosepipe of the tanker was a little larger than the aircraft’s inlet, and the very strong pressure with which the water flowed, I got caught in the overflow and was completely drenched. Seeing me shiver, Burger took off his jacket and offered it to me. I refused to wear it. Burger again said, “Please wear it, it’s very cold and you are all wet. You’ll fall sick.” I refused again.
Burger insisted: “You are like my father. He’s also stubborn like you. Now, please wear this.”