IC 814 Hijacked

by Anil Jaggia

  Jaswant Singh told Katju to keep the hijackers engaged while he consulted with the Prime Minister. At a meeting at the Prime Ministers residence, Singh joined the PM, Prabhat Kumar, Brajesh Mishra, IB Director Shyamal Dutta, and RAW chief A. S. Dulat.

  Intelligence agencies presented dossiers on the hostages, and an overview of the situation on the ground. The dossiers indicated that most of the people on board the hijacked airliner were the single bread-winners of their families and belonged to the middle class. Many of them were on their first trip abroad, and were small-time traders. If the hijackers were to do something foolhardy, it could spark off a major public outcry and even lead to communal riots. The PM heard them all with rapt attention. He knew he was making one of the most important decisions of his government. Just a few days ago, the government had taken a hardline approach and had refused to release any militants, but the situation now demanded more flexibility. He discussed the repercussions of releasing the terrorists on the situation in Kashmir— earlier, the three service chiefs had warned against the release of the terrorists as the morale of the forces would suffer a blow.

  In a meeting with the Prime Minister, Jammu and Kashmir Chief Minister Farooq Abdullah had told the PM that releasing the militants would send the wrong signals, and would make the targets for militants more vulnerable. Abdullah was only too conscious of the last time a trade-off was done after the daughter of Union Minister Mufti Mohammed Sayeed was kidnapped and released in return for some militants.

  Though the discussions continued, the Prime Minister seemed to have already made up his mind. He gave his nod: the three militants would be released in exchange for the safety of the passengers,

  Jaswant Singh spoke to Katju and told him the PM had given the go-ahead, and that he could finalise the deal.

  The arrangement was clinched. Ajit Doval told the hijackers that the government had agreed to their demand, and that the three militants could be expected in Kandahar by the evening of the 31st.

  * * *

  On board IC 814

  The last day of 1999 didn’t begin too well. At about 3.30 a.m. the APU packed up, the lights went off. Inside the cabin the temperature started dropping, and there were no blankets to pass around. I was asked to try and contact Kandahar ATC for help, but the ATC was not responding. Much later, when it came on the line, our request for batteries fell on deaf ears. Nobody seemed to have batteries for our Airbus in a city bristling to the brim with military hardware. I asked to speak to the Indian Airlines relief aircraft. Unfortunately, they did not have a full set, just a single battery, that too partially charged. I asked them to send that over, but was informed even that would take some time.

  All this time, the only illumination in the aircraft was coming from the torches the hijackers had borrowed from me and some of the passengers. As a concession, we were allowed to open every fourth cabin window shutter.

  But the situation continued to worsen: there was no water, no food, no fruit, even no beer for the children.

  However the passengers were not cribbing. They were expecting to go home, and that was all they were looking forward to.

  * * *

  New Delhi

  The last day of the millennium paved the way for the release of the passengers, yet, the officials kept their fingers crossed— after all, the hijackers had earlier gone back on a deal. In the morning, Vajpayee himself spoke to President K.R. Narayanan and informed him of the government’s decision. Farooq Abdullah was also told to get the papers of Azhar and Mushtaq Zargar lodged in Kot Bhalwal jail in Jammu and Srinagar Central Jail respectively. The RAW chief was told to go to Jammu jail himself and get the militants, while the third militant, Ahmed Omar Sheikh, was to be brought from Delhi’s Tihar jail. It was early morning but the PM’s residence was a beehive of activity as a Cabinet meeting was called in the morning to get the formal nod from the government. Delhi’s Lt. Governor, Vijai Kapur was called and told that the government had decided to release Sheikh, and that arrangements should be made for his release.

  Prime Minister Vajpayee himself spoke to some Opposition leaders and informed them that they had credible reports that the hijackers had plans to blow up the plane. At a meeting of the Cabinet Committee on Security, it was decided that Jaswant Singh would go to Kandahar along with the three militants to ensure a smooth hand-over, and to bring the hostages back.

  Zargar and Azhar were brought in by a special plane, after Farooq Abdullah had been persuaded to let them go by the RAW chief. Abdullah had been opposed to the exchange from the beginning. Mushtaq Ahmed Zargar and Ahmed Sheikh were both connected to Harkat-ul-Ansar. Zargar was a dreaded terrorist and was especially notorious for his cruelty towards security forces in Kashmir. He had brutally tortured and killed many policemen and paramilitary personnel in the state. It took Dulat and the state Governor G.C. Saxena, a former RAW chief, some time to convince Abdullah and sanction their release orders.

  Ahmed Omar Sheikh alias Rohit Sharma, a British national, was to have charges framed against him on January 13 for abducting four foreign tourists, Rhys Curzel Partridge, Paul Benjamin Rideout, Christopher Miles Crosten and an American, Bela Joseph Nuss from Connaught Place in 1994. Instead, a team of intelligence and senior police officials secured the release order to free him from Delhi’s Tihar jail. All movements were kept a closely guarded secret.

  In the Cabinet meeting, there were some who opposed Jaswant Singh going to Kandahar, but the PM brushed the suggestion aside saying that it was necessary. No one was told why it was necessary.

  Meanwhile at Rajiv Gandhi Bhavan, there was a sense of relief amongst the staff working day and night to keep the CMG going amidst cups of black coffee, fruits and sandwiches. The middle-rung officials manning the CMG now knew that they would be able to spend the New Year’s eve with their families. At South Block, there had been hectic activity since the morning. Foreign Secretary Lalit Mansingh had communicated to the Ambassadors of the countries whose nationals were on board, that a deal had been clinched and the passengers would soon be back. Ever since, envoys had been streaming in from Japan, Australia, France, Belgium, Canada and other countries. The MEA’s control room set up for the crisis shut shop

  even before Singh left for Kandahar, and the Additional Secretary in-charge packed his bags for the millennium celebrations at Khajuraho.

  At the PMO, Vajpayee’s men, knew that even the release of one militant would dilute the government’s macho image created during the Kargil war. Yet, the PM’s public relations men prepared for the grand tamasha in the evening. The speech writer weighed the pros and cons of the speech to be delivered by the PM on national TV.

  Jaswant Singh was getting ready for his first brush with the leaders of the regime he had recently sought to baptise, and he knew that by going there personally, he was also investing in the future. He spoke twice to the Foreign Secretary and ascertained that all was fine at South Block. The two released militants were expected to arrive in Delhi from Jammu in the afternoon. It was decided to take very few officials to Kandahar besides the security and intelligence sleuths. Singh reached the Palam technical area a little early and was in constant touch with Katju on his Satphone. The aircraft was delayed for a while, as some plainclothes commandos and security personnel were made to board it inside the hangar before it arrived on the tarmac. The three militants were shifted from the vehicles and boarded the aircraft from the rear door, accompanied by security personnel. Singh’s Satphone rang constantly as impatient calls from Kandahar kept questioning the delay. At 3.00 p.m. the rescue flight took off for Kandahar. Singh wanted only one assurance from the Taliban—that they would not give political asylum to the hijackers or the freed militants. As the plane took off, he knew the victory lap hadn’t quite turned out the way it ought to have.

  * * *

  On board IC 814

  Nothing happened in the morning, not even till as late as 10:30 a.m. Some of the passengers said that the hijackers had made a fool of us. Captain S
haran then got up and went into the cockpit and requested Red Cap’s permission to be allowed to speak to the Indian delegation to verify for himself if an aircraft with the released terrorists was indeed to be on its way. Rather surprisingly, Red Cap agreed, and the Indian delegation confirmed the news. Captain Sharan passed on the news to the passengers.

  The passengers had been subdued all these days, but now seemed to be getting into a festive mood. A few exchanged mementos. Some tried to play matchmakers: the Japanese lady was found just “right” for one of the Nepali passengers on board!

  In hushed tones, some of them even started to sing.

  But Sharan, Rajinder and I were subdued. We knew how easily the situation could see-saw.

  At about 3.00 p.m. Burger came out of the cockpit and addressed the passengers. He apologised for the hijack and the agony they had been forced to bear. He bid them goodbye. He even asked them to pray for his safe journey.

  As he walked down the aisle exchanging pleasantries with the passengers, he came up beside me in seat 25B. “I’m sorry for causing you any trauma,” he said sincerely.

  “I hope you won’t cause so much trouble to so many people again.”

  “That’s exactly what my father used to say,” he said ruefully.

  “It’s all the more reason you shouldn’t do something like this again,” I reiterated. And then added, “After you’ve finished everything, come back to me. I have a gift for you.” you.

  He came back soon after 3.30 p.m. “Sir,” he said respectfully, “I’m ready to receive my gift.”

  I don’t know what he was expecting, but he seemed bemused at the red Eveready torch I placed in his palm.

  “Why this torch?” he asked, turning it around in his hand.

  “This light will guide you to the correct path,” I said.

  Burger thanked me and carried it away with him, but returned soon after. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but the chief is not permitting us to take any gifts from the hostages.”

  At 4.30 p.m. Shankar came and said that the chief wanted me. I let out a long sigh. Now what? What did he want? No refuelling was to be done, the APU was unserviceable since the morning. So, what was his game?

  “This is our last request. Get us our bag from the luggage hold,” Red Cap said.

  So this was it.

  “But I don’t have baggage handlers here,” I said.

  “There are more people on the ground now. I am sure you can get it out of the hold if you take help from them. Besides, if any harm comes to the aircraft or to the passengers because of our bag, we won’t be responsible. We are duly conveying this to you to pass on to your airline.”

  It was a frightening prospect being left aboard the aircraft with a bag in the hold that could only contain explosives. I was led down by Shankar to locate the bag.

  But though the hold was opened, we could not locate it. It proved to be a fruitless search.

  Around 5.30 p.m. an Indian Airlines Boeing touched down on the runway at Kandahar. A cavalcade of jeeps with armed Taliban surrounded the new arrival. Some of the jeeps came and stopped near our aircraft. Did they think the Boeing was carrying Indian commandos? At that time, I was still searching for the missing bag in the hold.

  A Taliban security person asked me to stay out of sight, though I was allowed to watch the proceedings. I saw that Red Cap had come down. Burger too descended and saluted him. Then Shankar, Doctor and Bhola followed. Red Cap, Doctor and Bhola went first in a jeep, and Shankar and Burger followed in another vehicle. My last glimpse of our captors was of them speeding down the taxi track.

  I ran back inside the aircraft to inform the officials about the hijackers’ bag and to make sure that it was recovered before it could cause any damage.

  Fifteen minutes later, on a signal from the Taliban, the hostages held in captivity for eight days, were allowed out of flight IC 814, bringing an end to their ordeal. We had already been warned by the security personnel to avoid any public show of affection until we were inside the two relief aircrafts. We were asked not to touch women passengers; the women were told to step out of the aircraft with their heads covered. As everyone walked out for the first time from the aircraft after having spent what seemed like a lifetime in confinement, we were speechless but happy.

  * * *

  Kandahar

  At the airport, the Taliban had already ensured its own PR exercise. When Singh’s flight arrived on the tarmac, there was no formal reception. The three militants descended from the aircraft and were escorted into a car. The five masked hijackers drove away in a Taliban Pajero with the three hostages, taking with them Taliban security personnel to ensure their safe passage. For External Affairs Minister, Jaswant Singh, it was one of the worst receptions he had ever received, but he knew he had to rise above it and take back the hostages without any hitches.

  For half an hour Singh reasoned with Muttawakil and Information Minister Abdul Hia that the hijackers should not be allowed to go free. “They have already killed one passenger, and have committed a crime under international law, and you should uphold the international law. Please apprehend them and try them in Afghanistan, but you can’t just let them go,” he argued. However, the Taliban was determined to let them go. “We told your delegation that the government of India will have to abide by what we agree with the hijackers, and you had agreed. Now we can’t go back on it . . . we don’t want any bloodshed here, and we can’t apprehend them,” they told Singh pointblank.

  With all the doors slammed in his face, Singh knew he was cornered and for once, the thought of the Taliban clearly being on the side of the hijackers filled his mind. To make matters worse, the Taliban also presented him with a bill of $25,000 per day for the parked aircraft, besides a heavy bill for catering and other expenses. Singh told them that it would be settled by India through Taliban’s representative in Islamabad or New York, to which they agreed. Singh thanked them and walked out with a sense of disgust, let down by a regime he had been painting as cooperative and nice.

  The disembarking passengers were separated into different buses and escorted to the two Indian aircrafts standing on the tarmac. The first was an Indian Airlines Airbus A320, the second which had brought Jaswant Singh and the three militants was an Alliance aircraft Boeing 737. For passenger Sanjeev Sharma, brother-in-law of the diabetic patient Anil Khurana, it is a moment he will never forget. “We had been away from our familes and felt the closest we have been to God.” The announcement over the public address system that the relief aircraft from India had arrived was received by cheering, clapping and screeming. “You are now free,” said the chief hijacker. Within moments they had disembarked and gone. “It was true—we were really free.”

  Jaswant Singh, in fact, greeted all the passengers personally. He asked them if there was anything he could do for them. Most murmured their thanks, grateful of their escape from a deadly confinement. But Dr Anita Joshi, who says she is short tempered, wasn’t as easily shaken off. “What were you waiting for these eight long days?” she challenged him. “Did you want to give our bodies to our families?”

  Jaswant Singh had no answer.

  Dr Joshi had reason to be disturbed. She was returning from an international conference on female entrepreneurs in Kathmandu and like most of her co-passengers, found it difficult to believe that the flight had been hijacked. She also had a stomach-ache. “Though it was still very tense 20-25 minutes after the hijack, I put up my hand and told a hijacker I needed to go to a toilet. He said nobody was being allowed to go to the toilets, but I could have a paracetamol. When I told him I was a doctor, and a paracetamol was used only for pains and fevers, he quietly allowed me to go to the toilet.”

  Later, when the aircraft had landed (at Lahore), Dr Joshi was summoned by the hijackers to the executive class cabin to attend to the two stabbed passengers. “As soon as Satnam saw me, he started pleading for water. The hijackers gave him some water.” She dressed Satnam Singh and Rupin Katyal. “Rupin was only hal
f-conscious, and I had only Burnol and dressing (bandage) with which to treat him. I shouted at the hijackers, asking them why they had done this. Seeing me so agitated, one of the hijackers asked me whether he would die. I said he needed immediate hospitalisation, and the hijacker said they would try to arrange it.”

  Dr Joshi was asked to attend to Katyal once more, before the aircraft landed at Al-Minhad. “I asked the hijackers then, ‘Are you Pakistanis?’ ‘No,’ they had replied, ‘we’re Indian Kashmiris.’ ”

  After the injured were offloaded at Al-Minhad, the executive class cabin had been used as a dispensary. “Maut samne khadi thi (Death stared us in our face),” she recollects, but she and the other doctors were hard pressed to attend to the sick on board—patients with diabetes, high blood pressure, depression. But what she had seen of Katyal, and the fate of his widowed-bride who had not been informed of her husband’s death, was more than she could bear. Dr Anita Joshi had a nervous breakdown. “I shouted at the hijackers, ‘Shoot me! Go ahead, shoot me!’ ”

  The hijackers had assured her that they would not need to shoot anyone, least of all women and children. They even asked her to accompany cancer patient S. Brara to the local hospital, “but when I saw the atmosphere outside from the cockpit, I decided it was safer to stay inside the aircraft.”

  Dr Joshi, at least, was kept busy, but most of her male passengers turned out to be weak: “I saw for the first time in my life that men were so weak and could cry so much.” No wonder she could hardly wait to attack Jaswant Singh who represented the face of the Indian government to her.

  Three months after the episode, she says: “I have so many letters from my co-passengers thanking me for all that I and the other doctors did for them, but the government has still not written even a letter of appreciation.”

  * * *

  Flanked by Taliban Foreign Minister Muttawakil and Information Minister Abdul Hia, Jaswant Singh was taken to a press conference where he acknowledged the supportive role played by the Taliban, and stated that they had not offered political asylum to the hijackers. Muttawakil said the Taliban had given the hijackers and the freed militants ten hours to leave Kandahar. Before leaving for Delhi, Abdul Hia passed on a note to Jaswant Singh that said the hijackers and released militants seemed headed for Quetta.