Devilish complexity of ties

By Inder Malhotra

It was years ago, during one of the unending crises with Pakistan, that Mr. Natwar Singh, then High Commissioner in Islamabad and later Minister of State for External Affairs in Rajiv Gandhi's Government, spoke of the ``devilish complexity'' of India-Pakistan relations. This long-forgotten remark came back to me suddenly because of the utterly incomprehensible and equally avoidable bitterness over so simple, and indeed welcome, a subject as Pakistan's humanitarian aid to the hapless victims of the subcontinent's worst earthquake in memory.

There was something deeply depressing about the apparent confusion on this matter in Pakistan. First the country's Chief Executive, Gen. Pervez Musharraf, declared angrily that India had rejected his offer of assistance to the people of Gujarat.

And then, almost immediately afterwards, his own Foreign Minister, Mr. Abdul Sattar, made a wholly contrary statement. He announced that a Pakistani aircraft, carrying blankets and tents, would leave for Ahmedabad within 24 hours, and this would not be a one-shot affair. The plane, he added, would make several sorties, which has indeed come to pass. Meanwhile, the Foreign Office in New Delhi, the Indian High Commission in Islamabad and the Prime Minister, Mr. Atal Behari Vajpayee, on a tour of the devastated areas, contradicted Gen. Musharraf's accusation categorically.

Whatever the sequence of events, the genesis of the needless squabble is rooted in entrenched mindsets. Both sides have deep distrust of each other. Neither is prepared to accept the other's claims or assertions at face value. On the contrary, both suspect a ploy or even a trap behind each other's every move. To aggravate this unhappy situation, there is on both sides of the subcontinental divide an element of what the Germans call Schedenfreude or malicious delight in the other's misfortunes. It will be instructive to look back at some other episodes in relatively calm periods because that might put into perspective the testy or tense reactions at a time when a proxy war has been on without its early end being in sight.

For instance, in the mid-Eighties when Gen. Zia-ul-Haq, the then military ruler, had launched a peace offensive vis-a-vis this country, his Foreign Minister, Sahibzada Yaqub Ali Khan, was on one of his frequent visits to New Delhi. At his usual off-the- record briefing to a select band of mediapersons, he was asked a friendly question about Pakistan's burning problem of the day, a crippling shortage of wheat that was causing acute hardship to the people. The questioner said to the Sahibzada that Pakistan was looking for costly and scarce wheat in the markets of the U.S., Argentina, Bulgaria and Australia.

The problem of transporting the available wheat to Karachi was being compounded by the fact that ships carrying a whole array of cargo were chocking the port. Why didn't Pakistan pick up India's abundant surplus of wheat at lower prices and carry it to Lahore by rail or road in a matter of hours?

The Sahibzada, an extraordinarily suave individual and accomplished diplomat, let the question hang in the air for a full minute and then said: ``What you say makes sound sense. But the problem is that the people back home are bound to say hum in kambakhton ka khana nahin khaynge (we will not eat the food of these wretches).''

This was clearly of a piece with what used to happen during the years when Bangladesh was still the eastern wing of Pakistan. The Pakistani rulers, based in the west, insisted on buying East Pakistan's requirements of coal from Poland and South Africa at three times the price at which the coalmines of Bihar and West Bengal were willing to deliver coal to Dhaka.

It is possible indeed probable, the Gen. Musharraf was convinced that India, in its moment of tragedy, was likely to behave exactly as Pakistan would have had the situation been reverse. But as it happened, this was not so.

To say this is not to deny that there are many in this country, including politicians and officials, who might have been reluctant to accept Pakistani aid. But the Government having reversed its policy on foreign assistance during natural disasters for all countries, wisely decided not to make an exception in the case of Pakistan.

The trouble seems to have arisen because Pakistan misread the procedure followed with every country that had offered aid. Each offer was weighed according to needs and the country concerned told that some goods and services other than the ones on offer would be more suitable.

Thus it was that while the Pakistani offer to send sniffer dogs was under discussion, the required number of such dogs arrived from Switzerland.

The message from New Delhi to Islamabad was: ``We would be back to you very soon.'' The request to send blankets and tents was conveyed quickly enough. But by then Gen. Musharraf had spoken out.

A visiting Pakistani friend I discussed this melancholy matter with was pithy in his comment. ``Please, believe me. The lack of coordination between the Chief Executive's office and our Foreign Ministry is as appalling as that between your PMO and the South Block.''

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