Thursday 29 June 2017

WHAT WAS GOOD ABOUT THE GOOD OLD DAYS ?





What is this that invariably happens to us as we get older? Why do we start talking about the better atmosphere, the better morals and the better humans we had when we were young? I refute this theory on two counts, the first and the most important is I hate referring my youth in past tense – I am young. My mind says so and I believe my mind more than anyone else. My ideas and ambitions have not deserted me yet, my quest for the unknown remains alive and my thirst for the new remains un-quenched. The second is I do not think the days gone by were better than today and I am convinced that tomorrow and the day after will be even better.


When you talk about ‘good old days’, what was exactly good about them? What was "good" about polio, small pox, the cold war with nuclear attack drills, the Vietnam  or Indo-China war, racial segregation and gender discrimination, Indira and Rajiv’s assassination, paisley print Guru Kurtas, polyester leisure suits, disco, LP records, black and white TV, manual typewriters, exorbitantly costly calculators, and computers the size of high school gyms?  I like the modernity and things are going to be better and prettier! And friends, you haven’t seen anything yet!


I never complain about the younger generation, except perhaps their choice of music! After my generation has given the world Osama Bin Laden and AlQuida, Prabhakaran and LTTE, serial-killer and cannibal Jeffery Dahmer, Waco whacko David Koresh, O.J. (Outwitting Justice) Simpson, Mumbai blast masterminds Dawood Ibrahim and the Kashmiri terrorist Masood Azhar, the younger generation can hardly do worse.


The present generation of performers in every field is outperforming their predecessors. You can compare anything from games to medicine. The current European football champions will beat even the best of yesteryear hands down if a computerized version of the game is played. The present cricket team of India is the best so far. Whether it is Sachin Tendulkar or Mark Phelps or Usain Bolt's all their records will also be broken in future. The current plastic surgeons replant fingers so routinely which about fifteen years back was a domain of a few Indian surgeons. So let us now draw some parameters and seriously compare whether we are truly better than our forefathers.


There is no doubt about the fact that global conditions are changing, but are they changing for the better, or for the worse? Surprisingly, when a survey was done on this topic not many even in the developed world felt that we are doing better! In response to a question "All things considered, do you think the world is getting better or worse, or neither getting better nor worse?" in Sweden, 10% thought that things are getting better, in the US this dropped down to 6%, and in Germany this decreased even further to 4%. In other words, not a lot of people think that the world is getting better.


That was a survey of the developed world and it is quite naturally expected that in developing countries the dissatisfaction with the present would be far more……but is it so? The survey must take into account the history of global living conditions; the history of everybody. So let us take five global parameters poverty, literacy, health, freedom, and education and objectively analyze how they have changed over the last two centuries.


Poverty:
Let our lifetime not be a restricting factor for evaluating the timeline but let us go back in history. The world is not static, it has been ever changing. When civilization had established its roots in India, China and Egypt, today’s developed world was nomadic and barbaric. Rich countries today were very poor in the past and were in fact a lot worse off than the poor countries of today's world.  In fact, to avoid looking at the world in a static way we have to go back 200 years before the period when living conditions changed dramatically. Before the British occupation India was rich and prosperous but the systematic loot by the forces of occupation, the ruthless tax system that destroyed the agriculture and the industry and the inhuman trade restrictions that crippled the overseas business and trade left India a pauper in 1947, when finally the Union Jack came down. Today after seventy years India is the fastest growing economy once again.

Poverty, according to researchers, is living with less than $1.90 per day. In 1950, 75% of the world was living in extreme poverty; in 1981 it dropped to 44%. Latest research suggests that extreme poverty is now below 10%. You would have thought that with world population continuously rising this would lead to more extreme poverty, but the fact of the matter is that the opposite has happened. In a time of continuous population growth, our world has managed to give prosperity to more people and lift them out of extreme poverty.


Literacy:
Only a small number of elite were able to read and write at the beginning of the 19th century. In fact, in 1820, only 1 person in 10 was literate; in 1930 it was every 1 in 3 and now 85% of the world is literate.  Yes, pockets of illiteracy are still there in the developing world, but their size is shrinking all the time. Technology, particularly in the last three decades, has changed the scenario totally but there is no doubt that a lot needs to be done.


Health:
In 1800, the living conditions of our ancestors were so bad that 43% of the world's newborns died before they turned 5. Nowadays, the child mortality rate is down to 4.3% - 100 times lower than 2 centuries ago. This is thanks to vast advancements in modern medicine, science, housing, sanitation and diets. Epidemics like plague and cholera were rampant once but are almost unheard of today. India has been Polio free for almost a decade and our neighbors too are striving for the same.   


Freedom:
Not so long ago the sun never set on the British Empire, and if we are to believe Shashi Tharoor, the author of ‘An Era of Darkness’, a testament of the British misrule of India, that was because the plundering British could not be trusted even in daylight! Throughout the 19th century, more than a third of the world's population lived under colonial regimes and everyone else lived under autocratic rule. The first expansion of political freedom (from the late 19th up until the time of World War II) was crushed by the rise of authoritarian regimes. However, during the second half of the 20th century, the world changed dramatically; the Colonial Empires ended, and more and more countries started to turn towards democracy. Now, every second person in the world lives under democratic rule.


Education:
None of the progress that the world has seen would have been possible without an exponential explosion of education and knowledge. Education has an add on effect and not only are those once educated stay educated but they inspire and educate others. The International Institute for Applied Systems Analysis (IIASA) is an international scientific institute that conducts research into the critical issues of global environmental, economic, technological, and social change that we face in the twenty-first century. This Institute predicts that by 2100, there will be only a very small percentage of people without formal education, and there will be more than 7 billion people with at least secondary education.


As we can now appreciate, our global living conditions are improving - slowly, but surely and the statistics of these five parameters prove it with a lot of conviction. We can most certainly look forward to a brighter future than the ‘good old days’ there is no room for doom and gloom. But then again, are we missing something? With forests disappearing, polar ice melting and rivers drying out is a much larger disaster just round the corner? How many humans, the most destructive species on earth, can this world hold? Are we thinking along these lines?


For the time being I will continue to be addicted to books and magazines as long as I have eyes to read or ears for someone to read them to me. (Maybe by my 100th. birthday, they'll finally perfect audio/video e-books!) And I never want to lose my child-like wonder for DNA and PSLVs. I would know everything about all the keys of my laptop and all the wonders of my son’s play station, and the functions of my Samsung mobile phone for I think these are the ultimate challenges yet to be conquered.


So, yes the olden days were good, but nothing worth bragging about; today  is fantastic and the days to come would be even better. The only lurking doubt that I have is with our uninhibited use of natural resources will the world we live in give us a signal well in time by continuously blinking the recharge button!

Thursday 8 June 2017

A HILL CALLED MELROSE






This is a story which came in one of my Facebook post and which I had to share with you all. I am not the author, Dr. Yashwant Thorat is. I do not know the good doctor, but I have read about his father the brave soldier Lt. Genl. S.P.P. Thorat KC DSO and his bravery in the jungles of Burma, now Myanmar. I am sure you will enjoy this.

"May I have a light?" I looked up to see a Japanese – more or less my age – with an unlit cigarette in his hand. I reached for my lighter. He lit up. We were on a train travelling from Berne to Geneva in the autumn of 1980. “Indian?” he asked. “Yes” I replied. We got talking.  He was an official in the UN and was returning to home and headquarters at Geneva. I was scheduled to lecture at the university. We chit-chatted for a while; he gave me some useful tips on what to see and where to eat in the city. Then, having exhausted the store of ‘safely tradable information’, we fell silent.  I retrieved my book – ‘Defeat into Victory’, an account of the Second World War in Burma by Field Marshal William Slim. He opened the newspaper. We travelled in silence. After a while he asked “Are you a professor of Military History?” “No” I replied- “just interested. My father was in Burma during the war”. “Mine too” he said.

In December 1941, Japan invaded Burma and opened the longest land campaign of the entire war for Britain. There were two reasons for the Japanese invasion. First, cutting the overland supply route to China via the Burma Road would deprive Chiang Kai Sheik’s Nationalist Chinese armies of military equipment and pave the way for the conquest of China. Second, possession of Burma would position them at the doorway to India, where they believed a general insurrection would be triggered against the British once their troops established themselves within reach of Calcutta. Entering Burma from Thailand, the Japanese quickly captured Rangoon in 1942, cut off the Burma Road at source and deprived the Chinese of their only convenient supply base and port of entry. Winning battle after battle, they forced theallied forces to retreat into India. The situation was bleak. The British were heavily committed to the war in Europe and lacked the resources and organisation to recapture Burma. However, by1943 they got their act together. The High Command was overhauled; Wavell was replaced by Mountbatten and operational control was given to General William Slim, a brilliant officer. Slim imbued his men with a new spirit, rebuilt morale and forged the famous 14th Army, an efficient combat force made up of British, Indians and Africans. The Japanese, aware that the defenders were gathering strength, resolved to end the campaign with a bold thrust into India and a simultaneous attack in the Arakan in Burma.

In the ebb and flow of these large events chronicled in Military History, my father, a soldier, played a part – first in Kohima in clearing the Japanese from the Naga Hills, then in Imphal and finally in the deeply forested mountains of Arakan. Destiny took him there. In the blinding rain of the monsoons in 1943, the Supreme Allied Commander’s plane landed at Maugdow where the All-India Brigade of which his regiment was a part was headquartered. Mountbatten was accompanied by his Chief of Staff, Lt. Gen. Browning, who had been my father’s Adjutant at the Royal Military College in Sandhurst. He and the two other Indian commanders – Thimayya and Sen - were introduced to Mountbatten who made casual but searching enquiries regarding their war experience. Thereafter he was closeted in the ‘conference tent’ with the senior commanders for a long time. As they came out he turned to Reggie Hutton, the Brigade commander and said, “All right Reggie let your All-Indian Brigade do it. But, by God, it is going to be tough”. Then turning to the three of them he said, “Gentlemen, the Japanese are pulling out of upper Burma. You have been selected to intercept their withdrawal from there into the South. You will concentrate at Akyab, proceed to Myebon by sea, capture Kangaw, penetrate Japanese-held territory and convert the Japanese retreat into a rout. Is that clear?” It was.

My Japanese friend who had been listening intently leaned forward and asked “Did you say your father was in the All India Brigade?” “Yes”, I replied. Our conversation paused for a while as the waiter served coffee and croissants. Later, picking up the threads he persisted “Was he a junior officer at the time?” “Not really” I replied. “He was a Battalion commander”. He digested the information and said “Which regiment?” “The Punjab Regiment” I replied. His face turned colour. Maybe it was a play of light and shade or maybe it was just my imagination but I thought he was going to be ill. “Are you okay?” I queried? He nodded. “Please carry on”.

After marching through hostile territory, the brigade finally landed at Myebon.  Their dis-embarkation was not opposed.  They proceeded to Kangaw little knowing that forty-eight hours later they would be locked in a battle which was to last for a fortnight and claim the lives of three thousand men.

Mountbatten had been right.  The withdrawal route of the Japanese was dominated by ‘Hill Feature 170; Melrose. It was firmly held by the Japanese and gave them the enormous    advantage of having the ‘commanding heights’. Worse, intelligence reported that they had two brigades. The Indians had one.  Brigadier Hutton realised that if the withdrawal had to be cut, the hills would have to be captured irrespective of the numerical disadvantage. He took the call. The first attack by the Hyderabadis under Thimayya mauled the enemy but did not achieve the objective. The second by the Baluchis under Sen met a similar fate. It was then that ‘Reggie’ asked the Punjabis to make a final effort. Artillery and air support was coordinated.  The zero hour for the attack was set at 0700 hours on 29 January 1944. At dawn as the leading companies moved forward, the Japanese opened machine gun fire. The Artillery provided cover and laid out a smoke screen. The Punjabis began to climb the hill. Safe from amongst well dug bunkers the Japanese rained fire on them.  The Indian casualties mounted as men began to drop. The air cover which was a key part of the plan failed to materialise - bad weather and bad luck. Taking a calculated risk, the commander pushed on. They were hardly a hundred yards from the top when the Japanese threw everything they had at them. In the face of such unrestrained fierceness, the advance faltered hovering uncertainly on the edge of stopping. For the commander, it was the moment of truth – to fight or flee? As he saw his men being mowed down by machine gun fire a rage erupted within him. Throwing caution to the winds he ran forward to be with them. The scales ‘tipped’. The troops rallied, ‘fixed bayonets’ and charged into the Japanese with obscenities and primeval war cries. A fierce hand to hand combat ensued. Neither side took or gave a quarter. The Japanese fought like tigers at bay. The conflict went on unabated through the night. The Japanese counter-attacked in wave after wave but the Indian line held firm. Then the last bullet was fired and there was silence.

Many years later Mountbatten would describe what took place as “The bloodiest battle of the Arakan” and correctly so. The price of victory was two thousand Japanese and eight hundred Indians dead in the course of a single encounter. Fifty officers and men would win awards for gallantry. The battalion commander would be decorated with the DSO for ‘unflinching devotion to duty and personal bravery’.  But all that was to happen in the future.

At that particular moment on the field of battle, the commander was looking at the Japanese soldiers who had been taken prisoners of war. They had assembled as soldiers do, neatly and in order. On seeing the Indian Colonel, their commander called his men to attention, stepped forward, saluted, unbuckled his sword, held it in both hands and bowed. The Indian was surprised to see that his face was streaked with tears. He understood the pain of defeat but why the tears? After all, this was war. One or the other side had to lose. How could the Japanese explain to the Indian that the tears were not of grief but of shame? How could he make him understand what it meant to be a Samurai? Given a choice he himself would have preferred the nobler course of Hara Keri than surrender. But fate had willed otherwise. The ancestral sword in his hands had been carried with pride by his forefathers. Now he was shaming them by handing it over. All this was unknown – unknowable - to the Indian commander. He came from a different culture and had no knowledge of what was going on in the mind of his adversary. Yet there was something in the manner and bearing of the officer in front of him which touched him deeply. He found himself moved. Without being told he somehow intuited that the moment on hand was not merely solemn but personal and deeply sacred. He accepted the sword and then inexplicably, impelled by an emotion which perhaps only a soldier can feel for a worthy opponent, bent forward and said clearly and loudly in the hearing of all “Colonel I accept the surrender but I receive your sword not as a token of defeat but as a gift from one soldier to another”. The Japanese least expecting this response looked up startled. The light bouncing from the tears on his cheeks, reflected an unspoken gratitude for the Indian’s remark. Coming as it did from the heart, it had touched his men and redeemed their – and his – honour. The Punjabis – Hindus and Muslims - who had gathered around also nodded in appreciation. Battle was battle. When it was on, they had fought each other with all their strength. And now that it was over there was no personal or national animosity. Maybe the Gods who look after soldiers are different from those who look after other mortals for they bind them in strange webs of understanding and common codes of honour no matter which flags they fly.

The moment passed. He looked at the Signal Officer and nodded. The success signal was fired. Far away in the jungles below, Brigadier Reggie Hutton looked at the three red lights in the sky and smiled. His faith in his commanders had been vindicated. He would later explain that at stake that night was not only the battle objective but the larger issue as to whether Indians ‘had it in them’ to lead men in war. There had been sceptics who felt that his faith was misplaced. He looked at Melrose and smiled. Its capture had vindicated his faith.

I looked out of the window lost in my thoughts. Suddenly I heard a sob to find that my Japanese friend had broken down. He swayed from side to side. His eyes were closed and it was clear that he was in the grip of an emotion more powerful than himself. He kept saying ‘karma, karma’ and talking to himself in his own language. After a while he looked up with eyes full of tears and holding both my hands said in a voice choked with emotion, “It was my father who gave battle to yours on Melrose. It was he who surrendered. Had your father not understood the depth of his feelings, he would have come back and died of shame. But in accepting our ancestral sword in the manner that he did, he restored honour to our family and my father to me. That makes us brothers – you and I.

The train pulled into Geneva station. We got down. What had to be said had already been spoken. He bowed. Goodbye I said. Keep in touch. Incidentally, would you like me to restore the sword back to your family. He smiled, looked at me and said “Certainly not. The sword already rests in the house of a Samurai”.

That was the last I saw of him.

Usha tells me that the probability of our meeting defies statistics. She should know. She studied economics and statistics. There was a World war going on. Good. My father was in the Indian army; his father was in the Japanese army; perfectly okay. They fought in the same theatre of war – Burma; understandable. They fought in the same battle; difficult but believable. The war finished, they went back to their families; plausible. But that their sons grew up in two different lands, happened to go to Berne at the same time, board the same train, get into the same compartment, share coffee and cigarettes, have a conversation on something that had happened four decades ago, discover their fathers had fought on opposite sides in the same battle – that undoubtedly is insane.

Personally, I do not believe that there are outcomes in life which are necessarily bound to happen?Yet, sometimes I am not so sure. You can never connect events by looking into the future; you can only connect them by looking at the past. Maybe it is comforting to believe that because the dots connect backward, they will connect forward also. I don’t know. Perhaps in the end, you have to trust in something.  The sword has a pride of place in our home. Whenever I see it, my mind goes back to the jungles of Arakan where in the midst of the madness of war, two soldiers were able to touch each other and their compatriots with lasting humanity

By Dr Yashwant Thorat, son of Lt Gen SPP Thorat KC DSO.