| Normally, an India-Pakistan skirmish on the Line of Control
makes as much news as a power cut. Militants coming over the high passes often fight the
army, cross-border shelling is routine, and so is death. But this time a Pakistani attempt
to send in hundreds of invaders over the frigid heights of Kargil has escalated into one
of India's most intense domestic military operations. The
conflict has become so severe that air strikes were called up and two air force MiGs were
downed, the first air force battle casualties since 1971. At the best of times, India and
Pakistan skilfully walk a thin line between war and peace. But the problem with routine
brinkmanship is that it takes no more than a few hawks to push either side over the edge,
as our three previous wars indicate. This time around, there's a horrifying new weapon:
the thermonuclear button. As suddenly as it arose, the euphoria generated by the bus ride
to Lahore and visions of peace in our time are crumbling. To make sense of the new turn in Kashmir, Senior Editor Manoj Joshi,
who's just released The Lost Rebellion, an incisive new book on the insurgency, ferretted
information from his myriads of defence sources. Contributor Zahid Hussain in Islamabad
provided the perspective from Pakistan. Getting to the frontlines was incredibly
difficult. The highway from Srinagar to Kargil was closed to civilian traffic, but Senior
Photographer Sharad Saxena and Associate Editor Harinder Baweja, a veteran of reporting
Kashmir, got permission -- after signing a bond freeing the army of responsibility for
their well being -- and made a nerve-wracking 14-hour, 200 km journey along a besieged
highway, pounded by Pakistani artillery. She found Drass and Kargil had become ghost
towns. Air force jets screamed overhead and troop reinforcements poured in. "It was a
war-like situation there," said Baweja. We can only hope that amidst the boom of the
guns, the spirit of Lahore still survives -- somehow, somewhere.
(Aroon Purie) |
