Sikkim

by Andrew Duff

  Within days, half a dozen young men were arrested under extraordinary security powers.

  The noose was tightening.

  * In fact, the Bhutanese themselves were ‘quiet as mice’, Moynihan reported. They knew full well that they had achieved what they needed already – the protection that came from being a member of the UN.

  * Bhutto’s indignation did not, however, prevent him from quietly taking over the area of Hunza only a few weeks later. Hunza, a Princely State in the northern areas of Pakistan, had survived beyond Indian independence, like Sikkim. Mrs Gandhi was quick to suggest that the action in Hunza was not much different from her own actions in Sikkim.

  † Ironically it was this personal criticism of Indira Gandhi that caused the most concern to the Indian government, as it was seen as a departure from a long-established protocol not to personalise commentary on political affairs.

  * A popular Chinese liquor.

  † Many Tibetans believe that the US had dropped support for Tibet at the insistence of the Chinese during Nixon’s talks in Beijing in February 1972. (Kraus, Orphans of the Cold War, p. 72)

  * Translation from the Ulster Scots: ‘Perhaps the people with the long noses have been over-diligent.’

  * He would later run Air India (then government-owned) as chairman-cum-managing director before moving into the private sector.

  † In an interview in 2012, Bajpai chuckled as he recalled that Thondup was heard to say: ‘Bajpai may have been a B------, but now they have sent me a Double B------!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘They’ve A’ Gane Clean Gyte’*

  1975

  -1-

  As 1975 dawned, Sikkim seemed to be caught in a kind of purgatory, a halfway house, neither in nor out of the Indian Union, neither with nor without a constitution. Thondup’s position was entirely unclear; the Kazi was increasingly acting as the stooge of an all-powerful Indian chief executive; the Assembly were losing credibility with an electorate who had voted them in before the manipulated events of June and September 1974.

  But internationally there were clear signs that Sikkim’s claims to an identity separate from that of India were gently slipping away, not least in the actions of those organisations tasked with making the decisions on how to categorise a ‘country’. The London-based Statesman’s Yearbook, seen as the arbiter of such matters, wondered if now was the time for a change. The editor approached the Foreign Office for advice, wondering if at last

  events in Sikkim may well mean that the country should be placed in the Indian section as a dependency. It is only in recent years I have separated it because I received considerable pressure from the Chogyal, via his solicitors in London. It is possible that I made a mistake in bending to his wishes although a recent article in the Times does suggest that Sikkim is very much a dependency of India.1

  In New York, the Freedom House organisation went even further in their January 1975 report, deleting ‘the formerly independent state of Sikkim’. The report, picked up by the US embassy in Delhi, included its rationale:

  It is argued by some Indians that recent changes in the status of Sikkim should not be interpreted as incorporation, yet it seems to us that the State’s inclusion in Indian Economic plans, its representation in parliament, and Indian acceptance of responsibility for its administration reduced Sikkim’s sovereignty to that of the Isle of Guernsey within the United Kingdom . . . on the other hand, freedom may have been increased by Indian interference in Sikkim.2

  But even if the world’s almanac publishers and freedom promoters were giving up on the idea of an independent Sikkim, the two Indian administrators in India’s new associate state – B. B. Lal and Gurbachan Singh – were well aware that they would never have total control until they resolved one critical issue: the future of Palden Thondup Namgyal, Chogyal of Sikkim. As long as he remained in Sikkim with a nebulous and ill-defined position, Indian authority would always be open to question. Some in India still argued that there could be a role for Thondup as constitutional head of Sikkim, but the awkward moniker of associate state made even this virtually impossible. In any case they were outweighed by those in Indira’s circle who felt strongly that he had to go.

  In February 1975, an opportunity arose to resolve the issue of the Chogyal once and for all.

  Despite acceding to the throne of Nepal in 1972, the date for Birendra’s coronation was not confirmed until early 1975. Invitations were sent out to the world’s leaders, announcing that the event would take place on 24 February. Birendra planned a major celebration. He wanted it to become a showcase for presenting Nepal to the world. He also intended to use the occasion to propose that Nepal become an official ‘Zone of Peace’.

  When Mrs Gandhi heard of Birendra’s ‘Zone of Peace’ proposal, she was appalled, convinced that it was a ploy to extricate Nepal from the security obligations to India under the 1950 treaty by placing its relations with India on a par with its relations with China. For that reason, she also saw the Nepali king’s coronation as an opportunity to make a point. To emphasise the subordinate nature of Nepal, she announced that only India’s vice-president (not the president, as diplomatic protocol would have dictated) would attend. It was a clear snub and did not augur well: for the Bhutanese coronation the previous year, India had sent its president.

  But it was Thondup’s invitation, which arrived in Gangtok in the middle of January, that raised awkward questions. The most obvious of which was who should actually decide whether he attended or not, now that Sikkim was an associate state of the Indian republic. The External Affairs Ministry in Delhi was well aware that direct intervention would create a storm. Instead they made clear to the Nepali government that while it was Thondup’s decision to attend, if he were to accept the invitation (and they assumed that he would) there would be trouble if the Nepali extended any ‘sovereign courtesies’ to him.3

  Thondup briefly considered sending Tenzing and avoiding a fight. Nine days before the date of the coronation, he changed his mind. He informed Political Officer Gurbachan Singh that he himself would attend, accompanied by Captain Yongda of the Sikkim Guards* and two other aides. Singh had no choice but to give his blessing.

  But on the morning of departure on 21 February, as the small party prepared to leave, Chief Executive Lal arrived at the palace. The Sikkimese cabinet, he announced, did not approve of Thondup attending the coronation. As such, it would be wrong to allow the trip to go ahead. When Thondup told Lal that he could not possibly cancel at such late notice, Lal responded roughly that if he decided to go, he ‘would have to face the consequences’.4 After some frantic discussions, Thondup decided to stick to his plan and to set off that afternoon, albeit with a reduced entourage – he would be accompanied by Captain Yongda but they would also take the Indian head of the Sikkim Police with them, an added protection that Lal, who knew the Indian government was still very much responsible for Thondup’s safety, insisted upon. The Kazi was furious that Thondup should be representing Sikkim once again – and under Indian protection.

  Even as they left Gangtok in the palace Mercedes they passed small groups of protestors loitering by the road. With Yongda in the front with the driver and the Chogyal in the back with the chief of police, they descended towards the border with West Bengal from where they intended to take the road west to the Nepali border. As they approached Singtam Bridge – still well inside Sikkim – there was a loud crack, as something hit the rim of the windscreen. As the driver swerved, Yongda, thinking that it was a bullet or a missile and they were under attack, shouted to the driver to stop so that they could cordon off the area and find out what had happened. The police chief in the back countermanded Yongda’s order, yelling at him to speed up and get out of the area as fast as possible.

  Shaken, the passengers in the Mercedes continued down the road, hoping that it had been an isolated incident. But as they approached the border post at Rangpo, there was a far more visible problem. Half a dozen bitumen barrels had been spr
ead out to block the road. Fearing an ambush, Yongda told the driver to swing left onto the monsoon road that climbed up to Kalimpong. It was a long diversion, but Yongda knew that in Kalimpong they could pause in relative safety in the compound of the royal queen grandmother.

  Just before nightfall they reached Kalimpong, where the local West Bengal Police promised to provide them with security for the drive to the Nepali border. None of them slept much that evening. They left Kalimpong at midnight, driving through the night to Siliguri and reaching the border crossing with some relief. A Nepali government escort took over. There was a distinct change in atmosphere: as they travelled through the east of Nepal to Kathmandu, they found that each district commissioner had organised a reception for them.5

  At the coronation itself, Thondup immediately set about associating with as many foreign dignitaries as he could. News of the eventful journey from Gangtok started to spread. Thondup recounted the story of what had happened at Singtam Bridge – which rapidly became an ‘assassination attempt’ in the retelling – to as many people as possible, including Lord Mountbatten (representing the Queen) and Senator Charles Percy (attending on behalf of Gerald Ford, the new US President). The two Indian ministers and their officials watched nervously, reporting back to Delhi. Birendra, they also noted, spent more than an hour talking to Thondup in private, twice the time he spent with anyone else. When he was spotted not only conversing with a representative of Pakistan but also spending time with China’s Vice-Premier Chen Hsi-lien, the rumour mills went into overdrive. The Indian press ‘screamed that with the USA, Britain, China and Nepal behind him, he [the Chogyal] was going to appeal to the UN; All India Radio, an arm of the government mockingly called “All Indira radio”, led the attack. The sinister aim, they said, was to convert Sikkim into a beachhead of Western Imperialism’.6

  Thondup’s presence at the coronation was fast becoming a more important talking point than the event itself. He did not help matters when he held a press conference after the ceremony. He would, he told the press, ‘leave no stone unturned’ in seeking to preserve Sikkim’s identity, and dramatically challenged the legitimacy of the September 1974 constitutional amendment that had made Sikkim into an associate state of India. If the Indian government believed there was support for the Amendment, they should hold ‘a free and fair referendum’ in Sikkim to validate it. King Birendra, recognising the seriousness of what Thondup had just done – directly questioning the Indian government’s actions of the previous September – suggested that Thondup should stay in Nepal at least until things settled down. But Thondup was determined to return to Sikkim. Abandoning the Mercedes in Kathmandu, he flew to Calcutta with Yongda, where Thondup repeated his call for a referendum in another press conference.

  They remained in Calcutta for two days, staying with Karma Topden, Thondup’s former head of intelligence, who now lived there. The day after the press conference, Topden warned them that he had heard reports that they were likely to be attacked on their way into Sikkim by protestors angry that the Chogyal had gone to Kathmandu.

  Thondup was determined not to be intimidated. Accompanied by a West Bengal police escort, Thondup and Yongda set off across the plains for the Sikkim border.

  While the coronation had been taking place in Kathmandu, the Kazi had gone on the attack in Gangtok, whipping up anti-Thondup sentiment. He was furious that his newfound position as elected leader in Sikkim had been undermined. The press conferences in Nepal and Calcutta, he fumed, were a sign that Thondup had lost all credibility and that the position of Chogyal had become a joke, an anomaly in the new world of Sikkim. He told reporters that there was now a complete breakdown of trust between the Government of Sikkim and the Chogyal. The suggestion that Thondup had been talking openly with the Chinese was evidence of the gravity of the situation. He said he would be writing to the new Foreign Minister in Delhi, demanding that the Chogyal be removed.

  Others in Sikkim, in particular those of Nepali background, were just as aggravated by the reports of the Chogyal’s activities in Kathmandu. Many had relatives or friends who were associated with the Nepal Congress Party, which had been banned by King Birendra for more than a decade; some felt a close political affinity with that movement. Some, in particular Assembly members, were doubly offended – not only had Thondup’s claim to be speaking for Sikkim undermined the Assembly’s authority but also he seemed to be positioning himself alongside Birendra, a man they associated with political repression of those in Nepal who they considered their ethnic kin. The alarmist Indian press coverage, painting Thondup as a Chinese fifth columnist, only worsened matters. Given the choice between China and India, very few would choose China.

  The leader of the Youth wing of the Sikkim Congress, R. C. Poudyal (one of the two young men who had gone on hunger strike in April 1973), was one of those most vehement in his criticism of what had taken place in Kathmandu. He was determined to provoke a showdown. The reports that he was hearing had convinced him that the Chogyal had become a barrier to the democratic progress they were fighting for. Along with 40 Youth Congress members, he set off for the border to meet Thondup’s convoy.

  When Thondup and Yongda reached Rangpo, they therefore found the Sikkimese half of the bridge blocked. Poudyal and others were standing on the bonnet of a jeep, chanting slogans. The West Bengal government pilot car at the front of the escort drove onto the bridge. Without consulting Thondup, Yongda got out of the car and walked past the pilot car towards the crowd on the Sikkim half of the bridge. He knew Poudyal; even considered him a friend. His behaviour seemed irrational.

  ‘RC, what are you doing? Have you gone mad?’ Yongda asked.

  Poudyal looked straight at him and told him excitedly that he could not pass, that they could not return to Sikkim.

  Yongda told Poudyal he could not understand his actions. Did he really think he could prevent the Chogyal from returning to his homeland? There was a short scuffle as the protestors pushed forward before Yongda returned to the car. Thondup berated him sharply for going to confront Poudyal without asking permission. Yongda could only mumble that it was his duty.

  Up ahead the pilot vehicle beeped its horn and the few West Bengal police present tried to get the roadblock removed. Suddenly there was a commotion and Poudyal emerged towards the Chogyal’s car showing his bare arm with blood on it. ‘My hand has been cut by the security forces!’ he shouted at the window of the car, brandishing his arm at Thondup and alleging that he had been assaulted. There was even an insinuation that Yongda might have caused the injury.7 Some protestors, fearing a major confrontation, tried to clamber off the bridge or up the slope. Poudyal returned to the remaining protestors, who jumped into their jeeps and drove off, still shouting slogans. The road was now clear.

  It was almost as if they had got what they wanted – further evidence of the danger that Thondup and his Guards posed.

  Yongda and Thondup crossed to the Sikkim side of the bridge, where they linked up with a Sikkim Guards escort and started the long ascent to Gangtok and the palace.

  The whole episode had taken less than ten minutes.

  -2-

  In Gangtok, B. B. Lal was also determined that it was time for a final showdown with the Chogyal. The display in Kathmandu had been a severe embarrassment to India, just the latest for Lal in a long and frustrating six months as chief executive. When Thondup and Yongda arrived in Gangtok, Captain Yongda was immediately questioned regarding the incident at Rangpo and put into an identification parade, but, with nothing to charge him with, no formal arrest could be made.8

  That same day Lal pushed the inner cabinet of the Assembly to pass a resolution deposing the Chogyal and dissolving the Guards. But he miscalculated. While frustrated by Thondup’s activities in Kathmandu and aware that in theory he might be a barrier to progress in Sikkim, a number of Assembly members were starting to realise that if he were deposed, it would deprive Sikkim of one of the few things that guaranteed Sikkim’s distinct identity. The cabin
et members – other than the Kazi – said they would agree to Lal’s proposed resolution only if there was a guarantee that there would be an elected head of state in the Chogyal’s place.

  The fact that Lal refused to give such a commitment only served to increase the anxiety that there was another agenda at play. Some in the Assembly were starting to think that the Chogyal might be their only safeguard against losing Sikkim’s identity completely.

  With the Kazi the only one in the cabinet willing to consider stripping Thondup of his powers unconditionally, Lal could go no further.

  The Kazi’s open alliance with Lal and his position as the champion of Indian involvement in Sikkim was now leaving him increasingly isolated. Even the Kazini was beginning to doubt whether the way things were progressing could possibly end well. Since her triumphant entry into Sikkim in August of the previous year, she had struggled to settle in Gangtok. She found Sikkim dull compared to the cosmopolitan feel of Kalimpong. (One person she did seek out was the only other ‘Scot’ in town: Ishbel Ritchie. Ritchie immediately recognised the Kazini’s strength of character; she wrote to her mother that her new acquaintance was ‘certainly in the past a force to be reckoned with and to be handled with kid gloves’.)