Wars have a way of bringing out the worst in human beings. Perfectly reasonable people become irrational, jingoistic, unfair, and unjust at the first beat of the war drum. Fortunately, in contrast to the rabid war mongering across the border, Pakistanis, for most part, behaved sanely in the recent Indo-Pak crisis. It will take a lot more to bring about any kind of long-term peace between the two warring neighbours but at least for the present a major carnage seems to have been avoided.
I saw firsthand the irrational behaviour triggered by war during the 1965 conflict between India and Pakistan. I was ten years old and living in Quetta, which is a Cantonment town. “Switch off all the lights at night!”, was the first uproar that went up soon as President Mohammad Ayub Khan declared on Radio Pakistan that we were at war with India. Sirens would go off frequently warning of a possible air attack which meant taking cover and, if it was after dark, implementing an immediate blackout. The whole city would plunge into darkness in a second. Anyone who as much lit a cigarette was, as a minimum, declared unpatriotic and in the worse case an enemy agent. Even when there was no air raid warning, it was deemed necessary to block the light by covering all the windows with black paint or dark paper. Even as a child I was intrigued as to how the Indian planes could see my mother cooking on a little stove and send a bomb our way.
Cover of TIME magazine from 1965
A second mania that beset everyone was digging trenches as air raid shelters. Every nook and corner of the city where any soft ground was to be found was dug up to protect the good folks from the wrath of the Indian Air Force. Playing fields took the appearance of burial grounds waiting for bodies. The more military minded folks even piled up sacks of sand on the perimeter of the trenches for additional safety. There were no standards on the depth of a trench and some zealots dug them so deep that people twisted an ankle or two while jumping into these trenches. Getting out of these deep holes was also difficult particularly for the old folks and little kids. The quality of the trench became a point of pride: Some dug theirs in perfect straight lines and edges while others created steps to facilitate ingress and egress. The courtyard of our house was paved so we had no choice but to take shelter under the sturdy dining table.
The war days were tough for the malangs and faqirs roaming the streets. Somehow, a rumour went around that a malang was caught lighting his dope-loaded cigarette during a blackout and upon some tough interrogation admitted to being an Indian spy. This sounded a death knell for all the simple folks in colourful garb and having a spiritual inclination. Some were beaten up by the patriotic citizens, while others were forced go underground.
Somehow, a rumour went around that a malang was caught lighting his dope-loaded cigarette during a blackout and upon some tough interrogation admitted to being an Indian spy. This sounded a death knell for simple folks in colourful garb and having a spiritual inclination. Some were beaten up by patriotic citizens, while others were forced go underground
The declaration of war also stirred up the dormant calligraphists and slogans of “Crush India!” in huge letters started appearing on walls and even roads.
Since Quetta was a Cantonment, troops were mobilized and moved to the borders. One would seen truckloads of soldiers in battle gear, chanting “Allah-u-Akbar!” and “Pakistan Zindabad!” heading out to the railway station - a truly soul stirring sight it was.
The school I went to was run by the army and as result there was greater determination among the students and teachers to defeat the enemy. A declamation contest was held on urgent basis with the topic “My enemy India”. I prepared a fiery speech that I memorised. A pacifist by nature, my mind went blank as I got to the stage. But I guess since the cause was noble, a sudden inspiration gripped me and I went on an extempore rant that brought the audience to their feet! I won the first prize.
But above all, it was Radio Pakistan that was in the forefront of the relentless battle against the enemy. From the roar of Field Marshal and President Mohammad Ayub Khan, “Woh nahi jaantay, unhoon nay kis quom to lalkara hay!” (They are not aware which nation they have challenged!”, to the immortal songs by Nur Jahan, and the “running commentary” from the battlefields of Chawinda and Khem Karan; complete with soul-stirring sound effects, Radio Pakistan kept the spirits up and the blood warm. Truth be told, the winners from the 1965 war were the songs broadcast from Radio Pakistan.
Ayub Khan announces the war, 1965
Of course, by the time the trenches had been dug, the windows darkened, and all the spies dressed as malangs arrested, ceasefire was declared. It was a short and pointless war. Notwithstanding the stalemate, the patriotic denizens of Quetta stood proud. So perfect was their blackout and the early detection of Indian spies in the garb of malangs, that the Indian bombers never once found the town.
After a short wait, black paint and paper were removed from the windows, but the trenches stayed for a long time serving as a mock battle ground for the kids playing war games. There were reports of some unwary passerbys falling into the holes at night. Also, some unsavory individuals used them as outdoor latrines. Well, I guess war ain’t pretty!
