On 16 December, the nation celebrated Vijay Diwas, or Victory Day, to commemorate India’s first comprehensive military victory in a millennium. On this day, 53 years ago, Lt Gen AAK Niazi, commander of the armed forces in erstwhile East Pakistan, signed the instrument of surrender in a public ceremony at Dacca’s Race Course Maidan. A new nation — Bangladesh — was created and 93,000 Pakistani soldiers, paramilitary and police personnel, and government officials became prisoners of war.
This glorious occasion was captured in an iconic photograph of Lt Gen JS Arora, then General Officer Commanding-in-Chief (GOC-in-C) of Eastern Command, making Lt Gen Niazi sign the instrument of surrender, with senior tri-services commanders standing in the background. Copies of this photograph, or paintings based on it, symbolise our armed forces’ greatest feat of arms, recognised the world over as a classic strategic victory. And they find pride of place in all military institutions, museums, and messes. The Bangladesh military too displays this iconic photograph. A statue based on it at the 1971 Shaheed Memorial Complex, Mujibnagar, was sadly vandalised in August post the exit of Sheikh Hasina.
And now, a painting based on the surrender photograph has suffered an unfortunate fate in India too.
This painting was showcased in the lounge of the Chief of Army Staff (COAS), opposite his office, and was traditionally used as a backdrop for photographs of ceremonial meetings with visiting dignitaries and other formal events. A copy of the original photograph was also displayed in the COAS’s office, behind his desk.
On 11 December, social media was agog with the news that the iconic painting had been replaced with a new one titled Karm Kshetra (Field of Deeds), depicting what appears to be Arjuna with Lord Krishna as his sarthi on a chariot, Chanakya, Garuda, and a host of real and imagined military equipment on the western bank of Pangong Lake.
It wasn’t just this. It also emerged that the Chetwode Credo—representative of the ethos of leadership in the Army since 1932— had been removed. The credo, written on a wooden plaque on the wall opposite the 1971 surrender painting in the lounge, was also used as a backdrop for ceremonial photographs. It has now been replaced with a quote from the famous poet Ramdhari Singh Dinkar’s poem, Shakti aur Kshama.
There was scathing criticism of the replacement of the iconic painting and the leadership credo on social media by the public and veterans, as well as articles in the media. The Army has not given any statement or explanation for the change. While “official sources”, off record, have given reasons for the replacement of the painting—such as arguing that the replacement better represents the Army as a “guardian of Dharma”— they have remained silent on the credo.
Possibly as a fallout of the outrage, on 16 December, the iconic painting was relocated “to its most befitting place””—the Manekshaw Centre. As if a new painting could not have been commissioned.
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Significance of the iconic photo and credo
Until the British created a united India, the subcontinent was a feudal society locked in constant conflict. The root cause of both Islamic rule and subsequent British colonisation was this feudalistic culture. While the principal feudal power battled the invader, many of its smaller rivals allied with the enemy. Thus, the military history of a united, independent India — though truncated by Partition — began on 15 August 1947.
Be that as it may, despite all odds, the armed forces performed creditably in the 1947-48 Jammu and Kashmir War and saved the most developed part of the state. However, due to a weak economy and lack of political will, the armed forces did not keep pace with the times in terms of modernisation, and neither was the northern border infrastructure developed to secure territorial integrity against the emerging Chinese threat. This led to the absolute defeat and humiliation in the 1962 India-China war. Odds notwithstanding, the defeat was primarily due to the psychological collapse of the military leadership, which had a cascading effect on the rank and file and, ultimately, the will to fight. It is in the light of this backdrop that we must see the victory in the 1971 war.
The defeated and demoralised Army reformed with manic zeal in thought, leadership, training, and equipment. This still-reforming military machine was tested in the 1965 war with partial success and lessons imbibed. In 1971, the political aim was clearly spelled out—liberate East Pakistan to create Bangladesh. This time, there was excellent politico-military dialogue, and military advice was paid heed to.
The significance of the iconic photograph of the surrender lies in this transformation — from abject defeat to resounding victory. Indian Armed Forces conducted one of the most brilliant and spectacular military campaigns in history to achieve the political aim. The psychological collapse of the Pakistan Army was so complete that, at the time of surrender, it had 30,000 troops defending Dacca (now Dhaka), while only 3,000 Indian troops were on the outskirts, and a handful were inside, including the top brass, flown in by air. Not to forget, the 7th US Naval Fleet was threateningly hovering in the Bay of Bengal.
It is probably the only surrender ceremony in modern history held in full public view— in the full glare of the international media—as opposed to the traditional military-to-military format.
No exaggeration, no fictionalised account, no myths — this photograph says it all through tangible facts. Have our armed forces achieved anything even remotely near this scale to merit its removal or
displacement from its pride of place? The answer is a flat no.
Now, the Chetwode Credo.
“The safety, honour and welfare of your country come first, always and every time. The honour, welfare and comfort of the men you command come next. Your own ease, comfort and safety come last, always and every time,” says the credo, taken from a speech by Field Marshal Philip Chetwode, Commander-in-Chief of the Indian Army, to the first batch of cadets at the Indian Military Academy (IMA) during its inauguration on 10 December 1932.
It is the most complete and all-encompassing credo for the guidance of military leaders and, in particular, the officer corps, placing duty to the nation and the troops under command above all else. Most other armies have a simple ‘to-do’ list. Far from being a colonial relic, the Field Marshal foresaw India’s independence and emphasised that these three principles were for the future officers of a “National Army,” one that must remain apolitical.
Why displays in COAS lounge matter
What the Chief of Army Staff displays in his office or lounge reflects the prowess and ethos of the Army, as well as his own personality, to the visitors — foreign and Indian — he formally meets. The video and photo shoots used for publicity convey the same image to the public. In all armies, the office of the Chief, literally and metaphorically, is an institution. What is displayed within it is his personal decision. According to the grapevine, his reason for displacing the iconic painting was “to show the transition and heritage of the Indian Army beyond just 1971.”
Unofficially, much more has been conveyed. The new Karm Kshetra painting has been said to represent the Indian Army’s timeless commitment to righteousness, as drawn from the teachings of the Mahabharata. It portrays the Army as the guardian of Dharma — fighting not merely as the defender of the nation but as a force upholding justice and protecting the nation’s values.
It is pertinent to mention that this was precisely what the Bangladesh war was about — defeating a genocidal military regime and protecting both the majority and minority populations.
This inspiration, official sources have said, is complemented by the strategic and philosophical wisdom of Chanakya, whose principles guide the Army’s approach to leadership, diplomacy, and warfare. The painting is also intended to capture the Army’s evolution into a technologically advanced, modern, integrated force.
Nothing has been said about the replacement of the Chetwode Credo. However, the quote from Dinkar’s poem Shakti aur Kshama that now occupies its place implies that qualities like tolerance, forgiveness, and compassion are admired only when backed by power and capability. By analogy, it implies that the Indian Army has to be capable if India is to compete and negotiate with adversaries from a position of strength. This is nothing but stating the obvious.
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My take
As a piece of art, the Karm Kshetra painting lacks depth and richness of colour. The style is neither based on ‘realism’ nor is it ‘modern abstract’. It appears to be innocently crude, as though straight out of a school art exhibition.
There have been several commentators who have rushed in defence of the new painting, claiming it showcases our ancient wisdom and history. It probably does, but it falls short of the vision that we must take forward from such wisdom and values. Modern military theory itself is based on empirical wisdom including that of the likes of Chanakya and Sun Tzu, correlated with technology and times. More pertinently, it is a misnomer that the Army has only recently remembered its ancient texts. The coat of arms of several formations are drawn from our historical and mythological wisdom, including those of two of our strike corps.
But ultimately, the military deals with matters that are tangible. Imagination and myths have no place in their thoughts or actions. The vague theme of the replacement painting is steeped in religiosity, mythology, a feudal past, and decades-old military equipment depicted on the home shore of Pangong Tso, across which the Army fought tangible battles in 1962.
If the intent was to showcase a modern army poised to challenge China, then it falls well short. The painting also violates the secular values of the Constitution, upon which the armed forces take their oath.
To sum up, I cannot find better words than what I wrote on X: “The photo/painting symbolising India’s first major military victory in a 1000 years and also first as a united nation, in 1971, has been removed by a hierarchy which believes that mythology, religion and distant fragmented feudal past will inspire future victories.”
The surrender painting was tangible and factual — a depiction of India’s greatest victory and the armed forces’ finest hour. What can be a better example of the Army being the “guardian of Dharma” than defeating a genocidal military regime to safeguard both the majority and minority populations of then East Pakistan. Only a painting depicting a greater military feat, such as recapturing our lost territories occupied by China and Pakistan, can be a befitting replacement.
If change is a must, then commission a renowned artist to superimpose a transformed, futuristic army on a map showing India’s international boundaries as they were on 15 August 1947, poised to reclaim the lost territories. And rather than mythological, religious, and feudal icons, let our real military heroes be shown, showering their blessings from Valhalla.
Lt Gen H S Panag PVSM, AVSM (R) served in the Indian Army for 40 years. He was GOC in C Northern Command and Central Command. Post retirement, he was Member of Armed Forces Tribunal. Views are personal.
(Edited by Asavari Singh)
That new painting is what children make for art projects. It no way compares with the original photo.
Mythology is arguably okay in a painting but atleast have some artistic sense.
Seeing the kitschy art on display, replacing a photograph of the finest hour of the Indian armed forces, thoughts went to Pupul Jayakar, czarina of Indian culture. She defined the aesthetics of an era.