The tenth of January had indeed been a triumphant day. The peace agreement had been signed, the Chinese threat had vanished into thin air, and there was much excitement in the press room as the correspondents hastily filed new stories reversing the negatives of the previous day. During the luncheon meeting, the two helmsmen (Shastri and Ayub) agreed to the establishment of a hotline between them to ensure that the border situation was never allowed to go ‘out of hand’.
Later in the day, Shastri attended the final summit dinner where he was received by Kosygin, and after the usual round of handshakes which were now warmer than ever before, the general atmosphere was one of bonhomie and cheer and ‘everyone was congratulating everyone else’. After spending over ninety minutes in the reception centre with the Pakistani and Soviet delegations, Shastri took leave of them, for he was getting ready to leave for Kabul. The pleasantries exchanged with Ayub over the handshake were as follows: Ayub said, ‘Khuda Hafiz [May God protect you],’ to which Shastri replied, ‘Khuda Hafiz,’ and added ‘Achha hi ho gaya [It was all to the good],’ to which Ayub responded, ‘Khuda achha hi karega [God will only do good].’ Shastri also spoke with Kosygin before he finally boarded the visiting car. Srivastava records that he was satisfied with the successful completion of the mission and looked forward to returning to India after their brief halt in Kabul.
With the benefit of hindsight it must be admitted that the media on both sides of the fence had taken up positions bordering on jingoism. Perhaps the best course of action could have been a joint address by all three leaders—and a detailed press note signed by the Soviets, the Indians and the Pakistanis—so that the one-sided interpretations could be avoided. Thus, the media in Pakistan, led indeed by Bhutto, gave the impression that Pakistan had lost the plot on Kashmir, for they had failed to get any possible solution included in the final text. On the other hand, the Indian press, including Kuldip Nayar, did not give lead coverage to the international acceptance and approval of the 1949 CFL and the return of the strategic territory in Chhamb. The headline news was all about the ‘surrender of Haji Pir’. They failed to highlight that Shastri’s team had pre-empted the Sino-Pakistan nexus which could have opened the country to the threat of a two-front war. In his memoirs, Kuldip Nayar has acknowledged that Shastri was indeed miffed with him, for the UNI dispatches had failed to explain the context under which India had agreed to the return of Haji Pir. Thus, the critics got the armour they were looking for. The trope being built was that the ‘politicians lost on the table what the soldiers won with their sweat and blood’. This gave enough ammunition to Opposition leaders, including Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Surendra Nath Dwivedy, to be critical of the agreement. However, this was not unexpected, and Shastri had been bracing himself for this criticism. He had known that it was an emotional issue, and that he would have to face some criticism.
On reaching his villa at about 10.15 p.m., Shastri shared the gist of his conversation with Srivastava. He was convinced that under Ayub, India and Pakistan could open a new chapter in their relationship. After a few minutes, Shastri said, ‘Every day so far, we have been going to bed after midnight. Let us retire early today. Tomorrow morning, we are going to Kabul. It is very cold there. You must wear adequate protective clothing.’ To which Srivastava replied, ‘I will take care but I still have another engagement. A few members of the delegation are due to meet the press representatives in a local hotel located a few miles away, and I have to join them. I have to go there right away.’ Shastri insisted that Srivastava take the car earmarked for him: ‘It is already very cold. I do not know whether the car which has been arranged for you is good enough. I would like you to go in my car, keep it there and come back in it.’
Srivastava recalls, ‘So saying, he came to the outer door with me, gave instructions to his driver and insisted that I go in his car. I was overwhelmed. I entered his car, and as the car moved, I saw him waving to me with a broad smile, as if conveying his blessings.’ That, alas, was the last time I saw him alive.
However, one wonders if Shastri had any premonition, for according to both Srivastava and Rajeshwar Prasad, his aide Jagannath Sahai had seen a slip of paper on which Shastri had written the famous couplet from Saqib Lakhnavi:
Zamana bade shauq se sun raha tha
Hameen so gaye, dastaan kahete kahete.
[All the world was listening very intently,
Only I fell asleep while narrating the story.]
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In his autobiography, Nayar has tried to recreate the last few hours of Shastri based on his conversations with his staff members Jagannath Sahai and Ram Nath. The discussion veered to whether he should stop over at Islamabad for a cup of tea with Ayub on his way back from Kabul. Sahai was firmly against the stopover as he recalled how Balwant Rai Mehta’s Dakota had been shot down by a PAF sortie, but Shastri dismissed his apprehension: ‘Now we have an agreement, and Ayub is a good person.’ Shastri told him to bring some food which had been prepared by Jan Mohammad, the official cook of Ambassador Kaul. He had a dish of spinach and potatoes and a little curry. Jagannath then received a call from Venkataraman, another of his personal aides, who said that while in general the reaction to Tashkent was fine, Surendra Nath Dwivedy and Atal Bihari Vajpayee had been quite critical, and that the Opposition was bound to raise an issue.
Jagannath asked if Shastri would like to speak to his family with whom he had not spoken for the last two days. When the call went through at about 11 p.m. Tashkent time, his son-in-law V.N. Singh spoke in general terms, but Kusum, his favourite daughter, said, ‘Babu ji, hamein achha nahin laga [Babuji, we did not like it (the Tashkent Agreement)].’ He asked about Amma, the word by which Lalita Shastri was addressed in the house. She too did not like it. Shastri became pensive and observed, ‘Agar ghar walon ko achha nahin laga, to bahar wale kya kahenge [If people in the family did not like it, what would outsiders say]?’ Shastri asked Kusum to hand the phone to Amma, but for some reason she could not come on the line. Shastri then asked for some papers to be flown to Kabul, where the IAF plane would be coming for him.
Says Nayar, ‘The telephone call, according to Jagannath, appeared to have upset Shastri. The Indian press had been rough on him. He began pacing up and down in his room. This was not unusual, for Shastri would often do that when talking to people who came to meet him at his residence in Delhi. For one who had suffered two heart attacks earlier, the telephone conversation, the journalist’s attitude and the walk must have been a strain that night.’
Ram Nath then gave Shastri milk which he used to drink before retiring at night. The prime minister again began pacing up and down and asked for some water, which Ram Nath gave him from the thermos flask. It was a little before midnight when Shastri told Ram Nath to retire to his room and get some sleep because he had to get up early to leave for Kabul. Ram Nath offered to sleep on the floor in Shastri’s room, but Shastri told him to go to his own room upstairs.
Jagannath and Ram Nath were packing luggage when at about 1.20 a.m. Tashkent time, they saw Shastri at the door, looking for his physician, Dr Chugh. A racking cough had convulsed him. They helped him into his bed; Jagannath gave him water, but Shastri just touched his chest and collapsed. When Dr Chugh saw him and felt his pulse, he cried out, ‘Babuji, you did not give me time.’ He gave him an injection in the arm, put a syringe straight into his heart, tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and asked Jagannath to call for additional medical help, which came within ten minutes, but by then, Shastri had become ‘immortal’.
Srivastava had just returned to his hotel when a shaken Jagannath asked him to rush to the villa where the prime minister had suddenly taken ill. ‘I literally ran across and reached the villa within three to four minutes. I rushed to the bedroom, and could not for a few moments believe what I was seeing.’ Dr Chugh was in tears, as was everyone else. Soon the Soviet medical team arrived and took over the responsibility for reanimating the body. The medical team concluded that Shastri had died of an acute ‘infarkt miokarda’ (myocardial infarction). In order to prevent decomposition, the doctors embalmed the body.
Srivastava writes:
A pall of gloom set in. As the news spread, members of the Indian delegation started arriving. Swaran Singh and Y.B. Chavan were the first to reach the villa, immediately followed by C.S. Jha, L.P. Singh, L.K. Jha and T.N. Kaul. Within a few minutes Kosygin arrived, as distressed as everyone else. He expressed his grief and consoled everyone. A little later Ayub Khan arrived, and his grief was immense and transparently sincere. Leading members of the Indian press corps—Kuldip Nayar, Inder Malhotra, Krishan Bhatia, G.K. Reddy and Dev Murarka—were among those present.
He adds:
Since it was known that Shastri ji had had two heart attacks earlier, one in 1959, and the other in June 1964, no one present in Tashkent at that time as a member of the Indian delegation had any reason to entertain any doubts about the report and the conclusion of the medical team that he had suffered yet another heart attack which had proved fatal.
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However, the version of Rajeshwar Prasad is different. Though he was not with Shastri at Tashkent, he knew every member of the delegation, and it is important to record his reconstruction of events:
After the grand reception hosted by Premier Kosygin to celebrate the signing of the Declaration, Shastri (ji) returned to his dacha (villa). He said he had eaten all sorts of things at the Reception, his stomach felt heavy and he did not want to eat anything. However he was persuaded to eat some alu-palak (potatoes and spinach) which Ram Nath had prepared with two pieces of toast. Later at night, when a glass of milk was brought, he again expressed a disinclination to take it, but was persuaded to take half a glass.
Shri Sahai had contacted the PM’s residence on the hotline which had been installed between Tashkent and Delhi. Shastriji asked about the general reaction in the country to the Agreement. When told of the criticism voiced by some Opposition MPs, he said that it was only natural for those in the Opposition to be critical. He wanted to speak to his wife, but she could not make out anything in view of the disturbed condition of the line. So he spoke to his elder daughter Kusum. She referred to the reaction of dismay at the handing back of the strategic Haji Pir Pass in Kashmir and the strong feeling that the pass, captured at the cost of so much Indian blood and lives, should not have been given back in this manner. She also said that the whole family, including her mother, shared these sentiments. Shastri(ji) appeared somewhat dismayed, but remarked that there were certain compulsions in the situation and he would explain the whole position on his return. He also asked for the next morning’s papers to be flown to Kabul where he was proceeding from Tashkent, so that he would have a first-hand account of the country’s reaction to the Tashkent agreement—little dreaming that the next morning’s newspapers would be carrying banner headlines of his death.
And thus, the triumph turned into tragedy. Just when he had really come into his own after months of struggle, just when like a newly risen sun, he was dominating the Indian firmament, just when his countrymen were looking up to him with gratitude and eager hope and expectation, just at that time he vanished from the scene like a lamp going out, leaving behind darkness and desolation.
This excerpt from Sanjeev Chopra’s ‘The Great Conciliator’ has been published with permission from Bloomsbury Publishing.