Author: Rashmi Saksena/Almaty
Publication: The Week
Date: June 16, 2002
The general made me a promise. He
kept it the next day. On June 3, General Pervez Musharraf strode towards
his car at Hyatt Rahat Palace hotel in Almaty. I called out from the margins
of the Pakistani president's security cordon. Would he speak to an Indian
journalist? The dapper president turned to flash a smile. "Tomorrow," he
said.
The man across the border, constantly
badgered for not honouring his promises, decided to keep his word this
time. But not only to me; he chose to address a larger audience. Using
the presence of the international press corps at Hotel Ankara, the venue
of the Conference on Interaction and Confidence-Building in Asia Summit,
Musharraf held a Q&A session. He would take questions from all, especially
the Indian media. The general was unleashing an obvious media war. Though
I stood on a chair to be seen above the battery of television cameras mounted
on tripods, I failed to catch his attention.
Was he not going to keep his promise
to me? I decided to take my chance. As his press meet drew to a close,
I charged to the door from where he was to leave. Dressed in a dark high-neck
coat, the collar edged with a lighter blue braid, the hallmark of Pakistani
officials, he strode towards the exit surrounded by his security men. I
stepped out as he was but a foot away and the security swung into action
stretching out their arms to form a human cordon. As I staggered from the
impact, I asked if he was going to keep his promise (referring, without
saying so, to the one he made me the evening before).
Looking the epitome of a reasonable
man, he signalled the security to stop action and said, "I will answer
your question." I asked: "Both you and Vajpayeeji have come here and stated
your cases. It is not different from either country's formerly stated positions.
What is the world to make of it? Does it mean peace is not in sight?"
Musharraf was on exasperation's
edge. "Why does Vajpayee not speak to me? I want to ask him, maybe through
you, why does he not speak to me? You should ask him why he does not agree
to speak to me. I have repeatedly asked for talks. But he does not agree.
I feel humiliated. I really feel like going up to him and telling him,
'If you don't care, I don't care, too.' But I am exercising restraint.
Why does he not talk?"
I still had not got a reply. I tried
to answer his question. I said, "Prime Minister Vajpayee has often repeated
that he will resume dialogue only when you put an end to cross-border terrorism
and stop infiltration across the LoC." The general emphasised, "I have
also said over and over again, I have said it even now, that there is nothing
going on on the LoC. Why does Vajpayee not trust me when I say that?"
By then the security men were anxious
to end the encounter. Their protective arms were up again. An elbow jabbed
into my temple. A moment lapsed and the opportunity to take the conversation
further was gone. As he moved on the general looked back as if to ask,
'Did that hurt?' It jolly well had, but I braved a no. "Come to Islamabad
with an answer to my question," he said, "and then we will have a long
discussion." I called back, "That is not possible. Pakistan is not issuing
visas to Indian journalists." He turned to one of his men to remark, "It's
the same story on both sides."
I needed an answer. Not for the
General but as a professional. I got my chance 24 hours later. On the morning
of his departure from Almaty, Vajpayee decided to meet the journalists
travelling with him at Regent Ankara hotel, where he was staying. During
the Q&A session he disclosed that India was willing for joint patrolling
with Pakistan to monitor crossings across the LoC. This was India's reply
to Musharraf's stand that India cannot be accuser as well as the judge
of infiltration.
Looking fresh in a cream coloured
bandhgala after the previous day's hectic schedule, Vajpayee did not hedge
any question. He sought to give India's perception of the stand-off with
Pakistan in direct terms. As newsmen scrambled to file the story of the
day before Air India One took off from Almaty, I hung around. A smiling
Vajpayee looked at me as one of his aides informed him that I had exchanged
a few words with Musharraf and had a question for him. "What did the general
saheb tell you?" he asked nodding his head and raising his eyebrow in mock
gravity.
"He asked why you don't meet him,"
I narrated. "I have said that infiltration and cross-border terrorism have
to stop first," said the Prime Minister. I said Musharraf had said there
was no infiltration and had asked if Vajpayee did not trust him on that
to start talking. The smile on Vajpayee's face widened. He shut his eyes,
gave the famous pause and said, "Trust is indeed the main issue now."
