IT could well be a millennial moment. Atal Behari Vajpayee, stepping gingerly off the bus to Lahore at Wagah, and Nawaz Sharif, pacing the red carpet perhaps a touch impatiently, embracing, as ceremonial guns boomed in salute. February 20, 1999, 4 pm. The image forever frozen in the evening light of the subcontinent's northern plains. The most unlikely men of peace-who'd just last year been letting nukes do all the talking-were trying to unravel 50 years of confrontation.
The deliberate timing of another set of events only proved that villains of the peace wouldn't simply go away. The massacre of 20 Hindus in the Jammu region by militants the night before the visit and the exchange of fire in Siachen came as dark reminders. And both figures in the middle have enough things they want to forget. While Vajpayee was aboard the bus of peace to Wagah, his coalition in Delhi was pushed to the brink of minority status as Om Prakash Chautala's 4-man party withdrew support. Sharif too faces the wrath of Pakistan's answer to the rss, the Jamaat-e-Islami.
The hawks on both sides, out to torpedo a subcontinental detente, are not the sole source of worry. The real issues crept back into the picture as Sharif, at the state banquet he hosted for Vajpayee at the Lahore fort, voiced the demand for 'self-determination' for Kashmir. This was tricky terrain, given the scope and nature of the peace mission. For, the whole thing had started in an impromptu response by Vajpayee to a newspaper interview by Sharif, very much outside-almost against-the fusty protocol of bilateral dialogue that had got into a rut over these issues.
The two leaders had chosen to rise above domestic criticism, even going against the grain of their parties. It was suggested that this was a historic moment because it was leaders from hardline parties-the bjp and the pml(n)-that were shaking hands, and not moderates indulging in empty ceremony without the benefit of mass support.
At Wagah, a semi-festive mood infected the large gathering. Informed partly by nervous excitement, partly cynicism, the massive media contingent and hordes of Indian and Pakistani officials amassed at either side whiled away time listening to the Punjab Police and bsf bands match each other tune for tune, engaged in reasonable rivalry. Within moments of Vajpayee's first step on Pakistani soil, the mood had changed.
The first-ever meeting between the two in India or Pakistan may have lacked an instinctive personal chemistry, but a beginning had been made to bring Vajpayee's words on the Indian side-'I am going to Pakistan with your support with a message of peace and friendship'-to fruition. And Sharif's now-famous 'desire to sit across the table and sort out matters between ourselves'. That the moment could define the future of one-fifth of the human race was reason enough for a degree of solemnity.
Within the contours of the big moment, there were a thousand little histories being made. A tentative Sharif walking up to the Indian gate at the checkpost while waiting for Vajpayee and, after a moment of hesitation on either side, the Indian gate, guarded zealously at all times, being flung upon in welcome. Or the overwhelmed words of film star Dev Anand, part of the motley delegation that lent colour to the Indian premier's retinue, who was returning to Lahore after 55 years: 'It was too long a wait. This is the moment of the century.'
Then, the two leaders left for Lahore by helicopter, to attempt and unravel the complicated history of interaction between the two nations. It was left to those going by road to see the spontaneous gatherings of ordinary Pakistanis waving and breaking into sporadic applause.Says I.A. Rehman, chairman, Pakistan Human Rights Commission, 'Lahore must stand up for peace.' It did, despite the Jamaat taking to the streets.
Beyond all the symbolism and release of emotional energies, what sort of via media on the big issues the two premiers can conjure up will be crucial. For Pakistan the Kashmir question is central, and Nawaz was willing to tread gingerly on it and not let it interfere too much in other areas of possible progress. Especially trade, given the sorry state of Pakistan's economy, as long as India gives a little. Says a pro-Sharif senator, 'Instead of saying let's put it on the backburner, they can discuss it, not get too upset at what domestic needs will require us to say if we want to prevent the Jamaat from hijacking Kashmir.'
This is a workable short-term solution, he adds. In exchange, the Pakistani view is that India is effectively getting to discuss the issue bilaterally, though Tariq Atlaf, foreign office spokesman, insists 'third party help will always be welcome.... In a way, it is there already due to the concern of the international community of a potential nuclear flashpoint in South Asia'. Indian officials counter that 'on Kashmir, we'll hear what the Pakistanis have to say and restate our position if necessary'.
Despite initial scepticism, the army too is coming around to the view that protecting its interests will be of no use if the state itself collapses economically. In fact, the three service chiefs called on Vajpayee at Lahore on Saturday evening after being prodded into doing so by Sharif. This doesn't mean, of course, that it is all hunky dory, or that the Kashmir issue can be resolved now.
There was informal talk within the Pakistani and Indian delegations that the Line of Control could eventually be converted into the border. But hope had to be tempered with realism. India's Jaswant Singh and Pakistan's Mushahid Hussain launched into this delicate task with some sophistry-that 'as nuclear powers, we now have a great responsibility to work towards peace. It also suits both countries to say it to try prove that the balance of terror thesis and, as a consequence, the nuclear explosions were the right to way to go'.
Of course, the Pakistanis use harsher language for the domestic audience. Prior to the bus journey, Jaswant in Delhi said the views of both sides were known but added, '50 years on, map-making in the subcontinent has to end'. The Sangh hardliners were furious but Vajpayee's calculation is that the positive impulses generated from the meet are the best way to deal with them. And Indian and Pakistani officials indicated in Lahore that if not Kashmir, at least some form of strategic restraint could be evolved, around areas of common interest in disarmament and trade.
Former Indian foreign secretary J.N. Dixit feels such an approach would be prudent while another ex-foreign secretary, S.K. Singh, adds a start may be made in discussing issues like Tul Bul, Sir Creek and the Wullar barrage, with the immediate emphasis on removing the smaller pinpricks. 'Let's stop beating up consular staff and do more in the field of cultural exchange for starters,' is his pithy suggestion.
But everyone agrees the usual fare of Indo-Pak talks, even if on the menu, doesn't constitute the main course this time. The real breakthrough has been the symbolism, the very act of embrace. It came, incredibly, with votaries of Hindu rashtra ranged on one side, and Islam pasand parties on the other. Both are in power, in the ascendant, putting the civilisational faultline in ever sharper relief. Yet, peace is in the air.
The architects of the emerging detente, though, come from within the ranks. Which is why each time Vajpayee and Sharif shake hands, embrace or nod in agreement, a sense of irony is pervasive. For all their charm and warmth, they lead perhaps the most hawkish of mainstream parties on either side. In fact, both leaders are 'decent' men, moderate politicians leading conservative, even 'reactionary' parties. Perhaps it's because of this that the move could succeed.
But to grasp that crucial moment in the affairs of men on which rests the future of a people requires an eye for the details of history. Those who know the two prime ministers say both have a strong belief in their own sense of destiny. And a consuming desire to be remembered as leaders who have bequeathed their nations a lasting legacy. After the chaos
and camaraderie of Wagah and Lahore, that no longer looks unattainable. It is not going to be easy, though, to overcome 50 years of mistrust.
Seen in the backdrop of half a century of an always tortuous, sometimes vile and often brutal history, there can be no doubt about the epochal potential of the events unfolding. In the aftermath of the nuclear tests, many thought-and with good reason-that yet another generation had been lost to the hate, bitterness and despair festering in a million hearts since Partition.
There is more to it, of course. That the initiative is a timely feelgood crutch for two domestically beleaguered leaders is an inescapable fact. Vajpayee is feeling the heat thanks to the cavalier attitude of a large section of his party, not to mention the Sangh parivar, to the continuance of his administration. In the runup to the visit, public criticism of allies by home minister L.K. Advani goaded Chautala into withdrawing support. Hardliners, distinctly iffy about the bus-to-Lahore, obviously believe it's payback time. Irritated at his 'appeasement' of liberal opinion, they are resentful of Vajpayee 'doing his own thing'. Many seem willing to provoke MPs into withdrawing support while some even speak of a possible split.
While for Vajpayee the bus ride is an attempt to take the initiative away from the hawks, Sharif feels he can have it both ways: 'discuss' Kashmir for the domestic audience and play the statesman as well. That it may not quite work out is another matter. Though for Sharif, the problem is not one of numbers but the intrinsic volatility of Pakistani politics. Just a few days ago, Pakistan's Supreme Court struck down his decision to set up military courts to deal with terrorist acts and provided fodder to his critics.
Naturally, both would have no objection to attention being focused elsewhere. After the atmospherics at Wagah, it may be churlish to point out what the critics have been saying. That Vajpayee is doing this to take the wind out of Sonia Gandhi's sails, to retrieve India's image after the attacks on minorities and to cock a snook at the rss. That Sharif is only doing this because the economy is near collapse and he needs to win brownie points with Washington for a bail-out. (Sources say he mentioned the idea of the bus ride to President Bill Clinton at King Hussein's funeral and that the US was 'very enthusiastic'.) That it makes sense to let the trading community do business with India. That it is one more way of cutting the army-which has a vested interest in letting the Indo-Pak dispute fester-down to size.
But that's just the point. Even if it's accepted that these factors have played a part in getting the leaders together, the chances of their being willing to work on something substantive have only increased. Self-interest, after all, is the best known guarantor of success.
Meanwhile, the Jamaat, which competes for conservative support with Sharif's pml, too has been upping the ante. 'First the Indian side has to admit Kashmir is a disputed territory and solve the problem under the aegis of the UN; only then can matters move on other fronts,' says Qazi Hussain Ahmed. But publications in Pakistan-like The Nation, a pro-Sharif paper with a hardline stance on any rapprochement with India-are changing tack. Said an edit: 'It is better to talk to the leader of the radical group (Vajpayee) than reach an agreement with moderates which would remain vulnerable to resistance from the radicals and difficult to implement.'
All in all, it's a fortuitous chance encounter between vision, economics and international will. But the mistrust runs deep. The sheer audacity of the Wagah rendezvous, however, has ensured that any declaration made at Lahore will be a bonus. Because by meeting in such an extravagant manner, the leaders have caught the pulse of the people. To erase the trauma of three wars, the butchery of the Partition and the killings over Kashmir, is perhaps the task of the next millenium. But Vajpayee and Sharif have provided a moment riddled with optimism. 'Ab jang na hone denge,' said Sharif at the banquet, quoting Vajpayee's poetry back at him. Peace suddenly seemed to make sense. Because it is time.
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