Shanti Swarup Ambardar: 
Kashmir 1947 - Communists, Qabailis and the Salamati Fauj

Shanti Swarup Ambardar was sixteen and living near Srinagar when, in quick succession, armed tribesmen invaded from Pakistan, the maharaja fled and Indian troops were airlifted to the Kashmir valley. This dramatic account of his memories of that turbulent time was written specifically for this website. It reflects on the popular politics of that time, the role of the left within the Kashmiri nationalist movement and the remarkable home guard and militia raised to defend the Kashmiri capital from the tribal army.

A fuller account of Shanti Swarup Ambardar's life, personal and political, appears in his long awaited memoir, Days of Destiny.

UPDATE : Sadly, Professor Ambardar died in Delhi on 16th April 2016.

Kashmir valley, a magnet for Britons and Indians alike in the years preceding 1947, became the scene of high voltage political drama during autumn 1947. India’s independence movement, the tussle of religion and nationalism, and the appeal of Communism, added to the charged atmosphere in Srinagar. Britain’s decision to withdraw from India had created a vacuum. A militarily weak Maharaja Hari Singh had to quickly decide whether to accede to India or Pakistan. The revolt in Poonch and the killings in Hazara, combined with his antipathy for Sheikh Abdullah, who demanded termination of the Dogra Raj, and for Nehru, who he had had arrested the previous year, put Hari Singh in a dilemma. Nehru’s insistence that all political power be handed to Sheikh Abdullah, was a bitter pill to swallow for Hari Singh. Although he seemed to have decided by August 1947 to accede to India, he stalled for time. He waited until the Qabailis (tribesmen) knocked on his palace gates when he hastily signed on the dotted line, and threw Kashmir into the lap of India.
 

Shanti Swarup Ambardar in about 1948

I was sixteen and brimming with energy and curiosity. I had enrolled at Sri Pratap College Srinagar in 1946. Brij Krishan Madan was the principal. The college was a beehive of academic, cultural and political activity. Our class consisted of about fifty students, of which seven were girls. Karan Singh, the heir to the throne, was enrolled at the college. He would arrive by car punctually and walk up the steps of the portico, a bit haltingly. We were excited, even proud, to have the prince as our college mate. Maharani Tara Devi was the chief guest at the annual function that year. A large tent was set up, carpets spread out, and bolsters with gold and maroon tassels were arranged carefully. Liveried servants attended to every detail. The maharani distributed some of the prizes. Karan Singh was awarded the declamation prize. Another prize went to a boy who had cycled on the Bund’s parapet wall, and displayed coordination and presence of mind for this feat.

What interested me more than my studies were the historic developments taking place globally and in India. Gandhi’s ‘Quit India’ movement had found an echo in Kashmir in the form of Sheikh Abdullah’s ‘Quit Kashmir’ movement. The Bolshevik Revolution signalling that Marxism was an alternative to Capitalism had gained traction in India. The Communist Party of India (CPI), essentially a Soviet propaganda machine, was active in Srinagar. Words like “Proletarian Revolution” and “Class Struggle”, and the Soviet journalist Diakov’s note that, “the program of doing away with the Maharaja, of turning Kashmir into a democratic republic, of giving to the people of Kashmir the right of self-determination,” were debated passionately, but furtively by the student body. Marx’s opiate had become an elixir in the minds of many educated Kashmiris. 

Although the CPI had been banned in India, its leaders dodged Indian police and slipped into Srinagar to work with the National Conference. Niranjan Nath (Saraf) Raina was the CPI’s point man in Srinagar. He had a phenomenal memory and great powers to explain and convince. Punjabi communists from Lahore, including Faiz Ahmed Faiz and M.D. Taseer were in and out of Srinagar, trying to influence the course of events. However, Abdullah was contemptuous of the Punjabi Muslims for their articulation of Islamic identity, and wary of any competition to his leadership. Another strand of communists, known as “Royists” or “Radical Humanists” advocated an armed struggle against the British. The Kisan Mazdoor Sabha and the Kashmir Socialist Party supported Pakistan. Prominent among this camp were Prem Nath Bazaz and Kanayha Lal Kaul. The maharaja’s police was following every activity. 

The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) was also active in Srinagar. The RSS claimed to be a non-political organisation interested in the unity of Hindus. It emphasised Hindu nationalism. Balraj Madhok, a teacher at a local private college, was the chief organiser in Kashmir. He had access to higher-ups in Hari Singh’s administration. I was a member of the Rainawari Shakha. 

Most Kashmiri Muslims aligned with Sheikh Abdullah who was demanding greater participation in the administrative set-up of the state. Few Kashmiri Pandits associated with him or his National Conference Party, which they considered a collection of trouble-makers, itching to challenge Hari Singh. The Kashmiri Pandits participated in the administrative mechanisms of the state, and felt safe under the Dogra Raj. They supported the Congress for its anti-British stance, but did not approve of its support for Sheikh Abdullah. This earned them the epithet Dayihh Kangress, a term meaning that their heart was with the Congress not four quarters, but only two-and-a-half quarters. 

The National Conference had adopted the Naya Kashmir (New Kashmir) program as its agenda and gospel. This was a raft of Marxist clichés and goals to be achieved in Kashmir. It gave a socio-economic orientation to the party’s agenda. It called for abolition of the zamindari (landlord) system without compensation for the landlords. The slogan Zamin Greesti Sinz (Land to the Tiller) promised emancipation for the landless peasantry. The state’s future constitutional framework was to be based on adult franchise. The monarch would only be a titular figurehead. 

The Naya Kashmir manifesto was drafted by B.P.L. Bedi, a communist leader from Punjab, G.M. Sadiq, Niranjan Nath (Saraf) Raina, and M.L. Misri. Durga Prasad Dhar, Kashi Nath Bamzai, Janki Nath Zutshi, and Freda Bedi, the Oxford-educated English wife of B.P.L. Bedi, lent a helping hand. These ideas, neither original nor novel, were lifted from Soviet propaganda material. They found a receptive audience with Sheikh Abdullah, who relied on the CPI cadres for his campaign against Hari Singh. Like him, the Communists were opposed to Kashmir's union with Pakistan because they knew that such a union would not offer any space for their ideology in an Islamic society. The pamphlets were distributed to National Conference workers, Trade Unionists, and student activists. The CPI organised study circles to acquaint people with the Naya Kashmir program. I had a copy of the pamphlet in which the Urdu text and its English translations were bound together, but have since misplaced it. 

Several educated Kashmiri Pandits were attracted to the Naya Kashmir program and its socialist agenda. Prominent supporters from Rainawari Village, where I lived, included Shyam Lal Saraf, Shyam Lal Shastri, Ramchand Kaul (Abhay), Somnath (Koul) Bira and Jia Lal Tamiri. The latter, a practicing socialist, had voluntarily distributed all his ancestral agricultural land among his tenant farmers long before land reform laws were enacted in the state. Dina Nath Nadim, a well-known Kashmiri poet, supported the socialist ideas. Others like Pran Nath Jalali moved a resolution for self-determination, but within the context of the Indian union. The Misri brothers, Moti Lal and Mohan Lal, were active, but were conflicted by the dichotomy in the CPI’s attempt to relate Marxist ideology to Islamic society. However, the orthodox Muslims were wary of the CPI and denounced it as anti-Islamic. They ransacked the CPI bookshop at Maisuma, near Lal Chowk. The National Conference activists, Afzal Beg, Molvi Masoodi and Mohiud-din Karra, were suspected to have had a hand in this. 

Rama Chandra Kak, the prime minister of Kashmir since 1946, was a man of keen intellect, but had an arrogant deportment. He was the first Kashmiri Pandit to break into the inner circle of the maharaja, which was populated only by Britons, Bengalis or Punjabis. Faced with the weighty issue of accession, Kak, given the geographical peculiarities of the state and the diversity of its people, viewed independence as a viable alternative. He advised Hari Singh to wait until the dust from the Partition settled down, and then decide whether to accede to India or Pakistan. This made him the target of the Congress. Kak, feeling threatened by the ‘Quit Kashmir’ movement, cracked down. Sheikh Abdullah and other National Conference leaders were jailed. Police guards were placed at each of the seven bridges of Srinagar. Every pedestrian was forced to raise his hands and say: “Maharaja Bahadur Ki Jai (Hail Maharaja Bahadur),” while crossing a bridge. Fines were levied on those who refused to do so and flogging stations set up for those who refused to pay. Gopi Nath, my father’s cousin, who was a revenue officer, was deputed to collect fines from residents of Maisuma. He disliked this onerous task intensely. 

These developments found an echo at Sri Pratap College. A sense of apprehension pervaded among the students who congregated in separate groups: Punjabi speaking Muslims, Punjabi speaking Hindus, National Conference sympathisers, or those with communist leanings. The Punjabi and Khatri students were aggressive, bold and full of swagger. The Kashmiri students were meek and unlikely to kick up any controversies, but the fear was that Kashmir, being an adjacent state, could not remain immune from the communal fires consuming the Punjab. I read and re-read the Martand and Khidmat newspapers for possible hidden meaning between the lines. India and Pakistan came into existence on 15 August 1947, but Hari Singh remained undecided about which country to accede to. Although he had signed a Standstill Agreement with Pakistan, an uprising occurred in Poonch and Mirpur. These areas were populated by Rajput Muslims and demobilised World War II veterans, who were highly dissatisfied with Hari Singh. The Jehlum Valley Cart Road was blocked and postal, telegraph and banking services collapsed. Food and fuel, previously imported from West Punjab, was embargoed. Cooking oil and rock salt vanished from the market overnight and prices shot up, creating great hardships for the people. We substituted aanchar (pickles) for rock salt to flavour our food. Hari Singh’s State Forces got bogged down in putting down the revolt, and he started losing control. 

A beleaguered Hari Singh tried to salvage the situation. He released Abdullah from jail and nominated him, his fiercest critic, as the Head of the Emergency Administration. It was reported that Sheikh Abdullah had written a letter described as ‘a qualified apology’ expressing his loyalty to Hari Singh, which probably helped with his release. Upon release, Abdullah demanded that Hari Singh transfer power to the people, who would then decide whether to accede to India or Pakistan. The CPI supported his slogan of “freedom before accession.” Ghulam Mohammed Bakshi, G.M. Sadiq, Durga Prasad Dhar and Kashi Nath Bamzai, all National Conference activists, who had fled to Lahore, reemerged on the scene. Jinnah’s emissaries pressed Abdullah to accede to Pakistan. Abdullah was wary of Jinnah, but sent Sadiq to Lahore for consultations. 

Almost simultaneously, tribesmen from the North-West Frontier Province invaded Kashmir. They had been urged by their Peers to fight a jihad (holy war) to do away with the Hindu maharaja of Kashmir and free their co-religionists from his rule. They were promised booty for their efforts. For some it was a crusade, but for most it was a chance of a lifetime; an ideal opportunity to pillage with a clear conscience, as it was backed by religious sanction. They looted shops, set houses ablaze and spread terror as they swept down from Muzaffarabad to Baramulla. Duni Chand Mehta, the Wazir-iWazarat of Muzaffarabad, was killed, as were hundreds of Hindus and Sikhs there. Many women were abducted. Some jumped into the turbulent Krishanganga River to save their honour. 

Hari Singh’s thinly-spread State Forces, hollowed out by desertion of its Muslim ranks, and stretched to its limit in putting down the rebellion in Poonch, were no match for the tribesmen. Colonel Narain Singh, the commander at Domel, was murdered by his own Muslim troops. Brigadier Rajinder Singh Jamwal, the chief of the State Forces was killed at Rampur. By 24 October, the Qabailis reached Mahora, on the Uri-Baramulla road, damaged the small hydro-electric power station there - the only one which supplied electricity to Srinagar - causing a blackout in Srinagar. 

They rapidly advanced to Baramulla, a prosperous trading town on the road to Srinagar and set about looting shops, ransacking homes, hunting for zar (gold) or anything that appeared shining. To them the Sikhs and Hindus traders of Baramulla were kaffirs (infidels), hence marked men to be killed or converted to Islam, their zanana (women) abducted, and their property looted. Two of my relatives, Sudharshan Watt and Dwarika Nath Sadhu, were killed by the Qabailis. Both had travelled to Baramulla that October to attend a wedding. These deaths created great alarm and sadness in our extended family. 

The Muslims of Baramulla fared just slightly better, initially. The enthusiasm with which some who favoured Pakistan, had received the Qabailis as their agents of deliverance from the Dogra Raj, soon turned to horrified disgust. They found themselves being roughly prodded by their co-religionists to part with their women and anything of value. Lurid stories of the fate of Sikhs and Hindus at Muzaffarabad and Uri, and the killings of the nuns at the missionary hospital in Baramulla, quickly reached Srinagar and magnified the all-pervading sense of dread. 

Shanti Swarup Ambardar as he is today

I remember my aunts storing bags of powdered chilli peppers and hundreds of large stones by the dub. Their instructions were to jettison this amateurish fusillade should the Qabailis reach our courtyard. We feared being coerced into accepting Islam, but the worst fear, more than getting killed, was about the yezeth (honour) of women. They unfortunately, and most unfairly, had this additional cross to bear. My cousin sisters were pulled from school and forced to stay indoors. Triloki Nath Kaul, my future wife’s cousin, had gone to check on his parents in Sirru Dangarpora Village. He was captured near Palhalan Village, forcibly converted to Islam and renamed Ali Mohammed. His parents and family had accepted conversion under pain of death. 

Remnants of the leaderless State Force had cast off their uniforms and melted away. Several hundred or so ceremonial guards from Patiala, billeted at Srinagar airfield. They had come to Srinagar with much pomp and show that spring. The mercurial Qabailis’ rapid advance towards Srinagar panicked Hari Singh, who fled to Jammu, the winter capital, on 25 October 1947. The Dogra officers abandoned the police stations and administrative control evaporated in Srinagar. The vacuum created the possibility of igniting inter-community rivalries, especially as refugees started staggering into the city from the border areas of the state. Their tales of woe and sufferings roused passions and created great tensions in Srinagar. 

Historically, Kashmiris of the Valley, barring the Kashmiri Sikhs, have no martial leanings. Although we laboured long and hard as clerks, peasants, artisans or boatmen, none had joined the maharaja’s army or had any custom to take up arms. However, the advancing shadow of the Qabailis and reports of their atrocities on Kashmiri non-Muslims and Muslims alike, created an intense urgency to organise a defense of Srinagar. A remarkable change came over the terrified citizens who united against the common enemy. Sheikh Abdullah called for raising a Salamati Fauj (Peace Army) for the defence of Srinagar. At a huge rally, held near the Secretariat building, he urged people to maintain communal harmony at all costs and to fight the invaders. The Kashmiris responded heartily. The following slogan resonated throughout the city:

“Sher-i-Kashmir Ka Kya Irshad? 
(What does the Lion of Kashmir say?) 
Hindu, Muslim, Sikh Ethihad.” 
(Hindu, Muslim, Sikh Unity.) 

Exactly when the group was raised is blurry in my mind, but I think it was around the time the Qabailis swept down from Muzzaffarabad. The Salamati Fauj was a motley collection of National Conference workers and any able-bodied young man who chose to volunteer. Most volunteered spontaneously to guard their mohallas and properties, to burnish their manly credentials and also to gain some recognition. Shopkeepers, including the Khatris of Amira Kadal, and Maharaj Ganj, college students, boatmen, peasants, even tonga-wallas and local toughs, some with a shady past, volunteered. Guarding against the Qabailis may have been the main motive, but joining the Salamati Fauj was also, for the ambitious, a way to secure a spot in the Emergency Administration, settle old scores, or siphon-off monies that had started flowing in from India. Pilfering the maharaja’s treasury at Sher Gari was another remote lure. 

If I remember correctly, Bakshi, Mohiud-din Karra, Maulana Masudi, Afzal Beg, Mohiud-din Hamdani, Sadiq, and Maqbool Sherwani in Baramulla, were the second-tier leaders of the Salamati Fauj. However, it was Sadiq, a labour leader, who exercised real authority. Durga Prasad Dhar worked hand-in-glove with him to maintain calm in the city. Mohiud-din Karra, who had organised the War Council, a nucleus of National Conference workers to sustain the ‘Quit Kashmir’ movement, was active. Pran Nath Jalali, Pitamber Kaul, Har Bhagwan Kaul and Badri Nath Jalali, all from Rainawari, joined the Salamati Fauj. Didar Singh was another active volunteer, as was Mir Qasim. 

The times were desperate, the situation in Srinagar was precarious, and the Qabailis were at the doorstep. Young men patrolled neighbourhoods and streets guarding banks, post offices and bridges. They only had wooden rifles or stout staffs, but they drilled enthusiastically at Pratap Chowk, which was re-named Lal Chowk (Red Square) after the Red Square in Moscow, by Sheikh Abdullah. This renaming and the National Conference’s red flag with the insignia of a white plough resembled the Soviet communists’ red flag with a hammer and sickle. To the thoughtful observer and for the communists, this was a great victory as it symbolically indicated Sheikh Abdullah’s strong flirtation with communist ideology. The white plough represented the tenant peasants who would become landowners, once land reforms were enacted. 

The marching and sloganeering was in revolutionary fervor, and aimed at bolstering the confidence of the people. The marches usually started from Mujahid Manzil, the National Conference headquarters, to Lal Chowk and then back via Kokkar Bazaar. Each mohalla had about two dozen volunteers. All told, there must have been about 10,000 volunteers, but they were woefully lacking in military training or discipline. A formal command structure did not exist, but the Illaqa committees coordinated local gatherings. There was a lot of confusion about who was who, and who really was in charge. There were no uniforms, shoes or weapons, save several musty single-shot rifles and pellet guns used to shoot pigeons, until the Indian Army started supplying modern rifles, and training the volunteers. The Palladium Cinema Hall, at Lal Chowk, was the hub of Srinagar’s defence activities. Some officers billeted in the nearby Lala Rukh Hotel, the Neelam Hotel, or the Punjabi Muslim Hotel. The numaish grounds were also used for training purposes. 

It was a tenuous existence. The specter of the Qabailis was in the air and Srinagar was about to fall. I was a scared youth and volunteered, but had no idea of how to protect my hamsayas, except to march and shout the prevailing slogans. I, with a group of young men including Cousins Motilal and Kameshwar, and Mohammed Sultan, kept guard at street crossings in Rainawari. All I had, by way of armaments, was a stout wood staff, dyed red, and a brittle supply of Dutch courage. The days were exciting yet dangerous; the nights fear-laden and cold. We went on Gashts, some armed with jezails, long-barreled matchlocks, country-made rifles, hockey sticks or even liven (Kashmiri spades). The following marching song, which was quickly adapted from Subhash Chander Bose’s and the Azad Hind Fauj’s slogans, rang out in Srinagar: 

“Hamlavar Khabardar; Hum Kashmiri Hain Tayyaar. 
(Aggressors beware; We Kashmiris are ready to fight.) 
Kadam Kadam Bhadengay Hum; 
(Step by step we shall advance;) 
Mahaz par Ladengay Hum. 
(We shall fight at the battle front.)
Ladengay Hum Looteron aur Hamlawaron Ke Sath.” 
(We shall fight the looters and the aggressors.) 

“Daz! Daz! (Shoot! Shoot!)” was the jocular term used by the Salamati Fauj to mimic shots being fired at the Qabailis, but I doubt they fired any live rounds in Srinagar City. They remained untested, because the Indian Army arrived in the nick of time. The Salamati Fauj was subsequently attached to the army, and termed the National Militia. It acted in a support role. Some college students volunteered as guides for the army, which had no knowledge of the Kashmiri language or of the terrain. Pushkar Zadoo was deputed to Tithwal, but was killed there. Somnath (Koul) Bira and several National Conference workers went to Doda, near Jammu, to calm communal passions there but Somnath disappeared there. He was presumed to have been killed. 

Another remarkable development was the formation of the Women’s Self-Defence Corps (WSDC). This was a radical idea for the conservative Kashmiri society. The Qabaili bogey had created such dread that the idea of self-defence for women, especially unmarried women, rapidly gained ground. The fate of women and girls became a significant part of each family’s survival calculus. Our elders never talked about this, but the weight of this eventuality showed in their grimaces. The tightly-knit but miniscule Kashmiri Pandit community, aware of the fate awaiting their young women should Srinagar fall, supported the WSDC. Societal hesitations were swept aside and many young women joined the WSDC. Its express purpose was to train women how to defend themselves. Mahmooda Ali Shah, Sajida Malik, Sumitra Inder Mohan and Zainab Sadiq, who was Sadiq’s sister, were some of the WSDC leaders. Akbar Jehan, Sheikh Abdullah’s wife, coordinated relief work for the thousands of refugees, mostly Sikhs from Baramulla, who had converged on Srinagar, and needed rehabilitation. Her activities were mainly to garner publicity and support. Even school boys were recruited to join another group called the Bal Sena. 

The WSDC drilled at the Zanana Park, which now houses the Civil Secretariat of the Jammu & Kashmir government. On one occasion, a WSDC troop, led by Zainab Sadiq, invited Nehru to inspect a parade at Badami Bagh. Krishna Zadoo was one of the volunteers in this troop, as was Shanta Kashkari and Jai Kishori. Krishna’s elder sister Kamla and younger sister Indu, had also joined the WSDC. Zooni Goor (Gujri), a milkmaid, became famous as a WSDC volunteer. Posters showing her wearing a pheran and holding a rifle appeared on lamp-posts of Srinagar. Krishna, who years later was my colleague, recalls, “We were taught target shooting with .303 rifles, stenguns and pistols at the Chand Mari – an open area on the outskirts of Srinagar city. We learnt the use of firearms. When our instructor fired the first shot, most of us were very scared and frightened.” 

The Student’s Federation, which aligned with the Congress and the National Conference, was active at Sri Pratap College. Sati Sahini had been its General Secretary. It issued bulletins about political developments and circulated information and, inadvertently, rumours too about the Qabailis. Newspaper cuttings detailing the arrival of eagerly awaited provisions and kerosene, from Jammu, were pinned to the lobby walls. Students milled around trying to gather information. Poets and artists emerged on the scene to create a sense of unity among the people. Mehjoor’s poem, “Mazhabi Itihad (Religious Unity),” and Dina Nath Nadim’s poem, “Me Chu Hyond Te Musalman Beyi Insan Banavun (I have to turn Hindus and Muslims into humans again),” strengthened the ideas of tolerance. Skits depicting the brutality of the Qabailis and urging all to maintain communal harmony were staged. These plays created a strong feeling of secularity. They also led to an awakening about the need for modernity and women’s rights in Kashmiri society. 

It was a nail-biting autumn. Kashmir had acceded to India, but the situation was fluid. The Qabailis were at the outskirts of Srinagar and regrouping for the assault. There was no electricity. Except for a surfeit of rumours about the city being overrun, everything else was in short supply. Rice had vanished from the shops, so we ate waath (boiled maize). Surprisingly, life continued with a veneer of normality which barely concealed the tense situation. Although Sheikh Abdullah’s call of HinduMuslim-Sikh amity had united the people, things were not entirely under his control. There were several zealously Muslim areas in Srinagar and in the rural parts of Kashmir, where people associated with Pakistan. However, Abdullah’s overwhelming influence, and the dread of the Qabailis – who rapidly became the target of intense hatred – prevented any outbreak of communal violence in the city. During the closing days of October we watched sorties of planes ferry Indian Army troops into Srinagar. Their arrival was hailed by the National Conference as aid coming through Tair-nAbabil, or divine herons. The Salamati Fauj volunteers eagerly helped load the troops into lorries destined for the front. Earlier that month, Major Sharma and his patrol had perished in a firefight with the Qabailis near the airfield. This had created new jitters about the city’s fate. Many outlying villages had been burnt down. 

All came to a climatic end in early November when the Indian Army trapped the main body of the advancing Qabailis near Shalteng Village, barely four miles from Lal Chowk. They were shot at and strafed by aircraft. They disintegrated and retreated helter-skelter towards Baramulla. Srinagar was saved. The Salamati Fauj volunteers spread the word. All heaved a sigh of relief as the pent up fears ebbed away. Many of the captured Qabailis were later paraded at Lal Chowk. My cousins and I walked there to see the tribesmen. Some were barefoot and red-bearded. The Indian Army reclaimed Baramulla and Uri weeks later, but then stalled there as a full-scale war broke out with Pakistan. A ceasefire came into effect at the end of 1948. 

Ironically, Sheikh Abdullah gave little heed to the Naya Kashmir manifesto once he came to power. He strongly supported Kashmir’s accession to India but introduced a one-party system with tight control of the radio and the press. He became an autocratic ruler, something like Hari Singh whom he had had deposed. Land reforms failed, parallel political activity was restricted, communists were weeded out from the National Conference, and the ideology did not take root in the valley. Karra split from Abdullah as did Prem Nath Bazaz, who survived a gunshot to his groin. Over the years, Abdullah’s decades-old friendship with Nehru – who had agreed to fly-in the Indian Army at his urging – drifted into ambivalence and then into antagonism. Abdullah, whom Jinnah had ridiculed as a Quisling for his friendship with Nehru, applied the same epithet to Bakshi and to Sadiq, when they too broke from him in 1953 and used the Salamati Fauj elements to advance their own agendas. But that is another fascinating story.

Shanti Swarup Ambardar, June 2015