The things a diplomat remembers
Syed Badrul Ahsan goes through an unusual sort of journal
THERE are books and there are diplomats' books. All these years we have come across memoirs, some smart but most quite shoddy, from superannuated diplomats around the world. And include in that world the People's Republic of Bangladesh, where diplomacy has regularly been a shoddy affair in the way its politics has been. But while that is true, equally true is the reality of diplomats from abroad making their way to Dhaka, spending a few years and then moving on with their accumulated experience, sometimes wisdom. Krishnan Srinivisan comes to mind here. Remember him? The Indian was his country's high commissioner in Bangladesh at a pretty dramatic time for the Bengali nation. No, it is not a term he employs in his narration of events. He does call it, though, The Jamdani Revolution, surely with some European images in mind. The Velvet Revolution, the Orange Revolution and all that, if you must know. Srinivasan's work might initially lead you to wondering about his interest in Bangladesh's indigenous jamdani industry. But then you turn the pages and you realise that that is not what he meant at all. See how useful TS Eliot can get to be at times? But the years (1989-1992) in which he served as his country's spokesman in Dhaka were without question exciting ones, for the good reason that Srinivasan (he was later to go to the Commonwealth secretariat in London as deputy secretary general) began his assignment at a time when General Hussein Muhammad Ershad appeared infallible. Despite the relentless nature of the opposition to his authoritarian rule, the military ruler had little reason to think he would soon be sent packing. And that was when Srinivasan found himself in Bangladesh. He was to stay in the country till 1992, by which time Khaleda Zia would safely and securely be in office as the country's prime minister. It was within that time frame, obviously, that Srinivasan went through his experience. And what a load he carried on his shoulders! Tin Bigha, the Chakma problem, trade, illegal migration, undemocratic rule in Bangladesh and political pirouetting in India and a host of other issues took up huge chunks of the high commissioner's time. And given the fraught state of India-Bangladesh relations, Srinivasan knew what to expect on his plate. That said, it is quite another aspect of these recollections of old times that should draw readers' attention. Briefly, these are his comments (or call them assessments) of the men and women he has had cause to interact with during his stay in the country. Naturally, such interaction was for the most part with Bangladesh's leading political players, apart from a smattering of individuals in other fields of activity. And lest Srinivasan be held guilty of passing unsolicited judgment on people in the country he is assigned to, it needs to be said that his views on politicians, bureaucrats and military officers is equally harsh. Some might call it criticism that is grating. Again, this is not a book in the sense that books generally are. They are (and this will come as rather refreshing to many readers) a record of events, incidents and meetings the high commissioner kept pretty much regularly in the course of his stay in Dhaka. His arrival in the country does not appear to have been a happy experience, for President Ershad kept him waiting for a good number of days before he could present his credentials. It was 14 March 1989 when he was able to go through such diplomatic formalities at Bangabhaban. And this is what Srinivasan has to say of the president: "The president, whom I saw for the first time, seemed rather shifty and easy." That is only the first of his comments on the dictator. But if Srinivasan is unkind to Ershad, he is only too ready to offer up his thoughts on Sheikh Hasina and Khaleda Zia. He is clearly irked by both, the former for her constant focus on the conspiracies she sees around her, the latter for her inarticulate as also imperious bearing. The diplomat expends a good length of time on the bitterness defining relations between Hasina and Abdur Razzak, then leading his tiny Baksal faction. He is not kind to ASM Abdur Rab who, in his view, "is on paper the leader of the opposition but in effect a protégé of Ershad's." But there are also those he establishes good rapport with. Foreign minister Anisul Islam Mahmud, communications minister Anwar Hossain Manju and the civil servant Shamim Ahsan come off well in this narrative. And so it goes on. On his frequent trips to Delhi, Srinivasan is exasperated with the lethargy of government officials. He has little regard for politicians. He detests Rajiv Gandhi, is not particularly fond of VP Singh and has little respect for Chandrashekhar. His fellow diplomats in the Indian foreign office, save only individuals like Muchkund Dubey, do not qualify for his respect. Srinivasan is especially irked by the arrival of what he patently believes to be ignorant men at the top of Indian diplomacy. New foreign minister MS Solanki has no idea of foreign policy because he does not read anything. The high commissioner tells his readers how difficult a time he and his colleagues had in briefing him before the arrival in Delhi of Bangladesh foreign minister Mustafizur Rahman. Journals or diaries are generally taken to be faithful in that they are a record of thoughts occurring to one at a given time. In Srinivasan's case, there is hardly any exception. There is, though, that certain element of condescension readers might detect in his pronouncements on politicians in Bangladesh and India. He holds few of them in high regard. Then there are the military officers, particularly men like General Rodrigues, the Indian army chief. Srinivasan makes note of the fact that on his visit to Dhaka, Rodrigues did not win any friends because of his tendency towards pontification. He was an endless talker and a bad listener. You might be tempted, once you have come to the end of The Jamdani Revolution, to pass judgment on Srinivasan in precisely the way he has hurled his comments at others. No one would blame you. But do read Mizanur Rahman Shelley's foreword before you take up your bow and arrow.
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