Monday, 8 July 2013

Flights of Heroism-- Uttarakhand floods


Flights of Heroism

When all seemed lost, men in uniform stepped forward to turn the tide in the Uttarakhand floods
Sandeep Unnithan  June 28, 2013 | UPDATED 15:59 IST
In his command centre inside Dehradun's Jolly Grant airfield, Air Commodore Rajesh Issar, a lanky officer in olive green flying overalls and matching Ray-Bans, firmly speaks out words of encouragement to one of his pilots. "I will back you guys," he says over a satellite phone. On the afternoon of June 25, Issar, a helicopter pilot with over 8,000 flying hours and task force commander, reached deep within to motivate his pilots. Just an hour earlier, one of his Russian-built Mi-17s slammed into a hillside killing its entire five-member flight crew, six ITBP personnel and nine NDRF personnel. The crash was the worst setback to a gigantic armed forces rescue effort. Issar had to staunch the pall of gloom that spread over the National Technical Research Organisation drone base, now the nerve centre of a massive air rescue. "The chief has given a statement and he means it," he says. "We will not stop flying." Just the day before, Air Chief Marshal NAK Browne delivered the catchline for a well-oiled efficient rescue machine, over 7,000 armed forces personnel who worked tirelessly and efficiently to reach out to thousands of stranded, washed-out tourist-pilgrims stranded on the higher reaches of the valleys, slowly running out of food and hope. "Our helicopter rotors will not stop churning till such time we get each one of you out. Do not lose hope and hang in there."

The tragedy saw one ofthe largest air rescue efforts in Indian history.
As politicians squabbled and cleaved relief efforts along political lines, for the stranded pilgrims the most heartening sight was that of whirling blades and men in olive green fatigues.

The armed forces had performed spectacularly during the Bhuj earthquake in 2002 and when the devastating tsunami struck southern India in 2004. But the Uttarakhand deluge presented a complexity that boggled them. The floods had severed the ribbon-like roads that wrapped around mountains. Entire districts had been marooned. Over 30,000 people stranded. The rescue could take weeks. The forces speedily adapted combat techniques designed to operate in hostile territory for disaster relief.

Lt-General Navtej Singh Bawa, the general officer commanding the Uttar Bharat area, moved his headquarters from Bareilly to Dehradun, equidistant from all the flooded valleys, on June 18. His patrols of between 10 and 20 soldiers swiftly turned into rescue and relief nodes. His directives to the troops were threefold: Search for marooned people, bring them to a safe place and provide them food and medical care. "If my men have reached, there is no question of anyone dying," Lt-General Bawa said.

It was however only on June 21 that the magnitude of the tragedy became apparent. The IAF increased its helicopter strength from five helicopters to 45 machines, pulling them from bases as far away as Sulur near Bangalore and Bagdogra in West Bengal. The Army brought in 13 helicopters including Dhruvs, Cheetahs and Chetaks. Twenty-two private choppers, many flown by retired Air Force and Army pilots, were also brought in.

The forces decided to use one of India's largest helicopter rescue efforts to build air bridges. The concept appeared simple on paper, but where would the machines land? The state government had ignored a three-month-old request from the Army to build a helipad at the Hemkund shrine. The Army wanted the helipad to evacuate pilgrims in an emergency. Now, there was no time to lose. Nearly 150 commandos from the Army's parachute regiment slithered down in areas where knots of survivors had been spotted. The commandos used knives and explosives to hack out three rough helipads for light rescue helicopters like the Dhruv and Cheetah to land. The pilots flew in the worst flying conditions imaginable-over mountains, in poor weather and through treacherous valleys. "One valley could be perfectly clear, the other one could have a cloudburst," a pilot explains.

A survivor pleads with an army officer to lether mother board a rescue helicopter in Badrinath.
The effort spanned over 40,000 sq km and included over 50 helicopters and seven aircraft across the flood-ravaged mountainous state. "This capability has not been built overnight," an Army officer explains. "It took us over 350 years to get here," he says harking back to the Army's origins. On the ground, this capability played out with clockwork efficiency. Time was short and the orders were terse. A typical one-line order from a senior officer would read like this: 'Report to me from Sonprayag at 09.00 hours tomorrow.' The implication: An entire Army unit headed by the officer would have to be in place handling relief operations in the marooned valley.

At the Nehru Institute of Mountaineering on the riverbank of the Uttarkashi, the principal Colonel Ajay Kothiyal, a mountaineer and gallantry award-winner, swiftly deployed his staffers and local youth, over 60 people, to rescue thousands of stranded pilgrims and tourists. "Our greatest asset was the young people of the district who we used in the relief teams as they knew the terrain well," he says.

When it looked like the air effort would be overwhelmed by the sheer weight of people, the Army began opening roads to rescue survivors. Troops built 'Burma bridges', narrow rope bridges that allow people to cross over gorges in a single file. In Jungle Chatti and Govindghat, where such bridges couldn't be erected, Army Cheetahs flew nearly a 100 one-minute hops across a gorge, ferrying stranded pilgrims. Between Jungle Chatti and Gaurikund, troops of the Sikh regiment formed a 3.5 km human chain where they hefted marooned pilgrims on their backs through hazardous terrain. A kilometre away from Gaurikund, an Army helicopter spotted nine bodies on a riverine island. The pilgrims were alive, but only barely. They had passed out from sheer hunger. They were administered saline drips and flown to one of five 'forward mounting bases' at the furthest points of washed-away roads from where medium-sized Mi-17 helicopters carrying 30 people could operate from. This unique air bridge leapfrogged survivors into the relief hub in Dehradun.

The most daring rescue was at Jungle Chatti, an area on the route towards Kedarnath. Army helicopters located what they thought were around 80 tourists stranded on a steep hillside. A group of 18 Army commandos were lowered to provide them with aid. This was when they discovered how wrong the estimates were. "Sir," an officer radioed Lt-General Bawa back in Dehradun, "there are between 800 and 1,200 people stranded here." Jungle Chatti was swarming with survivors who had scrambled up the hillside to escape the flood. They had not eaten in five days and now looked towards the helicopters for succour. The armed forces launched a complex operation the following day. Most people were flown out using helicopters, the able-bodied survivors were moved out on foot.

The relief effort was not without external pressures. Central command officers were deluged by requests from "high ranking Centre and state officials" asking for certain persons to be evacuated first. One officer reads out an SMS template he kept to deal with such requests: "Kindly don't embarrass us. We are going as per the priority list: sick persons, old people, ladies, children, followed by other people."

Army officials in the rescue efforts may have barely had time to chuckle over a gleeful SMS that did the rounds: 'Earthquake? get army! floods? get army! Terror attacks? get army! child stuck in pipe? get army! Pay commission? ForGet army!' The Army was the last line of defence but used as the first option when disaster struck.

The air bridge cut through the miasma of corruption on the ground. One family rescued by the Air Force recounted how policemen on the ground demanded bribes to allow them near civilian choppers. The police melted away when an IAF chopper arrived. Businessman Sudhir Kumar Gupta, 40, lost his three-member family in the flood at Kedarnath. "I survived only because of the Army," he says of his helicopter rescue. After 10 days of non-stop rescue sorties, over 22,000 tourists and locals were saved by the armed forces. Sugandh Chand Jain, a 55-year-old homeopath from Gotegaon, Madhya Pradesh, trekked to Badrinath with his nine-member family and insists he saw divinity. "They are angels," he says of his rescuers in uniform. The armed forces take such accolades in their stride. "This operation fulfils our constitutional mandate of aiding civil authority," says Lt-General Bawa. "I am happy we could do it with the speed and safety of our men and the people we were rescuing," he smiles. Service with a smile.

Wednesday, 5 June 2013

France- travel diary


Unclear nuclear romance

Sandeep Unnithan   |   Mail Today  |   New Delhi, June 5, 2013 | UPDATED 09:46 IST
 
Michel Laurent, the snowhaired Mayor of Beaumont-Hague a French communeof 1,425 persons in Nor-mandie, speaks of Flamanville with the passion one would reserve for their first love. The object of his affection is a nuclear power plant built in 1986 less than 60 km away from the beaches the Allied forces landed on 6 June, 1944. The twin white domes of the complex loom over the English Channel, less than half a kilometer away from where Laurent sits. The 2600 MW complex hires nearly a third of its 2,650 employees from his town, but that's not the only reason Laurent's voice is suffused with national pride: the complex provides 3 per cent of his country's electricity. France broke away from its reliance on Middle Eastern oil after the oil shock of 1973: 'no coal, no oil, no gas, no choice,' went the slogan of the time.

The atom became the cornerstone of France's nuclear independence both for power and for strategic weapons. The world's most nuclear energy reliant country now generates over 74 per cent of its electricity from its 58 power plants. A third reactor under construction at Flamanville will light up French homes by 2016.

The atomic romance may be fraying. The Fukushima disaster has prompted President Francois Hollande to move to halve France's atomic dependence by 2025. Meanwhile, the 2008 IndoUS nuclear deal may have brightened the prospects for India to reduce its dependence on imported oil. India aimed to triple its nuclear power share from the present 2 per cent by 2025. But Fukushima may have cast a cloud on any such nuclear sunrise. The 2000 MW Kudankulam power plant was cleared by the Supreme Court, which dismissed a petition against the plant last month, but it is unclear whether the apex court Flamanville nuclear power plant will be able to do the same in Jaitapur.

Local protests in this port town in coastal Maharashtra have stalled a proposed 9900 MW plant to be built using the European Pressurised Reactors supplied by nuclear giant Areva. Arthur de Montalbert, Areva's global business development manager, who was based in Mumbai until last month, furrows his brow when he speaks of worldwide concerns over nuclear plants. It will be at least 2021 before Jaitapur can generate electricity, and only if a contract is signed this year, Montalbert says. India's romance with the atom may be a slow and painful uphill climb.


Marion stays put in Paris

Marion Cotillard
The Dark Knight Rises star Marion Cotillard.


The limpid eyes of Marion Cotillard, star of The Dark Knight Rises, gaze down from glow boards around Paris. Gerard Depardieu may have fled France citing a high tax regime and left an Obelix-sized hole in Paris, but France's biggest cinematic gift to the world in recent years, the luminous Ms Cottillard has no such plans.

A French official assures me the Oscar-winning actress lives in her apartment in the heart of Paris and can be spotted taking walks with her partner.

Another clash of opposites

Francois Hollande
Francois Hollande.
France's dull bureaucrat-turned Socialist President Francois Hollande beat his flamboyant conservative opponent President Sarkozy last year. Their contest could now have an echo in France's second largest city, Lyon.

Bernard Rivalta, the elected head of the city transportation network, is an unsmiling, bespectacled elected representative who proudly wears his socialist credentials on his sleeve, sips an espresso and flips through a slideshow on his city's transport future.

His political rival Michel Havard, a conservative politician and national assembly member, has movie star looks, dresses in a sharp suit and sips a cold beer as sits in a bar of the Novotel and discusses plans for a new subway system for the city of a half-million. "Expensive, yes, but necessary." The battle lines are drawn.

High-speed future

France
France's high-speeds trains might turn up in India.


The TGV is a shark-like high speed train with a particularly voracious appetite for airlines. It operates between the capital Paris and the second largest city Lyon, in the south. Air France recently suspended operations on this lucrative route. You get the answer a few minutes after the steel and blue train pulls out of the heart of Paris. The countryside turns into a blurry Monet as the train crosses 200 kmph. The clientele, mostly business passengers, are immersed in laptops and tablets. The train pulls into Lyon in Southern France, 400 km away, in just two hours.

Airlines can't compete with bullet trains that inject passengers into city centres, especially when 500 and 1,000 km apart. Someday, this could be the future on the 450 km between Mumbai and Ahmedabad. SNCF, the French firm that runs the line is to complete a €1 million feasibility study on this corridor by next year.

It signed an MoU with Indian Railways during President Hollande's visit to New Delhi in February this year. Preliminary findings say the train on a dedicated corridor needs to cater to a mix of families and corporate passengers; it will take at least a decade to build and the train will have to halt outside Mumbai because there's no land for another railway corridor. Airlines can heave a sigh of relief.

(The author was in France as a guest of the French government)

Monday, 8 April 2013

Fear and exile in Sri Lanka


Fear and Exile in Lanka

Sri Lankan army turns Tamils into refugees in their own land
Sandeep Unnithan in Sri Lanka  March 29, 2013 | UPDATED 16:39 IST
 
A 10-foot-high golden-hued Sri Lankan soldier in full combat gear emerges from the centre of a mirror-calm artificial lake in Mullaitivu district, north-eastern Sri Lanka. The fierce Soviet-style soldier waves a Sri Lankan flag in his left hand, a Chinese-made Type 56-2 assault rifle in his right, mouth open in orgiastic exultation. The war memorial, unveiled by President Mahinda Rajapaksa in December 2009, stands less than 2 km north of the shores of Nanthikadal lagoon where Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) chief Velupillai Prabhakaran was gunned down by the Sri Lankan military on May 19, 2009.

Women on bicycles near the beach in Mullaitivu
Women on bicycles near the beach in Mullaitivu.
The Tiger chief's death signalled the end of the war. Today his four-storey underground bunker, training facilities and wasteland of burnt out civil and military vehicles are on display for thousands of Sri Lankan tourists. But for an estimated 500,000 Tamil civilians heading back to the war-torn north to pick up pieces of their shattered lives, the monuments represent Sinhala triumphalism. "They are treating Tamils like a defeated race and celebrating our subjugation," says a small business owner who recently returned to Mullaitivu town.
Normalcy is returning to the former Tiger-held town of Puthukkudiyirippu on the A35 highway. Women ride bicycles and chatter on mobile phones, buses teeming with passengers lurch past on the dusty unmetalled gravel road. But this normalcy hides a silent rage. In front of a small wayside restaurant stocked waist-high with soft drink bottles and glass shelves with stale pastries, a young man says he cannot forget the horror of the civil war. "The government tells us to forget the past and move on," he says as he kick-starts his motorcycle, "only the Tamils are supposed to forget."
For nearly a quarter century, Prabhakaran's LTTE ran a brutal proto-Fascist state in northern and eastern Sri Lanka, areas it claimed as an independent Tamil 'Eelam'. The Tigers conscripted child soldiers, perfected suicide bombings, even using pregnant women and handicapped persons. They ran kangaroo courts, murdered dissenting Tamils and waged a savage 26-year war with the government. The Tamil civilians trapped between LTTE and the Lankan army were silently relieved when Prabhakaran was killed. Four years later, however, their fear of one dictator has been replaced by another.

Tamils are afraid to speak to foreigners, and when they do, drop their voices to a whisper and look around. Asked whether he would like to be named and photographed, one Tamil who has returned to the Mullaitivu district shrinks. "I'm afraid of a visit by 'unknown persons'," he says. It is a commonly used euphemism for military intelligence and government-affiliated paramilitary responsible for abductions, detentions and torture.
Udayachandra Manuel, 55, a woman who dares to speak about her plight, cannot forget the night of August 11, 2008. Four men in civilian clothes came to her fishing village on Mannar island in north-western Sri Lanka. "The men were speaking in Sinhala. They called for my son Anjan by name and took him away. That was the last we saw of him," she says tearfully. On March 13, she joined families of 25 other people from the former LTTE-held northern provinces as they clutched photographs of their missing relatives and presented a memorandum to the UN office in Colombo.
Bowing to international pressure, in September 2012 Sri Lanka finally wound up the last of its camps where it had housed nearly 300,000 Internally Displaced Persons (idp) in poor living conditions.
ROAD ROLLERS REPLACE TANKS
The government narrative to counter allegations of human rights excesses is economic development. It has demined 1,485 sq km of the northern areas; electrified between 30 and 70 per cent of the five former LTTE-held districts (electricity supply was restricted during the war) of Mullaitivu, Kilinochchi, Batticaloa, Vavuniya, Mannar and Jaffna; revived agriculture; and rebuilt the cratered 321-km A9 highway that links Kandy with Jaffna into a smooth asphalt topped two-lane highway that has cut travel time by two hours.

Supervising this development is the Sri Lankan army that has stayed behind after it recaptured about 4,000 sq km of territory. Dozens of cantonments dot the A9, A34 and A35 highways criss-crossing the Tamil majority areas in the north with fort-like archways; large bronze lions stand as menacing gate guardians. "The military continues to administer these lands as conquered lands," says CVK Sivagnanam of the Ilangkai Thamizh Arasu Kadchi, a Tamil party in Jaffna. "They are everywhere."
Activists say military installations cover over 6,000 acres in the north and are hampering the return of thousands of villagers. The UN resolution of March 21 called for the demilitarisation of northern Sri Lanka. The army, however, is not leaving any time soon. "Why should we leave?" an army officer in Mullaitivu asks. "This is our territory."
During the war of 2009 when nearly 100,000 Sri Lankan soldiers rapidly closed in on LTTE, Prabhakaran and his estimated 10,000-strong rebel army held over 300,000 Tamil civilians as human shields and slipped into government-designated 'no-fire zones' ringed by the Lankan army.
RIPPLES ACROSS THE PALK STRAIT
A panel of UN experts reported in March 2011 that Sri Lankan forces shelled and bombed these refugees, killing as many as 40,000 civilians. The UN accuses both the Tigers and government forces of human rights violations but says most civilian casualties were caused by government shelling. The violence, brought home by recently revealed photographs which show Prabhakaran's son Balachandran, 12, allegedly being executed by the Lankan army in cold blood, triggered protests in Tamil Nadu. It spurred a furious contest between the two largest parties in the state. dmk withdrew support from upa on March 19. Tamil Nadu Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa, who had asked the Centre to boycott the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meet in Colombo this November, went further on March 27 and introduced a resolution in the Tamil Nadu Assembly demanding that Sri Lanka hold a referendum on a separate homeland (Eelam) for Tamils there.

Mandapam camp, teh largest refugee settlement in Tamil Nadu
Mandapam camp, teh largest refugee settlement in Tamil Nadu.
The resolution said the referendum should cover the Tamils in Sri Lanka as well as the ethnic Sri Lankan Tamil diaspora, now living in other countries. Even Sri Lankan cricket players, officials and umpires in the Indian Premier League (ipl) will not take part in matches held in Chennai. Former Sri Lankan cricket captain and Opposition MP Arjuna Ranatunga slammed the ipl governing council's move. He asked the cricketers to opt out of the tournament starting April 3.
Sri Lanka's failure to fix accountability for these war crimes prompted two UN resolutions in which India voted against the island nation. The first in March 2012, a second one on March 21 when the United Nations Human Rights Council (unhrc) asked the Sri Lankan government for "independent credible investigations" into the atrocities and expressed concern at continuing human rights violations.
SILENT AND SCARED MINORITY
In its March 2012 report, the UN says at least 5,653 people vanished without a trace in northern Sri Lanka in 2009. K.J. Brito Fernando, who runs Colombo-based Families of the Disappeared, says the figure is over 60,000. "Fear of security forces is hampering data collection, we can't speak to families without security forces knocking on their door later," he says.
The excesses have continued after the war. In its February 2013 report on "sexual violence by Sri Lankan forces", the US-based Human Rights Watch documents 75 cases of rape against men, women and children by Sri Lankan security forces in detention centres in the north.

War memorial
The war memorial in Puthukkudiyirippu.
The Sri Lankan government dismisses such reports as motivated propaganda inspired by LTTE's overseas remnants. It has rejected UN resolutions as interference in its internal affairs. It says the Lessons Learnt and Reconciliation Commission instituted by President Rajapaksa in 2011, which absolved the army of excesses, is sufficient. "We are the only country in the world that has rehabilitated terrorists," says presidential adviser S.B. Divaratne, who oversees development in the northern provinces.
In 2009, India tacitly backed the Lankan offensive against LTTE. Sri Lanka's powerful Defence Secretary Gotabhaya Rajapaksa told headlines today that India was kept updated about the situation in Sri Lanka's north "from Day One" of the security forces' final assault against the Tiger rebels till their eventual defeat. "We created a mechanism with India, away from the contacts of the foreign ministry, for us to develop a close relationship with the officials," he said. The trio comprising then foreign secretary Shivshankar Menon, national security adviser M.K. Narayanan and defence secretary Vijay Singh were part of the mechanism. They dealt with the President's Secretary Lalith Weeratunga, President's Special Adviser Basil Rajapaksa and Gotabhaya to exchange views.
Indian diplomats say that this cooperation came with an expectation that President Rajapakse's government would rehabilitate the Tamils. Diplomats say its vote against Sri Lanka in both 2012 and 2013 was moved by unfulfilled promises. The promise was reiterated by President Rajapaksa at the Sharm-el Sheikh summit in July 2009. "Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has repeatedly stressed upon two words-reconciliation and accountability and implementation of the 13th Amendment promising limited powers to eight Tamil-majority provinces. We don't see evidence of that happening yet," a senior Indian diplomat told india today. "Instead, we see a fresh cycle of resentment emerging." Rajapaksa has promised to call for provincial elections in September 2013, a first step towards the devolution of power to the Tamil-majority provinces. "India's vote is a quiet admission of its shrinking strategic influence in the neighbourhood," says Ashok Behuria of the Delhi-based think tank, Institute of Defence Studies and Analyses (IDSA).
CHINA'S PEARL IN INDIAN OCEAN
If Sri Lanka is unfazed by the negative UN vote, it's because the country has replaced the battle tank with the road roller. "Sri Lanka is seeing more development in the past four years than in the previous 30," says G.A. Chandrasiri, a retired major general, now governor of Northern Province.

Lankan soldier
A Lankan soldier explains the layout of Prabhakaran's bunker in Puthukkudiyirippu.
"Four years ago, Colombo would shut after 4 p.m. because of fears of terror attacks," says presidential adviser Divaratne in his plush office in the 40-storey World Trade Centre. "Now," he says, "we're back on track." The end of the war has unshackled the Sri Lankan economy: It grew at 6.3 per cent last year. Billboards for Airtel and Dialog dot the Colombo skyline. Women office-goers in skirts and high heels click past the capital's business district. Advertisements for beach parties in Bentota promise 'sun, fun, frolic and dance'. Lonely Planet last year called Sri Lanka 2013's number one tourist destination. Over a million tourists visited the country last year, spending over $1 billion (Indian Rs.5,400 crore). There are, however, concerns about the nation's huge external debt of $24 billion (Rs.1.3 trillion), nearly half its $59 billion (Rs.3.2 trillion) GDP, poor tax reform and a 7 per cent inflation rate.
{mosimage}Adding to India's geopolitical worries is China's looming presence on its southern flank. Long described as a pearl hanging from the ear of India, Sri Lanka is now one among China's 'string of pearls' in the Indian Ocean. China provided the bulk of the military hardware Sri Lanka used to defeat the Tigers. Post-war investments of over $2 billion (Rs.108 billion) in infrastructure projects may help it secure the peace. On March 16, the new Chinese Premier Xi Jingping made his priorities clear when he ensured that Rajapaksa was among the first five world leaders he called. On March 18, just three days before the UN vote, Rajapaksa inaugurated Sri Lanka's second international airport. It is just 40 km away from Hambantota port in Rajapaksa's home province. Both built by the Chinese. Billboards in Colombo displayed the president smiling, eyes partially closed and seemingly lost in thought as he contemplates the swanky ATC tower of Mattala Rajapaksa airport. Reconciliation is not on his mind yet.

Editor's note-- Fear and exile in Sri Lanka


From the Editor-in-chief

India Today editor-in-chief Aroon Purie on DMK pull-out from UPA
Aroon Purie  March 29, 2013 | UPDATED 19:27 IST
The UPA Government has been left hanging by a thread after its largest ally, DMK, withdrew support on March 19. The provocation was an impending US-sponsored resolution at the United Nations Human Rights Council in Geneva which was set to condemn Sri Lanka's human rights record in the last stages of the war against the LTTE in 2009. India had voted in favour of such a resolution earlier, and it was expected to vote in favour again. But this time, the DMK wanted the Government to move an amendment to make the resolution stronger by including the term genocide and by demanding an independent international enquiry. The Congress turned down those demands, prompting DMK to withdraw from the coalition. For the Government, there was a real risk that taking a harder diplomatic line would only push an embittered Sri Lanka further into China's expanding sphere of influence.

Sandeep Unnithan (left) and Reuben Singh
Sandeep Unnithan (left) and Reuben Singh in Mullaitivu, North-East Sri Lanka.
For the two Tamil Nadu parties AIADMK and DMK, the emotive issue of the welfare of Sri Lankan Tamils in the face of Sinhala discrimination has always made for easy populist pickings. But it is important not to forget that the LTTE was not synonymous with the genuine grievances of Sri Lankan Tamils. It was a monstrous terrorist organisation responsible not just for the assassination of former prime minister Rajiv Gandhi but also several prominent Sri Lankan leaders. As a movement for freedom, it was a disgrace, not hesitating to recruit children to fight dirty wars and young women to become suicide bombers. Its final defeat by the Sri Lankan army in 2009, after 26 years of bloody civil war, is good for Sri Lanka, India and the world.

Since the war ended, there have been a series of exposes, several of which showed atrocities carried out by the Sri Lankan army as it made its final push to defeat the LTTE. The army, in its defence, has claimed that it was LTTE which used innocent civilians as shields. But what turned the argument decisively against the army and the Mahinda Rajapaksa government was an exposé in February 2013 in which a set of photographs showed quite explicitly how the army had killed LTTE chief Velupillai Prabhakaran's 12-year-old son in cold blood.

There is also a story beyond the atrocities. After the end of the war, President Rajapaksa had promised to devolve more power to Tamils in the North and East of the island country and to end explicit and implicit discrimination in favour of the majority Sinhalas. Those promises remain unfulfilled almost four years on.

For our cover story, Deputy Editor Sandeep Unnithan and Deputy Photo Editor Reuben Singh travelled to the erstwhile LTTE strongholds of Jaffna, Kilinochchi and Mullaitivu to report the ground reality. They found that while the government's claim of rebuilding infrastructure is not untrue, there is still much to be done to reassure Tamils of their safety and of equal rights in the country. The Tamil-dominated areas are highly militarised. Says Unnithan, "The Tamils are very wary of speaking to journalists. All of them expressed fear of reprisals."

That is a damning indictment of the Rajapaksa government's attitude after the defeat of the LTTE. It is for the Sri Lankan government to persuade the global community, with ample evidence, that it is serious about reconciliation and inclusion of Tamils in the mainstream. It is in Sri Lanka's self-interest. A community under siege is the perfect breeding ground for another militant movement. Bizarrely, the issue has got intertwined with the survival of the UPA Government.

Sri Lanka travel diary- Mail Today


The Big Brothers are watching

Sandeep Unnithan   |   Mail Today  |   New Delhi, April 8, 2013 | UPDATED 08:16 IST
Sri Lanka's international airports are metaphors for its ruling dynasties.

We landed in the swanky Bandarnaike airport in Negombo, 35 km north of capital Colombo.

The airport is named for a family that gave it three heads of state and dominated its polity for most of its post-independence years. Our cabbie triumphantly jabbed a finger at a hoarding announcing its second international airport in Mattala, in southern Sri Lanka.

The next day, staff in the foreign ministry stared at a television set showing the inauguration of the airport, with barely disguised pride, and the attention Indians would usually reserve for cricket matches.

The new Mattala Rajapaksa airport, inaugurated by President Rajapaksa, 67, is a scarcely disguised metaphor for a dynasty that hopes to dominate the country's politics in the 21st century. Democratically-elected presidents rarely inaugurate airports named after their families.

But Sri Lanka's democracy operates as a kind of fraternal confederacy. Gotabaya Rajapaksa, 63, the second most powerful man in the island nation, is both defence and urban development secretary, who cleaned out both, the ruthless Tamil Tigers and the streets of Colombo.

Basil, 61, is cabinet minister for economic development, and the oldest, Chamal, 70, is speaker of the Lankan parliament.

Mahinda Rajapaksa
Mahinda Rajapaksa is the President of Sri Lanka.


A fifth Rajapaksa, Mahinda's son Namal, MP from Hambantota, is being groomed for succession. But the man casting a shadow over Sri Lanka's present and future is President Rajapaksa.

It's impossible to miss the president's larger-than-life posters. They dominate intersections in Colombo and across the countryside.

Clad in his trademark white long-sleeved shirt and scarlet silk scarf, Rajapaksa is a master strategist, who has harnessed the competing interests of two giants, India and China, to power his nation towards 6 per cent annual growth.

India's $800 million aid is rebuilding homes, railways and industry in the war-ravaged northern areas. The assistance flows largely by a fear of China entering its sphere of influence.

Since the end of the civil war in 2009, China has pumped billions of dollars into infrastructure projects, highways, power stations and a gigantic port and airport in the president's home province.

There is a not-so-subtle provincial division of aid: Indian aid is aimed at the Tamil majority north, while China targets the rest of the Sinhala-dominated areas. Chinese aid will eventually transform Rajapaska's home province, Hambantota, into an economic powerhouse.

No prizes for guessing which country he will write a thank-you note to.

Swords to ploughshares

Lankan Army Welfare Shop
A retail army outlet in Vavuniya.


"Army Welfare Shop, renovated and given a modern facelift of a pastry shop and a retail outlet was declared open by Major General AKS Perera on 5 April 2012" reads a plaque on the wall of a retail outlet in Vavuniya.

The shop is staffed by a disabled military veteran, has granite flooring, yellow plastic furniture, and smells of Sunlight detergent and Lux bodywash.

It stands in front of the security force headquarters Vanni, guarded by a 10 foot high roaring bronze lion. Sri Lanka's 300,000 strong military has now immersed itself in commerce.

The army runs cafes, farms and housing projects; the air force runs helicopter tours; and the navy rents its utility vessels for whalewatching and recreational cruises, as Lanka finds ways to justify a continued $2 billion spend on defence.

Unsung heroes

War memorial for the Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) on the outskirts of Colombo.
War memorial for the Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) on the outskirts of Colombo.


On the outskirts of Colombo near the new Lankan Parliament, stands a sombre granite memorial to over 1,500 Indian personnel of the Indian Peacekeeping Force (IPKF) (in picture).

They died in the line of duty during their deployment on the island between 1987 and 1990. The memorial is possibly the only acknowledgement of this unsung force that went into Lanka to enforce peace but found itself fighting the Tamil Tigers.

The memorial was unveiled by Sri Lanka's defence ministry in 2010. Young Lankans, who speed past on Bajaj Pulsar motorbikes, offer a glimpse of India's present-day involvement in the island.

Johnny Johnny yes LTTE

A tourist monk visits the shipwrecked MV Farah-3
A tourist monk visits the shipwrecked MV Farah-3.


Roadsides along Lanka's battle-scarred northern provinces are festooned with red skull and crossbones signboards.

These grim signs demarcate areas still seeded with land mines. Over a million land mines were laid by both warring parties during the 30-year civil war. One stretch, near the strategic Elephant Pass, was among the most densely mined spots on earth.

The LTTE, experts at the use of Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs), fashioned many of these mines themselves: from palm-sized 'Johnnies' designed to blow off a foot, to the 'Special Johnny', which could cut soldiers in half; nearly 3,800 square km of the northern province have been demined and opened for cultivation.

Minefield
These grim signs demarcate areas still seeded with land mines.


The governor of the northern province, G.A. Chandrasiri, says the country could be landmine free in five years. Thousands of anti-personnel mines were laid around Prabhakaran's bunker in the forest around Puthukudiyirippu.

Today, these mines add to the drama of the bunker, now a tourist attraction, as they are safely detonated.

Friday, 29 March 2013

Sri Lanka's Tamil Tiger tourism


Tiger tourism thrives in Sri Lanka

Sandeep Unnithan  Mullaitivu, March 29, 2013 | UPDATED 17:40 IST
 
The small dirt trail just wide enough for a motor car twists into the jungles of Sri Lanka's Mullaitivu district. It leads to a 60 acre complex ringed by five rows of barbed wire, minefields, cages that held guard dogs and 25 small bunkers each with four bodyguards.

At the centre of the formidable 'Puli Kottai' or Tiger Fortress, sits a small nondescript single-storeyed structure. This façade masks the entrance to a four-storey building buried over 40 feet under the ground complete with three foot thick concrete walls and blast-proof steel doors. This is where Tamil Tiger chief Velupillai Prabhakaran once lived, guarded by over 200 bodyguards sworn to protect him to the very end. This is from where he plotted mayhem, recruited child soldiers and wiped out possibly every Tamil leader of consequence using an army of suicide bombers.

Today, however, his bunker complex at Puthukkudiyiruppu, now manned by the army, is the star attraction in a very unique terror tourist circuit in northern Sri Lanka: bunkers, mini submarines, gunboats and human torpedoes -- of the defeated Tigers. All these exhibits are located in a small 5 square km box on the country's north-eastern coast, just a few kilometers away from where the final shots in the war were fired.

A Sri Lankan soldier explains the layout of the museum to visitors. Photo by Reuben Singh/india Today

In pics: Sri Lankan Tamils: Shadows in their homeland


The tourists are mostly Sinhalese from down south who have never been to this part of the country before. The northern areas were almost continually held by the Tigers for nearly 25 years. Thousands of monks, schoolchildren and home makers who come by the busload, now regard the exhibits with a mixture of fear and awe.

"We're happy for our army," says Inoka Dilrukshi, 35, a care giver who works in Israel, cradling her black Spitz, Rex. "We're happy it's all over now," she smiles.

She is accompanied by an extended family of nearly 20 wide-eyed men, women and children in a 24-seat Tata Starbus chartered from a tour operator in central Sri Lanka to tour the northern areas.

A few metres away, hundreds of school children, the girls in white skirts and orange ties, the boys in white shirts and trousers, listen in rapt attention as a skinny Sri Lankan soldier in battle fatigues deftly flicks a thin stick over a large layout of the area. "...we won a great victory against terrorists," he says in Sinhala. The children freeze and look around shocked as a thunderous explosion rents the air. It is a landmine being destroyed by demining teams nearby, adds to the eeriness. The soldier resumes his narrative.

The Lankan army's victory is drummed home clearly in all the trophy exhibits dotting Mullaitivu. Victory turns into triumphalism at the war museum in Puthukkudiyiruppu, the spot less than two km away from the Nanthikadal lagoon where Prabhakaran was gunned down on May 19. This is the site of a gigantic victory monument unveiled by President Rajapaksa in December 2009. This 20-foot high Soviet-style bronze image of a fierce Sri Lankan soldier in full battle gear shoots out from the centre of a shallow lake. He grasps a Sri Lankan flag in his left hand, a Chinese-built Type 56-2 assault rifle in his right hand, mouth is open in orgiastic exultation.

The army's 'Lagoon's edge' a plush two storeyed guest house with three air conditioned suites, a weekend retreat for visiting government officials and families built with wood confiscated from the fleeing Tigers. From the balcony of this guest house inside the garrison of the security force headquarters in Nanthikadal, visitors can look across the lagoon to the final battle and the spot where Prabhakaran was finally killed. There is a graveyard of hundreds of civilian vehicles that the Tigers used in the final stages of the war, most of them Indian-built. The Tigers burnt them as a desperate last ditch attempt to create a smoke screen so they could break out into the jungle.

Further away from this vehicle graveyard, is the wreck of the Farah-3, a Jordanian merchant vessel which was pirated by the Tigers in 2006. The ship was used by them as a pillbox and also a source of steel for armoring bunkers and vehicles. Today, its gutted remains stand as a largest reminder of a brutal war which lasted nearly three decades.
 
The terror tourist circuit 


Nearly four years after the end of the civil war, Lankans make a beeline for a unique series of attractions that remind them of victory after a 26-year war.

1) Prabhakaran's bunker (Puthukuddiyirrippu): Four-storeyed, 40-feet underground from where he masterminded assassinations and Tiger military campaigns.

2) Spot where Prabhakaran was killed (Nanthikadal):"sea of conches". Lagoon on whose shores Prabhakaran was killed. Now within the precincts of a newly constructed Security Force headquarters. Access only to government / military.

3) Farah-3 (Karaimullaivaikal): Jordanian tanker that was pirated by Sea Tigers in 2006. Marooned on the beach. Used as a bunker by Tigers. Metal from ship stripped to make armor plating for bunkers, vehicles.

4) War museum (Puthukudiyirrippu): Exhibits arms and military hardware captured from the Tigers. Mini submarines, howitzers and Sea Tiger fast attack craft.

5) Sri Lankan war memorial: (Puthukudiyirruppu) adjacent to the war museum. Bronze soldier rising out of a hillock. Names of all military units that participated in the final war in 2009.

6) Vehicle graveyard (at Vellamullaivaikal, near the Farah 3) Hundreds of civilian vehicles, buses, trucks and tractors used by the LTTE in the final stages of the war. Many burned to form a smoke screen against government forces.

7) Sea Tiger swimming pool (Puthukudiyirrippu): 50 feet long, 30 feet wide and 22 feet at the deep end. Used to train Tiger frogmen. Covered from the air using nets.

8) LTTE prison: (Visuvamadu). Comprises 60 prison cells where the LTTE intelligence forces detained their enemies.

Thursday, 7 February 2013

Sex, drugs and Jihad-- inside the secret world of David Headley, the man who plotted the 26/11 attack


Sex, Drugs & Jihad

Inside the secret world of David Headley, the man who plotted the 26/11 terror attack
Sandeep Unnithan  February 7, 2013 | UPDATED 16:55 IST
Hours after ten terrorists struck Mumbai in November 26, 2008, Shazia Gilani sent husband David Coleman Headley a coded email. "I am watching cartoons," wrote the Chicago-based homemaker. "Congratulations on your graduation." For two years, Headley had extensively planned and recceed for the attack in which 166 people were massacred. On January 24 this year, he was sentenced to 35 years in a US prison for plotting terror attacks on Copenhagen in Denmark and the 26/11 attack in Mumbai, two worlds he had lived in and effortlessly segued between. The life of the US-born son of a Pakistani poet-diplomat and an American mother was a heady cocktail of drugs, sex and money. The man who frequented the world's largest drug zone, the Golden Crescent in the Af-Pak region, as a drug pusher in the 1980s was later involved in its second biggest export: Terrorism.

Headley is wanted not only for his role in plotting the 26/11 attack but also for planning a strike at the National Defence University in Delhi that trains senior armed forces officers and bureaucrats as well as at tourist spots in Pune and Goa in March 2009. The home ministry has sought the extradition of both Headley and his Pakistani-Canadian co-conspirator Tahawwur Rana (sentenced to 14 years in Chicago) under a second case registered against them by the National Investigation Agency (NIA).
"Headley is one link that connects all the missing pieces of 26/11," says an NIA official. "He establishes the complicity of the Pakistan Army and Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) and also indicts Lashkar-e-Toiba (LeT) supremo Hafiz Muhammad Saeed," he says. Pakistani courts let Saeed off in 2009 for insufficient evidence.
Expanding Mission Mumbai

Four NIA officials granted week-long access to him for 34 hours between June 3 and June 9, 2010, in an underground US federal prison, say Headley was unlike any terrorist or criminal they had encountered. Not just because of his heterochromatic eyes-a blue right eye and a dark brown left eye-but also because of his soaring ambition. George S. Patton's favourite line, 'No guts, no glory', was his motto. As he led the agency into the Pakistani deep state where the ISI ran the LeT as a strategic asset in its war against India, they discovered that Headley was the agent provocateur who had expanded the scale of 26/11. "The germ of the idea to attack Mumbai existed," an intelligence official says, "Headley's meticulous inputs gave the ISI and the LeT the confidence to make it much bigger." The Mumbai attack is, to date, the world's only hybrid terror strike that combined all the elements of modern terrorism: Seaborne infiltration, suicide commandos and vehicle-borne explosives.

Until September 2007, the LeT had planned only a hit-and-run raid on guests at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Mumbai. Two gunmen would infiltrate into Mumbai via the porous Indo-Nepal or Indo-Bangladesh border, carry out their deadly task and then flee north towards Kashmir. Headley's meticulous, hostile recces over nine trips to India between 2006 and 2009 obtained target videos and precise Global Positioning System coordinates which would allow gunmen who had never travelled out of Pakistan before to steer themselves to the five pre-selected targets with ease. He ruled out a strike against Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray's home, Matoshree: The terrorists could not travel 15 km from Colaba to his Bandra home, he reasoned.
There was something else that investigators noted about him. He had a voracious appetite for women. By the time he was finally arrested in 2009, he had had three wives and six girlfriends, some of whom like Pakistani-born Shazia Gilani, may have known about his deadly machinations. India has sent a request to the US for access to Shazia; and for access to two girlfriends-Portia Peter and another, unnamed woman; as well as to Morocco for access to his third wife, Faiza Outalha. Morocco is yet to respond to the request.
Headley's mother Serill, daughter of a wealthy Philadelphia family, had an overwhelming influence on his life. She left the infant, born Daood Gilani, with her former husband but brought him back to the US in 1977. He lived with his mother in an apartment above a nightclub "Khyber Pass" that she ran in Philadelphia with her Afghan-born husband. Headley worked as a manager in the club.
Descent into drug trade
Headley returned to Pakistan in the early 1980s. US investigative website ProPublica notes that in 1984, Headley was caught trying to smuggle heroin out of Pakistan's tribal areas. He used his friend Tahawwur Rana, then studying to be a Pakistani military doctor, as cover. The ruse failed. He was imprisoned but broke out of prison. In 1988, he was caught trying to smuggle 2 kg heroin into the US from Frankfurt airport. He was tried, served four years in a US prison and then cut a deal with the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA). He agreed to work for them as an informant. He used his deep links with drug gangs in the Af-Pak region to uncover drug smugglers in the US.

Post-9/11, when US intelligence agencies scrambled for information on al Qaeda that operated from Afghanistan and later Pakistan's lawless tribal regions, Headley was a vital asset. In Lahore, however, Headley was slowly drawn towards the violent, virulent India-hating ideology of the LeT and its potbellied founder and chief ideologue, Hafiz Muhammad Saeed. The drifter found his ideological moorings within an organisation determined to bleed India.
By 2002, the DEA double agent had became a triple agent. Headley was now being trained as a militant separately by both the ISI and LeT. He was almost unrecognisable in the salwar kameez, a traditional Afghan 'pakol' cap and a beard that touched his chest. Only his eyes gave him away. He was trained in camps first in the LeT headquarters in Muridke outside Lahore and then in gruelling sessions in the mountains of Muzaffarabad in Pakistan-occupied Kashmir. He was coached in unarmed combat, intelligence-gathering techniques and the fine art of cultivating agents. He volunteered to fight in Kashmir, but at 40, was rejected for being too old. The LeT and the ISI evidently had a bigger, more important role for him in mind.
The smooth operator
In September 2006, he arrived in Mumbai as David Coleman Headley, carrying a brand new US passport and $25,000 given to him by the ISI's Major Iqbal for scouting targets in Mumbai. Headley was clean-shaven and wore western attire. Sources say his New York-based make-up artist girlfriend helped him change his look. He quickly discovered that a tall, well-built, English-speaking, white Caucasian male could operate with impunity in India. His suave foreign accent was irresistible to women.
But the ageing Lothario evidently had another secret. S. Hussain Zaidi, journalist and author of a new book Headley and I, attributes his sexual drive to a banned anabolic steroid, Insulin-like Growth Factor (IGF). Used by bodybuilders to gain muscle, IGF 1 and IGF 2 are also marketed as anti-ageing pills and cost over $100 (Rs.5,400) per mg. "Headley was a womaniser and wife-beater who consumed these drugs to keep in shape," writes Zaidi.
To all those he met and befriended in Mumbai, Headley was a US businessman who ran the Mumbai branch of his friend Rana's Chicago-based firm, Immigration Law Centre. Headley ran an office in Tardeo's AC market in South Mumbai, lived as paying guest within walking distance in Breach Candy and frequented Moksh, an upmarket gym in the locality. Here, he met and befriended Mahesh Bhatt's fitness freak son, Rahul. Between his workouts-5 km treadmill runs in 25 minutes, 50 push-ups and 14 pull-ups-the six-foot tall, 90 kg Headley would stare obsessively at a shapely young starlet who worked out in the gym, sparking talk of a romantic dalliance. He would often remark how then rising star Kangna Ranaut resembled his mother. But Headley's affections were reserved for a restaurant owner who he wooed with flowers and from whose shop in Colaba he would buy cakes. The affair died a few months later when her father objected. He never smoked or drank but sipped the occasional Dom Perignon and earned the sobriquet 'David Armani' for his passion for good clothes.
Bhatt, 31, recalls his one-time friend with a sense of bitterness. "Headley is a criminal motivated by 3 Ws-wine, women and wealth," Bhatt told India Today. "He is narcissistic, self-obsessed and manipulative." He was also cautious. He used code words like 'Mickey Mouse project' to refer to potential terror plots and spoke with Rana in English, not his usual Punjabi, during his long distance calls to mask his origins. He was always checking on possible targets. "Does it work?" he once asked a policeman armed with a 9 mm carbine at Siddhivinayak temple, turning to tell his trainer Vilas Warak that it was a World War II weapon. He bristled when Bhatt called him 'Agent Headley' in jest.
He couldn't help his serial philandering. In February 2007, during one of his nine trips between Mumbai and Pakistan to meet his LeT and ISI handlers, he met an attractive Moroccan national Faiza at a mutual friend's home in Lahore. Sparks flew between the spy and the medical student. They were married that month. Headley hid the marriage from Shazia, whom he married in 1999 and had four children with. In March 2007, he brought Faiza to Mumbai where they extensively recceed the Taj Mahal Hotel, which was then the only target of the strike. Headley always carried a Sony Ericsson phone given to him by the ISI with which he filmed elaborate videos of the interiors and the rooms.

There was a tearful spat at the hotel over Headley's first wife and in December 2007, Faiza got into an altercation outside Headley's house in Lahore. He spent eight days in jail for assault. Faiza later breezed into the American Embassy in Islamabad and told the US State Department's security bureau that her husband was an international drug peddler and a terror spy who had been going to India on a secret mission. She said the agents already had a file on Headley when she spoke to them. Crucially, none of this intelligence was ever shared with Indian agencies. This has led to anger within the Indian security establishment.
The Faiza-Headley relationship was rocky, violent and ended in 2008. However, in 2007, Headley's thoughts were focused elsewhere. Both the ISI and its cat's paw, the LeT, were under pressure. The ISI wanted to prevent its Kashmir-based jihadi organisations from mixing with the Taliban. The LeT was going through an internal crisis. Headley told the NIA that the group was breaking up, two important LeT militant leaders had broken away to fight inside Afghanistan, its military commander Zaki-ur-Rehman Lakhvi had a serious problem in holding his restive flock together and convincing them to fight in Kashmir. "This compelled them to consider a 'spectacular' terrorist strike against India," Headley said, one which would shift the theatre of violence from Pakistani soil to India.
Even after 26/11, Headley moved freely in India, thinking of fresh terror plots as he criss-crossed Jaipur, Delhi, Goa and Pune in March 2009. The rush of being an undercover global terrorist was almost as addictive as the Afghan heroin he indulged in in the mid-1980s. Scouting locations at the behest of LeT's splinter group called the 'Jund-ul-Fida' based in Karachi, he planned that gunmen would break into the National Defence University in Delhi and massacre senior Indian armed forces officers there "more than any that have been killed in previous wars with Pakistan"-or so the Chicago-based Rana noted in a coded exchange with Headley. Together they plotted to slaughter Israeli tourists at a Chabad house in Goa and mow down Western tourists at Pune's Osho ashram.
Headley's role in the 26/11 attack earned him the respect and attention of other terrorist groups inside Pakistan. In May 2009 in Pakistan's FATA area, he met Ilyas Kashmiri, the one-eyed leader of the 313 Brigade, an al Qaeda-affiliated group. Kashmiri sought Headley's help to carry out an attack on the offices of Jyllands-Posten, a Danish newspaper in Copenhagen that had published a cartoon of Prophet Mohammed in 2005. He wanted al Qaeda to strike the newspaper office, behead journalists and throw their heads on the street. Headley was so enthused by the mission that he even volunteered to become a suicide attacker. His transformation into a jihadi was complete. But evidently, the al Qaeda affiliate wanted him to do what he did best: Study potential targets. In August 2009, Headley went on his last scout mission. He travelled through Sweden, Denmark and Germany and came on the scanner of British intelligence who reported him to the US Federal Bureau of Investigation that finally arrested him before he could carry out the Copenhagen attacks.
Desperately seeking Headley
Former CIA official Bruce Riedel, now director of the Brookings Intelligence Project at the Washington, DC think tank, says Headley's sentence, while it may cause dissatisfaction in India, is part of a process that gives intelligence agencies critical information. "From the standpoint of a professional intelligence officer trying to fight terrorism, securing (Headley's) cooperation to give information about who was involved, how it was done was invaluable. It gives us the best insights we have into the working of the LeT and its patron, the ISI," says Riedel.

Tahawwur Rana
Headley's Pakistani-Canadian co-conspirator Tahawwur Rana
Headley's extradition seems extremely unlikely no matter what is said in public. In a January 29 press conference, outgoing US secretary of state Hillary Clinton called justice for 26/11 victims "unfinished business". Union Home Minister Sushilkumar Shinde is to reiterate the demand for his extradition with US authorities during a Homeland Security summit in early February.
The NIA hopes it will get the next best thing-extradition of his associate, Rana. "But who knows, tomorrow India might just get their hands on someone the US would want, then Headley could become the bargaining chip," says a senior Intelligence Bureau official.
On January 24, as he was sentenced, Headley shuffled uncomfortably and stared down at the floor of the Chicago courtroom as Linda Ragsdale, 53, spoke of being shot through the spine by terrorists at the Oberoi hotel in Mumbai on the night of November 26, 2008. "I know what a bullet can do to every part of the human body… these are things I never needed to know, never needed to experience," she said. The architect of the mayhem was silent. He had accomplished his mission.
with Bhavna Vij-Aurora and Kiran Tare.