Nepali Maoists collaborates this way with Indian Espionage

How the R&AW threw out monarchy in Nepal, reveals ex-spl director

The inside cover of the book clearly states that is “inspired by a true story,” as journalist Shubhanga Pandey pointed out in a series of tweets.

 (Along with the part of the text retrieved from the book)

 In 1990, India’s Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW) had launched a spectacular covert operation to bring down absolute monarchy system in neighboring Nepal, paving the way for constitutional democracy. The startling revelation has been made by the former R&AW special Director, Amar Bhushan in his book ‘Inside Nepal’ that provides a peek into spies determination to ensure that Nepal was not de stabilized by inimical forces.

The R&AW espionage was not just limited to ensure unity among various political parties with different ideologies but also raising assets in Nepal to carry out operations under utmost secrecy. Bhushan used a shadowy name Jeevnathan for the Chief of Eastern Bureau of R&AW, as it was known in 1989-90 to strengthen the fledgling unit, recruit and run spies to throw out monarchy system run by King Birendra Bir Bikram Shah Dev.

Then Rajiv Gandhi’s government decided to support the people’s movement in Nepal. Several rounds of diplomatic maneuvers to pressurize Nepalese king did not work. Ultimately government resorted to put blockade of food supplies to force the King to institutionalize the democracy.

In the meantime, King in a bid to offset India’s influence sought the help from China. This was double whammy for India as it never wished Chinese footprints in the neighborhood. Finally, the task to ensure democracy was entrusted to R&AW Chief AK Verma, who went on to appoint his best spy- Jeevnathan to carry out Nepal’s operation.

For Jeevnathan, it was an uphill task since R&AW’s eastern bureau was never given priority in the working of espionage unit. Jeevnathan immediately after taking charge of Nepal, assured the R&AW chief that he will finish the job left incomplete by the diplomats.

The book reveals that R&AW spent considerable time in luring Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal also known as Prachanda to join hands with other political parties to put up a united fight against monarchy. Prachanda later went on to become Prime Minister of Nepal twice in 2008 and 2016.

It took months and several rounds of meetings in dangerous hideouts of Maoist leader to finally win him over. Prachanda had his own doubts about R&AW intentions and during a meeting he had raised a question to Jeevnathan- ” Why are you so concerned whether we are ruled by a King or live in peoples democracy?”

After the operation many Nepali political leaders came looking for Jeevnathan but he had quietly disappeared in the grey world of espionage with a message to his recruits- Consider that I do not exist.

In Inside Nepal, Jeevnathan, head of the Eastern Service Bureau (ESB) of India’s external intelligence agency R&AW, has been charged by the Agency’s headquarters with overseeing the closure of the Bureau. In the shadowy world of intelligence operations, the line between right and wrong, good and bad can often become blurred. Presented with the opportunity to redeem the Bureau, Jeevnathan launches a series of audacious operations aimed at securing India’s interests vis-a-vis Nepal.

In The Walk-In, Jeevnathan, head of the Dhaka unit of India’s external intelligence agency, is taken completely by surprise when a young man walks boldly into his office and declares his intention of serving as a source for Jeevnathan. Espionage is a risky business and sources are recruited with great care to minimize the risk of exposure.

Is he a mole? Yet he never pushs Jeevnathan for sensitive information. Is he in it for the money? Yet he has never demanded any. So who and what is he, and why was he so keen on helping Jeevnathan? Soon to be a major motion picture by Vishal Bhardwaj, this double-bill of pacey thrillers highlighting the exploits of India’s intelligence agency will have your pulse racing. (DNA online news network).

Following is a part of the text of the book : Inside Nepal-  Lucknow, 1989-90

The phone was ringing insistently in the living room. Before Jeevnathan, head of the Eastern Service Bureau (ESB) of India’s external intelligence agency, could get out of bed to answer the call, it stopped ringing. Groggily, he looked at the bedside clock. It was 5.30 a.m. He wondered who it could have been. Perhaps it was his wife, Manini, calling from Delhi.

Jeevnathan, popularly known in the Agency as Jeev, had recently returned to India after completing a foreign assignment to take up his new post at the ESB. Till such time as he rented proper accommodation in Lucknow, Manini was staying in Delhi with the kids in a guest house, attended to by a disgruntled caretaker. Was something wrong? He began to worry. It was very early for her to be calling. He was about to get out of bed to call her, when the phone shrieked again. Jeev hastily threw off the quilt and drew aside the curtain to check if daylight had broken. It was still very dark outside and drizzling.

For the last ten days, Lucknow had been reeling under a severe cold spell, made worse by frequent rains. Jeev shivered and threw a shawl around his shoulders before hurrying to the living room. But by the time he reached the phone, it had stopped ringing. Becoming increasingly worried, he wasted no time in booking a lightning call to Manini. During the eighties and early nineties, the telecommunication services in India were basic at best. The only service provider was the state-controlled Post and Telegraph Department, which provided landline phones, supported by a poor network and outdated equipment and manned by indifferent employees.

Long-distance calls had to be booked through an operator, and were prioritized as ordinary, urgent, immediate, most immediate and lightning. Accordingly, operators planned their response time to connect calls. It was a different matter that in most cases, calls never materialized.

Jeev brought a pillow from the bedroom, pulled the phone closer to him on the coffee table and lay down on the sofa. He cursed his rule-bound accountant who would not permit him to buy a cordless device or a phone with caller identification simply because it cost fifty rupees more than his financial powers allowed him to sanction. He struggled for a while to stay awake but soon fell asleep.

He had returned to the safe-house where he was staying at around 1.00 a.m. from a failed visit to meet one of his predecessor’s sources on the border. He had made the trip in a rickety Willy’s jeep and was exhausted. He woke up with a start when the phone began shrilling again. He rubbed his eyes, sat up and reached for the receiver, hoping that the lightning call to his wife had come through. But the caller was Naveen Sharma, the desk officer of Nepal operations at headquarters and a friend of Jeevnathan’s.

‘I have been trying to reach you since early this morning but you didn’t pick up the phone,’ Naveen complained.

‘Why, is there a crisis?’ Jeev enquired.

‘You could say that,’ Naveen said. ‘Yesterday, the Chief decided in a meeting to shut down the Eastern Service Bureau with immediate effect and directed me to communicate this to you.’ Naveen hesitated before continuing, ‘I’m sorry. I know you just moved to Lucknow and another transfer within weeks of your arrival will be hard, especially since you just rented a house and Manini and the kids will be joining you in the next few days.’

Not quite believing what he was hearing, Jeev asked, ‘Are you going to shut down the Eastern Service Bureau for good?’

‘Yes. The plan is to withdraw ninety-five per cent of the employees of the bureau, including you, following the closure of all the units dotted along the border,’ Naveen briefed him. ‘All unproductive operations that are being run by your station are to be scrapped. All field operatives are to suspend their source work and fix no further meetings with their assets. A team of two or maximum three personnel under a junior officer will, however, remain in Lucknow. Their job will basically be to liaise with the government of UP and its intelligence agencies. A review of this skeleton unit’s usefulness will be undertaken after six months,’ he added.

‘What suddenly provoked you to take this quixotic decision to shut down the bureau?’ Jeev asked in anger.

‘It isn’t as sudden or quixotic as it seems,’ Naveen replied. ‘Over the years,’ he explained, ‘we have been monitoring the ESB’s performance and have found its output, both in terms of quality and quantity, to be steadily declining. Though a large number of sources are being run, the usable value of their reports has been poor and not worth a rupee.

Similarly, the station’s current operations are being run around insignificant targets and produce unreliable inputs. To make matters worse, the reports from sources often reach headquarters long after the events have taken place and therefore cannot be shared with the concerned government departments. I have compiled seven years of statistics to substantiate these findings, which I gave to the Chief, but I refrained from suggesting any course of action,’ he added.

‘Was Rajan present in the meeting?’ Jeev asked.

‘Yes. He endorsed my views, pointing out that under the circumstances, we could not justify maintaining such a huge bureau with hundreds of field operatives and administrative staff, when more important operational commitments were suffering due to a shortage of manpower. The Chief agreed and directed me to ask you to submit a report within a fortnight, outlining the phase-wise withdrawal of your bordering units. Separately, Rajan wants you to make a quick assessment of your financial and logistical requirements and send it to us at the earliest,’ Naveen said.

‘So, it’s you who have been working to consign the ESB to the dustbin of the Agency’s history,’ Jeev said acidly.

‘You are not being fair to me. I could not be a mute spectator to non-performance of this magnitude,’ Naveen defended himself.

‘I can understand your sense of outrage over the functioning of the ESB, but what I do not appreciate about this decision is that I was kept completely in the dark about this possibility. No one at headquarters, not even you, gave me the slightest hint that I was being assigned to the ESB only for a few months and that too for shutting it down,’ Jeev complained.

‘Please don’t misunderstand me, Jeev. It was never my intention to put you in such an awkward position. We have been friends for years and you know how much I lobbied to keep you in Delhi. Believe me, neither I nor Rajan has played Brutus to you.’

When Jeev said nothing, Naveen continued. ‘My task was limited to carrying out an objective review of the ESB’s work and submitting it to the Chief. I handed it in to him some six months ago, but heard nothing from him thereafter. It was only yesterday that he finally announced his decision. Since we were not sure what view he would finally take, I avoided mentioning anything to you,’ he explained.

Jeev was unconvinced.

‘You may have your reasons, but I wish you had been more straightforward with me. You could have at least mentioned the poor state of source work at this unit and your expectations from me. In hindsight, I can see where I misjudged the signals. When I went to call on the Chief on the day I was leaving for Lucknow, he smugly told me to enjoy my new assignment and to make the most of my time in Lucknow.

I didn’t realize that he was actually being sarcastic and deliberately waylaying me so that I did not object to my posting to Lucknow for a few months,’ Jeev said. ‘Anyway, it seems the decision has been made.’

‘I don’t think the Chief was aware of our recommendations when you met him last. But he was indeed being sarcastic and had reasons to be so. Your predecessors had no time to raise and run sources or to keep track of what their junior operatives were doing in the field. They either cribbed about administrative issues or used their posting to expand their financial assets,’ Naveen said.

‘How many months are you giving me to wind up the bureau?’ Jeev asked.

‘One month after we approve your logistical and financial requirements.’

‘Only a month? But that’s too short a period to pull the shutters down on this huge set up. I haven’t had the opportunity to meet the majority of the bureau’s employees, or visit any of the bordering units, or review any source reports. How can I draw up a realistic schedule for the bureau’s closure while sitting in the office?

It won’t be easy to decide whom to retain here and whom to transfer, or to guide the field operatives on how to disassociate themselves from their sources unless I meet my staff and operatives and find out their operational difficulties. This requires time, maybe a year,’ Jeev argued.

‘You need not worry on that count,’ Naveen assured him. ‘We have already worked out the entire drill, drawn up a timetable and identified dispensable assets. By tomorrow you should receive a communication that will guide you on how to go about this exercise. You only have to work out the logistics and supervise the retreat,’ he explained.

‘Retreat is the right word,’ Jeev snapped. ‘You couldn’t have found a more disgraced general to lead his troops back to their barracks,’ he said.

‘I don’t know why you are taking it so personally. It’s an institutional decision that we all must respect,’ Naveen said.

‘For heaven’s sake, stop patronizing me. The least that I expected from you was a hint of what was awaiting me here. I would not have bothered to rent a house or unpack my baggage, which arrived only yesterday. I don’t even know whether we should enrol my younger daughter, Adya in school for a few months or make arrangements to put her in a boarding school in Delhi,’ Jeev sounded bitter.

‘I know this has put you in a tough position, but I thought you would be happy about returning to Delhi. In any case, Lucknow is not the place for an operative like you,’ Naveen tried to end the conversation on a conciliatory note.

Jeev was in no mood to be mollified and hung up after a perfunctory goodbye. He looked at the clock. It was 7.00 a.m. The caretaker of the safe-house came in and served him tea. As Jeev was going through the morning newspaper, the phone rang again. He picked up the receiver and heard the trunk operator announcing that his lightning call to Delhi was being put through.

‘Manini, this is Jeev. I just wanted to check how you and the kids were doing,’ he said.

‘Don’t lie. How come you’re calling so early in the morning?’ she inquired.

‘There has been a development. I wanted to let you know about it, and seek your advice,’ Jeev said.

‘I suspect you are hiding something. I can’t recall when you last sought my advice on any matter,’ she jibed.

Jeev ignored her barb, telling her instead, ‘I’ll explain things when you get here. Has field officer Narayan met you?’ he inquired.

‘Yes. He is coming to pick us up at 8.00 a.m.,’ she said.

‘I’ll be coming to the airport to receive you,’ Jeev said.

‘But the flight lands at 11.30 a.m. Will it be possible for you to leave your office?’

‘There is hardly anything to do here and very soon I am going to be without a job,’ he said.

‘That will be the day,’ she quipped and hung up.

Prateek Awasthy’s face fell when Jeevnathan conveyed headquarters’ decision to his deputy. He appeared nervous as he dabbed at the sweat that had broken out on his forehead. Jeev inquired if he was feeling all right.

‘If you’re not up to it, we can have the discussion later,’ he said.

‘I’m fine, sir,’ Awasthy replied, regaining his composure. ‘It’s just that this news has come as a complete shock to me.’

‘But why should an official decision affect you so much?’ Jeev asked.

‘Sir, apart from the personal problems that it is going to create for me, this is a thoughtless and untimely operational decision.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘We are running several key operations and handling numerous assets of critical importance. It will be insane to abandon all of them suddenly when passions are running so high between India and Nepal. Sir, you know that the Nepalese king is adamant on buying anti-aircraft guns from China, which he neither needs to fight the communists nor to maintain law and order. He has also promised several economic concessions to the Chinese and has offered to give them unfettered access to build roads, railways and military institutions.

On the other hand, he refuses to extend the Indo-Nepal peace and friendship treaty and ignores our repeated requests to prevent ISI and Islamic extremist groups from using Nepalese soil to infiltrate Kashmiri terrorists, Sikh militants and Northeast insurgents into India. All our efforts to persuade the king to see the long-term benefits of a friendly relationship with India have failed. I hear Delhi is exploring various options to punish him. Sir, we need the ESB now more than ever to cover anti-India activities in Nepal. Neither headquarters nor its sources in Nepal can do this job effectively without being harassed by the Nepalese Intelligence Services. Only our assets, based in Nepal, can obtain the information we need,’ he argued.

‘So, what do you want me to do?’

‘Sir, we must protest and bring these facts to the Chief’s notice. The Nepal desk may not have given a complete and true picture of our potential to perform. The fault actually lies with headquarters and not with us,’ Awasthy argued. ‘We have been sending reports regularly but they seldom utilize our inputs and routinely blame us for submitting them after long delays.

Instead of overhauling the communication system to facilitate the quick transmission of inputs from Lucknow and our bordering units, they have opted to shut down the most productive service bureau of the Agency. Sir, they will rue this decision one day. But by then it will be too late to recover lost ground,’ he warned.

Jeevnathan felt that although his deputy had raised valid concerns, his reaction seemed exaggerated.

‘Maybe what you are saying has some merit, but it is too late to raise these issues. The Chief has already signed the bureau’s death warrant and we now have to abide by it. Since I have only recently taken over in Lucknow, I am not in a position to comment on whether you or Naveen are right. I suggest you start working on a plan of how to pull out from our obligations to long-serving sources and discuss with me the difficulties that field units may face in disengaging from them. In case you think that you have assets who must be retained, please give reasons,’ Jeev advised.

Awasthy didn’t know what more to say. He got up and quietly left.

Back in his room, he slumped in his chair. He suspected that Jeevnathan had been sent to Lucknow with a specific brief to carry out the ESB’s demolition. After twenty-five years of postings to difficult and faraway places, he had finally managed to come to Lucknow to look after his ageing parents and construct a house, which was now almost complete.

Only six months ago, his wife had joined a government school as the principal. His son, a banker, who had moved from Delhi to live with them, had gotten engaged only last week and the wedding was planned for six months later, when the house would be ready. Now all his careful plans seemed to be in danger of falling apart.

He was stressed throughout the day, wondering how he would break the news to his family. He cancelled all his source meetings, but shared nothing on the station’s imminent closure with his junior colleagues. As he was getting ready to leave the office in the evening, Jeev summoned him.

‘I have just received a letter from headquarters. It outlines a detailed plan on how we are to proceed. I didn’t expect it to arrive so fast. Apparently Naveen is in a great hurry to shut down the bureau. Have a look at it. You may understand their plan of action better,’ Jeev said and handed him the document.

Awasthy took it and left. The more he interacted with Jeev, the more he became convinced that Jeev was a collaborator to headquarters’ decision, for he neither betrayed anger nor seemed upset with what Prateek thought was a crazy move.

At home, when he finally broke the news to his family members over dinner, they took it with equanimity. His wife reassured him that they would manage, as they always did. Awasthy could move to wherever the Agency posted him next, while she would stay on in Lucknow to look after the family.

Jeevnathan took a day to reflect over the developments. If the operational performance of the ESB was really as bad as Naveen made it out to be, then it would be best if he wound up the bureau as soon as possible and left, he decided.

The first thing he did the following morning was send out a message to all the officers in charge of the various sub-bureaus, instructing them to come in for a meeting the following Sunday. He wanted to meet them as a group since he would not have the time to meet with them individually and ascertain their difficulties in implementing headquarters’ decision. He then left for the airport to receive his wife and daughter, Adya.