Dhaka, in all official accounts of the 1965 War, saw no action. But that’s not entirely true. Not every battle is fought with guns and tanks, by fighting men. And 1965 was no exception. This is the story of one such battle between a woman and the grim representatives of a nation at war with her own. And all she had on her side were her 10-year-old son, a cook, a radio, an envelope of cash — and faith.

For Gayatri Ray , the 50th year commemorations, the full-page ads of valorous battles, the TV discussions with former soldiers, all have a distant yet familiar echo. For, 1965 was a very personal war for her. One in which there was both fear and fortitude, and finally… not death, but a birth.

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In late August 1965, her husband Ashok Kumar Ray , then deputy high commissioner (DHC) in Dhaka — and therefore the highest-ranking Indian in East Pakistan — returned to India for consultations as Pakistan’s ‘Operation Gibraltar’ was in motion across the LoC. A week’s absence stretched to an entire war.

Dhaka was peaceful when he left, and she continued the quotidian routine of a diplomat’s wife. Till a thwarted Pakistan launched ‘Operation Grand Slam’ on September 1, which had a ripple effect in Dhaka, 2,500km to the east.

As India retaliated by crossing the international border in Punjab on September 6, Emergency was declared in Pakistan, and 450 or so Indians in the Deputy High Commission in Dhaka were rounded up and stuffed into 5-6 houses. They were kinder to the DHC’s wife: she was incarcerated in her own house, with her son and cook. But there was a complication: she was heavily pregnant.

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With the baby due in two weeks, she had no doctor, no medicines and no idea where the baby would be born — or indeed if it would survive the ordeal. For, being ‘The Enemy’ meant no rights. The troops who surrounded her house had certainly never heard of the 1949 Geneva Convention.

Her first thought, however, was of India. She had to carry out a duty all diplomats and their families knew: destroy the cipher code books so that the enemy cannot access secret Indian communications. Luckily, the books were in a safe in the house and she did it that first night, taking care the soldiers did not get wind of it. The desolation of her immediate situation dawned on her soon after. No money, no food. What would they live on?

Miraculously, an envelope full of money was brought by a gruff soldier; it had been thoughtfully left by her friends, the wives of western diplomats who had been flown out of the war zone.

Her only contact with the outside world — window to the war — was a transistor radio. But the reports by BBC and VOA were far from reassuring. It seemed that neither side was getting the better of the other. It took tremendous willpower to just stay calm and strong, and tell her unborn baby to hold on too.

The Pakistanis offered their doctor; she repeatedly refused and demanded to see her American doctor. That stand-off continued for a nerve-wracking 20 days. The Pakistanis relented when told of a possible international furore if anything untoward happened.

So they asked her to avail of an RAF plane that would evacuate British nationals to Singapore. Reluctantly, she agreed and was finally allowed to go to Dr Grey (an American nun whose given name was Sister Luke), the Ob-Gyn at the Holy Family hospital. The baby, miraculously, was doing okay even though there had been no medical exam for nearly three weeks. Only then she told Dr Grey of her fears…

What would she do once in Singapore, where she knew no one? Dr Grey handed her a note and said, “Give this to any cabbie, and he will drive you to our hospital there. They will take care of everything. Stay strong and pray so that the baby is not born till you’re safe. God will listen.”

Armed with that note, and divine reassurance, she came back to pack a single suitcase and wait for the call, with her son. The whole day passed before the Pakistan Army escort arrived to take them to the airport. She turned to her old friend, the radio, for a final update… And heard the announcement of the ceasefire — it was September 23.

She put down her suitcase and refused to go. The war was over, they could not make her go anywhere, she said resolutely. Try as they might, they couldn’t get her on that flight. But nor was she allowed access to Dr Grey. Illegally, they denied her that facility for another 23 days — till her husband returned.

As ‘violations’ continued even after the official ceasefire, DHC Ray could only return on October 15 – via Singapore, as direct flights had not resumed. His wife went into labour a day later, which continued till October 18 when she gave birth to a girl. That, serendipitously, was St Luke’s Day, a special day for Sister Luke/Dr Grey.

Historians may quibble about who won in 1965 war , but it was a victory in Dhaka for one steely-willed Indian lady.

