Goodbye, Snoopy

Prabhakaran was a great survivor and was never wounded, not even a shrapnel scratch from the hundreds of ambushes he survived, notably when the IPKF came within a whisker of his hideout in Alampil jungles in 1988.
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by Ashok K Mehta

(June 09, New Delhi, Sri Lanka Guardian) Everyone knows about Velupillai Prabhakaran’s military prowess and daring: How he defied and even taunted the Sri Lankan Army during Operation Liberation in 1987, ran rings around the IPKF in the Mullaithivu jungles and repeated outstanding feats of operational success, including the capture of Elephant Pass in 2000. Prabhakaran’s legendary bravery earned his Tigers the sobriquet of ‘invincible’. In the end he fell as an ordinary mortal.

The other great fighter was our dog Snoopy. But before him was another soldier, Snoopy, of Bakarwal breed who served with me in the higher reaches of Pir Panjal in Jammu & Kashmir. On this page I have written about this Snoopy, who served with full military honours on the LoC in the Balnoi sector between 1963 and 1975. He was a true fighter and kept vigil outside the picket with Gorkhas, Sikhs and Rajputs, whoever came after we Gorkhas left. He saved many lives by detecting booby traps, barking early warnings and sniffing danger. He was the finest state of the art ‘Identification Friend or Foe’. He lies buried near the Balnoi Post.

The later peacetime Snoopy, a mix between Cocker Spaniel, Golden Retriever and some other undistinguished breed, learnt his tactics and fieldcraft -— as a cat burglar, poacher and marksman — in the green parks of Sarita Vihar in New Delhi and Sector 15 of Noida (which Ms Mayawati later froze into a monstrosity of stone and for which Snoopy never forgave her). He lost all his human and stray friends along with whom he would lay traps for rabbits and squirrels. Violent encounters were with the high pedigree — a Dalmatian once and twice with thoroughbred Labradors -— from which he emerged with flying colours and deep wounds.

Prabhakaran was a great survivor and was never wounded, not even a shrapnel scratch from the hundreds of ambushes he survived, notably when the IPKF came within a whisker of his hideout in Alampil jungles in 1988. Towards the last phase of Eelam War IV, the Sri Lankan Air Force, using precision-guided bombs, missed him twice.

What is common between Prabhakaran, the indomitable guerrilla leader, and Snoopy? They were both inveterate fighters and defied death till the last, hoping that some miracle would save them from the inevitable. After resisting, virtually mocking the Sri Lankan Army for 30 years and the IPKF for 30 months, Prabhakaran was cornered near his stronghold, Mullaithivu, along Nanthikadal lagoon and shot through the head during a futile bid to escape at age 51. Prabhakaran had hoped divine powers — meaning his friends in the West, Norway leading -—would intervene. He prayed that the BJP would win the general election in 2009 and order immediate halt to operations. None of that happened. And he went as an ordinary mortal.

Snoopy lived a full life by comparison. Seventeen years — and I’d hoped he would beat the all-India record in canine longevity of 21 years. That was not to be. On May 19 at precisely 9.42 am he succumbed to the ninth, this one a massive, attack of convulsions and left for his heavenly abode, liberated from the pain of waiting for the miracle to happen. He was battling for life between a Noida veterinary clinic and his Ram Vihar home. I was on my way for the release of my monograph, Sri Lanka’s Ethnic Conflict: How Eelam War IV was Won, by Sri Lanka’s High Commissioner Prasad Kariyawasam. It was precisely one year after the war had ended and Prabhakaran breathed for the last time around the same time Snoopy had.

No one knows how Prabhakaran’s last rites were performed. Probably no one will ever know how his remains were disposed of. Snoopy was buried in Lutyens’ Delhi in one of the leafiest bungalows on Akbar Road, tucked away in one corner of a sprawling lawn under a huge ficus tree. A minor military ceremony preceded the lowering of his chocolate brown corpse into his grave. He went down gallantly, looking as if he was still alive, his grey hair sparkling in the mid-day sun.

In Ram Vihar, Snoopy’s bête noir was Pincher, a Chihuahua. Battles royale were fought between the two. Whenever Snoopy was under the weather he was at his ferocious worst. No one dared approach him as he guarded his nook and corner in a belligerent mood. Requisitioning Pincher’s services to bestir Snoopy from his sulk and fever always worked.

But no one in the B 707 seventh floor flat escaped Snoopy’s wrath. His first assault was on Chutki, his junior female companion whose one eye he took out with a left jab. Others followed in no organised sequence: My wife, our Himachali help, the maid and even the battle-hardened General. Min Bahadur, straight out of a village in Nepal, came to test the hawa and paani of Dilli before trying his hand at becoming a soldier. His battle inoculation was organised by Snoopy on the second day of his arrival. Min Bahadur became Snoopy's best friend.

I got off lightly from a Snoopy counter-attack when I was trying to prevent him from picking up a biscuit from under the sofa, certain that his head would get stuck beneath it. Who saved me was Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw: I was reading the hard-bound edition of his biography by Lt Gen Depinder Singh. Instead of my hand, it was Sam’s face on the cover that bore the brunt of Snoopy’s attack.

Prabhakaran’s last 10 days were dreadful: From a sprawling empire of 30,000 sq km, territory under his control shrank to three sq km and finally the size of a football field. All escape routes had been blocked. His capacity to do the impossible failed him.

No one knew Snoopy would leave so soon and so suddenly. The doctors couldn’t figure out why he was going downhill. He fought back bravely each of the nine attacks over 18 hours till the last massive stroke took his breath away. On the cell phone, en route to the book release, I heard a cry: “He’s gone”.

That’s what the Sri Lankan Army told President Mahinda Rajapaksa (who’s in New Delhi today) about Prabhakaran: “Sir, he’s gone.” Sri Lankans are going out of their way to banish and erase Prabhakaran from their memory. For Snoopy-lovers, memory is all that’s left.