IN EARLY SPRING 2010, a few of the most powerful men in the Indian
security establishment sat down for a special meeting at the Ministry of
Home Affairs in New Delhi. The list of participants had been deliberately
kept to a minimum to ensure there would be no leaks: the head of Indias
external intelligence agency, the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW), KC
Verma; the Home Secretary, GK Pillai; and the director of the Intelligence
Bureau (IB), Rajiv Mathur, along with one of his officers.
This gathering was not the routine morning meeting that P Chidambaram
had instituted when he took over the home ministry in November 2008
an hour-long daily briefing on intelligence and internal security with the
director of Intelligence Bureau (DIB), the national security adviser (NSA),
the home secretary and the chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee.
(The R&AW chief, who bears the cabinet title Secretary (Research) rarely
attends meetings at the home ministry.) Chidambaram was not invited to
this meeting, and there was only one item on the agenda: the Bureau had
discovered a mole inside the Indian High Commission in Pakistan.
A few weeks earlier, the DIB had informed the home secretary that the
Intelligence Bureau had placed an Indian diplomat in Islamabad under
surveillance after suspicions had arisen that she was passing classified
material to Pakistani intelligence. Nothing was recorded in writing, and the
details of the operation had not been shared with anyone outside the IB.
It is not uncommon for government officials with access to strategic
information, inside the country and at missions abroad, to be put under
counterintelligence surveillance for a few weeks, or even months, at a
time; in most cases, nothing turns up. But in this case, the suspicion
persisted as the investigation continued, and news of the spy in
Islamabad made its way from Pakistan to the desk of the DIB.
It had been less than a year and a half since Pakistani terrorists killed
more than 160 people in a bloody attack on Mumbai that unfolded live on
television for three excruciating days and deeply embarrassed the Indian
intelligence establishment. The insistent calls for war in the wake of the
attack had faded, but India was still seething, and another intelligence
failure would inflict grave damage to the battered reputations of IB and
R&AW.
According to a person privy to the details of the meeting, Mathur told Pillai
and Verma that IB was almost certain there was indeed a mole inside the
added that she had also attempted to implicate another Indian officiala
man named Sanjay Mathur, who had been the chief IB officer in Pakistan,
and whom Gupta alleged had introduced her to the sources in Pakistani
intelligence. But there was no evidence against him, Sood said.
During her interrogation, Sood continued, she admitted that the email
account had been created for her by Mubshar Raza Rana, identified in the
charge sheet as one of two officials of Pakistani intelligence agencies to
whom she had sent information, after being introduced to Rana and
another man, identified only as Jamshed, by a Pakistani journalist named
Javed Rasheed, early in 2009. She told them everything she knew, or
could find, Sood said. When I asked him about the nature of the
information she had disclosed, he said she had blown the covers of all the
Indian intelligence officials in Pakistan, disclosed biographical details for
every employee at the High Commission, and also mentioned the
existence of some secret routes to India.
But Guptas lawyer, Joginder Dahiya, was one of several people who
suggested that the contents of the emails were distinctly unsensational.
These emails are the backbone of their case, Dahiya told me. But what
is in those emails? Its trivial stuff. Though she had been given the
designation of a second secretary in the High Commission, this was
essentially an acknowledgement of her long service as an IFS grade B
officera second-tier rank of the foreign service that consists of support
staff for the higher-ranking IFS cadre. As a translator, her duties
consisted of monitoring the Urdu media; she was responsible for
preparing two daily dossiers summarising and interpreting developments
from the Urdu press. In other words, information flowed from Gupta to
the senior staff, and not in the other direction.
During my interviews with more than a half-dozen former R&AW and IB
chiefs, and another half-dozen retired secretary-level intelligence officials,
there was unanimous skepticism regarding the gravity of the information
Gupta had allegedly leaked. B Raman, a former additional secretary in
R&AW, pointed to Guptas position as a second secretary in the
information and press division, suggesting that she would not have any
access to classified information. I have seen what kind of work these
guys do, Raman said. One former head of R&AW responded similarly,
arguing that while Gupta was made to look like the spy of the century,
she could not have passed anything but very low-end type stuff. A
Member of Parliament who had visited the High Commission since Guptas
arrest said that when he had inquired about the case, he was likewise
informed that she had no access to substantial information, and therefore
her disclosures had caused minimal damage.
From these accounts, the information Gupta is accused of leaking to
Pakistani intelligence seemed to fit with what B Raman had separately
described to me as Whisky-Soda conversationwhos who in the High
Commission, whos coming and whos going; essentially, gossip and
administrative details of the sort that might be exchanged over dinner or
drinks. Leaked information, Raman explained, could be classified into
three categories of escalating severity: whiskey-soda talk, official reports
and documents, and worst of all, cipher codes, which would allow a rival
agency to obtain access to encrypted communications. Along similar lines,
numerous former retired officers of IB and R&AW described a hierarchical
classification of possible sources: acquaintances and friends, casual or
regular contacts, casual or regular sources, and finally full-scale assets.
Though an acquaintance might share low-level information of the whiskysoda variety, access to classified material or cipher codes typically
involves a full-scale asset, who would be compensated accordingly for his
services.
A person who passes information to another intelligence agency, I was
told by one former IB officer, can do so knowingly or unknowingly,
wittingly or unwittingly, and willingly or unwillingly. And to knowingly,
wittingly and willingly reveal secret information to an enemy state
requires strong incentives. Money is the most common and effective
motivation, another former R&AW chief told me, but sex, blackmail,
revenge and ideology are also strong players. Sex, he added, is often a
hook that leads in turn to blackmail, which can be used as leverage to
extract further information.
In terms of the above classifications, the charge sheet depicts Gupta as a
full-scale asset who passed sensitive official informationand her
motivation, according to the prosecutions case, was love. They threw a
young man at her and she got trapped, Pankaj Sood said. One of Guptas
two handlers, known only as Jamshed, was a younger man, about 30,
whose job was to romance the older single woman, and thereby obtain
information from the High Commission. The main thing is, she was
caught in a honeytrap. Thats it, Sood concluded.
To this end, the charge sheet contains the contents of only one email
allegedly sent by Gupta, dated 3 October 2009, which is intended to
provide evidence of her romantic entanglement. It is a message from
Javeria to SultanaGupta and her handler Rana, according to the
prosecutionthat laments the end of her relationship with Jim,
supposedly an alias for Jamshed.
I know that you tried your best and I shall always remember your
kindness, the email begins:
but its final goodbye to all of you because Jim has also said his final
goodbye to me. He has a lot of complaints against me that he is under
a lot of pressure but I am doing nothing for him; that I do what I
want, that I dont listen to him; I have changed and I am bewafa
[disloyal], and so on. I have done my best for him and for his sake
but he treats me like a dog. He has position. Till we are married and
till I am in the present job I have to behave and live accordingly but
Jim has strong objection to my socializing with any Pakistani. Why
does he have such a poor opinion of his own people? In any job that I
take up this attitude of Jim will be a big hurdle. I am not used to just
sitting at home in purdah. After marriage he will neither socialize
himself nor let me socialize with anyone.
lawyer had suggested. I cant confirm it, he said, and I cant deny it.
THREE
ABOUT TWO WEEKS after the first sensational stories of Guptas arrest
began to appear in the media at the end of April 2010, two high-ranking
retired officials from the MEA and R&AW hinted publicly that the torrent of
information leaked to the media was far out of proportion to the
significance of the case. We normally dont talk about such things, the
former R&AW chief Vikram Sood told a national newspaper. I am
surprised by the hype surrounding this case. We are making a spectacle of
ourselves in front of the world. In the same article, G Parthasarthy, the
former high commissioner in Pakistan, directly raised the prospect that
the media reports were evidence of a turf war between the Indian
intelligence agencies. The leaks were unseemly and unnecessary.
Theyve left a clear impression that this was a case of IB and R&AW trying
to settle scores with each other.
All of the former intelligence officials I spoke withincluding the retired
R&AW and IB chiefsconfirmed that there have been occasional
outbreaks of conflict between the two agencies, though every man was
quick to add that this was hardly a phenomenon unique to India, usually
by citing the well-publicised disputes between the American Federal
Bureau of Investigation and Central Intelligence Agency. These things
happen, I was told by a retired high-level home ministry bureaucrat, who
said that when R&AW and IB officers come face-to-face overseas, bitter
rivalries sometimes result. Maybe one guy is smarter than the other
guyhe gets more information. The other guy doesnt get as much, so
then his boss might call up and say, The other agency tells me all this is
happening, but you havent given me a thing. After you get a few of
these calls, you might go to the other guys turf to get the information
next time.
One former R&AW chief, who stressed that turf wars between IB and
R&AW were not widespread, said they were usually caused by competition
over informationor the sources who provide it. Officers in the field, he
said, are protective, or even possessive, of the sources theyve cultivated;
if one guy feels his agent is being threatened by the other guy, a fight
may break out. Sometimes there can be clashes, he said. In an ideal
situation, it should not happen.
Another retired R&AW official, however, insisted that conflicts of this sort
were far more common than the intelligence chiefs admit. These things
happen very often, he told me. There are hundreds of cases. The
synergy in the outside missions is just not there. It was a conflict of
precisely this sort, he said, that had transpired at the High Commission in
Islamabadand which led, after Guptas arrest, to the leaks that blew RK
Sharmas cover. It was a turf war, and there was a problem, the official
told me. Gupta was working under RK Sharma, but that was it. He never
involved her in any of his operations. This guy Sanjay Mathur wanted to
implicate Sharmahe said that Gupta was some sort of conduit between
summarily denied. By the time he filed for another visa a few months
after returning from his post-26/11 trip, a new high commissioner,
Sharath Sabharwal, had arrived in Islamabadand his friend Mathur had
been prematurely called back to India, five months before his anticipated
departure and without any successor in place. The reason for Mathurs
unexpected exit was openly discussed inside the High Commission,
according to two sources who were then posted in Islamabad: Mathur,
they said, had been sexually involved with his domestic help, a young
Pakistani woman. Mathurs lapse rendered him vulnerable to exploitation
by Pakistani intelligencefatally compromising his continued service to
the IB in Islamabad. Shortly after Sabharwal arrived, Mathur confessed,
and was promptly sent back to India.
Mathur has since been returned to his IPS cadre in Tamil Nadu, where he
was appointed police commissioner of Madurai earlier this year. Contacted
by phone, Mathur confirmed that he had been posted in Pakistan until
April 2009, but declined to comment further; he did not respond to
subsequent interview requests. Several of the former R&AW and IB chiefs
told me that it was rare for an intelligence officer to be remanded back to
their cadre. Without commenting directly on Mathurs case, the former
intelligence heads, who used words like uncommon and unusual,
suggested that similar movesparticularly for an officer previously
deemed fit for a sensitive post like Pakistanwere usually a form of
punishment or an acknowledgement that the officer had lost the trust or
confidence of the agency.
In the wake of Mathurs sudden departure, which left the IB without a
presence at the High Commission, his position as head of the press and
information wing was filled by one of the missions junior R&AW officers,
who had been working under Sharma in the economic division. It was
around this time that Javed Rasheeds repeated visa requests began to be
met with unfavourable replies. The Indian High Commission refuses to
even comment why I am not getting a visa, Rasheed told me. The R&AW
officers in the high commission apparently saw no reason to repeat the
efforts Mathur had made on Rasheeds behalf; perhaps Mathurs
unceremonious farewell had cast doubt on his erstwhile contacts. But if
the IB had indeed considered Rasheed a worthwhile source, he had now
been completely cut off.
When Mathurs replacement from the IB finally arrived in Islamabad in
October 2009, he was not given the post occupied by his predecessor atop
the press and information wing, and was instead assigned to a role under
Sharma in the economic division. (Though a few of the retired R&AW and
IB chiefs suggested that the occasional rotation of diplomatic covers was
not necessarily uncommon, most suggested that it was conventional for a
new officer to fill the role held by the person they replace.) By this point,
the turf war inside the High Commission mentioned by multiple retired
senior intelligence officials was under way, and R&AW appeared to have
the upper hand.
It is still not clear when suspicions about Madhuri Guptas conduct were
first raised inside the High Commission. But the investigation of her
activities, which was conducted by the IB, must have begun between
October 2009, when a new IB officer arrived to fill the agencys vacancy in
Islamabad, and early 2010, when Rajiv Mathur, the DIB, first presented
its preliminary conclusions to the R&AW chief and home secretary inside
North Block a few weeks before Guptas arrest.
This case was the IBs baby, a retired senior R&AW official said, and his
agency was kept out of the loop until the very endwhen they were
shocked to see the name of their top man in Pakistan muddied and
spattered all over the news.
FOUR
ON A CHILLY WINTER MORNING in Delhi two days before Christmas in
2009, the home minister, P Chidambaram, took the stage in the Plenary
Hall of Vigyan Bhawan to deliver the 22nd annual Intelligence Bureau
Centenary Endowment Lecture. The 1,200-seat hall was filled to capacity
with senior police officers from every state in the country, bureaucrats of
joint secretary rank and above, and a number of parliamentarians and
cabinet ministers. The national security adviser, MK Narayanan, and the
DIB, Rajiv Mathur, were seated on the stage next to Chidambaram.
In slightly more than a year since taking up his new portfolio in the
aftermath of 26/11, Chidambaram had moved aggressively to overhaul
the home ministry, trumpeting his determination to build a strong central
security apparatus. In his speech, whose title promised A New
Architecture for Indias Security, Chidambaram unveiled his plan to
implement a sweeping reorganisation and centralisation of the countrys
intelligence services, under the supervision of a newly-created National
Counter Terrorism Centre (NCTC).
The proposed NCTC, whose logical and natural place would be under the
Ministry of Home Affairs, would assume full responsibility over a handful
of smaller agencies, while the positioning of R&AW, the Aviation and
Research Centre and the Central Bureau of Investigation would have to be
re-examined, such that they too came at least partially under the
oversight of the NCTC. The disposition of the IB, already under the
supervision of the home minister, was conspicuously not discussed. It is
my fervent plea, Chidambaram added, that this should not result in turf
wars.
Chidambarams speech, however, was itself the latest and most audacious
salvo in a turf war of his ownand it was unquestionably acknowledged
as such by his rival combatant, MK Narayanan. After sitting through a
lecture spiked with thinly veiled criticism of his own leadership, which also
proposed to radically diminish the NSAs role in security policy, Narayanan
resolutely walked out of the event he had helped to establish in 1987
during his stint heading the Intelligence Bureau. The walkout was first
reported a month later in The Telegraph, which characterised it as an
undisguised revolt by the NSA against the home minister, the culmination
of months-long sparring between two of the most powerful men on
Raisina Hill.
For many months, the report continued, Chidambaram had slowly and
steadily encroached on Narayanans turf. But the NSAs silent revolt
came far too late. By the end of January 2010, Narayanan had been
vanquished to Raj Bhavan in Kolkata, and replaced by Shivshankar
Menon, a career diplomat whose status as an outsider to the intelligence
apparatus made him a far less formidable rival to Chidambaram.
Before Narayanans removal, a Congress MP said, there was a huge turf
war in the current government, with Chidambaram trying to take the
entire internal security architecture under his winga campaign that
culminated with the proposed creation of the NCTC.
When he became home minister in 2008, Chidambaram had introduced a
daily hour-long briefing on security issues, which he chaired, to increase
coordination and share intelligence between agencies. Narayanan
resented what he saw as Chidambarams move to appoint himself as
intelligence czar; the home minister, by contrast, sought to portray
Narayanans unwillingness to participate as an attempt to avoid
accountability and guard his own turf. A retired high-level home ministry
bureaucrat told me that Narayanan felt he was entitled to keep his
distance from the home ministry. He preferred to exercise his powers
from the back room, the bureaucrat said. When he came into the front
room, he had to say yes or no; from the back room, you can do things
and not be held accountable.
This was the old way of doing things that Chidambaram sought to sweep
away while bringing the intelligence architecture under his ministry. But
Narayanan had come up through this system over several decades:
shutting down the back room was essential for Chidambaram, because it
would deny Narayanan the upper hand. Though the home minister
controlled the IB, Narayanan had been its director, and his deep contacts
inside the agency made it easy to bypass Chidambaram. He had a whole
lot of people in the IB who were his subordinates, the retired bureaucrat
said. You know people by their first names, you can pick up the phone
and get information directly.
Menon, he said, was focused on the big picture and avoided the nittygritty, unlike Narayanan. But then, if you have always been doing the
nitty-gritty for 35 years, then even if you go out [from intelligence] you
want to keep doing thatyou dont want to give the elbow room to the
new bosses.
However unfair, the bureaucrats dig at Narayanan may capture a few
essential traits of the intelligence community he inhabited: resistance to
change, hostility to oversight and a commitment to infighting. For two
decades after Independence, the IB, which had been inherited from the
Raj, was the countrys only civilian intelligence agency, responsible for
both domestic and international espionage. Its notable lack of success in
the latter department, widely exposed during the 1962 India-China war,
led Indira Gandhi to bifurcate the bureau six years later at the urging of
her influential principal secretary, PN Haksar.
The history of infighting between IB and R&AW dates back to the birth of
the younger agency. RN Kao, the revered first chief of R&AW, sparred
with his counterpart atop the IB, MML Hoojaand within five years of its
founding, R&AW could claim victory in the first turf war between the two,
after Kao used his considerable influence with Indira Gandhi to have Hooja
removed.
The executive order establishing R&AW gave its chief the designation of
secretary to the Government of India, answerable only to the prime
minister. The R&AW chief had unchecked administrative and operational
powers: he could create any post he thought was necessary, and recruit
any person he wished to fill it, without any effective oversight. What his
right hand created, his left hand nurtured, and R&AW quickly earned a
reputation for nepotism, cronyism and corruption; before long it was
being called the Relatives and Associates Wing.
According to an intelligence expert at the Institute for Defence Studies
and Analyses (IDSA), a government think-tank, the birth of R&AW led
directly to efforts by the IB to expand its own authority as well. Once
R&AW had been created without the administrative structures that bound
the IB, the IDSA expert said, the IB chiefs sought to emulate the example
of their counterparts. The power of R&AW tempted IB to become a clone
of R&AW, he said. Before R&AW came into being, the director had
operational independence, but after R&AW he began to have financial
independence as well, and then the IB became an empire like R&AW.
Both IB and R&AW, in fact, exist in a legal grey area: neither agency was
created by an act of Parliament, and there is no law or statute that
enumerates their powers and responsibilities, or gives constitutional
sanction to their activities. The absence of a statutory basis has several
consequences, but the simplest one is that it renders both agencies
essentially exempt from legal and parliamentary accountability.
The funding for the intelligence agencies is shrouded in secrecy. The
retired intelligence chiefs all declined to answer questions on this matter:
a few noted the figure was officially secret, while others insisted even they
had no idea about the actual amountthough as one said, There was
never a lack of funds.
The overall spending for both agencies can be divided into two portions:
budgeted expenditures, which cover regular administrative needs like
salaries and logistics; and secret service funds, presumably far larger,
which cover anything else deemed to be involved in intelligence
operations.
In the case of IB, the planned expenditures are allocated directly from the
home ministry and listed in the governments annual budget. (This years
official figure is R10.73 billion.) For R&AW, however, the budgeted
The MEA officials I contacted were unwilling to discuss what had taken
place at the High Commission in Islamabad, particularly the charges
against Madhuri Gupta. When I called Ashok Tomar, the complainant in
the case and a special secretary at MEA, he responded with evident
displeasure, and insisted that I could not even report that he had declined
to speak. (All of this is non-attributable, he said.) Rahul Kulshreshth,
who served as the deputy high commissioner in Islamabad during this
period, flatly declared that he was now working in a different department,
and quickly hung up the phone.
On the second day of Guptas trial, back in March of this year, I arrived
early at the courtroom to discover Gupta sitting on a bench in the corridor
outside, waiting for the hearing to begin. I tried to talk to her once again.
She refused to discuss the case, or anything about her time at the High
Commission in Islamabad, apart from declaring she was innocent, but
allowed me to sit next to her and ask a few questions.
Prior to her assignment in Pakistan, she said, she had been posted in Iraq,
Liberia, Malaysia and Croatia. Immediately before moving to Islamabad,
she had been sent to the Indian Council of World Affairs in Delhi to serve
as an assistant director. She completed her MA History from Delhi
University about 10 years earlier; now she was pursuing her PhD, on what
she called the emergence of political systems in medieval Rajasthan,
under the famous historian BD Chattopadhyaya. It was her academic
work, Gupta explained, that led to her learning Urduwhich in turn led to
her posting in Pakistan. It was a desirable post, she said, because it was
not too far away from home; during her time in Islamabad, she frequently
made visits back to Delhi, usually driving by herself along the Grand
Trunk Road through the border at Wagah. While we talked, Gupta was
chewing tobacco; the women in her family, she told me, have had this
habit for generations.
She lives alone, she said, in a house built by her parents in the late
1970s. Her mother and father had been teachers, but were both
deceased; she has one brother, who lives with his family in the United
States. Though her status as a single woman in her 50s had frequently
been mentioned in news reports, most often to suggest her vulnerability
to the charms of young Pakistani spies, she said she had never felt the
need to marry. I loved my work, she told me. I didnt marry because I
was so happy with my job. This was marriage for me. As she discussed
her work in the foreign servicewhich she would presumably not rejoin,
even if acquittedGupta went quiet. After about 10 seconds, I heard her
sniff, and then noticed a few tears roll down her cheeks. She quickly
regained her composure and apologised. A few minutes later, another
journalist walked over to ask her some questions, and I got up to walk
into the courtroom for the start of the hearing.
The next time I saw Gupta was two months later, when her trial resumed
on 6 June. She politely said hello, but it was clear she had no further
interest in talking. This was the third hearing in her case. Three witnesses
from MEA named in the charge sheet, including Ashok Tomarfrom
whose office Gupta had been arrestedwere now present in the court
after having skipped the first two dates. A few minutes before the
proceedings began, Tomar spotted me taking notes, and told the head
constable on duty that any journalists should be removed. At this point,
the judge declared that the hearing would proceed in camera, and cleared
everyone from the room.