It was the last Christmas season of the 20th century. The airports had not yet begun instructing passengers to remove belts and shoes before check-in, as the Twin Towers had not yet fallen. A simple hand wave would suffice to get one to the boarding area. That was the situation at Kathmandu airport on Christmas Eve 1999, when Indian Airlines flight IC841 departed for Delhi at around 4 p.m.
Forty minutes into the flight, as they were entering Indian airspace, a masked passenger entered the cockpit (yes, it was not a security zone then). Just as a steward entered to serve drinks, the masked passenger put a knife to the steward's throat and announced that the plane had been hijacked. Indian air traffic control was informed; however, the information did not filter down through the chain of command appropriately. Bureaucracy and apathy were to blame. After all, India had just fought a war in Kargil a few months earlier, and security was supposed to be on high alert. Many high-ranking officers, meant to be on top of things, only learned about it from the media.
The hijackers wanted the plane diverted to Lahore, but the Pakistanis outrightly refused landing rights. Even the efforts of the Indian High Commissioner proved futile. With critical fuel levels, IC841 had to land in Amritsar to refuel. The plan was to keep the plane on Indian soil while negotiators struck a deal with the hijackers and potentially incapacitated the machine. Sensing something was amiss, the hijackers fled before refuelling, leaving Indian officials staring at an empty tarmac.
In the meantime, pandemonium was the order of the day on board. Passengers were cowed into submission. Two passengers were stabbed, one fatally. The flight captain pleaded with Lahore to allow the Airbus to land with hardly any fuel. It was again denied. The runway lights were turned off. Only when the pilot was about to land on the national highway did the airport permit landing. Again, Indian representatives failed to arrive on time to negotiate. After refuelling, the plane left Lahore.
Now, the hijackers wanted to go to Kandahar in Afghanistan. As we remember, Afghanistan in 1999 was a pariah state, ruled by a ruthless Taliban administration. Many countries, including India, did not recognise its government. Kandahar Airport could not handle night landings, as it did not have the necessary facilities, so the hijackers' request was denied. IC814 was hovering around the Arabian Sea, hoping any Gulf states could take them in. They stopped at a Dubai airbase and refuelled in exchange for 27 hostages, including the 2 stabbed passengers, with one dead and left for Afghanistan.
The plane finally landed in Kandahar on Christmas morning. The next seven days involved intense negotiations. The process proved complex, as India did not recognise the Taliban government. Therefore, it could not send its representatives there and depended on the Indian High Commission in Islamabad and the United Nations. Mediation was complicated with the Taliban since they were not in total control. Osama Bin Laden and ISIS also ruled over a large part of the country, having a say in the running of Afghanistan.
The dilemma faced by the Indian government and its agencies was how to balance giving too much to the terrorists while ensuring the safe return of the passengers.
For the safe return of passengers, three dangerous terrorists in Indian jails had to be released. The five hijackers were never captured. The released terrorists (Masood Azhar, Omar Sheikh, and Mushtaq Zargar) were later found to be instrumental in many terror activities in India and around the world. The eternal question is whether releasing these nearly 200 passengers in exchange for freeing the three infamous criminals was worthwhile. The criminals ended up killing many more innocent people, causing immense destruction, and being the catalyst for all the chaos we face in the world today. In 1999, with tremendous pressure from the media and the public, making a deal with the hijackers seemed like the most logical thing to do.
Since this web series was released, Netflix has faced significant backlash. The authorities summoned even the Netflix Head of India to address specific queries. The general Indian public has been outraged over two issues. Firstly, intelligence investigations into the entire incident suggested that the whole hostage event was orchestrated by the ISI of Pakistan. The ISI's fingerprints were evident in the planning and execution of the act. Nowhere in the series were the ISI or Pakistan depicted as the antagonists.
Secondly, it is common knowledge that religion provided an essential foundation for the hijacking. The hijackers were all Muslims, and their demand was the release of Islamic extremists. In the eyes of viewers, the filmmakers downplayed this fact. The hijackers' religion was obscured by the use of their codenames throughout. Surprisingly, Bhola and Shankar openly refer to Lord Shiva, the Lord of destruction, while the other codenames—Doc, Chief, and Burger—were secular. Are they attempting to convey to the unassuming, ignorant audience that the hijackers were part of the Hindu terrorism that the opposition to the BJP's rule is trying to promote? Later, Netflix published a disclaimer listing the hijackers' full names in the credits, but this notice was only provided for the Indian audience. The rest of the world can continue believing that the whole incident was part of the Hindu terror that the leftists are propagating. When their co-conspirators were changed, the court documents mentioned the hijackers' codenames as one of their many aliases.
Additionally, the series attempts to humanise the terrorists. Picture the hijacker offering a concerned flight attendant his phone so she can call and check on her sick father in Delhi. In another scene, a romantic connection between a stewardess and one of the hijackers is suggested. After witnessing two passengers being stabbed before their eyes, it seems unreasonable to depict, in one scene, the passengers and hijackers clapping and singing together in a game of antakshari. (It's too early for Stockholm Syndrome to settle in, right?)
The producers claim the entire offering is based on actual events and have no qualms about using footage from yesteryears. Yet they thought it was essential to change the names of the airline crew and the government officials. ISI comes out squeaky clean from this whole fiasco. They bask in depicting a grossly incompetent bunch of bumbling Indian bureaucrats awkwardly trying to defuse a volatile situation. Anyway, the experience of handling such situations was lacking in that era. The director failed to show urgency in their efforts, some of which are even comical.
Furthermore, the event occurred in a hostile foreign land, unrecognised by the government of the day. Is it a coincidence that the ruling coalition then was the same one ruling today? What are they implying—that the present government is also weak?
** The 2001 Indian Parliament attack, the 2002 kidnapping and murder of Daniel Pearl, the 2008 Mumbai attacks, the 2016 Pathankot attack, and the 2019 Pulwama attack. Azhad later founded Jaish-e-Muhammed (JeM) in 2000, which gained notoriety for the deaths of hundreds of people and armed forces personnel. Sheikh was arrested in 2002 in Pakistan for Daniel Pearl's abduction and murder, and played a role in planning the September 2001 attacks in the U.S. Zargar has actively trained Islamic militants in Pakistan-administered Jammu & Kashmir.
Also, the story's production value needed to be more compelling. The urgency felt by the hostages' fear and apprehension was not adequately transferred to the screen, and the desperation of the whole event was not palpable.
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