Key Points:
Damayanti Tambay has been fighting for the return of her husband Bijay for more than 50 years.
He has been missing since the 1971 Indo-Pak War, but no effort has been made to bring him back.
Damayanti was a national badminton champion who retired at the peak of her career to fight to bring her husband home.
In 1971, Flight Lieutenant Vijay Tambay was shot down while carrying out a strike deep inside Pakistan. Today, more than 50 years later, Damayanti Tambay is still waiting for her husband’s return.
The pair married in April 1970. Damayanti Subedar, 21-years-old at the time, was a national level badminton champion. Vijay Tambay, 27-years-old, was an Indian fighter pilot. The marriage was arranged and respectable – the daughter of a lawyer and son of an IAS officer – but that doesn’t mean it was any less passionate. Their relationship was full of loving notes and romantic gestures. Damayanti recalls how Vijay would pick her up in a bottle-green fiat, and how she won her last National title under the Tambay name for him. But as full as the union was, it was as short-lived.
In December 1971, twenty months into the marriage, war broke out between India and Pakistan. Vijay was called into service. On 3 December 1971, he and Damayanti drove to a garage in Ambala cantonment to park the Fiat. This was the last time they were to meet. The same night, he and his squadron shipped out to Amritsar, while Damayanti took shelter in a trench near her house in case of a bombing.
She recalls the two nights she spent in the trench, with gunfire echoing around, sirens piercing her ears, and dogfights taking place above. On 5 December 1971, some officers told her to head back home. Thinking that is what Vijay would have wanted, she boarded a train and by the next day she back at her parents’ house in Allahabad.
Her first night back, 6 December 1971, Damayanti was flipping through radio stations when she heard the news. Radio Pakistan was making an announcement on Indian pilots that had been captured by the army. Among the names called out was Flt. Lt. Tambay.
Vijay was a part of Squadron 32 of the Indian Air Force. Flying under Squad Leader VK Bhatia, Vijay was part of a two-man mission to strike Shorkot Airbase in West Pakistan. The mission was carried out on December 5. Vijay ran two attack runs on the base. The first ran clean, but for the second, Vijay decided to fly lower to inflict greater damage. Catching flak from an anti-aircraft gun, his aircraft caught fire and Vijay quickly ejected. That same day, The Pakistan Observer published a report that five Indian pilots had been captured, among them was one ‘Flt Lt Tombay’.
On 8 December 1971, the Indian government sent a telegram to Damayanti, confirming that her husband was ‘missing-in-action’. Her first reaction, she says to The Telegraph, was of relief. “I thought since he is captured, he is out of danger. And as a prisoner of war, sooner or later, he would be sent home. There was never any doubt that he will come back.”
But as time would go on, Damayanti’s hope would fade. In 1972, after the war, when India and Pakistan agreed to exchange Prisoners of War (POWs), Vijay’s name did not make it onto the list. The Indian army, in fact, already presumed him dead and would even go on to list him as ‘killed-in-action’. But Damayanti held out. Over time her hope would fade, but her will never did.
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She retired from badminton even though she was at the peak of her career, instead dedicating her life to bringing back her husband. Damayanti came from a sports family – both her parents were players, as were her siblings. In fact, ex-Indian cricket captain, Rahul Dravid, was her first cousin. She herself has said that, growing up she was happiest when playing badminton. She had had a flourishing career as a badminton player, having played both nationally and internationally. She was a three-time national champion when she retired, having played her most recent match in Hyderabad, 1971 – her husband’s hometown.
In November 1972, with no other means to support herself, she began work as a sports officer at Jawaharlal Nehru University, a day after receiving the Arjuna Award for exemplary sports performance. Though she played one final tournament in 1974, Damayanti would spend the rest of her life as a coach and manager, but not player. One needs a strong mind to give their best, she said, and her mind was in turmoil ever since Vijay’s disappearance.
Throughout the 1970s, she pressured politicians and army officials for news of her husband. That was the entire reason she chose to work at JNU in the first place, so she could be close enough to the political seat of power. Over time, hope of finding her husband flickered on and off.
When Pakistan released footage of all the captives it had taken in the war, she combed through every second, hoping to catch a glimpse of Vijay, but to no avail. Returned POWs recalled a prisoner by the name of Tambay, but their accounts could never be verified. In 1972, Time magazine published a story on Major AK Ghosh, an Indian army leader who had been declared dead, but was actually being housed in a Pakistani prison. In 1979, a book by a BBC journalist revealed that 40 Indian POWs were still lodged in Pakistani jail, a claim later confirmed by the Indian government. Following this revelation, the Missing Personnel Relatives Association (MPRA) was formed by family members who believed their kin to be amongst the 40, including Damayanti.
Damayanti’s biggest complaint was with the government, claiming that it was not acting with enough urgency and care. In 1983, in a bid to boost relations, Pakistan allowed the MPRA to visit their prisons to search for their relatives, on the condition that Pakistani officials be allowed to do the same. But a day before the scheduled meeting, a report revealed that the Indian government had gone back on its word, prompting Pakistan to send the delegation back without meeting even a single Indian POW.
The next big flicker came in 1989, when Vijay’s uncle, Jayant Jathar, manager of the under-19 Indian cricket team, travelled to Pakistan. There he met General Tikka Khan, who was infamous for his brutality during the Bangladesh Liberation War, and pleaded with him to let him see his nephew. Surprisingly, Khan agreed. Jathar was escorted to a prison in Faisalabad and produced in front of a cell. Inside was a bearded man dressed in a white kurta, reading a newspaper. Jathar recognised him instantly.
The meeting was short – Jathar was pulled away before he or Vijay could say anything. He kept the meeting a secret, telling only Damayanti and his family, rekindling their hope. He made the incident public only in 2002, after Tikka Khan’s death. From that point on, Vijaya and Damayanti’s case became a symbol for all the Indian defence personnel who remain unaccounted for.
A second trip was organised in 2007 for Indian families to identify their loved ones in Pakistani prisons. By this point the number had been revised from 40 to 54. But the trip was as futile as the last.
Over the last half-century, Damayanti has petitioned prime ministers, defence ministers, army officials, and even the public, but to no avail. She continues her fight alone. She says that she has given up hope of her husband returning but will keep looking for closure – “For me, he was everything and vice versa. If I don’t look out for him, who will?” [Rh/DS]
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