An Indian eyewitness to history

As the only Indian journalist in Beijing in 1989, N Jayaram had an up-close look at history as it unfolded in Tiananmen Square that spring. In an interview with DNA, he recounts his experience of witnessing the student-led movement through to the bloody finale:

I arrived in Beijing as the Press Trust of India correspondent in August 1988, barely five months ahead of prime minister Rajiv Gandhi's landmark visit to China. All foreign correspondents in Beijing had to live in one of four diplomatic compounds; I was in the Jianguomen compound, which was the closest to Tiananmen Square, and to its east.

The earliest stirrings of the movement were felt following the death on April 15 of reformist leader Hu Yaobang. Students used that occasion to call for democratic reforms and an end to corruption; they made Tiananmen Square the focal point of their protests, camping there in plastic tents put up over nearly three-quarters of the square.

I'd go over to the square almost daily, and walk in between the tents, savouring the atmosphere. Students would hold impromptu rallies, and Beijing residents would drop by to listen. Even in real time, one sensed that one was in the middle of something historic.

My view of the student-led movement, however, vacillated. Even when I saw it as a democracy movement, I wasn't sure how spontaneous it was. On occasions, I also felt the students were being a little extreme. Some of my ambivalence was reflected in my reportage at that time.

In those days, transmitting reports meant cutting a teleprinter tape and running it through the Xinhua machine at home. When that failed, as happened often, I would pedal down to the telegraph office (bicycles had right of way) and despatch my reports.

After martial law was proclaimed on May 20, there were rumours of an imminent crackdown: virtually every night, Beijing braced itself, but nothing happened, although troop movements were sighted. On the night of June 3-4, I saw armoured cars and tanks on a flyover near our compound. People had swarmed around the tanks. I witnessed all that, but when nothing more happened to the east of the square, I returned home well past midnight. Meanwhile, massive violence was unfolding to the west of the square.

On June 4, I got up at 4am and headed out for the square. There had been broadcasts asking people to stay indoors, so I sensed a denouement was at hand. The streets were eerily empty, except for some burnt-out vehicles. Knots of people stood around, dumbstruck. Closer to the square, armed guards blocked our path. Suddenly, there was a gunshot, and the person in front of me fell to the ground. There was a rush of activity, with people carrying away bodies and injured persons in flat-bed carts.

For days after that, Beijing remained a paralysed city. There were no signs of a government in control; slowly, after three or four days, the leaders resurfaced in the official media. A revolution had been averted, but nevertheless it was a defining moment in contemporary Chinese history.