A Conversation That Unveils History
In the heart of Delhi, a quaint coffee shop buzzed with the low hum of conversations and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. At a corner table, two friends, Ravi and Meera, sat engrossed in a discussion that would unravel one of the lesser-known chapters of India’s military history—Operation Sindoor. Ravi, a seasoned journalist with a deep interest in military history, and Meera, a history student researching the Sri Lankan Civil War for her master’s thesis, brought to life a story of courage, sacrifice, and the complexities of peacekeeping. Their conversation, woven into this narrative, paints a vivid picture of a pivotal moment when India stepped into the quagmire of a foreign conflict, with consequences that reverberated far beyond its borders.
The Roots of Conflict: Sri Lanka’s Civil War
Ravi leaned back in his chair, his coffee mug steaming gently. “Operation Sindoor,” he began, his voice tinged with gravitas, “wasn’t just a military operation. It was a saga of courage, sacrifice, and the harsh realities of peacekeeping in a land torn apart by conflict.” Meera, scribbling furiously in her notebook, urged him to elaborate. “I’ve come across the name in my research, but the details are vague. Tell me everything,” she said, her eyes wide with anticipation.
To understand Operation Sindoor, Ravi explained, one must step back to the turbulent 1980s in Sri Lanka. The island nation was embroiled in a brutal civil war between the Sinhalese-dominated government and Tamil militant groups, most notably the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). The LTTE, fighting for a separate Tamil state called Eelam, had turned the northern Jaffna Peninsula into their stronghold. The conflict wasn’t just Sri Lanka’s problem—it spilled over into India, particularly Tamil Nadu, where the Tamil population felt a deep kinship with their brethren across the Palk Strait. “India couldn’t stay aloof,” Ravi said. “The unrest in Sri Lanka was a geopolitical headache, threatening regional stability.”
The Indo-Sri Lanka Accord: A Bold but Risky Move
Meera nodded, her pen pausing. “So, how did India get involved? And what’s this about the IPKF?” Ravi took a sip of his coffee, gathering his thoughts. “It all started with the Indo-Sri Lanka Accord in 1987. Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi and Sri Lankan President J.R. Jayewardene signed an agreement to bring peace to the island. The deal promised greater autonomy for Tamils and a ceasefire, with India stepping in to enforce it. That’s where the Indian Peace Keeping Force, or IPKF, came in. They were sent as a neutral force to disarm the LTTE, ensure the ceasefire, and pave the way for peace. But things went south pretty quickly.”
Meera leaned forward, intrigued. “Why? Weren’t they supposed to be peacekeepers?” “Exactly,” Ravi replied, his tone somber. “The IPKF was meant to be a peacekeeping force, not an army fighting a war. However, the LTTE didn’t trust the accord or India’s intentions. They saw the IPKF as an occupying force, meddling in their fight for Eelam. Instead of laying down arms, the LTTE turned their guns on the IPKF. By mid-1987, the situation had escalated into a full-blown conflict. The Indian Army, trained for conventional warfare, found itself facing a ruthless guerrilla force in unfamiliar terrain. That’s when Operation Sindoor was launched.”
Operation Sindoor: The Battle for Jaffna
Meera’s eyes lit up. “So, Operation Sindoor was a counterattack?” Ravi nodded. “It was the IPKF’s most ambitious and perilous mission. The goal was to capture Jaffna, the heart of LTTE’s operations. Jaffna wasn’t just a city—it was the nerve center of the Tamil Tigers. Their command structure, weapons caches, and training camps were all based there, with the Jaffna University serving as their de facto headquarters. In October 1987, the IPKF launched a multi-pronged assault to seize control of the city and cripple the LTTE’s military capabilities.”
Meera scribbled furiously. “Jaffna University? A university turned into a battlefield? That’s hard to imagine.” “It’s one of the ironies of the operation,” Ravi said, his voice heavy. “The university was a symbol of learning, but for the LTTE, it was a fortress. They had fortified it, using its buildings as command posts and bunkers. The IPKF, under the command of officers like Major General Harkirat Singh, planned a meticulous assault. But the LTTE was ready. They weren’t your average insurgents. These were highly trained, fiercely committed fighters who knew every alley, canal, and sewer in Jaffna. They used guerrilla tactics—ambushes, landmines, sniper attacks—to devastating effect.”
The Challenges of Guerrilla Warfare
Meera paused, her pen hovering over her notebook. “But the Indian Army was well-equipped, right? Why was it so tough?” Ravi sighed. “The Indian Army was disciplined and professional, no doubt. But they were unprepared for this kind of warfare. The IPKF was sent with light weaponry, expecting to oversee a ceasefire, not fight a war. The LTTE, on the other hand, had heavy weapons—rocket launchers, mortars, even anti-tank missiles—smuggled from abroad. Jaffna’s dense urban landscape made things worse. Narrow streets, tightly packed buildings, and a hostile civilian population created a nightmare for the IPKF. Every corner could hide a sniper, every road a landmine.”
Meera shook her head, absorbing the gravity of the situation. “So, what happened during the operation? Did they take Jaffna?” Ravi leaned forward, his voice dropping. “The operation began on October 10, 1987. The IPKF advanced on Jaffna from multiple fronts, with infantry units, tanks, and artillery support. The initial plan was to encircle the city and cut off LTTE’s supply lines. But the Tigers fought back ferociously. One of the most intense battles was at Jaffna University. The LTTE had fortified the campus, and the IPKF faced heavy resistance. There were stories of Indian soldiers fighting room to room, clearing out bunkers while under constant fire. The LTTE even used human shields, making it harder for the IPKF to advance without civilian casualties.”
A Costly Victory
Meera’s eyes widened. “That sounds brutal. How long did it take?” “It was a grueling campaign,” Ravi replied. “The fighting lasted weeks. By late October, the IPKF had captured key areas of Jaffna, including the university. But the cost was staggering. Hundreds of Indian soldiers were killed, and many more were wounded. The LTTE suffered heavy losses too, but they didn’t surrender. They melted into the jungles and villages, continuing their guerrilla campaign. Operation Sindoor achieved its objective—control of Jaffna—but it didn’t break the LTTE’s spirit or end the civil war.”
Meera frowned. “So, was it a success or a failure?” Ravi hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It’s a gray area, Meera. Militarily, the IPKF succeeded in capturing Jaffna and weakening the LTTE’s hold. But strategically and politically, it was a mixed bag. The operation didn’t bring peace. The LTTE regrouped and continued their insurgency. Worse, the IPKF’s presence alienated parts of the Tamil population, who saw them as occupiers rather than saviors. The Indian soldiers were caught in a bind—fighting a war they weren’t fully equipped for while trying to win hearts and minds in a hostile land.”
The Bigger Picture: Why India Intervened
Meera tapped her pen thoughtfully. “Why did India take such a risk? If the mission was so complicated, what was the point?” Ravi leaned back, his gaze distant. “India had its reasons. First, there was the regional angle. Instability in Sri Lanka could spill over into Tamil Nadu, creating a refugee crisis and political unrest. Second, India wanted to assert its influence in South Asia, especially with superpowers like the U.S. sniffing around the region during the Cold War. Rajiv Gandhi saw the accord as a way to broker peace and showcase India’s diplomatic clout. But the ground reality was messier than anyone anticipated. The IPKF’s soldiers bore the brunt of those miscalculations. They fought bravely, but the mission’s goals were murky, and the political will to sustain it waned.”
The Symbolism of ‘Sindoor’
Meera scribbled a final note. “And why ‘Sindoor’? What’s with the name?” Ravi chuckled. “Military operations often get cryptic codenames to confuse the enemy. ‘Sindoor’ is a powerful symbol in Indian culture—red vermilion, associated with strength, sacrifice, and auspiciousness. Maybe the army chose it to reflect the operation’s significance or the blood that would be spilled. The exact reason is probably buried in some classified file, but it’s a fitting name for a mission that demanded so much from those who fought.”
A Legacy Worth Exploring
Meera closed her notebook, a determined look in her eyes. “This is incredible, Ravi. I’m definitely including Operation Sindoor in my thesis. Any recommendations for where I can dig deeper?” Ravi smiled. “Start with Intervention in Sri Lanka by Major General Harkirat Singh. It’s a firsthand account from the IPKF’s commander. Lieutenant General Depinder Singh’s IPKF in Sri Lanka is another good one. You might also find declassified documents online or discussions on platforms like X, where veterans and historians sometimes share insights. It’s a rabbit hole, but a fascinating one.”
Meera grinned. “Thanks, Ravi. This is going to make my thesis stand out. Next time, you’re telling me about Operation Pawan!” Ravi laughed, raising his coffee mug. “Deal. Now finish that coffee and get to the library!” As they wrapped up their conversation, the story of Operation Sindoor lingered—a tale of ambition, bravery, and the harsh lessons of intervening in a neighbor’s war. For the IPKF soldiers who fought in Jaffna’s streets, it was a crucible of courage and loss. For India, it was a reminder that peacekeeping can be as perilous as war itself.