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In Karachi and New Delhi, young men raced through the streets pulling strangers' beards to make sure they were not false. A freelance photographer who went to Patna to snap pictures of the Ganges River for a U.S. magazine was arrested and jailed because the police, who had never seen equipment as sophisticated as his 200-mm. telephoto lens, thought it was an aerial camera. In Bombay, nocturnal cremations were banned lest they serve as fiery beacons for enemy aircraft.
Patna's police also spent one night cordoning off an area below a mysterious, wavering filament in the sky that they identified as a "rocket fuse." At dawn, they discovered someone had tied his paper kite to a pole, and the "fuse" was merely its fluttering string.
Closer Parity. Both the Indian and Pakistan governments were also dropping public hints as to the ground rules for future fighting. Each disclaimed any intention of bombing the other's jammed, slum-packed cities, which are easily flammable and prone to panic. And seemingly, neither side intends to launch a massive, win-the-war offensive with the aim of destroying the enemy's army and occupying his land.
Most military observers thought the fighting so far had gone about as expected. In the short run, Pakistan's small, highly trained army is more than a match for the Indians. But each skirmish and each day in the field reduces the efficiency of the U.S. weapons and equipment, and brings the Pakistanis toward closer parity with the Indians.
All of the Indian drives in the Punjab seem to have been stopped cold a short distance across the border. One unit attacking Lahore was severely handled and driven back into India, where it has dug in in defense of Ferozepore. But should the war be prolonged several more weeks, military men think that the more numerous Indian army will begin to prevail.
Peking Laughter. There is one imponderable: China. Even a military demonstration on the Himalayan front would seriously weaken the Indian effort. A Chinese offensive on the scale of their last one in 1962 would be more than India could handle, for New Delhi is barely equipped for a one-enemy war. It could never deal with two at once.
Who knew how Red China would react? Ayub, no friend of Communism, had not asked for aid from that quarter. Also, the Chinese might recall that in the 1962 clash with India, Ayub made clear to Delhi that Indian troops could safely be transferred from the Pakistan frontier to the Himalayas. True, Peking has been mumbling about Indian "aggression" in the border area. But these noises began long before the present conflict, and have not been significantly renewed. At the present moment, China's interests are well served by letting its two neighbors waste their scanty substance in war against each other. As an Indian official said grimly, "They must be laughing hard in Peking."