The night the Gods
slept
A true story of disaster and
indomitable courage of the ITBP personnel in the high Himalayas
Vivek Kumar Pandey
The-hold
spirits, the chivalrous spirits, the beautiful spirits suffuse fragrance even
when their bones are dead.
Snow
laid the stage, mist hung the curtains and blizzard drummed the prelude. The
setting was perfect for the heart rending drama that was destined to be enacted
that dreadful wintry night…Mana is a village about two miles north of Badrinath
and is located on the eastern bank of Alaknanda, near the confluence of rivers
Vasudhara and Saraswati, forming Alaknanda.
From
the evening of January 26, 1968, Mana experienced a major spell of inclement
weather—an unprecedented snow-fall. Three days later on January 29, at about
5.30 p.m. an exceptionally strong blizzard swept over Mana area and triggered
off a snow-slab avalanche from the northern slopes which came down like an
avenging Nemesis-crushing and engulfing the ITBP. Camp, burying all the ITBP
personnel numbering 20 within a matter of seconds.
It
was Nature’s night of victory but for the ITBP Jawans it was the night of
glory.
Here
is the account of the Nature’s most stupendous manifestation and the lone
battle of an ITBP Jawan against the might of Nature. The events and their sequence
are factual but the narration is imaginary...
“Snow
falling from 26th January continuously. Height is 4’ approximately.”
This
was the last signal flashed by the Mana ITBP post to the Coy HQ., Gauchar at
1400 hrs on January 29, 1968., the station went off the
air after this transmission. Atmospheric disturbance perhaps or was it
the mal-functioning of the antenna? –surmised the Coy HQ. Such breakdowns were
not unusual in bilchy weather like the one being experienced by Mana. None
could imagine the events that were overtaking fast the ITBP post in the folds
of the Himalayas.
On
the morning of January 26, the Republic Day was jointly celebrated by the
personnel of ITBP, IB, SPF and Grenadiers stationed at Mana with the usual
gaiety and gusto. From the evening of that day Mana experienced heavy snowfall
which hung thick curtains of mist separating the camps of these different units
and making it impossible for their inmates to visit each other. The shrill
wind, acting in unison, rendered even voice communication difficult.
The
snow-fall became heavier on the 28th. Its intensity increased further on the
afternoon of 29th. The lofty Himalayan peaks, which provided a breathtaking,
Panorama, way robbed of with changing colour and splendor of nature.
Towards
the evening the wind which had been blowing monotonously lost its patience and
began to moan and roan like a superstitious old lady. Snow fell heavily like
balls of wool. It looked as if all the sheep in Heavens were being sheared and
the wind acting like the loom fabricated blankets after blankets of snow. Mana
lay under a thick quilt of snow 6-8’ deep.
The
ITBP personnel were all indoors. In one of the three buildings occupied by
them, WT Operator Gopal Singh with head phone on was trying to establish contact
with the Coy HQ. His colleague, Operator P. D. Nautiyal, was watching him lying
cosily in the sleeping bag. In the main building, most of the inmates were chit
–chatting, discussing weather and recounting their experiences. They were in
jovial spirits for their conversation was sprinkled with fun and laughter. They
were unmindful of the elemental strife outside. Naik sunder Lal, the Camp
Commander, was in the third building with four others. Amongst them were sentry
Sher Singh, who stood on guard with a rifle in his hand, and Cook Mangal singh,
who was preparing dinner unaware that it was the last dinner he was cooking
which none was to partake and that death was peeping in hungrily for a more
sumptuous dinner.
Naik
Sunder lal stood near the door looking outside. He did not like the look of
things there. It was getting darker and the velocity of the wind was rapidly
increasing. He could not, however, see the black clouds which hung low and
large over the horizon and proceeded fast as if to devour the intervening
peaks. Within a few moments then poured easily over the icy peaks of the
Himalayas, tumbling over them. Then the violent out-riders pounced upon Mana.
“Look!”
shouted Sentry Sher Singh, drawing the attention of Naik Sunder Lal. “What sort
of smoke is coming from cut side?”
He
had hardly uttered these words when the door swung open and slammed shut by a
strong whoosh of the wind, the hurricane lantern swayed crazily throwing
confused patterns of light and shade in the room. It flickered, gave a few
gasps and died. Darkness deepened.
The
blizzard struck the camp with full force and held it in a vicious grip and
struck the camp with full force and held it in a vicious grip and shook it
violently. The GI-sheet roofs of the three buildings blew off lid paper-kite
and then….
Boom…boom…crash…like
a avenging Nemesis a huge snow-slab avalanche same tumbling and tumbling down
from the northern slopes, scattering tons of ice, crashing and wiping out the
entire ITBP camp—burying all the 20 inmates in an icy grave. No trace
whatsoever remained of the buildings. All this happened in the matter of
seconds.
The
blizzard filled the entire Mana area with the organ-notes of some mighty
symphony. The snow continued to weave and spread layer after layer of shroud as
if to obliterate the remaining evidence of the heinous crime. The elements
worked hand and glove in a deadly conspiracy. It was one of Nature’s most
stupendous manifestations.
…Something
stirred feebly amidst the mound of snow and ice. A human hand was trying to
remove the white shroud of snow, held tightly over the face of its owner to
save him from strangulation. It seemed to have succeeded for a shout for help
followed. But it was like a cry in the wilderness. The voice was drowned by the
devilish laughter and thunderclaps of the blizzard. More shouts….and then
silence. Naik Sunderlal, for it was he who had miraculously es caped death,
suddenly became aware of the gravity of the situation he struggled violently to
extricate himself from under the debris. He could not even move. He lay
inert.
His
memory flashed back to the events of the evening. He recalled himself standing
hear the door. Perhaps, it was his nearness to the door which and saved him
from being crushed underneath the weight of the fallen masonry and ice, he
thought. Miraculously, an opening had been formed to let in air which he
breathed and which and helped him to throw out his arm and to remove the
falling snow which was furiously attempting to plug up the hole. If only he
could free his second arm. He struggled again and jo! His second arm was free.
He brought both the arms near his neck and with all the strength he could
muster, he tried to push off the door over his chest. He could not move it. The
weight of the debris and ice was too heavy.
An
idea struck him. If he could widen the hole and then slither out slowly. He
began to dig with his hands picking pieces of snow and masonry underneath and
above him and then dragged himself up. He moved an inch perhaps. More digging
and dragging.
He
was up by another inch –another inch—yet another inch. His head was now
completely out. He rested on his elbows for a while and struggled again and
again. For nearly two hours this fight for survival continued.
Naik
Sunder lal appeared to be winning and he was now able to sit up. Only his legs
and feet remained to be extricated.
The
blizzard had now gone but the wind was still strong and snow continued to weave
blandest. Darkness was dreadful and silence more frightening. Naik Sunder Lal
could now survey the scene. He found complete desolation all-round. There were
no survivors. The realization of the fate of his camp mates stuck him with a
spasm of shock. Why did not he die too? Why was he spared to live? Was it to
tell the tale of the tragedy in which all his dear colleagues had lost their
lives? Oh no! Tears stung his eye… he would rather die than bear the ignominy
of the camp Commander having survived and all his men having perished…
What
was that? Suddenly Naik Sunder Lal was startled out of his unpleasant reveries.
Did not he hear some voice? Was it the moan of the wind? He strained his ears
and listened. No, he was not mistaken. Someone was indeed breathing and
groaning inside the very pit which held him a captive.
Galvanized
into action Naik Sunderlal, with a superhuman effort, freed himself out of the
hell hole. He stood for a while stretching his limbs. Next moment, he began to
work with both of his hands and feet like a man possessed.
Soon
his efforts were rewarded. He upturned the door under which he had lain and a
small tunnel yawned at him. He burrowed his way in the tunnel crawling on all
fours. Nothing was visible. He felt his way with his hands which soon came into
contact with something warm.
“who’s it?” he asked
“Mangal, sir.”
“can you move?”
“not at all…”
“
Don’t worry. I’ll take you out.” So saying Naik Sunderlal set himself to the
task of removing the ice and pieces of masonry and was soon able to extenuate
cook Mangal singh.
He
brought him near the face of the tunnel and made him tie there under the
protection of the door which he suitably adjusted.
Cook
Mangal singh was badly bruised and became senseless. When he came to senses he
thanked Naik Sunder lal and told him that constable Laxman Singh was lying there close by. Both Naik
Sunderlal and cook Mangal singh burrowed their way further and found const.
Laxman singh in a very bad shape. Try as they might they could not lift the
debris under which poor Laxman singh lay. There was nothing the two could do
without digging implements the ice was too hard to be removed with hands. Faced
with a set of circumstances far beyond their control of influence, they
decided to summon for help. Naik
Sunderlal realizing that Cook Mangal singh was not in a fit state to walk
through the deep snow and cold wing, asked the latter to stay there and keep
vigil while he himself proceeded down the hill.
The camps of SPF and Grenadiers were
situated on the other bank of Alaknanda. The river had turned into ice and over
its surface lay heaps of snow. The only footbridge which connected the two
banks was not visible. To cross the river would be courting sure death for the
treacherous ice would shake, slide and sink under the slightest weight and the
river would swallow up in one gulp the unwary intruder.
Naik
Sunderlal was aware of the risks involved in his mission but precious lives had
to be saved. Much time had already been lost. There was no going back. He
girded up his loins and trudged along the bank of Alaknanda.
Chest
deep snow poor visibility and buffeting of the wind made his movement
practically impossible. The ice-darts of snow pricked his face. Bent double, he
almost floated on the waves of snow, staggering to keep his balance, covering
his face against the stinging volleys of the ice-darts, He seemed to be walking
and walking endlessly for about two hours never seeming to get any nearer to
his destination. It was nearly mid-night when he saw through the mist a few
dots of light on the other side of Alaknanda. He shouted at the top of his
voice for help summoning all the energy that was left in him. Then he waited
straining his ears.
There
was no response. Naik Sunderlal then thought of going to the IB Camp which was
on this side of Alaknanda. He was about to turn when some faint voices came
floating in from the other side of the river-voices intense and involved.
Someone shouted: “We people are coming”.
With
his heart thumping with joy Naik Sunderlal thanked God and watched anxiously
through flurries of snow and the curtains of mist and darkness, for the succors
to appear. He saw points of lights jumping about hurriedly and shouts
signifying the sense of urgency with which preparations for rescue were being
made. He waited with breath abated.
And
then, one by one the dots of light vanished. The voices ceased. Silence settled
again broken only by the shrieks of the wind. What happened? Naik Sunderlal
asked himself. Where had the rescuers gone? Have they lost their way? Fifteen
minutes passed; half an hour …an hour … Naik Sunderlal lost his patience. He
was at the end of his tether. He shouted again and again, but only the wind
shouted back at him. Nothing happened.
Naik
Sunderlal turned round and like a sleep-walker moved towards the IB Camp. He
did not know how and when he reached there. He knocked at the door. Someone
shouted from inside “who is there?’
“Naik
Sunder Lal”
The
door opened and he staggered in-a picture of distress. He fell down on the
floor completely exhausted. The three IB men appeared concerned and shot into
action-they stoked the fire, wrapped him with blandest, removed his wet socks
and boots and gave him a cup of hot tea.
His
spirits revived, Naik Sunder Lal
narrated the whole episode and requested the IB men to hurry up and accompany
him to the ITBP camp to extricate his colleagues from under the ruins.
The
mystery of the disappearance of the rescuers soon stood revealed to Naik
Sunderlal when IB men informed him that the SPF men had indeed come to the IB
camp but finding the inmates quite hale and hearty had gone back. Apparently,
the SPF men had mistaken the shouts of Naik Sunderlal as those coming from the
IB camp. Quickly the four men worked out the course of action. Two of the IB
men went to fetch the SPF and Army personnel while the third accompanied Naik
Sunderlal to the place of the tragedy. By early morning the SPF men and
Grenadiers arrived with picks, shovels, ice-axes and other implements and
started the rescue operations with desperate urgency amidst shouts of “Jai
Badrinath”.
The
operations continued till February 5. Besides Naik Sunderlal and Cook Mangal
Singh, there were only two survivors Const. Devi Prasad and Const. Laxman
Singh, Over the entire operation hung one inescapable fact that the events had
turned against the victims of the tragedy so swiftly that their plight seemed
almost unreal. Operator Gopal Singh was dug out sitting in his chair with
head-phone on. His colleague operator Nautiyal lay in the sleeping-bag, still
watching his colleague. One of the Jawans in the main room stood holding the mug
of tea in his hand-perhaps to illustrate the truth of the old adage that there
is many a slip between the cup and the lip and, Sentry Sher Singh still stood
like a lion with a firm grip over his rifle.
The
inclement weather even delayed the performance of the last rites for the
departed souls. The dead bodies could only be removed to Gauchar by helicopter
on the 13 February and cremation took place at the same evening. Sixteen young,
tough and brave Jawans, who stood shoulder to shoulder while on duty, lay side
by side even in death. Sixteen pyres lit simultaneously to the accompaniment of
the sad notes of the bugle.
The
IG, DIG and other officers as also the kith and kin of the deceased watched the
heartrending spectacle with tear dimmed eyes and paid their homage to the
departed souls who had died a glorious death in the noble cause of their
motherland. The blizzard had killed them physically but their bold spirits
shone like bright stars blazing new trails which no storm could extinguish.
Today,
on the spot where the sixteen Jawans laid their lives, stands a small memorial
pointing like an accusing finger at the Gods above who slept that dreadful
night.Winters come and go. Every year, the snow visits the place with her
milk-white finery and the wind blows whistles enticingly. They search for the
sixteen Jawans in vain. They are beyond their reach. To a discerning traveler
who happens to visit this spot and read the names of the martyrs on the marble
plaque, the monument conveys a tell-tale message from the sixteen soldiers:
“Go tell
Mother India thus
that pass
by,
that here
obedient to Her,
will we
lie.”
THE
MARTYRS OF THE MANA TRAGEDY-1968
1. Havildar (Operator) No. 3240 Gopal Singh
2. Havildar (Operator) No. 2369 P. D. Nautiyal
3. Constable No. 2092 Puran Singh
4. Constable No. 2566 Dewan Singh
5. Constable No. 2269 Permanand
6. Constable
No. 2567 Laxman Singh
7. Constable No. 2629 Govind Balabh
8. Constable No. 2630 Chitra Bahadur
9. Constable No. 2633 Perma Nand
10. Constable No.
2635 Bahadur
Singh
11. Constable No.
2651 Sher
Singh
12. Constable No.
2654 Udai
Singh
13. Constable No.
2656 Kedar
Singh
14. Constable No.
2657 Padam
Singh
15. Constable No.
2659 Bachi
Singh
16. Constable No.
2337 Jai Chand
(Courtesy- Article of Sh MC Motwani's article published in ITBP magazine)
