The night the Gods slept

 

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)