For the readers of my ‘musings’, let me fast forward to my years as an officer in the Army. Not many of you would be aware that I served in the ‘infantry’ – soldiers who measure ‘victory’ on foot (!) – that too, with the ‘Gorkhas’. I am not getting into the nitty-gritty of the Army as an organisation nor do I have the ‘space’ to delve too deeply into ‘Infantry’. Suffice to say that I was fortunate to have served with the Gorkhas for more than two decades and it would be but natural for me to write about my ‘love affair’ with this ‘band of warriors’ from the hilly terrain of Nepal. 
I was commissioned into the 2nd Battalion of the 8th Gorkha Rifles in the summer of 1983. This is the unit which distinguished itself by fighting virtually to the last man during the Battle of Loos in France on 25 September 1915, launching themselves time after time against the weight of the German defences. Only one officer and 49 men survived out of the 800-odd who participated to begin with. Nonetheless, the German lines of defence was finally breached when the last of these men charged with ‘khukris’ in their hands, like men possessed, emitting the blood-curdling war cry ‘Ayo Gorkhali!!’. Remember what Manekshaw had to say about the Gorkhas - “If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or he is a Gorkha”. That kind of sums up a Johnny Gorkha – bravest of the brave, aptly exemplified by their motto ‘it is better to die than be a coward’. Having served for more than twenty years with them, I can certainly vouch for their courage, loyalty and honesty, aberrations notwithstanding. It would be a travesty if I don’t share with you their acts of valour as also their sense of honour and commitment, their ‘innocence’ imbued with a subtle sense of humour, their simplicity and much more; they are indeed a breed apart!
If I had to recollect some of the lighter moments with this Johnny Gorkha, I am immediately reminded of a Havaldar, in-charge of our Officers’ Mess, who ended up buying ‘gulab’ and goes hunting for ‘jamun’ in the market because ‘gulab jamun’ was part of the menu for an special occasion, and then regretfully informs the Mess Secretary that ‘jamun’ was out of season! Incidentally, yours truly happened to be the Mess Secretary. This Johnny wasn’t amused one bit by my mirthful laughter, instead, squarely blamed me for the faux pas since, in his considered opinion, I was the one who erred in giving the menu for ‘lal mohan’ as ‘gulab jamun'! 
I also remember a photo session I had in the late 80s in the higher reaches of Kashmir somewhere close to Uri, using the ‘Agfa’ camera of yesteryears. I was horrified to find my head ‘chopped from the top’ in most of the pictures once the prints came back from the studio. When I admonished my ‘buddy’ - a young soldier from western Nepal - for his bad photography, he, instead of being embarrassed or apologetic, had the audacity to retort, with an impish grin spread from ear-to-ear on his young innocent face, that we were both equally ‘bad photographers’ since I also had ‘chopped his legs’! 
Talk of warrior instincts and this 36-year- old ‘Naik’ from Nepal, proceeding on his last ‘chhutti’ prior his retirement from the army in the summer of 2012, comes to my mind. Let’s call him ‘Bom Bahadur’. So, Bom Bahadur boarded a train at Ranchi, where his unit was located, bound for Gorakhpur near the Indo-Nepal border. Somewhere on the Bihar-UP border, in the dead of the night, forty-odd dacoits boarded this train and started to loot the passengers. Obviously, Bom Bahadur also parted with his watch and purse since it was the wisest thing to do under the circumstances. However, when some of the dacoits started to molest a young girl in the adjoining berth - a total stranger, mind you - he requested them to spare her (the ignominy of a rape). But, when they ignored his plea and began to disrobe the girl despite her pleas for mercy, the basic instinct of a warrior overtook his caution and out came the ‘khukri’. Two of the culprits fell then and there, their heads almost severed from the torsos. The others counter-attacked him with lathis and knives, but fortunately for him, in the narrow confines of the coach Bom Bahadur had the advantage of tackling them two at a time at close quarters. At the end of about fifteen minutes of mayhem, six dacoits lay dead or almost dead and several more grievously injured, and the rest scooted for their lives. Naik Bom Bahadur only sustained minor injuries and after obtaining first aid, proceeded to his village in Nepal. Later, when he was decorated with a ‘Sena Medal’ for gallantry, he thought nothing of it; rather felt he did the least a fellow-being could do for the others in distress. That’s a Gorkha soldier for you, ladies and gentlemen! 
I have many more ‘Gorkha’ stories in the offing, so be on the lookout! Bye for now.......Ciao!

 

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Kenter Joya Riba

(Managing Editor)
      She is a graduate in Science with post graduation in Sociology from University of Pune. She has been in the media industry for nearly a decade. Before turning to print business, she has been associated with radio and television.
Email: kenterjoyaz@easternsentinel.in / editoreasternsentinel@gmail.com
Phone: 0360-2212313

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