Nathu Khan’s Umeed

Brig Gurinder Singh (Retd)

IN 1988 my battalion moved to Siachen Glacier. We all were anxious and overawed by exaggerated stories/rumours about life in the highest war zone of the world. It was already September, there was not enough time before the long and severe winter would set in and some of the posts would remain cut off for six months. When it came to occupy a small, precariously located post to be manned by eight men led by a Havildar, the Company Commander made an emotive invocation for volunteers to step out. Even before he finished, Havildar Nathu Khan offered to be the post commander.

The next day at 3.30 am, Nathu Khan led his men to the post and got down to taking over the operational responsibility. The post, 30 ft by 20 ft and dominated by enemy fire and observation, lay in the avalanche-prone zone. A wonderful view down the slopes was the only consolation. Over the next few days, Nathu and his men double-checked every bit of stocking of ration, medicines, kerosene and other provisions. They all wrote letters back home to wives, mothers and children (there were no mobiles then) before they were cut off in end November.

Then it began to snow heavily and isolation began to test Nathu’s team. The men faced the vagaries of weather cheerfully, but the routine of shovelling tons of snow every few hour and very restricted space for movement were irksome. Much to the relief of the men, the sun shone for three continuous days in the first week of February. The same month, a minor avalanche hit the post and destroyed a bunker. There were no casualties but some rations and provisions were swept away. Nathu kept his flock together in the safest bunker till the avalanche warning receded. When he took stock of the losses, it emerged that apart from some rations, the entire stock of matchboxes were lost in the landslide. With at least three months to go, the only source of fire was a lone wick burning at the top of a kerosene-filled bottle. Nathu and his men resolved to keep the wick burning. It was always guarded by one of the men through blizzard and windy conditions, till the route opened in May.

A year after the glacier tenure, Nathu chose to seek premature retirement. By then I had become his Company Commander. I tried to persuade him not to leave but in vain. Later, he invited me to his village in Sikar for the inauguration of his house. After all the guests had left, I asked him about his experience on that isolated post and how he kept the wick burning for three months in those severe conditions. Looking in the distance, he said: ‘I secretly thought of the batti as the beti I never had (Nathu has three sons), and named it Umeed. I decided to care for it the way I would for my daughter — aur beti kab saath chhodti hai?’