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A General, a shrine and the whispers of fate

NESTLED in the rugged terrain of Sikkim lies not just a strategic military zone but also a region steeped in mystery, faith and folklore. During my tenure in the Eastern Himalayas as Officer Commanding of 214 Field Workshop and Divisional...
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NESTLED in the rugged terrain of Sikkim lies not just a strategic military zone but also a region steeped in mystery, faith and folklore. During my tenure in the Eastern Himalayas as Officer Commanding of 214 Field Workshop and Divisional Troops Workshop at Gangtok from 1997 to 1999, I heard a poignant anecdote that predated my posting — one that continues to echo through the mountains and among the troops stationed there.

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In May 1993, Lt Gen Jameel Mahmood, then GOC-in-C, Eastern Command, visited the 33 Corps zone in Sikkim. As per custom, senior officers visiting the sector made it a point to pay homage at the shrine of Baba Harbhajan Singh at Nathu La. He was a soldier of the Punjab Regiment, who passed on in 1968 but is still believed to protect Indian soldiers posted in the high Himalayas.

Pressed for time, the General skipped the shrine, stating that he would visit it on his next tour. However, inclement weather prevented helicopter clearance for his return journey. Officers gently suggested that this delay could be used to visit the Baba’s shrine. He declined once more.

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He then opted to travel by road to Siliguri, but the convoy was halted after his vehicle reportedly suffered a minor mishap. Once again, some advised him to reconsider visiting the shrine — perhaps this was a signal. The General, known for his professionalism, dismissed the suggestions, remarking that he was not superstitious and needed to adhere to his schedule.

Ultimately, despite the poor weather, the helicopter took off from Gangtok. On May 7, 1993, the Mi-8 chopper crashed near Paro, Bhutan. All eight onboard, including Lt Gen Mahmood and his wife, were killed. A Court of Inquiry reported a sudden loss of power but could not establish the precise cause.

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What made this tragedy resonate deeper was the story of Baba Harbhajan Singh. Revered by soldiers, he is believed to appear in dreams, warning troops of enemy plans. His uniform is maintained daily, and every year on September 11, his belongings are sent to his village in Punjab with full ceremonial respect. A seat is reserved for him on the train. Soldiers stationed near Nathu La contribute to support his family. Faith coexists with discipline in the Indian Army, especially in the forbidding terrain of the Himalayas.

This tale, though part folklore and part lived history, isn’t just about superstition or fate. It’s about the delicate balance between duty and belief, between military precision and human intuition. In a profession defined by planning, there are moments that defy logic and stir reflection.

Some stories outlive the moment of their telling. They become part of the soul of a place — whispered in mess halls, remembered by generations and passed on not as warnings, but as reminders that in the world of men and mountains, there are still forces that command reverence.

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