Cilla Khatry

Field Marshal Sam “Bahadur” Manekshaw, the former Indian Chief of Staff, once famously said, “If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or is a Gorkha.”*

That’s the reputation Gurkhas have. And you’ll come to know why when you meet Dal Bahadur Shahi, an octogenarian who served in the British Gurkha Rifles for 18 years. This 86-year-old man has been through a lot; from falling off an 80-feet-high bridge during his army training in Bombay to preparing to serve in the Second World War from which even his family had no hopes he would return. 

But Shahi has survived to tell tales of battles to his grandchildren who look at him in awe and fascination as he narrates personal stories that are a part of our history books. Shahi’s father, Karna Bahadur, served in the First World War which was the reason why, despite being the only son and hence repeatedly berated for his wish of following in his father’s footsteps, Shahi was enraptured with the world of combat and finally enlisted himself in 1944.

“In 1943, I ran away to join the army but my mother dragged me back home. Then in 1944, six months after my father’s death, I made it to Gorakhpur and enlisted. I had lied to my mother saying I was going to collect my father’s pension,” says Shahi, adding that when he and his friends traveled to Kunraghat in Gorakhpur, a city in the eastern part of Uttar Pradesh in India, near the Nepal border, they weren’t bothered that the Second World War was ongoing as their enthusiasm to be a part of an army far outweighed the eventual consequences of war.

As Shahi was preparing to go serve in the Second World War and undergoing intensive training, Japan surrendered and the war came to an end. The new recruits were given some time off. The future of the Gurkhas remained to be seen. Rumors were that they would be disbanded. In 1947, Shahi returned to his village in Myagdi District and spent six months in eager anticipation.

When it was eventually decided that all the Gurkha regiments would continue to be in operation, Shahi rejoined on February 24, 1948. But Shahi was sent to a new base outside India, as he belonged to the 2nd Regiment and it fell under one of the four regiments that would continue under the banner of the British Army. The remaining regiments would stay in India and become a part of the Indian Army’s Gorkha Rifles.

Shahi was then relocated to Malaya (now Malaysia) which was suffering from the aftermaths of World War II and with a Communist uprising. The Malayan Communist Party had established guerrilla setups in the jungles of the Malay Peninsula. The British, colonial holders of Malaysia at that point of time, tried to put an end to the insurgency by military means.

About four fifth of the Malayan Peninsula where Shahi’s regiment was deployed was covered by dense tropical rainforest besides being a heavily mosquito-infested swampland. At one point of time during guerilla skirmishes, Shahi was actually leaning against a python while firing, having mistaken it for a fallen log. Shahi recalls that he had been so scared of the python that for a moment he had completely forgotten that there were enemies out there to kill him.

Shahi gets really animated every single time he narrates this particular incident, and a man who is otherwise very reserved transforms into someone extremely garrulous who gesticulates while speaking in a much higher tone than normal to make sure he’s heard.

In 1963, Shahi retired and came back home. Once a soldier, always a soldier, they say and so unable to lead a sedentary life and just stay home, he enlisted in the Nepal Police Force and moved to Birgunj, a sub-metropolitan municipality and border town in Parsa District in southern Nepal and served for a few years before eventually calling it quits to make more time for his family.

His wife, Purna Kumari Shahi, is extremely proud of her husband. When she married him, she was just 14 and when he went to war, she lived with the constant fear of losing her husband at such a young age. “He’s my knight in shining armor. Almost literally,” she says adding that there’s not been a moment when he’s lost his cool or been aggressive.

“People come back from war and are traumatized. But that’s not happened with him. Rather, the war has instilled in him a deep sense of respect for others,” says Purna Kumari, mentioning that he never cribs when she puts too much salt in his food or an extra teaspoon of sugar in his tea.

“If our sons complain that the food is too salty or spicy, he tells them that they have two options. Either they cook for themselves or they just keep quiet and eat what’s served.”

Being an ex-army official has made him a chivalrous and delightful man who hardly complains about anything. His smile can still charm his wife and even his frequently repeated jokes hold the power to make her burst into peals of laughter every single time.

Shahi confesses that he wanted, at least, one of his sons to carry on his soldiering legacy. So he took his eldest son to get recruited in the British Brigade of Gurkhas. But they rejected him as he had too many scars on his face. Shahi then took his second son, but since he was very frail and thin, he was also rejected.

Dejected but still not defeated, Shahi gave it one last shot and took his youngest son for enlistment. But even he failed at the trainings, and that put an end to Shahi’s dreams of having at least one offspring follow his military footsteps. But Shahi firmly believes that whatever happened was for the best, as all his children are settled well in life and are happy with the careers they have chosen for themselves.

Living on his pension which is quite enough, thank you, Shahi and his wife lead a comfortable life in Bharatpur. He is proud of the fact that he doesn’t have to depend on his children for anything. Being a British Gurkha has paid off in the long run.But when he thinks of the war now, Shahi confesses that there were moments when he couldn’t justify killing people even if they were enemies.

“When I saw people die, whether enemies or friends, I just couldn’t make sense of it sometimes. It seemed like mass murder and I couldn’t reason out why I was involved in it,” says Shahi, adding that dragging dead bodies of his colleagues back to their camp was the most difficult aspect of the entire war. “I couldn’t believe that people I was talking to just a while back were no more.”

During the course of the jungle reconnaissance in Malaya, one of the other hardships was that food was limited and Shahi and his battalion had to survive on whatever meager supply of food and water that was dropped time to time from British choppers.

Damp and mosquitoes also added to their miseries. Many fell sick and many chose to return home while some had to retire after suffering from major injuries. Shahi too has many scars that stand testimony to the multiple times he was injured during campaigns but he didn’t return as he feared being stigmatized and shunned by the society back home.

“I wanted to return home after I had served my time and not a minute before that, no matter what the odds,” says Shahi, showing off the medals that are his most prized possessions. He is proud of his past, yes, but that’s not entirely because of his being a decorated war hero but more because he’d been able to provide his family a better life than he otherwise could have elsewhere.

Despite being uneducated himself, as the village he was born in had no schools, Shahi made it a point to educate his children well. His sons were sent to boarding schools in Mumbai, India. His daughters, too, were encouraged to study and one went on to become a veterinarian doctor.

“I was the only Gurkha in my battalion who knew the alphabets,” says Shahi with a laugh, adding that there was only one single hand that went up in a crowd of a hundred Gurkhas when asked who could read. During the course of his training, Shahi had studied in his tent under a flashlight after bedtime. He wanted to be able to at least converse in English with British soldiers. Shahi’s face flushes with pride when he narrates stories of how British Limeys used to call on him when they had something to tell his battalion.

Dal Bahadur Shahi is a wonder of a man, and having faced death on multiple occasions still remains unfazed by it all even as age has taken its toll.

“I may look frail and weak but even now I won’t hesitate to call out “Aayo Gorkhali!” and fight if there’s ever a need for that,” he says. He credits this mentality and everything he is now to the fact that he is a war soldier. The cadence in his speech, the strut of his walk and the crisp ironed attire he’s always dressed in exhibit the traits of a person who is still very much a Gurkha at heart.

*The word is spelled as “Gorkha” in the Indian Armed Forces, and “Gurkha” in the British Army.

Published on: 7 September 2012 | Republica