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Sandeep Unnithan New Delhi, October 18, 2012 | UPDATED 20:56 IST
1962 Indo-China war veteran Brigadier Lakshman Singh shares his experience

Tags: Indo-China war | 1962 war | 1962 Indo-China war |
It's been nearly a half-century to the day but Brigadier Singh's recollection of the events of October 20 is as clear as the sunlight that streams into the living room of his third floor flat in Greater Noida.

He sits in a chair, ramrod straight, occasionally stopping to wipe a tear as he narrates the start of the India-China war of 1962. At 5 a.m. on October 20, Brigadier Singh, then a Captain, was awakened by a barrage of mortar shells. China's war against India had begun. Airburst rounds, designed to kill infantry, whistled through the air and exploded around the headquarters of the Indian Army's 7 Brigade at Rongla in Arunachal Pradesh.

The post was less than a kilometer away from the Chinese positions in the Namka Chu valley. Captain Lakshman Singh, the brigade's 'sparrow', as the communications officer was called, put his snow boots on and ran out.

The men of his signal unit sheltered behind boulders but on seeing Captain Singh, gathered courage to man their posts. Singh rushed to man his duty station, to provide communication between the headquarters and its forward-deployed battalions and companies.

The Brigade was the sharp edge of the Indian Army's 4th Infantry Division based in Tawang. The Brigade had been leapfrogged to sit on the border claimed by India. It was cold and it was over 14,500 metres above sea level. Headquarters was nothing more than three hastily erected stone bunkers.

The assumption was that the Chinese would not attack; the railway line to Lhasa had not been completed Indian intelligence believed. But now frantic radio messages from Indian positions strung over a 12 mile front radioed back to their headquarters: They were under heavy attack.

An entire Chinese division or three brigades with over 12,000 soldiers, swiftly advanced through the solitary 7 Brigade's platoons, companies and battalions. These building blocks of the brigade collapsed under the Chinese onslaught.

When the Indian radios fell silent, it was taken to mean that they had been overrun. There was no brigade left to command after three hours: 493 soldiers died and 60 were captured alive. The Battle of Namka chu was the Indian army's worst defeat in the border conflict.

Singh saw Brigadier John Dalvi in the command post. The tall handsome officer usually had an enigmatic smile. Today, his face had turned ashen as his command disintegrated. Soon, the HQ was crowded with casualties.

A young Lieutenant with a few soldiers, the company commander, protecting the Brigade HQ walked in soon after, dazed, still pointing his revolver. He informed Brigadier Dalvi that the Chinese were just 200 metres behind and in hot pursuit. The order to abandon the Brigade HQ was sounded.

Brigadier Dalvi and his officers left the headquarters to regroup at Tsangdhar. He was captured by the Chinese less than two hours later, but Lakshman Singh did not know this. His signals company stayed behind and were instructed to leave after shutting down the radio post.

"Everybody has gone," Singh said in his last message over the wireless set. "I am closing down the post." Singh led his signals group of 40 men away from the shattered brigade headquarters.

He last saw a solitary goat tethered to a tree, bleating in fear. The men carried their rifles, some ammunition and a blanket but no food. They trekked across a wasteland of defeat-crashed helicopters, air-dropped rations and retreating Indian soldiers; the group moved towards the Division Headquarters at Tawang , 60 km away.

When they realized that this vital town too was under threat from the Chinese, they changed direction and headed towards Bhutan. After a painful ten-day trek through rugged mountains and in biting cold, and skirting Chinese patrols, the group reached the Himalayan kingdom safely.

Singh had delivered his 40 soldiers safely from the enemy. It was one officer's small victory in the backdrop of his army's defeat.


Read more at: http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/i.../1/225265.html

68THE TIME MACHINE

OW ON THIS MORNING OF 28^TH on Flight IC 106 from Delhi to Bangalore as I strap myself to the window seat of the economy class of Air bus 320, I am reminded of another journey, of sitting on a far more uncomfortable wooden berth of the third class railway compartment I had taken for my very first trip to Bangalore.
It was some time in late 1952, then a MSc Final student at LucknowUniversity, that I got a call to report to the Services Selection Board (South). I was required to travel to Bangalore which to me previously had been a city in South; a vaguely remembered pin point on the map of India from a Geography lesson way back in school.
Taking a rickshaw from the University hostel with a huge hundred rupee note in my pocket, the size of which has since reduced including in monetary value, I arrived at the Charbagh railway station. Traveling third class, changing trains at times in the middle of the night, trying to locate an empty berth and trying to manage the train connections was in itself an adventure, albeit a harrowing one. As the trains sped south, the ever changing vista, unfolding and swiftly falling behind, kept me riveted to the scenery outside. Suddenly the old geography lesson was unfolding and coming alive before my very eyes. The aroma of the unfamiliar food items, the cacophony of the melee and incomprehensible gibbering of the hawkers, porters, the milling of passengers at the wayside stations and the constant gabble of unfamiliar co-passengers, provided some diversion if not relief from the tedium of the long and tiring journey. But the journey which I embarked upon from Lucknow to Kanpur then Jhansi, Secundrabad and Guntkal and which took five days and four different trains finally culminated when the train steamed into Bangalore station. I descended the train with a stiff- neck acquired from looking out of the window during my waking hours as well as a nagging pain in my back resulting from the constant tossing and turning necessary on the narrow hard wooden berth.
Bangalore, in those days was a retiree’s heaven with a laid-back life style, living in bungalows with large compounds, lush green lawns, flowers beds and tall trees. It was a clean city with temperate climate as witnessed by an abundant growth of lush tropical vegetation and fresh air. Very few vehicles plied the wide roads, that too under the strict and watchful eyes of the traffic cops. There were row upon row of ice-cream parlors, coffee shops, and a multitude of cinema houses; sixty-four or so that I counted on the guide map.
All along the exhausting journey to Bangalore I remained un-enticed by the slowly changing unfamiliar cuisine. I was very hungry now and remained so as I had no appetite for the Idli, Dosa, coffee and other southern fare for which I had yet to acquire a taste. I soon discovered much to my dismay, that there was only more of the same to be had in the ubiquitous Uddapee restaurants. The cup of tea that I yearned for was also conspicuous by its absence.
The aircraft door closes with its characteristic thump sealing us in the air-conditioned capsule and bringing me out of my reverie. After two hours or so of occasional staring out the aircraft window with nothing but some solitary clouds above and the good brown earth some 30,000 feet below I turn my attention away to Sawagat, the in-flight IA magazine. I flick through the glossy pages and pick at the overfull tray of snacks, drinking coffee at times and water from water bottles at others whilst killing time as we travel soundlessly towards Bangalore. Sometime later the plane noses down and we are back on mother earth. The aircraft door opens and after a bit of ceremony by the cabin crew and we are allowed to disembark.
The Airbus has taken just hours to bring me to Bangalore or Bengaloru as they call it now. Everything is so very different from that old city of yore: unrecognizable, in a hurry, chaotic yet moving at a snails pace thanks to the traffic snarls, the high powered cars crawling, helplessly, in the slow moving traffic, the two wheeler daredevils sneaking through nonexistent openings, the ramshackle buses spewing black clouds of un-burnt diesel, and the gleaming high-rises stealing the sky. A costly price indeed that Bangalore has had to pay for progress. It is distressing to say the least, albeit with one saving grace: Tea and North Indian food which is now available at every nook and corner of the city.
Alas the amazing IA Time Machine which had so effortlessly compressed five days into hours cannot take me back to the Bangalore of 1952 that had captured the imagination of my youth and which I now, a retired brigadier, so long to see once again.


From my new book bls31

Let's celebrate International Day for Biological Diversity - 22nd May, 2013

by taking a pledge not to disturb eco-balance; preserve biodiversity and

contribute to generate awareness among the people about the need to

protect and conserve our rich biodiversity.



The natural flora and fauna biodiversity lends real beauty to the mother earth.

aaj JL par Colour combination kuch jayda hi haraa ho raha hai ..

This green colour is pinching in eyes.

What say guys .. ??

Hello All Jatland Friends,

If anyone here has any relative or friends in Jaitawas Kalan village(near Charkhi Dadri), please let me know.
I need information about someone from that village. Actually i am looking for Boy for my cousin sister.

Being from Rohtak, i dont have any link charkhi dadri side.
I hope, i will get some help from Jatland.

Please reply ASAP.

Regards,
Naseeb Panghal
Mob: 9654922628

GO TO RR HOSPITAL AS A WALKING WOUNDED, diagnosed with some horrible sounding infection of the brain: the prognosis, a slow and long treatment.

Discharged from the hospital I come back with the physical abilities a six month old, just able to press the call button of the electronic bell with Ranjit, my son, for help, now totally dependent on him who has, voluntarily, taken charge.

Strangely, it is the afflicted brain that alone is functioning, using its reasoning power, I take a deliberate decision and with will power as my only asset at that time set on the long journey back from a six month old to a 82 year young.

Though the journey has been slow, tedious and also exhausting at times it has also provide occasions to celebrate the small victories en route.

I celibate the day I prop my self in the bed unaided, the day I mange to shuffle walk to and back from the toiled, on my own.

It is a day for celebrations when I take the lift from my third floor apartment to ground floor and manage a short walk, partly along the park.

The high point is when I open the door of my Opel Astra, twist and turn to enter and occupy the familiar driving seat, hold the steering wheel in my two hands for some time, satisfied, manage to exit the car unaided.

The mega celebrations reserved for the day I discard the walking stick till now my constant aid and companion.

The celebrations, on reaching one milestone after another, personal and held in mind only with no cakes cut, no flowers proofed by friends, visitors or family members

It is Freedom at last: a triumph of will power over debility

.

We pay our respectful tribute to the Great Jat and even greater Farmers' Leader

Ch. Mahendra Singh Tikait on his death Anniversary. His passing away has created a

great vacuum in the field of Farmers' leadership which is difficult to be filled up in near future !


For details of his life and work, please, log :


15 May is the death anniversary of Chaudhary Mahendra Singh Tikait

Dear Friends,
Below is the short edited video of my talk at TED IIM Ranchi. Hope you like it.
Warm Regards

Bhuplan (भूपलान ) jat gotra ke bare me mere dost janna chata hai unke 2 gaon hai up me onlye or wo rajasthan se aaye hai suna aisa.......unhone koi janta hai jo help kar sake ki rajasthan me bhuplan hai kya kyu ki mere area ke rajasthan me yeh gotra nhi hai......

Jawaharlal Nehru proved that a Rich man can be our PM..

Lal bahadur Shastri proved that a poor man can be our PM..
Indira Gandhi proved that a lady can be our PM..

Morarji Desai proved that age was no factor in becoming our PM...
Charan Singh proved that a farmer can be our PM..
Rajiv Gandhi proved that PM position can be inherited...

VP Singh proved that a Raja can be our PM...
Deve Gowda proved that anyone can become our PM...
IK Gujral proved that a one-man party can have a PM...

Vajpayee proved that you have to shelve your agenda to remain PM...
Manmohan Singh has proved that we don’t need a PM at all...

So why this noise as to who will be our next PM...??? :(:(

ग्रामीण शहरी से नफरत इसलिए करता है क्योंकि शहरी अपनी चीजें बेचने और अपनी वाक्पटुता (through various debates and T.V. shows) सिद्ध करने हेतु, ग्रामीणों के सांस्कृतिक पहलुओं और मान्यताओं के सकारात्मक और नकारात्मक दोनों पक्षों को एक तराजू में तोलता है और इससे ग्रामीण को उसकी सकारात्मकता खतरे में दिखती है तो वह विरोध कर बैठता है और परिणाम-स्वरूप शहरी के प्रति नफरत खड़ी हो जाती है| इसमें दूसरा कारण बनता है कि शहरी यह सब माया रच जो नई चीज ग्रामीणों के बीच उतारना चाहता है वो उसमें कहीं-ना-कहीं ग्रामीणों को विश्वास दिलाने में असफल रहता है, जिसको उसकी "failure or lack of marketing skills" भी कहा जाता है| अन्यथा ऐसा नहीं कि ग्रामीण अपनी नकारात्मकताओं को दूर ना करना चाहता हो|

शहरी ग्रामीणों से इसलिए नफरत करते हैं क्योंकि उनकी "marketing skills का "forecasted rate of success" प्राप्त नहीं कर पाते| और ऐसी चीजें ग्रामीणों के बीच ले के जाते हैं जो कई बार ग्रामीणों की अपनी स्थानीय मान्यताओं से भी पिछड़ी होती हैं और ग्रामीणों को आकर्षित नहीं कर पाती| इससे शहरी को चिड़ होती है और वो ग्रामीणों से नफरत करने लग जाता है क्योंकि उसको लगता है कि सदियों से कुछ "fix set of values" पर जीने वाले इन (उसकी नजर में तथाकथित रूढ़िवादी गंवारों) को क्या पता कि "invention and modernization" क्या होती है| लेकिन शहरी अगर ग्रामीणों की मान्यताओं के दार्शनिक एवं वैज्ञानिक आधार का अध्यन करके अपना सामान और विचार बेचने जायेंगे तो वो उनसे नफरत नहीं करेंगे|

That is where lies the secret for success of marketing, but our marketers heavily lack on it and very poorly perform. But how feasible it is to cover own failure by blaming the values and cultures of your own market (from where you seek to acquire a lump-sum of earning) people and making them threatened of yourself?

दुनिया गवाह रही है कि जहाँ संस्कृति और मान्यताओं पर हमले हुए हैं वहां व्यापार दिलों में बस के नहीं अपितु लूटमार और धक्काशाही से हुए हैं| और ये लूटमार और धक्काशाहियाँ ऐसी भयानक होती हैं जो तारीखों नें बड़े-बड़े विश्वयुद्धों में तब्दील होती देखी हैं| और भारत जैसे देश में MNS और शिव-सेनाओं जैसे क्षेत्रवाद के सांस्कृतिक संगठन खड़े होना इन्हीं नीतियों का अपवाद हैं|

Who would like to take the debate on next stage? It is an important topic not only related to our culture but Professional studies and career too....

Throughout history north western tribes like Jats, Rajpoots, Gurkhas, Dogra's etc. have fought and defended north west frontiers, yet they have the least say and representation in Indian governments either in states or in center. These are also the tribes who do farming and feed the country still their say in Indian parliament is least.

Hi Friends,

I am looking for Mediclaim Policy.
Could you please suggest Best Mediclaim Policy......Please