Hanumanthappa’s Death Reminds Me of What My Dad Braved at Siachen

We cannot be experts of what it’s like to be at the Siachen – unless we’ve braved that glacier ourselves.

None of us are experts, except those who have survived the bitter winter chill of Siachen Glacier.

I was 8 years old when we were living in a separated family accommodation at Ajmer and my father was serving his tenure at the highest battle field on earth – Siachen Glacier.

It is located amidst the Himalayan ranges at an altitude of 18,875 ft and is often called the ‘Third Pole’. The average winter snowfall is 35 ft and temperatures drop down to     –50 degrees celsius. The expanse of this glacier is over 700 square kilometres.

No matter how far your eyes go, the expanse is white. And nothing else.

On this huge mass of ice, the Line of Control manned by the Indian army is 76 kilometres long.

My father was one of the many who’ve been stationed at that post.

The Horrifying Stories my Mother Would Hear

I have seen my father travel from bone chilling temperatures of –50 degrees to the scorching heat of +50 degrees Celsius – on the same day – to visit his sick mother, wife and children.

His body would often give up.

On every visit, I’d hear him tell my mother about yet another soldier who had been brought down in pieces because his body had stiffened minutes within his death.

Yet another officer who had lost his fingers because he had removed his glove to aim right and the metal never left him.

Yet another young lad who had charged and chocked to death because of the lack of oxygen in the air.

My mother heard these crude, coarse stories for two whole years – all of which time he stayed at the glacier and she bade him farewell after every visit.

For my sister and I, Siachen was nothing less than winter wonderland, because that’s how my father described it. Chopper rides, helicopters, beds made out of chocolates, crates of juices under the feet, piles of biscuits all over... and a good deal of sluggishness and camaraderie to while your day.

Now who wouldn’t want to be a part of that world?

But I know better now. I know the things he left unsaid.

That high calorie, tinned food was all there was to eat. That that was all that could be air dropped. That sluggishness wasn’t a choice, it was a compulsion – to stay put, where you were. And that choppers were the only mode of transport (subject to weather conditions, of course).

The crevasses of the glacier were their toilets and bathing a luxury that he and his men simply couldn’t afford.

Looking back now, I remember a conversation where he described a pillar of shit as a piece of art when the ice melted (!). Need I say more about the spirit and humour of the men who serve us up there?

Why We Need to Borrow Some Will From These Brave Men

I write this today because, thanks to Hanumanthappa, for once people know that such a dreadful battlefield exists in this country and that it has been at a constant war for decades.

There are manned stations at the Arctic and Antarctica too – but neither lack the sensitivity for human life.

Our forces need the best technology, best resources and all the support they can possibly get to survive each day at the Siachen. They fight not just the men across the border, but also the weather that denies them life every single minute.

We’ve got the skill, the technology, the knowledge; do we have the will? About time we borrowed some from the officers in arms.