By Prashant Dikshit
This story is essentially to capture the mystery and the spirit of adventure in the narratives of the aircrew and airmen, as it unfolded, as they arrived on a transfer to Air Force Station Hasimara. Some as far back as more than four decades ago. Many even in the year 1963. Hasimara is the closest Indian air base to the Chumbi Valley near the tri-junction between the Indian state of Sikkim, Bhutan and the ominous presence of the Peoples’ Republic of China . For the purveyors of India’s strategic considerations, eminent Sinologist John Garver had called the Chumbi Valley “the single most strategically important piece of real estate in the entire Himalayan region”. The Chumbi Valley intervenes between Sikkim and Bhutan in the south of the high Himalayas, pointing towards India’s Siliguri Corridor like a “dagger”.
Open sources inform that the base came into being in the year 1963 after the debacle of the 1962 war and a decision was made to set up an Air Force Base at that location. It now houses IAF’s most recent acquisition, a Rafale Squadron. The station was activated on April 7, 1963, when an IAF Caribou aircraft landed and dropped off its first Station Commander, Wing Commander DG King-Lee. But for the personnel and their families, as one gathers, those days, the established means to reach Hasimara was to arrive at the railway station by a metre gauge railway train. Which seemingly steamed in, past midnight in pitch darkness and halted for merely three minutes. Rest was an adventure.
It is in this backdrop let us read as to what these pioneers had to say.
Deb Gohain, war veteran combat fighter pilot wrote, “All the all timers who had set foot on Hasimara would have heard of this folklore that has been going around for years of the welcome that awaits each passenger at the dark, desolate, rain-soaked station surrounded by tall trees amidst an impenetrable forest. It is said that as the train in the meter gauge slowly chugs into the dark platform, one cannot be sure if it is the right station. However, as passengers peer into the darkness to get a glimpse of the nonexistent platform signboard, they notice a white bearded old man with a lantern walking on the platform from one end to another announcing in a dragging voice…H..A..S..I..M..A.. R.. A..
The train stoppage is only for two to three minutes and as the train recedes into the darkness so does the old man with the lantern!!”
The painting of this benevolent old man was created by Deb Gohain which has made history. Deb is an accomplished artist whose paintings are eminently famous.
A comment on Deb’s picture :
“The painting has captured the essence of the legend. The unearthly, foreboding and eerie visual is straight out of a Sherlock Holmes or an Agatha Christie mystery. One can virtually hear the distant whistle of the train emerging from the mist with just the glow of the lantern as illumination and the deeply lined face of the Station Master virtually inviting you to experience the mysteries of the place. The howling of wolves (were that possible) would cap the whole picture.”
Extracts from one more account:- “I must have arrived a couple of times by Assam Mail. … I think it used to arrive at some unearthly hour, when even ghosts hesitate to roam. And yes, there was a tired, tamul-induced sleepy voice that announced “ Hasimara “or was it our imagination !! I remember the time I arrived, newly married all the way from Bombay. It was in Mar ‘71. The train pulls in very late, well past midnight. Our compartment is way beyond the small platform, and I am desperately peering out for some sign of life. …..few others peering at us from way down in complete darkness, asking us to get off with our suitcases…. the guys are shoving glasses of dark Rum into our hands and shouting “ Welcome” accompanied by incessant beating of some tins. But I am desperately trying to explain to them that my new fridge is in the brake van, which is next to the engine, and needs to be offloaded. But then who is listening !! In a few minutes, there is a loud whistle and the train starts pulling away…while I am being force fed Rum by course mates who have reached a “ happy state “ We just stand there and laugh, helplessly, as the twinkling red light on the last bogey pulls away. Neeru ( wife) looks at me aghast and I try to explain, with a shrug, averting her shocked looks, that it’s okay.. Retrieving the Allwyn fridge after 20 odd days is another story….”
Another account:- … given the same briefing of a man with a lantern and 2 minutes stop. Expecting reaching Hashimara, train stopped and he first threw holdall but before he could throw his trunk, he realised he had not heard the noise of holdall hitting the ground. By then the train started moving and stopped after two minutes and he saw the man with a lantern. He got down there and realised that the train had stopped on the bridge and luggage had gone in the water. Thank God he saved his trunk.
A sufi culmination finally :- Each person looks at his(or her) experiences from differing perspectives. A poet has captured this in an Urdu couplet:
nakhizan me hai koi teergi, nabahaar me koi roshni
yeh nazarnazarke chirag hain, kahinbhujgaye kahinjalgaye
(Neither is only darkness in a gloom nor only pleasure in spring
Only your lights will show, sometimes on sometimes off)
The author is Indian Air Force Veteran and a strategic affairs commentator
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