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Ganju Lama, the ever-smiling VC Sahab

In the mid-1980s, we were stationed at the Binnaguri Cantonment, where my father, then a Major, was posted. Sometime in December 1987, we went on a trip to Sikkim, not very far from Binnaguri. During the three-day outing, we enjoyed...
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Photo for representational purpose only. istock file photo
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In the mid-1980s, we were stationed at the Binnaguri Cantonment, where my father, then a Major, was posted. Sometime in December 1987, we went on a trip to Sikkim, not very far from Binnaguri. During the three-day outing, we enjoyed driving on hill roads, went around Gangtok bazaar, did boating on the Chhangu Lake, and even exchanged smiles with Chinese soldiers from just about 25 yards at Nathu La.

On our way back, we noticed a multitude of people in maroon robes gathered in front of a house. We joined the silent group and noticed an elderly Lama joyfully conversing with the gathering. We received his blessings.

Before leaving, Papa told Lamaji that he was a serving Major on a private visit to Sikkim. Hearing this, the Lama immediately stood up, saluted smartly, and said, ‘Ram Ram Sahab.” He shook Papa’s hand with both hands like Gorkhas do, and with a childlike-smile spoke in English, “Sahab, I am Gyatso Shangderpa but became Ganju Lama the day I joined 7 Gorkha Rifles in 1942. And I am happy at that.”

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The villagers addressed him as VC Sahab. His smile and simplicity were infectious, and his smartness defied his 65 years of age. Back in Binnaguri, Papa came to know that Ganju Lama had been awarded the Victoria Cross (VC) during World War II.

Three months later, while on an annual training exercise in Sikkim, Papa met VC Sahab again and got more information first-hand.

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Thirty-four years on, during the compilation of data on Indian Victoria Cross winners, this is what Papa narrated to us — it was early 1940s and as World War II raged, in Burma, the British were in humiliating retreat while the Japanese were unstoppable in their advance up the north towards India. The recruitment drive in India was on full throttle.

The young man, a Bhutia from Sikkim, standing in line for recruitment in the Gorkha Regiment was unlikely to make it. He was tall, with decidedly un-Gorkha features. When his turn came, the recruitment officer looked at him and nodded. Bhutia then moved on to the Indian clerk who was writing the recruits’ particulars. “What’s your name?”

“Gyatso Shangderpa.”

“What? Say again.”

The clerk scratched his head and looked at the fair Bhutia boy; smooth hairless face and head tonsured like a Lama. “What’s your age?”

“Seventeen.”

The clerk got up, went to the recruiting Sahab and said, “Sir, he is less than 18 years.” “Never mind his age,” the Sahab glared at him. The clerk called Gyatso Shangderpa, and said, “Look here boy. You will have trouble in the army with this quite unpronounceable name. So, I am writing your name literally — you are bald, and you are a Lama. So, you are for the purpose of service in His Majesty’s army, Ganju Lama.”

Ganju Lama was posted to 1/7th Gorkha Rifles. A lightly savage Bhutia from the Sikkim jungles, now a rifleman, and not a Gorkha in a Gorkha battalion, for whatever reasons, got his first assignment as Batman (helper to an officer in war/peace) to Major Roy Gribble, B Company Commander.

1/7th Gorkha Rifles was then fighting in Burma as part of 48 Infantry Brigade; with two of the three Gorkha battalions, it was famously known as Aayo Brigade. Major Gribble recalled, “On the first day, Lama came into my dugout at 4 am, carrying a mess tin of tea. He did not say, ‘Ram Ram’ or ‘Sir’. He just said ‘Utt’ (get up). Before I responded, he jerked my camp cot hard with his knee and repeated ‘Utt, cha pee’ (get up, drink tea). The boy was young and surely had not yet learned the basic military etiquette but was bold, fearless, and took initiative. I took to him instantly.”

The company had recently received the ‘Projector Infantry Anti-Tank’ weapon, commonly referred to as PIAT. Tall and strong, Ganju Lama was considered perfectly fit as a PIAT gunner. This was, however, a dubious honour as PIAT required great strength to handle and also carried the risk of firing it standing up fully exposed to the enemy fire. It also had a fearsome kick if fired from the shoulder. The PIAT, despite its drawbacks, was effectively used.

Ganju Lama was one among the six awarded the Victoria Cross for boldly using the PIAT in the Burma Campaign; he knocked out two Japanese tanks firing PIAT deployed just about 30 yards from the targets. He went on to win the Military Medal as well for his exceptional bravery during the battle along the Tiddim-Imphal road in Burma. For 19 years, Ganju Lama remained oblivious to a piece of lead he carried in his body till a large swelling appeared on his leg. When operated upon, a Japanese bullet was extracted out.

Rifleman Ganju ‘Gyatso Shangderpa’ Lama, VC, MM, rose to the rank of Honorary Captain and retired from the Army in 1972, as “Honorary ADC to the President of India for life”.

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