Pratim Ranjan Bose
(The following was part of my presentation during a webinar on "Saga of Galwan" organised by Kolkata-based Institute of Social and Cultural Studies, on July 11)
India had two major concerns – both originating in China
- in the summer of 2020. The first one is a pandemic. The second one is a
deadly border clash at the inhospitable geographies of Galwan river valley,
bordering Beijing-controlled strategic Aksai Chin plateau, in the higher ridges
of Himalayas in Ladakh. India lost control over the plateau, in 1962.
More than the clash that caused deaths on either side,
it was the brutal and blatant nature of the Chinese offensive that shook the
nation. It pointed at the fragility of peace on the Northern border. Among the
positives, the incident revived the memories of a forgotten Indian explorer,
Ghulam Rassul Galwan, who chronicled hostilities of the Chinese way back in
1892, in his book “Servant of the Sahibs”.
Galwan, then a 14-year-old porter, was traveling with
Charles Murray, the 7th Earl of Dunmore, and Major Roche, in the Pamirs – the
junction of Central, South and East Asia. Those were the days when Tibet was
yet to be prised open (1904) by the British and Leh was an important town on
the silk routes connecting India with China, Central Asia and Russia.
From Leh, caravans used to move North - via-Nubra
valley, Karakoram Pass, Sanju Pass etc - to reach Yarkand in present day Uyghur
Autonomous Region in Xinjiang province of China. From here you could go in any
direction. The movement was both ways and the early invaders to India took to
this path to cross the mighty Himalayas.
Those were also the days of unending hostilities in the
region. Tajiks had just lost Xinjiang to China’s Qing dynasty, which itself
would collapse in another decade or two. Russia was pushing the boundaries
across Central Asia and were picking up fights with the local warlords,
including in Afghanistan, before invading Xinjiang in 1937. And, the British,
who had already established control over South and South East Asia, was wary of
Russian plans, particularly with respect to Tibet.
It was in those days, when Ladakh including Aksai Chin,
Gilgit-Baltistan and entire Kashmir were ruled by the Maharaja of Jammu; Galwan
used to accompany Sahibs on journeys lasting over months, on the silk routes.
Most of these visitors– like Lieutenant colonel Sir Francis Younghusband, who would
later lead a military offensive on Tibet, bringing forth the Anglo-Tibetan
Treaty of 1904 – were on strategic-diplomatic missions; and some - like Major
HH Godwin-Austen, the English topographer and geologist who determined the
height of world’s tallest peak K2 – were more interested in science,
geography, anthropology etc.
Galwan not only accompanied those noteworthy travelers but
he remembered those journeys almost to the last detail, with the burning desire
to write a book.
How extraordinary was that? OK. He was born in a poor
family in 1878. Raised by a single mother in abject poverty, as his father left
for some other woman. His grandfather was a robber. The word “Galwan” was
used in Kashmir to refer to social outcastes and people of disrepute – inferior
races or tribes[i],
robbers[ii]
etc. He was accompanying Sahibs to those harsh hilly tracks, riding above 18000
ft, from the age of nine. Formal education was out of his bounds. He was
married at the age of 14 but before he could spend time with her, she died.
Galwan was then camping in the hills.
During the India-China standoff in 2020, newspapers were
full of reports attributing Galwan valley to Ghulam Rassul Galwan and his
heroics, during the trip with Charles Murray - the “Lord Sahib”. But Galwan who had been
brutally honest in describing life, including his illicit affair, jail term
and/or the “lie matters”, didn’t mention any such achievement. Let us assume
that those pages were lost during the back and forth movement of the manuscript
between Galwan and the prime inspiration behind the book – a “poor
(American) Sahib”, Robert Barret and his wife – for nearly one and a half
decades.
Galwan started writing the book with barely a dozen
words in his stock. By the time the book came out in “breaking English” (his
editor didn’t write it for him but helped him express his free spirit) in 1924,
from London, with a foreword by Sir Younghusband; Galwan became the chief
native assistant of the British joint commissioner at Leh. But that book was
probably the sole purpose of his life. He died the very next year, in 1925, at
the age of 47.
What he left behind is not a literary work in the
traditional sense of the term. Galwan didn’t have the pedigree of Sarat Chandra
Das who was a civil engineer by training and ended up not only with a
travelogue (“Journey to Lhasa: The Diary of a spy”) but also as an outstanding
scholar on Tibetan language and culture (Das compiled a dictionary of Tibetan
language). The only commonality between Das and Galwan was: Both ended up
serving for Younghusband.
And, yet Galwan left behind an invaluable treasure – a
candid, common man’s take on life in the region. It is rich on socio-cultural
references like the sharp difference between Ladakhis and Baltis. An explorer
will be thrilled to read the hair-raising experience of crossing Mushtag Pass
that was once the shortest route between Yarkand and Baltistan. It will tell
you that Buddhism had a deep impression on life in the region, cutting across
religion. However, Hinduism suffered due to the practice of untouchability.
While reading this book you may reconstruct the history
of the region. Khotan, which was once an Iranian Saka Buddhist kingdom on the edge of the
Taklamakan desert now ended up in Xinjiang province of China. Most importantly,
it tells you that Ladakh of 19th century took pride in their Indian
identity and had deep distrust to China.
Before I end this presentation, I cannot but repeat one
incident from Galwan’s book. During that clash with the Chinese somewhere in
the Pamirs, in 1892, Galwan was the only one to be badly injured from his camp.
The Chinese promised to maintain peace and then attacked from the behind.
On the next day, Major Roche took account of the situation
in the other camp and told Rassul: “Don’t be sorry. Here is only you, one,
lying down. There among the Chinese, are seven men, lying down.”
[i] “Galwan, Galwan
Valley and the Great Game”. Kashmir Observer. June 23, 2020. https://kashmirobserver.net/2020/06/23/galwan-galwan-valley-and-the-great-game/
