The trip to Arunachal Pradesh has just begun. We have crossed the Saraighat Bridge over the ocean-like Brahmaputra and are heading further northeast. As we move toward the mountains, we veer away from the river.
The rains have only just arrived, they are warming up. After just a few weeks of showers, the landscape already looks drenched. The river is swelling, and the countryside is dotted with pools of all sizes, some right beside the small houses of villages that spring up along the way. A few more weeks of rain and there will be mayhem. The monsoon is both a boon and a curse to this part of the world.
The landscape looks heavenly to someone not from here: shimmering pools of water, grey skies waiting for a cue, and tin-roofed houses on stilts in the distance , all soothing to the senses. Streams run alongside the road, feeding off the Brahmaputra and puffing up in size as the weeks go by. Even the rivulets here look capable of flooding.
We have a long journey ahead , about ten hours to reach Tawang. We whiz through the plains of Assam, and soon the landscape changes. The mountains rise, and the road begins to climb. We have crossed into Arunachal Pradesh. There is hardly any traffic. This is a region where travel permits are required; the state borders China and has a massive military presence.
In addition to the Chinese threat, there is local insurgency. It shows: I begin spotting men in army uniforms standing by the roadside, gazing into the dense valleys. A pretty monotonous task, in my opinion—watching a vast mountain slope thick with bushes and grass while keeping an eye out for some misguided madman trying to kill you.
It is a curse of this modern world. A beautiful land laced by the unease of the human world.
With about 70 km left to go to Tawang, we reach the Sela Pass. At 13,700 feet above sea level, this pass is the gateway to Tawang. At those rarified heights, a sparkling lake shows up as you go around the bend. More about Sela later.
The first of the stops after going past Sela is as inspirational as it gets. It is a shrine but not the normal shrine where a god from local mythology is worshipped, but a shrine of a soldier who is considered a guardian spirit of the region.
This is a land where stories of monks and soldiers crisscross. The teachings of Buddhism and the land of monasteries and tribal faiths have soldiers for company. Men and women guarding the borders in a world that has more angst than peace.
We are at the Jaswant Singh Rawat Memorial.
The story of the shrine is one that will surely blur the lines between history and folklore. At the Sela Pass, standing at nearly 14,000 feet, travelers and soldiers alike stop to pay their respects, not to a deity, but to a man.
A man immortalized for a sheer story of bravery and persistence.
The Story of Jaswant Singh Rawat
It is 1962, and the Sino-Indian conflict is raging. The Chinese have advanced well into Indian territory. Tawang, home to India’s oldest monastery, has been overrun, and the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) moves toward Tezpur, deep into Assam.
The winter is harsh, and the terrain, as always, is rugged and unforgiving.
The 4th Battalion of the Garhwal Rifles was tasked with defending the Nuranang bridge. The odds were catastrophic. The Indian troops were vastly outnumbered, undersupplied, and fighting in summer uniforms against a brutal Himalayan winter.
The conflict at Nuranang broke out on November 17, 1962. The Chinese had set up a medium machine gun (MMG) in a dominant position, pinning down the Indian troops. The advantage of elevation belonged to the PLA; they knew it, and they pressed it home.
The battalion was pinned down and battered by gunfire from the heights. Men fell. Positions were being torn apart. The gun had to be silenced, but closing in on it meant crossing open ground under direct fire.
Rifleman Jaswant Singh Rawat and two other men—Lance Naik Trilok Singh Negi and Rifleman Gopal Singh Gusain—volunteered to go and destroy the enemy MMG position.
It was a near-suicidal mission, and the weather was an enemy too. The trenches were frozen and the rocky outcrops of the massive hills were unforgiving.
Under the cover of boulders, scraggy bushes, and trees, and at the risk of heavy enemy fire, the trio crawled forward to within 10 to 15 yards of the target.
While the Lance Naik provided covering fire with his Sten gun, Rifleman Jaswant Singh Rawat and the other rifleman hurled grenades at the Chinese MMG. The grenades exploded, and even before the dust settled, both of them rushed toward the MMG position. They saw two Chinese soldiers lying dead and another, though badly wounded, still holding the weapon. They jumped on him and overpowered him.
Rifleman Jaswant Singh Rawat snatched the MMG, and both men returned to their own position under the covering fire provided by the Lance Naik. As they were entering their trenches, the enemy opened automatic fire from close range. Rifleman Jaswant Singh Rawat was hit on the head and died on the spot, still holding the captured MMG in his hand. The other rifleman, though badly wounded, managed to slide into the trench and was saved.
Rifleman Jaswant Singh Rawat had lost his life in a mission that probably saved many in his battalion. He was posthumously awarded the Maha Vir Chakra, India’s second-highest military decoration.
A life sacrificed in the rarified air of the Eastern frontier.
And he was all of just 21 years old.
The Tribute
The shrine that stands alongside the road is a glowing tribute to the bravery of Rawat. In a deeply respectful and unique tradition, the Indian Army still considers him alive. He continues to receive posthumous promotions and currently holds the honorary rank of Major General.
The soldiers manning the memorial still make his bed every night, and his boots are polished daily. He is still granted annual “leave,” and soldiers formally “escort” his portrait back to his hometown.
While the Army honors its hero as graciously as it does, the local legend is even more sparkling. Many stories swirl around the brave rifleman. The one that is most widely known, though not a part of the official military record, is a fascinating tale.
The Lone Sentinel
Local legend says that when his battalion was ordered to retreat after the MMG was captured due to overwhelming enemy numbers, Jaswant Singh decided to stay put alone.
Folklore suggests that Jaswant was assisted by two local Monpa girls, Sela and Nura, who helped him move between various firing points. For the next 72 hours, Jaswant performed a masterful feat of tactical deception.
With the help of the Monpa girls, he set up several bunkers. Moving rapidly between them, he fired from different angles. This constant change in position led the PLA to believe they were fighting an entire battalion. He kept the resistance going for three days before the Chinese realized they had been tricked.
As the PLA launched a massive final assault, Rawat could no longer hold the line.
There are two versions of his end. One suggests that upon realizing he was surrounded and out of ammunition, Jaswant used his final bullet on himself to avoid capture. The other, more harrowing account, claims he was captured and executed by the Chinese forces, who were so incensed by his solitary resistance that they severed his head and took it back as a trophy.
However, in a rare gesture of military respect, the Chinese commander later returned a bronze bust of Jaswant Singh to the Indian Army, deeply moved by the sheer bravery the young soldier had displayed.
There is no official acknowledgement of this folklore, but like all great legends, it remains an undeniable testament to human courage.
The Legend of “Baba” Jaswant Singh: Why Nuranang Matters
The Battle of Nuranang was one of the few instances during the 1962 war where Indian troops successfully repelled a Chinese assault, largely due to the tenacity of the 4th Garhwal Rifles. It serves as a permanent reminder that in the theater of war, the spirit of a single individual can occasionally stall the tide of an entire army.
Jaswant Singh Rawat’s legacy is etched into the very stones of the Sela Pass. To the soldiers stationed there today, he isn’t a ghost; he is a permanent sentry, a “Baba” who watches over the borders he died to protect. His story remains a testament to the fact that while a soldier’s life can be taken, their duty and their deeds are eternal.
We pay our respects to the brave heart Jaswant Singh and move on toward Tawang. The mountains stand around us, silent and enduring, just as they have done for millions of years.
The army can be seen everywhere.
A reminder of the fragility of peace and also of a war that was meaningless.
Hi I am Sudhir. I run three very different corners of the digital world. On India Wayfarer, I share document my travels and life as it unfolds around us. Stories of ancient engineering marvels, forgotten trails, and timeless architecture. You will also find me at Sportz Corner, where I write on football, cricket, and anything sport. And then there’s The Wrinkled Memo, where I pencil in my thoughts , sometimes satirical, from a three decade long life in the corporate jungle.
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