The story of the forgotten bravery | बिर्सिएको विरताको कथा by Ajita Simkhada

I am the great-granddaughter of a Gurkha hero who has no direct familia Gurkha links. This article recounts my deeply moving experience of witnessing my cultural and familial heritage honoured within this esteemed institution. I wholeheartedly encourage you to visit and lend your support to this remarkable place.

In February, I was profoundly blessed by this jagat / universe [the term Jagat was chosen as it was my great-granddad’s name: Jagat Bahadur Simkhada], and I was fortunate enough to visit the Gurkha Museum Trust.  The portraits adorning the walls uttered the silent language of the brave soldiers; their voices echoed with immortal cries.  The voices told me, “I smiled as I rested on the earth”.  In their final moments, they cried out, “Oh Mother, I am dying”.  Today, I am putting their silent voices into words. 

The witnesses of these tales were the companions who offered the last drop of water before these brave soldiers took their final breath.  Today, The Gurkha Museum Trust, who are the custodians of these stories, bring justice to the stories of the warriors and honours the legacy of their bravery.  

As a young girl, I was captivated by the tales of the army.  Whether recounting the war in Burma to the fierce battle of Nalapani, the relentless pursuit of unity by Prithvi Narayan Shah, the conflicts involving the East India Company, or the monumental world wars, I would often drift into slumber, enveloped by these extraordinary narratives. 

The walls in The Gurkha Museum echoed with memories of my great-grandfather, whose renowned tales I had only known through stories.  That day, during my visit, I was finally granted the chance to meet him face-to-face within the hallowed halls of the Gurkha Museum. 

His name was Jagat Bahadur Simkhada.  

When my great-grandmother was pregnant with my grandfather, he died in the war in Burma.  When I think of him, his name is linked to the universe – representing the greater good and the pursuit of peace in the world.  He sacrificed his life for that purpose.  What dreams, thoughts, and emotions filled him as he took his first steps toward war and death? What message did he leave for his beloved pregnant wife? 

My father would often sing the songs that my great-grandfather sang on the day he departed: “भात खाउँ तरकारी घिरौंला वैरी मारी गाउँ घर फिरौंला” 

The son he never had the chance to meet longed for him, yet their paths never crossed until death claimed him while he was still waiting.  His beloved, to whom he had promised a future, waited patiently along the journey he took, hoping to be reunited in his embrace.  Instead, she received only a letter announcing his death—a letter she held tightly against her pillow as she witnessed her life unfold without him. 

He named the chautri he planted Gurung Chautrio, and this very chautri continues to enrich the earth with oxygen, sustaining life for all creatures.  It seems as though his spirit endures within that chautri.  In the Dhading district, there is a village called Ratmati, where the paths, forests, and jungles, along with the birds and animals, appear to be patiently awaiting the return of those soldiers. 

The timeless mountains stand tall, and in their presence, I am reminded of my great-grandfather.  I pay my respects to him and the countless Gurkha soldiers who served and sacrificed.  As I gazed at the portraits displayed prominently in The Gurkha Museum and absorbed their stories, tears filled my eyes, and I know they will keep coming.  At such a young age, he faced the horrors of war, uttering his final words, “Oh Mother, I am dying.”  The Gurkha Museum seeks to grasp the profound sorrow woven into the narratives of these brave soldiers. 

This unique Museum has given me the incredible opportunity to meet my great-grandfather.  The memories, once buried deep within me, have resurfaced as I recall the enchanting stories of his tales.  In that moment, I met my great-grandfather, and for the first time, we shed tears together.  With your grace, I dedicate this day to you.  Maybe my daughter, Anusha, was led here to revive and share the tales and spirits of you and the brave soldiers who walked before you.  Please shower your granddaughter with countless blessings.  You were tall, courageous, and striking; I find myself trying to capture your essence through these words.  My hope is that your once-forgotten tale can be shared with this generation and those yet to come.  Perhaps these words will help you endure through time, a certainty I hold dear.  I wish for your spirit to intertwine fully with my own consciousness.  May our bond transcend this life and continue into the next. 

These are my heartfelt wishes, dear great-grandfather.  I extend my deepest condolences to the brave soldiers who sacrificed their lives for peace.  Today, I offer these words as a poignant pause in the narrative of their stories, for now.