When I took on the Chinese
On a trip to Bum La in Arunachal Pradesh, Girish Deshpande agreed to arm-wrestle a Chinese captain and hoped for the best
Back in September, after being on the road for two days in Guwahati in Arunachal Pradesh, we finally reached Tawang. Post an early morning prayer session at the massive Tawang monastery, which dwarfs the town itself, we quickly completed some formalities with the authorities for a pass to visit Bum La.
Bum La, at 15,000ft above sea level, is home to the last Indian army check-post on the Line of Actual Control (LAC) in this sector. LAC, also called the McMohan Line, is an imaginary and often disputed border between India and China.
We were greeted by the effervescent Subedar Sohan Singh’s unit and taken to Friendship Point. Here, as a mark of Indo-Sino friendship, one is supposed to offer a small rock onto a pile. Surprisingly, we spotted a truckload of Chinese soldiers led by their officer (who later identified himself as Captain Fem Lai) on the other side of the LAC. We later found that they were there to make preparations for the Chinese National Day which falls on October 1.
Captain Lai offered us a smoke. When my friend and I politely refused, he suddenly challenged me to a game of panja (arm wrestling). I accepted it, totally oblivious to the fact that I am almost 50 and he seemed a lot younger and professionally trained to fight in mountain warfare. It was too late, though. I convinced myself that victory here meant victory for the entire nation.
We locked our fists. For what seemed an eternity, our elbows didn’t budge. For his small frame, the officer was mighty strong.
Suddenly, as I strained with all I could, I began to get a sense of advantage. It was well over a minute and my heart was pumping hard. My lungs protested, but I couldn’t quit then. Then, with one final heave, I yanked his hand. This put Caption Lai in a hopeless position, but I was wary of him even then, much the same way as the world is of the Chinese. But that was all I could give then. I knew I had the energy only for a few seconds more. Surprisingly, that’s exactly what Captain Lai seemed to have sensed for himself, too. He pulled away.
I had won. And my arm? Well, it had left me. I managed to mumble some consolation and amidst much bonhomie at both sides, we parted ways.
Once back in the camp tent, Sohan Singh offered me a plate of steaming hot suji-ka-halwa. “Ji, aap ne toh dat kar jawab diya (You gave them a befitting reply),” he said.
On the drive back to Tawang, I realised I had a great story to tell my friends and my kids back home. I arm-wrestled a Chinese army officer. And won.
On a trip to Bum La in Arunachal Pradesh, Girish Deshpande agreed to arm-wrestle a Chinese captain and hoped for the best
Back in September, after being on the road for two days in Guwahati in Arunachal Pradesh, we finally reached Tawang. Post an early morning prayer session at the massive Tawang monastery, which dwarfs the town itself, we quickly completed some formalities with the authorities for a pass to visit Bum La.
Bum La, at 15,000ft above sea level, is home to the last Indian army check-post on the Line of Actual Control (LAC) in this sector. LAC, also called the McMohan Line, is an imaginary and often disputed border between India and China.
We were greeted by the effervescent Subedar Sohan Singh’s unit and taken to Friendship Point. Here, as a mark of Indo-Sino friendship, one is supposed to offer a small rock onto a pile. Surprisingly, we spotted a truckload of Chinese soldiers led by their officer (who later identified himself as Captain Fem Lai) on the other side of the LAC. We later found that they were there to make preparations for the Chinese National Day which falls on October 1.
Captain Lai offered us a smoke. When my friend and I politely refused, he suddenly challenged me to a game of panja (arm wrestling). I accepted it, totally oblivious to the fact that I am almost 50 and he seemed a lot younger and professionally trained to fight in mountain warfare. It was too late, though. I convinced myself that victory here meant victory for the entire nation.
We locked our fists. For what seemed an eternity, our elbows didn’t budge. For his small frame, the officer was mighty strong.
Suddenly, as I strained with all I could, I began to get a sense of advantage. It was well over a minute and my heart was pumping hard. My lungs protested, but I couldn’t quit then. Then, with one final heave, I yanked his hand. This put Caption Lai in a hopeless position, but I was wary of him even then, much the same way as the world is of the Chinese. But that was all I could give then. I knew I had the energy only for a few seconds more. Surprisingly, that’s exactly what Captain Lai seemed to have sensed for himself, too. He pulled away.
I had won. And my arm? Well, it had left me. I managed to mumble some consolation and amidst much bonhomie at both sides, we parted ways.
Once back in the camp tent, Sohan Singh offered me a plate of steaming hot suji-ka-halwa. “Ji, aap ne toh dat kar jawab diya (You gave them a befitting reply),” he said.
On the drive back to Tawang, I realised I had a great story to tell my friends and my kids back home. I arm-wrestled a Chinese army officer. And won.
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