The Occasion: Diamond Jubilee of 75 Medium Regiment (Basantar River)

In December 2025, I travelled to Delhi to attend the Diamond Jubilee celebrations of the 75 Medium Regiment – a momentous reunion of serving officers, soldiers, and veterans of a Regiment bound by shared history and sacrifice.

The Commanding Officer, Colonel AK Singh, along with every officer and soldier and their families of the Regiment, left no stone unturned to ensure the occasion was a grand and memorable one for all of us.

Returning to my parent Regiment for its Diamond Jubilee was not just a visit; it was a pilgrimage to the very soil where I took my baby steps as an officer. Stepping into the Regiment’s premises, I was instantly overwhelmed by a flood of emotions that spanned decades. This is the Regiment where I shed blood and sweat, where the raw potential of youth was forged into the resolve of a soldier.

The reunion was a powerful tapestry of the past and the present. When old comrades met, we did not merely shake hands; we hugged like long-lost brothers, bound by a silent code and shared hardships that time cannot erode. In those embraces, the years of separation vanished, replaced by the unbreakable kinship of difficult days and the cozy warmth of messmates.

Watching the present torchbearers – the sharp, young officers now carrying the colours – filled me with bittersweet nostalgia. Seeing them, we saw reflections of our younger selves, full of fire and zeal. It was a proud realisation that while facing change, the soul of the Regiment remains steadfast. I felt an inexplicable pride in my chest, having contributed to a legacy that continues to shine brilliantly sixty years on.

Amidst the grand festivities and warmth of camaraderie, the most profound moment for me was meeting Shakti Singh – the younger brother of Captain Pratap Singh. Our paths had not crossed for four decades, since 1985 when our Regiment was stationed in Delhi. The memory remains vivid: Pratap and I, both young bachelors at the time, were wandering through the bustling lanes of Connaught Place. Suddenly, Pratap’s eyes widened, and he urgently gestured toward our vehicle. “Sir, get into the Jeep – let’s get out of here!” he exclaimed. He had spotted Shakti nearby with Jyoti. In a typical display of conservative brotherly tact, Pratap didn’t want to disrupt the status quo or cause Shakti any needless embarrassment by revealing that he knew about the secret relationship. We made a swift tactical retreat, a moment of lighthearted protection that I carry with me ever since.

The fleeting image of Shakti and his companion, Jyoti, once seemed frozen in time – a distant memory from decades ago. On the morning of December 16, 2025, I found myself face-to-face with them again. Seeing Shakti and Jyoti now, forty years later, felt like bridging a lifetime of silence, turning a humorous memory of youth into a deeply moving connection to the past. Now they are the proud parents of Shrishti Pratap Singh; their lives are a testimony to a bond woven from love and shared history. Shrishti bears a name of deep significance, chosen to honour her father’s lifelong hero, Captain Pratap Singh. Jyoti, the pretty and petite young secret of those carefree days was now a woman of substance, a distinguished Judge of the Delhi High Court. 

History returned home on 16 December 2025, as a new war memorial was unveiled by Shakti at the former Sikh Regiment Lines in Meerut. Commemorating Basantar Dayalongside the Regiment’s Diamond Jubilee, the inauguration was a poignant milestone in our heritage. Set against a backdrop of deep Regimental significance, the memorial serves as a permanent testament to our lineage.

Against the backdrop of grounds steeped in martial heritage, the unveiling transcended the ceremonial; it was a symbolic homecoming, a return to the very soil where generations of soldiers had marched, trained, and departed for battle. On a day already consecrated by history, this tribute served as a powerful reaffirmation of the Regiment’s unbroken covenant with its past – a solemn nod to the valour that binds every member of The Basantar Family, past and present, in an unending chain of sacrifice and pride.

A Tearful Embrace: The Weight of Remembrance

The day’s ceremonies began with a solemn wreath-laying ceremony at the Quarter guard. We paid homage to the brave sons who made the ultimate sacrifice for the motherland: Captain SC Sehgal, Vir Chakra and Gunner Premachandran from the 1971 Indo-Pak War; Captain Pratap Singh, Maha Vir Chakra; and Subedar Sheesh Ram, who fell on the icy heights of the Siachen Glacier.

After the ceremony, Veteran Colonel Mahaveer Singh – our Commanding Officer from 1983 to 1988 – approached Shakti Singh. Without a word, they embraced each other. Tears rolled down the octogenarian’s cheeks. It was a moment of silent, profound emotion that spoke volumes.

What lay behind that tearful hug? To understand the emotion, we must rewind to1988.

The Choice: Siachen or Brigade Headquarters

In December 1987, Colonel Mahaveer summoned Captain Pratap and me. Our Regiment was to induct its first Observation Post team into the Siachen Glacier in March 1988. One of us would lead that team and the other would be attached to Brigade Headquarters as an administrative staff officer for six months. The choice was ours to make – or so it seemed.

Captain Pratap, a Short Service Commission officer commissioned in September 1983, had not opted for a permanent commission. He had decided to take release from the army after completing five years of service. In January 1988, armed with his release application, Pratap walked into Colonel Mahaveer’s office. He made a compelling case: he wanted to participate in one final operation before his release, to serve his country in the field one last time. He convinced Colonel Mahaveer that he should lead the Siachen team. I, left with no choice, therefore, moved to the Brigade Headquarters.

The Supreme Sacrifice

On 27 May 1988, Brigadier DS Chowdhary, our Brigade Commander, called me to his office. His face was grave. He broke the news: Captain Pratap Singh had laid down his life while performing his duties on the glacier.

I immediately called our CO, Colonel Mahaveer. The line was silent. He did not utter a word. I rushed back to the Regiment and went straight to his office. It was the only time I ever saw tears in his eyes.

A Family of Warriors

Lieutenant Pratap Singh joined our Regiment in April 1985, when we were stationed in Delhi. Two months earlier, he had lost his elder brother, Squadron Leader Gajraj Singh, a Jaguar Test Pilot of the Indian Air Force, in a tragic air crash in Rajasthan. On compassionate grounds, Lieutenant Pratap was posted to Delhi to care for his aging parents, who lived in Basai Darapur village, near Punjabi Bagh – the reason why he sought release from the army. His family carried a proud military legacy: his elder brother, Colonel Ran Singh, was serving with an Air Defence Regiment of the Indian Army – now settled in the US, while his father, Captain Khazan Singh, was a veteran of the Second World War.

The Citation: A Story of Unparalleled Gallantry

On 26 January 1989, the nation recognised Captain Pratap Singh’s supreme sacrifice, posthumously awarding him the Maha Vir Chakra, India’s second-highest gallantry award.

The citation read:

“Captain Pratap Singh was deployed as an Observation Post Officer in the Siachen area in April 1988.

The adversary made repeated attempts to retake a key post vital for our defences of Siachen, without success. Their last attempt to take the post was on 09 May 1988, when they fixed four ropes and a ladder-system on the ice-wall below the post for the purpose. This attack was successfully beaten back by our forces. The ropes and the ladder-system fixed by the adversary, however, remained in position, making it possible for them to be used again in fresh attempts.

It was imperative that the fixed ropes be cut and the ladder removed to prevent further attempts. On 18 May 1988, Second Lieutenant Ashok Choudhary successfully reached and cut four of the ropes. On 26 May 1988, it was decided to cut the remaining two ropes and remove the ladder. Captain Pratap Singh undertook this mission with the help of a jawan, descending the ice wall.

On reaching the location, Captain Pratap Singh discovered a large quantity of ammunition and grenades lying at the head of the ropes. While examining them, a booby-trapped grenade detonated, severely wounding his right arm and chest. Despite his grievous injuries, the brave officer crawled forward to the fixed ropes and cut them with his knife. He then unfixed the ladder system and let it fall down the ice wall. Inching back to his own rope to ascend, he collapsed due to his severe wounds and made the supreme sacrifice for the nation.

Captain Pratap Singh thus displayed conspicuous gallantry and extraordinary valour in eliminating a grave threat to a key post in the vital defences of the Siachen Glacier, at the cost of his life.”

Epilogue: A Legacy of Courage

That morning in December 2025, as Colonel Mahaveer held Shakti Singh in a tearful embrace, the years melted away. The pain of loss, the pride in valour, and the bonds of brotherhood that transcend time converged in that single moment.

Captain Pratap Singh’s story is not just one of sacrifice; it is a testament to the spirit of a soldier who chose one last mission over comfort, who faced certain death with unwavering resolve, and whose name remains etched in the icy heights he gave his life to defend.

For those of us who knew him, his brother Shakti, and the Regiment that carries his memory forward, Captain Pratap Singh lives on – not just in citations and awards, but in the hearts of all of us who understand soldiering in its fullest sense.

Most of you would wonder what made Captain Pratap Singh choose the difficult Siachen stint over a cozy staff job with only months remaining for his release from the army. For me who knew his pulse, it was a natural Pratap Singh decision. A decision of an altruistic leader. A decision driven by a profound duty-bound mindset and warrior first ethos. He did not want to be confined to the monotony of an administrative office. Given the opportunity, he sought a high adrenaline psychological peak to self-actualise and define his legacy. To Pratap it was all too natural.  For bureaucrats and politicians who sit in profound judgement over death/ disability compensation of soldiers and veterans, such decisions are simply far too difficult to comprehend.

What about the emotions of Col Mahaveer Singh the Commanding Officer?

In the terrible loneliness of command, he must have faced a tremendous psychological tug of war in acceding to the choice made by Captain Pratap Singh. His grief was not that of a Commanding Officer losing an officer, but the grief of a father who quite unwillingly allowed his son to walk into fire. 

The year was 1983. I was a young Second Lieutenant, and our Regiment -75 Medium Regiment (Basantar River) – was deployed at the Pokhran Field Firing Ranges in Rajasthan. The same arid expanse that witnessed India’s nuclear dawn. We were there for our annual gunnery exercises, firing the medium guns that were our lifeblood.

After the firing concluded, our Commanding Officer, Colonel Mahaveer Singh, assigned me a task that would test not just my technical knowledge but my ability to lead and instill confidence. I was to conduct Grenade Throwing practice for twenty soldiers – mostly raw recruits. My assistants were two Havildars – M Sreedharan & NT Mathew – and I was allotted 60 High Explosive (HE) Grenade No. 36.

I looked at the young men assembled before me. Their faces betrayed a quiet fear. The fear of the unknown.  The grenade, in regimental lore, had acquired monstrous proportions. Myths swirled around it – tales of unpredictability, of destruction that could turn upon the thrower. My first battle was not against any hypothetical enemy; it was against that fear. My own emotions when I first handled a live grenade back in the academy flooded my consciousness and I was acutely aware that at the end of the day if that fear still lingered in the minds of my boys, I would have failed in my task. 

The Weapon: A Legacy of William Mills

The grenade we were to handle was officially designated the Grenade Hand No. 36M. It was a direct descendant of the Mills Bomb, patented and manufactured by William Mills at the Mills Munition Factory in Birmingham, England, in 1915. Its distinctive pineapple-shaped, cast-iron body was grooved not primarily for fragmentation – contrary to popular belief – but for ease of grip. The waterproof variant, # 36M, had served the British Army through two World Wars.

A bit of theory is always good before practice. And so I began

This was a high-explosive, anti-personnel fragmentation weapon. It could be hand-thrown or rifle-launched. Its central striker was held in place by a close-hand lever, secured by a pin. Upon release, a spring-loaded striker ignited a time-delay fuse. Originally set at seven seconds, combat experience in the Battle of France (1940) proved this delay dangerously generous – defenders could escape or even throw it back. It was reduced to four seconds – and that was the margin between life and death – the 4 seconds that transformed a raw recruit into a seasoned soldier.

 Fear Wrapped in a Handful of Serrated Metal

I began with the fundamentals. I explained the mechanism with deliberate calm: hold the lever down, pull the pin with the opposite hand, throw. Release ignites the fuse. Four seconds. Detonation.

Then came the questions. One soldier, earnest and anxious, asked, “Sir, in the movies, they bite the pin off. Is that correct?”

“No,” I said. “You pull it with your fingers. Your teeth are not tools. And remember there is nothing to panic once you pull the pin. It’s perfectly safe so long as the safety lever is in place, firmly held in your hand.”

Another asked, voice barely steady: “Sir, what happens if you drop a primed grenade?”

I looked at the grenade in my hand, lever pressed, pin still in place, I threw it with deliberate force on the desert sand. “Nothing,” I said.

The silence that followed was absolute. In that moment, they understood this was not magic. It was mechanics. It was training. It was trust.

The Practice: Stone to Steel

We began with stones—roughly the size and weight of a grenade. Ideally we should have used drill grenades, but we didn’t have any and so had to make do with stones. They practiced the motion: right arm straight from behind, like an over-arm bowler in cricket. High trajectory. Accuracy over distance. The grenade is a close-quarter weapon; it must clear obstacles and land precisely. A long throw is useless if it misses its mark.

I drilled them on the sequence:

• Grip the grenade in the right hand, base down, lever under the fingers, thumb below the filling screw.
• Left hand through the ring of the safety pin. Face the target. Turn right. Balance.
• Pull the pin downward and backward. Ensure the pin is fully drawn.
• Keep the pin. Return it to the Havildar Mathew for accounting.
• Eyes on the target. Left shoulder pointing. Right knee slightly bent.
• Swing back, bring the arm upright and over. Deliver.
• Observe where it falls. Then take cover.

The Transformation

When the moment came for live throwing, the shadow of fear still lingered on their faces. I asked for volunteers who would throw the first live one. Two hands came up quick fast and then a third very hesitantly. Not bad, I told myself. But I knew instinctively I must do it first. And then the three volunteers. So it was.  They threw. They ducked. I pulled them up, made them watch the arc of the grenade, made them see where it fell. Then we ducked together, and the ground shook.

After the first round, something had changed. The visible anxiety had gone. The second round was steadier. The jerky movements changed to a flowing motion. By the third, their faces no longer carried fear—replaced by confidence. They had faced the monster and found it was only metal and mechanics, something that could be mastered by practice and nerve.

What I Learned

That day at Pokhran, I learned that leadership is not about issuing orders. It is about standing beside your men, holding the same weapon, facing the same risk. It is about answering foolish questions without contempt, and dangerous ones without evasion. It is about throwing the grenade first. I also knew that I had earned the unquestioning trust of these twenty boys and many more by word of mouth. I felt immensely happy and allowed myself a small pat. Well done Reji.

Decades later, I remember the weight of that cast-iron body in my palm, the four-second burn, the thud of detonation. But more than that, I remember the faces of twenty young soldiers who learned, in one afternoon, that fear is real but not insurmountable—and that confidence is earned, one throw at a time.

(Images – AI generated)

Background: The UGC’s Controversial Regulation

On January 13, 2026, the University Grants Commission (UGC) notified the Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations, 2026. The new rules explicitly defined caste-based discrimination as discrimination against members of the Scheduled Castes (SCs), Scheduled Tribes (STs), and Other Backward Classes (OBCs). However, in a significant turn of events, the Supreme Court of India has stayed the implementation of these regulations pending further legal review.

The regulations caused immediate uproar, with protests from several upper-caste groups across India—with the notable exception of Kerala that there was not even a whimper about it in the print/ visual/ social media about it. Critics argued that the rules were themselves discriminatory, claiming they created a one-sided legal environment. Key points of contention include:

• Severe Penalties: If a student is found guilty of caste-based discrimination (including mocking someone based on caste), they face suspension or even criminal proceedings.
• Composition of Committees: The mandate to establish anti-discrimination committees with representation from SC, ST, and OBC members in every university.
• Alleged Lack of Safeguards: Protesters claim the norms lack penalties for filing false complaints, potentially enabling misuse. They also argue that accused students from the general category can be barred from classes, exams, or hostels immediately upon the filing of a complaint, prior to any investigation or disciplinary committee decision. Furthermore, they contend there is no clear recourse for general category students who face harassment.

Comparison with the 2012 Regulations

The UGC’s previous framework, the Promotion of Equity in Higher Educational Institutions Regulations, 2012, took a broader approach. It mandated protections against discrimination based on caste, religion, gender, disability, language, ethnicity, and place of birth. Institutions were required to:

• Appoint an Anti-Discrimination Officer.
• Establish an Equal Opportunity Cell.
• Prevent discrimination in admissions, evaluations, hostels, and scholarships.
• Resolve complaints within 60 days.

In practice, however, enforcement often centered on SC/ST students as primary beneficiaries, while OBCs were not explicitly named, creating an implementation gap.

The Legal Landscape: The SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989

The debate exists within the wider context of the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989. This Act criminalises intentionally insulting or intimidating SC/ST members in public view by using their caste name.

The Legal Weight of the Stay

In a judicial context, the Supreme Court’s interim stay on the UGC Equity Regulations, 2026, functions as a procedural pause rather than a final rejection. By placing the rules in abeyance on January 29, 2026, the Court signaled that the constitutional questions—primarily regarding the principles of due process and the potential for societal division—are significant enough to require thorough scrutiny before implementation.

The reasonableness of this stay rests on a tension between two legal philosophies:

• Individual Civil Liberties: Protecting all students from potentially vague or overbroad rules. Critics and the Supreme Court have flagged Regulation 3(c) for its narrow definition of caste-based discrimination, arguing it excludes the general category and lacks safeguards against misuse or false complaints.
• Social Protection: Shielding historically marginalized groups from systemic bias. Proponents argue that the stay leaves vulnerable students—including those from SC, ST, and OBC communities—trapped in hostile environments without the rigorous, time-bound protections the 2026 rules were designed to provide.

A critical legal hurdle is whether the University Grants Commission (UGC), as a statutory body, has the authority to mandate rules that carry quasi-criminal consequences, such as institutional debarment or strict disciplinary penalties. Typically, such significant legal liabilities require Parliamentary debate rather than simple executive notification. Until these constitutional boundaries are defined, the Court has revived the UGC Regulations, 2012 to ensure that campuses do not operate in a legal vacuum.

Kerala: An Exceptional Case Study

Kerala stands alone as the state where such equity principles have seen more consistent application. This is attributed not merely to legislation but to deeper social changes. The breaking down of caste barriers is widely credited to historical investments in education (often pioneered by Christian missionary schools) and the socio-political movements led by communist parties. Notably, the world’s first democratically elected communist government came to power in Kerala in 1957.

The state’s proactive stance is evident in moves like the June 2024 decision to stop using the term Colony for SC/ST residential settlements, recognizing its use as a casteist slur.

A Personal Anecdote: Caste in the Indian Army

My personal encounter with overt caste identity occurred only after joining the Indian Army. Growing up in Kerala and training at the NDA and IMA, references to caste or creed were conspicuously absent.

I was commissioned into the 75 Medium Regiment, which had a unique class composition: one Battery of North Indian Brahmins, one of Jats, and one of South Indian soldiers. Our Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Colonel AN Suryanarayanan (now Veteran Brigadier), wisely posted me to the Brahmin Battery.

There, I witnessed Brahmin soldiers referring to lower-caste tradesmen-soldiers by their caste names. The issue came to a head in 1991 when, as the Battery Commander, I allotted a family quarter to Sepoy Shyam Sunder, our barber. Brahmin soldiers in the residential complex, through their Senior Subedar, requested an interview. Their grievance was unequivocal: “How can a lower-caste soldier’s family live with Brahmins?“

I called a meeting with the aggrieved soldiers. “What makes you all Brahmins today?” I asked. “Aren’t we soldiers first? Is it just your surname—Sharma, Mishra, Dwivedi, Chaturvedi- that makes you a Brahmin today? Then I hereby baptise Shyam Sunder as a Brahmin. Henceforth, he will be Shyam Sunder Sharma.” The matter was settled forever.

There is no doubt that the need for the 2026 legislation is urgent and mandatory. Evolving societies must continually make efforts to make amends for the pitfalls of history. Hopefully, this stay is short-lived on concerns of due process alone.  The Supreme Court’s stay on the UGC’s 2026 regulations highlights the ongoing, deeply contentious debate around caste, equity, and justice in India.

Conclusion

While the intent to protect historically marginalised communities is clear, the execution raises valid concerns about due process and potential misuse. Kerala’s example suggests that meaningful progress requires not just laws but foundational social and educational reform. Ultimately, as the military anecdote illustrates, transcending deep-seated prejudice demands conscious leadership that insists on a common, superior identity—whether as soldiers or as students first.