The Battle of Kohima, fought from April 4 to June 22, 1944, on the hills surrounding Kohima in northeastern India, was one of the most fierce and decisive engagements of the Second World War. It figures among the top ten battles in the history of the British Army. Japanese Lieutenant General Kotoku Sato’s 31st Division, approximately 15,000-strong, advanced through treacherous jungle terrain, encircled Kohima and established roadblocks on the road from Dimapur to Kohima and onward to Imphal. The British-Indian garrison, drawn mainly from the Queen’s Own Royal West Kent Regiment, the Assam Regiment and assorted units, numbering just around 1,500, inclusive of all ranks, was ordered to hold Kohima, overlooking this all-important lifeline.
From April 4, Japanese forces encircled the garrison, bombarding trenches and executing night assaults. The defenders were gradually pushed back toward Garrison Hill, where intense trench-to-trench confrontations erupted. The most ferocious hand-to-hand fighting took place around the Deputy Commissioner’s bungalow, where only a tennis court separated the opposing forces. By mid-April, the isolated defenders were near collapse. The 2nd British Division was urgently deployed by rail and air, and reached Kohima on April 18. It cleared the Japanese roadblock near Zubza on the Dimapur-Kohima road and succeeded in linking up with the besieged garrison. After stabilizing the situation, it continued onward and reclaimed lost ground. By June 22, forces from Kohima and Imphal linked up at Milestone 109 on the Kohima-Imphal road, ending both sieges permanently.
The British suffered around 4,064 casualties. Japanese losses were even higher: 5,764 dead in battle, with thousands more succumbing to starvation, disease and wounds. Along with the Battle of Imphal, the Battle of Kohima decisively halted the Japanese advance into India. It marked the beginning of the end for the Japanese, being their first major defeat in Southeast Asia. Military historians call it the “Stalingrad of the East”, and the British Army museum in London rates Kohima-Imphal as “Britain’s greatest battle”.
The Kohima War Cemetery, built on Garrison Hill, is a serene yet powerfully moving memorial. The rows upon rows of Commonwealth graves, the Cremation Memorial, and the famous epitaph, When you go home, tell them of us, and say, for your tomorrow, we gave our today, make for a sombre experience, reminding us of the humanity behind the sacrifice.
The victory in the Battle of Kohima demonstrated that the Japanese momentum could be halted, shifting the strategic balance in the Southeast. It highlighted the effectiveness of air supply, jungle warfare tactics, cohesive multi-ethnic Allied forces and local tribal support. It remains not only a landmark in military history but a poignant story of endurance, courage and the forging of regional identity in Nagaland – a battle that deserves remembrance.
Out of this backdrop emerges the story of Badluram, a rifleman in the 1st Battalion of the Assam Regiment – one of the many who took part in this most famous of battles as part of the garrison deployed at Kohima. He was killed in the early stages of the clash, struck by gunfire. After his death, Badluram’s CQM, either by accident or design, never removed his name from the ration strength. As long as the supply lines remained open, rations authorised for Badluram continued to arrive, accumulating into a small surplus. When the Japanese forces besieged the unit at Kohima and supply lines were cut, it was that extra ration stock that saved countless lives.
In 1946, Major MT Proktor, moved by the saga of how the absurdity of drawing rations for a dead man long after he was gone eventually served to save lives, composed a marching song, “Badluram ka Badan”. Set to the tune of “John Brown’s Body / Battle Hymn of the Republic”, its lyrics go:
Badluram ka badan zameen ke neeche hai
toh humein uska ration milta hai
Shabash, hallelujah…(Badluram’s body lies beneath the ground, and so we get his rations… Bravo! Hallelujah!)
Parade) at their Regimental Centre in Happy Valley, Shillong, during passing‑out ceremonies. The song is regularly performed on other occasions too, complete with marching, stomping, clapping and spirited footwork. It has even transcended borders. During Exercise Yudh Abhyas 2019 in the US, Indian and US Army troops sang it together, with the US soldiers spiritedly joining in the chorus: “…we draw his ration… Well done, Hallelujah.”
Nothing embodies esprit de corps more than marching to celebratory lyrics about free food from beyond the grave! The tune and the story have remained staples at every Assam Regiment parade since, binding generations through shared history and cheeky pride. An instance of simple oversight (was it, actually?) became a life‑saver in a perilous wartime scenario. Though emerging from danger and desperation, the story is celebrated with humour – making it all the more enduring and endearing. Fittingly, the song has journeyed from regimental legend to meme-sticker, TikTok audio track and viral Instagram reels shot on freezing mountainscapes in Sikkim. When someone asks why soldiers dance to a seemingly morbid song about a dead person’s rations, the answer is simply that a small bookkeeping error turned tragedy into triumph.
Badluram never sought to be a legend. He didn’t set out to be a hero; he just fought, died and got “forgotten” by the QM in the proverbial fog of war. However, that simple omission, whether by accident or otherwise, made him immortal. His spirit saved lives, his name cheers recruits, and his tune unites soldiers even across oceans.
So the next time you watch a military parade, listen carefully and if you hear “Badluram ka badan zameen ke neeche hai…”, you will know to pause with respect and understanding. You are momentarily becoming part of trooping in the footsteps of a legend whose legacy is not about any heroic deed in combat, but about something more mundane which nevertheless played a role in saving soldiers and winning one of history’s greatest battles. And do join in the chorus… Hallelujah!
Excerpted with permission from The Curious and the Classified: Unearthing Military Myths and Mysteries, Manoj Naravane, Rupa Publications.
You’ve read Scroll.
Now help sustain it
Scroll is funded by readers, not corporate owners. If you believe our work matters, support our newsroom. Become a member today!
We’re not driven by clicks or corporate interests – just honest, independent reporting. Keep us going. Support Scroll today!