After the end of 1971 war, when the retirement date of Sam Manekshaw came near, he noticed that his driver, Shyam Singh was unusually tense and worried. The concern on his face was impossible to miss, and the General immediately sensed it.
“What’s the matter, Shyam Singh? These days you look as if the buffalo at your house has stopped giving milk.”
“No, sir, it’s not that,” he replied quietly, saying nothing more.
As the days passed and retirement drew closer, one day Shyam Singh finally spoke: “Sir, I have a request that only you can fulfil.”
“Yes, tell me, Shyam Singh.”
“Sir, I want to retire from service early. Please recommend my discharge.”
“But what is the reason? Is there some land dispute or family problem? Complete your service properly. I’ll even help you become a Naib Subedar, but don’t leave the army,” the General advised him.
“No, sir, it’s something else. But I cannot tell you until I leave the service.”
Understanding his honesty and self-respect, the General completed the necessary formalities. When the discharge orders arrived, he asked once more:
“So, are you happy now? At least tell me why you wanted to retire early.”
The driver stood at attention and replied:
“Sir, after driving your car, I cannot drive for anyone else. It was the greatest honour of my life. I want to go home carrying that honour with me.”
The Field Marshal laughed and said, “You are a great fool! You Haryanvi people are so stubborn and determined.”
But now that the retirement papers had already been processed, nothing could be changed. Still, one day the General asked him:
“What will you do after retirement?”
“I’ll manage somehow, sir. I’ll look for a job.”
“How much farming land do you have?”
“None at all, sir. I come from a poor family.”
The General was deeply moved. Here was a poor man who had left his livelihood simply because he felt he could never again serve anyone after serving such a commander.
On the day of his farewell, Sam Manekshaw handed him an envelope.
“Shyam Singh, open this only after reaching home.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver saluted and left.
After reaching home, he became busy searching for work and completely forgot about the envelope. One day his wife said:
“I was putting away your army uniform in the trunk, and I found this envelope in your pocket.”
“Oh, I completely forgot about it. I didn’t open it because I’m not very educated. Sir must have given me some appreciation letter like senior officers usually do.”
“Still, let’s open it and ask the schoolmaster to read it. I want to know what’s written in it,” his wife insisted.
So, the couple went to the village school and requested the headmaster to read the letter aloud.
The headmaster put on his glasses, opened the envelope, and suddenly fell silent.
“What happened, Masterji? Why are you staring like that?” asked Shyam Singh.
“Do you even know what this is?”
“No, sir.”
“This is a transfer deed.”
“After the victory of 1971, the government of Haryana awarded Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw 25 acres of land as a war honour. He has transferred all of it in your name. You are now the owner of 25 acres of land.”
Thus lives the legacy of the great Sam Manekshaw — a man who reportedly gave away his war grant land near Sonipat to his driver and donated his Field Marshal pension to the Army Widows Welfare Fund.
Salute to a great soldier and an extraordinary human being.
