The history and legacy of the Gurkhas is not lost upon Man Bahadur Sen, especially when he visits the Kranji War Memorial. There, Sen would walk among the tombs of the fallen Gurkhas in the Gurkha Garden of Remembrance, and pay his respects. The memorial serves as a reminder of the thousands of soldiers who have lost their lives during World War II. The British East India Company hired the Gurkhas after coming away impressed with their bravery and fighting abilities in the 1815 Anglo-Nepal war. Till today, the Gurkhas fight alongside the British in major world conflicts. Retired police constable Man Bahadur Sen holds up a framed photograph of himself in uniform, taken in the early 1960s. The 67-year old served from 1962 till 1983.
Arriving in Singapore for the first time, surrounded by the sea, was surreal for retired staff sergeant Chandra Bahadur Thapa. Coming from landlocked Nepal — famed for the Himalayan range — Thapa was surprised to see so much water in Singapore. “It was like going into an unknown world,” he said. It didn’t take long before he looked forward to visits to Pasir Ris beach for annual picnics with other Gurkha families. There, he would watch his son, born and raised in Singapore, take a leisurely swim in the waters. Retired staff sergeant Chandra Bahadur Thapa holds a framed photograph of himself on office duty in 1976, three years before retirement. The 78-year old served from 1952 till 1979.
“Awak sudah makan?” Nar Bahadur Gurung asked in Malay if I had eaten. Replying in the same language, I said yes, and was surprised to hear him speak in Malay. He smiled and paused to say: “Saya masih boleh cakap Melayu sikit-sikit.” Even after leaving Singapore for 40 years, Gurung can still speak a bit of the language — having learnt Malay when he was serving the Singapore Gurkha Contingent. Bazaar Malay was the common language spoken by all races from the 1950s till the 1980s, until English became increasingly common. English, for Gurung however, was much tougher. Slowly, and with a stutter, he mustered the words: “I never forget Singapore.” Retired corporal Nar Bahadur Gurung holds up a framed photograph of himself when he first arrived in Singapore in 1953. The 73-year old served from 1953 till 1973.
Retired police constable Ba Bahadur Pun arrived at a time when Singapore rapidly transformed from Third world to First. “It was a time of peace,” he said, comparing it to the turbulent ‘50s and ‘60s. In the early mornings, he would take leisurely runs round MacRitchie Reservoir. On off days, he would treat his family to seafood like Chili Crab at Potong Pasir. “They don’t have seafood here like they do in Singapore,” he said. Since retirement, he has only been back once in 2006, for 15 days. And for most of his trip back, he took nostalgic walks around the Aljunied area — a place he grew up with in his adult life. Retired police constable Ba Bahadur Pun holds a framed photograph of himself in police uniform just before retirement. The 52-year old served from 1978 till 2004.
The last time Resham Bahadur Pun left Singapore, it was a bustling and developing city-state. That was in 1977 — before he retired and worked for the Brunei royal family in Bandar Seri Begawan. 34 years later, the retired corporal returned with his daughter to live in Singapore for three months, and found it a completely changed city. “Last time, they only had two lane roads,” he said. “Now, cars and trains all can go underground.” His son-in-law, who is now serving the Gurkha Contingent, rented a car during his off days and they roamed the island together. His highlight of the trip: taking a photograph of the newly built Marina Bay Sands by the Esplanade with his wife. Retired corporal Resham Bahadur Pun holds up an old photograph of himself in uniform taken at 38 Oxley Road in 1965. The 68-year old served from 1960 till 1977.
When the Mass Rapid System (MRT) first opened its doors to the public in 1988, it marked a new era of commuting in Singapore. It was a different experience altogether as well for the Gurkhas like Harka Bahadur Rai, having only taken buses from point to point. Though most times, the Gurkhas would joke about taking their favorite ‘bus number 11’ — simply getting around with just their own two feet. Rai remembers enjoying the long, lazy rides on the trains so much so that once he accidentally lost his ticket. “Without my ticket, I could not exit the station,” he said with a sheepish laugh. Also, he was short of cash to buy another ticket. Only after calling his friend for help did he manage to exit the station. “I was a bit more careful after that!” Retired police constable Harka Bahadur Rai holds up a photograph of himself taken in 1998 He is in uniform receiving the long service award from the police commissioner. The 55-year old served from 1976 till 2001.
A large aerial photograph of the Singapore River and the Central Business District dominates the wall of retired Singapore Gurkha, Bhabhindra Bahadur Malla.
Visitors to the 67-year old’s cosy home in the touristy state of Pokhara in Nepal cannot miss this photograph with a small emblem of the Singapore Police Force located at the bottom right hand corner.
Tugboats — now a dime dozen and used to ferry tourists — still line the Singapore River. The Fullerton Hotel was then known as the GPO, or General Post Office. The Merlion Park, which houses the mythical creature with the head of a lion and the body of a fish, does not exist.
And that was the retired staff sergeant’s last impression of Singapore, before he retired in 1984.
Three decades on, the Gurkhas and their attachment to the Lion city is evident not just from photographs of the city, but also in the form of murals and statues of the iconic Merlion in their homes. Their portraits in uniform, and retirement plaques with the emblem of the Singapore Police Force are proudly displayed as well.
Like with other retired Gurkhas and their families, Malla was keen and quick with questions about his adopted homeland — updates about political leaders, the recent general elections as well as its rapid development — where he spent his best years. Then, he was housed in a camp off Joo Seng Street, cut off from Singapore and Singaporeans, but that hasn’t stopped him and other Gurkhas from feeling like they are a part of the Lion city.
Quietly, these men from Nepal have protected some of Singapore’s most important places, installations and ministerial residences.
“It is only natural, after living for so long, to feel part of a country that is not ours to begin with.”
— Prem Bahadur Limbu
The Gurkha Contingent of the Singapore Police Force was established in April 1949 as authorities deemed it necessary for a police element unaffected by racial prejudices within Malaya to complement the local force.
Quietly, these men from Nepal have protected some of Singapore’s most important places, installations and ministerial residences — the most famous being 38 Oxley Road, the residence of former prime minister Lee Kuan Yew.
Their legacy predates Singapore’s independence in 1965, and a reflection of Singapore’s colonial past. Along Portsdown Road, Nepal Park used to house British officials and senior Gurkha officers in the 1930s.
The Gurkhas came into prominence after World War II, playing a key role in neutralising riots in the 1950s and 1960s, especially those that involved the Chinese and Malays.
They are valued as an nonpartisan force in light of multi-ethnic tensions, according to Institute of South Asian Studies research associate Hema Kiruppalini, who has researched extensively on the Singapore Gurkhas and the Nepalese community in Singapore.
“As an impartial force, their role has been defined vis-a-vis the major races in Singapore,” she says. As a result, this community will continually remain at the fringes of Singapore’s history, she adds.
This is evident in how the community lives in Mount Vernon Camp, with defined boundaries that physically mark out the Gurkha community from the rest of Singapore society. “And it is not only in terms of physical residence, but also emotionally and psychologically for over 20 years of service,” adds Kiruppalini.
Today, the camp is a self-contained environment with a clinic, mini-mart, as well as a traditionally designed Nepali Hindu temple. They live in HDB-styled flats such as Pokhara Garden and Everest Heights, named after familiar places back home.
At present, it is estimated that there are about two thousand Gurkhas in the Singapore Police Force. Together with their wives and children, close to five thousand of them are living in Mount Vernon Camp.
Based on Kiruppalani’s research, there are also special rules and regulations conditioning the men from the Gurkha Contingent. Mainly, these Gurkhas, including their wives and children, are immediately repatriated upon completion of their over 20-year service. The men are strictly forbidden to marry Singaporean women, and wives of Gurkhas are disallowed to work in Singapore during their husband’s tenure.
When the topic of citizenship and permanent residency arose, most of the Gurkhas would answer in hushed tones, reflecting their discipline as well as the sensitivity of the topic.
Though most do not seek this status as they come as foreign young men, they remain puzzled at the rate which other immigrants are welcomed to the Lion city with open arms — while their community remains inherently foreign despite their long duration of stay.
In their final year of living in Singapore, some Gurkhas and their families will prepare a list of things to do and people to say goodbye to. For the children, they often find it difficult to explain — or understand — to their Singaporean peers why they have to leave for good.
Some of the Gurkhas often cite a 2003 letter to The Straits Times’ forum, “Let Gurkhas become PRs”, by Ms Jessica Foo Shu Wei. She related her experience in Canada when she met retired Singapore Gurkhas and their families who migrated there “since it was not possible for them to be considered for permanent residency in Singapore”.
In her letter, she also adds that the Gurkhas who live in Singapore are law-abiding, friendly, and that the government should give them a chance to become permanent residents.
The Gurkhas like retired staff sergeant Prem Bahadur Limbu appreciate Singaporeans like her who have expressed support for their community to receive permanent residency and be included as part of this city.
Having grown up in Singapore as the son of a Gurkha in Mount Vernon Camp, and then serving as one from 1964 till 1991, he only knows too well how it feels after spending two-thirds of his life in this adopted homeland.
“It is only natural, after living for so long, to feel part of a country that is not ours to begin with.”
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