A Pilgrimage to Sam Bahadur’s Home: Remembering Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw

Memories are like creating a masterpiece. Sometimes they’re messy and chaotic, but the end result is breathtaking.

Something like this happened when my wife and I travelled to Coonoor, trying to locate the house where Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw spent his post-retirement years.

The Search for STAVKA

The house was not easy to find. Taxi drivers and locals were mostly unaware. One even claimed it was in the military cantonment of Wellington, off-limits to civilians.

After persistent enquiries, a cab operator recalled taking an army officer there once. He briefed our driver in Tamil, and we left Sim’s Park taxi stand—home to Coonoor’s renowned botanical garden.

We drove about 5 kilometres along the Coonoor-Kotagiri road when our driver pointed to a narrow road uphill. “That is the house,” he said.

We climbed the hill, and there it was—Sam Bahadur’s house.

The House on the Hill

It wore a deserted look. The gates were open, with no guard or sentry. No one stopped us or offered guidance. A nameplate read “STAVKA”, Russian for high military command. A signboard warned: Private property. Entry by permission only. Below it, his daughters’ names were engraved.

Sherry, who married Dinky Batliwala of Swiss Air, lives in Chennai. Maja Daruwala is a prominent advocate and human rights activist.

I was a little disappointed—it felt like standing at the gates of history, yet unable to enter. A “Beware of Dogs” sign added to the distance. Still, I was happy to have paid homage to Sam Bahadur, as troops affectionately called him.

I couldn’t help but wonder—why hasn’t the government acquired this home and declared it a national heritage site, so that defence personnel and civilians alike could honour the Field Marshal?

The Man Behind the Legend

The house sits atop a hill, with commanding views of valleys, mountains, and vibrant flora and fauna.

Manekshaw’s connection with the Nilgiris began in the 1950s when he served as Commandant of the Defence Services Staff College, Wellington. He purchased the land in 1962 and built the house after retiring in 1973. Locals fondly remember him at the market and, on occasion, even directing traffic during jams. He lived a quiet life at STAVKA with his wife, Siloo.

The Kalam Encounter

One of the most touching stories from his later years is his meeting with President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam at the Wellington Military Hospital.

Kalam asked, “Is there anything I can do for you, Sam?”

“Yes, sir,” Manekshaw replied. “I cannot get up to salute my Commander-in-Chief.”

Both men had tears in their eyes.

Sam also mentioned he hadn’t received his Field Marshal’s pension for nearly 20 years. On returning to Delhi, Kalam ensured a cheque for the arrears was delivered to Sam’s hospital bed.

Manekshaw donated the entire amount to the Army Welfare Fund. That was the greatness of Kalam—and that was the greatness of Manekshaw.

Wit, Wisdom, and War

Manekshaw was known for his razor-sharp wit. At a party, when asked about his weakness, he quipped:

“I just cannot say no. Thank God I’m a man—if I were a woman, I’d be pregnant most of the time.”

At the time of Partition, he and Pakistan’s future president Yahya Khan served together under Field Marshal Sir Claude Auchinleck. Yahya bought Manekshaw’s red James motorcycle, promising to send ₹1,000 from Pakistan—a promise he never kept.

After the 1971 war, Manekshaw joked:

“Yahya never paid me the ₹1,000 for my motorbike, but now he has paid with half his country.”

How He Became "Sam Bahadur"

During an inspection, Manekshaw asked a Gorkha soldier his name. “Harare Bahadur, sir,” he replied.

Looking him in the eye, Manekshaw asked in Nepali, “Mero naam kya ho?”(What’s my name?)

Without hesitation, the soldier replied, “Sam Bahadur, saab.”

The name stayed. So impressed was Manekshaw by the bravery of Gorkhas, he once said:

“If a soldier says he is not afraid of death, he is either lying or he is a Gorkha.”

First Among Equals

India’s first Field Marshal, he led the army through five wars. His leadership uplifted the Indian Army after the 1962 Chinese debacle. Addressing his troops, he thundered:

“Gentlemen, I have arrived. There will be no withdrawal without written orders—and these orders shall never be issued.”

He was awarded the Padma Vibhushan in 1972 and made Field Marshal in January 1973.

My Personal Encounter

In 1969, as freshly released Emergency Commissioned Officers, a group of us tried to meet the Army Chief—without an appointment. We showed up at his South Delhi residence on scooters.

To our surprise, his ADC came to the gate. Minutes later, Sam Manekshaw himself appeared, in shorts, T-shirt, and PT shoes, smiling warmly.

He shook hands and listened patiently as we spoke of rehabilitation challenges. He said:

“Look boys, I can’t promise anything now. But I know people in the private sector. Leave your biodata. Give competitive exams. Explore paramilitary forces. A soldier always moves forward—with a never-say-die spirit.”

We left uplifted. It meant the world to us that the Army Chief met us without an appointment and gave us his time.

A Final Tale of Kindness

His driver, Havaldar Shyam Singh, took immense pride in driving the Army Chief. When Sam retired, Shyam applied for early retirement. He said, “I cannot drive anyone else after driving the Chief.”

Sam knew Shyam came from a poor family. At retirement, he handed Shyam an envelope.

Years later, Shyam’s wife found it in a cupboard. Since they were illiterate, they took it to the village sarpanch.

It was a land deed—property gifted to Sam by the Haryana government for his role in the 1971 war, now passed on to Shyam Singh. That was Sam Bahadur, a soldier beyond comparison.

Farewell to a Legend

Field Marshal Manekshaw passed away on 27 June 2008 at Wellington Military Hospital, aged 94. His last words reportedly were:

“I’m okay.”

He was buried with full military honours at the Parsi cemetery in Ooty, beside his wife.

Coonoor: A Town That Remembers

Coonoor is one of the rare towns where plastic is completely banned. On entry from Coimbatore, vehicles are checked and plastic items seized.

We stayed at the Neemrana property, Wallwood Garden—a 150-year-old villa built by a Scottish Major General. We were celebrating our 54th wedding anniversary.

We took a joyride on the UNESCO heritage toy train to Ooty, where we tasted a local flaky sweet called Wurfy. The train, winding through hills and lush landscapes, made for an unforgettable journey.

Until Next Time…

A visit to STAVKA, the home of Sam Manekshaw, was not just travel—it was a pilgrimage. I hope someday it becomes a place where every Indian can go to pay their respects.

More about our Coonoor trip—some other time.