Sometimes, while scrolling mindlessly through reels of a beagle doing yoga and an influencer selling me inner peace, I hit something that hit me back. Hard.
It was a clip of Lt Col Manoj Kumar Sinha speaking. The kind of man who speaks with the weight of truth, not the echo of trending hashtags. He was talking about a man most of us have forgotten. The late Constable Tukaram Omble, and suddenly I found myself wide awake.
Of course, we all remember Ajmal Kasab. The terrorist from Pakistan who was caught alive during the 26/11 Mumbai attacks. We know his name, his face, and his bullet count. But, I fear a majority will fail to recall the man who caught him barehanded, with nothing more than a lathi and the courage of ten men?
That’s the problem, isn’t it?
We remember villains better than heroes.
Let’s rewind. And the scroll made me scroll through my thoughts.
That night, Tukaram Omble, a beat constable, rushed to intercept a bullet-riddled car. He thought he was approaching two dead bodies. Instead, he met Kasab, who was armed, alive, and very willing to kill again. Kasab pointed the gun at Omble’s chest and started pumping bullets.
And yet, Omble didn’t let go.
He held on to the red-hot barrel, burning his hands, taking every bullet in his body. He refused to let go. He died, yes, but he ensured the nation lived to tell the story and had a terrorist involved in that attack caught alive. Something that rarely happens in suicidal attacks with well-trained terrorists
Now here’s the irony that Lt Col Sinha pointed out and which should burn us more than the barrel that burned Omble’s palms.
Everyone remembers Kasab. Very few remember Omble.
Why isn’t there a statue of him in action and glory, and not just a bust at the very spot where he fell?
Why isn’t his name etched in gold in every school textbook that glorifies the “Mughals and their contributions”?
Why isn’t there an annual national bravery award named after him, one that celebrates extraordinary courage, unarmed valour, and unflinching duty? Yes, he was awarded the Ashok Chakra, but that is not the answer I am looking for. Yes, he was awarded the CNN Indian of the Year award under the category of ‘Extraordinary Service to the Nation. Yes, the government allotted a CNG petrol pump. I hope they have also invested in teaching her how to run it and kept track of its status, so others can be equally courageous, knowing that the nation will take care of their family.
Yes, there is a memorial to him in his village.
But all this touches a few people- I want his name etched for what it is in the masses. So today I make this attempt.
I am not sure if it has already happened or not, but a KBC question.“ Who captured Ajmal Kasab alive during the 26/11 Mumbai attacks?” would have helped re-etch the name and reference in the national psyche.
A. Ashok Kamte
B. Hemant Karkare
C. Tukaram Omble
D. Vijay Salaskar
Imagine crores of people sitting on their couches, biting their nails, waiting for the contestant to press C: Tukaram Omble.
Wouldn’t that be poetic justice in 30 seconds of prime-time recognition?
But no. We prefer our heroes to be fictional and our bravery to come with a background score.
Yes, We have films that glorify revenge, but rarely one that celebrates restraint.
We make memes of politicians but forget the men who made it possible for those politicians to campaign in peace.
We live in a country where we still read more about Babar than about Baji Rao, whereHaldi Ghati is reduced to poetry andthe Battle of Plassey gets a whole Chapter, whileSambhaji’s valour took centuries to get a footnote.Our syllabus reads like a eulogy to the victors who looted us, not a celebration of those who defended us.
And then we wonder why our national pride feels like an underfunded government museum — dusty, ignored, and half-lit.
When the winners write history, we should at least have the courage to rewrite it once we are free. But no. We are too busy arguing over who deserves credit for what and fail to recognise or give credit to the ones who never asked for it.
We build flyovers faster than memorials and statues only when they can win votes.
Let’s be honest: had Tukaram Omble been a cricketer who took a catch with one hand, we’d have biopics, brand endorsements, and billboards.
But because he took a gun with both hands, and died doing so, we gave him a few lines on 26/11 recalls and go back to sleep.
This is not about Kasab vs Omble.
This is about us vs our collective amnesia.
Our failure to celebrate true courage. Our failure to tell our children what real heroism looks like. Our inability to remember the right people for the right reasons.
And maybe that’s the saddest part: Omble didn’t just die fighting a terrorist; he died trusting that the nation he protected would remember him.
So, the next time you’re scrolling through reels, stop for a moment.
Search for Tukaram Omble. Watch his story. Share it. Speak his name.
And we need to add more and better-presented information to the Wikipedia page about him.
Because heroes don’t die when bullets pierce them, they die when memory forgets them.
On the next 26/11, before we light candles and post with the hashtag #NeverForget captions, we should remember the man who made that possible. And remember the thought he reignited.
And if there’s ever a KBC question about him, may we all know the answer.
Final answer: Tukaram Omble.
The constable who caught a terrorist with a lathi and left a nation holding a mirror.
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Mumabi to be a fine city- must first be finned enough.
