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High in the eastern Karakoram, where the air is thin and time feels frozen, lies the Siachen Glacier—the world’s highest battlefield. For nearly four decades, Indian soldiers have stood guard here at altitudes exceeding 20,000 feet, facing not just an enemy across the ridgeline but the unrelenting cold, treacherous terrain, and oxygen-starved air.
Temperatures often plunge below –50°C, and avalanches claim more lives than bullets. Yet amid this brutal landscape stands a small shrine—a place of warmth, faith, and mystery. It belongs to OP Baba, a soldier who, legend says, continues to guard the glacier even after death.
Also read: Frozen Victory: 40 Years of Operation Meghdoot in Siachen
According to army folklore, Om Prakash, or ‘OP Baba’, was an Indian Army soldier posted in the Siachen sector sometime in the late 1980s. Accounts differ on his origin—some say he was a supply convoy member, others recall him as part of a frontline patrol.
During one such patrol, OP Baba reportedly went missing in a snowstorm after heroically warning his comrades of an incoming Pakistani assault. His body was never found. Soon after, soldiers began reporting unusual dreams and visions in which he warned them of dangers ahead—crevasses, blizzards, or impending enemy attacks.
Over time, these tales transcended rumour. OP Baba became a guardian spirit, a protector of every soldier serving on Siachen. The army soon recognised his symbolic importance and constructed a small temple dedicated to him—known today as the OP Baba Shrine or Sarv-Dharma Sthal (place of all faiths).
The OP Baba shrine stands near the Siachen Base Camp, close to the glacier’s snout. Though modest in appearance—a small concrete structure adorned with tricolour flags and prayer scarves—its significance runs deep. Soldiers of every faith visit it before moving up the glacier, seeking blessings from Baba for safety and strength.
Inside are photographs of soldiers who have served and lost their lives on Siachen, offerings of dry fruits, and letters from troops. Each new contingent performs a simple ritual: they ‘report’ to OP Baba upon arrival and ‘seek permission’ from him before leaving the post. His presence, they say, ensures that morale and discipline remain high in a place where human endurance is tested to its limit.
It is said that soldiers on night duty sometimes sense an unseen companion patrolling with them—a flicker of a shadow, a footstep in snow, or a sudden intuition to change route moments before an avalanche strikes. Whether coincidence or divine intervention, such stories reinforce belief in OP Baba’s guardianship.
For soldiers who rotate between the glacier and the plains, visiting the shrine is not optional but instinctive. It offers reassurance that they are not alone in that desolate expanse of ice. Each year, when battalions are relieved, they leave behind an entry in the shrine’s logbook, thanking OP Baba for his protection and entrusting the next team to his care.
This quiet ritual has endured for over three decades, evolving into one of the army’s most moving traditions—one that binds generations of Siachen veterans in shared faith and remembrance.
#IndianArmy soldiers deployed to #Siachen firmly believe that OP Baba protects them not only from natural depredations but also from the enemy by forewarning them.
— EurAsian Times (@THEEURASIATIMES) April 14, 2024
The belief in the soldier saint is so strong that no soldiers leave for the forward post after training at the… pic.twitter.com/7rS9yYlwIU
To outsiders, such stories may seem like superstition. But within the Armed Forces, faith—in comrades, in command, and in unseen protectors—serves as a psychological lifeline. The Siachen Glacier is a place where isolation, silence, and the constant threat of death can erode the mind.
Psychologists studying high-altitude deployments note that soldiers often develop spiritual practices to cope with stress and loneliness. Belief in OP Baba provides exactly that: a symbol of continuity and comfort, a reminder that sacrifice has meaning and that those who fell still watch over the living.
In this way, the legend of OP Baba does more than sustain morale—it keeps the fragile human spirit alive where machines often fail.
Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of OP Baba’s shrine is its inclusivity. Unlike most temples, it bears no single religious symbol. Soldiers from every faith—Hindu, Sikh, Muslim, Christian, or Buddhist—pray side by side here.
On festival days, they decorate the shrine with flowers and light lamps. Sometimes, a havan (fire offering) is followed by a short prayer from a different faith tradition—a reflection of the Indian Army’s ethos of ‘Sarva Dharma Sambhava’, respect for all religions.
In the middle of the world’s highest battlefield, faith becomes the ultimate equaliser, uniting men not through doctrine, but through the shared vulnerability of serving in one of the planet’s harshest terrains.
When soldiers return from Siachen, they often bring with them stories of OP Baba to the plains. For them, he is not a ghost but a comrade who continues his duty beyond the limits of human endurance.
In Leh and Nubra, visitors sometimes see trucks or tents marked ‘OP Baba Protects Us’. During Siachen Day commemorations, tributes are offered not just to the men in uniform, but also to the unseen sentry whose legend continues to inspire courage and cohesion.
The story of OP Baba blurs the line between life and legend. It is not merely a tale of the supernatural but a reflection of the soldier’s spirit—that unbroken will to stand guard even when the body gives way.
As the winds howl across the glacier and the stars burn sharp in the night sky, one can imagine that invisible presence—a guardian who whispers courage into weary hearts and watches over every bunker and post.
OP Baba’s legend reminds us that faith is not just a comfort; on Siachen, it is a necessity for survival. And as long as the tricolour flutters against the icy winds of the world’s highest battlefield, the soldiers who serve there will believe—with quiet certainty—that OP Baba still stands watch.
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