The Death Railway in Kanchanaburi, Thailand
All wars eventually impart to posterity some dark scenarios that return to haunt us. In wars, we consistently demonstrate our capacity to commit the most repulsive of behaviours, unleashing heinous acts and atrocities upon our fellow humans and other living beings.
One of the worst nightmares in recent history is the Japanese Occupation during World War II, which saw the brutalisation and extermination of ordinary citizens. Japanese troops murdered thousands of forced labourers during the construction of what was known as the Thai-Burma Railway, or the Death Railway.
The notorious railway line that spanned 415km was constructed between 1940 and 1943. Tunnels ran through mountainous terrain and dense jungles, and bridges spanned rivers — all to facilitate the transporting of army goods for the Japanese army. The railway connected Ban Pong in Thailand with Thanbyuzat in Burma (now Myanmar), employing raw human labour and primitive equipment such as pickets, cangkul, carts and dynamite. Starving workers were provided with only the most meagre of rations, and lived and worked under terrible conditions with no medical provision. They often fell ill due to malaria, beriberi and a host of other tropical diseases. The infirm were simply and summarily executed, their bodies dumped or left to rot.
The construction of the railway took just over 16 months but costed the lives of more than 100,000 victims, comprising both Allied prisoners of war (POWs) as well as civilians. This dark chapter, which occurred more than three quarters of a century ago, is now largely forgotten and relegated to just another footnote of our wartime history.
Decades later, it remains a fascinating but distant fact. For the remaining immediate family members of the victims in Malaysia, however, this shadowy phase of history still evokes painful memories. So far, no memorial has been erected in Malaysia to remind us of the enormous suffering and misery of these victims.
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It was just recently that I received a rather hasty message from Chandrasekaran Ponnusamy, president of the Death Railway Interest Group, requesting my presence at the old KTM Station in Kuala Lumpur to flag off an entourage of some 30 “pilgrims” to Thailand on May 31. Although I initially accepted the invitation (with a certain amount of trepidation), I very clearly thought that it was not quite my place to be there.
I decided to go, however, owing to my personal involvement in several Malaysia-India heritage programmes. I also felt the occasion was of particular interest because of its “enigmatic” connection with the mobilisation of the Indian National Army formed by Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose. It was Netaji, of course, who pioneered the Indian movement for independence and inspired similar sentiment in other colonised Asian countries, although it must be noted that being against the British, he had initially sided with the Japanese. India’s nationalist movement played a strong role then in representing Indians in Malaya and Burma. Many of the victims of the Death Railway were in fact Tamils taken from the rubber plantations in Malaya.
It was very early in the morning when I arrived at the magnificent heritage building that had been the KTM Railway Station. It was vacant and sombre, not unlike, as I imagined, the time when the labourers were herded into goods wagons some 80 years ago.
Upon entering the gate, I spotted a small assembly of Indians that was likely to be the group I was looking for. My focus was soon directed at the frail-looking 97-year-old Arumugam Kandasamy, the last surviving victim who returned home at the end of the war in 1945. I spoke briefly to his son Suthagar and his daughter, who was accompanying him on the journey to Thailand.
Many images and questions played in my mind. How would this fragile old man make the arduous train journey north? What was going through his mind and would he relive the torment he went through eight decades ago? Were there no surviving Malay and Chinese victims?
Photos were taken and interviews were conducted. The train arrived and we waved the “pilgrims” goodbye. The train would take the Malaysian entourage to Kanchanaburi, Thailand, where they would take part in the inauguration ceremony for a monument built in memory of the Asian victims of the Death Railway on June 3.
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I later invited Suthagar, his wife and son Laksshan to visit me, as I needed to learn more about Arumugam’s experience. Arumugam, who lives in Kajang with Suthagar and his wife, looked after Laksshan when his parents were teaching. The grandson, now a confident 17-year-old, is a student at Kolej Genius @ Pintar Negara.
Laksshan explained that when Arumugam was taken away, together with 50 others from the estate of Sua Gerising, Port Dickson, he was only 15. When he returned four years later, Arumugam married a lady from India.
“My grandfather knew a smattering of Japanese,” said Laksshan. “He survived the Death Railway partly because they found him useful as a translator.”
The smart young man appeared to have come to terms with his grandfather’s past, justifying the behaviour of the Japanese Army, as “they were conditioned to act the way they did”.
Listening to Arumugam’s experiences left me with a slightly bitter aftertaste. It was just like the Malay proverb: “Kalau berat mata memandang, berat lagi bahu memikul!” As difficult as it is to witness or stomach an arduous experience, it is even more painful for those who bear the scar of the suffering. The experience may be of historic importance for us, but it is pure pain for the victims and their families.
It is thus crucial that we constantly remind ourselves of similar incidents, from the genocides of Auschwitz to the Gulag Archipelago of Stalin’s Russia, the Killing Fields of Cambodia, the wars of the Middle East, Afghanistan and Sri Lanka and, sadly, countless more. And also the remnants of mass burials as the disgraceful result of human trafficking activities that sadly go on till this day. Lest we forget? The weight of those words have never felt heavier.
Datuk Ramli Ibrahim is the founder and creative director of Sutra Foundation.
This article first appeared on June 12, 2023 in The Edge Malaysia.
