It's time to kill the ghost of Barog

Barog tunnel on the Kalka-Shimla railway counts among India’s most haunted places. A British officer’s ghost is said to dwell in it. But the legend of this officer is suspiciously short on detail


Barog in Himachal Pradesh is famous for the longest tunnel on the Kalka-Shimla railway, but of late youtubers and trekkers have been descending on it to see an abandoned tunnel and the grave of the British engineer after whom the town is supposedly named.

It’s said that Col Barog – nobody seems to know his first name – was in charge of building tunnel 33. Because it is a very long tunnel – 3,752 feet long – he started digging it from both ends, but his alignment was wrong and the two parts didn’t meet.

Barog, the story says, was censured and fined a rupee. Humiliated, he walked up to the mouth of the flawed tunnel with his dog, and shot himself. Oddly, he was buried there, not in Dagshai, or Solan, or Kasauli, or Subathu. While the story is short on detail, even Barog’s “grave” has ghosted. Nobody has seen it in the past 15 years, at least. A team of Unesco observers that tried to find it in 2007 returned disappointed.

But the story doesn’t end there. While the place was named Barog in the colonel’s memory, and he took up residence there as a ghost, an Indian diviner named Baba Bhalku “helped” the British railway engineers find the right alignment of the tunnel. Full of gratitude for his service, the viceroy is said to have honoured him. Shimla city even has a railway museum named after Bhalku.

Barog before Barog

It’s a fantastic story waiting to be made into a movie, but there is a problem – Barog was called Barog even before work on the tunnel started. This excerpt from The Bombay Gazette of August 14, 1899 is proof:

“A detailed and final reconnaissance for the Simla-Kalka railway has now been completed by Mr Harrington (the chief engineer)….The proposed alignment will necessitate the construction of three important tunnels, viz. Koti spur...Barogh...and Tara Devi.”

Construction of the Kalka-Simla line didn’t start until the summer of 1900. And Barog figures again in a report from The Engineer of May 25, 1900:

“The first sod of the mountain railway from Kalka to Simla has just been turned….The heaviest parts of the undertaking are two large tunnels which have to be made….The second is the Barog tunnel, under the Solon Hill, about halfway to Simla.”

No mention of mistake, or delay

The same report in The Engineer says, “the tunnels are being taken in hand first as they will require upwards of two years to complete…” So, if tunnelling started in May 1900, the earliest it could have finished was in May-June 1902.

A report in The Railway Engineer of December 1902 says the two “headings” of the Barog tunnel were to have met on October 24, 1902 – comfortably close to the original estimate. Yes, the project missed the date, but even in December 1902 there was no sense of alarm or panic over the “delay”.

The report explains that work on the Barog tunnel was taking long because of natural obstacles. For example, its course lay through sandstone punctuated with springs: “The miners having had to work at times under deluges of water.”

Now, if the delay had been on account of a wrong alignment, would the press have glossed over it? Especially the railway and engineering journals? Wrong alignment would have meant a loss of many months, if not years, of effort.

Bhalku or compressed air?

In the legend, Bhalku pulls the tunnel project together with his sixth sense, but news reports from that time show it was a technologically advanced operation. In its May 11, 1901 issue, Indian Engineering talks about a “powerful compressed-air plant now being started” at the Barog tunnel.

Nineteen months later, The Railway Engineer of December 1902 confirms: “The work has been carried through with the aid of heavy air-compressing machinery got out expressly from England.”

Tunneling was only half the work. The tunnel also had to be lined with masonry, a slow job. Three years after work started on the tunnel, The Bombay Gazette of June 15, 1903 said, “The masonry lining of the great Barog tunnel is completed throughout all but 500 feet of its length.”

Not once does the name of Bhalku appear in these reports. It’s unlikely the press would have denied him credit just because he wasn’t white. It’s too good a story – a native diviner deciding the alignment of a railway tunnel – to suppress for racial prejudice.

Radio silence on colonel

The deadline for the Kalka-Simla railway was October 1903, and passenger services started on November 9, 1903. There was no delay. The Barog tunnel was completed within the overall project schedule. Coming back to Col Barog, is it possible that his “mistake” didn’t upset the project at all?

Also, why is there no report about his suicide in the papers from that time? A British colonel killing himself in India would have been a big deal. It would have been reported in not only India but also the UK and Australia. Yet, you find no mention of a Col Barog anywhere. He does not figure even in the project plans. Other people are listed in charge of work at Barog, Dharampur and Solan throughout.

Hence the question: how real is the ghost of Barog?

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The ghost of Col Barog wants some answers

Legend has it that the engineer tasked with building the Barog tunnel on the Kalka-Shimla railway line shot himself after he got the alignment wrong. With frequent repetition, the story has passed into history. But where are the sources to prove it?

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There’s a town called Barog in Wales, and there’s another Barog on the road to Shimla in Himachal Pradesh. The Indian Barog is known for the longest railway tunnel on the Kalka-Shimla route, but in recent years it has become famous for a ghost – the ghost of a British officer named Col Barog.

The story is so good, you wonder why a film hasn’t been made on it. If you haven’t heard the story already, here’s a summary:

When the British started work on the Kalka-Shimla railway, the job of building the longest tunnel fell to Col Barog. Because it was a very long tunnel – more than a kilometre in length – he commenced digging it from both sides. But his alignment was off, the two arms didn’t meet.

The officer was embarrassed, and the government humiliated him some more by fining him a rupee for doing a shoddy job. What did the colonel do? He went up to the mouth of the flawed tunnel on the Shimla side, with his dog, and shot himself.

Thus far, the story has an engineering challenge, failure, humiliation and tragedy. But it gets better. It is said that Barog was buried at the mouth of his tunnel, and the place was named Barog in his memory. Redemption.

Next, an Indian diviner named Baba Bhalku/Balkoo from a village near Chail steps into the picture. He helps the British railway engineers find the right alignment through the weak rock of the hills. Without him, the tunnel could not have been built. The viceroy honours Bhalku. Shimla city now has a railway museum named after him. So, there’s national pride too.

And finally, when all the others who worked on the tunnel have passed, the good colonel decides to stay on in Barog as a ghost. He haunts the tunnel. In a good way, though. He is said to be a friendly ghost. Affable. Causes no trouble.

Tunnel fever

The Barog story has been told for many years. I found it online 20 years ago after I saw the railway tunnel (the one in use) for the first time. And I believed it. Not the bit about the ghost, but the failure and suicide didn’t seem doubtful.

Judged by the increase in YouTube videos on the subject, many others believe it too. Weekend trekkers have been making trips to see Barog’s abandoned tunnel and his grave. Oddly, everybody reports the grave has now disappeared. In 2007, a team of Unesco observers returned after failing to find Barog’s grave.

Was there a body?

In 2021, the internet makes it easy for you to search old books, newspapers, and government papers. I have devoted many hours over the past month searching for Col Barog. My quest began out of curiosity. I wanted to know more about this interesting officer’s case, but today I doubt there was a Col Barog in Barog, and that he killed himself.

The main problem with the story is that Barog was called Barog before work on the tunnel started. So, it could not have been named after an officer who shot himself on failing to complete the tunnel. Here’s an excerpt from The Bombay Gazette of August 14, 1899:

“A detailed and final reconnaissance for the Simla-Kalka railway has now been completed by Mr Harrington (the chief engineer)….The proposed alignment will necessitate the construction of three important tunnels, viz. Koti spur...Barogh...and Tara Devi.” In reports of that time Barog, Solan and Harrington are often spelt as Barogh, Solon and Harington. Shimla is uniformly ‘Simla’.

Actual construction of the Kalka-Simla line started in the summer of 1900. And Barog figures again in a report from The Engineer of May 25, 1900:

“The first sod of the mountain railway from Kalka to Simla has just been turned….The heaviest parts of the undertaking are two large tunnels which have to be made….The second is the Barog tunnel, under the Solon Hill, about halfway to Simla. The tunnels are being taken in hand first as they will require upwards of two years to complete…”

No mention of mistake

Let’s say work on the Barog tunnel started in May 1900. From the beginning, it was known that it would take more than two years to build. The earliest it could have been finished was in May-June 1902. Now, if Col Barog had dug in the wrong direction and realised his mistake only when the tunnel’s two parts didn’t meet, the project would have been delayed by many months, if not years.

Instead, The Railway Engineer of December 1902 reports the two “headings” of the Barog tunnel were to have met on October 24, 1902 – comfortably close to the original estimate. So, right up to September or October, or even December 1902, there was no sense of alarm. No panic. Nor any reports of a “mistake” leading to delay.

The same report explains that work on the Barog tunnel was taking long because of natural obstacles. For example, its course lay through sandstone punctuated with springs: “The miners having had to work at times under deluges of water.”

By then, the rate of advance (of the two halves together) had increased to 50-70 feet every week. The officers and workers were paid a weekly bonus to speed up work, and they toiled “day and night”.

“Tons of dynamite have been used,” the report adds.

Is Baba Bhalku real?

Legend has it that after Col Barog’s suicide, Baba Bhalku pulled the project together and told the railway engineers where to dig. But reports from that time show it was quite a technologically advanced operation. In its May 11, 1901 issue, Indian Engineering talks about a “powerful compressed-air plant now being started” at the Barog tunnel.

The Railway Engineer of December 1902 also says, “The work has been carried through with the aid of heavy air-compressing machinery got out expressly from England.”

And tunneling was only half the work. The tunnels also had to be lined with masonry, which cost considerable time and money. Three years after work started on the tunnel, it was nearing completion. The Bombay Gazette of June 15, 1903 says, “The masonry lining of the great Barog tunnel is completed throughout all but 500 feet of its length.” The entire tunnel is 3,752 feet long.

Not once does the name of Bhalku appear in these reports. It’s unlikely that the press would deny him credit just because he wasn’t white. It’s too good a story – a native diviner deciding the alignment of a railway tunnel – to suppress out of racial prejudice.

Other questions

The original deadline for the Kalka-Simla railway was October 1903, and it opened in November that year. There was no delay at all. The Barog tunnel was completed within the overall project deadline. It took longer than originally anticipated, but that was because of the unexpected difficulties encountered.

Coming back to Col Barog, if he did shoot himself at the mouth of his wrongly aligned tunnel, why was he buried there? Why not in Subathu or Dagshai or Kasauli? There were Christian cemeteries all around.

Also, why is there no report about his suicide in the papers from that time? A colonel killing himself would have been a big deal. It would have been reported not only in India but also the UK and Australia. Yet, you find no mention of a Col Barog anywhere. Besides, he’s not mentioned even in the project plans. Other people are listed in charge of work at Barog, Dharampur and Solan throughout.

Finally, if you have visited the other tunnel, rather cave, you would have noticed it’s not big enough for a train to pass. It’s quite low in fact, somewhat like the mouth of a coal mine. And maybe that’s what it was, for as the Punjab State Gazetteer for 1904 says, “In tunnelling the Barog hill section of the Kalka-Simla railway a coal seam was also seen.”

Trains those days ran on coal, and a coal mine halfway to Simla would have been very useful. But that’s just conjecture. I don’t know what the other tunnel was for, but I find it hard to believe it had anything to do with the Barog railway tunnel.

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When summer meant a ban on mithai

In the 1970s, Uttar Pradesh had a law that gave a police officer the power to “enter and search any place or premises where he has reason to believe that…”

It wasn’t about curbing gunrunning, or bootlegging, or prostitution. The ‘UP Milk and Milk Products Control Order’ was all about preventing the diversion of milk to other states, and for other uses, such as the production of paneer and mithai in the summer months.

Nor was UP alone in this. In August 1965, West Bengal had banned the manufacture of dairy sweets in Kolkata through the West Bengal Channa Sweets Control Order. Punjab’s milk products control order had come into force in June 1966. The Centre had issued ‘Delhi, Meerut and Bulandshahr Milk and Milk Products Control Order’ in 1969. And in Delhi, wedding hosts weren’t allowed to serve sweets made of “khoya, chhana, rabri and khurchan to more than 25 persons at a time at social functions,” following an order passed in 1965.

All of these orders were meant to fight the severe shortage of milk in the summer months when fodder and water for milch animals were scarce. Even otherwise, India was a milk-starved country in the first few decades after Independence. During 1952-55, hardly half a cup of milk (126g) was available per person, per day. In some states, the average daily availability was just 30-50 grams per person.

A large part of the country’s milk requirement was fulfilled with imported – often donated – milk powder. On March 29, 1967, this discussion occurred in the Rajya Sabha:

Niren Ghosh, MP from West Bengal: “There is dearth of milk powder supply in West Bengal. As a result, the entire milk supply scheme is going to collapse next month, and the children and the mothers are not going to get milk.”

S Chandrasekhar, minister of health and family planning: “I know, sir…all the available supplies are being directed to Bihar because of the drought situation…even in Bihar, since the supplies are limited, they are being directed for the use of vulnerable groups of population like nursing mothers and infants and young children.”

So, the policymakers of that era had a reason to ban the diversion of milk for all “non-essential” uses, including mithai. “Government are aware that manufacturers of milk sweets will be adversely affected. But milk sweets are a luxury product…” minister of state for agriculture Annasaheb Shinde said in May 1969.

Happily, Operation Flood was successful, and at the start of the 1990s you find minister of state for agriculture K C Lenka telling Lok Sabha: “now the ban is on conversion of milk into milk powder and condensed milk only.”

Three more decades have passed, and few remember those summers of milk shortage. Now, if a cop knocks at your door, you know he won’t say, “Got milk?”.

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