The air in Kargil crackled with tension. It was the summer of 1999, and the mountains were echoing with the wind, trembling under the relentless thunder of artillery shells. As the Kargil War escalated, civilians were fleeing, soldiers were advancing, and uncertainty hung thick over every hill and valley.
On one such evening, the All India Radio (AIR) station in Kargil faced a barrage of enemy shelling. The shelling was so intense that the station engineers and technicians fled and rightly so. A small group however remained, including Tsering Angmo Shunu, station director for AIR Leh and Kargil.
Tsering Angmo Shunu, the station director of All India Radio (AIR) Kargil, could have left like the others. Engineers had abandoned their posts, shelling had damaged buildings, and the enemy was within range. But Angmo didn’t flinch. With the walls around her shaking and the station on the verge of silence with people fleeing, she made a call to restart the generator. The broadcast had to go on.
Angmo wanted truth countering propaganda, morale-defying fear, and the voice of a nation standing tall amid smoke and rubble. She kept transmitting bulletins; she was holding the front line in her own way, ensuring that the soldiers on the heights and the families in the valleys heard one clear message: India has not gone silent.
What followed over the next few weeks was nothing short of extraordinary. This is a story of resolve, resourcefulness, and an unshakable commitment to duty, as one woman helped turn a modest radio station into a powerful tool of resistance, reassurance, and mobilisation.
Beating Back Enemy Propaganda
AIR’s role during the war was critical: countering propaganda from outlets like Radio Pakistan, which kept falsely claiming Indian casualties and downed helicopters. Every day, amidst shelling, Angmo ensured the station remained functional. She personally recorded morale-boosting messages for soldiers, aired ones from fans, and relayed urgent requests to support army efforts.
On 6 June 1999, she announced on air in Hindi:
“The Indian Army needs porters to carry loads to the front. Please come forward to help; the country needs you.”
This call, urged by Colonel Vinay Dutta, invited able-bodied young men to assemble at Leh Polo Ground for recruitment. Through her voice, she turned a radio station into a rallying cry for Ladakh’s youth.
Surviving Under Shellfire
The roar of artillery became a grim soundtrack to life in Kargil. Day after day, the town was pounded by Pakistani shelling. Buildings crumbled. Streets emptied. And yet, from within the battered compound of All India Radio, Angmo refused to surrender to silence.
She and her dwindling team would often retreat to the nearby village of Mingi followed by heavy shelling. There, in cramped community spaces or modest village homes, they slept on bare floors, clutching woollen wraps, catching brief hours of sleep amid the distant thud of shells echoing through the valleys. But the moment the shelling subsided, they were back. Back to Kargil. Back to the ruins of their station. Back to the mic. This process was repeated for weeks.
At one point, nearly 300 artillery shells rained down on the town in a single day. The compound of All India Radio didn’t escape the barrage. The station’s hostel was obliterated. Shards of glass, twisted metal, and broken walls greeted them on return. The structural damage was also psychological. The station was no longer a safe haven. It was a target.
Technicians panicked. Some left. Others begged Angmo to abandon the post. Even New Delhi asked them to evacuate. But Angmo wasn’t wired for retreat.
When engineers left, she didn’t waver. She went straight to the Indian Army, requesting their support to keep the transmitters running. With shells falling and communications hanging by a thread, military engineers stepped in, rewiring broken equipment, patching cables, and helping Angmo do what no one else had the stomach to do, keep the broadcast alive and beat the enemy propaganda.
Angmo was motivated by purpose. AIR Kargil had become a battleground in its own sense. It was the only line of credible communication for locals terrified by rumours and propaganda. It was a morale booster for soldiers. And most of all, it was India’s voice in a war being fought as much with information as with bullets.
Angmo’s defiance wasn’t loud. It didn’t make headlines then. But inside a shattered studio, under flickering lights and a sky roaring with fire, her quiet resolve became one of Kargil’s most unrecognised acts of frontline bravery.
Mobilising Ladakhi Youth
Born into a farming family in Leh, Angmo joined AIR in 1975 after an incomplete postgraduation in Kashmir, thanks to her marriage. At one time, the Indian Army was having issues in the transportation of equipment to crazy heights. The troops called in would have to wait for a couple of days to acclimatise to do this frequently for them. That prompted them to recruit the local youth, who were already acclimatised to the harsh conditions of the hills. But how to take that message to the public?
Following a successful recruitment drive in Leh, she also mobilised the youth of Ladakh to work as porters for the Indian Army. In fact, to lead the way was her own 18-year-old son, Ricky (Stanzin Jaydun), to volunteer as a porter. She persuaded him. Within four days, 200 young men, already acclimatised to high altitude and rugged terrain, volunteered. Soon, their numbers swelled to 800, divided into two platoons and dispatched on trucks to Biama, eight hours from Leh
These porters carried 30 kg loads, three times the average, on steep mountain trails leading directly to the battlefront sectors of Batalik-Yaldor and Chorbat La. Some even assisted in evacuating injured and fallen soldiers. Their motivation was clear: serve the country. Later Indian Army invited the local youths who served as porters to get compensation for their service. But they did not show up. All they wanted was to serve their country in any way that they could in the time of crisis, motivated by a lovely voice coming from the radio.
Triumph in Adversity
By 26 July 1999, Vijay Diwas, Indian forces had reclaimed control. The armed forces received accolades, but civilians like Angmo and her volunteers were often overlooked. With steadfast resolve, a radio station manager and her young volunteers ensured communications remained unbroken, supporting morale, logistics, and truth amidst war.
Tsering Angmo Shunu’s bravery is inspiring, it’s instructive. In the face of bombardment, she elevated her role beyond broadcasting. She became a commander, a motivator, and a mobilizer, like a true leader. The station waves she sent out were the very signals of defiance and unity, fuel for a nation at war with deceit.
Her quiet heroism reminds us that wars are fought not only on battlefields, but also in signals, in morale, and in the determined voices of those who refuse to stay silent.
