Mission Raniganj Apr 2026

On the fourth day, as the country watched on grainy black-and-white TV, the drill bit punched through. A roar went up from the crowd. But then—silence. Had they hit water? Had they crushed the men?

On the third lift, the cable frayed. On the eleventh lift, the winch motor overheated and smoked. On the thirty-third lift, a young miner panicked, thrashed inside the capsule, and nearly knocked it off its guide rail. Gill, from below, reached up and held the rail steady with his bare hands until the man calmed down.

The first miner—a frail old man—was strapped into the capsule. Gill signaled the winch operator. The capsule rose. One foot. Ten feet. Fifty feet. Then it jammed. Mission Raniganj

Suddenly, a deafening crack echoed through the tunnel. A nearby river had secretly eaten away at the rock above, and now, millions of gallons of water came crashing through the roof of the mine. The men barely had time to scream.

For his bravery, Jaswant Singh Gill was awarded the Sarvottam Jeevan Raksha Padak, India’s highest civilian gallantry award for rescue operations. To this day, the rescue of 65 miners from the flooded Raniganj coal mine remains one of the greatest and most audacious mining rescues in world history. They called it a miracle. But miracles, as Gill proved, are just stubborn men who refuse to let go. On the fourth day, as the country watched

Gill smiled. "Sardarji is here. Now, listen carefully. No pushing. The oldest first. Then the weakest. Then the rest. You will go alone. You will feel like you are dying. But you will not."

When he stepped onto solid ground, a miner’s wife fell at his feet. "You gave me back my husband," she sobbed. Had they hit water

The plan was insane. Drill a 40-inch-wide vertical shaft through solid rock, directly into the air pocket where the men were huddled. Then, lower a steel "rescue capsule"—a crude, cylindrical cage barely big enough for one man—and haul them up one by one.

But one man refused to accept that verdict.

For the next 48 hours, Gill refused to leave the mine. He sent food and milk down the hole. He sang folk songs over the telephone line to keep morale up. He personally strapped every single miner into the capsule—each time whispering, "Close your eyes. Breathe slow. You are going home."