I was a child growing up in Bangalore when the 1971 war broke out and Bangladesh was born. My memory of those weeks is vivid — not of battles, but of the small ways a distant war reached our daily lives. The government distributed extra kerosene to citizens because we cooked on kerosene stoves in those days, and shortages were a real concern. That rationing, that small domestic gesture of a government at war, has stayed with me for over fifty years.
So when Indian cinema takes up the stories of that war, I watch with more than casual interest. Last weekend I saw Ikkis, the film about Second Lieutenant Arun Khetrapal of the Poona Horse regiment, who was just 21 years old when he fought — and died — in the Battle of Basantar. The title itself is the Hindi word for twenty-one.
The Battle of Basantar: What Actually Happened
The Battle of Basantar took place in December 1971 along the Basantar River in the Shakargarh sector of Punjab. It was one of the largest tank battles of the war — and one of the most decisive. India lost around 16 tanks but destroyed or captured over 40 Pakistani tanks, breaking through Pakistani defences in a sector they had heavily fortified.
Khetrapal's actions during this battle became the stuff of military legend. His tank was hit, he was wounded, and he was ordered to pull back. He refused. He kept engaging Pakistani armour until his tank was destroyed and he was killed. He was awarded India's highest gallantry honour, the Param Vir Chakra, posthumously. He was 21.
Ikkis: A Recommended Watch, With One Honest Reservation
Ikkis is worth watching — I recommend it without hesitation. It brings a story that deserves mainstream attention, and it does something not all war films manage: it reminds you that on both sides of a war are human beings. The thread showing Pakistani hospitality, whatever its execution, is an attempt to hold that truth.
My honest reservation is that the film tried to be everything to everyone — a love story, a war film, and a cross-border human drama all at once. The result is uneven. A tighter, more focused telling of Khetrapal's final hours in battle, without the diversions, would have been far more powerful. The story itself needs no embellishment.
Available on Amazon Prime Video with subtitles — no Hindi required to follow and appreciate the film.
India's highest gallantry honour, awarded posthumously to Khetrapal. Equivalent in stature to the Victoria Cross or the Medal of Honor.
One of India's oldest armoured regiments, tracing its history to 1817. Khetrapal served in this regiment during the battle.
The film's best quality is its willingness to show Pakistani soldiers as human beings — a difficult but important choice for any war film to make.
The Ground Where It Happened
The Pul Kanjari memorial, dedicated to the 2nd Battalion of the Sikh Regiment, stands in the flat agricultural landscape of Punjab near the border — garlands still fresh on the plinth, the date 17 December 1971 inscribed clearly. Someone visits. Someone still cares.
And the landscape itself — paddy fields stretching to the horizon, power lines, border fencing barely visible through the haze — is a reminder of how ordinary the ground looks today. It is hard to imagine that this quiet, flat terrain was where armoured columns fought one of the largest tank battles on the subcontinent.
Why These Stories Matter
A 21-year-old who had every reason to pull back chose not to. That choice, made in a matter of seconds in a burning tank on the Basantar River, changed the battle. Films like Ikkis — imperfect as they may be — ensure that choice is not forgotten by a generation that did not live through it.
For those of us who were children in 1971, watching that kerosene being rationed, hearing the news on the radio, these films are something more personal than history. They are a connection to a moment we experienced but could not fully understand at the time.
