The year is 1672. Across a low ridge in the Deccan, the Mughal frontline glitters in the sun. On the Maratha side there is no drumbeat nor theatrical display. Only the controlled breathing of horses held in impeccable discipline. Leather creaks softly and hooves shovel in the dust. The riders sit upright, reins loose but firm, swords resting at their sides. A Subedar turns in his saddle and raises his voice into the wind – “Jai Bhavani!” From a hundred throats comes the answering thunder – “Har Har Mahadev!” And then the line begins to move. First at a measured trot, then at a gallop, the Maratha cavalry surges forward with speed and resolve. It is in that legacy of mobility and discipline, that the story of the 61 Cavalry truly begins.
When India became independent in 1947, it inherited not only territory and institutions but traditions. Among them the cavalry forces of numerous princely states. Jodhpur Horse, Jaipur Horse, Gwalior Lancers, Mysore Lancers and others had long histories of mounted service. Some drew from Rajput courts, some from Central Indian state forces and but most were steeped in the martial conventions of the Maratha heartland. Their officers had ridden in imperial campaigns and in ceremonial reviews. Independence posed a question – in a mechanising world, what place is there for the horse? By 1953, the answer was clear – the Republic of India would modernise its armoured corps and tanks would replace chargers. But it would also preserve one living cavalry regiment as a custodian of skill. Several princely state mounted units were amalgamated to form 61 Cavalry. In that act of consolidation, centuries of regional traditions were gathered into a single standard. The result was extraordinary – the last fully horse-mounted cavalry regiment in active service anywhere in the world.
To watch 61 Cavalry today is to understand that this is no museum piece. On ceremonial parade, gleaming lances tipped with fluttering pennants catch the morning light. Breastplates shine like mirrors. Scarlet tunics, plumed turbans, polished boots and perfectly aligned saddles conjure a continuity of history. The horse, impeccably groomed, move with hooves striking the tarmac in rhythmic unison. Yet behind the spectacle stand trained soldiers of the Indian Army. The horses are ceremonial but the men are not. In times of operational requirement, they transition into conventional roles. Tradition here rests on a foundation of professional competence. The regiment’s identity carries unmistakable Maratha echoes. A substantial proportion of its troopers even today, trace lineage to regions where mounted service once defined a way of life. The light, fast-moving cavalry perfected under the Maratha Empire, valued speed and surprise. Those instincts remain embedded in the regiment’s culture. And yet 61 Cavalry is not the preserve of any single heritage. Qaimkhani Muslims have been part of its legacy since inception, carried forward from the former Jodhpur and Jaipur Horse units. Rajputs, Marathas, Sikhs and others stand shoulder to shoulder in its ranks.
Many years ago, on a flight back from Singapore, your columnist found himself seated beside a young gentleman whose bearing suggested aristocracy. Conversation began and it emerged that he was Tunku Ismail Idris, heir to Sultanate of Johor in Malaysia. More intriguing still, he had been commissioned with 61 Cavalry. Through such associations, the regiment became not only a custodian of India’s mounted past but an ambassador of it. What makes 61 Cavalry unique is not simply that it rides horses but that India consciously chose preservation alongside progress. From the dust-charged plains where Maratha horsemen once answered the cry of “Jai Bhavani,” to the amalgamation of princely state forces into a republican army, to the immaculate parade lines of today, the story remains constant. When the Subedar Major today calls out and the troopers respond in unison, the sound carries history.