Remembering Tamil victims of the 'death railway' 80 years on

On a warm January morning in Thailand's western Kanchanaburi province, Silva Kumar oversaw the cremation of 106 skulls and bones — remains of Tamil laborers who perished nearly 80 years ago building a railway for Japan's occupying military.

Kumar, the son of a survivor, stood before the ceremonial fire.

The Buddhist ceremony marked a long-overdue recognition of those who had been forgotten in unmarked graves, their suffering erased from history.

Silva explained that the remains were unearthed during a construction project near the governor's office in Kanchanaburi, shedding light on a painful past.

"Of the 500 bones initially discovered in 1990, 106 were handed over to the JEATH Museum by the Archaeological Department of Silpakorn University, while the rest were cremated by a Chinese foundation," Silva said.

Silva, chairman of the Malaysians and Indians in Bangkok (MIB) organization, said the initiative coincides with the museum's planned closure in April.

Silva's father was among the survivors, and his memories of the brutal conditions drove Silva to personally lead the initiative.

Under Japanese rule, Asian laborers were treated as expendable — their suffering went unrecorded, and their deaths were ignored.

Between 1942 and 1945, around a quarter million romusha — the Japanese term for conscripted Asian workers — were forced to work on the Thailand-Burma Railway during the Japanese occupation of Southeast Asia in World War II.

Though promised wages, they were instead subjected to brutal labor. Many died from malnutrition, disease, and exhaustion, their bodies left in unmarked graves.

While the suffering of the 12,000 Allied prisoners of war (POWs) who perished alongside them has been well-documented, the estimated 90,000 Asian laborers who lost their lives remain largely forgotten.

The cost of the death railway

The 415-kilometer (258-mile) railway was built to connect Bangkok to Yangon (formerly Rangoon, Myanmar) for Japanese military supply lines.

The project, later called the "death railway," became infamous for its brutal working conditions.

While Allied POWs suffered immensely, the romusha, who far outnumbered them, faced even worse conditions.

The Imperial Japanese Army planned the railway as a strategic military route. Many workers from Malaya and Java were deceived with promises of good wages, only to be subjected to forced labor under extreme conditions.

Cholera, dysentery, and malaria were rampant. Those too weak to work were often beaten — or simply left to die.

The Thai-Burma Railway cut through thick jungles, and getting supplies was difficult," said Dr. J.J. Karwacki, a retired US veteran and amateur historian.

"Everyone suffered — everyone had malaria, everyone had dysentery, and everyone experienced malnutrition to some extent. The POWs had organization, discipline, and military structure, so they could take care of themselves. Their death rate was about 20%, but for the unvaccinated Asian workers, it was much higher."

Records of the romusha are scarce.

"The Japanese ensured that every physical record was destroyed immediately after the war. In the two weeks between the surrender and the formal ceremony in September, they reportedly decided to eliminate everything related to the Asian laborers," he added.

"They felt an obligation to the POWs to preserve those records and hand them over to the Allies," Karwacki told DW.

Bringing the romusha out of the shadows

Efforts are now being made to formally acknowledge their contributions.

A group of Tamil cultural advocates have installed a Nadukal, or a Tamil heroes' stone, at the main war cemetery in Kanchanaburi.

"The Nadukal is a symbol of honor for Tamil workers who died unjustly," said Kumutha N., who was also present at the cremations.

"They were forgotten in history. This is a small step to give them dignity."

Official recognition has been slow. While war memorials exist for Allied POWs, few in Thailand honor the romusha who died.

The Thai government, focused on promoting Kanchanaburi as a tourism hub, made famous by the Oscar-winning film "The Bridge on the River Kwai," has shown little interest in expanding historical documentation of the romusha.

Tracing the past

A growing number of volunteers are working to uncover forgotten sections of the railway. Many sites have been overtaken by jungle, and the remains of labor camps have disappeared.

Volunteer teams, made up of community members, are using satellite imagery and historical accounts to locate remnants of the railway, labor camps, and gravesites.

The work is slow and painstaking, but they believe it is crucial to preserving the full history of the death railway.

"We find fragments, rusted tools, railway spikes, pieces of history," said Thansawath Saranyathadawong, a local volunteer who maps the railway with his team of friends and enthusiasts.

"Tourists come here to see the bridge, but they don't know [the full] history. Now, most people don't know where the railway is, or where it goes beyond Namtok station in Kanchanaburi."

Even decades later, the romusha have remained largely invisible. Their remains have been found in mass graves, often uncovered by accident during construction projects or land excavations.

With no official records, many of these remains have been cremated or reburied without proper acknowledgment.

"It is about honoring the full history of this railway and ensuring these men, children and women are not erased from it," said Silva.

For advocates like Silva, this is just the beginning of the fight to ensure the romusha are remembered alongside other war victims.

As smoke drifts over Kanchanaburi Buddhist cemetery, it serves as a final farewell — and a long-overdue recognition — for the Tamil romusha. 

Edited by: Keith Walker