The extraordinary events of the next day, which resulted in the death of Naunihal Singh, were to plunge Punjab into anarchy and push the Dogras to the forefront in the intrigues of the Lahore Darbar again.
It was not just Naunihal Singh who died on that fateful day, after cremating Maharaja Kharak Singh. The masonry that collapsed over him, crushing his skull, also dealt a body blow to the Sikh empire.
History has been unkind to the Dogra brothers. They are largely portrayed as scheming, villainous plotters who insidiously bit the hand that fed them and brought about the collapse of the Sikh empire.
There is absolutely no doubt that the Dogra brothers were highly ambitious men who were primarily driven by self-interest. The story of their rise from their humble beginnings as ordinary soldiers to the pinnacle of power in one of the greatest empires of its period is so improbable that it almost reads like fiction. There is also no doubt that they excited great jealousy among rival courtiers and were absolutely ruthless in protecting their interests when threatened.
Of all the three brothers, Raja Dhian Singh Dogra stands out for his equanimity, his valour and, of course, his loyalty, which cannot in my view, be tarnished by accounts of his vaunting ambition. At no point in his life did he ever betray Maharaja Ranjit Singh. His willingness to die on his master’s funeral pyre says a lot about the character of the man; there was clearly no precedent or any expectation whatsoever that he should end his life! A convincing case can be made that his plot to kill Chet Singh Bajwa, unseat Maharaja Kharak Singh and place the brilliant young Naunihal Singh on the throne of Lahore was primarily an act of loyalty to the ruling family that he served. Alexander Gardner witnessed this unemotional, composed man personally engage and kill Chet Singh Bajwa, invoking the name of his dead master even as he put to death the man he perceived as the usurper of his master’s legacy.
Had the archway not collapsed on Naunihal Singh’s head as he returned from his father’s funeral, the history of Punjab would have been very different. As perhaps would have been, the legacy of Raja Dhian Singh Dogra.
A WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE
The year was 1798. The scourge of Punjab, the mighty Ahmad Shah Durrani was long dead and his depredations were starting to turn into distant memories. In the years that followed his death in 1772, his son and successor Taimur Shah Durrani presided over the decline of his father’s mighty empire, creating a power vacuum in Punjab that the Sikh Misls were only too happy to fill. Rambunctious aggregations of Sikhs gravitated to powerful Misl chiefs who offered enticing possibilities of sovereignty, prestige and plunder. The chiefs, who owed allegiance to nobody and bowed to none, were collectively the undisputed masters of Punjab.
Five years earlier, upon the death of Taimur Shah, the fifth of his twenty-four sons, Shah Zaman had prevailed in the inevitable internecine battle that ensued and had declared himself the sovereign of the Durrani empire. More ambitious than his father ever was, Shah Zaman eager to re-establish the glory of his grandfather’s reign, turned his eye eastwards to Punjab, which the Afghans claimed as theirs, having wrested control of Lahore from the crumbling remains of the once mighty Mughals of Delhi. In 1795, Shah Zaman crossed the Indus to recapture Hasan Abdal, which was by then in the hands of the Sikhs. A rebellion by his brother Mahmud caused him to return to Kabul. His subsequent attempts to recapture Punjab again in the fall of 1796 and 1798 were to have consequences he could not have imagined.
Sohan Lal, in his work Umdut Ut Twarikh talks of the ‘owl-like shadow’ of Shah Zaman spreading over Punjab as he stood at the head of a well-equipped force of thirty thousand. Things did not look good for the Sikhs. In addition to the invading Afghans, Nizamudin, the chief of Kasur and Sahib Singh, the ruler of Patiala had thrown in their lot with Shah Zaman, who was also cheered on by the Rohilla tribes, the Nawab of Awadh and even Tipu Sultan from distant Mysore!
The reaction of the Sikhs to the invasion can be succinctly summarised in this description of Sikh military strategy when faced with overwhelming odds, from Rattan Singh Bhangoo’s Panth Parkash:
Ham ko nathna guru batya.
Dhai phatt main phatt ginaya.
Daitan te devte bhaj gae.
Apno desh let phir bhae.
The Guru taught us to cut and run
Return to fight, give quarter none
Retreated too the mighty Gods
From demons faced with terrible odds
The Sikhs beat a retreat in the face of the threat. Directly in the path of the invading army lay the territories of two Misls, the Bhangis, led by the battle-hardened Sahib Singh Bhangi and the Sukerchakias led by sixteen-year-old Ranjit Singh. Ranjit Singh fled eastwards to Amritsar at the head of five thousand horsemen, lightly equipped with muskets and spears, clearly no match for the advancing Afghan hordes who had cannon and swivel guns mounted on camels.
The situation was dire. A Sarbat Khalsa, the gathering of all Sikhs, was called at Amritsar.
The Sarbat Khalsa or the general assembly of all Sikhs had by then been established as an institution for making important decisions for the Sikh Panth (nation). The Sarbat Khalsa was conducted at the Akal Takht in the presence of the Sikh scripture, the Guru Granth Sahib. It would occur as a matter of routine on Baisakhi and Bandi Chod Diwas, both important Sikh festivals, and it would be called in times of emergency as well. Examples of issues debated and decided upon include electing a leader for organising an expedition, resolving disputes among Sikh Sardars (chiefs), deciding questions of foreign policy, settling matters regarding the succession of the head of a Misl, planning campaigns and territorial acquisitions, punishing enemies of the Sikh Panth, building new gurdwaras and restoring and rebuilding old ones.
The resolution that resulted from the Sarbat Khalsa was known as the Gurmata, literally, the Guru’s Counsel, and was reflective of the temporal authority that Guru Gobind Singh had bestowed upon the Sikh Panth before he passed, in concert with the investing of the Guru Granth Sahib with the Guru’s spiritual authority.
John Malcolm, one of the earliest observers of the Sikhs, has left behind a colourful account of the Gurmata, which provides a window into what might have transpired on that day.56
According to Malcolm, a Gurmata or great national council was convened in Amritsar when any imminent danger threatened the country, or any large expedition was to be undertaken. All the Sikh chiefs would assemble, setting aside personal differences for the common interest of the community. The assembly was managed by the Akalis, who were the custodians of the Akal Takht, the seat of Sikh temporal authority. The assembly would gather in the presence of the Sikh scripture, the Guru Granth Sahib and hymns would be sung, after which the Akalis would lead the congregation in prayer. The Guru Granth Sahib would then be opened at random and the hymn read would represent the Guru’s command for the day and the endeavour under discussion.
A sweet concoction of wheat flour, butter and sugar, known as ‘Karah Parshad’ would then be distributed to all, regardless of caste, creed or position. The Akalis would then announce to the Sardars or Chiefs, ‘This is a Gurmata’ and ask them to swear to unite for the common cause in the presence of the Sikh scripture. An open discussion would then follow on the danger at hand and the best way to address it. If a confrontation was imminent, generals would be chosen to lead the combined Sikh forces. After consensus was reached, the Akalis would proclaim ‘Jo Bole So Nihal’ or ‘Whomever speaks this shall be blessed’, the assemblage would respond with ‘Sat Sri Akal’ or ‘God, the timeless is true’, acknowledging and endorsing the decisions that had just been made.
Bracing for the onslaught of the Afghans in 1798, Sahib Singh Bhangi put forth the view at the Sarbat Khalsa that traditional ‘dhai phatt’ tactics would serve the Sikhs best (dhai phatt literally means two-and-a-half blows—hit hard, retreat and hit again, referred to in Rattan Singh Bhangoo’s quote) and advocated that the Sikh forces abandon the towns and villages in the plains of Punjab and flee to the hills where the women and children had alr
eady been sent for their safety. The council was coming around to embracing Sahib Singh Bhangi’s response to Shah Zaman.
And then, something happened that would change the course of the history of Punjab.
The sixteen-year-old lad got up to speak. He urged the Sikhs to stand and fight and almost inexplicably found himself at the head of the combined Sikh force. The Afghans, by then, had taken Lahore, the capital of Punjab. The young chief and his forces evicted the Afghans and their allies from the countryside around Lahore, forcing them to seek refuge in the city and waged a relentless dhai phat campaign against the invaders, attacking them in different quarters of the city each night. This game of cat and mouse continued until Shah Zaman had to return to Khorasan (Afghanistan) to fend off a challenge to his monarchy from his brother Mahmud, leaving his general Shahanchi Khan in charge at the head of a twelve thousand strong force. The Sikhs, true to form, harried the Afghans all the way to the Jhelum, attacking their supply lines and relieving them of much of their plunder. Shahanchi Khan, determined to teach the impudent Sikhs a lesson, tried to surround them at a place called Rasul Nagar, but was soundly defeated by the forces of Ranjit Singh.
For the first time, the Sikhs had taken on the Afghans and prevailed.
What was not widely known was that when Ranjit Singh got up to speak, urging the more experienced Sikh chieftains to take a stand, the words issuing from his mouth were that of his closest advisor and mentor, a formidable woman called Sada Kaur, who also happened to be his mother-in-law! History has not preserved her motivation. Perhaps she was just fed up of the depredations of the Afghans, but it is also possible that she saw a unique opportunity for her young son-in-law to distinguish himself. It was clear that Afghan power was on the wane. Perhaps she had the foresight to see that Punjab was for the taking and that her son-in-law could be positioned to fill the power vacuum that the decline of the Afghans and the Mughals had created.
A year later, Shah Zaman was back determined to avenge his humiliation.
Once again, Sahib Singh Bhangi and Ranjit Singh abandoned their territories of Gujrat and Gujranwala to the rampaging Afghans. The British Resident in Delhi, Colonel John Collins, in a dispatch commented on the ‘timidity’ of the Sikhs.
Once again the Sarbat Khalsa was convened and once again the tactics of strategic retreat and dhai phat were proposed by the greybeards.
But this time, Sada Kaur was centrestage at the Sarbat Khalsa.
Sada Kaur’s role in persuading the Sikhs to stand and fight appears at best as a tantalising footnote to Sikh history. Khushwant Singh briefly makes note of this in Volume One of his History of The Sikhs and addresses it only slightly more substantively in his book Ranjit Singh: Maharaja of The Punjab. According to Khushwant Singh, Sada Kaur addressed the gathering and proclaimed that ‘if the Sardars chose to flee, she would lead the Sikhs who were willing to follow her’ to resist the Afghans.
All eyes were on a few powerful Sikh Sardars or chiefs, mostly greybeards who were the acknowledged leaders of the Sikhs. Foremost among them was Sardar Sahib Singh Bedi, a descendant of the first Sikh master, Guru Nanak, who was universally revered by the Sikhs. Sahib Singh Bhangi, the leader of the powerful Bhangi Misl once again advocated retreat in the face of the threat. Sahib Singh Phulkian, the leader of the Phulkian Misl, based in Patiala agreed. Of all the Misls, the Phulkian was notorious for always seeking benefit for itself, often at the expense of the common good and even siding with Afghan invaders against their Sikh bretheren.
Sahib Singh Bedi was about to call a conclusion to the Gurmata when Sada Kaur stood up to speak. As the matriarch of the Kanhaya Misl, she represented a powerful force, but the glory days of her Misl were over and after the death of her husband, it did not seem to have a viable leader. Her son-in-law, Ranjit Singh, who represented the Sukerchakia Misl was still young and relatively untested. Nobody believed that he could take the Afghans head-on despite some of his early successes against them.
Sada Kaur unleashed the full power of her rhetoric upon the gathering. She invoked the words of the Sikh Gurus and reminded the assembly of their valour. She spoke plainly of the tyranny of the Afghans, their repeated invasions, their enslaving of so many young men and women and asked the assembly if it was ever going to end. When some in the assembly called her mad, she embraced the charge and swore that she was afflicted with the same divine madness that had inspired the Sikh Gurus, their children and their early followers to fight injustice and sacrifice themselves even at the cost of their lives.
The historian Hari Ram Gupta in Volume V of The History of The Sikhs suggests that when the Sikh chiefs continued to baulk at the notion of a confrontation with the Afghans, Sada Kaur shamed them by declaring, ‘If you are disposed to assist Ranjit Singh, advance and join him, if not, throw off that dress and take mine; give me your clothes and I will march against the enemy.’
Her soaring rhetoric had the intended effect. The Sikh Sardars agreed to stay and fight, once again under the command of the young Ranjit Singh. True to form, Sahib Singh, the leader of the Phulkiyan Misl, pledged his support to the invader, as did Nawab Nizamuddin of Kasur, who desired to be the governor of Lahore and Sansar Chand, the Hindu chief of Kangra. With the support of such allies, Shah Zaman was able to take Lahore without much resistance. Shah Zaman had taken pains to forbid the looting of Lahore by his forces. His singular focus was the extermination of the Sikhs, whom he correctly recognised as the key impediment towards his overlordship of Punjab. He sent a large detachment towards Amritsar to deal with the Sikhs but it was routed by Ranjit Singh’s forces. Ranjit Singh laid siege to Lahore and the Sikhs successfully resisted the Afghans until Shah Zaman finally tried to buy the loyalty of individual Sardars. Another rebellion by his brother Mahmud forced him to return to Kabul again. Once again, the Sikhs hounded the Afghans all the way from Gujranwala to the Jhelum as they withdrew.
Sada Kaur’s grand design appeared to have been successful. Her young son-in-law was the de-facto master of Punjab and he was irrevocably in her debt!
Who was this woman who had the foresight to see the opportunity rising from the ashes of Mughal and Afghan power and the chutzpah to stand up and speak in what, despite the Gurus’ dictums on the equality of the sexes, was very much a man’s world? Who recognised the potential of the one-eyed, diminutive, pockmarked scion of one of the weakest fiefdoms of Punjab? Who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him and helped him carve out one of the mightiest empires that the Indian subcontinent had ever known—the only one that could withstand the might of the British and the Afghans?
Historians of different eras present widely varying assessments of Sada Kaur.
Muhammad Latif in his History of the Panjab calls her ‘… one of the most remarkable women in the history of Punjab … the mainstay of Ranjit Singh’s power, the ladder, whereby that monarch had been enabled to reach the summit of greatness.’ Fakir Syed Waheeduddin in his work, The Real Ranjit Singh, refers to her as ‘one of the most high spirited and capable women in Sikh history.’ According to Khushwant Singh, ‘she more than anyone else directed his (Ranjit Singh’s) unbounded energy towards unifying the Punjab’. Lepel Griffin, author of Ranjeet Singh writes: ‘When his father died, the prospects of Ranjit Singh would have been very unfavourable had it not been for his mother-in-law, Sada Kour, who was not only a woman of the greatest ability, but had succeeded, as the widow and heiress of Sirdar Gurbuksh Singh, to the head of the Kanheya misl. This lady resolved, so far as she was able, to retain the power in her own hands, and use the force of both confederacies, Kanheyas and Sukarchakias, to break the power of all rivals.’ In The History of The Sikhs, W.L. McGregor calls her ‘one of the most artful and ambitious women to figure in Sikh history’ and suggests that her eventual goal was ‘by getting control of the youthful Runjeet, she might easily subject the Punjab to her dominion’.
While there seems to be startling consensus about the significant role that Sada Kaur played in Ranjit Singh’s rise, she is ha
rdly a household name. Who exactly was Sada Kaur?
Sada Kaur was born in 1762 in Ferozepur during a time of great turmoil. The mighty Mughal empire of Delhi had collapsed and a year before her birth, Ahmad Shah Durrani had crushed the Marathas at Panipat, effectively extending Afghan control over Punjab, all the way to the Sutlej river. Throughout the repeated incursions of the Afghans into Punjab, the Sikh Misls offered the only resistance that they encountered. The Kanhaya Misl, founded and led by the formidable warrior Jai Singh was one of the most powerful, controlling a wide swathe of territory in the northern part of Punjab with their sway extending to Jammu and the hill states in the Himalayan foothills. Dasaunda Singh, the father of Sada Kaur arranged a match between his daughter and Gurbaksh Singh, son of Jai Singh, launching her into the thick of the intrigue between the Misls.
After the years of terrible repression in the early eighteenth century, the Sikhs had started to organise around the Sarbat Khalsas, forming amorphous bands or jathas that would come together and dissipate depending on the needs of the community. By 1733, they were organised in two main jathas, the Budha (elder) Dal, which was assigned the task of protecting Amritsar and the Taruna (younger) Dal, which was sent on various campaigns. By 1748, the combined force, known as the Dal Khalsa had grown significantly under the leadership of sixty-three individual Jathedars (chiefs). Nawab Kapur Singh, who was by then the undisputed leader of the Sikhs felt that the proliferation of tiny fiefdoms was a strategic risk and led the reorganisation of the Dal Khalsa into eleven Misls.
Until around 1767, when the threat of Ahmed Shah Durrani loomed large over Punjab the Misls largely remained united in the face of a common enemy under the command of the Sarbat Khalsa. However, as the threat started to recede, fierce jockeying for power started among them. The influence of the Sarbat Khalsa started to wane and the focus of the Misls turned to seizing territory. The eleven Misls and the nominal twelfth, based in Patiala, became the rulers of Punjab.
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