The Camel Merchant of Philadelphia

by Sarbpreet Singh

  By then the Rani had an inkling of what was to follow and she began to shriek and wail, exhorting the panches to spare her brother. As Jawahar Singh was ordered to dismount, he lost his head and attempted to parley with the panches. A tall Sikh soldier ascended to the howdah and slapped Jawahar Singh hard, snatching the young Maharaja from his arms. Duleep Singh was brought to his mother, and she, standing behind the walls of her tent, desperately held the child up above them in full view of the army, hoping that the sight of their young king might move the panches to be merciful.

  A soldier briskly clambered up a ladder placed by Jawahar Singh’s elephant, stabbed him with his bayonet, and flung him upon the ground, where several other soldiers fell upon him and sent him to his maker with more than fifty wounds.

  The deaths of Kashmira Singh and Peshora Singh had been avenged.

  Jawahar Singh was cremated the next day. His four wives burnt themselves on his funeral pyre, cursing the Sikh army and prophesying that the wives of the Sikh soldiers would soon be widows and that Punjab would burn. Rani Jindan returned to the palace screaming and threatening to immolate herself and her young son.

  The panches were now firmly in control of the empire. They appointed Diwan Dina Nath, one of the late Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s most trustworthy courtiers, as their mouthpiece and delivered strict instructions to the court that no correspondence with the British was permitted without being reviewed by them. The panches acted in the name of the Sikh body politic, the Khalsa Panth and their orders were issued under the seal ‘Akal Sahai’ (the Lord is our helper).

  The British were very alarmed at the state of affairs in the empire. They saw the panches as an unstable force and didn’t quite know how to deal with either their democratic governance or their fervent expressions of allegiance to the Sikh faith. The British agent, Colonel Richmond, was instructed to make it clear to the Lahore court that the only form of government that was acceptable to them in Punjab was a monarchy! At the same time, the instability seemed to provide an opportunity for intervention that they were eager to exploit.

  Yet the British were reluctant to act, as there was no justifiable reason for them to go to war with the Sikhs. Lord Hardinge, the Governor General, wrote to his predecessor Lord Ellenborough on 23 January, 1845: ‘Self-preservation may require the dispersion of the Sikh army, but how are we to justify the seizure of our friend’s territory who in adversity assisted us?’81

  Lord Hardinge first believed in maintaining a strong Sikh state as a buffer between British India and the Muslim states beyond the Indus, but the instability in the empire convinced him that it would not survive. He made a decision to support Gulab Singh Dogra and wait for the opportune moment to annex Punjab.

  Major Broadfoot, who had now replaced Colonel Richmond as British Resident in Punjab, was an avowed hawk and played a large role in creating a climate of mistrust between the Sikh empire and the British. J.D. Cunningham, who was in Punjab during this period goes so far as to claim, ‘Broadfoot’s appointment greatly increased the probability of war with the Sikhs. Had Mr. Clerk of Colonel Wade been the British representative in 1845, they would have gone to Lahore in person and taken measures to show that the British Government would not be aggressors and would have told the Sikh chiefs that a war would compromise them.’82

  Despite Lord Hardinge’s intentions, the British army mustered along the Sutlej was not strong enough to take on the Sikhs and he quietly started to enhance his force. A steady movement of British troops to the frontier started and a fleet of sixty flat-bottomed boats capable of carrying 6000 soldiers and designed to link together to form a pontoon bridge was commissioned. The movement of the fleet was bound to attract attention and make the Sikhs suspicious. Broadfoot, if questioned, was instructed to say that the boats were being deployed to meet the increase of commercial traffic on the river Indus.

  By September 1845, the British force on the Cis-Sutlej side had swelled from 17,000 men and sixty-six guns to 40,000 men and ninety-four guns. In hindsight, this was the clearest indicator of British intent. In the first week of December, the same year, Lord Gough, the British commander in chief, personally led units from the cantonments at Meerut and Ambala to Ferozepur, where he was met by General Littler.

  The bridge of boats had been assembled at Ferozepur over the Sutlej and Punjab beckoned.

  While the British were carefully making preparations for war, the Lahore court did nothing. In Broadfoot’s words, they were busy ‘drinking and intriguing politically and amorously’. In a letter to Lord Currie in August 1845, Broadfoot wrote: ‘Sometimes I feel like a parish constable at the door of a brothel, rather than a representative of one government to another.’83

  The court indulged itself in the pleasures of the flesh, one scandal following another, while many of the chiefs, fearful of the control the Sikh army exercised, were communicating with the British, promising fealty if their personal estates were guaranteed. Rather than doing anything about the British military build-up, the chiefs and courtiers used the rumours of British troop movements to whip up the Sikh army’s Anglophobia, in an attempt to direct its attention away from their scandalous conduct and their treachery.

  The Sikh army was hostile to the court, effectively blackmailing it to extract higher wages; at the time of the war, soldiers in the Sikh army drew twice the pay of the British sepoy! The British were hated outsiders who coveted their homeland and the panches were very aware that they were intriguing with the Sikh chiefs. Interestingly, even though the panches bore great responsibility for the chaos in the empire and its eventual collapse, they managed to keep the army very disciplined, maintaining order in the camps, casting new guns, constructing carriages and building up stores of arms and ammunition. They also managed to resurrect the fierce pride that the Sikhs had in their fighting abilities and fired them with the ambition to drive the firangis (foreigners) into the sea. Alexander Gardner, present in Lahore at the time, wrote, ‘Their devotion to their mystic faith and dogged determination filled the bosom of each soldier, who was willing to go to the sacrifice.’84

  In November 1845, Lal Singh, Rani Jindan’s paramour was appointed Wazir or Prime Minister and Tej Singh was appointed commander-in-chief of the Sikh army. Lal Singh, born a Brahmin, had entered the service of the court in 1832 as a writer in the treasury and had risen rapidly through the patronage of the late Raja Dhian Singh Dogra. He rose to the highest levels of the court during the brief tenure of Raja Hira Singh Dogra as Wazir, largely because of his scandalous relationship with Rani Jindan. Tej Singh, the nephew of Jemadar Kushal Singh, once Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s chamberlain and great favourite was a Gaur Brahmin who had converted to Sikhism. He distinguished himself in battle during his early career and rose to become a commander of twenty-two battalions of the regular Sikh army by 1839 and was a close friend of the late Naunihal Singh. They would play a large role in the events that unfolded next.

  Matters came to a head in December 1845. Lord Hardinge was on his way to the frontier and on 3 December, the British formally ended diplomatic relations with the Sikh Empire by handing its agent his passport and instructing him to return to Lahore. The Sikh army crossed the Sutlej near Hari Ke Pattan on 11 December, to its own territory across the Sutlej. Hardinge saw the opportunity and seized it, declaring war and accusing the Sikhs of invading British territory without a shadow of provocation.

  The First Anglo-Sikh War had begun.

  Even though the British publicly maintained they declared war in a response to the Sikh’s aggression, the private comments of several British commanders clearly indicate that they were very cognisant of their perfidy and bad faith. Five days after the declaration of war, Lord Hardinge remarked to Robert Cust, Broadfoot’s assistant, that the British public might not believe that there had been an invasion of the British Frontier! Cust himself referred to the advance of the British as the first British invasion of the independent kingdom of Punjab.85

  The most searing indictment of the Briti
sh comes from one of their own, Major G. Carmichael Smyth:

  Regarding the Punjab war; I am neither of opinion, that the Sikhs made an unprovoked attack, nor that we have acted towards them with great forbearance. If the Sikhs were to be considered an independent state, in no way answerable to us, we should not have provoked them! To assert that the bridge of boats brought from Bombay, was merely a defensive measure is absurd; besides, the Sikhs had translations of Sir Charles Napier’s speech, as it appeared in the Delhi Gazette, stating that we were going to war with them; and, as all European powers would have done under such circumstances, the Sikhs thought it well to be first in the field. Moreover, they were not encamped in our territory, but their own. We have been told that the Sikhs violated the treaty, by crossing the river with their army, but the question is, was not the treaty null and void when they crossed? Had we not departed from the rules of friendship first?86

  The Sikh army was divided into two; Tej Singh left for Ferozepur to take on General Littler and Lal Singh set up an encampment near the village of Ferozeshahr and he left to intercept Lord Gough and Lord Hardinge. It was 18 December, 1845. The British force had advanced to Mudki and despite being outnumbered, Lal Singh ordered his troops to attack while he personally went back to Ferozeshahr. Despite being leaderless, the Sikh army fought valiantly against a larger force led by the most experienced commanders of Europe. The battle continued until midnight and the Sikh army retreated with the loss of half their men and fifteen guns. The battle of Mudki gave the British their first real look at the mettle of the Sikh soldiers. The British force suffered heavy casualties, losing 872 men, including many senior officers.

  The second battle was fought three days later. Lord Gough arrived within sight of the Sikh entrenchments on the morning of December 21 and was joined by General Littler, who had evaded Tej Singh, by afternoon. The British tried to overrun the Sikhs with a concentrated frontal assault, deploying infantry, cavalry and artillery. The Sikhs resisted valiantly and the fighting continued until midnight. Almost every member of Governor General Hardinge’s staff was killed, including Major Broadfoot. Sir Hope Grant, a British general who was there wrote in his memoir, ‘Never in the annals of our India warfare was a British army so close to annihilation. The Sikhs had recovered their entrenched camp and our exhausted and decimated divisions bivouacked without cohesion.’87

  A battered British army became visible at sunrise the next day, out of ammunition with no stomach left for battle. And then Tej Singh arrived with his army, the troops fresh and eager for combat. Lord Hardinge had already started to prepare for the impending defat; he had sent his son, who served as his private secretary, back to the British camp with a precious ceremonial sword he had been awarded after the Napoleonic wars with instructions to destroy his private papers. Robert Cust recorded that the British generals had decided to lay down their arms and make an unconditional surrender in order to save their wounded.88 A cheer went up among the entrenched Sikh soldiers as they prepared for the coup de grace to be delivered by Tej Singh and his men.

  Tej Singh’s guns fired and drew no response from the British as they had no shot left. And then one of the most bizarre things recorded in military history happened. The Sikh guns fell silent and Tej Singh ordered his men to retreat! The entrenched Sikh troops were baffled and were completely overrun by the cavalry charge that Gough immediately ordered. The Sikh soldiers fled their entrenchment abandoning all their guns, their stores and thousands of kilos of gunpowder.

  While the Sikh soldiers were astonished by Tej Singh’s actions, the British generals were not. It is well-known now that the Sikh army was sold out by Tej Singh and Lal Singh, their treacherous commanders who had been motivated purely by self-interest. The first thing that Lal Singh had done after crossing the Sutlej was to write to Captain Nicholson, a British officer stationed at Firozpur, asking for instructions! Nicholson’s response: ‘Do not attack Firozpur; halt for as many days as you can and then march towards the Governor General.’ Which is exactly what Lal Singh did by taking his troops to Mudki and then abandoning them!

  Khushwant Singh writes that even Rani Jindan was aware of Lal Singh’s treacherous intent and quotes an entry in Nichsolson’s diary, dated 12 December, 1845, in which he records that Lal Singh had written to the British to consider him and Rani Jindan their friends and cut up the ruffians of the Sikh army for them!

  The debacle at Ferozeshahr broke the morale of many of the Sikh chiefs and some of them started secret negotiations with the British. Raja Gulab Singh Dogra, always the opportunist, sent his agent to Ludhiana to formalise an alliance with the British. To encourage further desertions, Lord Hardinge issued a proclamation inviting the Sikh chiefs to desert the court and ally themselves with the British, threatening to confiscate their personal estates if they did not comply. Tej Singh paid a clandestine visit to the British camp after the battle for an interview with Lord Hardinge. There is no record of the meeting or what was discussed; what is known is that he was made the Raja of Sialkot by the British after they had annexed Punjab and allowed to retain the rights and privileges that he enjoyed in the Lahore court.

  Two more battles followed in the month of January 1846. The British intended to press on to Lahore but Lord Gough decided to wait for reinforcements. The Sikh commanders, Ranjodh Singh Majithia and Ajit Singh Ladwa crossed the Sutlej with a force of 8000 and rapidly captured many forts. The Sikhs even managed to creep into the British cantonment at Ludhiana and torch the barracks. Sir Harry Smith, who was sent to relieve Ludhiana, was defeated by the Sikhs at the battle of Buddowal. A few days later, he received reinforcements and handed a defeat to the Sikh forces at Aliwal, causing them to lose fifty-six guns. Both Harry Smith and Humbly, a British cavalry officer who was present during the battles, wrote about the gallantry of their Sikh foes in their memoirs.

  The final battle of the first Anglo-Sikh War was fought on 10 February, 1846. Lal Singh and Tej Singh split up their forces, ostensibly to thwart the inevitable British advance towards Lahore. The larger part of the force, under Tej Singh’s command was placed in a horseshoe formed by the Sutlej River, near the village of Sabraon. The Sikh army was entrenched on the British side of the Sutlej, connected to their base camp on the other side by a rickety pontoon bridge. Secure in the knowledge that the Sikh commanders Tej Singh and Lal Singh were secretly aiding them, Lord Gough and Lord Hardinge decided on a full frontal assault on Sabraon to destroy the Sikh army once and for all. The British officer Henry Lawrence had been appointed Hardinge’s political assistant following the death of Major Broadfoot. Lawrence’s private papers record that he reached out to Lal Singh and got enough information to create a rough sketch of the Sikh defences at Sabraon, which he sent to Lord Gough and Lord Hardinge.89

  It had been raining for two days and the Sutlej had risen. On the morning of 10 February, the Sikh army found itself surrounded. Behind them and around them was the Sutlej in spate and facing them was a resupplied British army, swollen with reinforcements. The British cavalry charged from three sides. Tej Singh promptly fled across the pontoon bridge and had it destroyed, effectively trapping his army between the swollen river and the British.

  Other Sikh Sardars, however, rallied their troops and fought valiantly. Most notable among them was Sham Singh Attariwala, the son of one of Ranjit Singh’s most celebrated generals, Nihal Singh Attariwala.

  J.D. Cunningham was present at the Battle of Sabraon, serving as additional aide-de-camp to Lord Hardinge. In his account of the battle after the flight of the treacherous Tej Singh, Cunningham writes, ‘Sham Singh remembered his vow; he clothed himself in simple white attire as one devoted to death, and calling on all around him to fight for the Guru, repeatedly rallied his shattered ranks and at last fell a martyr on a heap of his slain countrymen.’90

  When it was over, the Sikhs had lost 10,000 men and all their guns. It was a crushing defeat.

  On 2 April, 1846, British Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel addressed the House of
Commons, thanking the British army in India for the victories at Aliwal and Sabraon. During his speech he read the following excerpt from a letter written to him by Lord Gough, which he said, was ‘never intended to meet the public eye’:

  Policy precluded me from publicly recording my sentiments on the splendid gallantry of our fallen foe, or to record the acts of heroism displayed by the Sikh Sardars and army; I declare that were it not from a deep conviction that my country required the sacrifice, I could have wept to have witnessed the fearful slaughter of so devoted a body of men.91

  Perhaps it was unclear at the time, but Lord Gough had written the epitaph of the glorious empire of Maharaja Ranjit Singh.

  A very British need to insist that the Sikhs had been beaten fair and square resulted in repeated and vociferous denials of Lal Singh and Tej Singh’s treachery. Their role in the defeat of the Sikhs in the First Anglo-Sikh War is well understood now and was not a secret even then.

  A popular doggerel of the time captured the disdain that the Sikhs had for their treacherous leaders:

  Laloo dee lalli gayi, Teju da gaya tej

  Ran vichh pith dikhai kay, modha aaye feyr

  (Laloo lost the blush of shame, lost his glory Tej

  Unashamed they showed their backs, and fled the battle-stage)