The Fall of the Kingdom of Punjab

by Khushwant Singh

  In the early hours of the morning of 8th October 1839, there took place the first of a series of murders that were to become a regular feature of the Lahore Durbar. The American, Colonel Gardner (known to the Punjabis as ‘Gardauna’) who was a Commandant in the Artillery of Raja Dhyan Singh and who accompanied the Dogra on his murderous mission, gives a graphic account of the incident.

  According to Gardner, Chet Singh Bajwa had succeeded in winning over General Ventura to his side and had thereupon become openly hostile to the Dogras. The evening preceding the murder he had been rash enough to threaten Dhyan Singh in the Durbar with the words: ‘See what will become of you in twenty-four hours.’

  Dhyan Singh Dogra had not been inactive. He had been assiduously circulating rumours that Chet Singh had sold the Punjab to the British and had promised to give them six annas of every rupee of the revenue of the State. He had also won over Kharak Singh’s wife, Chand Kaur, Prince Nao Nihal Singh, the Sandhawalias and most of the Punjabi officers, including the palace guard to his side before he made his move. On the evening of the 7th of October, the guards at the palace were secretly instructed that ‘whatever occurred, whatever thunders there might be at the gates, every one was to feign sleep.’ Next morning at three o’clock while the city slept and all was still, save the cries of the chowkidars, ‘Khabardar ho’, a party of about fifteen men entered the palace.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked a voice.

  Dhyan Singh Dogra replied: ‘The Maharajah goes tomorrow to bathe at Amristsar, and we are to make the necessary preparations.’

  As the party came to the zenana apartments where the Maharajah was known to sleep, mysterious hands opened the doors one after another to let the party through. Only at the inner gate did Dhyan Singh have to whisper instructions and even that opened as noiselessly as the others. The party stealthily made its way up a dark flight of stairs, over a place called the Badsha-i-Takht, and thence to the royal apartment. The Dogra brothers, Gulab Singh and Dhyan Singh, held a whispered consultation. At that moment a man started up from his sleep, called out and ran for help. Suchet Singh Dogra fired and knocked him down. Gulab Singh spoke angrily, and told off Suchet Singh for his stupidity. There was a commotion and the guards began to run about. Dhyan Singh Dogra rushed out to pacify them. He met the Subedar in command who asked: ‘Why did you fire?’ Dhyan Singh simply showed his right hand (on which he had two thumbs) and ordered the officer to remain silent. The Subedar pointed to the Royal bed-chamber and the guards quietly returned to their barracks.

  The door of the Maharajah’s bedroom, the Khwabgah or Dreamland, also opened without any command. The whole party entered. The room was dimly lit. The Maharajah was sitting up in his bed; a gadwai (water-man) was pouring out water for him to rinse his mouth: he was getting ready to say his morning prayers. The bed alongside on which Chet Singh Bajwa was known to sleep was empty. But the state of the bed-sheets and pillows showed clearly that it had been occupied a very short time before.

  ‘Where is your boon companion?’ asked some one in the party. The Maharajah replied truthfully that he had fled on hearing a shot fired. Where, he did not know. He also begged that Chet Singh’s life might be spared. He tried to get up to plead with the intruders and prevent them from going further into the zenana. He was rudely pushed back to his bed and four men mounted guard to keep him there while others searched the adjoining rooms and passages. Torches were lit and the party broke up into two groups. It seemed that Bajwa had really got away. The party were about to give up the search when one of the men caught the gleam of a shining object at the end of a long, narrow passage. They turned back and caught Chet Singh in a corner with an unsheathed sword clutched in his shaking hands. He was too terrified to wield the weapon whose glitter had betrayed him. He was dragged out and taken into the presence of his Royal patron. The Maharajah begged his son, Nao Nihal Singh, his kinsmen, the Sandhawalias, and the Dogras to forgive Chet Singh. The Maharahah’s hands were pinned behind him where he sat.

  ‘The eyes of Dhyan Singh seemed to shoot fire as his gaze alighted and fixed itself on his deadly foe,’ writes Col. Gardner. Gulab Singh stepped in front to dispatch Bajwa with his own hands, but Dhyan Singh roughly shook him off, and dagger in hand, slowly advanced towards his enemy. ‘The twenty-four hours you were courteous enough to mention to me have not yet elapsed,’ he said grinding his teeth. Then with the spring of a tiger the successful counter-plotter dashed at his enemy and plunged his dagger into Chet Singh’s heart, crying out, ‘Take this in memory of Ranjit Singh.’

  Chapter 2

  Death beneath the Gateway

  The manner in which Chet Singh Bajwa was murdered left no doubt in Maharajah Kharak Singh’s mind that if he did not retire from active life, his end might also be a violent one. In any case the shock of seeing his boon companion disembowelled in his presence was too great for him.

  The Punjab Akhbar of the morning after the murder records Maharajah Kharak Singh as observing ‘that he has nothing to do with the State and its rule, they are all gone with Chet Singh, and that he will be content with his former jagir, leaving everything else to Raja Dhyan Singh and Koonwar Nao Nihal Singh.’

  The murder of Bajwa was followed by the attachment of his property, the arrest of his brother and the persecution of dignitaries who had been friendly with Chet Singh, notably Misr Beli Ram, the Chief Accountant of the Durbar and custodian of the Koh-i-noor diamond, and his brothers, Rup Lal, Kardar of Jullundur, and Megh Raj who was in charge of the State treasury at Gobindgarh. For a time, even General Ventura and Prince Sher Singh were under a cloud because they had refused to join the conspiracy to remove Chet Singh.

  Fakir Azizuddin, who had been sent on a secret mission to Simla, was instructed to inform the British of the facts leading to the assassination of Chet Singh and the imprisonment of Beli Ram and his relations.

  Maharajah Kharak Singh moved out to his house in the city. Prince Nao Nihal Singh occupied the palace in the fort and became Maharajah of the Punjab in all but name. He was then only eighteen years old.

  Nao Nihal Singh was made in a different mould from his father. He did not desire the pomp and paraphernalia of a Maharajah’s life and let all the ceremonial functions remain the prerogative of his father towards whom he behaved with courtesy and rectitude. But he made it known to the ministers, governors of provinces and generals, who had got used to being left to themselves by the ailing Ranjit Singh and the lackadaisical Kharak Singh, that he meant to govern the Punjab personally and effectively. They began to chafe under the Prince’s iron rule. On the North-West Frontier, the Pathans took advantage of the unsettled state of affairs at Lahore and revolted. Dhyan Singh Dogra moaned that it would have been better for him if he had perished on Ranjit Singh’s funeral pyre. Gulab Singh Dogra betook himself on an extended pilgrimage to the sacred cities of Hindustan. Ventura sulked and threatened to resign.

  Nao Nihal Singh took these and other matters in his stride. He vigorously suppressed the Pathan tribes. He summoned the Governors of Kashmir and Multan to his presence and reprimanded them for being tardy in paying in the revenues. He ordered Gulab Singh to return home and sent Ventura to the hills. Prince Kashmira Singh was forced to renounce his pretensions to the throne. Bikram Singh Bedi of Una, who enjoyed the prestige of being a descendant of Guru Nanak and had misused his position by taking the law in his own hands, was heavily mulcted. Public works were taken in hand. Trees were planted alongside the road between Lahore and Amritsar and gardens laid out in the suburbs of the two cities. Dhyan Singh came round of his own accord and accepted, however reluctantly, to be one of the Council of Seven Ministers, which included besides him, Fakir Azizuddin, Jemadar Khushal Singh, Bhaia Ram Singh, Ajit Singh Sandhawalia and Lehna Singh Majithia. Within a couple of months the Punjab felt that the spirit of Ranjit Singh had been resurrected in the person of his grandson, Prince Nao Nihal Singh.

  The British were unwilling to recognise the de facto change in the Government of the Punjab
, but their reluctance was overcome by the fact that they wanted permission for their troops in Afghanistan to be allowed to come back through the Punjab. The Durbar was strongly opposed to conceding this request but Nao Nihal Singh overruled his Councillors and thus gained the support of his powerful neighbours. The only conditions made were that the British would not again ask for similar facilities and their troops would avoid passing near the capital. On his way back, the Commander of the British troops, Lord Keane, called on Nao Nihal Siugh at Lahore to thank him for the cooperation the Punjab had given in the Afghan campaign. He was tactfully asked to convey to his Government that Colonel Wade’s continued support of Maharajah Kharak Singh was not looked upon with favour by the Council of Ministers. A few weeks later when Colonel Wade himself passed through Lahore on his way back to India, he was not allowed to call on the Maharajah. The British Government’s reluctant acquiescence with Nao Nihal Singh’s wishes made the Prince sceptical of their professions of good will. Suspicion developed on either side and letters said to have been written by Nao Nihal Singh to Dost Mohammed proposing a joint war against the British, found their way to Calcutta. Nao Nihal Singh disclaimed them as deliberate forgeries. He realised the wisdom of not putting all his eggs in the British basket. The Punjabi newswriter reported from Ferozepur that ‘Captain Lawrence was engaged night and day in strengthening the fort and that guns were being provided for it.’ The Sardars advised that it would be provident to construct a fort at Kasur. And despite British objections, Nao Nihal allowed the Gurkha General Matabar Singh, who was known to be anti-British, to continue residing in Lahore. The Governor-General realised that he could not bully the Durbar and in April 1840 replaced Col. Wade by Mr. Clerk who was more acceptable to the Durbar. Nao Nihal Singh could now turn his attention to other things. The most important was to reduce the Dogra brothers to their proper size.

  Early in May 1840, Zorawar Singh sent a report from Iskardu that in consequence of the disaffection of the people of that country with their ruler, Ahmed Shah, he had helped the son, Mohammed Shah, to replace his father and was firmly established there. Nao Nihal Singh did not want Zorawar Singh to become a kingmaker in Little Tibet and issued orders for the reinstatement of Ahmed Shah, on condition that he sent tribute to Lahore. Zorawar Singh turned to his immediate overlord, Gulab Singh Dogra, and the two devised ways of circumventing the Prince’s orders without openly flaunting them.

  The Prince realised that the Dogras had become inconveniently powerful. They had the monopoly over the salt mines, which they exploited to great advantage. The Prince expressed a desire to take over the mines so that salt could be sold cheaply all over the Punjab. Before Nao Nihal could take the salt monopoly out of their hands, the Dogras invited their neighbour in the hills, Balbir Sen of Mandi, to revolt against the Durbar. Nao Nihal Singh ordered Ajit Singh Sandhawalia and Ventura—both hostile to the Dogras—to bring the hill Rajputs to obedience. Durbar troops defeated the forces of the hill chiefs, occupied many forts, and brought Balbir Sen as prisoner to Amritsar where he was lodged in Gobindgarh fort. Ventura established a chain of police posts in the hills. Under instructions from Nao Nihal Singh, he abolished the arbitrary taxes levied by the petty Rajas and prohibited the sale of women and children a practice common amongst the poorer sections of the hill people. Ventura’s campaign also subdued the Dogras for a while.

  During the summer of 1840 the cannons of the fort of Lahore were kept busy firing salvos in honour of victories gamed by Punjabi armies. The people felt that the old days of glory had returned.

  The success of the summer was like a lambent flame about to die. The rot as usual began at the top and spread to the entire body politic. Maharajah Kharak Singh, who had been reduced to utter idleness, began to drink harder and consume large quantities of opium till he was reduced to imbecility. Nao Nihal also began to drink more than usual. It was said that the success against Mandi had turned his head. He allowed himself to be surrounded by astrologers, soothsayers and charlatans of that ilk who forecast that he would extend the empire from Kabul to the banks of the Ganges. The Prince let these dreams of grandeur fill his mind.

  Opium and alcohol claimed Kharak Singh, who died in the early hours of the morning of 5th November 1840. The guns of the fort began to fire salvos in homage to the departed monarch. Prince Nao Nihal Singh, who was then in his hunting lodge at Shah Bilawal, a couple of miles outside the city, heard the tell-tale boom of cannon. A few minutes later, a dispatch-rider arrrived and confirmed the Prince’s fears. Nao Nihal Singh was stung with remorse at the thought that he had not done his duty as a son. He repaired immediately to his father’s haveli. The consciousness of guilt continued to haunt the Prince. The diarist Sohan Lal records three eerie incidents that happened to Nihal Singh. As he was coming down the steps of his father’s haveli, he felt a pair of invisible hands grab him by the shoulders. When he turned back to look, there was no one behind him. The second experience was later in the morning when he was walking behind his father’s cortege. As the funeral procession passed through Taksali Gate, the Prince felt a heavy blow on his head and collapsed. No one could see the assailant (nor even believed there was one) till the Prince came to and complained that he had felt as if somebody had hit him with a stick. The procession started once again and got safely to the site near Hazuri Bagh near the mausoleum of Ranjit Singh.

  Kharak Singh’s body was laid on a pile of sandalwood. Two of his widows and eleven maid-servants mounted the pyre. The widows made Nao Nihal Singh and Dhyan Singh Dogra put their hands on the dead Maharajah’s chest and swear by all that they held most sacred to serve the State loyally and faithfully. They put the saffron mark on the foreheads of the new Maharajah and the Chief Minister. The last prayer was said and amidst the chanting of Vedic Mantras, Nao Nihal Singh lit the funeral pyre.

  After the cremation, the Maharajah went to the Ravi: a branch of the river ran close by the ramparts of the fort. While he was taking the ceremonial post-funeral bath, a mulberry tree which stood near the bank suddenly came down with a thunder-clap. It was an old and withered tree which had been unable to stand the strain of having dozens of people climbing on it to see the funeral. But Nao Nihal Singh was very perturbed because he heard the wail of human voices come out of the tree as it fell. The Maharajah’s nerves were highly wrought. On his way back he took the hand of Udham Singh, the son of Gulab Singh Dogra. Other courtiers followed behind them. Then the fourth and final incident took place. This one, however, was no fanciful chimera of the Prince’s tortured mind.

  The party passed by Kharak Singh’s funeral pyre, now blazing fiercely, and came to the Roshnai Durwaza—the Gate of Splendour. Just as Nao Nihal Singh was passing underneath, the arch of the gate gave way and slabs of stone and masonry crashed down on his head. Sohan Lal Suri, the official chronicler of the Lahore Durbar, narrates the incident in some detail: ‘After this the Kanwar came near the gate. Suddenly, somebody from the unknown flung the whole of the roof along with bricks and limestone, like an arrow of death, on the top of the Kanwar’s head, and as divinely ordained, the brain was at once crushed to pieces. Thick blood gushed out and the blessed body was buried under the debris of bricks and limestone. Mian Udham Singh gave up his life to its Giver and the other companions, viz. the Raja Kalan (Dhyan Singh Dogra), the Bhais, Dewan Dina Nath and other such dignitaries, received injuries on their heads, shoulders and backs from the masonry. Government officials extricated the Blessed Body from the heap and were much pained and grieved to see the Kanwar’s condition. The mirror of sense was shattered to pieces by the stone of mishap.’

  Nao Nihal Singh was brought to Ranjit Singh’s mausoleum where Bhai Gobind Ram and his brother Ram Singh, who had only received superficial injuries, examined the Maharajah’s pulse. It was obvious that life was fast ebbing out. Raja Dhyan Singh Dogra, being the Chief Minister, took command of the situation. He ordered the Prince to be carried to the palace in a palanquin and had the gates of the fort shut against every one else—ev
en members of the Royal family. But first he sent for the Royal physician, the Hungarian Dr. Martin Honigberger.

  Dr. Honigberger arrived within a few mintues. He later made a record of this visit to the Hazuri Bagh: ‘The Prince was on his bed, his head most awfully crushed and his state was such that no hope of recovery existed. With that conviction I left the tent, and whispered to the minister, in so low a tone that no one else could hear it, “Medical art can do nothing to relieve the unfortunate prince”; upon which the minister requested me to wait there while he re-entered the tent, and, after a short stay therein, he came out, addressing me loud enough to be heard by all the assembly, who listened attentively, asking “whether they might give some soup to the Koonwar Saheb,” (Royal-Prince), he wishing to have some. Whereupon I answered, “Of course; he is in need only of parsley”; a proverb applied to those dangerously ill, and not expected to live. The minister’s intention in questioning me thus, was to conceal at that moment the approaching death of the prince in order to have time to make the necessary preparations, so that the peace and tranquillity of the country might not be disturbed, in which he succeeded so that the death of the Prince remained a secret for three days. This interval he took advantage of to recall Sher Singh, and place him upon the throne.’

  At that time no one had any doubt that the fall of the arch had been an accident. The steps taken by Dhyan Singh to keep Nao Nihal Singh’s death a secret were however misconstrued by mischief-makers. Honigberger heard of the stories that had got round and wrote; ‘It would have been proper at the time to have made enquiries whether the falling of the wall by which Nao Nihal Singh and Oottum Singh had been crushed, was accidental, or a premeditated machination of wicked conspirators; but none thought it worth their while to make the enquiry . . .’