The Fall of the Kingdom of Punjab

by Khushwant Singh

  Who ordered the murder of the unfortunate widow? Local gossip named Maharajah Sher Singh, Dhyan Singh Dogra, as well as his elder brother, Gulab Singh. Diarist Sohan Lal accuses Sher Singh and Dhyan Singh and states that Mohan Singh, Thanedar of Lahore, had hired four women (Hiro the bald, Aso, Bhari the cobbler’s wife, and Hasso of Fatehgarh) to commit the foul deed and that the murder had been kept a secret for three days. According to Sohan Lal, the hirelings had only their hands, noses and ears chopped off and while they were being led out of the city, they sobbed out their story to the crowds.

  Sohan Lal’s version is not supported by newswriters of the different states in the Durbar; nor does the relationship the Mai had with Sher Singh and Dhyan Singh warrant that conclusion. Sohan Lal is unduly harsh on Sher Singh—whom he also accuses of arranging the abortion of Nao Nihal Singh’s widow. If one can draw an inference from motives, the only person who could have been worried by the Mai’s impending marriage to Sher Singh was Gulab Singh Dogra. He had robbed the palace of its treasure on the pretext of keeping it in safe custody for Chand Kaur. He had also been appointed by her to manage her estates at Kudi Kudiali which adjoined his territories. With one grindstone, Gulab Singh Dogra not only silenced the voice which could have told the sordid truth but also became master of all that he had taken from the fort and of Kudi Kudiali.

  Chapter 4

  The Dilettante Prince

  Prince Sher Singh had always been popular with the army and the common people. He was handsome and courteous. He was a bit of a dilettante and dressed with meticulous care. He used expensive perfumes and applied pomades to curl his moustache and set his beard—which he parted in the middle and tucked upwards towards his ears. He liked good food and French wines. He was fond of women and women were fond of him. He admired the English and the English preferred him to any of the other claimants—except the Sandhawalias, who were eager to have the British extend their conquest over the Punjab. But the Sandhawalias were not princes of royal blood and if there was one thing the Punjabis were not willing to forgive, it was a suggestion that their State become a British protectorate.

  On 27th January 1841, ten days after his triumphal entry into Lahore, Sher Singh was crowned Maharajah of the Punjab. His son Pertap Singh was proclaimed heir-apparent and Dhyan Singh Dogra became, once again, the Chief Minister.

  Despite his universal popularity, Sher Singh’s rule began badly. The army had helped him to power on his undertaking to clear the arrears and to increase the pay of the soldiers. When Sher Singh occupied the fort, he discovered the treasury was completely empty; Gulab Singh Dogra had cleaned out everything there was. The soldiers refused to be put off by further promises and proceeded to help themselves or turn against the officers whom they suspected of having made money.

  Four days after their entry into the fort, Sher Singh and Dhyan Singh invited the soldiers to the Summum Burj (octagonal tower where the durbar was often held)—two men each from every company, troop and gun—to consult with them. The men agreed to do so on condition that no officers should be present. This was conceded and at the first meeting the Maharajah and the minister received only the elected Panches. The Panches complained of the dishonesty of regimental munshies (accountants) and officers in disbursing wages. The Maharajah agreed to replace those specifically named. But he refused to transfer officers the Panches did not like. The meeting became stormy. The weak-willed Sher Singh threw up his hands with the remark, ‘Kacha Pakka Sambhalo’ (literally, ‘raw or ripe it’s all yours), which gave the Panches to understand that they were free to settle things for themselves. They began to plunder the shopkeepers. ‘For six to eight weeks’, writes Sohan Lal, the city of Lahore was turned into a veritable hell.’ The troops went berserk and began to murder regimental accountants and officers—the chief target being the Europeans, most, if not all, of whom were in communication with the British Agent in Ludhiana. Two Europeans, Col. Foulkes and Major Ford were shot dead by their troops. Ventura’s house had to be guarded by three regiments loyal to Sher Singh. Court, who had hidden himself in Ventura’s house, barely escaped with his life and fled across the Sutlej. Avitabile had to leave Peshawar and seek the protection of the Afghans at Jalalabad. The wrath of the soliders did not spare the Punjabi officers. In Kashmir, the Governor, Col. Meehan Singh, and in Amritsar, the Garrison Commander, Sobha Singh, were murdered. At Lahore, Jemadar Khushal Singh, his nephew Tej Singh and Lehna Singh Majithia, all of whom were suspected of having British sympathies, had to barricade themselves in their houses.

  Sher Singh’s difficulties gave Mr. Clerk, the British Agent at Ludhiana, the opportunity to meddle in the affairs of the Durbar. He sent word to Sher Singh that the British Government would like him to be gentle with Mai Chand Kaur (a suggestion he forestalled by having proposed marriage to her) and to make peace with the Sandhawalias. Clerk gave his suggestion an element of blackmail by allowing Ajit Singh Sandhawalia to take up residence close to the Punjab frontier.

  Unrest in the Punjab continued unabated. It came to such a pass that the British Agent planned to march to Lahore with an army of 12,000 men. He proposed annexing the Durbar’s cis-Sutlej possessions and taking a sum of Rs. 40 lakhs as the price of restoring order. When the news of this proposal leaked out (or was deliberately let out) there was an outburst of anti-British feeling in the Punjab and men like Lehna Singh Majithia, who was known to be friendly to the British, had to quit the State. Maharajah Sher Singh vehemently denied that he had any knowledge of Clerk’s proposals. But he was unable to quell the disturbances. With the army in open mutiny, the best Sher Singh could do was to plead with the men to be reasonable. He undertook to redeem his promise of an increase of Re 1 a month in pay and another month’s pay as reward. The troops insisted on the clearance of nine months’ arrears of wages plus rewards and made a not too veiled threat that if their demands were not conceded, they would depose Sher Singh as they had deposed the Mai. Instead of facing the mutineers resolutely Sher Singh sought escape in the cup and in the company of courtesans. What the Punjab had prayed for was a dictator; what it got was a handsome and well-meaning dandy who knew more about vintage wines and the ways of women than he did of statecraft.

  Ajit Singh Sandhawalia was informed of Sher Singh’s discomfiture and made attempts to get the British to intervene. Sher Singh counteracted this move by opening negotiations with the British. The sordid drama of intrigue and dealing with foreign elements destroyed the confidence that the people had reposed in the Royal family. A few days after Clerk had made his proposals to enter the Punjab with an army, the people had another opportunity to see how far the Maharajah and the nobility were willing to go to appease foreigners. The British had requested transit facilities for the harems of Shah Shuja and Shah Zaman across the Punjab to Afghanistan. The permit was readily granted and the royal seraglios of several hundred women, eunuchs and bodyguard under the command of Major Broadfoot proceeded on their northern journey. The Durbar supplied an escort of Mussulman troops to go with the cavalcade. The attitude of Major Broadfoot was aggressive from the very start and on more than one occasion he ordered his escort to open fire on Punjabi troops who happened to come near his party. There was no retaliation by the Durbar—not even when Broadfoot crossed the Indus and called on the Pathan tribesmen to revolt against Punjabi domination. Even General Ventura, who had the confidence of the British was ashamed of Broadfoot’s behaviour. Capt. J. D. Cunningham, the celebrated author of the History of the Sikhs, who had personal cognisance of the facts, wrote: ‘It did not appear that his (Broadfoot’s) apprehension had even a plausible foundation . . . The whole proceeding merely served to irritate and excite the distrust of the Sikhs generally, and to give Sher Singh an opportunity of pointing out to his mutineer soldiers that the Punjab was surrounded by English armies both ready and willing to make war upon them.’

  Had the English decided to make war upon the Punjab? It would appear that even if there was no concrete plan to lauch an invasion (probably
because the Durbar was collaborating with them in the Afghan campaign) annexation of the Punjab in the near future was being openly talked of in British circles. In a personal letter on 26th May 1841, Mrs. Henry Lawrence, wife of the chief British expert on the Punjab and the man destined to be the first Resident, wrote: ‘Wars, rumours of war, are on every side and there seems no doubt that the next cold weather will decide the long suspended question of occupying the Punjab. Henry, both in his civil and military capacity, will probably be called on to take part in whatever goes on.’

  The Broadfoot episode, coming at the end of several months of rumours of betrayal of national interests by the courtiers, noblemen and officers, finally decided the men of the Punjab army that they should make their own voice heard in matters of State. The only institution they were familiar with was the Panchayat—the Council of elders which regulated the affairs of the villages from which they came. This institution took an increasingly central place in the affairs of the army and the Panches would first deliberate on the orders of the commanding officer and then come back to the men with their recommendations. The results were disastrous. The army lost its discipline as well as direction by officers who had greater experience of military affairs than the elected Panches. And soon after, the chief function of the Panches became the demanding of higher wages and rewards for their men.

  The one point on which the Durbar, the officers and the men were agreed was that nothing was worse than keeping the army inactive. General Zorawar Singh had already glimpsed the plateaus beyond the Himalayas. He was encouraged to go ahead by his immediate overlord, Gulab Singh Dogra who, after the murder of Colonel Meehan Singh, the Governor of Kashmir, had acquired possession of the Valley of the Jhelum. Equipped with the Durbar’s troops and forces of the hill chieftains, Zorawar Singh began the second phase of the Punjab’s conquest of Tibetan provinces.

  There were economic reasons for choosing to extend the frontiers of the Punjab beyond the Himalayas. In the past, Tibetan caravans had passed through the vale of Kashmir on their way to India. Since the British had extended their frontier to the Sutlej, a new route had been opened through the State of Bushair. The worst sufferers were Kashmiri shawl-makers, who got much of their raw wool from Ladakh and Lhasa. The Kashmiri wool industry was facing a crisis and unless Tibetan shepherds were persuaded or compelled to bring their wares to Kashmir markets, there was danger of the industry dying out. By pushing the frontier further up to the source of the Indus and the Sutlej, the Punjab could also exploit the mineral resources in the province of Garo. The Rothak district of Garo was reputed to be rich in gold, borax, sulphur and rock-salt and had a thriving market supplying many parts of Central Asia. There were complementary political reasons alongside the compelling economic ones. By striking out north and then eastwards, the Punjab would ensure itself against the possibility of British encirclement by having a common frontier with the only other independent state of India, Nepal. The venture had the enthusiastic support of Gulab Singh Dogra because he knew that an extension of the Punjab in that direction would inevitably mean the extension of his domains.

  A wedge had already been driven into Tibet in 1834 when Zorawar Singh had taken Ladakh. Ranjit Singh had forbidden him to go any further for fear of incurring the wrath of the Chinese Emperor. Since the occupation of Ladakh had not aroused the Chinese overlords, Prince Nao Nihal Singh had allowed Zorawar Singh to drive the wedge a little farther. Iskardu, at the junction of two tributaries of the Indus, was taken from Ahmed Shah. Another approach route to these mountainous regions had been opened up by the occupation of Mandi and Kulu. Sher Singh decided to press these points further: one northwards and the other eastwards towards the Nepalese frontier.

  It was not hard to find an excuse for aggression. In April 1841, Zorawar Singh demanded Garo’s adhesion to the Punjab as Garo was a dependency of Iskardu and Iskardu was now a province of the Punjab. He also desired that in view of the changed circumstances Lhasa should pay tribute to Lahore rather than to Peking. The Governor of Garo tried to appease Zorawar Singh with gifts of horses and mules. Zorawar Singh declined the gifts and proceeded to Garo itself. One column marched eastwards along the Kumaon Hills and cut off British contact with Lhasa. In June 1841, the Punjabis captured the town of Garo. Zorawar Singh thought it politic to send information of the fact to the Raja of Bushair, who was under British protection. From Garo, Zorawar Singh marched forward towards Tuklakote. A Tibetan force sent to oppose the Punjabi advance was virtually annihilated at Dogpoo Barmah on 29th August 1841, and ten days later, the Durbar’s flag was hoisted at Tuklakote. The Punjabis had, like the Indus itself, pierced the heart of Tibet to its very core. By the time they were able to consolidate their new conquests, the campaigning season was over; the chill winds presaged the coming of winter snow.

  This brilliant feat of arms alarmed the British more than the Chinese and they registered a protest with the Lahore Durbar. Sher Singh replied politely that Punjabi intentions had been misunderstood. ‘No,’ insisted Clerk emphatically in a note of 28th September 1841: ‘You yourself are the responsible party in any misunderstanding arising with the British Government out of proceedings of this nature towards Tibet or China or Nepal.’ Three weeks later the British Agent demanded that the Punjabis give up their conquests in the province of Lhasa and withdraw to Ladakh by 10th December 1841.

  While the verbal warfare was going on between Ludhiana and Lahore, the Chinese were mustering their armies for the defence of Lhasa. With the first fall of snow they encircled the Punjabi advance post, cut off its supply lines, and waited patiently to let the elements do the rest.

  Zorawar Singh and his men were reduced to desperate straits. They were marooned at a height of 12,000 feet in the midst of a vast sea of drifting snow and ice. They ran out of food and fuel and soldiers began to die of frost-bite. Zorawar Singh offered to withdraw, but the Chinese were unwilling to let a trapped bird slip out of their grasp. ‘You seized Ladakh and we remained silent. You became bold in consequence and took possession of Gartoke and Tuklakote. If you desire peace, give up Ladakh and go back to your own country’, was the Chinese reply.

  The Punjabis were compelled to try to fight their way out. Hunger and cold had sapped their vitality and they had to contend with an enemy who not only outnumbered them by ten to one but was also equipped for winter warfare. On 12th December 1841, fell the gallant Zorawar Singh. His second-in-command, Rai Singh, agreed to lay down arms on a solemn undertaking by the Chinese that the Punjabis would be allowed to retire unmolested. But as soon as their muskets were handed in, they were butchered in cold blood. The Punjabis at Tuklakote heard of the fate that had befallen their comrades and their brave general and decided to withdraw to their base. Before the spring thaw, the Chinese had reoccupied their Tibetan possessions and reinstated their satellites at Iskardu and Ladakh. Only at Leh the Punjab flag still fluttered defiantly in the Tibetan breeze.

  The news of the disaster in Tibet roused the Punjabis and Dogras to action. Since Gulab Singh was the chief most concerned, he rushed reinforcements towards Ladakh and also approached the British for help (most probably to allay their fears). The Governor-General, Lord Ellenborough, disapproved of the project as it might ‘have the result of bringing armies from beyond those mountains into India’.

  By the spring (1842), reinforcements had reached Leh. The Chinese forces retreated before the Punjabis and in May Ladakh was recaptured. The advance continued in the form of a pincer movement towards Garo. One Punjabi column reached the boundary of the district in August 1842 but was dissuaded from proceeding further by a British officer, Lt. Cunningham, who happened to be there. The other column encircled a Chinese force sent against it from Lhasa, flooded the enemy out of their entrenched positions and then decimated them. The Chinese Commander was taken prisoner.

  The Punjabis had more than made up for the defeat of the previous winter. They had also learnt that they could not hold these regions in the winter months and that the British o
bjection to their extension of Punjab power in Tibet was more than academic. On 17th October 1842, the envoys of the Durbar and Gulab Singh’s personal representative signed a treaty with the representatives of the Chinese Emperor at Lhasa. It was agreed that the boundaries of Ladakh and Lhasa would be considered inviolable by either party and that the trade, particularly of tea and pashmina wool, would, as in the past, pass through Ladakh.

  The British had every intention of following up their protests against the Punjab by action, but before they could plan their strategy, events in Afghanistan compelled them not only to overlook Punjabi aggressiveness but to beg for their assistance. In the autumn of 1841 while the Chinese were planning to evict the Punjabis from Tibet, the Afghans rose and destroyed the British army of occupation in their country. Amongst those who were murdered in cold blood was Sir Alexander Burnes, the chief architect of British expansionism in Sindh, the Punjab and Afghanistan. The attempt to put Shah Shuja on the throne of Kabul had been a joint Punjabi-British venture and consequently the disaster which overwhelmed British arms at Kabul could not be overlooked by the Punjab Government. Despite its difficulties in Tibet, the Durbar ordered General Avitabile, who was posted in Peshawar, to go to the relief of the British. The British were surprised at the Punjab’s willing cooperation, as their advisers, Wade, Clerk and Shahamat Ali, had told them that no faith should be put in the Punjabis’ professions of friendship.