The Fall of the Kingdom of Punjab

by Khushwant Singh

  The nation began to rise in arms.

  The British were prepared for the contingency. On the north-west, Nicholson occupied the fort of Attock. Capt. Hodson (the same notorious Hodson who later executed the three Mughal Princes in Delhi) went to Amritsar, got admission into Gobindgarh fort on a false plea and then overpowered the guards. In Lahore, the Resident arrested all the people he suspected of having sympathies with the revolt, including Ranjodh Singh Majithia. In the Jullundur Doab, John Lawrence put down anti-British demonstrations with an iron hand.

  At Kohat, Chattar Singh opened negotiations with Dost Mohammed Khan, Amir of Afghanistan, and his brother Sultan Mohammad. He undertook to give them Peshawar if the Afghans helped the Punjabis to expel the English. To be able to make good his promise, he evicted the British officers, including the Resident’s chief assistant George Lawrence, reoccupied Peshawar and wrested Attock from Nicholson. George Lawrence, who had taken asylum in Kohat, and Herbert, who had replaced Nicholson, were taken prisoners. The whole of Derajat was up in arms. Malik Fateh Khan Tiwana, who was the Resident’s nominee, and the Eurasian turn-coat, Colonel Holmes, were shot by Sikh troops. Similar risings took place in other districts between Lahore and the Frontier. The British Subaltern wrote in his diary: ‘Forces are daily joining the enemy: the whole of the Punjab is inimical to us and in case of the least reverse we should have them about our ears like a swarm out of an upset bee-hive.’

  Thus did a local rebellion become a national war of independence.

  There were two centres of revolt—one at Multan and the other on the North-West frontier. The British Commander-in-Chief, Lord Gough, suggested that the siege of Multan should be raised till reinforcements could come up from Bombay and priority be given to the campaign against the Attariwalas. Lord Dalhousie accepted the suggestion.

  Dalhousie had made up his mind to declare war and annex the Punjab. He was pleased with the course of events. ‘The insurrection in Hazara has made great headway . . . I should wish nothing better. I can see no escape from the necessity of annexing this infernal country. I have drawn the sword and this time thrown away the scabbard,’ he wrote.

  But who was Dalhousie going to war against? Maharajah Dalip Singh and the Council of Regency (except the Attariwalas) had not revolted. On the contrary, the rebellion of Mulraj, the Attariwalas and the soldiers was against the authority of the Durbar and its Sovereign-to be. If Dalhousie meant to suppress the rebellion, it was only logical and moral that he should uphold Dalip, the Council and the Durbar. But that was not Dalhousie’s intention. He had fomented and nurtured the rebellion so that he could have the excuse of annexing the Punjab and no legal niceties were going to bother him. On hearing of the proclamation made by the Attariwalas, Dallhousie expressed pleasure because it had ‘brought matters to the crisis I (Dalhousie) have for months been looking for and we are now not on the eve of but in the midst of war with the Sikh nation and kingdom of Punjab.’ In a public pronouncement at a banquet on 9th October, Dalhousie said, ‘unwarned by precedents, un-influenced by example, the Sikh nation has called for war and on my words, Sir, they shall have it with a vengeance.’ Before leaving Calcutta for the Punjab frontier, Dalhousie instructed his Secretary to inform the Resident at Lahore that he considered ‘the state of Lahore to be to all intents and purposes directly at war with the British Government’. The Resident persuaded the Governor-General that for reasons of expediency they should not declare war till all their troops were in position but keep up the pretence that the British had ‘entered Lahore territories not as enemy to the constituted government but to restore order and obedience’.

  Chapter 11

  The Fall of the Punjab

  Sher Singh Attariwala intended marching back to Lahore and liberating the capital. He came within two miles of the city, but the rising of the citizens which he had expected did not take place. The Resident had imposed a curfew and the streets were patrolled at all hours. The leading Sardars had been arrested. Lehna Singh Majithia had thrown in his lot with the enemy and was using all his influence in Majha, the homeland of the toughest of the Sikh peasantry, in favour of the British. The only chief who had the temerity to defy the British was Ram Singh of Nurpur; but his declaring for freedom was more symbolic than of material assistance to Sher Singh.

  Sher Singh got information that Lord Gough was bringing a large army with heavy guns across the Sutlej. He withdrew from Lahore to join forces with his father. The Attariwalas decided to hold the British on the Chenab—’the dark river’.

  The situation in the autumn of 1848 was somewhat as follows: The Chaj and the Sindh-Sagar Doabs had declared for freedom; the other Doabs were under the heel of British military power. In the north-west, people were flocking to the Punjab standard unfurled by Chattar Singh Attariwala; in the south, Mulraj was fighting a lone battle against odds that kept mounting against him day by day.

  Early in November 1848, Lord Gough crossed the Sutlej with an army composed of English and Hindustani mercenaries and marched on to Lahore. Young Dalip Singh, who had done everything he had been told to do by the Resident, waited on the British Commander to pay his respects. Gough refused to receive the Maharajah. On 16th November when the Resident himself took Dalip Singh to Mian Mir where the British force was cantoned, Gough did not get off his elephant to return Dalip’s greetings. It was a deliberate act of discourtesy to signify that the British now looked upon the Maharajah (who still under their protection) as an enemy.

  Gough advanced northwards to the Chenab and came in sight of the Attariwala’s forces on the other side of the river. Sher Singh, who had captured some forts on the eastern bank, sent detachments to harass the British. Minor skirmishes between the Punjabis and the British took place along the left bank of the Chenab. In the last week of November 1848, British forces under Brigadier-General Campbell marched towards the fort of Ram Nagar. The Punjabis forestalled the move to capture the fort. They crossed the Chenab on 22nd November and placed themselves between the British and Ram Nagar.

  General Campbell opened the attack and forced thn Punjabis back to the river. Punjabi artillery posted oe the opposite bank opened up. With the support of the artillery, more Punjabi cavalry crossed the Chenab and in a determined counter-attack routed Campbell’s force, captured one of his guns and the colours of a regiment.

  Ram Nagar was not an engagement of any great consequence but it gave a much needed booster to Punjabi morale. The British Subaltern wrote: ‘The enemy are in great feather, and ride along within half a mile of our camp and close to our pickets.’ Three senior British officers, Lt. Col. Havelock, Brig. Gen. Cureton and Captain Fitzgerald were killed at Ram Nagar. Sher Singh Attariwala sent a note to the British offering to stop hostilities if they promised to get out of Lahore. No notice was taken of this offer.

  A week after the Punjabi victory at Ram Nagar, General Gough arrived on the Chenab but instead of assaulting the fort as the Punjabis expected him to do, went further upstream to Wazirabad, bribed the local boatmen and crossed the river under the cover of darkness. While Sher Singh Attariwala went up to hold Gough’s advance down the western bank of the Chenab, the rest of the British force was able to cross the river over the fords which were left unguarded.

  On the afternoon of 3rd December, an artillery duel was fought in the sugar-cane fields around the village of Sadullapur. The cannonade from either side was fierce. The Subaltern described the thunder as: ‘A roar that shook the very earth and shot ran through the air with a noise like a mighty winged spirit till the atmosphere was stunned.’ British superiority in guns gave them the edge over the Punjabis. Sadullapur was also not an engagement of any military consequence but was exaggerated by the British Commander as a great victory to offset the reverse suffered at Ram Nagar. They even had it noised about that Sher Singh had been killed in the engagement. Attariwala was very much alive. He retreated from the Chenab to the Jhelum. The British pursued him across the Chaj Doab.

  The Punjabis took up their po
sition in the village of Rasul, which was surrounded by an expanse of thick brushwood intersected by deep ravines. The Jhelum was behind them. The enemy came up and took his position at the village of Dinghy about three miles southeast of the Punjabi entrenchments. For some time the two armies jockeyed for position. The Punjabis began to run short of provisions and tried to draw out the enemy from Dinghy. On 13th December, Sher Singh made a feint attack on the British positions but the British refused to budge. Next day came news of the liberation of Attock. Chattar Singh sent troops he could spare to his son and promised to join him with the rest of the army.

  The British received even a greater fillip with the news of the fall of Multan. On 30th December, a British cannon-ball fell on the magazine in the fort blowing up 4,00,000 lbs of gunpowder and killing over five hundred of its defenders. The odds turned heavily against Mulraj particularly as the British received more reinforcements and siege-guns from Bombay. On 22nd January, Mulraj was compelled to lay down arms.

  Victory at Chillianwala, 13th January 1849

  Lord Gough decided to attack at once. His forces had been augmented by detachments of Dogras under Col. Steinbach (one-time servant of Ranjit Singh) and Rohillas who had deserted the Punjabi camp. His plan was to avoid the jungles and ravines by going a few miles downstream and then attacking the Punjabi flank. Sher Singh forestalled this move and took up formation at the village of Lulliani—with the jungles and ravines still separating him and the enemy.

  At noon on 13th January 1848, the Punjabis sighted the British advancing towards them from the direction of the village of Chillianwala. General Elahi Bakhsh’s artillery brought the enemy advance to a standstill. For one hour Punjabi guns kept the British at a distance. When their fire slackened, the British, who had the advantage of numbers, charged in an attempt to force the Punjabis into the river. The assault was led by Brigadier Pennycuick. The Khalsa found the conditions to their liking. They scattered into the brushwood jungle and began their harrying dhai-phut (hit and run) tactics. Their snipers took heavy toll of British infantry and cavalry. Those that got through the brushwood and ravines were easily repulsed in the hand-to-hand fight with the main line of the Punjabi troops. Pennycuick, his son and hundreds of the enemy were killed in the most savage fighting between the Punjabis and the British. The British Subaltern wrote: ‘The Sikhs fought like devils . . . fierce and untamed even in their dying struggle . . . Such a mass of men I never set eye on and as plucky as lions: they ran right on the bayonets of the 24th (Regiment) and struck at their assailants when they were transfixed.’

  The bloody battle lasted till darkness fell. The Punjabis captured four British guns and the colours of three regiments. The night was one of great terror for the British. General Thackwell wrote: ‘Confusion pervaded the whole army. Fears were generally entertained that the enemy (the Punjabis) would attempt a night attack. If they had been enterprising and could have perceived the extent of their advantage, they would assuredly have thrown themselves on us . . . the jungle which had befriended them in the commencement of the action now formed a protection to us.’

  The scene of the next morning is also painted by General Thackwell: ‘Prince Albert hats and military shoes might be seen in all directions strewn on the ground in great abundance . . . the camp next day was overspread with funereal gloom.’ And it might well have been, for nearly 3,000 British lay dead or wounded in the ravines and brushwood.

  Chillianwala was the worst defeat the British had suffered since their occupation of India. Gough was superseded and Napier was asked to come from England to take over command.

  Sher Singh Attariwala’s guns boomed a twenty-one gun salute to the Punjabi victory.

  The British awaited their doom with stoic resignation. And once again, as at Ferozeshahr, the Punjabis failed to drive home their advantage to a conclusive victory. Their own losses had been considerable and they were not aware of the magnitude of the punishment they had inflicted on the enemy. They were short of powder and their artillery Commander, General Elahi Bakhsh, in a moment of weakness laid down arms. The supply situation became acute particularly as three days after the battle Chattar Singh with his troops joined his son with not enough provisions for themselves. The elements also came to the rescue of the British. As soon as the fighting stopped it began to rain; and for the next three days it poured incessantly, turning the ravines which separated the Punjabis from their quarry into deep moats. By the fourth day when the sun shone again on the sodden plain, the British had pulled out of Chillianwala and retreated across the Chaj to the banks of the Chenab.

  The English poet, George Meredith, composed the following lines in commemoration of the battle.

  Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!

  ‘Tis a village dark and low,

  By the bloody Jhelum river

  Bridged by the foreboding foe;

  And across the wintry water

  He is ready to retreat,

  When the carnage and the slaughter

  Shall have paid for his defeat.

  Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!

  ‘Tis a wild and dreary plain.

  Strewn with plots of thickest jungle,

  Matted with the gory stain.

  There the murder-mouthed artillery,

  In the deadly ambuscade,

  Wrought the thunder of its treachery

  On the skeleton brigade.

  Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!

  When the night set in with rain,

  Came the savage plundering devils

  To their work among the slain;

  And the wounded and the dying

  In cold blood did share the doom

  Of their comrades round them lying,

  Stiff in the dead skyless gloom.

  Chillianwallah, Chillanwallah!

  Thou wilt be a doleful chord,

  And a mystic note of mourning

  That will need no chiming word;

  And that heart will leap with anguish

  Who may understand thee best;

  But the hopes of all will languish

  Till thy memory is at rest.

  Sher Singh Attariwala again sent a proposal for settlement. Since the Maharajah was in British hands, all he asked for was the reinstatement of Dalip Singh and the evacuation of British forces from Lahore. Sher Singh sent George Lawrence, who was a prisoner in his hands, as an envoy. The terms were rejected. More reinforcements were sent up from Hindustan.

  One may be permitted to digress on the Punjabi treatment of British prisoners. It was always favourably commended by British soldiers—though not always by British historians. The British Subalter wrote: ‘Two of the 9,000 lancers who were taken prisoners the other day were sent back this morning with Sher Singh’s compliments. They seemed rather sorry to come back as they had been treated like princes, pilawed with champagne and brandy to the mast head and sent away with Rs. 10 each in his pocket.’

  The Disaster at Gujerat, 21st February 1849

  Sher Singh Attariwala advanced towards the Chenab and entrenched his forces in horse-shoe formation between the town of Gujerat and the river. At the ends of the horseshoe were the dry beds of two streams. The British forces reassembled at the village of Lassori and then advanced on Gujerat: their right flank touching the Chenab, their left across the same dry stream-bed a little lower down. General Whish, who had been freed from the Multan campaign, came up and added to the enemy strength.

  The Punjabis were weaker both in guns (fifty-nine to the British sixty-six) and in manpower. The Afghan Cavalry was led by Dost Mohammad’s son, Akram Khan, but it could barely be relied on in a struggle which was essentially between the Punjabis and the British.

  The engagement was fought on a bright, sunny morning, with larks singing in the sky. The British advance began at 7.30 a.m. The Punjabis were as usual lacking in confidence. They opened fire too soon and blew away ammunition of which they were short and betrayed the position of their guns. The British halted when they were
within range, adjusted their sights and in a cannonade lasting an hour and a half silenced the Punjabi artillery. Then with their guns still belching fire, British cavalry and infantry stormed the Punjabis. The Afghan cavalry tried to deflect the enemy but withdrew without effecting their purpose and thus exposed another Punjabi flank to the enemy. The Punjabis received the British assault as they had done in the earlier engagements. ‘In this action as well as at Chillianwala’ wrote, Thackwell ‘Seikhs caught hold of the bayonets of their assailants with their left hands and closing with their adversary dealt furious sword blows with their right . . . This circumstance alone will suffice to demonstrate the rare species of courage possessed by these men.’ The gunners, both Mussalman and Sikh, literally stuck to their guns to the last. General Thackwell remarked: ‘The fidelity displayed by the Seikh gunners is worthy of record: the devotion with which they remained at their posts, when the atmosphere around them was absolutely fired by the British guns, does not admit description.’

  The Punjabis began to retreat. By noon they had evacuated Gujerat. The British occupied the town and pressed home their advantage by relentless pursuit. The Punjabis were hemmed in from all sides: Gough in front, Steinbach’s Dogras on their right, Imamuddin on their left and Abbott’s Pathan mercenaries behind them. The Commanders (except Sher Singh Attariwala, who had three horses shot under him) fled, leaving the common soldiers to fight a delaying rear-guard action. The men fought late into the night: their bodies were found scattered for many miles beyond the field of battle. The night was made more fearful by explosions of unfired Punjabi ammunition dumps and by the thunder and rain which followed. The enemy gave the Punjabi wounded no mercy. The British Subaltern wrote: ‘Little quarter, I am ashamed to say, was given—and even those we managed to save from the vengeance of our men, I fear, were killed afterwards. But, after all, it is a war of extermination.’