The sword which smites in a flash,
Which scatters the armies of the wicked
In the great battlefield;
You symbol of the brave.
Your arm is irresistible, your brightness shines forth,
The blaze of the splendour dazzling like the sun,
O Sword, you are the protector of saints,
You are the scourge of the wicked;
Scatterer of Sinners I seek your protection.
Hail to the world’s creator,
Hail to the saviour of creation,
Hail to you O sword supreme.
BACHITTAR NATAK
In the Anandpur area and along the long range of the lower Himalayas the several independent hill rajas had one thing in common – their jealousy and resentment of the Sikhs’ increasing military power. In the ten years of peace he was fortunate enough to get after succeeding his father, Gobind Singh worked intensively on honing the fighting skills of the Sikhs while also finding time to study Sanskrit, Braj, Persian, Arabic and Avadhi along with astronomy, geography, metaphysics and botany; and he composed a number of literary works, including the celebrated Bachittar Nata and Akal Ustat. He also completed the Granth Sahib by adding Guru Tegh Bahadur’s works to it.
Three concerted attacks by the Hindu hill chieftains on the Sikhs settled in Anandpur were heavily defeated. Gobind Singh knew that these victories would not go down well with Aurangzeb, already furious at the growing Sikh ascendance in the area, and prepared his defences by building a chain of forts around Anandpur, at Anandgarh, Lohgarh, Keshgarh and Fatehgarh. He was able to secure a further decisive victory over a combined Mughal and Hindu force in 1690 at Nadaun on the River Beas. Aurangzeb now ordered all military commanders in Punjab to prevent Guru Gobind Singh from any further assemblies of his followers.16
This was more easily said than done. Gobind Singh’s response was to ask Sikh sangats from all over India to converge on Anandpur for Baisakhi (New Year’s Day) at the end of March 1694. They were to come fully armed and with their beards uncut so that the imperial forces along the way were fully aware of their identity. When the huge gathering at Anandpur – in direct defiance of the imperial edict – was reported to the emperor, a sizeable force was immediately sent to Anandpur to take the Guru to task, but the sound of Sikh battle drums and war cries so rattled the imperial contingent during its night advance that it preferred to flee the field without joining battle. After further defeats, including one sustained by Aurangzeb’s son Prince Muazzam, the imperial forces preferred to leave the Sikhs alone for the time being.
During a period of comparative peace from 1697 to 1700 Guru Gobind Singh created the fellowship of the Khalsa or ‘purified ones’, giving followers of the Sikh faith a distinctiveness which followers of no other religion in India had had until then. The first requirement was baptism. The second was that members of the Khalsa should be easily identifiable through five distinctive symbols they would always wear. The baptismal ceremony was simple. To a bowl of clear water would be added some sugar and the mix stirred with a double-edged sword as passages were recited from the Granth Sahib. This mixture of sweetness and steel, which the Guru called amrit, would then be administered to any person wishing to belong to the Khalsa fellowship.
Each of the five personal symbols emblematic of the Sikh faith would start with the letter K: kesh (long hair), kanga (comb), kara (steel band around the wrist), kachh (short breeches) and kirpan (short sword). Kesh set the tone for the other four by making members of the Khalsa instantly recognizable. The long hair was meant to put iron in the spine. The confidence instilled in them by their appearance was vital for a people whose courage and convictions would be repeatedly tested in the battles ahead. The kanga emphasized the importance of cleanliness. The kachh stressed the need for continence and moral restraint. The kara safeguarded the wrist that wielded the sword, while the kirpan symbolized the Khalsa’s commitment to giving wrong-doers short shrift. To convey the psychological purpose of these symbols still further, the pagdi or turban – six yards of muslin tied around the head in an impressive manner – would set Sikh men apart from all others. Finally, each man without exception would use the surname Singh (Lion), while women would have the surname Kaur (Princess).
The creation and baptism of the Khalsa on Baisakhi Day, 1699, taking place against the backdrop of Keshgarh fort and the soaring mountain ranges, was attended by over 80,000 Sikhs. Gobind Singh, standing on high ground, drew his sword and demanded of the stunned audience that one of them step forward to prove his willingness to sacrifice his head for his faith. Some quietly slipped away, but one individual stood up and walked up to the Guru who led him into a tent and emerged a few minutes later with his sword dripping blood. The same exercise was repeated with more volunteers, from whom Gobind Singh selected four, and each time the Guru emerged from the tent with still more blood on his sword.
The terrible suspense ended when the Guru walked out of the tent with the five Sikhs, each now attired in saffron-coloured robes and turbans. Lamb’s blood had served to drive home the point that what the Guru had been testing was the courage and resoluteness of the assembled Sikhs, which he had found lacking in those who had fled in fear. The new martial community which emerged that day on India’s multi-religious landscape would be a race apart, sustained by its religious faith, its strong convictions and its fearlessness. The bedrock of its beliefs would be equality among all and an unbreakable commitment to the secular principles defined by the nine Sikh Gurus who had preceded Gobind Singh.17
The tenth Guru’s message to the assembled Sikhs was: ‘You will love man as man, making no distinction of caste or creed … you will never worship stock, stone, idol or tomb … In each of you the whole brotherhood shall be reincarnated. You are my sons, both in flesh and spirit.’18 The proof of Gobind Singh’s own commitment to ‘making no distinction of caste or creed’ was provided by the caste composition of the panj piyare or ‘five loved ones’ whom the Guru had selected from the volunteers who had come forward for the surprise ceremony. One was a Khatri of higher caste, the second a Jat, a step lower, and the remaining three were Shudras, untouchables or those belonging to a low caste. The most convincing proof of the Guru’s opposition to the caste system became obvious to the assembled gathering when he first baptized each of the five himself, then knelt before them and asked them to baptize him. By taking amrit from them the Guru put an end to the pernicious hierarchical customs that had long bedevilled the Sikhs just as other societies. As Guru Gobind Singh put it on that Baisakhi Day: ‘Your previous race, name, genealogy, country, nation, religion, customs, beliefs and sub-conscious memories are completely burnt and annihilated. Believe this to be so without a doubt, for you now start a New Birth in the House of Guru – Akalpurkh.’19 And in kneeling before the ‘five loved ones’ he also stressed the republican spirit of the faith.
The creation of the Khalsa proved a turning-point for Sikhism because of the dynamic it injected into it by making every individual Sikh feel responsible for upholding Sikhism’s stature and prestige. If a man in a turban and wearing the other symbols of his faith disgraced himself, he would disgrace all Sikhs. So it was obligatory on him to conduct himself in a manner conducive to the principles to which Sikhs were pledged.
Inevitably, the success of the conclave at Anandpur – where around 50,000 persons were baptized – made the hill chieftains uneasy. They sent a message to Emperor Aurangzeb informing him of the creation of the Khalsa and telling him that Gobind Singh had suggested general rebellion against the emperor. They asked for his assistance to expel the Guru from Anandpur, with the warning ‘Should you delay his punishment, his next expedition will be against the capital of your Empire.’20
This representation to Aurangzeb illustrates how India’s people – perpetually resentful of each other – have so often helped aggressors get a stranglehold on the subcontinent. These same chieftains had often come to the Guru for help but were not averse to betra
ying him when it suited them. Aurangzeb needed no persuasion. Although their plea reached him as he campaigned in the south, he sent an expeditionary force against the Sikhs, which was joined by the pahari (hill) rajas. Once again it was routed.
After yet further humiliating military defeats, Aurangzeb now tried a different strategy. He laid siege to the entire Anandpur area, diverting the only stream on which Anandpur depended for its water. He offered the Guru and his party safe passage if he vacated Anandpur for good. A wrenching dilemma faced Guru Gobind Singh. Acceptance of Aurangzeb’s offer would violate everything he had learnt from the exemplars of his faith. Equally unthinkable was to witness the slow death of his family and fellow men. At the end of 1704 he took the decision to leave his beloved Anandpur.
Despite their pledge of safe passage, the Mughals and their camp followers attacked the Sikhs no sooner had they left their fastness in the hills and reached the plains to cross the River Sarsa. The attack, and the swollen river after the winter rains, separated many of the party from each other, which included Gobind Singh’s mother and two sons. With a handful of men left out of an initial 500, the Guru, with his two elder sons Ajit Singh (seventeen) and Jujhar Singh (fifteen), fought his way to Chamkaur village with a Mughal force close on his heels.
Here a fierce battle was joined between forty Sikhs and the heavily armed Mughal force. The Guru’s two elder sons were killed in hand-to-hand combat. Only Gobind Singh and three others survived. As they evaded the enemy’s formations at night and headed for a place more conducive to regrouping the Khalsa, the Guru was separated from his companions in the heart of Mach-hiwara Forest. Continuing his journey on foot, however, he was fortunate enough to be reunited with his three companions. Aside from other Sikhs who rallied round them, when they reached the village of Jatpura they experienced a gratifying reception from the Muslim chief of the area, Rai Kalha, who was deeply appreciative of the uncompromising stand the Sikhs had taken against the intolerant and oppressive policies of Islamic rulers. What Rai Kalha and his fellow Muslim chiefs of a liberal bent proved once again was that, even in dire situations, human decency between men of different faiths need never be forsaken. Even ‘the Caliph of Mecca had shown disagreement with Aurangzeb’s religious policy, while the Caliph of Baghdad had even refused to receive Aurangzeb’s envoy’.21
One of those evil men with primitive instincts who are always at hand, Aurangzeb’s governor of Sirhind, Nawab Wazir Khan, had Guru Gobind Singh’s two younger sons Zorawar Singh (aged eight) and Fateh Singh (six) killed in the most gruesome manner when they fell into his hands. They were first bricked up alive up to their necks, then extricated and beheaded when they would not convert to Islam. It was following this tragedy that Guru Gobind Singh wrote the celebrated letter to Aurangzeb known as the Zafarnamah. This was an open letter to him in Persian that bluntly accused him of deceit and inhumanity. ‘If the Prophet himself was present here, I would inform him of your treachery,’ he wrote.22 History offers few other instances of a sovereign of a major empire wielding absolute authority being so indicted by the representative of a tiny minority group.
Astonishingly, instead of being outraged at Gobind Singh’s open accusations, Aurangzeb expressed a desire to meet Gobind Singh, to see and talk to the man who had such nerve. Despite the emperor’s proven perfidiousness and the blood of the Guru’s sons on his hands, Gobind Singh was confident enough to travel to the south to meet him. Their meeting, however, never came about as the ninety-year-old emperor died while Gobind Singh was still travelling.
Following Aurangzeb’s death, his son Prince Muazzam sought the Guru’s help in his power struggle with his brother Azam. The same Muazzam had once been sent by his father to assault Anandpur and put Guru Gobind Singh down once and for all, but Muazzam, reputedly a man of rectitude, preferred not to do so. The Guru had not forgotten this and sent a contingent of Sikh troops to fight alongside Muazzam’s in the Battle of Jajau near Agra. Azam was killed, his force routed, and Muazzam ascended the Mughal throne as Emperor Bahadur Shah.
He and Gobind Singh had their first meeting in Agra. It was cordial, and they discussed at length how things could be set right in Punjab. The two continued their discussions while journeying together to the south, where Muazzam wanted to deal with his other brother Kambakhsh who had also risen against him. By the time they reached Nander, however, Gobind Singh had realized that the new emperor had little intention of ending the tyrannical ways of Mughal rule, and so in September 1708 he parted company with him.
During his short stay in Nander, Gobind Singh converted a Hindu sadhu or ascetic, Madho Dass Bairagi, to Sikhism. Bairagi was an assertive man of some standing in the area with a following of his own. His initiation into the Sikh faith as Banda Singh Bahadur was to prove of profound historical significance.
First, however, a cataclysmic event overtook the Sikh camp at Nander. Wazir Khan of Sirhind, the murderer of Gobind Singh’s two younger sons, fearful that Bahadur Shah’s closeness to Gobind Singh might adversely affect his own fortunes, sent two Pathans to kill him. One of them stabbed the Guru in the chest as he lay on his bed after evening prayers. Although wounded near the heart, Gobind Singh ran him through with his sword, while his followers decapitated the second. While the wound seemed to be healing well, his over-exertions a few days later reopened it, and excessive bleeding ended the life of this remarkable man at the age of forty-two.
But before the end he drew on his willpower and inner reserves to tell his followers who had assembled in large numbers around him that the tradition of living Gurus would end with him and that after his death the Granth Sahib would be the Guru of the Sikhs for all time. This was a far-sighted move reflecting a clear understanding of human loyalties which can waver when familiar conditions give way to new and stressful demands. The Guru Granth Sahib, as it would thenceforth be known, was not only a repository of the supreme insights of the Sikh Gurus but a compendium of the wisdom of scholars and sages of all faiths. These unique scriptures would ensure that Sikhs would always be open to every thought that respects reason, compassion and just social structures.
As a modern Sikh historian has pointed out: ‘When a Sikh bows before and seeks guidance from the Holy Granth, he offers his devotion as much to Farid, the renowned Muslim Sufi, and Jaidev, a Hindu bhakta of Krishna, as to Guru Nanak or Guru Arjan, the compiler of the Granth. It is a commonwealth of the men of God.’23
So when Sikhs bow before the Guru Granth Sahib they bow before knowledge and wisdom, not before an idol or deity.
With unerring instinct Guru Gobind Singh had sensed in Banda Singh the qualifications of a future leader. Banda, believed to have been born in Kashmir, was at ease everywhere, which is how he had come to settle in Nander in the remote south. He had been a farmer and a hunter and had won a reputation as a formidable fighter; at the same time he possessed the willpower and the discipline to practise yoga and the ascetic life. In converting this seemingly pacific sadhu to the Sikh faith Guru Gobind had released his white-hot inner nature.
Burning with hatred for those who had perpetrated such crimes against a man like Guru Gobind Singh and his family, Banda was determined on vengeance. He set out for Punjab almost 1,500 miles away with just twenty-five armed followers, But he was also armed with Gobind Singh’s hukamnamahs (directives) to all Sikh sangats to rally round his banner. The Guru had given him five arrows from his own quiver, a nishan sahib (flag) and a nagara (war drum) as symbols of authority. Banda’s tiny force soon swelled with the addition of warriors eager to strike back at their Mughal tormentors.
After many armed clashes on the way Banda and his men eventually arrived at the gates of the heavily fortified town of Samana, home of Sayyed Jalal-ud-Din, Guru Teg Bahadur’s executioner, and Shashal Beg, who had executed Guru Gobind Singh’s two younger sons. Helped by a previously oppressed peasantry, the augmented Sikh force took the town in a surprise dawn attack. Other Punjabi towns towns fell before Banda’s men and finally Sirhind. Given the
extent to which Sikh anger would boil over at the very mention of Sirhind and its governor, Wazir Khan, the outcome of the first savage battle that took place over it outside the city was never in doubt. Wazir Khan’s well-armed army of 20,000 men fought a far smaller Sikh force, but he was killed.24 Sirhind itself was taken after a two-day siege but at high cost to the Sikhs, who lost 500 men before the fort’s heavy guns were silenced. The destruction of the town was not permitted following a fervent appeal by its Hindu population. Because of its notorious past, however, it was not to be spared half a century later when Jassa Singh Ahluwalia’s forces invested it.
A six-year roll of victories brought Banda to the gates of Lahore, a city symbolic of Mughal and Afghan authority in India. In one of his most audacious campaigns the Sikh leader captured the fortress of Mukhlispur built on a promontory on the lower reaches of the Himalayas, renamed it Lohgarh and flew the flag of the Khalsa over it. He announced that Lohgarh would henceforth represent Sikh authority over the regions now under their control, and seals and coins were struck to celebrate Sikh rule.
An incensed Emperor Bahadur Shah, with a force of 60,000 horsemen, laid siege to Lohgarh. The majority of a combined Sikh force of around 3,000 horsemen and foot soldiers held the enemy at bay while Banda and a few of his men escaped. Inevitably, however, the vastly superior Mughal forces prevailed. When Banda Singh was finally taken in a siege of the town of Gurdas Nangal on 17 December 1715 the Mughals outdid themselves in barbarity. Three hundred Sikhs were summarily executed and their heads stuffed with hay, mounted on spears and carried in a victory procession to Lahore and then on to Delhi. After spells of torture alternating with attempts to buy him off, Banda was finally taken to the Qutb Minar (a thirteenth-century stone tower 239 feet in height) where ‘they had him dismount, placed his child in his arms and bade him kill it. Then, as he shrank with horror from the act, they ripped open the child before the father’s eyes, thrust his quivering flesh into his mouth and hacked him to pieces limb by limb.’25
Empire of the Sikhs Page 4
