Empire of the Sikhs

by Patwant Singh

  Between 1820 and 1825 he had taken the first steps towards annexation of Dera Ghazi Khan, Dera Ismail Khan, Bannu, Kohat and Peshawar, all of them located to the right of the Indus, and a whole string of lesser Afghan possessions. At first a tribute was levied on them, but in course of time they were occupied either because they defaulted in their annual tributes or because changed conditions called for their permanent absorption in the Sikh state. Each of Ranjit Singh’s conquests left the British either outraged or fretful, and they were especially irked by any inroads into Sind or the adjoining regions west of the Indus because of their own designs on them.

  British annoyance at the systematic expansion and consolidation of the Sikh state had been building up since the very signing of the Sutlej Treaty, even though it was signed to secure British interests, just as the Sikhs signed it to secure theirs. The key difference between the two sides was that, while the British wanted to absorb the Sikh state by one means or another in order to complete their hold on the whole of India, Ranjit Singh entertained no such ambitions about bringing all of India under his own sway.

  Even in 1809, while negotiating terms of a treaty of peace and friendship with the Sikh kingdom, Metcalfe had been harbouring ideas completely to the contrary. In the words of a modern historian: ‘Metcalfe started interfering in [Sikh] internal matters. In fact, more than Lord Minto, he now advocated a complete extermination of the Sikh empire. So much so he openly talked of a full-scale British invasion of the Punjab. He incited the Maharaja against Dewan Mokham Chand and vice versa. He had the audacity to accuse the Dewan of insubordination and told the open court that the real ruler of the Punjab was Mokham Chand and not Ranjit Singh. The Maharaja knew the old British game of divide and rule and refused to be provoked.’8

  What made Ranjit Singh restrain his generals from precipitating matters was his awareness of British intentions for a showdown. Despite two Sikh armies poised along the Indus, and his military commanders urging him ‘not to yield to the demands of the English, for to their understanding it was not clear where such demands would stop’,9 Ranjit Singh would not be hustled into a hasty decision. His caustic response to his generals who urged him to cross the Indus and to annex Sind was to tell them to jog their memories about the fate of the 200,000 men the Marathas had fielded against the British not so long before.

  His acute sense of realism is again evident in the remark he is said to have made on seeing a map of India with the areas under British control in red, telling his top commanders that ‘the whole map will be red one day’. For he recognized Britain’s limitless resources, the range and variety of its weapons, the efficiency of its armed forces and the degree to which it could quickly augment fivefold whatever it needed. He also recognized the fact that his ready access to weapons required to wage a war against the British could never match his adversary’s resources. He knew where to draw the line.

  The main cause of tensions was the question of who would control the River Indus. With their presence already established in Sind, the British were in no mood to compromise on this, since it was the next logical step in their expansionist design on the entire Sind region and beyond. After all, Sind and the Sikh state were the only two exceptions to Britain’s total control of India. But to allay Ranjit Singh’s suspicions with regard to their intentions, the British decided to stage a grand and cordial meeting between Governor-General Lord William Bentinck and Maharaja Ranjit Singh.

  It was to present some of the East India Company’s moves and manoeuvres relating to control of the Indus in an attractive package for the Sikhs that Bentinck offered to meet the Maharaja with the idea of both sides making a spectacular event of it. Ranjit Singh, although clear in his mind about the real purpose of this proposal, responded wholeheartedly to it, as he was keen to see through the smokescreen of fun and games and assess for himself what was being hatched by the British. He had accurately assessed already what lay ahead without being privy to the secret records of British agents. ‘Thus was Ranjit Singh gradually feeling his way … but the English had, in the meantime, resolved to go far beyond him in diplomacy.’10 The event was designed to provide a festive screen for two very serious and interrelated British concerns – their ongoing negotiations with the Amirs of Sind and their objective of preventing Sikh armies from advancing to Sind and the strategic town of Shikarpur on the west bank of the Indus. Both concerns were vital to their efforts to extend their hold over India and were never to leave their agenda in the coming years.

  The site selected for the meeting, Ropar, a town on the banks of the River Sutlej, was considered an appropriate setting for the extravaganza which took place from 26 October to 1 November 1831. Earlier, in July of that year Alexander Burnes and Captain Claude Wade had gone to Lahore and presented Ranjit Singh, with great ceremony, with a coach and five horses as a gift from their king. It was then agreed when and where the meeting would be held.

  The celebrated ‘Field of the Cloth of Gold’ meeting that had taken place near Calais 300 years earlier, in 1520, between Henry VIII of England and Francis I of France, a continuous display of magnificence, feasting and tournaments in which each ruler tried to outdo the other, was the model for what was intended to be another momentous meeting. For Ranjit Singh certainly knew how to entertain on a grand scale.

  A shimmering, double-storeyed silver structure, resembling a villa on wheels, was assembled so that the chief guests would have an unimpeded view of events, the festivities and the parade. The villa was placed in a wide expanse of open fields. A bridge of boats was constructed over the River Sutlej, by which the Maharaja and his entourage, seated on large, magnificently caparisoned elephants, would cross to reach the British side.

  On the right bank of the Sutlej, the Maharaja’s camp, built on eight acres of land, consisted of various pavilions and tents of scarlet hue, made of fine pashmina materials, beautifully embroidered, and velvet worked with silver and gold thread. Gold and brocade carpets were placed inside as well as outside the tents, in which gold canopied beds and footstools were placed. In one of the tents was a dining hall with gold and silver dishes, plates and utensils sparkling under a large bejewelled canopy. The spaces between the pavilions and tents were filled with beds of fragrant herbs, roses and endless other varieties of scented flowers.

  With Maharaja Ranjit Singh came his entourage consisting of his heir Kanwar Kharak Singh and his half-brother Kanwar Sher Singh and son Nau Nihal Singh; Hari Singh Nalwa, the Dogra brothers Raja Dhian Singh, Gulab Singh and Suchet Singh, and the Maharaja’s favourite, Dhian Singh’s son Hira; also the rulers of Jind, Ladwa and Kaithal, the Ahluwalia, Majithia, Attariwala, Sandhanwalia and Kalianwala Sardars and Generals Allard and Court. In all, the entourage consisted of over a hundred elite members of the Lahore Durbar. The cavalry consisted of 16,000 men of the best, with 6,000 chosen from the infantry.

  The British camp was no less impressive, the governor-general arriving with his secretaries, military officers and officials, squadrons of Lancers, two battalions of Native Infantry, two squadrons of Skinner’s Irregular Horse, a mounted band and eight guns.

  On the morning of 26 October Maharaja Ranjit Singh and his chiefs crossed the bridge to the governor-general’s camp with an escort of 3,000 cavalry and 800 infantry. The Maharaja and Sardars were dressed in their favourite saffron yellow colour and striking headgear and many wore exquisitely chased armour and armlets of diamonds, pearls and precious stones the size of small pebbles. Gifts were exchanged, the conversation was lively, and the Maharaja was in great spirits. After the meeting came the singers and dancing girls, with wine flowing freely.

  The next day it was the governor-general’s turn to return Ranjit Singh’s visit. He arrived escorted by his Lancers who were preceded by a mounted band. The entourage was welcomed by a nazar (offering) of gold ducats. The governor-general was then escorted to the silver bungalow. The Political Secretary, Henry T. Prinsep, at one point asked if they could see the Maharaja’s famous Amazons, and the h
osts were only too happy to oblige. This unit of beautiful recruits from Punjab, Kashmir and Persia, magnificently dressed in garments specially made for the occasion, armed with bows and arrows, moving with ‘attractive coquetry and blandishments’, was a beguiling sight to see. The Maharaja proudly pointed out to the guests their commanding officer and her subordinate officers – subedar, jamadar and chobdar – and then asked the unit to sing and dance, which they did with an appealing grace which went well with a popular ballad, ‘Motian Wala Banna’ (‘My Pearl-Bedecked Bridegroom’). They were rewarded with a thousand rupees by the British guests.

  Different forms of entertainment, parades and festivities were laid on during each day that followed. No evening was complete without a display of illuminations, fireworks or dancing girls. One evening, with the English party – both men and women – thoroughly enjoying themselves, Ranjit Singh threw handfuls of coloured powder made from lac dye on them and on the dancing girls. The English sahibs in turn threw it on the Maharaja and the Sardars, and everyone was soon enveloped in fine misty colours.

  Troops were paraded and duly inspected, and cannons fired in countless gun salutes as a part of the drill conducted by British soldiers. Ranjit Singh not only witnessed different types of guns and bullets being used but also examined them minutely afterwards. Targets were set up for the Sardars to show their skills with weapons, and Sardar Hari Singh Nalwa, an especially good shot and a skilled swordsman, was seen at his best. The Maharaja took part in sword play and tent-pegging – hitting the peg with his spear while on horseback. In full gallop he also cut a lemon in half, picked up a banana with the tip of his sword and drew three lines with the point of his sword on the bottom of a jug on the ground.

  Gifts were then exchanged. The governor-general presented Ranjit Singh with nine-pounder horse artillery guns complete with horses and equipment, a model of an iron suspension bridge especially made in Calcutta for the presentation, fifty-one robes of honour, various ornaments, two horses with gold saddles and an elephant with velvet and gold trappings. The princes and Sikh chiefs also received robes of honour and jewellery.

  The Sikhs, never to be outdone in generosity, far exceeded the British in the gifts they gave. Apart from showering everyone with gold ducats, Ranjit Singh presented the governor-general with bejewelled Afghan swords, Persian guns beautifully wrought and gilded, shields, a gold-wrought bow and quiver, horses with gold saddles, elephants with carved silver seats, a pearl necklace and other fine jewellery; also pashmina articles, shawls, mattresses, bed covers and coverings and robes of honour in worked brocade and silk. While the other ladies in the party were given shawls and ornaments, the governor-general’s wife received twenty-six garments, pieces of brocade, handkerchiefs of red silk (red being auspicious), chunis (long scarves), an arsi (thumb ring) and a pearl necklace, jugni (typical Punjab Kundan jewellery), pohnchis (bracelets) and pearl earrings.

  The meeting at Ropar was a highly successful event, an enjoyable combination of spectacle and conviviality – but a cover for the real agenda of the British, summed up in words quoted by a modern historian: ‘The government of India is bound by the strongest considerations of political interest to prevent the extension of Sikh power along the whole course of the Indus.’11

  No formal discussions took place at Ropar, but on the last evening, at a parting meeting during the entertainment given by Bentinck, Ranjit Singh, who might have got wind of or at least suspected British intentions in Sind, pressed for a written assurance of the continuation of ‘eternal relations of friendship’ between his kingdom and Britain. The appropriate document was duly prepared and presented to the Maharaja on the spot. Ranjit Singh took the opportunity of inviting the two men who seemed to him most in Bentinck’s confidence (one of them was his official secretary) to his tent and opened a conversation about Sind, ‘as if desirous to open a negotiation, and concert measures, in relation to that state; or at least to come to an understanding, as to the views of the British Government in respect to it’. The British, however, kept their cards close to the chest, ‘for it was conceived, that, if made aware of the intentions of the British Government, [Ranjit Singh] might, with every profession of a desire to forward them, contrive by intrigue and secret working to counteract the negotiation’.12 In his report back to the British government, Bentinck commented on ‘the anxiety shown by His Highness for the introduction of this assurance’.13 On the very day before the governor-general arrived at Ropar, in fact, he had instructed Henry Pottinger to prepare for a mission to Sind with the object of negotiating a treaty opening up the Indus to trade with Europe and the rest of India.14

  In the aftermath of the Ropar meeting the British made their designs on Sind plain, and the area would become an increasing bone of contention with the Lahore Durbar. Since the establishment of the first trading station by the East India Company in 1758, the British relationship with the Amirs had been a precarious one at best, with the isolationist Amirs first giving the Company permission to stay and then after a while asking them to leave. By the mid-1820s the British had flexed their muscles at the Amirs to the extent that it left them in no doubt of their intentions.

  At the same time the Amirs, fearing Ranjit Singh’s growing power and interest in their holdings and territories, had asked the British for their protection, and the British had acted promptly, with Colonel Pottinger’s mission to Sind actually coinciding with the meeting at Ropar. The treaty signed in April 1832 was a follow-up to Burnes’s visit to Sind the previous year. The British, leaving nothing to chance, sent Captain Wade to negotiate an ‘Indus Navigation Treaty’ with Ranjit Singh, duly signed in December 1832. The purpose of the treaty was ‘to regulate the navigation of the Indus and the collection of duties on merchandise’. The levy of duties on the value and quantity of goods, however, gave rise to misunderstandings, and in November 1834 a supplementary treaty was concluded to substitute a toll, to be levied on all boats ‘with whatever merchandise laden’. This was further supplemented in May 1839 by an agreement which provided for the levy of duty on merchandise ‘at one place and not on the boats’.15

  Far-fetched as it may sound, Sind and the Sikh kingdom occupied a pivotal place in Britain’s bid for world domination. Britain’s problems had been aggravated by the convergence of many momentous events, especially the loss of its American colonies in 1776 and Washington’s declaration of the Monroe Doctrine in 1823 that no European power would be allowed to establish itself in North or South America. (In the words of the doctrine, ‘the occasion has been judged proper for asserting, as a principle in which the rights and interests of the United States are involved, that the American continents, by the free and independent condition which they have assumed and maintain, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future colonization by any European power’.)

  The closure of these territories was particularly galling to Britain which, having clearly established a lead over other nations with its Industrial Revolution, now needed endless supplies of a vast range of raw materials for its industries. This need could be met fully by India, one of the world’s most mineral-rich nations in iron ore, chromites, manganese ore, bauxite, mica, barites, titanium and a whole variety of gemstones. So clearly, if Britain was to be denied access to other continents with the exception of Africa, its absolute control and dominance of India was a must. India was also of vital importance as a gateway to some of the richest and strategically most important countries in South and South-East Asia and the Far East. The chronology of Britain’s expansionist moves in this part of the world was itself revealing, with Burma partially colonized in 1826, China forced into an Opium War in 1839 to make it easier to subjugate and Hong Kong becoming a British colony in 1842.

  What stood in the way of Britain’s complete control of India was the Sikh empire under its shrewd and powerful ruler. Of course Sind had to be taken over, too, but that would have presented no difficulty to the British had it not been for Ranjit Singh’s menacing presence across t
he Indus. However, even as the British continued to manoeuvre in every possible way through various missions, visits, gifts, flowery communications and deputations vowing eternal friendship, Ranjit Singh, realistic to the end, decided to forgo Sind.

  He had the foresight to understand that with the larger goals the British had set their eyes on in Asia, and with their weapons as well as the resources they could draw upon from the entire subcontinent of India which they now controlled, as also from Europe and elsewhere, it would be imprudent of him to fight them over Sind. Especially as they would do everything they possibly could to prevent him from becoming a sea power, which he would if Sind along with the port of Karachi fell into his hands. It must have been a hard decision for him to forgo Sind, and he showed wisdom in taking it.

  It is hard to understand the comments of a historian such as Hari Ram Gupta on the subject of Ranjit Singh’s political capabilities and his decision against annexing Sind. Gupta’s five-volume History of the Sikhs (1984) has been acknowledged as a painstaking chronicle of those turbulent times. He comments: ‘in diplomacy Ranjit Singh proved a complete failure’; and ‘throughout his reign he behaved as if he were a vassal of the British government’; and ‘immediately after the acquisition of Attock in 1813 he should have directed his steps towards Sind’.16

  But as we have seen, Ranjit Singh’s signing of the Sutlej Treaty while still in his twenties showed vision, skill and finesse in negotiating skills that might not have been found together even in a seasoned diplomat. By keeping the British south of the River Sutlej with the help of this treaty, he opened up limitless horizons for carving out a Sikh kingdom in the north.

  On Gupta’s second point, to Henry T. Prinsep, chief secretary to the governor-general, it was clear that Ranjit Singh was no vassal to anyone. In Origin of the Sikh Power in the Punjab (1834) he writes: ‘The territorial possessions of Ranjit Singh comprise now the entire fork of the Punjab, as bounded by the Indus and Sutlej, the two extreme rivers. He holds besides Kashmir, and the entire hill country to the snowy range, and even Ladakh beyond the Himalayas: for though many of the rajas of this tract still remain in their possessions, they have been reduced to the character of subjects, paying tribute equal to their utmost means, and contributing men to the armies of Lahore, whenever called upon.’17 And Prinsep leaves out of account the former Afghan territories beyond Peshawar and the regions around it.