One Amazon of colourful character and exquisite beauty was called Lotus. She was sent as a tribute from Kashmir to Ranjit Singh in the mid-1830s. He was totally captivated by her and assumed she was madly in love with him. One day, while Lotus was dancing before them, he remarked to General Ventura that the dancer was so taken with him that she would not entertain offers from any other man. The Italian general’s face showed disbelief. Ranjit Singh, irked at the doubt cast on his own powers of attraction, challenged Ventura to seduce her. He added that he would put no pressure on her and she would be kept secluded in his zenana. After much hesitation on Ventura’s part on the desirability of vying for the affections of his sovereign’s favourite, he accepted the challenge. Within forty-eight hours it was known throughout the court that the lovely Lotus was now no more in her royal lover’s garden but in the Italian general’s. Ranjit Singh did not seem to mind her desertion very much, but Lotus did and soon left her lover to return to the Lahore court and Ranjit Singh.
It was far from Ranjit Singh’s nature and temperament to confine himself to just one of his loves; another Amazon he was irresistibly drawn to was the celebrated Bashiran. Because she had gorgeous cat-like eyes he would call her Billo, which in Punjabi is slang for ‘cat’. With a beautiful voice and an exceptional singing talent, she would keep the Maharaja entranced. Ranjit Singh made her rich with his gifts of land and jewels.
Billo was not only a singer but commanded a company of Amazons, consisting of thirty or forty singing and dancing girls, hand-picked for their beauty, playfulness and agility. Their uniform has been described as follows: ‘a lemon-yellow banarsi turban with a bejewelled crest; a dark green jumper over a blue satin gown, fastened with a gold belt; deep crimson skin-tight pyjamas of gulbadan silk; and a pair of pointed golden shoes. As for jewellery, they wore a pair of gold earrings set with stones, a diamond nose-stud, a pair of gold bracelets and a ruby ring on the middle finger. Their accoutrement was completed by bows and arrows; but their arrows were less deadly than the glances of their eyes.’12
The Amazons received a daily allowance, and some were given jagirs, from which they got good rent. Lotus was gifted seven prosperous villages by Ranjit Singh as tokens of his affection. She was devoted to him until the end and committed sati when he died.
In addition to the exquisite Amazons, there were others of equal versatility to entertain and enchant Ranjit Singh with their repertoire of dances. W.G. Osborne, military secretary to the Earl of Auckland, invited to dinner by the Maharaja, describes a memorable dance by four recently arrived Kashmiri girls, whose large, luminous eyes and expressive countenances might have entitled them to be considered ‘beautiful anywhere in the world’: ‘They were richly and gracefully dressed in scarlet and gold embroidered shawl dresses, with large and enormously loose petticoats of hand-somely worked silk. Their head ornaments were singular and very becoming; their glossy black hair hanging down the back in a number of long plaits, with gold coins and small bunches of pearls suspended to the ends.’13
Ranjit Singh was prepared to extend his range beyond Persian, Afghan and Kashmiri women, as one young English officer with whom he had a conversation discovered. ‘When Ranjit Singh asked him: “Why don’t you marry?” [his reply was] “I can’t afford it.” [When asked] “Why not? Are English wives very expensive?” [he was told:] “Yes; very.” [To which Ranjit Singh replied:] “I wanted one myself some time ago, and wrote to the government about it, but they did not send me one.” [The officer said:] “It would be difficult to find one in this country that would suit your highness.” [Ranjit then queried:] “Are there any in England?” [and was told:] “Plenty.” [Ranjit Singh’s response was] “Ah! I often wish for one.”‘14
Although he didn’t quite ‘wish for’ Queen Victoria, an endearing story is told by Fane in his Indian memoir. When the Maharaja was presented with an oil painting of the Queen sent to him by the governor-general, he is said to have remarked that ‘Her Majesty [would] make a very decent Nautch girl.’15
The number of Ranjit Singh’s wives is generally placed at around twenty, which includes those in the chadar dalna category. While the latter did not fully qualify as wives of the first order, they were close seconds because they, too, had to go through a religious ceremony. Three Hindu, Muslim and British historians vary slightly in their calculations of the number of Ranjit Singh’s wives. While Gupta settles for twenty,16 Waheeduddin’s figure is eighteen, with nine in each of the two classifications.17 Griffin’s total comes to sixteen, of whom nine were wives and seven chadar dalna.18 As to the number of concubines, it is anybody’s guess.
Ranjit Singh’s childless marriage with Mehtab Kaur proved of far less consequence than his alliance with the Kanhayias, her father’s misl, thanks to the inputs of the energetic and enterprising Sada Kaur, who helped her son-in-law realize not only some of his goals but some of her own as well in the process. Although his marriage with her daughter did not last long, Sada Kaur, while no doubt disappointed, was a pragmatic and clear-headed woman. She was as determined as ever to exploit the opportunities the alliance with the Sukerchakias had opened up for her. Her eventual goal was to dominate the whole of Punjab.
In 1798 Ranjit Singh married again, and in 1802 his second wife, Raj Kaur of the Nakkai misl, presented him with his first son, Kharak Singh, earning her the title of First Rani. As Ranjit Singh’s heir, Kharak Singh was to prove disastrous.
Sada Kaur, knowing well that the only way of increasing her power with her son-in-law was through her daughter and aware of the growing importance of others in Ranjit Singh’s life after the birth of Kharak Singh, insisted that her daughter, too, should have a child by him, even though she now lived in Batala where he visited her rather infrequently. In 1807 Mehtab Kaur duly produced two boys, Sher Singh and Tara Singh. Her plan was to procure the children by any means and pass them off as the Maharaja’s. Ranjit Singh was not fooled but, wishing to avoid a breach with Sada Kaur, treated Sher Singh as a son and gave him the title of prince.19
But the friendliness between Ranjit Singh and Sada Kaur was not destined to last long, because as the energetic lady began to expand her role in the affairs of his kingdom Ranjit Singh’s resentment at her presumptuousness grew. While the two boys were growing up, the ever-ambitious Sada Kaur’s strategy was to get Ranjit Singh to settle handsome jagirs on them. She wished to induce her son-in-law to settle an estate on Sher Singh independently of her own, her aim being to establish a solid claim on Ranjit Singh’s territories through Sher Singh in the years to come.20 But the Maharaja, no novice in this game of wile and guile, insisted that Sada Kaur present the prince with a jagir appropriate to his status out of the extensive Kanhayia territories which were now hers. With the steady souring of their relationship over the years Ranjit Singh had his own eyes on the Kanhayia possessions, and Sher Singh, ironically enough, was now pivotal to the game plan of each.
By October 1820 matters came to a head. Ranjit Singh ordered Sada Kaur to set aside half of her own estates for the maintenance of the two princes, Sher Singh and Tara Singh. Sada Kaur was unwilling to obey the order, threatening to cross the Sutlej and place her estate of Wadhni under British protection.21 With this ill-advised threat she overreached herself and sealed her fate. It was now clear to Ranjit Singh that if his mother-in-law was prepared to resort to the ultimate treachery of turning for help to the British, an enemy-in-waiting, she had to be debarred from any future role not only in his affairs but even in those of her own misl. After a few more moves and counter-moves, including an unsuccessful attempt by Sada Kaur to cross over to the British, she was confined to the Lahore Fort, from which she managed to escape, but a force was sent to apprehend her, returning with a good deal of Kanhayia wealth from their stronghold of Batala. The Kanhayia misl now became Ranjit Singh’s property, and Sada Kaur remained confined in a fort for the rest of her life, first in Lahore and then in Amritsar, where she died in 1832 at the age of seventy.
In 1821 Kharak Singh had a
son, Nau Nihal Singh, whose mother, Chand Kaur, was to play a significant part in future political events. It is important at this point, even though it will mean getting ahead of the narrative somewhat, to turn to her son, since a major milestone in his life provides a backdrop to the grim succession of events that unfolded soon after Ranjit Singh’s death.
Nau Nihal Singh grew up to be the Maharaja’s favourite grandson. Unlike his father, he was intelligent and well mannered. He was not handsome; it is said that he resembled his grandfather in deportment and habits, and his face, too, was pock-marked. Since he was in line for the throne of the Sikh empire after his father Kharak Singh’s death, Ranjit Singh, Lion of Punjab and a doting grandfather, wanted his wedding – which was celebrated when the bridegroom was sixteen years of age – to be symbolic of a kingdom that had come to stay and the third generation of which was already coming into its own. His bride Nanki was the daughter of an important Sikh chieftain, Sardar Sham Singh Attariwala. The wedding and attendant events and festivities, held in and near Amritsar in March 1837, lasted just over three weeks, and more than three million rupees were spent on it.
The guest list read like an Indian who’s who. The rajas of Patiala, Jind, Nabha and Faridkot, the Nawab Maler Kotla and the Chiefs of Suket, Mandi, Chamba and Nurpur were all invited. On the British side those on the invitation list included the governor-general Lord Auckland, Sir Charles Metcalfe, now governor of Agra, and Sir Henry Fane, commander-in-chief of the British Army in India. The latter was among those who attended and left a fascinating eyewitness account of the wedding in his memoir Five Years in India.
Fane was received on the River Sutlej on 5 March by Kanwar Sher Singh and then, near Amritsar, by Prince Kharak Singh, Prime Minister Dhian Singh and a deputation of 3,000 splendidly dressed horsemen. He was welcomed with a gift of 5,000 rupees. Kharak Singh was dressed in gold and silver but is said not to have been half as handsome as his brother Sher Singh, who is described as a tall, black-bearded man, majestic in a magnificent sarpech (ornamental headpiece) of large diamonds, rubies and emeralds. The emerald belt he wore on this occasion is now at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Ranjit Singh’s powerful prime minister Dhian Singh was a striking figure. He was above average height, with aquiline features and a high forehead; his attire was bedecked with jewels, the hilts of his sword and dagger were encrusted with gems, and his cuirass of polished steel – a present from King Louis-Philippe of France – was embossed with gold. He sat proud on a large Persian horse, the saddle and bridle of which were embroidered with gold.
Everyone was housed in tents of scarlet material, crowned with gold balls. Floors were covered with rich carpets, and chairs were of carved silver. On his arrival at the camp Fane was greeted by the Maharaja’s envoy with 2,100 gold ducats and 500 trays of Indian sweets and fruit.
On the following day a meeting between Ranjit Singh and Fane took place in the garden of Amritsar’s Rambagh Palace under a canopy of colourful shawls held up by silver poles. Chairs of gold and silver were placed for the guests. The Maharaja and his entourage came on elephants gorgeously caparisoned. Ranjit Singh, who struck eyewitnesses as beginning to look elderly, although without any diminution in his mental alertness, was plainly dressed in green, but what stood out was a single string of huge pearls around his neck and two diamond armbands. Raja Dhian Singh’s eighteen-year-old son Hira Singh, another favourite of Ranjit Singh’s, stood out in the crowd. Very handsome although rather effeminate, he was covered from head to toe in a profusion of jewels. It is said that he was one of the few allowed to be seated in the Maharaja’s presence. As usual, Ranjit Singh questioned his interlocutor closely and continuously about all aspects of his army.
The Maharaja showered the people with gold and silver coins as he rode through the streets. At the Bhangi Fort the watna ceremony (applying oil to the hair) took place, with Ranjit Singh the first to apply oil on his grandson after first throwing hundreds of gold ducats into the vessel full of oil. The others followed suit. Prince Kharak Singh and his mother Raj Kaur made a sarwarna or blessing of 125 rupees each over the bridegroom. The latter’s sister then performed the traditional custom of rubbing oil into Ranjit Singh’s beard. The pleased Maharaja gave her 500 rupees, but she returned the money and asked for a jagir instead, which was instantly granted. This ceremony was followed by an evening of feasting. Gifts of money and gold then arrived for the bridegroom from the bride’s home in Attari.
In the morning of the third day, 7 March, the ceremony of investiture of the bridegroom with the bridal chaplet or wreath took place at the Golden Temple. Ranjit Singh personally covered the bridegroom’s face with a sehra or veil of uncut diamonds and pearls, and monetary offerings were placed before the holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib, and at the Akal Takht. In the afternoon the procession left for Attari, headquarters of the Attariwalas. It is estimated that not less than 600,000 people lined the roads on either side.
On reaching the baronial-looking castle of Sardar Sham Singh Attariwala, a stout and easy-going man, the Maharaja was presented with 101 gold mohurs and five richly caparisoned horses, Kharak Singh with 51 gold mohurs22 and a horse, and all the other Sardars received commensurate gifts. The marriage ceremony took place in the evening at what was considered an auspicious hour. Under a large canopy attached to the roof of the main building, before a large assembly of guests and spectators, the bridegroom was seen for the first time, his face covered by the sehra. The ceremony ended at nine o’clock. The Maharaja was moved to say to his wife Raj Kaur, grandmother of the bridegroom: ‘This is the most auspicious and fortunate day which it has been vouchsafed me by God to see. I must thank the Almighty, for such a day was not vouchsafed even to my forefathers.’23
Immediately after the ceremony there was a fireworks display and feasting followed by dancing which carried on all night. On this occasion Ranjit Singh, seated on his chair of state, wore the Koh-i-noor diamond on his arm along with his famous pearls. Even a sip of his favourite fiery liquor brought tears to the eyes of his English guests, but the Maharaja drank several glasses of it with no visible effect.
The next day the bride’s dowry was displayed to the people in an enormous enclosure five miles in circumference. It consisted of 101 horses with gold and silver trappings, hundreds of cows, buffaloes, camels and elephants, shawls from Kashmir, silks from Multan, gold and red brocade from Benares, beautifully carved silver and gold plate and dishes and precious stones. The clothes alone are said to have covered an acre. Sir Henry Fane gave the bridegroom 11,000 rupees and Raja Dhian Singh 125,000 rupees, while the other chiefs gave what was appropriate to their rank and position. Money was also distributed to the poor in the same enclosure; it is said that over a million people were given one rupee each.
The wedding festivities continued at Lahore where on the evening of 12 March the British and other guests were entertained at the Shalimar Gardens, which had a fairyland atmosphere, with decorations and illuminations from countless oil lamps in different colours hanging from trees, roofs and walls and along the walks, all reflected in the cascading waterfalls. The English ladies were enchanted, and after they left the dancing gathered tempo and liquor flowed.
A few days later, with so much military presence on both sides, it was time for reviews. On 16 March a grand review of the Sikh army was held; it is recorded that 18,000 men assembled in Lahore, well clothed and armed in the European fashion. On the following day Fane’s escort of cavalry, horse artillery and infantry units held their review. Ranjit Singh’s overtly expressed admiration for what he saw was immense, as an eyewitness describes: ‘The extreme delight of the old man at the discipline of the men and the explanation the General gave him of the movements, and how they would act with a large body, surpasses belief. He rode through and looked at every gun, examined the appointments of the men, counted the number in each square, and quite gained all our hearts by the interest he took and the acuteness which he showed by his questions.’24 He was so delighted to
see a six-pounder of the Horse Artillery dismounted from its carriage, taken to pieces and put together again inside five minutes that he afterwards sent a gift of 11,000 rupees to be divided among the soldiers. And he responded similarly at a British artillery demonstration on the following day.
On 22 March the Holi (spring) festival was celebrated with traditional vigour. The British commander-in-chief was present, and the Maharaja poured red powder and yellow saffron over his head while the prime minister rubbed him all over with gold and silver leaf mixed with red powder. The Sardars, seated on chairs with baskets of red powder beside them, pelted each other with balls filled with saffron. The Afghan ambassador, just arrived from Kandahar, a devout Muslim, was covered in coloured dust from head to foot and, not having any idea what was happening, took flight amid roars of laughter – ‘etiquette for the nonce was thrown to the winds’.25
Twenty-two days after General Fane had been received, on 27 March, he took his leave of the Maharaja in a farewell visit to him in his garden house, seated on a carpet with tame pigeons feeding around him, attended by his court.
Ironically enough, since it was Ranjit Singh who openly asked the questions and soaked up information, it was the British who had seriously set about gaining military intelligence on this occasion. The commander-in-chief’s party had used the opportunity to make a detailed appraisal of the Sikhs’ military power, which was reckoned to consist of 67 infantry regiments, 700 pieces of artillery and innumerable cavalry. Fane’s confidential report to the governor-general contained estimates of the British army’s ability to destroy Ranjit Singh’s military might, which had now reached formidable proportions.26 In his History of the Sikhs (1849) Joseph Cunningham called this use of what was supposed to be a social occasion to form an estimate of the force which would be required for the complete subjugation of the Punjab ‘a base and graceless act’.27
Empire of the Sikhs Page 16
