8

The Decadent and Deceitful

Many of them, so as to curry favour with tyrants, for a fistful of coins, or through bribery or corruption, are shedding the blood of their brothers.

EMILIANO ZAPATA

Within days and months of Ranjit Singh’s death his empire began to flounder – something that would have been unlikely to happen had the republican character of the Sikh state remained unchanged. Ranjit Singh’s successors were unable to carry their fellow Sikhs with them because the Durbar’s intrigues left many of them utterly disenchanted at the spectacle of all major decisions being taken by a few courtiers who lacked any integrity and moral vision. Such men no longer enjoyed the confidence or respect of the fearless and resolute Sikh troops on whom the power of the Sikh state had always rested. That power was now being destroyed from within.

The poet George Herbert writes that ‘storms make oaks take deeper root’. Just the opposite happened when Ranjit Singh died. Prince Kharak Singh, who succeeded him as the Maharaja, was no oak, and the storms that began blowing after his father’s death destroyed whatever roots he had. He was weak and ineffectual, with neither the charisma nor the qualifications to hold together the extraordinary legacy with which he had been left. He was incapable of dealing with external or internal threats, and it was the latter that put an end both to his rule and to his life. Some contemporaneous historians have their own agendas for holding that he was not as much of a weakling as he has been made out to be and that Dhian Singh ran him down to his father. ‘It will readily be acknowledged by all who knew anything of Kurruck Sing’, writes one such English historian, ‘that in the early part of his life he gave the promise of, or in reality possessed, all the abilities requisite for a sovereign of the Punjaub; with perhaps one exception, viz. that while not so crafty as the minister, Dhian Singh, he was more religiously and peacefully inclined, and far less ambitious. Yet though peaceful, he proved when roused to energy that he possessed no small share of personal bravery, activity, and determination.’1 It has at least to be admitted that in the immediate aftermath of Ranjit Singh’s death and during the brief period in which he was still active Kharak Singh did score victories with the occupation of the hill states of Mandi, Saket and Kulu in 1840 – the same year in which he died, on 5 November.

His son, Nau Nihal Singh, was of a different mettle altogether. To begin with, because he was bright, alert and immensely proud of the legacy of which he was a part, Ranjit Singh saw him as a person who had the necessary energy and enthusiasm to continue the tradition of strengthening the foundations of the Sikh nation he had founded. But that promise remained unfulfilled, in part because of his early end and also because he lacked the humane instincts and wisdom that had set his grandfather apart. He had certainly started out in his footsteps, joining family tradition in being barely thirteen in May 1834 when he fought in the battle in which the Sikhs annexed Peshawar: both his grandfather and great-grandfather had gone out to battle before they were ten. So both at Peshawar and then among the Sikh soldiers who quelled a revolt at Dera Ismail Khan and Tonk, Nau Nihal Singh proved that the blood of his forefathers coursed richly through his veins.

What he completely lacked were scruples of any kind. He was incapable of distinguishing between good and evil, which was in all likelihood responsible for his early end. While, for example, on the one hand he loathed Dhian Singh – and with considerable justification – he connived with him in crudely removing his father from power and exercising all the ruler’s powers himself. On 8 October 1839 he also connived with Dhian Singh in the killing of Chet Singh, his father’s closest adviser. It was a chilling and brutal murder, carried out in the presence of a very sick Kharak Singh. Nau Nihal Singh himself, it has been written, was present. According to some accounts Dhian Singh stabbed Chet Singh ‘twice through the stomach with a long knife’.2

Kharak Singh declined rapidly, both in body and mind, after witnessing the brutal end of his friend and the callous disregard for his own dignity and sensitivity. The eighteen-year-old Nau Nihal Singh viewed his father’s sad state as an opportunity to take over as virtual Maharaja of Punjab – a position to which he failed to bring any of his grandfather’s qualities of statesmanship and leadership. ‘His virtual assumption of power in the name of the titular monarch in December 1839’, writes a modern historian, ‘was characterized with unwise political steps … he prevented the British political agent Wade from meeting the Maharaja in December 1839, and made an attempt that Sir John Keane, the British general, should not have an interview with the Maharaja. He was also responsible for the recall of Wade from Ludhiana for the latter’s alleged overbearing and obnoxious conduct towards him and the minister Dhian Singh.’3

Not content with these patently unwise moves against the British – in contrast to Ranjit Singh who had always made it a point to curb his own feelings about them – Nau Nihal Singh showed no such finesse. But he certainly stood up to them when the British made various provocative moves, some of which were noted down by the governor-general in his minute dated 20 August 1839. Among other things, he ‘proposed the establishment of a permanent British mission at Peshawar and a magazine at Rawalpindi in the territories of the Durbar though they were not stipulated in the Tripartite Treaty [signed on 26 June 1838 by Ranjit Singh with Shah Shuja and the East India Company agreeing on a joint invasion of Afghanistan to put Shah Shuja on the Kabul throne]’.4

Nau Nihal Singh was perversely and provocatively rude to his father during the last few weeks of his life. Kharak Singh died on 5 November 1840 at just thirty-eight years of age. Ironically, Nau Nihal Singh’s own life also ended the next day with the fall of an archway on him as he and some others were passing under it on their way back from his father’s funeral. There are a number of versions of his death, one being that he did not die in the accident but was killed on the orders of Dhian Singh a day or two later, during which time no one was allowed to see him on the plea that he was being treated for his injuries.

Accounts of Nau Nihal Singh’s end by writers of the period leave little doubt of Dhian Singh’s role in it. ‘None of the female inmates [of Lahore Fort], not even his wives, were suffered to see him. Everything was kept locked up for a while … and the minister [Dhian Singh] with but two of his followers and chief hill men remained with the prince.’5 An eyewitness account by Captain Alexander Gardener, an American serving in the Lahore Durbar’s artillery, noted that it was some of his own men who put the injured prince into a litter to take him to the fort. ‘One of the palkee [palanquin] bearers afterwards affirmed, that when the prince was put into the palkee, and when he was assisting to place him there, he saw that above the right ear there was a wound which bled so slightly as only to cause a blotch of blood of about the size of a rupee … the blood neither flowed nor trickled in any quantity, before his being taken out. Now, it is a curious fact, that when the room was opened, in which his corpse was first exposed … blood in great quantity, both in fluid and coagulated pools, was found around the head on the cloth on which the body lay.’6

Whatever caused Nau Nihal Singh’s death, the consensus of accounts is that the lives of two men whom Ranjit Singh had hoped would ensure the continuity of his legacy came to an end within two days of each other. Although there are other suspects, most fingers point not only at Dhian Singh but also at his brothers Gulab Singh and Suchet Singh (although the last name of each was Singh, they were not Sikhs); they had sworn allegiance to Ranjit Singh, who knew how to retain their loyalty during his lifetime. An added edge to Dhian Singh’s intrigues was provided by his obsessive desire to see his son Hira Singh ultimately ascend Ranjit Singh’s throne. The conspiracies he hatched after the Maharaja’s death involved hatred, mistrust and other violent deaths to clear his son’s way to the throne. As prime minister he was in a position to arrange the bloodbaths necessary to attain his ends.

Aside from these Kashmiri Dogras and the Brahmins Tej Singh and Lal Singh, members of Ranjit Singh’s own family were equally involved in their own intrigues to capture power, indifferent to the fact that the British were waiting on the sidelines to exercise their skills in manipulation and subversion which inexorably led to domination and subjugation of the Sikh nation. The more active of these participants in the struggle for power were Chand Kaur, Kharak Singh’s widow and mother of Nau Nihal Singh, and Sher Singh, Ranjit Singh’s second son.

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Chand Kaur was at the centre of the struggle that now began in the Lahore Durbar. Although she ascended to power by assuming ‘the functions of regent or ruler’,7 she held the reins for all too brief a time, but during this period she conducted herself with extraordinary self-assurance. As she put it, if ‘England is ruled by a queen, why should it be a disgrace to the Punjab to be governed by a Rani?’ Which was more easily said than done, considering the nature of those who surrounded her.

It was accepted that Sher Singh, Ranjit Singh’s second son, born of Ranjit Singh’s first wife Mehtab Kaur, was illegitimate, and even the Maharaja, who had given him the title of prince, had not been entirely comfortable with him, although honouring him in various ways. The young man had an impressive presence, but his dissipated ways and lack of serious convictions earned him no respect, and, as usual, time-servers and others crowded around him for their own ends. Despite coming close to the throne after Ranjit Singh’s death, he lost out because of his lack of leaderly qualities, legitimacy and political wisdom.

Sher Singh was out of the capital when his half-brother Kharak Singh and Nau Nihal Singh died, although this news was deliberately sent late to him. He returned to Lahore as soon as he heard it, but by this time Chand Kaur – despite Dhian Singh’s attempted moves to delay him – had managed to get herself installed as ruler of the Punjab. The main card she played was that her daughter-in-law, Nau Nihal Singh’s widow, was pregnant and she would hold power as Regent until the child was born. If the new-born was a girl instead of a boy, she would be perfectly agreeable to adopting Dhian Singh’s son Hira Singh as the heir to the empire – which is what Dhian Singh’s plan had been all along. Even the devious Dhian Singh seemed satisfied with Chand Kaur’s offer, which Sher Singh was not, wanting to remove her by force of arms. Dissuaded by Dhian Singh from doing anything rash at this stage, Sher Singh was advised to wait for the appropriate moment, which he was assured would not take long. Sher Singh, the ‘good-natured voluptuary’, was happy to go back to his dissipated ways.

Chand Kaur was doubtless aware that her pacification of Dhian Singh was a lull in the storm he was bound to create. He was much too involved in devious ways to be wholly convinced that Chand Kaur’s assurance regarding Hira Singh was etched in stone. Nor was he unmindful of the many other influences that might prevail on her, or of her own intelligence and ambitions. She could also draw on some powerful figures for help. To begin with, she was the daughter of Jaimal Singh, Sardar of the Kanhayia misl. She was also close to Attar Singh, the Sandhanwalia chief, as well as to Sardar Lehna Singh Majithia, an influential nobleman although not a misl chief. There were several other Sardars she could call upon, too. To consolidate her position further she appointed Attar Singh Sandhanwalia as her prime minister.

A man of Dhian Singh’s acuity was wholly aware of the support Chand Kaur was mobilizing to consolidate her position. Aside from his other subterranean moves, the two main cards he chose to play, in order to defend his own interest and that of his Maharaja-in-waiting son Hira Singh, was to edge his brother Gulab Singh into Chand Kaur’s circle of close advisers, while at the same time placing his bets on Sher Singh. It was a shrewd move of Dhian Singh’s. While his brother could subvert the state from within the Durbar, Sher Singh could be made to mount a frontal attack on it, given his own claim to the throne. This would place both the Dogra brothers in a win-win situation; if things worked out in their favour, they would be rid of both Chand Kaur and Sher Singh.

With the time considered ripe for a march on Lahore, as a late-nineteenth-century historian describes, ‘Sher Singh, according to previous arrangements with Dhian Singh, marched from Mukerian, at the head of about 300 followers, and posted himself at the Shalimar gardens. To his great disappointment, however, he was informed that Dhian Singh, instead of joining him at the gardens as previously arranged, had not, up to that moment, even left his hill territory in Jammu. This afforded an opportunity to Jawala Singh, an ambitious Sardar, and one of Sher Singh’s principal councillors, who aspired to the wazirship, to instil into the mind of the credulous prince the idea that Dhian Singh cared little for his interests, and that his real sympathies were with his brother, Gulab Singh, who had openly espoused the cause of the Maharani.’8 Inexorably, the stage was now being set for a showdown, with subversion of the two camps by the Dogra brothers assured.

‘For about thirty days,’ in the words of an earlier British historian, ‘Dhian Singh remained at Jammu, during which time the emissaries he had left at Lahore secretly to ply the Sikh soldiery, had so well played their part as to have received promises from the different corps that as soon as the minister and Sher Singh should present themselves at Lahore, they would place the latter upon the throne. These promises were given on consideration that the army should receive an increase of pay, together with large presents – terms which only were afterwards partially fulfilled.’9

All this would soon prove fatal for Sher Singh, who lacked the intelligence to foresee that by making the Sikh army take sides in palace intrigues he was undermining the basic structure on which the supposedly indestructible power of the Lahore Durbar rested. By foolishly drawing the army into the political decision-making process, he gave it the right to assert itself in decisions affecting the state – which was a right invested by the Gurus in the entire Khalsa community and not just the army. What aggravated conditions within the army still further were the feelers Sher Singh sent to the British, seeking their help in capturing Lahore. This angered the army – already ill-disposed towards the British – still further.

Dhian Singh with his men arrived at Shahdara, not far from Lahore, to join Sher Singh on the fifth of the week-long siege of Lahore. Before his arrival the Sikh soldiery had rallied around Sher Singh in numbers that are said to have been close to 70,000 infantrymen. The detachments stationed in the Lahore Fort were also mobilized to the fullest. The battle between the besiegers and the besieged was bloody. As for the Dogra brothers, while Gulab Singh oversaw operations within the fort, according to plan Dhian Singh arrived outside it as an ally of Sher Singh. Sher Singh, on learning of Dhian Singh’s arrival, offered to end hostilities and negotiate with Gulab Singh – who refused to accept any overtures except through the mediation of his brother Dhian.10 What better outcome could the Dogras ask for?

The siege ended on the evening of 17 January 1841 with the capitulation of Chand Kaur’s forces. The terms of the peace agreed between Chand Kaur and Sher Singh were as follows: ‘The Maharani Chand Kaur to surrender the fort of Lahore to Sher Singh, and to give up all her claims to the throne of Lahore. In return for this Sher Singh was to give the ex-queen a jagir of nine lakhs [900,000] of rupees, adjoining the Jammu hills, which should be managed by Gulab Singh, as her regent or mukhtar. Secondly, that Sher Singh was to refrain from his wish to marry the Maharani by the ceremony chadar-dalna. Thirdly, that the Dogra troops should be permitted to leave the fort and capital unmolested. And fourthly, that security should be furnished for the due fulfilment of the treaty.’11

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It is time now to take a closer look at Gulab Singh. What distinguished him from his brother was not the degree of his capacity for treachery, since here there was very little to choose between the two. It was Gulab Singh’s cupidity that set him apart. He regularly helped himself without compunction to what belonged to others. He not only surreptitiously removed an enormous amount of the Lahore Durbar’s wealth after Chand Kaur’s surrender but had been periodically helping himself to state property even before that and during the time of Maharaja Kharak Singh.

Here is what the newsletters published by the court at this time under the title of Punjab Akhbar had to say about this: ‘It was reported … that “Raja Gulab Singh is removing from the fort of Minawar and from other forts in the Minawar district, lakhs of property and money to Jammu.” This amounted to theft of the State property, and the Maharaja [Kharak Singh] was naturally enraged to hear this and exclaimed: “Who are these Rajas that they should carry away property and coin from the fort of Minawar?” On hearing these remarks Dhian Singh sent word to the Maharaja saying, “It is at the Maharaja’s option to sequester all his property, but why abuse and degrade him?”‘12

More outrageous still was the brazenness with which Gulab Singh helped himself to Chand Kaur’s wealth, which she had rightfully inherited from her husband Maharaja Kharak Singh. After her surrender at Lahore Fort, Gulab Singh ‘carried off the accumulated treasures of Ranjit Singh … sixteen carts were filled with rupees and other silver coins, while 500 horsemen were each entrusted with a bag of gold mohurs, and his orderlies were also entrusted with jewellery and other valuable articles. The costly pashminas, and rich wardrobes, and the best horses in Ranjit Singh’s stables, were all purloined by Gulab Singh on the occasion of his evacuating Lahore, an event which took place on the night following the cessation of hostilities.’13

But this was not all. Adept as he was at the game of stealing on the grand scale, he had over time misappropriated the revenues of twenty-two districts which had been put for just administration under his charge. He had also regularly diverted to his coffers some of the tribute sent to the Lahore Durbar by the hill rajas. Aside from all that the generous Ranjit Singh had gifted him, he owned large tracts of land in Jammu and from 1830 onwards had a monopoly of the salt mines in the Pind Dadan Khan Salt Range which were also a gift from the Maharaja. In addition to all this, the latter had made him Raja as well and granted him Jammu as a jagir in 1820.

When Sher Singh arrived outside Lahore in January 1841 in preparation for his assault on the fort, Gulab Singh, who was then Chand Kaur’s confidant and factotum, went to see him. After professing his unswerving loyalty to Sher Singh, he pulled the Kohi-i-noor diamond out of his bag and offered it to him as a humble gift. Sher Singh had no problem in accepting it. Having thus put him in a mellow mood, the wily Dogra then proceeded to pledge his abiding loyalty to Sher Singh just as he had, he said, been loyal to his lord and master Ranjit Singh. He explained that it was because of his profound regard for the old Lion that he had stayed by the side of Chand Kaur in these difficult times, so that he could protect and help her in every possible way. Having built his bridges with Sher Singh, he returned to work against him from within the fort. Theoretically Chand Kaur’s trusted adviser, he had no qualms about walking off with her wealth the day the Lahore Fort fell.

And what of Chand Kaur? For a spirited lady who had tried to stand up to the menacing intrigues that swirled all around her, her end was particularly tragic. After the capitulation of Lahore Fort she was confined to an apartment there for more than a year. She tried to rally some of the Sikh chiefs around her from there, as also many of the Khalsa regiments. She made overtures to the British as well. But the odds were stacked against her. Both Sher Singh and Dhian Singh sensed danger from her intrigues and the staunch support being given to the Rani by the Sandhanwalias. Gulab Singh feared the disclosure of his looting of the Lahore treasury. All three seem to have agreed to get rid of her, and the execution of their plan was entrusted to Dhian Singh. The Rani’s trusted maidservants were won over, and on 9 June 1842 she was administered arsenic poison in a drink. After she had remained in a coma for three days her skull was smashed with a grindstone.14

Chand Kaur was the only woman who ruled the Sikh empire. Had she had even a little more time on the throne, without so many malignant presences around her, she might have handled her responsibilities with much greater confidence and success and thereby honoured the injunction of the Sikh Gurus, who had clearly given a call for equal rights to all women in every walk of life.

The spotlight now shifted on to Sher Singh, who had ascended the throne on 18 January 1841 after the removal of Chand Kaur from the throne. In what was surely the most naïve and senseless act of his life, he appointed Dhian Singh as his prime minister. But he had learnt no lessons from the sinister role of Dhian Singh in the Lahore Durbar’s affairs after Ranjit Singh’s death. As was to be expected, Dhian Singh soon brought back to court his brother Gulab Singh and his own son Hira Singh. Sher Singh compounded his error by being persuaded to make Hira Singh commander-inchief of the Punjab forces. An indolent profligate, he was only too glad to shift the responsibilities of government on to the shoulders of the willing Dhian, who lost no time in filling all the most important posts in the state service with ‘friends of the family’. The Jammu brothers were now at the height of their power.15

The inevitable consequence of Sher Singh’s unwise moves was his growing alienation from the Sikh forces as also from the Sardar chiefs, who viewed the disintegration of the Durbar’s authority under the two Dogra upstarts with anger and dismay. The same Durbar that in Ranjit Singh’s time had enjoyed high esteem and affection was now vilified, its writ openly flouted. It was impossible for Sher Singh’s Rajput prime minister to make any impact on the chaotic conditions throughout the Punjab; he was able to restore some measure of order within the capital, but without its walls his authority was treated with contempt by an army getting more and more out of hand. In Lahore itself insubordination was rife enough, but in the provinces things were much worse. In Peshawar and Multan, in Kashmir and the newly conquered state of Mandi, the troops rose in open rebellion, and the drastic measures taken by the governors to quell these and other uprisings served only to intensify the general mood of mutiny.16

The inconceivable was now happening in Ranjit Singh’s redoubtable realm. There are several explanations for the rebellious mood of the soldiers, but the one that stands out is divided loyalties, divided between those in Lahore Fort loyal to Chand Kaur and those outside loyal to Sher Singh. The esprit de corps that had held the Sikh army together through some of the great battles they had fought under Ranjit Singh and his generals had begun to erode. To fight with each other was not on the soldiers’ agenda, and without charismatic leaders to lead them their discipline, dedication and loyalty came under severe strain. In Multan, Peshawar, Mandi and Kashmir mutinous forces unleashed a reign of terror.

The Sikh soldiers resented the influence and intrigues of the Dogra brothers. This led to the increasing assertiveness of their republican spirit, which was now increasingly manifesting itself. They would never have questioned Ranjit Singh’s charismatic leadership but were now thoroughly angered at decisions of great importance being taken – without consultation with them – by ineffectual and conspiratorial men. To top it all were Sher Singh’s foolish moves to get the army to take sides in palace intrigues.

No less ill-advised was his constant hankering for British support. He had long tried to woo the British and within five days of his father’s death had already conveyed to the British political agent at Ludhiana, George Russel Clerk, his own eminent suitability for the Sikh throne, asking him to convey this to the governor-general, Lord Auckland. Emily Eden, Auckland’s sister, visiting Lahore in 1838, had grown quite fond of Sher Singh and at one point observed: ‘It is just possible his dear fat head will he chopped off, unless he crosses to our side of the river.’17 On the death of Chand Kaur the Sandhanwalia Sardars, key supporters of hers, fearing Sher Singh’s anger, had fled across the Sutlej to seek British protection, and two of the four Sandhanwalia brothers even went over to the British. In due course, however, all four were persuaded to return to Lahore. George Russel Clerk did his utmost to plead and champion their cause with Sher Singh. The Maharaja had no reason to trust the Sandhanwalias but was swayed by Clerk’s persuasive arguments. He pardoned and allowed them to return to Lahore and made the mistake of befriending them.

It was only a matter of time before they started plotting the downfall of both Sher Singh and Dhian Singh. One day while Sher Singh was in his cups they got him to sign a document ordering the death of Dhian Singh. Next they went to Dhian Singh and showed him his death warrant duly signed by the Maharaja. Dhian Singh, whose loyalities were like the ebbing and flowing tide, hatched a plan with the Sandhanwalias to murder Sher Singh.

Quite apart from his own defects of mind and character, court intrigues, the stigma of illegitimacy and a constant threat to his life made Sher Singh a thoroughly helpless figure, caught between antagonistic political factions and a resurgent republican army, when he was supposed to be a successor to the great Maharaja. He aligned with all and sundry but trusted none. In desperation he was even willing to surrender part of his kingdom to the British in return for their help towards restoring his authority as a sovereign. On 15 September 1843 the predictable end came: both he and Prime Minister Dhian Singh were murdered by the Sandhanwalia chiefs.18 Shortly after these murders Prince Partap Singh, Sher Singh’s son and heir apparent to the throne of Punjab, was stabbed to death.

The odds had been so strongly stacked in favour of an imminent and violent change of power that Clerk and the British would have had to be blind not to know what was likely to happen if the Sandhanwalias went back to Lahore. Were the British guilty of being accomplices or accessories to these treasonous murders? As The British Friend of India, published in London, wrote in December 1843 of these murders: ‘We have no proof that the Company instigated all the King-Killing in the Punjab since Ranjit Singh died … We must say we smell a rat.’19

In any objective assessment of the extent of Sher Singh’s responsibility for his own murder, the only conclusion possible is that he was responsible. By actively participating in plots to assassinate political rivals he completely reversed Ranjit Singh’s policy of tolerance and non-violence even towards his vanquished foes. It was inevitable that he should pay with his life for the folly of failing to understand that, once encouraged, political murders become a way of life. The British knew how to take full advantage of their adversaries’ weaknesses, but in the ultimate analysis far more serious was the effect of these palace intrigues on the army. Here again Sher Singh gravely misjudged the dangerous implications of casting the army in the role of king-maker, which he had done by winning over sections of it to help him attack Chand Kaur in Lahore on 14 January 1841.

Bikrama Jit Hasrat pinpoints the situation: ‘Sher Singh’s accession was unattended by any acts of violence; the army which had enthroned him, had also become his master. It began to wreak vengeance on those whom it considered traitors to the Khalsa. It plundered the houses of several chiefs, dismissed foreigners from state service, and declared its determination to punish those who sought foreign interference.’20 Sher Singh’s contacts with the British stirred up further discontent within the army, which was utterly disapproving of the British.

When, inevitably, the army seriously split down the middle, the very fundamentals of the Khalsa’s founding principles were affected, since it was the privilege of the entire Khalsa community to take decisions of profound importance to the faith. Even then, despite the serious schisms in its ranks, the army, while divided against itself and some of the key political players, was not against the Durbar, which even the seasoned British failed to understand. Their assumption that the restlessness of the Sikh forces was directed against the Durbar could not have been more wrong; their resentment was directed at the British who were trying to impose their will on the Khalsa, which would have none of it. This misreading of the army’s temper and the mood of the resurgent Khalsa would take a heavy toll not only of British lives on the battlefield but also of their pride and myth of invulnerability. Sher Singh had been quite incapable of grasping the complexities of the unfolding situation.

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The only aspirant left to the throne of Ranjit Singh after Sher Singh’s death was five-year-old Dalip Singh, Ranjit Singh’s acknowledged son by Rani Jindan. Born on 4 September 1838, he will for ever remain a tragic figure of history. He was ten months old when his father died. His mother Jindan Kaur, although not born into a privileged family, was a remarkably intelligent and attractive woman with a ‘ready wit and lack of sexual inhibitions, [which] made her well qualified to organize the more outlandish entertainments of the court’.21 Dalip may not have been Ranjit Singh’s legitimate son but was very much an heir to his father’s throne when the time came for him to claim his rights. He continued to live in the palace at Lahore with his mother through the reigns of Kharak Singh and Sher Singh, but she made sure he kept a low profile which would help him stay out of harm’s way. In those unsettled times anyone who was seen as a claimant to what others coveted was in mortal danger. As a British historian has noted: ‘Probably no one believed that Dalip was the son of Ranjit Singh; but, on the other hand, no one could prove that he was not; and that alone was sufficient to render him a dangerous weapon in the hands of such a master of intrigue as Ghulab Singh.’22

The shrewd Rani Jindan Kaur, seeing all the signs of trouble at court, had taken her son Dalip Singh to stay with Gulab Singh at Jammu after Ranjit Singh’s death. But she knew that Lahore was where she had to be to get her son on the throne. So despite the relentless struggle for power which had become routine at the Lahore Durbar it was not long before Jindan returned to it with her son. Her remarkable self-confidence and tenacity of purpose enabled her to weather the many ruthless plots and subplots which were being hatched all the time by the aspirants to power.

She not only managed to survive all of them but also became regent to keep the way to the throne open for her son. He was crowned on 18 September 1843 and at the age of six became the Maharaja of Punjab and its vast territories. He would never have made it without the astonishing skill with which his mother dealt with the devious ways of the Lahore Durbar and its key players. But even this forceful woman was to meet her match soon. Not in the form of her own countrymen, whose ways were familiar to her, but of those from a distant land who were waiting on the sidelines to acquire the territories, treasures, natural resources and rare antiquities of her country by whatever means they could. They had not sailed thousands of miles to acquire wealth by signing treaties and such. Treaties were fine as long as they served their purpose; the Sutlej Treaty of 1809 was no longer relevant, with the East India Company’s acquisition of Sind and navigation rights on the Indus along with many other advances. The 1809 treaty with Ranjit Singh had already been sidestepped through deft manoeuvres and weasel words.

If they had managed to get away with such tactics even in the time of Ranjit Singh – who was fully a match for them – the strife-torn self-centred men who succeeded him were no match for the seasoned British, who now perceived that the time had come for them to annex Punjab, the most strategic state in India with its rivers and mountains, which was crucial for them to control if the security of the subcontinent they had conquered was to be assured.