2

Retribution and Consolidation 1708–1799

The seeds sown in Punjab’s violent landscape were ripening. The rage of the Sikhs was about to take its toll of men whose disdain for human decencies had bred intolerance and hatred which would now lead to a counter-offensive the intensity of which would help bring down an empire that had flourished as few others.

Every stretch of the journey since the concept of meeri-peeri —that the faith must possess both temporal and spiritual authority—was first accepted had brought the Sikhs nearer the ideal of a life free of capricious feudal rule. Their insistence on military training, on spirited resistance to tyranny, on individualism, on equality and democratic decision-making, on the creation of the Khalsa itself, were milestones on the journey to a Sikh state. And Banda Singh was the man destined to lay its foundations.

Banda was an inspired choice of leader for the impending confrontation with the Mughals. Probably born in Kashmir in 1670, he had been a farmer in his early years, becoming an experienced hunter thoroughly proficient with firearms. He had then turned to the ascetic life and the practice of yoga, settling in the southern city of Nander, a centre of Hindu learning, where Gobind Singh had met and converted him a month before his death. The Guru had rekindled the intensely passionate nature that lay beneath the man’s sadhu exterior. Once converted to Sikhism, Banda projected a sense of formidable power during the next seven years that witnessed the emergence of militant Khalsa assertiveness. When he left the South for the long journey to Punjab, however, he had only twenty-five persons with him—the five panjpiyare, Binod Singh, Kahan Singh, Baj Singh, Daya Singh and Ram Singh, and twenty other Sikhs.

His strength, of course, lay in Guru Gobind Singh’s hukamnamahs (directives) to the various Sikh sangats, directing them to rally around Banda Singh’s banner. As symbols of authority the Guru gave him five arrows from his own quiver, a nishan sahib (flag) and a nagara (war drum). Armed with these the handful of men left Nander to seek their destiny in the northern reaches of Hindustan at the end of 1708.

Cautiously making their way through Delhi after a journey of several months, Banda and his group headed for Punjab, where his emissaries had already delivered the Guru’s hukamnamahs to the Malwa, Doaba and Majha regions, as a result of which a steady stream of Sikhs had started to join them. Even though Mughal forces had prevented reinforcements north of the Sutlej from fording the river, men from the Malwa region south of it had reached him. After several successful if small-scale military actions, Banda headed for Samana, a town of hateful memories for all Sikhs. It was home to Sayyed Jalal-ud-Din, who had executed Guru Tegh Bahadur, and Shashal Beg and Bashal Beg, executioners of Guru Gobind Singh’s younger sons. A heavily defended and fortified town, Samana and its military commander were scornful of the rag-tag force they had been warned against. On 26 November 1709 they were in for a surprise.

Banda’s lightning assault that morning was so sudden that the attackers were in the town before the defenders had time to close the gates. According to one account “pools of blood flowed through its drains,” while another places the number killed at 10,000. What contributed to the bloodshed was the long oppressed peasantry which, seeing the citadel of their oppressors open, joined Banda’s force and wreaked terrible vengeance on them.

Leaving Bhai Fateh Singh as the commander of the town and the region around it, Banda next stormed Ghuram, Thaska and Mustafabad. Each Sikh victory added to his mystique and gave the populace confidence in its own power, a discovery made possible by his fearless feats. “A will was created in the ordinary masses to resist tyranny and to live and die for a national cause,” as two Sikh historians have it. He was also seen as a champion of the oppressed: “The example set by Banda Singh . . . was to serve them as a beacon light in the days to come.” When on his way from Mustafabad to Sadhaura, he heard of the indecencies which Qadam-ud-din, profligate ruler of Kapuri, was prone to inflict on the region’s Hindu population, the ascetic Banda—angered by that ruler’s excesses—decided to punish him. Kapuri was destroyed and Qadam-ud-din perished with it. The prosperous town of Sadhaura, which had an equally infamous ruler, Osman Khan, was Banda’s next destination. This man had tortured and killed the Muslim divine Pir Budhu Shah because he and his four sons and several hundred men had helped Guru Gobind Singh in the Battle of Bhangani. The Sikhs’ anger was further honed by reports of Osman Khan’s atrocities against the Hindus. Ironically, Sadhaura, the abode of sadhus, had once been a Buddhist holy centre. The sack of Sadhaura was no less bloody than that of Samana.

As Banda’s daring raids led to the annexation of more towns and territories, the Sikhs’ old enemy, Wazir Khan, governor of Sirhind, fearful of the Majha and Doaba Sikhs joining up with Banda, now ordered a pre-emptive attack on the northern contingent near Ropar on the left bank of the River Sutlej. After a bloody battle and fearsome slaughter, with most of the Muslim commanders being killed and their forces routed, the memorable meeting between the northern and southern Sikh contingents took place in the vicinity of Ropar.

Sirhind, principal town of the south-east Punjab, was the goal now. To Banda as to all Sikhs, it represented the bestiality of its governor, who had bricked up Guru Gobind Singh’s two young sons alive there before putting them to the sword. It was clear to every Sikh that the time had come for Wazir Khan to render an account for this act. “Of all instances of cruelty exercised on the propagators of new doctrines,” observed James Browne in the pre-Independence journal India Tract, “this is the most barbarous and outrageous. Defenceless women and children have usually escaped, even from religious fury. No wonder then, that the vengeance of the Sikhs was so severe.”

Though the Sikhs were fewer in numbers, arms and ordinance, and the well-equipped Mughal force with its muskets, heavy guns, mail armour, cavalrymen and war elephants was far superior, Banda’s force excelled in swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat, backed by archers and spearmen. What fuelled their drive most was their implacable sense of purpose, which their foes lacked. Wazir Khan’s army in the Battle of Chappar Chiri is estimated at 20,000 men, while no clear record exists of Sikh forces. Their strength is difficult to determine since sizeable numbers of peasantry and freebooters brought up the rear—to settle scores for past wrongs or simply to loot. The core of fighting men on the Sikh side, it is generally agreed, were far fewer than the enemy’s force.

The two forces, commanded personally by Wazir Khan and Banda Singh, clashed on the plain of Chappar Chiri, ten miles from Sirhind, on 22 May 1710. Not unexpectedly, the ferocity of the fighting and carnage outstripped all previous encounters between Sikh and Mughal forces. Wazir Khan and several of his commanders were killed and according to Khafi Khan, a chronicler of the time, “not a man of the army of Islam escaped with more than his life and the clothes he stood in. Horsemen and footmen fell under the swords of the infidels [Sikhs] who pursued them as far as Sirhind.” The defences of Sirhind fort were breached two days later, but over 500 Sikhs lost their lives while taking the fort, mainly while trying to silence its heavy guns. Although Sirhind paid a price, it was spared total destruction after its Hindu population appealed to Banda Singh. (But its reprieve was short-lived; a little over 50 years later Sardar Jassa Singh Ahluwalia would be less forgiving of the town’s past misdeeds.)

Most writers and Mughal court chroniclers have left lurid accounts of Banda Singh’s “atrocities” during the seven years of his whirlwind campaigns. Yet according to a Mughal source of the period, “after the occupation of Sirhind [the Sikhs] issued such strict orders as not to permit even the killing of a single animal.” On the other hand, Emperor Bahadur Shah directed Bakhshi-ul-Mummalik Mahabat Khan to issue edicts to the fauzdars, the officials in charge of policing country highways, “to kill the worshippers of Nanak wherever they were found,” and Farrukh Siyar, Bahadur Shah’s son and successor, reconfirmed the directive.

Bahadur Shah also ordered jiziya (tax) from Nanak-worshippers to be raised at double the normal rate. Revenue considerations, he cannily decided, could not be overlooked in case his extermination policy failed. But, to quote the same contemporary Mughal source again, “despite the anti-Sikh and anti-Hindu measures of the Mughal government, Banda Singh did not reduce his struggle to the level of a communal strife. His was a political struggle. He would not, therefore, impose any religious restrictions upon the Muslims . . . the struggle of Banda Singh was only directed against the tyranny of the local Mughal officials in Punjab, and their high-handedness was resented and opposed not only by the Sikhs and Hindus but also by the Muslims who joined his army in thousands to fight against the Mughal government.”

After annexing Sirhind, and before other towns and territories fell to him, Banda appointed Baj Singh of Nander as its governor, and Ram Singh as governor of Thanessar; both these appointments were aimed at consolidation and effective administration of conquered territories. The next to fall to Banda’s forces were the towns of Rai Kot, Saharanpur, Jalalabad, Ludhiana, Jullundur, Hoshiarpur, Batala, Kalanaur and Pathankot. These conquests took him to the very gates of Lahore and he was now in control of most of Punjab lying east and south of Lahore as far as Karnal and not very far from Delhi. “There was no nobleman daring enough to march from Delhi against them,” comments the Mughal source.

Developments in Punjab were making Emperor Bahadur Shah uneasy. He felt that “a popular rising, such as that of the Sikhs, in a part of the Empire so near the capital, might have more serious and far-reaching consequences . . .” His concern grew as news of Banda’s victories was brought to him in Ajmer, where he had stopped for a while on his way back from the Deccan after subduing his brother Kambakhsh. Distressing reports of Mughal defeats were conveyed in person by nobles from Samana, Sadhaura and Sirhind who arrived to tell him of their plight following the fall of their strongholds. Bahadur Shah, convinced it was time to lead a jehad in person against the Sikhs, reinforced his troops with levies from Oudh, Moradabad, Allahabad and Barha, and in August 1710 set out with a huge imperial army.

After taking Sadhaura, Banda chose the fort of Mukhlispur—built in the time of Emperor Shah Jahan and occasionally used by him as a summer retreat—as capital of the emerging Sikh state. Half-way between Sadhaura and Nahan, Mukhlispur was built on a promontory on the lower slopes of the Himalayas, surrounded by ravines and two small streams. Banda Singh restored the crumbling citadel, renamed it Lohgarh, and planted the flag of the Khalsa on its ramparts. This was the first time the Sikhs had claimed a region as their own. To give Lohgarh added authority as the administrative capital of their territories, an official seal and coins were engraved to celebrate Sikh rule. But unlike the seals and coins of the Mughals which exalted Mughal rulers, Banda’s were dedicated to Guru Nanak and Guru Gobind Singh. The Persian inscription on his seal read:

Degh O Tegh O Fateh O Nasrat-i-bedirang
Yaft az Nanak Guru Gobind Singh.

The inscription eulogized the kettle (representing Sikh commitment to feed the poor), the sword (the symbol of power), victory and unqualified patronage as attributes bequeathed by Nanak to Guru Gobind Singh.

Nothing less than the annihilation of both Lohgarh and Banda, whose audacious conquests were causing extreme concern to the court at Delhi, was the aim of the vast imperial horde which an alarmed emperor was now leading into Punjab. There were 60,000 horsemen, of whom 31,000 were commanded by the emperor’s eldest son, the rest being placed under three key commanders. In addition to these were the foot soldiers. Opposing them were 3,000 Sikhs on horseback and 2,000 on foot. After bloody battles at Sadhaura and Sirhind—from where cartloads of Sikh heads were sent for the emperor’s edification—and despite the widely acknowledged heroism of the Sikhs— “the number of the dead and dying of the imperialists was so large that for a time it seemed they were losing ground . . .” remnants of the Sikh force had to retreat to the fort of Lohgarh.

Lohgarh was besieged by over 60,000 imperial troops on horse and foot, on whose fringes were a number of plunderers including Afghans and Bilochs. Defending the citadel were 2,000 to 3,000 Sikhs. Despite the odds, and amidst bitter hand-to-hand fighting, the Sikhs held out long enough for Banda and a few of his followers to escape. An incensed emperor who had been overseeing the siege himself saw this as a personal affront and an act of disobedience, since he had specifically ordered Banda to be brought in chains before him. He wished to climax his campaign by so sealing Banda’s fate as to deter others for all time. Since Banda had escaped through the lands of some of the hill rajas, he punished them as well as his own commanders. “It matters not,” said Bahadur Shah peevishly, “where the dog has fled to, whether he is drowned in the river or hiding in a cave in the hills . . . the Wazir [Munim Khan] has bound himself to produce the rebel, and produce him he must.”

But Banda was in no mood to fall in with any of Bahadur Shah’s wishes. Within a fortnight of his escape from Lohgarh, he issued hukamnamahs to the Khalsa throughout the country “calling upon them to join him at once . . . and before long he felt himself strong enough to undertake military expeditions against the offending Hindu chiefs of the Shiwaliks.” The “offending chiefs” were the same rajas who had sided with the Mughals so often in the past and had also refused him help. Principal amongst them was the Raja of Kahlur, an old foe of the Sikhs. The canny raja, in anticipation of a Sikh attack, had augmented his force with those of his allies, greatly strengthening Bilaspur’s defences. But to no avail. His defeat cost him over 1,300 lives and a large booty which fell into Sikh hands.

Unnerved by this convincing reassertion of Sikh power, the other hill chieftains now hastened to offer allegiance to Banda. Amongst them was the Raja of Mandi. Convinced of his goodwill, Banda visited his state, then went to call on an equally conciliatory and welcoming Raja of Chamba. Chamba also offered him the hand of a young woman of his family in marriage, and a son named Ajai Singh was born to them at the end of 1711.

Earlier that year, after establishing his power in the Kangra and Kulu hills, Banda Singh had appeared on the plains near Raipur and Bahrampur in a threatening move towards the town of Gurdaspur. A major clash with Mughal forces north-west of Raipur resulted in the defeat of the Mughals. The Sikhs killed their commanders, captured their equipment, overran the towns of Raipur and Bahrampur, and advanced on Batala. In a fierce encounter in which Sheikh Ahmed, who was leading Batala’s defenders, was killed, the city fell to Banda.

With characteristic audacity Banda next thought of attacking Lahore. But with the emperor not too far away in Hoshiarpur, and many of the imperial army’s generals reconnoitring for him, he decided instead to head for the mountainous region of eastern Jammu. The towns of Aurangabad and Pasrur were attacked and subdued on the way and though trapped for a while by the Mughals, the Khalsa fought their way out after inflicting heavy losses on the forces encircling them.

In February 1712 Emperor Bahadur Shah, who had moved to Lahore in August 1711, died. The usual struggle for succession took its toll and Jahandar Shah briefly ascended the throne, but was slain within months by his nephew, Muhammad Farrukh Siyar, who succeeded him in February 1713. In the year between Bahadur Shah’s death and Farrukh Siyar’s accession, Banda and the Khalsa emerged from their fastnesses of Jammu to recapture Sadhaura and Lohgarh. The latter, repaired and refurbished, was restored as the capital of the Sikh state, and remained so for another two years despite repeated Mughal attempts to take back this irksome symbol of Sikh power.

Emperor Farrukh Siyar’s first goal was the destruction of Banda and the Khalsa and his instructions to Zakariya Khan, the new commander at Jammu, were “to expel Banda from Sadhaura or if possible to destroy him altogether.” With the combined forces of the Mughals, with heavy artillery and a formidable arsenal of weapons, against the Sikhs, and with the governor of Lahore personally in command of the expedition, Sadhaura and Lohgarh fell once more to the Mughals. But not before many of their commanders and large numbers of their troops had been killed in hand-to-hand fighting. Eluding capture, Banda Singh and the remnants of the Khalsa once again vanished into the hills.

To celebrate their victory, Lahore’s governor, Abdus Samad Khan, sent his son Zakariya Khan to Delhi in December 1713 to carry the good news to the emperor personally. Zakariya presented the emperor not only with his father’s report, but also with a large number of Sikh heads. The emperor was delighted. Fulsomely praising Zakariya, he raised his rank and gave him several presents including a dress of honour, an aigrette, a banner and a drum. His father, who also arrived in Delhi a few months later, was similarly rewarded. But in June 1714 the two of them were ordered back to Punjab to deal with “that sect of mean and detestable Sikhs.”

Within two months the Khalsa appeared outside Ropar and launched a concerted attack on it. But being heavily outnumbered by the enemy, they just as swiftly withdrew. Clearly, this was part of their war of attrition after the phenomenal losses suffered recently. Their lack of resources could be replenished only through lightning attacks on the enemy’s arsenals, granaries and strongholds.

From the end of 1713 until 1715, Banda stayed in the remote hills of Jammu, about 30 miles north-west of Jammu City. Now called Dera Baba Banda Singh, it lies on a bend of the River Chenab. Whilst the Mughal commanders of Jammu, Sirhind and Lahore kept a wary eye on the Sikhs who were regrouping in the hills and taking stock of their weapons, victuals, men, money and horses, members of the Sikh community scattered across Punjab were at the receiving end of the ruling power’s resentments. Then suddenly, in February 1715, Banda and his men appeared on the plains below Jammu, heading for Kalanaur. Suhrab Khan, Kalanaur’s commander, who met them at the head of an impressive force of regulars, mercenaries and others, was given short shrift and the victors moved into Kalanaur to set up their own administration. Banda’s next target, Batala, was also taken.

News of Mughal reverses and Sikh victories led a fuming Farrukh Siyar to deliver a stunning rebuke to the very same governor of Lahore whom he had earlier rewarded. The alarmed emperor now ordered the largest ever mobilization of his forces for the liquidation of the Sikhs. Farrukh Siyar directed that every Sikh captured should be put to the sword if he refused to embrace the Mohammedan faith, and a good price was put on every Sikh head. As the court’s chronicler put it, “chopped heads of the Sikhs were often sent to the Emperor by the commanders . . . for his pleasure.”

On being informed of the extensive preparations underway, Banda chose to take a stand half-way between Batala and Kalanaur. When the combined Mughal forces and their heavily outnumbered opponents clashed, Banda stood his ground to general amazement, and in the first encounter fought so heroically that he came very near to victory. Hard pressed, he made cunning use of the terrain to make constant changes of position. Khafi Khan records that “the infidels fought so fiercely that the army of Islam was nearly overpowered; they over and over again showed the greatest daring.”

Inevitably, the Khalsa had to fall back again, this time to Gurdas Nangal, a village four miles from the town of Gurdaspur. They hastily built fortifications, since none existed, and cut through the banks of a nearby imperial canal to create a quagmire around their position. The Mughal horde was not long in coming. Even in the annals of those violent times, the siege of Gurdas Nangal, which lasted eight months, stands out as an epic event. Hopelessly outnumbered, starving, sick and suffering, the besieged force fought back with a heroism and tenacity which earned the grudging admiration of their enemy. As the chronicler Muhammad Qasim relates in his Ibrat Namah: “the brave and daring deeds of the infernal Sikhs were wonderful. Twice or thrice every day . . . when the combined forces of the imperialists went to oppose them, they made an end of the Mughals with arrows, muskets and small swords, and disappeared. Such was the terror of the Sikhs . . . that the commanders of this army prayed to God to so ordain things that Banda should seek his safety in his flight . . .”

When the end came, it was not due to unevenness of numbers, although by then there were over 30,000 Mughal troops encircling Gurdas Nangal, but to sheer privation. When the grass and leaves the besieged had subsisted on, and the bark of trees they had ground and used as flour, had all been consumed, and with men dying of starvation, Gurdas Nangal was overrun on 17 December 1715. About 300 Sikhs were executed on the spot, their heads then being “stuffed with hay and mounted on spears” and borne in the vanguard of the victory procession which headed for Lahore. Next came an elephant carrying an iron cage on its back, with Banda manacled, fettered and chained inside it. Then followed his key men and warriors in irons.

When the population of Lahore had had its fill of the “cortège of half-dead prisoners and bleeding heads,” and admired this spectacle of Mughal bravery, the procession reformed for its final destination, Delhi. Zakariya Khan was again deputed by his father to take Banda and the prisoners to the emperor. The ever-eager Zakariya, convinced of the inappropriateness of presenting the emperor with only two hundred prisoners, had the countryside scoured for Sikhs so that the figure would reach a respectable count. He also included cartloads of Sikh heads. In Cunningham’s words, Banda and others “were marched to Delhi with all the signs of ignominy usual with bigots, and common among barbarous or half-civilised conquerors.”

According to another account, by the time the procession reached Delhi on 27 February 1716, it had in the lead “nearly two thousand heads [of executed Sikhs] stuffed with straw and a thousand persons bound with iron chains.” The executions began on 5 March 1716 as a prelude to Banda’s own killing. William Irvine describes the course of events in his Political History of the Sikhs:

“Every day a hundred brave men perished and at night the headless bodies were loaded into carts; taken out of the city and hung upon trees. It was not till June 9, 1716 that Banda himself was led out to execution, all efforts having failed to buy him off. They . . . took him away to the old city, where the red Qutb Minar lifts its proud head of white marble over the crumbling walls of the Hindu fortress. Here they paraded him round the tomb of the late emperor, Bahadur Shah, and put him to a barbarous death. First 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 its quivering flesh into his mouth and hacked him to pieces limb by limb.”

So ended the life of a man who in seven short years had so mocked the might of the Mughals with his victories that they could never again reassert their authority over the land they had once ruled with such aplomb. Though their numbers were tiny compared to the Mughal forces, Banda and his men had wrested extensive territories from the paramount power to establish the first-ever independent Sikh state complete with its royal seal, its own coins and an administrative system. In the near-absence of first-hand written accounts of that period by Sikh chroniclers, the reporting of Muslim and other observers has led to a very distorted picture of Banda, painted by men resentful of his meteoric rise.

One of Banda’s little-known decisions of profound significance— the abolition of the zamindari system—was taken during the brief period of his governance at Lohgarh. The zamindars were landlords with extensive land holdings which their families had either held for a long time or which had recently been given by grateful rulers. The peasants cultivating these lands had no proprietary rights over them; they were mere tillers exploited by the zamindars, and their status was little more than that of slaves. In abolishing this system, Banda made the cultivators (almost all Jats) owners of the land, and the impact of his reform on agricultural Punjab is evident to this day. Since the rewards of their labour go directly to them, Punjab’s farmers have excelled in the energy, endurance and diligence with which they work their land, making Punjab India’s bread-basket since Independence.

Guru Gobind Singh had not only foreseen the inherent weakness of the decaying Mughal state, he had also accurately assessed Banda’s potential for carrying out the Khalsa’s mission of asserting Sikh authority in Punjab. Even though the brutality of the Mughal rulers and the genocide of the Sikhs would reach new levels after Banda’s death, there was no longer any question of curbing the growth of Sikh power. With their rugged individualism, valorous traditions and a lively awareness of their own strength, they would found their own empire at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Much blood would be spilt before the Khalsa fulfilled its destiny, but the way ahead had been shown by Banda Singh Bahadur, or Banda Singh the Brave, as all Sikhs admiringly call him.

The years following Banda Bahadur’s death were dire for the Sikhs, with the implacable hostility of the Mughals, symbolized by Abdus Samad Khan and his son Zakariya Khan, on the one hand, and on the other the Afghans, above all Ahmed Shah Durrani, who were descending like wolves on the weakening Mughal Empire. The Sikhs found themselves geographically between the two. In numbers too they were a fraction of the followers of Islam, and with inadequate weapons and little wealth. The odds they faced in their fight against the Mughals are apparent from the weapons and money recovered from them after the siege of Gurdas Nangal: “1,000 swords, 278 shields, 173 bows and quivers, 180 matchlocks, 114 daggers, 217 long knives, 23 gold mohars, 600 rupees and a few gold ornaments.” But what the Sikhs did bring to the battlefield—as to their everyday lives—was raw courage, endurance, a powerful sense of kinship, and an absolute commitment to the religious ideals enunciated by the Gurus, for which they were willing to sacrifice their lives.

Guru Gobind Singh’s foresight was again evident in the years between Banda Bahadur’s death in 1716 and the founding of the Sikh Empire by Ranjit Singh in 1801. The unswerving acceptance of the paramountcy of the Guru Granth Sahib by every Sikh made for a cohesive bond that held the community together in adverse times, leaving no room for playing sides. The quasi-republican tradition of the panjpiyare, while providing collective leadership, also played an important role since respect for it was a key factor in holding the Khalsa together. No Sikh could think of flouting this tradition, and so the unparalleled violence against them was collectively and unflinchingly faced.

No one persecuted the Sikhs with greater zeal than Zakariya Khan. Eager to obey to the letter the emperor’s decree that no Sikh should be left alive in the Mughal Empire, he zestfully launched a campaign of genocide, intensified when he succeeded his father as Lahore’s governor. His columns combed the countryside for Sikhs, and those captured alive were brought to Lahore for daily public executions. He fixed a reward of fifty rupees for every Sikh head brought to him.

This mindless persecution only helped inflame Sikh militancy, and they retaliated by killing government functionaries and plundering Mughal posts, arsenals and treasuries. Zakariya Khan tried another tactic. In 1733 he offered the Sikhs a jagir (principality). The Sikhs agreed and Kapur Singh was unanimously chosen to head it. It was a wise choice. A resolute and battle-tested warrior who had carried out relentless guerrilla warfare against the Mughals, also a devout Sikh who had made an impressive number of conversions, Kapur Singh was aware that too much blood had been spilt for the truce to endure. So he set about making the most of it.

In 1734 he organized the Sikhs into dals, or groups. The Budha Dal was a force of veterans above forty, while the Taruna Dal consisted of men below this age. The responsibilities of these two—later known as the Dal Khalsa—included guarding places of worship, conducting conversions and baptismal ceremonies, and offering armed resistance to the Mughal state. The Taruna Dal, whose strength soon rose to 12,000, came to take especial charge of the latter, being further divided into five sections, each under a veteran and each with its own banner and drum and having administrative control of the lands conquered by it. These five sections, along with several others, would in later years become Sikh misls whose chiefs, like the barons of medieval times, held absolute sway over the territories ruled by them and enforced their writ with their cavalry and foot soldiers. In times of war they combined to fight their common adversary; at other times they were not averse to fighting each other. In Kapur Singh’s time the dals, although in their early stages, provided Sikh resistance with a much-needed methodology and organization.

Within two years of granting the jagir to the Sikhs in 1734, the perfidious Zakariya sent a force to reoccupy it. He also arrested Bhai Mani Singh, Guru Gobind Singh’s revered and scholarly companion and head priest of the Harmandir, and had him brutally cut to pieces in Lahore. He laid siege to Amritsar and after capturing it, plundered the Harmandir, filled the pool with the carcasses of slaughtered animals, and put it to the torch. An eyewitness account of these events, called the Bansavalinama, tells the grim story in detail. But it was a Pyrrhic victory, for the Mughals overlooked the fact that persecution and martyrdom of Sikhs invariably intensified their resolve to destroy their tormentors. Thirsting for vengeance, the Khalsa regrouped to face them.

A new element was now added to the welter of violence in the disintegrating Mughal Empire. Nadir Shah’s descent on India from Persia in 1739 helped the Sikhs, although they were directly on the invader’s route to Delhi. Taking advantage of the Persian’s sack of the capital and the demoralized state of the imperial court, the Sikhs increased their guerrilla strikes against it. They also plundered the booty from Nadir Shah’s baggage train as he returned home. The sagacious Persian assessed the potential of Sikh self-confidence and valour more accurately than the governor of Punjab was able to do. “Nadir Shah is said to have questioned Zakariya Khan about the brigands who had been audacious enough to attack his troops. The governor replied: ‘They are fakirs who visit their Guru’s tank twice a year, and after having bathed in it disappear.’ ‘Where do they live?’ enquired the Shah. ‘Their homes are their saddles,’ replied Zakariya Khan. Nadir Shah is said to have prophesied, ‘take care, the day is not distant when these rebels will take possession of your country.’”

Nadir Shah’s warning made Zakariya Khan add insult to injury against the outlawed and scattered Sikhs. He encouraged Massa Ranghar, landlord of territories around Amritsar, to take over the Darbar Sahib, the Golden Temple, for his own use. Ranghar opened government offices in some of the buildings, billeted his men and horses in others, and used the Harmandir for performances by his nautch-girls. As he reclined on a couch one evening enjoying the revelries, two Sikhs, Mahtab Singh and Sukha Singh, walked in, and while one kept watch the other beheaded Ranghar.

This inevitably led to more reprisals, to which the Sikhs responded with even greater audacity. One such act was Kapur Singh’s plan to hold Zakariya Khan hostage after a lightning raid on his stronghold of Lahore: “With a force of 2,000 strong, dressed in green, their hair hanging loosely behind in Muslim style and a green Muslim banner in the lead, he [Kapur Singh] entered the city and went to the Shahi Mosque where, according to intelligence received, the Mughal governor was expected to attend the afternoon prayer.” Luckily for Zakariya Khan he missed that visit to the mosque and the Sikhs had to leave disappointed, but not before making their identity known with the resonant Sikh greeting “Sat-Siri-Akal” (which broadly translated means Truth and God are timeless and immortal).

Along with such collective acts of daring were those that reflected the individual’s determination to uphold Sikh self-esteem. The example set by Bota Singh is particularly appealing. Determined to show one and all that his people were far from finished, he chose Punjab’s busiest highway to levy a tax, in the name of the Khalsa, on everyone using it. “It amounted,” as one writer has put it, “to the establishment by an individual of a State—a declaration of sovereignty which, as Sikhs sang in those grim times, had been assigned to them by God himself.” Not content with the road-users’ meek submission to his will, he then issued a challenge to the governor of Lahore, who promptly sent troops to overpower him. Both Bota Singh and his companion Garja Singh fell fighting them.

The persecution of Sikhs escalated further after Zakariya’s death in 1745. His second son, Shah Nawaz Khan, on becoming governor, had the bellies of Sikhs ripped open, iron pegs struck into their heads, and their brains removed in his presence. It was during his governership, in June 1746, that the first ghalughara (disaster)—the massacre of more than 7,000 Sikhs by a large body of Mughal troops—took place. An additional 3,000 were taken prisoner and executed publicly at Lahore.

Shar Nawaz Khan’s successor, Mir Mannu, outdid him in cruelty, imprisoning, starving and torturing even Sikh women and children to death. Mir Mannu’s sadism and duplicity were offered further opportunities by another predator who now appeared in India, the Afghan Ahmed Shah Abdali.

Proclaiming himself Afghanistan’s ruler after the assassination of Nadir Shah in 1747, Abdali invaded India in the following year—the first of eight invasions by him between the years 1748 and 1768. If Nadir Shah had exposed the Mughals’ inability to withstand a determined assault from across Hindustan’s borders, Abdali provided further proof. Claiming Punjab as part of a new Afghanistan, he defeated Lahore’s Mughal viceroy in February 1748. Punjab’s complicated situation became even more confused in the triangular struggle for power. While Abdali dealt the Mughals deadly blows, both wanted the Sikhs destroyed, who in turn no longer saw the beleaguered Mughals as much of a threat.

Despite the ongoing devastation, Sikh control over parts of Punjab tightened. In 1748 the Darbar Sahib, which had been seized by the Mughals, was liberated by Jassa Singh Ahluwalia who had been brought up by Mata Sundari, Guru Gobind Singh’s widow. He had succeeded Kapur Singh as Supreme Commander of the Dal Khalsa. In the clash of arms to liberate the shrine the Mughal commander, Salabat Khan, was killed, the holy pool—which had been desecrated and filled—re-excavated, and the sanctity of the shrine restored. A large congregation of Sikhs declared the Khalsa a state with Jassa Singh Ahluwalia as its head. A small fortress, called Ram Rauni, was built to defend Amritsar.

The respite was short-lived. Having refused to acknowledge Mughal supremacy, the Sikhs were not going to acknowledge Abdali’s. To drive home the point they looted his train as he was returning to Afghanistan after his first invasion in 1748, and increased the frequency and intensity of their attacks each year. Matters came to a head in 1752 when Mir Mannu betrayed the Mughals and switched allegiance to the Afghans, his first act on reconfirmation as governor of Lahore being to make Punjab officially an Afghan province. And in 1757 the Mughal emperor himself acquiesced in the annexation of Lahore by Abdali, along with the provinces of Multan, Kashmir and Sirhind. The Sikhs would have none of it. They had already declared their sovereignty over parts of Punjab in Banda Singh’s time and had reiterated it ever since, and they were now determined to re-establish the parameters of their own Sikh state. That this was greatly resented by Abdali and his satrap made no difference to them.

During the three years of relative peace after the death of Mir Mannu in 1753, the Sikhs proclaimed the Khalsa guardians of the entire Punjab. This defiant gesture added to Abdali’s anger, further fuelled by the system of rakhi devised by them: the word means to “protect” or “safeguard.” In exchange for one-fifth of the land-rent or revenue paid to the state, the Sikhs provided people living in Punjab with full protection. In view of the instability of the times, large numbers of Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs accepted the offer since it was justly administered. This was clearly a direct challenge to Abdali’s claim of sovereignty over Punjab. It helped further to define the contours of a state system, and became a substantial source of revenue for the Sikhs. It also laid the groundwork for the independent groups of Sikhs known as misls, which will be described later.

When during Abdali’s invasion of 1757 the Sikhs not only plundered his baggage train—loaded with the wealth of Delhi and the temple cities of Mathura and Vrindavan—but also rescued hundreds of captive Hindu women and returned them to their homes, Abdali, incensed, ordered his army to repeat Zakariya’s treatment of Amritsar, by demolishing the Harmandir, defiling its sacred pool, and carrying out a policy of genocide against the Sikhs. His commands were faithfully carried out. He also appointed his son Timur Shah governor of Lahore, with instructions to exterminate the “accursed infidels.”

The son’s task was more difficult than the father had expected. As soon as the Afghan army had finished demolishing the Darbar Sahib, a handful of Sikhs assembled at Gohalwar near Amritsar to avenge the dishonour. Electing Baba Deep Singh, who had been baptized by Guru Gobind Singh, as their leader, they fell upon the Afghan forces. The carnage that followed is recounted with awe to this day. The Sikhs fought to the last man with demonic fury, and though mortally wounded Deep Singh hacked his way through the Afghan lines to die on the parkarma of the sacred waters, in sight of the hallowed Harmandir. Pilgrims to the Darbar Sahib still pause in reverence at this spot.

Although periods of relative calm followed, there was no real peace. Fighting spirit being the very substance of Sikh psyche, they spurned any idea of relaxation, and relying more on morale than resources, continued to hit the Afghans when and wherever they could. By this time a new Sikh ally had materialized in the form of the Maratha people from Central India, who at this high-point in their history had swept northward to the very gates of Delhi. They were causing Abdali acute concern, disconcerted as he already was by unrelenting Sikh attacks. Then, on 10 April 1758, the Sikhs and the Marathas attacked together and briefly occupied Lahore. A large number of Afghan troops were killed, and those captured brought to Amritsar to clean the sacred pool they had earlier defiled.

A hukamnamah issued from the Akal Takht, Amritsar in March 1759 ordered Sikhs everywhere to send donations for the reconstruction of the Darbar Sahib. During the following year’s Diwali festival, the Sarbat Khalsa, the representative council of all the Sikhs, met and passed a gurmata (resolution) authorizing an attack on Lahore with the aim of taking possession of it in the name of the Khalsa. The Sikhs bided their time. When Abdali returned to India in 1761 and defeated the Marathas at Panipat, he least expected the Sikhs to pick his hour of triumph to fall on him as he returned home victorious. But that is what they did, and then proceeded to attack Lahore in November of that year, Jassa Singh Ahluwalia taking possession of it. He was proclaimed Sultan-ul-Qaum, sovereign of the state (heralding the state which would actually be founded by Ranjit Singh 40 years later). Jassa Singh withdrew after a brief occupation but not before exacting a tribute for the Harmandir’s upkeep.

Leaving Abdali in no doubt as to where sovereignty in Punjab now resided, the Sikhs decided to subdue and seize the properties of all Afghan supporters and sympathizers there. Alarmed by these developments, Abdali returned to Lahore in January 1762 fully determined to exterminate them this time.

Finding them away—the Sikhs had laid siege to Sirhind—he set out on one of his famous lightning marches to take them by surprise. And this he certainly did. Crossing two rivers and covering a distance of 110 miles in two days, he suddenly appeared before them at Kup, where a battle of unparalleled ferocity was fought on 5 February 1762. Commonly referred to as the Wada Ghalughara (great disaster), the Sikhs were at a disadvantage from the outset. Accompanied by a large number of women and children who were being taken to a safer region in anticipation of Abdali’s invasion, they had to fight from fixed positions, quite the opposite of the high mobility guerrilla tactics they had perfected over the years. This time all odds were against them: numbers, weapons, form of warfare and the vulnerability of their families. Estimates of Sikhs killed—a great many were women and children— vary from 10,000 to 30,000.

The other item on Abdali’s agenda after the massacre at Kup was the Darbar Sahib. Choosing the period of Baisakhi when thousands of pilgrims assembled at Amritsar to bathe in the sarowar, the sacred pool, the Afghan forces struck on 10 April 1762. Once again there was a bloodbath. Abdali filled the Harmandir with gunpowder, blew it apart and razed other buildings to the ground as well. Once again the sarowar was filled with human bodies, carcasses of cows and the débris of destroyed buildings, and a pyramid of Sikh heads was erected on top of it all, the latter being the customary coup de théâtre accompanying Afghan expeditions against the Sikhs.

If Abdali believed he had finished the Sikhs off, however, he was in for a surprise. For almost a year the Darbar Sahib remained in his hands, then, in early 1763, Charat Singh of the Sukerchakia misl— whose grandson Ranjit Singh would establish a Sikh empire and gild the Harmandir with gold—wrested back control of it. Once again the Khalsa gathered to celebrate the Baisakhi festival, and to pledge themselves to rebuild the Harmandir, re-excavate the pool, and punish the defilers. The pool was indeed cleared by the November festival of Diwali, and in this brief period two more battles were fought with the Afghans at Sialkot and Sirhind, in both of which the Sikhs emerged victorious.

At a gathering of the triumphant Khalsa in early 1764 in Amritsar, plans for rebuilding the Harmandir were announced and in a dramatic gesture a large sheet of cloth was spread out and all present were asked to place their offerings for its reconstruction on it. Close to a million rupees—a staggering figure for those times—was collected that day. The administration of the money was entrusted to a few trustworthy bankers of Amritsar, and work on restoring the Harmandir began.

On 1 December 1764 Abdali appeared once again outside Amritsar on his seventh invasion of India, to find only 30 Sikhs in the Darbar Sahib. In the uneven but bloody fight the defenders were killed and their bodies flung into the sacred pool, which was yet again filled with the débris of demolished buildings and slaughtered cows. This was the third and last time the fountainhead of Sikh faith was desecrated—an offence the Khalsa would avenge by hurling the Afghans out of India for all time.

Undeterred, and determined to make Abdali realize that his days were numbered, the Khalsa again assembled at the Darbar Sahib for Baisakhi in April 1765. A gurmata to annex Lahore, the seat of Afghan authority in India, was passed and after a swift military action the Sikhs accepted the city’s surrender on 16 April 1765. This was followed by a Sikh declaration of sovereignty over Punjab. Silver coins were issued to announce their assumption of political power, and in declaring Amritsar as the mint city they underscored the fact that in the struggle for supremacy the Sikhs were establishing new institutions of state while steadily dismantling Afghan symbols of suzerainty.

The Sikhs were now in control of large parts of Punjab and present-day Pakistan, along with parts of what are now the Indian states of Jammu and Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh, and Haryana. Abdali was still not beaten, but his hold on India was broken and while his son, Timur Shah—in charge of his father’s disintegrating Indian domains—scored some military successes in north-west India, he considered it prudent to coexist with the Sikhs for as long as possible. Which was not for long.

At about this time twelve Sikh misls had emerged as fairly welldefined entities in Punjab. By taking on state responsibilities like land administration, increasing agricultural production, land grants, revenue collection and religious endowments, the chiefs of these Sikh principalities established a structure which frequently improved upon and replaced the Mughal system of governance. The convergence of several elements contributed to the form and substance of the misls. Among these the Dal Khalsa, rakhi and the Sarbat Khalsa with its resolutions known as gurmatas played a crucial role in helping shape the misl concept and bring about the Sikhs’ rise to political power in the 1750s and 1760s.

There were both feudal and democratic elements in the way in which the misls functioned. Whilst misl chiefs had absolute control of their territories, Banda Singh’s land reforms had given cultivators stakes in their holdings and a reason to fight in the armies of the misls to which they belonged. The strength of a misl flowed from the contentment of its constituents. As Colonel A.L.H. Polier, a Swiss officer of the East India Company, observed in the 1770s, the possessions of the Sikh chiefs were “exceedingly well cultivated, populous and rich.” Writers like George Forster commented on the “large revenues of the extensive and fertile territories of the Sikhs” and their “state of high cultivation.” Other writers of the period like John Griffiths, William Francklin and John Malcolm referred to the wheat, barley, rice, pulses, sugar cane, cotton, indigo, jaggery and the variety of fruit grown in Punjab. Malcolm also pointed out that “in no country, perhaps, is the Rayat, or cultivator, treated with more indulgence.”

The Sikhs also fostered manufacturing and trade in the second half of the eighteenth century. As a first step Sikh chiefs began rebuilding captured towns and cities devastated by the eighteenth century’s unending wars. Lahore, badly damaged by repeated Afghan invasions, was rebuilt after its occupation in 1765. Similar importance was given to the reconstruction of other conquered cities like Sialkot, Batala, Jhang and Bhera. Among the new towns developed, the most significant was Rawalpindi. Sardar Milkha Singh (Thepuria) expanded what had been a very small village by building new fortifications and making it a major centre of trade and commerce, so that people settled there from many parts of Punjab and beyond.

Other cities developed by the Sikhs in the late eighteenth century include “Gujranwala under Charat Singh Sukerchakia, Fatehabad and Kapurthala under Fateh Singh Ahluwalia, Rahon under Tara Singh Dallewalia, Hallowal under Bagh Singh Hallowalia, Phillaur under Tara Singh Kang, Sujanpur under Amar Singh Bagga, Sayyidwala under Kamar Singh Nakkai, and Nur Mahal under Charat Singh Nurmahilia.” The patronage of the misl chiefs drew people of every description to these urban centres: metal-workers, gold- and silver-smiths, gun-smiths, weavers, traders in most commodities, and buyers and sellers of bloodstock.

Amritsar, already a thriving city, received a further boost after the consolidation of Sikh power. It exported goods to Yarkand, Turfan, Chinese Turkestan, Afghanistan, Bokhara, Persia, Arabia and places further afield. Kafilas (caravans) carried merchandise over regular routes, one such being from Amritsar to Bokhara via Kabul. Articles from Amritsar were first carried to Kabul where traders from Bokhara took delivery and sold them in Central Asia and Russia. Exports out of Amritsar included shawls, silks and woollen cloth, metalware and agricultural products, while imports included gold, raw silk, horses and arms. The trading communities of the city, each specializing in something different, imported a wide range of goods for distribution in Kashmir, Ladakh and other remote areas of the country.

Lahore too, after its revival under the Sikhs, regained its eminence in trading and manufacturing of silks, woollens, carpets, swords, leather goods, boat-making and arms. Multan, Sialkot, Batala and Phagwara, among others, reflected Punjab’s spirit of entrepreneurship.

Not only did the misl chiefs regenerate Punjab through developing its agriculture and economy, but they also reaffirmed Amritsar’s centrality by building their bungas, or residences, around the Darbar Sahib. Whether for spiritual sustenance, planning their unceasing campaigns against the Mughals or Afghans, receiving the Sarbat Khalsa’s sanction for their major moves, or celebrating their festivals, they invariably returned to the elevating environs of the Darbar Sahib in order to experience its magnetic pull and to bow before the dignity and authority of this redoubtable symbol of their faith.

Even after the Sikhs had tightened their grip on Punjab, much remained to be done. The disciplining of the shifty hill rajas was a priority. They were duly brought to heel as was Sirhind which got its comeuppance in 1764 from misl forces under the command of one of the twelve misl leaders, Jassa Singh Ahluwalia. Zain Khan, the governor of Sirhind, was killed in battle and Sirhind was levelled to the ground in retribution for the killing of Fateh Singh and Zorawar Singh, Guru Gobind Singh’s young sons. Sikh authority over several other rajas and chieftains in the region was established by Jassa Singh during this expedition.

In 1768 he overran territories around Delhi, seat of the once mighty Mughal Empire. But it wasn’t until March 1783 that he entered Delhi at the head of a combined misl force, accompanied by a fellow chieftain, Baghel Singh and others. Crossing the river Jamuna at Burari Ghat, they took Malkha Ganj, Sabzi Mandi and Mughal Pura on the city’s outskirts and entered the Diwan-i-Am, the Mughal emperor’s audience hall in the Red Fort. In a symbolic gesture Jassa Singh had himself installed on the imperial throne.

The Sikh forces withdrew after the emperor agreed to pay an annual nazrana (tribute) to them, but returned to subjugate Delhi again in 1785 after the Mughals broke their promises. This time the ruler was made to agree to the construction of several gurdwaras in Delhi to commemorate the events with which Sikh emotions and passions were closely linked. The Mughals offered every cooperation in building them and Sardar Baghel Singh stayed on to oversee their construction on eight historic sites: Sisganj, Rakabganj, Majnu-Ka-Tila, Moti Bagh, Damdama Sahib, Mata Sundari, Bala Sahib and Bangla Sahib.

Sardar Jassa Singh Ahluwalia stood tall among Sikh chieftains for his outstanding qualities of leadership. Each of the twelve misl leaders, while bringing Punjab under Sikh control, carved out substantial territories for himself, capturing city after city to raise the count of Sikh conquests and provide visible proof of Sikh ascendance. Jassa Singh’s domain extended from Kapurthala in the Jullundur Doab to the Majha area across the River Beas. The Bhangi misl included Amritsar, Tarn Taran, Lahore, all the way north to Sialkot, Gujrat and Multan. The Ramgarhias, named after Ram Rauni, the fortress built for the defence of Amritsar, had Qadian, Batala and Sri Hargobindpur in the Bari Doab as well as further towns in the Jullundur Doab.

The Nakkais held sway over lands south of Lahore between the Rivers Ravi and Sutlej. The Dallewalia possessions in the Jullundur Doab included Nawanshahar, Phillaur, Rahon and Mahatpur. The Karorsinghias had Hoshiarpur and the territories around it, whilst the Nishanwalas, flag-bearers of the Sikh Army, possessed Ambala. The Shahids, family of the martyr Baba Deep Singh, possessed territories around Ambala and Saharanpur. The Phulkians controlled Patiala, Sirhind, Nabha and Jind. The Singhpurias possessed Jullundur and many villages in the Malwa region whilst the Kanhaiyas owned territories in the Batala region. The Sukerchakia possessions ranged from Gujranwala to parts of Pothohar and further north.

Motivated as each chieftain was by his own agenda of conquest and consolidation, and despite clashes between them over territory or due to plain greed, the thread that bound them together—besides their unchanging commitment to their faith—was the sense of shared destiny enunciated by the Gurus. Some other aspects of their conduct have been frequently commented upon. “In all contemporary records, mostly in Persian, written generally by Muslims as well as by Maratha agents posted at a number of places in Northern India, there is not a single instance either in Delhi or elsewhere in which the Sikhs raised a finger against women . . .” (Hari Ram Gupta). Nor were Muslims, Afghans or others under them mistreated. Writing of the misl period, the distinguished historian Sir Jadunath Sarkar notes that “the Sikhs had now established their rule over much of the Punjab and given to the people of that province internal security and the promotion of agriculture to a degree unknown for sixty years past.”

But the tyrant would still show a spasm or two before the gateway to India was slammed in his face by the Sikhs, who ended “the stream of immigration of needy adventurers from Turkistan, Iran, Afghanistan and Baluchistan which had supplied to various Muslim kingdoms in this country nearly all of their distinguished statesmen, eminent politicians, illustrious administrators and celebrated generals . . .”

The two men who couldn’t get India out of their system were Ahmed Shah Abdali’s son, Timur Shah, and his son Shah Zaman. Timur was married at the age of ten to the Mughal emperor Alamgir II’s daughter. His relations with the Sikhs were embittered at the very outset when they plundered his train as he was returning home after his marriage in early 1757. Appointed governor of Lahore by his father shortly thereafter, Timur Shah was driven out of Punjab in April 1758 with the help of the Marathas.

After ascending the Afghan throne on Abdali’s death in 1772, Timur spent the first three years tightening his grip on Afghanistan before setting out in January 1775 on the first of five invasions of India. The first did not get him very far into Punjab. And despite Shah Alam II’s urgent invitation to his son-in-law to visit Delhi—he had little power by then—it was not till 1779 that Timur returned to India, alarmed by reports “that a strong army of 60,000 Sikhs . . . intended to seize Derah Ismail Khan, Derah Ghazi Khan and Sind.” To foil this move, Timur concentrated his forces on recovering Multan from the Sikhs in February 1780, which he followed up by building twenty forts along the line separating Multan from Sikh territories.

Even though the aim of the next invasion in the winter of 1780 was to punish his recalcitrant satraps in Sind, Bahawalpur and elsewhere, the Sikhs, numbering about 20,000 horsemen, attacked Timur Shah’s post near Multan and the Afghans sued for peace. The Sikhs realized rakhi before returning to Lahore. Five years later, in December 1785, Timur again entered India on the entreaties of Shah Alam II, who wanted him to shore up his declining fortunes, although he knew it was impossible to reach Delhi since the Sikhs held the lands that lay between North-West India and Delhi. This view was endorsed by James Anderson, British Resident at the Scindias, who believed the Shah’s advance on Delhi was “impossible . . . as the Shah was not prepared to fight the Sikhs, and the Sikhs will not make peace with him.” So Timur returned to Kabul in May 1786 without making any inroads into Punjab.

But the lack of self-esteem of India’s people was pitiably evident in the raja of Jodhpur’s invitation to Timur urging him to send his forces to Delhi to “defeat the Marathas.” The alternative he offered Timur was that “if the Sikhs would not allow him an easy passage through the Punjab, he should march across Multan, Bahawalpur and Bikaner and the Rajput rajas would accompany him to Delhi.” When after his last invasion Timur Shah wished to place his son Humayun on the throne of Delhi, he was supported by the rajas of Jaipur and Jodhpur. During his fifth and last invasion in January 1788, Timur again stayed clear of Punjab: “The Sikhs, whom he had known from his childhood, were avoided by him as far as possible, and he never summoned up the courage to attack them in the heart of their country.”

Shah Zaman, who succeeded his father Timur in May 1793, was even more keen to restore the Afghan hegemony in Punjab that had been imposed by his grandfather, Ahmed Shah Abdali. But he too failed to take into account the power now wielded by the Sikhs. Despite Zaman’s four invasions between 1794 and 1798 and some successes including brief occupations of Lahore, his dreams of conquest came to a sorry end. He enjoyed many advantages over the Sikhs, especially the support of India’s Muslim rulers who were willing to rally around him to help restore Muslim pre-eminence in the country. The Mughals of Delhi, Tipu Sultan in the south, the Rohillas of Rampur, the non-Muslim turncoats of India, all offered him every form of assistance ranging from money and materials to men and equipment.

Even the British, propelled by their own ambitions in India, and aware of the promise Hindustan’s internal conflicts held for them, were opening their lines of communication to Shah Zaman. They had established their hold up to the Indo-Gangetic plain, with a British Resident at Lucknow, and were fearful of the combination of forces that might be formed against them on Shah Zaman’s arrival in India. So the British Governor-General, the Marquis of Wellesley, sent his agent to Shah Zaman’s court in Kabul with letters and “presents of precious commodities of China and Europe, some lacs of Gold Mohars [gold coins] and rupees without number.” His spies too—or “intelligencers” as they were called—were gathering information on events beyond the Sutlej. The British were keen to form their own alliances in case Shah Zaman should break through Sikh territories and reach Delhi. They were greatly helped in their desire to prevent India slipping out of their hands by the immense scope for intrigue offered by the ceaseless infighting amongst Indians.

Since diplomacy and treachery were two sides of the same coin, the British also used Mehdi Ali Khan, an Iranian adventurer in their service in India, to create a diversion in Afghanistan with the help of Iran’s king, Fateh Ali Shah. Mehdi Khan not only successfully prevailed on the Iranian monarch to march into Afghanistan but also persuaded Prince Mahmud of Herat to revolt against Zaman. These developments forced Shah Zaman to cut short his fourth and last invasion in January 1799 and Mehdi Khan received a reward of 300,000 rupees from the British for his efforts. The British, of course, were biding their time for the eventual takeover of India. Since consolidation of Sikh power was at variance with British goals, their strategy called for preventing inroads into India by other powers, while waiting for an appropriate opportunity to destabilize the Sikhs.

The British were not the only ones making overtures to Shah Zaman. Some of the Sikh rajas too, south of the Sutlej and especially of Patiala, were willing to side with him. In a letter to the Governor-General dated 27 December 1796, J. Lumsden, British Resident at Lucknow, reported that “Sahib Singh, the Patiala Sardar, seems to be disposed to unite his interests with those of the Shah . . . [he] is in the habit of maintaining friendly correspondence with the Ministers of the Shah . . .” An accurate assessment, because when Ranjit Singh of the Sukerchakia misl wrote to Sahib Singh urging him to join him after a bloody encounter with the Afghans near Amritsar, Sahib Singh sent no reply, but is reported to have said: “I am a Zamindar. I cannot do without meeting the Shah.” Even more than that, he seemed to be in awe of the invader. When his messengers returned after offering Sahib Singh’s submission and homage to Zaman at Peshawar, and brought with them letters from the Shah, “Sahib Singh received these letters in full court and after applying them to his forehead [signifying profound respect] delivered them to his Munshi to be read out.” It was Ranjit Singh who was now emerging as a consistent foe of the Afghans.

The eighteenth century had taken a cruel toll of the Sikhs. According to one “modest” recent estimate: “Guru Gobind Singh, in several battles fought . . . [with] the Mughals, lost about five thousand of his newly created Khalsa. Under Banda Singh, at least twenty-five thousand Sikhs laid down their lives in their fight against the Mughals. After Banda Singh’s execution, Abdus Samad Khan, governor of Punjab (1713–26), killed not less than twenty thousand Sikhs. His son and successor, Zakariya Khan (1726–45), was responsible for the death of an equal number. Yahiya Khan (1746–47) destroyed about ten thousand Sikhs in a single campaign after Chhota Ghalughara. His brother Shah Nawaz Khan, in 1747, assassinated nearly one thousand Sikhs. Yahiya Khan’s brother-in-law, Muin-ul-Mulk (1748–53), slaughtered more than thirty thousand. These rulers were all Turks from Central Asia. Adeena Beg Khan, a Punjabi Arain, put to death at least five thousand in 1758. Ahmed Shah Abdali and his Afghan governors killed around sixty thousand from 1753 to 1767. Abdali’s deputy, Najib-ud-Daulah, also an Afghan, slew nearly twenty thousand. Petty officials and public must have killed four thousand.” This total of over 200,000 killed does not include those who fell fighting Timur Shah and his son Zaman.

Notwithstanding the long years of savage persecution, the Sikhs emerged triumphant at the end of the eighteenth century. What of their persecutors? On returning to Afghanistan in 1799 after his last abortive invasion of India, Shah Zaman had to face a revolt by his brother Prince Mahmud. Betrayed by his trusted supporters, he was captured and blinded whilst in custody, ending his days in misery as a pensioner of the British.

As for the Mughals, the countdown to their end, which had begun after Nadir Shah’s sack of Delhi in 1739, was hastened by the Sikhs in the north, and by the Marathas and the British to the south, east and west of Delhi. With the British gaining the upper hand, Emperor Shah Alam became their virtual pensioner until he too was blinded by an adventurer, Ghulam Kadir, in 1788. He spent his last years under British protection after the Maratha defeat in 1804. The Mughals continued to survive as British puppets until 1857 when the Indian Mutiny put an end to that pretence. Bahadur Shah, the last Mughal, was exiled to Rangoon where he died as a prisoner of the British.

The British had come a long way. As an Englishman put it in a letter written in 1783: “In the year 1707 when Aurung-Zebe died it may be said without any violation of the truth that Hindostan, whether for its Military Resource, its Wealth or Magnitude, was the most distinguished Empire in the World, and at that period, it is to be noted, that the English were known, only on the Sea Coasts of that Country, and occupied, under many restrictions, merely the Profession of Merchants.”

This situation changed dramatically in the nineteenth century, which witnessed Sikh efflorescence under Ranjit Singh, two decisive wars with these ambitious British “merchants” after his death, and the inevitable sunset of the magnificent Sikh Empire thereafter. Not because of its adversary’s superior fighting qualities but because of betrayals and bitter infighting within Sikh ranks, all too frequently engineered by the British.