DNA

The Great Indian Rebellion began to unravel after the British captured Delhi in September 1857. Subsequently, the British picked off rebel forces in the Indo-Gangetic Plain and Central India, the two major theatres of the Rebellion. The reconquest would not have been so successful if the British did not enjoy Indian assistance. Old wounds and new power dynamics caused Pathans, Punjabi Muslims, Sikhs, Marathas, etc. to earnestly participate in the suppression of the Rebellion. Not many speak about the role of British Army’s Gurkha units and the Kingdom of Nepal in the British reconquest though. Popular accounts of the Rebellion cover only a few key events and personalities. This unfortunately skips over many important aspects of the Indian Rebellion, including its doleful end in Nepal’s Terai region in December 1859.

After their Pyrrhic victory in the Anglo-Nepal War (1814 -1816), the very impressed British began to recruit thousands of Nepalis in newly raised regiments. Gurung and Magar tribesmen were the mainstay, but there were also sizeable numbers of Chhetris, Thakuris and Limbus in these new units. Such ‘Gurkha’ units were peppered among the vast native forces maintained by the East India Company. The homogeneous martial nature and loyalty of Nepali recruits was a result of Prithvi Narayan Shah’s strategies in Nepal’s unification wars (1743-1770). Prithvi Narayan Shah began his illustrious career as a young king who inherited a tiny Gorkha principality. He combined the fighting skills of the mountain tribes with the customs of high-caste groups of the plains. A principle of allegiance termed ‘Dhungo’ (stone), symbolizing a unitary Nepal State, was devised. A militarized pan-Gorkhali or Gurkha identity was created through social engineering and evocative rituals. Loyalty, unit cohesion and discipline were also drilled into the forces, composed of hitherto squabbling groups. Non-combatants were used for corvee labor or in military support functions.
This state nearly defeated the British in the Anglo-Nepal War, earning the latter’s respect and offer of large-scale military recruitment. The British appreciation of Nepali valour and the rather honorable treaty of 1816 made a positive impression in Nepal. Nepal took its commitments with the British quite seriously. When the Rebellion erupted in May 1857 the Gurkha units remained loyal, despite the rebels’ efforts to woo these warriors.

The Gurkhas were competent riflemen and excelled in close combat with their fearsome Kukri knives. The presence of loyal and fierce Gurkha sepoy was a morale booster for the hard-pressed British. The Gurkhas proved their worth in numerous engagements. The Nepal kingdom also sprung to the Company’s aid. When the Rebellion erupted, Rana Jang Bahadur, the de-facto ruler of Nepal, dispatched 3,200 soldiers to aid the British. A few months later, Jang Bahadur arrived with more reinforcements. In the Awadh theatre, Nepal’s army turned out to be very useful to the British.  
By January 1858, Delhi had been long pacified. However, the Rebellion still raged in Awadh and Central India. In March, a joint British-Nepali force captured Lucknow, a nerve centre of the Rebellion. In June, the Rebellion lost two of its tallest leaders: Maulvi Ahmadullah near Shahjahanpur and Rani Lakshmibai near Gwalior. The Central Indian theatre soon fell under British control. Leading Awadhi rebels also began to surrender. However, rebel leaders such as Nana Sahib, Awadh’s Begum Hazrat Mahal, Rana Beni Madho, and Khan Bahadur Khan still refused to yield. This remnant slipped into Nepal, hoping to run a guerilla war from the Terai, a region comprising of lowlands, forests and Himalayan foothills.

The rebels appealed to the Nepali leaders to join their fight against the rapacious British, who had no respect for customs of Hindus and Muslims. However, these appeals were dismissed. Nepal’s leadership did not immediately act against the Indian rebels because many natives of the Terai sympathized with the rebels. Instead, Jang Bahadur got the British to send troops into Nepal. The British obliged – all that remained of the accursed Rebellion now hid in the Terai. When the rebels proved too elusive for the British, Jang Bahadur led his army into the Terai in November 1859. Within a month all rebels were killed or captured: The Great Indian Rebellion was thus unceremoniously snuffed out in Nepal’s Terai. Nana Sahib and a few others had died of illness just before this sad end. The remaining leaders were carted back to India in chains and were summarily hanged. However, Begum Hazrat Mahal, her son, and the rebels’ womenfolk received asylum in Nepal.

Jang Bahadur was bestowed many British honors and decorations, cementing his power. Nepal regained some of the land she lost in 1816 and remained a reliable British ally till the end of the Raj. The Gurkhas, still counted among the best fighters in the world, continue to be recruited by the British Army.

PS: This is my article in DNA published on September 29, 2019. Here’s the link to the original article.

References:

• Gupta, Gautam (2008). 1857: The Uprising. Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India.
• Gurung, Tejimala (2014). ‘The making of Gurkhas as a “Martial Race” in Colonial India: Theory and Practice’. Proceedings of the Indian History Congress, Volume 75, pp. 520
• Mukherjee, Rudrangshu (2002). Awadh in Revolt, 1857-1858. Permanent Black.
• Tyagi, Susila. (1974). Indo-Nepalese Relations (1858 – 1914). D.K. Publishing House.

About a century ago, Captain T.E. Lawrence, better known as Lawrence of Arabia, turned a middling revolt deep in the Arabian desert into a whirlwind that swept away Ottoman power in the First World War. Lawrence was a multi-talented junior military intelligence officer in the British Army. The British leadership was unsure of the Arab Revolt’s chances. However, Lawrence’s liaising skills, his acumen, his brilliant strategies, and his close relationship with the Arab leaders achieved astounding victories. Lawrence’s feat became a benchmark for all operations aimed at bringing down hostile regimes by aiding groups opposing these regimes. During World War II there were similar program in the Asia-Pacific Theatre – including India. Parallel to Britain actions in Arabia, Imperial Japan sent her brilliant officers to utilize Indian rebels and malcontents against their mutual British enemy. Neither power was guided by true concern for their rebel allies; British and Japanese aims were purely imperialistic. The saga of the Indian rebels, particularly that of the Indian National Army under Subhash Chandra Bose, is familiar to us. However, the Japanese angle and the story before Bose’s arrival is less well known.

Japan’s Military Intelligence academy, located in Nakano region of Tokyo, was unassumingly named Army School – Nakano. This school provided training in various disciplines of war and espionage. From 1938 to 1945, over 2,500 agents and operators were trained. This institute would provide the men who would spearhead Japan’s grand strategy for the domination of Asia. The Japanese understood that the native populations of Asian nations chafed under European colonialism. The restive millions could be swayed by promises of liberation. Their more militant rebels could be befriended, funded and trained to aid Japanese campaigns. The fact was that Japan was an ultranationalist and expansionist regime. “Asian liberation” was a mask to hide its imperialist aims. Nevertheless, even a small army of natives fighting alongside them would give Japan legitimacy. Moreover, leaders from such forces could form friendly governments. This strategy was executed by relatively junior products of the Nakano School.

A brilliant and young officer, Major Fujiwara Iwaichi, focused on British India. Unlike most Japanese officers, Major Iwaichi was a polyglot, a scholar and an empathetic person who understood Indian aspirations. With a small group of like-minded Nakano alumni, he established strong links with the Indian and Malay freedom fighters in East Asia. Fujiwara’s organization was christened Fujiwara Kikan (Fujiwara Agency), or F-Kikan. Consequently, when the Japanese invaded British-held Malay Peninsula and Singapore in December 1941, there were uprisings and desertions which collapsed British resistance. Many thousand Indians were taken Prisoners of War: Iwaichi successfully recruited some Indian officers. One of them, Captain Mohan Singh possessed excellent oratory and leadership skills. In a great assembly of Indian prisoners in Singapore, in February 1942, Mohan Singh made powerful pleas which convinced nearly 15,000 Indian soldiers to fight for India. Thus, the first Indian National Army was raised.

The shocked British retreated to India. To engineer more mischief, Iwaichi proposed expansion of operations. However, the Army leadership promoted and transferred Iwaichi in October 1942. Colonel Hideo Iwakuro, co-founder of the Nakano School, took charge. The unit was renamed Iwakuro Kikan or I-Kikan and operations were expanded. However, a weakness in the Japanese strategy became evident. Japanese strategy succeeded when their leading officer was capable and sincere. Iwakuro was a tough veteran, but he was an ultranationalist and openly contemptuous of Indians. Fujiwara’s hand-picked team was also replaced with Iwakuro’s men. Iwakuro regularly clashed with Indian leaders. Indian agents and troops were wasted on ill-considered missions and the momentum was lost. This resulted in plummeting morale and desertions. Factional conflicts among Indians also muddled the situation. In December 1942, the Japanese crushed the dissent by disarming the INA and imprisoning Mohan Singh.

The INA was revived and enlarged under Subhash Chandra Bose following his arrival in the region in May 1943. Iwakuro was replaced by another Nakano alumnus. The unit was renamed Hikari Kikan (Glory Agency). However, bowing to Bose’s vision for the INA as a frontline force, the Japanese unit was restructured.  Moreover, the influence of its Japanese commanding officer effectively decreased.  Nakano School graduates were still attached with INA units for propaganda and covert operations. However, by late 1944 such efforts were ineffective. Besides other stringent security measures, the British had created propaganda units called “Josh Groups” which strongly countered INA propaganda.

The story of Japanese military defeat, Bose’s death and the INA surrender is well known. After the war, most of the surviving Nakano School officers (including Fujiwara) transitioned into post-war Japanese military. Some held out deep in the Asian jungles as late as 1974, unaware of Japanese surrender! In the end the Indian project had failed, unlike their notable successes in Burma and Indonesia, but the men of Nakano School sure gave the British Raj the fright of their lives.

PS: This is my article in DNA published on July 7, 2019. Here’s the link to the original article.

The search and rescue operations for the missing Indian Air Force An-32 aircraft lasted eight days but the crash site was found, and our dead have been laid to rest. The tragedy and ensuing operations unfolded amidst discussions on geopolitics, terrain, logistics, politics, and mismanagement. One dimension that has been largely missing in these discussions is the grim history of military aviation in that region. In the Second World War, India’s North East witnessed crucial battles that decided the fate of the world. The Japanese invasion of India and the Burma Campaign are somewhat familiar to the public. However, in the skies over Arunachal Pradesh and eastern Assam another grim battle had raged. This battle was waged more against the elements than the Japanese. It was all about supporting the Chinese resistance against Imperial Japan – if this front collapsed, over a million battle-hardened Japanese troops would be redeployed to India and the Pacific.

“The Hump” was the nickname given by British and American pilots to the airlift operation that crossed the Eastern Himalayas (mostly) into China, during World War II. It was the world’s first strategic airlift – and it is the bloodiest.  This earned more sobriquets such as “Graveyard of Airplanes” and “The Skyway to Hell” and “The Aluminum Trail”. However, the Hump had to be traversed! Imperial Japan had conquered large swathes of eastern China in 1937. After bombing Pearl Harbor in December 1941, Japan quickly occupied more of China, South East Asia and many Pacific Islands.  Japan seemed unstoppable and could do even more damage (including occupying India and entire Pacific) if not for Chinese nationalist forces under Chiang Kai-Shek and Communist forces under Chairman Mao bogging down over 1.5 million Japanese troops. The Allies were desperate to keep these Japanese troops there: troop redeployment from China meant doubling of Japanese strength in Burma and the Pacific! For this it was necessary to keep supplying the Chinese forces. As the Japanese had captured the ground routes from India to China, supplies had to be flown in.

Not far from the Mechuka Advanced Landing Ground, where the doomed IAF An-32 was heading to, are airfields such as Jorhat, Chabua, Dibrugarh and Doom Dooma. These were the airfields closest to Chinese bases and soon became some of the busiest bases of the War. The India China Division of the Allies’ Air Transport Command soon fielded over 30,000 military personnel and 5,000 pilots. The Hump pilots flew 2000-kilometer round trips, delivering over 650,000 tons of supplies, from early 1942 to 1945. Besides military personnel, there were thousands of Indian laborers who built and maintained these airstrips.

The airplanes were highly vulnerable to the treacherous Himalayan weather. The mountains raised sudden airstreams of 400 kmph speed at extreme altitudes. Turbulence and machine icing could force aircraft to plummet. Sometimes, sudden vertical wind drafts lifted aircraft to over 28,000 feet. Disorientation due to Oxygen loss was common. Even the Commander of the ATC, the famed aviator and pioneering general Henry “Hap” Arnold lost his way and nearly crashed after oxygen loss at high altitude disoriented him. Accident rates were horrendous till the rather capable American C-46 and later C-54 aircraft were deployed. Airlifting was an infant science and most of the pilots were young and inexperienced. This also contributed to the heavy casualties. The allies lost about 600 aircraft and 1,700 men here: the crewmen were killed by the crashes or exposure – or by the odd Japanese fighter aircraft on patrol. Most of the crashes took place in present day Arunachal Pradesh, which had very poor infrastructure then. However, the locals were non-hostile and cooperated with the operations. One of the first modern Search and Rescue organizations was created here by a crew of maverick Allied officers and locals. The successes of this intrepid crew, named Blackie’s Gang, after the leader Captain John “Blackie” Porter, soon turned the motley group into a full-fledged military unit, with ground forces and aircrafts, based in Dibrugarh. By war’s end, 1,171 lives were saved. Search and Rescue training and tactics developed by this unit influence rescue operations even today.

An alternate ground route was opened in early 1945 when Burma was recaptured. However, the terrain constraints made the Hump the principal supply route till the end of the war. In terms of tonnage sent to China, about 80% was flown in over the Hump.

Even today, remains of 7-decade old crashed aircraft are being discovered in remote areas of the state. Many are still missing. After independence, India also lost aircrafts and many souls in this region. However, history has taken a curious turn here. Seven decades ago, Indian airfields in the North East, enabled the Chinese to tie down Imperial Japan. By protecting, basing and sustaining this great endeavor, Indians also contributed to Chinese salvation. However, since 1962, Sino-Indian tensions have further chilled the skies over India’s North East. The Mechuka Advanced Landing Ground was upgraded and reactivated (along with a few more airstrips in Arunachal Pradesh) only quite recently, as a part of bolstering defenses against any Chinese threat to India. It is ironic that the next time the airfields of this region are used for war, it would send very different types of aircraft and cargo into China.

PS: This is a slightly expanded version of my article in DNA published on June 16, 2019. Here’s the link to the original article.

This is the final part of a three-part series on the unfortunate Mughal Emperor Shah Alam II.

It was self-preservation that made Emperor Shah Alam II choose the Maratha general as the regent. Shah Alam’s best and loyal officers were long gone, and he knew first-hand Mahadji Shinde’s capabilities. Moreover, as his plans to rebuild the empire had now stalled, the best Shah Alam could do was to get Maratha protection. Shinde knew that his imperial titles were meaningless – unless he whipped the back empire into a decent state. If he managed this, he could utilize the name of the Mughal Emperor to gather support from every corner of the Indian subcontinent. A few things had to be taken care of. There were some stubborn enemy states nearby, Mughal governors of doubtful loyalty, and rebel generals and roving warlords. Secondly, long pending dues (tributes and fines) from various local powers had to be claimed. To tackle these, Mahadji Shinde campaigned extensively between 1785 and early 1788, in the name of the Emperor and the Peshwa. His son-in-law represented him in Delhi and Maratha detachments were stationed in key cities. Shinde was able to achieve some success, but not without cost. However, an unforeseen threat was fast rising elsewhere.

The Rohila sardar Zabita Khan had died in 1785. He was succeeded by his son Ghulam Qadir, who had been castrated by the Emperor years ago. The talented Ghulam Qadir rapidly rose in power. From his domains in the Upper Doab, he made his move in July 1787, determined to fish in troubled waters. Joining hands with the Sikhs and some Mughal rebels, he captured Delhi. Ghulam Qadir had been apparently damaged irrevocably by his ordeal: he had bouts of extreme rage bordering insanity. He felt he was Rohila retribution personified and called himself Qahar-i-Khuda (Scourge of God). The frightened Emperor “graced” Ghulam Qadir with an audience and bestowed high titles, as the latter glared at him with barely contained rage. A sudden counterattack by the Maratha garrison and allied mercenaries forced Ghulam Qadir to retreat. However, in a few months he returned.

Shinde was in the Chambal Valley when these events unfolded, but he had to wait for reinforcements, which arrived in March 1788. In the next three months he picked off rebel armies and advanced to Delhi. However, by July Ghulam Qadir had retaken the city. The subsequent 10-week interregnum saw unprecedented cruelty and bloodbath. Shah Alam was deposed and Bidar Bakht, son of a formerly deposed emperor, was crowned. Ghulam Qadir used every waking moment to exact his revenge. The royal family was starved and tortured, and every inch of the palaces combed to reveal the riches squirreled away over the years.  They were also robbed of their finery and jewelry. Women faced terrible depredations. The Rohila personally attended to Shah Alam – the emperor was tortured and blinded with needles. Ghulam Qadir later upped this by gouging out the Emperor’s eyeballs while an artist was forced to paint the scene. Twenty one members of the royal family died in the interregnum – some bodies remained unburied.

By October, the Maratha noose tightened, and Ghulam Qadir fled Delhi. The royal family was rescued and Shah Alam reinstated, despite being blind. The Marathas chased Ghulam Qadir and finally captured him in December. He was brought to Mathura and treated well for two months to convince him to produce the Mughal loot. The Emperor now wrote to Shinde, admonishing him for letting Ghulam Qadir live. He swore that if the Rohila was not punished immediately, he would abdicate and leave for Mecca. Shinde could have disobeyed the Emperor and co-opted Ghulam Qadir for his goals, but he was an honorable man and also technically the emperor’s servant. Ghulam Qadir’s eyes, nose and ears were cut off and sent to Delhi. Only after he felt this grisly gift in his hands did the emperor express closure. Ghulam Qadir was tortured to death and hanged in a spot reserved for robbers.

The prestige and power of the Mughals was lost irretrievably. Reduced to near penury, the emperors survived by borrowing and relying on pensions and charity. Mahadji Shinde would continue his impressive career till his death in 1794. Shah Alam held his meaningless title till his death in 1806, his pettiness and appetite for opium and debauchery undented. Following British triumph over the Marathas (1803), he immediately groveled to the new masters. A British officer described the scene: “The descendant of the great Akbar and Aurangzeb was found blind and aged, stripped of authority and reduced to poverty, seated under a small tattered canopy, the fragment of regal state and the mockery of human pride”. The sorry charade of Mughal authority ended in fire and sword in September 1857, and its withered husk in the form of the corpse of Bahadur Shah Zafar II was given a quiet burial in Rangoon five years later.

PS: This is my article in DNA published on May 26, 2019. Here’s the link to the original article.

This is the second part of a three-part series on the unfortunate Mughal Emperor Shah Alam II.

It was 1760 and Prince Ali Gauhar was now Emperor Shah Alam II, but he was not entirely out of danger. His Rohila Afghan feudatories of the Upper Doab and Rohilkhand had a fierce and unruly streak. They had also become too powerful and close to the Afghan Emperor Abdali recently. Awadh, where he remained exiled, was ruled by his feudatory Nawab Shuja. However, this Nawab was a Shia. He was also powerful, practical, and was close to many Hindu powers. The East India Company (EIC) now dominated the East after the Battle of Plassey; early attempts of reconquest had failed. Above all, his father’s killer, Imad-ul-Mulk, and the Marathas held Delhi. Also, an enormous Maratha host had coalesced in the North, bent on conquest. Nevertheless, he had plans to reclaim Mughal glory.

The Islamist clergy was worried by the rapid rise of the Marathas. One of the leading clerics, Shah Waliulllah, invited Abdali to ally with Muslim states and “save India from the Kufr”. Abdali duly launched an invasion, sweeping away the Marathas from the North West Frontier and Punjab. The Rohilas and Mughals saw their chance and recaptured Delhi. Chasing away Imad-ul-Mulk and deposing his Puppet-Emperor, they joined Abdali. In the ensuing Third Battle of Panipat (January 1761) the Marathas were crushed – they would not return north for another decade. However, being wary of the ascendant Rohilas, Shah Alam did not return to Delhi. Moreover, he wished to focus on the eastern provinces of Bengal and Bihar, now under British control. The Rohila chief Najib ad-Dawlah held Delhi, while Shah Alam attempted to recapture the East from his base in Awadh. However, he was no match for the British and lost the decisive Battle of Buxar (1764). He was forced to grant unbridled rights to the EIC. This marked the true beginning of British paramountcy in India. The dejected Emperor spent the next five years as the EIC’s “guest” in Allahabad.

Najib ad-Dawlah died in 1770 after shepherding the empire through great regional convulsions and holding the Marathas at bay. The Rohila chief’s death led to the ascent of his son, the scheming and unpopular Zabita Khan. He made secret overtures to the Sikhs to compensate for his lack of support within the empire. About this time, the resurgent Marathas returned to the north. Despite crippling factional politics, the Marathas under the great general Mahadji Shinde ousted the Rohilas from Delhi in 1772. The Emperor now reached out to Shinde – he would bestow imperial favor if he would escort him safely to Delhi. Jagirs and rich tributes would also be awarded to the Maratha leaders. Thus, after 13 years of exile Shah Alam II returned to Delhi, albeit under Maratha aegis. He was not yet the master of his fate, but at least he was back.

Shah Alam immediately turned against Zabita Khan. A Maratha-Mughal expedition into Zabita Khan’s lands in the Upper Doab was launched. Zabita Khan was defeated and lost much territory. Other Rohila chiefs were suppressed with British aid in the First Rohila War (1773-1774). A seething Zabita Khan soon allied with the Sikh Sardars, but a subsequent Mughal expedition destroyed Zabita Khan’s rump kingdom in 1777. Zabita Khan fled with his Sikh allies, but his heir, the very young Ghulam Qadir was captured. The Rohila chief’s womenfolk were dishonored and male relatives massacred. Ghulam Qadir was spared by a high-ranking eunuch official and was made Shah Alam’s page.

Various accounts attest that the Emperor’s character began deteriorating around this time. A lifetime of fear, hardship and losses had taken its toll – his increasing opium addiction and debauchery was also to blame. Shah Alam began to mistreat noble captives and his kin the Salatin Quarters – where he himself suffered during his youth! One day he claimed that the handsome Ghulam Qadir was seducing the noblewomen and plotting his assassination; the teen was castrated and made a harem eunuch. Zabita Khan now beseeched the new regent Najaf Khan to free his family in return for ransom and his total submission. The regent granted this plea and Zabita Khan submitted for good. Ghulam Qadir’s ordeal would however come back to haunt the emperor in 1788, and those catastrophic events would finally end Mughal power and prestige.

For now, the Mughals had recouped some lost strength. Even with the emperor’s deterioration and endless court intrigues it briefly seemed that under Najaf Khan the Mughals would rise again. However, the Sikhs had grown very powerful and checked Mughal expansion. In a sudden invasion following Najaf Khan’s death in 1782, the Sikhs even sacked Delhi. Unable to find good men to serve and protect the empire, the emperor requested his old ally Mahadji Shinde to become the empire’s regent in 1784.

PS: This is my article in DNA published on May 19, 2019. Here’s the link to the original article.

This is the first part of a three-part series on the unfortunate Mughal Emperor Shah Alam-II

When Aurangzeb died a weary and broken man in Ahmednagar in 1707, the Mughal Empire had reached its greatest territorial extent. However, the financial ruin due to Aurangzeb’s wars, the grim foes raised by his inflexibility and zealotry, and the poisoned legacy he bequeathed were enough to shatter the once powerful empire. In the next 150 years, thirteen emperors reigned. These were lesser men, tossed around by powerful nobles and factions – and even by enemies old and new. After all, the name of the Mughal Badshah still had some utility and commanded respect across the subcontinent. This trilogy of articles is about Shah Alam II, ultimately the most wretched emperor of them all. If he sounds familiar it’s because he is the subject of that famous saying – “Sultanat-e-Shah Alam, Az Dilli ta Palam”. While the weak emperors before him had definitely caused the empire’s decline, it was during the long reign of Shah Alam II that Mughal power and prestige was irretrievably lost, after a brief glimmer of hope. While other emperors had been deposed, blinded or assassinated, Shah Alam suffered much greater horrors. He also suffered the ignominy of serially supplicating to Indian factions and the British. The imperial cities of Delhi and Agra were raided and looted multiple times. In the first part of the trilogy we look at this emperor’s rise from captivity and hardship. Next, we look at his efforts and machinations to rebuild the empire. The final part covers a horrific interregnum in 1788 and the ensuing total collapse of the Mughals.

Hidden away from the resplendent courts and palaces, the Red Fort housed a grimy slum called the “Salatin Quarters”. Here, hundreds of Mughal princes and princesses languished in pitiful conditions. These quarters had developed in the post-Aurangzeb era, a symbol of all what was wrong with political succession in the Mughal Empire. Any male of royal descent (and there were many of these!) could be propped up by powerful factions, leading to Civil War. To avoid this, all descendants of former Emperors were confined to the Salatin quarters and kept under close watch. As the prosperity of Mughal Empire declined, so did the budget for the already spartan quarters. It soon devolved into a squalid and overpopulated slum with no arrangements for education, nourishment and sanitation. Many princes and princesses went degenerate or mad in this dungeon. Shah Alam II, born Prince Ali Gauhar, son of Prince Azizuddin and grandson of Emperor Jahandar Shah, was born and raised in this bleak place.

Prince Azizuddin was imprisoned in the Salatin Quarters after his father was deposed and killed in 1714. The next forty years saw five emperors on the throne, four of these were deposed by powerful kingmakers. Unlike other princes in the Salatin quarters, Azizuddin did not lose his wits nor become degenerate; he focused on the scriptures. His son, Ali Gauhar, born in 1728, also turned out well. In 1754, Imad-ul-Mulk, the Empire’s Regent and virtual ruler, deposed and blinded the reigning emperor. He foisted the devout and ageing Azizuddin on the throne and crowned him as Alamgir II. Ali Gauhar went from a prince of the gutters to the Crown Prince overnight.

Alamgir II reigned till 1759, without much power, despite his efforts. His efforts to neutralize the powerful regent Imad-ul-Mulk caused a chain of events leading to the terrible interregnum that would finally ruin the Mughals years later. When the Afghan Emperor Ahmed Shah Durrani (Abdali) invaded India in 1757, Alamgir fled to the Punjab to ally with the invader to defeat Imad-ul-Mulk. The Rohila Afghans of the Ganga-Yamuna doab and Rohilkhand had served Alamgir so far. They however found a better leader in Emperor Abdali, a fellow Afghan, and gravitated towards him. Now, Imad-ul-Mulk invited the Marathas to “save the Emperor from the vile Afghans”. The Maratha forces surged forth and swept away all opposition, even reaching Peshawar. Imad-ul-Mulk established a good relationship with Raghunathrao and Sadashivrao “Bhau”, the Maratha commanders. The Rohilas retreated from Delhi and the Emperor fled to the Jat kingdom of Bharatpur; the Jats then sacked an undefended Delhi as payment. The Maratha army later occupied Delhi and sacked it again.

Alamgir II was forced to return to Delhi, under the baleful eyes of the regent: the emperor’s days were clearly numbered. Fearing for his life, Crown Prince Ali Gauhar made a daring escape to Awadh. The Nawab of Awadh, Shuja-ud-Daulah, gave him shelter. This angered Imad-ul-Mulk, who murdered Emperor Alamgir II and most of his family in November 1759. Imad-ul-Mulk and Bhau picked another wretched prince from the Salatin Quarters and crowned him as emperor Shah Jahan III. However, a few weeks later in Awadh, Prince Ali Gauhar was anointed Emperor Shah Alam II by his supporters.  

PS: This is my article in DNA published on May 12, 2019. Here’s the link to the original article.

When the British rose in power in India they faced an increasingly difficult situation – there were too many young British men in their colony. India was a land of opportunity for many Britishers and thousands scrambled to India, keen to make their mark. British men were strongly discouraged from marrying Indians in order to maintain notions of British exceptionalism and supremacy. However, the men’s need for female long-term companionship had to be met. On the other hand, women in Britain faced steep matrimonial challenges in their sexist society. As a result, thousands of single young women sailed to India to find suitable husbands. This was derisively nicknamed the “Fishing Fleet”, a phenomenon alluded to in many cultural depictions of Colonial India, but largely unknown outside academic research.

Before India was completely subdued there existed marriage relationships and significant intermingling between the British and Indians. However, following British ascendancy (from the 1750s), British respect and awe of India began to slowly wane. With racist and imperialistic ideologies strengthening, India’s stature dropped. Indians were now seen as racially inferior heathens to be ruled by the superior British race. The gap between the rulers and the ruled had to be kept sacrosanct. The races could not be allowed to mix anymore – and the few who broke this rule were ostracized. After the Great Rebellion of 1857 and formation of the British Raj, the divide became very severe.

The East India Company (EIC) leadership initially chose an old Portuguese solution. Long ago, the Portuguese shipped orphaned girls to India as brides for Portuguese men serving there. The government provided dowries, in the form of jobs for the husbands when the couple returned. Due to practical difficulties, the Portuguese stopped this and found brides locally. However, the British possessed more resources and newer technologies of healthcare and transportation. The first batches of women they shipped to India were adventuresses (or were of questionable reputation), or orphans from gentle families. The Company supported them for one year, the time allocated to find husbands. The unsuccessful were quickly shipped back. As Britain began to rise to paramountcy, the number of women sailing to India slowly increased, even without the Company’s direct involvement. The bureaucrats and company administrators in London derisively called this the “Fishing fleet”.

Prevailing social conditions in Britain were also responsible for this phenomenon. In those days, British women had few rights and most professions were denied for them. Some education was imparted, but marriage was seen the only true goal. This alone gave women status and security. Moreover, unmarried women past the age of twenty-five were seen as “old maids”. Without marriage a woman’s prospects were bleak: she would have to live on her inheritance or with close relatives – or work as a governess or caretaker or nurse. Women outnumbered marriageable young men in Britain: a girl not blessed with beauty, money or pedigree had little hope of marrying well. But in India, British men heavily outnumbered women. For many women, this huge pool of clearly enterprising young men – who also keenly sought mates – offered a much better chance of getting a good husband.

As British control solidified and the Crown replaced the Company, India’s reputation as a fishing grounds for “good catches” grew. More and more women began to sail for India. By the 1850s most of the women were sent by their families; a few were returning to India after a brief education in Britain. The girls were escorted and guided by older married women. These prospective brides moved in rarefied atmospheres – the clubs, bungalows, hill-stations, cantonments and churches – of British India. They lodged with friends and relatives, or shared accommodation. The rigid hierarchy of the British society in India, the conformity requirements, and India itself was a culture shock. The need to cultivate the right contacts, the confusing rules of engagement, the constant pressure to act “suitable” took a toll on the women. Even married life as a privileged “Memsahib” in India was not all a bed of roses. Yet, this was apparently better than spinsterhood in Britain. The efforts usually paid off – very few returned to Britain without a husband. The ones that were unsuccessful were derisively called “Returned Empties”.

British women in India did not make much of an impact in the affairs of India. The Raj was a Man’s World and the ICS, armed forces, bureaucracy, etc. were never open to British women. Yet, in their restricted roles as wives, mothers and Memsahibs, the women from the Fishing Fleets helped maintain British rule in India. The Fishing Fleets wound down between 1900-1930s: in this period, women’s liberation movements blossomed. The fetters began to break, and more avenues opened up for women within Britain. World War II and the Indian National Movement’s success finally ended the enterprise.

PS: This is my article in DNA published on April 28, 2019. This is also my 50th piece for DNA! Here’s the link to the original article.

It is a bitter fact that tea became a popular beverage on the back of colossal human suffering. This author had previously written about the triangular Atlantic slave trade, in which Indian textiles and gunpowder were very essential components. Today, we look at how another Indian product, opium, was used in yet another reprehensible business – because of the surging demand for tea in Britain and the prevailing economic philosophy there. Tea and opium became part of worldwide triangular trade that greatly benefited Britain but was disastrous for everyone else involved. In this affair, sugar was a sweetener.  This triangle of tea, sugar and opium nearly destroyed Chinese society and polity and was instrumental in the rise of England as a world power.

In those days, European colonial powers adhered to the economic philosophy of Mercantilism. The goal was to be self-reliant in production; and to ensure that precious commodities such as gold and silver were amassed within national borders. Industries were run by monopolies supported through subsidies and military assistance. Methods had to be devised to pay for imports without letting depleting the stocks of precious commodities. In this context the story of tea and sugar becomes linked to that of opium.

Tea came to England in the 1630s, but for many years it was an expensive commodity as it was grown only in China. For most of the 17^th-18^th centuries, tea was consumed mostly by the elite, as a bitter but flavorful brew. However, tea’s popularity rose quickly. The growth in sugar consumption in Britain 18^th century mirrors that of tea. Sugar was also rather expensive initially. Yet, the demand grew. To meet this growing appetite for sugar, vast plantations were established in the Caribbean islands. Here, countless natives toiled in pitiful conditions. There was also great investment in industrial process in England to yield higher production and to reduce costs. Sugar became inexpensive in the beginning of the 19^th century. Now someone got the idea of mixing sugar into a cup of tea. Soon, milk was added to the brew. The demand for this new concoction exploded: a bitter brew for upper-class tastes quickly turned into a beverage coveted by the masses. This surging demand for tea – plus demand for Chinese silk and porcelain – led to much outflow of precious metals: the British authorities had to stop this somehow.

The British hoped to use the excess land revenue from India pay for tea. However, abysmal mismanagement and corruption in the East India Company (EIC) made this impossible. Bringing tea production to India was an obvious solution, but there were challenges. The British finally succeeded but that is a whole other story! It was then decided to push Indian opium into China. While India’s cotton was also accepted by the Chinese, a nation hooked on opium would yield more profits. Moreover, Indian opium was better than even Turkish opium.

After Buxar (1764), the EIC gained access to India’s opium fields in the Gangetic Valley. The EIC asserted monopoly over these. Much Indian opium was shipped to the China and popularized through various means. Tens of thousands of opium chests were shipped annually. In December 1799 the Chinese authorities banned opium. They had discovered that opium addiction was surging and the toll on the nation was heavy. The EIC now pretended that it had no hand in the opium sale in China. However, it auctioned its opium to private traders (mostly British), who transported opium in ships owned by the Company. The traders smuggled the opium for silver. Most traders deposited the silver in the Company’s factory in China and in return they were given bills payable in Calcutta or London. The Company got a commission on these bills and earned a profit. The Company then used the silver to buy tea. This trade was immensely profitable: Opium became the Company’s largest export item and accounted for 15 percent of its Indian revenue. Britain reaped huge profits and preserved precious metals, which helped industrialization and the growth of her empire. The Company’s opium and tea trade, sweetened by the addition of sugar, also changed consumption patterns.  Rising tea consumption helped sustain the emerging working classes: tea was now cheap, it was easily brewed at work itself, and it was stimulating without being intoxicating. Britain’s revenues from local tea sales were also significant. On the other hand, the opium crisis became unbearable in China and this led to the First Opium War in 1839, in which Britain won. The Treaty of Nanjing forced the Chinese to accept unrestricted sale of opium (which quadrupled soon), pay heavy indemnity, and cede the island of Hong Kong. The Chinese monarchy went into a downward spiral from this point. It would take later Chinese governments many decades and much effort to eradicate opium addiction from China’s society.

PS: This is my article in DNA published on April 14, 2019. Here’s the link to the original article.

The sack of Vijayanagar, following the Battle of Talikota in 1565 CE, greatly enriched the victorious Bahmani Sultanates. Out of the five Bahmani kingdoms the one which gained the most was the Adil Shahi Sultanate of Bijapur. Besides annexing the rich Raichur Doab, the Bijapur Sultanate plundered enormous riches and captured a huge workforce from fallen Vijayanagar. Bijapur was blessed with some capable Sultans who fostered great cultural and economic growth. They expanded the Sultanate’s borders at the cost of the rump Vijayanagar Empire. Bijapur’s sultans also invited talent from across the world into their service. Soon, tens of thousands began to emigrate to Bijapur. As a result, Bijapur City, today’s Vijayapura, grew rapidly. By 1590, Bijapur became one of the most populous cities of the world. Estimates of the city’s population range from 500,000 to 1.2 million at its zenith. However, this growth posed a major challenge – Bijapur city was hitherto the bleak little capital of a middling Sultanate. It was situated in a semi-arid region. So far, the existing water sources had sufficed but now the city required much more water. Colossal hydraulic engineering projects were executed to enable this growth. It was an enormous task, but there was no lack of resources or determination.

Bijapur’s leaders understood the great opportunity – and challenge – for the capital. With Bijapur’s newly won riches, many grand projects and extensive public works were commissioned. High fortification walls (with 96 defense towers) encompassing the existing city and many adjoining villages were also built. The suburb of Shahpur was built to serve as a commercial hub for the traders and merchants who flocked to Bijapur. Shahpur hosted many businesses, workshops, storage facilities, and housed the huge transit population. The Ramalinga reservoir, a derelict ancient earthen dam was comprehensively upgraded. This reservoir was rejuvenated using jack-wells (intake constructs that tapped both surface and underground water) at the seasonal water-courses of Toravi, west of Bijapur. This enormous reservoir was replete with canals and water filtration plants. However, even this large water source was not enough.

The Sultans had to actively present themselves as the giver of water in the arid land, a spectacle that reinforces their power over the people. Ornate and elaborate fountains and water-courses were installed at the palaces, the gardens and the plazas. To serve these, headworks were built around Bijapur and a network of pipes and channels laid. Further, the geography of the land was utilized to create a network of ingenious underground water-courses, known as Qanats or Karez. Here, gently sloping channels (with a series of vertical access shafts) were used to tap the water table. This created economical and sustainable underground canals, safe from evaporation and surface threats. The Qanat water was discharged at an appropriate point on the surface, into tanks or surface channels.

Another adjoining city called Navraspur, dedicated to the arts and learning, was built in 1599. The kingdom began to clearly stagnate from the 1650s due to wars and regional politics. However, the Bijapur metropolis was still a major commercial and cultural center – and the water requirement kept growing. A 240-acre reservoir named Begum Talab was constructed in 1651. The water was supplied to the city through deep underground pipes. To prevent overpressure, 40-foot pressure release towers were built throughout the network. More reservoirs and tanks were constructed in the next 30 years. Hundreds of Baodis (step wells) were also constructed.

In the late 17^th century, the Sultanate declined steeply. A major setback was the Mughal conquest in 1686. The terrible 18-month siege and the subsequent looting caused irreparable damage. However, Bijapur dragged on as a major provincial city for some time. The Mughal collapse in the 1710s-50s brought even more ruin. The city’s decline was not arrested by subsequent Maratha rule. A series of famines and military expeditions by the various Deccan powers further weakened the city. The Pindari raids and Maratha infighting finally led to Bijapur’s total collapse.  When the British took over the region in the 1820s, Bijapur was a veritable ghost town, pock-marked by ruins. Many contemporary sources, foreign and Indian, bemoaned the dilapidation of the city and its great hydraulic engineering works.

Today these ruins still attest to the past glory of Bijapur, the scale of the projects and the determination of Bijapur’s rulers. There have been interesting investigations into Bijapur’s hydraulic past by conservationists, historians, civil servants, engineers and enthusiasts these days. It is believed that the old water networks could be reclaimed to cover Vijayapura’s growing water demand.  Indeed, the Begum Talab and some Baodis were recently repaired: they now serve their city after three centuries of slumber. Perhaps much more would be possible from these great works of the yesteryears. After all, Vijayapura is a growing city in a semi-arid land – much like Bijapur before it.

PS: This is my article in DNA published on March 24, 2019. Here’s the link to the original article.