PUNJAB: A HISTORY FROM AURANGZEB TO MOUNTBATTEN
Rajmohan Gandhi
Aleph Book Company;
432 pages; Rs 695
Punjab is a "consumerist" state. People here, any businessman will tell you, believe not in saving for the future but in consuming: cars, clothes - the works. They say the turbulent past of the land has shaped this mindset. Invaders in the Middle Ages came to India via Punjab, looting and pillaging whatever fell in their way. The lesson people learnt was: enjoy life while you can because you don't know what calamity might befall you in the days to come. To understand the present and anticipate the future, it becomes important to know the past.
Now, the history of Punjab has been told and retold so many times, in short stories and in novels; so there is little that Rajmohan Gandhi could have uncovered. Even so, his book is a treasure trove of information. That's because Mr Gandhi has infused the narrative with fresh perspective. The book will also help you understand why the two Punjabs, one in India and the other across the border in Punjab, have followed different trajectories in recent years. While Indian Punjab has largely been able to rid itself of the scourge of terrorism, Pakistan's Punjab is getting sucked deeper and deeper into it.
Mr Gandhi covers the period from the death of Aurangzeb, the last Great Mughal, in 1707 to the partition of the subcontinent in 1947, presided over by Mountbatten. The central character of Punjab's history, from the Indian perspective, has always been Ranjit Singh, who became the Maharaja of Lahore at the young age of 19 in 1799. (He was born near Gujranwala, now in Pakistan, and died in Lahore, also in Pakistan.) He would rule over Punjab till his death 40 years later in 1839. He was an able army commander: his forces were known as the finest in the whole of Asia. He was inquisitive. European travellers recounted how he bombarded them with hundreds of questions. He was an astute politician, and managed to keep the British out of his dominions so long as he was alive. Yet, the Sikh empire collapsed soon after his death. Mr Gandhi says that's because he failed to groom his successors. As a result, courtiers had a field day. Treachery was rampant. This was the fatal flaw in Ranjit Singh's rule.
For me, the biggest takeaway from Mr Gandhi's book is the games the British played in the hundred or so years leading up to Partition to ensure that the three large communities of Punjab - Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs, in order of their numerical strength - never got together: divide et impera. Till the middle of the 19th century, the Muslims of Punjab seem to have been passive spectators to the wars that were fought there: between Sikhs and Afghans, Mughals and Turks, Marathas and Afghans. The only military commander of significance to have come up from the community was Adina Beg Khan. One reason for that could be that they felt Delhi and Lahore were ruled by their kinsmen, so there was no pressing need for them to assert themselves militarily.
But that changed with the 1857 Mutiny. With the Bengal Native Infantry in revolt, the British needed to commandeer a new set of people who wouldn't hesitate to take on these men, high-caste Hindus and Muslims from the Gangetic plains. The Muslims of Punjab were one such people. They were quickly labelled a "martial race" and pressed into service. One reason for this, Mr Gandhi says, would be the Punjabis' deep-rooted dislike for the Purabiyas (easterners). Similarly, the Sikhs, who had fought bloody wars with the British not long before the Mutiny and were bitter about the loss of the Khalsa kingdom, were won over on the promise of avenging the wrongs done to them by the Mughal court. They came especially handy in the sacking of Delhi. The beautiful Jama Masjid was converted into the Sikh cavalry's stables. There was even a demand to raze the mosque. Thankfully, it wasn't carried out.
In the years that followed, the British stepped up their army recruitments from Punjab: Muslims, Sikhs and Hindu Jats (present-day Haryana was a part of Punjab then). These were the men from whom the Raj drew its strength. Grateful for the jobs, they remained loyal to their British benefactors all through their lives. In modern parlance, they would be called the brand ambassadors of the Raj at the grass roots. The second set of brand ambassadors consisted of the agriculturists who had been settled in the "canal colonies" of Punjab. These were the people who could always be counted on to support the Raj. It was the landed gentry who also helped in the recruitment drive during the Second World War, which thwarted the Congress in Punjab right up to Independence.
In the final analysis, is Punjab a story of communal harmony or discord? Actually, it's both. Mahatma Gandhi had famously said that the people of Punjab - Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs - breathed the same air, drank the same water, spoke the same language and drew sustenance from the same soil; so where was the scope for any difference? In the villages of united Punjab, there was some sort of equilibrium among the various communities. There might have been differences, but nothing that could lead to mayhem. Yet, the communal discord that led to Partition is also a brutal fact that cannot be swept under the carpet. There was loss of life and property on both sides. Still, amid all the madness, there were stories of great humanity, or insaniyat, in the author's words. He has collected several such stories towards the end of the book, which will make you understand the wisdom of the author's grandfather.
Rajmohan Gandhi
Aleph Book Company;
432 pages; Rs 695
Punjab is a "consumerist" state. People here, any businessman will tell you, believe not in saving for the future but in consuming: cars, clothes - the works. They say the turbulent past of the land has shaped this mindset. Invaders in the Middle Ages came to India via Punjab, looting and pillaging whatever fell in their way. The lesson people learnt was: enjoy life while you can because you don't know what calamity might befall you in the days to come. To understand the present and anticipate the future, it becomes important to know the past.
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Mr Gandhi covers the period from the death of Aurangzeb, the last Great Mughal, in 1707 to the partition of the subcontinent in 1947, presided over by Mountbatten. The central character of Punjab's history, from the Indian perspective, has always been Ranjit Singh, who became the Maharaja of Lahore at the young age of 19 in 1799. (He was born near Gujranwala, now in Pakistan, and died in Lahore, also in Pakistan.) He would rule over Punjab till his death 40 years later in 1839. He was an able army commander: his forces were known as the finest in the whole of Asia. He was inquisitive. European travellers recounted how he bombarded them with hundreds of questions. He was an astute politician, and managed to keep the British out of his dominions so long as he was alive. Yet, the Sikh empire collapsed soon after his death. Mr Gandhi says that's because he failed to groom his successors. As a result, courtiers had a field day. Treachery was rampant. This was the fatal flaw in Ranjit Singh's rule.
For me, the biggest takeaway from Mr Gandhi's book is the games the British played in the hundred or so years leading up to Partition to ensure that the three large communities of Punjab - Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs, in order of their numerical strength - never got together: divide et impera. Till the middle of the 19th century, the Muslims of Punjab seem to have been passive spectators to the wars that were fought there: between Sikhs and Afghans, Mughals and Turks, Marathas and Afghans. The only military commander of significance to have come up from the community was Adina Beg Khan. One reason for that could be that they felt Delhi and Lahore were ruled by their kinsmen, so there was no pressing need for them to assert themselves militarily.
But that changed with the 1857 Mutiny. With the Bengal Native Infantry in revolt, the British needed to commandeer a new set of people who wouldn't hesitate to take on these men, high-caste Hindus and Muslims from the Gangetic plains. The Muslims of Punjab were one such people. They were quickly labelled a "martial race" and pressed into service. One reason for this, Mr Gandhi says, would be the Punjabis' deep-rooted dislike for the Purabiyas (easterners). Similarly, the Sikhs, who had fought bloody wars with the British not long before the Mutiny and were bitter about the loss of the Khalsa kingdom, were won over on the promise of avenging the wrongs done to them by the Mughal court. They came especially handy in the sacking of Delhi. The beautiful Jama Masjid was converted into the Sikh cavalry's stables. There was even a demand to raze the mosque. Thankfully, it wasn't carried out.
In the years that followed, the British stepped up their army recruitments from Punjab: Muslims, Sikhs and Hindu Jats (present-day Haryana was a part of Punjab then). These were the men from whom the Raj drew its strength. Grateful for the jobs, they remained loyal to their British benefactors all through their lives. In modern parlance, they would be called the brand ambassadors of the Raj at the grass roots. The second set of brand ambassadors consisted of the agriculturists who had been settled in the "canal colonies" of Punjab. These were the people who could always be counted on to support the Raj. It was the landed gentry who also helped in the recruitment drive during the Second World War, which thwarted the Congress in Punjab right up to Independence.
In the final analysis, is Punjab a story of communal harmony or discord? Actually, it's both. Mahatma Gandhi had famously said that the people of Punjab - Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs - breathed the same air, drank the same water, spoke the same language and drew sustenance from the same soil; so where was the scope for any difference? In the villages of united Punjab, there was some sort of equilibrium among the various communities. There might have been differences, but nothing that could lead to mayhem. Yet, the communal discord that led to Partition is also a brutal fact that cannot be swept under the carpet. There was loss of life and property on both sides. Still, amid all the madness, there were stories of great humanity, or insaniyat, in the author's words. He has collected several such stories towards the end of the book, which will make you understand the wisdom of the author's grandfather.