He captured Lahore and became the ruler of the Punjab when he was only 19. His kingdom was spread from the Sutlej to the hill provinces of the north, Jammu, Kashmir, Baltistan and the Derajat including Peshawar — the volatile Pathan areas which even the British could not hold on to. The grandeur of his court was second to none, the splendid Kohinoor he wore on his arm. His Khalsa army was the finest in Asia, complete with European commanders, Gurkha soldiers and Akali fanatics. His appetite for wine, women and fine horses was legendary.
Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s was a remarkable life. In contrast, the life of his last recognized son, Duleep Singh, was tragic and hollow. He was born in 1838 to Ranjit Singh and Jindan, a daughter of the kennel keeper. It was the year before the Lion of Punjab died. Long bouts of drinking had taken a toll on his health and many suspected Duleep Singh was actually sired by a water carrier who had access to the zenana.
A struggle for power broke out after Ranjit Singh’s death. And in the year 1843, Duleep Singh found himself on the throne of Lahore. He was five. The situation was just ripe for the East India Company to take over the Sikh kingdom, which it did in 1849.
Life after that was nothing but a long series of deception and humiliation for Duleep Singh. Navtej Sarna relives the days of the last Sikh ruler of Lahore — lonely, misled and finally consumed in the fires of his impotent anguish. The story is narrated through Duleep Singh himself and people close to him, or who he thought were close to him — a maidservant of Jindan, a servant, a British couple entrusted with bringing up the young Maharaja as a country gentleman who was to remain oriental only in looks, and an American soldier of fortune who spied on him. Sarna speaks the language of each with perfection. No stranger to the subtle nuances of language, he can handle Indian hyperbole with equal ease as British correctness.
The novel, fast-paced and complete in detail, moves from Lahore to Jammu, Fatehgarh, Mussoorrie, England, Aden, Moscow and Paris. Sarna, to his immense credit, captures the sights, sounds and smells of each of these places perfectly. The minutest detail is well captured in the book, a result of some painstaking research undertaken by Sarna.
It is well-known that Duleep Singh became a Christian soon after he left Lahore. Sarna brings to life the circumstances created by his British minders which led him to forsake the religion of his forefathers and take that of his new masters. Gentle persuasion on a young and scared mind did the trick. It also weakened his case for mounting a claim on the Punjab in the future. For the same reason, it appears, he was whisked away to England, away from his mother who was languishing somewhere in Nepal. The legacy of Ranjit Singh was potent enough to create trouble in the Punjab.
Later in life, once he realized the duplicity of the India office bureaucrats in London, Duleep Singh became a rebel. He set sale for India with a grand vision of leading a Punjabi rebellion against the British but was halted at Aden. His second act was to become a Sikh once again — he was convinced he was the chosen one to liberate the Sikhs as predicted by the Tenth Guru, Gobind Singh.
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He then moved to Paris, the hotbed of revolutionaries and anarchists. All the plans he made were, of course, duly reported to London. He even travelled to St Petersburg to enlist the Czar’s support for a march to India. The people of India would take care of all expenses of the expedition, he promised. The Czar refused to meet him. He returned to Paris, broken and penniless.
To Sarna’s credit, he deals with this part of Duleep Singh’s life objectively. His deep-rooted fascination for the Maharaja doesn’t deter him from seeing these events as what they were — the grand designs of a defeated, anguished and impractical man.
Duleep Singh’s last days were no less painful. His children were apprehensive that his rebellious ways may earn them the wrath of the British crown. Under pressure, Duleep Singh begged for forgiveness, which was granted. He died in a cheap hotel room in Paris — thousands of miles away from the grand chambers where he was born.
As a footnote, Sarna adds that none of Duleep Singh’s children had kids. There was talk that his son, Victor, was asked not to have kids. Ranjit Singh’s greatness haunted Duleep Singh all through his life and also after his death. A better story on the Punjab’s first family could not have been told.
THE EXILE
Navtej Sarna
Penguin
251 pages
Rs 450
