In the City of Gold and Silver (20 page)

Hundreds of corpses float on the reddened waters of the Ganges. All the men have been killed, except four, who managed to escape. They will later describe the horror they endured.

Hugging their children tightly against them, the terrified women scream, imploring those soldiers who seem hesitant for pity, when finally an order to stop the massacre arrives from the palace.

The survivors—about two hundred women and children—are cooped up in a small house called Bibighar, so named as it was built for the bibi, a British officer's mistress. The dilapidated building, having been empty for a long time, has no furniture, and the prisoners have to sleep directly on the mud floor. The only food they receive twice a day consists of flour and
dal
, the lentils that constitute poor Indians' staple diet.

Why has the Nana spared them? Out of pity for the women and children of those who had been his friends in another life, or out of pure calculation? In the event of a setback, these hostages could be valuable as a currency of exchange.

But for those who crowd around the shelter jeering, these women, now stripped of all they possessed, are mainly objects of revenge. For the Indians, who have slaved all their lives for the memsahibs
 
without ever receiving the slightest recognition, the sight of their humiliation is a joy. What is unbearable about the Angrez has nothing to do with the work, which was no harder than at the begums', it is that in their houses, the natives are invisible. Instead of being an integral part of the household, and being scolded as well as protected like children, they are treated like shadows, instruments to be used, never human beings deserving of the occasional benevolent glance.

Relationships that are dehumanising on a daily basis breed bitterness. The Indian women mock the captives vociferously; revenge is sweet. They delight in watching the memsahibs on their knees, scraping their hands on the stone while they clumsily try to grind the wheat to obtain a bit of flour, and washing their torn dresses—rags their servants would discard—the only garments remaining to these “ladies,” who used to be dressed in silk and lace!

The female head guard of Bibighar treats them especially harshly.

The woman, nicknamed “the begum” for her fair skin and authoritarian manners, used to be a prostitute. She is totally devoted to the Nana's secretary. Just like him, she hates Angrez women, the kind ones in particular, who affect simplicity while maintaining a certain haughtiness, those for whom charity is such a clear way of marking distance that it becomes insulting. She thus seeks every possible means of humiliating them. When informed that the prisoners' health is deteriorating dangerously, Nana Sahib sends a doctor and allows them an hour's walk daily. The begum chooses to have them parade down the most crowded streets, where they endure slurs and jeering. Or she makes them march through the main bazaar, surrounded by stalls full of foodstuffs, and if ever a trader, overcome with pity by a child's hungry look, dares hold a fruit out to them, she immediately barks: “Have you no shame? Give it to our children who are dying of hunger instead!”

In the Bibighar prison, weakness and dysentery wreak havoc but, despite everything, the women do not lose hope: from a servant's gossip, they have learnt that Major Renaud's regiment has left Allahabad and is on its way to Kanpur to free them.

Upon receiving this news, Nana Sahib assembles his council.

“The yellow-faced, narrow-minded people have been vanquished, but they are attempting to return. We will wipe them out!”*

According to his spies, the British troops number a few hundred men, and although they have left a string of devastated towns and villages behind them, they have also suffered heavy losses, either in battle or due to heatstroke and fevers.

On July 9th, the rebel army commanded by Tantia Tope and the Nana's brother is sent to stop the British forces. They have far more men and should win easily, but General Havelock's reinforcements arrive unexpectedly. They launch a surprise attack, confounding all expectations. After two days of fierce battle, Nana Sahib's troops are subdued.

When the news of the defeat reaches Kanpur on July 13th, the war council unanimously decides to defend the town.

But what should they do with the prisoners?

Most of the prince's advisors, particularly his brother, Tantia Tope and Azimullah, are of the opinion they should be eliminated: “They saw everything that took place here, they can testify against us.” Nana Sahib, himself, firmly opposes this solution and to convince his companions, he argues that the British will give anything to recover their women and children. If the situation deteriorates, these hostages are the only hope of saving their skins.

The war council adjourns without having reached a decision.

A
rriving from all over the other districts of Awadh, groups of rebels assemble in the town of Nawabganj, twenty miles from Lucknow. The majority are sepoys coming from the garrisons in revolt, but there are also a few taluqdars who have decided to lead their troops into combat against the British occupying forces. What do they have left to lose? The new English laws have dispossessed them of their lands and, above all, of their status by sabotaging the complex system of loyalty that had, for centuries, bound them to their peasants. They only have one objective now: to drive out these bandits who, sheltering behind great moral principles, have stolen their land and their honour.

By the end of June, there are over seven thousand men at Nawabganj, including one cavalry regiment and two military police regiments. Their leaders are the Rajah of Mahmudabad and Rajah Jai Lal Singh—old and faithful friends. On the other hand, the arrival of a strange character, Maulvi Ahmadullah Shah, is cause for concern. Just recently released from prison, where his incendiary speeches had landed him, the maulvi is followed by over a thousand disciples, clearly hypnotized by his presence. Under the circumstances, it is out of the question for the two rajahs to forgo such a valuable input of armed forces, but they will have to watch him closely.

On June 28th, a messenger from Kanpur announces that Nana Sahib has gained control of the town. Now they can finally launch the assault against Lucknow with no fear of a surprise attack by the British.

On the 29th, under the maulvi's command, an advance force of eight hundred men is sent towards the village of Chinhat, seven miles from the capital, while Jai Lal and Mahmudabad go over the final strategy.

In Lucknow, Sir Henry Lawrence, forewarned by his spies, hesitates. Should he send his troops to wipe out this first wave of rebels, and hopefully discourage the still disorganised enemy? This would also test the loyalty of the sepoys who remained with him . . . but then he risks losing a part of his already reduced forces intended to protect the Residency and the civilians who have taken refuge there. Finally, at the insistence of his officers, who refuse to be branded as cowards, he sets off for Chinhat on the 30th at the crack of dawn with a column of seven hundred men.

However, these twenty-four hours of procrastination prove to be fatal: they have given the Indians time to regroup.

On this morning of June 30th, in the smothering heat, Lawrence's troops advance slowly across a sandy terrain, slowed down by the heavy Howitzer cannon pulled by an elephant. In order to save time, they have not stopped to eat and have nothing to drink, as the native water carriers have mysteriously disappeared. Nevertheless, Sir Henry is not worried; he knows his men's capacity for courage and endurance. Gritting their teeth, they continue to make headway under a merciless sun.

As Chinhat comes into view, the cavalry's advance guard encounters heavy fire. Before they have time to position the Howitzer, the Indian cannons, hidden behind a thick curtain of mango trees, force the British troops to a halt. The artillery battle lasts several hours, when, finally, the cannons on the Indian side fall silent. The British cry victory—the
enemy is retreating!—until they notice the regiments descending the flanks of the hill in an encirclement manoeuvre. There are thousands of them advancing in perfect order. At this precise moment, the Indian artillerists and most of the sepoys in the column choose to abandon their posts. They push the cannons into the ditches quickly and rush to join their compatriots, leaving the British artillerists isolated and short of ammunition. Their stocks have evaporated as if by magic. Surrounded on all sides, the British fight furiously. They fall to enemy fire by the dozens; the situation is absolutely hopeless, when, finally, Sir Henry decides to sound the retreat.

Given the soldiers' state of exhaustion, the retreat would have been transformed into a bloodbath if Lawrence had not had a brilliant idea: he posts men equipped with flamethrowers on a narrow bridge. They hold off the Indians, permitting the rest of his troops to return to the Residency, where the blood-splattered fighters are received with panic. The losses have been heavy: three hundred dead and dozens wounded. But above all, the psychological shock is immense—it is the first time a British army has been defeated by natives!

While the camp licks its wounds, Sir Henry Lawrence hurriedly has the latest gaps in the ramparts repaired, and tries his best to reassure the terror-stricken women and children. Meanwhile, the victorious sepoys are given a heroes' welcome. They recount the battle in great detail and describe the flight of these Angrez, whom, until now, everyone had believed to be invincible.

In order to complete their victory, a few hundred enthusiasts swarm the Residency, armed with only their rifles. Repelled by heavy cannon fire, they are forced to retreat, leaving a large number of their dead behind on the battlefield. They then vent their rage on the “collaborators”: the policemen who remained loyal to the occupier, but mainly the
banyas
and
mahajans
,
60
who have benefited from the new regime. The hunt for traitors begins. Helped by the angry population, the soldiers pillage and burn everything belonging to the British or their allies, and pursue those they presume guilty, resolutely deaf to the warnings of their commanding officers, who try to maintain order. In a vengeful frenzy, they burn the British bungalows as well as the prison, the court of justice, the tax office, the telegraph office, the station and everything that reminds them of British domination. The situation deteriorates from one hour to the next as peasants, avid to take part in the victory celebration and in the acts of retribution, arrive from the surrounding villages. There is absolute chaos.

 

* * *

 

“We must act as quickly as possible, otherwise we will lose all control and the town will fall into anarchy.”

Rajah Jai Lal has assembled the military leaders and the taluqdars who took part in the Battle of Chinhat. All of them are aware of the danger, but after hours of discussion, they have still not managed to agree on a strategy.

“We cannot just start shooting soldiers to make them submit! It would spark off a civil war!” protests one of the rajahs.

“In my opinion, it would be best to leave them alone. In two or three days they will be exhausted and things will have calmed down on their own,” adds his neighbour wisely.

This is too much for Rajah Jai Lal.

“Allow them to continue vandalising the town? Make no mistake, it is no longer our sepoys leading this dance. These are criminals freed from the prisons, men who kidnap and kill women and children! If it were your homes and your families being attacked, would you continue to deliberate, sitting comfortably in your armchairs? No, of course not, you would immediately find a way to stop this carnage! But as it concerns ‘the others,' people who are strangers to you, the poor who are used to misfortune, you take your time, arguing endlessly, discussing the principles to be respected, the necessary objectivity and the undesirable consequences that could result from a rash decision!”

And, pointing his finger at the speechless assembly:

“If the assassins, blinded by rage and hatred are guilty, you gentlemen in your luxurious ivory towers are all the more so! How can you sleep at night when, through indifference and cowardice, you allow all these innocents to be massacred?”

“You who speak so well, what solution do you propose?”

The young Rajah of Salimpur has never had much sympathy for Jai Lal, this new aristocrat. His frankness is an insult to the refined behaviour so prized by Lucknow's society.

“We must re-establish an unquestioned authority that applies to everyone as soon as possible.”

“And how is that to be done? Our sovereign is a prisoner, hundreds of miles away, and we have abolished the British power that had replaced him. A taluqdars' assembly then?”

Jai Lal shrugs his shoulders.

“You know perfectly well that the taluqdars will never manage to reach an agreement on anything! The only unquestioned authority would be a member of the royal family, as my discussions with the sepoys' representatives over the last few days have confirmed. The cavalry favours Prince Sulaiman Qadar, the king's brother, but the infantry, which is ten times larger and mainly Hindu, insists the throne should go to one of Wajid Ali Shah's sons. The eldest are in Calcutta with their father, but two of them are still here.”

“How old are they?”

“The elder one is sixteen, the younger, eleven.”

“Children!”

“It does not matter. They will only be symbolic figures. All the decisions will be taken by the delegates designated by the taluqdars and the army.”

“Don't forget the begums!” intervenes the old Rajah of Tilpur maliciously. “Some of them are strong personalities. Officially, the mother of a young king is regent until his majority, and should she get it into her head that she wants to govern, we may well have problems.”

“We will find a way to make them listen to reason,” interrupts Jai Lal. “At the moment, our priority is to find the best possible candidate. As head of the army, I propose that I, together with a delegate designated by the taluqdars, talk to the begums tomorrow.”