Alum Bheg was a nondescript pawn sacrificed in the tumult of 1857. His story, told without empire-bashing or nostalgia, throws light on a brutalising colonialism.
It may not have caught the attention of historian Kim Wagner had there not been a neatly folded slip of paper in the eye-socket of the skull, which read: ‘Skull of Havildar Alum Bheg 46th Bengal Infantry who was blown away from a gun. He was a principal leader of the mutiny of 1857 and of a most ruffianly disposition.’
Intrigued by the manner of execution and the subsequent collection of the skull as a trophy, Wagner sought to restore some peace for the dispossessed by piecing together the history of barbaric treatment of the natives by the imperialists. It is a work which scholars call a subaltern prosopography, depicting the cruelty of the natives and the barbaric retribution which followed.
Following the execution the skull was carried home by Captain A R G Costello, who was witness to the execution in Sialkot on July 10, 1858, before it resurfaced a century later at pub The Lord Clyde in 1963. It took another fifty years before the inglorious skull, directly linked to a part of colonial history, coincidentally reached a Danish historian researching on imperial executions. The Skull of Alum Bheg is a meticulously researched, gripping narrative that brings to life the human aspects of imperial domination. Staying clear of both mindless empire-bashing and jingoistic empire-nostalgia, the narrative provides a nuanced understanding of the past by portraying the personalities on all sides of the conflict. The final brutal outcome is reflective of the relationships and circumstances between the ruler and the ruled, guiding us to address the enduring legacies of imperialism that are still with us today.
Resentment was brewing following the Barrackpore mutiny, in which hundreds of native sepoys were slaughtered in 1824, with the soldiers increasingly getting convinced that their officers were deliberately, and insidiously, undermining their ritual purity leading to infidelity. The British did little to assuage doubts and fears attached to biting the cow or pig-fat greased cartridges. Instead, by disbanding the sepoys of first Barrackpore and later Berhampore garrisons they only managed to stoke resentment amongst their most trusted and most needed support to rule 200 million people. The native foot soldiers outnumbered their counterparts in the army; there were five native sepoys for each imperial soldier. Relying on their numerical strength, the natives mutinied against their racist and rapacious ruler.
Wading through reams of historical records, Wagner weaves together a compelling history of mutiny as it spread across most of the northern areas. In some ways, the popular uprising was an armed rebellion against a longstanding climate of dissatisfaction, brewing out of perceived religious subjugation, which had played out differently across regions. Sialkot cantonment was on the tenterhooks of an uneasy calm, partly because the sepoys of the Bengal Army constituted a uniquely coherent group who found a sense of unity as they lived far away from their villages in Awadh. But they could not be insulated from the disturbing news of mutiny for long, and in the ensuing chaos personal animosity had merged with general discontent to claim innocent lives.
Shockingly, however, the existing evidence makes no mention of Alum Bheg as the principal mutineer at Sialkot, for which he was held guilty and sentenced. Neither is there any indication that he played any role in brutal assault and killing of Jane Hunter, her two-year old son, and Dr Graham. Caught between the devil and the deep sea, Alum Bheg and his men chose to head for Delhi to offer their allegiance to Bahadur Shah. It was to their undoing, as they were waylaid on at Trimmu Ghat on the banks of river Ravi in Gurdaspur, and were forced to flee into Kashmir. The imperial forces hunted them down as an act of betrayal was considered morally and politically indefensible; severity of retribution was implicitly justified.
Wagner uses the story of one man’s death to excavate the weak under-belly of the nineteenth century empire, which considered the outbreak of mutiny as personal attacks on themselves. As an act of retributive logic to Kanpur killings wherein slaughtered European women and children were dumped in a well, the British took an unmistakable sense of achievement by consigning innumerable mutineers to a well in Ajnala. Wagner notes with dismay that there are no heroes in the book, only victims. Convinced that the execution of Alum Bheg was a deliberate attempt to deny him his funeral rites, the author proposes the peaceful site of the Battle of Trimmu Ghat, on the island in the river Ravi, as his permanent resting place.
Meticulously researched and vividly written, it is a page turning narrative that lays bare the Victorians’ macabre fetish for collecting body parts. But, cautions Wagner, the complexities of the past must be viewed beyond the moral binary of ‘good’ or ‘bad’.
The Skull of Alum Bheg
by Kim A. Wagner
Hurst & Co, London,
Extent: 287, Price: Rs. 599
First published in Outlook magazine, issue dated May 7, 2018.
During such times when cultivation has become bedrock of farmers’ suicide, the story of getting back to the roots may seem outwardly romantic and far-fetched.
It may seem a contradiction in terms but change, in itself formless, is the stuff that brings change to all animate and inanimate forms. Be it materials, products, systems, institutions, processes, thoughts, relationships or emotions, change manifests itself as a state of affairs at different points in time. From Heraclitus to Einstein, an enquiry into change has revealed diverse perspectives with each insight reaffirming the inevitability of change, as much a reality as a point of view. In modern times, however, change as a point of view has helped trigger possibilities of restructuring one’s life so as ‘to be the change that one may want to be’.
For techie Venkat Iyer, change has meant a planned shift from a self-imposed fast-paced stressful urban existence to a more relaxed rural setting where time remains at your beck and call to usher in a nuanced meaning to life. The resolve for seeking peace in a space that he could call his own has grown in the last fourteen years, since he moved to another world just hundred kilometers from the dream city called Mumbai. Convinced that a transition alone can help throw the city out of him, the young software engineer set out on an arduous journey to nestle himself in the lap of nature. Since farming nowhere generated equivalent of the monthly pay cheque he was used to, transformation to a non-consumptive lifestyle became his compelling daily reality.
The story is insightful and reflective; shedding light on how personal resolve can answer the question of responsibility that comes tagged along with change. The responsibility towards self, society and surroundings can be as intense as it can get, generating as much empathy towards the two legged species as for the slithering reptiles. It soon became clear that the organic way of life was bringing back a lot of creatures to the farm. Even the colorful rooster did not need an official invite to join the flock of hens. Nature was in awe of itself, celebrating each new arrival.
One might wonder if such romanticism can last long, and whether ascetic living could be the new normal. With no dearth of courage and an unending conviction, Venkat relocated himself with ease despite the daily ordeal of battling people, and their prejudices. Once he got the better of it, he became part of the social milieu – taking support and extending cooperation to local people. The transition from managing microchips to cultivating moong was promising; harvesting 300 kgs of the common lentil as the first crop was a major morale booster.
Moong Over Microchips is full of incidents and encounters, each adding a new dimension to learning human behaviour amidst challenging adversities. Curiously, the spectre of an economic imperialism that phrases everything in economic terms is yet to hit the countryside, where goodwill can still be the mode of intangible transaction. The old lady in the tribal hamlet of Boripada bartered the near-extinct Kasbai rice seeds for a pittance, unaware of the immense contribution she is making towards preserving country’s biodiversity. Unspoilt by progress, such humble contributions will eventually count in the progress of the country.
Such experiences notwithstanding, it was clear from the beginning that farm harvest alone cannot make Venkat laugh all the way to the bank. But what made him smile was the joy of seeing the seed he planted push out of the soil, and that he could grow most of his daily needs on the farm was a satisfying experience. This may sound abstract for those who take the gloom and doom in the city for granted, and pay a heavy price for it. That there is value in living under the open sky, amidst undisturbed nature, with friendly pets, and consuming homegrown vegetables is unlikely to touch a chord with many of them. This is because we have lost out on love and sensitivity in favor of anger and anxiety.
During such times when cultivation has become bedrock of farmers’ suicide, the story of getting back to the roots may seem outwardly romantic and far-fetched. Nowhere does the author make such a suggestion however, his story is more about the quest for transforming stressful lifestyle and the grit required to make it work. That he found in farming a way to salvation is only an indicative possibility. The core message the author delivers through his lived-in experience is that one could easily live without several of those things that are considered ‘essential’ under the influence of the market. A life stuffed with avoidable materials and products can provide value-added return, devoid of any depreciation.
For all those having a hard look at where they are headed, Moong Over Microchips offers a list of pre-requisites before taking the plunge. That another world and another location waiting to be explored for self amelioration are without doubt out there. Much will depend on what happiness means to a person, and what price one is willing to pay for attaining it.
Moong Over MicroChips
by Venkat Iyer
Penguin Viking, New Delhi
Extent: 237, Price: Rs 499
