The Pindari War

The emperor Aurungzebe died in 1707, and his death was followed by anarchy for more than a century. There were many contestants to succeed the Mughuls, some of whom came from within India like the Mahrattas, while others came from across the mountains like the Afghans, or from beyond the seas like the British and the French. The viceroys of great provinces, such as Hyderabad, made themselves independent monarchs, while all over India lesser feudatories of the Mughuls carved out for themselves large or small principalities. Ordinary folk were at the mercy of bands of freebooters, and none of these were more feared, nor were more rapacious, than the Pindaris. In this chapter Sita Ram describes his experiences during the operations carried out against them in 1817 and 1818.

It is said that the Pindaris acquired their name from a fondness for a liquor called pinda. They consisted of numerous bands of robbers of from two to three thousand strong whose area of operations extended throughout Central India and the Deccan. The Mahratta chiefs, smarting under their defeat by Lake¹ and Wellesley² in the war that had lasted from 1803 to 1805, made use of the Pindaris to serve their own tortuous ends, as did the chiefs of Rajasthan who had not as yet crossed swords with the Company, and it was to the deserts and jungles of Rajasthan that the Pindaris usually retired after carrying out their raids.

They swept through the countryside during the raiding season like locusts, devouring all in their path, but they would melt away in the face of resolute opposition. 'When they set out on an expedition,' wrote Sir John Malcolm,³ 'they were neither encumbered by tents nor baggage; each horseman carried a few cakes of bread for his own subsistence and some feeds of grain for his horses. The party, usually consisting of two or three thousand good horse, with a proportion of mounted followers, advanced (as secretly as they could and without plundering) at the rapid rate of forty or fifty miles a day, turning neither to the right nor left till they arrived at the country meant to be attacked. They then divided and made a sweep of all the cattle and property they could find; committing at the same time the most horrid atrocities and destroying what they could not carry away. They trusted to the secrecy and suddenness of the irruption for avoiding the troops who guarded the frontiers of the countries they invaded, and before a force could be brought against them, they were on their return. If pursued they made marches of extraordinary length (sometimes upwards of sixty miles) by roads almost impracticable for regular troops. If overtaken they dispersed and reassembled at an appointed rendezvous; if followed to the country from where they had issued, they scattered into small parties, and nowhere presented any point of attack.'

Some idea of the havoc they wrought can be gained from the record of one of these bands that killed 182 peasants, wounded 505, and tortured 3,033 in the space of an eight days' foray. A favourite form of torture was to 'tie a bag of hot ashes over a man's mouth and nose and thump his back; this not only made him divulge without further waste of his tormentor's time, where he had hidden his belongings, but subsequently caused his lungs to rot'.⁴ Sita Rani laments the devastation caused by these bandits, and it was indeed incredible. Malcolm records that 315 of the 351 villages in the state of Dhar had been abandoned, while 1,663 out of 3,710 villages in Indore lay in ruins. The Pindaris recruited their ranks from all over India, but they mainly consisted of discharged soldiers, escaped criminals, and vagabonds who offered their swords to such acknowledged leaders as Chitu (a Hindu) and Karim Khan (a Mahommedan).

From 1812 onwards the Pindaris, aided and abetted by the Mahratta chiefs, extended their raids into the Company's territory. A particularly savage raid was made in March 1816. A Pindari band swept right across central India and penetrated deep into the Madras Presidency. They returned to their base unmolested, having plundered over 300 villages, and carried off or destroyed property to the value of £100,000. The Governor-General, Lord Hastings,⁵ was himself a soldier, and he was determined to destroy the Pindaris. A large force for those days was assembled for the task. The Grand Army of Bengal was concentrated in the north under Hastings' own command; it totalled some 43,000 troops. The Army of the Deccan, consisting of troops from the Madras and Bombay Armies, was formed in the south; it contained about 70,000 regular and irregular troops. The plan was to sweep through central India from south to north and rid the land of the Pindaris.

design was to some extent frustrated by the conduct of the Mahratta chiefs, and also by the terrain. The Mahrattas seized the opportunity afforded them by the Company's involvement with the Pindaris to raise the flag of revolt yet again. Holkar of Indore was the first to take the field, followed shortly by the Peshwa of Poona. They were joined by Apa Sahib after he had proclaimed himself the Bhonsla of Nagpur in February 1817. This understandably complicated Hastings' plan of campaign; to the Pindaris, whose tactics were hit and run with the emphasis on the latter, Hastings had now to add the Mahrattas and their Arab mercenaries. Although the ordinary Mahrattas themselves had little stomach left for the fight, the same was not true of the Arabs who fought fiercely until the last man and the last round.

The area of operations covered more than 150,000 square miles of extremely difficult terrain. Roads were virtually non-existent and the tracks were infamous. The rivers were only fordable during the dry season. Vast tracts of jungle were inhabited by aboriginal tribes like the Bhils and Gonds who murdered any straggler. Disease was endemic and cholera put in an appearance for the first time in the history of the British Army.⁶ Hill forts crowned every inaccessible crag, and the villagers were cowed and sullen after years of intimidation by the Pindaris. The problem of co-ordinating operations in such terrain, and over such great distances, was a formidable one. The only means of communication was by mounted dispatch-rider, while some idea of the logistical problem can be judged from John Shipp's description of his task as Baggage Master of the Left Division of the Grand Army. Although this Division amounted to no more than 8,000 soldiers, it was accompanied by 80,000 men, women and children, 50 elephants, 600 camels, 11,000 bullocks, horses, mules and pack ponies, 500 goats, sheep and dogs, 250 palanquins, and vehicles of every kind and description. The imagination boggles at the thought of having to move such a conglomeration of people and animals through a virtually trackless and foodless wilderness in pursuit of a mobile and elusive enemy, but it was done, and the operations ended in success.

The part played by Sita Ram was not a particularly distinguished one, but he was honourably wounded and behaved throughout in a soldierly fashion. He has some interesting theories to account for the fighting qualities of his British comrades which are as likely as not to be true of their time.

My regiment⁷ was ordered to return to Mutthura after the Gurkha War, but we had not been there long before we were sent to join the large army which was assembling under the personal command of the Governor-General, Lord Hastings. We were to take the field against the Pindaris. These were a set of mounted robbers who seldom fought a battle if they could by any means avoid it, but who marched about the Deccan and other provinces, plundering helpless towns, exacting large sums of money from the bankers, carrying off the best looking women, and attacking and maiming people without regard to their age or sex. No place or person was safe. On one day this village would be looted, and on the next another as much as eighty miles away. Sometimes a thousand horsemen would appear before a town and hold it to ransom; in this fashion as much as two lakhs⁸ of rupees has been carried off. If the robbers imagined from the way this money was paid that it was obtained without much difficulty, they would then assume that the town was rich and contained even more booty. They would leave at a gallop, halt twenty miles away, and return at night to loot the place of everything of value which could possibly be carried off. They would kill any man, woman or child who offered the least resistance, and often carried off with them the headman, or the richest citizen, in the hopes of extorting a large ransom. An exorbitant sum was usually demanded, and the anxieties of the victim's relatives would be aroused by accompanying the demands with his ears, fingers, or hands, coupled with threats that if the ransom was not paid, the victim's head would be the next to follow.

Hindustan was at this time tormented by demons from the lowest hell. I cannot describe the horrors of those days—may the Gods grant that they never return! The very word Pindari, and the name of Chitu, their Chief, was accursed. Merchants trembled when they heard it; maidens wept; no-one felt safe. These robber bands were made up from many kinds of people, and young men of noble family but of no wealth joined them. However they were chiefly men from southern India.⁹ The Pindaris always bribed the big Rajahs or Nawabs¹⁰ who often shared in the loot, although this might well be plunder from the rajah's own towns and villages. The robbers could therefore always find a refuge in friendly territory whenever they were sore pressed.

I now considered myself an experienced soldier, for I had suffered defeats and had helped to win victories. I had served with sahibs and with European soldiers. In my opinion the reason why the English are invincible is because they do not worry about defeat. Four times have I seen a European regiment driven back with terrible slaughter, and yet their fifth attempt was as fierce as their first. It is astonishing that they do not become confused if their leader is killed; another officer will take his place and will be obeyed in just the same fashion. Now in an Indian army, if the general or leader is killed, the whole army falls into confusion and generally takes to flight; the men will not follow the next leader. The principal reason for this is because Rajahs or Nawabs generally fight for their own benefit. They collect all the plunder into their own treasuries and spend it only on themselves and their favourites. They do not use the treasure for the good of their subjects. The result is that people do not care for war, other than for the opportunity it gives them for plunder, or for seizing power. Then again, few Princes of Hindustan ever pay their troops regularly. However brave the individual soldiers may be, there can be no real discipline if an army is allowed to pay itself by plunder. Princes seldom grant pensions to the families of soldiers killed in their service, and care little for the soldier when he is disabled and can be of no further use to them.

The Company's officers fight, but plunder is not their sole object. The strict rules of the army prevent this to a great extent. They are paid regularly, and know they will continue to be. Also they know that if it is their fate to be wounded, they will still be cared for, and often rewarded. As for the European soldiers—I hardly know why they love fighting as much as they do, unless it is for grog. They would fight ten battles in succession for one bowl of spirits. Their pay is negligible, so it cannot be for that. They also love looting, but I have seen them give a cap full of rupees for one bottle of brandy. I have been told that the English doctors have discovered some kind of essence which is mixed with the soldiers' grog. Great care has to be taken not to mix too much, since otherwise the men would all kill themselves in battle by their rashness. I know that water has always to be mixed with their spirits, although they do not realize this. Whenever I have seen them discouraged, or fighting half-heartedly, it has always been on occasions when they were deprived of their usual ration spirit. Sikh soldiers,¹¹ who drink English liquor, say they have no fear when they can get ration rum, but country liquor burns up their livers and makes them fools instead of heroes. I am sure there must be some kind of elixir of life in ration rum; I have seen wounded men, all but dead, come to life after having some rum given to them. Be this as it may, I am convinced there is something very extraordinary about it. I know European soldiers worship liquor, give their lives for it, and often lose their lives trying to get it. I have spoken to Doctor sahibs about this subject and they have told me that in their own language it is called water of fire, water of life, etc.¹²

My regiment was ordered to join the headquarters of the Governor-General and we proceeded by forced marches into Bundelkhand. There was a very large army—at least 100,000 soldiers.¹³ The work we had to perform was very arduous, marching and countermarching in a country where there were no roads. News came of a body of Pindaris being here one day, and there the next. Detachments were sent after them but seldom with any success. The movements of an army can best be compared with the game of chess, but one day we accidentally came upon a large body of the enemy. They had only just dismounted and were as ignorant of our approach as we were of their presence. We managed to get close enough to fire several volleys at them but they were soon off at a full gallop down slopes where even foot soldiers dare not venture. Some thirty or forty were killed and wounded, and we captured several horses.

My company was sent in pursuit of some of the enemy who had been dismounted. While chasing one of them, my foot caught in a bush and I was thrown headlong into a deep ravine. I lay at the bottom stunned for a while, and when I recovered I saw a man with a matchlock taking aim at me from a range of less than twelve yards. I covered him with my musket, but unfortunately the flint had been knocked out during my fall and naturally the musket would not fire. The Pindari got round behind me and fired from above, hitting me in the back near the left shoulder. I rolled farther down into the ravine and remember nothing until it was dark. Then I awoke with a burning thirst to find myself covered with blood, not only from my wound, but also from the thorns that had lacerated me. My face and hands were dreadfully cut. I was unable to move and lay there till dawn in terrible pain. I then managed to crawl up the bank, but was so exhausted by the effort that I fell back into the ravine.

This made my wound start bleeding again, but the loss of blood did not weaken me as much as I had expected. I dragged myself a little farther, and now began to think that death must be near as I had a raging thirst. I had just about given up all hope of life when I heard the tinkle of a cattle-bell, and this sign of life in such a wilderness gave me fresh vigour. In about an hour or so I came across a herd of buffaloes under the care of a boy and girl. Although I called to them in the name of God to give me some water, they disappeared into the jungle as soon as they saw me. After about an hour the girl reappeared, and seeing I could not walk approached nearer to me. I spoke to her, but all she would answer was, 'yes! yes!' I could not understand her, nor she me. I tried by every sign I knew to make her understand that I wanted water, and at last she seemed to understand. She pointed to a tree, and I crawled towards it to find a small earth-walled well from which they drew water for the cattle. She drew me some, and I drank it, although it was warm and tasted bitter like medicine. However it put life back into me and I washed my wound as well as I could.

It was no use talking to the girl because we could not understand each other. I then tried explaining my situation by sign language, but this frightened her and she ran off again into the jungle. I lay near the well all day, and in the evening four men arrived. They had evidently been sent by the girl since they approached me with great caution. After a great deal of jabbering they led me to their village which consisted of a few huts made of branches and thatched with broad leaves. They were not unkind, but I could not eat their food as they were men of low caste; they seemed to be iron smelters. I managed to make one of them point out the direction of the road, and I enquired where the Sirkar's army was. I understood him to reply that it had moved off a long way, but was unable to discover in which direction. I remained with these people for two days, existing on some dry chappatis I had in my knapsack and some milk which I was permitted to draw myself.

On the third day one of the men led me to a beaten track. He pointed to a large tree about two miles away, and also to both sides of the track, at the same time going through the motions of an arrow flying from a bow. I took this to be a warning to look out for my life. I found a thin piece of white stone which gave out sparks, and fixed this to my musket in place of the flint. However, I was much too weak to have fired it, and despite my weapon I was quite defenceless. I offered the man some money, but he shook his head and pointed to his stomach, indicating by signs that I took to mean that money was useless in that country. I think, from what I subsequently learnt, that these men were afraid of being found with any of the government's money in their possession. Had this been discovered at that time, it would have been quite sufficient to bring down the Pindaris' wrath on their heads, and this was so frightful to contemplate that these miserable wretches, in that remote jungle, dared not do anything that might offend the Pindaris.

The men left me by the roadside, and I made for a large tree, using my musket to help me along. However, I moved very slowly because the pain in my chest was so bad. I had an attack of coughing, during which I coughed up clots of blood, and this frightened me so much that I gave up all hopes of life. Towards evening I reached the tree, and found underneath it a tomb with its attendant holy man.¹⁴ He spoke to me in my own language, much to my delight, although it was only to tell me to go away and not cause him any trouble. I lay down close by, related my sad story, and his heart began to soften; but he told me that if the Pindaris found me, or knew that he had rendered a sepoy of the Sirkar's army any assistance, they would spear both him and myself. He then made me a poultice of neem leaves¹⁵ and bathed my wounds which gave me great relief. The fact that I was a Brahmin had a great effect on him. He hid my uniform and musket in the jungle and sprinkled me with red ochre dust. [Presumably to disguise Sita Ram as his disciple.]

From the position he had chosen for his seat, he was able to see a good way up and down the road, and therefore, whenever anyone approached, I had time to hide. No-one came near the place for five days, other than a few herds of cattle and their drovers, and I was now able to move a little. However the musket ball had lodged in the muscles of my back, and the wound began to suppurate, giving me great pain.

On the sixth day we saw a cloud of dust in the distance which was moving more rapidly than dust raised by a herd of cattle. The holy man told me to hide inside the tomb which had a large slab of stone covering the entrance; this slab was also smeared with red ochre. I crept in and was nearly suffocated, despite the small openings on either side of the tomb, but my life depended upon my remaining perfectly still. Within a few minutes a party of about thirty horsemen rode up and asked for water. They then asked the holy man whether he had seen any Europeans, or their sepoys, or any of their own people. His answers appeared to satisfy them. They dismounted and started to prepare some food they had brought with them. They began to talk with the holy man, telling him how they were hemmed in on every side and chased hither and thither like partridges. They had come eighty miles since the previous day and intended to join their leader, Karim Khan, who was proposing to seek refuge in Gwalior territory.¹⁶ They also said their numbers were much reduced; whereas formerly they had amounted to nearly 200,000, they had now dwindled to a few thousand. They complained that their leaders had deserted them, and that Chitu and Karim were both seeking their own safety in flight. Two of them lay down to rest on the shady side of the tomb, and I was terrified lest they should hear me move or breathe. As the sun rose higher, the inside of the tomb was like a bread oven, and my sufferings were nearly as bad as death. However, about midday, they mounted their horses and told the holy man that 'Teekur Garh' was the password to give any of their party who might come that way. They then disappeared into the jungle. I waited for half an hour and emerged from my living tomb, more dead than alive. How I thanked the great Siva¹⁷ for preserving my life!

Two more days elapsed and we saw another cloud of dust coming from the opposite direction. I ran into the tomb once again, but this time they were cavalry troopers from the Company's army. When I heard them talking about the Governor-General and General 'Esmith' sahib,¹⁸ I knew I was safe. I came out of the tomb and made myself known to the Rissaldar commanding the party. He would not believe my story at first, but the holy man brought my musket and uniform from where he had concealed them in the jungle. They gave me a pony to ride, and after bidding farewell to my kind protector, and leaving three rupees in his bowl, I went off with them. It chanced that this party belonged to a cavalry unit which was with my column, and within three days I was in the arms of my uncle who had given me up for dead. I had been absent thirteen days and no-one in my company knew anything about me. Some said they had seen my dead body, while others said I had been taken prisoner by the Pindaris.

I was so weak, thin and exhausted that I had to go to hospital. The Colonel sahib came often to see me and hear my story, and the other officers were equally kind. The Doctor sahib cut the ball out of my back, and I vomited a quantity of blood which gave me great relief. I now began to get better and stronger each day, but I could not bear the recoil of a musket and was therefore no use in the ranks. I was appointed orderly to the Colonel until such time as I could be sent home. I therefore avoided having to carry a musket or take my turn as sentry. The Adjutant sahib, who had never been very friendly before, now became very kind to me. He told me that he was very pleased that I had retained my musket and ammunition, despite my injuries, and had brought them back safely. I suppose this may have been the reason for his changed attitude towards me, but I think the notice taken of me by the Colonel sahib and the other officers also had something to do with it.