Beneath the splendour

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The Pathan is undoubtedly brave to rashness, sets no value upon life, either his own or anyone else's.— Edward E Oliver

The awesome splendour crafted by the British Raj in India spans two distinct timeframes: the East India Company's rule from 1757 (when Bengal was captured) to 1857, culminating in the mutiny; and the British imperial rule from 1857 to 1947, ending with the independence and Partition of India on August 15, 1947.

The fabled Civil Administration and the equally prestigious British-Indian Army were the main pillars of colonial governance. These are still holding ground in both India and Pakistan, though marred by negative vernacular trends. The stellar members of the ICS and the stunning authority wielded by a District Collector vividly capture the charisma of the two eras.

However, beneath the sparkling layers lay bloody fault lines that I wish to uncover from relatively unexplored chapters of history. I had to restrict myself primarily to the imperial rule, leaving aside the escapades of the Company's reign, as the grisly incidents are too numerous to cover here. Similarly, the savagery and slaughter of victor and vanquished in the Anglo-Indian, Anglo-Sikh and Anglo-Afghan wars, or the countless battles in the tribal expanse of the North-West Frontier Province - along with the British-led punitive expeditions - cannot be abridged in this narrative.

Lord Mayo, serving as Viceroy from 1869 to 1872, was assassinated in the Andaman Islands by Sher Ali Afridi on February 8, 1872, during a visit to the penal settlement (Kala Pani) in Port Blair. Afridi, a Pashtun prisoner, attacked him with a bayonet, mortally wounding him. This shocking event highlighted the risks British officials faced even in remote and secured areas under their control.

Another Viceroy, Lord Hardinge, narrowly escaped death in 1912 when a bomb was thrown at his elephant procession in Chandni Chowk, Delhi, during the capital's relocation from Calcutta to Delhi. This event was highly despised by Bengalis. The attack, carried out by Indian revolutionaries led by Rash Behari Bose, marked a strong protest against British policies. Although Lord Hardinge sustained injuries, he survived. The incident revealed the growing intensity of the freedom struggle.

Archival records at the India Office in London reveal that Lord Lytton, Viceroy from 1876 to 1880, escaped an assassination attempt on December 12, 1879, while traveling from Howrah Railway Station to Government House in Calcutta. The viceregal party's carriages were fired upon twice. The assailant, George De Sa, a Eurasian, was later dismissed by Lord Lytton as either a lunatic or a drunkard in correspondence with James Caird, a member of the Indian Famine Commission.

Political Agents stationed in volatile regions like South and North Waziristan - or for that matter the entire NWFP (now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa) - faced constant threat and danger. At least five English Political Agents in Waziristan were killed in this fiercely independent tribal area. The last to perish was PT Duncan, shot dead at Sararogha on the Jandola-Razmak road, about 60 miles from Tank, in May 1948. The assailant, a Mahsud tribesman, was also killed in the return fire.

History is replete with countless bloodbaths suffered by the British Indian Army (both white and brown) at the hands of relentlessly fearsome tribals. The two mythical tribal leaders of Waziristan, Mohiuddin Maseed, alias Mullah Powindah (1863–1913), and Haji Mirzali Khan, also known as the Faqir of Ippi (1897–1960), symbolise the valour and indomitable spirit of the Pashtuns. These historic recalcitrants continue to pose a formidable challenge to Pakistan's professional army.

Ajab Khan Afridi's story further illustrates this resistance. In 1923, Ajab Khan, angered by a British raid on his village, retaliated by attacking the house of a British major in Kohat, killing his wife and kidnapping his daughter, Molly Ellis. The incident sparked a massive manhunt.

Winston Churchill, later Britain's iconic Prime Minister and a great wartime leader, experienced the defiance of the Pashtuns during his early career as a war correspondent and subaltern. He reported on the siege of Malakand led by Major General Bindon Blood in the North-West Frontier from July 26

to August 2, 1897. The young Churchill was even taken captive by tribesmen, released only after a ransom was paid. He allegedly endured humiliating treatment during his captivity.

The most dramatic act of vengeance occurred in 1940 when Udham Singh, a survivor of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, assassinated Michael O'Dwyer in London. O'Dwyer, the former Lieutenant Governor of Punjab, had endorsed Brigadier Reginald Dyer's actions during the massacre. O'Dwyer died instantly on receiving two fatal shots at Caxton Hall, London. Three others injured included Lord Lawrence Dundas, the then Secretary of State for India and Burma; Lord Lamington, a former governor of Bombay; and Sir Louis Dane, a former Lieutenant-Governor of Punjab who was succeeded by Michael O'Dwyer.

Another daring act was that of Madan Lal Dhingra, an Indian student at University College London, who assassinated Sir William Hutt Curzon Wyllie, Political Aide-de-Camp to the Secretary of State for India and Head of the Secret Police, while attending the annual function hosted by the Indian National Association at the Imperial Institute of London. Dhingra fired five bullets in the face, killing his victim instantly. A Parsi doctor, Cawas Lalcaca, also got fatally wounded when he came to the rescue of Sir William.

The British judiciary in India was not spared either. Sir John Paxton Norman, acting Chief Justice of the Calcutta High Court, was stabbed to death while he was coming down the steps of the Calcutta Town Hall from his Court on September 21, 1871. The gruesome act was inflicted by one Mohammad Abdullah, who cited the judge's harsh punishments of revolutionaries as his motive.

These incidents collectively dispel the myth of a glamorous and unchallenged British Raj. Instead, they reveal a regime constantly under threat, facing deep resentment and resistance from its subjects. The British often portrayed their rule as a civilising mission, emphasising efficiency and loyalty. However, the reality was far from serene. The numerous assassinations and failed attempts on high-ranking officials highlight the complexities of colonial rule.

The myth of the British Raj's glamour dissipates in the face of persistent and often violent opposition. It becomes clear that the British Raj was anything but a seamless narrative of order and control. As one reflects on this tumultuous legacy, my humble couplet offers a fitting summation:

Pur shikoh tha tera andaz-e-hukumrani lekin,

Is ki rangeeni mein dono ka lahu shamil hai.