'It is curious to note how nearly every military officer who held a command or a high position on the staff in Bengal when the Mutiny broke out, disappeared from the scene within the first few weeks, and was never heard of officially again. . . . Two Generals of divisions were removed from their commands, seven Brigadiers were found wanting in the hour of need, and out of the seventy-three regiments of Regular Cavalry and Infantry which mutinied, only four Commanding Officers were given other commands, younger officers being selected to raise and command the new regiments.'

Despite the strains to which he was subjected, Sita Ram remained loyal, and so no doubt did many others of his kind about whom we are never told. The mutineers considered him to be a traitor and carried him off to Lucknow to be put to death by torture but he was rescued by a roving party of European Moss-Troopers and eventually joined one of the new regiments raised in the Punjab to replace the Bengal regiments. This must have been the time he met his future Commanding Officer, Norgate, who was serving in the 12th Punjab Infantry, and who may have been the officer who relieved him of the responsibility of commanding the firing party that executed his son as a rebel.

After the fall of Multan and the total defeat of the Sikhs at Gujerat, the English took possession of all the land of the Punjab, or Five Rivers. The mighty power of the Sikh nation became as dust and the mantle of rule descended upon the Sirkar, the great Company Bahadur. The sirdars were all taken prisoner and their troops, deprived of their weapons, were disbanded and sent to their homes. English regiments were stationed all over the Punjab—at Lahore, Wazirabad, Jhelum, Rawal Pindi, Attock, Peshawar, and many other places—without any further opposition. Truly, the English are a remarkable people; within six months barracks rose out of the ground as if by magic. The sahibs built houses, police were organized, and the country appeared as if it had belonged to the Sirkar for many years.

My regiment was now sent to Jullundur. Two regiments of old Sikh soldiers were enlisted for the Sirkar¹ and young Sikhs were taken into the native regiments. This annoyed the sepoys exceedingly, for the Sikhs were disliked by the Hindustanis who considered them to be unclean and were not permitted to associate with them. Their position was very uncomfortable for a long time but after a while this dislike to some extent disappeared. However, these men always kept to themselves and were regarded as interlopers by the older sepoys. They were never as smart as we were on parade and their practice of using curds to clean their long hair gave them an extremely disagreeable odour, but many of them became like Hindus after they had been away from their own country for a long time.

No wars took place for several years in Hindustan and nothing particular occurred apart from several innovations which were introduced into the Army, and into the Civil Courts, which caused great offence among the people.² In 1855 a small war broke out in Bengal with some jungle people called Santhals,³ and my regiment formed part of the force and was stationed near Raniganj, not far from Calcutta. It was there that I first saw the iron road and the steam monster and this was more wonderful than anything I had ever seen before. When I asked the people about it they said they believed that the English put some powerful demon into each iron box, and it was his efforts to escape which made the wheels turn round. However I saw the water put in, and the coals lighted under it, but I am so ignorant of how it works that if an officer had not told me that it was all the force of steam, I might easily have believed that this demon fed on wood, coal, or stones, and drank gallons of water.

I went down to Calcutta in the train but it went so fast that it nearly took away my senses. As it neared Calcutta all kinds of low caste people entered the train and behaved as if they were equal to everyone. This is not good and caused great annoyance to many. I was amazed by what I saw in Calcutta but what is the use of describing it to you, my Lord, who know it so well? The ships—what can I possibly say? They were a hundred times larger than I had expected. No wonder the sahibs can travel all over the world. Each ship could carry a regiment. The Lord sahib's house⁴ was very big, and if every nobleman in England lives in a house as big as that, what a wonderful country England must be! I noticed in this magnificent city that the sahibs seldom spoke to each other and I was told they did not know one another. But can this be possible if they all come from such a small island?

The Santhals used bows, arrows, and large sharp axes, but they always dispersed when we fired on them. At first it was reported that they used poisoned arrows, and for this reason they were much feared, but we soon discovered that this was not the case. After a good deal of marching through thick jungle, and after guarding the main road by the Sone river throughout one hot weather, the rebellion was put down and my regiment was sent to ————. I was told by some of the Santhals that they rebelled because they could obtain no justice from the Civil Courts. They had no money with which to bribe the native officials and their complaints were all against the rich landlords and moneylenders, who had managed to get these simple folk into their clutches. I cannot vouch for the truth of this but it was certainly a curious war. In one part of the jungle we were firing at them, while in another the Sirkar was providing them with cart-loads of rice.

There was now a rumour that the Sirkar was going to take Oudh from the Nawab. This led to great excitement within the army, which was largely composed of men from Oudh. Many of them did not much care whether the Sirkar took Oudh or not but these were men who owned no property there. Nevertheless an undefined dislike and disquiet took possession of all of us. During the year [1856] the Sirkar removed the Nawab to Calcutta and took over the government of the Kingdom of Oudh. Regiments of local infantry and cavalry were formed, officered by English officers, and a number of Assistant Commissioner sahibs were brought in. Many of these officers came from the Bombay and Madras Armies and were totally ignorant of the language, manners, and customs of the people, and the same was true of all the sahibs who came from Bengal from the college.⁵ The occupation of the country was effected without any open resistance at the time. It took place so quickly that the people did not have time to combine against it but the minds of all the Taluqdars⁶ and headmen were excited against the Sirkar, which in their view had acted dishonourably, and had been unfair to the Nawab.⁷ There were plenty of interested people to keep this feeling alive. They assured everyone that the estates of the rich would soon be confiscated by the Sirkar, which could easily manipulate the law courts to show that the present owners had no right to these estates. The truth was that so many people in Oudh had acquired property by methods which the Government would never recognize that they began to fear an inquiry. Since all these people had large numbers of relations, retainers, and servants living with them, who were all interested parties, it explains the great excitement prevailing in Oudh at the time, and consequently throughout the Sirkar's army.

It is my humble opinion that this seizing of Oudh filled the minds of the sepoys with distrust and led them to plot against the Government. Agents of the Nawab of Oudh and also of the King of Delhi were sent all over India to discover the temper of the army. They worked upon the feelings of the sepoys, telling them how treacherously the foreigners had behaved towards their king. They invented ten thousand lies and promises to persuade the soldiers to mutiny and turn against their masters, the English, with the object of restoring the Emperor of Delhi to the throne.

They maintained that this was wholly within the army's powers if the soldiers would only act together and do as they were advised.

It chanced that about this time the Sirkar sent parties of men from each regiment to different garrisons for instruction in the use of the new rifle.⁸ These men performed the new drill for some time until a report got about, by some means or other, that the cartridges used for these new rifles were greased with the fat of cows and pigs. The men from our regiment wrote to others in the regiment telling them of this, and there was soon excitement in every regiment. Some men pointed out that in forty years' service nothing had ever been done by the Sirkar to insult their religion, but as I have already mentioned the sepoys' minds had been inflamed by the seizure of Oudh. Interested parties were quick to point out that the great aim of the English was to turn us all into Christians, and they had therefore introduced the cartridge in order to bring this about, since both Mahommedans and Hindus would be defiled by using it.⁹

I reported this curious story to my officer but no notice was taken. He only told me not to talk about it. Some time later an order was read out to the regiment from the Commander-in-Chief, or Governor-General sahib, saying that the Sirkar had not used any objectionable fat but that in future the men could make up their own cartridges and use their own grease. They could then be satisfied that the Sirkar had no intention whatsoever of hurting their feelings or breaking their caste. However the very reading out of this order was seized upon by many as proof that the Sirkar had broken our caste, since otherwise the order would never have been issued. What was the use of a denial if it had not been the Government's intention originally to break our caste?

It was the time of year for furlough¹⁰—that is the month of April—and it was my turn to go on leave. Before I went I told my Commanding Officer what I had heard, and I warned him that great madness had possessed the minds of all men. I could not say what shape the discontent would take, but I never thought the entire army would mutiny—only those men who might have suffered as a result of annexation of Oudh—and at present only a few of the really bad characters were disaffected. The Colonel sahib was of the opinion that the excitement, which even he

I arrived at my own village without hearing anything out of the ordinary on the road, but shortly afterwards we heard that the troops of Meerut and Delhi had risen and killed their officers, and had proclaimed the King of Delhi as Emperor. They were excited to revolt because a complete regiment¹² had been cast into jail, having been loaded with irons which destroyed their honour. This was such an extraordinary story that I refused to believe it, considering it a story invented to inflame the minds of the populace, but the rumour gathered strength daily, so I went to the Deputy Commissioner to enquire whether it was true. I could not do this openly without arousing suspicion, for at this time all the office staff were on the watch for all who came to the office. I went to the Deputy Commissioner's house with a petition, but the chaprassi¹³ refused to take it in to the sahib, saying the orders stated that no-one would be received except during office hours. However I managed to see the sahib, and I told him the tale I had heard and asked if there was any truth in it. The sahib said neither one thing nor the other but asked me a number of questions to discover how much I knew and what effect it was having on the minds of the people in my district. Finally the sahib admitted that he had heard the rumour—as I had known from the beginning by the questions he asked me—but said that the reports were very vague.

Had I asked some important Indian official, he would probably have denied any knowledge of the facts, and the more vehemently he denied any knowledge, the more I would have been certain that he knew all about it. Had I persisted, he would have attempted to discover my own feelings on the subject, and then, if I had committed myself by wishing the mutineers well, he would have informed against me, even though he himself might have been heart and soul in their favour.

By the time I returned to my village the whole place was talking about the news. In a short time the entire country was in a ferment¹⁴ and every regiment was reported to be ripe for mutiny. Reports came in every day that the regiments at the different stations had risen and killed their officers. I went again to see the Deputy Commissioner and offered to collect the furlough men of my own regiment, as well as any pensioners who could use arms. He thanked me and promised to let me know if I would be required to do this. Shortly afterwards the regiments at Lucknow, Sitapore, and other stations in Oudh broke out into open mutiny, and the country was overrun with sepoys from these regiments. Many of these men returned to their homes and had nothing further to do with the mutiny, other than having been in a regiment which had mutinied.

I now discovered that I was being watched. I was suspected of giving information to the civilian officials. One day a large party of sepoys from one of the mutinied regiments came through my village, and I tried to persuade them to go quietly to their houses. I explained to them the folly of going against the English Government, but these men were so intoxicated with the plunder they had taken, and by their hope of reward from the Emperor of Delhi, that they turned on me and were about to shoot me on the spot for having dared to speak out in favour of the English Government. They called me a traitor, and ended by taking me prisoner. They put heavy irons on me and a chain round my neck, declaring they would take me to Lucknow where they would receive a large reward for having captured me, and where my punishment would be to have molten lead poured down my throat for having dared uphold the English rule under which I had served and eaten salt for so many years. I was treated with every possible indignity. My captors boasted of the deeds they had done—how the sahibs had been so easily killed, or terrified into running away into the jungles like hares—and they were convinced that the English rule had ended throughout India. I never saw men behave in such a shameless fashion—not even during Holi.¹⁵ They all believed they would be made princes for what they had done, and debated among themselves about the offices they would be given by the King of Delhi. I could not discover what they had done, other than that they had shot down their officers on the parade ground, looted the station without any resistance, and set it on fire. While we were on the march some people informed them that there was a European regiment not far behind, and their boasting was redoubled. They would immediately annihilate it! This was what they said in public but inwardly they were terrified of coming up against the English. The European regiment never materialized, nor indeed was there the slightest truth in the report. I was relieved to hear this since they had told me that I should be shot at once if any Europeans appeared on the scene.

The leader of this party was a sepoy, although there were two subedars with it. He came one day and showed me a proclamation from the King of Delhi. It called upon all the sepoys to rise and destroy the English, promising great rewards and promotion if the men of any regiment would mutiny and kill their officers. It stated that the English Sirkar intended to make all Brahmins into Christians, which had in fact been proved correct, and in proof of it one hundred Padres were about to be stationed in Oudh.¹⁶ Caste was going to be broken by forcing everyone to eat beef and pork. The sepoys were exhorted not to allow this to happen, but to fight for their religion and drive the detested foreigners out of the country. It also stated that the king had received information from the Sultan of Turkey that all the English soldiers had been destroyed by the Russians;¹⁷ there were only left the few regiments remaining in India; and these were all separated by great distances and could easily be surrounded and destroyed. This proclamation was printed on yellow paper and was said to have been issued by order of the king. Every man who heard it believed every word of it. Even I was impressed by it. I had never known the Sirkar to interfere with our religion or our caste in all the years since I had been a soldier, but I was nevertheless filled with doubt. I remembered the treatment of many regiments with regard to field allowance—how it had first been promised and then withheld. I could not forget that the Sirkar had seized Oudh without due cause.

I had also remarked the increase of Padre sahibs during recent years, who stood up in the streets of our cities and told the people that their cherished religion was all false, and who exhorted them to become Christians. They always maintained that they were not employed by the Sirkar, but how could they have acted like this without the Government's sanction? Everyone believed that they were secretly employed by the Government; why else should they take such trouble? Then I remembered how the Sirkar had been my protector, and that I had eaten its salt for over forty years, and I was determined never to betray it so long as it continued to rule but to do all that I could to support it. But, my Lord, you must not forget that I was bound with chains at this time, and to all appearance being taken to a terrible death. As each day passed and I heard that city after city, garrison after garrison, had fallen into the hands of the local population, I must confess that the thought passed through my mind that the mighty Company's rule was passing away. All its guns had been captured, and also all its arsenals—how could I help thinking otherwise? However I still had faith in the incredible good fortune of the Sirkar, which had always been so wonderful and marvellous. I also believe that those who had broken their word and committed such crimes could not expect to have good fortune for long.

When the party of sepoys with whom I was drew near to Lucknow, from some orders they pretended to have received direct from the Nana of Bithur¹⁸ the route was changed and they marched towards Cawnpore and crossed over the river. While on the march, however, our party was surprised by a troop of mounted sahibs¹⁹ It was early morning, just before the dawn, and we were attacked so suddenly that these brave warriors, so far from attempting to fight and annihilate the Europeans, fled into the jungle. Luckily for me, they forgot to carry out their threat to shoot me. I was pulled out of the pony trap in which I was travelling and narrowly escaped being shot by one of these trooper sahibs who thought I was a wounded or sick sepoy. He had not noticed my chains and could not understand Hindustani. Luckily there was an officer nearby who came up, heard my story, and saw my chains, which were very convincing proof of my story. He gave orders for my chains to be knocked off and took me to the officer commanding who wrote down my statement, my name, and my regiment. He was also very anxious to learn of the conditions in Oudh, and whether I had seen or heard of any sahibs or ladies in the jungles. The last English officer I had seen was the Deputy Commissioner of -------, who was, when I left, carrying on his work as usual but this was a month ago.

As I was not a very good horseman, the Captain sahib could not turn me into a trooper but when he found out that I could read and write Persian, he made me interpreter for the Troop. He also gave me a certificate of the account of my recapture etc. I went about with this rissalah²⁰ for about six weeks, during which time it destroyed several bands of mutineers and one day had a hand-to-hand fight with a party of regular cavalry. They fired off their pistols and made off as hard as they could although they were three times the size of our party. Nineteen sowars²¹ were killed and twenty-one of the best of the Government's horses were taken. We lost five men killed and seven wounded. After this our Troop returned to Cawnpore, which had been re-taken twice by the English. Through the kindness of my Captain—may the shadow of greatness always surround him—he took me to the officer commanding a Punjab regiment,²² and I was taken on the strength of this corps as a supernumerary Jemadar and attached to it. This regiment was engaged in several actions, and also before Lucknow. We pursued the mutineers right into Nepal and I passed the old place again where I had been so frightened by the elephants forty years previously. All this is so well known that I need not tell it again, but in no fight that I was in—and they were not a few—did I ever see the mutineers, be they Hindus or be they Mahommedans, ever make a good stand and fight. Usually they stood the first discharge and then took to flight—if they could not find shelter behind walls or trees. I am told it was tough work at Delhi. I was not there, but the sepoys could not have fought well to have allowed an English force of under 10,000 defeat 70,000, with the latter in possession of all the houses and fortifications.

One day, in one of the enclosed buildings near Lucknow, a great number of prisoners were taken. These were nearly all sepoys. They were all brought in after the fight to the officer commanding my regiment, and in the morning the order came that they were all to be shot. It happened that it was my turn to command the firing party. I asked the prisoners their names and their regiments. After hearing some five or six, one sepoy said he belonged to a certain regiment which was my son's. I naturally inquired whether he had known my son, Ananti Ram, of the Light Company. He answered that that was his own name. However this is a very common name, and because I had always imagined that my son must have died from the Sind fever, since I had never heard from him, it did not at first strike me. But when he told me that he came from Tilowee, my heart leapt in my mouth. Could he be my long lost son? There was no doubt about it, for he gave my name as his father, and fell down at my feet imploring my pardon. He had mutinied with the rest of his regiment and gone to Lucknow. Once the deed had been done, what else could he do? Where could he have gone, even if he had wanted to escape?

The prisoners were to be shot at four o'clock in the afternoon and I must be my son's executioner! Such is fate! I went to the Major sahib and requested that I might be relieved of this duty as a very great favour. He was very angry and said he would bring me before a court-martial for trying to shirk my duty. He would not believe I was a faithful servant of the English Government—he thought my real sympathies were with the mutineers—and he would not listen to me any further. At last my feelings as a father got the better of me and I burst into floods of tears. I told him that I would shoot every one of the prisoners with my own hands if he ordered me but I confessed that one of them was my own son. The Major declared that I was only making up an excuse to avoid having to shoot my own brethren but at last his heart seemed to be touched. He ordered my unfortunate son to be brought before him and questioned him very strictly.

I shall never forget this terrible scene. Not for one moment did I consider requesting that his life should be spared—that he did not deserve. Eventually the Major came to believe in the truth of my statement and ordered me to be relieved from this duty. I went to my tent bowed down with grief which was made worse by the gibes and taunts of the Sikhs²³ who declared I was a renegade. In a short time I heard a volley. My son had received the reward for mutiny! He showed no fear but I would much rather that he had been killed in battle. Through the kindness of the Major I was allowed to perform the funeral rites over my misguided son. He was the only one of the prisoners over whom it was performed, for the remainder were all thrown to the jackals and the vultures.²⁴

I had not heard from my son since just after my return