AFTER the gruesome account of British atrocities after the War of Independence in 1857, one of the blackest chapters in the history of British rule in India was the cold-blooded murder of two sons and a nephew of King Bahadur Shah Zafar at the hands of Captain William Hodson.
This evil deed, committed on September 20, 1857, was supposed to be in retaliation to some cruel acts which the English in Delhi had been subjected to when the so-called sepoys’ mutiny broke out in May that year. This and other blood-thirsty deeds could not be condoned on grounds of a just revenge because, while the British reviled Indians for their arbitrary adherence to law of the jungle, they prided themselves on their own sense of law and justice. There was considerable hue and cry in Britain itself at the manner in which the princes had been put to death, but the British in India defended their excessive brutality by saying that the mutineers deserved no better treatment.
This account of the princes’ murder is based on letters to his brother, Rev George Hodson, in England, so there is no dispute about its veracity and gory details. The brother published a book in 1859 based on these letters, Twelve Years of a Soldier’s Life in India. Captain William Hodson himself died in India and is buried at Lucknow.
For almost a month after quelling the uprising in other parts of India, British forces had been trying to get into Delhi and had laid siege to it. Artillery fire from both sides was fierce and there was terrible loss of life. As the siege became more intense, the population began to evacuate and by September 15, King Bahadur Shah Zafar and his family had taken refuge in Humayun’s tomb along with a retinue of thousands.
Delhi was taken on September 22. A few days before that, some people, on behalf of the King, in particular his favourite consort, Zeenat Mahal, had started negotiations that his life and that of the male members of the family be spared. There had been a debate among the top British officers about what to do, but then General Wilson, who was commanding the attack on Delhi, agreed that the King’s life could be promised, but not that of the other men of the family.
The British position was that the King had to be somehow secured. Hodson left for Humayun’s tomb against advice not to risk his life and that of his men because there was a sizable force at the tomb protecting the King. However, bravado was almost second nature with him and he went. At the tomb, he sent in his ultimatum to the King to surrender, with the promise of his life and that of one boy (the son of Zeenat Mahal). After two hours, the King’s reply came that he would hand himself over to him.
Hodson’s army aide wrote thus to Rev Hodson: “You may picture to yourself the scene before the magnificent gateway with the milk-white domes of the tomb towering from within. Soon a procession began to come slowly out. First came Zeenat Mahal in a closed native conveyance. Her name was announced by an attendant. Then came the King in a palki, upon which Hodson rode forward and demanded his arms. Before giving them up, the King asked whether he was Hodson Bahadur and if he would repeat the promise made by the herald?
“Captain Hodson answered that he would, and repeated that the government had been graciously pleased to promise him his life and that of Zeenat Mahal’s son on condition of his yielding himself quietly. The old man then gave up his arms which Hodson handed over to his orderly, still keeping his own sword drawn in his hand. The same ceremony was gone through with the boy (Jumma Bakhsh) and the march towards the city began. The palkis only went at foot pace, with his handful of men around them, followed by thousands of the loyal crowd.”
The next day, Hodson and his aide left for the tomb again with 100 men. They halted half-a-mile away and sent in a message that the princes must give themselves up. After half-an-hour a query came to ask if the princes lives were promised, to which Hodson replied, “It has to be an unconditional surrender.” The princes then decided to give themselves up, despite shouts from thousands of the faithful to charge on Hodson and his men. But the princes knew there was no hope. They came out in a bullock chariot and got on to the road to Delhi.
After collecting the arms at the tomb, Hodson and his aide caught up with the chariot five miles away. The increasing loyalist crowd pressed close to the troopers and assumed a hostile appearance. “What shall we do with them?” said Hodson to his companion, and they decided to shoot them there and then. The princes acknowledged themselves to be Mirza Mughal, the King’s nephew, Mirza Kishwar Saltanat and Mirza Abu Bakht, the nominal C-in-C and heir-apparent. As the aide writes: “There was no time to be lost. Hodson ordered them to strip and get again into the cart again. He then shot them with his own hand, one by one.”
He writes further: “The reaction among the witnesses to this gory drama was stupendous. The Muslims seemed to be dumbstruck, while the Sikhs shouted with delight. It was now four o’clock. Hodson rode into the city with the cart containing the dead bodies and had them placed in a public street where all might see them.”
As stated above, there was considerable debate in England on this issue. Most people were horrified by the manner in which the princes were shot dead by Hodson without even the semblance of a trial. However, Hodson was unmoved by criticism of any kind and wrote to his brother: “I am quite indifferent to the clamour.” Later, he gave many explanations why he had done the deed himself and why the princes had been ordered to take their clothes off and why their bodies were exposed to the public. But all that was of no purpose. The terrible deed had been done.
