In the City of Gold and Silver (7 page)

 

At 8 o'clock in the morning of February 4th, Colonel Outram, accompanied by two officers, arrives at the royal palace where he is received by unarmed guards. A heavy silence reigns in the deserted living rooms usually full of busy courtiers, and the few servants he does encounter refuse to meet his gaze.

Surrounded by his ministers, the sovereign is waiting for him in the Council Hall. The resident has barely crossed the threshold when the king rushes over to embrace him warmly, as if welcoming a long-awaited friend rather than a judge who is about to announce his sentence.

Uncomfortable with this unexpected display of affection, Sir James has some difficulty disengaging himself.

“Your Majesty! Please!”

And withdrawing to a respectful distance, he declares:

“Your Majesty, I have a message for you from his Excellency the Governor General Lord Dalhousie, representative of the honourable East India Company.”

In his most official tone, Colonel Outram announces to the king that the Company finds itself obliged to break the treaty of 1801 allying it with the kingdom of Awadh, given the king's multiple breaches of the obligations set out in the aforesaid treaty. The Company thus demands that the king sign a new treaty consisting of seven articles in which he recognises that he has constantly and publicly betrayed all his commitments and consequently, he accepts that the exclusive administration of all the state of Awadh's civil and military affairs will henceforth and forever be under the responsibility of the honourable Company. The Company will also freely dispose of all the state's income in the manner it sees fit. For its part, in its great magnanimity, the Company guarantees the king a pension of one hundred and fifty thousand rupees per annum, as well as the respect of his titles and his authority over his Court.

Although the resident was prepared for protests, he did not expect the outburst of sobs and moans the verdict provokes. In tears, Wajid Ali Shah reminds him of his own and his ancestors' loyalty to the East India Company; they have always been its most devoted allies and have never hesitated to help in difficult times. He will not stoop so low as to specify the amounts, but everyone knows the enormous sums lent and never reclaimed. To say nothing of the cost of maintaining an army imposed by the Company, the numerous constructions required to house the resident, his retinue and his administration, as well as the multiple and incessant expenditures necessary to ensure the comfort of his increasingly intrusive guests.

In a dramatic gesture, the king even tears off his turban, the symbol of his sovereignty, and cries out in a heart-rending voice:

“I no longer have any power, how could my humble person conclude a treaty with the all-powerful Company?”

For hours, the phlegmatic resident reiterates that he is only obeying orders, and if the king does not sign his abdication, in addition to the kingdom, he will forfeit all the advantages conceded to him. He has, however, underestimated the monarch, who, to his great surprise, obstinately refuses to give in, indifferent to both promises and threats.

“I will appeal to the governor general in Calcutta. I will even go all the way to London to demand justice from Queen Victoria!”

Infuriated by what he, as a true English gentleman, considers a disgraceful pantomime, Sir James Outram finally terminates the meeting:

“Your Majesty has three days to decide. If on February 7th at midday, he has not signed, the East India Company will take permanent and exclusive control of the state and Your Majesty will be divested of all his privileges.”

 

On February 7th, 1856, the annexation of the state of Awadh is officially proclaimed, and in Calcutta, the Governor General Lord Dalhousie notes complacently:

“Today, our most gracious queen has five million subjects and one million three hundred thousand pounds of revenue more than she had yesterday.”

In Lucknow, however, events do not unfold as well as expected. Convinced that the population, having been exploited and tyrannised by an irresponsible and corrupt government, would enthusiastically welcome the new administration, the British are taken aback by the Lucknawis' passive resistance. While awaiting the outcome of his visits to Calcutta and London, the king has directed his subjects to obey the new authorities, so there are no demonstrations, but petitions circulate, demanding that
Jan-e-Alam
, “the beloved of the world,” remain sovereign.

Sir James has no use for these protests that he claims are inspired by the Court. He cannot, however, ignore the army and the administration's refusal to join his government. Disregarding an offer of very high salaries, the senior civil servants and the military personnel of the recently dissolved royal army avoid the colonel, who intends to incorporate them into the Company's rank. To his great displeasure, neither the promises of fabulous pay, nor the offer to recruit both young and old, are successful in convincing the soldiers. At the risk of being declared rebels, some officers bluntly declare: “Enough of your proposals! The men have eaten their king's salt
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for decades, they cannot serve his enemies now!”

*

As for Wajid Ali Shah, realising that to demand justice from the governor general, the Company's representative, would be a waste of time, he has decided to go all the way to England to plead his cause before the queen and parliament. He intends to present the proof of his constant efforts since his accession to follow the orders imposed by successive residents, and to explain how, while urging him to enact reforms, they systematically deprived him of any means of initiating or discharging them. Some of his former ministers would be able to testify to this. In addition, there are reams of documents proving his statements and the bad faith of the Company's officials. Queen Victoria can only recognise his loyalty and the incessant intriguing by those who claim to be paragons of morality.

For his part, fearing that the East India Company's questionable methods would be exposed and that the British press would discover that the “guilty party is not who one thinks it is,” Colonel Outram resolves to do everything in his power to prevent the king's departure. Under false pretences, he places the ministers who are to accompany the sovereign under house arrest: the finance minister, the person responsible for the government archives and even the prime minister, although he is close to the British but critical of the annexation. The colonel also seizes the official documents and public acts that could support the king's arguments, leaving the latter with no means of pleading his cause.

Contrary to the resident's calculations however, Wajid Ali Shah does not give up. He will go and throw himself at the queen's feet, as he has every faith in her impartiality and wants to be heard.

Colonel Outram is furious. Abandoning all semblance of civility, he spares the king no humiliation and will stop at no malice to prevent his departure. As he dares not detain him by force, he has the twenty-two members of the sovereign's inner circle arrested, his closest supporters chosen to accompany him, and he goes as far as confiscating all his carriages.

 

From her apartments in Chattar Manzil Palace, where the king's wives and relatives live, Hazrat Mahal follows these events in great detail thanks to Mammoo's invaluable network. He has his informers both within the Residency and within the palace walls.

She is proud of her king, who displays such determination confronting this ordeal, but deplores the fact that he has not followed Rajah Jai Lal's advice. She had tried to talk to him, but he had frowned at her first words. He, usually so patient, suggested she return to her poems instead.

The young woman seriously doubts the king will obtain satisfaction from Queen Victoria. How could she challenge the Company, which in a few decades has brought the Crown three-quarters of India with its immense resources? Resources that have allowed England to become the world's leading industrial and commercial power.

These are all questions that are readily debated in the zenana.

Smiling to herself, Hazrat Mahal remembers the amazement of the British ladies when the Queen Mother invited them to high tea. They only talked about their wardrobes and knick-knacks, convinced these were the sole subjects accessible to these poor cloistered women, until, exasperated, the Queen Mother had begun to question them about their new prime minister's programme; questions they had been quite incapable of answering.

For these
memsahib
s,
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convinced of their superiority, reclusion implies ignorance and submission. They are far from imagining the complexity of a harem and the extent to which, if one wants to go beyond the condition of mere odalisque, one must remain constantly alert and up-to-date with everything, in order to be able to steer a clear path through the innumerable pitfalls.

Reclusion is a litmus test that destroys the weak and makes the indomitable stronger. In order to attain their goals, these extraordinary women have to deploy a wealth of intelligence, subtlety and tenacity. This is how Oriental women, these “submissive creatures,” whether shut up in a harem, confined to their homes or hidden under their veils, generally control the person who imagines himself to be their lord and master.

Hazrat Mahal's thoughts gradually return to her husband: why has he refused to fight? She had reacted fiercely when she had heard Rajah Jai Lal accuse him of weakness, but in the light of the tragedy they are currently going through, she has her doubts . . . Accustomed to the indulgent lifestyle at Court, is Wajid Ali Shah still capable of making difficult decisions? She promises herself she will do everything possible to infuse him with some of her boundless energy. He will have great need of it during his mission in England, which will certainly be fraught with a thousand obstacles. She is determined not to remain in Calcutta with the other Mahals, and intends to convince the Queen Mother to take her along in order to entertain the king, to make him laugh and to versify with him.

 

On March 13th, 1856, after six weeks of confrontation that no one, not even his friends, would have believed him capable of, Wajid Ali Shah leaves his beloved town, saluted by a mixed crowd of Hindus and Muslims in tears. They accompany him for miles, showering blessings upon him, begging him not to abandon them and to return soon.

Hazrat Mahal is not among the travellers.

 

The day before they were to depart, the Queen Mother had summoned her.

“I am sorry, my child, but despite my insistence, my son decided not to take you along.”

The young woman felt the earth slipping away from under her feet.

“But why?” she cried out, distraught. “What have I done to displease His Majesty?”

“Nothing, he planned to take you with him, but you must know you have powerful enemies in the zenana. The first wife, Alam Ara, made a terrible scene, swearing that if you went she would remain in Lucknow with her son, the crown prince. The king tried hard to make her change her mind, but she would hear nothing of it and he was forced to give in.”

He was forced to give in! Is he not the king? No one, not even Alam Ara, can impose their will on him. But he hates confrontation . . . and for the sake of peace he abandons me . . .
 

She felt as if she was caught in a stranglehold, she found it difficult to breathe; her legs no longer held her up, she . . .

When she regained consciousness, she saw the Queen Mother by her side, caressing her forehead with a gentleness unusual for this woman, reputed for her coolness.

“Do not work yourself up into such a state, my child. My son and I expect a great deal from you. You will be our eyes and ears here, and you will pass everything you consider important on to us. The king appreciates your intelligence and loyalty. He knows you will not disappoint him.”

“Oh, I would do anything to be of service to him!” she stammered, still overwhelmed by emotion. “But I do not know . . . Thousands of miles apart and watched by the Angrez, how will we be able to communicate?”

“You will find ways. The king trusts you. Never forget that he named you ‘the pride of women.'”

In the months that followed, this sentence, which Hazrat Mahal often repeated to herself during her worst moments, became her most precious talisman.

T
he annexation of Awadh scandalises public opinion throughout India.
The Hindu Patriot
37
writes:

 

“What is true of the common thief who steals an apple is also true of the ‘hero' who annexes a state. If, in the first case the offense against morality condemns the culprit, then how can the usurper not be condemned even more vehemently? Awadh is ill governed we are told, so let us annex Awadh. Hyderabad is oppressed, then let us depose its sovereign.

But if one follows this reasoning, no kingdom in the world will be safe any longer from its neighbour's aggression, inasmuch as accusations of bad government will fly the moment a powerful, unprincipled state wants to seize a weaker state unlucky enough to possess riches the former covets.”

 

Everyone considers this annexation pure and simple theft, and they are worried. If the British are capable of betraying their most faithful ally, then surely they are capable of anything! Who will their next victim be?

Yet these fears are soon to be forgotten, as by an extraordinary coincidence, this year, 1856, the Hindu festival of colours, Holi, and the Nowruz festival, marking the beginning of the new year for Shia Muslims, fall on the same day: Friday, March 21st. Throughout India there are continuous festivities.

In Lucknow though, a sense of mourning is tangible. The streets are silent, the marketplaces deserted and most of the shops shut. The king has been gone for eight days and no one feels like celebrating. People stay indoors lamenting, remembering happier times, neighbours visit each other to exchange scarce and uncertain news, but above all, everyone is concerned about the future that seems overshadowed by danger and threats.