Prof. Sharif al Mujahid

In the annals of Indian history May 5, 1799, is a date to be reckoned with. The date which witnessed a blood curding drama. A drama, grim in outlook, sanguine in theme and disastrous in consequences. And that was enacted capriciously on the plains of Seringapatam, Mysore, in present day Karnataka. On this dismal day were interlocked in mortal combat the forces of freedom, of patriotism, of a dignified and honorable living with those of imperialism, exploitation and servitude. And thanks to the most deep-laid treachery “within the house”, the day was lost to the latter. It not only meant the catastrophic burial of one of the most glorious kingdoms of our history but also the storming of the last bastion of Indian freedom. Indeed, it signified the final buffing out of the torch of Indian liberty and the rise of the British power across the Indian horizon. Equally significant, it brought in its trail death, disaster and destruction for all that is Indian: their culture and civilization, their ambitions and aspirations, their language and literature. For now, the ghost of British imperialism had a field day: stalking and strutting about the land, reducing whole towns to ashes, exploiting and emasculating the people beyond redemption, and imposing its twons culture, civilization and mode of life.

Indeed, it was the darkest hour of India’s humiliation, as of that day. A fall that was no less significant than that of Granada in Andalusia, in 1492. Coming some three centuries late, this center of faith and freedom as Seringapatam was, shone lustrously as a beacon light to all ships of Indian freedom amidst a tamed sea of protectorates, subsidiaries and “faithful allies”. And the moment it was stormed and razed to the ground, the ships lost their moorings and going down one after another. Such was the core significance of the Fourth Mysore War, (1799).

INDIA IN THE 18TH

CENTURY

The last quarter of the 18th century witnessed a period of cataclysmic changes in the annals of Indian history. It was a decisive moment when India’s fate and future had to be decided upon for the next century and a half. The British had firmly laid the foundations of their empire in Calcutta and Madras; and the Mughal power was its last throes. Clouds, thick and dark, were apace and the gloomy specter of serfdom was coming nearer home. Under foreign intrigues, machinations and manoeuverings, India was a house divided against itself, the native princes resigning themselves to fratricidal wars, mutual bickerings and what not. The glory that was India had deserted long past; the strength of their arms had become a myth; and faith and determination they had abdicated in favour of British “protection.” Doom, disaster and destruction awaited them breathless and it seemed that the country had been earmarked for a life of unending slavery.

Such was the bleak picture that the subcontinent presented itself when providence fortuitously granted them one more chance to lead a life of honour and of freedom. That chance in the shape of the Tiger of Mysore who rose from the hilly tracts of this Indian State had cried: “India for Indians.” In fact Tipu (1752 – 1799) represented in his person the last hope of Indian freedom when the British were bent upon bringing the entire subcontinent in digestible tidbits under their tutelage. He sensed the danger and dedicated himself to the task of winning allies and presenting a common front against the foreign marauders before they forced him to a final show down. He corresponded with the Nizam; he extended his hand of friendship to the Marhattas; he wrote to King Zaman Shah of Afghanistan, to Napoleon Bonaparte and to the Caliph in Turkey. He pleaded with his countrymen to close their ranks and meet the enemy on a common ground. He also decided to build a fleet to gain mastery of high seas.

TREACHERY AND DECEIT

But treachery was afoot. The moves and motives of Tipu became an open book. Nothing happened in the Darya Daulat without the English not knowing it in a few hours. This secret service conducted by the “faithful friends” of the Company Bahadur gave the British an advantage greater than a thousand guns. They now knew the pawns on Tipu’s chess board all too well; the cards of the Mysore King now lay open on the table – open to counter moves by the British Cornwallis. Shore and Wellesley, one after another, began countermining his efforts. More and more trusted lieutenants of the Sultan were bought; trouble makers were sent to Afghanistan to create disaffection against Sultan Zaman Shah so that his attention might be diverted from India; and forged letters were communicated to the Peshwa, to create a wedge between Tipu and the Marhattas. Agreements were concluded with the Mehadies who had been exiled from Mysore and Napoleon was intercepted in the Mediterranean and held back. On all the fronts, their intrigues and dubious dealings won the day and the courageous Tipu was left all alone – to fiend for himself, to defend his fortress single-handed against the might and main of the British Confederacy.

While all these preparations were at hand, Wellesly carried on “friendly talks” with Tipu as a cover but once completed, the British General turned round and began accusing Tipu of breach of peace and faith, and that he was acting against the interest of the “Honourable” East India Company. No time was allowed to him to explain, much less to prepare for a show down. Even as he was trying to explain his conduct, an unprovoked, aggressive war was declared and the hordes of the Confederacy marched on Seringapatam in full strength under the command of the British.

Taking many circuitous routes and avoiding a trail of strength in the open, outside the fortress for which Tipu awaited impatiently at two places, the British forces appeared before the island all of a sudden on April 9 and laid siege, informed by traitors they erected batteries at strategic points facing a comparatively weak side.

On May 3, a breach was made and exactly at noon on the following day, an assault was made – “assault on a fort, guards of which waited impatiently to accord the invader a hearty welcome!” the friends of the Company in the army made the otherwise impossible task easy. Assisted by traitors General Baird could cross the ditch, enter the fort and reach the ramparts of the massive fort - all within seven minutes! Still the rank and file of the army was faithful to the Sultan. But at this precise moment that monument of treachery, deceit and fraud, Poornima of ill-fated memory, thought of a device to hold back the main bulk of the army from giving the invaders a stiff battle. While the fort was being stormed he began distributing pay to the soldiers. With the English being now the masters of the day, the sun of Sultanat-e-Khudadad had finally eclipsed.

THE LAST BATTLE

Tipu was on his dining table when he heard of the bullet shots. As he was taking the second morsel of his food, he was informed of the treachery and the attack. Shocked beyond words, he washed his hands and dashed for the scene of battle where his tiny band of faithful soldiers were disputing every inch of ground. As he approached the scene he found his army leaderless and rudderless; their ranks disrupted and deserted; and the English determined and struggling to press forward their small gains into complete victory, Syed Gaffar and his other faithful commanders had fallen, which Mir Sadiq, another major traitor, had closed the doors of Tipu’s inner fort as soon as he had stepped out. He knew that the battle was lost; he knew that he was fighting with his back to the wall. He paused for a while. The water gate was still at hand; escape was still possible. He weighed the pros and cons; he had to choose one of two courses still accessible to him – either to fly from the scene and save his life or to plunge into the battle and save not only his country’s honour but also the movement he had so long nursed, nurtured and nourished – the movement for freedom from foreign exploiters. But how could the man who fervently maintained that it is “better to live like a tiger for one day than to live for a hundred years like a jackal”, who ardently believed “as a man can only die once it does not matter when the period of his life terminates”, and whose indomitable courage and contempt of death found expression in the famous saying; “Better to die like a solider than to live like a miserable dependent on the infidels, in the list of their pensioned Rajas and Nawabs” – yes, how could the man who prided in such a blazing moment of honour and fame surrender his liberty of life? A solider to his fingertips, a patriot to the marrow of his bones and an inveterate enemy of foreign imperialists to his very death, he decided to give battle – and a furious one at that – even to the last moment when he fell dead, pierced by a numerous lancers and punctured by seven bullets.

Describing this pathetic scene of the battle, Faqir Mohammad in his famous poem; “The Fall of Seringapatam” (published in London Times) bemoaned:

“Three pairs of bullets struck his form,

“But the human lion yielded not;

“He roared and bravely fought.

“Then flew the final musket shot,

“That hit his brow and fell upon the steed.

“The lion reeled and dropped his shield.

“The steed collapsed and passed away.

“Wounded, naked lay the warrior brave,

“His sense then came back again,

“‘Courage,’ roared the King of slain,

“I am alive my land to save’…

“Shame to pray for peace with sword in hand!’

“Unto God I’ll yield and not to man’

“Beholding it the lion rose again

“Like a living statue, planted on the plain,

“Prepared to meet his doom

“The Briton met him on the scorching sand,

“In fierce collision met their swords,

“Like two stormy clouds that yield thunder bolt.

“The warrior’s sword passed through the Briton’s knee

“But the Briton raised his gun and fired.

“Shot him in his forehead and fate

“His blood gushed in a stream and bathed him red;

“The lion dropped his sword and fell –

“Like a fort wall shaken by the earth!!”

And thus fell the greatest soldier and Sultan of the day, Fateh Ali Tipu, a martyr to treachery within and deceit without, but only after giving, in the ringing words of a chronicler, an everlasting luster to the movement of Indian patriotism with his blood.

And within two decades the English became the masters of the whole sub-continent. Hence the fall of Seringapatam was not an isolated instance in the annals of Indian history but one of the most momentous one – the consequences of which were sharply projected into the future, casting their dark shadows across the length and breadth of India for centuries to come. It did not only did it spell the premature end of a King’s rule or that of a dynasty but also meant the grand failure of the last effectual effort of the Indian arms to check British advance in the sub-continent. More, it meant abject servitude, whole scale exploitation, unhindered emasculation and what all they bring in their wake namely, poverty, ignorance, squalor, retardation of national life, of culture and civilization for the teeming millions of India. And in that the inauspicious day of May 5, 1799, is indeed a date to be reckoned with.

(The writer is HEC Distinguished National Professor)