Historical artefacts are curious objects. On the one hand inanimate and lifeless, on the other they are capable of transporting you to a different time and place, shining a light on the lives of long dead individuals. Through its captivating selection of items, Ranjit Singh: Sikh, Warrior, King at the Wallace Collection in London not only celebrates the life and legacy of the remarkable Mahārājā Ranjit Singh (1780-1839)—ruler of a vast territory within northwest South Asia—but also provides a valuable glimpse into the people of Punjab and the turbulent events that shaped the region during the first half of the nineteenth century.
Guest curated by Davinder Toor, a leading figure amongst Indian and Islamic arts collectors, the exhibit is made up of items gathered from a range of sources including the Wallace Collection, Royal Armouries, British Library, the Victoria and Albert Museum, and Toor’s personal collection.
Having previously visited the Wallace Collection and exhibitions such as Empire of the Sikhs and The Golden Temple of Amritsar: Reflections of the Past, I came in with high expectations. I am pleased to report that I did not leave disappointed.
The exhibition occupies the lower ground floor of Hertford House, a magnificent townhouse in Manchester Square. Upon entering its atmospheric and tastefully lit gallery, I was immediately drawn to the first exhibit, an illustration depicting a climatic scene from the 1710 battle for Sirhind. This battle, fought between the forces of Banda Singh Bahadur and Sirhind’s governor, Wazir Khan, gave rise to the first independent Sikh state.
The exhibition followed a roughly chronological pattern, starting from events in the eighteenth century that shaped the rise of Ranjit Singh, through the various phases of his reign, and ending with events after his death.
As I progressed through the exhibition, I was glad to have picked up the complimentary audio guide (available in both English and Punjabi). There were detailed descriptions available for the majority of exhibits, and the audio guide provided fascinating context to the scenes depicted in the paintings and alerted me to hard-to-spot details on the arms and armour. For instance, it drew my attention to the depiction of Gurū Nanak on a cuirass (a plate of armour for protecting the torso), additionally informing me that the sixteen figures shown around the edge of a shield were the Mahārājā with his family and key courtiers.
Many of the miniature paintings capture pivotal moments from Ranjit Singh’s reign. One of the most intriguing is undoubtedly his encounter with Jaswant Rao Holkar, the Maratha leader who fled from the British to Punjab, seeking support to resist British expansion.
The scene captures the twenty-five year old Ranjit Singh (in red) in discussion with Holkar. Both the British and Holkar sent emissaries to Ranjit Singh, who met with both parties. Upon learning that Holkar had also invited the Afghans to invade, or perhaps recognizing the formidable power of the British forces, Ranjit decided to support the British and eject Holkar from his territory. Khushwant Singh, in Ranjit Singh: Maharaja of the Punjab writes:
“Holkar and Ranjit sized up each other’s character in the short period of their association. When Holkar discovered that despite his sermons on patriotism and Hindu-Sikh unity, Ranjit Singh had sent his uncle, and Fateh Singh Ahluwalia, to treat with the English, he said tauntingly: ‘From the outskirts of the Punjab I have searched for a man of courage and valour to join me in my battles… but the more I searched, the more I found he was elusive. There is nothing in the world except man, but the real one is wanting.’ Ranjit Singh’s comment on the double dealing of Holkar was as brief and blunt as one might expect of a Punjabi peasant. Holkar, he said, was a puccā harāmzādā, an absolute bastard.”
This meeting offers a glimpse into Ranjit Singh’s tactical shrewdness: making a calculated decision to align with the British to safeguard his kingdom ultimately led to the treaty of ‘perpetual friendship’ in 1809. This paved the way for a period of stability, but also checked Ranjit Singh’s ambition to expand south of the Sutlej river.
However, it also prompts an intriguing ‘what-if’ counterfactual: could a combined force of Sikhs and Marathas have threatened British dominion in India?
As I continued to navigate my way through the exhibition, I was impressed by the evident opulence and exceptional craftsmanship of the Sikh court. Notable highlights from the exhibition included the rare opportunity to see the intricately adorned back of Ranjit Singh’s throne, as well as an array of highly decorated swords, shields, and muskets, for the most part linked to the emperor or key members of his court.
The profound reverence in which Sikhs hold weapons could be seen in the marvellous decoration of what remained highly functional arms. As I learned, swords were judged for worthiness with a test of cutting a freshly caught fish on a cotton quilt across the thickest part of the gills in a single stroke.
There were many other noteworthy pieces such as the 1850s photograph of Lal Singh, reputedly a traitor to the Sikh Kingdom, as well as the letter from King Louis Phillipe I of France expressing a desire to establish diplomatic relations with the Sikh Kingdom, which likely pleased the Francophile Ranjit Singh.
However, two of the pieces truly captured my imagination.
The Cremation Scene
The first is a painting of the cremation of the Mahārājā. Said to be completed shortly after the event, it shows the Sikh ruler lying on a funeral pyre, surrounded by four of his wives and their maid servants—one of whom was said to be twelve years old—preparing to commit satī, being cremated alive. Khushwant Singh’s monograph provides a description by a contemporary European journalist:
“Having arrived at the funeral pyre made of sandalwood, the corpse was placed on it. Rani Guddan sat down by its side and placed the head of the deceased on her lap, while the other ranis with seven slave girls seated themselves around – with every mark of satisfaction on their countenance. The last prayers were said by members of all communities, Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs. Brahimns performed their prayers from the Shastras; Sikh priests recited passages from the Granth Sahib; and Mussalmans accompanied them with ‘Ya Allah, Ya Allah’. The prayers lasted nearly an hour. ‘At the time fixed by the Brahmins, Koonwar Khurruck Singh set fire to the pile and the ruler of the Punjab with four ranees and seven slave girls was reduced to ashes. A small cloud appeared in the sky over the burning pile and having shed a few drops cleared away. No one saw a hope of relief but in resignation, Raja Dhian Singh attempted four times to jump into the burning pile, but was withheld by the multitude…The heart is rent on attempting a description of the distress and lamentations in the palace amongst the ranees and amongst the citizens of every age, sex and religion.”
The unsettling, horrific nature of this scene outlines just how difficult it is to reconcile and relate to the complex reality of the culture of Punjab during this period. Far from the fictionalised and sanitised narratives that are peddled today, it highlights significant themes which deserve more attention and should not be airbrushed from history. Why was satī, a practice condemned by the Sikh Gurūs, practised at the highest level of a Sikh-ruled society? At the same time, the fact that Brahmins, Muslims, and Sikhs all participated in the prayers for a Sikh emperor shows a level of plurality which is almost impossible to comprehend today.
Bhāī Maharaj Singh
Of all the sections in the exhibition, I found the story of Bhāī Maharaj Singh most striking.
Largely unknown today, Bhāī Maharaj Singh was a thorn in the British occupation of Punjab. A true ‘warrior-saint’, the revered spiritual guide left his sanctuary in Naurangabad to fight in the Anglo-Sikh wars and inspired many Punjabis to fight for independence during the Second Anglo Sikh War. As described in this article by Harinder Singh, Bhāī Maharaj Singh appealed to the people of Punjab to continue the struggle even after Rājā Sher Singh surrendered at Rawalpindi:
“You own large estates now which you want to save by surrendering to the British. But let me tell you, even by accepting all the conditions of the British you may not be able to save your estates because you will be on the mercy of the conquerors and will have to accept whatever crumbs they throw towards you. It would be better if you fight and get martyrdom rather than live a wretched life of a slave.”
He continued his resistance after the Sikh Empire’s annexation in 1849, developing a plan to rescue Mahārājā Dalip Singh from Lahore and continuing to exhort the people of Punjab to fight the occupation. This led to the British offering 10,000 rupees for his capture. He was eventually seized through intelligence from an informant and transferred secretly to a jail in Singapore, where he died on 5th July, 1856 without receiving a trial. As the same article relates, the commissioner of Jalandhar wrote upon his capture:
“I am convinced that Bhai Maharaj Singh is a remarkable person. He has all the attributes of a saint. He has unusual self-control and self-confidence. He seems to have the power to foresee the coming events and has the qualities of a great leader whom people would like to obey.”
I have always wondered why in the immediate aftermath of the occupation of Punjab there was not more resistance from the last state to fall in Britain’s conquest of India. The measures the British took to capture Bhāī Maharaj Singh show how afraid they were of resistance within the newly conquered kingdom. Looking at his starkly simple personal belongings confiscated at the time of his arrest left me with a feeling of melancholy.
There are a couple of videos online such as this overview by Davinder Toor and this detailed documentary, but I believe that the story of this courageous Sikh leader deserves more attention.
I really enjoyed my time at the exhibition. The audio guide proved very instructive, and I highly recommend using it. However, I could not help but feel that having a live guide available to offer additional context and answer questions would have enhanced the experience even further. With such a rich history behind these objects, it can be challenging for a layperson to fully appreciate them without additional guidance.
When I asked Davinder about his aims for the exhibition, he offered these words:
“Ranjit Singh: Sikh, Warrior, King is a unique landmark exhibition that presents glittering weaponry, intricate miniature paintings and exquisite jewellery from the Sikh Empire. For the first time in the Wallace Collection’s history, Sikh holdings are placed in their historic and artistic context, showing them alongside other rare works of art. It was an honour and privilege to have been able to guest-curate this show which we all hope will not only attract new audiences but also highlight a shared heritage that goes on to inspire a generation!”
I certainly concur in his hope that this exhibition inspires more research into the heritage and history of Punjab.
Reflecting on my experience, I remain deeply impressed by the elegance of the objects that serve as tangible evidence of the sophistication of Punjabi heritage. They comprise a fitting testament to the remarkable Mahārājā, who forged unity in the Punjab like no other since.
However, alongside this admiration, I also feel a tinge of sadness, as I believe that the greatest legacy of Punjab lives in its largely neglected intangible heritage. Traditions such as Gurbāṇī Sangīt (the musical system of singing Gurbāṇī) and Śastar Vidiā (the science of weapons) represent the finest treasures the land of five rivers has to offer the world. There are few today knowledgeable about their true forms. I hope that efforts to preserve these extraordinary, endangered traditions will be successful, ensuring that they continue to inspire and enrich the lives of future generations.
I would like to express my gratitude to Nihal Singh for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts on this exhibition, and for his invaluable editorial suggestions. Tickets for the exhibition can be purchased here. I wholeheartedly encourage everyone to make the time to visit.
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Randhir Singh Bilkhu