Tears of the Begums: Stories of Survivors of the Uprising of 1857
By Khwaja Hasan Nizami
Translated by Rana Safvi
Hachette, India
ISBN: 978-9393701145
267pp.

In 1857, a political movement popularly known as the Ghadar — an Urdu word translated as ‘mutiny’ or ‘rebellion’ in English — rocked the Subcontinent. With shared leadership from Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus, it intended to overthrow British rule in India. But this watershed moment in history, also known as the First War of Independence, could not achieve its purpose.

Instead of fleeing back to their island, the British East India Company deposed and exiled the last Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar II, to Burma [Myanmar]. A year later, the Company was liquidated and power was handed over to the British crown by the Government of India Act 1858.

At the time, around 3,000 royals lived in Delhi’s Red Fort, comprising the emperor, his immediate family and descendants of the previous salaateen [emperors]. Immediately after the fall of Delhi, the British secured the densely populated fort, demolished the other mansions of the salaateen and meted out harsh punishments, often based on false evidence, to the royals and their ‘loyalists’.

Some 20 years later, in 1879, Khwaja Hasan Nizami was born. This scion of a Sufi family had a keen interest in the lives of the Mughal royals, many of whom still lived in and around Delhi. Intending to document their lived histories, Nizami met them personally and wrote 12 books on the events that unfolded in 1857, each based on the survivors’ eyewitness accounts. The most popular book was titled Begumaat Ke Aansoo [Tears of the Begums], which was published in Hindi, Marathi and several other Indian dialects.

Rana Safvi’s translation of Khwaja Hasan Nizami’s documentation of what befell Mughal royalty after the First War of Independence of 1857 offers introspection and its prose is a joy to read

More than a hundred years later, Rana Safvi took up the task of translating Nizami’s chronicles into English. The well-known writer, scholar and translator is a passionate believer in India’s unique civilisational legacy, which she records through her writings — she has authored eight books on India’s culture, history and monuments — as well as podcasts and videos.

The ramifications of the failed uprising were catastrophic. Not only the Mughal empire, but an entire way of life was wiped away. The cultural calamity has been referenced by some writers, such as Ahmed Ali in his novel Twilight in Delhi, but so much more remains to be told. Thus, Safvi’s Tears of the Begums: Stories of Survivors of the Uprising of 1857 is a valuable effort in bringing Nizami’s factual research to a wider readership.

Safvi acknowledges that there are certain contradictions in the 29 heart-rending stories that make up the book but, considering the fact that the interviewees had experienced extreme trauma, and some were of fairly advanced age when they spoke to Nizami, these can be excused.

One account, ‘Bahadur Shah’s Daughter’, tells of Kulsum Zamani Begum and her escape from the Red Fort. “The pearly white marble palaces had been blackened by soot from the gunfire and cannon shots in the past four months. No one had eaten for a day and a half. Zainab, my daughter, was a year-and-a-half old and crying for milk. Neither I nor any of the foster mothers were lactating because of the hunger and trouble all around us. We sat disconsolately.”

Begum left the qila [fort] secretly at dawn, with three other women, on a bullock cart for the village of Kurali. There, they were robbed by the village women of all their jewellery and fine clothes. A well-to-do local named Basti took them in his cart to Ijara, where they hoped to be sheltered by Mir Faiz Ali, an old acquaintance of the family. However, Ali discourteously refused.

“Penniless and homeless, we were scared of the British forces chasing after us. Those who were eager to follow every glance of our eyes and obey even our slightest gestures had now turned away from us.” With great difficulty and extreme discomfort, but with loyal Basti by their side, they eventually reached Hyderabad and lived there for some time.

Begum’s husband, Mirza Ziauddin, earned a living by making and selling calligraphy and teaching the Holy Quran but, as British influence spread to Hyderabad, they lived in fear of being arrested and stayed more or less housebound. Whatever jewellery had escaped loot on the way to Hyderabad was sold off to meet financial needs.

Kale Miyan Sahib, the pir [spiritual master] of Badshah-i-Delhi, heard of their plight and arranged finances for them. They subsequently left for Makkah for the annual Hajj pilgrimage and Basti, who had steadfastly stood by them like a rock, was sent home with whatever reward they could afford for his invaluable services.

The family lived in Makkah for several years. When they returned to Delhi, the humiliation for the last Mughal emperor’s pampered daughter was immense: “[T]he British government pitied us and rationed a sum of 10 rupees per month for us. I laughed at this pension. They had taken away my father’s empire and offered us 10 rupees as compensation. But then I remembered, this land belongs to God and He gives it to whoever he wants and takes it as he pleases. Man has no role in these decisions.”

‘The Orphan Prince’s Miserable Eid’ is the account of the 10-year-old son of Mirza Dildar Shah, a close relative of Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar and, therefore, a Mughal prince. Dildar Shah’s wife was keen on sending their son to school, but the overindulgent father would not bear the separation, so the boy spent his time loitering on the streets. He learned to abuse everyone and his Baba Jaan [father] found this behaviour amusing.

Despite repeated advice from friends, Dildar Shah persisted in not educating his son. Then, he fell sick and left for the hereafter. The bereaved family was subsequently robbed of all possessions. For the first time in her life, his widowed princess ate food given in charity, all the while consoling her orphaned son who wanted new clothes and shoes for Eid, preparations for which were going on in every household.

The erstwhile princess pleaded with neighbours for utran [cast-offs] and presented them to the son, who was beyond delighted. But when the princeling found out he was dressed in cast-offs, he was enraged. He got into a scuffle at the Eidgah [where Eid prayers are offered] and ended up spending the rest of the day at a nearby dispensary, having his wounds attended to.

‘The Mendicant’s Gift’ features a time when the Red Fort bustled with life. One of the emperor’s relatives became engrossed in religion and, despite all the luxuries bestowed upon him, led a simple life. But he was extremely fond of personal grooming and clean clothes, and possessed various itr [non-alcoholic perfumes] that he used every time he went to pray.

His other obsession was a pair of sabzwar hens. When the 1857 ‘mutiny’ occurred, the prince tucked his prayer mat, his box of itr and two eggs of the sabzwar hens under his arm and departed for the dargah [shrine] of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, to live in a ruined house outside the shrine. He left behind all the jewellery and coins belonging to him for the servants to feast upon, stating, “I don’t need any of them, Allah is enough for me.” His abandoned wife and daughter were left without provisions as the servants took off with all his valuables for themselves when they escaped.

Such were the stories of the nawabs and princes who went from riches to rags in the blink of an eye. They spoke to Khwaja Hasan Nizami about their social lives, cultures, traditions, foods, festivals, politics and their fates after the fall of their dynasty. Driven out from their palaces and palanquins on to the streets in search of food and shelter, the dethroned royals scrambled to survive. Some bore their struggles with bitter pride; others surrendered to misfortune.

Other tales in Tears of the Begums feature narratives of bravery and valour in fighting a colonial power. These recollections of the sacrifices made help us to better understand the calamitous events that took place when Delhi fell into British hands. But, even as we are compelled to wonder about the transient nature of the world and reflect on how heedless a person can be of the future, Safvi’s rich prose depicting Delhi — the city she has made her home — remains a joy to read.

The reviewer is a writer and editor based in Karachi.
She can be reached at sara.amj@hotmail.co.uk

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, April 30th, 2023