CONVICT
NUMBER 3807
PART III
Unhealed Wounds
By Francis Xavier Neelam
Surgeon Major
Keefer, the Senior Medical Officer in the Ross hospital gazed on his patient.
The man was stripped up to the waist. It was obvious that he was once a
powerful man, perhaps a wrestler. Now his body was bent with rheumatism. His
eyes appeared dim. But there was a genial smile on his face as he lay on the
examining table.
Major
Keefer ran his hand gently over the deep
sword cut on the right shoulder.
“How did you get
this Maulvi saab?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s a
long story doctor”, the man said, in impeccable English, lifting his elbow to
show a gunshot wound also.
“I was a young
man then, in my twenties…in my home state of Hyderabad
“Those were turbulent
times doctor, very turbulent times; I was the Maulvi of the famous Mecca
Masjid, built with bricks made from the sacred soil brought all the way from
Mecca, about three hundred years ago. We were the subjects of the Nizam, who
ruled most of the Deccan . A long line of
Nizams ruled the state; some were benevolent; some were despotic. At about the time of the Great Uprising there
was a young inexperienced Nizam on the throne. The real power was in the hands
of his Prime Minister, Salar Jung”, the man paused.
“Oh, Salar
Jung!”, Major Keefer interjected. “I heard about him. In fact I was in a
meeting in Simla, at the Governor General’s residence where he too was present. He wields a lot of power”.
“Yes, he does”,
the man said. It’s because of him I’m here, even after completing the full term
of my sentence, without any hope of ever setting foot on my native place, or
seeing my people ”.
There was a
tinge of pain in the voice of the Maulvi.
“Perhaps you know what happened at the Residency on 17 July 1857…”.
“I heard about
it, but not in detail. You were trying
to storm the Residency and kill all the British, weren’t you?” Keefer said.
“That’s the
version of the British”, Maulvi answered.
“What happened there was a massacre of innocent people who wanted one of
their men released from illegal confinement by the Resident. “Of course I led the people, that was my
duty. I preached a sermon and led the people to the Residency holding a banner. Turrebaz Khan, the Rohilla was also with
me. He said we must be prepared to die,
if needed. Together we prayed and set out towards the Residency.”
“As a first
measure we occupied a two-storeyed house near the residency belonging to two
money-lenders, Abban Saheb and Jaya Gopal.
Some men with antique matchlocks and flintlocks went up to the terrace
and fired a few shots towards the Residency, just to send a message.
“We were not
aware then that there were loaded cannons aimed at the gates. We thought the
British may release Cheeda Khan when they see the residency surrounded. In order to force them we shouted and banged
on the gates. It was then the Arab
mounted police of the Nizam charged at us. They were sent by Salar Jung, of
course. They slashed at us with their swords.
People scattered, but I stood my ground, holding the banner. I felt a searing
pain in my shoulder. Blood streamed down my body. But I stayed on and called on
the people to come back. The people
returned with renewed fury at this attack by our own police. They tried to pull
the gates off their hinges.
“It was then the
three guns of the horse artillery were quickly moved into position. Soldiers ran behind them holding lighted port
fires. Captain Holmes aimed their
muzzles at the place where the crowd was the thickest and gave the order to fire. Next moment the guns roared; hot lead and
shrapnel tore through the crowd. There was no warning. I felt a ball hit my
elbow, tearing the flag from my hands.
By the time the smoke cleared there were many dead and dying around
me. The soldiers now started firing from
muskets. Someone dragged me towards the
house of the money lenders. The British
kept a hot fire towards the building for some time. We managed to get out of
the building under cover of darkness. I got my wounds dressed by a native doctor.
You can see from the scars it was not done properly. Turrebaz and I parted ways. I was hidden in some safe houses in the city
till my wounds healed and then headed for Mangalampally village where I had
some friends.”
“The next
morning we learnt that more than thirty people had died and many more injured
when the guns opened fire on them. It was the worst carnage in the history of
the city. Do you think, Major saab, that
such firing was justified? That too using grape shot. A few warning shots would
have driven them away.”
“My dear Maulvi
saab, I can’t comment on things that happened so long ago. But your case file is with me. Colonel Cadell is preparing a strong case for
your release and wants to attach my report on the condition of your health. I’ll read Major Cuthbert Davidson’s report also
tonight. Please come again tomorrow so that I can examine your other complaints
and finalise the report. Khuda Hafiz”.
“Ah, I forgot,
please send some good curds for my wife. She wants to make some Indian dishes”.
“Sure
doctor. You know I supply the best dahi in Port Blair, for the officers and
the prisoners alike. I’ll send it right away. Khuda Hafiz”, Maulvi Allauddin
said, as he limped out of the hospital.
(Next: Davidson’s report)
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