My grandfather was in the engineering services of the railways , Once , while still an undergrad , he received scholarship to study in the UK, during those halcyon days of the British raj (It was one of the family legends).This was his story.
It was a beautiful Sunday morning in Scotland . The moors were awash with purple heather and greenery. There was this garden in front of the hostel , where I lived . Across the road.
I would carry my books , after breakfast , and sit in the sun for good part of the morning , savouring the countryside . On this particular Sunday , an old gentleman walked in through the wicker gates . Carefully latching it behind him . Force of habit , I thought.
He silently doffed his soiled and battered cap at my cheerful greetings. Then he came and sat on the very bench I was sitting on. He smelt of the earth , heather , and a strange musty pungency . He sat silently , sunning himself , then asked me , in husky undertones , "Where you from , young man?"
I replied , tersely"India ". Not trusting him to know anything about India.
He smiled , as if he already knew . Then launched into a remarkable soliloquy.
"I was in the 33rd regiment Bengal native infantry . Then I was sent to fight in Kabul. "
I did quick mental maths. This was 1930, and the Kabul war was fought in 1842 , that meant close to 90 years ago . Blimey. I opened my mouth to interrupt , but he carried on , totally unaware of my gasps .
"Then General Henry Lawrence was killed at the Lucknow seige ."
Goodness! He was talking about 1857 sepoy mutinee. I didn't know how to react , other than listening with rapt attention . Old age onset dementia was known to be punctuated with hallucinations . He continued .
"I was made the civil commissioner . Lucknow burnt . All around the residency , there was unspeakable outrage . Disbanded rebel sepoys poured in from Bengal . The Biharis and Telengas . It was terrible . General Havelock was stuck at Unao. Wave upon wave of attacks by rebel forces , weakened us .It was 17 days since the general's death. We were low on morale. It was July 21st morning , a sniper post west of the residency , sent a signal of warning . The boys were terrified to investigate. So I got the syce to saddle my horse , and I rode out to the post . The city was ghostly silent around me .My trusted Risaldar -major followed me , at a distance . His gun cocked for any trouble .
When I reached the post , I halted at the base of the machan , I called out his name .No answer. I think he was called Sipahi Makhan Lal. After calling out his name the third time in a row , we both dismounted , and prepared to climb the machan . The Risaldar had his gun cocked ,and I stuck a boot in the bamboo ladder .I must have climbed a few steps when some bullets sang past me . The Risaldar shouted a warning and an expletive in Hindustani , at the same time . But it was too late . I felt a thump in my chest , the bloody thing tore through my sash of gold braid . To my horror , it turned crimson in a trice. As I fell off the ladder, a bullet caught me in the forehead , and all went dark .
Next when I came to , my risaldar major was panting and bleeding from his arms and neck, but had me pinioned beneath him , riding away from a pursuing bunch of rebels , hot on his heels .
But he made it to the sanctuary of the residency . A volley of shots from the guards turned the rebel horsemen back. "
The old man became silent after this out burst .
It was my turn to ask "Why are you telling me this now ? It all happened so long ago ."
He turned to me , for the first time . I took in his wrinkled , dusty face and the dusty cap , and an agony in his old eyes .
"For they no longer tend to my gravesite . My name is Major John Sherbrooke Banks ,I lie buried in a cemetery in Lucknow . I know you are from Lucknow , so find me and get my tomb cleaned ."
Blood froze in my veins as I saw the torn gold braid on his chest , darkened with soil and something else . Sun shone brilliantly on the old man , his brass buttons gleaming briefly through the dust and then poof ! Just like that , he vanished.
Grandpa did find the grave of this gentleman officer and had it cleaned up . He did invite the ire of his swadeshi friends though.
It was a beautiful Sunday morning in Scotland . The moors were awash with purple heather and greenery. There was this garden in front of the hostel , where I lived . Across the road.
I would carry my books , after breakfast , and sit in the sun for good part of the morning , savouring the countryside . On this particular Sunday , an old gentleman walked in through the wicker gates . Carefully latching it behind him . Force of habit , I thought.
He silently doffed his soiled and battered cap at my cheerful greetings. Then he came and sat on the very bench I was sitting on. He smelt of the earth , heather , and a strange musty pungency . He sat silently , sunning himself , then asked me , in husky undertones , "Where you from , young man?"
I replied , tersely"India ". Not trusting him to know anything about India.
He smiled , as if he already knew . Then launched into a remarkable soliloquy.
"I was in the 33rd regiment Bengal native infantry . Then I was sent to fight in Kabul. "
I did quick mental maths. This was 1930, and the Kabul war was fought in 1842 , that meant close to 90 years ago . Blimey. I opened my mouth to interrupt , but he carried on , totally unaware of my gasps .
"Then General Henry Lawrence was killed at the Lucknow seige ."
Goodness! He was talking about 1857 sepoy mutinee. I didn't know how to react , other than listening with rapt attention . Old age onset dementia was known to be punctuated with hallucinations . He continued .
"I was made the civil commissioner . Lucknow burnt . All around the residency , there was unspeakable outrage . Disbanded rebel sepoys poured in from Bengal . The Biharis and Telengas . It was terrible . General Havelock was stuck at Unao. Wave upon wave of attacks by rebel forces , weakened us .It was 17 days since the general's death. We were low on morale. It was July 21st morning , a sniper post west of the residency , sent a signal of warning . The boys were terrified to investigate. So I got the syce to saddle my horse , and I rode out to the post . The city was ghostly silent around me .My trusted Risaldar -major followed me , at a distance . His gun cocked for any trouble .
When I reached the post , I halted at the base of the machan , I called out his name .No answer. I think he was called Sipahi Makhan Lal. After calling out his name the third time in a row , we both dismounted , and prepared to climb the machan . The Risaldar had his gun cocked ,and I stuck a boot in the bamboo ladder .I must have climbed a few steps when some bullets sang past me . The Risaldar shouted a warning and an expletive in Hindustani , at the same time . But it was too late . I felt a thump in my chest , the bloody thing tore through my sash of gold braid . To my horror , it turned crimson in a trice. As I fell off the ladder, a bullet caught me in the forehead , and all went dark .
Next when I came to , my risaldar major was panting and bleeding from his arms and neck, but had me pinioned beneath him , riding away from a pursuing bunch of rebels , hot on his heels .
But he made it to the sanctuary of the residency . A volley of shots from the guards turned the rebel horsemen back. "
The old man became silent after this out burst .
It was my turn to ask "Why are you telling me this now ? It all happened so long ago ."
He turned to me , for the first time . I took in his wrinkled , dusty face and the dusty cap , and an agony in his old eyes .
"For they no longer tend to my gravesite . My name is Major John Sherbrooke Banks ,I lie buried in a cemetery in Lucknow . I know you are from Lucknow , so find me and get my tomb cleaned ."
Blood froze in my veins as I saw the torn gold braid on his chest , darkened with soil and something else . Sun shone brilliantly on the old man , his brass buttons gleaming briefly through the dust and then poof ! Just like that , he vanished.
Grandpa did find the grave of this gentleman officer and had it cleaned up . He did invite the ire of his swadeshi friends though.
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