1772 – A Home Shattered, A Kingdom Ruined

There would be a time to grieve, but it wasn’t now.

For now, she was a mother, trying to save herself and her infant daughter. And she would do everything in her power to make it alive out of there.

Every time there came the sound of horses galloping, she panicked and clutched her infant closer. The bullock-cart that she was travelling in did hide her, but there was no saying what the British would do to find her. Other carts were inconspicuously following her, carrying a few of her remaining trusted companions who had stood by her side and were ensuring her safety. The thought did nothing to calm her.

She didn’t know what she was feeling. How could one describe the feeling of watching your entire world come crumbling apart? How would one feel after watching their life come undone with just three words?

He’s no more.

She knew these words would live with her for the entire lifetime. Words that completely challenged everything she knew about herself. Her wisdom, her valor, her self-reliance – where were all these now as she hid inside a bullock-cart, fearing for the safety of her child?

She took a deep breath.

There would be a time to fall apart, but it wasn’t now.

She listened to the sounds around her. It was uncanny, the silence that seemed to reign around. The streets that would usually be bustling with activity now seemed to be deserted. She could feel an aura of fear.

The people were scared. Their king had just died, and the British had taken over their kingdom. There was no saying what would happen now.

There was a sound of horses galloping. The bullock-cart eventually slowed down, not before the driver muttered – “Stay hidden and quiet.”

Velu’s heart thudded inside her chest and a visceral fear wrapped her in its tenacious grip, fear for her baby whom she clutched to her heart firmly. Whatever happens, I will not go down without a fight. The baby made a cooing sound in her sleep, as if assuring Velu that they would be alright.

She heard a haughty voice that undoubtedly belonged to a British fellow.

“Have you seen anyone from the palace?”

She heard the calm and confident tone of the cart driver. “Yes, I saw a lady run away from there, clutching a baby in her arms. She was screaming and running towards the temple. But then everyone was running here and there, so I could not do anything. I had come here from the neighboring town for trade. I just want to get back to my home.”

For a few terrifying seconds, Velu couldn’t breathe, wondering what was happening outside. Finally, the cart started moving.

Once they reached the outskirts of the town, she shifted the cover off the cart just a bit, to catch sight of her beloved town.

I will return one day. I will avenge my home, and regain my kingdom.

As the town faded away from her sight, she finally allowed herself to grieve, to fall apart and to lament over everything that had happened. Queen Velu Nachiyar clutched her infant and sobbed, grieving over the death of her husband, King Thevar and the loss of her home and her life in her own kingdom.

Eight years later:

 A Cry For Help, A Ray Of Hope For Redemption

‘…but my husband didn’t know that the Nawab of Arcot was just a pawn of the British, and that, fighting him meant fighting the British themselves. The troops came in when we were unprepared and attacked us. My husband died a warrior’s death. He got his moment of glory.

But I, the queen, had to run away like a scared weakling, for I was worried about my daughter who was just an infant then. I ran away in the dark of the night, leaving behind my home and my kingdom, with no chance of mourning for my dead husband.

I have waited for eight long years. All this while I have been preparing an army of my own, an army that I hope will overthrow the British one day and will help me regain my lost kingdom. All I humbly ask is for your aid in this purpose, since the British is a common enemy for both of us.

Whatever way you can help, I and my army will welcome your aid.

Yours in faith,

Velu Nachiyar’

Nawab Hyder Ali read the contents of the letter for the third time since he had received it. He gazed out of his window, looking at the streets below. For now, his kingdom was safe. But for how long?

He hated the Nawab of Arcot with a vengeance. He had no love lost for people who were siding with the British. Of course, the Nawab of Arcot had already named Sivaganga, the kingdom of the late king Thevar as Hussain Nagar. It was as if he wanted to wipe out every trace of any kingdom that had previously existed there.

Hyder Ali had heard a lot about the intellect and combating abilities of Queen Velu. Although he had heard that she was an expert in many languages, her excellent command over the Urdu language which reflected in her heartfelt letter, won his admiration and respect. More than that, it was her will-power to win back her lost kingdom that appealed to him.

One true warrior could always recognize another one.

Hyder Ali sighed. It would be only a matter of time until the British focused on his kingdom. He would have to take matters in his hand to stay one step ahead of them always.

He sat down to compose a letter, feeling exhilarated at the familiar calling of a battle and fighting alongside warriors. 

‘Respected Queen Velu,

Greetings.

I would be happy to fight alongside a brave warrior like you. You can expect my army, and by understanding, myself, to fight beside you whenever you plan to attack the British at Sivaganga.

I will await your intimation.

Regards

Hyder Ali’

A Call For Battle, Vengeance In Sight:

Queen Velu read the letter and sighed in satisfaction. Things were looking in her favor.

It had been eight years since that fateful night when she ran away from her kingdom and settled in the village of Virupakshi in Dindigul. Living in secrecy among trusted people, she had brought up her daughter Vellachi in the village, educating her in every possible way to raise her as a warrior.

There had been some days of hardships when she had been at her weakest and had doubted her decision to escape. Would it have been easier if I had surrendered? Her rational self would then remind her that the British would probably have killed her and her daughter, or kept her in the palace as a trophy.

The Nawab’s letter came to her as a beacon of hope.

Through her network of spies, Velu had come to know that Hyder Ali despised the British as well as the Nawab of Arcot. Writing him a letter which would have probably given away her whereabouts had been a risky decision, but one she had to take at any cost. While she had a trained army of warriors at her disposal, she knew not to underestimate the British or overestimate her own army. The British had strange, unfamiliar and powerful armory against which her people stood very less chance. It would require the combined efforts of Hyder Ali and her own army to regain the town of Sivaganga.

She breathed slightly easier now that she knew that she had support.

The once-familiar call for battle now filled her with anxiety, but it was the right kind of anxiety that would propel her to do everything in her power to win back her kingdom and to oust the British from her late husband’s seat.

Kuyili entered her room just as the queen was about to call for her.

The queen looked at her commander-in-chief in awe, wonder and respect.

Kuyili’s father worked as a spy for the queen. There had been many instances when the queen’s life had been in peril, and Kuyili had jumped to her rescue more than once to save her. She was not just the queen’s commander-in-chief; she was a sister to the queen from another mother.

“I was about to call you. Nawab Hyder Ali has assured us of his support. It is time for us to act.” The queen said.

“Our spies report that the armory of the British is well-hidden inside the Sivaganga fort. If we manage to destroy their ammunition, they will be left vulnerable.” Kuyili said.

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“It is Vijayadashami the day after tomorrow. Women from many parts of the town will be visiting the Rajarajeshwari Amman temple beside the fort. I and a few selected warriors will join the crowd under disguise. Once we get inside the fort, we will launch an attack on the guards, catching them unawares and will destroy the armory.”

The queen looked at Kuyili. “You seem to have planned it all out. This is a dangerous mission.”

Kuyili nodded. “I will take care. If you permit, I will discuss this with my closest confidantes and gear our army for attack.”

The queen nodded. “You take as many warriors as you want. Once you infiltrate the fort, I and Hyder Ali will lead the army and launch an attack from outside.”

Kuyili was about to leave when the queen stopped her. There was a vulnerable look on her face. “I do not want to lose my best commander-in-chief. You have to take care of yourself.”

Kuyili smiled reassuringly. “Do not worry. With the blessings of Amman, Vijayadashami will be the day of our own vijay over the British.”

Kuyili left the room, the queen looking at her retreating back until she was out of sight.

It was time to win back her kingdom.

Vijayadashami: The Day Of Reckoning; The Evening Of The Battle

Kuyili and her female warriors stood in the line of the devotees waiting to get inside the temple. Few British officers were standing guard, keeping an eye on everyone.

Kuyili’s team had their hands full of the holy Thali – a plate containing coconut, betel leaves and nuts, turmeric and kumkum, flowers, bangles, a small bottle of gingelly oil and wicks for lighting the holy lamp. The rest of their bodies contained small yet lethal weapons concealed in the folds of their sarees.

Kuyili had to give it to the supreme illusion of the British that no one could dare to attack them as she took stock of their utter nonchalance towards security checks. It would only make it easier for them.

Once inside the temple, Kuyili and her team separated from the line of the devotees and stealthily proceeded towards the direction of the fort. There was an entrance to the fort from one side of the temple.

Once the team jumped over the wall of the temple to the other side of the fort, Kuyili shouted, “Attack! Attack inside the temple! Run! Help!”

Her plan worked. She had wanted to separate the civilians and save them from the ensuing battle. The devotees assembled inside the temple started running out, the British guards trying in vain to bring in some order to the chaos.

It didn’t take long for the British to realize that the fort had been infiltrated. They alerted their guards inside the fort.

Soon, a battle broke out. Kuyili found herself facing a large number of guards. All pretense was given up as Kuyili and her team charged against them.

Once they had fought and overcome the guards in the fort, Kuyili ran further inside, the directions from her spies clear about the armory room, her warriors running alongside her.

They managed to reach the armory room where they found two guards outside the door. It didn’t take a long time for the ladies to overcome them. They opened the doors and stepped inside.

Kuyili’s jaw dropped.

The entire room was filled with cartons, all of which had the ‘danger’ sign inscribed over them.

The British had enough ammunition to burn down their entire town.

Kuyili took a deep breath. It was time. The most difficult part of course was to convince her team.

She patted the ever-present potli tied to her waist to ensure that the required items were still in.

“I want you all to listen carefully to what I say.” She said. “Run away from here. Ensure that…”

‘But you…”

Kuyili silenced the warrior with a glare. “Just do what I say. Run away as quickly as you can. I have a plan. Don’t worry about me. The queen will need every able hand to fight with her.”

It was a moment of realization for everyone. Kuyili’s heart filled with pride as each and every lady of her army bowed to her.

“Take all whom you can to safety. Assist the queen in every way. May Amman’s grace be on all of you. Now hurry!”

With a final look at her, all of them ran outside.

Kuyili waited, allowing them some time to proceed to safety. In her mind she estimated where they would have reached now, and how much more time they would require.

Once a reasonable amount of time had passed by, Kuyili unwrapped the potli from her waist and took out the bottle of oil. She poured it all over her, ensuring that no part remained dry. Then she took out a fire piston from her potli.

Perhaps there would have been another way. May be she could simply throw the fire piston and run. But she knew that she would never make it alive out of the inferno that was hidden in this room. To make it easier for her, she had poured the oil over herself.

She chuckled. I am making it easier for myself to die a slightly-less painful death.  

Every step she took near the cartons filled her heart with dread. But it felt as if she had prepared herself her whole life for this moment. A fleeting glimpse of her parents came to her mind, causing her to break into a sob.

Please forgive me for the pain I am going to inflict upon you, Appa and Amma. I hope you will understand that I am doing this for our kingdom and for our queen.

A nervous chuckle escaped her as she thought about her mother who would always fuss over her for the slightest little injury.

Why was she feeling so scared, when she knew and had prepared herself that it could come to this in the end? When her spies had told her about the British armory, she had her suspicions that there could be dangerous explosives there. She knew that the only way to destroy the armory was to flame it up. She knew that only she could do it.

She had prepared herself to the possibility of dying while blowing up the armory. Then why did she feel so scared all of a sudden?

I have dallied enough. Kuyili gave herself a mental shake.

Closing her eyes, she set herself on fire using the fire piston. Even as the flames started spreading, she fell on the cartons, her thoughts set on the queen.

A Phoenix Fell, And Another Arose:

The blast that occurred inside the fort stunned the entire kingdom.

For a few seconds, the queen’s army and the British army stood transfixed, gazing at the direction of the fort from where huge flames were leaping out.

The queen’s heart thudded painfully when she saw Kuyili’s army come running out of the temple without her. Their tear-stained faces told her everything. She knew with a certainty what had transpired inside.

Kuyili! No! This isn’t how it was supposed to be!

There would be a time to grieve, but it wasn’t now.

She tasted the tang of blood in her throat as she yelled ‘Charge!’ with all her might, the pain of losing Kuyili manifesting in her scream. With eyes that promised utter death, the queen, alongside Hyder Ali, ran out with her army to fight the British who were still very much in shock.

That day, the queen fought, not just for her kingdom, but for Kuyili.

That day, the queen’s army fought, not just for the queen, but for their beloved commander Kuyili.

That victory was not just the valor of a brave queen and her equally brave army, but also the supreme sacrifice of a woman who took down the entire armory of the British, leaving them at their vulnerable worst.

That night, a phoenix fell, only for another to rise and take charge.

***

Glossary:

vijay - win/victory

potli - a small portable sack made of cloth

Note:

This is my attempt at a fictional recreation of an event that happened in Sivaganga town of Tamil Nadu in the late 1700s, an event that is considered as the first uprising against the British. Historians speculate that Kuyili is the first known suicide-bomber in recorded history. A memorial in Sivaganga is the only remaining trace of her story. Queen Velu Nachiyar won her kingdom back eventually and ruled for a decade and is said to have passed away in 1796. Queen Velu is often referred to as ‘Veeramangai’ (brave woman) in her hometown in Tamil Nadu. However, Kuyili’s name gradually faded away in the remote pages of history. While these two women bear the prestige of having brought the British down to their knees by destroying each and every bit of their armory, their names are confined to the people in their hometown.