Tag: Ranjit Singh

• Place: Wallace Collection London
• End Date: 20 October 2024
• Tickets: https://www.wallacecollection.org/whats-on/exhibitions-displays/ranjit-singh-sikh-warrior-king/

Through the busy foyer and around the central staircase my friend and I crossed the old dining room of the Wallace Collection and emerged into the echoes of the atrium where modern visitors dine. The noise of conversation and clashing plates rose and filled the glassy vault of the room as we descended to the basement level, paid the modest entrance price, and forgoing the audio tour entered the exhibition through the colourful door.

Low intimate lighting, a dark but opulent colour palate and soft music create a personal atmosphere, as if you are going for a private audience. The initial room orients guests to the empire that Ranjit Singh ruled. We progressed from there into a long rectangular space, divided in two by cases of gleaming armour and weapons highlighting the role of the Sikhs as a warrior elite. The crowd was quite thick and we were only able to make headway after I had enthused for a few minutes about the image of Ranjit Singh meeting Yashwantrao Holkar in 1806, which I had used in one of my books.

At the turn of the room, we trailed past an imposing panoply of Punjabi and Hindustani armour, and it is always faintly satisfying to see the ornate helmets constructed so a warrior could wear a tight turban beneath them and the beautifully patterned maille. On the statement wall a bearded warrior rides to war, laden down with every conceivable weapon and military trapping, sometimes described as one of the Maharaja’s bodyguards or the man himself as a youth, he seemed to be giving everyone a parting glance as they passed by. As we began to move down the other side of the room what for many is the standout piece demanded our attention.

An iconic towering fortress of blue turban and pale steel introduces passersby to the order of Akalis, or immortals, a dedicated corps of devoted warriors who formed the beating heart of the Sikh army and were considered the epitome of religious devotion and martial prowess, connecting the spiritual and warrior traditions of the first Gurus to the modern Europeanised army that Ranjit Singh formed to defend his empire. It is impossible to pass these artifacts without being aware of their power, ‘they terrify me,’ my friend observed, daring to look into the endless gaze of the famous photograph of one of the Nizam of Hyderabad’s Akali bodyguards.

An open copy of Colonel James Skinner’s exceptional Tazkirat al-Umara greeted us as we entered the next room, meant to convey something of the drama and grandeur of the Lahore Court. This book is a brilliant example of the talent of Delhi artists of the Company School and expert Persian calligraphy celebrating the then-reigning princes and rulers of Hindustan, Rajasthan, and Punjab. The open page shows Ranjitji possibly from life, seated in 1830, and several other works of art show the Maharajah on the same distinctive throne.

We did not need to use our imaginations to give its grandeur realistic proportions, however, because the real thing was sitting square in the middle of the room. In honesty, no one except me sees, Skinner’s book first when they enter this room, the gilded chair is impossible to ignore and draws visitors to it today like moths to a flame, just as it did when the most powerful man in northern India occupied it. On the wall behind the royal seat hung a wondrous sash, just as breathtaking in its detail as the throne.

Beyond the throne stand the Firangis. The next room is dominated by two paintings, one of Jean Francois Allard, a French officer who had fought for Napoleon and became a general under Ranjit Singh, and the other of the Maharajah himself backed by marching troops semi-obscured by dust, but clearly bearing a French tricolour overhead. These colourful characters represent the military Diaspora of the Napoleonic wars, many of whom form an integral part of the story of the Sikh Empire.

The next two rooms represent the decline of Ranjit Singh’s Kingdom. After he died in 1839, it was a mere six years before internal destabilisation, exterior pressure, and political power struggles led to the first of two Anglo-Sikh Wars. Without the Lion of Punjab to rule, it took only a decade for the last independent power in India to fall, epitomised by the artifacts pertaining to the last Maharajah, Duleep Singh, in the final room. As opposed to the strength that radiates from practically every piece connected to Ranjit Singh, there is a regal but fragile sadness to the bust of Duleep. Made all the more so poignant because of its proximity to Lord Dalhousie’s replica throne which stands beside the exit door, almost brutalist in its un-gilded apery of Ranjit Singh’s golden age.

Ranjit Singh, Sikh, Warrior, King is being held at the Wallace Collection in London until the 20^th of October and it is not to be missed. Important as a spectacle for history and art lovers generally, it is also a deeply important exhibition for the Punjabi and Sikh diaspora. In the capable hands of Davinder Toor, whom I was privileged to meet at the exhibition; the collection (drawn from numerous places) has an agency all its own and seems to offer an inside look at the life of Ranjit Singh that could not be done in the same way if presented outside the community.

Though in no way exclusionary to non-sikhs, I have talked with several Punjabi visitors who identify the importance of being able to hear a story told for them, not about them, and to able to get up close with these rare objects and claim them as part of their heritage. For those without this connection, there is still much to learn. The Sikh and Punjab community is an important and valued part of the UK, and it was heartening to see the excitement in the faces of young and old, who came not with school groups or on tours, but with their grandparents, aunts and uncles, nieces, sons and daughters. No one visiting this exhibition can leave without the realisation that Ranjit Singh’s court valued the input of many cultures and ideas, and there is a lesson here of what acceptance, cooperation, and understanding can achieve in a single lifetime.

For those who cannot visit, or for those who want to remember their visit and indeed add depth to it, the beautifully produced catalogue guides you through the collection on display with expertly written chapters by Davinder Toor and a chapter by historian, William Dalrymple. The book continues with the themes of unity and enlightened rule, though never with simple adoration of a great hero; and there is, I think, and rightfully so, more of the man in the book than in the exhibition. The authors have dedicated large proportions of their lives to the preservation and transmission of the written and physical heritage through visual and textual storytelling.

This slim volume is a testament to their expertise. Besides the value of this book as a memento, and for its images, the text is laudable for its detail and precision, indeed it is an excellent and accessible starting point to Sikh history and the life of Ranjit Singh. While not to the scale of the 2018 Empire of the Sikhs exhibition, this more intimate look at the court of Ranjit Singh is something that doesn’t come around every day, and is an opportunity to learn more, not just about 19^th century Punjab, but the modern UK, and so I highly encourage anyone reading this to heed the words of humble vakeels such as myself and to go thence to the Wallace Collection to wait upon the Lion of the Punjab