Upon return to the Barrackpore cantonment Mangal learnt that his unit was likely to be moved to Meerut cantonment situated near Delhi.
The British had got some wind of the impending trouble but they were not unduly worried. They had seen and dealt with many mutinities and rebellions effectively. The most of them were quickly crushed with brutality. The frustration and the desperation of the masses meant little to the British. After all the people of Hindustan had been living in perpetual desperation of one kind or the other for thousands of years. And they always blamed their kismet for it.
Although the colonial rulers had their headquarters in Calcutta (Kolkata) yet they could not forget the importance of Delhi, the nerve centre of Hindustan. Then, there was the fact that it was the home of the last Mogul Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar, the symbol of the native hope and pride.
The city of Delhi had hosted most of the empires that ruled the land of Hindustan from Pandavas to Moguls. So, to defend Delhi British had a big army cantonment established at nearby Meerut besides Delhi cantonment.
The news was not bad for Mangal’s unit because Meerut was a part of their homeland where the common folk spoke their own Hindustani tongue unlike Bengal where commoners spoke Bengali. His unit consisted of the people from U.P. and Bihar.
The next evening, Mangal met Havildar Lalchand to give him the news of his safe arrival and to discuss the situations outside. After exchanging pleasantries Mangal asked, “Havildar dadu, I have heard that our battalion will be shifted to Meerut soon?”
Havildar nodded his head saying, “That is correct. We shall soon be in Meerut. It is a big military cantonment near Delhi. We shall be in Hindustani speaking area.”
“I know that. Dadu, when I was on leave I found a very disturbing situation out there. Everyone seemed to be worked up against the British. No one appeared happy. What was your experience?”
“Similar, Mangal. Every year I go on leave I find the people angrier than before. There is some reason for that. The people have been impoverished due to the policies of the British. But no one can blame us sepoys for that. Earlier our people used to curse Rajas and Nawabs for their miseries. Now they curse the British. They are always cursing. There is nothing new.”
Mangal revealed, “But dadu, this time it is more than cursing. The rumours are making sounds that British are religiously destroying us sepoys and we are to be forcibly converted into Christianity.’’
“I heard that too. Clearly some one misleading the simple folks out there and mischief mongering out of the hatred for the British. We all know that no one is going to make us abandon our Hindu religion or Muslim religion. How may times Colonel Hearsy has assured us of that. We have no reason to disbelieve him. The day we are ordered to become Christians we shall leave the fauz. They can’t keep us here tied with ropes. Can they?”
Mangal nodded and spoke, “I told the people the same thing. But there are other things I had no answer to like the parade line up where we upper castes, even Brahmins have to stand by the side of the lowly untouchables whom we beat up hollow outside the military if even their shadow falls on us. We feel degraded, there is no doubt about it. And what about our sepoys who are sent overseas to fight the British wars in other lands? Our pundits claim that crossing the seas destroys our dharma.’’
“Look Mangal! The British have recruited us sepoy to fight wars and not to do punditai (Priestly acts) or to treat us like brides. Everyone makes compromises and adjustments in life. We needed employment and the British gave us that. In return we also have to give some, make some sacrifices. These small violations of our religious duties is our sacrifice which enable us to fulfil our greater duty that of feeding our families and supporting the parents. If a pundit finds a rupee coin laying on the road he will at once pick it up without bothering to enquire if it had fallen off the hand of an untouchable or a firangi. I know many pundits in our area who go to untouchable women in the darkness of the night yet the next day they still parade themselves as unsullied upper castes. It is not just a nautanki? Then, if our sepoys are sent abroad they get enough compensation monetarily for their sacrifices of whatever kind. If anyone does not like to go abroad he can resign from fauz and go home. But no one does. Didn’t Krishanji (Lord Krishna) say that a man’s duty is to do what he is asked for by his legitimate superior? In a way we are just doing what Krishanji said by obeying the orders of our officers.’’
Drawn by their talk many other sepoys had also joined them. They were just listeners by far. They had become audience as their drawing closer did not evoke any protest from the Havildar or sepoy Mangal Pandey. The two had continued their talk. It was a normal practice for the sepoys to gather around a one who had just come back from leave to get the news of the countryside. One of them coughed in the manner of clearing his throat but very obviously he wanted to draw attention of the others as he had something to reveal.
Every one including Lalchand and Mangal looked at him invitingly.
The sepoy said, “What Havildarji was saying was right to some extent. But new things are coming to light that are very disturbing. What the British are doing with us is very bad. If I told you about it you will be shocked.”
“What are you talking about?” Havildar asked.
The sepoy disclosed, “I have served some time at Dumdum Military Depot before being sent here only a few days ago…”
“Did some white officer abuse you?”
“No. It is not that at all but a really sinister thing. Listen carefully what I am going to tell you. Something happened that shocked us all. There was a Brahmin sepoy posted there named Rambhaj. He firmly believed in caste system and the practice of untouchability. He was very strict and conscious about it and would not make any compromise and concession in those matters.
One morning he had just finished his daily pooja when a sweeper said to Rambhaj, ‘Punditji, please give me some water to drink from your pooja bowl. I am very thirsty.’
Rambhaj screamed, ‘How dare you untouchable ask for water from me, a Brahmin? Don’t try to come anywhere near me! You will defile my dharma.’
‘I know that you are a Brahmin. If your slobbering over cow and pig fat does not defile your dharma how can just giving water to me untouchable does? Strange kind of topsy-turvy your dharma is, punditji.’
‘Zamadar! What are you talking about? Are you drunk or ganja crazed to talk such rubbish! I am a strict vegetarian. I would never ever touch meat, chicken, fish or eggs. Even, the thought of cow flesh eating is horrendous sin for me. Ram…Ram…Ram!’
‘I am not drunk or ganja crazed up, punditji. I thought you knew about it.’
‘Knew about what?’
‘It is in the cartridges you are given to be loaded in your guns. Before loading you have to remove the cap of the cartridge which you do by biting it off with your teeth. Don’t you?’ the Zamadar asked dramatically.
‘I do. So what?’
‘That cap is greased with beef and pork fat. When you bite it off some fat must be rubbing off to your lips or teeth or gums or may be tongue. Is not that natural? In this way every time you bite off the cap of the cartridge you desecrate your dharma. A sepoy has not right to flaunt caste superiority! Has one punditji?’ The Zamadar worked.
‘You are lying!’
‘I am not lying. Haven’t you noticed the grease on the cartridge caps?’
‘I have. But why should it be animal fat?’
The Zamadar remarked sarcastically, ‘Did you think it was butter from Gokul-Vrindavan!’
Rambhaj stared at the Zamadar feeling utter disgust and revulsion. ‘Don’t try to cut on ugly joke, you lowly Zamadar! You are trying to mislead me.”
‘‘It is just simple common sense. These guns and cartridges are industrial products of Englistan (England). The industry there uses beef and pork lard for greasing and oiling jobs. I know a person who has worked in those factories.’
‘I can’t trust you. You lower castes just love to see us Brahmins in some dilemma or other. I will get the truth from Officer Morgan.’
‘As you like. May be, firangis are doing it on purpose to destroy your dharma. If that is the case than Morgan Saheb will not tell you the truth. Would he?’
The Zamadar moved on giggling. Rambhaj went to Colonel Morgan and enquired about the cartridge caps.
Colonel said that the cap had a layer of wax paper. Since it was wax paper how could it be taken for treated with fat, he asked. Obviously the colonel had little knowledge of industrial manufacturing process. Still he promised to enquire properly.
But one other officer admitted that wax paper did not mean it was really waxed. The cartridge makers could be using lard to prepare the butter paper. There was this confusion. No one had any convincing answer. Colonel Morgan was not quick enough to get the authentic explanation. May be, the British officers were not taking the matter real seriously because they did not understand how important it was to allay the fears of Hindu sepoys. Muslim sepoys were also very agitated because the pork fat was taboo for them as well. In the meantime I got posted to this place. Since then I am finding it very revolting to bite off the cartridge cap. Who knows what that greasy thing is!”
All the other sepoys there were speechlessly staring at his face. Havildar Lalchand and Mangal Pandey looked at each other with horrified expressions on their faces.
Lalchand muttered, “This is now very worrisome. Very dangerous. How can we…?”
Mangal interjected, “If it is true it will not be acceptable to us at all. On this thing we can’t make any compromise. There is a limit.”
“I hope it is not true. How could the British be so insensitive to our feelings? We should not keep quite. Tomorrow we must talk to Hearsy Sahib about it.”
“We must, dadu. We have the right to know the truth. There may be someone playing a dirty game against us. When the people learn about it we shall get condemned. No one would like to touch us.’’
At that note the meeting was terminated. All of them went to bed in deeply agitated mood.’’
The very next day, Havildar Lalchand and Mangal Pandey went to see Colonel Douglus. After seeking permission through the Orderly the two went into the cabin of the officer. They saluted to their superior duly clicking the heels.
Douglus looked at Lalchand, “Yes Havildar, do you have to report something?”
“Sir, it is about the new consignment of the ammunition that has arrived from England out of which the cartridges are being issued to us for use. We learn that the caps of the cartridges we are supposed to remove by biting them off with teeth contain cow and pig fat. We want to know if it is true.”
The officer looked at him puzzled.
“So what if it is? Do you have any objection?”
“Sir, we have. Infact it is the question of life and death for us. We Hindus worship cow like our own mother. It is the most sacred thing for us. Killing a cow is the biggest sin for us. Eating flesh or any part of her in unthinkable. Our souls will burn in the hell for eternity.” Lalchand tried to explain.
The British officer listened with an amused look on his face. He muttered, “I see.”
“Same is the case for Muslims about pig fat, sir.”
The officer asked, “Do you drink cow’s milk?’’
“I do, sir.”
“Then, let me tell you that the cow’s milk contains a percentage of fat which we take out from it as cream or butter. That fat content is a part of the cow’s body. When you drink milk you also consume cow fat. Isn’t that simple truth?”
“No, no, sir. Our people don’t see it in that light. Our culture is very different. If there is fat in the caps of the cartridges all Hindu sepoys will revolt or go mad. Our society will horribly condemn us. You must do something about it to save us.”
“Alright, alright, Lalchand. I can see your problem. Don’t worry. I will get the matter investigated to see how much truth there is in what you claim. If it is true we shall take immediate steps to correct the fault. We don’t want to hurt your religious feelings in any way. Now you may go.”
As the two prepared to leave the officer said as an after thought, “Havildar! We have orders to shift our battalion to Meerut. We shall be leaving within a week. Lieutenant Mac Gregor will brief you about it today in the afternoon. Prepare for the departure.”
