Echoes of the Pyre: A Tale of Sorrow

An Australian officer who served for many years in Maharaja Ranjit Singh's court recorded these vivid memories of his experiences. He described an unforgettable event he witnessed with his own eyes:

"The day Maharaja Ranjit Singh passed away, I went early to where preparations for his funeral pyre were underway. The location was a small garden within the Lahore Fort. A massive crowd had gathered there. I managed to find a suitable place to sit.

Amid the crowd, one of the Maharaja's four queens appeared, walking barefoot from the palace. For the first time, she had stepped out in public without a veil. Slowly, she made her way toward the Maharaja's lifeless body. Following her was a procession of about a hundred men, and nearby, a servant carried a small box containing her remaining jewelry. Most of her ornaments had already been broken or discarded upon the Maharaja’s death. As she walked, she distributed these remaining jewels among the people accompanying her.

Leading her procession was a man holding a mirror, walking backward so that she could constantly see her reflection. This ensured that any fear or hesitation she felt would not show on her face. This was the same queen whom the Maharaja had married during my first year of service. It had been ten years since their wedding, yet I had never seen her before that moment.

Soon, the Maharaja's funeral procession arrived, accompanied by throngs of onlookers. All, except for the four queens who rode in palanquins, walked on foot. Following the queens were seven maids, barefoot and dressed in simple silk garments, without any jewelry. Watching them filled me with sorrow and dread, as it was clear that their lives would soon come to a tragic end.

The Maharaja's body was tied to a wooden board, covered with fine brocade and Kashmiri shawls. Many men carried it from the fort to the funeral pyre. Once there, the body was placed on the ground, and the expensive ornaments adorning it were distributed among the poor. Brahmins began chanting sacred hymns, Sikh priests recited from the Guru Granth Sahib, and Muslims in the crowd exclaimed, 'Ya Allah!' The sound of the death conch echoed through the air. The entire scene was heart-wrenching and left everyone present shaken.

The funeral pyre, six feet high and just as wide, was made of dry wood, including sandalwood. After about an hour of hymns and prayers, ministers and nobles climbed a ladder to the top of the pyre. Cotton seeds were spread across it, and the Maharaja's body was placed with great reverence at the center. One by one, the queens ascended the pyre according to their rank, followed by the maids. Ministers and nobles helped them climb with the utmost respect. The queens sat near the Maharaja's head, while the maids positioned themselves at his feet, awaiting their untimely deaths.

A reed mat was placed over them, soaked in oil. Once everyone descended from the pyre, flames were lit at its four corners. Within moments, the fire roared, and before our very eyes, the great Maharaja, his devoted queens, and the unfortunate maids were reduced to ashes.

The heart-wrenching scene left the entire crowd stunned and speechless. According to Hindu customs, widows were often burned alive on their husband's funeral pyre in a ritual known as sati. While laws have been established to abolish this practice in many parts of India, it still lingers among certain tribes. Without such laws, the world would continue to echo with the cries of countless women consumed by this cruel tradition."

This account paints a vivid, haunting picture of a tradition that claimed countless lives, leaving an indelible mark on those who witnessed it.