Khoshbagh, the final resting place of Siraj-ud-Daulah, preserves the echoes of a turbulent past, where history and colonial narratives continue to shape perceptions of the last Nawab of Bengal
Shamim A. Zahedy
It was an extremely hot day in mid-April 2024, with the sun unleashing its full wrath over Murshidabad, India. Disembarking from a large country boat on the western bank of the Bhagirathi River, we, a group of five tourists, took a mechanized rickshaw, which had also been ferried on the same boat. We headed towards Khoshbagh, the resting place of Siraj-ud-Daula, the last independent Nawab of Bengal, Bihar, and Orissa.
As we reached Khoshbagh—translated as “The Garden of Happiness” in English—the only royal relic left in the old capital of Murshidabad that holds memories of the slain nawab, we were greeted by a troupe of independent guides at the main entrance. They promised to be very helpful to unfold the untold stories of its antiquity. We obliged to one of them.
South of Murshidabad, along the Bhagirathi River, lies Khoshbagh, a serene walled royal graveyard, far from the bustle of the capital, which was built by Nawab Alivardi Khan (1676-1756), Siraj-ud-Daula’s immediate predecessor and his maternal grandfather. Within this tranquil, secluded retreat rest Nawab Alivardi Khan’s mother, Alivardi Khan himself and the ill-fated Siraj-ud-Daulah in eternal peace. Beside them, other members of their royal family also find their final places in this mortal world.
The mausoleum complex of Khoshbagh is primarily divided into two courtyards and that the first courtyard begins at the entrance, while the second courtyard lies to the west of the first. Another gateway leads to the second courtyard.
“The entrance faces east, with two chambers situated on either side of the gate. The gateway is so vast that elephants could easily pass through it. In the northeastern and southeastern corners of the walls are small structures that served as guard posts. … At the centre of this courtyard lies an open area surrounded by walls, containing three graves. Near the eastern gate of the courtyard rests the mother of Alivardi Khan. … In the northern section of this walled graveyard lies an elevated platform containing 17 graves… Passing through the entrance between the two courtyards and entering the western courtyard, a prominent tomb comes into view,” describes historian Nikhil Nath Roy in his acclaimed ‘Murshidabad Kahini’ published in 1897.
Surrounded by verandas, the 18th-century mausoleum houses several tombs, including that of Siraj-ud-Daulah, marked by a small white marble tombstone inscribed with Persian script: “Nawab Siraj-ud-Daulah Khan Bahadur Haibat Jang, passed away in the year 1757 AD.”
Our good guide at Khoshbagh confirmed that it was the grave of the last Nawab, though he could not read the Persian inscription. However, he introduced us to other prominent tombs, including those of Siraj’s wife, Lutfunnisa, and Nawab Alivardi Khan, whose grave is elevated and adorned with black and white marble. None of the other graves has tombstone, so one must rely on the guide to identify the individuals buried there. The guide’s knowledge appears to have been passed down orally from person to person, often blending myths with history.
Indeed, it is challenging to uncover the true history, especially in the absence of recorded chronicles. The events of Siraj-ud-Daulah—his life, his defeat at the Battle of Plassey, which paved the way for the gradual English occupation of Bengal and the Indian subcontinent, and his subsequent tragic murder—are shrouded in myths and biased narratives. These accounts, shaped by victors, adversaries, and ruling powers, were designed to demean him.
The very tragic death of Siraj is described rather in a melodramatic fashion. When faced with the murderer, Mohammadi Beg, the defeated nawab was quoted as saying, “They are not then, (broke he with a passionate tone of voice), they are not satisfied with my being ready to retire into some corner, there to end my days upon a pension ; (here he paused awhile, and, as if recollecting something, he added) ’—No — they are not, — and / must die— to atone for Hossein Culi Qhan’s murder.”
An English translation of Siyar-ul-Mutakhkherin (or View of the Modern Times), originally written in Persian by Sayyid Ghulam Husain Tabatabai around 1781-82 AD —almost 25 years after the killing of Siraj— quotes the Nawab, at the moment he was about to be murdered, referring to his killing of Hossein Kuli Khan, a courtier, in a rather playwright-like style.
The English translation, published under the pseudonym Nota Manus, was printed in Kolkata by James White. In the translator’s note, Nota Manus described himself as “your ever obliged and respectful servant” and dedicated the work to Warren Hastings, the Governor-General of British India from 1774 to 1785, two years after Hastings had left Bengal.
It is understood that the Nota Manus translation was undertaken with the intent of personal appeasement. Banglapedia, Bangladesh’s national encyclopedia, notes that Sayyid Ghulam Husain Tabatabai consistently maintained a pro-English stance, likely because he wrote his book during a period when English rule was firmly established.
The English, who would soon quickly colonise Bengal and gradually the whole of India, did not waste much time in getting Siyar-ul-Mutakhkherin translated into English.
A few lines later, Sayyid Ghulam Husain Tabatabai turned supernatural. The Nota Manus translation on page 779 describes: “and the mangled carcase being thrown across the back of an elephant, was carried throughout the most frequented parts of the city, by way of notifying the accession of the new sovereign’s, but what is singular, and yet is universally attested, the elephant driver having for some particular business of his own, stopped for a moment, it chanced to be precisely at Hossein Culi Qhan’s door, where some drops of blood were seen to drop from the mangled body, and they fell on the very spot where that nobleman had been murdered but two years before.”
In utter disbelief, historian Nikhil Nath Roy, in his ‘Murshidabad Kahini’, says that the author of Siyar-ul-Mutakhkherin has, in a way, attributed this incident to divine will and sought to highlight the greatness of Hossein Kuli Khan while portraying Siraj as cruel. However, such accounts are based on mere popular legends and nothing more, Roy states, adding that even if the occurrence of such an event were remotely possible, it is almost inconceivable to believe it actually happened.
Akshay Kumar Maitreya, in his 1898 book on Siraj-ud-Daulah, quotes historian Kaliprasanna Bandyopadhyay (1842-1900) as saying: “Following the account of Mutakhkherin, we documented the murder of Siraj. At the time of writing the book, the author of Mutakhkherin was a government scribe and a pensioner of the East India Company. For various reasons, Siraj-ud-Daulah did not receive justice in his narrative, nor was Mir Jafar censured for his actions. Following Mutakhkherin’s account everywhere does not seem to be the most reliable method for determining the truth.”
The Riyaz-us-Salatin, a contemporary Siyar-ul-Mutakhkherin-style history book on Muslim rule in Bengal, was written in Persian by Ghulam Husain Salim Zaidpuri also under the patronage of a British civil servant, George Udney. Zaidpuri, who served as Dak Munshi (Postmaster) under Udney, the English Commercial Resident of Malda, began the work in 1786 AD and completed it in 1788.
Another book, Muzaffarnamah, on the contemporary Nawabi rule, was written by Karam Ali, a relative of Alivardi Khan, under the patronage of Muhammad Reza Khan Muzaffar Jang, the deputy diwan of Bengal under the East India Company until 1772. Penned in 1772, the work was named after Muhammad Reza Khan Muzaffar Jang.
According to Banglapedia, Karam Ali, a supporter of Siraj-ud-Daula’s cousin and rival Shawkat Jang, portrayed Siraj-ud-Daula unfairly in the book.
These early books served as primary sources for later works on the chronicles and palace politics of Nawabi rule in Bengal. However, many of these accounts were influenced by the affiliations and biases of their authors or narrators.
Sir Jadunath Sarkar in his 1943 publication of “History of Bengal volume II” quotes a foreigner while shedding lights on Siraj’s character and behaviour. The historian writes, “About the character of Siraj-ud-daulah the evidence of the English merchants of Calcutta or that of the famous Patna historian Seyyid Ghulam Husain (the tutor of his rival Shaukat Jang) might be suspected as prejudiced. I shall therefore give here the opinion of Monsieur Jean Law, the chief of the French factory at Qasimbazir, a gentleman who was prepared to risk his own life in order to defend Siraj against the English troops.”
Sir Sarkar quotes Law from his memoirs: “The character of Siraj-ud-daulah was reputed to be one of the worst ever known. In fact he had distinguished himself not only by all sorts of debaucheries, but by a revolting cruelty. The Hindu women are accustomed to bathe on the bank of the Ganges. Siraj-ud-daulah, who was informed by his spies which of them were beautiful, sent his satellites in little boats to carry them off. He was often seen, in the season when the river overflows, causing the ferry boats to be upset or sunk, in order to have the cruel pleasure of seeing the confusion of a hundred people at a time, men, women and children, of whom many, not being able to swim, were sure to perish … Every one trembled at the name of Siraj-ud-daulah.”
That is a rather long list of allegations! Now, questions arise: Was Jean Law a witness to any of the incidents he mentioned, or were they merely hearsay from his acquaintances? Were the grave allegations all true, or were they mixed with lies? Why would a prince—more precisely a crown prince of three kingdoms—take women to his palace by force or trickery in broad daylight or overtly, with the knowledge of his neighbours, and that too only Hindu women, as per Jean Law? Why would the young prince upset boats with people on board, like wanton boys throwing stones at frogs in jest?
What was the backgrounds of Jean Law? Like many European adventurers and colonists of his era, Jean Law sought fortune by any means and seized every opportunity to align himself with power. According to Banglapedia, he was English by birth but French by domicile and an eyewitness to the events leading to the Battle of Palashi. He actively participated in some of these events, either directly or as an adviser. As a typical 18th-century colonist, he was keen at turning circumstances to his advantage, always ready to support the winning side and benefit from its success.
Banglapedia also says after Siraj-ud-Daulah defeated Shawkat Jang in the war of succession, Jean Law abandoned the rebel and sought the Nawab’s mercy. He took over the English factory at Qasimbazar after William Watts’s capitulation and remained loyal to Siraj while under his protection. However, as the grand conspiracy against the Nawab grew, he deserted him and retreated to Patna for safety. Later, Law joined Emperor Shah Alam as a military adviser in his failed Bengal invasions. Captured by the English at one point, he was eventually released and left India in 1762.
In portraying Siraj-ud-Daulah as both a prince and a king, the events and their societal contexts were unfortunately not assessed objectively. Referring to the killing of Hossein Kuli Khan by the crown prince of Bengal, Bihar, and Orissa, historian Nikhil Nath Roy raises a valid question:
“How can one consider a person virtuous who, by violating the sanctity of his master’s wife, plunged an entire household into the depths of sin and immorality? And if someone who ordered the execution of the violator of his mother’s dignity is deemed comparable to a devil, then who can believe that justice and righteousness exist in God’s realm? Those who wish may approve of such inconsistent judgments of the Almighty, but as long as justice, morality, and purity prevail in this world, such notions can never be accepted.”
Does justice demand that Siraj-ud-Daulah should have first established Hossein Kuli Khan’s guilt in a modern day-style court of law before passing the execution order?” Notably, civil and criminal courts under British supervision were instituted in India by Warren Hastings in 1772.
As we were about to conclude our visit to Khoshbagh, somberly remembering the last Nawab, who lost his decisive battle due to treachery by British colonists and their local collaborators and was subsequently murdered, we asked our guide whether there were any restrictions on offering a prayer at the grave of a man who had shed his blood for his country. The guide replied, “No.”
The youngest boy in our group led the prayer, reciting Surah Al-Fatiha, the opening verse of the Quran, while others raised their hands in supplication. In the stillness of the tomb, the recitation seemed to bring a sense of coolness to the scorching heat of Murshidabad, which coincided with the fasting month of Ramadan.
With the prayer over, we bade farewell to Nawab “Munsoor Al Moolk Seraje Ad Dowlah Shah Cooly Khan Mirza Mahmood Hybet Jung Behadur”, as Charles Stewart mentioned the last Nawab in The History of Bengal (1813).
For many members of the touring group, this visit was their second in 17 years, with the first tour taking place in 2007. During both visits, things had remained almost unchanged. However, one striking similarity was that on both occasions, no other tourists were seen in the mausoleum.
Meanwhile, the group eagerly looks forward to their third visit to the same place to pay respect to the man whom English officer in India and author George Bruce Malleson in his 1883 publication of ‘The Decisive Battles of India’ described aptly: ‘Whatever may have been his faults, Siraj-ud-Daulah had neither betrayed his master nor sold his country. Nay more, no unbiased Englishman, sitting in judgment on the events which passed in the interval between the 9th of February and the 23rd of June, can deny that the name of Siraj-ud-Daulah stands higher in the scale of honour than does the name of Clive. He was the only one of the principal actors in that tragic drama who did not attempt to deceive!’
