The Government of Swat
The Government of Swat, like that of all Pathan tribes, is an almost complete democracy. The country is split up into nearly as many factions as there are villages. Each sub-division of each division of each clan has its separate quarrels, and supports its own chief, who is generally at mortal feud with either his own relations or his neighbours, and who is seldom obeyed one instant longer than is convenient; so that nothing short of pressing danger to the whole community from without could ever bring together all the divisions into which Swat is separated. But that which could not be effected by ordinary means has, in a measure, been brought about by the influence of one individual, working on the religious feelings of a mass of grossly ignorant and proportionately bigoted people, such as are the inhabitants of Swat; this man was the late Akhund of Swat. The Akhund exerted such a powerful influence, as already seen in the Ambela campaign, not only over the district of Swat, but over the whole of the Yusafzai border, that an account of him somewhat in detail may not be out of place.
Abdul Ghafur, as was his original name, was born of poor and obscure parents, probably Gujars, at the village of Jabrai, in Upper Swat, and passed his early boyhood tending sheep and cattle. He was even then distinguished for his religious proclivities, and at the age of eighteen he decided to adopt the life of an ascetic, and proceeded to Barangola to learn to read and write, and master the rudiments of his religion. Thence, after a time, he set out as an “inquirer after wisdom,” and at first took up his abode in or near a mosque about three miles from Mardan; but moving on again after a stay of a few months, he became, at Tordhair, the disciple of a fakir who enjoyed in those parts a reputation for peculiar sanctity. Here the Akhund resolved to exchange the mosque for the hermitage, and became a recluse.
About the year 1816 he accordingly settled down, as a young man of barely twenty, to a life of the greatest austerity, at a lonely spot on the banks of the Indus, below the village of Beka, ten miles above Attock, where for twelve years he followed the Nakshbandia form of religious devotion—sitting silent and motionless, his head bowed on his chest, and his eyes fixed on the ground. His food was an inferior kind of millet moistened with water, and throughout his life—he died at the age of eightythree—his diet was equally simple, milk being, however, subsequently substituted for water. His fame as a saint dates from his sojourn at Beka, and even to this day, in the most distant parts of Persia, he is still remembered as “the Hermit of Beka.”
A Militant Priest
In an evil moment he unwisely allowed himself to be drawn into a quarrel between the Khan of Hund and Saiyid Ahmad of Bareilly, and found himself obliged to abandon his retreat at Beka, and wander forth unknown and of no account; but after some years he settled down in a ziarat at Ghulaman, in British Yusafzai, and recovering his old reputation for sanctity and piety, his advice and prayers were again in great request. Thence in time he removed to the village of Salim Khan, in the south-east of British Yusafzai and on the border of the Khudu Khels, and, being generally regarded as a saint, was given the title of Akhund by the learned Moslem doctors of the day.
On two occasions was the Akhund beguiled—possibly from some dread of loss of ascendancy among his co-religionists should he refuse—into taking up arms for “the Faith.” In the year 1835, Dost Muhammad Khan, Amir of Kabul, invited him to join his force near Peshawar, with as large a body of his disciples as he could persuade to accompany him, and attack the camp of the Sikhs. This the Akhund did, and he and his following had some trifling success against the soldiers of the Khalsa. But the arrival of Ranjit Singh to command the Sikh armies in person was enough to send the Amir flying precipitately through the Khyber, and to scatter the Akhund’s fanatical rabble in all directions. The Akhund himself made for Buner with a few followers, who quickly deserted him, and then, returning to his ascetic and secluded life, he settled for a time in Ranizai territory. From here he moved a few years later to the village of Saidu Mandz, in the Baizai district of Swat, where he lived surrounded by numerous disciples and visited by crowds of devotees. The Akhund gained such an ascendancy over the minds of his co-religionists that they believed all kinds of stories about him; that he was supplied by supernatural means with the necessities of life, and that every morning a sum of money, sufficient for his own needs and for the entertainment of the pilgrims who flocked to consult him, was found under his praying carpet. But most wonderful of all—he was never known to accept any present offered to him.
“His ascendancy over the Muhammadans of the Border and Eastern Afghanistan,” says Oliver, “was as great as that of Loyola in Rome or Luther in Saxony; his edicts regarding religious customs and secular observances were as unquestioned as the Papal Bulls in Spain. When the chiefs of Swat recognised the possibility of British military operations extending to their valley and the necessity for federation, it was to the Akhund they turned to select them a king. His selection was a Saiyid of Sitana, who for some years carried on an organised government under the patronage of the Border Pope. Putting aside the incredulous stories about him as priest, his life seems to have been one of devotion, humility, abstinence and chastity; the doctrines he taught were as tolerant and liberal as those of his Wahabi opponents were intolerant and puritanical. Judged by the standard applied to other religious leaders, he used his influence, according to his lights, for good, supporting peace and morality, discouraging feuds, restraining the people from raiding and offences against their neighbours, and enforcing the precepts of Muhammadan law as far as ineradicable Pathan custom would permit him.”
His Ascendancy
For many years after settling at Saidu Mandz, he held himself aloof from secular affairs, preached peace towards all men, and counselled the tribesmen to cultivate friendly relations with the British Government. In 1847 he did his best to prevent the Swatis from assisting the Baizais, whom we were engaged in punishing. When the mutineers of the 55th Native Infantry, flying from Mardan before Nicholson, crossed the boundary into Swat, he caused them to be deported beyond the Indus; and he supported our government so far as lay in his power during the anxious days of the Mutiny. He had always opposed the colonies of Hindustani fanatics, so that his conduct in 1863, when during the Ambela expedition he sided with them, seems difficult to explain. Colonel Reynell Taylor believed, and his belief was shared by those at the time best able to judge, that the Akhund had taken the line he did in fear that if he did not show sympathy with Buner on this occasion, his influence might pass to some more compliant leader. The pressure brought to bear on him was practically irresistible; the adjurations of the Buner chiefs and people had been most passionate, all the mullahs of the country, with many of the women, having been deputed to beseech him to adopt their cause.