Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official

by Sir W. H. Sleeman

At the expiration of two months, a peon came to learn what they were doing. Karīm wrote a letter by him to the Nawāb, saying that 'the dog he wished was never to be seen without ten or twelve people about him; and that he saw no chance whatever of finding him, except in the midst of them; but that if he wished, he would purchase this dog in the midst of the crowd'. The Nawāb wrote a reply, which was sent by a trooper, with orders that it should be opened in presence of no one but Aniā. The contents were: 'I command you not to purchase the dog in presence of many persons, as its price will be greatly raised. You may purchase him before one person, or even two, but not before more; I am in no hurry, the longer the time you take the better; but do not return without purchasing the dog.'[13] That is, without killing Mr. Fraser.

They went on every day to watch Mr. Fraser's movements. Leaving the horse with the groom, sometimes in one old ruin of the city, and sometimes in another, ready saddled for flight, with orders that he should not be exposed to the view of passers-by, Karīm and Aniā used to pace the streets, and on several occasions fell in with him, but always found him attended by too many followers of one kind or another for their purpose. At last, on Sunday, the 13th of March, 1835, Karīm heard that Mr. Fraser was to attend a 'nāch' (dance), given by Hindoo Rāo, the brother of the Baiza Bāi,[14] who then resided at Delhi; and determining to try whether he could not shoot him from horseback, he sent away his groom as soon as he had ascertained that Mr. Fraser was actually at the dance. Aniā went in and mixed among the assembly; and as soon as he saw Mr. Fraser rise to depart, he gave intimation to Karīm, who ordered him to keep behind, and make off as fast as he could, as soon as he should hear the report of his gun.

A little way from Hindoo Rao's house the road branches off; that to the left is straight, while that to the right is circuitous. Mr. Fraser was known always to take the straight road, and upon that Karīm posted himself, as the road up to the place where it branched off was too public for his purpose. As it happened, Mr. Fraser, for the first time, took the circuitous road to the right, and reached his home without meeting Karīm. Aniā placed himself at the cross way, and waited there till Karīm came up to him. On hearing that he had taken the right road, Karīm said that 'a man in Mr. Fraser's situation must be a strange ('kāfir') unbeliever not to have such a thing as a torch with him in a dark night. Had he had what he ought', he said, 'I should not have lost him this time'.

They passed him on the road somewhere or other almost every afternoon after this for seven days, but could never fall in with him after dark. On the eighth day, Sunday, the 22nd of March, Karīm went, as usual, in the forenoon to the great mosque to say his prayers; and on his way back in the afternoon he purchased some plums which he was eating when he came up to Aniā, whom he found cooking his dinner. He ordered his horse to be saddled immediately, and told Aniā to make haste and eat his dinner, as he had seen Mr. Fraser at a party given by the Rājā of Kishangarh. 'When his time is come,' said Karīm, 'we shall no doubt find an opportunity to kill him, if we watch him carefully.' They left the groom at home that evening, and proceeded to the 'dargāh' (church) near the canal. Seeing Aniā with merely a Stick in his hand, Karīm bid him go back and change it for a sword, while he went in and said his evening prayers.

On being rejoined by Aniā, they took the road to cantonments, which passed by Mr. Fraser's house; and Aniā observed that the risk was hardly equal in this undertaking, he being on foot, while Karīm was on horseback; that he should be sure to be taken, while the other might have a fair chance of escape. It was now quite dark, and Karīm bid him stand by sword in hand; and if anybody attempted to seize his horse when he fired, cut him down, and be assured that while he had life he would never suffer him, Aniā, to be taken. Karīm continued to patrol up and down on the high-road, that nobody might notice him, while Aniā stood by the road-side. At last, about eleven o'clock, they heard Mr. Fraser approach, attended by one trooper, and two 'peons' on foot; and Karīm walked his horse slowly, as if he had been going from the city to the cantonments, till Mr. Fraser came up within a few paces of him, near the gate leading into his house. Karīm Khān, on leaving his house, had put one large ball into his short blunderbuss; and when confident that he should now have an opportunity of shooting Mr. Fraser, he put in two more small ones. As Mr. Fraser's horse was coming up on the left side, Karīm Khān tumed round his, and, as he passed, presented his blunderbuss, fired, and all three balls passed into Mr. Fraser's breast. All three horses reared at the report and flash, and Mr. Fraser fell dead on the ground. Karīm galloped off, followed at a short distance by the trooper, and the two peons went off and gave information to Major Pew and Cornet Robinson, who resided near the place. They came in all haste to the spot, and had the body taken to the deceased's own house; but no signs of life remained. They reported the murder to the magistrate, and the city gates were closed, as the assassin had been seen to enter the city by the trooper.

Aniā ran home through the Kabul gate of the city, unperceived, while Karīm entered by the Ajmēr gate, and passed first through the encampment of Hindoo Rao, to efface the traces of his horse's feet. When he reached their lodgings, he found Aniā there before him; and Rūplā, the groom, seeing his horse in a sweat, told him that he had had a narrow escape—that Mr. Fraser had been killed, and orders given for the arrest of any horseman that might be found in or near the city. He told him to hold his tongue, and take care of the horse; and calling for a light, he and Aniā tore up every letter he had received from Fīrōzpur, and dipped the fragments in water, to efface the ink from them. Aniā asked him what he had done with the blunderbuss, and was told that it had been thrown into a well. Aniā now concealed three flints that he kept about him in some sand in the upper story they occupied, and threw an iron ramrod and two spare bullets into a well near the mosque.

The next morning, when he heard that the city gates had been all shut to prevent any one from going out till strict search should be made, Karīm became a good deal alarmed, and went to seek counsel from Moghal Beg, the friend of his master; but when in the evening he heard that they had been again opened, he recovered his spirits; and the next day he wrote a letter to the Nawāb, saying that he had purchased the dogs that he wanted, and would soon return with them. He then went to Mr. McPherson, and actually purchased from him for the Nawāb some dogs and pictures, and the following day sent Rūplā, the groom, with them to Fīrōzpur, accompanied by two bearers. A pilgrim lodged in the same place with these men, and was present when Karīm came home from the murder, and gave his horse to Rūplā. In the evening, after the departure of Rūplā with the dogs, four men of the Gūjar caste came to the place, and Karīm sat down and smoked a pipe with one of them,[15] who said that he had lost his bread by Mr. Fraser's death, and should be glad to see the murderer punished—that he was known to have worn a green vest, and he hoped he would soon be discovered. The pilgrim came up to Karīm shortly after these four men went away, and said that he had heard from some one that he, Karīm, was himself suspected of the murder. He went again to Moghal Beg, who told him not to be alarmed, that, happily, the Regulations were now in force in the Delhi Territory, and that he had only to stick steadily to one story to be safe.

He now desired Aniā to return to Fīrōzpur with a letter to the Nawāb, and to assure him that he would be stanch and stick to one story, though they should seize him and confine him in prison for twelve years. He had, he said, already sent off part of his clothes, and Aniā should now take away the rest, so that nothing suspicious should be left near him.

The next morning Aniā set out on foot, accompanied by Islāmullah, a servant of Moghal Beg's, who was also the bearer of a letter to the Nawāb. They hired two ponies when they became tired, but both flagged before they reached Nagīna, whence Aniā proceeded to Fīrōzpur, on a mare belonging to the native collector, leaving Islāmullah behind. He gave his letter to the Nawāb, who desired him to describe the affair of the murder. He did so. The Nawāb seemed very much pleased, and asked him whether Karīm appeared to be in any alarm. Aniā told him that he did not, and had resolved to stick to one story, though he should be imprisoned for twelve years. 'Karīm Khān,' said the Nawāb, turning to the brother-in-law of the former, Wāsil Khān, and Hasan Alī, who stood near him—'Karīm Khān is a very brave man, whose courage may be always relied on.' He gave Aniā eighteen rupees, and told him to change his name, and keep close to Wāsil Khān. They retired together; but, while Wāsil Khān went to his house, Aniā stood on the road unperceived, but near enough to hear Hasan Alī urge the Nawāb to have him put to death immediately, as the only chance of keeping the fatal secret. He went off immediately to Wāsil Khān, and prevailed upon him to give him leave to go home for that night to see his family, promising to be back the next morning early.

He set out forthwith, but had not been long at home when he learned that Hasan Alī, and another confidential servant of the Nawāb, were come in search of him with some troopers. He concealed himself in the roof of his house, and heard them ask his wife and children where he was, saying they wanted his aid in getting out some hyaenas they had traced into their dens in the neighbourhood. They were told that he had gone back to Fīrōzpur, and returned; but were sent back by the Nawāb to make a more careful search for him. Before they came, however, he had gone off to his friends Kamruddīn and Joharī, two brothers who resided in the Rāo Rājā's territory. To this place he was followed by some Mewātīs, whom the Nawāb had induced, under the promise of a large reward, to undertake to kill him. One night he went to two acquaintances, Makrām and Shahāmat, in a neighbouring village, and begged them to send to some English gentleman in Delhi, and solicit for him a pardon, on condition of his disclosing all the circumstances of Mr. Fraser's murder. They promised to get everything done for him through a friend in the police at Delhi, and set out for that purpose, while Aniā returned and concealed himself in the hills. In six days they came with a paper, purporting to be a promise of pardon from the court of Delhi, and desired Kamr-ud-dīn to introduce them to Aniā. He told them to return to him in three days, and he would do so; but he went off to Aniā in the hills, and told him that he did not think these men had really got the papers from the English gentlemen—that they appeared to him to be in the service of the Nawāb himself. Aniā was, however, introduced to them when they came back, and requested that the paper might be read to him. Seeing through their designs, he again made off to the hills, while they went out in search, they pretended, of a man to read it, but in reality to get some people who were waiting in the neighbourhood to assist in securing him, and taking him off to the Nawāb.