Benki Nawab “The Fire Lord”

In the heart of southern India, during the 18th century, when the Kingdom of Mysore was at the height of its power, there lived a warrior whose name struck both awe and terror into the hearts of friend and foe alike. His name was Benki Nawab—the “Fire Lord” of Mysore. Known for his unmatched ferocity in battle and his unyielding loyalty to Tipu Sultan, Benki Nawab’s courage became legendary, earning him a place among the greatest warriors in Mysorean history.

Benki Nawab whose real name was Nawab Muhammad Reza Mir Meeran had earned his fearsome title due to his battlefield tactics that often seemed to set the sky ablaze. He was a master of artillery, the head of Zumrai Kutcheri and under his command, Mysore’s rocket forces became a devastating force that even the British feared. But beyond the fire and fury of rockets, Benki Nawab was also a brilliant commander, known for his quick thinking and undying courage.

The story of his greatest battle takes place during the Siege of Nargund in 1787. The British, in their relentless march to subjugate India, had set their sights on the strategic fort of Nargund, located in a vital position to control the surrounding territories. Tipu Sultan knew that losing Nargund would give the British a foothold deep in Mysorean lands, and he entrusted Benki Nawab with the responsibility of defending it at all costs.

The British forces, led by General Matthews, approached with a vast army, equipped with cannons, rifles, and the latest European technology of war. They were confident that Mysore, despite its fierce resistance, would eventually fall under their might. What they did not anticipate, however, was the fiery resolve of Benki Nawab.

As the British laid siege to Nargund, Benki Nawab rallied his troops, a mixed force of Mysorean soldiers—Muslims, Hindus, and Marathas—united under the common banner of protecting their homeland. The fort’s defenses were formidable, but the British had siege cannons capable of reducing the walls to rubble. The Mysoreans, though outnumbered, had one weapon the British didn’t fully understand: rockets—a technology that Tipu Sultan and his commanders had perfected into a deadly art.

On the first night of the siege, the British began their bombardment, their cannons pounding the fort’s outer walls. But Benki Nawab had anticipated this. He had studied British tactics and knew they would focus their fire on one section of the fort, hoping to breach it quickly. Under the cover of darkness, he ordered his men to prepare the Mysorean rockets, positioning them in hidden launchers along the walls.

At dawn, the British launched a full-scale assault. Their infantry marched forward in perfect formation, confident that the Mysorean defenses were crumbling. But just as they reached within striking distance of the walls, Benki Nawab gave the signal.

A barrage of rockets lit up the sky, screaming through the air like fiery serpents. The British soldiers, unaccustomed to facing such weapons, panicked as the rockets rained down upon them. Unlike cannonballs, which were predictable, the rockets curved erratically through the sky, striking randomly and sowing chaos in the British ranks. Smoke filled the battlefield as rockets exploded, setting fires across the British lines and sending soldiers scrambling for cover.

Benki Nawab, standing atop the fort’s walls, watched as his rockets wreaked havoc below. His eyes burned with intensity, like the fire he commanded. But he knew this was only the beginning. The British would regroup, and he would need more than just rockets to win this battle.

As the day wore on, the British managed to recover from the initial shock and continued their assault. They brought in heavy artillery, intending to break through the fort’s walls. Benki Nawab knew that a direct confrontation with their cannons would be suicide, so he devised a daring plan.

That night, under the cover of darkness, Benki Nawab led a small group of his best soldiers on a secret mission. Using the rugged terrain around the fort to their advantage, they silently made their way around the British camp. The British were overconfident, believing the Mysoreans would stay within their walls. They had not anticipated the audacity of Benki Nawab.

As they approached the British artillery positions, Benki Nawab and his men crept through the shadows, disabling cannons and sabotaging ammunition stores. In a final stroke of brilliance, they set fire to the British gunpowder reserves, creating a massive explosion that echoed through the night, illuminating the entire battlefield in a brilliant flash of fire.

The British camp erupted into chaos. Soldiers scrambled in confusion as their own cannons were turned into smoldering ruins. Benki Nawab and his men retreated back to the fort before the British even knew what had hit them.

For the next several days, the siege dragged on, but Benki Nawab refused to yield. His soldiers, inspired by his unshakable resolve, fought with the ferocity of men defending their homes and families. Every time the British attempted an advance, they were met with a storm of rockets, arrows, and musket fire. Benki Nawab was everywhere on the battlefield—directing troops, manning the rocket launchers, and even joining his men on the front lines.

Finally, after weeks of brutal fighting, the British, demoralized and battered, decided to withdraw. The Siege of Nargund had turned into a humiliating defeat for General Matthews and his forces. They had underestimated the fire and fury of the Mysoreans, and more importantly, they had underestimated the brilliance of Benki Nawab.

As the British retreated, the people of Nargund cheered, hailing Benki Nawab as a hero. His defense of the fort had not only saved a key stronghold but had also shown the British that Mysore was not a land that would be easily conquered.

In the years that followed, Benki Nawab’s legend grew. He continued to serve Tipu Sultan, always at the forefront of Mysore’s battles, his name becoming synonymous with bravery and tactical genius. To the British, he was a dreaded foe, a man who seemed to command the very flames of battle. To his people, he was a symbol of hope, proof that no matter the odds, courage and ingenuity could overcome even the most formidable enemies.

Benki Nawab’s legacy, much like the rockets he wielded, soared high and bright, leaving an indelible mark on the history of Mysore’s fight for independence.

The Sultan and the Tiger: A Battle of Legends

The dense forests of Savanadurga loomed large under the shadow of the Western Ghats, their thick canopy filtering the sunlight into golden beams that danced across the forest floor. The air was thick with humidity, and the sounds of wildlife echoed from all directions—a reminder that nature ruled supreme here. Yet, deep within this wilderness, there walked a man who would soon become known as the Tiger of Mysore.

It was the late 18th century, and Tipu Sultan, the fierce ruler of Mysore, was already a legend in the making. His courage on the battlefield was unmatched, his strategic brilliance admired by both allies and enemies alike. But on this particular day, Tipu wasn’t surrounded by his armies or seated on his throne. He was alone, dressed in the simple garb of a hunter, with only his dagger sheathed at his side.

Tipu had come to these forests on a quiet hunting expedition, seeking a moment of solitude from the pressures of war and governance. For years, he had fought against the British and their allies, defending his beloved Mysore from the clutches of foreign domination. But today, it was the peace of the wild that called to him—the chance to prove himself against nature’s fiercest creatures.

As he moved silently through the underbrush, his senses heightened, he heard it—a low, menacing growl. Tipu’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his dagger. His heart raced, not out of fear, but with the anticipation of a challenge. He had hunted before, but this was different. The growl came again, deeper this time, and closer. He knew what it was.

The people of Mysore spoke of a tiger that roamed these forests, a massive beast that had terrorized nearby villages. It was said that this tiger was not like others—it was stronger, smarter, and far more aggressive. Some even believed it to be the incarnation of a demon. Many had tried to hunt it down, but none had returned.

Tipu’s eyes scanned the dense foliage, his breath steady. He had always admired the tiger—its power, its grace, its fearlessness. In many ways, he saw a reflection of himself in the great cat. The tiger was a symbol of strength and defiance, much like his kingdom of Mysore.

Suddenly, the bushes ahead parted, and there it was—a massive Bengal tiger, its golden eyes locked onto Tipu. It was enormous, easily larger than any tiger Tipu had ever seen, its muscles rippling beneath its orange and black-striped fur. For a moment, the two stood frozen, predator and prey sizing each other up. But Tipu knew he was no mere prey. He was the Sultan of Mysore, and no beast—man or animal—could break his spirit.

Without warning, the tiger lunged, its powerful legs propelling it forward with terrifying speed. Tipu sidestepped just in time, the beast’s claws grazing the air where he had stood moments before. He drew his dagger, the cold steel gleaming in the slivers of sunlight, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. The tiger was too fast, too strong. Tipu needed more than just a weapon—he needed his wits and his indomitable will.

The tiger turned, snarling, its yellowed teeth bared in a show of dominance. It leaped again, this time knocking Tipu to the ground. The Sultan’s dagger clattered out of reach, lost in the tall grass. The tiger was on top of him now, its immense weight pressing down on his chest. Its jaws snapped dangerously close to his face, the stench of its breath filling the air.

But Tipu’s eyes burned with defiance. Summoning every ounce of his strength, he grabbed the tiger by its throat with both hands, his fingers digging into its thick fur. The beast roared in anger, thrashing wildly as it tried to shake him off, but Tipu held on. His arms trembled under the strain, but his grip remained firm.

With a ferocious yell, Tipu rolled, using the tiger’s momentum to flip it onto its back. Now it was the Sultan who was on top. His hands still around the tiger’s throat, he squeezed with all his might, choking the life out of the beast. The tiger writhed beneath him, its claws raking at his arms and legs, drawing blood, but Tipu’s focus never wavered. His mind was clear, his purpose absolute. This battle was not just against the tiger—it was against the fear that threatened to consume him, the same fear that he had banished from his heart long ago.

Slowly, the tiger’s struggles began to weaken. Its growls turned to gasps, and its massive paws fell limp. Tipu tightened his grip one final time, until the tiger’s body went still. The forest fell silent, save for the ragged sound of Tipu’s breathing.

He stood, bloodied but unbowed, over the lifeless body of the tiger. His chest heaved as he looked down at the beast that had once terrorized the land. He had done it—he had killed the tiger with his bare hands. The stories would spread like wildfire, but Tipu cared little for glory at that moment. This victory was personal, a testament to his own strength and resilience.

As the sun began to set, casting the forest in hues of orange and gold, Tipu Sultan wiped the blood from his hands and retrieved his dagger. He stood tall, the Tiger of Mysore, a man who had proven himself not just in battle, but in the heart of the wilderness. The tiger had been a worthy opponent, but in the end, there could only be one true tiger in Mysore. And that title belonged to him.

From that day forward, the legend of Tipu Sultan’s encounter with the tiger would grow, symbolizing the Sultan’s fearlessness and his indomitable spirit. He had not only faced the British on the battlefield, but had also conquered nature’s fiercest predator. And in the eyes of his people, that made him a ruler worthy of their deepest loyalty and respect.

Silent Warriors: The Women of Mysore’s Unseen Battle

In the late 18th century, the kingdom of Mysore stood as one of the few bastions of resistance against the growing tide of British imperialism in India. The armies of Hyder Ali and later his son, Tipu Sultan, were famed for their courage and military prowess, fighting valiantly to defend their homeland. Yet, behind the scenes, away from the frontlines, there was another force at work—one that history often overlooks. It was the women of Mysore who, with quiet strength and determination, played an indispensable role in the kingdom’s war efforts.

One such woman was Jahnavi, a young widow from a village near Srirangapatna, the capital of Mysore. Like many other women during that tumultuous time, Jahnavi’s life had been shaped by war. Her husband had been a soldier in Tipu Sultan’s army, and he had fallen in battle during the siege of Bangalore. Grief-stricken but resolute, Jahnavi did not retreat into sorrow. Instead, she found purpose in helping Mysore’s struggle against the British, determined to contribute in any way she could.

As the war with the British intensified, the need for supplies, food, and clothing for the soldiers became increasingly desperate. The men on the frontlines relied heavily on the efforts of those at home, and the women of Mysore rose to the challenge. Jahnavi, along with hundreds of other women from the region, became part of an organized network that worked tirelessly to support the war effort.

The women would gather daily in the courtyards of their homes and temples, spinning cotton, weaving cloth, and preparing food rations for the soldiers. They took great pride in their work, knowing that the uniforms and supplies they produced would provide comfort and protection to those fighting to defend their kingdom. The Mysore army was known for its distinctive uniforms, and it was these women who labored to ensure that every soldier had a proper garment, stitched with care and infused with their hopes for victory.

But Jahnavi’s contributions didn’t stop at spinning and weaving. As the war dragged on, the British tightened their siege around Mysore, cutting off vital supply lines. Food became scarce, and morale among the soldiers began to falter. In this dire situation, Jahnavi and a group of courageous women took it upon themselves to ensure that the soldiers didn’t go hungry.

Disguised as simple villagers, they would make daring journeys into enemy-controlled territory to gather food, herbs, and other essentials. Using their knowledge of the land, they navigated through forests, hills, and rivers, often under the cover of darkness. These women, who had never picked up a weapon in their lives, became stealthy warriors in their own right, risking capture or death at the hands of the British forces. Their bravery was silent but vital, and they ensured that the Mysorean army remained fed and sustained even in the darkest days of the war.

Jahnavi’s most remarkable act of courage, however, came during the siege of Srirangapatna in 1799, the final stand of Tipu Sultan against the British forces. As the British army prepared for a final assault on the city, the situation inside the fort grew dire. Ammunition was running low, and the British had blockaded the city, cutting off any chance of resupply.

It was then that Jahnavi and a group of women volunteered for a mission that would change the course of history. The Mysorean army desperately needed gunpowder to defend the city, and the only remaining stockpile was located outside the fort, in a hidden cache that had been overlooked by the British. However, retrieving it would require passing through enemy lines, a task too dangerous for most.

But Jahnavi, with her intimate knowledge of the land, devised a plan. She and the other women disguised themselves as merchants, carrying baskets of vegetables and other goods, appearing as nothing more than local villagers going about their daily business. Beneath their seemingly innocuous cargo, however, were carefully concealed barrels of gunpowder. With nerves of steel, they slipped through the British checkpoints, smiling and speaking in soft voices, never once betraying the perilous mission they were on.

The journey was treacherous, and there were moments when it seemed that they would be discovered. But Jahnavi’s calm demeanor and quick thinking saved them time and again. Finally, after hours of careful maneuvering, they reached the hidden cache, loaded their baskets with gunpowder, and made the dangerous return journey to the fort.

When Jahnavi and the women arrived at the gates of Srirangapatna, the soldiers inside could hardly believe their eyes. Against all odds, these women had succeeded in delivering the much-needed supplies, allowing the Mysoreans to continue their defense. Jahnavi’s courage and that of the women who accompanied her inspired the soldiers to fight with renewed vigor, knowing that their people, even those not on the battlefield, were willing to risk everything for the cause.

Though the siege of Srirangapatna ultimately ended in the fall of the city and the death of Tipu Sultan, the contributions of the women of Mysore, like Jahnavi, were not forgotten. Their bravery, resilience, and unwavering dedication to their homeland played a crucial role in the kingdom’s resistance against the British. They had not fought with swords or guns, but their contributions were just as significant, if not more so.

Jahnavi returned to her village after the fall of Mysore, but her story spread far and wide. She became a symbol of the strength and determination of Mysore’s women, an inspiration to future generations. The women of Mysore had shown that war was not just the domain of men—that their courage and contributions were essential in defending their homeland.

The story of Jahnavi and the women of Mysore reminds us that in times of great adversity, heroes are born not only on the battlefield but also in the quiet acts of bravery that often go unseen. Their legacy is one of hope, resilience, and the unshakeable belief that even in the face of overwhelming odds, every individual has the power to make a difference.

Haider was his name!

In the mid-18th century, as the Indian subcontinent trembled under the weight of the British East India Company’s expanding power, a new force emerged from the southern kingdom of Mysore. Hyder Ali, a man of humble origins, had risen through the ranks to become the ruler of Mysore and the architect of a military machine that would become one of the most formidable forces in India. His leadership, military acumen, and relentless determination turned Mysore into a significant regional power and inspired generations of soldiers to fight for the independence of their homeland.

One of the most dramatic moments in Mysore’s military history under Hyder Ali was during the First Anglo-Mysore War (1767–1769). At the time, the British East India Company, backed by the Marathas and the Nizam of Hyderabad, sought to weaken Hyder Ali’s growing influence in southern India. The British believed that Mysore, surrounded by stronger forces and with seemingly fewer resources, would be an easy target. But Hyder Ali, with his astute military strategy and fierce army, had other plans.

As tensions escalated, the British, under Colonel Joseph Smith, made their move, advancing towards Mysorean territory. Hyder Ali, knowing he was outnumbered and surrounded on multiple fronts, devised a brilliant strategy that would turn the tide of war and cement his reputation as a military genius.

Hyder Ali had long recognized the importance of unorthodox warfare, something the British were not used to facing. Rather than meeting the enemy head-on in open battle where Mysore’s smaller forces could be overwhelmed, he decided to employ guerrilla tactics. Hyder’s forces harassed the British, attacking their supply lines, cutting off reinforcements, and wearing down their morale with swift, surprise attacks. The British, confident in their European tactics, found themselves bewildered by the hit-and-run style of the Mysorean army, which used the terrain to its advantage.

Hyder Ali’s cavalry was the backbone of his strategy. His horsemen, swift and skilled, struck fear into the British ranks. Riding through the rugged hills and dense forests of southern India, they launched surprise raids on British encampments, capturing supplies, horses, and arms. The British, used to fighting in open fields and relying on heavy infantry and artillery, were unprepared for this kind of warfare. They began to falter, and their advances slowed to a crawl.

Despite these victories, the war was far from over. In early 1769, the British, determined to take control of Mysore, laid siege to Mangalore, a crucial coastal city under Hyder Ali’s control. Mangalore was a vital strategic point for Mysore, both economically and militarily, and Hyder Ali knew he had to act quickly.

As the siege dragged on, Hyder Ali devised a bold plan. Instead of confronting the British forces head-on at Mangalore, he decided to launch a daring counterattack deep within enemy territory. His target: Madras, the headquarters of the British East India Company in southern India. It was an audacious move, but one that perfectly showcased Hyder Ali’s genius.

While the British were preoccupied with the siege of Mangalore, Hyder Ali led a lightning-fast march toward Madras, covering vast distances in a matter of days. His army, moving with precision and speed, bypassed British defenses and appeared outside the gates of Madras, catching the British completely off-guard. The sudden presence of Hyder Ali’s forces at their doorstep sent shockwaves through the British leadership, who had never anticipated such a bold maneuver.

Faced with the imminent threat of losing Madras, the British were forced to abandon the siege of Mangalore and rush to negotiate with Hyder Ali. The British had no choice but to sue for peace, and on April 4, 1769, the Treaty of Madras was signed. Under the terms of the treaty, all captured territories were returned to Mysore, and both sides agreed to mutual support in the event of attacks by third parties. The treaty marked a humiliating setback for the British and a stunning victory for Hyder Ali.

For the soldiers of Mysore, this victory was more than just a military triumph—it was a testament to their loyalty, discipline, and the leadership of a man who had risen from obscurity to challenge one of the world’s greatest empires. The story of Hyder Ali’s campaign became legendary, inspiring not only the Mysorean soldiers but also future generations, including his son, Tipu Sultan, who would continue his father’s fight against the British.

Hyder Ali’s victory was a beacon of hope in a time when much of India was falling under colonial rule. It showed that, with unity, strategy, and the will to resist, even the mightiest of foes could be humbled. His army, composed of Hindus, Muslims, and others from various backgrounds, stood as a testament to the idea that the strength of Mysore lay in its diversity and its shared love for the land.

The soldiers who served under Hyder Ali were part of a greater cause, one that transcended personal glory or wealth. They fought for the freedom of Mysore, for their homes, their families, and their future. Their courage and resilience in the face of overwhelming odds became the stuff of legend, a reminder that no matter how powerful the enemy, a nation united in purpose could never be truly conquered.

Hyder Ali’s leadership and the bravery of the Mysorean army during the First Anglo-Mysore War became a defining moment in Indian resistance against colonial rule. Though the British would return, stronger and more determined, the legacy of Hyder Ali’s victories would inspire continued resistance, reminding all that the spirit of freedom was not easily extinguished.

Raghavendra the unsung hero of 1792 Srirangapatan siege

In the shadow of the great Western Ghats, nestled deep within the mighty kingdom of Mysore, there lived a man named Raghavendra Rao. Born to a humble family in a village near Srirangapatna, Raghavendra was raised on stories of valor, honor, and duty. From a young age, he had heard tales of the kingdom’s legendary ruler, Tipu Sultan, the Tiger of Mysore, who was feared and respected by both allies and enemies alike. Raghavendra grew up with a deep sense of pride for his land and an unwavering loyalty to his king, though he came from a different faith.

By the time Raghavendra came of age, the winds of war had swept across the kingdom. The British East India Company, backed by the Marathas and the Nizam, sought to bring Tipu Sultan to his knees. But Mysore, under Tipu’s rule, was no ordinary kingdom. It was a melting pot of people from different faiths—Muslims, Hindus, and Christians—bound together by their love for the land and loyalty to their Sultan. Tipu, though often misunderstood by his enemies, valued the courage and loyalty of his people above all, regardless of their religion.

Raghavendra joined the Mysorean army as a young soldier, driven by his desire to protect his homeland. He served in the Asad-i-Ilahi corps, one of the most feared battalions in Tipu Sultan’s army. His reputation as a fierce and loyal warrior grew quickly, and soon he found himself rising through the ranks. Raghavendra was not just a soldier; he was a symbol of unity, a reminder that the fight for Mysore was a fight for all its people, not just one community.

By the year 1792, the war had reached its zenith. The British, determined to capture Srirangapatna, Tipu Sultan’s capital, laid siege to the city. The siege was brutal, and Tipu’s forces, though valiant, were stretched thin. It was during this time that Raghavendra’s loyalty and courage would be tested like never before.

One night, as the moon hung low over the battlefield, Tipu Sultan summoned Raghavendra to his tent. The Sultan, dressed in his royal armor, stood tall and resolute despite the overwhelming odds.

“Raghavendra,” Tipu began, his voice calm but commanding, “the British forces are preparing to breach the northern wall. We are surrounded, and our supplies are running low. I need a soldier I can trust to lead a small battalion to defend the breach. You have fought with honor and bravery, and I believe you are the one to lead this mission.”

Raghavendra bowed low, his heart swelling with pride. “Your Majesty, it is my honor to serve. I will defend the wall with my life.”

Tipu Sultan smiled faintly. “I know you will. Remember, this battle is not just for Mysore but for the dignity of every man, woman, and child who calls this land home. Fight not just for me, but for all of us.”

With those words, Raghavendra set out with a small group of soldiers to defend the northern wall. As the British forces advanced, Raghavendra and his men stood their ground. The battle that followed was fierce, with cannon fire and musket shots lighting up the night sky. Despite being outnumbered, Raghavendra’s battalion fought with an unmatched ferocity. His sword flashed in the moonlight as he led charge after charge, driving back the British forces time and again.

But the enemy was relentless. As the hours wore on, the Mysorean forces began to dwindle. Raghavendra, wounded but undeterred, continued to rally his men, refusing to let the British break through. His thoughts were not of victory or defeat; they were of his king, his land, and his people—people of every faith who looked to Tipu Sultan as a protector of their way of life.

Just when it seemed that the British would overwhelm them, Raghavendra spotted reinforcements arriving from within the city—soldiers sent by Tipu himself. With renewed hope, Raghavendra led one final charge, breaking through the British lines and forcing them to retreat from the northern wall.

The dawn broke over Srirangapatna, and the city, though battered, still stood tall. Raghavendra, exhausted and bleeding, stood atop the battlements, watching as the British forces withdrew. His chest heaved with the weight of the battle, but his heart was filled with pride. He had fought for Mysore, for his king, and for the unity of a kingdom that refused to be divided.

Later that morning, as Tipu Sultan walked the walls to inspect the damage, he found Raghavendra standing among his men, weary but victorious. The Sultan approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You have done a great service to Mysore today, Raghavendra,” Tipu said, his voice filled with gratitude. “Your courage and loyalty will not be forgotten. You have proven that in this land, it is not faith that binds us, but our love for each other and for our homeland.”

Raghavendra bowed his head, humbled by the Sultan’s words. “Your Majesty, it is I who am honored to serve you. Mysore is our mother, and you are her protector. As long as I have breath in my body, I will fight for her.”

Tipu Sultan smiled, a rare and fleeting expression of warmth. “And fight you shall, my friend. For Mysore still needs its sons, and we shall not let her fall.”

The siege of Srirangapatna would continue for many more days, and though the war would eventually take its toll, Raghavendra’s story became a legend among the people of Mysore. He was remembered not just as a soldier, but as a symbol of the unity that Tipu Sultan had worked so hard to foster—a unity that transcended religion, caste, or creed.

In the end, Mysore may have faced defeat at the hands of the British, but the spirit of its people—people like Raghavendra—lived on. They had fought for something greater than themselves, for a land where Hindus, Muslims, and all others stood together as one. And in that unity, even in the face of loss, they had found victory.