poornachandra
I was reading a book on Indian history.
“Robert Clive was responsible for the establishment of the British Empire in India.” This sentence got me thinking. Thinking about that man and his strange story.
Clive! Baron Clive of Plassey. 1725 to 1774. British soldier and colonialist. Founder of the British Empire in India.
The problem child of an English commoner! A person who was pronounced worthless by the wise old men in his neighbourhood!
An exasperating young man whose father was driven to desperation and forcibly transported his son to Madras in the service of the East India Company.
That’s how Clive reached Indian shores. He was just an insignificant clerk, very much like his harassed old parent. Inconsequential with his limited and unremarkable talents. Practically a failure, very early in life.
But ambition, they say, is the last refuge of the failure. It was a wise man who remarked that the greatest evil which fortune can inflict on men is to endow them with small talents and great ambition. Ambition is the fuel of achievement. And the incentive to ambition is the love of power.
With an ambition that is a common affliction of men – lust for power, lust for fame, and lust for lucre – supplemented by the enthusiasm of the young blood throbbing in his veins Clive chose to forsake the scribe’s quill and pick up the sword. To be a soldier of fortune.
During the course of his tumultuous life in India, he was captured by French, escaped, was allowed to make his proposed daring dash to seize Arcot, held citadel eight weeks with small a force until relieved and captured other French strongholds. He left for England only to return again to India. He was governor of Fort St. David when he reduced the pirate stronghold of Gheriah. He was then sent to avenge the atrocity of Black Hole of Calcutta. Clive recovered Calcutta, defeated the Mughal nawab Sirâj-ud-Dawlah at Plassey, and installed Mîr Jaffar as nawab. At one time he was the virtual ruler of Bengal. He repulsed the Dutch colonizing attempt, entered Parliament in England and was raised to Irish peerage as Baron Clive of Plassey. He was sent out as governor and commander in chief of Bengal to right the disorder and corruption grown up in his absence. Then he reformed civil service, restored military discipline and obtained for East India Company sovereignty over the whole province.
Deep-rooted avarice and self-interest, strong elements of his character, stoked and sustained the fire in him. That fire kept him going through the ups and downs of life and he survived the vicissitudes of fortune. Using his brain and brawn both, Clive managed to gain a foothold across the threshold of the vast continent called India. He then handed over the spoils of his victory to his masters. All this, to impress his superiors and gain their approbation. For the pleasure of some plaudits. To erase the obloquy from his memory. The psychological reaction to a childhood filled with disapproval and scorn from his elders.
But –
That foothold – a consequence of one man’s desire for some accomplishment and satisfaction – underwent a transformation of exponential proportions. It paved way for the discontentment and misery of a nation. It grew to a gargantuan size, big enough to trample the freedom of millions of Indians. A man afflicted by the most common of human sins changed the course or history. A nation endured two centuries of servitude and suffering. No wonder that somebody exclaimed that history is often cruel, and rarely logical.
When a disgruntled failure decided to reverse his fate and prove his critics wrong, and prove that he was not worthless as they thought …
Providence ordained that India, a nation acknowledged for its wealth, valor and wisdom become a servile colony of an imperial power. A great nation subordinated by a country comparatively so small and so far away that it was barely significant before history willed otherwise.
A stubborn man clutched at his fortunes, and it became a vise like grip around the fate of a people. And to loosen that hold …
Multitudes cried, fought, sacrificed and died. Delicate skin tolerated angry whiplashes and painful welts. Brave chests were daringly bared to face a hail of bullets. Free spirits were tormented by long agonising prison sentences. Mothers gave up their children for the Motherland. Widows mourned their martyred husbands. Generations renounced their invaluable youth. Emotions swelled. Rebellion raged. Battles were waged. Heroes were born. Hearts were torn. Millions prayed. Legends were made. A momentous struggle was launched and sustained at great costs.
India’s historic saga through the tortuous path of time and an eager nation’s long wait for liberty… everything to loosen one stubborn man’s hold…
The catharsis came after what seemed timeless ages. For an era there were masters and there are slaves — and then, on an extraordinary midnight, there were the free. The shackles were finally broken. The language of liberty was jubilantly spoken. What a journey it was…
A journey that began with one man’s ambitious step. Clive. There’s a story that recounts Clive’s attempt at suicide. It was before his voyage to India. Despaired by failure and discouraged by taunts, he decided to end his misery. He tried to shoot himself with his pistol. The barrel was pointed to his chest when he fired. But the bullet, by some quirk of fate, veered and missed the heart by a hairbreadth. Young Clive failed to die and was condemned to live. It was then that he was sent away from English shores to seek a new life in India. What a twist in the tale!
What followed is… history. What extraordinary vehicles destiny selects to accomplish its design!
If –
If that bullet had stayed its course… if only it had found its mark… How different would the story have been! What course would history have taken… for India, for England, for the world and its entire people…
And to know that he eventually succeeded, years later, in killing himself on returning to England…
The verse of Samuel Coleridge says it all –
“There's no such thing as chance;
And what to us seems merest accident
Springs from the deepest source of destiny.”
No comments:
Post a Comment