Treasures of the Sikh Empire
Spoils of War: Noun. Any items that are captured from an enemy during wartime. These items are considered movable property, meaning they can be transported from one location to another. They may include weapons and ammunition, textiles and fabrics, art, cultural artifacts, food and medical supplies, and of course jewelry — gold, silver, diamonds, and other precious gemstones.
In ancient Egypt, pharaohs amassed immeasurable wealth by conquering neighboring territories.
The Roman empire was known for plundering Carthage and Corinth for art and statues with which to enrich Rome.
During the fourth crusade, Crusaders sacked the Christian capital of Byzantine for religious relics and artworks, many of which have gotten lost with time.
During WWII, Nazi Germany systematically looted art, cultural artifacts, and personal possessions from millions of victims within its occupied territories. To this day, Jewish and Romani families worldwide are attempting to trace down the lost wealth of their ancestors.
You see, modern international law and the UN consider spoils of war to be different from illegal looting and plundering. Today, we consider much of the above to be war crimes and have conducted vast international efforts to ensure art, artifacts, and material wealth find their way back to their original owners. It is an act of restoring heritage.
But the line between plunder and a “spoil of war” has always been gray, particularly during the era of British Colonialism in the Indian Subcontinent.
During the early 19th century, the Sikh Empire, under the leadership of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, expanded itself to most of the Northwest Indian subcontinent, claiming Lahore as its capital. Known as the Lion of Punjab, Maharaja Ranjit Singh displayed astute military prowess, consolidating a fragmented Punjab into one. He ruled with valor and the principles of Sikhi that accept, defend, and encourage religious freedom.
At a time when the British East India Company ruled by antagonizing and dividing the diverse populations of India, Maharaja Ranjit Singh unified the north and created one strong adversary for the British to face. His Khalsa Army included Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims, and Europeans alike. He implemented social reforms, modernized the military, and oversaw a period of immense wealth and prosperity in Punjab. And it is this prosperity that rattled the British East India Company to its core.
During his reign of unification, Ranjit Singh lead what we might consider a cultural and artistic Sikh renaissance, starting with the rebuilding of Harmandir Sahib — also known as the Golden Temple. He revamped the Sikh shrine with marble and copper, covering its interior in gold leaf, and turning it into the architectural marvel it is today. He also patronized Takht Sri Patna Sahib and Hazur Sahib Nanded with his sponsorship.
Sadly, his untimely death in 1839 due to health complications lead to the decline of the Sikh Empire. Despite his wife, Maharani Jind Kaur’s numerous efforts to rule with the same iron fist as her husband, the empire fell to the British, and with it went their riches — most prominently, the Koh-i-Noor Diamond.
The Koh-i-Noor was often worn by the Maharaja as either an armlet or adorned on his turban. After the annexation of Punjab by the British East India Company, it was taken as a “spoil of war” from the Maharaja’s surviving eleven-year-old son, Duleep Singh, and given to Queen Victoria as a gift to commemorate the newly acquired territory. Weighing 105.6 carats, it has since become a fiercely contested part of the Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom.
The governments of India, Iran, Pakistan, and Afghanistan have contested the Crown’s ownership of the Koh-i-Noor, demanding its return to India. The British Government, however, insists that the gem was lawfully acquired under the Last Treaty of Lahore, and gifted by the Maharaja’s family.
In 2010, David Cameron, then Prime Minister of the UK, proclaimed that “if you say yes to one, you’ll suddenly find the British Museum empty.” The statement became an unintended, yet ironic admission to just how much of Britain’s artifacts and material wealth are looted from its colonial past.
Another artifact from the era that found its way to a London auction in 2018 is Rani Jind Kaur’s Emerald and Seed Pearl necklace. A gift from the maharaja that she wore proudly until her exile, the necklace disappeared around the time of her death. It resurfaced 146 years later — at Bonhams Auction in London, as part of the Islamic and Indian Art Sale. It sold for 187,000 pounds, but its sentimental value for Sikh women and early suffragettes can’t be captured monetarily.
Other treasures from the Maharaja’s reign include a never worn gold-thread embroidered, velvet bow-and-arrow holder, which sold for 100,000 pounds in 2018. It is believed that the Maharaja had it commissioned in 1838, to be worn at his eldest son, Kharak Singh’s wedding.
Aside from the material wealth that was captured either with ill will, or as spoils of war, many pieces of art, photography from the mid-19th and early 20th centuries, and well-preserved Sikh portraits with no discernable origin have found their way to auction as well. One such item is the Lockwood Kipling Album, dated 1838–1911. It contains early, never-before-seen photographs of Amritsar, the newly rebuilt Golden Temple, the bazaars of Lahore, Shalimar Gardens, and many cityscapes from the era. It sold for 125,000 pounds at Bonhams in 2018.
Some Sikh Art that has also found its way to private buyers in recent years includes this gold-and-gouache on paper depiction of Guru Gobind Singh Ji on horseback, with a smaller inset scene portraying Guru Nanak Devji sitting under a tree. This piece dates back to 1830. It was purchased at Bonhams for 21,250 pounds in 2018.
Perhaps my favorite treasure of them all is a large carved sandalwood frame with 12 ovals, each depicting an individual portrait of the ten Sikh gurus, followed by a portrait of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, and one of the Golden Temple. The piece dates back to 1882, executed by Bhai Puran Singh of Amritsar — an artist who grew up during the Sikh Renaissance of Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s rule.
Today, many of these Sikh treasures are found in private collections worldwide. The most comprehensive, and perhaps well-rounded of them all is the Toor Collection of Sikh Art — a private collection held and maintained by Davinder Toor. As the Sikh Empire fell and the colonial tastes of the era overtook the existing Sikh and Mughal art forms, much of what remained was either taken to be held in institutionalized Victorian collections or to be auctioned off to private collectors. With fewer Sikh patrons of the art, so much of our artistic identity has dispersed over the years. Patrons like Davinder Toor keep our heritage alive, piecing together stories from the Sikh Empire, bit by bit, artifact by artifact, one piece next to another.
But perhaps Sikhs in the diaspora and elsewhere should ask ourselves if we are doing enough to keep our ethnorelogious identity alive. Are we fostering an interest in our artistic past? Can we revive the short-lived Sikh Renaissance from Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s era? Can we dig deeper — past our love for music, film, storytelling, and folklore — to track down, create and display lasting physical reminders of who we are, where we come from, and how we’ve grown?
