The Dreadful Bibighar

The dreadful Bibighar, found in its state of fresh slaughter on the 17th of July by Havelock’s men reduced many of them to tears of rage and howls of anger. The shock of seeing the bodies of the women, stuffed rudely into the well, the bloodied floor, the small trophies here and there – a Bible, scraps of paper, a locket with a lock of hair behind the glass, toys, bonnets and children’s frocks, little shoes strewn in the gory mess and the tresses of long hair embedded in the walls, was enough to unnerve even the most hardened soldier. John Sherer wisely organised the well to be filled as quickly as possible, if only to prevent the stench of decomposition from fouling the air of the surrounding area.

As the bodies decayed, he would have to fill it again until it was finally closed off permanently. But it would become a macabre ritual for anyone who set foot in Cawnpore, whether under Havelock, Neill or Campbell, to visit the ghastly site, swear their oaths and leave with vengeance in their hearts. The men under Havelock took to scribbling on the walls, morbid graffiti to the tune of “Countrymen, avenge us!” and such like sayings. Sherer and the others who first saw the Bibighar would vehemently deny there was any writing at all when they arrived. A few mementoes were found, including a list of the occupants written carefully out on a piece of paper by the Bengali doctor who had tended the prisoners at the Bibighar and paid for his service with his life, put to death on the Nana’s orders. Likewise, they found a short summary of misery left by one of the Lindsay girls. Men would continue to take bits of hair and cloth as trophies to remind them what they were now fighting for. The cry, “Remember Cawnpore!” was born on the 17th of July and would haunt India for generations.