Story Of Rani Lakshmi Bai’s Adopted Son Damodar Rao

Probably everyone is aware of Rani Laxmibai. The valour of the Queen of Jhansi and her sacrifice can be heard in the oral ballads of Bundelkhand and read in the documentary evidences chronicling the history of Jhansi as well as the numerous accounts of the first war of Independence fought in 1857.

The recently released movie – Manikarnika – only goes on to cement the legendary queen’s status as one of the tallest icons of India’s freedom struggle whose memory continues to inspire both men and women of the country in more than one way.

But every story of Rani Laxmibai has as one of its remarkable highlights the brave queen fighting the East India Company forces with her young adopted son, Damodar Rao, tied to her back. In fact, it was Damodar Rao’s right to the throne of Jhansi which became the reason for the war. The East India Company wanted to annex Jhansi using the infamous Doctrine of Lapse, while the people of Jhansi wanted Rao to ascend to the throne.

 

Yet despite his importance, Damodar Rao has been reduced to a footnote in history. So what happened to Damodar Rao?

Thankfully, Marathi historian YN Kelkar’s “Itihasachya Sahali” or “Voyages in History” brings before its readers the memoirs of Damodar Rao Newalkar, who was born Anand Rao.

In his memoirs, Damodar Rao recounts in good detail what happened to him following the 1857 war.

“I was born on 15th November 1849 in Jhansi in a collateral branch of the ruling Newalkar dynasty. On my birth, the court astrologers looked at the stars and prophesised that I had a ‘Raj Yog’ or destined to become a king. And how tragically true this prophesy turned out to be!

After a young age of three, I was adopted by Maharaja Gangadhar Rao of Jhansi. An application was sent to the East India Company’s representative in Bundelkand to recognize my adoption, but my adoptive father died soon after before a confirmation could be received. After this, my adoptive mother, Rani Laxmibai of Jhansi sent a representation of Lord Dalhousie in Calcutta to recognize me as an heir to the throne but this appeal was rejected.

The British East India Company declared that the kingdom of Jhansi would be annexed under the doctrine of lapse and that my mother, Rani Laxmibai, would get an annual pension of Rs 5000. In addition Masaheb (Rani Laxmibai) would also inherit all the personal property of my father including the palaces and jewellery.

Lord Dalhousie decided that I could inherit these personal assets of my late father but not the kingdom. In addition, there were 7 lakh rupees in the treasury in the name of my late father. When Masaheb requested for the same, she was informed that the British Govt would be hold this money in trust till I reached majority and then, it would be handed over to me.

In 1857, my fate changed for worse. My mother never forgave the British for the annexation of our kingdom and she raised a banner of revolt along with the entire the populace of Jhansi. Unfortunately, we lost Jhansi due to treachery and had to flee to Gwalior.

In the battle in Gwalior, Masaheb became a martyr. My attendants (Ram Chandra Rao Deshmukh and Kashi Bai and others) would tell be that she carried me on her back on the battlefield. I was too young to remember this. After Masaheb’s death, I remained in Gwalior for the next three days.

Of Masaheb’s confidants, only 60 had survived the battle. Nanekhan Risaldar, a Maratha named Ganpatrao, Raghunath Singh and Ramchadra Rao Deshmukh took me under their guardianship and with 22 horses and 60 camels, we broke away from the camp of Raosaheb, brother of Peshwa Nanasaheb of Bithur and decided to find our own way out.

We fled along the inhospitable terrain, jungles and ravines and fled towards the direction of Chanderi in Bundelkhand. No village on the way was willing to take pity and help us due to the fear of reprisals by the British. Since a refuge in any of the villages was virtually impossible, we took shelter in a dense forest by edge of the river.

Due to lack of any camping equipment, we had to sleep under the open skies. During the scorching heart of the summer, we would have sleep inside the deep forest amidst the trees. Our skin would burn due to the heat. We had no food and hence had to survive on fruits and berries found in the forest.

Fortunately, Mother Nature took pity on us and we never slept hungry in the forest. We were afraid of going to nearby villages for help as there were British soldiers roving everywhere hunting for the rebels. Only in extreme emergencies would our men venture out, with life in their hands and get required provisions from local villages. This went on till the end of summer. As monsoon began, things went from bad to worse. All forest paths would be flooded making it impossible for us to move. Remembering those terrible days sends shiver down my spine. Fortunately god finally took pity on us. A local village headman informed us that as the British has set up a camp at Lalitpur, he could not help us directly but if we moved to a secret location in the forest as suggested by him, he would provide us with provisions over there.

On advice of Naik Raghunath Singh, we broke our camp and started living at different locations in small groups of 10 to avoid any suspicion.

We reached an agreement with that local village headman that we would give him Rs.500 every month plus 9 horses and 4 camels and in return, he would supply us with required provisions and keep us informed about British movements. At this time, we were around 11 people. As agreed, we went to live in a cave by a steep cliff. Below the cliff was the Vetravati river. There was a temple of Mahadev nearby too. River Vetravati (Sanskrit name for River Betwa) ran with a great force and there was a large and lovely waterfall. Around us, there were several lakes and ponds. The sheer pristine beauty of the place made us forget some of our sorrows. In this way, we spent as two whole years as wanderers and fugitives.

During these years, I was unwell the whole time. In the month of Bhadrapad, my condition worsened. My retainers were worried if I would even survive the ordeal.

They begged the village headman to send someone to treat me. Even the village headman was shocked to see my pitiable and delicate state. He soon got a local doctor or a “vaid” who happened to be his uncle to treat me in secrecy. As I recovered from my illness, another problem arose. While fleeing Gwalior, we had around Rs. 60,000 with us which by now had been fully exhausted. Now, with no money to pay, the headman rudely asked us to leave and we had no choice but to comply. We gave the headman Rs.200 and asked for the return of our horses. That charlatan returned only three horses and informed us that others had died! We left as a group of 12 however, on our way further, we were joined by another batch of followers that had left earlier and soon became 24.

We soon reached the village of Shipri-Kolaras in the Gwalior state. The locals there recognized us as rebels and put us all under arrest. We were in local jail for 3 days.

Then under and escort of 10 horsemen and 25 sepoys, we were sent to the Political Agent at Jhalrapatan. As our horses had been confiscated, we had to walk for days. My men could not bear to see my plight and carried me on their back by turns. Most of my mother’s men who had survived had taken asylum in Jhalrapatan. There was a Political agency nearby managed by a Poltical Agent named Mr. Flink. One of my mother’s risaldar named Nanhekhan was working at this political agency. He was a trusted aide of Mr. Flink. He went to Mr Flink and said, ‘Late Ranisaheb of Jhansi had a son who is now just 9-10 year old. After she died in the battlefield, that little child had to live in the forest like an animal. His trusted followers have looked after him with care. What is the fault of this innocent child? What has he ever done against the British Raj? Please spare that child and entire Hindustan shall shower blessings on you.’

Mr Flink was a kind man. He sent a message to the Political Agent at Indore, Col Sir Richard Shakespeare, to which Colonel replied, ‘If Rani of Jhansi’s son surrenders willingly, I shall see that his affairs are settled.’

Mr Flink asked Nanhekhan to take me to Indore. On the way we met Raja Prithvisinh of Jhalrapatan. He had great respect for masaheb and he treated me very well and promised that he would put in a good word for me with the resident at Ajmer.

We were kept in prison near Jhalrapatan for around 3 months. We had no money till then and so I was forced to sell the two bracelets or “todas” of 32 tolas each which belonged to late Masaheb. There were the last remaining memories of her with me. And now they were lost.

On 5th May 1860, we reached Indore cantonment. There I met the political agent, Sir Richard Shakespeare. I was placed under guardianship of a Kashmiri official called Munshi Dharmanarayan (to teach Damodar Urdu, English and Marathi). I was allowed to keep only 7 followers and all others had to leave. I was allotted an annual pension of Rs. 10,000, which I had no option but to take as I was only a child then.”

The memoir ends here.

Kelkar’s book further tells us that the British refused to hand over the Rs 7 lakh they held in a “trust” in the name of Damodar Rao. Though he requested the British to restore him some of his rights, they didn’t. Thus the son of Rani Laxmibai was forced to live the rest of his life in penury.

He later settled in Indore, where he got married to the daughter of Vasudeoraobhau Bhatavdekar in 1872. Following the death of his first wife, Rao married the daughter of Balwantrao Moreshwar Shevde. His son, Lakshman Rao, was born in 1904 out of this marriage. Two years after Lakshman Rao’s birth, on 28th May 1906, Damodar Rao passed away.

Lakshman Rao was honoured by the Uttar Pradesh government on 10 May 1957 for his family’s unforgettable contribution to the freedom struggle. He died in 1959. His descendants then adopted the surname ‘Jhansiwale’ to connect their lineage to the land where their ancestors belonged.

His son Krishnarao Jhansiwale married and had issue, Arunrao Jhansiwale. Krishnarao also had a brother, Chandrakantrao Jhansiwale, who had three sons – Pramod Jhansiwale, Akshay Jhansiwale and Atul Jhansiwale.