There were two others boys from my village with me; Lehna and Natha. How hot it was! As if the whole world had been put inside a tandoor. The dust blew into our eyes and nostrils and turned our black beards to khaki. We said to ourselves ‘What is heat to Sikh Lions?’ and rode through the burning afternoons. We washed ourselves at wells along the road, rested a little under the shades of neem trees and were off again. In two days we reached Ambala.

A big bald sahib with a face as red as a monkey’s bottom came to inspect us. He had already a hundred Sikhs given by the Raja of Jind with him. He picked another hundred from villages on his route. I was in my police uniform and had my own horse, so he took me. He also took Lehna and Natha. Then he spoke to us in Poorabia language. I did not understand everything he said except that we were to fight Mussalmans and that our Guru had told Auranga that the sahibs would come from the side of the rising sun and with the help of the Sikhs overthrow his dynasty. Neither my Mai or my Bapu had told me of this prophecy. However I said to myself, what the sahib says must be true because the sahibs are wise people. One morning at parade this sahib whose name I found out later was Hodson, walked down the line poking his finger into the boys’ chests and bellies and feeling their arms. He did the same to me. He looked me up and down from my turban to my shoes. I was taller and bigger than all the boys on the line.

‘What is your name?’ he asked.

‘Nihal Singh.’

‘Nihal Singha,’ he says exactly like a pucca Punjabi, ‘Nihal Singha, you will be my orderly.’ Hodson Sahib was like that. He never asked anyone anything. He just gave orders.

The boys were burnt up with jealousy. They slapped me on my back and said Shabash! Vadhaaee! (congratulations!). But when my back was turned they called me the sahib’s chamcha (spoon). I did not care. I liked Hodson Sahib. Hodson Sahib liked me. And even though my wage was no more than that of the other sowars, even Sardar Man Singh who was our subedar always addressed me politely as Bhai Nihal Singhji.

We were given new uniforms; red turbans, khaki-shirts, red cummerbunds and khaki breeches: red-khaki, red-khaki. Other sahibs began to call us flamingoes. We were given a new matchlock which could fire very rapidly and had a long knife at its nozzle. We also carried lances.

After a few days drilling we were on the royal road to Dilli. At Karnal gora companies came down from the hills to join us. The goras could not stand the sun and the hot winds. So we rode by night and spent the days sleeping under shades of trees. We went through Gharaunda, Samalkha, Raee. These towns had turned against Jan Company. They did not dare to make the slightest choon before us. We reached the outskirts of Dilli in the pitch dark of the night. We were directed to our tents. The sahibs’ bandobast was very good.