and Turwutt jo Thullo
Suddenly Suzuki Cultus was brimming with excitement as the audio system played those melodious notes from Sarmad Sindhi about Karoonjhar Mountains, the rain soothing the sands of Thar, and Indian peafowls dancing in the downpour. A sand storm was gaining momentum as we neared Chhor Cantonment towards the end of first day of our trip. A little while ago, at a wayside restaurant at Umerkot, as we sipped those blissful siplets of doodh patti, Qayyum had come to know that Nagarparkar was also on the itinerary. We were on a three-day road trip across the Thar & Parkar and I had hired Qayyum as my driving buddy. Qayyum, a native of Sind had never been beyond Umerkot (Amarkot of yore), and this explains the excitement in the car and the melodious notes of Sarmad Sindhi with the mention of which, dear reader, this story begins.
Into the second day of our trip, Khokhropar onwards we set our bearing to Chachro with an intention of hitting Nagarparkar by sundown. Our stay was pre-arranged at Rooplo Kohli Resort, the prized showcase from Sind Tourism Development Corporation.
“Kyun bhai, chaaoni ke guest room ko chor ke Rooplo Kohli resort mein kyun?” (why are we staying at Rooplo Kohli resort and not in a regular cantonment guest room?), Qayyum was quick to ask. Little did he know that this question would have repercussions for him the very next morning.
“Rooplo Kohli ki kahani pata hey?” (do you know the story of Rooplo Kohli?), I was quick to ask. “Nahin Bhai, aap bataayen na!” (I don’t know, you tell me!), was the response.
So, in the deserted wilderness of Chahcro – Islamkot road, skirting the tricky sand dunes freshly formed after the previous day’s sandstorm, the ballad of Rooplo Kohli from the beloved land of Nagarparkar was retold.
In our story, dear reader, there’s one George Booth Tyrwhitt, a British officer, initially soldier and then civil servant from the days of Raj, locals fondly call him “Turwutt” in their Thari dialect. Then there’s Karoonjhar, the black landmass of sprinkling granite that folds into mountains in the backdrop of the city of Nagarparkar. There among the mountains, the high summit of a knoll flattens to form a pedestal that our Turwutt guy used to frequent in his days of local administration. Tyrwhitt would climb the hill for a daily dose of all round observation self-served with whiskey & soda and the local lore has named the summit after the frequent climber as Turwutt jo Thullo (The Pedestal of Tyrwhitt).
Decades ago, during one of his earlier visits to Nagarparkar, my guru Salman Rashid while resting under the shade of Bhodesar Mosque was told by a local that no trip to “Nangar” was complete without climbing up to Turwutt jo Thullo. Salman in his bid to evade the climb in the simmering heat of early April was “scoffed at for being a pansy”. Following the footsteps of my guru, Qayyum and I on the other hand, upon entering the town of Nagarparkar in the blistering heat of mid June, had our sights set on the high pedestal. We had planned a pre-dawn scaling of the summit, Turwutt jo Thullo in Karoonjhar hills, on our very first morning in Nagarparkar. All of this to pay a befitting tribute to our hero, Rooplo Kohli.
‘Gazetteer of the Province of Sind’ published in 1907 tells us of “an attack on the Telegraph Office and the Treasury after killing of the Police Guard”. In an action that so much resembles the 1857 rebellion in Bangla Gogera (near Okara) our rebels took possession of Nagarparkar town, and the day was Apr 15th, 1859. In a typical colonial styled narration our gazetteer places the blame on Ranas for rousing Kohlis into revolt to evade the taxes levied after Thar & Parkar were incorporated into Sind, under Hyderabad Collectorate from Bhuj. It introduces us to one Lieutenant Tyrwhitt and his 600 police levies, but in an attempt to relegate the spirit of resistance it omits any mention of the real hero of rebellion, the man behind the Nagarparkar revolt, our Rooplo Kohli.
A biographical sketch of Tyrwhitt, George Booth tells us of a Lieutenant from 5th Bombay Native Infantry back in 1851, whom we find as Deputy Collector for the District of Mirpurkhas in 1854. The gentleman who later on administered the affairs in the desert of Sind is affectionately remembered by Nagarparkar locals as Turwutt, and the pedestal in Karoonjhar hills that he climbed daily with an in-pouch supply of whiskey & soda, as Turwutt jo Thullo.
Barkat Noonari takes us to village Kumbhari in Nagarparkar where Rooplo Kohli was born and lived. A cemented slab built as a memorial to our hero tells us that our martyr Rooplo Gohel (a subtribe of Kohlis) lives on eternally since June 26, 1765. Rooplo rose to fame as the saviour for Kohlis, fighting for the right of Parkari tribes to own and till lands. Our local lore tells us that Rooplo’s initial resistance was against local landlords, but then Sodha Rajputs of Parkar joined hands with Rooplo Kohli and his warriors in their fight against the British.
On April 15 of 1859 when the army of Sodha Rajputs and Kohlis attacked Nagarparkar, British forces were moved from as far as Hyderabad to give battle to the rebels. We are told of the heroics of Virawah brothers on the first day of battle, where one brother was killed and the other was taken captive. Rooplo Kohli too fought valiantly but his ill equipped force was no match to the British who eventually recaptured Nagarparkar. Rooplo and his gang fled to the treacherous folds of the neighbouring Karoonjhar mountains, from where they often raided the British convoys and infrastructure in the town.
On our very first morning in Nagarparkar, we were to climb the hills of Karoonjhar to honour the rebellious hideout of Rooplo Kohli and endeavour to reach the summit, Turwutt jo Thallo in memory of George Tyrwhitt. The sun was yet to rise when Qayyum and I were at the Rangers’ check post in Nagarparkar, where a local guide was arranged to take us all the way to our pedestal in Karoonjhar hills. Our guide was Dholu Kohli, a young lad of hardly 13-14 years. Just beside the Nagarparkar museum, from a parking lot, the climb begins that takes around an hour and a half to the pedestal, but our Dholu was hell bent to make it in an affair of less than 30 mins. A flight of never ending steps,, courtesy Sindh Tourism, has made this trek tough on knees for the willing climbers. Qayyum, who had seen Hill Park and Kati Pahari in Karachi thus far, embraced this challenge with mixed determination and emotions.
By daybreak we had made it to the summit. Dholu, I and Qayyum in the same order with an equal interval of 15 – 20 mins each. A modest flagpole made of a stick and a chequered rag marks the pedestal. My guru Salman Rashid, had first climbed it during mid August, from when he tells us of white-cheeked bulbuls and Indian tree pies singing in the acacia trees amidst the gusting breeze. In our case Bhadon was still a distant dream, so were bulbuls. We started off at 6 when there was a gentle morning breeze. During the climb as the land wrinkled there were some rough sweaty patches with no wind at all, but the cool breeze on the top was worth the adventure.
It was here in Karoonjhar hills, dear reader, that our freedom fighter had eloped and was eventually hanged by the British on a tree beside the flowing waters of Gardharo stream. A pair of ‘khabris’ playing rats had disclosed Rooplo’s location and he was arrested while fetching water from a well or a spring. British authorities, having failed to persuade him with land and a life in peace, eventually hanged him for treason and the day, dear reader, was Aug 22nd, the same year of rebellion.
Now the local lore has more stories to tell, whereby one Uday Singh, son of Virawah warrior Lado Singh, upon hearing his fathers death at the hand of British, ditches the opium drenched life in Gujarat, travelling all the way to Nagarparkar to give battle to Tyrwhitt’s force. Such was the ferocity of the battle that our Turwutt had to flee to a tanner’s hut. Now our tanner, who was from Meghwar tribe hid Tyrwhitt under a pile of uncured cowhides. For my readers, interested in this story and more may find the book “Mithi, Whispers in the Sand” by Salman Rashid interesting.