The month of September has a mixed bag of fortunes in the historical context for the erstwhile state of J&K. This month had ominous consequences for it when the plans for the final stages of annexing this largest princely state neared their completion in Pakistan in 1947; and also because September had the good fortune of witnessing the birth of its protector 131 years back on 23 September 1895. On 23 September 2026, J&K will remember Maharaja Hari Singh on his 131st birth anniversary.
The largest congregation of his supporters will be on Tawi Bridge on the river Tawi in Jammu. The YRS ( Yuva Rajput Sabha) of Jammu will take out the usual procession around the city in its traditional attire, with their headgear robed in Saffron pagri. A surfeit of garlands, speeches, commemorations and familiar references will be made with regard to the ‘instrument of accession ‘.But perhaps the most meaningful tribute to the last Dogra Maharaja would be to ask a more uncomfortable question—‘What did Maharaja Hari Singh understand about governance that we seem to have forgotten?
He was a Maharaja, born into privilege and trained to rule. Yet his enduring legacy lies not in the palace he occupied, but in the idea that power carries an obligation. For the Maharaja, the state was not merely an instrument of power or authority, but a responsibility towards his subjects who had reposed unflinching faith and trust in his governance. And judged by that principle, the Maharaja was far more than the monarch described in conventional political narratives.
Having inherited a complex , geographically vast and socially diverse state ,Jammu, Kashmir, Ladakh, Gilgit Baltisthan and the frontier regions were not merely territories on a map. They were stamps bearing cartographic, linguistic and demographic imprints & challenges which to this day have been a Gordian’s knot for India to unknot. Representing a jigsaw puzzle consisting of diverse communities, languages, faiths, cultures, religions and political aspirations, J&K posed and still poses one of the biggest challenges, as mentioned above, for all of these facets to fall in one place in order to call itself a meaningful part of this sub-continent of ours.
Governing such a state more than a century ago required something more than royal authority. It demanded bounden duty with little leeway for any slip-up in governance. His reign witnessed reforms in education, administration, social practices and governance. He was one of the first few Maharajas of princely India to have started primary education and acted against child marriage, a scourge that still rears its head from time to time in present-day India.
Having opened the doors of his state’s temples to the downtrodden and to those who had for centuries been excluded from the abode of the Gods, the Maharaja took the battle straight into the domain of dogmatic and Hindu hardliners who were not too pleased with the ruler’s actions. He, being one of the most progressive rulers of princely India, introduced a constitutional framework in 1939, defining the relationship between the ruler, executive, legislature and the judiciary. This concept, being the keel of any democratic dispensation, was very deftly handled by the Maharaja, unlike his contemporaries during the British rule.
The above-mentioned gestures were not mere one-off moves of the Maharaja, but revealed something more important about his understanding of kingship; i.e. tradition did not necessarily mean stagnation. A ruler could remain rooted in civilisational values while embracing modern institutions. This is where the idea of ‘Raj Dharma’ became relevant and personified in the Maharaja’s persona. ‘Raj Dharma ’, in its deepest sense, does not mean religious rule. It means the dharma of the ruler—the obligation to protect, administer fairly, uphold order and work for the welfare of the people. The ruler may possess power, but he does not possess the people, the most important component that drives his power.
That distinction is crucial. For the simple reason that Hari Singh’s life also demonstrated the stark reality —‘history is rarely black and white. He was not a flawless democrat cum ruler despite his stated intent of being one. And his state was certainly not a modern liberal democracy. Political participation remained restricted, and his administration faced serious criticism and political opposition. The agitation of the 1930s, the ‘Glancy Commission’ and the growing political movement in Kashmir reflected deep tensions within his rule.
To romanticise him would therefore be as intellectually dishonest as to demonise him. But to oppose his reforms and his conception of responsibility would be equally wrong. The real tragedy is that Maharaja’s legacy has too often been reduced to one date—26 October 1947. The instrument of accession was undoubtedly a defining decision that was again mired in controversy by the detractors of the ruler.
In fact, the seminal book ‘Integration of Indian States’ on such matters, penned by none other than the then states secretary cum legal advisor to Lord Mountbatten VP Menon, has very categorically recorded that the Maharaja had, in July 1947, only approached the power centres at Delhi with the merger proposal of J&K with the dominion of India; should such a situation arise. But was kept on the tenterhooks for reasons best known to the leaders of that time. And perhaps that is precisely where we need to rediscover him.
His dilemma in 1947 was not simply about choosing between two dominions. He was confronted with the survival of his state, the security of his subjects, and the collapse of an old political order. Whatever criticisms may be levelled against him and his political calculations, the final decision had consequences that continue to shape the Indian subcontinent even today.
In ancient Indian political thought, the ruler’s legitimacy was inseparable from the welfare of the people. The famous ideal of ‘Raja Praja Hitaya’ –the ruler working for the welfare of his subjects –was not supposed to be poetry for inscriptions. It was a standard against which power was to be judged.
Maharaja Hari Singh’s life offers precisely such a standard. Which Indian Maharaja, after the transfer of power in 1947, had to leave his own home state merely after 2 years to be banished to Mumbai on the exhortations of the then HM Sardar Patel, Nehru and Sheikh Mohammed Abdullah; only to let his former state to be governed as per the wishes of the former trio? Not even one, except for the ruler of J&K.
After 131 years since his birth, perhaps the most befitting tribute to Maharaja Hari Singh is not to praise him more loudly, but to govern more responsibly. If Raj Dharma was expected of Maharaja, why should less be expected of those who govern in the name of the people?’
(The Author is a retired army officer and a regular scribe of Rising Kashmir. He can be approached on his email: [email protected])
