The Terror of Kings

At the birth of Man Singh, a son of the proud Thakore clan in India's northern Agra district, a Brahman priest predicted that he would one day grow up to "become a terror to kings." But as a boy Man Singh was remarkable only for his mild and conscientious disposition. He took no part or interest in the traditional blood feuds between Brahman and Thakore that raged constantly in the Rajput countryside west of the Taj Mahal. He clothed himself in the handspun cloth of humility known as Khadi to show his allegiance to Gandhi, and in hawk-nosed, dignified manhood, he became one of the most respected members of the local government.

Woman of Low Repute. In 1931, however, Man Singh fell into a dispute with the same prophetic Brahman priest, over a property line that separated their two estates. In the midst of the dispute, the priest saw fit to establish a low-caste mistress in his house. The upright Singh, married and the father of children, was outraged. He charged the Brahman with polluting the neighborhood and demanded that the priest get rid of his girl friend. The priest refused; angry words flew; other Brahmans and other Thakores joined the ruckus. Before it was over, the priest and three of his relatives lay dead.

As a result, Man Singh, the proud and the upright, was sent off to jail for five years.

Man Singh came back from jail to find himself in a hostile world. His property was gone. His sons had fled to escape the law, and the Brahmans crowed mercilessly over his downfall. Swearing eternal vengeance on the priest's family, Man Singh renounced Gandhi, gave his new allegiance to Kali, the goddess of vengeance, and fled to the hills to join his sons.

Man of Some Honor. The history of northern India is studded with the names of notorious outlaw dacoits who roam the hills in the name of Kali, robbing the rich, comforting the poor, and in general spreading terror and rough justice. No dacoit in modern times ever became so feared or respected as Man Singh in the years that followed his great oath of vengeance. Villages over an area of 8,000 square miles learned to tremble at news that his gang was near. Few moneylenders dared call in the police when Man Singh sent them the chopped-off finger of a kidnaped relative demanding ransom for the rest of him, for the dacoit's punishment of informers was swift and bloody. But Man Singh, for all his legendary ruthlessness, was still a man of some honor who was always generous to the poor and considerate of women. After killing a policeman in line of duty, he would often pay for a fine funeral and settle a generous sum on the officer's widow.

Of late years, Man Singh has returned to his old preoccupation with religious matters. He used much of his ill-won gains to erect temples in the valleys of Chambal and Betwa, to the goddess Kali and to Siva, the lord of destruction. He began appearing in the saffron robe of a priest, usually carrying prayer beads. But in one respect he remained relentless: he had vowed to kill every male member of the hated Brahman priest's family, and kill them he did, one by one, even though they tried to escape by going 650 miles away to Bombay.

Three weeks ago, as the 4,000-odd policemen assigned to track him down were combing the wild hills in a desperate last attempt to bring him to justice, Man Singh's men made a swift raid on a village and shot dead the Brahman priest's only surviving relative. At last the dacoit had fulfilled his vow to Kali.

Last week as the monsoon began blowing through India to make the jungle tracks impassable to all but panthers and dacoits, the 18-year hunt was once again suspended and the 4,000 policemen called off. In the hills of northern India, Man Singh, terror of kings and favored of Kali, still reigned supreme.

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