Thug Behram: The man who killed 931 people

The caravan pressed on through the silent night, surrounded by the symphony of crickets and the rhythmic chime of bullock bells. The weariness of the journey clung to the travellers, their bodies aching and eyelids heavy with the weight of exhaustion. Eight hours on the road, yet the men remained vigilant, knowing the importance of staying alert.

Amidst the nocturnal serenade of crickets, a jackal's cry shattered the peace, sending ripples of tension through the group. Torches were raised, casting eerie shadows on the forest, and the child nestled in a cart trembled. A mother's comforting words sought to quell the fear, her assurance weaving a sense of security in the flickering torchlight.

Yet, the night held more than just the symphony of nature. The leader's abrupt halt and raised hand signalled an impending danger. Whispered exchanges and urgent commands permeated the air as the caravan prepared for an unforeseen threat. Two men armed themselves with daggers, prepared for the rumoured danger that lurked on the roads—dacoits, notorious for robbing and killing travellers.

However, the ominous anticipation transformed into a grim reality as the caravan stumbled upon a wounded man, Sukhram. Left for dead by ruthless dacoits, he pleaded for water and recounted the harrowing tale of the gang's brutality. The air grew heavy with sorrow as Sukhram revealed the identity of the perpetrator—Thag Behram, a name that sent shivers down the spines of the travellers. The mere mention of it brought tears to the eyes of the women within the caravan, and the gravity of the situation hung in the night air like a haunting melody, resonating with fear and uncertainty.

"How did you escape his wrath? He has claimed the lives of everyone he encounters," questioned a young man with a mix of disbelief and fear in his eyes.

Sukhram rose slowly, steadying himself with a hand on the young man's shoulder. With a chilling calmness, he replied, "How can Behram extinguish his own flame?" A sudden jackal's scream erupted from him, followed by a burst of maniacal laughter that echoed through the night. From the shadows of the forest emerged a group of menacing figures—bearded, red-eyed, adorned with turbans.

Without warning, these ruthless dacoits descended upon the caravan and its occupants with a blood-curdling cry. The travellers stood no chance against the ferocity of Thug Behram's gang. In a matter of minutes, the once lively caravan fell silent, now transformed into a graveyard with 15 lifeless bodies strewn across the ground—men, women, and children, none spared.

Surprisingly, not a drop of blood stained the earth. No knives or swords were employed to inflict gruesome wounds. Instead, the victims met their demise through garroting, a method that left no visible traces of violence. The merciless gang, after robbing the deceased, dug makeshift graves and disposed of the bodies, erasing any evidence of the grisly encounter within hours. It was as if the caravan had vanished into thin air.

Thuggees, derived from the Sanskrit for "concealment," formed an organized group of assassins, akin to an early mafia, active in India from the 13th to the 19th centuries. As members of a fanatical religious sect, they conducted ritualistic assassinations in the name of the Hindu Goddess Kali. Known as Thugs, the term entered English during British rule in India.

Their method involved gaining trust among travellers, then surprising them at night, employing silent strangulation with handkerchiefs or nooses to leave no blood or require special weapons. The Thuggees, displaying high teamwork and coordination, robbed and buried their victims. Specialized roles within the gang included charming, lookout duties, and the act of killing. Estimates suggest they caused around two million deaths, but the true origin remains uncertain due to a lack of reliable historical records.

And the most dreaded of the Thuggees was Thug Behram, a name synonymous with terror and death. With an astounding tally of 931 kills, he is the most dreaded serial killer in the world.

The year was 1765 when Behram was born in a village that was a few miles away from modern-day Jabalpur in Madhya Pradesh. At the age of 25, Behram was introduced to the Thuggee cult by his best friend ‘Firangi.’

In the heart of the forest, 40 formidable men encircled an ancient idol of Goddess Kali. Among them stood a 25-year-old Behram, guided by the Ustad. Declaring their allegiance to the goddess, the Ustad emphasized their purpose—to satiate Kali's thirst for blood.

Before acceptance into the group, Behram faced a test. A man, bound and brought forward, became the chosen sacrifice. As the Ustad handed Behram a yellow handkerchief, the atmosphere tensed. With the crowd chanting, Behram, initially hesitant, tightened the makeshift garrote around the pleading man's throat.

The Ustad's encouragement echoed, and Behram entered a trance, unlocking a mental door that would never close. The grip tightened, and the victim's struggle for air escalated until calm and silence prevailed. Behram, no longer trembling, stood over the lifeless body, his newfound resolve apparent.

The Ustad embraced Behram, acknowledging the difficulty of the first sacrifice. With assurance, he declared that Kali would grant the strength to persevere. And this was the beginning of the greatest murder spree!

Behram, proving himself a worthy son of Goddess Kali, rose in infamy. Recognizing the inefficiency of conventional methods, he revealed a deadly innovation to Syed, the 'firangi.' Behram unveiled a yellow cummerbund with a concealed coin, his secret weapon for swift kills.

Behram looked at his lieutenant and said – “what if I told you that I could kill a person in less than ten seconds?”

“Impossible!! It takes at least a minute to kill… and it takes three of us to hold one person down,” Syed said from experience.

And that is when Behram showed him something that would help him go into the record books as the World’s Most Dangerous Serial Killer.

“I’ve been working on something,” Behram said as he took out his yellow
cummerbund. And as he opened it, Syed noticed a coin sewn into the middle of it.

“What is that coin doing there?” Syed asked

“That is my weapon!” Behram revealed. “When you put the rumaal around their necks – the coin presses down on Adam’s apple and makes it easier to block off the air. And it becomes faster to kill!”

The 90-gram, 2.5-inch diameter medallion, mistaken for a coin, bore the figurehead of Italian painter Antonio Canova on one side and featured his painting 'The Three Graces' on the other. Today, that infamous rumaal can be seen online – preserved in the private museum of an unknown collector.

Thugs from across the region and the country wanted to be in Behram’s team. Behram and Syed were now leading a gang of over two hundred thugs and massacring, or in their eyes, sacrificing people by the dozen. The fear of these dacoits spread across India. In the Northern states, they were called ‘Thugs’. In the Jabbalpore area, they were called ‘Phansigars’ or stranglers. In Tamil, they were called – ‘Ari Tulucar’ or Muslim Stranglers; in Telegu – ‘Warlu Wahndlu’ or ‘Warlu Vayshay Wahndlu’ – People who use the noose. It seemed that these dacoits had taken the country hostage with fear.

Not only did they attack locals, but the thugs had a liking towards attacking the Britishers. They slaughtered the ‘goras’ mercilessly. ‘They kill us and loot our country, and so we kill them and rob them back!’ Behram encouraged his team.

To combat the menace, the Britishers formed the Thug Police. This police force was given carte-blanche in dealing with the thuggees. Captain William Henry Sleeman was appointed as The Superintendent of Thug Police. Sleeman was pushing 50 when he was called on and given this assignment. Sleeman made up in his enthusiasm what he didn’t have in age. Behram and Firangee had heard about this ‘gora’ who had vowed to take them down. But as long as Maa Bhawani showered her blessings on them – they knew no one could harm them.

Sleeman, committed to completing the task at hand, persevered in hunting down the thugs. Under his leadership, the British Army and Colonial Government, once fearful of the thugs, gained renewed courage. Sleeman, during this pursuit, sent over 1400 thugs to the gallows. Now, karma had turned the tables, and the once-feared thugs were now trembling in fear of Sleeman. 

Fueled by an unyielding determination, Sleeman embarked on a relentless quest to hunt down thugs scattered across India. After an arduous 11-year pursuit, he finally cornered the elusive Behram, thanks to an unexpected ally—Firangee.

Sleeman hunted down Firangee’s family and held his family hostage, and asked Firangee to surrender. 

"Sleeman, you think you can stop us?" sneered Firangee, his eyes ablaze with defiance.

"Your family's fate rests in your hands, Firangee," warned Sleeman, a steely gaze fixed on his captive.

Sleeman pressed Firangee for information on Behram's whereabouts. He tortured Firangee and thrashed him. 

"Tell me where Behram is hiding, and perhaps your family will be spared," Sleeman declared, the room pulsating with tension.

Firangee, desperate to shield his innocent family from impending doom, pleaded for clemency. "Please, Saab, they know nothing of this life. Spare them!"

Sensing vulnerability, Sleeman skillfully presented an alternative, creating a semblance of alliance. "There's a way to save your family, Firangee. Help me find Behram, and we can ensure their safety."

Faced with a glimmer of hope, Firangee reluctantly agreed to anything.

In a strategic twist, Sleeman secured Firangee's cooperation, transforming him into a pivotal informant—what was known in those times as "King's Evidence." 

Firangee, caught in a delicate dance of fear and duty, discreetly disclosed Behram's habitual haunt to Sleeman—the very whorehouse which Behram frequented to meet his lady love Mumtaz. 

Behram, a seventy-five-year-old with an unquenchable fire in his loins, held court with Mumtaz, a courtesan ensnared in his web of gifts and stolen riches. Once, he adorned her with a gold ring, its precious stone catching the lamplight, sparking Mumtaz's curiosity.

“You don’t look like a rich merchant or a zamindar – and yet you give me this expensive ring. Where did you get it?” Mumtaz's inquiry hung in the air, the ring a symbol of forbidden opulence. Behram, torn between instinct and desire, chose to seduce rather than silence.

“How does it matter where I got it from? What matters is whom I got it for!” Behram's charm masked the turbulence within, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

Suddenly there was a crash which came from the lower floors. Behram, attuned to danger, rushed to the wrap-around balcony to see a posse of sepoys scouring rooms in determined pursuit.

The realization hit Behram like a thunderclap—he had scant moments to elude capture. Racing to the back staircase, he aimed for the stables, where his trusted steed awaited. Every step strained his ageing legs against the urgency of time. Reaching the stables, he fumbled with the knots, eager to escape the encroaching threat.

Suddenly, a voice, unexpected and chilling, sliced through the tension. "Behram, where are you running off to?" The words echoed in the stable, punctuated by the presence of a white man and a dozen sepoys, their rifles menacingly aimed at the once-elusive King of Thugs.

In that pivotal moment, the infamous Behram Jemedar found himself ensnared in the tightening web of justice—a thrilling climax to a dangerous dance between desire and retribution. Sleeman had cleverly created chaos and fear in the whorehouse to smoke out Behram. Sleeman waited for Behram in the stables, knowing fully well that Behram would try and escape. 

Behram confessed to having throttled 931 people and witnessed the murder of 956. Behram was convicted without a trial and was hung in a private ceremony. His corpse was put on display for the public as an example to dissuade others from joining the thuggee cult. Sleeman was awarded the Order of the Bath for his work and chivalry in 1856. He would go on to write a book about the six true stories of feral children raised by wolves in India. The book would become the inspiration for Rudyard Kipling’s Mowgli and The Jungle Book. 

After successfully completing his mission, Sleeman left for Britain, But he never reached home. He died on a ship near Sri Lanka and was buried at sea.

Behram and Sleeman were like two faces of a coin. One killed monstrously, and the other brought one of the bloodiest periods of Indian history to an end.