<p>Your columnist’s grandfather, whilst serving as Finance Minister of the Kalat State between 1945 and 1947, which comprised all of present day Balochistan, recorded in his diaries meeting several individuals who claimed to be of Maratha lineage. These were descendants of warriors who served in the Peshwas cavalry. Their journey to the North West began in 1761. After the Marathas’ devastating defeat at Panipat, thousands were taken prisoner by Ahmad Shah Abdali and many found themselves in Balochistan, then within Abdali’s Afghan dominions. Abdali, keen to offload responsibility, handed them to Mir Nasir Khan Noori, the Khan of Kalat. The new arrivals were divided and resettled, giving rise to clans that survive to this day. They include Bugti Maratha, Marri Maratha and others. </p><p>Over time the captives converted to Islam, intermarried with locals and adopted Baloch tribal ways. Yet remnants of their Marathi inheritance continue to endure. Weddings still echo with rituals such as the ‘<em>haldi’</em> ceremony and the crossing of a rice bowl at the bride’s new home. Mothers are “Aai” not “Amma” and the memory of Shivaji and the Peshwas, if muted, has not disappeared. Even surnames such as Shahu and Peshwani continue to exist. Their reputation as brave fighters also lingered. In the 18th century the Marathas had been soldiers of fortune. In Balochistan they were viewed much the same. Under the Khan of Kalat and later his successors, many served in the armed forces of the princely state. In the troubled frontier politics of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Kalat’s Marathas served in the state cavalry preserving the warrior tradition long after their forebears had been brought as prisoners of war. </p><p>Independence and Partition altered their world again. As Pakistan forcefully absorbed Balochistan in 1948, against the wishes of the Khan, the Marathas remained behind. By then they were farmers, small traders, and men of service rather than a distinct martial caste. Whilst, some joined the army and civil service, many became schoolteachers, bureaucrats or professionals. The severer realities of Balochistan – its poor infrastructure, tribal conflicts and insurgent violence – shaped their prospects, but they largely adapted to their changing circumstances. Numbers are hard to pin down, but estimates suggest several hundred thousand people in the province trace lineage, directly or indirectly, to those 18th-century captives. They are seamlessly integrated in the tribal communities of Balochistan, rarely distinguished by outsiders, but within their society the label “Maratha” is still invoked with justifiable pride. </p><p>That pride extends across borders. In 2017 Maratha organisations in Balochistan issued public statements supporting protests in Maharashtra, including the Maratha Kranti Morcha, calling for quotas and social justice. Community leaders such as Wadera Din Muhammad Marhatta openly proclaim solidarity with kinsmen in India. Social media links keep those ties alive, even if travel and direct contact remain constrained. Cultural memory is another bond. Their folklore celebrates Shivaji as a just king, festivals and family customs still bear Maharashtrian imprints. Though Islam is their faith, their identity overlaps two worlds – loyal to Baloch tribal obligations, but emotionally tethered to Maharashtra, the land of their forefathers. </p><p>Yet they are not political separatists. Unlike the Baloch nationalist insurgents, the Marathas of Balochistan have sought integration. Their political role is local, tied to land and kinship rather than ideology. In tribal <em>jirgas</em> they wield influence, but as a community they have not articulated a distinct political programme. In a part of the world where history is reduced to lines on maps, the Marathas of Balochistan are a reminder that defeat need not mean extinction. They live and farm, and recognise their identity – descendants of warriors who still carry echoes of Poona and Satara in the deserts of Dera Bugti. </p>
<p>Your columnist’s grandfather, whilst serving as Finance Minister of the Kalat State between 1945 and 1947, which comprised all of present day Balochistan, recorded in his diaries meeting several individuals who claimed to be of Maratha lineage. These were descendants of warriors who served in the Peshwas cavalry. Their journey to the North West began in 1761. After the Marathas’ devastating defeat at Panipat, thousands were taken prisoner by Ahmad Shah Abdali and many found themselves in Balochistan, then within Abdali’s Afghan dominions. Abdali, keen to offload responsibility, handed them to Mir Nasir Khan Noori, the Khan of Kalat. The new arrivals were divided and resettled, giving rise to clans that survive to this day. They include Bugti Maratha, Marri Maratha and others. </p><p>Over time the captives converted to Islam, intermarried with locals and adopted Baloch tribal ways. Yet remnants of their Marathi inheritance continue to endure. Weddings still echo with rituals such as the ‘<em>haldi’</em> ceremony and the crossing of a rice bowl at the bride’s new home. Mothers are “Aai” not “Amma” and the memory of Shivaji and the Peshwas, if muted, has not disappeared. Even surnames such as Shahu and Peshwani continue to exist. Their reputation as brave fighters also lingered. In the 18th century the Marathas had been soldiers of fortune. In Balochistan they were viewed much the same. Under the Khan of Kalat and later his successors, many served in the armed forces of the princely state. In the troubled frontier politics of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Kalat’s Marathas served in the state cavalry preserving the warrior tradition long after their forebears had been brought as prisoners of war. </p><p>Independence and Partition altered their world again. As Pakistan forcefully absorbed Balochistan in 1948, against the wishes of the Khan, the Marathas remained behind. By then they were farmers, small traders, and men of service rather than a distinct martial caste. Whilst, some joined the army and civil service, many became schoolteachers, bureaucrats or professionals. The severer realities of Balochistan – its poor infrastructure, tribal conflicts and insurgent violence – shaped their prospects, but they largely adapted to their changing circumstances. Numbers are hard to pin down, but estimates suggest several hundred thousand people in the province trace lineage, directly or indirectly, to those 18th-century captives. They are seamlessly integrated in the tribal communities of Balochistan, rarely distinguished by outsiders, but within their society the label “Maratha” is still invoked with justifiable pride. </p><p>That pride extends across borders. In 2017 Maratha organisations in Balochistan issued public statements supporting protests in Maharashtra, including the Maratha Kranti Morcha, calling for quotas and social justice. Community leaders such as Wadera Din Muhammad Marhatta openly proclaim solidarity with kinsmen in India. Social media links keep those ties alive, even if travel and direct contact remain constrained. Cultural memory is another bond. Their folklore celebrates Shivaji as a just king, festivals and family customs still bear Maharashtrian imprints. Though Islam is their faith, their identity overlaps two worlds – loyal to Baloch tribal obligations, but emotionally tethered to Maharashtra, the land of their forefathers. </p><p>Yet they are not political separatists. Unlike the Baloch nationalist insurgents, the Marathas of Balochistan have sought integration. Their political role is local, tied to land and kinship rather than ideology. In tribal <em>jirgas</em> they wield influence, but as a community they have not articulated a distinct political programme. In a part of the world where history is reduced to lines on maps, the Marathas of Balochistan are a reminder that defeat need not mean extinction. They live and farm, and recognise their identity – descendants of warriors who still carry echoes of Poona and Satara in the deserts of Dera Bugti. </p>
