Out of India

The Maharaja and the Cooch Behar Double

“Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?”

William Blake. 1757–1827


A pulsating cacophony of cicadas greeted the procession as it snaked its way through the towering grasslands. Their incessant beat rose and fell to some strange rhythm known only to themselves and seemed to drive the summer sun ever faster towards its zenith. A small reed warbler flitted from stem to stem keeping a safe distance ahead of the lead elephant, while a marsh harrier floated high above surveying the verdant scene below. As the day stiffened into mid-morning, dark round patches of sweat were already beginning to form on Nripendra’s light brown shooting jacket. The soft foot falls of Ram Pershad gently parted the high grass, causing grasshoppers and a myriad of other insects to arc overhead with an impertinent buzz. The maharaja’s hunting party had just crossed the Raidak River and in places the grass was so high that it brushed the framework of the howdah; even the elephants got a little nervous when it was this high and the mahouts certainly didn’t enjoy ‘driving blind’ as it were. With the grass this long he had just begun to think he may have left it too late in the season for his little foray, when suddenly they broke through into a more open area.



It had taken 3 hours at top speed to reach the village locale and he was hopeful of a good result after a run of decidedly bad luck in recent days. Just yesterday the luncheon elephant had brought good ‘khubber’ from a local villager that a large male had taken several of their cattle over the last few months. After a couple of sloppy beats in previous days he was determined to see the mahouts stayed at the top of their game for this one. He had given firm instructions to the line elephants and flanking guns to keep their close boxlike formation all the way down, hopefully giving ‘stripes’ little chance of slipping unnoticed back through the line. Using his years of experience and a certain well honed intuition, he posted the stop howdahs at the intervals he thought best complimented the natural funneling effect of the landscape at hand. He would have liked another twenty or so elephants to beat a patch of this size successfully but he would make the most of the fifty he had none the less – ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ as his old British school master used to say.


The sounds of the line approaching, some 300 yards distant, focused his attention. He took a quick glance across the stops and saw that everyone was ready. He could now clearly hear the intermittent calls of the mahouts and shikaris being carried down on the light breeze as they battled to keep the line well formed and water tight. Suddenly the trunk of his mount Ram Pershad shot up in alarm testing the wind, and he took a few nervous steps back despite the mahout’s attempts to convince him otherwise. It was about then that he noticed Lord Hamilton leaning out of his howdah, gesticulating towards a patch of grass out in front and slightly to his left. He eventually located the spot in question and could now see the grass moving expectantly.

The honeyed tones of the stock shimmered in the sun as he slowly drew the rifle up under his arm in anticipation. Time seemed to drip like treacle as his hand caressed the slender neck of the pistol grip, his thumb intuitively nestling behind the safety. The sounds around him fell away into muted submission as every fiber in his body focused in on the movement up ahead. He had barely released the safety on his Holland double rifle when the grass exploded with a terrifying roar and a 500 pound thunderbolt of feline fury streaked towards his mount. In three enormous bounds the black and orange blur closed the forty yard gap and with an almighty fourth leap sailed athletically into the air and deposited himself onto head of Ram Pershad. With a paw like a hand full of cut-throat razors he proceeded to swipe savagely towards the mahout. Luckily the front sight of Nripendra’s .465 Nitro Express had been tracking the beast from the moment he had emerged from the green morass and he proceeded to give him a right and a left in quick succession, putting pay to his murderous intentions. It was all over as quick as it had started and it took a few minutes before everyone’s heart beat returned to its normal cadence. Shortly thereafter the photographer set up his equipment and exposed a plate or two for posterity and they went ahead and pegged him out. Between the pegs he measured 10 feet 2 inches overall, 7 feet in the body and ran to 476lbs with 26 inch biceps and 20 inch forearms. A large specimen indeed and rather easily the largest tiger he’d shot to date, but more importantly, he’d turned out to be a splendid fighter and given them such wonderful sport.


His mighty tusker Ram Pershad had suffered a nasty gash above the eye but the wide-eyed and now distinctly paler mahout was thankfully unhurt. What a grand story it would make that night when the men donned their smoking jackets and retired for their post dinner drinks and cigars. All in all it had been a splendid days hunting and a trophy he was certain would be worthy of Mr. Ward’s record book. He also hadn’t failed to notice that whenever the Maharani was in attendance she seemed to bring the luck with her. He must make a point of bringing her along more often, he thought……..



When I first saw this particular rifle I could tell from its elegant lines and refined character that it was something special even from 20 feet away. That’s to be expected I suppose being a Holland and all. But what I didn’t expect was that hidden beneath the obvious tactile charms of this svelte Holland and Holland double rifle lay a burning heart of the most fantastic provenance you could ever desire. What pulled me in first and started the cogs turning was the incredibly quaint name of Cooch Behar, very intriguing to say the least. Then when I heard that a Maharaja was involved I was instantly captivated. Every collector knows that feeling when they find that special something that speaks to their heart and it’s this more than anything else that makes collecting such an alluring pastime. This wasn’t even my rifle, I was a mere bystander, but I was still spellbound none the less. My imagination was aflame and I determined to find out more about its history. You see it’s not everyday that a rifle such as this comes along. One that in an immediate sense is a highly refined and functioning marvel of engineering, and could be respected for that alone. But is at the same time, for those willing to dig a little deeper, a tangible, shall we say ‘living’ history lesson of those halcyon days of big game hunting and firearms manufacture that took place around 1900. Only with a rifle such as this could you take a journey back in time to consort with king and beast in some distant exotic kingdom without even leaving the comfort of your easy chair.


But enough of that and what about this mysterious and fabled land of ‘Cooch Behar’. Well as you may have gathered from the title of the article it’s in India but it’s not the India we know today but the glorious and golden India of the British Raj; about as far away from anywhere then as it still is now. Back then the Kingdom of Cooch Behar was a mecca for the well heeled ‘pukka sahibs’ (meaning –‘true gentleman’) of the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, who were looking for that distinctly colonial brand of high adventure, namely Tiger hunting. With Calcutta being the traditional capital of the British Raj it was the hub for everything going in and out of India, including traveling sportsman. From there it was an easy rail journey inland to the beautiful northern climes of Cooch Behar, and this easy access along with its pro-British ruling monarch was the key to its popularity for the visiting sportsman during that period. In today’s terms it could best be described as an exclusive getaway for the rich and famous. But unlike these days, you needed more than just a fat wallet to secure a hunt in Cooch Behar. To tick that box on your dance card you needed connections or at least a glowing recommendation of some sort because your hunting guide and host would be none other than the Maharaja himself.

With its temperate climate and abundance of game, the modern district of Cooch Behar shares an international border with Bangladesh in the south. In the north it’s hemmed in by the beautiful tea growing mountain districts of Jalpaiguri and Darjeeling, and it also shares a state border with Assam in the East. A large part of Cooch Behar’s environs consist of a geographical region known as the ‘Duars’ which are essentially the vast flood plains and the foothills of the eastern Himalayas. Not surprisingly ‘Duars’ translates as ‘doors’ and describes the area as being the door or gateway to the mountain Kingdom of Butan. In essence it’s a landscape of scrubby forests and tall grasslands crisscrossed by numerous rivers and swamps, all supplied by the copious runoff of the immense Himalayan range. This all combines to produce a luxuriant ecosystem supporting an abundance of big game most notably Bengal tiger, Asian rhino, buffalo, bison, bear, and sambar. This also seemed to be about the same order of importance with which they were hunted, with tiger, rhino and buffalo being the most sought after trophies, and as far as that goes I suppose not much has changed.



This may be a good place to explain, at least to us English speakers, the rather quaint name of Cooch Behar. Like many Indian words that were ‘anglicised’ by the British such as Bombay (Mumbai), and Calcutta (Kolkatta), Cooch Behar was also modified somewhat. Its true spelling and subsequent meaning was in fact ‘Koch Bihar’ in which ‘koch’ is the tribal name and ‘bihar’ means to travel or roam; effectively translating to the land through which the ‘koch’ tribe roams, or loosely Koch Kingdom. The kingdom stretched back to the 1500’s and had a long history of warring with neighboring mogul tribes but had so far managed to retain its autonomy. This all changed when the mountain kingdom of Bhutan attacked in 1772 occupying the capital Cooch Behar Township. The then Maharaja of Cooch Behar in desperation signed over control of all his lands to the British East India Company in exchange for military assistance in ousting the Bhutanese, which they subsequently did. Thus Cooch Behar became yet another protectorate of the British Raj and remained a princely state until the mid 20th century. India gained her independence in 1947 and a few years later Cooch Behar was assimilated into greater India in 1949 as a province of the state of West Bengal, thus drawing the final curtain on the Koch Kingdom. There you’ll find it today still as lush and verdant as ever but lacking the royal prestige and exclusivity that it once enjoyed. Nowadays it’s not unlike any other part of India where the infrastructure runs a never ending race with the burgeoning population. As with other parts of India tourism plays an ever increasing role in the region with tours of our man Nripendra’s royal palace and elephant back tours through the numerous tiger and rhino reserves being amongst the most popular activities for visiting tourists.


A wondrous place it may be but what of the man himself, this Maharaja of Cooch Behar. Quite simply he was a man of boundless ability and limitless energy and a glowing example of the best a man could be in that era. Of course it helps if money is no object, and that is certainly the case here, but our Nripendra was no fat and lazy ‘Henry the Eighth’ stereotype, that’s for sure. Col. HH Maharaja Sir Nripendra Narayan (1862-1911) was the 21st Maharaja of Cooch Behar. Like so many royals his journey begins when he ascends the throne as a ten month old child after the death of his father. Until he comes of age the region is administered for him by a commissioner appointed by the British Governor General of India by the name of Colonel Hawton. The fatherly Col. Hawton sees to it that the young Maharaja is well educated, firstly in India and then by private tutor in England. At the end of these studies in England and by now a young man, he tours Europe visiting with European royalty and then returns to India to complete his studies in law at Presidency College Calcutta. Apart from being endowed with a powerful intellect the young Nripendra was also a gifted athlete. Among his many sporting accomplishments he was a tennis player of international renown, a keen cricketer and an avid horseman rarely if ever losing a horse race. This is all aside from being a crack shot and of course a hunter par excellence. Like any good colonial he served his mother country and was attached to the 6th King Edward's Own Lancers in the British Army rising to the rank of Hon.Lieut-Colonel. He served with distinction in the North West Frontier campaign and the Tirah expedition in the late1890’s, being mentioned in dispatches and decorated several times.

Back at home as the ruling monarch, he was highly regarded by his subjects and was known as a kind hearted and noble king. He also became known as the great modernizer of Cooch Behar State and most of the famous landmarks you can see today in Cooch Behar were built during his reign. He embarked on a civic construction program never before seen, building roads, schools, hospitals, administration buildings, palaces and temples. He outlawed slavery in 1884, reformed the courts, administration, revenue collection and the police and military forces of the state. On a personal level he broke tradition by marrying outside his caste when he married Suniti Devi the daughter of a prominent religious leader. In a culture of arranged marriages and royal alliances, to marry someone of a lower caste and for a quaint notion called ‘love’ was unheard of. As a married couple they continued to flout established custom by spending long periods in England and Europe and raising their four children in the western fashion.

Nripendra obviously had many passions but Tiger hunting and hunting in general seemed to have been one of his principal pastimes. This is evidenced by the amount of time he took out of each year to go hunting, usually in the order of 2-3 months. Tiger hunting in that era epitomized the very essence of the gallant sportsman and the upwardly mobile visiting sportsman it became a symbol of social standing. It was obvious to everyone that it was an activity that was only affordable to the upper crust who had the money and more importantly, the connections to make it a reality. As a result the Maharaja’s hunting parties usually consisted of the cream of British and European nobility, military brass and upper echelon government officials. Over the years the Maharaja’s hunting parties had entertained the likes of Lord Hamilton, Lord Curzon, General Auchinlech, Count of Turin, Earl of Minto, Duke Miliano, Marquis Pizzardi, Sir Benjamin Simpson, and Neville Chamberlain and the list goes on. You may also be surprised to learn their wives were quite often in on the action as well, taking part in the shooting with as much gusto as the men. Despite all this hob knobbing you’ll be happy to know that his regular hunting parties also included childhood friends, sons, brothers and other relatives, not least of which was his wife the Maharani herself. And lets not forget that the Maharaja, being the premier hunting sportsman that he was, did indeed shoot some record trophies in his time and he held several records in the now world famous book ‘Records of Big Game’ by Rowland Ward. With the hunting opportunities open to him and the time and the resources to exploit them it he was almost bound to bag some of the ‘biggest and baddest’ critters on the Indian sub continent sooner or later.



Now that I’ve populated your mind with the people and places we should really get back to the hub that this enchanting tale revolves around, which is of course the rifle itself. Technically speaking it is a Holland and Holland Royal Hammerless double rifle chambered in 375 x 2.5” Flanged Nitro Express and is a non-ejector model with 26” barrels and tips the scales at a pleasant 9lbs 8oz. The chambering is the rimmed straight sided 375 x 2.5” Flanged Nitro cartridge which traditionally pushes a 270gn bullet to about 2000fps generating approximately 2330ft/lbs of muzzle energy. Introduced in 1899 this cartridge predates its larger and better known sibling the 375 H&H Magnum by a good decade and did its part to help popularise the .375 (3/8”) bore diameter for Holland and Holland. This rifle was regulated for the standard 270gn loading but was actually proofed for the higher pressures (17tons/sq-in) generated by the 320gn loading and is stamped on the barrel flats to this effect. Another peculiarity is that it has left hand twist rifling, something not often seen in this day and age. These could have been custom features ordered by the Maharaja but we can only speculate. In his battery of rifles this rifle would probably have been his light double and used for general shooting such as sambar, barasingha, pigs and perhaps leopard. His larger caliber express rifles in the order of .450, .465 and even 500 Nitro seemed to have been mainly for tiger and buffalo. The heavy 4 bore and 8 bore paradox guns were normally reserved for rhino, wild elephant and the occasional troublesome tiger or buff.


The archives of Holland and Holland in London tell us that the rifle was commissioned by special order and completed in 1908 for the Maharaja of Cooch Behar. Why did he buy this rifle? Maybe he just liked buying new rifles and I can relate to that, or maybe like many aging shooters he’d had enough of the big kicking shoulder mounted artillery of his youth and desired a more sedate but still capable caliber; certainly we’ll never know. From what we do know of Nripendra’s life we would assume that the rifle probably never saw a lot of use. As it turns out, only a few short years later in 1911 he fell ill and traveled to England for treatment. There he subsequently died at Bexhill-on-Sea, Sussex on the18th September 1911 aged 49. We know the bulk of his shooting career was already behind him when he purchased this rifle because he published a book in 1908 titled ’Thirty-Seven Years of Big Game Shooting in Cooch Behar, the Duars and Assam’ which has also been republished under the title ‘Big Game Shooting In Eastern and North Eastern India’ . Original copies of this book are fetching fearful prices at the antique book sellers but despite its monetary value it rates awfully low in literary terms. It’s is definitely no Peter Capstick novel and is a painfully dry read. It lacks the exciting descriptive style of writing we are accustomed to these days and is more of a rough diary of events. Having said that it’s still a good record of the people, places and hunting that took place and I think we are still fortunate to have such a document of that unique period in history.



It is quite astonishing to imagine the journey this rifle has taken from the hands of royalty in an exotic and distant land nearly 100 years ago, to the modest abode of what they might have regarded as a commoner in a sleepy little suburb in Brisbane, Australia; if nothing else, it’s certainly a testament to the modern egalitarian world we now live in. And I can’t help laughing every time my friend says, in reference to his Holland’s “If these guns could talk, they wouldn’t talk to you” alluding to the fact that with their royal lineage they would probably give ordinary folk like us the royal snub. But royalty aside, there’s no disputing that this double rifle is a classic symbol of the golden age of big game hunting, and a tangible reminder of those days long past. Just bearing the name Holland and Holland who are arguably the greatest proponents of the art of the double rifle, both then and now, you would think would be kudos enough. But when you learn of its provenance and read the history, you come away with a greater appreciation of its value, one that goes deeper than just bloodlines. The uninitiated may say it’s just another firearm, nothing more than an aesthetically pleasing union of wood and metal. And what a blaspheming notion that would be to those of us that worship at the altar of the double gun. With 2008 marking its 100th anniversary it seems only fitting to pay homage to such a distinguished old English gentleman such as this. And when, on rare occasions, the rifle is lifted from its dark confinement and brought out into the light you can almost feel the spirits of those halcyon days being roused bleary-eyed from their slumber. And with the hollow ‘tonk’ of cartridges dropping ever so pleasingly into the chambers and the action crisply clicking shut, you could be forgiven for thinking those ghosts are looming nearer, looking on with gladdened hearts and wishing for those golden days again, and just one last hurrah.