If you’ve spent enough time in Hyderabad, you’ve probably heard someone scoff, “Apne aap ko Turram Khan samajhta hai?”, “Do you think you’re Turram Khan?” It’s a phrase often tossed around to tease someone who’s showing off. Few, however, stop to ask: Who exactly was this Turram Khan?
The answer is not some filmi hero or fictional daredevil, but a flesh-and-blood man named Turrebaz Khan, a fearless Afghan Rohilla from Begum Bazar. In the summer of 1857, when the flames of revolt were licking the edges of the British Empire in India, he led a daring attack on the heart of colonial power in Hyderabad. In books and archival records, he appears not as a boastful braggart, but as a revolutionary who defied both the British and the Nizam himself.
Hyderabad, 1857: A City on the Brink
By July 1857, news of the mutiny in Meerut had reached the Deccan. Across Hyderabad, whispers grew louder, sermons in mosques urged resistance, pamphlets called for the faithful to rise, and the British Residency at Koti watched the city with wary eyes.
The Nizam, Nasir-ud-Dawlah, was a loyal British ally. His prime minister, Salar Jung, assured the Resident, Colonel Davidson, that there was “no fear of unrest” and that no one had dared call for jihad during Friday prayers on 17 July 1857. Yet by dusk, that confidence would shatter.
The Lion Steps Forward
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a green flag fluttered above Mecca Masjid. Out of Begum Bazar emerged Turrebaz Khan, joined by Maulana Alauddin and a force of some 5,000, Rohillas, Arabs, students, and ordinary townsfolk. Their mission: to storm the British Residency and free Jamadar Cheeda Khan, a soldier who had refused to fight for the British in Delhi and been jailed for it.
With little more than swords, muskets, and sticks, they marched through the narrow streets towards the Residency. By early evening, the gates were under siege. Shots rang out, walls were breached, and chaos filled the air.
Six Hours of Defiance
The battle raged deep into the night. Turrebaz Khan’s men poured into the Residency grounds, some scaling the walls under cover of darkness. But the British were ready. Twelve artillery guns, over a thousand cavalry sabres, and more than a thousand infantry soldiers rained fire on the rebels.
By four in the morning, the uprising was crushed. Many lay dead. Maulana Alauddin was captured and exiled to the Andamans. Turrebaz Khan, however, vanished into the shadows.
Betrayal and Escape
The British, furious at the attack, put a bounty of Rs 5,000 on his head, a small fortune at the time. Betrayal was never far away. Turab Ali, a minister in the Nizam’s court, revealed Turrebaz Khan’s hideout. He was arrested and sentenced to the dreaded Kala Pani, transportation to the penal colony in the Andaman Islands.
But on 18 January 1859, just before his sentence could begin, Turrebaz Khan escaped. For days he moved through forests, rallying sympathisers, refusing to bow to the British.
The Last Stand at Toopran
His freedom was short-lived. Mirza Qurban Ali Baig, a local Talukdar, lured him into a trap at Toopran. Surrounded by troops, Turrebaz Khan fought until a bullet cut him down. The British dragged his body back to Hyderabad and, in a final act of colonial theatre, hanged it in public as a warning.
Yet such brutality only cemented his place in local legend.
From Legend to Language
Over time, Turrebaz Khan’s name transformed from a rallying cry into an everyday idiom. In Hyderabad, calling someone a “Turram Khan” might be sarcastic now, but it carries the echo of a man who truly was fearless. In the words of historians, his defiance during the 1857 revolt “put Hyderabad on the map of India’s first war of independence.”
Today, a road near the University College for Women in Koti bears his name, Turrebaz Khan Road, a quiet tribute to a man who shook the British Empire, if only for a night.
The Man Behind the Phrase
Turrebaz Khan’s life is a reminder that history’s bravest are not always the ones in our textbooks. In archival accounts, he is described as “the head of the Rohillas… a prisoner with a wooden collar round his neck”, a symbol of resistance even in chains.
So, the next time someone calls you a “Turram Khan”, remember: it’s not just a joke. It’s a nod to a man who once dared to stand against the mightiest empire of his age, and never bowed his head.
The answer is not some filmi hero or fictional daredevil, but a flesh-and-blood man named Turrebaz Khan, a fearless Afghan Rohilla from Begum Bazar. In the summer of 1857, when the flames of revolt were licking the edges of the British Empire in India, he led a daring attack on the heart of colonial power in Hyderabad. In books and archival records, he appears not as a boastful braggart, but as a revolutionary who defied both the British and the Nizam himself.
Hyderabad, 1857: A City on the Brink
By July 1857, news of the mutiny in Meerut had reached the Deccan. Across Hyderabad, whispers grew louder, sermons in mosques urged resistance, pamphlets called for the faithful to rise, and the British Residency at Koti watched the city with wary eyes.
The Nizam, Nasir-ud-Dawlah, was a loyal British ally. His prime minister, Salar Jung, assured the Resident, Colonel Davidson, that there was “no fear of unrest” and that no one had dared call for jihad during Friday prayers on 17 July 1857. Yet by dusk, that confidence would shatter.
The Lion Steps Forward
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a green flag fluttered above Mecca Masjid. Out of Begum Bazar emerged Turrebaz Khan, joined by Maulana Alauddin and a force of some 5,000, Rohillas, Arabs, students, and ordinary townsfolk. Their mission: to storm the British Residency and free Jamadar Cheeda Khan, a soldier who had refused to fight for the British in Delhi and been jailed for it.
With little more than swords, muskets, and sticks, they marched through the narrow streets towards the Residency. By early evening, the gates were under siege. Shots rang out, walls were breached, and chaos filled the air.
Six Hours of Defiance
The battle raged deep into the night. Turrebaz Khan’s men poured into the Residency grounds, some scaling the walls under cover of darkness. But the British were ready. Twelve artillery guns, over a thousand cavalry sabres, and more than a thousand infantry soldiers rained fire on the rebels.
By four in the morning, the uprising was crushed. Many lay dead. Maulana Alauddin was captured and exiled to the Andamans. Turrebaz Khan, however, vanished into the shadows.
Betrayal and Escape
The British, furious at the attack, put a bounty of Rs 5,000 on his head, a small fortune at the time. Betrayal was never far away. Turab Ali, a minister in the Nizam’s court, revealed Turrebaz Khan’s hideout. He was arrested and sentenced to the dreaded Kala Pani, transportation to the penal colony in the Andaman Islands.
But on 18 January 1859, just before his sentence could begin, Turrebaz Khan escaped. For days he moved through forests, rallying sympathisers, refusing to bow to the British.
The Last Stand at Toopran
His freedom was short-lived. Mirza Qurban Ali Baig, a local Talukdar, lured him into a trap at Toopran. Surrounded by troops, Turrebaz Khan fought until a bullet cut him down. The British dragged his body back to Hyderabad and, in a final act of colonial theatre, hanged it in public as a warning.
Yet such brutality only cemented his place in local legend.
From Legend to Language
Over time, Turrebaz Khan’s name transformed from a rallying cry into an everyday idiom. In Hyderabad, calling someone a “Turram Khan” might be sarcastic now, but it carries the echo of a man who truly was fearless. In the words of historians, his defiance during the 1857 revolt “put Hyderabad on the map of India’s first war of independence.”
Today, a road near the University College for Women in Koti bears his name, Turrebaz Khan Road, a quiet tribute to a man who shook the British Empire, if only for a night.
The Man Behind the Phrase
Turrebaz Khan’s life is a reminder that history’s bravest are not always the ones in our textbooks. In archival accounts, he is described as “the head of the Rohillas… a prisoner with a wooden collar round his neck”, a symbol of resistance even in chains.
So, the next time someone calls you a “Turram Khan”, remember: it’s not just a joke. It’s a nod to a man who once dared to stand against the mightiest empire of his age, and never bowed his head.
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