From Wilds to Settlement: The Forgotten History of Reclaiming the Sundarbans

When we think of the Sundarbans today, we envision a deep mangrove wilderness, an impenetrable maze of respiratory roots, the majestic roam of the Royal Bengal Tiger, and an enchanting network of rivers and creeks. But hidden behind this mysterious facade lies a different history—a tale of struggle, where a few dared to dream of carving settlements out of the jungle, driven by the British East India Company’s thirst for revenue and the power struggles of local zamindars. Let us journey back to a time when this protected forest was an ‘ownerless’ land, the subject of a silent, relentless contest for control.

The Backdrop: Clive’s Grant and an Unclaimed Forest

Our story begins nearly 250 years ago. Following the Battle of Plassey (1757), the political map of Bengal was changing rapidly. The fall of Nawab Siraj-ud-Daulah, orchestrated by Robert Clive, led to the installation of Mir Jafar as a puppet ruler. As a reward for his assistance, on December 20, 1757, Mir Jafar gifted Clive the zamindari (land rights) of Calcutta and its 24 adjoining parganas (revenue units). This was the birth of the ’24 Parganas’ district, an entity that had not existed before.

Clive’s vast 882-square-mile estate included areas from Calcutta and Bongaon-Basirhat down to Kulpi, but it did not include any part of the Sundarbans. At that time, the Sundarbans was an independent, inaccessible, and virtually ownerless territory. Ambitious zamindars from the 24 Parganas, Nadia, Khulna, and Bakherganj were extending their influence into this jungle at will. They employed poor peasants to clear the forest and create arable land, but none of the resulting revenue reached the government treasury. The East India Company saw a vast, promising land slipping through its fingers, and they were unwilling to be deprived of the profits from this expanding frontier. It was against this backdrop that the Company-appointed Collector General of the 24 Parganas, Mr. Claude Russell, entered the scene.

Phase One: The ‘Patitabad-i Mahals’ and the Dawn of Legal Reclamation

Between 1770 and 1773, Claude Russell took a groundbreaking step. He understood that rather than trying to stop this illegal reclamation, it was wiser to legalize it and bring it under the government’s revenue system. He began leasing out the fallow, mangrove-covered frontier lands of the Sundarbans to local talukdars (minor landlords) and zamindars under specific conditions. These new estates, carved from the forest, were named ‘Patitabad-i Mahals’. The name itself reveals its origin—transforming patit (fallow or unused) land into productive agricultural territory.

However, this initiative was far from smooth. Widespread fraud began with the measurement of the land. The talukdars, wanting to pay as little revenue as possible, used their own appointed surveyors (amins) to under-report the area of their holdings. Multiple surveys conducted by the Company failed to produce reliable results. Finally, in 1790, under the Decennial Settlement, some of these cultivated lands were brought into the formal system, but it would take many more years for the Company to establish full authority over the Sundarbans.

After a long legal battle, the British government finally passed Regulation III of 1828. This was a landmark law that, for the first time, clearly defined the northern boundary of the Sundarbans and unequivocally declared the forest as government property. This act effectively curbed the unchecked expansion of the zamindars.

These Patitabad-i Mahals, stretching from Salt Lake to Kulpi, represented the first phase of Sundarbans reclamation under British rule. Areas like Shobhanagar, Harimal, Gangadharpur, and Kashinagar—many of which still exist today—were established during this period. The most fertile of these lands, known as Katkina Taluks, yielded higher revenues. Thus, the once-impenetrable jungle slowly began to transform into settled land.

Phase Two: A Humane Administrator’s Dream—Tilman Henckell

Not all Company officials were solely focused on revenue. One of the most brilliant and exceptional chapters in the history of Sundarbans reclamation was written by the Judge and Magistrate of Jessore, Mr. Tilman Henckell. His work, from 1783 to 1789, was a complete departure from the prevailing norms. He was an administrator, a reformer, and a true humanitarian.

Henckell’s plan was revolutionary. He bypassed the middlemen—the zamindars and talukdars—and leased plots of land directly to the poor peasants, or ryots. These peasant-centric settlements came to be known as ‘Henckell’s Taluks’. His objectives were noble and twofold:

  1. Public Welfare: To free poor farmers from the exploitation and control of zamindars, giving them the dignity of independent cultivators.
  2. Famine Prevention: To generate revenue from unproductive land while simultaneously increasing rice production to build a food reserve for the future. The memory of the devastating Great Bengal Famine of 1770 was still fresh in his mind.

Henckell’s methods were profoundly humane. He knew that clearing massive tree stumps from saline soil to grow crops in the first three years was nearly impossible. Therefore, he exempted the settlers from all revenue demands for the first three years. To support them during this period, he encouraged them to utilize other forest resources. The timber from cleared jungles, along with honey, wax, and shells, became their source of livelihood. He even established three centers or markets for the settlers’ convenience: Henckellganj (now Hingalganj) on the banks of the Kalindi river, Chandkhali on the Kopotakkho, and Kachua on the Baleshwar.

Henckell’s welfare work was not limited to land distribution. He was a true reformer:

  • He organized mobile boat patrols to suppress the pirates who terrorized the Sundarbans.
  • He passed laws to stop the forced labor imposed by the Raymangal Salt Agency, whose agents (malangis) trapped poor peasants in debt bondage.
  • He protected local weavers from exploitation by Company employees and curtailed the power of the Nawab’s military officers to establish good governance.

Remarkably, according to historian J. Westland’s report, Henckell performed these additional duties without any extra salary, often using his own funds to help the poor settlers. Westland aptly described Henckell’s initiative as a form of “benevolent colonialism.” He was an administrator ahead of his time, who prioritized service over mere governance.

The Tragic End of a Noble Dream

Unfortunately, the vision of a man like Henckell could not last long. His path was fraught with challenges. His primary obstacle was the constant boundary disputes with neighboring zamindars, who claimed all fallow land down to the sea as their ancestral property. They refused to clarify their boundaries and often claimed lands reclaimed by Henckell by presenting old documents (hastabud). To resolve this, Henckell created a demarcation line using bamboo poles along the northern border of the Sundarbans, a line famously known in history as ‘Henckell’s Banshgari’ (Henckell’s Bamboo Demarcation).

Secondly, the initial expenditure of his project far exceeded its income. The noble purpose with which he began was deemed insignificant in the face of the Company’s rigid profit-and-loss calculations. After Henckell left Jessore in September 1789, his successor, Mr. Rooke, found the project financially unviable and plagued by disputes. Consequently, on August 20, 1790, Henckell’s plan was officially abandoned. The settlements he had created were gradually encroached upon and lost.

Henckell had dreamed of reclaiming 600,000 bighas of land but succeeded with only 43,716. His noble initiative was crushed by bureaucratic complexities and the conspiracies of vested interests.

Conclusion: Echoes of History in the Sundarbans

The early history of the Sundarbans reclamation is not just a story of land acquisition; it is a history of a clash between two different philosophies. On one side was Claude Russell’s revenue-centric, pragmatic approach, which brought the Sundarbans under a legal framework of government control. On the other was Tilman Henckell’s humane and peasant-friendly dream, which withered away because it was born ahead of its time.

Many names of the Patitabad-i Mahals or Henckell’s Taluks may have been lost or changed over time. But the settlements of today’s North and South 24 Parganas districts, adjoining the Sundarbans, are built upon the blood, sweat, and struggles of those first reclaimers. When we visit places like Hingalganj or Sandeshkhali, we rarely remember that the shadows of men like Claude Russell and Tilman Henckell loom behind these names.

The history of the Sundarbans is therefore not just a story of tigers, deer, and mangroves. Deep within its soil lies the forgotten chapter of clearing a jungle to build a home—a complex saga of exploitation and empathy, which silently continues to shape the identity of this region today

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