Panipat: The Fatal Miscalculation That Undid an Empire

The Third Battle of Panipat, fought on January 14, 1761, was not merely a clash between two great powers—it was a cataclysm that reshaped the subcontinent’s destiny. On one side stood the formidable Maratha Confederacy, commanded by Sadashivrao Bhau, with an army of 50,000 cavalry and 15,000 infantry. Opposing them was the Durrani Empire under Ahmad Shah Abdali, fielding 60,000 cavalry and 40,000 infantry. But numbers alone did not decide the outcome. The Marathas had vanquished larger forces in the past. What doomed them at Panipat was geography, logistics, and strategic oversight.

Panipat, lying deep in the northern plains, was friendly terrain for Abdali. He had access to local allies, supply chains, and fresh reinforcements from the northwest frontier. The Marathas, in contrast, were stranded in hostile territory. From the moment they arrived on the outskirts of Panipat, their supply lines were compromised. Local merchants refused to trade. Provisions grew scarce. Despite this, Sadashivrao pressed forward—believing that a decisive victory would open the road to Delhi and secure access to loyal allies across Central India.

But Abdali refused to oblige. He entrenched his forces within a fortified camp, refusing to be lured into open battle. From November 1760 onwards, both armies dug into a siege-like standoff. Skirmishes and sorties became routine, with both sides testing each other’s defences. In early December, a contingent of Abdali’s Rohilla allies attempted to storm the Maratha camp. The attack failed. Over 3,000 Rohilla troops perished, and their commander, Najib ad-Dawlah, barely escaped. Yet this tactical success for the Marathas brought no strategic reprieve. Among their own dead was Balwant Rao Mehendale, a key leader. Worse, the broader crisis of supplies remained unresolved.

Abdali quickly adjusted his strategy. Realizing the futility of direct confrontation, he tightened the noose around the Maratha camp. With ruthless efficiency, his allies severed all routes through which the Marathas could receive food, fodder, and ammunition. The Durrani siege lasted over three harrowing months. With each passing day, the condition in the Maratha camp deteriorated—food ran out, horses starved, diseases spread, and morale withered.

On December 17, Govind Pant Bundela, a senior Maratha officer, was slain while attempting to deliver supplies. Caravans sent from Central India were intercepted and destroyed. Although the Marathas launched daring assaults to disrupt Abdali’s camp—inflicting casualties and briefly unsettling their opponent—Abdali remained composed. He kept his army restrained, refusing to engage, knowing that time itself would be his most lethal weapon.

By early January, the Maratha army was in a state of collapse. Meanwhile, Abdali’s forces, bolstered by fresh reinforcements from Afghanistan, were in better shape than ever. The Marathas were unaware of this crucial development. On January 13, in an atmosphere of desperation, Sadashivrao convened his war council. The decision was unanimous: the Marathas would break the siege and launch an all-out assault the following day. It was a final gamble—better to die in battle than starve in camp.

The Marathas charged at dawn on January 14, 1761. Gaunt, weary, and depleted, they fought with the ferocity of men who knew the stakes. For hours, the outcome hung in the balance. Abdali, rattled, was forced to commit his reserves. Then came the slaughter. Tens of thousands perished. Abdali’s losses exceeded 20,000—nearly a third of his force—but the Maratha army was annihilated. Sadashivrao and Vishwasrao, heir to the Peshwa throne, were both killed. When the news reached Pune, the Peshwa Nana Saheb is said to have been overcome by grief. He died just months later, on June 23.

It was a calamity not only of numbers but of planning. The Marathas, despite their martial prowess and imperial expanse, had chosen the wrong battlefield. Panipat was a logistical trap. Sadashivrao had failed to anticipate that Abdali, a seasoned commander, would resort to siege tactics instead of immediate engagement. Crucially, the Maratha army was burdened by nearly 100,000 civilians—including pilgrims and families of soldiers—who had accompanied them north. These non-combatants became victims of one of the most horrific massacres in Indian history. For two days, Abdali’s forces butchered the survivors, turning Panipat into a field of blood and ashes.

Yet the Maratha spirit proved resilient. By 1770, barely a decade after the disaster, they had reconstituted their strength. In 1772, they seized Delhi and installed Shah Alam II as a puppet emperor. Their resurgence culminated in the First Anglo-Maratha War (1775–1782), which ended in a Maratha victory and reasserted their dominance over vast swathes of India. For nearly another half-century, they remained the preeminent power on the subcontinent—until their eventual defeat in the Third Anglo-Maratha War in 1818.

Panipat remains a defining episode in Indian history—a moment when tactical brilliance, logistical foresight, and geopolitical awareness could have altered the fate of an empire. Instead, a proud army, caught in a place it could not sustain, was consumed by starvation, miscalculation, and the cold precision of an adversary who knew how to wait.