Like other Britons in colonial India, Sir WilliamSleeman had a poor opinion of the traditional holymen who still formed an important part of Indiansociety in the nineteenth century. Reflecting hiswritings on the suppression of the Thugs that wouldmake him famous, Sleeman declared that, “There ishardly any species of crime that is not throughoutIndia perpetrated by men in the disguise of thesereligious mendicants; and almost all such mendicantsare really men in disguise”.1 None of these holymen were considered more dubious – moresuperstitious and reactionary – than the dervishesand faqīrs. In popular Indian usagethe terms darwīsh andfaqīr referred to a class ofMuslim holy men who were considered to possess arange of miraculous powers, powers which served todemonstrate their proximity to God; and so in turnto underwrite their considerable authority.2 Formany British officials, it was this authority thatstood at the heart of what they saw as thefaqīr problem. As the rumoursthat surrounded the various ‘mutinies’ of thenineteenth century demonstrate,faqīr s were seen as theperpetual ringleaders of rebellion and sedition.Nowhere were these concerns more insistent than inthe circles of India's colonial armies, which morethan any other aspect of colonial society relied onloyalty to a formalised and rational chain ofcommand. Yet in spite (and in some ways because) ofthese fears, the commanders of the various armiesunder British command in India were anxious todemonstrate their respect for the autonomy of thereligious rights of the Indian soldier. Through thecourse of the nineteenth and early twentiethcentury, the Islam of ‘Jack Sepoy’ or the Indiansoldier fell in between this tension of covertsuspicion and official respect, and in differentways the careers of a series of Muslim holy menattached to the Muslim soldiers were shaped by thistension. Over the following pages, this essayexamines the careers of three faqīrs connected to the Hyderabad Contingent, the armyunder British command in the nominally independentprincely state of Hyderabad in South India, betterknown as the Nizam's State. Looking out from thisprincely corner of Britain's ‘informal empire’, theessay uses a number of forgotten small-town texts inUrdu to begin to reconstruct the religious historyof the Indian soldier from the inside, as it were,and so to create an ethnohistory of Islam in thecolonial armies of the British Empire.3