On Galib, on his Birthday.

Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan was born on 27 December 1797.He is popularly known by his pen name 'Galib'. The title famous speech by J.N.Nehru upon Gandhi ji's death "The Light has gone out" was plagiarized from what Galib had written on the aftermath of revolt of 1857 about live in Delhi, by the same title, albeit in Urdu.
William Darymple in his book 'The last Mughal' states:

Ghalib was among those very few Muslims left in the city. A stroke of luck had protected the poet when so many of his friends and patrons were killed or driven out. For his muhalla, Ballimaran, contained the hakim and several senior courtiers of the loyalist Maharaja of Patiala, who had sent troops and supplies to the British on the Ridge, and who now arranged for guards to make sure that looters did not attack the street. Thanks to the Maharaja’s guards, Ghalib was one of the only citizens of Delhi to remain unmolested in his house, and almost the only member of the courtly elite to survive the fall of Delhi with his property, such as it was, intact. (Just to add to W.Darymple, Maharaja Patiala even asked Galib to move to Patiala,’ I would not because I am told youdo not get Old Joe whiskey there?’,  Galib had replied- SM)

Even so, it was a desperate time. Ghalib wrote in Dastanbuy of how he and his neighbours had shut the gate of the muhalla and piled stones against it so as to barricade themselves in as all around them ‘mass arrests, assassinations and slaughter’ imprisoned or killed scores of his friends. Meanwhile, within the barricades, Ghalib’s neighbours waited nervously, hoping their meagre stocks of food and water would last until peace returned. In his diary, the poet scribbled down his worries as to how he could survive when his city had been utterly destroyed around him: There is neither merchant nor buyer; there is no seller of wheat from whom we can buy flour, nor is there a washerman to whom we can give our soiled garments; there is no barber to trim hair, or sweeper to clean our floors. It was impossible for us to leave the lane for water or to get flour. Gradually, whatever provisions we had in our houses were consumed. Although we used the water with great care, not a single drop remained in cup or jar and we were hungry and thirsty throughout the days and nights. Beyond, mass slaughter was rampant, and the streets were filled with horrors … We are like prisoners: nobody comes to visit us and we receive no news. We cannot leave the lane so we are unable to see what is happening with our own eyes. Then one day clouds appeared and it rained. We tied up a sheet in our courtyard and placed our jars beneath it and in this way we collected water

… Still the two [adopted] children whom I have raised with such

indulgence ask me to give them fruit, milk and sweets, and I cannot satisfy their wishes …
Finally, on 5 October, three weeks after the British entered

through Kashmiri Gate, British troops climbed into the muhalla and hauled Ghalib off to Colonel Burn to be interrogated. Always a dapper man, Ghalib made sure he was wearing his best Turkish-style headdress for the interview. The Colonel looked at this strange fashion and asked in broken Urdu, ‘Well? You Muslim?’ ‘Half,’ said Ghalib. ‘What does that mean?’ asked the Colonel. ‘I drink wine,’ said Ghalib, ‘but I don’t eat pork.’ The Colonel laughed, and Ghalib then showed him the letter which he had received from the Minister for India [sic] in acknowledgement of the ode to Her Majesty the Queen which Ghalib has sent. The Colonel said, ‘After the victory of government forces why did you not present yourself at the Ridge?’ Ghalib replied, ‘My rank required that I should have four palanquin bearers, but all four of them ran away and left me, so I could not come.’
According to Ghalib’s own account of the meeting, he also added, ‘I am old and crippled and deaf, and as unfit to confer with as I am to fight. I do pray for your success, and have done all along; but I could do that from here.’ Colonel Burn let him go.