The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate Read online

  Another reason why Indians never ventured out of the subcontinent was that geographically India is like a mammoth canyon, separated from the Eurasian landmass by the high mountains bordering it on the north, and from the rest of the world by the seas bordering its peninsula. This topography made it easy for invaders from the northern highlands to sweep down the mountains into India, but made it virtually impossible for Indians to clamber up the mountains and invade foreign lands. Nor could Indians in premodern times cross the seas to seek any major conquest, as the necessary seafaring facilities were not then available. An equally important reason—perhaps the most important reason—why Indians never ventured outside the subcontinent is that they were generally a rather torpid people, and did not have the energy or the spirit to go adventuring over the mountains or across the seas.

  TURKS, ACCORDING TO medieval Muslim chroniclers, suffered no notable military reverses in India, except once, in the first battle of Tarain in 1191. But was the conquest of India really all that easy for Turks? Our only sources of information on it are Muslim chroniclers, several of whom were the courtiers of the sultans about whom they wrote. Do their accounts present the true picture of what happened? The career prospects and the personal fortunes of these chroniclers depended on the sultans about whom they wrote, whom they could offend only at great personal risk. Says Barani, courtier-chronicler of Muhammad Tughluq: ‘We were traitors who were prepared to call black white … Avarice and the desire for worldly wealth led us into hypocrisy, and as we stood before the king … fear of our fleeting lives and equally fleeting wealth deterred us from speaking the truth before him.’

  Modern historians therefore have to approach the medieval chronicles with some scepticism, especially as the data in them are often confusing and sometimes contradictory. Besides, even where these reports seem absolutely factual, we have to note that their factuality is one-sided and partisan. From another perspective, the story they tell would probably have had a different nuance.

  We have no Indian accounts at all about what happened during the Turkish invasion of India, or about the history of the Delhi Sultanate. For instance, incredible though it might seem, there is no reference at all in any medieval Indian text about Mahmud Ghazni’s many devastating raids deep into India. In fact, there is virtually no mention at all in medieval Indian texts about any of the momentous political and cultural developments then taking place in India. Apparently Indian chroniclers considered those events as not worth recording. Instead they went on writing their inane romances. And that in itself is significant, as a reflection of the general Indian disconnect with mundane reality. Indians were great mythmakers, but not good chroniclers of history. As Al-Biruni, an eleventh century Ghaznavid intellectual notes, ‘Indians attach little importance to the sequence of events.’

  WITH THE ESTABLISHMENT of the Delhi Sultanate the political history of India once again acquired a dominant theme, seven centuries after the collapse of the Gupta Empire. Though there had been a few large and important kingdoms in India in the intervening period, none of them had the all-India prominence that the Gupta Empire had, or that the Delhi Sultanate came to have.

  The establishment of the Muslim empire in India had three distinct phases, each widely separated in time. It began with the Arab conquest of Sind in the early eighth century, followed nearly three centuries later by Mahmud Ghazni’s pillaging raids deep into India, and finally, yet two centuries later, by the invasion of India by Muhammad Ghuri and the establishment of the Delhi Sultanate.

  The first of these invasions, the Arab conquest of Sind, came, for some inexplicable reason, only at the very end of the Arab imperial expansion, even though Arabs, as seafaring traders, had been in close contact with India for many centuries even before the founding of Islam, and the prospect of pillaging India’s fabled riches, and of battling with India’s heathens, would have been irresistible lures for them. In fact, even when Arabs finally sent an army into India, it was not a wanton act by them, but was provoked by the collusion of the raja of Sind with the pirates who were harassing Arab ships in the Arabian Sea.

  The Arab army invading Sind was commanded by Muhammad Qasim, who was only seventeen years old then, but proved to be an exceptionally able general and a most sagacious administrator. He won most of the battles he fought, and, what is more important, won the hearts of the conquered people by his fair and generous treatment of them—by his ‘honesty, prudence, justice, equity, and generosity’, as Chach-nama, a contemporary Arab chronicle, states. And it was Qasim who introduced in India the practice of Muslim rulers treating the local people as zimmis, and allowing them, on the payment of jizya, the poll tax, to lead their traditional way of life without any interference.

  The Arab rule in Sind lasted three centuries, but all through its history it remained a minor, peripheral realm of little significance in the history of India or of Arabia. And the kingdom was finally wiped out, ironically, not by any Indian king, but by another Muslim invader, Mahmud Ghazni, a Turk.

  AFTER THE ARAB conquest of Sind, India had a respite from foreign invasions for nearly three centuries, till Mahmud Ghazni’s raids into India in the early eleventh century. Mahmud had, during the solemn ceremony of receiving the Caliphate honours on his accession to the throne of Ghazni, taken a vow to wage jihad, holy war, every year against the idolaters of India. He could not keep that vow to the letter, but he did lead more than a dozen campaigns into India during his thirty-two-year reign. The sultan had two motives in his Indian raids: to slaughter heathens and to gather plunder. He fought for god and mammon, but quite probably more for mammon than for god. These were however interconnected motives, each reinforcing and energising action in the other.

  Curiously, Mahmud, unlike most other invaders, had no hunger for land. Had he desired it, he could have easily annexed a good part of North India to his kingdom, but he did not have the patience for empire building. Except Punjab and Sind—the gateways to India, which he needed to keep open for his raids—Mahmud did not annex any territory in India.

  The final and decisive phase of the Muslim invasion of India was launched by Muhammad Ghuri, a late twelfth and early thirteenth century sultan of Ghazni, who was presumably inspired by what he had heard about the legendary exploits of Mahmud Ghazni in India. Muhammad’s raids into India were nowhere near as spectacular as those of Mahmud, but they had a far greater transformative effect on Indian history, as they led to the founding of the Delhi Sultanate, with which began an entirely new epoch in Indian history.

  The Delhi Sultanate was established in 1206, nearly six centuries after the founding of Islam, and it endured for 320 years, till 1526, when Babur invaded India and established the Mughal Empire. The history of the Sultanate is divided into five dynastic periods, and within each of these dynasties too there were several internal upheavals, assassinations of kings, and violent usurpations. It is on the whole quite a sordid story. Though there were a few kings of exceptional ability and achievements in the Sultanate, many of the sultans were worthless scamps. Some were barely sane. And some were blatant sexual perverts. The worst of these abhorrent sultans was Mubarak, Ala-ud-din Khalji’s successor, who, according to Barani, ‘cast aside all regard for decency, and presented himself [at the durbar] decked out in female trinkets and apparel,’ and he made his cronies scamper stark naked in the durbar hall, insult the assembled great nobles in foul language, and ‘defile and befoul their garments.’

  For all its flaws, the Delhi Sultanate had a few rare distinctions, such as having the only woman ever to sit on the throne of Delhi: Raziya. And she, despite the purdah restrictions that normally cloistered upper class Muslim women, ruled the empire with distinction for three years, but was then overthrown and killed by a band of hyper-orthodox nobles. ‘Sultan Raziya was a great monarch,’ comments medieval chronicler Siraj. ‘She was endowed with all the qualities befitting a king. But she was not of the right sex, and so in the estimation of men all her virtues were worthless.’

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nbsp; The Sultanate also had the rare distinction of having a king who voluntarily relinquished his throne while still in his youth and went into retirement. This was Alam Shah of the Sayyid dynasty, who then moved from Delhi to Budaun, a charming little town on the banks of Ganga, where he lived in blissful obscurity for thirty years, till his death, free of all the cares and tribulations that harry a crowned head.

  THE FIRST OF the five dynasties of the Delhi Sultanate was the Slave Dynasty. It was founded by Qutb-ud-din Aibak, Muhammad Ghuri’s viceroy in India, who set up the Indian territories of the Ghuri empire as an independent kingdom on the death of Muhammad. The dynasty he founded came to be known as the Slave Dynasty because its sultans were all manumitted slaves or their descendants. They were not however ordinary slaves, but royal slaves, like Mamluks of medieval Egypt, and they, far from being an underclass, constituted a politico-military aristocracy, who could aspire for the highest offices in the government, and even rise to be sultans, as indeed three of them did. It was not a disgrace but a distinction to be a royal slave.

  The Slave Dynasty ruled the Sultanate for 84 years, from 1206 to 1290, and it had ten sultans belonging to three different but related families. The second dynasty, that of Khaljis, was the shortest reigning dynasty of the Sultanate; it was in power for only 30 years, till 1320, and had six sultans. The third dynasty, that of Tughluqs, had the longest history of all the Delhi dynasties; it ruled for 94 years, till 1414, and had 11 sultans. The next dynasty, that of Sayyids, ruled for 37 years, till 1451, and had four sultans. The last dynasty, that of Lodis, had three sultans, and it endured for 75 years, till the Mughal invasion of 1526.

  The expansionist phase of the Sultanate history was the one and a quarter century period from its founding in the first decade of the thirteenth century to the second quarter of the fourteenth century. The empire was at its greatest territorial extent during the reign of Muhammad Tughluq, when it stretched over virtually the entire subcontinent, except over Kerala in the deep south, Kashmir in the far north, and a few pockets here and there. Curiously, the reign of Muhammad Tughluq, which marked the culmination of the territorial expansion of the Sultanate, also marked the beginning of its fragmentation.

  The greatest of the Delhi sultans was Ala-ud-din Khalji, the second ruler of the second dynasty of the Sultanate. He was illiterate—like Akbar, the great Mughal emperor—but was a brilliant, radical reformer. In that age of minimal governments, Ala-ud-din ran a maximal government. A totalitarian and exceptionally able ruler, he firmly controlled nearly every facet of life in his empire. Although he did all that no doubt primarily to quench his thirst for power, his rule was also most beneficial to his subjects, who lived in greater security and material comfort under him than under any other Delhi sultan. Ala-ud-din was an autocrat, but a benevolent autocrat.

  Ala-ud-din had to his credit the introduction of several daringly innovative and brilliantly successful administrative and economic reforms, some of which were many centuries ahead of his time, and were rather like those of a modern welfare state. The most remarkable aspect of his reign was his futuristic economic reforms, through which he firmly regulated every segment of the economy, particularly its market operations, by balancing the demand and supply of goods, and fixing their prices. Ala-ud-din backed up these market reforms by setting up an elaborate intelligence network, which enabled him to maintain total control over everything that happened in the empire. States Barani: ‘No one could stir without the sultan’s knowledge.’

  Another radical reformer of the Delhi Sultanate was Muhammad Tughluq, but while Ala-ud-din was successful in everything he did, Muhammad was a dismal failure in everything he did. Soon after his accession Muhammad conceived several fascinating political and socio-economic reforms, which—particularly the introduction of token currency—were, as ideas, quite sound, and would have been beneficial to the sultanate if they had been implemented efficiently. But they all failed miserably in execution, and produced results that were the opposite of what the sultan had intended. This was because Muhammad lacked the pragmatism, patience and perseverance needed to execute his schemes successfully. He was an obsessive daydreamer. And it was only in his daydreams that he was able to fulfil himself.

  The picture of Muhammad that emerges from medieval chronicles is of a psychotic Jekyll-and-Hyde personality, a bizarre blend of antithetical qualities, of good and evil, overweening arrogance and abject humility, murderous savagery and touching compassion. There was an element of revolting fiendishness in some of the punishments that he meted out. Thus when Gurshasp, his nephew, rose in revolt against him, not only was he flayed alive, but his flesh was cooked with rice and served to his wife and children. In another instance, when a pious and venerable Muslim described the sultan as a tyrant, he was forcibly fed human excrement, on the sultan’s orders.

  MUHAMMAD HAD NO sons, and so was succeeded by his cousin Firuz, and that marked an amazing transition in the history of the Sultanate, from hellish chaos to heavenly tranquillity. Muhammad and Firuz were entirely unlike each other in character, temperament and policies—Muhammad was an egomaniac, flighty and unpredictable, ever pursuing some chimerical goal or other, and given to savage violence; in contrast, Firuz was a stable, dependable ruler, with a good sense of what was viable and necessary, and was essentially a man of peace. While Muhammad wanted the world to adjust to him, Firuz adjusted himself to the world. And, more than anything else, Firuz was concerned with the stability of his empire and the welfare of its people, rather than with self-fulfilment. He was the right person in the right place at the right time.

  Firuz was the most humane of the Delhi sultans. He reversed the prevailing royal view that people should serve the king, and held that the king should serve the people. Public welfare, not personal fulfilment, was his objective. He was especially caring towards the lowly. The Delhi Sultanate under Firuz was the closest that any government in medieval India came to being a welfare state.

  The death of Firuz was followed by a period of political chaos, during which the Sultanate fragmented into a number of independent kingdoms, some of which had larger territory and greater power than the Sultanate. But the Sultanate, though considerably attenuated, endured for 114 years more, till the Mughal invasion. During this period the Sultanate was ruled by two successor dynasties, Sayyids and Lodis. The disintegration of the Sultanate continued under Sayyids, and by the end of their rule the kingdom was confined to just the city of Delhi and its neighbouring villages. As a common satirical jingle of the time had it,

  From Delhi to Palam

  Is the realm of Shah Alam.

  There was some revival of the fortunes of the kingdom under Lodis, but their history ended abruptly in 1526, when Babur invaded India and established the Mughal Empire. But its last ruler, Ibrahim, had the distinction of being the only sultan of Delhi to die in battle, despite the innumerable battles they fought all through their over-three-century-long history.

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  One Land, Two Worlds

  The political history of the Delhi Sultanate was quite a roller-coaster ride. There were spectacular highs and lows in it, but hardly any progress. It is on the whole a sordid tale of treachery, rebellions, usurpations and fiendish reprisals. The sultans were particularly savage in dealing with their refractory or rebellious subjects, having them disembowelled or flayed alive, thrown alive into blazing fire, fed to wild animals, and thrown under elephants’ feet to be trampled to death. Such bestial punishments were meted out even to the rebellious members of the royal family.

  ‘Amputation of hands and feet, ears and noses, tearing out the eyes, pouring molten led into the throat, crushing the bones of the hand and feet with mallets, burning the body with fire, driving iron nails into the hands, feet, and bosom, cutting the sinews, sawing men asunder—these and many similar tortures were practised’ by sultans against criminals and rebels, notes Sultan Firuz Tughluq in his memoirs. Suspects were invariably tortured to extract confession from them, and tortured
so savagely that they often confessed even to crimes they had not committed, preferring death to torture. ‘People consider death a lighter affliction than torture,’ notes Battuta, a fourteenth century Moorish traveller in India.

  The punitive action of kings against rebels often involved mass slaughter, with no distinction made between the innocent and the guilty, for the objective of kings was more to terrorise people and keep them submissive, than merely to punish the guilty. Thus Balban once, in retaliation for the contumacy of some villagers, ordered his soldiers to burn down their villages and ‘slay every man there … The blood of the rioters ran in streams, heaps of the slain were to be seen near every village and jungle, and the stench of the dead reached as far as Ganga,’ reports Barani.

  Predictably, the conduct of the Sultanate army was most savage in enemy territory, and entailed the slaughter of thousands and thousands of people, both soldiers and common people. Thus, according to Mughal chronicler Ferishta, Bahmani sultan Ahmad Shah during his invasion of Vijayanagar ‘overran the open country, and wherever he went, he put to death men, women and children, without mercy … Wherever the number of the slain amounted to 20,000, he halted for three days, and made a festival in celebration of the bloody event.’

  The ruthless suppression of adversaries and criminals was an essential survival requirement for rulers nearly everywhere in the medieval world. In India this was so with rajas as well as sultans, though Hindu kings, ruling over their own people, were not normally as virulent as Muslim rulers, conquerors ruling over an alien people.

  THE TENDENCY OF Muslim rulers in India to be oppressive towards their Hindu subjects was heightened by the fact that most of their values and practices were diametrically opposite to those of Hindus. Muslim society, unlike the caste segmented Hindu society, was fundamentally egalitarian, and had no birth determined status divisions in it, so anyone could rise to any position, depending solely on his ability. Even a slave could rise to be a king, as indeed some of them did in the Delhi Sultanate.