The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate (20 page)

Mubarak’s ‘passion and rashness carried him so far that he raised the youth to the office of wazir, and he was so doting that he could never endure his absence even for a moment,’ continues Barani. Once, according to Barani, when Khusrav was returning to Delhi after a military campaign in peninsular India, the sultan suffered such acute pangs of separation that he ‘sent relays of bearers with a litter to bring him with all haste from Devagiri [to Delhi],’ covering a distance of over 1100 kilometres in seven days. And another time, again according to Barani, when some royal officers warned the sultan that Khusrav was plotting a rebellion, ‘fate so blinded the sultan that he would not believe [the charge], but grew angry with the accusers, [some of whom were blinded or imprisoned, and some degraded or stripped of their offices]. Whoever … testified to the treachery of Khusrav Khan received condign punishment, and was imprisoned or banished.’

KHUSRAV’S POSITION AT the court thus became unassailable. But despite all the favours shown to him by the sultan, Khusrav seems to have despised him. According to Barani, Khusrav ‘had often thought of cutting down the sultan with his sword when they were alone together.’ He had, during his peninsular campaign, evidently formulated a secret plan to usurp the throne, and on his return to Delhi persuaded Mubarak to allow him to raise a personal army from men of his own tribe. Something was clearly afoot, but Mubarak, blinded by
his infatuation, saw nothing amiss. Khusrav in fact further persuaded the sultan to give him the keys of a palace gate, on the pretext that he needed it to allow his friends and relatives to come into the palace to visit him at night. When one of the nobles cautioned Mubarak against allowing Khusrav’s armed men to enter the palace at night, the sultan, according to Barani, ‘grossly abused him, and spurned his honest counsels.’ And when Mubarak told Khusrav about the suspicions of the noble, ‘the infamous wretch began to weep and lament, saying that the great kindness and distinction which the sultan had bestowed upon him had made all the nobles and attendants of the court his enemies, and they were eager to take his life. The sultan [then] said that even if the all the world were turned upside down, and all his companions were of one voice in accusing Khusrav, he would sacrifice them all for one hair on his head.’

The final scenes of the unfolding drama are described in absorbing detail by Barani. One day late at night in mid-April 1320, a band of Khusrav’s armed men under the leadership of Jahariya, their captain, entered the palace and assaulted the guards there. This created an uproar, which roused the sultan from his sleep, and he asked Khusrav, who was evidently sleeping with him, to go and find out what the trouble was. ‘He went and looked, and told the sultan that some of his horses had broken loose, and were running about in the courtyard, where men were engaged in catching them. Just then Jahariya and some of his followers came to the upper storey [of the palace, where the sultan was sleeping,] and they despatched the officers and door-keepers there. The [ensuing] violent uproar convinced the sultan that treason was at work, so he put on his slippers and ran towards the harem. The traitor saw that if the sultan escaped into the women’s apartments, it would be difficult to consummate the plot. Prompt in his villainy, he [therefore] rushed after the sultan and seized him from behind by the hair, which he twisted tightly round his hand. The sultan then flung him down and got upon his chest, but still the rascal would not release his hold. They were in this position when Jahariya entered at the head of the conspirators … [and he] struck the sultan in the chest with a spear and dragged him off Khusrav, dashed him to the ground and cut off his head.’ The headless trunk of the sultan was then flung into the courtyard.

When the royal guards and others realised what had happened, many of them ‘fled and hid themselves,’ but quite a few of them were caught and killed by the Gujaratis. The rebels then entered the harem, killed Ala-ud-din’s widow, and committed many atrocities there. Khusrav’s men thus took full control of the palace. ‘Lamps and torches were then lighted in great numbers and a court was held.’ The great nobles of the sultanate were then sent for ‘and were brought into the palace and made accomplices in what happened. By daybreak the palace was full inside and out with … [Khusrav’s men]. Khusrav Khan
had prevailed. The face of the world thus assumed a new complexion. A new order of things had sprung up, and the foundation of the dynasty of Ala-ud-din was utterly razed.’

‘As the day broke, Khusrav, in the presence of those nobles whom he had brought into the palace, mounted the throne and assumed the title of Sultan Nadir-ud-din … He had no sooner begun to reign, than he ordered all the personal attendants of the late sultan, many of whom were of high rank, to be slain. Their wives, women, children and handmaids were all given to the Parwaris and Hindus.’ Khusrav then won over many nobles, even several Muslim clerics, to his side by scattering gold and other opulent gifts among them. He also took care to honour and appease several of the Khalji loyalists. Prominent among those he thus sought to placate was Fakhr-ud-din Jauna, the future Muhammad bin Tughluq, who was appointed Master of the Horse and was honoured in various ways; Khusrav was particularly keen to win over Jauna, for he was the son of Ghazi Malik, the governor of Punjab, a most respected and powerful royal officer.

CONTEMPORARY MUSLIM CHRONICLERS speak of Khusrav’s usurpation of the throne as a Hindu coup. ‘In the course of four or five days preparations were made for idol worship in the palace,’ writes Barani. ‘The horrid Parwaris sported in the royal harem. Khusrav married the wife of the late sultan; and the Parwaris, having gained the upper hand, took to themselves the wives and handmaids of the nobles and great men. The flames of violence and cruelty reached to the skies. Copies of the Holy Book were used as seats, and idols were set up in the pulpits of mosques … Hindus rejoiced greatly … boasting that Delhi had once more come under Hindu rule.’ Ibn Battuta, a later chronicler confirms this, and states that ‘Khusrav Khan upon becoming king, showed great favour to Hindus,’ and prohibited cow slaughter.

Many of Khusrav’s close followers were Hindus, and it is likely that some Hindu rites were performed by them in the palace. Because of all this, but perhaps mainly because the Turkish nobles of the sultanate could not reconcile themselves to having an Indian Muslim as their sultan, opposition to Khusrav soon began to mount. The prime mover against Khusrav was Ghazi Malik who, according to Barani, ‘writhed like a snake when he heard of the overthrow of the dynasty of Ala-ud-din.’ He had initially acquiesced with the usurpation of Khusrav, because any hostile move by him would have endangered the life of his son Jauna, who was in Delhi. Eventually, some two months after Khusrav’s accession, Jauna, escorted by just a couple of his men, managed to escape from Delhi one afternoon and join his father in Punjab, outpacing a body of cavalrymen Khusrav sent in pursuit of him.

Ghazi Malik was then free to move against Khusrav. He tried to form a confederacy of nobles and provincial governors with the rallying cry that Islam was in danger, but not many responded to his call, as they did not want to risk their official positions, and preferred to wait for the situation to clarify before deciding which side to join. Meanwhile Khusrav, hearing of the moves of Ghazi Malik, sent an army against him under the command of his brother and another young officer. Comments Barani: ‘So these two foolish, ignorant lads went forth, like newly hatched chickens just beginning to fly, to fight with a veteran warrior like Ghazi Malik … who twenty times had routed the Mongols.’ Hearing of their advance, Ghazi Malik set out from Dipalpur to confront them, and he easily routed them in a brief encounter.

Ghazi Malik remained on the battlefield for a week, to collect and distribute the spoils, and to rest and reorganise his army. He then advanced on Delhi. Meanwhile Khusrav organised another army, distributing largesse among the soldiers. Many soldiers, according Barani, ‘took the money of the wretched fellow, heaped hundreds of curses upon him, and then went to their homes.’ Even one of Khusrav’s top generals deserted him. But despite these setbacks, Khusrav confidently advanced to meet the army of Ghazi Malik. The ensuing battle, fought at Indarpat near Delhi in early September 1320, was closely contested, but in the end Khusrav was defeated. He then fled for his life, but was caught lurking in a garden, and was promptly beheaded. ‘The effeminate wretch could not bear the attack of men,’ comments Barani.

‘That night, while Ghazi Malik was at Indarpat, most of the nobles and chief men and officers came from the city (Delhi) to pay their respects to him, and the keys of the palace and of the city gates were brought to him,’ notes Barani. On the second day after the battle Ghazi Malik rode to the Palace of Thousand Pillars at Siri. And there, in the presence of the assembled nobles, he ‘wept over the unhappy fate which had befallen … the sons of Ala-ud-din, his patron.’ He then told the nobles: ‘If you know of any son of our patron’s blood, bring him forth immediately, and I will seat him on the throne, and will be the first to tender him my service and devotion. If the whole stock has been clean cut off, then do you bring forward some worthy and proper person and raise him to the throne; I will pay my allegiance to him. I have drawn my sword to avenge my patrons, not to gain power and ascend the throne.’

The nobles then told him that the entire family of Ala-ud-din had been wiped out by the usurpers. And they proclaimed: ‘All of us who are here present know no one besides thee who is worthy of royalty and fit to rule.’ They then took him by the hand and conducted him to the throne, ‘and everyone paid him due homage.’

On 8 September 1320 Ghazi Malik thus became the sultan of Delhi, and took the title Ghiyas-ud-din Tughluq Shah.

The accession of Ghiyas-ud-din Tughluq calmed the dreadful paroxysm that had afflicted the Sultanate since the closing years of Ala-ud-din Khalji’s reign. Ghiyas-ud-din was a sagacious ruler, wise and moderate, caring as much for the welfare of his subjects, as for the preservation of his power. And, although he had no spectacular achievements to his credit, he restored normalcy in the Sultanate, and that in itself was a major achievement. ‘In the course of one week the business of the state was brought to order, and the disorders and evils caused by Khusrav and his unholy followers were remedied,’ states Barani. ‘The people in all parts of the country were delighted at his accession. Rebellion and disaffection ceased, peace and obedience prevailed.’

According to Battuta, Ghiyas-ud din ‘belonged to a clan of Turks called Karauna inhabiting the mountains between Sind and the country of the Turks. He was in a very humble condition, and went to Sind as a servant of a certain merchant.’ Later he entered the service of the Khalji governor of Sind as a footman, and distinguished himself by his skill, bravery and devotion. After a while, he joined the royal service in Delhi, and there too won the appreciation and favour of his superiors, and rose rapidly in the official hierarchy, to eventually become one of the top nobles of the Sultanate. Ala-ud-din conferred on him the title Ghazi Malik, and appointed him as the governor of Punjab, a critically important post, responsible for the defence the empire against the depredations of Mongols. That appointment, and his commendable performance in the post, considerably enhanced his already high reputation, and made his accession to the throne of Delhi natural and inevitable after the overthrow of Khusrav.

Ghiyas-ud-din, according to Sirhindi, ‘was a kind and just person, chaste and pure … In ingenuity, thrift, knowledge and adroitness he was unequalled.’ He was not at all an overweening person, and his accession to the throne made hardly any change in his character or conduct. He never flaunted his power. His relationship with the nobles was more of camaraderie than of dominance; he led the nobles, but did not drive them. ‘His nobleness and generosity of character made him distinguish and reward all those whom he had known and been connected with, and those who in former days had showed him kindness or had rendered him service,’ notes Barani. ‘No act of kindness was ever passed over.’ Characteristically, on the very day of his accession, Ghiyas-ud-din had all the surviving relatives of Ala-ud-din and Mubarak brought to him, and he treated them ‘with all due respect and honour.’ He also took care to marry off the daughters of Ala-ud-din suitably. A pious Muslim, he lived a life of discipline and moderation, abjured wine drinking and all excesses. All his actions were marked by propriety. Sang poet Amir Khusrav:

He never did anything that was not replete with wisdom and sense

He might be said to wear a hundred doctors’ hoods under his crown.

PRUDENCE, JUSTICE AND concern for the commonweal characterised all the policies and actions of Ghiyas-ud-din. So, despite being ever loyal to the memory of Ala-ud-din, he reversed or modified many of the former sultan’s exacting regulations, so as to lighten the burden on people and to ease the pressure on administration. Having risen from among the common people, he knew their problems, sympathised with them, and did what he could to mitigate their sufferings, but without compromising the interests of the state. ‘In the generosity of his nature, he ordered that the land revenues of the country should be settled on just principles,’ and he substantially reduced the tax demand on farmers from what it was under Ala-ud-din, reports Barani. While Ala-ud-din had collected half the farm produce as tax, Ghiyas-ud-din limited it to one-tenth or one-eleventh of the gross produce. He also took care to remit taxes during drought years.

These sharp reductions in tax rates by the sultan would have notably reduced the revenues of the state, but they did not seriously impair its financial health, because the sultan prudently balanced them by stimulating the expansion of agriculture and trade, so that the reduction of the tax rates was offset, at least partly, by the expansion of the economy and the consequent widening of the sources of revenue of the state.

Ghiyas-ud-din held that the sensible means to increase the revenue of the state was to expand farm production, so he, according to Barani, sought to motivate farmers to increase the area under their cultivation by directing
his revenue officers to ensure that ‘something was left [to farmers] over and above the tribute, so that the country might not be ruined by the weight of taxation, and the way to improvement be barred.’ He cautioned his officers that ‘countries are ruined and are kept in poverty by excessive taxation and the exorbitant demands of kings.’ The sultan also took some positive measures to facilitate the expansion of cultivation, such as digging irrigation canals, and building forts in the countryside to provide people security from brigands. On the whole Ghiyas-ud-din’s revenue measures benefited the people as well as the sultan.

Ghiyas-ud-din also introduced certain administrative measures to prevent, or at least minimise, the exploitation of farmers by tax collectors—thus, instead of the usual method of remunerating the tax collectors by giving them a percentage of their revenue collection, which resulted in the collectors extorting excess payments from farmers, the sultan compensated the collectors by exempting their land holdings from taxes. Further, to protect farmers, he prohibited the use of torture for collecting tax arrears, even though he allowed torture in cases of theft and embezzlement.

The sultan was equally considerate in his treatment of Hindus—while he followed the orthodox Muslim state policy of treating Hindus as subject people and second class citizens, he took care that they were not turned destitute. According to Barani, the sultan ordered that Hindus should be left with enough (but only with just enough) sustenance to lead a productive life, so that they would not become either ‘blinded by wealth’ and turn rebellious, ‘nor, on the other hand, be so reduced to poverty and destitution as to be unable to pursue their husbandry.’

Ghiyas-ud-din’s general policy in dealing with his subjects, Hindus as well as Muslims, was to be fair but firm with them—he would not exploit the people, nor would he allow the people to cheat him. Thus when he found that Khusrav had improperly given away extensive land grants and large amounts of money to various influential people, including some religious leaders, to win their support, he ordered the resumption of those lands and demanded the refund of the money from the recipients. One of the chief beneficiaries of Khusrav’s largesse was the celebrated Sufi sage Nizam-ud-din Auliya, who had received about half a million tankas from him. When Ghiyas-ud-din demanded the refund of this amount from the sage, he replied that he had distributed all the money in charity as soon as he received it, and therefore could not make the restitution. This angered the sultan and intensified his dislike of the sage, whose dervish practices he, an orthodox Muslim, in any case strongly disapproved. This ill feeling between the two would later add a curious twist to the mystery about the violent death of the sultan a few years later.

Another important administrative measure of Ghiyas-ud-din was the restoration of the postal system that Ala-ud-din had set up, but had fallen into disuse after his death. Its restoration enabled Ghiyas-ud-din to keep in regular touch with all parts of his empire, and manage its affairs efficiently.

ONE OF THE major concerns of Ghiyas-ud-din as sultan was to recover the territories that the Sultanate had lost during the turmoil following the death of Ala-ud-din, and to restore the Sultanate to its former position of absolute supremacy in the Indian subcontinent. In pursuit of this policy he sent, in the second year of his reign, an army into Warangal, where the Kakatiya ruler Prataparudra-deva had thrown off the yoke of the sultanate and was expanding his territory and power through military campaigns against his neighbours. The Sultanate army, commanded by Ghiyas-ud-din’s eldest son Jauna, then invaded the kingdom and forced the raja, after a prolonged siege, to plead for peace.

But at the point of the conclusion of the campaign, the Sultanate army was suddenly thrown into turmoil by certain mysterious developments. The basic cause of the trouble was that the army had not received any news from Delhi for nearly a month—because the communication link between Delhi and the army had been cut by local rebels—and that led to all sorts of wild rumours to spread in the army. One such rumour was that Ghiyas-ud-din was dead, and that Delhi was in the throes of a political turmoil. It was also rumoured that Jauna was plotting to usurp the throne, and was planning to liquidate some of the senior army commanders whose loyalty to him was suspect. All this created great disquiet among the army commanders, and they, as well as Jauna, retreated in disorder to Devagiri, from where the prince sped to his father in Delhi with a small escort.

This is the story told by Barani. But Battuta offers another explanation for the development, and states that the rumour about Ghiyas-ud-din’s death was deliberately spread by Ubaid, a poet and boon companion of Jauna, on the suggestion of the prince. This, according to Battuta, was done to enable the prince to win the support of the army in his plan to usurp the throne, but the plan failed as the army commanders suspected the truth and deserted the prince, as they did not want to be associated with the planned usurpation.

The version given by Battuta is not credible, because of its inherent improbability—Jauna, as the eldest son of the sultan, had already been designated as the heir apparent, and there was no reason for him to jeopardise that position by rebelling. Besides, subsequent developments also disprove the usurpation attempt theory. On the return of the army to Delhi, the officers who deserted Jauna were put to death by the sultan—the chief deserters ‘were impaled alive, and some of the others with their wives and children were thrown under the feet of elephants,’ reports Barani. In direct contrast
to this, Jauna was given a fresh army and sent again against Warangal, where the raja had reasserted his independence. There was evidently no suspicion at all in the sultan about the loyalty of Jauna. This was also proved by subsequent developments. Thus a year or so later, when the sultan set out on a campaign into Bengal, he had no hesitation at all to appoint Jauna as his regent in Delhi.

Jauna’s stature as the heir apparent enhanced considerably after his second Warangal campaign, which was entirely successful. The raja there once again surrendered to him after a brief resistance, and the prince then sent him, along with all his treasures, to Delhi, and annexed the kingdom to the empire. From Warangal Jauna then seems to have advanced north-eastward into Orissa and then southward into the Tamil country, but the accounts about this campaign in contemporary chronicles are confusing. But on the whole the peninsular campaign of Jauna seems to have been quite successful. This is indicated by the grand reception that the sultan accorded to the prince on his return to Delhi.

Ghiyas-ud-din then put Jauna in charge of Delhi and set out for Bengal with an army, to reassert his authority over that rebellious and strife-torn province. After a successful campaign there, which brought most of Bengal once again under the rule of Delhi, the sultan hastened back home, as some disquieting news had reached him about developments in Delhi. This concerned Jauna’s association with Nizam-ud-din Auliya, and the dervish’s prediction in one his trances that Jauna’s accession to the throne was imminent. Other astrologers are also said to have made similar predictions. Hearing all this, Ghiyas-ud-din wrote menacing letters to the astrologers, and sent a warning to Auliya that when he returned to Delhi, the city would be too small to hold them both.

AS IT HAPPENED, it was not the sultan’s threat, but the dervish’s prediction, that came true. When some of Auliya’s devotees warned him of the sultan’s imminent arrival in Delhi, and advised him to leave the city in view of the sultan’s threat, he is said to have replied, ‘
Hanuz Dihli dur ast!
’—Delhi is still far off!

According to Barani, when Jauna learnt of the sultan’s return, he along with the great nobles in Delhi went forth to receive him, and built for his reception a temporary structure at Afghanpur, a village about a dozen kilometres from Tughluqabad, the capital that Ghiyas-ud-din had built for himself south of Delhi. When the sultan arrived at Afghanpur, the prince and the nobles ceremoniously conducted him to the reception hall they had built there, and served him a grand banquet. Then suddenly, while the sultan was still in the building, ‘a calamity occurred. Like a thunderbolt falling from heaven … the roof of the dais on which the sultan … was sitting fell, crushing him and five or six other persons, so that they all died.’

Battuta describes the incident quite differently. According to him it was the sultan who ordered the reception hall to be built, and it was built on wooden pillars and beams by Jauna in the course of three days. Jauna, according to Battuta, had designed it ingeniously so that ‘it would crash when elephants touched it at a certain spot … The sultan stopped at this building and feasted the people. After they dispersed, the prince asked the sultan for permission to parade the elephants before him.’ During the parade, when the elephants passed along a particular place, the building, as Jauna had planned, collapsed on the sultan, killing him. Though Jauna then ordered pickaxes and shovels ‘to be brought to dig and look for his father, he made signs to them not to hurry, and the tools were not brought till after sunset. Then they began to dig … Some assert that Tughluq was taken out dead; others, on the contrary, maintain that he was alive, and that an end was made of him.’

The mechanical ingenuity attributed to Jauna by Battuta in constructing the collapsible building, though not impossible, seems improbable, and so does his story of the prince making signs (obviously in front of many others) to the rescuers to delay their work. The hastily built structure was probably not quite stable. Ferishta mentions that there was a suspicion of conspiracy behind the accident, but he discredits it, and adds, ‘God only knows the truth.’ Assassinations of kings by their close relatives were all too common in the Delhi Sultanate, so it was natural to suspect conspiracy in every accident. But lack of a compelling motive—Jauna was after all the heir-apparent, and his father was a very old man—and the complicated and chancy device used for causing the sultan’s death, as also Battuta’s marked prejudice against the prince, which is evident in much of what he says about him, make the conspiracy theory implausible.