The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate (30 page)

All that was mere pretence. And the pretence did not last long. Soon, after Buhlul became secure on the throne, he had Hamid thrown into prison, but did that with a characteristic show of courtesy. One day in the court Qutb Khan Lodi, Buhlul’s cousin, respectfully placed a chain before Hamid and told him that for political reasons it was necessary to imprison him, but that his life would be spared out of consideration for the many services that he had rendered to the sultan. Nothing more was heard of Hamid Khan thereafter.

Buhlul’s actions were all characterised by similar deliberation and courtesy. And he was invariably fair in his dealings with his nobles as well as with his subjects, even with his adversaries. And this nobility of his character commanded the respect of all. ‘Sultan Buhlul … evinced courage and generosity. His mercy and benevolence were habitual,’ writes Abdullah in his long paean on Buhlul. ‘He observed the rules of honesty, and had exceeding respect for the law, to the injunctions of which he strictly adhered in all his
undertakings. He spent most of his time in the assemblies of the wise and in the society of holy men, and made special inquiries respecting the poor and necessitous. He never turned away any suppliant … He devoted extreme care to the administration of justice, and himself heard the petitions of his subjects …’

‘He was wise, experienced, considerate, kind, friendly … and just,’ continues Abdullah. ‘Whatever came into his possession, in money, goods or new
parganas
, he distributed it all among his troops, and reserved nothing whatever for himself. He accumulated no treasure, and executed his kingly functions without parade and ostentation … In his social meetings he never sat on a throne, and would not allow his nobles to stand. Even during public audiences he did not occupy the throne, but seated himself upon a carpet … If at any time … [his nobles] were displeased with him, he tried so hard to pacify them that he would himself go to their houses, ungird his sword from his waist, and place it before the offended party; nay, he would sometimes even take off his turban from his head, and solicit forgiveness, saying “If you think me unworthy of the station I occupy, choose someone else, and bestow on me some other office.” He maintained brotherly intercourse with all his chiefs and soldiers. If anyone was ill, he would himself go and attend on him … [But] he was exceedingly bold [in battle] … From the day that he became king, no one achieved a victory over him …’

At the time of the accession of Buhlul ‘the whole of Hind was divided into provinces governed by petty rulers,’ observes Ni’matullah. Under Buhlul there was some revival the fortunes of the Sultanate, and some expansion of its territories. Soon after his accession he was engaged in a long seesaw struggle with the sultan of the powerful kingdom of Jaunpur, whom he finally overthrew and annexed his kingdom, a success that considerably enhanced his power and prestige. He also asserted his authority over the recalcitrant chieftains in the Doab and Mewat, by waging several successful campaigns against them.

The reign of Buhlul lasted nearly 39 years, its very length, truly exceptional in that turbulent age, proving the success of his reign. This success seems even more remarkable when we consider that he had very limited resources, and that the dominant Turkish community in Delhi was scornful of Afghans because of their rugged manners and rustic speech.

BUHLUL DIED IN July 1489, aged eighty. He died, according to Ni’matullah, ‘on account of excessive heat’—presumably by sunstroke—while returning to Delhi after a military campaign. His third son, Sikandar, whom the sultan had designated as his successor, considering him to be the ablest of his sons, then ascended the throne. Buhlul had, while nominating Sikandar for the throne, taken care, with his characteristic caution and prudence, to assign suitable territories and offices to his other sons, close relatives, and prominent amirs,
so that the succession of Sikandar would be smooth. Still, some of the nobles objected to Sikandar’s nomination, on the ground that his mother was a Hindu goldsmith’s daughter. Though Sikandar overcame this objection and ascended the throne, his accession was challenged by his elder brother Barbak, to whom Buhlul had assigned the important province of Jaunpur. In the ensuing battle Sikandar easily defeated his brother, but restored him to the throne of Jaunpur, following the conciliatory policy of his father. But Barbak proved to be incompetent to rule even Jaunpur, so Sikandar eventually removed him from his office and kept him in confinement.

Sikandar was only 18 when he ascended the throne, but he was endowed with a maturity and sagacity far above his age. All contemporary chroniclers have only high praise for the sultan, for the lofty qualities of his mind and heart, even for his physical charm. ‘He was,’ states Abdullah, ‘remarkable for his beauty, which was unsurpassed, and … whoever looked on him yielded his heart captive to him.’ According to Ni’matullah, astrologers had, on the birth of Sikandar, predicted that he would adorn ‘the garden of sovereignty with verdure and brightness.’ He would indeed fulfil that prediction.

‘Sultan Sikandar,’ states Abdullah in his effulgent praise of the monarch, ‘was a most illustrious monarch and of a benevolent disposition; he was famous for his liberality, honour and politeness; he had no desire for pomp and ceremonies, and cared not for processions and magnificent dresses. No one who was profligate or of bad character had access to him. He … was exceedingly god-fearing and benevolent … just and courageous … and he was constantly … trying to render his subjects happy. He personally assisted the wretched … Every winter he sent clothes and shawls for the benefit of the needy, and distributed a certain amount of money to them every Friday … He ordained that twice a year he should be furnished with detailed accounts of the meritorious poor in his empire, whom he then supplied with means sufficient to support them for six months, each receiving according to his needs …’ Adds Ni’matullah: ‘He was … endowed with the quality of mildness, and was eminently benevolent, highly dignified and refined … He was a paragon or bravery and justice …’

Abdullah and Ni’matullah, early seventeenth century chroniclers, are our main sources of information on the Lodi dynasty, but the portraits they paint of Buhlul and Sikandar are so radiant that they strain credibility. Their exaggerations are however exaggerations of facts, we should assume; they are not fiction. These chroniclers had no vested interest in falsifying the portraits of the Lodi sultans, for they wrote their chronicles over eight decades after the fall of the Lodi dynasty, and had therefore nothing to gain or lose from what they wrote. The problem with their accounts is their hyperbolic narrative style, not their bias.

SIKANDAR’S REIGN WAS a period of cultural efflorescence in the Sultanate. The sultan himself, according to Badauni, was a poet, who wrote in Persian under a pen-name. He was keenly interested in all literary and scholarly activities, as well as in music. Most commendably, he paid particular attention to the preservation of old manuscripts, and arranged for the translation of several Sanskrit texts into Persian, particularly an ancient Indian text on medicine. He was also a keen sportsman—‘he enjoyed himself in field sports,’ states Ni’matullah. Hunting and polo, the common pastimes of the Delhi sultans, were the favourite pastimes of Sikandar too, but he was also keen on fishing, particularly in summer, when he, according to Ni’matullah, often pitched his tents on the banks of the Yamuna, ‘whither he retired in order to avoid the heat, and amuse himself with fishing.’

But despite his benevolent disposition, wide-ranging cultural interests, and broad social concerns, Sikandar was a hyper-orthodox Muslim who regarded it his sacred duty to demolish temples and induce his non-Muslim subjects to become Muslims. ‘His zeal for Islam surpassed all bounds,’ comments Ni’matullah. He ‘entirely ruined the shrines of Mathura, the mine of heathenism, and turned the principal Hindu places of worship into caravanserais and colleges,’ reports Abdullah. ‘Their stone images were given to butchers to serve them as meat-weights.’

Several such acts of Sikandar are recorded in medieval chronicles. Once when he was told of a Brahmin who maintained that both Islam and Hinduism were true religions, and were merely different but equally valid means for god realisation, he sought the opinion of his theologians on whether the view was valid, and whether, if it was valid, the two communities should live in peace and harmony. The theologians asserted that the Brahmin’s view was most pernicious, and that he should be forced to become a Muslim, since he admitted the truth of Islam, and that he should be put to death if he refused. As the Brahmin refused to become a Muslim—he obviously saw no reason to change religion since his own religion was as true as Islam—he was put to death.

Some of the incidents of the sultan’s persecution of non-Muslims given in medieval chronicles might be exaggerations, meant to laud the sultan’s religious zeal, but there is little doubt that his passion for enforcing Islamic precepts was quite extreme. Indeed, some of his anti-infidel actions went beyond what was expected of even a most orthodox Muslim ruler, and were criticised even by some Muslim religious leaders. Thus, according to Abdullah, a cleric once told Sikandar ‘that it would be very improper for him to destroy ancient idol temples, and that he ought not forbid [Hindus] from performing their accustomed rites …’ Hearing this, the sultan ‘placed his hand on his dagger, and exclaimed, “You side with the infidels! I will first put an end to you, and then massacre the infidels.” But the cleric stood his ground, and replied:
“Everyone’s life is in the hand of god … Whoever enters the presence of a tyrant must beforehand prepare himself for death.”’ The sultan then rose and left in a huff. But he took no action against the cleric.

As in persecuting non-Muslims, Sikandar was equally fervid in suppressing the semi-idolatrous practices of some Muslim sects, such as taking out processions with relics. He also forbade women from going on pilgrimages to the tombs of saints, as that was an unorthodox practice. At the same time he sought to promote Islam by building many new masjids throughout his dominions, manned by state-funded staff.

All this he did in conformity with what was expected of an orthodox Muslim ruler. There were however two matters in which the sultan deviated from the orthodox Muslim prescriptions—he shaved his beard, and he drank wine secretly. ‘You are a Mussulman monarch, and yet wear no beard,’ a Muslim sage once upbraided him. ‘This is contrary to the institutions of Islam, and particularly improper in a king.’ To that the sultan replied: ‘My beard is thin; if I allow it to grow it will look ill, and men will scoff at me.’ As for the sultan drinking wine, he did it for health reasons, claims Abdullah. Ni’matullah also states that Sikandar drank wine ‘as a medicinal tonic, in privacy, for the exhilaration of his spirit, and he did it in a decent and refined way.’

SIKANDAR CONDUCTED HIMSELF decorously at all times, and was formal even in his conversation. ‘The sultan’s conversation,’ states Abdullah, ‘was under discipline, and he was never desultory.’ And just as Sikandar was reserved and ceremonial in all that he did, he required his courtiers to observe formal etiquette in his presence. While the court practices under Buhlul were informal, and the sultan was then considered as no more than a
primus inter pares
, a first among equals, the scene changed altogether under Sikandar. The sultan now elevated himself to a far higher plane than his courtiers, who were required to treat him with high respect, and conduct themselves with becoming decorum. ‘Every chief had his assigned place in his presence, where he always stood,’ notes Abdullah. And ‘every work had its appointed time,’ adds Ni’matullah.

These were not whimsical acts of the personal vanity of the sultan, but expressions of a well-considered policy to enforce discipline and efficiency in administration. A crucial aspect of this policy was that Sikandar required his provincial governors to submit their accounts regularly for auditing by central government officers. Defaulters and embezzlers were sternly punished.

Further, to keep track of all that was happening everywhere in the empire, Sikandar set up an elaborate intelligence network, so that well-informed, prompt and effective action could be taken to redress abuses and rectify faults. ‘He possessed a retentive memory,’ states Abdullah. ‘He daily received an
account of the prices of all things, and an account of what had happened in the different districts of his empire. If he perceived the slightest appearance of anything wrong, he caused instant inquiries to be made about it.’ And when he sent his army on a campaign, he kept in constant touch with it twice every day, in the morning and the evening, whatever be the distance involved, sending instructions to it and receiving information from it. In all this Sikandar seems to have modelled himself on the policies and conduct of Ala-ud-din Khalji.

Sikandar, according to Ni’matullah, ‘executed all his affairs with discernment, keenness and penetrating insight.’ And he was untiring in his work. ‘On occasions he remained so engrossed in administrative work from morning till evening and the hour for retiring, so he performed all the five daily prayers at one and the same [time and at the same] place,’ states Ni’matullah. Official work often kept him awake till late at night, sometimes even till daybreak, so he had to catch up with sleep by taking a nap at midday. Sikandar, according to Abdullah, ‘generally preferred the night for listening to the petitions of the needy; he also devoted a portion of it for regulating the affairs of the empire, and for writing firmans to the governors of provinces, and letters to the monarchs of the time.’

THE MAIN FOCUS of Sikandar’s reign was on tightening the administration of the state rather than on expanding its territory. And, as in everything else, he was cautious and deliberate in his military policy also. He launched no major campaigns of conquest, sought no territory beyond what he could effectively govern. Rather than waging wars against his adversaries, he endeavoured to win them over through conciliatory policies. ‘He put an end to wars and disputes with the other monarchs and nobles of the age, and closed the road of contention and strife,’ states Abdullah. ‘He contented himself with the territory bequeathed to him by his father, and passed the whole of his life in the greatest safety and enjoyment.’