Aurangzeb The Man and The Myth by Audrey Truschke

Just King or Zealous Bigot?

Truschke, who teaches at Rutgers University, New Jersey has made a career researching Mughal History. As an academic, it is her prerogative to choose her field of research. This Reviewer has no doubts about the rigorous methodology of her research, her sources, and her other academic accomplishments. The book under review is on Aurangzeb, written in a simple narrative form, uncluttered by footnotes and citations meant to be easily understood by a lay reader. For those academically inclined, extensive notes about sources are given chapter-wise and para-wise at the end of the essay. So far, so good.

It is in explaining her motive to write this essay, that she falters. Evidently, she wishes to address the “divisive Hindu nationalist perspective” of “oppressive Muslim conquerors” who “are supposedly implicated in unsavoury aspects of India’s past” (all words within quotes are the author’s). A local Sikh group in Delhi is not spared either, for its call “to strip the Mughal emperor’s name from a major thoroughfare in Delhi”. Indeed Truschke mocks the Sikh group by quoting one of the group’s statements that is drafted in poor, grammatically incorrect English.

Evidently, Truschke has not visited the Sis Ganj Sahib Gurudwara in Delhi, and witnessed the deep emotions that the Sikh community feels even today towards their Holy Ninth Guru, who was beheaded there on the orders of Aurangzeb for resisting forced conversion of Hindus. The site next to the Gurudwara was Aurangzeb’s Kotwali (prison) where the Ninth Guru was held. It is now the Langar where devotees are given a free meal. No one can possibly remain unmoved by the deep humility of the Sikh community that runs the Gurudwara, and their sense of historical hurt. That the Sikhs waited till 2015 to have the major thoroughfare renamed is in it itself a wonder, and a sign of their tolerance, and acceptance of the past.

No one, not “the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)” nor the Sikhs would quarrel with her research. It is when rigorous historical research descends to debates between political parties that it gathers the nature of partisan pamphleteering. She is not alone in this project. See my review of Giles Tillotson’s book titled Delhi Darshan, where the author excoriates the then Indian Home Minister, L. K. Advani and his political party, the BJP, repeatedly in a short book on the architecture of Delhi’s monuments. These self-appointed custodians of public morality do not have any problems with the divisive secular politics of Indian National Congress which in perfect consonance with Aurangzeb’s public policy wreaked genocide on the Sikh community in 1984, and on the Chitpavan Brahmin community in 1948.

What is Truschke’s main thesis?

Her project is aimed at “understanding Aurangzeb on his own terms”, and “analyse the man himself as both a product of his age and emperor who shaped the times in which he lived”. She also justifiably observes that “it makes little sense to assess the past by contemporary criteria”.

This latter statement is unexceptionable. Yet it is historians of her ilk who frequently judge Mughal rulers by contemporary values. Akbar is the poster boy of the Mughal “secularism” (for illustrative purposes see Sen, The Argumentative Indian). It is doubtful if this modern term would have made any sense to Akbar. He was actually a Ghazi, a title conferred on him for killing a non-believer with his own hands. Admittedly, he was more liberal than his forbears and his descendants. But that does not make him secular.

The poster girl of women's liberation in Mughal history is Gulbadan Begum, Humayun’s sister and Akbar’s aunt. She led an epic voyage of Mughal ladies to Mecca and Medina. On the strength of her leadership qualities, Ruby Lal, another historian of Truschke’s ilk, portrays the Mughal harem as a place that elevates the status of women (see Dalrymple’s interview of Ruby Lal on YouTube). In a reversal of approach, let us apply Mughal values to contemporary life. Would Ruby Lal feel elevated if her husband takes five other wives and confines them all in an upscale New York apartment, where she can discuss contemporary politics with her co-wives and ultimately influence the manner in which the man of the house votes in the upcoming election for the POTUS (President of the United States)? An instance of Mughal women having a say in politics? It goes without saying that the women themselves have no franchise.

Let us now return to Truschke’s project. 

Judging historical figures “on their own terms, as products of particular times and places, and explain their actions and impacts” may be good history, but it is certainly disingenuous to “hold back judgment”. Let us extend Truschke’s project to a wider cohort of historical contexts.

(1)    Nazis should be judged on their own terms. They were products of their times and place. Antisemitism was not invented by the Nazis. It existed widely in Europe. It was fashionable to be an anti-Semite among socialites in late nineteenth century Europe (see Tuchman, The Proud Tower). The Nazis genuinely believed they were a superior race and needed ‘lebensraum’ to bloom in the twentieth century world. Shall we hold back judgment and “allow room for a more nuanced and compelling story”?

(2)    The Confederacy should be judged on its own terms. The people in the Confederate states grew up with slavery. It was a part and parcel of their local culture. Their belief in white superiority and its divine sanction was genuine. Should Indian historians of the American Civil War lecture Americans about the inappropriateness of removing confederate monuments? Should an essay in simple English uncluttered by citations be written for the lay American to explain to him the correct way to view the life of Robert E Lee, and excoriate the American Government for removing his monument on 19^th May 2017?

(3)    Nearer home should we not judge Nathuram Godse on his own terms? He genuinely believed that Gandhi was being inimical to the cause of the newly independent country. His two hour long peroration delivered extempore in the packed Court hall, had the listeners in tears. Was not his death sentence judicial murder- a man found guilty by the yardstick of another?

In this book, while Truschke examines Aurangzeb on his own terms, she does not extend to the citizens of India, and the Sikh community in particular, the privilege of being examined on their own terms. The facts are not in dispute. She concedes that:

(1)    Aurangzeb, in 1675, ordered the beheading of Guru Tej Bahadur, the Holy Ninth Guru of the Sikhs, although she contests the belief that he was punished for resisting forced conversion of Hindus.

(2)    Aurangzeb ordered the demolition of the Kashi Vishvanatha Temple in 1669. The Gyanvapi Masjid was built in its place, and this mosque still stands today, with the Temple’s wall repurposed in the construction of the mosque.

(3)    Aurangzeb ordered that the Keshava Deva Temple in Mathura be brought down in 1670 and sponsored the mosque that replaced the Temple.

(4)    “In 1672, Aurangzeb issued an order recalling all endowed lands given to Hindus and reserving all future land grants for Muslims, possibly as a concession to the ulama.”

(5)    Aurangzeb reintroduced the jizya tax on non-Muslims in 1679. This tax was not in force for nearly a hundred years before he revived it.

Truschke has her own explanations for the events listed above. The first three incidents were in response to political unrest. The last two were a concession to the ulama. By these actions, Aurangzeb sought to bring peace and ensure justice for all!

(i)                  Guru Tej Bahadur had been causing unrest in Punjab and his execution “was likely a more routine matter from a Mughal Perspective. The execution is not mentioned in any Pesian texts from Aurangzeb’s period, which suggests that it was not an exceptional event for the Mughals” (page 70). That the Satnamis were also targets of Aurangzeb’s violence does not in the least mitigate the crime of Guru Tej Bahadur’s ill treatment, but only widens the scope of Aurangzeb’s zealous bigotry.

(ii)                Brahmins managing the two holy Temples were involved in “political missteps”. The demolition was supposed to ensure future submission to the Mughal state. Benares landlords connected to the Vishvanatha Temple had allegedly helped Shivaji to flee the Mughal court and this too caused Aurangzeb to see red.

(iii)               The order recalling land grants to Hindus was apparently not implemented. The inefficiency and corruption in the collection of jizya tax did not add much to the Mughal coffers. This is trotted as mitigating the effect of Aurangzeb’s actions.   

Truschke fails to realize that glib negationism of gross injustice, serves to exacerbate rather than abate contemporary expression of revulsion towards her hero. Further, Truschke’s thesis strengthens the grounds to urge the reconstruction of these Temples, and the removal of mosques adjoining them. If the original act of demolition was purely a political act, then the collapse of the Mughal Government automatically transmutes the rebels of yesterday to freedom fighters of today. Like the removal of Confederate monuments, it must be a simple task to demolish the mosques and restore the Temples in question. There are evidently no religious or theological grounds to be resolved.

Examining the Indian people on their own terms.

On the Aurangzeb question there is unanimity of opinion across the political divide. Let us leave alone the fringe elements of the BJP, and the Sikhs. What does the supreme patron of Marxist historians, and the most Nehruvian of Nehruvian socialists, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru himself have to say of Aurangzeb?

“The last of the so-called ‘Grand Mughals’, Aurungzeb, tried to put back the clock, and in this attempt stopped it and broke it up.”

Also,

“When Aurungzeb began to oppose [the syncretism of earlier Mughal rulers] and suppress it and to function more as a Moslem than an Indian ruler, the Mughal Empire began to break up.”

For the Indian people, the debate ends here with Nehru’s judgment. It is best Truschke confines her work to esoteric tomes of historical research where it can rest in peace, and enlighten those that care to recall the Mughals. The used book shops in Bangalore, inundated with unsold copies of the book under review (despite being priced at a little less than a dollar), speak volumes for the futility of her attempts to influence public opinion in India.

What then is Aurangzeb’s true legacy?

Every human being great or small is remembered for what she or he leaves behind. The legacy could be physical or intellectual. Often an individual is judged by the quality of his successor. By all these yardsticks Aurangzeb fails.

He left his grand capital city of Delhi and roamed the Deccan like a mad man trying to subdue the Marathas, and the wily Sultans of the Deccan. In the twenty five years he spent away from Delhi, the city saw a pitiable decline into a “ghost town in his absence and lost a significant portion of its population”, until as Truschke herself observes, “The rooms of the Red Fort grew dusty, unfit to be viewed by visiting dignitaries.”

His victories over the Deccan Sultans were pyrrhic at best. The Sultans of Bijapur and Golconda capitulate after long and costly sieges. However they dodge and delay the payment of tribute. They cajole, co-opt, bribe, and corrupt the Mughal officials, and continue to function much as before (see Waldemar Hansen, The Peacock Throne). The Mughal treasury gains little from these costly campaigns. The Empire is already fraying at the edges.

Fearing rebellion he held all his living sons in some kind of confinement with him. They grew up unfit to govern, held in contempt by their father, and other noblemen alike.

On his death, the greatest Empire of its time, one that rivalled the Ottoman, and the Safavid empires, and dwarfed the nations of Europe, crumpled in a matter of years. In the twelve years of his demise, five Mughal kings ruled over Delhi. The provinces had begun to break up.

Just King or not, he was certainly a failed King. Hindustan deserved better.

  

Mapping the Great Game by Riaz Dean

 Also Called the ‘Tournament of Shadows’

The East India Company, was a joint stock company, listed on the London Stock Exchange, constituted to carry out ‘quiet trade’ in India and the East Indies. However, by a freak incident, it blundered into administration and governance following the Battle of Buxar in 1764, when it received the ‘Diwani’ (the right to collect revenue) from the Emperor Shah Alam II. How would you collect land revenue (property tax in current parlance) if you did not know the lay of the land? The answer lay in the Great Trigonometric Survey (GTS) of the Indian peninsula, by a technique known as ‘triangulation’. A certain Lambton- an undistinguished Company soldier, started the Survey in 1802, with the objective of determining the latitude and longitude of all major points in the subcontinent. Underlying the GTS, was the Topographic Survey as the country was not flat like a table top. At lower level still lay the revenue survey- the survey of agricultural land holdings. This last survey was the least sophisticated, but the most useful to the Company bent upon maximizing the collection of land revenue.

What is The Great Game?

Readers of this review in India, may take some vicarious pleasure in knowing that most wars fought in Europe in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were centered around the idea of invading India! By the late eighteenth century, the Company had begun to consolidate its rule over major parts of India. The frontiers of Russia, Britain’s bitter enemy, lay 2000 miles away from the Afghan frontier. Located in the area intervening the frontiers of the two empires were the Central Asian Khanates. Ruled by the sword of Islam, abhorrent of new knowledge, hostile to foreigners, ignorant of the rapidly changing world outside, these Khanates were a medieval anachronism who survived on the trade of Russian and Persian slaves. The two adversaries eyed this vast territory from their distant frontiers. Both sent spies to survey the area covertly. Eighteenth century spies were polyglots: soldiers, explorers, surveyors, geologists, archeologists, botanists, collectors, traders, mendicants, linguists, ambassadors- all rolled into one. These shadowy figures spent years on uncharted roads, risking disease, detection, capture, imprisonment and death. Many perished, others earned fame. The paths of the dramatis personae from both Britain and Russia, often crossed paths, they competed with each other, and many times cultivated strange camaraderie. The British called this The Great Game, and the Russians called it The Tournament of Shadows.

What is the connection between the GTS and The Great Game?

Once the Great Trigonometric Survey was completed within the Company territory, it was extended into the domain of princely states and surrounding friendly kingdoms such as the Punjab, Kashmir, Leh, and Nepal. But the problem remained beyond these boundaries from where the Russian threat was expected. Successive Tsars from Paul (1796-1801) to Alexander III (1881-1894) waved the red rag of an Indian invasion to the British bull, sending the latter into paroxysms of military insanity. The British adopted a policy of surrounding their Indian empire with friendly buffer states. In trying to install friendly regimes in Afghanistan, the British fought two disastrous wars (see my review of the book ‘Balochistan, the British and the Great Game’ by T.A. Heathcote), in each of which they lose a whole army and return to the very point they started. The other route the Russians could take to invade India is from the north crossing over from the Tien Shan mountain ranges and the Pamirs. To seal these passages, these areas had to be surveyed, and regimes changed to establish friendly buffer states; those that can engage the enemy much before they get to the gates of India. This means more wars: the campaigns of Hunza, Chitral, and Tibet, not to speak of the two elaborate Forsyth missions to Yarkhand in Chinese Turkestan. Much of this is well documented in the Great Game literature.

Relevance of the Current Book

While Central Asia and the trans-Himalayas were closed to Westerners, given the hostility of local rulers to Europeans, they were open to Indians and the hill tribes who trod the trade routes routinely carrying goods deep into Chinese Turkestan, the forbidden city of Lhasa, and to a lesser extent even the Central Asian Khanates. When Montgomerie came to head the GTS, after the tenure of his better known predecessors Lambton and Everest, he proposed the idea of utilizing literate natives to survey the buffer ground closed to Europeans. Literate natives, generally teachers- pandits in contemporary parlance, of both religions were recruited, and trained in the art and science of surveying. They kept distance by walking in measured strides and keeping count of their strides using the teller beads of a pilgrim. They hid their notes in prayer wheels. They concealed their survey equipment in their staff. They used mercury to mark contours, thermometers to determine the boiling point of water and estimate the height above sea level. They went as pilgrims, traders and mendicants. They went on the road for years at a time. If they were discovered, arrested and executed, no Government took responsibility for their actions. If they returned triumphant with crucial survey data, and military intelligence, they received no accolades, only some money and pension. These were the men who played the Great Game at the edge of civilization. Dean’s book is perhaps the very first in the Great Game literature to bring the moving story of the Pandits to the reading public. For this reason alone the book is recommended reading, for those interested in the history of the period.  

Aside from the chapters related to the methodology of the GTS, and the biography of the Pandits, Dean brilliantly encapsulates the two Afghan wars of the nineteenth century, and the Tibetan campaign of Francis Young Husband in separate chapters. For those who do not have the time to read 500 page-long books on each of these campaigns, this book provides excellent summaries.