Imagining Lahore

  While Aurangzeb becomes a villain in this narrative, his eldest brother, the crown prince Dara Shikoh, becomes a tragic prince, the tolerant scholar-king, who could have steered the fate of the Mughal Empire in a different direction. Dara Shikoh was drawn towards the mystical interpretation of Islam, Sufi, which is eclectic in nature. Writing several years after his assassination, Niccolao Manucci, a former associate of the crown prince, recalled how Dara had no religion—when he was with Muslims he adopted their religion, when he was with Hindus, he praised Hinduism. It is for this reason, Manucci believed, that Dara Shikoh was declared a kafir by the puritan Aurangzeb and beheaded.1

  During the reign of Shah Jahan, while the other princes took up military assignments and political roles in different parts of the empire, the eldest prince remained close to the emperor. Under his influence, the Mughal court, similar to the court of Akbar, became a site for religious debates, where scholars from various religions were invited to expound on philosophical doctrines.

  While Aurangzeb antagonized the Sikhs by assassinating their Guru, Dara Shikoh is believed to have had close ties with Guru Har Rai, the seventh Sikh Guru. According to some narratives, Guru Har Rai had been asked to assist the prince during the war of succession against his brothers; however, Dara Shikoh was captured before the Guru could mobilize his forces.2

  Dara Shikoh had a particular association with Lahore, the city of his spiritual mentor, Mian Mir. He served as the governor of Lahore before being drawn into the battle of succession. In Lahore, Dara Shikoh undertook several building projects and brought back imperial funds to the city, which had dried out after Akbar moved his capital out of the city in 1598.

  Young boys played cricket in the vacant ground in front of the mausoleum. Behind it and on the side of the structure were the remnants of the royal garden that surrounded the grave. Originally there was a water tank around the mausoleum, similar to Jahangir’s famous Hiran Minar at Sheikhupura, a city neighbouring Lahore. In the nineteenth century, when the British built the Mian Mir cantonment, they dismantled the tank and used its bricks for construction.

  Covered in green cloth, the grave of Nadira Begum, the sole wife of Dara Shikoh, is housed in this monument. Several men, most of whom appeared to be drug addicts, were asleep under the shade of the building, next to the grave of the princess. A couple of boys prepared a hashish-filled cigarette in a corner.

  On the southern side of the mausoleum is the fortification that protects the shrine of Mian Mir from puritans who regard the religious practices at such Sufi shrines to be un-Islamic. On the shrine’s walls, posters of its competing guardians were pasted. A giant billboard next to the wall had a picture of one of the guardians next to Nawaz Sharif. These posters perfectly captured the feudalization of such Sufi shrines, which is exploited by puritans, giving a class framework to their religious struggle.

  Nadira Begum died when Dara Shikoh had already lost the war of succession and was on his way to Iran. Even though they had abandoned the city, it was her last wish to be buried in Lahore, the city of Mian Mir. The mausoleum was constructed by a prince in exile, fighting for his life, yet attached to the city by a spiritual bond. The site of this mausoleum was chosen on purpose, so that she remained under the shadow of the Sufi saint even after her death. The architectural alignment of the mausoleum is such that it begins where the shrine ends, so that symbolically the head of the princess lies at the feet of the saint.

  The most iconic building funded by Dara Shikoh in Lahore was the shrine of Mian Mir. He was for long considered the city’s patron saint, before the title shifted to Data Sahib during the colonial era. Mian Mir was a Sufi of the Qadriyyah silsila, an order established by the twelfth-century Islamic scholar Abdul Qadir Gilani. While some claim that Dara Shikoh was a devotee of Mian Mir, others suggest that he was a follower of Mulla Shah, who happened to be a disciple of Mian Mir and a successor to his spiritual seat.3 The pluralism and syncretism of Mian Mir can be gauged from the fact that he was believed to have been a close friend of Guru Arjan, the fifth Sikh Guru. It is popularly believed that when Guru Arjan laid the foundation of Sri Harmandir Sahib (the Golden Temple) in Amritsar, he invited Mian Mir to place the first brick.

  Guru Arjan was assassinated in Lahore at the behest of Emperor Jahangir. Before his execution, he was tortured and placed in a cauldron of boiling water as burning sand was poured on his head. Some narratives suggest that Mian Mir met Guru Arjan and offered to intercede on his behalf with the emperor, which the Guru refused. Another narrative suggests that Mian Mir, looking at the atrocities committed on the Guru, offered to destroy the mighty Mughal Empire through his spiritual power, which the Guru rejected. Mian Mir is believed to have enjoyed cordial relations with the Mughal court and some historical evidence suggests that it was through his intercession that Guru Hargobind, the sixth Sikh Guru, was freed from Mughal imprisonment.4

  Another interesting character who illustrates Dara Shikoh’s syncretism is Sarmad, the naked fakir. An Armenian Jew, Sarmad is believed to have fallen in love with a young Hindu boy on a trading trip to India. Consumed by the ecstasy of love, he shed his clothes and let his hair grow, living like a mendicant in various cities and towns of the Mughal Empire. While in Delhi, stories of this strange mystic reached the ears of the crown prince who, impressed by his philosophical exposition, became his disciple. Sarmad too, like Dara, was declared a heretic and executed by Aurangzeb, soon after Dara Shikoh’s death.

  Not only did Dara Shikoh associate with Sufi scholars and other religious philosophers, he is also reputed to have been an eminent poet and intellectual. Some of his best-known works include Safinat-ul-Auliya, which documents the lives of about 400 mystics along with the essence of their teachings. His book Sakinat-ul-Auliya is a biography of Mian Mir. 5 In his ambition to find some common ground between Hindu and Muslim philosophies, he wrote Majma al-Bahrain (confluence of two oceans) that sought to reconcile Vedantic and Islamic metaphysical doctrines. 6 He also translated several Hindu texts into Persian, including the Bhagavad Gita, the Ramayana, the Yoga Vasistha and the Upanishads. 7 In fact, it was his translation of the Upanishads that was first translated into Latin, through which European scholars gained access to the texts. 8 He also commissioned the translation of several other prominent Hindu texts into Persian, including his dialogues with a Punjabi Hindu mystic from Lahore, Baba Lal. 9

  These dialogues provide an interesting insight into the mind of a prince struggling to reconcile his political ambition with his spiritual goals. This is a theme that forms the basis for much of Dara Shikoh’s original work.10 It also lends itself to a simplistic narrative—a Sufi Dara Shikoh up against a fundamentalist Aurangzeb, one tormented by the burden forced upon him, the other politically shrewd and willing to do whatever it took to capture the throne. The implication is that Dara Shikoh was too ‘good’ for the ugly world of politics, destined to lose even before the battle had begun.

  Perhaps the most memorable structure that Dara Shikoh wanted to raise in Lahore was one that was never completed. Sandstone had already been brought from Jaipur and plans had been prepared to lay a splendid pathway connecting Lahore Fort with the shrine of Mian Mir. This was to be Dara Shikoh’s ultimate expression of devotion to his spiritual mentor. Before work could begin on the project, the war of succession broke out and the sandstone remained untouched.

  When Aurangzeb came to power, he wanted to put the sandstone to some use. He decided to construct a splendid mosque, on the pattern of the glorious Jama Masjid of Delhi built by his father, the dethroned Shah Jahan. Thus Badshahi Masjid of Lahore came into being, on the orders of Emperor Aurangzeb, at a cost of 5 lakh rupees, with the sandstone procured by Dara Shikoh to honour his Sufi mentor.11

  These two structures, one that was planned and the other that was constructed, are reflective of the divergent religious sensibilities of the two princes—Dara Shikoh, a Sufi at heart, for whom the shrine of Mian Mir was the ultimate expression of his religiosity, and Auran
gzeb, the puritanical Muslim, for whom it was not the shrine but the mosque that was a gateway to the Divine. The story of Badshahi Masjid of Lahore is the story of Dara Shikoh and Aurangzeb, of a shrine and a mosque and competing interpretations of religion.

  Dara Shikoh’s death was lamented in Lahore, just as it was in Delhi. This grief, for a little while at least, took the form of resentment against the new structure, Badshahi Masjid. The mosque seemed a reminder of the fallen prince and the ‘usurper’ brother. Some local narratives suggest that for several years after its construction, people refused to offer prayers there.12 The memory of the unconstructed pathway gradually receded but some memories of Dara Shikoh remained alive. This narrative remains popular even today in certain intellectual circles in Lahore.

  While in the popular narrative, Aurangzeb’s ‘usurpation’ of the throne from the crown prince is depicted as a sign of his treachery, there are a few historians who counter this simplistic account. For them, Dara Shikoh’s appointment as crown prince was part of the problem. However, all of these narratives agree that Aurangzeb was perhaps the most politically astute and battle-hardened of his brothers, while Dara Shikoh, despite being the crown prince, was the least prepared in statecraft.

  Primogeniture was not really part of the Mughal ethos. Shah Jahan himself was Jahangir’s third son and much like his own sons, had rebelled against his father. By the time Shah Jahan became emperor, it was quite clear that ascendancy to the Mughal throne would be contested, with sons rebelling against fathers, and brothers killing brothers. Even within the Timurid tradition, from where the Mughals traced their descent, the concept of competition between princes for the throne was an accepted convention.13 In this context, the title of crown prince did not hold much significance. Aurangzeb’s challenge to Dara Shikoh was therefore almost a part of Mughal heritage.

  While Aurangzeb and the other princes were given important military assignments far away from the capital, Dara Shikoh, being the favourite son, was kept close. Despite holding political and military posts, he lacked the actual field experience that his brothers had. This was to play a crucial role during the battle of succession.

  When Dara Shikoh had been given a crucial military assignment—to secure the region of Kandahar—he had failed miserably. Historical records suggest how, instead of listening to the advice of his commanders, he heeded the advice of soothsayers and spiritual leaders, making decisions that turned out to be catastrophic for the Mughal forces. Not many in the Mughal nobility were convinced of Dara Shikoh’s ability to transform into an effective ruler.

  This was compounded by the fact that Dara Shikoh had managed to rub several noblemen the wrong way with his haughty behaviour and lack of interest in their advice. In 1658, at a crucial point in the all-important Battle of Samugarh fought between Dara Shikoh on one side and Aurangzeb and Murad, the youngest brother, on the other, Khalil Allah, a commander of Dara’s, betrayed him for his alleged intimate relationship with his wife.14

  So while Dara Shikoh had religious views that were beyond doubt much more tolerant than his brother’s, it does not necessarily mean that Dara would have made a more effective ruler or that the Hindu nobility would have unconditionally supported him over his brother. Several factors other than religious ideology determined the formation or rupture of political alliances. Even before Aurangzeb had secured the throne, many members of the nobility, Hindus and Muslims included, believed that given his military background and political shrewdness, he was the most able heir to the Mughal throne. It doesn’t seem as if Aurangzeb’s puritanism deterred his potential allies or that Dara Shikoh’s appreciation of Hindu philosophy won him much support during the crucial war of succession.

  Given Dara Shikoh’s lack of political and military acumen, there is no reason to believe that the Mughal Empire would have lasted longer than it did had he succeeded to the throne. The campaign of Kandahar had clearly proven that while Dara shared Akbar’s intellectual curiosity, he lacked the military and administrative skills that made his forebear such a successful sovereign.

  Assured of their political and economic interests, Aurangzeb formed an alliance with the Rajputs during the war of succession.15 Subsequently many members of the Rajput nobility, such as Jai Singh and Jaswant Singh, were accorded higher positions in the court of Aurangzeb, higher than any Hindu since the days of Emperor Akbar.16 The reintroduction of jizya was opposed more by the working and trader classes in urban centres than the Hindu nobility.17 The latter’s association with the Mughal court actually increased after 1679, challenging the conventionally held belief that the reimposition of jizya put Aurangzeb at odds with his Hindu allies.18

  Popularly, the reimposition of jizya is seen as evidence of an attempt to convert the majority population of his empire to Islam. While it is true that Aurangzeb justified the tax in the name of sharia or religious law, it not entirely fair to see it as an attempt to enforce Islamic law on a non-Muslim population in an effort to convert them. Even though in official pronouncements the tax was explained as a feature of Islamic law, there is reason to believe that there were economic compulsions behind it. The decision to reimpose jizya was taken in 1679, almost two decades after Aurangzeb had secured the Mughal throne for himself. It is suggested that the empire was in dire straits economically at the end of the 1670s due to several conflicts—in the Deccan, the north-east, with Afghan tribesmen, with the Rathors and the Sisodias.19 Jizya, in this context, would have provided a much-needed infusion into the royal treasury.

  Also, the Marathas were exerting their strength and several kingdoms, such as Bijapur and Golconda, were aligning with them. Through his military operations in the Deccan, Aurangzeb wanted to destroy this alliance but it did not go according to plan and the Marathas remained undaunted. In these trying times, the emperor wanted to invoke religious passion among his Muslim subjects and get them to rally behind him. The reintroduction of jizya was an attempt in that direction.20

  Another problem with the narrative of the tolerant Sufi versus the fundamentalist puritan is the tacit assumption that Dara Shikoh, given his patronage of and interest in Hindu philosophy, was an exception. The comparison between Dara and Akbar implies that other Mughals were not as tolerant or encouraging of non-Muslim philosophy. On the contrary, there is enough historical evidence that Dara Shikoh, rather than being an exception, was a product of Mughal ethos.

  While Akbar began the process of patronizing Hindu scholars and artists, the tradition was upheld by his successors. Jahangir patronized Hindu scholars, poets and artists such as Jadrup Gossain, Rai Manohar Lal, Bishnu Das and Buta or Briksha Rai. Shah Jahan’s reign is described as a vibrant era in the history of Hindi language and literature.21 A few prominent writers and poets connected with his court were Jagannath Pandit, Sundar Das, Chintamani and Kavindra Acharya. This patronage of Hindu scholars writing in Hindi and Persian continued during the reign of Aurangzeb. Some famous poets and writers who received his support were Birdas, Bhushan, Brinda, Wamat Khattri, Rai Brindaban and Ishwardas Nagar.22

  There is little reason to believe that many, or most, of Aurangzeb’s policies were shaped by his religious worldview. For example, Aurangzeb had Dara Shikoh declared a heretic in order to justify his execution. It needs to be borne in mind that Dara was a particularly popular prince and when he was brought to Delhi for his trial, ordinary city folk came out on to the streets to catch a last glimpse of their prince. Dara’s alleged heresy was, in this context, a political tool that Aurangzeb used to construct a narrative around the prince to justify his execution and garner some support for himself, at least from the conservative segment of society. It was a way to get rid of his opponent.

  Sarmad, the naked fakir, was also executed because of his political support of the defeated prince, rather than his heterodox religious doctrine. At a time when the old emperor was still alive and a popular prince was at the mercy of a new, self-declared emperor, Aurangzeb might have believed that by aligning his politics with religion,
he could strengthen his control over the empire.

  Most of Aurangzeb’s actions can be explained by these political factors. For example, Aurangzeb is accused of destroying Hindu temples, which is correct but needs to be understood in its context. By ordering the destruction of certain Hindu temples, Aurangzeb was following a long-established tradition of the subcontinent that preceded Muslim rule. Historians such as Romila Thapar and Satish Chandra have identified how prominent Hindu temples were political organizations, closely affiliated with the ruling class of the region. Thus, in cases of rebellion against a king or during times of expansion of the empire, these temples, associated with the ruling class of that particular region, were targeted. It was not just Muslim rulers but also Hindu and Jain kings who engaged in this practice.23 Therefore, to attribute this tradition to the iconoclastic zeal of a fanatical Muslim emperor would not be an accurate historical reading of events.

  This perception is reinforced by the writings and the orders of the kings themselves, who seem to justify the destruction of the temples in the name of Islam. Recent scholarship has dismissed these sources as rhetoric, part of a state-building process, seeking to establish justification for an autocratic ruler’s actions.

  Analysed in this context, it becomes easier to comprehend why the emperor would order the destruction of certain temples, ignore others, appreciate some and even provide grants to others. While Aurangzeb sought to demolish the temples in Marwar to punish the rebellion of its rulers, he ordered no such thing in the Deccan even when he conquered new areas.24

  This shows that there were political considerations at play, and there was no indiscriminate destruction of non-Muslim shrines and temples to satisfy some sort of fanatical religious zeal. There is documentary evidence to suggest that Aurangzeb renewed land grants held by Hindu temples in Mathura, the Jangam Bari Math in Varanasi and Balaji’s temple in Chitrakoot.25 There is also evidence of him offering gifts to temples, as also a Sikh gurdwara in Dehradun.26 He is sometimes falsely accused of destroying the temples at the caves in Ellora. This is not only untrue, but he in fact praised them in his writing, attributing them to the graciousness of Allah.27 Barbara Metcalf, a contemporary historian with a specialization in South Asia, has pointed out that during his reign Aurangzeb built more temples than he destroyed.28