The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate

by Abraham Eraly

  Rebellion would however erupt again and again in Bengal during the reigns of the latter sultans, and the region would remain in a state of turbulence throughout the entire history of the Sultanate. And so would several other provinces of the empire. The realms of Hindu rajas in the Indo-Gangetic Plain were also always in turmoil. Soon after Aibak’s death, several of the rajas broke free from the control of the Sultanate and assumed belligerent postures, so they had to be subjugated all over again. In all this, the problems that Iltutmish faced were typical of the problems that the sultans would face all through the history of the Delhi Sultanate. The character of Delhi Sultanate during its entire history was more like that of a military occupation than that of an established state, so its authority had to be periodically reasserted through military action.

  ILTUTMISH WAS ABLE to overcome most of the problems he faced and re-establish the royal authority over all the lands over which Aibak had ruled. There was even some territorial expansion under him, into Madhya Pradesh, so that his empire extended right across North India, from Indus in the west to Brahmaputra in the east. Iltutmish also managed to keep his turbulent Turkish nobles under reasonable subordination, and he introduced a fair amount of decorum in the royal court, along the lines of the Persian court etiquette, in the place of the casualness that had been the norm there before him.

  These reforms of Iltutmish raised the stature of the sultan well above that of the nobles. But what was gain for the sultan was loss for the nobles. They had traditionally enjoyed a near equal status with the sultan, but now they were his servitors. Their loss was not so much of power as of status, but status was as important to them as power. The top nobles of the empire then formed an informal league called The Forty, to countervail the supremacy of the sultan. All the great fiefs of the empire, as well as all the highest offices in the government and the army, were held by these nobles, and they would play, from behind the throne, a crucial role in the affairs of the Delhi Sultanate for many years.

  The quarter century long reign of Iltutmish was one of substantial achievements, in recognition of which he was honoured by the Caliph by sending to him a robe of honour, and by issuing an edict designating him as Sultan of India. The Qutb Minar, the colossal victory tower in Delhi, today stands as a fitting monument to the great sultan—though the construction of the tower was begun by Aibak, he had built only its bottom storey; it was Iltutmish who completed the edifice.

  Iltutmish enjoyed as high a reputation for benevolence, as for administrative efficiency and martial prowess. ‘It is firmly believed that no king so benevolent, so sympathising, and so respectful to the learned and to elders as he was’ had ever ruled the empire, states Siraj. And Ibn Battuta, the Moroccan scholar-traveller who was in India in the fourteenth century, adds: ‘He was just, pious and virtuous. Among his noteworthy characteristics was the zeal with which he endeavoured to redress wrongs, and to render justice to the oppressed.’ Symbolic of this was the great bell that Iltutmish set up at the entrance of the royal palace, which people could ring to draw the sultan’s attention and seek justice. ‘When the sultan heard the bell, he immediately inquired into the case and gave satisfaction to the complainant,’ records Battuta.

  Unfortunately, the sultan was beset with several personal misfortunes in the last phase of his life. His eldest and favourite son, crown prince Nasir-ud-din Mahmud, died in Bengal at this time under mysterious circumstances. There was even an assassination attempt on the sultan at this time, when a band of Ismailis stormed into the Great Mosque in Delhi during the Friday prayers, and cut through the congregation towards the sultan, who barely managed to escape before the would-be assassins reached him. A few months later, while he was conducting a campaign against the turbulent Khokars of Punjab, he was stricken with a serious illness, and had to be carried back to Delhi on a litter.

  As his life was ebbing away, the courtiers urged him to nominate a successor, so as to avert the horrors of a disputed succession. Iltutmish then named his eldest daughter Raziya as his successor. ‘The sultan,’ writes Siraj, ‘discerned in her countenance the signs of power and bravery, and, although she was a girl and lived in seclusion, … [the sultan] put her name in writing as the heir of the kingdom, and successor to the throne.’ And when the courtiers demurred about this on the ground that Raziya was a woman, Iltutmish told them: ‘My sons are devoted to the pleasures of youth, and not one of them is qualified to be the king … After my death you will find that there is no one more competent to guide the state than my daughter.’

  THE SULTAN’S CHOICE of Raziya for the throne was not merely an expression of sentiment, but of sound judgement as well, for the princess was a very capable woman, and had a good amount of administrative experience, as Iltutmish had often left her in charge of the government when he was away on military campaigns, and she had, according to Siraj, exercised royal authority with great dignity. Still, Iltutmish’s choice of her for the throne was unconventional. Even though there were a few instances in Arab history of women playing an open role in politics, and even leading armies into battle, the normal practice in Islamic societies was for royal women, however ambitious and able they were, to play politics only from behind the harem screen, and not openly. Not surprisingly, the Delhi nobles abhorred the idea of being subservient to a woman, and on the death of Iltutmish they disregarded his choice and placed his eldest surviving son, Rukn-ud-din Firuz, on the throne.

  Ironically, even in choosing Firuz, what the nobles in effect got was a woman’s rule, and that too of a petty, vindictive and vicious woman, for Firuz had no interest in ruling, and he left all the power to his mother, Shah Turkan, a low-born former handmaid of Iltutmish. Firuz was entirely feckless. His only virtue was generosity, but even that he turned into a vice by his excesses. He was ‘a very generous and handsome king, full of kindness and humanity … No king in any reign had ever scattered gifts, robes of honour, and grants in the way he did,’ writes Siraj. ‘But all his lavishness sprang from his inordinate addiction to sensuality, pleasure and conviviality. He was so entirely addicted to revelry and debauchery that he often bestowed his honours and rewards on bands of singers, buffoons and catamites. He scattered his riches to such a heedless extent that he would ride out drunk upon an elephant through the streets and bazaars, throwing tankas of red gold around him for the people to pick up and rejoice over.’

  Meanwhile Shah Turkan, ‘in blind fury and vindictiveness’, set about avenging the indignities that she had suffered in the royal harem at the hands of the high-born wives of Iltutmish, by putting some of them to death in an ignominious manner, and by subjecting others to various gross humiliations. She even blinded a young son of Iltutmish and had him later put to death, fearing that he might grow up to be a threat to Firuz. She also hatched a plot to kill Raziya. In that environment of gross misrule several provincial governors broke out in rebellion, and when Firuz marched out against them, Raziya cleverly manipulated public sentiment in Delhi and incited a popular uprising against Shah Turkan. The people of Delhi, writes Siraj, ‘rose and … seized the royal palace and made the mother of the sultan a prisoner.’ And when Firuz, deserted by many of his officers, returned to Delhi, he too was imprisoned, and presently put to death. The reign of Firuz, according to Siraj, lasted just six months and twenty-eight days.

  RAZIYA WAS THEN proclaimed the sultan by public acclaim. According to Isami, a mid-fourteenth century chronicler, when Firuz was overthrown, and the nobles were discussing to whom they should give the crown, Raziya, ‘waved her scarf from a window and said to them, *‘Here I am, the daughter of his majesty; the crown befits my head. It was I whom the king had chosen as his heir-apparent … Since you set the crown on the head of another person against the king’s orders, you have came to grief … [Give the crown to me for a few years to test my ability.] Should I acquit myself as a ruler better than a man, you might keep me on the throne. Should you see things otherwise, you may remove the crown from my head and give it to whomsoever you p
lease … [On hearing Raziya, the nobles concluded that] a daughter is better than an ill-bred son. Many a woman has been the vanquisher of men in battle; many a man has owed his position to a woman. If this daughter of the king is raised to the throne … she would prove to be better than the sons of the king.’ So they offered the throne to Raziya. And in November 1236 she ascended the throne, assumed the title Raziya-ud-din, and issued coins bearing that title.

  But Raziya’s accession was resented by some of the provincial governors, who then threateningly converged on Delhi with their armies. But Raziya managed to sow dissension among the governors, so the confederacy collapsed before it could do any harm, and the confederate nobles scattered. Several of the fleeing nobles were then captured and executed by royal officers. Raziya’s energy and decisiveness in dealing with the crisis earned the admiration of several of the vacillating nobles, and won them over to her side.

  Raziya then broke free from the conventional constraints of harem ladies, and one day three years after her accession, ‘threw off the dress and veil of women, put on a tunic and cap, and thus appeared in public. When she rode on elephant all men clearly saw her,’ records Siraj. And ‘she rode on horseback as men ride, armed with a bow and quiver, and surrounded by courtiers. She did not veil her face,’ adds Battuta.

  These practices of Raziya were most offensive to the orthodox Muslim nobles of the Sultanate, who were under the sway of ancient prejudices, and they decided to oust her. But they bided their time, waiting for an opportunity or excuse to overthrow her. A good part of Raziya’s persona as sultan involved her posturing as a man. But her biology betrayed her. She could pretend to others to be a man, but not to herself. And it was her yearning for intimate male companionship that eventually brought about her downfall—that, and her attempts to reduce the power of The Forty by selecting several of her principal officers from outside that elite group.

  One of Raziya’s favourite officers was Jalal-ud-din Yaqut, an Abyssinian, whose elevation to the post of Amir-i-Akhur, Master of the Stables, a very high office, was deeply resented by Turkish nobles, especially as she was suspected of having an amorous relationship with him. A conspiracy was then hatched by a group of nobles headed by Aitigin, the Lord Chamberlain, to depose her. They did not however dare to move against her in Delhi, as she enjoyed decisive popular support there. But in the summer of 1240, when she was on a campaign against a provincial rebel in southern Punjab, the conspirators swung into action, killed Yaqut and the other close associates of Raziya who had accompanied her on the campaign, and threw her into prison in the Bhatinda fort. And in Delhi they raised Muiz-ud-din Bahram, Iltutmish’s third son, as sultan.

  But Raziya was only down, not out. Not yet. She now used the lure of high office to entice Altuniya, the governor of Bhatinda, who was her captor, to ally with her. She married him, and together they advanced on Delhi with an army. But fortune no longer favoured her. In the ensuing battle her army was utterly routed by the Delhi forces. ‘Not even one horseman remained with her,’ states Isami. She and Altuniya then fled from the battlefield, but they both fell into the hands of the local people. There are three different versions of what happened then: according to Siraj, both of them were forthwith killed by their captors, but Sirhindi states that their captors ‘despatched them in fetters to the sultan, who put them both to death,’ and Battuta claims that it was a peasant who killed Raziya, to steal her ornaments.

  Raziya had reigned for three years and six days. She was buried on the banks of Yamuna, and a small tomb was erected there to mark her grave. In time the tomb became a place of pilgrimage, as it was ‘considered a place of sanctity,’ states Battuta. ‘Sultan Raziya was a great monarch,’ comments Siraj. ‘She was wise, just, and generous, a benefactor to her kingdom, a dispenser of justice, the protector of her subjects, and the leader of her armies. 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.’

  BAHRAM ON HIS accession assigned, presumably as previously agreed with the nobles, the highest executive power in the Sultanate to Aitigin and designated him as Naib-i-Mamlikat, regent of the kingdom. But if the nobles expected Bahram to be a mere figurehead, a puppet in their hands, they were soon disabused of that fancy. Bahram was a bizarrely schizophrenic person, gentle and shy as well as savage and bloodthirsty. He was, according to Siraj, ‘a fearless, intrepid and sanguinary man … [but was also] shy and unceremonious, and had no taste for gorgeous attire which kings love to wear, nor for the belts, accoutrements, banners and other insignia of royalty.’

  As sultan, it was Bahram’s vicious side that was most evident—he was brutally repressive towards nobles, even towards his benefactors. Thus when Aitigin, who was primarily instrumental in placing him on the throne, offended him by marrying one of his sisters, and took to the practice of keeping an elephant and a band at the entrance of his mansion, as at the entrance of the royal palace, Bahram had him promptly executed. These tyrannical acts of Bahram sent a shiver of anxiety through the nobles—an ‘uneasy feeling spread like an epidemic’ among the nobles, states Siraj. The politics of the Delhi Sultanate at this time was a dizzying whirl of Byzantine conspiracies and counter-conspiracies, in which life was nightmarish for those in the inner circle of power. The only solution to their awful predicament was to depose the sultan, the nobles decided, and one day in the summer of 1242, they, according to Isami, ‘bound him hand and foot in fetters and threw him into prison,’ and later had him murdered. Bahram had reigned for just over two years.

  The nobles then assembled at the tomb of Iltutmish and chose Ala-ud-din Masud, a grandson of Iltutmish, to ascend the throne. Masud at the time of his accession was, according to Siraj, ‘a generous and good-natured prince, possessed of many estimable qualities.’ However, after a year or so of his reign he fell under evil influences, and turned into a bloodthirsty tyrant. He ‘acquired the habit of seizing and killing his nobles,’ reports Siraj. ‘He became confirmed in his cruelty; all his excellent qualities were perverted, and he gave himself up to unbounded licentiousness, pleasure, and hunting … [Moreover] he was given to depravity.’ So in June 1246 the nobles once again seized control of the situation, deposed Masud and threw him into prison, where he soon died, or was murdered. Masud had reigned for four years.

  The nobles then enthroned Iltutmish’s youngest son, Nasir-ud-din Mahmud, an affable and devout prince, who, according to Isami, ‘ruled the country righteously, not like the other foolish princes.’

  {3}

  The Divine Right Sultan

  With the accession of Nasir-ud-din Mahmud began the slow process of restoring the political stability of the Delhi Sultanate, which had been in an awful state of turmoil for a decade after the death of Iltutmish. But Mahmud, a mild and unassertive prince, himself had virtually nothing to do with this transformation. The crucial role in it was played by Ghiyas-ud-din Balban, an eminent Turkish noble, who assumed supreme power in the Sultanate on Mahmud’s accession, and wielded that power for forty years, from 1246 to 1287, first as the regent of Mahmud for two decades, and then, on Mahmud’s death, as sultan, for another two decades. During this entire period there was only one brief interruption in his career, during his regency, when he was out of power for about two years, due to the manoeuvres of his political rivals.

  Mahmud, who was about seventeen years old at the time of his accession, had no aptitude for governing, no interest in it either, and was content to leave that responsibility entirely to Balban. Mahmud ‘was a mild, kind, and devout king, and he passed much of his time making copies of the Holy Book,’ notes Barani, a mid-fourteenth century historian of the Sultanate. Mahmud lived very frugally. It is said that once when his wife asked him to take some money from the treasury and buy a slave girl to do the domestic work in the royal quarters, he rejected the request saying that the treasury belonged to the people, and was not for the personal use of the sultan.

  These retiri
ng, saintly qualities, though commendable in themselves, were unsuited in a sultan in the turbulent environment then existing in the Sultanate. Though Iltutmish had made a serious effort to systematise the administration of the Sultanate, what he achieved was altogether lost in the chaos that followed his death. ‘During the reigns of his sons, the affairs of the country had fallen into confusion,’ observes Barani. ‘The treasury was empty, and the royal court had but little in the way of wealth and horses. The Shamsi slaves had become khans, and they divided among themselves all the wealth and power of the kingdom, so that the country came under their control.’

  But these nobles themselves were divided into various cabals and were forever at each other’s throat. ‘None [of the nobles] would give precedence … to another,’ continues Barani. ‘In possessions and display, in grandeur and dignity, they vied with each other, and in their proud vaunts and boasts every one exclaimed to the other, “What art thou that I am not, and what will thou be that I shall not be?” The incompetence of the sons of Iltutmish, and the arrogance of the Shamsi slaves, thus brought into contempt that throne which had been among the most dignified and exalted in the world.’