The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate

by Abraham Eraly

  Ala-ud-din’s objective in his new campaign against Warangal was to gather booty and obtain tribute, so he instructed Malik Kafur that if the raja surrendered his treasure, elephants and horses, and agreed to send a yearly tribute, he ‘should accept these terms and not press the raja too hard.’ The Sultanate army this time sensibly took the traditional western route, and was on the way able to secure assistance and reinforcements from Ramadeva of Devagiri. The raja, notes Barani, ‘sent men forward to all villages on the route, as far as the border of Warangal, with orders for the collection of fodder and provisions for the army, and warning that if even a bit of rope was lost [by the army] they would have to answer for it. He sent on all stragglers to rejoin the army, and he added to it a force of Marathas, both horse and foot. He himself accompanied the march several stages, and then took leave and returned.’

  The raja of Warangal was reputed to have a huge army, and his fort had, apart from its stone walls, a strong earthen wall around it, which was so well-compacted that stones from catapults rebounded from it like nuts, according to medieval sources. The fort was also girded by two deep moats, one around the earthen wall, and the other around the fort itself. Predictably, the Sultanate army faced stubborn resistance there, but they eventually managed to fill up the outer moat, then breach the earthen wall, and storm the main fort. The raja then surrendered, and, according to Barani, presented to Kafur ‘100 elephants, 7000 horses, and large quantities of jewels and valuables. He (Kafur) also took from him a written engagement to annually send treasure and elephants [to Delhi].’

  Among the treasures that Kafur got in Warangal was a fabulous diamond, which Amir Khusrav describes as ‘unparalleled in the whole world.’ It probably was the famed Koh-i-Nur (Mountain of Light) diamond, which the Mughal emperor Babur got in Agra when he captured the city in 1526, and which eventually, after it changed hands several times, became part of the British crown jewels in 1877, when Queen Victoria was proclaimed the empress of India. Babur estimated the value of the diamond to be so high as to be sufficient to feed the whole world for two days.

  KAFUR RETURNED TO Delhi in June 1310, bearing very many camel loads of treasure, and was accorded a grand reception by the sultan. But he was too restless by nature to remain inactive in Delhi. So in November 1310, five months after he returned to Delhi, he again set out with his army, this time for South India. Advancing through Devagiri he headed for Dvarasamudra in Karnataka, the capital of Hoysala king Vira Ballala. The raja did not have the strength to oppose the invasion, so he prudently sued for peace, agreed to surrender his treasures, and send an annual tribute to Delhi. ‘Thirty-six elephants, and all the treasures of the place fell into the hands of the victors,’ reports Barani.

  Kafur then set out for the Tamil country. He met with virtually no resistance there, as the local rajas and chieftains, realising, from the experience of the other peninsular kingdoms, the futility of resistance, fled on Kafur’s approach, leaving their towns and temples to be freely plundered by the invading army. Though Kafur’s progress this time was hampered by torrential rains and heavy floods, he nevertheless resolutely continued his southward thrust, plundering and ravaging the temple cities of Chidambaram and Srirangam, as well as the Pandyan capital Madurai. He then swerved eastward and headed for the temple town of Rameswaram on the shore of the Bay of Bengal, there to sack the town and pillage the temple. The Khalji army, writes Amir Khusrav, advanced to ‘the shore of the sea as far as Lanka, and spread the odour of the amber-scented faith.’

  This was the farthest point that any army from North India had ever penetrated into South India, and Kafur is said to have built a mosque in Rameswaram to mark that historic feat. Kafur’s passage through South India was quick and easy, and he had to fight no major battles there, so he could return to Delhi in late October 1311, after having been away for less than one year. And he was once again received by Ala-ud-din with great honour, in a special durbar. Kafur had brought with him an immense booty—‘612 elephants, 96,000 mans of gold, several boxes of jewels and pearls, and 20,000 horses,’ according to Barani. The quantity of the booty brought by Kafur astonished the people of Delhi. ‘No one,’ comments Barani, ‘could remember anything like it, nor was there anything like it recorded in history.’

  The last major military campaign of Ala-ud-din’s reign was against Devagiri, where Ramadeva’s successor Singhana had turned refractory, and had defaulted the payment of tribute. So in 1313 the sultan sent Malik Kafur into Devagiri, and in the ensuing battle he defeated and killed the raja, and annexed the kingdom to the Sultanate. From Devagiri, Kafur then made forays into Telingana, Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, to reassert the supremacy of Delhi over the South Indian kingdoms. Kafur spent about three years in the peninsula, but was recalled to Delhi in 1315 due to Ala-ud-din’s rapidly failing health.

  These were the major military campaigns of Ala-ud-din’s reign. Apart from these, there were several minor campaigns also during his reign. But the objective of Ala-ud-din in most of these campaigns was to gain political dominance, to gather plunder and to secure tribute, not to annex territory. His campaigns made Ala-ud-din absolutely the dominant ruler of India, but apart from Gujarat, Rajasthan, Malwa and Devagiri, very little new territory was brought under the rule of the Sultanate during his reign. In most cases, the defeated rulers were reinstated on their throne with honour, on their promise of paying regular tribute to the sultan. In this, as in everything else he did, Ala-ud-din was entirely pragmatic, as he found no merit in annexing faraway lands that he could not effectively govern.

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  Radical Reformer

  Ala-ud-din ‘shed more innocent blood than ever any Pharaoh was guilty of,’ states Barani. But this comment is more an expression of Barani’s hyper-orthodox prejudice against the unorthodox sultan than an objective assessment. Though Ala-ud-din was indeed a sanguinary despot, that was not a unique trait in him, but a common characteristic of most Delhi Sultans. What distinguished Ala-ud-din was not his despotism or brutality, but his radical and futuristic political and economic reforms, which greatly enhanced the power and efficiency of the government, and even promoted the welfare of the people.

  Ala-ud-din was a daringly original and in many respects a startlingly modern reformer. Though he was illiterate, many of his reforms showed excellent grasp of economic planning and administrative control. And on the whole his reforms and regulations, particularly his market regulations, were greatly beneficial to people. A Sufi sage would later ascribe philanthropic motives to Ala-ud-din’s market regulations, but that is a hyperbole. It is not that Ala-ud-din was indifferent to the welfare of the people—indeed, some of his statements specifically and strongly express his concern for the public weal—but the basic objective of all his policies and actions was to make the government more efficient and strong, and thus to consolidate and enhance royal power.

  The sultan in the early years of his reign was beset by a number of political and socio-economic problems, and that convinced him that there was something very wrong with the polity of the Sultanate, and that sweeping reforms were imperative. He therefore decided to investigate, together with his advisors, the causes of the problems he faced, and to find efficient solutions for them—not just to solve the problems as they arose, but to prevent such problems from ever again arising. And then, having determined the causes of the problems faced by the state, he took a number of sagacious policy decisions, and executed them with relentless resolve, so that not only did peace and security as never before prevail in the empire, but also his subjects by and large lived a more prosperous, contended and secure life than at any other time in the history of the Delhi Sultanate. ‘During the whole period of Sultan Ala-ud-din’s reign, the situation of the county was very good and prosperous,’ concedes Barani. ‘Administration was carried on efficiently and successfully.’

  In all his policies and actions Ala-ud-din was entirely open-minded and pragmatic, unrestrained by political conventions and precedents, as wel
l as by religious prescripts. ‘Oh, doctor, thou art a learned man, but thou has had no experience,’ he once told a kazi who presumed to advise him on politics. ‘I am an unlettered man, but I have seen a great deal.’ Practicality was the sole guide of Ala-ud-din. And he was entirely unsentimental in this, and would not allow even his tribal or blood relationships sway his judgements in any way.

  ALA-UD-DIN WAS UTTERLY ruthless in the pursuit of his goals, and had no qualms whatever in slaughtering thousands of people in cold blood if that was necessary to consolidate his power and achieve his goals. Thus when a conspiracy of New Muslims against him was discovered, he unhesitatingly ordered the total extermination of the tribe. ‘Twenty or thirty thousand New Muslims were killed, of whom probably only a few had any knowledge [of the intended revolt],’ reports Barani. ‘Their houses were plundered, and their wives and children turned out.’

  Riots were fairly common in Delhi at this time, but Ala-ud-din put an end to them by dealing with the rioters with deliberate ferocity. ‘By the sultan’s command every rioter was most tenaciously pursued, and put to death,’ reports Barani. ‘Their heads were sawn in two and their bodies divided.’ From Ala-ud-din’s point of view, this was the right and proper thing to do, for it produced the desired result. ‘After these punishments, breaches of peace were never heard of in the city,’ concedes Barani.

  Muslim religious leaders generally condemned many of the policies and actions of Ala-ud-din as irreligious and fiendish. But the sultan was unmoved by such excoriations. He, according to Barani, ‘held that matters of administration have nothing to do with religious laws.’ Even in his personal life Ala-ud-din was hardly religious. ‘The sultan,’ censures Barani, ‘said no prayers, did not attend the Friday prayer in the mosque … He was not careful at all about prayers and religious fasting.’

  Once when a kazi expounded to him what was lawful and unlawful according to Islamic conventions, Ala-ud-din told him, ‘When troopers do not appear at the muster, I order three years pay to be taken from them. I place wine-drinkers and wine-sellers in pits of incarceration. If a man debauches another man’s wife, I cut off his organ, and the woman I cause to be killed. Rebels … I slay; their wives and children I reduce to beggary and ruin. Extortion I punish with torture … and I keep the extortionist in prison, in chains and fetters, until every jital is restored. Political criminals I confine and chastise. Wilt thou say that all this is unlawful?’

  The kazi then rose from his seat, and moved to the place reserved for suppliants in the durbar hall, and there placed his forehead on the ground in submission and said, ‘My liege! Whether you send me, your wretched servant, to prison, or whether you order me to be cut in two, all these are unlawful, and finds no support in the sayings of the Prophet, or in the exposition of the learned.’

  ‘The sultan,’ records Barani, ‘heard all this and said nothing, but put on his slippers and went into his harem.’ The kazi too then went home. ‘The next day he took the last farewell of all his people, made a propitiatory offering, and performed his ablutions. Thus prepared for death, he proceeded to the court.’ But contrary to general expectation, Ala-ud-din called the kazi forward and honoured him with a ceremonial robe, and presented to him a large sum of money. Strong himself, Ala-ud-din appreciated strength and candour in others. And he said to the kazi: ‘Although I have not studied the Science or the Book, I am a Mussulman of a Mussulman stock. To prevent rebellion, in which thousands perish, I issue such orders as I consider to be for the good of the state and the benefit of the people … I do not know whether this is lawful or unlawful. Whatever I think to be for the good of the state, or suitable for the emergency, that I decree.’

  Self-willed, Ala-ud-din always made up his own mind on all matters, but he also took care to hold detailed consultations with his top officers on all important issues, and to ponder over their views before deciding on what he should do. And he encouraged his courtiers to speak to him frankly. ‘Rest assured that I will not harm you,’ he once told a kazi. ‘Only reply with truth and sincerity to whatever question I may put to you.’

  Ala-ud-din was ruthless, but not thoughtless. And he applied himself unswervingly to the implementation of his policies—he was as meticulous in the execution of his plans, as he was in their conception. Because of all this, most of his reforms were successful, even though many of them were daringly innovative and way ahead of the times.

  ONE OF THE immediate concerns of Ala-ud-din on his accession was to secure the integrity of the empire by effectively dealing with the perennial problem of insurgency plaguing the Sultanate, caused by his ambitious close relatives and top nobles aspiring to usurp the throne, and by provincial governors seeking to establish independent kingdoms. There was also the recurrent problem of subordinate Hindu rajas and chieftains seeking to regain their independence.

  There were four successive insurrections in the early part of Ala-ud-din’s reign, one of which very nearly led to his overthrow and assassination. These crises prompted Ala-ud-din to ponder over what he needed to do to prevent the recurrence of rebellions and to ensure that his government ran smoothly.

  Ala-ud-din then, as usual, held extensive discussions with his councillors—‘for several nights and days,’ according to Barani—to decide on how to deal with the problem of insurgency. He then concluded that there were four basic causes for insurrections: 1/ The sultan’s neglect of public affairs, and his inattention to the activities of his subjects. 2/ Convivial wine parties held by nobles, which were occasions for loose talk and the hatching of conspiracies. 3/ ‘The intimacy, affection, alliances, and intercourse of maliks (military commanders) and amirs (noblemen) with each other, so that if anything happens to one of them a hundred others get mixed up in it.’ 4/ ‘Money, which engenders evil and strife, and brings forth pride and disloyalty. If men had no money, they would attend to their own business, and would never think of riots and revolts, [and would not be able to win the support] of low and turbulent people.’

  After thus deciding on the nature of the problems that the state faced, Ala-ud-din set about devising solutions to them. And these solutions, like much else that he did, were audaciously original and yet eminently practical, though also quite harsh. His first measure was to deprive the people of the material means and the leisure to hatch rebellions, by yoking them to the drudgery of earning their livelihood and preventing them from accumulating wealth. The sultan, reports Barani, ‘ordered that wherever there was a village held by proprietary right, in free gift, or as a religious endowment, it should … be brought back under the exchequer. People were pressed and amerced, money was exacted from them on every kind of pretence. Many were left without any money, till at length it came to pass that excepting maliks and amirs, officials, Multanis (moneylender-traders) and bankers, no one possessed even a trifle of cash. So vigorous was the confiscation that, beyond a few thousand tankas, all the pensions, grants of land and endowments in the country were appropriated [by the state]. The people were all then so absorbed in obtaining the means of living that the name of rebellion was never mentioned.’

  Ala-ud-din’s second measure was to set up an elaborate intelligence network, to gather information on all that was going on in the empire, which he considered to be the absolute prerequisite for running an efficient government. This intelligence gathering was done with such thoroughness that, according to Barani, ‘no one could stir without the sultan’s knowledge, and whatever happened in the houses of nobles, great men, and officials was communicated to the sultan by his reporters. Nor were the reports neglected, for explanations … [on the matter reported] were demanded [from the nobles]. The system of reporting went to such a length that nobles dared not speak aloud even in the largest palaces, and if they had anything to say, they communicated it by signs. In their own houses, night and day, dread of the reports of spies made them tremble. No word or action which could provoke censure or punishment was allowed to transpire. The transactions in the bazaars, the buying and selling, and
the bargains made, were all reported to the sultan by spies.’

  ‘THIRDLY, HE PROHIBITED wine-drinking and wine-selling, as also the use of intoxicating drugs. Dicing also was forbidden … Vintners and gamblers and beer-sellers were turned out of the city,’ reports Barani. The sultan, according to his courtier poet Amir Khusrav, considered wine as ‘the mother of all wickedness,’ and he himself now entirely gave up drinking wine and holding wine parties. All the china and glass vessels in the royal banqueting room were smashed, and jars and casks of wine in the royal cellars were emptied on the road—so much wine was poured into the streets that pools and puddles formed there as in the rainy season, reports Barani.

  To enforce prohibition, Ala-ud-din ordered that ‘taverns should be set on fire, and that drummers should go around proclaiming vigorously that whoever drinks will be punished severely,’ reports Isami. All prohibition violators who were caught were imprisoned. And when jails became filled up with prisoners, which they soon did, a number of them were, according to Barani, confined in ‘pits for the incarceration of offenders dug outside the Badaun gate [of Delhi], which is a great thoroughfare.’ Many died in these pits, and many ‘were taken out half-dead.’

  But nothing could prevent the habitual imbibers from finding some way to circumvent the prohibition rules and gratify their craving. Clandestine distilling and consumption of liquor now became common, and many travelled to the suburbs of Delhi to enjoy their drinks in peace and at leisure. A good amount of liquor was also smuggled into Delhi ‘by hundreds of tricks and devices, and by all sorts of collusion.’ These widespread violations of prohibition rules eventually constrained Ala-ud-din to modify the rules and permit private distillation and drinking of liquor, provided that liquor was not sold or consumed publicly, and that ‘drinking parties were not held.’ Prohibition was the only measure of Ala-ud-din that did not quite succeed.