With faces scarred by the horror they had seen, they stood outside the gates as motionless groups, waiting to see the king. Their accounts were important because it gave the listener a graphic account of their experiences at the hands of the Turks. Their words threw a flood of light on the nature of the man who was their nightmare. After all, they had fled in dread of his superhuman power.
The men explained how cities were looted and delivered to flames by Malik Kafur. But unusually, he mostly did not attack first, as the Turks continued to successfully enslave one king and satrap after another. If they submitted, no harm would come to them on account of their religion. Their temples would not be burnt, neither were they treated with harshness. But if they refused to yield, the war could be devastating. Thus did the kings of Dwarsamudra and Warangal escape the yoke of the Turk and retain their kingdoms.
But for Veera, there was no question of compromise; a traitor had led the invader to their gates. Sundar would insist on the crown and upset any negotiations between him and Malik Kafur. The scenario was bleak. The Turks would own the town following Sundar’s advice. Madurai may escape the torch this time, but would not be a safe place to live in for a long time, for the invader would always look at it with covetous eyes.
Deep down Veera knew what was about to happen. The oracle’s words would come true: he would be defeated neither by man nor woman, yet left facing ruin.
Our northern vassals cannot resist the Turks; they have been far too weakened, he thought with irony. The Pandyan kings had allowed themselves to be surrounded by earthen walls in fear that the satraps would grow too strong and pose a challenge to their leadership. His ancestors had weakened everybody around them, thinking it would make the Pandyans the strongest. But in the end, there was nobody Veera could call to his aid.
The Pandyan war council was of the firm opinion that hostilities had to be avoided between Sundar and Veera. The council had proposed that the whole army should retire south of Madurai, to Paramkunram, a day’s march beyond. Veera could be safe there and yet not too far away. Perhaps, with the defenders so close, the Turks might not do anything rash. Once there, he could also raise more troops while they returned from Lanka. Then Veera made a startling announcement, ‘We do not need to touch the treasury. When I took over from Sundar, he left the treasury intact. I will do the same. The treasures do not belong to us, it belongs to the city.’ He did not tell the council the real reason: Veera did not want the Turks following him for the wealth. He wanted to be left alone to plan his revenge in peace.
It was agreed that the first thing to do was to prepare for the king to move out in secret. If the general population was oblivious to the events at the border, the exit of the king’s family would not be impeded in the scamper to safety. Veera decided to move out before the next sunrise. He handed over the administration of Madurai to his ministers’ council with instructions about governance.
Veera left the town in the early morning with his entourage. But the secrecy could not stifle the rumours in the city and within an hour everybody knew that the palace held no king.
Thirty miles out of Madurai, his procession was halted by the arrival of a delegation carrying fresh news from their northern spies. ‘Your Highness, Prince Sundar and a party of ten are approaching Madurai.’
‘Why is Sundar coming? Is it a trap?’ Veera asked.
‘It seems he realized he made a mistake and now wants to fight Malik Kafur, Your Highness.’
Veera knew that Sundar had believed he was using Malik Kafur for his own ends, while it had been the other way around since the very beginning. Sundar’s fortunes must have been at their lowest ebb. So were his. If Sundar had made his decision three days earlier, a defence could have been organized. But his generals had convinced him with great difficulty that it would be best to retreat ahead of his brother’s arrival with the enemy. The baffled sovereign had evacuated the country, and fled southwards with the notion that it was Sundar he was fighting.
Everything he had held dear was about to be lost, he realized. The treasury would soon fall in the hands of the eunuch, and so would the city he loved. Veera could only shrug his shoulders and continued his march southwards.
CHAPTER 25
THE GATES OF MADURAI
Sundar’s desertion had raised a whole lot of complications for Malik. The capture of Madurai was the loftiest item on his agenda, but the city could no longer be taken by surprise.
The disappointment over Sundar’s escape was assuaged by the raid on the Chidambaram temple. Even though the priests had spirited away the idol and the jewellery, the substantial treasure the temple had yielded had added spirit to the Turks’ flagging mood.
Strangely, Sundar had proved implacable. Malik had assumed that Sundar’s resentment of his brother would overpower the tiny detail of temple looting, yet it hadn’t. Ironically, it was Malik’s lust for gold that facilitated Sundar’s uncontested escape. The capture of Madurai would have been much easier with Sundar by his side, but now that the boulder had begun to roll downhill, he could not stop it.
Sundar’s desertion did not deter him. There was a good chance that the Pandyan king would come to the negotiating table after being alarmed at the information his brother had already conveyed, but Malik did not want him to do so. In a way, he wanted war.
Malik knew the army was on the final leg of its journey, and the men were exhausted and angry. All the loot had so far only enriched the higher-ups in the army and the Sultanate. The common soldier had still not had his fair share of plunder, which would come only when they fought a war. He sighed. All along his path, the vassals had vied with one another in giving him gifts as marks of their friendship. Sundar had given nothing except a promise. But what an empty promise it was!
To top it all, his plans were going awry. The hot climate of the south forced a greater need for water and the Turks camped more often than soldiers on a surprise campaign should.
All the Pandyan towns they crossed were deserted, except for some old and infirm people and a few stray mongrels. The population had lived in security for so many years that they were initially sceptical of any wild rumours. They were hesitant to believe that a horde of terrorizing aliens was descending on them to loot their wealth and enslave their wives and children. But then came the rumour that the king in Madurai had evacuated the city. The rumour drove everybody to a frenzy, as they ran helter-skelter, trying to escape with whatever they could carry.
*
Srirangam was a charming town on the banks of the Cauvery. But all towns looked alike when Malik was through with them. These structures of brick and lime mortar were no match for his fury. The glow of arson and a smoky sky was the inevitable background they left behind. When fires from the heavens did not strike the invader the moment he touched their temples, the people lost heart, for they thought the invader must have supernatural powers.
Malik’s commander had looted a sleeping idol of Vishnu from Srirangam – an idol to which the Hindus had prayed for centuries. It was exquisite, though not of bullion, made of an amalgam of five metals ranging from gold to copper and the precious metals were non-separable.
Leaving a small force to mop up operations at Srirangam, Malik moved straight towards Madurai. Every moment of delay now meant more wealth spirited away to safety or a strengthening of defences of the city. But their speed had slowed down because of the soldiers, who wanted to raze every temple to the ground. When Malik wanted to stop them in the name of delay, Ulugh Khan said, ‘The soldier is not venturing into wars for anything but this. His hatred is his weapon. Even when none of the loot reaches him, he doesn’t rebel because he thinks he is a part of a loftier purpose.’
Malik replied, ‘I can destroy a temple here and there but if these men think that it is their duty to destroy all of them, my lifetime is not enough. I am a conqueror, not a stone mason.’ Robbing a town took an hour, but destroying each temple took nearly a week.
Ulugh Khan had the last word. ‘The grea
test weapon of the Turks has been their animosity to the alien way of life. It is not the king’s greed for land or gold that has won them the wars but the force of this hatred.’ Malik would remember this observation later.
Finally, after twelve days of marching on arid roads where the earth turned red and water got scarce, a lowly soldier spotted the towers of the Meenakshi temple. The sight roused the soldiers. There were loud cheers and a perceptible increase in the speed. Malik dismounted and stared hard at the towers. This was the city he had longed to see and own. It had dominated his dreams for the last year. It was here that he would leave an indelible mark in history.
*
The Vaigai river was not a deep one – the kind that a defender could hope to rest his hopes on. A local person could even identify the sandbanks where the water was no deeper than a knee’s height.
Malik stood at the edge of the river, his seasoned eyes scanning the fort across it. He had thought he would find a heavily fortified city, but he could not have been more wrong. He immediately realized what had happened – precisely what would have happened to Delhi if it had not been constantly raided by the Mongols. The forgotten fortifications showed that the city of Madurai had slumbered in peace for too long. The wall was crumbling into the dried moat and all along it were shanties of wood and thatch hastily thrown together.
A thought suddenly flashed through Malik’s mind: what if the people of Madurai offered stiff resistance to save what is rightfully theirs? Sundar’s warning could have been heeded and he would perhaps find the citizens up in arms. Distant armies could have been summoned to defend the capital. It would be great folly, and a great loss of time, to attack a well-warned enemy, and a general with sagacity would not do it. He turned his eye rapidly to every face of the fort for some signs of defence. His first impression was that the defences were well hidden and he was walking straight into a trap.
Malik watched the city with scorn as he surveyed it in the background of his own preparedness. Was this the legendary city of Madurai that he had heard of? What about the wealth within? Would the legends be misleading here too? He wrinkled his forehead as he thought there had been a terrible mistake. He had believed the rumours that it was the richest city in the subcontinent. But all he could see was a crumbling wall, signs of a city past its prime.
Then the towers caught his attention. He could count fourteen gracing the skyline of Madurai. The temples were built to impress the people of the grandeur and glory of the king. They could have built a wall around their city with so much stone, Malik thought wryly.
Soldiers began to kneel towards Mecca and asked for divine intervention to ensure their triumph the next day. Mullah Amir led them with zest. If Malik kept quiet the mullah would start exhorting the troops once again. He knew what he had to do; he wanted to use the ruse of religious fervour himself. When the prayer ended, Malik raised his voice. The soldiers turned their heads and a speech came forth like thunder from the lips of their general.
‘I want the infidels wiped out!’ he exclaimed and the soldiers believed every word, though hollow was the sentiment. The emotion increased their religious zeal and gave them a cause to fight for. Malik had learnt by now that when a man comes to the battlefield ready to die, he better have a reason for it other than just gold.
By now Malik’s Turkish was flawless. It had taken some time for it to happen. He had spoken Gujarati and Arabic for so many years that some of his words continued to be mangled by those accents. In comparison to other tongues, the Turkish language was harsh and lacked harmony and the intrusion of an accent could even make it seem comical. But all that was history. Malik, in chaste Turkish, urged his troops to fight by raising the banner of jihad. As the chief of the expedition he made a proclamation explaining their purpose. He spoke about converting the heathen to Islam even at the point of sword. If a soldier died fighting this war, heaven was waiting for him. To squash any qualms his soldiers might have on killing innocent people, he announced that it was perfectly right to kill Hindus and take their women. Each man would be more than compensated for his bravery either in victory or in death.
The effect of the speech was immediate. There was not a single man present who was now unconvinced that he was the chosen man to dispatch the infidels to hell. Malik took a deep breath as he ceased speaking. From the corner of his eye he could see the mullah looking on in wonder, marvelling at how the pulpit had been stolen from him. Malik knew he had won one more battle.
Malik had sent a few men ahead for reconnaissance. Taking advantage of the general confusion, the Hoysala soldiers who looked like the locals had managed to get inside the fort. They now stood in front of the general and described what they had found. Malik stared at them intently, half closing his eyes. After a few moments of thought, he said, ‘You mean to say the king has evacuated the city?’ The spies could only nod.
Malik could not believe his ears. The rulers of Madurai had bolted, leaving the palace doors open. Contrary to his expectations, he found no resistance from its inhabitants. He had thought so much about a war that this revelation was an anti-climax, a disappointment. He turned towards Rayan, who smiled. The time had come for his personal revenge. In a few hours the Turkish invaders pouring through the non-existent bulwarks would erase this repugnant bastion of Hindu culture for all time. Above all, Rayan was proud that it was he who made Madurai face heaven’s own judgement and hell’s fiery wrath.
CHAPTER 26
PANDEMONIUM
The royal family’s exit to Paramkunram was swift. Caught unaware by an enemy whose fearsome legion moved with the speed of wind, the royal council advised Veera to move fast to ensure the Turks did not capture him. Veera was glad to hear of this; he wanted to avoid a battle as far as possible, especially right now, depleted as he was of his forces. He had initially believed he would retaliate once the Turks ensconced Sundar on the throne, but now that Sundar had broken ranks with the invader, Madurai was a free for all – neither the king nor the claimant ruled the glorious city.
Veera was unable to comprehend Sundar’s sudden change of heart. Was he an unprincipled rebel, or had he suddenly grown a conscience out of nowhere? His advisors suggested they should speak to him, as that could afford them an insight into the character of Malik Kafur or of those managing the hostilities.
‘I would rather meet the Turk than him,’ Veera told them.
Paramkunram was perhaps a day’s ride from Madurai. It was dangerous to stay so close when the enemy was at hand, but Veera decided that it was an opportune location to stay once the reinforcements arrived. It was an exceedingly strong hill-fortress, but the walled enclosure was small and traditionally all the people who were not needed were usually shifted out before a siege.
The men rode their horses but the bulk of the troops was on foot. Soon the road ceased to exist and all of them had to walk on jungle tracks. Women of the royal family usually travelled in screened palanquins to protect them from the gaze of multitudes, but now they walked like commoners. They struggled in the sun, sweat running down their foreheads and into their eyes, prompting them to wipe their brows periodically with their sleeves. Their footwear was designed for marbled floors, not for the undulations of the forest, and in no time they were in tatters. The soles of their feet were lacerated by spiny plants and sharp edges of rocks. Still, they walked in silence until the thorns ceased to hurt them.
What had been a small party initially was now a vast procession. The planners of the escape had made sure that the royal family could take advantage of the exclusive passage and free roads. But in no time thousands had caught up with them. The news had spread through the capital like fire in a dry bush, but no one knew how.
Veera had not lost all hope. Word had been sent to Parakrama, and he would soon be returning. If the invader held back and demurred at the sight of an opulent distraction in the form of a temple or treasury or a raging river, the Pandyan army could then frighten off the enemy. In case the Turk came in pursuit of the Pa
ndyan emperor, he could take refuge in the hill citadel and wait for Parakrama to relieve him. Paramkunram would give him time to think, yes, to retrospect on the past and plan for the future. But Veera had his doubts. Would his name be obliterated from history because of this retreat? Was this a strategic withdrawal or a cowardly exit?
*
It was years since Sundar had ventured so close to Madurai’s roads. He was anxious, but at least he could warn the city. Knowing Malik as well as he did, he knew the general could not resist the riches of the Srirangam temple. It would delay him by a week and in that time Veera could organize his defences. As he approached Madurai through the north gate, he found nothing amiss. ‘Sleep, my motherland,’ he whispered, ‘you know not what awaits you.’
He found the north gate closed, which was unusual. He walked along the moat towards the east gate, which was partially open. The guards did not recognize him. Walking inside the city for the first time in nearly ten years, he found Madurai in utter chaos. People were in a rush, gathering their wealth, getting ready to escape. Despite the late hour, the city was alive. He caught hold of an elderly man and asked him what the fuss was about. The man replied, ‘A dangerous enemy is about to invade and loot the city and with him is the king’s brother. The king has already escaped. The people have no choice but to flee.’
Sundar was aghast. So Veera had been warned. Despite the looming danger, he had never seen Madurai so close to desolation. Its people had thrown off all semblance of order. In the past, wars meant news from the frontier. But now the Turks were at their gates, intent on reducing the whole country to dust. Pandemonium had erupted across their empire and now it had crept towards them inside the fort walls. The king had left first, without even warning his own people, lest an exodus block his way. It was an outrage against the trust they had placed in him. But now, realizing their precarious position, the people wasted no time in exiting.
Gods, Kings & Slaves: The Siege of Madurai Page 38