Muhammad Bin Tughlaq

by Anuja Chandramouli

  Since Muhammad was involved, it didn’t just stop there. His people were already angered by the impending move to Daulatabad, arrangements for which were going on in full swing, and wild rumours that Dilli was to be handed over to the Mongols began to circulate. They took to the streets, rioting and protesting against the non-existent threat of Dilli being razed to the ground and reduced to rubble, forcing the Sultan to have the insurgents arrested and executed.

  The warm reception given to ‘the invader’ and the loss of lives on account of his visit infuriated the malcontents further. Suddenly, everybody was an expert on the ancient past as sordid stories of atrocities perpetuated by the Mongols were dredged up to deliberately inflame the public and denigrate their emperor’s foreign policy.

  ‘His father, the great Sultan Ghiasuddin Tughlaq, answered the Mongol threat with blood and steel!’

  ‘Which is the only way to deal with scoundrels who have devoted their lives to smashing our temples, making off with our livestock and enslaving able-bodied men and women. They have been doing this for hundreds of years!’

  ‘They used to kill our brave soldiers, and then consume their flesh and drink their blood! Filthy fiends!’

  ‘It is said that the Mongols are conceived by the flesh-eating mares that carry them to battle!’

  ‘And how does our Sultan receive them? With open arms!’

  ‘Do you think that is the reason the Sultan is yet to produce an heir? Because he likes to . . . you know!’

  ‘If his father hadn’t been murdered, he would have wept at his son’s shameful conduct.’

  ‘Did you know that the Sultan has emptied the treasury to buy peace because he is too much of a coward to give a fitting reply to the Mongol rogues on the battlefield?’

  ‘It may be he prefers to be the one who gets buggered as opposed to one who is doing the buggering . . .’

  Of course, his spies reported it all to him and Muhammad listened stone-faced as they sputtered their way through all the profanity at his insistence. It was all hearsay and utter nonsense. But Muhammad knew that many including his mother and vizier blamed him for the constant outpouring of vile bile, and he supposed they weren’t entirely wrong.

  In one of his public speeches where he had addressed his people directly, Muhammad had declared: ‘It is my desire that the citizens of my empire shall enjoy the fruit of liberty, embrace their individuality and shape their own destiny, caste and class be damned. Cast aside the fetters that shackle you to a wretched existence and seek to improve your status in life by dint of hard work and stalwart enterprise. Have the courage to climb out of the morass of poverty and aspire towards a life of ease. You can count on your emperor’s support in your endeavour to rise above your limitations.

  ‘Discover your voice and speak freely, knowing that your Sultan is your benefactor and friend. Don’t be afraid to criticize unjust or immoral acts even if they have been committed by your sovereign lord. Let us all strive for justice, equality, peace and prosperity. Together we shall strive for greatness!’

  Muhammad’s brilliant speech had been received with thunderous applause and he had basked in the adulation of his subjects. However, all too soon, he had cause to regret his words. His subjects were only too happy to talk however they saw fit, with scant regard for decorum or decency.

  They raised their voices against him at every single opportunity, irrespective of whether it was warranted or not. In fact, complaining or making fun of him had become their favourite pastime. They painted vulgar caricatures on the palace walls of him engaged in incest, sodomy or bestiality, composed disrespectful songs in his honour and disrupted his assembly with strident complaints and poison-pen notes that were tossed amidst the gathering.7

  Worthless, witless fools who spent their days whining and whingeing. Something drastic needed to be done. Perhaps Ahmad had been right all along.

  His Khwaja Jahan did not believe in giving anyone too much rope. ‘Why should mindless morons be allowed to spout their gobbledygook?’ Ahmad had wanted to know.

  ‘My dear Ahmad! Sometimes I am convinced you are a relic from a bygone era. Do you not see that the days of absolute rule are numbered?’

  Ahmad was so shocked at his response, he actually hissed and would have shushed his Sultan but thought better of it. ‘I wouldn’t risk saying such things, sire! It would never do for people to get it into their heads that they too deserve to have a say in governance. It is best for all concerned if they kept their useless thoughts to themselves and simply did as they are ordered to.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Muhammad sighed. Why were people deliberately blind to the things that were so clear to him? Didn’t they know that there were lands not so far away where government and administration were patterned on the republic system of ancient Greece? That officials were elected to power by the people and their tenure of rule was limited by law?

  ‘Whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, in future, freedom will not be a luxury enjoyed by too few but a basic human right. People wish to shape their lives as they see fit and will not be denied. The chains holding them in thrall are fragile, and it is only a matter of time before they snap.’

  Ahmad hesitated for a moment, and Muhammad watched, amused, as his vizier ironically debated the merits of speaking his own mind. ‘It has to be asked, your majesty! Do you really think that if people are given equal rights, they will use them wisely and to better themselves?

  Now it was Muhammad’s turn to hesitate. ‘In theory, it is possible.’

  Ahmad shook his head vehemently for emphasis. ‘A lot of things are possible in the realm of theory, sire. It is easy enough to theorize since it costs nothing. But in truth, a truly worthy man or woman would make something of their lives with what is given, irrespective of whether they are offered the freedom and opportunity to do so or not. On the other hand, someone who starts with all the advantages life has to offer may still amount to nothing.

  ‘Take Mubarak Shah, for instance. His life was miraculously saved when the eunuch conspired to uproot Alauddin’s entire family, and he was handed a throne and an empire. But that hardly stopped him from frittering it all away on drink, drugs and debauchery. I repeat, those who are intended to rise up the food chain will find a way to do so. For it takes grit, guts and gumption to do that, and too few possess these qualities. That is unlikely to ever change.’

  Muhammad stroked his beard contemplatively as the man carried on with his tirade. ‘Tomorrow, if you were to inform your citizens that they are to be freed, do you think they will be better for it? Of course not! Chaos will prevail until the next tyrant takes charge, stamping and sealing his absolute authority with the blood of his predecessor as well as his extended family and just about anybody else who gets in the way.’

  Ahmad took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Muhammad couldn’t help thinking that though the Khwaja Jahan was right about a lot of things, he was wrong about the future. A republic may have its flaws, but it was still superior to an absolute ruler who was almost always unequal to the demands and pressures of the job. Power was addictive and utterly ruinous. Muhammad knew it to be true, especially since it was he who had been cast in the role of an absolute monarch, and not a day went by without him being made painfully aware of his limitations. His people had tied their hopes and aspirations to his destiny, confident he would soar heavenward and take them with him, but he himself knew that they were doomed to disappointment. He could never be the saviour they needed him to be.

  He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘In an ideal world, people would do the right thing simply because it is the right thing to do. However, since that is not the case, I am left with little choice but to put the fear of God and the Sultan in their hearts!’

  Najib had come in just then. ‘It is done, your highness! We can rejoice, for justice has truly been served.’

  Muhammad nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t smile. Ahmad looked at the two of them for a brief moment before understanding dawne
d on his features.

  ‘I am relieved, your highness,’ he began. ‘We simply cannot condone a state of affairs where a citizen files a suit with the Kazi against his majesty, accusing him of seizing his land illegally and demanding compensation. And another, even if he is a noble’s son, accusing his majesty of physical assault.’ And paying him back in kind.

  Muhammad frowned at the memory. He had tried to conduct himself with as much dignity as could be mustered while he was being beaten black and blue by a mere stripling, but Abu had laughed himself silly over the entire fiasco. ‘Why do you do this to yourself? You should have had the rapscallion’s impertinent hide flayed off his back!’

  ‘I gave my word. And the Sultan’s word is gold.’

  Abu snorted. ‘And you wonder why your citizens insist you like to get buggered.’

  Muhammad gave himself a mental shake. ‘He will not be doing anything of the sort in the foreseeable future,’ Najib was saying. ‘Nor will the callow youth who struck the emperor twenty-one times, simply because the emperor had exercised his royal right to hit him. It is most unfortunate that the kazis who ruled against the Sultan are no longer in a position to sit in judgement of others. Even the anonymous sons of anonymous fathers who composed poisonous notes filled with vile invectives and hurled them into the assembly while the emperor was holding court won’t be able to show such blatant disrespect now that they are good only for the worms and maggots to burrow into.’

  ‘Don’t let Barani find out about any of this,’ Ahmad cautioned him. ‘The man is a typical writer, waiting to use such sensitive information in his own misguided narratives.’

  Najib shrugged. ‘My duties are conducted in the utmost secrecy as decreed by the Sultan, and barring the public executions, few will be able to ascertain the fates of those who have been summoned or taken captive by the emperor’s executioner. But nothing I could possibly conceive would match the gore and horror supplied by Barani’s imagination.’

  Muhammad ignored their banter. His thoughts were with those who had discreetly disappeared. But Ahmad was right—he couldn’t let those who took advantage of the judicial system to file false suits or those who blatantly disrespected his authority get away with it.

  Muhammad turned his thoughts back to Tarmashirin, who had given Muhammad a lot to think about, which he decided to share with Ahmad after Najib had taken his leave.

  ‘Our Mongol friend is having a spot of trouble . . .’ he began, ‘which I am sure you are aware of.’

  Ahmad nodded. ‘We are familiar with the situation in Transoxiana, sire.’ His voice was curt. The Khwaja Jahan did not like the Mongols. But Muhammad suspected that his hostility arose from the fact that Tarmashirin had made a few requests, gambling heavily on the Sultan’s not-ill-deserved reputation for generosity and largesse.

  ‘Tarmashirin has requested my assistance against Abu Said, the Ilkhan of Persia,’ he began. ‘He requires arms as well as money. We discussed mounting an expedition to take Persia, Khorasan and Iraq.’ Muhammad’s eyes were aglow with keen anticipation. If successful, he would be on his way to surpassing even the achievements of Alexander the Great.

  Ahmad, however, could not mask his doubt. Muhammad continued regardless. ‘As of this moment, we will establish direct communication with Ghazna. I would like a postal relay in place, with our best teams of horsemen. It will be a new diplomatic centre in my empire, and we will send money, men and other materials, as requested by the government of Ghazna. Send word out to all the old regiments who fought the Mongols under my father. Their depleted ranks will be reinforced, and I want no expense spared as we begin preparations for the Khorasan expedition.’

  ‘What about the move to Daulatabad, your highness? Are we to put it on hold?’

  He shook his head. ‘We will move as planned. It should go smoothly. It will take time to get the imperial army ready for the Khorasan expedition. In the meantime, Amir Naroz will gather intelligence from his fellow Mongols who have rebelled against the Il-Khanate. Arrangements must be made to receive them. It is also important to reach out to the religious leaders there so that I can be assured of their support. Such an overture may even placate the Ulama, though I doubt it. Preparations for both ventures must be carried out with painstaking attention to detail. I will brook no dissent or disobedience in this matter.’

  Ahmad bowed his head. ‘It will be as you desire, your highness! May Allah bless your enterprises with victory.’

  Muhammad hoped so too.

  6

  They were finally on the move and Muhammad was pleased. He had hoped he could bring about a smooth transfer, and had devoted months to intensive preparation and planning. Inns had been constructed at various points along the 700 mile journey to Daulatabad, and arrangements for amenities like food, baths, medicine and clothes were to be provided for the travellers on his orders.

  Advance riding parties had cleared and readied the route. Every governor of the minor provinces along the way and even the leaders of villages had been notified about the Sultan’s eminent arrival. They had spent months making arrangements for him and all who passed through with the royal family.

  There were comfortable beds, hot meals, fresh horses and the best accommodation waiting. New wells had been dug to ensure there was adequate water for man and beast. The Sultan, his family members and his nobles would be moving along with their households and entourage. Mostly, they found the journey to be a comfortable one and Muhammad was pleased.

  Leading builders, traders, artists and city planners with their helpers and teams of slaves had been sent ahead to expand and beautify the city of Daulatabad and make sure that everything was in readiness for their arrival. All who had shifted would be provided free board and lodging. Those involved in trading would be allotted land free of cost to build their houses and set up business establishments.

  Despite everything, there were malcontents who complained endlessly and blamed him for minor discomforts ranging from plain country fare to aching backsides. There were also a lot of ruffled feathers over the lack of intoxicants and the unavailability of women for the enjoyment of the nobles. His famous disdain for such vices did not endear himself to the pampered courtiers.

  Key members of the Ulama had also been conscripted for the move. As expected, they had resisted him might and main, convinced that he was forcing them to leave their beloved Dilli so that they may be killed on the dangerous journey to the ‘land of the infidel’, as they insisted on calling it.

  As always, their recalcitrance and frustration was unnecessary. Here he was, giving them an opportunity to spread the tenets of Islam among the Hindu-dominated regions in the south, and they were fighting him tooth and nail.

  ‘I have a good mind to have them catapulted to the second capital with manjaniks. Or better yet, I could give the order to tie their feet to my warhorses so they can be dragged to Daulatabad.’ Barani was present while he contemplated thus and looked so scandalized that he burst out laughing.

  ‘Perhaps you could try reasoning with them, your majesty . . .’ he ventured timorously.

  Muhammad had tried to reason with them and address their concerns personally.

  ‘The Deccan has been a hotbed of conflict primarily because the Hindu majority seems convinced that its religion is under threat. I daresay other minorities feel the same way.

  ‘I feel it would be best if the mashaikh follow in the footsteps of Nizamuddin Auliya, Muhammad Bhaktiyar and Fariduddin, who used their warmth, wisdom and compassion to spread the teachings of Islam. Needless to say, they were beloved and their teachings widely disseminated because they preferred to adopt pacifist methods that were sensible and had the added merit of not leading to large-scale communal strife and violence.’

  ‘With all due respect to the Sultan, it is thanks to your patronage of the kafirs that those of the true faith have been subject to endless persecution,’ they complained. ‘You spoke about the sentiments of Hindus, Jains and Buddhists, but you don’t have the
same regard for those belonging to the true faith! Your faith!’

  ‘Seduced by their dark arts and disreputable yogis, you would have us leave our homes and send us to the land of the infidel, where we will be killed like dogs. The graves of the Mussulmen will stretch from here to Daulatabad and you will have our blood on your hands!’

  Muhammad had had enough, and sent everyone away with orders to prepare for the departure to Daulatabad. The idiots responded by declaring a jihad against the infidels. Even the most reasonable among them caused him trouble. He had sent for Shaikh Shamsuddin, one of Nizamuddin Auliya’s disciples, but the man had refused, insisting that he was getting on in years and could not involve himself in politics. When Muhammad insisted, the man pleaded a medical condition.

  The Sultan instructed the saint be brought to court so that Wasim, the royal physician, could take a look at him. As it turned out, his condition was critical and the saint was dead the next day. Naturally, he was blamed for the death and accused of unnecessary brutality. The Ulama had risen up in arms against him.

  Support had come from unexpected quarters, though. The disciples of Shamsuddin, led by Shaikh Burhanuddin, sought an audience with him.

  ‘Shaikh Shamsuddin knew he was not long for this world. Our master, Nizamuddin Auliya, appeared in his dreams to summon him to a better place. It had been his wish that we spread the teachings of his master far and wide. Shaikh Shamsuddin believed the Sultan’s heart was in the right place and we must assist in his endeavours.’

  ‘Was that all he said?’

  They hesitated, then surrendered. ‘He said your heart is in the right place even if your brains aren’t.’ Muhammad had laughed at that.

  Barani had also made himself useful, despite his extreme repugnance for the move. He had convinced himself that sooner or later the Sultan would succumb to the allure of Dilli. ‘I remember your stories from the campaign in Warangal. You didn’t like it all that much. Dilli is the beating heart of your empire and sooner or later you will be back.’