On May 11, 1857, Bahadur Shah Zafar, the nominal emperor of Hindustan, was approached by the Indian sepoys of the Bengal army who came to see him from Meerut after rebelling against the British dictat that required them to use Enfield rifles whose cartridges were greased with the fat of pig and cow.

They appealed to him saying that every proclamation that they had heard so far was in his name: “Khilqat Khuda ki, Mulk Badshah ka, Hukm Company ka (The Lord’s creation, the emperor’s country, the company’s command).”

“But now, the British have been empowered to rule us on your orders. So we have come to you as petitioners, hopeful of justice.” (Dastan e Ghadar by Zahir Dehlvi, translated by Rana Safvi).

Liaquat Ali was holding the fort in Khusrau Bagh, Allahabad, while 80-year-old Kanwar Singh (above) raised the banner of revolt in Bihar. Photo: Screengrab

The emperor, though initially reluctant, agreed to lead them in their war against the foreign rulers and on May 12, 1857, he was crowned the Emperor of Hindustan. On May 18, 1857, Munshi Jeevan Lal, a spy of the British, wrote that the Rani of Ujjain, Laxmibai, had asked for permission to come to court; she was told that it was entirely upto to her and not required.

Implicit in this report is her support for the Indian sepoys fighting under the Mughal emperor.

He was indeed accepted by all as the emperor of Hindustan and when the uprising spread, even Rani Laxmibai of Jhansi and Nana Saheb “sought legtimacy from the Mughal sovereign Bahadur Shah II rather than appealing to the notion of Hindu Padpadshahi or seeking legtimacy from the Maratha chiefs of Satara or Peshwa,” writes Prof SZH Jafri, in a special volume on Delhi in 1857.

In another article, ”The issue of religion in 1857: Three documents”, Prof Jafri writes:

“One comes across numerous printed proclamations, appeals and pamphlets issued by the rebel leaders in the various centres of the Uprising, always making a plea for a united struggle to expel the foreign rulers from the Indian subcontinent. Apart from making a very strong case for Hindu-Muslim unity they often also sought to revive the notion of Mughal sovereignty and invoked the concept of ‘People (khalq) of God, country (mulk) of king (that is, the Mughal emperor), authority (hukm) of the local leaders or chiefs’ to imply loyalty to a common cause.”

A fierce battle against the Empire. Photo: Screengrab

On August 25, 1857, Bahadur Shah Zafar issued a proclamation. S Mahdi Hasan, in his seminal book Bahadur Shah Zafar and the War of 1857 in Delhi, writes that the original proclamation was lost, but in 1858, after Zafar’s sentence but before he was actually sent to Rangoon, Burma, his descendant Prince Firoz Shah, who was still at war with the British, issued its replica and thus it became famous as the Azamgarh Proclamation.

It was translated by JD Forsythe, the secretary to the chief commissioner of Oude as the “Proclamation issued by the Rebels”. It declares that “as both Hindoos and Mohammadens have been ruined by the oppression of the infidel and treacherous English, therefore it is the bounden duty of all the wealthy people of India to stake their lives for the well-being of the people of India”.

It talks of Muslims rallying under the flag of Muhammad and the Hindus under the flag of Mahavira (used for Hanuman).

It goes on to say that the sacred books of Hindus and Muslims have prophesied the end of British rule after this year (1857) and thus, people should remove fear of its continuance from their minds and join in “our cause”.

(There was a prophesy that 100 years after the Battle of Plassey (1757), the British rule would come to an end.)

The proclamation addresses zamindars, merchants, men of service, artisans and scholars of both creeds, “Hindoos and Musalmans (Maulvis and Pandits)”. This last part is very interesting as it says: “You are aware that the British are opposedto your religion and as the present is a religious war you should join s and gain the good will of the creator, otherwise you will be considered sinners. If you will join us you will receive mafees and land from the emperor.” (From Bahadur Shah Zafar and the War of 1857 in Delhi).

So, this was a religious war where Hindus and Muslims, of “high” and “low” castes, all fought against the foreign power of the British East India company, under the banner of the Emperor of Hindustan, Bahadur Shah II (more popularly known as Bahadur Shah Zafar), and fought a common enemy: the firangi or foreigner.

However, it is important to note that Bahadur Shah Zafar was not fighting Christians or Englishmen but the British East India company. “He (Zafar) opposed the company’s paramountcy and the Englishmen as a class enjoying the highest and most lucrative offices in the state,” writes S Mahdi Hasan.

In fact, the European Francis Godlieu Quins, who wrote Urdu-Persian poetry under the penname Frasoo, chronicles that “Zafar called all the three classes of poeople (Musalman, Hindus and Mujahideen) to a personal interview, and having taken an oath explained his object. He asked that the Hindus should swear by Ram and the Ganges and that the musalman should swear, each placing a copy of the Quran on his head.” (Bahadur Shah Zafar and the War of 1857 in Delhi.)

A war that Faizabad’s Ahamadullah Shah, Jhansi’s Rani Laxmibai and Haryana’s Rao Tula Ram fought together.

While Ghulam Ghaus manned the cannons in the Fort of Jhansi under Rani Laxmibai, Raja Jai Singh of Azamgarh fought under the banner of Begum Hazrat Mahal (he was a key member of her military counsel and also the main spokesperson for the troops in their dealings with the court of the young Birjis Qadr, after the regent declared him the Nawab in 1857). Jai Singh, too, was martyred in the cause of Independence.

Ghaus, the gunner, died defending Jhansi; Rani Laxmibai had famously declared, “Main apni Jhansi nahin dungi (I will never give up my Jhansi)” to the British.

Azizan Bai, the famous courtesan of Kanpur, joined the battle against the British in 1857, under the banner of Nana Saheb.

There are innumerable examples of Hindu-Muslim unity and, in fact, that was seen as one of the main reasons for the “revolt” by the British.

If there was Ahmadullah Shah, the Maulvi of Faizabad, fighting the British in Awadh, there was also Rao Tula Ram of Haryana, who was helping Bahadur Shah Zafar.

Bahadur Shah Zafar: Poet extraordinaire, exiled emperor. Photo: IP-Black/Indiapicture

Liaquat Ali was holding the fort in Allahabad’s Khusrau Bagh, while 80-year-old Kanwar Singh raised the banner of revolt in Bihar. A forgotten aspect of the 1857 uprising is the role of the tribals who had also participated. A popular Bhojpuri song from 1857 goes thus:

Ab chod re firangiyal hamar deswa

Lutpat kaile tuhun majwa udaile

Kailas des par julum Jor.

Sahar gaon luuti, phunki dihiat firangiya

Suni Suni kunwar ke hridaya mein lagal aagiya

Ab chod re firangiyal Hamar deswa

(Oh British, leave our country, for you loot us,

you enjoy the luxury of our country,

and, in return, you loot and burn our hamlets, cities and villages,

Kunwar’s heart burns to know this,

Oh British, leave our country…)

(Translated by Badri Narayan in Facets of the Great Revolt, edited by Shireen Moosvi).

“Among the many lessons the Indian mutiny conveys to the historian, none is of greater importance than the warning that it is possible to have a Revolution in which Brahmins and Sudras, Hindus and Mahomedans, could be united against us…,” British historian George William Forrest mentioned in the introduction of the State Papers soon after the end of the First War of Independence.

According to historian Irfan Habib, it was the largest anticolonial uprising anywhere in the world. Out of 1,35,000 Bengal army native soldiers, only 7,000 remained loyal to their British masters.

It was the sheer scale that rattled the might of the British Empire and they struck back with unparalleled cruelty — killing, executing and looting all those whom the slightest shred of evidence linked to the revolt. The brunt was borne by Muslims as they shared the faith of the man declared as Emperor of Hindustan. It was seen as a “Mohammedan conspiracy making capital out of Hindu grievances”.

Most of the princes and princesses were either killed or died trying to escape, or spent their lives in ignominy and poverty. Many innocents from every site associated with the centres of the uprising were killed, and Hindustan, as we knew it till 1857, changed forever.

The emperor was tried for sedition (against his own empire!) and exiled to Rangoon in 1858; he died there, away from his homeland, in 1864.

Thus, the Mughal empire was replaced by the British Empire under Empress Victoria.

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“Damsel in distress” is a popular way of portraying women – as helpless creatures without any resources to protect themselves, who need men in their lives to keep themselves safe. From my readings of history, I have found this trope to be inauthentic; women were indeed quite resourceful — they had to be, for the men were often out on campaigns and kept busy by trade.

I came upon a book titled Lal Qila ki ek Jhalak by Syed Nasir Nazir. Nazir was born in Delhi on August 16, 1865. His early education was under the tutelage of his father, a noted poet with the pen name “Malaal”.

Inclined towards pursuing medicine since childhood, Nazir made a name for himself as a physician. The Rais of Dharmpur appointed him as a tutor for his children, and as a physician for himself. After the death of Rais of Dharmpur, he came to Delhi. Here, he found himself drawn to spirituality and led a life of seclusion. He wrote a series of articles for the magazine Saqi, later published as Lal Qila ki ek Jhalak.

In the book, he describes events inside the palace, as heard from Banni Khanum, the daughter-in-law of the female daroga or superintendent of the palace kitchens. She had accompanied her mother-in-law to the palace and remained connected to the royal kitchen till 1857. Nazir chronicled her memoir in the shape of 76 stories.

One appealed to me personally because as a young girl, my maternal grandmother had also once foiled an attack on her house by dacoits by pretending to smoke the huqqah loudly and making growling noises. The dacoits, who had decided to loot the house thinking no man was present inside, fled — thinking the men of the house have returned. I used to love listening to this story as a child.

So, the story on dacoits written by Nazir, as narrated by Banni Khanum, is especially memorable:

The Mughalani and the dacoits

There were two important centres of Naqshbandi Sufi saints in Delhi’s Shahjahanabad. One was the khanqah or hospice of Mirza Jan e Janan and the other the baradari of Khwaja Mir Dard. I was a follower of the latter’s maternal grandson.

Because of these saints, all of Turkomania seemed to have come into Shahjahanabad.

Hundreds of their followers lived inside the city — in fact, one locality of Sabzi Mandi had been named Mughalpura after them.

(These Mughals were not related to the larger empire but so called because they came from Central Asia and served as soldiers in the Mughal army. The women were called Mughalani.)

They were very brave warriors and had joined the royal army, showing their prowess in the Deccan campaigns. When Shirin Beg and Shakkar Beg came prancing upon their houses from Lahori Darwaza till Chandni Chowk, they would always come to blows with the people of Dilli.

The latter were also very brave — ready to fight back, blow for blow. People from both sides would be left wounded, but no one would ever complain to the police.

One day, when I came to the baradari to pay my respects to my spiritual master, I saw around 50 women and children from Mughalpura had assembled there.

I asked Imami Begum Sahib, the granddaughter of Mir Dard and wife of Maulvi Nasir Jan, “Hazrat why have so many of these Mughalpura women come here today as there’s no urs (birth anniversary of the saint) or wedding?”

Begum Sahib said, “They are beset with problems and so have left their homes in fear and come here. Khanum, you know their men, from age 12 till 50, have accompanied the emperor in his Deccan campaign? These women and their small children were left alone at home. Some eight days ago, a beggar came to their door, asking for alms.

One of the women told her servant to give some flour to the beggar.

The servant, not only gave him the alms but also informed him, ‘Baba, these 20 houses belong to the families of Vilayati Mughals (mercenaries recruited from Central Asia) and as they have gone on a campaign, there is no man [to protect] them. However, these people are very rich from their plunder and their houses are full of money.’

The beggar listened to her intently before moving on, continuing his chant for alms.

When the servant returned, the women asked her what had taken her so long — what had she been telling the beggar?

She recounted her conversation with the beggar, and the women were furious with her for telling a stranger that there were no men in the homes to guard them.

They were scared that the beggar would plan a robbery and loot their houses at night, and even ravage them.

Their houses have windows, which open into one another’s and soon, this disturbing news reached everyone. The women got together and held a conclave on the best way forward. At night, they dressed in men’s clothes, picked up their husband’s weapons and climbed on top of the roofs of their houses. The night passed peacefully.

The next day, the beggar came again, calling out for alms. The servant ran out upon hearing his voice.

‘Liar,’ the beggar scolded her. ‘You had said there were no men in these houses; yet, at night, their roofs were packed with men with swords and guns in their hands, guarding the homes. I saw it all myself. They had even lit torches.’

The servant replied, ‘Baba I wasn’t lying. Truly, there are no men here but God save us from these women! They are very cunning, masters in dissembling. At night, they wore their husband’s clothes and with their weapons they climbed the roofs, pretending to be men.’

When the servant returned home, the Mughalani asked, ‘What did you tell Shahji today?’

When they heard her speak, all the women began wailing and cursing her. ‘Now that the beggar knows the truth, they will come and overpower us tonight – they will loot and plunder us! It is advisable that we take all our valuables and seek shelter with Hazrat Begum Sahiba in the baradari before evening sets in. Let us leave this ungrateful wretch here to face the music.’

The same day, the Mughal women came here with all their valuables and money.

Yesterday, a man who had come from Mughalpura gave us the news that the same night the women had left their homes, there was a dacoity in the neighbourhood. The robbers raided many houses but didn’t like anything there and returned empty-handed. In their anger, they severely beat up the servant and told her, ‘You have needlessly troubled us.’

The Mughal women were very amused by the news of the beating the servant had received.

Now, Hazrat Baba has written to the police, who have promised to provide them security.

These women will return to their houses in a few days.”

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I could also see signs all over warning anyone enterprising enough to venture in and despite my passion to uncover the secrets of Delhi’s monuments my resolve weakened and I returned home.

A few days ago, the man known as Prince Ali Raza died inside this shikargah. His body was also discovered by chance. Many newspapers have proclaimed that the last Prince of Oudh has died a lonely death.

This shikargah had been allotted to his mother Vilayat Mahal as she had ensconced herself with a son and daughter, and many dogs in New Delhi Railway station’s waiting room in the 1970s.

She apparently refused Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi’s offer of a DDA flat as being beneath the dignity of a direct descendant of the Last King of Awadh, Nawab Wajid Ali Shah. Rajiv Gandhi obviously possessed a sense of humour and offered the medieval hunting lodge, which she took up.

She lived there with her children, many dogs, and some family heirlooms, in a monument with no doors, windows, electricity or even running water. ISRO supplied them with water from their connection.

She died of natural causes or committed suicide in 1993. The daughter Sakina died few years later. Now while the family did indeed lead a lonely life and died all alone I know Prince Ali Raza was definitely not the last surviving prince from the house of Oudh/Awadh.

The British exiled Nawab Wajid Ali Shah to Calcutta in 1856. He took some of his family and four wives with him leaving the rest of the family behind. So while there are obviously many descendants in Calcutta and Lucknow, and I feel there is a remote possibility that their claim is true, the known descendants contest it. They say that this family’s claim of being the descendants of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah is incorrect as all the known ones draw a stipend from the government and Vilayat Mahal’s name is not on that list.

In a letter to the prime minister in 1985, Anjum Qudr the descendant of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and his wife Begum Hazrat Mahal wrote, “All their descendants to this day, we being their great grandchildren, get Political Pensions from the Govt. of India through West Bengal or Wasiqa through the UP governments. ‘Begum Vilayat Mahal’ is not recorded anywhere and gets no such hereditary pensions. In fact she has no past history of more that about 15 years, since she last invented a claim.”

I talked to Manzilat Fatima, the graceful and dignified great great granddaughter of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and the brave freedom fighter Begum Hazrat Mahal.

Begum Hazrat Mahal was one of the most successful leaders of the first war of Independence and declared her son Birjis Qadr the King of Awadh.

In a film made recently on Begum Hazrat Mahal, Kaukab Qudr Meerza says, “I am proud of the fact that I am the great grandson of that peerless woman who shed her veil and the rattle of whose sword heated up the revolutionary fervour in Awadh in 1857. She threw herself into the blazing fire, burning all around and gave up her life to give a new life to the Indian struggle for freedom.” I called up Manzilat Fatima to check this claim and this is what she had to say, “I have been receiving innumerable queries from friends and acquaintances regarding the relationship of the so called late prince to the Royal Family of Awadh?! It amuses me to even think of how some people who lived and died as victims of their own fallacies, have any credibility of a relationship with the famous king and queen of Awadh. I completely deny this claim and I am totally in agreement with my Bade Abba late Prince Anjum Qudr’s (eldest grandson of King Birjis Qudr) challenge of the same.I uphold the legacy of my family’s lineage and maintain dignity of our royal ancestors. We have our roots in the two most powerful dynasties that the country has known, the Mughal and the Awadh combined, of course Awadh being the stronger of the two in our case.”

She says there are many other descendants in Kolkata and Lucknow and that they do meet each other off and on.

Unlike the popular image of nawabi kababi royals the descendants of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and Begum Hazrat Mahal lead a very successful, down-to-earth life. Perhaps that is why they have never been in the eye of the media. They don’t fit into stereotypes of macabre erstwhile royals committing suicide by eating their powdered diamonds or eking out an existence by selling their family jewels or worse still appearing in shoddy costumes to play king.

Manzilat’s father Kaukab Meerza was a Professor of Urdu in AMU, Aligarh and penned two books on Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and his legacy. Her elder brother Irfan Ali Meerza has retired from the railways, and younger brother Kamran Ali Meerza is a hardware engineer running his own business. Her eldest sister Talat Fatima retired as principal of Government Law College, Dholpur, Rajasthan. She also authored Cyber Crimes, the first book on cyber law. The second sister, Saltanat Fatima, runs a successful confectionery business in Noida called Chocolates and More. The youngest sister Rafat Fatima is a teacher at a senior school in Calcutta.

Manzilat runs a very successful catering service in Kolkata named after herself, Manzilat’s. She is committed to preserving the cultural legacy of Awadh and, with a wonderful sense of humour, calls her takeaway service “Nawabi Kababi” — her galaouti kebabs and paranthas, biryani, haleem and pasandas are very popular in Kolkata.

This family does not need to live in palaces and wear showy costumes to proclaim their royalty; their grace and dignity is enough to show that they have accepted life and adjusted to the times they live in.

And the legacy of the Nawabs of Awadh lives on and in safe hands.

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Pathhar ka ik bahisht yaheen Aagra mein hai.

It’s not me but the gaze of history that says this

There’s a paradise of stone in Agra for all to witness.”

— Abhishek Shukla

On June 16, 1631, when Mumtaz Mahal left this world for the next, Sa’ida Khan, known as Bebadal Khan, composed the following chronogram which gave the Hijri year of her death- 1040:

“Jaaye-i-Mumtaz Mahal jannat bad (May the abode of Mumtaz Mahal be paradise).”

The abode that he was referring to was heaven, but a grieving husband decided to make her resting place a heaven too.

As Abu Talib Kalim Kashani, Shah Jahan’s poet laureate, wrote:

“Upon her grave – may it be illumined until the Day of Resurrection!

The King of Kings constructed such an edifice

That since Destiny drew the plan of creation

It has not seen such an exalted building.”

(Translation Ebba Koch)

Indeed it was a fit mausoleum for a beloved wife. The best of master architects, calligraphers, embossers, stone carvers, craftsman and masons from Hindustan as well as Iraq, Turkey and Iran were gathered to create one of the wonders of the world. The best of building material, precious and semi-precious stones was gathered.

The style to be used was the one used previously in Humayun’s Tomb in Delhi known as the “Hasht Bihist”.

The Taj Mahal, a painting by Edwin Lord Weeks (Credit: Wikimedia Commons)

Hasht Bihist [eight heavens] is a Persian architectural term which refers to a specific type of floor plan whereby the plan is divided into eight chambers surrounding a domed central room. The allusion is to the eight levels of heaven and this plan was usually used for funerary monuments. These tombs were square or rectangular planned buildings divided into nine sections such that a central domed chamber is surrounded by eight elements.

Since paradise has rivers and gardens, the Mughal tombs are modelled on them too with the “Chahar Bagh” plan. These rivers signify abundance, mercy and blessings of God. All this imagery is supposed to help the soul of the dead man gain forgiveness and entry into paradise.

According to Amal-e-Salih, written by Shah Jahan’s official biographer Muhammad Salih Kanbo, the construction of the tomb began in January 1632. As many as 20,000 workers laboured for 20 years to complete this marble wonder. While contemporary documents call it Rauza e Munawwara [the Iluminated Tomb] or Rauza e Mutahhara [The Pure Tomb] the locals called it Taj Bibi ka Rauza. However, it became famous as Taj Mahal, perhaps an acronym for Mumtaz Mahal.

“Like nightingales we should weep in this garden

For smiles fade too quickly from the face

— Kanbo, Amal-e-Salih (translation Begley and Desai)

What is it about this mausoleum that attracts lakhs of visitors every year and generates around Rs 20 crore-Rs 22 crore as revenue for the state?

I have been visiting the Taj Mahal since I was a child and have never been able to lose that sense of awe as one enters the enormous, monumental southern gateway to find it framed inside. The feminine charm and delicate decoration make the mausoleum look like a white rose in full bloom. Perhaps that was intentional? Very apt calligraphic words inscribed on this gateway invite the reader into paradise.

Indeed it marks the “perfect moment” in the evolution of architecture in the Mughal period, according to famous historian, Percy Brown.

The first thing that strikes the visitor is the lofty, bulbous dome. It is indeed a fit crown for the empress who sleeps within. It was built under the supervision of Ismail Khan Afendi, who specialised in building the double dome, and had been called from Turkey.

After the first rapturous moment one moves in and is drawn by the water courses all built as per the paradisical plan to enhance the beauty of the mausoleum. Today, the pools are just full of water, but earlier there were silver fountains from which the water gushed out singing eulogies and lotus flowers bloomed in the pools.

“Nautch Girls emerging from the Taj Mahal”, by Edwin Lord Weeks (Credit: artnet.com)

The chief architect was Ustad Ahmed Lahauri also given the title of Nadir-e-Asr [the wonder of the Age]. He was also the architect of the Red Fort and Jama Masjid in Delhi.

The breathtaking calligraphy was done by Abdul Haq who was given the title of Amanat Khan. Inlaid jasper on white marble panels, bear verses from the Quran chosen apparently by Amanat Khan himself.

“O Soul, thou art at rest. Return to the Lord at peace with Him, and He at peace with you,” is the verse on the gateway.

If at the gateway the calligraphic verses refer to themes of judgement and paradisical rewards, the ones near the tomb itself talk of impending doomsday.

The plan of the tomb is an irregular octagon known as “Tarah-i-musamman-i-Baghdadi” and supervised by a master mason from Baghdad.

An inlay specialists came from Delhi to work on the monument. He had a plentiful of riches to work his magic as agates were brought from Yemen, cornelians from Arabia, amethyst from Persia, malachite from Russia, the turquoises from upper Tibet, diamonds from Central India, the onyxes from Deccan and garnets from Bundel Khand.

“They have inlaid flowers of stone in the marble

What they lack in smell they make up with colour.”

— Abu Talib Kalim Kashani (translation Ebba Koch)

Marble was brought from Makrana and of such a quality that it could take on the tint and hues of the sky itself. It has a dreamlike quality in the night and looks ethereal in the morning. The evening saw it suffused with blue and pink.

The night of the kartik purnima is a highlight in the tourist calendar. I witnessed it once many years ago and have never forgotten the experience when it indeed looked like a “teardrop” that hung on the face of time.

The rectangular plan of the complex is marked by its symmetry. Four graceful minarets on four corners of the tomb frame the beautiful dome.

If there’s a mosque on the western side, its jawab or answer is on the east in the form of a “mehman khana”. The entire width of the tomb is equal to the height, and the height of the central façade is equal to the dome.

The mixture of marble for the tomb and sandstone for the other buildings add to its charm, as the whole seems like a bouquet where the white rose is framed by the red flowers.

The ornamental gardens enhanced the incandescent beauty of the grave, almost as once floral jewellery must have added to the late empress’ charms.

It’s no wonder that this symbol of love and beauty is the most visited monument in India and has been included in the Seven Wonders of the World.

It is a building that could only have been built in India as a culmination of Indo-Islamic architecture and will forever bear witness to it.

As Shah Jahan’s court chronicler, Abdul Hamid Lahauri, wrote, “Verily our monuments will tell of us – long speak with mute eloquence [ba-zabaan e bizabaani].

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When Shah Jahan built the city of Shahjahanabad, Dilli became famous all over the world and attracted many European travellers whose accounts (in English or translated into it) tell us the story of those days. However, we hardly have books in English or Hindi, by those who lived in the city or fort, which describe the life inside the walled city. In 1857, when the British prevailed upon the “rebel sepoys” and captured Delhi after a siege of four months, they put the Mughal emperor on trial and after finding him guilty of sedition exiled him to Burma. Since then we have forgotten about the syncretic society, which flourished prior to 1857, and the interaction of the Mughal emperor with his subjects.

CF Andrews was a Church of England priest, educator, missionary who came to India in 1904 and became great friends with Munshi Zakaullah, an alumnus of Delhi College, a mathematician and social historian. Munshi Zakaullah had seen life inside the Lal Quila and had described it to Andrews.

Andrews in his book, Zakaullah of Delhi, describes the Mughal court and life in Shahjahanabad. He writes, “The intimate residence together side by side in the same city of Musalmans and Hindus had brought about a noticeable amalgamation of customs and usages among the common people…

These older residents, whom I approached, whether Hindus or Musalmans, spoke about this fact with enthusiasm, and contrasted it with the bitterness of modern times.

It was quite common, for instance, in those days, for the two communities to join together in different religious festivals. Hindus would go to a Muslim festival, and Musalmans would go to a Hindu festival. This had become a natural local custom.”

I am putting down translated extracts from two Urdu books that describe that Delhi.

Bazm-e-Aakhir was first published in 1885 and was a commissioned book. Munshi Agha Mirza, manager of Muttaba Armaghan e-Dehli and Akhbar-un Nisa realised that those who had first-hand knowledge of life in the Quila-e-Mualla or Red Fort were either dead or ageing and he should get it recorded. He handed over the task to Munshi Faizuddin, who as a Mughal courtier and attendant of Mirza Ilahi Bakhsh, had spent most of his adult life inside the fort. Munshi Faizuddin describes it thus:

Diwali

Lo! It’s time for the first diya. (literally it means lamp but symbolically it specifies day. Even today we have choti and badi Diwali).

Now, no one will enter or leave the royal apartments. The washerwomen, female gardeners and porters and other female servants will not be allowed to step outside the palace (seraglio). No vegetable will enter the palace. If some lady asks for brinjal, radish, pumpkin or carrot, it has to be brought in peeled for fear that someone may do black magic on the ladies inside.

It’s the third diya (badi or main Diwali) and today the badshah shall be weighed in gold and silver and a huge weighing scale is put up. The Badshah sits on one side and the other is filled with gold and silver equal to his weight. This is distributed among the poor.

One black buffalo, black blanket, mustard oil, satnaja (mixed grains), gold and silver are taken out as the badshah’s sadqa (sacrifice to avoid misfortune) and distributed among the poor people.

Orders are given for the fort to be illuminated. Kheele’n (puffed rice), batashe (candy), candy and mitti ke khilone (sugar toys), sugar cane, lemon and mud houses are distributed from house to house by jasoliniyan (female guards) and female servants.

At night, the mud houses made by the prince and princesses are filled with kheelei’n and batashe and diyas are lit in front of it. The raushan chowki, an ensemble of musical instruments, which included shehnai and drums is played in procession and the naubat (drum) starts playing in the Royal Naubat Khana.

In all four corners of the fort, a sugar cane is fixed and lemons are strung on it.

In the morning, these are distributed among the maidservants.

The rath baan (carriage driver) decorates the bulls with henna on their hooves, gilding on their horns, bells around their necks and gold and silver embroidered and tasseled cloth and parades them before the badshah and is rewarded.

Dilli ka Aakhiri Deedar was written by Syed Wazir Hasan Dehlvi and published in 1934. Syed Dehlvi was the grandson of the famous novelist Deputy Nazir Ahmed and gives an account of the Delhi about which he heard from his elders or read in books. In his own words, as recounted by his grandson Syed Zameer Hasan Dehlvi, in the preface:

These sweet tales of bygone days were sometimes found in books and sometimes heard from the lips of the older generation. My mind became a treasure house of such knowledge and I was able to pen them down.

Now that people are willing to listen to these tales I want to hear these stories in their voice.

So that all the pearls that are lying scattered all over in various books can be threaded into a necklace and made available for readers who are interested in the era which has gone by. So I am collecting eyewitness accounts.

None of us are immortal at least these stories can live.

Just as the good days didn’t last one day the memory of these days will also be erased.

He has shown Delhi’s Ganga Jamuni tehzeeb, its communal amity, colourful festivals and the cordial relations between the inhabitants of the fort and the general public.

Dussehra and Diwali

Dussehra is here and a neelkanth (Indian roller) is let off in front of the badshah. The darogha (superintendent) of the baazkhana (falcon house) brings a falcon and hawk to the darbar and the badshah puts it on his wrist.

In the afternoon, the Hindu nobles offer nazar and after that the badshah comes and sits in the jharokha (balcony of the fort overlooking the Yamuna river) to watch the show put up on the sandy bank.

The people of the walled city also gather to watch the show and disperse after it ends.

The darogha of the royal stables comes with the special horses that have been decorated with gold and silver finery and colourful cloths under the jharokha. The badshah inspects them. Rewards are given to the ones with the best decoration.

The Ramleela is celebrated for nine days and on the tenth there is a Bharat Milap in which every year two brothers – Hindu and Muslim – would embrace each other with love.

Diwali has come and the sounds of drums, musical instruments and raushan chowki are echoing. Stalls with heaps of kheele, batashe, khand (loaf-sugar), mitti ke khilone and pieces sugarcane are set up.

Eunuchs are roaming the streets singing

Challa de de More Tain (Give me a ring O kind sir) and begging at the shops.

Halwais have made all kinds of sweets and their shops are attractively decorated enticing the passersby.

The light from the first diya to the last gives the impression that it’s daylight in the city.

On the third diya (day), the badshah was weighed in gold and silver. One buffalo, a black blanket, mustard oil, satnaja and gold and silver were taken out as the badshah’s sadqa.

The Quila was brightly lit and the Hindus sent trays of food for everyone. All friends set out to wish each other: They roam the city and enjoy the illumination.

The rathban and ghosi (cattlemen) coloured the hooves of their cattle (bulls, buffaloes and cows) with henna.

They were painted in bright colours and their horns were either painted silver or covered with silver foil. In their necks and hooves bells were put. On their backs were beautifully decorated cloths.

They were tinkling as they were taken out and made to dance to the sounds of drums. Everyone rewarded them.

In Dilli ka Akhiri Deedar, there is also a description of what happened after the fall of the Mughal Empire.

The book contains an eyewitness account by Aghai Begum, who was a Mughalani (probably as an attendant to a princess), who had spent her life describes how the festivals were celebrated in the Lal Quila. She speaks to the author of the book in the latter part of the 19th century when the British are in full control of Delhi and indeed India. When asked about celebration of festivals, she is nostalgic about the past and scathing about the present:

Some fair and spectacles still remain but the hearts of the people are not the same. The rich look down on the poor, and I don’t from where communal feelings have entered people’s hearts and there’s a communal divide. The Hindus and Muslims don’t visit each other anymore and at the drop of a hat are ready to fight with and kill each other. Every other day there is a street brawl and if there is a fair or a festival then it is as if the wrath of God has descended on the populace. Everyone is out of control, ready to take offence at the slightest thing and in minutes, stones are thrown, sticks are used for beating each other and in seconds there are scores of bleeding heads. Now the machine guns are out and there is a curfew in the city and jailhouses are filled up. Some are even sentenced to kala paani, some are executed; children are orphaned, women are widowed and families bereft. Instead of festivities, the house is of full of mourning.

Published in DailyO.in

Ahmed Ali in his book Twilight in Delhi describes the Delhi Darbar held in 1911 to celebrate the coronation of King George V a few months earlier.

The British Emperor and his wife Queen Mary left the Red Fort, as the Qila-e-Mubarak, was called by the British in a state procession. Almost every prince and ruler and notable attended it and presented tribute to King George V.

In the background as this princely convoy is moving a beggar known as Bahadur Shah is dragging himself on useless legs, begging on the streets of Shahjahanabad.

Who was this beggar? Why was he named Bahadur Shah?

An intense curiosity led me to research on the life of the Mughals after the fall of Delhi into the hands of the British on September 14, 1857.

Though hardly any English book bar Ahmed Ali’s describes the remaining Mughals, Urdu books of late 19th and early 20th century are full of it.

Ghalib himself describes it in two of his works, Dastanbu and the other is Roznamcha-e-Ghadar. Even though Ghalib was not critical of the British and hoped for their patronage and a pension, he still portrays the desolation of Shahjahanabad.

The major description of the plight of the innocents is found in Khwaja Hasan Nizami’s Begmaat ke Aansu, Zahir Dehalvi’s Dastan-e-Ghadar, Mirza Ahmad Akhtar’s Sawaneh Dehli, Syed Wazir Hasan Dehlvi’s Dilli ka Aakhiri Deedar and from Fughan-e-Dehli or the dirges written by many Urdu poets on the condition of royals left in Delhi.

The prince found begging on the streets of Delhi in 1911 finds mention in Khwaja Hasan Nizami’s (1873 – July 31, 1955) Begmaat ke Aansoo. His name was Mirza Nasir-ul Mulk and after escaping the British wrath in the immediate aftermath of the Uprising he had taken up employment along with his sister in a merchant’s house in Shahjahanabad.

Later when the British government fixed a pension of Rs5/pm for the Mughal prince and princesses he had stopped working. Soon the pension was squandered away and he was in debt.

After a few years later a peer baba, who looked as if he was from the Timurid-Chengezi lineage used to drag himself around Chitli Qabr and Kamra Bangash area. His legs had been struck by paralysis. He had a bag tied around his neck and he would look at passersby mutely to ask for help. Those who knew who he was would throw in a few coins in his bag.

Someone asked who he was and was told that his name is Mirza Nasir-ul-Mulk and he is the grandson of Bahadur Shah.

Another prince, son of Bahadur Shah Zafar’s daughter Quraishia Begum was also begging on the streets of Shahjahanabad.

Known once as Sahib-e-Alam Mirza Qamar Sultan Bahadur, after the British took control of Delhi he was reduced to begging.

He would come out only at nights as he felt ashamed and embarrassed to be begging on the roads where people bent low to salute him when he rode in the streets.

Mirza Qamar Sultan asked for alms with an aristocratic air. He doesn’t address anyone just cried out, “Ya Allah please get me enough that I can buy provisions for myself.”

Khwaja Hasan Nizami wrote innumerable books on the events of 1857, all based on eyewitness accounts of survivors. One story which I found particularly moving was the story of the daughters of Mirza Kavaish who had been appointed the Heir Apparent of Bahadur Shah Zafar by the British overturning the claims of Mirza Jawan Bakht, the son of Bahadur Shah Zafar’s favourite wife Begum Zeenat Mahal.

In Begmaat ke Aansoo, Khwaja Hasan Nizami has described the story, which he heard from the princess herself.

Her name was Sultan Bano and she was the daughter of Mirza Kavaish Bahadur. When she met Khwaja Hasan Nizami she was 66-years-old but still remembered everything vividly. He recorded it in Begmaat ke Aansoo as Shahzadi ki Bipta.

She tells her story to Khwaja Hasan Nizami:

Although the ghadar took place 50 years ago I still remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday. I was 16-years-old then. I was two years younger than my brother Mirza Yavar Shah and six years older than my sister Naaz Bano, who died.

My name is Sultan Bano. My father Mirza Kavaish Bahadur (he was appointed the Crown Prince by the British in 1856, over the claims of Zeenat Mahal’s son Mirza Jawan Bakht). He was a favorite and able son of Hazrat Bahadur Shah.

We sisters were very fond of our brother Yawar Shah and it was reciprocated fully.

Aqa Bhai had a whole range of tutors who taught him every range of subject and various arts. He had expert calligraphers, Arabic and Persian scholars and ace archers teaching him.

We learnt embroidery, stitching and other household arts from Mughlanis.

The children that Huzur-e-Wala was very fond of would partake breakfast with him every morning. Zill-e-Subhani was very fond of me and I was always called for breakfast with him.

We didn’t observe purdah then or now. Strangers would come and go from the zenana mahal without a problem. But I was shy and I always kept my head covered and didn’t like coming in front of strange men. But I had to obey the orders of the Huzur, even though various male cousins also came there.

The saving grace for me was that because they were in the presence of the Emperor they all kept their gaze lowered. No one could look up or speak out of turn.

As per custom, Huzur-e-Moalla would offer a morsel from some special dish to a few of his children, that person whether young or old, male or female, would get up from their seat and go close to him and present three salams by bending from the waist.

One day I was called and Huzur gave me a portion of a special Irani dish that had been mde that day. He said, “Sultana, you only peck at your food. It’s good to be respectful but you should not go to the extent that you get up hungry from the dastarkhwan.”

I presented three salams to him but only I know how I went there and came back. I was quaking and tripping over my feet.

Alas! Where did those happy days go? What happened to that era?

We would be roaming about in our palaces without a concern. Zill-e-Subhani’s shadow was on our head and we were addressed as Malika-e-Alam. Such are the ups and downs of life.

I remember the day clearly when Huzur-e-Moalla was arrested in Humayun’s maqbara and a gora shot my Chachajaan Mirza Abu Bakr Bahadur then Mirza Sohrab ran towards him with a naked sword. But he was shot by another gora and he fell down with an aah on chahchajaan’s corpse and died. I was standing there, still as a statue watching it mutely.

A khwaja Sara came and said, “Begum why are you standing here? Your Abbajaan is calling you.”

In a state of stupor I followed him.

Near the river gate, my father, Mirza Kavaish Bahadur was seated on a horse, bare headed and anxious. Abbajan’s hair was covered in dust and straw. He started crying when he saw me and said, “Farewell Sultana, I too am leaving. The light of my life, my young son, who I wanted to see with a sehra of pearls and flowers hiding his face in his wedding, was killed in front of my eyes by a Sikh soldier. ” I screamed loudly and started calling out, “O my brother Yawar.”

He dismounted and pacified naaz Bano and me and said, “Beti, now the goras are looking for me. I don’t know how much longer I can escape them or how much longer I have before my life is snuffed out. You are Masha Allah young and sensible pacify your younger sister and place your trust in God and be patient.

“I don’t know what will happen to either of us. I don’t want to leave you both alone but one day or the other you will be orphaned. Naaz Bano is a child, look after her and live a righteous life.

“Naaz Bano you are no longer a princess don’t throw tantrums or make demands. Just give thanks to Allah and eat whatever you can get. If someone is eating, don’t look at them or people will say Princesses are very greedy.”

He put us in charge of the Khwaja Sara and said, “Take them to where the other members of our family have gone.”

He embraced us and spurred his horse into the jungle. That was the last we saw of him and have no idea what happened to him after that. The Khwaja Sara was an old servant of our family and he set of with us. Naaz Bano walked for a little while but she had never walked in her pampered and protected life and soon her legs gave way.

She started crying. I had never walked much myself but somehow I managed and pulling Bano along stumbled my way through the streets where we once rode elephants in state processions.

A thorn pricked Naaz Bano’s foot and she fell down crying. I picked her up and tried to remove the thorn. The accursed Khwaja Sara kept watching, making no effort to help. He started pushing us to hurry up.

Naaz said, “Apajan I can’t walk anymore. Please ask the steward to send a palanquin for us.”

I started pacifying her through my tears. My heart felt as if it would burst with sorrow.

The Khwaja Sara said rudely, “That’s enough. Make a move now.”

Naaz Bano was high-spirited and was used to obeisance from servants and would always keep them in their place. She scolded the Khwaja Sara. The accursed man flew into a rage and slapped the poor orphaned princess.

Bano trembled with shock. No one had ever laid a hand on her. Even I started crying along with her. The Khwaja Sara walked off leaving the two of us crying there.

Somehow the two of us stumbled our way to the dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya rahmatallah alaihe.

Thousands of people from Delhi and our family had taken refuge here. Each was caught up in their own troubles and fears. No one was talking to the other or enquiring after them.

A wave of epidemic diseases, which spread in the wake of the ghadar, claimed my sister’s life.

I was now all-alone.

Though peace returned to Delhi, there was no peace for me.

The British govt fixed a pension of Rs 5/pm for all of us and I still get that.

Published in DailyO.in

30 November 2018

Twilight Diaries

Swapna Liddle

A rare look into the everyday life of the last Mughals

City of My Heart: Accounts of Love, Loss and Betrayal in Nineteenth-Century Delhi | Rana Safvi | Hachette | 288 Pages | Rs 499

THOSE WHO SEEK to know the history of Delhi in the 19th century must overcome what is a major obstacle for most Indians today—an unfamiliarity with Urdu. Since this was the language of the city in the 19th century, this lack of familiarity leads one to rely almost exclusively on sources authored by the British who ruled Delhi. It goes without saying that this leaves us with a very skewed perspective of the history of the city. Apart from the generally complex colonial relationship, there were points at which the Indian people and the colonial state faced each other in sharp conflict—such as the Revolt of 1857— and contradiction. Necessarily, one can expect accounts from opposing sides of the divide to tell different stories. Our understanding is bound to be woefully incomplete, unless we take the trouble to read both versions, the British and the Indian.

The fact, however, remains that Urdu, particularly its script, is understood by a small minority today, which puts these important sources of history out of the reach of most. It is therefore heartening to see an effort being made to make Urdu texts accessible through translations. The selection in City of My Heart by Rana Safvi focuses particularly on the Mughal royal family during the reigns of the dynasty’s last two emperors, Akbar II and Bahadur Shah ‘Zafar’. This volume features four separate works translated into English, three in their entirety and the fourth as a large extract.

The result is a fascinating look into little known aspects of Delhi’s history: the customs, traditions, language, and beliefs of the Mughal royal court and family, and even the personal histories of some of its less known members. These texts are important cultural documents, recording for posterity the details of an institution that disappeared forever in 1857 with the exile of Bahadur Shah to Burma, and the deaths or exile of the extended royal family, which, till September 1857, had lived in the Red Fort.

The texts offer a rare look into the details of the everyday life of the extended household of that period’s Mughals. We are told of the food, clothes, ornaments, furniture and vehicles used by different groups of individuals at particular times. We learn of the formality and etiquette associated with the durbar—when the emperor held court, either within a larger assembly or even within the seclusion of his own household. The daily and seasonal routines of the family, particularly the emperor, are described. The reader will enjoy detailed descriptions of varied festivals and other socio-religious observances within the Red Fort, such as the two Eids, Moharram, Diwali, Dussehra, Holi, Raksha Bandhan, the Persian New Year or Nauroz, and the little known Akhri chahar Shanbeh—literally, ‘the last Wednesday in the month of Safar’. The sheer variety confirms the impression that the Mughals subscribed to a very eclectic mix of beliefs and practices.

There is no denying the value of these texts, and hence their translation, to those interested in the history of Delhi. Yet, it is wise to stay alert to their limitations. The first two texts in the volume have a considerable similarity in content—a detailed documentation of the Mughal court, culture and household. The older of the two, Bazm e Aakhir, was published in 1885 and was written by Faizuddin, who had seen the Mughal court at close quarters. The later one, Dilli ka Akhri Deedar, was published in 1934, and according to its author, Wazir Hasan Dehlvi, was based on older books and the oral testimonies of those who remembered those times. One suspects, however, that few of these would have been first-hand. There would have been very few people alive in 1934 with memories from before 1857.

These texts record the exile of Bahadur Shah and the deaths of exile of the extended royal family resident in the Red Fort

What both share is a curious silence about the British presence in Delhi and indeed within the Red Fort itself during the period they talk about. Daily interactions of the emperor and royal family with representatives of the British East India Company are attested to by sources such as original court diaries and newsletters of the time. This silence in the older work is probably explained by the fact that it was written less than three decades after the Revolt and its harsh suppression by the British. People were still too fearful to even speak on a subject that may be controversial: that is, Mughal-British relations. At the same time there was a desire to document an institution, Mughal royalty, which had disappeared forever, and whose culture had to be documented especially for the benefit of a younger generation that was born or came of age only after 1857.

As for Dilli ka Akhri Deedar, its motivations were very different. It was written at a time when India’s Freedom Movement was at its zenith, and the author used his account of the Mughal court mainly as a medium to critique British rule. Critical comments are sprinkled through the text, ostensibly through the voice of a certain old lady, Aghai Begum. One strongly suspects, though, that this was a literary device used by the author to express his own opinions. For instance, the old lady complains, ‘Everyone is struggling to earn a livelihood and to live a decent life in these expensive times… we produce the grains, and others enjoy it…. Earlier whatever was produced here was consumed here.’

If this is supposed to serve as a comparison betweenAghai Begum’s memories of the last two Mughal emperors’ reigns and life in Delhi of the 1930s, there is a definite weakness in the argument. The era of Akbar II and Bahadur Shah was not that of the Mughal Empire, but of East India Company’s rule. The pertinent part of the lady’s remarks is not her comment on the peace and prosperity of Mughal times, but her criticism—which is actually the author’s—of British rule.

The other two works in the volume are ‘Arsh’ Taimuri’s Qila-e-Mu’alla ki Jhalkiya’n, published in 1937, and part of Khwaja Hasan Nizami’s Begamat ke Aansu, circa 1920. These give many more details about individual members of the royal family, and in the latter case, particularly their fate after the Revolt of 1857 was put down. They provide specifics that may not be found in other sources. Nevertheless, we must allow for a fair degree of romanticisation in their writing, though there appears to be less of a political intent than in the account of Wazir Hasan.

Arsh Taimuri and Hasan Nizami, like Wazir Hasan, relied on the memories of an older generation for their accounts. For people who had lived through 1857, the view of the period before it was always refracted through the prism of the traumatic events of the Revolt. Those who survived often lost loved ones, property, and livelihoods. To them, the world before 1857 was an idyllic one populated by all that they had now lost. It should not surprise us that to some extent at least, they describe an overly rosy, idealised scenario.

There is no doubt that these texts give us valuable insights into the cultural milieu of the Mughal world just before 1957, incorporating a wealth of description that cannot be found in other sources. At the same time, we should be aware of the political and social contexts in which they were written, and how these circumstances may have affected the picture they drew of the past. In that sense, they provide an insight into their own times as much as they do into royal life in the last days of the Mughal Empire.

http://www.openthemagazine.com/article/books/twilight-diaries

30/11/2018 11:47 PM IST | Updated 14 hours ago

Rana Safvi

HUFFPOST INDIA

At its zenith, the Diwan-e-Khas was the most beautiful building in India.

After the foundation stone of the Red Fort was laid in 1639 AD, it took nine years to build the octagonal flower with its attractive buildings, refreshing gardens and streams.

On 18 April 1648 AD, it was ready to welcome Emperor Shah Jahan. He entered the Fort in an open sedan chair from the riverside. In a twist of irony, Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal Emperor, used the same Water gate to exit the fort on the night of 17 September 1857.

The Qila-e-Shahjahanabadi, or Qila-e-Mubarak (The Auspicious Fort), as the Red Fort was known then, was a piece of astounding beauty and architectural perfection and at its centre was the Diwan-e-Khas (Hall of Special Audience).

James Fergusson, the historian who worked on Indian and Eastern Architecture, has described it as “if not the most beautiful, certainly the most highly ornamented of Shahjahan’s buildings”.

‘The most beautiful building in India’

The beautiful rectangular pavilion, made of marble from top to bottom, had no rival anywhere on earth. The marble was so pure that the whiteness of dawn would seem darker than the darkest night. Its pillars and walls were decorated with gold paintings and inlaid work of precious stones such as cornelian, corals.

The beautiful rectangular pavilion, made of marble from top to bottom, had no rival anywhere on earth.

Shah Jahan entered the Fort with prince Dara Shukoh sprinkling gold and silver coins over his head and there were grand celebrations.

The hall was used for the reception of ministers, noblemen and ambassadors.

In the middle stood the Takht-e-Murassa (Jewelled Throne) or as it later became famous, Takht-e-Taoos (Peacock Throne).

Shah Jahan had named the hall Shah Mahal (Royal Palace), but since this was the hall of private audience for special courtiers and guests of state, it became famous as Diwan-e-Khas.

At its zenith, this was the most beautiful building in India, but now lies neglected. I invite you to close your eyes and think of it at its prime when above the end arches on both the short sides of the central aisle, the calligraphers had inscribed

Gar bar ru e firdaus zameen ast

Hameen ast, hameen ast, hameen ast

If there is a heaven on earth

It is this, it is this, it is this!

Through its centre ran the four-yard wide Nahr-e-Bahist or stream of paradise, which was covered with marble slabs. Today the marble is yellowed, the inlaid stones have been gouged out and just a few fading flowers remain on the pillars. The stream runs dry, the only water that flows comes from the tears of the royal ghosts.

In City of My Heart, my new book, there are descriptions of the court held here and the festivities and functions in which the emperor and princes and important nobles participated. There is a description of Diwan-e-Khas during the Phool Waalon ki Sair that says, “The Diwan-e-Khas is decorated with carpets and chandeliers like a bride.”

But this bride went through many ups and downs in life. If this Diwan-e-Khas could speak, it would have so many tales to tell.

Triumphs and trials

Its best days were under Shah Jahan, when court would be held to deal with crucial matters of state.

There was an atmosphere of awe and intimidation when the emperor entered the khas darbar and whoever entered quaked in fear, in case they did something wrong.

Those present would give their salutations—Jahanpanah Badshah Salamat (Refuge of the world, may God keep the emperor safe)—by bending low from the waist and raising their hand to their forehead in salute after entering the darbar.

The Royal Gaze would go over the royal princes and they were rewarded.

The last Mughal emperor was just a nominal head and Bahadur Shah II, an accomplished poet with Zafar as his pen name would recite his latest ghazals over here.

If only it could speak, it would describe the scene here in 1716, when the Scottish surgeon William Hamilton, who cured Emperor Farrukhsiyar on the eve of his marriage, was rewarded with the permission of his employers to establish a factory and to maintain a territory of 38 villages on the banks of the Hooghly River. It was this that began the East India Company’s fortunes in India, and ultimately led to the end of the Mughal empire.

RANA SAFVI

The grave of Scottish surgeon William Hamilton at St. John’s Church in Kolkata. Hamilton, who cured Emperor Farrukhsiyar, was allowed to maintain a territory of 38 villages on the banks of the Hooghly River. This began the East India Company’s fortunes in India, and ultimately led to the end of the Mughal empire.

It was here that Nadir Shah the Persian invader received the submission of emperor Mohammad Shah and took the Kohinoor diamond in 1739. He also took away the Peacock Throne and the later Mughal rulers used a pale replica of it.

In the 18th century, when they were in control of Delhi, the Marathas took out all the silver and gold from the ceiling and sent it to be melted and made into coins. At that time, it was valued at Rs 28 lakh.

In 1788, Ghulam Qadir, the Rohila, captured the Mughal emperor Shah Alam II (r.1759-1806), who had been a Maratha pensioner, and imprisoned him in the adjoining Salimgarh Fort. Ghulam Qadir ordered the emperor to be brought into the Diwan-e-Khas and asked him to give up the secret of his treasure house. The unfortunate emperor had no treasure to give up and had already told his captor that many times. The emperor dared his tormentor to do his worst. Thereupon, the Rohila threw him on the floor of the same court where courtiers would quake under the royal gaze and blinded him. The Marathas defeated and killed Ghulam Qadir and once again established their sway over the emperor.

It was here that Shah Alam II thanked Lord Lake for delivering him from the Marathas in 1803 after the latter defeated the Marathas in Patparganj.

On 14 September 1803, the British force under Lord Lake entered Delhi.

Two days later, General Lake had an interview with the poor old blind king in the Diwan-e-Khas and received high-sounding titles. Delhi came under John Company, as East India Company was known.

The last Mughal emperor

By the time Akbar Shah II (r. 1806-1837) came to power, the Diwan-e-Khas was used a storeroom for unwanted items (broken palanquins, empty boxes etc) and no darbars were held.

When the ‘sepoys’ (Indian soldiers of the East India Company) came from Meerut in 1857, and persuaded ageing Mughal emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar to lead them in their fight against the East India Company, they took out a silver throne from one of the recesses of Diwan-e-Khas. On 12 May 1857, they crowned him the Emperor of Hindustan once again.

He held daily darbars here during that period, which were attended by the important residents of Delhi and officers of the ‘mutinied troops’.

It was here that one of the sepoys addressed him as “Arre Badshah! Arre buddhe!” (O you Emperor! O you old man!).

During this period, it was often full of soldiers carrying their weapons, much to the horror of Bahadur Shah Zafar—hitherto, only royalty or nobles and courtiers had entered the Diwan-e-Khas, and that too without weapons.

On 14 September 1857, the British army breached the Kashmiri Darwaza and entered the walled city of Shahjahanabad. By 17 September the emperor had fled the fort and on 20 September, he had surrendered to Major Hodson and re-entered the fort as a prisoner.

On 27 September 1857, the British held a Thanksgiving service in the Diwan-e-Khas for the fall of Delhi into their hands.

Having taken control of the Fort, the British soldiers drank to the health of the British sovereign in the Diwan-e-Khas. They established headquarters in it, and on the morning of 21 September, a royal salute was fired to celebrate the victory.

On 27 September 1857, the British held a Thanksgiving service in the Diwan-e-Khas for the fall of Delhi into their hands.

In January 1858, the emperor was put on trial in the same hall where his ancestors had ruled on the fate others. In a trial that lasted for 40 days, he was convicted of having made war against the British, abetting rebellion, proclaiming himself the reigning sovereign of India and causing or being the accessory to the death of many Europeans. He was sentenced to exile for life and sent to Rangoon.

The Diwan-e-Khas is visited by hundreds of visitors every day, but few among them know the triumphs and tragedies it has seen.

https://www.huffingtonpost.in/2018/11/30/inside-delhi-s-red-fort-is-the-most-beautiful-witness-to-the-fall-of-the-mughals_a_23605317/

Happy Easter friends

” I am sending Abdullah, my ambassador, and Dominic Perez (an Armenian Christian, the interpreter) with the request that you will send me two learned Fathers and the books of Law, especially the Gospel, that I may know the Law and its excellence…”

This began a close relationship between the Mughals and the Jesuits. This closeness was reflected in art and culture too. It is fascinating to notice the Indian and Persian influence on the paintings and features of the Madonna and Christ.

“The Armenians, who had two churches in Delhi (both destroyed by Nadir Shah in 1739) used to hold a Christmas drama at which Mughal nobles and Rajput chieftains were among the prominent invitees. They sought the emperor’s presence at the play in 1625-26 and Jahangir agreed as he sometimes used to attend a similar one held in Agra since his father’s time. At that play, records the Franciscan Annals, little boys and girls dressed as angels, took part on Christmas night. The emperor was present and rose petals were showered on him. Earlier, “on Christmas morning Akbar used to come to the church (he had ordered to be built) with his courtiers to see the representation of the cave in which Jesus was born and the good shepherds kept watch. Afterwards the ladies of his harem also visited the manger.” Jahangir once presented beeswax candles at the church at Lahore, “through which he was conducted like a bishop, to the chiming of bells and singing of carols”, writes historian R V Smith

The paintings commissioned by Akbar and Jahangir was a blend of Western iconography with Indian and Islamic elements. This is a Virgin and Child dating to 1600-25. Mary watches over  baby Jesus, who holds her hand and grasps flowers.

Jahangir and Jesus .The portrait of Jahangir was done by the Mughal artist, Hashim, and Jesus, by Abu’l Hassan. Chester Beatty Library, Dublin

a folio from the Mughal Bible, showing the Nativity scene. The painting shows the limited knowledge of the painters as there are  two magis instead of three and there is a bejewelled Mary with the architecture popular in Islamic kingdoms as a background instead of a stable.

The Bible was translated nto Persian by Abul Fazl

A Madonna and Child, by one of Akbar’s court painters, Basavan (c. 1590)

Emperor Akbar’s exceptional interest in Christianity is reflected in many ways. Among these was his commissioning in 1602 of a Life of Christ from his guest, the Jesuit priest Jerome Xavier, called Mirʾāt al-quds (Mirror of Holiness): A Life of Christ for Emperor Akbar

Jahangir holding a picture of the Madonna, inscribed in Persian ( National Museum)

Madonna with Infant Jesus :attributed, 17th century, Mughal, Prince of Wales Museum of Western India. This was on a UK stamp in 2005 Christmas.

Adoration of the Christ Child
ca. 1630 (Golconda, Deccan, India) Freer and SakleyPainting, ca. 1600-1610. May depict the presentation of the infant Jesus in the temple at Jerusalem, forty days after his birth. From the Victoria and Albert Museum.

The Inn at Bethlehem  Mughal, Date: ca. 1600-05 V&A Museum

Christ seated in a palace chamber with a female devotee crouching at his feet, surrounded by male courtiers in European-style dress Mughal, circa 1610-20 ( Bonhams)

St Christopher Carrying the Christ Child, Ascribed in verso Emperor Jahangir’s Hand to the Artist Miskina Mughal, Akbar period, circa 1600

Christ seated in a palace chamber with a female devotee crouching at his feet, surrounded by male courtiers in European-style dress Mughal, circa 1610-20 (Bonhams)

Mughal depiction c 1630 of Virgin Mary and Jesus (J.14,2). British Library
Hossein Naqqash, Archangel Raphael, (c. 1590, Mughal; Musée Guimet, Paris)

Album of Persian and Indian calligraphy and paintings, Mary and Jesus, Walters Manuscript

Painting, ca. 1600-1610. May depict the presentation of the infant Jesus in the temple at Jerusalem, forty days after his birth. From the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Elephants were an important part of Mughal life and were used in war, entertainment ( elephant fights, shikar), punishment( crushing to death) and travelling or simply for pomp and show.
In Akbarnama Abul Fazl writes
” When India was made illustrious by his blessed advent he gave special attention to elephants, which are wonderful animals both in form and in ways. If in respect of size I liken them to a mountain in order to describe them to those who have not seen them, I do not succeed in my attempt, for where is account taken of their beauty of form, and where is their swiftness? Or if I liken their speed and fury to the wind, how is their wrath depicted at the time of their o’erthrowing the firm-footed on the field of battle? If I compare them for foresight, intelligence, and sagacity to the horse, the real thing is not said. ”
Great Mogul And His Court Returning From The Great Mosque At Delhi India — Oil Painting by American Artist Edwin Lord Weeks

#Emperor Akbar r. 1556-1605 riding a mast (untamed/rogue) elephant from Akbarnama. Abul Fazl writes “the first elephant which H.M. the Shāhinshāh rode was called Dilsankār. The first mast elephant that H.M. the Shāhinshāh rode was called Damūdar, which H.M. had presented to Bairām Khãn. When H.M. the Shāhinshah was going from Delhi to Salīmgarha, which was on the bank of the Jumna, that elephant was tied under a tree by the roadside. As it possessed the virtue of steadiness the driver was, even in the height of its mast condition, taking cooked rice in his hand and putting it into the elephant’s mouth. H.M. was pleased with the good behaviour of the elephant, and went up to it, and getting upon a female elephant which they had tied by its side, mounted upon the neck of Damūdar. The first mast elephant which H.M. the Shāhin­shāh mounted upon, and engaged in battle with another mast elephant, was called Jhalpa. This was during the siege of Mānkot. After battle had been waged between these two monsters for a long time the contest ended, like a game of chess,* in a draw, and they were separated. At that auspicious time H.M’s age had reached fourteen years. After this, the power of H.M. in riding mast elephants rose to such a pitch that that victory-supported one would unhesitatingly mount on a mast elephant which experienced drivers despairingly declined to ride (lit. placed the back of the hand on the ground of helplessness). And he would lead it against mast elephants, and without exaggeration he rode more than a hundred times on mast elephants which had killed their drivers and were men-slayers, and were capable of smiting a city or perturbing an army, and engaged them in fighting. May Almighty God preserve this eternally-aided one for cycles and epochs on the throne of success and of fulfilment of the desires of mortals!”

Akbar’s Adventure with the Elephant Hawa’i in 1561
by Basawan and Chetar Munti (1590-95)A Mughal Royal Lady travelling on an Elephant

#elephant Khushi Khan 1660

The War Elephants Citranand and Udiya Collide in Battle-Akbarnama, 1567.
1573-Akbar receiving his sons at Fatehpur-Akbarnama

Portrait of an #Elephant with 2 distinguished riders Sultan Abdullah Qutub Shah & his PrimeMinister

By Bichitr. Met. Museum of Art.
This elephant was called Gajraj as is mentioned in Jahangir’s own handwriting given in painting

This #elephant was probably in the imperial use and was commissioned by #Shahjahan c.1640

1602 AD Prince Salim (Emperor Jahangir) returns on an elephant from a hunt

“Prince Aurangzeb riding against the maddened War elephant Sudhakar in the year 1633.”

Mawla baksh the royal elephant in the war of 1857, favourite of Bahadur Shah

Elephant Combat. Hada master. 1610-20.

Mahabir Deb1630 noted painter in ShahJahan’s reign , DaraShikoh riding an elephant

This Emperor Akbar on fierce Hawa,pursuing equally ferocious Ran Bagha,across a bridge of boats over Jumna,1586-89 V&A museum

On this #elephant is riding #Akbar the Great, ‘nim qalam’, minimalist wash #gold c1600 unknown artist, #Lucknow V&A

This is Akbar II with his son Prince Saleem in a Company Painting c1821 now at V&A

This #elephant though from the Mughal stables,probably a working beast. c.18th Murshidabad now at V&A

Many #Mughal ladies were accomplished artists, Khursheed Banu was one of them. She painted this in c.1600

This #Elephant is without the usual trappings of the imperial,though must be 4 royal Mughal’s use c.1650

This #Elephant was probably commissioned by Shahjahan in c.1650-60 most probably by Chand at Ashmolean Museum

Nainsukh: Muhammad Shah’s Elephant Fight

Nainsukh : The elephant fight close up

shikarMughal infantry and Mahut‘s in action.An elephant in war

A ceremonial procession On the occasion of Eid : Two elephants carrying the fish and sun insignia of Mughal sovereigntya green standard with a gold sun

and finally the most gruesome form of the elephant in Mughal era

I am grateful for the tweets on this subject by @Sree_tweets @ambrin_hayat @DalrympleWill @WhiteMughalsFan @razvinama and @jamaljafri