The Last of the Mughals

Then and Now

“We entered a small, dirty, low room with white-washed walls. There, on a low charpoy cowered a thin, small old man, dressed in a dirty white suit of cotton, and rolled in shabby wraps and razais [quilts]. At our entrance he laid aside the hookah he had been smoking and he,

who had formerly thought it an insult for anyone to sit in his presence, began salaaming us in the most abject manner, and saying he was ‘burra kooshee’ [very glad] to see us.� (Account by Mrs. Coopland, a British woman who came to stare at Bahadur Shah Zafar in prison shortly after his surrender in 1857.)

What this apparently haughty woman failed to see was that the words of Bahadur Shah II (the “Zafar�) were gentle not because of his horrendous prison conditions but in spite of them. Zafar was a humble person who always spoke gentle words. He symbolized in many ways the end of an era of gentleness – the era of an essentially benign Muslim rule in India. Such is the impression one forms from reading William Dalrymple’s book “The Last Mughal.�

The book is mostly about the 1857 mutiny – discussing at length what brought it about, how it spread and how it ended – and Dalrymple reconstructs a chronicle of its days and months. The accounts before and after the event are, however, compressed. He himself calls his book less of a biography of Zafar and more of a portrait of the Delhi that Zafar personified. Nevertheless, it represents a faithful effort to stitch together a generally complete though not comprehensive or uniform – in particular, the details away from Delhi are lacking, account of Zafar’s life and the contemporary life in Delhi.

Dalrymple came to Delhi in 1984 and fell in love with it. The story of how a Dalrymple comes to India and what eventually motivates him to write on this theme would be an interesting topic in its own right. But what is really curious is that it took a Dalrymple to assemble this account – although most of the sources were present for decades in the archival records of the Indian government and to Dalrymple’s surprise, never utilized by Indians themselves.

“As the scale and detail of the material available from the Mutiny Papers became slowly apparent, and as it became obvious that most of the material had not been accessed since it was gathered in 1857, or at least since it was catalogued when rediscovered stored in a series of trunks in Calcutta in 1921, the question that became increasingly hard to answer was why no one had properly used this wonderful mass of material before.� (Dalrymple in the introduction to “The Last Mughal.�)

“We burn our dead!� he was told by one source.

“The Last Mughal� is Dalrymple’s third book centered on Delhi. It is based on detailed research using authentic sources – the Mutiny Papers mentioned above are only one such – some used for the very first time; including accounts by common folks, newspapers, letters, petitions to the king, etc. It presents a gripping, on-the-ground view of events as they occurred for the common man in Delhi. This coherent chronology has a novel-like feel except, unlike a novel; you know the events are real – and some of them very disturbing, even scary.

The reading experience starts a bit on the slow side as Dalrymple goes about setting the main characters and the historical backdrop in place. However, as the pace picks up, it becomes remarkably enjoyable. Detailed descriptions of various intrigues, intimate accounts of personal lives and even personal thoughts of individuals (mostly garnered from correspondence), and many mundane trivialities, travails, and concerns of the ordinary folks are all present – in a generally chronological order. At times, Dalrymple has made independent attempts to corroborate individual facts and suggested corrections – when the source’s account did not match available physical evidence.

Softly Sang the Sufi

“The object of my worship lies beyond perception’s reach: For men who see, the Ka’ba is a compass, nothing more.� (Ghalib quoted in Chapter entitled “Believers and Infidels.�)

The Mughal raj – including its tail-end where Zafar belonged, mostly existed as a form of benign despotism – certainly autocratic, but having the support and acceptance of the masses. Islamic veneer on the outside, it consisted of a secular core which supported a delicate balance of the sometimes competing interests of Muslims and Hindus. Many of the kings’ trusted agents were Hindus – as were many queens. There had been a slow seepage of Hindu ideas and customs from the harem into the rest of the Palace and the emperors subscribed to a tolerant and syncretic form of Islam. It was the reign of the Sufis – when poetry was king and the king was a poet. Zafar’s court diaries indicate almost weekly visits to Delhi’s ancient Sufi shrines – far outnumbering those to any mosques. Himself regarded as a Sufi pir, he carefully guarded the interests of the Hindu majority against the ever present and ever-willing-to-pounce radical ulama faction which believed in a literal interpretation of Islamic strictures – the orthodox Islam preached by the descendants of Shah Waliullah – a contemporary of Ibn Abd al-Wahhab.

An impressive amount of legwork went into this book. Where short on available accounts, the author’s own vivid imagination and considerable familiarity with Delhi fills the void. Dalrymple, from all accounts, is in love with the Delhi that was – and no reader can resist a bit of second-hand nostalgia. His familiarity with the literary figures of those days is astounding. The detailed accounts of the lives of Zouq and Ghalib are a treat to read. There is even some humor – for example, when he describes how Ghalib counsels an acquaintance to take his lesson (in matters of love) from the wise fly who lands on sugar rather than the one who does so on honey (and gets stuck)!

That’s how it was. And then it came – the mutiny!

The vast majority of the sepoys were Hindus. Yet, they all came to Zafar to receive his barakkat (blessing). Because, in their eyes, Islamic rule is not what Zafar was about – he represented the legitimacy of being their own whereas the firangis represented what was alien. The Mughal king was essentially the glue which had held the Indian empire – and its masses, together. Although the dynasty had long ago lost the ability to project its power or to enforce any diktat – Indians of all varieties recognized its authority. It was – in some senses –an umbrella which provided a sense of belonging (if little else) to those under it – who then went around doing their own various little things without hindrance. Even the British had started out as vassals serving under that umbrella – acknowledging so on their minted coins until even five years earlier. Over time, they had usurped the king’s powers – even the power to name a successor. Now, there were plans to end the dynasty by not naming any. In that sense, Zafar and his princes had little to lose by signing on to the sepoys’ proposal to overthrow the British.

The Storm that Rained Tears

“ It is, I believe, no exaggeration to say, that all the historical information which has been collected from all the books written in the Sanscrit language is less valuable than what may be found in the most paltry abridgements used at preparatory schools in England. In every branch of physical or moral philosophy, the relative position of the two nations is nearly the same.� (Thomas Babington Macaulay, serving on the British Supreme Council for India, “Minutes of 2 February 1835 on Indian Education.�)

Dalrymple places the onus for the 1857 mutiny squarely on the British. While the new Enfeld gun cartridges (which required biting off the top and whose grease was rumored to be made from both cow and pig fats) were one apparent trigger, British racism was the underlying culprit. When coupled with the spirit of Christian Evangelism and the arrogance of having become the world’s most powerful country created a sense of superiority and a wholesale downgrading of an entire country and culture – of which the above quote is merely an illustration – and many key British players concluded to their own satisfaction that India and Indians had nothing of value to teach them and instead, its people were ripe for Christianization. This arrogance was so prevalent and the need to engage the natives so discounted that even what would be progressively-intended steps like the outlawing of the sati-pratha (1829), legislation allowing converts to inherit ancestral property (1832), and the construction of hospitals; were implemented capriciously, alienating many Indians who saw an unwanted intrusion into new areas – with the apparent objective of converting everyone to Christianity.

So the mutiny started. But who was fighting whom?

“…something that is often forgotten in accounts of life on the Ridge: the fact that just over half the soldiers, and almost all the vast support staff, were not British, but Indian.� (Dalrymple in Chapter entitled “Blood for Blood.�)

The 1857 mutiny has been called many things – including a war of independence, a bid to restore the Mughal rule, opposition to the firangis, etc. Per Dalrymple, it was all of those things but none of them exclusively. It was certainly more complex than a clear-cut British/Indian encounter. In addition to the fact pointed out above about the “British� side, the religious make-up on the “Indian� side was also quite complex. This mutiny was an “odd� sort of religious war in which a Muslim Emperor was pushed into rebellion against his Christian oppressors by a mutinous army of overwhelmingly Hindu sepoys who came of their own free will (and initially against his wishes) asking for barakkat, and sought his leadership. Later, the greatest threats to the unity of these forces came from the Muslim jihadis (who eventually made up half of the rebel army after many sepoys deserted). To counterattack, the British raised a new army that consisted of Pathan, Sikh and Punjabi Muslim irregulars.

It was unrealistic to expect Zafar to physically lead a rebellion – for one thing, he was old (82 when it all started). He had neither battle experience nor an appetite for it. His had been a sheltered and privileged life, a life of poetry, literature, cultural events and feasts – as happened during most of the Mughal rule. Then, on May 11 1857, the sepoys showed up in Delhi uninvited. Indecisive as he was, it took him very little time to bless their efforts. But he never was fully in command of them (or of the insurgency as a whole) and soon got disillusioned – often withdrawing into a world of his own. The individuals around him were involved in all kinds of plots. This included his favorite queen Zinat Mahal, who secretly carried out correspondence with the British and eventually worked out a deal to surrender and have their lives spared. The mutiny would have looked almost a hopeless cause from the very beginning.

Yet…

“…I candidly tell you that unless speedily reinforced, this force will soon be so reduced by casualties and sickness that nothing will be left, but a retreat to Kurnaul. The disasters attending such an unfortunate proceeding, I can not calculate.� (General Wilson’s letter to Sir John Lawrence in Lahore, 1857.)

The mutineers came surprisingly close to winning – without knowing it. Sure, the British had superior weapons, a clear strategy and access to the latest technology. But the seize of Delhi was like that of Stalingrad later during World War-II – whichever side would lose was almost sure of losing the whole war and both sides realized it well. Numerically, the sepoys overwhelmingly outnumbered the British. And, they were no less brave fighters or less accurate shooters. They had many key ingredients needed for victory, except the only thing that mattered.

The sepoys had neither a common vision/objective of what the mutiny was supposed to bring about nor an ability to make long term plans – for example, to sustain themselves through taxes. Unpaid, they soon resorted to looting common citizens, lost their goodwill which helped the British recruit many willing spies. Serious internal rifts hobbled them – for example, that between the jihadist Buxar Regiment (under Bakht Khan’s command) and the Hindu Nimach Troops. Many Gurkhas, Sikhs, and Pathans proved vicious fighters on the British side. What Mughals had done to the fifth and the ninth gurus of Sikhism came to haunt them in the aftermath of 1857 as Sikhs would be recruited in large numbers. Most sepoy officers had no prior experience in commanding groups larger than a hundred people. If all of it were not enough, Zafar himself never assumed a leadership role and kept detaching from the whole war – even threatening to go for Haz. The fractiousness was cleverly exploited by the British.

Rudra Dancing

One of the best things about this book is how it goes about recreating the Delhi that was – the reader is left with little doubt that Dalrymple is in love with his “City of Djinns�! His description of life as it then existed is pure magic. The reader is left in little doubt regarding Dalrymple’s fascination with the Mughals, particularly the “White� Mughals – the earlier British arrivals who had adapted to Indian ways and become Indian-like in many customs, traditions and living styles.

And what became of that Delhi after the British win?

“Delhi was now truly a city of the dead. The death-like silence of that Delhi was appalling. All you could see were empty houses.� (Harriet Tytler, British army wife and amateur artist, 1857.)

Most disturbing are the accounts of the destruction of Delhi. The damage was massive and occurred on three fronts – large swathes of population were “cleared� by killing off populations, there was wholesale demolition of historical buildings, and Delhi was destroyed as a center of culture. Hangings were widespread. The British were driven by a sense of rage and vengeance. Trials, if held, were arbitrary and sometimes sham. The large scale demolition of Delhi buildings included many located inside the Red Fort. Many irreplaceable works of art simply disappeared. Libraries were destroyed on a large scale. Intellectuals (mostly Muslims) either ran away or were killed off. While Delhi would eventually be restored as the seat of power and a center of commerce, its prominent cultural role achieved over several centuries would never return.

Just how bad was it for its people?

“Had you been here, you would have seen the ladies of the Fort moving about the city, their faces as fair as the moon and their clothes dirty, their pajama legs torn, and their slippers falling to pieces.� (Ghalib describing the plight of Mughal begums in a letter to his friend Mirza Tafta.)

The most disturbing accounts in the book are the ordeals of the average citizens. First looted by the sepoys, they suffered even more hardships during the British seize and when the British won, they were not only looted but suffered results of the British vengeance on a large scale.

The ordeal of the women was particularly hard. Sometimes the British spared them and focused on killing men, but many Indian soldiers on the British side were not bound by any sense of propriety in treating the defeated, especially when their officers sought vengeance. Even when spared, many of the women (including some minor begums from the Red Fort) – left destitute and without their men – were forced into prostitution.

The accounts of the British cruelty often send shivers down the reader’s spine. Some of the perpetrators had suffered personal losses during the mutiny but most were merely driven by their sense of righteousness. There was never any serious introspection on their part. Instead, there was a wholesale demonization of Indians in general and Muslims in particular. The retribution from the Muslims was proportionately far more severe. For example, for nearly two years, the Muslims kicked out of Delhi were not allowed back in. The English press made caricatures of “Bad Muslims� all over the place. For the first time in the history of India – Muslims, who had earlier been a privileged minority – felt helpless to control their own destiny.

Did the British feel any compunction?!

“Heaven knows I feel no pity – but when some old grey bearded man is brought and shot before your very eyes – hard must be that man’s heart I think who can look on with indifference. And yet it must be so for these black wretches shall atone with their blood for our murdered countrymen…� (British officer Edward Vibart, one of those who took part in the massacre around Delhi Gate, in a letter to his uncle, September 1857.)

The above quote is from an active combatant. However, the sentiments would have been uniformly the same for virtually all the British noncombatants also. The ambivalence shown by many British Christians toward the cruelty to the Indians in the aftermath of 1857 is rather similar to the ambivalence bordering on racism which was shown by the Western world following the perpetration of the 9/11 outrage.

Episodes of severe brutality abound in the book – particularly those in the aftermath of the fall of Delhi. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of innocent Indians were summarily executed or hung without any due process worth the name. Many had not helped the sepoys by choice – but were punished anyway. Cruelty was the order of the day – some even ensuring that the hangmen under their command use short ropes for hanging so the person being hanged would not die instantaneously (of a broken neck) but writhe in agony while suffocating to death. It is said that the executioners were bribed by the crowds of British soldiers standing around making sure that the hangmen kept their victims a long time dying – as they liked to see the criminals dance ‘a Pandie’s hornpipe.’ It is also said that some hangmen experimented with “artistic� methods of dispatching their victims “in figures of eight.� Hodson and Theo Metcalf emerge as particularly brutal British characters in their treatment of Indians.

The book also chronicles the life stories of many other secondary individuals from those days – both Indian and British. Tales of Palace intrigue – including those of jockeying for succession and power make the book an interesting read.

In the end, the overall effect of the book is like having taken an expertly-guided walk down a rather unfamiliar alley which one has heard of a lot but not observed at close hand. In the process, one can not help but feel a degree of fondness for the alley which was once there, which was beautiful, and which has now been irreparably destroyed. One feels sorry for its inhabitants who had little say in the matter and one is left with a sense of longing for those inhabitants and a never-to-be-fulfilled wanting to assuage their losses.

So, one can empathize with individuals like the Nawab of Jhajhar who is snatched away from his two young sons to be hanged, one can empathize with the wife of Jawan Bakht married off at ten then incarcerated with her abusive husband, one can empathize with the few Mughal princes who actually rose to the opportunity provided by the mutiny to prove their bravery and fight the British, trying to reclaim the lost glory of the days past – we feel sadness for the way Hodson kills them in cold blood after surrender and loots their belongings and dumps the naked bodies for public view, and we feel sorrow for Zafar spending his last few years of life in a room only slightly larger than most of our bedroom closets.

The Ways of Our Fathers

When the last of the Mughals was forcibly removed from his throne (and the further ignominy of a fake trial and incarceration imposed) it also removed an agent of harmony, an arbiter and a guarantor of the interests of all Indian citizens. The British never really tried to assume that role – their role had been always to exert absolute power and dominance – not to generate the consent of the governed. We will never know what, after an eventual British pull-out, a united India would have been like. However, it is evident to even the casual reader of Dalrymple’s book that the separation that would occurr in 1947 was only the finale of a long-running event whose Act I occurred in 1857 itself. The large-scale transfer of property ownership from Muslims of Delhi (who were banished) to rich Hindus who could pay the lowered price was a preview of numerous such transactions that would occur – on a magnified scale and on both sides of the border – in the aftermath of Partition. The opportunism shown by individuals to further their own selfish motives – be it the grabbing of property, the looting of vulnerable refugees, the molesting of women, and an inability to fight together; were indicative of serious fissures in the society which would eventually tear it apart. All that remained then – and would come later – was the formulation of political grievances – some legitimate and some less so.

The most serious fallout of the 1857 event was the split/rift within the Indian Muslims themselves. The king had exerted authority over the ulama – who obeyed him as the khalifa, though criticizing him for having picked too many “Hindu� practices. Once the king was removed from the picture, there was no restraining hand to moderate the radicals. While some Muslims concluded that the only way to survive was to look to the West and to embrace Western learning, the other group rejected the West entirely and focused on purely Islamic roots. The former group would create the Aligarh Muslim University and the latter group would set up the Deoband madrassah. The rest would become history, of course!

Are there more parallels from the current times? Actually, yes!

“…for those who have come to die have no need for food!� (Slogan of the “suicide ghazis� from Gwalior who had vowed never to eat again until they met death at the hands of the (British) “kafirs�, September 1857.)

It is an interesting observation that the fiercest of the fighters in 1857 – as now, were the Islamic jihadis. There are many more unmistakable parallels with contemporary events. For example, the ferocious, self-satisfied and know-all attitude of response by the Christians of Britain and the violent response and callousness toward the sufferings of the innocents can be compared with the attitude shown by some of the contemporary jihadis and affiliated groups. In both cases, there was a serious lack of introspection by the crusading side, the “other� was demonized in no uncertain terms and considered less than human and accordingly, considered very dispensable without a cause for lament or regret.

What would have been the last thoughts of the last Mughal?

“ do gaj zamin bhi na mili kuu-e-yaar meiN…� (Popular song sung by Muhammad Rafi in the movie “Lal Qila.�)

Will the last Mughal ever make it home? The home where he rightfully belongs?!

Perhaps a day will come when the average people of the subcontinent can see the power of this benign individual to bring about togetherness between communities and grant to him the one thing he really yearned for – to be buried next to his forefathers. But what will be really useful would be to recognize the role, the significance, and understand the realities related to the last Mughal. Both Indians and Pakistanis can benefit from an insight into how his forced downfall molded their own destinies and shaped them into the current entities that they are.

For an idealist’s outcome, the last Mughal ought to be brought “home� by having his history righted and the value of his symbolism recognized – by the very people of the subcontinent who now go about flailing – searching and even creating different and separate pasts of each ones.

Separate pasts – which don’t even exist!

Because it was the shared past which was real and had been good to most of our forefathers and which cries out for its due credit. The Past! When we see its beauty and keep its lessons in mind – we are more likely to be watchful to not repeat some of its mistakes and we would also try to appreciate – and perhaps preserve – bits of some of the old-time virtues a bit more tenaciously.

Neither India nor Pakistan can fully come to terms with themselves unless they both see this simple man in his eighties for what he was, appreciate him for his power to bond us as one people – not through force, for he had none at his disposal, but through the words of love that he promoted – and of which he had plenty. The day we accomplish that feat will be the day when – like those long-ago sepoys – we can come to his grave, say our prayers and seek his aashirvaad, his barakkat, for the better days ahead!

He would have given it to all of us without reservation – this last Mughal of India – for he, with all his limitations, was one of our own and was legitimately so!

And he would not have made a distinction!

(The Last Mughal, by William Dalrymple, ISBN-978-1-4000-4310-1, published by Alfred A. Knopf, New York)