THE MANY LIVES OF
A RAJPUT QUEEN
THE MANY LIVES OF
A RAJPUT QUEEN
Heroic Pasts in India
c. 1500–1900
Ramya Sreenivasan
Copyright © 2007 Ramya Sreenivasan
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sreenivasan, Ramya.
The many lives of a Rajput queen : heroic pasts in India c. 1500-1900 / Ramya Sreenivasan.
p. cm.
Based on the author’s thesis (Ph. D.—Jawaharlal Nehru University).
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978-0-295-98732-3 (hardback : alk. paper)
ISBN-13: 978-0-295-98760-6 (pbk. : alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-295-98732-4 (hardback : alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-295-98760-X (pbk. : alk. paper)
1. India—Historiography. 2. Padmavati, Queen, consort of Ratana Simha I, Rana of Chitor, fl. 1303—In literature. 3. National characteristics, East Indian, in literature. 4. Collective memory—India—History. I. Title.
DS435.S68 2007
954.02’34072—dc22 2007010377
The paper used in this publication is acid-free and 90 percent recycled from at least 50 percent post-consumer waste. It meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Note on Transliteration and Usage
List of Maps
1 Introduction
2 Sufi Tale of Rajputs in Sixteenth-century Avadh
3 Rajput Kings and their Pasts in the Mughal Period
4 Tales of Past Glory under Early Colonial Indirect Rule (c. 1750–1850)
5 Exemplary Patriotism in the Late Nineteenth Century
6 Conclusion
7 Appendix 1: Summaries of Selected Versions of the Legend
8 Appendix 2: List of Known Versions/Manuscripts/Editions of the Padmini Legend
Bibliography
Index
Acknowledgments
THIS BOOK WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT the foundational scholarship of Hazariprasad Dwivedi, Mataprasad Gupta, Vasudev Sharan Agrawal, Acharya Jinavijay Muni, Agarchand Nahta, Bhanwarlal Nahta, Shyam Manohar Pandey, Brahmohan Jawaliya, Narain Singh Bhati, and Hukam Singh Bhati. Since the 1940s, these pioneers have recovered and explored an astonishingly rich corpus of literary and historical materials from the medieval and early modern periods, both for Rajasthan and the Hindi belt.
The book grew out of a PhD dissertation at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. I am grateful to my advisors, Harbans Mukhia, Meenakshi Mukherjee, and G.J.V. Prasad, for their guidance during my initial forays into cultural history. I am especially indebted to Professor Mukhia for introducing me to the complexities of Mughal history. My early thinking on the historicity of narratives and culture was influenced by many rich discussions with Svati Joshi, Uma Chakravarti, the late Sudesh Vaid, Carla Petievich, and Kathryn Hansen. I am grateful to all of them. I owe a special debt of gratitude to Cynthia Talbot who read an early draft, and helped me to strengthen many a tentative formulation and achieve greater clarity. I also benefited from the critiques of Kumkum Sangari and Monica Juneja, who helped me re-evaluate my approach to writing cultural history as I began the task of transforming the dissertation into a book.
Indrani Chatterjee read several drafts and offered many, many suggestions on the content and organization, that led to several new insights and a stronger argument. I am deeply indebted to her. I am also deeply grateful to Sumit Guha and K. Sivaramakrishnan for their encouragement, careful reading of earlier drafts, and substantive critiques. The two anonymous referees for Permanent Black suggested ways of contextualizing the argument for readers not familiar with South Asian history: the final structure of the book owes much to their constructive criticisms.
David Curley, Frances Taft, Gary Handwerk, David Gilmartin, and Roger Des Forges read parts or all of earlier versions of the manuscript: their comments have helped enrich the argument. Thanks also to Susan Cahn and Niharika Banerjee for their careful reading of parts of the finished manuscript. Rukun Advani of Permanent Black readily agreed to consider this work for publication after peer review, and then waited patiently for several years for the manuscript to materialize. Both he and Michael Duckworth at the University of Washington Press have been very supportive of an author publishing her first book. Aditya Behl, Thomas de Bruijn, and Prachi Deshpande generously shared unpublished work with me. I am particularly indebted to Behl and de Bruijn for their suggestive insights on locating Jayasi within his historical context.
I am grateful to Vijaya Ramaswamy, Monica Juneja, Kumkum Roy, Michelle Maskiell, Vasudha Dalmia, Phillip Wagoner, Keith Snodgrass, Frances Taft, and Dan White for inviting me to present parts of this work at the following venues, where it benefited from the critical responses of a wider audience: Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi University, the Indian Institute for Advanced Study, Shimla, the University of Washington, the South Asia Conference at the University of Wisconsin at Madison, Columbia University, and the South Asia Conference at the University of California at Berkeley. Parts of Chapter 2 have appeared earlier in Unfamiliar Relations: Family and History in South Asia, edited by Indrani Chatterjee (Rutgers University Press and Permanent Black, 2004), while parts of Chapters 3, 4, and Appendix 2 have appeared in A Wilderness of Possibilities: Urdu Studies in Transnational Perspective, edited by Kathryn Hansen and David Lelyveld (Oxford University Press, 2005).
I thank Miranda House for the study leave necessary to pursue this research, and the Charles Wallace India Trust for a grant to consult archives in London. I am indebted to the South Asia Center at the Universiy of Washington, the History Department at Kenyon College, and the History Department at the University at Buffalo for their support during the writing of this book. I am also grateful for the assistance provided by the Julian Park Fund, College of Arts and Sciences, University at Buffalo.
Professor Mohammad Arif arranged accommodation for me at Varanasi and shared his knowledge of contemporary local politics at Jayas. Jason Freitag generously directed me to an uncatalogued box of manuscript notebooks belonging to James Tod at the Royal Asiatic Society, London. The staff at the British Library (Oriental and India Office Collections), the Royal Asiatic Society, London, Nagari Pracharini Sabha, Varanasi, Acharya Shri Kailassagarsuri Gyan Mandir (Koba, Gujarat), and the Rajasthan Oriental Research Institute, Jodhpur, made the task of tracing primary sources less onerous. Mohabat Singh Rathor at the Pratap Shodh Sansthan, Bhupal Nobles College, Udaipur, directed me to the remarkable Chitor Udaipur Patnama some years before it was published, while Ishwar Singh Ranavat and Mrs Dhak made special arrangements for me to copy large portions of the manuscript. I am indebted to Rajendra Singhvi of Rajasthani Granthagar, Jodhpur, for providing me with several primary and secondary sources on Rajasthan. Dilip Basu allowed me to borrow a treasured heirloom�
��his copy of the original edition of Yajneshwar Bandopadhyay’s translation of Tod, published in 1884. The Euless Public Library, the University of Washington Libraries, Kenyon College Library, and the University at Buffalo Libraries procured numerous books through inter-library loan, enabling me to complete the research and writing of this book. I am grateful to all of them.
I thank my parents, Geetha, Rama, and Minnie for their help. Also, special thanks to Sreeni: his layman’s healthy curiosity and persistent questions made the writing of this book almost fun.
My grandmothers urged me to study, to compensate for their lack of formal education. This book is dedicated to them and to Sudesh Vaid, from whom I learnt much.
I, of course, remain solely responsible for all errors and omissions.
Note on Transliteration and Usage
On the assumption that readers of Indian languages do not require diacritics and others will find them cumbersome, I have used the customary English spelling for Indian language words and place names prevalent in India.
Transliteration from the Bengali follows the same principle of intelligibility to a non-Bengali audience; hence I use the Sanskritized form rather than convey actual pronunciation.
For similar reasons, I have not distinguished the Urdu alef from ain.
Where I cite the work of other scholars, I use their transliteration and spelling.
Common words from Indian languages, such as pandit and brahmin, are not italicized.
All translations are mine except where indicated otherwise.
List of Maps
1 Narratives of Padmini of Chitor, circa 1540–1590
2 Narratives and manuscripts about Padmini of Chitor, circa 1590–1750
3 Narratives and manuscripts about Padmini of Chitor, circa 1750–1850
4 Narratives, editions, and manuscripts about Padmini of Chitor, circa 1850–1930
1
Introduction
PADMINI, BELIEVED TO HAVE BEEN THE RAJPUT QUEEN OF Mewar (in modern Rajasthan) in the early fourteenth century, has become one of the most familiar figures from the medieval past in modern India. To outline the shape of the story as it is largely remembered today: she was so renowned for her beauty that Alauddin Khalji, the Sultan of Delhi, was determined to obtain her for himself. Unable at first to conquer the formidable fortress of Chitor ruled by Padmini’s husband, Alauddin offered to withdraw his troops if he could but catch a glimpse of her. In fact, as it happened, he could only gaze at her reflected image because the Rajput queen would not appear before a stranger. Entranced by her beauty, and even more determined to obtain her, the sultan tricked her husband into captivity. The Rajputs plotted their king’s release by pretending to surrender the queen; a procession of palanquins reached the sultan’s camp, and hidden Rajput soldiers sprang out and freed their king. An enraged Alauddin laid siege again to the fortress. Faced with certain defeat, the Rajput women led by Padmini immolated themselves. Their men were killed in a final battle as the sultan conquered the mighty kingdom of Chitor.
Lindsey Harlan’s ethnographic research has revealed that some elite Rajput women in Rajasthan today regard the story as historical, and Padmini as exemplifying ideal Rajput womanhood.1 The same version of the legend is also apparent in the comic book Padmini, published in the enormously successful “Amar Chitra Katha” series with the subtitle “The Glorious Heritage of India.” Its preface asserts the significance of Padmini’s story:
In the history of India, Padmini of Chittor holds a very prominent position. She was a perfect model of ideal Indian womanhood. The values cherished by her were threatened by Alauddin Khilji, the mighty Afghan king of Delhi. A lesser woman would not have been able to face Alauddin. But Padmini was not an ordinary woman. She faced her problems with exceptional courage, a living example of virtuous womanhood.2
The comic book thus claims that Padmini was a historical figure, that she represents ideal Indian womanhood rather than merely Rajput norms, and that these ideal Indian values were threatened by the Afghan emperor of Delhi. Such assertions articulate the widespread assumption that conflict between religious communities in India was pervasive over the last millennium, and that Hindu women were peculiarly vulnerable in such conflict. In the popular domain within which such comic books circulate, subcontinental history from the eleventh century onwards is invariably perceived as perennial resistance by patriotic Hindus against successive Muslim invasions and conquests.
Over the last two decades, Hindu majoritarian organizations in India have deployed such narratives of their alleged humiliation by Muslims in medieval times, to organize increasingly efficient pogroms against the country’s sizeable Muslim minority. This has at times become an avenue to capturing political power. Such groups have also sought to endow several popular narratives with the authority of historical discourse by introducing them into school textbooks: both Hindu majoritarian and regional chauvinist groups have attacked the methods and findings of history as a discipline. Historians, in turn, have begun to respond by subjecting the key events and characters of this majoritarian narrative to renewed scrutiny.3 In particular, they have turned their attention to the relationship between a historical event and the multiple, often competing, perspectives on it that emerged as memory in later centuries; and to the relationship between historiographic traditions and popular memory. This book is a contribution to that collective project.
Multiple narratives of Padmini of Chitor first emerged in the sixteenth century, and survived over the next four centuries. The first known narrative is Malik Muhammad Jayasi’s Padmavat (1540) in Avadhi (now classified as a dialect of Hindi in central Uttar Pradesh). Heroic romances—in which princes embarked on dangerous quests to woo and wed princesses of fabled beauty and wealth—were common to many literary traditions in medieval North India. The Padmavat was a Sufi mystical adaptation of this formula and inspired at least a dozen translations and adaptations into Persian and Urdu between the sixteenth and twentieth centuries.4 In a second and parallel version, narratives of Padmini were produced in more avowedly historical genres in the Rajput chiefdoms of Rajasthan between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries, with the first known version being composed in 1589. We do not know if the Padmavat circulated widely in this region, about 600 miles to the west of Avadh. What is clear is that the narratives in Rajasthan, patronized by local Rajput elites, diverged sharply from Jayasi’s account. The focus in Rajasthan was not on courting and marrying the queen—an emphasis that had been central to Jayasi’s Sufi ethic. Instead, these somewhat later narratives of Padmini focused on the exemplary honor of the Rajputs in defending their queen and kingdom against Sultan Alauddin Khalji.
In the early nineteenth century James Tod, Resident of the East India Company to the Rajput States, compiled his account of the region’s history based on the oral and textual traditions of Charans, Bhats, and Jains—these being the chroniclers, genealogists, and scholars to the Rajput chiefs. Tod’s Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan (1829–32, henceforth Annals) recast pre-colonial Rajput traditions within a colonial perspective which shaped his retelling of the Padmini story as well. Subsequently, in a fourth major revision, the reception of the Annals in late-nineteenth-century Bengal produced at least a dozen Bengali versions, mainly from the new middle class, the bhadralok. These Bengali narratives reinterpreted the legend yet again to celebrate a Hindu queen who had immolated herself to defend her chastity against a lustful, treacherous Muslim invader. For the Bengali bhadralok, the legend came to exemplify a reinterpretation of the emerging nation’s medieval history in which “patriotic Hindu” had resisted “Muslim invader.” Other nineteenth-century versions of the Padmini legend, however, did not conform to the template evolved by the Bengali bhadralok. Urdu versions continued to adhere to the Padmavat tradition until the early twentieth century, as they retold Padmini’s story within the received conventions of Persian and Urdu love poetry.
This book traces the trajectories of these multiple narrative tradit
ions of Padmini, and locates them within the historical moments in which they were produced and circulated. Over the last five centuries, a variety of Padmini legends emerged in regional polities, serving particular local groups to repeatedly evoke a remembered past. The nature of these evocations was tied to the specific historical contexts in which they occurred. Further, as narratives of a heroic queen, these mutations of the Padmini legend shed light on histories of gender relations among the social groups involved. Authors and patrons—of narratives of a virtuous queen confronting an enemy king—repeatedly used them to articulate the gendered norms of particular elites in a range of disparate political formations—from a seventeenth-century Rajput kingdom at the margins of an imperial order to emerging middle-class (and upper-caste) nationalism in colonial Bengal.
Fourteenth-century accounts that described Alauddin Khalji’s conquest of Chitor did not mention Padmini at all. The absence of any contemporaneous evidence, material or literary, strongly suggests that the figure of the queen became associated only later with memories of the Delhi sultan’s conquest of Chitor. And yet, between the sixteenth and twentieth centuries, in several regions and languages, the legend was repeatedly remembered and retold within particular communities, coloured by their own concerns of the moment. Tracing this trajectory helps to illuminate the construction and transmission of historical memory and literary traditions about the past in this later period, rather than to establish the precise nature of the campaigns of a Delhi sultan or his siege of Chitor in the early fourteenth century.
History, Memory, and Narratives of the Past in South Asia
Historical scholarship on memory has grown dramatically in recent years, partly as significant collectivities have challenged dominant nation-building projects and their nationalist historiographies in various parts of the world, and partly under the stimulus of postmodern critiques of the historical discipline. In South Asia the emergence of Tamil separatism in Sri Lanka in the 1980s provided the context for rich explorations of remembered Sinhala and Tamil pasts.5 In India the impetus was provided by the movement beginning in the late 1980s for a Rama temple and culminating in the destruction of a sixteenth-century mosque in the town of Ayodhya, now asserted to have been constructed on the precise site of the Hindu god’s birth. Among the multiple arguments that proponents of the temple used were appeals to the religious sentiment of Hindus; if people believed that the god Rama was born at the site, then historians’ refutations based on archaeological evidence were redundant.6 The success of the political party leading the temple movement in subsequent elections and its pronounced majoritarian tilt led to organized assaults on historical scholarship and, increasingly, attacks on individual historians, along with attempts to introduce a glorious ancient past in school history textbooks.7
The Many Lives of a Rajput Queen Page 1
