The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate

by Abraham Eraly

  Characteristically, Muhammad then swung from one extreme posture to its total opposite, from callousness and brutality to compassion and humanism. To relieve people from the horrors of famine he then ordered grain to be issued to them from the royal granary, and he set up public kitchens to feed the destitute. Also, he tried to revive cultivation by advancing loans to farmers from the treasury to buy seeds and plough-cattle, but ‘want of rain prevented cultivation,’ so the misery of the people continued, notes Barani.

  THE MOST RADICAL of the economic reforms of Muhammad was the introduction of token currency in the fifth year of his reign, when he issued brass or copper coins on par with the value of his silver tanka coins. He did this, according to Barani, to raise funds to finance his grandiose plan to conquer the whole known world. Besides, the sultan’s ‘bounty and munificence had caused a great deficiency in the treasury,’ and that had to be rectified. ‘So he introduced the copper money, and gave orders that it should be used in buying and selling, and should … [be accepted as legal tender] just as the gold and silver coins [were accepted].’

  It is likely that Muhammad was inspired to introduce token currency by what he had learnt about its use in China (which had been using paper currency for some centuries) and Persia (which had adopted the practice in the thirteenth century). The idea of introducing token currency in India excited the sultan, as he had a compulsive need to try something new every now and then. Besides, he considered it as the best solution to the financial problems he faced. However, unlike the Chinese who took elaborate measures to prevent forgeries of paper currency and punished counterfeiters with death, Muhammad did not have the administrative will and skill to execute the scheme effectively. So it failed utterly.

  The token coins that Muhammad issued were easily counterfeited. ‘Every goldsmith struck copper coins in his workshop,’ states Barani. ‘The promulgation of the edict [about token currency] turned the house of every Hindu into a mint, and Hindus of the various provinces coined lakhs and crores of copper coins. With these they paid their tribute, and with these they purchased horses, arms, and fine things of all kinds. The rais, the village headmen and landowners, grew rich and strong upon these copper coins, but the state was impoverished.’

  Soon it came to be that people in their everyday transactions would accept copper coins only for the value of its metal, not for its inscribed value. But everyone paid their dues to the government in copper coins, often in forged coins. In consequence of this, the treasury, according to Barani, ‘was filled with copper coins. So low did they fall [in value] that they were not valued more than pebbles or potsherds.’ As Badauni wryly comments, ‘After all, copper was copper, and silver was silver.’

  When the sultan found that his token currency project had failed, and that it was ruining the finances of the state, he abandoned it, ‘and in great wrath he proclaimed that whoever possessed copper coins should bring them to the treasury and receive gold [or silver] coins in exchange,’ reports Barani. That in effect meant that the government now bought copper at the price of silver or gold. ‘Thousands of men from various quarters, who possessed thousands of these copper coins … now brought them to the treasury, [and received in exchange gold and silver coins] … So many of these copper coins were brought to the treasury, that heaps of them rose up in Tughluqabad like mountains.’ The abject failure of the token currency project further embittered Muhammad, and ‘he more than ever turned against his subjects.’

  ANOTHER GOOD INTENTIONED scheme of Muhammad that failed miserably was the shifting of his capital from Delhi to Devagiri, nearly a thousand kilometres to the south. Devagiri was in a fairly central location in the Sultanate, and in those of days of slow communication and travel it certainly was a political and military advantage to locate the capital there, especially as Muhammad had extended his direct rule deep into South India. Besides, Devagiri, unlike Delhi, was well beyond the reach of Mongols, who were a perennial menace to the Sultanate.

  Apart from these locational advantages, Devagiri had the advantage of having an impregnable fort atop a high, rocky and precipitous hill which, from the security point of view, was an excellent place for the sultan to reside in those turbulent times. Moreover, to live in a place far above his subjects suited Muhammad’s exalted view of his personal eminence.

  The plan to shift the capital to Devagiri was therefore on the whole sensible, and it deserved to succeed. But it failed. It failed because it was an abrupt, impulsive, personal decision of the sultan, which was made, as Barani stresses, ‘without any consultation, and without carefully examining its advantages and disadvantages on every side.’ But more than that, the move failed because Muhammad not only shifted his capital to Devagiri, but vindictively insisted that the entire population of Delhi also should move to it.

  Muhammad’s decision to shift the capital to Devagiri was made in 1327, in the second year of his reign, but there is some confusion about whether he initially meant only to relocate there the royal court, its offices and staff, or whether he wanted all the people of Delhi also to move there. The reports of Barani and Battuta, both contemporary chroniclers, speak of the forced shift of the entire population of Delhi to Devagiri, but while Barani implies (though he does not state it explicitly) that this was essentially an administrative measure, Battuta describes it as a punitive measure against the people of Delhi because of their animosity to the sultan. It is probable that the shifting of the capital was effected in two phases, as later medieval chroniclers like Badauni, Ferishta and Sirhindi indicate—a first phase in which the royal court was shifted there as an administrative measure, and a second phase a couple of years later in which the entire population of Delhi was forced to move there as a punitive measure. Asking all the people of Delhi to move to Devagiri in the first instance was far too senseless a measure even for a weird eccentric like Muhammad to conceive and execute, though it was not entirely beyond him.

  Muhammad renamed Devagiri (Mountain of Gods) as Daulatabad (Abode of Prosperity) and in a few of years it did indeed become, true to its new name, a great and splendid city, as royal officers and others dependent on the court built their residences there, and opulent bazaars and other facilities suitable for a royal capital were set up there. Battuta, who visited Daulatabad some years later, found it to be an ‘enormous city which rivals Delhi … in importance and in the spaciousness of its planning.’

  MUHAMMAD’S DECISION TO shift his residence to Devagiri would have been quite upsetting to the people of Delhi, for the royal court was the very heart of Delhi, and its transfer from there would have rendered the city lifeless. The people of Delhi therefore had good reason to resent the sultan’s decision, and they seem to have expressed their feelings about it by sending anonymous abusive letters to him, and that was probably what roused his wrath and prompted him to order the complete evacuation of Delhi.

  According to Battuta, the people of Delhi ‘used to write missives reviling and insulting’ the sultan, seal them and throw then into the audience hall at night, with a warning written on them that they should be opened only by the sultan. ‘When the sultan broke their seal [and opened the letters] he found them full of insults and abuse. He [therefore] decided to lay Delhi in ruins, and having bought from all the inhabitants their houses … and paid them the price of them, he commanded them to move to Daulatabad. But they refused. So a crier was sent around the city to proclaim that no one should remain in the city after three nights. The majority [of the residents there] then complied with the order, but some of them hid in the houses. The sultan then ordered a search to be made for any persons remaining in the town, and his slaves found two men in the streets, a cripple and a blind man. They were brought before him and he gave orders that the cripple should be flung from a mangonel, and that the blind man dragged from Delhi to Daulatabad, a distance of forty days’ journey. He fell to pieces on the road and of him all that reached Daulatabad was his leg. When the sultan did this, every person left the town, abandoning furn
iture and possessions, and the city remained utterly deserted … [Then] one night the sultan mounted to the roof of his palace and looked out over Delhi, where there was neither fire nor smoke nor lamp, and he said, “Now my mind is tranquil and my wrath appeased.” Afterwards he wrote to the inhabitants of the other cities commanding them to move to Delhi to repopulate it. The result was only to ruin their cities and leave Delhi still unpopulated, because of its immensity, for it is one of the greatest cities in the world. It was in this state that we found it on our arrival, empty and unpopulated, save for a few inhabitants.’

  Barani concurs with Battuta that the shifting of the capital to Devagiri was disastrous. ‘It brought ruin upon Delhi, the city which … had grown in prosperity, and rivalled Baghdad and Cairo,’ he writes. ‘So complete was its ruin that not a cat or a dog was left among the buildings of the city, in its palaces or in its suburbs. Troops of the natives, with their families and dependents, wives and children, men servants and maid servants, were forced to move [to Devagiri]. The people, who for many … generations had been … the inhabitants of … [Delhi], were broken-hearted. Many, from the toils of the long journey, perished on the road, and those who arrived at Devagiri could not endure the pain of exile. They pined to death in despondency.’

  Though Muhammad took care to provide various facilities for the migrants on their long journey, and helped them to settle in Devagiri, none of that compensated them for their mental agony due to the loss of their traditional domicile. ‘The sultan,’ continues Barani, ‘was bounteous in his liberality and favours to the emigrants, both on their journey and on their arrival; but they were tender, and could not endure the exile and suffering … Of all the multitudes of emigrants, few only survived to return to their home’ when the sultan later re-shifted the capital to Delhi.

  Daulatabad remained the capital of the Sultanate for eight years. When Muhammad finally gave permission to the migrants to return to Delhi, most of them joyfully went back, though some, ‘with whom the Maratha country agreed, remained in Devagiri with their wives and children,’ notes Barani. But even with the return of a large number of people to Delhi, ‘not a thousandth part of the [original] population [of Delhi] remained.’

  MUHAMMAD HAD MUCH more success in his military campaigns for expanding the territory of his empire than in his administrative reforms. This was partly because his reign was relatively free of Mongol raids. There was only one major incursion into the Sultanate by Mongols during his reign. This was in 1327, early in Muhammad’s reign, when they invaded India under the command of the Chagatai chief Tarmashirin, a Buddhist turned Muslim. The Mongol objective, as usual, was to gather plunder, not to conquer territory, so they stormed eastward through the Indo-Gangetic Plain and advanced as far as Meerut close to Delhi, pillaging and ravaging the land all along the way, and slaughtering people indiscriminately. According to Ferishta, Muhammad then bought them off with a huge ransom, and they sped back home, once again pillaging and ravaging the land all along the way. According to another account, Muhammad made a show of pursuing the Mongols up to Kalanaur in Punjab, a town that now enters history for the first time, where Mughal emperor Akbar would be born 215 years later.

  Another aspect of Muhammad’s policy towards Mongols was to try and absorb them into Indian population. According to Barani ‘the sultan supported and patronised Mongols,’ and he induced many thousands of them to come with their families and settle in India, by conferring on them various favours and spending vast sums of money on them, probably in the hope that these fierce warriors would strengthen his army and help him to achieve his various ambitious plans for conquest. But rather than adding to the strength and stability of the Sultanate, Mongol migrants only added to the turmoil of Muhammad’s reign.

  Despite that setback there was, during Muhammad’s reign, a significant expansion of the territory of the Sultanate, deep into South India. But in the end even that turned out to be counterproductive. Unlike Ala-ud-din Khalji’s sensible policy of not annexing distant territories that he could not effectively rule, but only of establishing his suzerainty over them, Muhammad sought to annex all the lands he conquered, and early in his reign he extended his direct rule deep into the peninsula as far as Madurai. Virtually all of India, except Kashmir and Kerala at the far ends of the subcontinent, and a few small tracts in between, then came under the direct rule of Delhi.

  But Muhammad was not content with this. ‘The sultan in his lofty ambition had conceived it to be his mission in life to subdue the whole habitable world and bring it under his rule,’ notes Barani. Shortly after the Mongol invasion early in his reign, Muhammad dreamed up a plan to conquer Central Asia—if Central Asians could invade India, why not Indians invade Central Asia? For this project the sultan recruited a vast army of 370,000 cavalry, which was maintained by him for a year, but was not deployed in any campaign, so that ‘when the next year came around there were not sufficient funds in the treasury … to support them,’ so they were disbanded, records Barani.

  The sultan did however launch a military campaign into the western Himalayan foothills, perhaps in preparation for an invasion of Central Asia, as Barani states, or for an invasion of China, as Ferishta states. But this turned out to be an absolute disaster, as heavy rains impeded the army’s progress, and diseases ravaged soldiers and horses. Beset by these troubles, the hapless army retreated in disorder, but they were then brutally set on by the local people. ‘The whole force was thus destroyed … and out of all this chosen body of men only ten horsemen returned to Delhi to tell the news of its discomfiture,’ reports Barani. The net result of Muhammad’s plans for foreign conquests was that, as Barani comments, ‘the coveted countries were not acquired, but those which he possessed were lost; and his treasure, which is the true source of political power, was expended.’

  MUHAMMAD WAS BEDEVILLED by endless problems in the latter part of his reign. His vast empire then began to disintegrate, and large chunks of it broke away. And he had little control even over the remaining territories, as countless rebellions raged through the empire like wild fires. The man who wanted to rule the world could hardly control his own backyard.

  ‘Disaffection and disturbances arose on every side,’ Barani reports, ‘and as they gathered strength, the sultan became more exasperated and more severe with his subjects. But his severities only increased the distress of the people … Insurrection followed upon insurrection … The people were alienated. No place remained secure, all order and regularity were lost, and the throne was tottering to its fall.’ Muhammad was well aware that his repressive measures were counterproductive, but still would not modify his policy. ‘When I collect my forces and put them (the rebels) down in one direction, they excite disturbance in some other quarter,’ he once told Barani. ‘My kingdom is diseased, and no treatment cures it. The physician cures the headache, but fever follows; he strives to allay the fever, and something else supervenes.’

  The empire was clearly swirling into anarchy. What could be done about it? What had former kings done in similar circumstances, the sultan once asked Barani. Barani replied in detail to that query, and concluded: ‘Of all political ills, the greatest and the most dire is the general feeling of aversion … among all ranks of people.’ But Muhammad asserted that he would not change his ways, whatever be the reaction of the people. ‘At present I am angry with my subjects, and they are aggrieved with me,’ he told Barani. ‘The people are acquainted with my feelings, and I am aware of their misery and wretchedness. No treatment that I employ is of any benefit. My remedy for rebels, insurgents, opponents, and disaffected people is the sword. I employ punishment and use the sword, so that a cure may be affected by suffering. The more the people resist, the more I inflict chastisement.’

  Barani could have then told the sultan that the problem was not with the people, but with the sultan. But he dared not say that. ‘I could not help feeling a desire to tell the sultan that the troubles and revolts which were breaking out on every side, and t
his general disaffection, all arose from the excessive severity of His Majesty, and that if punishments were suspended for a while, a better feeling might spring up, and mistrust be removed from the hearts of the people,’ Barani confesses. ‘But I dreaded the temper of the king and could not say what I desired.’

  THE FIRST NOTED rebellion against Muhammad was in the second year of his reign, and that was by his cousin Baha-ud-din Gurshasp, who held a fief near Gulbarga in northern Karnataka. This was a minor rebellion, and Gurshasp was easily defeated by the imperial forces sent against him. He then fled southward and took refuge with the raja of Kampili, on the banks of the Tungabhadra. As the imperial forces pursued the rebel there, the raja shut himself in the fort of Hosdurg, and when attacked there, the royal women there performed the awesome suicidal rite of jauhar, and the raja himself and several of his officers fought to death against the enemy. Those who survived—some princes and officers—were captured by the Sultanate army and taken to Delhi, where they embraced Islam. Among these converts were two brothers, Harihara and Bukka, who would later revert to Hinduism, return to the peninsula, and found the powerful Hindu kingdom of Vijayanagar.

  Meanwhile, on the fall of Hosdurg, Gurshasp fled to the Hoysala kingdom, but the raja there timidly handed him over to the Sultanate army. Gurshasp was then taken to Daulatabad, where the sultan had arrived, and he was there flayed alive, and his skin, stuffed with straw, was exhibited in the chief cities of the empire as a warning to other potential rebels.