The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate

by Abraham Eraly

  THE ONLY OTHER major military campaign of Firuz was against Sind, in 1362, the eleventh year of his reign. Remembering all too well the military humiliation that Muhammad had suffered in Sind in his last days, Firuz set out during this campaign with a huge army of 90,000 horse and 480 elephants. But Firuz too suffered great perils in this campaign, for a pestilence decimated his horses—‘only one-fourth of them, at the utmost, remained alive,’ notes Afif—and the soldiers too suffered greatly due to the scarcity of provisions.

  Seeing the adversities of the imperial army, the ruler of Sind marshalled his forces and advanced from the fort of Tatta to give battle. Firuz too then arrayed his army. ‘He then put on his armour, and, with baton in hand, rode through the whole array, encouraging and cheering the men,’ states Afif. ‘This raised the spirits of his people and inflamed their devotion.’ A brief encounter followed, fought in the midst of a dust storm, in which the sultan’s army charged the enemy spiritedly and drove them back into their fort.

  Firuz then decided to retreat to Gujarat, to rest and reequip his army. But the journey to Gujarat turned out to be calamitous. The army was harassed all along the way by the enemy, and it lost its entire fleet of boats. Then famine struck the army. ‘As no corn could be procured, carrion and raw hides were devoured; some men even were driven by extreme hunger to boil old hides, and eat them,’ writes Afif in his detailed account of the army’s travails. ‘A deadly famine reigned, and all men saw death staring them in the face. All the horses were destroyed, and the khans and maliks were compelled to pursue their weary way on foot. Not one steed remained in the army … All ranks were reduced to the same state of destitution.’ To make matters worse, treacherous guides led the army into the Rann of Kutch, where ‘all the land is impregnated with salt … When with great difficulty and exertion they escaped from that salt country, they came into a desert where no bird … flapped its wing, where no tree was to be seen, and where no blade of grass grew.’

  Then suddenly the scene changed. ‘On every side clouds rolled up swiftly, cloud upon cloud; rain fell, and water-courses ran. All men … were delivered from trouble.’

  On reaching Gujarat, the sultan advanced loans to his soldiers to reequip themselves, spending the entire revenue of Gujarat on it. Then he once again set out for Tatta. Fortunately for Firuz, his position relative to that of the Sind ruler was now the reverse of what it was during their previous confrontation. Though there were a good number of desertions in the sultan’s army at this time, as many of his soldiers were reluctant to once again go through the awful toils of a Sind campaign, the army was reinforced by fresh contingents sent from Delhi, and his soldiers were well-rested and well-equipped. In contrast to this, the Sind army was in a wretched state at this time, ravaged by famine and plagued with desertions. In that predicament the ruler of Sind prudently decided to surrender. He then presented himself to Firuz without the turban on his head, and with his sword hanging from his neck, ‘like a repentant criminal, and, humbly approaching the sultan, kissed his stirrup and begged for forgiveness,’ reports Afif. ‘The sultan then graciously placed his hand on his back, and said, ‘Why were you afraid of me? I did not mean to hurt anyone, especially you. Cheer up … and dispel your anxiety.’ Firuz then took the ruler with him to Delhi, but later restored him to the throne of Sind on he agreeing to pay an annual tribute.

  These were the major military campaigns of Firuz. Though he did wage a few other wars also, they were all relatively minor operations. Notable among them was his campaign against Rohilkhand, whose raja had treacherously murdered the governor of Budaun and his two brothers. On Firuz’s approach the raja fled and escaped, so the sultan took his vengeance on the local people. He was uncharacteristically savage on this occasion—perhaps because he was inflamed by religious fervour, as the slain governor and his brothers were Sayyids, presumed descendants of the Prophet Muhammad—and he ordered the general massacre of the Hindus of Rohilkhand. Not only that, he ordered his new governor there, an Afghan, to devastate the region ‘with fire and sword’ annually for the next five years. And Firuz himself visited the region every year for the next five years to ensure that his order was carried out.

  APART FROM THESE few deviant acts, the reign of Firuz was on the whole humane and civilised.

  He was the most liberal of all the rulers of the Delhi Sultanate. But he was also a rigidly orthodox Muslim, who in his autobiography proudly records that he was conferred the title Saiyidu-s Sultan by the Abbasid Caliph in Egypt, who also bestowed on him ‘robes, a banner, a sword, a ring, and a foot-print as badges of honour and distinction.’ All through his life Firuz ‘paid much attention to the elders of religion,’ states Afif. ‘And towards the end of his reign he himself became a shaveling … Many of the khans and amirs, out of love for the sultan, [also] performed tonsure.’ Firuz was particularly careful to consult the Koran for an augury before taking any major decision, for he believed that his fate was not of his own making, but was as god decreed.

  Firuz had a more serious interest in religion than most other Delhi sultans, and he was strict in enforcing Islamic prescriptions among his coreligionists, and in prohibiting their un-Islamic practices. He also made a series of changes in royal customs and practices. ‘It had been the practice of former kings to use vessels of gold and silver at the royal table, and to ornament their sword-belts and quivers with gold and jewels,’ he writes in his autobiography. ‘I forbade these things, and ordered that the fittings of my arms should be made of bone, and I commanded that only such vessels should be used as are recognised by law.’ Thereafter he used only stone and ceramic tableware. Similarly, it was a custom of the Delhi sultans to decorate their private apartments with portrait paintings, but Firuz considered this as ‘contrary to law, and directed that garden scenes should be painted instead,’ states Afif. ‘Former kings used to wear ornaments of brass and copper, silver and gold, in opposition to the Law, but these he (Firuz) interdicted … Pictures on banners and ensigns were also forbidden.’

  It was also a custom of the former sultans to have ‘figures and devices … painted and displayed on saddles, bridles and collars, on censers, on goblets and cups, and flagons, on dishes and ewers, in tents, on curtains and on chairs, and upon all articles and utensils …,’ Firuz notes. ‘I ordered all pictures and portraits to be removed from these things, and that such articles only should be made as are approved and recognised by law. The pictures and portraits which were painted on the doors and walls of palaces I ordered to be effaced.’

  Firuz required his officers too to conform to orthodox Islamic prescriptions. ‘In former times it had been the custom [of nobles] to wear ornamented garments, and men received [such] robes as token of honour from kings … [And] the garments of great men were generally made of silk and gold brocades, beautiful but unlawful,’ states Firuz. ‘I ordered that only such garments should be worn as are approved by the Law of the Prophet … [and that] trimmings of gold brocade, embroidery, or braiding should not exceed four inches in width,’ he states.

  In revenue administration also Firuz followed religious injunctions; whatever taxes religious leaders declared as unlawful, that the sultan forbade, even when it meant substantial loss of revenue to the government. At the same time he strictly enforced the special taxes that Islamic law required to be imposed on non-Muslims.

  One such measure of the sultan was to impose jizya on Brahmins. In an Islamic state all non-Muslims were required to pay jizya, but in India it ‘had never been levied from Brahmins,’ reports Afif. ‘They had been held excused in former reigns … [Firuz however held that] Brahmins were the very keys of the chamber of idolatry, and the infidels were dependent on them. They ought to be therefore taxed first … [When the news of the sultan’s decision spread] Brahmins of all the four cities [of Delhi] assembled and went … [to the sultan] and represented that Brahmins had never before been called upon to pay jizya … [and they threatened] to collect wood and burn themselves under the walls of the palac
e rather than pay the tax.’ But Firuz remained unrelenting. ‘The Brahmins remained fasting for several days at the palace until they were on the point of death. They then clearly perceived that the sultan did not intend to spare them. The Hindus of the city then assembled and told the Brahmins that it was not right for them to kill themselves on account of jizya, and that they would undertake to pay it for them … When Brahmins found that their case was hopeless, they went to the sultan and begged him in his mercy to reduce the amount they would have to pay.’ When Firuz agreed to this, Brahmins dispersed. In a related reform, Firuz made jizya a separate tax, while previously it was included in the land tax.

  THE POLICIES AND actions of Firuz were usually guided by humane and liberal principles, but sometimes, impelled by religious fervour, he violated those principles. Thus when he invaded Orissa, he not only demolished the renowned Jagannatha temple at Puri, but also rooted up its idol and took it with him to Delhi, where, according to Afif, he ‘had it placed in an ignominious position,’ to be defiled by Muslims. Sirat-i-Firuz Shahi, an anonymous medieval work, further states, no doubt with considerable exaggeration, that Firuz slaughtered such a large number of Hindus in Puri that ‘no vestige of the infidels was left except their blood.’ Similar acts of vandalism and carnage were committed by him in a few other places also.

  There is however some uncertainty about what he did at the temple of Jvalamukhi in Kangra. Ferishta states that the sultan ‘broke the idols of Jvalamukhi, mixed their fragments with the flesh of cows, and hung them in nosebags round the necks of Brahmins, and he sent the principal idol as a trophy to Medina.’ But, according Afif, ‘some infidels have reported that Sultan Firuz went specially to see this idol and held a golden umbrella over its head [in veneration] … Other infidels have said that Sultan Muhammad Tughluq [also] had held an umbrella over the same idol.’ Afif denies these claims.

  There is no way of knowing what really happened in Kangra. It is possible that Firuz did not vandalise the Jvalamukhi temple, for he, though a rigidly orthodox Muslim, was also a highly cultured person, and he is known to have taken special care to preserve several ancient Indian monuments. Besides, while Muslim law prohibited the construction of new idol temples, it did not require old temples to be demolished. Though very many old Hindu temples were indeed vandalised and destroyed during the Sultanate period, and Firuz himself did that on a few occasions, it is possible that he treated the Jvalamukhi temple with special regard, especially as the temple was renowned for its vast library, which would have greatly appealed to the scholarly sultan.

  Firuz did however strictly forbid the construction of new Hindu temples and shrines in his empire. ‘I destroyed these edifices, and I killed those leaders of infidelity …, and the lower order I subjected to stripes and chastisement,’ Firuz reports about one such incident. But he was careful not to go beyond what was prescribed in Islamic law. ‘I forbade the infliction of any severe punishments on Hindus in general,’ he states.

  Firuz was particularly severe in dealing with Hindu holy-men. ‘A report was brought to the sultan that there was in Delhi an old Brahmin who persisted in publicly performing the worship of idols in his house, and that the people of the city, both Muslims and Hindus, used to resort to his house to worship the idol,’ reports Afif. ‘This Brahmin had constructed a wooden tablet which was covered within and without with paintings of demons and other objects … The sultan was informed that this Brahmin had perverted Muslim women, and had led them to become infidels. An order was accordingly given that the Brahmin with his tablet should be brought into the presence of the sultan.’ Muslim theologians then advised the sultan that the Brahmin should either become a Muslim or be burned. As the Brahmin refused to become a Muslim, ‘orders were given for raising a pile of faggots before the door of the durbar. The Brahmin was tied hand and foot and cast into it.’

  IN HIS TREATMENT of Hindus, Firuz followed the dual policy of persecuting Hindu religious leaders, and of showing favours to low-caste Hindus to induce them to become Muslims. ‘I encouraged my infidel subjects to embrace the religion of the Prophet, and I proclaimed that everyone who … became a Muslim would be exempt from jizya,’ the sultan writes in his autobiography. ‘Information of this came to the ears of the people at large, and a great number of Hindus presented themselves and were admitted to the honour of Islam. Thus they came forward day by day from every quarter, and … were favoured with presents and honours.’

  Firuz also sought to suppress heterodox Muslim sects. ‘I seized them all and I convicted them of their errors and perversions,’ he writes about Shias. He punished the Shia leaders and castigated their followers, ‘and so by the grace of god the influence of this sect was entirely suppressed.’ He was particularly repressive towards the various bizarre sects that flourished in India at this time, among Hindus as well as Muslims. He was especially severe towards the Tantric sect, which practised ritual sex. ‘I cut off the heads of the elders of this sect, and imprisoned and banished the rest, so that their abominable practises were put an end to,’ states Firuz.

  At this time ‘there was in Delhi a man named Rukn-ud-din, who was called Mahdi, because he affirmed himself to be the Imam Mahdi, who is to appear in latter days, and [he claimed] to possess [divine] knowledge,’ notes Firuz. ‘He led people astray into mystic practices, and perverted ideas.’ Firuz publicised his condemnation of the cult, and ordered the mystic and his cult to be liquidated. People then rushed to his place, ‘tore him to pieces and broke his bones into fragments,’ Firuz reports approvingly. Firuz also suppressed a few other similar cults.

  As in religion, so also in social practices, Firuz sought to enforce orthodox Islamic prescriptions. ‘A custom and practice unauthorised by the law of Islam had sprung up in Muslim cities,’ he writes. ‘On holy days women riding in palanquins or carts or litters, or mounted on horses or mules, or in large parties on foot, went out of the city to the tombs. Rakes and wild fellows of unbridled passion and loose habits took the opportunity which this practice afforded for improper, riotous actions. I commanded that no woman should go out to the tombs under pain of exemplary punishment.’

  FIRUZ, THOUGH HE was rigidly orthodox in religion, was also a man of wide cultural interests, and was quite liberal in his patronage of culture. Thus when he found a library of 1300 old Sanskrit manuscript volumes in the temple of Jvalamukhi, he ordered several of them—particularly a volume on natural sciences, astrology and augury—to be translated into Persian. The translation of this book was noted by Ferishta, and was appreciated even by the hyper-orthodox Mughal chronicler Badauni, though he found that some of the other translated books were ‘unprofitable and trivial works on prosody, music and dancing.’

  An accomplished scholar himself, Firuz was a liberal patron of the learned. And he had to his credit the setting up of several educational institutions. He was passionately fond of music, despite the fact that orthodox Muslims considered addiction to music to be a vice, though only a venial vice. Firuz was also an inventor. ‘Many wonderful things were invented by Sultan Firuz in the course of his reign,’ states Afif, ‘and among them the most wonderful was the tas-i-ghariyal’ for marking time and indicating the hours of prayer. And he wrote his autobiography, as Mughal emperors Babur and Jahangir would later do.

  One of the passions of Firuz was to build new towns and monumental structures. ‘Among the gifts which god bestowed upon me, his humble servant, was a desire to erect public buildings,’ he writes. ‘So I built many mosques and colleges and monasteries … [I also] dug canals, planted trees, and endowed [religious scholars] with lands.’ Confirms Afif: ‘Sultan Firuz excelled all his predecessors on the throne of Delhi in the erection of buildings; indeed no monarch of any country surpassed him [in this]. He built cities, forts, palaces, bunds, mosques, and tombs in great numbers … He also built monasteries, and inns for the accommodation of travellers. One hundred and twenty monasteries were built … The sultan also repaired the tombs of former kings.’


  Firuz, according to Afif, ‘had a remarkable fondness for history.’ This turned him into a zealous conservationist, who took care to preserve the historical and cultural heritage of India. ‘I repaired and rebuilt the edifices and structures of former kings and ancient nobles, which had fallen into decay from the lapse of time, giving the restoration of these buildings priority over my own building works,’ states Firuz.

  This conservationist zeal of the sultan was not confined to the monuments of the Sultanate, but extended to ancient Indian monuments as well. His most valuable contribution in this was the preservation of two Asoka pillars—one from Meerut in UP, and the other from a village near Khizrabad in Punjab—which were transported with great and respectful care from their original sites to Delhi, where they were set up in prominent sites. Firuz of course did not know what the pillars were or who had built them and when—no one knew that till the ancient Brahmi inscriptions on them were deciphered by a British philologist in the mid-nineteenth century. But apparently Firuz had a sense that they were of very ancient—they were in fact over one and a half millenniums old—and were of very great historical value.

  ‘These columns had stood in those places (their original locations) from the days of the Pandavas, but had never attracted the attention of any of the kings who sat upon the throne of Delhi, till Sultan Firuz noticed them, and, with great exertion brought them away,’ notes Afif. ‘When Firuz Shah first beheld these columns, he was filled with admiration, and resolved to remove them with great care as trophies to Delhi.’