TIMUR NEVER TOOK unnecessary risks. ‘I gave orders that the officers and soldiers of my army should put on their armour, and that every man should remain in his proper regiment and place, in perfect readiness,’ he says about the precautions he took while advancing on Delhi. And on his preparations for the battle of Delhi he states: ‘I gave orders for the camp to be carefully guarded all night to prevent a nocturnal surprise by the enemy, and the night was passed with the caution and care which are necessary in war.’ He also took care to rein in the impetuosity of his soldiers, to prevent them from plunging into dangerous situations.
As a good general, Timur took excellent care of his soldiers, and they in turn were fiercely loyal to him. And he treated them all equitably. Sometimes he even redistributed the plunder among them, so that all his men gained evenly from the battle, as victory was the result of their collective effort. ‘As some [soldiers] had obtained much and others little, I had it all fairly divided,’ he states about what he did after a battle. Similarly, after another battle he ‘directed that those who had captured many [cattle] should give a few to those soldiers who had got no share. Through this order, every man, small and great, strong and weak, obtained a share of the spoil.’ If any division of his army got only little booty during a battle, Timur took care to place that division in the next battle in a position where it could collect more booty.
Timur often sought the advice of astrologers in difficult situations, but relied more on his own judgement in making decisions, which were at times against the advice of astrologers. Equally, he depended on divine favour. ‘In all matters, small and great, I placed my reliance on the favour and kindness of god, and I knew that victory and conquest, defeat and flight, are each ordained by him,’ he states. ‘So I placed no reliance on the words of astrologers and stargazers, but besought the giver of victory to favour my arms.’ Rather than heed the predictions of astrologers, Timur sought divine guidance for his actions in the omens he found in the Koran by opening it at random. He considered god to be the giver of victory in battles, and always took care to get off his horse at the end of a battle and prostrate himself on the ground to render his thanks to god for giving him victory.
IN PREPARATION FOR the attack on Delhi, Timur held a council of war, in which he instructed his officers about the tactics to be used in that crucial battle. ‘All my soldiers were brave veterans, and had used their swords manfully under my own eyes. But there were none that had seen so many fights and battles as I had seen, and none of the amirs and braves of the army could compare with me in the amount of fighting I had gone through, and the experience I had gained,’ he writes. ‘I therefore gave them instructions as to the mode of carrying on war, on making and meeting attacks, on arraying their men, on giving support to each other, and on all the precautions to be observed in warring with an enemy … I ordered the amirs … not to be too forward nor too backward, but to act with utmost prudence and caution in their operations.’
At that meeting some of Timur’s officers expressed apprehensions about confronting the war elephants of the Delhi sultan. ‘It had been constantly dinned into the ears of my soldiers that the chief reliance of the armies of Hindustan was on their mighty elephants; that these animals, in complete armour, marched into battle in front of their forces, and that arrows and swords were of no use against them; that in height and bulk they were like small mountains, and their strength was such that at a given signal they could tear up great trees and knock down strongly built walls; that in the battlefield they could take up a horse and its rider with their trunks and hurl them into the air,’ Timur writes.
To allay these anxieties of his soldiers, Timur ordered a deep trench to be dug around the army camp, to prevent elephants from rampaging into the camp. ‘I rode around to inspect it,’ he writes, ‘and I ordered that the trees in the vicinity should be cut down, and brought within the trench, that their branches should be formed into a strong abatis, and that in some places planks should be set up … [Also,] I ordered that all the buffalos which had been taken and placed with the baggage should be brought up; I then had their heads and necks fastened to their legs and placed the animals inside the abatis.’ Further, according to Yazdi, Timur ‘had strong iron claws (caltrops) made and given to the infantry, who were ordered to throw them on the ground in front of the elephants’ to spike their feet as they charged.
Another precaution that Timur took was to execute all the Indian prisoners kept in the army camp. There were 100,000 of them in the camp, and it was feared that they constituted a danger to the army on the eve of its battle with the sultan of Delhi, for it was reported to Timur that when a Delhi contingent made a trial attack on his camp, these prisoners ‘made signs of rejoicing and uttered imprecations’ against Timur. So it was deemed essential, for the safety of the army, that they all should be put to death. Timur therefore ordered ‘that every man who had infidel prisoners was to put them to death, and whoever neglected to do so should himself be executed and his property given to the informer.’
TIMUR’S ADVANCE THROUGH India was swift. It took him less than three months to reach Delhi after crossing the Indus, even though he fought several battles along the way. Strangely, Sultan Mahmud made no move whatever to oppose Timur during these months, presumably hoping that this incursion, like all the previous Mongol incursions, would be just a plundering raid and it involved no threat to his throne. But Timur’s campaign was different from all the previous Mongol campaigns. Even though a major motive of Timur too was to gather plunder, and he had no intention to annex the territory of the Sultanate, he clearly meant to drive Mahmud out of Delhi and occupy the city for a while—for the prestige of it, and for plundering the royal treasures. This was an invasion by a king, not a raid by a pillaging horde. Moreover, there was a strong element of religious fanaticism in Timur, which was not there in the early raids of Mongols, for they were then heathens, not yet converted to Islam.
The realisation that Timur meant to occupy Delhi at last bestirred Mahmud, and he and his chief officer Mallu Khan then marched out of the city to confront Timur. His army, indicative of the withered state of the Sultanate, was small, consisting of just 10,000 cavalry and 125 elephants, though he also had with him an infantry rabble of 40,000.
‘The enemy’s forces now made their appearance, and for better reconnoitring their order I rode to the top of a little hill which was hard by,’ writes Timur. ‘There I carefully scrutinised their array, and I said to myself that with the favour of god I would defeat them and gain victory. I then alighted from my horse … and performed my devotions … bowed my head to the ground and besought the Almighty for victory.’ Returning to his camp Timur then gave final instructions to his commanders, and took his position at the centre of the array.
This was on 17 December 1398. ‘The two armies now confronted each other, the drums were beaten on both sides, and shouts and cries were raised,’ reports Timur in his detailed description of the encounter. ‘The solders of Sultan Mahmud and Mallu Khan showed no lack of courage, but bore themselves manfully in the fight, till they could not withstand the successive assaults of my soldiers … [At last] their courage crumbled, and they took to flight.’
Mahmud then pulled back to Delhi. But that very night, with the enemy clamouring at the city gates, Mahmud sought safety in flight—‘in the middle of that night … [he] fled towards the mountains and jungles,’ records Timur, rather fancifully. More factually, Sirhindi states that ‘when night came on, Mallu Khan and Sultan Mahmud, leaving their wives and children behind came out of the city—the sultan then fled southward to Gujarat, and Mallu Khan northward to Uttar Pradesh.
Timur then triumphantly entered Delhi, took his seat on the imperial throne, and held a court there. The leading men of the city then paid their homage to Timur. ‘I had them introduced [to me] one by one, and they made their obeisances, and were admitted to the honour of kissing my throne,’ writes Timur. ‘I received every one of them with respect and kindness, and
directed them to be seated … [At this time] all the Sayyids, ulama, sheikhs, and other leading Muslims arose, and … begged that quarter might be given to the people of Delhi, and that their lives might be spared. Out of respect to the Sayyids and ulama … I granted quarter to the inhabitants of the city. I then ordered my ensign and royal standard to be raised, and the drums to be beaten and music played on the tops of the gates of Delhi. Rejoicings for the victory followed.’ On Friday the khutba was delivered in Timur’s name in all the mosques of Delhi.
TIMUR HAD GRANTED security to the people of Delhi, but his soldiers, fired by raging rapacity, nevertheless went berserk in the city, slaughtering and plundering. It was primarily for this that they had come to India. And Timur was unable, or unwilling, to restrain them. Their rampage was however resisted by the Hindus in the city; they ‘set fire to their houses with their own hands, burned their wives and children in them, and rushed into the fight and were killed,’ records Timur. This resistance further inflamed the raiders. ‘On that day, Thursday, and all the [following] night … nearly 15,000 … [soldiers] were engaged in slaying, plundering, and destroying. When morning broke on Friday, all my army, no longer under control, went off to the city and thought of nothing but killing, plundering, and taking prisoners.’ An incredible amount of booty, far beyond all imagination, was obtained by the raiders—‘rubies, diamonds, garnets, pearls, and other gems; jewels of gold and silver; … [gold and silver coins]; vessels of gold and silver; and brocades and silks of great value. Gold and silver ornaments of the Hindu women were obtained in such quantities as to exceed all account.’ A large number of prisoners were also seized by the raiders.
‘Although I was desirous of sparing them (the people of Delhi), I could not succeed, for it was the will of god that this calamity should fall upon the city …,’ states Timur. ‘By the will of god, and by no wish or direction of mine, all the three cities of Delhi—Siri, Jahan-panah and Old Delhi—had been plundered.’ Mughal chronicler Nizam-ud-din Ahmad in Tabaqat-i-Akbari records a somewhat different version of what happened. ‘Timur,’ he writes, ‘granted quarter to the people of the city, and appointed a number of persons to collect the ransom money. Some of the citizens, incensed by the harshness of the collectors, resisted and killed several of them. This daring incited the anger of Timur, and he gave orders to kill or make prisoners the people of the city. On that day many were captured or slain, but at length Timur was moved to pity and issued an edict of mercy.’
When at last the situation in Delhi quietened down, Timur took a ride around the three cities of Delhi. ‘Siri is a round city; its buildings are lofty, and are surrounded by fortifications built of stone and brick, and they are very strong,’ he noted. ‘Old Delhi also has a similar fort, but it is larger than Siri … Jahan-panah is situated in the midst of the inhabited city. The fortifications of the three cities have thirty gates.’
Timur was so greatly impressed by the magnificence of Delhi, and by the skill of its builders and artisans, that he took many of the men with him to Central Asia. ‘I ordered that all the artisans and clever mechanics, who were masters of their respective crafts, should be picked out from among the prisoners and set aside, and accordingly some thousands of craftsmen were selected to await my command,’ he reports. ‘All these I distributed among the princes and amirs who were present, or who were engaged officially in other parts of my dominions.’ But Timur kept for himself most of the architects and masons, for he was eager to develop Samarkand—‘my capital, my paradise’—into a great centre of art and architecture. ‘I had decided to build a Jami Masjid in Samarkand, the seat of my empire, which should be without a rival in any country,’ he writes. ‘So I ordered that all builders and stonemasons should be set apart for my own service.’
Mahmud had left 120 elephants in Delhi when he fled from the city, and Timur had them paraded before him. ‘As the elephants passed by me I was greatly amused to see the tricks which their drivers had taught them. Every elephant, at the sign of its driver, bowed its head to the ground, and made its obeisance, and uttered a cry … When I saw these mighty animals, so well-trained and so obedient to weak man, I was greatly astonished.’ He then ordered some of the elephants to be sent to his provinces in Central Asia ‘so that the princes and nobles throughout my dominions might see these animals.’
TIMUR WAS FASCINATED with Delhi, and he greatly enjoyed his stay there. Yet he was anxious to move on. ‘I had been in Delhi fifteen days, which time I had passed in pleasure and enjoyment, holding royal courts and giving great feasts,’ he writes. ‘I then reflected that I had come to Hindustan to wage war against infidels … I had triumphed over my adversaries, I had put to death some lakhs of infidels and idolaters … Now that this crowning victory had been won, I felt that I ought not indulge in ease, but rather [continue] to exert myself in warring against the infidels of Hindustan.’
So he set out again on his campaign. On 1 January 1399 he crossed the Yamuna and advanced north-westward, fighting battles all along the way, often without rest, disregarding fatigue. Once when Timur was told that at a nearby place ‘a large number of infidels … had collected with their wives and children, and with property, goods and cattle beyond estimate,’ he was initially reluctant to march against them, as ‘the road thither was arduous, through jungles and thickets … My first thought was that I had been awake since midnight, I had travelled a long distance without halt, and had surmounted many difficulties, I had won two splendid victories with a few brave soldiers, and I was very tired, so I should stop and take rest. But then I remembered that I had drawn my sword, and had come to Hind with the resolution of waging a holy war against its infidels, and so long as it was possible to fight with them, rest was unlawful for me.’
Timur therefore promptly advanced northward into the Shiwalik Range (where the local people had taken refuge) slaughtering people and pillaging the land all along the way. ‘So many of them were killed that their blood ran down the mountains and the plain,’ Timur writes. In mid-January he captured Kangra, then swerved westward and, fighting as many as twenty pitched battles in thirty days, reached Jammu and sacked the city.
That was Timur’s last major military engagement in India. He then crossed the Chenab, and on 6 March 1399 held a court there to bid farewell to his princes and nobles, and to send them off to their respective provinces. He himself then set out homeward. ‘When I was satisfied with the destruction I had dealt out to the infidels, and the land was cleansed from the pollution of their existence, I turned back, victorious and triumphant, laden with spoil.’
On 19 March 1399 Timur crossed the Indus and left India. But there would be no rest ever for this warrior sultan, for he soon got embroiled in a series of wars in the Middle East and Central Asia. His last campaign plan was to conquer China, but when he was engaged in the preparation for it, he fell critically ill, and died soon after, in February 1405.
Timur was in India for about six months only, but those were the most devastating six months in the entire history of India, as regards the number of the towns and villages sacked, and of the people butchered. Every town and village that his army passed through was littered with the putrefying copses. Typical of Timur was the order he once gave to one of his generals: ‘March up the Yamuna, and take every fort and town and village you come to, and put all the infidels of the country to the sword.’ Timur’s army was like a vast pack of howling, predatory animals rampaging through the land. Its blood-lust was appalling.
Yet, for all his savagery, Timur, like Mahmud Ghazni, was a man of culture. A writer himself, he loved the company of the learned and was an ardent patron of creative people. His autobiography, written in Chagatai Turkic language, is quite an engaging work, in which he describes his campaigns with cool candour. Timur had a good sense of his place in history, and he wrote his autobiography to preserve the record of his achievements. In some places he also had the account of his campaigns engraved on rock. ‘I ordered an engraver on stone, who was in my camp,
to cut an inscription somewhere on those defiles to the effect that I had reached this country by such and such a route, in the auspicious month of Ramadan A. H. 800,’ he states.
Oddly, there was also a touching element of tenderness in the character of this most ruthless, sanguinary monarch—unbelievable though it might seem, of all the vast and opulent booty and gifts that he collected in India, what he most cherished were two white parrots presented to him by a chieftain near Delhi. These birds ‘could talk well and pleasantly,’ writes Timur. ‘The sight of these parrots and the sound of their voices gave me great satisfaction, so I gave directions that they should be brought before me in their cages every day so that I might listen to their talk … They brought [to me several] rare presents from Hindustan, but I looked upon the two parrots as the best of their gifts.’
Timur was also human enough to cry sometimes, though what he shed were tears of joy. ‘When I recounted the favours and mercies I had received from the Almighty—my excellent sons, the brave and renowned amirs who served under me, and the great and glorious victories I had won—my heart melted, and tears burst from my eyes,’ he writes.
TIMUR HAD LAID waste a broad swath of land in North India, and he left Delhi in utter ruin and virtually depopulated. ‘After the departure of Timur, the neighbourhood of Delhi, and all those territories over which his armies had passed, were visited with pestilence and famine,’ observes Sirhindi. ‘Many died of sickness, and many perished of hunger, and for two months Delhi was desolate.’
And this material and human devastation was followed by political chaos. The Sultanate was now in shambles, and the authority of the sultan was virtually confined to the city of Delhi and its environs. And the tussle for the throne between the descendants of Firuz, which had raged before Timur’s invasion, now resumed. Soon after the departure of Timur from Delhi, the city was occupied by Nusrat Shah, a grandson of Firuz. But he was almost immediately driven out of the city by Mallu Khan, who then invited Mahmud to return to Delhi and reoccupy the throne. Mahmud, who had fled to Gujarat from Delhi on being routed by Timur, and had finally taken refuge in Malwa, then returned to Delhi. But he was miserable there, for Mallu Khan was the de facto ruler, and Mahmud a mere figurehead. So, chafing under the haughty dominance of Mallu Khan, Mahmud once again fled from the city, this time to Kanauj, where he lived as a virtual refugee, with just a few attendants.
The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate Page 27
