Despite all the irregularities and inefficiencies in revenue administration, sultans and rajas usually had overflowing coffers. ‘In the king’s treasury there are chambers, with excavations in them, filled with molten gold, forming one mass,’ writes Razzak about Vijayanagar. The raja there maintained two treasuries, one to meet the current expenditure of the kingdom, and the other to store savings to meet emergencies. Under Krishnadeva, the ideal was to divide the state revenue into four equal parts: one part for palace expenditure and charity, two parts for the army, and the remaining part for depositing in the reserve treasury.
THE LAWS THAT applied to Hindus and Muslims in a Muslim state were entirely different—while Muslims were subject to Sharia (the prescriptions of the Koran and the traditions of Prophet Muhammad) it was caste rules and local conventions that applied to Hindus. Though Hindus were normally subject only to their own laws, if one of the litigants in a case was a Muslim, the matter had to be taken to a Muslim court, and judged according to Sharia.
The Hindu legal system was incredibly complex, as its laws and legal conventions, as well as its legal institutions and practices, varied from place to place and caste to caste. An act considered as an abominable crime in one caste could be considered as a perfectly legitimate act in another caste, and what was considered as the lawful punishment for a crime in one caste could be considered as entirely unlawful for the same crime in another caste. And, as these rules were enforced by caste courts, political authority had only a marginal role in the process.
Even in the case of the Muslim legal system there was a good amount of variability in the law that was applicable in any given situation. Though Muslim law everywhere in the world was based on Sharia, these were only guidelines, and what law applied in any specific case depended on the interpretations of Sharia by the ulama (religious scholars), and these interpretations varied from country to country, sect to sect, and from scholar to scholar.
The sultan, advised by his chief qazi (judge), was the highest judicial authority in a Muslim state. In the case of capital punishments, the judgements of the lower courts had to be brought before the sultan, and his confirmation was required before the sentence could be executed. Further, the sultan could intervene in the administration of justice at any point, and when he did that, his decision, whether it was in conformity with conventions or not, invariably prevailed.
In Delhi the sultans usually set aside certain days in the week to deal with people’s complaints—Muhammad Tughluq, for instance, heard complaints on Mondays and Thursdays—but they were normally accessible to suppliants on other days too. Iltutmish even set up at the entrance of his palace a great bell that people could ring to draw his attention and seek justice. People could even sue the sultan in a court of law—there are recorded instances of Muhammad Tughluq appearing humbly in a qazi’s court and submitting to its judgement against him. On the other hand, if anyone, however great he might be, incurred the wrath of the sultan, he was often summarily executed without any trial.
As in Muslim kingdoms so also in Hindu kingdoms the highest judicial authority was the king. And in both systems there was a hierarchy of courts beneath the king. In the Hindu system, the lowest courts were the village panchayat courts and the caste courts. Appeals could be made against the judgement of a lower court to a higher court, and ultimately to the king. The rajas, like the sultans, were usually accessible to anyone seeking justice. In Vijayanagar, according to Nuniz, ‘when anyone suffers wrong and wishes to represent his case to the king he shows how great is his suffering by lying flat on his face on the ground till they ask him what it s he wants.’ In the Muslim judicial system there were normally four types of courts: the Diwan-i-mazalim, the court of complaints, presided over by the sultan or his representative; the qazi’s court, which administered the law of Islam; the court of the muhtasib, which dealt with issues of public morals and offenses against religious ordinances; and the shurta, police courts.
Despite all these elaborate legal systems and hierarchy of courts, the treatment of criminals in early medieval India, in Hindu as well as in Muslim states, was usually arbitrary and often horribly barbarous. Suspects were invariably tortured to extract confession from them—and tortured so savagely that they often confessed even to the crimes they had not committed, preferring execution to torture. ‘People consider death a lighter affliction than torture,’ notes Battuta.
The punishment of rebels by the state in medieval India was particularly savage, and involved mutilation, impalement, flaying alive, hacking off limbs, trampling by elephants, being shot through a cannon, and so on. Sometimes an entire group of people was summarily executed, on suspicion of being rebels or thieving tribes. Thus Balban, when he was serving Sultan Nasir-ud-din Mahmud as the Lord Chamberlain, slaughtered the entire lot of hill tribes living in the environs of Delhi, because they were all, according to Siraj, a thirteenth-century chronicler, ‘thieves, robbers, and highwaymen.’ This carnage went on for twenty days, butchering all who were caught. Balban, according to Siraj, offered his soldiers ‘a silver tanka for every [severed] head, and two tankas for every man brought in alive.’ Many of those captured were cast under the feet of elephants. ‘About a hundred met their death at the hands of flayers, being skinned from head to foot; their skins were all then stuffed with straw, and some of them were hung over every gate of the city.’
Battuta, who was in Delhi during the reign of Muhammad Tughluq, has left a vivid description of how elephants were used to execute rebels and criminals. ‘The elephants which execute men have their tusks covered with sharp irons, resembling the coulter of the plough … and with edges like those of knives … When a person is thrown in front [of the elephant], the animal winds its trunk round him, hurls him up into the air, and catching him on one of its tusks, dashes him to the ground … [And then it] places one of its feet on the breast of the victim’ and crushes him to death.
The punishments meted out to traitorous royal relatives and high nobles were particularly fiendish in the Delhi Sultanate, because they posed the greatest threat to the sultan. According to Battuta, Muhammad Tughluq once had a rebellious prince ‘skinned alive … His flesh was then cooked with rice, and some of it was sent to his children and his wife, and the remainder was put in a great dish and given to elephants to eat, but they would not touch it. The sultan ordered his skin to be stuffed with straw, and … exhibited throughout the country.’
THE DREAD OF such savage punishments by kings was the primary means for preserving law and order in early medieval India, as it was in ancient India, for, as the Hindu lawgiver Manu held, ‘the whole world is controlled by punishment, for a guiltless man is hard to find.’ This was acknowledged even by Firuz Tughluq, one of the most humane of the Delhi sultans. ‘In the reigns of former sultans the blood of many Mussulmans had been shed, and many varieties of torture employed,’ writes the sultan in his memoirs. ‘Amputation of hands and feet, ears and noses, tearing out the eyes, pouring molten led into the throat, crushing the bone of the hand and feet with mallets, burning the body with fire, driving iron nails into the hands, feet, and bosom, cutting the sinews, sawing men asunder; these and many similar tortures were practised … All these things were practised so that fear and dread might fall upon the hearts of man, and that the regulations of government might be duly maintained.’
Not only were the punishments savage, but its savagery was ostentatiously put on display to horrify people, and thus to deter them from committing offences. Thus when a top official in Ghazni, who had incurred the displeasure of Sultan Masud, was executed, his body was kept on the gibbet for seven years, so ‘his feet dropped off and his corpse entirely dried up, so that not a remnant of him was left to be taken down and buried,’ records Baihaqi. And in Delhi, according to Battuta, ‘it is the custom with this people that whenever the sultan orders the execution of a person, he is despatched at the door of the hall of audience, and his body left there for three days … It was only rarely that the corpse
of someone who had been executed was not seen at the gate of the palace.’ This was done even to the princes who were suspected of disaffection. Nor were royal ladies spared—thus during the reign of Muhammad Tughluq a princess, who was suspected of debauchery, was stoned in public at the entrance of the durbar hall. The only sultan of Delhi who abolished these barbaric practices was Firuz Tughluq. ‘Through the mercy which god has shown to me these severities and terrors have been exchanged for tenderness, kindness and mercy,’ he writes.
Vijayanagar and Bahmani kings also inflicted barbarous punishments similar to those inflicted by the Delhi sultans. ‘The punishments that they inflict in this kingdom are these: for a thief, whatever theft he commits, however little it be, they forthwith cut off a foot and a hand, and if his theft be a great one he is hanged with a hook under his chin,’ notes Nuniz about the practices in Vijayanagar. ‘If a man outrages a respectable woman or a virgin, he has the same punishment … Nobles who become traitors are sent to be impaled alive on wooden stakes thrust through the belly. And people of the lower orders, for whatever crime they commit, … [the raja] forthwith commands to cut off their heads in the market-place. And the same [is done] for a murder, unless the death was the result of a duel.’ In the Bahmani Sultanate during the reign of Nizam Shah, when a rebel noble was executed, ‘his body was hewn in pieces, which were affixed on different buildings,’ records Ferishta.
THE ROUTINE POLICING of their kingdoms was not an onerous burden for Indian kings, for Indian villages were self-administering, and they generally policed themselves. The main policing task of Indian states was therefore confined to the cities. In this, the scene varied considerably from city to city. According to a rather incredible report of Abdur Razzak, Kozhikode in north Kerala was a haven of peace and security in the mid-fifteenth century. ‘Security and justice are so firmly established in this city,’ he writes, ‘that the most wealthy merchants bring thither from maritime countries considerable cargoes, which they unload, and unhesitatingly send them into the market and bazaars, without thinking in the meantime of any necessity of checking the account, or of keeping watch over the goods.’
The scene in most other Indian cities was entirely different, and they required elaborate law enforcement setups to preserve order in them. The head of the town police in Muslim states was the kotwal, who worked in tandem with the military officers in the town. His main responsibility was to maintain law and order in the city, but he was also responsible for the upkeep of public utilities and for the regulation of markets. He also had diverse social responsibilities, such as the prevention of the circumcision of boys under twelve years age, the prevention of forced sati, the expulsion of religious impostors and charlatans, and so on. At night the towns were patrolled by the police. ‘Throughout the night the town of Bidar is guarded by 1000 men … mounted on horses in full armour, each carrying a light,’ reports Nikitin. The town gates were usually closed at sunset for security reasons, and would not be opened again till morning; those who arrived at the town after its gates were closed had to spend the night outside the town walls, but there were inns there for their accommodation.
Protecting the frontiers of their kingdom was a major concern of Indian rulers, and the Delhi sultans paid special attention to this, particularly in guarding their ever-vulnerable north-west frontier. ‘When we reached this river called Panj-ab, which is the frontier of the territories of the sultan of India and Sind, the officials of the intelligence service came to us and sent a report about us to the governor of the city of Multan,’ reports Battuta about his experiences at the frontier. ‘When the intelligence officials write to the sultan informing him of those who arrive in his country, he studies the report very minutely. The reporters therefore take utmost care in this matter, telling the sultan that a certain man has arrived of such-and-such appearance and dress, and noting the number of his party, salves and servants and beasts, his behaviour both in action and at rest, and all his doings, omitting no detail. When the new arrival reaches the town of Multan, which is the capital of Sind, he stays there until an order is received from the sultan regarding his entry and the degree of hospitality to be extended to him. A man is honoured in that country according to what may be seen of his actions, conduct, and zeal, since no one knows anything about his family or lineage … On the road to Multan … [at a river crossing] the goods and baggage of all who pass are subjected to a rigorous examination. Their custom at the time of our arrival was to take a quarter of everything brought in by merchants, and exact a duty of seven dinars for every horse.’
GATHERING INTELLIGENCE AND maintaining an efficient communication network were matters of high priority for most Indian rulers. Battuta was greatly impressed by the intelligence network of the Delhi Sultanate, by which the sultan was kept regularly and speedily informed about all that was happening in the various parts of his empire. This system was initially set up by Ala-ud-din Khalji, but it fell into disuse after him, till it was restored by Ghiyas-ud-din Tughluq. According to Battuta, the postmaster (chief intelligence officer) of a region ‘is the person who keeps the sultan informed of the affairs in his town and district and all that happens in it and all who come to it.’
‘In India the postal service is of two kinds,’ continues Battuta. ‘The mounted couriers travel on horses belonging to the sultan, with relays at every four miles. The service of couriers on foot is organised in the following manner. At every third of a mile there is an inhabited village, outside which there are three pavilions. In these sit men girded up and ready to move off, each of whom has a rod a yard and a half long with brass bells at the top. When a courier leaves the town he takes the letter in … one hand, and the rod with bells in the other, and runs with all his might. The men in the pavilions, on hearing the sound of bells, prepare to meet him, and when he reaches them one of them takes the letter in his hand and passes on, running with all his might and shaking his rod until he reaches the next station, and so the letter is passed on till it reaches its destination. This post is quicker than the mounted post. It is sometimes used to transport fruits from Khurasan which are highly valued in India; they are put in covered baskets and carried with great speed to the sultan. In the same way they transport notorious criminals; they are each placed on a wooden frame and the couriers run carrying it on their heads. The sultan’s drinking water is brought to him by the same means when he resides at Daulatabad, from the river Kank (Ganga) … which is at a distance of forty days’ journey from there.’
Apart from this government postal system, there seems to have been also a private postal system in medieval India, presumably maintained by prominent trade guilds. The carriers of this system stationed themselves at markets and announced the names of those for whom he was carrying mail, so they could go to him and collect their letters.
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Wars Forever
The Delhi sultans were warlords. And so were most Hindu rajas. For instance, Vijayanagar, as Sastri comments, was ‘a war state … and its political organization was dominated by its military needs.’ Waging wars was the normal mode of life of most early medieval kings, as hunting is for predatory animals. And their hunger for land was generally insatiable. As the medieval Persian poet Saadi puts it:
If a holy man eats half his loaf,
he will give the other half to a beggar.
But if a king conquers all the world,
he will still seek another world to conquer.>
Even if a king did not have any belligerent intentions, he had to be ever prepared for war, for his very survival depended on it, as medieval Indian kingdoms were all invariably bordered by potential aggressors. In that environment, it was inevitably the martial capabilities of a king that primarily defined his worth. This attitude is reflected in the Rajput custom of a newly enthroned king engaging in a battle, or at least in a mock battle, right after his accession, for him to prove his worthiness for the throne.
The incessant sweep of armies all across the subcontinent—i
nvariably accompanied by ravaging, pillaging wild tribes—was fatally disruptive of normal life in India and was ruinous to its economy. Medieval Indian armies were all predatory by nature. Pillaging the enemy or rebel lands was part of their normal operations, and even their advance through their own kingdom was often devastating. Men in fact joined the army not so much for the salary they were given, as for the opportunity it offered for plunder during campaigns. For kings too, plundering the enemy or rebel lands was a normal and legitimate means for filling their treasuries. According to Ni’matullah, during Sikandar Lodi’s campaign against a rebel in Bayana, ‘the whole army was employed in plundering, and all the groves which spread their shade for seven kos around Bayana were torn up from their roots … He butchered most of the people who had fled for refuge to the hills and forests, and the rest he pillaged and put in fetters.’
Waging war on non-Muslims was considered as holy war in Islam, and it had the sanction of religion. But in most cases the claims made by sultans of waging holy wars were mere pretexts to mask their essentially predatory purpose. Their wars, even their wars against Hindu kings, usually had little or nothing to do with religion. In fact, sultans often waged pillaging wars against fellow Muslim kingdoms, just as they waged such wars against Hindu kingdoms. And rajas too often waged pillaging wars against fellow Hindu kingdoms, just as they waged such wars against Muslim kingdoms. In both cases, the invocation of religious spirit by kings at best served to rouse the combative fervour of their soldiers.
The Age of Wrath: A History of the Delhi Sultanate Page 40
