Chronicles of a legendary ‘Delhi’

Being the capital of a country is a matter of prestige and honour for a city – though it holds only when the government is stable, and the country is safe and secure. In such circumstances, prosperity prevails, and people enjoy all sorts of luxuries. But once things go awry and the glory of a regime declines, pride gives way to humiliation. The victorious turn on it to become the real masters. Everything that ever made sense becomes irrelevant. This is precisely what happened to the splendid city of Dehli. There was a general slump – socially, materially and in terms of moral values. Dehli was so beautiful, glorious and prosperous that its glory invited adversaries to come and eradicate it:

Do not blame the flower and its picker, O’ goldenthroated nightingale!

You have only to blame the sweetness of your song for your incarceration.

Even a casual glance at the catastrophic occurrences in the city’s history may bring tears to one’s eyes. We do not have much idea about the Hindu period, but we know about the misfortunes that befell the city at different times during the Muslim period. Our great ancestor, Emperor Shah Jahan, declaring Dehli the seat of power of the Mughal Empire, revived its glory. Eminent nobles and princes made it their home, and a galaxy of intellectuals – men of letters and academics – made the capital into something that became the world’s envy. It suffered some decline when Emperor Alamgir [Aurangzeb] turned his focus to his expeditions to the Deccan, but that was only a temporary phase. Once he was gone, another unfortunate period began with the struggle for succession. Dehli, however, remained untouched by this conflict.

Later, Jahandar Shah’s [r. 1712–13] efficiency turned his own family into his enemies. His nephew, Farrukh Siyar [r. 1713–19], succeeded in dethroning and imprisoning him – marking the beginning of the city’s decline with the Syed [Syed brothers] and some other chiefs in the court also getting involved. Farrukh Siyar fell to the wrath of the two brothers, Syed Husain Ali Khan and Syed Abdullah Khan, whom he was planning to disempower. After that, the city, or even the once mighty Mughal Empire, could never regain its lost glory. Rulers like Rafiud Darajat [r. February– June 1719] and Rafiud Daulah [or Shah Jahan II, r. June– September 1719] occupied the throne for brief intervals, and that too only in name. They were not, in fact, kings but mere silhouettes.

The monarchy extinguished the lamps of many houses, but there was a limit to everything. There was such widespread disarray that the conspiring Saiyids, too, suffered from internecine rivalries. A wrong move by them resulted in Roshan Akhtar ascending the throne under the title of Muhammad Shah [r. 1719–48]. The Saiyid brothers had ignored Roshan Akhtar’s wise and visionary mother, Qudsia Begum. Nobody seemed to have taken notice of her presence in the palace, nor was there anyone else fit for dispensing true governance. She, on her part, was well aware of her son’s nature, temperament and capability. This made her wary. The shrewd Saiyid brothers constantly posed problems. Somehow the king, on the advice of sincere and loyal courtiers, managed to post them apart in two far-off places to suppress the threat posed to the crown. This proved to be a relief for other nobles and powerful chiefs. Meanwhile, the scheme succeeded, and the clever brothers were finally eliminated.

Muhammad Shah, by disposition, was of a dissolute and lustful temperament. Often the provincial heads left their deputies at their headquarters and came over to Dehli to participate in their ruler’s endless merrymaking and revelries. A deceptive calm prevailed for some time but not for long as the covetous Nadir Shah, the ruler of Persia and Afghanistan, was keeping an eye out for an opportunity to launch an attack on Dehli and seize the riches of the Indian subcontinent. On the pretext of the murder of his envoy to the Mughal court, he entered the country from Punjab and attacked Dehli. Muhammad Shah responded leisurely, despatching his debauched henchmen and favourite courtiers to halt the enemy’s advances. The outcome was evident and he had only himself to blame for the subsequent carnage that claimed hundreds and thousands of lives. This dealt an irrevocable blow to Dehli, and Nadir Shah returned, having stripped the city of all its wealth and glory. It took a long time for its economy and opulence to recover and for the wounds to heal. After Nadir Shah’s death, his military commander and successor (in Afghanistan), Ahmed Khan Durrani, took his chance invading the Indian subcontinent. However, this time, Prince Ahmed Shah, along with the wise minister Qamruddin led a counter-attack and, after a brief encounter, forced the enemy to take to his heels and retreat. This incidentally was fated to be the last victory of the Mughals, and a tale of repeated defeats and humiliations played out after this.

At this juncture, the provincial chiefs, recognizing an opportunity in the weakness of the centre, took to the path of secession, resulting in a free-for-all. This situation also resulted in the rise of Maratha supremacy and the gradual eclipse of the Mughal Empire. However, 1761 brought about the defeat of the vast Maratha army at the hands of Ahmed Shah Abdali in the Third Battle of Panipat. This defeat resulted in the large-scale killing of the Maratha chiefs and soldiers, but the mischievous Marathas still did not abstain from looting and rampage in Dehli. Even the silver-plated ceiling of Diwan-i-Aam was pulled out, and the heavy string of pearls which the Mughal queens, princesses and begums had hung in Moti Masjid was looted.

In the meantime, Shah Alam II [first r. 1760–88] had returned to claim the throne. But the worst was yet to come. Ghulam Qadir Rohilla, once a favourite of Shah Alam II, rose to power in the palace. He virtually ruled inside the fort, resorting to all sorts of atrocities. In 1789, he gouged out Emperor Shah Alam II’s eyes in a bloody act of vendetta, letting loose a wave of vandalism and looting in the fort. Later, Maratha chief Mahadeoji Scindia avenged the emperor’s dishonour at the hands of the Rohillas and eliminated Ghulam Qadir from the scene. Still, by then, Dehli had already been divested of much of its charm and grandeur.

Emperor Shah Alam wrote of his plight in a poignant Persian poem*, the original of which I could not find; a translation is as follows:

Tragedy and calamity after calamity took away all the charm and grandeur of my empire, leaving it barren and deserted. The glorious sun was eclipsed, caving into the final darkness. I feel lucky to have become blind, for, at least this way, I do not have to see the devastation with my own eyes. All this is reminiscent of the evil army of cursed Yazid at Karbala. In this case, my unfaithful servants let loose all sorts of atrocities on me. My worldly wealth was like an ailment, tormenting me. Now, as I am stripped of it, I have recovered from my illness by the grace of the Almighty, and at the same time, I have been chastised for my sins and faults. I feel the Almighty has forgiven all my sins!

Alas! I crushed snakes but reared their young ones. Indeed, I am responsible for my downfall. Those swearing their loyalty to me finally betrayed me; all my nobles deserted me at the critical moment; all my savings in three decades have gone! Manzoor Ali Khan stood by me, but he was helpless. Both the Mughal and Pathan chiefs and courtiers conspired to finish me. Hamadan’s ambassador and notorious Ghul Muhammad, Allah Yaar Suleman, and Badal Beg all united and aimed at eradicating me. On top of it all, joining hands in this venture, the Afghan youth [Ghulam Qadir] snuffed the light of the empire itself. O All-Wise and All-Seeing, now I am a blind man who cannot see anything except Your Divine Light.

The brave Timur Shah, however, came to my rescue. Of course, Mahadeoji Scindia, like my son, also came over to rescue me. I wish my loyal servant Asafuddaulah and the English officers to join hands, rid me of my predicament, and take revenge for my humiliations. I desire the princes and all the subjects to join hands in making me secure.

Of all the Queens, only Mubarak Mahal remains with me.

But ‘Aftab’, be patient; time does not always stay the same. Now my only hope is God Almighty.

What a poignant and disturbing piece! How revolting! After that, the real power shifted to Mahadeoji Scindia, and his writ ran throughout the palace and the city.

(Excerpted with permission from Mirza Ahmad Akhtar Gorgani’s Sawaneh-i Dehli; published by Roli Books)