Abraham Eraly - The Age of Wrath - A History of the Delhi Sultanate

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.