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

Buhlul, for all his vaulting ambition, was very cautious in all that he did. Thus he on his accession took care to write to Alam Shah a dissembling, conciliatory letter, stating, according to Sirhindi, that he had acted solely in the interest of the sultan, and that he remained as ever ‘his devoted servant.’ Alam Shah could not possibly have been deceived by that profession, but he did not care. ‘As my father addressed you as his son, I look upon you as my elder brother, and resign kingship to your hands. I shall live in contentment at Budaun.’

HAMID KHAN, UNDER whose initiative Buhlul was crowned sultan, seems to have viewed Afghans as rustic simpletons, and he expected Buhlul to leave the running of the government in his hands. And Buhlul cannily encouraged these expectations initially, by being always deferential towards him. According to Abdullah, a late medieval chronicler, Buhlul once told Hamid Khan: ‘I am a mere soldier and cannot manage even my own fief. You should be the king, and I will be the commander of your troops, and obey any injunctions you may issue.’ Comments Abdullah: ‘So long as Hamid Khan retained any power, Sultan Buhlul thought it expedient to pay him extreme marks of deference, and he went every day to pay his respects to him.’

All that was mere pretence. And the pretence did not last long. Soon, after Buhlul became secure on the throne, he had Hamid thrown into prison, but did that with a characteristic show of courtesy. One day in the court Qutb Khan Lodi, Buhlul’s cousin, respectfully placed a chain before Hamid and told him that for political reasons it was necessary to imprison him, but that his life would be spared out of consideration for the many services that he had rendered to the sultan. Nothing more was heard of Hamid Khan thereafter.

Buhlul’s actions were all characterised by similar deliberation and courtesy. And he was invariably fair in his dealings with his nobles as well as with his subjects, even with his adversaries. And this nobility of his character commanded the respect of all. ‘Sultan Buhlul … evinced courage and generosity. His mercy and benevolence were habitual,’ writes Abdullah in his long paean on Buhlul. ‘He observed the rules of honesty, and had exceeding respect for the law, to the injunctions of which he strictly adhered in all his undertakings. He spent most of his time in the assemblies of the wise and in the society of holy men, and made special inquiries respecting the poor and necessitous. He never turned away any suppliant … He devoted extreme care to the administration of justice, and himself heard the petitions of his subjects …’

‘He was wise, experienced, considerate, kind, friendly … and just,’ continues Abdullah. ‘Whatever came into his possession, in money, goods or new parganas , he distributed it all among his troops, and reserved nothing whatever for himself. He accumulated no treasure, and executed his kingly functions without parade and ostentation … In his social meetings he never sat on a throne, and would not allow his nobles to stand. Even during public audiences he did not occupy the throne, but seated himself upon a carpet … If at any time … [his nobles] were displeased with him, he tried so hard to pacify them that he would himself go to their houses, ungird his sword from his waist, and place it before the offended party; nay, he would sometimes even take off his turban from his head, and solicit forgiveness, saying “If you think me unworthy of the station I occupy, choose someone else, and bestow on me some other office.” He maintained brotherly intercourse with all his chiefs and soldiers. If anyone was ill, he would himself go and attend on him … [But] he was exceedingly bold [in battle] … From the day that he became king, no one achieved a victory over him …’

At the time of the accession of Buhlul ‘the whole of Hind was divided into provinces governed by petty rulers,’ observes Ni’matullah. Under Buhlul there was some revival the fortunes of the Sultanate, and some expansion of its territories. Soon after his accession he was engaged in a long seesaw struggle with the sultan of the powerful kingdom of Jaunpur, whom he finally overthrew and annexed his kingdom, a success that considerably enhanced his power and prestige. He also asserted his authority over the recalcitrant chieftains in the Doab and Mewat, by waging several successful campaigns against them.

The reign of Buhlul lasted nearly 39 years, its very length, truly exceptional in that turbulent age, proving the success of his reign. This success seems even more remarkable when we consider that he had very limited resources, and that the dominant Turkish community in Delhi was scornful of Afghans because of their rugged manners and rustic speech.

BUHLUL DIED IN July 1489, aged eighty. He died, according to Ni’matullah, ‘on account of excessive heat’—presumably by sunstroke — while returning to Delhi after a military campaign. His third son, Sikandar, whom the sultan had designated as his successor, considering him to be the ablest of his sons, then ascended the throne. Buhlul had, while nominating Sikandar for the throne, taken care, with his characteristic caution and prudence, to assign suitable territories and offices to his other sons, close relatives, and prominent amirs, so that the succession of Sikandar would be smooth. Still, some of the nobles objected to Sikandar’s nomination, on the ground that his mother was a Hindu goldsmith’s daughter. Though Sikandar overcame this objection and ascended the throne, his accession was challenged by his elder brother Barbak, to whom Buhlul had assigned the important province of Jaunpur. In the ensuing battle Sikandar easily defeated his brother, but restored him to the throne of Jaunpur, following the conciliatory policy of his father. But Barbak proved to be incompetent to rule even Jaunpur, so Sikandar eventually removed him from his office and kept him in confinement.

Sikandar was only 18 when he ascended the throne, but he was endowed with a maturity and sagacity far above his age. All contemporary chroniclers have only high praise for the sultan, for the lofty qualities of his mind and heart, even for his physical charm. ‘He was,’ states Abdullah, ‘remarkable for his beauty, which was unsurpassed, and … whoever looked on him yielded his heart captive to him.’ According to Ni’matullah, astrologers had, on the birth of Sikandar, predicted that he would adorn ‘the garden of sovereignty with verdure and brightness.’ He would indeed fulfil that prediction.

‘Sultan Sikandar,’ states Abdullah in his effulgent praise of the monarch, ‘was a most illustrious monarch and of a benevolent disposition; he was famous for his liberality, honour and politeness; he had no desire for pomp and ceremonies, and cared not for processions and magnificent dresses. No one who was profligate or of bad character had access to him. He … was exceedingly god-fearing and benevolent … just and courageous … and he was constantly … trying to render his subjects happy. He personally assisted the wretched … Every winter he sent clothes and shawls for the benefit of the needy, and distributed a certain amount of money to them every Friday … He ordained that twice a year he should be furnished with detailed accounts of the meritorious poor in his empire, whom he then supplied with means sufficient to support them for six months, each receiving according to his needs …’ Adds Ni’matullah: ‘He was … endowed with the quality of mildness, and was eminently benevolent, highly dignified and refined … He was a paragon or bravery and justice …’

Abdullah and Ni’matullah, early seventeenth century chroniclers, are our main sources of information on the Lodi dynasty, but the portraits they paint of Buhlul and Sikandar are so radiant that they strain credibility. Their exaggerations are however exaggerations of facts, we should assume; they are not fiction. These chroniclers had no vested interest in falsifying the portraits of the Lodi sultans, for they wrote their chronicles over eight decades after the fall of the Lodi dynasty, and had therefore nothing to gain or lose from what they wrote. The problem with their accounts is their hyperbolic narrative style, not their bias.