Delhi (14 page)

One night in the spring of the Year of the Ox when we were sixty-two years old we had a strange dream. We saw ourselves in an orchard with trees loaded with fruit. The trees also had many nests and birds were pecking away at the fruit. The gardeners were making a lot of noise to frighten away the birds. We arrived in the orchard armed with a sling and a bag full of pebbles. With our slingshot we drove away the birds and destroyed their nests. The gardeners then prostrated themselves before us and gave thanks to Allah for being thus delivered of the pests.

Whenever the tablet of our mind was heavily over-writ with our designs, we were wont to dream about them. We asked the saintly Shaikh Zainuddin Abu Bakr Tatyabady to tell us what this dream signified. The Shaikh, who was the pole star of religion, confirmed that we were about to undertake an expedition to a distant land which was being despoiled because it had too many rulers; that we would drive away these rulers, as we had driven away the birds in our dream, take possession of their kingdoms and their subjects would kiss our feet. At the time we were in two minds. We were not sure whether we should conquer China–or proceed towards Hindustan. We consulted Syed Mohammed Gesudaraz, the saint with long hair, who we had also adopted as our guide in matters of religion. The Syed was more specific. He interpreted the dream as follows: ‘The Holy Prophet (on Whom and on Whose progeny be peace) has taken you under His care and protection in order that you propagate Islam in the extensive regions of India.’

By then we had already subjugated most of the kingdoms of Asia. Now Hindustan through its disorders had opened its gates to us.

Nothing happens in this world save as Allah wills it. When we were born in the spring of the Year of the Mouse sparks had flown out of our royal mother’s womb and our hands were found to be full of blood. Men of wisdom foretold that the flash of our scimitars would be like sparks of an ironsmith’s anvil and we would wade through rivers of blood. We were taken by our parents to be blessed by Shaikh Shamsuddin. He was reading the sixty-seventh chapter of the Holy Book and intoned ‘Are you sure that He who dwelleth in heaven, will not cause the earth to swallow you up... and behold it shake (
Taimura
)?’ And so we came to be given the name Taimur. Our horoscope had promised that we would be superior to all monarchs of the age, we would protect religion, destroy idols and be the father of our people. At twenty-seven an injury caused a deformity in our foot compelling us thereafter to be more in the saddle than on foot. We knew that behind our backs, common people called us
Taimurlang
(Taimur the lame) but in our presence they addressed us as the Uncompared Lord of Seven Climes and the Lord of Fortunate Conjunction.

We summoned the
kuriltay
of the nobles who had attached their destinies to our apron. We told them of our dream and the interpretations made by wise and saintly men. We told them that our object in undertaking the invasion of Hindustan was to bring infidels to the path of true religion and to purify the country from the filth of polytheism and idolatry. We exhorted them to place helmets of courage on their heads, don the armour of determination, gird on the swords of resolution and like alligators dive into the river of blood: if victorious they would gain renown as warriors who had carried the flag of Islam to the farthest horizons of the earth; if subdued they would gain admittance to paradise as martyrs. We told them of the enormous wealth of Hindustan; of the city the Tughlaks had built of gilded bricks that glistened in the sun and of the cistern in this citadel which was said to be filled with molten gold. We warned them of the rising power of infidels and said that if we did not destroy them by stuffing their mouths with lead they would swallow up everything that the line of sultans starting with Mahmud of Ghazna followed by the Ghors—Mohammed, Qutubuddin Aibak, Altamash and his daughter Sultana Razia—followed by the mighty Ghiasuddin Balban and the house of Khiljis—Jalaluddin, Alauddin— down to the dynasty of the Tughlaks—Ghiasuddin, Mohammed, Firoze and Nasiruddin—had amassed over two centuries.

The minds of Turks are as narrow as their eyes. In order to gain their support and to tie up their tongues, it is necessary not only to excite their zeal for Islam but also their greed for gold. We reminded them that as in the past whatever had fallen into our lap after a victorious campaign we had divided amongst them without keeping anything for ourselves, so would we divide the gold, silver, cattle and slaves that fell into our hands during the expedition to Delhi.

The
kuriltay
was moved by our words. Every man present drew his sword to follow us to victory or paradise.

We decided to send a probing force ahead of us under the command of our grandson, Prince Peer Mohammed Jahangir. The Prince was a youth of only twenty-three summers but he had accompanied us on many campaigns and we had gauged that the star of his destiny was in the ascendant. We summoned him to our tent to apprise him of his duties. ‘He who wishes to embrace the bride of royalty must kiss her across the edge of the sword,’ we told him. ‘We give you the throne of Ghazna. From there you will proceed to Hindustan and capture the city of Multan.’ We then told him of the state of affairs in Delhi. Sultan Firoze Tughlak had spent more of his time raising mosques, caravanserais,
madrasas
and laying canals than in keeping his subjects in fear. Rightly had the Holy Prophet (on Whom be peace) said that a just king is the shadow of God on earth and from the dread of that shadow people render him obedience. But Sultan Firoze had allowed infidels to raise their heads. He had also given sanctuary to many traitors who had fled our wrath and thus behaved in an unbrotherly manner towards us. Firoze had been dead ten years but the seeds of disrespect towards the supreme ruler that he had sown had grown into a thicket of nettles and this displeased us.

His sons and grandsons followed each other in quick succession and now Mahmud sat on the throne of the Tughlaks. However, it was not Mahmud Tughlak who ruled Hindustan but two upstarts: Sarang Khan who had Multan under him and his brother, Mallu Khan Iqbal, who crowed over the ramparts of Tughlakabad and the Qasr-i-hazaar Sutoon. The smoke of vanity had clouded their brains.

Soon Prince Mohammed Jahangir marched from Ghazna, crossed the river Indus and besieged Sarang Khan in Multan.

Now it was the Year of the Tiger. We sent messengers throughout our kingdom to announce that we were ready to march on Delhi. The men who flocked to our standard were as numerous as drops of rain—of these the largest number were our own kin, Chughtai Turks of the Barlas clan, who had shared the perils and profits of many campaigns with us. By the time the almond trees ushered in the spring we had upwards of 90,000 cavaliers and cross-bowmen under our command. We led a small task force into the mountains of Kafiristan and carried out great slaughter amongst the tribes of infidels who had defied even the mighty Alexander of Macedon.

By rapid marches we overtook birds in flight and reached the river Indus. We crossed the mighty river and entered the domains of the Tughlaks. Meanwhile our grandson had occupied Multan. We overcame attempts to impede our progress and crossed the rivers of the Punjab. We stopped at Pak Pattan to pray at the tomb of Fariduddin
Ganj-i-shakar
and promised to convey the blessings of the saint to his successor Shaikh Nizamuddin buried in Delhi.

Our expedition had been carefully timed in consultation with astrologers and men of learning who knew the movements of the sun. When we traversed the Punjab, its plains were still muddy from the recent heavy rains of the summer. By the time we arrived on the banks of the river Jamna it was cool; the skies were as blue as the tiles of our palace roof and the breezes as balmy as those during spring in Samarkand.

We rode along the Jamna then in flood and drew rein in full view of the city which Sultan Firoze Tughlak had built and which was known after him as Firozabad or Kotla Firoze Shah. On the top of his palace Firoze had planted a slender pillar fabricated at the time of the infidel Ashoka who had ruled this country over 1500 years ago. It was said to bear inscriptions of Ashoka’s prophet named Gautama the Wise. The citizens of Firozabad did not put up any resistance; indeed many Mussalmans came to offer us their services.

Our nobles warned us that the thousands of infidels we had taken as slaves in the Punjab might use the opportunity to rise against us when we were engaged in battle against the Tughlaks. Some advised us to slaughter them before we engaged the enemy. We refused to spill so much blood as there was upwards of 1,00,000 slaves in our custody. Instead we picked a few who had tried to escape and had them brought before us. We ordered them to be beheaded in front of the others as a warning of the fate that awaited those who dreamt of breaking the bondage we had imposed on them. Thus we crushed the thorn of rebellion under our foot before it could prick us.

On the 19th of December 1398 Mahmud Tughlak, misguided by his minister Mallu Khan Iqbal, came out of the city with a great clamour of drums and fifes and a vast army to meet us. His generals confronted us with a line of elephants covered with armour and loaded with archers. They were like slow-moving fortresses. We were prepared for them. We had sharp stakes dug in the ground behind the front line of our cavalry. Like the Cossacks we relied on suddenness of assault and retreat. Our horsemen galloped up to their elephants, discharged their arrows and galloped back. This repeated many times took a fearful toll of the Tughlak’s army and drove its commanders to desperation. As their elephants advanced, we retreated. Beasts in the front row got their feet entangled in the stakes; those behind them refused to move forward. We ordered camels (animals which elephants are known to dread) to advance from the sides. We had loads of hay put on their backs and set alight. The remaining elephants turned back in terror exposing the Tughlak’s cavalry and footmen to us. We gave the
Tekbir
. Our Turkish warriors replied with full-throated cry,
Allah-o-Akbar
and sprang like lions on their quarry. The Tughlak army broke ranks and fled. Allah, who presides over battlefields, blessed our swords with victory.

Two days later, on Thursday the 21st of December, we encamped in the ancient
madrasa
along the spacious tank called Hauz-i-Alai. We recited the
fateha
at the tomb of Sultan Firoze Tughlak and after the
zohar
prayer commanded the citizens of Siri, Jahanpanah and Mehrauli to make their submission. They came in their thousands, presented
nazranas
, laid their turbans and caps at our feet and craved our forgiveness A party of
ulema
presented us with copies of the Holy
Quran
and appealed to us as a fellow Mussalman not to shed more Muslim blood. They brought us the keys of their townships and pleaded with us to let them arrange a befitting welcome for us. We acceded to their request and asked them to discuss with our generals details of the indemnity to be paid to us.

The next day being Friday the
khutba
was read in our presence at the Quwwat-ul-Islam mosque. We recited
fatehas
at the tombs of Sultan Altamash and Sultan Alauddin Khilji before inspecting the Qutub Minar and the entrance to the Royal Mosque. We marvelled at their craftsmanship: how these Hindvis began their work as giants and finished them like goldsmiths! We decided to take their master craftsmen with us to work on the mosque at Samarkand. We then proceeded to Mehrauli to pay our homage to Saint Qutubuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki and visited the Auliya Masjid where he had performed many austerities. The citizens made a great display of welcome and arranged swimming contests at the Shamsi Talab beside the mosque. We saw signs of prosperity everywhere.

The ladies of our harem were anxious to see Qasr-i-hazaar Sutoon. We allowed them to be escorted thither while we proceeded to Ghiaspur to fulfil our vow to pray beside the tomb of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya.

It does not take long for the men of Hindustan to switch their minds from fawning flattery to deadly hate. They began to make excuses for their failure to pay the indemnity we had imposed on them. Under the cover of darkness many stole out of Siri, Mehrauli and Jahanpanah with their possessions. Guards we had posted at the city gates were slain. We ordered our troops to enter these towns and extend the hand of rapine, to slay every able-bodied man and take his women and children as slaves. For the next ten days our men drenched their swords in blood. There was no count of the numbers killed: some said 50,000 others 5,00,000. Nor was there any measure of the quantities of precious stones, gold and silver taken by our valiant soldiers. Even the humblest of our footmen took over two dozen slaves. The wealth they acquired in Delhi would last our men many generations. We recalled that once the Holy Prophet (on Whom be peace) had appeared in a dream and told us that the Almighty had declared that seventy-two of our line would sit on the throne of sovereignty. That prophecy seemed to be fulfilling itself. We decided to tarry no more.