A magisterial biography of Dara Shukoh opens up new vistas of understanding

Supriya Gandhi's magisterial biography of Dara Shukoh opens up new vistas for understanding the political structure and intellectual ambience that fashioned the Mughal Empire

Indian history is often seen in terms of polarities: non-violence and violence, religious tolerance and bigotry, Dara Shukoh and Aurangzeb. One could sum up such pairings thus: Fine and terrible. Given this schema it is indeed ironic that Aurangzeb has been written about much more than Dara Shukoh. One reason for this is the fact that the former was an emperor and also an easy target to vilify since the time Jadunath Sarkar, his historian, painted him in monochromatic terms as a Muslim bigot whose policies led to the downfall and disintegration of the Mughal Empire. Dara Shukoh, on the other hand, was not a success in political terms. He was a loser in the succession struggle and losers seldom attract attention.

Dara Shukoh’s last scholarly biography, by Kalika Ranjan Qanungo, appeared in 1935 and another, not a biography proper but a study of the prince’s writings by Bikramjit Hasrat, was published in 1953. Supriya Gandhi’s book, steeped in detailed research, fills the gap through a multi-layered narrative that places Dara in his context — a context that is not highlighted adequately in the writings of historians of Mughal India. This is a profoundly valuable book that opens up new vistas for understanding the political structure and intellectual ambience that fashioned the Mughal Empire.

Gandhi’s narrative begins in the reign of Jahangir, the fourth Mughal Emperor and the grandfather of Dara Shukoh, during whose reign he was born in 1615. Through her depiction of Jahangir’s rule, Gandhi paints the nature of Mughal political authority — the structure and etiquette of the court, the intrigues that prevailed in the latter and the problem of dynastic succession. The Mughals had no fixed rule/convention of succession and the latter could always be contested. Jahangir’s own path to the throne had not been smooth since his father, Akbar, “favoured his grandson Khusrau as the heir apparent in direct opposition to… Jahangir who had him all but imprisoned”. Shah Jahan, known as Khurram before he became the Badshah, had been a rebel son to ensure his claims to the throne. When Jahangir died on his way back to Lahore from Kashmir in November 1627, Khurram was away in the Deccan. The latter could become the emperor only through the political surefootedeness of his father-in-law, Asaf Khan, who had been in Jahangir’s entourage.

As he was growing up, Dara Shukoh witnessed these uncertainties and intrigues. In fact, in the aftermath of Khurram’s failed rebellion against Jahangir, Dara and his younger brother Aurangzeb had to be sent to Jahangir as hostages to guarantee Khurram’s obedience. Thus, he knew, though he was the obvious heir apparent to Shah Jahan, his path to the Peacock Throne (which Shah Jahan made for himself) would not necessarily be smooth.

Dara Shukoh’s eyes were not focussed on the throne. He was drawn more towards philosophico-religious ideas of various kinds. He did not lead a military campaign till he was nearly 40 when he was sent by his father to conquer Qandahar. This was highly unusual for a Mughal prince — all of whom won their spurs in battle as young men, often in their teens. Dara’s campaign in Qandahar ended in failure. That Dara would eventually lose the succession struggle through a military encounter was an outcome that was foretold.

Gandhi justifiably describes Dara as someone who tried to fashion himself as a philosopher-king. Her narrative shows that it was the first part of the portmanteau that not only attracted Dara but it was also the one in which he was better trained and more successful. He became a Qadiri Sufi under the training of Miyan Mir and Mulla Shah. His interests were not confined to Sufism and its esoteric practices. He turned to Hindu religious figures and drew on Indic traditions. Gandhi’s book gives a rich and detailed account of the encounters that Dara had with thinkers and practitioners of different religious traditions. He himself was a devout and pious man and spoke of having experienced visions in which he had felt the presence of divinity.

Dara in his religious and philosophical pursuits was continuing a Mughal tradition. His father, grandfather and, more importantly, his great grandfather, had in their own times sought the company and the counsel of Sufis, mystics and Hindu holy men. Commenting on Dara’s aspiration to be a philosopher-king and his continuous engagement with Indic texts and to have some of them translated, Gandhi writes, “It continued a link to previous imperial engagements… Dara’s dream of anointment fits into a broader imperial ideology that presented the emperor as a spiritual and temporal master of the world in decidedly Indic terms. Translation in the Mughal context had often been a way of asserting imperial authority. To translate a text that had been in India far longer than one’s celebrated ancestors was to sprout deeper roots in the subcontinent’s soil. It was also to mould this earth in new ways.” Thus, it is Gandhi’s conviction that “Dara Shukoh was not a misfit in the Mughal court. He tapped ingredients of political authority — asceticism and piety — that sovereigns in the subcontinent had long used.” She warns her readers against seeing Dara Shukoh as a liberal or a promoter of inter-faith harmony in the modern sense of the terms. Dara Shukoh was firmly embedded in Mughal intellectual traditions.

THE EMPEROR WHO NEVER WAS: DARA SHUKOH IN MUGHAL INDIA; Author: Supriya Gandhi; Publisher: Harvard University Press; Pages: 340; Price: Rs 699

There are some other features of this book, not directly related to Dara Shukoh, that need to be highlighted. One is the way Gandhi’s narrative brings out the significant role of some women in decision-making. This is a continuation of a line of analysis opened up first by Ruby Lal, which nuances the conventional view of a male-dominated Mughal court and politics. She brings to light the personality of Jahanara, the elder sister of Dara, who was often the latter’s intellectual comrade. She also exerted her influence on her father and on her other brothers, including Aurangzeb.

The other feature is the extraordinary use Gandhi makes of Mughal miniature paintings to evoke atmosphere and also to use the paintings as a source to complement textual sources. She does this consistently to light up her narrative. It is a pity, though understandable, that the paintings could not be reproduced in colour.

At a time when Mughal rulers (and all Muslim rulers) are prone to being vilified, Gandhi’s book is a powerful antidote to prevailing prejudices. Its contemporary relevance apart, this book is a product of committed and very detailed research. It is also exemplary in the blending of narrative and analysis. Not just the personality and career of Dara Shukoh but the nature of Mughal kingship, the politics of the court, the functioning of the royal household, the intellectual ambience that the emperors fostered and the social and cultural world of 17th-century India — all these and much more are illuminated by Supriya Gandhi’s magisterial and enviable narration.

The reviewer is chancellor and professor of history, Ashoka University