Kohinoor over troubled waters

From their study of old texts, authors speculate it originated from South India

KOHINOOR

The Story of the World’s Most Infamous Diamond

William Dalrymple and Anita Anand

Juggernaut

239 pages; Rs 499

Picture this: One owner had his face eaten by maggots, another had her brains bashed in by her handmaidens. One owner was forced to give it up when he was a mere child; another had a black eye from a murderous attack when she finally received it. When it was being transported by sea, a cholera epidemic killed off all but five sailors on board. Wherever it went, the Kohinoor symbolised ultimate power (except when it briefly served as a heedless mullah’s paperweight) — but also incited envy and lust, and left death, violence and destruction in its wake. In Kohinoor: The Story of the World’s Most Infamous Diamond, authors William Dalrymple and Anita Anand follow the fabled diamond through the ages, noting how the story of its provenance mirrors shifts in the balance of power through the ages. 

The origin of the Kohinoor is uncertain. From their study of old texts and hitherto unseen translations, Mr Dalrymple and Ms Anand speculate it originated from South India. They paint a hazy picture of many mythical stones including the Syamantaka — the only adornment that the Sun God wore —which passed into Krishna’s hands but disappeared after his death. Many speculate that the Syamantaka reappeared centuries later as the Kohinoor, but there’s little evidence to support this. Then, at the time when the Mughals were ascending to power, another large, mysterious diamond the size of a small hen’s egg appeared, known simply as Babar’s Diamond. It passed through generations, arguably ending up with Shah Jahan as the Kohinoor. Shah Jahan commissioned the building of the Peacock Throne, with the Kohinoor as its centrepiece. 

Eventually, it was inherited by Mohammad Shah Rangila, the pleasure-loving king who enjoyed poetry, music, cross-dressing and, predictably, gems. The authors paint a gripping picture of a king who was too busy carousing to administer his kingdom or train his army. Consequently, when stories about the huge diamond travelled across mountain and sea, they attracted the attention of the Afghan ruler, Nadir Shah. Rangila’s army was no match for the Afghans, even though it outnumbered them. In one of the bloodiest massacres in Mughal history, Nadir Shah ordered the massacre of 30,000 Delhi’s citizenry. Eventually, Rangila parted with the Kohinoor (and the rest of his treasury) to appease Nadir Shah and put an end to the violence. 

The Kohinoor passed, thus, into Afghan hands. It spent years tucked away for years in a crack of a prison cell before the Sikh ruler, Maharaja Ranjit Singh, took it as spoils of war from Shah Shuja, an Afghan king. By now, the diamond was believed to be cursed, a harbinger of misfortune. Indeed, many accounts show that Ranjit Singh himself could never relax after he won the diamond, always worried that someone would steal it from him. History records him as being one of the last Indians to own and wear the diamond. 

The book has a disturbing account of the death, and the subsequent funeral of Ranjit Singh, in which not only three of his queens, but also several slave girls, committed sati on his pyre. Subsequent owners died unnatural and painful deaths in quick succession. The diamond was eventually inherited by Duleep Singh. Ill luck followed the diamond and the nine-year-old Duleep was separated from his mother Rani Jindan. The boy king was persuaded to hand the diamond to Lord Dalhousie, who sent it to England to be presented to Queen Victoria. 

A parallel thread running through this history is the history of fashion and jewellery. So, when Victoria finally saw the Kohinoor, historical accounts will have us know that she was less than enthralled. Its cut wasn’t to European tastes, and so, before it was displayed to the curious public, it was recut, which made the diamond small but, apparently, more reflective.  

Kohinoor, with all its elements of murder, mystery, sexual intrigue and violence, is a well told narrative, even though it is not always cohesive. Ms Anand does a good job bringing the Sikh phase of the Kohinoor’s history to life, while Mr Dalrymple, ever the evocative storyteller, has woven some gripping stories into his narrative. Consequently, this is the sort of book that will certainly appeal to readers who didn’t enjoy History in school. However, for people who are partial to a more political rendering of history, Kohinoor leaves much to be desired. The fact is that till date, other than the British, there are five other parties staking confident claim to the diamond — India, Pakistan, Iran, Afghanistan and the Taliban. A history of the Kohinoor in today’s context, could have critically furthered the understanding of who has the best claim to the diamond (which has never been legally sold in its history as it has always been seized by force or trickery). Providing no opinions on this, the book, though eminently readable, remains simply a pretty story about a pretty stone.