Written by Qara-Tegin | قاراتگین | 哈拉特勤
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Bādshāh Aurangzeb ‘Alamgir ruled almost all of the Indian subcontinent. It is that ‘almost’ which compelled him to clean up the map by asserting his rule over the last islands of sovereignty still independent from the reach of the House of Timur. There, in the Deccan plain, Aurangzeb ‘Alamgir Shahanshah-e Hindustan would spend the final twenty-six years of his life working, planning, conquering, warring, besieging, wandering, and losing his soul.
Despite the long years, the expenditure in blood and gold, the endless battles and grueling sieges, the campaign was by the most superficial of assessments successful. On the eve of Aurangzeb ‘Alamgir’s death, the Mughal Empire would extend further than any other Indian Empire which claimed dominion over the subcontinent, extending perhaps further than the ancient Mauryas under Ashoka the Great. Under his reign and even a bit past his death the Empire would become the world’s largest economy, contributing just slightly under a quarter of the global GDP, if such a thing could be accurately estimated. Closer to home, and more pertinent to the situation on the ground, the Deccan plain was, indeed, subjugated. However, to paint the conquest as anything but Pyrrhic victory would be dishonest. The Siege of Golconda in 1687, emblematic of the campaign as a whole, was an arduous eight-month affair against a nigh-impregnable fortress – additionally plagued by a conspiracy implicating members of the Imperial family. Here, Aurangzeb’s forces even after extensive preparations and a large investment of resources could only bash their heads fruitlessly against the high walls and battlements of Golconda to be torn to pieces by grenades and their own failed strategies, further wracked by hunger until one Sarandaz Khan of Golconda, in emulation of the Jew, relieved their suffering by opening a secret backdoor for the besieging Mughals.
Twenty years of similar fruitlessness passed, as the old Shah’s roving tent city wandered endlessly throughout the Deccan plateau fighting bands of Marathas; conquering forts and cities of weaker Sultans and Rajas. All the while, haunted by plague and a constant dearth of food to support its hundreds of thousands of soldiers and camp followers and their pack animals, elephants, donkeys, and camels alike, the region was stripped of grain and coin to feed the roaming beast. Yet the old Shah would not order his army to return home; he himself would never return to his home in Delhi ever since 1681, choosing to persist in a campaign which in the words of historian Stanley Wolpert, would cost “an estimated hundred thousand lives a year”, in which “the expense in gold and rupees can hardly be imagined or accurately estimated”. Aurangzeb, aged and frail, on his deathbed in 1707 would confess to his son through ragged breath “I came alone and I go as a stranger. I do not know who I am, nor what I have been doing.”
It is a common thing for a man to be so taken by a purpose that they lose themselves. Yes, the men who light a fire so bright their eyes could never turn away, and could never again see anything else should their gaze wander. Aurangzeb was so taken by his dream so luminous and encompassing that the whole world seemed dark before its promise. Yet, by the end, who could say the old Shah found rest? That his dream was to build the strongest empire and to extend the reach of Islam, it would be more than a disappointing blow to the old Shah if he had learned in the afterlife that it is classically understood, at least in the west, that after his tenure, and indeed because of his protracted campaign in the Deccan and his more austere attitude towards the kāfir, the Mughal empire would begin its precipitous decline ending in the humiliation of his distant descendant, Bahadur Shah II, by a band of vengeful Anglos.
There are the many ascetics, the wise and supplicant who see the pain of the world and work to fix it, who journey into the great beyond and into the grove to find an answer to the great questions of man, to furnish life with worthiness. Yet, there are many more who do not emerge, for they fail to see that the journey itself is not the purpose but that the journey brings the purpose! Surely, it would be foolish to make a sacrifice and not hope for the rain! Does the good man not labour for a purpose? Protecting his loved ones, making them feel safe and secure, securing their happiness; in this does he not feel joy? Indeed, Aurangzeb wandered the plain in a tent city that is neither hearth nor wilderness, languishing in the grove never to return home, no joy to be found from his sacrifice. In the wake of that decision, his realm would crumble.
How curious is it then, to find that Aurangzeb would be the only Mughal Emperor to abstain from the Drink. Greater Kings of his dynasty than him, Jalaluddin Mohammad Akbar and Shah Jahangir amongst them, were known to enjoy wine and it is their efforts that built the strong and prosperous Mughal state. Yet Aurangzeb, in a misguidedly inflexible adherence to most strict of sharia, turned from the Drink despite Abu Hanifa’s (the founding scholar of Aurangzeb’s very own school of fiqh, (al-Mukhtaṣar al-Ṭaḥāwī, 1:278)) clear legal opinion! See, how when the Kings stop drinking, the realm should begin its decline. A Muslim driven to view all history and all phenomena as the direct will of God, all natural events as God’s distinct decision would do well to examine this turn of events. Those other Bādshāhān who understood that the joy of labour comes from its fruits, that no journey is worth the sweat and blood should one never again find home. It is on the back of these more understanding kings that Aurangzeb could rush into the Deccan plain with such misguided determination to inadvertently bring desolation to the Takht-i Tāvūs.
Oh calamity, when facing you, though fear does beat my heart, this wine, the joy of life shields me. Libations, bringer of conviviality! The spark of love which drives men forward, to douse the flames when it has roared long enough, a true promise of the light of a lonely crystal lamp in the dark of night (al-Qurʾān, 24:35). It is the gift after a long journey, offered by companions and enjoyed with lovers; a drop of red beauty on tulip-cheeks; the glory of liquid gold smoothed over the palate. In the haze of joy, when one has conducted life well and proved themselves worthy, contentment blends in the amber gold and the sensuous red – the proof of their efforts in the smile of a friend; in the laughter of a newly-met acquaintance, in the coy glance from a lover across a silken room.
Khayyam! rejoice that wine you still can pour,
And still the charms of tulip cheeks adore;
You’ll soon not be, rejoice then that you are,
Think how ‘twould be in case you were no more!
– ‘Umar Khayyām
The only king to reject the fruits of the mango tree he planted, choosing to stand in the fire ‘till his bones burned to pale husk, saw his realm die a slow death as he grew frail and forgetful of his soul. Did he forget why he came to the Deccan plain? In his drive to conquer for conquering’s sake, he rendered his campaign, his reign, his empire, his strength, and his soul worthless. Those who don’t drink, who never leave their asceticism don’t believe themselves worthy, and linger in it to feel worthy. They don’t believe they deserve the reward! How sad! See what destruction this lack of self esteem brings, it is in the manner of the involuntary celibate when dealing in matters of life! Surely, Akbar Sultan and Jahangir saw their works and felt worthy, and Rudaki and Shirazi felt worthy of their pieces. Make no mistake, this is no escape, this is an affirmation! May God have mercy on those who find escape in wine! Yet, was Aurangzeb so consumed by his father’s undying preference for his brother Dara Shikoh that he felt unworthy of one drink? His posthumous name is Khuld-Makani, ’One whose abode is in Paradise’. Should he truly dwell in paradise, I seek no part in it if it too rejects the Drink, for it would be no true paradise.
Heed this lesson, dear reader. Remember the first day you gaze upon that high mountain, and remember the days after that day – for those who scale the high mountains only to stay at its peak are frozen corpses. Bring the libations; feel its heat in your belly. Find your tulip-cheeked lover; feel their joy.
Oh Zealot! Fasting will not solve your woes,
Break your fast with wine, every problem’s solved
– Rūdakī
Cheers! Şerefe! Santé! Be salāmati! 乾杯!
To those who partake!
Sources:
- al-Qurʾān
- al-Mukhtaṣar al-Ṭaḥāwī
- New History of India (7th ed.). Oxford University Press, Stanley Wolpert
- The Wōdnesdæġ Society
- Sharghzadeh
- https://ganjoor.net/khayyam/robaee/sh116
- https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Quatrains_of_Omar_Khayyam_(tr._Whinfield,_1883)/Quatrains_201-300
- METAXA 12 Stars
- Glenlivet 15
