EMPIRE OF THE MOGHuL: RAIDERS FROM THE NORTH By Alex Rutherford, Headline, Rs 495

Of the six great Moghul emperors, the founder has written little about himself compared to the last four. Babar was outstanding. When he was only 12, he succeeded unexpectedly to the throne of the tiny empire of Ferghana. Ever conscious of his Timurid lineage, he set out to pursue his father’s dream of reoccupying the capital of Timur’s empire, Samarkhand, almost immediately after his accession. He succeeded through astonishing feats of bravery, only to hear that a rival has seized the throne of Ferghana just three months after his triumph.

There ensued a period of continuous campaigning, in the process of which he reoccupied and lost Samarkhand and Ferghana twice. In the meantime, he had managed to secure the throne of Kabul at the age of 21. Ten years later, after several failed attempts to occupy Samarkhand, he gave up the dream of returning there and turned his eyes eastward. As the sole remaining descendant of Timur, he was lured by the memory of Timur’s invasion of India. He also wanted to stay away from the ever-menacing Uzbeks.

From 1519 onwards, when he was 36, Babar led five expeditions into India. Initially he had no ambitions to go beyond Punjab, which he claimed to be his Timurid legacy, as the kingdom had been a part of Timur’s empire a century earlier. But opportunities came knocking at his door in the form of resentful elements from the court of Ibrahim Lodi, the Sultan of Delhi. For the last time, Babar crossed the Indus and met his foe’s army on the plains of Panipat. He smashed a force four times bigger than his by the superb strategy of drawing on his cavalry effectively and using cannons and matchlocks, for the first time in India. The Sultan was killed in the battlefield. — the only Muslim ruler of Delhi (Turk, Afghan or Moghul) to ever fall in battle. Delhi was conquered; Babar moved on to Agra, which he made his capital. Ferghana, his mountain kingdom occupied by the Uzbeks, became a distant memory; Samarkhand — a forgotten passion. One more major battle had to be fought, against the formidable Rana Sangha at Khanua, where the tactics he had used at Panipat again proved decisive. Babar, a military genius whose entire training had been in mountain campaigns, overcame two vastly superior armies in combats on the ground. He gave out all the spoils to his relatives, noblemen and every soldier who had fought for him, keeping nothing for himself.

Babar was a remarkable man. He was highly literate in Turki and Persian; his diary, Babarnama, is meticulous in its detailed accounts. Despite temptations, he never tasted wine till he was over 30. But soon after that he became an avid drinker. In 1527, at 44, while he was preparing for his clash with Rana Sangha, Babar decided to win divine favour, and more important, to gain the moral authority to declare the impending war as a jihad, thus unleashing the martial fury in his men who were pining for the mountains in the scorching plains of Hindustan. In high drama, he turned his private vow of renunciation into a sacramental rite. Facing his men, he invoked the blessings of Allah, took the pledge aloud and had his rich stock of wine poured on the ground, smashing the flagons. He also broke his silver and golden goblets and gave away the pieces to dervishes. Thereafter, Babar’s diary is full of laments about the wine he missed, but he never touched it again. His final act is a much repeated tale. At 47, he died praying to Allah to take away a grave illness from Humayun, his beloved son, and pass it on to him. He fell ill almost immediately after the prayer, and died after suffering excruciating pain for three months. On his deathbed, Babar asked Humayun not to do anything against his brothers even though they may deserve it — in sharp contrast to his illustrious descendants. It should also be mentioned that although Babar had the customary number of wives and some concubines, he never really lusted for a woman.

Alex Rutherford has started on a quintet series, of which this is the first book. It is described as a “novel”. Sticking faithfully to known historical facts, he has used his imagination to embellish the story. Rutherford has brought in some 56 characters on the stage, with plausible dialogues and day-to-day events and emotions that do not seem contrived. He has also provided a list of the dramatis personae, without which the reader may have felt lost. The incidents are too detailed and could exhaust the reader at times. Nevertheless, Babar deserved to be known better, and Rutherford has made a praiseworthy contribution.