The Lion and the Lily

Title: The Lion and the Lily
Author: Ira Mukhoty
Publisher: Aleph, 2024 (First)
ISBN: 9788119635979
Pages: 456

The greatest contribution of Aurangzeb, the Mughal emperor, to India’s well-being was that he initiated the disintegration of the Mughal empire. Even though it managed to totter on for another 150 years after his death, its vitality was snuffed out and it served only as a punch bag for every adventurer. Close came the invasion and plunder of Nadir Shah and Ahmed Shah Durrani. These incidents devastated Delhi and impoverished the emperor. The regional Mughal governors in Hyderabad, Bengal and Awadh exploited this opportunity to the hilt and set up hereditary dynasties in these provinces. The English East India Company (EIC) was the other contender who utilized the chance to establish territorial power. The eighteenth century saw a series of wars around the globe between the colonial aspirations of Britain and France. The former lost a part of its colonial empire in American independence while France succumbed in all theatres of encounter. This sealed the fate of the French in India. Many French soldiers quickly changed sides and sold their military skill and services to native states who could remunerate them handsomely. The Nawab of Awadh was a patron of these European mercenaries. This book brings to centre stage the lives of the nawabs, begums, eunuchs and other lesser known players, in addition to the perspective provided by the involvement of certain French adventurers and soldiers. The ‘lion’ in the title refers to the Awadhi nawabs and ‘lily’ refers to the French royal banner fleur-de-lys (the lily flower) which was part of the French king’s heraldry. Two of Ira Mukhoty’s earlier books – Akbar: The Greal Mughal (read review here) and Heroines: Powerful Indian Women of Myth and History (read review here) – were reviewed here earlier.

The origins of the Awadhi nawabi is full of deception and treachery, but the author lets it pass without comment. However, she does not extend this courtesy to the Marathas or the British. Saadat Khan, who established the Awadhi line, was a cheat on the personal level and a traitor against the Mughal empire. The Mughals had successfully persuaded the Persian invader Nadir Shah to accept a measly war indemnity and return home. But Saadat Khan informed Shah of the vast treasures of emperor Muhammad Shah Rangeela and where it was hidden. Nadir Shah blew into Delhi like a tempest and killed almost 100,000 people till the city drains literally overflowed with blood of the slain. However, after appropriating the treasure, he humiliated Saadat Khan who immediately committed suicide by taking poison. The first Awadh Nawab was thus instrumental in helping Nadir Shah annihilate the very fabric of Mughal imperial authority. Saadat’s son-in-law Safdar Jung succeeded him on the throne. He paid Nadir two crore rupees to confirm his nawabi of Awadh. The helpless Mughal emperor had no other option than to accede to the invader’s command as a fait accompli. The funny part of the episode was that the name of the new nawab meant ‘Lion in war’! The next nawab, Shuja-ud-Daula, sided with the Afghan invader Ahmed Shah Durrani in his battle at Panipat against the Marathas. Such was the antecedents of the scions of Awadh and the author wants us to sympathise with them over their eventual loss of the kingdom to the British.

The book explains how the EIC consolidated their hold on power in north India by cashing in on the wrong policy decisions of the Mughals and their Awadhi vassals. Mughal emperor Shah Alam II and Shuja-ud-Daula lost the battle of Buxar to the British in 1764 who swiftly took possession of Allahabad and then Lucknow, the capital. Shuja would pay a crippling indemnity to the British to get the regions back. On his part, Shah Alam would sign away the right to collect taxes (diwani) of the provinces of Bengal, Bihar and Odisha to the Company. This was the single incident that spawned British colonial empire in India. England no longer needed to send bullion to India for trade. The most heinous part was that the nawabs sided with Britain when one of their vassals was engaged in a tussle with the British. Benares erupted in revolt against the EIC in 1781 under its governor Raja Chait Singh who was loyal to Asaf-ud-Daula. It was a forerunner of 1857 in the retributive spirit of the local troops. Asaf-ud-Daula, who followed Shuja to the throne, sent troops and money to the British. They crushed the rebellion in two months with this generous help. Even though a few loyal courtiers and the nawab had an extravagant existence with all pleasures life could offer at their disposal, the populace languished in miserable degeneracy. The author lets out some vague hints about these, but a pair of discerning eyes could easily penetrate the subterfuge and false praise heaped on the nawabs. Slavery was rampant in the province, both of the menial and sexual varieties. We read of an English architect named Anthony Polier purchasing an eight-year old girl and sending her as a ‘gift’ to a fellow European. When the girl’s father demurred, he threatened the helpless parent with the title-deed of the transaction (p.92)!

Mukhoty notes down the resurgence of Awadhi art under constant intermingling and rejuvenation from exposure to the finest European art. Jean Baptiste Gentil, who was the French Resident at Shuja’s court, wrote down his memoirs that provide us with a mirror of the high society in Awadh. He set up an art atelier and created the largest collection of art assembled by a single person in the province. British painters, starting from Telly Kettle, introduced European techniques to the local audience. It provided candour and recognisable immediacy. Painters trained in the Mughal tradition of the side profile struggled visibly with the full frontal format, the subjects often ending up with an unfortunate squint. Awadhi artists became deeply interested in light and shadow and the creation of volume and space. Mughal artists would thereafter follow the path of greater realism in their paintings. Culinary habits were refined to the highest level. Food became a matter of contestation between Mughal Delhi and nawabi Awadh. Delhi was famous for its biryani while Lucknow cultivated the pulao with infinitely many variations like gulzar, noor, koku, chameli and the like.

This review does not intend to be judgmental on the character of the nawabi aristocracy, but some points need to be mentioned, especially since the author consistently tries to downplay such unsavoury episodes if the Nawab is at fault. She is entirely hostile in the case of the English or the Maratha. An English traveller noted that Shuja was deceitful, unprincipled, bound by no laws divine or human and a tyrant in power (p.54). Even though this observation is nothing but the plain truth, the author blames the observer as being querulant. The first act of Shuja as Nawab was to abduct a beautiful Hindu Khatri woman. When a huge outcry was made, he returned her after a night in the palace (p.26). Mukhoty could have set this aside without any remark, but she stoops so low as to justify such transgressions as ‘the reaction of a boy who had once been powerless at his father’s harsh rendering of state affairs’. Was she an urdubegi (a matron who administers a harem for the pleasures of a domineering master) in a previous birth? Shuja was a licentious wretch who was fortunate to have an accommodating wife in Bahu Begum who ‘graciously’ accepted Rs. 5000 for each sexual transgression and forgave him (p.65). The author observes that she made a tidy sum of money! She became so rich – of course, by other sources as well – that she lent to the state when the need arose. The Europeans also shared the permissive ethos of the times at first. Many of them in high positions lived with Indian bibis and children from them. However, this baggage was usually shed when they returned home. William Dalrymple’s The White Mughals nicely illustrate this (read review here). Muslim governors often enslaved the children of Hindus whose families resisted his rule, emasculated the boys and then converted to Islam (p.161) like the Ottoman Janissaries. One such person, Jawahar Ali Khan, rose to the position of khwajasara (chief eunuch) of Bahu Begum and held great power in his hands. Quite naturally, such a degenerate society is bound to go downhill further. The book gives subtle hints of the elite slipping to effeminacy. The elite copied the nawab’s style and a type of male attire called the banka evolved which used kajal in the eyes and henna at the fingertips like women used to do (p.222).

Willingly or not, Awadh turned a cash cow for the British and financed all their needs. The nawabs demurred only when the British sought to control wasteful expenditure of the palace. Like a gang of robbers, both were more than willing to share the public money between themselves. It was only the ratio of split that was in contention. Asaf-ud-Daula’s tone gradually turned from one of generous largesse towards the fatherly governor general Hastings to one of wounded incredulity and finally to despair and hopelessness (p.180). Even with all this humiliation, he did not turn against them. Asaf always cozied up to the British even at the cost of self-respect. He sent 60,000 rupees along with a letter of congratulations to King George III on the king’s recovery from an illness. Out of this, half was to be paid to the king’s physician and the other was to be distributed as charity in England (p.225). He also helped the EIC by sending horses and baggage elephants in the company’s war against Tipu in the south. It is strange that the author still praises both these men! Asaf was so obsequious to the British that they viewed him with a sniggering disdain. A Britisher who was paid 1800 pounds a year with no work to do wrote to a friend in England about Asaf that he was brutal and an imbecile (p.318). The British who used Asaf for their purposes without any cover however evaluated the man as an ‘effeminate and debouched buffoon’ (p.218). But Mukhoty wants us to believe that he was ‘intelligent and full of vigour and energy’. British control of the state was total by the end of his reign. After Asaf’s death, his son Wazir Ali was initially chosen as the nawab, but the British immediately deposed him and instated his half-uncle Saadat Ali Khan who was earlier exiled to Benares. This was because he was so unpopular with the people of Lucknow, had no soldiers at his disposal and had no powerful supporters. An immense change came about in the attitude of Englishmen at this time. Earlier, EIC officials accepted the Awadhi world full of delicacy and grace with passionate enthusiasm. This changed to produce a generation of haughty men and women brash with a new confidence about their role and ‘civilizing’ mission. Evangelism also played a part in this transformation, but the author does not take this into account.

The nawabs were ardent Shias who are the followers of Ali, the Prophet’s cousin and fourth Caliph. They ostentatiously displayed Shia imagery and rituals and celebrated their festivals with great pomp. As can be expected, this became synonymous with the elite culture among nobility. Asaf built the grand monument of Bara Imambara in Lucknow to commemorate the martyrdom of Husayn, the Prophet’s grandson. This building cost 30 per cent of the annual revenue of the entire Awadh state. In addition, he spent extravagantly on overseas religious structures too. Enormous sums were expended in Iraqi cities which are holy to the Shias like Najaf and Karbala. He also paid for a canal to be dug to bring water to Najaf which is still known as the Asafiya or Hindiya Canal. Persian was admitted as the language of sophisticated poetry par excellence in the Nawab’s court. Poetry also flourished in mushairas and through courtesans. Persian phrases and idioms were self-consciously inserted into Lucknawi Urdu poetry in a process known as islah-i-zaban (correction of language). However, the society became ever more decadent with each passing year. The author ruefully admits that a great deal of Faizabad/Lucknow’s panache was built on elaborate chicanery and dissimulation.

This book is a good example of the diction that makes history books so appealing. I’m sure you will have to look up many words in the dictionary during reading as I myself had had to do. But let me assure you that the time spent on this effort is not at all wasted if you stop for a moment to ponder over the relevance and aptness of that particular word you just looked up. However, this flourish is not shared by the narrative which seems to be driven by an agenda to denigrate native Indian leaders and their actions. Mahadji Scindia, the Maratha leader who was the strongest power in India at that time, is always referred as a ‘Maratha warlord’ and nothing else. Meanwhile, Tipu Sultan of Mysore who had actually usurped power, is portrayed as a ‘warrior sultan’. This book also contains a short history of Tipu Sultan even though it is not relevant to the main topic. Is this because Mukhoty is genuinely thrilled by the antecedents of this most fiendish bigot in Indian history? Even Nadir Shah, who invaded, plundered and washed Delhi in a bloodbath, is described as ‘imposingly tall with flashing black eyes and a voice like thunder’ (p.15). This usurper is also eulogized as one who ‘staged a coup in Persia to depose the centuries-old Safavid dynasty’. But no such courtesy is ever extended to the Marathas. The author also paints all British narrative as inherently biased and hence unreliable. This is in fact an application of the cancel culture to history and is a flawed methodology. Almost all portrayals of Asaf-ud-Daula project the man as an ‘overweight, simpering fool; ridiculously pious, raunchy womanizer, effete homosexual, profligate wastrel and a miserly ruler’. This synopsis of Asaf which is borne out even by the author’s own narrative is assailed as a wilful character assassination by all the British authors who are separated not only by distance, but by time too. To counter this line of thought, she dips into French journals and diaries and reproduces the expected glorification of Awadhi nawabs and Tipu Sultan. In some instances, the author seems to be genuinely confused with some nicknames that are gained at the hands of a mute but critically appraising section of people. Emperor Muhammad Shah’s appellation of rangeela (colourful) was in fact pejorative, but Mukhoty thinks it is affectionate (p.18). This is really amusing, especially if you know why he was called rangeela, which is mentioned in some books on later Mughals.

This agenda-driven book is no better than a historical fiction. If you enjoy that genre, the book is recommended.

Rating: 2 Star