Tag Archives: Aurangazeb

The Hindu Lit Fest 2024 | Author Charu Nivedita and translator Nandini Krishnan on their new book ‘Conversations with Aurangzeb’

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Books (incl.Biographies - w.e.f.01 jan 2018 ), Royal Families, PreIndependence -Descendants (wef. Jan 02nd,2022), ,

INDIA:

‘Conversations with Aurangzeb’ reimagines the story of the most controversial Mughal emperor

A 17th century painting of Aurangzeb in his ‘darbar’. | Photo Credit: Wiki Commons

Tamil writer Charu Nivedita’s Conversations with Aurangzeb, translated by Nandini Krishnan,is an unpredictable book. In it, a writer begins a novel with an idea but soon meets the spirit of Mughal emperor Aurangzeb, who decides to seize the opportunity to tell his side of the story. This is an irreverent, indignant Aurangzeb, most unlike the historical character we are familiar with.The writer and Aurangzeb speak of the past and present, of Mughals and Marxism, of satire and Sunny Leone, and a host of other contemporary subjects. Krishnan says the novel is “defiant of all genres”.

discuss the wildly imaginative book, their collaborative process, and the latest translation fad. Edited excerpts:

Author Charu Nivedita | Photo Credit: Backiaraj M.

You’ve given an unpopular historical figure a voice to defend his actions. In a country where satire is often lost on a lot of people, did you ever feel this book was a risky proposition?

Charu Nivedita: All my writing is risky because I always choose taboo topics. I have always been a misunderstood guy. In a historical perspective, Aurangzeb is also a misunderstood guy. So, I find some similarity between Aurangzeb and myself as a writer.

There are Tamil references throughout the novel. Why and how did you decide to weave these in?

CN: Even though I live in Tamil Nadu, I don’t agree with the culture here. My fellow writers don’t consider me a writer; I always feel like an outsider. Though I write in Tamil, I imagine a European, South American or an Arab readership. I mock the land in which I live. I feel sometimes that I live in a circus when I see the film industry, the paal abhishekam (a ritual of worship with milk)for the cut-outs of actors, or the happenings in the political arena. Self-mocking is important. One who is ready to parody himself or herself can do that with others.

Translator Nandini Krishnan | Photo Credit: Vinay Aravind

You have said in your translator’s note that some books are untranslatable. Why is that?

NK: I mean there are certain books that are extremely localised. For example, anyone in India who has watched Hindi films would find the line ‘Kitne aadmi the? (How many men were there?)’ funny in any context. But if you’re going to use that line with an American audience or with someone who doesn’t watch Hindi films, it would make no sense at all.

The history of Tamil cinema is as old as modern Tamil writing. There are constant references and cross-references to it in literature. Even in (Nivedita’s) Zero Degree, there is a reference to a scene from the film Chinna Gounder. Unless you get its context, it is not jarring or funny or discomfiting in any way. That’s why I felt Zero Degree was untranslatable.

There is a larger reach now of Tamil books for an English reading audience. What do you think of this translation boom?

NK: Right now, translations are sexy because Geetanjali Shree won the International Booker Prize in 2022. In the 90s, because of Vikram Seth’s enormous advance and later because of Arundhati Roy’s Booker win, Indian writing in English became sexy. This is just a fad. This has also given space to some very subpar translations because everyone is trying to get 20 books translated. We need to maintain the quality of someone like a Charu Nivedita or Ashokamitran or Perumal Murugan or Thamizhachi Thangapandian. Translations do have reach, but does the same quality of work reach an audience? I don’t know.

Also, there is a lot of focus on the writer’s story rather than the story that the writer is telling. And by that, I mean the writer’s gender, caste, their politics, and so on. Unless we go beyond these to the quality of their stories, we are in trouble.

CN: There is a translation boom. But unless there is a miracle, as in the case of Perumal Murugan or Vivek Shanbhag, one is unknown outside their own region. I am unknown outside Tamil Nadu or Kerala. There is no controversy or award because of which people might know me. This is the sad state of affairs.

radhika.s@thehindu.co.in

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Litfest> Interview / by Radhika Santhanam / January 18th, 2024

Little-known fact: Aurangzeb had more Rajput administrators than Akbar

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DELHI , INDIA :

In ‘Understanding Mughal India’, Meena Bhargava writes about how Aurangzeb patronised several Hindu institutions & was supported in the war of succession by Rajputs.

A portrait of Mughal ruler Aurangzeb | Photo: collections.vam.ac.uk/
A portrait of Mughal ruler Aurangzeb | Photo: collections.vam.ac.uk/

That Aurangzeb’s orthodoxy and his dedication to his beliefs was personal rather than a matter for political interference is evident in his reactions and responses during the war of succession of 1658, a quadrangular conflict between Dara, Shuja, Aurangzeb, and Murad. Throughout the struggle, Aurangzeb was concerned about Dara’s political manoeuvres. Their individual feelings and religious outlook—which stood in sharp contrast—remained confined to the personal level. Aurangzeb referred to Dara as mushrik (heretic) while Dara called Aurangzeb kotah pyjama (narrow pants), a symbolic attribute of orthodoxy. Both attempted to rally public opinion, but never on religious grounds. In fact, the support that largely came for Aurangzeb was from the Rajputs, notably Rana Raj Singh of Mewar, Raja Jai Singh Kachwaha of Amber, and later, Maharaja Jaswant Singh of Marwar. In this context may be related an interesting nishan that Aurangzeb sent to Rana Raj Singh of Mewar, condemning such kings who practised intolerance that could become the cause of dispute, conflict, and harm to the people, and could ‘devastate the prosperous creations of God and destroy the foundations of the God-created fabric’. Such attitudes of kings, Aurangzeb ordained, deserve ‘to be rejected and cast off’. This document from the Udaipur records is a clear revelation of what Aurangzeb intended as his public policy. It further confirmed that Aurangzeb, in the struggle for succession, did not raise the cry of jihad or Islam in danger, nor did he promulgate a new religious policy contrary to that of his predecessors; neither did Dara claim to be the champion of liberal forces. The issue was not religious or ideological, or whether orthodoxy would triumph or liberalism. It was a question of personal vested interest, political in nature but free from religious connotations, that is: Who would be the emperor of India, Dara or Aurangzeb? It is in such a context that Aurangzeb deserves to be assessed.

Debating Aurangzeb’s leanings—religious orthodoxy or political pragmatism—one needs to ask: Did Aurangzeb really intend, as Jadunath Sarkar suggested, the establishment of dar-ul-Islam or a truly Islamic State in India, the conversion of the entire population to Islam, and the annihilation of dissenters? Or, as Ishtiyaq Husain Qureshi argued, was it rigid adherence to the shari’a and undoing the damage caused by Akbar; or the triumph of Muslim theology, as Shri Ram Sharma asserted? If this was really the case, then the emperor’s personal valour, military skills, and single-minded commitment to achieving territorial expansion and consolidation would stand negated. The biased ideological portrayal of the emperor, regardless of historical accuracy, makes it difficult to explain the increase in the number of Rajput mansabdars in Aurangzeb’s administration as compared to Akbar’s period, and their rise from 24 per cent under Shahjahan to 33 per cent in 1689. Nor can Raghunath Ray Kayastha’s dominance as diwan-i kul be understood rationally. Raghunath Ray not only supported Aurangzeb but also participated in several expeditions of the period. Aurangzeb honoured him with the title of Raja and when Raghunath Ray died in 1664, the emperor, in his obituary written in Ruqa’at-i Alamgiri, remembered him as the greatest administrator he had ever known.

There are well-documented evidences of Aurangzeb’s patronage of various Hindu religious institutions, namely temples, maths, grants to Brahmins and pujaris:

  • Land grants were renewed to the temples at Mathura, Banaras, Gaya, Gauhati, and others, while the emperor is known to have donated ghee for the navadeep in a few temples, including the Mahabateshwar temple at Agra;
  • Gifts were offered to the Sikh gurudwara at Dehradun;
  • Madad-i ma’ash grants, as listed in the Rajasthan documents, were continued to a math of Nathpanthi yogis in pargana Didwana, sarkar Nagor;
  • Grants were also made to Ganesh Bharti faqir and his successors in pargana Siwana with the instructions that the faqir should not be disturbed so he could ‘pray for this sultanat’.
  • The Vrindavan document of 1704 referred to a parwana which sanctioned the rights of Chaitanya gosains who had founded Vrindavan and established pilgrimages in Braj Bhumi, and recognised the right of Brajanand Gosain to receive a fee from the followers of the sect on account of kharj sadir o warid, that is, expenses on guests and travellers from each village. In effect, it was a government levy for the benefit of Brajanand Gosain and his Vaishnavite followers.

From the above description, Aurangzeb’s patronage to temples appears without doubt. And yet some temples were attacked, while others were spared. This aberration in the emperor’s attitude can be explained by only one rationale: it was not iconoclasm, but reprisal for rebellion or political misconduct or disloyalty to the emperor. This exposition can be applied to understand the attack on the Vishwanath temple at Kashi, the Keshav Dev temple at Mathura, and several prominent temples in Rajasthan. In 1669, during a zamindar revolt in Banaras, it was suspected that some of them had assisted Shivaji in his escape from imperial detention. It was also believed that Shivaji’s escape was initially facilitated by Jai Singh, the great-grandson of Raja Man Singh, who had built the Vishwanath temple. It was against this background that Aurangzeb ordered the destruction of that temple in September 1669.

Around the same time, in a Jat rebellion that had erupted in the neighbouring regions of Mathura, a patron of the local congregational mosque was killed, leading to Aurangzeb’s order in 1670 to attack the Keshav Dev temple at Mathura. Temples in Marwar and Mewar were also attacked following the death of Maharaja Jaswant Singh to reprimand and crush the Rathor rebellion and the development of a Sisodia– Rathor alliance. These included temples in Khandela patronised by rebel chieftains; temples in Jodhpur maintained by a former supporter of Dara Shukoh; and the royal temples in Udaipur and Chittor patronised by Rana Raj Singh after the Rana entered into an alliance with the Rathors that signalled the withdrawal of loyalty to the Mughal State. It may be observed that the Rathor rebellion was not a reaction or a protest against the re-imposition of jizya. Instead, this re-imposition, as Abu’l Fazl Ma’muri observed in the context of the suppression of the Satnami revolt and prior to the emperor’s expedition to Ajmer, was meant for ‘the affliction of the rebellious unbelievers’.

MughalBookMPOs24feb2020

This excerpt from Understanding Mughal India: Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries by Meena Bhargava has been published with permission from Orient BlackSwan.

source: http://www.theprint.in / The Print / Home>  Page Turner> Book Excerpts / by Meena Bhargava / February 19th, 2020

Maratha blood and Persian veins

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KARNATAKA :

A detail of the ‘House of Bijapur’ genealogical painting depicting most of the rulers of the Adil Shahi dynasty of Bijapur. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)
A detail of the ‘House of Bijapur’ genealogical painting depicting most of the rulers of the Adil Shahi dynasty of Bijapur. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)

  • Although the Adil Shahi dynasty of Bijapur was formally Muslim, it was influenced by multiple religions and different identities
  • Such complicated realities were not unusual in the subcontinent, from Vijayanagar in the south to further north in Kashmir

In 1680, a few years before emperor Aurangzeb swallowed up the sultanate of Bijapur, two court artists in that city produced a striking genealogical painting. Rich in quality, with ink, watercolours, as well as gold and silver generously employed, the picture shows all the rulers of the doomed Adil Shahi dynasty, save for one who was blinded and discarded for not being up to the mark.

In the centre, on the throne, for instance, sits Yusuf, the man who sailed from Persia and founded the house with his Maratha wife in the 15th century: In a mark of the kingdom’s allegiance to the Shah of Iran (as opposed to the Mughals), Yusuf is shown receiving a key of sovereignty from the Iranian emperor. Then there is Ali, who appears in armour—a symbol of the role he played in the defeat of Vijayanagar in 1565—just as there is the boy-king Sikander, the smallest figure in the group, who would spend much of his life as Aurangzeb’s dethroned prisoner.

Created on the eve of the kingdom’s demise, the painting is at once a family tree but also, as one scholar puts it, a “painted curtain call” for the extraordinary Adil Shahi dynasty.

But the portrait is significant also in another way, in that it depicts the contrasts that can develop in the same ruling house and in interpretations of its official ideology. The Adil Shahi state was formally Muslim. From the start, however, it was influenced not only by multiple religions but also by different identities. So, for instance, Ismail (reign 1510-34) chose to highlight the family’s Persian heritage—he made his troops wear Iranian uniforms and himself adopted the 12-pointed cap, a reference, as the scholar Deborah Hutton notes, to the 12 imams of Shia Muslims.

Ibrahim II (reign 1580-1627), on the other hand, was Sunni and is depicted in a style associated with the Indian faction at court, a reflection of his own attitudes. He was, for example, not only a lover of Marathi (much to the horror of a Mughal envoy, who found Ibrahim’s Persian weak) but also a great admirer of Hindu traditions. It was he who proclaimed himself son of Saraswati and Ganapati, studied Sanskrit, and went to the extent of renaming Bijapur “Vidyapur” to honour his favourite goddess.

Only two generations divided the orthodox Shia Ismail from Sunni Ibrahim (who was rumoured to be secretly Hindu) but there was a world of difference in their outlook.

The Adil Shahs certainly presented themselves as good Muslim rulers—indeed, even Ibrahim’s grave carries an inscription denying rumours that he was an apostate, affirming that he was a true believer of the Prophet’s message. But as this column showed previously in the case of Hindu Vijayanagar, official identity and self-image did not preclude the absorption of multiple influences, or even contradictory practice. The Adil Shahs, even as Muslims, alternated between Sunnism and Shiism, and it was their latter identity that often supplied the Mughals an excuse to invade in the name of religion—this when even Aurangzeb, who led the final charge against the “heretics”, was himself the son of a Shia mother. Add to this a give and take of culture from not only the Marathas (including Shivaji’s father, who served the Adil Shahs) but also Ottomans, Europeans and African grandees at court, and Bijapur was confirmed as an eclectic, mixed universe—one where the king had a formal identity that he could interpret strictly or with deliberate laxity, depending both on his predilections and official necessities.

But in this the Adil Shahs were hardly unique. The rayas of Vijayanagar shaped their self-image in Sanskritic terms and declared themselves consciously Hindu. And yet, one of them sought a marriage alliance with Catholic Portugal; many of them used the title “sultan”; and their sartorial tastes and everyday lives were influenced visibly by Persian culture. A raya might keep the Quran in court so that his Muslim nobles could prostrate before it, even as he destroyed mosques in enemy territory—policy depended on the context in which the king found himself. Further north, in Kashmir too, as Richard Eaton shows in his India In The Persianate Age, we witness such ironies.

Sultan Sikander (reign 1389-1413), for instance, was a destroyer of Hindu shrines and burner of Sanskrit books. But his son Zain al-Abdin (reign 1420-70), officially as devout a Muslim as his father, implemented the opposite policy: Not only did he resume temple grants, but under him the court also witnessed an unprecedented production of Sanskrit literature, as well as translation of Hindu texts into Persian for the ruler’s edification.

The greatest controversy, of course, arises in understanding Tipu Sultan of Mysore. To some, he is a giver of grants to Hindu temples and a protector of his non-Muslim subjects. Others cite his cruel conquest of Malabar, where Hindus were forced to renounce their religion, their temples demolished. But, simply put, the question is not one of either/or: The same king could act in opposite ways in different settings.

In Malabar, its chiefs and people were “infidels”, but in his settled territories in Mysore, Tipu had no qualms employing “infidel” Brahmins (including the celebrated Purniah) as officials. One was a land of conquest, where destruction of significant shrines was, to him, legitimate, while forced conversions were a method of flaunting to the Islamic world his commitment to their faith; but in his home territory, he was king in a broader sense, accepting of the land’s realities as well as its people. A villain in one reading, he could be a hero in another, employing his religious identity in different degrees, determined largely by the contingencies of politics.

It was this complicated reality that the painters of that Adil Shahi family portrait inadvertently conveyed in their work: a house of Muslim kings with Maratha blood, who cheerfully switched sects as they desired, and whose dynastic roster included all types—those whose faith guided them to extremes, and others for whom religion was more a formality, engaging as they did with a land of diverse realities.

Medium Rare is a column on society, politics and history. Manu S. Pillai is the author of The Ivory Throne (2015) and Rebel Sultans (2018).

Twitter – @UnamPillai

source: http://www.livemint.com / Live Mint / Home> Explore> Medium Rare / by Manu S. Pillai / September 05th, 2019

Deccan papers throw light on Aurangzeb rule

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Hyderabad, TELANGANA :

The king’s notes: The Yaddasht-i-Ahkam-i-Muqaddas with Aurangzeb’s imperial instructions. | Photo Credit: G. Ramakrishna
The king’s notes: The Yaddasht-i-Ahkam-i-Muqaddas with Aurangzeb’s imperial instructions. | Photo Credit: G. Ramakrishna

1.5 lakh indelible ink documents preserved in Hyderabad

Think Mughals and you think of Delhi and Agra. But few know that it is Hyderabad that houses the largest collection of written communications of their reign.

The Telangana Archives and Research Institute holds a whopping 1.55 lakh documents — all on handmade paper — including 5,000 from the period of Shah Jahan (1628-1658) and another 1.5 lakh of Aurangzeb (1658-1707). No other archive in the country, not even the National Archives in New Delhi, boasts of such a collection: it gives a graphic picture of the mansabdari system, military administration and revenue machinery of the Mughals in the Deccan. Written in Persian in Shikasta script, cursive style, the documents are linked and arranged in chronological order — date, month and regnal year-wise.

Slew of orders

The documents include Farman (order of the emperor), Nishan (order of a member of the royal family), Yaddasht-i-Ahkam-i-Muqaddas (memorandum containing imperial orders), Parwana (orders issued by higher authorities), Siyaha-Huzur (proceedings of the provincial court), Roznamcha-i-Waqai (daily news report), Qabzul Wasil (bill payments) and Arz-o-Chihra (documents on personnel and horses).

Aurangzeb spent 13 years as the subedar of Deccan during the reign of Shah Jahan and had vast experience in political and other matters. Even after he ascended the throne on July 25, 1658, he continued to focus on the Deccan to check the activities of his rebellious son Mohammed Akbar and on conquering Bijapur and Golconda, which he did in 1687.

According to State Archives director Zareena Parveen, the accountant-general of the erstwhile Hyderabad State, Syed Muhibuddin, went to Aurangabad (the headquarters of the Mughals) for an inspection in 1916 when he discovered a large number of old documents lying in the vaults of Fort Ark.

He took keen interest in preserving them and reported the matter to Daftar-i-Diwani, the administrative wing of Hyderabad State, headed by the superintendent Syed Khurshid Ali. Steps were taken to shift them to Daftar-i-Diwani, which eventually became State Archives. The paper, made by Chinese professionals, has withstood the vagaries of time. The papers remain intact even after water seeped into the archives a few years ago. “In fact they became brighter as it washed away the acidic material that covered the indelible ink used by the Mughals,” said Ms. Parveen.

An expert in Persian herself, Ms. Parveen arranged the documents chronologically, deciphering the contents, and put them in non-acidic dockets.

The documents reveal Aurangzeb’s administrative skills. The Yaddasht-i-Ahkam-i-Muqaddas shows reports on recommendations of pay hikes for staff sent to the emperor, who also had spies to report on negligence, and actions against the government.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Hyderabad> Sunday Special / by M. Rajeev / Hyderabad – August 11th, 2018

From Fergana to Delhi

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NEW DELHI :

BaburMPOs18jun2017

A Babur-focussed Uzbeki cultural project is using a common heritage to create a dialogue.

In July 1501, the great-great-greatgrandson of Timur (Tamerlane), Zahiruddin Muhammad Babur — the founder of Mughal empire — left his home in Fergana Valley in present day Uzbekistan. Five hundred years on, the Uzebki government is tracing his journey to India and his Indian connections as part of Cultural Legacy of Uzbekistan in Art Collections of the World project which began last year.

An effort to piece together the country’s history, researchers are connecting with international museums documenting the antiquity and artifacts connected to them. Till date, the Uzebki government has released 10 volumes and several short films on the cultural legacy of Uzbekistan with the help of information from leading museums in Russia, North America and Australia. “What they are doing is a first. They are not raising a dispute or demanding return of any antiquity. Instead, they are taking a holistic approach — using the common heritage to create a dialogue instead of stoking controversy,” says independent commentator Shashtri Ramachandaran, who participated in a two-day congress on the study organised by the Uzbek government.

An average Indian will be more familiar with United Kingdom, having followed their parliamentary and administrative methods or would be familiar with the cultural milieu of the United States, having developed an appetite for American TV shows. But barring academics, few are aware of the shared heritage between India and Uzbekistan that spans across centuries. A team of researchers from Uzebkistan visited the National Museum this April to piece together this lost history. “Their aim is to document material related to the Mughal era primarily. Once they present a formal proposal which is vetted by the Ministry of External Affairs and Ministry of Culture, they can start documenting work,” said Dr BR Mani, Director General, National Museum, who met with the Uzbekistan’s Ambassador last week to discuss the project.

The Uzbeki interest in the founder of the Mughal dynasty comes at a curious time, given that Babur’s successor Aurangzeb’s name was removed unceremoniously off Delhi’s roads for being an “invader”. Union Minister V K Singh even suggested that his grandfather Akbar should meet with a similar fate. In February this year, the BJP-led government in Rajasthan backed a proposal to rewrite history taught at the university level to attest that Rajput warrior-king Maharana Pratap won the Battle of Haldighati against Akbar’s Mughal army led by general Man Singh, despite historical evidence suggesting otherwise. In the same vein, RSS ideologue Indresh Kumar recently suggested that Babur and his army general Mir Baqi should be tried in court for destroying Ram Mandir in Ayodhya.

History suggests that Babur lived in India for only four years and died at the age of 47 in 1530 after successfully ousting Ibrahim Lodhi (in the Battle of Panipat in 1526). But his legacy lived on. The Babri Masjid demolition in December 1992 triggered the campaign to decry the Mughals as invaders. “Labeling the Mughals as “invaders” is bogus, historically. But Hindu nationalists do not use this label as a historical claim,” says Professor Audrey Truscke, who received severe backlash over her recent book Aurangzeb: the Man and the Myth. She adds that maligning Mughals is only a means to fuel “anti-Muslim sentiment in the present”. “It is a shameful business, especially at a time when vigilante violence against Muslims is on the rise,” she adds.

Babur was not Indian, even less an Uzbeki. He tried at least thrice to win Samarkhand but failed. “Babur took Samarkand one last time with help from the Safavids of Persia in 1513. However, as he had to publicly acknowledge his support for Qizilbash Shiism, his subjects turned against him,” explains Professor Ali Anooshahr from the History Department of the University of California.

During his time in India, Babur influenced architecture, culture, warfare and even introduced Indians to the sweet melons of Fergana. When Babur reached India, he was disappointed that the only fruit available was mango. It is said that he personally monitored planting of watermelons and musk melons. “In Babarnama, Babur writes about the apricots and pomegranates of Marghilan, fruit trees of Isfara, the melons of Bukhara, and the apples of Samarkand. He also recalled with pleasure, the various flowing rivers and brooks in that region,” adds Prof Anooshahr.

At the museum, the Uzbeki experts are particularly interested in manuscripts of the Holy Quran, scribed in Uzbekistan, which were presented to the Mughal emperors, as is evident from the royal seals on the cover page. Also of interest are 15 illustrated folios of the Baburnama. He wrote his autobiography in Chagatai language, the spoken language of the Andija-Timurids. It was during the reign of Akbar that the work was completely translated in Persian. According to Prof Anooshahr, the most comprehensive copy of the original is the Hyderabad manuscript. “Although I do not know where exactly that copy is located right now,” he adds.

The Uzbeki researchers are now looking at sources beyond the National Museum. “It is gratifying to realize that the culture of such a great country is connected with ours. We are planning to publish a couple of albums in India, depending on the results of our work,” said Professor Andrey Zybkin, the Uzbeki project coordinator.

Few sites of the Babur era have stood the test of time. Some of them include, West Delhi’s Babur era mosque, the Babri Masjid and Ram Bagh in Agra. But it is not just the Mughal era that is of interest. India and Uzbekistan go as far back as the Kushan Dynasty. The Kushan Empire, spanning an area of 37 lakh kilometres, extended from Bihar to southern Uzbekistan. It was an era when the Indian sub-continent saw extraordinary exchange of art and ideas. “At present we do not have first-hand information on the Kushan period artifacts found in Uzbekistan. It will be interesting to see how the pottery, social behaviour and culture changed from Fergana valley to Mathura,” Dr Mani added.

Apart from the Mughals and Kushans, there are other points of convergence between the two nations. Gujaratis had close trade ties with Uzbekis, so did Parsis and Armenian Christians. Professor A K Pasha from JNU explains that somewhere this search for their history is part of a “resurgence of old identity”. “For years, the Uzbeki culture was subjugated and overpowered by Russians. The Islamic feeling is growing which is why they want to resurrect their old identity,” explains Pasha.

source: http://www.mumbaimirror.indiatimes.com / Mumbai Mirror / Home> Others> Sunday Read / by Sobhana K Nair, Mumbai Mirror / June 18th, 2017

History Revisted : How knowledge travelled from East to West (and back again) in the early modern world

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The flow of scholarly work between the Mughals and Europe involved translation, re-translation, re-interpretation and development.

Mughals&EuropeMPOs01apr072016

Christoph Clavius was born in Bamberg in either 1538 or 1537 (an amusing discrepancy for a scientist whose fame derives from his work on calendar reform) and was initiated into the Jesuit order by Saint Ignatius Loyola in Rome in 1555, and passed away in 1612, an eminent scholar.

Many of Clavius’ works were influenced by Latin translations of Arabic scientific works, including those of Ibn Rushd (in particular his commentary on Aristotle), the astronomers Abū Ma‘shar, al-Biṭrūjī and al-Farghānī, as well as the mathematician Thābit b. Qurra, among many other scientists writing in Arabic and Persian whose works Clavius cites.

Book 4 of Christoph Clavius, Gnomonices Libri Octo, published in Rome in 1581 (533.k.2, pp. 442-43).
Book 4 of Christoph Clavius, Gnomonices Libri Octo, published in Rome in 1581 (533.k.2, pp. 442-43).

Clavius is an excellent example of the many Jesuit scientists of his age who continued to teach Ptolemaic astronomy (i.e. a geocentric vision of the solar system, indeed the universe, in which the planets and stars orbited the earth in concentric circles), despite the rise of – and often despite their own familiarity with and endorsement of – Copernican astronomy.

Christoph Clavius’ Gnomonices Libri Octo, on the art of gnomonics (timekeeping through the use of a sundial), was published in 1581

Mu‘tamid Khān's Arabic translation of the identical passage (IO Islamic 1308, ff. 289v-290).
Mu‘tamid Khān’s Arabic translation of the identical passage (IO Islamic 1308, ff. 289v-290).

Arabic version

This work also exists in a fascinating Arabic translation emanating from the Mughal empire that was purchased by Richard Johnson (1753-1807), a well-known collector of manuscripts and miniature paintings who worked for the East India Company.

Johnson made an annotation on the flyleaf of the manuscript that the translator of Clavius’ work was sent to Portugal by Aurangzeb – presumably to study or in some diplomatic capacity.

The full note reads, “Upon Dialling. Work of Clavius in Latin translated into Arabic by Maatemed Khan who went to Portugal in the time of Aurungzebe. This is the original foul copy of the translation in the hand of the translator (i.e., the ‘foul copy’ being the first draft, in contrast to the ‘fair copy’).”

Richard Johnson's explanatory note (IO Islamic 1308).
Richard Johnson’s explanatory note (IO Islamic 1308).

A further note, in Arabic, added by the translator’s son, reads: “Draft of the Book of Measures [Kitāb al-Maqāyīs] which was composed by Clavius the Frank [Kalāwīūs al-Firinjī] in the Latin language, and my father, God have mercy on him, translated it into the [clear – mubīn?] Arabic language, possessor of virtuous talents including the perfection of acquired knowledge,

Rustam called Mu‘tamad Khān, the son of Qubād, gatherer of proofs of knowledge, perceiving the secrets of the spoken and the tacit, given the name Diyānat Khān al-Ḥārithī al-Badakhshī, may God be fair with both of them and elevate them.

Signed: I, who am a feeble slave begging for the mercy of the One and the intercession of the Prophet, Mīrzā Muḥammad, may God cause him to attain eternal happiness”.

Note by Muʻtamad Khān's son (IO Islamic 1308, f.1v).
Note by Muʻtamad Khān’s son (IO Islamic 1308, f.1v).

 Complex process

This translation offers some fascinating possibilities.

The first is the demonstration of how knowledge circulated in the early modern world.

Clavius’ work, which responded to and was inspired by Arabic mathematicians and scientists in Latin translation, here a generation after its publication is translated back into Arabic to be read, presumably by elites at the court of Aurangzeb, where the work’s translator and his son were courtiers.

This translation demonstrates the complexity of knowledge flows – that they were synchronic as well as diachronic, and also involved a process not just of translation, but of re-translation, re-interpretation and development as they travelled.

Furthermore, the inscriptions taken in tandem, one in English made by an East India official, the other in Arabic by a Mughal courtier, open the possibility that already in Aurangzeb’s reign, Mughal elites travelled to Europe perhaps to study.

In the case of Mu‘tamid Khan, the translator of this text, he mastered the technical idiom of geometry and mathematics in Latin, and then translated it into an equally complex scholarly language, Arabic. Not an uncommon intellectual feat at the Mughal court, this process of scientific translation remains to be studied in depth.

It is also possible that the presence of the Jesuits at Goa had an influence on the production of this translation, but firm evidence remains to be found.

 This article first appeared on the British Library’s Asian and African Studies blog.

source: http://www.scroll.in / Scroll.in / Home> History Revisited / by Nur Sobers-Khan / March 30th, 2016