What do you think?
Rate this book
Attendant Lords: Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim, Courtiers and Poets in Mughal India
Bairam Khan and his son, Abdur Rahim Khan-i-Khanan were soldiers, poets and courtiers whose lives reflected the turbulent times they lived in. In telling their stories, Attendant Lords spans the reigns of four emperors - Babur, Humayun, Akbar and Jahangir - and covers over a hundred years of Mughal history, a time when these two noblemen were at the very heart of the court's labyrinthine politics.
After Humayun's untimely death, Bairam Khan was regent to the young Emperor Akbar for four critical years. Bairam's own son, Abdur Rahim, became one of the most important generals of the Mughal Empire, but he is best remembered for his literary prowess, most particularly for his famous 'dohas'. Literature plays a large part in this story.
This unusual dual biography traces the lives of these two noblemen against the backdrop of the courtly intrigues, brutal power struggles and the grand literary endeavours of the Mughal court. And it looks at their afterlives - how politics and the Hindi-Urdu debate reincarnated them as national heroes; how both men came to be seen as standing at the confluence of Hinduism and Islam; how their life stories have undergone subtle transformations; and how history, religion and literature combine in the broader context of nationalism and nation building.
After Humayun's untimely death, Bairam Khan was regent to the young Emperor Akbar for four critical years. Bairam's own son, Abdur Rahim, became one of the most important generals of the Mughal Empire, but he is best remembered for his literary prowess, most particularly for his famous 'dohas'. Literature plays a large part in this story.
This unusual dual biography traces the lives of these two noblemen against the backdrop of the courtly intrigues, brutal power struggles and the grand literary endeavours of the Mughal court. And it looks at their afterlives - how politics and the Hindi-Urdu debate reincarnated them as national heroes; how both men came to be seen as standing at the confluence of Hinduism and Islam; how their life stories have undergone subtle transformations; and how history, religion and literature combine in the broader context of nationalism and nation building.
352 pages, Hardcover
Published February 27, 2018
6 people are currently reading
118 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
March 3, 2017
In Delhi’s Nizamuddin area, just off one of the city’s busiest main roads, sits a large mausoleum, its stark rubble dome in sharp contrast to the impressive proportions of the building itself. Few of the thousands who traverse this stretch of Mathura Road everyday would know who is buried here. Some, when told that this is the tomb of Abdur Rahim Khan-i-Khanan, would probably recognize the name as that of one of the foremost generals and statesmen of Akbar’s court.
But mention that the occupant of this tomb is Rahim, the Rahim of Hindi poetry, and there is likely to be an immediate recall. In Delhi, across North and Central India, in all places where Hindi is spoken and school textbooks contain the dohas of Rahim, Abdur Rahim lives on. Those who have studied his dohas may have forgotten that he was something more than a poet, but they remember, at least, that Hindi literature counts him among its greatest.
In Attendant Lords: Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim, Courtiers & Poets in Mughal India, TCA Raghavan documents the life of Abdur Rahim, as well as that of his father, the equally illustrious Bairam Khan, known primarily as regent to the young Akbar after the death of Humayun. Beginning with a background of the family’s origins—part of a tribal confederation known as the Qara Qoyunlu, with marriage ties to the Timurids and importantly with Babur—Raghavan traces the life of Bairam Khan, who arrived in Babur’s court at the age of sixteen. Well-educated, accomplished in the martial arts, and with enviable political connections, Bairam could have been expected to shine in Babur’s court, but appears to have come into his element only much later, when Babur’s successor, the ill-fated Humayun, became involved in a protracted struggle with Sher Shah to hold onto the empire Babur had established in India.
Bairam’s role in this book is relatively short: it is his son, Abdur Rahim, left fatherless when Bairam was assassinated at Patan in 1561 CE, to whom much of the book is devoted. Abdur Rahim served under three emperors: Akbar, Jahangir and Shahjahan, in what was to be a turbulent period of Mughal history. The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were a period of expansion, and of wars (in particular, when it comes to Abdur Rahim’s involvement, with Gujarat and the Deccan). It was also a time of shifting rivalries, of political intrigue, and of a volatile socio-cultural and religious scenario. Akbar’s liberal leanings—his abolition of the jaziyah tax levied on non-Muslims, his openness towards followers of beliefs other than Islam, and his propounding of the Din-i-Ilahi—were to draw flak from many quarters. In such a situation, a general (a ‘true Muslim’, as a contemporary referred to Rahim) who wrote Hindi poetry that often followed the common traditions of Krishna-bhakti and Ram-bhakti, could be considered an anomaly.
While Raghavan’s book follows a chronological pattern, narrating the main political and martial events of Abdur Rahim’s career, every now and then, he shifts focus to the simultaneous literary development of Rahim. The young man, for instance, writing erotic verses in his works, Barvai Nayika Bhed and Nagar Shobha, describing in titillating and sometimes witty detail the sexual preferences and proclivities of women of various castes and professions. Or the more mature man, moving on from barvais to dohas, writing couplets that praise Hindu deities or refer to Hindu scriptures to put across a point:
Chhote kaam bade karein, toh na badaayi hoye,
Jyon Rahim Hanumant ko, Girdhar kahe na koye
(As Raghavan translates this:
Krishna is called Giridhar
Hanuman’s achievements are wondrous, yet no one calls him Giridhar).
Or, the ageing statesman, fallen out of favour, accused of conspiracy and beset by troubles, whose dohas speak of everyday philosophy:
Jo Rahim gati deep ki, kul kapoot gati soye
Baare ujiyaaro lage, badhe andhera hoye
(A bad son when young is the apple of his family’s eye
But as his character becomes known, darkness spreads in the family)
This—the literary side of Rahim—is the most fascinating aspect of Attendant Lords. The historical part of the book, even though narrated from an angle most appropriate to Abdur Rahim, can on occasion be a little too detailed for the impatient lay reader. Where Raghavan excels is in shedding light on Rahim’s career as a poet. He examines the trajectory of Rahim’s poetry, analyzes the surprisingly Hindu devotional aspect of a Muslim poet, and, importantly, shows how Rahim’s stature came to be what it is in modern India. Till well into the nineteenth century, Rahim’s work was more or less ignored; he was mentioned, if at all, very briefly in listings of Hindi poets. Today he is widely acclaimed.
How did an eminent poet of the seventeenth century sink into near-complete obscurity? How did he rise, suddenly and meteorically, in the 1920s, to become one of Hindi literature’s most revered poets, and an emblem of nationalism? (In Raghavan’s words, ‘…Rahim’s reputation as the sage statesman of Hindi literature was wholly formulated by the end of the third decade of the twentieth century and only grew as the national movement progressed. His status was derived in considerable measure from his Hindu devotional verse and this aspect of his work was viewed as indisputable evidence of his Indianness, even as communalism, separatism and the partition took their toll on the national psyche.’ )
How did the breaking apart of Hindi and Urdu (an interesting story in itself, tied to the British and their bureaucracy) influence the shared literature of these languages? How does the linguistic and religious backdrop of Rahim’s poetry—considering he wrote not just in Hindi, but also in Persian and Sanskrit—affect his standing in Hindi literature? In Persian literature? How does Rahim’s (as well as Bairam Khan’s) legacy live on today, in popular culture, in literature, and in built heritage?
Raghavan, on the basis of what is obviously an impressive amount of research, examines each of these topics. In the process, he touches on issues other than just Mughal history and literature; he also discusses subjects that have, in recent years, again become sensitive issues: language and its (perceived?) ties with religion, politics and religion, religious fundamentalism.
The end product is a book that, while it offers an insight into Mughal history during the reigns of Humayun, Akbar, and Jahangir, is also a means of reflecting upon language and literature. Through his discussion of Rahim and his work, Raghavan highlights much that would be food for thought. This is a book unlike either Abraham Eraly’s several rather more wide-ranging books on the Mughals and their empire, and yet not as intensely personal a biography as, say, Julia Keay’s Farzana, the story of Begum Samru. Attendant Lords, instead, manages to successfully be both a scholarly work as well as an intriguing look at two of Mughal India’s more famous—but still relatively unknown—noblemen.
If there is a flaw, it is in that Attendant Lords provides only one verse (the famous Rahiman paani raakhiye) in a transliterated form. Others, both Rahim’s barvais as well as his dohas, appear in their translations, but not transliterated. This makes for a sad lack of Rahim’s own words in a book about his poetry. For example,
If a broken pearl necklace must be restrung with each bead found
A good friend must be appeased, even if he gets angry a hundred times
lacks the flavour of the original:
Toote sajan manaaiye, jo toote sau baar
Rahiman phiri phiri pohiye, toote muktahaar
But Rahim, philosophical and large-hearted as he appears to have been, might have taken that in his stride.
(From my review for The Wire: https://thewire.in/113312/attendant-l...)
But mention that the occupant of this tomb is Rahim, the Rahim of Hindi poetry, and there is likely to be an immediate recall. In Delhi, across North and Central India, in all places where Hindi is spoken and school textbooks contain the dohas of Rahim, Abdur Rahim lives on. Those who have studied his dohas may have forgotten that he was something more than a poet, but they remember, at least, that Hindi literature counts him among its greatest.
In Attendant Lords: Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim, Courtiers & Poets in Mughal India, TCA Raghavan documents the life of Abdur Rahim, as well as that of his father, the equally illustrious Bairam Khan, known primarily as regent to the young Akbar after the death of Humayun. Beginning with a background of the family’s origins—part of a tribal confederation known as the Qara Qoyunlu, with marriage ties to the Timurids and importantly with Babur—Raghavan traces the life of Bairam Khan, who arrived in Babur’s court at the age of sixteen. Well-educated, accomplished in the martial arts, and with enviable political connections, Bairam could have been expected to shine in Babur’s court, but appears to have come into his element only much later, when Babur’s successor, the ill-fated Humayun, became involved in a protracted struggle with Sher Shah to hold onto the empire Babur had established in India.
Bairam’s role in this book is relatively short: it is his son, Abdur Rahim, left fatherless when Bairam was assassinated at Patan in 1561 CE, to whom much of the book is devoted. Abdur Rahim served under three emperors: Akbar, Jahangir and Shahjahan, in what was to be a turbulent period of Mughal history. The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were a period of expansion, and of wars (in particular, when it comes to Abdur Rahim’s involvement, with Gujarat and the Deccan). It was also a time of shifting rivalries, of political intrigue, and of a volatile socio-cultural and religious scenario. Akbar’s liberal leanings—his abolition of the jaziyah tax levied on non-Muslims, his openness towards followers of beliefs other than Islam, and his propounding of the Din-i-Ilahi—were to draw flak from many quarters. In such a situation, a general (a ‘true Muslim’, as a contemporary referred to Rahim) who wrote Hindi poetry that often followed the common traditions of Krishna-bhakti and Ram-bhakti, could be considered an anomaly.
While Raghavan’s book follows a chronological pattern, narrating the main political and martial events of Abdur Rahim’s career, every now and then, he shifts focus to the simultaneous literary development of Rahim. The young man, for instance, writing erotic verses in his works, Barvai Nayika Bhed and Nagar Shobha, describing in titillating and sometimes witty detail the sexual preferences and proclivities of women of various castes and professions. Or the more mature man, moving on from barvais to dohas, writing couplets that praise Hindu deities or refer to Hindu scriptures to put across a point:
Chhote kaam bade karein, toh na badaayi hoye,
Jyon Rahim Hanumant ko, Girdhar kahe na koye
(As Raghavan translates this:
Krishna is called Giridhar
Hanuman’s achievements are wondrous, yet no one calls him Giridhar).
Or, the ageing statesman, fallen out of favour, accused of conspiracy and beset by troubles, whose dohas speak of everyday philosophy:
Jo Rahim gati deep ki, kul kapoot gati soye
Baare ujiyaaro lage, badhe andhera hoye
(A bad son when young is the apple of his family’s eye
But as his character becomes known, darkness spreads in the family)
This—the literary side of Rahim—is the most fascinating aspect of Attendant Lords. The historical part of the book, even though narrated from an angle most appropriate to Abdur Rahim, can on occasion be a little too detailed for the impatient lay reader. Where Raghavan excels is in shedding light on Rahim’s career as a poet. He examines the trajectory of Rahim’s poetry, analyzes the surprisingly Hindu devotional aspect of a Muslim poet, and, importantly, shows how Rahim’s stature came to be what it is in modern India. Till well into the nineteenth century, Rahim’s work was more or less ignored; he was mentioned, if at all, very briefly in listings of Hindi poets. Today he is widely acclaimed.
How did an eminent poet of the seventeenth century sink into near-complete obscurity? How did he rise, suddenly and meteorically, in the 1920s, to become one of Hindi literature’s most revered poets, and an emblem of nationalism? (In Raghavan’s words, ‘…Rahim’s reputation as the sage statesman of Hindi literature was wholly formulated by the end of the third decade of the twentieth century and only grew as the national movement progressed. His status was derived in considerable measure from his Hindu devotional verse and this aspect of his work was viewed as indisputable evidence of his Indianness, even as communalism, separatism and the partition took their toll on the national psyche.’ )
How did the breaking apart of Hindi and Urdu (an interesting story in itself, tied to the British and their bureaucracy) influence the shared literature of these languages? How does the linguistic and religious backdrop of Rahim’s poetry—considering he wrote not just in Hindi, but also in Persian and Sanskrit—affect his standing in Hindi literature? In Persian literature? How does Rahim’s (as well as Bairam Khan’s) legacy live on today, in popular culture, in literature, and in built heritage?
Raghavan, on the basis of what is obviously an impressive amount of research, examines each of these topics. In the process, he touches on issues other than just Mughal history and literature; he also discusses subjects that have, in recent years, again become sensitive issues: language and its (perceived?) ties with religion, politics and religion, religious fundamentalism.
The end product is a book that, while it offers an insight into Mughal history during the reigns of Humayun, Akbar, and Jahangir, is also a means of reflecting upon language and literature. Through his discussion of Rahim and his work, Raghavan highlights much that would be food for thought. This is a book unlike either Abraham Eraly’s several rather more wide-ranging books on the Mughals and their empire, and yet not as intensely personal a biography as, say, Julia Keay’s Farzana, the story of Begum Samru. Attendant Lords, instead, manages to successfully be both a scholarly work as well as an intriguing look at two of Mughal India’s more famous—but still relatively unknown—noblemen.
If there is a flaw, it is in that Attendant Lords provides only one verse (the famous Rahiman paani raakhiye) in a transliterated form. Others, both Rahim’s barvais as well as his dohas, appear in their translations, but not transliterated. This makes for a sad lack of Rahim’s own words in a book about his poetry. For example,
If a broken pearl necklace must be restrung with each bead found
A good friend must be appeased, even if he gets angry a hundred times
lacks the flavour of the original:
Toote sajan manaaiye, jo toote sau baar
Rahiman phiri phiri pohiye, toote muktahaar
But Rahim, philosophical and large-hearted as he appears to have been, might have taken that in his stride.
(From my review for The Wire: https://thewire.in/113312/attendant-l...)
August 5, 2022
Taking its title from T.S. Eliot’s J. Alfred Prufrock, Attendant Lords: Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim: Courtiers & Poets in Mughal India (2017), traces the stories of Bairam Khan (1501–1561) and his son Abdur Rahim (1556–1627), nobles of Persian ancestry who together served under the first four Mughal emperors and rose to high positions (both given the title Khan-i-Khanan or King of Kings, the highest title for nobles) but also fell from grace at different times. The author T. C. A. Raghavan is a former diplomat, having served as India’s High Commissioner to Singapore and Pakistan, and holds a PhD in history from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. He has written on both history and international relations.
Based on the limited record available on Bairam and the more detailed one on Rahim, as well of course as the period they were prominent in court and the duration of their lives, only the first chapter of the book is devoted to Bairam and four to Rahim, while the last traces Rahim’s legacy, and how he and more so his poetry lives on to this day. An epilogue explores what became of their family and depictions in popular culture. While both men were military commanders, with Bairam serving as regent for 5 years for the third Mughal emperor Akbar who had to take the throne at age 13, and Abdur Rahim leading important military campaigns to Gujarat and the Deccan, the eternal thorn in the Mughals’ side, both were also poets, with hundreds of verses attributed to them. Rahim who is best known today for his couplets or dohas which most school students in Hindi speaking regions at least are introduced to at some point or other, wrote in several languages; some of his early works (written as early as age 14) were in three languages—Sanskrit, Hindi, and Persian. He also wrote in Braj and Avadhi, and at one point is noted by a contemporary source as expressing interest in learning or having started to learn Portuguese and Latin as well. As was the case in those days (even now, in fact, though consequences are different), both found favour and rose at court but also saw stormy days, and rather tragic ends.
This is an excellently researched (of particular note is the chapter on Rahim’s legacy which meticulously reviews and analyses Hindi, Urdu and other works from contemporary times to the present to examine how Rahim’s poetry was remembered and received at different times) and very readable volume which takes us into the lives of these two remarkable men but also into the Mughal empire from its initial days under Babur, to the difficulties that Humayun faced when trying to balance things out with his brothers, through the long reign of Akbar which saw rich cultural life alongside matters of empire, and finally that of Jahangir, during whose rule, Rahim faced perhaps the worst period of his life, as Jahangir too had to deal with the rebellion of his son, Shah Jahan, as also one of his generals.
One aspect that stood out to me when reading the book was how cultural and military life went almost hand in hand in the court at this time. While I did know of course that cultural life was rich and there were always court poets, and nobles and royalty were patrons of the arts and literature, what I learnt was how ‘fully cultured’ men at the time (including Emperors themselves) were expected to display their skills at war and in court which meant not only military prowess but also wit and polish, and poetic skills as well for letters were written and responded to in verse, in part of course to flatter, but also as a testament to skill. Court poets too, were not only there to entertain but served as ambassadors when required. Besides writing poetry himself, Rahim was also a great patron of poets and writers and had an enviable library of 24,000 volumes (to build which he spent freely and made much effort).
Rahim’s poetry and indeed the broader literary culture of the time reflects the liberal and syncretic atmosphere of Akbar’s court where different languages and traditions mingled, and religions were discussed and debated. But of course, Akbar’s liberal attitude had its critics too, and those with a more orthodox bent expressed dissent and wrote petitions regularly. But it was a period when people with varying and opposed views and ideologies seemed to coexist.
The court was of course rife with intrigues and politics, and everyone whatever be their position had to always tread carefully, for power equations changed almost constantly. While victory in battle could bring one much glory, equally a defeat could see fingers pointed and treachery alleged. Things got most heated at times when possible heirs battled each other and even the emperor to establish their position.
For a period for which we have a fairly strong contemporary historical record, through official court historians as well as other observers (including travellers), it was somewhat surprising to see that in the case of nobles like Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim, there are still periods of their lives about which little is known. And in fact, through the author’s exploration of the record from which he tries to construct a picture of the two men, another interesting point that comes up, especially in Rahim’s case, is of how much a person themselves plays a role in constructing the image of themselves. Of Rahim for instance, much is known about the positions he occupied, the battles he led and fought (starting rather young), and the abundance of poetry that he wrote, yet even from all this and from contemporary accounts, little can be gauged about his beliefs, feelings, or even motivations. The author examines the record, brings up possible interpretations, points at obvious exaggerations but also highlights how we really can’t answer some questions at the end of the day.
A book which I really enjoyed reading for the picture it gives one not only of its subjects but also of the period and especially the significant role that literature and poetry played in it.
Based on the limited record available on Bairam and the more detailed one on Rahim, as well of course as the period they were prominent in court and the duration of their lives, only the first chapter of the book is devoted to Bairam and four to Rahim, while the last traces Rahim’s legacy, and how he and more so his poetry lives on to this day. An epilogue explores what became of their family and depictions in popular culture. While both men were military commanders, with Bairam serving as regent for 5 years for the third Mughal emperor Akbar who had to take the throne at age 13, and Abdur Rahim leading important military campaigns to Gujarat and the Deccan, the eternal thorn in the Mughals’ side, both were also poets, with hundreds of verses attributed to them. Rahim who is best known today for his couplets or dohas which most school students in Hindi speaking regions at least are introduced to at some point or other, wrote in several languages; some of his early works (written as early as age 14) were in three languages—Sanskrit, Hindi, and Persian. He also wrote in Braj and Avadhi, and at one point is noted by a contemporary source as expressing interest in learning or having started to learn Portuguese and Latin as well. As was the case in those days (even now, in fact, though consequences are different), both found favour and rose at court but also saw stormy days, and rather tragic ends.
This is an excellently researched (of particular note is the chapter on Rahim’s legacy which meticulously reviews and analyses Hindi, Urdu and other works from contemporary times to the present to examine how Rahim’s poetry was remembered and received at different times) and very readable volume which takes us into the lives of these two remarkable men but also into the Mughal empire from its initial days under Babur, to the difficulties that Humayun faced when trying to balance things out with his brothers, through the long reign of Akbar which saw rich cultural life alongside matters of empire, and finally that of Jahangir, during whose rule, Rahim faced perhaps the worst period of his life, as Jahangir too had to deal with the rebellion of his son, Shah Jahan, as also one of his generals.
One aspect that stood out to me when reading the book was how cultural and military life went almost hand in hand in the court at this time. While I did know of course that cultural life was rich and there were always court poets, and nobles and royalty were patrons of the arts and literature, what I learnt was how ‘fully cultured’ men at the time (including Emperors themselves) were expected to display their skills at war and in court which meant not only military prowess but also wit and polish, and poetic skills as well for letters were written and responded to in verse, in part of course to flatter, but also as a testament to skill. Court poets too, were not only there to entertain but served as ambassadors when required. Besides writing poetry himself, Rahim was also a great patron of poets and writers and had an enviable library of 24,000 volumes (to build which he spent freely and made much effort).
Rahim’s poetry and indeed the broader literary culture of the time reflects the liberal and syncretic atmosphere of Akbar’s court where different languages and traditions mingled, and religions were discussed and debated. But of course, Akbar’s liberal attitude had its critics too, and those with a more orthodox bent expressed dissent and wrote petitions regularly. But it was a period when people with varying and opposed views and ideologies seemed to coexist.
The court was of course rife with intrigues and politics, and everyone whatever be their position had to always tread carefully, for power equations changed almost constantly. While victory in battle could bring one much glory, equally a defeat could see fingers pointed and treachery alleged. Things got most heated at times when possible heirs battled each other and even the emperor to establish their position.
For a period for which we have a fairly strong contemporary historical record, through official court historians as well as other observers (including travellers), it was somewhat surprising to see that in the case of nobles like Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim, there are still periods of their lives about which little is known. And in fact, through the author’s exploration of the record from which he tries to construct a picture of the two men, another interesting point that comes up, especially in Rahim’s case, is of how much a person themselves plays a role in constructing the image of themselves. Of Rahim for instance, much is known about the positions he occupied, the battles he led and fought (starting rather young), and the abundance of poetry that he wrote, yet even from all this and from contemporary accounts, little can be gauged about his beliefs, feelings, or even motivations. The author examines the record, brings up possible interpretations, points at obvious exaggerations but also highlights how we really can’t answer some questions at the end of the day.
A book which I really enjoyed reading for the picture it gives one not only of its subjects but also of the period and especially the significant role that literature and poetry played in it.
February 20, 2021
Book: Attendant Lords: Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim, Courtiers and Poets in Mughal India
Author: T.C.A.Raghavan
Publisher: HarperCollins; 1st edition (10 February 2017)
Language: English
Hardcover: 352 pages
Item Weight: 390 g
Dimensions: 14.48 x 2.29 x 21.59 cm
Country of Origin: India
Price: 324 /-
“As dusk fell on the last day of January 1561, an ageing nobleman was boating in the Sahasralinga Talav, on the outskirts of Patan. His bearing was distinguished; even in a boat, his air of authority was apparent. Yet, the entourage waiting on the bank of the lake was quite small. He had spent some time sitting in the small pavilion at the centre of the lake, but now he was being rowed back to the bank.
As his boat approached, a group of men – Afghans by their appearance – came forward to pay their respects. The noble obviously found this unsurprising and directed the boatman towards them, some fifty yards away. The man at the head of the Afghan group greeted the nobleman courteously as he alighted from the boat. As they embraced, the Afghan unsheathed a dagger and planted it in the nobleman’s back with such force that it pierced right through, emerging from the breast. Another Afghan struck with a sword to the head. Death came instantaneously, but one source describes the nobleman, blood gushing from his wounds, reciting the words of the Shahadat as he lay dying: there is no God except Allah and Muhammad is his Prophet.
The life of Bairam Khan, Emperor Humayun’s most trusted general and Emperor Akbar’s regent, ended that evening on the banks of the Sahasralinga Talav in Patan, Gujarat. A Turkmen by birth, his eminent position during the last decade of Humayun’s life and in the early years of Akbar’s reign is recorded frequently in the miniatures painted to illustrate contemporary milestones. The most dramatic is, naturally, a representation of the assassination. We see the Afghans outnumbering Bairam Khan’s small entourage; his followers fleeing in disarray; his camp, some distance away, attacked and plundered; his body unguarded and untended by the lakeside….”
This book is about the lives of two noblemen in Mughal India: Bairam Khan Khan-i-Khanan (c. 1497–1561) and his son Abdur Rahim Khan-i-Khanan (1556–1626).
In any period and in any country, these would have been unusual men. Bairam was a Persian Turkmen, implant of a famed clan that was prominent in Persia and Central Asia in the 15th century. He stands out in Mughal history as the regent of the empire for five years after the untimely death of Emperor Humayun, when Akbar was still a child and too young to rule.
Bairam’s son, Abdur Rahim, became one of the grand generals of the Mughal Empire and a premier noble during the reigns of Akbar and Jahangir. Abdur Rahim’s political and military attainments exceed his father’s, but he is best remembered for his literary competence. He was one of the great patrons of Persian literature of his time; in the history of Hindi literature, he has an even greater standing as a stupendous poet in a century of literary achievement.
Between them, the father and son straddled some hundred years of Mughal history in India, living through the reigns of four emperors, and their amazing and turbulent trajectories mirror both the grand designs and the disparaging courtly deceptions of Mughal politics.
The author divides his book into the following six chapters:
1. Bairam
2. The Young Noble
3. The Senior Commander
4. The Deccan
5. The Twilight Years
6. Afterlife: Rahiman and Abdur Rahim
In the 16th and early 17th centuries Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim stood at the confluence of the faiths of Islam and Hinduism. It was a defining time elsewhere too, for the following reasons:
1) In Europe, Protestant–Catholic divergences were rampant; Luther and Calvin were advocating an open insolence of centuries of established Roman Catholic doctrine.
2) In England the great Tudors, Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, were laying the foundations of future English maritime and commercial dominance.
3) Kepler, Copernicus, Galileo and Shakespeare were restyling ideas of science and literature. In northern India too this was the age of a great literary and spiritual effervescence as under the Mughals, India once again entered the age of a centralized empire.
With the poet saints Tulsidas and Surdas, a spiritual community of commitment to the Hindu gods, Rama and Krishna, was consolidated and concurrently Braj Bhasha and Avadhi were transformed from the status of dialects to the maturity of full-fledged languages.
If the devotional verses of these poets catalysed this makeover, worldly – fundamentally courtly and sensuous – poetry such as of the great Keshavdas played an uniformly momentous role in the literary revolution in north India in the 16th century.
Literature plays a major part in the narrative of the author too, for both Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim regarded literary achievement as a means to political status as well as a vital adjunct in its consolidation.
An account of these two lives, substantial and extraordinary though they undoubtedly were, would nevertheless be incomplete if we stopped with their life stories. The shadows of Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim touch our times as well: these real-life medieval figures have been transformed into templates; their lives celebrated in numerous ways through association with significant milestones or other icons from history.
In these narratives, literary enterprise, history, language and religion are inextricably combined within a broader context of nationalism and nation building, as answers to the dilemmas of the present are sought in the perceived certainties of the past.
Subsequesnt to Abdur Rahim’s death in 1627, we can follow the threads of his family for another six to seven decades, after which the record quietly stops. The last direct trace of the family was uncovered in the early twentieth century and so, in a sense, it serves as a useful point to end this story that began with Bairam Khan joining Emperor Babur in Kabul.
From the decimation wrought on Abdur Rahim’s family during the civil war and succession strife of 1622–26, the sole survivor was Shah Nawaz Khan’s son, Minuchihr, who had defected to the imperial forces during Prince Khurram’s revolt.
He and his son Mohammad Munim were the remnants of Bairam Khan’s family and they bring its story up to Aurangzeb’s reign. Both had respectable, if unspectacular, careers largely in the Deccan: Mohammad Munim was governor of the fort of Ahmednagar early in Auranzgeb’s reign; his father too appears to have spent long years in the Deccan.
This absorbing book tells you a story of life and politics in Mughal India. Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim Khan-i-Khanan were authoritative men at the heart of the Mughal court. Their military feats, political acumen and their closeness to successive emperors brought them great rewards and desirable positions, yet they were prey to all the jealousies and betrayals, ideological and religious contests and controversies that the acquisition of power and the loss of it inevitably brings, no matter in which century or country.
Their personal tragedies still resonate each time an act of miscalculation, or misjudgement, or the outmanoeuvring by a rival, or the simple arbitrariness of power takes its toll.
This utterly dispassionate account is a must must read for every medieval history buff.
A resounding 5 on 5 !!
Author: T.C.A.Raghavan
Publisher: HarperCollins; 1st edition (10 February 2017)
Language: English
Hardcover: 352 pages
Item Weight: 390 g
Dimensions: 14.48 x 2.29 x 21.59 cm
Country of Origin: India
Price: 324 /-
“As dusk fell on the last day of January 1561, an ageing nobleman was boating in the Sahasralinga Talav, on the outskirts of Patan. His bearing was distinguished; even in a boat, his air of authority was apparent. Yet, the entourage waiting on the bank of the lake was quite small. He had spent some time sitting in the small pavilion at the centre of the lake, but now he was being rowed back to the bank.
As his boat approached, a group of men – Afghans by their appearance – came forward to pay their respects. The noble obviously found this unsurprising and directed the boatman towards them, some fifty yards away. The man at the head of the Afghan group greeted the nobleman courteously as he alighted from the boat. As they embraced, the Afghan unsheathed a dagger and planted it in the nobleman’s back with such force that it pierced right through, emerging from the breast. Another Afghan struck with a sword to the head. Death came instantaneously, but one source describes the nobleman, blood gushing from his wounds, reciting the words of the Shahadat as he lay dying: there is no God except Allah and Muhammad is his Prophet.
The life of Bairam Khan, Emperor Humayun’s most trusted general and Emperor Akbar’s regent, ended that evening on the banks of the Sahasralinga Talav in Patan, Gujarat. A Turkmen by birth, his eminent position during the last decade of Humayun’s life and in the early years of Akbar’s reign is recorded frequently in the miniatures painted to illustrate contemporary milestones. The most dramatic is, naturally, a representation of the assassination. We see the Afghans outnumbering Bairam Khan’s small entourage; his followers fleeing in disarray; his camp, some distance away, attacked and plundered; his body unguarded and untended by the lakeside….”
This book is about the lives of two noblemen in Mughal India: Bairam Khan Khan-i-Khanan (c. 1497–1561) and his son Abdur Rahim Khan-i-Khanan (1556–1626).
In any period and in any country, these would have been unusual men. Bairam was a Persian Turkmen, implant of a famed clan that was prominent in Persia and Central Asia in the 15th century. He stands out in Mughal history as the regent of the empire for five years after the untimely death of Emperor Humayun, when Akbar was still a child and too young to rule.
Bairam’s son, Abdur Rahim, became one of the grand generals of the Mughal Empire and a premier noble during the reigns of Akbar and Jahangir. Abdur Rahim’s political and military attainments exceed his father’s, but he is best remembered for his literary competence. He was one of the great patrons of Persian literature of his time; in the history of Hindi literature, he has an even greater standing as a stupendous poet in a century of literary achievement.
Between them, the father and son straddled some hundred years of Mughal history in India, living through the reigns of four emperors, and their amazing and turbulent trajectories mirror both the grand designs and the disparaging courtly deceptions of Mughal politics.
The author divides his book into the following six chapters:
1. Bairam
2. The Young Noble
3. The Senior Commander
4. The Deccan
5. The Twilight Years
6. Afterlife: Rahiman and Abdur Rahim
In the 16th and early 17th centuries Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim stood at the confluence of the faiths of Islam and Hinduism. It was a defining time elsewhere too, for the following reasons:
1) In Europe, Protestant–Catholic divergences were rampant; Luther and Calvin were advocating an open insolence of centuries of established Roman Catholic doctrine.
2) In England the great Tudors, Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, were laying the foundations of future English maritime and commercial dominance.
3) Kepler, Copernicus, Galileo and Shakespeare were restyling ideas of science and literature. In northern India too this was the age of a great literary and spiritual effervescence as under the Mughals, India once again entered the age of a centralized empire.
With the poet saints Tulsidas and Surdas, a spiritual community of commitment to the Hindu gods, Rama and Krishna, was consolidated and concurrently Braj Bhasha and Avadhi were transformed from the status of dialects to the maturity of full-fledged languages.
If the devotional verses of these poets catalysed this makeover, worldly – fundamentally courtly and sensuous – poetry such as of the great Keshavdas played an uniformly momentous role in the literary revolution in north India in the 16th century.
Literature plays a major part in the narrative of the author too, for both Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim regarded literary achievement as a means to political status as well as a vital adjunct in its consolidation.
An account of these two lives, substantial and extraordinary though they undoubtedly were, would nevertheless be incomplete if we stopped with their life stories. The shadows of Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim touch our times as well: these real-life medieval figures have been transformed into templates; their lives celebrated in numerous ways through association with significant milestones or other icons from history.
In these narratives, literary enterprise, history, language and religion are inextricably combined within a broader context of nationalism and nation building, as answers to the dilemmas of the present are sought in the perceived certainties of the past.
Subsequesnt to Abdur Rahim’s death in 1627, we can follow the threads of his family for another six to seven decades, after which the record quietly stops. The last direct trace of the family was uncovered in the early twentieth century and so, in a sense, it serves as a useful point to end this story that began with Bairam Khan joining Emperor Babur in Kabul.
From the decimation wrought on Abdur Rahim’s family during the civil war and succession strife of 1622–26, the sole survivor was Shah Nawaz Khan’s son, Minuchihr, who had defected to the imperial forces during Prince Khurram’s revolt.
He and his son Mohammad Munim were the remnants of Bairam Khan’s family and they bring its story up to Aurangzeb’s reign. Both had respectable, if unspectacular, careers largely in the Deccan: Mohammad Munim was governor of the fort of Ahmednagar early in Auranzgeb’s reign; his father too appears to have spent long years in the Deccan.
This absorbing book tells you a story of life and politics in Mughal India. Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim Khan-i-Khanan were authoritative men at the heart of the Mughal court. Their military feats, political acumen and their closeness to successive emperors brought them great rewards and desirable positions, yet they were prey to all the jealousies and betrayals, ideological and religious contests and controversies that the acquisition of power and the loss of it inevitably brings, no matter in which century or country.
Their personal tragedies still resonate each time an act of miscalculation, or misjudgement, or the outmanoeuvring by a rival, or the simple arbitrariness of power takes its toll.
This utterly dispassionate account is a must must read for every medieval history buff.
A resounding 5 on 5 !!
June 21, 2022
Absolutely brilliant book about a hidden gem of Indian history - Abdur Rahim Khan-e-khana. As a student, I had read Rahim's dohas but did not know much about his life, definitely not the fact that he was the son of Bairam Khan.
July 4, 2017
A superb book. I used to always wonder whose tomb it was, driving past it often on Delhi's Bada Pula elevated highway as it appeared on the right driving towards Khan market. Amazing story, well researched and written.
April 16, 2017
I picked this book of a bookshelf at the airport largely because there is a dearth of English literature on courtiers in Mughal India. I liked this book because of the two points it discussed. Firstly, that religious conflicts - conservatives vs liberals; Shia vs Sunnis; and Hindus vs Muslims - are in no way relatively new. Secondly, I grew up studying Rahim's dohas. But wasn't taught about his life, his non-literary achievements, and the role he played in the Mughal empire. This book filled that gap.
The book covers Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim's political and literary contributions. I was less interested in the latter and if I have to criticise the book, I wished it covered it to a lesser extent.
The book covers Bairam Khan and Abdur Rahim's political and literary contributions. I was less interested in the latter and if I have to criticise the book, I wished it covered it to a lesser extent.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews