Muhammad bin Tughluq
Prince Jauna declared himself as the Sultan three days after his father’s death in February-March, 1325, under the title of Muhammad bin Tughluq. Forty days later he proceeded to Delhi and ascended the throne without any opposition in the old palace of the Sultans, amidst a profuse display of pageantry. Like ‘Ala-uddin, he lavishly distributed gold and silver coins among the populace and titles among the nobles.
For studying the history of Muhammad bin Tughluq’s reign we have besides the admirable history of a contemporary official, Zia-ud-din Barni, who wrote his work in the time of the Sultan’s successor,Firuz Shah, several other Persian works of his near contemporaries like the Ta’rikh-i-Firuz Shahi by Shams-i-Siraj ‘Afif, the Fatuhat-i-Firuz Shahi, an autobiographical memoir of Sultan Firuz Shah, the Munshat-i-Mahru of ‘Ain-ul-Mulk Multani, the Tughluqnamah of Amir Khusrav, and the Ta’rikh-i-Mubarak Shahi of Yahiya bin Ahmad Sarhindi, a comparatively late work, which contains much supplementary information. The work of the African traveller, Ibn Batutah, is also of great importance for the history of this period. He came to India in September, A.D. 1333, and was hospitably received by the Delhi Sultan, who appointed him Chief Qazi of Delhi, which office he continued to hold till he was sent as the Sultan’s ambassador to China in July, A.D. 1342. His account bears on the whole the stamp of impartiality and is remarkable for profuseness of details. The coins of Muhammad bin Tughluq are also of informative value.
Muhammad bin Tughluq is indeed an extraordinary personality, and to determine his place in history is a difficult task. Was he a genius or a lunatic? An idealist or a visionary? A bloodthirsty tyrant or a benevolent king? A heretic or a devout Mussalman? There is no doubt that he was one of the most learned and accomplished scholars of his time, for which he has been duly praised by Barni and others. Endowed with a keen intellect, a wonderful memory and a brilliant capacity of assimilating knowledge, he was proficient in different branches of learning like logic, philosophy, mathematics, astronomy and the physical sciences. A perfect master of composition and style, he was a brilliant calligraphist. He had a vast knowledge of Persian poetry and quoted Persian verses in his letters. The science of medicine was not unknown to him. He was also well skilled in dialectics, and scholars thought twice before opening any discussion with him on a subject in which he was well versed. An experienced general, he won many victories and lost few campaigns.
In his private life the Sultan was free from the prevailing vices of the age, and his habits were simple. Possessed of remarkable humility and generosity, he was lavish in distributing gifts and presents. Ibn Batutah, who has characterised him “as the most humble of men and one who is most inclined towards doing what is right and just”, writes that “the most prominent of his qualities is generosity “. Writers like Barni, Yahiya bin Ahmad Sarhindi, and, on their authority, Badauni, Nizam-ud-din Ahmad, and Ferishta, have wrongly charged the Sultan with irreligiousness and slaughter of pious and learned men, scribes and soldiers. Ibn Batatuh asserts that “he follows the principles of religion with devoutness and performs the prayers himself and punishes those who neglect them”. This is corroborated by two other contemporary writers, Shihab-ud-din Ahmad and Badr-i-Chach, and even Ferishta has to admit it. Muhammad bin Tughluq’s chief offence was that, probably inspired by the example of the Khaljis, “he ignored the canon law” as expounded by learned Doctors and based his political conduct on his own experience of the world.
But the Sultan lacked practical judgment and common sense, and, rather obsessed with his theoretical knowledge, indulged in lofty theories and visionary projects. His schemes, though sound in theory, and sometimes showing flashes of political insight, proved to be impracticable in actual operation, and ultimately brought disaster on his kingdom. This was due to certain grave defects in his character. Hasty and hot-tempered, he must have his own way and would brook no opposition. The growing sense of the failure of his policy made him charge the people with perversity and enhanced his severity. Foiled in his aims the Sultan lost the equilibrium of his mind. “Embarrassment followed embarrassment, and confusion became worse confounded.” These measures of the Sultan, as compared with his brighter qualities, have led some later writers to describe him as “a mixture of opposites”. But others again have pointed out that he was not really an “amazing compound of contradictions” and that the charges of “blood-thirstiness and madness’ were wrongly brought against him by the members of the clerical party, who always thwarted him in his policy. The Sultan’s defects might have been exaggerated, but it cannot be denied that he was devoid of the keen insight of a statesman and thus could not adapt his policy to the sentiments of the people. His daring innovations were not welcome, as these entailed great hardships. He was, in short, a poor judge of human nature, who failed to realise that administrative reforms, however beneficial these may be, cannot be easily imposed on the people against their will and that repression generally breeds discontent if the vital interests of the people are affected. Thus, as Mr Stanley Lane-Poole observes, “with the best intentions, excellent ideas, but no balance or patience, no sense of proportion, Muhammad Tughlak (sic) was a transcendent failure”.
Like Philip II of Spain, Muhammad bin Tughluq set himself assiduously to looking into the details of administration from the beginning of his reign. He first ordered the compilation of a register of the land revenue on the model of the register already kept, and the revenue department then worked smoothly. But soon he tried an ill-advised financial experiment in the Doab, the rich and fertile plain between the Ganges and the Jumna. He enhanced the rate of taxation and revived and created some additional abwabs (cesses). It is not possible to determine accurately the actual amount of additional assessment, owing to discrepancies and vagueness in the accounts of contemporary and later Muslim writers. Some modern writers suggest that the enhancement was not “fundamentally excessive” and did not exceed the maximum of 50 per cent that it had reached under ‘Ala-ud-din. They also hold that the Sultan’s object in levying extra taxes on the people of the Doab was not ” intended to be both a punitive measure (against the refractory inhabitants of the Doab) and a means of replenishing the treasury”, as Badauni and, in modern times, Sir Wolseley Haig have suggested, but to ” increase his military resources and to organise the administration on an efficient basis”. Whatever it might have been, there Is no doubt that the measure entailed great miseries on the people of the Doab, who had already been feeling the burden of heavy taxation since the time of the Khaljis, especially because it was introduced at a very inopportune moment when a terrible famine visited the land. The State did not relax its demands in view of the famine, but its officers exacted taxes with rigour; and it also took no immediate steps to mitigate the hardships of the toiling peasantry. The Sultan’s relief measures, like advancing loans to the agriculturists, sinking wells and “bringing the uncultivated lands under the plough by means of direct state management and financial support”, came too late. Agriculture suffered terribly and the impoverished peasantry of the Doab left their holdings and shifted to other places. In great fury, the Sultan adopted severe reprisals to bring back the reluctant ryots to their work, which produced disastrous consequences for the house of Tughluq.
