Babur by P. Lankesh

P. Lankesh Series

Babur

May I present the absolute uniqueness of this man for your kind perusal. All those aspiring biographers or autobiographers should ponder over why his 90- page autobiography can be so good.  The first Mughal King Babur wrote it.

The Baburi mosque that he built in Ayodhya is in the news now. Everyone’s mind seems to be filled with thoughts of war. Babur  was so busy war –monging that all his life was spent fighting and he could not celebrate twoRamzan festivals in one place.

Babur Nama or Dairy of the Lord of Delhi, is the book that I read when I was in Pre university  college(intermediate studies ). I laid my hands on the book again recently and it overawed me with all its glory.

Babur came from a clan of rulers. At a young age, he built an army and fought wars to protect his homeland and tried to conquer neighbouring territories. His repeated attempts to defeat the rulers of Samar Khand failed. He finally ended up taking over Kabul and reigning over the region.

He grows up to be a24 year old fighter, poet, writer who has immense love of life and remains endlessly curious. He gets an invitation from the neighbouring dynasty of Heerut. Reigning monarch Hussein Shah has died and his sons, Chota Mirza and Bada Mirza have become joint Kings of the Kingdom. Babur chides them as `The first joint Kings of any country in the world- dumb wits’.

But Heerut, the city of Hussein Shah, the father of the joint Kings, was known for harbouring poets and pundits. ``If you stretch your legs, you are likely to kick a poet,’’ was a saying there. Even Hussein Shah was a poet. ``But his enthusiasm was more than talent: he was full of greed, but not enough intellect! ``All poems seemed the same, a bit tasteless…..’’, describes Babur.

Babur goes to Heerut and becomes a guest of Chote Mirza and Bade Mirza. The Mirzas were lazy bones leading a lavish life. They take him to a liquor fest one evening. Babur has never drunk; but has immense curiosity about it. He does not want to start with the Mirzas. That would affect his dignity. This is how he describes the evening thus:

``One day, the Mirzas invited me to a garden. A lot of people had already gathered there in a beautiful gazebo. They all seemed so easily drunk. Some had already lost balance and begun dancing like crazy. Mirzas seemed to be planning to pull me into their group. I had not committed such a sin till then. I had never enjoyed a drink. I decided to take the plunge even at the slightest hint from them asking me to join in. How long should you stay bound to rituals and suffer? I had never got a chance in my boyhood. But then, I did not know what to do. Rituals seemed to block my curiosity. That day, in that beautiful gazebo, in that romantic setting, in the company of those high on liquor, I decided to break my vow…. But then, in a flash, I felt. What a fool I was making myself of ! My mind wavered. I shared my anxiety with others. They agreed. ``It would be an insult to start here!,’’ they said. Not one supported me. Someone went and told my follower Quasim Baig that my grip on my mind was loosening. He succeeded in preaching the Mirzas about something and stopping the supply of liquor to the party!

The guy who thus felt happy and sad of loosing a chance to get drunk after suffering ambiguity, later learnt to drink. Babur, the poet, the one obsessed with life, experienced all the joys of drinking. Under the influence of alcohol, he wrote poetry, and soaked in the beauty of nature. One evening, he set out from his palace in Kabul, to have a drink. But after a while, he sent away his body guard: ``Alone, I crossed the Mulla Sab bridge and entered the house of Tardi Baig, who lived in an alley behind the downtown market. He came running when he saw me. Knowing he was a man of modest means, I handed him a bag of 100 silver coins and sent him away to fetch wine. I had been wishing to unwind and have a nice drink secretly, without being bound to rules. I decided to stay with him that night. Tardi Baig and drank so much that we fell on each other, swaying. By then, the news of Tardi Baig having brought wine got leaked and several of his friends dropped in, without knowing I was there. We got together and drank’’.

By then, we learnt that Hulhan Aneega, a girl who drank, lived in the neighbourhood. Babur had never seen a girl drink. ``Let her come too….,’’ he said. But by the time she came….. ``Hulhan Aneega slowly came into my room. ``I began thinking how do I get away from this devil?, and acted like I had passed off. As if I had lost my senses. Then, she looked around and went off.

In the morning when I returned to the Palace I saw a beautiful mini apple tree in the Bad Shahi Bag. It was winter and the leaves had fallen down. But a few other leaves were still clinging to their mother, unable to let go, and shivering in the cold winds. Each branch just five or six leaves! All yellow! No painter could have recreated the magic of that tree on canvas.

This is just one face of Babur. But fighting wars and winning became his destiny, he had to live as a man of virtue and intelligence, who was both a wise man and a technocrat. When ever he won a war, Babur would look at the people of the land. Their built, health, beauty and soil health. He would also study the nature, flowers, fruits, animals and their poets. He would levy and collect taxes only after considering all such factors. That was one reason why the people loved Babur.

But Babur knew the limits to this love.

Once, an army commander very close to Babur ignoring him. He began harassing the people by having drums beaten before his house. For some time, he let him be. When he felt the situation went out of hand, he spoke to him. The defiant commander said :`` You had promised to pardon my nine mistakes’’. Babur said: ``They have already been 11 now’’. The commanders’ face turned pale. ``I will banish you to Hindustan’’, said Babur and kicked him away. But the commander got killed by dacoits on the way.

Babur observed a strange behaviour among his followers after the conquest of Delhi. A lot of his friends and soldiers wanted to go back once they had plundered Hindustan. But Babur had fallen in love with Hindustan. Half his heart was still with Kabul- the springs, water melons, and grapes wanted him to come back. The rest was reluctant to leave the newly acquired country. The simple virtues of the people of Hindustan, the dancing peacocks, mangoes, and the like, forced him to stay back. He decided to stay on and pleaded with his soldiers to stay with him. Though it seemed that they had accepted the idea, they  were dreaming of Kabul and Ghazni. Babur says: `` Some did not stay. They went away. Neither did Quaza Kalal like Hindustan. He wrote a couplet on his wall before leaving

``Once I cross the Indus and head that way

Smear ink on my face if I come back this way’’

I was annoyed seeing this. I felt insulted as I was still on this side of the Indus. I wrote a poem on the spot and sent it to him

``Oh Babur, reign over the Kingdom to the east of Indus

And salute the Lord, Salute!

Oh Quaza, you crave for a cold wind in that sweltering heat

And shiver in Ghazni, shiver’’

Any other King would have punished Quaza. Babur was a poet. He understood the limitations and possibilities of life. Babur the valiant soldier, was an unparalleled commander too. With just a thousand soldiers, he defeated the Sultans of Delhi who fought him with lakhs of troopers. His strategies were creating formations of cannons and swords in Rumi style. His dogged determination, common sense and simplicity helped him.

Several instances in the autobiography illustrate Babur’s practical wisdom and knowledge of the self. Babur had fought several villains before coming to Hindustan and survived.

Among them was Tambala, the notorious. Tambala can not stand Babur and wants to kill him. He invites him to a duel. Babur could not refuse as he had already earned fame as a brave fighter. The duel begins between the two fighters on horseback. At the first moment, Tambala’s sword hit Babur badly. ``I was not wounded as I had a metal helmet. But my head began spinning. I decided to honour the sword he had in his hand. You never know what fate has in store. I was so angry I had no idea what to do. I backed off with my horse, crossed a stream and saved myself from the danger…..,’’ says Babur

Babur, who truthfully relates how he cheated death like a coward, is also candid about the events leading to the blood bath with the army of Rana Sanga (Maharana Sangram Singh) in Chittor.

Babur, who is drunk the whole night before the attack, has a very small army with him. He has to face the fierce forces of Rana Sanga. Mohammad Sharif, an astrologer, has foretold that there is no chance of winning. Everyone, including his soldiers, is frightened.

Babur is going around the tents in the wee hours and an inner voice speaks to him. Dejection overtakes him and decides to quit drinking. He comes back to his tent and throws out the bottles. He speaks to the soldiers and inspires him. Wins the war. Ends up ridiculing the astrologer.

Though Babur had decided to stop drinking at 40, could not do so. Now he has stopped. Meanwhile, he has sent his son Humayun to fight and capture enemies in Afghanistan. But Humayun was soft, unlike his father who was mixture of softness, diligence, and boldness. ``I long to see you” Humayun writes to Baburand describes the happenings in Afghanistan. Babur sends him advice. Its okay that you wrote me, as per my orders. But before sending it, you should have read it again. Your letter is difficult to read and is difficult to understand at places. Can prose be so obscure and cryptic? Your script is not unclear. There are not many mistakes in joining letters. But your opinion is lost in wordplay as your language is not simple. You try to pull and extend each idea and it becomes meaningless. Avoid this in future. Use simple, clear, and plain language.

Babur knew that nothing in life is trivial. He also knew nothing is so important enough to spend all his attention on it. He writes about simple, mundane things like canals, road side trees, tiny flowers, parrots that speak, blind faith of the foolish, discrimination suffered by those who trust, and the like.

His writing is so funny, soothing and truthful. He does not hide his faults and reveals his conscience.

Humayun invites him to Kabul. Babur, who has quit drinking after the war with Rana Sanga, is reminded of the wines of Kabul. He lusts after alcohol. The craving for a drink has pestered me for two years now. I have cursed myself for the vow I took. I have cried of agony. I have been wanting to come to Kabul and to the Ghazni region. Let that be. Here, I am getting a hold on things and they are slowly settling down. Once that happens, I will come over. How can anyone forget the sights of Kabul? Since I have vowed not to drink, I can at least feel the pleasure by eating grapes or water melons, he writes.

To know the real Babur, we should know his heroism, large heartedness, and humanity. He is returning from Heerut where he met the Mirzas.

Biting cold threatens to kill Babur and his troops. But they are saved from death and are sheltered in a cave. He stands outside, as he wants to make way for his soldiers in the cave. He is shivering… he is planning to attack Hindustan, a rich country. He knows that people of Hindustan are trading with Ghazni and Kabul. One day his soldiers capture a trader and loot him. An angry Babur punishes them. ``Don’t wish for leftovers’’, he tells them and returns the trader’s goods. 

He describes the fruits of Kabul- `` It is a colourful fruit basket. Grapes, pomegranates, apples, almonds, orange, and others in abundance. Locals grow a longish grape here. Its juice gives you a high….. But then all this what I have heard from others. Never experienced.

My writing follows what I heard about them. It is like that saying- `` One who never drank, danced about the joys of drinking’’.

Babur never took leave. He was so disciplined that he had time for a leisurely stroll, testing cannons, planning a garden, writing poetry and talking to commoners. He was 47 when he died. (1483-1530 AD). There is no need to repeat the story where he gave an advice of a life time to his beloved son Humayun.

Babur’s autobiography can teach many lessons to wannabe biographers and autobiographers. A record of our lives should mean a record of our truthful and objective analysis of ourselves as human beings. All through his book about his life as a leader of the commoners of Ghazni and of a generation, Babur sees himself as a fellow human being. He does not forget his desires, pains or disappointments. He does not ignore the meaninglessness of life and its ironies and contradictions.

February 24, 1991.

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