Latest / Aurangzeb: The Emperor Who Expanded and Broke the Mughal Empire — Fexingo History / Aurangzeb's Wine Ban: The Emperor Who Outlawed Drink
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Aurangzeb's military campaigns, his religious policies, his architectural projects. But today I want to look at something that might sound almost petty from a modern perspective — the emperor's war on wine. Luna: A war on wine? Like, prohibition? Lucas: Exactly. In 1668, Aurangzeb issued a sweeping ban on the production, sale, and consumption of wine, beer, and even bhang — the cannabis drink that was widely used in India. This wasn't just a symbolic gesture. He created a whole enforcement apparatus, with inspectors called muhtasibs patrolling markets and raiding private homes. And the penalties were harsh — fines, confiscation of property, even imprisonment. But here's the thing: it almost completely failed. Luna: Why would it fail? He was the emperor. Lucas: Because wine wasn't just a drink in Mughal India. It was a social lubricant, a status symbol, a medicine, and in many ways, a currency. Think about it: when the Portuguese or English traders wanted to curry favor with a Mughal noble, they didn't bring gold — they brought fine wines. Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, the French gem merchant who visited several times, wrote about how Persian and European wines were considered luxury goods, traded along the same routes as silks and spices. And the Mughal court itself had a long tradition of wine-drinking, going back to Babur, who wrote about it in his memoirs. Akbar actually had a wine house in Fatehpur Sikri, and Jahangir was famously fond of his cup. Luna: So Aurangzeb was trying to turn the tide against centuries of court culture. Lucas: Exactly right. And he was very sincere about it. The Maasir-i-Alamgiri — the official court history — records that the ban was part of his broader effort to enforce Sharia law. He also banned music, dancing, and even the painting of portraits. But the wine ban was the most concrete, the most difficult to enforce. Imagine you're a Mughal noble in the Deccan, far from the imperial capital. You've been drinking wine at feasts for decades. Your father drank, your grandfather drank. And now the emperor says you have to stop. What do you do? Luna: I'd probably keep drinking, but quietly. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what most nobles did. They moved their drinking underground. Instead of grand banquets, they held private gatherings in walled gardens or secret rooms. The wine was imported under false labels — 'medicinal vinegar' or 'rosewater.' Niccolao Manucci, the Venetian gunner who lived in Mughal India, tells a wonderful story about a nobleman who kept his wine cellar behind a false wall in his library. When the muhtasib came to inspect, he would show him his collection of religious texts and say, 'See? I am a pious man.' Lucas: But it wasn't just the nobles. The ban also targeted common people. Bhang was widely consumed by laborers and soldiers — it helped with pain, fatigue, and was part of religious rituals in some Hindu communities. Aurangzeb's ban on bhang was deeply unpopular. And it was also nearly impossible to police, because bhang grows wild in many parts of India. You can't exactly uproot every cannabis plant. Luna: So did the ban have any effect at all? Lucas: It did, but not the one Aurangzeb intended. It created a thriving black market. European merchants — especially the Portuguese and the English — saw an opportunity. They started smuggling wine into Mughal ports, bribing customs officials to look the other way. The Dutch East India Company records actually show an increase in wine imports to Surat after the ban. And the prices went up, of course, which meant that only the wealthy could afford it. So in a way, the ban made wine more exclusive, more of a status symbol than ever before. Lucas: And there was another unintended consequence: it damaged Aurangzeb's relationship with some of his most loyal nobles. Take Mirza Raja Jai Singh I — the famous Rajput general who served Aurangzeb faithfully in the Deccan campaigns. Jai Singh was known to enjoy his wine. And when the ban came down, he had a choice: obey the emperor and alienate his own Rajput warriors, who also drank, or disobey and risk imperial wrath. He chose to obey publicly but privately allowed his men to continue. That kind of subtle defiance was widespread. Luna: So Aurangzeb's piety was actually undermining his authority. Lucas: Precisely. The ban exposed the limits of imperial power. An emperor can command armies, can besiege cities, can collect taxes — but can he command a man to stop drinking? The answer, it turned out, was no. And Aurangzeb himself seems to have realized this. Later in his reign, the enforcement became more lax. By the 1680s, the muhtasibs were mostly just going through the motions. The ban was never officially repealed, but it was effectively dead. Luna: What about Aurangzeb himself? Did he drink? Lucas: According to all accounts, no. He was genuinely abstemious. He didn't drink wine, he didn't use bhang, he didn't even drink coffee — he thought it was too stimulating. He lived a very simple life, especially in his later years. He even sewed his own caps and copied the Quran by hand. So this wasn't hypocrisy. It was a sincere attempt to impose his own moral standards on a diverse empire. But that's exactly why it failed: he assumed that what was right for him was right for everyone. Lucas: There's also a fascinating episode from the Maasir-i-Alamgiri about a wine merchant in Delhi who was caught selling Persian wine. The muhtasib brought him before the emperor, and the merchant argued that wine was allowed for Christians and Jews under Islamic law — they were 'People of the Book' and could drink for religious purposes. Aurangzeb actually considered this argument seriously, but ultimately ruled that selling to Muslims was still forbidden. So the merchant's shop was sealed, but he wasn't executed or anything. There was a certain pragmatism there, even in his zeal. Luna: It's interesting that he considered the argument at all. Shows he wasn't just a dogmatic fanatic. Lucas: Right. And that's the complexity of Aurangzeb. He was a devout Muslim who wanted to create an Islamic state, but he was also a practical ruler who had to govern a Hindu-majority empire. The wine ban shows that tension very clearly. On one hand, the ban was a statement of his piety. On the other, the failure of the ban shows that even an emperor as powerful as Aurangzeb couldn't simply decree a cultural change. Lucas: And if you look at the long-term effects, the ban actually contributed to the growth of a more discreet, private drinking culture in Mughal India. The great poetic tradition of sharaab — wine — in Urdu and Persian poetry actually flourished during this period, precisely because it became a symbol of rebellion and secret pleasure. The poets wrote about wine as a metaphor for divine love, but they were also writing about real wine, drunk in secret gardens. So in a strange way, Aurangzeb's ban helped create a whole new literary genre. Luna: So his prohibition backfired culturally as well. Lucas: Absolutely. And it's a lesson that rulers throughout history have had to learn again and again: you can't legislate morality, especially when the morality you're imposing isn't shared by the majority. Aurangzeb's wine ban is a perfect microcosm of his entire reign — a sincere, devout effort to create a more Islamic empire, but one that ultimately failed because it tried to bend a diverse, complex society to the will of a single man. Luna: Makes you wonder what other 'small' policies of his had big unintended consequences. Lucas: That's a great question for another episode. But for now, I think the wine ban gives us a very human window into Aurangzeb — not just as a conqueror or a tyrant, but as a man trying, and failing, to control the people around him in the most intimate way possible: what they put into their own bodies.