Latest / Aurangzeb: The Emperor Who Expanded and Broke the Mughal Empire — Fexingo History / Aurangzeb's Medical Reforms: The Emperor Who Treated His Enemies
Transcript
- Lucas: We've spent a lot of episodes looking at Aurangzeb as a warrior, a builder, an administrator, and even a bibliophile. But there's one side of him that almost never gets mentioned, and it surprised me when I first came across it. Luna: What's that? Lucas: Aurangzeb as a medical reformer. I mean, this is a man who spent the last twenty-five years of his life in a tent in the Deccan, fighting a grinding war. You'd think he'd have no time for anything else. But in between sieges and battles, he was issuing detailed farmans about how hospitals should be run, what doctors should be paid, and even trying to standardise medical training. Luna: So he was kind of like a Mughal public health official? Lucas: Exactly. The key source here is the maasir i alamgiri, the official court history written by Muhammad Saqi Mustaid Khan. It records that Aurangzeb established charitable hospitals, called shifakhanas, in major cities like Delhi, Agra, Lahore, and Ahmedabad. And these weren't just for the elite. The emperor specifically ordered that treatment be free for the poor, and that medicines be distributed without charge. Luna: That sounds pretty progressive for the 17th century. Lucas: It was. But we have to remember that this was also part of Islamic tradition. Building hospitals and providing free care was considered a pious act, a form of sadaqah jariyah — ongoing charity. The great medieval hospitals of Baghdad and Cairo were models. Aurangzeb was consciously following in that tradition, but he also put his own stamp on it. Luna: What kind of stamp? Lucas: He was very hands-on. There's a story from the maasir i alamgiri that while he was in the Deccan, he heard that some wounded enemy soldiers — Marathas, captured in battle — had been brought to his camp. He ordered that they be treated in the imperial hospital alongside his own men, and that they receive the same rations. That's a remarkable gesture from a ruler who's usually portrayed as ruthless. Luna: Wait, he treated enemy soldiers? That's not just charity, that's a strategic decision too, right? Lucas: Right. It could buy loyalty, or at least reduce resentment. But the sources suggest it was also genuine. Aurangzeb was known for his austerity and his attention to detail. He personally read reports from the shifakhanas and would inquire about patients. The European traveler Niccolao Manucci, who worked as a physician in the Mughal court, wrote about the emperor's interest in medicine. Manucci was not always flattering about Aurangzeb, but he did note that the emperor respected skilled doctors and rewarded them handsomely. Luna: So what kind of medicine were they practicing? Was it Unani? Lucas: Largely Unani, which is the Greco-Islamic medical tradition. The Mughal court had hakims — physicians trained in humoral theory, using herbal remedies, diet, and regimens. Aurangzeb's chief physician was a man named ruh ul amin, who wrote a famous pharmacopoeia called the tibb e ilahi. But there were also practitioners of Ayurveda, and the emperor seems to have been pragmatic — he didn't care what system you followed, as long as you got results. Luna: Was there any kind of regulation? Lucas: Surprisingly, yes. Aurangzeb issued farmans that attempted to standardise medical practice. For instance, he forbade hakims from treating patients unless they had a license from the chief physician. He also set fixed fees for consultations and medications, to prevent exploitation. And he ordered that apothecaries be inspected regularly to ensure their drugs weren't adulterated. These were quite advanced public health measures for the time. Luna: That's almost like a precursor to modern medical boards. Lucas: In a way. But there's a darker side too. Aurangzeb's medical policies were also part of his broader religious orthodoxy. He banned the use of wine in medicines — which was common in Unani practice — because alcohol was forbidden in Islam. And he discouraged certain treatments that he considered superstitious or un-Islamic, like amulets and charms. So his reforms were also about enforcing Islamic purity. Luna: That makes sense. He was always trying to align policy with faith. Lucas: Exactly. And then there's the smallpox question. There's evidence that variolation — an early form of inoculation — was practiced in India long before it reached Europe. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu famously introduced it from the Ottoman Empire in the 1720s, but travelers in India described similar techniques. Manucci mentions that in the Mughal Deccan, people would scratch the skin and apply smallpox scabs to induce a mild case and confer immunity. Did Aurangzeb know about this? Possibly. But there's no direct evidence that he promoted it. Luna: So even with all his reforms, he couldn't stop the epidemics that plagued his armies. Lucas: No, and that's the tragedy. The Deccan campaign was a health disaster. Cholera, plague, and malaria killed far more soldiers than enemy action. Aurangzeb himself was sick in his final years. He had gout, and possibly a urinary tract infection. He died at the age of 88, but he spent his last months in agony, writing letters to his sons that are heartbreakingly human. His medical reforms, for all their vision, couldn't save his empire or himself. Luna: It's a reminder that even the most powerful emperor is still flesh and blood. Lucas: Absolutely. And that brings me to something I wanted to mention. You know, this show is a labor of love. We spend hours digging into sources like the maasir i alamgiri, Manucci's memoirs, and obscure chronicles to bring you these stories. And it's only possible because of listeners like you. If you've been enjoying these conversations — and I know some of you have been with us since the early episodes — a couple of dollars a month on buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo genuinely makes a difference. It keeps us ad-free and lets us keep exploring these corners of history that don't always get attention. Luna: Yeah, we really appreciate it. Even a small contribution helps with research time and audio editing. Lucas: So thanks for considering. Anyway, back to medicine. One of the most fascinating aspects of Aurangzeb's approach is how he integrated charity with state-building. The shifakhanas were not just pious foundations; they were also instruments of imperial propaganda. When a poor man in Lahore got free treatment at an imperial hospital, he knew who to thank. It was a way of showing that the emperor cared, that the empire had a benevolent face. Luna: So it was political too, like everything else. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what makes it so interesting. Aurangzeb was a complex figure. He could be cruel, but he could also be compassionate. He could be rigid, but he could also be pragmatic. His medical reforms show a side of him that is often forgotten: the ruler who believed that a good emperor had a duty to care for his subjects' health, even the ones he was fighting. Luna: I wonder if that's part of why he's so controversial. People don't know how to reconcile the temple destroyer with the hospital builder. Lucas: Maybe. But I think history is full of people who contain multitudes. Aurangzeb was no exception. And if we want to understand his legacy — the good, the bad, and the complicated — we have to look at all of it, including the shifakhanas. Luna: Speaking of which, what happened to those hospitals after he died? Lucas: Good question. Like many Mughal institutions, they declined as the empire fragmented. The tax revenues that funded them were diverted by regional governors. By the time the British took over, most of the shifakhanas had disappeared or fallen into disrepair. But the idea didn't die. Some of the early British hospitals in India were built on the sites of Mughal ones. So in a way, Aurangzeb's medical legacy outlasted his empire, even if it's been largely forgotten. Luna: That's a fitting end. A quiet legacy, but a real one.