Latest / Aurangzeb: The Emperor Who Expanded and Broke the Mughal Empire — Fexingo History / Aurangzeb's Fatwa on Music: Silencing the Court Musicians
Transcript
- Lucas: So, we've talked a lot about Aurangzeb's wars, his taxes, his legal code. But there's one aspect of his reign that really shows how his personal piety reshaped the empire — his attitude toward music. Luna: I've read he banned music at court. Is that true? Lucas: It is. Around 1668, about a decade into his reign, Aurangzeb issued a farman effectively banning music from the imperial court. He dismissed the court musicians, stopped patronizing them, and even ordered the removal of musical instruments from the palace. The maasir i alamgiri records that he said music 'turns the mind away from God.' Luna: That must have been a huge shift from Shah Jahan's court. Lucas: Enormous. Under Shah Jahan, music was everywhere. His court hosted legendary musicians like Miyan Tansen's descendants. The famous singer Ramdas and the instrumentalist Jagannath were regulars. When Aurangzeb cut that off, it wasn't just a matter of taste — it was a policy statement. He was deliberately distancing himself from what he saw as the decadence of his predecessors. Lucas: But the ban wasn't total. Aurangzeb made exceptions for certain types of music. He allowed martial music — drums and trumpets for military purposes — and he tolerated the Qawwali, the Sufi devotional music. So it was really the courtly, secular music that got the axe. Luna: What happened to all those musicians? Lucas: Many of them lost their livelihoods. Some left the court and sought patronage from provincial nobles or regional kingdoms. The Deccan sultanates, especially Golconda and Bijapur, had thriving musical traditions and welcomed them. Others just faded into obscurity. The French gem merchant Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, who visited India a few times, noted that the musicians were 'reduced to great poverty.' Lucas: There's also a famous story about Prince Akbar, Aurangzeb's son, who rebelled against him. According to Niccolao Manucci, an Italian traveler who served in the Mughal army, Prince Akbar used musicians as spies. He sent them into the imperial camp disguised as wandering minstrels to gather intelligence. It's a great irony — the very thing his father suppressed became a tool of rebellion. Luna: So music didn't just disappear, it went underground, or became political. Lucas: Exactly. And it's important to note that Aurangzeb's ban was never fully enforced across the empire. Outside the court, music continued to flourish in temples, Sufi shrines, and private homes. The tabla, which became a central instrument in Hindustani classical music, actually developed during this period — partly because it was portable and could be played discreetly. So in a way, the ban may have inadvertently spurred innovation. Luna: That's fascinating — a silver lining. Lucas: It's a reminder that cultural policies don't always work as intended. Aurangzeb wanted to purify the court, but he couldn't control what happened in the rest of society. And his own family wasn't unified on this. His daughter Zeb-un-Nisa was a poet and patron of the arts, and she kept musicians in her own household. So even within the palace, the ban was porous. Lucas: Now, this might sound like a tangent, but it actually ties into something we've discussed before — the economics of running the show. You know, we do this podcast without ads, and that's only possible because a handful of listeners chip in through buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It's not a huge number, but it genuinely covers the costs of research and hosting. And it keeps us free for everyone. Luna: Yeah, it's a small but vital group. And we really appreciate it. Lucas: Anyway, back to Aurangzeb. The ban on music is one of those policies that tells you a lot about his character. He was sincere in his faith, but he was also willing to sacrifice cultural richness for ideological consistency. And that tension — between piety and pragmatism — runs through his entire reign. Luna: So what happened to music after Aurangzeb died? Lucas: It came back, slowly. His successors, especially Bahadur Shah, were more lenient. By the time of Muhammad Shah in the early 18th century, the court was once again a center of music and dance. But the old glory of Shah Jahan's court never fully returned. The empire itself was in decline, and the patronage system that sustained classical music was fractured. Still, the traditions survived, and they evolved into the Hindustani classical music we know today. Luna: So in a way, Aurangzeb's ban didn't kill music — it just changed its course. Lucas: Exactly. And that's a theme we see again and again in history — attempts to suppress something often end up transforming it. Music found new patrons, new forms, and new purposes. It's a story of resilience.