Latest / Aurangzeb: The Emperor Who Expanded and Broke the Mughal Empire — Fexingo History / Aurangzeb's Last Will: The Emperor Who Died Writing Letters
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- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Aurangzeb the emperor — his wars, his policies, his architecture. But I want to look at something more personal today: his final years, and specifically the letters and the will he wrote as he was dying. Luna: He wrote a will? I didn't know that. Lucas: He did. And it's remarkable because it reveals a side of him we rarely see. You know, for a man who spent nearly fifty years on the throne, who expanded the Mughal Empire to its largest extent, his last words are full of regret and humility. It is quite moving, actually. Luna: What did he say? Lucas: Well, before we get into the details, I should mention something quick. You know, this show is entirely listener-supported — no ads, no sponsors. A handful of our listeners chip in monthly through buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo, and that's literally what makes it possible for us to keep producing these deep dives. So if you find value in what we do, that's the place. Luna: Yeah, it's a small community that really cares about history. And we're grateful. Lucas: Absolutely. So, back to Aurangzeb's final days. He died in 1707 at the age of 88, after nearly 50 years of rule. He was in the Deccan, still campaigning against the Marathas, still living in a tent. He had outlived almost all his contemporaries. And on his deathbed, he dictated a series of letters and a will that were collected in the ruqaat i alamgiri, his book of letters. Luna: So he was still writing even at the very end. Lucas: Yes, and he wrote a lot. In his letters to his sons, especially Bahadur Shah, he didn't give strategic advice about how to win battles or administer the empire. Instead, he wrote about piety, about the emptiness of worldly ambition. In one letter, he says, 'I came alone and I go alone. I have not done well by the kingdom or by myself.' It is a striking admission from a man who had spent his life consolidating power. Luna: That sounds almost like a confession. Lucas: It really does. And then his will contains very specific instructions about his burial. He ordered that his body be washed only with water, no perfumes, and that it be wrapped in a simple white cloth — not the fine silks of an emperor. He asked to be buried in an open grave, without a dome or a roof, at Khuldabad, near the shrine of the Sufi saint Burhanuddin Gharib. He even wrote that the earth should be level with the ground, with no marker, so that it would be indistinguishable from the soil around it. He wanted to be, as he put it, 'a humble follower of the saints.' Luna: Wow. So he wanted to be buried like a commoner, not an emperor. Lucas: Exactly. He even left instructions about his possessions. He had saved about 12,000 rupees from his personal allowance — a tiny sum for an emperor — and he ordered that it be distributed to the poor. He also freed his slaves. And he asked his sons to forgive each other and not fight over the throne. Of course, we know that within hours of his death, Bahadur Shah and his brothers were already at each other's throats. The succession struggle began almost immediately. Luna: So his final wishes were basically ignored. Lucas: Mostly, yes. His grave at Khuldabad does have a small enclosure now, but it's still remarkably simple compared to other Mughal tombs. There's no grand marble, no inlay work. It's just a simple grave under an open sky. And that was exactly what he wanted. Luna: But why Khuldabad? That's in the Deccan, far from Delhi or Agra. Lucas: That's a good question. Khuldabad, which means 'abode of eternity,' is a small town near Aurangabad. It's the burial place of several Sufi saints, including Burhanuddin Gharib, who was a disciple of the famous Chishti saint Moinuddin Chishti. Aurangzeb had a deep reverence for these saints. He visited their shrines frequently, and he even wrote that he hoped their blessing would intercede for him on Judgment Day. By choosing to be buried there, he was aligning himself with their spiritual legacy, not the political legacy of his ancestors. Luna: It's like he wanted to be remembered as a Sufi, not a Mughal. Lucas: In a way, yes. But there's also a practical side. He had spent the last 25 years of his life in the Deccan. He hated the north, the cold, the politics of Delhi. He felt that his mission was in the south, fighting the Marathas and consolidating the empire. So it makes sense that he wanted to stay there, even in death. Luna: What about his letters to his daughter, Zeb-un-Nisa? I've heard she was his favorite. Lucas: Yes, she was. Aurangzeb wrote to her often, and those letters are some of the most personal in the ruqaat i alamgiri. In one, he tells her about a dream he had where the Prophet appeared and rebuked him for his harshness. He writes, 'I woke up sweating and began to cry. I have made many mistakes, and I fear the judgment.' It is a very vulnerable moment from a man who usually projected absolute authority. Luna: So he was tormented by doubt even as emperor. Lucas: It seems so. And this is the same man who ordered the execution of Sambhaji, who crushed the Maratha resistance, who imposed jizya and destroyed temples. The contrast is jarring. Some historians argue that these letters show a genuine spiritual crisis in his old age, that he began to question the morality of his own actions. Others say it's just a performance, a way to manage his legacy. We just don't know. Luna: But even if it's a performance, it's a remarkable one. Lucas: Absolutely. And it's worth noting that he didn't just write to his family. He also corresponded with scholars and Sufi saints across the empire. He asked them to pray for him and to give him religious advice. In one letter to a scholar in Delhi, he asks, 'What is the state of my soul? Have I done enough to earn salvation?' It is the question of a man who knows his time is short. Luna: Do we know how his sons responded to his letters? Lucas: Bahadur Shah wrote back, but his letters are more formal. He reassures his father that he will follow his advice, but we know he didn't. Within a year of Aurangzeb's death, Bahadur Shah was busy fighting his brothers and trying to secure the throne. The empire that Aurangzeb had held together by sheer will began to fracture almost immediately. Luna: So in a way, his death marked the beginning of the end for the Mughal Empire. Lucas: Yes. The Deccan campaigns had drained the treasury, the Marathas were rising, and the succession wars weakened central authority. Aurangzeb's will was a last attempt to set things right, but it was too late. Even his own sons didn't listen. Luna: It makes you wonder what would have happened if they had. Lucas: That's the big question. But we do have his letters, and they give us a glimpse into the mind of an emperor who, at the end of his life, seemed to realize that all his conquests meant nothing. He wrote to his son Azam, 'Do not trust in the fleeting world. It is a place of sorrow. The only true home is the next.' It's a far cry from the ambitious prince who fought his brothers for the throne. Luna: It almost sounds like he was trying to warn them against repeating his mistakes. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what makes these letters so powerful. They are not just historical documents; they are a human document. A dying man, looking back on a life of power and bloodshed, and finding it wanting. Luna: I never thought I'd feel sympathy for Aurangzeb, but these letters... they make him seem almost human. Lucas: That's the thing about history. When you look closely enough, even the most feared figures have their moments of vulnerability. And Aurangzeb's final letters are a reminder that behind the titles and the armies, there was a person struggling with the same questions we all face. Luna: What happened to his grave in Khuldabad after he died? Lucas: It was kept simple for a while, but over time, a small enclosure was built. Even today, it is unpretentious compared to the Taj Mahal or Humayun's Tomb. It's made of plain stone, with no inscriptions except for a small verse from the Quran. The irony is that a man who built so many grand mosques and tombs for others chose this for himself. Luna: It's like he wanted his final statement to be humility. Lucas: Perhaps. Or perhaps he genuinely believed that he had failed. In his will, he wrote, 'I have committed many sins, and I have no good deeds to present. I rely only on the mercy of God.' That is a heavy thing for an emperor to say. Luna: It's also a powerful thing to leave behind. Lucas: It is. And it's a side of Aurangzeb that we often overlook. We focus on his policies, his wars, his religious zeal. But at the end, he was just a man, afraid of what comes next. Luna: Do you think his letters were meant to be read by others, or were they private? Lucas: That's a good question. Some were clearly personal, addressed to specific people. But the fact that they were collected and preserved suggests that he or his courtiers saw them as part of his legacy. The ruqaat i alamgiri was compiled after his death, so it's possible that these were meant to be read by future generations. But the emotion in them feels genuine. Luna: I'd like to read some of them one day. Lucas: There are English translations available. They are not easy reading — the language is formal and full of religious references — but the heart of them is clear. And I think they give us a more complete picture of Aurangzeb than any history book could. Luna: So what's the takeaway from his final letters and will? Lucas: For me, it's that even the most powerful people are confronted with the same existential questions. Aurangzeb spent his life seeking power, but at the end, he realized it was empty. He tried to leave a message for his sons, but they didn't listen. And his empire crumbled. There's a lesson there, I think, about the limits of ambition. Luna: And about the importance of being remembered for who you really were. Lucas: Exactly. And maybe that's why his simple grave at Khuldabad is more fitting than any mausoleum. It reminds us that under all the titles and conquests, he was just a mortal, trying to find his way.