Latest / Aurangzeb: The Emperor Who Expanded and Broke the Mughal Empire — Fexingo History / Aurangzeb and the Deccan Heartland: Beyond the Battlefields
Transcript
- Lucas: We've spent a lot of time on Aurangzeb's wars and his policies, but today I want to look at something a little different—what was actually happening culturally in the Deccan during his long reign there. Because while he was busy besieging forts and chasing Maratha guerrillas, the region had its own vibrant literary and artistic life. Lucas: And it's easy to forget that the Deccan wasn't just a battlefield. It had deep-rooted traditions—the Bahmani sultanates, the Vijayanagara Empire before them, the Qutb Shahis of Golconda, the Adil Shahis of Bijapur. Aurangzeb conquered these kingdoms, but he didn't erase their cultural footprint. In fact, his own court absorbed some of it. Luna: How did that work, though—did he actively promote culture, or was it more like he tolerated it? Lucas: That's a really good way to frame it. Aurangzeb was famously austere. He banned music at court, for example, as we talked about before. But he still patronized literature, especially Persian poetry. And he was a devoted calligrapher himself—we have records of him copying the Quran multiple times. Lucas: But what's less known is that his administration actually encouraged the use of Marathi in some official contexts. I mean, not in the highest court documents, but in local revenue records and correspondence. That's because the Mughal bureaucracy in the Deccan relied heavily on local Hindu scribes, and they naturally worked in Marathi. Luna: Interesting—so the empire's own paperwork helped keep Marathi alive. Lucas: Exactly. And Marathi literature was already flourishing before Aurangzeb. The bhakti poets—like Tukaram and Eknath—had written in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, but their works were still being copied and circulated in Aurangzeb's time. So the language had a living tradition, and the Mughal presence didn't stamp it out. Lucas: At the same time, there was this fascinating thing called Dakhni—the Deccani variant of Urdu—which was developing in the Deccan sultanates, especially Golconda and Bijapur. It was a language of poetry, of romance, of Sufi mysticism. And even after the conquest, poets kept writing in Dakhni, sometimes under Mughal patronage. Luna: So you had multiple languages thriving in the same region under one emperor. That seems really rich. Lucas: Absolutely. Take the example of the poet known as Raskhan. He was a Hindu who wrote in Persian and Hindi—and he was a devotee of Krishna. He actually lived in Aurangzeb's time, and while we don't have proof of direct contact, his work shows that religious boundaries weren't as rigid as we sometimes imagine. Lucas: And then there's the architectural side. Aurangzeb didn't build grand monuments like Shah Jahan, but he did leave his mark on the Deccan's landscape. Take the Bibi Ka Maqbara in Aurangabad—it's a mausoleum built by his son Azam Shah for Aurangzeb's wife, and it's often called the 'poor man's Taj Mahal' because it echoes that design but on a smaller scale. Luna: That's a striking comparison. Was it a deliberate imitation? Lucas: Probably a nod to his grandmother's famous monument, yes. But Aurangzeb himself promoted more utilitarian structures—caravanserais, mosques, and gardens, especially to support the Hajj route. He funded improvements to the port of Surat and even built new mosques in the Deccan, like the one at Khuldabad. Lucas: And Khuldabad is interesting because that's where he chose to be buried—next to a Sufi saint, not in a grand mausoleum. That says a lot about his personal humility, his piety. But it also made Khuldabad a place of pilgrimage, and that continued long after the empire was gone. Luna: So he really did shape the region's religious geography, not just its politics. Lucas: That's right. And one of the most remarkable things about Aurangzeb's personal faith is that he not only copied the Quran, but he also wrote letters to his sons about religious tolerance—well, maybe not tolerance in the modern sense, but he emphasized justice for all subjects, regardless of faith. Lucas: It's a paradox, isn't it? The same emperor who imposed jizya and demolished temples also wrote letters advising his governors to protect Hindu temples and not to interfere with their worship. We see this in the maasir i alamgiri, which records his orders. Luna: That contradiction is so hard to reconcile. Do you think he was being pragmatic, or genuinely conflicted? Lucas: I think it was pragmatic, but also sincere in a way. His legal framework, the fatawa e alamgiri, defined the rights of non-Muslims under Islamic law, and he tried to follow that consistently. So while he saw himself as a champion of Islam, he also believed in a certain order of justice that protected people's lives and property. Lucas: And that's why the Deccan is such a great lens to understand him. He spent the last twenty-five years of his life there, and he had to deal with the Marathas, the Deccan sultanates, and a diverse population that didn't always fit his neat categories. Luna: So what happened to all this cultural stuff after he died? Did it just collapse? Lucas: Not immediately. The Mughal governors who succeeded him in the Deccan continued many of his patterns, but the empire's center couldn't hold. The Marathas rose, and soon the Deccan was contested ground again. But the linguistic and literary traditions survived—Marathi continued to grow, and Dakhni evolved into modern Urdu. Lucas: One thing that often gets overlooked is that Aurangzeb's campaigns actually created a kind of cultural exchange. His armies marching up and down the Deccan brought North Indian soldiers, administrators, and artists into contact with Deccani culture, and vice versa. That had a lasting impact on music, food, even clothing. Luna: So even his destructive wars had this accidental cultural byproduct. Lucas: Yeah, that's a fair way to put it. And if you look at the city of Aurangabad, which he made his capital, it's still full of these reminders—the Bibi Ka Maqbara, the Panchakki, the Aurangabad caves that are Buddhist, and the city's gardens. It's a microcosm of the Deccan's layered history. Lucas: I think that's worth remembering when we talk about Aurangzeb. He's often reduced to a villain or a saint, but the reality is far messier and far more interesting. Luna: Absolutely. But before we wrap up, I want to go back to something you said earlier about his letters—those are such a valuable source. Are there many that survive? Lucas: Quite a few, actually. They were collected in his lifetime, and later compiled as the ruqaat i alamgiri, which was translated into English in the nineteenth century. They're fascinating because they show him dealing with everyday matters—revenue disputes, appointments, even family issues—and they reveal his personality: his austerity, his attention to detail, and his sense of duty. Luna: That sounds like a great primary source to dig into if I want to understand him better. Lucas: Definitely. And you know, those letters are also a reminder of why we do this show—we get to step into these lives and see them from the inside, even if it's just for a few minutes at a time. Lucas: If today's episode felt worth a coffee to you, the link to support us is buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It's a small thing that keeps this going, and we're grateful for it. Luna: Yeah, it really helps. And we love bringing these stories to you. Lucas: So, back to Aurangzeb. One last thought: his legacy in the Deccan isn't just about what he destroyed, but also about what he left behind—a complex cultural landscape that still bears his imprint, for better or worse. Lucas: And that's a good note to end on. Thanks for joining us, and we'll see you next time.