Shivaji The Grand Rebel

by Dennis Kincaid

A Chinese visitor of the seventh century thus described them: – “Their manners are simple and honest. They are proud and reserved. If any one is kind to them, he can be sure of their gratitude, but if any one injures them they will take their revenge. They will risk their lives to wipe out dishonour. If any one in distress appeals to them, they will lay aside all thought of self in their anxiety to help. Even if they have an insult to avenge, they never fail to warn their enemy. In battle, if they pursue the fugitives they always spare all who surrender…. These men love study and there are many heretics among them.”

1290 saw the first considerable Marathi work, a translation of the sacred Gita. Exactly four years later the Afghan invasion of the Maratha country began. By 1313 the conquest was complete and the Marathas had to wait for three and a half centuries before Shivaji restored to them their independence.

The family of Shivaji claimed a double descent both from King Porus, and from the Ranas of Udaipur. Porus, it will be remembered, was the Indian King who opposed Alexander.

The claim of relationship with the House of Udaipur has, on the other hand, not been contested except by enemies of Shivaji and appears to have been accepted by contemporaries. The family name of Bhosle is said to be derived from the fief of Bhosavat in Udaipur, whence a prince named Sajan-sing fled after the first Mussulman conquest of Udaipur to seek his fortune as a soldier of fortune in the south.

It is not uncommon for a strong new power to rise on the frontier districts between two large but decrepit states. An obvious instance is the sudden emergence of the Ottomans on the border country between the Byzantine Empire and the Seljuk emirates. Nor is it uncommon for the large states to be ruined, less by any positive superiority of the new power rising between them than by their mutually destructive animosity. The success of the Arabs against both Persian and Roman Empires is a case in point. So it is necessary to emphasise the geographical situation of Shivaji’s family estates on the very borders of both Bijapur and the Mogul dominions – for this strip of land, given to Shivaji’s grandfather by a Muhammadan prince in a gesture reminiscent of the Arabian Nights, was in fact to prove the core of a new empire.

He had caused an orchard to be planted on Shivaji’s estate and he warned the servants that any one who stole fruit from the trees would be punished. One day he himself was standing in the orchard at noon; he was thirsty and without thinking he stretched out his hand and picked a ripe mango which swung tantalisingly before him. A moment later he remembered the warning he had addressed to the servants. He fell into an agony of remorse, imagining that people would say that he was as ready to see that other people kept their hands off his master’s property as he was to use it for his own purposes. He called for a sword and prepared to hack off the offending hand. The servants crowded round him and, weeping, tried to dissuade him from so extravagant a self-punishment. Even though he laid his sword aside, he wore hereafter a coat without a sleeve for his right arm.

But one must dismiss all such preconceptions and realise that three hundred years ago Poona was a small village, known only for its temples and the orthodoxy of their priests. At the time of Shivaji’s return from Bijapur even these temples were in ruins. The village had several times been looted and was now entirely deserted, save by a few fisherfolk who lived along the River Muta. When the last Muhammadan force had passed that way, the commander caused all the houses and walls to be pulled down, and with a final gesture of resentful contempt, ordered a team of asses to be harnessed to a plough and driven over the foundations. Then, solemnly cursing the site of the Hindu town, he planted an iron rod in the earth as a symbol of his malediction.

His arms were unusually long. He let his beard and moustache grow, and from under his turban a lock of curled hair hung down one side of his face. His eyes were very fine, and contrasted in their soft and melancholy beauty with the curved aquiline nose. The Frenchman, Thevenot, wrote of him: “Ce rajah est petit et bazane, avec des yeux vifs qui marquent beaucoup d’esprit.” The English chaplain of Bombay described him as “erect, and of an excellent proportion, active in exercise, and whenever he speaks he seems to smile. He has a quick and piercing eye.”

A day or two later Shivaji himself arrived in Kalyan. The Arab governor’s daughter-in-law was still in the palace. She was brought before Shivaji. She was famous for her great beauty. Shivaji rose at her entrance. Smiling, he said, “Ah, if only my mother had been half as beautiful as you, I should not be the ugly little fellow that I am.” Then he ordered that ceremonial presents should be given to her, and had her sent with a guard of honour to her relatives. To the dispossessed governor Shivaji behaved with equal chivalry. He released him and sent him with an escort to Bijapur.

Shivaji wrote constantly to Ramdas, asking his advice on matters of government, administration and policy. At the height of his power he visited Ramdas and, bowing before him, gave him a document which was a deed bestowing on the saint all his kingdom. Ramdas said, “I accept the gift on behalf of God. Take back your kingdom and rule in His name. Govern, not as an unfettered autocrat, but humbly as the deputy of Heaven.”

In spite of the character of a crusade which Ramdas’s blessings gave to Shivaji’s long struggle, it is remarkable how little religious animosity or intolerance Shivaji displayed. His kindness to Catholic priests is an agreeable contrast to the proscriptions of the Hindu priesthood in the (largely Marathi-speaking) Indian territories of the Portuguese. Even his enemies remarked on his extreme respect for Mussulman priests, for mosques and for the Koran. The Muslim historian Khafi Khan, who cannot mention Shivaji in his chronicle without adding epithets of vulgar abuse, neverthe-less acknowledges that Shivaji never entered a conquered town without taking measures to safeguard the mosques from damage; whenever a Koran came into his possession he treated it with the same respect as if it had been one of the sacred works of his own faith; and that whenever his men captured Mussulman ladies they were brought to Shivaji, who looked after them as if they were his wards till he could return them to their relations. It is perhaps worth remembering that this century in Europe was noteworthy for the activities of Tilly in Germany and of Cromwell in Ireland.

Historians hostile to Shivaji have seized on this incident to accuse Shivaji of premeditated assassination. There is no proof of this. Shivaji certainly intended to annex More’s dominions, and he could have done this without resorting to an unnecessary act of treachery; and few men were less vindictive than Shivaji. Probably the best refutation of this charge is to be found in the subsequent attitude of More’s steward, Baji Prabhu. This man, noted for his integrity, surrendered to Shivaji, and became his devoted adherent,

Baji had only a few hundred hillmen to defend the pass with. He made them pile up a barricade of stones across the mouth of the defile. Behind this they awaited the Muhammadan attack. All day the heavy cavalry of Bijapur dashed against the band of hillmen who, falling one by one, never retreated by one step from the position Shivaji had ordered them to hold. Their commander, Baji, was desperately wounded; but even as he lay in agony he cried out continual encouragement to his men. Towards evening when there seemed no hope of further resistance, they heard the distant boom of a gun that told them Shivaji was safe. Bearing their dying commander on a rude stretcher, the Marathas fell back from the defile, not even molested in their retreat by the exhausted enemy. The defence of Rangana has become legendary in Western India. The action is remarkable as an example of the spirit which Shivaji’s leadership had infused into his followers. A band of despised hillmen, of Hindus hitherto resigned to submission, had stood up to the attack of vastly superior forces in the manner of Spartiates.

Unlike the soldiers of the Mogul armies they were subject to severe discipline, disobedience often entailing death. No women were allowed into the camp, nor was the wife or mistress of any soldier permitted to follow the armies on campaign. This wholesome provision, unprecedented in that age in Asia or (save for the New Model) in Europe, gave to Shivaji’s forces a mobility hitherto unknown in Indian warfare.

Speed was the main quality desired of the Maratha horsemen.

Of all his fortresses it was on Raigad, his capital, that Shivaji expended the most anxious care; desiring to make it impregnable. But when at last he flattered himself that the fortification was complete and that no human being could enter or leave the town except by the narrow gates of the single approach, a peasant woman showed him that his satisfaction was premature. She was called Hirakani and she used to visit Raigad daily to sell milk to the garrison. She lived in a village below the towering walls and she would return home at nightfall. But one evening she lingered later than usual in the fortress and when she reached the gates she found them closed. In spite of her entreaties the sentries refused to let her out. At home she had a young child and the thought of leaving him alone and hungry all night nerved her to a feat of desperate courage. In the dark she climbed down the sheer face of the walls that Shivaji’s practised eye had pronounced unscalable; and she reached home safely. When Shivaji heard of this he sent for the woman and rewarded her; and then built a tower to guard that sector of the battlements. In honour of the milk-women’s courage he called it after her, the Hirakani Tower. Its ruins still bear the name.

Shivaji, unlike the Imperial authorities, had realised the value of sea-power and the strength it gave to the foreigners settled in the western ports. He had begun to build a navy, as a further weapon against the Empire.

It was on the allegiance of the Rajput clans that Akbar had based the stability of his empire. Rajput nobles were tempted to court and appointed to high office, Rajput princesses were accepted in marriage by the Emperors. Rajput dress was copied and the Rajput style and idiom sensibly affected the art of the Imperial capital. But the Rajputs had never accepted as inevitable the Mogul domination. And Jai Sing, with his Rajput’s age-old traditions of an almost endless crusade against Islam, accepted the command against a Hindu leader with a heavy heart; perhaps only his soldier’s oath of allegiance to the Emperor overcame his hesitation. The Emperor had assured him in phrases as cordial as they were rare in Aurangzeb’s mouth that only he could restore the military situation on the southern frontier. He had risen from the Peacock Throne and placed round Jai Sing’s neck his own pearl necklace. Yet, like so many Rajputs of that time, Jai Sing felt increasingly uneasy at the position of Hindus in the Empire; the tolerance of former reigns had given place to hardening discrimination. Jai Sing must have felt like a pagan general in the days of Theodosius, serving without enthusiasm in his old age under the lengthening shadow of the Labarum, but tied by a lifetime of memories and associations to the profession of arms.

Finally, by a lavish distribution of gold, Jai Sing’s agents tried to corrupt Shivaji’s own officers. In this last field of activity Jai Sing’s plans proved unfruitful, for only two of Shivaji’s officers listened to the overtures of the Mogul agents – and these were not Marathas.

With the news of Shivaji’s escape came also that of Ram Sing’s disgrace and dismissal from Court. If the son had so signally incurred the royal displeasure, might not Aurangzeb vent his anger also on the father? Rumours came to him that Mussulman courtiers, jealous of the high office and enormous fame of the old Rajput, were accusing him of complicity in Shivaji’s escape. This accusation was terrible to one of Jai Sing’s loyalty. “May God give death,” he cried, “to the man who cherishes the very thought of such an act of ill faith!” It is tragic that at the end of so long and distinguished a career in the service of the Empire Jai Sing’s last months were clouded by fear and grief. “There is no medicine against Fate,” the old man said and waited for a word from the Emperor. It came. Jai Sing was dismissed from his post and recalled to court. Broken with shame, unnerved by apprehension, Jai Sing travelled slowly northward. But he never lived to face the Emperor. He died on the way. His son Ram Sing did not long survive him. He died of plague in Assam.

It was inevitable that for lack of other intellectuals Brahmans should predominate among Shivaji’s ministers; but it was unfortunate. One day the power of the Brahman officials would grow so great that a Brahman Mayor of the Palace would eclipse Shivaji’s descendants.

Dr. Dellon, a French physician visiting Goa, wrote, “This Sevaji is a most Potent Prince. He has managed his affairs with much Prudence as to have Established himself, in spite of his Enemies, in all these Territories and has made himself so Dreadful to his Neighbours as to have made the city of Goa Tremble at his Approach. His Subjects are Pagans like himself. But he tolerates all Religions.”84

When the news reached Delhi, Aurangzeb, though his face lit up with joy, was yet stirred to a speech of unusual chivalry. “He was a great captain and the only one who has had the magnanimity to raise a new Kingdom. My armies have been employed against him for nineteen years, and, nevertheless, his state has been always increasing.” (Orme).