Historical events must be placed in context to prevent ideological predispositions from distorting facts over time. The subject of history has suffered from biases in recent times, and Aurangzeb, the longest-reigning Mughal emperor, has been one of the most affected. If this trend continues, his half-century of rule will continue to be fodder for divisive ideologies for centuries to come.
Despite being known for constructing temples for various Hindu communities, Aurangzeb is constantly being discredited for destroying them. He is vilified for taxing people to amass wealth, while the fact that he lived off the prayer caps he sold is conveniently overlooked. Even Francis Bernier’s observation that “the king governed his subjects with equity and impartiality” has not altered the generally negative perception of Aurangzeb.
Given the length of his reign, he must have evolved from an aggressive king to a pragmatic ruler. Much has been written about him, but nowhere has the potential transformation of a ruler been considered.
History is always written by the victors. However, the case of Aurangzeb demonstrates the exact opposite. Efforts are underway to erase his name from history books, with a city and numerous roads named after him already removed from the map. In fact, if not for his long tenure as emperor, he would have been labeled a fringe ruler centuries ago.
Few even ponder the possibility that he, too, may have been influenced by circumstances beyond his control. This is where Charu Nivedita’s “Conversations with Aurangzeb” comes in, giving the long-dead Mughal a chance to clear up misconceptions about himself.
Based on facts but written as a genre-bending novel, the narrative uses history to counter the ideological impulses of our time. Nandini Krishnan’s masterful translation from Tamil captures the book’s distinctive storytelling style, which is both humorous and thought-provoking.
The story unfolds as an aghori summons Aurangzeb’s spirit into his body. The spirit introduces itself as “I, Alamgir, born Aurangzeb, have come before you” and expresses a desire to dispel misinformation about the emperor.
The spirit divides the ruler’s life into three distinct phases based on his age: 40 to 50, 50 to 85, and 85 to 90, each reflecting a distinct persona. Charu Nivedita’s fact-filled story is so powerfully narrated that it will find no favor with the chest-thumping right wing or the self-proclaimed liberals, which is an accomplishment in and of itself.
Aurangzeb’s spirit agrees with知名 historian Jadunath Sarkar’s assessment that his life was a Greek tragedy. The spirit encourages readers to draw lessons from his life and make unbiased assessments of history by connecting the past to the present.
Consequently, the book is quite alarming in places.
The spirit acknowledges its numerous sins during its 90 years on earth. Aurangzeb was not “secular” in any sense, and readers may be distressed by his actions, whether motivated by his own beliefs or by political compulsions.
The novel’s strength lies in its ability to make readers realize that not much has changed on the Indian subcontinent, where outward displays of piety remain social and political virtues today. It exposes the justifications offered for今天的 wrongdoing.
If Aurangzeb was accused of lust for power, his spirit questions whether the lust for money, power, and blood is any less prevalent today.
This work of historical fiction, a complex but fascinating undertaking to dispassionately examine a grossly misunderstood subject, also manages to be a satire. Conversations with Aurangzeb enhances our comprehension of history while providing a sharp critique of our own time.
