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Most people imagine the period between Timur’s sack of Delhi and the arrival of the Mughals to be one of unrelenting darkness and disorder. The first major compendium of essays on the ‘long’ fifteenth century, this book presents a very different picture: one of intense cultural ferment, innovations in literature and language choice, and new forms of religious organization and expression. These cultural developments are set against a backdrop of political transformation. Once Timur returned to Samarkand in 1399, new kings and chieftains jostled for power, making new alliances and calling upon far-flung networks that stretched from Afghanistan to Bengal. Alongside the old capitals rose new towns inhabited by merchants and professionals, where long-standing local, cultural, and political forms were offset by transregional conversations wrought by increasingly mobile poets, preachers, and warriors who travelled widely in search of employment and adventure. A generation ago, the eighteenth century was revealed to be a period of innovation and entrepreneurship. In a similar vein, this book rehabilitates the fifteenth century through the interdisciplinary research of leading scholars of premodern South Asia, revealing foundational political and literary currents that have hitherto been obscured by empire-centred narratives of history.

This book offers an account of the ongoing struggles and instability of India's political and economic institutions. India's ascent as a formidable power on the world stage and its geopolitical ramifications have received much attention in recent years. The text delves into the intricate inner workings of this great Asian nation to reveal an Indian state struggling to maintain national security, domestic order, and steady fiscal growth despite weaknesses in its economic and political institutions. The sobering account questions India's perceived strengths and domestic and foreign policy initiatives, while focusing on the South Asian giant's infrastructural and economic growth problems, opposition to reform, and other important hurdles the nation has faced and will continue to face over the coming decade and beyond.

This book investigates the history of the Muslim communities in Delhi from the conquest of the city by Lord Lake in 1803 to the end of the First World War. It is based on a large range of sources in English, Urdu, and Persian—from government records to novels, from Sufi writings and fatwas to genealogies, from maps to miniatures, from handwritten newsletters to women’s journals. The book follows two main questions. One, Muslims have long been defined, first and foremost, by their religious identity. This study takes religion not as a given but asks about the universe of alternative identities—gender, territorial, class, descent, and language, which all shape a person’s sense of belonging to a specific community. It is only the interaction between the different identities, the book argues, which permits a re-evaluation of religious identity and a response to the question of when and under what circumstances it gains or loses predominance. Two, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the category of ashraf, marking out the respectable families, brought together the nobility and the educated and distinguished them from the trading communities, which were classified under the common people. This changed from the middle of the century: the new ashraf distinguished themselves not only from the commoners but also the nobility, held responsible for the disaster of 1857. At the same time, their new emphasis on work and achievement brought them nearer to the merchants. Thus the two-tiered social structure gave way to a three-tiered one, and the ashraf were transformed into middle classes.

This volume is about the history of the decline of the Mauryan dynasty in ancient India and the reign of Aśoka Maurya. It describes the sources of information for this study and Aśoka's early life, and his accession to the throne. It discusses the social and economic activity, internal administration, and foreign relations in Mauryan India and evaluates the role of Aśoka's policy of Dhamma in bringing social order. It highlights the weaknesses of the Mauryan rulers who followed after Aśoka's death and suggests reasons for the subsequent decline of the Mauryan dynasty.

More than a century ago, Atiya Fyzee, a Muslim woman of the renowned Tyabji clan, set out from colonial Bombay to study in Edwardian London. As she rode the steamboat, she began writing her daily experiences in a diary that would later appear as serialized entries in an Urdu women’s magazine published from the Punjab. Despite the magazine’s small circulation at the time, Atiya’s travelogue drew enough attention and gave the fledgling author her first taste of fame. In the years to come, she also became well known for her friendship with Maulana Shibli Numani and Muhammad Iqbal, two of South Asia’s most prominent Muslim intellectuals. Atiya and her husband Samuel Rahamin gained popularity worldwide in the early twentieth century in the fields of music, dance, theatre, the visual arts, and literature. Atiya Fyzee became a key figure in the cultural and intellectual history of South Asia. Atiya’s legend, sometimes contradictory and often exoticized, was formed in the last years of her life when she lived in Karachi after the Partition. This is a fascinating account of a Muslim women’s experience of ‘everyday’ in Edwardian Britain.

This book investigates the deeper area of class antagonism between the privileged and underprivileged classes as they faced the colonial state and its different ideas of legality and sovereignty in colonial Bengal. It examines the ambiguity in the bhadralok — the educated middle class — response to courts and jails. The author argues that the discourse of superior ‘bhadralok’ ethics and morals was juxtaposed against the ‘chhotolok’ — who were devoid of such ethical values. This enabled the bhadralok to claim for themselves the position of the ‘aware’ legal subject as a class — a ‘good’ subject obedient to the dictates of the new rule of law, unlike the recalcitrant and ethically ill-equipped chhotolok. The author underlines the development of a new cultural language of morality that delineated the parameters of bhadralok public behaviour. As the ‘rule of law’ of the British government slid unobtrusively into the public domain, the criminal courts and the jails turned into public theatres of infamy — spaces that the ethically bound bhadralok dreaded occupying. The volume, thus, documents how the colonial legal and penal institutions streamlined the identities of some sections of the lower castes into ‘criminal caste’. It also examines the nature of colonial bureaucracy and highlights the social silence on gender and women's criminality.

The book is an attempt at understanding the complex issues of identity formation in the relatively unexplored region of Northeast India. The work adopts the methodology of historical anthropology to make sense of a particular ethnic group, namely the Mizo, one of the many such groups in the region. While taking into consideration presentist self-perceptions of who the Mizos are, the study engages with their history as well as social practice to show the contours of identity-shaping and identity-making. Following from identity studies elsewhere, the author engages with the ideas of ‘difference’ and how it plays an important role in the creation of identity. She examines mainland India’s views about the Northeast and argues that the notion of ‘difference’ is deeply embedded in the politics of domination and hegemonization. Another thrust in the book is to look for patterns in social organization that impinge on identity-making that are not far removed from self-ascribed notions about the ‘ethnic self’. Such self-ascribed notions are seen as instruments of agency that defy the views of the ‘other’, while also organizing the ‘ethnic self’. In this, the community’s engagements with Christianity, which is ‘localized’, and its practices surrounding death are seen as prime organizers. ‘Praxis’, especially in the context of Christianity and death, are thus seen not only as chief organizers of Mizo identity, but also as the boundary markers around which notions of belonging and exclusion are invoked.

This book explores the contours of print production in Goa as an extension of the questions that had prompted the studies on print in colonial India. It looks into the nature of and principles guiding Portuguese colonialism in Goa. The discussion of print as the locus of the formation and contestation of polities rests on certain assumptions about the functioning of the colonial state, its relation with the colonial elite, relations within colonial society, dissemination and bilingualism. The book initially draws on the representations of the Catholic elite, who were historically situated by colonial policy to occupy that public realm in which representations from elite and the state circulated among a limited public. The basic determinants of the colonial print sphere, such as language, the price and availability of print, and the Portuguese colonial state’s stance towards indigenous culture and the colonial elite were manifest in this interaction. This book examines how publications such as newsprint, novels, and pamphlets were printed in Goa during the nineteenth century.

Halide Edip (1884–1964) once observed that Turkey is an ideal cross-section of the human world. Her own life was no less eclectic. A prolific novelist, teacher, erudite scholar, and political activist, Edip preserved her objectivity throughout her odyssey on the left-of-centre. Building on Edip’s connections with the Indian national movement and Mahatma Gandhi, this volume analyses her description of India and its bearing on her life. It explores several aspects of Edip’s career in India including the questions she confronts on gender, modernity, freedom movement, Gandhian movement, participation of women in the freedom struggle, religion and politics, and everyday life. At another level, the volume identifies common currents of history and experience between India and Turkey. It explores a number of issues of tremendous significance for the histories of liberation struggles and nation building in the Third World in general and Muslim/Islamic world in particular.

Caught in the web of global economic fluctuations, Bombay experienced a cataclysmic financial crisis in the 1860s. Before the crash the city’s economy was heavily dependent on the trade in cotton. By 1865, with the end of the American Civil War, the price of cotton plummeted, and with it the fortunes of Bombay’s people. Even people not directly involved in the cotton trade were affected. Thousands declared themselves insolvent and sought the protection of the Bombay High Court. Drawing on almost twenty thousand petitions of insolvents, Asiya Siddiqi explores a crucial phase of transformations in Indian economy and society. Situating her study in the early colonial period of constant negotiations between local, colonial, and global relationships, Siddiqi maps patterns of income, literacy levels, and connections between religion and occupation. She not only analyses the finances of the wealthy and the powerful but also of working people. Among the people who made an appearance in the insolvency petitions were artisans, traders, courtesans and dancing girls, managers, homemakers, domestic servants, and labourers. The documents tell us about types of professions, modes of self-identification, kinds and degrees of literacy, and income levels. The study also illuminates certain features of colonial law. People whose conduct was grounded in customary codes of practice that were relatively flexible and informal had to negotiate the streamlining and codification of practices that the colonial government undertook. From this scrutiny is revealed the workings of the complex and dynamic economic and social relationships among Bombay’s people in the late nineteenth century.

The work attempts to show how the shadow of Partition continues to fall over the society and politics of the state of Assam and how issues such as immigration, demographic change, language, and identity as well as citizenship that occupied the centre stage in the years immediately before and after the Partition have not only retained their relevance but have also gained an extra sense of urgency in the contemporary politics of the region. It is interesting to note that in the archive of the colonial state, the reader is often confronted with the region’s colonial past. The quest to define the Assamese identity still continues as it did in the 1940s and 1950s, and the historical effects of Partition have certainly had a long afterlife in the region. Not only did the Partition radically transform the political geography of the region and turn it overnight into a landlocked one, its aftereffects continued to be felt in the socio-political and economic life of the region in diverse ways. This book focuses primarily on the issues of immigration, land, language, and identity, which are seen as the unresolved issues of Partition politics. It attempts to show how after seven decades of Independence, the issues that almost exclusively engaged the public mind in the pre-Partition days continue to do so in today’s Assam. It is as if Assam has been caught in a rather eerie time warp.

Rarely do Indian environmental discourses examine nature through the lens of caste. Whereas nature is considered as universal and inherent, caste is understood as a constructed historical and social entity. Mukul Sharma shows how caste and nature are intimately connected. He compares Dalit meanings of environment to ideas and practices of neo-Brahmanism and certain mainstreams of environmental thought. Showing how Dalit experiences of environment are ridden with metaphors of pollution, impurity, and dirt, the author is able to bring forth new dimensions on both environment and Dalits, without valourizing the latter’s standpoint. Rather than looking for a coherent understanding of their ecology, the book explores the diverse and rich intellectual resources of Dalits, such as movements, songs, myths, memories, and metaphors around nature. These reveal their quest to define themselves in caste-ridden nature and building a form of environmentalism free from the burdens of caste. The Dalits also pose a critical challenge to Indian environmentalism, which has, until now, marginalized such linkages between caste and nature.

As the administrative and commercial capital of British India and as one of the earliest experiments in modern urbanization in the sub-continent, Calcutta proved enormously challenging to both its residents and its architects. In this imaginative study of colonial Calcutta, Anindita Ghosh charts the history of its urbanization from below—in its streets, strikes, and popular urban cultures. Claiming the City offers a close-up view of the city’s underbelly by drawing in a range of non-archival sources—from illustrations and amateur photographs to street songs, local histories, and memoirs—which show that Calcutta was not just a ‘problem’ to be disciplined and governed, as the colonialists would have us believe. Instead, the city emerges as a lively and crucial site for the shaping of the discourse on claims to urban spaces and resources by various marginal groups. Ghosh uses the everyday as a prism for exposing the wide spectrum of political and social imaginaries that shaped the city and shows how the once proverbial ‘City of Palaces’ slowly turned into a city of endemic unrest and strife.

There have been several studies of colonial Lahore in recent years. These have explored such themes as the city’s modernity, its cosmopolitanism and the rise of communalism which culminated in the blood- letting of 1947. This work moves away from the prism of the Great Divide of 1947 to examine the cultural and social connections which linked colonial Lahore with North India and beyond. Imperial globalisation globalization intensified long established exchanges of goods, people and ideas, despite portrayals of Lahore as inward looking and a world unto itself. The current volume is thus reflective of the concerns arising from the global history of Empire and the new urban history of South Asia. These are addressed in a series of thematic chapters, rather than in a narrative account of the city’s development during colonial rule. A number of previously neglected areas of Lahore’s history emerge in this volume that are suggestive of new avenues for research. These include the links between Lahore’s and Bombay’s early film industries; the growth of western tourism; the trans-regional opportunities for poets, musicians and sportsmen; the new patterns of religious pilgrimage; the consumption of foreign goods and finally, the growth of Lahore’s trans-regional revolutionary networks.

The interconnected lives of humans and elephants have shaped landscapes, determined the destinies of empires, and stimulated new kinds of knowledge, skill, and practice. Their encounters have also produced intimate forms of companionship, as well as conflict over space and resources. In South Asia, where many people live in close proximity to elephants, this interspecies relationship resonates with cultural significance. Such diverse, multifaceted, and frequently problematic relations between two kinds of intelligent social mammals have drawn the attention of multiple types of researchers and research. Interpreting this interspecies encounter, however, remains problematic, often producing disparate understandings that resist coherent integration. This volume seeks to remedy the problem of disciplinary commensurability by facilitating conversation across the humanities, social sciences, and natural sciences. Bringing together anthropologists, biologists, ecologists, geographers, historians, political scientists, and Sanskrit language specialists, this volume explores the social, historical, and ecological dimensions of human–elephant conflict and coexistence. It engages with both species as world-making subjects acting in ways that profoundly affect each other. This book not only helps us appreciate that we cannot understand elephant habitat and behaviour in isolation from the humans that help configure it, but also makes us realize that we cannot understand human political, economic, and social life without the elephants that shape and share the world with them. Refusing to study animal ecologies and human histories as exclusive phenomena, this book argues for an integrated approach to understanding and responding to the challenges of human–elephant relations.

This book charts the history of the term communalism and the politics and attitudes it seeks to encapsulate. While attending closely to the social, economic, and political issues underlying Hindu and Muslim struggles, it investigates and meanings different participants in the sectarian politics of the period attached to these politics. It is a part of a larger exercise aimed at understanding the construction of Indian society and politics in recent times by challenging the conventional analysis of communalism and providing alternative theoretical cues to grasp its nature and dynamics. The book also explores how nationalism and communalism are constructed out of shared as well as contested experiences and out of common and mutually contradictory visions and struggles. It is a milestone in contemporary debates on nationalist policies and modern political communities. Given the worldwide resurgence of religious nationalism and communalism, this new edition reopens many of the questions signalled in the first edition and carries the discussion forward through an analysis of the uses of the term communalism in a postcolonial world, and seeks to historicize the debate on political violence and the targeting of the minorities in recent times.

Contestations and Accommodations charts the social, economic, and political history of the Mewat region of north India from the 13th to the early 18th centuries. Denting the conventional image of communities in medieval India as self-sufficient, changeless, and autonomous entities, it takes up the case of the Meos of Mewat to argue that these communities have regularly undergone profound socio-economic changes, which are an integral part of their histories. The volume offers a historically nuanced perspective of the evolution of the identity of Meos. Delineating Mewat’s ecology and its impact on the economy, it lays bare the process of community formation among the Meos in the wake of their peasantization and Islamicization. Exploring the contours of this transformation in the larger backdrop of the establishment of a centralized state under the Sultanate and the Mughal rule, this work also throws light on the emergence of a new class of zamindars, namely the Rajputs and the Jats, at the cost of the old landed elites, namely the Khanzadas and the Meos—a phenomenon that generated significant agrarian turmoil in the rural society at large.

The period following the death of Aurangzeb has been viewed as the beginning of the decline and decay of the Mughal empire. Examining two contrasting regions of north India — Awadh and Punjab — this pioneering work shows how the period 1707–48 saw the emergence of a new order with local and regional idioms. Muzaffar Alam focuses on the interplay of imperial collapse with regional restructuring. He contends that even as the empire declined, there emerged a new, regionally-based political order, maintained and controlled by former Mughal rulers. From agrarian uprisings to the jagirdari system, the Sikhs to the Zamindars, this book presents a bold new interpretation of an important transition in this period.

Culture of Encounters documents the fascinating exchange between the Persian-speaking Islamic elite of the Mughal Empire and traditional Sanskrit scholars, which engendered a dynamic idea of Mughal rule essential to the empire’s survival. This history begins with the invitation of Brahman and Jain intellectuals to King Akbar’s court in the 1560s, then details the numerous Mughal-backed texts they and their Mughal interlocutors produced under emperors Akbar, Jahangir (1605–1627), and Shah Jahan (1628–1658). Many works, including Sanskrit epics and historical texts, were translated into Persian, elevating the political position of Brahmans and Jains and cultivating a voracious appetite for Indian writings throughout the Mughal world. The first book to read these Sanskrit and Persian works in tandem, Culture of Encounters recasts the Mughal Empire as a polyglot polity that collaborated with its Indian subjects to envision its sovereignty. The work also reframes the development of Brahman and Jain communities under Mughal rule, which coalesced around carefully selected, politically salient memories of imperial interaction. Along with its groundbreaking findings, Culture of Encounters certifies the critical role of the sociology of empire in building the Mughal polity, which came to irrevocably shape the literary and ruling cultures of early modern India.

This book examines the nature and function of history writing in India by focusing on early modern traditions of historiography with particular reference to Bengal. Situating distinctive cultures of history vis-á-vis their relevant political and cultural contexts, it highlights the richness, variety and politically-sensitive character of a range of oral and textual narratives. The volume also makes a significant contribution to the intellectual and cultural history of early modern India by exploring interactions between regional and vernacular cultures on the one hand, and the Islamicate, Persianized culture of the Mughal Empire on the other. Strongly grounded in primary sources, it re-examines the concepts of authority, evidence, and method in early modern historiography. Examining the cultural environment in which history was produced and used, it also discusses the debates surrounding the culture of history writing in India.