Indian summer and luck of Mughals: How May heat sealed the fate of Sher Shah Suri

On May 26, most of India woke up to the news of two incidents related to fire. The first came from Rajkot in Gujarat and involved a fire in a gaming zone of the city. Till the time of writing, over thirty people have been reported as dead in this unfortunate accident, the saddest part being the presence of many children among the deceased. The second incident took place in Delhi’s Vivek Vihar and saw the death of ten people – including seven new born children – in a baby care centre.

While the recent incidents will be investigated and undoubtedly negligence of those in charge will be the probable cause, it is entirely likely that the incidents will not lead to any major changes. But the twin incidents, coming when they did at the fag end of May, did bring to mind the historic account of another fire related accident which not only caused death and injury but altered the course of Indian history itself.

Centuries ago, in May 1545, a man’s death due to burn injuries triggered a major change in India’s ruling dynasty whose effects would resonate even centuries later. The setting of the incident was in what is now Banda district of Uttar Pradesh. A large army had laid siege to the hilltop fort of Kalinjar, an ancient bastion that bore the scars of many a battle and which had seen off invading forces for centuries. This time, however, things were serious.

Laying siege to Kalinjar Fort was the army of Sher Shah Suri. It was not just a formidable force but a hardened one that had won several battles. Over the previous decade, Sher Shah and his men had swept the northern plains winning every key battle they fought and succeeding even against the toughest opposition. It was the effort to bring all of north India under his rule that had brought Sher Shah to Kalinjar. The formidable fort sitting right in the middle of the plains could not be allowed to be independent. The Rajput garrison within had to be ejected.

The siege began in 1544. One can imagine the attacking force surrounding it in May of the next year, preparing for a final assault. Thousands of troops lined up outside the immense expanse of the fort, hundreds waiting within, bracing themselves for the onslaught. All under the scorching May sun, perhaps in a summer as hot as the one we are going through now.

Accounts hold that Sher Shah led the assault himself. The story goes that explosive balls were being hurled into the fort from a rampart constructed by the attackers. And that one of these bounced back and landed on a store of either gunpowder or similar balls next to the rampart, triggering a massive explosion. While many troops were injured, Sher Shah was seriously burnt. Taken to his tent, he died of his injuries two days later, on May 22nd, 1545.

To understand the full impact of Sher Shah’s death, one has to capture an outline of his life. Born as Farid Khan in the latter half of the 15th century – his exact year of birth is unknown – to a minor jagirdar in Bihar’s Sasaram, he was one of several children. The Surs were a clan of Pashtun horse traders who operated within the larger realm of the Lodi dynasty that ruled north India, including parts including the north-west frontier. The story goes that, tormented by the utterances of a step-mother, Farid left home to seek his fortune with the Lodis. After the Lodi defeat at the hands of Babur in 1526, loyalties moved back and forth.

Sher Shah initially became regent of the minor ruler of Bihar, later taking over the kingdom himself. His ambitions, however, took him much further. By 1530, he had advanced westward, taking control of the mighty fort of Chunar, built next to the Ganges, south of Varanasi. A compromise with Babur’s son Humayun saw him put off a conflict with the Mughals till a later date, allowing Sher Shah the opportunity to expand eastwards, taking in parts of the rich province of Bengal.

Conflict with Humayun proved inevitable but by 1538, Sher Shah was ready. Successive victories over the Mughals, at Chausa and Kannauj, knocked Humayun off his perch and made Sher Shah the strongest force of the north. While consolidating his grip over his eastern possessions in Bengal, his forces invaded Malwa, Marwar (the region around Jodhpur), Sindh and Punjab.

His story, however, is not merely one of wars and military conquests. An able administrator, he improved the economy of his realm, minted currency, built upon an ancient road network to create one which knitted far-removed places of the kingdom with each other. All this time, Humayun remained in exile, wandering in Persia and what is now Afghanistan. Reclaiming the kingdom of his Timurid ancestors in central Asia seemed a lost cause and even the realm he had inherited from his father Babur now seemed closed to him.

And then, one day in May 1545, Sher Shah died of his burns. He was buried in a magnificent tomb he built for himself in Sasaram, Bihar. He was succeeded by his son Islam Shah. But the son didn’t rule for long, lasting less than a decade. Humayun, who had been eyeing his opportunity from the time of Sher Shah’s death, now returned. The Mughal Empire in India began again and the Surs became a mere interregnum. Had Sher Shah lived longer, it is entirely possible that his administration would have built a strong and consolidated kingdom, ensuring a stable reign for his successors – much like Akbar’s did for his Mughal heirs. And had he lived longer, the Mughals would have been seen as a tiny footnote in Indian history.

While the burns that caused Sher Shah’s death may have changed history, the death of people in Rajkot and Delhi may soon be forgotten. Unfortunately so. In a system where municipal corporations are ineffective and where fire safety norms are not well-regulated, able administrators like Sher Shah are needed if those responsible for municipal norms are to be forced to ensure compliance. Can public outcry over these events lead to lasting change too? Or is that too much to wish for?

The author is a heritage explorer by inclination with a penchant for seeking obscure sites. A brand consultant by profession, he tweets @HiddenHeritage. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.