The Cambridge History of India, Vol. III: Turks and Afghans v3.c30.32

v3.c30.32

With the transfer of the throne of Delhi from the Khaljī to the Tughluq dynasty, the architecture of the Imperial capital entered on a new and more austere phase. The days of its first youthful splendour and prodigal luxuriance were over. Lavish display of ornament and richness of detail now began to give place to a chaste sobriety which, as time went on, developed into a severe and puritanical simplicity. At first the change was due to the urgent need for economy and to the general revulsion of feeling against the excesses of the Khaljī régime. Public opinion had been outraged by the reckless follies of ‘Alā-ud-dīn and still more by the revolting vices of Quṭb-ud-dīn Mubārak and his outcast minion Khusrav Khān. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at if Ghiyās-ud-dīn Tughluq sought to break away from the past and, even in the matter of architecture, to avoid anything which might savour of the wanton extravagance of his predecessors. Later on, however, other causes contributed to intensify the plainness and severity of Tughluq architecture. One of these was the extreme religious bigotry of Muḥammad bin Tughluq and his cousin Fīrūz Shāh, which led them to discountenance any but the most scrupulously orthodox and austere forms of religious architecture. Another was the loss of State revenues consequent on the defection of the outlying provinces which made it increasingly difficult to finance vast building schemes such as those projected by Fīrūz Shāh. Yet a third cause which severely handicapped the architects was the decay of skilled craftsmanship during the reign of Muḥammad bin Tughluq, when the whole population of Delhi was forcibly transferred to Daulatābād and the city itself given over to desolation. Writing some years after the event Ibn Batūta tells us that the capital was ‘empty and abandoned with but a small population,’ and from all we know of its condition after Fīrūz Shāh’s succession to the throne, it is clear that Delhi was still suffering from the consequences of this disastrous migration which resulted in the dispersal of her skilled craftsmen and artisans, in the effectual loss of their traditions, and in the general neglect and ruin of her monuments. Thus the architects of the Tughluq period were beset on every hand by restrictions and difficulties which made it impossible for them to emulate the works of their predecessors under the Slave and Khaljī kings. All this is clearly demonstrated in the buildings they have left us. Ghiyās-ud-dīn reigned only four years (1321–25), and there are but two monuments of his of any consequence, namely, the city of Tughluqābād—the third of the Seven Cities—and the sepulchre which he built for himself beneath its walls. But both of these monuments are eloquent of the rapidly changing spirit of Imperial architecture. Few strongholds of antiquity are more imposing in their ruin than Tughluqābād. Its cyclopean walls, towering grey and sombre above the smiling landscape; colossal, splayed-out bastions; frowning battlements; tiers on tiers of narrow loopholes; steep entranceways; and lofty narrow portals: all these contribute to produce an impression of unassailable strength and melancholy grandeur. Within the walls all is now desolation, but, amid the labyrinth of ruined streets and buildings, the precincts of the Royal Palace once roofed with tiles of glittering gilt are still discernible; and so too is the citadel rising high above the rest of the town and protected by its own double or triple lines of defence. But, with all their seeming impregnability, the fortifications of Tughluqābād were in reality but very poorly built, consisting of nothing but a core of loose rubble with a facing of ashlar granite, and it is only too evident that they must have been put together in great haste, owing perhaps to some imminent peril from the Mongols.