Illustrations by Biman Nath
The Sultan’s durbar was extraordinary in appearance to say the least. A number of young Turkish beauties dressed in men’s attire appeared on his right-hand side. Five hundreds in number, they were the Sultan’s bodyguards, ready with bows and arrows in their hands. A similar number of women appeared on the Sultan’s other side, in similar attire. But there was a stark difference between these two groups of women. The guards on the Sultan’s left-hand side were Abyssinians, and they carried firearms instead of bow and arrow.
A quick glance at the thousand women in the durbar could tell anyone that they had been carefully selected, trained and nurtured. Not only them, but the Sultan also had another fourteen thousand women to give company. He was worried about his failing libido, which he thought would be fanned by the houris incarnate in his company. Their warmth notwithstanding, the royal menu was also geared towards taking his carnality to a higher notch.
There was another extraordinary aspect of the Sultan’s special durbar: no man was allowed in it. This durbar took place in his harem. Historians have duly recorded: He accordingly established within his seraglio all the separate offices of a court, and had at one time fifteen thousand women within his palace. Among these were school-mistresses, musicians, dancers, embroiderers, women to read prayers, and persons of all professions and trades. [1]
The Sultan’s openly consorting with women did by no means diminish the respect paid by his ministers. Here was a Sultan against whom there were no murmurs of dissent or complaints. A unique Sultan indeed, because soon after ascending the throne he had announced to the officials that he was done with battles! He had done all that he had to do in order to save his father’s kingdom, ran from one battlefront to another and defended the kingdom. But he was tired now and wanted to forsake arms to lead a life of leisure. Hadn’t he earned the right to do that after thirty-four years of constant armed campaign? He had wondered aloud.
The Sultan had kept his word, and didn’t wear battle armour even when a critical situation descended upon his state. An attack on the neighbouring Ranthambore by Bahlul Lodi had made his officials panic, and rightly so. When they broached the topic to the Sultan, he didn’t show any concern. Then the emirs figured out the only trick that could rouse him. They told him, and that too in gory detail, how Lodi posed an immediate danger to his harem! And it worked like magic. Not that the Sultan geared himself for battle, but he called for Sher Khan, the ruler of Chanderi, and known for his bravery.
Lodi’s advance was halted, and the Sultan could go back to his old ways. Which meant that he was back to occupying himself with his harem. No one had a problem with this though. On the contrary, historians vouch for the rather unique case of contentment among the citizens in his kingdom: It is an extraordinary fact that no rebellion among his own subjects, nor invasion of the Malwa territories by an enemy… [2] The only exception was the situation with Bahlul Lodi, which the Sultan took care of in an astute manner, without breaking his promise never to pick up arms. He was able to do that because of the loyalty of his officials, who didn’t see him as weak. Even his elite emirs ‘put out the hand of liberality and lavishness from the sleeve of generosity and made all sections of the people satisfied and grateful.’ [3]
The Sultan was none other than Ghias-ud-din Shah, also known as Ghiyath Shah. He had ascended the throne after the death of his father Mahmud Shah, in 1469 CE. And within a few days, during the festivities of his coronation, he had made the fateful announcement to his officials of his desire to take himself off administrative responsibilities. He had given his eldest son a new title ‘Nasir-ud-Din’, and made him the chief minister, as well as the head of a twelve-thousand strong cavalry. Nasiruddin was now supposed to take care of the Malwa Sultanate, just as Ghiyath Shah had done for his own father.
The Sultan had all the time now in the world to focus on his harem. And the construction of Jahaz-Mahal for his harem women to supervise. The magnificent building, with two big lakes on two sides, had the appearance of a ship on water, from which it acquired its name.
This was where his durbars used to take place. He was the only male member of the durbar, among the fifteen thousand houris of his harem. If it sounds like a fable, wait till you hear other stories and legends of the harem, of which there is no dearth. Apparently, a daily ration of two ‘sers’ of rice and two copper ‘tanka’ were granted to every member of the harem. One day someone had spotted a mouse in the building, which made it a bona-fide member of the place, and lawful beneficiary of the daily ration! At once, the mouse was granted the same allowance. Apparently, all other pets in the harem, including pigeons and parrots, were included in the sanctioned list of those who could receive the daily share. Accounts like this have been duly recorded by the Persian historian Muhammad Qasim Hindu Shah Astarabadi, aka Firishta.
At the same time, the Sultan was a devout Muslim, who never forgot to dutifully pray five times a day. One of his recurrent fears was that he won’t wake up in time for the namaz at dawn. He had ordered his servants to wake him at any cost, even if it meant forcing him out of his slumber. They had no choice but to awaken him by sprinkling water on his face or pulling him out of his bed before the prayer time. There is no record of anyone being punished for it though. A man of his words, he also cared for the education of his women. A madrasah for only girls was built at Sarangpur. It is no wonder that his subjects thought of him as a generous and a just ruler.
But the main reason why Ghiyath Shah is still remembered today is Nimatnama. The word ‘Nimat’ in Persian has more than one meaning. If ‘khana’ is added to it, it would mean kitchen or storeroom. Without the suffix, it means treasure, wealth, or opulence. Incidentally, Ibn Batuta had once described Bengal as ‘Dojakh-i-pur-nimat’, or the Hell of opulence! But Nimat can also mean pleasure and enjoyment, even honour. That includes royal food! And it was good food that Ghiyat Shah’s Nimatnama was all about. It was not a mere recipe book. The book, and its accompanying miniature paintings, was also about celebrating food, history of cooking and more. That is why this book has been a treasure trove for food-lovers, historians, linguists, and even artists, because it painted a spirited image of the Malwa style of living life in the 15th century. The bon-vivant life of the Malwa elites come alive in the book, the original copy of which is at the British Library, with details of their taste in sartorial matters, interior decoration, comestibles and aristocratic manners.
According to historians, the book was written during the last phase of Ghiyat Shah’s life. He died in 1500 CE, and the book was probably written between 1495 and 1505 CE, because the name of his son, Sultan Nasir-ud-Din Shah, appears in the complete title of the book: ‘Nimatnama-i-Nasiruddin-Shahi’, because he had made some additions. Incidentally, Nasir-ud-Din had dethroned his father, and within four months of this event, Ghiyat Shah’s dead body was found in his harem. Death by poisoning was suspected, according to the historian Firishta, who wrote about intrigues in the palace that began with the failing strength of the father, around 1497 CE. Shujat, the youngest son of Ghiyat Shah, found an opportunity to stake his claim for the throne when Nasir-ud-Din happened to be away from the capital. Nasir-ud-Din rushed back to Mandu, after being alerted by loyalists, who had kept the Tarapur door of the fort open for him to enter. Shujat had taken refuge at his father’s harem, but Ghiyat Shah could neither save Shujat’s life from Nasir-ud-Din’s rage, nor those of Shujat’s children and others in the family.
Why did the emirs betray Ghiyat Shah, if there was such a goodwill among them towards him? Some tend to blame, as usual, a woman. Khurshid Begum was Ghiyat Shah’s dearest in the harem, and she had begun to influence the administration of Mandu, with clear indulgence from Ghiyat Shah. Shujat had been conspiring with her help in order to get close to the throne, but Khurshid Begum had annoyed the emirs so much that they had decided to support Nasir-ud-Din against the duo. Nasir-ud-Din didn’t spare Khurshid Begum either. She was imprisoned well before Shujat was done away with. [4]
Although helped by the officials to become the Sultan, Nasir-ud-Din was distrustful of people by nature. Soon after becoming the Sultan, he became aloof and detached from them, ultimately precipitating his own untimely death. History doesn’t say much about him though, except that he did complete the unfinished book of Nimatnama before he died, for which he would be remembered by food lovers across centuries.
To say that Nimatnama is full of surprises is probably an understatement. It starts with a prayer to cockroaches! The first few lines written in clear bold fonts say: ‘Yā Kabīkaj! Oh, the exalted Sultan of cockroaches! Please do spare this offering of mine to the culinary world.’ Francis Joseph Steingass, a Persian language scholar, explained that ancient books in India and elsewhere often had such an opening phrase, to ensure that the book wouldn’t be destroyed by insects if the king of cockroaches were directly addressed by the writer. Ghiyat Shah clearly didn’t want to take any risk in this regard and followed the custom not only at the beginning but also at the end! [5]
The fifty miniature paintings in the book are worth a detailed study. With their depiction of the life-style, architecture, fashion of Malwa elites in that era, each one of them is a gem. According to art historians, these paintings were the harbingers of the southern Islamic style, which mixed the central-western Indian style with Shiraji style from Persia. The first few miniatures of Nimatnama were painted in the Shiraji style, and slowly, the style became more Indian, in the portraiture of faces, dresses and architecture.
Even the presentation of the pictures in the book was unique. The captions, written on the margins, described the dishes whose preparation was being illustrated. Some words in the caption, which also appeared in the main text, were highlighted in red, and the rest were in black. Some of them showed the Sultan regaling an audience with the usage of perfumes at home or healthy life style. Others pictorially demonstrated the preparation of pulao, halwa, sharbat, samosa, sheek-kabab, aphrodisiacs and aromatic medicines, even the offerings of betel leaves and areca nut, and even hunting expedition by the Sultan, fishing, cooling of water.
Each miniature portrayed the Sultan as conducting the preparations, contentment writ large in his face. Women can be seen in the background, at the heart of the kitchen. Men, even when present in the paintings, don’t seem to be relevant, except in hunting scenes or the preparation of perfumes. In contrast, women dominate the scene, even when we see the Sultan in the act of fishing. These pictures lend an added dimension to what could have been a mere recipe book.
Linguists have also found the language of Nimatnama to be distinctly unique. It was primarily written in Urdu, and therefore heavily influenced by Farsi, because Urdu language was still in its cradle at that time. And the calligraphy! Written in Naskh bold font, the Mandu calligraphy had a novel style.
Coming to recipes, the most talked about sections in Nimatnama deal with aphrodisiacs. Ghiyat Shah was not secretive about their preparation, as other food lovers had been in the past. The practice of making sensually arousing food is no doubt an ancient one, but one would be hard pressed to find a detailed description in ancient books. Ghiyat Shah even narrated the history of such old recipes in his book, going back to the time of his ancestor Dilwar Khan Ghori, the first Sultan of Malwa in the 14th century. Firoze Shah was the Sultan of Delhi, and he had sent Dilwar to Malwa to rule the place. Later, Dilwar had become an independent ruler. But he had brought a secret recipe for an aphrodisiac from Delhi, and which later became a favourite of the Malwa Sultans, which Ghiyat Shah shared in his book, along with numerous others.
But before delving into aphrodisiac, here is a recipe that adventurous readers can try out. For this dish called Mongal Yakhni, one needs mountain lamb, along with wild bird, which, if not easily available, you can substitute by a deer. If you cannot get hold of a wild lamb, an ordinary lamb would do just fine. Tenderize the meat first by beating it repeatedly with a wooden mallet. Then cook it in low flame. Mix asafoetida, cardamom, clove, a paste of cumin and fenugreek (methi), black pepper, onion, ginger and aromatic ghee, and you will have Mongal Yakhni. Remember that the meat needs to be cut into thin salami pieces before eating. A dip of lime juice would be excellent, if you want the taste in proper Ghiyat Shahi style.
You may not want to try these recipes at home though, because they need a clay oven. Those days, one had to dig out a chullah, which the Sultan’s team used to make during hunting trips, or during his travels outside the capital. The accompanying soldiers were not left out of the feast, because the royal chefs used to cook for no less than a few hundred people, with dug-out ovens that were as long as three feet and two feet in width. They would have preheated the oven with fire. Then they put rings of stones inside, which would soon become fiery hot. For meat, they used wild lamb, or beef. Along with the spices for Mongal Yakhni, they would add turmeric, lime juice and ghee. Inside the oven, they would first spread banana leaves, then put some meat on it, and then cover with another layer of banana leaves, and then another layer of meat. These layers of banana leaves and meat would be stacked, interspersed with a sheet of hot stones. Then, after the meat of a dozen lambs had been put inside the oven, it would be quickly closed with soft clay. The oven would be heated from above with wood fire. And then one would wait until the smoked meat, mixed with the aroma of banana leaves and burnt soil, was ready to be taken out of the oven, and tasted with vinegar or lemon juice.
Nimatnama had clear instructions for the making of the clay ovens as well. Ghiyat Shah was fond of hunting, and so narrations of cooking out in the field naturally found its way into the book. The history of clay oven is old, but the chefs had worked on it further and developed their own style. At times, they used a bed of flowers in the oven, and stuck in aromatic flowers inside the layers of banana leaves and meat.
If you are wondering about fish, Nimatnama’s fish recipes are a treasure trove. One of them is Macchi-loaf. This can be preserved for a long time, and can come to the readers’ advantage if guests appear unannounced. You would need boneless fish to begin with. Heat oil, with a pinch of asafoetida, and cook fish keema in it. Then add fresh lemon leaves, cardamom seeds, cloves, a paste of cumin and fenugreek, salt, lemon juice, and put it away for a night to marinate. It should become dry like kneaded flour. The next day, cut out small loaves from it and bake under bright sunlight, and store them away in a jar. No need to fry, because Macchi-loaf is tasty enough as it is, but you can also try deep frying them. If you are not a fish-lover, you can substitute with quail or deer meat.
The real surprise in Nimatnama is the section on vegetarian dishes. There is a general impression of dominance of non-vegetarian dishes in Sultani kitchens, and that their preparations are inevitably accompanied by the smell of onion-garlic, fish and meat. Nimatnama proved this wrong with its elaborate vegetarian recipes. It narrated the story of dishes made with a paste of cucumber and melon seeds. You can smash the seeds and make a paste with a bit of flour, and then make small dumplings out of it. Fry them in ghee and then bake with some herbs. Add camphor and rose water, and you would find a Ghiyat Shahi flavour in your vegetarian dish.
There was one curious ingredient in most recipes in Nimatnama: deer musk (kasturi). And with it, asafoetida, pure ghee, saffron and ambergris, which give its recipes a distinct taste. But modern food lovers need not relent– you can substitute deer musk and ambergris by cinnamon and cardamom. Even the popular dishes of today can acquire a different flavour with the Nimatnama ingredients. Take for example keema kofta. Make balls out of a paste of boiled moong dal and keema, and fry them in ghee. Prepare a gravy with a paste of raisins, almond, pistachio, pine nuts, chironji and coconut. Garnish it with camphor and rose-water, and your keema kofta will acquire a distinct Malwa flavour.
What about sheikh-kabab roll? For this, you’d need only turmeric, salt and onion, but you can add some greens as well. Mix them all and bring to boil. Then put small pieces of the meaty dough around skewers, along with vegetable pieces and onion, brushing them with a mix of ghee, kewra, ambergris, rose-water, salt, lemon juice.
Khichdi turns to be another popular dish among us that used to feature in the royal kitchen of Ghiyat Shah. Or laddu and sharbat. Even samosa! Apparently, samosa was so popular even back then that Ghiyat Shahi couldn’t avoid mentioning several recipes for samosa. Here is, for example, one of samosa recipes from Nimatnama: Mix lamb keema with turmeric, cumin, fenugreek, coriander, cardamom and clove. Heat ghee in a kadai and sprinkle asafoetida. When you can smell ghee, put the keema mix in the kadai. When it is cooked, and add lemon juice, black pepper and ginger-onion and remove. Add a dash of camphor and deer-musk. Use the stuffing to make samosa and fry in ghee. They can be both small and big, the small ones to be eaten in one bite. And don’t forget a dip of vinegar or lemon juice.
A veritable page turner, Nimatnama has been admired by food lovers almost like a culinary counterpart of the Arabian Nights! Reading it is like a trip to a fantasy land, and one would almost feel in the presence of houris when one reads about even a simple plate of rice being offered with the aroma of deer musk, sandal wood, white ambergris, and rose water! But the reader is well aware that it is not fantasy, because the precise amount of each ingredient is given in the book. (Two dirams (equivalent to half a gram in weight) of these ingredients are to be used.) Brought back to the real world from fantasy land, the reader will inevitably feel like trying these out in their kitchen.
Besides food recipes, Nimatnama has instructions for using perfumes. How to keep oneself fragrant for a long time by dabbing essences in folds of the body, in joints, and washing one’s hands with rose water. Or, how to keep clothes and one’s hair smell great. Even how to keep the aroma of banquet food intact for a long time. Then there are directions for preparing perfumes! The list of ingredients would tickle the imagination of any reader. Besides exotic material like sweet smelling snail or sugarcane rind, the book mentions aromatic grass, fragrant flowers, deer musk, sandal wood, ambergris, camphor, rose water—along with incense, saffron, orange peel, honey, clove oil.
Going back to aphrodisiacs, each recipe comes with a guarantee of heightened sexual pleasure. The famous recipe from Firoze Shah Tughlak is tagged with a no-nonsense byline: ‘Eat one pellet daily, the semen flows’! [6] The ingredients for this are not difficult to collect either. One needs mace, cloves, poppy seeds, saffron, celery seed and jasmine—five dirams of each. Make a paste of all these, mix with honey, and make pellets. Take one each with betel leaves daily, and all your problems in bed would vanish.
Here is another super-food for boosting sex drive: ten sers of khorasani white onions to be cut into rings. Fry them to golden colour in ghee, and add previously fried meat of a young pigeon. Add a pound of red beans and chick pea. When the beans and peas become soft, mix one diram of cinnamon, half a diram of galangal and pieces of dry roti. Remove from fire after the beans-peas-meat mixture become soft as a paste, and cut into triangular pieces. Garnish with gold leaves. Nimatnama calls it the ‘Bhangra’ method. The concoction is to be eaten with tandoori roti and chicken soup. Ghiyat Shah assures that this is bound to ‘increase the flow of semen and strengthen sexual desire’. [7]
There are more such gems. Not only pellets, there are also ointments. You’d need cow and lamb milk, along with fresh butter, ghee (from cowmilk) and honey. Mix well. Then add one by one cardamom, date, chironji, amla, poppy seed, cloves, roasted peas, date-sugar, black pepper, pine nuts, dried ginger, chick peas, almond, fig, haritaki, akarkara, and raisin. Make into a paste and use on private parts. ‘It makes sexual intercourse very pleasurable and comfortable’, pledges Ghiyat Shah in Nimatnama. [8]
Lest you should think of the Sultan as a sex maniac, there are also directions to prepare medicines for crisis situations. Tired after riding your horse for a long time while out hunting? Had a sun-stroke? Nimatnama has the right medicine in this case. Collect all the flowers and fruits you can lay your hands on and put them on the patient’s bed. Get hold of a humorous person, to give the patient company. Give the patient cucumber, along with its tiny variety, and wild fig to eat, and sprinkle some perfume. Bring a water wheel and pour water on it. Mix burnt camphor and cucumber leaves in rose water and apply on the patient’s body. Sponge repeatedly with wet cloth. Put water in a container with holes on top. Take the bedsheet … [text illegible] give a dress of thin linen. Make a cold compress with rose water, camphor and sandal. Wet a large piece of cloth in this solution and keep shaking it above the head. Wrap around a shawl of pearls around the head-eyes-chest. Keep fanning with a metallic or wooden plate, also with wet muslin. Give the patient cool food and beverage. Put ice-cold jasmine flowers on the eyelids…[text illegible]
So much about sun stroke while hunting! What about heat stroke inside the harem itself? There are remedies for Ghiyat Shahi harem women fainting in Malwa summer heat as well. For insomniac males, he recommends the company of a soft-spoken woman. There should be Sarod playing in the background. The bedroom should be full of aroma from flowers and fruits. Wet lips of the female companion should slowly descend on the person and relieve him from insomnia.
Thousands of such instructions adorn this one-of-its-kind book. Certainly not a mere recipe book, but a celebration of life itself. And the stories it tells the reader across centuries, of a time that had an ambience of fusion of cultures, waft through our minds, never failing to surprise and making the reader wonder.
[1] Mahomed Kasim Ferishta, History of the Rise of the Mohamedan Power in India, Till the Year A.D. 1612, Translated by John Briggs, Vol. IV, Oriental Books Reprint Corporation, New Delhi, P. 143
[2] Ibid, p. 143
[3] The Nimatnama Manuscript of the Sultans of Mandu, The Sultan’s Book of Delights, Translated by Norah M. Titley, Routeledge Curzon, London and New York, 2005, Introduction page
[4] Ruchika Sharma, Thinker, tailor, spy: The extraordinary women of Ghiyas-ud-din Khalji’s harem, scroll.in, Mar 22, 2017
[5] The Ni’matnama, Introduction
[6] The Ni’matnama, p. 33
[7] The Ni’matnama,p. 55
[8] The Ni’matnama,p. 34
