This is a 2500-word essay that I submitted for a course in EFL University, Hyderabad.
Neil Nagwekar
H00MAELI20190056
Period Studies Through Balladry (LIT 255)
Dr. Aparna Lanjewar Bose
12 April 2020
On Shivaji, Powadas and the Construction of the Medieval Maratha Hero
It could easily be argued—inferenced from the number of streets, books, statues, parks, railway stations and airports being in his name—that, in the state of Maharashtra, the Age of Shivaji has continued the relentless pursuit it began in the 17th century. For a state that has been the abode of notable personalities who have either personified or protested against the culture of the country (Phule, Ambedkar, Tilak, etc.), Maharashtra’s persistent emphasis on Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj is fascinating.
Why is it so? While it is common—and, perhaps, not wholly inaccurate—to denunciate his current fame as exaggerations or fabrications for the benefit of jingoistic propaganda, that explanation would regardless be, if not downright indolent, stereotypical. If Shivaji’s conquests and victories were outright lies to perpetuate patriotism in contemporary politics, why would historical versions by Occident scholars—recorded, crucially, prior to Indian independence—correspond with today’s version of Indian history? One may freely debate the morality of Shivaji’s deeds, and may even claim them to be twisted versions of the truth (an issue that will be explored anon) but, due to the sheer absence of evidence, the magnitude of Shivaji’s titanic presence in Indian history cannot be presently denied. Instead, a truer comprehension of the origin and extent of Shivaji’s current fame is contingent, firstly, upon a brief understanding of particular facets of the history of Maharashtra.
It may be unmannerly—although I do not think it inaccurate—to posit that much of their history and culture; at least, before and during the medieval period; implicates a crisis of Maratha identity. The very etymology of their name, deriving from ‘Ratta’, ‘Rathi’ or ‘Rathas’, all early terms for a particular class of Kshatriya, is a celebration of this grandiose (‘maha’) class of coastal and central Indian warriors. It is this core ideology that influenced not only their mannerisms—for they were noted by a Chinese traveller for their simple, honest, yet haughty and supercilious nature—but also their culture. One of the only books extant in the original Maharashtri is on King Shalivahana from Paithan; the part-mythic monarch, author and patron of the arts who, by crushing his opponents, encapsulated this Maratha identity.
However, apart from the tales of a sole legendary conqueror, it would be reasonable to suggest that, until Shivaji, none of the monarchs truly succeeded in asserting this Maratha identity. While certain families like the Rashtrakutas or the Chalukyas sustained their strength long enough to be retrieved from history’s lost pages, none of them had hitherto attained the respect ascribed to, say, Maurya or Mughal empires. That, coupled with the empire’s eventual submission to the Muhammadan dynasty meant that, from 1271 till the 17th century, the Marathas had to suffer the ignominy of being mere vassals and conquered lands of a foreign race and religion.
These three-and-a-half centuries could have suppressed or changed altogether the supposed Maratha spirit, regardless of the parallel blossoming of Marathi literature and culture. And, granted, one could argue that the abhangs1 of Namdev, the legacy of Dnyaneshwar or the lavnis2 of the 17th century, in its collective celebration of Maratha culture, sowed the seeds of nationalist sentiment and; indeed, when one looks back at the history of Maharashtra with the helpful hindsight of the 21st century; such assertions even appear likely. However, I do not think that, for the average Maratha subject under the Muhammadan dynasty, any of these art forms would have struck patriotic chords with as much aggressiveness, firmness or sincerity as did the powadas of the Gondhali3 community.
Since its inception in the start of the 17th century, these historical ballads rose in prominence and quickly became part of the fabric of Maratha life. Amidst all prospering Marathi art forms, it would be reasonable to suggest that powadas, regardless of what one may think of their inherent artistic quality, managed to attain greater universal currency among the commoners than any other forms of poetry or music. By performing, usually on demand, in marriages and investitures—not only; to briefly digress; historical ballads, but also tamashas4 and lalitas5, art forms known till this day—they appealed to the very grassroots of the Maratha peasantry. Even Amba Bhavani6, the god they worshipped, would eventually become the patron deity of Shivaji’s kingdom. One can see how, in these ways, the Gondhali gradually managed to build a cultural unity within the Maratha nation.
It is necessary to note the intent of, and the resulting magnitude with which, bards and priests composed these easily recollected songs; of tales that stirred the nationalist spirit during the time of Maratha suppression. By introducing the commoners to stories of heroism—and, crucially, instead of abstracting them to rivers and roads near the Ganga, setting them to immediate surroundings—the Gondhali succeeded in creating an air of revolution. Of course, that Shivaji was a supreme military general who managed to successfully capitalize on the destruction of the Muhammadan empire by the Mughals, must not be mistakenly accredited to historical ballads. Having said that, it must be emphasized how, in the years immediately preceding and during the years of Shivaji, the powadas had complemented his hitherto unformed mission by already laying the material foundations and erecting the material rooftops for a Maratha culture that would, with open arms, welcome the accommodations and ambitions of a monarch.
These powadas, which had, with great effort, resurrected the medieval Maratha identity from the days of King Shalivahana, revised the essences that Shivaji would subsequently embody. In fact, if the extent of interest Shivaji had in Indian culture and mythology—according to Harry Acworth in Ballads of the Marathas—is true, it is quite possible that the powadas directly assisted his ambitions.
…[Shivaji] never learned to read or write, but […] was particularly fond of the legendary history of the Hindus, set forth in the Mahabharat and Ramayana, and of the dramatic entertainments called Kathas. (Acworth xvii)
In the final analysis, it is precisely these peculiar set of circumstances—the origin of powadas, the timely collapse of the Muhammadan dynasty and the realization of Maratha identity that first personified itself in Shivaji—that marked the beginning of the Maratha Empire along with the golden age of powadas.
What is equally important to note is that when we consider how the Maratha Empire prospered post-Shivaji; indeed, even capturing the Red Fort in the 18th century; and even when we subsequently modify the question posed in the beginning of the argument (i.e. if not literary or cultural icons, why were future rulers like Sambhaji or Shahu Maharaj who also personified the medieval Maratha identity not glorified to the extent of Shivaji), the impact of powadas becomes more distinguished. For it was the popularity of these ballads that—despite being unpublished at the time of their composition—ensured their survival through verbal accounts, and, after the unification of India by the British, went on to become the primary source for history.
It must from the outset be clarified that, while it is probable that the powadas twisted the overarching metanarrative of history through the portrayal of characters and themes that would make them palatable for balladry, the events in the songs are largely considered to be accurate. As Vasanta Rao in Side-Light on the Maratha Life from the Bardic Literature of the 18th Century puts it:
The composers of these ballads usually possessed a first hand and often personal knowledge of the incidents narrated and described by them and these compositions can be taken to be authentic records of the historical incidents narrated therein. (Rao 1197)
Indeed, Chapter 9 of Shivachhatrapati; the history textbook officially approved by the Maharashtra Secondary School Certificate for fourth graders; is chock-full of metaphors, allegories, symbols and characters that leads one to reasonably conclude its sourcing to be from a heroic ballad. The chapter, which narrates the defeat of Afzalkhan, may find its first source from The Death of Abdulkhan7 at the Hands of Shivaji Maharaja (henceforth The Death of Abdulkhan), the first hitherto extant powada composed either by Agrindas or Ajnandas in 1659. The retrieved copy for comparative analysis is an English translation of the powada by Acworth.
The narrative structure of Chapter 9 directly corresponds with the innumerable tropes of balladry—Badi Saheba’s theatrical challenge to a courtroom of sardars silent and scared of Shivaji, the giant and powerful Afzalkhan accepting the quest with confidence, the size of his army dwarfing that of Shivaji’s (thereby making the latter an underdog), the feigned cowardice from the Maratha monarch, the grandstand climactic encounter between the Goliath-esque Khan and the puny Shivaji under a majestic shamiana8, the deceitful Khan’s attempted murder foiled, the death of Afzalkhan with the waghnakh9, the timely intervention of Shivaji’s trusted bodyguard Jivaji Mahala to save his king’s life, and the subsequent rout of Afzalkhan’s army.
Many of these tropes are found in The Death of Abdulkhan. After a few stanzas of praising the might of Shivaji and his empire, the narrative begins with the summoning of the “valiant Moslem nobles” being similar to the textbook (Acworth 3). Interestingly, it is Adilshah—and not, as the textbook claims, the Dowager Queen—who challenges the sardars to wage war against the Maratha empire. One must assume that the common understanding of Badi Saheba’s challenge is derived from a later iteration of the powada.
Having said that, there are certainly more similarities than differences between the textbook and its source material. The symbolism of seizing the betel leaf from the salver, the pomp with which Afzalkhan departs, his desecration of the temples in Pandharpur and Tuljapur, the gesture of false friendliness toward Shivaji, etc. are present in both versions, either in abridged or elaborated forms. The Death of Abdulkhan, in addition, explores interesting facets that the textbook chooses to exclude, such as the thoughts of Shivaji on his absentee father, or the wisdom of Jijabai.
However, none of the modifications were as liberal as the whitewashed characterization of Shivaji in the textbook which, as expressed in great detail, remains crucial to the historical identity of the Marathas. Shivaji, in The Death of Abdulkhan, is portrayed as a cunning warrior-king as equally capable of deceit as his nemesis, for it must be noted that 17th century India had not identified treachery as a sign of extraordinary villainy inasmuch as it was considered the norm. With this context in mind, one can analyse the differences between the circumstances leading to the famous ‘embrace’ between Shivaji and Afzalkhan. While The Death of Abdulkhan recounts the events as Shivaji’s clever provocation…
‘Back to thy father’s oven! ‘Back to thy mother’s store! ‘Whose toothsome sweetmeats oft delight ‘The boys of Beejapore ‘Shall rajas brook the insult ‘Of thee—the baker’s son?
He look’d upon Abdulla, And knew his work was done. The Moslem leap’d upon him, (Acworth 10)
…the Maharashtra history textbook offers a quite different account of events:
[Shivaji’s] Vakil said, “He is afraid of Bada Sayyad. Please ask him to go away.” Bada Sayyad moved away and Shivaji stepped in. The Khan got up and said, “Come, Shivaji Raje, let us embrace each other as a mark of our friendship. […] Shivaji Maharaj cautiously took a step forward and the Khan took him in his embrace. (35)
It is certainly possible that this representation of Shivaji was derived from a later ballad composed on the same event. However, even if we assume that to be the case, the fact that the editors of the textbook were presented with both versions of the tale and, regardless, opted for the lesser controversial version (which would, in addition, be a later version) to make them more palatable for modern morality shows their intent to construct and preserve Shivaji’s image in a particular manner, of which the importance has already been stated. It is not only history textbooks, for even famous songs like Maharajanchi Kirti Befam preferred to narrate these version of events.
Indeed, from a cultural standpoint, the powadas that added to the fame of Shivaji in the 17th century acted as a touchstone and point of reference for the flourishing of both the Maratha administration and art. It must here be noted that, since Marathi heroic ballads that praised the conquests of their ruler constituted merely a fraction of Marathi songs, 18th and 19th century Maratha Empire had a greater geographical scope and varied cultural apparatuses to modify and metamorphose. The popularity of tamashas during the rule of the Peshwas was contingent upon the development of material conditions that were laid by powadas and the empire’s first monarch.
As time progressed and the inherently phallocentric and casteist notions behind tamashas became clearer (in which, for a long time, only women from Mahar or Kolhati10 castes were allowed to perform), powadas became instrumental in the mission of Phule’s Satyashodhak Samaj11. Their raging attacks on Brahmins, Hindu gods and the hegemonic influence of Indian tradition took Marathi entertainment back to their revolutionary roots. Subsequently, as tamashas sprouted into a branch of its own, from it developed the Ambedkari Jalsa12; which, of course, included powadas in its arsenal to teach the thoughts of Ambedkar to the commoners.
This is not to suggest that without the powadas of the 17th century, the domino effect of events that followed—and, subsequently, partly asserted both the medieval and modern Maratha identity—would have been impossible. It is likely that, if not the powadas, the anti-Muhammadan sentiment would have manifested itself in other popular art forms, which would then have developed at the same rate of the powadas. Be that as it may, the fact of the constant recurrence of powadas in important junctures of Maharashtra’s past, ensures the convenient recovery and retelling of Maratha history for contemporary times.
It was why contemporary narrations of Maratha history which relied on these powadas became as propagandist as the powadas themselves; the difference being that while the ballads of the 17th century fostered a patriotic spirit in their present out of necessity and sincerity, the histories of today were constructed to fossilize and preserve these very tales, as an affirmation of medieval Maratha history and culture. What the motives were for the twisting of the metanarrative by the state is the task of the cultural theorist, and somewhat tangential to this discussion.
For, amidst all this, the crucial role of powadas in its germinating years cannot be understated. It has been acknowledged that, had these unwritten songs not possessed its alliterations, jingling rhymes or repetitions; thus enabling an easy remembrance that would span across generations; the likelihood of these events being forgotten before the methodical recording of canonical history would have been high. Therefore, apart from laying the material foundations for the emergence of a Chhatrapati, the powadas also preserved the very tales that would, centuries after, aid archaeologists in uncovering the necessary tools for the construction of the archetypal historical Maratha hero.
Footnotes
1. Traditionally, abhangs constituted of Marathi devotional songs that were rendered in simple and native style for the understanding of a mass gathering of commoners. Today, they are also often read as poetry.
2. While lavnis could be translated as ‘love-songs’ and identified by its folksy nature of song, dance and swift rhythm, they have often since their inception faced criticism for their licentious and erotic nature.
3. The name Gondhali is derived the dance form of gondhal, and denotes the members of a Maharashtrian community primarily of the kunbi (cultivator) caste.
4. Tamashas, prior to its complicated development and prominence in Marathi theatre, was an art form involving rapturous, colourful song and dance. ‘Tamasha’ is derived from Persian connoting a spectacle or entertainment.
5. Lalitas (tr. ‘pleasure’) are an ancient form of folk plays that, by dramatizing scenes from ancient Indian epics and scriptures, combine devotion with spectacle.
6. In Indian mythology, Goddess Amba Bhavani is considered an incarnation of Parvati, the wife of Shiva the Destroyer. The traditional gondhal dance is meant to worship her.
7. Afzalkhan was also known as ‘Afzul Khan’ or ‘Abdulkhan’.
8. Shamiana (n.) A colourful tent or canopy, often with open sides.
9. Wagnakh (n.) A steel claw-like weapon resembling a tiger’s paw.
10. Both Mahar and Kolhati communities tend to consist of low-caste commoners frequently part of tamasha troupes.
11. Founded by Jyotirao Phule in 1873, the Satyashodhak Samaj i.e. Truth-Seeking Society was a social reform organization that, among other things, fought for the social rights of disadvantaged groups in Maharashtra; particularly women and caste minorities. Savitribai Phule, Jyotirao’s wife, led the Samaj’s women section.
12. The Ambedkari Jalsa, which rose in prominence in the 1930s, promoted the teachings of Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar in oral and songlike form. It included singing, staging plays and presenting monologues. The main proponent of the jalsa, Bhmrao Kardak, was praised by Ambedkar for his effect. “Ten of my meetings and gatherings are equal to one jalsa by Kardak and his troupe” (Maitreya – Dalit Shahirs of Maharashtra)
Originally written: 12 April 2020
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