Correcting' historical wrongs is a slippery slope

In 1654, the future Mughal emperor Aurangzeb issued a set of strict instructions to one of his sons.

- Manu S Pillai

The prince was to wake up 72 minutes before sunrise, commanded the father. He had 48 minutes thereafter for his toilet and bodily business, followed by prayer and breakfast. If he were on the road, he was to mount his horse 48 minutes after sunrise, and make sure he crossed every assigned post on his route punctually. Time was also allocated for correspondence, reading poetry, "improving your handwriting", and holding an audience with leading officials and courtiers. At the end of the day, another round of prayer was to follow, until at 9 pm, as per Aurangzeb's wishes, the prince was to tuck himself into bed. This way the young man would not only form solid habits, but also project a fitting picture of royal character.

Nobody could accuse Aurangzeb of being a disordered individual. What he is often accused of being, however, is the worst of the Mughals: a bigot, a cruel tyrant, a usurper, and a textbook villain. Some of these charges ring true—Aurangzeb himself was sensitive to the fact that he had seized his father's throne, on account of which rival powers such as the Persians lampooned him. A good part of his pronounced piety may even have been designed to rebrand this tainted kingly image. But what rouses heated debate and emotional aggravation in India, centuries after his death, is his religious policy and the violence people associate with his reign. At the moment, for instance, some politicians in Maharashtra wish to flatten his grave and cast his bones into the sea—just the kind of original thinking one desires in politicians, apparently.