Citadel of Din Panah, City of Humayun, New Delhi.
The double-storied Sher Mandal Tower.
On the 24th of January in 1556, Humayun, aged 47, was at peace. His bitter trials and exhausting wars to regain his father’s empire had gained him more territory than he set out to conquer. An expansive one million square kilometre area that stretched from Afghanistan in the west to the city of Agra in the east, with its wealth and manpower, lay at his disposal with no serious contender left to challenge his rule. After years of trial and tribulations, he had once more become the most powerful man in northern India.
Fate it seemed was, at last, smiling upon Humayun.
Formidable opponents like Sher Shah Sur, an Afghan commander who had driven the Gurkani out of what is now the present-day country of India, for a period of fifteen years, and his son Islam Shah, had both passed away, sparing Humayun the trouble of mustering his will and forces to engage in a long drawn out conflict – the outcome of which he could not predict. Their successor Sikander Shah Sur had opposed him with a large force but a feigned retreat and a fierce counter-attack had won the day, allowing him, Humayun, to retake what was his. Six months prior, he had marched at the head of a triumphant army into his former citadel of Dinpanah (See Dinpanah, city of Humayun) in Delhi and immediately set about completing unfinished projects that lay untended during his absence.
The Sher Mandal was given top priority, by Humayun.
Built entirely of red sandstone, the double-storied rubble structure was originally intended to be a pleasure tower but Humayun, being the scholar he was, had it furnished as a library and an observatory. Ordering the masons to work, he had equipped the tower with stone shelves to contain his many books and decorated the interior with embellishments in plaster as per his taste. A dedicated student of astronomy he had looked forward to spending his evenings observing the heavens above and his days discussing matters of the state with courtiers.
Events that led to Humayun’s death.
The evening on the 24th wasn’t any different from those that had preceded it. No prophecy of doom or bad omen had painted the twilight hour with warning signs and Humayun in good cheer was in his precious Sher Mandal among his beloved books. Like most men are unaware of their exact moment of death, he too had stood on the first floor of the tower least aware of the event to follow – and an event Gurkani chroniclers would later describe as an accident.
As the evening had approached and the Iman from the nearby mosque had signalled the hour for prayers, Humayun standing by the staircase had taken a knee in obeisance. When he had tried to stand up, however, his foot had become entangled in the robe he was wearing and he had tumbled down the narrow and steep staircase, smashing his head on the edge of a rough stone at the bottom. Brain trauma had him unconscious almost immediately and he had been bedridden for the next two days.
On the third, the 27th of January in 1556, Humayun had succumbed to his injuries, leaving his son, Akbar, as his sole successor.
What modern historians think.
Modern-day historians have largely regarded the event as an act of fate than that of man. Humayun was an emperor and would have been surrounded by hand-picked bodyguards and men of trust. Getting close to him would have been next to impossible. Moreover, written records of the time make no mention of plots on the life of the emperor.
The Humayun-Nama by Humayun’s half-sister Gulbadan Begum and the Tazkirat-ul-Waqiat by his attendant of 25 years, Jahur the Aftabchi, in particular, are two genuine accounts that faithfully unveil the life and misfortunes of the emperor. Both were written by people who loved Humayun dearly. Yet no mention of foul play is to be found.
Although, and while, the only existing copy of the Humayun-Nama, presently with the British Museum, technically does not qualify as it ends four years before the death of Humayun in mid-sentence, and is considered to be incomplete by scholars.
The Tazkirat-ul-Waqiat is considered intact and admired as a more powerful piece of historical work despite its inconsistencies. In its undecorative words too, there exists no mention of murder.