Inside the Curious Mind of Akbar: The Great Mughal Emperor

 

A Dialogue Between Faith and Power

 

Maria: Hello Sophia! Today, we're going on an incredible journey into the mind of one of history's most fascinating rulers: Jalal-ud-Din Muhammad Akbar, the Great Mughal Emperor. He ascended the throne in 1556 at just 13 years old, inheriting a nascent kingdom that he would transform into one of the most glorious, richest, and, crucially, religiously tolerant empires globally. His greatest achievement as a ruler was, in the words of Sir Laurence Binyon,  “to weld this collection of different states, different races, different religions, into a whole.”

 

Sophia: That sounds interesting. But how did he do that?

Maria: Through his policy of Sulh-i-Kul (universal peace, or peace with/for all). He was, no doubt, a brave fighter, an able commander, and a sharp war strategist. But it was this policy that helped him consolidate and sustain the empire. A sword only knows how to pierce hearts. To win hearts, Akbar adopted Sulh-i-Kul.

 

Sophia: Sulh-i-Kul? Amazing!

Maria: Imagine if he had imposed by force his Muslim-minority faith over a vast non-Muslim majority…

Sophia: That would have been a disaster! That would have led to protests, rebellions, and violence.

Maria: Exactly. Governing a vast empire of diverse ethnic, linguistic, and religious groups demanded administrative prowess, intellectual ingenuity, moral courage, a unifying spirit, and a tolerant attitude.

 

Sophia: That sounds incredibly forward-thinking. What was the world like when he took power in the mid-16^th century? Were other empires also thinking this way, or was he unique?

Maria: That’s a brilliant starting point. To truly appreciate Akbar’s unique approach, we must understand the turbulent religious landscape of the 16^th century. Across Europe, Asia, and India, it was a time of profound transformation, tension, and ferment.

In Europe, it was reeling from the Protestant Reformation, which had begun in 1517 and had utterly fractured the unity of Western Christendom. The continent was sharply divided between various strands of Protestantism in the north and a dominant, but vigorously reforming, Catholicism in the south. The Society of Jesus, or Jesuits, formally recognised in 1540, were already dispatching missionaries globally, including to India, with the first mission arriving in Goa in 1542. Goa, by the time Akbar took power, was the spiritual and administrative heart of Catholic Asia. Europe itself was embroiled in religious wars, sectarian persecutions, and doctrinal disputes, with religion often used as a tool of statecraft. The Council of Trent (1545–1563) was ongoing, defining Catholic doctrine.

Across Asia, powerful empires like the Ottoman Empire and the Safavid Empire wielded religion for legitimacy and were locked in intense theological and military rivalries. The Ottomans, under Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, were the preeminent Sunni Islamic power, promoting Sunni orthodoxy and viewing Sufi orders with suspicion. In contrast, the Safavid dynasty in Persia, under Shah Tahmasp I, had made Twelver Shi'ism the official state religion, actively persecuting Sunnis. Further east, in Central Asia, Islam was shaped by Turkic traditions and Sufi mysticism, a legacy that heavily influenced the Mughals. China was Confucian but pluralistic with Buddhism and Daoism, while Japan was in a period of warring states, with Christian missionaries beginning to arrive.

And in India itself, the religious topography was deeply plural, shaped by centuries of coexistence, conquest, and cultural exchange. Hinduism was experiencing a Bhakti resurgence, with poets like Kabir and Tulsidas challenging caste hierarchies and appealing to both Hindus and Muslims. Islam in India was diverse, with a Sunni Mughal elite but significant Shia populations and influential Sufi orders like the Chishti, whose shrines drew both Hindus and Muslims. Jainism was strong in Gujarat and Rajasthan, with influential monastic leaders, while Zoroastrians, though few, were prominent in trading ports. The Portuguese had firmly established themselves in Goa by 1510, turning it into a hub of Catholic evangelization and even establishing the Goa Inquisition in 1560 to ensure orthodoxy.

So, Akbar stepped into a subcontinent brimming with sacred pluralism, ritual intermingling, sectarian tension, and imperial experimentation. It was a world ripe for both conflict and, as Akbar would show, remarkable interreligious dialogue.

To quote Sir Laurence Binyon, “While in Europe the disputants burnt or massacred one another in their zeal, and devastated whole countries in the name of religion, here in India a restraining power prevented arguments from ending in the use of swords: here was a monarch who actually believed in toleration.”

 

Sophia: That's an incredible overview, Teacher! It sounds like the world was a powder keg. Given that, how did Akbar, as a young, unlettered emperor, even begin to think about religious tolerance?

Maria: That's a crucial point. Many historians believe Akbar’s own upbringing and early environment played a significant role.

Akbar’s religious education was overseen by figures like Mir Abdul Latif, a Persian scholar who exposed him to Persian literary traditions emphasising religious tolerance and philosophical inquiry. Even his regent, Bairam Khan, a Shi'a noble in a Sunni court, demonstrated a political pragmatism and religious flexibility that served as an early model for Akbar.

Some historians believe the Taimuri cultural ethos of discouraging religious bigotry, which, in itself, was influenced by cultural codes of Changez Khan, also affected the traditional values of Taimuri successors down to Akbar.

Unlike many of his contemporaries, Akbar was exposed to religious diversity from childhood. His court included Hindu Rajput nobles, Persian Shi'a administrators, Central Asian Sunni military commanders, and Indian Muslim scholars. This cosmopolitan environment "created conditions conducive to religious experimentation and synthesis".

Interestingly, his illiteracy might have enhanced his open-mindedness. Unable to read orthodox texts independently, he relied on oral instruction from diverse sources, which prevented any single theological tradition from dominating his education. He famously told the Jesuit missionary Rudolph Aquaviva, "I take from each religion that which is best in it".

 

Sophia: That's fascinating! So, he was open to all religions from the beginning?

Maria: No. The story is complex and still confounds historians. Modern research suggests that his early teachers were above sectarian prejudices, and his lack of traditional education developed in him an inquisitive mind. But, despite that, he started as a conventional orthodox Muslim.

 

Sophia: I am confused.

Maria: So are historians. You are not alone. His journey wasn't linear; it evolved through distinct phases:

Phase I: Orthodox Sunni Period (1556-1575): Initially, Akbar’s reign followed conventional Islamic patterns. He performed daily prayers, observed Ramadan, and issued coins with orthodox Islamic formulations. The ulema, or religious scholars, held significant influence, and Islamic law (Sharia) formed the basis of legal proceedings. Even Badauni, an orthodox Muslim who later became a fierce critic of Akbar and his policies, had to say about the emperor’s religious attitude at this stage, “His Majesty spent whole nights in praising God,… and from a feeling of thankfulness for his past successes, he would sit many of mornings alone in prayer and meditation on a large flat stone of an old building which lay near the palace in a lonely spot, with his head bent over his chest, gathering the bliss of the early hours.”

According to Iqtidar Alam Khan, a Mughal historian, the state policy from 1560 to 1575 often accommodated the prejudices of Muslim theologians who “goaded him to be harsh and sectarian towards nonbelievers as well as the so-called heretics.” He also allowed exhumation of the dead body of Shia Aalim, Mīr Murtazā Shīrāzī, from the proximity of Amīr Khusaru’s tomb (in 1566), on the plea by Shaikh Abdul Nabi that a ‘heretic’ could not be allowed to remain interred so close to the grave of a Sunni scholar. Badauni tells us that, during this phase, Akbar issued land grants to theologians on an unprecedented scale.

We also hear from Badauni that during the siege of Kangra in 1572/73, under Raja Birbal, Mughal soldiers killed cows herded together within the main temple and desecrated its sacred precincts. If this incident had occurred after the 1580s, it would have invited Akbar’s wrath. Yet, as noted by Iqtidar Alam Khan, “as late as 1573, even a highly placed Hindu noble like Birbal did not feel confident enough to take measures for preventing such display of bigotry by soldiers under his command.”

Phase II: The Period of Questioning (1575-1582): This period was marked by a crucial turning point – the construction of the Ibadat Khana, or House of Worship, at Fatehpur Sikri in 1575. Initially, it was meant for Islamic theological discussions, but, gradually, he invited scholars from various religions as Abul Fazl, Akbar’s court historian tells us, his "enlightened mind was not satisfied with one path of inquiry." Even during the early years of this phase, he remained an orthodox Muslim. He paid all the expenses of the caravan that departed for Haj in 983 AH (1576-77 AD). He issued a farman that every pilgrim would get his expenses from the state treasury. He also appointed a Haj superintendent and gave him six lacs in cash and kind, twelve hundred dresses, and numerous presents to be distributed at Makkah and Medina. He sent jewelled dresses for the noblemen of Makkah and issued orders to build a Khanqah for Indian pilgrims.

It's, however, during the debates among Muslim ulema at the Ibadat Khana that he grew weary of orthodox beliefs and practices. Muslim ulema disagreed over basic Islamic doctrines, often disputed sources of religious authority, hurled abuses at one another for biddat (innovation), and accused each other of heresy and blasphemy. Each aalim (scholar) claimed authenticity for his daleel (argument, reason), which others did not accept. Badauni further informs us that the ulema often quarrelled over insignificant matters like seating arrangement and order of precedence. Another source informs us that Ulema sometimes used their hands (i.e. fight) when their tongues and words failed to agree upon an issue. Badauni shares a similar incident, “His Majesty got very angry at their rude behavior, and said to me (Badauni), ‘In future report any of the ‘Ulamas that cannot behave and talk nonsense, and I shall make him leave the hall.’ I gently said to Asaf Khan, ‘If I were to carry out this order, most of Ulamas would have to leave.”

During this period, Akbar also came under the influence of pantheistic ideas of Sufism. Iqtidar Alam Khan notes, “the idea suggested by Ibn al-'Arabi that all which is not a part of divine reality is an illusion, in turn, led Akbar to the notion that all religions are either equally true or equally illusionary.”

Akbar’s disillusionment with the narrow-mindedness and political ambitions of orthodox ulema became evident, particularly their opposition to his administrative reforms. This culminated in the famous Mahzar, or Declaration of Infallibility, in 1579, which established the emperor as the final arbiter in religious disputes, a decisive break with orthodox Islamic governance.

Phase III: The Synthetic Period (1582-1605): This phase saw the promulgation of a syncretic system, drawing elements from Islam, Hinduism, Christianity, Zoroastrianism, and Jainism. Its core principles reflected Akbar’s mature philosophy: monotheism, religious tolerance, moral conduct, and the emperor as both spiritual and temporal leader.

 

Sophia: So, the Ibadat Khana was really the catalyst for this transformation. What exactly happened in that House of Worship? Did all these diverse religious leaders really sit together and debate? And what was the immediate impact on the existing Islamic scholars?

Maria: Excellent question! The Ibadat Khana was indeed the crucible where his ideas were forged. It was constructed as a neutral arena for truth-seeking, inaugurated in 1575.

Initially, the debates focused on Islamic theological discussions. Akbar would sit at the centre, surrounded by scholars like Shaikh Abdun Nabi (the conservative Qazi), Makhdum-ul-Mulk (a powerful Sunni jurist), and Shaikh Mubarak (a moderate philosopher and father of Abul Fazl).

Imagine Akbar firing questions to Muslim clerics on their basic sources of faith. This deeply unsettled scholars like Makhdum-ul-Mulk, who struggled to defend tradition against Akbar's sharp inquiries. Even Badauni, a fierce critic of Akbar, noted that "His Majesty’s questions were sharper than swords. The learned doctors were reduced to stammering".

Now, imagine another scene: Akbar brought up a fatwa issued by a local Qazi condemning Shi’as as heretics. He asked, "Who among you can deny that this leads only to hatred and bloodshed?". He questioned the very idea of sectarian exclusivity, stating, "If every sect claims to be the only light, is the sun itself not accused of being a heretic?".

Imagine yet another scene: When Sufi disciples spoke of "the heart as the throne of God" and that "legal rulings are bones; the spirit is the flesh," orthodox scholars like Abdun Nabi accused them of heresy. Akbar, fascinated by this paradox, asked, "Does law without love not turn into tyranny? Does love without discipline not become madness?".

Once, after a heated session, Makhdum-ul-Mulk approached Akbar privately and said, “Your Majesty's quest for truth is admirable, but I fear these discussions are leading us away from the path of righteousness rather than toward it.” Akbar leaned forward: “Respected Makhdum, if our faith cannot withstand honest questioning, then perhaps it is our understanding of faith, rather than faith itself, that needs correction.”

By 1578, these internal Muslim debates had become "fierce and fragmented". The Muslim scholars were shouting, interrupting, and even accusing each other of apostasy. Akbar began to "lose patience with the squabbling ulema". It was this disillusionment that led him to his fateful decision: to invite non-Muslim scholars to participate, hoping for "fresher perspectives". This marked a monumental shift, as Badauni recorded, "When the Muslim scholars failed to agree among themselves... His Majesty gave orders to bring the learned men of other faiths to the House of Worship". This was the beginning of the true multi-religious symposiums.

 

Sophia: So, once the doors opened to non-Muslims, who were the first to enter, and what were those initial debates like?

Maria: The first major external dialogue, and a deeply significant one, was with Hindu scholars in late 1578.

Imagine this: It was a crisp Thursday night in the Ibadat Khana. On one side sat the Sunni ulema, like Makhdum-ul-Mulk. On the other, three Brahmin scholars from Banaras: Purushottam, Devi, and Chaturbhuj Das. Akbar, dressed in plain white robes, sat as "a master of inquiry, not of judgment".

The first debate is about Monotheism vs. Polytheism: Makhdum-ul-Mulk immediately challenged Hinduism as "polytheism (shirk)," calling it "the greatest of sins". But Purushottam calmly responded, "We do not say that God is many. Rather, we see many forms through which the One expresses Himself... as the same sun shines through many windows". Akbar then asked, "So your gods are like reflections of a single flame?" Devi, an Advaita Vedanta philosopher, elaborated that the divine is formless (nirguna) but can take form (saguna) for seekers. When Makhdum-ul-Mulk scowled, "Then why worship stone and wood?", Chaturbhuj Das countered with subtle sarcasm, "And why do you turn to the Kaaba…? Is not direction, too, a form of focus?".

Other debates revolved around revelations vs. Vedic knowledge, and afterlife vs. reincarnation. When Muslim scholars dismissed others’ beliefs as fiction, Akbar observed: "Truth wears many garments. Why must she wear only Arabic robes?". Listening to differing views of religious scholars, Akbar, again, said, "Are these ideas so different? One believes in a straight road, the other in a spiral. Both end in union — or punishment".

This night was a turning point. It was the first time non-Muslims had publicly debated with Islamic orthodoxy in a Mughal court. Abul Fazl reported that Akbar "listens with equal attention to the Quran and to the Veda", while Badauni lamented that "These infidels walked boldly into our sacred court and were praised!". Even later Jesuit letters referred to these debates as “unheard of in Asia”.

 

Sophia: Who else did Akbar invite to these debates?

Maria: Akbar invited the Jain monks of Gujarat, specifically their spiritual leader, Acharya Hiravijaya Suri, from the Shwetambara sect. Akbar was increasingly interested in ethical self-control, and was searching for "a way of kingship not dependent on the sword".

Now imagine the scene: Hiravijaya Suri, clad in pristine white and barefoot, sat cross-legged, his mouth covered to prevent harm to insects. The topic was "Is the ideal ruler one who renounces violence — or one who wields it with justice?".

The Acharya declared, "O Padshah! The dharma of kingship is incomplete without ahimsa... Let the sword be sheathed when compassion can win". When Akbar questioned how an emperor could rule without war, the Acharya clarified that ahimsa begins in the heart. Akbar's public response was profound: "Perhaps the sword has ruled long enough. I wish now to rule the spirit".

Akbar was fascinated by Jain practices and asked about their unstitched clothes, barefoot walking, and their concept of God. Hiravijaya Suri explained, “We wear no stitched cloth to avoid harm to life; we walk barefoot to remember the pain of others; and as for God, we speak not of a creator but of the perfected soul (siddha) who conquers desire and death.”

Unlike other debates, this one led to concrete changes in policy: Akbar issued edicts banning animal slaughter during Jain festivals and in Jain-populated regions. He temporarily adopted a vegetarian diet and reduced meat in the palace. He prohibited fishing in court-controlled rivers and animal fights. He began a practice of regularly releasing caged birds and animals, stating, "They, too, are my subjects".

 

Sophia: Did he invite Zoroastrian priests too?

Maria: Akbar also turned to the ancient faith of the Magi, inviting Zoroastrian priests, or Parsis, in 1580. He was intrigued by their use of fire, sacred cords, and emphasis on cosmic struggle. The delegation was led by Dastur Meherji Rana, the high priest of Navsari.

Imagine this debate: The Ibadat Khana was transformed with a symbolic ritual fire lit in a metal brazier. Akbar, himself in saffron robes, welcomed Dastur Meherji Rana.

The topic: Worship of Fire and the Divine. Qazi Jalaluddin immediately questioned their "fire-worshipping" as idolatry. Dastur Meherji calmly explained, "The flame is not God. It is the symbol of purity, the visible face of the divine light (Ahura Mazda). Just as you turn to the Kaaba, we turn to fire — the cleanest of all creation".

Akbar then keenly observed, "If the flame is pure, does it not also consume? Is not destruction the sibling of creation?". Meherji Rana responded, “Indeed, Padshah. That is the law of dualism — light and darkness, good and evil, locked in struggle. But it is not a war of hate. It is a war for balance.”

Fascinated by the strict purity rules of Parsis, Akbar asked, “Why so many washings? Why such care for urine, hair, fire?” Meherji Rana explained, “To be clean in body is the first step to being clean in soul. When we treat fire or water with reverence, we are training the self to respect all things.”

Akbar then asked about Ahriman, the spirit of darkness, and why an all-powerful God allows evil. Meherji Rana replied, “Because Ahura Mazda does not destroy — He illuminates. Evil is a test, not an enemy. When the soul resists Ahriman, it earns truth.”

Akbar listened intently and then asked, “So even the king must wrestle with his inner darkness?”

The Dastur bows, “Especially the king, Huzoor. For if the ruler is not pure, the land falls into shadow.”

 

Sophia: So, his curiosity really knew no bounds! And you mentioned Jesuits earlier – were they invited too, considering they were quite new to India at the time?

Maria: His fascination with other religions eventually led him to invite Christian priests from Goa. In early 1579, Akbar sent a formal invitation to the Portuguese, asking for learned Christian priests to explain their religion. He explicitly stated, "Send unto us such men who know your scriptures and your God, so that we too may weigh your truth".

This initiated three formal Jesuit missions to his court:

First Mission (1580–1583) was Led by Father Rudolf Acquaviva, accompanied by Father Antonio Monserrate (the chronicler) and Brother Francis Henriques. They arrived in February 1580, bringing gifts like a Bible, a portrait of the Virgin Mary, and a crucifix. Akbar showed great reverence for these gifts, even placing the Gospel to his head.

During the first debate, Akbar challenged them: "Explain to us how three can be one, and one can be three — and how God can be born of a woman?"

Acquaviva explained, “Just as the sun has heat, light, and mass — and yet is one — so too the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are three persons of one divine substance.”

During another debate, Akbar asked, "If Christ rose from the dead, why did not all follow him? Why did he not live forever?" Acquaviva's poetic reply was, "Because he came not to live, but to die — that others may live".

The second Jesuit Mission (1591–1592) came almost a decade later. It was brief and ended abruptly.  Akbar linked science and theology, bringing together Jain mathematicians, Muslim astronomers, and Jesuits to debate eclipses and planetary motion.

The third Jesuit Mission (1595–1605) was led by Father Jerome Xavier. A major achievement during this mission was the translation of the Gospels into Persian, titled "Dastan-e-Masih" (The Story of the Messiah), supervised by Jerome Xavier. Akbar himself read portions and asked for explanations.

The Jesuits became respected presences, contributing to imperial literary salons. Jerome Xavier's "Mirat-ul-Quds" (Mirror of Holiness), a biography of Jesus, was widely read by nobles. Despite constant access to Christian teaching, Akbar never converted, nor did he reject Islam. His final worldview was syncretic, ethical, and imperial. He stated, "I seek no conversion — only understanding. Let each man love his path, and let no man compel another".

 

Sophia: That’s such a powerful statement. It sounds like these external dialogues helped him refine his policy of Sulh-i-Kil, but what about the internal tensions within Islam itself? How did his increasing spiritual sovereignty affect the Sunni and Shia scholars within his own court?

Maria: While Akbar was engaging with external faiths, the internal dynamics within Islam in his court were also extremely fraught, especially between Sufis and orthodox ulema, and between Sunnis and Shias. The Ibadat Khana, initially for Muslim debates, quickly exposed these deep fissures.

Let’s, first, discuss Sufi-Orthodox Islamic Tensions. Akbar increasingly invited Sufi thinkers, like Shaikh Mubarak (Abul Fazl’s father), and Chishti and Qadiri disciples. He questioned whether "obedience to the law alone lead to God — or is there a station beyond law, where only love remains?".

Shaikh Mubarak famously quoted the Sufi poet Jami: "The law is the candle — but love is the flame. What is the use of wax, if no fire lights it?". This enraged orthodox scholars like Abdun Nabi, who saw it as heresy. Akbar responded by asking, "If law is the body, perhaps love is the soul. Are they not both required?".

Akbar increasingly embraced a mystical view of kingship, influenced by Ibn Arabi’s theory of the "Perfect Man," stating, "The perfect king must have within him the light of the perfect saint". This, naturally, appalled the Qazis, who accused him of blasphemy.

Now, we turn to Shia–Sunni Theological Disputes. Akbar’s court saw a growing number of Persian Shia immigrants and intellectuals. He opened the Ibadat Khana to discussions on fundamental differences, such as the Imamate (Shia concept of divinely appointed leadership) versus the Caliphate (Sunni concept of historically elected leadership).

Mirza Yusuf Husaini, a Shia theologian, argued for Ali's rightful succession based on the Prophet's declaration at Ghadir Khumm. Sunni scholars like Makhdum-ul-Mulk angrily countered that the Companions had elected Abu Bakr.

Akbar was particularly intrigued by the Shia concept of the Hidden Imam and the practice of Taqiyya (concealing faith for survival). When he questioned if concealing belief was a lie, Mirza Yusuf replied, "A lie that preserves life is not treachery, but wisdom. The truth of the heart is not always for every ear."

In a remarkable gesture, Akbar personally attended a Shia mourning gathering for Imam Husayn's martyrdom at Karbala in 1582, even shedding tears and questioning the justice of killing the Prophet's family.

By the mid-1580s, Akbar began promoting a form of Islam that was non-sectarian, ethical, philosophical, and deeply influenced by Sufism and comparative religious learning. He discouraged sectarian labels, calling himself a "seeker of truth" (mujtahid-i waqt), and declared that no community held a monopoly on salvation.

 

Sophia: So, Akbar was essentially dismantling the traditional religious authority structure and carving out his own spiritual path. How did all these dialogues – from Hindus, Jains, Zoroastrians, Jesuits, Sufis, and Shias – culminate in Din-i-Ilahi? What was its ultimate form and legacy?

Maria: After years of intense interfaith debates, Akbar concluded that no single faith could contain all truth. Perhaps, he was influenced by Ibn al-Arabi’s idea that all that is not part of divine reality is an illusion, which, Iqtidar Alam Khan says, led Akbar to believe that either all religions are equally true or equally illusionary.  However, he did not coin the term “Din-i-Ilahi.” The term attributed to him is “Tauhid-i-Ilahi” (monotheism, divine unity, or oneness of God). But was it a religion? Modern historians dispute it. It had no priest, no place of worship, no successor. It was more like a loyalty club consisting of fewer than 20 members who took a vow to be always on the side of the emperor. Except for Bir Bal, all the members were Muslim and continued to practice their original religion as usual. If Tauhid-i-Ilahi had really been meant as a religion, many of his family members, courtiers, and commoners would have embraced it to gain favors from the emperor. Some members of this club died while Akbar was alive, but he did not induct more to increase his following.

Historians debate whether it was a "cult," a "rationalist ethical order," or a "political-theological instrument". What's clear is that Akbar never called himself a prophet. He famously said, “Why should I claim to guide men, before I myself am guided?”

Further testimony to the idea that Tauhi-i-Ilahi was not a religion comes from Akbar’s discussion with Man Singh, one of his trusted military generals. Without mincing words, Man Singh said, “If Your Majesty means by the term of member, willingness to sacrifice one’s life, I have given pretty clear proofs, and Your Majesty might dispense with examining me; if the term has another meaning, and refers to religion, surely I am a Hindu. And if I am to become a Muhammadan, Your Majesty ought to say so – but besides Hinduism and Islam, I know of no other religion.”

Though Tauhid-i-Ilahi died with the death of Akbar, its legacy is profound: it remains one of the most radical interfaith experiments in world history, inspiring Persianate universalist ethics, Sufi-Hindu syncretism, and models of interreligious dialogue. As Abul Fazl aptly put it: "The Emperor is not a man of sects, but a man of the soul. He does not worship forms, but the Formless".

 

Sophia: It's astonishing how he tried to create a unifying vision in such a divided world. I suppose this is why his reign is still so widely studied and debated.

Maria: Precisely. His reign, and particularly his religious inquiries, continue to be a mirror reflecting many truths. The varied contemporary accounts – the eulogies of Abul Fazl, the bitter laments of Badauni, the curious observations of the Jesuits, and the varied Indian religious literatures – all offer fragments that allow us to reconstruct a moment where a sovereign dared to imagine a world not bound by one creed, but enriched by many. As Akbar himself is said to have remarked, "In the garden of religion, every flower has its own scent, its own hue, and its own place beneath the sun". His vision was both pragmatic and profoundly spiritual, attempting to build an empire of the heart, not just of the sword.

Sophia: Sulh-i-Kul seems to me an administrative policy to accommodate diverse groups for better and just governance. And if Tauhid-i-Ilahi, as you say, was not a religion, what was his religion then? What did he believe in?

Maria: Followers of each faith believed Akbar had converted to their religion. He was labelled as a Jain, Hindu, Parsi, Sikh, Sufi, Christian, apostate, and atheist. But his true faith remained hidden. To quote Bartoli, Akbar “never gave anybody the chance to understand rightly his inmost sentiments or to know what faith or religion he held by.”

But whatever he was, we are certain he was not an atheist, as he believed in strict monotheism. And he did not let anyone impose their faith on others. In one of his letters, Father Monserrate, a Jesuit missionary who made several failed attempts to convert Akbar, describes the emperor’s view, "I perceive that there are varying customs and beliefs of varying religious paths. For the teachings of the Hindus, the Musalmans, the Jazdini, the Jews and the Christians are all different. But the followers of each religion regard the institutions of their own religion as better than those of any other. Not only so, but they strive to convert the rest to their own way of belief. If these refuse to be converted, they not only despise them, but also regard them for this very reason as their enemies. And this causes me to feel many serious doubts and scruples.” He issued a farman, “No man should be interfered with on account of religion, and anyone is to be allowed to go over to a religion that pleases him.”