A Hindu King in an Islamicate World: Recovering Krishnadevaraya and the Diverse Roots of Religious Accommodation in South Asia
In our contemporary landscape, history has sadly become a battlefield.
Across India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, the medieval past is frequently
reimagined through the prism of modern communal polarization. There is a
dominant narrative that seeks to portray the pre-colonial era as a monolithic
"clash of civilizations," pitting an indigenous Hindu resistance
against an encroaching Islamic imperialism.
When we encounter this narrative, we often find ourselves reaching for
examples of tolerance. We invoke the great Emperor Ashoka (r. 268-232 BCE),
whose dhamma promoted religious harmony after the Kalinga War. Or we
turn to Emperor Akbar (r. 1556-1605), who abolished discriminatory taxes,
established sulh-i-kul (universal peace), and integrated Hindus into
Mughal governance. These examples are absolutely valid and vital.
But friends, this reliance on Ashoka and Akbar inadvertently leaves a
historical vacuum. What happens when we look for examples of pluralism among
Hindu rulers? The "liberal" response risks ceding the history of
Hindu kingship entirely to those who wish to paint it solely in colors of
religious militancy, implicitly suggesting that "good" tolerant
rulers were either Buddhist or Muslim, while Hindu rulers were inherently
sectarian.
Today, we’ll challenge that narrow view. We are here to provide a more
honest and constructive history by turning our gaze to the Deccan Plateau in
the 16th century, specifically to the reign of Krishnadevaraya (r. 1509–1529)
of the Vijayanagara Empire. We will position him, where he truly belongs,
alongside Ashoka and Akbar as a third pillar of Indian pluralism.
Deconstructing
the “Crusader” Myth
Popular historiography, heavily influenced by colonial writers, has long
cast Vijayanagara as the "last bastion" of Hinduism—a bulwark erected
solely to stem the tide of Islamic expansion. Through this lens,
Krishnadevaraya is celebrated merely as a defender of the faith (Dharma),
and his wars are interpreted as religious crusades.
But does this simplistic "Crusader" myth hold up when
subjected to rigorous historical scrutiny? No, it crumbles immediately. This
narrative conflates the King’s personal piety with his public statecraft,
ignoring the complex geopolitical reality of the Deccan.
The "Crusader" myth relies on a binary rejection of the
"Other". Yet, the historical Krishnadevaraya was a ruler who actively
embraced the "Other" to strengthen his state. Look at Hampi, his
capital: it was not a hermetically sealed Hindu citadel. It was a cosmopolitan
global hub where Portuguese horse traders, Persian envoys, and Muslim
mercenaries mingled freely with Brahmin ministers and Telugu poets.
My primary objective today is to argue that Krishnadevaraya’s success
was not rooted in religious exclusion, but in a pragmatic "cosmopolitan
sovereignty". He did not reject the Islamic world; instead, he engaged
with it deeply, adopting its military technology, administrative titles, and
even courtly dress to project himself as a modern, universal monarch (Chakravartin).
As historian Phillip B. Wagoner noted, the Vijayanagara elite participated in a
process of "Islamicate acculturation," viewing the Persianate culture
of their neighbors not as a religious threat, but as a source of prestigious
political capital.
By deconstructing the myth of Krishnadevaraya as a purely anti-Islamic
warrior, we seek to recover the true nature of his governance: a sophisticated,
meritocratic, and pluralistic system that prioritized imperial stability over
religious purity. This system serves as a vital historical precedent for the
diverse societies of modern South Asia.
Realpolitik Over Religion: The
Geopolitical Game
To position Krishnadevaraya solely as a religious warrior is to ignore
the complex web of alliances, betrayals, and strategic warfare that defined
16th-century Deccan politics. A nuanced analysis of his military campaigns and
diplomatic titles reveals a ruler motivated by Realpolitik—political
realism based on power and practical factors rather than moral or religious
ideology.
Let us look at two compelling case studies that completely dismantle the
"religious binary" narrative.
1: The Restorer of the Muslim Kingdom
One of the most striking paradoxes in the reign of Krishnadevaraya—a
paradox often conveniently omitted in nationalist narratives—is his
intervention in the internal politics of the Bahmani Sultanate.
By the early 16th century, the Bahmani Sultanate, which was the primary
Islamic power in the Deccan, had fragmented into five rival Sultanates:
Bijapur, Golconda, Ahmednagar, Bidar, and Berar. The nominal Bahmani Sultan,
Mahmud Shah II, was imprisoned by his own vassal, the Barid Shahi ruler of
Bidar.
Now, if Krishnadevaraya was truly the "Hindu Crusader"
determined to annihilate his Islamic neighbour, what would he have done? He
would have let the internal squabbles consume the Sultanate, right?
But in a move that utterly defies the logic of a "Hindu
Crusade," Krishnadevaraya marched his armies north—not to annihilate the
Islamic state, but to save its head of state. He defeated the usurpers and
restored Mahmud Shah II to his throne. Following this stunning victory, did he
proclaim the victory of Hinduism over Islam?
No. Instead, he proudly assumed the Sanskrit title "Yavana Rajya
Sthapanacharya," which translates directly to "The Restorer of the
Yavana (Muslim) Kingdom."
But, wait. Why would a "Hindu" king restore a
"Muslim" emperor?
The answer is pure geopolitical strategy. Krishnadevaraya understood
that a unified Islamic empire in the north was indeed a threat. However, the total
collapse of the Bahmani centre was also dangerous, as it might allow one
aggressive splinter state, such as the Adil Shahis of Bijapur, to consume the
others and grow too powerful.
By propping up a weak Bahmani Sultan, Krishnadevaraya achieved two
things: First, he ensured that the five Sultanates remained locked in
internecine squabbles, vying for legitimacy under a puppet king, thereby
keeping the northern frontier fractured and manageable. Second, by acting as
the "kingmaker" for the Bahmani throne, he was asserting his
suzerainty over the Islamic world of the Deccan, positioning himself as the
ultimate arbiter of their fate. This was statecraft at its highest level.
2: War Against the Gajapatis
If Krishnadevaraya’s primary motivation was the defense of Hinduism, one
would surely expect a "pan-Hindu alliance" against the Deccan
Sultanates. The historical record, however, shows the exact opposite.
Krishnadevaraya spent the most productive military years of his reign,
approximately seven years between 1512 and 1519, fighting a brutal war of
attrition against the Gajapatis of Odisha.
Now, let us ask a critical question, one often ignored in polarized
history: If Krishnadevaraya was a defender of the faith, why did he launch his
most prolonged and brutal military campaigns against the Gajapatis of Odisha, a
fellow Hindu dynasty?
The Gajapati king, Prataparudra Deva, was a devout patron of the
Jagannath cult and Vaishnavism, sharing the same broad religious framework as
Krishnadevaraya. Yet, Krishnadevaraya launched a relentless campaign to strip
the Gajapatis of their territories in the coastal Andhra region.
The violence of this war was not mitigated by shared faith. The
objective was the complete subjugation of a rival imperial power. For instance,
Krishnadevaraya laid siege to the strategic fortress of Udayagiri for 18
months. Upon victory, he did capture the idol of Balakrishna from the Gajapati
territories, but he brought it to Hampi to install it in a temple built
specifically to commemorate his military conquest. This was not merely
religious devotion; it was a political act of "appropriating" the
enemy's divine protection—a standard practice in medieval Indian warfare,
regardless of the enemy's religion.
This war proves decisively that "territory was more important than
religion." The conflict was purely over the fertile Raichur Doab and the
rich trading ports of the East Coast. Krishnadevaraya decimated the power of a
fellow Hindu king to ensure Vijayanagara's economic monopoly, proving that
state interest superseded religious solidarity.
The Portuguese Alliance: The Mlechcha
Connection
To further illustrate his pure pragmatism, let us look at
Krishnadevaraya’s relationship with the Portuguese (Estada da Índia).
The Portuguese, who arrived in Goa in 1510, were considered Mlechchas
(barbarians/impure) by orthodox Brahmins due to their dietary habits and
Christianity.
However, Krishnadevaraya forged a tight diplomatic and military alliance
with them. Why this alliance? It was purely economic and military. The
Portuguese controlled the Arabian Sea trade routes, specifically the crucial
import of high-quality Arabian and Persian warhorses, which the Deccan armies
desperately needed.
To defeat the Bijapur Sultanate at the decisive Battle of Raichur
(1520), Krishnadevaraya utilized Portuguese musketeers (arquebusiers)
and their superior horse stock. He allowed the Portuguese to build a fort in
Bhatkal, completely indifferent to their aggressive Christianity, so long as
the supply of horses remained uninterrupted.
What can we conclude from these descriptions of the Bahmani restoration,
the Gajapati wars, and the Portuguese alliance?
Krishnadevaraya was operating within a sophisticated zone of confluence.
He did not see the world as "Hindu vs. Muslim"; he saw it as
"Vijayanagara vs. Rivals". He utilized Islamic legitimacy when it
suited him, as evidenced by the Yavana Rajya Sthapanacharya title, and
he destroyed Hindu power structures when they threatened his borders. This was
the calculated behavior of a pragmatic emperor concerned with the expansion and
stability of his state, not the behaviour of a religious zealot.
The Meritocratic Machine: Military
and Administrative Pluralism
If Krishnadevaraya’s foreign policy was defined by Realpolitik, his
internal administration and military organization were defined by radical
pragmatism. The Vijayanagara Empire faced a perpetual existential threat from
the superior cavalry and artillery of the Deccan Sultanates. To survive,
Krishnadevaraya recognized that a purely "Hindu" mode of
warfare—relying on slow-moving elephants and peasant infantry—was obsolete.
He instituted a form of military pluralism, actively recruiting Muslims
and Christians not merely as mercenaries, but as integral components of
the state machinery. This crucial policy creates a sharp contrast to the
narrative of him leading a "religious army".
The "Islamization" of the
Vijayanagara Army
Krishnadevaraya perfected the integration of Islamic warfare techniques
into the Hindu state. Historical records, including the chronicles of the
Portuguese traveler Fernão Nunes, document that he actively recruited thousands
of Muslim cavalrymen and archers.
Why was this recruitment active and continuous?
These soldiers were prized for two specific skills that Vijayanagara
desperately needed: First, Mounted Archery. The Turks and Deccani Muslims
utilized the composite bow from horseback, a technology superior to the bamboo
bows used by Hindu infantry. Second, Horsemanship. Since the Sultanates had
direct trade links to Persia and Arabia for horses, by hiring their soldiers,
Krishnadevaraya gained access to both the animals and the experts who knew how
to handle them.
This was not a token presence. Muslim commanders held significant
authority. Individuals like Khan Muhammad governed territories, Malik Hasan
commanded cavalry in major campaigns, and Salabat Khan administered northern
Karnataka regions. These were integrated officials with real authority, not
mere mercenaries. Domingo Paes, visiting around 1520, noted the king
"trusts much in the Moors for guarding fortresses" and employed
Muslim captains with "great command". Entrusting strategic fortifications—the
most sensitive positions—to Muslim commanders indicates genuine confidence and
meritocracy.
Religious Accommodation as State
Policy
To ensure the loyalty of these essential troops, Krishnadevaraya enacted
specific policies of religious accommodation that violated orthodox Brahminical
norms of the time. This wasn't mere tolerance; it was institutional
integration.
How did the accommodation of Muslim soldiers’ religious practices
contribute to the success of the Vijayanagara military machine?
It ensured loyalty and maximum efficiency.
- The Oath on
the Quran: Recognizing
that Muslim soldiers could not swear allegiance before a Hindu idol,
Krishnadevaraya allowed them to swear their oaths of loyalty on the Quran.
This simple act demonstrated respect for their core theology.
- Exemption
from Court Rituals: In
the Vijayanagara court, nobles were expected to prostrate before the King,
viewing him as a representative of the Divine. Understanding that this
violated the Islamic tenet of Tawhid (the oneness of God, bowing
only to Allah), Krishnadevaraya allowed Muslim commanders to simply salute
him or touch their hand to their chest, a gesture of respect rather than
religious submission.
- Mosques in
the Capital: The
archaeological record in Hampi confirms the existence of a "Moorish
Quarter". Inscriptions and ruins indicate the presence of mosques and
dargahs (shrines) built with royal permission, and they were
centrally located, not banished to the periphery. This suggests that the
call to prayer (Adhan) was a familiar sound in the capital of this
so-called "Hindu Empire". Paes confirmed that Muslims in the
city had mosques and "freedom to do all that they desire according to
their own law".
Furthermore, Muslims purchased land, made donations, and engaged in
commerce under the same legal frameworks as Hindus, indicating recognized
property rights and legal access. Their festivals were celebrated publicly.
Islamic religious practice was publicly visible and integrated rather than
marginalized.
The Litmus Test: The Battle of
Raichur (1520)
The Battle of Raichur against the Adil Shahi Sultanate of Bijapur serves
as the ultimate litmus test for the composition of Krishnadevaraya’s army.
Was the Battle of Raichur a religious crusade?
Absolutely not. It was a state-versus-state conflict. The victory was
achieved not by Hindu valor alone, but by a cosmopolitan synthesis of
technology and manpower.
Krishnadevaraya employed distinct battalions of Portuguese arquebusiers
(musketeers). These Christian soldiers provided the sniper fire necessary to
pick off defenders on the Raichur ramparts—a technological advantage the
Bijapur forces did not anticipate from a "Hindu" army.
Simultaneously, historical accounts suggest that a significant portion of
Krishnadevaraya’s cavalry was led by Muslim commanders (referred to as Turushkas
in inscriptions). These units remained loyal to Krishnadevaraya even when
fighting against their co-religionists from Bijapur.
The loyalty of the Muslim cavalry and the Portuguese gunners was
determined by the "salt" (namak—the salary paid by the King)
rather than the "faith". Krishnadevaraya successfully utilized
Christian gunners and Muslim cavalry to defeat a Muslim Sultan.
Administrative Meritocracy
Beyond the military, the civil administration reflected the same complex
balancing act. Krishnadevaraya strengthened the Amaranayaka system, a
military-feudal administrative structure. While his most trusted advisor, the
Prime Minister Timmarusu, was a Brahmin, Krishnadevaraya was careful not to let
any single community monopolize power. He appointed non-Brahmin warrior castes
(Reddys, Kammas, and Nayakas) to govern the provinces.
He even employed Portuguese engineers to improve the water supply system
in Hampi. By employing such a diverse range of administrators, he projected
himself as a Universal Monarch (Chakravartin). In his own magnum opus on
statecraft, the Amuktamalyada, he advises that a King must gather
intelligence from all sources and protect all subjects regardless of their
background. He compares the King’s duty to that of a gardener who tends to all
diverse plants in the garden.
His administrative system, therefore, was a prototype of a functional,
secular state structure. He decoupled competence from caste and religion. He
recognized that to build an empire capable of dominating the Deccan, he needed
the composite bow of the Turk, the gun of the Portuguese, and the
administrative intellect of the Brahmin. By integrating Muslims into the core
of his military apparatus, he proved that his governance was driven by the
desire for efficiency and victory, not by religious prejudice.
Visual and Cultural Syncretism: The
"Sultan" in the Court
The most potent counter-evidence to the narrative of Vijayanagara as a
rigid "anti-Islamic" bulwark lies not in text, but in the visual
record. If Krishnadevaraya viewed Islam solely as an existential religious
threat, one would expect his courtly culture and imperial architecture to
aggressively reject Islamic aesthetics. However, the art-historical evidence
from Hampi reveals the exact opposite.
As Phillip B. Wagoner argued, the Vijayanagara elite engaged in
"Islamicate acculturation". They adopted the dress, architecture, and
political titles of the Islamic world not to convert to Islam, but to
participate in the cosmopolitan "perso-arabic" world system that
defined political power in the 16th century.
Dressing for Power: The Kullayi and
Kabayi
Let us look at the most striking visual contradiction: how
Krishnadevaraya dressed. Bronze portrait statues of the Emperor and his queens,
famously installed at the Tirumala Venkateswara Temple, depict him standing in
devotion. But look closely: he does not wear the traditional unstitched dhoti
and angavastram (upper cloth) typical of Hindu iconography.
Instead, he wears a high, conical cap made of brocade or velvet, and a
long, tailored tunic with long sleeves, buttoned down the front. Contemporary
Telugu texts refer to this cap as the "Kullayi" and the tunic as the "Kabayi".
Where do these clothes come from?
They are borrowings from the Persianate world. Kullayi is a loan
word from the Persian Kulah (a pointed cap worn by Muslim nobility), and
Kabayi is derived from the Arabo-Persian Qaba (a long tunic).
But why would a "Hindu" King dress like a "Muslim"
Sultan?
In the 16th-century Deccan, the Kulah and Qaba were not
merely seen as religious markers; they were the international "business
suit" of political authority. By adopting this attire, Krishnadevaraya was
signaling his status as a modern, cosmopolitan ruler on par with the Sultans of
Bijapur or the Shahs of Persia.
Crucially, this adoption was context-specific. He wore the
"Islamicate" Kullayi and Kabayi in formal court
settings, diplomatic meetings, and military processions—the political domain.
However, during private religious rituals, he reverted to the traditional
unstitched Hindu garments. This clear bifurcation proves that he viewed the
Islamic world as a source of political prestige, separate from his religious
identity.
Architecture as Hybridity: The Royal
Centre
The architecture of Hampi provides a fossilized record of this
syncretism. The city is divided into two distinct zones: the Sacred Centre
(dominated by Dravidian-style temples) and the Royal Centre (the seat of
administrative power).
While the temples (like Virupaksha or Vitthala) are strictly built in
the orthodox Dravidian style using stone lintels and beams, the civil buildings
in the Royal Centre aggressively adopt the Indo-Islamic style.
Look at the famous Lotus Mahal. This pleasure pavilion features cusped
arches (lobed arches), which are a hallmark of Islamic architecture, and a
multi-domed roof structure reminiscent of Sultanate tombs. The interior of the Queen’s
Bath features Islamic-style plasterwork and vaulted corridors that mirror the
architecture of Bijapur and Gulbarga. And perhaps most strikingly, the Elephant
Stables, a massive row of eleven domed chambers, feature a mix of central domes
and fluted domes, stylistically identical to the mosques found in the Bahmani
successor states.
The architects of Vijayanagara certainly possessed the skill to build
these structures in the traditional Hindu style. The choice to use the Islamic
arch and dome for the King’s palace, bathhouse, and stables was a deliberate
aesthetic choice. It suggests that the Vijayanagara kings associated
"Imperial Splendor" with the visual language of the Sultanates. Far
from rejecting Islamic culture, they appropriated it to beautify their own
capital.
The Title: Hindu-Suratrana
Finally, the syncretism extended to the very titles the kings used.
While Krishnadevaraya used traditional titles like Mururayaraganda (King
of Three Kings), the Vijayanagara dynasty also popularized the title "Hindu-Suratrana".
What exactly is Suratrana?
Suratrana is the
Sanskritized pronunciation of Sultan. By calling themselves the "Sultans
among Hindus," the Vijayanagara rulers acknowledged that
"Sultan" was the ultimate title of temporal power in the medieval
world. They did not view the term as exclusively Muslim but as a signifier of
supreme sovereignty.
The visual evidence allows us to reconstruct a Krishnadevaraya who was
far more complex than the nationalist caricature. He was a ruler who prayed
like a Hindu but dressed and built like a Sultan. This visual hybridity—the Kullayi
on his head and the Dharma in his heart—encapsulates the essence of his
governance. It was a regime that confidently absorbed the best elements of the
"Other" to create a distinct, cosmopolitan Vijayanagara identity.
Religious Policy: Patronage Beyond
Sect
In the polarized climate of modern South Asia, historical figures are
often reduced to one-dimensional religious markers. Krishnadevaraya is
frequently reduced to a "Hindu" icon. However, "Hinduism"
in the 16th century was not a monolithic block; it was a complex landscape of
rival sects—primarily Shaivism, Vaishnavism, and Shaktism—that often competed
fiercely for resources and influence.
A nuanced analysis of his religious policy reveals that he was not
merely a defender of a generic "Hinduism," but a master of sectarian
diplomacy. While he was personally a devout Sri Vaishnava, his imperial policy
was one of radical inclusion. He understood that the stability of the state
depended on the King acting as the protector of all Dharmas, not just his own.
The Vaishnava King at the Shaivite
Shrine
The most significant proof of Krishnadevaraya’s religious pluralism lies
in his relationship with the Virupaksha Temple in Hampi. Krishnadevaraya was a
staunch follower of Sri Vaishnavism, but the guardian deity of the Vijayanagara
capital was Virupaksha, a form of Shiva.
A sectarian ruler might have attempted to replace the city’s patron
deity or sideline the Shaivite priesthood. Instead, Krishnadevaraya began his
reign by paying homage to the Shaivite cult. To commemorate his coronation, his
very first major architectural project was not a Vaishnava temple, but the
construction of the massive Raya Gopuram (gateway tower) and the renovation of
the inner sanctum of the Virupaksha Temple.
By dedicating his first imperial act to Shiva, he signaled to his
subjects that the King transcends personal sectarian preferences, effectively
bridging the Shaiva-Vaishnava divide, which was a significant source of social
friction in medieval South India.
Diverse Patronage: A Portfolio of
Faiths
The epigraphic record provides a quantitative breakdown of his balanced
patronage. While his most lavish patronage naturally went to the Venkateswara
Temple at Tirumala, which he visited seven times, he also composed the Amuktamalyada,
a Telugu epic dedicated to the Vaishnava saint Andal. His donations at Tirumala
included diamond-studded crowns and bronze statues of himself and his queens.
But his patronage extended far beyond his personal sect. He patronized
major Shaivite centers across the empire to ensure regional loyalty, making
significant grants to the Srikalahasti Temple and the Chidambaram Nataraja
Temple in the Tamil country. Even though Jainism was in decline,
Krishnadevaraya ensured its protection. An inscription from 1515 records a
grant for the maintenance of the Ganagitti Jain Temple in Hampi. This confirms
that the state extended its protection to non-Vedic traditions, adhering to the
ancient Indian ideal of the King as the protector of all ascetics.
Tolerance of the Mlechcha
Faiths
Krishnadevaraya’s attitude toward non-Indic faiths (Islam and
Christianity) further distinguishes him from the "Crusader"
archetype. His tolerance was driven by trade and diplomacy, but it resulted in
a religiously open society.
In a letter to the Portuguese governor, Krishnadevaraya emphasized that
a King must improve his harbors and encourage commerce so that "horses,
elephants, pearls, gems, and sandalwood" flow freely. He implicitly
accepted the presence of Christian traders and missionaries in his ports (like
Bhatkal) as the price of prosperity. Although the Portuguese Inquisition was
active in Goa, he did not allow it to operate within his territories, but he
permitted the private practice of Christianity among the traders.
Most importantly, as noted earlier, the construction of mosques for his
Muslim soldiers in the capital was state-sanctioned. Crucially, there is no
historical record of Krishnadevaraya destroying a mosque or a church in his own
territory to build a temple—a crucial distinction from the politics of erasure
often attributed to religious warfare.
What was his religious policy, then? Was it secular in the modern sense?
No, his religious policy was not "secular" in the modern
Western sense of separating church and state. Rather, it was "pluralist"
in the Indic sense. He was a Chakravartin who derived legitimacy from
all divine sources. He wore the vertical tilak of Vishnu on his
forehead, built towers for Shiva, protected the temples of Jains, and allowed
the call to prayer for his Muslim soldiers. By doing so, he created a stable,
multi-confessional empire where loyalty to the throne superseded loyalty to a
specific god.
The Vijayanagara Synthesis and the
Future of History Writing
Friends, the historical trajectory of South Asia is currently being
rewritten, often at the cost of historical accuracy, to serve the demands of
modern nation-building. The figure of Krishnadevaraya has been appropriated as
a symbol of resistance—a "Hindu Hero" standing against the tide.
However, as we have demonstrated, such a characterization is a disservice to
the complexity and sophistication of his reign.
To present Krishnadevaraya merely as a religious warrior is to diminish
his true genius. His greatness lay not in his ability to build walls against
the world, but in his capacity to build bridges that allowed Vijayanagara to
become a global power.
We must recategorize Krishnadevaraya’s reign as a high point of the "Deccani
Synthesis."
- By adopting the
title Yavana Rajya Sthapanacharya and warring against the Hindu
Gajapatis, he proved that the logic of empire was dictated by geopolitics,
not theology.
- By wearing the
Persian Kullayi and employing Muslim cavalry, he demonstrated that
a state could remain deeply rooted in indigenous traditions (Dharma)
while simultaneously adopting the "modern" technologies and
aesthetics of the Islamic world.
- By patronizing
Shaivites, Vaishnavites, and Jains, and respecting the faith of his Muslim
soldiers and Christian traders, he embodied the Indic ideal of the King as
the harmonic center of diverse communities.
Now, critics of this pluralistic view often point to the ultimate
destruction of Hampi at the Battle of Talikota (1565)—three decades after
Krishnadevaraya’s death—as proof that "coexistence failed".
Did the pluralism of Krishnadevaraya truly lead to the downfall of
Vijayanagara?
No. Modern historiography offers a crucial correction: the fall of the
empire under his son-in-law was the result of the latter's over-ambitious
manipulation of the Sultanates against one another. It was a failure of
diplomatic brinkmanship, not a failure of multiculturalism. To judge
Krishnadevaraya’s pluralism by the empire's later collapse is a fallacy. Under
his stewardship, the policy of inclusion led to the empire’s greatest economic
prosperity and territorial extent. Inclusion was the strength of the empire,
not its weakness.
The Third Pillar of Pluralism
How, then, can this nuanced presentation of Krishnadevaraya influence
the current discourse in India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh?
Liberal historiography often relies too heavily on Ashoka and Akbar to
demonstrate Indian secularism. By recovering Krishnadevaraya as a third pillar
of this tradition, scholars can demonstrate that pluralism is not foreign to
Hindu kingship. It proves that a ruler can be a devout Hindu and a cosmopolitan
internationalist simultaneously.
The "Islamicate" elements of Krishnadevaraya’s court—the
dress, the architecture, the titles—challenge the purist definition of what is
"indigenous". They suggest that by the 16th century, Persianate
culture had already become a part of the Indian political fabric—something to
be used, not just fought.
In a region currently fractured by religious extremism, Krishnadevaraya
offers a model of "Confident Identity." He was so secure in his own
faith and culture that he did not fear the "Other". He understood
that a great state is one that harnesses the talents of all its people—whether
they wield a bow, a pen, or a prayer bead.
If we wish to write a history that heals rather than divides, we must
liberate Krishnadevaraya from the narrow confines of modern communal politics.
We must present him not as a guardian of the gates, barring entry to outsiders,
but as a confident Emperor sitting on the Lion Throne, wearing a Persian cap
and a Vaishnava tilak, ruling a world where commerce, art, and faith
flourished in a vibrant, chaotic, and magnificent union.
Thank you.
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