An Imperial Retreat from Pestilence

In December 1656, the Mughal capital of Delhi was gripped by deteriorating public health conditions, prompting Emperor Shah Jahan to lead the royal household away from the city. The court relocated to Garh Mukteshwar, a recreational retreat along the banks of the sacred Ganges River. This move reflected a recurring pattern in Mughal governance—the strategic use of mobility to evade urban epidemics while maintaining administrative functions. However, the respite proved brief. Within a month, the emperor returned to Delhi, only to find the health crisis unresolved. By February 1657, he departed again, this time selecting Mukhlispur as his sanctuary. Situated approximately 100 kilometers north of Delhi at the foothills of the Sirmur range, this site offered cooler climates and convenient river access via the Yamuna, making it an ideal refuge during trying times.

Shah Jahan, ever the patron of grandeur, transformed Mukhlispur into a temporary capital of splendor. He commissioned the construction of elegant palaces for himself and his eldest son, Dara Shukoh, adorning the landscape with architectural marvels that echoed the aesthetic sophistication of his reign. In a symbolic gesture, he renamed the settlement Faizabad, meaning “abode of bounty,” reflecting both his aspirations and the lavish investments poured into this retreat. This act of renaming was not merely cosmetic; it embodied the Mughal tradition of imprinting imperial identity upon the land, asserting dominance through toponymy and transformation of space.

A Celebration of Eras: The Dawwar and Qarn

At Faizabad, the Mughal court hosted an elaborate celebration in March 1657, marking the conclusion of Shah Jahan’s thirtieth regnal year and the dawn of his thirty-first. This transition held profound symbolic weight within the Mughal calendrical and historiographical traditions. Official court chronicles, such as the meticulously maintained annual reports, organized time into ten-year intervals known as dawwars, each compiled into a dedicated volume. Thirty-year cycles, called qarns, represented eras of exceptional auspiciousness and perfection. Shah Jahan’s passage from one qarn to another was thus interpreted as a moment of cosmic significance—a rare juncture where temporal governance aligned with cyclical notions of divine order and historical completeness.

The festivities radiated the opulence for which the Mughal Empire was renowned. Foreign envoys from Bukhara, Persia, Turkey, and the Arab world, alongside European travelers from France and Italy, gazed in awe at the spectacle. Shah Jahan, seated upon the legendary Peacock Throne and adorned with treasures like the Koh-i-Noor diamond, embodied the empire’s immense wealth. His preference for white marble—a material symbolizing purity and permanence—was evident in the architectural projects that defined his era, including the iconic Taj Mahal, then nearing completion. The nobility, mirroring the emperor’s tastes, displayed fortunes that dwarfed those of many contemporary monarchs, reinforcing the image of an invincible and flourishing empire.

The Illusion of Unbroken Prosperity

To outward observers, Shah Jahan’s India appeared a paradise of stability and abundance. The empire’s vast resources, often romanticized as the “treasure of India,” captivated visitors and subjects alike. Contemporary accounts describe a land where justice prevailed and prosperity was widely shared. Harsh officials were reportedly dismissed upon public complaint, suggesting a responsive and benevolent administration. Poets and chroniclers celebrated the emperor as a vigilant guardian who shouldered the burdens of governance so that his people might sleep in peace, free from calamity. One panegyric captured this sentiment:

Light fills the hearts of the people
The emperor alone bears the heavy burden
To bless them with tranquility
Because he remains watchful
Disaster lies deeply asleep

Shah Jahan cultivated an image of enlightened rulership, surrounding himself with capable ministers, scholars, and artists who made his court a beacon of wisdom and culture. This intellectual vibrancy, combined with military expansion and economic consolidation, seemed to assure the empire’s continued preeminence. Even setbacks in external campaigns, such as failures in Central Asia, did little to tarnish the luster of Mughal prestige at its zenith.

The Gathering Storm: Loss and Uncertainty

Beneath this glittering surface, however, foreboding shadows lengthened. The very pillars that had supported Shah Jahan’s glory were crumbling. In the five years leading up to 1657, three of his most trusted advisors and generals—intimates who had shaped policy and secured frontiers—succumbed to mortality. Said Khan Bahadur Zafar Jang died on January 4, 1656; Sadullah Khan, revered as the “Abul Fazl of his age” for his administrative brilliance, passed on April 7, 1656; and chief chamberlain Ah Mardan Khan followed on April 16, 1657. These deaths created a vacuum of experience and loyalty that the younger generation of courtiers seemed ill-equipped to fill.

The emperor, now 67 by the lunar calendar, felt the weight of his years. His early life, marked by rebellion and exile during his father Jahangir’s reign, had been followed by decades of stable but demanding rule. The physical and psychological toll was becoming evident. Conversations with confidants increasingly turned to the future—a topic that offered little comfort. The question of succession loomed large, haunting the court and the empire.

The Four Princes: A House Divided

Shah Jahan had four sons, each matured into capable provincial governors and military commanders. Yet, fraternal affection was conspicuously absent. The younger princes—Shuja, Aurangzeb, and Murad Bakhsh—nursed deep resentments against their eldest brother, Dara Shukoh, the emperor’s favored son and designated heir. This jealousy coalesced into a shared hostility, particularly between Dara and Aurangzeb, whose mutual animosity festered into outright enmity over time. The court, and indeed the empire, buzzed with speculation about the impending struggle. Many feared that Shah Jahan’s death, or even his decline, would trigger a devastating civil war, tearing the realm asunder.

Dara Shukoh: The Anointed Successor

Shah Jahan left no doubt about his preference for Dara Shukoh. As the firstborn among the four brothers sharing the same mother, his designation drew legitimacy from traditions prioritizing primogeniture. To prepare him for rule, the emperor kept Dara close at court, granting him governorships of wealthy, stable provinces like Allahabad, Punjab, and Multan while allowing him to administer through deputies. This arrangement ensured Dara’s continuous involvement in central governance and policy-making.

Honored with the lofty title “Shah-i-buland-iqbal” , Dara commanded an unprecedented force of 40,000 troops and enjoyed privileges that placed him second only to the emperor. His intellectual pursuits—including dialogues with Hindu and Sufi scholars and s of Upanishads—signaled a syncretic vision for the empire, but they also alienated orthodox factions. His prominence at court bred arrogance and resentment, fueling the ambitions of his brothers, who governed distant provinces and cultivated their own power bases.

Cultural Reflections and Social Undercurrents

The splendor of Shah Jahan’s court masked simmering tensions that reflected broader societal shifts. The emperor’s architectural and artistic patronage, while creating enduring monuments, strained the treasury and fueled taxation pressures. The concentration of wealth among the nobility contrasted with the precariousness of agrarian livelihoods, creating fault lines that would later exacerbate succession conflicts.

Religious and cultural policies also played a role. Dara’s inclusive, eclectic approach appealed to many Indians but alarmed traditionalists who favored a stricter Islamic orthodoxy—a camp increasingly represented by Aurangzeb. These ideological divisions mirrored the fratricidal rivalry, turning the succession struggle into a contest over the empire’s soul.

Legacy and Modern Relevance

The events of 1656–57 marked a critical juncture in Mughal history. Shah Jahan’s attempts to manage health crises through mobility, his celebration of cyclical time, and his fraught succession planning reveal the complexities of premodern statecraft. The subsequent war of succession would indeed plunge the empire into bloodshed, culminating in Aurangzeb’s victory, Dara’s execution, and Shah Jahan’s imprisonment in the Agra Fort.

The legacy of this period endures in multiple ways. Architecturally, sites like the Taj Mahal and the redesigned Faizabad remain testaments to Shah Jahan’s vision. Politically, the succession struggle underscored the vulnerabilities of centralized empires reliant on personal rule and the dangers of ambiguous succession norms. Modern parallels can be drawn to contemporary discussions about leadership transitions, public health governance, and the balance between tradition and change.

Historians continue to debate whether Shah Jahan’s reign represented the peak of Mughal cultural achievement or the beginning of its decline. What is undeniable is that the twilight of his rule—with its blend of magnificence and foreboding—offers timeless insights into the dynamics of power, the fragility of empires, and the human dimensions of history that resonate across centuries.