Weaponizing Cosmopolitanism: The Trojan Horse of the 17th Century Indian Sub-Continent

by Morgan Spencer   

Hanging, 1 of 7 Pieces, ca. 1610-1620. Painted resist and mordants, dyed cotton, 108 1/4 x 37 3/4 in. (275 x 95.9 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Museum Expedition 1913-1914, Museum Collection Fund, 14.719.2 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 14.719.2_SL1.jpg)

Correct categorization, and thus rationalization, of textiles is often difficult to determine in the early modern studies of the Indian subcontinent. This identified problem can be contributed to a variety of causes, but prominently to the instability of governance during Mughal imperialism, the sparse written record of trade transactions in India, the catering of desired aesthetics to different markets by producers, and the various cross-cultural interactions between groups in the period. Thus, in order to rationalize and further analyze the collection of wall hangings from the Coromandel coast circa 1610-1620 AD, “Hanging, 1-7 pieces” (Accession 14.719.1-7), (Fig. 4), located at the Brooklyn Museum in New York, a contextual historical framework is necessary. 

The Indian subcontinent in the late 16th century and the beginning of the 17th century consisted of loosely drawn boundaries between the Mughal, Vijayanagara, and Deccani empires (Fig. 1). The southernmost region, Vijayanagara, was constructed as a Hindu state in the early days dedicated to “defending south india from the advancing tide of Islam,” (Moin 5). Thus, it was quite opposite to its Deccan counterpart, a primarily Islamic territory stretching across the midsection of the subcontinent. The Deccan sultanates had four different states of rulers: Ahmadnagar, Bijapur, Bidar, and Golconda. However, for the purpose of this paper I will focus on the Deccan sultanates of Golconda because of their rule over the Coromandel coast and diamond mines in the area. 

The Deccan sultanate “astonished European travelers
in the Western imagination, “Golconda,” in particular, became synonymous with fabulous wealth,” particularly for their control over diamond mines in the east. In fact, the Deccan was even given credit for supplying the Vijayanagara empire with their famous “precious stones of Vijayanagara,” (Saletore 114). The Qutb Shah sultanate of Golconda (1518-1687) had control of roughly 30 mines, which contained the “finest, colorless, flawless, type II A diamonds with exceptional optimal transparency,” (Stronge V&A). In 1677 Henry Howard, an English nobleman who traveled extensively in India, claimed that “diamonds from the Deccan were sufficient to furnish the entire world,” (ibid). While religious differences set the boundaries between the Vijayanagara and the Deccan, more recent investigation has led scholars to believe that “an exceptional amount of culture – ideas and modes of governance, courtly etiquette, architecture, sartorial habits, etc. – freely trafficked between the two states, as did thousands of opportunistic mercenaries and even high-ranking nobles,” (Moin 5). Both aesthetic analysis of objects during this time and trade between the two states convey this cross-cultural amalgam. 

However, cross-cultural interactions were not limited to solely Vijayanagara and the Deccan. Adding to this cultural melting pot (Moin 9):

were the many overseas influences that penetrated the early modern Deccan
In the sixteenth century, Portuguese conquistadors and merchants reached the Deccan’s west coast, and after wrestling the port of Goa from Bijapur in 1510, engaged with the Deccan’s inland kingdoms as merchants, as soldier-mercenaries, and as Jesuit priests. Soon thereafter English and Dutch merchants would reach both coasts, initially in a commercial capacity only.

The introduction of European merchants from the various East India Companies to the Deccan and Vijayanagara empires was crucial in establishing new trade routes with the West. Initially, the Portuguese brought spices, and traded at ports such as Masulipatnam (Deccan) and St. Thome (Vijayanagara). However, the establishment of St. Thome, a Portuguese settlement on Vijayanagara territory along the coast of Andhra Pradesh, did not initially go over well with the Vijayanagara viceroy, Rama Raya (1617-1632 CE). Raya attempted to compete by erecting a fort near the Portuguese stronghold in 1615, and the Portuguese captain Manoel de Frias ultimately captured it along with the cannon inside of it (Saletore 123). This is just one example of the somewhat hostile relationship between the European merchants and the Vijayanagara empire. 

Yet, no such hostilities during this time existed in the Deccan region of Golconda because of the realized need for support of the relatively new empire under the Qutb Shah Sultanates. Because of the sultanate’s newness, previous historical hostilities with the Vijayanagar empire and association with Mughal imperialism through Islam, the celebration of cultural diversity was important in legitimizing the empire. For example, a demand in the Deccan for administrators, soldiers, artists and literati “steeped in the prestigious Persian culture that the central asian conqueror [Timur] had so lavishly patronized,” (Moin 4). Further, a stream of westerners from Arab and Persian worlds were attracted by the offer of status in high positions and came to the Deccani courts. Lastly, because of the lack of relations with north India since 1347, the Deccani sultanates had to recruit “military and civil talent to run their kingdom
[resulting in] the influx of so many Persian-speaking Westerners virtual[ly] transform[ing] the kingdom into a settler’s colony,” (Moin 4). From 1565 to the 1680s, this region saw something of a golden age, as peace and prosperity reigned. However, as noted by A. Azfar Moin in his book Sultans of the South (Moin 7): 

It was not just the peace and prosperity that fostered the burst of distinctive artistic traditions in the principal courts of sixteenth and seventeenth century Deccan. Equally important was the cosmopolitan character of those courts, in turn a function of the Deccan’s cultural and ethnic diversity. This diversity is especially apparent when juxtaposed with the more homogenous culture of the imperial Mughals


Most notable in this description is the last line: the mention of the homogenous “imperial Mughals” in comparison to the cosmopolitanism displayed by the Deccani sultanates. Cosmopolitanism in this regard is the concept of respectful coexistence of seemingly differing ideas and different states of engagement with the material world, (Sengupta 2017). Haiat and Sardar are not alone in their perception of the homogeneity of the Mughals, despite “self-proclaimed cosmopolitanism and ecumenism,” for primary reports also detail their aversion to diversity (LefĂšvre 1). For example, in a recorded conversation between the Mughal officers and Prince Murad, the son of emperor Akbar (1556-1605), in Ahmednagar, one Mughal officer “exploded in rage. ‘What nonsense is this?’” he exclaimed of Deccani cosmopolitanism (Moin 7). Then, noting the prince’s and Akbar’s “noble” descent from Timur, he angrily contrasted the Mughal dynasty with the “motley collection of peoples defending Ahmednagar’s fort, whom he contemptuously dismissed as ‘crows and kites of the Deccan, who squat like ants or locusts over a few spiders,’” (ibid). 

The inclination towards imperialism and self-positioned superiority led to the Mughal expansion campaigns entering the Deccan Sultanate and the Vijayanagara regions under Akbar in the mid-1570s. At the turn of the 16th century, the Deccani sultanates had a stronghold on the production and trade centers along the Coromandel coast: a prize that the Mughals had been staking out. Further, of the three dominating empires, the Mughal Empire was one of the most opulent in conspicuous display of jeweled decoration from depictions in art of the era, despite not owning the precious Deccani diamond mines (Fig.3). Thus, in order to effectively campaign the expansion of the Mughal empire, and successfully overtake the Golconda region for the access to the Coromandel coast and diamond mines, I hypothesize that the Mughal empire intentionally propagandized “cosmopolitanism” as a form of soft power prevalent in the art and artifacts of the early seventeenth century. The Brooklyn Museum wall hanging, “Hanging, 1-7 pieces” (Accession 14.719.2), (Fig. 4), is a primary example of this phenomenon. 

Detangling History

Beginning with the macro level of the piece, the kalamkari wall hanging “Hanging, 1-7 pieces,” (circa 1605-1650) is the epitome of seventeenth century Mughal ‘multiculturalism.’ The hangings were not just for a royal private collection, but most likely commissioned in Masulipatnam (Machilipatnam) for display as tent hangings, or qanats, typical of the time used during royal hunting trips, visiting faraway palaces, and gauging support for the empire through cross-cultural interactions (Fig. 4). Each of the seven panels, originally one large piece, represents a distinct cultural group, identified by aesthetic style and trade relations: (1) Persians, perhaps Deccani Sultans (2) Europeans, perhaps Portuguese (3) Southeast Asian, perhaps Thai or Siamese (4) rural communities in the midsection of India, perhaps the Adivasi (5) the Indonesian islanders, perhaps Malay or Javanese (6) the so-called “locals,” (Cummins) most similar in aesthetic to the Vijayanagara Hindus (7) Either East African (Cummins), or Persian/Turkoman with European influence in women’s garments (Gwatkin 93). The purpose of the kalamkari wall hangings, while only postulated in historical research due to the lack of empirical evidence, had to have been originally for a patron that must have been a ruler, “who could attract a powerful cosmopolitan group to his court,” (Gwatkin 91). This conclusion can be made because at the time panels were not usually designed for more than just ornamental purposes (Gwatkin 92). However, in adjusting Gwatkin’s statement, my research indicates that perhaps the kalamkari was made to “perform” the air of Deccani cosmopolitanism in order to facilitate non-military imperialism through the expansion campaigns of the Mughal empire. The Mughals were particularly interested in the wealth of the Eastern Deccan plateau through the diamond mines, production scale and global network of trade. Thus, commissioning such a piece would be representative of either the desire for, or the potential success of, the defeat of the Deccani Sultanates. While I must condition this statement with the fact that no authority figures have commented directly on this particular connection to this piece, the evidence of similar Mughal non-military imperial action such as intercultural marriage and political campaigns, the evolution of Mughal “sacred kingship” (Lefùvre 256), the amalgam of Deccani and Mughal style despite conflict, and the corroborated chance that the piece came from a Rajasthani royal collection proves an uncanny historical connection.

An Early Campaign Trail 

The Mughal “inferiority complex” is crucial to understanding the literature, expansion campaigns and arts, and particularly crucial when analyzing the Brooklyn Museum’s “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.” The kalamkari was estimated to have been created between 1605-1650, just after the death of Akbar, during the reign JahāngÄ«r (1569-1627) (translated as “conqueror of the world”) and grandson Shah Jahan (1592-1666). Prior to his death, Akbar had begun entering into a “series of [non-military] alliances with numerous Rajput ruling houses, arranging marriages with Rajput princesses for himself and his heirs,” (Britannica, Rajasthan). Moreover, Akbar perhaps recognized the political power of portraying cosmopolitanism even before his son; JahāngÄ«r, born of a Rajput mother, married Jodha Bai, granddaughter of Raja Askaran of Gwalior (briefly the king of the Amber Palace in 1599 before being ousted by another family member). Thus, Akbar was both  literally and figuratively married to the Amber Palace. This fact assists in potentially corroborating how the kalamkari ended up in the Amber Palace of Jaipur, before being sold to Stewart Culin by local dealer Imre Schwaiger of the Brooklyn Museum in 1914. According to Rahul Jain in his book, Textiles & Garments at the Jaipur Court, the kalamkari is “connected to the Amber farrashkhana via their inventory inscriptions or their art market provenance,” (Jain 39). Thus, the geographic connection of the kalamkari to the Rajasthani Amber Palace would logically follow in exacting a Mughal emperor as the commissioner. The marriages between the Mughal and Rajput could also explain the Persian influence in Mughal design between the 16th and 17th centuries.

While Akbar saw visual power through the construction of cities to “materially express the worldview that he was actively creating,” (Sinopoli 299), JahāngÄ«r utilized the arts to convey his strength. Although his brother, Prince Murad, had previously criticized cosmopolitanism of the Deccani, JahāngÄ«r saw the power in building the concept of cosmopolitanism in his court by including “ambassadors, poets, and dignitaries who had recently arrived from Iran and Central Asia, as well as a range of religious specialists, from Brahmins and Muslim Êżulamāʟ to Jesuit and Jewish scholars,” in his night-sessions of discussion (LefĂšvre 259). JahāngÄ«r was perhaps the first of the Mughals to recognize the power that friendly multicultural alliances with Iran, Central Asia and Hindustan had in “the will to assert their power on a Eurasian scale,” (LefĂšvre 256). Thus, in order to foster alliances, JahāngÄ«r molded the Mughal aesthetic to include references to which any person of India could relate.

These symbolic references were not only fostered within the Agra Fort of Uttar Pradesh, but also created by the mobility of the royal courts with lavish tented camps, as seen in the miniature by Mir Sayyid Ali (1540), (Fig. 5). Jahāngīr is even said to have been absent from Agra for a total of 14 years of his 22-year rule, proving the extent to which he valued, or rather was interested in, inter-cultural relations (Sinopoli 295). Similar use of the tented tapestries as the kalamkari can be seen in Balchand’s depiction of Jahāngīr receiving a prince after he was traveling to campaign for the emperor (Fig. 6). However, one of the most important pieces in identifying the Brooklyn kalamkari as a part of the Mughal empire’s imperialism, is a strikingly similar kalamkari qanat found in the New Delhi Museum, “Qanat with Five Niche Panels” (Accession 48.7/29) (Fig. 7).

Aesthetic Positioning 

In the late 16th century, Mughal officials began to see the sea as “both a source of revenue and of novelties, owning ships and investing in trade operations within the wide network that stretched from the Red Sea to insular Southeast Asia,” (Flores 21). Thus, the Mughals began to invest in, and trade with, artisans in port cities along the Coromandel Coast, particularly in Masulipatam because of the ease of access for the Mughals in the North and the rarity in the skill of textile artisans there. Of the expensive painted kalamkari, “the best, and rarest, came from Golconda – from where supply was further limited by demands imposed upon the Mughal and Deccani courts,” (Lally 31). The port city near Golconda, Masulipatnam, was located on a river ideal for the production of the kalamkari due to the dyeing process requiring fresh water (von Wyss-Giacosa 38). The kalamkari produced at Masulipatnam enjoyed better patronage because of the “chay” red used opposed to the “al” used in Gujarat (Akurathi 38). This “chay” red can be seen in “Coverlet, Golconda region,” (Accession 48.7/103) (Fig. 8) and shows a remarkable similarity, at least in photographic evidence, to the red of the “Qanat with Five Niche Panels” (Accession 48.7/29) (Fig. 7), both of which were assumed to have been made in Golconda during the same time as Brooklyn Museum’s “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.” While the red is faded in “Hanging, 1-7 pieces,” the palette is almost an exact match to the “Qanat with Five Niche Panels,” without retouching for print purposes (Fig. 7). Intriguingly, the “Coverlet, Golconda region” (Fig. 8) depicts a Deccani king, relaxing in his palace surrounded by figures identified to be from Armenia, the Mughal Kingdom, China, and Turkey (New Delhi Museum Archive). Thus, a visual reminder put forth by the Deccan artisans shows the alliances of the Qutb Shahi Sultans through the figures immersed in Deccani cosmopolitanism. To solidify the assertion that the artisans just outside of Golconda were the creators, one need not look further than the fortress the Mughals would later capture in 1636. The Palace Wall at Golconda during the 17th century is remarkably similar to the architectural design of the kalamkari “Hanging, 1-7 pieces,” showing an arrangement of arched niches within a larger niche (Fig. 7, Below). The smaller niches in the “Hanging, 1-7 pieces,” are used to demarcate the private sphere, a thought to which I will later return. The curvature of the niches even ties back around to the “Qanat with Five Niche Panels,” (Fig. 7).

Fig. 7, (Left) “Qanat with Five Niche Panels,”in Moin p. 276 (Right) “Qanat with Five Niche Panels,” (New Delhi Museum Archive)

Fig. 9, (Left) The Palace Wall at Golconda juxtaposed to (Right) Panel 2 of the “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.”

To qualify that the artisans intentionally mixed cultural aesthetics, it is important to understand that the Masulipatnam artisans knew their markets well. Master dyers understood the cultural complexities of the time and “prepared canopies with the appropriate mythological designs for their Hindu clients, prayer carpets for the Muslims, tent-lining cloths with cypress-motif or floral designs, which were held in high esteem by the Persian rulers, and finally yardage and hangings of chintz for the Western market,” (Dallapiccola 14). While the dyers were familiar with an array of cultural aesthetics, they understood too the symbols denoting cultural distinction. However, the kalamkari “Hanging, 1-7 pieces” defies rigid singularity. It pulls Deccani Cosmopolitanism, Hindu ritual, and even European trade relations into a melting pot symbolic of Mughal desire of all-encompassing domination. Even the possible production of the qanat in Masulipatnam indicates the Mughal’s keen interest in Golconda, coinciding with the attacks led throughout the seventeenth century and ultimately ending in Shah Jahan conquering the area in 1636. 

Body as Empire  

By the 16th century “cultural cross-dressing” was common among the Indic, Persianate, and Turkish as “the negotiated product of circulation, both of representations and their signifying potential, ‘firmly embedded in relations of production and trade, of circulation and imagery,” (Flood 72). Particularly, elite garments “created transcultural sartorial connections between Hindu and Muslim elites” that were “not just regional but also hierarchical,” (Houghteling 92). Better stated as a term cross-cultural dressing distinguishes a subject through an “alternate cultural identity; as a consequence, it is often characterized by a simultaneous assertion and disavowal of alterity,” (Flood 72). This practice was common among medieval elites, similar to “code switching studied by modern linguists,” (Flood 72). The importance of this cross-cultural dressing lies in the “conferral of status that this implies,” (Flood 75). For example, Arab and Persian visitors often distinguished the legitimacy of leadership by their appearance, “affording higher status to those who had adopted Islamicate modes of dress,” (Ibid) perhaps because of the Mughal “inferiority complex.” Proposing that the kalamkari is representative of cross-cultural dressing is a large assumption, but considering the kalamkari was certainly meant to depict Mughal cosmopolitanism, and the Mughal emperors were prone to cross-cultural dress in order to garner imperial support, I believe it could be possible. For Akbar and JahāngÄ«r “collected and gifted Bengali cotton cloth, Rajasthani tie-dyed sashes, and Kashmiri pashmina shawls, and adopted into their courtly vocabularies the multilayered meanings that cloth could hold,” (Houghteling 93). Even evidence from the JahāngÄ«rnāma suggests that JahāngÄ«r was “deliberate about the symbolic meaning of his garment choices, and kept detailed accounts of his daily clothing ensembles,” (Houghteling 100). Thus the Mughals recognized and imitated the “subtle political constituencies,” (Houghteling 93) that dress highlighted, particularly because of the inseparability of textile production, economic stability, and political legitimacy. This “prestigious imitation” is like “camouflage, not a harmonization of repression of difference, but a form of resemblance, that differs from or defends presence by displaying it in part, metonymically…in order to be effective, mimicry must constantly produce its slippage, its excess, its difference,” (Flood 75). In part, I believe that this “Mughal mimicry” of different cultural dress could be responsible for the lack of ability for the Brooklyn Museum to classify the exact cultural groups, for each are similar but not entirely correct in encompassing stereotypical cultural characteristics. JahāngÄ«r, in particular, was known to, unorthodoxly, “patronize clothing styles that were incompatible with the prevailing concepts of luxury at international early modern courts,” (Houghteling 105). However, JahāngÄ«r “did not think of himself as patronizing local inferior items,” rather, “he luxuriated in their possibilities,” (Houghteling 111). Thus, I propose that by borrowing Hindu aesthetics and placing them on the body of the emperors in panel (6) of the kalamkari, the Mughal emperors attempted to reposition their empire through manipulation of the material environment and semiotic codes, ultimately depicting the multidimensional aspect Mughal cosmopolitanism.

Early in Akbar’s reign, he adopted a “harsh line toward Hindu and other non-monotheistic subjects…but, ultimately “recognized that since Hindus outnumbered Muslims, he had to devise a different strategy,” (Natif 27). Thus, Akbar adopted relaxed policies toward religious difference. While some argue the sponsorship of the translation of Sanskrit works, such as the Mahabharata and the Ramayana reflected the dynasty’s liberal views in religious matters, “Carl Ernst has called attention to the primary ‘political significance’ of the process,” (LefĂšvre 276). The dispersion of the texts allowed for the the Mughals to “gain knowledge of those social practices in order to regulate them, and, if necessary, to act as an arbiter,” (LefĂšvre 277). Often in arbitration, however, appropriation of belief and ritual assisted in “the business of kingship,” (LefĂšvre 277). Indeed, it did, for after Akbar’s studies of the Mahābhārata and Rāmāyaáč‡a epics, Akbar proposed the idea that the emperor was the true embodiment of the empire in “divine kingship.” JahāngÄ«r was that of an emperor who was “the first among the Mughals to inherit ‘a fully functioning system of sacred kingship,’ as well as a claim to religious leadership over both ShiÊżis and Sunnis,” (LefĂšvre 266). Thus, JahāngÄ«r embraced multicultural dialogue as “a powerful didactic tool that aimed to convince his interlocutors of his superiority, both temporal and spiritual,” (LefĂšvre 262). 

The style, symbols, body language and dress of panel (6) of the kalamkari are that of the Vijayanagara Hindus. However, the Mughals, in “divine kingship” could have potentially asserted their cosmopolitanism not only through inclusion, but through cross-cultural dressing. To break this evidence down, it is important to juxtapose kalamkari temple hangings of the Vijayanagara empire collected at the V&A Museum with sections of panel (6). Further, under my assumption of cross-cultural dressing, first it is necessary to position the figures in the prayer positions as perhaps the succession of “divine” emperors: Akbar, JahāngÄ«r, and on top, Shah Jahan. This hierarchy, discussed later, could be representative of “threat” that both Akbar and JahāngÄ«r posed to the Deccan, but the final victory of Shah Jahan in conquering the Deccan. The following depictions support this claim. 

The ability for fashion to “make the body culturally visible,” allows an analysis of the clothes in the kalamkari to corroborate this assumption (Flood 61). In “Shah Jahan and His Son Toy With Jewels,” (Fig. 10), a miniature portrait done of the emperor, the emperor displays his wealth, while signifying the importance of jewels to the Mughal empire. Even the positioning of the emperor is extremely similar in gesture and garment.

Fig. 10 (Left) “Shah Jahan and His Son Toy With Jewels,” ca. 1620. (Right) Panel 6 of the “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.”

However, the most important signifier of the Mughals is the “malmal” cotton depicted, originally valued in Akbar’s closet as a “cloth-of-gold,” (Houghteling 97). In malmal, the earthly body of the king was put at ease in hot temperatures while simultaneously allowing the divine body to “radiate through the cloth and permitted the king’s perfumed sweat to visibly permeate the fabric,” (Houghteling 98). In the kalamkari, the spiritual value of the cotton is shown by intentionally allowing the cotton canvas of the kalamkari to dress the emperors. 

Considering where the emperors of the scene are placed, the Brooklyn kalamkari comes to life through cultural comparisons. The kalamkari “The Killing of Shishupala 5459,” is a scene from the Mahābhārata written in the 8th century (CE). While the actual kalamkari was created later (19th c.) than the Brooklyn wall hanging, the visual similarities are apparent in the horizontal format of the storytelling. The narrative of “The Killing of Shishupala 5459,” begins with the “invitation and the arrival of Krishna at the court of Pandavas, culminates with the killing of Shishupala, and ends with the completion of Dharmaraja’s coronation, followed by the distribution of gifts to the Brahmins and Krishna’s return to Dvarka,” (read top to bottom in Fig. 11) (Dallapiccola 125). In order to represent the conflict between Krishna and Shishupala, the artist utilizes the gesture of the Vitarka Mudra, or that of intellectual disagreements between the opposing groups. Similarly, in panel 6 on the right of Figure 11, the Mughal leader uses an extended index finger, Tarjani Mudra, the sign of threat or warning, to gesturally comment on the threat of Mughal expansion. Importantly, this Mughal leader sits on the middle tier of the storyline, perhaps representing what is to come in the ultimate Mughal siege. That “threat,” is ultimately realized at the top scene of the Brooklyn kalamkari in the scene depicting the figure that I hypothesize to be Shah Jahan gifting jewels to Deccani women. Evidence that the women are Deccani can be seen in the visual similarities of dress between the “Hanging, India. Deccan, ca. 1640-50,” from the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Accession 20.79) (Fig. 12). 

Fig. 11 (Left) Section of “The Killing of Shishupala 5459 (IS),” 19th century. (Dallapiccola p.125). (Right) Panel 6 of the “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.”

Fig. 12 (Left) Panel (6) of “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.” (Right) a section of “Hanging, India. Deccan, ca. 1640-50,”  The Metropolitan Museum of Art. (Accession 20.79).  

This particular hanging even shows almost identical wrapping techniques in the dress of the women. However, the gifting in comparison to the Hindu dana in “The Killing of Shishupala 5459,” (Dallapiccola 125) is perhaps a reflection of acceptance from Mughal’s new dominion. For, the receiving of gifts is the acknowledgement of entering into a contractual obligation of reciprocity, in this case the Deccani women’s acceptance of the Mughal rule (Mauss 11). Further, from the divine king, it represents a part of his divinity passed on to his new courtesans. While entirely possible that this depiction is merely of the Vijayanagara rulers, and still could be representative of the Mughal assertion of cosmopolitanism, the aesthetic similarities of Shah Jahan’s dress and positioning in “Shah Jahan and His Son Toy With Jewels,” (Fig. 10) leaves me with many questions. 

Returning, once again, to the “Qanat with Five Niche Panels,”  (Fig. 7), Hindu mythology unpacks the cultural significance of the kalamkari “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.” as a Mughal commission. Hindu Gandaberunda, or Berunda, a two-headed mythological bird believed to possess immense magical strength, is depicted in the central panel. However, the bird is swooping down instead of soaring upwards to the sky, which the New Delhi Museum identifies as “perhaps
an ironic version made for the succeeding dynasties,” or Mughals (New Delhi Museum Archive). It is likely that the kalamkari “Hanging, 1-7 pieces” could have been used in the same manner, as a political tool of emulating cosmopolitanism and religious acceptance through bodily vestiment for recognition, but asserting the true strength in the ownership of the ideology. 

Portuguese “Other”ing  

Similar to the Hindu inspired panel, perhaps panel (6), in line with my previous hypothesis of Mughal embodiment, could be a Mughal group dressed as Europeans. Jahāngīr “maintained mostly friendly relations with missionaries from the Society of Jesus, and showed an interest in European painting and artifacts, as part of a global vision for his realm,” (Natif 34). He expressed a desire to include the migrated Europeans into his cosmopolitan court. Yet, underlying intentions of Mughal proximity and tolerance to the Europeans were best described under Akbar in his Akbarnama reports during the siege of Surat in 1573, when a large number of Portuguese Christians presented themselves to Akbar. The reports state the following about the firangīs, or Europeans (Natif 37, Akbarnama 3:37):

They produced many of the rarities of their country, and the appreciative Khedive

[Akbar] received each one of them with special favour and made inquiries about the 

wonders of Portugal and the manners and customs of Europe
. [The emperor] “did this from a desire of knowledge, for his sacred heart is a depȏt of spiritual and physical science. But his [Akbar’s] boding soul wished that these inquiries might be the means to civilising (istÄ«nās, i.e. familiarity or sociability) this savage race.

The Mughal acceptance and tolerance came with the desire to dominate their imposing differences, perhaps through mimicry. According to Tahir Muhammed, a courtier in Akbar’s service, the Mughals saw Europeans as “unclean people, reluctant to use water, especially with respect to bodily functions,” (Natif 39) which was in direct conflict with the Mughal’s careful bodily preservation due to its divinity in kingship. Yet Muhammed recognized “they like to wear elegant clothes,” (ibid). And, most importantly for my conjecture, one Portuguese priest, Father Monserrate, participated in the first mission to Akbar and described the emperor’s donning of Portuguese dress (Commentary of Father Monserrate, 28):

He took them to another courtyard called the Daulatqhana, where he seized the 

opportunity presented by a sudden rain-storm and put on Portuguese dress – a scarlet 

cloak with gold fastenings.

According to Monserrate, Akbar used to don Portuguese dress on suitable occasions. He put it on for the first time probably in the course of his negotiations with the Portuguese through Antonia Cabral in 1573. 

No infallible conclusion has been drawn in research about whether the European panel (2) is actually depicting the Portuguese due to discrepancies of dress identification, which, perhaps, the “slippage” inherent in mimicry can explain. The Portuguese colonies on both the eastern and western Deccan could be seen as motivation for the Mughals to assert superiority over the group, while maintaining a hesitant congeniality. Along with the informal private merchants all along the Indian coastline, the Portuguese had established a formal colony in the Western city of Goa. To even further complicate relations, the Portuguese had mutually beneficial alliance with the Qutb Shahi Sultans of Golconda in 1590. The trade between the two groups most likely stemmed from Portuguese anxiety prompting them to “ward off what they saw (quite correctly) as an imminent threat – the southward expansion of the Mughal empire,” (Subrahmanyam 128). Thus, to the Mughals, Portuguese represented another threat to imperialism into the Deccan. This Portuguese-Qutb Shahi alliance, perhaps the only recorded of its kind so early in time, and Father Monserrate’s primary reports could position the Portuguese as the Europeans in panel (2) of the kalamkari. And, cultural cross-dressing by the Mughals could perhaps account for the discrepancies, or impurity, of the Portuguese dress in the kalamkari. This particular theory is a public display of cosmopolitanism, yet control through satire.

Visual representations of the Portuguese military uniforms have been prevalently exaggerated in other Asian artwork of the time, such as the Japanese silk screen paintings of the early 1600s, “Nanban” (Fig. 13). Particularly, the multi-colored bloomer uniform pants (Fig. 15) and hats, for the firangÄ«s were often described as hat-wearers or kulah-poshān (Natif 39). Identifying the figures as Mughals in Portuguese dress could potentially tell much about the Mughal-Portuguese relations through the sartorial exaggeration in the kalamkari. However, subtle satirical distinctions can be made in the Portuguese representation other than the adornment of their bodies as identification. Two particular details can perhaps substantiate the information about the desire to “civilize” the Portuguese in the Akbarnama report. 

Fig. 15 (Left) Image found online, source unknown. (Right) Panel 2 of “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.”

First, in comparing and contrasting all seven panels, the private sphere beyond the niches is peculiar in the Portuguese panel. Each of the other panels, except for the Portuguese, has a hanging flower (Fig. 16), blossoming above the heads of figures. The meaning in this choice is particularly Rajasthani, circling back to the Mughal’s matrimonial alliances with Rajasthan. These flowers, a form of toran are intended to demarcate the boundary between the mortal and spiritual. They were particularly meant to “shield and deflect the evil eye, a malevolent force widely believed to destroy the reproductive fertility and bring general misfortune,” (Rivers 81). Thus, the private sphere in each panel’s windowed niches, except for the Portuguese, could represent the Mughal’s recognition of each cultural group’s spirituality. In contrast, it also can show the Mughal’s explicit refusal to accept Christianity as “savage” in the terms of the Akbarnama.   

Fig. 16 (Left from bottom to top) Panels 5, 6, and 7 of “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.” (Right) Panel 2. 

Second, the comparison of the Portuguese panel to the Mughal one is peculiar in analyzing exchange practices. The ultimate gifting by Shah Jahan to the Deccani women (Fig. 12) is a ritualistic practice, performed by the king to meaningfully connect with his courtesans by passing along his own divinity. The exchange depicted was not of commodities, but of the promise of spirituality in return for political support. However, the Portuguese (Fig. 17) solely relied on a transactional trade of commodity. Thus, the bottom right authority could represent the Portuguese leader giving his people access to wealth through trade of commodities, and in return wealth is given back to the authorities. This depiction is important in rationalizing that perhaps while the Mughals imitated and displayed all cultures to exert power, they were seemingly most critical of those the least similar or familiar to them. 

Fig. 17 (Left)  “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.” (Right) Panel 2.

Diamonds & Desire: The Final Connection

But what was it that the Mughal leader was “divinely” gifting in Vijayanagara garb? Of what were the Mughals highlighting the Portuguese to be commodifying? Dr. Joan Cummins of the Brooklyn Museum postulated, based on her research, that it was in fact the Golconda diamonds so desired in the Deccan region. Susan Stronge, the senior curator at the Victoria & Albert Museum, quoted explorer Henry Howard (1677) in her talk at the Nauras exhibit at the New Delhi, stating “diamonds from the Deccan were sufficient to furnish the world.” In the same speech, Stronge ties the Portuguese trade of the diamonds up until the 1720s. She also confirms that the Qutb Shahi sultans of the Deccan supplied the Mughal court with diamonds, which was crucial to their wealthy image, gifting practices, and likely the reason for their attempts to overtake the region. Stronge even accounts one particular ritual of JahāngÄ«r, in which he was “covered with so many precious stones, he looked like an idol, and he had more than all of the other world powers.” The cycle of nationalism and imperialism, combined with the divinity attached to diamonds as ritual objects, characterizes the final Deccan connection: desire. It also confirms the calculated intent of Mughal cosmopolitanism, as underlying motives weaponize it. 

Conclusion

In conclusion, my research has proven the necessity to carbon-date the item in order to unpack the cultural complexities of a particular time. The 1605 to 1650 time period is too vast to make a generalized hypothesis. Different individual rulers had different political values and means of displaying those values. That being said, if the kalamkari was made between 1605-1627 under Jahāngīr, the kalamkari perhaps represented the desire to garner support from other cultures for the Mughal empire in the South through non-military alliances and his hopes of victory in the Deccan, thus proving that the ideology of cosmopolitanism became an imperial weapon. However, there exists another possibility that the kalamkari was commissioned under Shah Jahan after the encroachment on Golconda territory in the Deccan in 1632. Accordingly, the cosmopolitanism depicted would then represent the Mughal victory over the Deccani diamonds and the characterizations of cultural groups in an attempt to assert imperial power in expansion. Lastly, my proposed possibility of Mughal cross-cultural dressing in each panel to resolve the discrepancies in the depictions of cultural groups in each panel and assert Mughal dominance by overtly advertising their devotion to cosmopolitanism, while subtly critiquing other cultures through the embodiment of the garments, could add another layer to the complexities of the kalamkari. In either motive, or hypothesis, the Mughal “inferiority complex” of simultaneous celebration and subtle contempt of cultural “others” is clear in the Brooklyn Museum’s qanat kalamkari “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.”

***

Figures 

Figure 1: Map of the Mughal, Vijayanagara, and Deccani empires. https://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/india/mughal-empire-1550.htm

Figure 2: Jewel Mine Map, https://www.gia.edu/jewels-of-india 

Figure 3: Calligrapher: Mir ‘Ali; Painter: Nanha. Shah Jahan Album; Verso: Shah Jahan and 

His Son Toy With Jewels; Recto: Leaf of Calligraphy, obverse. verso: ca. 1620. 

Artstor,library.artstor.org/asset/MMA_IAP_10310749093

Figure 4: Hanging, 1 of 7 Pieces, ca. 1610-1620. Painted resist and mordants, dyed cotton, 108 1/4 x 37 3/4 in. (275 x 95.9 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Museum Expedition 1913-1914, Museum Collection Fund, 14.719.2 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 14.719.2_SL1.jpg)  

Figure 5: Mir Sayyid Ali, Miniature from Layla and Majnun (c. 1540)

Figure 6: Balchand, Jahangir receives Prince Khurram on his return from the Mewar campaign (19 February 1615) 1656-57

Figure 7: “Qanat with Five Niche Panels,” Moin p. 276

Figure 8: “Coverlet, Golconda region,” New Delhi Museum, Accession 48.7/103. 

Figure 9: (Left) The Palace Wall at Golconda juxtaposed to (Right) Panel 1 of the “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.”

Figure 10: (Left) “Shah Jahan and His Son Toy With Jewels,” ca. 1620. (Right) Panel 7 of the “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.”

Figure 11: (Left) Section of “The Killing of Shishupala 5459 (IS),” 19th century. (Dallapiccola p.125). (Right) Panel 7 of the “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.” 

Figure 12: (Left) Panel (7) of “Hanging, 1-7 Pieces.” (Right) a section of “Hanging, India. Deccan, ca. 1640-50,”  The Metropolitan Museum of Art. (Accession 20.79).   

Figure 13: “Nanban Trade, The Cultural Encounter | World Heritage of Portuguese Origin by 

The Perfect Tourist.” Portugal Travel & Tourism E Magazine,

www.worldheritageofportugueseorigin.com/2015/07/31/nanban-trade-the-cultural-

encounter/. 

Figure 14: (Left) Image found online, source unknown. (Right) Panel 1 of “Hanging, 1-7 

pieces.” 

Figure 15: “A Portuguese.” mid-17th century. Artstor, library.artstor.org/asset/SS7731421_7731421_11634810 

Figure 16: (Left from top to bottom) Panels 6, 7, and 5 of “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.” (Right)

Panel 1 of “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.” 

Figure 17: Panel 1, “Hanging, 1-7 pieces.”  

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