Clashes have erupted over Aurangzeb’s tomb, exposing the deep historical roots that gnaw away at the socio-cultural fabric of our nation

In India, the spectre of communalism rears its ugly head every once in a while, often serving as a convenient political tool for those ascending the stairway to power. Grievances left behind as relics of history in a country as religiously diverse as India are manipulated for political gains to fuel unrest and keep the communal cauldron burning. Maharashtra has often been the epicentre of such clashes, the recent one adding yet another bleak chapter to a deeply riven society. The past few days have witnessed a surge of violence as Hindu nationalist groups demanded the removal of Mughal emperor Aurangzeb’s tomb, reigniting age-old conflicts. The ensuing agitation led to arson, stone-pelting, and clashes in Nagpur, forcing authorities to impose a curfew. However, to limit introspection on an issue so raw to the bone to Maharashtra alone would indeed be a fatal mistake, both for our political classes and the masses. The latest incident displays how historical narratives can be weaponised to serve regional political aspirations, and expose an already vulnerable society to centuries of wrongs committed in the name of religion.

Aurangzeb, the sixth Mughal emperor, remains a divisive figure in Indian history. His reign was marked not only by brutal territorial expansions but also by policies that amounted to a brazenly oppressive attitude toward his Hindu subjects. He imposed a crushing jizya tax on non-Muslims, dictated temple demolitions through royal firmans, and mercilessly butchered Maratha ruler Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, silencing every voice raised against him and decapitating every hand that rebelled against his

atrocities. Aurangzeb invoked the Mughal Empire’s ulema to sentence Sambhaji to death for his apparent acts of atrocities on Muslims. In essence, the foreign invader, much like his British successors, wanted to leave behind a legacy that disinherited India’s indigenous inhabitants. Admittedly, he employed Hindus in high administrative positions, patronised some temples, and engaged in diplomatic relations beyond religious boundaries. However, it is his relentless religious persecution of Hindus that fuels what is unfolding in Maharashtra today.

Here, it would be prudent to bear in mind that howsoever burdened by historical injustice one may be, violence by any community must be condemned and controlled. The recent violence in Maharashtra is to be seen as much in the present context as in the past. Hindu right-wing groups have long called for the removal of Aurangzeb’s tomb, arguing it stands as a symbol of historical oppression. A contemporary Indian film, Chhaava,

portraying the brutal torture of Sambhaji by Aurangzeb, is now been cited by some analysts as the reason behind the reignited anger against the Mughal emperor. However, this is too facetious a premise to debate upon a historical wound still dangerously raw. The truth is that the current controversy intensified after statements by politicians, particularly Samajwadi Party MLA Abu Azmi’s remarks, on Aurangzeb’s rule, which were seen as attempts to whitewash a bloodied history, an argument his party members were quick to distance themselves from. The question of the hour is how to put this monster to rest. Indeed, educating people about the nuances of history can prevent the glorification or demonisation of historical figures. But that is easier said than done. The problem is that nobody wants to read history, let alone understand it, yet everyone remains opinionated. Aurangzeb was neither evil nor benevolent — his autocratic reign and religious chauvinism must be studied in the context of his times, the fact that he was last in the line of a foreign dynasty that had ruled India for centuries with an iron hand. For one, political leaders and groups would do well to desist from exploiting historical grievances for limited gains. Strict action should be taken against those inciting communal hatred.